I had to send a screenshot to my dad and deliberately left in that I was listening to music about Palestinian identity with a particularly obvious title so he gets a little bit of a warning of what's coming for him when I get home tomorrow

i love the pumpkin decor from anura and the skulls from silk cradle !! even though its not even close to halloween,,,(its always in my heart lmao) i was thinking about bishops (+narinder and/or labert, if your up for it) platonically with a child! black cat reader (who is kind of like in the spooky month skid and pump mindset LOL, but the town they grew up in, possibly outside the lands of the old faith, is very halloween-centered)

i hope this isnt too specific !!

Don't worry, Halloween's ALWAYS in my heart haha. I love those decorations too! And the ones from the blood moon ritual. Can't wait for that event again

.........

Heket

With pumpkin patches flourishing in her domain, it only makes sense for her to have celebrations and rituals surrounding the harvest season.

Yet she knows nothing of this "Halloween" you've rambled on about to her followers, nor why you became so excited upon discovering that Anura's environment reflects the autumn season.

That's because the town you're from is centered entirely around the holiday, with you living among ghouls, skeletons, demons, crows, and (of course) other black cats.

To you, every day is Halloween and you're loud and proud about it!

You introduced the idea of jack o'lanterns to Heket when she discovers you carving a pumpkin, sticking a candle inside after you gutted the entire crop, much to her confusion and annoyance.

"You there..why do you waste precious food?" She accuses, but you're completely oblivious to her anger.

"Where I come from, we always carve pumpkins! And we make cool things like this!" You show her your finished product: a Yellow Crown carved onto the face of the pumpkin. "I offer this to you, Lady Heket."

"I see, but...what am I to do with it?"

"You put it outside your home to ward off scary spirits! Like those who wanna wilt the crops!"

She had her doubts about these traditions of yours, but she grows to like this "jack of lantern" and puts it into effect almost immediately.

More followers join in, learning how to carve their own pumpkins and place them outside their homes.

It actually gives the incredibly superstitious and paranoid some comfort that they won't be haunted or plagued by negative spirits/energy.

Heket made a point to allow an overabundance of pumpkin patches during Halloween season so there's enough for both food and carving.

She also discovers people are willing to pay for the best-looking ones, so she allows the elders to run stands by the fields and make some coin.

Ofc, a good chunk of the profits go directly to her.

Shamura

Skull piles and skeletal decorations are commonplace in Silk Cradle, being trophies of wars and intimidating those who dared wander into their domain--grim reminders that it could be their own skull next.

You, however, find them nonthreatening as you've had similar decor back in your little town of Halloween (/ref).

Fake or not, you loved them all the same (plus the cobwebs, even though most are just part of the natural environment) and had to ask Shamura if Halloween was celebrated all year here, too.

Although their brain struggles to recollect things, they have books on holidays and their ancient origins..so they are aware it exists.

But it's not one they ever cared to implement.

Nevertheless, they permit you to decorate your home to your heart's content with whatever skulls and bundles of silk you found--as well as pumpkins shipped from Anura.

They're nicer to you bc you remind them of Narinder back in his youth, fascinated with the spooky and the taboo.

All the giant axe traps and toxic pits scattered throughout Silk Cradle never bothered you, as you've seen them back in the spooky dungeons of your hometown.

Usually the resident bugs would freak out any newcomer shelling in new traditions..but Shamura told them that you, specifically, are not to be harmed under any circumstance and that they allowed this.

You've actually befriended Hauras, sewing them a spidery Halloween cape for them in place of the gray rags they wore.

They wear it with pride to every sermon from there on, not caring who judges.

Kallamar

This bishop's paranoia is a force to be reckoned with.

Even if one hapless follower said the words "red crown" in any context, he'll strike them down for "preaching heresy". He's easily scared of the taboo and misfortune falling into his realm.

So Halloween is definitely the last thing he wants to hear about, especially with its association of black cats (who are in turn associated with bad luck and Narinder).

He keeps trying to shoo you away when you try explaining that's a common myth.

If he sees you using bones and skulls as decorations, he feels sick to his stomach and orders you to take them down.

Those can be used to forge weapons or intimidate potential dissenters! They're not yours to keep!!

Yet you never listen, oblivious to his demands as you try telling him they're harmless.

Would he ever punish you for disobeying with sickness or sacrifice?

No...or at least not at this stage in your life.

That would damage his already-fragile reputation as a leader even further.

But if you grew up into an elder and continued with these "twisted traditions", however, he'd punish you as retribution for the "torment" you've brought upon him.

He just wishes you'd follow his ways and his ways alone.

Fortunately for you, that retribution never comes as he's brought into Lamb's cult during your teen years...with you keeping the Halloween tradition alive and well.

And Kallamar has a more open mind now, although he's still easily spooked by the decor Lamb brings out during the Blood Moon Festival.

The first time he partakes in it, someone pranked him with a fake ear and it traumatized him so bad he cried and hid inside his shelter.

But you comforted him, forgoing the festivities and sharing your candy until he was okay.

You just show him how to carve a jack o'lantern for the remainder of the night, and he's in awe as it glows.

Every year since, Halloween becomes less and less scary for him--and it's all ironically thanks to you.

Leshy

As a young bishop, he's open to ideas for traditions, holidays, etc. for his followers to enjoy.

So when little kitty cat you hailing from a distant land of Halloween propose celebrating it...he's all for it!

The only problem is, well, his sight.

With the Green Crown, he can see the general forms of followers, his siblings, and most structures within Darkwood, but he wouldn't be able to see the tiny details that gave Halloween its magic.

But you explained how you could go for bigger and brighter things. Like jack o'lanterns (made of both pumpkins and turnips) and skulls of giant beasts!

He approves of it and lets you lead in decorating the village nearest to his temple.

Followers initially questioned why they had to listen to a child, of all folks, but they're grateful it's something genuinely fun.

From your town, you've also brought scented candles to really enhance everybody's spooky spirit.

Especially for your Lord Leshy, who finds the smells delightful.

The pumpkin spice ends up becoming his favorite.

You've got him completely fixated on this event.

Plus it's a good opportunity for chaos to reign: with followers pranking one other and scaring each other half to death, dressing up like ghouls and skeletons.

The Bonfire Ritual is one Leshy likes to conduct to boost both his strength and cult morale (he's gotta benefit from all of this somehow too, of course).

Lamb

Not only did Lamb's cult know about Halloween...but they also celebrated it with the Blood Moon Festival.

You fully participated in the ritual every year, rushing outside just in time to see the moon turn blood-red and the sky darken for several days.

The ghosts of deceased followers usually terrified the living, yet you greeted all of them with smiles, waving goodbye as Lamb exorcised them with their book.

Crows, cattle skeletons, and even demons flocked to the cult as well, having been residents of your hometown, too.

And the decorations?????

You were obsessed and jumping for joy, wanting to decorate your little shelter and help everybody else with theirs!

And of course you participated in the many activities going on, including bonfire rituals, apple bobbing, and passing out soul cakes (yep you had a recipe for that from your hometown, too).

One year, Webber showed up and was initially scared since everyone was just staring at them and the spiders scattered around their feet..

But you greeted them warmly, showing them around the cult grounds and what the festival was all about.

Lamb themselves is impressed.

You're only half the age of most of their followers, yet you're active and very responsible (although only if your tasks have anything to do with Halloween).

So as a gift, they bless you with a jack o'lantern necklace. Not only does it light up at night, but its magical properties allowed you to lift up any pumpkin no matter its size with ease!

You vow to carve the biggest jack o'lantern the Old Faith's ever seen.

Felicia and Hinoka!

Talk about two very good girls! I'm excited to do these ones. I'll go in the order of how they were requested. Before I begin, though, I should note that I wasn’t sure if “favourite relationship” referred to overall or specifically romantically, so I did both.

Also: I talk a lot. I am very sorry.

Felicia:

First Impression?

Is it weird to say that I don’t remember much of my first impression of Felicia? I think there were just so many characters to get to know when I was playing Birthright that it took me awhile to start thinking about her. Tack on the fact that I played as Female Corrin, and I didn’t get to see much of her until later.

From what I do remember, though, I recall thinking she was quite cute and sweet. I liked her design a fair bit, and I remember kind of wishing that I could have her at my side instead of Jakob (no disrespect to him, though). Something about her just kind of caught me off the bat, and after the emotional impact of Flora’s death, I found myself growing more and more interested in her character. 

Impression Now?

I would probably say that she’s my favourite Fire Emblem character overall. An unpopular opinion, I know, but there’s just something about her that really speaks to me. She just interests me so much because she lives in this world of prejudice and deceptive people and she’s just so... genuine. She wears her heart on her sleeve, is extremely loyal, and is always open about how she’s feeling. She’s not afraid to fight back if she needs to, but all it takes is for her to be given a little kindness and that fighting energy can be soothed. 

In particular, I found that her character really spoke to me as someone who struggles with an anxiety disorder. Though I know it’s not the intention, I can’t help but read her clumsiness somewhat allegorically, especially since she is already such a nervous character. Her clumsiness is a detriment to her everyday life. She’s been like this for as long as she can remember, and it’s not going to go away anytime soon. Nearly everyone around her treats her like she’s an inconvenience, and she’s known to have emotional outbursts over things her clumsiness causes. And even with all of this in place, she still gets treated as worthwhile. When she fights in the war despite admitting to being terrified on the battlefield, she’s considered brave. Even when she does nothing but cause problems, Flora, Corrin, Gunter, and Jakob never give up on her. Instead of being completely cast aside, her other traits are highlighted as important. Her emotional perceptiveness, her kindness, her bravery, and her loyalty are traits that are celebrated in big and little ways throughout the narrative. When I see my anxiety in her clumsiness, I see a reminder that even if I’m a lot of trouble sometimes, it’s not all that I’m worth. It makes her a special character to me, even if I know that other people would dismiss her as “waifu bait”.

Favourite Moment?

I can only pick one? I’d honestly take a version of all three stories narrated just from Felicia’s perspective, if I could. Still, if I had to pick a favourite moment of Felicia’s, it would be in her supports with Laslow when he’s trying to get her to hit on guys to build her confidence. He sets her out to ask out some guys, and it seems like she’s going to approach a few of them...

Until Laslow realizes she’s actually just walking away completely because this is an uncomfortable situation she doesn’t want to be in. 

I laughed so hard at that because it was just too damn relatable. If I could just run away from every situation that made me uncomfortable like that, I would. Honestly, the Felicia/Laslow supports are awesome, and one of my favourites in the game.

Idea for a Story?

I have... so many... 

But one I really wanted to work on was centered a bit more on her childhood in the Ice Tribe. I’m really interested in the tribe, but of course we didn’t get many worldbuilding elements for it because there was just... so much going on in Fates, so I wanted to delve into a story about what it was like there when she was growing up. The story would center around how Felicia (and, of course, Flora) perceived things like their mother’s death and Nohrian imperialism through their young eyes, and later, their older ones. 

I’m not sure I have enough interesting content to write that into a full story, but I definitely intend to dip it into a lot of my other ones. Whether it’s some fluff one-shot for a pairing or a long fic like Blood-Splattered Child, I really enjoy littering my stories with tiny details like these.

Unpopular Opinion?

She should not have kept her concept art design, and I don’t know why this is a popular opinion. In case you aren’t familiar with it, this is the one:

Do I agree that it is super cute? Of course I do. But part of the reason I think it looks super cute is because it looks like Female Corrin, who I also think is super cute. 

I think having Felicia look so close to her liege, especially in a game with messy bloodlines, just would have made things complicated. On the one hand, her loyalty and the design melded together would create dumb jokes, and on the other hand, it would have just made people think she was Corrin’s family when she very much is not... because the people in Fates who are related don’t often look terribly related.

Favourite Relationship?

Favourite relationship as in non-romantic? Flora! Classic answer, I know, but their relationship reminds me very much of me and my older sister. My older sister is pretty much perfect, but her one insecurity has always been her intelligence. She’s pretty smart, really, but because our intelligence manifests in different ways, she seems to always think of me as smarter than she is. Meanwhile, I look up to her and think the world of her, so I see a lot of our relationship in the twins.

Plus, I think there’s just something very interesting about the way they love each other. Flora loves Felicia with all her heart, but there is apart of her that resents her sister, too. She can’t help but be jealous of her, but at the same time, she can’t help but want to protect her from the world. Meanwhile, Felicia adores Flora, but isn’t able to stop being a burden upon her. If there’s one thing she wants, it’s for Flora to be able to rely on her and be proud of her. However, Flora finds this confusing when it does occur, and feels like the position of big sister is being taken away from her. I guess I just find it to be a very intriguing observance of big sister/little sister dynamics, because so often you hear that being the older sibling is just pain where your younger sibling doesn’t know how much you love them, but Felicia does. Felicia sees her sister as a person, too, and just wants to be someone worthy of this girl she looks up to so much.

In terms of romantic relationships, though... By virtue of last minute pair-ups, I actually ended up falling in love with Ryoma/Felicia. I’m a simple woman — you give me a pairing with a serious, world-weary person falling in love with a sweet optimist and I melt into a puddle. I love how patient he is with her, how she sort of draws out of her shell a bit with him, and just all of the potential interactions they have as a duo. They’re one of those pairings where I don’t even necessarily need them to be romantic, I just like them together. They create such a unique dialogue that I can’t help but love it. They have contrasts of their own, like Ryoma’s emotional distance against Felicia’s emotional openness, but their own similarities in things like stubbornness and faith in family... and I just can’t help but think about the varying ways that they would make each other happy and, ultimately, better people. 

Also, I’m a big believer in the “Ryoma has abandonment issues” theory, and according to research, one of the best things for someone with abandonment issues in a relationship is having a partner who will love you but not coddle you, and I feel like Felicia is capable of either getting that done, or knowing when to step back if it’s too much for her. Although the best thing to do before he gets into any kind of relationship would be to go therapy, but that is neither here nor there. Seriously. Someone help him. Get Xander too, while you’re at it.

Favourite Headcanon?

I come up with headcanons for her birthday every year, so this is tough, but I think one of my all time favourites was that she pulls her hair in front of her face when she’s embarrassed or shy. It’s just such a cute mental image that I can’t help but love it. It feels like it could be canon.

Hinoka:

First Impression?

I had an advantage on my first impression of Hinoka because my partner loves her. So I leapt right into the game knowing that she was a cool girl, and when I actually met her, I was not disappointed by her in the slightest. I do remember initially feeling a bit underwhelmed by her just because she doesn’t get all that much focus in the story, but slowly but surely I fell in love with her. It kind of just slapped me in the face one day, which is actually pretty par for the course with me when it comes to finding new blorbos.

Impression Now?

I think she is even cooler now than I did then. Due to being a late addition to the story (apparently, she was inserted in as the Hoshidan older sister due to being the design Camilla was made to be the opposite of, as well as being Kozaki’s favourite design), she doesn’t get as much screentime, but it gave me an opportunity to really take apart her dialogue and support conversations and look at the person she is. She’s serious to a fault, but still has her moments of being teasing and silly. Her heart is so big that she always does her best to look out for others, even at her own expense, but she’s allowed to have a temper of her own, too. At her heart she’s still a big crybaby, even though she’s still very strong, and she really does seem to just want to make the world a better place. She wants to be a good person and is constantly fighting for it, but also recognizes that she wasn’t always as good as she should have been to the people who mattered most. 

I think what impresses me most about Hinoka is just that I find her to be one of the most human characters in Fates. While some characters are much more out there, she’s very down to earth. She kind of feels like someone you could know in real life, rather than a caricature of something else. Every time I go back and replay the games, I’m always reminded of what a gem she is, and I’m still disappointed that we don’t get to focus more on her. If they ever do any kind of Fates remake, “more attention for Hinoka” is going to be one of the things that’s at the top of my wishlist.

Favourite Moment?

These are two different moments, but both within Conquest, and both good ones. It’s when she’s guarding the Rainbow Sage and when she’s guarding the Castle Shirasagi. There’s just something about Hinoka taking a stand that gets me. 

If I had to guess, I would probably say that I deeply respect her bravery in these situations. Even if I don’t think she was necessarily in the right in the Rainbow Sage situation, her willingness to fight against Corrin and even do something that is morally questionable (Ryoma can say whatever he likes, that was a hostage situation) intrigues me. You know deep down that Hinoka is clearly fighting her own demons about this whole situation, but in these moments, she’s doing what she does best: she’s fighting to protect the people she cares about, and the people who rely upon her. If that requires her to get hurt or bend her moral code, then she’s accepted that that’s the price she’s going to pay. 

It just speaks to her character so well.

Idea for a Story?

Okay, so this one is technically a two-shot because there’s another half but only one half is majorly centered on her. Still, I really want to write it. Admittedly, it’s similar to the Felicia one in the sense that it follows Hinoka as she grows up in Hoshido, but this one is designed mainly to focus on the patriarchy that’s present in the country, and how it influenced Hinoka as she grew up. At the time of its conception, I was going to call it First Blood, referencing that quote about women’s first blood not coming from between their legs but from biting their tongues. However, once the companion piece came to mind, I decided to call it Silence is the Voice of Woman (with the companion being Anger is the Voice of Man).

The fic would focus majorly on all of the times that Hinoka was pressured into silence as she grew, how she had to bend herself to fit into this mold that she could never seem to grasp, until she was finally able to take hold of the person that she wanted to be. It would confront her role as the older sister, as a daughter, as someone who tries very hard to be a protector, and as a political figure. I thought it would be some good character intrigue for Hinoka, as well as some worldbuilding to that element of Hoshido.

Unpopular Opinion?

She’s not a boring character just obsessed with Corrin, people just don’t like to look at her like a human being. Like, to some degree, I get it. She really didn’t get that much attention in the narrative. But at the same time... reducing her to just loving Corrin and only that makes you look the fool, not her. 

I see this a lot in particular with her being blamed for Takumi and Sakura’s insecurities. They reduce her to a love-blinded Corrin fanatic who can’t look beyond her own nose to see that her siblings are hurting, and it just totally neglects that Hinoka herself was also a child once. Don’t get me wrong, I think there’s a lot of validity to Takumi and Sakura’s hurt, but I resent when people pin it upon Hinoka like she meant for it to happen.

She’s the only character with a confirmed age, being twenty-one, and she had to grow up pretty fast upon realizing that war was on her doorstep. She lost both her parents in rapid succession, lost a sibling, was confronted with an incoming war, was possibly traumatized by witnessing the murder/corpse of her father, and left in an environment where the only family member she felt she could turn to was her older brother (who wasn’t even officially “in her corner” half the time, as he acted as a proxy for their step-mother). Growing up in that environment would be so confusing and frustrating for her, and I can’t blame her for attaching to an idea like that. There’s always going to be apart of her that’s stuck in the mindset of needing to bring Corrin home to make everything okay again, and that’s because she had such a traumatic childhood. Does it mean that Takumi and Sakura don’t have a right to feel the way they do? Of course not! But we shouldn’t paint Hinoka as an insensitive jerk, either. 

Favourite Relationship?

Favourite non-romantic relationship is her and Ryoma... The lobster man keeps worming his way into these, gosh darn it. Jokes aside, I really like their relationship because for the most part it’s pretty sweet, but at the same time, there is an element to it that adds to the family conflict in its own way. I really like how much they care for each other and how much attention they clearly put into forming a decent relationship. With a shared goal in mind, I think it’s pretty easy to see how they would have that space to connect, especially since they’re so into their athletics. It’s also noteworthy that the few times we really see either of them open up to someone is to each other. While Ryoma still does go for a dodge when she reminds him that other people can hear them talking about his feelings, the fact that he wanted to talk to her about it and the fact that she reaffirmed she’d listen after the fact speaks volumes. And in Revelation, when Ryoma opens up to Yukimura, Hinoka is quick to validate his feelings when she overhears, and he acknowledges hers as being important as well. They clearly place a lot of trust in one another, and there are times I just can’t get over how happy they sound when they’re interacting. I always read Ryoma’s line introducing Hinoka with a sense of pride, like he’s bragging to Corrin about his super talented little sister who can kill a man with ease. 

That being said, part of the appeal to me about the relationship is that it’s... kind of part of the fracture, in its own way. With no one else to truly turn to in their youth, with siblings too young to understand and a step-mother they loved but always had a distance from (unpopular belief but I don’t think Ryoma and Mikoto are super close, they describe their relation with “cordial”, as in “warm, but not close”), I think they really attached to each other, to the point of nearly putting one another on that Corrin pedestal. It’s like their way of chasing the past, trying to fix their family the best way they know how. They’re repeatedly trying to fix something they broke, as well as clinging to each other for all they’re worth because it’s just a relief to have someone who understands. It’s a hell of a relationship, and I wish we could have explored it more.

Favourite romantic relationship for her is a toughie, but it’s between Setsuna and Camilla. I just can’t get over what a loving dope Setsuna is, especially with Hinoka. The descriptor that Hinoka “fell in love with” Setsuna’s archery in the art book as well just makes me think... yeah, there could be something a little gay going on there. Hinoka’s tolerance with Setsuna, even when she’s actively causing trouble, speaks to affection for her, and conversely, Setsuna is always raving about how cool and strong Hinoka is. I can’t help but giggle at the idea of them as a couple. Hinoka deserves to live a happy life with her idiot wife.

Otherwise, though, I’ve warmed to Camilla and Hinoka recently. I didn’t used to be much of a fan, but there’s an appeal to it. For one thing, Camilla can get Hinoka flustered with a snap of her fingers and that’s just cute as heck, but I feel like they would just make for very loving partners. I can’t get over the idea of them having their little house on the border of Hoshido and Nohr with a couple of adopted kids, just living the simple life while taking time to visit their families every once in awhile. I think that beneath the surface level flirting, the sort of serious natures found within both the girls could have a healing energy for each other. Camilla’s wise words could encourage Hinoka’s confidence, while Hinoka’s gentle caring could help Camilla feel more secure with her position in the lives of others. Given Camilla’s canonical abandonment issues, I wouldn’t say that they wouldn’t have any bumps in the road, but I think they would be able to really put in the effort to work it out together. I just wish their support conversations gave them more to work with in terms of romance, because they could be so gosh darn cute!

