#marillion au

[thelyingspectre]

TALES OF MARILLION IS OUT!!!

READ IT NOW PLEASE!

[thelyingspectre]

HERES THE LINK!

And Its Posted With 22 058 Words!!!!

HELL YEAH

[miracul0us-multishipper]

Could I Write a Fic based off of the Marillion AU?

I really like it.

sure go nuts!!!

[metal-dortmund]

Letztes Deutschlandkonzert von Fish@FZW, 15.11.2024

Gänsehaut ab der ersten Minute! Es war eigentlich zu erwarten, dass der in die Jahre gekommene Schott-Rocker zu seiner Abschiedstournee und im ausverkauften letzten Deutschlandkonzert im FZW nochmal richtig aufdreht. Haben doch auch einige Fans Anderes während seiner Laufbahn erlebt, wenn Fish einfach mal keinen guten Tag hatte. Sein Alter tat aber seiner Stimme keinerlei Abbruch und inmitten einem Potpourri aus Songs seiner Schaffenszeit erzählte der Altmeister von der Liebe zu seiner Frau und über das Leben. Nur ein schnäppisches "I choose the songs!" ließ den ollen Griesgram aufkommen, als das - ziemlich alte - Publikum "Incommunicado" forderte. Dafür endete es dann mit einem versöhnlichen "The Company", das auf ein Marillion-Medley nach der ersten Zugabe folgte. Inmitten des Sets auch das epische "Plague Of Ghosts". Ehrfürchtig verließ man den Saal nach 2 1/4 Stunden Spielzeit mit dem freudigen Gedanken, hier dabei gewesen zu sein und vielleicht bleibt ja noch sein Podcast "Fish on Friday", wie es an diesem Tag nicht hätte passender sein können. Tolle Backgroundsängerin im übrigen.

[theart2rock]

Voyager-X veröffentlichen Single Hypnotize You

VOYAGER-X widmen ihre neue Progressive Metal Single „Hypnotize You" der Bedeutung des Zitats 'Brot und Spiele' in Zeiten des Medien-Overkills. Nur wenige Wochen nach dem fulminanten Start ihrer ersten Singleauskopplung „Janus Face" und dem mittlerweile über 30.000 Mal auf YouTube aufgerufenen Lyric-Video von Kult-Videograf Wayne Joyner (u. a. Dream Theater, Alter Bridge, Ayreon) legt die nach fast dreißig Jahren wiedervereinigte Progressive Metal Band VOYAGER-X mit ihrer neuen Single „Hypnotize You" noch eine ordentliche Schüppe drauf. Der Song, der gerne als Opener bei Konzerten gespielt wird, thematisiert den bereits in den 90er Jahren immer dominanter werdenden Medienwahnsinn und ist heute bedauerlicherweise mehr denn je aktuell. Eingebettet in den täglichen Strom des Medienoverkills ist Brot und Spiele für das Volk ein bewährtes Mittel, um von den echten Problemen wie Kriegen, Umweltzerstörung usw. abzulenken. Verstärkt durch Mario Gansens eindringlich-mitreißenden Gesang und das virtuose Zusammenspiel seiner Bandkollegen ist „Hypnotize You" ein außergewöhnliches Highlight ihres bereits von der Presse hochgelobten Albums „Magic", das am 22.03.2024 über Dr. Music Records erscheint und mit seiner magischen Mischung aus Progressive Metal, Melodic Rock und Hard Rock die Fans begeistern wird. Das neue, von Mario Gansen und Bassist Jörg Schreiber in Zusammenarbeit mit Romin Katzer produzierte Lyric-Video bringt zudem die Botschaft des Songs auch audiovisuell treffsicher auf den Punkt: https://youtu.be/wKIMevI4nzk Die medienkritische neue Progressive Metal Single „Hypnotize You" von VOYAGER-X ist ab sofort genauso wie der bereits veröffentlichte Song „Janus Face", der von in den Wahnsinn treibenden Albträumen handelt, als Download und Stream bei allen bekannten Plattformen erhältlich: Spotify | Amazon | Amazon.com | Apple Music & iTunes | Deezer | Tidal | YouTube Music VOYAGER-X gehörten zwischen 1987 und 1997 zur Spitze der aufstrebenden Rockszene rund um Nürnberg und Süddeutschland. Ihr erfrischender Sound mit einer originellen Bühnenperformance und starken Songs begeisterte Fans härterer Rockmusik auf unzähligen Konzerten und Festivals. Sänger Mario Gansen nahm 1979 mit der deutschen Krautrock-Formation Grim Reaper das Album „We Were All Fools ..." auf und spielte im Vorprogramm von Judas Priest und auch von Motörhead bei deren 1980er Bomber-Tour. Während eines Dynasty Gigs, seiner zweiten größeren Band, traf er erstmals auf die VOYAGER-X Musiker Stephan und Jörg, mit denen er darauf die nächsten zehn Jahre gemeinsam erfolgreich musizierte und die auch heute noch an Bord sind. Eigentlich hätte das Album „Magic" bereits 1997 erscheinen sollen, doch kurz nach den Aufnahmen der Songs im Zirndorfer Deckelmann Studio, entschieden die Musiker aufgrund ihrer damaligen Lebensumstände, die sie rund um den Globus verteilte, ihre Band, die damals noch VOYAGER hieß, auf Eis zu legen. Aus diesem Dornröschenschlaf erwachte die Gruppe dann erst, nachdem sich die Originalbesetzung bestehend aus Sänger Mario Gansen, Gitarrist Stephan Baumgärtner, Bassist Jörg Schreiber, Keyboarder Christian Mordek und Schlagzeuger Peter Webert während einer Veranstaltung im Jahr 2019 traf und dabei die Idee zündete, das fortzusetzen, was 22 Jahre zuvor nach einer aufregenden Dekade intensiv gelebten Rock 'n' Roll Lifestyle so abrupt endete. Aufgrund anderer Bands, die den Namen inzwischen nutzten, wurde der Bandname in VOYAGER-X umbenannt. In den Lyrics, die aus der Feder von Sänger Mario Gansen (ex-Grim Reaper, ex-Dynasty) stammen, werden politische wie auch immer noch aktuelle Ereignisse verarbeitet. Die neun Songs entschweben förmlich der Zeit, als musikalische Virtuosität und Gesangskunst noch perfekt harmonierten und Bands wie Van Halen, Survivor, Marillion oder Saga die Charts dominierten und erhielten durch das Remastering von Romin Katzer ein modernes Soundgewand. Die Süddeutschen schlagen mit ihrer anspruchsvollen Rockmusik gekonnt die Brücke von klassischem Bombast- und Artrock hin zu moderneren Sounds und verstehen sich als Entertainer mit einem gewissen Anspruch, die ihr Publikum mit ihrem abwechslungsreichen Programm auf eine Reise durch ihre eigene Rockgeschichte mitnehmen. Daher dürfen sich Freunde großartiger melodischer Rockklänge, im Stil von Queensrÿche, Fates Warning oder Savatage jetzt auf die Veröffentlichung des außergewöhnlichen Albums „Magic" freuen, das ab sofort als Digifile-CD u. a. bei folgenden Plattenhändlern vorbestellbar ist! VOYAGER-X „Magic" Streaming & Download: Amazon | Apple Music & iTunes VOYAGER-X „Magic" Digifile CD: Amazon | Buecher.de | Weltbild | Just For Kicks Music | Grooves | ExLibris | MVD Quelle: Dr. Music Promotion Lesen Sie den ganzen Artikel

[arofili]

@finweanladiesweek day seven | genderbending | finwë ñoldotári, high queen of the ñoldor

          F I N W Ë it was who accompanied Oromë to Aman alongside her sistren Elwë and Ingwë, and after led the Ñoldor to the Blessed Realm as the second host of the Eldar. She constructed the city of Tirion, and was crowned Ñ O L D O T Á R I, High Queen of the Ñoldor.

          Finwë wed Mírion and bore their daughter Fëanárë, Spirit of Fire. The creation of such a bright and powerful fëa taxed Finwë’s strength, but with the aid of Mírion her husband she in time recovered. Fëanárë was raised in a household happy and whole, with two parents who loved her dearly.

          In time, Finwë and Mírion welcomed another man into their household: Venno the Fair, kinsman to Queen Ingwë of the Vanyar. Such a triadic relationship was unprecedented among the Eldar, but Finwë loved both her husbands and Mírion and Venno had always been very close.

          Finwë bore four more children, not wishing to discern which of her husbands had fathered them, and Fëanárë loved her new siblings with a fierce protectiveness bordering on possessiveness. These were Finvenno and Ñolofinwë and Írimo and Arafinwë, and they adored their oldest sister Fëanárë. Finwë watched her children grow in light and happiness, until Melkor began to sow unrest in Aman.

