We had the most egregiously evil little pony horse when I was growing up. I know everyone says that. Ponies are one of the animals that truly understand how to commit crimes but she was really deeply atrocious. One time she tried to murder me. Her name was Fancy.
I feel I should slightly explain here. See, my parents bought two acres with a house and a barn and pasturage and went “We’re farmers now!” They had absolutely no idea what they were doing. And at a certain point along that journey my mom got her hands on a horse. Technically she was half pony half horse so she was this weird middle size.
Fancy belonged to a friend of hers and he showed her how to saddle Fancy. And that was it. That was all we knew about this horse. So my mom brings her home and saddles her and we decide to go for a ride on this new creature in our lives. But Fancy, being the savvy bitch she was, was far too canny for our dumb asses.
Her maiden ride went to my older brother and ended rather abruptly when the saddle slid completely sideways and my brother toppled off her, miraculously unharmed but unwilling to ever try again. This made me like Fancy somewhat, because I hated my brother.
Those familiar with horse trickery would have caught her ruse but Fancy had deliberately held her breath to make the saddle seem tight enough. But in stride she let the breath out, the saddle loosened, and my brother came toppling down. She planned that fuckup.
I was a bit more game, being a dedicated horse girl. I wanted to succeed where my loathsome brother had failed. Keep in mind: none of us had ever ridden. We had no idea what we were doing, and in the only defense I’ll ever make of that hoofed demon it was probably not pleasant to have a human flopping on her back like a sack of potatoes. But I paraded around in a circle until she scraped my leg against a fence post. I lasted longer than my brother but had to admit riding an animal radiating malice at you is not comfortable.
We didn’t really ride Fancy much after that. She was a decorative aspect to the fields. Sometimes I’d sit on her bare back while she was eating. Every so often she’d buck me off for assuming familiarity with her.
But Fany's coup de grâce took several months. Most of the pasturage had electric fence running along it to keep the livestock from testing the fences or getting a taste for freedom. My parents were constantly moving fence posts and reallocating land to different purposes which is how one of the major gates ended up with electric fence running over top. During a move the wire got left up from the last border and now it was strung over what should have been an open passage.
I was taking a ride on Fancy, living in a fantasy that I had any idea what I was doing. My mom was out working in the yard, and as she passed through she left the gate open, forgetting the wire hazard. You know who didn't forget?
Fancy.
She beelined for the open gate and I realized a second too late what her plan was. I hauled back on the reins with all my strength but she powered through, charging at the wire. If I'd caught on sooner I could have tipped forward and probably cleared it.
It was roughly chest height. But she was too savvy, keeping a slow pace right up until the passage, and I didn't have time to react. The thought of getting electrocuted sent me down into a terrified backward limbo, desperately trying to flatten myself along her back.
It almost worked. But instead the wire caught under my chin, pressing back into my neck like a garrote. The only good news was that the wire wasn't live, but I was still in terrible danger. I squealed and wiggled and managed to twist my neck enough that the wire scraped over my face instead of pressing deeper. Once we were through Fancy stopped and turned to regard me, disappointed that her assassination had failed. My neck was bleeding but my head remained attached.
My mother was absolutely terrified and I was pretty shaken myself. We unsaddled Fancy for the last time, as full on murder was a bit more than I was willing to bear for the sake of pretending to be a fantasy hero on an epic journey. My neck still has a faint scar from her homicidal tendencies.
Fancy got to remain a decorative horse for many years after that, free of our attempts to ride her. Her last torment was when my mother decided to try to breed her to achieve an animal that was less interested in murder.
But Fancy, true to form, brutally attacked the stallion sent to service her, even when hopped up on horny hormones. There would be no foals from Fancy, and her saga ended when we sold her to another unlucky soul.
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also not a request, im writing what i want to read at the moment, it seems! The lowdown: there’s angst, sex and romance, all Lannister style. He growls. You’re welcome. Very reader focussed, but about a third of it is Tywin’s pov. Possessive, protective husband vibes. Again, you’re welcome. He’s Hand to Joffrey (gag) so it’s set post Robert’s death, but canon? We don’t know her. Also, can we agree Genna is the sister in law we all need?
Coming in at a whopping 8,112 words
In Time, the Lion Loves
Tywin Lannister x fem!Reader
It was a purely political marriage, one that occurred a mere fortnight after your meeting Lord Lannister of Casterly Rock in King’s Landing. He had been taciturn and serious bordering on standoffish most of the time. You were embarrassed that your father had all but forced his hand, what with Lannisters paying their debts and all. And saving Jaime Lannister from the Starks and returning him home when Lord Lannister couldn’t? It was a debt large enough to warrant a hopeless, trustless marriage between you and he.
“Let’s retire,” he said from beside you at your wedding feast, an ostentatious event organised by the Boy King Joffrey and his mother. He’d been unexpectedly amicable, in the way lord husbands were supposed to be with their wives. He’d let you sip from his wine goblet and had given you first pick of the plate you both shared. You enjoyed the roast pheasant while he preferred beef.
“Time for the bedding ceremony!” the King announced, face flushed terribly from the wine he’d indulged in, and green eyes sparking with malice. The King had always looked at you as though he might pounce, and tonight of all nights, you had to rein in your fear of him. As soon as men rose and began tugging at your beautiful gown, they stopped.
Lord Lannister had slammed his hand on the table, the boom echoing throughout the hall the feast was being held.
“No man but I shall touch my wife. Get off her,” he growled. The men around you couldn’t flee fast enough. Then neutral green eyes settled on you, readjusting your sleeves that had come down your shoulder some in the tugging and offering you his hand to escort you from the hall.
He poured you more wine once in the Tower of the Hand, but you did not move to drink it. You had let go of your fear of this man in particular, especially as he’d kept you close to him all evening, and had gently seated you beside him at the feast. It could certainly be a ruse, one to make him seem the perfect Lord even in a marriage he had not chosen.
“Stop thinking so much, you’ll make yourself dizzy.”
“I was thinking how much I appreciate your manner, my Lord. It would not have surprised me if you were a cruel man in private, though I am beginning to see there isn’t any needless cruelty in your body.”
He looked at you then, watching as you took a single, gracious sip from your cup, before turning and looking at him too. You were beautiful, this he knew. He was a widower, not blind, and he had appreciated privately any particular woman of exceeding beauty. But he’d always been a jealous and possessive type of man, and you were almost made more beautiful by the fact you were his alone. His wife. He’d need to get used to that again.
“You will bear me sons, and manage the Rock should we return. It would not do to sully our alliance so soon.”
“Of course, my Lord.”
“Are you nervous, Lady Wife?”
“No, my Lord. I snuck off to a brothel before we travelled to King’s Landing and had a whore explain to me the truth of a marriage bed.”
Already he felt a flare of possessiveness take him. The thought of you in any brothel made him twitch. Had any men seen you? Had anyone touched you? He found the thought entirely unacceptable, and was sure to say so.
“I knew I’d be married shortly after my arrival here, my Lord. I did not want to be uninformed, and septas take a vow of chastity. How could they give me an objective insight into married relations?”
“While it is an admirable quality to seek out your own answers,” he said, walking over to you and looking down as you sat opposite his desk. “You will not set foot in an establishment like that again. Do you understand?”
“Yes, my Lord,” you said, looking up at him with earnest eyes. He liked them, he decided, when they were settled on him.
The first night, he’d answered any questions you’d been left with on how a woman takes pleasure from her husband, and gods, did he give you pleasure. In short order, you’d found yourself looking forward to the hour or so an evening he’d dedicate to getting an heir on you. You were grateful he’d make it an enjoyable experience.
He was long and hard, and you’d taken him two dozen times at least already, and every time he had to let you adjust, lest he hurt you. It was sweet torture for him, feeling you tight around his cock, sighing and humming for him until he’d draw out more sounds.
Your hands, never stilled once he was inside you, gripped at his back, his sides, his neck. Anywhere you could reach, you would touch, but never outside the bedroom. He used to appreciate this, he realised, sinking in all the way and delighting in your gasp. Not having a clingy little wife who lingered about him at all hours.
No, he realised, drawing back then driving forward more firmly. He wanted you to be clingy with him. It was barely a moon into his marriage to you, and he wanted to possess you as much as you seemed to possess him. With this thought, he dedicated himself to your pleasure. He’d make you enjoy his cock beyond anything else, then he’d make you enjoy him.
“My Lord,” you whined as he brushed a spot inside you that had your eyes rolling back and fluttering shut.
Oh yes, the Lion thought, he’d have you in all ways soon enough.
When you’d both agreed to make small appearances around the Keep, Tywin had thought it’d send a clear message that the Lord and Lady Lannister were united despite the tenuous start of your marriage. It did not quite have this affect, to his chagrin.
Men watched you everywhere you went, he realised on these walks. Their eyes would follow your walk, your hair, your face and any words that floated along the wind sweetly. You were splendiferous in red and gold, and he’d spared no expense on your wardrobe. Bedecked in the finest gowns, second to only the Queen, and even then outdoing his daughter to her distaste. He’d made it as clear without words as possible, you were his. And yet, these cads watched his wife as though she were still an eligible heiress and not his lady wife.
Then began the marks.
On your neck, your shoulders, even your wrists, which he delighted in kissing and licking in rare shows of intimacy. He was an odd man, your husband, but he left you to your own devices apart from your new routine of walking and visiting your bed to procure an heir. He’d stop his attentions once you were with child, you knew, but you ignored the twinge of upset the thought caused. He was not your lover, he was your husband, and you lived in a world where they were not one and the same.
The marks were bothersome, especially if he hadn’t kept to below your collarbones, as you’d told him to. He rather seemed pleased with himself when a bruise was left by your ear or your throat. You’d learned all sorts of hairstyles to cover them, styles that seemed to draw the eyes of others, but none moreso than the Master of Coin.
Petyr “Littlefinger” Baelish was not a man you’d heard of before your arrival at the capitol, but he’d made himself known to you at your wedding, and seemingly every other day since. He’d appeared sympathetic at first to your marriage, though when he saw your irritation at the perceived pity, he’d taken another approach. Whispering words of the deeds your Lord Husband had done to carry on his legacy. The details disturbed you of course, but you were not so foolish to think Baelish would tell you anything of the truth, only what he wanted you to know. Ignoring him was easy, but his presence made you uncomfortable, try as you might to hide it.
“My Lady,” he smirked at you. Sat at a bench in the leafy shade, enjoying the weather and a good book, you greeted him politely but made no move to stand or invite him to sit. He cleared his throat at the ensuing silence. “I had hoped you might walk with me around the gardens, my lady?”
Closing your book, you stood and began making your turn about the aisles of flowers and crawling vines. He walked beside you looking at you out his periphery. You’d mastered the art of looking around a room without moving your eyes, so his attention was far less overt than he’d hoped.
“And what did you wish to speak to me about, Master of Coin?” You felt an odd yearning for your husband then. Surely the sly little man would leave you be if your hulk of a husband were near.
“Have you travelled to Dorne before, my lady?”
The question sent a chill through you. The man was up to no good, you were sure, but your husband would surely not desire to hear your concerns over the, as far, polite attentions of a member on the Small Council.
“I have not, my lord. I don’t much fancy such arid temperatures, so I cannot say I have a desire to visit anyhow. Have you?” you asked to keep your polite façade.
“I have, my lady. It’s a beautiful, if arid as you say, land. I’ve many friends there, and a home of my own, too, for when business takes me that side of the world.”
“If you only wished to inquire about my travels, Master of Coin, I shall bid you farewell.” In a move so fast you hardly realised it’d happened, Baelish had placed your hand over his arm. Coincidentally, your Lord Husband happened upon you both that instant. You pulled your hand from him with a delicate frown and took a step away.
“Baelish,” your husband gritted, eyes glittering with danger. For you or Baelish, you weren’t quite sure. Almost certainly both.
“Lord Hand. I shall leave you to your strolling, my lady. Good day.” And then he was gone.
“You are not to walk about the Keep unattended, wife,” Tywin says lowly.
“Yes, my lord,” you reply softly, turning to return to the Keep proper.
That night, your lord husband drew peak after peak from your body, relentless until you were practically unconscious from the pleasure. You’re mine, he’d said over and over as he drove into you. And he did not stop touching you. Your hair, your face, your lips especially. He seemed to kiss the breath out of you, stopping only when he’d finished a second time, and you could barely speak.
You’d woken the next morning alone, as you always did. Your husband would only share your bed for the act of siring an heir, and would always be gone by the time you woke. It didn’t bother you, you told yourself as you woke cold and sore. It was perfectly expectable for a husband to act this way. And you would do your duty, as you’d been taught to, so it hardly mattered if he was there when you woke. He didn’t need to be next to you in the morning to get a child on you, so why would he? It was this cold logic that helped you through your bath and preparations for the day.
