A/N: Written because I have nothing to do with my life except stare at the turtle tank that now inhabits my desk, play Sunless Sea, and write fanfic. Probably a sub-canon piece too because idk about Fitzroy willing his shit to the rest of the crew; I just made that up on the spot. Maybe we can assume it wasn’t a whole lot.

If anyone is reading the Westlie-Series who isn’t on the Pyrrhus already, this is about three weeks? after they left Port Prosper together. There was an Incident of Self Sacrifice on behalf of the captain because @nicktosaurus​ likes murdering beloved NPCs in dramatic and horrible ways. We had the chance to save him while running away from the Glorious even though they started shooting up the whole island while Fitzroy was getting surgery, Selmer fucked up his roll and Capt’n died. Cue horrified drama onboard the ship as we picked up Selmer and got the fuck out of there without even our dead Captain’s body. We also had like three days of fuel left. Aaand scene:

-=-

No.

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

No, no, no, no, no, no.

Marion slammed the door to the engine room. Selmer hurried after her. Lizzie had already vanished. Elijah stood next to the stove, possibly making tea, but his hands were shaking; he grabbed a cup, put it on the counter, grabbed the kettle, put it back down, picked up the cup and filled it with water; poured the water out and filled up the kettle. Owen had already left, vanished.

No.

Westlie stepped into the hallway, holding out a hand to steady herself against the wall as she made her way to the map room.

No. No, no, no, no, no, no.

She stumbled inside, locked the door, and slid down to the ground, her back to the rest of the Pyrrhus. Everything was numb. Westlie opened her mouth, out of air. Was this what fainting felt like? She had to breathe. Breath, Westlie, breathe.

I can’t. She dug her fingers in her hair. I can’t breathe. I can’t feel anything.

Fitzroy is dead.

Her soul screamed in anguish.

No. No. This wasn’t real. This was a bad dream, a nightmare. She’d stared too long out the window. Selmer had stared too long out the window; he had to be wrong.

But there still wasn’t Fitzroy on the ship - sleeping or up and about. There was no careful, courteous gaze. No knock on the map room when she put a book away too loudly. The last time he’d been up and about - Westlie laughed bitterly through her tears - it was past midnight and he’d knocked briefly on the door, letting himself in to find her knee-deep in charts. Westlie remembered smiling when she looked over her shoulder, seeing it was him. She’d caught herself after in surprise; she’d never done that to anyone. Maybe Morgan. But he was welcome because he simply looked over her notes and pulled out another book. And that was bitter. Stars, it was bitter. She had so much to learn. She had so much to learn.

Westlie covered her mouth with her sleeve and screamed into it, shoulders shaking as the tears rolled down her cheeks. Fitzroy, what do I do? Tell me what to do. You’re the captain. What do I do?

Books. She always had books.

Westlie stumbled to her feet, drunkenly leaning on the bookshelf as she blinked her way through the tears. Charting, charting, charting, navigation; biology, maps, one of Fitzroy’s journals; she scrubbed her eyes. Some books on the Queen’s fleet, a small book on the Glorious - shame, they could have used that - charts, charts, charts, navigation, diagrams of engines, diagrams of boiler rooms. Bediveres, Altanis, Molochs, Parsivals, Miscllaneous Reclaimed engines. She pulled a few of the books off the shelf onto the ground. Please, please, please, please, please let there be something. Abnomalies, a study of gravity, propultion, engineering, boilers, repairs, navigation, navigation, navigation, Pellinores, Pellinores, Pellinores, engines, repairs. Westlie cried harder as she knelt in the chaos, scanning the last row of books. Repairs, repairs, the Glorious, a series of notes in Fitzroy’s handwriting titled “Cargo Purchase and Sale References”, Pellinores, shipyard references, exploration of the reach, dangerous encounters in the reach, history of the reach, old captains, old engines, dead engines, engine scavenge log. Nothing on crew and captains or reviving dead men.

She’d never felt so helpless.

There wasn’t a hole in her heart, she wasn’t lonely, it was a hole in her stomach that made her want to hurl until there was nothing left; an abomidable chimera of grief and fear. Westlie pounded the bookshelf, feeling the tears drop off her chin into her lap. She should have done something. Anything. Should have stayed behind with Selmer, should have fought the Glorious off. They could have found a better doctor. They should have saved him. Fitzroy deserved to be saved. He deserved to be alive. Westlie sobbed harder, sinking against the bookshelf. All of them had failed, and now Marion was without a father, Westlie was without a teacher, Owen was without a job, Selmer and Elijah were without a friend.

At some point her eyes ran out of tears and she still cried until they burned. She didn’t remember anything else except waking up in the pile of books, every bone in her body aching. There was only a soft fungal luminescence outside the window. The Pyrrhus was deathly quiet, the engine hushed like it too was mourning its Captain.

Oh they were almost out of fuel too.

Westlie hurt too much to feel anything. She stood, facing the desk, her body wanting to sit but immobile. Her eyes felt dead. Without thinking she turned around and unlocked the door, slipping into the open hallway. It was too open, she felt exposed, but too lethargic to care. She made her way to the cab room. All the readings were fine if a bit low. There was some comfort in checking the pressure gauge, something she could touch; something she had control over.

Westlie opened the door to the catwalk of the engine room and looked down. The engine itself hissed softly, the coal bin was almost empty. Marion was curled in her cot, Selmer and Lizzie nearby. Westlie watched them for a second, then shut the door again. She walked down the hall to the now-empty cargo hold. The beds where the tiny family slept were still up, otherwise it was empty. Down to the crew quarters. Her bed was empty in the corner. Owen and Elijah were on the opposite sides of the room. The first sleeping, Elijah awake and... doing something by candlelight. Westlie couldn’t quite see, nor did she care. She turned away without being seen, hesitating before Fitzroy’s cabin.

She hated herself for standing there, for just staring at the handle with her dead eyes and empty soul and finally, like a ghost was moving for her, opening the door and stepping in.

It looked like he left it. It looked like he would come back any moment. There was cold coffee on the desk from at least two days ago after their escape from New Winchester. Someone made the fucking bed. There were book out, his reading spectacles on the nightstand. Westlie felt the tears well up again her but it just made her eyes burn worse. There was blood on the floor by the bed. She should clean that. Later. Tomorrow. She stepped to the far side of the room, making a circle around the stain in respect for the dead, and picked up the book by his nightstand. “Captain’s Log: Nov 1903 - ____”

She couldn’t take it. Westlie bit her lip to keep from letting out a sob as she grabbed the book and fled, still carefully to keep her footsteps hushed and not let the door sound. She escaped back into the map room, locked the door again, and sank down like earlier. She hated herself for opening the book. She hated herself for skipping most of Fitzroy’s neat, precise scribbles and going all the way to the last few pages. They were shakey and succinct.

.

            Difficulty breathing from gunshot wound. Aid must be administered but our only chance is a homestead. Lustrum is too far; suggested course for Father Apollyon.

.

[Blood dotted the last entry from a coughing fit.]

              Set my will in order in case of surgery failure. Pyrrhus command will be passed to Westlie; I trust the crew to help her. Estate portions for the rest of them; Selmer might forgive me for my lack of trust when he can easily support his mother. Documents filed in letters for London. May I be remembered as a good man if I do not live.

.

Westlie set the book down and covered her face with her hands. Fitzroy you fool. Fitzroy you FOOL.

Why didn’t he pick Elijah? Elijah deserved it. Kind, loyal Elijah. She couldn’t see Selmer or Marion taking command, but Elijah would do alright. She could follow him. But her?

Westlie felt the overwhelming urge to cry for the fifth time that night; truly overwhelming because a few tears leaked down her cheeks despite her puffy eyes. She was new, quiet, incompetent, and hotheaded. The crew didn’t trust her- for fuck’s sake she’d lost the battle with Marion over that fucking smoke shell. And Marion ended up being right; if they’d fought the Glorious would they have come out in one piece? Westlie let out a bitter laugh. She might as well die with Fitzroy and pass it to someone else that way.

Why Fitzroy? You knew I wanted to be a navigator. You knew I was good at it. You must have figured I’d never be a good captain. My father is a monster. I’ve done horrible things. They’ll look to me for guidance and I have empty palms and a checkered past. You put me as First Mate because I was good at paperwork and good at numbers. I’m nobody’s friend. Not even Lizzie’s. Why would you let me lead?

Why did you let me come with you?

If Fitzroy was there in the room with her, Westlie would have punched him. Lost her temper, told him to fuck off and check his pipe for honey; she was incapable, she was absolutely not ready. He was her captain but he was wrong.

But he was her captain.

Westlie tossed the book onto the earlier pile by the bookshelf and curled against the wall. Damn him. Damn him for dying. Damn him for jumping in front of Selmer. Damn the Glorious. ... She had to listen didn’t she. That was his order. Not only his last order, but his dying wishes. Who could refuse that? She would just... have to be as much like Fitzroy as she could remember. Westlie laughed a little bitterly. Well she knew who not to be like; she could start there too.

It was stupid. The whole thing was stupid. She was stupid. Stupid death, stupid timing, stupid her, stupid decision. The situation bared its full weight on her and she couldn’t even tell it to fuck off because she couldn’t muster the strength to be angry. She didn’t want to fight; she was tired of fighting. She’d gotten her hopes up and the world had put her in her place. She would always, always be alone. Westlie balled herself up tighter against the wall and cried herself to sleep a second time.

The Miys, Ch. 135

I think y’all are in for a treat with this one. I won’t spoil it, though, other than to say that @baelpenrose and @charlylimph-blog thought this chapter was hilarious.

Think about that, please. Charly and Arthur think this chapter is hilarious.

Eyeah. That’s all I’ve got to say about that. I do not take responsibility for any injuries sustained.

As always, please don’t forget to check out the podcast! I will plug it shamelessly, so you may as well.

“Where are they?” Alistair murmured while he searched our shared office thoroughly.  Had it been anyone else, I would say he was being calm, but the fact that he was searching for anything, at all, tagged it in my head as a downright frantic pace.

“Where are what?”

“Nothing,” he dismissed, despite continuing his search.

I furrowed my brows. “You haven’t even had your tea yet. Or your breakfast?”

A pale hand waved me off. “I am aware.”

Shrugging, I gave it up as a lost cause and went back to the list of evacuees that Tyche and I had drafted up. After whipping up a preliminary list of who was assigned where, we were doing a more thorough second pass to ensure no conflicts of personality.  Deep in thought, I paid Alistair no attention until Parvati and Hannah arrived fifteen minutes later.

“Alistair, they aren’t here, so you can stop looking,” Hannah grinned as she took her accustomed seat.

“I am sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Surrrrre you don’t. Just like I’m sure you don’t know why several of the paint pens ran out of pigment,” Parvati assured him in the most sincere tone I had ever heard. My former therapist would have been proud.

I fought back a smile as he straightened and finally stopped his search, even going so far as to tug his shirt to get any wrinkles out. “I know no such thing.”  With that, he turned his back to all three of our snickering faces, requesting his usual tea and scone from the food console.

Composing my face, I tried to be serious for a minute. “You should eat fast, because our appointment with Arthur Farro is in about fi - “

My door whooshed open. Speak of the devil.

“ - ve minutes early, apparently,” I finished.

Unperturbed as usual, the subject of my previous suggestion strolled in with his usual air of confidence.  Just as he was going to take a seat beside Parvati, he leaned across the table. “Aww, no kiwi or pomegranate on your clotted cream this morning? Poor fing,” he said with a mocking pout.

“I am baffled why everyone believes such things of me,” Alistair grumbled into his tea with a scowl.

I sputtered. “You were using the pens on your breakfast?”

He didn’t even bother denying the chorus of confirmations from those around him, taking the higher road of sudden deafness. “Farro, I am still not entirely sure why a former warlord is necessary for discussions of an evacuation plan.”

“Warlords are generally just berserkers if they don’t have anyone to be ‘lord’ of.” Farro shot a dazzling smile as I supressed a groan. “But then again, being British, I’m sure you got confused, what with all the lords that were there in the last century without even land to their names.”

It really was easier sometimes to do things without either of them. Time to step in. “Gentlemen,” I purred in my most annoyingly ‘motivational’ tone possible, “the bathroom is right through that door, if you would like to continue your pissing contest.  However, some of us have actual work to do, so whether you fuck it out or fight it out, please do so on your own time.”

Both mouths shut with an audible click, and both men looked away from me. But at least they were quiet. Sophia: 1, Whatever-the-hell-this-was: 0.

I forged ahead while I had the chance. “Arthur, thank you for taking time to meet with us regarding the plans for fortifying the safety points. I’m sorry that Tyche couldn’t be here, however she scheduled her stay-cation several months ago and frankly deserves it.” By which I meant I had bribed Derek with a nauseating amount of bao to disable any communications to or from this office from going to her data pad until the start of her first shift post-vacation, and threatened my entire family within an inch of their lives to keep them from bringing up work around her for the next week. “However, I do have her concerns and suggestions ready, I assure you.”

With a scowl, he glanced at me and stood, calling up the emitter-map of the Ark. Quickly, he sketch circles around each of the ‘bunkers’ we had designated. “Xiomara had very sound judgement in the locations she chose for safe-zones, and I honestly expected it. Between her and Evania, there is a frankly terrifying amount of strategic prowess in what is theoretically our Health and Safety office.”

“You can’t be healthy or safe if you’re dead,” Hannah pointed out.

He tossed her a wink and grin. “Touche. However, none of them are perfect. This location,” he leaned to tap and zoom on a mess hall, “is fortified, has access to food and drink, even if you have to furiously call up non-perishables and potable water, and only has one entrance/egress.  A huge entry/egress, unfortunately: the door is ten meters wide.”

Parvati tapped a couple times on her datapad before chiming in. “It does close, however. And it locks.”

Arthur shook his head. “In two panels, each five meters wide. If even one is blown, the gap is indefensible. Both, everyone in there is free for the taking.”

“You are suggesting we ask Miys to narrow the aperture of the door?” I groaned when I heard Alistair leverage his overly-formal language.

It didn’t get any better when Arthur nodded. “Worst they can say is no, but the size of the door is simply for ease of access and to assuage anyone with proximity issues. Now that we all have these handy alerts - “ he tapped his temple for emphasis “ - it isn’t nearly as necessary. Noah? Bud? What do you think?”

The buzz from the ceiling was clearly amused. “I am amenable if this is a solution. As Arthur pointed out, the width of that door is no longer necessary.”

“Annnd there we go,” Arthur shrugged. “The boatwright said yes, if that’s what we want.”

My jaw nearly hit the floor when Alistair nodded firmly and stood. Swiftly, he highlighted three more areas. “These have the same potential concern. We should include those in the proposal.”

‘We’? ‘We’ whomst??? Since when were they on the same side?

“I agree,” Arthur continued enthusiastically, causing my head to start twinging in pain. “According to the engineers and the chemisists on board, the material of the Ark is remarkably fire-retardant despite it’s organic nature - let’s hear it for advanced civilizations - so there is no additional need for fire doors. There is however a possibility of concussive damage to the actual doors in any area, despite how thick the actual walls are.”

“Tyche recommended shock-absorbent material on the exteriors of each door, dropped via internal trigger and held taught by wires rather than any sort of scaffolding,” I suggested, recovering my focus. I flicked the concept at the emitter, where it was displayed alongside the schematic of the Ark. “Using wires would allow us to also store it in a roll at the top of the door, and allow pulleys to draw the wires embedded in the bulkhead down to cover the entire door.”

Hannah nodded thoughtfully. “The materials she suggests are a good idea - definitely maximizes shock absorption as much as possible. My only concern is that we can probably double the flame resistance of the materials for only a ten-percent loss of effectiveness.”

Calling up my datapad, I smiled as I quoted. “ ‘However, Hannah is a professional weaver and seamstress, and therefore I defer to her on any suggestions regarding materials used, provided there is no more than twenty-percent loss of efficacy’. Apparently she did the calculations and had Charly and Conor both check behind her - anything below twenty percent loss, and the blast would blow the doors.”

“And when did the more sensible Miss Reid learn engineering?” Alistair asked in what sounded like genuine curiosity.

“Tuesdays - I think?” I scrunched my face and searched my memory. “It was something very important when we were cosplaying.”

Arthur snorted, but gestured an apology when Alistair affixed him with a downright lethal glare.

Hannah ignored them both. “Wool… We should be able to synthesize raw wool, instead of the plant based materials here. Best of both worlds - fluffy, incredibly flame resistant, and disperses concussive force like nothing else. Line it with silk for shrapnel? We should be good.”

“Fortress defense via quilts. I like it,” Arthur grinned savagely.

“There is a reason tapestries were so important in the Middle Ages,” Alistair snarked at him. “Both flame resistant and insulating, both very good qualities when you see by torches and candles in a drafty residence that echoes like a cathedral.”

Arthur held his hands up in surrender. “Not arguing, no worries… Genuine respect, swear.”

