weaving futures

anonymous asked:

I know that you're old enough to be writing about sex, hence you don't have to give a shit about it but I think it's unfair that many fanfic writers feel obligated to write smut to receive attention and recognition only because so many people are biased. Angst and fluff writers don't really get the chance to show their talents and you can compare most of a writers fic notes and 9/10 their smuts will have 30% more notes than their other stories what kind of sucks. What do you think?

I think preach the fuck out of this. I completely, one hundred and ten percent agree with you and I am certain that many of my other fellow fanfic writers agree too – in fact, I know they do as this is a discussion that has come up plenty of times when conversing with them, and they share the precise same opinion as both you and I do. No matter the age of the writer, it is definitely something to give a shit about because it develops an “unhealthy” writing pattern where the writer, despite their level of experience with writing fanfics (though it can certainly be a defining factor for first-time fic writers and whether they “make it or break it” in the fandom’s fic scene), can begin to doubt whether to write or post a story, solely due to the fact that it does not include smut.

Personally, when planning most of my ideas, they generally begin without any smut unless the main focus of the story is sex itself, like An Oath For Sinners is. But I always notice once I am at a certain point of developing upon the idea, I will end up narrowing the direction of the plot down to two questions: “Will it include smut? Is smut a detrimental piece of the plot, and, if not, will that ultimately minimize the audience that will end up reading the story if I cease to include at least one sex scene?” It is a sad truth, most especially since hundreds of successful young adult novels never pass the barrier of kissing, or even have a romantic element in the first place, yet we as fic writers feel the dire necessity to involve at least a blowjob in order to appeal to a wider audience in the fanbase.

This is also not to say that writing smut is a bad thing because hey, like I said, I literally have a series dedicated to a girl who is an escort and it was something that I genuinely wished to write. But there are many, many ideas that I have put on the backburner because they cease to fit smut into the plot, and I have read a ginormous number of fics that have been without smut, yet are absolutely incredible nonetheless. Though you are right – those fics definitely lacked the 30% extra recognition because of it.

Continuing on, most of us write for ourselves. I certainly do, as the vast majority of my fics are based on ideas that I have developed myself; hence why I rarely take requests from the public. But that does not mean we wish to have zero feedback on a piece we have slaved over for days, as hearing the voices of our readers provides us an insight on the elements they enjoyed that we will then proceed to weave throughout our future pieces. We still desire to appeal to an audience, and at least eighty percent of the time in regards to fanfiction, you have to include a smut scene to do just that.

So I will completely admit that it is a punch to the gut to see that my smut-based oneshot Do You Feel It Sugar? has over a thousand responses in comparison to A Ticket To The Sun that, even still, has a very vague smut scene that I put in there to draw an audience to a genre (dystopia) that can be touch and go when it comes to piquing a reader’s intrigue. It might sound ridiculous, but it begins to plant seeds of doubt in my mind where I think: “Is my writing only considered good if I slather it with sex, and then more sex?” This most especially occurs if I receive a message that asks whether the future chapters of a series I am writing will include smut, which I have been questioned about for The Orange Girl, The Devil Skates On Thin Ice, An Eternity of Red, etcetera.

I am not saying that all fic writers may think such a thing, but that kind of thought process especially occurs to me as somebody who is pursuing writing as a career. It happens all the more so when I reflect on my first persona, sugasmut, which was hitting follower milestones on a fortnightly basis because these people adored reading my collection of fics that I will freely admit were baseless, pwp smuts that hardly ever breached 3,000 words. Now, I am putting out stories that generally exceed a count of 10,000 words, have fully planned out plots with much less smut and more extensive character development – but I rarely receive twenty new followers a week. I am not stating that to sound selfish or upset, because I really could not mind how large or small my follower count is, but rather to show a comparison of what most people are desiring to read. And that, very clearly, is plotless smut.

Let me tell you that there is a grand audience of those who could not care less for reading smut and enjoy a fic just as much without it, and I do certainly have plenty of those types of readers amongst my followers that I am ever grateful for. Yet no matter that, the obligation to write a smut scene lays heavy upon my own, and many other writers’ shoulders if they are hoping to branch out and reach a wider audience, which yeah, can really suck!

