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lavellenchanted · 2 years

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I’ll Crawl Home (3/?)

A post Infinity War reimagining where Sif survives the Snap and tries to find her way back to Thor.

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Gulls wheel and shriek overhead as the sleet-grey waves crash against the rocky cliffs stretching out along the shoreline. A stony path climbs up from the docks into green hills and cliffs topped with yellow grasses that sway in the breeze and whitewashed stone houses that reflect back the glare of the sun. The town is built around a wide, square dock and that seems to be the heart of the most of the activity, with small fishing boats going in and out and catches being hauled up to the road.

It is a far cry from the tall golden towers and sleek elegance of Asgard. As she walks down the main thoroughfare, Sif cannot help but grieve for all that has been lost even as her heart sores and tears gather in her eyes at the sight of Asgardian faces walking around her and the sound of Asgardian voices calling to each other. Her people were once the greatest warriors throughout nine realms, protectors and guardians who were respected and revered across the galaxy. Now they are barely enough to fill one small Midgardian town. When she passes the sign that has been altered to read Welcome to New Asgard, a sharp twist of sadness slices through her.

There isn’t room in the narrow, sloped maze of streets or on the dock to land a ship, and Sif had no wish to cause any alarm, so she brought hers down a little way outside the town and walked the rest of the way. At first she was frustrated at having to add even those few extra minutes to her journey, but now, seeing her people and knowing that, finally, she has reached the end of the search that has consumed her she almost wishes there were another ten miles to walk. Her stomach is a leaden weight of knots, while her heart beats frantically against her ribs like a bird trying to free itself from a cage.

Four years . . . Sif has been looking for Thor for four years, and in that time she has imagined their reunion many ways. But she never thought it would come after a cataclysm that destroyed their world and most of their people.

Will he even want to see her?

Or will he blame her, for not being there?

Her hands are shaking a little as she turns in a slow circle in the middle of the dock, trying to ascertain by sheer instinct where in the town she believes Thor would settle.

She must admit, Natasha was right about the clothes. The Norwegian wind rolling in off the sea is bitingly cold as it buffets her, and Sif is thoroughly glad of the thick knitted jumper, jeans and boots she wears. They are certainly better protection against the weather, but she cannot help but feel strangely vulnerable without her armour. At least she still has her sword, strapped to her waist. She puts a hand to the pommel and the touch soothes her a little.

Thor is her closest friend, and has been since they were small children. He championed her when she wished to become a warrior, and they have fought side by side countless times. No matter what else has happened, there is a bond between them that cannot be broken.

He may never love her the way she yearns for, but he will never turn her away or not be glad to see her. She has to believe that.

“Hey. Can I help you with something?”

Sif turns at the voice. The woman staring at her isn’t a face she knows, but there is an unmistakeable air of authority about the way she holds herself and the way others on the dock look towards her. Her long, curled dark hair is pulled back into a tight braid, and she wears the same sort of Midgardian clothes as everyone else, but Sif knows a fellow warrior when she sees one. Which would not be so remarkable – Asgard was a large place, after all, she hardly knew every single citizen – except that when she left four years ago, Sif was the only female warrior Asgard could boast.

“I am looking for Thor,” she replies, holding her head a little higher.

The woman raises an eyebrow. “And you would be . . .?”

“I am L –”

“Lady Sif!”

Before she can finish speaking, she is barrelled into by a small figure that wraps her in a hug. Startled, Sif stands there awkwardly until the figures pulls back to smile up at her, revealing a round, cherubic-like face with wide grey eyes and ash-blond hair.

“Fulla,” she breathes in surprise. It is the first face that she has known in years, and it causes a sudden, intense swell of emotion in her breast, so strong it almost chokes her. “It’s – it’s good to see you.”

“And you, my lady.” Fulla had been a friend in Sif’s childhood, but when she had gone to train as a warrior, Fulla had been taken into the palace as one of Frigga’s handmaidens. They had crossed paths occasionally, when Sif served in the Queen’s Guard and at feasts and celebrations. Fulla had been particularly favoured by the Queen, as she recalled, and wept most keenly at her funeral. “We never knew what happened to you after the King – though I suppose I should not say that, as it was not the King, but Loki in the end. When you did not return, we feared the worst. Praise Ymir, that you are safely returned.”

So they know of Loki’s deception. That is not such a surprise, having seen his body in its true form among the rest of their people; once Thor returned to Asgard it would not have taken him long to discover his brother, Sif is sure.

“I was trying to find Thor, but by the time I traced him he was already returning. I followed but I – I was too late. I am sorry.”

Fulla shakes her head. “No, do not be. You could not have stopped it. I am only glad you are here now.”

Sif tries to smile, but she’s not quite sure she manages it.

“Where is Thor now?”

For some reason, Fulla bites her lip and looks uncertain. “Well, he’s – he’s – ”

“He lives at the top of the hill,” the other woman, the warrior, interjects, peering at Sif with keen, dark eyes. “I’ll take her, Fulla.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” The offer is clearly a relief to her. “This is Lady Sif, one of Asgard’s fiercest warriors. Sif, this is Brunnhilde. She is a Valkyrie, and has been an invaluable help to us these last years.”

Sif’s eyes widen as she looks again at the woman, her mouth opening in quiet awe. A Valkyrie? It’s been over a millennium since the Valkyries rode. It was the tales of their deeds that first inspired Sif to take up a sword, and it was also those tales that had become her greatest obstacle in being accepted as a warrior – the Valkyries had been wiped out in their last great battle and, in the wake of their demise, the Lords of Asgard had begun discouraging women from taking up weapons.

“I thought the Valkyries were all gone,” she said.

Brunnhilde smirks a little, and rolls up her sleeve so Sif can see the white emblem that she knows so well emblazoned on her dark skin. For a moment she is a child again, tucked up in bed and listening to soft sound of her mother’s voice telling her stories of women in shining armour, riding winged mounts to defeat their enemies.

“All but one, and that isn’t for lack of trying on my part.”

“It’s an honour to meet you.” Sif feels a little dazed, to be meeting one of her childhood heroes in the flesh. In some strange, twisted way, she supposes it makes sense that such a dream would come true only at the literal end of their world.

“And you.” Brunnhilde gives her an assessing glance, but Sif isn’t sure what her conclusion is. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Indeed?”

“Mm. Thor has told me many stories about you, and your friends, the Warriors Three.”

She offers a small smile, as if to reassure Sif that the stories have all been happy and affectionate – but Sif is too distracted by the sudden, cold apprehension running down her spine. If Thor has only told her stories of their friends . . .

“Then our friends,” she says slowly, trying to keep her voice steady. “Fandral, Volstagg, and Hogunn – are they . . .?”

Realisation flashes across Brunnhilde’s face, quickly followed by sympathy. Fulla gasps, and as Sif’s gaze slides over her, her expression crumples.

“Oh. Oh, Sif . . . I’m so sorry.” She shakes her head, and Sif – who thought she had already felt as much grief as one person could in a lifetime – feels as if she is standing at the end of an ocean as a tidal wave advances, helpless to do anything but watch as it crashes down and pulls her under. “They didn’t – they fought so bravely. But she – she killed them.”

She? Sif isn’t sure who Fulla means, but at the this moment it doesn’t seem to matter.

In her mind she sees Fandral’s bright, charming grin, hears Volstagg’s roaring laughter that could fill any room, feels Hogunn’s quiet amusement as they shared an eyeroll at their friends’ antics. They cannot simply be gone, empty space where they used to stand beside her. Their last goodbye cannot have been the last time she will ever see them and speak to them. It’s unthinkable.

And yet the faces watching her now say that it’s true.

With Asgard obliterated and half the universe turned to dust, it was far too much to hope that they might all have escaped. Sif knows that – but it does not make the pain beating at her any less.

She wants to cry, or to scream, but she cannot do it here. Not now. She is fighting to keep her head above water, to keep breathing, and she can only focus on one thing.

“Thank you for telling me. Will you take me to Thor now, please?”

If she can just get to him, then perhaps she can survive this.

Brunnhilde nods, and there is something in her gaze that suggests she understands exactly what Sif is feeling. She starts up the hill, gesturing for Sif to follow. Fulla reaches out briefly to give Sif’s hand a squeeze, but stays behind, watching her go.

The chill breeze sweeping over her is a blessing, carrying away the tears gathering on her eyelashes before they can fall. She breathes in the salt on the air, trying to regain her equilibrium.

At first Sif struggles to focus simply on placing one foot in front of the other, but as they walk she becomes vaguely aware of passing others who recognise her, turning and muttering to each other in surprise. They must have assumed she was long dead by now, either lost in space or perhaps turned to ash on the wind in the Snap. Does Thor think the same? What about the Warriors Three? Did they die believing she had failed or – ?

That thought is too much to bear, so she stops it short, searching for something else to occupy her mind. Brunnhilde has been silent so far, for which she is grateful, but conversation seems the best distraction right now so Sif asks,

“How are things here?”

The Valkyrie glances at her and her mouth pulls thoughtfully to one side.

“Tough,” she replies bluntly. “People are having to learn a whole new way of life in the middle of grieving and it’s not easy. But Asgardians are tough people. And right now, after everything they’ve gone through, they know how important it is to stick together. Not that it’s been all smooth sailing, but . . . they’ve got perspective. Less inclined to fight about petty shit at the moment, which helps.”

Her accent is unmistakeably Asgardian, but the way she speaks is far more like someone from Midgard – simple, straightforward, without much of the formality that is ingrained into Sif’s own speech. It seems a contradiction at first, but then again it will have been centuries since Brunnhilde was among Asgardians. Why should she speak like them still?

“I wish I could have been here with you.”

Brunnhilde shrugs. “You’re here now. And you were trying to help them.”

It’s not the same, and Sif suspects Brunnhilde knows it.

They fall quiet again for a time, then Brunnhilde leads her off the main path on to a branching road that winds around to the top of the hill where a single, whitewashed house sits at the crest. Sif looks up at it and feels her heart skip a beat.

Thor is in there.

They’re almost to the door when Brunnhilde stops and faces her, eyes serious and mouth pressed into a line.

“You should prepare yourself. He’s . . . not the same Thor you knew.”

It is similar to what Natasha told her and Sif has expected as much, but even so the flicker of worry is made sharp by a kind of irritation.

How long have either Brunnhilde or Natasha known Thor? A few years? Sif has been by his side for over a millennium. She has seen his very best and his very worst, watched him grow and change and mature from a boy to a man – she knows him through and through, has memorised him from the inside out.

Whatever pain he is suffering now, however much grief has marked him, do they really think that it is enough to somehow change that? That four years apart, after fifteen hundred stood shoulder to shoulder, means she will look at him now and not recognise him?

All she says is, “We are both changed.”

It seems Brunnhilde still hears what she leaves unspoken, however, as she gives her that intense, assessing look once more and then nods slowly.

“I guess time changes everyone, huh?”

She flashes Sif a sudden grin, then turns and strides the last few feet to the door. She doesn’t bother knocking, just opens it and leads Sif down a narrow hallway to the main room. Before they come inside, Sif can hear high pitched, electronic shooting noises and then an unfamiliar voice whining, “Oh, come on, that is just unfair . . .”

When she steps out from behind Brunnhilde, she sees what at first glance appears to be a living, breathing statue sat on a sofa, a pair of headphones on its head and its granite face carved into a look of heavy concentration as it stares at a television screen. Sif glances at it, and sees figures she recognises as being from the sort of simulation game that Midgardians like to play – video games, that’s what they’re called. She remembers coming across them the last time she was here and finding them an entertaining albeit far more primitive form of technology than anything Asgard boasts.

Than anything Asgard boasted.

Another wave of grief pulls at her as she has to take a moment to consciously correct her thoughts. All their technology would have been destroyed along with their world, and she is not sure if Earth will have the materials necessary to recreate it, even if the minds that could do so have survived.

. . . will she ever get used to the idea that’s all just gone?

There’s a flicker of movement from the corner of the sofa, and Sif realises another creature is sat beside the rock creature, a sort of insectoid with a purple carapace that almost blends into its surroundings.

“Let’s see how you like it – take this,” the rock creature is saying, still fixated on the screen, and Sif notices that it’s holding a controller – one its large, stony hands don’t appear to be optimised for as the next moment it hisses loudly, “Shit, I didn’t – oh shut up, you little –”

In apparent disgust it – he? – pulls the headphones off and throws the controller to one side before looking up at them and waving.

“Oh, hey, Valkyrie.”

“Still haven’t beaten him?” Brunnhilde asks with a smile, leaning against one wall with arms casually folded.

His answer is a sigh. “No. He keeps blasting me and I can’t dodge quick enough. But I’ll get him eventually. Just you wait and see.”

“I believe you. Anyway – this is Lady Sif. Sif, this is Korg and Miek.” She gestures at the two of them in turn. Sif nods at them, wondering where they came from and how they ended up keeping company with Thor. “So. Where’s the big guy?”

“Outside.” Korg gestures at the corner of the room, where a door presumably leads outside. “But he’s not in a good mood. Said he didn’t want to see anyone.”

“He’ll want to see her. Go on then. I think you can take it from here.”

This last is directed at Sif, with a nod towards the door.

Sif just stares at it for a moment, her heart drumming wildly against her ribs at the thought that finally, after all this time, she has made it. On the other side of that door is the man she has spent the last four years searching for; all she has to do is step through and she’ll be with him again.

And after that . . .

After that, what?

Before the Snap, before everything, it had been clear. She would find Thor, and return with him to Asgard to set things right. Now, Sif has no idea what comes next. And while part of her says it doesn’t matter, so long as she is by Thor’s side, part of her is suddenly very afraid to go out there and find out.

What if he doesn’t want to see her? What if he blames her, for not being there?

The thought of going out there and having him turn away from her makes her stomach church and a tense, slick anxiety rise up within her.

Her hands clench at her side, and she imagines the Warriors Three stood with her. Fandral would laugh, shaking his head, and say to the others, “Can you believe this? She drags us across the galaxy for years looking for Thor and now she’s here she won’t even go through the door. Maybe we should just go first.”

Volstagg would chuckle, but clap him on the back of the head and reply, “Any chance we can get some food in here while we wait? I get the feeling this might take a while.”

“Be quiet, both of you,” is all Hogunn would say, before giving her an understanding nod, his eyes warm.

(How, how can they be gone?)

Picturing it gives her strength, and, taking a breath, she walks towards the door. Her hand trembles as she lifts it and turns the handle.

It leads out into a garden that stretches up to the top of the hill the house is built on. The grass is overlong, swaying in the wind, and a tree covered in small white blossoms stands to one side. Its trunk stretches into a slight curve and there, standing below its trailing branches, his back to Sif as he leans on the fence, looking out over the town, is Thor.

Sif’s breath catches in her throat.

His hair is shorter than the last time she saw him, just brushing the tops of his shoulders and from the back it looks somewhat unkempt and tangled. It’s not like him; he always took such pride in his hair. Remembering what both Natasha and Brunnhilde said about Thor being a dark place, Sif wonders how well he is taking care of himself.

Like she’s walking in a dream, she moves towards him. He doesn’t turn, doesn’t give any indication that he knows anyone else is there, but when she’s only a few steps away he snaps, “I said I did not wish to see anyone today.”

His voice is harsh, but even so Sif can’t help but smile to hear its low, familiar tones once more.

“I thought,” she says, and immediately his whole body goes rigid, “you might make an exception for me.”

#lady sif #sif #thor #thorsif #thor x sif #my fic #i'll crawl home fic #I saw gifsets of sif's 2 scenes in love and thunder #and the annoyance that the mcu is STILL doing my girl dirty reminded me to continue this #I will channel my frustration into fic #otp: I courted war

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crazy-ache · 2 months

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SJM is a Zutara Shipper? That sounds like Elucien....let me explain

It was recently brought to my attention that Sarah hinted in 2017 at being a Zuko/Katara shipper in the Avatar the Last Airbender series. This was exciting to hear as I was in the ATLA fandom over a decade ago and Zuko/Katara was my first OTP and introduction to fandom. I have loved them a long time and they will always hold a special place in my heart. I want to explore why Sarah shipping Zutara is really important when it comes to Elucien because there are a lot of great parallels.

