#just to add a little mystery

[separatist-apologist]

Take Me Back To The Night We Met

Summary: Gwyneth Berdara wants nothing more than to return home and exact revenge on the courtiers who hurt her and killed her sister. Exiled to a distant temple, Gwyn finds herself at the mercy of a mysterious stranger offering to escort her home on orders from her eldest brother and king of the realm.

Unraveling the secrets of the strange soldier will prove more deadly than Gwyn could ever have imagined, setting into motion events that began nearly five hundred years before.

Happy @gwynrielweeksofficial!

TW for mentions of past sexual assault

Read on Ao3 | Chapter 1

Gwyn found herself seated before Merrill while Clotho stood just behind. It was another gloomy day, threatening rain which made the study seem darker by comparison. Merrill had books stacked so high they created walls within the four walls of her office and everything was claustrophobic. Gwyn knew she wasn’t supposed to fidget—both princesses and priestesses were expected to have a perfectly rigid spine. 

Merrill was dragging this meeting out, watching Gwyn with that haughty suspicion she was all too familiar with. Eris could have picked her for a wife, Gwyn thought privately. They shared so much in common already. Gwyn could only imagine who he’d selected, certain it was some nightmare from the south looking to enhance her fathers power while tormenting the court.

Gwyn was going to beg her brother to let her take up residence at the sea palace. She’d put on her bravest, sunniest face, dance and smile and laugh, and then at the end of the festivities, swear she barely thought of Catrin at all and could she please spend a few months looking at the sea?

Maybe he’d be too busy trying to put babies in his new wife to care what she did. Gwyn very much doubted her other brothers had strong opinions on where she was or what she did. But she’d make sure they saw her, too. Smiling–happy. Alive, which was more than Catrin could say. 

It wouldn’t matter if either of those things were lies. 

As if they could tell the difference.

“Gwyneth,” Merril began, eyes focused wholly on Gwyn. The priestess was a beautiful woman—young, too, for someone so revered. It annoyed Gwyn that Merrill referred to her as Gwyneth—even Eris didn’t bother. Neither had their father, who had always called her princess in that mocking, sneering way of his. 

Gwyn could have demanded Merrill address her properly. Could have made the priestess bow so low her nose scraped the stone floor beneath them. It was tempting and yet wrong all at the same time. Gwyn settled for fidgeting, holding Merrill’s gaze and daring her to say something about it. 

“Your brother has released you from your service here,” Merrill continued, eyes narrowing. “You will leave with the knight tomorrow. We’ve packed you a few provisions but I wanted to discuss the books in your bedroom.”

Gwyn forced herself to maintain eye contact. “What books?”

Clotho offered up a wordless sigh, her fingers slowly moving through the air. Gwyn had never dared to ask what had happened to Clotho or why she didn’t speak. If it was natural or self-imposed, Gwyn couldn’t say. She wouldn’t have cared had it not been for those fingers of hers. They’d been purposefully broken by someone and it didn’t look as if they’d ever properly healed.

Merrill drummed her own fingers against the desk, clearly annoyed and unable to do much but wait.

Don’t leave as angry as you came in, Gwyn. 

“Who says I’m angry?” Gwyn replied, adopting her sweetest voice. Clotho leveled a stare, not needing a word to call Gwyn a liar. 

“Bring the books back before you go,” Merrill added snappishly. “They are not for you or the palace.”

“Everything in Ellesmere belongs to the king,” Gwyn replied, though this wasn’t a battle she wanted to fight. She knew she’d bring them back and Merrill must have, too, because she reclined back in her chair, a queen holding court before her subjects. Gwyn bristled but rose to her feet and inclined her head, making a mockery of the whole thing.

At least she could have the last word. 

There was no chance Merrill didn’t write Eris ahead of time and give him her perspective of Gwyn’s time at the temple. Eris would be so irritated with her. What, she wondered, would his knight tell her brother, too? If she was difficult and unladylike, would that be held against her? If she had a nightmare, if she couldn’t keep a smile plastered to her face? 

Gwyn made her way out to the vegetable garden, ignoring several hens pecking at the soil so she could plop onto a wooden bench. Only there, beneath that moody, gray sky, did she dare vocalize some of her frustration with a long, quiet scream. 

No one ever came out here. It was reasonable to assume she was alone. But there he was, appearing seemingly out of the mist with a cocked head and curious eyes. “Heard the good news, did you?”

Gwyn toward the heavens. What have I done to displease you? “I still have a day before I’m remanded into your company,” she replied, unable to even pretend she was excited. 

The soldier—Azriel—sat beside her, though he kept a respectable distance between them. “You’re the only person willing to speak to me.”

“The priestesses aren’t keen on men,” Gwyn replied, glancing over at him. He was too beautiful to be trustworthy, besides. It set her on edge, too—made her nervous though she was a princess and he was practically no one at all. Why should he make her nervous? He was injured if his limp was any indication and the cut across his throat was stark in comparison to the golden brown of skin. Gwyn would have bet his ribs were all taped up still and if she needed to, she could just outrun him. 

Though he’d given her no reason to distrust him, Gwyn felt she had to be careful. 

“I’ve noticed,” he replied, settling back to look up at the sky. “Your head priestess has refused my offers to sleep outside.”

“I don’t think that would help,” Gwyn admitted, a new thought coming to her. “Will it be just you and me on the road?”

He cut a glance in her direction. “Yes.”

Two options presented themselves, each offering a different, potent form of anxiety. Gwyn could refuse to spend another minute in this man's presence and stay at the convent, no longer her brother's ward but as an actual priestess. She’d have to give up the title that had protected her and the station she’d always intended to fall back on. There would be no Sea Palace, no visiting Catrin’s grave, no more of her brothers or the life she’d once known.

