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the12thnightproject · 17 hours

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Ok, bear with me, because this opinion is controversial. (Seriously, I'm a veteran of the Reddit 'said war'). In fact, it's so controversial, that feel free to ignore what I am going to write next, because plenty of people disagree with me, and they have valid reasons for doing so.

But the piece of advice I disagree with is the one that tells writers not to use "said" if they can avoid it.

But:

It's ok to use "said."

There are a couple of "words that you can use to replace said" posts that have been traveling through tumblr (and reddit, and other writing advice spaces) and every time I see one, I wince.

Why? Because (and I wish I could find an accredited source for this), when reading, the human brain tends to not notice the word said, and move on to the thing that is actually important, the words that are being said. When you start replacing every instance of said with synonyms (especially really colorful ones like '"quavered" "jested" "chortled"), the reader starts stumbling on the replacement, and stops reading with flow. Generally, as a writer, you want your reader to be immersed in the story. Too many 'said replacements' and you've lost the reader's suspension of disbelief. If a story is full of said substitutions, then when there are times (see below) that you really do want to indicate emotion with the dialogue attribution, it won't have any power, because the reader won't know if this is an indication of excess emotion on the part of the character, or an indication of excess use of thesaurus on the part of the writer.

Now, about, I don't know, maybe ten percent of the time, you do want the reader to focus on HOW the character said what they did, rather than the fact that they said it, or at least split the focus between what and how. That is the time to insert a more active verb. Sometimes you really do want to indicate that a character is so angry that he snarled his words, or so tired that they yawned. When you use these substitutions sparingly, they become more powerful, because now, you've caught the attention in a good way.

Now, of course the use of said can start to stick out, when you run across a passage like this:

"I don't want to go to school," Joe said.

"Too bad," Alice said.

"It's boring," Joe said.

"Sure, then you can stay home," Alice said.

"Really? Thank you," Joe said.

"I could use some help with the housework. You can start by cleaning the bathroom," Alice said.

And yes, this is an example where too many saids stick out. However, the problem isn't that the writer (er, me) used too many saids, it's because there's no action in this conversation. It's just talking heads. Replacing "said" with other verbs is not the solution, it's like pouring cough syrup on a broken leg.

"I don't want to go to school," Joe grumped.

"Too bad," Alice countered.

"It's boring," Joe whined.

"Sure, then you can stay home," Alice decided.

"Really? Thank you," Joe exclaimed.

"I could use some help with the housework. You can start by cleaning the bathroom," Alice proposed.

The replacements don't add much to the passage, and it still feels like talking heads, and now, the emphasis is even further away from the content of the conversation.

A better solution is to add more action, either around the saids, or since it will be clear who is talking, to get rid of the dialogue attributions altogether. Like so:

"I don't want to go to school." Joe plopped down in front of the door, arms crossed, pout forming on his lips. He kicked his boots off, and one of them went flying across the entry.

Alice ignored the airborne footwear. "Too bad." She placed his lunchbox on the stairway, and zipped up his backpack.

"It's boring." As if preparing to spend an equally exciting morning blocking the front door, he crossed his arms, and leaned back, wincing when one of the hinges dug into his shoulder. He didn't move though. He could wait his mother out.

"Sure, then you can stay home," Alice said. Without bothering to look down, she stepped over his legs and walked calmly into the kitchen.

Was victory that easy? Was it enough to refuse to leave the house? He took a moment to process before getting to his feet and following after her. "Really? Thank you!" Already, visions of a day for playing danced through his head.

A bucket full of rags and cleaning supplies was dropped into his hands. "I could use some help with the housework. You can start by cleaning the bathroom." At his horrified expression, Alice grinned.

Sighing a sigh of complete betrayal, Joe exchanged the cleaning bucket for his lunchbox. Like a condemned man, he replaced his boots and headed out for school.

This second revision still might not be great literature (nor is it intended to be), but it adds some movement and motivation to the scene. I left one of the saids in, but otherwise, I removed the dialogue attributions, replacing them with other action. It's the character's actions that inform the context and tone of their dialogue.

Anyway, that went on longer than I planned. Feel free to ignore. Like I said above, it's definitely not a universally held opinion.

Writing Wednesday Week #44

Is there a piece of writing advice that you totally disagree with, or one that just doesn’t work for you?

Event Details

#weekly writing wondering #writing wednesday question of the week #writing wednesday #fandom #writing #fanfiction writing #fanfic writing #fanfic writer #fanfiction #fanfic

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the12thnightproject · 19 hours

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Hi! I noticed you did nurse MC who respects HIPPA, how about one with Nobunaga, Ieyasu, Yoshimoto, and Hideyoshi. Thank you🤗

Hello! I am happy to know you liked it! Thank you for the request.

Nurse MC who respects HIPPA pt. 2

Oda forces.

Nobunaga Oda.

Ever since Nobunaga allowed you to be part of the healers of the castle, he noticed how much more strict you were about the patients you would take, which caught his attention. You never mentioned even one of the cases you, and you wouldn’t share with other healers anything related to your patients.

With that in mind, he decided to have you as his personal healer, as Nobunaga was sure that you would never mention to anyone about his illness and injuries. He only trusted you.

Hideyoshi Toyotomi.

While he was hesitant about letting you be part of the healers right as you entered the castle, he began to notice the care you had for the people you would treat, they all seemed to trust you a lot. Hideyoshi started to seek treatment with you as well, and was pleasantly surprised.

There were times when he felt like he had no one to rely on, and knowing that he had you as a healer made him feel relieved.

Ieyasu Tokugawa.

While Ieyasu didn’t understand the concept of HIPPA, he respected it and even felt relieved that you followed its principles. He himself didn’t like sharing personal information of the people he treated, even if someone close to the patient begged for it.

He decided to have you working closely to him as a healer, though he wasn’t very direct about it.

Uesugi-Takeda alliance.

Yoshimoto Imagawa.

Yoshimoto was used to not having many people he could rely on, so it caught him off guard to find trust in a healer that he wasn’t close with… yet. Yoshimoto just needed to treat a fever he was having, but didn’t want to worry his cousin or his allies, so he went to you to receive treatment.

To be able to have someone he can trust to keep this illness a secret while being treated gave him a sense of security.

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen #ikemen sengoku nobunaga #ikemen sengoku hideyoshi #ikemen sengoku ieyasu #ikemen sengoku yoshimoto #HIPAA #when the day job intersects with tumblr

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the12thnightproject · 19 hours

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Ikesen Boys React to a Tattooed MC pt 3

Thank you again to @otomedad for this fantastic idea ^_^ This one has Sasuke, Yukimura, and Kanetsugu! Approx. 2900 words (yes, I know. They keep getting longer xD)

Sasuke

You glance at Sasuke, wondering what he’s thinking about. His eyes are trained on the night sky, his lips curling in a faint, barely there smile. He notices you looking and turns his head to regard you.

