#gale is also very sweet but also the fact that it’s so early on makes me wary DJSJSJS

[lyriumsings]

watching more baldurs gate cutscenes and like halsin,,,,him big,,,also like so cute like 🥺🥺🥺🥺 he just seems so sweet??

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Dear John | Part 2

Masters of the Air Fanfiction

Part 1

Series Summary: Major John Egan wasn’t the pen-pal sort but a couple of hours into a dark night full of writing condolence letters he finds himself wondering why he never tried his hand at the nicer forms of correspondence. Who better to reanimate his numb inspiration than the glamorous Miss Lana Tierney? -the army’s girl next door, the pinup so prolific she was practically a wall paper print and Bucky’s long-standing cinematic crush. It’s not like she’ll read it anyways. Right? Right.

Warnings: suggestive language, crass vocabulary, the vintage form of sexting -honestly this is mostly fluffy in reply to his more overt letter

Author’s note: after episode four I’ve got feelings and fics for this universe that are far ahead of these establishing pieces. So I’ve gone ahead and tossed this preliminary one out but I may very well skip around and ahead to October next. At least now y’all know: she wrote him back. Hehe. If it’s of interest, I’ll probably end up writing John’s reaction to receiving this response as well as Gale’s response to realizing his friend actually went and sent that awful thing.

Date: Early August, 1943

Dear John, (I’m sorry Major Egan, I just had to)

Thank you for your kind letter of the 18th. It’s been many years since I received so delightful a correspondence or so candid an expression of admiration. And you should know I keep most of the letters the sweet people of this country send me. They’re stacked in quite an orderly fashion in my various garages, kept for the rainy days to peruse and keep the blues away and also so I might try very hard to reply. I don’t take such affection for granted. It’s humbling really, always has been, to be so loved by folks but it’s another level entirely to be singled out by someone as brave and impressive as yourself.

I found your letter to be heartfelt and wonderfully brave and in an effort to be equally transparent, you should know that when I finished it I clutched it to my breast and whispered half a dozen prayers for you. Or as you might say, I held it to my knockers.

That’s an awful word, you must know that Major.

As is “rack”, for that matter, but I’ve a sneaking suspicion that you would make it sound charming as even your blotted paper was electric. How could you dare to praise my film set flapjacks and mention making babies? I’m fizzing just glancing at it. You really must be quite the fella and I’m terribly sad now that our rendezvous, such as you say it was, got cut short. You must reprimand your friend -Buck, is it?- and tell him he did an bad deed that night. There’s nothing I like better than duets and hamburgers, we might’ve been one of the great loves by now if he hadn’t meddled. But don’t be too hard on him, if he’s the sort to take it well, kiss him for me, after you chide him.

But since we are being honest, I must admit, reading your letter, being privy to your thoughts, seeing myself through your eyes as it were - dear man, I feel rather riled. Quite riled, in fact. Why, I haven’t felt riled in a while, not like this. Not like an ordinary girl with an extraordinary boy. Do you know what I mean?

Maybe you don’t.

I mean regular, old fashioned flustered. That’s what you’ve made me. And thank you for that, John. Can I call you Johnny? I wonder if you’re the nickname sort, or if you’re real stern and serious, a real John-John. Not a Johnny at all. But either way, I think you deserve a treat, for being so nice, Major Egan. For reminding me I can feel my pulse somewhere besides my wrists before a show -and for all you’re doing in the war, besides. There seems to be no safer hands to trust this to, you do seem so very fond of them, I am led to believe you’d be protective of them, too.

Enclosed is something for the personal morale, I hope you’ll think of me nightly with it at hand, in fact, I’m so excited about it I’ve taken this ill advised measure to insure you do. I’d very much like a report, do they live up to your expectations? They’re homegrown, after all, I hadn’t much say in them but now I’ve got them, I don’t see why they shouldn’t do their bit to keep you alive. A small sacrifice.

One of those reasons you mentioned, John, you’ve so many of them, more than you know. A million souls over here rooting you on, insisting you make it out the other side.

I’m forefront among them, I’ll be scanning the crowd when I come to Europe -because I will, at your invitation. Perhaps if you send me a picture of your own mug I won’t be looking a fool asking every man in uniform if I remind them of an acorn. Are you going to tell me what on earth that means? I’ve tried to work it out but I always end up with some mathematical conundrum and I just know in my heart of hearts you wouldn’t let me down like that, would you Major? It’s something awfully salacious, isn’t it? Please let it be!

I’m a vain little thing and I can’t deny the way this poor heart of mine is all pitter pattering at the thought of you being so awful while also so nice. It’s a strange blend, and rather like my coke, I do prefer my men mixed.

Best wishes, may you have cloudless skies and fresh coffee to your heart's content. My sources -and I’ve excellent ones, an upside of working the war bond circuit- tell me you’re airforce. I think that’s remarkable and I hope you give that picture some thought. Mine, and yours.

Your vain little friend,

Julia Jean Turner

P.S.-I’m only ever ‘The Lana Tierney ‘ to strangers, and we aren’t strangers now, are we? not if you’re to take my picture to your bunk. i suspect you may have already taken that liberty. who’s to say I did not take similar liberties upon reading certain stirring passages of your letter? Xx 💋

__insert vintage titty pic__

Whew this week was a doozy wasn’t it? Here’s some fluff for those of y’all who needed it, and I can promise angst soon for those who want to stay in the soul shattering mood. Hope you enjoy. Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, let me hear your screams.

Drop a comment to let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any of my MOTA fics. Xo

Taglist:

@stylespresleyhearted

@ab4eva

@earth-to-lottie

@suraemoon

@blurredcolour

@steph-speaks

@crazymadpassionatelove

@rubyfruitjungle

@taestrwbrry

[galedekarios]

good day! thank you for beautiful visuals and metas of Gale, its great to find fans who care about him so! You got me thinking - for a character so romantic, so delighted to be in love Gale knew little about it with Mystra. He spoke about being her lover like it was a highest honor, losing her favor, being cut off described as fate worse than Netherese Orb itself. Gale agrees to die for her forgiveness no questions asked. All this while he realises deep down even through it was voiced later - he was her plaything, another mortal falling under her spell, no love requited ever could be there, gods don't feel it. It's very sweet and a little heartbreaking, how open and smitten he can be if romanced, how happy he becomes loving and being loved in return.

thank you for your wonderful and very sweet message, anon. 🖤 i really do appreciate it.

yes, that is everything that i find very touching about gale's romancce.

to me, gale is someone who hasn't truly known what love is yet. he has known worship and obedience, wonder and pleasure. i think, considering how young he was when mystra came into his life, it's perhaps no surprise at all that once their relationship changed, he may have thought it was love between them. it was most certainly for him. in fact, i do remember a particular line from early access that always stuck with me and truly showed the imbalance at work here:

Player: What did Mystra’s attention feel like? Gale: Love. 

and

Player: Teacher’s pet, was he? Gale: He fancied himself much more than that. He fancied himself favoured above all others. Perhaps it was not quite love, but you see, the wizard was but a very young man. It was most certainly love to him. Mystra showed him the secrets behind the veils. The gossamer veils first, draped across the Weave. The delicate veils next, draped across her body. ‘Chosen One’ she whispered, as she slipped them off completely.

and even now, in the full release version of the game, that sentiment still lingers. he wasn't just her chosen, he was her lover - and we learn throughout the game what love truly entails for gale: heart, mind, body and soul.

Gale: I'm many things to many people, but I'm never a man to throw the l-word around lightly. I said exactly what I meant: I love you. You should never, never doubt that. - Gale: We didn't just make love. We bonded, body and soul. I got lost in you.

with mystra casting him away, he not only lost his power, his status, but also one of his most central relationships with the goddess who was his teacher, mentor and love all at once, all at the same time.

but we also know that he had relationships before mystra and before the protag:

Gale: No, you are not the first. Though you are the first since my relationship with Mystra came to its ignominious end.

i think this quote is just so interesting, especially if you pair it with:

Gale: To know you love me for the man I am, and not the magic I command... None have loved me so purely before.

and:

Player: I love you. But for the man that you are. Not the god you'd pretend to be. Gale: But think what I offer. The vastness of eternity to explore, the Weave at our fingertips... You would really prefer me as I am? Node Context: Genuine, vulnerable - the player just told him they loved him in a way that no one else has

so whatever these relationships before were, it's clear that something was missing from them for gale. something that gale sorely needed.

all of these little puzzle pieces combine to a larger whole of why we find gale as he is when we meet him in the story: someone who very much is struggling to find any worth in the person that he is outside of what he can provide to be useful.

Gale: Let me make myself indispensable. - Gale: I'm indispensable, aren't I? - Gale: My best is yours. - Gale: Please - continue to believe in me. I want to show you the wizard I am capable of being, rather than the poor excuse for a man who's kept you company thus far.

there are so many more of these, following the same vein, even in act iii.

gale is only now learning how to be loved, how to allow himself to be loved, and under that continuous reaffirmation given by the protag, he opens up to it, strains towards it, like a flower to the sun.

Gale: You truly are a soul that steels my own. From all my new-rallied heart I thank you. I stand at a precipice, but if you do not give up hope, neither shall I. I'll fight, I'll resist - as long as I can. - Gale: You give me hope, and I've not had that in some time. - Player: How are you feeling? Gale: Worried, if I'm being honest. I have so much to live for - more than I thought I'd have again, after Mystra. - Gale: It's been so long since I used it. Gale Dekarios cuts a poor figure next to the wizarding prowess of 'Gale of Waterdeep'. Player: Gale Dekarios. I think I like him more. Gale: You like so many things about me I'd have sooner discarded... Your generosity is quite wonderful. - Gale: You see me as I am, and do not find me wanting.

he still has a very long way to go, to heal, it's not a process that's completed by the time his quest is completed or the game ends - and depending on your protag, they too have things that still weigh heavy on them as well - but it's a beginning.

[pearl-kite]

I have been TAGGED (by the wonderful @evilbunnyking thank you muah <3) to share 5 songs I really like, so! Let's Get to It (〜￣▽￣)〜

Ultimate favorite #1: Under Pressure by Queen. Do I need to link it? Y'all know it.

You know how sometimes it's hard to pin down a favorite something-or-other? Not song, this is hands-down my favorite. Ever. Always. I was a full-ass adult in my 20s before I realized that when it says Queen and David Bowie it meant David Bowie is actually singing in it I was ASHAMED how i I even whaaaat Fun fact: the CD I grew up with that had this on it has a slightly different edit than the regular one, so any time I hear it on spotify or the radio I go a little crazy because it's off.

The rest are going under a cut because I'm linking in youtube videos so you don't have to go anywhere or interrupt any current playlist you've got going <3

#2 Currently on Repeat: Can't stop listening to Matt Maeson's Problems

I don't regularly use the repeat button, actually, I'll just hit back at the end as many times as I feel like, but I've done it, I've put this on actual repeat. I've also been alternating a bit with his Sanctified as well, idk what it is but both of them are an infection right now.

#3 A long-term favorite: Paranoid by Sfven

Found it ages ago and it really jived with Gale; if it shuffles through I'll give it a good listen or four. Not sure why the video looks like it was made in the early 90s. Honestly a little off-putting to me but the audio is what matters, okay.

#4 A LONG-long-term favorite: Jewel's Amen

Oh man. I fucking love this song. Top 5 probably. My dad had this CD and I kind of made it mine. Then lost it. So I bought a replacement. And lost that one. And third time's the charm I still have the replacement's replacement. I think. Somewhere. She ended up being the first concert I went to, a small little acoustic one in the local Shriners' center.

But just. The feel of it, the imagery, I still want to draw something for it that really connects with me for it but it's just uakygfkfausdgf I can't :C

#5 (Sort of) Local Plug: I Hope You Know by Supaman ft. Ashley Hall

Supaman regularly visits the first school I worked at, and so many of the students there look up to him for good reason. He's a good guy, he fancy danced at the Macy's Parade, and he makes music that relies heavily on blending rap with traditional instruments and vocals. If I remember correctly, some of his videos show him dancing, if you're interested. I like this one in particular because Hall's vocals are so pleasant, I love multilingual songs, and they sampled a western meadowlark and you cannot go wrong with western meadowlark noises. I hadn't actually seen this video version before and it's very sweet 🥺

Honorable mention musicians/groups that I don't see mentioned often but deer lord this kind of got out of hand already: Run River North Forrest Day Isador Magic Bronson The Hush Sound

Do NOT under any circumstance assume there's a theme or common element across any of these.

I suppose I'm supposed to tag people, so hmmmmm @glassbearclock @taelonsamada @andr0leda @inedibleobject @fooltofancy @elemenepee And uhhhhh anyone else. I have some new mutuals and I am not brave enough to be the first person to tag in this relationship, and I also don't want to just tag EVERYONE so there are still people to pass it along to, so if you don't see your name here pretend it is (if you want)

[swifty-fox]

I DID enjoy the re-reads and will continue to do so. Listening to 1940s big bang swing and sipping my tea, it’s the perfect read 👌🏼👌🏼

The other thing about KFAK that I love and wanted to mention was that I love the family you built for John. It explains his lack of letters while also giving him a complex but loving home which is super interesting. And the added layer of his war service directly contributing to the family’s rise from relative poverty….how John Sr squared getting his sons service cheques while also not letting him write? Wow.

I like to imagine that in an AU of your AU that if John was allowed to write home he may have had enough of a general emotional outlet to also have the time to figure out his feelings for Gale and let them get together BEFORE the war ended but y’know that just didn’t happen for him!

