#I cannot express how much I love lem

[kg-clark-inthedark]

ughhh replaying citizen sleeper rn and getting hit by Lem’s introduction like a freight train again.

He is thin, ragged, his work gear poorly fitting and loose. The torches of the Sidereal Horizon flicker in his eyes as he turns to you.

and

“I’m just chatting a little, Meanie. Give daddy a sec.” He turns back to you, and you suddenly notice how tired he looks. “I’m not on the Havenage crew yet, but I’ll work my way in. You can do it too, friend. We have to stick together.” He smiles a little shakily, and you wonder how long he’s been working to break into the official shipyard crew.

helppp he needs to be held immediately!! maybe one day I’ll do a play through of this game where I don’t pour every resource into these two characters’ futures but today is not that day.

#I cannot express how much I love lem #idk the way they write his exhaustion as a father and an underpaid worker #and yet his humanity and hope still burns so bright #mostly for Mina but he also shares it with you #endings having to do with them always hit the hardest #citizen sleeper #lem citizen sleeper

[clockworkflicker]

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In Sickness and In Spite

3.5k words, F cold. Familiarity with the source material is not required.

Fi/re Emb/lem Thr/ee Ho/pes — platonic Hubert & Monica. Snzfic + character study. These idiot rivals begrudgingly care about each other, your honor! Cue mlm-wlw bickering. Inspired by this post about ice magic. We love a sniffly traumatized mage.

Content warnings for wartime medieval fantasy setting, referenced past imprisonment, and mess.

“Return to the eastern encampment at once, and see to it that our reserves are told to prepare for the capture of Arianrhod.”

The faintest of smiles threatens to tug at Hubert’s lips as he hands a letter off to the courier standing at attention in his quarters. His expression, which the courier might later describe as “reeking of malicious contentedness” is one that Hubert’s fellow commanders are slowly growing used to as this war drags on, but it still sends a chill down the spines of those less familiar with the man’s more dubious qualities.

“Count Bergliez is to bring his troops to Arianrhod to hold the city in our absence, do I make myself clear?”

The man’s voice is smooth as dark chocolate, and equally rich, the courier finds himself thinking as he accepts the letter from Hubert. Of course, now is no time to indulge in chocolate, nor thoughts of admiration of a man’s voice. How foolish.

“I’ll see it done.”

Hubert folds his arms and gives a subtle nod. “Good. Well then, safe travels.”

The courier leaves, and Hubert finds himself once again alone in his quarters. He considers stepping out to check in with Lady Edelgard and discuss upcoming battle plans, but he thinks better of it once he pulls the drape from the entrance to his tent and sees that the sun has already set. They’ll be marching again early in the morning, and Her Majesty is likely to be asleep (or attempting to sleep, at least) by this hour.

He lights the lantern at his desk and sets a kettle to boil for coffee. His body feels heavy after the day’s skirmish at Magdred Way, but his mind isn’t quite ready to sleep. His troops encountered those damn Agarthan mages looming between the trees at Magdred. Evidence of their continued presence in this war, pulling the strings from behind the curtains, is enough to keep him up at night — not that he’d ever admit to such a thing. Given that he’s not sleeping just yet, there’s no sense in squandering an opportunity to get some work done, so he settles down with a stack of paperwork and quill.

Outside, a chorus of crickets come alive for the night, cautiously chirping along with the smoky early-autumn breeze and the occasional chatter from other commanders and soldiers passing by. After some time, the sound of a harsh sneeze pierces the white noise. Hubert casts a slow glance to his tent’s entrance. It sounded close by, but no one’s immediately outside the tent. He sets the distraction aside and returns to the list of provisions he was perusing.

But he can’t help but notice that the crickets’ song is punctuated by the occasional sniffle. Is that new, or has he only just noticed it now, he wonders. After a few minutes, there’s another sneeze, this one more high pitched than the last, followed by a slow, laden groan. It’s a familiar groan, he realizes. He knows exactly who it belongs to.

Unlike Monica von Ochs, Hubert does not possess a perfect memory. But given the frequency with which the woman expresses irritation around him, he would be remiss not to recognize the sound of her grumbling.

Her tent isn’t far from his. “I’m Her Majesty’s vassal just as much as you are,” Monica had insisted when they’d been setting up their base camp last week. “If she has need of me, I wish to be prepared and nearby.”

While Hubert finds her near-constant presence and general lack of composure to be somewhat grating, he certainly cannot complain about the woman’s dedication. Monica is, above all else, a valuable asset to the army and confidant to Her Majesty.

The kettle boils. He sets his quill aside and finds the coffee grounds he’d packed in his satchel. His eyes fall on the Almyran pine tea blend he keeps handy next to his stash of coffee grounds — a provision should he find a spare moment to enjoy a warm beverage with Ferdinand.

Hubert briefly regards the pine needles. Certainly not the ideal tea for a cold, and he can’t imagine his neighbor would particularly want his company. And yet...

~~~

There’s ice in her veins and haze clouding her head, and that’s really all there is to say on the matter. She sits at her desk, bundled up in her cloak with a quill and stack of paperwork. The flickering light from her lantern blurs her vision, eyes half-lidded and threatening to grow too rheumy to make out the words.

Not that it matters much. The chill gnawing at her bones from the inside out is enough of a distraction on its own that Monica finds herself wholly unable to make a dent in the status report she’s meant to have on Her Majesty’s desk by tomorrow morning.

She sniffles in irritation. She’d managed to doze off immediately after returning from Magdred this afternoon, but sleep held little respite. After a few hours of tossing and turning, she’d gasped awake, shivering with ire and cold sweat, unpleasant memories distorted by the whims of her feverish subconscious still vivid in her mind. With some effort, Monica had forced herself upright, shakily grasping the glass of water beside her bed and taking a drink.

She’s never forgotten what it’s like to be locked up in a cell — how could she? They say time heals all wounds, but such a thing can’t be true; not for her. While the sands of time are kind enough to erode others’ painful memories, weathering away sharp edges into manageable curves, Monica needs only close her eyes to find herself back on that cold stone floor, every detail in place, nothing forgotten. Exactly 296 stone blocks comprised the wall she had been chained to. That horrible woman’s raucous laugh, which always hit G#, no higher, no lower. The gleam of her athame, teasingly pressed below Monica’s jaw with just enough force to draw a thin line of fresh blood. The warm ferrous odor intermingling with the cool musk of the dungeon and that woman’s near-intoxicating scent of patchouli, sage, and mahogany.

And knowing Her Majesty was put through something so much worse; held in a cell and poked, prodded, sliced open, then reassembled as a tool of war? It makes her blood boil.

Her head had swam from sitting up so fast; a reminder that this Goddess-forsaken fever is going to literally boil her blood if she’s not careful.

Against her better judgement, she’d lit her lantern and dragged herself to her desk to take care of some paperwork. As much as she’d love to drift back off to sleep, the thought of going back there — even if only in a dream — is more than enough to keep her wide awake for a few more hours. Normally, she’d go out for a run or a swim to clear her head and simmer down, but she frankly can’t imagine her body will comply today.

Pinching her nose with a handkerchief that has long outlived its usefulness, Monica distantly wonders what would’ve become of her in that cold dark cell, had Her Majesty not come to her aid. She’d be dead, probably. It’s a useless thought, but one that plagues her nonetheless. Her nose is no less damp when she pulls the cloth away, so she sniffles again and resigns to just cleaning herself up with the inner collar of her cloak, soft fabric feeling like sandpaper against her nostrils.

“Monica?” A low voice from outside her tent startles her back to reality. “It’s Hubert. I have a matter I’d like to discuss, if you wouldn’t mind my company at this hour.”

She hesitates. Company is the last thing she wants right now. Well, perhaps she wouldn’t mind if it was Lady Edelgard or Dorothea...

“I’ll leave you be if you’d prefer it,” Hubert continues when she doesn’t reply. “But I thought it prudent to offer some tea.”

Still no response. Hubert briefly wonders if she’s managed to fall asleep. But then a small sniffle breaks the silence, followed by the sound of shuffling blankets. Monica draws aside the thick cloth draped over her tent’s entrance, eyes tilted up to meet his. Her brow is knit in confusion, but her gaze is glassy and distant. By the look of things, it was indeed the prospect of tea that coaxed her out.

She finds Hubert stood before her, holding two cups, warm steam gently rising from both. Monica doesn’t need her sense of smell to know their contents. One black coffee — a preposterous choice of beverage at this hour — and one Almyran pine tea. It’s almost a comedic image, the way the man's usual looming presence is kneecapped by something as mundane as a warm drink.

“You keep Almyran pine needles on your person specifically for Ferdinand,” she says plainly, her voice hoarse around the edges. “Why offer them to me?”

A slight frown draws Hubert’s lips. This woman is irritatingly perceptive and straightforward, especially when it comes to relationships he would prefer she kept quiet about.

But even in the low light, he can see the exhaustion plainly written across Monica’s face; dark thumbprints pressed beneath her eyes, a glimmer of moisture sits below her pinkish nose, her pallor framed by a mess of untamed burgundy locks. Judging by the paperwork strewn about on her desk, he figures she’s been just as busy as he’s been this evening. It’s not all that cold out, but her slight frame is swallowed up in a heavy winter cloak. Despite this, she looks to be shivering a little, and Hubert makes a mental note to check later if any of her reports from this excursion will need to be rewritten due to shaky handwriting.

While Monica is objectively the shortest commander in the Adrestian army, her shrewd demeanor and prowess on the battlefield are more than enough to compensate for what she lacks in height. But for the first time in years, Hubert finds himself thinking that she just looks small.

“You’re ill,” he says, matching her matter-of-fact tone.

“Yes, and?” Her eyes narrow, unfocused, and she inhales an uneven breath, then another. She ducks to the side with a horribly gruff sneeze, snatching the collar of her cloak up to meet her face as she shudders forward with the force of it. “ihh- hheh-! hHT’CHHUHshh!”

“And tea serves the dual purpose of perhaps offering some relief while also coaxing you away from your paperwork.” Hubert gives a small sigh, still looking stoic. “I should admonish you for working late in such a state.”

She scoffs, the watery phlegm crackling in her airways making her sound far more pitiful than disdainful, much to her chagrin. Wincing, she snuffles and rubs at her nose through the fabric. When she clears her throat, it does absolutely nothing for her wrecked voice. “As if you’re not guilty of the same.”

“Unlike you, I possess the sense not to work myself sick.”

“If you say so.” Knowing the man’s work-life balance (or lack thereof), Monica finds that statement highly unlikely. If she weren't so sick, she’d call him out for it, but she can’t quite muster the energy to get worked up over it at the moment. Another chill shakes through her, and it occurs to her that she’d much rather be sitting than standing, and a warm drink really does sound nice. She swallows thickly and glances away. “Anyway, I, um, I won’t say no to tea. If you’re offering.”

“That is why I’m here, yes,” Hubert says with a hint of levity, handing her a cup.

She gratefully accepts it, the deliciously warm ceramic prickling her cold fingertips. The rising steam causes her nose to run a bit more than it already was, but she revels in its gentle heat. “You said there was something you wanted to —” she pauses to sniffle, and exhales a tired, drippy guhh. “— to discuss?”

~~~

The two sit beside a small fire, tucked away at the edge of the base camp. On any other day, Monica would have simply invited Hubert to join her in her quarters, but she can’t imagine she’d be able to keep this damn cold to herself in such a small enclosed space, so this will have to do.

“Were you unwell when we marched on Magdred this morning?” He asks, settling down on a fallen log once he’s convinced he’s fed the fire enough wood to sustain itself. The flames dance, bathing them both in a warm glow amidst the dusky woods.

She shakes her head. “What, would you expect me to delay our troops because of a sore throat? I simply did what was necessary.” Monica takes a careful sip of her tea. Swallowing hurts, but it warms her from the inside out. Although her senses are too dulled to get a good handle on the flavor, she finds the tea has a distinct, earthy quality. It reminds her of simpler days spent hunting in the mountainous woodlands scattered about inland Ochs territory.

“And last night?” Hubert raises an eyebrow.

“I thought it was just exhaustion and nerves, at that point. We’d been marching all day, after all.” Smoke from the fire makes her sinuses burn, prompting her to retreat further into her cloak with a watery sniff, almost like a turtle into its shell.  

“For someone so perceptive, you certainly posses an impressive lack of self-awareness.” He tilts his head with a slight smirk. “Perhaps if you didn’t so frequently find yourself flush with rage or affection, you wouldn’t struggle to tell apart fatigue from fever.”

She glowers. “Perhaps if you grew flush with rage every now and again, you wouldn’t have the complexion of a coffin-dweller.” Smoke catches in her throat as she speaks, completely stripping the insult of any teeth it may have had otherwise. She muffles a few weary coughs against her collar, causing a bit of mess to spill from her nose and create another dark patch on the fabric.

Hubert exhales a dry laugh. In spite of everything, it’s good to see that she’s at least well enough to quip back. “Well, there’s nothing to be done for it now. But do try to be more conscientious of your limits.”  

Monica narrows her eyes with a sniff. “I know very well how hard I can push myself, thank you.” As if to deny her claim, the irritation in her airways causes her breath to hitch. Her eyes squint shut and her face contorts into an expression somewhere between a grimace and a snarl. She snaps forward with a desperate and distressingly sick-sounding sneeze, frantically aimed at the fabric resting atop her shoulders. She’d meant to stifle, but there’s only so much one can do when attempting to restrain such a forceful sneeze hands-free. She fumbles her cup of tea, spilling a bit in the process.

“And yet I can’t help but find your form as of late to be rather... rash.” Hubert turns his eyes back to the fire, not wishing for his gaze to be a source of further embarrassment for his stricken companion.

The gesture does not go unnoticed, and she’s grateful for it. The space between her nose and lips is slick, and a string of glistening mess dangles precariously from her septum to her cloak before falling against her chest. She instinctively snuffles, and immediately regrets doing so, as it produces a horribly soupy sound and reignites the burning itch. She hastily sets her tea aside and clutches at her collar with steepled hands, trembling with a flurry of quick, audibly damp breaths, until —

“ihheH- hH’KSSCH’ue! …hh? …hht’KSSCH’uhh!”

The second sneeze rends her throat, leaving her airways and collar absolutely drenched. With a small, exhausted groan, she allows herself just a brief moment of feeling sorry for herself before tending to her nose. She’s soaked through the fabric in her hands, and finds herself wondering if she needs to worry about running out of cloak. After finding a suitably dry spot, Monica draws a handful of cloak to her face and begins cleaning herself up. The stinging sensation of dry fabric against slick, inflamed skin makes her wince. “How so?”

“Lady Edelgard tells me you’ve had quite the talent for fire magic since you were young, and I must agree. The army would be remiss without a skilled mage such as yourself to set enemy strongholds ablaze.”

If she were alone, Monica would have blown her nose by now, but the thought of doing so in front of someone else makes her stomach twist in a knot. Clearly, if his unprompted arrival at her tent with tea is anything to go by, she's assaulted Hubert (and the rest of the camp, for that matter) with far too great a volume of sick noises as is. Goddess, she hopes Her Majesty hasn't overheard any of this. Monica settles for gently pinching her nose between the slick fabric, which does, blessedly, remove a decent amount of moisture. She gives a tired sigh, cautiously reaching down to retrieve her tea, almost afraid another sneeze will cause her drop it without warning. “What’re you getting at?”

Hubert gestures to the jet black tome strapped to her hip. “You’ve been teaching yourself ice spells recently. Why?”

“What kind of question is that?” She crinkles her nose. “Sometimes it’s more beneficial to freeze an enemy in place than set them on fire. Anyone can benefit from being more versatile.”

“Is versatility truly your reason, though? The elemental whiplash you must be giving yourself can’t be healthy.” Hubert gives her a knowing look as he raises his coffee to his lips.

Monica stares at him, then looks down at her tea. Assailing an enemy with flames, followed up by an ice spell, is going to inflict more pain than fire alone. That’s her reason. It’s that simple.

“We’ve recently been fighting more of the people who imprisoned Her Majesty and me. The dark mages at Magdred, for example. I...” she pauses with a sharp sniffle, frustrated with this cold, frustrated with Hubert for prompting her to confront one of her more wicked impulses at a time like this, frustrated with herself for being such a deeply bitter person. “I want it to hurt.”

Hubert remains silent and his expression unreadable, much to Monica’s annoyance. She presumes that his lack of reaction means she’s just confirmed something he was already aware of. Goddess, she hates how he seems to know her vices better than she knows them herself.

Finally, he speaks. “I understand.” His voice is low and surprisingly sincere. “Not a day goes by that I don’t lament my failure to protect Her Majesty when it mattered most.”

‘I understand’ is a bit of an unspoken compromise between two people who will never truly see eye to eye. Their ire for Edelgard’s captors is not equivalent, and they both know it. Hubert is cold and calculating, more than able to channel his emotions into neat, underhanded tactics that will serve Her Majesty well. But for Monica, it’s a spiteful, burning hatred that hungers for vengeance. It’s selfish and cruel and everything she wishes she wasn’t.

Hubert continues. “But, for Lady Edelgard’s sake, if not your own, I ask that you don’t do this to yourself. Even the most skilled mages aren’t equipped to deal with recoil from opposing elements. I suspect you’re intimately aware of this fact.”

He’s not wrong, Monica must admit. Ice magic has a way of chilling its caster to the bone, and alternating between fire and ice always leaves her a sniffly mess. It’s caused easily-ignored colds to turn debilitating more times than she’d care to let on. She doesn’t know what to say. She hadn’t expected anyone, let alone Hubert, of all people, to care.