“Are you cold? It’s colder tonight than I expected it to be.”

“No. I’m good.” You feel warm anytime you’re around him. Your very own moderately-awesome ninja.

He rubs his eyes before turning back to look up at the stars. “Alright.” His fingers curl over yours, a gentle caress he doesn’t even seem aware of.

You feel an ache in your chest, sweet and sharp, as you regard his profile. Somehow, that face has become so precious to you, but you don’t know how to tell him or if you even should. Friendship is precious and fragile, you think, as you look back up to the sky.

A sudden gust of chill night air tugs your hair from its messy bun. Strands blow around your face, and you can already feel the tangles forming. “Damn,” you sigh, trying to catch hold of them.

Sasuke looks back at you with that same whisper of a smile. “Here, let me help.” He moves to sit behind you. “I’m not as good at this as Yoshimoto. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” you murmur, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. His legs are to either side of you, and if you were to lean back, you’d be flush against his broad chest. “Here,” you hand him your hair clip, “and, umm, thanks.”

His fingers comb through your hair, sending a shiver down your back. It feels intimate and sensual to have him touch you like this. He tugs your collar down as he corrals your unruly hair. Then you feel him pause, a slight inhale.

“You have a tattoo.”

“Oh. Mhmm.” You try to find words, so you don’t sound like an idiot. But his closeness is so distracting! “It’s, umm, it’s a lotus?”

You feel him lift your hair to get a better look. “Is it alright if I see it?”

“Sure.” You hold very still as he pulls your kimono down a little further, fingertips brushing your inked skin. Just a friend, you remind yourself sternly, as your skin reacts to that light touch.

He is quiet for several moments. You can feel his gaze on your skin, and the faint trace of his fingers as he follows the intricate lines of the petals and leaves. “The lotus has a lot of meanings,” he says finally. “Divinity. Rebirth. It is an excellent choice for a tattoo.”

You smile, a flush of honeyed heat flooding through you at his words. “I liked the spiritualism of it. For me, it’s like a reminder to keep an open heart. And an open mind.”

“A good thing to remember. Especially for a woman who finds herself transported via wormhole to the Sengoku.”

You can hear the laughter in his words, though he doesn’t laugh. Sasuke’s emotions can be hard to read, though you find more and more that you can tell how he feels by the slight changes in his expression, his tone, the depths of his caramel brown eyes. “Ha, yeah. I never expected to have to be this open minded.”

“I’d say you do exceptionally well. At everything.” Sasuke’s breath tickles the hair at the back of your neck, and you feel the slight press of his chest against you. “The detail on this flower is very good. The shading and color. I’d like to look at it in better light.”

Your skin dimples as his words send another little shiver through you. “O-okay. Sure. When we go inside. You can. Look.” Despite your best efforts to not sound affected by his touch, you stutter your response.

“Are you sure you’re not cold?” He lets go of your hair, wrapping his arms around you. You are pulled up close against his chest, his chin rests on your shoulder. “You keep shivering.”

There is no way to reply at first. Your heartbeat is pounding loudly in your ears and you feel like you might not be able to breathe because he is hugging you and it feels - holy cats - it feels so good and so right and he’s just supposed to be a friend but isn’t this -

“Are you ok? You went very still. It reminds me of the prey response in rabbits. You know they freeze to blend in with the environment and can hold -”

“I’m fine.” And you almost manage to sound like it, if a little choked. “I definitely do not feel like a rabbit,” you add, your voice nearly normal.

Sasuke nods. “Alright.” You aren’t sure, but you think he sounds a little breathy himself. “Does this . . . warm you up?”

“Yep.” You feel very very warm in his arms. Hot, even.

“I am warm too. Very warm.” He says nothing for a few breaths, then, “It’s what friends do for each other, right?”

“Right.” You can’t imagine him hugging Yukimura like this. Or Yuki allowing it. But you don’t say that, because you don’t want him to stop.

“Good.” He pauses again, thinking. “I’ve never had a friend like you before.”

You smile at that. “Same. But you’re my best Sengoku buddy, and teacher. And a lot more.” You close your mouth on the almost-confession before it can bubble up and ruin everything.

A slight shudder passes through him, one you can feel. Then, “We should probably go inside. It’s late and it will only get colder up here.”

“You’re right. We can’t sit like this all night.” Part of you is very sure you absolutely could.

He reluctantly lets go of you, taking a moment to pull your hair back into the clip at the back. Sasuke is quiet as he brushes his fingers over your tattoo again. “I don’t know how I didn’t notice it there before. Your lotus.”

“I try to keep it covered. Fewer questions that way. I don’t think many women in this time have them.”

“No, they don’t.” He stands. “But maybe they should. It is exceptional. You -” He wipes at his eyes again, taking his glasses off. “I think I got something in my eyes,” he says, blinking.

You wonder what else he was going to say, but the moment passes and instead, he holds his hand out to help you up. His grip is strong and sure and comforting. “Thanks.” You aren’t sure if you’re thanking him for the hand up or the compliments, or for keeping you warm. All of it, you guess.

Sasuke’s gaze travels over you slowly and you feel yourself tense at the unexpected inspection. Just as you’re about to ask what he’s looking for, he speaks up. “Do you have any other tattoos?”

“Guess you’ll have to find out,” you grin, teasing. You can’t help but notice a faint flush from the tips of his ears down to his neck as he looks away.

He clears his throat and nods, a little unsteady. “Y-yeah.”

You catch him watching you from the corner of his eye and stealing secretive glances at you the whole way back to your room. You’re pretty sure he’s hunting for signs of another tattoo. This will be a fun game, you think, ignoring the little twinge in your heart.

Yukimura

“I don’t know why you wanted to come,” Yukimura huffs, walking at your side up the steep hill. “You’re so slow and your face is all red.”

You glare at him from the corner of your eye, wondering the same thing. It seemed like a great idea when the two of you set out from Kasugayama for the day, but after a few hours of walking, you were ready to strangle him.

“Pfft. I’m holding back for your sake. You have uh, you have stubby legs!” You poke him in the ribs, only half joking.

“I can’t have stubbier legs than you.” He pokes you back harder than you poked him.

“Oh really?” You take a breath and push off your back foot into a run. “Then why am I in front of you,” you call over your shoulder, taunting. This is a mistake you immediately regret as your foot catches on a rock and you tumble forward.

Yukimura tries to catch you, but he’s a little too far back and more than a little surprised. “Hey! Are you alright?” The teasing is gone from his voice, replaced with genuine worry as he kneels beside you on the path.