===
Two moons later, and your husband had not refrained from exhausting you thoroughly every night. He stayed a little longer, waiting for you to be asleep before he would make his exit, and sometimes you swore you could feel his fingers caressing whatever body part was exposed to him. Though it was surely the musings of a well-sated, completely exhausted woman.
The Master of Coin’s attentions had not faded either, though this made you less than pleased. It was hard to desire leaving the Tower without your husband, knowing Baelish would find you inevitably. He had gotten into the habit of placing your hand on his arm when he could get away with it, which was often as he avoided your husband at all costs. There was no love lost between Littlefinger and the Great Lion.
“Your husband is making a three day expedition to the surrounding towns. Something the Hand does every year or so.”
“Yes, he’s mentioned it. He’s made arrangements accordingly.”
“You must be excited to see more of King’s Landing, my lady.”
“I have requested to stay behind,” you say offhandedly. You were hoping to gauge his intentions by telling him this. The look of determination, and something much like scheming, settled in his eyes. It frightened you.
With the desire to be away from this man and near to your husband, you bid the Master of Coin farewell and walked away before he could follow.
Entering the Tower and seeing your husband hard at work at his desk brought you a feeling of peace you did not realise he gave you.
“Wife,” he said simply.
“My Lord,” you always replied. There was a settee by the window, and in the time you’d been married to Tywin you’d never seen him sit there. You walked to his bookshelf, grabbed whatever spine took your interest and sat at the settee to read. Your husband made no comment, so you did not move.
A couple hours of silence followed, you reading about agricultural infrastructure and him responding to raven after raven.
“You’re disturbed,” he says suddenly.
“I grew weary of people watching me.” It was not quite a lie, but again, how could you be honest that you were hiding from the Master of Coin? That you thought he was up to something? That and how quickly you tired these days. Being married was exhausting, especially when your husband could not seem to get enough of your attentions at night.
“I leave on the morrow for the Tour of the Hand. I had summoned my sister to come for a few weeks to the capitol and she arrived today, but is resting. Mostly to get her away from that miserable husband of hers,” he added. He’d been doing that over the last few weeks, adding details that he usually wouldn’t if you were anyone else. It felt like a token, of what you couldn’t say, but something from him to you regardless.
Your anxiety got in the way of any warmth. Without Tywin, Baelish would have no deterrent to keep him from approaching you, even calling on you in your chambers if he was bold. Having Genna Lannister (never Genna Frey) would perhaps be a hindrance rather than a help. You didn’t know the woman, and the only other Lannister woman in the capitol made no efforts to get to know you.
“I shall look forward to meeting her, my Lord.” He hummed and that was that.
Later that night, after dinner, your husband summoned you to his chambers. Usually he’d cross the dividing parlour between your rooms and bed you there, but he obviously couldn’t be bothered to make the journey, you thought.
He was undressing you as he made sure to do every night, never letting you do it yourself. You undressed him, he’d instructed you on your wedding night, and he would undress you. It was only when you were splayed across his bed, hair unbound and laid across the pillows when his eyes darted to your midsection.
Palming your lower abdomen, and seemingly finding what he was looking for, he said, “You are carrying my babe in your belly, wife.”
The words brought dread. Would he stop his attentions? You hadn’t realised how much you liked them until they might be taken away. But then his words actually sunk in. A baby. There was a babe in your belly, your own, and in some moons it’d be in your arms, gods willing.
Tywin watched as you smiled small at first, then sat up and felt where his hand cupped the slight swell. He saw a true smile from you, one bright and warm as the fire in his chambers that crackled merrily. Tywin felt annoyed that he would have to leave you come morn, especially now that the next lion of Casterly Rock was in your belly. And quietly, perhaps he enjoyed the way you sat with him, and wanted more of the same.
Feeling pride at making his wife smile, and that he’d gotten a babe in her so quickly after their marriage, he kissed you breathless until you pulled away for air. It didn’t stop him from trailing kisses across your neck and collarbones, down to your breasts, which were heaving by now. He couldn’t wait to see them swell in the coming moons.
You thought he would stop there, return to you and get on with it, but he moved lower and lower, until he was staring into your most private place. It was embarrassing for a few moments, until he leaned forward and began kissing you there too. It was overwhelming. So perfect, making you writhe and pant. You never begged, but if he toyed with you like this long enough, you were sure you would.
“You’ve done well, wife. Allow me to reward you,” he purred before his tongue went inside. This, you decided, was well worth it to have waited for. In no time at all the sounds of him kissing you there overtook the fire and even your own deep, heavy breaths were drowned out. “One lion stronger, soon to be two,” he said as you peaked over his lips and tongue.
===
You woke a little after you’d both fallen asleep, tired and sated and, dare you think, happy at the prospect of the babe. It took you a moment to realise you weren’t in your own rooms, and that this was the first time you were waking up beside your husband.
He was laid out on his back, long legs nearly stretching the entire length of enormous bed, one of his arms bent underneath his pillow, and one stretched to rest under your pillow. You only allowed yourself a moment to admire him before quietly getting out of bed, collecting your clothes and moving like a ghost to your own rooms. It was hardly an hour past midnight, and you felt so tired all the time (from the babe you now realised) that all you wanted was to sleep.
Tywin woke an hour before dawn to an empty bed, and this infuriated him somehow. To be left while he slept made him feel as though you’d taken your pleasure and gone away from him. The only thought that stopped him from barging into your rooms was how that’s exactly what he did to you every night but the one you’d just shared.
Getting up from bed and throwing on a dressing gown to cover his nudity he marched directly to your rooms, finding you curled up by the edge of the bed, as though leaving a space for someone else. This appeased him in a way he couldn’t ascertain, but he needn’t linger. It was early still, and he didn’t need to be up and out of the Tower until after breakfast in a rare change of schedule.
He approached your sleeping form and gently manoeuvred you so he could scoop you up. You hummed, then frowned and blinked an eye open.
“M’Lord?” you mumbled.
“Hush,” he soothed, using the voice he’d found you reacted particularly well to. “I woke to find my wife missing from my bed,” he explained softly. “I am simply rectifying the issue.”
“Didn’t think you wanted me to stay,” you sighed, shutting your eyes and allowing him to grip you behind the knees and scoop you by your shoulders. “I’m sorry,” you said, and Tywin was distracted by how sweet and docile you were when sleepy.
“Hush, I said,” he murmured by your temple. You curled closer to him at that, and his chest rumbled in satisfaction. “From now on, you stay in my bed.”
“With you?”
“Yes,” he said, eyes softening, though you’d never know with your eyes shut. “With me.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
Tywin, he wanted to say. Call me Tywin, anything but that. He did not. He was asleep again in moments now that you were back in his chambers, and you’d been asleep again before he set you in the centre of the bed.
When you woke, your husband was still in bed with you, an arm wrapped round your waist, hand splayed over your slight swelling. When he woke a few minutes after you, your husband tightened his hold and pulled you closer. This was new, you thought. But delightful. You realised more and more how pleased you were that you married such a fine man, even if you’d never share a love or more intimacy than expected of you in public. This was enough, you told yourself. It had to be.
You both laid together for a while, and during that time you wondered if your husband would truly listen to you if you mentioned Baelish. But then he rose to dress in time for a midday departure, and you decided the moment had past. You would be able to handle Baelish. You were a lion now.
Genna Lannister was already sat at the breakfast table, and you almost did a double take. Where Tywin was sleek apparel and minimal embellishments, Genna was the opposite. She wore a scarlet gown that accentuated her plump figure, gold dripping from her ears and throat and wrists, and hair done so elaborately you wondered how long she’d been awake to have managed such a style. And she was vivacious as they came.
You enjoyed her immediately.
“Sister!” she announced at your arrival, standing and coming to greet you as though you were long time friends. It didn’t feel predatory the way Baelish or the Queen could be, so you smiled and greeted her the same way.
“No greeting to your Lord Brother?” Tywin grouched.
“Oh, are you here as well, Tywin?” Genna teased. He huffed and pulled out your chair, assisting you into it before seating himself and glaring at his sister to do the same so they may eat.
“And how is my big brother, then?”
“You’re only being tame because you think I have a secret.”
“On the contrary, brother, I know you have a secret, and even better than that, I already know what it is.” She turned to face you and smiled truly at you. “Congratulations, sister,” she said sweetly. “And you! What a greedy lion you must be to get a child on her so fast!”
“Genna,” he warned, seeing your embarrassed flush. The blonde only laughed and waved him away. And Tywin let her! What a marvel this woman, her sister, was turning out to be.
“Oh, quit your growling and eat your porridge, brother.” And Tywin did just that.
It was a lively breakfast that came to an end when Tywin excused himself to prepare for his departure. You curtsied when he bowed to you both before taking his leave.
“Tell me, my dear, have you thought of names?”
“I only discovered last night I was withchild, and it was even my husband who’d figured it out. Do you have suggestions?”
“Genna for a girl,” she joked. “Tyton is a strong name. Perhaps Tywin will like it, too.” You agreed, and you did like Tyton. It was a strong name.
Genna, after a tour of the Tower, insisted on a walk around the gardens before seeing Tywin off. Baelish did not appear, to your relief, but his absence was almost as worrying. He was up to something you could tell, but what? Maybe you could confide in Genna?
In the end, you saw off your husband as a good wife should, not even having to pretend very much that you were sad to see him go. The Queen hadn’t paid an inch of attention to you besides a look of distaste after she greeted her Lady Aunt. And then it was back inside for you and Genna to read, then eat and retire.
The next day, you realised that yes, you missed your husband. Already you were wishing the three days would end so he could be by your side again. Your anxiety about Baelish had only worsened since you’d found you were having a babe, and Tywin had suggest you both wait to see the maester until after he returned. The news would spread fast that the Lady Lannister was withchild, and Tywin had said he didn’t want to be far when that happened, in case of anything. You’d wanted to lean up and kiss him when he said that, but you refrained, certain he’d shoo you away.
“My dear, you look exhausted. Come, we’ll prepare for bed then retire.”
You nodded to Genna, who had doted on you in a rather maternal way since her arrival. She’d helped you to undress, then into your nightgown and bed, wishing you sweet dreams before going to her own chambers on the level below.
It was dark when you were disturbed by something. The fire had died down (no one but Tywin could make a fire that would last the whole night) and the room was pitch black. You turned to sleep again when something foul smelling fell over you mouth and nose. You struggled against the stranger’s hand, trying not to breathe in whatever was soaked into the cloth. To your horror, your body was relaxing, your mind losing consciousness. Your last coherent thought was a desperate yearning for Tywin.
===
Genna woke and dressed, her handmaiden well versed in her hair enough to do it all in half an hour, and was sitting at the breakfast table waiting for you. When half an hour past and she heard no movement from yours and her brother’s chambers, she made her way to them herself. If the maids were too incompetent to wake you then she’d do it herself.
Upon entering the room, she stopped short. You were not in bed, and there were no maids fluttering about as they would if you were bathing. Genna had learned to trust her intuition and felt something was deeply wrong, especially as the bed looked as though you’d had a restless sleep. She wanted to believe you were just up early and perhaps strolling the gardens, but Genna knew that wasn’t the case.
She called for the guards, and told them to gather as many Lannister men as they could to search the Keep for the Lady Lannister. She hoped beyond hope she was wrong, but she so rarely was.
===
You woke to darkness and the gentle sway of a ship sailing, and thought yourself dreaming before you jolted upright. You were in a cabin on a ship, that much was obvious. What wasn’t, was why you were there, who’d taken you and where you were going. Dread settled in your gut. Would your husband find out? A silly question. He possibly already knew. What you were frightened to consider was that he might think you’d run away. Your heart gave a fierce pang of longing for your husband yet again, and then steely resolve filled you. There was a desk in the room you were in, one obviously well used, if the stacks of papers, inkwell and sacks of coins were any indication.
You stood, saw a dress laid out on the bed, one of dark blue decorated with swirls in a pattern you knew Baelish to favour. You should have said something, you thought bitingly. You should have gone with your husband. Then you’d be exhausted but safe, and with him.
You dressed in the gown quickly, fearing someone would come in as you were underdressed. The gown had pockets, as was custom in southern dresses now that the Queen had made it so. A plan was forming in your head about what to do, and with the nimbleness of a mouse and the resolve of a lionness, you grabbed the smallest coin pouch, checked to see it had golden stags, then bound the pouch tight as you could to avoid clinking, pocketed it, then sat on the bed and waited.
Baelish came in after a time, not that you were surprised, but you had a part to play now, and you’d need to be convincing. Your life and your babe’s counted on it.
“Lord Baelish?”
“Hello, my dear.”
“My Lord, what has happened? Did my husband send for you?”
“Your husband,” Baelish began, walking to sit beside you on the bed. It was a violation of etiquette, though you didn’t show any discomfort. “Will no longer be an issue.”