“Better…”

“Annnnd forging on from whatever-the-fuck-that-was,” I interjected, trying to focus on the topic at hand rather than… well, whatever the fuck that was, “That’s overlarge entries and concussive force taken care of. What other concerns did you have, Arthur?”

“Frankly? Camouflage,” he told us sternly. “The best way to protect against an invading enemy is to make it so hard to find you that it isn’t worth the effort.  All these defenses are good an all, but… they’ll stick out like a sore thumb and practically scream ‘Hey! We’re in HERE!’ “ I stifled a laugh when he hopped and waved his arms furiously.

“Very dignified, Farro,” Alistair sniffed as he stood to get more tea.

“I know, right? I’m so classy…”

Rolling my eyes and still regretting having them both in my office at the same time, “We actually have the camouflage solved for.” You could have heard a pin drop, all four of them frozen, mouths open. “It came through this morning from Zach.” I swiped the fortress-quilt specs down, and popped up the plans for the camouflage. “We’re thinking on the visible spectrum, since humans are sight animals. Zach went with a ‘most common denominator’ approach - scent, infrared, acoustic, everything but electromagnetic vision.  The quilts cover the infrared and the majority of the acoustic issues: if any body-heat shows through fifteen inches of fluffed wool and a bulkhead door, we’re doomed no matter what.” I highlighted a line of data. “Scent, likewise: Zach is suggesting aeresolized, low concentration sulfur throughout the majority of the Ark, excluding the safe-zones. The safe-zones will also have one of Miys stationed in each one, acting essentially as an air scrubber. This will minimize acoustics from active air filtration, while also adhering to Miys being a non-participant: they will be present to ensure our comfort due to minimizing body odor, nothing more.  This was already planned, the fact that it will protect us from being detected by scent is just a lagniappe.”

I waited for the thoughtful nods to pass and decided I did not see the glance that Arthur and Alistair exchanged. As long as they didn’t draw blood during the meeting, I would let it slide. “Where it gets sticky is neuroelectric. Zach, it seems, took a page out of Charly’s manual-of-mischief.” I zoomed in on the specific line of the prospectus and waited.

“He wants to what?” Hannah asked, incredulous. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh I like this,” came the ‘devil’ in ‘devil’s advocate’.

“How would it even work?” Parvati asked, genuinely curious.

I chose that one to respond to. “Just like the microfilament wires that will support the quilts, he wants to cover the walls inside several false locations with a mesh and electrify it to mimic human synaptic energy. Needle in a haystack theory.”

“Wait,” Alistair held up a hand to interrupt. “Are you also proposing that the doors to these false locations will be covered in the quilts?”

“Absolutely,” I confirmed. “Given how far from prospective entry points all of the safe-zones are located, they would run into several false locations before they encounter a real one.”

“And if they decide to tear into all the locations, even the false-positives?” Arthur poked, trying to find a hole in the idea. Which, I had to concede, was why he was even here instead of sending me messages for this.

“What if they decide to tear into every mess hall? Or every door? We can’t plan for everything.” I shook my head. “However, we can factor in a few things that seem pretty consistent despite species - Beings who don’t have legitimate work and take slaves are generally prone to laziness, despite somehow working harder to avoid work than I have ever actually worked a day in my life.  Point being, give them enough false positives on the way, they won’t actually search everything no matter what they say.”

“Speculation and hearsay, not admissible in court.”

“Au contraire, mon frère. Charly did the sociological analysis on all the species most likely to be pirates in the region of the galaxy where we will exit relativistic space, and her estimates are that the plan has a sixty-to-eighty-percent chance of success in the event that all human combatants fail. And I, personally, agree.” 

He conceded a low whistle. “Damn. If I didn’t like Evan so much, I would say Charly is being wasted with Huynh. Objection withdrawn.”

“Quite,” Alistair agreed smugly. “Miss Harper’s plan is a sound one. The Archives, however - “

I interrupted, still irritated about the topic. “You will be stationed immediately inside the doors to defend against any intruders who make it that far, while Tyche will be defending the y-junction between the speculative fiction and historical fiction categories to prevent intruders from reaching the actual people.”

“But the religious studies section - “

“Has already been scanned down to a molecular level to preserve the information, even if we can’t restore any actual artifacts,” Parvati advised in a profoundly bored tone. “You do realize that anyone who reaches that section will not be able to reach the actual people from there without doubling back, right?”

“Miss Fletcher, there is a Gutenberg Bible on this Ark, potentially the last one in existence.” The tone was icy enough to send a shiver down my spine.

“Phee,” Arthur threw out, guaranteeing my irate attention, “Is there any issue with moving the Gutenberg to the Speculative Fiction section until we meet with the Ekomari fleet?”

“Are you seri - “

“Not to placate the Monarchist, I swear. Just - that is a profoundly important historical artifact, even if I agree with nearly none of the contents. The start of the Information age! Literature in the hands of the vulgar masses! Your field of study would have never existed in the form it was without that achievement. Who cares if the first use was to print the frickin’ Bible?”

Before I could object, Parvati added her prodigious two cents. “I do not have to be Christian to appreciate the illuminations in a manuscript, any more than I have to be a Muslim to be brought to my knees by the beauty of a mosque. We can appreciate the significance of something regardless of whether we agree with it or not.”

“This is probably where Charly or Tyche would point out that I am a huge fan of laws against animal abuse, despite firmly believing that Hitler was evil incarnate,” I sighed. “Yeah, we can move the Gutenberg Bible, provided - hang on, stop cheering - PROVIDED - “ I paused to make sure they were all paying attention, “that any other works of significant cultural or historical significance are moved as well. Any first additions, significant religious texts - or in lack of ‘significant’ religious texts, just a copy of each that is agreed to be acceptable by all who follow that religion. A copy of Frankenstein, The Tale of Genji, et cetera.”

I knew my request brooked exactly zero argument from Alistair, as his eyes visibly shone when I added more books to the list. What I waited for were any objections from the other three.

Sure enough, Hannah tentatively raised her hand. When I nodded, she spoke up. “I think we should do a kind of Voyager-plate: a copy, even just digital, of all our texts around music, crafts, technology, mathematics… Art, fermentation, food preparation and the history of it. Not just for this scenario!” she insisted urgently, “For any worst-case scenario. Keep a copy, or several. And put those copies, along with all the relevant artifacts that we have on board, and keep them with the people in the Archives, in the safest part of the ship.”

“Where it would take a black hole to destroy it,” Parvati whispered.

Just as the tears were threatening my eyes, Arthur flopped back in his seat and kicked his boots up onto the table. “Jesus fuck, you guys are depressing. Right, but depressing. It’s doable, though. We just transcribe it into the most common language for each version of ‘language’ in the Galaxy…”

Alistair snorted. “You warlords and your short-sightedness. Clearly, the resolution is to transcribe it into the most common language in the Galaxy with instructions on how to translate it further down.”

“No, you limey-ass bastard,” Arthur growled. “Too much is lost in translation - there is a reason the Qur’an and the Sefer Torah should never be translated to be considered valid.”

Nope. I wasn’t dealing with it. We had covered all the necessary topics, I could message the rest. I twitch my head at both Vati and Hannah, at which point they both rose from their seats. Neither was noticed by the arguing men.

Arthur was mid-sentence when a quick strike from Vati to the top of his spinal cord rendered all his words gibberish. Rather than realizing this, he glanced down at his suddenly-tingling fingertips in confusion. Hannah simply hauled Alistair out of his seat and ignored his squawked objections, her shorter but sturdier frame more than a match for his tall, slender frame and brain that was very much against violence towards women but undecided about how to stop them from chauffeuring you out of a room.

With exactly zero ceremony, both men were deposited in the corridor, to the satisfaction of all three of us. I waggled my fingers in a farewell. “Fuck it out or fight it out, I don’t care. But not in my office. Ta!”

I could not hold back the smile anymore when both started pounding on the door for entry, not realizing I had disabled their permissions right after the first volley had been thrown.  It was almost habit, at this point, to disable their permissions to my office when they started bickering, only to restore them when they decided to act like adults.

Clearly that wasn’t the case this time. Oh well, maybe in a couple hours. I would need to ask Xiomara to do a ‘sensor test’ of the gym and med bays to be sure.

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of life-long secrets and little white lies

Merthur Week Day 5: “Any other lies left to tell me?” + Angst

read it also on ao3

Merlin nodded in false agreement and tried to hide the evidence of his heart shattering into pieces.

Rhys wasn’t entirely sure it was a good idea to try to assassinate the king. There was so much that could go wrong, but they were desperate, and the king’s head fetched a pretty penny. Rhys needed the gold, they needed it for their family, for their village—without that gold, the whole village would starve.

So they waited and watched. They learnt that the King went on regular hunting trips into the forest, and they learnt that on those trips the king often brought no one but himself and his manservant.

It couldn’t be better. If Rhys were to take out the king, then the servant would be easy to subdue, and the bodies would lie there for hours when the knights and councilmen would get nervous and go looking. By then, Rhys would be long gone, and their village would be able to eat come winter.

They waited, and when the King and his manservant rode through, Rhys drew back their bow and took aim. The arrow flew true and to Rhys’ horror the servant’s eyes glowed gold and his lips moved to form words the Rhys couldn’t hear. The arrow froze, hovering in the air in front of the king.

Rhys turned and bolted, they weren’t being paid to fight sorcerers, and they didn’t want to be killed either—they would find the needed gold elsewhere, somewhere where there were no sorcerers.

~~*~~*~~

Merlin had expectations on how his magic would be revealed. He’d dreamt the moment; he’d told himself that it would be on his terms or not at all. Somehow, it was fitting that it would be an accident—he’d reacted on instinct, his mind skipping over the consequences in favour of saving Arthur.

Arthur was staring at him in horror, and Merlin dismounted quickly, intending to check on his friend. Instead, he found a sword at his chest, a furious king where he had expected to see a friend.

“Arthur.” Merlin’s voice cracked on the name, and his tears fell freely. He fell to his knees, the ground cold and hard, but Arthur’s expression was pure stone.

“Why would you learn it?”

“I didn’t!”

“Bullshit!” Arthur swore, “bullshit, Merlin, I heard you. You said words—spells.”

“I had no choice! I was born with it; it was either learn to control it, or let it control me!”

“Merlin,” Arthur shook his head, and disappointment flashed in his eyes—there a second, gone in a heartbeat, “Sorcerers have to study to learn magic. It isn’t a born skill.”

“Do you think I wanted this?” Merlin snapped, still kneeling, “To live in fear, to know that if I were to show what I could do you would have me executed? Do you seriously think I learnt it? I would never betray you like that, Arthur, I love you too much to even consider it.”

Arthur turned away, his stony expression cracking for an instant before smoothing back over. He made to walk away and leave Merlin kneeling there, but not before he spoke the final words that broke Merlin’s heart; “Any other lies left to tell me?”

Arthur didn’t want to see him. As soon as they were back in Camelot, Arthur told him he had a day to finish up everything he had to do and leave. Instead of being executed, he was simply being banished—cleaner and far quieter; no need to involve more witnesses. It would be better for both of them, Arthur claimed, if he just left as though of his own accord.

Merlin nodded in false agreement and tried to hide the evidence of his heart shattering into pieces.

~~*~~*~~

Arthur both hated and missed Merlin. He’d thought he’d been beginning to finally count the younger as a friend, he’d thought that Merlin was someone he could always count on and trust. He should’ve known that it was too good to be true—he should’ve guessed that Merlin would betray him in the end.

“Arthur.” Arthur startled and turned to face his sister; she looked furious, and Arthur could’ve sworn he could physically feel her anger. “What’s this about you banishing Merlin?”

“Morgana—”

“No, Arthur,” Morgana snapped, eyes flashing, “What’s Merlin ever done to deserve this?”

“Morgana, the law is clear, he should technically be executed,” Morgana looked like she was about to interrupt, but Arthur ploughed on anyway, “banishment is mercy. It’s all I can do, Morgana, you’ll just have to live with that.”

Arthur stared past her; he’d made his decision, and he wasn’t going to change his mind. Morgana seemed to come to the same conclusion and she sneered at him.

“I’ll just have to live with that?” She asked, far calmer than when she had walked in, “I’ll survive, Arthur, but will you?”

“I wonder,” she opened the door and lingered slightly in the hall, “Arthur Pendragon, can you bring yourself to live without Merlin?”

Arthur closed his eyes as if that could block out his sister’s words.

~~*~~*~~

It took a total of three minutes for Arthur to get sick of George. The servant meant well, he truly did, but he was so formal. It was stifling, and after a week of sentences ending in Sire and perfect deference, Arthur missed Merlin more than he thought he would—try as he might, he just couldn’t change his love to hate overnight.

Love.

Arthur had never actually thought about how he felt for Merlin—he’d never had any true friends (Leon didn’t count, they hadn’t been close until the whole round table thing) let alone anything more, and he’d never recognised what Merlin was to him. Well, not until it was too late.

The knights of the round table hadn’t spoken to him except in increasingly formal tones since Merlin’s banishment, and every time he entered a room either Morgana or Gwen were in they left without a glance towards him. It left him lonelier than he’d ever felt.

Arthur stared at the papers in his hands. Taxes and finance were all well and good for the kingdom, but as a distraction they were hopeless.

His eyes instead fell on the last speech Merlin had written. For a peasant, Merlin’s handwriting was surprisingly neat, and he had a way with words that made Arthur jealous. For some reason, Arthur always kept the latest speech on his desk and when he couldn’t focus he reread the words Merlin wrote for him.

I wonder, Arthur Pendragon, can you live without Merlin?

Morgana’s words echoed in his mind and it was only then that he found the answer.

No.

~~*~~*~~

“Get up!” Arthur snapped at his sister. The round table stood behind him, bleary-eyed and dead on their feet. Morgana groaned, and beside her, Gwen groaned too. “Get up!—both of you—We’re getting Merlin back!”

Morgana sat up sharply, and her gaze fixed on Arthur’s, a predator fixated her prey. It had always been like that, Morgana being smarter, faster, better than Arthur. She knew where to strike to hit a person’s weak points, and she could dig into those points and tear.

“Finally figured it out, haven’t you, brother dearest?”

He nodded; “It’s time for a law change.”

“Well then,” she said, and her eyes burned a bright, magical amber, “what are we waiting for?”

~~*~~*~~

They found Merlin only an hour’s ride away from Camelot, in a small house that hadn’t been there a week before.

Arthur didn’t care to wonder how it was there, nor did he care to think over the way Morgana had led him straight to Merlin’s hideout—never-mind that Merlin clearly hadn’t ever left Camelot, despite his banishment.

“Merlin!” Arthur yelled, and Merlin flung open his door with an expression of stubborn fury.

“Shut up, Arthur,” Merlin snapped, “I know you’re here, and I know why.”

Arthur flushed, but his curiosity was piqued. “How?”

“Morgana told me,” Merlin answered, “but I want to hear it from you before I even consider coming back.”

Arthur took a few slow steps towards Merlin, and when Merlin didn’t run, he took a few more.

“Merlin,” Arthur’s voice broke, and it was so similar to how Merlin had said his name in that last conversation that Arthur felt his heart crack slightly. “Merlin, I’m so sorry.”

Merlin stared, his face a blank mask, “Arthur you banished me for something I had no choice in. You broke my heart with that, sorry doesn’t cut it.”

“I didn’t understand,” Arthur explained, “I was an idiot and a complete arse, and a—a clotpole. I didn’t understand because I had never been bothered to learn what was possible. I’m repealing the ban on magic, and I’m doing that because I didn’t understand because I didn’t know what I had until I lost it.”

Arthur paused for breath, and Merlin let him. “Until I lost you. I realised so much when you were gone, Merlin, I realised how much I love you. How much I need you by my side, even if we stay as friends.”

Merlin’s expression melted, and his eyes shone suspiciously. He surged forward, and Arthur wasn’t entirely sure which one of them initiated the soul-searing kiss, but neither backed down.

It was everything Arthur had ever dreamt of and more, because in his dreams there had been only nameless strangers, but here he had Merlin. Merlin, who kissed Arthur just as hard as Arthur kissed him. Merlin, who had stuck close to Camelot instead of going back to Ealdor.

The kiss sent shivers down his spine, and Arthur could’ve sworn he saw the heavens in Merlin. He loved this man so much, and he would gladly lay down his life, pass the crown over to Morgana if it meant he could spend just one more minute with Merlin.

“Will you, Merlin, allow me the pleasure of courting you?”

“Yes, Arthur,” Merlin answered, “but only if you try to understand and learn. You have to promise to listen and do your best to make this work.”

“I promise.”

All the questions for the relationship meme :^)

All the questions for Sadithur (as discussed!), done.  This one’s going largely under a cut because it’s long!  Numerous other people requested a single answer, but since I got this one, please go ahead and refer to this for it.

PRE-RELATIONSHIP

How did they first meet?