Favourite Headcanon?

Like Felicia, I do a yearly set of birthday headcanons for her, so of course I have some favourites. Personally, I love the one about her welcoming her siblings to sleep in her room or even her bed any time they want. Her caring nature and sensitivity to others’ needs just makes it seem so believable for her.

Plus I can’t help picturing the whole family in one big cuddle puddle in her room after the parent fights in Revelation. Seriously, it’s too cute.

The Cult of the Saints: An Outline

The Cult of the Saints: Its Rise and Function in Latin Christianity, by Peter Brown.

Chapter 2: “A Fine and Private Place”

1. Inscriptions on graves stretching over a millennium are “reminders of the massive stability of the Mediterranean care of the dead.” Funerary customs were simply “part and parcel” of the human condition, and so rituals were surprisingly indifferent to labels like “pagan,” “Christian,” “elite,” or “popular.” They were less a religious experience as they were a human experience, with the central aspect in all cases being the importance of the deceased’s family in taking care of the dead. 2. At the same time, the grave became a flashpoint where tensions between communal and familial loyalties could be expressed and played out. Different societies at different times have attempted to deal with the apparent contradiction of loyalty among its constituencies in different ways; some have been content to allow certain members of the dead “to retain a high profile,” while others have attempted to suppress the power of certain deceased and their families. (x) 3. Though such tensions shift the field of conversation from overt theology to more subtle sociological concerns within the community, the language used to discuss these tensions nonetheless remain religiously charged. Granting ammunition to those scholars who use the two-tier popular religion model, writers of this period like Augustine and Jerome attempted to frame undesirable practices as pagan holdovers. 4. This framing of undesirable practices as pagan holdovers has influenced later historians; by taking such claims at face value, scholars like A.H.M. Jones could later look at texts written by these same authors that speak positively of the cult of the saints and frame these texts as the final victory of the vulgar in pressuring the practices of the elite. But such a view fails to hold up under scrutiny. 5. For example, the elites who decried ‘paganisms’ that had infiltrated Christian practice often blamed a phenomenon of mass conversions that had happened in the century since Constantine’s conversion to Christianity. There are two issues with such reasoning; recent archaeological work at Hippo has failed to find evidence of a sudden mass conversion to Christianity among its 4th Century inhabitants; the growth of the community seems to have come from a rising population occurring within a stable Christian community. Second, the practices being described as pagan in origin were often practiced by the elite Christians themselves, and had been practiced by such Christians for generations before. 6. By looking beyond the writings of a select few elites who lived during the generation of Augustine and Jerome, a different picture starts to be formed; this picture forces us to confront the tensions between the universal Church, which articulated itself as a form of extended spiritual kinship, and the biological kin units that were members of this Church. 7. The increased centralization of the Church in late antiquity, combined with the central ritual meal in which all members would participate, allowed the institution to become a form of “artificial kin group.” This is shown by their funerary practices; by the early third century, the Church in Rome had its own cemetery, and the burial of non-Christians within its territory was seen as a breach in kinship ties. Likewise, the Christian Church prayed for its dead specifically, at the exclusion of heathens, apostates, and excommunicates. Likewise, the dates of the deaths of martyrs and bishops were recorded and memorialized as a form of family history. 8. At the same time, the ‘privatization’ of the cult of the saints threatened the universality of the Church; writers like Augustine and Vigilantius criticized devotions centered on ancestral graves and relics for this very reason. There was an anxiety that the rise of feast days dedicated to localized saints could threaten the importance of Easter, and the holy sites in Jerusalem could be neglected in favor of tombs closer to home. 9. By keeping these conflicting interests in mind, the framing of the controversy changes from a Christian intellectual elite trying to suppress a ‘vulgar’ religious practice to a battle between two different Christian elites attempting to position themselves as the proper patrons of the cult; the bishops representing the universal Church, and the families of the venerated deceased. 10. This conflict can be seen in the creation of shrines and the private possessions of relics by wealthy laypersons. Families would often construct shrines to saints with the intention of burying their own dead in proximity to them, depositio ad sanctos. This led to some resentment; the grave of one poor person located outside a chapel had an inscription which said his position outside the church was a result of his poverty, but quips that he nonetheless is “as warm as they” who were laid to rest by the saint. In another case, a woman named Lucilla was rebuked by a deacon for kissing the bone of a martyr that she owned before receiving the Eucharist in her mouth. 11. In Rome itself, tensions between these groups were less severe; the Christian poet Paulinus praised a Roman senator who held a feast at the grave of an ancestor on his death-day, for example. Pope Damascus, likewise, was able to exert influence on prominent members of wealthy Christian families in order to keep a hold on “cemeteries that could so easily have slipped irrevocably out of their control.” Outside of Rome, Ambrose of Milan would play a prominent role in the cooling of this crisis. After the relics of Saints Gervasius and Protasius were discovered in 385, Ambrose was swift to appropriate them for himself; he collected the corpses and placed them in a basilica of his own creation, “inseparably link[ing them] to the communal liturgy.” 12. Ambrose had neither created the practice of saint veneration, nor did he simply accept cult veneration as something outside his control; by linking relics to particular churches and basilicas throughout his territory, Ambrose had essentially “rewired” the practice by connecting it to places of public worship. Augustine’s writings in favor of the saints would perform a similar function; whereas their intercession was previously a largely private affair, his recording of ‘authentic’ miracles by their intercession made these stories the public domain of all Christians. 13. In the generation directly after Augustine, the ambivalence towards the cult of the saints had shifted; figures like Gregory of Tours and Paulinus were greatly enthusiastic with the celebrations of the saints. Two factors may have played a part in this; first was the economic situation in western Europe; even during Augustine’s term as bishop, his community controlled more wealth than he ever did as an individual, and in fact struggled to find ways to spend it. 14. While much of the Mediterranean struggled with financing its ecclesiastical ambitions, Italy, Gaul, and North Africa seemed to have an abundance of wealth; whereas Alexandria “had to choose between shirts for then poor and the itch to build,” western Europe did not have the surge in population that made it difficult to fund reliefs for the poor and sick. And, without the traditional ways of spending wealth for the community, resentment for their possession of the wealth could fester. The cult of the saints allowed the Church to avoid that; by publicly funding shrines and hosting feasts and ceremonies at them, the money could be funneled back to the community. 15. Furthermore, the cult of the saints helped to redefine urban life in the Roman world. Before, the city was divided into citizens (men belonging to the city) and non-citizens (women, children, the poor, and visitors). Most of the time, these latter two categories were allowed to remain in the city, but at times of war or famine they were forcibly expelled; the line of who belonged was drawn. With the rise of the cult of the saints, both women and the poor were able to participate in public life like never before. 16. The most dramatic expression of women’s involvement would be the processions on feast days, which scandalized even some of the clergy; men and women, married and unmarried, walked and mingled together during these celebrations. Later, under Islamic rule, there are records of young men coming to such festivals specifically to see the women. In some cases, illicit sexual activity did occur - Augustine had one in one of the basilicas of Carthage before his conversion to Christianity. 17. Beyond the physical mixing of the sexes, the cult of the saints allowed women to partake in situations that were not dominating by men in the traditional sense. Most shrines were located in cemeteries, where the regulation between the sexes was more lax. Beyond that, however, the escape from the “rigidities of her urban setting” could mean a complete escape from the masculine presence in its entirety. One account of a pilgrim details her walking a circuit of shrines in which even the male saint being venerated did not act in the traditionally Roman masculine form. (x) 18. The poor, meanwhile, often congregated around shrines, as they were heavily associated with charity and gift-giving. This was part of a larger shift to a postclassical society in which the citizen/non-citizen divide was replaced with the rich and poor as the primary separator; the rich were expected to provide service to the poor through a religiously charged expression of patron-client relationship. The poor were not to be thrown out “at the first touch of famine,” but were essential parts of this system of patronage. 19. The inclusion of the poor as social recipients was mirrored by the inclusion of women as givers. This development allowed women to participate in public life at a time where public laws were still forbidding them to participate in politics; under the Christian worldview, charity was an act of mercy, and not an act of politics. Women could therefore visit the sick, feed the poor, and fully participate as patrons of shrine-based ceremonies without breaching this ban. 20. These developments hopefully show that the development of the cult of the saints was not the result of a “vulgar,” half-pagan majority forcing their will on a reluctant, educated Christian elite. Rather, it was a development within the Christian community that created intracommunal tensions and resulted in a tradition that broke from traditional paganism.

These are some good good thoughts, Star! Some VERY good thoughts. 

Looking back on it, a lot of support for L’manburg came from the fact that they were the underdogs of the story, and because Dream is so good at playing a villain. But upon closer examination, Dream didn’t really have any good reason to recognize L’manburg as an independent server. Wilbur just declared it as such.

Even Tommy and Tubbo were a little reluctant to join in with the revolution at first, when Wilbur and Dream were first discussing independence and Wilbur specifically denied the possibility of dual citizenship.

Schlatt’s ban especially was a large part of what drove Tommy in the war, as he saw that as an example of Dream’s tyranny. (Dream, of course, just hadn’t whitelisted Schlatt in the first place and was confused by why he was there). He brought it up afterwards at the Election debate as one of the reasons for the L’manburg Revolution.

You are absolutely right about Wilbur’s contradictions. His rules for L’manburg (no weapons, no armor, PVP turned off, a British-exclusive whitelist, etc.) were arguably way more restrictive and oppressive than Dream’s rules for the rest of the server (no stealing, no griefing, no killing the Ender Dragon, no OP automation -- again, it was probably that last rule that caused some of the view of Dream’s rules as “tyranny” since that had caused conflict most recently) And of course, the point that started this fight for independence had to do with the drugs, and the Americans interfering with that whole scheme.

Wilbur’s original vision for L’manburg did not include democracy. There were never supposed to be any legitimate elections. One of the first things he said after they gained independence was that L’manburg was not democratic.

Quackity, an outsider, was the one to step in and challenge Wilbur’s morality. A one-party system? All the exclusion? He even had Dream’s support during the election, as both he and Dream saw the potential of having a member of the cabinet from each faction to help negotiations and bring peace to the land.

Now, when Schlatt and Quackity took over, a lot of Wilbur’s rules were overthrown. The walls were torn down, Quackity was finally allowed to join L’manburg after being denied for a long time, and Schlatt even came up with the idea for a fun festival event to celebrate democracy. Guns and armor were now allowed in L’manburg. Wilbur and Tommy were not. 

Pretty much everything about this new Manberg -- democracy, weapons, inclusivity -- went against what Wilbur had fought so hard for. This was when the switch happened from his L’manburg to something else entirely.

He said in the Button Room that he didn’t think, even with Tubbo in charge, that L’manburg could ever be brought back to what it was.

And he was right!

Because now L’manburg had Quackity, and later Karl. It had no walls. It had democracy. All these things that would have never been allowed in the Old L’manburg were now front and center in the new one.

Tubbo’s first decree as President restored the pacifistic no weapons/no armor rule, but it also established future elections. Legitimate elections. The walls were kept down, as they were now seen as a symbol of restriction from the past. Some of the changes that Schlatt and Quackity made stuck. 

That’s what has made New L’manburg one of the most honest iterations of L’manburg as a whole, I think. The fact that Tubbo hasn’t restored the old status quo, but accepted a new one. He took rules from both administrations and has left the crater preserved beneath the water as a reminder of the destruction that had happened.

And a lot of these changes have led to New L’manburg gaining Dream’s favor as well. Dream decided to recognize New L’manburg because he saw Tubbo being a fair, just, honest ruler, something that he believed Wilbur, Schlatt, Tommy or Quackity never could be. 

Is Tubbo a perfect leader? No, he isn’t. He’s violated his own rules for the country before, and his willingness to go along with the Butcher Army and their actions is a little questionable.

But Dream and Ghostbur are both right about Tubbo: 

He’s the best leader L’manburg’s ever had.

The only question is if it’s enough, or if L’manburg truly is forever doomed to fall.

the christmas prompt but with executor pleasee

From, Executor

Christmas Letter and Gift event

The Christmas event has now concluded!! 🥺☃️ I'll make a post talking more about the event at a later date! 🌸

You honestly expected to be working during the Holidays, but as it turns out, everyone at Rhodes Island receives a small break for Christmas - and that includes you.

The break was already awfully gracious in your opinion; so imagine your surprise when you had entered your office to collect your belongings to take home with you for the Holidays, only to find a white envelope closed with a red wax seal on your desk.

Brow lifted, you approach your desk and carefully pick it up - on the back of the envelope, your name is printed in oddly familiar uniform hand-printing and the letter feels thin in your hand. Did someone get you a Christmas gift? You don’t recall anyone hinting to you that they were planning to get you one.

Nevertheless, you forget your original reason for coming by your office, and instead you allow all your attention to be captured by the letter; the seal breaks easily, and inside the envelope you find a sheet of paper folded carefully in half, bearing rows upon rows of words written in that same uniform penmanship - but this time you smile and your eyes soften, as when you read the first line you recognize who the writing belongs to.

--------------------

Hello love.

I was not planning on sending you a letter, so please forgive my suddenness. I assure you that I have a reason for taking up your time; though, while I am not certain I will be able to articulate my thoughts very well while writing this, trust in me when I say this letter comes from a place of warmth in my heart that I did not even know existed until you and I encountered each other.

While this is indeed a Holiday letter, I see no use in Christmas; but I am well aware others care for it very much. Laterano commemorates Christmas to an extreme extent, even going as far as decorating the streets, churches and all buildings for the occasion - they are very advanced in technology, and so many of the cities are illuminated with phenomenal light displays during this time of year; I have seen such on many occasions. I am educated on the traditions closely related to Christmas and I saw that it mattered to others, though I did not understand the motive behind celebrating it. I lacked a reason to spend time enjoying the Holidays, as well as someone to enjoy said Holidays with.

[Name]; now that you are in my life, I think I understand the reasons as to why people enjoy Christmas to a greater extent than I did previously, but it goes much beyond that - after being with you, and as our relationship grew into something I never anticipated it to become, many aspects of my life changed.

I found myself having you in my thoughts while carrying out missions, I noticed I became worried beyond belief if you were not caring for yourself or if you were hurt, and the way I viewed the world became less and less mechanical. Perhaps the Notarial Hall would see these new thoughts and feelings as problematic or as something that would hinder my ability to complete missions and work; but I am the most content I have ever been. Love, at your side I’ve found happiness and warmth that I did not think I had the capacity for. Words cannot adequately express my gratefulness for you - thank you.

As for Christmas specifically, the Laterano Notarial Hall offers a period of leave in order for people to celebrate Christmas with their families and those they care about. Rarely have I ever taken this leave, as a matter a fact, the only times I would pause my work were when I was very ill or hospitalized. I’ve always disregarded any Holidays and continued my work as usual because I had no reason to take time to enjoy them. This year, however, I will accept the offer. Why’s that? It’s quite simple; I wish to celebrate Christmas with you, love.

[Name], it may seem odd I am taking time away from my work - the fact I am not prioritizing my mission over all else as I typically would it is strange to me as well. For a very long time, carrying out the commissions I was given was the sole thing I cared about, but now that you are here, my mission is not of most importance to me; you are. Oripathy, Catastrophes, war, death - though I am well aware these things are able to end either of our lives unceremoniously, I do not worry about them when I have you in my thoughts, love. Maybe I am repeating myself, but I feel most at ease when I am with you, and I feel very happy whenever we are together. And so, I feel as though I need to spend this Holiday season expressing my appreciation to you.

I understand we spend much of our time together, both when working and when resting, though the Holidays seem like an occasion that is much more special; it is a time where I can spend time with you and cherish those moments without any distractions or worries.

My knowledge of Christmas traditions outside of religious and cultural ones, as well as what one does during the Holidays is limited, but that matters not. As long as I spend it with you, my time away from my work will be very well spent. I understand that I may not be the ideal person to celebrate the Holidays with, so no need to worry if you do not wish to spend the entirety of your break with me. Even if it is just minutes, I will and I do hold every moment I spend with you very close to my heart.

From what I have heard, Rhodes Island is also offering a Holiday break to its employees. I will never force you to do anything, but I hope you will accept the offer. Of course, you do not have to use your break to celebrate the Holidays if you do not wish to; in your case [name], I believe that any free days you get should be used to rest if nothing else. I tell you this very often, but rest is necessary, love. You mean very much to me, so please take care of yourself.

People give each other gifts on the Holidays as a sign of appreciation, is that correct? So it was only appropriate that I gave you something for Christmas. My research told me that jewelry or clothing are ideal gifts for your lover, but I do not agree; purchasing a store-bought gift felt empty to me. I wanted my gift to you to express my fondness toward you, and a gift from a store is simply unable to encapsulate that. Because of that, I made the decision to hand-make one. Gifts are meant to be unexpected, a surprise; but I apologize for not asking if you wanted one beforehand. I ask that you please accept it regardless.

As of writing this, I have just sent a notice to the Notarial Hall informing them that I will be away for the Holidays. When my break begins, I plan on spending most of my time with you. If you take Christmastime off as well, we should choose something to do to celebrate the Holidays; but if not, I have no problem assisting you with your work.

[Name] - this warmth, the way my heartbeat quickens and I cannot restrain my smile whenever you are with me; even now, what I feel towards you is something I have trouble understanding and putting into words. It is a feeling I can only describe as love. And as such, the best way I can express what I feel is this: I love you. Everyday from this point onward, I promise I will love you to the best of my ability.

Please look after yourself, love.

Executor

--------------------

Though you’re standing on your own two feet when you read the letter, as it comes to its conclusion your whole body feels airy and a floating sensation fills you at the sincerity in Executor’s words.

Everyone else around the both of you saw him as a coldhearted robot who lacked any emotions, but Executor was not what he seemed - or maybe you’re the only one who thought that way because he reserved his warmth for you. Regardless, you adore him in a way you can't describe; unbeknownst to him, he makes you feel the most loved you have ever felt, and for that, you silently swear to yourself that you will always be at his side.

Your eyes search around for the aforementioned gift Executor had spoken about in his letter, and your eyes fall back to your desk, where you notice something circular wrapped in white cellophane sat atop your papers. The shiny cellophane is opaque, wrapping around the gift and bunching at the top, where a red ribbon holds it together. You lift a brow; from the shape of the gift, you're unable to immediately discern what it is.

Curious, you carefully undo the ribbon and pull away the cellophane wrapping; as the gift is revealed, your eyes go slightly wide and your lips fall agape.

Sat on a thin cake board is a traditional angel food cake, with its hollow center decorated with an assortment of colorful berries. The icing sugar covering its surface reminds you of snow, and a mouthwatering sweet smell from the cake glides your way after you remove it from the cellophane wrapping.

Restorting to using a tissue from the box on your desk as a makeshift glove to avoid touching it with your bare hands, you take a small piece of the cake from off its side; you’re beyond amazed at the sweet taste, cloudy taste that fills your mouth as you eat the small bite of cake.

You recall what Executor had mentioned in his letter to you - ‘And so, I made the decision to hand make one’ - he had made the cake himself. Your eyes fill with awe, rarely did the Rhodes Island cafeteria offer sweets such as the one you had in front of you, and at the fact that Executor had taken his time to bake you something for Christmas makes your heart explode with warmth.

Just as you’re about to take another piece off of the cake, your eyes notice a tag hanging off the ribbon that was previously holding the wrapping together. Placing the oh-so-tempting cake aside for now, you focus your attention to the handwritten note that’s on the paper tag, ‘Merry Christmas, love. As someone born in Laterano, I understand the basis of baking, but I have not put said skills to practice in a very long time, nor have I ever baked something for someone else. While homemade angel food cake is not a feat deserving of a standing ovation, I hope you enjoy it. If you would like, perhaps I can teach you how to make it during the Holidays.’

His words make you pause, and a smile comes to your face. After a few moments, you put your tissue away and wrap the cake back up; it’s like they say - some things are better enjoyed with someone you love, and after reading the last line of his note, you decide you’ll wait for Executor. ‘[Name], while I understand a gift like this is not permanent or long lasting, my feelings toward you are. Even if I may not do it in the best way, even if I find it hard to understand; as long as I am able to, I will love you. That is my vow to you.’

For decades, authors Margaret Atwood and her late partner Graeme Gibson were a power couple of Canadian literature. Despite his wide-ranging influence, Gibson struggled to sell publishers on an unusual book he envisioned—a massive scrapbook of art and writings about birds in history and culture. “He had the idea for The Bedside Book of Birds ten years before the book actually got published,” says Atwood, the award-winning speculative fiction novelist, as well as a birder, conservationist, and poet.

The Bedside Book of Birds, eventually released in 2005, was Gibson’s love letter to the deep relationships between humans and birds. In the compendium, birds provide hope, insight, and companionship but also portend sinister omens. Its contents span continents and centuries, from Aristotle and an Aztec eagle warrior to T.S. Eliot and Haruki Murakami. The book was a hit at the time, says Atwood, and now it's being reprinted by Penguin Random House to be released in stores on March 30.

Gibson never lost his delight in birds, she says, even up to his death in 2019 at age 85. Audubon spoke to Atwood, who wrote a new forward to the book, about the story of this unusual work and the couple’s shared birding life.

Audubon: How did this unique book come about?

Margaret Atwood: Graeme was a convert to birdwatching when he was probably about 36, and he became very keen on it. He palled up with some expert birders and was very interested in taking groups to Cuba, which I think has 25 endemics including the Bee Hummingbird—the smallest hummingbird in the world. We did [birding trips] for a number of years, and then we became connected with BirdLife International. During this time he was also collecting. He was collecting bird images, bird stories, people's experiences with birds, and bird mythology. He had the idea for putting it into a miscellany, which was a favorite Victorian kind of book. A miscellany can include anything—a quote, an image of a statue, a tidbit of a story, a piece of folklore, scientists' writings, a travel adventure, anything. It was a process of elimination of what would go in and what had to come out. The Bedside Book of Birds could have been about five times as big as it was.