Note: if you know anything about the ATLA shipping fandom/wars...you immediately know what she means by this. Zutara is a fanon ship that was often baited by the writers. Her disappointment is a shared, common reaction to the ship.

A very long, detailed analysis is below the cut. This NOT for ATLA discourse. This is intended to focus SOLELY on Elucien. Read below if you are a fan of Zutara/Elucien....

ATLA Characters vs ACOTAR Characters

Let's start with the characters themselves.

We have Prince Zuko, the exiled and scarred prince of the Fire Nation, who was banished after his evil, power-hungry father (the Fire Lord) horribly punished him for embarrassing him with his kindness (not wanting innocent soldiers to be used as bait in war), which he viewed as morally inferior and weak. It is implied his mother, a gentle-hearted woman, was abused in the marriage. She disappeared when he was young to maintain her husband's political power, only so that her children would live. The loss of his mother is his greatest trauma, along with his desire to go back home and gain his honor and father's acceptance.

Then we have Lucien Vanserra, exiled and scarred son of the Autumn Court, who had to flee after his evil, power-hungry father (the High Lord) horribly punished him for embarrassing him with his relationship with a lower-Fae female, which he viewed as repulsive and below their High Fae status. It is implied his mother, a gentle-hearted woman, was abused in the marriage. His lover was brutally murdered by the hands of his father/brothers and he had to flee, never having the chance to see his mother again. Losing Jesminda is his greatest trauma, likely along with losing his home, Court, and family.

Let's also not forget...they BOTH WEILD FIRE! I do think the Lucien/Zuko comparison is quite obvious and direct, where the Elain/Katara is a bit more symbolic.

For our ladies, we have Katara, master waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe. She is the youngest daughter of the Chief. She begins the journey as someone untrained and incapable of bending her own element, in a small, impoverished village due to the effects of war and destruction on their nation/culture by the Fire Nation. Her mother was tragically murdered by the Fire Nation in order to save her daughter's life. This is singularly her greatest trauma. Throughout the show, we see Katara become a powerful and master bender.

Finally, we have Elain Archeron, who was once human and is the middle sister in her family. She was the daughter of a once-successful merchant. She also loses her mother and is very close to her father, who she also tragically loses in the war. She loses her humanity and her fiance, Graysen, in one fell swoop when they put her in the Cauldron. This is singularly her greatest trauma, one that we see she has trouble letting go, even becoming practically comatose when it first happens. We later learn Elain possesses magic and is a seer.

A little less here, but I am not surprised. Katara and Elain, personality-wise, are very different. However, I will add that both Elain/Katara are often associated as symbols of HOPE in the narrative. But this brings me to my next point which is where I believe SJM was influenced by Zutara when writing Elucien....

Shared Grief as the Catalyst

Every Zuko/Katara shipper knows the crux of their relationship is from their shared trauma. Despite being on opposite ends of the war, they both carry an immense grief in losing their mothers to the war. It is the first thing they realize they have in common, the first moment they share a genuine, sincere connection, enough for them to reach out and open up to each other.

Elain and Lucien also have a shared trauma. They both lost their first loves/fiances. Lucien lost her tragically. Elain lost him in a brutal rejection. It broke both of their hearts, and they both carry grief and complicated emotions around it.

The hurt and pain brought Zutara together. As a result, they understand each other in ways others can't. I have no doubt that Elucien will spark from a similar place of understanding.

Complimentary Symbolism

One of the most beautiful parts of Zuko/Katara is the use of opposite/complimentary symbolism. Two halves of a whole. Balance and unity.

Zuko= Fire and Sun and Blue Spirit Katara= Water and Moon and Painted Lady

Lol can you believe we got the line below...I couldn't come up with a more romantic symbolic line if I tried and that's canon folks

Lucien = Day and Fox and Spring/Loss

Elain = Flowers and Fawns and Spring/Life

Elain, often associated with gardens and flowers and roses, was asked what she needed at her lowest point. She said "Sunshine." Enter Lucien, the secret heir to Day Court and Helion, whose name means Light. The Fox and the Fawn. Elain "Made for Spring" Archeron and Lucien "Spring Court Emissary and Courtier" Vanserra. I wrote Spring/Loss and Spring/Life because Lucien had to see Spring become ruined/flee the one place he called home. There is strong foreshadowing that Elain will help in some way to revive spring and possibly bring it back to life, hopefully with Lucien's help.

Let's also not forget that Elain was formerly human and now living as a High Fae in the Night Court. Lucien is a High Fae who looked down on humans and now lives in the mortal lands. It's an interesting dynamic!

Betrayal

Okay buckle up. This one is important. The feeling of betrayal is important to the development of both ships. Let me break this down.

Katara is a victim of the Fire Nation. Zuko is the prince of the Fire Nation who once hunted them down to retrieve the Avatar. She often conflated her feelings toward Zuko with her feelings regarding her mother's murder by the hands of the Fire Nation', as evidenced here.

Katara: I'm sorry I yelled at you before. Zuko: It doesn't matter. Katara: It's just that for so long now, whenever I would imagine the face of the enemy, it was your face.

We see these messy emotions come back when Zuko joins the team to teach Aang firebending.

Zuko: This isn't fair! Everyone else seems to trust me now! What is it with you? Katara: Oh, everyone trusts you now?! I was the first person to trust you! [Places her left hand on her heart.] Remember, back in Ba Sing Se. And you turned around and betrayed me, betrayed all of us! Zuko: What can I do to make it up to you? Katara: You really want to know? Hmm, maybe you could reconquer Ba Sing Se in the name of the Earth King. Or, I know! You could bring my mother back!

Now, at this point, we know she has not forgiven him for Ba Sing Se. Remember, this was the moment they shared their intimate connection over their shared Dead Mother trauma. (In an episode called The Crossroads of Destiny nonetheless). She offered to heal his scar, and later when given the chance to choose between what is right vs. what he wants....he chooses what he wants, which is to return home to his father for his acceptance. Katara took this as a personal betrayal and we see she still imagines his face as the enemy by demanding he bring her mother back (even though it isn't possible/he isn't responsible for it).

You know who else has mentioned betrayal?

For a long moment, Elain’s face did not shift, but those eyes seemed to focus a bit more. “Lucien,” she said at last, and he clenched his teacup to keep from shuddering at the sound of his name on her mouth. “From my sister’s stories. Her friend.” “Yes.” But Elain blinked slowly. “You were in Hybern.” “Yes.” It was all he could say. “You betrayed us.” He wished she’d shoved him out the window behind her. “It—it was a mistake.” Her eyes went frank and cold. “I was to be married in a few days.” He fought against the bristling rage, the irrational urge to find the male who’d claimed her and shred him apart. The words were a rasp as he instead said, “I know. I’m sorry.”

Elain associates Lucien's involvement with Ianthe/Hybern/The Cauldron as a personal betrayal. Lucien, much like Zuko, is sorry for his actions that have hurt her.

Both Zuko and Lucien don't argue about the anger/accusations of betrayal. They own it. They just want to make it right.

In the same episode of the snippet above ("You could bring my mother back!") Zuko and Katara go on their infamous "field trip" or journey together, just the two of them. Despite Katara's anger, the two of them are in perfect sync. They are the perfect team and pair, moving fluid in their elements, sneaking around enemy ships. Zuko defends her desire for closure (however dark it may be) against her friends and family wishes. He never questions her. He supports her emotionally. He yells at an enemy solider- "Don't lie! You look her in the eye and you tell me you don't remember what you did." (OH COME ON, what is hotter than that!?) In the end, she forgives him. Not because of what he did. But because he understands her and gives her space and places no expectations of who she is or what she should do. He accepts her. All the dark and pain and light inside.

Don't mind the romantic sunset in the background

Going on an adventure? Likely against the wishes of friends and family due to it being dangerous? Doing whatever is necessary to help the girl forgive you/trust you? Giving her the necessary space and support to do what she has set her mind to? Helping her find closure and healing along the way? Falling love? Sure sounds like an Elucien book......wonder where SJM got the inspiration?

Azriel vs Aang

I cannot write this post without mentioning Aang and Azriel. This is NOT an ATLA shipping discourse so please no comments regarding the Kataang/Zutara ship war. I am using this as a comparison to Elucien/E/riel.

I have a feeling that SJM has written Azriel (specifically in the Bonus Chapter) to serve as a foil to Aang's dynamic to Katara. Which is that both characters feel entitled to their crush.

Aang, the young hero and savior of the world, has a long-standing crush on Katara that is not really reciprocated romantically throughout the series.

When the group goes to watch a play based on themselves, there is scene where the actors on stage go:

Actor Zuko: Wait, I thought you were the Avatar's girl! [Aang in the audience nods in agreement.] Actress Katara: The Avatar? Why, he's like a little brother to me! I certainly don't think of him in a romantic way. [Aang in the audience grows concerned.] Besides, how could he ever find out about ... this? [Actress Katara and Actor Zuko embrace and hold hands while Actress Katara pops up one leg. Aang gets up from his seat to leave.]

It can be interpreted that his nodding and getting upset is attributed to feeling possessive of his crush on Katara. That she belongs to him, as he is the Hero and the Avatar, and should get the girl. He is jealous of something that didn't actually happen between the actors on stage (he is only 12 to be fair).

Further evidence here:

Aang: But it's true, isn't it? We kissed at the Invasion, and I thought we were gonna be together. But we're not. Katara: Aang, I don't know. Aang: Why don't you know? Katara: Because, we're in the middle of a war, and, we have other things to worry about. This isn't the right time.

...and then he kisses her, and she doesn't want it/isn't expecting it, and runs away back to the theater. We won't get into that here.

Hm, this story sounds familiar....

Azriel ignored the question. "The Cauldron chose three sisters. Tell me how it's possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters, yet the third was given to another."

There is a similar sense of entitlement, that also ended with Elain running away from the scene, upset. The difference being he rejected her at the urging (and convincing) of Rhysand because he knew it was a mistake.

Tension & Healing & Growth (What's Next)

"There is a great deal of tension, growth, and healing to be found for both of them (together)." - from Sarah J Maas herself. If she was a Zutara shipper, I can totally see her inspiration in elements of Elucien.

In the end, many Zuko/Katara shippers really believed these two brought out the best in each other in the best possible ways. (I know I did). And I think that's a big reason a lot of Eluciens ship Elain/Lucien...the potential of how they'll complement each other is so huge.

Just as Katara and Zuko were once extremely tense in their relationship, they underwent an incredible and beautiful journey of healing and growth. One that ended in....Zuko sacrificing his life for her. Animated in slow motion with romantic/epic musical scores. For the girl who lost her mother (who sacrificed herself to save her daughter). An epic friendship but no romance....which Sarah herself agreed she wasn't a fan of....

So I imagine she is going to rectify that narrative for Elucien. I for one cannot wait to read their story in their book.

#elucien #pro elucien #elain x lucien #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #SJM is a zutara shipper #elucien meta #THIS IS NOT ATLA SHIPPING POST #DO NOT ENGAGE IN ATLA SHIPPING #this is purely elucien comparison #anti elriel #antielriel #elucien supremacy #i wrote this because i fucking love zutara and elucien #also these ship wars are so similar lmao

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karahalloway · 5 months

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(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 16 - Snakes in the Garden

Fandom: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series Summary: The social season may be over, but Harper Gale’s problems are just beginning. With everyone at court a potential suspect, can she and Drake survive the engagement tour and get to the bottom of the plot against her and clear her name? An AU take of TRR2 featuring my OTP - Harper & Drake.

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

Chapter Summary: Harper greets the world as the new Duchess of Valtoria, but that is not the only newsworthy item that rocks the Apple Harvest Festival...

Word Count: 7,300

Rating/Warnings: M (swearing, angst, possible ulterior motives)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: Things are slowly coming to a head! Thanks for bearing with me on this series - I know I have a lot of other projects in the works, so I have not been updating as much as I probably should. But, we are finally getting to the exciting parts (as if what's happened until now hasn't been exciting 🤣) as after this chapter, we are into the meat of the engagement tour, and all the juicy plot changes that I have been wanting to write for over a year will finally come to a fore! *evil laugh*

A/N2: If you have not heard of TURN - the TV show from which I borrowed the chapter theme song - then, I can highly recommend it (especially if you like historical dramas, US history (specifically the Revolutionary War period), or just really good story-telling)!

A/N3: This is also much submission for @choicesjanuary2024 Day 12: Smiles / Secret

Chapter 16 - Snakes in the Garden

"Are you sure I look okay?" I ask, nervously pulling at the high-necked strip of emerald lace that circles my throat.

"Stop fiddling!" Bertrand berates, slapping my hand away. "We are running late as it, and we cannot afford to lose any more time to last minute touch-ups!"

"Yeah, but—"

"You look great, Harper," Maxwell assures me with a beaming smile. "Marcie did a great job."

The petite make-up artist that the Beaumonts had procured out of thin air bobs a curtsy to my right. "It was my pleasure, Your Grace."

Her words hit me like a whiplash.

Your Grace.

My new form of address. One I'm not sure I'm ever going to get used to. Lady Harper had been one thing, but that had always felt like a curtesy. A temporary formality that had been extended to me by virtue of my sponsorship by the Beaumonts during the social season.

But there is nothing temporary about my current situation. The weight of the ring on my hand — and its implications — bears down heavily on my finger... and my thoughts. Especially since I still haven't found a moment alone with Drake to finish our conversation from this morning... or bring him up to speed on my new status.

Because no sooner had my ennoblement been sealed with the very expensive — and very potent — champagne, than the Beaumonts had shown back up (somewhat mercifully) to crash Christian's surprise party.

And from there it had been a whirlwind of hair, makeup and outfitting for the all-important Apple Harvest Festival where I am due to make my grand debut as the new Duchess of Valtoria.

A position of some importance — Bertrand has stressed, multiple times — given that in addition to the impressive estate that I am now the official caretaker of, I also have a seat on the infamous Council, as well as a seat on the even more exclusive Privy Council. Not to mention my own fleet of staff, vehicles, bank accounts, and carefully curated online profiles.

Which is why — on top of everything — the ever-industrious press corps have worked at record speed to throw the fruits of yesterday's labours together into an exclusive, twelve-page spread as part of a special edition of Trend magazine, which dropped this morning.

And while I haven't actually had a chance to read through the copy that currently sits on the coffee table of my room (together with every other major national and international news publication), Maxwell has assured me that the social media reactions have — so far — been positive. The snaps of my stress-fuelled efforts at yesterday's apple pick have apparently helped.

Which means that Jonathan's PR gamble is starting to pay dividends, and I now have a public image to maintain. Not just for myself, but for Cordonia as well. Because when I step outside today, I'll be representing everything that the kingdom under Christian's burgeoning rule is striving to be — beauty, modernity, opportunity.

Definitely not the best day to wake up with a litany of awkwardly situated bruises!

Thankfully, both Maxwell and Bertrand seem to have had a chance to pull themselves together after this morning's surprising (and definitely explosive!) turn of events, and — after the initial shock — have set about covering for mine and Drake's mess with the same coordinated precision that they employed to pull the Beaumont Bash out of their butts.

With the result that they somehow managed to transform me from the black and blue disaster I woke up as, into the picture of a polished and refined lady.

I glance apprehensively out at the bright sunshine blanketing the hills. Hopefully, the carefully applied window-dressing survives the literal trial by fire it's about to be subjected to. Because just like yesterday, the temperature is set to climb into the mid-90's today as well, which means I'll most likely end up sweating buckets again, thanks to the Edwardian nature of my dress's neckline.

And what I definitely don't need today is for all the blush and cover-up getting smudged away so that everyone at the event can start speculating about the intimate placement of my of hickeys!

I close my eyes wearily. God, I can't wait for all this to be over...

"No catnaps!" snaps Bertrand, slapping a wide-brimmed hat onto my head. "The people are waiting on us!"

I barely have time to grab my matching clutch before the Beaumonts are whisking me out of my room and down the length of the corridor towards the manor's lawn.

"Surely the Festival can start without us...!" I gasp as I stumble after Bertrand in my heels.

"No, it cannot," he reprimands. "All members of the Council must be present for the ceremonial tree planting."

I frown. "Tree planting? Isn't that a little... agrarian for the aristos?"