«The computer emerges out of the history of weaving, the process so often said to be the quintessence of women’s work. The loom is the vanguard site of software development. Indeed, it is from the loom, or rather the process of weaving, that this paper takes another cue. Perhaps this paper is an instance of this process of weaving as well, for tales and texts are woven as surely as threads and fabrics. It is a yarn in both senses. It is about weaving women and cybernetics, and is also weaving women and cybernetics together. It concerns the looms of the past, and also the future which looms over the patriarchal present and threatens the end of human history.»

Sadie Plant, «The Future Looms: Weaving Women and Cybernetics» 1995

I want to cultivate a deep sense of gratitude, of groundedness, of enough, even while I’m longing for something more. I’m practicing believing that God knows more than I know, that he sees what I can’t, that he’s weaving a future I can’t even imagine from where I sit this morning.
—  Shauna Niequist, Savor October 26

Les Mis/LOTR Aesthetic: Lovely Ladies

Eponine of Esgaroth (Lake-Town)

I was born and bred on these waters, Master Dwarf. If I wanted to kill you, I would not do it here.

Musichetta of Dale 

The Lord of Silver Fountains, The King of Carven Stone,
The King Beneath the Mountain, shall come into his own.
And the bells shall ring in gladness, at the Mountain King’s return,
But all shall fail in sadness, and the Lake will shine and burn.

Floreal Brandybuck 

It is best to love first what you are fitted to love, I suppose: you must start somewhere and have some roots, and the soil of the Shire is deep. Still there are things deeper and higher…

Cosette of Lothlorien

But perhaps you could call her perilous because she’s so strong in herself. You, you could dash yourself to pieces on her, like a ship on a rock, or drown yourself, like a Hobbit in a river, but neither rock nor river would be to blame.

Extra HCs:

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So in order to work through writer’s block I’m making myself put my music on shuffle and write 10 drabbles for 10 songs. No skipping. This could go very badly tbh. But. This is the first one. The NSFW bit is under a cut. :)

1. Are You That Somebody - Aaliyah

Oh boy, see I’m trusting you with my heart, my soul

Zayn tugs at the edge of his beanie, pulling it further over his ears to ward against the early spring chill. Sneaking out was easier than he’d thought it would be and guilt still tugs at the edges of his stomach over it. He’s never openly defied his parents before. He hasn’t always been an easy kid, but he’s always toed the line before now.

Above his head the sodium bulb of the street lamp glows dull orange and plunges into darkness before flickering back to life. It’s dying, like everything else in this town. The slow cycling death seems an apt metaphor.

Two months ago Zayn’s main goal was to focus on his grades and get out. It’s something his parents have pushed him on forever and he hasn’t always been grateful for it, but his future is looming and uni is just around the corner. Escape from a dead end job and a grim day to day existence seems possible.

Two months ago Zayn met Liam Payne in a chip shop and his dedication to academic excellence started to unravel. He can’t help himself. All he wants is Liam’s hands on him, Liam’s voice in his ear, Liam’s attention wrapped around him like a blanket. He’s not failing or anything, but the dip in focus hasn’t gone unnoticed by his parents and he’s been barred from seeing Liam for the time being.

Hence, waiting under a dying street lamp around the corner in front of the sad little park he used to play in when he was younger. Nerves clench his stomach and Zayn stops himself from checking his phone. Liam will show. He’s never late.

Zayn hears Liam’s car before he sees it, motor knocking unhealthily under the hood. The fact that the poor thing is still driving around is a minor miracle, but Liam loves it like a child even though he really knows very little about cars. Liam pulls alongside Zayn in a rough idle and rolls down the window.

“Need a ride?” he asks with a quirked eyebrow and mischievous grin.

Zayn rolls his eyes and slides into the passenger seat. “You’re not cute,” he lies.

“I’m adorable,” Liam counters, pushing his full lower lip into a pout.