Audubon: Yes, there’s a lot in this rich book, covering the many ways that humans interact with birds. What are some of those themes?

Atwood: They cover the range. Not all experiences that people have had with birds have been positive, and not all of them have been positive for birds. In one place in the book, it's remarked that humanity gave the wings of birds to the angels but the claws to the devils. We have had things like Alfred Hitchcock's movie The Birds. Some people are afraid of birds, let's not discount that. And some birds had been seen as an element of doom. How many crows are supposed to be bad? I think it's three. And ravens have been associated with battlefields. In some cultures, they're called 'wolf birds' because they follow wolves and want some of whatever it is the wolf is going to kill—and they're smart enough to know that. Because they can’t open a carcass they will actually help wolves and humans hunt. Overhead, they can see over hills, and they will do that dip thing in their wings, like ‘this way, yoohoo, this way.’

Audubon: In the new forward you've written with this reissue, you mention that you and Graeme dressed up as the Norse god Odin’s pair of ravens for a costume party. I love that.

Atwood: Graeme picked Thought, and I picked Memory. He didn’t have a good memory, whereas I did.

Audubon: Some of the excerpts in the book are not entirely surprising—the Bible, Darwin, Greek mythology—but others are much lesser known. I was interested to see the mix of words and art that show how both Western and non-Western cultures relate to birds. How did he do research?

Atwood: We did a lot of traveling in those years. And some of the places were very big on bird imagery. Indeed, there was often folklore and mythology back through the years, and that's one of the things I'm also interested in. Of course, when we were traveling and when we were doing bird things, we would ask people wherever we were: ‘Got any good bird stories?’

Audubon: In the book, Graeme discusses the idea that birdwatchers can sometimes get lost in the act of checking a bird off their list, or even symbolically possessing a bird, as in the use of the birding phrase, “what birds did you get?’

Atwood: Yes, though it’s better than shooting them which is how people used to collect birds.

Audubon: How did you two approach birding then?

Atwood: We did do a trip list for places that we were going, especially if we were with a group of people. But we didn't do a life list. He was always more interested in watching the birds’ behavior than in checking it off the list. But we understand the collecting thing, too—it’s like stamp collecting in a way. It’s a different kind of pleasure.

Audubon: Have you been doing more birdwatching in this last pandemic year?

Atwood: I’ve been doing a lot of walking, but not specifically with that in view. When you’re birding, I think it’s better to be with other people who are doing the same thing. But I hope to be able to be with some like-minded people, possibly in May. We threw together a Pelee Island Bird Observatory and Pelee Island Heritage Center Springsong event online last year, and we're doing the same this year. It will be May 8.

Audubon: With the pandemic, this reissue is being published in a very different moment than it was originally. Do you think the book will hit differently now?  

Atwood: Well everything is hitting in a different way. I think we've seen a big uptick in people's appreciation for natural space. Natural spaces have been places that people could go into—and that weren't their cellar—where they could have some breathing space.

Audubon: In The Bedside Book of Birds, I was particularly moved by one piece, "Birds of the Western Front," from a writer named Saki, who died in World War I. He was writing about how the lives of birds went on amid all the death and destruction of the war. It reminded me a little bit of this year—how I think people have taken some solace in the lives of birds despite all the death and destruction now.

Atwood: Yes—not only are birds beautiful and cheerful, but they're ongoing. Like in the famous World War I poem In Flanders Field, one of the things that people who were in the trenches noticed was that the meadowlarks were still doing their thing despite all of the carnage that was going on around them.

The Three Caballeros at 34

A review by Adam D. Jaspering

Mickey Mouse is, and always has been, the face of the Walt Disney Corporation. Perhaps it’s because of legacy or favoritism, because Donald Duck has often proven himself more popular. To expand on a quote from Walt Disney, it all started with a mouse, but a duck pays the bills. Never was this more apparent than in the 1940s.

As morbid as it seems, World War II was a great boon to Donald Duck’s popularity. Mickey Mouse represented an unflappable, upbeat everyman. He became popular during the Great Depression when people needed their morale lifted. Donald Duck was an angry fighter who got knocked down, and stood right back up, fists swinging. That sensibility was celebrated by many during the war. Seeing the influence he had, Walt Disney capitalized on his creation.

Donald was commissioned by many sources during World War II. The US Treasury, the United Way, and the Canadian Film Board all commissioned cartoons from Disney Studios. His likeness was merchandised in countless other places. Within months, Donald Duck was promoting war bonds and celebrating American resilience coast to coast.

Later, Donald joined the US Army, encouraging enlistment. As an act of patriotism, Disney produced seven of these shorts at cost for the armed forces. Why he opted for Donald to join the Army as opposed to the Navy, as is often suggested by his sailor outfit, is a mystery. Donald wasn’t the official face of the war effort, but not for lack of trying.

In 1944, three separate events lined up. First, World War II was still ongoing.  Second, Disney Studios was celebrating Donald’s tenth anniversary. Third, the follow-up to Saludos Amigos was nearing completion. It was time for another cinematic saga of comradery in the western hemisphere, this time featuring Donald Duck front and center.

Saludos Amigos was a rush job. Disney Studios churned it out for immediate financial returns. The writers and animators had unused ideas leftover. Some ideas were more dynamic and required money and time, not available in 1941. Now with a foot-hold on the Latin American film market, the studio was able to make a proper follow-up. That was The Three Caballeros.

The Three Caballeros uses the 10th anniversary of Donald Duck’s creation as a framing device. Throughout the film, Donald opens a multitude of gifts from friends and well-wishers. Each gift prompts or frames a new vignette. Like Saludos Amigos, the vignettes of The Three Caballeros were created to foster international goodwill between Latin America and the United States.

The first gift is a projector and film canister. The movie is The Cold-Blooded Penguin. It features a penguin named Pablo who dislikes living in Antarctica. Pablo hates the cold, and wishes to live in a tropical climate. One day, he pools his resources, and sets out on an ice floe for warmer weather.

Astute readers will notice the error immediately. What on Earth is a cartoon about a penguin doing in a film about Latin America?

It’s true, Pablo’s journey takes him around some of the coastal geographic features of South America’s west coast. These aren’t so much landmarks as name drops. We hear the narrator mention the Straits of Magellan, Cape Horn, Juan Fernandez Islands, Vina Del Mar, Lima, and the Galapagos Islands. But what’s depicted onscreen are rather nondescript landforms. These could be any straits, any coasts, and any islands.

The Cold-Blooded Penguin’s ties to South America are incredibly tenuous. Plainly, it does not belong as part of the film. So much so, it’s not even worth commenting on the animation or story. You could make the greatest rotisserie chicken in culinary history, but if you serve it atop an ice cream sundae, no one will care how the chicken tastes. 

The short shamelessly tries to mask itself as an extended cutaway from a larger feature called “Aves Raras,” or “Rare Birds.” The non-penguin half of this short does indeed focus on the indigenous fauna of South America. Somewhat farcically, but also with an informative nugget. This infotainment is what The Three Caballeros aspires to be, and achieves in certain quantities. 

Unfortunately, the filmmakers either get lazy or distracted. Strewn among the cultural aspects are nonsense and unsupportive jokes. Either the filmmakers were padding the film or afraid of losing the attention of a younger audience. The end result bogs down quality with unnecessary jetsam.

The highlight of the Rare Birds segment is the Aracuan Bird. This bird has a high-pitched, sped-up voice, and a warbled laugh. He has a screwball sense of humor, and an innate ability to antagonize all those who he comes into contact with. He has a bright red crest, a yellow beak, and oversized eyes. He debuted four years after another cartoon bird with alarmingly similar characteristics: Woody Woodpecker.

Woody Woodpecker first appeared in the 1940 short Knock Knock. Walter Lantz created the character, and licensed him to Universal Studios. The similarities between The Aracuan Bird and Woody cannot be ignored. I can find no information explaining this coincidence. There were no complaints filed, and no legal action by Lantz or Universal. It’s rather unlikely Disney’s animators resorted to plagiarism; we can only assume it was an unintentional, subconscious reproduction.

The Aracuan Bird appears here, and in two more brief scenes. He then disappears for the remainder of the film. One would think he would be a running gag, appearing regularly throughout the movie. Or at the very least, he would be a main feature in his own vignette, his other appearances being callbacks. He would certainly be more on-theme than The Cold-Blooded Penguin. 

The Aracuan Bird is an unpleasant reminder that The Three Caballeros was a pile of ideas leftover from Saludos Amigos. He is introduced, then subsequently forgotten. The movie was the production of different animators and writers, working independently. They each had their own ideas, and didn’t seek consultation. These ideas are threaded together as best as possible, but big gaps in style and substance exist.

The next vignette is The Flying Gauchito, set in the pampas of Uruguay. It is the story of a child, looking for the approval of the gauchos of his village. The boy goes on a hunting expedition, finding the rarest game of all: a winged donkey. 

The donkey is named ‘Burrito,’ the Spanish word ‘Little Donkey’ (which existed long before the popular Tex-Mex dish). Gauchito returns home with his newly acquired winged steed. Rather than show him off, Burrito is entered in a horse race. It’s one thing to show-off your luck. It’s another thing to demonstrate your worth.

What makes The Flying Gauchito special isn’t its story. Will and determination overcoming the established norms is a common moral. The true strength of the short is its utilization of an unreliable narrator. Gauchito’s journey is narrated by his older self, narrating from an omniscient standpoint in the future. It would be easy for him to tell the story accurately. Instead, he’s forgetful, indecisive, and admittedly unsure of specific details. 

This narrative style creates not only a humorous structure, but humorous accompanying animation. Whenever a detail is “corrected” or second-guessed, the corresponding imagery is swapped out. In quick succession, the characters onscreen are left helpless as their world is ad hoc corrected. They must endure a shifting landscape and environment before they can react accordingly. This gives them a sense of instability, like they’re wearing roller skates, or walking a tightrope. It’s an advanced narrative technique, and it’s executed well.

With two and a half shorts finished, Donald Duck moves onto his next present. Inside is his friend and Saludos Amigos costar Jose Carioca. Jose is just as jovial and passionate as ever, but now smoking a giant cigar shamelessly for all children to see. We’re a long way from the warnings of Pleasure Island.

Jose introduces Donald to the Brazilian city of Baia. In a combined mood of nostalgia and admiration, Jose begins a long musical serenade. As his memories and thoughts are manifest to reality, we are swept away in the romantic imagery. The pinks and purples of the city at sunset are wonderfully done.

The two avian friends find themselves at a celebration on the streets of Baia. They’re joined by singer and dancer Aurora Miranda, plus a small army of samba dancers. The interplay of cartoon and human is outdated by today’s standards, but to an audience in 1944, it must have seemed groundbreaking. The technique is used extensively throughout the remainder of The Three Caballeros, and to great effect. It’s a gimmick, but a gimmick employed and accomplished well.

Exiting the glory of Baia, Donald opens his next gift from a stranger in Mexico. The unfamiliarity is temporary. Inside the gift is the loud, ecstatic, pistol-packing Panchito Pistoles. This firebrand is so eager to meet both Donald and Jose, he declares the trio “The Three Caballeros.” Finally, forty minutes into the picture, well past the halfway mark, we meet the last of our title characters.

After a fiery song and dance number, Panchito introduces Donald to the piñata. Panchito identifies it as a Mexican Christmas tradition (The Three Caballeros was scheduled for a December release date). Until this point, Panchito has been a quite vocal and boisterous individual. Hearing him tell a reverent and humble tale of Christmas tradition displays his hidden depths. Panchito could have been a shallow and one-note character. Instead, we see him capable of many things.

Cracking open the piñata, Donald is treated to a tour of Mexico’s most popular sights. Panchito summons a serape, which flies like Aladdin’s magic carpet. The Three Caballeros visit the exotic locales of  Pátzcuaro, Veracruz, and Acapulco. 

Until this point, both Donald and Jose were nothing more than enthusiastic partygoers. They enjoyed the celebrations and sights of their destinations. And they never shied away from the pleasant company of a gorgeous woman. For whatever reason, upon visiting Mexico, something stirs in the mind of Donald. 

Going forwards, every woman Donald encounters is an object of lustful desire. Singing girls, dancing girls, sunbathing girls; Donald wants them all. Jose and Panchito do their best to subtly remind Donald he is a cartoon duck in a G-Rated movie, but Donald is driven by his id. 

It’s a common cartoon trope for a character to be so blindsided by a woman’s physical attraction, they lose control. From the works of pre-Hays Code Betty Boop shorts, to the then-contemporary Tex Avery, it was a well-established joke. Donald, however, is completely insatiable and unstoppable. It starts funny, gets ridiculous, and then turns downright disturbing. Donald Duck is insatiably in love with these Latin beauties, and cannot be tamed. It’s a running gag that runs far too long. Panchito shouldn’t have shown Donald a hot beach, he should have shown him a cold shower.

The movie ends in quite an interesting way. Instead of a traditional song and dance number celebrating Mexico, the remaining twenty minutes of film is a surreal, avant garde display. More than ‘Toccata and Fugue’ from Fantasia. More than ‘Pink Elephants on Parade’ from Dumbo. Things are odd, formless, wild, and baffling. And lots of fun.

The Three Caballeros’s primary problem is how unbalanced it is. Any ten minute stretch is vastly different from any other. But it is unbalanced in a linear fashion. As the movie progresses, it becomes more cohesive and more audacious. Things are always building towards the (literally) explosive climax.

It begins with one short that doesn’t belong in the film at all. It moves onto a second short that, while more appropriate, could easily be excised. Jose is introduced, giving the movie more structure and narrative harmony. With him, more advanced animation techniques are employed. Panchito is introduced, giving the film a solid shape and definition. Finally, we’re treated to a grand tour de force. Disney’s animators use every trick to deliver a mindboggling trip for the eyes and ears.

The Three Caballeros as a group existed as Disney second-stringers for many years. Donald Duck remained as popular as ever, but it was rare to see Jose or Panchito acknowledged by the studio. Early in the 21st century, the cult popularity of the film prompted a resurgence for the forgone trio.

The Three Caballeros are featured at the Mexican Pavilion of Epcot Center (despite only one of the three members being Mexican). Don Rosa wrote two sequels for the trio, published in comic form. They’ve appeared in Disney television shows, such as House of Mouse, and 2017′s DuckTales. They even star in their own series on Disney+, where they become globetrotting fantasy heroes.

The Three Caballeros expands on the ideas of its predecessor, Saludos Amigos. A multitude of animation techniques continues the celebration of harmony in the Americas. Music, laughter, and a love of exploration unite us all. While the end result is something of a mixed bag, the highs are demonstrably high. It will stimulate some viewers while outright confounding others. But in the end, the wild, surreal adventure is a voyage worth taking. Hasta luego.

Fantasia Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs Pinocchio Bambi The Three Caballeros Dumbo Saludos Amigos

~Roses of the Dawn~

«In this alternative story, Margaery Tyrell is a noblewoman who, from the age of seven, was sent to serve Princess Daenerys Targaryen as her lady-in-waiting and become her playmate. But they became more than that, going as far as becoming the sisters they never had within their own families. 

That way, Margaery grows close to Daenerys and remains in her retinue of ladies, especially after she married Prince Rhaegar. However, with Robert Baratheon's rebellion and the uncertaintity of Rhaegar's death, Daenerys is forced to flee to the Free Cities, specifically to Essos, and Margaery with no second thoughts decides to accompany her mistress and friend to the forced exile in spite of herself. 

There also comes with them Rhaegar's closest friend who also happened to become a King's Guard. Ser Arthur Dayne thus makes sure that the depart of the apparently last Targaryen princess is successful, for his friend and lord who was supposed to be the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms told him that he should first and foremost protect the princess, his wife.» 

--

Essos, the Green House.

It's been a long year for the loyalists, Margaery knew it well. She remembers bitterly of the long days spent at a glorious court where she was the center of every poet's ballad and every courtier's eyes. She remembers how richly she used to dress, how fancied she used to be. The endless flirtatious, the dances until late of night, the strolls in beautiful gardens…All of which seems to be part of a world that is now ruined by the war-axe of Robert Baratheon. Her grandmother tried to persuade her to go back and marry him, becoming queen herself, but alas! Would it be worthy to so easily swift loyalties? 

One should always do whatever it takes to survive, even if it must to play these games of thrones, would say the Queen of Thorns. But Margaery would not become Queen at the cust of Daenerys Targaryen, who needed her the most at such a perilous time. Thus she declined to make it true the dreams of building a family of her own. A regret that she would not carry to her conscience, however, seeing whom Robert Baratheon managed to become as the new usurping king of Westeros: a whoring and drunkeous lad with a crown over his head. Rumour has it that he loved Lyanna Stark, the reason why he waged a war against the Targaryens. Margaery wondered if Dany was aware of it, but she decided this was a matter where she should not speak of it.

She sighs in thought. That day, she was spending her leisure moment in the gardens of the house of one of the Braavosi men who was living for his own reasons in Essos. He had been an ally to the Targaryens and was formerly contacted by Rhaegar when he sensed the Rebellion was more deadly than it appeared to be.

The man, named Asouri, was kind enough but Margaery could tell he was uncomfortable for receiving such persons in his household. Robert Baratheon likely knew it too, and it was only a matter of time before he sent someone out there to kill them all… A risk that Asouri reasonably feared. But it was thanks to the gold of Margaery's family that was paying his silence and granting his loyalty. Discreetly, and in concord to the Martells of Dorne, that was how she was surviving… She and the Princess who was more than a mistress to whom she owes obedience, but a reliable friend.

In such thoughts was Margaery, who decided to let her auburn curls fall loose for an instance. Essos was very warm, so that day she was dressing a green gown with no sleeves and very loose from her belly down to her legs. She decided to have some time for herself whilst Daenerys had her own business to attend. In contemplative mood, she did not see Arthur Dayne coming.

The bearer of the Sword of the Morning and the most skilled Knight of the whole Seven Kingdoms, Ser Arthur of the House Dayne was accepted into the King's Guard when in earlier days Elia Martell was betrothed to Prince Rhaegar. There were festivities and when the Dornish were received in the capital, one of the greatest honours was bestowed to such a man who, ever since from Starfall, had been keeping up with his chivalrous reputation. However, from the days of exile, Ser Arthur had been more discreet and certainly doing what he can to help the princess.

On that particular morning, however, he was making the usual round of the household to make sure there would be no enemies found sneaking at the backyard as it sadly happened in the first months of their arrival… or when Daenerys was close to be poisoned at the local market. It was when then Arthur noticed Margaery. He was well acquainted with the Princess's favourite lady-in-waiting, whose friend remained loyal to the Targaryens and kept sending gold, cloth and food whenever it was possible. He also knew her merry, talkative moods. Admittedly, though, he's been observing her more than he would care to admit.

These moods had been swifting, however, and that brought a concern to himself. But because he does not know how to approach her when she is not speaking to him, he usually prefers to be in his own place. Aye, they were both highborns, but an oath prevented Arthur for taking further steps.

Yet, on that particular morning, there was Margaery, beautiful in her green gown and contemplative. Starting at the sea, certainly missing her home. Arthur was observing the auburn curls that dropped loose against her porcelain skin, wondering how soft must it be to touch her… And whilst such unprogrammed thought crosses his mind, a blush runs out of nowhere over his features, which by misfortune is perceived by the aforementioned damsel, who, noticing his presence, exclaimed somewhat amused:

"Ser Arthur! What is it that could be making you blush?" She waves gleefully, a warm smile lightening her features. Such scene gives Arthur's unexplainable chills.

He approached and bows his head as costume dictates.

"My lady, I fear you might have confused it with a tun. How could it be otherwise when I've been daily exposed to this sun?" He laughs at himself. "Has it not occurred you how hotter this is than our homeland?"

Margaery is not convinced, but she is not in the mood to persuade him otherwise. 

"Is it hotter than Dorne, though?" She inquires, her head tilting to the right side, her chocolate eyes filled with curiosity.

Arthur steps forward again, but not daring to take a seat next to her side.

"It is, I think. A different kind of heat. Although Starfall is not any like Sunspear", he laughs.

Margaery smiles. She likes the sound of his laughter, and appreciates his undying chivalric loyalty to the Targaryens. She also happens to notice how introspective is the sound of the words of Arthur. How shy his gaze can be when running out of her decisive eyes. To perceive this makes her blush, but she turns her look away briefly, so he does not notice it.

"Do you miss it?" She inquires gently, her thoughts going back to High Garden.

Arthur looks deep into her eyes, for a moment they share a long gaze, a very significant one because they share the same sentiments. Sentiments that were stolen by the Baratheon who unjustly rules Seven Kingdoms who are not his by right.

"Aye. Every now and then. But duty comes first above all", says he, resignated. Margaery, to her own surprise, finds herself saddned by these words.

"I agree", and before she holds her tongue, word roll out. "Some might even say that duty is the death of love."

Arthur is stunned at her words, and wishes he could counter-say that, but before he could say anything, comes Ser Jorah Mormont inquiring after them both.

*                                   *                            *

Margaery knows her mistress has been melancholic as of late, although good news--as both ignored--are on the way (which will be most propriatedly exposed in another story), she decides to cheer her up. In order to sweep away the thoughts that more than lately have been carrying herself to Arthur Dayne, she occupies herself with a small festivity.

"Marg, I don't think it's a good Idea" said Dany. "We rely too much on your family to cover the custs of this stay, but…"

"That's not the point", Margaery gently cut her off. "You have been too sad these days, reasonably so, but people cannot forget that a Targaryens remains alive."

Dany, despite the good heart of her dearest Margaery, is hesitant to agree.

"That is how we become a target, Marg."

