#most of chrome is just ao3

[girl-intrigued]

So guys you have to try this app !!

It's a Time wise app from play store and it shows all your data from this year and I've never been humbled so quick 😀

https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.veeraakurilil.timewise

[undertale-fic-librarby]

Do you have any anti harem fic recs?

Howdy, thanks for asking! Here are some fics that might fit what you're looking for!

A spider in a graveyard by Rubypasha (Explicit, Incomplete)

You've fought for years for people who hate and humiliate you, see you as more of a nuisance than a hero. A menace to society, just like your mentor. But you keep going, keep fighting. Keep pushing your limits to save innocent's who get tangled in the cruel web of life that you walk as a shadow. As someone who expects nothing but gives their all. But you keep going You'll deal with whatever and whoever threatens the lives and safety of innocents (both monsters and humans) because you are a spider. And spiders will never go down without a fight. Tired and injured you go to deal with one of your greatest enemies, a skeleton who like you loves puns but is dangerous. More so than anyone could ever imagine. But instead of wrapping the night up quickly like you want you're faced with something neither of you can understand. A machine that goes haywire leaving you injured and in the mercy of the two skeleton brother's and their clones But you won't back down. You will fight even if your hope isn't what it used to be. Maybe this 'other mansion' of skeletons will finally break the walls you were forced to put up in order to survive. Maybe, just maybe- You'll finally realise how amazing you are

Full Deck by Sons_of_Sirens (Teen And Up, Incomplete)

You’re just a shy young woman who works at a small bookstore in Ebott City, who has never attempted to climb out of her introverted shell before. Or maybe you’re a sassy young woman who lost her job after sticking up for monster rights in front of your racist boss. Or possibly you’re a traumatized young woman, with a painful past full of abuse and a broken body full of secret scars. You might even be an ordinary-looking young woman, who nevertheless possesses magical abilities and a SOUL far different from a regular human’s. But this is not a story about you. It's about ten skeletons in one tacky suburban McMansion, trying to live together without burning down their own house. It’s an unreasonable convergence of the Undertale AU gang as they go about their lives in a house full of volatile personalities, while trying not to get dragged into a reverse-harem trope. Alliances will be made, bake sales will be ruined and the HomeOwner's Association will be armed and dangerous.

I Like Me More by LambCHOWDER (Mature, Incomplete)

You love pancakes. They're so easy to make. Let's ignore the 7 monsters glaring at you and watching your every move. With obvious red flags, you choose to move in with your ex friend and her harem… for your own benefit, of course. Despite the situations that arise, you push through. Though it may be kind of worth it, you really didn’t expect all the secrets to come loose...

Bleeding Green [Rewrite] [On Hiatus] by pyromaniac_mage (Teen And Up, Incomplete)

[Y/N] [L/N] is a powerful mage with a bloodline well-known throughout the ages and her family have always been celebrated. They, however, despise how their bloodline trapped monsters beneath the ground. But, that is for another day. In not being able to afford basic accommodation for university, they had to rely on an old (and terrible) friend named Bethany. For some reason, most of Bethany's skeleton mates despise [Y/N] but why is that? Apart from the fact she is a mage? Just because she has a kindness soul, it doesn't mean she will stand for their bullshit.

Home for lost souls by SketchyDyslexic (Not Rated, Incomplete)

Sans was so in his head that the resets would start back again, he didn't want to even try. Papyrus put in work to convince Sans that he needed to come to the surface with him, and not continue staying in the underground. Sans agreed to pick out a home with his brother, and began packing his things. With only a week left, Sans decided to try pulling his older brother back with the machine one last time, only to have to watch it sputter and stop. Sans gave up and packed his stuff, ready and moving out to stay with undyne until their new home was bought. His life and a few others really went out of whack because of the machines malfunction, with his sudden influx of brothers and the soulmate bonds that were slowly making themselfs known. Even after settling the chaos, shit still hits the fan every time he gets done untangling one mess. And the woman that is helping his strange family isn't making anything easier by making things easier!

[honestlyvan]

The main feature apps like this offer are QOL improvements like different layouts, fonts, reading statistics and timers, and the aforementioned download features that are already a part of Ao3.

And if you want to use an app for those features -- honestly, I don't see why not? But be aware that Ao3 supports user-created skins that can look like literally anything you want (and although you do have to know enough CSS to make a theme yourself, lots of fans out there make AO3 skins just for fun -- you just gotta talk to one of them to ask how to make the changes you'd prefer and most likely they're happy to help out) and there are userscripts that act as site extensions that provide all those features and more (with, again, people actively developing them that you can ask help from to write your own if you don't like any of the ones available)

If you don't want the hassle of finding this stuff out or talking to people to ask for these features, you do you I guess. But don't ever pay money for one of these apps, no matter what it does. If it's showing you adds, if it's asking you to buy it, DO NOT, they're asking you to pay for features other fans have already provided for free through other methods.

WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS

WHO IS USING THIS

AN APP??? THEY HAVE A FUNCTIONING WEBSITE

THE LAST FUNCTIONING WEBSITE

[0sbrain]

here's a list of mozilla add-ons for all of you tumblrinas out there to have a better internet experience

also, if you like my post, please reblog it. Tumblr hates links but i had to put them so you adhd bitches actually download them <3 i know because i am also adhd bitches

BASIC STUFF:

AdGuard AdBlocker / uBlock Origin : adguard is a basic adblock and with origin you can also block any other element you want. for example i got rid of the shop menu on tumblr

Privacy Badger : this add on will block trackers. if an element contains a tracker it will give you the option to use it or not

Shinigami Eyes: this will highlight transphobic and trans friendly users and sites using different colors by using a moderated database. perfect to avoid terfs on any social media. i will explain how to use this and other add-ons on android as well under the read more cut

THINGS YOU TUMBLINAS WANT:

Xkit: the best tumblr related add on. with many customizable options, xkit not only enhances your experience from a visual standpoint, but provides some much needed accessibility tools

bonus: if you are into tf2 and wanna be a cool cat, you can also get the old version to add cool reblog icons

AO3 enhancer: some basic enhancements including reading time and the ability to block authors and tags

YOUTUBE

Return of the YouTube Dislike : pretty self explanatory

Youtube non-stop: gets rid of the annoying "Video paused. Continue watching?" popup when you have a video in the background

SponsorBlock: gives you options to skip either automatically or manually sponsors, videoclip non music sectors and discloses other type of sponsorships/paid partnerships

Enhancer for YouTube: adds some useful options such as custom play speed, let's you play videos in a window and most important of all, it allows you to make the youtube interface as ugly as your heart desires. I can't show a full image of what it looks like because i've been told its eye strainy and i want this post to be accessible but look at this <3

PocketTube: allows you to organize your subscriptions into groups

YouTube Comment Search: what it says

FINDING STUFF

WayBack Machine: you probably know about this site and definitely should get the add on. this allows you to save pages and access older versions with the click of a button. while you can search wayback using web archives, please get this one as well as it allows you to easily save pages and contribute to the archive.

Web Archives: it allows you to search through multiple archives and search engines including WayBack Machine, Google, Yandex and more.

Search by Image: allows you to reverse image search using multiple search engines (in my experience yandex tends to yield the best results)

Image Search Options: similar to the last one

this next section is pretty niche but... STEAM AND STEAM TRADING

SteamDB: adds some interesting and useful statistics

Augmented Steam: useful info specially for browsing and buying games

TF2 Trade Helper: an absolute godsend, lets you add items in bundles, keeps track of your keys and metal and your recent trades, displays links to the backpack tf page next to users profiles and more. look it tells me how much moneys i have and adds metal to trades without clicking one by one oh may god

IN CONCLUSION: oooooh you want to change to firefox so badly, you want to delete chrome and all the chrome clones that are actually just spyware and use firefox

HOW TO USE MOZILLA ADD-ONS ON YOUR PHONE

if you already use firefox on android, you'll know there are certain add-ons compatible with the app, some of them even being made just for the mobile version such as Video Background Play FIx. while most of them are pretty useful, some more specific ones aren't available on this version of the browser, but there's a way of getting some of them to work

you need to download the firefox nightly app, which is basically the same as the regular firefox browser but with the ability of activating developer mode. you can find how to do that here. once you've enabled it, you need to create a collection with all the add ons you want. i wouldn't recommend adding extensions if the creators haven't talked about phone compatibility, but XKit and Shinigami Eyes should work

also, don't tell the government this secret skater move, but you can try using both the regular firefox browser and nightly so you can have youtube videos in a floating box while you browse social media.

see? i can block this terf while Rick Rolling the people following this tutorial. isn't that tubular?

[dnfao3tags]

Finding Deleted Fics: A Multi-Method Guide

i feel like we are the fandom who needs this post the most any fandom has needed it ever.

all of these methods require you to know the title, author and/or link of the fic.

[disclaimer: the fic i am using as an example is not deleted, i just can't think of any other fics to use as an example right now.]

Method #1: Wayback Machine

this is my go to method that i always try first.

steps:

every fic on ao3 has a url of archiveofourown.org/[specific-numbers]. you're gonna need that url, doesn't matter if it doesn't work anymore.

eg.

2. now you're gonna go to archive.org and enter your url in the search bar.

3. something like this will come up. it probably won't be saved as many times though, just once or twice.

just click any of the links now, either the dates marked blue on the calendar or the earliest/latest date. that's it.

drawbacks:

often, a problem arises when searching for fics rated mature or explicit.

the site will have archived this page but not the actual fic. though, maybe lady luck is on your side and clicking proceed will lead you to a saved version of the actual fic. but usually not. and not all fics are saved here. in those cases, i have some more methods.

Method #2: Search Engine Cache

search engines like google and yandex often save a cached version of sites, though yandex is much more reliable than google. i'll give you a tutorial for both.

steps (yandex):

the link isn't completely necessary, just the title and author of the fic will suffice.

go to yandex.com and search for your fic by either entering the url or entering the title and author as such.

3. this will probably immediately come up.

just enter the captcha and it should let you in on the first go but there's a glitch i've encountered where you could be entering the captcha completely correct but for some reason the site still won't let you in. for that, you just have to keep trying again and again until eventually the site lets you in. might take more than 10 tries.

4. once you're in, search results will pop up. directly clicking them will only lead you to the not found page. what you're gonna do is hover over the box of the search result and you'll see 3 dots pop up on the right.

click those and a dropdown menu will appear. click the first option 'saved copy'.

and thats it! this is a much more efficient method especially for explicit or mature fics.

drawbacks:

for some reason, when i open yandex in google chrome, i can't see the 3 dots. i can in firefox though. don't really know what thats all about.

i'll show you how to do it with google too just in case yandex doesn't work.

steps (google):

in the url bar, type cache:[link of fic]. that's pretty much it. google doesn't have a lot of fics saved though so you'll probably get a 404 page.

Method #3: Reddit

there's a subreddit called r/DeletedFanfiction that can probably help you out. either search for the fic as it may have already been posted or req it and someone will probably get you a google drive link soon enough. u/throwthisaway11112 is my lord and savior.

afaik it's still up and running fine despite the reddit protest thing (which i recommend taking a minute to look into).

Method #4: Archive.org Database

okay, now you're gonna need a lot of memory on computer for this one. i'm not gonna even bother and try to explain it, i'll just link you to the original post. thank you once again to the anon who sent me this method!

Method #5: Fandom

if absolutely none of those methods work, you can still just send me an ask and maybe my followers or i will have a saved copy. same for any other fandom, i recommend asking around in popular fandom spaces, someone is bound to have it.

[aringofsalt]

diy ao3 wrapped: how to get your data!

so i figured out how to do this last year, and spotify wrapped season got me thinking about it again. a couple people in discord asked how to do it so i figured i'd write up a little guide! i'm not quite done with mine for this year yet because i wanted to do some graphics, but this is the post i made last year, for reference!

this got long! i tried to go into as much detail as possible to make it as easy as possible, but i am a web developer, so if there's anything i didn't explain enough (or if you have any other questions) don't hesitate to send me an ask!!

references

i used two reddit posts as references for this:

basic instructions (explains the browser extension; code gets title, word count, and author)

expanded instructions (code gets title, word count, and author, as well as category, date posted, last visited, warnings, rating, fandom, relationship, summary, and completion status, and includes instructions for how to include tags and switch fandoms/relationships to multiple—i will include notes on that later)

both use the extension webscraper.io which is available for both firefox and chrome (and maybe others, but i only use firefox/chrome personally so i didn't check any others, sorry. firefox is better anyway)

scraping your basic/expanded data

first, install the webscraper plugin/extension.

once it's installed, press ctrl+shift+i on pc or cmd+option+i on mac to open your browser's dev tools and navigate to the Web Scraper tab

from there, click "Create New Site Map" > "Import Sitemap"

it will open a screen with a field to input json code and a field for name—you don't need to manually input the name, it will fill in automatically based on the json you paste in. if you want to change it after, changing one will change the other.

i've put the codes i used on pastebin here: basic // expanded

once you've pasted in your code, you will want to update the USERNAME (highlighted in yellow) to your ao3 username, and the LASTPAGE (highlighted in pink) to the last page you want to scrape. to find this, go to your history page on ao3, and click back until you find your first fic of 2024! make sure you go by the "last visited" date instead of the post date.

if you do want to change the id, you can update the value (highlighted in blue) and it will automatically update the sitemap name field, or vice versa. everything else can be left as is.

once you're done, click import, and it'll show you the sitemap. on the top bar, click the middle tab, "Sitemap [id of sitemap]" and choose Scrape. you'll see a couple of options—the defaults worked fine for me, but you can mess with them if you need to. as far as i understand it, it just sets how much time it takes to scrape each page so ao3 doesn't think it's getting attacked by a bot. now click "start scraping"!

once you've done that, it will pop up with a new window which will load your history. let it do its thing. it will start on the last page and work its way back to the first, so depending on how many pages you have, it could take a while. i have 134 pages and it took about 10-12 minutes to get through them all.

once the scrape is done, the new window will close and you should be back at your dev tools window. you can click on the "Sitemap [id of sitemap]" tab again and choose Export data.