You roll over and lay on your back, feeling embarrassed and a little bruised. “I’m fine,” you groan.

His eyes move slowly over you, looking for any sign of injury. “You can’t always charge forward like a bo- oh!” Yukimura’s hand darts forward, lifting the edge of your kimono.

“Hey!” You smack his hand and the cloth flutters back down over your leg. “I’d expect that from, like, Shingen, but -”

“I wasn’t trying to peek. You have a mark. It looks like a bruise.” His lips form a precious pout and you feel your annoyance seep away at the genuine hurt in his expression.

With a little effort, you sit up and carefully tug the edge of your kimono back up your leg, looking for the injury. Only there’s nothing there, just your Totoro tatt. “I’m fine. See?” You start to stand but he puts a hand out.

“What is that? It looks like a really fat bear. Or maybe a squirrel.” Yukimura leans toward your leg, poking at the inked skin.

You try to pull your kimono back down over it. You aren’t sure what would happen, but showing someone a Ghibli tattoo 500 years before movies exists is probably some sort of world ending time event. You wish Sasuke was here to intervene or at least give you some hint about how to answer, but he isn’t and Yukimura is poking your thigh. “It’s not a bear or a squirrel. It’s a forest spirit.”

He raises an eyebrow, looking incredulous. “It doesn’t look like one. Aren’t they supposed to be majestic? Or scary? This one looks funny.”

“Well. He kind of is. His name is Totoro and he’s my favo-ah, he’s the umm, the forest spirit for my home town. So you shouldn’t make fun of him.” You cross your arms, trying to regain some dignity after the fall and Yuki’s teasing.

“I wasn’t making fun of it,” Yukimura replies, his voice gentle and contrite. “He’s kinda cute. L-like you.” His cheeks turn bright red at the admission, and he looks away unable to meet your gaze.

You feel a little stunned yourself, and your own face feels as hot as a kitchen fire. “Thanks.” The word comes out almost a squeak. You clear your throat. “I’m glad you like him,” you add in a more normal voice.

Yukimura finally turns back to you, his cheeks still plum-red. “So. Don’t get mad, but, why would you get your forest spirit inked into your skin?” He looks genuinely curious and a little nervous.

“I -” you can’t very well explain how much the film meant to you as a child, or how many times you watched it to cheer up after a rough day. How to explain the comfort of enjoying the same sad-sweetness of the anime without explaining animation and movies and so many things Yuki has no idea about?

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” He leans back from you, trying to hide the hurt look in his eyes by changing the subject. “Are you gonna watch where you’re going the rest of the way up, or am I gonna have to carry you?”

You nearly react to the taunt before you realize where it came from. “Yuki. I do want to tell you. It’s just hard to explain.” It takes another moment to consider, and then you begin. “So, Totoro - he was there for me when I was sad. He helped me feel better when my grandmother died, and when my best friend moved away. And when I was all alone at college - um, school for seamstresses I mean.”

“So, your forest spirit talked to you?” His eyes are wide now, but you don’t detect any disbelief. Only surprise.

“More like . . . I guess you could say I watched him? Yeah. And that made me feel better. Just seeing him do what he does.” You shrug, not sure what else to say.

Yukimura nods as if this makes more sense to him, though he still looks faintly wide eyed. His calloused palm rests on your leg just below the tattoo, a pleasant warmth. His gaze drops back to it, eyes narrowing as he studies the image. “I didn’t expect you to have irezumi but I like it.”

You feel yourself smile, a wide bright grin that makes your cheeks hurt. Sure, Yuki can be a brat, you think, but when he’s sweet, it just makes you want to kiss him.

“What are you making that dumb face for?” Heat colors his cheeks and he can’t meet your gaze as he looks up.

“I dunno. What are you making a dumb face for?”

Yuki stands. “I’m not!” He holds out a hand to help you up.

You take the hand and stand, dusting yourself off. “Are too. Or wait, maybe that’s just your face?” You giggle when he scowls at you.

He leans forward, and you think he’s probably wracking his brain for a good insult. Before he can come up with one, you plant a tiny kiss right on his lips. Yukimura’s mouth opens in a surprised, pleased sigh and for just a heartbeat, his eyes flutter shut.

“It’s a good thing I really love your dumb face.” You grin and squeeze his hand.

“Yeah. Same.” He returns your smile, tenderness in his gaze. Then he lets go of your hand and launches himself up the trail. “But you still have stubby legs! Think you can catch up!”

Kanetsugu

“What is this?” Kanetsugu’s finger lands on the back of your hand, gently but firmly pinning you in place.

“What’s what?” You glance up at him in mild surprise. He was reading, but now he’s just over your shoulder, leaned down so that his chin is beside your cheek.

“The mark.”

You glance down and realize he must mean your tattoo. Since they aren’t all that common, you try to keep it covered. Fewer questions that way. “Erm, nothing?” Your hopeful tone does not dissuade his keen gaze.

Kanetsugu nudges up the edge of your cuff with the tip of his finger until the heron in flight is exposed. The colors look soft in the lantern light, the delicate lines a bare delineation between ink and skin. “That is not nothing.”

You wince at the slight frown he gives you and try to pull your sleeve back down. “It isn’t any of your business.” You try for the villainess voice, but sound squeaky even to your own ears.

He doesn’t move his hand, even after a moment of your struggling.

“Fine.” You sigh. “It’s a tattoo.”

Kanetsugu leans closer. His hair brushes your neck, and the smell of him floods your senses.

You can feel his gaze on your arm, and heat travels from there up through your heart and floods your cheeks. Your heart is pounding and you struggle to keep your expression serene. It is absolutely unfair that he is so attractive, you think.

His eyes turn toward you, and he waits for more with an expression somewhere between impatience and mild curiosity.

It takes you a moment to gather yourself under that relentless stare. “Erm. I mean, ah, it’s a heron?”

“I am waiting to hear why you’ve branded yourself like a criminal.”

Your temper flares at that, and you give him a frown. “I seriously doubt any criminal has flash that looks this nice. Seriously.” You smooth a finger over the design, remembering the day you got it. “This represents blessings for me. A promise that things will always get better. And I - I think it looks really elegant.”

“I did not say it wasn’t.” His voice drops, a glimpse of fang at the corner of his lip as it compresses. “It is . . . lovely.” Kanetusugu’s thumb brushes over the inked skin, though his eyes are still fixed on yours.

“Thanks for the compliment,” you murmur, suddenly feeling as if it’s hard to draw breath. He is still so close, and it’s doing things to your heart that are hard to ignore.

“Beauty should be appreciated.”