"Did you not attract one in the market? We cannot hid forever, Dany. There is good cause to celebrate, is there not?"

Dany is six months pregnant of Rhaegar, but she barely had time to share the news joyfully due the circumnstances that forced her to go to Essos. Despite the lack of news on the part of Conningham about Rhaegar’s state, she knows life cannot hold for long. Looking right into her friend’s eyes, Dany finds in Margaery the hope that she had thought long abandoned her own. In them, she is reminded of life and hopes. So there is going to be a feast, after all. 

It does not escape Arthur’s own eyes the swift in Margaery’s mood and it makes him smile to himself. For it’s long been gone ever since the royal household held some festivity of the sort and it’s good to see the ladies warming their hopes, in spite of all. He, for once, finds himself very captivated by the lady’s spirits and every now and then he is encouraged by Margaery’s own gaze never to run off from her own.

The day of the feast finally arrives, though, and the once captain of the King’s Guard and close friend to Prince Rhaegar is found looking for the princess’s confidante and lady-in-waiting. But there is not too much for the waiting, however, and soon a sweet voice reaches his ear:

“Looking for someone, my lord?”

It’s a new sensation to feel it within, and Arthur is not quite sure how to react. He turns his head slowly, his heart pounding against his chest, only to find Margaery Tyrell and her auburn locks before him in a beautiful dark-blue silk gown. On her part, she cannot help herself admiring the tall, elegant and tanned-skin Dornish male, whose chivalric ideals reminds her of the stories she spent her childhood reading. Although advised by Dany of her involvement with a man as Arthur, who was linked with his vows through the fact he’s now the Captain of the Princess’s Guard, Margaery’s heart has long decided which road to follow. 

“Not entirely, my lady”, he lies, rather unsure how to behave before her forwardness. Even so, a smile gives in amidst the shade of pride that conceals his true feelings. “I was merely around.”

“Oh.” Margaery could not hold back the disappointment. Once used to be very admired by all men, she feels her heart pounding... and not in a very happy tune. But she is quick in hidding it, though not enough to go unnoticed by the Dornish male. “I see. Is the feast of your liking?”

Trying to amend things, although quite awkwardly, he says:

“I am not one of feasts, I’m afraid, but it’s very enjoyable to see a smile set on the princess’s face. Hope is returning and all of this scenario reassures it.”

“I could not agree more. She has to have her moods lift up, so the baby can come properly”, says Margaery, sensing there’s no particularly way to flirt, but nonetheless wishing to remain in his company. “If a boy comes, do you think he’ll take the grandfather’s name?”

Before he could hold back his tongue, so says Arthur:

“By the Seven, I hope not. I mean...”

Margaery chuckles and leans almost unconsciously against his arm, her soft hand patting his shoulder gently. Arthur, in turn, breathes the smell of roses that, should not surprise him, is so typical of a Tyrell as herself. It also gives another warm sentiment that a man like him is not used to feel. He shifts uncomfortably.

“I understand what you mean, there is no need to concern yourself, Arthur. We are friends, are we not? Loyalists, as some would call.” She says confidently, but only to mask the hurt she noticed when he took a slight away from her. 

“Aye.” He smiles, but very timidly. And the moment ends when the door opens only to announce the arrival... of the prince himself. Rhaegar Targaryen /is/ alive, after all.

*                                                                 *                                                  ��      *

There is preparation to move out of Essos, maybe going to Braavos. The destination is uncertain, but Daenerys, as Margaery observes, regains confidence with the return of Prince Rhaegar, who now styles himself King Rhaegar. Daenerys is now Queen.

But in the midst of such gleeful moment, a tragedy occurs. Mercenaries sent on the orders of King Robert attempted to assassinate the princess... ignoring the fate of Rhaegar. In the midst of the chaos that comes from it, there is the prince and his men (or some of them anyway) prompted to defend themselves and the princess. However, as a result, a violent fire rises. 

Margaery is in the princess’s chambers, who is refusing to leave because of the eggs of the dragons, trying to convince her to leave when the next moments happen too fast. Arthur comes to her rescue and so comes Rhaegar after Daenerys. For some reason, though, Daenerys remains behind. Margaery does not remember quite well, for she had lost her conscience due by inhaling smoke. 

*                                                               *                                                     *

There is a new scenario that is rising hopes. Margaery, to her joy, is glad to be there to see in first hand. However, as promised to Dany, no word of the dragons that came out of the fire would reach even the allies that await in Westeros. Despite the miscarriage, the legend of the Targaryen ancestors seems to relive. Daenerys, even Rhaegar could tell, is no longer the young princess whom he married three years ago. She is now a woman, a queen, his equal, his partner. His lover. 

In the meantime, Margaery is saddened by the new distance between herself and Arthur. She wonders whether she should question him about it, but decides otherwise and shield her heart. Yet, by the time she is Braavos with the small court, when Dany and Rhaegar are sleeping, she escapes to the outdoors for a brief time only to play the lute. Thinking to be alone, she sings:

“No merriment in the world

Can warm the cold

Brought upon the damsel’s heart with a sword

By a knight who left with no word.

Could every smile conceal the pain,

Then shall my eyes tell no longer the same

Of the soul this knight took joy as he came

Yet to the mundane 

Is where he might remain.

For duty, it is known, 

When set the love upon

Causes immediate death

Of what may have been sown...”

“I wonder who might be the terrible knight who broke the damsel’s heart”, says Arthur, who, ever since the fire day, despite the distance he took from her for the sake of himself, remained attentive to her ways. But when the lullaby reached him, something... changed.

Unused to be caught off guard, Margaery’s cheeks bright in red as a result. She, however, does not look away and says:

“Oh well, must we speak of it?” She laughs, trying to dismiss the subject and recollecting the lute. “It is late and I should be off to my chambers, but...”

“...she is occupied with her wifely duties”, he smiles weakly. “I came here to talk to you about how unfair I have been to you. I should have not been so rude, but there is a reason for it.”

In other days, Margaery would have aquiesced and listened eagerly for the words to be spoken of his part, but she, by now, is not prompted to it. Not anymore. 

“You are forgiven for whatever you have done, my lord. I should go to bed”, she insists, now looking down as she tries to make her way.

But he does not let her. Not anymore. So Arthur very gently turns her at him and says:

“I love you.”

Margaery, far from expecting to hear what she heard, could not keep the mask at her face anymore. She places the instrument somewhere aside and stares at Arthur in complete astonishment.

“Arthur, what are you saying?”

“I... I’ve never loved a woman as much as I love you”, he professes such words with a passion that to him would one day sound absurd, but he cannot wait for more time to pass and colect any more regrets. “I’ve taken the vow seriously for all my life, and yet, your smile, your manners, your eyes... Make me down on my knees and pledge to make another vow to you.”

Margaery’s eyes begin to tear, her eyes barely blinking when encountering the purple eyes of Arthur. Her heart amends, she can tell, but even so...

“You cannot be serious. I would not wish you to break your oath.”

“I’ve been released from it. Even if I were not, for you I’d do it myself.” He speaks so intensely his chest seems burning inside. “Be mine, lady Margaery. For you I give ardently my love and devotion.”

He would not have to ask any longer. Margaery could not refuse him, her love for him is too high to pay the price for a foolish pride. She leans towards him, then, and presses her full lips against him. As if breathing relieved, Arthur places his arms around her and kisses her in turn passionately so. 

*                                                             *                                                             *

Posface: years later.

Margaery Dayne, lady of the Reach and of Starfall, was greatly rewarded for her services by Queen Daenerys and King Rhaegar after years of loyalty, which she continuously displayed throughout her life by the side of the man she loved. She and Arthur had ten children, of whom only one did not reach adulthood. These were their names: Arthur, Loras, Daella, Ashara, Rhaegal, Leo, Luthor, Maya, Jeyne and John. 

All Aboard the Hardy Boys — Thoughts on: Last Train to Blue Moon Canyon (TRN)

Previous Metas: SCK/SCK2, STFD, MHM, TRT, FIN, SSH, DOG, CAR, DDI, SHA, CUR, CLK

Hello and welcome to a Nancy Drew meta series! 30 metas, 30 Nancy Drew Games that I’m comfortable with doing meta about. Hot takes, cold takes, and just Takes will abound, but one thing’s for sure: they’ll all be longer than I mean them to be.

Each meta will have different distinct sections: an Introduction, an exploration of the Title, an explanation of the Mystery, a run-through of the Suspects. Then, I’ll tackle some of my favorite and least favorite things about the game, and finish it off with ideas on how to improve it. 

There will be an additional section between The Intro and The Title on the Nancy Drew/Hardy Boys Supermysteries, as this game is the first to pull from them and because the game (and the Hardy Boys) benefit from exploring and understanding that universe.

If any game requires an extra section or two, they’ll be listed in the paragraph above, along with links to previous metas.

These metas are not spoiler free, though I’ll list any games/media that they might spoil here: TRN, mention of ICE, mentions of WAC, mention of John Grey in SAW, SPY.

The Intro:

Yeah, I’m not sorry for that title.

Coming off a solid, in-joke heavy game like CLK, Last Train to Blue Moon Canyon could have been anything — and it rose to the occasion like few other games in the entire series. It was the unprecedented 13th game in a 12-game series, and boy did they start the next phase with a bang.

Our next jet-setting game, we leave 1930s Titusville behind in favor of the modern day — albeit the modern day inside a train from the late 1800s, staffed with every kind of celebrity from the 2000s — socialites, authors, tv personalities, and Miami-Vice-meets-Ice-T cops.

Honestly, had they included a teenybopper pop star, I would have said that this game wasn’t just an excellent game, but a time capsule for 2005.

This odd location for a game not only solidifies its place in the Jetsetting Games, it also behaves as a Locked Room Mystery, the first one in a while (FIN being the only other one so far). Nancy can’t leave the train until 2/3rds through the game — but neither can anyone else, resulting in not only the perfect place to commit a crime, but also the perfect place to interrogate suspects.

TRN is perhaps most famous for its on-screen appearance of the Hardy Boys, who invite Nancy with them on this invite-only trip to make it more fun for themselves (and so that HER could experiment with playing from a non-Nancy [and even better, a Frank] point of view, even if it is just to make cheeseburgers). Honestly, it should be famous for it. 

Not only is this a huge mechanics change, but it also blasts open the Nancy Drew Universe — the Drewniverse, if you will — and introduces both the games and players to the world of the 80s/90s Supermysteries by basing itself on #8 of the series, aptly titled Mystery Train (which we’ll talk about in the following section).

TRN also boasts one of the largest casts in the Nancy Drew games series, with 7 voiced in-person characters, two phone friends, and 3 extras. The choice to put in more characters into a smaller location really helps the locked room feel of the game, and leads to a game that is slightly more centered around interrogation than concrete investigation (which is the correct choice for a locked room mystery).

While TRN’s historical backstory isn’t quite prominent enough to get its own section here, it is worth dipping our toes in it here in the intro section. This game’s backstory (handled with a light hand) takes place during the late 1800s and finishes early years of the 1900s — 1903, to be exact, during the Edwardian Era and before World War I — when Jake Hurley’s beautiful train is found abandoned with only the dead engineer onboard. It overlaps with the Colorado Gold Rush in the United States, where Americans and immigrants alike made a mad dash out west in order to strike it rich.

This was a time when trains were the beautiful and incredibly fast (relatively) way to travel in America, especially out west as they were safer and quicker than taking the route in covered wagons or handcarts. Public trains were well-furnished and comfortable, but private trains like Jake Hurley’s were luxuriously and gorgeously decorated with all the amenities that were possible at the time and were meant to entertain guests as well as convey them from point A to point B.

The lush decorations in Camille and Jake’s cars are especially good representations of just how comfortable and flashy private trains could be; these trains that exist today in museums or private collections recall a bygone age where travel was a thing to look forward to, rather than a necessary evil to be suffered through.

The last bit of introduction I’ll do for TRN proper before we delve into the Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew supermysteries is its wonderful way with locations. By limiting its locations to really one at a time, TRN very neatly creates a semi-linear playthrough while still allowing the player the freedom to solve Jake and Camille’s mysteries in most any order they choose. It’s a great trick to make the game feel a bit more open while still telling a linear story, and TRN pulls it off better than most other early Nancy games.

Now that we’ve introduced the game, let’s get on to the Drewniverse.

The Supermysteries:

Pairing Nancy Drew actively with the Hardy Boys (live and in person) was hardly a new thing in 2005, even though it was the first time it had been accomplished in the game series’ history. The Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew TV series from the 70s was the first big screen meetup of the two sleuthing parties, both owned by the Stratmeyer Syndicate. 

While the earlier episodes of the show trade back and forth between Nancy and the boys, the second season saw increasingly frequent mashups of the two separate storylines, allowing for much bigger risks and much more satisfying stories — and, of course, the now famous love line between Nancy Drew and Frank Hardy.

After the TV show, there was now an uptick in Nancy/Hardy Boys interest — the two had become linked by more than just the Syndicate. That interest created the space for the 80s/90s series of books referred to as the Nancy Drew/Hardy Boys Supermysteries (not to be confused with the series of the same name that came out after the turn of the millennium, which are less flirty, less well-written, and much shorter as a series).

Wildly popular, the Supermysteries have 36 titles to their name and span over a decade of heart-racing, Nancy-tingling fun. The Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew are either assigned to sister cases or discover the other party on the same case, and take turns helping the other out. Often, Joe separates (sometimes with whatever party Nancy brings along or with a pretty suspect) and leaves Nancy and Frank to work in tandem, giving opportunities for the two sleuths to flirt (and sometimes more) in relative peace.

If there’s one thing that the Supermysteries are really famous for, however, it’s the relationship between Nancy and Frank. Seemingly every book starts with reminding us that Frank and Nancy both have “steadies” back home, to use Dave Gregory’s terminology, and then promptly describing Frank as an Adonis and setting Nancy’s “tingle” (80s/90s code for arousal) ablaze as they work in closer and closer quarters and have some Experiences together, including an on-screen kiss and a sexy fade-to-black — and then reluctantly going back to their boyfriend/girlfriend at the end of the book.

TRN is based specifically on parts of Supermystery #8, Mystery Train, where the Hardy Boys are lured in by the promise of $25k if they can find the Comstock Diamond, stolen 15 years earlier. Nancy happens to be on the same train, accompanied by the best of the best sleuths of the day — and a beautiful actress that catches Joe’s attention.

You can see the ties to TRN — a ‘beautiful’ socialite, a band of detectives and researchers, a lost treasure — all present in both the book and the game. Though the game takes a slightly different course, it owes its strong foundation to the Supermystery that proceeded it.

The Title:

Harking back to Supermystery #8 (Mystery Train), Last Train to Blue Moon Canyon is one of the finest titles that HER ever came up with. Appropriately pulpy, it gives a sense of urgency, history, and mystery all at once while still pointing to the focal point of the game: the train.

After playing the game, it’s also a little ironic — it might be the last train to Blue Moon Canyon, but it’ll hardly be the last visitor to the historic spot, once the world gets wind of exactly what was there and the history behind it.

Last Train to Blue Moon Canyon is honestly a much better title than Mystery Train, and the title (plus the wonderful cover art) is part of the reason that this game is so well-known among casual and hardcore fans alike.

The Mystery:

Summoned by her good (phone) friends the Hardy Boys, Nancy embarks on a train ride to Blue Moon Canyon, the last known location of wealthy eccentric Jake Hurley’s personal train, and rumored to be the spot where he left his treasure. The train having been purchased and restored by socialite Paris Hil — ah, I mean Lori Girard, it once again houses the notable travelers of the day…and possibly the spirit of Jake Hurley’s wife, Camille.

Not 10 minutes into their journey, Lori disappears with a scream and a crash, and the hunt is on — not only to find their missing hostess, but to unravel the secrets of Jake Hurley’s train, Camille’s ghost, and the treasure that may be hiding in Blue Moon Canyon. It won’t be an easy task even for three seasoned teen sleuths, not with a cagey wonder-cop, irritable historical romance writer, and techy ghost hunter all trying to keep their motivations and actions a mystery.

TRN is superb in most respects, so it shouldn’t come as any surprise that the mystery is 90% perfect — barring one unfortunate plot point, which I’ll cover in at least 3 sections below, and the next paragraph. Tightly paced with suspicion spread thickly and nigh-evenly, TRN doesn’t run into the trouble of knowing who the culprit is from the first 20 minutes of the game and doesn’t feel the need to clear one suspect earlier than the others so that they can help Nancy — Frank and Joe take that job instead, leaving a pretty clear field through most of the game.

The biggest problem with TRN is the identity of the “final” culprit — that is, the culprit who leaves Nancy behind in the crumbling mine in order to generate some good publicity for herself and who knows about Jake Hurley’s final “treasure” all along: Lori. Her reveal as the first culprit is wonderful and logical, even if it’s not too hard to figure out that she kidnapped herself. Her reveal as the second culprit, however, is so odd and against her character that it doesn’t just feel like a mistake — it actually reads as a mistake as well.

To have the entire game culminate in a culprit that 1) doesn’t make any sense to be the culprit and 2) must behave in a completely out-of-character way in order to be the culprit is the one black mark on TRN’s otherwise spotless record. Other than that, this mystery is one of the best of the series so far and is a fully enjoyable ride from start to almost-finish.

The Suspects:

Lori Girard, Paris-Hilton-expy and socialite extraordinaire, is the hostess of the little trip down to Blue Moon Canyon with a streak of ruthless camera-whoring that nearly matches the level of the other camera whore on board (see next suspect).

Lori is, rather gloriously, the first culprit — the one who kidnapped herself, showing her love for flair, her smarts, and her enjoyment of detective stories. Kidnapping herself is right along with the character we see she has, and makes so much sense that it doesn’t feel like a let-down that the player (and a few other characters) figure it out — rather, it feels like her character is introduced strongly and well.

Lori is, completely unbelievably, the second culprit as well. Lori’s previous stunts — i.e. her previous ‘kidnapping’ before the story begins, the train disappearance — involve herself, have no danger to them at all, are intensely theatrical, and rely on the willing cooperation of others. Trapping Nancy in the mine and trying to kill her doesn’t involve Lori at all, has a ton of danger (not to mention a death toll), and isn’t theatrical at all — it happens all ‘off camera’.

We’ll get to more problems with this in The Unfavorite, but making Lori the second culprit was a huge mistake, and her character — and the game — suffer from it.

Tony Balducci is a self-described wonder cop and sometime lover of Lori who wants nothing more than to toot his own horn…provided he leaves out some of the less flattering notes. Having caught two bank robbers by luckily being in the right place at the right time, Tony now tries to live up to the name of ace detective — mainly by being a giant douchebag towards everyone.

As a culprit, Tony would have been an interesting choice, as someone driven by the hanging spectre of his own ego, desperately trying to catch it while knowing deep down that he’s just not good enough to do so. He’s just a little too obvious, a little too hateable, and a little too in-your-face to be the proper culprit for this game.

He instead lives to fight another day to show up in ICE, where no one asked for nor wanted him. A douche to the end.

Charleena Purcell of Secret of Shadow Ranch fame is live and in person this time, having accepted Lori’s invitation out of curiosity for what really happened to Jake — and a bit of a guilty conscience.

As a reoccurring character, Charleena wasn’t going to be the culprit, but I do love that she’s a character who does some morally questionable things — like taking Lori’s suggestions for a new book and incorporating them without crediting Lori. While legally she’s fine, it is a total dick move, and she deserves to get reamed for it.

I love that Charleena’s a bit uptight and snappy while still being a ‘good guy’ (or at least not a baddie), and I do love that she did something wrong that has no impact on the actual crime at all. While she’s not in my top 5 of reoccurring characters/characters that appear in more than one game, she is a nice representation of what most authors are like (dedicated researchers and hard workers, not people who have wacky hijinks with the mystical people in their head that talk to them).

John Grey is a ghost hunter who relies more on tech than on spiritual intuition and hosts his own TV show dedicated to proving the existence of ghosts and spirits. He’s convinced — or rather really hoping — that he can prove the existence of Camille’s ghost and attribute her power to all the wacky things happening on the train.

He also really hates it when Nancy plays the piano around his sensitive audio equipment, which is the biggest reason to play the piano around his sensitive audio equipment that I can think of.

Heartbreakingly, John is the perfect culprit; he lies just under the radar enough not to be immediately obvious, but isn’t immediately discounted either. He also has the perfect motivation: with his show failing, he really needs a show-stopping apparition like Camille’s ghost to boost his ratings and save his show. He’d be an Abby Sideris-type culprit Writ Large, but this time he’d be manipulating people’s perceptions of an actual ghost that truly exists on the train.

John’s status as, frankly, no villain at all is the single biggest flaw in TRN, and it makes me sad every time I play it.

Listed officially as a suspect, Fatima of Copper Gorge is a Charleena fangirl and taffy enthusiast, with a temper as wide as Copper Gorge itself. She constantly wears an old-timey miner’s costume — foam head mask and all — and can apparently even sleep in it.

As a culprit, Fatima would have obviously been a poor choice for a Nancy Drew style game — she barely appears, and is there for a puzzle and a task and that’s pretty much it. She is however incredibly intriguing, as…well, she never takes off the mask. As a fair-play mystery, Fatima was never an option; she does stand out among all masked characters as one of the few that is never revealed to the player/Nancy.

Though they’re not officially suspects, the Hardy Boys both deserve a breakdown in this area.

Franklin Hardy is the elder of the two and barely counts as a teenager (being 19), though he does work for ATAC (American Teens Against Crime, which is the funniest acronym in the world). Detail-oriented with a dry sense of humor, Frank is the de facto leader of the Hardy Boys and far less hot-headed than his brother Joe.

A great researcher and planner, Frank knows a little bit about almost everything, and is more cautious (as most older siblings are) about the danger of any particular situation than either Joe or Nancy tend to be. Fiercely loyal and indisputably protective, Frank believes in the power of teamwork and is constantly on watch for people who might want to hurt his friends and family. In SPY, his bio specifies a “strong connection to [Nancy]” as not only an example of this loyalty but also as a point towards his feelings for her.

