Pimp: Fandom Gift Basket 2025
Jul. 26th, 2025 12:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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fandomgiftbasket rides again! Sign-ups open on August 23. Check out the Dates, Rules & FAQ post for more information.spikedluvfandomgiftbasket rides again! Sign-ups open on August 23. Check out the Dates, Rules & FAQ post for more information.(no subject)
Jul. 26th, 2025 08:00 amskygiantsThere are some books that I can't read until I've achieved a pleasing balance of people whose taste I trust who think the book is good, and people whose taste I trust who think the book is bad. This allows me to cleanse my heart and form my own opinion in perfect neutrality.
As it happened I hit this balance for The Ministry of Time some time ago, but then I still needed to take a while longer to read it because, unfortunately, I was cursed with the knowledge that a.) it was Terror fanfiction and b.) it was on Obama's 2024 summer reading list and c.) I had chanced across the phrase "Obama says RPF is fine" on Tumblr and could not look at the front cover of Ministry of Time without bursting into laughter. And I wanted to come to this book with a clear heart! an open mind! so I waited!
.... and then all of that waiting was in fact completely fruitless, I was never going to be able to come to this book with a clear heart and an open mind, because, Terror fanfiction aside, I'm like 99% sure that it's either a direct response to Kage Baker's Company series or Kaliane Bradley is possessed by Kage Baker's ghost. Welcome back, Edward Alton Bell-Fairfax! The mere fact that you're so much less annoying this time around means I'm grading on a huge curve!
Okay, so the central two figures of The Ministry of Time are our narrator -- a second-gen Cambodian-English government translator whose mother fled the Khmer Rouge, and who has gotten shuffled into a top-secret government project working with 'unusual refugees' -- and Polar Explorer Graham Gore Of The Doomed Franklin Expedition, who has been rescued from his miserable death on the ice and brought forward into the future by the aforementioned top-secret government project.
The project also includes a small handful of other time rescuees -- Graham Gore is the only actual factual historical figure, and frankly I think the book would be better if he wasn't, but that's a sidenote. Each time refugee gets a 'bridge' to live with them and help them acclimate; in Gore's case, that's our narrator. The first seventy to eighty percent of the book consists mostly of loving, detailed, funny descriptions of the narrator hanging out with the time refugees as they adapt to The Near Future, interspersed with a.) dark hints about the sinister nature of the project and the narrator's increasing isolation within it that she repeatedly apologizes to us for ignoring, b.) dark hints about the oncoming climate apocalypse, c.) reflections the narrator's relationship to her family history, and d.) intermittent bits of Terror fanfiction about Gore's Time On the Ice.
I do not think this part of the book is necessarily well-structured or paced, but I did have a great time with it. Does it feel fanfictional? Oh, yes. The infrastructure that surrounds this hypothetical government project is almost entirely nonexistent in order to conveniently allow the narrator long, uninterrupted stretches to attempt to introduce Graham Gore to various forms of pop music;genarti described it cruelly but perhaps accurately as "Avengers tower fanfic". But I like the thematic link between time travelers and refugees, and I like the jokes, and I like the thing Bradley is doing -- the thing Kage Baker does, that I am extremely weak to -- where just when you're lulled into enjoying the humor of anachronism and the sense of humanity's universal connection you run smack into an unexpected, uncrossable cultural gap and bruise your nose.
Now, this only ever happens with Gore, because Gore is the only one of the refugees who is a real person in several ways. Margaret (the seventeenth-century lesbian) and Arthur (the gay WWI officer) are likeable gay sidekicks, and then there's a seventeenth-century asshole whose name I've forgotten. At one point Arthur tosses off a mention to his commanding officer 'Owen who wrote poetry' and I nearly threw the book across the room. Have the courage of your convictions, Kaliane Bradley! None of these coy little hints, either do the work to kidnap Wilfred Owen and Margery Kempe from history or don't! But Gore is obsessively drawn and theorized and researched, because, of course, the whole book is largely about Being Obsessed With Gore, about interrogating why the narrator, a not-quite-white-passing brown woman from an immigrant family, has built her whole life around this sexy British naval officer turned time refugee, symbolic of the crimes and failures of empire in six or seven different directions. A bit navel-gazey, perhaps, but as a person who spent five books begging Kage Baker to think at all critically about the horrible British naval officer turned time refugee she'd built, I'm just like, 'well, thank God!'
And, again, for the five people who care, I cannot emphasize enough just how similar Gore is to Edward Alton Bell-Fairfax and yet miraculously how much less annoying. They both have a code of ethics formed by the loyal and genuine belief in the good work done by the British Imperial project (thematically and historically reasonable); a shocking level of natural charisma combined with various secret agent skills at weaponry, deception, strategy and theft (extremely funny, extra funny with Gore because as far as I can tell what we know about him From History is 'normal officer! popular guy!'); and -- such a specific detail to have in common! -- Big Sexy Nose That The Man In Question Is Really Self-Conscious About.
And both of them, of course, end up struggling to navigate their positionality in the Imperial machine, between government operative-with-agency and experimental-subject-with-none.
So that's the first seventy to eighty percent of the book, and then, in the last twenty to thirty percent of the book, the dark hints finally resolve into the actual plot, ( which is IMO successful in theme but completely goofy in actual detail )
As it happened I hit this balance for The Ministry of Time some time ago, but then I still needed to take a while longer to read it because, unfortunately, I was cursed with the knowledge that a.) it was Terror fanfiction and b.) it was on Obama's 2024 summer reading list and c.) I had chanced across the phrase "Obama says RPF is fine" on Tumblr and could not look at the front cover of Ministry of Time without bursting into laughter. And I wanted to come to this book with a clear heart! an open mind! so I waited!
.... and then all of that waiting was in fact completely fruitless, I was never going to be able to come to this book with a clear heart and an open mind, because, Terror fanfiction aside, I'm like 99% sure that it's either a direct response to Kage Baker's Company series or Kaliane Bradley is possessed by Kage Baker's ghost. Welcome back, Edward Alton Bell-Fairfax! The mere fact that you're so much less annoying this time around means I'm grading on a huge curve!
Okay, so the central two figures of The Ministry of Time are our narrator -- a second-gen Cambodian-English government translator whose mother fled the Khmer Rouge, and who has gotten shuffled into a top-secret government project working with 'unusual refugees' -- and Polar Explorer Graham Gore Of The Doomed Franklin Expedition, who has been rescued from his miserable death on the ice and brought forward into the future by the aforementioned top-secret government project.
The project also includes a small handful of other time rescuees -- Graham Gore is the only actual factual historical figure, and frankly I think the book would be better if he wasn't, but that's a sidenote. Each time refugee gets a 'bridge' to live with them and help them acclimate; in Gore's case, that's our narrator. The first seventy to eighty percent of the book consists mostly of loving, detailed, funny descriptions of the narrator hanging out with the time refugees as they adapt to The Near Future, interspersed with a.) dark hints about the sinister nature of the project and the narrator's increasing isolation within it that she repeatedly apologizes to us for ignoring, b.) dark hints about the oncoming climate apocalypse, c.) reflections the narrator's relationship to her family history, and d.) intermittent bits of Terror fanfiction about Gore's Time On the Ice.