          Fëanárë refused any counsel of the Dark Vala, and her siblings followed her lead; however, Finwë herself was curious to what Melkor offered the Ñoldor. Even as Fëanárë crafted the Silmarils, aided by her seven daughters and her siblings, Finwë worked at the side of Melkor to create new tools unlike any before seen by the Eldar: weapons of steel and iron.

          At last Melkor’s evils were revealed when Finwë discovered the Vala’s plan to muster an army and use these weapons to attack Taniquetildë, and when she protested she was slain in Melkor’s rage. With the aid of Ungoliant Melkor destroyed the Two Trees and assailed Fëanárë unto the theft of the Silmarils.

           Fëanárë raged against the loss of her beloved mother, and rallying her siblings and her fathers, she marched east in pursuit of Melkor. With the Ñoldor united, the Oath of Fëanárë sworn by all Finwë’s children, and the persuasion of their own Prince Eärvin husband of Arafinwë, the Teleri were persuaded to lend the use of their white ships in aid of their friends the Ñoldor, and the Flight to Middle-earth was motivated not only in the hope of reclaiming the Silmarils, but in avenging the murder of the beloved Queen Finwë.

[notes on name changes below the cut]

Notes on name changes:

Finwë is technically a gender-neutral name; wë is usually glossed as “man” but as in the example of Elenwë it technically means only “person.” Thus, Finwë and names derivative of Finwë remain the same, as do the names Elwë and Ingwë.

Míriel (jewel-daughter) becomes Mírion (jewel-son); iel → ion

Indis (wife; bride) becomes Venno (husband; groom). Findis thus also becomes Finvenno; it was nice that Finwë and Indis shared some letters that easily formed a name meaning “hair bride” but now that combination of names isn’t quite as poetic, though it retains its basic structure and meaning.

Írimë becomes Írimo and Fëanáro becomes Fëanárë; ë vs. o is simply an indication of gender.

Eärwen becomes Eärvin; wen comes from wendë (maiden) and the masculine equivalent would be vindë (youth). Likewise, though I didn’t mention it, Lalwendë/Lalwen would become Lalvindë/Lalvin.

I’m not sure if I’m swapping genders for the Valar in the AU…I just didn’t refer to Melkor with any gendered pronouns. While this is fun to think about, I don’t really want to expand this much further. To be honest, after this point, it comes to resemble the Good King Fëanor AU @thishazeleyeddemon and I created in terms of a broad outline…though with details changed, certainly.

The main difference from this AU/that AU and canon is that Fëanárë loves her siblings fiercely, and the Noldor are much more united (though the reasons are different between the AUs). Changing Finwë to a woman (and not!! killing her in childbirth basically!!) really does affect the rest of the Silm…even if I didn’t also genderbend everyone else!

[selkiewife]

@the-king-andthe-lionheart​, thanks for your questions and comments! It was easier for me to create whole new post because this got long, so I’ll respond to your questions on my post here.

cw/tw: This post contains description of rape and sexual assault, and discussion of seizures.

First, it’s important for me to reiterate that even if Sansa is not being triggered, she still has every right to reject unwanted touch from Sweetrobin.

But the reason I got the impression that Sansa was being triggered by the touching of her breasts is because she has experienced sexual trauma related to her breasts being touched or exposed at least three times before Sweetrobin nuzzles her there. First, as Joffrey is having her beaten in front of the court, he orders Boros to strip her naked:

Boros shoved a meaty hand down the front of Sansa's bodice and gave a hard yank. The silk came tearing away, baring her to the waist. Sansa covered her breasts with her hands. She could hear sniggers, far off and cruel. "Beat her bloody," Joffrey said...

On her forced wedding night she is asked to strip again:

She kept her eyes on the floor, too shy to look at him, but when she was done she glanced up and found him staring. There was hunger in his green eye, it seemed to her, and fury in the black. Sansa did not know which scared her more." You're a child," he said. She covered her breasts with her hands. "I've flowered."

Then when she is told to get into bed:

She had started to pull up a blanket to cover herself when she heard him say, "No." The cold made her shiver, but she obeyed. Her eyes closed, and she waited. After a moment she heard the sound of her husband pulling off his boots, and the rustle of clothing as he undressed himself. When he hopped up on the bed and put his hand on her breast, Sansa could not help but shudder. She lay with her eyes closed, every muscle tense, dreading what might come next. 

Then after she has escaped King’s Landing with Little Finger, Marillion, the singer, attempts to rape her. 

Sansa jerked away from him, frightened. "If you don't leave me, my au—my father will hang you. Lord Petyr."

"Littlefinger?" He chuckled. "Lady Lysa loves me well, and I am Lord Robert's favorite. If your father offends me, I will destroy him with a verse." He put a hand on her breast, and squeezed. "Let's get you out of these wet clothes. You wouldn't want them ripped, I know."

So when Sweetrobin climbs into her bed and nuzzles against her breast, I do think that it triggers her. As she describes:

She would not have minded if he only slept, but he was always trying to nuzzle at her breasts.

We understand why he is doing it and so does Sansa- even though he is eight, he’s still weaning since Lysa was still breastfeeding him and she died so suddenly. Sansa knows he is only looking for comfort. But at the age of thirteen, Sansa has already had three traumatic incidents related to unwanted touching or displaying of her breasts (two of which happened when she was only twelve.)

TWOW Spoilers: It sickens me just talking about this as well, but Arya is also groped at the age of eleven in the Mercy chapter of TWOW. So I completely agree with you that Arya is going through the same kind of abuse and traumas as her sister. At the time she cares for Weasel, I don’t think she has been touched in this way (I may be wrong.) But even if she wasn’t and didn’t have any sort of trigger, I would still not judge Arya to be “unmotherly” or lacking compassion if she rejected a touch from Weasel there or anywhere else on her body.

Speaking of Weasel, I did not say that Arya’s situation was any less traumatic than Sansa. And I totally agree, Arya is on the run, starving, traumatized, and hunted. I also did not intend to say Weasel herself was any less traumatized than Sweetrobin. I do believe that it is kind of ridiculous to compare traumas anyway and obviously it is just not right to do that. However I do think that Sweetrobin may be more difficult to care for than Weasel at baseline. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t have thought to compare which child was harder. But it was Sansa’s care of Sweetrobin that was being called into question, not Arya’s. So I did start to compare how difficult each child would be to care for when thinking about why Sansa reacts to Sweetrobin the way she does sometimes. 

So it was intentional when I said that I think Sweetrobin is arguably harder to care for than Weasel, just objectively speaking, for a number of reasons. I also said arguably, because you could argue the opposite- that Weasel is harder. Or say they are equally hard. I mean, Weasel is tough to deal with as well. She cried so much she was called “the crying girl” before she got the nickname Weasel and she even kicked Hot Pie once I think. And she also has that habit of eating mud. And even Gendry complained that she was slowing them down (Isn’t it interesting how the fandom never calls Gendry’s fathering skills into question even though he would have willingly abandoned a traumatized child?) 

But one reason that I personally think that Weasel is easier to care for is because she is more likable than Sweetrobin and less demanding. Although this may be just my own feelings as a reader (which are subjective), Weasel was endearing to me immediately in a way that I didn’t feel with Sweetrobin at first. Now I know that might sound harsh, but I think that GRRM writes Sweetrobin to be off-putting purposely and I will explain why later. He does that with a lot of characters. Sansa for one, but also Theon, Jaime etc... there are a lot of characters in asoiaf that you are set up to dislike at first, before coming to understand and root for them later. I think Sweetrobin is one of those characters. And I think Sansa feels similarly toward him- gradually bonding with him instead of instantaneously. 

And we know Arya seems to like Weasel immediately. She even chooses “Weasel” as one of her aliases later in her arc and she tends to pick names of people she loves. I also think Weasel and Arya have a lot in common. They are both resilient, traumatized little girls on the run you know? I loved that out of the whole group they were the only ones unafraid to eat bugs when they were starving (these poor children!) And so, I feel like Arya could identify with her in a lot of ways.

Whereas I think that Sansa takes longer to bond with Sweetrobin because it is more complicated with him for a couple of reasons. For one, even before the trauma, Lysa has been raising Sweetrobin to be a spoiled brat. He is also emotionally stunted as a result of the way Lysa has kept him isolated and coddled. And even though I don’t think that Sweetrobin really understands what is happening when he is so gleeful about making people “fly” through the moon door- it’s still a little chilling and off putting. 

A specific reason that I think Sansa doesn’t immediately warm to him is that even before she meets him, Lysa intends for them to wed each other. Sansa has just left a traumatizing marriage into the Lannister family and the last thing she wants is another forced marriage right now. As Lysa instructs her:

“He likes to play hopfrog and spin-the-sword and come-into-my-castle, but you must always let him win. That's only proper, don't you think? He is the Lord of the Eyrie, after all, you must never forget that... My son will have a grateful and obedient wife.”