It would do Frank a disservice to boil his entire characterization down to his relationship with Nancy, but it is worth mentioning briefly. There are hints of his affection towards Nancy pre-TRN, but it’s really post-TRN that it kicks into high gear (probably because of working in close circumstances with her during TRN).

TRN is, possibly coincidentally and possibly not, the last game where Wayne Rawley voices Frank, as the man/myth/legend Jonah Von Spreecken takes over in the next game Danger by Design. Not only is JVS’s Frank a little less subtle about his feelings for Nancy, he’s also a little younger sounding (more like his actual age) and a little more enthusiastic (while still being very dry). As any reader of any of these metas could probably tell you, I find JVS’s Frank to be the best of his VAs, and he’s only enhanced when Nik takes over from WAC on.

Joseph Hardy, to contrast, is the 18 year old younger brother (and, if HER is working off the supermysteries, skipped a grade to be in Frank’s graduating class) and the more impulsive of the two. Generally laid-back in contrast to Frank’s meticulous nature, Joe is no less quick and is noted in his character bio from SPY to be an “extremely proficient tactician” — a role generally reserved by lesser writers for more uptight characters.

While easily distracted and a bit prone to conspiracy theories, Joe is quick to discover interpersonal links and motives and is at least somewhat handy with mechanics. His seemingly odd fixations usually lead (in a roundabout way) to finding out the truth behind crimes and leading him to a cool treasure or historical fact along the way. He’s big-picture in a way that Frank is not, which helps him both as he sifts through Nancy’s mysteries, and when he and Frank are on the job for ATAC.

As of Lani’s departure as Nancy Drew, Rob Jones (Joe’s voice actor) is the only VA to have voiced the same character for the entirety of their presence in the series. As much as I praise JVS in all of his roles (Frank and others) Rob really deserves 90% of the credit for Joe being as loved and wonderful as he is. Rob’s voice gives Joe the correct amount of youthful enthusiasm, glee in bad puns, and continual just plain enjoyment of the world he lives in and the job he has.

The Favorite:

If it wasn’t obvious, TRN is one of my favorite Nancy Drew games — definitely in the top 5, almost definitely in the top 3 — and that makes this section really easy.

First off is the physical presence of the Hardy Boys. It feels really natural to have them appear after being in most of the games leading up to TRN, and they make every second of this game better. From Joe’s cheeseburger face to playing briefly as Frank and eavesdropping (a minigame that would reach its Pinnacle in WAC) to watching Nancy sit down with the boys and pow-wow to figure out the mysteries, the Hardy Boys are a delight from beginning to end,

My favorite moment in the game is that lovely moment where Nancy sees Camille’s ghost dancing along the train window. Camille’s spirit looks so cheerful and effervescent, gently bubbling along her beloved husband’s train, and it’s a beautiful moment. 

It’s also a crucial moment in the Nancy Drew game series and lore as a whole, as it, for the first time, clearly and plainly establishes what it’s hinted at since MHM — that in the Nancy Drew universe, ghosts and spirits are real. They’re almost never the culprit, and they don’t often look like Scary Cartoon ghosts, but they’re real all the same. This moment does so much for the game and for the series that it will forever be one of my favorite moments in the series, not just in this game.

My favorite puzzle would have to be finding and placing all the gemstones. I’ve always loved gemstones, and this game really increased my love of them (and interest in their meanings/folklore). Figuring out which animal goes with which stone — and mastering what the “hand from the deep” actually looks like — is a lot of fun, and the animatic of all the different parts whirring and coming together is beautiful. It’s often placed alongside one of the best quotes of this game: “above all…let nothing happen to my train; it holds wonderful things”.

 I also love the “true treasure” of the game; sure, Nancy’s line about friendship is a bit corny, but ND has always been a bit corny, and it’s a wonderful sentiment that a true gift can simply be your ability to make connections, rather than any material possessions or social standing.

Camille is one of my favorite “historical characters” in the series, and I know I’ve mentioned her ghost just above, but I love how personal and friendly she feels; you really do get the sense as the player that she’s there, helping Nancy along. It’s Jake’s mystery, and Jake’s mine, Jake’s friends, and Jake’s treasure, but to me, Jake Hurley’s train forever belongs to Camille.

The Un-Favorite:

As far as my least favorite puzzle in TRN goes…I don’t think I have one. I enjoy all of them for their varied styles, their tie-ins to the time period and to palace trains in general – they don’t exactly feel like puzzles, even, more like well-integrated plot points. I think this is one of the few — if not the only one — that absolutely no puzzle comes to mind, so good on TRN.

Alright, you knew it was coming. My least favorite moment in the game is where Lori reveals herself as the second culprit and tries to trap Nancy in the crumbling mine (and the fallout in the letter Nancy writes). I’ve already gone into how Lori makes no sense as the actual culprit from a characterization point of view — and TRN runs on characterization — so I won’t repeat it. But I do have problems with it besides that.

TRN feels like it was set up to have a “culprit” — Lori, kidnapping herself — and then an actual culprit. Lori wanting to find Jake’s treasure as a publicity thing is totally fine, but the whole mystery feels like there’s another sinister presence working on Lori and the rest of the cast the entire time, trying to steer them to where they want them for their own machinations.

It would shock me not at all to find out that this scenario was the original plan, cut for time. TRN came out in mid-September of 2005, not even two months after CLK. While I know that different games are worked on simultaneously, that’s still quite a quick schedule to keep — especially since game #13 (TRN) wasn’t in the cards at all, the game series meant to be 12 games in total.

The ending feeling slapdash — “ah, we don’t have time to work out a criminal, let’s just have it be Lori again” — isn’t shocking looking at the timetable and circumstances behind TRN even becoming a game. While I understand it, I feel like the lack of thought put into the last 5 minutes or so of the game is really noticeable, and undermines both character and theming.

The Fix:

So how would I fix Last Train to Blue Moon Canyon?

Unsurprisingly (and since the rest of the game is borderline perfect), the one change/fix I would make is to the identity of the final culprit. John’s ‘arc’ is somewhat anticlimactic — he’s the only character to sort of drop off the face of the game at the 2/3rds mark — and I truly believe that it’s because the seeds are there to reveal him as the true villain, but it was never carried out.

My proposal is this: the vast majority of the game stays exactly as it is. Lori kidnaps herself, is found by Nancy, and rewards her by giving her all the information she has about the location of the mine — there being a small reference to Jake receiving a letter from an “important friend” or some such descriptor.

Nancy, of course, wonders briefly about the letter and then moves on to solving the location of the mind, working in tandem with the Hardy Boys — but because John has listening devices all over the train, he hears about the letter and begins to research on a hunch that this letter has information that can help him “establish” Camille’s ghost better and make her hauntings more plausible.

In this canon, of course, John’s show really is on the brink of being cancelled without being picked up by any major network, and his paranormal tours that the player finds out about in SAW (and is referenced again in TMB) aren’t doing so well either, so he needs a huge boost to his credibility. Camille’s story — and the treasure/letter that Jake Hurley left behind — is the perfect thing to get him back on top, if he could just get the nosy detectives out of the way.

By listening in on Nancy and the Hardy Boys, John knows just as much as they do — and more, thanks to his research team for Ghost Chasers turning up a connection between Jake and Abraham Lincoln — and decides that the best way to frame this for his show is to have “Camille’s wrath” come upon the uppity teen detective, collapsing the mine to protect Jake’s treasure as soon as she finds it (and he can take it from her).

Used to working in the dark and moving quietly, John, directed by Lori (who he’s manipulated into having him follow Nancy with cameras to capture the moment), follows Nancy into the mine, helping out with a few “good guesses” (actually his knowledge from listening in and researching) and snapping a few pictures of the treasure when they find it. After asking Nancy to hand him Lincoln’s letter so that he can film it better, John runs out of the room and blocks up the exit, standing outside to gloat to Nancy.

John talks about how he manipulated Lori, how he listened in, how this is the thing he needs to boost his show up to be the most-watched program in the ghost hunting business, how clever he was to run rings around Tony, Lori, Charleena, and most of all the Hardy Boys and Nancy herself. He then tells Nancy that she won’t live to tell the tale, but he’ll get footage of “Camille” causing a quake in the mine to protect her husband’s treasure — running as the mine begins to collapse.

From there, the game would continue as normal until Nancy catches the culprit (the only difference being who the culprit is) and rides to safety.

While this section seems really long, this change isn’t actually that big in the scheme of things — it just makes far more sense to have Lori only be the first culprit while having the second culprit be someone with a lot more to lose and a lot more to gain. In general with mysteries, your culprit should always be the person with the most to lose (though the detective and/or player shouldn’t know how much everyone has to lose from the beginning), and John suits that far more than Lori does.

That being said, this is the only change I’d make; I think the rest of the game not only was great at the time of its release but has also stood the test of time a decade and a half later. The change I’ve proposed would simply take the game from being a classic with a slight blemish to a truly perfect game.

Temperance (36/42)

Pairing: Nathaniel Howe/ Female, Non-HoF Cousland

Story Summary: Nathaniel and Elissa were childhood friends, but time and distance tore them apart. In the aftermath of the Fifth Blight, and Ferelden’s Civil War, both Elissa and Nathaniel must attempt reconstruct their tattered lives. As a series of events lead them to be reunited, both are reminded of so many years ago when things were much simpler.

Chapter Summary:     A visit to Amaranthine stirs up everyone's emotions, and Liss must weigh her own happiness against concern for others.

Author Note:  The last flashback chapter from Liss' perspective has finally arrived. I'm particularly sad about saying goodbye to the Couslands, but did try to tie off any loose ends and end it on a *relatively* happy note. Nothing can be truly happy when we know what happens to the Couslands. Still, thank you all for your patience with update, and I hope you enjoy!!

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

[AO3 LINK]

Fereldan Countryside, 9:29 Dragon

The carriage ride from Highever to Amaranthine was long, the view from the window filled with an endless expanse of dull hills and grey skies that teased of rain that had yet to fall.  It was an unusual journey, and one that Liss had made few times in her life, many before she was old enough to remember, none since Lady Eliane had fallen ill.  In her mind, Vigil’s Keep was a ruin, torches burned out, cobwebs nestled in every dark, damp corner while ghosts of footsteps pattered down long empty halls.  She did not imagine it to be the sort of place one would host festivities, and she certainly could not understand why Arl Howe had so suddenly and graciously offered to host a gathering for Summerday celebrations.  

Liss had been unable to provide an appropriate excuse as to why she should remain at home, or at least nothing her parents believed to be suitable.  A shame she could not have suddenly caught some highly contagious, yet nonlethal illness that would have kept her in bed for days.  It was an even greater shame that she was a grown woman and she still had to do as her parents bade.  She loved them, but resented their insistence that she paint on a pleasant face and make political appearances, to ignore the rumors that still spread about her throughout Ferelden, to pretend like she liked Rendon Howe for any reason whatsoever.  There was no doubt that she was unfit for such a courtly lifestyle, that she’d been born into the wrong part of society. 

“Darling,” her mother spoke up from the seat directly across from her, an unstated plea in her voice, “I know that it might be too much to ask, but perhaps you could try to make it through one party without entirely shattering the ego of every young man who happens to look at you.”

Without turning her gaze from the window, Liss replied numbly, “It would be easier were their egos not so fragile.” 

“Elissa.”

“I tried at the last gathering.  I really did,” Liss explained melodramatically, turning to face her parents.  She smirked when she saw the laughter sparkling in her father’s eyes. “But I simply couldn’t pretend to find Lord Vaughan’s story about slaying a grand and majestic beast compelling.” 

Her mother appeared to stifle a chuckle. “It sounded like quite the arduous trial.  It is a wonder he survived.” 

“It was a ram, Mother.  Oren nearly hugged one to death last week, and he is tiny.” 

“Pup,” Papa chimed in, seriousness in his voice that she could not quite place. “If you do not wish to be courted, if you never want to marry, your mother and I are not going to make you.  We want you to be happy.”

“And to not embarrass your suitors in the process.”

Liss’ fists tightened around the fabric of her skirts, agitated.  The only men she had embarrassed were those who thought it appropriate to speak to her as if she were a cut of meat or some delicate trophy to be placed upon a shelf.  She’d insulted Vaughan because he made vile remarks about not only one, but several of the servants.  Of course she’d refused to tell her parents about such things, and she was not certain if it was because she did not want to worry them or if it was because she did not trust them to view the situation in the same light she did.  For all their wonderful qualities, Bryce and Eleanor Cousland were not without blind spots of their own. 

“What will make me happy,” she bit back, words sharper than she would have liked, “Is for Arl Howe to leave me alone.  Poor Thomas, too, for that matter.  If that means I have to marry an empty suit of armor, then I will.”

“You know,” Mother said, shrugging, “Thomas would be an excellent match.” 

“Yes,” Liss sighed, throwing her hands up,”Completely good and not at all awkward.” 

“Why ever would it be awkward,” the other woman teased, smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. 

“Mother. Please.”

Her parents both sighed and exchanged knowing looks with one another before turning their gazes back to her, sympathy in their expressions making her skin crawl. 

“You know, sweetheart, if you keep searching for Nathaniel in the faces of anyone else who dares get close to you, you will always be disappointed.” Mother leaned forward to place a hand on Liss’ and squeezed.

“I’ve told you a thousand times.” Liss shook her head and offered them a laugh she did not feel. “I’m over him.  It was just a ridiculous adolescent infatuation.” 

“Whatever you say, pup.”  Papa smiled a small, sad smile and leaned back in his seat. “You’ll be lucky to find someone who loves you more than that young man.” 

“He doesn’t love me,” she snapped again, hot tears burning in her eyes.  “If he loved me, he would answer my letters.”

“If that is what you must believe, then believe it,” he said with a sigh, “But I do not think you are giving the boy enough credit.” 

“Can we… stop talking about this,” Liss asked, leaning against the wall of the carriage, eyes drawn back to the window, “Please?” 

Her parents exchanged skeptical glances and eyerolls before looking back at her and nodding in unison.  She wished she had ridden with Fergus and his family after all.  Oren’s million repetitions of “are we there yet,” and fussy complaints of being bored would be far preferable to the oppressive sympathy and understanding with which she currently contended. 

Liss  knew her mother and father not deserve her cold-shouldering and hostility, that they only worried for her and her happiness.  They also knew Nate better than most, and a small part of them must have believed him to be Liss’ person.  She had believed it for many years.  Still, the longer she waited without a word from him, the more unlikely it seemed that he had the same opinion. 

The remainder of the trip was quiet, but comfortable, her father occasionally breaking the silence to hum hsoftly or tell a joke in an attempt to pull Liss from her melancholy. It would have worked had she not been so stubborn.  As they arrived in Amaranthine, to Vigil’s Keep, it was not as stark as Liss had envisioned.  Large, stone walls encircled the fortress home of the Howe family as well as several small buildings that lined the walls of the battlements, most likely serving as houses for those who worked in the castle.  Bright golden, bear-adorned banners hung from doors and decorated battlements and lively, happy people milled about excitedly, brought down only by the downpour of rain that began as the clouds broke open.  

Howe guards ushered Liss and her family inside to the main hall.  It was large, open, and lined with large wooden beams.  Deep red carpeting ran the length of the room, from the entrance to the large pair of thrones at the front.  A large brazier stood in the center of the room, unlit yet inviting all the same, and torches burned along the walls illuminating bookshelves and gorgeous portraits.  Liss could scarcely imagine that such a lovely place could belong to someone as cold as Rendon Howe.  

“Liss,” shouted a familiar voice, excitedly, pulling her from her thoughts, “I am so happy you were able to make it.”

Liss turned just in time to see Delilah embrace her, long, thin arms wrapping easily around her shoulders, before pulling away.  It had been over a year since they had seen one another in person, and Liss’ chest tightened to look at the other woman.  Delilah was tall, and had always been thin, but not so thin that she seemed as fragile as her embrace felt.  Her bright blue eyes were sunken in and sat above dark circles.  The smile she wore on her lips did not quite reach the rest of her face. 

“Delilah,” Liss finally said, taking Delilah’s hands in her own and squeezing gently before letting go, “Are you—”

“Let me show you around,” Delilah interrupted the question, very deliberately, taking Liss’ arm and tilting her head toward the direction of one of the few doors in the room.

Liss followed Delilah, down the corridors, looking as she showed her the kitchens, dining hall, and several different wings.  Ending with the Howe’s specific living area.  She’d seemed nervous, frantic the entire time, and nothing like the even, happy girl Liss remembered. 

“This is Father’s room, Thomas’, mine,”she explained.  pointing at the various doors.

“Delilah.” Liss said her name gently, hoping the concern in her voice would warrant some explanation for the obvious anxiety.

Instead she continued the tour and pointed to the final door on the wing. “That one is Nate’s… or at least it was when he was—“

“Delilah.”Liss grabbed her arm, and she turned, tears sparkling in her eyes. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

Heaving a shaky sigh, the other woman whispered an answer. “Just before you all arrived, Father informed me that I’m… that he’s…” She trailed off, obviously struggling to speak the words.

“It’s okay,” Liss said, placing her hands on Delilah’s shoulders.

“It’s anything but okay,” Delilah stated sharply, sniffing between words, “I am to marry Vaughan Kendells.  Father and Arl Urien came to some sort of agreement.”

“You can’t,” Liss said urgently, “Vaughan is—“

“Horrid? Vile? I know.” Delilah took a breath and composed herself, straightening her posture and meeting Liss’ gaze.  “Unfortunately, I was not consulted on the matter.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Well, at least maybe now he’ll leave the servant girls alone.” Delilah laughed bitterly and shrugged out from under Liss’ touch.  “Father tells me this is only the case because your father refuses to make you marry Thomas. He intends to obtain influence one way or another, I suppose.” 

“My parents do not believe in arranging marriages,” Liss explained, pretending not to feel the sting of her friend’s words.  Delilah wouldn’t blame her for this, would she? 

“So this was your choice?”

“Yes.”

Delilah’s lips pressed into a thin line and she shook her head in disbelief.  “Can you not get over yourself?”

The question pierced Liss’ chest as well as any arrow could, and she nearly released an audible gasp. “But I thought—“

“You thought what?  That Nathaniel was going to come back at any moment?”  She was speaking loud enough that her words echoed down the hallway.  “You know, I tried to believe the same.  I really did, but it’s been seven years, and he hasn’t said a word to any of us.  He’s gone. He’s not coming back, and now I am to pay the price for everyone else’s selfishness.”

How frightened Delilah must have been to become so agitated, so uncharacteristically pointed. Liss didn’t want to cry, didn’t feel as if she had the right, but nevertheless the tears fell, and Delilah flinched. A worried knot formed between her brows and she reached out. 

“Maker, Liss,” she said gently, “I am so sorry.  I shouldn’t have— that was completely unworthy of me.”

“No. I understand why you’re upset with me.  It isn’t fair.”

“Nothing is fair,” muttered Delilah, smiling sadly, “But I shouldn’t take it out on one of the few friends I have. Please forgive me.”

“Of course.”

They embraced, and Delilah excused herself to clean up and make herself appear “presentable” again.  Liss turned to walk back down the hallway, toward the main hall, hoping to regroup with her family before guests began to arrive.  She couldn’t shake the uneasiness in her stomach that lingered from her friend’s words.  Was it truly her fault that Delilah was being forced into a marriage with Vaughan?  Wouldn’t Arl Howe certainly have made the arrangement regardless of Liss’ decision about Thomas?  How many lives did that man intend on ruining to make himself happy? 

 Just as she neared the staircase that would take her down to the main area, a large portrait that hung on the wall caught her eye, and she moved closer to get a better look.  It featured two, young, uniformed men.  One had raven hair, blue eyes, and an icy expression.  The other was only slightly shorter, with sandy brown hair and a wide smile.  It was a portrait of her father and Arl Howe, painted when they were much younger, likely around her own age.  She tilted her head and examined the young arl more closely.  She had not seen Nate since he was just seventeen, but the resemblance was still striking. 

“Ah,” remarked a voice behind Liss, causing her to jump and turn around.  It was Rendon himself, and Liss’ stomach twisted back into knots.  “Lady Elissa, there you are.  Your parents have been looking for you.”

“Delilah was showing me around,” she stated politely, “It has been so long since we visited your home, I had forgotten how lovely it is.”

“You are too kind, my lady,” he replied with a smile that almost appeared genuine.  Then he turned his gaze to the painting, smirk forming at the corners of his mouth.  “I see you’ve found the one portrait for which your father ever convinced me to sit with him.”

“It is a beautiful piece, my lord.”  Liss eyed him skeptically, but his expression was still sincere as he moved closer to examine the painting himself, hands behind his back.  

“It was just after my wedding to Lady Eliane,” he explained, “Your parents were the only guests in attendance.”

Liss shook her head and furrowed her eyebrows. “Why?”

“Our wedding was not long after the end of the Rebellion.  Despite the fact that my brother’s choice to join the Rebellion turned the tide of the efforts to retake the throne, despite his death in service to King Maric, and despite my own injuries at the Battle of White River, many among the nobility still mistrusted the Howes.  We were thought to be cowards and opportunists whose loyalties depended entirely upon who had the greatest odds of winning.”

“And those sentiments remained after the war had passed?”  

“Yes.” The answer was abrupt, but Liss could hear the emotion behind the word. “Eliane’s family held that opinion more fiercely than anyone else, and especially regarding me.”

Unsure what to say, and desperate to be out of conversation with the man, Liss helplessly muttered, “I am sorry to bring up painful memories, my lord.”

As if he did not hear her remark, he sighed and continued.  “Nathaniel was always so much like Leonas, always skeptical and questioning.  My word never satisfied the boy.”

Liss’ chest tightened.  Was this his aim, to taunt her with Nate again?  “And so you sent him to Starkhaven as punishment?”