"It is a time-honoured tradition!" corrects Bertrand. "Cordonia owes its existence and livelihood to the noble Ruby, so it is the duty of the Council to ensure that the fruits of our bounty are secured for future generations! Hence, the requirement to plant new saplings at the end of each harvest!"

"If you say so..." I concede as we pass through the back doors of the manor.

Based on what I saw at the apple pick, Bertrand's pronouncement seems optimistic at best, given that none of the aristos even bothered to lift a finger to a tree yesterday.

But, looks can always be deceiving, so maybe today is the day that the I am pleasantly surprised for once.

A deafening cheer erupts as the Beaumonts and I step out onto the manor's steps.

Snapping my head towards the source of the commotion, I see what appears to be thousands of people crammed behind velvet-lined cordons, screaming and jostling for position like they're in the front row of a Taylor Swift concert...

...and it takes me a second to realise that it's my name that they're shouting.

"Duchess!"

"Lady Harper, we love you!"

"You're the true Apple Queen, no matter what anyone says!"

"Wow..." I blink, taken aback by the fervency of the crowd's reaction. "I didn't realise I had such a rabid following..."

"Best wave to them," suggests Maxwell, leaning in as he raises his arm into the air with a wide smile.

"Okay..." I concede hesitantly, turning to the crowd to do the same.

The last time I experienced anything remotely like this had been on the red carpet at the Derby — my first public outing as a suitor. But even the bright flash of the cameras and the intrusive questions that the reporters had flung at me paled in comparison to the reaction I am receiving today.

Phones and cameras are thrust into the air as the Beaumonts and I descend the manor's stairs to the accompaniment of the increasingly frenzied cheers and shouts of encouragement. Even a few bouquets of flowers fly through the air, narrowly missing my hat.

And I can't help but smile in the face of the genuine outpouring of support from the crowd. Because it sure as heck feels good to be on top for once!

However, arriving at the edge of the orchard where the tree planting ceremony is due to take place, I am greeted by a very different type of welcome.

Snooty expressions drip down the ends of aristocratic noses as the members of the Council pass silent judgment on my somewhat bombastic entrance.

"They're just jealous," Maxwell whispers to me as we take up our spots at the edge of the gathering.

"Yeah..." I agree with a stilted voice. "That's what I'm worried about."

I know firsthand of the lengths that these people are willing to go to in order to exact vengeance for perceived slights. And I did not particularly feel like painting a target on my back a second time while I am still trying to recover from the hurt caused by the first.

Maybe this is a mistake...

But I don't have time to think on it long, because the public erupts into an even more deafening outburst as Christian appears with Madeleine on his arm.

"Look at her..." snips a voice from behind me. "Acting like she's Queen already."

I whip around in disbelief. "Olivia!"

The Duchess of Lythikos cuts her green eyes over at me with a derisive look. "Oh, don't look so surprised, Harper. Just because you are now a duchess, does not mean that the rest of us have taken early retirement."

"Trust me," I grumble under my breath, "this was not the plan."

"Opportunities multiply as they are seized," she replies sagely.

I quirk a brow at her. "Meaning?"

"Meaning," she expounds surly, "opportunity breeds opportunity. And only by exploiting every advantage will you uncover previously hidden gains. Do they not teach The Art of War inyour schools?"

"No..."

She scoffs under her breath. "Explains a lot."

I roll my eyes at her as Christian and Madeleine pause on the steps for photos and a couple of quick sound bites. "I guess this means your sabbatical was productive?"

"Exceedingly."

I heave a breath. "At least one of us is making progress..."

"Oh, don't sell yourself short," she counters out of the corner of her mouth. "Your recent advancements have served as a welcome distraction..."

"Not sure if that’s a compliment, or not..." I admit sourly.

"You have more power than you realise," she insists quietly. "Make sure you use it."

"Wow..." I mutter, glancing over at her in genuine surprise. "Friendly advice from the Scarlet Duchess? What else have you learnt during your time away?"

"Our interests are temporarily aligned, nothing more," she replies, shooting daggers across the lawn towards Madeleine. "And I'll fill you in shortly."

"Well, it's good to have you back, regardless," I say with a dip of my head. "Your Grace."

Olivia shoots me a sidelong look. "Don't get sentimental on me, Duchess."

But I can see the hint of a smile pulling at her lips.

Christian and Madeleine arrive at the edge of the trees. Stepping up to the row of waiting saplings, Christian pulls a stack of notecards out of his pocket and delivers a short speech to the click of the cameras.

As the mandatory applause dies down, he slots the pieces of paper carefully away... and pulls off his jacket.

"What are you doing?" hisses Madeleine as the crowd descends into a hubbub of excited reactions.

"Taking a leaf out of the Duchess of Valtoria's book," he replies, handing his jacket off to the closest shocked Councillor as he sets about rolling up his sleeves.

"Out of—!" Madeleine bristles in indignation, while trying to maintain an outwardly calm composure. "The only thing you have taken is leave of your senses! Now get back here and—!"

Ignoring his fiancée's outburst, Christian grabs the ribbon-bedecked shovel out of the hands of the footman that was holding it, and steps up to a clear patch of grass. Adjusting his grip on the handle, he digs the metal blade decisively into the ground to the accompanying slew of clicking camera shutters.

"Shall we?" asks Olivia with a sly smirk as she pushes her way to the front of the line of gawping nobles.

"Let's," I agree, instantly catching onto her plan.

"Lady Harper!" hisses Bertrand from behind me. "What do you think you're—?"

"Lending a hand to the King," I throw back over my shoulder as I step to the front of the row of aristos who are looking mutely onto the sight of their monarch working up an actual sweat before them.

Grabbing another shovel from the pile in the corner — these ones obviously having seen some honest work already, judging by the dirt encrusted on their faces — I join the King of Cordonia in enlarging the hole in the ground.

Because regardless of Christian's underlying motives for ennobling me, and whatever his broader game may be, what he is doing right now is bigger than me, bigger than him, bigger than any of us. And that deserves recognition. Especially when he is taking such active — and public — strides towards being the change he wants to see unfurl during his rule. Where the ruling class doesn't just offer empty platitudes and hollow ceremony, but actually practices what it preaches. So, what better way to do that, than by planting the seeds of change in front of thousands of people in the literal heart of the kingdom?

Christian rewards my arrival with a nod and a smile as I take up position next to him.

Hefting my shovel, I slice it into the earth that he's already uncovered, using the somewhat flimsy sole of my heeled sandals to drive it deeper.

Scooping the blade back out, I suddenly feel a presence to my left. Looking up, I see that Maxwell has also joined our impromptu work crew.

Throwing me a wink, he drops his shovel in next to mine.

With the three of us working on tandem, it takes us almost no time at all to dig out a hole large enough to house the new apple tree.

Wiping the sweat from my forehead — the weatherman had not lied, that's for sure! — I see that Olivia, with some assistance from Hana, has already prepared the sapling by shunting it closer to the hole and removing the burlap covering from its roots.

Laying down our shovels, we help her manoeuvre the tree to the edge of the dint. Cheers and applause rise up from the onlookers as the sapling thuds into the earth. Olivia uses one of the knives from her hidden arsenal to slice off the twines holding the branches together, and the tree unfurls itself with a satisfied snap.

"Your Majesty!" shouts a reporter, who I recognise as Frederick Capone. "One for the Cordonian Times, if you please!"

"And for the CBS!" adds Donald Brine, muscling his way to the front.

"Certainly," accedes Christian graciously, holding his arm out. "It was a group effort, after all."

We all gather in — sweaty and dirty, but smiling — as the press corps immortalises the scene...

...and I innocuously sweep my hair over my shoulder in a vain effort to try and hide any bruises that may have become uncovered as a result of the unplanned exertion.

"Thank you for joining me in my moment of impulsivity," Christian acknowledges softly as the bulbs flash.

"Please," scoffs Olivia out of the side of her mouth. "It was coordinated from the start."

"The people don't seem to mind," counters Hana with a demure smile as she faces the cameras.

"With the exception of about half-dozen," I note, glancing back at the disgruntled looks of the Councillors from behind us, as they try to save face by applauding our efforts together with the rest of the crowd.

"They'll fall in line." Christian assures me as he lifts his hand with a wave.

I feel a prick between my shoulder blades. Turning my head, I catch sight of the cold fire radiating out of Madeleine's gaze from behind the mask of her perfect smile.

"Maybe not everyone..." I mutter under my breath as I turn back towards the paps.

I'm already on Madeleine's shit list for daring to return to court after my very public humiliation and banishment. On the night of her engagement tour launch party, no less! So, the fact that I ended up upstaging her — again — probably means that I've sunk even further down the ladder of her estimations.

To what end, I have no idea. But I'm going to have to start being more careful from here on out.

Once the press are finally placated, we disperse across the lawn in search of some much-needed refreshments.

"Harper!"

I swallow a groan as I'm brought up short, mere steps from the freshly squeezed, rosemary-infused lemonade that I desperately need after toiling away in this heat. "What now, Bertrand...?"

"I... uhm..." He clears his throat as I turn to face him. "I wanted to apologise for my earlier outburst. It was unseemly... and in retrospect, short-sighted."

"What do you mean?" I ask with a frown. Bertrand very rarely — if ever! — apologised.

"The public reaction to the tree planting has been overwhelming," he clarifies, pulling his phone out.

My eyes bulge as I take in the view count on the screen. "A hundred thousand views already!"

"And counting," Bertrand adds. "And that is only one website."

"And look at the comments!" I exclaim, scrolling through the feed. "They're loving Maxwell as well!"

"Yes, it appears that my brother has a keener instinct for media relations than I do..."

"You should tell him that," I say. "It would mean the world to him."

Bertrand looks momentarily taken aback. "I... Well..." He clears his throat again. "Yes. Maybe I will. He deserves some recognition for his efforts in diverting — at least temporarily — the negative attention away from our financial predicaments."

"A simple hug and a 'thank-you' will do," I tell him with a knowing look.

Bertrand reels back in abject horror. "I will not subject my brother to such a sordid display of affection! Especially in public!"

I heave a sigh. "And there's your problem, right th—"

I trail off as I spot a familiar figure signalling to me from over Bertrand's shoulders.

"Excuse me," I say, palming Bertrand's phone back to him as I move towards one of the marquees that had been set up at the edge of the lawn.

Slipping inside the flap of the tent, I come face-to-face with Ana de Luca.

"Your Grace," she nods, dipping into a curtesy, something she hasn't deigned to do before. "Thank you for making the time."

"Ana," I nod in return, wondering why the influential editor of Trend chose to pull me away for a private meeting. Especially after I cornered her so forcefully at Madeleine's garden party a few days ago.

"I suppose congratulations are in order," she continues, straightening back up. "Since returning to court you have managed to elevate yourself not just in rank, but in the eyes of the public as well. Rolling your sleeves up in tandem with the King was a masterful piece of image enhancement."

"I didn't do it for myself," I reply evenly.

"Of course," she nods quickly. "We must all step in line with our new King. But your reputation is certainly reaping the benefits as well."

"As is your bottom line," I point out.

"Your initiative is markedly boosting sales of this month's special edition, as well as traffic to our website," she concedes. "For which Trend is very grateful. But that is not the reason I pulled you aside."

"What is it then?"

"I found out the name of the photographer," she replies, reaching into her handbag.

I feel my heart jump in my chest. "You're joking..."

She raises a brow at me from behind the lenses of her black-out Versace shades as she pulls a small flash-drive out. "I can assure you that I am not."

I quickly pull myself back together. "No. Of course not..."

Handing the drive over, she adds. "On there you will find all the pertinent information I was able to obtain through my own means."

"Thank you," I say sincerely, taking the piece of plastic from her. "I honestly was not expecting this..."

She shrugs an elegant shoulder. "I said I would look into it, so I did. It is not much, but I am sure you have people who can hopefully take it further."

"I do," I affirm, slotting the device into my clutch.

"After all," she adds with a knowing quirk to her lips. "You are not the only one with a vested interest in seeing your name cleared, Your Grace."

With another quick bob, she exits the marquee.

I let out a low exhale as the tent flap drops back into place in her wake. "Thank God..."

Some much-needed progress at last!

Hopefully, Drake can take the information from the drive and do a deep dive into the photographer to see if they ever crossed paths with whoever it is that has it in for me.

Which reminds me...

Opening my clutch up again, I pull my phone out and type up a quick message to my elusive boyfriend.

I haven't seen or heard from him since the event started. And now I have two pieces of critical information I need to share with him. So, rather than chasing after him like some damsel in distress, I'm going to make him come to me for a change. Because time is of the essence, and I don't want to wait.

Hitting send, I exit the tent and head back towards the orchard. I figure that since everyone is on the lawn, the secluded garden hidden amongst the trees will give me and Drake the best chance to meet in private, away from the prying eyes of the court and the press.

Slipping between the tree trunks, I try to make my way as casually as possible through the orchard, as if I am simply out for a walk, in order to ward off potential suspicion. But, as I drift further away from the Festival, I start to pick up the pace, mindful of the short timeframe I gave Drake... as well as the exposed roots on the ground.

Because as much as I might want to hurry, I definitely don't want — or need — a twisted ankle the day before we're due to start the international leg of the trip. As Mom was right — I should take advantage of the upcoming whirlwind tour of Europe to at least try and get some sightseeing in. As who knows when I'll get the chance to do this again...

...especially if I'm forced to become a hermit because we fail to expose the mastermind behind the press scandal.

I shake my head. No. I need to stay positive. It's the only way I'm going to get through—

"Competing with a herd of elephants, Gale?"

I snap my gaze up at the sound of Drake's voice... and nearly trip over a hidden apple lodged in the grass.

"You try sneaking ‘round in four-inch heels," I grumble back at him, while using the trunk of a nearby tree to steady myself.

He mutters something under his breath as he steps over to me with an outstretched hand. "Here."

Grabbing his hand, I navigate gingerly away from the tree, only to find that the slightly rotten fruit has become impaled on the end of my stiletto.

"Great..." I groan, trying to flick the stupid thing off... But it stays stubbornly stuck.

"You're a walking disaster, y'know that, right?" drawls Drake as he drops down in front of me.

"Ha-ha, funny," I snark back at him while trying to balance on one foot on the uneven ground.

He meets my eye with a wry look as he finally manages to pull the offending fruit off with a squelch. "You're only gripin' 'cause it's true."

"Yeah, well, not all of us have... reflexes... like Neo..." I reply sardonically as I save myself from tipping over by grabbing onto Drake's shoulder.

He stifles a scoff as he tosses the apple into the trees. "You good?"

"Yeah," I confirm, righting myself again and letting go of his shirt.

Drake regards me critically for a long moment — as if expecting me to keel over again at the drop of a hat — before pushing himself up.

"Thanks," I say, laying an appreciative hand on his arm.

The humour fades from his gaze at the contact.

"Drake..." I start...

...but he's already pulled away.

"What did you want to talk about?" he asks, not quite meeting my eyes as he slots his hands into his pockets, the momentary lightness of our previous interaction gone.

I heave a breath.

We really need to talk about what happened this morning. But his suddenly standoffish demeanour makes it clear that he's not quite ready for that yet.

So, I decide to start with something less contentious.

"We have a lead on the photographer," I tell him, reaching into my clutch.

His head perks up with interest. "That was fast."

"Teamwork makes the dream work," I agree with a smile, pulling the flash drive back out and holding it out to him.

His posture suddenly stiffens. "The hell is that?"

I glance around me uncertainly. "What?"

"The fucking ring on your finger," he declares dispassionately, his accusatory gaze scorching into my outstretched hand.

My heart drops. Oh, no...

This is not how I wanted to break it to him. But unfortunately for both of us, the cat has now ripped itself out of the proverbial bag, so I'm just going to have to scamper after it.

Taking a steadying inhale, I look him square in the eye. "It's my new signet ring." I turn my hand over to show it to him.

His face darkens. "Fils de pute de—" he grits under his breath, snapping a hand out to grab my wrist.

My eyes widen. "Drake, what are y—?"

A storm is raging in his espresso gaze. "Signet rings go on the little finger. On the right hand."

"Oh," is all I can manage as he swipes the golden band off my left ring finger.

"You didn't know, did you?" he asks softly, reaching for my other hand... more gently this time.