The tragic historical gays really do just appeal to the lesbians what can we say! I’m behind on the HBO specific WW2 series (MOTA is my first) but the time period has always interested me (and so I’m happy to also see the historical accuracy in KFAK btw like I can tell you are fact checking things lol).

And it makes total sense that stereobone is your friend bc you’re both great authors! Need to drag myself back to tumblr just to engage in the beauty of the MOTA fandom let me tell ya!

Best wishes!

omg pls ur so sweet. I have so much planned for this story. lots of follow up one-shots and the like.

So it started out as me wanting to do this lil 10k oneshot of John bringing Gale home to meet his family and then I realized how do I follow the canon of John being like 'oh I have nobody to write to" while ALSO wanting Gale to be loved on by a whole clan of Egans. Thats what I came up with, especially inspired by like Tolkein and his son as well as Hacksaw Ridge and these men going off to war and coming home and thinking they did it they did the work so their sons could be safe. And then it all happens again. How do you cope?

John Sr. is so important to me, he's truly a standout character to me and I WILL be exploring his POV at some point

And the added layer of his war service directly contributing to the family’s rise from relative poverty….how John Sr squared getting his sons service cheques while also not letting him write?

I-

hold on.... hold on *opens my kfak notes* I DIDNT EVEN CONSIDER THIS OMGGG I might have to touch on that now somehow some way I love it.

I think even if John had been able to write home we would still be in a similar spot for a myriad of reasons. I very much want to keep this true and honest to sentiments of the time period in that John would not be accepted by his family if he were gay/into men. I will say that Edie does figure out John and Gale are an item sometime in the early fiftes, though never says anything beyond vague implications of acceptance and John does come out to Ma Egan in the late seventies a few years before she passe. Introduces Gale as he special friend :)

Lmao in terms of research....

[letters-from-dekarios]

[[This neatly folded letter stands out amongst the chaotic aftermath of last night’s revelries with the tieflings.  It sits on top a book of poems written in Elven.]]

Gale,

Since our provisions were already lacking before the party, I left early to see what else I could buy from the druids.  However, while I was going through my things, I remembered I meant to give you this book.  I found it somewhere in that destroyed village, so some of the ink may be smudged and stained.  But you’ll find most of Ardenvarn's words remain legible.  While it didn’t help me regain any memories, some of the ballads were familiar to me.  I think I enjoyed this one in the past.  And I thought you might be in need of new reading material.  

I hope you accept it as part of my apology for anything I might have said at the party last evening.  I fear I might have overstepped boundaries yet again as I did when we channeled the Weave.  I never would wish to make you uncomfortable and should’ve considered my words and actions more.  

I enjoy your company and value your friendship.  You’ve also been an amazing teacher with your late night history lessons on Faerunian history.  With my particularly vile affliction and past actions, I know I am not deserving of your trust or patience, and I am incredibly grateful that you’ve chosen to stay with me.  I do not expect anything of you, much less for any reciprocation of interest.  Just know that I am appreciative of all the kindness that you’ve shown me thus far.  

After this whole adventure of ours is over, I hope that we might keep in touch, but, between our moment in the Weave and last evening, I would understand if you might prefer space.  I swear by my oaths that I will respect any decision that you make in the matter. 

Kaylen

Sweet Kaylen,

Truly, I thank you from the absolute bottom of my heart. From the depths of my soul, I cannot express how deeply grateful I am that you thought of me in such a way. You will be happy to know that I have begun reading this lovely thing, and every notation reminds me in some way of you. If you’d indulge me, perhaps I can share my thoughts on these poems one day.

Refrain from offering apologies, my friend. I’ll have you know I rather enjoyed that little adventure of ours. It is not every day one gets to experience the Weave in such a light. Mystra is a complex Goddess, holding her power in the palm of your hands is not an easy feat for someone untrained. It paves the way for such feelings to become prominent, and, well, I cannot deny that it wasn’t unwanted.

You can rest assured knowing I am in the least bit uncomfortable by that night. Our joyous connection within Mystra’s embrace is one to be celebrated, not apologized for. You are quite the scholar, picking up my little tricks very quickly. I was rather impressed.

I am ever thankful that, despite our current situation, I was placed with a group such as this. Save for the vampire, I’m still deciding my opinion on him. With you as our grand, fearless leader, I am ever inspired to continue in our perilous adventure. You may believe you’ve given us, or me, no reason to trust you, but believe when I say you’ve proved time and time again that I have every reason to place my confidence in you. In fact, I’d rather you than myself. Which is quite a thing for me to say! I often find myself a little too proud, it’s nice to be reminded of the extent of my abilities now and then.

Kaylen, I’d rather no one else but you have their interest piqued by my quirks. I am honored to have such a place in your mind, and the invitation for more… in-depth lessons with the Weave remains ever open, if you’d ever take me up on them. It is only by the kindness you showed me upon our initial meeting that I can extend the same towards you, do not forget that.

I would be fooling myself if I said I’d wish for space. During this mess, and after, I’d hate to lose whatever this may be. You are the light that provides me with a purpose to continue on, Kaylen. Swear by your paths to stay ever close to my side, instead.

Thank you, sincerely, again for this book. I will treasure it until my last breath. That is something I will swear by.

Your magical companion,

𝑮𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒌𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒔

text reads: gale dekarios

[stoneinyourshoe]

oh goshhh the buckies being dads to a little ballerina is so sweet. imagine them figuring out how to do her hair and watching her recital so proud 💞💞

honestly I don’t even know what to say about this because it makes my head spin I love it so much 💕 I hope you don’t mind but uhhh. I did a thing

okay listen I went back and forth for like an hour because idk if we’re talking canon or a modern au here. but. honestly. as I was thinking about it the modern-ish (I’m probably thinking early 10s here) just. fucking works.

also, I do want to point out that I’m not adopted and I’m not a foster care kid. I’m not from the States. I’ve done some research in my days, but I can’t say for sure that any of it is actually correct. Adoption and fostering is a complex topic that deserves to be discussed, but I am probably not the person to go to if you want facts and correct opinions.

Gale and John are “only” looking to foster, and even though they want children in the future, they’ve both decided it really means in the future.

It takes some time to set everything up, and they take classes and do their research and all that, and it works. It works very well, in fact. They both love it, it feels as if they’re both helping, both of them had shit childhoods in one way or another and they feel as if they understand the kids to a degree.

queue to little Ava being brought to their care. She’s just a baby when they meet her the first time, and when they see her it’s as if they both just know. It feels as if she’s their kid already, which they shouldn’t be feeling. They’re there to help, and be a guardian and an adult that the child can trust, not become their parent. That’s not what fostering is about. Ava still has her biological parents, and they still have their parental rights.

It’s safe to say that when they meet Ava, they start to seriously look into foster to adopt options. For Ava’s sake, they want things to work out with her biological family, but they’ve done this for long enough by now that they’re almost certain it won’t. It takes a butt load of time, but by the time Ava is three, the court terminates any parental rights her biological parents have. When Gale and John are asked about adopting her, they say yes. They’re reluctant to take any more foster kids until she has settled in and say as much.

Again, adoption takes time. It’s all made a little easier by the fact that Ava already knows and trusts Gale and John.

when she’s adopted, they let her help redecorate her room. she gets to pick the paint color and the furniture.

the first one she meets is Marge. They’ve meet very briefly before, and Ava is a little obsessed. Marge always wear pretty dresses and has her hair up and looks almost like a princess and Ava really likes that.

then, she meets the Egans. She immediately charms John’s mom and his sisters and she loves all the attention. The first time they meet, Ava and John’s youngest sister run around playing in the yard. Gale tells Ava not to get her clothes wet because they’re still going to the grocery store today, but obviously that little rascal isn’t listening. They’re running through the sprinklers for well over an hour, and when Ava comes back inside she’s soaking wet. Gale can’t be upset with her, though, not when she’s smiling so bright she might as well be the sun.

John’s mom says there’s plenty of clothes in John’s old room, and John and Ava go to find something else to wear. Ava finds a pink, frilly little ballet outfit that doesn’t really fit, but she refuses to wear anything else. John even tries to give her a Mickey Mouse onesie but she’s determined to wear the pink tutu. She looks adorable, so, John allows it.

John’s youngest sister is so happy to see the little outfit and teaches Ava some very basic steps. Ava eats it up like she’s just been taught how to solve every problem on earth.

They sign her up for ballet classes the same day, because she walks around on her tippy toes all day (and for the next two week) because she’s a ballerina.

they come with her to her first practice, both watching the entire thing because that’s their little girl.

she doesn’t miss a single practice. not one. not even the time Marge asks if she wants to go shopping (Marge offers to take her another time)

Gale tries his hardest to learn how to do her hair from a YouTube video, but eventually gives up. He reluctantly asks one of the other parents for advice, and John seriously considers growing his hair out to let Gale practice. They’re in the middle of a semi-heated debate about it over lunch one day when Marge says she can teach them and that they can practice on her. John picks it up faster but Gale is better at it.

one day in October Ava says she doesn’t want them to come to practice anymore. Gale worries about it for all of five seconds before the dance teacher lets him know that they’re practicing for the Christmas recital.

her first recital is a baby version of the nutcracker. make it like twenty minutes and for five year olds. and remove the fucking rats because they’re creepy as hell.

everyone is there, obviously.

John cries (he’s the first one to cry). Gale cries. Curt cries. Croz cries. Rosie cries.

the only one who doesn’t cry is Marge, and it’s only because someone has to keep it together and because she has seen this a million times already when she has helped Ava practice. But at the same time she has never seen it with the little outfit or the music playing and she’s grown so much since she saw her the first time and maybe Marge is crying a little bit after all.

When marriage is legalized in 2015, Gale and John get married. Not as soon as it happens, but they start planning for it when it’s made legal.

Ava is their flower girl and dances down the aisle in a baby pink romantic tutu.

When she’s a little older, she gets to star in the nutcracker for real. The usual suspects show up, and everyone cries again. Turns out Rosie filmed the whole thing the first time she ever performed, and even though she rolls her eyes and calls him a sentimental old man, she secretly thinks it’s super cute and she appreciates it a lot but she’s like seventeen and can’t admit that.

I was going to add a little blurb here but it's slowly turning into a bigger project than I anticipated so you'll have to do with this for now <333 thank you so much for sending this, it has been on my mind CONSTANTLY since I saw it <3

[lovebiteshard]

okay im posting my writing be nice… nice and kindness i havent written in a while and half of it was done at 4 am so i apologize for any bumps

was very inspired by the fact that bards can polymorph and i was also very gay

There are times when the strain of the world is more than Arcangelo wants to deal with. The average person may choose to take a walk, but vampires tend to draw wandering eyes no matter where they go. It’s much easier to be someone- or something- else. Perhaps a bat? No, he’s not too keen on echolocation. When the world becomes weary, Arcangelo most prefers to spend some time as a cat.

The freshly-feline boy sets off into the forest. It’s a quiet autumn afternoon, the only sound being the pitter-pats of his paws against the dirt- and the occasional crunch of a dried leaf left in his wake.

The place isn’t so foreign, he’s done this before, but he has to admit a different perspective can drastically alter the way one experiences things. The small stream he stepped over the other day becomes a minor hurdle for him now, and the mossy log he didn’t pay much mind to becomes his new solution. Despite all of nature’s splendor, Arcangelo can’t help but feel a little.. well, lonely. He’s grown rather accustomed to the silly chatter of his companions. He turned fluffy tail, headed back for camp. Surely there’s got to be someone there for him to pester.

He ducks under a fern, surveying his options as he gets closer to his friends. Shadowheart looks busy, and Lae’zel looks.. A little miffed. Gale looks to be rather into the book he’s reading- or maybe he’s considering taking a bite out of it- and Astarion… hm.

The vampire spawn is sitting down, leaning against a tree. To anyone else he’d look care-free and relaxed, but he’s got a look in his eyes that suggests he’s centuries deep in thought- making him the perfect person to pester- Arcangelo decides. No one needs to wallow this early in the day. He makes his way over to him, rubbing against his leg in hopes of getting his attention.

“Oh?” Astarion looks down at his companion, who chirps expectantly at him. Even as a cat, Arcangelo demands a proper hello. “Hello darling…” A pause, and then a smug smile. “Little love, did you perhaps lose some weight?” He receives a rather sore meow in reply. “...Mm. Well, I thought it was funny. Perhaps you’re just a spoilsp- Darling, be sweet. Don’t bite me.”

Arcangelo closes his mouth. Looking up at the vampire spawn with big ruby eyes, he musters the sweetest mewl he could possibly produce. If a cat could smile, he would have. “Yes, yes. You’d never do such a thing. How could I be so foolish.” Astarion nods, grinning. “Who in their right mind could ever believe that you’d ever bite a soul. A vampire biting someone. Unheard of-” His playful teasing is interrupted by slight pressure on his leg.

Arcangelo prods him with his paw, meowing as if to inquire. Another gentle prod, and Astarion nods in understanding. “Of course, dove. Absolutely.” He pats his thigh gently, and Arcangelo hops up, curling up comfortably in the other man’s lap. “Aren’t you just the sweetest thing…” Astarion coos, slender fingers tracing shapes in Arcangelo’s fur. The vampire-turned-feline only purrs in response, his tail slightly curled in contentment.”...such a beautiful boy- even when you’ve got paws.”