He came to rob her house for survival supplies, and instead ended up rescuing her from being held prisoner by the men who’d murdered her husband.  Not exactly a meet cute.

What was their first impression of each other?

Uhhhh, well.  Arthur’s first impression of Sadie was “poor shocked woman who’s had her house broken into, her husband murdered, and been attacked herself by O’Driscolls for the last three days”.  And Sadie’s first impression of Arthur is probably “large strange man who was in my house, shot the bastards who broke in, and is clearly a violent man himself, even if he saved me, and I’m not inclined to trust pretty much any man right now, let alone one with a gun.”  Not the most promising beginning.

Did any of their friends or family want them to get together?

Hosea definitely hoped for them to become a couple at some point if they survived what was to come, even though he knew at that time neither of them was in a good place for it.  Hosea’s very much the cheerleader for his kids being happy, to judge from his trying to get Abigail and John to reconcile, and given I’m sure he knows about Eliza and Isaac, he knows how lonely and traumatized Arthur is, and also sees the remarkable rapport and ease of manner he develops with Sadie.  I also think Abigail, who loves both Arthur and Sadie deeply, kind of hoped for it also.  She knows how lonely they both are, and sees how they are around each other, and we know she’s definitely a bit of a romantic and a believer in the power of love.  I suspect Tilly might have leaned in that direction too, because Tilly’s perceptive AF, and Arthur’s Big Bro. Who felt romantic feelings first?

Arthur.  Understandably so, as his grief for Isaac and Eliza is further in the past than Sadie’s for Jake.  It was still only a matter of a couple of months difference, though. Did either of them try to resist their feelings?

Not so much resisted as restrained.  They readily accepted they felt that way, and that the person they felt romantic feelings towards was more than worthy of it.  They were just questioning whether it was right and fair to put those feelings on the other person.  Both of them had concerns--Arthur felt like he had nothing to offer Sadie and had no right to impose on her like that with his feelings, and Sadie had concerns that Arthur would just be bulldozed into a relationship from just being happy to be wanted, and she was unwilling to hurt him like that.

If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think? Almost immediately the two of them click in a profound way and they’re very close and comfortable with each other.  The trust and affection and deep friendship is already there, so I don’t think they’d be shocked to hear they’d be so important to each other.  But they would likely have both been very surprised at the idea of also being together romantically and sexually at some point.  Not as a reflection of the other person being unsuitable, but because after so much trauma and self-loathing and loss, neither of them could imagine having that in their lives.

GENERAL

Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?

Neither of them really made a move.  It just sorta happened as a slow change over a couple of years from friends to a cohabiting queerplatonic couple to spouses.  

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

In a sense, their first date was that shopping-and-gunfighting trip to Rhodes, which was pretty memorable, and shows off their immediate easy chemistry and battle couple potential.  But in terms of a genuine romantically intended “first date”, not really.  They were essentially a QPR by the time they admitted to now having romantic/sexual feelings as well, so things were intense and committed enough already that they didn’t need a date.  They just moved right towards getting married.

What was their first kiss like?

They both had resolved to admit their feelings to each other after the wedding of two of their friends.  Then they got a little tipsy at the wedding, ended up saying a bit too much, and Sadie took the initiative and kissed Arthur.  Given he kissed back very enthusiastically, she could be pretty sure he wasn’t just playing along with her.  But they realized they needed to talk, so they tabled it until the next day when they were sober again and could talk about it.

Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?

For Sadie, no.  She’d been married very happily to Jake.  For Arthur, this was the first relationship with solid grounding and a solid future rather than youthful fantasy like Mary, and he’s surprised at how easy it is to be with Sadie, including being vulnerable, because of that trust.  It’s also the first time he’s had sex and actually really been comfortable and enjoyed it rather than just being left feeling awkward and even more alone, given he comes across very strongly as some type of asexual (I write him specifically as demisexual) and didn’t have opportunities for the emotional intimacy he needs to be interested in sex.  Both of them actually had their first kiss in a same-sex romance, though Sadie wasn’t able to acknowledge hers as romantic until much later.

What’s their height difference? Age difference?

Given Roger and Alex’s heights, and their corresponding relative heights in-game looking accurate to that height differential, I put Arthur at 6’ish and Sadie at 5’4”ish, so there’s an 8 inch height difference.  As for age, it’s canonical that Arthur was born in 1863.  I have him as a July birthdate, so he’s 35 for the early bits of the game, and 36 for most of it.  Sadie appears to be 30ish (she’s definitely no 24-year-old), and I write her as having been born in April of 1868.  So she’s 31 for all of RDR2.   That puts their age difference as a smidge under 5 years. 

What’s their relationship with each other’s families?

Both of them have lost their biological parents by 1899.  Arthur’s only bio sibling (David) died even before Arthur even knew him.  Sadie lost an older brother (Henry), and she’s become estranged from her younger sister Caroline, though they patch that up.  Arthur has yet to meet Caro, though, as she’s been living in Oregon.  So the only real family in question was the gang, and clearly Sadie was not only accepted by them, she actually stepped up and led them.

Who takes the lead in social situations?

Sadie tends to, and Arthur readily relies upon and defers to her experience there.  He’ll be the first to admit his life didn’t exactly teach him the boundaries and everyday pleasantries of Victorian social order, and sometimes that’s to the good.  Sadie’s not exactly a paragon of it herself as a hardscrabble farm girl who doesn’t defer to misogyny, but she’s aware of some of those rules, boundaries, and undercurrents in a way Arthur isn’t.  So he’s not too proud to let her take the lead in a social situation, or to ask her advice in dealing with something without giving offense.

Who gets jealous easier?

Arthur would have, early on.  He was far more insecure in himself (and as Sadie admits, he’ll always be a little more fragile than her in that realm), but he was probably more likely to morosely turn doubts on himself as a perceived inadequacy and personal failure rather than to get jealous of Sadie.  Being romantically or sexually jealous really kind of requires insecurity and lack of trust, and they’ve moved far beyond that.

LOVE

Who said “I love you” first?

I had to double check.  Arthur said it first when he proposed to her, but Sadie immediately followed it.

What are their primary love languages?

For both, I think Quality Time/Acts of Service.  Showing love for both of them is in spending time together doing things, doing little things for each other, and basking in that friendship that’s the solid foundation of everything between them.  There’s a bit of Physical Touch in there also due to both of them being somewhat touch-starved.  I do think Arthur has some Words of Affirmation in there as well, because sometimes he truly needs to hear praise and affection deliberately and unequivocally stated to be able to believe it’s real, and Sadie’s come to realize that and respond to it.

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?

They’re not really an overt PDA couple.  What they have they consider generally very intense but private.  They do like to cuddle in private, and small touches here and there are common enough. 

What are their favorite things to do together?

Just spend time together, to be honest.  It could be reading together (silently or one of them aloud), playing music together, doing chores, cooking, spending time with the kids, training horses, lying in bed talking, or anything.  They just genuinely enjoy each other’s company.  

Who’s better at comforting the other?

It’s a learned skill for both of them since neither was great at articulating feelings, but the months at Las Hermanas when they were both healing psychologically while Arthur was healing physically did a lot. They’re both fairly good at nonverbal comfort, and reaffirming each other. 

Who’s more protective?

Pick a day.  It can vary.  ;)  I think we see in-game they’re both fiercely protective of each other.  I do think Arthur has the knack of being protective of her in a non-patronizing, non-paternalistic way, which Sadie appreciates.  It’s still been hard for her to accept that needing and taking help isn’t admitting she’s weak.  Arthur kind of had to get over that notion during his TB convalescence because he constantly needed help for things.

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

A mix of both.  Usually not big overt dramatic demonstrations, since that’s not their dynamic, but quick little affectionate touches (on the arm, the cheek, etc.), using fond nicknames and pet names, and things like that. 

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

I’ll keep working on this and probably post some of my Sadithur playlist at some point.

What kind of nicknames do they call each other?

“Art” and “Daisy” are their private affectionate nicknames, given Sadie jokingly calling him “artsy Art” as he’s an artist, and Arthur admitting he couldn’t come up with a fitting nickname from “Sadie” and just rearranging the sounds a bit.  After Sadie used it in-game, “honey” is probably the most common pet name they use.

DOMESTIC LIFE

If they get married, who proposes?

Arthur did.  That’s not because Sadie is a traditionalist by any means.  But I do think there’s the part of her that likes to know she’s not steamrollering someone, and that they got to take their own initiative.  Then especially in Arthur’s case, I think he needed to ask.  She needed to be sure that Arthur wanted to be with her, rather than it being a case of her wanting him and him going along with it from being happy to be wanted by her.  I also think he needed it too to prove to himself he could be confident enough in what he had to offer Sadie to ask, and to stand equal to her. 

What’s the wedding like? Who attends?

They had a very small wedding at their home in Chuparosa, for several reasons. One is because they’re just not the type for huge demonstrative parties for their own sake, even if they enjoy them when they’re celebrations for someone else.  Neither of them really likes being a massive center of attention.  Two, they were fairly alone.  They’d made some friends in Mexico, but aside from Charles (who they knew went to Canada), everyone else from the gang was a mystery to them.  Three, they kept it small and quiet also since they’d sorta accidentally ended up playing fake married since Arthur’s admission to Las Hermanas in order to stick together.  So everyone already assumed they were a married couple, and they didn’t want it to become a big obvious thing.  Sister Calderon was the officiant (since it was a secular wedding of two avowed non-Catholics), and their friends Pedro and Juanita Estevez from Las Hermanas were the witnesses.  Dr. Felipe Garcia, Arthur’s doctor who’d also become a friend, also attended, as did Albert Mason, who they’d found in Escalera a few weeks before on yet another wildlife photography expedition. 

How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like?

Mild Sunrise spoiler ahoy, but as of 1908 they’ll have four: Beatrice (born 1902), Matthew (born 1903), Susanna (born 1905, adopted by them in 1907) and Andrew (born in 1908).  I also see them as likely taking in some older kids later once Susie and Andy are a bit older, because Arthur in particular would be passionate about the need to try to give a couple of orphaned and/or homeless teens and near-teens a home.  He knows the kind of people who take you in, or if it doesn’t happen at all, can make a huge difference.  As for personality, Bea’s very much a fierce no-nonsense sort but very protective of the younger kids, Mattie’s a sweet boy who’s going to become a gentle giant, and as for Susie and Andy, I’ll wait to see what they tell me.  Andy’s not born yet, and Susie’s both very young and dealing with the trauma of losing her family to Micah’s gang, so she’s understandably not showing much of her true personality just now. 

Do they have any pets?

Aside from a lot of horses?  They ended up with a black cat (Dido) at the very end of 1899, adopted during the first weeks of Arthur’s convalescence at Las Hermanas and helping keep him company during all that bed rest.  Then they picked up a stray dog (Dusty) in Armadillo in 1901 during fighting the cholera epidemic--this is the Armadillo “Mutt” in-game.  The most recent addition is a border collie puppy (Dorothy), who they’ve adopted from MacFarlane’s Ranch in 1907, given Charlie the border collie being there in RDR1.  

Who’s the stricter parent?

This ended up being something of a big fight, actually, and probably the first huge blow-out in their marriage.  Sadie felt like she was the only one providing discipline and accountability as Bea got old enough to start to need it.  Arthur understandably was feeling his way through parenting since mostly what he has is negative examples from Lyle (physical abuse) and Dutch (profound psychological abuse).  Even Hosea’s parenting was sort of indirect and elusive sometimes.  So he was being very hands-off on discipline out of a need to make certain the kids knew they were loved, and to not worry that he was hurting them.  But he couldn’t do that and leave Sadie all the heavy lifting while he gets to be identified as the “nice” parent and the joybringer, and the two of them came to realize that.  I’d say they’re about even now.   

Who kills the bugs in the house?

Both of them.  Neither is squeamish by any means.

How do they celebrate holidays?

Usually fairly quietly at home with family, but with remembrances of things dear to them.  Songs and music, decorations, favorite foods, little family rituals.  They like to keep that kind of thing alive where they can.

Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?

Sadie.  She knows how hard farming is, so she’s up and at it when there’s work to be done.  But she never had Arthur’s long years of anxious need to stay busy no matter what so he was proving his usefulness.

Who’s the better cook?

They’re both pretty decent at it.  Sadie actually likes cooking, but she doesn’t like being expected to do it just because she’s a woman, so she’s rather protective of that notion.  Arthur came to it late, as kitchen duty was one of the first light jobs a TB patient at Las Hermanas could have after being allowed off total bed rest.  Given how bored he was by then, cooking became something really exciting, and he found out he actually enjoyed it, both the kind of soothing ritual of all those steps, and then producing something tangible by it. 

New Beginnings

@cassunzelweek

AO3

Note: I have decided that all of my pieces for Cassunzel Week will be part of an interlinked series of vignettes, all dealing with Cassandra’s return to Corona and Rapunzel, as queen, trying to make things work in a relationship with both Cass and Eugene – a relationship that could have serious fallout for the realm. As such, you should probably read both pieces I wrote for the previous days, especially the one I wrote yesterday. Yesterday’s vignette, called Secrets and Promises, dealt with a young guard accusing Rapunzel of adultery and dishonoring the throne, ultimately leading to a trial by combat where Cass volunteers to be the queen’s champion. Cass prevails and the final scene is of her and Rapunzel in the gardens after the horrifying ordeal of the day. In today’s piece, I attempt to shed more light on how the relationship began as well as provide details of the consequences of that combat.

Also, I love hearing your feedback and your thoughts. Please review and tell me what you think. You comments inspire me.

***

“I love you, Raps.”

She had spoken those words before her departure and letting them fall from her lips was like letting a sword fall to the ground.

Like letting a sword fall after battle, letting it clatter to the ground – its heaviness no longer in her hands.

Yet even with a sword relinquished, even with the battle done, a heaviness remains – the heaviness of consequence.

Letting the sword fall, letting the breastplate fall away to expose the heart, does not heal the wounds, does not give relief.

She thought the words would be like a cordial to her wounds – and they were – they were, after a fashion.

And Rapunzel’s words… Rapunzel’s embrace… they were a more healing cordial.

And yet, wounds still can heal imperfectly.

Wounds can still be left to fester.

Cassandra had thought, for once in her life, she had not been letting the wounds fester.

Thought she had been getting them out in the open, baring her heart.

And perhaps she had.

There had been a softness in Rapunzel’s response, as of understanding...

As though Rapunzel knew what she meant, what she truly meant – and Rapunzel’s embrace, in the moment, had been such a balm to her…

In the moment.

A chance to be open, a chance to be true – Cass thought she had taken that chance, and that, with that openness, the days ahead could be her new beginning.

The wounds of her past ready for mending.

Yet, when Cassandra returned to Corona –

When she felt Rapunzel’s touch again –

All those unmended wounds she hoped were healed reopened.

As though all the openness, all the truth that those simple words, “I love you, Raps,” had carried amounted to nothing – because it was still equivocation in its way, still tucked in the discreetness of a friend, of a traveling companion, of an honorable knight…

Even if it had been like the shaking of a body after battle to say it, the shaking after sword and armor fall away and you have nothing but your flesh which can be hewn – and you know how well it can be hewn because you have been on the field – and it feels like you are being hewn all over again, and so you spasm at the memory that is like a phantom –

Even if it had been like that, it had not been enough.

Except… maybe it was?

Maybe it was enough and Rapunzel knew, Rapunzel understood. Maybe Cass knew she understood. Maybe Cass understood herself, understood it was enough. She didn’t have to do any more. Doing more, saying more would only reopen wounds for Rapunzel. Doing more, saying more would only hurt herself and the ones she loved. Doing more, saying more was selfish… but…

But wasn’t letting the wounds fester the egotism that led her to take the Moonstone?

Wasn’t saying nothing just letting the wounds rot more darkly?

And so she spoke, horrified all the while, horrified that with every sentence, she was hurting Rapunzel – horrified that she was doing this for herself –

(would that be bad? to be doing this for herself, to be honest with herself and with Rapunzel? but she wasn’t… not… honest with herself – but then was she doing this for Rapunzel? she was, and yet she was so scared, scared of losing Rapunzel as a friend, scared of revulsion – but even revulsion was a certainty, a stability –)

– she let herself spill forth, said I love you, I’ve loved you for so long, the way you love Eugene, the way Eugene loves you and she was crying and her tears spilled with the words, spilled like the blood and pus of wounds and Rapunzel’s face was a mask –

– until Rapunzel was kissing her and still Cassandra had no certainty – could not be sure it was not a kiss of pity, of pity and affection, an angel’s kiss, white-marble and aloof – and when the kiss deepened, when Cassandra realized she was savoring the sweetness of Rapunzel’s lips and Rapunzel was savoring hers – not white-marble but rose-flesh in all its loving warmth – when Cassandra realized what was happening, she tore away –

Stillness.

Stillness in the candelabra’s light. In its pulse.

