#for some reason this reminds me of a jane austen book

[neishroom]

i want to live here so bad

@neishroom this preset is chewing-

[anghraine]

I've been putting on Jane Austen novels while doing chores, like a podcast and. The cadence of her novels is SO good por audio booking. It is JUST the right balance between fast enough to engage, and not so fast you miss stuff while you're looking for the soap. RIP Jane Austen you would have loved the audiobook.

I forgot about this ask, sorry, but I did smile at it! It reminded me of an analysis of Pride and Prejudice from, I think, the earlyish 20th century (in Reuben Brower's The Fields of Light) that talks about how the first half of P&P in particular "sounds" like theatre, like it was written to be performed on stage. Of course, P&P itself wasn't literally written for the stage, but to go by Austen's letters, it absolutely was written to be read aloud and I think the consideration of sound and cadence remains present in a lot of her mature work.

Novels at the time were often pretty dense, far more than she ever was, and speech in particular can seem stiff and unnatural to our ears, even accounting for changing norms in how people actually speak. So you really feel the contrast with just how stylish and dynamic Austen's use of language is even when reading other novelists of her era. She wasn't disconnected from her literary moment at all, but there's a reason that even people at the time often saw her work as extraordinary—I really like some of these other authors, but there is a tight control and rigor about Austen's style that I think very few others in her sort of milieu really had.

[jotun-philosopher]

Discworld/Good Omens parallels ramble

Exactly what it says on the tin! These are some fun little Discworld/Good Omens parallels that my brain picked up on at various times (usually 3 a.m. or thereabouts... Thanks, mum, for the persistent insomnia...)

Mild-to-moderate spoilers for Wyrd Sisters, Lords And Ladies, Men At Arms and Carpe Jugulum below the cut.

In A Life With Footnotes, the official biography of Terry Pratchett, Rob Wilkins mentions that when he was in school, a young Pterry wrote for English class a story (sadly lost to the mists of time) about orcs attacking a vicarage in full Jane-Austen-spoof fashion. Now, given how the Whickber Street Shopkeepers' Ball turned out, it seems reasonable to assume one of two things: a) this story was not a factor under consideration when writing S2 and the parallel is an ineffably delightful coincidence (a bit unlikely) b) this story *was* an inspiring factor in the writing of S2, and the nod to Pterry happened to work really well with the plot (seems a bit more likely). Either way, the parallel is there and giving me all of the warm fuzzies <3

There's an idea in Discworld, forming a significant part of the moral backbone of the series, that's very succinctly summed up by Granny Weatherwax in Carpe Jugulum: "[S]in [...] is when you treat people like things. Including yourself." This is absolutely at the core of what's wrong with Heaven and Hell and God and Satan in Good Omens; the leadership and culture of both organisations/cults treat everyone -- angels, demons and humans alike -- as disposable things to be used and toyed with and discarded or destroyed if they start having the temerity to be imperfect or form opinions or thoughts of their own.

There're two characters in Discworld who parallel Aziraphale surprisingly strongly: Magrat Garlick (of the Lancre witches) and Captain Carrot Ironfoundersson of the Ankh-Morpork City Watch. -*Magrat is viewed as a bit of a soft, soppy 'wet hen' by the other witches, but she is still a witch, with all that that implies. She also has at least one scene in every book in which she appears where she does something extremely badass and witchy; for example, turning an ancient wooden door back into a tree, or (very pertinently to GO) delivering a literally iron-clad punch to the face of a villain who's mentally torturing her with her own insecurities. Likewise, Aziraphale seems to mostly be viewed as a bit dull and wimpy by the other angels we see (though Magrat still has the genuine respect of her witchy peers) but he is still an angel -- a Principality -- with all the powers, steadfast guardianship and bloody-minded stubbornness of that rank. The Metatrash might not be vulnerable to iron in the same way as Discworld elves, but you can bet that his attempt to break Aziraphale and bring him into line is going to backfire just as spectacularly! *For the parallel between Aziraphale and Captain (well, Corporal, at this point in the Discworld timeline) Carrot, the novel I have in mind is Men At Arms. At one point, Vimes is being held at crossbow-point by a villain, and has a bout of internal monologuing about how, if someone has you at their mercy, you'd better hope they're evil, because that way they'll take time to gloat and mock you so you'll have an opportunity to think of a way out; a good man will kill you with barely a word. Carrot does exactly that at the climax of the plot, putting his sword through the villain and the stone pillar behind said villain without saying a thing. Now, Aziraphale might not quite have Carrot's 'incorruptible pure pureness' tendencies, but he is -- for all his flaws -- a good person. If he knows that something needs to be done to prevent an evil outcome, he will DO it without hesitation. He knows how to use a sword, too, and if That Frickin' Elevator Smile Of Tranquil Fury is any indication, the Metatrash is in far deeper doodoo than he realises! Related to the above, The Smile also reminds me of the old adage, "beware the fury of a patient man." (Well, man-shaped being in this case...) Very appropriate for our careful, thoughtful angel -- it would not surprise me (much) if Metatron were to depart the plot of S3 with a flaming sword pinning him to one of Heaven's columns (probably won't happen, but I can dream, eh?)

Hope you enjoyed reading all that :D

[askinkiskarma]

Illicit Affairs | Chapter IV: Evermore

Pairing: Neteyam x Human/Avatar!Reader

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X

Synopsis: You and Neteyam both have to navigate a lot of painful memories on your first day in a new body

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, descriptions of ptsd flashbacks, cursing

Word Count: 6,2k words

A/N: Chapter 4 is the longest chapter I have written so far. There's definitely some fluff in there and some light hearted, beautiful moments, but it's also the darkest chapter I have written so far. There's some heavy stuff in there, so please read with caution! I wanted my characters to be well rounded and for there to be a good reason for every action they take; why the reader is a recluse, why Neteyam behaves the way he does, and why he left. There's layers to their story that will be unveiled through memories from both the main characters, so I hope you stick around to see where I plan to take this story <3 I never expected people to like it so much, and I hope you guys like what I have planned!

"I replay my footsteps on each stepping stone Trying to find the one where I went wrong And I couldn't be sure, I had a feeling so peculiar That this pain would be for Evermore"

“Am I allowed to be here?” Neteyam says, carefully taking in the new environment that he’s never wondered through before. It was small and dark, his eyes needing a second to adjust to the contrast from the bright neon orbs that illuminated the hallways. His nose scrunched up, trying to assimilate the smell, and realised it just smells like you. 

“Who is going to stop you?” you laugh, and the sounds reverberates through his body and settles deep in his soul. He’s heard this sounds countless times in the 14 years he’s known you. It never ceased to amaze him. 

You take off your Converse shoes and throw them carelessly to the side, jump on the bed and reach for the light on the other side of it, sitting on the bedside table. The lamp turns on and Neteyam finds himself having to adjust to the brightness once more. He settles on the chair that was accompanying a small messy desk, filled with papers, books and electronic tablets that had something you called a graph on it. The words “cell viability” were written on top of it, but Neteyam didn’t know what that meant, so he turned his attention to the many, many books that were displayed on the shelves above the desk. 

He’s seen some of them before, some of them multiple times, as you did seem to have your favourites. He picked one up he recognised. It was called Pride and Prejudice and Neteyam assumed it was written by a person named Jane Austen. He knew you loved this book, but he’s never asked why.

“I love that one…” you started.

“I know” he says in Na’vi. “I just don’t know why.”

“I honestly couldn’t tell you. My mum read me paragraphs from it growing up, and it’s just a book that brings me comfort. I’ve read it so many times, I’ve memorised it, so it’s like a blanket. It makes me feel safe.”

“What is it about?” Neteyam probed further.

You thought about it for a second. 

“It’s a story about two people who come from different worlds, and their journey of understanding each other and overcoming their feelings of, you guessed it, pride and prejudice towards one another and towards each other’s world.”  

He sat with this new information for a while. “So like us?” 

“Mmm, I don’t think it’s like us at all. I think it’s more about my mum and dad, or at least I think my mum thought of her and dad when reading it.”

Your words upset him, he realises in slight surprise. He looks at your figure sprawled over the bed looking up at the ceiling above you in contemplation and feels a pang of hurt as he considers the fact you didn’t think of him when reading a book so close to your heart.

“I have a quote from another book that reminds me of you, though.” Almost as if you read his mind, you turned your head towards him with a smirk and raised an eyebrow.

He didn’t look at you, a small pout erupting from his lips without meaning to. You laugh at him and smile endearingly, softly shaking your head. 

You jump from the bed, slightly wincing when your left leg registers the action, and click your tongue at him so he can move from where he was sat. He obliged and found another spot on the bed, which was now emanating the warmth of your body, and he slowly touched the blanket as if trying to commit the feeling to memory. You climbed on the chair with another small wince and found a book on the uppermost shelf. You jumped from the chair straight on to the bed and fell next to him. 

Patting the spot next to you, you signalled for him to lie down. He did, although his legs were completely off the bed, the tiny contraption barely able to accommodate his torso. You let out a small laugh, but seemed happy to have him so close. 

You placed your head on his chest, and he prayed you couldn’t hear the way his heart felt like it was trying to escape his ribcage at your proximity and warmth. You opened the book and looked for the quote. 

“Ah, there is it.” You cleared your throat, then continued. “He is more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” 

“Get the fuck out of my room, Neteyam.”

You had just finished washing the day off when you heard a small knock on the door. Still reeling from the fight, it was taking everything out of you to muster up the strength to open that door and deal with whatever was waiting on the other side. With a deep sigh, you did so anyway. It was surprising for you to find Jake peering at you from the other side of the open door, a curious look on his handsome face. 

“Hey kid. We’re going to get going now. I just wanted to talk to you for a second before hand. Can I come in?” 

You hesitated for a second, then moved so he could enter. 

“So..” He started awkwardly. “I don’t really know how to do this.” You saw his left hand reaching behind his head and scratching his scalp with a small laugh. 

His eyes drop to a little package he was holding, wrapped in the same sort of cloth as the other gifts had been. He didn’t look at you as he spoke.

“Your mum gave me this, a couple of weeks before she passed. She asked me to hold on to it and give it to your on your 18th birthday.”

Your breath stopped in your lungs. He peered at you with a sad look and handed you the little box. A small video camera, like the ones used to record the Avatar program video logs was now resting peacefully in between your hands. 

“I hope whatever’s on there will give you some peace of mind, kid. I know life’s not been kind to you, but it’s time… time to move on, you know?” 

He got up from his spot on the bed and silently made his way out of the room. “See you tomorrow?” 

With your back to him, you gave him a nod, and with that, he was gone, closing the door behind him.

You stood like that, in the same position, with the camera in your hand for a long enough time that your left leg was starting to ache, an ache that eventually overtook the one in your soul and with that, you took the camera and the bracelet you removed from Neteyam’s hands and shoved them both in the bottom drawer of your desk. “Pandora’s box.”, you thought to yourself, with a bitter chuckle. 

You woke up with a groan, and the meanest headache known to man. Yesterday felt like you did in fact have the biggest party this world has ever seen, and the hangover to match. You scrambled out of bed, still in the dark, and searched on top of your desk for the little bottle of Ibuprofen you keep for days just like this. Today’s the day…

Norm enters your room quietly, and is surprised to see you up already. “So nervous you couldn’t sleep?” He says with a tentative smile.

“Something like that.” 

“Hey…you’re happy about this, right? Tell me we haven’t done this for almost a decade for no reason, cause you know, we can’t just give someone else the Avatar.” he says, with an uncomfortable chuckle. 

“I’m happy, Norm. It’s just a lot to take in, you know? A lot is going to have to change, and I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t tend to do well with change.” you response, laughing to yourself.