I do not think this part of the book is necessarily well-structured or paced, but I did have a great time with it. Does it feel fanfictional? Oh, yes. The infrastructure that surrounds this hypothetical government project is almost entirely nonexistent in order to conveniently allow the narrator long, uninterrupted stretches to attempt to introduce Graham Gore to various forms of pop music;
genarti described it cruelly but perhaps accurately as "Avengers tower fanfic". But I like the thematic link between time travelers and refugees, and I like the jokes, and I like the thing Bradley is doing -- the thing Kage Baker does, that I am extremely weak to -- where just when you're lulled into enjoying the humor of anachronism and the sense of humanity's universal connection you run smack into an unexpected, uncrossable cultural gap and bruise your nose. Now, this only ever happens with Gore, because Gore is the only one of the refugees who is a real person in several ways. Margaret (the seventeenth-century lesbian) and Arthur (the gay WWI officer) are likeable gay sidekicks, and then there's a seventeenth-century asshole whose name I've forgotten. At one point Arthur tosses off a mention to his commanding officer 'Owen who wrote poetry' and I nearly threw the book across the room. Have the courage of your convictions, Kaliane Bradley! None of these coy little hints, either do the work to kidnap Wilfred Owen and Margery Kempe from history or don't! But Gore is obsessively drawn and theorized and researched, because, of course, the whole book is largely about Being Obsessed With Gore, about interrogating why the narrator, a not-quite-white-passing brown woman from an immigrant family, has built her whole life around this sexy British naval officer turned time refugee, symbolic of the crimes and failures of empire in six or seven different directions. A bit navel-gazey, perhaps, but as a person who spent five books begging Kage Baker to think at all critically about the horrible British naval officer turned time refugee she'd built, I'm just like, 'well, thank God!'
And, again, for the five people who care, I cannot emphasize enough just how similar Gore is to Edward Alton Bell-Fairfax and yet miraculously how much less annoying. They both have a code of ethics formed by the loyal and genuine belief in the good work done by the British Imperial project (thematically and historically reasonable); a shocking level of natural charisma combined with various secret agent skills at weaponry, deception, strategy and theft (extremely funny, extra funny with Gore because as far as I can tell what we know about him From History is 'normal officer! popular guy!'); and -- such a specific detail to have in common! -- Big Sexy Nose That The Man In Question Is Really Self-Conscious About.
And both of them, of course, end up struggling to navigate their positionality in the Imperial machine, between government operative-with-agency and experimental-subject-with-none.
So that's the first seventy to eighty percent of the book, and then, in the last twenty to thirty percent of the book, the dark hints finally resolve into the actual plot, ( which is IMO successful in theme but completely goofy in actual detail )
Don’t push the horses.
Jul. 26th, 2025 01:05 pm![[syndicated profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/feed.png){kind=small}
thecounteroffensive_feed
Editor’s Note: Last weekend’s Usyk heavyweight win was not only a single man’s victory – it was a point of national pride. It boosted Ukrainian morale, acted as a point of unity, and showed the world that the country can fight – on and off the battlefield.
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“When I’m buried, let them place my favorite hand wraps, mouthguard, and boxing gloves with me,” said the Ukrainian Maik Taison (Майк Тайсон), who changed his birth name as soon as boxing became the meaning of his life in 2018.
His life was a battle from the start: first against bullies in his orphanage, then with weapons on the front line, and finally against opponents in the ring.
Now, he hopes to follow the footsteps of his idol: Ukrainian boxer Oleksandr Usyk, who last weekend became the world’s undisputed heavyweight champion after defeating British fighter Daniel Dubois via knockout.
While society is growing weary from the war against Russia, any victory, even in the boxing ring, helps Ukrainians renew their belief in their resilience. Ukrainian boxing has become a form of cultural diplomacy, reinforcing Ukraine’s image as a nation that will never surrender.
Zoltan Lakatosh (Maik Taison’s birth name) grew up in an orphanage in Uzhhorod, a city in the Zakarpattia region in southwestern Ukraine, after his parents abandoned him at birth. At times, he went hungry and didn’t have a roof over his head. Despite the hardships, he never gave up.
In 2014, when Russia invaded eastern Ukraine, Taison volunteered for military service and served in some of the most intense areas of the Donetsk region. At just 19 years old, Taison was the youngest member of his unit. It was during that time that his nickname was born.
Amid the extraordinary physical strength he showed during one of the missions, his fellow soldiers began calling him Taison, after the legendary American boxer Mike Tyson.
“I spent a week asking the guys who Tyson was. When I saw a video [of the boxer], my life completely changed... He showed me a goal — who I could become, what I could achieve in sports,” said Taison.
After being discharged from military service in 2016, Maik walked into a boxing gym by chance, trying to get out of the heavy rain. He wasn’t interested in boxing at first, but after being robbed and beaten up a few days later, he returned and it was to become his life’s passion.
At first, the local coach didn’t want to train him, because he thought that Maik was interested in boxing only to get revenge on his robbers. But after learning that Taison was a combat veteran, he agreed.
Since then, the Ukrainian Taison has not been able to imagine his life without boxing. In 2018, he officially changed his name to Maik Taison and got a tattoo identical to the one the American boxer has.
Of all sports, Ukraine has found perhaps the most success in boxing. During the Soviet Union, sport was considered an inseparable part of ideological upbringing: the regime needed to prove that socialist people were superior to those in the West. Boxing schools emerged in major Ukrainian cities, and their fighters competed within the USSR and internationally.
However, it wasn’t until after Ukraine gained independence that Ukrainian boxers began to gain worldwide recognition. Integrating Western training methods, Ukraine developed a unique training philosophy—one that emphasized not only physical strength but also strategy.
The first to introduce Ukraine to the global boxing stage were the Klychko brothers. The younger brother, Volodymyr, won Ukraine’s first-ever Olympic gold medal in super heavyweight boxing at the 1996 Olympics. The older brother is now the mayor of Kyiv.
“People used to know Ukraine because of Chornobyl, but now Ukraine appeared as a country with [boxing] stars who were recognized worldwide… Our boxers always raise the Ukrainian flag before fights, the national anthem plays at the beginning. As a result, people understand that Ukraine is a separate country, not a part of Russia,” said Oleh Kuderov, the vice president of Ukraine’s national boxing league.
At the beginning of the full-scale invasion, the Klychko brothers were the second most recognized Ukrainians in the world, right after President Zelenskyy.
That’s no surprise: in 2018, they were featured in the Guinness Book of World Records for competing in the most heavyweight title fights. Today, Ukraine is home to 14 world champions – a disproportionately high number considering the country’s relatively small size.