Pulsing heat, tinging their tear-stained faces (Cassandra’s tears had smeared Rapunzel’s face in the kiss, mingled with the beads of sweat upon her brow) with hues of orange.

Warm as rose-flesh.

Weak as the walls that keep love out.

The walls should have been stronger.

But no – they should not have been. Cass knew walls too well, knew how they confined.

The walls around Rapunzel’s heart…

Walls higher and harder than the walls of her tower.

Rapunzel, who exposed herself to the world, who scaled mountains in her bare feet, who seemed as open and exposed and true as the free air of a meadow, as the beams of the sun through the blue of the sky…

One’s feet must be tough to scale bitter slopes barefoot.

One’s will must be tougher.

Harder walls than Cassandra’s breaking down.

The understanding that Cassandra had sensed, the understanding that had been understanding.

Understanding of Cassandra, understanding of herself.

Exposed.

Buried.

Buried like the nagging fear that something had been off in the tower, buried like the dream deferred at every silken scoff of Gothel’s…

Exposed like the bolt of light to the heart, the sun-splash that turned waves to fire that rose and crashed in purifying blaze – epiphany’s blaze – as the sun-pattern of all her artistry glistened before her and reawakened memories – let in the softness and tenderness of love shut out…

And then Eugene at the doorway, blinking in understanding, making some glib comment that diffused the tension – gave them all relief –

For the life of them now, neither Rapunzel nor Cassandra could remember what he had said…

New beginnings.

New beginnings, new beginnings, new beginnings.

New beginnings until the next new beginning and the next.

Departing Corona, returning to Corona. Letting Cass go, praying for Cass’s return, praying secretly, knowing the prayer and yet not knowing it while Eugene knew, while Eugene understood and she understood but neither saying it just as Cassandra never said it – except when she did,  except when they all did, moving heaven and earth, defying a demon-sorceress out of love for each other – Eugene reaching out to pull Cass into the hug –

The trial by combat was over.

The boy drummed out of the guards and sent into exile.

Queen Rapunzel, beloved by her people.

Queen Rapunzel, kneeling at the boy’s feet before the duel – speaking to him softly, sensitively, as she spoke with all – tears welling in her eyes, voice cracking, the tenderness becoming a plea, the softest plea – she could make him understand, she was not his queen but a young woman, a young woman who had endured so much, so much pain – tower-walls high about her even when the tower had collapsed and crumbled into dust…

He spat on her – and she sobbed.

His spit mingled with her tears.

Ascending after that, judge and judged, Guinevere and Arthur both.

Forced to be white-marble and aloof, the statue of a queen, the artifice-monument to justice –

Forced to be white-marble when she was rose-flesh. Terrified the terror behind her eyes had already betrayed her, half-hoping that it had because then Cass would be spared and the boy would be spared –

Except that Cass would not be spared.

Rapunzel was queen and Eugene her husband.

None would turn on her.

(Was she so sure of that? Was not this boy living proof to the contrary?)

But Rapunzel had antiquity as armor – and Eugene, the marriage-bonds.

Cass had – her own nobility of heart, the name she had made in her travels, through her heroism. Nobility’s absolution, however, what did that matter when set against the image of her – face of ash, hair like blue fire – witch-at-heart, seducer, deceiver?

Cass would let the mob tear her to pieces for Rapunzel’s sake…

Let them cut her throat to see if ash poured out instead of blood, a demon’s homunculus and not a woman – and Rapunzel would be forced to watch as deep red blood spilled from Cassandra’s pallid neck, pallid as the corpse-homunculus the mob had already named her, pallid as the rose-life ebbed away…

But that was a nightmare that had passed…

The boy was gone, giving way to a new beginning…

New beginnings and beginnings and beginnings.

One after another with Sisyphean incessancy…

Hello I would love to hear about mjn string quartet au!

why yes! thank you for asking! 😏

lmao this took soooo long my sincere apologies for the wait!

the basics:

so mjn is a string quartet (which is what it says on the tin so idk why this is a whole bullet point)

martin = violin I, douglas = violin II, arthur = violist, carolyn = cellist

herc is a violinist and pianist, the latter for trios and stuff

theresa is a pianist and books them to play at an investiture ceremony

they basically go around playing for people’s weddings and as ambient music for other events (mr birling demands ambient music every year or something like that i haven’t thought that out)

okay now for some ✨details✨

martin and douglas as violinists are the easiest translations from charter airline to string quartet bc they play the same instrument.

the chaos comes from martin being tasked to lead, but being awful at it

“martin, for heaven’s sake—give a clearer signal or don’t give one at all!” -carolyn, probably

user maia artxmis i know you were in a quartet with me once where i was violin I and i didn’t know how to lead....i’m so sorry....nearer my god to thee DO NOT INTERACT !!!

to martin’s credit he is very diligent. he knows his parts pretty well, and his melodic interpretation isn’t bad, it’s just that he could be better at. a lot of stuff

douglas is very good at supporting a melody but he is even better at playing the melody, to martin’s general chagrin

but douglas makes a very good second violinist in that he works well with the lower instruments (i mean lower like range not in any hierarchical sense)

he knows how to defer and he is good at it. martin....meh.

also i was a second violinist for my stint as an ensemble musician so i May be biased... 🤭

arthur is a violist

lil rant: i absolutely love violas and i don’t get why people make fun of them or the people who play them !! the viola is a beautiful instrument and in a different life i would have chosen it! also my violin teacher plays the viola and she’s a literal genius and she’s one of my favorite people on this green planet and i would Die For Her !! so keep the viola jokes off my tl !! 😤

arthur: “it’s like a cello and a violin, but mixed together. it’s got a C string, like a cello, but you can put it on your shoulder like a violin! and furthermore, i don’t have to buy an extra seat for it like Mum does whenever we go travel—”

carolyn: “thank you arthur, that’ll do...”

arthur unironically sees the viola, and alto clef for that matter, as a “best of both worlds”/“happy medium” type deal

nobody else quite understands why arthur thinks this way, especially about alto clef, but he is quite good at the viola so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

carolyn is a cellist. this is because she believes in bass clef supremacy.

also the cello is a beautiful instrument and in a different life i would have chosen it so this is kind of self indulgence too

literally what am i talking about? this whole au is the peak of self indulgence.....

carolyn also has played the double bass, not so much nowadays because she cannot fit it into her car

but if a chamber piece calls for it (and i am looking straight at the trout quintet for this) she will play it and she will look absolutely badass while playing it

i’m talking this level of cool. look closely at how the bassist on the left interacts with the celli. and how they all look at each other but i digress so natural! so fluid! i swoon! i first saw this recording in like. 2017 or something. i haven’t recovered

honestly though that video^ gives me so much serotonin i wanna play in an ensemble again :(((((( also someone i won’t name kinda threw shade at that recording once bc it’s not what you’d expect from a string ensemble and i was Ready To Fight

so yeah, there ya have it, how mjn would be as a string quartet in my head! >.< hope u like it !!

RWBY and Villain Motivations

One of the big disappointments of the show, they never tell what is actually motivating the villains.  They do this so they can have the villains do whatever they want without it breaking continuity, but watching the show it still looks like a violation.

So, my headcanon for RWBY villain motivations:

-Roman Torchwick:  He and Neo were street urchins who wanted to be someone.  They wanted to be lavish and important.  They then got pulled into the mob, only to realize how horrible it is.  Roman explicitly tells us that the only reason he’s with them at the Fall of Beacon is because they would kill him, otherwise.  He’s in too deep.

-Neo:  Roman.  She wanted to share the lifestyle with him.  She wanted to share her life with him.  This is why I absolutely hate her recruitment by Cinder, as Cinder offers her absolutely NO reason for joining her.  Unless Neo was just planning to use it to stab Cinder in the back and disappear, which she would have done in S7.  It seemed like they wanted to use her abilities to cause discord, without giving her any reason to be there.  Just because she’s mute, doesn’t mean she doesn’t have any motivations; doesn’t mean she’s a blank slate.  At least most Silent Knight fics have Jaune cherishing her.

-Cinder:  Power.  She doesn’t want to hurt people to hurt them, she wants to hurt them to make herself feel powerful.  She has spent all her life getting power, and now that she has it, she’s not about to let it go.  Which is why I hate her S6 and beyond outfits, because beauty IS power, and Cinder knows this.  She knows all it takes for most men to defer to her is a sexy walk and a harsh stare.  Her character arc, instead of being generic villain arc, could be that she doesn’t need Salem to make her powerful.  Even further, she doesn’t need to be a villain to be powerful.

-Emerald:  Love.  She loves Cinder.  Cinder rescued her from being a street rat, which is why it’s weird to see her make no attempt to leave Salem and rejoin Cinder.  Like seriously, her arc could be love overcomes.  Even evil love.

-Mercury:  Hurting people.  He likes being a mob enforcer.  His reaction is probably the best of all the villain in S6, as he genuinely doesn’t know what to do with his life.  His character arc could be to find his own path in life.  He might still be a villain, but it would be HIS path, not someone else’s.  He could end up being a threat to Salem herself.

-Hazel:  His is the most confused, as he blames Oz for his daughter’s death, not, say, the Grimm that they will be explicitly fighting on the first day of school.  But, this could be the most fun to play with, as while he hates Oz, his boss, Salem, does not.

Arthur Watts:  Himself.  He wants to do what he wants to do, and if the kingdom’s petty ethical rules won’t let him, well, he’ll just find his own way.  Rather than being loyal to Salem, he’s USING her.  Salem thinks she’s rewarding him, when she’s being his useful idiot.

Tyrian Callows:  Masochism and mommy issues.  If he could find a sadistic woman to abuse him without being abusive. he wouldn’t need Salem.  He seriously needs someone to walk all over him, but in a loving way.

Salem:  Suicide by god, along with a bittersweet romance.  She’s still in love with Oz, but the years... have not been kind to either of them, and now all they can do is lash out at each other.

-Raven:  Survival.  She thinks her family has picked a fight with an unkillable monster, and her survival instincts are keeping her out of it.

-Adam:  As Blake says, Spite.  He just wants to tear down everything in front of him.  He only wants Blake there because he decided that’s what he wants, and for a time she was a useful idiot.  He’s deluding himself into thinking she will be the Blake he once had.

the tides know our names- 14/?

Summary:   After losing the throne to his brother Orm is working with Arthur to try to help Atlantis move forward. A few months after this Elara, part of an ancient order of prescient Atlanteans known as Tidewatchers, has a vision of Orm’s death. Predicting and reading the future through the tides of fate has never been easy but Elara is in for the challenge of a lifetime working with her former king to save his life.

Part: 14/?

Word Count: 4,057

Warnings: action and violence

Read on Ao3 

start from the beginning

“I still don’t like this,” He finally sighed, returning her gaze once more. “But I’ll trust you to get us out of this.”

-

Elara did her best to hide her surprise and gratitude. She could tell this was not an easy feat for him and she wanted so very much to make sure he knew she didn’t take this for granted. She wanted nothing more than to bask in this moment, in this very high compliment of his trust but there wasn’t time for that.

She couldn’t help but smile only a little at him as she did her best to move forward with their discussion, “Okay, so we’re reasonably sure that he’s after you, but since we’re not sure how  he’s tracking us, we’ve got to come up with some sort of way to lure him to where we want him to go.”

“You’re suggesting one of us lead him away and the other be waiting to attack him?” He clarified. If he was going to go along with this ludicrous proposal he wanted to be sure they did it right.

“Exactly. But I could use your help fine-tuning it, you’re better at this sort of strategizing than I am.”

She was flattering him and he knew it, no doubt trying to soften the blow of him agreeing to her idea or perhaps thank him for trusting her. And while what she said was true, she wasn’t exactly useless in such strategizing. With her knack for patterns and predictions she had skill all her own.

He leaned forward, shooting her an almost teasing look, “Let me guess, you think you should be the one to lead him to the ambush?”

She cocked an eyebrow at him, “Yes, because it would be foolish to have the injured tidewatcher be the one attacking instead of the seasoned warrior.”

He just barely kept an eye roll contained. She was laying it on thick but he didn’t mind as much as he should.

“Alright, I think the key here is both to distract and mislead him enough so he doesn’t notice it’s just you he’s tracking while finding a more advantageous spot for an ambush of our own. Think you can sense that from here?”

She cocked her head, “That’s not the traditional use of the tides but it’s worth a shot.”

She closed her eyes and Orm couldn’t help but stare at her, trying not to second guess his decision to trust her. He wanted her to be right and wanted this to work out but he didn’t want her to get hurt even worse. She was one of the strongest and smartest people he knew but there are somethings that just came down to chance and chance could never be trusted.

Elara looked to him again, “I think I’ve got something.”

The cave system led out to series of cliffs and winding paths down to shore. If Elara could get back above the cave system onto the forest floor proper, she could stand a better chance at attracting the attention of the tracker. Meanwhile, Orm could continue through the caves to the cliffs and attack the man from there. Orm also comforted himself that if he heard any explosions or signs of a fight from up above he could climb out of the caves and come to Elara’s aid. It wasn’t a perfect plan but it would have to do.

They found a smaller section of cave ahead of them where the roof was much lower and there were ledges that Elara could could ascend to get up above. Wariness was seeping through Orm as he ran through the plan in his mind again, looking for any way to better guarantee success but he knew they’d already done the best they could. All that was left was to act before they lost their window for surprise.

Orm just couldn’t shake this sense of dread at them splitting up. While it wasn’t especially productive, he felt responsible for her and could only assume that it was a hold over from being king. As king, he’d been responsible for the safety and well being of a whole kingdom but since his flight from Atlantis, his purview of citizenry had been reduced to a kingdom of one. Travelling with Elara was nothing like ruling a kingdom and he would be a fool to try to command let alone rule someone like Elara, but that compulsion to protect had not gone away. Right now, that impulse was especially strong considering she was only up here in harm’s way on his behalf.

He knew that this was their best shot at getting out of this scrape but he wasn’t sure what he would do if something serious happened to her when he wasn’t there to watch her back. As a ruler and a warrior, he’d always prided himself for his ability to distance himself from his emotions to make the hard calls. And yet, doing the same now was harder than it should be.

Elara, meanwhile, was rechecking her bandages which Orm had expertly dressed, and feeling out their path and plan in the tides for any last minute adjustments. She was confident in her decision and in her plan but the execution of it was still daunting. She and Orm had left behind their people when they’d left Atlantis, and something in Elara resisted the idea of splitting from Orm. It felt like once they separated, she’d be truly alone. Elara had to take a breath to steady herself. She had to believe in herself, in Orm, and in the tides to see them through.

She looked to Orm now, trying not to overthink things. He met her gaze calmly and gave her a small nod, as if to reinforce his trust in her. He trusted her enough to believe they could get through this. It was a small thing, but it helped. It made her feel like, even if they were not going through this next bit of their journey together, he was with her in this struggle.

“Give me a boost?” She asked him, tilting her head up to the hole in the roof. There was no point in asking if he was ready, they had to be.

He knelt down, making  a cradle with his hands to give her a step up. She put her foot in place and then grabbed onto his shoulders to leverage herself up, she then very slowly, careful of her injured side, stepped from his hands to the next ledge up. Once his hands were free, he extended one against the small of her back to keep her from tilting back while he held the other out in case she started to tip.

Cautiously she climbed the small rocky outcropping until she stood on the forest floor, looking down to see Orm down below. She wanted to tell him to be safe but worried he might find it condescending, instead she just raised a hand in farewell and said, “See you soon.”

He nodded, swallowing down anything else he might say and simply repeated her, making it sound more like a promise. “See you soon.”

Elara gazed down at him for another few seconds before straightening her back and turning away from the hole to begin her trek to the ambush spot. They needed to be quick about things now.

Following suit, he turned to follow his own path in the tunnels, careful to make as little noise as possible, finding small comfort in hearing the rustling of leaves and the snapping of twigs as Elara made her own way up above. For the first part of the journey, he could walk roughly parallel to her and could hear if anything went wrong but in some places the tunnels veered away and deeper under the surface.

Orm could still see because he was used to seeing in the depths of the ocean, but he didn’t linger long enough to make any comparisons between the two. He was swift and efficient, prioritizing speed over everything else. This risky plan would only work if he either kept pace with Elara up above or beat her to the rendezvous point. His tactical mind was always planning several steps ahead and prone to envisioning the worst so that he could plan around it but he was very careful to keep those possibilities out of his mind’s eye.

He couldn’t properly strategize what he would do if he was too late but it wasn’t something he could wrap his head around and still be productive. Following his earlier advice to Elara, he just focused on his breathing as he navigated the winding path she’d laid out for him. He’d worry later.

Elara, meanwhile, was having perhaps more difficulty with her path through the constantly changing and rocky terrain due to her side constantly hitching and stinging with the exertion. The one benefit to their plan was that she didn’t have to worry about how much noise she made. In fact, it was best if she attracted some attention.