You hope he can’t feel your racing pulse under his hand.”I-if you’re done appreciating?” You wiggle your arm, hoping he’ll let go, and hoping he won’t. Get it together, you tell yourself sternly, and pull with a little more force.

Too much, perhaps, as Kanetsugu, is tugged toward you. Only by a hair’s breadth, but then, that’s almost all that separates you. His lips brush your jaw, an accidental kiss. He lets go of you and steps back with a strangled breath. For a moment, his eyes are wide and there’s a slight flush to his cheek.

“K-kanetsugu?” You feel warmth slip through you from the spot his lips touched.

He turns away and clears his throat. “Thank you for the explanation.” His voice is calm and by the time he’s seated again, there’s no trace of discomfiture in his expression.

You, on the other hand, are ruffled. Very ruffled. “I think I’m going to step, mmm, outside. For a minute.” You stand and try to shake off the feelings tangled around your heart.

“Don’t go far,” he calls, not glancing up from the paperwork on his desk.

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen sasuke #ikesen yukimura #ikesen kanetsugu #sasuke sarutobi #yukimura sanada #kanetsugu naoe #fanfiction #otome #fanfic #otome guys #fluff

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the12thnightproject · 19 hours

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22/2 Happy Cat Day Mitsunari

#i've already reblogged this once but it makes me so happy whenever I see it on the dash that I am rb-ing again #IkeSen Mitsunari #ikesen kitty #ikesen neko #cinnamon roll

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the12thnightproject · 2 days

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Chapter Three: Dearly Beloved - 'Okatsu' meets Kitty, Mitsunari meets Okatsu, Hideyoshi meets the end of his patience, and someone's face meets a plate of stewed eel.

Mitsunari x OC; Nobunaga x Mai

Previous Chapter

Logline - In order to protect a political alliance, Katusko and Mitsunari must pretend an engagement. But this “all business” arrangement is threatened by a coup against Nobunaga… and by feelings.

From the Military Notes of Ishida Mitsunari…

Diversion: The act of drawing the attention and forces of an enemy from the point of the principal operation; an attack, alarm, or feint that directs attention elsewhere. Two: a change made in a prescribed route for operational or tactical reasons. A diversion order will not constitute a change of destination. Three: a rerouting of cargo or passengers to a new point or destination or on a different mode of transportation prior to arrival at ultimate destination.

Personal comments: I have the worrisome notion that there is something important I have forgotten. Also, it seems I have misplaced my cat. Am more concerned about the latter, as if it is the former, someone will inevitably remind me.

If I were writing up a society puff piece for a newspaper about my “engagement” party, I would likely write that the food, prepared by Date Masamune, was excellent. The article would note that the entertainment, in the form of Hideyoshi and Mitsuhide’s bickering was… a choice. The bride-to-be wore a pale lavender kimono embroidered with sakura blossoms, with matching sakura blossoms pinned to her hair. And the groom-to-be was… a no show.

I’d been left at the altar by my fake fiancé.

While Hideyoshi and Mitsuhide went out in search of him, Masamune stayed behind to encourage me to eat my feelings. “Here, what do you think of this?” He poked a chopstick full of steamed eel toward my mouth.

Though I had been a vegetarian before landing in this era, I had since learned – out of both necessity and politeness - to eat what was set in front of me. In this case, it was no hardship – the one-eyed man I (as Katsu) had once gotten into a horse race with was an excellent chef. “Delicious.” Since he looked like he was going to try and hand feed me my entire dinner, I asked, “Are you flirting with me at my own fake engagement party?”

“Were I fake engaged to you, lass, I would personally make sure you had a wonderful time at our party.” He leaned a little closer than mere politeness should allow and gave me a you-gotta-love-me grin. “You would never need to fake anything – anything- with me.”

No. Probably not. Masamune was hot, charming, and charismatic. But as fun as I imagined a ‘fake’ relationship with him would be, it was a relief that he wasn’t my ‘fiance.’ A little of that flirting went a long way.

There was a disgusted snort from the other man at our small table. Eeyore – no, Ieyasu, must remember that – had refused to join the searchers, choosing to stay behind and eat in peace (his words). “Masamune, go flirt with the hired help elsewhere. You’re giving me indigestion.” He turned those gorgeous green eyes on me, then he frowned.

Correction. Frowned more.

“Have we met?”

Masamune looked up from where he was spooning more stew into my dish. “Now who’s flirting?”

More staring. More frowning. “No, truly, she looks familiar.”

“Ieyasu, you’re doing it wrong.” Masamune shook his head in mock dismay, before giving me another one of those grins. “If we had met before, I definitely would remember it.”

“Actually, Lord Ieyasu is correct, we’ve met before. And you too, Lord Masamune. I was dressed as a boy on both occasions.” It was better that Ieyasu remember the time he helped me care for my horse, than to make the connection between myself and the old man in the booksellers. Nobunaga already knew about the boy, but I didn’t want him to learn about the couple weeks I had spent in Azuchi earlier this summer… observing.

While the two of them quieted, both, looking at me as if they were trying to picture what I looked like as a boy, something caught my attention – a tiny grey moving blob, darting in and around people. Awww. It was a cat! I set my hand on the floor and snapped my fingers, trying to get its attention, but it didn’t notice me.

The poor thing was going to get kicked or stepped on though. I excused myself from my dining companions and hurried to perform a feline extraction.

However, the cat seemed perfectly (purrfectly?) capable of performing its own extraction, and I ended up following it into the corridor, where it meowed at me, then gave me one of those disdainful looks that said, ‘now that I have your attention, I don’t want it anymore,’ and padded into the gardens.

Feeling the need for some pet therapy after being dissed by my yet unknown fake fiancé, I followed the cat. She was sitting near the shrubbery, legs splayed, grooming herself. I stopped in front of her and held my hand out. “Hi sweetie. What’s your name?” Of course, the cat wasn’t going to answer… but it seemed the right thing to do.

The cat ignored me, her head tilted at something on the far side of the gardens. I heard it too… soft footsteps, that preceded the reappearance of that absentminded bookworm. Unsurprisingly Mitsunaru was reading and walking at the same time.

He stubbed his foot on a rock, and stumbled several steps, finally managing to halt his forward motion in time to prevent a fall.

Ok. He was reading and trying to walk at the same time.

Unalarmed by his near face-plant, Mitsunari tucked the book under his arm, then finally noticed me and the cat.

“That’s Kitty,” he said as if we had been in the middle of a conversation. He crouched down, put his arms out, and the cat – who may or may not have been named Kitty – jumped into them. “Kitty, did I lock you out again?”

“Hello Ki-.” No, there was no way I would be able to utter the phrase, ‘hello kitty,’ with a straight face. It would get filed away with ‘yes, master,’ which Aki had reluctantly deleted from our conversations after my third uncontrollable giggle fit.