Maik Taison’s inspiration comes from the new generation of Ukrainian boxers, particularly those who have risen to prominence since the start of the full-scale war.
Since the invasion began, Ukrainian boxing, together with many other sports, has faced enormous challenges. As of summer 2024, over 500 sports facilities have been destroyed in Ukraine, including gyms and training complexes where boxing was taught. Some boxers have also joined the military, while others were forced to train abroad.
One was Oleksandr Usyk — the boxer the world is talking about this week. In February 2022, Usyk enlisted in the territorial defense forces, putting his boxing career on hold. Still, that didn’t stop him from becoming the first three-time undisputed heavyweight champion in the history of professional boxing. Throughout his entire pro career, Usyk has never lost a fight.
"Ukrainians are the best boxers. Usyk proves in every fight that we, as a nation, are unbeatable," said Taison. "He speaks Ukrainian, sings Ukrainian songs, dances the hopak [a traditional folk dance] during training, spreading our culture."
Boxing rings around the world have become platforms for Ukraine’s voice and the promotion of Ukrainian culture. For example, Denys Berinchyk, lightweight world champion in 2024-2025, began his bout against Mexico’s Emanuel Navarrete with the blare of an air raid siren that millions of Ukrainians hear daily as a warning of incoming attacks.
After a triumphant victory in 2024, Oleksandr Usyk raised an authentic 17th-century saber once belonging to Ukrainian Hetman Ivan Mazepa. For Ukraine, Mazepa is a symbol of its people resisting Russian attempts to occupy our country since the 18th century. Back then, he helped develop Ukrainian culture and opposed Moscow's demands. It was a symbolic gesture, as Mazepa remains a controversial figure in Russia, where the Russian Orthodox Church declared him anathema for rebelling against Moscow.
And ahead of his most recent fight, Usyk unveiled in London a replica of a Ukrainian mosaic by Alla Horska, a dissident artist repressed by the Soviet regime. The original mosaic was destroyed by Russian forces during the 2022 siege of Mariupol.
But if there’s one more thing Ukrainians are also known for, it’s their sense of humor.
Before his latest fight, Usyk went viral for saying, “Don’t push the horses,” a literal translation of a Ukrainian idiom meaning “don't rush,” similar to the English idiom “Hold your horses.”
While his opponent’s coach looked puzzled, Ukrainians on social media turned it into a trend, humorously translating other Ukrainian idioms into English.
The phrase “Don't push the horses” was turned into a track.
Although Maik Taison is not yet a professional boxer, he aspires to follow Usyk’s footsteps. To fund his training, he has been working on a construction site. This September, he’ll compete in the Ukrainian National Boxing Championship,
Taison says he trains for several hours a day, with each day dedicated to a different focus. Some sessions are spent refining punches and stances, while others focus on building endurance.
"At every training, I give it 150%. I work like a mammoth until the last drop of sweat… Boxing has made me strong. In spirit, in character, in willpower," he said.
These qualities are shaping the identity of Ukraine’s athletes that continue to represent their country during the war and also the image of Ukraine in the international stage.
Taison is confident: "Ukraine never loses. We’ll withstand this great war and beat every kind of sport."
NEWS OF THE DAY:
By: Anastasiia Kryvoruchenko
Good morning to readers; Kyiv remains in Ukrainian hands.
RUSSIA TRYING TO CAPTURE STRATEGIC TOWN OF POKROVSK: Zelenskyy reported fierce fighting around Pokrovsk, which is the hottest area of the frontline – the situation in the city is the focus of the country's attention.
Pokrovsk is the transportation hub for the front, and is home to Ukraine's only coking coal mine for the steel industry. Over the last week Russia announced the seizure of three villages around Pokrovsk. The Ukrainian government didn’t confirm this claim.
STARLINK FAILURE DISRUPTED UKRAINE MILITARY: Global starlink outage disrupted communications for 2.5 hours at the front, Reuters reported.
Starlink has proven to be effective for use during war, as it is resistant to signal jamming and espionage. However, the outage showed that Ukraine needs to diversify its communication systems.
Kyiv has received a total of 50,000 Starlink terminals as of April 2025. During the Starlink outage, combat missions had to be postponed or carried out without video communications, and reconnaissance was conducted using attack drones.
UKRAINIAN DRONES HIT RUSSIA'S LARGEST ELECTRONIC PLANT: Overnight, SBU drones attacked Russia's Signal radio plant, one of the country's largest radio electronics manufacturers, RBC-Ukraine reported. Two buildings were damaged.
The plant produces radio equipment for remote control, electronic warfare systems used to jam or block communications at the front, and radio navigation. The plant is under international sanctions, including from the EU, the US, Japan and Ukraine.
DOG OF WAR:
Today’s Dog of War is Lilu, the dog of Nastia’s friend. Both she and her girlfriend are groomers, so they dyed Lilu to look like a leopard — she turns heads everywhere she goes.
Stay safe out there.
Best,
Mariana, Tanya and Artem
Casefic Exchange: Post-deadline pinch hits due 8 August.
Jul. 26th, 2025 10:29 pmcasemod posting in yuletideEvent: Casefic Exchange is a fanwork exchange focusing on investigations. These can be solving murders, retrieving stolen items, finding missing people, missions, and mysteries. As long as it has an investigation as its core theme, it fits with the exchange. We are an AO3 exchange; you must have an account and be 18+ to participate.
Minimum requirements: We allow three mediums: a minimum of 3,000 words for fanfiction, a minimum of 10 panels for a comic, or a recording of a completed fic of 3,000 words minimum with "casefic" as one of its tags. Works must include a fandom, character/ship and be of a medium that the recipient has requested.
Event link:caseficexchange.
Pinch hit link: Current pinch hits.
Due date: Friday 8 August at 11:59pm EDT.
Available post-deadline pinch hits:
Thank you for considering!
Minimum requirements: We allow three mediums: a minimum of 3,000 words for fanfiction, a minimum of 10 panels for a comic, or a recording of a completed fic of 3,000 words minimum with "casefic" as one of its tags. Works must include a fandom, character/ship and be of a medium that the recipient has requested.
Event link:
caseficexchange.Pinch hit link: Current pinch hits.
Due date: Friday 8 August at 11:59pm EDT.
Available post-deadline pinch hits:
Thank you for considering!
Events of note
Jul. 26th, 2025 01:16 pmrmc28I last updated about 4 weeks ago, in Portsmouth. That was a good mini break, and I'm really glad R and I decided to do it: fun activities and good company. The heatwave hitting most of the country that weekend was less bad in Portsmouth, but despite reapplying sunscreen we both got burned on the walk back from the pier at Southsea, and didn't realise until the long (made longer by speed restrictions) train journey home was nearly over. The trains had aircon, on comfortable rather than arctic setting, so the journey was fine but stepping out into the humid heat at Cambridge came as a shock.