And she’d likely lose her position in the library. That seemed the most offensive to Gwyn.

But if she went with him, she risked violence. He was a stranger with a pretty face and Gwyn didn’t trust men. Even low born men felt they were owed something from women. Alone, on the road…who could stop him if he decided to take more than she was offering? 

He didn’t seem interested in her internal warring, or at the very least, didn’t recognize what was happening. Having delivered the news, Azriel rose to his feet and began making his way further from the temple, unleashed and allowed. He didn’t look back, nor did he return to her long after the fog had consumed him. 

What would Catrin do, she wondered? 

Catrin would go home. She’d get out of this nightmare even if she had to claw her way out, and if Azriel was the only way to do it, Catrin was grit her teeth and figure it out. Gwyn could still boss him around, she reasoned. Could force him to stay on main roads, to rent rooms in taverns, to travel only during daylight. Gwyn had never quite managed the haughty, imperious nature of her siblings but perhaps she could try. 

Maybe she could channel a little of Eris’s attitude just this once if it meant freedom. 

At least, that’s what Gwyn told herself. Still, she barely slept that night, tossing and turning as she played out a million terrible scenarios and how she might react. Eris wouldn’t send someone cruel, would he? 

No, not intentionally—but Eris also wouldn’t concern himself with whether Gwyn felt safe so much as he would concern himself with who could get her home the quickest. Clearly it was this man who, despite provoking the ire of some unknown assailant, had all but crawled to the temple and was apparently ready to go a mere day later. 

Gwyn doubted Eris paid enough for that kind of loyalty. And still she packed up her things with a faint buzzing of excitement. She was leaving. Gods, but Gwyn would never have to see this place again, this prison dressed up as a religious institution. And the gods willing, she’d be home in a matter of days without any intention or returning.

Surely Eris could hand over the estate by the sea and allow her to have her own household. Gwyn would have to work on appearing chasetend, of course—like she’d learned some grand lesson and was now ready to be a member of their household. 

It was the happiest she’d been since Catrin died. The entire mood of the temple was upbeat, something that barely wounded her. They were all excited to see her go, forgetting that once she was no longer there, they’d have to pick a new target for their ire. Absently, Gwyn wondered which of them it would be. Who would become the new scapegoat for everyone's dissatisfaction? Would they realize the problem had never been with her?

Doubtful. 

The only person Gwyn felt compelled to truly say goodbye to was Clotho. She didn’t hate Clotho so much as she hated that Clotho upheld the rules her brother had obviously set in place. Standing before her in the library, a bag slung over her shoulder, Gwyn heard herself saying, “I’m sorry I was so difficult.” Clotho’s fingers were quick with a response. You were never difficult, Gwyneth. I hope you find healing, wherever you go.

Gwyn choked down the urge to cry, nodding her head and keeping her face impassive. “I appreciate that.”

There was nothing else. Azriel was waiting outside by the barn with leads to two horses looped around a gloved hand. Merril led Gwyn out, snapping out her displeasure over Azriel’s presence and how Gwyn had made a mess of her routine, her research—everything. It was only when they were nearly to the courtyard that Merril offered Gwyn any kindness at all.

“For you,” she said, pulling a small, pale blue box from beneath her cloak. “Don’t let him know you have it.” Gwyn looked up at the woman who could have been her mentor with surprise. There, nestled among soft velvet, lay a silver hilted dagger that curved in a wickedly lethal point. A flash of recognition passed between the two of them, gone so fast Gwyn blinked and nearly missed it. But there it was—two souls who, on some level, knew what kind of danger might be waiting for Gwyn.

And despite Merril’s dislike of her, she was seemingly unwilling to let Gwyn risk it all again without some kind of aid. Gwyn took it, unsure where she could even hide it and decided on her bag for the moment until she found something better. It would slice right through her pockets which, while an amusing image, was not the kind of stealth she was aiming for. 

“Thank you,” Gwyn murmured but Merril had already turned, her job clearly done. That was all Gwyn was ever going to get and so, with a breath to keep herself from hurtling a bunch of unfair, hurtful accusations at the retreating priestesses back, Gwyn turned for the world outside.

It was another moody, miserable day made moodier still by Azriel’s flat expression. Gone were his casual, comfortable clothes, replaced by thick, black armored leather that looked frankly uncomfortable. Two lethal blades were curved behind his shoulders and a dagger was strapped to his thigh.

Where was his red cape, she wondered? That was the mark of all of Eris’s men, the red cape with the golden clasp marking the sunlight insignia of their family. Gwyn marched up to him intending to demand to know but Azriel cut her off. “No one can know we’re traveling, princess.”

Ass.

“Why not?” she demanded, yanking the reins of the one of the midnight black horses from his hands. Azriel let her, his eyes hot against her back. 

“There is one of me and one of you,” was his level, near cold response. “I’d rather not find out what the King will do if I let his sister die on the road.”

“I doubt he’d care at all,” Gwyn said without thinking, the words slipping bitterly from her lips. Azriel glanced up at her, seated now in the well-oiled saddle, a question lingering in his gaze.

Wisely, he kept it to himself and instead swung a powerful leg over his own horse, the movement effortlessly graceful and strangely fluid. Hardly a common soldier, then, though not an elite warrior, either. He was something else, something she didn’t have any knowledge of.

That was likely for the best, all things considered.

“We’ll travel until nightfall,” Azriel began, digging his heels into the flank of his beast. Her own followed of its own accord, as though it had been given some silent command. Gwyn knew how to ride a horse—had been taught as a girl, like all good royals. She didn’t need his help.