Zayn leans over and kisses him, nibbling lightly on his plush lower lip because it’s on display and he can’t help himself. Liam’s mouth is an invitation to sin and Zayn has spent far too many hours fixating on it. He forces himself to pull away rather than deepening the kiss because they’re still in the neighborhood and anyone could see them and rat Zayn out to his mom.

“Take me somewhere nice,” he demands imperiously.

Liam snorts. “Yeah, babe. Our options are wide open. You want the abandoned mill or the abandoned hospital? You know we’re not leaving the car anyway.”

“The mill,” Zayn replies quickly. The hospital gives him the creeps. It’s partially demolished and looks like the scene of a horror movie. Especially at night.

All they really need is a place to park behind that hides them from the road. Abandoned buildings just have fewer patrols than, say, a shopping center. The last thing Zayn needs is to be busted by the police and escorted home. He would be grounded till he’s forty.

Zayn rests his palm on Liam’s leg, hoping he’ll cover it with his own. He doesn’t, hands firmly at 10 and 2 like a proper old man. It’s kind of sweet how cautious he is, if mildly frustrating. Liam takes his eyes off the completely empty road for half a second to smile warmly over at Zayn.

“I missed you,” Liam murmurs.

“Me too,” Zayn confesses. “I hate not being able to see you.”

Liam pulls off the road into the lot surrounding the old mill. Gravel crunches under the tires as he slowly drives around to the back side. Broken, hollowed out windows glare down at them and Zayn suppresses a shiver. It’s not as creepy as the hospital, but it’s still pretty eery. The second Liam shifts the car into park, Zayn has his seatbelt off and is swinging over to straddle Liam’s lap.

“Hi,” Liam says with a grin, hands coming up to cradle Zayn’s hips.

“Hi,” Zayn replies somewhat breathlessly. 

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Ash -part 5- Ms Anna

Annabella Bobbins used to be a student at Elsewhere University. Or at least an elsewhere university. She had been on campus since the university opened, an arts major studying costume and garment design. No one’s too sure now if the university actually ever offered such a course, but Annabella studied it anyway.

She swiftly became a master at her craft. Her design sketches littered her sketch book in page after page of wonder and creativity. Her skills with a needle were constantly being worked on, always sewing, or knitting or crafting some magnificent garment.

Soon Annabella began making her own needles ‘they just felt better’ she would say, more real in her hands. During her last semester Annabella could be seen wandering around campus, finding inspiration in everything she saw, working what she saw into her craft. In the last week’s they say she stopped using metal needles completely, only ever using needles shed made herself.

They say she is the greatest crafter you could ever meet, that she could spin you dreams, sew together broken souls with threads of spider webs, that she could weave you a future from the stars.

No one’s too sure when Annabella Bobbins became Ms Anna. No ones too certain at what point she stopped being fully human and became fae touched, no one knows when she went just another step too far. But now you can see her on campus still, wandering through trees and fog, searching for her latest inspiration.

The lady loves Ms Anna, she always wonders what Annabella could do if she found the right muse.

Part 1Part 2Part 3Part 4Part 5Part 6Part 7

By Meagan A. Dwyer (NutMegThings)

You draw me in with promises of love and safety, swearing to me that I’m the only one you want and need, and that this time you’re going to get it right you promise and I promise to always love you and you whisper in my ear the vision of us, you weave our future together right in front of my eyes, excitement courses through my veins, lighting a fire inside me I never knew existed, you give me every reason to feel alive to feel like I’m flying, you send electricity through my body when you look at me, and I look at you and all I want to do is spend the rest of my life loving you and I’m so happy but you’ve never been good at keeping promises, have you? Just as I’m leaning into the warmth of your body, and the laughter in your eyes, you’re gone again, and I’m left with the cold that surrounded me before you and will continue to surround me after you. I tell you that I’m done, that I’m not letting you hurt me any more than you already have, and I tell myself that I deserve better, and I try. I really do. but I look for you in every guy I meet, I look for your words in his, and I look for your eyes, but I never find them. So when you come back I don’t stop you I don’t know if you love me I hope you do but I’ve never felt more alive than when you tell me you love me and after all I promised to love you forever.