I took a taxi home, staying just long enough to dump my suitcase and pick up my hockey kit, and cycled (in the heat, ugh) to the rink for a scrimmage marking the last Monday night Warbirds practice, before the rink timetable change in July. Got home again a bit after midnight, and then back to work and the rest of "life as usual" from Tuesday morning.
Life as usual continues to be: work, family, ice hockey. A little cricket (playing), a little football (watching), and a theatre trip that reminded me I should go to the theatre more often.
( Family )
( Ice hockey )
( Cricket )
( Football )
( Theatre )
On the topic of both theatre and schedule, I have a livestream ticket to Phoebe Kemp's all trans/nb production of Twelfth Night (introduced by Ian McKellan); the livestream was last night but I have two weeks to watch the recording. My calendar says my best bets for time to watch it is this afternoon, or next Saturday afternoon. I'm going to try for this afternoon.
The Day in Spikedluv (Friday, July 25)
Jul. 26th, 2025 07:47 amspikedluvI hit the Pharmacy while I was downtown and got in a walk around the park. I dropped a book in the return box at the library and stopped to pick up more beef sticks for Pip on my way to mom’s. I hand-washed dishes and scooped kitty litter.
I wrote more on mysmallfandomfest fic because the deadline is looming! I actually tossed almost 2/3 of what I’d written previously (of ~500 words) and added ~1,000 to that for a total of 1,200 words!! I DNF'd a Kindle cozy and started another.
I forgot to mention that I saw my first fawn on our property! Pip called, come here quick! It takes me a while to get off the bed where I was reading, even without the cat on my lap, but I managed to get a glimpse of the fawn cavorting after its mama just before they disappeared into the tall grass. So cute! Pip thinks we have four fawns, one mama with two, and two mamas with one. Not sure how he tells the two with one apart. o_O
They didn’t advertise (on Facebook or with signs), but they did do another chicken bbq today, so I stopped on the way home and got some. Yes, even though we just had some last weekend, lol!
Temps started out at 75.4(F) (two days ago it was 50 in the morning!) and already humid; it reached 86.9. It was overcast this morning and looked like it would rain, even though they changed the forecast to say no rain for today. The sun eventually came out and it got pretty warm.
Mom Update:
Mom was sitting on the porch when I got there. ( more back here )
I wrote more on my
smallfandomfest fic because the deadline is looming! I actually tossed almost 2/3 of what I’d written previously (of ~500 words) and added ~1,000 to that for a total of 1,200 words!! I DNF'd a Kindle cozy and started another.I forgot to mention that I saw my first fawn on our property! Pip called, come here quick! It takes me a while to get off the bed where I was reading, even without the cat on my lap, but I managed to get a glimpse of the fawn cavorting after its mama just before they disappeared into the tall grass. So cute! Pip thinks we have four fawns, one mama with two, and two mamas with one. Not sure how he tells the two with one apart. o_O
They didn’t advertise (on Facebook or with signs), but they did do another chicken bbq today, so I stopped on the way home and got some. Yes, even though we just had some last weekend, lol!
Temps started out at 75.4(F) (two days ago it was 50 in the morning!) and already humid; it reached 86.9. It was overcast this morning and looked like it would rain, even though they changed the forecast to say no rain for today. The sun eventually came out and it got pretty warm.
Mom Update:
Mom was sitting on the porch when I got there. ( more back here )
Zelensky As A War Leader
Jul. 26th, 2025 08:58 amphillips_p_obrien_feedHi All,
Regular readers of this substack might have twigged that while I sympathize a great deal with the situation in which Volodymyr Zelensky finds himself, I do not normally lather him with praise. I certainly do not go out of my way to criticize him, because of the extraordinary position in which he is, but I also find the overt lionization of him that you can find in some quarters makes me uncomfortable—both on the general principle and the specifics.
In terms of principle, we need to be careful not to look at any war leader as irreplaceable. They often seem that was because they command so much attention (and military forces) and for a while at least the world revolves around them. But this focus, which exagerrates power, often lessens a war leader’s effectiveness. They can increasingly find any criticism intolerable, come to see their own instincts as automatically right, and see the popular adulation that they believe they are receiving (hint—it can be manufactured for them, but they do not always believe that), as proof that they are indispensable.
And they are clearly not. Major war leaders are often replaced during a war, and the results can be an improvement. The British in the First World War are arguably the best example of this. When the Prime Minister at the start of the war, Henry Asquith, was replaced (in a palace coup) by David Lloyd George in 1916, British was leadership became more energetic and effective.
Canadian immigration question
Jul. 26th, 2025 03:11 amstaraniseI have an American friend who would strongly prefer to move their family to Canada. 2 adults, 4 children; both adults have degrees and professional credentials that would transfer across the border. They're currently looking for work, both abroad and in bluer states than theirs.
The question they asked me was:
Any thoughts on the process would be welcome, like if/when a lawyer is needed, or if/when agencies that promise to help with the moving process are actually worth their fees.
Thanks! Comments are screened for people who'd rather stay private, and I'll pass the messages along.
The question they asked me was:
Is immigrating to Canada something we can do on our own or do we need an immigration lawyer? I have been looking at requirements and it all seems straightforward enough, but I don’t want to be unpleasantly surprised
Any thoughts on the process would be welcome, like if/when a lawyer is needed, or if/when agencies that promise to help with the moving process are actually worth their fees.
Thanks! Comments are screened for people who'd rather stay private, and I'll pass the messages along.
Streams of Silver AU
Jul. 25th, 2025 11:42 pmsenmutA Diversion from the Trollmoors (4554 words) by Sharpest_Asp
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Forgotten Realms, The Legend of Drizzt Series - R. A. Salvatore
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Drizzt Do'Urden vs Artemis Entreri
Characters: Bruenor Battlehammer, Drizzt Do'Urden, Wulfgar son of Beornegar, Regis [The Legend of Drizzt Series], Original Character(s)
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, point of break is streams of silver, Ensemble Cast, Minor Character Death, Canon Typical Violence
Summary:
When Kolarven had agreed that they were possibly the best suited Knight in Silver to handle a diplomatic mission around the edge of the Silver Marches, they had hand-picked their group. Talaris was the only Spellguard they wanted for such a long journey, and having an older, decorated Knight like Mikhail was a good choice. With both Knights between squires at the moment, they looked a bit less like an armed war party. Bard Ruggero traveled with only one servant and one bodyguard, and all three had proven proficient in their horsemanship.
That Talaris could, and would, call for further aid if warranted made the small party work for quicker travel on the circuit that began in Everlund and circled so far south and west as Triboar and Yartar before looping back around and up through Nesme. Kolarven's instincts had proven correct, as the armor on both the Knights and their horses had done much to dissuade brigands from attacking six mounted beings.
Privately, Kolarven was all but certain Ruggero's bodyguard, a woman of almost six and a half feet in height had likely given as much pause as the armor visible. Now that they were on the Surbrin Trace between Mornbryn's Shield and Nesme, Kolarven was grateful to have her intimidating stature and axe, for they had to pass through lands far too close to the Evermoors for comfort.