[seasonsofeverlark]

Apple Cinnamon Buns

Author: @hutchhitched​

Prompt: visual prompt [submitted by @mandelion82​]

Rating: T

Summary: Katniss and Prim enjoy a late fall day at a Christmas market when Katniss discovers a booth that sells the most delicious treats and run by a delectable man with deep blue eyes and wavy blonde hair.

Author’s Note: Visual prompt under the cut.

_________

Katniss shivered and tugged her fleece jacket tighter around her shoulders. She was used to being up this early but not surrounded by people at this hour. The sun was barely over the horizon, but Panem’s Harvest Festival was already in full swing. Prim, her little sister, bopped along beside her, a grin on her face, as the Everdeen sisters prepared to take the world by storm.

Or attempt to get ahead on Christmas shopping, at least. It wasn’t that serious.

“Who do you have to shop for?” Prim asked, yawning as she spoke. She wasn’t a morning person, and the fact that she’d pestered Katniss for weeks to attend as well as gotten up early when she didn’t have to was evidence enough the Harvest Festival was important to her.

“Not too many,” Katniss answered, rolling her Christmas list like a movie trailer in her head. “Gale, Mom, Uncle Haymtich, you. The usual.”

“Gale, huh? Is that because…”

“We’re just friends, Prim. I’ve told you that a million times,” Katniss insisted. “I’m not interested in anything else. Neither is he. I’m like his little sister. He doesn’t look at me that way.”

“Maybe you’re not interested in anything else, but I’m about a thousand percent sure that he wants more than friendship from you.”

“Whatever.”

Katniss didn’t mean to be dismissive, but what Prim said just wasn’t true. Gale and she had been best friends for years, and there’d been nothing between them other than a deep friendship the entire time.

“Agree to disagree,” Prim chirped, thoroughly unconcerned. “I have to get something for Mom and Haymitch, too. Let’s work on those, and then we can take off on our own to finish shopping. Sound good?”

“Sure.”

They ambled together, strolling through the stalls, checking out crafts and decorations and all sorts of unusual things Katniss would never have thought would make good gifts until she saw them. They decided on an antique brandy snifter for their uncle and a basket of pampering products for their mother before separating to shop for each other. Katniss had just found and purchased a really cool pocketknife for Gale and the softest pair of cashmere gloves for Prim when she turned the corner and spied a refreshment stand. Her stomach rumbled at the sight.

“Oh, I need some of that,” Katniss murmured, her eyes wide.

She approached slowly, reading signs and sniffing the different aromas that wafted from the stand. Drawn by the promise of something delicious, she drifted close before stopping and staring. She could almost swear she was under a magical spell. Another customer jostled her as she stood, and she shook herself. Just then, she heard a deep voice, sweet and spicy like pumpkin pie.

“Can I help you?”

Katniss locked eyes with the man behind the counter, her eyes captured by his deep blue gaze. Kindness danced there and life and contentment. She wasn’t sure what he was selling, but she wanted all of it.

“I’m— I’m not sure,” she answered, moving a little closer and returning his wide smile. White teeth glimmered behind full, pink, kissable lips. Ashy blonde hair flopped in waves over his forehead, and he tossed his head to get it out of his eyes. Sapphire eyes deep as the mines from which they came sparkled. She wanted to tumble into them and fall forever.

“Hungry? Thirsty?” he asked.

“Yes,” came her immediate response before she blushed bright red. His smirk indicated he understood she’d been talking about another kind of hunger.

“If you want a little something of both, I can make suggestions.”

She nodded, eager for him to keep speaking, craving the sound of the rumbled baritone that filled her ears when he addressed her. Her eyes roved over broad shoulders under red and baby blue flannel sleeves that were rolled up to reveal strong forearms ending in masculine hands with long, tapered fingers. Artist’s hands, she thought. They had to be. When they gestured, she remembered he was talking and snapped to attention.

“Do you like sweet or savory?”

Katniss gaped at him, unable to speak. There was something about the way he’d said the word sweet that made her want to climb over the counter and jump him. Since that was completely inappropriate, she forced herself to answer.

“It depends. I like a little of both.”

His pupils contracted, and he cleared his throat. “Well, we’re known for our apple cinnamon buns, which you can see on the sign down in front. I’d suggest trying one with a scoop of ice cream, but we also have cheese buns if you’d rather try something savory.”

She hesitated, tempted by the idea of cheese buns because they sounded overly delicious, but if they were known for something else, who was she to turn it down?

“I’ll take the apple cinnamon bun, please.”

“Ice cream?”

“I guess?”

He studied her. “Yes, I think so. You’ll enjoy it more that way, I think. Very creamy. Evens out the texture and mixes well with the tartness of the apples. Or we have apple crisp, if that’s more to your liking.”

“No, I like buns,” she blurted and felt her face grow even hotter.

“Funny,” he said with a smile, “so do I. Now, for the drink. That’s harder. We have so many options, and you look like you’d appreciate several of them. My first instinct is apple cider, but that’s a lot of apple going on at once. What about hot chocolate? I think that could be more your thing.”

“I love hot chocolate,” she admitted with a grin. “It’s my favorite.”

“That doesn’t surprise me somehow. You have that look.”

“What look is that?” she asked and was mildly surprised it sounded a little bit like flirting. “Hot? Or Chocolate?”

Blushing furiously, Peeta stammered an answer. “N-no! Just…you… I meant… Yes, hot— That’s not what I meant. More like sweet. With some substance. God, kill me now.”

“Please let me have my bun and sweetness before you’re murdered.”

She ducked her head, embarrassed at her brazenness. What was up with her? This wasn’t her modus operandi with men. Usually, she kept as far from them as possible unless it was Gale. But there was something about this guy. He was gentle and funny and interesting, and she wanted to keep talking to him forever.

Unfortunately, the woman behind her coughed, indicating her impatience, and he hurried to get her food. His co-worker finished with his customer and motioned to the person behind Katniss in line who flashed a glare as she moved up to the register. Katniss didn’t bother to respond, she remained focused on the man warming up the apple cinnamon bun, topping it with a dollop of ice cream, and pouring a cup of hot chocolate. Before he turned back to the register, he counted out a few marshmallows and then added two more to her drink.

“Here you go,” he said. “That’ll be $7.50.”

Katniss fished in her wallet, produced her debit card, and tried to hand it to him. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m so sorry, but we only take cash.”

Her face drained. She didn’t have any on her. She rarely carried it, and she hadn’t even thought about pulling out any to bring with her today.

“I-I don’t have any. I’m so sorry.”

The other customer left with her food, and his co-worker, likely a relative since they were so similar in appearance, slipped out the back of the booth leaving them alone.

“Don’t worry about it,” he urged softly. “It’s my treat.”

“You can’t!” she protested. “I’ll find my sister and see if she has cash. I’m… This is so humiliating.”

“Hey,” he said, his tone gentle, “it’s my treat. I know you’re going to love this, and word of mouth advertising is worth more than the cost of a bun and drink. Take it. Please.”

“I couldn’t. Seriously.”

“Please. I insist.” She hesitated for several moments, until he confessed, “Please, because if you wait much longer, my brother’s going to be back, and he’ll see what I’m doing. He can be, uh, a bit of a jerk, so you’d really be doing me a favor.”

She inhaled and held it for a beat before accepting his offering. “Thank you, uh…?”

“Peeta,” he said with a smile. “Peeta Mellark. This is my family’s booth.”

“Katniss Everdeen. Merely a customer at Panem’s Harvest Festival.”

“Well, I’m glad you chose to patron us. It’s been a highlight of the weekend, so far.”

Peeta’s brother returned, and he straightened, standing upright instead of leaning toward her over the counter. “Come by again before you leave,” he suggested. “I’d love to meet your sister.”

Katniss backed away with a nod of thanks. He obviously didn’t feel comfortable continuing the conversation with his brother next to him, so she decided to take the win and go. Glancing at the time, she realized she should be thinking about meeting up with Prim soon. First, though, she was going to eat her apple cinnamon bun and drink her hot chocolate.

The first spoonful melted on her tongue, and she released an indecent moan that would have horrified her if she hadn’t been in the throes of an orgasm in her mouth. There wasn’t a word to describe the explosion on her taste buds, but it was something to the effect of every superlative she could imagine. The hot chocolate was even better. She briefly considered selling herself on the street to get another cup.

“What are you doing?” Prim asked when they met up again. Katniss sat in a stupor, high on sugar and calculating how much more she could eat without quadrupling her daily caloric intake.

“How much cash do you have on you?” she demanded, eyes rolling.

Confused, Prim stared at her. “Why?

“There’s this booth. Best thing ever. Have to go back. They only take cash.” The words tumbled out in a half-coherent babble, but she didn’t care. She needed more of what Peeta had given her.

“Okay,” Prim agreed, although she flashed Katniss a look that indicated she thought her sister was losing it.

Katniss bounced to her feet and grabbed her purchases. Dragging Prim along by the hand, she wound through the stalls until she found Peeta’s booth again. He was still there, helping customers with a friendly smile.

“Oh,” Prim breathed. “I get it now. He’s gorgeous.”

“His buns are better.”

��Well, I can’t see them from here, but I’ll take your word for it.”

Katniss smacked her on the arm. Indignant, she snapped, “His apple cinnamon buns! Get your head out of the gutter.”

“Hard to keep the thoughts pure when a guy looks like that.”

“You know what, Prim? You’re absolutely right. He’s stunning. Let’s go get some of that.”

Katniss had every intention of laying her hands on more of Peeta’s buns. With any luck, she’d get his phone number, too.

[everlarkbirthdaygifts]

Happy Birthday, mega-aulover!

Happy Birthday, @mega-aulover​! We hope you’ve had a wonderful day so far, and that you got exactly the presents you were hoping for! To keep your party going a little while longer, the lovely @endlessnightlock​ has written a story just for you!

Happy birthday @mega-aulover! Here’s something a little spicy, a little sweet for your day. Soul-mark Everlark. Rated M for non-explicit sexual content.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

The first time I remember talking to Peeta, we were five, and it was a fall day, much like today- cool and windy, a welcome cool down from the heat of summer. He was standing at the bakery’s back door with his father, his little round cheeks pink from the heat emanating from the ovens. The heat was so intense from the kitchen you could feel it out on the step, and his eyes were the bluest things I’d ever seen. I think I fell a little bit in love with him then.

We were there that morning because my father took me along with him to trade with the businesses in town. It was a day of a lot of firsts: not only did I meet Peeta, but I also had my first Mellark’s fall apple muffin- I’d never tasted anything so delicious in my life. Since that day, I’ve had lots of baked goods from Mellark’s, and while my favorite is probably the cheese buns Peeta makes especially for me, I’ll never forget those apple muffins- they were like magic.

That day also marked the first chance I had to spend the morning in the woods with my father, tagging along behind him as he hunted and checked his traps. Prim was just a baby back then, and in my hazy memory of the day, I think she was teething, and Mother needed to sleep; that’s why I got to spend the day with Father. It was such a good day, and meeting Peeta was the icing on the cake.

My father is a hunter-gatherer, and we live in a small house in the woods close to where the fence used to run, separating it from the district boundary. It isn't far from town because my mother is one of the district healers, and there was school in town that my sister and I needed to attend, of course. It’s been a wonderful place to grow up, straddling that line between wilderness and civilization. My family is a happy one.

According to my parents, our life looks entirely different from how things were even five years ago now that our country is the New Republic of Panem. 

When my parents were teenagers, the Great War erupted, and the districts, with the military backing of newly rediscovered Thirteen, rose together and defeated the Capitol’s heavy hand of oppression. They’d taken everything away from the districts for so long- food, freedom, hope in addition to the two children a year, forced to fight to their deaths in the Hunger Games. 

After the war that ended in the rebel’s victory, citizens of Panem were free in ways they’d never been: free to travel, free to pursue higher education, and in Twelve, they were free not to work in the mines for a pittance until they died an early death from miner’s lung or cancer. The possibilities to choose the path of your own life? They’re endless now compared to what they used to be. 

The only place where we are not so free is marriage, which wasn’t the Capitol’s doing. That’s because of the soul marks. 

A soul mark is a pattern that emerges on your body through your teen years, eventually pairing you with your soulmate when you reach adulthood. If you’re going to get one (not everyone does), the beginnings of it show up around puberty, and the pattern typically doesn’t fill in entirely until you reach the age of eighteen. Once you hit your eighteenth birthday, you are considered ready for marriage as soon as you find the person with the other half of your soul mark. There’s a ceremony during the first day of the Harvest Festival where the eighteen-year-olds participate; it’s when the couples typically pair off. 

We’re all told from an early age about the force that draws you to your mate; the older couples in the district are continually telling us younger ones there will be no doubt who your soulmate is when your time to meet comes.

I have a soul mark- it looks like a series of lines on my right hand in the space between my thumb and pointer finger; it’s a long line, with a series of eight identical hash marks that meet it vertically, leaving me with a soul mark that forms what I think must be the bottom half of a barcode. I’m not entirely sure that’s what the mark represents or what it is supposed to be.

Some of my friends have the marks; some don’t. Delly has one on her thigh, and Madge has one on her back. Peeta, my closest friend, and the person I have so many confusing feelings for, has a soul mark; when I asked him where it was, he flushed six different shades and told me he couldn’t let me see it.