Sweetrobin, at first, symbolizes another unwanted, forced marriage to Sansa. So she might have an initial aversion to him just because of this. And I stand by my original assessment that this does make the situation with Sweetrobin more fucked up than Weasel. Weasel represents a frightened, traumatized child to Arya. Whereas Sweetrobin represents a traumatized child as well, but also a possible future husband that Sansa would have to be “grateful and obedient” to. Of course that changes once Lysa dies- but it is still the way she was introduced to him. And Robert still talks about marrying her in TWOW. We know that it is just a sweet crush from a little boy- but again, even the sweet things he does is sometimes off putting to Sansa because it is related to her trauma. Not to mention the fact that she is only caring for him because his mother tried to murder her. And she is dealing with misplaced guilt since Baelish ended up murdering Lysa after that incident. So Sweetrobin is intricately linked with her trauma.

And then his behavior in general is tough to deal with. None of it is his fault, but it still tough nonetheless. He is given to temper tantrums, throwing his chamber pot and bowls of food at people, and he is very petulant- and this was part of his character even before Lysa was murdered. He kind of reminds me of Colin from The Secret Garden. Like, it’s not his fault he is a spoiled brat, but he does start out like that.

He also has health issues and seizures. Obviously this is not his fault, but Sansa doesn’t have the necessary training to deal with his seizures or know the appropriate thing to do when he is having them. Sansa gives him sweetsleep so that he doesn’t have a seizure on the way down the mountain. As you said, she has no idea it could lead to his death and the side effects seem to be way less of a threat than him having a seizure and falling to his death. She is not a maester and doesn’t know the true effects of what she thinks is a medicine. Maester Coleman is the one who knows how harmful it is. And as the actual adult in the situation, he should either clearly tell her “hey, this will kill him,” or intervene himself. 

She has also been injured while trying to help him during a seizure:

Alayne turned to soothe the little lordling, but too late. The fit was on him. A pitcher of milk went flying as his hand caught it, flailing. When he tried to rise he knocked his chair backwards and fell on top of it. One foot caught Alayne in the belly, so hard it knocked the wind from her. 

And it’s worth mentioning that she never complains specifically about these incidents because she knows it is not his fault at all. That is it just part of his illness. She never complains about him at all actually to his face or to others- she is always sweet and soothing. The only reason we know of her frustrations at all is because we can read her thoughts. Which is similar to Arya who is bothered by Weasel’s crying as well but always defends her against the others who are complaining. 

But I think that Sweetrobin is purposely set up to be a difficult child to care for- because, as I said in the original post, Sansa is on a learning arc. She is learning to care for him (And I think she does an excellent job, personally.) Whereas, Arya’s relationship with Weasel is set up to reveal her compassion, her leadership skills, and ability to stand up for people (like when Gendry wants to leave Weasel behind.)

I agree with you that Sansa represses a lot of Little Finger’s machinations due to her trauma. But I don’t think she knows that Sweetrobin is being poisoned. I think she buys Little Finger’s story that Robert will die because of his health issues. And even then, I think she hopes for the best. Why else would she want to make him stronger and brave? Why else would she hope for a kind wife for him one day, if she was knowingly poisoning him? It doesn’t make sense. But I do think that GRRM leaves some things purposely vague so that it creates suspense. Will she realize he is being poisoned in time? If she does, will she try to save him? I think she will but that is probably one of the reasons he made Sweetrobin so difficult for Sansa specifically. To plant that seed of doubt in the reader. Like we know Arya would do anything to save Weasel. That’s a no brainer. But would Sansa save Sweetrobin? I think yes, and I will write a longer post about this at some point. But regardless, her initial complicated feelings toward him does serve to create narrative suspense.

Anyway, thanks for the questions and sorry that my explanation got so long. I hope you don’t take what I said, comparing Sweetrobin to Weasel, as me saying anything bad against Arya. It breaks my heart when I think of the trauma she has survived and is currently going through as well. And there are definitely many situations where she is dealing with things that are objectively harder than Sansa as well. And like I said, this is just my opinion of the two different childcare plots. 

And also, this may be controversial, but I think Arya absolutely did the right thing when she slapped Weasel to get her to move out of the battle. She needed to do whatever she could as a ten year old child trying to save a toddler’s life! Like seriously, if I were Weasel’s mother I would never be like “why did you slap my child?” I’d be like, "thank you for saving my child!” But like I said, I probably wouldn’t even have tried to compare the difficulty of the two situations had it not been for the initial comparison in the discourse. 

[agentrouka-blog]

Sweet Lady - a Sansa key phrase

The wonderful @esther-dot was so kind as to introduce me to the precious resource that is asearchoficeandfire.com and I have been down a rabbit hole ever since. Or more so than usual. (As far as quarantine with toddlers and work, both, allow me, anyway.) It's marvelous for letting you do unfocused word combinations, which really does wonders for finding text parallels and such. But that is a post for another day.

It did inspire me to search all my book files for an exact phrase, though. "Sweet Lady". It doesn't count all the other instances for sweet, lady, my sweet, sweet queen, sweet XYZ, sweetling or what have you. We already know that "sweet" can be a code for falseness. So I didn't want to confuse the issue. Only the exact phrase. "Sweet Lady". It's enlightening.

There are 23 instances in all 5 books, the TWOW sample chapters and all the other searchable publications. They appear as follows:

Sansa: 9 (3 x Joffrey, 1 x Ser Loras, 4 x  Dontos ("Florian"), 1 x Marillion)

Catelyn: 5 times (3 x Varys, 2 x Petyr Baelish)

Jonquil: 1 (Florian the Fool, "The Hedge Knight")

Lysa: 2 (1 x Morton Waynwood, 1 x Marillion)

Shae: 2 (1 x Varys, 1 x Symon Silver Tongue, ironic)

A mare: 1 (Jon, soothing a mare, about to betray the Watch)

Daenerys: 1 (Hizdahr, her "loyal" husband)

Asha: 1 (Quarl the maid, murky lover)

Lady Taena Merryweather: 1 (sneaked in, traitorous lover to Cersei - Everything there a big spotlight for Political!Jon and such, btw.)

To make it short, the phrase is a direct reference to Sansa. 9 direct references, 10 if you account for the fact that Sansa = Jonquil. (22 Jonquil mentions in all searchable publications, only 5 are not in Sansa's chapters: Jaime referencing the song or the puppetry in The Hedge Knight. Sansa is Jonquil. Case closed.) The rest of the usage concerns foils, mirrors or other characters deeply connected to her. It's a spotlight for Sansa.

In most instances, it is a marker for erroneous or "false" knights (Dontos, Florian, Loras, Waynwood), or "false" Ladies (Shae,Taena Merryweather, Alayne), immoral singers (Symon, Marillion), rape (Marillion), Rescue (Sansa/Alayne and Tanselle), political scheming (Cat, Varys, Littlefinger, Lady Merryweather and Cersei) and betrayal (ALL of them, save the true Florian and Jonquil). Also, curiously, the injury of hands. (Symon, Marillion, Catelyn, Jon, Tanselle the Jonquil puppeteer).

So now that we do know that when the phrase shows up, it's a marker for Sansa and that what surrounds it concerns Sansa, let's look at when it's used to see if we recognize anything or if it reminds us of anything. (This is where the rabbit hole comes in because there's a jumping off point for more references in almost every example.

 First Mention: Sansa I, AGOT

“Leave her alone,” Joffrey said. He stood over her, beautiful in blue wool and black leather, his golden curls shining in the sun like a crown. He gave her his hand, drew her to her feet. “What is it, sweet lady? Why are you afraid? No one will hurt you. Put away your swords, all of you. The wolf is her little pet (!), that’s all.” He looked at Sandor Clegane. “And you, dog, away with you, you’re scaring my betrothed.”

The Hound, ever faithful, bowed and slid away quietly through the press. Sansa struggled to steady herself. She felt like such a fool. She was a Stark of Winterfell, a noble lady, and someday she would be a queen. “It was not him, my sweet prince,” she tried to explain. “It was the other one.”

The two stranger knights exchanged a look. “Payne?” chuckled the young man in the green armor. The older man in white spoke to Sansa gently. “Ofttimes Ser Ilyn frightens me as well, sweet lady. He has a fearsome aspect.”

Payne, the mute. Who else is mute? Ghost. A fearsome wolf pet. Where have we heard the word "pet" before… Oh, Right. ASOS.

“The good woman at the brazier,” Mance Rayder went on, “is Dalla.” The pregnant woman smiled shyly. “Treat her like you would any queen, she is carrying my child.” He turned to the last two. “This beauty is her sister Val. Young Jarl beside her is her latest pet.”

“I am no man’s pet,” said Jarl, dark and fierce.

