#you’re safe to have your homoerotic love letters here

[swarmkeepers]

tâm, in the after (wandering isles epilogue thoughts, to say goodbye for real)

the tl;dr: tâm stays on the delrose. ari stays too, for years of travel and study, before  finding their footing on an island to grow on their own. xarus leaves shortly after the fall of castellane to open his dancing hall on solid ground, and before they go he trains tâm to take over their position as quartermaster. lian teleports back on board for weekends playing go fish. but tâm will spend the rest of her life on its decks with thalia and eris and vesper and a family bigger than she ever thought possible.

it’s hard to tell if tâm got a little taller (even at 19) or if she just stands a little straighter. either way, she’s not making herself look small. she’s gotten her legs on the cloudsea and stands a little steadier; her eyes aren’t darting around all the time so much as scanning a familiar horizon.

smiles so much more, is so much more tactile—leaning her head in towards lian or eris or ari or nyx’s to hear what they’re saying, laughing at thalia and eris bickering on deck, looping her arm around someone else’s as they walk, bodily scooping up some of the delrose’s younger crew and slinging them over her shoulder like a sack of flour as they shriek with laughter. she's learned she's allowed to love her family like this; she's learned it's enough (it's everything, really)

tâm isn’t really a letter writing person (she’s not even really a words person), but “i. uh. please can you help” comes easily, if nothing else does. she sends some of the first letters of her life to xarus and is both surprised and delighted when they write back, lots. there’s quartermaster advice and life advice and mutual commiseration over paperwork when all your cargo is illegal and the WORSE paperwork when your pirate ship is starting to become less illegal in the pillaging-for-profit sense but still illegal in the mutual-aid-via-piracy sense. eventually tâm will ask xarus to tell the story of how he became quartermaster with a genuine curiosity, and maybe xarus will tell her

in the process of managing the continual chaos that is the delrose’s inventory as quartermaster, she gets herself a bag of holding and, among other things, keeps her pike in it. it’s always near at hand, still, but she’s not towered over by her own ten foot weapon all the time. also, she thinks it’s funny to surprise the new crewmates the first time they see her pull a ten foot long weapon, magical aura and all, like scarves out of a hat out of the bag that usually holds paperwork and snacks

she mostly uses her bag for snacks, makes herself the first person to greet new crew, size them up for clean clothes, and ask them their favorite food. she grew up hungry, and no one on this boat is going to do the same—for tâm, this is what makes working as quartermaster worth it far more than the raiding parties or the paperwork. when eris shows the younger crewmates and kids the delrose takes in up to the teen zone, tâm usually won’t be there to greet them (she’s still. not the best with new people) but their favorite snacks will be.

“well, thalia gave me this crisp $20 bill” was dead serious but especially now that thalia is her first mate and not her captain Going Thru Some Shit i think. that she and tâm both learn to laugh more, figure out they share the same kind of sense of humor. tâm will continue finding thalia and vesper being extremely cute on deck and/or conducting captain business without thalia ever leaving vesper’s lap and fake-roll her eyes for months once she feels comfortable enough to get away with it.

she still loses game after game of go fish to lian. eventually she’ll win one. i don’t think they bet anything, but these two thieves might make a variant game out of both playing go fish and trying to pickpocket the other at the same time. winning is based both on who won the game of go fish and who got the most stuff.

when nyx steps off the delrose with intent to leave, and eris is standing on deck unsure how much space to give her, tâm will find a deck of cards and then go find eris and ask if eris wants to be distracted by winning game after game of go fish.

the teen zone grows. the teen zone is enabled by the fact that technically tâm does the budgeting on board. things tâm and eris consider adding to the teen zone: more blankets, cannons so eris can be the ship’s gunner, better wine than that blueberry stuff they keep on board for pirate ceremonies, extra snacks

with incredible confusion, for the five long years that eris and tyche are being incredibly homoerotic rivals: “i don’t do romance but i thought YOU do romance so. uh. ARE you trying to do romance right now?”