Mark- Cute, Little Grandbabies

Group: NCT- Mark

Theme: Comeback Special

Type: drabble- fluff (its so pure I can’t)

Plot: You find Mark still practicing alone late at night and you tell him why he should rest and take of himself.

Inspo: X and I recommend to listen to this X before reading, it’ll set the mood

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Hannibal and Synchronicity

Because of a Criminal Minds episode, I began reading up on Carl Jung’s theory of synchronicity, and in doing so, had my mind blown when I started applying the theory to Hannibal. The theory of synchronicity suggests that there are simultaneous occurrence of events that appear significantly related but have no discernible causal connection. A very basic example of this is driving into a parking lot which you know to be difficult to find parking in, but as soon as you arrive, another car pulls out and leaves an open space just for you. A few other examples include losing your job but immediately finding a new job without having to apply for one, telling someone about an illness you are having and that person knowing the exact right doctor to help you get well, or leaving a romantic relationship and immediately finding someone new to date.

The theory began because Jung was treating a woman who was very internalized, locked into her own mind and fears. Her therapy was going nowhere until one night, she had a dream that someone offered her a golden scarab. The next day, as she was telling Jung about her dream, there came a ticking sound on the window. Jung reached out the window and grabbed the bug which had just flown onto the window. It happened to be a scarabaeid beetle whose gold-green color resembled that of the bug in the patient’s dream. The patient was so jarred by the synchronous moment that her shell was pierced and she was able to successfully continue treatment.

Hannibal begins almost immediately with synchronicity. Since we can’t really see what happened before the show began, we can only assume that Hannibal has been seeing Bedelia Du Maurier for years, and that he has previously admitted his loneliness to her, which he describes in later episodes after getting to know Will. The synchronicity of the moment is that aside from Jack pulling Will into the investigation, Will’s and Hannibal’s meeting was a complete coincidence. At the very time Hannibal has grown lonely in his secluded lifestyle of killing and cooking, he meets someone who perfectly fits his needs for a partner. And Will, who is unwittingly suffering from encephalitis, meets someone who had the ability to treat him before it became fatal. That Hannibal didn’t use his incredible olfactory sense to treat Will isn’t synchronicity, it’s just him being an asshole.

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“One day, there will be no freedom. One day, it will be gone and those of you who survive the culling will be subjected to something that is in no way living or dying.“ 
 “But that is not the future the Fates have decided for you. My birth, my mere existence, is proof to you that their vision is not one of not yet dead corpses slaving away under the direction of a select few. I can save you from this. I can mend the moth-eaten fabric of life and help weave a better future for so many of you. I exist because I was meant to do this.”
 "I embody their will. I embody their intentions. I embody their power to control. I am Moirai, the embodiment of Fate.”

-do kyungsoo. moirai. supervillains au


Pitsty, Jaská, Alvilda, Boss (Spitpeck), Pincher, Naplegs

An old tradition of Berk is for the young girls of the village of a certain age until marriage to work the Great Hall. Cooking the meals for the rest of the village, cleaning, upkeep, occasional babysitting and sewing/weaving. Training for their future as wives/mothers. It hasn’t been enforced in the past couple generations, due to the dragon epidemic. Ruffnut and Astrid had no interest in such things (and Astrid’s experimental nature in the kitchen was not something that was missed by the populace), and besides, the girls of Berk had better things to do. But a few years after the Battle at the Nest, Chief Hiccup reinforced this task force, thinking it would give the girls of Berk something to do when they’re not training/flying their dragons. The girls, shown above, took to their new duties well. Too well. Not only do they do a spectacular job keeping the Great Hall, but they’ve somehow and inexplicably become an integral part the happenings on Berk and the surrounding islands. Nothing happens in the Archipelago without them knowing of it. And if they find out something about you (and they will) it’ll take a pretty price to make sure everyone who enters the Great Hall doesn’t mysteriously hear about it. They’re also the ones to go to if you need to get something done. Even Chief Hiccup, when he needs something done that’s not the standard run-of-the-mill procedure, goes to them, and trust me, it. Gets. Done. But at a hefty price, a price even the Chief is not exempt from. They’re not ones to double cross, even innocently: there have been a few mysterious cases of food poisoning that’s origin and intent have not been able to be proven. Basically they’re the mean girls of Berk. They have dirt on everyone. They get shit done. You don’t want to cross them

I don’t know, I really like the idea of everyone on Berk (adult Hiccup included) having to adhere to the whims and cunning of a gang of teen/pre-teen girls.

