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autumnshighlady · 2 months

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I've Always Liked to Play With Fire (part 25)

NESTA ARCHERON X ERIS VANSERRA X FEMALE!READER

summary: Eris drops the news to his court that he intends to wed you both, and he also has a surprise in store for you

warnings: heavy feyre slander, brief violence, sexual implications towards the end, eris being sexy af

word count: 6.7k

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: ok i think this is one of my favourite chapter's i've written haha. enjoy!

part 1 // part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12 / part 13 / part 14 / part 15 / part 16 / part 17 / part 18 / part 19 / part 20 / part 21 / part 22 / part 23 / part 24

read on ao3

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You stood nervously beside Eris’s throne, sweating nervously beneath the heavy fabric of your regal dress. The servants had spent two hours getting you ready, leaving no hair out of place as they dressed you in the most elaborate gown you had ever worn. It was a deep red fabric with off-the-shoulder sleeves that accentuated your collarbones. There was a forest-green underskirt that peeled through the bottom of the dress, with carefully embroidered leaves in the same colour wrapping around your hips and waist before descending the front of the gown. Across your neck was a thick golden necklace with a large ruby pendant that glittered in the sunlight creeping through the windows. Your hair was braided just like Nesta’s coronet, with red and orange leaves woven into the strands. A golden circlet rested upon your forehead with a single amber teardrop-shaped gem in the middle.

The servants had informed you that Eris himself had hand picked these items for you, a shy smile on their faces as they delivered the news. It made you happy to see them smile, if only for a second. It was a sign of the shadow of Beron’s cruelty slowly fading away.

Before he departed your room last night, Eris had informed you with a smirk that today and noon he would make the announcement of the engagements. Your heart had fluttered with excitement and nerves, something that had persisted even now. You tried to remain poised, to not let the growing crowd sense your tension. They stood in before you like a pack of wolves, beady eyes glaring up at you, Nesta, and Eris. While you heard no muttering of discontent, their displeasure was coming off in waves.

You knew they wouldn’t be happy about the announcement. Most males were already pissed that Eris was High Lord now – the fact he would not only be taking two wives, who were also married to each other, but would be making them High Ladies would make steam come out of their ears. Eris had set up a ward around the throne dias, just in case.

The towering wall behind the throne that had previously been adorned with paintings and carvings of Beron and his forefathers had been torn down on the first day. Instead of being rebuilt, Eris had opted to leave it open, using a ward to shield the room from the unpleasant aspects of the outside elements, but still managed to let the warm sunlight and fresh autumn breeze into the room. It brightened the once dark space, bringing new life into the court. The sun was warm on your shoulders, glowing in the distance behind you and casting you, Nesta, and Eris in a sheen of golden light. The mountains could be seen in the distance past the large rocky cliff behind where the throne room wall once stood. To the crowd below, the scenery in behind paired with the positioning of the sun made the three of you look like the very essence of autumn.

You snuck a glance at Nesta at the same time she turned her head towards yours. Leaves were braided into her hair as well, an identical circlet framing her forehead. She had been fitted in a dark red gown with sparkle detailing going from the neckline that covered her throat all the way down from where the fitted waist gave way into flowing skirts. The sleeves were billowy, gathered at the wrists and hanging loosely on her arms. You wanted to stare at her all day long, admiring the regal dress on her tall frame. After a subtle wink from Nesta, you forced yourself to stare back at the crowd.

Fae of all ages were gathered in the throne room. Soldiers, courtiers, tradesmen, much to the visible disappointment of the nobles, who seemed disgusted to be in the same room as those they deemed below them. But they did not grumble, lest they meet the wrath of their new High Lord. It broke your heart to see so many females beside their husbands, heads bowed submissively as if they were no more than an accessory. They looked exactly how Lirilla had looked beside Beron – a shell of whatever their former self was.

Eris’s mother was not in the throne room, something which brought a surprising wave of sadness over you. You did not know how much Eris had told his mother about the announcement he was about to make, if anything. But it was safe to assume he wanted to keep her as far away from this assembly as possible, lest outrage break out and put her in harm’s way.

Once what you assumed to be the last of the crowd had assembled, Eris lifted his chin, letting a wave of power cascade across the room. Instantly, any shuffling or whispering had ceased, and the assembly before you focused their attention on the High Lord. You stared evenly at the crowd, unflinching as several judgemental eyes flickered between you and Nesta. You would not let them see your nervousness.

“I assume you are all wondering why I called you here on such short notice.” Eris’s voice rang out clear and authoritative, echoing in the large chamber of the throne room. “As you all know, my recently departed father wished for myself and the lady Nesta Archeron to be wed. I intend to honour that wish.”

There were a few nods from the crowd, likely Beron’s supporters happy that Eris was fulfilling his father’s wishes for the time being. But there were also looks of disapproval, males casting seething glances at Nesta that made you want to rip their eyes from their sockets. It wasn’t hard to guess from the younger females beside them that they had hoped Eris would be wed to one of their noble daughters, rather than a female from another court.

To his credit, Eris did not even acknowledge them as he continued. “He also wished for the lady (Y/N) to marry my brother Malgorm. Now that he is dead, such a marriage is no longer possible.”

You cringed as several males in the audience perked up, their predatory gazes dragging over towards you as they stared you down hungrily like dogs salivating over a fresh piece of meat. Eris had been right – an unwed female truly did attract the worst males in his court. One male, a shrivelled old noble with a squashed looking face turned and whispered something to the male beside him, presumably his son. They both stared at you with sick glee on their faces as the older male cleared his throat.

But Eris turned sharply towards the noise, cutting the male off before any scheming words could leave his lips. “If you’re about to propose a foolish idea of marrying your wretched son to Lady (Y/N) in my brother’s stead, Lord Cergon, I suggest you hold your tongue before I have it removed.”

The male’s face twisted with rage, and he spoke boldly. “I knew your father since he was a child, boy.” He spat at Eris. “His Grace would have desired this union if his son could not fulfil it.”

Eris smirked, a tendril of angry red flame curling around the male’s throat. His eyes went wide, and he went utterly still as the fire licked his shrivelled skin. “You dare speak on behalf of my father?” Eris’s voice was cold as ice, cutting through the sunlit warmth of the room as the fire slowly cut off the old male’s airway. “You have no authority here, Lord Cergon. The only reason you even hold your title as Lord is because my father wanted you by his side for reasons that escape me. But I am not my father, and I have no use for you anymore. I hereby strip you of your land and titles, and banish you and your son from this court. All of your assets will be reallocated to the Crown to be redistributed as I see fit. If either of you step foot across this border, I will burn you alive.”

“My Lord…” The male sputtered with his choking breath. “You can’t…”

“I can.” Eris said coolly. “And I will. Question me again, call me ‘boy’ again, and you will leave this room without your head. That goes for everyone here. Those who consider themselves loyal only to my father are urged to swear to me your undying fidelity, or you will meet the same fate as Cergon. My two brothers have already done so, and will serve me just as they served our father.”

Eris nodded at two redheads at the front of the crowd. They were unmistakably Vanserras, one with a short cropped haircut and the other with longer wavy hair. They did not sneer or grimace as expected, but instead bowed their heads. You suspected Eris had already exchanged strong words with them to ensure they would not be a threat.

As a set of guards hauled the sputtering old male and his son away, the crowd shifted nervously. Some of the males that had stared defiantly in protest while others bowed their heads. With a satisfied smirk, Eris leaned back in his throne and continued. “Now that we have established that, let us get back to the initial purpose of this meeting before more of my time is wasted by pathetic squabbling. With the death of my brother, Lady (Y/N) is without a husband. And the only worthy remaining Vanserra male is me.”

You watched as confusion flickered in, the eyes of the crowd stomach churning as you braced yourself for Eris to drop the bomb.

“To remedy the situation, I intend to take Lady (Y/N) as my wife, alongside Lady Nesta. They are also to be wed to each other, a symbol of our strong union. They are to take their rightful places beside me as my equals, my wives, and your High Ladies.”

The room erupted into a plague of angry shouts and protests, primarily from the males but also from a few of the noble females. You stood tall, letting their words and insults bounce off you like flies on the window. Amidst the chaos, you could make out several screams of ‘whore’ and ‘improper’, all directed at you and Nesta. But you did not cower, willing your gaze to that icy steel that Nesta was currently doing and making sure to stare down each and every one who shouted angrily.

You expected Eris to send an angry wave of fire throughout the room, smiting those shouting angrily towards the dias into piles of ash. When he didn’t, you were confused. While you knew Eris wanted to slowly move away from the image he had cultivated over the years as his father’s perfect son, you did not expect him to simply sit there silently, smirking.

Your eyes flickered back towards him slightly, and he simply lifted one finger from the arm of his throne in response.

Just wait. It seemed to say.

So you sucked in a breath, turning your gaze back to the angry crowd, still shouting. And then you heard it. Felt it. Three differing but all low and menacing growls, sending a vibration through your very bones. They were deep and otherworldly, and accompanied by a tremble of the ground and the echo of mighty footsteps.

The crowd’s angry yelling began to die off at the noise. They, too, seemingly felt the growl vibrating within them as they shuffled uneasily. Unease began to stir in the air and you smiled as the footsteps grew closer. The chandelier in the middle of the throne room swayed, the candles flickering despite the lack of breeze.

From the rocky cliffside, the three dragons appeared. Morgoth’s bulking form crawled menacingly over the rocks towards the open spot in the wall behind the throne dias. Athariel’s silver form slithered beside him, while Zorzimril’s gold scales shone in the sunlight as she mirrored the other beast. Their eyes were glowing, puffs of smoke curling around their lips that were drawn back in fierce snarls. All three dragons stalked closer, their long necks able to wind their way into the throne room as if the wards weren’t even there.

The crowd had stopped shouting entirely, various exclamations of fear replacing the angry protests. They had shuffled backwards, wide eyed as the dragons crept menacingly into the castle. You could hear a few males frantically trying to get to the door, only to be stopped by Eris’s guards.

The room now reeked with fear.

You felt Zorzimril’s hot breath on your back, her soft growling bringing you comfort rather than fear. The golden dragon loomed her head over you protectively, daring someone to come forward and challenge you. Morgoth did the same with Eris, and Athariel with Nesta, each standing protectively over their rider and baring their teeth. You straightened your spine, standing proudly with your dragon at your back, smirking as the crowd stared up in fear.

“What an abhorrent reaction from you all,” Eris finally spoke, his voice echoing with Morgoth’s low rumbling growl. “I must say I am disappointed. But I care not if you all approve. Because the three of us will be wed whether you like it or not, and you will have your High Ladies to answer to. They are powerful, fearless, and unlike me, merciful. Anyone who dares to disrespect this union or anyone in it will be fed to our dragons. This will be your only warning.”

Malgorm roared, the force of it smiting all the candles in the room and causing the crowd to shrink back further, so much so that a few were pressed up against the walls at the back.

“This is madness!” Came an angry shout from the front of the crowd. “Where is your respect for tradition?”

The crowd parted as a red-faced male stormed through. His dark brown hair was braided back tightly, yellow eyes gleaming with hate as he shamelessly challenged the High Lord. He wore elaborate armour – a noble, one whose uniform had clearly never seen battle.

“Frankly, I have none, Lord Ashworthe.” Eris said dryly. “Things will change greatly around here. I strongly urge anyone clinging on to the old ways to let go of the past and brace themselves for a new future.”

“You will do no such thing.” The male said, fists curled at his sides.

Eris raised an eyebrow, cocking his head. “I won’t, will I?” His tone was mocking, causing Lord Ashworthe to seeth even more. “And how do you think you can stop me, exactly? I am your High Lord, Ashworthe. You will do as I command and you will do so without complaint.”

“We will not stand for it.”

“Who exactly is ‘we’? I don’t exactly see your supporters flocking to your side.”

Lord Ashworthe whipped around, noticing that everyone had backed as far away from him as possible. He motioned for some of the males around him to join, but they shook their heads and looked away, causing Eris to chuckle. Furious, the male turned back around and spat at Eris. “It is one thing to marry a female with no ties to this court. To take a second wife who is also without any ties to this land is spitting in the faces of those of us who have been here for generations, offering you potential brides of the noblest of houses. Not to mention the fact that it is a vile insult to let your two brides be wed to each other as well. I will recognize no High Lady in this court.”

Eris did not say anything for a moment. His amber eyes glowed with anger as he sat, utterly still as Lord Ashworthe stared arrogantly up at him. The entire room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for something to happen.

The High Lord simply waved his hand, and two guards grabbed the male by each arm, dragging up towards the foot of the dias. Lord Ashworthe yelled and writhed in protest, but was no match for the strong guards.

Morgoth’s growl deepened as Eris spoke, feeling his master’s rage. “Yes, Lord Ashworthe, I spit in your face with this action.” He said angrily. “I spit in the face of any male like you who sells his daughters to the pleasure houses because he wants a son. I spit in the face of all you cowards who beat your wives bloody simply because my father and his fathers before him set the precedent that it was ok to do so. I spit in the face of everyone who dares judge me for letting me and my mates’s hearts be free and pursue happiness outside the confines of your prejudices.”

An audible gasp sounded from the crowd at Eris’s reveal. Shocked looks spread between the audience, the word ‘mates’ being murmured like a hushed prayer.

“Your mates?” Ashworthe gasped, eyes wide and reflecting the surprise of the crowd behind him. “How is that possible…”

“It is.” Eris said coldly.

The Lord began to tremble. “I apologise, your Grace. If I had known–”

“Save your whinging.” Eris cut him off sharply. “It doesn’t matter if you knew they were my mates. The fact they are going to be my wives and your High Ladies should be enough to keep your mouth shut. And since you can’t even respect that, you serve no purpose being in this court.”

The male blanched. “You’re going to banish me, too? You cannot be serious.”

The smile that spread across Eris’s face was pure cunning as he said evenly, “No, I am not.”

Morgoth snarled, snaking his head further into the chamber and opening his jaw to hiss, revealing more of his razor sharp fangs. You felt Zorzimril’s steady presence behind you, letting out growls every so often at the crowd. The guard threw the snivelling Lord on the steps and backed off, leaving a respectable ten metres between him and the rest of the crowd.

“You cannot execute me!” Ashworthe snarled, despite the tremble in his body as Morgoth loomed over him. “I have served this court for 500 years. If you’re going to throw that away for the sake of your whores, then you are not worthy of the crown you wear.”

Eris fumed, his fingers gripping the throne’s arms so hard you thought they may shatter beneath his grip. A flaming gag appeared around Ashworthe’s face, and he screamed as the fire burned his skin. “You will never speak about my mates in such a tone ever again.” He snarled viciously, raw anger and possession lacing his voice. “Let this be another lesson to all of you. I meant what I said, that anyone who dares disrespect Nesta or (Y/N) will be fed to our dragons. You are a pathetic waste of life, Lord Ashworthe. And I feel no shame in making an example of you.”

Before the male could even protest, Morgoth let out a mighty roar, drawing his head back and flaring his wings. You watched in shock as flame shot out of the dragons’ mouth, going directly down onto Lord Ashworthe. He screamed as the flames engulfed him, slowly melting him away but not fast enough to grant him a quick death.

The crowd screamed as Morgoth reached down and clamped his jaws around the flaming body, a sick crunching sound echoing throughout the space as he ate the Lord in one bite.

Zorzimril and Athariel let out mighty roars, as if cheering the black dragon on for his display. You glanced at Nesta, who was looking down with satisfaction at the ashy spot where the arrogant lord once stood. You never pegged yourself, or Nesta, for the blood thirsty type, but you’d be lying if you said the male didn’t deserve it. And you couldn’t help how your body warmed at Eris’s protectiveness.

The audience watched in muted horror as Eris patted Morgoth on the neck, murmuring something to him as the dragon retreated to his initial position, looming menacingly over the High Lord and daring others to step forth and become his next meal.