“I won’t be sleeping outside,” Gwyn told him in the snottiest voice she could manage. Eris would be proud—she sounded just like him.

“I’m well aware,” Azriel replied without humor. “You’ll be locked in a tavern room. And before you get any ideas, princess, I will be just outside.”

“What ideas—”

“I’m told you run away. Often,” he added, those hazel eyes focused straight ahead. 

Eris was such a cheat. Of course he’d warn this man, likely with veiled threats of what would happen if Gwyn slipped his grasp. The thought of trying occurred to her, though something in the set of his shoulders told her it was better not to try his patience. Clotho had never truly been angry with Gwyn. Impatient, frustrated, even irritated, yes. But truly angry? Never.

She had the feeling this man might raise his voice. Might yell. And he’d learn, if he did, that all her talk was merely bravado and beneath she crumpled easily. There was no Catrin to create a wall, to shield Gwyn from the tempers of the world while Gwyn sniffed, eyes welling with tears.

Even as a grown woman, anger so often provoked the sobbing reaction. 

“Well. I’m trying to leave this place, not return to it,” Gwyn told him, some of that haughtiness gone. She had a good plan, one that seemed achievable and promised relief. Get home. Fake enough contrition that Eris stopped thinking about her, which was almost the same as his concern. And then, once he was in a good mood—perhaps the night before his wedding, when he was likely to be a little drunk and too focused on himself to think of his wayward siblings—ask for the Seaside Palace. Maybe, she reasoned, she could ask to just go for a while and acclimate herself back into royal life.

And once she was gone and no longer causing mischief, Eris would let her stay if only to have one less person to worry about. 

“You want to return to the palace?” Azriel inquired, as though this was difficult to believe.

Gwyn twisted in her saddle, looking over her shoulder at the temple atop the hill, fading quickly in the creeping fog, its spindled fingers forever reaching for the sky without ever quite reaching. How was anyone supposed to feel human in a place dedicated to the gods? 

“It’s my home,” she said softly, turning her eyes toward the paved road ahead, curving over lush, green hills that promised freedom. In truth, the palace had long stopped being her home and yet that was where Catrin’s ghost still lived, where half of Gwyn’s heart was buried. Perhaps she could fill the aching yawn stretching in her chest, could finally have some closure.

It was tempting, right then, to ask Azriel about court life. Some sick urge wanted to know who still lingered in those ornate marble halls. She never wanted to hear the names spoken and yet thought of them so often, wondering how their lives had gone, that Gwyn was constantly at war with herself. There was no outcome that would bring her peace because no matter what happened to them, Catrin was still dead and Gwyn was still alone.

Though, she supposed being allowed to kill them would be a close second. 

Azriel asked her no more questions, settling into a comfortable pace. On occasion he stopped to let the horses graze and rest, but for the most part they rode in silence. It left Gwyn with too much time to think, and thinking very quickly turned to ruminating. She knew she couldn’t change the past and yet…if only she’d told Eris sooner. If only she’d kept what happened to herself. Catrin might still be alive and Gwyn wouldn’t feel so angry and hollow. 

They’d been more than just sisters. Gwyn and Catrin had shared a womb, a body, a soul. Tilting her face skyward, Gwyn would have given anything to tell Catrin how sorry she was. And when a cool breeze fluttered against her overheated cheeks, Gwyn thought it was Catrin’s hand reassuring her everything was alright.

She tried to find contentment with that. 

Azriel had promised her a room, and he managed to deliver. After what felt like miles of nothing, a dilapidated village appeared just as the sun began to dip, casting even weaker light over the gloomy world. Gwyn pulled her cloak a little tighter against her shoulders as they made their way through high, iron gates covered in curling ivy. The homes were made of stone and wood, the windows chipped and covered with boards to keep out the rainy chill.

It unnerved Gwyn how no one moved around. It wasn’t that late and yet had there not been flickering candle light behind some of the filth covered glass, she would have thought the entire village was inhabited by ghosts. The tavern Azriel promised had a rotted wooden sign banging about in the wind, unreadable from the elements.

Someone came out to meet them, taking the reins from Azriel wordlessly in exchange for a couple coins pressed into a weathered palm. Gwyn said nothing, keeping her hood over her head to obscure the auburn hair that would mark her as a Vanserra. Hers was darker than her brothers—more cinnamon and gold than true coppery red—and still something about it made people pause. 

Azriel nodded for her to go inside, pulling the handle to a swinging door so she could duck beneath his arm.

“Say nothing,” he murmured, his lips barely moving. For once, Gwyn was inclined to do as she was told. Keeping herself close, Gwyn followed him over creaking wood boards toward a chipped and warped desk where an exhausted looking matron stood, her eyes fixed on the pair of them. 

She’d been told not to speak, and so she didn’t. While Azriel asked for one room, his voice low and intimate, Gwyn took the opportunity to survey their lodgings for the evening. The tavern was just that—a tavern first, room for rent second. Exhausted bodies were hunched over tarnished cups and worn bowls of food, steam curling around wan faces. Gwyn was tempted and nervous all at once.

It was a room filled with unfamiliar people, the majority of which were men. Azriel spared her the agonizing, gloved fingers reaching for her elbow to tug her in the opposite direction toward narrow, spiraling stairs.

“I’m hungry,” she whispered.

Behind them, the door opened and two men stepped into the room. Like Gwyn, their faces were obscured by rather fine looking cloaks and yet she knew without seeing them at all that they didn’t belong. Azriel’s eyes slid over their frames without recognition, turning back to her as the two large, powerfully built men made their way toward the tavern.

“I’ll bring you something to eat,” he replied, level as always. “In your room.”