Your heart almost stopped, but then you reasoned even Petyr Baelish could not kill your husband. Tywin was too well-protected and too intelligent to be caught off guard as you had.
“He has sent me away?” you asked, playing the distraught little wife.
Baelish made to speak, to deny your words, you knew. Then he paused, and you saw that he considered you believing this the favourable option.
“He did, my Lady. He had men retrieve you from your bed, but my own intercepted them and brought you aboard my ship. I intended to offer you a spot anyway, to come with me to the Vale where my betrothed awaits us.”
You allowed a faux tear to fall, and your head to droop down to your chest.
“He isn’t fond of me,” you admitted quietly. You weren’t sure it was a lie, so it was easy to say so.
“He neglects you, my Lady. You are such a treasure,” he said, the obvious lust making your stomach roll. You only managed to nod. “We’ll be docking soon, my Lady. I sent another ship to Dorne and we will be docking nearby to the capitol to avoid suspicion. Why would we be so close when there’s a ship making to across the sea?”
“Very clever, my Lord,” you said softly. He smirked at you then brushed a lock of your hair behind your ear, you blushed and turned away, and it was enough to deter him from pushing for more. You felt sick that he was touching you, feeling as though you were somehow being unfaithful to your husband. You couldn’t let on that you thought this, so you didn’t.
You waited until you heard Baelish disembarking the ship with great fanfare, stating something about needing to settle some business in the port town you were docked at. It was very late at night, you couldn’t have been sailing for more than three or so hours, but regardless, it was many days walk and at least a day’s ride by horse to return to the capitol. You found a cloak and some old breeches and tunics in a closet, boots that were too big, so you stuffed some cloth under and around your foot. It made you a few inches taller, more convincing in your disguise as a sailor. You pinned your hair back with whatever you could find and slipped out of the cabin to find a guard slumped over in sleep outside your door. You hadn’t known he was there, but by the grace of the Mother, you had a chance.
You walked off the ship in no particular hurry to avoid suspicion, then made your way to the nearest stable you could see, banging on the door until someone answered.
“What d’ya want,” a grisly looking man groused once he opened the door. You placed the coin pouch in his hands.
“Give me your best horse, saddle it immediately and the coin is yours.” He nodded, looking at you strangely before doing as you asked.
“I dunno who yer runnin’ from, girl, but ye better be fast. An’ ‘ere,” he said handing you a pouch of what you discovered to be bread and some apples. “Some for ye, and some for the stallion,” he explained.
“I thank you,” you said quietly.
“Go on now. Sun’s comin’ soon.” And off you rode.
It was in the heat of the midday sun you began to feel poorly. Your legs were sore and chafing, your hips aching, and you hadn’t dared stop to rest or eat lest Baelish discover you. You wouldn’t rest until you were back with your husband, this you vowed.
===
“A raven, milord, from your Lady Sister,” the squire said as Tywin retired to his tent. By the morrow, he’d be back in his own chambers with his wife, and able to be rid of the grime that always managed to build up on the road.
He sat first, poured some wine, and took a long sip before unrolling the parchment and reading the note.
“Prepare my horse!” he roared moments after having read the note a third time. Men sprang into action, some packing his tent and others preparing to depart with their Liege Lord. Within minutes he was riding hard into the night and back to King’s Landing.
His wife had waited for him to be gone then she’d stolen away in the night with his babe inside her. He was furious, and he rode like it. How dare she, he thought. You had tried to make a fool of him and no one fooled the Great Lion and got away with it. Beyond his anger, he realised his chest was tight. She’d left, was all he could think. And he’d fancied himself to be growing fond of her. What a fool.
“I want a patrol to set out immediately,” he said to yet another squire as he marched into the Red Keep. “Find my runaway bride and bring her to me unharmed.”
“Yes, milord!” And away the boy went.
Genna was pacing in his study when he arrived, a worried look on her face she only wore for her family (minus her husband), then regarded him intensely.
“She did not run, Tywin.”
“She did,” he gritted out.
“She didn’t. She fretted the entire day you left, asked me about a dozen times where I thought you might be as the day passed. She did not leave, brother.”
And loathe as he was to admit it, his sister was far more perceptive than she had any right to be. If she believed his wife had not run from him, then he would try to believe the same. His anger immediately turned to angst.
“Then she was taken, and is likely gone to me forever if she is not found in the next days.” His voice was low, growlish, and Gemma saw right through it.
“She’s a smart little thing, Tywin, and we have some leads already. Have hope, brother.”
“She is carrying my babe,” he said, though his sister knew him too well not to know what he truly meant.
“She is your wife, brother, and she at least takes her vows seriously. She would not betray you like this, and I happen to think she will try everything in her power to come back.”
Tywin realised she could very well be dead already. How apt of the gods, to thrust a wife upon him he had no want for, then to take her from him when he did.
“I’ll kill whoever did this,” he said quietly. He felt his sister’s hand on his shoulder and clenched his fists. He wished for his wife in that moment, their easy silences and the way she seemed to seek him out just to be near to him. “And I’ll never let her leave my sight again.”
===
There was a point where even your horse refused to go farther, and you had to agree. It was nearing nightfall, and you were exhausted. Your whole body ached, and you thanked the gods you weren’t heavier withchild or riding wouldn’t have been an option.
You settled for the night, ate the bread the stable hand had packed you and fed all but one apple to your horse, who munched happily on them then the grass, then promptly went to sleep near you. It was a sweet horse, and didn’t mind when you laid next to it, leaning your tired body on its side.
You slept for hardly a few hours before dreams of Baelish catching you and Tywin truly having sent those men woke you. Rousing the horse, who seemed grumpy at being woken, you re-saddled him and began a lighter pace. You had already begun to recognise your surroundings, and made haste again towards the capitol. When you crested a hill and saw the top of the Red Keep in the distance, you burst into tears of relief and pushed your horse to ride on. He seemed to understand your anxiety to be home, and did as you bade him. You patted his neck the entire way through the sleepy King’s Landing, and all the way to the King’s Gate.
“Who goes there,” the gate master called out at your arrival. Your must’ve looked like a commoner with your drab coat and less than quality clothes. They probably thought you stole the horse.
Pulling back your hood, you revealed your face, unpinned your hair and announced yourself.
“I am Lady Lannister,” you said, and heard murmuring follow. A guard came down to you, shone a torch in your face and upon recognising you, he called for the gates to open and for someone to retrieve the Hand.
They escorted you up to the Palace steps, and assured you they’d take care of your horse, before a servant came to take you to your chambers. You could hardly walk, so sore from the saddle, and exhausted beyond belief. You were nearly at the Tower when a commotion caught your attention.
Ahead of you, you saw your husband. He was still dressed from the day and did not look to have slept, despite it being nearly dawn. He laid his eyes on you, and both of you sprang to go to the other.
Your legs protested the pace, but you hurried down the hall to him. In several long strides he reached you and pulled you to his chest, arms locking around you tight. You cried again, clutching the lapels on his doublet.
“Hush, wife,” he said, though you cried harder at his voice. He picked you up into his arms, told the guards to stand by the door on rotation, then took you inside the Tower.
You had cried all through him undressing you, and himself, all through the bath he’d ordered be delivered, and all through him washing your sore, bruised and chafed body. Only when you were back in your bed did you finally settle enough to speak.
“I didn’t run from you, I swear it, I swear it,” you repeated to him, begging him without words to believe you. He caressed your body from hip to shoulder, holding you tight.
“I know you didn’t, wife, though I had initially assumed that to be the case,” he said as though it shamed him to have thought that.
“Baelish,” you gasped. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think— I didn’t think you’d believe me, but I should’ve said, I should’ve gone with you,” you explained, though you didn’t really explain much at all.
“Baelish took you?” he growled, arms tightening around you. You nodded.
“He had two ships, one to Dorne and one to the Vale. We docked in the night to not look suspicious, and I found clothes and stole a pouch of coin, slipped off the ship and bought a horse. I rode all the way here, I hardly stopped.”
Tywin would be the one to kill Baelish, he decided. For making his wife afraid, for taking her from him and for putting his babe in potential danger. He would make it slow as possible without being outright torture if he could manage, though the idea certainly had merit.
“I was so frightened,” you admitted quietly, looking up from your husband’s chest to peer at him in the eyes. “Scared he’d get me all the way to the Vale, and then I’d never be able to get away. Scared he’d know about the babe and— and give me something to kill it,” you said voice cracking. You lifted a palm to his cheek, the first time you’d ever reached for him outside of marital duties. He leaned into your palm, eyes fixed on you. “I was so scared I’d never be able to see you again, my Lord.”
“Tywin,” he said, desperate, though you couldn’t tell it was that. “You call me Tywin.”
“Tywin,” you breathed, and then his mouth was on you. He called you wife, he called you lady, he called your name, all with ‘my’ attached. He did not leave you as you drifted into an exhausted sleep, nor as you rested. Not for anything. His grandson could summon him and he’d tell him to talk a walk off a balcony railing. He would not let you go, not ever again.
“I’m here,” you whispered in your slumber, arms equally tight around him. “I’m here, Tywin.”
He kissed your hairline, smelling the soaps he’d used to wash you, the ones you always smelled of. He couldn’t believe someone had dared to steal you from him, to take his lady wife.
“I thought you might’ve been…” he could not finish the thought. It would make him think of the familiar grief he carried with him every day, the one of a man who’d lost his wife. He could not compete with gods and nature, but he could certainly compete with Baelish.
“It would need more than a mockingbird to defeat a lionness,” you purred. His worry for you had made you feel needy, and you knew he hated neediness.
“You will not leave me,” he commanded, and your heart gave way to the affection you held off for so long.
“Never,” you agreed. “And if I go anywhere, I’ll take you with me,” you said, kissing him firmly, your fist time initiating such an embrace. He gave into you immediately, ravishing your mouth and neck and chest with those marks he was so fond of, and truly, you were fond of them too. Maybe you’d even be daring enough to leave your own.
He made love to you that morning, as the birds sang so did you, though to Tywin, your song was much sweeter.
It was some weeks before your husband brought up your kidnapping again. He had been fiercely protective since your return to him, and there wasn’t a moment you were unguarded. There was no Baelish in the capitol anymore, so you felt at ease enough to return to the gardens as you used to, though now you had Genna for company, who was doting and funny, and kept your spirits high through the stress of the recent moon.
You were declared in perfect health despite the bruising and chafing by a maester Tywin trusted. You thanked the gods every day since your return for keeping your babe safe through the turmoil.
“My dear,” Genna said, pulling you from your daydreaming. “Have you thought it might be twins?”
That night, you asked Tywin if he agreed with his sister, and after careful consideration, he agreed you were larger than usual for so early on. His eyes darkened, and he pulled you to bed within moments.
Your husband, you’d learned in the recent weeks, was needier than he let on. Always wanting to touch, always wanting to kiss your sweet mouth when privacy allowed it, and gods, did his desire for you become plain as the sun in the sky. He could not get enough of you, how your hips were widening and your breasts were swelling, how your stomach had begun to protrude noticeably. He was prideful as a lion, especially with evidence of his virility in the form of his beautiful wife carrying his babe.
On a day where you wanted nothing more than to nap and read in your husband’s solar while he worked, there was finally news of Baelish. His ships had been sacked by the Greyjoys, and he’d been held prisoner there for a sennight. Tywin allowed you to see his correspondence thereafter with the Greyjoys, and you nearly baulked at the sum of money he’d offered for Baelish, alive.
And, as in most things, Tywin got his way, and Baelish was delivered to the capitol in chains. He certainly looked worse for wear, and you privately found satisfaction in that.
Baelish had demanded a trial by combat, and a knight well known in Dorne had stepped forward to be his fighter. Tywin had wanted to fight himself, but as Hand to the King, he resided as a judge on the case and was not permitted. His son, Jaime, had volunteered to fight on, technically, your behalf, though he was officially representing the Hand.
Jaime arrived to the fight in Lannister gold and red, declared he fought as the son of the Great Lion, and would fight for his Liege Lady. He nodded to you in the Dragon Pit, where the fight was to take place, and you nodded back in appreciation of the message. Even the Queen, who had mellowed around you some with your pregnancy and her aunt’s intervention, had nodded approvingly.
The fight was far shorter than any would’ve expected, the Dornish fighter far more flashy than skilled. He was no match for Jaime, who was considered one of the greatest knights in history.
Baelish’s head hung low as his champion yielded, and Tywin had insisted he be executed then and there. You watched as your husband swung the sword himself, and forced yourself to witness Baelish’s head fall from his shoulders.
Later, when you were finished being sick, Tywin scolded you.
“You needn’t do things like that, watching something so violent. I should have had you escorted back to our chambers.”
You graciously took his hand as he led you to bed after you’d rinsed your mouth and chewed some mint leaves.
“I would not have agreed to be away from you,” you said simply, watching Tywin’s frown deepen and his chest simultaneously puff at your desire to always be by his side.