[Aldnoah Zero/Orangebat] Nightmares

Sooo last week that whole “weaving a new future” picture with Slaine and Inaho happily drinking tea and playing chess right next to a garden full of bridal roses really screwed me up because DID INAHO EVER PROPOSE TO SLAINE? DID THEY EVER GET MARRIED? I DON’T KNOW. THE WORLD WILL NEVER KNOW. I can only hope Inaho can stop playing chess with Slaine because ughhhh obviously that is way less important than proposing to Slaine silly Nao-Kun! please go get married you two 

enough ranting. Basically I just really want to see Slaine and Inaho happy forever so yeah…..another orangebat fanfic. Hope you will like it! 



This is not the first time Inaho waken up in the middle of the night because of Slaine’s horrified cries, yet it never ceases to pain him when he hears Slaine screaming in his sleep.

“No! Please……don’t……I am sorry……stop……!”

Inaho sits up immediately and turns on the small lamp next to their bed. He can see that Slaine’s pale face is covered with tear tracks. The pale blond is gripping his shirt tightly and shaking his head as he lets out heartbreaking sobs. Watching Slaine in such fear pains Inaho. He reaches out and wipes away his tears softly.

“Slaine. Wake up. It’s a dream.” Inaho shakes Slaine’s shoulders and tries to wake him up. Slaine’s glossy eyes open widely, and he turns his head towards Inaho with a panicked expression on his face. “Inaho……?”

“Yes. I am here. You are fine now, Slaine. You are safe here.” Safe from whatever that was trying to hurt you. Inaho brings Slaine into his embrace, gently putting his arms around him and letting Slaine put his face against his chest. He remembers one time after Slaine has woken up by nightmare, he had asked to be hugged like this, hearing Inaho’s heartbeat somehow helped calm him.

“I……I am sorry, I have waken you again……I am fine now……” Slaine lowers his gaze apologetically, he can’t help but to think about all the trouble he has caused Inaho up to this point. Inaho has sacrificed so much in order to be with him, yet he has done so little for Inaho in return.

“Don’t apologize.” Inaho kisses the corner of Slaine’s eyes, it hurts every time to see Slaine cry. It reminds Inaho of how much suffering Slaine has been through, and how little he could do for him to take his pain away. “I am happy with my life right now. I wouldn’t change a thing. ” Sensing Slaine’s guilt and uncertainty, Inaho put his hand on Slaine’s face and caresses his cheek slowly. “Now, you are not telling me the truth. Slaine, you are still shaking. If you want to talk about it, I am here to listen. If you don’t want to, that is fine too.”

Even Inaho must admit himself, normally it is rare for him to reveal his emotions so blatantly. However, when he is with Slaine, everything just feels simple and natural. If Slaine is feeling scared and hurt, it will only be logical for him to do anything to comfort him and make him feel secure again.

“…….I……I had a dream about the war, and all the people that died because of me.” Slaine buries his face on Inaho’s shoulder, his voice broken and regretful. “It was all my fault……”

He should have died that day. Sometimes these kinds of thoughts appear in Slaine’s head, and staring back at himself in the mirror, he couldn’t help but to agree. He has committed numerous crimes, taking away lives of countless people. This kind of happiness doesn’t belong to him.

In his dream, he saw the faces of those who fought along with him. He saw the faces of those who fought against him. He watched their demise helplessly; the flames of war destroyed everything before his eyes.

But that wasn’t the worst part of Slaine’s nightmare.