Leryth, Kolarven's gelding, and Jemson, Mikhail's fine stud, both swiveled their ears forward at about the same time Ruggero's mare gave a nervous prance. Kolarven and Talaris listened with all they were and picked up the sound of battle ahead, pricking at their conscience. They had a diplomat and non-combatant to protect, but they also had sworn vows to aid all in need within the Silver Marches.
"Do I hear a martial strain ahead, good saers?" Ruggero asked, cheerful enough. "Let us hasten, and be of aid, if possible."
"If you are certain," Kolarven said, while Mikhail was focusing enough with his human ears to be more aware of it.
"I will, as agreed upon, remain back with Derevo, and Kali will aid with you," Ruggero said.
"I have defensive spells ready to place around you," Talaris agreed to that, and then the party, as one, picked up speed on the trace. The clash of blades all but came to a stop before the party could see the battle sight, but words carried in harsh voices.
"Foul company you keep, dwarf!"
"Your friend would be dead if it were not for that foul company! And he repays the drow with a blade!"
Drow.
Kolarven's shoulders rolled a bit even as they eased off the speed, coming into full view of the splintered bog blokes, dead or dying Riders and mounts, as well as five still upon their horses, facing a barbarian standing protectively over a downed — yes, that white hair indicated a drow — fighter while a dwarf in a dented, one-horned helmet shook his own axe menacingly at the men of Nesme.
"Hold your violence, both sides of this," Kolarven said, actually leaning into both their station as a Knight-Sergeant and their elven presence. "I see by the evidence that the inhabitants of the Moors spilled onto the trace, but what is this that Nesme threatens travelers that joined battle, by yon tribesman's word?"
"It is none of your concern," the lead rider spit, worked up into a fettle by the mere presence of a drow apparently, and neglecting his downed men. Kolarven raked a glance over the man, trying to place the flat small features of this human against Riders he knew of.
"Saer, you, and they, are currently impeding a diplomatic party of Silverymoon," Talaris called, trying to defuse this, and to ignore a drow that was not yet dead. "Pray put aside your violence and see to your men. We will wait, and keep an eye on the strangers."
"This isn't Silverymoon, nor nearer to her borders than ours!" the enraged man shot back. "There's a murderous drow right there, and we'll not let him pass!"
"We wish only to go our own way," said drow called back in a quiet, but carrying tone.
"Aye, as all we heard of Nesme seems to be lies among cowards after all!" the dwarf snapped.
Kolarven spared a moment to hope for patience in someone present, before leveling their gaze at the dwarf. "Diplomacy," they stressed, "is needed in the moment."
Mikhail cleared his throat to cut the dwarf's temperamental rebuttal off. "Saers, the Riders are charged to keep the Evermoors' inhabitants across the river. I suggest listening to the Knight-Sergeant's advice, and not aggravate this when there are men down, possibly dying."
"Already dead," one of the riders called, sparing a glance at the nearest body.
"Not the one who attacked my friend, though he might wish it," the barbarian said. "These new men speak truth, Riders. Gather up your dead and wounded, and leave us in peace."
"I won't let a lying, sorcerous dog of a drow — "
"Silence!" Kolarven shouted, cutting across all further words and the readying for further fighting. "I will personally escort them past your lands, if that is the direction they mean to go. Unless, Saer Rider, you wish to offend a diplomat charged by Lady Silverhand herself, and provoke our city?"
"Her reach is not so far!"
"Linder!" one of the other hissed.
"The good Knight speaks true," Ruggero said, "for your city calls upon ours for magical aid to beat back the Evermoors quite regularly. Do you wish to increase your duty so much? Are you so heartless as to ignore the suffering of your men who yet breathe in such pain as their injuries must provoke?"
"It is a drow!"
Kolarven shifted their weight, and Leryth shifted with it, making a better show of the muscle that the horse had to carry a Knight so well. "I will never understand how you humans manage to live with such fear knotted in your bellies around enemies that were never yours, that have inflicted maybe a tiny fraction of the indignities my own have seen!"
For the moment, they threw all of their human heritage aside, because this was beyond ridiculous.
"Pick. Up. Your. Men." Kolarven gestured, and Mikhail pushed forward, followed by Talaris, creating an equine wall between the three strangers — four? where had that halfling come from, the one who was steadying the drow? — and the Riders. "Unless, Saer Rider, you are willing to start a trade war, here and now."
"This will not be the last of it!"
"Please do send word to my aunt, Lady Silverhand, with all that happened today." Kolarven's invitation was icy, stressing the word 'all', even as they made certain to make a point of getting the travelers' version… even if it meant speaking with a drow. They very, very rarely leaned into the kinship, fully honorary but chosen, between themself and the lady they served.
This idiot had needed it, from the chalky look the idiot got.
To the travelers' credit, they stayed behind the equine shield, though on high alert for treachery, if the hands on hilts of hammer, axe, and swords were anything to go by.
It took some time, but eventually the Riders were on their way, riding as swiftly as the now double-burdened mounts could manage.
"I apologize for this incident," the drow offered once the Riders were gone.
"Bah, shove it, me elf. My boy says ye saved the one's life and were attacked for it; they got what they deserved."
"But these goodly people should not have had to intervene," the drow said mildly. "Saers, as we are no longer able to seek refuge in Nesme for a night to rest, we do ask if we can walk alongside your party until we are past it."
"We lost our mounts in the storms," the halfling said quickly. "And we hate to slow your party down, but we also do not want a fight with them."
"Here, lad," Ruggero said with a smile to the other halfling. "You can ride with me, and if the dwarf will ride with my servant Derevo, I think your longer-legged friends can keep pace with the walk of the horses."
"We do not know your names, nor have we given ours," the barbarian said, showing, yet again to Kolarven's happy surprise, that he was a man of manners.
"Pardon," Kolarven told him. "The Bard Ruggero, his servant Derevo, his bodyguard Kali. Our wizard is Talaris, my fellow Knight is Mikhail, and I am Kolarven."
"I'm Regis, this is Drizzt, that is Wulfgar, and he's Bruenor," the halfling said quickly, making Kolarven wonder if he was forestalling longer, more complete introductions on purpose.
"Come. They've had enough time to get ahead," Kolarven said, prompting Bruenor and Regis to go to the mounts indicated. And, as Ruggero had predicted, neither the drow — that looked like customary ranger garb — nor the barbarian had trouble keeping up at all.
With several rests through the day, they still had not actually cleared Nesme, and Kolarven called a halt in the last protected spot they could think of to keep from crossing Nesme's outer traffic by night. Twice, the drow had cast darkness to the side of the trace that face the Evermoors, confounding some of the smaller creatures that haunted the edges, seeking unwary victims.