I extended my hand to Kitty who sniffed it and decided I was acceptable enough. She bumped her head into my palm, demanding a good scritch. The was something so comforting in a tiny animal willing to accept attention… and I still missed my old ginger tomcat Tony Stark. He’d died a couple years before I ended up in this era, but the best cats all leave permanent pawprint tattoos. Hm, could I talk Aki (or, more accurately Fume) into getting a cat?

With his own head slightly tilted, Mitsunari looked at me, apparently searching his memory bank, then officially introduced himself to me and bowed.

After bowing in return, I said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Overly formal, but it was time to try out the Princess manners on this semi-stranger. “I’m Okatsu.” Huh, Mitsuhide hadn’t given me a surname. Should I use Akihira’s, or wait for future instructions? Not that it seemed to matter in this case, as Mitsunari didn’t comment on the omission.

“Are you paying a visit to Lord Nobunaga and Lady Mai?” He looked around the garden, which was empty of other people.

“In a sense.” I stalled and covered that by dangling my obi tie in front of Kitty. Who here, aside from Nobunaga’s inner circle, knew about this scheme? It seemed safer to presume ignorance until further notice. “Actually, I’ve just escaped my engagement dinner.”

“Dinner! I wondered why I felt hungry.” He unconsciously rubbed his belly, disturbing the folds of his wrinkled kimono and revealing a surprising amount of muscle definition.

Recalling my attempts to feed him earlier this summer, I asked, “Did you lose track of time while you were reading?”

“Yes! I take it you do that as well?” Mitsunari beamed so happily that I was nearly scorched by the rays. One of the sakura blossoms in my hair was so overcome that it fainted and drooped over my eye. Huh. He ought to come with a warning. Caution: smile is deadly.

“I’ve been known to get absorbed in something to an extent that I lose track of time.” Generally, that would be riding and archery, not reading, but those were not exactly the most princess-like hobbies. I sent him an attempt at a mysterious-princess semi-smile, jammed the wayward blossom back in place, then turned my attention to the footsteps – two sets – rushing through the garden. I was pretty sure they belonged to… yep – Mitsuhide and Hideyoshi.

“There you are!” Hideyoshi said in a strained tone that I suspected would become his default mode when dealing with me.

“I’m sorry. I saw the cat, and-” Oh. He wasn’t talking to me. His attention was fully on Mitsunari, as he viewed the younger man with a mixture of impatience and affection.

“I see you’ve already met.” Mitsuhide looked from me to Mitsunari, who was cheerfully accepting Hideyoshi’s mild scolding about being late for dinner. “And here everyone at the party was waiting for you both.”

Already?

Both?

Is… ?

Since Mitsunari’s attention was taken up by Hideyoshi, I inconspicuously tilted my head in his direction and mouthed, ‘him?’

Mitsuhide smirked and nodded.

Him?

I’d expected my ‘fiance’ to be an unapologetic flirt, wild and free, like Masamune. Not… a human ASMR video.

That sakura blossom fainted again, this time falling out of my hair completely, hitting me on the nose. I sneezed violently, and the petals scattered everywhere. Several of them lodged in Mitsunari’s hair, where I imagined they’d be very happy to stay.

“Why were they waiting on me?” Mitsunari looked from Mitsuhide to Hideyoshi and back. I hadn’t thought he’d heard Mitsuhide’s comment, but maybe he’d been paying more attention than he appeared. “Lady Okatsu said it was her engagement dinner.”

Hideyoshi closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, then opened them again.

“We’re still here,” Mitsuhide said.

Yeah, that had been a close your eyes and wish for someone to beam the rest of us out of here. Too bad transporter technology hasn’t been invented yet. Maybe it never would be.

Ignoring Mitsuhide, Hideyoshi turned to Mitsunari. “We discussed this last night.” His tone was patient. His posture was defcon level three.

“Last night?” That was said with so much confusion that I again recalculated how much attention he paid to the world around him.

“You’re supposed to remove all reading material from the vicinity when you’ve got something important to tell him.” Obviously Mitsuhide liked poking the Hideyoshi.

“I did.” This was said between gritted teeth. Defcon two now.

It would be tempting to sit back and just watch the two of them snipe at each other, although such entertainment would likely be improved with popcorn. Which had been invented, but not in this part of the world.

Meanwhile Mitsunari looked like he had remembered… something. “Oh, you did take my book away last night. But I was at an interesting point in it, so I went back a few chapters in my head and re-read them until you left.”

He has an eidetic memory? Well, that explained a lot. He had read almost all the books on military strategy in Aki’s booksellers in only a couple weeks. But it seemed more likely now that he’d just been scanning them into his hard drive for later.

“Were you aware that he could do that?” Mitsuhide murmured to Hideyoshi.

Hideyoshi shook his head.

“What was it you wanted to tell me?” Mitsunari belatedly appeared to realize that he’d missed something important. “I am sorry that I did not listen last night.”

“Tonight’s party is for Lady Okatsu and you,” Mitsuhide began, only to be interrupted by Hideyoshi.

“Mitsuhide had a plan to bring in someone to pretend to be your fiancée.” To gain attention, Hideyoshi stepped in front of Mitsuhide, partially blocking him from us. “Initially, I agreed, but only if-”

Mitsuhide didn’t move, but his interruption was as successful as Hideyoshi’s physical block. “In order to ensure that Shohime-”

“-if you are willing to take part in this farce-”

“Tactic. It is a tactic that will, in essence, allow you to-”

“-but rest assured if you’re not willing-”

They interrupted each other so fast that it was unlikely anyone would be able to understand. Mitsunari looked from one to the other, his face looking increasingly worried. Kitty, wisely, jumped out of Mitsunari’s arms and got the hell out of there.

“-Okatsu is highly trained and will do all the work, you’ll only be required to-”

Lie back and think of England?

“-and the more I think about it, the more I believe it’s an ill-advised idea-”

“-it will work perfectly well -”

I stuck my fingers in my mouth and whistled. Everyone finally shut up. Military strategy. That was Mitsunari’s programming language. “Mitsunari. They want to use me as a diversion so that you will be able to study at Genba Castle in peace.”

“Oh, that is an excellent strategy. I would appreciate having uninterrupted time to study unbothered.” He said that completely innocently, but I wondered if underneath that was the hope that ‘no one’ would include McCoy and Spock over there. “Thank you, Lady Okatsu.”

“But when we are in Kanamori territory, you and I will need to pretend we’re engaged.” Hm, better clarify. “Getting married.”