“Fine,” she hissed, though relief pierced her irritation. “I want a lot of it.”

He only shrugged, as though it didn’t bother him one way or the other. How much gold had Eris given him, she wondered? Enough to keep her fed, which was a relief. Food was a good substitute for feeling at time, and Gwyn was tired of how raw she felt. She’d eat, she’d bathe, and she’d go to bed.

After all. She was one day closer to home.

#these chapters used to be longer but i took out all the az pov #just to add a little mystery #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel shadowsinger

[juliasgoodusername]

Say what you will, at least we got Dungeons and Dragons enthusiast Matthew Lynch

#idk why the greywaren shade started so recently like what unlocked this #i agree with it I'm just a little simple and i have nothing to add ☺️ #anyway Matthew would be the best DM. he has never prepped for a session in his whole life but he's a savant his process is mysterious #his ideal campaign group is Henry Calla Jordan and Adam #i said what i said #trc #tdt #matthew lynch #my art

[thespoonisvictory]

still making excuses for oisin in my head btw just to keep you all updated

#d20 #fhjy #I am CONVINCED it is not as simple as the rat grinders being evil little haters #like.. maybe I'm overcomplicating it but idk #besides the fact it's not really brennan's MO I think the rat grinders have some big pieces of info wrong #and are acting uninformed in some way whether that's devils nectar etc #don't ask me what I think is going on with kipperlily I have not a clue #I just think that her saying she didn't want to involve oisin in the material purchasing is important #meta gamey wise I think he would have pushed oisin and maryann harder as allies if the ultimate outcome #is them as straight up enemies #same with ivy in a way #that klck IS jace theory is crazy but I kind of love it so that's swirling in my brain somewhere #I'm just so fascinated by her and the fact that her rage against riz is long term is CRAZY and adds such a layer here #god I love how brennan writes a mystery bc I am all turned around but so intrigued #I can't believe I get to watch a bad kids season live as it comes out having the time of my life

[sphnyspinspin]

The General

— — —

The fight was over…this stranger that came out of nowhere got the jump on them. Arcee was pinned down underneath the newcomer’s left pede, Bumblebee was being held by his neck by only a singular, huge, servo, and Breakdown was decommissioned, as he was practically hurled across clearing. This stranger wore a decepticon badge across their chassis, and with that in mind, guess it would make sense for them to attack a seemingly defenseless autobot squadron when the opportunity arose. Despite one member of the group having a decepticon badge, that didn't stop them from being attacked by someone who was from the same faction apparently.

And then the stranger finally spoke, “Now that that’s settled…so tell me…how, and why, are you here?” staring straight into Bee’s optics as he was too banged up to properly escape the decepticon’s grip on his neck.

With gritted dente and a wince from the yellow autobot, he was just about to speak up until he was interrupted by Arcee’s strained reply, “Who wants to know? I-I take it that you’re not-ugh, from around h-here. Are ya?” as she was struggling to find some sort of bearing, she kept trying to hoist herself up, but the big pede connected to an even bigger bot kept pushing her back into place.

Looking down at the pink autobot underneath their pede, “That’s confidential. And I wasn’t asking you.” Then the weight underneath their pede suddenly shifted as they slowly added more of their weight onto Arcee’s already beaten up frame.

There might as well be a large footprint embedded into her chassis after this. As the pede lowered down, compressing Arcee slowly, until the weight was taken right back off of it, so that the autobot could appropriately answer the question. “Now let's try this again. And some quick advice, stay down and quit getting off topic, or else your friend here will have to face the consequences.”

A jolt of pain was being sent into Bee’s processor as the behemoth holding him up, tightened their grip around his neck cables. The big bot however, seemed somewhat internally agitated, almost as if they just wanted to get this whole thing over with.

The big bot in question was large. They were probably taller than Megatron. With dark gray faceplates connecting to a piece of dark plating covering where their lip-plates should be, limiting the amount of emotion they could express. Optics as bright and as red as any other decepticon’s empowering gaze. Armor colors ranging from a strong magenta, being the most apparent color of their chassis, to a bright yellow, covering their servos and the helmet decoration on the back of their helm.

The bot eased up on both their grip and the weight on their pede, and let out a grunt with a heavy sigh, “Listen…just tell me this, are there more of you guys on this planet? Are there more decepticons on this planet?”

“Like we would tell you that-hrkk-” Bee confidently replied.

“Let me guess, is it because I hurled your friend back over there? He's a decepticon you know…he was just going to use you-” then before they could finish their statement, Breakdown charged out from the horizon and chucked a large rock at the con’s head.

The heroic action backfired as their servo met the rock, catching it just as it was about to hit the back of their helm. What they didn't realize was that the second rock was being hurled right after, making a strong enough impact to their helm. Startling the stranger enough for them to drop Bumblebee.

Bumblebee took to nursing his neck, feeling new dents as he was practically strangled. Not wasting another second, he transformed his servo into his stinger and aimed it at the con while getting some distance between them.

Like it was just going to be that easy.

The con released their pede from Arcee’s armor, grabbed her by the shoulder, and threw her at Bumblebee, electrocuting them both. With Breakdown going as far as to hurl himself at the perpetrator, and taking another swing. Which was dodged immediately.

As the stranger roughly elbowed Breakdown in the back of his neck, he was knocked out. And while the con was occupied with finishing Breakdown, they kicked his body towards Arcee and Bumblebee. Colliding with the two, making them tumble even further from the enemy. Officially rendering them all beaten to a pulp.