(by the time tyche joins the crew, there have been a lot more crew coming and going on board the delrose, but. tâm is reminded of something specific when there’s now a rogue/cleric bickering stubbornly with eris on board again, different person notwithstanding. she’s absolutely NOT telling either ari or eris about the similarity.)

tâm grows up. ari grows up. there are things that are undefinable but there is family, and there is love, and that’s never been the hard part between them

there are also care packages, and most of them have bread. tâm learns she likes exploring new cities as the delrose crisscrosses the isles and tries to send ari some new kind of bread every time she finds it in a new marketplace. sometimes, if they have time, she’ll teleport right to their apartment from the bakery to give it to them still warm

eventually the delrose comes back from a long trip through the outer isles and docks in geline for a long stretch of time. tâm wanders the capital’s streets and realizes she’s unsteady. under constance’s new government the city is developing in a new way that she doesn’t intuitively know like she knows the back of her hand (she no longer knows these streets, and she no longer knows blood and hunger here either). she balances now like she’s ready for the deck of the ship to toss in the wind, not like she’s ready to sprint across rooftops on the run. it feels weird. it feels like growing pains. it feels good.

at ari and nyx’s wedding: your vows were very nice, tâm tells ari seriously, slinging an arm around their shoulders to wrinkle their clothes but also to let them preen a little about what they wrote. she hugs them so, so tight and says, i’m SO proud of you for saying them

a few weeks after ari and nyx get married, tâm will look at eris for a long time while they’re both working on the rigging and tip her head to the side and ask, very confused, “are we. siblings?” (the consensus is not siblings, but yes family. it doesn’t make sense. that’s fine)

sometimes you grow closer to people when you’re not living out of each other’s pockets all the time, and that’s tâm with much of the crew that killed prynne castellane. they’re family, tied together by tragedies and victories and magic and letters and visits and love

what’s important to her, when she can’t be the one leading her crew into fights, is training someone new. tâm goes to miles’s magical community school and earnestly asks if they have any accounting classes suitable for one of the younger crew members and gets a weird look, but it’s important to her that they come into this job better than xarus had to, than she had to. that they know how, but they also know why—so they can feed and clothe and take care of and protect this crew, in the big ways in and the small

she still mostly thinks one day at a time, in a better way. tâm will keep putting her body and her weapon in front of her family to fight for them until she can’t anymore. she’s done being scared, and she’s learning to like being scary when she wants to. wherever the bow faces that day is where she’s facing too, and she’ll stand at the hand of her captains and first mates as the positions change hands over the years. tâm will spend the rest of her life on deck, in the storm and the cloudsea. she gets to help people feel safe, at her side and behind her guard.

[mvsicbookfrxndom]

OKAY, LISTEN UP, EVERYONE, 'CAUSE I HAVE THE BEST MOTHERFLIPPING STORY EVER TO TELL YOU!!!

Here's a mental image to paint in your mind:

A socially impaired, lonely teenage girl is hiding in the bedroom she shares with her younger sister from her parents, reading fanfiction on a device she isn't supposed to be using because she's a rule-breaking savage. It's spring break, which should be really fun and awesome, but it isn't because her home life isn't really all that great. Which is why she's hiding in the bedroom she shares with her younger sister from her parents.

She isn't just reading any old fanfiction, either. She's reading Monsieur George deValier's Hetalia: Axis Powers fanfics. They transport her to a world of ubiquitously inclusive homonormativity and give her hope that true love always wins in the end, because its love. No matter what gender anyone happens to love.

Her parents would pass out if they knew what kind of scandalous stories her eyes gobble up while they converse suspiciously about whether or not their rogue daughter is slitting her wrists upstairs.

Which she isn't. She's doing something almost more painful - imagining what it would be like to come out of the closet. To openly admit to the whole world that she isn't monosexual - in fact, she's the furthest thing from it. To have more accepting parents, to have more accepting people around her in general. To not be judged, to be safe in her home instead of being cast out, abandoned. To find her one true love and be devoted forever, whatever gender they might identify as, because that couldn't matter less to her.

George deValier's works have brought to her life a new dimension she never imagined she'd discover. She wishes she could meet him - who knows if he's even a man at all? - and hug him. Tell him he's changed her life forever. Thank him for existing. If only anyone knew who he was so this could happen.

TL;DR: I love George deValier more than my own family.

There's my "setting the scene" portion of this post. Now here comes the crazy story portion!