I shake my head with a constricted throat. "No, I—"

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

My head jerks ‘round at the sound of the unexpected voice. "Christian!"

"I see you couldn't resist a somewhat impulsive stroll through the orchards, either?" he asks, more rhetorically than anything else. "The scent of apples is truly luscious this time of year."

"Erm... yes...!" I manage to squeak out, shoving my right hand behind my back. "Smells like apple juice!"

Christian's brow quivers ever so slightly at my slightly random — and obviously unexpected — comparison.

But I'm too busy coordinating with Drake to get the signet ring shoved back onto my hand while trying to palm the flash drive off to him without dropping either in the process. As both outcomes would lead to some very awkward conversations!

I feel the warmth of the metal slide onto the index finger of my hand (Drake had probably ascertained that the circumference of the band was too large for my pinky), and I'm finally able to breathe a sigh of relief.

Embarrassing backpedaling, narrowly averted!

Drake uses the opportunity to extract the flash drive from my hand as well, dropping the device casually into his pocket as he moves beside me. "She ain't wrong."

"No," concedes Christian, eying the two of us for a second longer than strictly comfortable. "She rarely is."

"So, umm... Are you hiding from the paps as well?" I ask in a bid to diffuse the growing tension in the air.

"No, I came looking for you, actually," he corrects, taking a step forward. "I saw you slip into the orchard, and thought it prudent to follow you."

"Oh?" I say, feeling my stomach tighten again. "Worried I might get lost?"

"I was hoping to catch you alone," he corrects, coming to a stop in front of me.

I swallow tightly as I see him glance over at Drake.

Please don't fight... Please don't fight...

Christian's gaze reverts to me. "But I suppose it is convenient for Drake to happen to be here as well."

My heart skips an uncomfortable beat. "It is?"

"Yes," he affirms. "I have received some news that you'll both be interested in hearing."

"Well, don't keep us in damn suspense, then..." mutters Drake with a noticeable edge to his voice.

I try to reach discretely out to brush my fingers against his, to reassure him that come what may, we'll get through it together, that—

"We found Tariq."

Christian's words hit me like a kick to the chest. The breath explodes out of me so forcefully that I am actually forced to take a step back in a bid to maintain my balance as the apple trees descend into a spin around me.

No way...

"Where?"

Drake's voice floats across the edge of my awareness. And even in my spaced-out state, I can feel the weight of the cold, calculated fury infused into that single word.

No corner... No mercy.

"Dubai," replies Christian, who also sounds like he's miles away. "He—"

But Drake's already spun away. "Send me the coordinates."

"Harper?"

I blink up at Christian in a daze. "Huh?"

"Are you alright?" he asks, laying a concerned hand on my cheek. "You... You looked as if you were about to faint..."

"I..." I swallow past the sudden dryness in my throat. "I'm okay."

"Are you certain?" he presses, peering down at me. "I could ring for a doctor, and—"

"No," I insist, pulling away from him. "I'm fine. I... I guess I just got caught off-guard..."

"It is an unexpected development, certainly," he concedes. "But hopefully still a welcome one?"

"Yes!" I blurt out. "Of course! I want to clear my name more than anyone, and Tariq is key to that! I just..." My voice trails uncertainly off.

Christian flashes me a knowing half-smile. "Feel some trepidation about the prospect...?"

"I guess so," I concede, my fingers moving unconsciously to the horseshoe charm at my wrist.

Because as much as I may want Tariq to pay for what he did from a rational point of view, from an emotional standpoint, I’m terrified.

As even though I know in the back of my mind that a lot of my trepidation has to do with the fact that I am still trying to recover from the psychological trauma that Tariq inflicted on me, a major part of me is also scared of what setting the record straight would entail in practice.

Christian had mentioned that there were 'methods of persuasion' that could be used to force a confession from Tariq. But then what? Would I be made to very publicly relive the entire horrible episode in the form of TV spots and interviews, or would we be able to get by with one official press release? And given my spotty history with the press, will people actually believe my side of the story...?

I mean, Meghan and Harry didn’t exactly fare well in the court of public opinion when they tried to counter the official royal narrative...

On top of all that, in light of my very visceral reactions to returning to Applewood, I have no idea how I'm going to react to seeing Tariq in person again. Would I burst into tears? Have a nervous breakdown? Dissolve into a panic attack? Stab him in the gut and then the nuts?

And (possibly worst of all) what if we discover that Tariq had been acting alone? And his attack on me — while traumatising — is in no way connected to the larger, and definitely more dangerous plot to remove me from the running for Queen? What then...?

"Your qualms are not as misplaced as you may initially think," Christian consoles. "It is a daunting prospect to face the person who actively sought to harm you."

Something in his tone catches my attention. "What do you mean?"

Christian heaves a sigh. "I do not know if you are aware of this, but several years ago, I was the target of an assassination attempt."

I nod tightly. "Yes. Drake told me."

"Then I presume he also told you how deeply the experience affected me," he says, catching my eye with an uncharacteristically guarded look.

"Yes," I affirm, thinking back to the conversation in Olivia's wine cellar that felt like years ago.

"What he probably didn't tell you, however," he continues, "is that I visited the perpetrator in prison."

My jaw drops. "You what!"

"Not publicly and certainly not in any official capacity." He shakes his head wryly. "I did not even talk to the man."

"Then why...?"

"I... I was having trouble reconciling with what had happened," he explains. "And moving past it. The trauma councillor that I was working with suggested that it was perhaps because I was subconsciously endowing the gunman with too much power, and thereby transmuting the man into something more akin to an evil monster."

A shiver runs down my spine at Christian's words. It's like he's talking about Tariq...

"So, to help break the negative emotional associations I had built up, my councillor arranged a clandestine meeting where I would have the opportunity to face the man."

"How... How did that go?" I ask nervously.

"I was terrified, of course," Christian admits. "I had no idea what to expect and each scenario I imagined in my head was worse than the last. But, when I finally got into room where the meeting was to take place, I was surprised by what I saw. As rather than some hulking, shadowy fiend, it was a pale, somewhat diminutive man sat across from me."

"So… what did you do?"

"We simply sat at a table and stared at each other," he recounts. "He with more than a bit of contemptuous malice, I have to admit, but in that moment, I realised that he was a flesh-and-blood person who had fallen prey to the same misguided emotions as I — anger, fear, resentment — just manifested differently. And that helped set me onto the path of true healing. As ultimately, I was able to forgive him."

"Forgive him?" I gasp disbelievingly. "For trying to murder you?"

"Nobody acts in isolation," Christian advises calmly. "Even the most unconscionable horrors perpetrated by the villains of humanity — torture, mass murder, genocide — sprout from the basis of an emotional or psychological motivator such as love, fear, greed, jealousy... to name but a few. So, while we may disagree with and condemn the action retrospectively from the safety of the moral high-ground, it is very possible that had we found ourselves in a similar situation, we would end up being just as guilty as the person we are looking to condemn."

"So, what?" I demand testily. "I should feel sorry for Tariq for what he did to me?"

"Showing empathy and compassion towards our counterparts does not mean forgetting or excusing the harm suffered," counsels Christian. "But it will certainly allow you to start on the path of true healing."

I shake my head as I turn away. "I'm not sure Tariq deserves that..."

"It is by no means an easy assignment," he admits, laying a hand on my shoulder. "But even if you cannot find it in your heart presently to forgive him, do at least try to keep yourself open to the possibility down the line. You may be surprised by the results."

Looking up, I can see that there is sincerity welling on his emerald gaze. And — for once — I don't doubt the true intent of his words. "Thanks. I'll think about it."

"As diplomatic as ever," he smiles, the tips of his fingers brushing down my back as he drops his hand. "And, regardless of what you choose to do, I'll be right by your side to support you."

"Thanks," I mutter with what I hope is a genuine smile, suddenly acutely aware of the fact that with Drake’s abrupt departure, it’s just me and Christian amongst the trees. Taking a step back towards the way I’d come, I ask, "So, umm... How did you end up finding him?"

"Instagram," replies Christian with a wry chuckle as he falls into step beside me.

My head snaps up in bewilderment. "He posted his whereabouts?"

"No," he laughs, looping my arm through his in reassurance. "Not intentionally, at any rate. He took shelter on his cousin's yacht docked off the coast of the Palm Jumeirah, and—"

"What's that?" I ask with a frown.

"One of a trio of artificially constructed archipelagos located off the coast of Dubai," he explains. "They are so called for their shape, which resemble stylised palm trees."

"Sounds... fancy," I admit, while trying to maintain some semblance of platonic distance between the two of us.

"They really are a sight to behold," he affirms, pulling me back to his side. "But it is part of the reason why we were not able to locate him initially — we knew he has family in the Emirates, of course, but—"

"He does?" I interject in surprise. This is certainly news to me...!

"Yes," he nods. "His father is a Cordonian nobleman, but his mother hails from the House of Al Falasi, the branch of the Bani Yas tribe that also produced Dubai's ruling family."

My eyes widen. "So, his mom is royalty?"

"No," chuckles Christian. "She is not directly connected to the Al Maktoum dynasty. But her family is nevertheless influential in the region. Which is why when we hit a roadblock with the French authorities, we decided to focus our efforts on countries where we knew he had familial or business connections. The Emirates, however, boast a multitude of private airfields, not to mention water-based ports of entry, so attempting to narrow down Tariq’s possible time and method of arrival and determining where he went from there was providing to be a complex undertaking. Especially since we had to ensure to conduct our enquiries outside of the official channels."

"Specifically, via social media," I supply dryly.

"Yes," confirms Christian, only half jokingly. "When we realised that Tariq must have switched off or changed out his phone, Drake suggested that we set up a facial recognition-based search algorithm that could scour the various social media and news portals in a bid to help us pinpoint his exact location."

"That sounds... technical," I admit.

"A few years ago, it would have been, But the technology is relatively commonplace now, thankfully."

"So, you managed to get a hit?"

"Yes," he affirms. "One of his cousins on his mother's side posted a selfie featuring his new yacht a couple of days ago... and someone who partially matched Tariq's features was visible on the edge of the frame. But it wasn't until this morning that our man on the ground was able to obtain independent confirmation that it really was him."

"Wow..." I manage. "Talk about blind, dumb luck."

"Never underestimate the awesome power of serendipity," counsels Christian with a smile as we reach the edge of the trees again. "It certainly played a hand in crossing our paths."

I swallow nervously. "Yeah, I—"

"You have some nerve!"

Before I have a chance to realise what is happening, Madeleine has swooped in from seemingly out of nowhere to intercept us with all the wrathful precision of a homing missile.

"Ow!" I hiss, feeling the ends of her manicured nails sink into my arm as she wrenches me off Christian like I'm some kind of plague.

"One would think you would be grateful to His Majesty for his benevolent generosity in elevating your previously non-existent status to that of a duchess," she spits with barely disguised contempt as she pulls me nose-to-nose with her.

"Get off me!" I grit, trying to shake her loose.

"Madeleine..." interjects Christian from behind me in a voice that I only heard him use once before... in the hallway at Ramsford when he realised that Drake had brought me back to Cordonia. "You overstep."

But the Countess of Fydelia seems to hear neither of us as she tightens her claw-like hold on me. "Yet instead, you repay him by not only by hijacking a royal event to serve your own shameless self-aggrandisement—"

I shake my head in disbelief. "Wait... Wh—?"

"—but then you have the unmitigated gall—"

"Madeleine," says Christian again, more forcefully this time. "That is enough."

But Madeleine is oblivious to the quiet threat suffused into the sound of her name, choosing to continue her tirade instead, "—to sneak off into the bushes with my fiancé in order to do God-knows-what when he should be—"

"I said, enough!" snaps Christian, coming suddenly between Madeleine and me with a face of thunder.

The force of his command is loud enough to cause a few heads on the edge of the lawn to turn curiously towards us.

Even Madeleine startles somewhat in response to the uncharacteristically vehement order. But not enough to let go of me.

"Can you not see what she is doing?" she demands indignantly as she turns to face Christian. "Or does she have you wrapped so tightly around her finger that you cannot even—?"

"How I choose to spend my time with the Duchess of Valtoria in private is of no concern to you, Countess," interjects Christian bluntly. "Or do I need to remind you of the conditions of our engagement?"

Madeleine's alabaster cheeks flush scarlet. "No..."

"Then I strongly suggest that you unhand Lady Harper, and ensure that this kind of juvenile outburst does not happen again."

Madeleine's eyes blaze with cold fury. But she relinquishes her hold on me, nevertheless. "My apologies, Duchess..." she snips, her voice dripping with insincerity.

I reach up to rub the spot where her nails had been on the verge of puncturing my skin.

Bitch...

Christian nods tersely in approval. "Now that that is sorted, I believe our guests are waiting. Lady Madeleine, if you'd be so kind..."

Madeleine takes his arm with a look that could've killed. "Of course, Your Majesty."

"Lady Harper," acknowledges Christian with a dip of his head as he starts to steer his seething fiancée away.

Knowing that all eyes are still on us, I drop into a quick curtesy as they walk past, on one hand grateful to Christian for shutting Madeleine down, but on the other hand wondering how badly we kicked into a nest of hornets in the process.

As it is clear that Madeleine is still raging with jealous insecurity... Perhaps even more so than she had been back at her manor when she cornered me in the bathroom. And the fact that — despite the massive diamond on her finger — I now technically outrank her is definitely not helping the situation!

So much for making allies at court…

Blowing a wayward strand of hair out of my face, I turn back towards the festivities…

…only to be greeted by a wall of judgemental eyes, and more than a few camera lenses.

"Great..." I mutter under my breath.

Whether catching me with Christian had been the genuine straw that snapped Madeleine's cool, or whether she deliberately fabricated the showdown to undermine the positive reactions I got from the press earlier, the end result is the same...

I'm going to be on the front page tomorrow. Again.

Exactly in what form, I have no idea. But I've been at court long enough now to know that the whole thing will be blown completely out of proportion, and the resulting story will generate even more press frenzy.

But if there’s one thing that Drake has taught me, it’s that I cannot allow myself to give the aristos the satisfaction of ever thinking that they’ve managed to squash me into the dirt. Because that would undermine the entire reason why I came back to court in the first place, and given how close we now are to claiming back the truth, it would be a massive and premature admission of defeat.

So, raising my chin defiantly, I make my way back across the lawn to rejoin the remainder of the Festival.

The story continues in Chapter 17 - News Flash

Permatags

@twinkleallnight @lovingchoices14 @kingliam2019 @petiteboheme @angelasscribbles @aussiegurl1234 @nestledonthaveone @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @tessa-liam @alyshak92 @secretaryunpaid @princessleac1 @walkerdrakewalker @tinkie1973 @twinkle-320 @knaussal @nikkis1983 @lunaseasblog @ficloverevie @indiana-jr @differenttyphoonwerewolf @kristinamae093 @eversoaringqueen12 @peonierose @3pawandme @alexabeta @veebug8 @fanfiction-she-wrote @queenmiarys @lancelotsimp @coco-lina-s @lolablackwrites @ivyflowers13 @persephone13 @hollygirl1269 @adri-ja-96 @harleybeaumont @katedrakeohd @uneravine @alj4890 @choicesficwriterscreations

(Less Than) Noble Intentions only (let me know if you want to be added!)

@thetruthisthatiloveyou @anakjaybon-blog

#harper gale #drake walker #the royal romance #less than noble intentions #king liam #maxwell beaumont #bertrand beaumont #olivia nevrakis #trr fanfic #cfwc fics of the week #choices fic writers creations #choicesmonthlychallenge #choicesjanuary2024 #Spotify

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pinespittinink · 24 days

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🌿 pinespittinink reintro 🌿

hello and welcome to my blog 💌 i'm easing myself back into writeblr and hope to meet some new people and continue to vibe as i always have on here. this is not my main blog, so while i may follow you, it won't be from this account. i don't follow or engage with minors; all my work is adult and queernorm unless otherwise indicated.

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a little bit about me: catherine ~ she/her ~ capricorn ~ pan & poly ~ 28 ~ 18+ only ➡ about page ⬅

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i've been around here sporadically since 2018 and always tend to come home; i like prompts and ask games and tags and fun things. i write love stories in sci-fi and fantasy settings, and i'm working towards traditional publishing always. currently i'm querying my adult fantasy standalone, The Great Glavenisean Theater (The Night Circus x House of Leaves). i enjoy writing nsfw content, lush scene setting, and detailed emotional headspaces.

