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#fic talk: pro patria
anghraine · 5 months
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fic meme: first and last lines
Rules: go through your last 5 fics and share the first and last line. provide no context.
I was tagged by @ladytharen in this meme awhile ago! I was going to cheat and wait until I'd finished one of my shorter current projects, but realistically it's going to be awhile. Also, the meme seems geared towards complete works, so I'm going with those, with some guesstimations based on final revisions.
whatever we deny or embrace
first line: When Bail and Breha talked of adopting a girl, they always thought of a baby girl. last line: “It’s a very good idea,” she said.
the voices of the sea
first line: The dream always began the same way. last line: Now, she must tell their mother.
The Jedi and the Sith Lord
first line: If Darth Vader did not avoid the sight of his daughter in carbonite, he certainly did not seek it out. last line: “I think not.”
the last day
first line: My dear Edith, I hope you and your brother are well. last line: I’m sorry, I can’t say anything else.
the gift of men
first line: Eldarion had no queen. last line: She had lived over seventy years, and Eldarion had lifetimes ahead of him.
Tagging: @elwing, @kareenvorbarra, @ncfan-1, @irresistible-revolution, @kazaera, if you want to do it!
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thebreakfastgenie · 2 years
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📓📓
For you, Ally, one TWW fic and one MASH fic!
The Josh Dies AU is vast, so I've started daydreaming about it in installments. The first installment is called Pro Patria Mori and covers the night of the shooting.
For MASH you get THE daydream fic: Sixties Verse! I honestly left out a lot of Annie stuff but I gave you all my favorite plot points.
They both got really long so under a cut they go!
Pro Patria Mori
It begins with the president giving a statement to the press from the hospital. They've only allowed in one camera, he's being shot from the waist up in bed, and he's been made up as much as possible. As he begins, we jump back in time a few hours.
The surgeon who was working on Josh comes to Jed's hospital room to inform him that Josh didn't make it. Abbey, being an experienced doctor, knows what he's going to say before he says it. She holds Jed's hand. Shortly afterward, the hospital administrator escorts Leo into the room. Leo squeezes Jed's other hand, shaking, when they tell him. The administrator confirms the rest of the staff is in the waiting room.
Abbey accompanies the surgeon to tell them. She wants to break the news herself, but freezes, and the surgeon tells them. CJ freezes. Sam goes into the hallway to throw up. Toby calmly asks about the body. He explains that it's Jewish custom not to leave the body alone. The hospital prepares a room and Toby goes to stay with Josh until his mother can get there.
CJ has to run back to the White House. Danny catches her alone and presses her about the "who was in charge question." CJ, exhausted, frustrated, grieving, and still in shock, blurts out that Josh died. Horrified, she starts back-pedaling, explaining that no one is supposed to know yet. Danny gently tells her everything she says tonight is off the record. They hug.
Sam is struggling to write the statement they're going to put out and calls Toby. Toby is praying over Josh's body, but answers the call on his cellphone and works on the statement with Sam. Sam quote Wilfred Owen and Toby agrees the situation they're in feels like a war.
Jed insists he wants to deliver the statement himself and convinces the staff. As they're preparing, Leo references the same Wilfred Owen poem Sam quoted earlier. Abbey squeezes Jed's arm, and he makes his statement.
Also as a little bonus for you, in one of the later installments, CJ finds out Simon shot one of the Rosslyn shooters. She says "good" in a voice even Simon finds chilling.
Sixties Verse
This concept started before I even finished the show. In 1962, Hawkeye Pierce is working as a thoracic surgeon at Massachusetts General Hospital. He's been there for several years, but hasn't gotten to know anyone. Everyone calls him Dr. Pierce. The only person at work who knows anything about him is the chief of surgery, who learned some of his history when he hired him. He tries to be friends, having occasional lunches, but Hawkeye doesn't open up much. He's still in touch with everyone from the 4077th, but he doesn't talk to any of them often, even Charles who lives in the same city. (I have not figured out Trapper yet.) This is because everyone is busy with their lives, but Hawkeye has also distanced himself a bit without realizing it.
Annie Wainwright is the only woman currently in the surgical residency at MGH and faces a lot of disrespect, frequently being asked to run errands. On July 4th, 1962, she's sent to find Dr. Pierce, who handles most of the trauma cases.
After an argument with the arrogant chief resident, Hawkeye asks Annie to assist instead. He's impressed with her skills and compliments her. Annie invites him to the roof to watch the fireworks with some other doctors. He brusquely declines, which confuses her. The next day, he asks the chief to put Annie on his service and let him take over her training. Once Annie agrees, he quickly becomes her mentor. They also become friends, because neither of them has any other friends. He insists he has friends, they just mostly aren't local, and at first she doesn't believe him. He introduces himself as Hawkeye, but she insists on calling him Dr. Pierce because he's an attending, though he calls her Annie. She calls him sir a few times early on and he says "don't call me sir, it makes me feel like I'm in the army." He finds out one of the other attendings encourages it and loudly confronts him in the hospital. She asks where he learned a creative technique and he tells her "Korea." He starts telling 4077th stories. At some point as they get closer he tells her he left some of his marbles rolling around Korea.
Hawkeye and Annie are on call during the last night of the Cuban Missile Crisis. Annie and the other residents on call are scared, but Hawkeye is calm and tells them they have work to do. Once it's over he looks dazed and says he forgot what it feels like to be sure you're going to die. They all go out for drinks, which leads to Annie opening up more to Hawkeye, and also to her getting together with her crush, fellow resident Lucas Winters.
At some point, Margaret visits, and Hawkeye is excited for Annie to meet her. With Margaret, he acts like the Hawkeye we know, and Annie is amazed. Before she leaves, Margaret tells Annie privately "look after Hawkeye for me, okay?" Annie visits Hawkeye's apartment and makes fun of how he lives (he insists it's a bachelor pad but she shakes her head). She's shocked by the number of Christmas cards he receives and that most of them are from former patients. He explains that some of them keep in touch, because sometimes when people go through something they like to stay close to the people who got them through it, but sometimes they just want to move on. Annie doesn't realize it, but he's not just talking about his patients.