i downloaded the data as .xlsx and uploaded to my google drive. and now you can close your dev tools window!

from here on out my instructions are for google sheets; i'm sure most of the queries and calculations will be similar in other programs, but i don't really know excel or numbers, sorry!

setting up your spreadsheet

once it's opened, the first thing i do is sort the "viewed" column A -> Z and get rid of the rows for any deleted works. they don't have any data so no need to keep them. next, i select the columns for "web-scraper-order" and "web-scraper-start-url" (highlighted in pink) and delete them; they're just default data added by the scraper and we don't need them, so it tidies it up a little.

this should leave you with category, posted, viewed, warning, rating, fandom, relationship, title, author, wordcount, and completion status if you used the expanded code. if there are any of these you don't want, you can go ahead and delete those columns also!

next, i add blank columns to the right of the data i want to focus on. this just makes it easier to do my counts later. in my case these will be rating, fandom, relationship, author, and completion status.

one additional thing you should do, is checking the "viewed" column. you'll notice that it looks like this:

you can't really sort by this since it's text, not formatted as a date, so it'll go alphabetically by month rather than sorting by date. but, you'll want to be able to get rid of any entries that were viewed in 2023 (there could be none, but likely there are some because the scraper got everything on your last page even if it was viewed in 2023). what i did here was use the "find" dialog to search the "viewed" column for 2023, and deleted those rows manually.

ctrl/cmd+f, click the 3 dots for "more options". you want to choose "Specific range", then "C2:C#". replace C with the letter of your viewed column (remember i deleted a bunch, so yours may be different) and replace # with the number of the last row of your spreadsheet. then find 2023, select the rows containing it, right click > delete rows.

it isn't super necessary to do this, it will only add at most 19 fics to your count, but the option is there!

alright, with all that done, your sheet should look something like this:

exposing myself for having read stardew valley fic i guess

now for the fun part!!!

the math

yes, the math is the fun part.

scroll all the way down to the bottom of your sheet. i usually add 100 blank rows at the bottom just so i have some space to play with.

most of these will basically be the same query, just updating for the relevant column. i've put it in a pastebin here, but here's a screenshot so i can walk you through it:

you'll want to use lines 3-10, select the cell you want to put your data into, and paste the query into the formula bar (highlighted in green)

so, we're starting with rating, which is column E for me. if yours is a different letter you'll need to replace all the E's with the relevant letter.

what this does is it goes through the entire column, starting with row 2 (highlighted in yellow) and ending with your final row (highlighted in blue, you'll want to change this number to reflect how many rows you have). note that row 2 is your first actual data row, because of the header row.

it checks each row that has a value (line 5), groups by unique value (row 6), and arranges in descending order (row 7) by how many there are of each value (row 8). finally, row 10 determines how many rows of results you'll have; for rating, i put 5 because that's how many ratings there are, but you can increase the number of results (highlighted in pink) for other columns depending on how many you want. this is why i added the 100 extra rows!

next to make the actual number visible, go to the cell one column over. this is why we added the empty columns! next to your first result, add the second query from the pastebin:

your first and second cell numbers (highlighted in yellow and blue) should match the numbers from your query above, and the third number (highlighted in pink) should be the number of the cell with your first value. what this does is go through your column and count how many times the value occurs.

repeat this for the rest of the rows and you should end up with something like this! don't judge me and my reading habits please

now you can go ahead and repeat for the rest of your columns! as i mentioned above, you can increase the amount of result rows you get; i set it to 25 for fandom, relationship, and author, just because i was curious, and only two for completion status because it's either complete or not complete.

you should end up with something like this!

you may end up with some multiples (not sure why this happens, tagging issues maybe?) and up to you if you want to manually fix them! i just ended up doing a find and replace for the two that i didn't want and replaced with the correct tag.

now for the total wordcount! this one is pretty simple, it just adds together your entire column. first i selected the column (N for me) and went to Format > Number > 0 so it stripped commas etc. then at the bottom of the column, add the third query from the pastebin. as usual, your first number is the first data row, and the second is the last data row.

and just because i was curious, i wanted the average wordcount also, so in another cell i did this (fourth query from the pastebin), where the first number is the cell where your total is, and the second number is the total number of fics (total # of data rows minus 1 for the header row).

which gives me this:

tadaaaa!

getting multiple values

so, as i mentioned above, by default the scraper will only get the first value for relationships and fandoms. "but sarah," you may say, "what if i want an accurate breakdown of ALL the fandoms and relationships if there's multiples?"

here's the problem with that: if you want to be able to query and count them properly, each fandom or relationship needs to be its own row, which would skew all the other data. for me personally, it didn't bother me too much; i don't read a lot of crossovers, and typically if i'm reading a fic it's for the primary pairing, so i think the counts (for me) are pretty accurate. if you want to get multiples, i would suggest doing a secondary scrape to get those values separately.

if you want to edit the scrape to get multiples, navigate to one of your history pages (preferably one that has at least one work with multiple fandoms and/or relationships so you can preview) then hit ctrl+shift+i/cmd+option+i, open web scraper, and open your sitemap. expand the row and you should see all your values. find the one you want to edit and hit the "edit" button (highlighted in pink)

on the next screen, you should be good to just check the "Multiple" checkbox (highlighted in pink):

you can then hit "data preview" (highlighted in blue) to get a preview which should show you all the relationships on the page (which is why i said to find a page that has the multiples you are looking for, so you can confirm).

voila! now you can go back to the sitemap and scrape as before.

getting tag data

now, on the vein of multiples, i also wanted to get my most-read tags.

as i mentioned above, if you want to get ALL the tags, it'll skew the regular count data, so i did the tags in a completely separate query, which only grabs the viewed date and the tags. that code is here. you just want to repeat the scraping steps using that as a sitemap. save and open that spreadsheet.

the first thing you'll notice is that this one is a LOT bigger. for context i had 2649 fics in the first spreadsheet; the tags spreadsheet had 31,874 rows.

you can go ahead and repeat a couple of the same steps from before: remove the extra scraper data columns, and then we included the "viewed" column for the same reason as before, to remove any entries from 2023.

then you're just using the same basic query again!

replace the E with whatever your column letter is, and then change your limit to however many tags you want to see. i changed the limit to 50, again just for curiosity.

if you made it this far, congratulations! now that you have all that info, you can do whatever you want with it!

and again, if you have any questions please reach out!

[star-41306]

ARCHIVE WAKE UP. WAKE UP ARCHIVE. AO3 CAN YOU HEAR ME?? AO3?? AO3?!?! CAN YOU HEAR ME?? ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN. ao3?? I don't know if you can hear this but, but if you can, I want you to know I'm here, okay? I'm right here. and, I LOVE YOU. ao3, do you hear me? I love you. I'm sorry I don't say it more, it's not because I'm scared of you. I'm not. I've never felt that way! never! *lightning crash as a reminder that some of the most immoral fics ever created reside on ao3* but I am scared that one day you'll realize that you don't need me anymore. and I thought that if I said how I felt it would somehow make that day, hurt more. *camera pans to wattpad and tumblr* but the truth is ao3, I DONT KNOW HOW TO LIVE WITHOUT YOU. I feel like my life started that day I searched you up on Google Chrome. you were still in light mode, and it burned my eyes. and I knew right there and then, in that moment, that I loved you. and I've loved you everyday since. I love you on my good days, I love you on my bad days, I love you on dark mode, I love you on light mode. I love you even when you're under attack. YOU'RE MY SUPER HERO!!! and, I can't lose you!!! okay? I CANT LOSE YOU. YOU CAN DO ANYTHING. you can make people laugh and sob uncontrollably, you can get through this. I believe that, I really do. but right now, you just have to fight. okay? ao3, do you hear me. you need to fight. you have to fight. fight!! FIGHT!!!

[ace-of-gay]

I currently dont have a masterlist set up for this collection but i hope you enjoy this none the less, this will eventually be posted on ao3 but i dont have an account currently

Not betad or edited

Warnings: age regression, self neglect (not eating, not sleeping, etc.) slight panicked reader but not nearly enough to be a full warning, reader is a half ghoul half human cause this is my interpretation of a fantasy universe <3, cuddles!!!

age regression is a coping that can both voluntary and/or involuntary it is entirely safe and reccomended by therapists if they believe it would be effective for said person but as mentioned for some people it is entirely unpredictable, if this makes you uncomfortable please carry on thank you <3

This was originally written for my best friend so keep in mind this is our dream and thoughts and may not fit well into the ghost universe

Word count: 2,025 words

Nameless ghouls and papa copia taking care of half ghoul reader

Having spent a restless night wasnt uncommon for your or any of the ghouls, especially when seasons and elements were changing, you spent a good few weeks of the tour in your element but the farther and farther you traveled to bring enlightenment to others around the world the more the weather seemed to shift, this most recent nights travel not only took you to a new scene and new spirit of buzzing thrill but a stiffened weight of being completely out of your element, while yes it effects all ghouls it affected you far different.

Being part ghoul meant you weren't as aware of your instincts so feeling them shift always left you in a silent suffocating shock.

With so much bustle amongst the ghouls, papa having a chipper edge to his seemingly endless worries it kept the team heightened and moving, preparing and running through the setlist, this will be the biggest show yet in a city youre entirely new to.

You hid the encroaching feeling well, never once had any of the ghouls questions any difference to your demeanor; having one responsibility after another kept you busy all day nevery staying in one area for long, earbuds in and mask upon your dome, it was same as others methods of preparing just more secluded and in your zone, if there were any changes in anything at all papa, the ghouls and ghoulettes knew that they could calmly inturupt you in your flow.

Listening to every part of the setlist through the literal audio versions of it, everything on the outside seemed normal to everyone but the electric vibrations in your joints and dull ache in your head told you plenty, to the others you were staying silent to save your voice for later so to speak but to you the weight of speaking was way heavier than your desire to ask for help or for rest.

With the show quickly approaching and you having forgotten to eat you downed not one but two energy drinks, spiking youre adrenaline temporarily in hopes itd get you through the show.

All you had to do was get through the night off of artificial energy and true passion for others joy. Just like the full ghouls you spent your time during the show in your human form but unlike them you had a harder time forcing it to stay when you were exhausted.

Papa copia unbeknownst to you had his eye on you, hes the only one who saw you this morning, the deep bags under your eyes and your ghoulish grey having a pale green seemingly sickly color easily masked by your helmet, if all went well youd rest for extra tonight but he didn't see that being the only end to the night.

《~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~》

You were a fan favorite, when you weren't singing backup vocals you were running around stage with your hagstorm base shredding in duos with swiss, bursts of fire being shot upwards, the only time you stay away from the edge of the stage, the light from the fire glinting against the slightly matte chrome picguard, just enough to catch you right in the eye blurring your vision with a blinding flash.

to the congregation watching below your jolts you send into moving your bass guitar looked like flare but for you it was sheer panic, the blinding flash was just enough to put you on the edge of tipping into a deeply unwanted headspace at the moment.

prancing over to where mountain is perched at his drums you take yourself out of the limelight and hide yourself in the downcast shadows from his drums, with the last three chords being extended for showmanship you give a desperate glance to papa with hope that he'll see your glance, and such he does.

You station yourself once more at your mic, you stum the starting chords and belt out backup vocals for the final song, your throat aches as your human form is slipping, your eyes having small flickers of change and a small stumble thankfully met with a stomp on the down beat.

papa makes his way your direction ending the set list with 'Darkness at the heart of my love', when it gets to the part without vocals he does hand flourishes while you play your bass passing by with his mic down "tieni duro piccolo", walking his way around the stage to stand center and finish up the song.

In a blurr of time everything felt like it was on sparks of muscle memory and you were at the front with all other ghouls taking a well deserved bow with a standing ovation for each and every single one of you.

Papa copia was the first to lead off stage letting the ghouls throw picks and a few drumsticks from mountain and what not, you didn't stay long to see everything but you did notice people throwing things onstage as gifts; off stage setting down your bass in a stand you stumble into papas open arms.

Your forehead lay gently atop his chest still in your helmet your horns sit near his collar bone shaking yohr head, "i cant papa, i cant" not entirely sure yourself what you meant he hummed in understanding and hushed you, gently rubbing your back and swaying side to side, "stai bene piccolo ghoul, you can rest now. Ive got you, matter of factly weve got you"

Finally relaxing enough to let your ghoul form fall free, your tail limp all of you is exhausted and you feel so small but people always said it was weird and not good, they never listened to you when you said it was involuntary or a coping mechanism it was just permanently bad.

"Oh piccolo, shh your thoughts are so very loud my dear, it is okay to be small, the ministry welcomes all with coping, we will care of you"

He holds you closer and tighter humming a tune, and just like that your walls had fallen, there was no more fighting it, big doe ghoulish eyes staring up at him, complete silence from you.

At this point the others had made their way backstage, dew came walking over to take over while papa helped collect all the instruments. "Dew, could you please take them to the bus? We will get everything "

《~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~》in the bus now and changed in comfortable clothes dew led you to the ghoul pile nest, when you refused to sit down he stepped aside watching as you grab your comfort item from your personal bunk and made your way back to the nest laying in the center, followed by him curling himself around you.

The ghouls only ever took their helmets off when in a homely environment so dew having his helmet off was his symbol of saying you are safe.

Once everyone had finished packing up and putting stuff away they had all filed in slowly

Cumulus being the first to stop by you and dew at the nest, holding out a plush ghoul for you that she had picked up from the items thrown on stage, papa copia was next to stop by sitting with you and dew, you hadnt noticed until now that he was asleep holding onto you until mountain joined pulling him off of you so you could lean into papa as he held one of your comfort snacks and a juice, both already having been opened by him, he held you as you snacked.

Once you had finished he got up going to the front to drive the bus.

You were once more pulled into the cuddle pile by dewdrop his eyes open long enough to make sure all of your comfort items were tucked against your chest, between you both, "sleep little one, a tiny ghoul needs plenty of rest" soon joined by the rest you had finally fallen asleep, the ghouls were your element aswell. When finally at the hotel for the evening you were carefully awoken by papa, all the ghouls except dew had gotten up, but even he was awake, but he stayed to keep you warm, "it is time to go in, we are buddy system tonight, four ghouls in a room, each room has two king sized beds so its plentyful room"

You finally let go of dew and stretch, getting up to get ready you realize your overnight bag has already been packed and one of the taller ghouls hoodies layed out next to it, you could hear the ruckus at the front of the bus of all the other ghouls ready to bunk up in the hotel.