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🖋 my wips 🖋

the great glavenisean theater 🎭 {wip intro} {general tag} spec fic/fantasy standalone. a tailor goes to the big city and gets swept up by a phantasmagorical theater with an interdimensional portal in the stage, gets a crush on a cute guy working the rigging, and maybe starts to lose his mind as shit gets Weird™️

in the deep of the trees 🍃 {wip intro} {general tag} high fantasy, romantic subplot, standalone. (bi4bi otp). a social-climber uses subterfuge, blackmail, and murder to achieve his ambitions, and the court eccentric that he's in love with gets weirder and weirder when a new discovery is brought back by an exploration team.

star white 🌟 {wip intro} {general tag} romantic space fantasy, standalone. (gay otp) one man searches for the love of his life after he's been abducted by sentient dark matter, and spends millions of years travelling through space with a semi-organic AI ship.

solene's verse 🌊 epic fantasy, duology. (t4t otp) a young self-taught wizard makes a ton of bad decisions, as a group of ragtag youths from the cesspit of the world try to rescue the elder brother of one of their own from a tower of cultists.

the revenant (working title) dark fantasy, duology(???? who knows). a one-woman-war-machine who cannot die fights alongside her childhood best friend and lover and their loyal band of vagabonds to bring down the corrupt royalty desecrating their kingdom

the wasteland (working title) weird spec fic/dark fantasy, novella. a lousy hot-tempered fire elemental and a shitty light necromancer embark on the world's worst walking roadtrip to a castle on the wasteland falling away at their feet.

[odyssey solomon's wip - mad max fury road x the road x the locked tomb, post-apocalyptic fantasy. father and son against the world plus a weird shapeshifting bitch]

[gentle poly cathedral wip - romantic fantasy, novella. gargoyles and psalms and stained glass, my beloveds]

[soft poly space wip - romantic sci-fi, duology. androids and black holes and librarians, oh my!]

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🎐tag guide🎐

my writing 🌸 my edits 🌸 my poetry 🌸 sap spill 🌸 {original text posts, not always writing related} uwu romance 🌸 {umbrella tag for everything love and romance related} trope talk🌸 {umbrella tag. overlaps often with uwu romance} character work🌸 {what it says on the tin} compilations🌸 {tumblr web weaving posts} i live here🌸 {stuff i jive with on a molecular level}

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[ Romantic and indulgent prose full of filigree, worlds full of whimsy, mystery and a hint of danger, a core of tenderness rooted at the heart of every story. Your writing is always penned in the manner of a love letter not just to the craft or even as an ode to romance but to the subject of love in itself. ] – @aninkwellofnectar 🌹

“for whom / and to whom all this love, / all this light falling.”

–@ragewrites, Film Still, for pinespittinink.

#writeblr #writeblr intro #writeblr community #writers on tumblr #writeblr reintro #this is doubling as my new pinned post #*waves shyly*#sap spill

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thevalkyriesshadow · 26 days

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New chapter of Thirty Moments Tell A Story is up on AO3!

✨️ Read it here! ✨️

Story Summary:

How could thirty moments in the lives of two warriors tell a tale of friends to lovers? From holding hands to ruthless competition; from patching each other up to their first major argument.

These are thirty moments that tell Gwyn and Azriel's story.

AKA my version of a 30 Day OTP Challenge. I won't be updating daily, but maybe every few days or every week.

Chapter Summary: Needing Each Other

A tribe of Orcs are paving a path of destruction across the solar courts. The Valkyries are sent to disban them.

TW: mentions of war/blood/gore

#gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #acotar #pro gwynriel #azriel #gwyn x azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x gwyn #acotar fanfiction #gwynriel fanfiction #fanficiton #fanfic

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perverse-idyll · 6 months

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HP Rec Fest Day 2

@hprecfest - Theme: a comfort fic

These are all fics I have read many, many times. Not only for comfort, but to have my heart wrung, to bask in the sheer fucking delight of writers who know how to use language and address the incomplete promises of characters glimpsed during their moments of plot utility. They make me happy, these stories. Oh, they hurt me along the way, of course, because I'm drawn so far in, so absorbed. I love that kind of immersion, and the pleasure of knowing a story so well. And these particular stories never lose their aesthetic thrill or the experience of the emotional journey. They're cathartic, though not flamboyantly so. I come back to them because they make me love these characters over and over again. And then I end up loving the authors, too.

Father to the Man by Delphi, Snape/Filch, 20,231 words.

I adore all of Delphi's Snape/Filch, but this is the one that gives the most comfort. It's a surgically precise, poignant, often witty, unerringly aware portrait of young Professor Snape making yet another mistake by yet again doing something he shouldn't be, thus hoicking his five-year-old self from the past into the present. That wasn't Severus' intention, and he's not happy to have this walking, talking, aggravating, bed-wetting reminder of his own abused innocence and embarrassing ignorance underfoot. Fortunately, Filch is there to save Snape from himself (literally, although he can't prevent one punishing trip to an abandoned Spinner's End). When it becomes clear the boy can't be sent back, Severus makes a decision that is both selfish and self-denying, a special kind of altruism (you'll see what I mean). And then Delphi, always scrupulous in how they weigh Snape's guilt, for once chooses hope over canon. And in a story about, among other things, forgiving oneself, that is absolutely the loveliest gift.

2. Consanguinity Arc by Jay Tryfanstone, Snarry, two short preludes and one main fic amounting to 24,351 words.

Oh, I love outsider POV, especially when the focus is my OTP. I love Muggles having to make sense of magical people, and wizards behaving like weirdos - ominous weirdos when viewed through a nonmagical lens - especially Snape and Harry, who in this fic are forced to unravel their issues in front of various captive audiences (therapist, lawyer, divorce court - all Muggle). (Imagine being Snape's solicitor!) The characterizations stand aslant to canon, which in this case makes them fascinating and adds to the sense of alienation from known things. Tryfanstone is one of those writers who can make characters and emotions spring fully to life, sparingly told but with the perfect detail. And again, wit! The courtroom scenes crackle. Snape and Harry spar, Snape and the therapist have a contest of wills (guess who wins), and the shadows of war and death and forgiveness that loom in the background build to a finish in which erotic sparks fly. This fic has one of my favorite concluding scenes in all of Snarrydom, brief but explosive, a hot, hilarious, breathtaking release.

3. Rapture by @mia-ugly, Snarry, 48,123 glorious words.

Rapture probably doesn't need a lot of introduction among Snarry readers, but it's been a beloved comfort fic of mine since it was first posted. The prose is beautiful, a cross between poetic and urgent, with spot-on humor for extra flavor (who can forget Severus' horrible aunt?). Harry time-travels at the whim of a pocket watch, unable to control it and with no ability to warn Severus of his impending fate. They meet on Severus' 25th birthday, when he's drunk and damaged and unprepared for kindness. Between one moment and the next, Harry's gone, and Severus is left to fall in love with a young man who keeps reappearing in his life without rhyme or reason and then leaving again. The story is, against all odds (it's Snarry, after all), devastatingly romantic, lyrical not only in words but in spirit, with Severus' recurring grief and angry, desperate heart on the one hand, and Harry's desire to love and save him on the other, twisting all the way through the narrative to the remarkable end, which steps outside the lines of storytelling and speaks, I think, for a lot of Snarry fans at that moment in time. I will always feel my heart being wrenched the same way it was when I first read this fic, but it's a welcome pain precisely because it's so beautiful.

#hprecfest2023 #comfort fics #snape/filch #snape/harry

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smallfrenchstudyblr · 17 days

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"International Criminal Court delivered Arrest Warrants for-"

Hello let me stop you right there, as of May 25th 2024 this ICC did not deliver any arrest warrant.

Friendly local lawyer breaking down what's happening because your local TV channel will not break down what is happening, and it's a bit too complicated to be tweet-sized. And if I read one more time "ICC ISSUES WARRANTS" or "ICC SEEKS WARRANT" I will actually start slapping people with the Rome Statute

And I am just giving a breakdown of the procedure, ok, this is not a politics blog, I am just a jurist always very mad at how bad communication about (international) law is online. Consider this your "ICC procedure 101" so you can tell your weird relative to shut up about things they don't understand and back it up with facts.

Here is the basic information you need to know:

The International Criminal Court is different from the International Court of Justice.

The International Criminal Court is a complex structure, but what matters right now is this: it has an Office of the Prosecutor, and then it has the Chambers: pre-trial Chambers, trial Chambers, Appeals chamber .

The International Criminal Court deals with non-state actors, ie people [as far as I know, it does not deal with organisations or non-flesh-and-bones-entities?], and handles entire "situations", ie it can end up charging and convicting both sides of a conflict.

It deals with crimes of atrocities, which include three categories (genocide, war crimes, and crimes against humanity).

Ok? Ok cool. So now about these arrest warrants. Broadly speaking, the decision procedure goes:

Office of the Prosecutor conducts the Preliminary Investigation

Office of the Prosecutor conducts investigation, which can include applying for Arrest Warrants for suspects.

Pre-trial Chamber decides whether to issue that Arrest Warrant or not.

Arrest Warrant is issues (or not).

Right now, we are at phase 2: The Office of the Prosecutor, with a panel of experts, delivered a report and an official application for Arrest Warrant for multiple officials/high-ranking decision-makers on both sides. THIS is what you are hearing about [because frankly the OTP took its sweet ass time before actually delivering them, may we one day know why. They might ave a good reason, they might have none].

The report in question is easy to read in that it is not full of jargon or legalese - it is plain English, so you can read it, but note that it does deal with very difficult topics, as tactfully as it can.

We now have to wait for the pre-trial chamber to decide whether to issue the warrants or not. Might take weeks. Might take months. Once that's done, procedure will continue. And the next step is NOT "trial" - there are still additional steps.

Being said that, it IS huge, on at least 39 different legal and political aspects, none of which I have the energy to unpack here, but yeah. This it is, this is my contribution to the state of knowledge on Tumblr.hell

#friendly neighbourhood lawyer is here to scream into the void about international law #begging for 5 minutes of your attention to understand what is happening #also because it helps better understand why things take time #and what expectation we can reasonably have!#askbox is super timidly open for question #like barely open so you can enter very gently

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teableeds · 3 months

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As a Hetalia fan, I can’t defend us from the “problematic” accusations. I’m reading a Supreme Court opinion for work and in the back of my mind I’m thinking about the lore of my ship. I see the words “Civil War” and my cringe high school OTP rises from the depths.

#out of tea.

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hauntedheroines · 1 year

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Berserk and the Villain/Hero ship

I’ve just finished watching Berserk on Netflix and read spoilers for the manga.

Honestly, to me Griffith/Guts is way more than subtext. Male villain/male hero is not even my favorite thing, but there were some tropes which I think are delicious:

Used to be friends

Dragging you to the gutter with me

The Queen King and her his Champion

Roaring Rampage of Romance

Also some parallels to other OTPs:

Naraku/Kikyo: Can’t admit his love yet keeps doing everything to possess or kill the object of his affection. Allows his crippled body to be taken by demons, keeping his ambition, but (supposedly) taking away his basic emotions. Guts reflects that, by then, Griffith/Femton will never be satisfied with anything he wins, because winning had become his only drive and he will always want more. Griffith/Femton’s dream is unable to fill the void left by the lost of his humanity. Even though he claims his feelings are gone, he can’t bring himself to kill Guts .

Jaime/Cersei: Guts served as his weapon and shield, fighting and committing crimes on Griffith’s name, but the moment he desires to become his own person, Griffith loses his mind. Which could have been avoided if Griffith could have been a little more honest with himself about needing someone or something besides power, and climbing down his pedestal for someone once.

Buffy/Angelus: Griffith loses his soul and does sadistic things to Guts due to his complex feelings and motivation: revenge against Guts for distracting him from his dream, for leaving him, ways to assert possessiveness over Guts or to assert emotions no longer detain him from anything, not even hurting Guts.

Henry/Abby (Harper’s Island): Griffith has a dream that drives his every choice and he never thought Guts might not be included in it until his rejection. After he leaves, Griffith has a torturous time in his hand to reflect on what the pursuit of his dream has cost him and what is the price yet to be paid by him and by Guts. The price is sacrificing their friends, and Guts can’t understand how Griffith could have betrayed everyone that stood by him, how can anyone be so cold. The others were just a means to an end - Guts was his only friend, and his true love.

Alina/Darkling: He inspires fear in his enemies and loyalty on his followers. Alina was eager to win his approval before his betrayal. He believes no one could be his equal except for her.

Could there have been more scenes developing their “friendship” before their separation? Definitely. If I could go back, I’d skip the pointless war and court schemes from episode to 8 to 18 (maybe watch episode 12 for backstory).

Nonetheless, it was a gay v/h that for once feels rather tragic, and not just sexual. For instance, watching episode 7 “The Sword Master” I honestly thought and still believe it was a reciprocate gay desire back then, though Guts didn’t quite fully grasp it.

He moves to Casca because it’s the obvious choice - because she is a woman, definitely, but also because she is emotionally available to him in a way Griffith never was. He never displayed vulnerability to Guts, and only becomes aware of his own after losing him. Guts even listens to Griffith claim that he doesn’t see them as equals. In between his dream and Guts, Guts would always come second to Griffith - at least so they believed to be true then. Princess Charlotte was Griffith‘s fastest and easiest way to power. Griffith had no future to offer Guts.

Right now I’m reading analysis by bthump, so make sure you check her out for a deeper understanding of the ship.

#Guts x Griffith #Dragging You to the Gutter with Me #Berserk #Griffith x Guts #Ho Yay #Anime and manga #Villain x Hero #Used to be friends #The Queen and her Champion #Roaring Rampage of Romance

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loregoddess · 3 months

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001 Wrightworth and 002 your girl Anna Pascal from TriStrat!

wrightworth (the most ship duo of all AA):

when I started shipping it if I did: I guess after I watched the first game? No that's not quite right, more like after I finished watching the second game. I was like, "Ah, I understand why this is a popular ship now" after the first and then was like, "Yeah this tracks" after the second.

my thoughts: Wholesome ship, I totally get the appeal (the ship's actually a QPR in my fleet, but I'm not bothered by others shipping romantic wrightworth at all)

What makes me happy about them: I dunno, the dynamic works so well. Phoenix and Edgeworth saved each other, they believe in each other, they're always there for each other--they're just a feel good sort of duo for me.

What makes me sad about them: Nothing really? I mean, sure the entirety of the second game is a low point in their relationship, but it's also so interesting from a writing perspective because like, these two would not have gone into the future games with the bond of trust they eventually come to share w/out the events of the second game so like *gestures wildly*. I know a lot of fans headcanon/theorize that the time between 3 and 4 was also a rougher time (although I have my own set of headcanons/theories about this blank timeframe), but again, there's something about weathering the tough times together and coming out stronger that I enjoy seeing in any sort of fictional relationship arcs.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: Hmm, I don't think I have really any other ships for either of them outside of the main one. They have great platonic dynamics with a lot of characters, but nothing that my brain goes "ah, a QPR or romantic relationship!" about

My happily ever after for them: Retired, living together, supporting Trucy's career, tending a nice small house and rewatching Steel Samurai while giving advice to the younger lawyers in their spare time. Probably show up to guest lecture at Themis more often than not, do mock trials for the students there.

who is the big spoon/little spoon: They take turns, but Phoenix likes being the big spoon more often than not.

what is their favorite non-sexual activity: Binge-watching Steel Samurai, Edgeworth critiquing the spinoffs while Phoenix plays devil's advocate as a joke, although probably they have little mock court battles for the silliest things. I headcanon Phoenix as an ex-theater/vis. arts double major and Edgeworth had a "formal" upbringing, so sometimes they go to galleries or live theater performances too (silly little discussions about the art/shows they see like, ALL the time).