“And Val’s no man,” white-bearded Tormund snorted. “You ought to have noticed that by now, lad.”

Aaaand...

Jarl was with the Magnar; Mance had given them the joint command. Styr was none too pleased by that, Jon had noted early on. Mance Rayder had called the dark youth a “pet” of Val, who was sister to Dalla, his own queen, which made Jarl a sort of good brother once removed to the King-beyond-the-Wall.

 And isn't that some precious phrasing. A "good brother" once, removed.

Contrast Dany, ADWD:

“What, o’ the queen’s little pets?” Brown Ben’s eyes crinkled in amusement. The grizzled captain of the Second Sons was a creature of the free companies, a mongrel with the blood of a dozen different peoples flowing through his veins, but he had always been fond of the dragons, and them of him.

“Pets?” screeched Reznak. “Monsters, rather. Monsters that feed on children. We cannot —”

“Silence,” said Daenerys. “We will not speak of that.”

So the Sweet Lady will have a pet wolf, literally and figuratively. *wink*

But on to other "Sweet Lady" instances. Two involving Catelyn:

AGOT, Catelyn:

“How could you know all that?”

“The whisperings of little birds,” Varys said, smiling. “I know things, sweet lady. That is the nature of my service.” He shrugged. “You do have the dagger with you, yes?”

Catelyn pulled it out from beneath her cloak and threw it down on the table in front of him. “Here. Perhaps your little birds will whisper the name of the man it belongs to.”

AGOT, Eddard:

Littlefinger smiled. “Leave Lord Varys to me, sweet lady. If you will permit me a small obscenity—and where better for it than here—I hold the man’s balls in the palm of my hand.” He cupped his fingers, smiling. “Or would, if he were a man, or had any balls. You see, if the pie is opened, the birds begin to sing, and Varys would not like that. Were I you, I would worry more about the Lannisters and less about the eunuch.”

We know who the Little Bird is (Sansa), so here we know our Sweet Lady will spill important Secrets to the vast dismay of some people.

Now for some sweetness in AGOT. Jon's foils Loras and Joffrey lay it on thick:

To the other maidens he had given white roses, but the one he plucked for her was red. “Sweet lady,” he said, “no victory is half so beautiful as you.” Sansa took the flower timidly, struck dumb by his gallantry. His hair was a mass of lazy brown curls, his eyes like liquid gold. She inhaled the sweet fragrance of the rose and sat clutching it long after Ser Loras had ridden off.

Awww. So sweet, so fake.

 Instead Joffrey smiled and kissed her hand, handsome and gallant as any prince in the songs, and said, “Ser Loras has a keen eye for beauty, sweet lady.”

Actually, we know Jon IS a visual creature. (Natural landscapes, handsome Kingslayers, Radiant Sisters, lovely Val, etc etc etc.) But we digress.

The mare whickered softly as Jon Snow tightened the cinch. “Easy, sweet lady,” he said in a soft voice, quieting her with a touch. Wind whispered through the stable, a cold dead breath on his face, but Jon paid it no mind. He strapped his roll to the saddle, his scarred fingers stiff and clumsy. “Ghost,” he called softly, “to me.” And the wolf was there, eyes like embers.

Jon is probably the only one outside of Florian the actual puppet fool to use the phrase honestly. Jon of the fool references is Florian to Sansa's Jonquil. Brienne is the True Knight she prays for, the Galladon, but Jon is the Florian, the fool knight. Also, "The wolf was there." Jon and Ghost will be a calming, gentle, protective presence in Sansa's life. Also "mare" is an occasional marker for Sansa.

Now for something else:

ACOK, Tyrion:

Varys glanced at Shae. “My lord, must we trouble your sweet lady’s sleep with such grim and bloody talk?”

“A lady might be afraid,” said Shae, “but I’m not.”

(ASOS, Tyrion:)

“You shall rise again, I am sure. A man like you. My sweet lady Shae tells me you are newly wed. Would that you had sent for me earlier. I should have been honored to sing at your feast.”

“The last thing my wife needs is more songs,” said Tyrion. “As for Shae, we both know she is no lady, and I would thank you never to speak her name aloud.”

Which all seems to lead to:

(AFFC, Alayne)

Up here where the slope was steepest, the steps wound back and forth rather than plunging straight down. Sansa Stark went up the mountain, but Alayne Stone is coming down. It was a strange thought. Coming up, Mya had warned her to keep her eyes on the path ahead, she remembered. “Look up, not down,” she said … but that was not possible on the descent. I could close my eyes. The mule knows the way, he has no need of me. But that seemed more something Sansa would have done, that frightened girl. Alayne was an older woman, and bastard brave.

and...

“Unhand me. You forget yourself.”

“Mercy. I have been singing love songs for hours. My blood is stirred. And yours, I know … there’s no wench half so lusty as one bastard born. Are you wet for me?”

“I’m a maiden,” she protested.

“Truly? Oh, Alayne, Alayne, my fair maid, give me the gift of your innocence. You will thank the gods you did. I’ll have you singing louder than the Lady Lysa.”

Sansa jerked away from him, frightened. “If you don’t leave me, my au—my father will hang you. Lord Petyr.”

“Littlefinger?” He chuckled. “Lady Lysa loves me well, and I am Lord Robert’s favorite. If your father offends me, I will destroy him with a verse.” He put a hand on her breast, and squeezed. “Let’s get you out of these wet clothes. You wouldn’t want them ripped, I know. Come, sweet lady, heed your heart—”

Sansa heard the soft sound of steel on leather. “Singer,” a rough voice said, “best go, if you want to sing again.” The light was dim, but she saw a faint glimmer of a blade.

The singer saw it too. “Find your own wench—” The knife flashed, and he cried out. “You cut me!”

“I’ll do worse, if you don’t go.” And quick as that, Marillion was gone.

There's a lot in this. There is yet another averted rape attempt, complete with rescue by a knight. (Lothor Brune.) Then, we have the implication that Sansa's virtue will be compromised ("Truly?" - Potentially by something horrible like on the show. The TWOW "Mercy" sample chapter is one big red flag.) and then we have the foreshadowing of Sansa losing her "innocence" by becoming a bad singer, a liar like Lysa, as we know she will when she lies about her death, or by "singing" loudly of secrets. Songs have the power to preserve and destroy, we learn, and Sansa will have to learn to weild that power benevolently. The fact that she is saved here, tells us that she will be "saved" from moral failure, as well.

Randomly, Marillion's Trial in AFFC:

“If I had eyes I should weep.” The singer’s voice, so strong and sure by night, was cracked and whispery now. “I loved her so, I could not bear to see her in another’s arms, to know she shared his bed. I meant no harm to my sweet lady, I swear it. I barred the door so no one could disturb us whilst I declared my passion, but Lady Lysa was so cold … when she told that she was carrying Lord Petyr’s child, a … a madness seized me …”

It may mean something, or it may not. But Sansa has a lot of bastard foreshadowing. Other characters have "madness" foreshadowing. And a history of miscarriages.

For something darker:

ADWD, The Wayward Bride (Asha)

A shy smile, strong arms, clever fingers, and two sure swords. What more could any woman want? She would have married Qarl, and gladly, but she was Lord Balon’s daughter and he was common-born, the grandson of a thrall. Too lowborn for me to wed, but not too low for me to suck his cock. Drunk, smiling, she crawled beneath the furs and took him in her mouth. Qarl stirred in his sleep, and after a moment he began to stiffen. By the time she had him hard again, he was awake and she was wet. Asha draped the furs across her bare shoulders and mounted him, drawing him so deep inside her that she could not tell who had the cock and who the cunt. This time the two of them reached their peak together.

“My sweet lady,” he murmured after, in a voice still thick with sleep. “My sweet queen.”

No, Asha thought, I am no queen, nor shall I ever be. “Go back to sleep.” She kissed his cheek, padded across Galbart Glover’s bedchamber, and threw the shutters open. The moon was almost full, the night so clear that she could see the mountains, their peaks crowned with snow. Cold and bleak and inhospitable, but beautiful in the moonlight.

Their summits glimmered pale and jagged as a row of sharpened teeth. The foothills and the smaller peaks were lost in shadow.

 At first glance this could be sweet-ish, but the surrounding imagery is kind of sinister and I get reminded of two other things:

Lysa describing her rape of Petyr (Sansa, ASOS):

...and Petyr tried to kiss your mother, only she pushed him away. She laughed at him. He looked so wounded I thought my heart would burst, and afterward he drank until he passed out at the table. (…) That was the night I stole up to his bed to give him comfort. I bled, but it was the sweetest hurt. He told me he loved me then, but he called me Cat, just before he fell back to sleep. Even so, I stayed with him until the sky began to lighten.