“I sent him to Starkhaven for his own good,” Arl Howe said through his teeth, true colors bleeding through the facade of geniality he’d been wearing just moments prior, “I am not the monster he would have you believe.”

“Arl Howe,” Liss stated as boldly as she could, “Nate didn’t talk about you. Not unless it was to explain why he had to pretend I did not exist for days.”

“I see.” He frowned, and stood silently for longer than Liss would have preferred. “You are still quite taken with him, aren’t you?”

“No,” she answered tersely, eyes welling up with hot, angry tears, but she held them back.  “In fact, I’m not certain I could even still call him my friend.”

“Well, that is good news, indeed,” he said, still smirking,  “You are a lovely young woman, Lady Elissa, and it would be a shame to see you wasted on that fool boy.  I hope you reconsider your refusal to marry Thomas.”

Liss’ temper ignited immediately, but before she had the opportunity to snap at the arrogant man, to tell him where he could shove his arrangement, he nodded politely and left down the hallway, toward his quarters.  It was alarming and uncomfortable, his last words repeating themselves in her mind, a silent “or else” attached to the end, a vague threat of nothing or anything.  While she would have preferred anything to giving him what he wanted, she could not help but wonder if it might be better to appease him.  Thomas was kind and gentle, and not similar enough to Nate in appearance or demeanor that it would be too uncomfortable.  Would it be so terrible?

When Liss finally made her way back down to the throne room, several guests had already begun to arrive.  A handful of lesser lords from the bannorn mingled about, talking quietly, almost drowned out entirely by the boisterous Guerrin family, Bann Teagan in particular making jokes and rubbing arms with Liss’ father.  Arl Eamon stood some distance away with his lovely wife and son, speaking to Fergus and Orianna while the two little boys played.  They all looked so happy, so contented with this way of life, with stroking one another’s egos and pretending that nothing could possibly ever go wrong.  

Liss caught a glimpse of Lord Daerios, across the room, as well.  He was surrounded by young women, daughters of other Banns no doubt.  His eyes met hers and he winked, causing heat to rush to her cheeks.  She smiled and waved, ignoring the pangs of regret that she had been unable to love him.

In the far corner of the room, sulking in the shadows stood the only person who seemed remotely as miserable as Liss was, a kindred spirit among the revelry.  Thomas had once been such a cheerful boy, mischievous and fun.  She had always wondered how he was even related Nate.  However, in the years since his brother had left, Tom had struggled to live up to his father’s expectations for him, turning to the bottle to cope.  She approached him somberly, and he nodded when he saw her, a sad, knowing smile on his lips.

“You look like you’ve spoken to Delilah. Or Father.  Both, perhaps?”

“Both,” she answered, one persistent tear streaking it’s way down her face.

“Oh, no. Don’t do that.” Thomas said, patting his pockets until he found a handkerchief and pulled it out, extending it to her.  “I’m horribly bad at comforting women.”

Liss took the handkerchief and laughed as he continued.  “Come to think of it, I’m not very good at comforting anyone.  I can’t even make myself feel better most of the time.”

“Sorry, Tom.  I just—“

“Want to go for a walk, my lady?” Tom offered his arm to her. “We could go outside, maybe get some air.”

She tilted her head and laughed again. “But it’s raining.”

“Even better,” he said with a shrug, “It does seem to fit the current mood.”

“You have a point.”  Liss smiled and looped her arm through his, and allowed him to lead her out the front door and into the courtyard.  For a brief moment she wondered if anyone saw, worried what they might think.  Then, she decided she didn’t care.  Thomas was perhaps the only person in the world who knew exactly how she felt, who understood, and she refused to give a rat’s about how leaving another party with another man would look.  It wasn’t like that with Tom anyway. 

Outside, the rain fell with much more force than Liss had expected.  It was less of a somber stroll in a drizzle, and more of a dash through a torrential downpour to reach the entrance to the battlements.  They ran up the stairs and out to a covered area that looked over the courtyard.  Water drenched her hair and clothes, making them heavy.  A glance up at Thomas, and she saw water droplets fair from his dark brown curls.  He chuckled, tousling his hair as if that would help the situation.  

“Well then,” he remarked, staring out at the sky as if it had personally offended him, before sitting down and leaning his back against the parapet.  

Liss sat down next to him, and returned his handkerchief, now thoroughly wet from the rain.  “Think of it this way: We now have ample excuse not to go back inside.”

“Sorry I missed your ridiculously boring affair, Father, but Lady Elissa and I were lost at sea.” He waved his arms dramatically.  “We had to swim for days!”

“I am certain that he would not be amused.”

“Well, no,” he admitted, smile fading, “But what else is new?”

Several quiet moments passed in which she did not know what to say.  Thomas stared off into the space in front of him, scowl hardening his soft features.  It was the first time she had ever really thought he resembled his brother.  Unable to bear it any longer, Liss sighed and spoke.  “You know, we could save ourselves and everyone the trouble, and just get married.  It wouldn’t be so bad.” 

“Yes, the perfect reason to get married: not awful.”  He laughed and turned to face Liss. “Besides, I’m content with my father’s unhappiness.”

“What? It would only be on paper, and for formal occasions.” She laughed.  “All the other times we could go on as if we were not married. “

“What about when we have to make an heir?”  Thomas raised an eyebrow and heat rushed to her face as if she were suddenly modest.  

“That’s one of those ‘cross the bridge when you get to it’ sorts of problems,” she replied, waving her hand dismissively.

“It is a bridge I would rather not have to cross,” he admitted, looking down at the floor beneath him.  

“Am I that unappealing?”

“You are very beautiful, my lady.  Strong, fun, intelligent.”  He laughed and shook his head.  “It made sense that Nate would like you, but… I don’t, not in that way at least.  I’ve never liked any woman in that way.” 

“Oh,” Liss muttered, feeling awful for putting him in such a position that he disclosed something so personal to her.  

“I’ve not talked about it with anyone except Nate,” he explained, “And now you.  Please don’t tell anyone.  Not even Delilah.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

“Anyway,” Tom continued, finally bringing his eyes back up to meet hers, “What I am trying to say is that I’ve come to terms with the fact that I will not be allowed to freely be with whomever I want.  Not while father still lives and breathes.”

“Then why not be with a friend, someone who understands?”  Liss didn’t want to marry Thomas, now less than ever.  Yet she hated the idea that he would be miserable. 

“Because you should be with my brother,” he said, seriously, frowning. “You deserve to be with someone who loves you like he does at the very least.” 

“Tom,” she argued, “Nate hasn’t spoken to me in years.”

“I know, Liss.  He hasn’t spoken to me in years either.”  His words were pointed, but not at her.  “He’s a ridiculous, stubborn arse, and he’s going to regret that he ever thought he could pretend we don’t exist.  That doesn’t make him any less my brother, and it doesn’t make him any less in love with you.”

“I —”  She began to protest, but did not even know where to start, or if she even wanted to.  She wanted to believe that Nathaniel cared about her, but that made everything more difficult.  There were no easy answers if he still cared, no quick and easy solution to locking away her own feelings.

“I could probably have said that more gently, couldn’t I?”  He smiled apologetically. 

“Just a little,” she joked.  

They sat up in the battlements until the rain slowed, and their clothing was dry enough that their return to the main hall would not cause a stir.  The guests had all arrived, and music had begun to be played.  Everyone danced happily.  Even Delilah had cheered up as she twirled around with Fergus while Vaughan stood off to the side grimacing.  Oriana watched, eyes glittering with amusement. 

It was Oren who first noticed Liss’ return, grinning and flailing his arms excitedly as he ran to her.  She scooped him up in her arms easily and embraced him.  He wrapped his tiny arms around her neck, hands tangling up in her hair.  

“Auntie Liss,” he said, words lilting up into a question. 

“Yes?”

“Why are you all wet?”  He leaned back, eyebrows furrowed in concern. 

“We were lost at sea,” Thomas chimed in, pinching Oren’s little nose playfully, “Your auntie here is the only reason we didn’t drown.” 

“Thomas,” Liss scolded, but was unable to keep the laughter out of her voice. 

Oren’s eyes widened and he looked back to Liss, bringing his hands to her cheeks. “Is that true?”

“It’s completely true,” Thomas answered in her stead, “She even had to fight an enormous whale with her bare hands.” 

“Tom,” Liss scolded again, words muffled by her cheeks being squished together. 

“Oh wow,” Oren exclaimed, “You’re the bestest auntie ever.”

“And your the bestest nephew ever,” she answered, doing her best to hold back the blissful tears that welled in her eyes. 

“Oren, let go of Elissa’s face, child,” Oriana said as she approached.  She was both stern and gentle at the same time.  

“Mama, Auntie Liss and Thomas got lost at sea and Auntie Liss got them back here by fighting a whale.” 

Oriana raised her eyebrows and smiled, looking from Liss to Thomas.  “Sounds like quite the adventure.  Perhaps we can join next time, yes?”

“I love you, Liss,” Tom said, dryly, “But I am not getting lost at sea again for your family’s amusement.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I intend to return to my corner to sulk.”

Liss and Oriana both laughed as Thomas walked away, grabbing a glass of wine from one of the servants before doing so.  He’d be completely drunk within the hour, and Liss couldn’t say she blamed him.  She turned her head back so that she could look at Oren, still gazing up at her in adoration.  

“Hey Oren.”

“Hmm?”

“Want to dance with me?”

Oren grinned widely and wiggled down out of Liss’ arms, balancing himself before bowing and extending a hand to her as formally as a four year old could.  Liss looked up at Oriana who beamed proudly.  

“Well are you not just a proper gentleman,” Liss said, as she took his hand and walked him out onto the dance floor.  They spun and laughed and twirled, completely ignoring the steps to the Remigold, or whatever other ridiculous dance the others performed.  For the first time in years, Liss felt something she could only describe as contentment.  Nothing was perfect.  In fact, many things in her life, and in the lives of those around her, were the opposite of perfect.  However, they all had one another, and maybe that would be enough.  

Love Carries On: Chapter VI

Virgil woke up, and immediately jumped up; today was the day, Logan’ birthday. five months of hard work, five months of life changing progress and now today was the day that Logan should get to relax. Virgil sat up out of bed and scrambled around until he found his hoodie, a gift from Roman. He pulled it on, his perpetually cold body reassured in the added protection of the jacket. He pushed his hair out of his face before heading out into the living room.

The living room was entirely empty, which was to be expected. His boyfriends always liked to go really big on celebrations, birthdays, holidays, any chance they got to be extra they’d take. Logan had presumably been kicked out of the house until the party and the rest of them were probably in the kitchen preparing something akin to a feast.

Virgil smiled to himself as he walked into the kitchen to find Roman and Patton in matching flowered aprons. Patton was furiously stirring some type of batter, while Roman was building layers of something in a pan. Diego was nowhere to be found. He walked up to Roman and tapped him sharply on the shoulder, he received on finger held up to him, give me a sec.

After a few minutes of working and arranging, Roman turned around. What’s up Virge? He leaned forward, raising his eyebrow in a questioning way.

Where’s D? Virgil responded in likewise, his own question granting an eyebrow raise.

We sent him to the store so that he could get decorations and candles. He shrugged at the end of the statement, his eyebrows relaxing as he switched out of the question asking zone.

By himself? It was less a question and more an anxious and panicked statement.

No! Logan went with, as did Stella. Roman was surprisingly nonchalant, and his eyes were already wandering back to the pan full of food. He just wanted to cook with Patton and not be bothered by all these questions about where and who.

Virgil rolled his eyes before walking away. He couldn’t do anything right now, Logan and Diego were already gone, and he wasn’t a very good cook, or at least not Roman and Patton’s level. A brief thought of him helping Logan and D set up decorations shot through his mind and he nodded to himself in agreement. Seeing as there wasn’t much else to do, he settled himself on the couch and put on a documentary.

As much as he poked fun at Logan for liking documentaries, he liked them a lot as well, it didn’t require him to use his imagination and to understand what type of tone the narrator, or in the case of a lot of movies, character, might be using because they were just relaying factual information. It was comforting to read the subtitles and feel like he understood exactly what was going on.

Today’s documentary was on World War One, it seemed to be centered around one specific battle, but Virgil was just sort of watching the pictures on screen and halfway reading the words. It was comforting, to hang out and not have to do anything just yet. The black and white photography was just boring enough for his brain to focus on other things. He found himself pondering who’s car the boys had taken, what Roman was making, what Patton was making, how Stella was doing. His mind just drifted around, and it was comforting to drift, nothing to focus on, just allowing his mind to think and know things.

He spent what felt like hours doing that, but it was barely half an hour before the door opened and Logan and Diego came in. He didn’t hear the door of course, but he did feel the tap on the shoulder from Logan and he turned around to see them both standing there, bags in their hands.

“Want to help decorate?” Diego spoke slowly, allowing Virgil to read his lips.

Yes. He signed it, a quick knocking movement, before getting up off of the couch to help them put things away.

They set the bags on the table, and inside Virgil found an assortment of party goods, hats, banners and streamers, candles, a few bags for gift wrapping (which Virgil needed because he’d been hiding Logan’s present for months and now he needed a bag to put it in). He was impressed that they had managed to remember all of this, of course since Logan went along, it shouldn’t have surprised him at all.

He shot Diego a quick few signs, asking him if there was a plan. And when Diego explained to him that there wasn’t a plan, he was almost delighted. Virgil had been told almost all of his life that he had an eye for design, and even if that was something of a hidden talent, he thoroughly enjoyed designing things. He grabbed the streamers, (blue and silver) and started to layout in his head where he wanted everything to go. He dug around in the bag until he found a roll of tape. He grabbed a chair from the table and climbed up on it.

Then he paused, suddenly remembering the banner that said ‘Happy Birthday’ on it. He snapped to get Diego’s attention, pointing at the banner on the table, and wordlessly, he handed it to him. Virgil took a step back and looked at the arch, careful not to fall off of the chair, trying to figure out where the banner would have to go to be centered. He nodded his head unconsciously before turning back and snapping again. Diego looked up, and he signed for him to get Logan’s attention.

Logan was the tallest of his boyfriends, and he needed him to hold the banner while he ripped the tape to hold it in place. After Diego explained to him what Virgil needed, Logan came over to stand by him. Virgil guided his hand to where he needed it to be, before letting go so that he could tear the tape. He tore several smaller pieces, so that he could stabilize it, before pulling a long piece to put over the rest. Then, he pulled on the shoulder of Logan’s button up, trying to get him to move around to the other side. After a few seconds of being yanked on, he understood what he wanted, and after accidentally running into the chair that Virgil was standing on, he eventually made his way over to the other side. Once again, Virgil guided his hand into position before taping the other side of the banner in place.

As soon as he was done, he patted Logan on the head in thanks, and grabbed the roll of streamers off of the table. The blue roll was the one he had originally had in his hand, and now that the banner was up, he could see it that much clearer. He ripped off a piece of tape, and stuck just a little bit of it to the wall where he wanted the streamer to be. Then, he placed the streamer, before smoothing the tape over it.

Virgil turned around where he was, reaching out to grab the scissors off of the table as well. He cut the streamer and then stuck them into his pocket so that he’d have them on hand. He stuck the other end of the streamer centered in the middle of the banner. Then, he put the blue streamers in his other pocket to replicate the design with the silver streamers.

It didn’t take long for him to have every archway leading into the dining room decorated with streamers. Some of them were branched across the archway, while others hung down in colorful representations of celebration. He got down off of the chair, and turned it back to face the table, as he finished the archway leading into the kitchen. Then, he pushed it back, before turning away so that he could set all of the things out of his pocket on the buffet table in the corner.

He smiled, satisfied with himself, before going back over to the table and putting on one of the party hats. There were several of them, in a variety of colors, and he was glad to see a dark blue one, which was close enough to his favorite color, purple. He settled it on his head, wincing slightly when the elastic band snapped his chin. He took the empty bags off of the table, and put them in the bag bag.

Diego snuck up behind him, and grabbed (not surprisingly) the yellow party hat. Then, he tapped Virgil on the shoulder.

It looks so cool in here! He smiled brightly, his eyes wide and almost amazed looking.

Thank you. He smiled just as brightly, before sitting down at the table to rest. Are Roman and Patton almost done? It was more of a curious question than a pointed one, and he tried hard to convey that by keeping his expression more surprised like rather than questioning.

Patton is waiting for the cake to cool so that he can put the icing on it.

Nice, what flavor? He knew that Logan didn’t like overly sweet flavors.

Marbled perhaps? I didn’t get a good look at it. He shrugged at the end of the statement, sitting down next to Virgil.

Eventually they were joined by Logan, who after having a conversation that Virgil couldn’t quite keep up with, was handed the silver party hat. He settled it on his own head, before leaning back in his chair and presumably turning his attention to Stella on the floor.

Meanwhile, Patton was adding the finishing touches to Logan’s cake. He had made a lemon cake, allowing for the frosting to be more icing like than anything, and it was decorated with candied lemon slices and pretty yellow flowers. He had written ‘Happy Birthday Logan’ in flowing Silver writing to finish it off. It was one of the only times his handwriting would ever look good.

Roman on the other hand, was just putting the finishing touches on his vegetarian lasagna. He sprinkled the cheese on top of it, before popping it back in the oven. He was very proud of this recipe, a mixture of mushrooms and black beans to create something akin to a meat texture (despite his other boyfriends’ embrace of the vegetarian life, he still indulged in meat every so often). As the cheese was melting, he stirred a little bit of ranch into the mashed potatoes, adding a little more creaminess to the dish. He also reached out to stir the pot of corn so that it wouldn’t burn.

Soon, the cheese had melted, and with a little bit of help from Diego, they carried all of the food out to the table. The festivities were in full swing, they all talked and laughed over dinner; they told stories about Logan, poking fun at him, reminding them all of his greatest days. It was exactly what a great birthday should be.

While they were chatting, Roman had dished up dinner, and now that it was on everyone’s plate, they all quieted down so they could eat. Patton took a bite of the lasagna and immediately his stomach turned, it was slimy, some of the filling was, the texture of what he could only guess was beans and maybe even mushrooms. His heart lurched, he had to forcibly grab the edge of the table to actually swallow down the bite had taken. He caught Virgil’s eye with a pleading look.

Virgil watched as Patton set his fork down and looked down at the ground, he had grabbed the table very tightly, before shooting him a pleading look. Virgil knocked on the table to get Roman’s attention. Ask Pat what’s wrong. His look was just as pleading.

“Pat, are you okay?” He turned to him, to see him hunched slightly over his plate, his knuckles white as he gripped the table.

“I’m fine.” He choked on his words, his gag reflex involuntarily reacting to what he had eaten. His mind was racing with the feeling the texture left behind, his mind blooming with all of the things the texture reminded him of, mud and snails and raw meat.

“Are you sure? You can tell me if something is wrong Patton.” Roman kept his voice as quiet as he could, maybe all the noise had upset him, or something had been said that startled him.

He started to cry as his mind almost hyper fixated on the taste in his mouth and the texture it represented and all the things that texture represented, his mind ran circles around it as tears streamed down his face. Not quiet, unfocused crying, but audible sobs and whimpers.

“It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine, I’m fine.” He murmured over and over again, pushing the plate away from him in an actual show of what was wrong.

Roman felt a flame of something like anger, and he didn’t know why, but he was mad at Patton. He had worked so hard, had done everything he was supposed to, didn’t use meat because Virgil was vegetarian, didn’t make anything overly sweet because Logan didn’t like sweet, didn’t make any of the dishes that Diego had specified so he wouldn’t cause a switch in him, he had done everything and now this.

“Well if you don’t like it Patton you can just not eat it.” Something that could be said with a warm and caring tone, something that should be said with a warm and caring tone, was full of malice and bitterness. “I worked hard to make something good and if you don’t like it I’m sorry.” He crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing in anger as he sat back down. Stupid Patton, why can’t you just like it, there’s nothing wrong with my cooking, you’re overreacting. It wasn’t that bad I tried it too, no one else seems bothered by it.

It reminded Patton of when his mother would get mad at him and send him to his room. And in his mind's eye, it was one and the same, Roman was his mother, hissing cruelly at him in french and sending him to his room for causing a problem at the dinner table. Despite the fact that Roman hadn't said it, he could still hear 'go away, go to your room.' in his voice. He got up, and fled from the table, moving as quick as he could without running, tears still streaming from his eyes

in which socks are not a necessity | Alfonse x OC

words: 1818

description: the winter festival has grown too cold to weather a moment longer, and alice seeks peace and warmth in front of the fireplace. 

hi @avistella​, i was your pinch hitter for the @summonersecretsanta​ gift exchange! Thank you for being so patient with me in finishing your gift. i hope you enjoy! happy holidays!

It’s so cold. The Winter Festival is always a joyous occasion in Askr, but it’s evening now; the sun has long since set, and there’s a chill seeping into her bones. Alice has already spent the better part of the day entrenched in celebration – people pulling her this way and that, to play this game, to sing these carols, to thank her for guiding the Order of Heroes over and over again – and to be frank, she’s had all she can take for one day! She creaks out of her spot in front of the fire to add another log. As she stokes the flames, she muses that perhaps tomorrow she’ll treat herself by sleeping in. Surely, the castle will go on without its Summoner for an hour or two in the morning?

In fact, the thought of her warm bed is particularly appealing right now…. Once the fire has warmed her skin a little more, she’ll make her way there. In the meantime, she sets about thawing her toes by the heat of the flames.

“You know,” she hears from behind her, “most people would at least consider wearing socks in the winter-time.” There’s a smile in his voice, as though he already suspects what answer she’ll give him; and though she knows he’s only teasing, she can’t hold in a small huff.

“I’m fine without socks, thank you very much. I don’t see you hounding Sharena for wearing shorts in the winter.” She glances over her shoulder at her uninvited guest. The prince has shed his armor for the evening; dressed in a simple tunic and slacks, he nearly looks… ordinary. The thought that she is one of the few people who are lucky enough to see him like this makes her proud (though she’d never admit it out loud).