I don’t think Peeta knows this, but I got a good look at what had formed of his soul mark when we were fifteen. That summer, a group of us hiked to the lake hidden in the woods to swim. Madge and Delly and I wore our darkest bras and underwear, we’d been before and knew what the water would do, while Peeta and Gale wore their boxer shorts. Peeta wore a pair of boxers that were unknown to him, transparent from behind when wet. 

That’s pretty much when all the confusing thoughts I have about him began. I’ll never forget how dry-mouthed and hot I felt looking at him that way- I could hardly take my eyes off him. Peeta’s frame wasn’t as large then as it is now, and he wasn’t so muscular either, but it was still wholly overwhelming. He was all thick legs and broad shoulders even then, with the thin, wet material of his boxers leaving little of his backside to the imagination. 

I’ve spent a lot of time alone in my bed at night thinking about that day, not just because of the way he looked and the way it made my body tingle (of course, that was part of it), but because of his soul mark. On one side of Peeta’s, err, butt, I guess you’d call it, were a few curving lines I could just make out through the thin material, which I kept sneaking glances at when no one was paying attention to me. 

Like mine, I couldn’t determine yet what Peeta’s mark was supposed to be, but the curving lines reminded me of a loose sketch of clouds I’d watched him sketch once. Clouds and barcodes? Those two things were as unrelated to each other as doorknobs and jackrabbits. And it made me sad, realizing that his mark and mine were so different because that meant we were both destined to be married to someone else. 

I don’t know why I felt like that- I didn’t even know if I wanted to get married; it was just that if I were, Peeta was the only boy I could picture myself spending the rest of my life with. He’s my best friend- he makes me laugh and makes me feel comfortable just being myself, and lately, I find myself thinking a lot about what it would feel like to kiss him, among other things I’m too embarrassed to mention.

The fact that I’ll never have any of the answers seems impossible to stomach, and today is the day- Match Day, the first day of the Harvest Festival. I’m so scared of what it’s going to bring: both who I’ll end up matched with and who I’ll watch Peeta walk away from the square with. Both are reason enough to make me want to run.

In the square with the other girls, I’m here, waiting with Madge and Delly for Mayor Undersee to stand on the stage and give out instructions for finding your mate in the crowd; if your mate is of age. If you couldn’t find your mate today, you keep coming back every year until you met the person with the matching soul mark. Twelve isn’t a large district, so there aren’t many young men and women here, maybe fifty. I’d say a quarter of them are a few years older, like Gale, who hasn’t paired up yet.

I scan the crowd, and my eyes briefly catch Peeta’s. He stares at me intently, something in his eyes I can’t name. It doesn’t look like the fear that I’m sure mine hold. I don’t know what he’s thinking, so I look away from him quickly, my stomach sinking at the reminder that he will never be mine, not the way I wanted. 

Why couldn’t it have just been him? Why did we have to have these stupid marks on our skin anyway? I stare ahead at the stage, not looking to the left or right after escaping the razorlike sharpness of Peeta’s gaze on me. 

And then, it’s time. Mayor Undersee appears on the small stage erected in the square just for this occasion. He stands in front of the groups of young men and women gathered near the front while curious onlookers and family of the soon-to-be-matched stay towards the back. Mayor Undersee looks out, smiling benevolently at us all.  “Welcome to the matching ceremony!” 

I feel like I’m going to be sick. I think panic might be setting in. Because I’m so nervous, I can’t concentrate on what the Mayor is saying; every noise around me sounds like buzzing and droning. Words bounce around inside my head, but very few of them form a coherent thought. 

Meanwhile, my only real thought is- 

I can’t do this. I can’t do this-

And so, as Mayor Undersee is wrapping up, as I’m panicking, as I realize that I’d be just as happy living alone in the woods for the rest of my life as I would be married to anyone other than Peeta, I come to a decision. As unobtrusively as possible because I don’t relish the idea of making a scene, I turn around and, ducking my head, elbow my way to the back of the crowd. When I get to the end of the girls’ group, I take off running without looking back. 

Getting further and further away from the crowd, I hear someone call out my name, but I don’t stop.

I run for the first place I can think of, the bakery. The business is closed for the matching ceremony since Peeta is running it now; he has been since we graduated in the spring. At the time, Mr. Mellark moved into his new wife’s home. He still works at the bakery, but he wanted to make way for Peeta to have a place to bring his new wife. 

Surely Peeta won’t come back here right away with his match? He’ll have to meet with her family and make plans for their wedding first. I know I should go somewhere else, I tell myself as I run up the back stairs that lead to his living quarters above the business, but I want the comfort of being here one last time before I lose him forever.

Letting myself into his kitchen, my favorite room in this space because it reminds me of time spent here with him, I drag myself over to his table; it’s old, it’s wood worn smooth and soft over time. Pulling a chair out, I slump down into the seat and let my arms drop to the tabletop, laying my head there.

Eventually, I hear heavy footsteps coming up the steps. When they stop, I look up to see Peeta standing in the doorway. “Are you alright?” he asks, sounding out of breath as he approaches me.

I laugh derisively. “What are you doing here? You should have stayed. You’re going to miss your match,” I tell him, although I’m glad he’s here, secretly, even though I know it’s just going to delay the inevitable. Peeta’s still going to match to a girl who isn’t me- someone who’s soul mark matches his.

“What happened?” He asks gently, ignoring my words. He pulls out the other chair and sits, scooting his chair close to me.

Instead of looking at him, I stare down at my hands; the breath caught in my throat. I’ve never been hesitant with Peeta, but my heart is thumping oddly inside my chest, and warmth is spreading through me. What I’m experiencing is similar to how I always feel in his vicinity, but greatly intensified. I sense Peeta watching me, waiting for an answer. When I glance over at him, he’s staring at my mouth. His tongue darts out, and he licks his lips; it makes my whole body feel tight.

“I can’t do it,” I say, tearing my glance away from his mouth, “I can’t marry some random man from the district. Not when, if things were different, it could’ve been-” 

I’m trying to say it, trying to tell Peeta why I can’t go through with the soul marks match, but my words trail off when he moves into me. What I soon discover are his impossibly soft lips are on mine quicker than I would’ve thought possible, and oh, the feeling. At the first touch of his mouth on mine, heat spreads through me. It travels down to the tips of my toes and fingers, snaking its way through every fiber of my being. Peeta wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me down to the floor. We’re kneeling together when he pulls me against him again. I go without any hesitation; I want to keep kissing and touching him so badly.

“We can’t- we can’t do this,” I say, finally fighting against my wants as I attempt to pull away from him. I’m so weak, though, giving in to him when he chases me with his lips. Everything feels so good; I feel more alive, more right than I have ever been.

“Why not?” Peeta asks softly. His hands are everywhere, and I don’t want him to stop. I want to climb on top of him; it’s an overwhelming, powerful need. “Katniss, I love you-”

I give in because he loves me too, throwing myself at him with such force, I knock Peeta off balance. We tumble to the floor, landing side by side with our arms entwined around each other. “You shouldn’t say that,” I tell Peeta as my mouth drops to his neck. It feels like my brain and my body are directing two completely different courses of action, and I can’t seem to stop either one of them. 

“Why?” Peeta moans as I suck on his skin. 

“Our marks don’t match.”

“Do you want me, though?” he asks, sounding serious as he pulls away. We’re both harshly breathing as we stare at each other. “Do you want to be with me?” he repeats.

“Yes,” I whisper, searching his eyes, “Of course I do, but-“

He interrupts me, impatient with my reasons. “How do you know we don’t match? You’ve never seen my mark.” Peeta quickly sits up, rising on his knees. His hands drop, and I watch him tear frantically at the button and zipper of his pants. It’s surreal, lying on the floor beside him. My body is buzzing in a way that feels amplified times a thousand as I watch him unbutton his pants and pull down the zipper. 

I know I should look away, but I can’t- for the first time in my life, I let him see that I’m looking at him, that I’m fascinated by him, and I want to know all his secrets. As he pushes his pants down to his knees, the tails of his shirt drop, obscuring his front so that all I can see are his muscular legs. 

I don’t know what to do- Peeta is naked under that shirt, and I just-

He shifts a little, moving the bottom of his shirt to reveal one side of his behind, and I finally have a good look at him. I’m instantly distracted.

Wow, he’s got a great-looking behind. Gorgeous, really; in fact, I have a crazy urge to sink my fingers into it. 

I tell myself to snap out of it because it makes things a little weird with me lying on the floor next to Peeta, staring up at the side of his butt. So I sit up; when I’m upright, I move the portion of Peeta’s shirt away that’s obscuring my view since I still couldn’t see his soul mark.

Peeta shivers when my fingers brush against him, exposing his bottom while I remain silent. I stare at the sight that greets my eyes, and he glances over his shoulder at me expectantly with eyebrows raised. 

All I can do is drop his shirt, concealing his bottom again before covering my face with both hands, trying to keep the happy laughter escaping me from crossing over into hysteria. 

I absolutely cannot believe this.

“Don’t laugh!” Peeta says, but he’s smirking himself. “I know my mark looks ridiculous, but I told you we matched.”

I sit back on my heels- my body shaking with the effort of trying to hold my laughter in. I cannot believe this- I’m thrilled. I’m getting everything I want. 

Peeta turns to face me. He’s still on his knees, and his pants are still in a puddle around his legs, but he doesn’t hesitate to put his arms around me, pulling me close to him. “I love you,” he says as I get my laughter under control. I can feel him smile against my scalp.

“I love you, too,” I mumble, happy tears streaking down my face and wetting his cotton shirt. I’m probably getting snot on him by now, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

Peeta pulls away, looking down at me. He uses one hand to wipe my eyes, and I take the opportunity to wipe my nose on the sleeve of my dress. I know it’s gross, but I guess some excess body fluids aren’t much to consider- he and I will be married soon. The corners of his mouth turn up in a smile as he watches at me. “You love me- for real?”

“Real,” I say, wiping my face with my sleeve again, just to be sure I got it all. “I love you.”

When my face is dry, I kiss him again, eagerly. I’m so happy, and I want him to know the way I feel. I love Peeta so much, and I want him so much. 

We’re kissing intently, and I’m urging Peeta to lay on top of me again as he slowly undoes the buttons of my dress, when I have an epiphany. What’s happening between us right now, this all-consuming hunger must’ve been what the older soul-matched couples referred to when they (rather knowingly now that I think about it) told soul-marked teens they’d know their mate when the time came. 

Apparently, in Peeta and I’s case, at least, “knowing when the time came” meant a quickly-awakened, unbridled desire for each other. Not that it took much for us when the love between us was already there, fully formed. I know this would’ve happened anyway.

It doesn’t take long for things to become even more heated between us. Before I know it, I’m lining up Peeta’s soul mark with mine when I reach behind him, grasping a handful of his delicious rump. My forwardness must surprise him, catching him off-guard in the middle of kissing a line down my neck and into the valley between my breasts, because when I do it, he grunts. HIs pleased noise makes my pulse race, so I do it to him again.

As for our marks? Of all things, Peeta’s is the top of an apple muffin, while mine is the bottom half. His curved lines and my rigid ones- they’re a lot like him and myself. Together we’re delicious. Although him on top and me on the bottom doesn’t last very long, just until he rolls us over and pulls my dress up and over my head, telling me he wants to look at me.

A while later, when the back of his head thunks against the wooden floor in bliss, I realize that maybe those apple muffins were pretty magical.

[calzona-ga]

She might change her mind; she certainly has before. But midway through an interview, Ellen Pompeo casually drops the bomb that after more than 360 episodes, the upcoming 17th season of “Grey’s Anatomy” may be its last.

“We don’t know when the show is really ending yet,” Pompeo says, answering a question that was not at all about when the show might end. “But the truth is, this year could be it.”

Pompeo has played Meredith Grey — the superstar surgeon around whom “Grey’s Anatomy” revolves — since its start. The show, created by Shonda Rhimes, premiered on ABC on March 27, 2005, and became an immediate, noisy hit. Since then, for a remarkably long time in Hollywood years, the drama has been among the most popular series on TV, even as the landscape of television has changed seismically. At its Season 2 ratings height, the program drew an average audience of 20 million viewers. And all these years later — in a TV universe now divided by more than 500 scripted shows —“Grey’s” ranks as the No. 1 drama among 18- to 34- year-olds and No. 2 among adults 18 to 49. In delayed, multiplatform viewing, Season 16 averaged 15 million viewers.

Strikingly, technology is such that teenagers who were born when the show premiered, and later binged “Grey’s” on Netflix, watch new episodes live with their parents. The series has spawned two successful spinoffs for ABC, “Private Practice” (which ran from 2007 to 2013) and “Station 19” (which enters its fourth season this fall). “Grey’s Anatomy” has been licensed in more than 200 territories across the world, translated into more than 60 languages, and catapulted the careers of music artists — from Ingrid Michaelson and Snow Patrol to Tegan and Sara and the Fray — whose songs have played during key emotional sequences.

In its explosive initial success, “Grey’s Anatomy” was an insurgent force in popular culture. The Season 1 cast featured three Black actors — Chandra Wilson, James Pickens Jr. and Isaiah Washington — as doctors in positions of power at the Seattle hospital where the show is set, and Sandra Oh played the ambitious intern Cristina Yang, who would become Meredith’s best friend. For the women characters, the “Grey’s” approach to sex was defiant and joyful, starting in the pilot with Meredith’s one-night stand with Derek (Patrick Dempsey), who turned out to be one of her bosses at the hospital.