“Yeah, me and Max worried about that, but, Ace… you have weathered every storm life’s thrown at you like a champ and I think beyond this great unknown lays a future so bright it will be able to make this planet shift on its axis.” 

You throw your head back and laugh loudly, “Wow, that’s a lot of trust right there. I’ll try not to disappoint.” 

If only Norm knew… knew how you have not been able to brave any storm, and how the storms, in time, turned to tornadoes and then hurricanes and then bigger hurricanes and all you’ve done your whole life is just move further in to the middle of the shelter hoping that someday they’ll just go away by themselves and when they do, there’s still some walls, any walls, surrounding you. 

You put some of Grace’s old workout clothes on and made your way to the Avatar room and properly looked at it, probably for the first time in your life. You used to love coming here as a kid, looking at the scientists in their link pods, at your mum in hers, sitting in Max’s lap and watching the brain activity, bombarding him with questions with answers you couldn’t’ possibly comprehend yet. You’ve moved away from that fascination in time. Now here you stood, about to get your own linkpod and your own brain activity analysed. You peered in the room next to it, where on a big flat metal table lay a blue body, and you couldn’t help yourself from moving closer until your breath was so close to the window in was fogging up the glass. You placed a hand on the cold glass and stared at the new you, and a small smile appeared on your face. It was beautiful, more so than you ever thought your human form to be. Your heart picked up pace in your chest and you were shocked at the realisation that the nerves that you thought only reflected fear and anxiety, also reflected excitement. 

“It’s time.” Max said from somewhere behind you.

You turned and made your way with timid steps towards the linkpod. You climbed on it and the feeling of the green malleable foam woke up a memory inside you, that you fought to push back to where it came from. Now’s not the time. It was cold on your arms and thighs as you lay in it, but weirdly comfortable, like what you would imagine water mattresses you saw in old Hollywood movies to feel. 

Max placed a metal frame of sorts on top on your own and spoke slowly. “Okay, you know the drill, Ace. You have to relax and let your mind go blank. You will be disoriented when you wake up, so take your time in there and don’t rush. Please don’t do a Jake.” 

You chuckled at the story you’ve heard one too many times, but never seemed to get tired of it. 

“We will have to run tests to make sure everything is in order. This is new territory for all of us, and we don’t know how the Avatar will behave yet, so we will take our time and do it right.” 

“Aye aye, Captain.”

You did as you were told and found it hard to relax and let your mind go blank when it was running a million miles an hour with so many emotions, so many thoughts and worries. Still, with all your might, you sat there, and cleared your mind for a split second. It was enough. 

You woke up like from a dream, feeling groggy and tired. Your muscles hurt, a lot. You winced slightly at the gentle touch of a hand, which felt like that time you touched the inside of an electrical socket and got slightly electrocuted. You felt clothes clinging to your body and hated the way the synthetic fabric felt against your skin. You took your first breath and your nose crinkled in disgust at the overbearing smell of alcohol and chloride. 

“Ace? C’mon kid, there you go, you can do it.” 

You finally opened your eyes and groaned at the intense light on the ceiling. Your eyes took a while to focus, but when they did, you saw Norm staring back at you with a smile.

“Hi.” you said, with a deep frown and groggy voice. This was overwhelming. 

“Hi back! Take it easy, alright? Me and Claire will runs some tests to make sure everything’s a-okay. It will take about an hour, I know this whole experience can be a bit strange in the beginning, so hopefully this will ease you into it.”

Norm was a man of his word, and after about an hour of wiggling every part of your body, touching your fingers to your nose, remembering names of objects and repeating it to them, among other things, you were ready to go. You realise to your surprise that you’re excited about going outside. You couldn’t stand the sensation overload that came with being in this lab, in this body. You stood up gently and removed the chords that were still attached to you. You turned around to look at the glass that was reflecting your new figure back at you, and found yourself at a loss for words for the millionth time in 24 hours. It was such a strange feeling, and you knew it would take you a while to get used to looking in the mirror and be met with this. You smiled and waved, knowing Max would be watching you from behind the glass, even though you couldn’t see it. 

Norm handed you a bag, and you peered inside to find a beige loincloth and the top Neytiri gifted you yesterday. “Go change, I think you’ll feel better in these.” 

You did as you were told. Removing the white hospital garb you had on, you looked at yourself fore the first time, properly looked. You were tall. Very tall. And skinny, very skinny. Lean was probably a better word for it, as you couldn’t see an ounce of fat anywhere on your body. You started poking your body in different spots and let out a small laugh at the feeling: it felt like touching soft metal. You were strong. The thought made you happy. You looked again in the mirror at your face. Big yellow eyes looked at you curiously. They traced your nose, and your plump lips and your white freckles, beautiful like the night sky. Your eyes settled on your hair, long and soft and dark and your arm reached behind you to bring your braid into focus. You lifted it and looked in awe at the queue and the way the tendrils were moving on their own accord. Adrenaline was coursing through your veins like water breaking apart mountains to make a canyon of your mind. 

Neteyam’s words suddenly broke through.  “You’re not going to make it.” 

Adrenaline turned into rage and you hated it, hated the boy in that moment. Hated the effect his words had on you, even after so much time. You dressed slowly and tried to make sense of the “top” Neytiri gave you. Once you put it on, you looked back in the mirror and loved the way it looked on you. You also had a newfound appreciation for the soft feel of the feathers and the beads, and took note of the contrast between it and the unnatural feeling hospital gown you were in a few minutes ago. If it wasn’t for your eyebrows and your five fingers and your soft, straight hair, you wondered if anyone could be fooled into thinking you are, in fact, Na’vi. 

“You know nothing about the real world.” 

Dropping the clothes in the bag provided, you took one last look at yourself and saw something in your eyes that wasn’t there before. Determination. The sick, stubborn determination that has always made you push out all reason as soon as someone tells you you can’t do something. 

“Tell Norm no.”

You left the room smiling. You will make him eat his words, and you will enjoy every minute of it.

You reached for the mask packs by the entrance and dropped your hand. You will never have to wear that damn mask again, you thought with satisfaction. As you stood outside, it felt again like emerging in your avatar body for the first time. So many sounds, colours, sensations flooded your being and you couldn’t even register the voice yelling your name until the person that spoke it took you by the shoulders. You hissed at the sudden contact and it shocked you. Where did that come from? 

“Angel, you there?” 

“Give her a second, Lo’ak. This is bound to overwhelm her and you yelling at her isn’t going to speed up the process.”

“I can’t believe she just hissed at me.” 

The world slowly seemed to settle around you, and you focused you sight on the boy in front of you… the boy who was now your height.

“Lo’ak?” 

“Hey, you.” The younger Sully boy gave you a big smile and eyed you intently up and down a few times. “Damn, you’re hot this way, too. This is unfair, you know? But also somehow makes me feel better that it turns out I’m not into a different species altogether, just one girl.” 

You laughed, really laughed. Lo’ak was a charmer, another one of the many many traits he inherited from his dad. 

“You’re shorter than I thought you’d be.” 

“Ouch.” You knew he wasn’t really offended, so you blew a kiss towards him and shifted your attention to the world, that you realise you have never seen before. Not properly. Its beauty left you speechless. You don’t know how you were supposed to function when all you wanted to do is just walk around, smelling the flowers. 

“We have to get going, you’re going to start your training today, and your new boss is not going to be happy if you’re late.”

“My new boss?”

“Yep. Neteyam has been given the tough job of taking your lab ass and turning it into a Na’vi warrior. I have to say, I don’t envy him,  and I definitely don’t envy you.” 

“Lo’ak, shut up.” 

Well, this is going to be fun… You had a hunch Neteyam would have to train you, as Lo’ak is too young and restless and cares about the rules too little, or not at all, to do it, but hearing it as a fact made you shudder. You haven’t spent a whole day with Neteyam in years, and you didn’t particularly care for this new-and-improved version of himself. You wondered silently how this was going to go. If the last two interactions are anything to go by, you were not in for a happy time.  

“Lo’ak should be here any second. I want you to start training her right away. Maybe start with the Pa’li first, and do bow training when that gets too much. You won’t really have to teach her the language, but try to make sure you talk in Na’vi more than in English, and this way you’ll see if there are any gaps in her knowledge and address them. Neteyam, are you listening?” 

The oldest Sully sibling was only half paying attention to what his dad was telling him. In truth, he was scared half to death. He didn’t want to do any of this. This is not how any of this was supposed to go. He couldn’t be around you. He didn’t want to be around you and he most definitely didn’t want to have to teach you the ways of the Na’vi and have to put his own training and responsibilities aside for this. He has already had to teach Lo’ak whenever his parents had better things to do and he was getting so fucking tired of being used as soon as it was convenient for other people. 

He pushed the bitter feelings aside. His parents relied on him for a reason, he tried to remember. They relied on him because they trusted him, and because he fought hard to be worthy of that trust. He had no right to complain, not when he knew how much worse it could be… for better or for worse, at least he had parents to rely on him. The thought made him sad, and he felt guilt at the words he spat at you yesterday. He knew they were for the greater good, but he also knew they crossed a line, a line that he might not be able to cross back from. 

He didn’t have time to think about the consequences of his actions, as he heard a yell that pulled him out of his thoughts and he knew it was time to come face to face with his worst nightmare. 

“We’re here!”, screamed Lo’ak, and Neteyam suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at his immature younger brother. 

He made his way outside of the tent, picking up his knife and placing it on the sheath resting beneath his chest. He took a deep breath, one that got lodged in his throat.

Next to Lo’ak was a girl. The most beautiful girl he has ever laid his eyes on. Her stripes were somehow more accentuated than normal, and they reminded him of his own. It was something he was insecure about growing up, the deep contrast something his friends and even family teased him about relentlessly, but now, looking at it on her, he realised they were blind - he was blind - to have ever hated them. Her eyes were now yellow, a big departure from her human eyes, and although it was strange, just like the rest of her, they still felt familiar to him. Like no matter what body she inhabited, her soul would always shine through, always calling out to him like a moth to a flame. He knew then he’d always feel like this about her, for the rest of his life, no matter what she looked like. Fuck.

“Look at you, kid! You look like you belong already!” 

Jake’s voice cut through the tension that you felt sitting here, being eyed at like you were a new cub at the zoo. The stares made you so uncomfortable you felt like you were going to explode, and could not wait until this was no longer a novelty to anyone, including yourself. 

“Thank you, Jake. For everything. I cannot express how grateful I am that you and Neytiri, and the tribe, are so willing to accept me in the village.” 

“No problem, kid. Anyway, we will have plenty of time to discuss everything tonight at dinner, but for now I think you and Neteyam should head off. There’s a lot to learn.”

“Right.” You turned around and gave a half-smile to Lo’ak, who looked at you like you were a deer in headlights. Maybe you did look how you felt. 

You bid a small goodbye to everyone and suddenly found yourself face to face with the only person you didn’t want to see. 

He started walking without saying a word, and you followed him. You refused to say anything to him, there was nothing to say to him after yesterday. Before yesterday, you might have demanded an explanation, you might have demanded he told you what happened to him in the year he abandoned you, what lead to him leaving without a single word, how dare he forget about what he meant to you and what you knew you meant to him, how could he just forsake you like you were nothing; you would have screamed at him and told him you hated him without meaning it and hoped he would just hug you and told you he’s sorry, that he was stupid and that he’ll never leave you again. None of that came out. You were past that. He crossed a line and you knew it in your mind that no explanation would be enough, no excuse would justify his behaviour enough to satisfy you and make you forget. Not anymore. 