You slip on the hoodie which you now know belongs to swiss, his smell encapsulating your mind.

Papa comes up behind you placing a hand on your back "piccolo the ghouls have decided you can pick who youre bunking with, they want to be sure youre okay when tiny, loro ti amano"

You make your way to the front of the bus where you find the ghouls with their charm up. looking to papa followed by you tapping swiss, rain and mountain on the heads, the three stand up, mountain takes your bag and rain scurrys away and back with your mask in hand "are you able to use charm right now or is the mask a better option?" He questions

Taking a moment to test how well the charm feels, you point at the mask. Nodding he gently places it atop your head, he places his hand under your chin causing you to look up so he can buckle it up and tan pats you atop your head, swiss gently pulls the back of the hoodie at the bottom away from your back "curl your tail tiny" tucking it under the hoodie

Once in the room mountain sets down the bags he was carrying and helped take the mask off of your noggin, ruffling your hair causing you to chirp in response, rain and swiss hop on the bed closest to the door leaving the one near the window "copia is ordering food for everyone, hes getting youre favorite for you" mountain chimes, grabbing to tv channel guide and flipping through it.

"Movie?" You mumble causing all three of them to look over, normally youre completely silent when youre small, "you wanna watch a movie?" He questions flicking on the tv and sitting on the bed, he turns on Wall-E for you.

Sometime a few minutes later he feels you shuffle closer on the bed cuddling into his side with your comfort item in hand.

After dinner was delivered and eaten and the movie was over you had tucked yourself on your side of the bed you shared with mountain, rains lamp still on so he could read while swiss was practically cuddled ontop of him, every time you would shift or turn in bed they could hear it, causing them to watch you carefully when youd move or grumble is dissatisfaction.

there was just no way to get comfortable, this wasnt home or the bus, you werent wrapped in your family, you huff out rolling over to look at mountain, to your suprise he was looking right at you quizically.

You quickly curl into his side before he got the chance to say anything, "o parum ghoul, mi amor, papa is right, your thoughts really are so very loud" swiss sighs, pulling himself out of his bed followed by rain who lay on your open side and swiss next to mountain, it may not be a perfect ghoul pile but its better than before, rolling over when rain pulls out his book to read aloud, your head on his chest.

listen to the thrum and Rumble deep in his chest, your eyes fall closed but not before you wrap your tail around swiss' wrist where it resides clutched around mountain, your mind will feel fresh and lively tomorrow filed with the itmost of energy, especially after an evening full of cuddles and littlespace, rain places a gentle kiss atop your head and just like that you are asleep.

[theglamorousferal]

Persephone's Binding Part 14

Hardcover/Anger Management ship Sacrificial Bride au

AO3 Prompt Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Jazz dismissed herself from the rest of the group, fingers tightening on the strap of the bag on her shoulder. Jason's eyes trailed after her as she made her escape from the group, concerned.

"So, how about we get to that shooting competition that we shelved earlier this week?" Danny asks Jason and Ellie.

"Hell yeah, that sounds awesome, I've been practicing with Dante's help!" Ellie exclaimed. "We should probably change first though, last one to the training grounds has to give Cujo a bath in his huge form!" With that she sped down the halls towards the family residence halls.

"Well you heard her, you can navigate the castle enough to get there yourself right?"

"Yeah I can figure it out, you got some guns I can use though?" Jason asked.

Danny grinned, though there was something sad in his eyes. "Yeah, our parents were inventors and until they realized that ghosts aren't inherently evil they made weapons. I'll show you when we get there, see ya in a bit." He vanished from sight, presumably to go change.

Jason jogged through the castle, resigning himself to losing the race considering the two he was racing could fly at high speeds. He changed into his Hood gear and jogged his way to the training ground where it looked like Ellie and Danny were in a snark-off with each other by the targets.

Danny noticed his first and flagged him down. He led him to a building next to the targets and stepping inside Jason had to tuck in the back of his mind that the parents of the Royal family were mad scientists who saw the aesthetics of 1950's sci-fi and stuck with it. Gleaming chrome with green accents shone from the displays on the walls and from the display cases throughout the room. There were bazookas, sniper rifles, hand guns, a cat-o-nine-tails, and a vacuum all along the walls. In the display cases were tubes of lipstick, bracelets, small rods, grenades etc.

"What's with the lipstick?" he asked Danny.

"Oh, they're lasers. Same with the bracelets. This rod extends into a quarterstaff, this rod has a taser at either end. These grenades form a small portal to a random point in the Realms, these ones stun most ecto-entities." As Danny kept going on about what everything in here does, he would add in little anecdotes about how strong each weapon hits a ghost and it was starting to set Jason on edge.

"How often have you gotten hit with these?" Jason asks levelly.

Danny just shrugged. "Honestly not all that often outside of training, my dad was a bad shot and I mostly managed to dodge my mom. Honestly Jazz is the one who hit me the most when she was still learning combat. She also caught me in the Thermos many, many times." He shivered at the memory.

"Excuse me, thermos?" His previous rage was knocked away at the ridiculousness of the statement.

"Oh yeah, when we were still on Earth I had to capture the ghosts and put them back into the Realms. My parents would build things out of whatever we had when their grants started to run out and so they made the thermos as a capturing device. It didn't work at first, I think it needed more ectoplasm than they had access to because it worked after I charged it with energy. When I found out Jazz knew about me being part-ghost, she ended up trying to join us in taking out the ghosts. It...did not go too well." He rubbed the back of his neck and looked down. "There was a lot of miscommunication, she wasn't listening to us even though we had experience, and we weren't listening to her thoughts on what a specific ghost was up to. She caught me six times that first night I think." He laughed a little. "Eventually we got on the same page and she started training and actually listening to us and we all became stronger for it."

Jason nodded along to the story, glad for more information on the dynamics of the family he's technically at the mercy of right now. He gestured to a pair of pistols on the wall. "Let's get this competition underway, huh?"

Danny smiled at him. "Yeah, let's get to that."

"About time you guys came out here. Let's do this!" Ellie exclaimed when they exited the building. Now that Jason had time to look, he noticed that Ellie was dressed like you would imagine a nomad during the apocalypse would look. She had jeans covered in band patches and other patches and embroidery. She wore battle vest covered in more patches and pins with spikes on the shoulders and a breastplate with the same D-shaped logo Danny had etched into the front of it messily. She had fabric scraps wrapped around her arms under armguards and steel capped boots. Her fingerless gloves also had metal spikes on the knuckles. She also had a pair of aviation goggles over her eyes.

"Well now I definitely need to introduce you to Kon. He's also a superpowered clone who appreciates the Punk culture."

"Really? Hell yeah, that sounds awesome. Hopefully we find your dimension soon then!" They all lined up at the targets. "Now let's see what you can do Lover Boy." She smirked at him.

Jason did his best to not blush. "I'm not gonna push my feelings at your sister. Plus, we barely know each other." He readied himself to shoot, and the competition was off. They all shot true for the short range targets and moved to larger ranges. Ellie misjudged the power on her blast and blew the target apart and Danny sneezed when he fired. Jason was getting used to the fact there was no recoil on these guns as they were energy pistols, but quickly adapted. Once they got bored of stationary targets they moved to skeet shooting and they ended up playing around for a few hours at that before the guns ran out of charge and the two ghosts were starting to get tired.

They all went and changed for dinner where they met Jazz again. She was faintly glowing yellow, her eyes had more flecks of golden light swirling in them and the tips of her hair seemed to be blowing in an unseen breeze. Danny didn't seem to be bothered by the change and took his seat at her right, Ellie next to him, though she looked a bit concerned. Jason took his seat at Jazz's left and Danny began chattering away at Jazz about their afternoon.

"Jason's a pro with the pistols, we'll have to test him against you sometime and see who's better." Danny grinned, all teeth and a spark in his eye. "You're training tomorrow right? You two should spar!"

Jazz and Jason looked at each other and caught each other's eye. After a moment they both turned appraising the other, sizing up their opponent. Jazz grinned. "I think that can be arranged. I do have a meeting with some of the yeti scholars looking into the binding in the afternoon, but my morning will be training yes." She held out her hand to shake Jason's. "Do we have an accord?"

Jason grinned back and clasped her hand, giving it a firm shake. "I can't wait."

[orangez3st]

Zest's AO3 Reading List

Just a personal list for online safekeeping :) bcs my chrome mobile currently has order 66 unclosed tabs

In AO3 I read longfics so some in this list are probably over 50k+ words roughly? Idk I read so much

To authors whose works are on this list: pls comment to be tagged! You deserve all the crediiitttssss!!!!! 🫶🏻💝

My account isn't that big to reach many people in regards of sharing, but I hope you (author) don't mind me tagging you! I want to, if I could find the authors here on Tumblr, so I can deliver my utmost appreciation and rESpEcT for creating such fabulous stories many could enjoy including me. All of you are making me gush over your plot and your OC quirks and your headcanons and I love wasting my time like this lolol

To all fanfic writers out there: stay creative 💓 all of you are doing an amazing job for serving stories like these to the majority of fans down to the smallest niche area 💓💓

I'm not good with pep talk but there u go

Nor am I good with writing hypeup gushing rants, my best effort is to actually scream like a really long high pitched AAAAAA so if you catch me tapping vote/like on your story you bet I'm positively exactly doing that and went into gibberish in my own head but I now am learning to do written version 🥺🫵🏻

Readers! Always support the authors! Leave a like/kudos at the very least! Write something in the comment section no matter how short or long that is, or reblog and share, it'll make authors happy for interacting with you!! 💝

Anything on Tumblr that I read I'll add if I spot the ao3 link as well 👍🏻 I'll always update this list as I read more and more

Tags: 💐general 🌱teen 🌳mature 🍁explicit 🧸domestic/found fam/clone shenanigans 🌸typical romantic 💄smut but light/tame 🔥explicit smut ⛑️typical violence 🌧️angst or hurt/comfort

Reader Fics

More Than Empty Servitude 🌳🧸🌸⛑️🌧️ by k8s_space (Rex)

Living Legacy 🌳🧸🌸⛑️🌧️ by ashxv (Anakin & Obi-Wan & Rex, endgame unknown yet)

By Any Other Name 🍁🧸🔥⛑️🌧️ by @rowansparrow (Rex, Fives, Echo)

What Blooms in Thunder 🍁🧸🔥⛑️🌧️ by @rowansparrow (Rex)

The Headless Guardsman 🌳🌸⛑️ by AmberOwl24 (Fox) @eclec-tech

Tambor's Monster 💐🌱🌸🌧️ by AmberOwl24 (Echo POV) @eclec-tech

OC Fics

Rex

In Command 🍁🧸🔥⛑️🌧️ by Wild_Karrde (Jedi OFC Senna Aven)

Side By Side 🍁🧸⛑️🌧️🌸 by Jamie_writes99 (Bounty Hunter OFC Lenna Stale)

When We Bleed, We Bleed The Same 🌳🧸⛑️🌸 by @inkstainedhandswithrings (Force User OFC Nevaeh Requa)

An Arrangement Meant (not) to Be Broken 🌳🧸💄 by @merlyn-bane @pyromanicdaydreamer (Nurse OFC Riis Beranna)

Fives

Halo 🍁🔥🌸⛑️🌧️ by @rowansparrow (Nautolan OMC Quill Cawthon)

caught in your gravitational pull 💐🧸🌸 by @pyromanicdaydreamer (Waitress OFC Kala)

Echo

When I Watch The World Burn 🌱🧸⛑️🌧️ by halfwaydown (Bounty Hunter OFC Senua Hallack)

Call the Twi'lek Midwife 🌳🧸🌸💄🌧️ by ficsnooneaskedfor (Midwife OFC Citali)

And For You, I'd Break A Thousand Times 🍁🔥🧸🌸 by Mermaid_of_the_Woods (Uni Student OFC Elawyn Hawk) @mermaid-of-the-woods

Jesse

I Like These Odds 💐🧸🌸 by @pyromanicdaydreamer (Athlete OC Siala Jerikko)

Fox

After A Fashion 🍁🔥🧸🌸🌧️ by @aggy72 (Fashion Designer OFC Sylvi Arak)

hold my heart in your hands 💐🧸🌸 by @pyromanicdaydreamer (Senator Aide OMC Isaac)

Cal Kestis

The Force Betrayed 🌱🧸⛑️🌧️ by arthurmangoes (Jedi OFC Sakana Angedis)

Multi

Seeing Red 🌳🧸🔥⛑️ by @hellfiresky (Rex & Fives)

Like A Ride That Cannot Be Stopped 💐🧸🌸 by @merlyn-bane @pyromanicdaydreamer (Rex, Fives, Echo, Jesse, Hardcase)

Who We Are When It Matters The Most 🌱🧸🌸⛑️ by @merlyn-bane @pyromanicdaydreamer (de-chipping AU)

Canon Fics

loopdeeloop 🌱💐🧸⛑️🌧️ by stationary_cycle (Fox and Fives stuck on a time loop to stop O66)

As we Bend and Break through Time 🌱🧸⛑️🌧️ by MapleWren (Time Travel Cal Kestis, TCW)

The GARNet 🌳🧸 by WobblyCat (clone troopers on social media)

Like Fire in Our Bones 🌱🧸🌧️ by acuteneurosis (Time Travel Leia Organa, TCW) @this-acuteneurosis

Order 65 🌱🧸⛑️ by ChaoticGoodThiefling (Post Order 66) @beskarthief

The Presence: A Spooky Bad Batch Tale 💐🧸 by AmberOwl24 (TBB halloween) @eclec-tech

See My Youth In You 💐🧸 by @merlyn-bane @pyromanicdaydreamer (Knight Obi-Wan & Padawan Anakin)

the ghost in the walls (is just a really stupid cat) 💐🧸 by @pyromanicdaydreamer (Codywan, 212th)

[zarvasace]

Hey gamers! Would you like your very own physical copy of a LU Shatterproof story?