Rhimes presented these images to the world like they were no big deal, when in fact, nothing like “Grey’s” had ever been seen on network television. Krista Vernoff has been the “Grey’s Anatomy” showrunner since Season 14, as anointed by Rhimes, and was the head writer for the first seven seasons. She remembers the moment she realized how radical “Grey’s” was — a medical show driven entirely by its characters instead of their surgeries — as she watched an episode early in Season 1. “My whole body was covered in chills,” Vernoff recalls. “I was like, ‘Oh, we thought we were making a sweet little medical show — and we’re making a revolution.’”

Still, no one expected “Grey’s Anatomy” to become the longest-running primetime medical drama in TV history, outlasting “MASH” and “ER,” the previous record-holder. Since 2005, “Grey’s” has inspired countless women to become doctors, and along the way, its depiction of illness has even saved a few lives. The show has remained popular through three presidential administrations, the Great Recession, tectonic shifts in how people watch TV and two cultural reckonings — one feminist, one anti-racist — that demonstrate how ahead of its time “Grey’s Anatomy” has always been.

And they’re not done yet. When Season 17 premieres on Nov. 12, “Grey’s Anatomy” will tackle the subject of the coronavirus as experienced by the doctors at Grey Sloan Memorial, all while filming under strict COVID-19 protocols. The season is dedicated to frontline workers. And Pompeo, a producer on “Grey’s” — whose Meredith has removed a live bomb from a patient’s body, was in a plane crash, was widowed after Derek died in a car accident, was beaten nearly to death by a patient and, in a separate incident, actually did die briefly after a ferry accident — is intent on making the show top itself once again.

“I’m constantly fighting for the show as a whole to be as good as it can be. As a producer, I feel like I have permission to be able to do that,” Pompeo says. “I mean, this is the last year of my contract right now. I don’t know that this is the last year? But it could very well could be.”

Pompeo has been refreshingly transparent about her fight to become the highest-paid female actor on television, having detailed a few years ago how she negotiated a paycheck for more than $20 million a year. She clearly knows what she’s doing with these frank pronouncements as well.

As Pompeo laughs over the phone from her car, she says in a near shout: “There’s your sound bite! There’s your clickbait! ABC’s on the phone!”

The “Grey’s Anatomy” team — led by Rhimes and executive producer Betsy Beers — created the first season in a vacuum, because the show did not have an airdate. The 2004-05 season was a comeback year for ABC because “Desperate Housewives” and “Lost,” both of which debuted that fall, became phenomena — not only ratings successes but also watercooler events.

But at “Grey’s,” Rhimes was getting noted to death by network president Steve McPherson. According to Vernoff, McPherson — who resigned in 2010 under a cloud of sexual harassment allegations — stonewalled with “pushback every step of the way,” as ABC’s then- head of drama, Suzanne Patmore Gibbs, fought for the show. Vernoff was close with Patmore Gibbs, who died in 2018, and recalls her talking about her clashes with McPherson.

“He just didn’t get it; he didn’t like it,” Vernoff continues. “Honestly, I’m going to say, I don’t think he liked the ambitious women having sex unapologetically.”

Wilson, when she was cast as Miranda Bailey on “Grey’s,” was a New York theater actor (“Caroline, or Change”) relatively new to series television. But she was well aware of the network’s issues. “We took a creative break around the Christmas holiday, which to me meant ‘Oh, we’re out of a job.’”

Pompeo was frustrated: “Once we finally got an airdate, two weeks before that airdate they wanted to change the title of the show to ‘Complications.’”

In an email to Variety, McPherson disputed these assertions, saying, “I made the original deal with Shonda. I developed ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ at the studio. I picked it up at ABC.” He praised Patmore Gibbs, and added, “As for defaming me again and again, I don’t know what to say other than it’s sad that anyone feels the need to spread lies about me.”

Yet there was so little faith in the show that the writers were asked to clear out their offices when they finished the season. But to Vernoff, who had clicked right away with Rhimes, the early episodes had “felt like a labor of love.”

And it was worth the battle. “We fought for the right for Meredith and Bailey to be whole human beings, with whole sex lives, and not a network TV idea of likable,” Vernoff says. “You might not have been likable, but now you’re iconic.”

As far as the medicine went, the cases were often ostentatious. “Every kind of crazy accident that had ever caused terrible harm to any human ever, that was our homework at night,” Vernoff says. It was up to Zoanne Clack, an emergency room doctor-turned-writer, to be a sounding board in the writers’ room. She began as the only doctor on staff during the first season, and is now an executive producer. “What was interesting was that the writers don’t have those boundaries because they don’t know the rules, so they would come up with all of these scenarios, and my immediate thought was like, ‘No way!’” Clack says. “Then I’d have to think about it and go, ‘But could it?’”

When the program finally premiered — on a Sunday night after “Desperate Housewives” — to massive ratings, it was a shock to the cast and crew, given that they had shot the first season under a cloud, Pompeo says, adding, “So the fact that the numbers were that huge the first time we aired was a big f–k-you to McPherson!”

With Season 2 now a given, everything changed, Vernoff says: “It was like a hurricane-force gale, and everyone was just trying to hold on.” They had made 13 episodes for Season 1, airing nine of them and holding the final four for Season 2 — Meredith finding out that Derek was actually married (to Addison, played by Kate Walsh) had felt like the perfect finale. But upon the writers’ return, Vernoff says, the feeling was “Holy s—. We have to make 22.”

The entire cast — mostly unknown actors like Katherine Heigl as the sunny Izzie Stevens, T.R. Knight as the chummy neurotic George O’Malley, and Justin Chambers as the troubled, secretly vulnerable Alex Karev — had become famous overnight. For Wilson, whose Bailey was the stern teacher the interns called “the Nazi,” it was a new experience. “Folks were scared to talk to me, like in the store or in the Target — people would just kind of leave me alone,” she says. “It was like, ‘What’s going on?’”

According to Vernoff, “Paparazzi were following the cast to work — it was wild.”

The mid- to late-2000s were the height of glossy gossip magazines such as Us Weekly (and its copycats), as well as the inception of TMZ and Perez Hilton as celebrity-hounding, news-breaking forces that fueled (and soiled) the fame-industrial complex. The cast of “Grey’s Anatomy” was firmly in the sights of these new, often toxic forces in media.

Pompeo says the cast was so talented that it “was all worth it” — but yes, the transition to stardom was hard for the group: “At the time, it was just a real combination of exhaustion and stress and drama. Actors competing with each other — and envious.”

Heigl, Knight and Isaiah Washington all went through press cycles that made the show seem scandal-prone. To rehash it all now seems pointless; you can look it up. Washington was fired in June 2007. Knight and Heigl asked to be written out of the show preemptively, in Seasons 5 and 6, respectively.

Vernoff and the other writers were watching the internal messes unfold. They had to deal with how the fallout affected the show’s plot, as when Washington was fired just as Burke, his character, was about to marry Cristina. “When word comes down that an actor is leaving the show, and what you’ve got scripted is a wedding …” Vernoff trails off, laughing.

“There was a lot of drama on-screen and drama off-screen, and young people navigating intense stardom for the first time in their lives,” she continues. “I think that a lot of those actors, if they could go back in time and talk to their younger selves, it would be a different thing. Everybody’s grown and changed and evolved — but it was an intense time.”

Pompeo doesn’t want to talk about what happened with individual actors from the show, because when she has in the past, “it doesn’t get received in the way in which I intend it to be.” But she does make a point about the way television is produced. “Nobody should be working 16 hours a day, 10 months a year — nobody,” she says. “And it’s just causing people to be exhausted, pissed, sad, depressed. It’s a really, really unhealthy model. And I hope post-COVID nobody ever goes back to 24 or 22 episodes a season.

“It’s why people get sick. It’s why people have breakdowns. It’s why actors fight! You want to get rid of a lot of bad behavior? Let people go home and sleep.”

Debbie Allen would eventually be Pompeo’s savior in that regard, but that was years away. Allen — an actor and a dancer — began her directing career when she was on the 1980s TV series “Fame” as a “natural progression” because, she says, “I was in charge of the musical numbers, and so many directors didn’t really know how to shoot them.” She went on to be a prolific director and producer, most notably overhauling NBC’s “A Different World” after a tumultuous first season. As a fan of “Grey’s Anatomy,” Allen wanted to work on the show, and in Season 6, she was hired to direct. To prepare for it, Allen shadowed Wilson, who had been tapped to direct by executive producer-director Rob Corn. (“He came to me and said, ‘You should direct,’” says Wilson, who has now helmed 21 episodes. “And I said, ‘OK.’ Because I didn’t know what else to say.”)

Directing that sixth-season episode led to Allen’s fruitful relationship with “Grey’s.” In Season 8, Rhimes wrote Allen into the show to play Catherine, a star surgeon, a love interest for Richard Webber (Pickens) and the mother of Jackson Avery (Jesse Williams). Ahead of Season 12 in 2015, Allen became the show’s EP/director. Her duties included hiring all of the directors, weighing in on scripts and casting, and, as Allen puts it, “minding that people feel good about themselves.” Several years before the revived #MeToo movement would lead to calls for systemic changes behind the camera in Hollywood, Allen set a goal of hiring 50% women directors. She also increased the number of Black men who directed “Grey’s” during her first season as executive producer, among them Denzel Washington. (When she sold him on it, she recounts, he said to her, “I’m going to say yes, Debbie Allen.”)

Pompeo and Allen are close. Allen began her new role the year after Dempsey left, “at a time when we were really broken,” Pompeo says. “And so much of our problems were perpetuated by bad male management. Debbie came in at a time when we really, really needed a breath of fresh air, and some new positive energy.”

Pompeo continues with a laugh: “Debbie really brought in a spirit to the show that we had never seen — we had never seen optimism! We had never seen celebration. We had never seen joy!”

According to Pompeo, Allen began advocating for her to have more humane hours — Fridays off (Pompeo: “And I was like, ‘What? What? Fridays off?’”) — and for the show to shoot 12-hour days maximum, and ideally no more than 10 hours (Pompeo: “And I was like, I love this woman.”).

Allen speaks affectionately about her bond with Pompeo. “Coming out of Boston, she’s so earthy and real in a way that you might not know,” Allen says. “There’s a sisterhood between us — I guess you would say it’s almost a Blackness that exists between us. And she’s part of our tribe.”

Allen has been a key member of the “Grey’s Anatomy” brain trust since Season 12, and two seasons later, Vernoff returned to run the show. She’d left at the end of Season 7, consulted on “Private Practice” for a few years, and then went to Showtime’s “Shameless” for five seasons. As her contract was set to expire, Rhimes asked Vernoff to lunch, and told her she wanted her to take over. “It felt like she was saying, ‘Hey, our kid needs you,’” Vernoff says.

Before accepting the offer, Vernoff had to catch up on the show. She had always written “Grey’s” as a romantic comedy, and what she saw on-screen during her binge was dark as hell — especially after Derek’s death. “If this show that you are currently making is the show that you want ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ to be,” she recalls telling Rhimes, “I am, in fact, not the right writer for it.” But Rhimes was insistent, saying it was time for a change after the mourning period for Derek.

Vanessa Delgado, who started as a production intern during the seventh season and has worked her way up to being lead editor and co-producer, says the show’s trajectory shifted when Vernoff came back — it was a return to the original, saucier tone of “Grey’s.” “We changed the music completely,” Delgado says. “The dialogue felt lighter and more fun, and wewere having fun again.”

That lightness will be difficult to maintain this year, of course, when, as Allen puts it, “COVID is No. 1 on the call sheet right now.”

Vernoff at first wondered whether “Grey’s” should ignore the coronavirus, thinking the audience comes to the show “for relief.” But the doctors in the writers’ room convinced her this wasn’t the time for escapism, saying to her, “This is the biggest medical story of our lifetime, and it is changing medicine permanently.”

When they’ve had doctors and nurses come speak with them this season, Vernoff says, “they were different human beings than the people we’ve been talking to every year. And I want to honor that, tonally. I just want to inspire people to take care of each other.”

Pompeo, who is not shy about offering criticism, sounds positively enthusiastic: “I’ll say the pilot episode to this season — girl, hold on.

“What nobody thinks we can continue to do, we have done. Hold on. That’s all we’re going to say about that!”

Pompeo has a few more months before she decides whether she wants to continue — and as Rhimes and ABC have made clear in recent years, the show will likely end when she leaves. “I don’t take the decision lightly,” Pompeo says. “We employ a lot of people, and we have a huge platform. And I’m very grateful for it.”

“You know, I’m just weighing out creatively what can we do,” she says. “I’m really, really, really excited about this season. It’s probably going to be one of our best seasons ever. And I know that sounds nuts to say, but it’s really true.”

Vernoff doesn’t worry about the creative well drying up. “We’ve blown past so many potential endings to ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ that I always assume it can go on forever,” she says.

And Wilson knows how important “Grey’s” is to its audience, in that the characters have essentially become people who “live in their house.” As one of only three actors who’ve been on “Grey’s” since the beginning — the other is James Pickens Jr. — Wilson is in it until the end: “In my mind, Bailey is there until the doors close, until the hospital burns down, until the last thing happens on ‘Grey’s Anatomy.’ That is her entire arc.”

Whenever the show does conclude, part of its legacy will be about the talent it launched into the world, beginning with Rhimes, who will soon release her first shows for Netflix, after her company, Shondaland, made a lucrative deal with the streamer in 2017.

But it will also be about the characters of “Grey’s Anatomy”— mostly women and people of color — who are trying to make the world a better place as they find friendship, love and community.