His back was to you as he was leading you away from the Sully tent, and for the first time in your life, you saw him for what he was. A leader, a warrior. He was lean and muscular, and his physique reminded you a lot more of Jake than a Na’vi man’s. His shoulders were broader and his arms were bigger, leading to a more accentuated contrast between them and his waist, and you hated yourself for how it made you feel, how your mouth filled with saliva you had to force yourself to swallow and how your pulse increased so rapidly it almost made you dizzy. He was taller than you, taller than Lo’ak and you knew that even in this body, he would still tower over you. You definitely hated how that made you feel. 

He stopped at the entrance to a tent. He opened the flap of the entrance and motioned for you to enter. You obliged without a word. He followed you in and closed the flap behind him. You didn’t like being in such close proximity, but you knew you’d have to get used to it, so you let it go.

“This is now your tent. Mum and Dad thought you would feel more comfortable with your own space. They also thought you’d like my old training bow. There’s a pouch for your knife that you can put around your torso and I have the knife, but I won’t give it to you until I make sure you won’t kill me with it.” 

As far as an attempt to diffuse an awkward situation goes, this wasn’t half bad. Still, not nearly good enough to matter. He sighed at the lack of response.

“Right. I think we have to get a few things straight.”

Your eyebrow raised, but you let him go on.

“I know you’re mad. I know you’re so mad you’re probably thinking of ways of sticking needles in my eyes. But I don’t care. I was given a responsibility to take care of you and to teach you. I know you think you know everything, but you don’t. I know you think you know this world, but you don’t. Not in the way you need to, to survive. There’s a reason no scientist living on Pandora has ever become one of the people. You can’t see. As my grandma always says, “you cannot fill a cup which is already full”. I know you. Your cup is overflowing. From now on, you do what I say. Pretend you don’t know me, pretend we’re not you and me.” 

“I don’t know you, Neteyam.”

He winced inside at the words. “That’s enough!” He said, forcefully. 

“You answer to me from now on and I want to make sure you understand that. Dad will skin me alive if anything happens to you. You will listen and you will do as I say. Whatever issues you have, you’re going to have to deal with them in your own time.” 

Another blow below the belt, you thought, and reminded yourself that you were here for a reason, you were here to make him eat his words, and if he wanted to play his game this way, you were more than happy to beat him at it. 

“Yes, Sir.” 

You made your way out of the village and walked in silence through the woods. You were looking at the bow in your hand, and carefully traced every mark and scratch on its surface. You couldn’t help wonder about what events in Neteyam’s life lead to each and every one of them, and vowed to yourself that you would take care of this bow with your life, if not for anything else, for the still untarnished memory of that little boy you once loved so much. Once you reached a large clearing, with beautiful lush greenery and a majestic waterfall, you thought this was definitely a much better view for training than the reagent-filled benches of the lab. You saw about half a dozen Pa’li peacefully feeding off the sweet nectar of flowers in the distance, and smiled gently at the sight. You will never get used to it, you knew. 

“First step to being a Na’vi, learning to form Tsaheylu and learning to ride the Pa’li.” Neteyam spoke in Na’vi over the soothing sounds of the forest.

“OK.” You answered shortly.

“In Na’vi. We speak Na’vi from now on.”

“Kurkung (asshole).” Neteyam shoots you a dirty look and you can’t help but smirk. “What? That’s Na’vi. Perfect pronunciation, by the way.” 

His mouth tightened in a straight line and he left you, busying himself with a Pa’li he called over. He caressed it gently and held his hand next to his eye, whispering. 

“Tam tam, Tirea, tam tam.” 

“Get on.” He spoke to you still looking at the Pa’li. 

Even in this body, the direhorse was significantly taller than you, and you shot Neteyam an incredulous look. Regardless, you made your way to the animal and with all of your might, willed yourself to get on top of it. It took a couple of tries, but you eventually succeeded. You were stronger than you realised, and you were excited to discover exactly how strong you could become in time. 

Neteyam gently took the neural whip of the direhorse and guided it to you. You took it in your right hand and stared at it in amazement. You have heard so much about this, you have seen it firsthand with Neteyam’s Ikran, but to know you will now have to make your own Tsaheylu, experience this deep bond you knew everything and yet nothing about, it was terrifying. You left hand went behind your head and brought forward your own queue. This was it. Slowly, you brought the two together, and held tightly on to the Pa’li as the new sensation overwhelmed all of your senses. It felt like all of your neurons were firing at the same time. It felt like you were being electrocuted. As the feeling subsided, you felt a breath that was moving at the same time as your own, you felt a second heartbeat that was going much faster than yours possibly could, and you tried to calm yourself down as you knew the nervousness the animal felt was mirroring your own. Neteyam allowed you a second to experience this for yourself with no interruption, and you appreciated that. He trusted you enough to give you some space, and with everything, at least this hasn’t changed.

“This is Tsaheylu. The bond. Take some time to feel her, feel her heartbeat, her breath. Feel her strong legs. You can tell her what to do, inside your mind. Remember that as you can feel her, she can feel you, too. Your emotions impact her, your thoughts impact her, so you have to calm your mind.Easier said than done in your case, I fear.” 

You felt your anger pick up and the Pa’li let out a scream and rose on its hind legs, throwing you straight in the dirt. Neteyam laughed, but came to help you get up. As you were removing mud from your face and hair and cursing all manners of profanities under you breath, you came to the bitter realisation this was going to be harder than you thought, especially with him as your teacher. 

He still knew you too well. You slapped his hand away and got up by yourself, indignantly. You jumped back on the Pa’li and tried your very, very best, to calm yourself before making the bond. The horse didn’t react as violently as last time, so you figured you were off to a better start. You calmed your mind as much as you could, like you did in the linkpod, and imagined her slowly moving forward. You smiled when she did just that, no words needed. It was hard to be able to maintain your composure when you were LITERALLY mind controlling another living being, but despite it needing active continuous effort, you felt you were doing a good job. You managed to make her go, sprint, gallop and turn, and despite the direhorse’s best efforts, you were somehow still tightly attached to its back. 

After a couple of hours, Neteyam told you to get off. He told you to follow him, and he took off, not sparing you a second glance. You followed him the best you could for a while, desperately trying to overlook how uncomfortable being barefoot made you feel. You didn’t like it at all, and more and more, you felt your heartbeat picking up in your chest and your knees shaking. You felt beads of sweat getting in your eyes and they stung, so you stopped. Your laboured breath became shallow, and your hands were shaking uncontrollably as you raised them to wipe your forehead. You felt your knees collapse under you, and you knew what was about to happen and that it was too late to stop it. 

“Neteyam, wait up.” You called after the blue boy, slight panic in your voice.

“I thought we were supposed to be racing.” 

“You win, alright? Don’t leave me alone in the woods.” 

You saw Neteyam jogging back to where you stood with a guilty look on his face. “You know I’d never leave you alone.”

He picked you up and placed you on his back. “After 16 years, have I ever left you alone?” 

“Well, you’ve been training a lot recently and I barely get to see you anymore, so I would say yes, you leave me alone plenty, more than I can say I care for.” 

“Well, I want to be strong and capable so I can always protect you. I mean look at you, Tuk’s gonna be stronger than you soon.” 

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” You pretended to ignore his first sentence and how it lit your entire body on fire. 

You walked like this for a while. You placed your head on his shoulder and peered up at the tall trees. Prolimuris were swinging on them, picking up fruits as they went along. You saw two infants following their mother and stopping on the same branch as her, where she passed them what you were sure was a tasty afternoon snack. You smiled contently at the scene, and at the feeling of warmth Neteyam provided. 

“Put me down, I want to walk! I came with you to exercise, not be carried like a tiny Pandoran baby.” 

He did as you asked, huffing at your forever mercurial temper. 

With your back still to him, you let out a laugh and started running. “Race you to the clearing in the distance?” 

He rolled his eyes, and with a laugh, stopped himself. He always gave you a head start. “Fine, but you can’t get mad when I beat you again!” 

You turned around to give him a smile as you were running and loved the feeling of the ground beneath your feet. The only place you could run around barefoot, the only time you still felt alive. 

You came to an abrupt halt when your foot touched something strange, something unnatural. You slowly looked at your feet and froze in place as the smooth pale object made your blood run cold. It couldn’t be. You stepped away from it, not leaving it from your view and slowly, deliberately knelt down next to it. You heard Neteyam coming to a halt behind you, but couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge his presence. Your hands started digging in the ground with morbid curiosity and the sounds around you became muffled as your erratic heartbeat was the only thing you could still hear. You removed the ground around it and tears formed in your eyes at the realisation that this was indeed what you feared it was: a human skull. A human skull you just stepped on. Before you knew it, your hands were reaching for a glimmer of silver shining in the shallow grave. You lifted it to your eye line and heard yourself scream, wail louder than you ever had before. The panic that overtook you was primal, but not unfamiliar and you threw the dog tag on the ground, with enough force you hoped would bury it further than anybody would ever be able to dig. You couldn’t see properly anymore, the tears and dizziness flooding your senses and you prayed you passed out, prayed to make this stop, prayed you were back in your room where your Xanax always lay by your bedside table. In a blind rage, you were clawing at your feet, trying to remove the dirt, remove the skin that stepped on your dad’s dead body like it was a gum wrapper on the pavement. Soon enough, you could taste the metal taste of blood that was lingering in the air and by the grace of whatever spirit was out there still looking after you, you felt yourself collapse in Neteyam’s arms. 

Tag list: @nuhteyam @eywas-heir @fanboyluvr @mashiromochi

[notoriousbeb]

Lighthouse Keeper Tweets

Part Three: February 2024 - July 2, 2024

Back to Part One Back to Part Two

Feb. 5, 2024 (barely) 12 a.m.

"'I have been used to consider poetry as the food of love.'"

Now THIS is interesting. First, this is a Jane Austen quote (from Mr. Darcy of Pride and Prejudice [see 11/28 tweet, as well]). In the book, Darcy goes on to say, "Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Everything nourishes what is strong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination I am convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away." What Darcy is saying here is that he formerly thought pretty words and declarations were enough to sustain a relationship, but he now knows that's not enough. The underlying bond has to be strong first, or it's all for naught. Interesting. Because, my second point about this post is: this is the date of the Grammy's, and the date Taylor announced The Tortured Poets Department.

Feb. 16, 2024 1:30 a.m. BST

"You don't mess with love, you mess with the truth."

These are lyrics from Ellie Goulding's "On My Mind." Someone can't stop thinking about someone!

Feb. 18, 2024 10:45 p.m. BST

"The dirt on my jeans from the mud on the Heath feels like karma to me"

Perhaps someone is starting to realize he fucked up.

Feb. 23, 2024 4:50 p.m. BST "A tangle on the television and the magazine."

These are lyrics from The Arctic Monkey's Teddy Picker. Perhaps, and this is just a guess by me, obviously, but maybe a shot at TK, who was riding around in a rented sportscar, speeding and blowing red lights in Australia while following Taylor on tour?

Feb. 26, 2024 12 a.m. BST

"I've let love be free, and I've let it go. I've let it fade and I've watched it blow."

Sad.

March 20, 2024 5:35 p.m.

"You go back, Jack, do it again, wheel turnin' ' round and 'round"

These are lyrics from Steely Dan's "Do It Again."

March 22, 2024 1:41 a.m.

"One to remember A spill to reflect on High in your bedroom Will you still remember?"

He mentions in his replies that he's "feeling creatively inspired by the people [he's] surrounded with." Perhaps in the studio? A little poem for someone. Reminds me of the "you smoked then ate seven bars of chocolate," line from TTPD song. So, maybe, yeah, she did remember. Gah, these two exhaust me.

March 28, 2024 1:10 a.m. "If you're gonna try and walk on water make sure you wear you comfortable shoes."