You’d grown bolder in your affections for him slowly everyday since your return. You touched him all the time now, and he revelled in it.
“Lay with me,” you requested sweetly, patting his side of the bed. Your stomach was certainly too large for a single babe, and sleeping had already become difficult for you, only made easier with your husband’s arms around you. It was inconvenient, but he would sooner bring his work to bed than give you reason to shy from him again.
“And how are my little lions,” he said as he reclined and cradled your belly in his palm.
“They’re— oh!” You exclaimed, reaching for your belly, a frown furrowing your brow.
“What is it?” he asked at once, dread taking him. But you smiled suddenly, grabbed his hand and pressed it firmly to the other side. He was about to call for a maester when he felt the fluttering kicks of his children (he was convinced there were three, though you vehemently hoped not).
“They’re saying hello to their papa,” you sighed as he began massaging your bump, as though playing with the babes inside.
He moved lower on the bed, pressed his mouth to your skin and hummed. You laughed as the babes wriggled inside you, the feeling odd and bordering on uncomfortable, but to see this man, your husband, so gentle with you and with children that did not yet quite exist, your heart felt fuller than ever.
“Tywin,” you called, prompting him to look up at you. “You are dearer to me than any other, my lion.”
Your husband smiled and crawled back up to your lips to kiss them. He did not say anything back, but he made the most gentle love to you, whispering your name and how lovely you were, how good a mother you’d be to his babes. By the time you peaked, tears had been streaming down your face, wiped away each time by the gentle hand of your man.
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Isles of Daffodil
‘Morrow the dove will sing
as the lark begins to take wing
naught mind an apostrophe
and sink your teeth into me.
Take the reins,
the rod, or silver rood
with you into the other room
and on knees you’ll pray
to nothing
just to numb your mortal pains.
Yet like Gawain,
perhaps your head will tumble down
from an axe’s fall
or like Enoch you’ll be stranded
on an isle null.
Or as the light dims
in the end of day,
You’ll be as Dante
rising downward into Heaven’s
Eternal Rose—Afraid.
The shovel beckons a taker,
the handle cracks from abuse,
Nay the metal rusts in April,
and its maker plants a ruse
to foil your digging
of flowerbeds and
nettles yet
at the prickling thrush,
her song swirling in your ear
through open windows
and silent houses
which echoes thru and thru.
You sing back
to answers naught
Her song has finished—it’s through—
and there and then on that flowerbed
a daffodil began to bloom.
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Thoughts on Le coffre-fort de Madame Imbert:
hôtels de peintre - what are painter hotels?
l’octroi des Ternes - toll booth? Customs house? As a last resort, I checked the English translation of the story on Project Gutenberg and there's no mention of any place of business near where Imbert is attacked, nor any employee assisting Lupin in summoning a car.
à bras-le-corps - head on? From context, maybe fought hand to hand?
Arsène Lupin n’avait pas alors cette célébrité que lui ont value l’affaire Cahorn, son évasion de la Santé, et tant d’autres exploits retentissants.
I wonder what precisely is the chronological order of these stories. Is there one? Obviously Le Collier de la Reine is first, and the first four chapters are in chronological order. But this one is clearly set before L'Arrestation de Arsène Lupin, and likely before Le Sept de Cœur.
Mon petit, fit Arsène, si j’ai machiné la petite agression de cette nuit, si je me suis donné la peine, à trois heures du matin, le long des fortifications, de t’allonger un coup de canne sur le poignet et un coup de pied sur le tibia, risquant ainsi d’endommager mon unique ami, ce n’est pas pour renoncer maintenant au bénéfice d’un sauvetage si bien organisé.
Haha, Lupin arranged everything! I love how he is as much a con man as a thief.
paquets de titres - deeds? Doesn't make sense in context. Bonds?
les pinces monseigneur - basically bolt cutters (Les pinces are pliers)
entêté - single minded? Dictionary says stubborn, but but I think the gist is that he's willing to consider different methods.
Où la force échoue, la ruse réussit, se dit-il. L’essentiel est d’avoir un œil et une oreille dans la place.
And this is why he is so successful.
I think there is something off about the Imberts. Perhaps they are running a con themselves.
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We need to talk about... Blue and Yellow and Hopper.
"People have been telling me that my entire life. And it's almost never true. It's never true." - What is the actual meaning behind this because Henry says the same.
Why did no one ever make this connection - probably the most important and definitely the most consistent wardrobe choice in Stranger Things is the blue hair tie of Hopper's daughter Sara, which Hopper had since day 1 kept it in S2 until he gave it to El, and the yellow watch that Max wears since she arrived.
Blue & Yellow...love. Mostly used as a sign of romantic love but in this case it ties two characters that had very little interaction together through El.
They even carry the same bag with the respective accessory hand side...
... or holding hands with these hands. Or how their heart hands high fiving helps Max and later touching again in the hospital after El's heart figuratively restarted Max's heart.
Obviously linking them (literally) in the reproduced Back to the Future time jump scene by the end of the shopping sequence with their heart hands/arms.
You get the gist. Show...don't tell. Yet no one draws the connections. (No one notices the mirrors. 🙄)
Blue and Yellow. Reins = yellow. Saddle = blue.
And Max was always part of Hopper's and El's relationship coded through the red table cloth with the two white napkins and Max's jacket with the two white lines (= II = 11)
Ot how these moments from S3 and S4 are connected.
Max,El and Hopper. What's their connection? Who is Max? Who is El?
Like being the good Ones.
Is it just to foreshadow that Max through El and what will happen is going to be Hopper's daughter (that's for sure)? Or is it more?
Was Hopper left with the memory of Sara, forgetting about the other daughter he has or was he ever aware of her? After all, Hopper does have affairs/one night stands. Is it possible that he fathered a child and when it came out, the other "father" left both his daughter and the mother? 🤔
Or is it possible that they changed their memories about this? I don't know. I have a few ideas but that's it.
So what is the secret behind the blue hair tie and yellow watch?
Max has parallels and mirrors especially with Will (both possessed/abducted already, Will's S2 was Max's S4), Henry and El. Her role, as an active part, is much more important and integral to the plot of S5 than most anticipate or acknowledge. She is the silver cat, the other one, with her silver headphones and hissing at others that is obvious ( bc she will absorb El) . And the connection to Hopper, as subtextual as it is, does exist.
There's a lot about Max we don't know actually.
For the record: I am totally against erasing Sara because A) it's an important element of Hopper's arc (taking choice from Sara and giving choice to El) and B) more importantly, erasing Sara means to erase the social-political criticism in the show of the Vietnam War and the use of Agent Orange that even poisoned their own soldiers and their children.
Sara must not be erased. It sends the wrong message.
So, every theory talking about this: Please keep in mind what it means, what kind of message is send, by just say that Sara isn't real within the shows universe.
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Ils oseront, vous verrez
Obstiné comme une bête de somme, le gouvernement, avec son semblant de majorité, poursuit néanmoins son effort et psalmodie ses éléments de langage : solidarité, progrès, justice. Les chiffres ne mentent pas. [...]
Ce comportement de rouleau compresseur n’est pourtant pas si surprenant. [...] Le recours systématique à la ruse, l’absence de vergogne, le savoir-faire techno. Tout le temps que va durer cette mascarade, on sentira à la manœuvre des ingénieurs de la chose publique aussi bien instruits que peu scrupuleux. Ceux-ci feront jouer tous les rouages, administratifs, légaux et institutionnels. Leur maîtrise s’illustrera comme jamais dans ces quelques semaines de manigances historiques. [...]
Pourtant, cette obstination gouvernementale ne va pas sans une drôle d’impression de contrecœur. [...] A les voir, on dirait qu’ils montent au front une baïonnette dans les reins. La conviction n’y est pas. Les fils du marionnettiste ruinent l’illusion. [...] Alors, ce pouvoir si mal élu, vacillant de naissance et mal aimé dès le départ, emprunte la seule voie qui lui semble praticable : le 49.3.[...]
C’est à partir de là que la chronique prend une ampleur presque tragique. Car il n’est plus seulement question des retraites, mais de la démocratie. On ne conteste plus seulement une politique, mais un règne. Le récit, à cet instant, doit changer de ton, car si tout demeure légal, plus rien n’est juste et sous ses dehors réguliers, le pouvoir vient brutalement de changer de physionomie. Sous l’effet du scandale énorme que constitue ce passage en force, le drap qui recouvrait sa mécanique intime est tombé. Sa nature est à nu, le vernis a pété, la brute est sous nos yeux. On a compris qu’elle est en mission, murée dans ses certitudes. Elle ne fera pas de cadeaux. [...]
Mais le plus fou est encore à venir. Le Président, manifestement impatienté par ce peuple qui s’obstine à ne pas être à la hauteur, le tance, injurie les manifestants, accuse les syndicats. Il s’invente dépositaire exclusif de toute légitimité. On croit rêver. La surdité est à son comble, l’aveuglement radical. L’exécutif fait bip-bip sur son orbite lointaine. Pour finir, dans une allocution lunaire de plus, digne d’un Skype de PDG de multinationale, le même président admet que sa réforme n’est pas acceptée et passe sans transition au nouvel agenda du Comité Exécutif Central : 100 jours pour réparer la France tous azimuts. Le déluge d’annonces va suivre, souvent recyclées. L’idée est simple : saturer les canaux et les citoyens, forcer le pas, imprimer le rythme, c’est la méthode Sarkozy revisitée stroboscope. Rendez-vous le 14 juillet. D’ici là, de toute façon, on aura eu Roland-Garros, le Tour de France et les incendies. Les Français, Inch Allah, seront passés à autre chose. [...]
Depuis le 49.3, la démocratie française a une gueule de dystopie. La République bourgeoise telle que sous Guizot (mais désormais entrepreneuriale et techno) est ressortie de l’abîme comme une Atlantide, gouvernant à son idée, à coups de décrets, juchée sur son quart de peuple, infirme comme jadis, avec pour béquilles sa police guère subtile et l’étai résolu des grands intérêts. [...]
Et nous voilà nous, incrédules, au bord du gouffre climatique, matraqués et tenus, aux mains de maîtres qui nous font cette drôle de guerre, avec des institutions ébranlées, des juridictions d’exception entrées dans le droit commun et une extrême droite aux portes de l’Elysée. Car le pire est là sans doute. Dans quatre ans, la colère libérée par cette forfaiture légale s’exprimera avec une amplitude qui fera passer les black blocks pour d’aimables ambianceurs d’Ibiza. Et ce pouvoir qui a tant fait pour que le pire advienne ira alors dire que la faute revient à ses adversaires, tous populistes, sapeurs de démocratie, précurseurs du fascisme. Ils oseront, vous verrez. [...]
Pour un écrivain ou une écrivaine qui s’intéresse à son temps, c’est un moment d’effarement et de bascule. Le réel est devenu si caricatural qu’on ne sait plus par quel bout le prendre. Chaque jour apporte son lot d’aberrations ; il suffit de lire Pif, Playboy ou Têtu. Face au renversement du langage, à la falsification galopante, à l’énorme besoin de mots qui se fait jour pour décrire l’époque et réduire l’hégémonie de sa bêtise particulière, on se demande quoi faire, quels moyens employer. [...]
Ce que nous pouvons faire, c’est ça : raconter. Que nos récits infusent. Ils feront un jour le ridicule de ceux qui aujourd’hui se prennent pour des hommes d’Etat et ne sont souvent que les managers de l’entreprise France. Que nos phrases fassent honte dès maintenant aux magouilleurs de légitimité, aux laquais perpétuels, à la brutalité qui brise nos révoltes. Que nos textes interdisent le passage du temps et forcent sans cesse à revenir sur ce qui nous a été volé. La pilule amère ne doit pas passer. Surtout, nos mots peuvent dénuder n’importe quel roi, fût-ce a posteriori. Et d’ici là, ils donneront une voix à celles et ceux qui n’en ont pas. Le roman de ce pays s’écrit aujourd’hui à l’encre de leur volonté piétinée.
Retraites : le roman national est à nous, par Nicolas Mathieu (Le Libé des écrivains, Libération, 20 avril 2023)
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Half Past Twelve
A humanformers SG! Fic which exploded into being something bigger than I expected it to and absolutely obliterated me every step of the way!
Humanformers!SG! belongs to @cirilee and Oracle is mine <3
//Also features a head canon about Soundwave speaking and how I think he would speak w/o mask and visor. Also someone put these poor boys to bed lol
He didn't mean to. He never meant to. But Cliffjumper was there and hurting him and it was so easy to make it stop, and he wasn't thinking straight because he could hardly breathe.
And the next thing he knew there was a dead body on the floor and his wrists were bruised up and down from the force that came with choking him out on the chain of his cuffs. Dove tried to press himself against the floor and melt into it, to disappear from sight forever because he was going to suffer for this. Cliffjumper probably would have stopped hurting him eventually, but now he'd been stopped for good.