Until the stranger finally had enough. They decided that these guys just weren’t worth it. Admittedly, they put up a pretty good fight, but it was almost too obvious that they hadn’t taken on anyone with their amount of strength in a long time. At least not recently that is. It was strange though…why in the name of Primus would three unlikely bots, one of which was a con, be on patrol together, on this dingy dirt-rock planet; far away from any cybertronian-colonized planet?

Right as the stranger was beginning to take off and leave the three bots for scrap, a blast was shot at the stranger—nearly avoiding their faceplate.

“Bumblebee! Are you and the others all right?” Called Optimus.

Bumblebee didn’t respond with words, but instead groaned and shakily held a thumbs up. And that was more than enough for Optimus.

The stranger was only stunned for a split second. Until they equipped their own ray gun. But they were more than just stunned at the opposition—they were absolutely shocked.

The Optimus Prime?! And Elita-1?! Alive?! But their peers said—

Before the stranger could properly absorb their newfound information, they saw something flying right towards the fight. Landing right beside Optimus and transform into…into…

Aiming and readying his canon Megatron began “Stand down! Or else—!” Megatron was prepared to face off this cruel stranger. But…he wasn’t prepared to see a familiar face. He lowered his canon and with anguish ridden optics and his vocaliser resetting he started.

“…Strika?”

“…Megatron?”

— — —

Context: Oh boy…I started writing this like MONTHS ago. Like, before the rest of season one came out, but the whole story takes place after the events of everyone saving the world and junk. If that makes sense? Also the ending is kinda rushed so…yeah.

#btw the reason i used they/them pronouns to refer to strika is to add a little bit more mystery #also I kinda Headcannon strika and megs to be like siblings in TFE just fyi #strika absolutely thought that Oppy Elita and Megs were dead #how does she know who OP is but not Bee? pshh I dunno I just came up with this on the spot #why did she also attack breakdown?? im not so sure myself #strika is tired #transformers #maccadam #maccadams #earthspark #transformers earthspark #strika #bumblebee #breakdown #arcee #optimus prime #elita 1 #megatron #fan fic

[theomaru]

TRANSFORMERS POKEMON MYSTERY DUNGEON AU BABBYYYYY

Still deciding on the general plot, but the pokebots and deceptimons [NOT THE. FINAL NAMES. I HOPE] are enemy rescue/exploration guild groups.

#tfpmdau #pokemon mystery dungeon #maccadam #niche ass interest combo but WHATEVER #prowl #autobot jazz #autobot bumblebee #tailgate #hes here too LOL #I WILL NOT SPAM TAGS ON THESE GUYS I PROMISE i hate making tags its so scary. ill only add the character tags to the first post of them #tailgates giant goth gf is a corviknight. just so you know. #i already have species and info decided for soundwave and megatron....... optimus and starscream elude me though #ill have a little leeway with the designs to make them more like the character but i want to keep them close to canon pokemon if i can #like prowls somatic mutation is still the normal shiny coloration. megatron is an aggron with red eyes instead of blue. etc #SORRY BUMBLEBEE ISNT A BUG TYPE SORRY SORRY SORRY SORRY HES A PIKACHU SORRY #my art

[sophieswundergarten]

(Also very much not to do with me digging through everyone's past fics for the last week /s)

I think the Benedict humans should have more unconventional/interesting communication methods!! Specifically, I was thinking of ASL, because I really love learning it, but then it occurred to me that it would be fun if each duo/trio/group in the family had their own preferred way to talk.

I imagine that all of the kids use morse code (They teach Martina and SQ), while the adults favour sign. Within that, of course Miss Perumal and Reynie speak Tamil, and I feel like Mr. Benedict and Sticky would use Greek or Latin with each other.

Milligan and Kate have some complex system that consists mostly of their farm-code terms and meaningful glances (Moocho can participate in most of it, but his meaningful glances aren't compatible with both of them at the same time, so it takes longer).

I think Sticky and Reynie would be the type of silly people to sit down and teach themselves, like, Quenya (A Tolkien elvish conlang) or something just for kicks. Kate tried to learn with them, but she wasn't having near as much fun so it's something just the two of them do. Mr. Benedict knows Sindarin (Other Tolkien elf conlang), but it doesn't help him much.

Constance and Mr. Benedict have perfected a form of communication that is exclusively reciting snippets of poetry to each other. It's actually kind of impressive. They make it a game, and when one of them uses a poet the other doesn't know, they break off to ask about it. This was initially supposed to be part of Constance's schooling and broaden her artistic horizons, but she's stubborn and kept coming back to it so as not to admit defeat (And it fully delights Mr. Benedict anyway, so he lets it continue until it's just another thing they do)

I'm going to (sort of) pull this from the books and say that the twins speak to each other in Dutch. Rhonda, Number Two, Milligan, and Sticky all know a little or have picked it up over the years just from being around Nicholas, but when he and Nathaniel are in a room together they go too fast for anyone else to follow properly.

For some reason, I feel like Rhonda and Number Two (Besides the obvious Sister Speak that they're beginning to let Constance into) would enjoy speaking German or French? I'm not super sure where that idea came from, but there you go. (Their sister ability to communicate is a lot of sideways glances and exaggerated facial expressions, but it is occasionally supplemented with hand signals)

SQ leaves little written notes everywhere. Sometimes he puts them in spots that he knows only one person will get into (The cabinet with Number Two's mixing bowls, Mr. B's pen drawer, Sticky's encyclopedia shelf), but he also likes to sneak them into jacket pockets and things. His favourite is to try and slip them into Kate's bucket. He likes to use a special color code for each person when he can, so that way if someone gets into the mixing bowls and sees a little yellow slip of paper, they'll know who it is intended for.

Reynie's been asking Milligan to teach him some "spy codes", so they will often communicate short messages with an Alpha-Bravo-Charlie and number strategy, mostly assigning each member of the family a short "callsign" of sorts and then using it to check where someone is with each other.