The tides gave no indication of pursuit but they had a different energy than she’d felt throughout the rest of the day. Earlier all she’d been able to feel was an angry, uncomfortable buzzing. The tides had been oppressive and intent on making her aware of the threat, but now, while they still hummed and remained taut with the presence of the hunter, it felt less threatening. And that, abstract as it may be, enforced to her that she’d made the right call with this plan. The swells of the tide felt more manageable and it made her feel like they could get through this.

As their paths diverged she found herself latching onto Orm’s tides as she felt him on his own path. She tried to tell herself it was just a precaution but there were nerves there that were hard for her to name.

If this had been a week ago when they’d first come to the surface, she might have expected him to make a beeline for the ocean and return to Atlantis, but she didn’t fear that from him now. He seemed to show real concern and even at times, a deference for her gifts. She liked to imagine that he might care for her but even if that wasn’t the case, he was smart enough not to try to go his own way in this situation, especially considering how against the idea of splitting up he had been. No, they would find each other again.

Even as she thought this, she felt the tight thread of their attacker pulse with his approach. She quickened her pace, it would not do for him to catch up before she was at the appropriate point. Orm seemed to be right on track, but she had to speed up.

Elara’s main concern was that she could sense the approach of the attacker but she couldn’t be completely sure if he was following her or Orm and it was difficult to narrow in on that particular pattern while maintaining her current speed. She let everything go except focusing on putting one foot in front of the other and the tides around her. In this focused manner she could feel the intent of their pursuer and tried to use that to hone in on their location. This, again, wasn’t the traditional use of the tides but sort of a variant of the battle tides Zult had taught her.

And there, there he was, following her progress and closing in. The tides showed that the man had caught her trail would probably catch up with her in less than five minutes. But that was too soon! She didn’t think she’d get to the cliffside rendezvous point for another ten minutes. She dropped the thread of the tides and put all of her efforts into increasing speed. If she could just get their faster, maybe Orm would hear the commotion if she was attacked.

With this in mind, feeling the tension getting tighter around her, she thought of one other option though it was a long shot. Tidewatchers could communicate by mentally manipulating the tides around them and sending images or feelings to other Tidewatchers. If this had been A’bree or Calysa, she wouldn’t have hesitated but she wasn’t sure if Orm would even feel it or know what it meant if she tried to send him a message the same way. Back when she was a novice and first instructed in this way, it had felt exceptionally foreign and hard to pick up in the beginning. It was a skill that had to be honed meticulously through extended awareness in the tides and how their patterns naturally flowed.

Only because they’d had such a heightened awareness and prolonged exposure to each other did Elara even think it stood half a chance. She kept it simple, focusing more on emotions like urgency and danger and then wrapped them around the image of where she saw the attacker catching up with her and then sent them down the tides to Orm. She kept up that routine while running until her side ached. Her injury begged her to slow down but she had to give herself every chance she could for this to work.

She’d been at this grueling pace for a few minutes when she heard the crashing behind her and knew she was almost out of time. She scanned the forest around her for any coverage she could find. The terrain had become hilly and pocked with boulders in places where the tunnel system met the forest floor. She couldn’t hope to make it to the original ambush spot but she could at least make herself less of an easy target. Ducking behind the boulders, she pulled her knives from her boots and strategized.

She covered what distance she could, trying to stay out of view while constantly sending her message along the tides to Orm. The crunching of the underbrush grew louder until she no longer felt like she could risk leaving the cover of the trees and rock formation she was leaning against. Like it or not, this was gonna be where she had to make the most of things. About 12 feet ahead of her was a sudden opening to the caves beneath which would be her goal for her plan. It was a bit of a drop, about 20 feet so she had a reasonable chance of injuring or delaying him if she could throw him in there.

A slight rustle on the other side of her cover told Elara her time was almost up. She focused on her location and her connection to Orm, this time sending the word “hurry” down the line and prayed he could interpret what she’d sent. She adjusted her grip on her blades and tensed for the fight. Then he was there, a man all in black, passing right beside her with his large, unwieldy cannon, his eyes fixed ahead, searching for her. She did not wait.

Elara leapt for the man, and used her one chance at surprise to rip the cannon from him and toss it as far as she could behind them. Then she swung a dagger with her other hand. She may have stripped him of his weapon but he was far from helpless and blocked her knife easily enough.  

She tried again with the other blade and managed to graze his arm before he knocked her back. She stumbled against the rock she’d hid behind but was quick to launch herself off it, aiming to move them closer to the hole.

The shock wearing off, and showing anger at the wound, the man switched to the offensive. It was only through the tides that she was able to keep up with him. She wasn’t especially short but he had several inches on her and with her exhaustion, she could feel the disadvantage more. She’d been trained to use her size to an advantage against large adversaries and she would be using every trick in the book she had. At least he wasn’t so very large. While tall, he was lean, but also built and knew how to fight.

He was quick to catch one of her knives mid-strike and wrest it from her. She allowed him to push her back by several feet because it took them closer to the pit. She tried to keep aware of the small hole behind her, lest she fall in it herself, but it was all she could do to keep up with him. She was worn out already from her hurried trek here and her side burned with each strike and dodge. If the man was tired from his pursuit of them at all, he didn’t show it. His blows were relentless and while she avoided several, he still got in several good hits.

He swung with her knife to her right and while she was able to block it, he surprised her with a sucker punch to the left, hitting her right where the splinter had struck. Air gusted out of her and she couldn’t help her wince of pain.

She didn’t know if he’d known about her injury before but from the way his eyes lit up as he saw blood begin to seep through the bandage, he certainly did now. In any other situation she would have sighed. She didn’t need to be a tidewatcher to know this was going to hurt.

He was a skilled fighter and his strength and size were enough to nearly overwhelm her. She tried her best to protect her side but he still got in another good punch. Her only consolation was they were getting closer to the cave opening but with each strike dealt and dodged, she began to worry she wouldn’t have the strength to get him down there without falling in herself.

They were probably 5 feet from the hole when, while attempting to dodge a vicious kick from the man, Elara stepped back only to lose her footing on the uneven terrain and fall to the ground, sending the knife she had left, flying from her grip. The man made for her with his blade so Elara made a quick roll out of the way, dislodging rocks around her. One rock skittered and fell straight in the hole.

His eyes followed the movement and seemed to finally notice the pit, his eyes narrowed and then fell on Elara with vicious anger as he seemed to grasp her plan. He brought his foot up as if to stomp on her and she clenched her fists and held her bent arms in front of her and, grunting, shoved his foot back with the backs of her forearms.

The action temporarily threw him off balance enough for her to scramble to the side, sitting up from where she’d fallen. She made to sweep his legs out from under him to bring him to her level. He barely sidestepped her kick but was knocked a bit closer to the pit with the move. Before she could try again, he dove for her again with her knife. Using her angle to her advantage, she struck him in the wrist from below and he lost his grip on the knife, sending it up and out of reach. It was too far to be of use to either of them now but at least she’d managed to keep him from using it. They were hardly evenly matched as they were but it helped to tilt the scales just a little bit more in her favor.

Barely deterred by the loss of the dagger, her then brought his arm down on her shoulder. She barely managed to remain sitting but was too distracted by the pain to search the tides for his next move. He continued his lunge with both his hands extended. Before she could block, his hands were around her neck. Her hands scrambled at his, but could find no purchase against his gloves.

“Where is he?” the man finally spoke, grunting as he held her.

Some distant part of her brain commented on the stupidity of starting an interrogation while choking her, but the majority of her was focused more on staying alive.

She made no effort to answer him. Even if she did have full use of her respiratory system, she wouldn’t breathe a word about where Orm was to this brute.

His grip was of steel as she choked and gasped against his grip. She then made to claw at his face, but he was too tall and his arms too long for her to reach his eyes. Finally, her vision beginning to swim, she brought her knee up as hard as she could against his groin.

Finally, he faltered, wincing. It was enough for her use her other leg to kick one of his legs loose, knocking him to the ground beside her. Elara barely had time to catch her breath as the attacker fell. Winded and aching as she was, Elara held no illusion that she could knock him into the cave at this point, she just had to get away from him.

She turned over, crawling blindly forward before trying to stand. The man recovered quickly however and grabbed hold of her ankle, dragging her back down.

She tried to kick back behind her but he avoided it quickly enough and was soon upon her, shoving her onto her back roughly. And then he was on top of her, one arm crossed across her shoulders to keep her down and his knees restraining her legs, lest she try kicking again.

Her hands scrambled at his arm as he brought his free hand down on her injured side. She yelled in pain.

“Where is he?” The man repeated.

She responded by trying to punch him before he moved to hold both her hands down.

“Where is Aquaman?” he shouted, clearly frustrated.

That made Elara pause in confusion, croaking out, “Wait, what?”

The attacker never got a chance to elaborate as he was suddenly thrown off of her. And there was Orm, punching him squarely in the face.The man made to sucker punch Orm in the gut but Orm dodged it with ease. Elara’s sense of the tides was lessened by her weakened state but she could have sworn she detected a storm of rage radiating off of Orm.

Through a combination of fatigue from his bout with Elara and Orm’s strength of battle prowess, the attacker’s reactions were more sluggish, barely blocking or landing any hits against Orm.  He leaned back, looking like he was winding up for a strike but Orm beat him to the literal punch, landing a hit right in the man’s face.

Blood blossomed from the man’s nose and before he could recover, Orm hit him hard in the stomach, effectively winding him before landing another face punch. Elara could see the exact moment consciousness left the man, a second before he swayed and fell to the ground, unconscious.

Careful of her injuries, she sat up and just stared at Orm, some emotion she couldn’t name filling her. He turned slowly to look down at her, holding out a hand to help her up.

Taking his hand, she couldn’t stop her voice from cracking, both from feeling and pain as she said, “You came.”

He pulled her up swiftly and surely, the motion only straining her side slightly. Once standing, she didn’t think, she just stepped forward and hugged Orm. He tensed immediately in surprise but, as her arms wrapped around him, she could feel it as he relaxed into her before, hesitantly, he brought his arms up to return the embrace.

She wanted to ask if he’d heard her through the tides, wanted to say how scared she’d been, but instead she just whispered against his shoulder, “Thank you”

He tightened his hold on her just slightly as he said, “You’re welcome.”

Author’s Note: So sorry this one took so long. I’m so bad at writing fight scenes so it was a struggle. Logistics are hard y’all. Anyway, many thanks and hugs if you’ve made it this far on this journey. Comments are love!

oooohhh ! do you see guinevere marrying mordred during the time when arthur gets overthrown ?

not generally?? i could see it being plotted that she does, but in my general verses she flees to the tower with men to defend her. i think she has some issues around love, and i will get to those (eventually) but i do think she truly loved both arthur and lancelot. (what form of love that takes/what that looks like/etc is certainly up for both debate and plotting, but it’s always - - in my mind - - love nonetheless). but i don’t think she would willingly marry mordred (particularly if we’re running on the mordred-is-arthur’s-son-with-morgause legend) if both lancelot and arthur were still alive. the only way i can genuinely see her agreeing to marry him is if the threat of arthur killing her as revenge/justice/etc is great enough that she sees marrying mordred as her only hope of living. (which….is something that comes up in some of the legends, so the possibility is certainly there and plottable.) there are defiitely ways i could see it happening, and it’s not a 1000% no from me as a situation, but i won’t generally defer to it. 

in general,, i tend to prefer guinevere just kind of “lol no”ing the whole thing and running off to the tower with men (likely some of the knights who came with her) to protect her. unless otherwise plotted, that’s usually what i’ll go with. 

Harry Potter and his "Parental Figures"

While I was re-reading Harry Potter, I decided to do a compare and contrast of the effects of the Myers Briggs type of Harry’s “parental figures” and how they relate to him as an iSFP.

Uncle Vernon, ESTJ

Now, Uncle Vernon is an unhealthy ESTJ, so this isn’t a commentary against this specific type. Both Harry and Vernon share Fi and Te, but since Harry is a Fi- dom and Vernon is a Te-dom, they clash often. Vernon is huge on Te type punishments, such as taking away creature comforts and ignoring Harry, pretending he doesn’t exist most of the time. But these punishments generally backfire, because Harry leads with Fi, so he won’t back down and submit to his Uncle’s will, especially when Vernon is trashing his parents. Harry’s inferior Te usually lashes out verbally against his uncle and his unfair punishments, usually making things worse. Harry usually can stomach Uncle Vernon’s punishments knowing he can go to Hogwarts, except when Vernon locks him away and isolates him from his friends over the summer. Harry’s auxiliary Se makes him crave interactions with the physical world and being stuck inside without any way to blow off steam usually causes Harry to loop and makes him depressed.

As an SJ type, Vernon relies on past precedent to guide his present behavior, and since he loathed James and Lily, he transfers that hatred to Harry after they died, getting very set in his belief that all wizards are crackpots. He very much wants everything to be traditional and normal and literally tries to squash the SP out of Harry.

Aunt Petunia, ISFJ

Again, Aunt Petunia is an unhealthy ISFJ, so this is not a criticism of this particular type. As an FJ, Petunia is less forceful and direct in her abuse to Harry compared to Vernon. She too wants to rid Harry of non-traditional nonsense and her aux Fe makes her care a great deal about what others, such as friends and neighbors would think if they knew Harry was a wizard. She also doesn’t want to rock the boat, so she never steps in when Vernon’s Te punishments are getting out of control (think of how she let him drive them all to the shanty by the sea in the first books to avoid the letters.)

As an Fe user, her abuse is typically more emotionally focused. She showers Dudley with affection, love, and praise, knowing full well that it crushes Harry to watch her be maternal towards his cousin while he gets completely ignored. As a Fi dom, Harry is very loyal and caring to those in his circle, so by neglecting Harry’s emotional needs, Petunia is helping Vernon punish Harry right where it really hurts. 

Her unhealthy use of Si makes her cling to the hurt of not being chosen for Hogwarts like her sister, and just like Vernon, she transfers these feelings of anger and resentment onto Harry. 

Results of this Abuse on Harry as an ISFP

Abuse at the hands of his primary caregivers makes Harry very astute at recognizing abuse, no matter how subtle, everywhere. Harry isn’t overly sensitive, just a ISFP who has been abused.

His Fi makes him aware of the emotional vibe, while his Aux Se makes him highly observant. Just as he is an amazing Seeker because he can zero in on the smallest detail in the physical environment. The Fi-Ni loops he frequently experience is the thought process that HP uses to solve complex problems that lead to his eventual take down of Voldemort (with the help of an amazing team of course). His Ni helps him generate theories on why people act the way the do and unlike Ne, help him come to a singular conclusion on what their motives might be. The Ni being in the third spot makes it a little dogmatic at times (It’s Snape! It’s Malfoy!) but is not necessarily totally wrong, as Snape was a “double agent” and Malfoy does become a Death Eater. 

Molly Weasley, ESFJ

Molly’s expressive and affectionate brand of love is welcomed by Harry . She fusses over him, feeds him till he could pop, and knits him sweaters. He’s never had maternal love like this and sometimes scoffs at Ron’s complaints of her being a smother. 

Using Fe and Si make her very good at maintaining group harmony, making sure everyone in her family, biological or not, is well taken care of. Her Si makes her attune to small details about all those in her family and helps her serve their individual needs. Molly isn’t so focused on what others think, like Harry’s Si using family, although she is interested in her children following traditional career paths, which is why her and the Twins clash so frequently.

For the most part, Harry loves how Molly looks after him, but he does grow quite frustrated in The Order of the Phoenix because her Fe-Ne loops make her meddle, catastrophize, and decide what information is appropriate for Harry to know about the political climate of the wizarding world. As a kid who has never really got to be a kid, this infuriates Harry and makes him feel left out, which as somebody who has been isolated most his life, is very triggering. This is partially what causes his long Fi-Ni loops in book five. Overall tho, Molly is a great maternal figure to Harry and is just what he needs to counteract the unhealthy Durselys. 

Arthur Weasley, INTP

As an INTP, Arthur values one’s need to think for himself and the need to seek out information. As an independent ISFP, Harry respects Arthur’s trust in his ability to reason for himself and handle difficult news. He doesn’t coddle him the way Molly does and lets Harry know about Sirius so that he could be better prepared to act if he were to meet him. 

Harry enjoys how curious Mr. Weasely is and how he is more focused on how the car flew, rather than being mad that they flew it in the first place. His inferior Fe makes him defer to Molly’s dominant Fe most of the time. It’s a nice change for Harry to spend time in a family where there is not a lot of yelling or punishing going on.

(Post by INFJ, not ISTP)

So what's been on your KALOTS mind lately? ^.^

My current KA:LOTS mood is exploring the good female representation that the film offered.

Much has been said about all the female characters that died, which while fair is reductive. A lot of characters died. If we’re going to count NAMED characters then women die at pretty much the same rate as men in this film, it’s just there are fewer prominent female characters thus it felt like more.