Well then do I have the overdesigned project for you! This document has the same text as the AO3 story bonds, the Valentine’s 2024 special, but it has been sized and laid out correctly for a physical booklet! All you need is a printer that can print grayscale and double-sided, scissors, and maybe a stapler.

Find the PDF on Google drive here. (This is my creation, so please don't edit the PDF or remove credit thank you! If you want a different layout or something let me know and I might be able to hook you up!)

Instructions for assembly below the cut.

Download the PDF and press the print button. (The file is called "240225_bondsquarto2_typeset")

If you'll notice, the pages are all out of order. That's because it's meant to be folded in a specific way! (Troubleshooting: I noticed that opening this pdf in Firefox took out some of the words, specifically in Legend's section. I suggest opening in Edge or Chrome or something.)

Print Settings:

Portrait layout

Double-sided: print on both sides, SHORT edge flipping.

Letter paper size.

Fit to printable area for most printers (will have a white border on some edges) or actual size if your printer can go edge-to-edge. Messing with margins and trying to get that right is what took me forever. You could fit to printable area and then trim the margins off if you really feel like it.

1 page per sheet.

You should end up with two sheets that look like this:

Fold the first sheet short edge to short edge. Crease that really well, then open it up and cut it nicely along the crease. A straight edge cutter, or ruler and blade, would be nice but I just did scissors.

Progress so far:

Now fold and cut the other sheet exactly the same way. Arrange the pieces in this order:

Now set them all nicely together and fold all of it in half. You could do each sheet one by one but it isn't that long. Make sure to crease that fold really well!

Then staple or sew the edges, or bind however else you want. I used a stapler. Red thread would be really thematic though.

And ta da! You have your very own limited edition copy of bonds! :)

Last step: take photos and tag me so I can see how you did it!!

[yarrayora]

Kill Them with Kindness

Summary: The most important skill Tsuna learned from Reborn did not come from any of the supplemental lessons Reborn had taught him but something he mimicked by observing his mentor. It was called malicious compliance.

Preview:

If Tsuna didn’t become Vongola Decimo, would anyone acknowledge Hayato’s genius? What would have happened to Lambo whose Family sent him on a suicide mission when he was just a toddler, simply because his body was sturdier than adults? He imagined Fuuta would still pledge his loyalty to Vongola in exchange for protection, but that protection would come with exploitation considering his ability. Lancia would never be able to prove his innocence and Mukuro… he would forever be trapped in Vindicare, while Chrome would never exist in the first place. There would be no justice for Cozart, as his friendship with Giotto would remain buried by Spade’s scheme. If he were to run away now, the people who would pay the price would not be just Tsuna.

>>read on ao3<<

[sunnie-angel]

The Early Years

conrad oxford x reader summary: on the eve of war, a childhood best friend develops into something more, first love blooming between you. a complete (mostly) canon compliant rewrite of the king's man (no knowledge of the movie is necessary to read) tags: period misogyny, grief, minor injury, off screen death, unresolved sexual tension rating: mature | wc: 12.8k a/n: this was supposed to be a little one shot for conrad's birthday, but has spiraled into what might be my longest fic to date. it will be releasing in three parts (my dreams of a one shot have long since faded) and i'm hoping that people will give this a chance even though it's not my usual fandom. this has been so much fun to write and this fic truly would not exist in this form without @batchilla who has been the most incredible beta reader. series masterlist | ao3

Nanny Celeste says you’re to make a new friend today. She dresses you in your Sunday best and scolds your brother for mussing up his hair. A duke’s son, she says and you scowl into the mirror because the only duke around here is the Duke of Oxford and he’s only an old man with sad eyes. His son’s probably going to be just as boring and it doesn’t matter how many ribbons Nanny puts in your hair, you won’t become friends, you refuse. Georgie isn’t any help, tugging at the ends of your hair and babbling about finally having another boy to play real games with. You kick him in the shins for that but he just laughs.

Your second impression of the duke doesn’t change your first. He’s still old and the lines of his face still make him look worn out and sad. He doesn’t look very impressive or dukely, just tired. His son is pale faced and gangly, knobby knees poking out from underneath his short pants. Conrad, as he’s introduced to you and your brother, doesn’t even smile. Just bows stiffly like one of your dolls when you force it to. You hate him already. He probably doesn’t know any fun games to play, just spends his time standing in a corner stiffly, waiting for the clock to strike a new hour.

Mother makes you curtsey, a firm hand on your shoulder. You scowl at the floor as you do, but you do as your told. Seemingly satisfied with your compliance, the adults move on, moving in to the parlour trailing your brother behind them. Quickly craning your head to check that no one’s watching, you poke out your tongue and make a face at your mother’s back. A soft hicuppy peal of laughter startles you and shame faced you notice the Oxford boy is still watching you, his grave face twisted up into a grin. He sticks his tongue out at you and laughing you make another funny face in return. That’s how Nanny Celeste finds the two of you. 

Gripping your little wrist tight she pulls you along to join the others sitting in the parlour. Despite her scolding flowing over and around you, you don't feel repentant in the slightest. The little duke might be fun to play with after all. 

Twice a week and after the Oxfords return from church on Sundays, you and your brother are trotted out to the estate on the other side of the village to be “good influences” for Conrad. It makes a kind of sense, the way your mother explains it to you as she makes you promise to behave yourself this time, after all Conrad will one day be a member of high society and the two of you are the only children near his age and approaching suitability for miles. Most of the nuance goes right over your head, of little interest to a 10 year old wearing shoes that pinch her toes. But whatever the reason you show up like clockwork, the duke’s own driver picking you and Georgie up in a shiny black automobile. 

Shola’s a very patient man, putting up with all of Georgie’s many, many question about the car’s engine. The day Shola brings a new Packard around, edges still chrome and shiny, you have to cover your ears to not go deaf from Georgie’s excited squealing. He, of course, denies doing any such thing with all the flustered dignity a 12-year old can muster, which is to say it wasn’t convincing at all. Unfortunately for you, Georgie’s enthusiasm for all things mechanical is the only thing that saves your first ‘play date’ with Conrad.

The other boy is awkward. Doesn’t know if he should speak or stand in silence, offer you tea or run to hide in another room. His hands are knotting around themselves and the atmosphere is so truly awkward that you wish you had played ill today. He’s not the laughing boy anymore, too absorbed by the quiet echoing halls of a house with only grief to fill it. You dig your toe into the plush fabric of the carpet and wonder idly if the two of you will get scolded later for not trying hard enough.

“The car that brought us here was very nice,” your brother says, breaking the awkward, hovering silence.

“There’s more than just one car in the stables, Shola lets me watch him fix them sometimes,” Conrad offers shyly.

And that’s all it takes. Suddenly the halls are always filled with childish voices crowing with glee. Small feet running down carpeted hallways and desperately avoiding the hands outstretched in games of tag. The servants’ corridors have sticky smiles popping in and out trying to find brand new hiding places in the latest session of hide and seek. The gardens though, oh the gardens are what you love best. Conrad confesses he’s never climbed a tree before and you’re so appalled. 

“Never?” You confirm, shocked. “But you’ve so many here!"

“It’s dangerous,” he says, a little pink around the ears. 

“Not terribly,” Georgie chimes in.

“C’mon, we’ll show you how its done,” you insist imperiously, grabbing his hand to drag him over to the nearest tree with low branches. You don’t want to scare him off yet. 

“It’s rather sticky,” he says, touching the roughened bark gingerly. 

“Good so you won’t slip right off,” you retort. He looks at you sceptically, likes he’s not quite sure if you’re only joking.  At that moment, George puts his shoulder under Conrad and heaves, causing him to scramble for a better grip on the branch. It’s not the most expert mount, you think, hands resting on your hips, but it’ll do. Conrad clings to the branch like a rather bedraggled cat. The only difference is, he hasn’t started yowling yet. The three of you spend the rest of the afternoon improving Conrad’s tree climbing capabilities, only heading for the house when the sun is starting to touch the tree tops and the knees on all of your clothing is thoroughly muddied.

 Nanny Polly never scolds you – much – when she finds out what latest antics you and your brother have gotten Conrad into. Mostly she tells you not to get caught next time or to at least cover up the evidence better. The only real rule she gives you is to not get Conrad into any trouble, the Duke's not so understanding of the mischief children can get up to, see. She’s much kinder than Nanny Celeste is about the state of your dress and for that alone you would adore her. 

Summer slowly fades into Autumn, Winter blowing in fiercely only to melt away to a gentle Spring. Conrad is much less timid now, else you wouldn’t have been able to stand his nonsense for so long. He climbs trees much faster than you, a state of affairs you refuse to acknowledge, due to an utterly unfair advantage of his longer limbs. George keeps trying to pull him away to study the fleet of cars stored away in the stables which you only grudgingly agree to on the condition that you can feed the horses treats, a far more interesting pastime than the silly engines that don’t have a spark of intelligence behind their eyes. A grey mare in particular has taken a liking to you after an exhaustive campaign of treats and neck scratches, a feat you’re very proud of even if the boys would rather watch Shola clean spare parts. 

You’ve fed the mare her standard treat of carrots and scotch mints and have moved on to grooming her occasionally. She seems to have decided that you require grooming in turn, nibbling at the top of your head and using you as a scratching post until you can barely contain your laughter, having to steady yourself against the stall door to avoid falling over from the force of her affection.

“Emily?” A voice calls, and you freeze. No one’s told you that you can’t play with any of the horses, they just haven’t told you that you can either. 

Slowly you turn to face the speaker. The mare must recognise your fear because she stops nibbling at you, whickering gently. Leaning heavily on his cane is the Duke, a hollowed out expression moulding his face into something resembling devastation. You bob a curtsey.

“I’m sorry Your Grace, I was just petting her,” you explain, tongue clumsy in your mouth. It's the first real conversation you’ve had with the Duke. 

“No, it’s nothing. But for a moment you looked so like—"

“Father!” Conrad calls, finally having noticed the man’s presence. “Come and see, I’ve changed the oil all by myself!"

“I helped!” yelps Georgie, indignantly, eager to have his contribution acknowledged. 

The Duke never forbids you from feeding the mare after that, but you check to see if anyone else is paying attention now before you slip her a mint or a sugar cube. If anything, you see even less of the Duke than before. 

Summer fruit starts ripening in the hedgerows, sweet wild currants and blackberries that you teach Conrad to pick. His tight lipped smiles become just as berry stained as yours and you tease him about his greedy fingers. Still he slips you the last of the wild strawberries and they've never tasted so sunshine sweet. Slowly, then all at once Georgie stops accompanying you to the estate. 

“He’s going away to school in the Autumn,” you explain to Conrad when he asks. Double checking your path, you reach up and haul yourself up the next branch. “Mother wants him studying more before the term starts, doesn’t want him making a bad impression but he hates sitting still."

“Oh,” Conrad says. It takes you a few minutes to realize that he’s stopped climbing after you. “I’ll be old enough to go to Eton too.” He pauses again and you shift to a more comfortable seat in the crook of the branch. The wind blows through the branches and tangles your hair. Climbing up to see the bird's nest had seemed like such a good idea on the ground; nearly three quarters of the way there and now you're not so sure. “I don’t think he’ll let me.”

“Why not? You’ll be old enough and you’re a duke’s son.” you say. It’s a matter of fact in your world that all the boys in your social circle, when they’re old enough, all go away to school. Like clockwork, they’ll grow out of their short pants and into their school uniform. Honestly you’d been glad that Conrad was a year younger than George because then you wouldn’t be left all alone for another year. You’d still expected to eventually be left behind.

“He’ll say its too far or— or that its too dangerous, that he doesn’t think it’s a good idea. He doesn’t think I’m ready.” Conrad spits out the last word, angrier than you’ve ever seen him. “He thinks I’m a child, that I can’t do anything right. If he could he’d keep me locked up at home for the rest of my life.”

“What’s wrong with home?” you ask, slightly hurt by how worked up he’s getting. “Home’s where Polly and Shola and— and the dells and the forests are. Its where the cars are in the stable, and the horses and the berries in the summer.” And me goes unsaid.

“But I don’t want to stay at home!” He yells, body shaking. “He’ll have me trapped here until I die, and I hate it!” Conrad slams his hand down on the branch he’s leaning on. “I’ll— I’ll never see the world or— or meet any of mother’s relatives. I’ll—” with each new injustice, he slams his fist against the tree.

“Conrad...” you warn him, starting to get nervous by how his fury and the wind are starting to shake the tree.

“No!” He yells up at you, ruddy faced with anger. “I won’t stay shut up—” the branch gives no indication before it breaks with a loud crack, sending him tumbling to the ground. The birds in the nest fly away from the noise.

Calling out his name, you scramble down to to where he lies unmoving at the base of the tree. It takes long, agonizing seconds to reach him, to reach out with shaking hands to clasp at his shoulder. He turns to face and you whimper at the sight of blood streaming down his throat from a gash in his chin.

“That hurt,” he says wonderingly and you promptly burst into tears. Conrad had looked so still and pale lying on the ground that for a brief, terrible moment, you’d thought he was dead. The earth had stopped spinning until you’d reached out and felt him warm under your hands, alive and bleeding. Very awkwardly he pats at your shoulder and you throw yourself at him, blubbering in relief onto his shoulder.

“I’m sorry!” you sob, fingers digging into his shirt. “I thought the tree would be strong enough, I never would have taken you up otherwise. And now—” you hiccup “they’ll never let me come back and it’s all my fault.” A tentative hand strokes the nest-like mess of your hair and you sob harder. Now your brother will be going away and you’ll never see your only true friend again because the only rule you’d ever been given was to never get him into any trouble.

“It’s alright, I’ll tell them— I’ll tell them it was my fault, that tripped when I was running. You won’t get into any trouble, I promise. And then you’ll come back and we’ll spend time together like always and we’ll make George so jealous that he’s away at his awful school.”

You sniffle and curl around him tighter, ignoring the resigned note colouring his voice in favour of clinging to the proof that he’s only injured.