A young veteran who attempted suicide by jumping off a bridge is considered a hopeless case, but Hawkeye insists on trying to save him anyway. Annie is the only one willing to assist. The patient survives. Later, while doing rounds (Hawkeye always does his own rounds and spends more time with patients than any other attending) the patient tells Hawkeye he overheard the other doctors discussing him, saying Hawkeye was the only one who wanted to save him. Hawkeye tells the patient he wasn't supposed to hear that. Later he nearly comes to blows with the doctor who was gossiping, leading to his boss gently chastising him and revealing what Charles said in the glowing recommendation he gave before Hawkeye was hired. Hawkeye, who put Charles as a reference without telling him, is surprised and touched.
Annie and Lucas have a messy breakup and in order to take her mind off of it, Hawkeye brings her along to Maine for the weekend to learn "the fundamentals" from Daniel while he does a consult. Daniel asks Hawkeye how he would feel about him hiring Vernon Parsons to help with the workload. Hawkeye says it's absurd to think that would bother him, but spends the entire drive back to Boston complaining about Vernon to a confused Annie. There is a flashback explaining why Hawkeye decided to go to Boston. There are several flashbacks interspersed about what Hawkeye was up to between 1953 and 1962, including his job interview.
One night during a bad storm, a family that was in a car accident is brought in. The father is dead on arrival, but the mother and baby are in critical condition. A pediatric surgeon is called in to work on the baby while Hawkeye works on the mother. Despite his best efforts, she dies, and he tells Annie to inform the other surgeon that his patient is an orphan. At that moment, a resident from the other surgery arrives to tell them the baby didn't make it.
Annie finds Hawkeye on the floor in his office. He says he's out of gin and, confused, she says he doesn't keep alcohol in his office. He says the baby was perfectly healthy when it got on the bus. She tells him it was a car and he doesn't respond. She discretely takes him home and stays to keep an eye on him. She asks her ex, Lucas, to cover her shift the next day and he does. The next morning, Charles, who heard about what happened through the surgeon grapevine, shows up to check on Hawkeye. Annie doesn't recognize him (despite being a fan of Dr. Winchester's work; she's embarrassed when she figures it out) and refuses to let him in until he says he served with Hawkeye in Korea. When BJ shows up a little while later, Annie is expecting him, and lets him in right away, causing Charles to grumble. Hawkeye recovers in a couple of days and asks Annie how she knew what to do. She reminds him he told he he left some of his marbles in Korea. He says "I thought you thought I was kidding" and she replies "so did I."
In July 1963, Annie starts her third year, and Hawkeye goes to New York for a 4077th reunion for the tenth anniversary of the ceasefire. Between this and the previous visit, he's started making more of an effort to be in touch with his friends. He's spending time with Charles, who he eventually finds out is married to Donna. He's hurt that he wasn't invited, but Charles says they eloped.
The rest is much less clear, but includes Lucas being drafted for Vietnam, Margaret finally retiring from the army and moving to Boston where she frequently spends time with Hawkeye and Charles, and Hawkeye getting in touch with Sidney. The fic ends when Annie completes her residency and takes a job in another city. Hawkeye decides to spend less time doing trauma surgery and more time teaching it to younger doctors and med students. When Annie completes her residency, Hawkeye shakes her hand and says "Congratulations, Dr. Wainwright." She replies "Thank you, Hawkeye."
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ancano · 2 years
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Fic WIP for my Torygg Lives AU
Title: Dulce et Decorum est Pro Patria Mori (It is Sweet and Fitting to Die for the Homeland)
Tw: fantasy racism
Ulfric stared out the frost covered window out onto the icy streets of Windhelm. He'd found himself at a precipice, and he knew whatever steps he took next would make - or break - history.
The Empire had failed Skyrim, licking the boots of those elven bastards who think themselves higher than man. The boots of a Dominion that outlawed the worship of the very man who founded the Empire and ascended into godhood.
Ulfric reached up to his chest to clutch the amulet of Talos tightly in his hand, letting out a slow breath that fogged the glass of the window. He had a few choices to make, some easy and some hard.
He could fall in line as the jarls were told to do and take the path of least resistance. Bide his time as the dying Empire struggled to regain its footing in a world now becoming overrun by their elven overlords.
To ignore that idea was the easiest choice for him to make.
The hard choice was what he would do about it. At first his plan was to storm on Solitude and challenge High King Torygg, dare him to defend the Empire that had placed him upon the throne. Ulfric still wanted to do it, but talking to Galmar and Jorlief about the repercussions of such an action had him thinking. No doubt the Empire would then brand him a traitor, and backed by the Holds that still supported Torygg, they would be a force to be reckoned with.
Jorlief had suggested petitioning for an audience with the High King, to share with him his doubts in the Empire and to see if Torygg could be swayed into seceding from the Empire. He would still have to fight the Empire, but if he succeeded in persuading Torygg they would fight with a unified Skyrim to back them.
Ulfric had thought he was done with war, but obviously the Nine had different plans for him.
The knock on his bedroom door pulled him from his musings.
"You may enter." He called to the visitor, and felt a small smile of welcome cross his face as Galmar entered the room. "What news do you bring, old friend?"
Galmar huffed, falling into the couch in front of the hearth. "More and more patrols of elves are being spotted along the borders of Eastmarch. It's only a matter of time before they invite themselves to search our roads and towns for those still loyal to Talos."
Ulfric frowned deeply. "I have told General Tullius time and again that the Thalmor are not welcome here." This was no good. Ulfric knew the Thalmor only hung back to avoid unnecessary fights, the elves too prim and proper to get their dainty hands dirty.
Galmar scoffed at him. "And you think Tullius cares? The man only watches out for his own hide, and is just as much a puppet to the Thalmor as the damned Emperor! He can only hold them back for so long before they wave their damn treaty in his face and barge in here anyway."
Ulfric crossed the room to sit next to his friend and general. "And what do you suppose we should do about that?"
Galmar gave him a wicked look. "You already know what I think."
Ulfric sighed, leaning forward with his arms on his knees, fingers rubbing the stress from his eyes. "I know what I said before but Jorlief had a point. I can't just kill the boy."