It was… startling, both in the actions themselves, and to see a non-aggressive stance being taken by a drow. Kolarven knew of goodly drow, but all the tales they knew spoke of keeping hidden, and marks of the sword or moon in their clothing. While this one wore two curving blades of equal length, he looked — once you got past hair and skin — like most any scout or ranger of the area. A couple of times, as the drow unconsciously took point on the trace they followed, Kolarven could have sworn the darker threads in the green cloak depicted a unicorn, but dismissed it as fanciful notions wrought by being a citizen of Silverymoon.
"Now that we have a bit of time," Ruggero began, as bellies were being filled, "we should have your side of the tale, travelers. Tomorrow we will cross the frontage of Nesme, home to the Riders we parted from hostility with you."
"Aye, as they may yet try tae pick a fight again," the dwarf, Bruenor, answered, and Kolarven focused on him first. "Me boy there with his long legs ran on ahead as we heard the fighting. Rumblebelly — Regis, that is — followed the three of us. I'd made the fight ahead o' me elf, because he's not one for rushing in."
The strangled noise from Wulfgar suggested otherwise, and Kolarven saw a smirk under the purple eyes of the drow.
"We only gave aid, as our natures demand of us," Wulfgar picked up. "But my teacher," and he nodded to Drizzt, "had given that aid, and been laid out from dodging the axe of the one he protected from being pulped by the wooden creatures. I did throw the horse down, and injure the man, I will acknowledge, but my loyalty to my friends comes ahead of much, and I cannot abide the cowardice of a strike against one who aided!"
"Not a one of them moved to help any of their fellows," Regis said. "They were all just yelling at Drizzt, and us, because no one will look past his skin!"
"I gave fair warning that was how it would be," Drizzt said quietly. "Seven years I wandered below the Spine. Seven years of finding nowhere to let me remain. Often violently reinforcing that point."
"How came you by DeBrouchee's Bow?" Ruggero asked, and all of Silverymoon's people saw the drow startle and sit up straighter against his tree.
"You know his mark?"
"An owl, as was his Companion. The tale of he and his friends against the red was still fresh when I started learning my trade so long ago."
Drizzt dropped his face to hide it, but Kolarven did not feel there was deceit in the motion. The body language spoke of an emotional struggle.
"Montolio DeBrouchee took me in, my second spring above, and he trained me until just past the midwinter that same year, exacting a promise that I would not remain in his glade once he had passed. That I travel, and seek a place to belong." Drizzt looked at each of his three friends. "I have learned that such a home is less a place, and more connections with others.
"He died, and by his own wishes, I took his bow, his quiver, and his cloak. All of them have seen me through adventures, and preserved my life nearly as much as my blades have."
"Saer Kolarven, if the Riders do attempt to initiate hostilities again," Ruggero called, "remind them that starting fights with the favored of Mielikki in this region is even more of an offense than merely upsetting trade with our city."
Kolarven let their eyes wonder in amazement at that. "I do not know the ranger you speak of, though I am certain my cousin Tarthilmor can fill me in, as you mentioned a dragon." All of them had a slight laugh for that before they continued. "But I welcome that advice. Is She your patron, or merely that of your teacher?"
They directed the question back to Drizzt, certain that something was amiss in all of this compared to tales of the goodly drow, but uncertain why.
"She had seen fit to guide me, given I am inclined to tolerate very little in the way of spoiling the wilds," Drizzt agreed. "In the north, I was more apt to claim Gwaeron Windstrom due to their peculiar associations with masculine prominence, but Mielikki is the true patron."
"Well, all of that will be helpful, if there are idiots tomorrow," Kolarven said in a cheerful tone.
"Now that we have a bit more of the ranger there, who would care to put forth their own character references now?" Ruggero invited with a smile. "It's not every day that I have the luck of seeing a walking tavern tale."
Wulfgar looked puzzled, but Regis started giggling. "A dwarf, a barbarian, and a halfling walk into a tavern with a drow — oh that is funny when you point at it!"
Seeing his small friend be so amused put the barbarian more at ease, and then he did smile. "I am the latest to this assortment, so I shall answer first. I am Wulfgar son of Beornegar, once of the Tribe of Elk, now of the combined tribes of those that hunt along the Reghed Glacier.
"Several years past, when I was barely more than a boy — "
"Ye were one still," Bruenor interjected.
" — the tribes massed and attacked Ten Towns," Wulfgar continued, having paused just long enough to let Bruenor be heard. "I survived, because Bruenor took compassion on me, and indentured me after the fighting, rather than allow me to be killed by my people or the Towns' folk. When my service was almost done, he introduced me to Drizzt as my new teacher."
"Somewhat reluctantly on both sides of that introduction," Drizzt admitted. "But yes, and you have made much of what I shared with you."
"Ye both needed it," Bruenor growled, blustery in tone, but affection for the two men still evident to those who knew dwarves.
"And you, my very distant cousin?" Ruggero asked of Regis, even as the darker halfling squirmed a little.
"We're not all really related," Regis told Wulfgar before he could worry himself over that, "but it is a matter of courtesy, when halflings meet away from halfling places.
"Not much to say of me; I was a Spokesman for a time, but now I am just trying to help my friends."
Something in how the other three appraised Regis left Kolarven certain that there was far more at stake there.
"Which leaves me," Bruenor said after a long moment. "Me boy agreed tae help me quest openly, and while I did trick me elf into giving his word for it at long last, needed doing. Staying up there wasn't going tae be a good thing as tempers run hot in the re-building." He studied the pair of knights, the wizard, then the bard and his two people. "Me name is Bruenor Battlehammer, chieftain tae what remains of Clan Battlehammer and I be seeking me long-lost Hall."
There was a long silence with just the faint crackle of the carefully banked fire.
"The name is known, but the where is not," Ruggero told the dwarf. "Seek the clan Rockcrusher, once you reach Silverymoon, and employ them to help scour the histories within the Vault of the Sages, perhaps… they are a clan given to academic matters.
"But, in all honesty, you would be better suited to breaking from the road to our city after High Hold, and turning toward the forest, to seek the Herald's Holdfast. If the current Herald can be moved by your tale, he could grant access to the Hall of the Dwarves, where all knowledge that is known of your people would be found."
"Elf?" Bruenor called, getting a contemplative look.
"If this place is before the city, better to do as advised, and only seek Silverymoon if the Holdfast cannot provide," Drizzt finally answered. "Or else, we might find ourselves needlessly backtracking, and we have already lost many days on the road, if we are to be able to return north with the news before the winter storms begin."
"Winter is some time away," Mikhail pointed out.
"Yes, for this region. It will only barely be mid-autumn for you before those passes are closed to all travelers. Once we find our clue where to look, we will have to explore. This is why I am counseling as I do," Drizzt said.
"Ahh, I do forget the further north you go, the quicker winter brings her grip to bear," Mikhail told him.
"Now that we know more, so that we can stand surety tomorrow — if needed — I suggest we all sleep, and begin on the road at first light," Kolarven said.
"Agreed," came from Bruenor, while Ruggero nodded to the necessity.
Passing Nesme happened without incident.