SO let’s have a quick talk about some of the all awesome women we DID get

I’ve waxed lyrical about the mage a few times, I’ve probably got my original thoughts queued here somewhere. She never smiles throughout the entire film, she is short tempered and commanding but is never vilified for it or questioned on it by any character. She is absolutely respected in her capacity as a mage without ever having to be ‘nice’. But here’s the kicker she’s not mean either, or catty or cruel, she’s just blunt, and the narrative allows her to be that without ever needing to explain it with a tragic backstory beyond the wider canon.

I enjoy the writing of the mage very much because she was not written to be likeable or nurturing but she still manages to be under her own agency because she’s working for a larger cause not because she has any overwhelming amount of natural warmth. In fact of all the characters most concerned with Arthur’s personal wellbeing, that falls to the men in the crew. Once again this is never undermined or overcompensated for in the narrative they are simply allowed to care very much for their friend and leader.

Moving on to the underappreciated Maggie (or Morgause???😱😱😱) who is the juxtaposition to the mage in so many ways. She is *required* to smile, to be demure, feminine and to defer to the men in her company. But once again her ability to continue to occupy the precarious space she’s in, is a strength not a weakness, she’s never used as a foil to make our more ‘bada**’ character look good. In fact she’s given her own strength when we find out that of all of them there she is the one who faces the most danger, constantly every day of her life and being who she is takes a huge amount of courage.

Both she and the mage occupy a space within this resistance, this uprising that don’t require them to inhabit traditionally masculine roles for their contributions to have meaning and impact. There is the temptation to require every ‘strong female character’ to wield a sword or know martial arts; which has its place. But can often be tiring and reductive because it diminishes the contributions of women who don’t wield weapons but are no less important for tit. King Arthur LOTS shows us what writing in those characters looks and feels like. Neither Maggie nor the mage are combatants yet they are fighters, fighting in the capacity they have and they are no less courageous or valuable for it.

Also please let us appreciate the fact that Maggie never at any point tries to seduce Vortigern. And considering the story it would have been the easiest thing in the world and actually justifiable. She’s a pretty spy who obviously spends a fair amount of time in his company, he’s a lonely black widower lol who gets off on power and control, but she doesn’t, she’s never required to and no hint of her being any less effective at her job for it. (special mention to Maggie’s speech to Vortigern at the end is just fantastic, she sees no reason to plead for her life so she tells Vortigern some hard truths)

Which brings me neatly to my next point. The non-s*xualised brothel. The women live there, work there, we SEE them living there and working there yet there are no T&A shots, no male gaze , no pity, no ‘saving them from iniquity’. The film respects what they do and even when Arthur ‘saves’ them it’s clear that he’s just repaying them in kind. In fact we never see anyone of the women beaten or assaulted for shock value (that’s saved for beardy Vikings). I’m not sure that I’ve ever seen such a respectful treatment of s*x work and s*x workers. In a film that didn’t’ need to, it wasn’t trying to make a point, it just was.

One last note on the lack of female combatants. In the world that’s been established we can see that women are not traditionally soldiers, knights etc. in these worlds a pet peeve of mine has always been only treating with value the women that break this mould; implying that the women that the contributions of all the women behind the scenes are lesser in comparison. This is a very masculine centric framework. Despite being criticised for it, I like the fact that the this film said, no women don’t fight here, it’s unlikely that they would have the resources to learn and it’d be unfair to expect them to have to because what they do, in their own capacity is every bit as important as the next guy with a sword and there is no need for any caveats on that. I would love to see female knights introduced in more instalments but I like the fact that when they arrive they will be joining an existing pantheon not creating a new one.

Yiikees this turned out longer than expected and tbh not sure how much sense it made since it’s a bit of word vomit but tell me what you think.

Thanks for this ask, I really enjoy talking about this film, but never find the time so asks are good motivation.

Also everyone please feel free to send me more. It gives me an excuse to wax lyrical about our magical ladies and yes even our deceased ones :D. (or indeed nay other theme you’d like me to put my 2 cents into, OR just to say hi 😊)

– UQ mod

Glee Trek

Space - the Final Frontier. These are the Adventures of the Gleeship New Directions. Its mission: to explore new music, to seek out new choreographies and mash-ups. To boldly sing what no one has sung before.

Episode 2: Where no Choir has Sung Before

Captain's Log, Stardate 1312.4. : Finding new crew members with the talents we need has been more difficult than anticipated. It seems the ancient, honorable tradition of Gleeships is, indeed, dying out, and few Starfleet personnel are willing to put their careers into a seeming dead end. I have been forced to use rather unusual methods to find those willing to join us, but I have been successful. Over the next few days, we will welcome four new crew members.

Unusual methods, indeed. Will dared not put these methods into an official log, nor even confide them to a personal one. But Finn Hudson had just been too good to pass up: very good singing voice, though his dancing left much to be desired, but with the education and experience to make him a good first officer. Of course, he had declined, being in the line for his own ship, until Will had acquired, hidden, and then 'found' a forbidden Kitarian game in the young officer's quarters. After that, he had signed up fairly quickly.

Two others had agreed without further....enticement. It had surprised Will at first, but they had seemed rather enthusiastic, and he was sure they would be fine members of his crew.

As for the fourth...well. April Rhodes had been in his year at Starfleet Academy. She hadn't had much going for her except her exceptional singing voice, and she had simply lacked the discipline to make it in Starfleet. One day, she had simply disappeared, and when Will checked her records, he saw that she had never graduated, nor officially quit. Nominally, she was still a member of Starfleet. It had not taken long to find her: at a Dabo table, a glass of something that was definitely no synthehol in her hand, gambling for her dinner. She had accepted his invitation gratefully, and he fully intended to make her a success after all.

April and one of the others would join them today, whereas they would pick up Mr. Hudson and their new counselor in a few days.

“Remind me of who he is again,” he said to Mr. Hummel, who was walking next to him, courteously matching his steps to those of his captain.

“Ensign Blaine Anderson, sir,” the android said. “Engineering. Youngest graduate of Starfleet Academy and lead singer of the Starfleet Academy Warblers.”

Will nodded, determined to make good use of his new crew members' abilities. He put on a welcoming smile as the two people beamed on board.

“Welcome to the Gleeship New Directions. I am Captain William Schuester.”

“Will,” April said, coming towards him with a big smile. She stumbled as she stepped off the platform and pressed against him when he caught her. She also smelled of drink, but if he remembered her voice correctly, it would be worth it. There would be no more drinking for her; there was only synthehol available on the ship. He had decreed it after some crew members had barfed on stage during a performance of a song by Ferengi singer Ke-Latinum-Ha.

The other arrival, a young man in a brand new Starfleet uniform, kept standing on the platform, staring mesmerized at...Lieutenant Commander Hummel?

“Ensign...?” Will asked.

“Oh! Excuse me,” Ensign Anderson said with a charming smile. “It's just...you are the Android, aren't you?” He hurried from the platform to stand before Mr. Hummel, practically bouncing with excitement.

“That is correct,” Mr. Hummel said.

“I majored in Cybernetics,” the ensign said. “You were the subject of quite a few of my studies. It's because of you I wanted this position. I'm looking forward to working with you.”

“I heard you were the lead singer of the Starfleet Academy Warblers. We can use your talents.”

“I'm happy to be here!” Mr. Anderson said with an enthusiasm he seemed to dedicate to everything he did. He stared again at Mr. Hummel. “Is it true that you can reach notes humans can't even hear?”

“I am able to reach any existing note,” Mr Hummel replied. “Although I usually limit myself to a more usual human range in order to -”

“Later, Hummel!” the captain interrupted. “You will have sufficient opportunity to talk to the ensign at another time.” Then he smiled. He had a good feeling about this.

Unfortunately, it didn't last long.

An hour or so later, after having shown the new arrivals to their quarters and invited them to an informal welcome gathering in Ten Forward at nineteen hundred hours, Will was in his ready room, engaged in a particularly frustrating communication with Starfleet Admiral Figgins.

“No, William, you can't go over Warp 5 to get a tactical advantage over the Klingons,” the admiral said, his face on the screen showing a very unpleasant expression of determination.

“But, admiral-” the captain argued. It was an environmental issue, sure, but surely his reasons were valid.

“No! Starfleet regulations forbid going over Warp 5 except in cases of emergency, and winning Quadrantals is not an emergency.”

“It is, especially if that condition still stands,” the captain said sullenly. “You can't pressure us -”

“I can, William, and indeed I must. Starfleet means are tight, and every ship is needed. If you don't place at Quadrantals, the New SS Directions will be used for purposes other than Glee, and you will probably be replaced as captain.”

“But we can be the best Gleeship in the galaxy, I know we can!“

“Then prove it. My hands are tied, William. There's nothing I can do for you.”

Will leaned back tiredly and sighed. It would be hard to win without any tactical advantage, especially if Vulcan Adrenaline and the Klingons would win their respective Sectorials, which he did not doubt. The admiral's conditions hardly seemed of import against the erasure of all music, with which the Sue had threatened them, but it still added another layer of pressure on his crew and himself.

Lieutenant Arthur Abrams, called Artie by most, looked up form his tinkering with a puzzled smile when he heard the door open. Nobody ever came here; but then he remembered there was to be a new crew member in engineering.

Not one, but two people entered, and engineering suddenly seemed pretty crowded.

“Lieutenant,” one of them said, “I'm Blaine Anderson. I am to work with you here, and I thought it best to acquaint myself with the premises, if it's alright with you.”

“And I'm April,” the woman said. “I'm not sure where I'll end up, so I thought I'd look around a little.”

“Well, I can surely use some help,” Artie said and fought to hide a grin. These two came at exactly the right time.

He led them into an adjacent cargo hold that, at the moment, looked more like a junkyard.

“These are old photon torpedoes,” he explained. “They have to be cleaned of silicium before we can dispose of them. The computer will do all the work, but you have to stand by and check nothing is overlooked.”

It was a rookie's job, boring and unchallenging but necessary, and leaving it to them would give him the time for a few much-needed repairs.

Looking into the rather unenthusiastic faces of his new colleagues, he pressed his comm badge. “Abrams to captain: I'd like to go under Warp for a while until while I do some maintenance, sir. We'll need about two hours.”

April grinned. “Two hours, eh? How long will it really take?”

“Two hours, give or take a few minutes,” Artie said, confused.

“What? You never tell your boss the time you'll really need. Always add at least an hour, better more. You have more time if you make mistakes, and if you don't and you make it in less, you look like a genius.” April was shaking her head.

It wasn't bad advice, Artie thought. There had been times when he'd had to ask for more time to complete a task, to the displeasure of his superiors. With April's trick, that wouldn't happen again.

“Well,” Blaine said, scratching his head while he watched the green numbers flicker over the computer screen. “There is probably no need for both of us to be here. You could go and visit another department, if you'd like.”

But April shook her head. “I have a better idea. If we beam all that stuff right into the warp core, it will burn without residue. We will be spared all that tedious work, and we'll have diposed of the torpedoes as well, which is what they want anyway.”

Blaine stared at her with an open mouth. For her, a mere cadet, to go so clearly around the orders of a superior officer, was....he had never seen like it. Even the boldest students at the academy had not been that brazen. He couldn't help but admire her a little bit.

“We've been given our orders,” he protested. “It's our first day. We shouldn't....”

“Oh, but you haven't been personally commended by Dean Tibideaux just because you follow orders so well, have you, Anderson? What about showing initiative, thinking outside the box?”

“But you can't be sure that everything will burn without residue. Besides, won't it disrupt the warp core? My calculations clearly show -”

“I have been beaming things into the warp core when you were still pooping your diapers, boy. I know what I'm doing.”

Blaine didn't know what to do. He outranked her, so she should do what he said - but it was true, she was more experienced, so shouldn't he defer to her?

As he was still thinking, April suddenly got to work without further consulting him. She started beaming the photon torpedoes into the warp core, and after staring at her for some more, he shrugged and helped.

Although the cargo hold started to look considerably less cluttered in a very short time, Blaine was sure they had done something wrong when strange noises started to come from the warp core. April seemed unconcerned; in fact, she had now started to pick up random tools, look at them for a while and then either put them down again or beamed them into the warp core as well.

“What are you doing?” he asked. “These are tools, not junk, you can't just -”

She signaled for him to be quiet, her face drawn in concentration and, Blaine thought, exhaustion.

He left her sitting there and went back into engineering, determined on finding out where the strange noises the warp core made were coming from. At first, everything looked normal, but then

the pulse frequency of the warp core started to accelerate until itwas so high that the warp core seemed to be a single glowing pillar.

Lieutenant Abrams glared at him from behind a computer screen and shouted,

“What have you done? It was a simple command I gave you! You should have done nothing that resulted in this!”

Suddenly the ship stopped abruptly and the lights in engineering went out. Only the regular flashes of the red alerd shed a little light.

In nearly complete darkness, Blaine and Lieutenant Abrams stared at the warp core and tried to decide what had gone wrong. Then, the captain's voice sounded from the comm system:

“All senior personnel to the bridge!”

“Where are we?” frantic voices asked, and,

“Position undetermined,” Mr. Hummel answered.

“We could be anywhere!” the captain said.

“Anywhere at all!” Mr. Puck shouted.

“I surmise we are at the edge of the universe,” Mr. Hummel stated matter-of-factly. “Where none have gone before.”

“Where no choir has sung before!” Lieutenant Berry excitedly said. “The acoustics could be something completely new, we should test them at once!”

“Anderson to bridge,” came a voice from the comm system, “something seems wrong with Cadet -”

“Not now, Ensign!” the captain interrupted, his attention on the ruckus on the bridge and the fact that his ship was wherever, light years away from home.

“To the conference room,” he ordered his senior officers. “We have to determine what happened here and what to do about it,”

Once seated along the large table, the senior officers seemed to remember that they were exactly that, and behaved much more orderly. Still, the captain sighed. He really needed a first officer to remind everyone of their duties.

“Suggestions,” he said.

“Could it have to do with the Sue?” Lieutenant Berry asked.

William groaned at the thought. “We can't rule her out completely. If it's her, though -”

”I don't think it was her,” Lieutenant Abrams interrupted. “I think it happened in engineering. I had left Ensign Anderson and Cadet Rhodes with the task to supervise the cleaning of the photon torpedoes, and then suddenly the warp core was going crazy.”

The new ensign Blaine Anderson looked slightly desperate as he contemplated the warp core that was still making weird noises and the unconscious April in his arms. She had fainted shortly after Lieutenant Abrams has disappeared to the bridge, when whatever had happened had happened.

“Anderson to sickbay,” he tried, touching his comm badge.

“Here Dr. Pillsbury,” a friendly voice answered, and he smiled relieved.

“The new cadet has fainted. Her vitals are stable, but she is awfully pale and her pulse is fast.”

“I'll be there at once.”

While the petite, red-headed Dr. Pillsbury tended to April, Blaine tried to figure out what had gone wrong. He knew by now that they had moved, that the ship had gone many light years from their original position without anyone intending it to be so. Except, maybe...he remembered April suggesting they beam things into the warp core, and beaming even more into it then was necessary to clean up. She had looked strangely focused and determined, and then tired and pale as if the beaming had cost her...Could it be she had been sabotaging them? But why? And what could he do to bring them back?

“Maybe we could reverse the polarity,” he muttered. “That often seems to work...or maybe...”

He needed Lieutenant Abrams for that. Hesitantly, he touched his comm badge again, hoping for someone to listen to him.

Before he could speak, however, a stern voice sounded through the comm. “Anderson and Rhodes to the conference room!”

“On my way, sir,” he answered and went to tell Dr Pillsbury he was leaving. She nodded distractedly while still tending April.

In the conference room, he indulged in a moment of awe that he was here on this ship. He would never have dreamed of seeing this room so soon, though. It was used for meetings with high-ranking diplomats and important discussion among the senior officers. For him to be here....could only mean one thing, he realized as he noticed the faces of his superiors looking at him with less than friendly expressions.

“Where is Cadet Rhodes?” the captain asked, and Blaine answered, “In sickbay, sir. She fell ill after....after-”

“After what?”

Blaine stood to attention as he remorsefully reported what had happened in engineering. When he was finished, he added,

“But I think I've figured out what -”

“I think you've done quite enough for today, Ensign. Go back to your work - your real work.”

Blaine was torn. He wanted to follow orders, he really did, but he knew he could make this right. So he lingered for a moment longer and tried to catch Lietutenant Abrams' eye, signalizing he needed to speak to him as soon as possible. Then he went back to enigneering, where he couldn't do his work because there were no photon torpedoes left to be cleaned.

So he waited. Fortunately, it was not overly long until Lieutenant Abrams appeared, still obviously upset. But Blaine wasted no time with apologies. The only way he could make up for his lapse of judgment was to make things right again.

“I think we need to figure out what we beamed into the warp core, then turn the ship and beam exactly the same things into it again,” he said without preamble, watching Abrams shift from anger to contemplation as he thought over the suggestion.