It was very cold, and the room felt very, very, empty.
"My dear?" Megatron's voice was soft, and it took Dove a sleepy second or two to realize he was not in the cage, or the autobot base, but instead safely back on the Nemesis. He was also on the floor, just because it was too hard to get used to sleeping in a proper bed again right away.
The floor was more comfortable because in a pathetic way, it felt like home.
"Y.... yes?" His voice was hoarse, and he winced silently from the disuse.
"Are you alright?"
"Bad dream."
"Ah," Megatron looked at him, features soft and loving, but not pitying. Megatron never pitied him, or Shockwave, or anybody. He worried about them, but it was in the way that you worried about a house burning down - he knew they were strong and never underestimated them - rather than a flower losing its petals.
Shockwave was... coping. He assumed the scientist was anyways. He never saw very much of Shockwave anymore, unless seeing his back as he turned a corner counted.
"Do you want to talk about it? Or would you like me to make you a warm drink?"
Dove paused, staring at his hands, unbruised but still tingly in the wake of the nightmare. He stood up slowly and shakily, and Megatron silently followed.
The Nemesis was quiet, which made since as most were sleeping by now. With the war as over as it could be - the Prime was gone and the other autobots who refused to even consider compassion silently licking their wounds and their pride - the Nemesis no longer felt like a protection, but a home. The light flickered in the canteen's kitchen - merrily so, perhaps - and Dove smiled faintly into his cup.
Warm drinks may have irritated his throat at first, getting used to them again rather than lukewarm broths, but they were soothing and felt like a hug. The smiled faded.
"Dove... would you care to sit with me?" A genuine question.
Those were hard to wrap his head around too, since every question the autobots ever asked always had two meanings. Nothing was genuine, everything was a ruse. Not here, not anymore. He nodded timidly and sat at one of the long tables, just across from Megatron.
Not wanting to intrude or to poke and prod until Dove was uncomfortable, Megatron let him take the reins. He just didn't know where to begin.
"It was... Cliffjumper," felt like a good place to start, "I had a dream... about Cliffjumper."
Megatron could vaguely picture the short redheaded soldier with the hateful glare and the busted lip. He could not, however, restrain himself from grimacing at the thought.
"He didn't harm you... did he?"
"Only once." Dove rubbed his thumb over the back of his hand and stared into his mug. "I hurt him back. Worse."
He was whispering, not only because his voice still wasn't used to talking so much, but because he was afraid. Being afraid was so pointless though, because it was over.
It was all over. As soon as Predaking killed the Prime in the last battle it came to a gruesome bloody end, and they could move on. They'd get back up and continue forward in the only way they knew how. Slowly and painfully.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Megatron was speaking slowly, both hands cupping his mug as he tried to suppress a silent yawn.
Dove shook his head. He knew he could talk about it; he was allowed to; he wouldn't be punished but he... he couldn't. There was an almost invisible wall, so thin it didn't feel like anything at all, covering his mouth and blocking the words so they couldn't escape. It was just easier not to fight it.
The sound of a door quietly, slowly, creaking open was enough to draw both from their thoughts. Megatron rose to stand, in the event that worst case scenarios may have been happening. They shouldn't but fuck he wasn't taking any chances.
Of course, it was Soundwave, slinking in quietly. He'd taken off his mask and visor - he thought he'd be alone, judging from how quickly he attempted to obscure his face - and he too seemed to be restless. Megatron calmed, and relaxed back down from his anxious high.
"Soundwave, it's late. What are you doing awake?"
The quiet third said nothing, but turned to look at them, hand slowly lowering - Dove could see the wounds inflicted by the mad doctor in the past, a very long time ago, but still scarred over, as if untouched by time - back to his side. His expression too, was soft, but plagued by a quiet disturbance.
He shifted his weight from leg to leg before deliberating and trying to clear his throat. Soundwave spoke less and less since that day, much like Dove, much like Shockwave. The autobots kept them quiet.
"Couldn't. Sleep." He settled on, short and to the point.
"Ah, perhaps you'd like to join us then?"
Soundwave was considering his next thoughts, how to word them, when another face peered round the doorway. The clicking and grinding were enough of a giveaway to make him known even before he could be seen.
"Shockwave, you're awake too?"
"It's like a party." Dove smiled faintly, once again rubbing his thumb over the back of his hand.
"Yes." Soundwave looked over in the direction of the fourth.
Shockwave was tall now. He'd never been tall before but when he'd been captured - escaped after Dove did, no less - Ratchet the Hatchet had ideas on how to enhance soldiers and figured that testing it out on a pacifistic scientist with no real field experience was better than on Dove who'd killed at least one person before.
He was angular too. His hands now claws, sharp and dangerous, with the slightest impression of his metal spine creating prominent bumps on the back of his sweater. His legs made wearing normal pants near impossible so he'd been forced to settle on shorts - fabric really only worked on legs with one joint, and which weren't reinforced steel. Who knew?
"It's late, you two should be resting."
"You two. Resting." Soundwave retorted, leaning against the counter, and gently scratching Shockwave's shoulder blades.
"I uhm... had a nightmare. I'm sorry."
"Not your fault."
Soundwave was shaking his head; it wasn't his fault. It was so bizarre because it had been his fault. Everything had been his fault. And here was someone telling him to his face that it wasn't.
"He's right you know. Nightmares happen to the best of us." Megatron was speaking quietly, in part to give Shockwave and Soundwave their weird affectionate time, and in part to be compassionate to him. To him.
"I've had them before too, and they aren't moral failings. They're part of what it means to exist. They don't make you a bad person, even if you're the bad person in the nightmare. They're just your mind trying to make sense of the world.
"Sometimes your mind just gets confused and mixes up all the events. And that's okay."
Dove paused, staring at the table and still, for all the world, feeling like Megatron wasn't correct. He did kill Cliffjumper, and no matter how nice he tried to be to himself, how much he tried to get better he just kept slipping backwards and making mistakes.
Maybe he was the mistake.
"No."
Soundwave, quiet and introverted he may be, could still command a room if the need arose.
"You're...not. No."
He sounded certain of himself. His own voice hoarse, but there were tears in the corners of his eyes. Shockwave was looking between them both and trying to puzzle out where this was coming from, a claw gently tap-tap-tapping on Soundwave's shoulder.
"I'm not saying that it's just very hard to make progress, and sometimes I do wish it weren't so."
"Your thoughts. Obvious." Soundwave may have been smiling, trying to banter with him for old times' sake, though he looked like he may have been on the verge of crying for real.
"Hmph... I don't think that loudly." His wit wasn't quite acidic any longer, but it seemed to work. Especially so when he quietly patted the spot next to him.
They found themselves sitting there and talking quietly about nightmares and coping strategies, and all the drama on the Nemesis - most of which was really just speculation about Knockout and Breakdown's attempts to co-parent even if they weren't in a relationship any longer, and that time Breakdown tried to help him and managed to trip over air. It was somewhat funny in retrospect.
Shockwave and Soundwave were - like Dove and Megatron - seated across from one another, and Soundwave was very gently holding onto Shockwave's claws, thumbing the joints where rust was gathering.
-
None of them remembered exactly how they spent a good three hours speaking in the canteen, nor how the next four hours were spent sleeping sitting down. But they did remember a bleary return to the waking world at seven thirty.
Specifically, because Shockwave's son - Dove recalled, distantly, Arcee once calling him spawn and very nearly getting her face re-arranged for the trouble - tiptoed in and tried to sneak past to take the empty mugs so he could wash them, only for Shockwave to jolt awake, kick the underside of the table, and for everybody to be awake afterwards.
At least nobody was hurt, and it was a very momentary startle, besides, he'd been trying to help.
"Mornin' guppy."
"Oh, good morning... sorry to wake you guys." He gave a very meek smile, and if you didn't look too hard you could mistake his face for completely human, which was odd because much of his genealogy actually came from sharks. Dove was, however not one to question that.
Besides, any wider a smile and you could actually see his teeth and realize that no, he wasn't quite human.
"It's alright, you were just helpin out." Shockwave sounded so casual, and it wasn't hard to see why. In spite of the shark genes, he was docile as could be, much preferring to be with the Decepticons rather than hunt fish, or people.
Oracle's face turned a bizarre shade of blue and he squeaked out a response before rounding the corner and disappearing into the kitchen.
"Cute kid." Dove said with the tiniest of smirks.
"Shockwave's. That's why." Soundwave retorted with a grin of his own.
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Arthur contre Lancelot
La relation entre Arthur et Lancelot est assez intéressante, alliés au début ayant le même but, le graal. Bien qu'amis, Lancelot est attiré par Guenièvre, la femme d'Arthur. Et la quête de Graal, Lancelot croit que la quête du Graal est réservé à l'élite tandis qu'Arthur veut laisser une chance aux autres. Bien qu'il soit souvent blasé par les actes de ses chevaliers. La distance commence petit à petit à se montrer jusqu'à ce que Lancelot quitte le château laissant un Arthur en colère se défoulant un peu sur Bohort. Alors que Lancelot est dans la forêt alors qu'Arthur se rapproche de Mevanwi jusqu'à ce que Guenièvre découvre le pot aux roses. Voir l'attitude d'Arthur lorsqu'elle découvre qu'il est avec la femme d'un chevalier, elle décide de partir pour rejoindre Lancelot. Arthur n'était pas des plus sympas avec elle et la traitait d'idiote. Il faut dire qu'avant Guenièvre ne semblait pas faire grand chose de son statue de reine. Elle appréciait les maîtresses d'Arthur et sa famille. Mais à part Bohort, je me souviens pas l'avoir vu parler à d'autres chevaliers. Elle ne quittait pas non plus le château donc peu d'activités, il faut dire que cette relation ne commençait pas bien entre ces deux là.
Avec Lancelot, elle pense qu'elle pourra enfin être libre et faire ce qu'elle veut sauf que Lancelot s'est préserver en attendant ce jour. Bref, Lancelot a sa petite communauté et Karadoc qui souhaite récupérer Guenièvre en vain. Et au début ça semblait bien se passer entre Arthur et Mevanwi, Arthur semblait heureux mais au bout d'un moment quand Mevanwi la réveille pour faire son rôle de reine. Arthur semble lasser et lorsqu'il va voir père Blaise avec Karadoc pour annuler l'échange d'épouses. Il accepte et vient voir Mevanwi pour lui dire que les dieux n'aiment pas leur histoire et finit par retrouver Guenièvre qui est attachée au lit de Lancelot car ce dernier pense qu'elle va partir. La relation entre ces deux là est un peu triste, car elle l'aime sincèrement même si Arthur ne peut pas rendre cet amour suite à une promesse faite à Aconia. Guenièvre lui demande ce qu'il va faire d'elle, il lui propose d'être reine de Bretagne, elle lui demande si il va pas regretter, il répond qu'il regrette déjà par un petit sourire.
C'est alors que la scène où se rend compte qu'il y a plus personne ainsi que la femme qu'il aime ajoutant à la scène de l'adoubement de Perceval. C'est alors que Méléagant arrive lui expliquant que c'est pas encore l'heure car c'est le solstice d'été et de se réjouir des longues nuits. Dans les montagnes enneigés à l'écart de tous, Méléageant sert de "guide" dans le développement de Lancelot, il le félicite d'avoir trouvé un endroit aussi déprimant alors qu'il allait se trancher la gorge. Il n'avait plus rien du coup c'était parfait pour le manipuler. Vu qu'il rodait déjà devant son camp mais ne pouvait pas l'approcher. Il lui raconte qu'Arthur a replanté l'épée dans le rocher mais de ne pas y aller car il n'est pas l'élu des dieux contrairement à Arthur. Il ramène la dame du lac, lui disant qu'il l'emmènerait dans un château. Sauf que c'est une ruse pour remémorer à Lancelot que la Dame du Lac s'est occupée de lui quand il était encore tout petit. Mais que les dieux ont choisi Arthur au lieu que ce soit lui. La blâmant pour la défaite d'Arthur pour sa quête du Graal montrant que les dieux ont abandonné le roi.
Face à cette révélation, elle lui demande qui il est et lui dit qu'il est la réponse ce qui terrifie cette dernière. Peu après, Méléageant lui demande de tuer un voyageur, ce dernier se révèle être Lionel de Gaunes, le frère de Bohort. Lancelot refuse car il est son cousin ce que Méléagant répond qu'il doit se débarrasser de ces anciennes valeurs. Plus tard, Méléagant lui apporte un pantin d'Arthur, il dit qu'elle est ensorcelé pour que ce qui lui arrive se reporte sur le roi. Lancelot refuse mais suite à l'insistance de son "guide", il finit par la jeter dans le feu demandant si il est mort. Il lui répond que non, il a menti mais qu'il est prêt. Méléagant a soigneusement préparer Lancelot, le mettre à l'écart pour que les autres croient qu'il est mort et ne pense pas faire davantage de recherches. Découvrir un souvenir de son passé pour blâmer les dieux mais aussi nourrir la haine envers Arthur. Tenter de tuer un membre de famille bien qu'il ne l'ait pas fait, pour laissé un Lancelot seule mais sans possibilité de retrouver la personne qu'il était avant. Et enfin le pantin dans lequel il refuse de tuer la personne qu'il déteste mais qu'il finira par le faire. Lancelot se prépare et le met en garde de ne pas avoir un excès de confiance mais il ne l'écoute pas.