This is the part that Slaine truly does not want to reveal to Inaho. He is afraid that Inaho will hate him after listening to it. But he can’t lie to Inaho. Not after he has promised Inaho that he will stop hiding his feeling from him.

“I……I……also dreamed about……the day I shot you……” Slaine’s body starts trembling again, his eyes fill with tears, it was the exact moment he does not want to relive. “I wanted to stop……but I couldn’t control my body……I shot you……Inaho……it was me who gave you that wound…….” The wound that nearly killed Inaho Kaizuka. The wound that nearly took him away from all his loved ones. Inaho had all the reasons in the world to resent him. But instead, Inaho gave him his love.

“Slaine, that will never happen again.” Much to Slaine’s surprise, Inaho is calm, as usual. “That was part of the past. We are living in the present. We used to be enemies, but we are not anymore. ” Inaho turns Slaine’s face towards him, he needs to hear this from Slaine. In order to move on from what has happened in the past, they need to be on the same page. “Tell me, Slaine, what are we now?”

“Lo……Lovers.” Slaine whispers softly, as if the meaning behind these words are too good to be true. Saying it aloud made him blush slightly. Inaho’s words has an unbelievable effect on him. The fear is gone. “We are lovers.”

“That is correct.” Inaho’s lips curve in a small smile. He is pleased by Slaine’s answer. “We will never fight as enemies again.” Inaho has swore that he will not allow that to happen. Slaine has been fighting alone for too long. If anything, they will be fighting together, on the same side. “Now, if you don’t want to go back to sleep, I can make you a snack, and we can stay up and watch TV.” At this hour, there is probably nothing interesting to watch, but that might actually calm Slaine down and helps him fall asleep.

Slaine immediately shakes his head, he has already woken Inaho up in the middle of the night and disrupted his sleep. “No, it’s fine, it is pretty late already, and you have to get up early for work……”

“I am not working tomorrow. I have taken off work.” Seeing the confusion on Slaine’s face, Inaho gently strokes Slaine’s hair. “Did you forget? Tomorrow is our one month anniversary. I thought we should celebrate. The weather is supposed to be nice tomorrow, we could have a picnic outside, and I will make you a lot of sandwiches, just like the one you and your father had when you were little.”

“Inaho……I…….didn’t know you were planning for this……thank you.” Slaine can feel the warmth surrounding his heart. He feels Inaho’s arms tightening around him. He closes his eye and let Inaho lean closer to kiss him. “I will be looking forward to the picnic.”

“Will you be able to sleep? We can stay up longer.” Inaho’s voice is full of concern. After having that kind of nightmare, it must be difficult to go back to sleep. He does not want to see Slaine wake up crying anymore.

“I will be fine. Really.” Slaine nods, after a moment he adds: “besides, if I don’t sleep now, I will be tired tomorrow when we have the picnic.”

Inaho kisses Slaine again before lying back down on the bed with him. “You are very brave. Slaine Troyard.” It takes a lot of courage to face your own fears. Slaine looks at him and smiles shyly.

“Good night, Inaho.”

“Good night, Slaine.”

Slaine closes his eyes. His mind drifting away further and further, before he completely fell asleep, he can still feel Inaho’s warmth.

This time, there are no more nightmares.



because Inaho is like a genius and so smart and so good with numbers and stuff, I feel like he would be really good at remembering dates and stuff. Like their anniversary. Which I thought was really cute. 

please give me more happy orangebat as I still haven’t recovered from that finale yet…………….

Long ago, oh so long ago, the woods and wealds of these isles housed only a few great houses. They did not even call themselves houses then, did you know? They just had magic and could trace their lines to ancient powers - The Wledig clan, now Weasley could go all the way back to Boudicca - a muggle but a warrior who fought for her lands and daughters and people and the magic of their holy druids.