“The show, at its core, brings people together,” Pompeo says. “And the fact that people can come together and watch the show, and think about things they may not have ordinarily thought about, or see things normalized and humanized in a way that a lot of people really need to see — it helps you become a better human being. If this show has helped anybody become a better human being, then that’s the legacy I’d love to sit with.”

[galedekarios]

your tags on my ea gale clip sum up really well something i've been thinking about for a while now! even on full release, it seems to me like a big part of the hate gale gets stems from people's insecurity; he kind of disrupts this power fantasy some people seem to desire where they have to be the most cool and capable person on the team. gale is more knowledgeable than the player about certain magic-related things, was very powerful before being tadpoled, has a close association with a goddess, etc. and he isn't exactly humble or shy about boasting about his magic skills. so then a lot of people instantly get defensive over their own character's capabilities and dislike him because of that. that's what i think, anyway.

i couldn't agree more, really!

it's strange to see just how much larian has toned down this aspect of gale from early access to full release to the point of changing his introduction scene entirely from being extremely capable and saving himself to being a damsel in distress (with the added bonus of adding in even more options to kill him than there were in early access, which is yet another can of worms entirely imo, esp considering that they removed a perfectly valid rp option for a certain companion on a certain beach).

i'm not saying i don't like the new introduction scene. i do! it's sweet, it's very cute, but it's also very, very different and i think we can make a fair assumption as to why it was changed.

it doesn't seem to have helped much tho because even now people have an issue with the fact that a wizard prodigy, graduate of blackstaff academy, mentee of elminster, archwizard of waterdeep and (ex) chosen of mystra knows more about magic and other related academic pursuits than they do/their player character does.

be it asking them if they're versed in magic, which is still clearly done to suss out if he found someone capable of dealing with the orb, or the amount of times i've seen people either peacock or complain about the cleansing of the ritual circle in balthazar's room.

again, it's just so weird to me, personally, considering gale makes it clear that dealing with such dark magic was his bread and butter as a chosen. it's natural he would see himself as most qualified to ensure it's safely rendered inert.

it's not bratty, it's not arrogant, it's not bullying, it's not talking down to you or your character.

it's simply a fact.

[mallowstep]

I’m thinking about writing a short OC piece about Windclan and I’d love to see your notes about its culture and the hymns you’ve written so far, everything you’ve done for Windclan appreciation month has really inspired me :)

hello anon!

alright, first things first: please send me ur piece when ur done if you're comfortable doing so! i will publish it from you, or if you don't want to be associated with it in Any Way, i will also just read it and add it to the queue with no indication why it's there. or if you don't want me to share it at all, i'd still like to read it.

as for your ask,

hymns?

i'm working on it. however, underneath the read more, i'll include a few snippets for u.

culture

alright, i'm just going to post links with some commentary as i go. feel free to ask any more questions you have.

windclan (search) | windclan (tag) | wcam tag | five clans (narrative essays)

i would link the elders den, but there's no windclan stories in there ATM.

moving on, i'm just going to go through posts in reverse chronological order.

tallstar taking a mate admittedly, this is more about cats and sexuality than windclan, but i provide the commentary that windclan...has a particular view on sexuality and fluidity. one thing i haven't explored but should is the role visiting cats have in windclan.

whoops that's a code word, my plug for solacefruit has been activated. okay, as you may be aware, based on the fact that i have a whole tag for it, i'm obsessed with solacefruit. now, i love everything they do, but i would like to point you particularly to "make a mighty sound" for a fantastic exploration of this idea.

i don't want to spoil anything, but i do think windclan, and maybe cats as a whole, but windclan has a certain view towards relationships that very much breaks them into pieces. i'm a "love is a verb" person, so the idea that you can grow to love someone romantically by going through the actions of love makes sense. not to say you will, but you can.

(to be clear i'm not out advocating for arranged marriages just saying that they can work, they're not destined to be bad, and there's a difference between forced marriage and arranged marriage.)

anyway.

this was a lot of words to say, cats do not have a human (and particularly, western/american) understanding of relationships, which makes analyzing them in those terms difficult.

early hymn talk i'll probably say more below, but it is here.

general ibtwicm notes might get you into the headspace for some of my choices in ibtwicm.

i don't have a ton to say because this pretty much all holds, but uh, yeah.

poetry and language this isn't strictly about windclan, but it does explain some of what i think about when writing hymns.

obviously, i'm writing english translations, but these general themes are what i have in mind. it's also part of why i say i don't think i'll ever release a "full hymnal" for windclan, because i don't know if my weak worldbuilding heart could take it if i only had translations.

names part two very much not about windclan, but just some thoughts on names. as i've said before, i support all names and worldbuilding equally, but if you want my thoughts on names, go buckwild.

clan culture fic rec list just stuff i think does a good job, if you want other sources of inspiration.

general clan culture notes this is really old, but it mostly holds.

i've obviously expanded a lot on windclan since i wrote it, so shrug? idk man.

alright, i'm going to move into hymn discussion below the cut, but best of luck! and i hope u have a good time. it makes my brain shut down to read that i inspired you, straight up got brain juice pouring out of my ears, but i'm really, really happy to hear that.

windclan holds a special place in my heart. (i know my oc avatar is from skyclan shhh it's because of the backstory he sees ghosts.) but i grew up in this super sporty household as a lil asthmatic klutz, and running was a sport i couldn't mess up, so of course windclan appealed to me.

they're actually third on my list of favorite clans, but they. it's a special place in my heart that they hold, especially after reading dawn of the clans and moth flight's vision, where i got an asthmatic cat and an adhd cat, both in windclan.

god i should reread dotc it's good.

alright, here's the deal on hymns: i am not going to fight to get duets to post correctly. there's a 0% chance i can in tumblr's wonky ass new editor with no markdown, not to mention how difficult it would have been in the old editor. so i'm going to talk a lil about what i've got, and post some stanzas that i think don't get explored a lot in ibtwicm.

we're discussing these in the order that they go in. a reminder that these are all sections of one epic poem. that said, i don't know where the gaps are. like, i don't know what's between these, if that makes sense.

the wind

the wind, the very first hymn. this is an ode to, well, windclan. it's a song about everything that makes them them. it's filled with poetry about the wind, about the seasons, and it's just...well, it's a bit of a genesis, in a way.

The wind — like the rain, like the river — calls the name of each star in its breath. The wind — like the earth, like the stone — anchors us to our home. The wind — like the sun, like the sky — is knowable only by name.

i wanted to share this stanza because the last line doesn't show up in ibtwicm (at least so far, i cut the reference), and it really, really, makes a difference imo.

anyway, windclan is basically tying the wind in with every other fundamental part of their life here.

they are the wind, and that's that.

the hare

okay, this one has a line that comes up a lot in ch1, but i already talked about that, so instead, i'm going to talk about this stanza

Speak of the earth and the dens, and you will be answered: By the call of the howling gales, the open earth singing in response. But speak of that which grows above, of the grass and field, And you will be answered by the softness of the buds and the roots.

okay, we get deadfoot thinking about this when he's talking to yellowfang.

i like this stanza because it really tells us what the hare is about. now, hares are not something windclan catches. hares are huge, y'all, there's no way they take one down. i take liberties with ecology, but not that many.

(i.e., a team of cats definitely could take one down, but i know too much, and would prefer letting team hunting stay a plot thing, and not fundamentally alter the environment in the way it would.)

now anyway, all of these hymns come from the time of the tunnelers. and the point of this is, even though the work of tunnelers and moor runners is disconnected, they fundamentally affect each other.

a moor runner must trust the hollows of the earth beneath them won't collapse, and a tunneler must trust that the prey they chase up will be caught.

it's all very symbiotic and is, well, in a way, a love poem. plus i really like the line "the open earth singing in response"

of the warrens

so this has one line, one you might not even know is a hymn, in ch1, but i'll share the whole stanza.

And as for the subject of fallow fields: Fallowed fields make for hungry prey, Yet hungry prey makes desperate rabbits, Who leap into our claws.

and ig my big point is, the hymns are a cultural artifact. just like many of the rules in the old testament have to do with hygiene things being codified into religion, this whole hymn is about hunting advice.

the moon on the river

okay, out of all the hymns, this is the most complete, and because ashfoot and deadfoot sing it together, and deadfoot discusses it, i only have one stanza to share.

Under the coldness, you shine back at me, And I do everything to keep the clouds from threatening you.

now, this poem is about love, grief, and being separated. it's a particular kind of grief, and windclan discourages grief, so this is one of only a few ways to really, fully express it.

and this section, in particular, is about love in times of hardship.

i don't have. a lot to say here. but the way hardship changes how you love someone can be particular and intense.

(temporarily, this happens sometime before "Spare for my chosen few / All I have is given towards the distant ground.")

the gorse in the wind

oh shit! i have so fucking much to say okay first.

the series title does not come from this hymn.

second, this is a challenging hymn okay. fuck. i have so much to say. where to start so! moors are actually relatively wet. think british countryside, not, like, a cool desert.

this is something i always knew? i read the secret garden a lot as a kid. but. i've seen stuff about moors being dry, and it's just one of those things that really...starts to eat under your skin. anyway.

okay, so. gorse is a dry plant. it does not like rain. it grows in sandy soil, etc etc, and yet. aside from everything we know about gorse and warriors, it also grows in this moor. because i say so.

okay, so. so so so. the lines quotes here are really deceptive, and i bet no one understood why, and that makes me just a little sad, but i couldn't find a good way to explain it in text, so uh, yeah, anyway. there's an exchange between ashfoot and deadfoot: "THE GORSE: You called me the heather and I grew stronger. / THE WIND: I called you the heather and brought rain for you to grow."

so...so do you see? do you see the point? it's about communication, needs, challenging each other. fadskj;l i love this. okay, so. the point is that heather is fragile, soft, pretty, and gorse is the opposite. the part of the wind is trying to be kind and complimentary, but the gorse is saying, fuck that, you are not being kind to me by undercutting my strength.

anyway, this passage is sung by the gorse:

In what good company have I set down roots, That even through snow fall I flower. You called me the heather and yet I've weathered, Far more than your sweet-named love.

so uh, yeah, this adds context. gorse! gorse is a hardy plant that continues to flower basically all season round. it's cool. it's cool. gorse is super cool. fuuuck y'all it's such a small thing and i've contained talking about it until now, but now it's too much. the floodgates are open, and i thought about this small detail too much.

okay. deep breath. gorse is a really easy plant to grow, but it's still adapted for dry environments. so the "even through snow fall I flower" part is a little tongue in cheek: gorse itself will flower in the cold, but snow is a type of precipitation, which as we've covered, is not gorse friendly.

then we have some rhyming and puns in the next line, and finally, "yet I've weathered, / Far more than your sweet-named love." like. yes. love as a form of softness is not necessarily helpful.

i mean, consider the damaging "soft trans boi" problem. same energy.

right. okay. so we've got all that? now if you remember, this is sung when deadfoot thinks ashpaw doesn't respect him, and ashpaw says she'll sing with him if she can sing the gorse, so in essence, she's telling him...not to back off, per se, but that...she is the "hard part" of the relationship. like, okay, i refuse to even bring up gender roles in human relationships, but uh, her point is very much, "i am the gorse, and you are the wind," and it's a very monumental moment.

it's anchored, i believe, in the other scenes, but this is a small thing that matters a lot to me.

like a lot.

okay, now that i've talked about like four lines for the length of this entire post, moving on.

the heather and earth

okay, this is the last hymn i have in concrete terms, and i cut a bit of it from the latest chapter, so yeah. it's also, uh, okay everything i have for it is only a line or two, but i wanted to share this closing line (sung together):

Sing a song of forgiveness, of growing together, and we will make madness, And madness from hence will everything beautiful grow.

and i just like these lines. they got cut, it was initially part of an exchange between ashfoot and deadfoot, but i can't share the part of it they talk about, because i'm reusing it for a later chapter and i'll 100% spoil shit if i try to talk about it.

but these lines? mmm they speak to me.

i don't have a ton to say about them, but i just. i like it.

if we apply the same ecology discussion from the gorse and the wind, we see heather is a plant that grows in acidic, infertile soil, and heath (which is not the same as a heather, but also kind of is) is a defining quality of heathland, which is...i'm not kidding, it's hot discourse about the difference between moorland and heathland.

i'm not getting involved, but my point is, if the gorse in the wind is a hymn about finding a working relationship, about mutual respect, etc., then the heather and earth is a hymn about working well together in a terrible situation.

god.

uh, wow! can you tell i like plants? because while parts of my ecology are dubious (see: everything regarding the rabbits in ch1), the plants part are well thought out. this shit is carefully detailed metaphor.

and that's why i won't be releasing a full hymnal. it's hard to as on top of this as i want to be. i'm not kidding, writing even four lines of a hymn usually takes me about twenty minutes, because i pull up a lot of research about how things work, how they interact with each other, etc., and then there's wordsmithing, cat worldview filter, etc.

but i hope this overview of what i've got is a good insight into my general thoughts. and i will eventually release more and more of the hymns i've got written.

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

Halloween Coutdown - A Bump in the Night

Summary: Victoria Van Gale is a serious scientist even after her laboratory and workplace is destroyed, she remains the sort of person to look for the reasons behind everything. She likes being in control, she makes stern analyses and important experiments, and she… goes trick or treating with a bunch of kids?