Before she can fully sort out her thoughts, a familiar burning sensation bristles at her sinuses. Her mouth hangs slightly open in uncertainty, brow furrowed, and a small, wavering breath sifts through her teeth. Monica teeters on the precipice for just a moment. Watery mucus drips down one flared nostril, then the other, pooling above her lip. She dares not sniffle, or else —

“ihhh-? hehh- hED’SSHuuh!”

She ducks to the side and clings desperately to her teacup as a half-stifled shivery sneeze seizes her, sending another unfortunate deluge of soupy mess down her face. Goddess, she’s tired. “snndffl. ghuhh. You could say that.”

Once again, she sets aside her tea and takes to tending to her nose. “Look, Hubert, I appreciate the concernd, but I...” she trails off with a congested groan and shakes her head. “I don’t know.”

“Far be it from me to lecture you,” Hubert says, standing from his seat on the log and turning to leave, “but destroying yourself won’t change the past.”

“Where are you going?” Monica looks up at him, confused.

“To fetch my kettle. You’re still shaking, and have just about spilled the last of the tea.”

Pulling her cloak a little tighter around herself, she watches him walk back to his tent. She thinks that perhaps, just this once, he might have a point.

#y'alllllll it's finally FINALLY done!!!!!! #i've been working on this since late july and it went through like three rewrites so I Am Thrilled To Be Done. happy sicktember! #monnie is one of the worst written characters ive ever seen in a video game #she had so much potential to be interesting and the breadcrumbs are certainly there but GOD #the writers hecked the fuck up #thankfully i know how to write her Correctly #the devs just straight up handed us a canon lesbian and said #'she's horribly traumatized and has a ton of ugly emotions simmering below the surface but we're not going to address any of that' #anyway i had a great time writing about these two. monica is just So Much and hubert is hubert [affectionate] #also this has almost nothing to do with this particular fic but you can't tell me that monica doesnt fuck a sneeze okay #the sky is blue. capitalism sucks. mon/ica von o/chs is a sneezefucker. these are immutable truths #the fact that she canonically has a running tally of how many times edel/gard has expressed concern for her health is proof enough #(i looked it up. the tally is at 208 at the time of the cutscene she mentions it) #this woman is unhinged we love to see it #i'd also point to her love for tea (and making tea for edel/gard) if it weren't for the fact that 90% of the cast loves tea #'oh lady edelgard! it's chilly out! would you like some tea? a coat?' girl. honey. i know what you are. #th/ree hou/ses and th/ree ho/pes are such funny games. these bitches really do just swing swords and drink tea all day long #my art #my writing #btw this isn't beta'd so if you see a typo or something that makes no sense please PLEASE tell me

[mindibindi]

Beyond disappointed in Ted Lasso. What were they thinking?!

The writing is a complete betrayal and insult to Rebecca’s character and Hannah’s skills as they’re being seriously underused. It’s also insulting Sam’s character.

Hoping someone pulls Rebecca’s head out of her ass tbh. Sam shouldn’t be getting caught in the crossfire of her looking for romance. I know he showed up at her doorstep but she still should’ve turned him away, and not even messaged him in the first place.

Hey, I'm with you, Anon, though we do seem to be in the minority. Sam is definitely not blameless here, he is also in the wrong. But if one of them is more in the wrong, it is Rebecca. I can't speak to whether her head has left her arse as yet because I have quit watching (at least for now). I hear she called it off with Sam in the most recent ep, though not because of any major crisis of conscience or because anyone in her inner circle expressed any reasonable reservations in response to her bad behaviour. And to be honest, I'm not sure we should need to hope and pray that Rebecca's precocious god-daughter, her slimy ex-husband, or the brutal British press will act as a moral compass on this ill-advised relationship. Both Rupert and the press have been set up to some extent as the villains of the piece. And a 14 year old should never have to school her elders on what is and isn't acceptable. Nora's needs have already been neglected by Rebecca for far too long.

If a moral position is to be taken on this, it needs to be taken by the show (because stance matters) and/or by its characters. But the show has for the most part depicted this relationship as ill-advised but ultimately hot, sweet, funny and romantic. As for the characters themselves, Sam has shown at least once that he has some moral backbone but seems to be adorably clueless when it comes to fucking his boss who keeps trying to set boundaries with him. Meanwhile, Rebecca's whole arc in s1 was about learning not to misuse her power for her own selfish ends. In season one, she misused her power within the club in order to exact revenge. In season 2, we have seen her misuse her sexual power, though I still cannot see to what end. I'm a bit at a loss as to what exactly she gets out of this 'relationship' but then I'm a grown woman so I have absolutely no interest in sleeping with a Harry Potter enthusiast barely out of his teens. I couldn't think of anything less sexy and more ick. I was certainly hoping for better character development for her this season.

As to what the writers were thinking, obviously I was not in the writer's room, but I would guess that they were thinking that any drama is good drama, people are stupid and fan devotion will trump any meaningful critique. In other words, they were thinking exactly how every other television writer thinks, despite the fact that this show posited itself as 'not like other TV shows'. This, to me, is where the blame really lies. Not with the characters or with the actors who are doing their best to sell this ludicrous turn of events. It must be noted, however, that both actors were completely blindsided by this relationship that had supposedly been so cleverly foreshadowed. Newsflash: if the people actually living these stories did not see this coming then you haven't foreshadowed shit. Sure, there were a handful of people that paired Rebecca with Sam but this does not constitute proof either. Fans have free-range to imagine and re-imagine characters. In some cases this may extend to imagining relationships between characters who have barely, if ever, interacted. There may be little to no evidence that these characters have even clocked each other's existence and some fans will still ship it. The existence of a handful of shippers does not legitimise such a problematic and divisive plotline making it onscreen.

But wait!, you might argue, this may not be a case of a popular show seeing just how far they can stretch fan devotion. This may not be a case of fan service to a handful of shippers. After all, the creators mapped out the entire three-season arc of Ted Lasso before they even pitched it to Apple. This was their brilliant plan all along! To which I would say: then maybe they should've rethought their second act based on people's strong reactions to their first. Ted Lasso was touted as the show we all needed in 2020. The writers and creators have all marveled at the chord it struck considering it was conceived prior to the pandemic and all the chaos it wrought. And while there is something to be said for having/sticking to a creative vision, there is also something to be said for being flexible and responsive to your audience and the cultural zeitgeist with which you're engaged. Season 1 of Ted Lasso told its story so gently, without creating distrust, division or unnecessary anxiety. It did not treat its audience like a gaggle of stupid lemmings to be led over a succession of narrative cliffs. THIS is what I mean when I say the show has broken with its brand. And look, this whole dark forest thing would be okay if the narrative arc was as well-crafted as s1. Season 1 gave us meaning, cohesion, comfort, sense in a senseless time. It was an almost perfectly crafted season of television. And I kept the faith for 6 episodes, despite the first half of s2 being pretty damn wobbly. But the follow-up to this stellar debut has been less than extraordinary so yeah, perhaps they should've thought a little harder about what made s1 so special before throwing it all out the window.

But wait!, I hear the faithful say, you don't know how things will pan out yet! Wait until the season is over and everything will make sense! But -- wearily and once again, I say -- we should not need to wait until the end of the season to understand what the hell is happening. By this point (over halfway through the season and show) we should have a v clear idea of the show's themes and the characters' arcs. And tbf, from what I can tell there are some fab things happening in other aspects of the show that I wish I could watch and enjoy. But my biggest fear at this point is that they are going to use Sam to solve Rebecca's childlessness. That, like Rupert (because the parallel cannot be avoided), she will become pregnant with a young fling and the show's attitude to this relationship will ultimately be: oh well, it was a bad idea and didn't work out for them but it was all for the best in the end cos who can be mad about a cute lil baaaayyybbbeeee??!! If they do go down this path then I will definitely be abstaining from the rest of the show. I will simply recall my repeated viewings of s1 with fondness tinged with regret at just how badly they fucked up a good thing.

Ultimately, Anon, I think this may be a case of there simply not being a diverse enough perspective in the writer's room. I am not saying that every single woman or every single person of colour will necessarily object to this relationship. I am simply saying that women and people of colour will be more sensitive to the issues of gender and race that are relevant here but that have not been fully or sensitively acknowledged in the writing of this plotline. Neither am I saying that Rebecca is the first woman to sleep with a man much (much, much, MUCH) younger than herself or indulge in an ill-advised relationship. But the comparison with Rupert both works here and doesn't because Rebecca is not being written like a white woman, she is being written like a white man. Realistically, only a white man can engage in this kind of hugely imbalanced relationship seemingly without any major moral qualms or societal ramifications. Not to put too fine a point on it, but this kind of relationship is reserved for all the Bills and Joes and Brendans and Jasons out there -- not for the Rebeccas and definitely not for the Sams. We are way beyond the point in feminism where we believe that liberation is simply the right for a white woman to behave as badly as a white man. The truth is that whatever wealth, power and privilege Rebecca has, the rules are different for men and women. She will not be treated the same as Rupert if and when this affair is uncovered. She will be treated far more savagely than Rupert ever was and Sam will be treated far more savagely than Bex was. This is not an argument for the equal treatment of these two relationships. It is an argument against how the relationship between Rebecca and Sam has been envisaged, i.e. through the wrong perspective. In writing from a 'neutral' white male pov, the show has invisiblised all the many issues activated by this storyline and revealed a blindspot that was always there.

As much as I loved and still love season 1 of this show, it has definite blindspots when it comes to representations of race and gender. There are at least two moments in s1 that stand out for me as being so obviously written by a man. Not necessarily because of what they do but because of what they don't do: what is missed, absent, unacknowledged. I was willing to overlook such minor failings in a debut season for many reasons. But s2 seems to have exacerbated these minor flaws rather than correcting them. And here I can't help thinking of Tina Fey speaking of the diversification of the writer's room at SNL during her tenure as co-headwriter. This notoriously male-dominated environment only began to shift and produce better work when a greater diversity of minds, voices and persepectives was allowed in the room. In this richer environment, she notes, different jokes played differently. Different sketches made it to air. Different perspectives were represented and different performers were celebrated. I can't help wondering if this plotline would have made it to air if there had been a female writer, a writer of colour or both further up the chain of command to challenge the ideas of the straight white dudes in charge.

One of the reasons I didn't think Ted Lasso was for me was that it centred a straight, white, cis-het, able-bodied man who rose to a position he didn't earn. That is just not a pov I would normally choose for myself, especially now that there is such a rich array of alternative perspectives through which to view the world. But I think the show won a lot of females fans with its first season largely due to its portrayal of Rebecca. She is the first person we meet. She is arguably the protagonist of s1. And while she would have been figured as a villain in previous pieces, the show never took that stance with her (because again, stance matters). Other elements like the depiction of female friendships, all centred around Rebecca, made this show female-friendly viewing. But imo, the major reason this show won over female fans (this one, at least) is because, in this post-MeToo, post-TimesUp era, it stood up and said: domestic violence is not okay, we stand with women and all victims of abuse, we will defend you, we know words can hurt, we know it can happen to anyone, we know all about toxic masculinity, we do not take this lightly and we will support you in your healing. Needless to say, this is how women hope men will act when they speak of their most difficult experiences but it is not how they always do.

The shift away from Rebecca this season has however meant that the white male experience is more centred than it was in s1. Rebecca's journey to recovery, health and happiness has been trivialised and sidelined, reduced to a highly questionable sexcapade. Meanwhile, we get overwrought manpain at every turn. We get Beard wandering around London (no, I haven't seen it and no, I don't need to. We've all been raised on white dudes thinking they're genuises when they have a figurative wank all over our screens). We get NO queer represention at all. And the only other female characters on screen are in care/service roles to men. The father/son, mentoring and toxic masculinity themes are all still there but they're no longer balanced out by ANY other competing perspective. One of the reasons I was okay with Ted failing upwards in s1 was that he used his power and privilege to lift up others. He was the one in service. He used his enormous privilege for good, as anyone with such privilege must. (Admittedly, it could be argued that this is just another version of a white savior narrative).

My point here is that I'm not sure that peeking behind the mask at the sad clown is as revolutionary as some might believe. We love it because it's familiar. But this is a narrative with a long and problematic history. Do I believe in tearing down toxic masculinity in all its forms? You bet. Do I believe that patriarchy traumatises men as well as women and every other minority in existence? I mean...nowhere near as much, but absolutely. Do I believe in men expressing their feelings and going to therapy? Wholeheartedly. But I am also aware that 100 or so years ago, we were in a very similar place with our narratives. Everyone is looking for a recapitulation of modernism and frankly, this might be an indicator of just that. Whenever women and people of colour have demanded rights and recognition, there has always been a resurgence of tales about just how frickin' hard it is to be a white man. Minority genders and non-white people have never in western history been as visible or vocal as they are now. So forgive me (or don't, I don't care) if I critique a show not only for centering fathers, sons, boys and men but for blindly and boldly writing one of its only female characters and one of its only black characters as if their gender and race just do not exist. There are many other power differentials at play in this relationship, including age, experience, wealth and position, but race and gender are the two that patriarchy is most invested in invisiblising. So I don't care how brilliant they think they are, I will not trust the writing of a bunch of white dudes trying to tell me that race and gender are irrelevant.

#ted lasso #rebecca welton #sam obisanya #ask #yeah this one got out of hand

[badger-writes]

Star Wars OC Ship Week 2021 - “for light and love”

6 - Milestones (First Kiss)

The Jedi Temple, as a general rule, was always humming with activity. As the sun set overhead and the light of faraway stars illuminated the night, the Temple’s diurnal residents would pass into sleep, and their nocturnal fellows would wake. Thus did most days on Coruscant pass for the Jedi - but there came times, scant minutes and hours between the changing of its custodians, where the harmonious bustling which characterized the domain of the Jedi fell silent, and the whole complex itself seemed to fall into a kind of hollow slumber.

It was within one of these slices of pristine, unshared time that Kelto Lem found himself drawn to the meditation hall which housed the Kyber Arch.

Why, he could not say - he had not seen the Arch for many years, not since he was a youngling. He respected its significance, internalized its meaning, but it had never held any special or personal gravity for himself. It had always been too much of an open space, he’d thought, most of the time with too many people there to properly meditate - and it was difficult to focus properly sitting at the foot of a monument to Jedi lost.

So what was he doing here now, at this early hour? Why had he been struck with the compulsion to visit it when all others were asleep? He stood at the door to its hall and puzzled over the answers, grappling with uncertainty.

Was it the work of the Force? Had it brought him here? Had he ... lost his way, somehow? Committed some minor sin of ingratitude or dismissal to the price for peace the Light had paid? Wandered astray from the path in some other matter? And was this some test, then - a chance for the penitent adrift to find absolution?

Was it because of his feelings for Sskeer?

Belatedly, Kelto realized there was someone beside him. Someone tall, and stocky, and looking at him with an expression somewhere between ‘mildly cross’ and ‘quietly concerned’.

“Healer Lem,” Sskeer said, by way of greeting.

“Oh,” said Kelto, turning. “Hello.” Speak of the devil, he thought.

“You’re up early,” the Trandoshan noted.

“Oh… yeah. Couldn’t get to sleep.” He shrugs, looking off to one side. “Happens.”

Sskeer hummed. “Do you often go this far from your chambers on nights like this?”

“I dunno,” the Rodian shrugged again. “Do you?”

The Guardian cocked a brow. The corner of his mouth tugged to one side.

“Not often,” he replied.

“I’ll bet,” Kelto mumbled, on account of having nothing better to say.

His eyes were drawn back to the door as though magnetized. He scratched the side of his head, the pom of his topknot bobbling in kind. Having Sskeer here had done nothing to reduce his uncertainty; if anything, now he felt foolish for being here at all.

But Sskeer was looking at the door, too, arms crossed and jaw set.

“It calls to you, too,” he observed finally.

Kelto’s hands found each other hanging at the level of his hips; hesitantly, he clasped one over the other. “Y-you think so?”

“Search your feelings. We are meant to be here.”

“Both of us? Now? ...Together?”

“It is... unusual,” he admitted, voice softening. “But yes. I am certain.”

“But why?”

Sskeer exhaled slowly through his nose. “I don’t know.”

His arms were crossed pretty hard, Kelto noticed - the claws of his fingers digging into the roughspun of his sleeves. His teeth ground slowly, imperceptibly, against each other.

“You nervous, too?” he asked.

“Confronting fear is the destiny of a Jedi.”

“That’s just rhetoric. Isn’t that what you always say? Jedi are supposed to act, right?”

Sskeer gave Kelto a sidelong look. His mouth tugged to the side again in an almost-smile - and stayed there.

“So… let’s go in, I guess.” Kelto shrugged. “After all, it’s only the Kyber Arch. What’s it gonna do, fall on us?”

At that, the Trandoshan chuffed, and stepped forward. “Let’s go find out.”

Within the white chamber behind the door stood the Kyber Arch itself - a vaulting monument to fallen Jedi, a semicircle of dull gray crystal - kyber crystals - thousands of them, reclaimed from the lightsabers of their brethren that had perished in the line of duty. With that knowledge, the grim cost of the peace of the Jedi became apparent; the Arch stood taller than either of them, than any of them. Tall enough to almost touch the atrium windows in the cavernous ceiling of the chamber that let in the day and night. And yet, for their sacrifice, something beautiful had been created - beautiful, and enduring.

An inspiring sight, to be sure - but in the dark of the very early morning, a dark on which the night could just as easily lay claim, the only thing it inspired in Sskeer and Kelto was confusion. They padded across the floor to one side of its base.

“So… we’re here,” Kelto said, mostly to Ssker but also to … the Force, maybe? He didn’t know. “What do we do now?”

“I wish I knew,” Sskeer admitted. His eyes traced the faraway edge of the semicircle, stretching high above them. “This is the first time I have been called in such a way by the Force. I am… unsure how to proceed.”

Kelto’s snout pulled to the side thoughtfully. His eyes narrowed, and joined Sskeer’s in scanning the faraway horizon the Arch cut through the ceiling.