Constance and Sticky, surprisingly, have worked out a fairly good system with their cheating morse code. They got a lot better at it, and now can do it so subtly and quickly that it's hard for anyone else to catch.

Martina and Kate make up absurdly long nicknames and terms for activities/locations and turn them into acronyms. They are fantastically over-complicated and no one has even tried to puzzle out what they're talking about.

#I want to add more but this is all I can think of right now #Do with this what y'all will I just hope it made you smile at least a little #the mysterious benedict society #mbs #sq pedalian #mr. benedict #nicholas benedict #milligan wetherall #milligan #kate wetherall #reynie muldoon #constance contraire #sticky washington #martina crowe #rhonda kazembe #number two #moocho brazos #(slightly. he's there. i just haven't come up with anything specific for him yet.)

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

It's 4am and I cannot go to sleep because I have half an hour left in my book, and it's a murder mystery, and I need answers

#its so good #its called fifty feet down by sophie tanen #its about a lesbian reporter investigating the murders of teenage boys in a small town #it reminds me of the town i grew up in #its so cool and suspenseful and ive been hooked since the beginning #like ive been reading 50-100 pages a day because i desperately want to finish #and now its 4am and im so tired but i need answers!! #i cant wait to add this to my book blanket #i have so many rowd now and it looks so cool #i chose black for the horror genre but i just had a horror kick and read four horror books #so it goes navy for a few rows and purple for a couple rows and then just a huge chunk of black #i cant choose between gray and dark green for mystery #on one hand. gray really reminds me of the book. on the other hand ill probs read a decent amount of mystery #and i want my blanket to be full of cool colors #idk ill figure it out later. im currently unraveling an old blanket to get the yarn for this blanket and tomorrow im getting a yarn spinner #so thats gonna help me so much! i tried to learn how to make yarn cakes by hand but that is too difficult #especially with huge skeins of super bulky yarn #this post went off the rails a little bit #anyway should i read until 4:30 or go to bed? im gonna read #goodnight!!

[bluejaypirate]

Fucking DEVASTATED there's no Phineus Phibes fanfic on AO3. Not. A. One. I am so pissed off. I want to see people BABYGIRL-IFY HIM. And believe me, if anyone on this absolut hellhole of a webbed site knew who or what i was talking about? THIS SITE? You bitches would be all over him. I'm dead serious. He is a pathetic wet cat with zero morals and the stupidest haircut in the entire fucking universe. I want to study him. He fascinates me on so many levels. He's literally the worst, and i want o run him over with my car. I want to place him in an enclosure for study and spray him with a water bottle every time he dissapoints me. I think maybe, JUST MAYBE he should kiss his stupid fucked up little scientist second in command on the mouth. Their relationship is so complicated, and it get a MILLION TIMES WORSE in the final episode, and their chemistry is so fascinating, and the tension inherent to their positions in this narrative is so thick I want to BITE it with my TEETH. I am only halfway through season one, but i KNOW where their story is going and it's KILLING MEEEE.

Oh yeah also the show I'm talking about is shaggy and Scooby Doo get a clue. I decided to watch it after the Velma show ended up being. Y'know. Bad. I kind of went into this idea of "man. I wonder how bad the previous 'worst' Scooby Doo spin off compares to this, because like. Surely it's not anywhere near this atrocious? I wonder if there might be something there worth looking into." So first i did some background research (spoiling the entire plot in the process, because everyone kind of assumes you've already seen it or don't care), and then it was off to the races! And uhh. Holy shit guys. I. I love it. So much. I need people to brainrot with please.

#Shaggy and Scooby Doo get a clue #Also about the animation #I personally really like the art style the characters are drawn in #The backgrounds not so much #But some of the actual cinematography/action shots are really sweet #And the premise is completely BONKERS #Which just adds to the fun for me tbh #Not to mention this is the actual first time a Scooby Doo show was really truly serialized #I mean in my opinion #Technically you could argue 13 fucking Ghosts was the first 'serialized' Scooby Doo show #But i think that's a little bit ridiculous #My point is #This show walked so mystery incorporated could RUN #like #Theres LORE here #and a pretty interesting overarching story #That's all please watch it

[unproduciblesmackdown]

woah... that's some premium human (kittycat?) heart in conflict with itself

(fr everyone in lackadaisy is kittycats to me lmao. going like, whoa, neat humansona ideas....)

and also fr like everyone get in on "mordecai killed atlas even though of course he didn't do it b/c he Wanted to: bet on it" if only for the fun drama of it all....it Is fun & funny to me that like, sure there's only so many major characters, and sure there's no incorrect one to point to like "wow what a delight" but i wasn't really That previously aware that mordecai is like a fan fave like omg the bad bitches (especial popularity) he pulled by being autistic :'] we just don't expect to see it lmao. like this theory should also be more popular then if even just by virtue of that premium kittycat heart in conflict with itself material it supplies. pointing at mordecai like haha he's sooo upset about all this and That Is Why He Quit, not to go investigate marigold which he's also just said he Wasn't doing until just now. we've seen the [oh grief? besot? interesting] bonus material....not that i don't think most people do imagine that of course mordecai has a good amount of emotional investment in things driving him here, but this does ramp it up which i think also works as an argument in its favor; like i'd be inherently more skeptical about any theory that required mordecai to actually care less about things lol than about any that gives him more personal emotional motivation

truly like "we know mordecai wouldn't want to kill atlas..." (agreed) "...so he can't have been the one to kill him" like first of all lol no way is it a Writeoff anyways, like we've got a mystery here but we Won't imagine ways in which [nobody could ever kill someone they didn't want to kill] wouldn't apply? second of all: Think Of The Drama Of Him Killing Him Even Though He Wouldn't Want To