“Master Greywell.” Eris called out casually, as if nothing had happened. A few seconds later, an old male with thick black robes stepped forward on unsteady legs, eyes uncertain. “You are to personally oversee the construction of two additional thrones, right next to this one.” He spoke more gently to the old male. “I trust you will make me proud as you have done so frequently in the past.”

Master Greywell bowed low, letting out a breath. “Of course, your Grace. I will see to it immediately.”

Eris nodded, then turned his attention to the rest of the crowd and stood up. He reached out and grabbed your hand with his right, and Nesta’s with his left. You felt him squeeze gently, a reassuring promise that everything would be ok. Your heart swelled with joy at the simple public display, a gesture that proved Eris was not ashamed of the unique situation. That he would proudly let everyone know exactly who belonged to him, and who he belonged to.

“This assembly has concluded.” Eris spoke firmly at the terrified crowd. “Heed my warnings and proceed with your day. I must prepare for the grandest wedding this court has ever seen. Dismissed.”

The second the last word left his lips, the crowd was rushing to the door, eager to get away from the terrifying High Lord and dragons. Your body was jolted forward as a golden head leaned down to nuzzle you, letting out a low purr. You chuckled, stroking Zorzimril’s soft scales before letting Eris lead you and Nesta down the steps.

“Come.” He said softly. “I have a surprise for both of you.”

*********************

“Eris, for the last time, just tell us–” Nesta’s protest was cut off as the High Lord dragged the two of you down the hallway in the direction of the private library.

“You’re an incessant female, you know that, right?” Eris snorted, interrupting her. “If I tell you, it ruins the purpose of the surprise.”

Nesta rolled her eyes and huffed, but didn’t pester him again. Eris had refused to tell either of you what the surprise was, shutting you down when you asked for a small hint. But the High Lord bore a look of glee on his face that he was unable to hide, which made you almost nervous. Several people had tried to stop Eris as he hurried you and Nesta through the winding hallways, demanding his attention on one matter or another. But he had brushed them off, to your surprise. Clearly, he was in too much of a hurry to spare his attention to others. You had never seen Eris so giddy.

As you finally came to the arching doors of the library, Eris stopped and faced you and Nesta. “When I open these doors and show you your surprise, don’t worry – you can figure out ways to tell me how I’m the best mate ever later on.” He said, winking playfully.

Nesta crossed her arms, eyebrows furrowing. “You know we’ve both been in the library, right?”

Eris smirked. “I know, smartass. The library has little to do with the surprise. I just wanted a quiet place for this, where few could hear you.”

You raised an eyebrow, a slight pink blush coming across your cheeks at Eris’s words. He noticed instantly, rolling his eyes.

“Get your dirty mind out of the gutter, (Y/N).” Eris quipped, putting a hand on the knob of the door. “While I know I could positively rock your world and am dying to do so, I think this is something you’ll appreciate more.”

Before you could come up with a response, Eris turned the handle and pushed open the heavy wooden doors. The scent of old books, hot wax, and parchment hit you immediately as the grand library was exposed. Spiralling wooden staircases stretched up and around the mighty shelves, designed to look as if they had carved into the trunks of mighty ancient trees. But it was not the books your eyes landed on, nor the cosy setting of plushy furniture over in the reading nook.

You let out a squeal as your eyes landed on the figures at the table in the centre of the room – two females, one with large wings and one with bright teal eyes. “Gwyn? Emerie?” You exclaimed, frozen in shock. Beside you, Nesta’s hand covered her mouth, which had dropped open in equal surprise.

It took only a split second for the Valkyrie’s to leap off the table and run towards you and Nesta. Gwyn beelined for you, happy tears lining those bright eyes as she launched herself into your outstretched arms. You began crying as well, clinging onto the slender female as if you couldn’t believe she was really here. Emerie had done the same with Nesta, and the two held each other tightly.

“Oh my god, Gwyn…” You breathed heavily through your tears. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“We missed you too.” Gwyn replied, her soft voice muffled slightly as she had buried her face into your hair. “Gods, it’s been tough without you.”

“You’re here…” You muttered with shock. “You left the House of Wind? And came all this way–”

“It was terrifying, but worth it for you.” Gwyn reassured you.

You wiped your tears as Gwyn finally let go. “But, how?” You asked.

Emerie had also let go of Nesta, and walked over towards you, wrapping her strong arms around you in a warm embrace. “Eris arranged everything with Azriel, and he brought us here.” She answered. “He wanted to surprise you guys. By the looks on your faces, it seems he succeeded.”

“He sure did.” You laughed. “I was not expecting to see you guys this soon. I mean, I wanted you to come visit, of course. But I figured it’d be a lot to ask, for you guys to come all this way.”

Emerie snorted. “Well, we weren’t exactly dying to stay in the Night Court.”

You and Nesta exchanged a worried glance. “Are things really that bad?” She asked quietly.

Gwyn shifted, the happiness leaving her teal eyes for a flickering moment. You noticed how she no longer wore her priestess robes, but rather an ocean blue dress and a white shawl wrapped around her shoulders. She seemed sullen at the mention of the Night Court.

Emerie, noticing Gwyn’s change, spoke up instead. “Eris and Az can fill you in later. But we haven’t seen you for months. Let’s have tonight be about us.”

Gwyn perked up and shook her shoulders, as if brushing off the topic. “Yes, we have so much to catch up on.” She shot you and Nesta a playful glare. “You both have a lot of explaining to do.”

You snorted, realising just how much you truly had to fill your friends in on. Nesta nodded in agreement but grinned ear to ear, her happiness radiating throughout your chest as if it were your own.

“The library is yours until tomorrow at sunrise,” Eris spoke up, stepping forward but maintaining a respectful distance from Gwyn and Emerie. “Nobody else will enter, and I have my most trusted guards at all exits. Nobody will try to come in, but the dragons will also be nearby, so you have nothing to worry about.”

“Dragons?” Gwyn squeaked, her eyes like saucers.

“You did say we have a lot of explaining to do.” Nesta muttered, shoulders shaking with effort not to laugh at Gwyn’s expression.

Eris smiled gently. “You will be well protected. Should you need anything, simply knock on the main door and a guard will summon a servant. Azriel and myself will be here at sunrise to take Gwyn and Emerie home, but until then, enjoy your night.”

The High Lord snapped his fingers, and the room suddenly shifted. Four large beds appeared in the corner by the hearth, complete with luxurious duvets and pillows. The table in the centre was filled with mouth watering food – pastries, roasted vegetables, perfectly cooked meats, a variety of wine and juices, everything you could possibly think of. The room lit up with dozens of candles, a soft yellow glow cast over the wood of the library corner.

“Holy shit.” Emerie muttered, jaw agape at the spread of food on the table.

Eris simply smiled as she immediately headed off towards the table, Gwyn and Nesta following. He turned to go, but you ran after him quickly. “Eris?” You called out.

As the male turned towards you, you wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. “Thank you.” You muttered, resting your head against his chest. “I can’t express how much this means to me.”

Eris rubbed your back, holding you closely. “While I know you want nothing to do with the Night Court after everything that happened, I know how much you missed your friends. I knew I wanted you to see them the second things here settled down and it’d be safe enough. I know my court has a lot of progress to make in terms of its treatment of females, but my goal is to make it safe enough that Gwyn and Emerie can live here, if they wish. As can any female in need of safety, just as you wished.”

Tears welled up in your eyes again at Eris’s thoughtfulness. You knew he’d face a ton of resistance changing things, given how archaic the males of Autumn seemed to think. But for you and Nesta, for his mother, for every female who deserved a better life, he would do this. “Thank you.” You muttered quietly, heart bursting.

He planted a kiss on your forehead as you pulled away, stroking your cheek. “You have no reason to thank me. It is the right thing to do. Now go, enjoy your night with your friends.”

Eris lightly smacked your rear as you turned back towards Gwyn, Emerie, and Nesta. You yelped, shooting him a playful glare as he exited the library, chuckling. Your face was red as you saw Emerie’s amused expression, and Gwyn’s shocked one. Nesta simply smirked at you, sipping on a goblet of red wine.

“Ok, I really need the full story.” Gwyn said.

*********************

“Ok, so let me get this straight,” Emerie said through a mouthful of crispy chicken. “(Y/N) is basically some Mother-blessed goddess of life who brought Eris’s mom back from the dead, you each have a dragon to protect your ass, Eris is going to completely remake this court and snuff out the backwards-thinking ways, and the three of you are all mated to each other? Am I missing anything?”

You shrugged, popping another coconut cookie into your mouth and washing it down with a swig of your mimosa. “That about sums it up.”

“That’s insane,” Gwyn commented, swirling her cranberry juice in its goblet. “I’ve literally never heard about a mating bond like this. Or dragons being real.”

“Can we meet the dragons?” Emerie said excitedly, sitting up straight.

“Not quite yet,” Nesta said. “Maybe next time. I, for one, don’t want to leave this library yet.”

Gwyn mumbled her agreement. The four of you had decided to move most of the food off the table, instead spreading the table cloth across the plushy rug by the warm hearth. The food had been placed atop the cloth in a picnic style as you all laid or sat around it, content to lounge in the warm pyjamas that had been set on each of the beds. Gwyn and Emerie had listened with wide eyes as you and Nesta filled them in on everything, the reality of it settling in like a cold wave. You had been in survival mode for weeks now, not getting a chance to process anything. The more you explained it, the more memories came back. They stifled your throat, closing in on it and slowly suffocating you. Nesta had sent waves of comfort through the bond, putting you at ease.

Luckily, after several drinks those dark memories had long been forgotten hours later. A warm buzz had settled over your body, leaving your lips looser and your mind lighter. Your stomach was about to burst from the amount of food you had ingested, but you couldn’t be happier. Reuniting with your friends was something you had dreamed of for weeks, and you had to pinch yourself to make sure it was real.

“So…High Ladies, then?” Emerie drawled, turning onto her side.

“I guess so.” Nesta said, shrugging casually.

Gwyn piped up, “Is that what you want?”

Nesta took another sip of wine. “Yes and no. I’ve never wanted to be a leader or anything, but I’m better suited for this than as a soldier in the Night Court. Besides, at least I will be able to use my position to help others.”

“Unlike your sister.” The Illyrian female said, anger flashing in her deep brown eyes. “She doesn’t do jack shit. She just flaunts her Illyrian wings while we get ours clipped. It’s disgusting.”

You hummed your agreement, adding. “When I’m High Lady, I’m actually going to do shit to change things for females. Unlike Feyre. No offence, Nesta.”

“None taken.” Nesta said dryly. “Trust me, I’m with you on that.”

“Besides,” You continued, your lips letting the words out before your brain could stop to filter them. “Once I’m done changing the backwards shit around here, I’m going to go to the Night Court myself and invite the females who have suffered to come live here and have a better life. The stupid males will lose their minds and start turning on each other. Next thing you know, revolt, uprising, and then boom, Rhysand’s court is just as shattered as mine was when Feyre was done with it. That’s the angle I’m playing.”

When you stopped, the room was quiet. Nesta was buttering a biscuit, unbothered. But Gwyn and Emerie were slack-jawed. You had previously told them that there was more to your plan than just escaping the Night Court, but you had never gone into such detail for them, fearing it was too risky.

“Wait, you’re going to try and rescue the females in the Hewn City and Illyria and bring them here so that the males end up turning on each other?” Gwyn asked.

You nodded.

“Won’t that be considered kidnapping?” Emerie piped up. “Or like, an act of war?”

You scoffed. “I’m not going to force anyone to come. Offering sanctuary is not a crime, neither is protecting those who choose to come with us. Rhys is a shitty High Lord, he has done nothing to help females outside of Velaris because he thinks it can’t be done. That things just are the way they are. Imagine his face when he realises I can do more to help them in the first few years of being High Lady than he can in his centuries of it.”

“Eris is on board.” Nesta added, reassuring Gwyn and Emerie. “He wants this too. And he will make it happen.”

“Damn.” Emerie muttered. “Karma’s a bitch.”

“Can we come live here when everything’s ready?” Gwyn asked tentatively, her voice quieter.

“Of course.” Nesta said, reaching forward and squeezing the priestesses' slender hand. “But it would be a big change. Are you sure you’re ready to leave the library for a whole other court?”

Gwyn nodded fiercely. “After everything that’s happened, my disdain for living under Rhysand’s rule outweighs my desire to stay in the library. Besides, I think starting fresh could be a good thing for me.”

“What about you, Emerie?” You asked, turning towards the Illyrian female.

She rolled her eyes. “Duh. You could tell me to leave Illyria tomorrow and I’d do it in a heartbeat. Just give the word and my bags will be packed.”

You chuckled, resting your chin on your hands. Your voice slurred slightly as you spoke, “I love you guys.”

Gwyn giggled. “We love you too.”

Emerie sat up, swaying slightly. Mischief sparkled in her eyes as she asked, “Speaking of love, has either of you jumped in bed with Eris yet?”

Nesta went red instantly, and you hid your face in your hands, shaking your head at Emerie’s bold, and very drunken, question. Gwyn squealed in protest, “Emerie!”

“What?” She asked, shrugging. “They’re mates. Nesta and (Y/N) are hot. Eris is hot. Just fuck already if you haven’t.”

“I think you’ve had too much to drink!” Gwyn scolded, reaching forward and grabbing the goblet of booze from Emerie’s hand. Luckily, she didn’t notice, just continued staring at you and Nesta, expecting an answer.

But Emerie continued. “So how’s it going to work? Are you going to take turns and watch each other, or is this going to be an all hands on deck situation?”

You hoped beyond hope your face wasn’t as red as Gwyn’s as you lifted your hands, shooting Emerie a glare. “I’m not dignifying that with a response.” You said, but it lacked the ferocity you had hoped.

Gwyn smacked Emerie’s arm hard. “That’s inappropriate,” She scolded her friend, still blushing fiercely. “Besides, I don’t think three people at once would even work.”

“Oh, we’ll make it work.” Nesta said quickly and casually. You whipped your head towards her, face heating up even more. But Nesta had paled, eyes widening, clearly not having meant to say that out loud.

A heartbeat of silence passed, everyone in the room frozen in shock at Nesta’s words. Seconds later, the four of you erupted into laughter. Your body felt weightless as you laughed, your mind beginning to wander as Nesta’s words swam in your brain.

“I cannot believe I just said that.” Nesta muttered with embarrassment, putting her head in her hands.

“Me neither.” Gwyn chuckled, shaking her head.

Emerie’s laugh was booming, echoing across the chasms of the vast library. She clutched her stomach, tears streaming down her face, making the three of you laugh even harder. It felt like hours before the laughing died down, and you all collectively decided it was time to try and get some sleep. Dawn was in a few hours, and the adrenaline of the alcohol had worn off, leaving you exhausted.

Unsurprisingly, Emerie was the first to fall asleep – or pass out, more fittingly. She snored softly, not having even settled under the covers before closing her eyes and letting sleep take over. Gwyn followed shortly, curled up under her blue bedspread. You sighed heavily, staring up at the arching patterns carved into the wood of the library beams.

It was so beautiful. Everything in this court was. And things would be better once you, Nesta, and Eris had made changes to the ways of Autumn to make things safer for females. It was a thought you had clung onto for weeks, a mere memory of a hope moulding into a very possible reality. Maybe that was why you had a mating bond with both Nesta and Eris – because the universe knew the three of you could challenge the archaic ways of the past and lead the court into a better future.

(Y/N)? Nesta’s voice sounded in your head, breaking you from your sleepy thoughts.

Yes? You replied.

I just wanted to say even though I was embarrassed by what I said about making the three of us work, in bed I mean, I did mean it. It was not a joke.

Your cheeks heated up again, and all you could muster was a pathetically curious, oh?

Nesta’s smirk could be felt through the bond. I’ve wanted to take you to bed for so long. And from what I can tell, Eris has, too. I crave you. More than I’ve craved anything or anyone before. Every time I see you I have to fight the urge to drag you to bed and worship every inch of you.