And Cersei's wedding night with Robert, (Eddard, AGOT)

Her eyes burned, green fire in the dusk, like the lioness that was her sigil. “The night of our wedding feast, the first time we shared a bed, he called me by your sister’s name. He was on top of me, in me, stinking of wine, and he whispered Lyanna.”

We already had a moment of deeply screwed up consent for Jon during his first time with Ygritte. Suddenly, the scene when Dany asks Jon if he's drunk on the show in 8x04 after the victory feast and then pushes him for sex seems even more sinister. Lysa's rape of Petyr ended in pregnancy. I hope I am wrong about this!

Lastly, this is from The Hedge Knight. "Florian and Jonquil" are being destroyed, i.e. Sansa's very favorite song is getting viciously attacked, her romantic dreams put to the torch. If my horrible suspicion is true, Sansa will live some aspect of her Ramsey storyline, if not with Ramsey, then with someone else. This following Scene festuring Duncan the fake knight and Tanselle, the tall girl playing Jonquil's puppet, however, is very reminiscent of Jon's final encounter with Ramsey. No?

The puppeteer's stall had been knocked on its side. The fat Dornishwoman was on the ground weeping.

One man-at-arms was dangling the puppets of Florian and Jonquil from his hands as another set them afire with a torch. Three more men were opening chests, spilling more puppets on the ground and stamping on them. The dragon puppet was scattered all about them, a broken wing here, its head there, its tail in three pieces. And in the midst of it all stood Prince Aerion, resplendent in a red velvet doublet with long dagged sleeves, twisting Tanselle's arm in both hands. She was on her knees, pleading with him. Aerion ignored her. He forced open her hand and seized one of her fingers. Dunk stood there stupidly, not quite believing what he saw. Then he heard a crack, and Tanselle screamed.

One of Aerion's men tried to grab him, and went flying. Three long strides, then Dunk grabbed the prince's shoulder and wrenched him around hard. His sword and dagger were forgotten, along with everything the old man had ever taught him. His fist knocked Aerion off his feet, and the toe of his boot slammed into the prince's belly. When Aerion went for his knife, Dunk stepped on his wrist and then kicked him again, right in the mouth. He might have kicked him to death right then and there, but the princeling's men swarmed over him.

 So the wolf pet/lover will curbstomp her attacker in some way shape or form.

 Damn. To cheer us, let's look at some Dontos/Florian from ACOK, Sansa:

“I will,” she said. “Tell me who sent you.”

“No one, sweet lady. I swear it on my honor as a knight.”

“A knight?” Joffrey had decreed that he was to be a knight no longer, only a fool, lower even than Moon Boy. “I prayed to the gods for a knight to come save me,” she said. “I prayed and prayed. Why would they send me a drunken old fool?”

“I deserve that, though . . . I know it’s queer, but . . . all those years I was a knight, I was truly a fool, and now that I am a fool I think . . . I think I may find it in me to be a knight again, sweet lady. And all because of you . . . your grace, your courage. You saved me, not only from Joffrey, but from myself.” His voice dropped. “The singers say there was another fool once who was the greatest knight of all . . .”

“Florian,” Sansa whispered. A shiver went through her.

“Sweet lady, I would be your Florian,” Dontos said humbly, falling to his knees before her.

Slowly, Sansa lowered the knife. Her head seemed terribly light, as if she were floating. This is madness, to trust myself to this drunkard, but if I turn away will the chance ever come again? “How . . . how would you do it? Get me away?”

Ser Dontos raised his face to her. “Taking you from the castle, that will be the hardest. Once you’re out, there are ships that would take you home. I’d need to find the coin and make the arrangements, that’s all.”

“Could we go now?” she asked, hardly daring to hope.

“This very night? No, my lady, I fear not. First I must find a sure way to get you from the castle when the hour is ripe. It will not be easy, nor quick. They watch me as well.” He licked his lips nervously. “Will you put away your blade?”

Sansa slipped the knife beneath her cloak. “Rise, ser.”

“Thank you, sweet lady.” Ser Dontos lurched clumsily to his feet, and brushed earth and leaves from his knees. “Your lord father was as true a man as the realm has ever known, but I stood by and let them slay him. I said nothing, did nothing . . . and yet, when Joffrey would have slain me, you spoke up. Lady, I have never been a hero, no Ryam Redwyne or Barristan the Bold. I’ve won no tourneys, no renown in war . . . but I was a knight once, and you have helped me remember what that meant. My life is a poor thing, but it is yours.” Ser Dontos placed a hand on the gnarled bole of the heart tree. He was shaking, she saw. “I vow, with your father’s gods as witness, that I shall send you home.”

He swore. A solemn oath, before the gods. “Then . . . I will put myself in your hands, ser. But how will I know, when it is time to go? Will you send me another note?”

Ser Dontos glanced about anxiously. “The risk is too great. You must come here, to the godswood. As often as you can. This is the safest place. The only safe place. Nowhere else. Not in your chambers nor mine nor on the steps nor in the yard, even if it seems we are alone. The stones have ears in the Red Keep, and only here may we talk freely.”

“Only here,” Sansa said. “I’ll remember.”

“And if I should seem cruel or mocking or indifferent when men are watching, forgive me, child. I have a role to play, and you must do the same. One misstep and our heads will adorn the walls as did your father’s.”

She nodded. “I understand.”

“You will need to be brave and strong . . . and patient, patient above all.”

“I will be,” she promised, “but . . . please . . . make it as soon as you can. I’m afraid . . .”

“So am I,” Ser Dontos said, smiling wanly. “And now you must go, before you are missed.”

“You will not come with me?”

“Better if we are never seen together.”

Nodding, Sansa took a step . . . then spun back, nervous, and softly laid a kiss on his cheek, her eyes closed. “My Florian,” she whispered. “The gods heard my prayer.”

And just to add some sweet speculation…

Jon, ASOS:

If I could show her Winterfell … give her a flower from the glass gardens, feast her in the Great Hall, and show her the stone kings on their thrones. We could bathe in the hot pools, and love beneath the heart tree while the old gods watched over us.

I'm such a hopeful fool for these two.

[hellsbellschime]

How is it "shipping it adult Sansa with Sandor" when shippers' favorite comebacks to their critics "our ship is canon 💅 eat that!"? If they were shipping it with adult Sansa it would mean they're just like any other shippers writing their various AUs, no one would mind them then, see how no one cares about Stannis/Sansa, Tywin/Sansa, Willas/Sansa etc. We couldn't care less what people do with their creative work.

But canon is where 28 yo Sandor commented on 11 yo Sansa's developing breasts, canon is where he harassed her, where he was verbally, emotionally and physically abusive towards her. Every word out of his mouth was condescending to her. Canon is where he tried/wanted to rape her when she was 12. Oh wait, they don't think when this grown ass man waits in this girl's bedroom while drunk, pushes the girl on the bed and put a knife to her throat is a rape attempt. Just like they don't accept him saying to Arya "I should have fucked her bloody and ripped her heart out before leaving her for that dwarf" as confession. (Yes he was goading Arya. But 2 things show his mindset: First, he could've just say "I should've killed her, kidnapped her" literally anything else but his mind went straight to rape b/c that was his intention. Second, he regrets Tyrion "gets to have her" and not him. Pleasee...)

No, whoever it is they are lying. Do they think we forget their wonderful interpretations of the text? How they think her throat being dry and tight is a symbol for her not being ready for sex but she will be later winkwink? How they call her nightmare in ASOS, a nightmare triggered by Marillion's rape attempt, a rape attempt that once again includes a drunk men using songs as metaphors for sex (or in her case rape), a sex dream? How they call unkiss "sansa desiring/fantasizing about sandor"? When we all know unkiss is another manifestation of her classic trauma response. She rewrites her memories to make things more bearable. Just like she did it with Joffrey and Arya b/c she was still supposed to marry him and Arya being the guilty one is more bearable than her future husband being a sadistic asshole She separates Petyr the man who "saves" and protects her from the Littlefinger the man who molests her in her mind. She prefers a man who beats her, Ser Arys, to all the other men who beat her b/c he beats her less hard and talks to her cordially. That's Sansa, she paints things more favorably in order to deal with them. Is it any wonder she turned sandor's attack into a song of a knight stealing a kiss from a maiden rather than admitting a man who protected her occasionally also assaulted her? Just like all the other men who protected and/or tried to save had also ulterior motives: Dontos, Littlefinger, Tyrion, Sandor all the same. She was terrified that he'll kiss her and he'll kill her that night, it is literally on the page since she's the pov character not that brute. But she changes the memory to make it more bearable. Still her subconscious reveals how she really feels in her nightmare. Yet according to them all these are proof their relationship is canon and will be endgame.