So I'm reading Auf Wiedersehen, Sweetheart, the first deValier work my eyes have ever had the blessing of experiencing, and there are no words - in any of the multiple languages I am fluent in - for how much it's affected me (not even French, the most romantic language on earth).

I've probably read half of the works on fanfiction.net and AO3 combined, but nothing has come even close to this. At all. The writing is sublime, the plots intricate beyond belief, and the character development positively shocking in its detail. The dedication and talent spent on this is almost scary to think about, not to mention the research that must have taken years to complete, so the stories could be as historically accurate as humanly possible. What's the point in writing fanfiction if this is what you're up against? I'm close to giving up one of my favorite things to do in the whole world because of how shook I am, but if this is how I go down, I'll be going down happy.

Though I've been reading for hours, I've only reached chapter 5, since my eyes have been taking their time to lasciviously devour every letter and fully grasp the meaning of each delicious sentence before allowing further conquest. However, I am no less enamored by the magnificent, captivating story than when I just started it at what seems like a lifetime ago.

As I near the end of ch.5, I almost screech out loud when I read the conversation between Feli and Ludwig about the latter's fighter aircraft Greta. About a quarter of the reason why is because Ludwig just confessed that there is no special girl of his, and my angsty soul is ripping me apart because I need one of them to confess their love for the other RIGHT NOW OR ELSE I'LL DIE.

The rest of the reason is because of who appeared in my mind when I read this scene. The worst person on the planet to think about when you're reading a homoerotic fanfiction is your female ELA teacher, but that's what happened, but not for the reasons you're undoubtedly assuming.

You see, my ELA teacher's name is Mrs. Schmit.

I lose my utter shit. I'm going insane, absolutely bonkers, over the fact that my freakin' ELA teacher's name is in this book, discounting the extra T. Of all the places to find her name, of all the things to remind me of her...

So I come up with the most bloody brilliant idea in the history of the world. I screenshot this section of the book, taking way longer than needed so I can be positive there's no evidence of two men lying next to each other in a field of flowers and tall grass having a "no homo, I'm just wondering, I'm not interested in you at all" chat about their lack of girlfriends to each other by making the font super big and swiping the page up so the dropdowns can conceal Feli's obviously masculine name. By the time I'm done working my magic, the conversation is cutesy and innocent, and, most importantly, there's no mention of anything scandalous. All that's left of the passage is the Greta Schmitt joke, which I consider adorable, clever, and laugh-out-loud funny. At the very least, it's mildly amusing.

Then I send her a picture attachment with the screenshot, along with this exact message, through my school email:

"Hi, Mrs. Schmit!

"I really hope you are having a fantastic spring break so far!

"I'm just sending you this email because I was reading a story and a little part of it brought you to mind immediately (for reasons that will become obvious if you look at the file I attached). This scene was also funny, so I thought it would be something interesting to send you. Maybe it will be a source of amusement for you during this leisurely time off from school.

"Have a great rest of your break, and see you on Monday!"

And then, of course, I sign off the email with my name.

The file I attach to the email is the original screenshot I took. The picture I've attached to this post is a screenshot of that screenshot as it appeared to my teacher. It's pretty meta and rad since I screenshot-ed the screenshot at the same time of the original screenshot one day later.

They're also the same except in the picture in this post, which is the latter picture, the portrait orientation lock is on and in the bottom left hand corner the previous page arrow isn't glowing. I feel the need to point these discrepancies out because they wreak havoc on my perfectionist OCD and if they are destroying you inside as well, I want you to know that I'm aware of these mistakes and I'm incredibly sorry.

On a lighter, less soul-crushing note, what about proposing a fun drinking game? Throw back some liquid every time the word "screenshot" appears in the paragraph before the one above. You'll be sloshed by the third sentence.

Oh yeah - and if you were wondering why my phone says 1:17 WD instead of AM or PM, that's because my device's preferred language is Oromoo. WD is ante meridiem - AM.

At first I hesitate to send the email immediately, because of the indecent time of day it is - i.e. not daytime at all - and the fear that I'll really piss off Mrs. Schmit by sending her a completely unnecessary email at 2 in the morning in a week when she shouldn't bother dealing with anything having to do with her students. It's break, after all.