Your body felt warm, the sheets too hot suddenly. How am I supposed to sleep after hearing this?

She chuckled. I will leave you to fantasise about exactly how Eris and I are going to do to you.

Not fair.

Rest well, my love.

taglist (comment if you want to be added): @queercontrarian @kitkat-writes-stuff @moonfawnx @sevikas-whore @weird-and-wise @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet @kingshitonly @ladyofcherries @eerievixen @readingwritingwatching @peacecoffeeandflowers @a-frog-with-a-laptop @shadowqueen25 @lana08 @highladyofillyria @rachelnicolee @ladespedidas @little-darlingo @manonblackbeakquidditchteam13 @demirunner @terorovaerangi @hauntedandhopeful @younxii @microwaveallthedemons @fanfictioniseverything @lovra974 @maddietheshoe @peaceandcrackers @emy1-9 @lostinfantasyworldsbi @issybee0611 @thoughtfulshepherdmongerkid @belledawnidk @whhyyynottt @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @littlebbb @piceous21 @sevendeadlyshins-blog @searchingford @marigold-morelli @thesapphiclibrarian @nikovasbitch @chasing-autumns-chill @the-sweet-psycho @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @red-bees @daughterofthemoons-stuff @bloodicka

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theredofoctober · 9 months

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MANNA FIC— CHAPTER ONE: PAPRIKA

Dark!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Dark!Will Graham fic, TW for eating disorders, noncon, abuse, drugging, mild Daddy kink (it'll all make sense).

Chronologically this is the first chapter in the series.

Keep reading after the cut

Later, when you reflect on your first meeting with Dr. Hannibal Lecter, you will marvel at the Sybilan apprehension that had wreathed the merest detail of that night: the oppressive colours of his office, grey and vermillion from window to wall, the very choice to have you see him at an evening appointment, penning you in by way of the darkness.

Yet, as you sit across from Hannibal in a low leather chair, you contain only a spiteful rancour, one foot jouncing testily as the doctor attempts to extract answers from you beyond a penchant for grudging monosyllables.

“I understand that you have seen therapists in the past,” he says, in a neutral tone.

You stare at the curtains in their dissected oblongs of red and ash, like bloodied teeth against the wall: anything but meet the eyes that seem to have already picked you apart in the mere minutes you have been before him.

“Yeah,” you mutter. “A couple of times. CBT stuff. I hated it. Doesn’t work for me.”

Dr. Lecter offers you a smile so imperceptible that he might not have moved at all.

“Understandable. Cognitive behavioural therapy is a better fit for anxiety and negative thinking— it has its place, but for patients with deeper trauma, their illness may prove too complex for it to be effective. Dialectical behavioural therapy would perhaps be more suitable, in your case.”

Shrugging curtly, you do not ask him to elaborate. There is no therapy in the book that you would warm to; you had set out tonight only to put an end to familial begging, in its absence of dignity.

You resent the nakedness of your secrets before this stranger, before anyone, your suffering made public domain. Like a brow-beaten captive, you are moved to defend your self abuse against all those who seek to extract it from you.

Hannibal watches you with a dry intensity, his gaze rarely straying from your face. He is a lean, polished figure in an impeccable red check suit, dark hair swept back from a face of meticulous and rather interesting beauty.

His brows are low, almost invisible, his eyes small, and as dark as tree flux, the nose—straight, and as debonair as the rest of him—leading down from two furrows that suggest an earnest and curious whimsy.

His air, thus far, has been both tactful and polite, unperturbed by your close-mouthed unwillingness to yield to quizzing in even the most inoffensive line. You should like him, you suppose, yet you have already branded him an enemy.

He is a man; how could you ever be expected to open up to him?

“How long have you struggled with your eating disorder?” asks Hannibal.

You cross your arms over your chest, barring him out, a theological defence against the vampire of such dreaded questioning.

“You’ve read my records. You already know.”

“Certainly, but I would like to hear your experience in your own words. Such documents may represent only the most objective truths, and reveal very little of you, or what you are feeling at any given moment. Besides, they are as fallible as the professionals that create them. If there are any inaccuracies, your answers will bring them to light.”

The implication that you may share, with him, an honesty that you have refused previous therapists bears a quiet arrogance that might have won you over, were you not set so resolutely in your hatred.

“Fine,” you say. “I’ve had it since I was a kid.”

‘IT’; the word may as well be in baleful capitals, the introduction to some eponymous beast. You will give your ailment no other name aloud, have never done so, except in clandestine internet entry, forcing the thorn further beneath the nail.

Dr. Lecter digests your simple answer, finding flavour in its enigma.

“You have no intentions of recovery without intervention. What served you in your formative years, you will continue to savour.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get better,” you retort. “It’ll always be there, so what’s the point?”

The question had shaken previous professionals into stumbling objection; not so Hannibal Lecter, whose ambiguous calm nevertheless bears the same imperceptible threat as the night.

“Would you say the same to an alcoholic?” he asks. “Many live out their lives through a succession of losses and victories, and likewise, many emerge fulfilled and content in having struck out on the path of self-betterment. Yet, by your logic, you would condemn them all in their relationship to illness.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” you object; your foot bounces so violently over the arm of the chair that Hannibal glances at it, his focus unbalanced by the distraction. “It’s different for me, okay?”

“In what regard? What prevents you from regarding your own struggles with the same grace?”

“It’s... it's not the same. I don't want to talk about it.”

Panic makes you feel almost buoyant in the room, a kite with your string cut, to be devoured by the wind.

“You have not yet reached the point that recovery seems possible, or even desirable to you,” says Hannibal, across your distress. “That is quite normal. For many individuals with eating disorders, recovery can take up to ten years to achieve— a long and difficult road, yet while there is no permanent cure, there is still reward in that destination.”

This you have heard before, in other iterations; he loses you a little, a mistake that he seems to catch in your reply.

“You don’t understand.”

“If you mean that I cannot directly empathise, that is true,” says Dr. Lecter. “I do not share your struggles. Food is a great pleasure to me. Still, I comprehend the crux of your illness— that you once seized a handhold in a rock when you were falling, and still refuse to let it go when there is earth to hold you.”

You continue to jiggle your shoe in a pattern of agitation.

“You’ll never be able to hold me.”

Hannibal leans forward and places a hand upon your foot, guiding it soundly still again.

“That remains to be seen.”

Your breath peters in your throat. It apalls you that he has touched you without asking, that his hand—so warm through the leather of your sneaker—makes you imagine it within the wet turncoat of your cunt.

Suddenly you’re standing from your seat without acknowledging the motion that led you there, like a frame scratched from an old tape.

“I’m leaving,” you say, abruptly. “I’m sorry. This just isn’t for me.”

Hannibal looks up at you, and the still, smooth planes of his features alarm you in their lack of urgency.

“Please,” he says. “Sit down. You will not be leaving here today.”

He is so slim and unassuming in his tailored suit that you feel yourself the red-capped girl of fairy tale, entering an elder’s cabin to the appetites of a wolf.

“What are you talking about?” you whisper.

Dr. Lecter leans forward, speaking with a low and graceful regret.

“I must inform you that your parents have signed a written agreement for you to enter inpatient care, overseen by myself and a colleague.”

Betrayal breaks across you in a death bed sweat: how could they? What have they done?

“No!” you say. “You're lying.”

Dr. Lecter pats a folder resting on the arm of his chair.

“I would be willing to show you the paperwork, if you insist upon it.”

“I don’t care,” you say, your voice a shrill of indignation. “They can’t just send me away without my permission! It’s illegal!”

“As guardians to a vulnerable adult, it is entirely so.”

You don’t believe him, although your parents evidently did, pressed by their earnest desperation to reverse the agonies of time.

“Whatever,” you say, coldly. “I’m not staying.”

Hannibal tilts his head at an angle of frosty amusement, and suddenly you grasp that this is no ordinary intervention, but incarceration, for reasons yet unknown.

Terror snarls through you like thunder, and you run for the door, wrenching at the handle to find it locked against you.

“What the fuck?” you cry, though you had known in your most basic, animal senses that this man—this room—would be your undoing.

Dr. Lecter has gotten up from his seat and is striding towards you, seizing your arms at the wrists, as firmly as a father; you turn your head in a feral reflex and attempt to bite him, stalled by the wool of his jacket in your teeth. He turns your writhing figure towards him, your skirt bunched up to your waist in the struggle, his palm a blacksmith’s tool on your bare skin, a scarring heat.

His expression is scarcely altered by the struggle, his breathing slow, even. You are no threat to him; he has surely restrained patients like this before, a necessary training.

You will not go quietly, as perhaps others have, before you. You bring your knee into his groin until you hear him grunt in the desired pain, but he does not lose his grip upon you, only drives you back against the door, his eyes churning with a wild satisfaction.

“You will learn not to disobey, little one,” he says, and before you can absorb the threat there is a needle at your neck, and chemical night.

You half-wake some hours later to the voices of two men, one of them Hannibal, the other unfamiliar, speaking in a curt and cautious rhythm.

“This is her?” asks the unknown man— through fluttering eyelids you see him, all rumpled hair and scowling good looks, an image from some obscure Brontë novel. “The patient you talked about on the phone? What have you given her? She looks out of it.”

“A mild sedative,” Hannibal replies, “with some additional compounds. It’s alright, Will. She will revive soon, likely in a confused state. This will pass.”

Will hangs back, his mouth an angle of uncertainty.

“Forgive me, Dr. Lecter, but I’m a little confused as to what I’m doing here.”

“Your role will be paramount to the healing process,” says Hannibal, touching a hand to his colleague’s flannel sleeve with familiar tenderness. “Together, we will each be whatever our subject requires from one moment to the next. A healer, a father, a lover, a friend—”

“All while crossing the boundaries of what could be considered valid treatment into an inappropriate relationship,” Will cuts in, sharply. “Surely that’s only going to make things worse.”

Dr. Lecter approaches you, adjusting a pillow behind your head; you are too out of it to object, unsure whether it is a chair or a bed you occupy in your prone state.

“What is appropriate is not always the most effective method of healing,” says Hannibal. “This patient requires complex support. Decisions to be made for her that other professionals would not be comfortable making.”

Will shakes his head, grimly amused.

“And you are.”

“Certainly. Over the years I have seen results from the most unorthodox approaches. I have an interest in observing how she will respond to mine.”

You watch the two men exchange glances, and blearily wonder if they are merely friends, or something more.

“Dr. Lecter, I have no idea how to connect with her,” says Will. “And frankly the idea of trying isn’t something I’m particularly enthusiastic about.”

“Your discinclination to be involved may work to her benefit,” says Hannibal, smoothly. “While my part is to provide gentle guidance and compassion, you will offer the firm hand required to leash the chaos of her disturbed mind and behaviours.”

Will scoffs in disbelief.

“The good cop, bad cop routine? That seems a little obvious for you, doctor.”

“And yet it may be precisely what she craves. Stability. Discipline.”

At this, there is a certain change in the air of the room; one day, you will know it as hunger, so many appetites contained between two men.

“Well, which one is going to come first?” asks Will, relenting. “Stability, or discipline?”

“When she is fully awake, we will know," say Hannibal. "And we will deliver it.”

#ao3 writer #dark fic #manna fic #dark!fic #hannibal lecter x reader #dark hannibal lecter #yandere hannibal lecter #yandere will graham #will graham x reader #tw eating disorders #tw noncon

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yeehawpim · 5 months

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HI UM i really admire you and your art and i was wondering --

so i really love the way you format your comics, its really straight-forward and lets the reader process every word with ease (which i think adds to the impact of the writing), and that one rue comic with the split colors for the parentheses... how do you do it without making it look so messy?? to bring up another example, the hide-and-seek comic- i love how subtle and genius the call back to hiding behind the door was, it blew my mind... i take a lot of inspiration from the way you format and lay out your comics but for some reason i cant wrap my head around how you do so much with so little (in reality this might just be the result of me wanting to add so many little details for others to find , while being conflicted on keeping it simple, and,,, AGH...) for context : im trying to make a comic about isolation, but i keep filling up the page because i want to add things - when really i know i should be keeping it simple... but other than removing unnecessary details, i want to know what else you do to make your comics so clean and simple yet it rips out the emotions from your heart and has you stare at it as it beats. like... i want that type of impact!! i want to affect others on such an intense level!! i want to induce emotions!!! but how?

(sorry this was long, HAHAHA i just want to drive my point home- again with the 'wanting to add a lot of stuff to prove a point' thing but i digress)

ok first of all that is a huge compliment and it means v much to me, thank you 😭🙏❤️❤️

tbh for me the answer of keeping things uncluttered is paying attention to spacing and eye direction. Spacing depends on timing, if you want an action to happen slowly for instance you can make the space between panels longer, or take more panels for someone to complete an action. There's tricks for directing your eye, if you ever read anyth about focal points (eg biggest contrast, triangular shapes pointing towards what's important), but really with comics I keep in mind you're reading left to right and top to bottom.

The ruehob comic is actually simpler than you think 😅 I already knew which text had to be on the left and right with august's text post. And after that the "lanes" were so narrow there weren't a lot of complicated things I could do, just make sure you still read left to right and saunter vaguely downwards.

when you talk about putting little details, that doesn't necessarily have to distract people. Like I honestly applaud you having the drive to do detailing. You just have to make sure your compositions allow for it. Like if you think about ghibli backgrounds, they're elaborate and beautiful af.

For smth about isolation, my first thought was that you can draw a person in a setting alone among a bunch of objects, for instance. If you keep the person small but surround them with a bunch of detailed objects, it could feel very lonely. Just make sure the person still stands out b/c they're what's important, so for example the background stuff is a less saturated colour, or the person is the least detailed thing on the page. I think that's the main thing, you just have to make sure the things important to what you're saying stand out. Clarity is rlly half the battle when I'm laying things out haha

In school our teacher called this "killing your babies" because it sucks when you work hard on a cool drawing and it just doesn't work out😂This also still happens to me, it's actually partly why I keep things simple so I can work fast and throw out less

Here is a timestamp from supereyepatchwolf's video about Chainsaw Man, which has some of the coolest fuckin layouts

He's got other stuff that talks about manga and how eye direction can work and what cool stuff has been done. Off the top of my head his vid about one piece and his vid about gantz have helped me understand how to cause Emotions. Also I think he has one about Junji Ito that specifically talks about how details can make you scared, if you're into that 😂

hope this helps!

#q&a

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cozcat · 8 months

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Costuming the Amyrlin, part 1

I've been thinking for a while about how I love Siuan's costumes - both as pieces in themselves, and for what they might mean as they continue to tell this story. So here we are.

Please note: this post only contains spoilers for the show. Part 2 of this post will contain spoilers for the books as well, and will be linked at the end.

When we see Siuan as Amyrlin, we see her in incredibly elaborate, detailed clothing - it's intricate, it's clearly expensive, it's incredibly structured. These are the outfits that she exerts her power in - within the White Tower or outside of it, the Amyrlin stands alongside kings and queens, and that is made clear the second she walks onscreen.

It bears little resemblance to what we see her wearing in private - those moments where does not have to be the Amyrlin more than she is Siuan, because these are not the clothes of Siuan Sanche, these are the vestments of the Amyrlin Seat. But do you want to know what it does remind me of? Papal regalia.

I would not be surprised at all to find out that Isis Mussenden and Sharon Gilham intentionally channelled religious regalia, given that Siuan is often described as the wizard pope. The clothing sets expectations for those that see them, and they let person and position be the same - it's a clear purpose, and these garments achieve it. Both colour-wise and structurally, there is a strong resemblance there. Costuming is a visual cue for viewers, so when Siuan walks on in something that evokes religious authority or royalty, viewers know instantly what that means.

(Though a bonus thing for the colour of Siuan's clothing? Look what happens when you blend the seven colours of the Ajahs together...