They only started with this "we only ship adult Sansa" lie when new generation of fans came along and said what the fuck. Back then, Sansa is so universally hated that nobody cared. Everybody was expecting for her to die anyway. So what if she ends up with one of her abusers, it'd just mean she's not around anymore, yay. The only ones they occasionally clashed with were sanrions. It is funny how they (now with LF stans too) keep accusing the other's fave being a pedo/molester/groomer and unfit suitor for Sansa but are totally blind to their own fave. Then due to show, series became more popular, Sansa fandom started to grow, and new Sansa fans along with general fandom told them "you can't read and you're all the same all of you are gross lmao insert that spider-man meme", suddenly "oh no we don't ship them at their current ages." Girl GTFO, you fool no one with that shit when y'all continue to 1) deny Sandor being a pedo and her abuser IN CANON 2) claim sansan is canon.

Jesus Christ this was a journey, but to be clear I do not ship Sansan and I generally avoid it as much as possible, so frankly I have no idea what it’s shippers think or what they like or don’t like or what they find acceptable or unacceptable. Also damn you straight to hell for informing me that Tywin/Sansa is actually a thing, good god that is not an image I want in my brain. 

[thelyingspectre]

Meeting Marillion

“No!” The girl announced, as Ladybird stopped. If this wasn’t Hawkmoth, then who were they and why did they make another villain?

“I’m Marillion, the new butterfly! And there isn’t any need for us to fight!” She declared which confused her. She made a villain that almost killed people and caused untold amounts of destruction, of course there was a need to fight! She then watched stunned as Stoneheart was about to continue climbing, only for Marillion to hit his head with her cane, as he suddenly put up an apologetic smile.

“Ugh, fine. She's right. This is all a misunderstanding because she had to detransform and didn’t tell me what to do.” He said with a whine, causing her to hit him on the head again, which shocked everyone. It would have been hilarious if not for the fact that it was from a villain. Thankfully, Chat seemed to be stunned out of his silence first.

“Well that misunderstanding almost got an innocent girl killed!” Chat yelled at her, as Ladybird nodded her agreement, trying to get over the slapstick scene she just watched. She saw as the villainess rolled her eyes before responding.

“He misunderstood me and he's sorry! Also, this is my first time using my powers, and we all know what happened the first time you used your powers!” Marillion screamed back. That was it for Ladybird, as she pushed Chat Noir out of the way and responded back in this crazy screaming match.

“Oh don’t give us that misunderstanding talk, it's clear to everyone that you’re the real threat!” She responded, as Chat Noir got back up and stood behind her.

“I’m The Threat?” She responded, as her expression shifted to anger. Marillion then jumped up to the top of the Eiffel Tower before she flipped her cane. From it, came a swarm of lilac butterflies that swarmed around her before shaping into two arrows pointing to her. Ladybird probably assumed that this was to get attention as Marillion began speaking.

“People of Paris! The incompetence of these heroes has caused you all to suffer! But no more! I promise to all of you that I do not mean any harm anyone! I just wish to help everyone be able to work through your emotions! I won’t let these two harm the people they say that they care for!

Marillion turned to glare at Chat as she continued her speech. “Did you think I would forget how you tried to cataclysm Ivan yesterday? Paris needs a hero that would focus on helping other people at the expense of themselves! And I, Marillion, will be that hero!”

Marillion finally lowered her gaze onto Ladybird as she finished her speech. “And I will take your miraculous! I will not let you incompetent heroes harm the people any more!” Marillion said as she swung her cane and the butterflies flew back into it. 

Marillion loooked upon them with a protective fury that stole her breath away. She looked beautiful as she stood on the tower. Ladybirds chest was beating, and she thought that the only person who was more beautiful than Marillion at that moment was Marine-.

Ladybird decided to end those thoughts before they could continue building up. She did not have a crush on the villainess, absolutely not. Resolute, she swung her yoyo up to meet Marillion head on.

[princess-of-the-corner]

How Butterflynette got her name:

“My name is Mari- wait,Ishouldn’tusemyrealname, Papillon!” She said with excitement, as Ivan got confused at her muttering near the middle and said what he thought was her name.

“Mari-Papillon?” 

“Wait no thats not right!”

“MariPillon?”

“Wait no come on!”

“Marillion!” Ivan said as he got what she was trying to say, as she saw the girl roll her eyes.

“Well dammit, there goes my great enterance, but that names not bad.” She said before starting to speak to Ivan, her hands resting somewhere he couldn’t see. 

Yes this joke was taken from the person who wrote the original Au and who I was inspired by.

RIP

[miracul0us-multishipper]

Of heroes and villains

I spend almost the entire holidays working on this comic, but now it’s finally finished. The downside: it’s 22 pics long and I can only fit 10 in one post, so I gotta put the rest in the reblogs.

[thevalleyarchive]

A Warm Embrace

Beaujester AU where Jester is a crime princess raised by the Gentleman and Beau wasn’t sent to the Cobalt Soul - her family just kicked her out. Beau has nowhere to go - but she does have a certain set of skills.

           The door slammed in Beau’s face with all the force and finality of the lid of a coffin. There had never been much warmth for her in her father’s house, but it was only now that that door had shut that Beau realized just how cold the rainy Kamordah evening was. She stood for another long moment on the porch, shivering, as her father’s last words rang through her entire being. Then she turned and walked into the drizzle, away from the house that was no longer her home. Had never been her home. The rain pelted her, rivulets of clear liquid running down face. It was only rain that ran down her face. She wiped it away, but the rain kept coming, and it was hard to see through all the water in her eyes.

           She only paused for a moment between the door of the house and the gate of the Lionett estate as she made her departure. Her father may have caught her in the act of selling his wine illegally, but he hadn’t asked her where she kept her stash. She flipped over a large rock along the path and retrieved four bottles of his finest, most valued stock. At least this way he’d be losing something he cared about. With the bottles safely secured in her rucksack, she finished her exit. The guards at the gate were stone-faced as she passed. She couldn’t see their faces, but she knew. She knew that there was definitely no pity. Beau hated pity. She didn’t need it. And she didn’t look at their faces.

           The main road was mud, rapidly turning to a dirty soup, but Beau plowed through it as she made her way to the Dusty Lion inn. It wasn’t the largest bar in town, or the nicest or the cleanest or the safest. That’s why she did most of her business there. The kind of people who went to the Dusty Lion needed contacts, people who could get them cheap goods and services. People who didn’t or couldn’t care about how those things were acquired. Only the wicked and desperate called on that place. So Beau stepped beneath its cracked and greying sign and pushed through the mud-encrusted door.

           A wall of warmth greeted her, the warmth of a badly smoking fire and dozens of grubby bodies shoved together in close quarters. It was a warmth that grasped and pulled, that raked over her body like the shifty eyes of the strangers who turned to see who had arrived. No familiar faces. Beau’s heart sunk. With the weather so bad and the bar so unusually full, she’d been sure there would be someone there that she’d done business with before. She squared her shoulders and shoved through towards the bar. She’d make a new contact if she needed to, then. She was fucking personable. She sat down at the bar and caught the bartender’s eye. “Whisky,” she said, in what she hoped was a friendly and casual tone. The small man’s eyes widened in fear and he hurried to pour her a drink. Fuck.

           Beau downed the whiskey in one swallow and shuddered as it burned down her throat. She glanced at the bartender, who was still looking at her nervously. Fuck it. “More,” she barked at him, and turned to take a closer look at the crowd as he hastened to fill her glass. Lots of out of towners, a few local crooks, that wasn’t surprising. A few lawful citizens of Kamordah – that was surprising. Beau guessed the rain must’ve overridden their concern about rubbing shoulders with lowlifes like her. Still no one she knew she could sell to. She raised her newly filled whiskey to her lips to take a drink, then paused as the opening door caught her attention. A hooded figure in a green cloak stepped in from the rain, followed by much shorter figure in a grey cloak. Beau cocked her head. It almost looked like the taller figure had blue skin. Who fucking has blue skin?

           As Beau looked on, her suspicion was confirmed – and then some – as the figure pushed back her hood, revealing a young tiefling woman – with blue skin yes, but also blue hair, and eyes that lay somewhere between blue and violet. Her face was wide, with high cheekbones, a mouth that seemed almost permanently upturned into a smile, and a splash of freckles across her cheeks. She looked altogether too sweet and innocent for a place like this. On another night, maybe Beau would walk up and introduce herself with a wink and a smirk, but that kind of thought couldn’t be farther from her mind right now. She downed her drink and turned her attention to the shorter figure. A halfling, by the look of him, with dark hair. Not someone she knew, but he did appear to have a pretty good collection of tattoos, and that was just what she could see while he was cloaked. Maybe a good person to try. Beau was just considering her approach when there was loud bang, and all the windows in the bar flew open.