“You will not be required to actually marry this… girl.” Hm… what had Hideyoshi been about to call me? He steered Mitsunari out of the garden. “I will go over the details while I help you pick out something more appropriate for the celebration.”

With a glare at Mitsuhide and clearly fake smile in my direction, Hideyoshi escorted Mitsunari away.

As they exited, Mitsunari looked over his shoulder at Mitsuhide and I. His prior confusion seemed to have been replaced with annoyance at being treated like a toddler who couldn’t dress himself. For that matter, I was rather annoyed on his behalf.

Once they were out of earshot, Mitsuhide calmly brushed sakura petals off his shoulders. “Did you… whistle at me, brat?”

I waved that away. “It got everyone to shut up, didn’t it?”

“I’m not questioning the result, only the method used to achieve it.” He rubbed his chin. Interesting. He and Aki have the same tell. I wonder if they taught that at Spymaster University. And really… he was going to lecture me about method versus results? “We’ll have to give you remedial instruction on manners and behavior before we leave for Genba.”

Translation, he was going to make me pay for that whistle. Truthfully, I felt a bit ashamed of that too. Aki had always encouraged me to speak my mind and stand up for myself, but I shouldn’t have acted that way in front of men who were virtual strangers. “I do know how to behave in public, and how to follow orders. I promise you won’t have to worry about any further insubordination.” I gave him a meek, eye-lowered bow.

“Don’t overplay it.” Mitsuhide laughed. He steered me back toward the banquet. “You wouldn’t be working for Yamaoka if you couldn’t follow orders.” I relaxed slightly, until he added, “you’ll still need to report to Hideyoshi for instructions on behavior. This is for his peace of mind.”

“Of course.” Mitsuhide didn’t care at all for Hideyoshi’s peace of mind. He was sending me to Hideyoshi so that we could annoy each other.

As we approached the main hall, the sounds of merriment and celebration had increased – well, they didn’t really need a bride and groom to party hard. When Mitsuhide slid open the door, a dual blast of heat and noise slammed into the corridor. “I’ll leave you here. I have every confidence in your ability to carry this off, and meanwhile I have made it my personal mission to get Masamune drunk at least once a week.”

Once Hideyoshi returned with Mitsunari, who had been spiffed up in a clean, wrinkle-free kimono, and his hair combed (mostly) and de-blossomed, the fake engagement resumed with 100! Percent! More! #Awkward!

“Lady Okatsu. Do you like… blue?” Mitsunari’s ears turned red, and he ducked his eyes to his plate. Apparently, Hideyoshi had impressed upon Mitsunari the importance of acting the doting fiancé in public but neglected to give him any suggestions on how a doting fiancé behaved. This led to Mitsunari attempting various conversational overtures, but not feeling confident enough to finish a sentence, so he was constantly rebooting and starting over. Each time that happened, he would look a little more flustered and flushed. The only good news was that our table with Ieyasu and Masamune was separated from the rest of the others enough so that from a distance, he looked like a proper blushing bridegroom.

The whole situation was motifying at best – before this fiancée scheme had been dumped on him, Mitsunari hadn’t had any problems talking to any version of me – whether I had been the old man, Katsu, or Lady Okatsu. “Yes. It reminds me of lakes and the sky… and…and...”

Oh hell, it’s contagious.

“My eye is blue.” Masamune winked at me for emphasis.

Ignoring the “help” from the peanut gallery, I asked Mitsunari. “Do you also like blue?”

“Yes. It is very… blue.” Blush.

Loading… loading…

Until Mitsunari finally ran default.weather.smalltalk.exe and asked me about the weather where I was from.

Ieyasu threw down his hand towel. “This inanity is putting me off my dinner. Can’t you talk about anything else?”

Mitsunari turned to him. “I’m sorry you are not feeling well, Ieyasu. I could make you some tea?” He looked prepared to sprint across the castle in search of tea.

Ieyasu’s big green eyes got bigger and greener. “Don’t you dare.”

Masamune leaned in too close to me and said in my ear, “Mitsunari makes terrible tea. Don’t ever drink it.”

Good to know, Mr-no-conception-of-personal-space. I scooted slightly away from him and turned back to Mitsunari. “My home is inTogakushi mountain range, and it’s nice in the summer and cold and snowy in the winter.”

This was acknowledged with a nod, then followed by BSOD.

Ieyasu snorted.

Right. Military tactics had worked before. At least it was a topic I knew Mitsunari felt comfortable discussing. “Where I live is rather isolated, up a narrow mountain path. If you were leading an attack force, how would you go about it?”

“It would be unadvisable to travel in strict formation. Rather the most effective tactic would be to conceal smaller units under the cover of darkness and for a surprise attack.” Mitsunari smiled and proceeded to play toy soldiers with his dinner, as he explained the schematics. Once he got into the topic, he came alive, with broad and mobile hand gestures that likely would have sent a dish of food into someone’s lap, if I hadn’t kept moving cups and bowls out of the way.

It was kind of like playing ‘whack-a-mole’ in an arcade, and I was enjoying testing my hand/eye coordination, when Mitsuhide swooped in for a fly-by teasing. “You all look like you are having fun.” He leaned over Masamune’s shoulder. “How is the happy couple? Are you enjoying getting to know each other?”

“Lady Okatsu is interested in battle strategies.” Mitsunari once again gestured widely. I tracked the path of his hand and moved my bowl out of range.

“Yes.” I directed my response to Mitsuhide. “So lovely to get to know Mitsunari-” I paused to move my teacup away from his elbow, “in front of so many people. Most people are forced to have to do this in private.”

I was not allowed to get away with the sarcasm. “Yes, it’s fortunate for you that we needed to get the word out so quickly,” Mitsuhide said mildly as he – wait… did he just pour something in Masamune’s tea? “So that Kanamori Mozumi will have word of your existence before you appear with Mitsunari on his doorstep.” With that, he thumped Masamune’s shoulder again, and moved on.

I should warn Masamune about-

“He’s correct.” Mitsunari had flipped the switch and self-promoted from space cadet to general. “If the purpose of this ruse is to get unimpeded access to the Genba archives, then the sooner our engagement is accepted as common knowledge, the better.” Whoa. Ok. He could indeed focus on something besides books when the mood took him. Mitsunari then reached for his bowl – which wasn’t where he had left it, and the sleeve of his kimono knocked his chopsticks to the floor. He leaned over to grab them and bumped the table. A bottle of sake teetered toward Ieyasu.

“I knew it was too good to be true,” Ieyasu grumped, right before I caught the bottle.

Close call.

Ieyasu let out a long sigh.

Which was when Masamune’s eye fluttered shut and he pitched forward onto the table, his head landing in Mitsunari’s bowl, sending a shower of food everywhere.