Notes: 3 days until Halloween, you guys!!! This is the irst time i actually try to make something I write feel like an episode, I hope you enjoy it! I thought it would be hard to write something with no sketchbook (and no librarian either!!) but it was actually so fun! Love this little unhinged scientist

Read it on ao3

Spooky song rec: HYPNOTIZED by AViVA

Victoria Van Gale did not like things she could not control.

She took her coffee black, she liked to read biographies, she was an early riser and she didn’t like things she couldn’t control. It was just one more part of her personality like any other, and she’d never really seen a reason to fight it. Granted, she supposed that it had been partially to blame for the fact that her observatory was now destructed, and she had to work a dull nine to five job to pay for the apartment she’d managed to rent. But she hadn’t been the only one involved in that mess. The responsibility could hardly be given to her, she’d been perfectly fine  before those kids and their talking bird arrived. Or at least she told herself.

But the fact was that, out of her distaste for things she couldn’t understand and command, was born a revulsion against that one night of the year.

Halloween. What a bunch of nonsense.

She did her best to forget the night every year. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe in ghosts, witches and monsters. She’d seen enough to know there was much in this world that she couldn’t understand. It just made her uncomfortable to have to face a whole celebration dedicated to the incomprehensible. Why should they revel in it when they could analyze it? If humans had superior intellect, only their silly superstitions stopped them from being the absolute rulers of the world.

It seemed that, in her efforts, Victoria did manage to forget about Halloween, because she gasped as soon as she stepped outside and was faced with a crowd of children dressed in colourful costumes, running around and knocking on people's doors. A group of kids nearby noticed her leaving the building in which her apartment was, and ran towards her.

“Trick or treat!” They exclaimed, raising their pumpkin shaped buckets at her. Victoria tried not to feel too guilty as she gently told them he had nothing to give them and watched them walk away crestfallen.

Her plan had been to go to the nearest convenience store, pick something to snack on since she felt like it, and return home just as quickly. With all the tumult the celebrations caused, however, she was just considering giving up on her task to head back home when she felt something bump against her leg. Looking down, she saw a white figure, much smaller than a child. As it realized it had bumped on her in its haste, it looked at her and Victoria could see the glimmer of the lamp post light on its dark eyes. It ran away, and she took off after it.

By the way the creature ran, with white linen trailing behind it, Victoria could only come to one conclusion: she’d found a ghost. And if she managed to catch it, the amount of information she could get was unimaginable! How did ghosts come back to the earth? Was it true that there were more ghosts around on Halloween? What was the afterlife like? How did a ghost even work? The excitement at the prospect of asking those questions, combined with the running which she didn’t do often left her breathless.

As she dodged them, her chase attracted the odd stares of many children, and even their complaints when she accidently hit one in the shoulder, but she didn’t care, all that mattered was getting to the ghost and taking it to somewhere where she could study it. Nevermind that this would probably be her apartment.

She came to a halt, however, when a large group of children who were crossing the street together blocked her path. She tried to squeeze her way past it, but when she had finally crossed the crowd, the ghost was nowhere in sight. 

“Oh, no” She whispered, looking around frantically. She jogged forward, coming to the end of the street, and looked into the two other streets that the one she was in led into, seeing nothing but more children. There was a fifty per cent chance she’d pick the right road, and she was about to try her luck on the path to her right when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

“Victoria… what are you doing?”

Startled, Victoria looked behind her shoulder to see the same blue haired girl who had set her weather spirit free. Her face had been painted green with black drawings that mimicked stitches, and the hair bow she was wearing had screws in its ends to make it look like they were coming out of her skull. She was accompanied by the boy Victoria also remembered, who wore dark clothes and fake fangs, and a girl Victoria hadn’t met yet, a witch hat on top of her head and wearing a black dress.

She didn’t exactly still have hard feelings towards Hilda, though she wasn’t over the fact that her interference in private matters had left her homeless and jobless. For her part, however, Hilda looked like she didn’t trust Victoria in the least.

“Oh! Hilda! You won’t believe this, I just saw a <em>ghost</em>. I’m, uh, happy to see you’re fine, by the way. With the nasty fall you took from the bureau and all.”

“Are you really?” David muttered, making Hilda elbow him softly so as to tell him not to pick on her.

Hilda asked her what the ghost she saw was like, while Frida whispered to her friends questioning who this woman was. Though she couldn’t hear what he was saying, Victoria noticed David answering in her ear.

“It was very small.” She informed, placing her hands apart from each other in order to show her esteemed measurement of it. The girl that was dressed as a witch looked at her with suspicion as her friend talked to her, but she tried to ignore the two of them and focus on Hilda. “And it really did wear a white cloth like the tales say. Pretty quick, too.”

Frida was about to refute something she said when Hilda lifted her hand, asking her not to.

“A ghost!” Hilda exclaimed, the hint of a smile on her lips. “That’s interesting. But why were you running after it?”

Victoria fidgeted, rubbing her thumb and index finger in circles. “Well, I… I’d never seen a ghost before, is all. I just wanted to try and take a look! See what they’re made of!”

Looking disappointed with the answer, Hilda sighed and shook her head negatively. “Still trying to control everything, Victoria? Haven’t you learned already?”

“That’s… that’s not it…” Victoria tried to defend herself, looking down at her feet.

“You know what?” Hilda said suddenly, her tone changing abruptly to a more joyful one. “You are not going to find anything in this crowd by yourself. Not only that, but all three of us have actual experiences with ghosts. We’ll help you with it.”

“Really?” Both Victoria and the two other children gasped.

“Really, under one condition.” She put a finger up, looking serious. “This is my first Halloween in Trolberg, and I don’t want to miss out on it. You’ll come with us and after we’re done trick or treating, we’ll help.”

“Huh?” Victoria frowned, thinking that perhaps the girl had hit her head hard after that explosion in the bureau. If she ran, she still might catch up with her ghost, but if she spent the night trick or treating, she was certain to never see it again.

“Hilda, I don’t have time-” She tried to argue, but the girl cut her off.

“Don’t you know the lore of Halloween? These ghosts will be walking around town the whole night. In fact, if you come with us, there is an even greater chance of you finding a ghost, even if not the one you just saw. But it’s all the same to science, right?”

“Yes…” Victoria rubbed her chin. “I suppose you’re right.”

“But Hilda.” David whispered to his friend, probably thinking he was being a lot more discreet than he was in reality. “She’s an adult. Adults can’t go trick or treating.”

The look Hilda gave her scared Victoria more than any child should be able to.

“They can if they’re part of our costume.”

_#_#_#_

Victoria all but dragged herself behind them, attempting not to feel like a fool.

“Is this really necessary?” she groaned, being met with Hilda’s fierce affirmation that yes, it was necessary. After they’d struck their agreement, the trio had made her take them to her apartment, where they found her lab gloves and coat and made her wear it. They hadn’t even stopped there, finding her black rain boots and asking her to put them on too.

When they began going to the first houses, she’d felt awkward standing near the children as they asked for candy. Most people ignored her, until one woman, with bright red curly hair and a sweet face chuckled at her.

“Who would you be?” She asked, not mockingly but with curiosity after dropping a large amount of sweets into the children's pumpkins.

Hilda was fast to answer. “She’s Victor Frankenstein!”

“Oh, what a lovely pair you two make!” The woman said, her eyes going back and forth between Hilda and Victoria. “You must be such a dedicated auntie. Here, have some candie as well, you deserve it.”

After putting candies in Victoria’s shelled hands, she wished them a good Halloween and closed her door. The children climbed down from her porch, but Victoria remained where she was, looking awestruck as she stared at her hands.

“Are you okay?” Frida asked, the first to realize Victoria hadn’t moved.

“Yeah, I’m alright. It’s just been a lot of time since I received candy from anyone.”

David tilted his head to the side. “You haven’t eaten candy in a long time?”

“What? No!” Victoria assured him. “I eat more candy than I should, honestly. But it’s different when you get it from someone. Everything is more special when it’s a gift, I suppose.”

“Hey, why don’t we stop and eat some of what we got tonight?” Hilda suggested, and the rest of them agreed eagerly. There was a bench nearby, and they all sat on it. As the kids dug into their pumpkin buckets, making their choice of which sweet to eat first, Victoria unwrapped a sour candy.

“Did you know that sour candies are sour because of the citric acid?” She asked, drawing the kids’ attention. “Like all acids, it has hydrogen ions which activate our tongue’s sour taste receptors! Isn’t this interesting? Of course, this is the same acid we have in some fruits, but to use it in candy you need to make it by fermenting sugar with microorganisms! Not as simple as it seems at first, I’m certain.”

“I thought you were a meteorologist.” David said after a beat.

“I am! But that doesn’t stop me from liking the other sciences as well.”

“That’s so cool, miss Van Gale!” Frida gasped, and Hilda nodded in agreement. “I hope this is not rude to ask… but there are so many things about the science books I read that I don’t understand, and our teacher can never really answer all of them. I was wondering if one day you’d be willing to help me with that?”

“Of course!” Excited at the prospect of having someone to discuss science with, Victoria nodded, happy when the girl looked joyful with her acceptance. “It's always good to revisit topics one hasn’t studied for long. Keeps the brain sharp.”

There was a pen in her labcoat’s pocket, and the woman used it to write her landline’s number on the candy wrap and give it to Frida, so she could call her for them to arrange a day.

“I think we should go.” Hilda sighed, tired because of the late hour but very happy about how her first Halloween in the city was going. “We still have many houses to visit, and I have an idea that might get us even more candy.”

_#_#_#_

“It’s moving…” Victoria uttered in the moment when Hilda, lying down in front of the house’s door, began lifting her hand. The couple that lived in the house watched them with curiosity and wonderment at their makeshift theatre. “It’s alive! It’s moving, it’s alive! In the name of God, now I know what it is like to be God! IT’S ALIVE!”

Abruptly, Hilda lifted her whole torso up, groaning as monstrously as she could. Her two friends giggled, already having received their candy, and the couple clapped at them.

“How frightening!” the woman said, dropping candy into Hilda’s pumpkin. “Happy Halloween and keep up the good work!”

The group left, laughing about how good their acting had been. They’d done it for all the past houses, and everyone who had seen it had loved it, even fellow trick or treaters. Now knowing that they were her favourite, Hilda always gave the sour candies she received to Victoria, and as she separated them from the others David complimented how genuine Victoria had sounded.

“Thank you, David. I have a talent for the dramatic arts, don’t you think?” She boasted mockingly, swiping her hand across her shoulder to push her wild hair back. The boy giggled, the apprehension he’d had of her in the beginning of the night all but gone. Without them even noticing, the resentment each of them had towards the other seemed to have melted away with the time they spent together.

“I just think ‘mad scientist’ comes to you naturally, Victoria.” He retorted, and she brought her hand to her heart in fake outrage, making them all laugh.

“It’s getting really late.” Frida said unwillingly. “I think I’ve got to go home.”

They all looked at the wrist clock Frida was wearing, and Victoria was surprised to find herself sad that her time with the children had come to an end. It made her even more surprised, when she remembered the ghost, that her first thought had been about the children and not about what they’d promised her.

After that, David also sighed and mumbled that he had to go, otherwise his parents might get worried. Hilda didn’t say anything, nor did she look at Victoria.

“I still…” Victoria began. She didn’t want to force kids to stay out past the time they should just to help her, but it seemed like they had forgotten. “I still need to look for the ghost.”

Hilda sighed, the same sigh from hours ago, when they’d found her running around like mad, and she finally looked at Victoria. The woman didn’t like the resignation in her eyes.

Unlike Hilda, when the two other kids looked at her, she could see that the ghost really had slipped from their minds, and that they even felt guilty about it.

“You two go home. I’ll help Victoria find her ‘ghost’.”

They nodded and said good night to both Hilda and Victoria, beginning their walk on the direction they had come from. Something about the way Hilda had said the word “ghost” didn’t sit right with her. If she was being honest, the fact that she’d apparently taken the girl from her happy mood to this silent one didn’t either. She told herself it didn’t matter, they had struck a deal and it wasn’t like she was the girl’s “auntie” like some of the people they saw seemed to think. But even though it didn’t matter, it still made her feel a pang in her chest when the most energetic, positive person she’d seen in years sat down on the concrete edge of the sidewalk.

“I thought you’d let this go.” She muttered, looking at a point in the distance. “I thought that maybe you’d have fun and realize that there’s so much beauty around, especially in te things you can’t control. But I suppose it would be asking for too much, to change a person in a night.”

She whistled suddenly, and Victoria heard the tip-tap of something small coming their way.

“Come here boy!” Hilda exclaimed, and when Victoria looked at the spot Hilda was watching, she saw the same creature she’d seen hours before running her way, and gasped when it happily came into Hilda’s arms.

After picking it up, Hilda turned to her, her face serious. “Is this your ghost?”“It is!” Victoria nodded, her mouth wide in surprise. The biggest surprise, however, came when Hilda lifted the veil from the creature, revealing a white, fluffy looking deerfox.

“Frida wanted to tell you in the beginning of the night. What I said was true, we have had experiences with ghosts, and we know that ghosts don’t wear veils like in the tales. I had dressed Twig up to come with me tonight, but I gave him the command to follow us from afar when I saw you. He must have bumped into you when he was bringing back the stick I threw him. Though he didn’t give me anything, so he mustn’t have been able to find it.” “What?” She gasped, watching Hilda shake her head and get up. “I don’t understand.”

“I know I’m young, Victoria, and I’m still getting used to the whole living in society thing. But there’s one thing I do know that you need to understand. If you keep believing life is a battle, you’ll never stop seeing enemies all around.”