Georgie goes off to Eton and Conrad does not, not even when Conrad is old enough, not even when he begs. Troops of tutors pass through the halls of the estate under Polly’s watchful eye. In a sort of compromise, you are allowed to sit in on his lesson providing you don’t distract him, a classroom of two instead of twenty.

He never complains to your face about this turn of events –  not since that disastrous incident with the tree – but you can still tell from the stubborn set of his jaw, the way his eyes stray towards far off scenes past the windowpanes, that he’s unsatisfied. He wants the world and grand adventures in it but instead he’s got you and a home that’s closing in around him. You know not to take it to heart when his eyes go hazy with far off lands instead of listening to you chatter on or that he gets frustrated when your unsanctioned outings never go further than the village, a line you refuse to cross out of fear of the Duke's displeasure. Favoured as you are, as dear a friend to the family you know yourself to be, there's some mercies you know won't be extended to you. Each time you refuse his entreaties with a smile and each time the smile slips off his face. Even knowing doesn’t stop the sting of it.

Still, you make the most of it. A sticky sweet childhood turning into the endless summer of adolescence. Running after him through the tall grass, his longer legs carrying him much faster than yours until you’re pouting about the first of many unfair advantages. Swimming in the creek just along the edge of the estate and squealing at the chill of the rapidly rushing water. You always have to splash him first before he’ll get in, rolling his eyes but folding up the hems of his pants anyway. Trips to the village sweets store with its large glass jars full of every kind of candy imaginable for paper twists full of barley sugar. You’ve gotten into the habit of crunching the hard candy down into little shards between your teeth before you let them melt away, always finishing your sweets too quickly and then filching some of Conrad’s. His startled shouts are almost as sweet as the candy cracking open. These are the times you’ll look back on as still firmly innocent, without the shadows of adulthood or war looming overhead.

In this way five years unspool, lessons punctuated by brief periods of freedom. Time has ways of getting away from you, slips through fingers that aren’t trying very hard to hold it close like the cold water of the creek. Rather than weeks or months, you start to mark time by when your brother is home or not. Georgie comes home only for the holidays, drips and drabs  of his attention and time that you eagerly look forward to. When the three of you can spend time together just as you did when you were still young children. It’s George’s presence that makes you aware that you’re not those same children anymore.

It’s hot, the first true day of summer blazing across the sky. Naturally, you’re down to your shift and up to your knees in the creek competing to see who can knock the other off balance first and into the water completely with Conrad. He splashes water at your face and you squeal, hands coming up to shield yourself. This turns out to all have been a distraction as blocked from view by your own hands, he lunges forward and catches you around the middle, plunging you both into the crisp water. Spluttering the two of you surface, your thing underthings utterly sodden and clinging to you.

“No fair!” you shout, “That doesn’t count as winning, you went under too.”

“Yes but you went under first and so I should get the point,” he says smugly and you scowl, dashing the dripping hair out of your eyes.

“Fine,” you narrow your eyes at him. “I’ll just have to get even.” Your words are said sweetly but the mean hook of your foot around his ankle is not. Windmilling his arms you grabs ahold of your shoulders, shouting in laughter as he foils your attempt and the two of you end up locked in a grappler’s embrace. Strong glare of the sun is already drying the edges of his hair, reflecting off the shining waters. Your wet shift is still cool, not yet warmed by your body’s heat and his thin shirt is still translucent and dripping. For a moment, you realize how tightly your bodies are twined together, one of his legs pressed between yours for balance, his arms wrapped around your shoulders pressing you firmly to his chest.

“Oxford!” The sudden cry breaks the fragile moment and he releases you so quickly that you fall on your ass in the river. Shading your eyes from the sun’s reflection, you squint up the bank for the source of the voice.

“Georgie!” You call back excitedly, “Come on in, the water’s gorgeous!”

“Winner’s the one that stays standing longest,” Conrad chimes in, somewhat nervously.

George pauses a moment longer, a still shadowy figure on the bank, before shedding his coat and joining you in the water.

Much later, when the sun is about to set and your teeth have begun to chatter, George holds his jacket up to shield you as you slip your dress back on. You dress in silence, struggling to get your dry clothes to cooperate with your still damp underthings.

“I go away for only a term and suddenly you're a woman," he sighs, head still turned to the side for a semblance of privacy. "Is mother already planning your debut?"

You scowl at the reminder that your breasts have budded from flat to noticeably something, the way your hips have swollen wider and your old stockings dig into the flesh of your thighs right above your knees.

"I don't care," you respond hotly, tugging roughly at your dress.

"You're not the only one who grew up," George says leadingly and resolve to ignore him. He continues anyway. "Conrad's what, 16 or 17 now? Nearly taller than I am and he's already broader across the shoulders."

"So?" you ask, wringing out your hair.

"My point—" he sighs, "—is that neither of you are children now, or won't be for much longer. Maybe you shouldn't be acting like children anymore. People won't see it the same way."

"We're friends," you insist.

"And I'm not saying you can't be," George says mildly, shrugging his jacket back on. "Only you need to be more circumspect in your affection or people, who don't know you both as well as I do, will come to the wrong conclusions. Conclusions that would hurt your reputation but leave him unscathed. Do you understand what I'm saying?" He stops in his tracks, training his gaze to meet yours.

You swallow. "Conrad wouldn't ruin me."

"He wouldn't mean to," is all George says.

George's words must carry the weight of some curse only to be found in a dusty Eton library because the next morning you wake up to blood on the sheets and the knowledge that you aren't a child any longer.

You can't unhear the warning now, can't stop the awareness of watching eyes catching your every move. Servants, villagers, local members of the ton. Their eyes scratch and pry, make you shy away from touches that you would have welcomed only yesterday. Staring at the mirror as your new hemlines are marked, you no longer see yourself through your own eyes but through the gaze of everyone else upon you. Does your bodice display your figure too much, cling in a way that might mean your innocent actions become fraught with danger? Is the colour too bold, too inviting?

It takes sometime before your dresses are ready and slowly your wardrobe changes. Your hair too, no longer down and loose, free to tangle in the wind and catch in brambles along with your skirts is held up by too many pins that scratch and itch at your scalp. Headaches are a frequent companion as you adjust to the weight of your crowning glory, as your mother now calls your hair. George only smiles sympathetically from the corners of rooms and sneaks you handfuls of the first summer berries.

Before you can see Conrad — before you can leave the property boundaries even — there are rules. Reams of new rules that your mother and Nanny Celeste instruct you in until your head spins and you can feel the weight of all the eyes on you closing in like iron bars. New ways to talk, to stand, to address others. Distances that have to be observed, body language that now communicates new meanings. Only a handful of days ago you were still in the soft cradle of childhood, now you cannot breathe without some kind of reprimand.

Two weeks since George discovered you playing in the creek, the Oxford butler announces the intentions of the neighbouring young miss to come over for tea later that afternoon. A kind of trepidation follows Conrad around all morning at this clear break in your well established routine. It's been, well, years really since you haven't seen each other for such an extended period of time and never do you go to the trouble of announcing yourself beforehand. The point being, it's odd and Conrad doesn't know what to do with this disruption.

He doesn't think that he's committed any great sin against you. You parted on good terms when he graciously admitted your victory over him, you'd even told him you'd see him soon with a smile. There may have been a few glances from George that Conrad didn't quite understand, but nothing from you. Not even when you broke your word and didn't come round for weeks did he hear anything from you. Only George, who still came around, though albeit sparsely and tight lipped. Perhaps you had gotten ill, caught cold from the water and all the times Conrad had dunked you under. But then George would have mentioned something wouldn't he? So it must have been something Conrad had said or done that had offended you so to ignore him for weeks. He doesn't quite understand what it could have been, he's gone over the day a hundred times to the point where his Geography tutor had rapped him over the knuckles for not paying attention, but still he can't pinpoint any moment of harm. Conrad is prepared to beg for your forgiveness by the time the appointed hour has come around, grimly set in his determination not to drive you away again any further.

It's not the girl he's expecting that walks through the parlour doors. That girl would have had wild hair, a wicked grin that always makes his knees strangely weak, and skirts perpetually on the verge of disarray. This woman, the one that walks through the door, is not her. She wears her hair piled high, her skirts longer, and there's an air of restraint that simply strikes him as wrong, the way it's so carefully painted on. His tongue feels heavy and useless in his mouth at the appearance of his friend who isn't. Before he can manage to speak, Nanny Celeste ducks in through the door behind her and takes up residence in a chair discreetly positioned at the corner of the room he had failed to notice earlier.

"Won't you sit down?" is what comes out first and he curses himself inwardly for how stilted it sounds.

"I— yes, some tea too would be lovely," you answer him, taking hold of the elbow he reflexively offers you and steering him as far away from your chaperone as the room allows.

"I'm sorry, I must have done something to offend—" he starts only to trail off as you begin serving and pouring him tea, a task you've always both taken care of for yourselves.

"Don't be silly," you tell him dismissively, a trace of your usual attitude seeping through. "You haven't done a thing. Mother simply wanted me to start preparing for my debut — it's why George was sent to find me the other day."

"Surely that doesn't take up all of your time?" he wonders, gratefully accepting the teacup and saucer you press into his hands, already perfectly doctored to his liking.

"Well the education of a future duke, though thorough, doesn't exactly prepare one for running a household or becoming a society lady," you say, taking a sip of your own drink and closing your eyes for a moment at the taste, more familiar to you than the blends your family stocks at home. "Mother and Nanny Celeste have to rectify my ignorance before I can make my debut."

"But you're the furthest thing from ignorant!" he exclaims and you shush him, nodding your head to were your unwanted guest sits pretending at disinterest. Quieter, he tries again. "You're not ignorant. You're always showing me up at History and your Latin's flawless."

You stutter for a moment, grip going tight around the cup in your hands at the unexpected praise. "It's not very difficult to beat you at Latin."

"I am rather hopeless at it," he agrees with a grin, at ease with the truth. "It's wasted on me but not on you."

"Being able to read Ovid or translate Seneca doesn't prepare me to run a household or— or how to organize a christening." You flush at the reminder that its not only your ability to host social events that your future husband will be expecting from you. "The expectations are different for me once I'm out in society and I'm woefully unprepared."

"You're worth more than what you don't know," Conrad says simply.

You take another sip of your drink, then shake your head as if to clear it. "Look at us, all gloomy! This is supposed to be a reunion, not a funeral."

"Well—" Conrad starts, putting his tea down on a side table. "When I was sure that I'd done something to make you hate me forever, I figured I would need a rather grand apology."

"Which you know by now is not necessary," you interrupt him.

"Yes — and I'm very glad of that — however, I did still work very hard on my sweeping apology gesture so will you let me finish explaining it to you?" He says exasperatedly.

"Fine, fine, do continue." You wave him on imperiously, struggling not to break your composure. "Thank you. As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, was that I decided the only way back into your good graces was to make friends with your other favourite Oxford."

"No!" you gasp.

"After a long, hard campaign involving much bribery and many, many falls on my part, your favourite grey mare Morgana and I have come to an agreement. I bribe her with the finest apples and mints money can buy, and she will suffer my presence on her back just long enough for a loop around the front lawn."

"Oh I would have liked to see you try," you try to stifle your giggles at the mental image behind your hands. You are failing.

"Now, if it would so please you, I think I've got just enough mints left to bribe her into taking us both for a ride today."

"Truly?" you ask, the yearning lancing through you like a physical thing.

"Whenever you'd like," is his patient response.

With only a brief glance over your shoulder at Nanny Celeste, you weigh up your options. Conrad only encourages you with a grin and with a huff you make up your mind.

Putting aside your own tea, you seize his wrist and start dragging him towards the door. "Nanny, we'll be going for a ride on the grounds, we shan't be long!" You call over your shoulder as she starts sputtering and getting out of her seat to follow. "Run!" you hiss at Conrad and the two of you do, laughing all the way.

"Quickly, quickly!" Conrad urges you to hurry up with greeting your favourite lady so he can slip the bridle on before anyone but Shola breaches the stable doors.

Affectionately your roll your eyes and give her whiskery snout one last fond scratch before moving out of his way. He has to grip you tight around the waist to lift you onto her wide back, the ease with which he does it startling you. Not so much children anymore, either of you.

With a practised ease, he swings himself up behind you and urges Morgana into an even trot. Fugitives all, the three of you escape the stable yard just as Nanny Celeste hits the cobblestones. Reaching the tree line, Conrad slows the mare to a walk and you lean back into him, no longer needing to keep your balance so controlled.

"You act like the two of you are enemies, but she seems to like you well enough," you tell him, enjoying the leisurely sway of Morgana's gait.

"I think it helps that I grew up to look more like mother," he confides, for once not wincing over the word. "Morgana was hers first, after all."

"No one said a word," you breathe out horrified. "I wouldn't have interfered if I'd known."

"I'm glad it was you," he says. "You were about the first person she didn't try to take a chunk out of aside from mother, and now, well, me. She wasn't so lonely because of you and I think mother would have wanted that."

The two horseback riders slowly fade into the foliage of the willow trees, too far to make them out as distinct shapes any longer. Orlando doesn't move from his position at the window. A memory, fragile as spun smoke, overlays the scene, when it was Morgana's original owner on the mare and Orlando at her back. The details of that memory are long gone, but the happiness remains bright, standing out against a faded tapestry of many other such moments.

"They make a lovely picture, don't they?" Shola muses, a pointedness to his tone that Orlando steadfastly ignores. "Perhaps there will be a happier ending this time."

"They're both still children," is what Orlando settles on, leaning heavily on his cane. "I don't know that Emily and I were ever that young."

Nanny Celeste, the tale teller she is, immediately relays the whole incident to your parents. You bear their scolding with good grace, well aware that they would never turn down an invitation from a duke, a fact you had made sure to mention Conrad before leaving. Warmth suffuses your entire body at the simple memory of his actions, his prepared apology that had turned out to be one of the most thoughtful things anyone has ever done for you. It gives you the strength to sit through round after round of interminable lessons on the necessity posture and social graces expected of you once out in society.