These are lyrics from The Arctic Monkey's " Piledriver Waltz. Could be nothing, but it could also be a few things.... Anxiety about the impending TTPD release (thinking about the line "you're gonna shoot me out of a cannon" here). Pics of TK and TS at Nobu that had just popped up where TS looked annoyed as hell. Also there were all those pics of them from their beach vacation. Also, a few minutes before, he'd posted something about the stars, and then deleted it and proceeded to gaslight everyone on his timeline who asked about it. smh.

April 5, 2024 12 a.m. BST

"Would you hear of an old-time sea-fight? Would you learn who won by the light of the moon and stars? List to the yarn, as my grandmother's father the sailor told it to me?"

This is a bit of the Walt Whitman poem "Song of Myself." Has the tell-tale moon and stars, of course. What is he fighting for, I wonder. And who will win?

April 8, 2024 10:35 p.m. BST

"I looked around then for a reason When there wasn't something more to blame it on But, if time makes a difference while we're gone Tell me now, and I won't be hanging on"

These are lyrics from The Eagles' "Train Leaves Here This Morning." Maybe feeling defeated? He's about to leave to go to Japan with TR. When someone mentions in replies that this isn't a happy song (it's not. it's about one of the band members going through a divorce), LK replies: "Or, you could see it as a gateway to happiness. Sometimes the path to joy needs some pruning, and leaving things behind." Then someone else replies, "This is how it has to be though, right?" And LK responds, "I mean... no? Nothing really has to be anything; new things wash up on the shore, seasons pass, gardens flourish and die. Life is ever fluctuating. But also, it's just a great Eagles song." That's some true blue Aquarius shit right there. LOL. Another tidbit from the replies, he likes "Idaho" and "Words" by Gregory Alan Isakov.

April 12, 2024 8:30 p.m. BST / 4:30 a.m. JST

"Take a second, take a minute, take a mile Run the routes, light it up, enjoy the highs"

Probably in Japan?

April 19, 2024 12:31 p.m. BST

"Certified member of The Tortured Poets Department now."

And so it begins, again. Comments in the replies that he's feeling "tortured and poetic." Says he can't pick a favorite track yet.

April 25, 2024 7 p.m. BST

"I won't sit here and wax poetic to try and untangle the way we've crossed each other's firing range"

Sure, Jan. In his replies, he says he's currently inspired by "my life, my fears, my loves, my losses, in no particular order." Also says his current favorite TTPD track, "Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus" "has [his] heart."

April 26, 2024 12:35 a.m. BST

"Love is no more Than the wide blossom which the wind assails, Than the great tide that treads the shifting shore, strewing fresh wreckage gathered in the gales"

Already wrote about this here. My dude here is IN IT. He sarcastically says he's feeling "dazzling," and when asked who he's dancing with he replies, "Myself, my closet skeletons, and my wandering mind!" Cool night, LK. Sounds like a blast!

April 29, 2024 10:55 p.m. BST

"I used your old toothbrush to clean out my keep cup I suppose that's the way things are right now"

A keep up. So, who's toothbrush we talking about here?

April 30, 2024 1:01 a.m. "What are our vices for today?"

I've already posted about how very, very well he's doing.

May 3, 2024 12:30 a.m. "When the garden leaves blow and you jump out your skin once the shock starts to go that's when solitude sets in"

Already posted about this one, too. Tayrry no more?

May 9, 2024 10:40 p.m. BST

"I should think most of my problems are solvable by feeling the sun's warmth and the sparkle of the stars."

He did pop up in a couple spots in London (a cab, dinner and the ballet) the next day with a nice tan! I'd hoped he'd been to Paris, but it was overcast and not very warm there. Maybe he was just laying out in the Heath taking it easy (and maybe texting someone??). In his replies, he seems in quite a good mood and talks about getting high to write. He also replies to a commenter who asked, "Are you watching TTPD livestream from Paris?" LK said, "I had hoped she would come to Eroda. Granted, it would be a lot more intimate than she's used to..." Cheeky, bugger.

May 17, 2024 3:25 p.m. BST

"Would you be angry? At the cruelty of history Fading away the stories we penned For slamming the dot at the end.

Here's how I interpret this: LK is asking the muse, would you be angry at history if it decided this was it for us? If this was where it decided our story ended? In his replies, LK also mentions he’s been doing some “embroidery.” This reminds me of the line in “loml,” “we embroidered the time of when I was away, stitching ‘we were just kids, babe.’” Perhaps LK is musing about memories today. He also says in response to the question “May I ask you what you would change about your past, what do you like about your present and what would you like get in your future?” “I guess there's not much point in thinking about changing the past, and I love the love I have right now, and in the future l'd like to keep that love.” In Haylor news, rumors are that Tayrry has split. Taylor is about to play night one in Stockholm after spending time with TK in Italy and Harry is unseen (rumor is he's out of London doing a photoshoot--perhaps for HS4, I hope!).

May 19, 2024

May 23, 2024

June 5, 2024

June 8, 2024

June 15, 2024

June 16, 2024

June 16, 2024 (2)

June 20, 2024

June 25, 2024

July 2, 2024

[shadows-of-a-memory]

prologue: tcic - d.g.

prologue to “their change in colors (marks their death)”

2001

You groan, massaging your temples, and take a sip of your coffee, only to find it empty. You glare at the paper cup as if it has betrayed you. If you could arrest it, you would. As it is, you settle for throwing the offending container into your trashcan across the room.

You miss.

Returning your attention to the files in your hand, you scan through them for the hundredth time, making sure there's nothing you've missed. The side of your dominant hand is blue from ink transfer, proof of the thousands of tiny handwritten notes scribbled on the yellow legal pad beside you. The words blur together, brain going on autopilot as you mouth them.

“Knock, knock.”

You glance up at your boss, Noah Ellis. “What's up?”

His mouth twitches into a frown as he takes you in. “Tell me you didn't pull an all-nighter again.”

“I didn't pull an all-nighter again,” you dutifully repeat.

He huffs. “Take the day off and get some rest.” Ellis holds up a hand to stop you from responding. “I don't want to hear it. Taking a break will give you a fresh perspective. And make me feel better about myself. I don't want to see you in here until tomorrow morning and if I see a single email or find out you've worked at all, that's getting extended. Get some sleep.”

You glare, but can't respond. You know he's right. In all honesty, until he appeared, you didn't even realize you had stayed up that late, too focused in. “Sir, yes, sir,” you mumble.

“Oh, and take this to Agent Gibbs.” He tosses you a file, causing you to double down on the glare, but he remains unperturbed. “Report's crappy. Can't follow the line of reasoning.”

“Sir, yes, sir.” You snap a salute, receiving a huff and a slight amused smirk in response for your efforts, before heading upstairs to the MCRT's desks. You've heard that there's been some shuffling around--a new guy added two or three months ago, and a new lady added a couple of days ago. A quick scan of the contents of the folder confirms your theory; an Agent Vivian Blackadder is the one responsible for the less-than-permissible report.

“Gibbs,” you greet, forcing a cheery smile. You've interacted enough with him to be on good terms, you think. The man is an NCIS legend, reminds you of a certain Bat, and maybe that's why you're the one they usually send to talk to him. You've had enough experience with being on the receiving end of Bruce's unhappiness that you're unfazed by Gibbs'.

“Finch,” he responds in his usual manner, using your fake last name. When Dick had helped you create your identity, he had vetoed Bennet as an option, saying it was too obvious to base it on a book character from Jane Austen. Hence why you instead picked a book character from Harper Lee. He was a famous lawyer, so you think it helps, too.

“Got something for you to remedy. Hurts the case in court.”

He grunts, taking the file from you and raising a brow as he flips through. “Blackadder,” he barks, passing it to her. The new guy is strangely absent. “Fix it.” He glances back over at you. “You look like shit, kid.”

You respond with a wry smile. “Thanks. Ellis said the same thing.”

“Maybe you should listen to your boss. Take the day off or something.”

You laugh. “Ellis said the same thing,” you repeat, gaining a chuckle from the older man.

“Hey boss,” you're interrupted as a familiar face jogs into the bullpen. “Got a lead on the Martin case.” You take care not to let your expression change, and Dick does the same. “Oh, hey, Very Special Agent Tony DiNozzo.” He adds a cocky smile to the end of it. “Part of the MCRT.”

“Agent Maggie Finch,” you respond, using the same alias he helped you create. “I'm a lawyer downstairs. It's a pleasure.”

He presses a kiss to the back of your hand, reminding you of thousands of times he's done it before, and taps twice with his finger against the inside of your palm. A code. Talk later. “Pleasure's all mine,” he responds smoothly.

“Well, I should be going. Good seeing you, Gibbs. Nice meeting you, Agent DiNozzo. Good luck, Agent Blackadder.” With that, you head out, all too aware of the eyes on you as you go.

Dick can be quite sure you're talking later.

next chapter ->

[readerhead]

Hits different

summary: it has never been so difficult getting over a guy

pairing: Matt x reader

warnings: some angst? idk, maybe if you have abandonment issues can be a little triggering (let me know if you think I should add any)

word count: 1.2k

a/n: okay, I'm really excited because it's my birthday! I wanted to gave you a gift because of that (I don't care that they should the other way around, I'm a giver <3). Now that I'm of legal age in Thailand, I want to communicate you: ANOTHER ONE BASED ON A TAYLOR SONG. Sorry, it's just midnights always makes me think of Matt. It's my first time writing "angst" so I hope you have an enjoyable time reading this :)

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The reflection on the dirty mirror of Josie's was judging you. You were a complete mess, from your hair to your makeup. The long hours taming your hair, quickly went to the trash. All frizzy and disheveled now. The burgundy lipstick, blurred. The mascara, smudged and dry under your eyes. Your dry throat made you gulp and the acid on your taste buds reminded you of how you were throwing up in a stranger's shoes moments ago. A stranger you briefly made out with. Not that you really wanted, but your friends told you you needed this. Finally, you finished washing your hands of your vomit and decided it was time to call it a night. Why was everything feeling so wrong?

Someone called a cab for you. Was it one of your friends? Josie? Perhaps the stranger? Once inside you started weeping, trying to not make any sound. The driver gave you a sad look from the rearview, as if your emotions were contagious.

You remember clearly why your stomach had that reaction. While kissing that guy, you started wondering if he was also kissing others. Did he like another? Was that the reason he disappeared? Was he in love with another? Did he even think of you? The image of him kissing a random woman, being there for her, loving her was what made your insides turn around, leaving a disgusting gift near the bar's door.

“If he’s the one, you’ll know” your friend started comforting you when you started shedding tears at the song that played on the radio on your first date which was blasting through the speakers.

“But he treated me so well. I love him. I’m so in love with Matt that it hurts.” you didn’t remember how you started talking about him, but you also didn’t remember talking about anything else.

“What hurts?”

“My heart. It’s like a little rodent is gnawing it bit by bit, after being sanded down with sandpaper and then burning every piece in the sun. And the worst is that I can't do anything to stop it.”

“Come on, girl. Love’s just a lie. A trick from companies, lawyers and the government to take your money.” another friend tried to cheer you up.

“You’re literally gonna get married in two months.” she shut up knowing you were right. “I wanted him to move in, even gave him a key, and he ran away.” you took another sip from your drink. “He was so perfect. Like out-of-a-Jane-Austen’s-book perfect.”

“He wouldn't be so perfect if he let you go.” you were quiet, thinking. “You know what you should do?” You look at her hopefully. “You should flirt with other guys, maybe kiss a few and if one of them’s lucky enough bring him home. That always made you get over any guy before.”