Kolarven had reason to wish they had been detained there instead of this fight that had found them.
A wizard, two fighters, and a flesh-construct with a woman the dwarf's party knew was bad enough. But one fighter — the Calimshite, if Kolarven was placing coloring and clothing correctly — had taken down Mikhail by killing his horse under him almost before any of them had known there was a threat so close.
"Protect your bard!" Bruenor yelled, even as he and Wulfgar teamed with attacks on the rest of the party. Talaris had a wall of force up to try and hold the construct back long enough to use his sending stone. Kali was guarding Ruggero and Derevo, her massive axe more than enough threat that the Luskan fighter could not close in.
And the ranger! Kolarven could only hope to be that fine-skilled some day! The drow, almost before Mikhail's horse hit the ground, had leaped over to defend the knight. Blades flashed with speed the likes of which Kolarven had never seen in their life!
Despite only just being freed of the odd party, the woman that had cried their only warning was taking up the ranger's discarded bow and quiver, aiming for the fighter and wizard pair. The arrow meant for the wizard went astray — magical protection no doubt — but the fighter fell to one in his eye.
That was about the moment that Talaris got his sending out, and Kolarven tightened up the defense with him and Kali so that Ruggero would be unharmed. Regis, who had gone shockingly pale on seeing the attackers, had fallen back to them, but had his mace in hand, ready in case anything made it through.
Time after time, Wulfgar's mighty hammer flew high and accurate into the construct, as the wall of force was set just off from where Wulfgar had been walking. The construct was not coming to where the wall ended, and just kept shuddering and taking damage, as it was intent on getting to the ranger, it seemed.
"Me ranger! He killed clan!" the bow-using woman shouted across the battlefield. Kolarven spared a glance that way, having realized the attackers only wanted the dwarf's party. What they saw raised the ancestral fear of drow all over again, as the fight went from a near stalemate to something far more favoring the ranger.
Kolarven didn't get to see more of it, as the air-displacing pop of a mass-teleport happened, and two more Spellguards brought their magic to bear on the construct, allowing Talaris to breathe and ready a better spell for ensnaring the wizard controlling the construct. He didn't get the chance, as the dwarf got to her first, following behind a volley of more deflected arrows.
The Knights in Silver that had also come to aid were circling to get to Mikhail, as the ranger had pushed the fight away from the downed man and horse. Kolarven looked that way just in time to see the Calimshite run into the invisible wall of force. Both drow and human were bleeding, but more on the human's side, and that sudden obstacle was just enough break in concentration for the ranger to land a killing thrust.
Like a wounded boar, the Calimshite tried to fight his way up the blade to hit the ranger with his knife, but the drow was too canny, twisting his body, and the blade, just right to finish the kill.
Two disintegratespells landed almost simultaneously on the construct, removing first one section and then enough of the rest to end that fight.
The ranger hadn't moved, and the woman hastened to his side, though she did not yet touch him. Kolarven looked to see who had come to their aid, even as they hurried to call out for everyone to look outwards, just in case of reinforcements, making their way to Mikhail.
"I'm not finishing this trip," the human knight said ruefully, while the pair helping him tried to determine how bad the leg was.
"What happened?" Jastinathiel asked her former squire as Kolarven reached them.
"We'd taken company with a party of travelers," Kolarven began. "The ones that are dead attacked without warning as we came past that last copse of trees. The Luskans were holding the young woman by the ranger captive; she cried warning, but nothing could have been fast enough against the Calimshite.
"The dwarf is the leader of the travelers we aided, and he told us to defend Ruggero and ourselves, which is what we mostly fell back to."
"Couldn't let that thing trample in," Talaris said as he made it to them, shaking his head. "It happened so damned fast."
"Something like that on the roads we use needed dealt with," Jasti reassured them both. "Alright, we'll take Mikhail on; any other injured?"
Kolarven looked to the ranger first, seeing that Drizzt had knelt, the young woman with a hand on his shoulder now. They swept their gaze over dwarf and barbarian, then back to the pair of halflings with servant and bodyguard both watching so keenly.
"Something tells me the ranger will refuse aid," Kolarven said, even as they realized the knights and Spellguards were only just realizing a drow was present. "So, no, unless someone has a potion I can try and convince him to use?"
"Aiding a drow?" Jasti asked, eyes wide.
"Of Mielikki," Kolarven pressed.
"Now I've heard everything."
"Oh, wait until we get to the city," Mikhail said with thin lips from the pain, but amused nonetheless.
"If you're here, you only have Rivermoot and High Hold left?" Jasti asked.
"Yes. Take Mikhail, give me a potion. Talaris and I will see this through, since neither you or Crispen are mounted."
"How about you put your people to camp for the day," Jasti suggested, "and one of us will return with a horse to finish the route?"
"We could do that," Kolarven agreed, now that she had settled from the instant suspicion of the drow.
"Then we will."
Kolarven took the time, as the group came to the best point to part ways, to go stand in front of the party of five.
"If the Herald cannot aid, come to us in Silverymoon," they told Bruenor seriously. "I swear by my sword that the lady of the city will do all she can to see Clan Battlehammer restored to their Hall, wherever it may be." Kolarven then looked up at Wulfgar and grinned. "You, and Regis there, I will take drinking! You deserve to see the best of our taverns!"
"Oh, that sounds delightful!" Regis said with a giggle, having recovered from his guilt under Catti-brie's serious counseling.
"Until we meet again," Catti-brie said for them all, but Kolarven shook their head, and held his hand, palm open, out to their ranger.
Startled, Drizzt reached, and was soon clasping wrists with Kolarven as the half-elf made a solid show of support.
"Whenever you draw your blades, saer, I have faith that Mielikki does guide them, and hope to see you in the Glade someday soon," Kolarven told him.
"Saer, you and your friends have convinced me that one day, I shall be there," Drizzt promised, before letting go.
The party from Silverymoon waited for the group on foot to clear the road fully, not wishing to stir the dust as they moved on. Once they were a good distance from the road, Kolarven led the way forward, intent on finishing the diplomatic mission, and their head full of the lessons learned in the last days' adventure.
Kolarven was glad of the fine brandy that Alustriel had set out for them. It really helped them endure the scowl from their uncle, even as the lady herself was looking more than slightly impressed — and intrigued.
"Old Knight has not reached out to me," she finally said, "so perhaps he was able to aid them fully. We will, of course, instruct any patrols in that direction to keep an eye for a need to aid them?"
Those words were leveled at Korvallen, who sighed and gave a curt nod.
"Do you mind passing on to my cousin in the dreadful deserts the name of the assassin?" Kolarven asked their aunt by family vows.
"And to Laeral," Alustriel promised. "As Waterdeep has known troubles from Calimshan, and he may have been wanted there."
"My thanks," Kolarven said with a smile. "Mikhail has apparently been talking the city's ears off about the strangers, so I expect I have a few drinks to go collect," they said in a jaunty cheer, finishing off the brandy and rising.