           The room was immediately thrown into darkness as the bitter wind rushed into the bar, carrying with it the chill and wet of the world outside. A cacophony of disgruntled swearing rose up from the patrons and joined the whistling howl of the wind swirling through the air. It was in turn joined by another sound, a sound like high sweet laughter, a laugh of giddy joy and simple delight. The fuck? Beau looked around for its source, but the bar was dark, and she couldn’t see a damn thing. Stupid fucking human eyes. Then, with another cacophonous crash, the windows slammed shut, and it was quiet again. Beau turned back towards the bar, and saw the bartender about to hurry off, carrying oil and flint to relight the room. “Hey hey hey,” Beau barked at him, locking eyes on him and pointing at her empty glass. “More.” He paused, looking at her with something nasty in his eyes, but she stared him down. Fucking try me tonight. Her thought must’ve shown on her face, because he scowled at her before quickly pouring her a drink and hurrying away. “Thank you!” Beau called after him, a sharp smile on her face.

           As she sipped her drink and the light creeped back into the room, Beau gave a quick glance around, looking for that halfling again. Her search ended rapidly, though, when her eyes caught on a familiar figure, sitting alone at a table in the corner. She must’ve missed him in the bustle earlier, but now that the weirdness with the windows had drawn the crowd in closer to the bar, Beau had a clear line of sight to the blond human man. His name was Marillius, and he was a wine seller that operated out of Rexxentrum. She and Tori had done business with him a few times – he was always delighted to buy fine Lionett wine at such a ridiculously low price. She hadn’t seen him since she and Tori had been caught, though. Hopefully that wouldn’t spook him. Beau waited. After a few seconds, Marillius looked up from his plate and saw her looking at him. Beau raised her glass to him with the same sharp smile still on her face, and flicked her head towards the empty barstool next to her. Marillius narrowed his eyes, then stood, smoothing his clothes, and carefully made his way to the bar.

“Marillius! How you been, man?” called Beau as he approached.

“Wet,” said Marillius dryly as he took the seat next to her. He smelled of grapes and perfume. Beau wrinkled her nose. “Do you have something for me?” he asked. His eyes narrowed even further. “Where is your friend?”

Beau took a drink. Her smile stayed fixed and her eyes stayed hard. “As to the second question, you’d know better than me. Isn’t Rexxentrum where the nearest prison is?” She paused for a moment to give him a chance to express insincere sympathies.

Marillius said nothing.

Beau continued, “As to the first question, what I have for you here are four bottles of the finest Lionett reserves.” That got his attention.

“You have these bottles with you, I take it?” said Marillius, looking at Beau shrewdly.

Beau unslung her rucksack and removed one bottle and handed it to him to inspect. The red wine within sloshed slightly. “Give it a look, but be careful with it. That’s liquid gold you’re holding.”

Marillius gave it a long, careful look, swirling it gently as he did. “Yes, I daresay it is,” he said finally, setting the bottle down carefully. “Will you be wanting the usual price for it, then?”

“That, and one other thing,” said Beau, leaning forward. “I want a job. I want you to take me with you to Rexxentrum.”

The words hung in the air for a long minute as Marillius looked at her with undisguised incredulity and suspicion. “Why on earth would you want to work for me in Rexxentrum?” he asked, with a tone that made Beau grind her teeth. “You have a very lucrative operation going here.”

“Not anymore.” Beau leaned back and downed the last of her drink. “Dad kicked me out. Cut me off. These bottles are the last of it.”

“I see.” Marillion’s eyes bored into her. “Then why on earth would I want to take you with me?”

“What?” Beau furrowed her brow, confused. And maybe, she realized, a little bit drunk. “I’m a fucking phenomenal fence. Or smuggler. Or whatever. I get you good fucking things at a good fucking price.”

“Here, maybe. But you’re a little girl stealing from her daddy’s winery.” His mockery burrowed into her. “That’s a far sight different than being a reliable supplier or acquirer. You were a contact,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain, “And a contact without connections is of no value to me. I’ll buy those bottles from you – I’ll give you a few extra gold on each, even. But after that, I see no value in prolonging our association.” Marillion produced a purse from his belt and held it out towards Beau.

Blood pounded in her head. Beau looked from the bulging bag of coins to the smug, condescending face of the man holding it, and had to fight the urge to sink her fist into his stupid fucking nose. “Fuck you,” she spat.

“Hmph.” Marillion’s arm withdrew, and the bag of coins vanished. He stood and brushed off his clothes. “Good evening, Beauregard,” he said, and he walked away.

Beau turned to the bartender and shoved her empty glass toward him. “More!” she yelled, the words ripping at her throat. He filled the glass quickly, and just as quickly she emptied it. Her head spun, filled with whisky and rage and something sharper, some yawning oblivion of terror that threatened to swallow her. There was no way out. Who would take her with them? Marillion was right, she was just a spoiled brat playing at crime who’d gotten slapped on the wrist and run off crying. Who would want to hire someone so pathetic? She looked at the bottle of wine still resting on the bar top.

It’d have to be the wine, she realized. She hadn’t been exaggerating – the fine stock she’d taken was more than worth its weight in gold. If she sold it to a legitimate buyer, she could get much more money than Marillion had offered, more than enough to… to…

To what? To build a life? Doing what? Beau didn’t know. And what kind of life would that be, given to her by her dad’s wine money? Beau looked again at the bottle, and the hatred and indignation at that thought swelled up in her, more powerful than fear or anger or humiliation. She seized the bottle up and ripped the cork from its mouth. She raised it to her lips and poured, filling her mouth with liquid that was sweet and rich and dry and sour, pouring the entirety of it into herself, into the gaping maw in her chest to be destroyed. For a moment it felt like it would fill her, like the swirling, warm liquid pumping into her throat was about to coalesce into… something. And then it was empty, and she felt the last gulp in her mouth, red and warm as blood, and she swallowed, and the bottle crashed to the ground and shattered as her head swirled and swam. She leaned forward and felt something warm and wet running down her cheeks. Definitely wine.

A voice spoke up behind her and she jumped. It was a low voice, gruff and smooth and clever, nothing like her dad’s. She angrily wiped her eyes and turned to see the halfling man she’d noticed earlier, his hood down, his hair spiky and somewhat disheveled. Behind him, the tiefling girl leaned against the bar as the bartender searched under it for a bottle. For a moment, Beau thought she saw a paintbrush in the girl’s hand, but that was ridiculous. There was graffiti all over this place, and surely that dick drawing had always been there. And that caricature of the bartender. And that unicorn…?

“Well?” asked the halfling, and Beau snapped out of her trance.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” she asked, her voice thick.

“I said that I saw that man tried to cheat you on those wine bottles, and that I wanted to offer you a better price. You were smart not to take a deal that shitty,” said the man. “Though it wasn’t very smart to drink one of them.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” said Beau. “I’m just so fucking smart. What’s your name?”

“Thed,” said Thed. “And you can call her-“

“I’m the Sapphire!” said the tiefling brightly, stepping up next to Thed. She extended one hand towards Beau to shake. In her other hand she held a glass of milk.

Beau took her hand hesitantly. She had the odd urge to bow and kiss one of the gaudy rings the girl was wearing on her outstretched hand, but she gave it a firm shake instead. “Do they call you that because you’re pretty and blue?”

“That’s exactly why they call me that!” the Sapphire beamed.

Thed stepped between them, giving Beau a look that she’d probably recognize if she were less drunk, but that just seemed generically unpleasant right now. “About your wine-“

Beau interrupted him. “Where are you from, Thed?”

“A fence should know better than to ask those kinds of questions,” Thed said with a hint of warning.

“But are you from a big city?” asked Beau. Her words were beginning to slur a bit.

“One of the biggest,” Thed responded. “Why?”

Beau looked at him as steadily as she could manage. “You can have the bottles, free of charge. A gift for you, or your boss, if you have one. But I want you to take me with you. And I want a job.”

Thed looked taken aback. “You don’t even know what we do.”

“Doesn’t matter to me,” said Beau, “I just want out of this stupid fucking town. And besides, you want someone like me working for you.” Marillion’s stupid, condescending face swam in front of her vision. “I’m fucking good at finding things. Getting people things they want.”

Thed looked at Beau closely, sizing her up. “I don’t make the decisions about who works with me,” he said after a long moment, “But if you’re serious, I’ll take you to my boss, and see what he thinks. I can’t promise more than that.”

“Don’t worry though!” said the Sapphire excitedly. “He’s going to love you. Like, I just met you, and you already seem so cool.”

Beau smiled. With relief, with satisfaction, at the ridiculousness of the girl standing in front of her. “Thanks, Sapphire.”

“Well of course!” said the Sapphire. “What’s your name?” she asked.

“Beau.”

“It’s nice to meet you Beau,” said the Sapphire. “Do you have a place to stay for the night? Because we have two rooms! You can stay with Thed, he won’t mind!”

Thed’s face seemed to fill with exhaustion as he heard this. “No, I won’t mind at all,” he said with just a hint of exasperation.