Anna Pascal (my girl...):

How I feel about this character: Love her, love her, lover her. My MVP who was first to hit the lv. 30 cap bc I used her so often in battle, but also just one of my overall favorite characters in the story.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Uhhhh..................actually no one, now that I'm thinking about it? I know Milo x Anna is somewhat popular (as popular as can be in a teeny tiny fandom like TriStrat), but I see them more as enemies to weird coworkers. Although when I realized that both Anna and Avlora were orphaned by the same war, part of my brain wondered what it would be like if they talked/interacted and stuff, and that sort of "what if they talked" question once led to a crackship for a different game, so who knows. If my TriStrat obsession comes back maybe Anna x Avlora will turn from a "wonder what would happen..." to full "welp, guess I have a weird ship now"

My non-romantic OTP for this character: I think Anna has a good relationship with all or most of the House Wolffort people. Obviously her weird familial relationship with Benedict is of endless fascination to me, and I think she has something of a familial relationship with Erador and Archibald as well. I think she gets along very well with Serenoa (and eventually Frederica and Geela) too. Weird coworker with Milo, but the two eventually become weird friends. Accidental mentor figure to Trish and Rudolph and is so confused by this. Accidental parental figure to Decimal. Accidental older familial figure to Quahuag, and he still visits her even after being reunited with his mom. Not entirely sure how she ended up with the giant found family, but isn't complaining.

My unpopular opinion about this character: Honestly I dunno if I have any? Small fandoms sometimes mean there is no "wildly popular" opinions or headcanons to actually go against, because everyone is doing their own thing while also being respectful of their fellow fans, and that's how the TriStrat fandom feels on this site at least.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I want to see Anna's conversation with Benedict after her second character story so badly (I still have not played/watched the extra story that got released, so for all I know she does talk with Benedict finally, but until I do play the extra story I'm to sit here and wonder about her weird and wild familial situation in silence).

my OTP: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

a headcanon: I think Anna is very good with children, and probably helped take care of all the kids Serenoa took in during the war. Wildly popular with all the kids in the Wolffort demense. Acted as something of a babysitter, sort of older sister figure to Serenoa as he was growing up. Is a bit baffled by the fact that even teens who are Going Through It (re: Trish and Ridolph) gravitate towards her and think she's cool. Also, I think she got the scar on her face falling out of a tree when she was a kid, but refuses to tell anyone who doesn't already know about the scar's origin, because she knows it makes her look more intimidating and she wants that edge as the official Wolffort spy. Also, also bc I actually have a lot of headcanons, I also think she gets mistaken as younger than she is like, constantly. Partly because she is Very Short, and partly because she has the "age well" genetics. Milo simply did not believe they were almost the same age when Anna finally told her, and it took everyone who knew Anna when she was a kid to confirm that she is in fact in her early 30s. Trish and Rudolph switched from "oh, we're the same" to "holy shit, teach us your ways" as soon as they figured out Anna was not an older teen or early 20s-adult, which was slightly better than the two of them thinking Anna was also a delinquent since they respect her even more now, but she's still a bit ?? about the development.

#I started getting sleepy as I was writing this so sorry if there's weird typos #anyhow don't be fooled by me not talking TriStrat I still love it Lots and Lots and Lots #I also love AA lots but I'm still recovering from burnout I suffered about it so I'm still not quite as energetic as I once was about it #anyhow fictional characters my beloveds ~ <3 #alynnl #I still don't have an ask tag #ask game

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karahalloway · 1 month

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(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 20 - Steal Me Away

Fandom: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

Chapter Summary: Drake is back... but that doesn't mean that it's a happy reunion...

Word Count: 4,300

Rating/Warnings: M (shouting, guilt-tripping, dangerous driving, swearing in multiple languages, one over-heated kiss)

Chapter theme song:

Chapter 20 - Steal Me Away

I whirl around in disbelief. "Drake...!"

He's stood before me with two days' worth of stubble, regarding me with a long-suffering look.

But it really is him.

And I feel my heart swell, even though I can tell that he's not exactly best pleased to find me in a random antique shop in the middle of Rome.

The muscle in his jaw twitches. "I turn my back for one goddamn minute and—"

"What are you doing here?" I blurt.

"I can ask the same of you, Gale..." he counters, folding his arms over his chest. "Because this sure as shit ain't no bridal boutique."

My chin lifts on its own accord. "I decided to make a detour."

"Jesus fucking—" He rakes his hand through his hair. "Did you leave your brain in a ditch somewhere in the process?"

My eyes widen. "Wha—! No! I—"

"The city is crawling with paps!" he almost shouts, jabbing a finger towards the door. "Who are looking for any excuse to make a meal out of you! Did you not think for one second that—?"

"What?" I counter heatedly, stepping up to him. "That I should cower and hide instead, like I'm to blame for it all? I told you — I refuse to let these people—"

"Well, it would've been a damn sight better than making me chase you across half the fucking city!"

"Why were you even chasing after me?" I demand, my own ire flaring. "You're supposed to be in Dubai!"

"Been there, done that, got the jet lag to prove it," he hits back sarcastically. "But just because I'm gone doesn't mean you suddenly have carte blanche to fuck off on your own."

"Says the person who walked off without so much as a 'see you later'..."

His mouth hardens. "I didn't want to—"

"Also, I'm not on my own," I continue testily. "Allard and Schweitzer—"

"—are fucking fired," he cuts in, suddenly darkened mocha eyes flashing. "They should never have—"

"Ch'è qualche problema?"

"No!" Drake and I snap in unison.

The old man falls mute before muttering something disparaging under his breath.

I continue staring at Drake, heart thumping and chest heaving in the wake of our dust-up.

He glares back unblinkingly, jaw clenched as the tension rolls off him in palatable waves.

I reach up to adjust the strap of my tote indignantly. "So much for trusting each other, huh, Walker?"

"Dammit, Gale," he growls. "That's not what—"

Grabbing the wrapped box off the counter, I stomp past him without a backwards glance. "See you back at the embassy."

He has some nerve, showing up out of the blue t—

I barely make it two steps before he's grabbed me by the arm.

I open my mouth to retort...

...but I'm not given a chance to get a word in edgeways, because in the next instant, he's slammed me against his chest, laying claim to my mouth with a ferocity that's on the verge of being savage.

The fight whooshes out of me as my arms fly up to wrap themselves 'round his neck, even as I feel his fingers dig against the soft cotton of my dress, pulling me to him like a long-lost ship to anchor.

"Christ, girl," he growls against my lips. "You send me off the edge of reason..."

"I'm... sorry..." I gasp, clinging to him helplessly as he trails down the line of my jaw. "I didn't mean to—"

"Ah... l'amore... non è bello se non è litigarello."

Drake starts as he gets clapped roundly on the back.

Peeking up, I see the shopkeeper smirking at us conspiratorially as he ambles past.

"Err... Sì," coughs Drake, pulling back from me. "Sto certamente imparando che a mio spese..."

The man laughs in response. "Non capita a tutti?"

"You speak Italian?" I gawp, feeling a flush creep up my cheeks as the old man throws us a wink over his shoulder.

"Uh... Yeah..." Drake mutters, running his hand over the back of his head somewhat sheepishly. "With Bast."

"Oh." I glance between him and the old man. "What did he say?"

"An old proverb," Drake says, looking just as embarrassed as I am feeling about the fact that we'd inadvertently let our dirty laundry rip in the company of a complete stranger. "Love is not beautiful if it does not quarrel."

My cheeks redden further. "I-I see..."

"It's kind of a compliment..." he admits, shooting a sidelong glance over at the man, who's now busy dusting some shelves. "But we should probably get out of his hair."

"Definitely...!" I chirp, diving towards the saving grace of the exit.

"Err... La saluto," offers Drake on his way out. "E scusi il disturbo..."

"Eh!" comes the scoffed response. "Chi non risica non rosica. Ma è meglio stare attenti con lei! Donna buona – vale una corona."

"Lo so..."

"Everything alright?" I ask as Drake joins me on the baking pavement.

"Yeah," he assures me, not quite meeting my eye. "Just giving his two cents..."

Something flashes across his face, too fast for me to read.

But before I can ask him about it, he's already marching me across the square.

"What about Allard and Schweitzer?" I protest, trying to squint behind me as Drake navigates us 'round the incessant stream of sightseers. "Are they—?"

"I sent them back to the embassy," Drake replies, yanking me back as a pair of kids dart out in front of me.

"You didn't actually fire them, did you?" I gasp.

"Sure as hell thinking about it," he mutters, moving us forward again.

"If it's any consolation, they did try to talk me out of coming out here..."

"Clearly not hard enough."

"I can be very persuasive when I want to be," I remind him.

He lets out a low breath. "Don't I fuckin' know it..."

"Look," I say, coming to a stop and turning to face him. "I get you're pissed—"

"That's putting it mildly."

"—but don't take it out on Allard and Schweitzer," I tell him flatly. "They didn't do anything wrong... and I actually get along with them."

He holds my gaze for a long time before answering. "They're not your friends, Gale."

"Maybe not in any conventional sense," I admit. "But getting me a security detail had been your idea, Walker. And I know I was against it initially, but Allard and Schweitzer have been able to be there for me when you haven't."

His mouth hardens.

"And I know that grates you," I continue quickly, before he can cut me off again. "But we knew from the start that this was going to be the case, so if you do need to leave, then I'd prefer to be left with people I can trust. And I trust Allard and Schweitzer — with my life. Which is actually saying a lot."

He holds my gaze for what feels like a full minute before answering. "I'll think about it."

"That's it?" I demand in disbelief as he grabs my wrist to pull me after him again. "After all that, you're just going t—?"

"I said I'll think about it."

I glare at his back. "You're a dick."

He rounds on me like a wolf. "I'm a fuckin' realist. And the reality is that Allard and Schweitzer messed up. Big time. And I don't care how much you like them, or how many times you've braided each other's hair—"

My eyes narrow. "That's not—"

"—because none of that fucking matters out here! What matters — the only goddamn thing that matters — is keeping you safe. From the paps, from the aristos, even from your ownfucking self, if you're about to do something stupid. And at that, they've unquestionably failed. So, no. I'm not about to cut them a break. Especially not on your say-so. Because the stakes are too fucking real, and I'm not gonna let anyone play dice with your life. Least of all the people whose one job is to look out for you. Got it?"

I force myself to blink back the sudden tears in my eyes. "Yeah..."

"Good," he grunts. "Now get on."

Glancing past Drake, I spot what is very literally the last thing I'd expect to see him with.

I scoff up at him. "In your dreams, bud."

"Gale," he warns, reaching for one of the helmets that's hanging from the black and white moped's frame. "I'm not in the fucking m—"

"Well, neither am I," I hit back tersely. "So, you can take that deathtrap of a Vespa and shove it."

"First off," he counters, tossing the helmet at me. "It's a Piaggio. Second, the only reason I had to resort to this is because you decided to bail."

I catch the helmet irately. "So, you're saying that this is my fault?"

"Damn right, it is," he confirms, extracting a second helmet from the storage compartment nestled beneath the seat. "It's got all of 50cc so it's underpowered as fuck."

"Then why the heck did you get it!"

"Because it's the fastest way to get around the city."

I snort at him. "You mean, it's the fastest way to get into an accident..."

He prays for deliverance under his breath. "Gale, for the love of Christ, will you just—?"

"No," I declare, folding my arms. "The last time you conned me onto the back of your motorbike, I literally thought I was going to die. And after seeing how everyone in Rome drives, I have no interest in—"

"You drive, then."

Drake's unexpected offer pulls me up short. "Wait. What?"

He pulls a set of keys from his pocket. "It's a one-time offer, Gale. Either you take the wheel, or I do. But you've gettin' your ass on this sorry excuse of a bike, one way or another."

"I..." I swallow thickly. "I don't know how..."

"I'll walk you through it," he assures me. "There ain't much to it."

"Somehow I doubt that..."

"Clock's tickin', girl..."

I heave a breath before shoving my head into my helmet. "Okay, fine. I'll do it."

"Figured you would," he murmurs, holding the keys up. "You know where these go?"

"Up your ass," I retort, snatching the keychain from his hands.

The corner of his mouth twitches — whether in amusement or annoyance, I can't tell.

Not that I really care. I can be a jerk, too. But, I figure that at least with me driving, we won't rack up any speeding tickets or near misses on our way back to the Cordonian embassy, which is where we are staying for the two nights that we are in Rome for.

Walking up to the moped — admittedly with more swagger than I'm actually feeling at this moment — I grab the handlebars and swing my leg over the middle of the frame.

After a quick inspection, I locate the ignition switch and slot the key in.

But before I have a chance to try and turn the engine on, Drake's hand appears in my line of sight.

Reaching between my legs, he opens a hidden compartment in the frame. "For your bag."

"Oh," I say in genuine surprise, taking my bag off so I can tuck it away. "That is actually kind of neat."

"Last thing we need is for you to lose your stuff..." he drawls, shutting the glove box back up.

As he straightens again, his arm brushes the bare skin of my knee. And despite (or maybe because of) the unresolved tension shimmering between us in the wake of our heated reunion, I can't help but feel a familiar zap of electricity course through my nerves at the inadvertent contact.

"No kidding..." I concede, somewhat hoarsely. Clearing my throat, I add, "So... umm, what's next?"

"Grab the break and turn the key over as far as it'll go."

"So, kind of like a car," I surmise, following the instructions. "Why isn't it starting?"

"Because you only turned the electronics on," Drake advises. "To kick the engine off, you need to disengage the kick stand, and then press the start button."

"Jesus Christ, this is complicated..." I grumble as I scoot off the seat so I can try to figure out how to do what he just said.

"No more complicated than sailing a yacht," Drake counters, watching my antics from the safety of the pavement. "Just give it a shove ."

"How will that—?"

"It's got a rear-mounted kickstand," he says. "You disengage it by rolling the bike forward."

"Right," I grumble, feeling like a total idiot. "Because that's so obvious."

Maybe I should've let Drake drive, after all...

"You still holding the break?"

I snap my head up as I give the handlebars a hard push. "Huh?"

A squeal erupts from my mouth as the moped suddenly lurches forward beneath me, and I have a moment of sheer panic as I wrestle with the hunk of metal to keep from crashing to the ground.

"I told you to hold the break..."

"You could've been more specific!"

He lets out a low breath. "You good?"

"Yeah," I huff, finally managing to find some semblance of balance with an uncooperative moped stuck between my legs.

"Turn her on, then."

I scan the buttons in front of me. "Err..."

"The one by your right thumb."

Shifting my grip, I extend my thumb out to press the button...

"You still holdin' the break?" Drake asks.

I quickly tighten my hold on the left-side break. "Yes."

Drake eyes me unconvincedly. "Just checking..."

I stick my tongue out at him.

"Hey," he objects. "You're the one who wanted to do this, Gale."

"Yeah, everything is my fault today..." I grumble as I press the start button.

The moped sparks to life beneath me, and I feel a massive rush of achievement.

"I did it!" I cry, meeting Drake's eye with an unadulterated grin.

He quirks a brow at me. "Y'know you're still stationary, right?"

"Shut up."

Drake steps up to the bike with a shake of his head and flips out the passenger foot rest. "Last chance to bow out gracefully, Gale."

I glance over my shoulder at him. "If you're trying to pull some kind of reverse psychology on me, Walker—"

"Wouldn't dream of it..." he assures me dryly, mounting up as well. "But my word is gospel, y'hear?"

"Aye-aye, Cap'n," I say sardonically... while trying to ignore the heat of his body and the instinctive urge to lean back into it as he settles down on the narrow seat behind me.

Because as much as I missed him, and as glad as I am that he's back, our volatile reunion has served as a stark reminder that we never finished our conversation back in Applewood. Not only that, but thanks to the almost break-neck speed at which things have been happening, the list of topics for discussion has only grown since then.

And the last thing I want is for us to fall down the same toxic hole that we did in the wake of Christian's surprise reveal in Valtoria.

I just have to hope that we'll be able to squeeze in some much-needed couple time before even more things pile up between us.

Not to mention, I'm desperate to know what had happened with Tariq in Dubai... and whether Drake's record-fast turnaround was a sign of some much-needed success, or even more demoralising failure.

But, first things first: getting back to the embassy in one piece, without the paps chasing us.

I feel Drake roll his eyes at me. "Wrong salutation, but never mind... Now. We're gonna do this slowly and gently. There's a lot of people around, and we don't need you on the front page of the Sun again because you accidentally torpedoed a toddler."

My throat constricts. "Y-You saw that?"