#i also lean towards the additional drama of ''he felt a gay type of way about atlas'' lol #this theory does though add more mystery around ''what Specifically is mordecai investigating rn then?'' #since i don't think it's [specifically who shot atlas] what with that having been mordecai; to me.... #could be ''who knows that mordecai shot him'' but could also be something broader #such as the whole mystery of ''what were the circumstances that led to atlas's death'' #lackadaisy #mitzi and mordecai murder mystery #and i also know they're not Not kittycats...insofar as it's Not ''au of this world: what if ppl had been bipedal cats'' lol #and rather ''it's just this world as a setting in a fictional story & ppl are cats for fun & practicality & other rewards'' #i will always remember the way the one time i recommended lackadaisy in person they rejected it b/c of the cats thing lmfao.... #like yeah idk if you're first & foremost worried abt your state-issued fursona idk what to tell you i guess.... #anyways you're so right. elevator pitch for this theory: intensifying mordecai's anguish marinade beyond [annoyed by own job] #joke's on him. his teamup with the savoys is a delight. see also my theory that: #where the comic cuts off currently the savoys Are abt to burst in & shoot gracie & have to become either more Friend Or Foe to mordecai #than he would like. out here like ugh we just work together can you Not forcibly carve sigils into my chest while serafine is like lol. lma #unbelievable........there's nobody you can put in a room w/mordecai & Not have it be a dream team #autistique funny little guy....the universal [makes it a dream team] ingredient

[senadimell]

Weaving website challenge: explain how to secure a warp in your beginner tablet weaving post without just saying “tie off the warp”

#while you're at it—define warp #people will spend paragraphs describing what cards look like and how to measure a warp and say ZILCH about how to attach it to something #well guess what?? cards with four holes are not that complicated! #how do i thread a warp? #i still have no idea! #haven't found a backstrap guide that's helpful yet because most resources are aimed at south american styles #and that seems a little more involved than what i'm doing #if i had weights i'd probably just start weighting it because that's conceptually simple #how do i add tension without getting these 32 strings all tangled up? #tis a mystery #anyways i'm literally going to tie it to some stuff and see if it works #and my rule of explaining anything beginner is always always always have a definitions section for jargon

[thesixthstar]

Trying to figure out a nice character bond/motivation to make my upcoming Evil Wizard dnd character feel more human and compelling and it’s harrrd

Like I need to make her care about something other than “ultimate knowledge no matter the cost” so that the whole “cost” thing has the potential to mean something, but every time I think of something it ends up too tender/sympathetic and I really want to keep her as a mostly cold hearted bitch

#tag #dnd #like I’m circling back to ‘maybe there’s a dead sibling’ #or maybe an alive sibling that she’s grown apart from due to Wizard School but that she still cares about? #idk I just need something to tie her to This World #to add a little more tension to the siren call she’s answering for Mysterious Wizard Science #I always try to answer for each character 1) what do they want and 2) what do they fear #I know what she wants but I don’t know what she fears

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

soooo you gonna rebrand your blog or keep the p4 stuff? also if ya were gonna rebrand what kinda thoughts do ya have?

I mean....this blog was always a "random" blog, not dedicated to one Fandom per-se. Persona was/is my mainstay fixation. (this blog used to have a title of "welcome to my random world" cause I was like 17? and I didn't know what to do? and it was just going to be *~lol 2010s random~* ksaljdfklaj but I think a Tumblr update deleted it u_u)

I did let Korrasami run it's course here for a good while (might go back to that). But when it came to Frozen, "The fandom that must not be named lest I feel judged for it/my tastes", or Addams family/Wednesday (tho I have posted some stuff here) I went and made other blogs to brain dump there instead of here.

I'm probs gonna still talk about Persona/MegaTen, but I'm gonna focus on stuff from this point in time and into the past. I might get game pass for a month and finish the Answer there to get my views on it (so I can at least judge it for what it is). I might even switch heavily to Xbox to avoid paying Persona/Atlus directly (I dunno I wanna do some research on that first).

I'm aiming to only buy their games preowned from now on to avoid giving them money directly.

Atlus is going to have to pull a big "win back the crowed" for me to come off this game boycott.

Anyway, if you start seeing other stuff on here don't be surprised. I might do some metas on Addam's Family/Wednesday/Wenclair on here rather than the other blog.

Frozen, Naruto/Boruto, Far Cry 5, Atla/Korra, and Ju-On/Grudge/Ringu might be another since those are some main-stay recent ones. Maybe if I get more into the Locked Tomb series too (still on that 1st book flksadjfkja).

#dfklsajfl;jsaf #'is it really that BAD? #the fandom that must not be named is just.....a vibe #a very trashy vibe #just fascinatingly feral like 'oh wow we're writing this ok??? well not like morally you'll probs just think '....wait really? a little mid #it's made me realize another reason I like P4 actually dkljsflkfaj #small town foggy forest-y......mystery.....supernatural.....vibe all the vibes #small town near a forest and it's foggy/rainy??? add a mystery to it too?? hell yeah #silly answers #silly asks #one day I might admit what the fandom that must not be name is......but not today #(btw the fandom is actually really chill tbh so ajsldfkja; it's just what we're a fandom of is my shame u_u kljfadskfj;a TT0TT)

[robroski]

i dont even got a mouth

#it just adds to my mysterious swagger though i think #im just saying maybe i do miss having my body a little bit #CALCULATING... #nah i dont #.dbot

[fromevertonow]

Suzanne Collins is one of the few contemporary writers who realizes the importance of names in her stories and the significance they bear. They add so many layers to the story, additional meanings that otherwise would not have existed.