Thank you @fuel-prices for the handy dandy image.

There is a very strong resemblance in colour. And as a side note - this is the only outfit we see her in that entirely obscures her tattoos. But we have Tairen paisley visible on the cuffs. Be it the visible tattoos or the paisley, Siuan does not shy away from where she is from.)

And the thing with both religious wear and Siuan's costumes is that I very much doubt that anybody wearing those clothes is wearing them for fun. A person in a position of power and authority is expected to look the part. Siuan needs people to think of people her as the gold standard of an Amyrlin, because she needs to deflect all belief that she could be anything otherwise. Siuan needs to look the part - Maigan straight up says that Siuan is losing her grip on the Tower: Siuan cannot afford any more doubt cast upon her. She and Moiraine have a shared mission - and in order for Siuan to succeed in her half of it, and to allow Moiraine to succeed in her half, she needs to maintain that power, and that control. Siuan is pragmatic, a planner - she's sensible! She knows she needs to be every part the Amyrlin wherever she can afford to be. So, as she would put it - why rock the boat by rebelling against the image expected of her?

And so, Siuan's costumes may not resemble what the books suggested that she wore, but they convey exactly what they need to - power, and prestige, and a unique position of authority.

I've gone into more detail on the way they might use the costuming so far for forthcoming events in part 2 of this post. Please note: book spoilers to The Gathering Storm.

#wheel of time #wot #siuan sanche #mywot

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marvelmusing · 1 year

Text

Total Eclipse

Chapter Two

Pairing: Darklina x Fem!Reader

Summary: After retrieving the candles for your saint, you join Mikhael and Dubrov at the market, only to meet someone unexpected.

Word Count: 3.1K

My Masterlist

“You know, these sure could fetch a pretty penny,” Mikhael remarks, hooking a finger over the edge of the leather satchel sitting beside you.

Not looking away from your book, you swat his hand away before he can reveal the contents of your bag to the prying eyes of the market.

As night faded from the sky early this morning, you had visited the nearest meeting point for the Cult of the Starless One. In exchange for the black candles for your church’s altar, you paint your Saint’s symbol over their candles and wooden icons in shimmering silver.

Due to an old superstition in Keramzin, only the Cult uses black candles. Everyone else believes that lighting one would summon a nichevo’ya – one of the monsters created by the Darkling during the Ravkan Civil War over a century ago.

“I know. Hands off.”

Mikhael shrugs.

“Suit yourself.”

At the sound of his smug nonchalance, you glance up from where you’ve perched yourself on a low stone wall. Dubrov lowers a box onto their makeshift table, the wood creaking as the weight of the box thuds against it. As he opens it up, you spot something vaguely familiar glistening in the late morning sun.

“What the hell are you doing with that?” you ask sharply.

He grins at you, cradling one of the necklaces from Lord Morozova’s house in his palm.

“Setting up shop.” He gestures to the necklace before he elaborates, “Handmade jewellery.”

You gape at him in half horror, half amusement.

“There isn’t a single person in Keramzin who will believe that you made that.”

He scowls at you.

“Rude.”

Before you can continue to tell him what a terrible idea this is, Mikhael turns to you.

“Your fellow fanatic’s here.”

Eyes scanning through the throngs of people, you smile widely when you spot a familiar face.

“Yuri!”

His smile is equally as wide, excitement evident on his face as he lifts up a book to show you the deep red cover.

“It’s here!” he calls out.

Two simple words, yet you understand his excitement immediately. The new copy of Istorii Sankt’ya has arrived at Keramzin’s only bookshop.

“Already? Show me.”

Shuffling over the wall, you allow Yuri enough room to sit next to you. He’s wearing his usual robes of black, with his token of the Starless One hanging around his neck, visible to everyone. Your own token lies against your chest, hidden safely underneath the layers of your shirt and jacket, accompanied by the token of Sankta Alina.

He sits down beside you, opening up the book and settling it in your lap. Entranced by the glossy pages, you smooth your fingertips over the words printed on the first page. With careful motions, you begin to turn through the pages.

“It’s beautiful,” you whisper.

The faces staring out at you are familiar ones. All painted in vibrant colours, detailing their most holy acts. Continuing through the pages, you soon find your own Saints. The breath catches in your throat as you admire the image of them.

“To your liking?” Yuri prompts with a knowing smile.

The two of you had snuck into the local archive once. All night, you had read through every edition of the Istorii Sankt’ya in their collection.

As an artist yourself, you take the depiction of your Saints very seriously. There is always something not quite right about the paintings you have seen of them, though you are only allowed to paint your Saints to the church’s liking, and you’ve never had enough money for paints of your own to truly capture their likeness as you believe them to be.

“Almost perfect.”

He nods.

“I had a good feeling about this edition. They hired an iconographer from the Os Alta cathedral.”

“That’s the height of devotion,” you murmur softly, tracing the golden rays of sunlight illuminating the face of Sankta Alina.

“Let’s see it then,” Mikhael says, swallowing down the last of an iced pastry. He licks his fingers clean before he reaches for the book. Instinctively, you close the book, folding your arms around it protectively as you press it against your chest.

“Keep your sticky fingers away.”

He feigns offense, grumbling as he wipes his fingers on the dust covered front of his jacket. There is no chance of you letting him touch this book.

“What are you doing for the summer solstice?” Yuri asks you. Mikhael answers before you can give your own response any thought.

“Same as every year, getting as drunk as we can before they throw us out of the pub.”

“Then move onto the next one,” Dubrov adds with a grin. You shake your head at the two of them with a fond smile.

At times, you feel like the odd one out among them, but you had been raised together in the orphanage on the edge of town and they are practically your brothers.

“I’m not sure,” you say to Yuri. “It falls on an eclipse doesn’t it?”

He nods.

Total eclipses happen once every two years in Ravka, and are a day of celebration for followers of the Starless One. This year you’re rather conflicted as it coincides with the summer solstice – the Saintsday of Sankta Alina.

You have never met someone who follows your two Saints. The majority of Ravka will celebrate Sankta Alina on the solstice as usual, while the Cult of the Starless One will celebrate the eclipse.

“I might just do something by myself.”

Yuri nods again, though you can tell he doesn’t like the idea of you spending such a joyous day alone.

“You know you’re always welcome with us.” You shake your head slightly, looking down at your boots.

“I know I’m welcome with you. The others I’m not so sure about.”

He looks down too, watching as you swing your legs gently, heel scraping against the stone wall.

“You know how it is. They aren’t many of us here in Keramzin. The fact that you follow two opposing Saints worries them.”

As always, you bristle internally at the thought of your Saints being opposed to one another. All of Ravka sees Sankta Alina and the Starless One as polar opposite, you however see them as two perfect halves of a whole - incomplete without the other. Which is why you feel so conflicted about celebrating one of them, whilst neglecting the other.

“I know…” You sigh. “I just…”

As your eyes scan over the crowd, your gaze locks onto a familiar face and your heart beat pounds frantically in a flurry of panic.

“Dubrov. Put the jewels away.”

Mikhael frowns at the shift in your tone, sensing something is wrong. Dubrov isn’t as perceptive.

“You see, this is why we don’t like to involve you in this sort of stuff. We know you feel bad, but he really won’t miss this stuff,” Dubrov says, trying to reassure you.

“Lord Morozova is here.”

“What?” He turns quickly, following the direction of your eyes. “Fuck.”

The two of them scramble to shove the jewels back into the box. Some fall on the ground, some land awkwardly in the box, preventing him from shutting the lid properly. They cram brooches and strings of pearls into their pockets. Mikhael kicks a diamond ring under the table.

Once they’ve finished, their table of trinkets looks rather bare but at least they won’t be arrested – or worse. A man like Lord Morozova has the power to turn heads in the opposite direction should he want to punish someone personally.

Whilst the Morozova line has been known to be ruthless during times of war, the man you had met yesterday wasn’t anything like the rumours you had heard about him. Nevertheless, you still think he might react harshly at the thought of you breaking into his house.

Yuri raises a questioning brow, but you shake your head, and he accepts your lack of explanation as he observes the way your fingers run nervously over the spine of Istorii Sankt’ya, subconsciously seeking the comfort of your Saints.

Too busy worrying about what Lord Morozova’s presence here means, you don’t notice the woman by his side at first. When you do, you can’t take your eyes from her.

Her dark hair is pulled back, neatly woven into a series of braids and her eyes are wide as she takes in every sight and sound around her. Occasionally she will pull lightly on Lord Morozova’s arm, pointing something out to him when he ducks his head down to give her his full attention.

When his eyes lock on yours the breath catches in your throat. He tilts his head as recognition sparks in his eyes, then he says something to his wife, and you’re unaware of anything except the pounding of blood in your ears.

“He’s heading this way. Please be normal,” you plead, looking at the two boys who currently look like the most awkward pair of actors thrust up onto stage with only half a script.

Dubrov ducks under the table, pretending he’s lost something, while Mikhael counts their meagre profits of the day so far, fidgeting with the coins to the point in which he drops a few onto Dubrov’s head. With a small sigh, you send a quick prayer to your Saints to protect your idiot friends.

“Lord Morozova,” you greet him with a smile. Hopefully he is too focused on you to pay them any attention. He says your name softly with a nod of acknowledgement.

“This is my wife - Alina.”

For a moment you’re too busy staring at the way her dark lashes brush over her cheekbones and the way her skin glows soft in the sunlight as she smiles at you. Luckily, you manage a reasonably polite response.

“A pleasure to meet you, Lady Morozova.”

She shakes her head lightly.

“Just Alina is fine, please.”

Clearly Lord Morozova disapproves, his brows creasing slightly as he glances at his wife. Looking down, you wonder how you can agree to her wish without upsetting him.

“Can we compromise on Lady Alina?” you suggest.

She smiles as she hums teasingly, butterflies fluttering in your stomach at the playful glint in her dark eyes.

“I suppose.”

Rather shyly, you smile back at her. Lord Morozova takes this as an opportunity to step back into the conversation.

“We’ve been looking for the local paint shop, and I wondered whether you might be able to point us in the right direction.” You nod.

“I can take you there now. If you would like?” you offer, already pushing away from the wall before they can answer.

“We don’t want to trouble you,” Lady Alina insists. You shake your head, picking up your satchel and shrugging the strap over your shoulder. The candles are a little heavy to be carrying, but you don’t trust the boys not to steal a few.

“It’s no trouble.”

As you go to hand Istorii Sankt’ya back to Yuri, he shakes his head.

“Keep it.”

“Yuri-”

“You deserve it.”

Swallowing hard, you smile gratefully at him. He knows what this means to you. Yuri is one of the only people who accepts your unconventional beliefs. Standing on tiptoe, you press a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you.”

A shy smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

When you turn back to Lord Morozova and his wife, you find them both watching you intently and warmth flushes over your cheeks. Adjusting the strap of your satchel, you gesture towards a narrow street.

“It’s just down here.”

They both keep pace with you as you stroll leisurely through the small gathering of townspeople. The streets aren’t too busy, which makes you feel less conscious about the attention the two of them gain. Ignoring the eyes, you decide to make some conversation with them.

“Are you enjoying Keramzin so far?”

Lady Alina nods.

“It’s a lot different from the last time I was here.”

Her arm slides from where it had been wrapped around her husband’s elbow, her hand settling into his and you see him offer her fingers a small squeeze. Looking away from the pair quickly, you glance down at the route you’re taking them on before you nod and say,

“It’s still a quiet town, but the market was expanded down to the next two streets last year.”

“Did you grow up here?” Lord Morozova asks you. You nod again.

“There’s an orphanage on the edge of town. Me, Dubrov and Mikhael – the two boys at the stall – we grew up there together and live further in town now.”

“And the other boy?”

“Yuri. His parents own a farm not far from the orphanage.”

A small smile tugs at your lips as you remember how Yuri had been the one to encourage your painting. The look of awe on his face, when you had gifted him the first ever candle you had painted – black of course with golden brushstrokes detailing the creation of the Fold – still keeps you motivated even now.

Before he can ask any further questions, you reach the paint shop.

The shop owner – a sharp eyed old woman with an equally sharp temper – scowls the moment you enter the shop, the bell ringing overhead as you hold the door open.

“If you’re not buying anything, get-“ Her words are halted by the presence of Lord Morozova, and she looks back down at the embroidery she’s been working on.

As always, the shop is silent, and you slide your bag off your shoulder to prevent any unintentional damage to the displays.

Lady Alina eyes the art supplies eagerly, gaze falling all the way to the back of the shop, where the shelves weave out of sight into a labyrinth of paints, brushes and canvases. An artists haven. She glances back at her husband, but he shakes his head.

“Take your time, Alinochka. I’ll wait here.”

She doesn’t hesitate for long before she’s disappearing among the shelves. As silence descends between you and Lord Morozova, you rub your thumb over the cover of Istorii Sankt’ya. You had only offered to take them to the paint shop, now that you had done that you could go. But you don’t want to.

This isn’t your first time in this shop, but it is most definitely the longest period of time spent here. Usually, the owner gets cranky over the fact that you only visit as an opportunity to browse and breathe in the scent of paint. Everything in this shop is far too expensive for you.

Luckily, Lord Morozova tilts his head in your direction as he looks passively at a selection of canvases and decides to initiate a conversation quiet enough to escape the scrutiny of the old woman who keeps shooting looks of suspicion at you.

“I’ve been searching for some black candles, Alina and I have them in our bedroom at Os Alta, but I can’t seem to find any here.”

At the mention of their bedroom, warmth blooms over your cheeks. That feels like intimate knowledge, something you shouldn’t know, and yet now every time you light a candle for the Starless Saint, you will think about how a similar candle might simultaneously be burning at their bedside.

“They are rather hard to find,” you admit. He studies your expression, and you wonder whether he can see how flustered the idea of their bedroom makes you.

“You told the minister you would find some at the market.”

“I didn’t say that.” Before he can disagree, you add, “I told him I would visit the market today. I never said I would get the candles from the market.”

He pauses. The corner of his mouth twitches and you wonder whether you had just impressed him. A thrill runs through you at such a thought. He nods in concession.

“Then where do you get your candles from?”

“It’s a secret.”

He smiles with a twinkle in his eyes as he leans closer to you.

“I won’t tell.”

The warmth of your cheeks runs down your body at his conspiratorial whisper, but you shake your head despite the smile on your face.

“I can’t. But I can give you some of mine.”

At that, he almost looks concerned.

“Don’t you need them?”

You shake your head.

“I don’t let them burn long. Just during prayer.”

When you realise what you’ve said, what you’ve just admitted, you freeze, smile dropping from your face. Black candles are only used for prayer to one Saint – the one that he is supposedly descended from. Concerned about his reaction, it takes you a moment to pull your eyes back to his face.

He nods slowly, his smile softening.

“You’re certain? I don’t want to take them from you if you need them.”

You shake your head.

“I’m just under halfway through my last one. I can spare a few.”

Unless you have an exceptionally lonely night. After a particularly hard day, when rest alludes you no matter what you do, lighting the Starless One’s candle always helps soothe you. Its scent is the soft creaminess of candle wax and the crisp berries they use to stain the candle black.

There’s nothing that compares to it, though in such proximity to Lord Morozova, you can’t help but observe that he smells remarkably similar to the candles. He must be wearing some sort of cologne. You don’t think you’ve ever met a man who wears cologne, and you’re tempted to turn your face into him and breathe it in.

Lady Alina returns with an armful of paints and longing fills you at the sight of such high quality supplies. The church give you what they can for your work, but it certainly isn’t the best.

At the prospect of a purchase, the old woman at the counter seems more amicable, though you do your best to remain unnoticed.

Once you’re back on the street, you open up your satchel pulling out a worn cloth bag which you shyly offer to Lady Alina. It isn’t the sort of quality a noble would be used to, but it will help her carry her supplies. She thanks you with a genuine smile and you open up your satchel once again and pick up the first candle you can grasp at.