Then there were the Prewetts, then Prytherch, and the Nancarrowes, now the Carrows. They each had their family lines too, and their own interactions with magic. They all have their own folklore. The Weasleys almost never have daughters do you recall? They say it was a curse laid on them, for they are descended of Boudicca and Boudicca’s daughters, fierce warrior women all, and in fear men cursed them to only birth women every fifth generation. Or only after six boys had been first birthed. No seventh sons for them. But the girls of the Weasleys, Boudicca’s daughters all, flame haired and fire hearted and fierce as the one who mothered their line. The father of their line traced down to Amlawdd Wledig, who sired Igraine, dam of Arthur, king of Camelot, and their Squibs mingled with the line of Aberfraww, which sired the warrior princess Gwenllian ferch Gruffydd, known so well to resemble Boudicca-who-came-before. Their ties to muggles have left them long loyal to that kind.

Notts, Seiðmenn from across the ocean, weaving futures from thread and thought, weaving bad luck to lines they disliked. Rowles, with their shields and their battle fervour. From across the sea; Rosier and Lestrange, Macnair and Mulciber and Malfoy and all, sweeping down the plains on the battlefield of Hastings. 

How they warred amongst themselves.

Yet many years later, when it seemed their land was in crisis - kings who cared little for the prosperity of the land so much as for the prosperity of their names (and their treasuries), they bound themselves with many great oaths. In those troublesome days they all came to England’s holiest place and there laid their arms down - never take up arms against each other save in the name of the land; of doing that which was best for it - for England’s glory and honour. There, in the last days of the last true Plantagenet king they swore a terrible oath to bind them to the fortunes of the land; to ever seek the best for it. And should they break this oath, then death take them all.

This is not to say they agreed at all about that which was best or true and therein lay the problem.

They were not all of one mind, save that they loved the land that they all called their own and even in that, they contested each other sorely. The Blacks and Weasleys, Carrows, Selwyns and Weasleys - first settlers of the land - believed the land to have been stolen from them by the invaders. The rift went even deeper, beyond war and to their womenfolk. Until the Angles and the Saxons the Normans came ashore, bringing with them their muggle notions of how the sexes should behave, these ancient families had been led by their menfolk as by their women. Now, these strangers, invaders, came with rules of their own. Women were to be quieter. Modest. Mild. Meek.

Should a warring Celt suffer such an insult without taking up arms to avenge themselves?

No. For many long years they had been at war with each other, determined to make the strangers break and send them back home. They did not bear it - to bear such follies with their heads bowed meekly was not their way. But then, they came together at Llechllafar - the talking stone, where Merlin had once prophesied the failure of a king - and they swore a great many things and agreed to a great many rules all in the name of service to their country. A higher aim united them all - as it would time and time again, though they despised each other deeply. 

The world, such as it is, changed and their womenfolk, though not stripped of their power, gradually faded away, to leave the warring to their men. Such effects, purely unintentional, were produced by these oaths. This is the absurdity of the world.

Greater ones were yet to follow.

Families swore oaths, on swords, on houses, on blood, to uphold one set of values, one set of beliefs. How many still do? How many instead, are fading, weakened by vows let down, or indeed, vows twisted or misplaced? How many disappeared, their long lines torn apart by the oaths they had once sworn and then swiftly forgotten?

Its hard to know, so many set to decline by twisted oaths are gone already, and where an oath-curse falls it is subtle and twining, gradually, slowly, throttling out family vines, as though they are little more than dust, to blow away in the breeze.

(Co-written by the brilliant essayofthoughts and me.)


Moffat’s Women - The Moment
“The galaxy eater… A weapon so powerful, the operating system became sentient. According to legend, it developed a conscience.” And yet so much more than that. The Moment possesses not merely a sense of morality, her entire being is infused with a very particular wisdom, born of humour and painful truth, kindness and judgement. She is the ultimate destructor and yet chooses the role of a guide and the face of someone who sought to keep the Doctor safe. Her unspeakable power weaves pasts and futures together until a different, wondrous path appears. And Gallifrey is not burned but preserved. In a single moment.

I want to cultivate a deep sense of gratitude, of groundedness, of enough, even while I’m longing for something more. The longing and the gratitude, both. I’m practicing believing that God knows more than I know, that he sees what I can’t, that he’s weaving a future I can’t even imagine from where I’m sitting this morning.
—  Shauna Niequist, Bread & Wine