Beau thought for a moment. Her impulse was to say no, to sleep out in the mud and the rain, but the Sapphire had offered so sweetly, and Thed so clearly hated the idea, that Beau found herself saying the words, “That sounds great.”

“Great!” said the Sapphire, and she and Thed stepped away from the bar, towards the stairs. Beau made to follow them, but she was stopped by the sound of the bartender clearing his throat.

Beau turned back towards him. He held out a hand. “If you’re done for the night, pay up,” he said.

Beau reached for her purse. She’d taken a few gold from the house when her dad kicked her out. As her fingers followed her purse strings, though, they grasped on empty air. Her purse had been cut.

She was fumbling for an excuse, when the voice of the Sapphire cut through her fog. “Don’t worry, we’ll cover her,” the Sapphire said to the bartender.

Thed let out a grunt of annoyance. “Sapphire, we don’t need to pay for this tagalong! We’re already giving her a free place to sleep for the night!”

The Sapphire gave him a look of reproach. “We can pay for four whiskeys, Thed,” she said. “What can that cost? 5 platinum?” And to Beau’s astonishment, the Sapphire produced five shining platinum coins from somewhere beneath her cloak and pressed them into the bartender’s fingers, which had gone limp in astonishment.

The Sapphire gave Beau a smile, so filled with warmth Beau almost wanted to cry. “Come on upstairs!” And with that, the Sapphire flounced away, up the stairs and out of sight. Beau and Thed followed. They arrived on a landing and stopped walking at the doors to two adjacent rooms. The Sapphire vanished into one of them, poking her head out just long enough to shout “Goodnight!” before slamming the door. Thed turned to Beau and awkwardly gestured her into the other one. Beau entered, and Thed followed behind, closing the door. He turned towards her.

“Before you head off to your beauty sleep, and to the monster of a hangover waiting for you in the morning, I’ll take those bottles,” he said, extending a hand.

Beau unslung her rucksack and passed it over to him. “Take care of those,” she warned, her head swimming as she collapsed down onto the bed. “Those are for your boss. I want to make a good impression.”

Thed chuckled. “I wouldn’t worry too much about that,” he said. “The boss prefers to work with a certain kind of person. He’ll be happy to see that you’ve brought many gifts.”

I’ll be posting this to AO3 as soon as I get an account, and I plan to update weekly. Check back for a link in a few days, or follow my blog and I’ll make a post about it.

UPDATE: Link now posted on my blog, in my blog description, and in a comment on this post!

[iggsdoesaword]

Wow, I’m making use of this blog! So what if Papyrus had a goth/emo/scene phase?? What type of alternative person would he be? I have brainstormed this and I’m currently working on a drabble for it. It started as a headcanon fic but now I think it has grown into a childhood AU...so I have taken full advantage of this fact and included Chara, Kris and Asriel. Also Gaster is alive and trying to raise his sons. Oop.

Ages:

Sans: 17

Kris: 16

Chara:14

Asriel:13

Papyrus:13

Frisk:10

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pap’s alternative phase:

-Scene style but without the hair

-racoon eyeliner

-loves paramour, P!atd, FOB, gun n roses, Magnum, Marillion, Jeferson airplane

- SO MANY wristbands!

-“UGH IT’S NOT A PHASE DAD, MY SOUL IS TORTURED BECAUSE OF THE ETERNAL DARKNESS CAUSED BY OUR UNJUST IMPRISONMENT”

-Gaster is at his wits end, why couldn’t he have just been a nerd like Sans? Why must he deal with this petulant teen

-Sans loves this, he thinks it’s hilarious that his usually sunshiney lil bro has decided to become a prince of darkness.

-was started off by finding an old rock magazine in the dump.

-He immediately went and found as mant CDs/cassete tapes with rock music as possible.

-Undyne is his biggest supporter, other than sans

-Asriel is his phase buddy, he leans more towards your typical emo style

-Sans and Kris think this is hilarious. This fluffy goat boi acting like a prince of darkness. They try and get Frisk in on the act much to the despair of their father’s.

[tinfoilvalentine]

Sci-marillion au concepts that make me go apeshit whenever I think about them

A force field around the planet of Doriath

Huan as a droid dog

The helcaraxe asteroid belt

The spaceships of the Teleri

War of wrath space battle

[blogapart3bis]

https://ift.tt/2KQo86l

J’ai hésité un moment, mais j’ai fini par me décider pour aller voir Zeal & Ardor aux Docks de Lausanne, avec Asbest en première partie.

J’avoue: « hésitation » peut aisément se traduire ici par « flemme ». Après avoir enchaîné trois concerts en octobre, j’étais moyen enthousiaste pour affronter le quasi-hiver lausannois. Mais bon: on parle quand même du groupe qui avait sorti l’album de l’année 2018, avec Stranger Fruit.

En plus, c’est un samedi, il ne pleut même pas et, même si je n’ai pas de passe photo cette fois-ci, j’arrive à court d’excuses.

Me revoici donc aux Docks, salle lausannoise sise dans une zone industrielle non loin du centre-ville. J’arrive tôt, la salle est quasiment vide, mais elle se remplit vite avant qu’Asbest n’investisse la scène.

Asbest (noise-rock, Suisse) en concert aux Docks de Lausanne, le 23 novembre 2019. Photo: Stéphane Gallay, sous licence Creative Commons (CC-BY)

Trio bâlois estampillé noise-rock, il se compose d’un batteur, d’une bassiste et d’une guitariste-chanteuse, ces deux dernières donnant l’impression d’être jumelles. Ils vont tenir la scène pendant environ quarante minutes.

Le noise-rock, c’est pas trop mon truc, mais Asbest propose des compositions qui flirtent avec le post-rock et des trucs un peu goth-dark à la Anne Clark dans le phrasé, ce qui fait que je ne me sens pas trop dépaysé. Pas mon truc, donc, mais sympa et plutôt dans l’ambiance.

Pendant le changement de scène, nous avons droit à un instrumental au piano qui fait patienter la foule, désormais compacte. Ça me rappelle un peu la tournée Brave, de Marillion, avec l’instrumental River de Michael Hunter.

Zeal & Ardor (gospel-metal, Suisse) en concert aux Docks de Lausanne, le 23 novembre 2019. Photo: Stéphane Gallay, sous licence Creative Commons (CC-BY)

Cinq silhouettes encapuchonnées se présentent alors sur une scène surplomblée par l’emblème du groupe: un guitariste, un bassiste, Manuel Gagneux, le chanteur-guitariste et deux autres chanteurs (le batteur est en retrait). Pour du metal, la configuration n’est pas banal. Mais Zeal & Ardor, ce n’est pas banal non plus.

En effet, le groupe mélange metal, blues et gospel sur fond de satanisme. Comme si les esclaves africains en Amérique s’étaient tournés vers les forces obscures.

Zeal & Ardor (gospel-metal, Suisse) en concert aux Docks de Lausanne, le 23 novembre 2019. Photo: Stéphane Gallay, sous licence Creative Commons (CC-BY)

En album, c’est plutôt bluffant. Je veux dire, je ne lui ai pas non plus donné le titre d’album de l’année par hasard. Mais j’avoue que j’appréhendais un peu l’épreuve du live.

Eh bien ça passe nickel! Le contrepoint blues-gospel vs metal-satanisme est d’autant plus marquant sur scène. Devant un public acquis à sa cause, Manuel Gagneux et son équipe vont dérouler leur musique sur un peu plus d’une heure, avec un rappel « if you don’t mind ».

Zeal & Ardor (gospel-metal, Suisse) en concert aux Docks de Lausanne, le 23 novembre 2019. Photo: Stéphane Gallay, sous licence Creative Commons (CC-BY)

C’est donc une alternance de passages calmes, à trois voix, et de déchaînements de brutalité. La setlist inclut des compositions des deux albums, Devil is Fine et Stranger Fruit, notamment les très emblématiques « Gravedigger’s Chat », « Row Row » et « Devil is Fine », avec ses sons de chaînes. Le light-show est classique, mais efficace, le son très clair et le public très enthousiaste.

Zeal & Ardor (gospel-metal, Suisse) en concert aux Docks de Lausanne, le 23 novembre 2019. Photo: Stéphane Gallay, sous licence Creative Commons (CC-BY)

Après un passage au merch, il est temps de reprendre le bus (plein de supporters bourrés), le train (plein d’étudiants bourrés), puis mon vélo (et slalomer entre les piétons bourrés) et rejoindre mes pénates campagnardes.

Seul bémol, de mon point de vue, j’ai dû me contenter de photos à l’iPhone, faute de passe photo. Du coup, ma traditionnelle galerie d’images est, disons, peu optimale.

L’article <span class='p-name'>Asbest / Zeal & Ardor à Lausanne</span> est apparu en premier sur Blog à part.

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