After saying that, she walked away down the same road Frida and David had too. Disappointed, confused and guilty all at the same time, Victoria let herself fall down to the ground, sitting on the edge of the sidewalk.

Though it was the most dangerous night of the year, she was beginning to think she was the only monster around.

[untapanimedraw]

Anime of the Decade 2018

Oh boy, we’re getting close to current day. So much anime, where to start? How about the beginning of the year? Lets get started!

Winter:

Darling in the FranXX - Oh man, what a way for Trigger to drop the ball. For what was set up to be such an interesting show with a cool premise and a variety of characters, they just had to go and pull a typical Trigger ending with SPACE! There’s a lot to like about this show and it gave us an iconic best girl in Zero Two, but the ending is just so lackluster and disappointing that it really casts a sad pall over the whole show. 

Skilled Teaser Takagi-san - I have never seen such a heartwarming, wholesome, calm, low-stakes, enjoyable show like this ever. It’s a just budding romance between a couple middle school kids where all the flirting is cloaked behind Takagi-san’s teasing and Nishikata’s naïveté . Truly a show worth watching. 

Yuru Camp - Speaking of chill shows, this was definitely the laid-back (pun intended) show of the season. This is a very nice slice of life show about a bunch of cute girls camping in the winter. Lots of yuri undertones and a fun cast make this a really fun show to watch. Also season 2 in 2020!

After the Rain - A romance show that’s all about to very different and lost people who come together and find romance, but not in each other. They use their connection to find what love means to them, and it’s a fully underrated and sweet show. The art style is really nice and unique and the sound design is A+. 

A Place Further Than the Universe - And here we have my AOTS and a very strong contender for AOTY. The story plot is really just a group of girls go to Antarctica, but like in almost all things: it’s not the destination, it’s the journey. And that goes doubly so for this show where it’s fully character driven, and the four main girls are all different enough and unique in their own ways that there’s a lot comedy and growth and maturity. So fucking good. 

Ms. Koizumi-san Loves Ramen Noodles - I’m including this for 2 reasons. Number 1, like always, cute anime girls. And Number 2, you get a fairly decent education in styles of ramen. If you like ramen and anime girls, watch this show. I learned there are so many types of ramen in different regions and really just whatever the chefs want to create to make something unique. 

Spring:

Last Period - This is an action/magic/fantasy show that’s not really any of that. It is, but it’s really more of a full on comedy parody of gatcha-games and the related tropes. It’s a really fun comedy with excellent ED and OP songs. 

Megalo Box - Hot damn, how do we in the year 2018 get a show that’s straight out of the 80′s and still look and sound like the best of the year? Absolutely unique and excellent in all regards. It’s my AOTS for sure. 

Comic Girls - This is a show all about finding confidence in what you want to do. Lot of cute girls, fun comedic situations, and just a nice feel-good show. 

Golden Kamuy - Ever been vaguely interested in Japanese history? No not samurais and stuff, but like late 19th and early 20th century Japanese history and some of the indigenous peoples who kinda got pushed out. It’s a story about war, the Ainu people, and a legitimate Gold Rush! Fantastic show that got a second season and I’m holding out hope for a third. 

Hinamatsuri - Definitely the comedy of the season for me, though in the end it almost ended up more heartwarming and adorable than full on comedy. 

Sword Art Online Alternative: Gun Gale Online - Ever wanted to explore the ideas and games of SAO without the main characters holding the story back? This is the show for you. It’s a legitimately good SAO show without any of the drawbacks and baggage the main story carries with it. 

Wotakoi: Love is Hard for Otaku - One of the most relate-able and honest adult romance stories I’ve even seen. This isn’t some shitty high school rom-com that spends the whole 12 episodes building up to a confession that may or may not turn into anything. This takes care of all that in the first 2 episodes and then spends the rest of its time exploring the ins and outs of an actual relationship. All while both work together and have their own otaku hobbies. 

Summer:

Attack on Titan S3 - The political navigating begins! This aired in 2 parts with a couple seasons between them so I guess it’s technically 2 seasons though not. And part 2 is rightly hailed as the best of AOT so far, but this part 1 has one of the best action scenes I’ve ever witnessed. The Levi chase scene is so fucking good. 

Overlord S3 - There is a whole lot of interesting story that happens in this season and a lot of good, but it almost all gets brought down by some absolutely terrible CGI in the last couple episodes. 

How Not to Summon a Demon Lord - That a stupidly trashy show. I fucking love it. 

Grand Blue - Grand Blue is a diving show! That is like 90% college shenanigains and drinking. It’s also quite funny and has some fantastic faces. 

Asobi Asobase - I’m a big fan of comedies, and somehow this one seems to top everything I’ve seen. The scenarios, the voice acting, the art, the timing, the OP and ED... literally everything about this show is cranked to 11 in order to provide the best comedy experience around. AOTS. 

Fall:

That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime - This is a super fun isekai show that is done well. No there’s not an overpowered, black-haired, generic MC; in fact the MC isn’t even human, he’s a slime! Who just so happens to befriend an elder dragon and use the unique slime characteristics to kinda become stupidly overpowered. He just wants to chill and have some fun and ends up building a nation of monster-kin while he’s at it. Lots of comedy, lots of fun, enough well-animated action to keep you entertained, and a lot of heart for this little slime and his family that he builds. 

Sword Art Online: Alicization - More SAO! This is supposed to actually be good though... and I have to agree! 

Goblin Slayer - Goblins are a menace, but they’re not flashy so most of the adventurers just ignore them. However the titular Goblin Slayer knows better, when they gather en masse they are a force to be reckoned with and can even wipe out whole cities not to mention any little villages along the way. He will not stand for that and has specialized in goblin hunting. Are there goblins to kill? He’ll do it. Souka. 

Bunny Girl Senpai - The romance/mystery story that took the anime community by storm. The movie that came out later was a heartwrencher too. So good. 

Run With The Wind - Here we get to my AOTS and strong contender for AOTY. I never thought that an anime about a bunch of boys working towards running a relay marathon would be one of my favorite shows of the entire year, but here we are. It just has so much heart and soul that’s it just ends up being a greater than the sum of it’s parts situation. 

Alright, so we have A Place Further than the Universe, Megalo Box, Asobi Asobase, and Run With the Wind. Like with every year so far, the AOTY comes down to personal preference and this year goes to Run With the Wind. 

[wrathofthewind]

v. Dawn

He had at least succeeded at one thing, making the stakes incomparably attractive. Two aerial rings for the grabs? It could take centuries to get your hands on even a single of the necessary stones required to make one, let alone two that had already been refined, honed, primed for use.

Aerial magic was derived from the stones of the En-Aerlil, or as everyone knew it: the endless abyss. A marine sinkhole with a network of maze-like underwater caverns at the heart of the Aegerian sea. In the nearly 3000 years since its discovery, thousands had dived in to find the precious stones or explore its depths, and only a few hundred had returned. Of those that returned, exactly 11 carried with them the powerful stones. Many thought, these stones were the magical core of their world, a source of life and phenomena itself. It was as if they’d removed pieces of the realm’s nervous system and acquired the power of gods. There wasn’t anything particularly dynamic about this power at first, but with steady practice and deep concentration, many started to refine its manifestation.

At first, several families carried with them stones, but now, only 5 noble families, of which the Azurians held 5. Arnalt nodded in the direction of his elder brothers and sisters as he entered the arena. He then turned to the few nobles they’d invited on short notice, and the council. Members of the second most powerful family were also present: Duke Skvellan, and council member Wojra, of House De Ghres. Present were also a few members of Houses Naran and Li Bianq. Only one house wasn’t present if he thought about it, not that they would ever show up in an Azurian palace…

“I hope you win today, 3 Aerial rings and you’ll officially be more powerful than Father, or maybe even the Opal!�� The voice was milky sweet and melodious, with only a subtle rasp. It came from his brother, the 11th Prince.

“Bael, I didn’t think you’d rise so early.” Arnalt’s face immediately softened slightly. If it could be said that his relationship with Ithana was at the very least one of mutual respect, compared to all his other siblings, only Bael and him truly got along.

“Tell me about it.” Bael yawned and stretched his arms, “Youth is the only reason you’re so bushy-tailed and ready to brawl this early in the morning, by heavens the sun’s not even out!” That raspy quality, from the tender herbs Bael loved to smoke, was the only reminder to anyone that Bael was in fact older than Arnalt, despite his rounded cheeks and deeply luscious raven curls. It was hard to see them as brothers as well, Bael with a thick dark eyebrows, a mouth as luscious and playful as his curls, eyes that were almond-shaped and constantly curious, with a slight bump at the top of his nose, refined into an elegant tip above his mouth. His skin was light and olive, and his figure was as generous as his meals. He looked like a cherub from the night sky, infinitely younger.

Arnalt in contrast felt paper-pale and gloomy. His own hair straight and flat, the color of hay, his face far more angular, even if it looked softer when relaxed. And he could never smile the way Bael could, his lips thinner and unable to stretch that far. Bael seemed like he could hug the whole world with a single smile, and because he was slightly shorter, Arnalt felt a bit awkward and slightly bent his waist and back, unconsciously wanting to appear smaller so as to reflect their actual age and status. Because Bael, with the million watt smile and the bright green eyes, was in fact the owner of the most profitable of the Azurian city-states.

His trade? The herbs he smoked and the bottle of fruit wine in his hand. He took a leisurely swig from it now.  “I see the usual suspects have shown up.”

“You’d think it was the Trial of Kings.” Arnalt scoffed.

“That silly match where only one Aerial stone is at stake? Pfft, so puny. What is that compared to my sweet younger brother’s challenge for world domination!” Bael’s mirth was contagious, but it made Arnalt pause.

He hadn’t thought much about it when he first proposed the duel. He just wanted a tempting enough offer to make Ithana accept.

He glanced at the rows and rows of seats in the arena slowly filling up. He’d surmised wrong, that few people were coming, but as the hour approached, and even with such short notice, Arnalt realized that a sea of villagers was coming in to witness the event. Knights, servants, nobles, monks, anyone who was close enough to the palace and could attend was actually showing up!

Well shit. So he had to fight seriously?

“Is that… F-Father?” Arnalt never stuttered. Never. Except for one man.

Bael took another swig of his fruit wine. “Ahh… well fuck. Good luck!” He patted Arnalt’s back and moved to sit next to his entourage, all of them dressed in billowy gowns with shades of sunrise, painting a decadent and gilded picture next to the more weary and bleary-eyed nobles who still couldn’t believe they’d had to wake up so early.

Arnalt approached his father and bowed, out of respect, and to not accidentally insult him, and to maybe win a bit of his favor. He wasn’t sure. His father’s generosity was unpredictable, but if he could somehow catch his eye today, he might just be able to do more than let Marius escape.

“My King.”

“Arnalt.” His father’s voice clipped. “You can call me Father when we’re in your household like this. This isn’t the Azurian Sky Hall .”  

“F-father.”

That displeased him, that one simple stutter. Ah well, he rarely got his favor by talking or existing anyway. Maybe his sword would persuade him.

“I hope you win today Arnalt, you’ve put something very precious at stake, so I hope this is a moment to show me how proud I should be of you, and not how you allow Ithana to so easily get away with capriciousness.”

The fact that Ithana had gifted an Aerial ring to her knight was a display of both power and utter irresponsibility in the eyes of the Azurian King. She had won her ring as a prize in the Trial of Kings. And then gone back a decade later and won again, becoming the pride of their family, The Lioness of Azuria. But giving it to her Knight? A mere ward? Why, it was almost as shocking as Arnalt’s ward winning it for himself in a duel. But at least then it hadn’t been Arnalt who gifted it.

But it said more about Ithana that she could care less if she offended the Azurian King. She’d won the Trial of Kings twice, and that alone put her above the rest. She was a renown war general, a tremendous force of spirit and single-handedly purified her Aerial stone until it became “The Gale”. Arnalt could still only summon strong gusts of wind.  

Such a person, Arnalt would face today.

He twisted the Aerial ring in his hand and smirked. When he thought about it, wasn’t it equally capricious of him to allow a Kurian to possess such a treasure? Even as a battle spoil? He shook his head.

Marius had bested her Knight. Fair and square he hoped, he wasn’t sure, he hadn’t really attended that duel. He didn’t think the battle would be that exciting so he’d slept in that day.

Ithana was already warming up with her blade on the other side of the arena.

“Tsk, to think they’re so spoiled the wager Aerial stones like this.” The voice came from one of the Li Bianq nobles. He didn’t care to see their face. “Is it true he owns a Kurian?”

Owns a Kurian. Arnalt almost burst out laughing. What a silly thought.

At best he’d just found himself stuck to one. 

Rare were the days when Marius helped with the kitchen staff that he didn’t finish his tasks quickly to quietly sneak off and watch Arnalt and his guards train. More than once he’d found him mimicking their movements with a mop behind the bushes. Arnalt let a “pfft” slip at the memory.

Just as easily, his face became the marble sculpture he was known for. Nobles and villagers alike straightened their postures and whoever had been loitering finally sat down. A silence blanketed the arena.

The sun finally crested over the horizon.

Dawn had arrived.

And as the designated monk began the ritual prayers and rites, Arnalt took his position across from Ithana and raised his sword, taking a deep breath and momentarily closing his eyes to focus. When he blinked them open once more, Ithana’s Falchion sword, alight like a thunderstorm, was already slicing through the wind and inches from his throat.