“Exactly. You used to switch from boy to boy like they were toys. Always saying you needed space or ghosting them. That the freedom felt like a beach breeze.” you were so disgusted. Matt wasn’t a fleeting random guy, he was the man that made you want to settle down. “Always shunning commitment.”

A couple weeks had passed. You woke up from dreaming of him. This time you blamed it on the movie you watched last night. ‘This ending is more realistic, otherwise he had left her’ this was what you said to the screen with your mouth full of popcorn when the love interest died. You found one of his blue shirts in your closet. Damn, you loved how those fit him. You took it and when the scent of him started invading your nose, your eyes started watering like a reflex, without your permission. That morning, every time you closed your eyes you remembered something about him.

“Do you think I can do it?” with his head in your thighs, you were massaging his hair while insecurities about your work were eating you alive. The feeling of his locks and his relaxed face were the only thing easing up your stress.

“Of course you can. You are the most capable person I’ve ever known.”

“But do you believe in me?”

“The faith I have in you could make the big guy up there jealous.” the outside of his eyes wrinkled. The reason? Easy, the sweetest smile you have contemplated in your life. All your self doubting was gone at those words accompanied by that view.

That’s the memory that popped up to your head when you passed the couch in your living room. The next one happened when you were waiting for the coffee to finish.

“That can’t be true! It’s not fair.” the wooden spoon pointing at Matt.

“Yet it is.”

“Bullshit.” he laughed.

“I doubt Columbia taught me wrong.”

“Maybe your professor lied to you.”

“And he took all the time to learn braille so he could change what was written in my books?”

“Maybe. There are a lot of creepy crazy people out there.”

“Could you just stop arguing and give me a kiss?” he said, grabbing the wrist that was still threatening him, getting you the closer he could.

“Only if you agree with me.”

“I agree that it ain’t fair.”

“It works for me.” you gripped his shirt, sealing the conversation with a kiss.

Before him you would have argued that injustice was inherent to human kind, however he made you believe in the good, in people, in this world.

You looked at your phone, killing time scrolling to social media. You saw a post of your friends, they went to a bar last night and you didn’t blame them for not inviting you after the little show you put up on the last night you went out.

Taking your mug you sat in the stool nearest to your fridge, the one that gave you a better view of your hall. Perhaps he would show up. At least that's what you told yourself every morning when you had breakfast sitting there, boring your eyes in the door as if it was going to make him materialize.

People usually talk about opportunities as trains and you were more than willing to take it, but you were waiting in a disused station waiting for one that never came again. You were exhausted from all these metaphors in your life, reminding you how you lost him. You had enough with literal events. It wasn't easy seeing him in the news a couple days before when his firm won a big case against some big fish called Fisk.

You were so immersed in your thoughts that you almost didn't hear it. What was that sound by your door? You didn't want to get hopeful, it could be just your neighbor. Was that a dingling in your lock? The only one with your house keys was… It couldn't be him, could it? Were you still dreaming? The expectation had you holding your breath and, when the door finally opened, you didn’t know how to feel.

“I know you probably just want to kick me out,” did you? You had daydreamed hours and days about this, how would it be like the next time you see each other, if he would be the one reaching out for you, if he would really want you back. “you have every right to do it, but at least I think you deserve an explanation. Then, if you want me to leave, I’ll understand.”

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a/n: am I a bad person for leaving an open ending?Maybe? Anyways, the song is 'Hits different' by the genius Taylor Swift. I know it's in the title but I put it here in case someone doesn't know it :)

[dioscouroi]

What’s up readers?! How about a little show and tell? Answer these 13 questions, tag 13 lucky readers and if you’re feeling extra bookish add a shelfie! Let’s Go!

I was tagged by @lady-evelin (thank you for this! 😘🥰)

1) The Last book I read:

The Plague by Albert Camus

2) A book I recommend:

Awww, this is a difficult question because soooo many books come to mind. Let's see, definitely Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, also Coraline by Neil Gaiman 🥰

3) A book that I couldn’t put down:

Persuasion by Jane Austen. I just loved it!

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë, and also The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald.

4) A book I’ve read twice (or more):

The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint Exupéry. It's just a book that offers me a lot of comfort when depression and anxiety are taking a toll on me ☺️ it reminds me that there are good things in life and that I have to go on.

5) A book on my TBR:

The Outsider by Albert Camus

6) A book I’ve put down:

Well, please don't kill me, but it's Pride and Prejudice. (I've tried to read this book in it's entirety three times. But, whenever I'm halfway through, I just can't take it anymore. It just doesn't click with me for some reason.) 🙃

Also Villette by Charlotte Brontë (I really tried... But couldn't get past chapter four)

7) A book on my wish list:

A hardcover edition of the Odyssey that I saw at the bookstore on the neighboring town a week ago. The artwork of the cover was amazing!

8) A favorite book from childhood:

The Hobbit 😚

9) A book you would give to a friend:

The Silmarillion by J.R.R. Tolkien, so that we can suffer together and cry over the deaths of our favorite characters in that book😂 (because it you like a character in there, their death is almost guaranteed! 😂)

10) A book of poetry or lyrics that you own:

Shakespeare's Sonnets

11) A nonfiction book you own:

Meditations of Marcus Aurelius

12) What are you currently reading:

The Call of Cthulhu and Other Weird Stories by H.P. Lovecraft 😁

13) What are you planning on reading next?

I'm torn between re-reading a few of my old books or sacrificing some money that I've been saving to repair my laptop to get a new book instead 😵

Ah... I tag @heretolurkandnothingmore , @tideswept , and... Whoever wishes to do this I guess 😅 (to those I tagged, sorry if I bothered you! There's no pressure!)

[ariainstars]

The Genius of Georgette Heyer

Georgette Heyer, an Englishwoman who lived from 1902 to 1974, is one of my favourite novelists, and I often reread her books or at least some parts of her books just to retire into an agreeable world. She wrote historical novels and thrillers, but I must admit I don’t like these very much. To me, Heyer’s genius was giving a breath of fresh air to the overworn genre of romance novels set in the English Regency era. (Although some of these Heyer novels like These Old Shades or The Convenient Marriage are set during High Rococo.)

In my opinion Heyer is highly underrated, standing in the shade of the more known Jane Austen or the Brontë sisters, books women most relate to when they want to read historical romance novels; Barbara Cartland is also more known, an author whose works are too saccharine for my taste.

Austen’s or the Brontë sister’s novels are not actually romances although they are often described as such; they are accurate portrayals of the society the authors lived in, romantic attachments playing a major role of course, but the focus is on the importance of family and society framing them and influencing them, for good or for bad.

I always found myself drawn to Heyer’s stories, long before I fell in love for the first time myself; the average romance novels get on my nerves. Now, and after having experienced love more than once, I can say that I wholly share Heyer’s approach that no matter how much in love you are has no influence on whether you and the object of your interest fit together.

The common trope in romances is “love conquers all”, which I personally dislike because it strips the protagonists of having their own mind and their own agenda. “Love” makes the choice for them; they don’t consciously choose to be with this person or other. Alternatively, the protagonists are “meant for each other” but “star-crossed”, i.e. circumstances or their own folly (or both) prevent them from being together, in which case the novel is framed as a tragedy and we are expected to cry buckets over it.

This is fortunately not the case in Heyer’s romance novels. Like Cartland, she writes of an England that was long gone before she was born, of course in a romanticized way. A lot of her stories mirror how the do’s and don’ts of those times, in particular in the upper class, influenced their lives and made it very difficult to navigate society.

Georgette Heyer’s genius is her capacity to imbue old tropes with new elements, and most importantly, to detach herself from the adage “love is all you need”. Without being sarcastic, she is at her best (in my opinion) when she weaves stories about people who realize that being in “love” is not that important at all. Her romances do end well, yet not due to the influence of a higher power but because the couples involved had the chance to realize who is the right partner for them to spend the rest of their lives with. Her heroines are usually headstrong, independent and reasonable; they may act on a whim or following their heart, but it is when they listen to reason - or are pushed to do so - that they finally get their happy ending.

Warning: spoilers ahead.

The Cinderella Trope

Arabella, and also Friday’s Child and The Convenient Marriage deal with the subject of a poor, or at least modest-living, female from a good family being launched into London’s high society by a strike of good fortune. In the latter two novels, this includes for them the chance to buy a heap of beautiful new clothes, strongly reminding of the Cinderella trope.

But Heyer would not be who she is if the novels would not be original in their own way: Arabella, far from being a modest, kind girl, pretends to be a rich heiress in order to “show his place” to a man who believed she wanted to ensnare him due to his wealth; Hero from Friday’s Child and Horatia from The Convenient Marriage both do not end but begin the story through marriage, and the plot unfolds as they slowly realize (and their respective spouses, too) that they have married the right person after all.

Finding Love in an Unexpected Place

In The Convenient Marriage, the Earl of Rule is ready to marry a certain girl to make a match, arranged years earlier, with a poor but very aristocratic family; it is on meeting her younger sister that he realizes “he does want to ally himself with the family”, to put it in his words.

In The Quiet Gentleman, as he has to deal with conspiracies and attempted murder, the protagonist Gervase Frant learns to put his trust in a female he first found dull, and who is not aristocratic the way he is.

In Sylvester or The Wicked Uncle, the Duke of Salford is at first disappointed by Phoebe, the girl his mother and her friend had chosen for him, and she doesn’t like him any better; they have to live through a number of adventures, together with friends and family, until they realize that they fit together perfectly.

In Sprig Muslin, Sir Gareth Ludlow overcomes his grief over his lost fiancé due to being responsible for Amanda, a girl of similar temper, and getting the chance to compare her to Lady Hester, a shy, unremarkable woman whom he liked but did not appreciate enough before. A beloved theme of Heyer’s romances is brought up here, too: having the same sense of humour shows to be indicative for two people fitting together.

In Charity Girl, notorious bachelor Viscount Desford gets involved both with a very beautiful girl named Lucasta and another, quite helpless damsel named Cherry, but none of them turn out to be right; instead, he finally realizes that Henrietta, an old friend of his, whom he had not wanted to marry years earlier, is the right mate for him after all.

In Faro’s Daughter, Mr Ravenscar gets interested in Deborah, a girl who works in a gaming house, which makes her free game to all men who visit it although she is a decent girl and only wants to earn a living for herself and the aunt who owns to place. A parallel is made through the protagonist’s niece Arabella, forever being in love with one guy or another but then refraining at the last moment. Finally, her uncle gives her a sound advice: that only if she will meet a man whom she will be ready to introduce to her family, she will know that he is the right man.

In False Colours, twin brothers Kit and Evelyn literally switch their places, one of them finding the right girl in the process by getting to know his brother’s prospected bride.

In The Foundling, the Duke of Sale is all but pushed to make an offer for Harriet, a girl he likes but is not in love with; but as he lives through some adventures and meets Belinda, who is very beautiful but also superficial, he learns to appreciate his future bride better and to realize that he would not want to be married to anyone else.

The Wrong Match

In An Infamous Army, Lady Worth wants to match up Colonel Charles Audley with Lucy, but then has to find out that the sweet, innocent-looking damsel is already secretly married, and that the temperamental Lady Barbara whom she had not liked for him is exactly what he needs since she has courage and straightforwardness.

Not Falling in Love at All

In A Civil Contract, Viscount Lynton, heir of an impoverished family, marries the shy and average-looking Jenny, the daughter of a rich, vulgar merchant to keep his family out of debt; she loves him but is aware of the fact that he does not requite her feelings, since he secretly loves Julia, a beautiful woman who does not have much money of her own. It is only as the plot thickens, the woman he loves marries another man and his wife gives him a son that he realizes “his Jenny” is the best wife he could have found.