Alors qu'il s'y rend, ce dernier se fait intercepté puis tirer par une flèche de mémoire c'était Lionel qui lui avait tiré dessus alors que Bohort lui avait dit d'attendre. Lancelot se retrouve blessé, la dame du Lac le retrouve et lui parle d'une comptine pour soigner les blessures. Il veut qu'elle l'aide mais elle ne le fait pas car elle supporte pas le sang. Il tente de s'en souvenir en répétant et au final, il finit par utiliser la magie blanche. Méléagant semble être déçu s'excusant parce qu'il croyait l'aider tandis que Lancelot s'excuse d'avoir utilisé la magie blanche. Il lui dit que ce qu'il l'intéresse c'est leur sabordage et laisse Lancelot. Il crie alors qu'il tuera Arthur et qu'il sera fier de lui. Lancelot disait que la quête du graal est réservé à l'élite voulant faire ses preuves mais que ce n'est jamais assez. Voulant trouver la reconnaissance qu'il n'a pas eu enfant quand il crie "Vous serez fier de moi" à Méléagant. J'ai l'impression d'entendre un enfant voulant à tout prix impressionner son père. Sauf que Méléagant n'a rien avoir avec un bon père, il l'a isolé pour le préparer. Je m'étais demandé si au final, il ne l'a pas justement préparé pour qu'il soit tué par Arthur et sans reconnaissance. Lui faisant croire qu'il est de son côté pour qu'au final, il l'aide à préparer sa chute. Ça collerait à Méléagant qui n'est intéressé que par leurs sabordages.
Pendant ce temps, Arthur, suite aux évènements du livre IV, au sujet du roi Loth qui l'a poignardé dans le dos mais refuse que l'un des enfants, Gauvain, paie pour les actes de son père. Cependant ça ne suffit pas, Mevanwi veut retrouver sa place de reine et Arthur se dit qu'il va replanter l'épée dans le rocher comme pour essayer d'échapper à ce que les dieux veulent de lui. Les gens essaient en vain et Arthur n'est toujours pas décidé à le retirer, Karadoc est tenté alors que Perceval refuse de la retirer alors qu'il serait capable de le faire. Mais pour lui, le seul roi c'est Arthur. Bohort, c'est lui qu'il a juré fidélité alors que ce dernier pourrait l'épée. Celui ci ment et dit qu'il peut pas le retirer sous l'étonnement de Bohort et de Léodagan. Léodagan semble avoir reprit le pouvoir Arthur est de plus en plus lassé et Guenièvre lui parle alors des maîtresses mais aussi qu'une progéniture caché à travers le pays. C'est alors qu'il décide de partir pour les retrouver avec Guenièvre. C'est là que je trouve que la relation apporte quelque chose de plus positif, Guenièvre est là pour lui et est émerveillé par ce qui l'entoure et Arthur qui ne cherche que ses enfants.
Dans sa quête, il retrouve Anna, sa demi soeur qui tente de le tuer avec l'aide de Loth mais est sauvé grâce à Guenièvre qui les frappe. Ils s'en vont et Guenièvre est blessée et du coup Arthur fait son voyage seul. Dans son chemin, Venec avec sa bande et veut se battre alors que Venec l'appelle "Sir" il lui répond qu'il n'est plus roi. Suite à cette petit confrontation, il rencontre un homme vivant dans un phare, attendant la venue d'un enfant qui ne viendra jamais mais dont le père l'attend toujours. Méléagant arrive faisant de son trajet difficile et éprouvant arrive le cirque où on dirait que ça semble hors du temps. Un moment de calme avant la tempête, dans la scène du berger qui s'occupe de ses agneaux mais du coup Arthur devient la bête dans ce spectacle. Après le rugissement de Méléagant, Arthur se retourne vers lui, le masque du loup toujours sa tête. Arthur au début, était le berger qui guidait son royaume et ses chevaliers mais en mentant sur le fait qu'il peut pas retirer l'épée sur le rocher. Il est devenu le garçon qui criait au loup. Peu après, il retrouve une vieille connaissance et suite à un tour de Méléagant, il apprend qu'il est stérile. Dévasté par la nouvelle, il est fatigué et est au 36ème dessous même si Guenièvre lui coule un bain. C'est dans ce bain qu'il met fin à ses jours alors que Lancelot fait face à Guenièvre et Bohort, son amour perdu et un membre de sa famille. Mais en le voyant dans son bain celui ci s'était coupé les veines pour en finir. Lancelot le sauve en utilisant la magie blanche alors à ce moment j'avoue que je l'avais pas vu. Car j'étais en train de pleurer lors de cette scène.
Arrive la scène où Lancelot rend visite à Arthur, il parle du fait qu'ils avaient le même but à ce moment là il lui propos de recommencer à zéro. Arthur lui lègue les pleins pouvoirs car il n'a plus la volonté ni la force de diriger son royaume. Lancelot s'en va et parle à Méléagant du fait qu'il a les pleins pouvoirs mais il reste une dernière chose à faire, se débarrasser de la forteresse de Kaamelott, de la table ronde ainsi que des chevaliers. Faisant table rase une bonne fois pour toute du règne d'Arthur. Arthur réussit à s'enfuir grâce à l'aide de Vennec et retourne à Rome à la maison où il était avec Aconia. Dans le film, on retrouve Arthur qui ne veut pas être roi mais voit et entend ce qu'a fait Lancelot. Lancelot de son côté, continue de chercher Arthur devenant une obsession, son règne est tyrannique alors que les paysans en paient le prix fort ainsi que certains nobles. Et que les chevaliers sont traqués et malgré la résistance mise en place. Lancelot lègue à deux mercenaires, une terre ce que n'approuve pas les dieux. Marié à Mevanwi, il peut pas le consumer à cause de Guenièvre qu'il aime toujours obsessionnellement. La gardant dans sa tour comme un jouet qu'on aurait trop peur de casser à ce moment là Lancelot a un côté un peu plus vulnérable.
Car il veut pas la laisser partir en essayant de lui donner le confort mais Guenièvre veut sa liberté ce que Lancelot refuse. Quand Arthur se fait capturer, Lancelot hésite à le tuer malgré que le conseil semble être pour. De plus il voit aussi les Burgondes qui veulent l'envahir mais c'est plus montrer manière comique. Et je trouve que cette scène aurait très bien pu se passer Lancelot, Lancelot ne dit pas grand chose à ce sujet. Donc qu'il soit là ou non, ça aurait rien changer, ce n'est que lorsque les Burgondes s'allie à Selie et la résistance que l'attaque est prise au sérieux. Arthur affronte Lancelot lui disant que c'est lui qui a ordonné l'attaque. Tenant Excalibur, elle brille d'une lumière bleue et attaque Lancelot lors du combat on voit que le tonnerre gronde, les nuages s'assombrissent.
Lancelot est à terre à la merci d'Arthur. Il pourrait le tuer et à ce moment là, suivre ce que les dieux veulent qu'il soit mais lors du flashback montrant qu'il tue quelqu'un de dos suite à la mort d'une personne qu'il aime. Il ne le fait ce en quoi Lancelot le traite d'incapable, c'est intéressant et in character car en soit Lancelot l'a sauvé dans le bain. Il aurait pu ne pas le faire mais il l'a fait et Arthur en a marre de suivre ce que les dieux veulent de lui. Peut être qu'il y a une petite partie de lui qui tient encore à Lancelot. Sans compter que la scène où il s'allonge sur la table regardant les cicatrice de sa tentative de suicide, laissant penser qu'il y songe encore d'en finir. Il y a une légende comme quoi Arthur aurait légué les pleins pouvoirs à Lancelot personne ne semble y croire. Et j'ai hâte de voir la réaction des autres quand ils se rendront compte que c'est vrai. Quand à Lancelot, on le voit retourner à la tour montrant son père ou bien c'est un dieu ainsi que le retour de Méléagant. Donc qu'est ce que Lancelot va faire ? Va-t-il de nouveau traquer Arthur ? Va-t-il chercher le Graal seule cette fois ? Ou bien ce serait autre chose ?
J'aime beaucoup la relation entre Lancelot et Arthur qui est à la fois complexe et tragique. Je suis pas sûre que tuer Lancelot résoudra l'histoire peut être qu'Arthur et Lancelot se rebelleront contre les dieux et Méléagant ou bien va-t-il se passer autre chose ? Je ne sais pas mais je suis curieuse de voir la suite.
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Most of the really bad pick up lines I've gotten were horse related - like 'any other places you can ride like', 'i wouldn't mind taking you for a ride with hips like that' and any other variation of that, but what took the cake was when someone said he'd like to 'rein me in' ...💀 Also some (old) people give really strange compliments but they're not pick up lines (I HOPE)
One bad pick up line that actually worked for longer than it should have was someone coming up to be at a bar convinced I was someone else he knew from school and I said no and he was like "are you sure you didn't go to XXX/ live in XXX?" And I said no I'm from YYY and since he was really nice we stayed talking...my cousin later enlightened me that that is a pick up line too
Horse pick up lines?? Never heard any of those before. However, I have encountered the "mistaken identity" ruse. I may have even used this once myself. 🙈 I find this the least offensive bc the person is usually just shy and looking for a way to approach you that isn't sleazy. (Perhaps that's a justification for why I did it tho 🤣)
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Luc 21:36
Veillez donc et priez en tout temps, afin que vous ayez la force d'échapper à toutes ces choses qui arriveront, et de paraître debout devant le Fils de l'homme.
Éphésiens 6
…12Car nous n'avons pas à lutter contre la chair et le sang, mais contre les dominations, contre les autorités, contre les princes de ce monde de ténèbres, contre les esprits méchants dans les lieux célestes. 13C'est pourquoi, prenez toutes les armes de Dieu, afin de pouvoir résister dans le mauvais jour, et tenir ferme après avoir tout surmonté. 14Tenez donc ferme: ayez à vos reins la vérité pour ceinture; revêtez la cuirasse de la justice;…..
18Faites en tout temps par l'Esprit toutes sortes de prières et de supplications. Veillez à cela avec une entière persévérance, et priez pour tous les saints.
Romains 13:12
La nuit est avancée, le jour approche. Dépouillons-nous donc des oeuvres des ténèbres, et revêtons les armes de la lumière.
Éphésiens 5:16
rachetez le temps, car les jours sont mauvais.
Éphésiens 6:11
Revêtez-vous de toutes les armes de Dieu, afin de pouvoir tenir ferme contre les ruses du diable.
Jacques 4:7
Soumettez-vous donc à Dieu; résistez au diable, et il fuira loin de vous.
1 Pierre 4:1
Ainsi donc, Christ ayant souffert dans la chair, vous aussi armez-vous de la même pensée. Car celui qui a souffert dans la chair en a fini avec le péché,
Amen, soyez bénis dans le précieux nom de Jésus-Christ 🙏✝️🔥♥️
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Corvus figured out the lemon drizzle cake was a ruse. Mind reading, man. He said if I wanted to get away from him so badly he'd oblige, so now I've been told that I'll be getting "decorum lessons" from Ilya once we're back on shore. I may have reaaalllly fucked up this time. (Also, fun fact from the last few days: rope burns and seawater are a very bad combination)
UH, oh boy.
Alright, so you have a 'spot' on your permanent record with Corvus. Do not plan on him ever letting that go. You are now a 'little liar' even when you are telling the truth-- and especially when you catch him lying. He already knew you wanted out (he's not stupid, but he will certainly act offended) so seriously, we wary of any chances that seem far too convenient.
Decorum lessons with Ilya go... not well, if I know him like I think I do. He will examine your behavior-- meaning he will sit and watch you for an hour and see how you handle yourself in unnerving silence as well as light questioning with extremely uncomfortable questions. You will get no feedback. Only 'Hmm' and 'Ah.'
That is the most peaceful session and it will leave you feeling... violated without being violated, somehow.
You will then be expected to meet him at least once a day (at his convenience, whether it is buttfuck early in the morning or ungodly late - usually whichever inconveniences you most and doesn't interfere with the schedule.)
It is not so much decorum lessons as it is 'obedience' lessons. Very nice of Corvus to allow him to take the reins. Well, nice for Ilya, certainly not for you.