“Will three be enough?” you ask Lord Morozova.

Amusement touches at his features as he observes you continuing to rifle through your bag in search of more candles. He shakes his head.

“Two will suffice.”

As you’re placing the candles into Lady Alina’s bag, she pulls out a small tin filled with paints – a travel set. She offers it to you.

“Here.”

Looking down at them, your fingers freeze mid-air.

“Lady Alina, I couldn’t-”

“Please, I wanted them for you.”

You blink at her in momentary confusion.

“Really?”

She nods, smiling kindly. You can hardly believe your luck – your own copy of Istorii Sankt’ya and your very first set of paints.

“Thank you, so much.” Your voice breaks a little as you thank her and for a moment you’re tempted to hug her. Then you remember who you’re talking to and step back slightly. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

There’s something sharp that glimmers in her eyes, as if your words had brought back a forgotten memory and she understands your reaction.

“You’re welcome,” she says softly.

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur @ilikefictionmen @budugu @watersquirtpewpewboomm @mysweetlittledesire @dhampiravidi

S&B Tag List: @motheroffae

TE Tag List: @tartiflvtte

Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211 @wooya1224 @seronsalk @housekeeperjjswife

BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia @weallhaveadestiny @two-unbeatable-beaters

#darklina x reader #aleksander morozova x reader x alina starkov #aleksander morozova x reader #alina starkov x reader #darklina au #shadow and bone au #shadow and bone x reader #aleksander morozova #alina starkov

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thecluehunt · 3 months

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welcome to the clue hunt!

how does this thing work?

to join the search for the 39 clues you will need to concoct a serum that will make you(r branch) all-powerful and set for world domination. follow this blog and/or like this post to register:)

this is an online clue hunt based on tumblr inspired by the 39 clues series. you do not have to have read the series to participate, although it might be more fun if you have!

a list of 39 elements, each with an associated number to account for its quantity in the final serum, has been determined and will soon be circulated across the threads of the interwebs. the goal of this clue hunt will be to collect all of these clues for your branch!

there will be four branches the participants will be loosely divided into based on their interests (will elaborate on this in a bit). the lucians (red, the cunning branch, think codes and logic and conniving), the ekaterinas (yellow, the stem branch), the tomas (blue, the athletic branch, which in the context of this clue hunt translates to gamers/shit that requires good motor skills) and the janus (green, the artistic branch)

each participant will be given a few clues at the start of the game. you will randomly be alloted into branches UNLESS you send an ask to this blog with a preferred branch. to make sure each branch has more or less equal numbers, asking for a specific branch will mean you will be given less clues than other participants at the start of the game (i.e. there is an advantage to random branch assignment).

you will be told your final branch privately and will not be revealed the branches of any other participants.

you will be required to hide the few clues given to you across the interwebs (there won't be many clues don't worry) in internet trails, using codes, links, metaphors, required tasks you need to complete to attain the clue, etc etc. this will largely be up to you and you will be allowed to use your creative license - but you will have to send your trail to this blog to make sure it is workable and not too vague lol. i will edit/fine tune everything and if you can't think of anything i will make a trail for you

if you pick your own branch, you will be required to incorporate the core values of your branch into your trails. so for the janus this means hiding clues in art, for lucians this means codes and cryptography related things maybe, etc etc.

write your tumblr url somewhere near where you leave the clue so people know you left it there!

a map will be provided with the location of each clue around the world, colour coded. so for example, myrrh, a clue from the original series, is an ekaterina clue native to north africa. so, a yellow dot representing myrrh will be marked in this region. this can be used to find out what branches other members are in. for example, if you find out a fellow participant hid the clue myrrh, you can deduce they are from the ekaterina branch because there is a yellow dot in the region it's from. if you are also an ekat, this means you can trust them with your clues because you're on the same team:)

a certain number of clues will not be given to any participants and will be withheld as madrigal clues. these will be hidden by me:)

you can recruit members who haven't registered to help you with your hunt well into the game! however, you need to have registered at the beginning (i.e. be following this blog and like this post) to receive your own clues

any/all forms of cheating and backstabbing will be allowed (for everyone except me/the madrigals that is):D

to help with organizing if you don't want to participate, you can join the madrigals! we are a neutral team who cannot by definition win and are just having fun organizing all this lol

more details including duration, prizes, etc will be shared/updated later!

happy hunting!

tagging people who interacted with my post about this: @the39cluesian @iankabra @yakalll @angelkat-x @icamebackfromnarnia @39addict101 @manicpixiess @bilhert @mediodedios @toiletpotato @39starrygurl @gaslighting69 @nimonaaaa @dinatela @amianislovely @fandom-oracle @sarasanddollar @carpe-astrae @ghost-in-a-cup @cosmo-babe @kadalakari

#the 39 clues

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the-modern-typewriter · 10 months

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Would you talk about your process of writing short stories, if you don't mind? Do you outline it before hand? do you make it up as you go? is it the same w the prompts you get vs stories like The Blue Key or The Art of Turning 30?

It's different for stories that are prompted on here and stories like The Blue Key, The Gallery of Broken Things or the Art of Turning 30 which I have come up with entirely independently and unprompted.

It's also sometimes different for stories that are prompted on here, and other stories I've written based on a prompt from a friend, such as Escapology, Half Sick of Shadows and My Love is Like a Red, Red Rose - but these are more similar because they are still varying degrees of prompt based.

The first question, when I have an idea/prompt, is how big do I want the story to be. Some ideas require novels, some are perfect for short stories. Figuring out which is which comes with practice.

Writing from a prompt

Stories that are triggered by a prompt come (to a point, some prompts are more specific/detailed than others) with a certain amount of inbuilt scaffolding or clues as to what the story must be about.

I talk about different sources of ideas, including writing from a prompt, in this post. The prompt bit gives a sense of my general process when writing tumblr stories with more specific prompts.

For a non specific prompt...

The next tumblr inbox prompt I think I'm going to write when I have a sufficient moment is:

ah, could you write something about a vampire x mortal who always reincarnates

It's a tumblr drabble, I'm thinking 2000 words max, so fairly simple without an elaborate planned plot. It's just for fun. I don't go into the story assuming I am going to continue it. I also don't assume someone on tumblr is going to read loads of backstory and set-up, so I just skip to the most interesting scene that comes to mind with as little set-up as possible.

So, I know I have a vampire character and a reincarnating mortal character. The 'x' implies that the story is going to have, to some level or another, a romance thread.

However, the prompt otherwise immediately raises a lot of questions; the decisions/answers I make to these questions shape the story. Examples of questions that pop to mind.

Am I writing in the POV of the human or the vampire?

Does the mortal remember that they reincarnate or do they start from scratch every time?

When the story starts, does the vampire know that the love of their life reincarnates, or is this the first time that they are seeing their love after thinking they were going to live the rest of their immortal life alone?

How did the mortal die the first time? Was it happy or traumatic?

If it's not the first time they are seeing each other post reincarnation, how did the previous lives go? This will colour the relationship dynamic.

Why is the mortal reincarnating?

Why are the two of them seeing each other in the present of the story? What does each character want out of the scene?

I love an antagonistic dynamic and conflict is brilliant for short stories, so I might go one step further and immediately decide that I want the vampire and the mortal to be opposed/in conflict in some way.

If conflict, what conflict should I pick?

After a certain amount of this, it's just pick whichever answer I am in the mood for on any given day and go.

Writing without a clear prompt

This is more difficult, but I also tend to love these stories more when I do get inspiration for them. There also isn't one process that works for all of these as it tends to change a bit with every story.

(Although I don't tend to outline short stories.)

More often than not, when these stories happen it is because a very clear idea or nugget pops into my head or a strong urge to write about something in particular, and I tend to write the whole thing in a matter of days or hours. They have a lot of iceberg time in my head where I'm sort of thinking about them, then there's a click.

As an example:

I wrote The Blue Key because I love fairytales, the mythos of Bluebeard and haunted houses. I knew I wanted to write something inspired by Bluebeard in this instance, so I knew that I needed a house, a couple, a key and a locked door that must not/should not be opened.

Because I love these stories, I had them on my mind so I wanted them to play into the story. What does it mean to have so many stories about curiosity and its consequence, about having a love that you are not allowed to look at? I re-read some of my favourites and I came across this quote about Bluebeard by Margaret Atwood. I read people talking about how they would be smarter than the wife, or how they just wouldn't look, as if it's always that easy.

What would happen if you didn't know which story you were in? What would happen if the Bluebeard character was also trapped in a story that he didn't want to play out, where there was love as well as horror? What happens if you are in a story where you have the fairytale rules where you must give your wife a key and you must not tell her what is behind the door.

What happens then?

The Blue Key was my answer to that general brain mulch.

#writing stories #writing talk #idk

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gotchi-blog · 8 months

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Sumikko Friend Review

This will be a long one. I never really thought that I will own any virtual pet that isn't Tamagotchi. But then I saw Sumikko Friend and I couldn't stop thinking about it for months, until I got a chance to buy it. It was pricey, true, but after having it for a while I can say - it's worth it.

General score: 9/10

Design

First off, I really love the design. The toy is of similar size as a colour-screen Tamagotchi, but it's way lighter. The back is flat - you can rest the device comfortably on a table or other surface, however most of the interactions use the motion sensor, so get ready to hold your new buddy a lot. It ever has little leg-like bumps to avoid scratching the back.

The screen is the same size as Tamagotchi's, but it differs when it comes to the display. Sumikko screen is way softer, with pastel colours. Very nice to look at, especially if you're a fan of pastel aesthetics. However, it's a pain to take a good photo of it - the contrast is too low to make the details of the background as well-visible as in real life. It's a shame. I want people to see how pretty the rooms and animations are! Especially since some of the wallpapers for the rooms are animated, something I've never seen in Tamagotchi.

The brightness settings are alright. The sound is a bit worse - the device is quite loud even at the lowest setting. And it makes a lot of sounds - games, animations, Friend Mode. There is always some squeaking to be done. Fortunately, the sounds are all very pleasant, so it's actually a very nice experience. Just remember to mute it in public. Another trick is to simply cover the speaker at the back with your finger - that's not really possible with Tamagotchi, where the speakers are more hidden.

The device comes with 2 covers - Tokage and Shirokuma. I will elaborate on their functions later on. Here I just want to say that they are so pretty. The designs are simple and very cute. Especially the Shirokuma cover gets me - the little ears are just adorable. The plastic used is solid, matte and smooth, very pleasant to touch.

Finally, there are 2 physical buttons and one touch one, hidden at the top of the device. The left button is used to choose, the right one to confirm, and the touch button on top is the cancel one. The buttons are responsive and nice to touch. The touch one is very sensitive and works very well.

2. Basic idea behind the device

Sumikko Friend is my first non-Tamagotchi virtual pet, so I had to adjust to a different gameplay. The most important difference is that your characters don't evolve nor grow up. You have 2 pets in this model: Tokage (a blue water dragon who pretends to be a lizard) and Shirokuma (a polar bear who moved south due to disliking cold climate.) They don't change - the goal of taking care of them is to become good friends. They don't grow old nor leave. The true fun is playing and interacting with the characters. There are a few levels of friendship and they are increased by playing, feeding and petting Tokage and Shirokuma.

Another important goal is to collect pictures of Sumikko characters, foods and toys. It's done through using traps - there are quite a lot of them. You can either buy them or get them through Outing (another feature I will elaborate on later while talking about the main menu.) This part of the gameplay is cute, though not the most engaging. I often forget about it, but once I remember, I have to admit - the Sumikko illustrations are very cute.

So yeah, your buddies won't die if you mistreat them. They might run away, though. Still, getting them back is not difficult. Generally, Sumikko Friend is not that demanding when it comes to attention it needs.

3. Sumikko Rooms and Basic Care

Here you have an overview of the menu. We'll start with the Sumikko Rooms.

There are 2 of them - Tokage's and Shirokuma's. The characters sit, sleep and play there. You can toggle between them with the left button. The right one opens the care menu. Here you can feed, play the games that use the covers, clean the room, use the shower, check the stats and go Outing. You can also give toys to your pets and change the room wallpaper/furniture.

What's important about feeding is that both characters have their favourite/disliked foods. The favourite foods will fill up the hunger meter faster, while the disliked foods will get rejected and not eaten. You can check which items are liked/disliked by each character online (I highly recommend checking out the English translation of the manual made by Fuzzy N Chic - it includes the foods and care tips too.)

Showering and cleaning the room is needed more often if you play the games a lot. Especially the room dusting is important - if you don't do it often enough, the dust will block your screen and make it impossible to play until you clean it.

Remodel allows you to change the wallpaper and the furniture in the left corner of the screen. Some of the wallpapers are unlocked through increasing the friendship meter, some are obtained through Outing. The furniture can be either bought in the Sumikko Market or obtained through Outing as well. The wallpapers are usually animated - it's a beautiful detail. The moving swing or a tree rustling in the wind are very cute.

The toys unlock new idle animations. They are adorable - I especially love the doll house and knitting ones. While knitting, the characters take a break to stare at you, which feels like a real interaction that happen when your pet realises that you're watching them play. Very sweet.

Outing is a very interesting feature. While using it, the screen shows a map. When you walk around with the Sumikko device in your pocket/backpack, the little pin on the map moves around. In the top left corner, you see the counter of the circles walked around the map. The device actually reacts to shaking, so if you want to, you can simulate taking walks by shaking it (lazy!) In the Outing mode, the characters collect food, toys, furniture and traps for catching Sumikko.

The Friend Games: there are 5 games. They are quite simple and fun. 4 of them use the movement sensor, which makes them more interactive.

Imitating Freeze: the character makes a sequence of dance moves. Your task is to repeat them but tilting the device in the right directions

Look this way: very similar to the first one, but quicker and without the sequence part. The character's face moves in a direction. Your job is to tilt the device in the same direction

Frilly Dancing: this one will make your hand hurt. Shake the poor creature up and down as fast as you can. The goal is to set a new record when it comes to the number of shakes in the given game time

Minikko Hide & Seek: the bean-shaped thing will hide in your room. Your task is to find it. Do it by tilting the device left or right. The ringing sound will become faster once you approach the bean. When you find it, the Sumikko will have a happy face. Touch the top of the cover to end the game

Smile Stop: the only game that doesn't use the motion sensor. Stop the changing Sumikko faces on a happy or neutral one. Do it by touching the top of the cover. Pro tip: the happiest face always comes after the frowned one. Once you see the frown, get ready to click

Finally, the Friend Check option is just to check the stats. It shows you the Friend level and hunger. I was slightly surprised that the stats are the last option. On the other hand, you don't really need to check what's going on - the characters will let you know what's wrong through animations.

The Sumikko wake up at 6 am and fall asleep at 8 pm. Good for students, not that good for lazy cucks who have nothing better to do. Well, the toy is meant for a younger audience, so I can't blame them. Still, I'd prefer if they went to sleep a bit later.

4. Traps

The next option in the main menu is the Sumikko catching. To start, you need some traps. The metal claw is free and unlimited, but the rest you need to either buy at the market or get from Outing. There are a few methods of using the traps - that depends on what's displayed on the screen. Sometimes you need to tilt the device, sometimes click a button. Just pay attention to the animation on the screen.

As I've mentioned in the second segment, the point of this feature is to obtain cute Sumikko illustrations. There isn't anything more to it, but it's still nice.

Sometimes, you will randomly get a chance to draw a special price, usually a food item or another trap. Also, sometimes a wild Sumikko or Minikko appears and you can catch them for free.

5. Settings

Quite self-explanatory. Here you can set the date, time, your birthday, brightness, sound, use the secret passwords and reset the device.