“‘Why can no Jedi cross the Kyber Arch alone?’” he wondered.

“Hm?”

“It’s something my master told me to think about once, but I don’t think I ever cracked it. Have you heard of it before?”

“I have.”

“Maybe it’s like that,” the Rodian speculated. “Maybe we have to - I don’t know, solve it. It’s like a puzzle, or a test.”

Sskeer grunted doubtfully. “I don’t think it’s the kind of question that can be ‘solved’.”

“Well, why not?”

“Consider the question. It suggests that such a feat cannot be performed, and yet we can safely assume that it can, through persistence and the Force.”

“I mean - probably. Yeah, I could climb that. Do you think I could climb that?”

“Whether you can physically perform the task is irrelevant. It is a question without a right answer. Its point is to provoke contemplation, and through introspection, deeper understanding.” He hooked his thumbs into his belt, setting his jaw with a snort. “It’s rhetorical.” 

Kelto stared up at Sskeer, then back up at the Arch. Slowly, his head nodded up and down.

“I think I get it,” he said finally. “If there’s no single right answer, then it follows that there’s potentially hundreds of possible answers, yes?”

“It is a possibility,” Sskeer conceded.

“Okay, so… maybe we solve the test by finding an answer of our own.”

“I already have one.”

“Really?” The Rodian looked up at him slyly. “You mind letting me cheat off your paper, then?”

When Sskeer looked back at him, his face was unexpectedly somber. “I doubt you’d appreciate it..”

“...Oh,” Kelto said, deflating. “Well, okay, then.”

“And regardless, I’m sure it’s something we must discover for ourselves.”

They stood before the Arch in contemplative silence.

“...So how do we, you know… do that?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Sskeer growled. “I’m a Guardian, not a philosopher.”

“Don’t have a roth, big guy. I’m just fishing for ideas.” Kelto rubbed his chin, an act which squished his snout left and right on his face. His eyes traced the arch from its two-meters-wide foot to the tip of its curve one more time, and twice more after that. He was treating it seriously now, Sskeer could tell - and the way his brow was furrowed and his eyes were narrowed, he was apparently searching his feelings intensely.

Then Kelto paced forward and laid a palm against the surface of the monument.

It was only crystal, raw kyber, accumulated and fused together into a single piece. Smooth to the touch, jagged in places where fragments taken for blades of light had been returned to a lattice of their own kind and begun to heal back together. If he had been expecting a breakthrough to occur from mere touch, none was forthcoming.

But that was alright. He’d already had one.

“The answer’s in the question,” Kelto said slowly. “We have to do what it’s asking before we can understand its meaning.”

Sskeer thought for a moment. Then he hrrrred. “That seems logical.”

“Then… what are we waiting for? Let’s climb the Kyber Arch.”

“Were it so easy. With an audience of our peers present, we might be prevented any injury from falling; alone, we take our safety into our own hands.”

But Kelto was already wriggling out of his soft ankle-high boots. “I’ll be fine,” he said, and lifted his bare sole to show off the fine ridges of setae lining the front quarter of his foot. “Rodians are natural climbers. And if I can do it, you can, too!”

Still, Sskeer doubted. “Did you forget the question in your rush for an answer? ‘Why can no Jedi cross the Kyber Arch alone’. Not ‘with a colleague in tow’.”

“I mean - it doesn’t say we have to do it together! You can just go down to the other end and climb up that side. That’ll be fine, right?”

“That depends. Do you think the Force wants us to follow the spirit or the letter of your test?”

“Come on, Sskeer, just--” Kelto took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. When his eyes opened, they fixed Sskeer with an unusual intensity.

“Listen,” he said. “I think you might be right. Maybe the Force wanted us to come down here - both of us, at the same time. But I think I’m right, too, and we’re being put through some kind of trial. Not physically, but spiritually. I think the Force is trying to tell us something, Sskeer, and I think it’s trying to say something about us. Not ‘you and I’, but us.”

Sskeer bristled. “I wouldn’t speak so openly of such a thing,” he muttered. “Even alone.”

“I think we have to! We have to, Sskeer, because right now the Force might be already.” He looked up at the wall of crystal towering before them, running his fingers along its glassy surface. “But we won’t know until we stop dancing around it and listen. That’s all it’s asking us to do right now, Sskeer - not confess, not cut ourselves off, not… throw ourselves into hovertraffic on Level 1313. Just to listen. However we can. 

And if all it wants us to do is listen, then… shouldn’t we at least try?”

Sskeer stared at him. His lips were set in a tight line, and his claws were digging into the meat of his palms. Kelto wasn’t sure he’d heard him at all, until his eyes dipped downward and he began studying the way his toeclaws were sinking into the floormats.

“You realize it is possible we will not like what it has to say,” he said slowly.

“Of course I do.” Kelto trotted back over to stand before him. “And - we probably won’t. We both know we’ve been bending the letter of the Code to the breaking point just by having this, this … this whatever we’ve been doing, no matter what Jora says. But - if this really ends up being the end of the line - “ He gulped. “I’m ready for that conversation if you are.”

If it weren’t for his familiarity with the man, the careful grace contained in that monstrous exterior, Kelto might have missed the tremor in Sskeer’s chest when he breathed, and in his jaw beneath his grinding teeth. He felt a deep pang of empathy - and alongside it, one of guilt. He could only imagine how Sskeer himself must have been feeling.

“It’s cruel,” he finally said, voice thick. “A cruel trick of fate. I knew this moment was coming, and yet - now that I finally find myself here… I am still afraid.”

Kelto smiled gently, and wrapped one of his hands around the Trandoshan’s. “Confronting fear is the destiny of the Jedi.”

Sskeer nodded through a shaky breath. Then he squeezed his eyes shut, swallowed once - and all frustration and anxiety exhaled out of him. When he opened his eyes, they were no longer wet.

“I will go to the other end of the Kyber Arch,” he said steadily. “When I reach the summit, I will descend along your path, and you shall do the same along mine. We will climb it apart, yet together - and see if that is enough for the Force to reach us.”

“‘Apart, yet together’. I like that.”

Sskeer squeezed his hand firmly. “Be careful,” he hissed. “Should you fall - “

“You’ll catch me.”

“If I can’t-- If I don’t--”

“We’ll try again.”

The Trandoshan blinked down at the Rodian slowly. Then he chuckled forlornly. “I thought I was supposed to be the brave one of the two of us.”

“I learned from the bravest,” Kelto smiled.

Like most climbs, it got harder the further they went.

Though the Arch began at a width of two meters, it narrowed progressively towards the top, becoming only as wide as ten centimeters along its summit. The higher one climbed, therefore, the less space there would be to position, and the less cracks and outcroppings for handholds. What started as youngling’s play became no small feat of dexterity and concentration.

Kelto, for his part, was correct in his assumption; he did have the easier time of it, overall. The quirk of the Rodian physique which gifted him sticky fingers and feet made adhering to the skin of the Arch much simpler, though not necessarily a sure thing; slips were just as familiar to him as to Sskeer. The Trandoshan, for his part, had to be much more careful; if he were less patient and less respectful, he could have used the thick claws on his fingertipss and toes for crampons, brute-forcing his way up the crystal spine - but that would have been degrading to the memory of those that had gone before him, and dishonorable beyond measure. His test was one of respect as well as perseverance.

They both reached the final leaning crest of the monument at around the same time. By that point, if you leaned around the trunk of the Arch, you could see almost clear to the other side. Kelto did so, and saw Sskeer bear-hugging the Arch at about a similar latitude as himself. He waved encouragingly.

Sskeer saw this and, on account of his arms being otherwise occupied, nodded curtly in response. Then he reached up to probe for another handhold--

And the narrow edge of his sole slipped completely off the slim edge of kyber he’d been using as a perch. Shock overtook him just seconds too long for him to correct; his other foothold failed him, too, and he found himself hanging by one hand over a drop of what must have been two or three stories.

Sskeer knew if he were to recover from this angle, he’d have to dig into the crystal surface with his claws to gain enough leverage to scrabble back to safety; this was impermissible. He also knew that if he did not do so, his strength would eventually fail him and he would fall; this was simply unavoidable. So he did the only logical thing.

He let go.

Don’t do it, Kelto was pleading in his mind - but Sskeer was already falling.

The Rodian did not hesitate. Using one hand and both feet to keep him attached to the surface of the Arch, he lunged toward his friend as far as the limits of his body would allow him to, hurling the Force out through his free fingers.

Sskeer landed safely in an invisible palm, having not even descended a full two yards from the point of his fall. He stared at Kelto, almost dumbstruck - and more than a little alarmed.

Carrying Sskeer back through thin air to the surface of the Arch required diverting most of his attention from maintaining his grip, but Kelto did so gladly. The hand which cradled the Trandoshan through the Force quivered as he lifted it up, up, up- up beyond even the point at which Sskeer had originally fallen, to the level of a less sheer slope. But even as Sskeer closed the distance, his other palm began to slide on the glass of the crystal, and the toes of his feet began to lose their suction completely.

The moment Sskeer found a grip, he clung to it for all he was worth. Seeing that Kelto was sliding too, and beginning to peel away, he stretched out a hand - not quite as far - and gave him a nudge between the shoulderblades, enough to push him back flat against the Arch. Breathing shakily, Kelto recovered his grip, then pushed on.

It was a relief to finally see each other over the rim of the Kyber Arch. At the summit, at least, there was room enough to stand, albeit precariously. They climbed to their feet and walked the final paces to each other.

“We did it,” Kelto panted, grinning, as they picked their way over the last few meters. “S-star’s End, we really did it!”

Sskeer laughed, mopped his brow, and shook his head. “This is only the halfway point.”

“Well, we did the half that matters!”

“I’m sure the Force will see it that way.”

“The Force-- The Force! You-- I thought you were gonna fall--”

“Yes… and after I’d gone through all that worrying for you...” Sskeer laughed again, really laughed, at the irony of it. “Surik’s Blade, Kelto! I’m supposed to catch you!”

“You can still do that,” the healer said, giddily. “Look, I’ll just tip off the edge like this--”

He started to lean. Sskeer grabbed him by the shoulders, corrected his angle, and pulled him in close.

“Please don’t,” he grunted. “There’s a very thick line between bravery and recklessness.”

“W-well, I wouldn’t know,” Kelto said. “I was never really brave before I met you.”

“You were all along. I only helped you discover it. There’s never been a Jedi born that was a coward, Kelto, and if there was, it certainly wasn’t you.”

The Rodian giggled, flushing. “You’re just saying that because I stopped you getting splattered into space waffle batter down there.”

“It had an impact, yes.”

Kelto hummed. Being up here, at the top of the chamber, secure in Sskeer’s arms as they thrilled in their minor victory… it was nice. He wrapped his own arms around the Trandoshan’s waist; they fit there easily, like hand and glove.

“So what’d I help you discover?”

Sskeer gave a rumble. “The view from up here, mainly.”

“Oh, that’s all? No profound personal revelations you’d like to share?”

He thought for a moment. Then he said, “Perhaps one.”

Carefully, Kelto shuffled backwards half a step to look up, still keeping himself and Sskeer locked in their mutual embrace. “What?”

“A new answer.”

“That’s… vague.”

“‘Why can no Jedi cross the Kyber Arch alone’? I thought I had the answer already; you gave me one more. And I think the Force brought us here to show us they can both be true.”

“Well, don’t leave me in suspense - what’s your new answer?”

“No Jedi can cross the Arch alone - because we are never alone.”

Outside, the day finally broke, and the sun streamed in through the atrium windows.

The Kyber Arch’s ‘golden hour’ had finally struck - the point in time at which sunlight streamed through the transparent monument and refracted through the thousands of kyber crystals which made up its body, illuminating them, revealing their many splendorous colors that for most of the cycle lay dormant. A beam of sun became a trickle of hue - and then, in moments, the room filled with vibrant rainbows. The Arch twinkled and shone like a kaleidoscope beneath their bare feet. 

Sskeer and Kelto fell silent, and for a time watched the lights dance throughout the room in quiet amazement.

“It seems we passed,” Sskeer murmured thoughtfully.

Kelto stared up into his eyes, pleasant astonishment written across his face. Then he wrapped his arms around Sskeer’s neck, levered himself up on tiptoes, and kissed him. The Trandoshan wound his own arms around the Rodian’s shoulders and kissed back, just as fervently.

“I love you, Sskeer.”

“And I you, Kelto Lem.”

It was morning again in the High Republic.

#StarWarsOCShipWeek2021 #star wars #high republic #sskeer #original character #kyber arch #oc x canon #fanfic

[alittlebitgoofy]

Glass wings chapter 3 (lemonjuice)

this took a hot minute to finish but we here, huge thank you to zyan for putting up with my nonsensical writing at points and having a lot of patience. this is where the lesbianism kicks in, enjoy!

ao3 link 

Lemon shook herself, standing in her human form early in the morning wasn’t something she liked. Her body wasn’t used to this, it begged for more sleep, but she put it down to having only just woken up. Making delivery rounds once a week was a nice routine, but it was the getting up early that was painful. She got paid for selling pixie dust, albeit her own dust, so that was probably the only good part of waking up early. 

Her mind wandered as she grabbed the bottled dust, thoughts lingering on that loneliness that had seeped into her the previous night. It got the better of her sometimes, deep down the knowledge that her loneliness was her fault would eat her up given the chance. It was easier to dismiss, not give the thoughts the room to flourish and hurt, but that was easier said than done. At least today would provide some connection, delivering to people she knew, even if she was only a commodity to help their businesses they treated her well, so she could never truly know their motives. Pixies were looked down upon, that knowledge had been instilled in Lemon from an early age. It was hard hiding your identity when your business is selling pixie dust - though people just thought she had managed to trap the pixie, or that she got it voluntarily. It made Lemon more of an outcast than ever, but she felt it was better than the danger of people knowing who she was. 

Walking in her human form felt unnatural, Lemon wanted nothing more than to fly, shaking off the tiredness and reluctance that she had woken up with, but now wasn’t the time for that. Getting caught out now wasn’t an option, not when Juice was probably around somewhere, thinking she was getting up to some misdeed. 

“Lemon, what are you up to this early?” Juice appeared next to the pixie, smiling slightly at the squeak of surprise she let out. The fairy looked her over, noticing the downcast eyes and posture smaller than normal. Something was wrong. 

Juice wanted to ask her, but something told her there wouldn’t be much of a reply. Instead, she put a supportive hand on her shoulder, Lemon turning to her with a grateful look. 

“I gotta make some deliveries,” Lemon spoke somewhat meekly, her eyes not meeting Juice’s. 

“Well, do you need any help? Maybe some company?” Lemon blinked, was Juice offering this because she wasn’t opposed to being around her? The feelings that they were making progress had been ripped apart by her mind the night before but maybe there was something. She looked at Juice, eye’s hopeful, earning a smile that felt like a side of the fairy that she hadn’t gotten to see. A more human side.��

Maybe, this was her opening up ever so slightly? ---

The walk to their first stop was fairly uneventful, few words were exchanged, but Juice noted the closeness when they walked through the most populated part of the village. Lemon’s eyes were trained on the floor the minute people were in sight. She stared, eyes blank with an emotion Juice couldn’t quite make out. 

Whatever it was, it shifted as they turned on a side street. Her face got lighter, more at ease as they approached a small bakery. Juice knew it to be the one Ilona ran; she went there to get cakes with Kiara every so often, when the younger fairy insisted she needed to get out of her duties and have something nice for once. It became a rare occurence the more things came up, but Juice loved those moments, loved feeling something other than an almost suffocating responsibility.  

“Oh? Hey Lemon. You brought a friend with you today?” The woman behind the counter smiled at the pair, although she seemed to eye up Juice somewhat suspiciously. The fairy shifted nervously, something about those eyes told her that she was already getting judged and all her moves were going to be watched. It was unsettling to say the least.

“Ilona!” Lemon bounced, grinning while walking over to the blue-haired woman. They held a brief exchange that Juice couldn’t make out. Although the way Ilona’s eyes flickered from her to Lemon did nothing to resolve the nervousness she felt building. 

“Not to be rude Lem, but why is she with you? She gives off an ‘I'm better than you’ energy.” Ilona glanced at the cold looking blonde. Her face gave no clue to her emotions and it was unnerving.

“Juice? No, she’s nothing like that! She’s really sweet, just not great with people.” Lemon smiled in response. Ilona guessed from that smile that this Juice woman was to be trusted but the stoicism left her weary. 

“Wait a second, you’re a fairly frequent customer, with Kiara. You never look thrilled to be dragged here.”

Juice froze, she wanted to melt into the ground right there. Ilona’s face was suspicious, looking Juice up and down for something to clue her in on her attitude. Something didn’t add up with the kind girl Lemon spoke of and the cold, aloof air she gave off. “She likes to bring me here, saying I’ve been inside for too long. It’s not because of you, your cakes are always good.” Juice wasn’t really sure how she sounded, but judging by the tentative and soft look Lemon was giving her, her voice was probably giving all her nerves away. A hand squeezed her shoulder lightly, taking the small blonde by surprise. The pixie’s expression was enough to settle the messy feelings down.

 “Well, if Lem likes you, I can’t judge you too hard.” Ilona swatted a hand in a gesture of trying to move the subject, though her eyes still carried a scrutinising gaze. It wasn’t hard to notice the other girl’s unease, and it was easier not to get too into it.

Lemon nodded in acknowledgement before handing Ilona a bottle of pixie dust, her grin growing when handed a bag of coins. 

“Lem, don’t forget your tip!” Ilona smirked at the hyper girl, handing her a piece of cake before glancing back to Juice and handing her a second. “One for your friend too.” 

“It’s so sparkly, how did you—?” Juice questions softly voice, her voice trailing out of a strong anxiety still present. Staring at the cake. It was normal looking, apart from the way it gleamed yellow in the light.  