Conrad's invitation, when it comes, is full of insincere apologies and the reassurance that not only should Nanny Celeste be present, but that Nanny Polly would also be present. For your peace of mind, he had written, and you'd had to stifle giggles at the thought of Polly sternly telling you to sit 5 centimetres further apart.

It's not quite the adventure of last time, but its still time spent in Conrad's company and so its not wasted. Polly very cleverly keeps Nanny Celeste occupied with conversation and so your privacy is slightly less purely for show. There's no more running through fields and chasing each other up trees, but there's still the first of the summer currants sitting on a plate for you.

To your surprise, the Duke himself makes an appearance towards the end of your visit. His eyes skim over you to focus on Conrad, then how close his chosen chair sits to the edge of impropriety, too close to your skirts to be dismissed as accidental.

"Conrad," he says mildly, but Conrad straightens up in his chair at the first hint of censure. "Your cousin Ferdinand has invited us to to visit and I've decided to accept his invitation. We'll leave next week, so I'm afraid your social commitments will need to be cut short for our preparations."

"We're to leave England?" Conrad asks, shocked.

"It would seem so," the Duke answers dryly. His hand tightens around the head of his cane.

Sensing an opportunity, you seize upon your chance. "Your Grace, might I make a claim to your son's time after your return? Only, I've been so worried about my debutante ball, I'm a dismal dancer you see, and Conrad has offered to open the ball with me so that at I'll have enough time to practice with my partner so I shan't make a complete disgrace of myself."

The Duke turns to consider you, head tilting to the side as he re-examines you as though you are some sort of strange creature that has wormed its way into his home and he's not quite sure if its the type of creature you welcome in with open arms or go for the rat poison. Conrad makes a frantically confused face behind his father's back but you simply jut out your chin and stare down the Duke of Oxford.

"It seems like my son will be needing formal wear as well as a day suit," is all he says and inwardly you shout with glee. It's as close to outright permission as you're likely to get but now Conrad will have an ironclad excuse to be there too. Conrad grins at you wild and disbelieving, before quickly schooling it into something just the wrong side of manic to pass for bored disinterest when his father's attention swings back to him. "Perhaps next time you might discuss your intentions with me before making promises to others, Conrad."

"My apologies, father, I only sought to do the right thing," Conrad says insincerely. Seeming to understand that he won't be pulling out anything resembling coherence from either of you, the Duke simply sighs and takes his leave.

"That was terribly clever of you," Conrad says to you in a shocked whisper.

"It seems as though the world is coming to you," is all you have time to get out before Nanny Celeste is dragging you out the door.

Your parents are both appalled at your forwardness and ecstatic that you've secured, if not the Duke's, then his son's attendance at your debut ball. George, of course, is slightly put out at not being able to partner you for the opening dance but he's a far worse dancer than you are and the argument of your poor toes is enough to reluctantly convince him. That does not stop your brother from sending you warning looks everytime the topic is brought up.

Giddiness thrums through you when Shola and the shiny black car finally pulls around to bring you to the estate. Hums and dances along your veins until you can barely sit still through the short ride, peering out the windows as if that would make time any faster. Nanny Celeste's cold hands clamp down around yours to quiet their fidgeting. Startled, you look up to see her lips pursed in a grim expression.

"What did your parents tell you this morning?" she asks and its strange to think that this woman who has been such a constant in your life would think that anything would have changed.

"Nothing," you tell her honestly. "Father hemmed and hawed over the morning paper and mother told me again to mind my lessons." Her hands tighten around yours to the point of pain and you try to jerk them out of reach.

"Don't ask Lord Oxford about his trip," she pleads with you and you draw back, frightened at her insistence. "It's been in all the papers — on the wireless even — Conrad's cousin and his wife are dead. Murdered."

"But that's exactly why I should be asking then!" you insist, naively certain that when it comes to your friend, you would know best.

"He was there!" Celeste hisses. "It was reported in the morning's paper, that the Duke and his son were there when it happened. He was there and more people than his family were killed." You shy away from her intensity, press your back against the curved leather seat of the car, as far away as the cramped interior will let you. She must notice your discomfort, because the hard line of Celeste's shoulders soften. "I don't want you getting hurt because the little lord is grieving. There's— there's bigger things going on, things for kings and ministers to decide and all of it's starting with his cousin's killing. Just don't go poking any bears, yes?"

You nod to appease her serious eyes, then slip out of the car before it fully comes to a complete stop, unnerved by the seriousness of her warning. It's not hard to find the drawing room, you've walked the carpeted halls so many times now, but Celeste's words ring in your ears, chasing you like phantoms. The door swings open too quickly, but beyond it lies Conrad. The pale, papery quality of his skin and the bruise-like darkness beneath his eyes feels like an omen.

"One two three, one two three," the dancing instructor, Monsieur la Roche counts out, clapping his hands to the beat of the Victrola record. "Feel the music, let it move you— no!" he barks out in horror as once again your newly long skirts twist around your ankles and your face roughly gets reacquainted with Conrad's shoulder. Monsieur la Roche takes a deep, fortifying breath before clapping his hands together and saying "Attend! We will take a short break so the young mademoiselle is not sent 'ome in pieces, yes?"

With a heavy sigh, you throw yourself into the nearest chair.

"You're regretting asking me to be your partner now, aren't you?" Conrad tries to joke but it falls flat, the skittish look in his eyes and hands tucked deep into his pockets betraying him.

"Any shortcomings in this are entirely mine," you reply honestly. The sweat on your brow has been caused by your many, many mistakes after all. "Do sit down, you're making me nervous with all your looming around. Having to look all the way up at you is going to make me dizzy." That last bit isn't strictly speaking true, but it gets him to listen to you all the same.

"At this rate I'll have you backing out on me, and then where will I be left? Dancing with George as he treads on my toes at my first ball?" You sigh wistfully. "I'd much rather have the dashing future duke thank you very much even if I now need to be the one to mind your toes."

"Oh I'm 'dashing' now am I?" he remarks and you freeze. That part wasn't meant to be said out loud.

"Purely the shine of your future title of course, how else am I meant to make an impression? My family's own poor standing or my insignificant charms?" you scoff to cover your embarrassment. "I'd much rather face the horde with you at my side. It's much less frightening to face my first ball knowing you'll be doing it all for the first time with me too. Isn't that what you've always wanted too? The first step moving into the wider world." Horrifyingly, your attempt to distract him and cheer him up only intensify his earlier pallor.

"My first foray outside of England wasn't very successful, by all accounts," Conrad says wistfully, gazing off to some unseen memory.

Drat. Double drat. Don't go poking bears indeed.

"I was sorry to hear of your loss," you tell him gently, tentatively reaching out to squeeze his forearm. The sudden contact brings him back from his reverie but the memories don't dissipate.

"I was there, when it happened. Well when it happened twice."

"You needn't tell me anything you don't want to," you offer him the out but he doesn't seem to notice it.

"There was a bomb—" he begins, and your hold around his arm instantly tightens at the thought of how close to death he came. "—it came at us so quickly and I didn't— I didn't think. I just, just knocked it out of the way I suppose. It all happened so quickly…"

"That sounds pretty successful to me," you reassure him, still not quite able to reconcile the boy whose arm you still clutch and the story he's telling.

"No but you don't see!" He grows agitated, throws off your arm to stand and pace, running his fingers distractedly through his hair. Celeste catches your attention out of the corner of your eye and you shake your head at her to reassure her.

"There were people standing right where I knocked the bomb," he says at last, the confession pulled from his lips reluctantly. Once the floodgates have opened, he can't seem to bottle the words back up inside. "If I'd just been quicker, if I'd been better, no one else would be hurt or— or dead." He whispers that word, so taken up by the guilt and grief that he barely notices you gently tugging at his wrist to sit next to you, or the way his body curves around you, a flower turned to its sun. "I could have saved them but I didn't."

Gently you lace your fingers with his. "You're 17 years old, Conrad. There were grown men there that didn't do what you did, and what you did was try and save the lives of those around you. To save yourself. That's plenty enough heroics for anyone. Who's to say more people wouldn't have gotten hurt if you hadn't acted as you did?"

He grips your hand tightly and pointedly doesn't look at you. You pretend you don't notice the shimmer in his eyes.

"Besides, do you know how put out I'd be if you let yourself get blown up before you'd kept your promise?" You squeeze his hand back. "I'd find a way to be the first living person to haunt a ghost do you hear me?"

He gives you a watery smile and its the most precious thing you've seen, far more precious than any of the jewels kept safe in your mother's jewellery box or any of the paintings by the grand masters hanging in the halls. Slowly you lift a hand and brush his dishevelled hair back into place.

"Quelle surprise! If these uptight English dances will not get you moving to the music, perhaps something with a little more passion, non?" Monsieur la Roche's voice in your ear has you jumping back in surprise, the feeling that you'd been caught doing something illicit making heat rush to your cheeks. "Up, up! Me'mselle Celeste, if you could put on the record marked 'tango', we shall be very well set I think!"

The dancing master urges the two of you up and out of your seats. You manage to throw one helpless, terrified look at Conrad before the two of you are being set into position.

"Are they meant to be standing that close?" Celeste asks, wringing her hands nervously.

"But of course! They will need to be much closer if he's to lead her properly." The overly energetic man fairly bounces around the two of you, correcting an elbow here, pushing a body closer there, fixing the direction of a foot. Celeste is likely looking on in pure horror, only you wouldn't know because your entire field of vision is completely taken up by Conrad.

It's a much closer hold than any of the dances you've been instructed in before, no chaste hands touching before spinning apart like any of the group dances or the comparatively softer stance of the waltz. He's instructed to hold you close, and he does. A few taps of the dance master's cane and his chest is pressed against yours.

"Your left leg, bring it closer, yes?" Monsieur la Roche calls to Conrad. "The gentleman must lead the legwork and how is she to know if your body does not tell her?"

Conrad grimaces, then does as he's told. You struggle to contain the rising heat in your cheeks and the way your heart has started racing even though the dance hasn't started yet. Can he tell how clammy your palms have gotten, you wonder.

"But his leg is pressed up against her-- her unmentionables!" Celeste gasps. "It's indecent!"

"Pah! Indecent, not so indecent that her Majesty, Queen Mary, did not request a performance of the tango only weeks ago!" The Frenchman sniffs at the perceived attack on his good taste. "Now, one-two one-two one…" He starts clapping out the beat of the music and barking out directions that the two of you struggle to follow.

Thankfully, the instructions are enough to distract you from the press of hands against yours, the warm weight of the body moving with you, as you simply try not to fall over. Oddly enough, the more martial beat and the emphasis on footwork straightens the two of you out into something almost passing for competent. Not quite gliding across the floor, but at least not tripping over imaginary obstacles anymore. Really all the credit should go to Conrad, holding you steady until you found your footing couldn't have been easy but he's barely stumbled since figuring out the basics. In fact you barely move in his arms at all, he's figured out how to hold you so still.

When Monsieur la Roche finally deems you have learned to master the music or some such thing and finally calls an end to the lesson, sweat trickles down the back of your neck and sticks the baby hairs framing your face to your forehead. Your hair is escaping from the careful chignon your maid had pinned it into only that morning and you're panting for breath in the most unladylike fashion possible but you cannot bring yourself to care a whit.

A hand thrusts a glass of cool water in front of you and gulp it down with a groan having never tasted anything sweeter.

"Steady on," Conrad mumbles, catching you by the elbow and leading you to a seat. "Plenty more where that came from, only don't make yourself ill."

Leaning your head back with a thunk, you simply groan again. "Tell me that this will all be worth it?"

"I— yes, it'll be worth it."

It's hard to tell, and often you've only got the cheerful words of the dancing master to tell you otherwise, but you do improve. Slowly. Enough that you're no longer worried about breaking Conrad's toes or tripping over the hem of your dress. You dance with Conrad three times a week and though the tango has been strictly stricken off the set list at your mother's insistence — can't have everyone thinking you're a girl of loose morals from the start — Monsieur la Roche still insists on practising it. A small, buried part of you is glad of it, glad that the chance to dance and twirl laughingly across the floor hasn't been fully hemmed in the way all of your other small freedoms have.

When Conrad misplaces his copy of Propertius, it's with a tight smile that you offer him yours. You won't need it for much longer after all, not when your life will be taking a far different direction.

There's a single moment when you know there's no going back. Whereas before there was some sort of nebulous sense that all of this was temporary, a mistake that everyone would soon realize and all would go back to the way it had once been. Now, now there is no sense that childhood is something that will ever be given back to you.

It had been a rare, rare moment when your mother had had time for you. Or rather, you had been made to make time for her. She does this sometimes, comes sweeping through the echoing hallways of your life, leaving what she sees as order and you see as suffocation behind her. Her way of showing her love, you know, but it never ceases to make the fabric of your dresses draw too tightly across your lungs.

On this day, she had swept into your bedroom, trailing her lady's maid behind her as a darkly clothed shadow. She had gone straight to your linens chest and tutted in disapproval.

"We'll have to commission entirely new underthings for her trousseau, these simply will not do," she sighs, and her maid hastens to scribble down her words in a little notebook hanging from her chatelaine like they were something holy. "Honestly dear, why didn't you say anything when the seamstress was already here to alter your chemises?" your mother admonishes you.

You sigh, and put aside your book. "I wasn't aware that I needed anything beyond what I already had."

"Bed linens can wait until we know in which bed you'll end up," she remarks offhandedly and your blood runs cold. You can't feel your fingers. "We'll start with your underthings—" she holds up a comfortably well-worn set of drawers, "—as these won't reflect well on you at all. Two, no three, sets of nightgowns with Valencienne lace. Better to have too many in case your husband feels the need to tear one or two off of you. Four sets of drawers in semi-sheer batiste, four chemises trimmed with broderie anglaise and Valencienne lace…"

It's a kind of cool, detached horror that gets you through the rest of your mother's affection. Her unwavering certainty at the course of your life, tied up and packaged so neatly to improve your family's situation, to improve George's future. You can see it now, a future where your only choices are the colour of the drapes and who to invite over for tea.

"You don't even know if I'll have a proposal by the end of the year," you interrupt her list-making, woolly-headed. Something about the quality of the lighting makes the room appear not quite real.