The remarkable thing are the secret codes. They aren't numeric, like in Tamagotchi, but consist of a few shapes that you need to arrange in the correct order. It's hard to find them, especially since the device is quite unknown in western countries, but I found this website that has some:

Also, the Fuzzy N Chic review video on YT includes the code from a gift card that was attacked to some sets. Unfortunately, I didn't get one in mine.

6. Sumikko Market

Here you can buy food, toys, furniture and traps. You'll be here quite often - Tokage and Shirokuma eat a lot. The prices are fine, so don't worry too much about that even if you don't play games too often.

The toy and furniture offer is small, since most of it is obtained through Outing.

7. Game centre

As you can easily guess, here you can find gamest. None of them demands the covers, so they are pretty comfortable and quick. I will quickly go over them here. Each game has 2 modes - easy and hard. The "hard" mode isn't really that hard, but it gives you more Sumikko coins, so usually I go with it. Interesting thing - you can play the games even once the Sumikko are asleep, Good for insomniacs, I suppose.

Shirokuma's Apple Harvest: tilt the device left and right to catch all the apples. Avoid acorns - they hurt Shirokuma and slow it down

Penguin's? Long Distance Run: tilt the device to make Penguin? run and collect stars. Reach the finish line before the time runs out. Avoid the holes - they make you lose instantly

Neko's Sumikko Eats: tilt the device up and down to avoid the bushes and eat the foods. The cat food gives you more energy than onigiri

Tokage's Gem Collecting: my personal favourite. Tilt the device in different directions to control the fat lizard as it collects the gems in the water. Watch out for the jellyfish - they will hurt and slow you down!

Tonkatsu's Happy Dance: fried bits will come from left and right. Once they are in the circle, click left or right button to throw them off

Sumikko Roulette Fortune: click left or right button to stop the roulette. Various characters give you different points. This game is the easiest but gives very few Sumikko coins

8. Library

Here you can see all the pictures/items you've collected. Each has a short description. Not the most interesting if you don't read Japanese, but they are quite adorable.

9. Friend Mode

When you put on one of the covers, your device goes into the Friend mode. The face of the character is displayed on the screen and you can interact with them. This is necessary to keep them happy throughout the day - nothing will replace physical touch. Pet them, rock them to the sides and press on their hands. They love it, especially the petting.

Pro-tip: rocking won't work unless the Sumikko is already happy. Just pet them with gentle stroked on top of the device, giving them breaks to return to regular face. Once they start blushing after some petting, it means they are happy. Then you can rock them too.

In my experience, Shirokuma is more demanding in care than Tokage - they go hungry at the same time but Shirokuma gets upset faster.

10. Conclusion

Generally, I highly recommend getting Sumikko Friend. It's unique and amazing to play with. You just can't get enough of looking at it. You can get some decent offers on eBay (that's where I got mine.) The gameplay is very different from Tamagotchi, but it's a welcome fresh breeze. I absolutely love it and it made me want to take further look into the Sumikko franchise

🌸

#sumikko #sumikko review #sumikko gurashi #sumikko friend #virtual pet #virtual pet review #my collection #toys #cute

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fowlfics · 9 days

Text

other than my Crocodad DofuWani bullshit (which is now at 22k and yes this is the first im mentioning it here whoops its still only half done. send help) my other brainrot which i have been thinking about today is AceLaw.

More specifically, an AceLaw where they met shortly after Ace entered the Grand Line, started dating, Marineford happened as normal... And then the plot starts. With Luffy and Law and the insurmountable mountain of grief they're both shouldering.

I have something relatively short (2k) to post about it soon, courtesy of exploring exactly how many characters will discord let me cram into a single message (got to -8808 lol) over in MDL

Here's an excerpt bc i ought to make some use of this blog:

Pulling out the leather-bound journal, he set it carefully on Luffy's lap.

"Please don't destroy it. There's only this one copy."

Luffy glanced up at him, baffled. It was better than anger or sadness, at least.

Law motioned towards the book wordlessly and leaned against the desk; No description he could give for the book would be better than Luffy just taking a look himself.

He pulled the cover open gingerly, recoiling slightly at the sight of the first page. It was inked almost fully black, with only three coloured letters right in the middle of it: red A, blue S and yellow L.

Their first Jolly Roger, Ace had told him. The one they flew over the treehouse right up until they abandoned it after their brother's death.

Law supposed it might still hang there, if no one had bothered to take it down.

Luffy whipped his head up, staring at him with wide eyes.

"Keep going," Law encouraged. "He wanted you to see it, eventually."

Looking back down, Luffy turned the page. And then again, and again, and again, moving through the pages fast enough to make it clear he wasn't actually reading any of the words, barely looking at the pictures.

If he was anything like Ace, he likely couldn't read all that well, not even the carefully calligraphed words Ace had bribed Law into writing for him.

That was fine, though. There would be time for reading, later. Luffy already knew most of those stories, anyway. He had been there for them.

The only novelty would be getting to learn Ace's perspective on them; Something that, judging by his words, Luffy could clearly use.

It didn't take him long to reach the end, flipping the pages faster and faster until he reached the end of the filled portion. The few dozen empty pages fell towards the rest easily, opening the journal on the last page, the one Ace had most often returned to.

Luffy's hand carefully traced the edges of the portrait carefully inserted into the back cover.

"This..." he trailed off.

Law gave him a moment. When it became clear he wasn't going to continue, he filled in himself.

"Is Sabo, yes."

Luffy looked up at him again. There was old pain filling them, old tears.

"Ace had been working on it for a long time," Law elaborated. "I have a whole binder of his previous attempts, too. He wasn't happy with how this one turned out, either, but he said it was the closest he could get." And then, because he had been curious for the longest time- "Did he get it right?"

Luffy hunched his shoulder. "...I don't know," he said. "I don't- I didn't remember what Sabo looked like, anymore."

It's been ten years, to be fair. If someone had asked Law to describe Cora-san, he would have had troubles, too. Feathery coat, heart-dingled hat, wide lipstick smile, spikes under his eye, that much he remembered.

But how many spikes? Under which eye? What colour were the eyes themselves?

Time had an unfortunate habit of sanding away the details, taking the sharp edges of memories and tumbling them into blunt, opaque things, like sea glass.

It did the same to grief; That was the price you paid for healing.

#fowlficsbits #one piece #monkey d luffy #trafalgar d water law #portgas d ace #SFOI #< the crocodad dofuwani bullshit tag #MHMBAB #< this AceLaw AU #bc i have terminal brainrot and I might talk more about it

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neverevan · 8 months

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Re: Buck's loft decor - they kind of established that his designer /artist girlfriend (Ali) designed the place or at least had a heavy hand in picking things out.

Yeah I can give credit for most of the furniture to Ali, but that's about it. But thank you for this ask, because it made me go down the rabbit hole, so here are the details of Buck's loft in regards to what Ali had influence on and everything that changed since.

So this is the scene immediately before she broke up with Buck and just around the time Buck moved in. Seemingly the pictures by the door aren't there yet, nor are the baskets and the pictures on the shelf by his bed (see later pics), it's very much the bare minimum, right? Furniture, kitchen appliances, TV, some rugs and blankets.

The next time we see the loft is in season 3 when Eddie comes to help Buck pull himself together. If you look at the shelf you have some baskets and pictures there that are pretty distinctive and were not there when Ali dropped him off. Obviously people will have stuff on their shelves in their homes, that's not my point here. But look at the basket and the little box beside it... Whatever's inside, it sure as hell looks decorative to me.

Then moving onto the covid era. There are pictures by the door, but also a new dining table. (The one that was presumably picked by Ali was round.) The rug in the kitchen seems new too.

As far as I could tell this is the first time we see this plant, but I admit I might be wrong about that, because we don't exactly see this corner when Ali breaks up with Buck.

Then going forward with the other small stuff from later seasons (before and after Taylor moved in).

Look at the plant and the baskets on the dining table (you can see them on most pics actually). Clearly decorative.

And then there's the fruit bowl. Again, not trying to generalise one bit, but how many cishet guys do you know who live alone and have a fruit bowl? (Same guy "who's idea about healthy food is a side salad" apparently.)

I also honestly doubt that the gloves and the apron are coming from Ali either, but I'm willing to write them up to Maddie or Taylor (except these are colours we see Buck wear regularly when off duty).

This one is just for my amusement, because look at all those spices! (Actually I will point back to this in a minute.)

And finally this picture to talk about the cleanliness.

That is a hell of a light coloured kitchen furniture. Do you know how hard it is to keep something like that clean? (Unfortunately I do, from experience.) Especially when you're a guy who regularly cooks and bakes and not just easy meals, but like very elaborate recipes, admittedly even trying them out 3 times before even serving it to anyone.

But this is my main point: This is not a real flat. This is not a real kitchen. This is a set.

The set designers' job is to create a set that corresponds to the story and the characters interacting in it (while you also have someone on set who pays attention to continuity with objects and stuff, but sometimes you still end up with Starbucks cups on a medieval set, whoops), their job also includes adding tear, wear, dirt and grime accordingly to the usage of certain places and objects.

Of course, it's more than possible that they never really thought about it from this angle, they just wanted the set to look warmer when filming scenes in it and having it clean for continuity purposes.

All that being said, within the show this is Buck's place and someone's home tells you a lot about the person. So, regardless of it being intentional in most cases, this loft and the items in it aren't exactly what you'd normally find in a bachelor's pad. (Nor do I think someone could afford a place like that alone in LA, but that's an entirely different topic.)

#evan buckley #evan buck buckley #911 #911 fox #anon #ask #I've really gone deep with this one #but remember these are just musings I'm not working on the show lmao #don't have to agree but that won't change my opinions #my stuff

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jalebi-weds-bluetooth · 11 months

Text

IPKKND OS: Lonely In A Crowd

TW: None

Genre: Family, Drama, Angst

Payal Gupta rarely worked a sweat over fashion. If it was simple, felt soft and didn’t require an instruction manual to wear, it was enough. But ever since Khushi informed that Arnav hosted a party for her and Akash, Payal couldn’t think straight.

Although she never had the chance of actually mingling with the Raizadas in their social circle - she still remembered the outfits worn during Anjali’s anniversary. Payal hesitated, Shyam’s secret sat like a deadweight in her mind. She just knew that she and Akash couldn’t be happy because their foundation was based on a truth she and her family hid.

“Jiji!” A flash of gold and pink broke Payal out of her thoughts. Bless her sister for actually finding a saree good enough to wear at a Raizada party.

“You’ll look like a Raees-zada in this saree Jiji. It really looks like gold is stitched in.” Khushi fussed over Payal, checking the sequenced pallu against her shoulder. Payal smiled, the outfit was something she would never wear on any occasion but then this wasn’t any other occasion. She would have to dress up as much as she could.

“Thank you Khushi!” Payal kissed Khushi’s cheek and began dressing up. Despite all the assurances, it was evident to Khushi that Payal was bothered. Who wouldn’t be? It was Arnav Singh Raizada’s party. It’s a surprise the location wasn’t Hell.

Well it was his office. And going by her experience it offered no less than eternal damnation.

Khushi looked at her phone, the poor Nokia crushing in her grip. Then she took a deep breath. Even though she had tried ten times to convince the Laad Governor that Payal was as far from his snobby society as jalebi from achaar, she should call him again.

– – – – –

“Laad Governor!” Payal laughed, wondering what pissed Khushi off now.

“I told him a billion times-”

“-two times,” Payal checked Khushi’s exaggeration, “Jiji, have you ever tried to say anything to the Laad Governor? Something he wouldn’t want to hear!” Khushi huffed.

“Actually I did. About the working conditions in his office.” Payal pointed out, testing the gloss on her lips. Khushi blinked, how did Payal not scheme his torture plan then? Not that Khushi had anything detailed like bleaching all his black coloured shirts and making him sit in a twelve hour puja in a stiff kurta pajama with nothing cool to drink.

So how was it possible that after a conversation with Arnav Singh Raizada, Payal hadn’t planned an elaborate scheme to simply send the exasperating man to another planet? Khushi could bet he’d be far more comfortable and find more in common with aliens than his own species. Maybe he’d terrify them as well with his what the as well.

Also, how did Arnav not send a fifty page letter to Payal highlighting ‘what the’ and ‘how dare you’ about her aukaad in trying to teach him about working conditions?

“Maybe he knew you were Akash ji’s setting.” Khushi mused. Payal responded by throwing a pillow smack on Khushi’s face.

“Try talk-”

“I DID!”

“Oh really? Between using NK ji as a buffer and making fun of what a cocktail party is, when did you talk to him?” Payal pointed out. Khushi opened her mouth to argue but she had nothing else to say. Begrudgingly she had to admit that Payal was right. She never tried to honestly talk to him. Playing dumb charades and singing the praises of jalebis are not “please understand Jiji needs a comfortable environment where she - and Khushi - are not intimidated by everything”.

Agreed, it would mean baring her deepest insecurities to man who trampled her heart-

Khushi bit her tongue at the offending thought. When, where and why did that flare up! Perhaps Devi Maiyya was punishing her for not trying her best for Payal.

And despite Arnav’s eternal scowl, he had proved that with an honest conversation he’d give his best.

It’s literally how Akash and Payal’s marriage was happening!

With a big sigh, she called him.

– – – – –

65 minutes later

“I agree, my recommendations for a jalebi stall wasn’t the best but he knew! He knew I would be uncomfortable. Kyunki he himself said - uncomfortable feel karogi? I told Jiji that Laad Governor must’ve been born after a hundred rakshas died but no, she’s barely a Raizada and she forgot her sister of 20 years for a guy she knows for 20 days. I will not go, not over my dead body!” Khushi yelled at the steaming hot jalebi and stuffed it in her mouth.

At this point she didn’t even know what she was angry about. That he cut the call on her, refused to understand her or knowingly didn’t invite her.

It was her sister damn it! Angry, Khushi stuffed another jalebi. She was now speaking like him!

“Haye re Nandkisore, why are you eating these half cooked ja-”

“TOH KYA? You will also uninvite me from this house like that Laad Governor? Should I stop making jalebis here? Am I so bad? I love parties! I love dancing! I wanted to go there so bad but jaaye meri jooti! Why does everyone always yell at me? Why doesn’t anyone love me-” Khushi sniffled. Madhumati was rarely ever surprised, but Khushi’s sudden outburst caught her off guard.

“Nobody yells at you Tital-”

“HAWW EVERYONE DOES!” Khushi sobbed, blowing her nose into Madhumati’s pallu. Madhumati bit back a smile, turned off the stove and led Khushi to the sofa. At times like this it felt like Khushi didn’t grow a year over eight.

“You were just about to yell at me for leaving Jiji alone…” Khushi accused.

“Haan, but I like your tactic. You yelled at me so much that I forgot what I had to say Nandkisore!” She grinned as Khushi pouted.

“But maybe I shouldn’t have left Jiji alone, she was sounding so off on the phone!”

“But Titaliya, Payaliya needs to learn how to be a part of the society.” Madhumati advised.

“But-”

“No buts! Now let me speak Nandkisore! See, she knew Akash babua comes from a different world. And Akash babua knows ours, so she needs to know his. And knowing you, you wouldn’t have just accompanied Payaliya like a good girl because what is Titaliya without dramatics? Toh accha hua that you didn’t go with her. Akash babua is there with her na.” Madhumati patted her shoulder.

Khushi nodded and switched on the television. Perhaps Buaji was right. But the fear sat in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t want Jiji to be in a space where no one else was like her.

Hey Devi Maiyya, let this be a wonderful party for Jiji!

– – –

It was the most intimidating experience of Payal’s life. The cold drink had gone warm in her hands, and Akash’s palm had long slipped out of hers. She knew she made a mistake the minute she stepped in because no one wore a saree.

The hair piece felt too glittery and she was sure her kajal was too thick.

No one in the party spoke in Hindi. And to make it worse, she was sure everyone checked out her embellished saree at least once.

“Payal ji, are you ok?” Akash returned back to her, and like a balm soothed all her worries. But maybe it was love? For when she reassured him and he left to get another drink, the crowd left her cold.