“No, perhaps not,” Alfonse replies from his place near the door. “But Sharena isn’t quite as sensitive to the cold as you are, and I’d hate for you to get frostbitten toes.” There’s a warm, shy smile on his face, the kind of smile that sparks something hot in her chest, and she turns her gaze back to the fire to hide the color in her cheeks. Alfonse clears his throat and speaks again. “May I… join you there? If I’m not interrupting you.”

Just a minute ago, Alice had been reveling in her solitude; but if it’s him, well… interacting doesn’t feel effortful. She pats the empty floor beside her. “Of course you can.” It’s difficult to resist his hopeful look – not that she tries particularly hard. She returns her attention to the flames, and for a long moment after he settles beside her, there’s nothing but the sound of the fire crackling.

There’s something… intimate about quietly sitting together like this. After the cacophony of war, the bustle of festivals, the arguments and debates of war councils… most days, Alice thinks she’d like to just crawl under her covers and stay there. It would be easier. It would certainly be more peaceful. But sitting together with Alfonse like this… it makes her glad she decided to get out of bed.

“Did you need—” “I wanted to—” They interrupt each other, flushing when they realize their mistake. Alice turns her face in embarrassment, and Alfonse coughs into his hand. “You first,” he insists.

“Did you need a break from all the celebrating?” she asks him.

Alfonse scratches the back of his head. “Well, not quite…” he clears his throat and starts again. “Celebrations like this are welcome. Seeing my people in high spirits… it reminds me why we go out and fight, every day. I am grateful for that.”

When he speaks of his people, the look on his face changes… something between determination and fondness. He loves them dearly. She hopes, one day, she’ll learn to love them with the same fervor.

“They’re welcome, but…?” she probes gently.

“But…. I couldn’t find you,” he admits. Perhaps it’s the light from the fire… but his cheeks almost look a little pink. (It’s terribly endearing.) She can’t help the small smile peeking out on her face. “I have something I wanted to give you,” he adds hastily. It’s only now that she notices that he’s been hiding something behind his back all this time: a small, neatly wrapped gift.

“Huh? But... we already exchanged presents,” Alice protests, flustered by the sudden gift. Did she forget an agreement to exchange extra gifts? Or worse, has he done this out of the goodness of his heart, and she has nothing to repay him with?

“That we did. However, I wanted to give you my true gift in private.” He pauses for a moment, looking for the right words. “It is… selfish of me, perhaps, but I want to be… the only one to see your reaction.” His face is undeniably pink now, but he isn’t avoiding her gaze.

“I – well… alright,” she responds. Alfonse looks satisfied, and a moment later he sets the gift in her hand. “Should I open it now?”

“Please do,” he answers. He’s nervous, she realizes! Even though he’s speaking so boldly to her! What could have Alfonse practically wringing his hands in front of her? Now she’s becoming anxious…. Oh, but now he’s waiting for me to open it….

“The wrapping is very nice,” she says to break the nervous tension between them. “I almost feel sorry to rip it.” Alfonse smiles in response, but doesn’t say anything; she finally bites the bullet and pulls at the ribbon. The wrapping paper is torn off to reveal a small, white box.

She hesitates for just a moment before opening it. Alfonse is watching her eagerly, though she doesn’t know it – she’s too busy taking in the intricate necklace he’s presented her. It’s finely made, that much is clear. The gold metal shines in the light of the fire, delicately shaped and curved in swooping branches to cradle the stone in the center – a bright shade of blue that she recognizes on sight.

It takes a moment before she finds the words to speak, and she’s quieter than she means to be. “The stone…. It’s the same color as the one in Fólkvangr. Isn’t it?”

Alfonse smiles wider now; He had so hoped she would make the connection. “It is,” he says just as quietly. There’s an implication behind the connection of sharing the same stone, though neither of them is quite brave enough to give voice to it. “Do you like it?” he asks instead.

“I… I think it’s gorgeous,” she says truthfully, “and far too much to give me.”

“I commissioned it specifically to be made for you,” he replies evenly.

“That’s even worse!” she groans. The longer she looks at it, the more certain she is that she isn’t worthy of such a meaningful gift. “I don’t mean to scorn your gift, it really is beautiful, but this must have cost so much. I’m hardly worth spending that kind of money on!” Without really wanting to, she pushes it back to Alfonse. “It’s kind of you, really, but I don’t need or deserve this kind of gift.”

He catches her hand, and his smile shifts to a frown. “Alice, you must know I could never agree with that. I had this made because I wanted you to have it.”

Alice shakes her head, avoiding his eyes. “Alfonse, please… it’ll only make me feel guilty. I didn’t prepare you a gift in turn.”

He looks a little crestfallen now, and she regrets her rejection even more. “But you didn’t refuse the circlet when I gave you that. What’s so different about this?” Indeed, the circlet sits comfortably on her head as he speaks. He’s been proud to see her wear it almost daily since he gifted it to her.

She pauses for a moment. “It’s… well, it’s not, I suppose. It’s just that… isn’t this sort of gift… quite sentimental?” She’s almost nervous to look at him now – has she read his gift wrong? Oh, perhaps she should have gone straight to bed after all!

But no, he’s looking at her intently once again. “It is. That’s why I wanted to give it to you in private.” He chooses his words slowly once more. “I hope that you will look at it… and think of me, and know that you are ever on my mind.”

His voice is very nearly reverent, and her protests finally die in her throat. Alfonse makes this sound like – well, not quite a proposal, but almost… a declaration of intent.

She considers his words for a long moment. “If… I don’t accept… would you give this to someone else?” She asks quietly. Her heart is tinged with jealousy now, though she knows it shouldn’t be; if she is to refuse his gift, he ought to do what he pleases with it. Yet, now that she knows what significance this necklace holds… thinking of another woman wearing it leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.

“I will not,” he answers immediately. “If you refuse it now, I will hold onto it until the day that you do accept it.”

Her cheeks are burning hot and her heart is fluttering, jealousy soothed and slotted away for another time. She looks to his eyes for one last hint that he might be wavering, but he’s holding strong; in fact, he raises the necklace u. “May I?”

“…Yes, please,” she finally concedes, turning her back to him and lifting her hair off her neck. Alfonse’s breath hitches at the sight, though he quickly calms himself – the gesture is more intimate than she realizes. He carefully hangs the necklace around her neck. The metal is cold, but his fingers brushing against the nape of her neck are warm. He allows himself to appreciate her little shiver, and then pulls away.

Alice turns to face him. Bathed in the warm glow of the fireplace, cheeks flushed pink and an elusive smile on her face, the necklace – his necklace, nestled on her chest. Alfonse blinks, breath hitching once more, and commits this to memory.

Her voice breaks his reverie. “How do I look?”

He takes a second to find his voice. “Would you stay still a moment longer?” She tilts her head, brow furrowed slightly. “I want to remember you just like this. You look beautiful.” At this, Alice flushes a deep, deep red, and hides her face in her hands. “No, no, I mean it!” Alfonse laughs, leaning in towards her. All of a sudden, he finds that he’s feeling rather giddy. He gently pulls her hands from her face. “You look beautiful like this, too!”

“You’re flattering me,” she accuses, but she’s slowly starting to giggle along with him. And as he kisses her, sweet and slow, Alice prays that this warm feeling inside her will last a little longer.

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 5434 Chapter: 3/5 Rated: T+ Summary: They wake in a forest far from home. Bodies lay dead and broken across the clearing. All they can remember is their names. (Madara falls in love with a single look.)

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Chapter 3

No matter how attached he was to the man he lived with there was only so long Madara could stay shut away in the same house before cabin fever struck. The small tastes of freedom he got from their explorations of the marketplace had him craving more before long so when Hashirama offered to show him around the administration tower where he supposedly worked it was an easy decision to go. Tobirama waved them off with a distracted face that Madara knew meant that he would probably be coming back to find something in their house on fire again but, since that was just part of the man’s charm by this point, he left without a fuss.

What Hashirama called the administration tower turned out to be the same massive building in the center of the village where they had met him their first day back here. It was good luck that the weather today was so nice since Madara insisted on hovering outside for several minutes just to take in the sight of such a large structure.

“You said only a few years ago none of this existed?”

“Nope! Nothing! The whole village used to be forested land!”

“Huh.” Madara tilted his head back to look up at the top floor. “And we were really at war before that happened?”

At the reminder Hashirama wilted ever so slightly. “Yes, unfortunately. It took many years even after our fathers’ deaths for us both to convince our people to lay down their weapons. After so many generations fighting each other there were…a lot of people not ready to stop.”

“I guess I can understand where they would be coming from.” Madara brought his head back down to find Hashirama blinking at him rapidly, both eyes wide and staring.

“You can? But I thought you wanted the fighting to stop too?”

“How would I know what I wanted then?”

“Oh right…”

“Just show me the inside.”

Hashirama grinned quickly, all signs of bewilderment fading away, and he leapt to open the door for both of them. If anything Madara had expected his only familiarity with this place to be the one memory he had of it from a few weeks before. He was surprised when stepping in to the front hallway came with the same comfortable sort of feeling as he got when he stepped inside the home he’d made with Tobirama. Whether his head remembered or not his heart knew this was a place where he belonged. And that was nice, he supposed. It would be nicer if the rest of him could join the party.

Despite apparently being only a few years old the wooden floors in the hallways looked well tread with the boards in the center already turning a different color from so many feet travelling back and forth every day. Madara swallowed the irrational urge to bend down and run his fingers across the smooth wood, following his friend in to the first room the man wanted to show him. There wasn’t even anyone else around but if someone stepped in to the hallway to see him fondling the ground he had no idea what kind of reputation he might be ruining.

The room they went in to had a lot of charts and maps pinned up on the walls as well as several large tables filling the center. Even with no one inside at the moment it still managed to look like a busy room. Madara glanced around to take everything in and gravitated to the most natural point that called for him, the small podium set up at one end. He actually felt rather important standing there even with the casual stance he took leaning his weight on both arms and clasped his hands together loosely.

“So–” he started to say only for Hashirama to interrupt him.

“Oh you do remember!”

“Eh?”

“You…don’t remember?”

His eyes flicked around the room, unsure what he was looking for. “No? What am I supposed to be remembering?”

“Aw I thought that maybe- oh well. You always stand there when you’re in this room. This is the main briefing room we use to send teams out on particularly dangerous or sensitive missions rather than in the public Mission Room down the hall. Actually you and Tobi both spend a lot of time in here, you’re kind of…really competitive for handing out missions.”

“Competitive?” Madara smirking, picturing it. “A little competition can be healthy. So we’re both very involved in that sort of thing?”

“Um, I would say it’s more because you guys have such different views on how a lot of things should be done, so…” The way Hashirama drifted off felt a little suspicious. It felt like one of those moments when Madara knew he should have been able to read deeper in to the words, which was kind of annoying.

With a roll of his eyes he changed the subject. “What else do I do here? Sounds like I’m a paper pusher; that doesn’t seem like something I would ever enjoy.”

As easily as that Hashirama was all too happy to change subjects, darting around the room to show him a few things and then leading him away up the stairs to show him the offices where he apparently spent most of his time. The paperwork he feared seemed to be a large part of his life but all the things Hashirama described in between, the police force and the dangerous missions and acting as a prominent member on the council of advisors, those sounded just exciting enough to make up for it. His life wasn’t completely boring it seemed. At least not enough to make him dread going back to it.

He at least had some nice digs to work in. Madara paused just inside the door of his office and looked around, arms crossed over his chest and chin nodding with approval. It was nice in here. The window was quite large and with the curtains opened wide it brought golden sunlight spilling in to the room, pooling over the neatly organized filing cabinets, illuminating the over-burdened yet orderly desk. And that was definitely the desk of someone important. Just the right size to garner respect while also remaining humble, a beautiful rich dark color with a simple yet tasteful trim and the crest of the Uchiha clan carved in to the side facing whoever should enter the room. It seemed he was a prideful man; no surprise there.

“Now that’s a desk I could sit behind,” he murmured under his breath. Then since there was nothing stopping him he did so, marching over and plopping his weight down in the sturdy matching chair, almost startling to discover a cushion there to make the seat more comfortable. Pride wasn’t worth the hemorrhoids apparently.

“You look just like yourself,” Hashirama complimented him. “Well, not that you don’t always look like yourself. You always look the same. I just mean you look…I really hope you know what I mean because I can’t figure out how to say it.”

“I think I know.” He very much didn’t but if agreeing would get the man to shut up then he’d rather not listen to the blathering.

Smiling at him in thanks, Hashirama nodded to the desk with a low chuckle. “Now if only we could find what we need in there. When you left you sealed up your desk like always but we didn’t expect you to be away from duty for so long and we can’t find half the stuff you were working on!”

Madara acted without thinking. As though the movement were entirely natural he reached down and pulled open the bottom drawer on his right side, feeling the seals release at the touch of his specific chakra signature but thinking nothing of it, and felt around until he had a grip on all three of the scrolls he found inside. When he pulled them up he could see they were all storage scrolls probably containing several documents each and by the look on Hashirama's face he already knew the answer to the question as he asked it.

“Were you looking for these?”

“You knew exactly where they were!” Hashirama clapped both hands together with joy but Madara was quick to shoot him down for what must be the eighth time in only a couple hours together.

“That seemed like the most logical place for me to put them,” he said, almost gleeful to see the other man deflate.

As he always did, Hashirama took a few moments to curl in to himself until one could almost see the black clouds of sadness gathering over his head. Madara used that time to allow himself a tiny secret smile for what his friend didn’t know. It might have only come to him after his arm was already in motion but he did recall where he put those documents, remembered the act of slipping them in to that drawer and sealing them away. Just like the moment with Izuna it was a flash, a vision there and gone, but this time he was certain of what it had been and this time he remembered it.

He remembered.

One would think the first thing he might do now that he was sure of what was happening would be to tell someone. To celebrate with Hashirama or at least run home to inform Tobirama. He did neither of those things. After what happened with Izuna he’d been thinking a lot lately about how it would feel to start getting his memories back and how he would react but more importantly he’d been thinking about all the strange little reactions people kept having to his relationship with Tobirama. How would it feel to finally realize whatever they were waiting for him to realize? Call him a secret softy but he really wanted to be able to say that they two of them had fallen in love with each other twice.

So far Tobirama had shown no signs of remembering at all, which was great for the plan Madara had cobbled together in his head just that morning. If he was the first to get a few things back then hopefully one of those things could be the story of how the two of them got together. He wanted to remember their first date and recreate it, take Tobirama out on the same adventure to see what would happen, to know how different things would go with a little foreknowledge of where they would end up. An experiment of his own. His partner would certainly approve of it from that angle.

While Hashirama dashed off to quickly give the files he’d found to the people who had been waiting for them Madara leaned back and kicked both feet up on to what little space was available on his desk. The position felt suspiciously comfortable until he noticed there was just enough clear space at just the right angle to allow him to do so, a clue compounded by the misty eyes Hashirama hit him with after walking through the door again, so to throw the man off Madara asked a few questions about his work. They stayed in his office for as long as they could until someone wandered in looking for the Hokage to sign something and then Hashirama asked with an apologetic look if he wouldn’t mind spending a little time on the top floor.

Upstairs was even cushier than his own office, though he could understand the necessity of that. The biggest cheese should always have the flashiest stuff so no one ever forget that he was in charge. Madara gravitated towards the same couch he’d sat on the last time he was in here and draped himself across the length of it without giving too much thought towards decorum. If Hashirama could do away with formality then so could he. While he waited he let his eyes roam over the contents of the room with a mildly curious face that hopefully disguised the focused intent underneath. His own office had sparked a memory. If he apparently spent so much time up here with his ‘best friend in the whole wide world’ – Hashirama's words, clearly – then maybe there was something here that could spark another no matter that he’d told the man that wasn’t how it worked.

Nothing about the desk looked very interesting, too similar to the pile of untouched drudgery that had been on his own even if Hashirama's set up was that much fancier. Not to mention it was growing right out of the floor for some reason. Other than looking like a comfortable escape route the window didn’t call to him very much. Neither did the potted plants dotting every single available inch of free space all around the room. What did call to him was the massive bookshelf on the far side of the room from the desk as though when Hashirama decorated he intentionally put as much space between him and all that reading material as possible.

Either that or Tobirama was doing what he could to protect the precious literature from a watery death at the hands of such a frequent crier.

Tilting his head to one side, Madara stretched himself out a little more and considered the bookcase. Why would that particular area of the office call to him? A part of him really wanted there to be some kind of secret room behind it that only he and a select few people might know about. Just because it was unlikely didn’t mean it was necessarily untrue. He could dream!

A quick check told him Hashirama was still engaged with whatever paperwork he’d dragged them both here to sort out so, using much more stealth than necessary, Madara crept off the couch and moved gradually across the wooden floors. Nothing really stood out as a possible trigger for any secret rooms but he did still keep the option in the back of his head as he drew close enough to run his fingers over the scrolls and spines. Something here felt familiar. He just had to figure out what. It wasn’t the wooden figurines with their living floral crowns or the tightly packed scrolls on the bottom shelves or even the dyed leather covers so cool and smooth against his fingers. But maybe…

Madara couldn’t say what made him look but the moment his eyes flicked up he knew. He couldn’t see it from here but he knew there would be something hiding just out of sight on top of the bookcase. Peeking back to make sure he was still unobserved, he lifted up on to his toes and stretched to curl his fingers over the edge, scrunching his nose as the first thing he encountered was a giant dust bunny. A few quick pats around and then he was biting his lip to stifle a cry of triumph.

The book he pulled down was slim and well read, not much taller than his palm was long. On the cover a young man stood tall with his shoulders thrown back and his eyes gazing in to the middle distance. It wasn’t the sort of thing one might expect to find in a work environment but all it took was one glance for Madara to grin, familiar now with the sensation of an old memory flickering up in to the forefront of his mind.

Familiar chakra getting closer, panic in his veins, nowhere to go. Tobirama couldn’t see him with this. He would never live it down! Where to hide it? There was nowhere here that Tobirama wouldn’t stick his nose in to, the man knew this office better than its own occupant. Where to hide!?

Madara turned the book over to look at the back, reading through the summary and a little embarrassed to admit that it still sounded like a thrilling read no matter how cheesy the plotline promised to be. This was definitely the sort of book he would be embarrassed to get caught reading by someone he wasn’t close to but he couldn’t imagine hiding himself like that from his own partner. The memory must have been one from before they started dating. Or possibly right at the beginning of their relationship when he would have been trying to give the best impression of himself and hide away all the parts he saw as embarrassing or undesirable. How cute.

That was the nice part about having no knowledge of the world around him other than their relationship, he supposed. If he knew nothing else Madara at least knew that he and Tobirama cared about each other so there was no need to worry himself over whether the other man would accept any part of him. Clearly he already had.

“What have you got there?” Hashirama's voice from right over his shoulder gave him such a fright that his first reaction was to toss the book away as hard as he could. Unfortunately his instincts failed him rather spectacularly and he tossed it behind himself, wincing at the fleshy thud and resulting cry of pain as it smacked the other man right in the face.

“Nothing! Don’t look at it!”

“Hey, my book!”

“Wait…your book?”

Hashirama was rubbing his nose with one hand and holding the book with the other when Madara turned around, smiling at the front cover bemusedly. “I lent this to you ages ago and never got it back. Well, you said you gave it back but I never remembered putting it anywhere. I must have left it here at the office!”

A rather neat explanation to sidestep admitting he’d recovered yet another piece of memory, Madara latched on to the opportunity presenting itself without hesitation.

“Sure, must be yours if it’s in here. I found it on the bookshelf.” Not even a lie. Tobirama would be so proud of how sneaky he was being. Except Tobirama would not be told about this because then he would have to explain why he was jumpy enough to be throwing books at Hashirama's face. Shame was fine to share between them but he was trying to set up a surprise when their first date came back to him so any talk of remembering things was off the table.

Thankfully Hashirama wasn’t the type to question things beyond the easiest explanation. “Well I’m glad I found this, let me just tuck it back in here now that I know where it is. Now! What else should we show you around here?”

Madara wanted to see the prisons, mostly interested in whether or not they had any really impressive prisoners and to hear if he could take credit for some of them, but apparently they were all held inside the ANBU headquarters until being transferred to a prison somewhat outside the actual village. That made sense. Most people wouldn’t want to rub elbows with the scum of society. It was still disappointing. That would have made quite a fun little fieldtrip to wander from cell to cell like a visit to the zoo and hear all the terrible stories. He was willing to bet a society of shinobi would imprison only the most interesting of characters. Without having access to his memories, however, Hashirama was worried that his reaction times might be dulled and in the event one of the prisoners managed to slip their cage or even just reach through the bars neither of them wanted to take the chance that he could be injured.

Since that idea was out of the question he settled for poking his nose in to the rest of the tower floor by floor until he had a good idea of almost everything that went on here. It was kind of Hashirama to take so much time to do this with him, actually. Eventually he would get all of his memories back and it wasn’t like there would be anything missing once the jutsu in his head faded completely so really all this learning was entirely unnecessary but Hashirama didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact he seemed to delight in showing off all the things they had built together and Madara couldn’t help but get a little swept away in the pride shining from him. There was no doubt in his mind he would feel the same pride when it all came back.

It was fairly close to dinner hour by the time he got home so Madara wasn’t surprised in the least to find Tobirama already in the kitchen with his sleeves rolled up and dinner halfway done on the stove. He took a moment to admire the sight of those delicious forearms as he strolled in and planted himself in the closest available chair.

“Are we sure that Hashirama is your brother and not mine?” he asked, about to throw his feet up on the table but stopping at a sharp look from his partner. “He sure seems to like me.”

“You may keep him if you wish. He’s quite loud. Though I feel obligated to point out that he does seem to enjoy my company as well.”

“Likes me better,” Madara teased.

Tobirama twisted around to wave a spatula at him in warning and he raised both hands in surrender.