Well, it’s not really a party until someone faceplants into a dish of stewed eel.

Dear Aki. Please come rescue me. These people are insane…

I stared down at the blank sheet of paper. I absolutely could not write the words that had formed in my head. He was counting on me to both behave professionally around the Oda, as well as look into the politics in Hida. The denizens of Azuchi weren’t actually insane – I was simply just not used to them yet, that was all. And if I was feeling slightly lonely, without anyone to really talk to (Mai was lovely, of course, but she and Nobunaga were obviously in that stage of a relationship where they formed an entity unto themselves), well… I would be just as lonely back on the Mountain, with only Fume for companionship.

Yawning, I gave up on the letter, plopped myself onto the futon, shuttered the lantern, and did my best to try to sleep. I’m not a great sleeper in the best of times, and definitely not while in an unfamiliar place, so I was still tossing and turning when something squeaked in the ceiling above me.

Rats?

Squirrels?

Or worse?

Maybe it was my imagina-

Swish! Squeak!

Too heavy to be a squirrel.

I rolled out of bed and grabbed my dagger.

It was too dark to see much more than the shapes of the furniture. Plastering myself against the wall, I tracked the path of the noise. Then a ceiling panel moved, and a human shape dangled above the room.

The human shape said, “Tok.”

That was a weird battle cry, but she who waits to be attacked loses the element of surprise. I made the first move and yanked the person down. He (or she) landed on their feet, so whoever it was had been ninja trained.

That… would fall into the category of “or worse.”

@bestbryn @katriniac @briars7 @lyds323 @lorei-writes

#TBTMND #A Mitsunari Night's Dream #throwback thursday #ikemen sengoku #fanfic #ikesen fanfic #mitsunari ishida #ikesen mitsunari #ikesen mitsuhide #ikesen hideyoshi #ikesen masamune #ikesen ieyasu #oc: katsuko #katsuverse

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the12thnightproject · 3 days

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Explain otome storylines in four screenshots or less

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the12thnightproject · 4 days

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Tokyo

#inspiration

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the12thnightproject · 4 days

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There should be a fanfic writing game called the showrunners challenge where someone writes a story and partway through someone else can play things like "actor leaves after 4000 more words" or "topic now too politically sensitive due to unforeseen world events" or "lost rights to that reference"

#I love this and it feels ... painfully true

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the12thnightproject · 5 days

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Thank you very much, Your Highness. I'm excited to get started, and hopefully, I won't blow anything up either.

Prince Yves,

Thank you so much for this blog - I'm really enjoying reading it.

I've been baking bread and sweets for a few years now, with mixed success (happy to note that I actually managed a pie crust last year). I'm about to take the next logical step... grow my own sourdough starter.

Any words of advice? I'm a bit nervous about it. It seems like such a delicate process.

Thank you in advance, Your Highness.

Hello, there.

I'm so grateful to hear you've been enjoying my blog. I'm glad I can bring happiness to someone in any kind of way.

Congratulations on the pie crust, those can be quite difficult to work with. Especially without modern refrigeration.

(What's that?)

(... I have no idea, Licht. What did I just say?)

A-anyway. Don't be too scared. A sourdough starter is actually a very hardy thing once it's grown a decent size! Sometimes I forget to feed mine for weeks at a time, and it's just fine!

But, please make sure to feed yours regularly ^^;

My words of advice are:

Make sure your water is pure. Either spring water or distilled water. Any chlorine or other unwanted minerals can kill your starter.

(What's chlorine?)

(I don't know!! Now please get out of the kitchen before you start a fire, Licht. I'll start on your darioles soon.)

Also, use either bread flour or all purpose flour to begin with. You can phase it out for some other type of flour when it's matured. It's easiest to see the consistency and reactions when using the flours I recommended above.

Lastly, be careful of the water temperature. Lukewarm water will give you best results in the starting stages. Room temperature water will work fine when it is mature. Do NOT use hot water, it will kill everything.

As for general maintenance, I feed my starter once every two weeks or so. Make sure to discard some starter if you haven't used any, otherwise you might end up with an overflowing mess.

When you store it, it NEEDS to be in a container that is not airtight. It will shatter from the escaping gas otherwise. I use a jar with a wire clamped lid. If you remove the rubber gasket, it won't be airtight.

(What's-)

(LEON I SWEAR-)

You can also simply place the lid of a jar over the top.

And although it's not necessary, I recommend getting a Danish dough whisk.

...

No one this time? Good.

Anyway, it's quite helpful for mixing the started thoroughly when you feed it, and nothing will get stuck inside.

Oh, one more thing. Do you have a scale? If not, get one. Non negotiable. Your starter must be fed equal amounts of water and flour by weight once it has matured.

I think that's everything! Let me know if you have any questions.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go lie down. All this breaking the 4th wall has got me very tired.

-Yves Kloss

#ikemen prince #yves kloss #licht klein #leon dompteur #baking

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the12thnightproject · 5 days

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Behind the Scenes: My Dear Rag Doll & I, Your Rag Doll

As per usual, I am experiencing a bit of a "project completion" blues, this time brought by none other than Esther & Chev. Which means it's a good time to ramble a little bit about details and such <3

Contents:

Cart,

Investigation,

Nightingales,

Defilement,

References between works from within the OCverse.

Cart

The tea cart rattled all too loudly as Esther pushed it down the hallway, silver spoons plinking against porcelain cups, wicker baskets filled to the very brim with pastries shaking at the thought of overcoming yet another carpet bump.

~ I, Your Rag Doll

The door to the foreign affair’s faction office cracked open with a knock, a silver tea cart merrily rattling inside, assisted by the metallic cackle of a chatelaine.

~ My Dear Rag Doll

The cart scene is an example of the perspectives differing between the stories. Esther is at work. She's thin and rather lithe, and she has to push this card along. The carpet bumps need to be "overcome", it is not as easy as just pushing it along. It seems tiresome. It is loud. It is unpleasant.

Chevalier, however? He hears the rattle, but it is a merry, joyous, sound. They are not yet together, yet he expects her to come. Perhaps he is unaware of it himself, yet they've formed a habit and at least a part of him registers that ritual as something of positive value.

Investigation

Chevalier stood up. He let his gaze sweep over the room again, although he did not think it likely that he had omitted anything. The dim light of the garden lanterns seeped inside, curtains stationed by the windows permitting its passage rather indifferently. Yet to be drawn shut for the night – or was it a “still” instead? – they billowed lightly with each gust, the sweetly bloody scent lifting from the ground…

~ My Dear Rag Doll

Chevalier is analytical. He is observant. He takes in the broader scene, concludes things based on present data... And what data does he have at hand there, in that room? How does he know it was not her blood? And why is it relevant later?