“Oh, that’s why Lemon makes weekly deliveries. Turns out, putting a bit of pixie dust into a cake makes it sweeter, also gives it more energy.”

Juice nodded, trying it when Lemon urged her to. She thought the pure glee on the pixies face was just her being dramatic, but the cake proved her wrong. It felt like something in it was flowing through her, flushing the lingering anxiety away and filling her with a feeling that she could only associate with Lemon.

The pixie herself felt something shoot through her at watching Juice enjoy the cake. She knew of the effects, making the person who ate it feel happier and  somewhat better overall. Watching it hit Juice was entertaining, her body loosening it’s stoic stance to a more comfortable one, her attention directed at Lemon with a small smile. 

----

“Are you following me for the other delivery I have to make? I think Pri’s a little easier to deal with than Ilona, she likes everyone, so you’ll be fine,” Lemon spoke as they walked, the twinge of concern in her tone making Juice feel something she couldn’t quite name, nor did she know if she wanted to. 

Despite being intimidated by Ilona, she held out hope that maybe the other person would be easier to deal with. There was also the part of her that screamed in protest at leaving Lemon’s side. Was it because of her job to keep an eye on the pixie? It was something to think about later.

“Yeah, I can’t trust you on your own, can I? You’d end up in some type of danger.” Lemon laughed at the response, something about that brought that feeling back but Juice pushed it to the back of her mind to deal with later. 

Entering the shop, they sawee a brunette struggling with many small bottles of various things off a shelf. She suddenly turned towards the door, dropping something with a loud clang that made Juice flinch. “Lemon! Ah, my favourite delivery girl, also the only delivery girl I know, come to think of it. You’re here just in time, I just ran out of pixie dust for the potions I need to make today.” The brunette grinned when Lemon and Juice entered, she gave off an air of being easy to get along with, and suddenly Juice began to understand it.

“Hey Pri!” Lemon beamed, the familiarity the pair clearly had was lost on the small blonde behind them. Juice watched, unsure of how to react.

“What’s my name?” “Priyanka!” The pair laughed between themselves, before Lemon noticed her the fairy looking bewildered, as did Priyanka. 

“Oh, Lem has a friend! You good? She isn’t tiring you out is she? She does that, but we love her anyway.” 

Despite wanting to respond, Juice found herself frozen. She laughed, the girl in front of her was funny but the idea of speaking was slowly fading the more she stood there. “This is Juice, she’s really sweet, but girl cannot talk to people.” Next to her, the energetic girl bounced, poking her friend teasingly during the introduction, feeling even more bubbly when she got a small smile in response.

They would have continued, pushing past the awkward introduction to some socialising before Priyanka remembered why they were there in the first place. But someone appeared from the back room, sending Juice into shock when she realised it was one of the higher up fairies from the council, Tynomi. What was she doing here?

“Pri, are you talking to yourself? What’s taking you so long?” She glanced at Priyanka, smiling slightly at the rushed look on her face, and the way she had clearly grabbed too many bottles but refused to admit it. That was when she turned to the side, noting a somewhat familiar looking girl with bright yellow hair and—

Why was Juice there?

“Tynomi? What are you doing here?” Juice blinked, seemingly reluctant to speak up but knowing she needed to, this situation would be too much to deal with if she fell too silent. “I could ask you the same question, aren’t you supposed to be on duty right now?” Tynomi eyed her up, suspicious as the other girl looked somewhat avoidant. She kept her gaze focused, eyes glancing down due to the difference in height. 

“I am, my duty right now includes being with this weirdo.” Juice poked Lemon in the shoulder lightly, leading to the pixie letting out a smirk, lightly shoving her in response.

Tynomi watched them, amazed to see the typically cold and unsociable leader so comfortable around another person. That was something to keep an eye on. 

“Ty! I’ve mentioned Lemon to you before, this is her and her friend Juice, do you two know each other?” Tynomi smiled in greeting, shaking off the mention of her knowing Juice with a small shrug. Juice herself just stared blankly, not knowing how to respond. 

“You could say that, she’s the quiet young fairy leader I was telling you about a few days ago.” She whispered the last part so only the brunette could hear before nodding at Juice. Unknowingly, the pair exchanged very similar information, only telling of a council member, not the current leader of the fairies. 

“I got your pixie dust, here you go, Pri.” Noticing the tension, Lemon switched the topic, exchanging the bottle with a grin.

“Thank you! I have a few potion orders to sort through, so I can’t chat for long, but thank you for coming today. Nice to meet you, Juice!” The brunette bid the pair goodbye, Tynomi following her wordlessly. 

“She’s nice.” Juice stood, somewhat dumbfounded at the whole interaction.

“Told you she was easy to talk to.”  Lemon was just as confused, but equally amused. The shock on Juice’s face at seeing Tynomi was amusing, but the tension left in the air made both of them want to leave as soon as possible. 

----

“Where are you going?” For what had to have been the fourth or fifth time, the fairy questioned, barely able to keep up with the energetic pixie, flying at a speed no one that small should be capable of. 

“A cool place! We’re almost there.” Lemon felt a desire to bring her new friend to her favourite place, not quite knowing why but deciding to follow her instinct. Hearing the soft complaints and questions every so often was far too amusing to pass up. “Look!” 

Lemon gestured to the scenery in front of them, seemingly untouched by anyone. It took a minute for Juice to fully take it in, watching the pixie turn into her human form, sitting beneath a tree, sheltering herself from the early afternoon sun. Her eyes shined in awe, staring up at the tree tops surrounding them before her eyes cast  downward to a small river. Uncharacteristically calm, but Juice sensed this was something she was privileged to see. 

“It’s beautiful around here,” she spoke softly, not wanting to disturb the blissful gazing of her companion. She got a nod in response, before the pixie turned to her and patted the grass next to her, staring expectantly.

Sat under a tree, in a quiet but comforting company wasn’t how Juice thought she was going to spend the day, but it was a rare moment of calmness that she knew to savour. They became rarer the more she focused on responsibilities, providing duties to the fairies. Her mind ran off, thinking of the things she had to do before the slight craving for a simpler life hit. One like Lemon, unaware of much other than her own existence, just trying to have fun and keep herself entertained. 

“You just wanted something, anything to yourself, I'm sorry I came off so strongly when we first met. You’re a really nice person, Lemon.” Juice could see the surprise and light disbelief in Lemon’s face. 

“I mean, it wasn’t just that. Part of me was thrilled for the attention, negative or positive, it was something. Living alone gets lonely, and I've never really had any family. There was one person, but—” Lemon’s voice trailed off, she wasn’t ready to reveal everything about herself. Tears pricked at her eyes just thinking about it all; she wanted nothing more than to forget half of the things she’d done, but they’d sit and haunt her like an old ghost, showing their faces when least expected. 

“I get the feeling, being alone. It’s hard, people terrify me. You’re easy to deal with, and it’s partly my job to see you a lot right now, you’re an exception, Lem. Leading is hard, you don’t get a lot of free time, the limited time I have to see my friends, or even make some, it's too hard so it left me alone.” Juice turned to Lemon, her expression a mirror of the warmth and kindness in Lemon’s eyes. They sat, quiet, taking in what the other said and only exchanging a few words. A comfortable silence enveloped the area, neither girl wanting to interrupt it or the feeling of connection that was starting to form between them.

“Juice, if you ever do feel really alone and need someone, I’ll be here for you. I like you.” Lemon’s energy shifted, her eyes brightened at the revelation of them finally connecting. Her words were soft, but clearly earnest. Something told Juice that this was something to remember, the kind of thing she’d think about in the dark moments when she felt like no one was there, the moments where her feelings were suffocating.

“Same for you, Lemon. I’ll happily keep you company any time I can.” Watching her face grow even happier, smile winding into a grin and her eyes crinkling it happiness, Juice felt an unfamiliar rush. Something flowed through her and she finally felt at peace. Something was changing, she was okay with that. She had hope, an optimistic thought that Lemon was there to stay, she would do everything to see her as happy as in that moment. 

#lemonjuice #lemon x juice #priyanka love #tynomi banks #juice boxx #lemon gives you life #lemongivesyoulife #ilona verley #prinomi #priyanka x tynomi #glass wings fic #fantasy au

[trensu]

Episode 19: The One with the Return of the Gay Yearning Death Grip, Now with More Sword!

After enduring EXTREME EMOTIONAL TRAUMA for the last THREE (3) EPISODES IN A ROW, we finally finally get an episode that has some wangxiantics again!!

I mean, they’re still gonna gut us emotionally here too but we can pretend it hurts less because of our brief wangxian moments!!!

Because this is the episode with the BURIAL MOUNDS

*cries*

Alright so golden core transfer Happened. 

Review: wwx is now weaponless, penniless, golden core-less, and alone

Except jk, he’s actually surrounded by wen flunkies, so not alone! Worse than alone!!

And we all know our beloved wwx has the survival instincts of a lemming so instead of you know, keeping his mouth shut for once in his life, he decides to mock and insult wen chao and his flunkies.

WC decides to take wwx on Evil Field Trip Part 2: Burial Mounds Edition and has wen zhuliu freaking drop-kick wwx into the cursed place

Oh, hello, Bad CGI, nice to see you again!

And here we have the Return of the Screams bc apparently wwx decided to keep the Screaming Sword of Resentment in his magic pouch??

Good thing he did, i guess?? Bc the Screams summon up some resentful energy that helps him survive the fall

We cut away a moment here to see our beloved wen sibs and we are sad bc they are locked up MOVING ON

Wwx is all alone in this awful place covered in dead things and lacking sunlight, THE EXACT OPPOSITE OF OUR PRECIOUS, LIVELY, SUNSHINE BOY

It’s terrible but we’re getting a piece of wangxian pie here (a tiny one)

So the Screams are still happening, and our wwx is collapsed on the ground not responding to any of them.

They’re all shouting “wei wuxian, wei wuxian” 

And still our precious sunshine boy lies there limp and exhausted

BUT SUDDENLY

AMIDST ALL THE SHOUTS

We hear a calm,soothing voice call “wei ying”

Wwx finally moves. He sits up and starts looking around for the source of that voice

BECAUSE THAT WAS LAN ZHAN’S VOICE

THAT WAS LAN ZHAN’S VOICE GENTLY CALLING “WEI YING” THREE TIMES

THREE!!! TIMES!!!!

And it’s so sad bc for a moment there wwx hears the voice and must think that lwj is there with him, there to rescue him!!

But he isn’t *cries* he’s not there and wwx just looks so lost and scared here *cries HARDER*

Instead of lwj, wwx finds the Screaming Sword of Resentment that legit says to him, “wwx, do you want revenge? Let’s be together.”

And, idk guys, swords that talk to you about revenge don’t seem like, the kind of swords you wanna be touching.

But wwx decides to become besties with it, i guess, and grabs it. 

The look of triumph on his face after he accepts the swords offer is really cool if you ignore how UTTERLY DISTRESSING the whole situation is

AND HERE’S THE SCENE WHERE LWJ MAKES THE MOST BADASS ENTRANCE.

YOU THOUGHT THE THING WITH THE ROOFTOP BACK IN "THE ONE WITH THE ICONIC REUNION” WAS COOL?? THIS ONE TOPS IT.

To set the scene: we’re at Qishan where Evil Summer School took place and a bunch of wen flunkies are getting drunk and bragging about their evil deeds bc why not

And then we get a shot of white shoes (boots?? Idk) slowly walking up the steps of the evil staircase

And then the camera gives us a shot at the top of the staircase and we see LWJ clad in all white in a bitchin’ new robe, slowly appear into view, rising a little more with each step he takes up the stairs and the wind is providing ambiance by swishing elegantly through his hair

As that is happening, we see the blue flash of power that shows up whenever lwj uses his guqin and it knocks the wen flunkies down on their backs BC FUCK YOU WEN FLUNKIES

We go back to lwj, and get a closer look at his face. His face is blank and hard as a stone, and he keeps going at this unhurried, unbothered pace

Bc he knows

HE KNOWS

He’s gonna get what he wants here and now, one way or another. And what he wants is information about wei ying.

CHILLS, GUYS, THIS SCENE GIVES ME CHILLS IN THE BEST WAY

THE MOST BADASS ENTRANCE IN THE SHOW

I LOVE IT SO MUCH

So after he guqin’s the wen flunkies down (and they start cowering) he towers over them all imperiously

Lwj: Kneel

(so commanding, his tone. I know at least some of you guys Felt Things at that)

(guys, I've been on ao3, I'VE SEEN YOUR TAGS, don’t try to deny it, you kinky bastards)

(It's okay, this is a no judgement zone, and lwj is looking hella sharp in his new outfit, I get it)

Lwj: where is wei ying

(so unyielding, so demanding, but not once does he raise his voice, what a BAMF)

The wen flunkie that lwj had been kinda choking with guqin magic raises his hand (lol, this isn’t a classroom pal)

Lwj: Speak.

And the wen flunkie informs him (and JC, who showed up at some point but whatev) that they dumped WWX in the Burial Mounds

Lwj, our precious darling lwj, we know he doesn’t have the most expressive of faces, right? But the way his face tilts ever so slightly downwards at the news, you can tell, you can tell, that he was hit with that sick, cold, sinking feeling in the stomach

Kneel. Where is Wei Ying. Speak. THAT'S ALL HE SAID IN THE WHOLE SCENE AND YET HE HAD EVERYONE CAPTIVATED (and Thirsty, in some cases, it's all good, it's all good)

After all that awesome, we are forced to watch wc and jj have a domestic spat of some sort AS IF WE’RE SUPPOSED TO CARE. WE’RE GONNA IGNORE IT BC FUCK THOSE GUYS

We’re back at Evil Summer School in Qishan, and we’ve got JC and LWJ doing that thing where they stare manfully at the mid-distance and talk about vaguely Feelings-related Stuff

WuJi starts playing in the background as JC tells LWJ about how WWX was supposed to meet up with him at Yiling and never showed up; i thought he went after you, he says, but maybe the wens really did dump him in the burial mounds

And the music freaking crescendos here bc some lan disciples show up with everyone’s swords but most importantly THEY HAVE SUIBIAN which they bring to lwj directly

Makes you wonder, huh. Why did they bring suibian to lwj when jc, wwx’s brother, was right there??

PROBS BC THE LAN DISCIPLES HAVE BEEN WITH LWJ AND JC THE WHOLE TIME AND REALIZED THAT LWJ IS IN LOVE WITH WWX BC WHY ELSE WOULD HE BE SEARCHING SO OBSESSIVELY

LWJ’s eyes widen just a fraction the minute he sees suibian

HIS SOULMATE’S SWORD

IT’S ALL HE HAS LEFT OF WEI YING RIGHT NOW

JUST LIKE BEFORE WHEN ALL HE HAD LEFT OF HIS HOME WAS BICHEN

STOP LEAVING LWJ WITH JUST SWORDS, LET HIM HAVE HIS LOVED ONES!!!

And god the way he GRIPS it with YEARNING.

All of his motions are still very sedate, but just the microexpressions we’re getting from him change the tone of the movements

Wang yibo - guys, idk much about any of the actors but this guy does a great job. Like, how does he make such emotional expressions when his actual face hardly moves??? WITCHCRAFT, I TELL YOU, WITCHCRAFT

Lwj tries to unsheathe the sword but here we find the Suibian has sealed itself (bc he’s a loyal sword; he aint cheating on his master with no one!)

Lwj: wei ying, where are you

Such quality Lwj Yearning™

And then we get interrupted by Plot Things again, ugh

Blah blah we’re at qinghe blah blah we meet jzx's asshole cousin and hate him blah blah

Lwj and JC show up at qinghe and interrupt jzx’s Disaster Het shenanigans (thank god)

Jiang sibs have a reunion while jzx and lwj stand awkwardly at the side

Lwj sees that display of Emotion and is like, nope, that is Too Much, i’m gonna distract myself by staring at this disembodied head hanging at the entrance

(he’s already in emotional turmoil bc his soulmate is missing, he cannot handle anything more than that!!)

Idk why by jzx decides to join him

Jzx: hey, that’s wwx’s sword! Did you…

Lwj: *Death Grips bichen AND suibian with Extra Yearning™*  

Lwj: evil summer school has been burned

SUBTLE CHANGE OF TOPIC THERE, LWJ

Also, c’mon jzx, LWJ IS NOT HERE TO TALK ABOUT OR ACKNOWLEDGE ANY MORE FEELINGS RIGHT NOW OKAY

Jzx goes off to talk about something unimportant and lwj is like phew, dodged a bullet there

Except, JUST KIDDING

Jzx: soooo, where’s wwx? I need to return his sister to him

Lwj: *stoically silent*

Lwj: *refuses to look at jzx*

Lwj: *gives off major I DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT vibes*

Jzx: *doesn’t take a hint*

Jzx: yeah, so where is he??

READ THE ROOM, JZX

Idiots, we’re surrounded by emotionally incompetent idiots

Lwj doesn’t react until he hears jyl softly gasp when jc updates her and even then, it’s only to just briefly glance in her general direction

OUR BOY IS HURTING, POOR LWJ

And now we’re back to Plot Things

Blah blah battle strategy blah blah nmj looks imposing blah blah baxia does a thing blah blah

Jzx: yeah, so we’re doing great, we just gotta take back gusu and yiling now

Lwj: I volunteer AS TRIBUTE for the mission in Yiling

Jc: dude, SAME, plz red blade master, let us go there

Nmj: uh, idk guys, that’s right next to the wen’s stronghold…

Lwj; red blade master…

Nmj: yeah, okay, fine

Wow, capitulated pretty easily there, pal. Thought you were supposed to be a tough guy, nmj…

We get a jiang sib moment

With soup, ofc

Ooooh, now we get to watch jj have a mental break AND IT’S GLORIOUS

Disembodied eyeballs!! How fun!