See, their idea of decorum for you is perfect, unquestioning, adoring obedience. Unfortunately for you, this also bores almost 3/4 of them-- and almost bores all of them except Corvus actually loves it on occasion until he doesn't-- so you can expect it to be anything other than actual etiquette school. You will be taught how to 'behave' but it... won't quite be what you expect. It's worse. Trust me.
(And if you've ever been to etiquette school, you know how fucking awful that is.)
Ilya masters in getting what he wants and coaxing out behavior he desires without outright saying it. He can trick you into doing things you'd never do-- or he can deliberately goad you into acting out, if that's his end goal. Don't look for rhyme or reason. There won't be any. If he wanted to make you perfectly obedient, he could, but trust me, that's not what he's after.
'Decorum lessons' are an... experience, to be certain.
As for the rope burn and sea water, you might be able to trick Asto into using a healing potion if you can convince him it will make you taste bad. Reaver might be easier though if you tell him you think Corvus is doing it intentionally to piss off Reaver in specific.
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Voilà j'ai fini de lire Agatha Christie - La Mystérieuse Affaire de Styles
J'ai commencé Arsène Lupin, gentleman cambrioleur de Maurice Leblanc. Dedans, il y a la suite c'est-à-dire Les confidences d'Arsène Lupin.
Je dois dire que j'étais assez sceptique de lire ça mais ça va je suis sûre qu'après je vais adorer. Après, c'est un roman policier avec des nouvelles dedans donc je verrais bien
Petit résumé d'Arsène Lupin
Arsène Lupin est un personnage de fiction français créé par Maurice Leblanc. Ce gentleman cambrioleur est particulièrement connu pour son talent à user de déguisements, à se grimer et à prendre des identités multiples pour commettre ses délits et résoudre des énigmes criminelles.
Contenu du recueil
Il regroupe les nouvelles suivantes :
L'Arrestation d'Arsène Lupin, publication initiale dans Je sais tout no 6, 15 juillet 1905. Ce récit est un huis-clos se déroulant à bord du transatlantique La Provence. Au cours de la traversée, un télégramme révèle qu'Arsène Lupin se trouve parmi les passagers.
Arsène Lupin en prison, publication initiale dans Je sais tout no 11, 15 décembre 1905, sous le titre La Vie extraordinaire d'Arsène Lupin en prison. Alors qu'il est incarcéré à la prison de la Santé, Arsène Lupin organise le cambriolage d'une collection d'art inestimable.
L'Évasion d'Arsène Lupin, publication initiale dans Je sais tout no 12, 15 janvier 1906, sous le titre La Vie extraordinaire d'Arsène Lupin : L'Évasion d'Arsène Lupin. Par une incroyable ruse, Arsène Lupin parvient à s'évader de la prison de la Santé.
Le Mystérieux Voyageur, publication initiale dans Je sais tout no 13, 15 février 1906, sous le titre La Vie extraordinaire d'Arsène Lupin : Le Mystérieux Voyageur
Le Collier de la reine, publication initiale dans Je sais tout no 15, 15 avril 1906, sous le titre La Vie extraordinaire d'Arsène Lupin : Le Collier de la reine. Ce récit tourne autour du vol du collier de la Reine des Dreux-Soubise, et donne forme à l'enfance d'Arsène Lupin.
Le Coffre-fort de madame Imbert2, publication initiale dans Je sais tout no 16, 15 mai 1906, sous le titre La Vie extraordinaire d'Arsène Lupin : Le Coffre-fort de madame Imbert
Sherlock Holmès arrive trop tard, publication initiale dans Je sais tout no 17, 15 juin 1906, sous le titre La Vie extraordinaire d'Arsène Lupin : Sherlock Holmes arrive trop tard – Noter qu'entre la publication dans le périodique et la publication en recueil, Sherlock Holmes est devenu Herlock Sholmès, à la suite d'une protestation de Conan Doyle, « père du vrai Sherlock Holmes »
La Perle noire, publication initiale dans Je sais tout no 18, 15 juillet 1906, sous le titre La Vie extraordinaire d'Arsène Lupin : La Perle noire
Le Sept de cœur, publication initiale dans Je sais tout no 28, 15 mai 1907, sous le titre Comment j'ai connu Arsène Lupin : Le Sept de cœur. Le narrateur, journaliste, se voit mêlé par hasard à une affaire d'espionnage militaire.
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Un monde fou va me quitter
Porte-avions US
Dans la Méditerranée est
Mare Nostrum
Ce n'est plus l'empire romain
Mais terre-air-mer
TNT l'empire américain
Vénus sa reine de beauté
Un Dark Vador parrain en or
Humour Science-friction
En Télémaque le maquereau
Il actionne le bout boutonneux de son poireau
Prévoyant un débarquement
Dans les tripes de Lacan les provoquant
En alien boboïsant
Et en homme unidimensionnel
Century Fox
Marcuse il ruse
Dimanche 15 octobre 2023
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Harmony amid Chaos Theorycraft
Finally, the highly anticipated third Three Houses banner, here to mark the end of March 2020, the start of the dystopian nightmare we called the pandemic. It even has such a fitting title, Harmony amid Chaos. Did you know “amid” isn't capitalized because it’s preposition with four letters? Now you do.
These heroes would go on to be well used by their fans, but I bet they were dumped and replaced with their later competition or their future alts once they came around, with one exception. I’ll go through each of these students from the Officers Academy at Garreg Mach Monastery, and predict a fitting refine for each.
Bernadetta: Eternal Loner
Lvl 40 5 ☆ 38/32/38/22/26 Max Invest* 47/41/47/30/34
Persecution Bow: Effective against flying foes. Grants Atk+3. At start of combat, if [Penalty] is active on unit or if unit's HP < 100%, grants Atk/Spd+5 during combat, and if unit initiates combat, unit can make a follow-up attack before foe can counterattack.
Ardent Sacrifice - Atk/Spd Push 4 - Lull Spd/Def 3 - Close Guard 3
It’s Bernie’s time to shine! Persecution bow plays off Bernadette’s personal skill, which grants bonus effects with she has at least 1 damage, in this case, it’s Atk/Spd+5 and Desperation. Bernie comes with a Push skill and Ardent Sacrifice, so she can hurt herself, but that not as easy as just being above 25% Hp, like Arcane Darkbow.
Bernie also had two alts. One is her winter alt that fixed the above issue by hurting herself, and her allies, at the start of the turn. She then swapped Desperation with 30% damage reduction. This helped as a counter to many “If foe is at 100% Hp,” conditions, in perf weapons which faded out with refines, but is skill used in Catch skills. The second advantage came from using new positional healing assists from healers to make the Ai move the injured ally closer to the enemy for devilish Aether Raid defense teams. Spring Bernie had this same effect, but added Accelerate Special Trigger, NFU, Null-Guard, and Spd/Def penalties based on how many spaces moved, which was helped by the new Escape Route 4. So, enough talk, what’s the upgrade.
Effective against flying foes. Grants Atk+3. At start of turn, if unit’s HP = 100% and unit is within 2 spaces of an ally, deals 1 damage to unit and allies within 2 spaces of unit. At start of combat, if [Penalty] is active on unit or if unit's HP <= 99%, grants Atk/Spd+5 during combat, and if unit initiates combat, unit can make a follow-up attack before foe can counterattack.
Enable [Canto (1)] Accelerates Special trigger (cooldown count-1). If unit initiates combat or within a 2 tile radius of an ally, grants Atk/Spd+5 during combat and neutralizes effects that prevent unit’s follow-up attacks during combat, and also, if unit’s Spd > foe’s Spd, neutralizes effects that inflict “Special cooldown charge -X” on unit during combat.
The first part of the weapon matches the new perfs she has, while leaving the [Penalty] condition. The second gives her Canto 1, AS, Null-Follow-Up, and Null-Guard for a weapon that’s better than Arcane Darkbow. The one thing left out was its Penalty negation, which doesn’t fix Bernie’s style anyway. Plus, Grand Strategy is meta.
Annette: Overachiever
Lvl 40 5 ☆ 40/39/36/28/30 Max Invest* 49/48/45/36/38
Crusher: Grants Atk+3. Calculates damage using the lower of foe's Def or Res. If a Rally Assist skill is used by unit, target can move 1 extra space. (That turn only. Does not stack. No effect on cavalry allies with Range = 2.)
Rally Atk/Spd+ - Def/Res Ruse 3 - Atk/Def Gap 3
Ta da! A net! This might be the one a fore mention exemption to the power creep. Annette’s ability to Rally movement is incredible, so she provides utility without investing in stats. As a bonus, she gets adaptive damage with no condition. Well, these were unique, we now have two inheritable skills that can do her job. S/D Rein Snap can provide Movement to the unit, melee infantry allies, and armored allies, without needing to Rally at all. Atk/Spd Hexblade grants adaptive damage if the unit is near a magic unit at the start of turn, much better than the original. So, what do I do?
Crusher: Grants Atk+3. Calculates damage using the lower of foe's Def or Res. If a Rally Assist skill is used by unit, grant target “if unit initiate combat, unit makes a guaranteed follow-up attack”, “Special Cooldown Charge +1 per attack,” and unit can move 1 extra space (That turn only. Does not stack.) At start of combat, if unit's HP ≥ 25%, grants Atk/Spd/Def/Res+4 to unit during combat.
Ta da again! I decided, if you are rallying a unit to have 1 additional movement, you would be rallying a Galeforce ally if you had one. So here are two things a Galeforce unit needs (instead of Triangle Adapt or Dual Strike), two hits that grant two cooldown. You also need AS but everybody got that, and if you don’t, the foe might counterattack you for two cooldown, then just one more hit does it. This is best for units that have all the Atk and true damage, and none of the Spd. I also removed the restriction of movement buff to mage and bow cavs. We may not have a readily available extra movement skill for them yet, but there is one way they can get the buff, and that’s with L!Sigurd and the brand new Tea Time! Sigurd, who is himself a mage cav. And like, you have to use up Annette’s turn to rally, compared to Sigurd needs to attack a foe (the new version doesn’t even need to live the combat).
If unit is within 3 spaces of an ally, grants Atk/Spd/Def/Res +X to unit (X = 4 + highest bonus on each stat between unit and allies within 3 spaces of unit; calculates each stat bonus independently), reduces damage from foe's first attack by 30%, and grant damage equal to X% of foe's Atk (if foe uses breath or beast, X = 20; otherwise, X = 10; including when dealing damage with a Special triggered before combat), and after combat, inflict inflicts Def/Res-5 and [Guard] on target and nearest foes within a 3 tile radius.
And now for the “combat” part of the refine. If you didn’t know, Crusher is a relic weapon, and crest barriers like Annette can use their relic weapons for unique combat art, in this case, Dust. This increases the damage, is effective against dragons, and inflicts Def-5 on foe. In my case, Annette is getting true damage based on foe’s Atk, with an increase if they are a dragon or beast, just like Ruptured Sky. This then inflicts Def/Res-5 and [Guard] to all targets, just so other allies can clean up. She also has 30% damage reduction on first hit to keep her alive.
Ferdinand: Noblest of Nobles
Lvl 40 5 ☆ 41/32/35/30/24 Max Invest* 50/41/44/38/32
Vanguard+: If foe initiates combat, grants Def+7 during combat.
Reposition - Fortress Def 3 - Rouse Spd/Def 3
He is Ferdinand von Aegir, and he just so happens to get a new alt in the Teatime Banner. It’s a green mage flier with an inheritable tome, but there is still one little thing to this kit that stands out to be uniquely Ferdinand. As for this normal version, it’s a balanced lance caviler with skills and an inheritable weapon that grants more Def, to resist the enemy. This was before Canto was introduced, so he needed this to stay alive when in enemy range. The Rouse Spd/Def was also nice. Alright, enough stalling.
Ferdinand von Lance: If foe initiates combat or foe's HP ≥ 75%, Grant Atk/Spd/Def/Res+4 to unit during combat, unit makes a guaranteed follow-up attack, foe cannot make a follow-up attack, and also, if unit’s Spd > foe’s Spd, neutralizes effects that prevent unit's follow-up attacks.
This is the Ferdinand von Lance. Continuing with the defensive theme, he has the enemy phase standard condition for the usual +4, omni breaker, and a Spd check to get null follow-up on both phases. This would be a good combination with Windsweep, which Teatime! Ferdinand has. But what if we go further.
At start of combat, if unit's HP ≥ 75% or if [Bonus] is active on unit, grants Atk/Spd/Def/Res+4 to unit during combat, increase damage by 15% of unit's Spd, and reduce damage by 15% of unit's Def, and also, if unit’s Spd > foe’s Spd, and foe cannot counterattack.
Ferddie's personal skill happens to trigger when he is full health, so I gave him a condition similar to the ideal skills, which he can’t inherit. Additionally, he comes with Rouse, so he can get bonuses on his own. With this, he gets +8 in total, true damage base on Spd (about 7), true damage reduction based on Def (about 7), and a Spd check to get the foe to not counterattack. This effect mirrors his crest power, that prevents foe from counterattack when performing a combat art. Well, that will do. Shout out to Ricco Fajardo for taking the mantel of Billy Kametz. They are big shoes to fill.