Falling Out of Love

In Friday’s Child, Lord Sheringham believes to be in love with Isabella, an acclaimed beauty, until he has lived for a while with Hero, the young woman he had married on a whim. “Bella with her airs and graces, her moods and her sharp tongue! No, thank you!”

Isabella on the other hand was about to contrive a brilliant match, but good sense makes her refuse it after all. “When I thought how my life would be, that I would have to spend the rest of my life with him… oh, I could not!”

In The Grand Sophy, Cecilia is besotted with Augustus, a very romantic but unreliable young man. After a trying period spent nursing her small sister, who was critically ill, she finally realizes that the less romantic but more worthy Lord Charlbury who had offered for her in the first place is a much better partner for her.

In Cotillon, Kitty enters a fake engagement to teach a lesson to Jack, the man she is in love with; but when she comes to London for a while and learns more about him and the world, she slowly realizes that she was in love with a figment of her imagination, and that Freddy, the man she is engaged to, is a much better person.

“He seemed like all the heroes in the book, but I soon found that he is not like them at all.” “No. I’m afraid I ain’t either.” “Of course not! No one is.”

Heyer’s chief oeuvre in this respect is in my opinion Bath Tangle, where Serena and Lord Rotherham, both hot-tempered protagonists get engaged to someone much gentler than them, only for them to realize that they would not be happy with them. The heroine’s fiancé Hector gives her up amicably, having also found a much better life partner.

“You are a grander creature than I even imagined.” “And you are the kindest and best of men, but not my love!”

The “Pride and Prejudice” Trope

The themes of Jane Austen’s famous novel is upended in Faro’s Daughter, where it is the man who has a strong prejudice against the girl, whom he inevitably believes to be a scheming, money-grabbing minx because she earns her living in a gaming house. The girl on the other hand has strong personal pride and would never accept money from anyone, or accept marrying or becoming the mistress of a man for whom she doesn’t care. Far from declaring his devotion to her, the man insults the woman repeatedly, before he finally realizes his mistake and also that she is the right mate for him.

The Beauty and the Beast Trope

In Black Sheep, the protagonists Abby and Fanny are aunt and niece, both at the same time in love with two members of the Calverleigh family who both have a bad reputation; but while Beauty (the niece) has to realize that the man she had fallen for was only after her fortune, non-Beauty (the not quite so pretty, but intelligent aunt) realizes that the uncommon Miles who gives nothing on society’s standards does care for people, and that he is the broad-minded, worldly-wise partner she exactly needs.

In Venetia, the person falling out of love is a Edward Yardley, a sidekick, who really ends up being disillusioned; but the story had made it abundantly clear that he had been a fool all along to believe that he and the protagonist would suit. Venetia, the Beauty, has to find out that she cannot tame the Beast Lord Damerel, and that she wouldn’t want to do it additionally. The Beast is not a bad man but someone who does not fit in with society; which makes him ideal for her since she does not, either.

This trope is brought to a climax in Lady of Quality, where the protagonist Annis, who never felt the slightest interest in the gentlemen she met, on getting to know the rude but protective and straightforward Oliver finally gets to fall in love, despite the fact that they argue frequently. At one time she muses that “Surely kindred spirits did not quarrel?” only to then add mentally, with a little self-irony, “How mawkish!”

If you are tired of Jane Austens’ prim heroines and the Brontë sister’s drama, I invite you: give Georgette Heyer a try. Her novels are entertaining but neither flat nor sentimental, and I always find new layers and aspects in them when I reread them after a few years. Her heroes of course live in an idealized world, but it’s just what you might need after a hard day’s work. 😊

[wine-dark-seashells]

Over-analysing the books we saw referenced in Season Two (which I watched all in a go last night from 11pm to 4am and therefore am a little hazy on). If someone has already done this I bow to thee I just couldn't find you.

It's not reflected in my blog but one of my main special interests is Good Omens (and has been since I first read the book, a bit before season one was released) y'all I am ugly crying over the season two finale. If I've missed any books I'll just edit I guess I don't have access to the show anymore so I can't double-check anything. I KNOW Muriel was reading a book that wasn't The Crow Road but I cannot for the life of me remember what it was.

The Colour of Magic - Terry Pratchett (under I for In): On a surface level, it's a fantastic little nod to Mr Pratchett, the book that started the Discworld, and, to top it off, one of the best covers in existence. Funnily enough the same edition we always stocked when I worked in a bookshop but that's not important.

On a deeper level, think about the plot in bare-bones terms. Incredibly naïve tourist from an other-worldly place shows up in a grimy but incredibly magical city with a very odd box and spends his entire holiday with a wizard who is bad at magic. It ends with the tourist floating off into space to go see other worlds. Sounds familiar, right? I'm shaking this season like a small child with a maraca and I am chewing the plot until it is tasteless.

The Crow Road - Iain Banks (under I for It): Look, this one is so obviously significant that multiple people have done it already but I'm adding layers. Crowley gives it to Muriel in the last episode, I'm sobbing, but it's actually first referenced by Gabriel when he's "sorting". The tile is a fairly common metaphor for death, such as he's away the crow road. Other than the fact that it's literally part of Crowley's name, crows are a death omen. He gives it to Muriel for so many reasons and I don't know how it was intended originally but they're curious about humanity and The Crow Road contains one of the most fundamental parts of being human - asking too many questions.

Also, The Crow Road contains a lot of themes centred around death, mystery, and quite a bit of questioning of religion. It could be interpreted as a tell towards Crowley's real feelings about the finale. Metatron is death for him, as a demon, and he's just taken Aziraphale away to "chat". Remind me to actually write down my interpretation of the finale some time.

Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen (under I for It): See, this one has actual plot relevance and therefore is explained in the show so I don't really think it needs an explanation. However, it is a neat little plot device to show how Aziraphale and Crowley have had very very different experiences with, and therefore perspectives on, Jane Austen herself. I think that's a pretty good way to show how they think and differ from each other in their shared experiences. Also, spitballing here, Crowley is Pride and Aziraphale is Prejudice. ("Of course you turned down Hell, they're the bad guys. Heaven is... good!")

A Tale of Two Cities, Book One - Charles Dickens (under I for It): Come on. This wouldn't need an explanation except, once again, chewing here.

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times..." is the only bit Gabriel reads out loud, but the rest is along those lines (give it a read, it's fun). All one sentence. I don't really think it needs a huge amount of explanation, except that to me Dr Manette is Gabriel. Quite a bit of the first book is about his release from jail (and, to top it off, he was there because he reported the abuse perpetrated by members of the aristocracy and was put away under a lettre de cachet, something signed by the King and at least one of the King's ministers which could not be appealed). He's briefly taken in by a former servant (who goes on to be instrumental in the Storming of the Bastille) and the man's wife, who own a wine shop together. I am going insane.

No, I did NOT forget Good Omens (under I for It): History repeats itself over and over and over -

I need to go drink some water but Mr Gaiman sir how'd I do.

[seeingivy]

Ronnie Ronnie Ronnie 🤭 I know you’re such a Taylor fan (Swiftie??) and lowk you might just get me to listen to her one of these days.. but have you ever heard of laufey??

Im absolutely in love with her music, I could go on about it for hours 😭

oh. oh. have I heard of laufey????? I INHALED BEWITCHED LIKE I WAS EATING DINNER. I LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LAUFEY HER MUSIC GIVES ME SOME NEXT LEVEL DELULU.

one of my favorite movies of all time is pride and prejudice (2005) for many reasons - kiera knightly, matthew macfayden, the cinematography, the best jane austen book eva, kiera knightly again, and THE SCORE.

swooping and swelling orchestral music is so, so special to me and it tickles my brain in the right way AND I JUST LOVE the instrumentals in her music it always reminds me of that fjdklsjfkdlsjfkldsjkfls

[tonydaddingham]

LWA: Some more idle thoughts about narrative construction and both seasons, prompted by your reflections about AWCW's inability to see consequences and Aziraphale's already-vivid awareness of them.

Crowley's and Aziraphale's pre-Fall selves are already set into their post-Fall approaches to consequences. Aziraphale, given adequate data, is very good at predicting the most plausible consequences of any given action; unfortunately, he's also very good at predicting consequences when he only thinks he has adequate data, which leads to repeated disasters (both the 1862 fight and the end of s2ep6 being the most obvious examples). It's not an accident that he's good at interpreting prophecy. It may also explain the weird Jane Austen misreading, which has nothing to do with how Aziraphale fell in love (past) but everything to do with constructing an iron-clad narrative in which there's a definite, logical romantic outcome (future). AWCW is politically naive, but fallen Crowley /still/ can't predict what ought to be the completely logical consequences of his actions. (Hence perhaps his own misreading of Richard Curtis, which mistakes the climax of a romcom for its inception.) S1ep1 keeps coming back to the fallout of Crowley pitching his stories too well to his demonic audience. He takes down the cell tower and does himself in, turns the M25 into a sigil and both gets trapped on it and temporarily murders an awful lot of people, and...then there's my favorite bugbear. Fans tend to overlook the likely outcome of Aziraphale giving in to Crowley's manipulation and killing the Antichrist, thanks to Madame Tracy stepping in, but beyond the cruelty /this is not something that Aziraphale could have survived/ (figuratively or literally). I was thrown straight out of the S2 episode in which Crowley gives away the entire bodyswap to Gabriel/Jim during his "protective" outburst, because as script-writing goes that there was a decision, but I have to grouchily concede that if Gaiman were to show up and remind me about the child murder business, he would have a point about narrative plausibility.

Crowley genuinely doesn't appear to believe that his relationship with Aziraphale has a developmental narrative. There's no story to be told about it. As I've said here before, his accounts of their relationship do not square either with what's on the screen or with what the actors have said they're playing. For Crowley, they've always been friends, they've always been a couple, they've always had the same kinds of conversations, whereas what's dramatized onscreen is a more heavily-romanticized take on the /book/ narrative, in which they gradually become friends over the course of centuries. There's no sign that /Aziraphale/ believes they've always been friends or a couple, which may be one of the reasons that Crowley's confession doesn't land.* In fact, one of the things that is now starting to bug me is the problem of Aziraphale's relation to Crowley-as-angel, because Aziraphale's problematic assumptions about fallen Crowley's continuity with AWCW (he's not trying to reverse-engineer Crowley, he really believes demon!Crowley effectively still /is/ angel!Crowley, just grumpier) mirror Crowley's refusal to acknowledge that his relationship with Aziraphale has an actual plot.