And that’s the end of that episode!!

Oh god, i’m so glad we finally got some wangxiantics. Like, not a lot of them, and they didn’t share screentime BUT THEY WERE STILL VERY EMOTIONAL WANGXIANTICS

THEY MISS EACH OTHER SO MUCH *SOBS*

Return to Masterpost

#WangXiantics #wangxian #the untamed #cql

[kendrixtermina]

The Recruitment Freebies: Thoughts on Sylvain and Felix

Now when it comes to recruiting characters, there are 2 who kind of stand out and are, in their own way, somewhat ‘easier’ to get.

Sylvain joins you automatically if you’re playing fem Byleth, whereas Felix actually requires high stats/abilities that no one else does but since your primary weapon is most likely going to be a sword anyways and he requires sword skill, he’s actually not so hard to collect. Given that they’re both handy units (Felix kicks butt like no tomorrow, Sylvain is pretty customizable and gets a relic early on) you’re sorta encouraged to snatch one or both.

If you’ve seen them in their original environment, you’ll easily notice why: They’re kind of the kingdom’s token cynics. 

[Longer Essay Under The Cut]

The Initial Situation

One thing that stands out right away is that the Blue Lions are one of the tightest-knit groups: The Black Eagles have sort of vaguely heard of each other because most the imperial nobility lives in the capital and the one commoner used to be famous, but that’s it, only Linhardt and Dorothea really express any regret over betraying Edelgard if they do, and their fates don’t differ that much by whatever faction they’re in - Ferdinand is certainly sad to see the Empire itself go down (see that amusing line about an ‘Adrestia-shaped hole in [his] heart’) and has a minor existential crisis when his family’s lands are confiscated after he spend his whole life preparing to rule them, but while he gets that line wondering what might have become of him if Byleth had chosen a different path, he pretty much always becomes a statesman no matter who winds up on the throne.

The Golden Deer, meanwhile, are from wildly different backgrounds and even Claude just showed up last year. If they stay together, they eventually become a tight-knit group under Claude’s leadership (except Lorenz, if Byleth’s not with them), and if you recruit em,  they will largely pursue their own interests as they were never too unified to begin with, with most of the commoners saying they were never that involved in politics, and most of the nobles acting out of self-preservation or opportunism.

By contrast, most of the Blue Lions know each other personally and will be pretty conflicted about defecting from the Kingdom if you recruit them, and it’s no wonder:

Sylvain, Felix Ingrid and Dimitri were childhood friends and all big weapons enthusiasts, Dedue has followed Dimitri everywhere he went for the last few years, Anette’s father worked for Dimitri’s, Mercedes is Anette’s BFF from magic school and while Ashe didn’t know the others before since he was a poor village kid before Lonato took him in, he becomes fast friends with the rest of them due to their shared admiration of knight stories.

So in this more idealistic and old-fashioned groups, Sylvain and Felix can be thought of as the token cynics or more independently-minded characters. This is most obvious with Felix: He sticks out like a sore thumb, vocally expresses his dislike of the others and their values and basically keeps to himself on the training grounds, and its only through the other’s doormatsey dispositions that they seem determined to ignore his hostilities and continue considering him a friend whether he wants to or not. He doesn’t fit in with the other Blue Lions at all.

Sylvain, meanwhile, doesn’t stand out that much at first glance, he seems like another fairly common character archetype in the silly childhood friends lineup and gives Ingrid plenty of cause to get into Mom Friend mode,  but the whole thing with him is that while he pretends to be a hedonistic oaf, he’s actually something of a brooding intellectual type underneath, very ‘byronic’ overall.

Ultimately, both of them are motivated by a desire for, and love of freedom. (which is probably why a lot of ppl think they’d be a compatible and interesting as a romantic couple - for all their outward difference, they have a common ‘core’ there)  Sylvain has been treated all his life like his life and power don’t really belong to himself and he desperately strains against those binds by acting out, and Felix finds his countrymen to have a bit of a grostesque lemming mentality and wants no part of that.

At the same time both show their ‘cynism’ in very different ways, and neither of them is a ‘complete’ cynic, but the areas where you find their residual idealism are also different. I would say that Felix’ cynism is more apparent, while Sylvain’s runs much deeper, but more on that later.

Though he cares little about maintaining a reputation and indeed seems to sorta seek out or get a kick out doing what his father would hate, calling himself a ‘good for nothing/scoundrel/ someone who’s going to hell’, to sorta go against that pressure to be a good kid, when it comes down to it he’s actually still pretty honorable and does actually believe in The Power Of Friendship (as noted by both Ashe and Dimitri - it’s probably why they like him) He’s inclined to be a Good Guy, he just doesn’t want the pressure that goes along with it.

It reminds me a bit of that one Fiona Apple song: “Do I wanna do right? Of course./ But Do I really wanna feel I’m forced to/  answer you?/ Hell no!”

Felix meanwhile - well. Some might say he’s tsundere, and I suppose he is, stock phrases wise, but to put it more specifically what he is is counterdependent.  Which is a word commonly used to describe that teenage behavior of always doing the exact opposite of what your parents or the mainstream do, thereby being just as influenced as a dependent person. It’s closer to being dependent than indepedent - He wants badly to be independent, but doesn’t really know how. He still very much has attachments to his father and his oldtime childhood friends, he just rejects them fiercely, because between Glenn’s death and his first deployment to Sreng, he came to see that attachment as something that will destroy him, something incompatible with self-preservation. He still dearly loves Rodrigue, Dimitri and the others, but he doesn’t want to be like them. He wants to be free, he’s a reasonable man and sees that they’re all walking off a cliff and he doesn’t wanna jump of of it, but his opposition is so absolute because some part of his kind of wants to.

At the same time he’s not entirely a complainer for complaining’s sake. Though very fighting-focussed he has his own strong code of ethics and standards- Dimitri markedly falls short of them. They’re not that different, Felix too feels the wide open wound of being still bonded and attached  to people who aren*t there anymore (”Training for a duel with a corpse”, as he puts it) - But while Dimitri let it eat his life (though there’s more complexity here of course but that would derail this into a whole different essay), Felix kinda errs on the opposite side of pushing down all attachment, but at the same time, he does it because he’s concerned with saving the ones who are still alive. That’s the point he stresses in his paralogue where he argues with his father, “We’re here to protect our subjects”. He wants to protect himself, yes, but he also wants to protect other people. He’s all about that.  He wants people to protect themselves not glorify throwing their lives away.

Which is why despite all his vocal complaining he still ultimately hangs out with the others, cannot help but worry about their wellbeing etc.  They might be negative bonds now but they’re still very much bonds.

Meanwhile, in Sylvain’s case the cynism comes not from rejection but disillusionment and distrust. He’s a good guy but his ability to form bonds is almost completely destroyed. All his life he got showered with fake conditional love while being presented with an example of what would happen if he didn’t stay in ppl’s good graces: His brother, who’d been dropped like a hot potato. I don’t think he can think of himself as good; He kinda got treated as an unfair existence the moment he came into the world.   At least if you get no love, you still have the hope that you might eventually get love. But fake love? Fake love poisons everything. It’s disgusting wrong, it’s not really for you and it just makes you wanna get rid of it by any means neccessary. Speaking from experience here.

Apart from the bonds he got with his childhood friend and those with exceptional people skills like Byleth, Mercedes and Dorothea, he doesn’t really trust anyone beyond a certain level.

But that’s a subtle distinction.

At first the most apparent difference, and the first contrast to come up in their support chain, is focus. Felix responded to the unpleasantness in his past with absolute laser focus, particularly on fighting and becoming stronger, whereas Sylvain avoids ever the appearance of focus like the plague, downplays his capabilities and chases distractions in a way that may be rather relatable to those of us who had the whole weird-ass Gifted Child Experience. Hence, Sylvain might come off as extravagant/frivolous while Felix appears disciplined, even ascetic.

This is also apparent in how its implied that they “jump ship” - Sylvain does it on a whim because of fem Byleth’s ample bosoms, (whereas man Byleth needs to impress him with reason skill which ties more into his hidden dephts) whereas with Felix it would tie into his pursuit of strenght and how he focusses on that more than anything else. Byleth stands out as a badass, so Felix juins his class or that’s his reasoning in the dialogue he gets.

But at the same time what we see here is that both were born with great natural power but don’t want that defining their lives. Sylvain downplays and refuses to use his, while Felix is determined to get straight that he actually “earned” through his harsh discipline and dedication, and vocally disavows conventional wisdom (”Crests, lineagle, knighthood... all trifles. Only strenght and skill matter”)

Post-Timeskip

So while a lot of characters like, say, Dorothea, get alot of the same dialogues in each route, others kind of get different little arcs depending on where they end up - for example if you recruit Lorenz for the empire he will at first join out of pure opportunism (that, and trying to get mercy for his corrupt-ass father), but then towards the last few months, he’ll actually come around to Edelgard’s way of thinking.

Felix is one of the characters whose dialogue differs the most by route - church & Alliance overlap a lot though with a few pointed differences, and his ending narrations are totally different depending on whether you recruited him or left him with the Kingdom. Of course, this would have to differ to an extent as he can’t exactly become Dimitri’s right hand when there’s no Dimitri, but the outcomes are starkly different to the point that even his paired endings with different characters all have two versions.

In the Kingdom route he generally succeeds his father whereas in the other routes, he typically renounces his title and becomes a mercenary unless his partner or BFF convinces him otherwise.

Unlike, say, Ferdinand, who does about the same thing regardless of who he ends up working under, for Felix the decision to ditch his classmates is a big big turning point, a choice

Sylvain by contrast has rather more similar endings wherever he goes and his dialogues are more similar - one highlight being how he has the exact same “history is written by the winners, whoever wins will say they’re right war will probably always exist...” lines regardless of whether he’s fighting for or against Edelgard. Whenever he isn’t commenting on the weather of their next destination or the general suckyness of the war, he remains mildly sceptical of whatever side he’s on, including one memorable instance where he refers to poor Hubert as “Edelgard’s idiot sidekick” and thinks they should try more negotiating, though he’s not blind to Dimitri’s flaws either when they go fight him.

Not really a big joiner or believer, this one, no illusions about how they could always be wrong, which perhaps makes it more touching how he invariably ends up becoming a peacemaker and activist after the war, basically becoming a fulltime do-gooder.

Since the inner mechanics with Felix are quite different, so are his outcomes. Sylvain’s gonna be like “I’m not optimistic but I gotta try doing the right thing”, no atter who he’s following, but you get a whole different Felix depending on what route you’re playing.

Because for him, wether to stick with Team Kingdom or not kinda represents a choice between his lingering attachment and his drive to reject that.

In the Kingdom route, he stays a lot more like he was in his academy days: Complains a lot, but still sticks with everyone to the end. He sort of fills the role of the contrarian number two, the one providing a contrastic viewpoint (while, Sylvain, while not optimistic, is no less stubborn about sticking with a friend in need than the rest of Team Kingdom)

He comes across as the Only Sane Man at times, esp. when he calls Titanic on the whole Revenge Trip to Gronder, “Iceberg ahead? ya’ll seeing the iceberg right?” but of course if you’re just complaining you’re kinda part of the problem - He muses that he must be crazy too, if he’s going along with everybody. Can’t bring himself to leave. Eventually that attachment wins out and he doesn’t even bother hiding it especially once Dimitri gets his act together. At that point he figures that the best he can do is to keep him on-course. Though they don’t go back to the same dynamic they once had, they go back to being BFF and the new dynanic is probably more useful to Dimitri as a counterpoint, they pretty much each succeed their fathers in proper Kingdom Manner and stay an A-team for the rest of their lives just like their das were. Idealism triumphs, though it’s a more matured, well-thought out one that is less about high standards and more about forgiveness/redemption.

It seems like he kinda became what he didn’t want to be early on (in the paired ending with Dimitri he even winds up in one of those chivalric tales he used to hate!), but it also looks like that made him happy. Maybe because it resolved the contradiction and tension within himself, all the energy he expends in rejecting his feelings of attachment, to like, actively not care about Dimitri.

I mean in their B support at one point he almost accidentally lapses back into Nerding Out About Swords Like Old Times - He needs to actively remind himself that he’s supposed to hate Dimitri now, and he does an even worse job at No Longer Liking the others.

Indeed when he gets what he ostensibly wanted, or rather what he wants to want, it doesn’t seem to make him all that happy - This was indeed the realization that prompted me to do this analysis. He goes full lonesome cowboy and marches off and he doesn’t sound all that happy about what he’s done, and his paired ending with Sylvain is one of the ones that makes it very obvious - In the Kingdom route, they stay Together Forever as they were in childhood, like they never got estranged at all. In the other routes it’s a sad, melancholic, darkly romantic thing about how Sylvain inherited his title, Felix came to help him out once and they never saw each other again, and Sylvain eventually gets a keepsake from Felix... and this is if you recruit them both. They get a sad enough dialogue if you grab only one and make them fight each other, but even if they run away together, essentially, they don’t become happy together.

The circumstances aren’t that different, if they still wound up in the same faction - But Felix is different.

Because he doesn’t just leave because of Byleth’s heroic charisma like many of the others - He  goes because, in essence, he is putting his pursuit of strength over his lingering attachments for his friends. To leave the kingdom means to actually become what he pretends to be. To actually become a lonewolf warrior who cares only about strenght rather than an ultimately loyal tsundere.

Which is where the above rambles about counter-dependency come to bear: He says he doesn’t care but he does, so much he can’t stop. So to take this step, which at the time seens reasonable and sane and free to him, is to cut off part of himself.

Though even here there are different gradations depending on where you recruit him to.

In the Alliance and church routes he simply jumps ship on the kingdom out of self-preservation. Sanity before Honor, just like he was always talking about. The kingdom’s in horrible shape, it can’t win, or so he sees it, Sylvain’s reasoning is pretty much the same but more resigned/sad (”There was nothing I could do”), after all for all they know, Dimitri is long dead (though Felix, always one with keen insight, suspect him to be alive a bit before he shows up)

Then Dimitri turns up alive, but promptly gets himself killed, and Felix regrets it. Every bit as much as other kingdom characters. He wonders if he could have stopped Dimitri if he’d been with him. He channels this into avenging Dimitri first on the empire and then on TWSITD, and starts using his name at this point.

Tellingly enough, he refers to the local afterlife beliefs that are so prominently featured in the Kingdom route. The ones that Rodrigue taught to both Felix and Dimitri and that likely played a role in the latter’s inability to forgive himself for all that Rodrigue is largely a good man who was a positive influence. He talks about “facing” Dimitri in the afterlife or allowing him to rest in peace much like Dimitri’s own talk about appeasing the dead - As much as he’d like to be Felix was not actually immune to his upbringing. basically he really regrets it.

The church and alliance routes differ somewhat in the dialogue before the last stage in a way that makes the church route seem “milder” - He considers working under Byleth once they become King/Queen, so he doesn’t seem quite as “lost”, whereas in the alliance route he expresses interest in dueling Nemesis. Not that far beyond his usual “must fight worthy opponents/ blood knight attude” but certainly more of an embracement of it and also very reckless, since as far as we knew the zombie horde is blazing an almost unhindered trail through the land and pretty much had Hilda’s renowned invincible brother for breakfast.

The empire route, of course, requires him to go even further - it’s one thing to evacuate a sinking ship, another to go a path where there’s a good chance that he’ll have to go against, and even fight/kill his former comrades. The game sure included tons of unique dialogue for this. You can even have his feud with his father end quite lethally, and Dimitri will even comment on it when you engage him. Ouch!

Right after the holy tomb scene most the recruitees’ dialogues are either some variation of “I’m scared but I trust you sensei” or “Now that she’s actually explained her reasoning, Edelgard’s got a point” - Felix’ is neither.

Though he’d presumably agree that Crests and Status are overrated, that’s not what he talks about. He says he wants to forge his own path, one that isn’t his father’s or Dimitri’s.  

He may or may not be doing the right thing but it’s for the wrong reason.

It’s a decision that’s perfectly logical if you feature in all factors except for his own heart - by which I don’t mean some bullshit 19th century “head vs heart” contrast but simply self-knowledge, which is necessary to make choices that you won’t regret, especially when the ‘correct’ path is ambiguous.

He wants to be free, deeply and desperate but, there’s also the counterdependency in play. He’s not going with the Empire because he wants to go with the empire, but because he wants to go against Rodrigue and Dimitri. Rejecting them to prove to himself that he can.

And turns out he can. He can cut em all down, with fairly unfazed Dialogue about how he’s going his own path, will never bow to the likes of Dimitri, will pursue strenght no matter who stands in his way etc.

They all curse him for betraying him, only Sylvain who’s not the sort to have much certainty about being right, gets more of a “sad/tragic” line about their childhood promise.

But that’s on the battlefield. Back at the monastery it’s a different matter. In this route he shows significantly LESS regret about what happens to the kingdom peeps - after all, he knew he’d be fighting them. He’s just completely embraced the ‘living to fight’ thing here and you get the sense that some other parts of his may have been lost in the process.

Ironically he says he killed more ppl than he can count and that he’s practically as bad as Dimitri now (”Your better world better be worth this”, indeed...) and while he’s completely unflinchingly resolute he’s not exactly unphased.

You can certainly understand why he’d end up as a restless sorta wandering mercenary  (interesting, too that if you pair him with Byleth they’ll go with him - interesting enough in its own right since that’s the sort of life they use to have before coming to the academy)

So I guess this could all  ultimately be seen as a parable on ‘be careful what you wish for’, or, more accurately, ‘know yourself before making wishes’.