So far any attempt at getting food was embarrassing. Her appetiser had slipped off the toothpick once and she didn’t realise entree didn’t mean starters. It meant main dish. And while she understood English perfectly well, the embarrassment of mispronouncing Givenchy was enough.

Akash had smoothed things, chuckling how every fashion brand had one motto - to give the weirdest spellings to trick consumers - but it did nothing to quell her discomfort. Half of the conversations around her were a blurred paragraph of ‘fashion, business’ where she had little to contribute.

Even friendly comments like “Oh you’ve never been to France? Well it’s good you married a Raizada! Akash, make sure to take her to Paris!”

She didn’t marry him for the money.

And the worst is she didn’t have an answer for what she did. She was just… home. Cooking, cleaning, assisting Buaji. When the main dish - entrees - arrived, she was the only one not using chopsticks on the table.

That’s when a morsel in her mouth felt unfamiliar.

It was meat.

She reached for water but spat at the fizziness.

The whole party’s attention fell straight on her. Akash immediately went up to her as Payal coughed up the sparkling water. Arnav rushed up with some extra tissues, and Payal looked around, tearing up in embarrassment. NK offered some water, sympathetic to her now drenched saree.

“It’s ok Payal ji,” Akash began but Payal ran away to the bathroom, leaving the crowd in silent hushes.

That’s when Arnav knew, he screwed up.

– – –

‘Laad Governor’

Khushi rolled her eyes at her phone. So now he had the audacity to call her? Right in between watching Govinda rock Katrina’s party. Perhaps that’s exactly what Jiji was doing! Her quiet elegant aura would captivate people.

Madhumati tapped her fingers to Soni De Nakhre, Titaliya was right. Ordering food from outside for one night did feel like a girls’ day out. She had forgotten when it was the last time eating Chinese food in front of the telly.

Khushi’s phone buzzed again.

“Ugh, I now get why you’re frustrated with that man!” Madhumati grumbled and Khushi gave her a high five. Probably Akash ji had the sense to admonish Arnav for not inviting Khushi.

Or as Buaji had just told her the way Jiji had put the Laad Governor in his place, she might’ve yelled at him for not calling her darling sister. Good!

“Tell me, finally you realised you should’ve invited me to party haina? As if Khushi ke bina-”

Madhumati watched Khushi freeze, every joy stripped out of her face.

In a flash Khushi grabbed her wallet and ran out - uncaring of her dupatta or rubber sandals.

“Aye Titaliya!” Madhumati hollered.

“Jiji needs me.” Khushi shot back, hailing an autorickshaw.

– – –

Arnav, NK and Akash waited by the bathroom door. Payal’s muffled sobs were barely audible. She hadn’t responded to Akash or NK’s requests. The sneer behind ‘huh opposites do attract’ was evident. All attention had been on the new Raizada member that couldn’t pronounce brands, wore garish colours, fumbled with chopsticks and couldn’t stomach sparkling water.

Arnav’s glare had kept them silent, but it didn’t remove the judgement from their eyes.

“Khushi ji, thank God you’re here.” NK escorted Khushi who ran in her pajamas, hair askew, “Where’s Jiji Nanhe ji?” Khushi asked, frantically looking around for her sister. A look at the party and her heart sank. Everything was so foreign.

“Khushi, Payal is in-” Arnav pointed Khushi to the bathroom.

“I don’t remember asking you,” Khushi snapped, her eyes wild in anger. The audacity of that man. Arnav glowered back - he was trying to help, damn it! He knew things didn’t turn out as he had expected but this was unanticipated.

Khushi banged on the bathroom door, “Jiji, it’s me.”

Payal cracked the bathroom door open and braved a smile, “Khushi… you didn’t have to come. Oh no… did you come here in your pajamas? What will everyone-” Khushi engulfed Payal in a hug. Payal broke down, the warmth of Khushi’s hug finally making her feel safe, at home.

NK headed to the party, doing damage control and sending the guests back home with his classic, cheerful grin. Akash shuffled on his feet, unsure how to manage the situation.

“Payal, don’t worry. It’s not a big deal-” Khushi broke the hug at Arnav’s attempt to reassure her sister. She looked dead into Arnav’s eyes and he balked at the anger simmering in her look.

“Payal ji, if you don’t mind can we speak?” Akash asked. Payal nodded.

“Yes, please talk to her, Akash ji. My family and I very happily gave Jiji to you under very different expectations. I can understand all this happening when he-” Khushi pointed to Arnav, “- is here. Because he doesn’t see beyond himself or his world.” Arnav seethed at the insult. How dare she? Would she even care to listen to him?

“But you? Are you just like your brother? But… better mannered?” Khushi asked, her voice cracking at the end. Perhaps Arnav was the best in the family. He was the only Raizada who actually showed her what the Raizadas were. For all of Nani ji’s politeness, she could barely acknowledge her own daughter in law only because she was middle class. And although Anjali ji was extremely kind, she didn’t hesitate using the contract and money against Khushi when it was necessary in her terms.

And here was Akash, the man Payal loved.

Despite him, Payal was lonely in a crowd.

Akash, unlike his brother, heard her accusations that Khushi said and didn’t say, in a quiet acceptance.

“Khushi, you’re taking this too far.” Arnav warned her. He too understood what Khushi insinuated.

“She isn’t Bhai.” Akash cut in, “You’d do much more for much less.” Khushi calmed as Akash stepped in her defence. Arnav frowned at the open defiance but had nothing to reply when all Akash said was truth. Perhaps unlike his brother, Akash was more perceptive.

“Payal ji, may I?” Akash held out his hand, escorting Payal to a private area, away from the argument that was bound to happen. Khushi ushered Payal and turned to look at Arnav.

“Not a big deal Mr. Raizada?” Khushi snapped, not giving Arnav a chance to speak. Arnav closed his eyes and willed himself to calm down. Akash was right. Arnav had been much worse for much less.

“Khushi, I understand why you’re angry but trust me this isn’t a big deal.” Arnav said slowly, taking a step towards Khushi, offering peace.

“Nothing ever is, is it Arnav ji?” Khushi laughed, shaking her head at his incredulity.

“Khushi,” Arnav began but Khushi raised her hand, her laughter dead into a silent tight lipped smile.

“Jiji’s embarrassment is not a big deal. Me regularly being overworked at your home for the same amount of salary is not a big deal. Your office making fun of me is not a big deal. Dropping me off a floor is not a big deal. Releasing my photos in the news is not a big deal then what in the world is a big deal for you Arnav Singh Raizada?!” Khushi yelled.

“Khushi, I didn’t mean that.” Arnav said.

“Mean what Mr. Raizada? And I don’t care about what you meant or not or what is a big deal for you or not. I begged you, pleaded you that please make this party comfortable for her. You have no idea what it is to be in a place where no one dresses like you. Where everyone speaks a foreign language that’s hard to pick up. Where you can hear people snickering but nobody says anything to your face. Where there’s no food nearby that you can eat and feel comfortable.” Khushi stopped, her eyes welling up at the memory of her being bullied at AR. Arnav’s face fell. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Khushi no longer was speaking about Payal.

“Khushi, I’m…” Arnav broke off, the apology stuck at his throat for it didn’t feel enough. Khushi rolled her eyes at his inability to verablise the words. Arnav cursed himself, for not even doing the bare minimum.

“Anyway, why isn’t Anjali Ji here?” Khushi asked.

“Di wouldn’t be comfortable here so-” Arnav broke off, understanding dawning on him. He could understand his sister’s comfort, but not his sister-in-law’s? In his spite to override Khushi and show off what he could provide at the snap of his fingers, he removed the one thing her family truly depended on and trusted him for.

Reassurance.

He was the only thread of reassurance for this marriage and today he alienated the new member of his household out of spite. Even if it was unintentional. Khushi chuckled mirthlessly, for Arnav wasn’t as daft to the situation as she thought.

He knows what comfort is, but was too spiteful to act on it.

But perhaps she had flamed it as well. If she had truly told him about his sister perhaps things would have been better. Yet she was busy fanning her pride over the matter, making it all about herself when it was about her sister.

“Arnav ji, I know you don’t respect me and never will. I also know you’re capable of making apologies when necessary and affording my family the respect they deserve. So that means I’m the problem. And I promise I won’t get in your way, visit your house or even get involved in your family’s end of the rituals if it ensures the happiness for my sister. My childishness, our anger, nothing matters. Just keep her happy, that’s it. It’s the only thing I’m trusting you with. It’s the only thing I’m begging you for.” Khushi promised, tears rolling down her cheeks.

From now on Khushi would hold herself back if it meant Payal could live happily in the new household. It was a clear reminder that her actions would have repercussions in Payal’s marriage. This disastrous party was just a petty example.

Arnav tried to hold Khushi, his own pettiness shaming him. He didn’t mean this. He didn’t need her to beg for her sister’s happiness. Goddamnit he didn’t want their anger to affect Payal and Akash’s nascent relationship.

Khushi turned away and left, leaving Arnav’s hand to stop her in the air, regret painted all across his face. When NK jogged up to Khushi it became clear as day to Arnav that it was jealousy.

And fear.

With his jealousy satiated by throwing a party that NK couldn’t even imagine, his fear came true. Khushi didn’t need another man for him to lose her. He simply never had her in the first place.

– – –

Khushi’s heart filled with joy as she watched a happier Payal return with Akash coat around her shoulders. The air was indeed chilly. Payal gave her a reassuring smile and Akash gave her a soft, apologetic one.

“I am sorry saali saheba. But the next time I disappoint you please throw one of your jalebis or the one liners you give to Bhai. Your anger truly frightens me.” Akash gently held his ears, leading the sisters to laugh.

“So you mean there will be a next time?” Khushi faked anger and Akash flustered, “Nahi! I mean if in case but that doesn’t mean it will happen again!”

Payal twisted Khushi’s ear, warning her against teasing Akash too much.

“Oho Khushi ji, leave Akash alone. He already deals with Daanav” Khushi’s eyes went wide as NK corrected himself, “I mean Naanav.” Akash rolled his eyes.

“Payal,” Everyone stopped smiling as Arnav came into view. Perhaps NK wasn’t mistaken to call Arnav a ‘daanav’, Khushi thought. Arnav strode towards Payal with purpose and instinctively Khushi came in his way.

Arnav looked at Khushi for a moment, the lack of trust evident in her eyes. He released a sigh and side stepped her. Khushi guffawed at the audacity.

“Can I speak to you in private?”

– – –

“It’s ok, you don’t have to apologise.” Payal dismissed Arnav as they reached the hall.

“As the host of the party it was my responsibility to ensure your comfort. I didn’t.” Arnav said, unable to look at her in the eyes, “Also as your brother in law I should’ve looked after you. I didn’t.”

“It was just not my day, I’ll adjust better in the future.” Payal assured him.

“You shouldn’t have to. If you don’t enjoy this environment then that’s it. None of us question why Di won’t be comfortable here, there’s no reason why anyone should raise eyebrows at why you don’t like these parties either.” Arnav told her.

“Arnav ji-”

“Bhai,”

“What?” Payal asked, surprised.

“That’s what I am, right?” Arnav shrugged. Wasn’t it customary that the relationship Akash have in this family be transferred to Payal as well? Payal’s hesitation meant only one thing - nobody in the family gave her the feeling that she is a part of the family.

“Bhai…” Payal tested the word, feeling strange to call this man as her brother. Arnav nodded, the word giving him the knock of responsibility he should’ve adopted long ago.

“From today you’re no different to me than Akash or Di. There should never be a reason why you’re crying. And if you are crying, there shouldn’t be a reason why you won’t tell me why, ok?” Payal laughed as Arnav attempted to comfort her.

“Try adding a smile to everything you just said.” Payal requested, desperately trying to keep her laughter in check.

“What?”

“Ar-Bhai, you look like you’re giving orders instead of being kind.” Payal grinned. Arnav looked away, flustered. Was his generic mode to always give orders?

“In all the tales she’s told of you, I see why she calls you a Lord Governor.” Arnav frowned, Khushi told stories of him? And is that why she ended up with the moniker Laad Governor? A small smile lit his face. He caught himself and extended a hand to Payal who cautiously shook.

“I’m serious Bhabhi,” Payal looked up, surprised at him calling her that, “you genuinely don’t have to worry. From now on, your family is mine.” Arnav promised.

“You don’t have to take so many responsibilities. My sister is more than capable of handling my family.” Payal beamed in pride. Khushi had taken everything on her shoulders with strengths even the elders didn’t have. Her smile fell as the worry of Shyam bugged her. Arnav, Akash and the whole family deserved the truth.

“What happened?” Arnav asked.

“Nothing, and anyway, thank you.” Payal smiled on her way out. Arnav shrugged.

NK joked that Payal was alive after Arnav interrogated her and Akash smacked him on the head. Arnav shook his head at the interaction and frowned. Khushi was nowhere to be found. His shoulders felt heavy with the new set of responsibilities. Guilt and fear sat in the pit of stomach. He knew that he and Akash were more than capable of looking after the Guptas, but it was true that he was the root source of most of their problems.

How would he solve everything? Khushi wouldn’t hesitate to actually beating him up if he so much so offered a cent to her.

He ran his hand through his hair, the Gupta family’s issues forming a new checklist in his head next to Mami’s wish for new jewelries and Nani’s desire to bring in a family priest from Lucknow. That’s when the air changed and Arnav looked up, searching for Khushi.

He found her by the hall door, stunned.

She had overheard everything.

– – –

Arnav and Khushi returned to their old bickering without a hint of the kindness of his promise to Payal or bitterness of the argument lingering.

Except one thing changed, neither Arnav nor Akash left either of the sisters to be lonely ever again.

Be it in front of their own family when Mami questioned the value of a steel plate.

Or on stage when Khushi stood without a dance partner.

– – –

The end! I hope you liked this one shot 😊

#ipkknd #iss pyaar ko kya naam doon #ipkknd ff #One shot #lonely in a crowd #Jalebi writes

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tsukiyadori · 9 months

Text

The Case Files of Jeweler Richard: "Tsuki no Hikari" (Clair de Lune) Web Short Story Translation

I just read the short on Nanako Tsujimura's website here that was posted in May 2023. It's called つきのひかり which directly translates to "moonlight".

And just felt compelled to make a translation immediately, because it's just such a beautiful little piece.

Timeline-wise, it's probably set somewhen after volume 10 and before volume 11.

Suggested accompanied reading prior to it is the Extra Case "Moonstone's Affection". It's included in Seven Sea's English translation of volume 4. In Japanese it can be found in the ebook version of volume 4. (In print, it appears to have been in a booklet extra handed out as shop-exclusives.)

Moonstone is all about hilariously playing the classic line "The moon is beautiful" by Natsume Souseki, something that by now is so worn out it's probably as well as become a cliché already. Moonstone has Richard giving lectures criticizing how the line gets wholly divorced from its original context and sentiment, as well as giving ab abstract roundabout what it was supposed to be about. A feeling, a peaceful mood, he says, but there isn't so much elaboration on it rather than just implication yet.

I'm kind of shocked I didn't expect it to get back to it and with what's effectively an illustrious applied example essay in prose on the subject while at it, when the whole series is all about nuanced takes on variants and expressions of "love" and beauties already. But here we are.

I tried to imitate the translation style of the official English translation.

Clair de Lune

I was sleeping amidst flowers.

When I woke up, I confusedly wondered what happened. Flowers were blooming above my head. Flowers painted in a faint colour between red and orange. Probably red puppies. It was a completely different scenery from napping on my bed or the sofa. The sky expanded itself above the flowers. It was clearly outdoors.

And.

"Good Morning."

Richard.

The sky, the flowers and Richard.

While I was thinking that something about this was rather poetic, I bewilderedly rubbed my eyes. When I raised myself, leaves fell from my head.

A garden and a pond. An arched bridge. Ah.