At long last, the senior officer nodded. “You might be right...and if not, you can hardly take us further from home than we are now - or make things worse for you, I might add. I'll give order to turn the ship, you try to remember what you put in there. I think we can discount the dust and scrap pieces, at least—or I hope so, anyway.”

But there was someone else they needed for this to work, at least if Blaine was right in his assumption. So he visited sickbay.

April was lying on a bed, fortunately alone. She looked much better.

“You played a role in taking us wherever we are now, didn't you,” Blaine accused gently. “I don't know how, or why, but you did.”

Slowly, she nodded. “I like to travel. I wanted to be very very far away, so I could really make a new beginning, you know?”

“Well, you certainly succeeded in getting us very, very far away. We're at the edge of the universe.”

“Oops,” April giggled. “I didn't mean to go quite that far. No wonder I fainted! I've never gone so far before!”

She sat up. “This is so exciting! We're were no one has ever been! There will be so much to discover!” She looked at Blaine. “You don't look excited.”

He shook his head. “I'm not. No one is. We have obligations -”

“Pish,” she scoffed. “Life isn't just obligations. Go have an adventure!”

“A lot of us also have families that don't live on the ship. From where we are now, it could be many years until we see them again.”

April's face fell. “Oh. I didn't consider that. That's awful! I never meant to do that!”

“Is there a way to bring us back?”

“I don't know...”

“Well, how did you do it in the first place?”

“I can do things with my thoughts. When I concentrate hard enough on something, I can make it happen. Kudos for figuring it out, by the way. People like you make traveling so exciting.”

“Can you do the same thing again, but in reverse?” He looked at her still-pale face. “I mean, without dying?”

“There was an interphasic compensator, I'm sure. It was broken somehow, but I don't remember where. Let's hope it's okay as it is,” Lieutenant Abrams said, looking with regret at another tool that would soon be gone.

“A flux coupler,” Ensign Anderson said. “and a dualitic inverter...probably.”

“Let's add a few scraps of metal for good measure—there. That should do it, hopefully.”

The two man looked at each other and nodded, waited until April nodded back at them, and then beamed the small heap of things into the warp core. For a second, nothing happened, but then the warp core started to make the weird sounds again and the ship lurched. Blaine dared a tentative smile.

“Abrams to bridge—where are we?”

“Not quite back home, but in familiar coordinates again. Well done, Lieutenant.”

Their little celebration in Ten Forward looked different than expected. It was a welcome for Blaine Anderson, but a farewell for April Rhodes, who, it had been decided, would not be a good fit with the crew after all. She was quite glad to be gone, as well, since her brief experience with shipboard life and its rules and regulations had not suited her. At their performance of Home, however, she sang lead, and everyone agreed she would visit.

“In spite of his mistake, Ensign Anderson has already proven to be a valuable member of our crew,” the captain announced at the end of the little party while Ensign Anderson blushed. “For bringing us home, I promote him to Junior Lieutenant. I'm sure his talent as a performer will be equally great. For now, though, it is time to get us to Draygo IV, where our new first officer awaits us. Engage.”

37 for Isabelle?

Everything’s happened too quickly. 

Isabelle was supposed to have days, between marrying the English King and needing to go back to his home with him- where have they gone? The Wedding is still at the forefront of her mind - it was terrifying, and exhilarating, and the excitement of it is still there, but it’s fading rapidly to anxiety as she realises that now it’s over, and so is the time allotted for farewells and a whirlwind of packing…

She’s going to leave France, she realises with a jolt, and it doesn’t seem real. England doesn’t seem like it could be a real place, not really, though she knows it as and-

She agreed to this, she reminds herself crossly. More than that- she

wanted

this: she wants to be a great lady, like maman and aunt Valentine, and she

wants

to see outside of France, so that she can fill in the blank spaces where it seems like nothing exists. And the King- her husband- he’s like she’d hoped he would be, or at least seems it: he’s kind and gentle,

  and

he’s handsome whatever Kate says about his long hair being girly-

Isabelle

thinks it looks romantic, a silky auburn waterfall curling around his shoulders like one of the illuminated knights in her Great Uncle Berry’s stories of King Arthur, which he let her look at once though she wasn’t allowed to actually

read

it- 

But there’s something about him that does jar with all her daydreams and it’s worrying her: now that she’s about to leave her home with this man, she can’t ignore it. She’s been picturing her wedding to some important nobleman in various ways since she was a very little girl, but however she imagined it- be it to a King or Duke or…she always sort of assumed he’d be, well,

happy.

Not in love with her necessarily, she’s always known that love is often the kind of thing that only happens after a wedding, but they exchanged their vows and King Richard’s eyes were sad. His hands shook as he took hers- she was so nervous herself that she didn’t really register it all at the time but the more she thinks about it…

She leaves first thing tomorrow morning; she’s running out of time to seek reassurance. In a moment of decisiveness, she swings out of bed, jams her feet in to her slippers, snatches a shawl to wrap around her shoulders, and slips from the room, leaving Kate snoring behind her. She intends to go and ask the King- maybe she’s done something wrong, in which case she needs to fix it, or maybe there’s something else the matter in which case, she’s his wife now and shouldn’t that mean she has a duty to try and fix it? She wants him to be happy. Something tells her he has a beautiful smile, and she can’t wait to see it. She reaches his door and pushes it open a little- then freezes as she hears voices inside. “…do this to yourself…”That’s the King’s cousin, she thinks- the nice one with dark hair and good French who she met first, not the other, scary one with French that’s passable but horribly accented. Heart pounding wildly in her chest, she looks through the crack in the door. She blushes furiously as she realises that both men are naked, or as near to naked as she’s ever seen a man anyway: King Richard has only his shirt, and his cousin- Rutland, she remembers suddenly-only his underpants…they’re lying on the bed, on top of the covers, the King closest too her though his face is turned away from the door: he’s looking at Rutland, who’s propped up on one elbow, other hand laced with the King’s.“I can’t help it,” the King says. “I’ve tried- God knows I’ve tried- that I’m trying. Princess Isabelle is…she’s a lovely girl, she’ll make a good queen, in time-I like her. I like her, very much. But Ned, she’s not Anne. She’s not Anne.”

Isabelle wanted to pull away, to run back to bed and forget this had ever happened, but she couldn’t move. Of course, how had she not seen this! Richard was a decade older than she was…twenty seven, to her seventeen, and they were only marrying because of politics…of course he would have someone: Isabelle could picture her, Anne, an English Lady- married to someone else, perhaps, or not married at all, but not a wife he could take without angering his nobles. As a mistress, though- well perhaps, she thought, panicking, they could be friends. Though the relief she had been feeling that her husband had gently suggested deferring their wedding night until she was a little older, and they knew each other a little better, was quickly turning sour- if he and his mistress were in love- and he sounded very in love, the anguish in his voice was unmistakable- he would probably never want her; she would be set to one side, a spare part, an interloper. 

“Oh, Dearheart.” Isabelle didn’t know what Rutland had just said meant: it must be an English word. But the tone was unmistakable in it’s sympathy, as though Rutland’s heart was breaking as much as his cousin’s, and he pressed a chaste kiss to his King’s mouth-Isabelle jumped as a hand clapped her shoulder, and she spun around to see her Uncle Orleans disapproving frown. “What are you doing?” he hissed, and then, seeing she was on the verge of tears, the frown became concern as he pulled her away from the door and in to an alcove. “Isabelle, what’s wrong?”

“He has a mistress!” Isabelle sobbed. “That’s why he’s been so sad! He doesn’t want to be married to me because he’s in love with her!”

Orleans frowned again, in confusion this time. “…what? But he-” he asked, brows knitting together. “What did you overhear?” he said, a gentle reprimand slipping in to his tone. There was a reason eavesdropping was never a good idea: this was it.

“ I heard them talking! The King and his cousin…The King’s upset because I’m not Anne, her name is Anne-

”Oh dear God, Orleans thought: he had known from the very beginning this was a bad idea- and had Isabeau told her daughter nothing of the man she’d been given to? No hint, no warning? “Isabelle,” he said, “Isabelle, listen to me: King Richard does not have a mistress.”“But they were-”

“They were talking about his wife. His first wife.”Isabelle looked at him with round, confused eyes. 

“…He has been married?” she whispered, hiccupping. “I assumed you knew,” Orleans said softly. “That you’d been told…” he exhaled. “King Richard was married. Her name was Queen Anne, and they loved each other very much, everyone said so.”“What happened?”

“She died,” Orleans said quietly. “Three years ago. I understand that the English courtiers find it better to avoid speaking of her, than to risk reopening the King’s grief, it was…great.” He would not go in to specifics. Isabelle didn’t need to know that in the months after the Queen of England’s death gossip all across Europe said that King Richard had gone mad. He burnt down the palace where she had died, that Orleans knew for fact; there were other rumours, too, that he did not sleep, or that he did not stir from his bed, that he would not eat, that his anguish howls could be heard right across England, that he passed each night on his knees in the chapel begging God to give her back…or else take him too…“Uncle?”

“…You mustn’t worry,” Orleans said finally. “It may be…difficult, at first, for you both. But in time…”Isabelle sniffled, drying her eyes. “What if it doesn’t,” she said. “What if…” she trailed off, gesturing as if to say: all the things that could go wrong, what if they happen? What then?“

Then you come home,” Orleans said firmly. “If you don’t like England- if you’re even the slightest bit unhappy. You come back home.”

“What if there’s a war and they won’t let me?” It hadn’t occurred to her, until this moment, but now it had-

“Then, I come and rescue you,” her uncle said. “The slightest hint of trouble: if you need me, I’ll come get you.”

“You promise?” Isabelle asked, feeling a little better at the prospect of having her uncle’s help, if she ever needed it. She would not be alone, after all…

“I promise,” Orleans said firmly, “You have my word…”

(three years later, Queen Isabelle of England was given the news that France formally recognised Henry Bolingbroke as England’s King and thought:

Liar.)

Wrack and Ruin

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Arthur lounges in a chair at the desk in his room. He is attempting to compose a letter to the Cabinet Office as both Master of the Ordnance and Minister of the Occult. He dislikes how the titles and roles are entangling themselves together. He feels there ought to be a distinct delineation between them. He, thus far, has been shot down.

'What are you wearing to dinner?' Napoleon asks as he sticks his head in. Arthur leans his head back so he is viewing the man upside. 'That is a pretty face you're making but not an answer to my question.'

'I was attempting to get some work done.'

'Still not an answer. Oh, I see your man has lain out your uniform.'

'Yes. How involved do you think this dinner will be?'

'Food and drink wise? Very involved. If you want to eat well, always dine with Joseph. In terms of guests? Intimate. He said he was having only one or two people along.'

Arthur screws the lid back on his ink and sets his pen back in its holder. This letter is clearly not going to be completed in the time between present and dinner.

'Very well,' Arthur sighs. 'I will do work after dinner.'

'Think of this as a holiday.'

'I'm here on behalf of the British-'

'Yes, yes. I know.' Leaning over Napoleon adjusts Arthur's collar and cravat. 'Get dressed or we'll be late.'

//

The dinner party is small consisting of Nicholas Biddle and his wife Jane and a Mr. William Bligh and wife Margaret. Arthur had expected there to be the whispered about Annette Savage, unkindly called Madame de la Folie, but she if she is present in Bordentown at this time she is absent from Point Breeze.

'Never seen it myself,' Nicholas is saying as the fish is brought it. 'Of course I've heard all the stories. You can't help it in these parts. It reminds one of some of the beasts that Homer wrote of - creatures of remote Mediterranean islands.'

Napoleon perks up at the mention on Homer. ‘You enjoy the epics?’ He asks with great enthusiasm. 

‘I enjoy all the classics,’ Nicholas pauses as he searches for a title. Finding it difficult with two Bonapartes present, the Duke of Wellington, and an amiable if bland Mr. Bligh, he settles on nothing. ‘I’ve been revisiting Virgil. The Aeneid.’ 

‘An excellent choice.’ With an ironic smile Napoleon quotes, ‘He was to be ruler of Italy, Potential empire, armorer of war; to father men from Teucer's noble blood. And bring the whole world under law's dominion.’ A theatric sigh. ‘But, was not to be for him.’ 

Nicholas spreads his hands as if saying, Such is life. 

Arthur, ‘I beg your pardon, but to return to the beast. The stories you have heard, they only speak of one, correct? Or are there more?’ 

'I've only heard of one,' Nicholas replies. 'Who knows, though. The natives speak of all sorts of strange creatures in the woods. Perhaps there are more.'

'But this one was born of a human?'

'Correct, though our host knows more of the particulars than I.'

Joseph shrugs, he has said all he knows. There is little knowledge left to impart. Perhaps there are still members of Leeds family around? They are the ones who brought this creature forth not quite one hundred years ago.

Napoleon listens with half an ear as Arthur digs into the legend and mildly wonders what sort of letter the War Office is going to receive. Evidently they are concerned about numbers of these strange creatures. Napoleon thinks that a ridiculous approach to it. Folklore creatures do exist in regards to sheer number, that is not their power. It is over the mind that they reign most completely.

Do not go here, do not go there for the Jersey Devil will get you, the giants of Bonafacio will crush up your bones and make pulenta from them like chestnuts, the fairies will lead you astray and down into the dark earth where thirsty roots dig deep. The power of the unknown, the feared other is where true magic of these things lies. He would know, he was the Ogre. The Scourge of Europe. The Bogeyman.

Jane Biddle is a handsome woman and Napoleon, done with thoughts of the unknown for one evening, turns towards her and makes general inquiries about her life. Who was her father? Her mother? Where was she from? Has she and her husband any children? Only two! He asks for their names. Edward and Charles.

'Charles is a good name,' he says.

'I think so,' Jane agrees.

'You should name your next son William or perhaps Harold. Those are names of fame and fortune.'

'If it is a son, sir!'

'Of course it will be a son, you have two already. That is a good sign.'

She teases, 'and if it were to be a daughter?'

'Josephine.'

Jane smiles, 'that is a beautiful name.'

'Of course. Or Pauline, if you absolutely must.'

Nicholas attends to them as he drifts out of a conversation with William Bligh. He catches Napoleon’s eye as the meat course is brought in. ‘Perhaps not as warm a subject as Virgil and Homer but I would like to speak with you on a manner of some import.’ 

'Nicholas, not work.' Jane says this with the tone of one who knows a hopeless situation when it presents itself.

'For only a minute, my dear. What think you of our current situation?'

'Broadly speaking? The general human condition? Hopeful, I would say. Or more particularly?'

'As you may know, I am the director of the federal Bank.'

'Ah! that sort of import. The current economic state. What is your opinion?’  

'It is trying at best, an absolute horror at worst. We'll muddle through it though, I have no doubt. I want to ask you about the Louisiana Purchase repayment process. It has, as you know, exacerbated the current economic crisis and I have been consulting about the best approach.’

'New government in France,' Napoleon holds his hands up. 'I have nothing to do with it. I raise bees and tend my garden in a small village in England now. I am, how do you say in English, a retired gentleman?'

Jane not-so-discreetly nudges Nicholas' foot beneath the table. He smiles warmly at her and says, 'oh fine, we'll talk later. Aside from our current crisis I want a more complete account of the creation of the French bank.'

'Naturally.'

'Your brother Joseph is of little help.'

'Come tomorrow,' Napoleon says. 'We're going on another quest for this devil. Come with us.'

Nicholas at first defers, he would not wish to infringe if this is a specialized practice. He only prepared Lewis and Clarks' report of their western exploration past the Mississippi, he is not a man of nature.

'We are all urban gentlemen,' Napoleon says.

'But you're also all soldiers.'

'Excuse you,' Joseph says primly from down the table. 'Do not cast that aspersion on all of us.'

Nicholas laughs, oh he is sorry. He would not wish to cast any shadow on their host. 'He's a good man,' he says to Napoleon.

'Oh yes, between the two of us Joseph is the more handsome and the kinder.'

//

Arthur approaches the letter and desk with annoyance once dinner has ended and guests dispersed for the evening with plans to reconvene in the morning. He outlines what he wishes to convey then begins. He decides that he will include an edited copy to interested parties in England such as that botanist Buchanan.

Part way through is the expected knock. Napoleon enters without waiting for an invitation and Arthur twists around to face him, points at him with his pen dripping an errant bit of ink to the floor.

'You should wait until you have been invited, Bonaparte.'

'I knew you'd be scribbling away at your letter. You fairly near abandoned me at the end of the evening.'

'You and your brother were reminiscing about family half in Italian. I was clearly not needed.'

Napoleon leans over him and scans the letter. Arthur remains, despite several years of close acquaintance, unaware of exactly how much English the one-time emperor can read. He partially covers the letter with his hand. Napoleon scoffs, ruffles his hair.

'You just wanted to escape Mr. Bligh. Madame Bligh was charming.'

'Yes I saw you steal away with her into the corner of the room for a time.'

'I did not steal away. We were discussing constellations and so we went to a window to look at them which elucidated the conversation.'