"That 'boy' doomed us to a life under elven rule!" Galmar growled, "how much longer do you expect us to just wait and see what will happen? The men are already itching to fight back. You know many will follow you into the fray, you need only give the word."
"Technically it was Istlod who signed the concordat. Torygg merely inherited his father's misguided decisions." Ulfric stated plainly. He knew Torygg stood by the concordat, at least publicly. But the way Torygg looked at the moot when Ulfric pitched his own claim to the throne… No, Torygg definitely felt more than he let on.
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My top 10 R/S feelgood stories - thank you @wolfstarwarehouse for starting this! (They are my feelgood fics, so... you know me. If you don’t, let me say that you won’t find only fluffy and angst free fics in this list. They all have a happy ending, though, and most of them are really funny and sweet. All these stories make me smile and feel hopeful, and I hope they do you, too)
Cupid Disarmed by Chromati1cs -  “Remus Lupin has Veela blood, Sirius Black reads trite romance novels, and neither of them are quite sure what the fuck to do with their hands when they get to talking with one another.”
The Active Reader by veeagainst - “When a craze for pulpy romance novels about Dark Creatures starts in Gryffindor, Sirius reads one about a werewolf -- and decides to write a better one.”
The Great Gryffindor Dating Game by shaggydogstail - “Sirius likes Remus. Remus likes Sirius. Their friends are supportive. Christmas is coming and romance is in the air. So it should be a simple matter for them to get together, right? Except that maybe their friends are a bit too supportive and that’s where the trouble started. What with the pretend dating, the mistletoe, the sleigh rides and say, what’s in this drink? Oh, and the fairly extensive gambling ring. It’ll take more than goodwill and glitter to sort this one out.”
all lies and jests by AngWrites - “The days are measured as such: before Monday, and after Monday. The "after" days come one by one yet all at once, while James watches his friends fracture, and tries to help put them back together. In the end, it requires more than a single motorbike ride or bar of chocolate. It requires learning when to run and when to stand still, when to talk and when to say nothing, when to interfere and when to leave them to it. However. The motorbike helped. So did the deluge of rabbits. Maybe "after" won't be so bad as all that.”
Elucidation Practice by montparnasse - “Christmas, 1978. Remus, wrestling with the mighty problems of gift-giving on a budget, contemplates life, love, London in winter, and falling off the edge of the world with Sirius Black.”
Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered by victoria_p (musesfool) - "Who died and made you Elvis?"
Dulce at decorum by shessocold & its sequel ... pro patria flori by Chromat1cs - “Sirius shows some common decency on the battlefield.” / “Several weeks later, perhaps even a month or three or four, there sits a house in the quiet reaches of Switzerland that may or may not hold something peculiar and beautiful.”
What Glows in the Dark by pixelated - “Sirius’s fingers seem to know just what they’re doing as they trace the bright white lines that litter Remus’s skin; the scars that seem to glow phosphorescent in the flickering candlelight...”
the summer you let your hair grow out by ladymemebeth - “an AU story in which sirius decides to go to remus' house when he runs away, rather than james'. remus finds this situation to be trying in more ways than one. includes gratuitous references to twentieth-century cinema and music.”
A Lie Gets Halfway Around the School Before the Truth Has a Chance to Get Its Pants On by MidniteMarauder - “Remus' seventh year had commenced in the ordinary fashion, if anything about his life at Hogwarts could be accurately described as 'ordinary'. But when a potions incident leaves him up the proverbial creek, things quickly take a turn for the worse—or perhaps for the better, if Sirius has any say in the matter.”
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wolffyluna · 4 years
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2, 3, 7, 8, 11, 12?
2. What’s the most overrated thing you’ve written?
My most popular fic, by both hits and kudos, is a random Overwatch prompt meme fill. It’s not a bad fic? But it very much is a fic that took me two hours, including editing, to write. It’s popularity is very explicable: it’s a popular fandom, and it has a popular trope. But it’s still very “...you guys know I’ve written things with more attention and effort, right? Those fics are probably better? Some of them are in the same fandom and contain a more popular ship?”
3. Something you wish a commenter had called attention to, but got ignored.
In Ten of Swords, Zimrazagar is very much a ‘pro patria mori’ sort of person. She wants to fight in service of King and Country, if she dies while doing so, so be it. Which is interesting because this is a Tolkien setting, and Tolkien very much as feelings about what it means to fight in service of your country, and whether it is ‘sweet and fitting.’ Combine that with the fact that Zimrazagar is doing that for a country which is UnGood (read: very Imperialist/Colonialist, and that’s before the human sacrifice started!). It’s interesting, imo.
7. Something you hate to see in dialogue.
“And that makes me so angry!” Or, being more general: characters being too open about their feelings. Not that openly stating one’s feelings is necessarily unrealistic, but I personally find it more interesting when characters talk around things, try and keep what they are actually feeling under wraps, desperately talk around the elephant in the room.
8. Something you love to see in dialogue.
Back and forth banter is so good. I love it deeply.
11. What “don’t ever do this” writing rule are you guilty of constantly breaking?
You will take the passive voice away from me over my dead body. (Or: the passive voice will be taken from me over my dead body.)
12. What writing rule do you refuse to break?
Answered here.
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terriblelifechoices · 6 years
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Happy Monday, guys. I hope it was less Monday-ish than mine.  Have some comment fic. ;)
Written for the glorious @st00pz, partly as a follow up to baby Galahad meeting Helmine Weiss, aka MACUSA’s Ice Queen but mostly because the thought of someone telling Galahad “you used to be so cute when you were small” when he’s being a little shit as a junior Auror was too good to pass up on.
Originally posted on ao3 here.
The Eyrie, March 1947
“You seem awfully calm,” Red noted.
Galahad raised both eyebrows at him.  “Shouldn’t I be?”
“Most Aurors in your shoes are puking scared or pissed as hell right about now,” Red pointed out, easing the elevator to a stop.  He kept the elevator doors closed, waiting for Galahad’s answer.  “She ain’t going to go easy on youse.”
“I know,” Galahad said.  “I don’t want her to.”
“Your funeral,” Red told him, and opened the doors.
Galahad stepped out into the Eyrie, heading for the great double doors that lead to the Eagle’s Chamber.  They swung open just before he reached them, admitting Galahad into the room beyond.