#fire emblem three houses #fire emblem: three houses #sylvain jose gautier #felix hugo fraldarius

[skonnaris]

Books I’ve Read: 2006-2019

Alexie, Sherman - Flight

Anderson, Joan - A Second Journey

                          - An Unfinished Marriage

                          - A Walk on the Beach

                          - A Year By The Sea

Anshaw, Carol - Carry the One

Auden, W.H. - The Selected Poems of W.H. Auden

Austen, Jane - Pride and Prejudice

Bach, Richard - Jonathan Livingston Seagull

Bear, Donald R - Words Their Way

Berg, Elizabeth - Open House

Bly, Nellie - Ten Days in a Madhouse

Bradbury, Ray - Fahrenheit 451

                        - The Martian Chronicles

Brooks, David - The Road to Character

Brooks, Geraldine - Caleb’s Crossing

Brown, Dan - The Da Vinci Code

Bryson, Bill - The Lost Continent

Burnett, Frances Hodgson - The Secret Garden

Buscaglia, Leo - Bus 9 to Paradise

                         - Living, Loving & Learning

                         - Personhood

                         - Seven Stories of Christmas Love

Byrne, Rhonda - The Secret

Carlson, Richard - Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff

Carson, Rachel - The Sense of Wonder

                          - Silent Spring

Cervantes, Miguel de - Don Quixote

Cherry, Lynne - The Greek Kapok Tree

Chopin, Karen - The Awakening

Clurman, Harold - The Fervent Years: The Group Theatre & the 30s

Coelho, Paulo -  Adultery

                           The Alchemist

Conklin, Tara - The Last Romantics

Conroy, Pat - Beach Music

                    - The Death of Santini: The Story of a Father and His Son

                    - The Great Santini

                    - The Lords of Discipline

                    - The Prince of Tides

                    - The Water is Wide

Corelli, Marie - A Romance of Two Worlds

Delderfield, R.F. - To Serve Them All My Days

Dempsey, Janet - Washington’s Last Contonment: High Time for a Peace

Dewey, John - Experience and Education

Dickens, Charles - A Christmas Carol

                             - Great Expectations

                             - A Tale of Two Cities

Didion, Joan - The Year of Magical Thinking

Disraeli, Benjamin - Sybil

Doctorow, E.L. - Andrew’s Brain

                         - Ragtime

Doerr, Anthony - All the Light We Cannot See

Dreiser, Theodore - Sister Carrie 

Dyer, Wayne - Change Your Thoughts, Change Your Life

                     - The Power of Intention

                     - Your Erroneous Zones

Edwards, Kim - The Memory Keeper’s Daughter

Ellis, Joseph J. - His Excellency: George Washington

Ellison, Ralph - The Invisible Man

Emerson, Ralph Waldo - Essays and Lectures

Felkner, Donald W. - Building Positive Self Concepts

Fergus, Jim - One Thousand White Women

Flynn, Gillian - Gone Girl

Follett, Ken - Pillars of the Earth

Frank, Anne - The Diary of a Young Girl

Freud, Sigmund - The Interpretation of Dreams

Frey, James - A Million Little Pieces

Fromm, Erich - The Art of Loving

                       - Escape from Freedom

Fulghum, Robert - All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten

Fuller, Alexandra - Leaving Before the Rains Come

Garield, David - The Actors Studion: A Player’s Place

Gates, Melinda - The Moment of Lift

Gibran, Kahlil - The Prophet

Gilbert, Elizabeth - Eat, Pray, Love

                            - The Last American Man

                            - The Signature of All Things

Ginsburg, Ruth Bader - My Own Words

Girzone, Joseph F, - Joshua

                               - Joshua and the Children

Gladwell, Malcom - Blink

                              - David and Goliath

                              - Outliers

                              - The Tipping Point

                              - Talking to Strangers

Glass, Julia - Three Junes

Goodall, Jane - Reason for Hope

Goodwin, Doris Kearnes - Team of Rivals

Graham, Steve - Best Practices in Writing Instruction

Gray, John - Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus

Groom, Winston - Forrest Gump

Gruen, Sarah - Water for Elephants

Hannah, Kristin - The Great Alone

                          - The Nightingale

Harvey, Stephanie and Anne Goudvis - Strategies That Work

Hawkins, Paula - The Girl on the Train

Hedges, Chris - Empire of Illusion

Hellman, Lillian - Maybe

                         - Pentimento

Hemingway - Ernest - A Moveable Feast

Hendrix, Harville - Getting the Love You Want

Hesse, Hermann - Demian

                            - Narcissus and Goldmund

                            - Peter Camenzind

                            - Siddhartha

                            - Steppenwolf

Hilderbrand, Elin - The Beach Club

Hitchens, Christopher - God is Not Great

Hoffman, Abbie - Soon to be a Major Motion Picture 

                          - Steal This Book

Holt, John - How Children Fail

                  - How Children Learn

                 - Learning All the Time

                 - Never Too Late

Hopkins, Joseph - The American Transcendentalist

Horney, Karen - Feminine Psychology

                        - Neurosis and Human Growth

                        - The Neurotic Personality of Our Time

                        - New Ways in Psychoanalysis

                        - Our Inner Conflicts

                        - Self Analysis

Hosseini, Khaled - The Kite Runner

Hoover, John J, Leonard M. Baca, Janette K. Klingner - Why Do English Learners Struggle with Reading?

Janouch, Gustav - Conversations with Kafka

Jefferson, Thomas - Crusade Against Ignorance

Jong, Erica - Fear of Dying

Joyce, Rachel - The Love Song of Miss Queenie Hennessy

                       - The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry

Kafka, Franz - Amerika

                      - Metamophosis

                      - The Trial     

Kallos, Stephanie - Broken For You  

Kazantzakis, Nikos - Zorba the Greek

Keaton, Diane - Then Again

Kelly, Martha Hall - The Lilac Girls

Keyes, Daniel - Flowers for Algernon

King, Steven - On Writing

Kornfield, Jack - Bringing Home the Dharma

Kraft, Herbert - The Indians of Lenapehoking - The Lenape or Delaware Indians: The Original People of NJ, Southeastern New York State, Eastern Pennsylvania, Northern Delaware and Parts of Western Connecticut

Kundera, Milan - The Unbearable Lightness of Being

Lacayo, Richard - Native Son

Lamott, Anne - Bird by Bird

                         Word by Word

L’Engle, Madeleine - A Wrinkle in Time

Lahiri, Jhumpa - The Namesake

Lappe, Frances Moore - Diet for a Small Planet

Lee, Harper - To Kill a Mockingbird

Lems, Kristin et al  - Building Literacy with English Language Learners

Lewis, Sinclair - Main Street

London, Jack - The Call of the Wild

Lowry, Lois - The Giver

Mander, Jerry - Four Arguments for the Elimination of Television

Marks, John D. - The Search for the Manchurian Candidate: The CIA and Mind         Control

Martel, Yann - Life of Pi

Maslow, Abraham - The Farther Reaches of Human Nature

                              - Motivation and Personality

                              - Religions, Values, and Peak Experiences

                             - Toward a Psychology of Being                            

Maugham. W. Somerset - Of Human Bondage

                                        - Christmas Holiday

Maurier, Daphne du - Rebecca

Mayes, Frances - Under the Tuscan Sun

Mayle, Peter - A Year in Provence

McCourt, Frank - Angela’s Ashes

                          - Teacher man

McCullough, David - 1776

                                - Brave Companions

McEwan, Ian - Atonement

                      - Saturday

McLaughlin, Emma - The Nanny Diaries

McLuhan, Marshall - Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man

Meissner, Susan - The Fall of Marigolds

Millman, Dan - Way of the Peaceful Warrior

Moehringer, J.R. - The Tender Bar

Moon, Elizabeth - The Speed of Dark

Moriarty, Liane - The Husband’s Sister

                         - The Last Anniversary

                         - What Alice Forgot

Mortenson, Greg - Three Cups of Tea

Moyes, Jo Jo - One Plus One

                       - Me Before You 

Ng, Celeste - Little Fires Everywhere

Neill, A.S. - Summerhill

Noah, Trevor - Born a Crime

O’Dell, Scott - Island of the Blue Dolphins

Offerman, Nick - Gumption

O’Neill, Eugene - Long Day’s Journey Into Night

                            A Touch of the Poet

Orwell, George - Animal Farm

Owens, Delia - Where the Crawdads Sing

Paulus, Trina - Hope for the Flowers

Pausch, Randy - The Last Lecture

Patchett, Ann - The Dutch House

Peck, Scott M. - The Road Less Traveled

                         - The Road Less Traveled and Beyond

Paterson, Katherine - Bridge to Teribithia

Picoult, Jodi - My Sister’s Keeper

Pirsig, Robert - Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

Puzo, Mario - The Godfather

Quindlen, Anna - Black and Blue

Radish, Kris - Annie Freeman’s Fabulous Traveling Funeral

Redfield, James - The Celestine Prophecy

Rickert, Mary - The Memory Garden

Rogers, Carl - On Becoming a Person

Ruiz, Miguel - The Fifth Agreement

                     - The Four Agreements

                     - The Mastery of Love

Rum, Etaf - A Woman is No Man

Saint-Exupery, Antoine de - The Little Prince

Salinger, J.D. - Catcher in the Rye

Schumacher, E.F. - Small is Beautiful

Sebold, Alice - The Almost Moon

                       - The Lovely Bones

Shaffer, Mary Ann and Anne Barrows - The Gurnsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society

Shakespeare, William - Alls Well That Ends Well

                                   - Much Ado About Nothing

                                   - Romeo and Juliet

                                   - The Sonnets

                                   - The Taming of the Shrew

                                   - Twelfth Night

                                   - Two Gentlemen of Verona

Sides, Hampton - Hellhound on his Trail: The Stalking of Martin Luther King, Jr. and the International Hunt for His Assassin

Silverstein, Shel - The Giving Tree

Skinner, B.F. - About Behaviorism

Smith, Betty - A Tree Grows in Brooklyn

Snyder, Zilpha Keatley - The Velvet Room

Spinelli, Jerry - Loser

Spolin, Viola - Improvisation for the Theater

Stanislavski, Constantin - An Actor Prepares

Stedman, M.L. - The Light Between Oceans

Steinbeck, John - Travels with Charley

Steiner, Peter - The Terrorist

Stockett, Kathryn - The Help

Strayer, Cheryl - Wild

Streatfeild, Dominic - Brainwash

Strout, Elizabeth - My Name is Lucy Barton

Tartt, Donna - The Goldfinch

Taylor, Kathleen - Brainwashing: The Science of Thought Control

Thomas, Matthew - We Are Not Ourselves

Thoreau, Henry David - Walden

Tolle, Eckhart - A New Earth: Awakening to Your Life’s Purpose

                      - The Power of Now

Towles, Amor - A Gentleman in Moscow

                       - Rules of Civility

Tracey, Diane and Lesley Morrow - Lenses on Reading

Traub, Nina - Recipe for Reading

Tzu, Lao - Tao Te Ching

United States Congress - Project MKULTRA, the CIA's program of research in behavioral modification: Joint hearing before the Select Committee on Intelligence and the ... Congress, first session, August 3, 1977

Van Allsburg, Chris - Just a Dream

                                - Polar Express

                                - Sweet Dreams

                                - Stranger

                                - Two Bad Ants

Walker, Alice - The Color Purple

Waller, Robert James - Bridges of Madison County

Warren, Elizabeth - A Fighting Chance

Waugh, Evelyn - Brideshead Revisited

Weir, Andy - The Martian

Weinstein, Harvey M. - Father, Son and CIA

Welles, Rebecca - The Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood

Westover, Tara - Educated

White, E.B. - Charlotte’s Web

Wilde, Oscar - The Picture of Dorien Gray

Wolfe, Tom - I Am Charlotte Simmons

Wolitzer, Meg - The Female Persuasion

Woolf, Virginia - Mrs. Dalloway

Zevin, Gabrielle - The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry

Zusak, Marcus - The Book Thief

[doberlink]

93 fun OC asks because why not ... 

LOOONG post ahead about my shamelessly mary-sue RDR oc Camilla Beaumont (née Lemieux)

Basics:

1. What is their gender?

Camilla is a young woman.

2. What is their sexuality?

She is straight.

3. What is the meaning behind their name? Do they have any nicknames?

The name Camilla originates from the Latin term for free-born and noble. Originally her father wanted to name her Camille, but her mother decided otherwise. She goes by Millie with her older sister.

4. Do they have any siblings? How many? Are they older or younger?  Which sibling are they the closest with?

Camilla has two sisters, one a year older than her named Heidi, and another three years younger named Letitia.

5. What’s their relationship with their parents like? What about other relatives?

Camilla is close to her mother, Anastasia, but her relationship with her father, Henri, is tense. As both her parents first-generation immigrants, she does not know any other relatives.

6. What would they give their life for?

Her family and those she loves. Other than that, likely no one. Camilla is brave but she is also afraid to die.

7. Are they in a romantic relationship? With who? How did they meet?

Originally Camilla was infatuated with Lem Fike, whom she met by working with his Aunt Maggie, but when her father ordered her to return home, she lost contact with him and never saw him again. Following the death of her sister Heidi, she grew close to outlaw Arthur Morgan and the two fell in love. The two met when Arthur saved Camilla from being kidnapped by two men. Eventually, Arthur proposed and Camilla became pregnant, but Arthur died before they could marry or the baby was born. When she returned home her father arranged her to marry Edward Beaumont, the heir to his father, a wealthy bank owner. The two were around the same age and remained married, having a child of their own.

8. What do they believe will happen to them after they die? Does this belief scare them?

Raised in a religious, though not very, household, Camilla believes in heaven after death. She does not know what this entails, and so is still afraid to die. She does believe she will see her lost loved ones again.

9. What is their favorite color? Favorite animal?

Camilla’s favorite color is soft pink. Her favorite animal is a horse, specifically her Criollo, Nutmeg.

10. What are some of their talents/skills?

Camilla is a talented shooter as well as a good actress. She also has a fairly good singing voice though she does not use it often.

11. If they could make a mark on history, what would they like it to be?

Camilla loves fashion and always dreamt of owning her own clothing store, however she knows this is not a realistic possibility. Instead, she hopes to leave a mark on the world with her acting.

12. How old are they? When is their birthday?

As of the Epilogue (1907), Camilla is 26. During the events of RDR2 she was 19, and 18 in RDO. She was born on May 7, 1880.

13. What do they do for fun?

Camilla enjoys reading books or poetry, and secretly acting them out, though she is too shy to admit this.

14. What is their favorite food? How often do they get to eat it?

Camilla’s favorite meal is chyne of mutton, which she would always be served on her birthday.

15. What was something their parents taught them?

Camilla’s first language is English, however, she is also fluent in French, from her father, and German, from her mother. Even when speaking English, she has a slight French accent.

16. Are they religious?

Yes, Camilla is Catholic.

17. Where were they born?

Camilla was born in Saint Denis.

18. What languages can they speak? Where did they learn these languages?

See 15.

19. What is their occupation?

Camilla stays at home to take care of her and Edward’s children. However, she is also a well-known actress and often travels for her work.

20. Do they have any titles? How did they earn them?

Camilla does not have any titles, but she was temporarily a member of the van der Linde gang.

Personality:

21. What is their favorite thing about their personality?

Camilla takes pride in her kindness and empathy.

22. What is their least favorite thing about their personality?

She is unhappy with how easily she lets her heart rule her head.

23. Do they get lonely easily?

No, Camilla is content being by herself, but she does not like to be away from her loved ones for too long.

24. Do you know their MBTI type?

INFJ-T, the advocate.

25. What is their biggest flaw?

Camilla is very headstrong and acts on a whim, often getting her into trouble that could easily be avoided if she stopped and considered her choices.

26. Are they aware of their flaws?

Yes, Camilla’s father has made sure to remind her.

27. What is their biggest strength?

Camilla’s resiliency and positive outlook. She knows when things get tough they won’t get better unless she keeps on pushing.

28. Are they aware of their strengths?

No, it is simply her outlook on life.

29. How would they describe their own personality?

Camilla would consider herself much quieter and more soft-spoken than she would like and wishes she weren’t so headstrong and stubborn in her ways. However, she is proud of her ability to empathize with others.

30. When frightened, will they resort to “fight” or “flight”?

It all depends on the situation. However, before her time with Mrs. LeClerk and the van der Linde gang, her instinct would always have been “flight”. Now, it varies.

31. Does this character ever put somebody else’s needs before their own? Who do they do this for? How often do they do this?

Camilla will always put the needs of her loved ones before her, as it is how she was raised as a young woman coming from a more conservative household. However in a life or death situation, Camilla has no control of her instincts and while she will always do her best to protect everyone, she may resort to saving herself.

32. What is their self-esteem like?

Coming from a privileged upbringing, Camilla had a superiority complex when she was younger, but grew out of it as she aged. Now while she does think highly of herself, it is more confidence than vainness.

33. What is their biggest fear? How would they react to having to face it?

While not exactly unique, her biggest fear is death. She reacts to it on instinct.

34. How easily do they trust others with their secrets? With their lives?

With those closest to her, Camilla trusts them with anything, excepting her father. Besides him, Camilla believes that if she cannot trust them then they are not someone she wants to be close to.

35. What is the easiest way to annoy them?

Make fun of something she cannot control. For example, during her time with the van der Linde gang, Micah and Bill would make fun of her formal way of speaking, which both annoyed her and made her insecure.

36. What is their sense of humor like? Give an example of a joke they would find humorous.

Camilla’s sense of humor is never at the expense of others, but can still be funny. She often finds herself holding back laughter when she sees someone falling or spilling something, though she would never admit it.

37. How easy is it for them to say “I love you”? Do they say it without meaning it?

Camilla is not afraid to show affection to those she cares about, but she does understand the significance of the words “I love you”, and would not say them unless she truly means it. However, when she does mean it, she is not shy to say it.