"This is… Henry's new residence."

"Correct."

"It feels so impressionistic, erm, this is…"

"Giverny"

"…so that means France"

"Oui"

Right, Richard answered. Reality caught up as the details gradually came back.

I and Richard, we came to Europe a week ago in order to participate in a mineral show in Munich. Munich is in Germany. That was seven days ago. Afterwards I met Shimomura who was on a little trip to Austria and learned about Henry's new residence. Somehow he bought a new real estate and restored an old building and how about we dropped by. Somehow it was amazing, somehow it left a deep impression. Somehow a lot of somehow impressions. That was five days ago. After that I joined Richard again – of course bringing a Sachertorte with me – and we headed towards our business in France. It was just a small trip by air. That was four days ago. By Japanese standards, it cost only a domestic travel fare to get from Vienna to Marseille. Somehow I wound up making Bouillabaisse at a regular customer's place, three days ago. And two days ago we got a message from Henry.

He contacted us, because we were apparently nearby, asking us if we wouldn't come over to his new residence.

Richard was a bit perplexed, but honestly I was already in Europe Mode – basically the mindset about travelling through countries in an absurd speed. It usually felt like this on the continent – it was a sort of let's go somewhere!-tension. We've even talked about taking two days off and watch some soccer or such. But honestly, I and Richard, we were a bit tired. We didn't have the spirits to watch soccer and drink beer with cheers. Our physical stamina was doubtful to last as well. To do such a thing after working a week every consecutive day, it'd be difficult unless you were in your teens or your early twenties. We have both passed that age bracket already.

That being said, the place we've been invited to, had its own set of issues. Giverny. It's somewhat in the neighbourhood of Paris. By plane, it would be just a hop away, but from Marseille it's a five hours distance with the train. Of course, it was in the same country as Marseille but, somehow, like this, the place didn't exactly feel close. It seemed about as exhausting as the soccer watching plan.

But Richard said he wanted to go.

Prefixed with a reserved 'if that was all right'.

If that was the case, things were clear for me.

Let's go. I also want to go.

And that's what we did.

We rented a car at the airport and headed towards Giverny. Right upon arriving, a bunch of security staff looking people clad in black came for us and guided us with their black car.

The place they brought us to was a house surrounded with a garden and pond and looked straight out of a fairy tale. Flowers in all sorts of colours bloomed in abundance, boats floated above the deep pond and a gracefully arched bridge hung above it. However, this version of Seigi Nakata, who recently made strides in becoming more sophisticated, understood. It was a masterpiece of impressionism, this was a residence built with the concept of Monet's paintings in mind.

Henry showed up looking like Snufkin coming out of a Moomin house – a security staff personnel was behind him like a matter of course – and welcomed us with a smile. Piano suit him, but at that moment I learned that an apron suit him as well. Not an apron for painting, but the sort for cooking. With a light brown one hanging down his head, he looked like an ordinary, a bit too skinny man.

"Recently I've been doing all sorts of things. Working, pastimes. This place is for recreation. It's very good for a change of pace."

'Work' meant the Claremont family business, an 'insurance company for an insurance company', as well as several finance-related businesses, apparently. Jeffrey handled them until now, but lining up with his vacations, Henry took them over. Richard and I were mostly kept in the dark about it, but achievements of big companies could be checked on in the daily internet and from the looks of that, they were doing pretty well. And in order for continuously doing well in any sort of work, you needed to take a breather or get a change of pace from time to time.

For this purpose this place here in France was established.

Indeed, it seemed like a very good place for a change of pace.

Henry showed up this hyper gorgeous summer house – it had a combined kitchen and dining room, as well as a reception room with a grand piano in it, a jet spa bath, a huge cabin filled with supplies neighbouring an enormous garage and all kinds of other things – he personally treated us to nice fragranced tea as well as some not wholly uniformly shaped cookies he had just baked himself. It was a perfect reception and everything tasted very well.

That's why it was a little bit exhausting.

Henry was nervous throughout the whole reception. He was his usual self. You don't have to be all that nervous, Enrique is what Shimomura would always pester on about, but that was his special privilege. Neither I nor Richard had this sort of skill.

In the end, all three of us got tired in their own way.

Henry withdrew himself to the studio to be alone for a bit, Richard departed with the car to get some snacks for the evening and I…

I said I'd take another stroll around the garden.

I was looking down at the pond from the bushes on the loosely slanted slope.

I doozed off a bit.

It was early summer. When I looked at my wristwatch it was 3pm. I probably doozed off about 30 minutes at most. It was fine now with the sun all up, but if I doozed off until evening, I would certainly have caught a cold.

"… Thanks for waking me…. Uwah, there is dirt on my shirt."

"Fortunately, it's a washable shirt."

I laughed a haha. True, if it was a dress shirt, it would have been a tragedy. That's why I only wore such wear on special occasions, like being invited to some lakeside castle party. Sometimes there are such times through.

While I rubbed my eyes, Richard looked intensely at the garden. Or at the pink and yellow flowers behind my back. Or at me. Then he suddenly started talking.

"I understand a little bit how artists feel."

"Artists?… You mean impressionist ones?"

"There is no denying that your shape with flowers nestling around you is wealthy with elegance."

"Easy mode please."

"I somehow just got the feeling of wanting to draw a picture."

"… of me?"

"Of what else?"

How weird. The owner of features that millions of artists would want to paint was, somehow, saying he felt like drawing a picture of me.

But it also made me happy.

When I playfully tried to pose as Mona Lisa, Richard sighed and politely corrected me that that was from Da Vinci. Then he started a brief commentary over Monet, the master of impressionism. Listening to it in this garden that seemed like out of a painting of his, was enjoyable and beautiful, sometimes wistfully so.

Henry, Richard and I, we enjoyed a great number of France's famous items from the supermarket and small dishes à la carte. Pâté de Campagne or cheese were the apéritif. Riding a Japanese food boom wave of recent, even Kinpira burdock was available in square packages. There was sushi as well, but Richard, who was used to Ginza's sushi in Japan, didn't seem to itch for it. Henry made a bit of a disappointed face, as salmon rolls were a secret favourite of his.

After dinner Henry played the piano for us.

France's impressionism wasn't just limited to paintings. In music there are also various artists summed up under the genre. Debussy, who is famous even in Japan, is one of them.

What he played was "Clair de Lune".

It was music filled with peace and beauty.

Outside the window, a half moon was floating about. It was reflected in the pond, and flickered as if it was drawing the picturesque design of a mosaic of light.

I wondered if that was the 'impression' that artists remembered.

Not the real moon, but something like the shadow of the moon. Something that tingled your imagination, something that allowed for an in-between.

Like how I would associate the moon or ocean to Richard's beauty whenever I remembered it.

If that was the case, I felt like I understood a bit of what Richard had called 'elegance'.

It meant to 'love' something very much.

Very much.

The sounds of the piano carried on. Tomorrow's plane would depart at noon, but we had to return to Paris and return the rental car. It was about time to go to sleep. But I wanted to stay up a bit more. I wanted to look at the shadow of the moon.

The flickering golden light somehow resembled Richard's voice, when he was right by side when I woke up.

_________________________________________________________

(TL Time 116min+40m QC/formatting)

#light novel #novel #translation #english translation #the case files of jeweler richard #housekishou richard shi no nazo kantei #tsujimura nanako

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warrioreowynofrohan · 10 months

Note

For the Choose Violence ask game: 22 for any of Tolkien's Middle Earth works? (Histories of Middle Earth included.)

Two asks for this one!

@nopewood: 22 for the ask game pleaseee ^^

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

It's not entirely ignored, but the poetic Leithian deserves way higher profile than it has! It's absolutely magnificent as poetry and also elaborates a lot more of the events of Beren and Lúthien's Quest than the text of the Silmarillion does (for example: the spell Lúthien uses to grow her hair is incredibly complex, cool, and rather spooky).

Another part that I really like that almost everyone ignores is "The Coming of Tuor to Gondolin" in Unfinished Tales. I love the characterization that we get of Tuor during his time as a outlaw and his journey to Nevrast and thence to Gondolin - he, well 'chill' compared to the other Edain we get, but he's not entirely chill and it's really not sufficiently recognized that he waged a single-handed guerilla war in Hithlum for about three years when he was little more than a teenager.

A specific bit of that that I like and that no one else seems (understandably!) to care about is the description of the gates of Gondolin. I love it. The imagery of the different materials, colours, the structure, the designs and what they symbolize/convey. And we're also told that the Elves created a lot of magnificent things, but they're rarely described in detail, and we get such great descriptions here.

Gates!

Thus they came at length to a wide art with tall pillars upon either hand, hewn in the rock, and between hung a great portcullis of crossed wooden bars, marvellously carved and studded with nails of iron. Elemmakil touched it, and it rose silently, and they passed through. "You have passed the First Gate, the Gate of Wood," said Elemmakil. ...Some half-league from the Wooden Gate Tuor saw that the way was barred by a great wall built across the ravine form side to side, with stout towers of stone at either hand. In the wall was a great archway above the road, but it seemed that masons has blocked it with a single mighty stone. As they drew near its dark and polished face gleamed in the light of a white lamp that hung above the midst of the arch. "Here stands the Second Gate, the Gate of Stone," said Elemmakil; and going up to it he thrust lightly upon it. It turned upon an unseen pivot, until its edge was towards them, and the way was open upon either side; and they passed through, into a court where stood many armed guards clad in grey. ...After a little space they came to a wall yet higher and stronger than before, and in it was set the Third Gate, the Gate of Bronze: a great twofold door hung with shields and plates of bronze, wherein were wrought many figures and strange signs. Upon the wall above its lintel were three square towers, roofed and clad with copper that by some device of smith-craft were ever bright and gleamed as fire in the rays of the red lamps ranged like torches against the wall. Again silently they passed the gate, and saw in the court beyond a yet greater company of guards in mail that glowed like dull fire; and the blades of their axes were red. Of the kindred of the Sindar of Nevrast for the most part were those that held this gate. [NOTE: Another reference to the Sindar using axes as their main weapon, something that I almost never see in fic.] ....Thus at last they drew near the Fourth Gate, the Gate of Writhen Iron. High and black was the wall, and lit with no lamps. Four towers of iron stood upon it, and between the two inner towers was set an image of a great eagle wrought in iron, even the likeness of King Thorondor himself, as he would alight upon a mountain from the high airs. But as Tuor stood before the gate it seemed to his wonder that he was looking through boughs and stems of imperishable trees into a pale glade of the Moon. For a light came through the traceries of the gate, which were wrought and hammered into the shapes of trees with writhing roots and woven branches laden with leaves and flowers and as he passed through he saw how this could be; for the wall was of great thickness, and there was not one grill but three in line, so that to one who approached in the middle of the way each formed part of the device; but the light beyond was the light of day...Now they passed through the lines of the Iron Guards that stood behind the Gate; black were their mantles and their mail and long shields, and their faces were masked with vizors each bearing an eagle's beak.

What the Fourth Gate reminds me of at the moment is Menegroth - trees carved in iron, as Menegroth is trees and birds and other animals wrought in stone, the combination of the love of nature with the love of craft through the work of two different peoples. And the sequence - the different materials (wood, stone, bronze, iron), the number of towers matching the number of the gates, the guards outfitted in a way that matches the gates - really appeals to me. The connection of Gondolin both with Ulmo, who showed Turgon the location and concealed his people so they could get here, and with Manwë via Thorondor (who is really Turgon's link to the outside world, and brings him news on more than one occasion) is just fantastic.

Then we have the gates of Silver and Gold:

Tuor saw beside the way a sward of grass, where like stars bloomed the white flowers of uilos, the Evermind that knows no season and withers not; and thus in wonder and lightening of heart he was brought to the Gate of Silver. The wall of the Fifth Gate was built of white marble, and was low and broad, and its parapet was a trellis of silver between five great globes of marble; and there stood many archers robed in white. The gate was in shape as three parts of a circle, and wrought of silver and pearl of Nevrast in likenesses of the Moon; but above the Gate upon the midmost globe stood an image of the White Tree Telperion, wrought of silver and malachite, with flowers made of great pearls of Balar. And beyond the Gate in a wide court paved with marble, green and white, stood archers in silver mail and white-crested helms, a hundred upon either hand. Then Elemmakil led Tuor and Voronwë through their silent ranks, and they entered upon a long white road, that ran straight towards the Sixth Gate; and as they went the grass-sward became wider, and among the white stars of uilos there opened many small flowers like eyes of gold. So they came to the Golden Gate, the last of the ancient gates of Turgon that were wrought before the Nirnaeth; and it was much like the Gate of Silver, save that the wall was built of yellow marble, and the globes and parapets were of red gold; and there were six globes, and in the midst upon a golden pyramid was set an image of Laurelin, the Tree of the Sun, with flowers wrought of topaz in long clusters upon chains of gold. And the Gate itself was adorned with discs of gold, many-rayed, in likenesses of the Sun, set amid devices of garnet and topaz and yellow diamonds. In the court beyond were arrayed three hundred archers with long bows, and their mail was gilded, and tall golden plumes rose from their helmets; and their great round shields were red as flame.

As I reread this...I had thought before of Gondolin, the image of Tirion in Valinor, being a symbol/indication of Turgon's inability to let go of his homesickness, and the images of the Trees being connected to that. But it doesn't feel like that now - it feels like a fusion, of the past in Valinor (the two Trees) and present in Beleriand (the Moon and Sun, and also the pearls of Nevrast and Balar; the latter indicate that Turgon must also have had a close relationship with Cirdan and the Falathrim) - and by the way, how did Turgon realize the connection between the Trees and the moon and sun, when as far as the Noldor know the Trees were entirely dead? It's an impressive connection to work out by himself.

These gates - and their matching flowers, which is an amazing touch - are more decorative and less military than the others, as though, having passed the gate of iron, the focus is now more on beauty rather than defence. And then we're slapped in the face with this:

The way was short to the Seven Gate, named the Great, the Gate of Steel that Maeglin wrought after the return from the Nirnaeth, across the wide entrance to the Orfalch Echor. No wall stood there, but on either hand were two round towers of great height, many-windowed, tapering in seven storeys to a turret of bright steel, and between the towers there stood a mighty fence of steel that rusted not, but glittered cold and white. Seven great pillars of steel there were, tall with the height and girth of strong young trees, but ending in a bitter spike that rose to the sharpness of a needle; and between the pillars were seven cross-bars of steel, and in each space seven times seven rods of steel upright, with heads like the broad blades of spears. But in the centre, upon the midmost pillar and the greatest, was raised a mighty image of the king-helm of Turgon, the Crown of the Hidden Kingdom, set about with diamonds.

This is grim and forbidding and hostile after the Gates of Silver and Gold - like passing from an intricately carved gate of a garden to a fence of razor wire. It's the only gate that Elemmakil can't open for them, and there's no elegant way to knock - you just have to bang on the bars. The pillars of steel might be the size of young trees, but they aren't carved to look like trees or anything else - they're just spikes. The other gates had images of nature, and sometimes of the world outside; this gate is hostile to the world outside.

And, after the three previous gates with Thorondor followed by the images of the creations of Valar - the Trees and the Moon and Sun - we have an image of Turgon's crown on this one.

This is a very clear warning to the reader - something is wrong in Gondolin. Turgon has grown proud and shut out the outside world, and is putting himself and his desires as of the foremost importance. This Gate tells us what Turgon's answer to Tuor's message from Ulmo will be even before Tuor delivers us. And the statement that Maeglin made this gate shows him symbolically as an influence upon this change of attitude in Turgon. Everything about this gate foreshadows the fall of Gondolin.

Thank you for indulging me on this super long post! Look, I just really enjoy imagery and patterns!

#tolkien #the silmarillion #unfinished tales #gondolin #the fall of gondolin #turgon #the lays of beleriand #history of middle-earth #beren and luthien #ask game

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