And if there's one thing I don't want, it's Mrs. Schmit to be annoyed by me. Even though she's very intimidating and I can't help but be extremely scared of her, she's an absolutely fantastic teacher (though I don't think she'd believe me if I told her so) and I like her a lot as a person. Thus, I don't want her deductions on me to be negative, especially since I'm pretty sure she finds me very book smart with good grades, but flighty and scatterbrained (which I am, but not in a cool way). If this rather risky email backfires, it won't improve her opinion of me at all.

Another possibility also occurs to me - what if she finds out what kind of story the picture is from? Or the story itself? It wouldn't be hard at all; it would take me two milliseconds to locate that story. I could be in deep shit, but... In that moment, it doesn't matter to me. I'd probably laugh my ass off. She'd die of shock. It would be hilarious.

To be completely honest, I don't even enjoy the story more because of the gayness, or the lust, or the sex. Meaning, it seems more taboo that a presumably straight girl is reading a mildly erotic gay fanfiction as opposed to a straight one, presumably to get a sexual high from all the possibilities and fantasies manufactured by manipulated attraction, but for me that isn't it at all. The sex isn't even a bonus. I don't mind it, but it isn't the reason I love the story so much. If anyone saw me reading it, that's what they'd automatically think, but I'm not drawn to that. I'm asexual anyway, so I'm not even planning to ever have sex. It just doesn't have that allure or even stigma for me. An example: I occasionally watch porn, but it doesn't turn me on in the least, contrary to what one might assume. I just find it fascinating and laughable, not to mention disgusting and more proof of the downfall of humanity.

When I read books like George's, I adore them because of the writing prowess and talent. The plot twists. The characters. The worldbuilding. That's the shit I'm obsessed with. Not the literary porn in the least! Although it does provide amusement and intrigue.

I feel like I should just clear that up. I wish the story was more... ahem... appropriate, or my motivations for consuming it more ubiquitous, so I wouldn't have to worry about sending an appropriate snippet of it to my teacher, but it's George motherflippin' deValier, so nothing else needs to be said. It's perfect. (Just like you, dear beloved darling reading this!) No further explanation needed.

Also, I'm fairly certain her curiosity wouldn't be piqued enough to actually track the story from my email down, which is a comforting thought. Then again, every time I'm left alone with my thoughts, they conjure up an image of Mrs. Schmit sitting at a computer in a dark room, the artificial blue light illuminating her face as if she's some deep web underground black market Anonymous hacker, Googling the transcript of the fated snapshot, her green eyes widening as she begins reading.

I fucking hate my brain. It hates me too.

So before I can change my mind, I hit send and continue through the glorious Auf Wiedersehen, Sweetheart, a devilish, Alfred F. Jones-type smile spreading across my face. There's no going back now. It is done.

Exceeding my highest expectations regarding a response, I don't even need to wait a full 24 hours before my unread emails total increases by one.

To anyone who's gotten the far, it's been an unjustly long post in the making. The moment you've all been waiting for with an anticipation that rivals that of a beat drop in a particularly lit dubstep track. Don't get too excited, though, because I have this frustrating habit of letting people down and I have a feeling this is no exception. You know, since you're all the way down here, you deserve a treat. What'll it be? Tea and biscuits? Nachos? Poutine? It's up to you. Ask and you shalt receive. I am your humble servant, friends.

Here is her response to my groundbreaking, world-changing email:

"Hi __{my_name}__,

"Yes, that was cute and made me smile!!! I hope your Spring Break is going well.

"Thank you,

" "Messerschmitt" "

DID YOU SEE THAT, GUYS???

SHE PUT THREE EXCLAMATION POINTS AND SIGNED OFF AS "MESSERSCHMITT".

I HAVE WON LIFE! I'VE SUCCEEDED! I AM A CHAMPION!!!

Mon Dieu, she liked the deValier excerpt. She made a fucking reference to it. She's got to be my favorite teacher now.

Don't know how to end this, so I guess...

...y'all, we need to start an international manhunt for our Lord and Savior George deValier. If we find him I can do all the things I said I would. If I get cancer, that's what I'll ask Make-A-Wish.

HIS STORIES NEED TO BE MOVIES I SWEAR TO HIMA-PAPA OR ELSE...

ok I'm done now