'You're hopeless.'

Napoleon grins and flops back onto the bed. He is still half dressed in evening wear and smells of cigars from the other gentlemen.

'Bligh wished to speak to me of the great innovations being made in ship building in Boston,' Arthur says when Napoleon offers no other lead. 'He was being loud.'

'He was rather loud.'

'And brash.'

'His French wasn't good, I didn't get that far.'

'And dull.'

'The worst offence!' Napoleon juts his hand up pointing to the ceiling. 'Off with his head!'

'He was being an American.'

Napoleon props himself up on his shoulders and raises an eyebrow towards Arthur. Arthur does not appreciate the scrutiny and turns back to his letter muttering that some people have work that needs to be completed.

'You tolerated the few socialites we met in Boston.'

Arthur glares over his shoulder, 'they weren't dull. They were charming, educated women with peculiar accents. I am immune to peculiar accents. You have a peculiar accent and I abide it well enough.'

Napoleon flops back down and says that if Arthur is going to be misish he can do it alone. Arthur says he wishes he could be alone. If other people would only let him. Napoleon, 'you don't mean that.' The tone is teasing silk. Without seeing him Arthur knows he is smiling and it is devilish.

Arthur writes on for a time before he hears Napoleon standing and moving about the room. As the door opens Arthur says, 'what your brother wants you to say.'

From across the room Napoleon's voice is low and soft, 'yes?'

'Have you figured it out?'

'Oh yes.'

'Probably for the best.'

'I disagree.'

Arthur shrugs. He continues writing. The door closes with something like an admission.  

Hello Squid! Not sure if it has been asked before - how and when did you start shipping Arthur and Sadie ? What was the lightbulb moment(s)?

Oooh, good one.  It crept up on me, to be honest.  There was no singular “YES OTP” that I remember.  But as y’all know I very firmly support them only as a post-game ship and ship the hell out of their in-game friendship as the heart and soul of that, it makes sense that much like any romance between them, it was gradual.I loved the dynamic in “Further Questions of Female Suffrage”, because it was so unusual.  By that point we’ve seen Arthur as the shy, deferential gentlemanly dork towards most women.  We’ve seen him be the fond big brother to Karen, Mary-Beth, Abigail, and Tilly.  We’ve seen him get a little exasperated with Mary, but mostly just act like a sad puppy hopeless to do anything but help someone he loves.  We haven’t really seen him interact with a woman on equal footing, and that’s what happens with Sadie.  Yes, he plays the big, tough, annoyed enforcer “Oh, you wanna run with the meeeeen?” role in camp, much like he does to other gang riders to keep the peace and keep them in their assigned role.But he drops that act just about as soon as they cross the camp’s borders and hit the road to Rhodes.  Though he doesn’t take up his usual deference towards a woman, and while there are a few flickers of Arthur As Senior Gun and Teacher there (sharply telling Sadie that they don’t engage in indiscriminate robbery and violence, instructing her to play it cool, etc.), he’s also a lot looser than we see with the likes of Sean and even Lenny with keeping them on a tight rein a junior members in need of oversight and advice.  Once she starts reading Pearson’s letter, he’s laughing with Sadie and cracking jokes and clearly having fun with her on a peer level in a way we really don’t see him let go and do with anyone else.  Right up until the end of the mission, they’re joking easily with each other.  It’s a great foundation of a friendship for them.He writes about Sadie repeatedly in his journal in fairly open admiration, and sketches her.  That’s extremely unusual.  He sketches Mary and writes about her, but with mingled love and anger.  He sketches Abigail and writes about her with some admiration, but again, that to me is so hopelessly tangled up with her role as a single mother and his Eliza/Isaac trauma that it’s hard to unpick the two.  And unlike Abigail, or his gushing praise of Charles, he also notes some of Sadie’s flaws too: her anger which can be indiscriminate, her reckless ferocity.  He has a realistic view of her, just like she does of him.And that to me is really why they work.  I saw a post a week or so ago with OP having the opinion that a relationship they were writing about (Charlotte x Arthur, I think, but I could be wrong?  Might have been an OC? Anyway, I don’t disagree with the ship per se, I disagree with this particular take on it) works only because she didn’t know Arthur before.  Because she’d be appalled by him and unable to bear knowing him back then.I have to argue the contrary there.  I feel like you can’t put Arthur in a successful relationship with someone who’s seen only a carefully curated “best” version of him, who couldn’t bear to know who he was and accept that.  He’s never going to be able to address his deep self-loathing if he’s living a lie in constant terror of being found out and rejected.Arthur is a long-term survivor of a cult leader, taken in and warped by it for over two decades, from the time he was a child.  He was a mindless minion.  He’s been a killer, a thief, a man who fathered a child he failed deeply.  He’s made plenty of terrible choices he regrets.  You can’t just ignore who he was for 22 years.  It informs the choices he’s made since, the road he took to the man he’s becoming in Chapter 6, and who he’d become post-Chapter 6 if he survives.  And any romantic partner who can’t accept the worst of him along with the best can’t really accept Arthur, IMO.With Sadie, he doesn’t have to do so.  She’s been there.  He’s been there.  They’ve seen each other’s worst: the anger, the violence, the killing, the loss of self and hurting people mindlessly.  It really says something that at their lowest, they both are there for each other, even as they’re arguing strongly and standing up to each other at some points.  They’re striving to protect people, to save lives.  Sadie tells him he’s the only one she truly trusts.  Arthur returns that by Sadie being the only one he’ll ask to carry out one of the things he’s deemed truly meaningful as a final act: to make sure the Marstons get out OK.  The trust between them is deep, profound, and unshakable.  At this point, they’re best friends who have each other’s backs, without question.  They fight together, and make it a priority to protect each other.  It says something that when Sadie compliments Arthur as one of the two best men she’s ever known, he literally cannot answer it with his usual awkward insistence of something like “Oh, you’re mistaken/you just don’t really know me” that he answers a compliment of his being a good person in every other instance I can remember.  He does make an awkward joke about “I know the company you keep, the competition ain’t too fierce,” but for once in his forlorn life, he accepts the compliment, because he can’t do otherwise.  Because she does know him very well, and he knows she does.  It’s not so much one massive “aha!” shippery moment with Sadithur as a whole slew of little ones that quietly add up.  It’s how they can joke and laugh together so easily, but also protect each other, support each other, trust each other in trying times.  It’s how well they know each other and don’t excuse each other’s worst moments and traits, but can accept them, and put them in proper context alongside all that they admire about each other, and thus still believe that the other person, fighting to be better as they are, is one of the best people they’ve ever met.It makes for a beautiful M/F friendship in-game, a relationship of true equals who are together because they choose to be there with each other and for each other, not because she needs him as a protector, and he needs to be needed.  And as I’ve observed, I love that it’s not romantic at that point.  It puts such value on a deep love between them that has nothing to do with any romantic or sexual attraction.  But it’s also easy to imagine in a post-game scenario, given time for both of them to heal from their ordeals, romance and desire could eventually grow between them as a part of a bond of trust and love that already exists.  And it’s an even stronger OTP for having that slow burn friendship foundation.    

Here’s what I noticed on my first read through.  Can’t wait to see what you guys do with it :D

LOTREWRITE RESPONSE: Since this is pretty long and includes a number of factual questions that I can answer based on the outlines we created, I decided to answer some of the questions as we go :D  still plenty of interesting food for thought here for the writers!

Looks like quite a bit of dialogue will be copied in a couple episodes (specifically 1, Revolution and Invasion), we really don’t want to rehash things, if things are the same as before or minimal changes maybe focus more on another character reacting to what others are saying than what they are saying.  Or change it up more.  If Len is strong enough at those points he could be used as a different way to view events that changed very little

In the same vein, I realize we’re rewriting but I’m not sure things that work well in the visual format would work well in writing.  Such as the intros.

LOTREWRITE RESPONSE: Since this is being written as a total rewrite of season two, not a fix-it fanfic that only fills in gaps and assumes knowledge of what came before, we wanted to keep some of the stuff we liked! :) People writing episodes where we use a lot of the previous material should feel free to copy as much or as little of their original episodes as they like – there’s a reason we kept them. They can take a different approach to the same episode events if they want, but they don’t need to; the goal isn’t to rewrite everything, it’s to make the season we all would have liked more. My hope is that someone who didn’t watch season 2 of LOT at all would be able to read our season and feel as satisfied as if they’d seen a full season. (My DREAM is that people start using our season as background for fanfic/fanart, but hey, you’ve got to have ambitions!)

A lot of these are more posed as questions further on, since it seems more like questions for writers to work out.

Episode 1

Are wooden pencils really still popular?  I was under the impression mechanical pencils were more common, at least outside of specialized situations.  Or even how is it he still has a pencil his Grandfather gave him presumably when he was a child.  If that’s the case shouldn’t someone at least mentally note on the unusualness of it?  I like the idea but I think the odd circumstances should be noted.

I see where the characterization of Rip is going, but I don’t think he’d be so blunt maybe more like “sufficient knowledge”, it has the same spirit but less direct than “experienced leadership”.

Suggestion: If the characterization is a Jewish Len, then maybe having him playing with Len’s ring while Stein is mentioning his parents escaping Nazi Germany.  Also maybe something a bit less general than “Not speaking German.”  Just hits a bit like all Germans are Nazis, at least for me, and I don’t necessarily even Mick would go that generalized.

Why is Thawne telling Dahrk his plan already?  He’s secretive and doesn’t have any reason to trust him.

Any potential trauma Ray had doesn’t seem to come up again?

LOTREWRITE RESPONSE: I don’t know about you, but I see a lot of wooden pencils everywhere. It’s a bit unusual that Nate didn’t notice that his lucky pencil remains intact after so long, but then again, it’s his lucky pencil that he got from his grandfather – he probably uses it only for things like his thesis or tests. I don’t want to highlight the weirdness of it here, where the pencil should be mentioned but fly under the radar, but it can be mentioned later when the Legends actually figure out that it’s something weird if the writer of that episode wants to.

Rip has been dealing with the Legends not listening to him for a while, and this helps set up his arc by focusing on him thinking he’s better BECAUSE he’s a Time Master. I do like your suggestion of adding more Jewish Len stuff, though! (the “not speaking German” line is straight from the show)

And Thawne is expositioning this early for a number of reasons: 1, it makes more sense for why he’d be there; 2, he’s panicking and has no plan, and it sets him and Darhk on more even footing; 3, it sets up episode 4 better than just having the time wraiths appear as a threat. Happy to take suggestions. Though we should definitely have a few more time wraiths/Black Flash appearances later on, if one of our later writers wants to include that!

Not sure what Ray trauma you mean?

Episode 4

Ummm…I would think that Jax would actually side with Sara, he did warn his dad to try and save him in Season 1

LOTREWRITE RESPONSE: There’s a pretty big difference between Jax’s (quite weak) warning and “Rip Hunter already told us that interfering in this event is a bad idea but now I’m in charge and that means I get to change history any way I like”, so I don’t think I agree :) besides, it’s relevant to Sara’s decision process that everyone seems lined up against her

Episode 7

Again lots of talk of things being the same, would be best to not just rewrite whole scenes with minor changes.   For example in the case of the proposing Barry giving himself up, could skip ahead of that to the pep talk/argument that it’s not a good idea and have include enough that a reader can know what happened if anything was different.

LOTREWRITE RESPONSE: See above – totally OK to copy the scenes that are necessary. Narratively speaking, it might be a bit weird to skip Barry proposing he give himself up and go straight to people discussing why it would be a bad idea; that assumes the reader perfectly recalls the scene as it happened in the original (which I definitely don’t!)

Episode 12

Mick’s interactions with Len seem a lot more advanced from the last episode, maybe they should start earlier?  Or have more of a ramp up?

LOTREWRITE RESPONSE: Good point - we should definitely have more ghost!Len interactions that emphasize his bitterness about the hero thing as we go along. This is true both before and after he "appears" in this episode.

Episode 14

Didn’t in the previous episode Rip hand over the captainship?   Should probably decide which place to have that happen.

LOTREWRITE RESPONSE: I defer to the episode writers of 13/14, but I thought it worked quite well: at the end of 13, Rip rejects the team dynamic and says that Sara’s still the captain, while at the start of 14, we see that even if he has rejected the title of captain, he still thinks he ought to be listened to because he has the most Time Master experience, and that Sara’s still insecure about her position and is willing to listen to him, thereby spurring her episode arc of learning that she IS the most fit to lead the Legends as the team they currently are.

Episode  15

Are we going to see things about Lily earlier?  She hasn’t been in the outlines so far.

I don’t think the Legion has any pieces yet?  Admittedly my first read through for this isn’t as through as I’m trying to get through it all first then go back later with more notes.

Ok more of time loop issue, do we want to presume that these time traveling escapades have always happened?   Reason being the interactions with Carter in particular.  Seeing as he seems to remember all of his past lives he would have remembered the Legends in Season 1, probably had been found of Mick even based on the outline.  If that is the case we might want to come up with a reason he doesn’t.  If we assume this is a changed event, then this could have changed Carter in the modern time.  In that case it could be some to explore if this timeline is explored later.

LOTREWRITE RESPONSE: The Invasion (episode 7) outline mentions that all the Stein-discovers-initially-rejects-and-then-accepts-Lily stuff happens the same as in canon, which sets up Lily's appearance here.

As to the pieces, evil!Rip steals two pieces for the Legion in the American Revolution episode, the Legion gets a piece in the Argentina episode, Legion!Len steals a piece in the Tudor episode. Basically, the Legends are better at getting the episodic spear pieces, but the Legion is pretty good at stealing their pieces.

As for the time loop issue, given the sporadic nature of Carter and Kendra’s memory retention, he may just not have remembered it – or, if he did, it didn’t have enough of an impact on the timeline to change anything. I don’t think there’s any reason to mention it, but I defer to the episode writer!

Episode 16

When did Lily get there?

Entire first bits with Lily when did they happen?

When did Oculus Len come back?

LOTREWRITE RESPONSE: Lily first appears in episode 7. Oculus!Len has always been there, appearing first as hallucinations and then revealed in episode 12 to be a ghost.

Episode 18

So why can’t we just get the spear before it’s broken up if they’re already in the area?

I almost have to laugh that Oculus Len has left and come back twice now.  In rapid succession.  All are good points for it to happen, at the moment I lean towards this later one, if for no other reason I find his presence in these later bits really good.

LOTREWRITE RESPONSE: I’m not sure what you mean – the only time Oculus!Len “leaves” is to go with the Legion at the end of 16 and he “returns” to Mick’s side in 18. When else does he “leave”? And the spear wouldn’t have been “formed” yet – too early in history. A change in Rome's policies re: Jerusalem and the Jews would have huge implications, which works with the Legion's real end goal which is a trap.

Episode 19

Didn’t they just say they had all the pieces?

Wouldn’t it be suspected end of Arthur’s reign?  Last I knew of while it’s fairly well accepted there was a historical Arthur, exactly who he was and when his reign was is unknown.

Episode 20

When did Meryln get there? (Personally I like having him there Meryln and Dahrk are very entertaining together IMO)

I admittedly miss that there is not more Pickpoket Len…but that’s a personal preference.

When they establish Rip didn’t really know much?

Ok I can bite that Green Lantern and Star Sapphire remember the original timeline because of being off planet, debatably in some bubble, but WHY DO THE BAT FAMILY?  Or at least seem to?  In this world why would heroes exist?   Don’t get me wrong I love the Bat Family but HOW?

LOTREWRITE RESPONSE: I’ve fixed the Merlyn references, since he’s been replaced by Queen B. I wouldn’t mind seeing some of that infighting between the two of them. Rip’s character arc took place over Tudor England and the Race Riots, as he realized he knew less about what he was doing than he thought he did. As for the Bat Family – I’ll defer to the episode writer, but I thought the implication was fairly clear that the Bat Family didn’t remember the original timeline, they were just protecting their city as always, and that they were more likely to be a fully formed group in a world where the evil villains had taken over than in the original timeline, where they had not yet fully formed.

End

I can’t really say why but O!Len’s speech outline kind of came off a bit awkward to me, like maybe that’s his sentiment but I’m not sure he’d use those words?

Closing Thoughts

Overall considering so many people are involved it’s doing pretty well.  I think one thing to remember is that one this is being done in a different medium like I mentioned before so somethings that work on TV won’t really work on this way.  Also to remember this is pretty much for fans, and we as fans know what happened, if things are pretty much the same it shouldn’t need to be rewritten scene for scene.

I never really saw where Stein had his development?  Also Sara’s arc seems a bit up and down as well?  Maybe checking in with each other what she’s doing?

I really hope to see some more small references for some personal stuff like Mick/Len, Sara sleeping her way through history, Amaya struggling with losing her lover, ect.  I realize they may be planned but just not in the outlines since they are mostly small details.

I hope no one is offended by these.

LOTREWRITE: Thanks for your comments!