"You'd be hard pressed to find someone who hasn't," he mutters. "But right now, your focus needs to be on driving this thing. So, eyes up front and ignore everything else."

I swallow down my nerves. "Okay..."

"Your right hand controls the throttle. Your left hand controls the break," Drake instructs. "For the love of God, don't mix that up, or I'll be on the phone to your patents explaining why you suddenly need skin grafts."

I wince involuntarily at the gruesomeness of that particular image. "Got it."

"It's a mistake you'll only make once," he warns grimly. "To get going, twist down on the throttle while slowly easing up on the break. Don't jerk it, or you'll face plant into the speedometer."

"Anything else?" I ask, somewhat nervously.

As anticipated, driving a motorbike is a lot more nuanced than Drake made it look back in Cordonia. And I'm having some serious second thoughts about this whole thing...

"Keep your feet off the foot-stand until you've got enough momentum to stay upright."

"How will I know that?"

"You'll feel it," he assures me. "Like on a bike."

I bite my bottom lip.

"Hey," he says, brushing his fingers across my hip. "You got this, girl."

The familiarity of Drake's touch — even though it's fleeting — unwinds something in me. Because it's an unspoken reminder that no matter what may be going on around us... or between us, it's not going to come in the way of the promise that he made me.

I suck in a steadying breath. "Okay. Here goes."

Readjusting my grip on the handlebars, I twist my wrist down. Feeling the engine start to rumble with increased vigour, I gentle ease up on the break.

The Piaggio begins to creep forward.

"Watch the road, not the instruments," Drake cautions from behind me.

Lifting my eyes up, I carefully navigate us 'round the oncoming pedestrians, keeping my feet suspended alongside the moped, in case I need to make an emergency stop.

But, as we move away from the iconic landmark, the crowd starts to thin out, and the street widens. Passing a fruit and vegetable stand, I let go of the break fully, the bike pulls forward eagerly. Feeling slightly more confident, I add a bit more gas so I can finally lift my feet up without capsizing our delicate operation.

"Not bad," Drake approves. "You just gotta relax a bit."

I flush inadvertently. "I am relaxed."

"Your shoulders say different. You're driving like Quasimodo."

"Oh." I make a concerted effort to straighten my posture. "Better?"

"Yeah. But now you need to drop your elbows."

"So much for this being easy..."

"It is," he insists. "Once you get the hang of it."

"You and your technicalities, Walker..." I grumble.

"Everything's got a learning curve," he reminds me. "But we just might make a Hell's Angel out of you yet."

I snort back at him. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Evil Knievel. We haven't made it back to the embassy yet."

"Then you might wanna knuckle down for this next part."

"Why? What's—?"

I get my answer as we round a corner and come parallel to a busier-looking road.

Great...

"Right here, then first left," Drake advises as we approach a somewhat complicated-looking three-way intersection.

"Umm... Okay..." I mumble, eyeing up the noticeably faster-moving traffic on the main road with more than a bit of trepidation.

"No one's gonna give you room, so you'll have to gun it," comes the no-nonsense tip from behind me. "The indicator is by your left thumb."

A Fiat whizzes past, but the next car is some distance away. Taking a breath, I flick the indicator on and twist down on the throttle to merge into the gap.

"Move over one more," Drake shouts over my shoulder. "You're taking up the bus lane."

"Where the heck does it say that?" I demand, casting my head around in confusion.

"On the sign we just passed..."

"Was it invisible?"

"Hey," counters Drake. "You wanna argue with me, or a cop?"

"Neither," I concede sourly, making the switch to the left-side lane after a quick check in the mirror. "But they could've made it more obvious..."

Drake scoffs. "It's Rome. The bastards are trying to catch you out."

"Clearly," I agree, taking a left at the traffic lights...

...straight into a two-way fork in the road.

"Umm... What now?" I squeak, trying to hedge my bets as much as I can in the rapidly shrinking room that I have to make a decision before I run into the curb.

"Stay left."

I start to turn the bike, only to yank it back violently with a yelp as a car that I hadn't realised was trying to overtake me blows past with a scream of its horn.

"Vaffanculo!" yells Drake, throwing his hand out angrily at the other driver.

"Ohmygod..." I rasp, my entire body shaking in the wake of the near miss.

"Fuckin' asshole," gripes Drake. "You okay?"

I swallow thickly past the lump in my throat. "I... think so."

"If you need to pull over..."

I shake my head. "No. I'm fine. I just..."

"...get a kick outta playing chicken?"

"I don't do it on purpose!"

"You sure?" he asks dryly. "'Cause you definitely seem to be making a habit of it..."

I open my mouth, but quickly think better of it... as Drake has a point. I have had a few too many near misses lately. "Sorry... It isn't intentional. I thought that since I'd left the indicator on, that—"

"I know," he assures me, laying a hand on my hip again. "I'm not blaming you. But all the calls you've had had been too close. And..." His fingers tighten against the material of my dress. "I just don't want you to—"

"I know," I concede softly. "I don't want that either. And I'm not normally this accident-prone, I promise..."

"Except when your blood sugar's low," he corrects wryly.

His words cause me to clench my eyes together in consternation. "Damn it, the croissants..."

In the whirlwind of Drake's surprise reappearance, I'd forgotten all about the primary reason for sneaking away from the bridal boutique.

"What croissants?" queries Drake.

"The pistachio ones I was supposed to get from this little bakery next to the fountain that the Italian President had recommended."

I feel Drake's disbelieving gaze knife into the back of my head. "Seriously? That's the reason you were out playing hooky?"

"One of them, yes..." I reply evasively.

"Putain de merde..."

"Apparently they're very good..."

Drake mutters something under his breath. "Pull over."

My eyes widen. "What? Why?"

"Because it's past noon, and you're clearly starving."

"I'm fine," I insist, even though the only thing of substance I've had since this morning was the cup of coffee on Olivia's jet. "I'll just grab something when—"

The Piaggio lurches to a stop as Drake slaps a hand on the break. "No. You won't."

My eyes widen as my feet fly out on instinct to steady the suddenly stationary moped. "Why not?"

"Because the staff at the embassy already have their work cut out pulling together tonight's dinner, so the kitchen is off-limits," he explains, hopping off the back. "And you won't be able to take two steps outside to grab a sandwich without picking up a pap tail."

"Then why have we stopped in a dead-end alley?" I ask in disbelief as Drake pulls the moped it onto its kickstand while I'm still sat gaping at him from the seat.

"Because we just passed one of the best restaurants in Rome," he states. "So, I'm buying you lunch."

His cinnamon-laced eyes meet mine, and I see a sudden flash of rawness in his gaze... a silent plea entreating me to say yes. Which means this is about more than just food.

"Okay," I accede, wondering what could've prompted such a sudden change of heart. "But what about the paps? Aren't you worried we'll get spotted?"

"See any people?" asks Drake, reaching across my lap to turn the ignition off.

"No, but—"

"Exactly," he affirms, pocketing the keys. "This is one of the few places in the city where you ain't gonna bump into a reporter."

"How do you know?"

"Because apart from the fact that Sugo actually makes its own pasta, it is also a stone's throw from Parliament," he explains, offering me a hand to help me off the bike. "Which means that pencil pushers from every level of government come here to ink deals over carbonara, so no one — staff included — is gonna mess with the status quo."

"Sounds like something out of a mafia movie..."

"Where d'you think Hollywood gets its ideas from?" he drawls, pulling his helmet off to stow it in the under-seat compartment. "Places like this. Which is why no one will bother us here. Especially not the paps. It'd be a death sentence for this joint if their tight and discreet ship suddenly sprung a leak."

"Good to know," I acknowledge, unclipping the clasp of my own helmet. "But how did you even find out about this place? Let alone got in?"

"Leo," Drake replies, taking my helmet to clip it onto the handlebar. "He's on a first name basis with the chef."

I quirk a brow at him. "Sounds like there's a story there..."

Drake extricates my bag from the glove box with scoffs. "It's Leo. There's never not a story. But let's get you inside first. Before you pass out on the pavement."

"I'm not going to—" My stomach rumbles in pointed disagreement. "Okay, I am hungry. But where exactly is this place? There's nothing here apart from the back-ends of buildings..."

"Have I ever let you down when it comes to food?" he asks with a raised brow.

"No..."

"Then trust me."

The story continues in Chapter 21 - Coming Soon!

A/N: Translations for the Italian below:

Ch'è qualche problema? - Is there a problem?

Ah... l'amore... non è bello se non è litigarello. - Ah, love... It is not beautiful if it does not quarrel.

Err... Sì. Sto certamente imparando che a mio spese... - Err... Yes. I am definitely learning that the hard way.

Non capita a tutti? - Don't we all?

Err... La saluto. E scusi il disturbo... - Err... Farewell. And apologies for disturbing you.

Eh! Chi non risica non rosica. Ma è meglio stare attenti con lei! Donna buona – vale una corona. - Eh! No risk, no reward! But you better take care of her! Good woman – worth a crown.

Lo so... - I know...

Vaffanculo! - Fuck you!

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desertfangs · 4 months

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What do you think of Armand and Marius's reunion at the end of Blood Communion? Armand opens his heart back up to Marius according to the text. It felt as if Rice was reconnecting both Lestat/Louis and Marius/Armand in that novel.

I'm sorry if this sounds invasive. I don't like so-called ship wars because these vampires are polyamorous in nature but why do so many Devil's Minion's fans here write about Armand and Daniel as if they are endgame when it doesn't exactly seem so? It seems many ignore the contents of Blood Communion.

Anon, I love that it seems Armand's heart is no longer shut against Marius! Armand thought he had lost him which is bound to make anyone take stock, and I really hope that's the catalyst of them healing their relationship and coming to an understanding. I am rooting for them!! And I think Daniel is also rooting for them, paying mediator and translator as needed, and wanting them to settle things so they can all be happy and cuddle on the couch together.

I do think BC2 was Anne trying to reconnect Louis and Lestat and bring everyone to a place of like... We're Getting Along Now and Court is A Happy Place and Everyone Is Fine. There's Marius and Armand, plus Armand and Lestat share that look at the end seems to imply they've come to a better understanding or at least are going to try.

You don't sound invasive and I sure hope I didn't sound like I was trying to encourage any ship fighting because I am not about that life. If I had my way, they'd all hang out together all the time like one big polycule on a giant sectional sofa at TG watching movies and having make outs. Eternity is a long time, you're not going to get everything from one person. Armand also loves Louis deeply, and we know he loves Lestat. Obviously he loves Marius! I don't think Daniel can be or wants to be everything to Armand, and while I think some jealousy is fun for delicious drama, I don't think it's the ruling factor in most of their relationships, either.

Now the big question: Why do Devil's Minion fans write about Armand and Daniel as if they're endgame? I mean, by virtue of being DM fans, we are heavily invested in their relationship. A/D are my OTP and while that's not true for all DM fans, gun to my head if I had to pick one couple who earned their happy ending, I'd say it's them. They had a rough road. Daniel getting The Blood was beautiful moment of victory and Armand seemed so happy with him in QotD, despite any misgivings he may have had. It's great!

And then... stuff falls apart but we only get tidbits for the rest of the series. We know they split, we know Armand almost died, we know Daniel went mad, and then we know they come back together in PL and go hunting. We know they shack up in PLROA and plan to go back to Trinity Gate together. We're given crumbs but the trail does lead to them getting that happy ending after all.

I don't think anything in BC2 discounts that. Daniel isn't mentioned at all so we don't know where he is but we also don't get any indication that things went south between Armand and Daniel since they left for TG. Armand's love for Marius and Lestat and Louis doesn't change his love for Daniel. He loves all of them desperately and that's why he's so intent on trying to help protect them and so frustrated that he is often dismissed at Court.

So I can't speak for all DM fans but I don't think the intention of us taking that happy ending and holding it tight is meant to dismiss or discount those other relationships. We're just very happy we got anything given how little of them we got in the latter half of the series.

I hope that makes sense!

#daniel molloy #armand #armand/daniel #devil's minion #this is a multi-ship household #i didn't even get into Daniel/Marius but I don't think that's over either lol #armand/marius #vc meta #the devil's minion #a/d #armand x daniel #prince lestat era #vc #vampire chronicles #the vampire chronicles #anonymous #answers in the desert #thank you for the ask anon i hope this makes sense #i ramble a lot

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kiljoius-writes · 1 year

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KibaHina Works

<- Go Back

Kiba Inuzuka/Hinata Hyūga

My OTP after I got over shipping NaruHina.

The first stories I wrote for Naruto were about these two. I always thought their dynamic was very cute, from teammates to friends to lovers. I genuinely just love writing Team 8 in general, Shino's been my pfp on Ao3 and FFN since I started writing again. They seemed like the team with the strongest overall bond. Outside of that, Kiba seemed to be there for Hinata plenty.

When she was kidnapped and Neji was sent after her, he demanded he go instead because he didn't trust Neji after he beat the shit out of her. He compromised by joining him of course, but the sentiment remains the same. He's protective of her. There's tons more I could point out, but I'd like to end by saying, as said in my bio, I am not anti-anything. I am not anti-NaruHina and totally respect the ship. I just like KibaHina! <3

Trapped In My Mind

Tumblr | Ao3 | FFN

“Hinata…” Naruto spoke quietly, scanning her face. He hesitantly moved forward before opening his arms. Her stomach did somersaults, her heart shot into her throat. It took everything she had, every ounce of will power not to pass out. No, her second instinct was to turn on her heel and bolt. Run far, far away…

A girl in love is a fool.

Rating: M for mature themes

It Was Okay Series

Ao3

A series of stories from the perspective of Team 8, ending in a KibaHina domesticity.

Small Love

Tumblr | Ao3

When she first gave him a flower, he ate it.

Or: a series of KibaHina/Team 8 one shots and drabbles.

Rating: T

It Was Okay

Tumblr | Ao3 | FFN

When she stuttered, it was okay.

When she blushed, it was okay.

When she fainted, it was okay.

But when she cried, it wasn’t okay.

Rating: E for smut

Plaything

Tumblr | Ao3

Pure smut.

Rating: E for...smut.

Truth in Change

Tumblr | Ao3

A series of one-shots/drabbles of a domestic KibaHina family.

Rating: T

Year of the OTP Series

Ao3

12 separate one-shots of KibaHina, one for each month following the Year of the OTP prompt list.

Warm Apple Cider

Tumblr | Ao3 | FFN

Snow in the Land of Fire never reached considerable levels, but this year, it had. Hinata almost felt lucky for it, she really did enjoy snow. But this time, she felt a tad unlucky. Because tomorrow was her birthday, which would usually mean the timing was perfect. But the timing wasn’t quite perfect, because Kiba hadn’t returned.

That was alright. She was quite used to alone time, anyway.

January Prompt: Snow

Rating: G

Make It Better For Today

Tumblr | Ao3 | FFN

Valentine’s Day in the Leaf had become a bit too…chummy.

Kiba may have been an idiot, but at least he wasn't a sap.

Was he happy the war was over? Of course. Was he glad people were enjoying life? Yeah, whatever. Was he enjoying the fact that the whole damn village was on some sort of mating frenzy? No.

So when a certain little Hyūga berates him for not courting her sister, he's sure it's a prank. Had to be, right?

February Prompt: Valentine's Day

Rating: T for cursing

Everything Goes Away, Sometime

Tumblr | Ao3 | FFN

Person A is the main character, and they pine after Person B. Person B pines after Person C. Person C pines after Person D. Eventually, Person B sees Person A is perfect for them. Person A gets the happy ending.

Sometimes, Person A just…isn’t perfect for Person B.

Sometimes Person C is perfect for them.

March Prompt: Fresh Starts

Rating: E for smut

Place in the Sun

Tumblr | Ao3 | FFN

When Kiba looks at Hinata, he sees the moon.

April prompt: (Seemingly) Unrequited Love

Rating: General

Found You Alive

Tumblr | AO3 | FFN

“What…what am I supposed to do with this?”

“It’s a goldfish, Hinata. Dump it in a bowl and feed it!”

Hinata's got no clue how to handle a brand new goldfish. She barely knows how to work a dishwasher. There is one person who can help her.