38. What do others admire most about their personality?

Likely her optimistic outlook on life, and how she never allows herself to be down for long.

39. What does their happily ever after look like?

Somewhere safe and secure with her loved ones, with no fears of whether they will see another day or have enough food to eat. She believes she has found this with Edward and their children.

40. Who do they trust most? Is that trust mutual?

Camilla trusts her sisters more than anyone. She views them as her closest confidants and knows she could tell them anything.

Physical Profile:

41. What does their laugh sound like? Do they snort when they laugh? How often do they laugh?

Camilla has a soft laugh and covers her mouth when she does, so as not to be too loud. She does snort when trying to hold back her laugh.

42. What is their favorite thing about their physical appearance?

Camilla takes pride in her clothing, much of which is imported from Europe. She likes to consider herself fashionable.

43. What is their least favorite thing about their physical appearance?

Her body. She is short and thin and views herself as looking weak and sickly.

44. Do they have any scars? If so, what are the stories behind those scars?

She has a scar on her right shoulder from when she was shot during the confrontation in Blackwater with Amos Lancing.

45. How would they describe their own appearance?

Camilla would describe herself as average looking, though a bit on the frail side. Nonetheless, she is fond of her long hair. She is neither insecure nor proud of her appearance.

46. How easily can they express emotions? How easily can they hide emotions?

Camilla is good at hiding her emotions, but if she does so for too long she will reach a breaking point and it will all boil over without her control. 

47.  What’s their pain tolerance like?

Camilla can take most pain, but she will complain about even the tiniest of papercuts.

48. Do they have any tattoos? What are the stories behind those tattoos?

Nope! This is over 100 years ago! ^^

49. Do they have any piercings?

Camilla’s ears are pierced. 

50. How would you describe their style of clothing? How would they describe their style of clothing?

Influenced by her mother, Camilla is very into fashion and considers herself quite stylish. She enjoys wearing soft colors with intricate details and long skirts. Her favorite accessories are her hats and jewelry. 

51. What is their height? Weight?

Camilla is around 5′3 and weighs around 100 pounds.

52. What is their body type? Are they muscular, chubby, skinny, etc?

Camilla is smaller than average and quite thin, her least favorite quality of her appearance.

53. What is their hair color? Eye color? Skin tone?

Camilla has light blonde hair, blue eyes, and is pale with a warm-undertone.

54. What is their current hairstyle? What have been some of their past hairstyles? Which was their favorite hairstyle?

As of 1907, Camilla wears her hair pulled back in a curled bun hairstyle. When she was younger, she would rotate between a long plait, a curled ponytail, and a half-up hairstyle.

55. What is their alcohol tolerance like? What kind of drunk are they? How bad are their hangovers?

Camilla does not drink heavily, besides a glass of wine here and there. However, she did once drink heavily with the van der Linde gang and was a bubbly and excitable drunk. Her hangover the next day was enough for her to swear off heavy drinking.

56. What do they smell like? Why do they smell like this? (Is it the things they’re around or a perfume they wear?)

Camilla smells of her favorite perfume, Otto of Roses. It was the first perfume she ever received, gifted by her mother, and she has worn it since.

57. How do they feel about sex? Are they a virgin?

Camilla views sex as an intimate thing, not casual, and would only partake in it out of love, not lust. She has only had two sexual partners, Arthur and Edward. As shy as she is, she gets flustered any time sex is brought up (so imagine her around the gang members!)

58. What is their most noticeable physical attribute?

To others, it would likely be her outfits, as she always puts total effort into them.

59. What does their resting face look like? Do they have RBF?

Camilla does not have RBF! Rather she often looks curious or unsure, as she is always taking in her surroundings. She is quick to smile to strangers and always greets them on the street.

60. Describe the way they sleep.

Camilla sleeps on her side with the blanket pulled up to her chin. She cannot sleep if she is hot, and curls up into a ball if she is too cold.

Environment:

61. Which season is their favorite season?

Summer!

62. Have they ever been betrayed? How did it affect their ability to trust others?

While not technically betrayed, Camilla certainly felt so when she discovered that Arthur was working against her father, although unknowingly. When she confronted him and he argued that she should have told him, she felt hurt and like he had gone behind her back (though she later realized this was an unfair judgment).

63. What is always guaranteed to make them smile?

Someone going out of their way to make sure she is heard or welcomed to wherever she is, as Camilla often has a hard time joining or starting a conversation.

64. Do they get cold easily? Do they get overheated easily?

Camilla does not get hot easily, but she does quickly get cold. She despises the cold and will avoid it when possible.

65. What’s their immune system like? Do they get sick often? How do they react to getting sick?

Camilla is relatively healthy, however, she did used to get a severe cold each year when she was a child.

66. Where do they live? Do they like it there?

Camilla lives in Saint Denis, where she grew up. She temporarily lived with Maggie and Lem Fike, as well as at a camp with Cripps. She enjoys the city and weather of Saint Denis, and for the most part, she enjoys the people.

67. Is their bedroom messy? What about their bathroom? Kitchen? Living room?

Camilla is a very tidy person, and with the help of her house-staff, she keeps her home very neat.

68. How did their environment growing up affect their personality?

Camilla’s childhood upbringing taught her to be quiet, proper, and a ‘lady’. She followed these teachings well, but of course, her temporary run-in with a life of crime went against this.

69. How did the people in their environment growing up affect their personality?

Camilla’s mother taught her empathy and kindness, while her father taught her obedience and to be seen, not heard. Her older sister Heidi taught her to have fun and be rebellious, while her younger sister taught her curiosity.

70. How do they feel about animals? Do they have any pets?

Camilla loves animals and had a spaniel dog growing up. She speaks in a baby voice to animals, which she is embarrassed of.

71. How are they with children? Do they have any? Do they want any?

Camilla is the mother of two daughters, Margaret Beaumont (with Arthur) and Helen Beaumont (with Edward). Before she had children, Camilla loved them and dreamt of being a mother.

72.  Would they rather have stability or comfort?

Stability. Having moved from place to place quite often recently, with much-unwanted change, Camilla would find comfort from within stability.

73. Do they prefer the indoors or outdoors?

Camilla’s ideal place to be is sitting outside on a warm sunny day.

74. What weather is their favorite? Do they like storms?

Camilla loves a warm sunny day with a light breeze, and so she loves living in the South. She enjoys thunderstorms when she is inside reading by a fireplace.

75. If given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?

She would likely write a short story or poem, though the latter she is not very skilled at.

76. How organized are they?

Raised to be a ‘proper lady’, she is very tidy.

77. What is their most prized possession?

Her horse, Nutmeg.

78. Who do they consider to be their best friend?

Camilla’s former answer would have been Heidi, but since her passing, she would say Letitia.

79. What is their economic situation?

Camilla grew up in a wealthy household and has now married a wealthy husband. She is well-off and secure financially.

80. Are they a morning person or a night owl?

Morning~ she loves watching the sunrise and seeing the mist on fields. 

Miscellaneous:

81. Are they bothered by the sight of blood?

She does not get queasy or sick from the sight of it but dislikes the bad connotation that comes with it.

82. What is their handwriting like?

Elegant cursive that mirrors her mothers, whose she was always envious of.

83. Can they swim? How well? Do they like to swim?

Camilla can swim but she dislikes the feeling of being wet, especially her hair.

84. Which deadly sin do they represent best?

Pride. Camilla can often be too proud to ask for help or admit she is wrong.

85. Do they believe in ghosts?

As a child living in a big house with lots of shadows to cast, yes. Now, no.

86. How do they celebrate holidays? How do they celebrate birthdays?

A large festive dinner with family and family friends.

87. What is something they regret?

Not regaining contact with Lem after she left. He is her biggest ‘what-if’.

88. Do they have an accent?

Yes, she has a slight French accent.

89. What is their D&D alignment?

Not sure what this is!

90. Are they right or left handed?

Right handed.

91. If they were a tweet, what tweet would they be?

92. Describe them as a John Mulaney gif.

93. What’s the most iconic line of dialogue they’ve ever said?

Not really any, she’s pretty quiet! But here’s a photo of her instead.

Whew! That was fun! I don’t expect anyone to read this, but if you did... wow!

#Camilla Beaumont #Camilla Lemieux #RDR2 #RDO #Red Dead Redemption #Red Dead Redemption 2 #Arthur Morgan #Red Dead Online #Red Dead OC #RDR2 OC #Lemuel Fike #Lem Fike #Henri Lemieux #Heidi McCourt

[imagine-lumpygrab]

For the thing I ask fooor... 2 3 8 and 10. Let's hope your WiFi pulls through this time...

*inhale* This is the last fricking time I’m doing this, Tumblr has yeeted my posts of this into the void four times before and I am done with its crap.

2. Which sentence or paragraph is your favorite among those in the fics you’ve written? Why is it your favorite?

Hooo boy, a hard question! I’ve written a LOT of fics, but I generally really like the parts where characters dance or hug or are happy. If I had to pick an Adventure Time themed fic (since that IS the theme of this blog, it would be from “Pretty, pretty Lemonman” where different reincarnations of LG wear dresses:

Lemongrab pouted angrily. “Mother Princess! I demand a dress NOW!”

“You think just because you yell I’ll give you everything you want?”

“YEEEEEEEES?!”

“That’s not how it works, Lem-”

“That is uNACCEPTABLEEEEEEEEEEE–“

*

She sighed, opening the closet in which she kept most of her dresses. “Oookay, which one would you like?”

It’s a fave of mine because as someone who spends maybe too much time around yelling kids I know when to give up and this is a #mood for me, and also I really like that scene where someone is like “we’re definitely not doing the thing” but then it cuts to them doing that exact thing.

It’s just endlessly funny to me honestly :D

3. Which of your fics has your favorite opening and which has your favorite ending?

The favorite opening would be that of my songfic “Will everybody please give him a little bit of space” inspired by “This is home”:

Often I am upset

That I cannot fall in love

“I don’t think I can do this,” Lemongrab sighed.

I like it because immediately you know something bad is going on. “I cannot fall in love” followed by “I don’t think I can do this” just sets the scene so well for all the drama, especially if you know the song and the melody because that really adds to the atmosphere❤️

Favourite ending.... hm, that’s hard. I like all of them. Because I always write happy endings, and I like happy endings. Also I don’t have that many fics with actual endings because many of them are not actually finished 🤦‍♀️

It would probably be the one also from “Pretty, pretty lemonman” where LG3 wears a dress to some formal event and goes to greet Bubblegum:

Bubblegum seemed to have lost her voice. The sight of him in a dress was so unreal, and she wanted to worry for his reputation, for his dignity, for his well-being, but then Marceline took her hand and she saw Lumpy Space Princess do the same and all of her worries silenced down. He will be fine. He’s himself and that’s who he should be. And so, she smiled kindly and with fondness, saying gently: “I do accept you. You are beautiful and loved, and I’m proud of you, Lemongrab.”

I like this for a lot of reasons. First, Bubblegum doesn’t act like a complete ass, excuse my French. Second, she worries for Lemongrab but then realizes there are people in his life who trust him to be his own person and she should be one of them. So she becomes one of them and trusts him to be his own person. And third, the last sentence of the fic is something that I believe everyone should hear at least once in their life. No matter what they have or have not gone through, regardless of whether they have trouble expressing gender or just got anxious about homework. People should be told someone loves and accepts them.

Hey, you. I do accept you. You are beautiful and loved, and I’m proud of you.

There you go, it’s really easy, kids, try this at home.

8. If you could have an artist create fan art for any of your fics, which would it be and why? 

OH BOY OH BOY since it’s you who’s asked this I really had to think my answer through because if it turns out you planned on drawing it I want it to be something you don’t kill your hands over and I’m managing LG in dresses pretty well, so it’s not going to be “Pretty, pretty lemonman.”

And since there’s not many other fics I’ve finished and posted, I think it would be “Will everybody please give him a little bit of space.” There’s lots of angst prompting scenes – LG tracing over his scars with a scalpel to cut PB’s pink thread, his predecessors’ minds yelling over each other in his head, Bubblegum trying to keep him alive while regretting like ten years of neglecting her son.... yeah it’s a lot of drama.

If I had to pick something happier, than definitely the Lemongrab/LSP fusion from my “Gems AU” one-shot. Or like... their fusion in general.

10. Which of your fics do you wish more people would talk to you/ask questions about and why? Be honest!

Actually if people asked me too many questions about one single fic I would end up telling you all the spoilers. Like I’d just tell you the whole story bit by bit because I tend to ramble and have like five(5) fics so eventually I’d just have nothing else to tell you :D BUT what I’d love to get more asks about are Alternate Universe prompts! Crossovers! Like... An AU where LSP was raised by Bubblegum and LG is from another dimension! Or... he’s a sun god and she’s a star constellation goddess🌟! Or like.... ALL THE SOULMATE AUS. Also if you ever spot any imagine-your-otp prompts that you think fit Lumpygrab, yeet them at me!

Thanks for asking!

~Secret~

#adventure time #lemongrab #lumpy space princess #lumpygrab #imagine lumpygrab #lemongrab x lsp #ask #secret’s secrets #charliecharlo #long post #long reply #fanfic ​exerpts #fanfic ideas #fuck you tumblr

[princessgracekelly1956]

Philadelphia Daily News, 29 May 1981 

By Larry Fields

Gracing the wedding

The first team was there last night when they married 54-year-old former City Councilman Jack Kelly off at the swank Wharton Sinkler Estate in Wynd-moor. There was his sister. Princess Grace of Monaco; her husband. Prince Rainier and two of their Serene Highnesses' three children Princess Caroline and Prince Albert, who graduates Sunday from Amherst College in Massachusetts. Princess Stephanie, who just turned 16, remained at home. 'Someone had to stay behind and protect the throne in case the new French Socialist government decides to go crazy and take over the smaller-than-Fairmount Park principality that Rainier and Grace rule, courtesy of the benevolent former French government. 

There were four of the groom's six children from his former marriage. There was Eagles' owner Leonard Tose and his wife, Caroline; former Secretary of the Treasury William Simon; Mayor William Green and his wife, Pat; City Representative Dick Doran; Rolls-Royce dealer Marty Keenan and his gorgeous wife, Joanne; champion skier Suzy "Chapstick" Chaffee a doll Kell used to date; John Lehman, U.S. secretary of the Navy and Kell's cousin; and of course, Stanley Green and his wife, Agnes - because what party would be complete without them? 

OH, YES, THERE WAS ALSO THE BRIDE - Sandra Lee Worley, 34 years old and a vision in white for her first time at the altar. The wedding was performed officially by Common Pleas Court Judge James J. McDermott, a candidate for justice of the Supreme Court. McDermott, who officiated in his usual magnificent manner, was perfect for the part he's sent many a man to his doom. 

Although it must be acknowledged that life with Sandi Worley can only be considered a delight and the groom was convicted of nothing more than good taste.

McDermott, a widower - and this columnist's candidate for any office he seeks, including emperor of the United States - did not seem too lonely for lovely female companionship himself. His date at the affair was a wonderful-looking woman named Deirdre Mecke, a divorcee whose former brother-in-law was Theodore H. Mecke Jr., a Philadelphia native who served as a vice president of the Ford Motor Co. before his death. 

Prince Albert, heir to the Monaco throne, was handsome and charming and one of the few men at the wedding not wearing a tuxedo. 

"I hope you'll be getting married soon," I said to Albert, who recently was linked romantically to TV actress Kathy Lee Crosby. 

"Why do you say that?" he asked me. 

"I love your country," I explained. "But it's too expensive for me. The only way I’ll be able to visit it again is if you get married and my paper pays for me to go to Monaco and report on the event" 

"Well" he said. “I would not plan on visiting Monaco then for at least three years - minimum, I’m not planning to marry soon." 

PRINCE ALBERT SAID that after his Sunday graduation from Amherst he intended to spend a few days in New York, then some time in Paris, and then in Monaco. "Marriage for me is quite a long way off," he said. 

His older sister, Princess Caroline, wearing a short black dress, cut low enough to almost see Heaven, did not appear to be recuperating too well from her recent divorce from Parisian playboy Philippe Junot She was there at the wedding, but the expression on her pretty face was sad and sullen. She resembled, slightly, a spoiled doll from Bustleton who was trying to get over a broken heart. 

Her dad. Prince Rainier, just seemed bored. He was there at the wedding, it seemed, because his wife dragged him there. It appeared that he was in the United States to attend the graduation ceremonies for his son and there just was no way to avoid mingling with his in-laws. 

Basking in the spotlight was nothing new to the groom, of course, and he as usual was cordial and friendly to the pushy press and photographers. The bride was another story. She seemed genuinely upset by an the commotion. 

BUT SHE LOOKED lovely dressed in virginal white, wearing a veil, and seemingly proud to be the second Mrs. John B. Kelly. Jr. 

The bride, who had announced that her parents would be at the wedding, caused a minor stir when they did not appear and she was “given away" by the groom's brother-in-law, Donald LeVine, a horse trainer. 

Pleasant Colony - winner of this year's Kentucky Derby and Preakness - should look so good. 

Princess Grace, no stranger to public and press attention, seemed to be the most composed at the affair. After Judge McDermott pronounced Jack and Sandra "husband and wife," she directed the line of traffic waiting to wish them well. 

"You're in the wrong line," she snapped at me. 

"It's the story of my life, your Serene Highness," I admitted. "Please don’t have my head cut off." 

HER SERENE HIGHNESS did not seem amused. 

Because I do not discuss my wife Andrea, I will state that the prettiest lady present, in my opinion, was Caroline Tose, a vision in gold and diamonds and emeralds. 

Mrs. Tose was not too kind to me. 