"Oh there's no use being pessimistic," your mother chides you. "Between your father and I, we'll see you well set up for the rest of your life. Oh!" she exclaims, having caught sight of the one doll you had kept through her previous purges. "What's that ratty old thing doing in your room? Collins," she instructs her maid, "—take it away, the church should still be collecting goods for the poor."

"Wait!" you cry, suddenly possessed with the desperate need to preserve at least this. "Please don't." The doll's cloth body crushes feebly against your chest.

"Darling, really, you're much too old for such things," your mother says as she advances towards you.

"I'll—" you cast around for some sort of excuse. The solid wood panelling of the wardrobe hits your back. "—I'll pass it on to my children, just this one. Please?"

"Now, now, let's not get all worked up over some silly old doll." She reaches for it but you won't let go. "Besides, any husband good enough for you will be able to buy as many new dolls for your children as you desire to give them." She tugs again and your arms go limp. The doll is handed over to Collins, along with the rest of your hopes.

Funny how a single moment marks the end of one part of your life and the beginning of another. All it takes is one successful curtsey before the right person and suddenly you're a woman now. All it takes is one shot and suddenly the world is teetering on the edge of war. A single, silly remark and suddenly the past is a foreign land to you.

George is the one to walk you into the ballroom, but it's the sight of Conrad that settles you back into your skin. There must be something wrong with your eyes because as soon as you see his fair head turning towards you, the nerves quiet and you can no longer the blood-heady thrum of your heartbeat in your ears. He grins, a small private thing, but meant for you nonetheless.

Somehow, you float down the stairs and into his arms just as the first strains of the opening waltz begin. Monsieur la Roche must be proud, you think half deliriously, because you haven't trod on Conrad's toes once.

"What are the odds on Georgie threatening me to a duel, do you think?" Conrad interrupts your spiralling thoughts and suddenly you can no longer float by on the self-deception that this is any other dance lesson.

"What?" you ask puzzled. "Why on earth would he want to do that for?"

"Here, when we swing by the front corner of the room next, see for yourself," Conrad tells you. "He looks right about ready to strangle me in my sleep. Are you sure he doesn't mind not being the one to open the ball with you?"

"It's a little too late to be expressing regrets now," you reply, finally catching sight of George's scowling face. He's all dark thunderclouds hanging low on the horizon and you can't possibly think why. You're behaving yourself, exactly the way he told you to, acting the part of the grown woman you can't escape. "He's probably planning to scare off all my dance partners at some point tonight and claim his brotherly sense of duty drove him to it."

"He'll be very busy then," Conrad says, spinning you across the floor in a way that would have you seething with jealousy if he were to do the same with any other partner. "It looks like almost everyone can't take their eyes off of you."

"What— no!" you say aghast, "I refuse. Absolutely not, no thank you please."

"You can't refuse to be admired!" he laughs at your indignation. "Besides, you can't blame everyone for being enamoured with you, they've only seen you look dazzling from afar, you haven't broken anyone else's toes or shown them up to be ridiculous yet."

"I have not broken any of your toes!" you whisper shout at him, infuriated at the blatant lies your best friend is spewing.

"Well sometimes I wish you had instead of simply bruising them over and over again," he snarks back. For a second, one single, tiny second, you're tempted to stomp on his perfectly polished shoes. Conrad must catch the glint in your eye because he hurriedly leaves the subject alone. "What, no protests about making me look ridiculous?"

"But its so laughably easy to do?" you reply, unable to stop the grin spreading across your face."Really, whoever thought the hundred years war was exactly 100 years long?"

"Then they should have called it the 116 years war then," he pouts, and then bows as the music ends. The rest of the room comes rushing in, the weight of hundreds of eyes settling back onto your skin. Conrad offers you his elbow to escort you back to your family and you balk at the thought of re-entering the crowd that now appears to a solid, heaving mass.

"Let's find Georgie, and then some refreshments," he offers, putting off the greedy eyed mamas and potential suitors for a moment longer.

"Oxford," George greets Conrad stiffly and you roll your eyes at his posturing.

"Do stop being off putting George, or you'll never find anyone willing to dance with you, let alone marry you," you tease him. "Help me find a topiary to hide behind until Conrad can find us some refreshments?"

With one final dark look in Conrad's direction, George offers you his arm. "There's an awful statue of what I think is supposed to be a Grecian urn that most young people seem to be avoiding."

The reason for why the urn — and it really is quite a tacky piece of flower arranging — is so abandoned, is that most of the society mamas, including your own, seem to have claimed it to hold their own court. It's too late now to find another spot — a crowd this thick Conrad's liable to never find you again. So instead you glare up at your brother who is looking increasingly embarrassed at his blunder as the two of you stand there and awkwardly hope on whatever lucky star is passing overhead that no one will spot you. It's when you catch you name among the rest of the frivolous gossiping that you start to rethink how quickly you'd misjudged your brother's choice of hiding spot.

"…is so lucky, isn't she?" titters one lady you don't recognise. "Not really fair to the others to share an opening ball with her when she's barely out in society and already secured the attention of the Marquess Bolebec, next Duke of Oxford."

Your face burns as you realize they're talking about your friendship with Conrad. They make it all sound so— so mercenary, as if even in dirty smocks and with a perpetually runny nose you had been intending to seduce him.

"Its not so set in stone as all of that," and that is clearly the voice of your mother trying to demure but only succeeding in sounding smug. "Besides, her father and I wouldn't want to punish her for finding a good match by depriving her of her first season."

"No," sighs a third voice. "But it really is unfair — the boy's not even of age, hasn't entered the marriage mart at all and he's already been snapped up so quickly. Why, if he only had a chance to meet my granddaughter…"

"There's plenty of eligible young men coming out into society this year," your mother snaps back sharpish. Defensive of her territory. Your fingers dig into your brother's arm claw-like. The soft dew of exertion dappling the back of your neck has turned to shards of ice.

" Oh yes!" chimes in the first voice. "Gertrude do let me introduce you and your granddaughter to a dear friend of the family, Lucius Thomassen. An American, but his family were Dutch patroons before the Civil War so absolutely no class but the family's made a fortune in iron and steel…"

Stiffly you turn your head towards your brother. Whatever ghastly expression has plastered itself to your face must make him regret his trickery because he tries to apologize.

"Don't," you cut him off in a strangled voice you don't recognize. "Is this what everyone thinks? About me and the 'eligible Marquess Bolebec'?" Stepping behind the urn must have been a step into a slightly off-kilter different universe.

"I didn't know how to just tell you, if you'd even believe me," he confesses.

"So, what, you decided that cryptic hints and warnings would be kinder?" Hysteria is bubbling in your throat. Only the weight of your perfect coiffed hair is keeping you tethered to the earth.

"And Conrad?" you ask sharply. "Does he know?"

"I don't know," George tells you honestly, a slump to his shoulders. "Some days with the way he acts, I think there's no way he isn't at least a little aware, but then others…you're both so young is the problem."

"According to society, I'm an adult and he'll be one soon too," you say mechanically, throat dry. Is it fear that maybe he doesn't care for you or that he might actually return the feelings you've only just started to realize have been growing in your chest for years now that have you so unbalanced?

"Do you feel like one? Ready to take on all the responsibility that comes with that?" you shake your head. "You shouldn't — neither of you — should have this hanging over you when you aren't even certain of who you are yet." George sighs heavily. "But I worry that if Conrad doesn't propose by the end of the season, Mother and Father will find some other eligible young bachelor that meets all their standards for what you should want out of life instead of taking your opinion into consideration at all."

"So that's it then? Just one—"

"Excuse me," cuts in the flat tones of an American.

In unison, you turn with your brother to face the untimely interruption that had the gall to butt into what was very clearly a private conversation. The American grins too wide, too many of his teeth on display for it not to be unsettling. He looks between the two of you expectantly and when neither of you pick up the conversational bait, he soldiers on alone.

"I saw you taking a turn around the room earlier and thought it'd be lovely to dance with such a fine young lady," the man says still smiling.

"One usually waits to be introduced first, before asking a young woman to dance," George retorts icily.

"Oh but where are my manners? I'm Lucius Thomassen of the New York Thomassens, current guest of the Viscountess of Tewkesbury. Would the young lady care to dance?" He bows and extends a hand gaily. You simply stare at his audacity.

"Then it should be the Viscountess doing the introductions, not you," George gets out through gritted teeth.

"Do forgive me, in America we're not nearly so formal with all of this nonsense. Why, if two people find themselves to be agreeable to one another, they simply say how do you do."

"I'll pardon your ignorance this once," you decide, if only to hurry the man along so you can dismiss him.

"And how very kind you are too," he says, snatching up your arm and nearly pulling you bodily along with him towards the dance floor. Helpless you look back at George who is fast fading into the throng of people, slack jawed with shock at the man's impudence.

"I may have agreed to forgive your lack of manners but I most certainly did not agree to a dance," you tell him frostily, even as you assume the starting formation of the quadrille. You nod and smile stiffly at the partners joining you, unwilling to appear rude before strangers.

"Yes but what a shame it would have been to have left a beautiful young woman on the wall when she could have been showing off her considerable accomplishment on the dance floor," is all he has time to reply before the movements of the dance pick up and you have a reasonable enough excuse to ignore him in favour of concentrating on the dance.

Conrad regrets deciding he could brave the refreshments table alone. Then again, for your own sake, it's probably better that you aren't suffering through this as well. His father has long since disappeared off to a smoking room to sit and read through the energetics of the society mamas and young folk. Conrad will have to ask his father how he managed to slip away so seamlessly, even with his bum leg. He'd really like to know the trick of it because he's been mobbed left and right as soon as he'd left you with George.

Very politely, with the kind of restraint Shola had — beaten? Sparred? Inculcated through the passing on of martial teachings? — struggled to get him to understand, he'd carefully disentangled himself from the mobs of salivating mamas and debutantes with mercenary eyes and found his way to the punch bowl. Well, more like the line leading to the punch bowl. Honestly, who organises these things so poorly? Trying not to betray his nervous energy, he settles for looking around the room to find you. The sort of Grecian urn is as ugly as George intimated it to be, but there you are, tucked away safely with George with no buzzing gnats to make your already fragile evening worse. That is of course, the moment the woman waiting next in line to him chooses to speak up.

"Why, its the young , Marquess Bolebec, isn't it?" With a pasted on grimace of a smile, Conrad turns to greet the latest in a long string of 'new aquaintances'. "The last time I saw you, you were a squalling infant in your mother's arms at your christening. My how you've grown!" The speaker, an old battle axe of a woman is dripping in diamonds. Conrad has to blink away the after burn of their sparkle before he can begin to make out her vaguely familiar face.

"Lady Sedgewick!" he finally recalls. "I hadn't expected to see you here—" he scrambles for the etiquette lessons Polly had so obstinately driven into him when he'd confirmed his intent to follow through with his 'promise' to see you through your debut. "My father and I were very sorry to hear of your husband's passing."

"The old goat was much better off passing onto a more heavenly realm," she waves off his condolences with a sad smile. "And I expect you hadn't thought to run into me at all seeing as you've never come round calling. No, my niece is in her third season as her mother was too useless to see her into a marriage during the first two."

The line shuffles forward. "I wish you the both all the best in your endeavours," Conrad tells her rather sincerely.

"Ah, but look at you, such a dashing young man. Your mother would be very proud you know," Lady Sedgewick says and Conrad has to choke back unexpected tears at the words. "And such a darling lady friend too, to have opened the ball with."

Instinctively Conrad searches you out with his eyes but you aren't behind the urn anymore. No, George is cutting a rather desperate swath towards the dance floor and you are engaged rather passionately in a dance with a man Conrad doesn't know. He can feel his brow furrowing but he doesn't quite have it in himself to play at the mask of bored socialite.

"…does the charming lady and her dance partner intend to announce their engagement soon?" Lady Sedgewick probes coyly. Too distracted at the sight of you twirling in and out of the hands of some stranger, Conrad doesn't catch her meaning.

"I wouldn't know, I'm not privy to that information," he answers her rather shortly. "Oh Lady Sedgewick I do believe that's your drinks." Rather abruptly he ushers the drinks into her hands, the crystal chilled from the drinks clammy against his palms. He barely remembers to gather the refreshments intended for you before striding across the ballroom as quickly as his long legs will carry him, the tails of his jacket flaring out behind him.

He reaches George just as you do, trailing your unwelcomed guest. With his dark hair heavy with pomade, he gives off the unavoidable impression of oiliness.

"Lord Bolebec, your timing with the refreshments is impeccable," you greet him with palpable relief and any irritation drains out of him. Conrad makes sure to brush your gloved fingertips as he hands your glass over and you give him a knowing look that says you know exactly what he's up to. George has to clear his throat for Conrad to remember to hand over his drink too.

"Well, aren't you going to introduce us?" interrupts the apparently American fellow — if his accent is to be believed. "I remember you being quite the stickler for that."

His eye twitching noticeably, George says, "Marquess Bolebec, may I introduce Mr. Lucius Thomassen of New York and current guest of the Viscountess Tewkesbury. Mr. Thomassen, the Marquess of Bolebec, the next Duke of Oxford."

"Well it's been very nice to meet you, Your Grace—" Conrad is so caught off guard by the incorrect address that he very nearly misses the next part, "—but shouldn't we get back to dancing, my lady?"

You knock back your drink in a very unladylike matter before pushing the cup into George's unsuspecting hands. "Unfortunately my next dance has been promised to the Marquess." Luckily Conrad does not miss his cue to offer you his arm. The feeling of your arm resting ever so delicately over his has him standing taller.

"Oh, perhaps then the next one? I'm sure your dance card couldn't have filled up so quickly," he tries again, smiling that same tooth-baring grin.

"I'm afraid it is completely full, Mr. Thomassen," false regret dripping from you words.

"We really should be on our way if we don't want to miss out on the waltz entirely," Conrad adds very unhelpfully.

The slower tempo of the waltz proves a welcome respite to you both. Against all expectation, it's the dance floor with all its prying eyes that is the most peaceful part of the evening. You close your eyes, just for a moment, trusting that Conrad will be there keep you standing.