Galahad understood why most Aurors hated the Eyrie.  Like most of the audience chambers in the Woolworth Building, the room was bigger on the inside than mere architecture should have allowed for.  Enormous, floor-to-ceiling windows lined the walls through the whole room, giving the impression that the Eyrie was exactly what it was named for -- an eagle’s nest high up on a cliffside, surrounded by nothing but the open sky beneath it.  Galahad could practically feel the bite of cold air at mountain altitudes kiss his skin, the wisps of clouds and mist floating by.
Galahad walked along the black marble path leading towards the dais and the woman who ruled the Eyrie.  The seats to either side of hers were empty, save for a court stenographer tucked discreetly off to one side.
Age had not slowed Director Weiss down one bit.  Her blonde hair had long since gone silver, but her winter-pale eyes were as cold and sharp as ever.  She reminded Galahad of Dad’s stories about the sidhe -- Director Weiss was winter court, through and through, cold and dangerous and terrifying.
But fair, Galahad thought.  Not always impartial, but scrupulously, meticulously, terrifyingly fair.
That was a sidhe trait, too.  Not for the first time, Galahad wondered if Director Weiss had a touch of the old blood, in addition to being one of the Twelve.
He stopped some ten or so feet away from the dais, coming to stand at rest before MACUSA’s Ice Queen.
“Galahad Graves,” Director Weiss said.  Her voice was clear and cold, cutting through the silence like a knife.  “You stand accused of disobey direct orders from a senior officer in the field.”
Galahad ground his teeth and said nothing.  It wasn’t his turn to speak yet.
“Your team was recently seconded for a joint international task force, under the direction of Auror Ethan Concannon, was it not?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Galahad said, resisting the urge to curse at the mere mention of Fucking Concannon.  “The Canadians had point on the investigation.  Auror Concannon was Senior Investigating Auror for the task force.”
“What was the purpose of the task force?”
There were days when Galahad really despised MACUSA’s love of bureaucratic minutia.  Surely anyone who wanted to know why he’d been called to the Eyrie already knew what the joint task force had been doing.
“Investigating an illegal magical beasts distribution ring,” Galahad answered.  “Waheela, specifically.”  He was just glad Uncle Newt had his hands full battling England’s Wizengamot over werewolf rights, or he’d have had more problems than just Fucking Concannon to deal with.
Uncle Newt didn’t share Uncle Theseus’ fondness for explosions, but they still happened around him an awful lot anyways.
“Auror Concannon accuses you of disobey direct orders, of jeopardizing the mission by redirecting mission assets, and worst of all, of suborning your fellow Aurors.”
Galahad snorted.
“Does mutiny amuse you, Auror Graves?” Director Weiss asked.
“No, ma’am,” Galahad said.  “It does not.”
“Then what, exactly, amuses you so?”
“Auror Concannon’s version of events, ma’am,” Galahad said.
Weiss looked down at the papers in front of her on the dais.  “Your version reads rather differently,” she noted.
“Yes, ma’am,” agreed Galahad, because it did.
“I note that it does not, at any point, dispute the charge regarding disobeying direct orders from a senior Auror.”
“No, ma’am.”
Director Weiss considered him for a long moment.  “The punishment for that is two weeks suspension without pay.”
Galahad hid a wince.  He wanted to buy Sam’s bridegift with his own funds, not draw on the Graves family vault.  Two weeks without pay would set him back a bit.
“I know, ma’am,” he said.  “It’s a price I’m willing to pay.”
“So be it,” she said.  “Leave your badge with Director Graves.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Thank you, Bishoff.  That will be all,” Director Weiss told the stenographer, who gathered up her things and left.  She waited until Bishoff had gone before she folded her arms across her chest and said, “What the hell, Galahad?”
Galahad set his jaw, stubborn.
“I know you know better than this,” she said.  “You could have caused an international incident!”
Director Graves had said something similar.  Bellowed, actually.
“Concannon’s a fucking moron,” Galahad said, resisting the urge to yell.  Yelling at department heads rarely did any good.
“There are plenty of morons in the world.  A good number of them will be your superiors.  The correct way of dealing with them does not include going rogue, taking over the op and deciding you only follow orders if you feel like it!”
“His plan would’ve gotten half his team and all of mine killed,” Galahad said flatly.  “Have you looked at Concannon’s mission history?  The only reason he’s been promoted is because he’s related to the Canadian Minister.  The man is a vainglorious jackass.”
“Concannon’s mission history is irrelevant.”
“Begging your pardon, ma’am, but it really isn’t.  I talked to his Aurors before I looked into his mission history.  He’s got the highest rate of injury in his division.”  Galahad clenched his jaw.  It wasn’t his place to tell the Canadians how to run their operations, but he was a Graves.  He had a duty to protect his people, no matter what the cost.  “The Canadians might be content to let him do whatever he wants, but I’m not going to stand by and watch while he gets my teammates killed just to advance his career!”
“Even at the expense of your own?” Weiss demanded.
“Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori,” Galahad reminded her.  Weiss was one of the Twelve.  She knew what it meant to grow up with those words carved bone deep.  “Sometimes we get killed in the line of duty.  That’s the job.  But that doesn’t mean our lives are coin to be spent so cheaply.”
Weiss sighed.  “I know,” she said.  “I did look at Concannon’s mission history.  Graves never should’ve agreed to the joint task force.”
“He didn’t want to,” Galahad said. “Trust me.”
Weiss was too dignified to make faces, but Galahad got the impression she would have rolled her eyes if she could have.  “Yes, yes.  The Director of Magical Security does not dictate international policy,” she said, in a perfect imitation of Dad.
“Telling people to fuck off isn’t a great international policy,” Galahad agreed.
Weiss snorted.  “He would, wouldn’t he?”
“Can you blame him?”
Weiss ignored that, which meant that she agreed with him.  She was never, ever going to say so, though, because she and Dad didn’t exactly get along professionally.  They were fine with one another personally, but Aurors and the Eyrie were never going to see eye to eye.
She descended from the dais, her movements smooth and predatory despite her age.  Helmine Weiss was not a witch to be trifled with.
Galahad offered her his arm.