"You," she said, "are a louse. Where is Andrea?" I have written in the past that Leonard had given Caroline a $1 ring from Woolworth at their wedding a few months ago. Now she waved a wedding ring in front of me made up of the Eagles colors green and white. Three separate rings, one of emeralds surrounded by two strands of diamonds. "I want to show Andrea this because I know how much she likes emeralds and diamonds," Caroline said

"I want to show her this and ask her what kind of dum-dum she married that didn't buy her a ring like this," Caroline said. 

"SHE MARRIED A DUM DUM who cant afford doo-dads like you've got on your finger," I told Caroline. "But" I made up for it - sort of. I bought her Saudi Arabia."

Jack Kelly and Sandra Worley got married last night. It was a lovely wedding, and I must confess that I didn't notice the bride's ring because scotch got in my eyes. I only hope that they are as happy as Andrea and I - and Leonard and Caroline Tose. 

What do they say about misery loving company?

Click! Paparazzi Put Philadelphia on the Map

By FRANK DOUGHERTY 

You cannot have a social event without some social outcasts. And the social outcasts roles last night at the wedding of Philadelphia man-about-town Jack Kelly were filled by the paparazzi. 

In New York or Los Angeles, it would have been just another media event. But Philadelphia last night got into the Big Leagues with a visit from Europe's legendary and colorful media photographers.

THE PHILADELPHIA PRESS photographers covering the wedding last night were augmented with teams of lensmen from France, Germany and the United Kingdom, along with a couple of European free-lancers who operate out of New York. 

A photographic session was arranged after last night's nuptials by bridegroom Kelly and his top security chief, a guy named Mike Carroll, who said he used to be a Philadelphia cop. 

Carroll's real job began when the photographers were admitted to the grounds of the Wharton Sinkler Estate in Wyndmoor, about 15 minutes after Kelly and his bride, Sandra Worley, tied the knot. 

The Kelly family posed in the foyer of the gorgeous English Tudor mansion while photographers stood in the rain atop a cobblestone driveway and made their photographs as guests watched the show from the 100-year-old hand-leaded windows on the second floor. 

AS SOON AS KELLY and his wife appeared, strobe lights began going off like shore batteries and the pushing and shoving quickly followed. 

Carroll kept control until Princess Grace arrived in the foyer to pose with brother Jack. The photographers, festooned in Nikons and looking like a pack of lemmings about to plunge over a Norwegian cliff, immediately surged ahead. 

"The rain is good for your complexion," Her Serene Highness told the photographers. "It will make your complexions beautiful." 

At this point, Prince Rainier appeared in the foyer. And the photographers, with the Frenchmen in the lead, all pressed forward. 

The French and American photographers began calling each other names as two United Kingdom free lancers had taken positions standing atop potted chrysanthemums. 

The press crowd broke up as the Kelly family ducked out of the foyer back into the reception area. The photographers packed their gear and left - leaving behind small mounds of empty film boxes and canisters, a few broken umbrellas and six destroyed potted chrysanthemums.

#Princess Grace #John B Kelly Jr #Sandra Worley #Prince Albert #Prince Rainier #1981 #80s #Philadelphia Daily News #newspaper #Larry Fields #Frank Dougherty #Susan Winters #Elwood P Smith #Princess Caroline

[zombierunfiction]

Season 1 Mission 21: Siege

The following morning everyone was running aorund Abel fortifying it as all of the available runners were getting ready for their mission.  Charlotte helpped Jody into her pack as Sara spoke with Simon about where they were going.  

"Okay, okay, got it!  I got it!"  Sam said over their headsets.  "Janine, do you have any idea when we might have cameras back?"

"I'm not entirely sure, but constantly asking me is guaranteed to make it quicker."  Janine says sarcasticly.

Sam sighed heavily.  "You know we've got... Runner Three?"

"Runner Three, Simon here!"  Simon said sporting his normal bright smile. His sandy blonde hair was messy in a very GQ way.  Simon, from what Charlotte could gather, was intensly into fitness and taking care of his body.  She had seen several girls in Abel watching him run around without a shirt on and drooling.  

Personally she thought he was too cocky for his own good.

"Runner Four, Runner Five, Runner Six, and Runner Seven."

"Runner Four, Jody here!"  Jody said happily as she tied her hair into a braid like Charlotte's, which was a loose french braid.

"Runner Five, Charlotte."  Charlotte stated happily.

"Runner Six, Maggie Doane."  A bright blonde stated with an infectious english accent and a smile.

"Runner Seven, Even Deaubl." He said with his normal tone of seriousness.

"Alright guys, you're all running interference for Five.  Keeping the zoms off, being my eyes out there.  Because we have no cameras, Janine!"  Sam said pointedly.

"Don't waste your energy blaming me, Mr Yao!  Something out there has taken our cameras down.  We need to find out what."  Janine said.

"How's that headset fit Charlotte?"  Maggie asked gently adjusting the extra piece that had been attached to Charlotte's headset.  

"Feels fine actually.  Just a little heavy on one side."  Charlotte said as MAggie nodded with a smile.

"If only we had more time but since New Canton are planning their attack right now!  And we have one secret weapon.  Because of the extra tech sewn into your equipment, they think you're one of their runners, Five.  We need every little bit of confusion we can muster.  So, we need you to go out there and move around-"  Sam was interrupted by the siren of the gate opening with gunshots going off.

"Yeah, we know, Sam!"  Simon said.

"You said it everytime."  Maggie said with a grin.

"Run."  Evan said as the group took off out of Abel.  Once they were a few kilometers away from Abel, they slowed to a jog.  "Three, you heading down east with the noisemakers?"

Simon grinned pulling out his noise making turning it on as it starts to bellow.  "You know me, Seven.  I love being chased."

"Steady there, Three."  Charlotte said in union with Maggie who laughed.

"Happy hunting, guys.  Bag some big ones!"  Simon said breaking off from the group heading east.

"Oh I really wish you seemed to enjoy this less.  It always makes me nervous!"  Jody said as Charlotte nudged her gently.  

"Don't worry you will be just fine."  Charlotte said smiling.

"We all find some way to deal with the pressure, Four.  And the plan for you is what?"  Maggie asked.

"I'm Sam's lookout to the north.  Aren't I, Sam?"

"Roger that.  I mean, yeah.  I mean..."  Sam sighs softly.  "Three's right, though, isn't he?  This is kind of exciting.  All of you teaming up, working to defeat the New Canton raid?"

"Easy for you to say, 'it's exciting', sitting in that chair with ten food of fencing between you and the zoms!"  Jody said still sounding somewhat paniced.

"Hey, hey!  Sam's doing his job just like the rest of us."  Evan said.

"Yeah, I guess so..."  Jody said softly.

"Anyway, if New Canton get in, Sam won't be any safer than anyone else, will you?"  Maggie asked.

Sam laughs softly.  "Yeah, I hadn't thought about that at all!  No... I had.  that is basically all I've been thinking about the past 24 hours.  Okay! So, yeah, Four - you're heading up to the north?"  

"Roger that.  See you on the other side, guys.  If we all make it."  Jody said as she split off from them.

"Way to guarantee we won't all make it, Four."  Maggie calls.

"Okay, Seven.  You and Maggie are staying with me correct?"  Charlotte asked.

"Absolutely.  Here we are - Five, Six, Seven."  Evan said as Maggie snorted.

"All we need is Eight and we could start a dance class.  You get it?  Five, six, seven, eight!"  Maggie and Charlotte both laughed as Evan shook his head as the three of them ran.

"Alright you should be getting close to New Canton Territory now.  Five's headset might start to pick something up."  Sam said softly.

"We're not quite there yet, Sam."  Charlotte said.

Sam growled.  "I'm nothing without my cameras!"  

Static started to come on the line for Charlotte as Nadia's voice is heard.  "Can't help you runners much without my goddamn cameras, but... Runners Thirteen through Twenty-seven - it's time.  We've had our orders from the counsil.  Begin the Attack."

"It we get much closer to New Canton, they'll start to be able to see us with binoculars!"  Maggie said. "We'll skirt round the edge through the woods.  Come on!"  Evan said as they changed direction.

"Wait, I see him!  There's his tracker!  Goddammit, why aren't those cameras working?  Look, there's Lem, Runner Thirty-eight!  Yes, I know it could be a zombie.  I know! I know he got bitten, but look how fast he's going, and... Lem?  Lem!  Runner Thirty-eight, if you can hear me, change direction Go towards Tulalley Curtis.  That ridge with the tall stands of trees."  Nadia shouted as Charlotte nodded.

"It's over there!"  Charlotte said as Evan nodded to her.

"Come on, then."  Maggie said as they changed directions.

"Oh my god!  Look!  He's moving.  He's changing course!  It's not a zom, it's Lem!  It's Lem!  Guys, Lem is out there!"  Nadia exclaimed excitedly.  Charlotte still felt rather guilty about tricking this poor girl into thinking that her boyfriend was still alive but she had to protect her home.  "Where have you been, Lem?  What happened?"  She paused.  "He's not answering.  Headset must be fried.  Why isn't he coming in?  Why aren't you coming in Lem?  What happened to him?  Runners Thirteen, Fifteen, Twenty-two and Twenty-seven, head towards the woods.  Lem's there, and he's-"  

"It's working, Sam!  It's working!"  Evan interrupts Nadia.

"We see that, from the look out post."  Sam said as Nadia continued to talk.

"... I know he got bitten, but..."

"Some of them are turning back."  Sam said happily.

"Look.  They gave him that vaccine at Barry Base when he was there in the spring - maybe it really works!  I don't know why he's not coming in!"  Nadia shouts.  "Maybe they've got him trapped!  Thirteen, thirteen, can you see him yet?"

"They're coming up fast!  We don't want them to see us yet - run!"  Maggie said.

Charlotte and Evan raced away with Maggie next to her as they ducked through the woods.  "We've got vision on them, still around ten people heading for us with heavy weapons, but I think you've slowed them down and confused them!  Booyah!  We can take these guys!"  Sam shouts happily.

"Mr. Yao..."  Janine warned.

"Eh heh... I've been told there's still a possibility we cannot take these guys.  Carry on."  Sam retracts.

"If we head down by Linland Lake, where the old concert hall is..."  Evan thinks for a moment.

"Yeah, they'll be there for hours looking for us!  With all those wooded islands and that mess of buildings..."  Maggie says softly.

Suddenly Nadia came back on, this time sounding more paniced.  "Yes, I see that.  Yes!  Raiding party runners - abort, abort, abort!  I repeat, abort the mission!  Come on home, now!  Right now!  Don't argue!  consil orders!  Abort, now!  No, stop searching for Lem.  If he's out there, well... we'll find him another day."  

"Woohoo!  Yeah, they're turning back!  We beat them!  Never even had to fight, they were just too goddamn chicken and confused."  Sam said as Evan, Charlotte and Maggie stopped in a small clearing to catch their breath.

"Mr. Yao!"  Janine shouted.

"What, I'm not allowed to celebrate?"  For a moment Sam was quiet.  "Oh, uh, why's Runner Four's transmission so faint?  Yeah, yeah, yeah, do whatver you can to boost it."

There was a lot of static before Jody's paniced voice came through their headsets.  "Abel Township, can you hear me, Abel Township?  Come in, Sam please!  Just please say you can hear me!  They're heading for you, Sam!  From the north!  There must be atleast three hundred, and they're just... I've never seen zoms look so purposeful!"  Charlotte looked at Evan and Maggie who shared her horrified expression.  "Abel Township, there's an army of zombies heading for your position!  Abel Township, I-"  jody screamed suddenly before the transmission was cut off.

"Jody!"  Charlotte shouted breathing quickly.

"I guess now we know why New Canton turned back."  Sam said grimly.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

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Season 1 Beginning

#zombie #zombies run #zombiesrun #zombierunapp #run #runner 5 #runner five #runnerfive #runner5 #fanfiction #fanfic

[supernaturalsnark]

*This post is based on season 1. Spoilers ahead!

Season 2 is shaping up to be just as silly but some of my favourite people are in it. DORIAN (Michael Ealy). O’LAUGHLIN (Eric Winter). PETER MILLS (Charlie Barnett). LEM (Kenny Johnson). Wait. Those are fictional characters. Anyway.

Ben Crawford is a self-employed contractor, married to Christy with whom he has two daughters, Natalie, 16, and Abby, 12. His best friend, Dave, lives in their summer house. They have a neighbor, Jess, who is estranged from her husband Scott, who is in the military. Jess and Scott have a five year old son named Tom.

While out for an early morning run, Ben discovers Tom’s body; he was evidently taken from his bed into the woods and killed by six blows to the head from a flashlight.

Detective Cornell is convinced Ben is the killer, Ben cannot prove his innocence because he suffered a blackout after going out drinking with Dave following a fight with Christy over her suspicion of an affair with Jess.

Here’s how to bore your audience.

1. Lull us into a false sense of Ryan Phillipe being attractive enough to keep us watching 

He’s not.

Okay, he is. But still. The premise was interesting but the delivery…I kept waiting for it to get interesting because I love mysteries but it didn’t. Each episode would highlight another suspect before it was explained away somehow by the next episode in the silliest fashion possible. All of the secrets and lies were a bit…meh, really.

2. Depress us into not being able to mock the show 

The show does everything in its power to ensure that we see as many flashback of the dead kid as possible. Everyone is miserable. One episode was dedicated to Ben Crawford being tortured (for real) and it was up there with the worst episodes of anything that I’ve ever seen. The music, colour – it was all bland. The acting…was like they were trying to readjust to life after being trapped in a cryogenic chamber. It wasn’t bad per se, but the material was limited. The scripts were average and it just stumbled along slowly.

3. Make the killer obvious 

For me it was obvious…because the writers made it obvious. In the very first episode, Abby, Ben’s preteen daughter calmly accepts that Tom is dead. She even assures the father that she knows he didn’t do it. However, she starts sobbing hysterically when she discovers that Tom was her brother. After the first episode I said she better not be the killer and looked it up.

She was!

4. Allow Juliette Lewis to do what she was doing for ten episodes

Wooden. Emotionless. It was akin to watching an actual plank of plywood masquerading as a human being. When I eventually write my robot movie, I’m going to cast Juliette Lewis as the lead. I’m confident that she will be the best for the role. It was a very clichéd performance as a tough as nails female cop, although, maybe that’s what the showrunner wanted. It was a bit ridiculous, though.

For what it’s worth, she’s much better during season 2.

5. Make all of the characters terrible

Ben – had an affair; fathered Tom. Never did the math.

In an inspired moment, he tries to buy a gun despite the fact that he’s all over the news as a potential murder suspect.

Top notch disguise

Ben also hides the murder weapon when it miraculously turns up in truck. He also sleeps with Jess again and tries to convince everyone that the fact that she’s bipolar = crazy and dangerous!

Okay, she did throw a knife at his head and falsely accuse him of rape but still.

Wife – had a secret abortion, has an affair in retaliation to Ben’s affair. Walks around wearing expensive jewelry given to her by another dude. Has way more money than Ben, including a huge trunk of cash that her brother gave her (or something stupid like that).

Live in best friend Dave: He drugged Ben on the night of the murder to make him ‘loosen up’ and doesn’t inform him of this even though Ben is suspected of murder and is struggling to remember his alibi or y’know, what the fuck he did that night. Dave is generally awful. Loud. Drinks and yells a lot. He was clearly meant as comic relief but instead he was just irritating.

Teenage daughter (Natalie): She spent most of the season sulking and slinking off to her room.

Preteen daughter/murderer (Abby):

Brat.

Spoiled.

Daddy‘s gurl.

Wants her parents to be together forever.

Knows that Ben slept with Jess (the neighbour).

Conned Tom into following her into the woods by saying that his Dad would comeback if he ran away from home.

Deliberately damages her brand new phone because she was angry at her Dad & Jess being together at a fair.

Oh and she killed a five year old boy!

Jess: Lies about her husband being abusive.  Lies about Ben raping her. But she was grieving so, all in all, she wasnt too bad of a character. They also have Ben find an urn in her house and discover that she has another dead child. Twas a bit much on the writers parts.

Neighbours: Sad people with either sad backstories or a tendency to torture people on account of being an ex-CIA agent.

6. Leave the ending open…

…but put up a unofficial ending on the ABC website anyway.  

Miraculously, Ben discovers a pair of bloodied sneakers right at the end of the show. He’s just been cleared of the murder but what he doesn’t know is that the next theory is that his daughter killed Tom. When he confronts her, she’s apologetic and claims she was just trying to keep the family together and was trying to get Jess to move away. They all fall for that bullshit because they don’t know that she hit Tom six times over the head with a torch and tried to frame Jess by leaving a bloodstained jacket in her bathtub.

Ben decides to take the fall for her, thus rendering the entire season useless. I mean, blah, blah, blah, fatherly love — she not only killed someone but she successfully evaded capture and managed to cover her tracks? Is there no TV justice in this world?

This was my expression too

After his confession, Abby and her mom abscond, but the other daughter refuses to go with them. Smart girl. Especially because in the car Abby goes into evil child mode and reveals that her intention was to drown Tom and that none of this would have happened if they’d made it to the water. Her mom stares on with ‘well, shit’ eyes but it’s too late.

The show more or less ends there.

However, the online companion series had an additional clip where we find out that Ben died in prison and that the detective is still on the case. Why it wasn’t on the show itself is a mystery to me.

It was far more interesting than the show itself which rambled on for so long before ending amidst a sea of silliness.

Verdict: 5/10. It was mildly entertaining and well, they kinda lulled me into a false sense of Ryan Phillipe is attractive enough to keep me watching.

How To Bore Your Audience (As Told By ABC’s “Secret & Lies US”*) *This post is based on season 1. Spoilers ahead! Season 2 is shaping up to be just as silly but some of my favourite people are in it.

#abc #review #ryan phillipe #secrets and lies #secrets and lies US #shitty tv writers yo #snark #snarkview #TV