My take is that Aziraphale could obviously have done a much better job, Crowley-wise, of accepting the Metatron's proposal, but there's nothing to indicate that he could have done anything /else/. It's not just a mirror of Beelzebub's ep1 proposal to Crowley, but a warped mirror, in which the whole point of the "coffee or death" dialogue is that the Metatron is not really offering Aziraphale a choice in the matter.

afternoon LWA, hope you're well!!!✨

i didn't think to look laterally (not to this extent, anyway) at aziraphale and crowley when comparing their pre-fall selves with them later on in the narrative, but that's really fun to consider!!!

i absolutely love this interpretation of aziraphale's inner thought process, because whilst i had never really thought to see aziraphale as having an analytical personality type, he absolutely does; his approach to pretty much anything appears to be very systematic. in fact, im struggling somewhat to think of an instance where im confident that aziraphale reacts completely intuitively... maybe when he squares off against satan (crowley comes up with the time-stop, but where aziraphale chooses to face the devil down feels like he does so without any idea of how it could end)? any other action aziraphale takes, or words he says, feels like they've been very carefully deliberated over before delivery, even if he knows the outcome is going to be... well, shit.

you mention 1862 and ep6 as two examples, but, to me, aziraphale's way of thinking vs crowley's (which i'll come back to) is just encapsulated neatly in the entirety of s1; there are so many examples of where aziraphale consistently reacts to incoming data (when he discovers it or - when he deigns to - when crowley tells him stuff), and acts accordingly, and then immediately cycles back to analysing the result when it doesn't work.

my day-job (GO is practically The Other Job at this point) is largely based around analysis and research, and i regularly use a few thought models (maybe not consciously, but it's second nature at this point) in approach to a problem/question. so looking at the overall context of s1, aziraphale appears to follow a similar process:

scanning (identify the problem: the apocalypse)

analysis (gathering information/data, and identifying mitigating factors or outlying data: e.g. the hellhound conundrum, agnes' prophecy, adam is in tadfield, heaven actively wants the apocalypse)

response (how can the problem/question be addressed, and take into account any extraneous data that may affect the result: e.g. stop the dog, return to tadfield, engage shadwell and the WA, consult a higher authority through the portal, finds a human to 'possess' and get to tadfield)

assessment (the impact of the response, and any splinter effects or conclusions that the response initiated: e.g. realising that they had the wrong boy, identifying the right boy, where the apocalypse would happen, and that he and crowley were alone in stopping it themselves).

the last bit is especially indicative to me of aziraphale being analytical; he hears crowley say that god would not speak to him, but he still tries because it's a viable solution to scrutinise, and when it fails he immediately re-evaluates and then contacts crowley to try out an alternative, and share the information he has, because ultimately crowley ended up - on this count - being correct in his own initial, instinctive assessment.

obviously those phases of problem-solving throughout s1 are non-linear, and instead completely cyclical; aziraphale takes into account different factors and data at individual points in the story, and repeatedly comes up with various options in which to respond to problems as more data materialises - he continuously reassesses. initially, his approach to the problem of armageddon was to Not Act, and allow it to happen, because it was the great plan, and as an angel it was logical to him that whatever god had planned was for the best, was what was always intended, and would only ever be Good because... well, it came from god, right? had he perhaps thought a touch more intuitively, followed his instinct (which is arguably to thwart armageddon, the same conclusion crowley arrived at), he would have probably leapt on the chance to follow crowley's proposal... or possibly even proposed it himself.

but as it stands, he doesn't, and crowley gives him reason after reason to do so. all of this builds as significantly compelling data to aziraphale - to the point that when he's fully analysed (at this point) the potential outcome of Not Acting vs. Acting, he chooses to Act - a conviction that he sticks to. even at the bandstand, he doesnt sway on wanting to stop armageddon, but that the way that crowley proposes they do so not only directly conflicts with aziraphale's moral boundaries (killing a mf child), but also conflicts with aziraphale's sense of logic and reason (running away). and then as a last thought for aziraphale; he goes to instinctively shoot adam when crowley pushes for the last time, and is immediately thwarted by madame tracy - she does it as an emotional, knee-jerk, moral-based, human reaction, "you can't just shoot children!" - but given that that reaction is what aziraphale actually agrees with, it only reinforces that his way of thinking, logically and analytically, is the correct one, just because they happened to arrive at the same conclusion.

but this is where crowley comes in. crowley on the other hand acts very intuitively, instinctively, and i daresay emotionally - his immediate reaction to delivering the antichrist is panic, and to immediately call aziraphale (the narrative at the very least doesn't show any kind of analysis of the issue on crowley's part - would he have arrived at a different response if he had? and plus, as you say, him taking down the phone network was a class A monkey-paw job, well done crowley). but then he goes on to convince aziraphale into stopping armageddon with him (which, admittedly, does work, but only once crowley changes tack, stops invoking the emotional, and instead lays out the logical, does aziraphale agree).

when the issue arises of the hellhound (which, let's reiterate, crowley did not think to tell aziraphale before this point...), and the prospect of their upbringing plan not working because of this, crowley's reflex is to destroy the antichrist completely - but tempt aziraphale into doing it. when aziraphale pushes back on this more resolutely at the bandstand, crowley's immediate instinct is to just run. fair enough, given that crowley ends up being correct that aziraphale's resolution to beseech to heaven will just go ignored, but he similarly doesn't consider that aziraphale needs to test the hypothesis first, engage a more methodical and strategic approach, before resorting to more scorched-earth measures.

but as you say, this definitely harks back to the pre-fall scene. narratively, we still don't have any confirmation on what leads to aziraphale having any concept of punishment, or a sense of consequence; there is no iron-clad context (that I can see anyway!) as to why aziraphale would start to formulate this rationale - that asking questions might lead to a larger, damning (ha) consequence - when we can only surmise up until this point that angels would consider their creator as benevolent and omniscient.

AWCW presumably doesn't mean anything nefarious behind his questions (i think that can be reliably interpreted from his behaviour and delivery), so why would god ever punish him? this is beside the point, however; in any case, crowley tends to rush to a response, to act, without stopping to consider other factors, other data, and the potential consequences. in the pre-fall scene, if he had acknowledged the warning, the 'data', as it were, that aziraphale was giving to him (that something could go wrong if he continue the path he's walking), he might have arrived at the same action but with considerably more caution, and potentially prevented what happened to him (which, in contextual hindsight, is not necessarily a good thing). we don't have the full narrative yet to tell us what exactly happened during AWCW's fall, but it does seem like crowley is a chronic case of "fuck around - find out."

in this respect i personally find it entirely in character - and rather in-keeping with crowley's overall narrative in both s1 and s2 - that crowley reveals the ruse of the bodyswap in s2; he's not thinking about the consequences that it could have, but thinking entirely based on instinct. he's not thinking about whether gabriel/jim might remember the information, whether gabriel (regardless of his presumed reformation of character in ep6) might exploit that information, but entirely acting on the emotional wave that gabriel is posing a direct risk to aziraphale's safety and wellbeing. plus, we don't know how long he was sat in justine's restaurant for; it's entirely possible that he was three sheets to the wind by the point aziraphale happens upon him.

once again! not sure i arrived at a point! but i think in hindsight this is a really interesting way to read the final fifteen; it's fairly obvious that crowley is acting and reacting emotionally during the feral domestic, and aziraphale is - as metatron-aziraphale theories are indicating at the moment - acting and reacting based on a conclusion he's arrived at from data we've potentially only partially seen/data hidden in plain sight. but then we switch to aziraphale saying "i need you!", which is a hitherto uncommon emotional outburst from him, and crowley... saying nothing. is that crowley's way of thinking logically, analytically? because anything he says is not going to change the outcome - aziraphale will ascend, he will not, and they will still be apart?

on the note of their relationship, it's a really interesting dynamic - how crowley and aziraphale both see it from their perspectives. on one hand, you have aziraphale that goes from crush, to acquaintance, to confidant, to friend, to best friend and person he's in love with. crowley's perspective is... well, it is the same, right? so why does he retrospectively suggest that it's something that it, by all accounts, wasn't? look, maybe crowley was in love from the wall, immediately fell for aziraphale when he told him about the sword - but that's not what's actually shown in the narrative, to the audience. so... if he did, did he even realise it? is that why he looks back on their history as being something that, as far as shown to the audience, it isn't?

the s1 flashbacks are all shown from aziraphale's perspective (why am i only realising this now) - mesopotamia, golgotha, rome, arthurian england, 1601, 1793, 1827, and 1941 all show aziraphale first. the scenes are all set up with aziraphale opening them. it's only eden, uz, 1862, and 1967 that show crowley first... and all of them are pivotal moments for crowley's character development, as well as the development of their relationship specifically. that they learn to confide in each other, then they learn to trust in each other, then they learn the extent of what they mean to each other, and then they learn (or acknowledge) the danger of them being together.

so actually - does crowley think that there's no plot to their relationship? or is it that by 2023, he counts on the fact that the plot has already happened? that the biggest problem they confronted in his view - the holy water and the breaking away from heaven and hell - has been resolved (see: it hasn't), and that they've now reached the happily ever after? rather than the fact that we are actually only just getting to the climax of their personal story? which is also likely the stage that aziraphale was at by ep5, and is considering that crowley, by the time of the confession, is still a chapter ahead? "you go too fast for me, crowley."

(christ i don't even want to know the word count of this answer)

and this is similar potentially to how aziraphale sees crowley own angel-to-demon-to-just-crowley development; that he thinks that crowley as a person would want to be an angel again, "just like the old times, only even nicer", because why wouldn't he? he's a good and kind person, why wouldn't he want to be restored to the station and to the place that - in aziraphale's view - inherently embodies that? heaven has been corrupted, and he could make a difference, but heaven was always meant to be the place of good... right?

well, once again, aziraphale is without data - he doesn't, presumably, fully understand why crowley couldn't ever become an angel again, couldn't set foot in heaven again (not in that capacity, at least). so the conclusion he draws absolutely misses the mark; thinks this is the long-awaited happily-ever-after for crowley, when actually crowley is perhaps a chapter or two behind. s2 has shown more that crowley is able to somewhat accept that he is a good person, but he still has a way to go before he fully acknowledges it, and reconciles that with the, we can only guess, full circumstances of his fall.

last point - so glad that someone else spotted the mirror of the beelzebub proposal in ep1 to the metatron proposal in ep6; i think i gasped when i realised the implication of that conversation between beelzebub and crowley!!!✨

[unsociableandtaciturnbarbie]

I have a confession to make (or maybe it’s not a confession because I’m not super subtle about it), I read Jane Austen and her associated works for romance; sue me! This semester I feel as if I’ve been very focused on class dynamics, stylistic choices, and historical accuracy, but somewhere in there I lost the reason why I even picked up Jane Austen in the first place: the love stories. Sitting in class today while listening to myself analyze why it’s socially acceptable for a servant to kiss someone instead of talking about why I think it’s really exciting that they were kissing, I came to this realization that I had completely lost some of the simple joy in Austen while analyzing it. Reading Longbourn has been really fun for me, and while the cool and smart reason would be because of the interesting ways in which different worlds (the world of the rich and the world of the servants) are created and traversed by different characters, the real reason is because I NEED to know if James and Sarah are going to end up together. Reading Longbourn has reminded me that, yes, romance can exist in the bounds of Jane Austen, and it’s okay if I spend most of the book living for the slowburn of James and Sarah because they’re really cute together and I’m always a sucker for a grumpy-sunshine trope.

As such, I decided to create a meme really going back to my roots. It’s based on the sad hamster memes where first someone states something and then the sad hamster is supposed to be your disappointed reaction to it. I decided to create this meme where someone, perhaps a real historical accuracy Jane-ite, is saying that romance can’t exist within the bounds of Jane Austen, and then I’m reacting to it in front of Pemberley because it’s THE place for me in Austen, holding Longbourn because it’s the book that fills my romance-loving soul and reminded me of my Austen roots, Ao3 because it’s the place to really get the mushy gushy romance content for Austen that I want, a tote bag with the hand flex and “you have bewitched me body and soul” quote to represent my favorite movie of all time which gives both the Austen content and mushy romance content (I love the US ending and will die on that hill), and a letter that has the first proposal from Darcy to represent that romance does exist in Austen and it’s legal to like those parts of the book best. Don’t get me wrong, I do love a good analysis, but I think sometimes it’s okay to enjoy a piece of fiction and not tear the romance to shreds for the sake of historical accuracy or making a point about Austen’s motivations which I have definitely been guilty of. 