The original trilogy:

Katniss: named after a plant of which you can eat the roots. Her father taught her where to find it and told her that “as long as you can find yourself, you’ll survive” (quote may be a little bit off, but it’s from one of the early chapters in THG). Additionally, the leaves are in the shape of an arrowhead, referencing her skills with the bow which her father also taught her how to use.

Peeta: literally bread lmao. But bread is one of the basic nutritions humans need, a little bit goes a long way to keep you alive. Peeta’s presence in Katniss’s life also kept her alive, literally and figuratively—the burned bread he threw her in the flashback and their complicated relationship.

Primrose: a plant with medicinal purposes, even more significant in light of her work as a medic in Mockingjay.

Gale: literally means “strong wind” and considering that in every encounter with Katniss he’s caused some reaction, he pulls her into directions she maybe initially doesn’t want to go in. Additionally, his name also represents his determination and steadfastness in his beliefs.

TBOSAS

Lucy Gray: named after William Wordsworth’s poem “Lucy Gray” which is about the titular character of the poem who got lost during a blizzard. She literally got lost in snow. Rachel Zegler sang this poem in two parts on the original soundtrack of the movie. When Snow asked who the girl in the song is, Lucy answers that she’s a mystery, just like her.

Snow: aside from the obvious snow references, I think his name is most significant in relation to Lucy and the poem. The only one who knows what caused her disappearance is Snow. He is the reason that Lucy is gone. But her traces in the snow are still visible. He will always remember her because the memory of Lucy has manifested itself in every part of his life.

Coriolanus: named after the Roman general (and also the titular character of Shakespeare’s play), Coriolanus wanted to attack Rome and become its ruler. He was scorned and celebrated by the people, only to be later exiled from the city by them. In TBOSAS, Coriolanus is the star pupil at the Capitol’s academy but sent into exile to the districts after he won the Games with Lucy through cheating.

Volumnia: Coriolanus mother who played a part in his ascent to power. In TBOSAS, she almost serves like a mentor to Coriolanus, teaching him how to think in terms of power.

(Edit) Sejanus: a roman soldier who was betrayed by the roman emperor Tiberius, just like the future president betrayed him.

(Edit) Plinth: got this info from here, but it was too good not to include here. A plinth is a base for a statue or vase to stand on. After Sejanus’s death, all of the Plinth fortune was given to Snow for being such a good to friend him. It was this money that skyrocketed the Snow family from poverty to filthy rich. The Plinth money was the foundation upon which Snow built his power.

There are so many other names that have historical (mostly Roman and Greek) connotations—Plutarch, Seneca, Cinna—but also regular names like Trinket and Beetee bear meanings that represent the character beautifully.

Names are important. For any lover of literature or (aspiring) writers, please look closely at them. They can shape your story into something unique.

Feel free to correct me if I’ve said something wrong. I know there are many names missing, but I can only add so many examples ✊🏻😔

#tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #thg #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #gale hawthorne #lucy gray baird #coriolanus snow #suzanne collins #literature

[guideaus]

actually i wanna see more of maomao and jinshi now

#personal #i used to own the apothecary diaries manga but i wasnt feeling it too much #i dont think the main story is deep enough to be there for the plot and a lot of the little mysteries arent gripping enough to me #its one of those series where i wish i could just see my favorite characters interact lol #i felt the anime was doing a good job w it but if they add filler ig i could become impatient again

[diloph]

SOMEBODY, PLEASE, SAVE THE MONSTERS

I’m picking my way through some of the Aliens novels/comics in the post-Prometheus/Covenant era and maaaaan, does the quality of them vary.

Like retcons of movie-era, Dark Horse-era and AVP-adjacent (to say nothing of the things like the noncanon DC crossovers) are one thing, but there’s bits that they just straight up contradict each other within the same timeframe.

For example, in a recent-ish comic, Russ Jorden, Newt’s father, turns up in a cryotube beneath the ruins of Hadley’s Hope. He’s still infected and dies at the end of it... despite the fact that Newt has already seen him die with her own two eyes in the recent-ish novel, River of Pain.

Had this not been the case, you could quite logically say he was infected, frozen, somebody else birthed the Queen and the job’s a good’un. How he survived the fucking nuclear explosion is another gripe, but I digress.

It’s putting me off. Other future prospects don’t look like solid purchases, sadly. I’ve not gotten to them yet, but apparently there’s stuff like a human using the Black Prometheus Goo to turn into a Xenomorph Queen with all their faculties, the goo somehow infecting the Xenomorphs despite the fact that it subtracts from them as bioengineered killing machines hinted to been birthed from the stuff...

Then again, the last one I read featured an extended Boris Johnson/Brexit parody, a space battle and some hate towards the Dead Parrot sketch, so we’re evidently grasping the stupid ball that the Predator dropped, apparently...

It’s making the silliest of the Dark Horse stuff look sensible and that’s a hell of a feat.

#Were you trying to tell us something by bringing up the Dead Parrot sketch 3 times Alien: Colony War? If so you weren't subtle. #I just want the Xenomorphs to get a break again. Isolation saved it and they've mostly run it roughshod ever since. #If it were all terrible I'd just avoid it and there have been some good stories there; you get some good and you get some bad #much like a lot of the prior stuff I suppose but that had the excuse of being 90's comics released between 2 and 3. Some were EXCELLENT. #But a little consistency and grounded storytelling is what I want. That was the reason the Predators got evicted #and the mystery around the Aliens the Engineers and the Androids got smashed to shit. #Let's see what happens when I add the main tag later for fun.