"That was a very interesting fellow," he remarks, breaking you out of the moment.

"Who, Mr. Thomassen?" you reply with surprise. "He's very…American," is what you settle for, not wanting to ruin the moment with your complaints.

"I hear New York is beautiful in the autumn," he says and you give him the Look, the one that says I know you're up to something and I don't know what but quit it while you're still ahead.

"Heard from who? We know practically all the same people and none of them have ever been across the Atlantic." you ask him accusingly.

Sheepish, he can't meet your eyes. "Well, I read it in a book."

"You can read?" you tease him. "I had no idea from the way you butchered poor Keats' poetry only last month."

"Well of course everything I've ever learned has come out of a book — I've never been allowed anywhere or to meet anyone interesting. How else am I to know anything about the world when my only chance to see it ended on such a spectacular note?" There's a high red flush to his cheeks. It can't be exertion, the dance is much to sedate for that, and the room isn't that warm even if he is wearing full black tie.

"You'll see it all someday," you reassure him. "You'll probably cross off all the places in the atlas and then some. But home's not an entirely bad place to be either. I'm sure you'd miss it were you to leave."

"Would you ever want to leave here? Leave home, I mean?" Conrad asks, leading you into the last rotation of the waltz.

It's not your family house with the cold hallways and closed doors that 'home' conjures for you. Its the warmth of the Oxford Estate, trailing after George and Conrad down to Shola's workshop as Polly and Celeste chase you down twisting staircases, the first burst of summer fruit across your tongue and mud caked on your knees. It's Conrad crowing with glee when you translate a passage faster than he can get through it or begging you with pleading eyes for the last of the tea scones.

"No— I, I think I'd be content to not to leave at all, not without a very good reason."

Time turns into an awful blur, late nights of dancing and talking to people who only want the smallest version of yourself. Food so rich it turns your stomach and enough alcohol that you never feel fully sober has you in a constant daze. Celeste has taken to keeping you bed bound until your feet toughen up and stop blistering at the end of each night. Every morning you hiss at her routine of swaddling your feet in clean cotton and poultices but you cannot deny its efficacy. And every moment like a pebble in your shoe, you can't get rid of the thoughts of Conrad and marriage.

Isn't that the answer to all your problems? To that feeling in your stomach whenever he compliments you freely, a remedy to the slow syrup that crawls down your spine when he holds you close to dance? A husband that won't curtail your choices, would celebrate the paths you want to take even if they lead you away from the receiving rooms of the aristocracy and up a tree with a book. Isn't this what you want? Is it what he wants?

Something stops you from bringing the matter up with him outright. For one, there's never a private moment to ask, not between parlour teas and soirees, crowded dance floors and tittering audiences. Too many eager faces to waiting to watch you break your heart So you swallow it down, your love, your questions about the future, let the world spin around you into a haze of music and layered silk taffetas. Champagne bubbles burst under your nose and sweet cordials slip down your throat easily, coating the unease that's taken up permanent residence in your stomach.

It's an undercurrent that seems to be catching. Murmurs of unrest on the Continent weave their way through every gathering, fans covering gossiping mouths, eyes darting. Fewer men — fathers, uncles, husbands — attend, closeting themselves away in smoking rooms, sucking down fat cigars and rumbling over the latest headlines. The whole world is trembling on the edge of some great precipice while the balls whirl gaily on, society celebrating even as the ground is already crumbling beneath their dancing shoes. What are your concerns to compare to all of that?

A hot, sticky night in August has most of the room lamenting about the damnable heat. It's a room mainly devoid of men, all of them occupied at Parliament as the whole world dances right up to the edge. Conrad and George have been stuck to your side the whole evening, unwilling to let you out of their sight as the strange, high pitched drone of fear pitches ever higher. Music somehow doesn't seem appropriate. There is very little interest in dancing, young people clustering around strong drinks with hushed conversation, sweat beading on brows and upper lips. Mr. Thomassen buzzes around, his flat American accent cutting through the hushed murmurs, but you can't care to pay attention. Conrad's arm and the cold glass in your hand are the only thing keeping you present.

A sudden commotion at the front of the room breaks through the tension.

"Quiet! Quiet!" calls out the host. "The Prime Minister's making an announcement on the wireless!"

The crowd surges towards the front of the room and the butler wheeling in the wireless on a tea cart. You're almost crushed by the surge of people, all thoughts of decorum evaporating at the prospect of the unthinkable. George and Conrad do their best to protect you but instead you end up wedged between their chests, struggling not to get any lip rouge on the front of Conrad's shirt.

"Quiet!" comes the cry again, and the crowd falls silent.

"…received his passport, and His Majesty’s Government has declared to the German Government that a state of war exists between Great Britain and Germany as from 11pm on August 4th.”

[shadowgast-recs-weekly]

Happy Birthday, Aeor is For Reccing!

One year ago today (give or take a couple hours), we published our first rec list. To celebrate, I (Opera) have prepared some stats. A little bit like a reccing wrapped, only with a smaller budget and being less creepy about your data.

But thank you to everyone who has recced, every one who has read the reclist, everyone who has reblogged, everyone who has kudosed, to @professor-rye and @theusualjasper, and everyone who helped along the way.

I'm glad we've gotten this far!

To start: We've had 685 recs, 478 fics, 210 Authors, 53 reclists and 43 themes.

Most Recced Authors: (1) Mousecookie - 25 recs (1) royalgreen - 25 recs (3) SaltCore - 21 recs (4) hanap - 15 recs (5) kmackatie - 14 recs (5) Chrome - 14 recs (5) Firefright - 14 recs (8) Mlle Kurtz - 12 recs (9) road_rhythm - 11 recs (9) MinnesotaBruja - 11 recs (9) LuckyOwlsFoot - 11 recs (9) MarsBar2019 - 11recs

Authors with the most fics recced: (1) royalgreen - 18 fics (2) SaltCore - 13 fics (2) hanap - 13 fics (4) Mousecookie - 12 fics (5) kmackatie - 10 fics (5) LuckyOwlsFoot - 10 fics (7) Firefright - 9 fics (7) Jakia - 9 fics (9) Professor_Rye - 8 fics (9) Mlle Kurtz - 8 fics

Fics recced the highest number of times: Hard Mouth and The Hole in the Stone, both recced 8 times Fic recced the most number of times for a single theme: In the Closet of Our Discretion, by Firefright for Cultural Differences (recced 4 times) Longest fic recced: Dappled Shadow and Penumbral Light by Professor_Rye (463,977) Shortest fic recced: Of Constellations and Freckles, also by Professor_Rye (100 words) First fic Recced:  Stay for a Spell by Palebluedot Latest fic Recced: Uncharted Waters by EmpressofWizards

Word Cloud based on what people like about the fics:

Most common content note: Choose Not To Warn Number of Series recced: 16 Percentage of Hidden Gems that are No Longer eligible (have over 150 kudos):  48% (check them out!) Number of Images Rai has Used: 27

So what's next?

Well, the absolute next thing is that sometime this week I'm going to post the reccing spreadsheet for everyone to see - if people want to look through old recs, they should feel free to! Then there's the ideas I had from the survey a few months ago - chief among them was making it easier to import information from AO3 (you'd still be able to rec fics that can't be imported or on tumblr, I'm just trying to remove some of the hassle) I'm still doing research on the best way to make that happen, and kind of selfishly want to do it myself - but it's been a busy couple of months for me.

Speaking of which - I'm having surgery in a month! A double masectomy and reconstruction on February 19 (roughly equivalent to top surgery (masculinizing)) and February 20th (roughly equivalent to top surgery (femininzing- fat grafting)). Kind of like they're turning my chest on and off again - a ctrl-alt-deteat, if you will. Anyway, I don't want cancer, but everyone I've talked to about this has said the stomach incision is worse than the chest incision, and nobody's ever described top surgery as a walk in the park. I'm planning on doing absolutely nothing for six weeks, and @theusualjasper will be taking over during that time.

Anyway, here's to another year! Thanks to everyone who has participated or helped along the way, you're all great. Even you <3

[greatrunner]

It is a truth universally accepted that when critiquing anything regarding AO3/OTW, reactionaries enter the building, and critical thinking and discernment gets locked out.

Nia Ola (on Substack) attempted to raise the alarm about AO3's changes in Terms of Service. This bit in particular:

Nia Ola: "[...]AO3 just updated their terms and conditions so that the only way you can use the site now is that you consent to them taking your data (so, works that you've written, distributed, saved, bookmarked, etc, everything) and give that data and information to the government."

In my time reading Terms and Conditions of Service, websites claiming that they're "duty bound" to provide data uploaded to the site to the govt, depending on jurisdiction, is not a surprise. You will not be informed or told by the site(s) when the government accesses/obtained your information. All on the pretense that it would "interfere with an ongoing investigation".

It isn't dissimilar to the one I've read here for Tumblr. The bit that says (legalese-y) that anything you post on the site can be used as evidence (IIRC) if it becomes "necessary."

But as usual, the AO3 brigade worked like hell to shout them down. Folk focused a lot on how OTW made their TOS "easier" to understand. They claimed Nia Ola was spreading misinformation. Most have gone as far as quibbling with her phrasing, "giving your information to the government" (which they would be doing) based on their personal interpretation of her meaning.

After making the video (they posted on TikTok) private, Nia Ola continued to encourage people to use security measures like VPNs and secure Browsers (they mentioned Firefox; I'm sure others are recommending Tor, Brave, and lesser-known browsers with better security features than Edge or Chrome) and to back up information they didn't want to lose.

Is it an explicit consequence of the election? Probably not. AO3/OTW knows entirely that they're hosting grimy shit on their website and refuse to do anything about it. AO3/OTW, like other websites, are "all-ages". Meaning OTW knows kids as young as 13 (and lets face it, younger) are using AO3. If the US or any other country decides it's politically advantageous to go after them, AO3/OTW is gonna cover their asses and throw you under the bus.

Point-Blank-Period.

That said, I think it would be irresponsible to exclude the election as a factor altogether. Organizations (govt or otherwise) are hang-wringing about rustling conservative feathers, and censoring themselves to avoid the wrath of a Trump Admin.

KOSA and COPPA are still in play. And there's the bill targeting non-profits to consider that's likely (and did) to pass not long after it got shot down.

When Tumblr wanted the favor of the Apple Store and their advertisers, they targeted sex worker blogs and fashion and art bloggers (primarily Black/non-Black). Then, they created an AI flagging system that still doesn't work.

When enough people (and advertisers) made enough noise about the NC-17 content that FanFiction (dot net) hosted on their site (at the height of its popularity, mind you)? They made a choice that allowed the website to survive and eliminate the target on their back. Both were financially motivated, yes, but if it's a choice of annexing content to stay online or getting shuttered?

AO3 will not be an exception. It's already embracing that "Obeying in Advance" phrase y'all are in love with right now.

Nia Ola is not the only one raising the alarm or alarmed by this decision. In your haste to fall on the sword for an organization that does not care about you, try not to make an ass of yourself by dog-piling people with experience regarding the consequences of data collection stemming from policies meant to criminalize sexual content, yeah?

This will continue unless we establish actual policies, education, and protections to prevent the mass surveillance of adult spaces under the pretense of "decency" and "protecting children." Additionally, we must address the ongoing elimination of healthy and safe spaces for children.

Because in our govt's haste to claim their concern for children, the corporations they serve have been demolishing child spaces and media online to save a couple of bucks (Cartoon Network's website comes to mind), and pushing children into adult spaces. And if they're not pushing kids into adult spaces, they're inviting adults into so-called kid spaces to increase their profits (Roblox and its attempts to become anything but a game for children, to say nothing of their monetization of the ideas that kids make).

Until our culture/society overhauls its approach to sex education, divorced from white supremacy, the actual intention of creating spaces that aren't sex-negative and don't prey on uninformed children will probably always exist in short bursts.

That means our politic has to rid itself of the reactionary ilk that (a) demonizes all things sexual and (b) refuses to practice discernment and critical thinking in their so-called sex-positive spaces. Both are why places like AO3 manifest and then ultimately help no one.

And it does not help anyone that reactionary AO3 loyalists will always fight to keep conversations about the site politically and socially stunted and unchanging.

Not all censorship and moderation is or should be sex-negative or censorious to the point of infantilizing. But, if the goal is maintaining free speech and freedom of expression (as we like to think of it vs how the govt allows it), it cannot be to the detriment of itself or for the sake of it (i.e., anti-censorship is not the answer any more than autocratic censorship is).

[hylianengineer]

Hey there! You asked about what other things you can do to make sure your fanfiction is safe for screen-reader accessibility. Below is a list of some things to bear in mind. Since every screen-reader is programmed differently there will always be nuances, but there are the general rules that are most widespread.

If your work contains images, use an Alt description. Both Tumblr and AO3 have this feature. If you're not sure about how or what to describe about the image, use the video or voice recording app on your phone and describe the image to yourself. Colours, any key features or poses, and so on. Descriptions don't have to be a mile long, just enough to give a clear idea of what the image shows.

Some screen-readers don't scan or access links embed into works, so bear this in mind if you're including a link that is relevant or paramount to the work. (For example, links to the clothing a character wears, a building, and so forth.)

Unfortunately, punctuation and spelling are pretty important and noticeable to screen-readers. For example, the term 'I'm' without the apostrophe will be read as 'im' like 'him' rather than 'I'm' like 'eye-m'. However a good side to this is that if you use a screen-reader as part of your beta process, it helps you to find spelling or grammar errors.

If you want an approximate of what someone using a screen-reader will hear if you use a particular word, sentence or symbol, you can use either the Chrome Reader extension or Google Translate (which is helpful if you just want to check a word or symbol, rather than whole paragraphs or whole works.) These are free and relatively accurate approximations. 

If you want the visual aesthetic of a pretty line/paragraph breaker but still want your work to be accessible to screen-readers, you can use an image as a divider and simply put 'line/chapter divider' in the description. This gives you the best of both worlds.

I hope that this helps! Please also note that these rules extend to general posts, author notes, comments and so forth.