On that note, I have a confession to make about a discussion we had in class like a month ago and brought up again in class today as a fact that we agreed on, but I actually have disagreed with it this whole time and I need to put it out there. I do not agree that Elizabeth fell in love with Darcy because of his owning Pemberley. I think Elizabeth fell in love with Darcy because of the Darcy he is at Pemberley. When she arrives at Pemberley she makes some comments about how lovely it all is, but she still doesn’t want to see him. She starts to feel a bit more amiable towards him only after the housekeeper tells stories of him, but up until she runs into Darcy, she’s reflecting on how glad she is that he’s not coming back until the following day. It’s easy to attribute her love of him to Pemberley, but it’s more complicated than that. After the visit with Georgiana, we get this quote: “As for Elizabeth, her thoughts were at Pemberley this evening more than the last; and the evening, though as it passed it seemed long, was not long enough to determine her feelings towards one in that mansion; and she lay awake two whole hours, endeavouring to make them out”. Her thoughts were not “of” Pemberley, they were “at” Pemberley which I think is a really important distinction because the paragraph would still function with “of Pemberley”, but Austen specifically doesn’t write that here. Also, the rest of the passage goes on to list off his qualities that she’s beginning to fall for and not once does she mention his riches, even in a like, “What a good bonus!” way.

I’m going to plug the musical below here again (it’s really good), so if you start at 1:24:04 and watch to 1:28:13 there’s a song called “That’s Not the Man That I Know” that I think really captures this whole idea. The tone of the song starts very combative, like Lizzie is battling with the idea of the Darcy she knows and that of the Darcy she’s hearing about. She softens a bit for a second where we get the “oh he has a nice house” but she goes right back to the combative tone upon seeing him. If it had truly been the house, she would have completely softened to him the moment she recognized that Pemberley is quite nice. However, the tone doesn’t soften to a real affectionate tone until he’s conversed with her aunt and uncle and invited her to dine with Georgina, real evidence that Darcy at Pemberley really isn’t the man she *thinks* she knows and this to me shows that the real Pemberley effect is that of Darcy at Pemberley, NOT the riches which Pemberley represents.

[digitaljaneaustenproject]

What Jane Austen Taught Me About Running Zoom Meetings

Many of our social interactions happen digital these days, even “face-to-face” ones like Zoom meetings. It’s still just not the same as in-person, whether for meetings, a book club, or just to hang out. There must be a better way to gather digitally. I think a big piece of why digital isn’t working is that we don’t have social norms there.

Social norms are what make a conversation flow smoothly. You see it in how close you stand or sit together, how you take turns, and in the type of space you choose. Basic videoconferencing has none of this: we can’t control distance, audio lags or mutes, and it’s almost always the same black screen of videos from job interviews to birthday parties.

Some tools try to mimic in-person social interactions and norms in digital meeting spaces, kind of like a video game. Each person has an avatar that moves around a digital space and hears nearby conversation. The word for directly recreating things or experiences into digital tools is skeuomorphism. It’s easy for people to learn because it’s just like the other familiar version. But it also can point out the ways that digital just can’t be the same as in-person. Making a videogame-like social event does bring some social norms into that digital conversation, but it also reminds us that we aren’t in person, we can’t shake hands, we look at the whole room like a map instead of from our eyes.

So digital doesn’t work and just mimicking in-person doesn’t make it all intuitively work. So I’m going to look for new social norms.

Actually, I’m going to look for really old ones.

~~~

Regency era England definitely had well-established social norms. Think Jane Austen’s books, like Pride and Prejudice, or Netflix’s Bridgerton. The middle and upper classes of that time easily knew what to expect from each other and what would be expected of them just from where they were and what was going on, thanks to social rules and etiquette. At least some of these social norms feel overly strict to a modern eye. And this is actually what I was looking for with digital social norms. Computer rules are also very, very strict (eventually it’s all 1s and 0s). They don’t give us wiggle room within the rules. In a lecture, you shouldn’t talk, but you can whisper to the friend next to you. But try whispering in a Zoom meeting while muted. So what can Jane Austen’s social norms give digital meeting spaces? I have 3 ideas to start.

~~~

1. Being a host is a social job, not tech support

The host of Regency ball had little in common with a Zoom host. On Zoom, hosting is muting and unmuting attendees, managing recording, and placing avatars in different rooms; tech support. Being a Regency host was social, they greeted each person on arrival, introduced them people they should know, and generally showed them what the ball had to offer. And this was before they entered the ball.

I think it would be nice to not just appear in a sea of black squares, not knowing who was there and not knowing if conversation had already started. Imagine a one-on-one greeting between you and an organizer who took you to a small group of peers and introduced you, or brought you to the full group after explaining that people are waiting for the actual book club to start but can join breakout rooms to chat in the meantime.

~~~

2. Dancing lets us get to know each other and the group

Don’t worry, I am not going to ask you to dance in Zoom. Like I said, I’m not here for skeuomorphism. But a major reason for dancing at balls (you know, besides it was fun) was a chance for two people to chat one-on-one and for the larger community to know who was chatting with who. Everyone saw who was dancing not just by looking at the dance floor, but also by looking at people’s dance cards (which they carried or hung on their wrist) and seeing whose name was written for each dance.

Hybrid teams struggle to get to know each other because they mostly communicate through text or in team meetings with little time for social chatting. Us remote workers miss having a space to just talk, not about work or anything in particular. We could make digital meeting spaces that use voice chat to let pairs of people quickly connect and talk, and use a digital dance card to let the group see who’s been chatting with who.

~~~

3. Candles set the stage and expectations

Little details at a Regency ball could give important cues to attendees. The length of the candles burning in the rooms would tell people how long the ball was expected to last and that told them what was available at the ball. Short candles? A few hours of dancing and some food. Long candles? Settle in for a long night and look for places to take a break with card games or other amusement.

Digital meetings spaces are entirely missing this. Zoom always looks the same! It doesn’t matter if I’m playing a game with my family or presenting a progress report. The skeuomorphism can help here to bring in the same cues we have in person; make the background a living room for game night or an office for the presentation. But sometimes that just reminds us that we’re not in a living room together and might make the video uncanny. I want digital meeting places to have décor cues that are all their own. Because digital meeting spaces are not just replacements for in person ones. They’re something new and I want us to really explore what we can do with them.

[more-than-a-princess]

Bridgerton!

SEND ME A FRANCHISE OR SERIES AND I WILL TALK ABOUT IT - Accepting!

JUNE 13 IS ALMOST HERE! I will not be replying to threads on Thursday. And possibly not Friday as well. Season 3 Part 2 drops and I need Polin like I need oxygen-

With that in mind, hi, I'm the Bridgerton fan, it's me.

I was about halfway through Season 1 when I decided to read all 8 of the original series back-to-back, so while I wasn't a book fan from the start, I've kept them in mind when watching the last half of Season 1 and the subsequent seasons. I like the fact that this series, written and acted, really seems to embrace historical fantasy. It's a romance series and not meant to be historically accurate at all, but I think it gives a fresh take on the Regency period that differentiates between Jane Austen and all of the various offshoots and adaptations. It's also just a visual treat, y'know? Polyester lace and plastic beads and sequins certainly weren't around in the 1810s, and yet it's just plain fun to watch.

When ranking everything, I think Season 2 is my least favorite of the seasons so far, which is apparently a spicy take on the internet. I didn't like how the show handled Edwina in correlation to Kate and Anthony, and I was disappointed to see how Kate and Anthony's engagement scene was cut from the show, or at least was depicted differently than in the book. The book version made me, truly, laugh out loud (just like Eloise facing her brothers in Book 5! I actually repurposed this exact type of scene for a RP thread a little while back because it was just too fitting).

In my other terribly spicy Bridgerton take: I think Penelope's outing of Marina's pregnancy in the show was valid. Pen has done a lot of wrong things, but Colin needed to know the full story about Marina before he agreed to marry her. I know there are lots of fans who see Penelope as the devil for this in Season 1, and while Pen isn't perfect, I think this was the morally right thing to do.

Other things I hope for in the show (as the books are done, there's little reason to speculate about them):

Season 4 is either Benedict's or Eloise's season, depending on how the last four episodes of Season 3 go. Francesca will be in the background to some degree with her husband, though I hope a certain cousin is introduced in this season or next, cough cough.

I hope the show doesn't keep all of the book canon love interests, actually. If only because Benedict's book and LI are some of my least favorites in the entire series, and I think Eloise's book love interest doesn't need the spotlight on this show because, frankly, he kinda sucks. Can you tell I didn't like her book much either, save for when her brothers come to 'rescue' her?

If this show does not include Michael Stirling (or the genderswap version that's a very prevalent rumor right now), I riot. When He Was Wicked is the best of the books, fight me.

If this show does not include Gareth St. Clair, I will riot but riot a little quieter. He is so underrated.

Let. Cressida. Be. Sapphic. The show is hinting at this SO MUCH. Just go through with it, showrunners! Give her a yearning crush on Eloise and actually be clear that she is, indeed, sapphic!

Queen Charlotte is, IMO, becoming a little stale on this show. I would not be upset if she didn't return in Season 4. In reality, Queen Charlotte died in 1818, so even with the show's messy take on the timeline in comparison to the books, it would make sense that she will be passing away in the next few years.

Violet needs her garden watered and Lady Danbury needs to deal with the fact her brother can oblige. She slept with Violet's dad, Violet can sleep with her brother.

Colin and Penelope can likely disappear after Season 3 but I will be sad about it. I love them. LOVE. THEM.

Nicola Coughlan is an actual queen and always fabulous. She's been killing it this press tour in her outfits, support of Palestine, and calling out chauvinistic male reporters by reminding them she has perfect breasts. She is ICONIC. I still need to watch Big Mood but Derry Girls is amazing, watch Derry Girls if you haven't yet.

And with that, I need to run out to the post office! I have yards upon yards of fabric to send to my dressmaker who is making new two new Penelope gowns from Season 3 for Dragon Con this year.

[brighteststar707]

Hey Faye! Hope you're doing well! I wanted ask your thoughts on number 2 for the ask thing for Jumin.

I feel like he'd enjoy reading for some reason and he really likes the classic romance novels. His favorite is Persuasion by Jane Austen. Or if we're talking modern classics I see him as an Outsiders kind of guy. (He loves the family element, reminds him of the RFA in a way-)

Anyways, enough of me chatting! Have a nice day!

Hello hello! Thank you for stopping by! I'm doing well, and I hope you are too!

I agree that he prefers classic romance novels - something about the way romance is portrayed in those books compared to the ways he has been forced to experience it in real life perhaps?

I haven't read Outsiders, but I definitely see him enjoying books that are about family dynamics and found family. Anything that reminds him of how much he cares for the RFA.

2. Are they big on books? If so, do they read books as they buy them or end up with a long to-read list?

I definitely see him as the bookish type. I think he keeps up a pretty consistent reading schedule where he has a book always ongoing. I imagine that he reads on his way home from work perhaps, or in the evening with Elizabeth III on his lap, and before he goes to sleep.

His collection of books is a bookworm's dream, but it definitely skews more classic than modern literature. Aside from that, he has a pretty wide range of books, from nonfiction books to quote books (including the ones he wrote and the ones his father wrote). Classic fiction and obscure books on ancient magic and vampire biographies. He approaches each book he reads with the same earnestness, regardless of the subject matter. He particularly likes books that give him a peek into a life that he'd never be able to experience otherwise.

I don't think he keeps up a constant to-read list, except for rare books that he likes to collect. He likes to pick up books without knowing much about them before starting, perhaps on the recommendation of his father or the RFA members (or you!). If he finds a book that relates to something that they're experiencing currently, he'd probably pick it up to see if it could help them somehow.

Also, I think he'd read any books or texts relating to the roles Zen plays. It helps him to grasp Zen's struggles in embodying different complex characters and means he can give advice based on his own interpretation of the story. If Zen takes that advice is a different story (though he's always surprised at Jumin's knowledge).

headcanon ask game!