Weiss took it, one corner of her mouth quirking up in a faint smile.  Up close, MACUSA’s Ice Queen barely came up to his shoulder.  It was strange, realizing that such a terrifying figure was so tiny.
“You used to be so cute, you know,” she complained.  It was a frequent complaint, good-natured and teasing.  Galahad had heard it ever since he joined the Aurors.
“I used to be a lot shorter, too,” Galahad pointed out.  “Now I can reach the cookie jar and Dad’s liquor cabinet.”
“I had high hopes you were going to take after your papa,” she continued, ignoring him.  “But no.  You’re a Graves, through and through, down to the martyr-like tendencies.”
“Hey,” Galahad protested.  “I’m not as bad as Dad.”  No one was as bad as Dad.
Weiss patted his head.  “Of course you’re not.”
Galahad counted it a personal victory that she hadn’t tried to pinch his cheeks.  “It really doesn’t surprise me that you and Dad get along so well.”
“Bite your tongue, Galahad Graves.  Your father is insufferable.”
“Yeah,” said Galahad.  “He likes you too.”
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matredaen · 7 years
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yoo @chocochipbiscuit tagged me to post my current wips and uh im a lil late but better late than never
(as always if yall want to know anything abt my wips or like. talk to me about anything my ims/inbox are always open!!)
the wips:
pro patria mori; dh, jessamine pov, pre dh1. currently 2.5k but projected to be uh. closer to/over 10k when finished.
your shadow at morning; dh, mixed pov, dh1 au. currently in outlining. projected to be around/over 50k when finished.
[unnamed emily fic]; dh, emily pov; post dh1. in outlining/concept writing. approx 15k when finished.
for thine is the kingdom; fo4, preston garvey pov, 4th in the ulysses series. 3k right now, 12k when finished.
& thats it folks!! i have other fic scraps that im nurturing but these are the ones that ive got active in my writing folder. im not tagging anyone outright to continue this game but if you want to participate by all means please do!!!!
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essayofthoughts · 7 years
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oh no! er, maybe he visits a museum instead, and has some interesting comments on some of the newer stuff (WW2, etc), because he lived through those times?
Adjusted from this previous ask: “dumbledore visits a cattle ranch. it is both an enlightening and terrifying experience for all involved, except the cows. the cows just chill.”
While I have been to the Imperial War Museum it was several years ago and I have no idea what the current let alone past exhibits are and were respectively and I cannot be arsed to look it up. While my mother regularly consults their archives for her PhD, the museum itself is rather less of a concern, so I’ve wholly made up the museum content for sake of this fic.
Not like it matters - JKR used a fair measure of artistic license in some parts of her book so fair play says I can do the same. Things I reference in this fic may be found Here, Here and Here.
AO3 Mirror Here.
i.Imperial War Museum. It was quite something of a name, he supposed. The wizarding world, after all, had little by way of such imperials, though, certainly, they had often followed the path of their muggles imperialist efforts. 
But wizarding England had not had quite the empire of their muggle counterpart, and had not partaken in such battles. The Statute forbade it, of course, but if they had… well then, the other wizards would have fought back, and after all the bloodshed Grindelwald had wrought it was easy to see how devastating that would be.
As he walks through the exhibits he can see Gellert’s hand in some of it. Not in the older battles, of course, but on the continent, during his reign…
Dumbledore shakes his shoulders and walks on. He does not wish to dwell on the man he once called friend.
ii.“Minerva,” he says, bowing his head. She’s stood in front of a large replica of a painting, men in a row, hands on the shoulder of the man in front, many blindfolded. It’s dated to before Gellert’s war but it is still of war. 
To one side is a poem, writ large.
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs And towards our distant rest began to trudge…
Minerva nods in turn. “Albus. Thank you for meeting me here.”
He says nothing. If she asked him to meet her here there is something she wishes to ask of him, and it is not something he thinks he knows how to talk of.
iii.“You-Know-Who,” she says. She’s turned back to the painting, fingers running gently over a leaflet in her hands, the same image printed there. The title is simple Dulce et decorum est: A meditation on the First World War
He remembers when it was simply “The Great War”. He even remembers the rest of the Latin - pro patria mori.
It is sweet and right to die for ones country.
No it isn’t, he thinks. It is terrible.
But they have to ask it of their people all the same.
“You-Know-Who is growing in power,” Minerva says. “Watching the students in class… more and more of them are whispering his views. He recruited while he was at Hogwarts, Albus, and he and his continue to do so.”
“We will fight,” Albus says. It is simple - how can they not? Grindelwald was much of a continent away, other Ministries too proud or too scared to ask for help, or, when they did, left in the wake of Gellert’s passing with no trace of the man who had travelled far ahead. The hoops jumped through to find Gellert, to hunt him down, to duel him…
That had taken too long. For all the harm Tom Riddle meant to do, they could at least be certain he was doing so on their home ground, where they could fight back directly.
Through, Albus supposed, it was Tom’s home ground too.
“We will fight,” he says. “We cannot have another Grindelwald.”
iv.Gellert had made spells that acted like the gas canisters of the Great War. Noxium Caeli, Spiritus Venenum, Aeras Toxini. Gifttod. Working in so many ways and through so many shields that someone always died.
A poison gas seeping through the ranks, until someone stumbled and fell and choked and died.
The survivors would have nightmares of it forever.
v.“Not everyone will want to fight,” Minerva says. “Not everyone wants to acknowledge it.”
Dumbledore nods. “The purebloods stand to gain from it, or so they think.”
“So we talk first to the muggleborns?”
And have them fight our war for us? In a world they have only just come to know?
“I suppose we must. Adults, though, not students.”
Minerva’s shock is visible on her face. “Never students.”
Dumbledore knows though, how, sometimes, the only ones left to ask are children. How sometimes, they are the only ones who will fight. How sometimes, the only ones who fight the fight are those fighting for themselves. What was it Niemöller had said?
First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—Because I was not a Socialist.
Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—Because I was not a Trade Unionist.
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—Because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.
Dumbledore nods. “Let the others know.”
Minerva nods and turns to go. Dumbledore considers the painting, considers the poem writ large beside it, from beginning to end. 