Blood of a healthy person takes between 5 and 15 minutes to coagulate. The mark on the carpet is yet to set. Meanwhile, the room is in a terrible shape -- it couldn't have got this way soundlessly. Given the fact that Chevalier has walked through the corridor and has not thought of any steps he could potentially hear otherwise, nor has he heard anything... It is unlikely for it to have happened within the last 5 minutes.

The curtains are the key. They hang by the windows, rather undisturbed. If Esther was in the room after the dark, she would likely draw them shut for the night. Why are they open then? She must have left them that way. If she was abducted then... Then it would have to happen before sundown. The bloody mark would then be set, however, regardless of who might have produced it.

In other words: Esther hasn't drawn the curtains yet. She wasn't in the room when it was searched. The blood is not hers.

Nightingales

Nightingales are something of an ongoing theme within both stories. They're the symbol of an upcoming spring, joy, the connection with God... love. Within the Slavic world, that largely inspired Amber, one can find the belief that the song of a nightingale is a sign one shall soon find their second half or will otherwise experience a bout of good fortune in the matters of the heart.

Solitary composers, nightingales are chased out of the royal gardens. On the surface level, it is just an act of controlling the wildlife population, discarding that which may turn inconvenient.

If he could fly… Ha. Ridiculous. Self-serving and unrealistic, so very ironic after decades of chasing the nightingales out.

~ My Dear Rag Doll

However, when the figurative layer is added, it becomes an act of a deeper meaning -- of discarding emotion, continuously chasing out any affection, of not allowing oneself to even yearn. How can he hope for something after years of turning it away?

Chevalier sees only nightingales. For Esther, the air is filled with blackbirds, titmice, dark ominous crows and other birds. He? He reads romance novels. It is utterly irrelevant, yet he cannot filter that bit of the information out of his perception -- it makes it through, but only it. The other birds are irrelevant. And she? Esther was raised in a village. To recognise multiple birds at once is a second nature to her. She's not bound by the nightingales.

Additionally, nightingales are relevant in Lost Nightingale as well.

She was the trill of nightingales, the hard thudding of her heart chirping him a promise, assuring him that she’d stay.

~ Lost Nightingale

Esther is his song of love (and as such, her being hesitant, letting her feelings fester there, was a threat).

Defilement

Hair was stuck to her face when Esther found him. It was brownish red, just as her clothes, and utterly soaked. Vivid where still wet, it marked her pale eyelashes, brows, clung to her bruised neck and slipped behind her collar. She was painted whole, entirely in his colours, defiled down to her fingertips. He had done that. He —

~ My Dear Rag Doll

Chevalier does not move towards her. He is the one to defile her, to paint her fully in her colours. What he expects is scorn and fear, he expects to be pushed away. In his mind, he only deserves that.

And it doesn't occur to him that...

Esther clawed into the gardener’s forearms, her knees slamming into his back with each desperate kick of hers. Warm blood clung to her fingertips, moist and sticky rather than slick.

~ I, Your Rag Doll

... she herself has fought and the blood she's bathed in is not fully his fault. That she would have bloodied her hands too if it meant being saved. That this is not the death she'd be content with.

As it likely will come back in On Loving a Sinner, Chevalier believes himself to have baptised Esther with blood. It doesn't occur to him that he can be anything other than terrifying or destructive, that she can be grateful for what he has done. He takes the whole blame on himself.

References between works from within OCverse

*- or other OCverse elements

In that moment, for but a single precious breath, Rhodolitian roses replaced her lilac.

~ I, Your Rag Doll

Esther's favourite flower is lilac. It reminds her of home, as several of those grew by her house. She's always looked forward to seeing them bloom.

She did not dare check whether he was even awake, whether he was even real, the warmth of his embrace returning her to a place between places.

~ I, Your Rag Doll

Very loosely connected to Needless Need, that takes place at the same time of the day. It mirrors the situation to an extent, although in a much calmer context -- Chevalier returns home to see Esther sleeping in his bed. They do end up cuddled together (and with Bambi there too).

His lips found hers for a brief kiss, rougher than intended – although, perhaps that was the nature of a beast. Insistent on suppressing it, even if just for a night, Chevalier carried his caresses over to her jaw, neck… neck… “Neck?” he asked, unable to rid himself of the feeling that if he wanted to, he could bite into it and she would not be able to fight him back. “Just no hands.” Teeth were fine.

~ Prayers (smut)

Chevalier asks for permission to touch he neck specifically because he remembers her being strangled. He wants to be gentle with her during their first time. He wants to treat her right (or in a way that he imagines to be right), to be considerate of her.

Esther took a step forward, dismissed the imaginary hands that coiled around her neck, banished the frost, set her eyes on the mansion, and… It was only the burning in what little space was left of her throat that reminded her of what she felt. Esther smiled, as if per Clavis’ command.

~ Roots of Deception, Chapter I: Mendacium

The incident did affect Esther long-term and is the cause of her reaction here.

“Understood.” Esther turned on her heel and took a step towards the door, her hand already resting on the knob. “Is Bambi not with you?” She looked over her shoulder. “He was tired, so I left him in my room.” Something flickered over Chevalier’s face, gone almost before it appeared. “The last –“ “I remember,” Esther interrupted, her fingers pressed against her throat. Her lungs felt tight, but even so, they still breathed. Despite or through her hesitation, she pushed the door open, Chevalier striding towards her. “Oh?” She did not stop, not for a moment. “The last meeting has been delayed.”

~ Roots of Deception, Chapter II: Aqua

The last time Esther was all by herself she nearly died. She thinks this is what Chevalier is referencing, given that he asked about Bambi, her guard dog. He, however, deflects it.

But does it mean she was incorrect? He does walk her to her room, in the end.

Other:

Reading My Dear Rag Doll before I, Your Rag Doll is advised, as then the foreshadowing becomes more apparent. The reader is supposed to know that Roux is the supposed attacker.

Chevalier needs to carry Esther's limp body back to his room*. Why there? He's seen the blood start to coagulate over her face. The person who broke into her room is yet to be captured, therefore, he cannot allow her to be left without supervision.

*- that will be later referenced when Esther's condition becomes worse.

Chevalier borrows three of Clavis' maids so that they can wash Esther. She is unaware of the fact, but no, he has not seen her completely naked then. He has, however, tended to her injuries.

The Croix merchants deal in powder, although technically it is still in form of fireworks. What is their exact connection to Roux is unclear, however, as mentioned in the Q&A, there being one is rather obvious... The only question is which nobles could be involved... and whether the case of Lady Lavigne is not a continuation of what was started here. (It was.)

#i love behind the scenes posts #hint hint for any other writer seeing this

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