“Did you get up to anything interesting while I was gone?” he asked instead.

“I spent a bit of time with my cousin and she showed me to my laboratory. Because apparently I have one of those. No matter how many times I told her that the jutsu can only fade with time I think she was still hoping that something in there might strike a spark and bring everything flooding back in.” Tobirama rolled his eyes but he was smiling; he must have bonded with this cousin, whoever they were, more than he was letting on.

Keeping it a secret that things were starting to come back to him felt almost naughty, a little thrill that he concealed with a quick clearing of his throat and a shift of his weight. Leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table gave him a place to fold his hands and hide his smile behind them as he watched Tobirama go back to stirring whatever he had cooking on the stove. Every line in his body spelled deadly elegance yet with his sleeves rolled up and a spot of flour on one leg of his pants he looked positively domestic. It was a side of him that he wouldn’t show to anyone he wasn’t close to and Madara couldn’t wait to discover how he’d gotten so lucky to be one of those people.

Dinner was quiet for the most part, seated on opposite sides of the table with their feet piled together underneath for warmth and maybe also as their own way of keeping close without being disgustingly overt like Hashirama was with his wife. The two of them were compatible in so many ways but this was one of the ones Madara was most grateful for. While both of them enjoyed the pleasure of each other’s presence and the grounding comfort of physical touch, neither really wanted to be completely wrapped around the other all the time. Folding their feet together during dinner or sitting close enough for their thighs to touch while they both did their own thing was plenty without being overwhelming. There was no need to sit right in each other’s laps.

Well, not all the time anyway. It was nice every once in a while.

After dinner they retired to the living room with mugs of tea and Tobirama sketched out a few seal-like designs he said had been stuck in his mind all day while Madara recounted most of what he’d gotten up to with Hashirama in the village center. From the sounds of it they were both very busy people usually, way too many things on either of their plates. When he mentioned that Tobirama gave him a wry look and muttered that maybe they should keep it a secret when everything came back to them and extend their pseudo-vacation. Madara very carefully changed the subject.

He went to bed that night in high spirits. Overall the day had been fun and relaxing, an adventure without leaving the safety of home territory, and such a calm evening had been the perfect end to it all. Crawling underneath the covers and curling up with Tobirama’s hand in his own was the cherry on top. Madara fell asleep with a smile on his face ready to dream.

And dream he did. He dreamed of Tobirama in what looked like the office he’d been told was his own, arms crossed and expression pinched. Unlike the hazy quality of most dreams this felt crystal clear in the same way that his returning memories had except this was no quick flash but a detailed scene, an event, a moment relived in real time. Madara watched through his own eyes as Tobirama tossed his head in a motion filled with more attitude than any teenager could possibly hope to achieve, scoffing in the way that meant someone had just said something stupid.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. Perhaps if you just sat quietly during the next meeting and allowed your betters to speak we all might hear something that’s actually worth being said.”  

“Excuse me?” Madara heard his own voice demanding. “You cannot possibly be implying that you are my better.”

“If the shoe fits.”

“One more word and I will hit you with a shoe, Senju! How dare you! I am twice the man you are! At least I say what I mean when I have something to say instead of attacking people in their private spaces!”

Tobirama rolled his eyes. “Would you have preferred if I had torn your arguments apart in public? Because I can do that next time. I am, of course, always very happy to make a fool of you in front of others – not that you don’t already do a good job of that yourself.”

“Fuck you!” Madara could hear the rage in his own voice, feel it coursing through his body. “This world would be so much better off if you would just go find a hole to die in somewhere!”

He came awake with a strangled gasp as though for all the oxygen around him drawing one breath were an insurmountable chore. Something leaden and heavy sat on his chest as the memory he’d just lived through in his dream played on repeat again and again in his mind. As much as he wanted to pretend it was nothing more than a figment of his own imagination there was no denying what he’d just seen, how real it had felt.

Madara pushed himself up in to a sitting position, dragging the blankets along as well until the body next to him was exposed to the air as well, and turned to look back down at the man he was so sure he had always been in love with. It must have taken some time for the dream to come to him judging by the depth of the shadows around them but Tobirama’s pale skin shone like a beacon even with just the tiniest sliver of light coming through the curtains. No shadow could ever dull the sharp edge of that jaw. Despite having only just pulled air in to his lungs Madara lost it all again the moment he took in Tobirama’s peacefully sleeping face.

This was the rock he had clung to as a bastion of safety and sanity when all the rest of the world was unknown. Here was a man he had looked at and thought with perfect clarity ‘yes, I am in love with him’, a man he had spent weeks with and been perfectly happy every minute of every day. Anyone who spent even an hour with them together would have to agree that they were a wonderful match.

And yet. And yet. With one memory came another and then another and even more, a flood of all the years gone by rushing in. Madara bent his knees to rest his head against then and clutched at his temples in an effort to make sense of the jumble inside of him. Everything he’d learned and everything that he had known mixed together in a confusing mess that almost physically hurt to sort through but he forced himself to keep calm, bringing himself back to the moment that everything changed and scouring his double memories for the exact differences between them. Once he was able to breathe enough to concentrate it wasn’t all that hard to understand what had happened or to process what changed exactly.

It did break his heart. This man at his side loved him now in these moments. He had no doubt that Tobirama had experienced that same click he had when they looked at each other as double blank slates and decided that they fit together. But before that moment, every moment before that one all the way back to the very first time they met so many years before, they had hated each other to the very bone. Tobirama was not the love of his life as Madara had thought. He was the one person in this village that Madara still saw as an enemy.

The moment of clarity he’d been waiting for was here but it was nothing like he’d imagined it would be Instead of feeling reassured and happy he felt only tense and more confused than ever. Everything he’d felt for Tobirama before and all the history between them clashed directly with all the new memories and impressions he’d made since in a direct contrast he had no idea how he was going to sort out. Did he love Tobirama or did he hate him? Were they mortal enemies or were they perfect for each other? Most importantly of all, now that he gotten to know Tobirama could he go back to pretending he wanted nothing more than the enmity they had so carefully cultivated over the years? The memories he’d been waiting to get back said yes but the weeks he had spent so happily at Tobirama’s side screamed a broken-hearted no.

Madara squeezed his head a little tighter, unable to decide what to do. One part of him sneered with disgust and demanded that he leap out of this bed lest Tobirama’s skin brush his own in any way. That part of him wanted so badly to deny that he had ever set foot in his enemy’s bedroom or touched that body in any way even close to resembling intimacy. But the other part of him wanted nothing more than to lay back down and pretend that everything was fine, to live in this fantasy for just a little longer while he still had the chance.

After all, Tobirama had no way of knowing that he remembered.

It was a dangerous idea. Obviously his partner’s confusion was going to be the same when things came back to him and there was no telling when that would be – just like there was no telling which path he would choose when it did happen. This could all blow up in his face quite spectacularly. But when had Madara ever stopped to worry about the possible consequences to his own actions?

Laying back down felt more right than wrong and Madara used careful movements to squirm up against Tobirama as close as possible, covering them with the blankets again like he’d never disturbed them in the first place. He still had time. There was no need to make his decision on what to do right now and there was really no point in rocking the boat before he knew for sure which part of himself he was going to listen to. Maybe after a good sleep he would have a clearer idea of what path he wanted to take. There was nothing like the first glance of someone’s face in the early morning light to illuminate how you truly felt about them.

Madara closed his eyes and squeezed them tight, tempted to pray but unsure what he would pray for. He had already been planning to keep his recovering memory a secret. It shouldn’t be such a big deal to keep this secret instead until he could sort the mess inside his head and figure out what his heart truly wanted.

Catra’s Bachelorette Party

(T) for sultry shenanigans and innuendo - 1K - Ao3 - wife-to-be Catra discovers her new favorite Etherian tradition.

=

“It’s not my birthday.” 

Catra watches as an impossibly large chocolate cake is wheeled into the hall of Bright Moon Castle, where so many princesses have gathered in celebration that Catra has to question if princess prom has come back around again. Etherians and all their weird traditions -- it was no wonder they got the date wrong.

“Nope!” Glimmer says with a disturbing amount of excitement. “It’s your last party as Miss Catra. Hence, y’know, the cake and…” 

Glimmer holds out her arms to illustrate the lengths princesses are willing to go to for love. 

Rainbow streamers hang over the hall’s stain-glass windows, tiny foods litter immaculate tables, the music flows from kitchen to war-room, and all of the friends that had helped Catra get this far, save for one, bask in the joy of togetherness. They share stories and laugh like it was always meant to be this way. Catra still feels out of place.

“You guys really like cake, huh?” Catra drags her nail through pink icing. It’s very sweet. 

“Oh, you’re gonna love this one,” Bow winks. Hard. Catra looks to Glimmer for understanding; she hides her face and lets herself be distracted by a Sea Hawk shanty.

“I don’t get why I’m not allowed to see my wife.” Catra likes saying ‘my wife.’ Fiancée was nice, but wife? Bow likes hearing it too if the hearts in his eyes are anything to go by. 

“Aww, you miss her! It’s only for a couple of hours. Just let it remind you how much you love her! I mean, you’ve got your whole lives ahead of you now.” 

Catra rubs the back of her neck. It was... different having it acknowledged by others, but she did love Adora. More than anything. Catra smiles. She still wanted to see her.

“I wanna see her.”

Bow locks onto something behind Catra’s head. He’s really bad at being subtle. Droplets form along his brow and he nods furiously. Catra is suddenly spun around by a pair of big, meaty claws.

“WILDCAT!” Scorpia picks her up in a hug, which Catra returns, and it feels even more intense than normal. “Oh my gosh, congratulations! I am so happy for you! Look at you, smiling and laughing and I’m pretty sure you were even DANCING when I came in and--WOW--are you wearing perfume? You smell amazing!!”

“Thanks, Scorpia.” Catra blushes. Love was so freely given here. Catra tries saying something nice. “Your arms are… big… today.”

“YOU NOTICED? Yeah, the gym here has everything! And the weights don’t snap in my claws! Oh, and don’t get me started on the food. The food…!” 

Scorpia freezes up like she too had been infected by whatever disease was passing through the party-goers. She looks at those gathered in little circles of hubbub and speaks up.

“Uh, speaking of food, I think it’s time we cut the cake.” 

The virus hits Mermista, who begins ushering Frosta out of the room. 

“But I want cake!” Frosta exclaims. 

“Believe me, so do I.” Mermista groans. “But this cake isn’t for us.”

Nothing more happens. Scorpia’s eyes are panicked as sweat trails down her undercut.

“I said...” Scorpia makes a megaphone with her claws. “I THINK IT’S TIME TO CUT THE CAKE!” 

Catra hears something very muffled, and suddenly a sword shoots out from inside of the cake. A flash of light catches everyone’s attention, and, a moment later, the cake falls apart. 

Out steps She-Ra, dressed to kill. Catra, specifically.

Cake covers her body in pink and brown splotches. She wears her usual skirt-shorts, but in place of her top is a golden-white bikini. The bra of protection. She flicks her head and icing goes flying as her glorious hair starts flowing out behind her. She walks towards Catra, muscles rippling with every powerful stride, and the hall erupts into an ecstatic cheer.

Bow catches Catra in a chair, who looks up at the eight-foot First One, star-struck. She picks her jaw up off the floor and looks around for help, but all she gets are hollers of encouragement and some equally stunned princesses. Perfuma holds onto Scorpia for support, about to faint.

A large hand cups Catra’s face and tilts her chin. She’s forced to face She-Ra, whose eyes are a shimmering slate blue. She licks her lips, the room goes silent, and she speaks.

“Hey, Catra.” 

The crowd whoops and whistles; even the guards posted drop their weapons and start applauding; Catra glows red.

“A-Adora, what - you look--uh--I thought I’m not supposed to see you?”

“Adora’s not here, kitty-cat. Don’t worry, I’ll look after you.”

After one last stroke along her cheek, She-Ra pulls away and Sea Hawk turns the music up a notch, switching to a sexy techno beat that gets everyone dancing. The atmosphere changes from the opulence of a magical castle to that of a seedy dive bar in the Crimson Waste, and Catra couldn’t feel more at home.

She only has eyes for She-Ra, who rests her hands on her shoulders and sways her hips in a circle. Catra is hypnotized. She-Ra takes Catra’s hands and puts them on her; a thrust comes Catra’s way and she thinks she’s going to explode. She’s so fucking ripped and it’s complete bullshit that there are so many people around to witness this exquisite torture.

“Have a taste,” She-Ra says, holding Catra’s head by her stomach, where chocolate-glazed abs await, a debaucherous dessert. 

A chant of “do it!” goes up, but Catra doesn’t need encouraging. A long lick travels up the center-line of She-Ra’s tummy, with Catra’s tongue breaking off in various directions to gather sugar and cream, eyes never leaving Adora’s. She-Ra bites her bottom lip, losing composure for long enough to stifle a laugh and tense her belly. Catra considers it a win, and the princesses go wild.

The party only amps up from there, with drinks and grinding a-plenty as pounding bass shakes the dust from archaic architecture. Time passes and Catra only finds herself more drawn to She-Ra, especially when she dances with the others. Catra stalks her every move and, at one point, jumps at She-Ra, who instinctively catches her. 

Catra purrs affectionately, rubs her face against hers, and loves the grip around her body. It breaks through She-Ra’s defenses; she adopts Adora’s come-hither voice. Low words tempt Catra’s ears as a hand pulls at her tail.

“You want me to turn this bra into a whip?” 

Catra thinks maybe there’s something to these Etherian traditions after all. She nods meekly and finds herself carried away in big, safe arms. She casts a wink back at her friends and they look at her like she’s the luckiest woman on Etheria. She feels like it. She reaches up to give She-Ra a kiss.

“Just don’t tell my wife.”

Good Things in 2019

@theputterer and @the-strongest-stars tagged me in the awesome annual end-of-year Good Things meme! I’ve done this in 2018 & 2017 and always think it’s a fun exercise of both reflection and looking forward.

Oh boy, though, my first thought was, what even happened in 2019? (Looking at a calendar helped! It reminded me of a few things I forgot)

It’s been a Rough Year, friends. Between OCD and basically travelling almost every weekend in the latter half of 2019, I am very much ready for a new year and hopefully a new slate.

But this is about the positives!

Personal

Played a lot of Dungeons and Dragons! I am now officially in two campaigns. This year, I endeavored to recruit more women to play, including the wonderful @allatariel. I play both my beloved cleric, Maritsa (who I’ve been playing her years now) and my new character, Noara, a ranger elf with a red panda familiar (yeah, my DM let me do that for funsies, so I could get an animal sidekick but also still try out the Horizon Walker subclass). 

Speaking of red pandas, I accomplished my LIFE GOAL of meeting a red panda face-to-face. I got to feed Harriet at the Cincinnati Zoo for 30 minutes. She was adorable. 

Completed all my dental work and had a clean bill of dental health two cleanings in a row! 

Attended DC’s Around the World Embassy Day event, always fun

Attended Star Wars night at a local library, where I got to participate in a short demo/lesson on how to fence with a lightsaber!

Attended 50th Anniversary Celebration of Apollo 11 / landing on the moon (dude they projected the rocket on the Washington Monument and it looked so cool)

Returned to the NY Ren Faire and upgraded my ren faire garb

Celebrated at THREE friends’ weddings and got to catch up with old friends I hadn’t seen in awhile

Ate ice cream at the Ben & Jerry’s Factory in Vermont

Went to NYCC for the third year in a row. Got to wear 2 costumes this year: a 1920s flapper interpretation of an occamy and my Endor!Leia costume (repeat of 2017). Learned the True Pain of sewing. Created feather shawl for my occamy costume. Learned the True Pain of crafting.

Celebrated one year anniversary with hubbie down where we got married: visited the museum we got married in and actually got a chance to enjoy the exhibits, went to our favorite brunch place down there, got to check out Fleet Week and tour an aircraft carrier and uh... I think it was a missile cruiser? 

Went up to PSU for a women’s hockey game for sister’s birthday (made embarrassing HAPPY BIRTHDAY sign for the cameras); also it was an absolutely wonderful fall drive on the way up there

Got to see The Rise of Skywalker in IMAX at the Smithsonian Air & Space Center with the awesome @allatariel! (thank goodness we had each other to get through that movie lol) also got to reuse my Endor!Leia costume. I did my own braids for the first time ever! (usually my talented sister does them) They looked like braids done by a n00b, but I didn’t care because they were passable and I did them myself and that was a Big Thing for Perfectionist Me (to not just... say screw it and undo it and just. give up. but to just let them be as is)

Worked hard at therapy and self care

Got a Sleep Number bed and holy shit let me tell you. i can actually sleep now.

OH! I almost forgot!!! Started playing Assassin’s Creed! I’ve only ever really played the LEGO Star Wars and Harry Potter video games so like. This was big for me. 

Writing

Finally finished Learning Curve. TBH I was a bit shocked that this was in fact the only fic I published in 2019. What a travesty.

However! I have been writing

@allatariel & I sat down, overanalyzed You’ve Got Mail, and drafted up the outline for my in-universe AU, something I’ve been dreaming of starting for years. Have about 4300 words so far.

Just under the wire, I did manage to start my NatGeo AU, which I’ve been dreaming of since my honeymoon in Nov 2018

Started editing/revising my original young adult fantasy novel

Poked a little at my epic fantasy pirate travel novel idea

Books

I read exactly one book, Among the Red Stars, which I enjoyed. It’s about women fighter pilots in Russia in WW2. Inspired by real people.

Music

Saw Panic at the Disco! in concert. I went along with my sister. Not like a huge fan, but they put on a pretty fun show!

Saw Waitress on Broadway!! OH MY GOD. And Sara Bareilles was starring in it. Amazing. I freaking love her music (”How does she know / what a heart sounds like?” gahhh). She was so good, and the show was so good. I literally cried all the way through it just because I was so happy to be there, but also because of the content. Man.

Saw Sara Bareilles again, in concert, in Philly. I love her so much.

Television

Finished Critical Role Campaign 1! Oh man, what a ride. Gosh, I love that show. I really need to catch up in C2 now. I’ve started it but I’m only on episode 26 or 27.

I’m not sure whether I finished The Clone Wars in 2018 or 2019. I think it was early 2019. This show was amazing and this was the character development that Anakin Skywalker needed. I love Ahsoka Tano. I cannot wait for the last season.  

Finished Rebels!!! AGAIN, what a ride!!! I still love Ahsoka Tano. I also love Hera Syndulla and Sabine Wren. Sabine’s Darksaber arc was fantastic.

The Mandalorian OMG BABY YODA!!! Yes, I have succumbed to the adorableness of Baby Yoda. Most adorable SW character forever. But also just an enjoyable story in general. This, this is how you craft a story. still NOT over the darksaber omg. 

The Good Place is continuing to be good. Not as crazy about season 4, but I’m so glad they decided to limit the seasons.

Got my sister to watch Rebels!! And then even a few episodes of The Clone Wars!!! Mwahaha >) 

Finally got around to watching The Great British Bake Off, what a sweet show!

OMG I ALMOST FORGOT Anne With an E!!! Gosh what a wonderful wholesome delightful show. No I haven’t watched S3 yet because I am Lawful Good to a fault and just patiently waiting for it to come on Netflix

Film

So, I woefully neglected to mention The Aeronauts in this post about my favorite movies in the 2010s and that was a Mistake. Because I really enjoyed this one

But otherwise probably check out that list. Because I don’t go to the movies that often, actually, and anything I really loved from 2019 is most definitely listed there.

Did I meet my 2019 Goals?

Writing: Fandom

Finish Learning Curve YES

...and How to Lose a Spy in 10 Days Uh, no, not so much

Begin and complete the in-canon universe You’ve Got Mail AU YES, it is begun but no it is not complete

Try to knock out a few other projects on my 30+ SW ideas Umm, I did start / poke at a few things in addition to the YGM and NatGeo AUs, but nothing really “knocked out”

Try my hand at creating more visual fan works (like moodboards/photosets, step 1, learn proper terminology) ahahahah, no. 

Writing: Original

Query more agents for my completed original novel YIKES, No. But I wasn’t anticipating that I’d decide to heavily edit/revise my manuscript.

Actually get around to deciding which idea I want to work on next and work on it Yeah, sure, I decided. How nice of past!Liz to make this goal so reachable as “deciding” lol

Reading

Be more supportive in helping my friend run Book Club so that it can actually meet more regularly HA, oops. Book Club died, but kind of in favor of being able to start a second D&D campaign. At least that’s the trade off I’m looking at. I had some OCD-related glasses issues this year that inhibited reading a lot.

Try to read at least one book for myself outside of Book Club lol WELL the one book I read this year was not part of Book Club sooo

Goals for 2020

Writing

I’m not going to make this a completion goal, but instead...

...I’d like to just focus on creating a regular writing schedule/habit. Whatever the project, I just want to make sure I carve out significant time each week just to write. I don’t want to set a specific goal like “x hours a week” for now, but I want to make sure that I am writing each week.

To achieve that (because what are goals without maps):

If the words don’t immediately jump onto the page, then I’m going to try outlining or summarizing. I’m going to let go of overthinking how sentences are phrased, and just pretend I’m describing the story idea to a friend.

That blank page is staring at me and I’m just going to fill it with words no matter what I might think of them!

And I’m going to let everything else expand from there. And see how that works.

Edit my original manuscript

Query more agents re: original manuscript

Look into the idea of perhaps forming or joining a writer’s group for original writing oh gosh that is so scary

Other

Get back into reading

Develop a routine for working out

Eat healthier

Continue focusing on therapy goals

Get around to watching: Black Sails, Mad Max: Fury Road, Arrival

Get better at responding to things in general

Tagging: @allatariel, @magalis, @mythologicalmango, @skitzofreak, @threadsketchier, @brynnmclean, @ruby-red-inky-blue, @siachti and anyone else who sees this and wants to do it!

Happy New Year y’all!