All the terrors of war - who will fight it? The old who want rest? The young who are the future? Those who must or die?
He sighs, he turns, he, too, leaves the Museum.
The last lines of the poem echo in his mind.
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest)  To children ardent for some desperate glory, The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est Pro patria mori.
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anghraine · 1 year
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brotherskywalker replied to this post:
File off the serial numbers and publish it as an original fic. That was my plan for my GW2 inspired story.
I'm not sure how well this one would function as an original fic, tbh! It's got Tybalt, the Order of Whispers, time jumps, it's an AU of a different fic with a handful of readers (which one of the OFCs comes from), etc.
That said, the ealrier fic it spun off from did give me an idea for an original story that's not quite GW2 fic but deeply influenced by the Ascalonian diaspora issues in the game. It files off quite a few serial numbers, and draws a lot on the previous fic, though the story ultimately has a different plot and point. I've also get one in the same universe about the analogues to the Charr after they've had a revolution (for the better), though that's even more removed from the game.
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anghraine · 1 year
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I haven't written any fiction of substantial length for ages, and then suddenly wrote four pages of GW2 fic today. It's a pro patria AU in which a totally different character is the proto-Pact Commander and Althea is a random Lightbringer:
Gwen Velazquez regretted many things about her time among the Bloodcrow bandits. Robbing aristocrats was not one of them. 
It wasn’t hard, between her flair for illusions and the way their gazes flitted past the struggling poor among them. What was one more overworked servant to a noble? She’d disliked them for years before that, as long as she could remember—disliked their indifference to the suffering around them, disliked their cushion of wealth and greed for more, disliked the way they hoarded so much of Kryta’s land that after two centuries in this country, nearly all her people were still crowded into two cramped districts and one distant settlement. A year of close proximity to them, keeping watch for the Bloodcrow gang and seizing opportunities, had only deepened her dislike to quiet hatred.
Except for the charr, she loathed no one more. And her parents had died fighting for Ebonhawke.
[...]
“Who was that?” Gwen asked Tybalt in a low voice. “The woman who was here?”
“You’ve got a good eye,” he said, and even the low growl of the charr sounded somehow amiable.
Gwen frowned.
“A new Lightbringer,” he said. “Althea’s the name. You’ll probably work with her sooner or later—you’ve got some important things in common.”
Her scowl deepened. “I doubt that.”
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anghraine · 1 year
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@elwing just tagged me in the "share the last line of fic you wrote" meme! Conveniently, I was just indulging myself in niche (i.e. for me) fic today. Slightly cheating because I can :)
Gwen Velazquez always knew the Seraph would hunt her down one day. But she never imagined it would happen the way it did.
Tagging: @ladytharen, @brynnmclean, @ncfan-1, @irresistible-revolution, if you've got fic you'd like to use for it!
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anghraine · 1 year
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I was searching for an unrelated-to-the-Ascalonian-grudgeblogging GW2 thing, but ended up reading a grumpy recap of the core storyline from someone playing a Charr Vigil member. Surprisingly, they were like, "you know, honestly, all these people wondering why Ascalonians still have a grudge against Charr kind of need a slap in the face. Also, why do Krytans have so much say over what happens to Ebonhawke, anyway? Does it have sovereignty or not?"
I do support slapping every person who is like "why don't they just get over a 250-year long attempt to eradicate them? What a silly grudge" but I don't often see actual players saying so!
I also find the sovereignty issue genuinely interesting.
My impression is that Ebonhawke is nominally an independent city-state, but the alliance with Kryta has been critical enough (esp recently) that they weren't in a position for direct conflict over this "regent of Ascalon" business. So the people of Ebonhawke don't accept Jennah as sovereign—there are even Ascalonian residents of Divinity's Reach who don't—but they also can't afford an open break with Kryta and this is where a lot of their resentment is coming from.
Ebonhawke drawing so much of the Charr's attention in the war was pretty beneficial to Kryta, so I suspect their support was not purely altruistic even without the claim to sovereignty. It's made clear in various storylines that Ebonhawke falling would be disastrous for Kryta. Additionally, the Krytan government offered valuable support and supplies to Ebonhawke, but couldn't really spare much direct military support, so Ascalonians are also conscious that they suffered most of the direct casualties of the war, to the benefit of Kryta. So it makes sense that the relationship is complicated and ambiguous!
Honestly, the tensions surrounding the Ebonhawke-Kryta alliance, the various political maneuvers involved, and the effects of all this on the Ascalonian diaspora are some of the most intriguing aspects of the game to me. The writing is definitely skewed towards the Krytan perspective, to be sure—PCs of any background will remark that Kryta is generous(!) to allow Ebonhawke its own representative in the peace negotiations, for instance. But it's not so skewed that you can't see why Ascalonians insist on their independence from Krytan rule.
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anghraine · 1 year
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I'll put most of this under a cut because GW2 headcanons are irrelevant to most of my followers' fandom experience, but I've been thinking more about headcanons for my two main versions of the GW2 PC.
The storyline does not actually allow for two Pact Commanders to exist simultaneously, so in your character's story, all other people's characters are ... I guess, AU non-Commander versions of themselves you can cooperate with, and I figured the same could go for different PCs of your own. So there is a Xiulan in the Pact Commander Althea verse (pro patria), but an AU version where her backstory doesn't conflict with Althea's.
So stuff about pro patria!verse Xiulan:
Xiulan is tall and rather lean, with brown hair, brown skin, and nearly black eyes.
Although she's descended from both Canthan and Orrian immigrants, and she identifies equally with both peoples, she physically resembles the Canthan side much more and typically presents/describes herself as Canthan (especially when it's assumed she's Ascalonian).
Her last name, Azar, comes from her mother's Orrian family, but the Orrian diaspora is so small, and their culture so unknown to most Krytans, that few can recognize it.
Both sides of her family have managed to quietly scrape by in the Salma District of Divinity's Reach for generations, and Xiulan only knows Cantha and Orr through family accounts passed from her parents.
She's an only child.
Her mother, Judith Azar, came into a little extra money in her youth and promptly gave it to her bff Andrew to help keep his tavern afloat. He never forgot this, and he took Xiulan under his wing when her parents died in an accident when she was fourteen.