Lysithea: Child Prodigy
Lvl 40 5 ☆ 38/42/40/19/23 Max Invest* 46/50/46/29/32
Hades Ω: Accelerates Special trigger (cooldown count-1). If unit initiates combat, grants Atk/Spd+4 during combat, and if unit's Special is ready, grants an additional Atk+6 during combat.
Moonbow – Death Blow 4 – Lull Spd/Res 3 – Time's Pulse 3
Now, Lysithea is the final hero of the banner. Lysithea was in a very lucky predicament where she was very popular, not in heroes for the first two banner, and CYL voting happened, and well, she won CYL4 alongside the three house leaders, before getting in normally. It was the same Feh channel that announced the winners that we got a teaser of Lyithea, as her banner was coming that following month. So we had two Lysitheas in a year. Brave Lyithea, as you know, was the horse slaying, two tapping, desperation nuke, while this Lysithea was just the one tap nuke. She does this with Death Blow 4, Lull Spd/Res, and Time’s Pulse, to precharge her special and get the additional Atk. Well, here’s how we make her nuke in one hit.
Hades Ω: Accelerates Special trigger (cooldown count-1). If unit initiates combat or is within 2 tile radius of an ally, grants Atk/Spd+6 during combat, neutralizes effects that inflict “Special Cooldown -X” on unit, and also, if unit's Special is ready or unit's Special triggered before or during this combat, deals +7 damage during combat. (Except when dealing damage with area-of-effect Specials.)
We are giving her the Null-Guard and change the pre-charge special to that of the Finish skills, so that she can use higher cost Specials to nuke with the follow-up skill, if the player desires. The next part, I’m not to sure about. Like Ferddie, Lysithia was on the Teatime banner. Unlike Ferddie thou, she came with a perf weapon and brand-new perf skill, Mastermaid . . . uh - Mastermind. So I can add that to second part of the refine. But what else? NFU would be good, but Magic NFU is a great skill to inherit, and some may have already done that. Specials that Nullify DR would be great, but how many people inherited Special Spiral 4. And Warp? The Oath 4 skills have that. No, if I’m just copying and pasting Mastermind, she needs to apply bonuses and penalties.
At start of turn, deals 1 damage to unit. At start of turn, if unit is within 2 spaces of an ally or a foe, inflicts Atk/Spd-6 on nearest foes within 4 spaces of unit and foes within 2 spaces of those foes through their next actions, and grants Atk/Spd+6 to unit and allies within 2 spaces of unit for 1 turn. If unit is within 3 spaces of an ally, grants Atk/Spd+4 to unit during combat and deals damage = X + Y (X = 80% of highest total bonuses among unit and allies within 2 spaces of unit; Y = 80% of highest total penalties among target and foes within 2 spaces of target; excluding area-of-effect Specials).
And this is what we are doing. Lysithea is going to have a modified Atk/Spd Menace that grants bonuses to her allies, to ensure the 9 true damage she gets from the highest total bonuses among her team. She gets another 9 from foe’s penalties. The difference between her and the new alt is the Res bonuses are swapped with Atk bonuses, and no [Sabotage]. This means she and her allies can take reduced damage from physical or magical foes, while still dealing more damage herself. The other way worked better on mage teams.
And with the end of the banner, we are not ending this blog.
Flame Emperor: Bringer of War
Lvl 40 5 ☆ 50/40/25/37/26 Max Invest* 59/49/33/46/34
Guard Axe+: Inflicts Special cooldown charge -1 on foe per attack during combat. (Only highest value applied. Does not stack.)
Ignis – Bracing Stance 2 – Wary Fighter 3
Fun time is over. It’s Flame Emperor time. This mid-game boss is here as an easy axe armor unit for new players to invest in but doesn’t give much in personality or uniqueness. They have an inheritable axe, that provides an unconditional Guard effect, but with Protection Pike, you get extra Atk/Def and Guard just by being near an ally, and that’s all tanks are good for. Also, Murdok is in the game as the newest Axe armor GHB unit, and he comes with a perf weapon, with distant counter no less. Well, here we go.
Flame Axe: Unit can counterattack regardless of foe's range. If foe initiates combat or foe's HP ≥ 75% at start of combat, inflicts Atk/Def-X on foe (X = 12 - current penalty on foe's Atk; min 6) and Special cooldown charge -1 on foe per attack. Inflicts Atk/Def-6 on foe through its next action after combat.
Wow, what do you know, the Flame Emperor had the Distant counter skill in three houses, along with Seal Str and Seal Mag. Might as well put those skills in here weapon, along with in combat penalties for when those skills aren’t there, and Guard for extra measures.
At start of combat, if unit's HP ≥ 25% or the number of foes within 2 spaces of unit (excluding target) ≥ the number of allies within 2 spaces of unit (excluding unit), inflicts Atk/Def-6 on foe, deals damage = 10% of unit's Atk (including when dealing damage with a Special triggered before combat), and restores 7 HP to unit when unit deals damage to foe during combat (triggers even if 0 damage is dealt)
And now, here’s some more Atk/Def-6, some extra damage based on Atk, and 7 healing per hit, just for spice. That condition looks familiar and so does the effect. Did the Flame Emperor have a crest like these other units or-oh yep, Crest of Flame. Huh, I wonder who could be under that mask.
*The max investment was calculated with +10 Merges and all levels of dragonflowers using my own personal spreadsheet. As the dragonflowers count is rising with CYL7, I checked my formulas and found the last handful was 5 levels short, no doubt since all units since CYL3. For now, these units have 20 Dragonflowers, but as of posting this blog, and for future blogs going further, it will be 25. Sorry for the inconvenience.
Alright, time to write for CYL7 cuz OH GOD! Like and subscribe.
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[D. What is this permanent danger which, having appeared at the dawn of their psychological life, will constantly loom over their universe? - cont'd]
[1. A little girl of about ten commits theft: she seizes a stick of chocolate under the eyes of the saleswoman - cont'd]
b. Between these two behaviors [vis.,
desire for affection
guilt reactions
], the symptom will appear as a compromise:
the child will give free rein to their need for affection by committing the theft
but they will release their tendencies to guilt, by committing it in such a way that they are surprised
The clumsy flight behavior reveals itself as a driving skill; their coarseness is a ruse:
a compromise between two contradictory tendencies
a way of dominating a conflict
The pathological mechanism is therefore protection against a conflict, defense in the face of the contradiction it arouses.
– Michel Foucault, Maladie mentale et personnalité, (Chapter 3: Illness and Individual History), Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1954
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Tyana Romanov (Svarowski)
"A lot of people want to kill me. I take great pride in that."
- Tyana Malia Svarowski, née Tyana Elvin Svetlana Aleksandrina Romanov
- Née le 6 décembre 2007
- Originals
- Russe
- Sang-Pur
- Lesbienne
- A étudié à domicile
- Reine, puis professeure de Défense Contre les Forces du Mal à Runstone (à partir de 2028)
- Adélaïde Kane.
~ Fille de Marek et Svetlana Romanov, née Ivanov~ Nièce de Vladimir Romanov
~ Nièce par alliance de Sonia Romanov, née Vavilov
~ Cousine de Vilma et Nikolaï Romanov
~ Petite-fille de Sergeï et d'Aleksandrina Romanov, née Bognav (côté paternel)
* Ancienne petite-amie de Malia Svarowski, décédée
*Ancienne épouse et meilleure amie d'Erwin Nightingal (ils furent officiellement mariés une nuit avant qu'elle ne soit déclarée morte)
Les Romanov étaient une éminente famille royale de Sang-Pur, qui gouverna l'Empire Russe Magique du dixième au vingt-et-unième siècle. Vers le dix-septième siècle, Michel Romanov III, un Cracmol, étendit le pouvoir de sa lignée au monde moldu en prenant le pouvoir de l'Empire Russe Moldu. Ainsi, pendant trois cents ans, les Romanov furent au pouvoir de toute la Russie, sorcière et moldues. Ils furent nombreux à entrer dans l'histoire, à la fois par des légendes magiques chez les sorciers et par des combats épiques chez les Moldus. Les Romanov étaient respectés et connus de tous. Ils vivaient dans un somptueux et immense manoir sur la lande, à L'Est.
Tyana Romanov, troisième du nom, naquit avec le poids d'un destin très lourd sur ses épaules. Ses ancêtres étaient des tsars, des druides, des mages... Elle a toujours grandi dans le luxe, l'opulence et la royauté. Elle est destinée à régner plus tard, étant la seule héritière - ses parents ne réussirent plus à avoir d'enfants après Tyana. Le peuple russe sorcier ne faisait aucune différence entre les garçons et les filles concernant le trône. Mais à côté de ça, son enfance fut perpétuellement froide et solitaire. L'éducation de la fillette fut très stricte et dure.
Il fallait qu'elle soit parfaite.
Depuis sa naissance, Tyana fut préparée à devenir une reine. Son esprit fut formaté, elle fut manipulée par sa famille, devint leur parfait pantin. Tout ce qui comptait pour elle était de faire ses preuves auprès des Romanov, et d'être digne de leur nom. La fille du tsar suivit toujours les chemins tracés pour elle.
A l'âge de quinze ans, Tyana tomba amoureuse de la fille de l'un des domestiques, Malia Svarowski. Au départ, la brune fut horrifiée par ces sentiments, qu'elle refoula le plus possible, les pensant anormaux. Mais Malia lui confia un jour qu'elle les partageait. Dès lors, Tyana eut moins peur. Aux côtés de la jeune fille, elle découvrit ce que cela faisait d'être aimée pour ce qu'elle était, et non pour une couronne, un titre, un héritage. Malheureusement, les parents de Tyana découvrirent leur relation, quand Tyana avait dix-huit ans - elle était donc reine depuis un an. Une Romanov, sur le trône qui plus est, lesbienne ? Pour eux, c'était une abomination, une trahison contre-nature. Ils s'arrangèrent pour supprimer Malia, et tant qu'à faire, son père et sa mère également. Ils ne dirent jamais clairement qu'ils l'avaient tuée, mais Tyana le sut toujours. Sans sa raison de vivre, la seule personne qui l'aimait réellement, elle devint dure et froide, et plongea dans une profonde dépression. Elle laissait ses parents faire ce qu'ils voulaient d'elle, elle les laissa la promettre à un certain Erwin Nightingal. Plus rien ne comptait. Son seul rêve était de rejoindre Malia dans la mort.
La chute de la dynastie Romanov a eu lieu au milieu du vingt-et-unième siècle, alors qu'elle était reine depuis cinq ans seulement, à cause d'un coup d'état organisé par les Nightingal. Tyana fut mariée de force à Erwin Nightingal, mais ce n'était qu'une ruse de la part de la famille de son époux. Erwin devait la tuer la nuit de leurs noces, ainsi que toute sa famille en incendiant leur château. Mais le jeune homme ne put s'y résoudre. Au milieu de la nuit, alors qu'il devait la tuer, il la réveilla et lui expliqua l'atroce plan. Au même instant, les Nightingal débarquèrent et commencèrent le massacre des Romanov, puis incendièrent le château lorsqu'Erwin en fut sorti. Ils ignorèrent toujours que celui-ci avait aidé Tyana à s'échapper. La reine déchue changea de nom, devenant Tyana Svarowski, et partit en Europe pour se construire une nouvelle existence dans ce monde qu'elle ne connaissait pas, ayant toujours vécu entre les murs du domaine de sa famille.
Toutes les traces de leur règne furent reléguées dans les musées, et les Nightingal agrandirent leur empire.
La fille du tsar a appris très jeune à manger, boire, se tenir, parler, marcher, dormir, obéir, respirer correctement. Mais elle ne sait presque rien de l'amour, de l'amitié, et des liens qui peuvent unir des personnes au-delà de ceux du sang. Elle ne connaît pas non plus la spontanéité. Son éducation l'a rendue égoïste, arrogante, distante et calculatrice, son expérience, froide et dure, mais elle cache une facette généreuse, amicale et sincère. Seulement, c'est très mal vu par sa famille, donc elle préfère le cacher. Elle est en réalité très courageuse, intrépide, fougueuse et tête brûlée. En cachette, elle s'entraînait aux sports de combat depuis toute petite, avec un maître très compétent. Son fort caractère lui permet de s'imposer et de se faire remarquer, notamment par ses qualités de meneuse et son autorité naturelles.
Trivia :
- Baguette magique : bois de cyprès, avec des ventricules de dragon.
- Patronus : cheval
- Epouvantard : un Détraqueur
Playlist :
Tyana :
How to be me - Ren x Chinchilla
Tyana x Malia :
Clarity - Zedd
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