May Prompt: Pet Acquisition

Rating: T for cursing

Coming Soon

June prompt:

#kibahina #kiba inuzuka #inuzuka kiba #hyuga hinata #hinata hyuga #hyuuga hinata #hinata hyuuga #kiba #hinata #hinakiba #naruto fanfic #kibahina fanfic #my fic

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dangermousie · 1 year

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An author rec - Anna Belfrage

I don’t post about it much, but my favorite historical period to read fiction and nonfiction about is Medieval Western Europe. I specialized in it in college and have been drawn to it even before that.

And I have found that while it’s easy to find (a) murder mysteries (b) lengthy tomes centering around war and court or (c ) romance novels set in that time period, it is really hard to find something I love more than that - novels following lives of merchant/upper class in that period. What I really want is a novel with a lot of details about everyday life, with some battles and politics (but not too much) and a story with a strong romantic line but not a romance novel. With a fictional (or at least historically obscure) protagonist(s) instead of a king. Huge bonus if it centers around an arranged marriage. And I don’t want to read about arranged marriage = always suck, let’s do a grim narrative about the plague.

I realize that these are fairly narrow criteria but whatever, I like what I like. That is why I enjoyed a lot of Elizabeth Chadwick’s novels or, if we go way way up into 17th century England, Stella Riley’s historical novels. And now there is another author I can add to the list, Anna Belfrage. She has a time travel series I was never able to get into (not my sort of thing) but she has two truly amazing series that give me everything I want.

One, a complete four book series called The King’s Greatest Enemy, is one of my all time favorite reads and more people need to know about it. Its protagonists are Adam de Guirande, one of Roger Mortimer’s knights and Adam’s wife Katherine.

When the first novel opens, Adam is about to marry Katherine, a big step up since she’s from an important family. Sure, she’s no virgin and has some shady history with Adam’s overlord, but on the other hand, there are lands. However, Katherine’s family does not want to marry off their fancy daughter in a match they don’t super like, and so instead marry off the illegitimate daughter nicknamed Kit, who looks a lot like her. From those inauspicious beginnings, this series becomes a delight of watching Adam and Kit slowly fall in love with each other and work with each other and navigate the very turbulent times of Edward II’s reign. You don’t really feel you are reading about modern people playing dress up (Adam is very conscious of class for example) but they still feel like people you can root for.

It also has one of my favorite set-up, OTP against the world. Their world is terribly dangerous - Edward II’s favorite is unhappy with Adam because of his connection to Mortimer, and at one point both Adam and Kit pay for it (side note, one of the things I love about this series is when people get hurt in battle or tortured, they don’t magically heal. By the end of the novel, Adam’s collective injuries from prison and battles and what not have taken their toll, he’s been permanently affected.) Mortimer rebels against Edward II. Eventually Edward III rebels against Mortimer etc etc etc. Illness strikes with no warning (they give up a child as a hostage and never see him again as he dies from an illness.) Adam and Kit keep fighting to stay alive and for the other to stay alive and to stay together and it’s glorious.

This series also features one of my favorite portrayals of Roger Mortimer, the overthrower of a king, the queen’s lover and in generally a man with the kind of a life that if it wasn’t real people would not believe it. The conclusion of his and Isabelle’s story is of course foregone for hundreds of years but it still broke my heart into small pieces. It also features such an interesting portrayal of Edward III and his wife Philippa - I started out liking them and ended up loathing them both but you see exactly how they got there and how power warped them and it all feels quite realistic.

Anyway, obvious warnings for torture and attempted sexual assault (of both genders) and all sorts of murder, but this series is FUCKING AMAZING!

And now she has a new series - 3 books are out but I am only on Book 2 and must scream because it also features an arranged upper class marriage that works out and becomes OTP against the world in a shifting political landscape. Our protag, Robert FitzStephen, gets rewarded by an heiress wife Eleanor d’Outremer by Edward I. Their marriage starts out rough but develops into a genuine match. And now they are in Aragon in Book 2 and it’s even more awesome. Watching two cool competent people in a loving marriage dealing with all sorts of issues and medieval history background is AAAAA so good! So go read and scream at me!

#books #anna belfrage

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harryissuchalittleshit · 8 months

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Hugo and his immediate family headcanons plseg:Ron,Rose, Hermione

I know it's different to what you normally do so you don't have to do it if you don't want to.

Also hugo x lyla headcanons!

Can we have some becca x lysander headcanons to???

Sorry if it's a lot

Hugo & Rose:

They have always been close

Rose was so excited to be a big sister and she was always aware of Hugo growing up

They even managed to stay close as teenagers and in adulthood

They always supported each other in their choices- Hugo and Lyla not marrying young, Rose and Scorpius having a family very young, neither of them going into the Ministry

Hugo is even good to Scorpius, which the favor is easily returned

Rose is honestly one of Hugo’s favorite people in the world

He and Lyla name their only daughter after Rose

Rose names her oldest son Hermes Hugo for Hugo

They are the only Weasley grandchildren that never had a serious fight between them

Hugo & Ron:

Ron loves having a son so much! Even if Hugo came with an amazing amount of challenges throughout his life

They are both dyslexic, so it was great for Ron to learn that there was a name for his reading troubles, the pair of them learned how to read together

Hugo is amazing at chess and one of few that can beat Ron in a match

Hugo reminds Ron a lot of Fred, especially when he’s younger and causing trouble left and right, he finds out the name for that too, ADHD

While Hermione worries about Hugo going to school, Ron knows that Hugo will be fine and happy and thrive at Hogwarts

He was proud of Rose for being a prefect and Head Girl, he nearly cries when Hugo is named Head Boy

He has read every article, every column, and every book Hugo has ever published, he is such a proud Dad

Hugo & Hermione:

Hugo looks more like Hermione while Rose looks like Ron

Hugo is incredibly logical and reasonable like Hermione, but he’s also incredibly impulsive lol

He loves old stories, especially mythology and the stories Hermione read to him as a kid

Hugo was very close to Hermione’s father, and that is a connection Hermione holds very dear to her

Hugo loves visiting Hermione at the Ministry, even if he does get a little too excited during court cases

He would play or nap in the space under Hermione’s desk, to the point that she always had a blanket in one of her desk draws

They are the two that know Spanish best in the family and often get into fights in Muggle London about “speaking the native language” and what not

Hugo loves to switch languages mid sentence, a trick he learned from Hermione

She was really nervous about him going to Hogwarts with his ADHA, but he defied her expectations

She was also nervous about Lyla, but grew to love her as a daughter

Hugo & Lyla:

(I love these two so much!! OTP level right here)

So they are definitely a school rival to teenage crushes to dedicated soulmates in a matter of a single summer

They just have this level of understanding for one another that only grows as they get older and they’re in such a strong relationship

In many ways they see their relationship to each other as like their parents

Hugo sees how understanding and forgiving they are to each other

Lyla sees how dedicated and trusting they are for each other

They have a shared love of music and dancing, they love mythology (especially Greek), they are both very smart and academic, and they both love languages

Hugo teaches Lyla so much about the Muggle world, including how to drive

Why Lyla teaches Hugo about the inner workings of the Society and pureblood culture

Rose and Scorpius pretty much set them up, Hugo and Lyla just so happened to have already hooked up a week before the real set up lol

They both become writers and have several books published together and alone

They end up having four kids and eight cats (though four belong to the kids)

Becca & Lysander:

They’re the couple no one really expected to get together

Their mum’s were friendly back at Hogwarts, but Becca’s dropped out during the war to have her oldest daughter

But they became friends again through Ginny and Hermione

Rose and Becca are best friends, while Lysander and James are good friends

Rose and Scorpius had already been dating for a few months when Becca and Lysander started going out

It wasn’t even like a thing anyone really realized, they were just always talking and finding each other in the library or out on the grounds and all the sudden they just were dating

Lysander kissed Becca first but she said the first “I love you”

Lysander does break up with Becca for a year while he’s out of school and she’s a seventh year

It’s really bad for both of them, but they come out of it stronger and more sure of what they want in life and who they want to share that life with

They learn to forgive and trust each other so much more

#harry potter #head canons #rose weasley #scorpius malfoy #family #hugo weasley #Lyla Zabini #Becca Havings #lysander scamander #ron weasley #hermione granger

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attonitos-gloria · 2 years

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What's your favorite tyrion relationship/dynamic?

aaaaah the latest to answer things ever! sorry for this and thank you for the ask!

hah. every single interaction tyrion has is perfect. but i'll nail it down to three, am i allowed?!

Tyrion/Penny. Tyrion/Penny. Tyrion/Penny. Not romantically. Just. Oh my God. Penny trying to kill him when she first meets him and then befriending him and Tyrion projecting all his internalized ableism on her, and trying to make her into a cynical and not making it because she is too sweet....... cannot cope with this relationship. I love grumpy and dark guy/sunshine girl relationships so much? They fit into a trope that has almost been reinvented here; Tyrion is older, he tries to protect her, they are on the road together... they are great foils to each other, and a nice parallel to Jaime/Brienne, too. I'm just very grateful that George gave us Penny. If someone happens to her I don't know what I'll do. I want to grow a full garden for her. Deep in his heart Tyrion wants it too, I just know it.

Tyrion/Cersei/Jaime. The tragedy! The Gender of it all! If you're raised with an angry man in your house, there will be always an angry man in your house! This is by far and large the best sibling dynamics in ASOIAF. I will not be taking questions at this time.

Tyrion/Sansa. And listen. LISTEN. I need to write a disclaimer here and a long essay. This ship is not my OTP in a romantic sense, necessarily. I have a lot of fun writing fluff for them, but that is not even my favorite version of this pairing. It's not the romance that draws me to them; canonically, they don't have romantic feelings for each other, and I think they won't ever have.

It's the marriage that draws me. I think we live in a world where it comes as granted, given and obvious that marriage is a sort of reward that lovers earn for their passion, for falling in love. Nothing wrong with that; I married a person of my choosing, a person I fell in love with. Nothing against courtly romance in ASOIAF, either. But I think, in Westeros, the relationships that touch me, that rip me off from my core, are about a certain kind of loyalty? About a permanence, about things that linger and remain. A stubbornness, if you will.

It's like Elizabeth and Phillip in The Americans - the marriage is bigger than the romance. Marriage in ASOIAF can mean many things. It means power, it means abuse, it means peace and security, it means love for some. And I think, in Sansa's and Tyrion's case, it means mostly abuse; it means War. The marriage is a plan to seize the North. Period. There's no way around it. Everyone knows, including both of them. But I admire the way they have turned it into protection, into a sort of harbor? Tyrion marries Sansa after they are both utterly humiliated before the court and then he spends the rest of their short marriage leaving her alone, because that's what she needs from him. They are so lonely in this marriage. They are an absence in each other's life. It's so painful to read. I think a lot about how Sansa thinks she will never marry for love:

Tyrell or Lannister, it makes no matter, it's not me they want, only my claim. "You are kind, my lord," she said, defeated. "I am a ward of the throne and my duty is to marry as the king commands."

He studied her with his mismatched eyes.

"I know I am not the sort of husband young girls dream of, Sansa," he said softly, "but neither am I Joffrey."

and Tyrion, one chapter later:

I want her, he realized. I want Winterfell, yes, but I want her as well, child or woman or whatever she is. I want to comfort her. I want to hear her laugh. I want her to come to me willingly, to bring me her joys and her sorrows and her lust. His mouth twisted in a bitter smile. Yes, and I want to be tall as Jaime and as strong as Ser Gregor the Mountain too, for all the bloody good it does.

What is it that they are longing for? Each other? Hardly; they long for a real marriage. Tyrion projects these wishes onto Sansa simply because Sansa is the wife he was given. But they can’t have it with each other. He knows it, and Sansa doesn’t even consider Tyrion might be able to love her. Why would she? She is literally a hostage for Tywin to have a claim on Winterfell. Tyrion himself says that he did not ask to marry her.

Most of Sansa's observations about Tyrion are about how not there he is most of the time. When he is, she is anxious and scared of saying/doing the wrong thing, or afraid because she doesn’t know what is it that he wants from her, since he never consummated the marriage anyway. Most of Tyrion's observation about Sansa are about how much she is not the person he wanted, because Tyrion is, at his core, a wife guy without a wife, and now he has one, and she is 1) a child and 2) a hostage and 3) afraid of him for 193128 reasons. He looks at her searching for Tysha and he doesn’t find her because Sansa is NOT translucent. She is a solid person! Covered in a thick armor of courtesy who refuses to personificate his wishes and fantasies! Tysha was warm and caring, Sansa is coldly lady-like and polite; Tysha wanted him, Sansa jumps out of their marriage bed at the first chance and is disgusted by him; Tysha was in love with him, Sansa is scared of him.

It's all so pathetic, it's so miserable, and so sad, and overall divorce-coded, and still:

"A marriage..." Her throat tightened. She did not want to wed again, not now, perhaps not ever. "I do not... I cannot marry. Father, I..." Alayne looked to the door, to make certain it was closed. "I am married," she whispered. "You know."

and then:

Littlefinger smiled. "Widowhood will become you, Sansa."

The thought made her tummy flutter. She might never need to share a bed with Tyrion again. That was what she'd wanted... wasn't it?

and also:

I will tell my aunt that I don't want to marry Robert. Not even the High Septon himself could declare a woman married if she refused to say the vows. She wasn't a beggar, no matter what her aunt said. She was thirteen, a woman flowered and wed, the heir to Winterfell. Sansa felt sorry for her little cousin sometimes, but she could not imagine ever wanting to be his wife. I would sooner be married to Tyrion again.

and then:

"I never meant… I never kissed a boy before, but … I only thought, what if we drown, and I… I…"

"It was sweet," lied Tyrion, "but I am married. She was with me at the feast, you may remember her. Lady Sansa."

and also this:

"Did Sansa Stark do it, then?" Lord Tyrell demanded.

I would have, if I'd been her. Yet wherever Sansa was and whatever her part in this might have been, she remained his wife. He had wrapped the cloak of his protection about her shoulders, though he'd had to stand on a fool's back to do it. "The gods killed Joffrey. He choked on his pigeon pie."

I am fascinated by this, because, anon: they hate their marriage! They loathe it!!!!! They don't hate each other, they actually care in their own way, but none of them wanted to be there! They just pull the Marriage Card out of their sleeves when there's something worse happening because at least they left each other be, at least there was an implicit accord that this - a sort of island of peace - they could grant each other! It's not good but it's the best they can do and they do it; they are not in love but they are LOYAL to each other. Sansa doesn't want Tyrion to suffer or to die; Tyrion doesn't want Sansa to take the blame for Joff's murder, even though she looks suspicious and even though it might cost him his life. Sansa relies on Tyrion for her protection, she trusts he will not hurt her, she thinks back on him, basically, as the man who tried to protect her, the man who didn’t bed her, didn’t harm her when he could. I think this is the only explanation for the fact she touches him (literally touches him, outside the context of marriage bed: Sansa reaches out to hold his hand, clutches his arm on a whim when she’s upset. Tyrion is a Reliable Person for her, and that is not something that Sansa can say about most people). Tyrion feels sad for her, for her family; he wishes he could soothe it, he can’t feel any joy in the victory of his family because he knows it comes at the expenses of his wife. They do care! They are alone but they are alone together; there’s trust and kindness there. And this kindness serves nothing, absolutely nothing, it doesn’t fix anything, it doesn’t change their situation, it doesn’t help them to communicate to each other, it doesn’t make them talk. It’s not a bridge, it’s not a way for Tyrion to try to win her heart or her attention; this kindness is pointless and meaningless and this is why it breaks my heart.

There’s something about being kind with no expectation of reward or results that just makes me go absolutely feral. And there’s something about married people holding onto their wedding vows, miles away, that makes me just *bites fist*

my God. I love them very much. I think they are each other's keepers in a very layered, interesting way and the way George wrote them, honestly? I think they contain multitudes. They could be friends, siblings, family. They could be allies, partners, each other’s advisors. They could be enemies. They could be lovers. They most definitely could be either bitterly divorced or bitterly married. *shrugs* and this is nice because whatever comes in the next books, I’ll be fine. They don’t need to be happy with children! I just need to read them in Situations, you know?

(Sorry this got long <3 this is what happens when people drop Tyrion asks in my inbox!!!!)

#king of my heart #ask me stuff #i'm not even going to put this in the sansa x tyrion tag #but yes. george ruined my life.

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