His sensible, spirited daughter Petra was Xiulan's best friend as they grew up, and all the more after Xiulan became effectively part of their household.
Xiulan's first kiss was with Petra, though more as a matter of curiosity than romantic feeling. She is 100% lesbian, but she and Petra were too much family at that point to feel altogether comfortable, and they laughed about it afterwards.
Strangers often have the impression that Xiulan is smaller than she really is, both in height and build, and even when they do correctly judge her size, they typically underestimate her strength.
Unusually for someone of her strength, she also has some magical ability with fire—as a child, she would breathe little flames when she got angry, and every weapon she touches becomes encased with flame.
Between these and her flair for strategy, those around her have often said she must be blessed by Balthazar, god of war and fire.
At fifteen, Andrew and Petra convinced an embarrassed Xiulan to ask the local priest of Balthazar if he could tell if it was true. After questioning her and observing her, he assured her that their suspicion was correct, which only deepened the already very devout Xiulan's devotion to the gods, and especially to Balthazar.
dun dun dun
Additionally, the priest offered to recommend her for free training in the military arts, as a way of honoring Balthazar. She eagerly agreed and proved sufficiently gifted to catch the eye of local members of the Vigil.
No members of the Vigil spoke to her yet, but they noted their observations about the local girl in their reports to their higher-ups, and Almorra Soulkeeper herself ordered them to keep a close eye on Xiulan.
Xiulan is privately very fond of "the finer things of life"—fine jewelry, clothes, armor, and weapons, though she doesn't have the resources to actually own much. However, she does own and wear a fine hair piece of Canthan design, which her father had managed to combine with two (very) small heirloom Orrian stones from Judith's family. (It isn't cursed, since her ancestors emigrated before the Cataclysm.)
Xiulan becomes acquainted with Logan Thackeray just after she would in the canonical timeline—that is, not through the battle at Shaemoor (in which Lady Althea Fairchild rushed to his rescue), but in the conflict with local bandits, the rescue of the Queen's Heart orphanage (she has a soft spot for orphans), and their maneuvers against the aristocratic Commander Serentine's plots.
Xiulan has seen Althea before, usually accompanying Faren in the tavern and trying to keep him from getting too drunk. She doesn't know her and has rarely had cause to say much in her presence, but she can recognize her even before Althea's heroics catapult her to local celebrity status.
Xiulan looks vaguely (very vaguely) familiar to Althea, but when their paths cross in a way that involves actual interaction, she can't pin down where she's seen her before.
They meet by chance in Ebonhawke, which Althea is visiting after her induction into the Order of Whispers, while Xiulan has just been successfully recruited into the Vigil and is there to help safeguard the peace talks with the Charr.
The Vigil members stationed at Ebonhawke tend to be disapproving or even bewildered about the Ascalonians' ongoing resentment of the Charr, especially non-human Vigil members. Xiulan, on the other hand, was raised with stories of Orr and the Charr invasion ultimately leading to her people's eternal undead servitude to Zhaitan. She doesn't make a point out of it and she understands their value as fighters and their contributions to The Cause, but she gets the Ascalonians' towering resentment over the 250-year attempt to obliterate them and pride in their own survival.
This becomes relevant when a Vigil member is cluelessly talking to a visibly frustrated Althea about how the people here just don't understand, they're so short-sighted, blahblah, and Xiulan's tolerance finally snaps and she quietly sticks up for Althea and the people of Ebonhawke. It's not flashy, but it's enough for her to be dismissively addressed as "Recruit Xiulan" by the other members.
Althea doesn't forget her name again.
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anghraine · 2 years
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@mothwick—I hope you don’t mind me replying to your comment on a separate post, since my original one was so long. (As is this one, lol.)
I very casually RP a charr in game, and I love making her purposefully knowing of and unrepentant of her involvement in the siege of Ebonhawke and the war in general. In her view, the charr absolutely won the war and they won in spades: she can walk freely in any human city she pleases and still humans are not a thing in the Citadel. She respects the Ascalonians' grit and perseverance, and she won't be caught in the Reach without other charr around; she's polite when she needs to be but she is entirely unrepentant and would willingly go to war again if asked. She's committed warcrimes and does not care because that's her culture and that's her land; wiping the slate clean of any trace of the enemy is a basic strategy, nbd. :>
This is interesting for a few reasons, honestly!
I do not personally RP, but I do have a lot of headcanons and I’ve written quite a bit of fic, and I enjoy imagining Althea, my human PC, as an even more extreme Ascalonian partisan than I am myself (she’s not pro-Separatist, but would be sympathetic if they confined themselves to attacking Charr). So I do get the enjoyment in leaning into these elements in canon, and tbh your Charr character is more in line with how the game characterizes Charr (iirc it basically says conquest and war crimes are part of their culture in character creation) than mine is with how the game characterizes the human PC (you can choose to come from a proudly Ascalonian family if you’re careful, but it has zero effect on later dialogue and there are only a few occasions where a human PC will speak up for Ascalonians in-game).
It is kind of funny to me, though, that (while it’s predictable) our characters’ perspectives are so completely diametrically opposed. Althea regards the Charr as failures. Their goal was total conquest of Ascalon, Orr, and Kryta, none of which they achieved. The Ascalonian Separatists are active and numerous throughout much of Charr-occupied Ascalon, the Ascalonian ghosts are a constant threat to the Charr, and despite pretty vast advantages after the Searing, the Charr never managed to fully overthrow human Ascalon by taking Ebonhawke, and ultimately ended up handing over additional territory and bases to Ebonhawke.
Meanwhile, Khilbron obliterated Orr rather than submit to the Charr/suffer a repetition of the Searing. Kryta, for all its struggles, remains a sovereign human nation in close alliance with Ebonhawke (while tensions run high with Charr NPCs in Divinity’s Reach).
It does make sense to me that most Charr would look at their dominance over some 90% of human Ascalon and see themselves as the clear victors in the situation. But Althea is definitely someone who goes to Ebonhawke, to the Black Citadel, to the various bases and outposts in Ascalon, and has complex feelings but ultimately, human survival in Ascalon feels like a bittersweet kind of triumph. In the fic, she thinks:
The treaty meant relinquishing nearly all of Ascalon to brutal conquerors. But it also meant that it was nearly and not all. They would never hold Ascalon in its entirety. They would never be free of us.
Ever.
That said, I do think it’s interesting that the game goes out of its way to give human NPCs such a variety of emotional responses to the conflict with the Charr, the Searing, the Foefire, Ebonhawke, the general matter of Ascalon. You’ve got humans who are completely dismissive of Ascalonian-specific trauma and think they should just get over it already, you’ve got people who hate the treaty but also despise Separatists, you’ve got people who are just glad the siege is over and they can see more of their homeland, you’ve got people who are pragmatic about this being the best deal they were going to get, you’ve got an Ascalonian Priory member who bitterly protects the Searing cauldron as an artifact to be studied, you’ve got tensions between the Ascalonians who fought in the sieges vs the diaspora.
The most normative Ascalonian position seems to be grim acceptance that hanging onto Ebonhawke takes priority over some doomed attempt to retake Ascalon, and the Charr are useful allies against the greater threat of the dragons (this is Althea’s fundamental position as well). But there is a lot of complexity there and some outright disagreement, whether on the not-quite-but-nearly-Separatist side or the “idgaf about the Charr actually” side.
But the game doesn’t really allow the Charr that kind of range, I don’t think? The original post that @kazaera was responding to was about the single Charr NPC who described the Flame Legion as “murderous villains” for attacking a bunch of Ascalonian civilian refugees, but iirc neither he nor any other Charr ever applies that logic to the general Charr attempt to wipe out Ascalonians, many of whom were indeed civilians. There does seem this double standard where Ascalonians are expected to be capable of critical thinking about their cultural narratives wrt the conquest but the Charr aren’t.
It makes sense in a systematic way (marginalized people are often expected to be more careful and nuanced in response to their suffering than those who inflict it or benefit from it are) but the lack of even a single Charr opponent of the conquest because none of them questions their fundamental cultural values, ever, is one of the aspects of the game that I find both unpalatable and a bit difficult to believe. This isn’t an issue with your specific character, though—even if there were counter-cultural Charr the way there are humans shrugging off the war and Soundless sylvari and Asura protesting unethical research and such, they’d be very atypical of Charr in general, and yours seems very characteristic of canonical Charr. And my own headcanon pushes against in-game dialogue to make my PC more like canonical Ascalonians, so I can’t judge!
(I do choose to believe there are a few counter-cultural Charr out there somewhere, though. I imagine that a very few are out and out pacifists—the true Charr punks, lol—but more of them are just people who had an “are we the baddies...?” revelation and now fight other Charr over valuable Ascalonian relics only to turn over the relics to very surprised humans in Ebonhawke and Rurikton. Stuff like that. I like to think that someday there will be an Ascalonian museum in Ebonhawke with a kind of baffled “Acquired via the Gutrender warband” plaque or something.)
In contrast to my guy who's the Krytan-born son of Ascalonian refugees and has extremely strong opinions about the genocide and the lack of apology, reparations, or assistance given to his people. (He also has strong opinions about sylvari -- the sylvari's newness in Tyria is something that isn't really explored either. He's got some grim takes and stories to tell there.) It's still not a subject that I am very familiar with yet but I'm learning and I'm looking forward to pressing those issues and telling those stories with these characters.
That sounds interesting, too! Definitely a very different perspective (I think the total lack of apology or assistance would be very relevant to what a bitter pill they have to swallow), and yeah, while people in game are kind of “...” about the sylvari at times (even before Mordremoth), it does kind of underplay how peculiar they must seem. Good luck!
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anghraine · 1 year
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So, I'm playing Xiulan with my family in our GW2 sessions, and still having a lot of fun, though I'm a bit unsure when it comes to judging how much damage to absorb after almost always playing light armor spellcasters (my mother's main is an elementalist with Power stats, so my usual judgment of how much damage she and Althea could take was "none").
I've only gotten Xiulan's storyline to the beginning of the Vigil arc and I haven't written anything on pro patria in ages, but I am having "AU Xiulan in pro patria" thoughts nevertheless! I mean, she definitely exists in the pro patria universe (along with AU versions of my headcanon-y PCs like Magister Isabel and Lightbringer Gwen). And given that the early Vigil arc takes place in Althea's birthplace, which Althea is visiting at this moment in pro patria ... hmm.
Hmmmm.
#anghraine babbles#anghraine's gaming#anghraine's headcanons#fic talk#fic talk: pro patria#ascalonian grudgeblog#xiulan azar#althea fairchild#most vigil members in the area are all 'these silly ascalonians with their silly grudges about being nearly wiped off the face of tyria'#and meanwhile xiulan is there and not about to talk about being orrian but she feels plenty of solidarity wrt the towering resentment#about just having to accept that the culture whose actions led pretty directly to her diaspora never cared about that and still don't#and are never going to make it right#but where althea's towering resentment has to be navigated through her pragmatism and dealing with tybalt#xiulan is more like ... you know how sometimes people are super intense about being good allies to the point of seeming a bit odd#and then two years later they've realized they're actually gay or whatever#this is a bit like that—she's a canthan-krytan just being a good ally to other humans. the best ally! so sympathetic and understanding!#and eventually she and althea are on good enough terms that she confides that she's understanding bc she UNDERSTANDS#althea (blankly): yes that's what-#xiulan: it's not theoretical. i know exactly how you feel.#althea: you're ascalonian? why didn't you ever say anything?#xiulan (taking a deep breath): i'm not. it's ... my mother's family. they were from orr until—you know.#althea: O_O#obviously they'll make out eventually. still figuring out the details of that also :P#better just start this tag now:#althea x xiulan
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anghraine · 1 year
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On the GW2 blog, I've been painstakingly going through the Commander!Gwen version of the personal story with descriptions of my headcanon additions/amendments, which is less interesting than fic, but also prevents me from giving into the temptation to write pro patria v. 2.0.
That said, the post I just drafted started as rationale for a (brief) separation between the Order Neophyte and Helping Hands arcs in my headcanon, and description of what I actually do headcanon as happening between the arcs, but once it touched on Gwen opening up somewhat to Tybalt, it morphed into full on narrative fic.
>_<
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