"Glad you came to no harm, nibling," Korvallen told him, but looked set to stay put. Korvallen nodded, heading out and only caught a brief snippet of Korvallen's temper before the door shut.
"Not all drow are that way," Kolarven muttered as they headed down from the Lady's Tower, to go visit all of their friends they could find.
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Forgotten Realms, The Legend of Drizzt Series - R. A. Salvatore
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Drizzt Do'Urden vs Artemis Entreri
Characters: Bruenor Battlehammer, Drizzt Do'Urden, Wulfgar son of Beornegar, Regis [The Legend of Drizzt Series], Original Character(s)
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, point of break is streams of silver, Ensemble Cast, Minor Character Death, Canon Typical Violence
Summary:
Kolarven, chosen by Alustriel to lead a diplomatic visitation, comes upon a battle on the edge of the Evermoors.
A Diversion from the Trollmoors
When Kolarven had agreed that they were possibly the best suited Knight in Silver to handle a diplomatic mission around the edge of the Silver Marches, they had hand-picked their group. Talaris was the only Spellguard they wanted for such a long journey, and having an older, decorated Knight like Mikhail was a good choice. With both Knights between squires at the moment, they looked a bit less like an armed war party. Bard Ruggero traveled with only one servant and one bodyguard, and all three had proven proficient in their horsemanship.
That Talaris could, and would, call for further aid if warranted made the small party work for quicker travel on the circuit that began in Everlund and circled so far south and west as Triboar and Yartar before looping back around and up through Nesme. Kolarven's instincts had proven correct, as the armor on both the Knights and their horses had done much to dissuade brigands from attacking six mounted beings.
Privately, Kolarven was all but certain Ruggero's bodyguard, a woman of almost six and a half feet in height had likely given as much pause as the armor visible. Now that they were on the Surbrin Trace between Mornbryn's Shield and Nesme, Kolarven was grateful to have her intimidating stature and axe, for they had to pass through lands far too close to the Evermoors for comfort.
Leryth, Kolarven's gelding, and Jemson, Mikhail's fine stud, both swiveled their ears forward at about the same time Ruggero's mare gave a nervous prance. Kolarven and Talaris listened with all they were and picked up the sound of battle ahead, pricking at their conscience. They had a diplomat and non-combatant to protect, but they also had sworn vows to aid all in need within the Silver Marches.
"Do I hear a martial strain ahead, good saers?" Ruggero asked, cheerful enough. "Let us hasten, and be of aid, if possible."
"If you are certain," Kolarven said, while Mikhail was focusing enough with his human ears to be more aware of it.
"I will, as agreed upon, remain back with Derevo, and Kali will aid with you," Ruggero said.
"I have defensive spells ready to place around you," Talaris agreed to that, and then the party, as one, picked up speed on the trace. The clash of blades all but came to a stop before the party could see the battle sight, but words carried in harsh voices.
"Foul company you keep, dwarf!"
"Your friend would be dead if it were not for that foul company! And he repays the drow with a blade!"
Drow.
Kolarven's shoulders rolled a bit even as they eased off the speed, coming into full view of the splintered bog blokes, dead or dying Riders and mounts, as well as five still upon their horses, facing a barbarian standing protectively over a downed — yes, that white hair indicated a drow — fighter while a dwarf in a dented, one-horned helmet shook his own axe menacingly at the men of Nesme.
"Hold your violence, both sides of this," Kolarven said, actually leaning into both their station as a Knight-Sergeant and their elven presence. "I see by the evidence that the inhabitants of the Moors spilled onto the trace, but what is this that Nesme threatens travelers that joined battle, by yon tribesman's word?"
"It is none of your concern," the lead rider spit, worked up into a fettle by the mere presence of a drow apparently, and neglecting his downed men. Kolarven raked a glance over the man, trying to place the flat small features of this human against Riders he knew of.
"Saer, you, and they, are currently impeding a diplomatic party of Silverymoon," Talaris called, trying to defuse this, and to ignore a drow that was not yet dead. "Pray put aside your violence and see to your men. We will wait, and keep an eye on the strangers."
"This isn't Silverymoon, nor nearer to her borders than ours!" the enraged man shot back. "There's a murderous drow right there, and we'll not let him pass!"
"We wish only to go our own way," said drow called back in a quiet, but carrying tone.
"Aye, as all we heard of Nesme seems to be lies among cowards after all!" the dwarf snapped.
Kolarven spared a moment to hope for patience in someone present, before leveling their gaze at the dwarf. "Diplomacy," they stressed, "is needed in the moment."
Mikhail cleared his throat to cut the dwarf's temperamental rebuttal off. "Saers, the Riders are charged to keep the Evermoors' inhabitants across the river. I suggest listening to the Knight-Sergeant's advice, and not aggravate this when there are men down, possibly dying."
"Already dead," one of the riders called, sparing a glance at the nearest body.
"Not the one who attacked my friend, though he might wish it," the barbarian said. "These new men speak truth, Riders. Gather up your dead and wounded, and leave us in peace."
"I won't let a lying, sorcerous dog of a drow — "
"Silence!" Kolarven shouted, cutting across all further words and the readying for further fighting. "I will personally escort them past your lands, if that is the direction they mean to go. Unless, Saer Rider, you wish to offend a diplomat charged by Lady Silverhand herself, and provoke our city?"
"Her reach is not so far!"
"Linder!" one of the other hissed.
"The good Knight speaks true," Ruggero said, "for your city calls upon ours for magical aid to beat back the Evermoors quite regularly. Do you wish to increase your duty so much? Are you so heartless as to ignore the suffering of your men who yet breathe in such pain as their injuries must provoke?"
"It is a drow!"
Kolarven shifted their weight, and Leryth shifted with it, making a better show of the muscle that the horse had to carry a Knight so well. "I will never understand how you humans manage to live with such fear knotted in your bellies around enemies that were never yours, that have inflicted maybe a tiny fraction of the indignities my own have seen!"
For the moment, they threw all of their human heritage aside, because this was beyond ridiculous.
"Pick. Up. Your. Men." Kolarven gestured, and Mikhail pushed forward, followed by Talaris, creating an equine wall between the three strangers — four? where had that halfling come from, the one who was steadying the drow? — and the Riders. "Unless, Saer Rider, you are willing to start a trade war, here and now."
"This will not be the last of it!"
"Please do send word to my aunt, Lady Silverhand, with all that happened today." Kolarven's invitation was icy, stressing the word 'all', even as they made certain to make a point of getting the travelers' version… even if it meant speaking with a drow. They very, very rarely leaned into the kinship, fully honorary but chosen, between themself and the lady they served.
This idiot had needed it, from the chalky look the idiot got.
To the travelers' credit, they stayed behind the equine shield, though on high alert for treachery, if the hands on hilts of hammer, axe, and swords were anything to go by.
It took some time, but eventually the Riders were on their way, riding as swiftly as the now double-burdened mounts could manage.
"I apologize for this incident," the drow offered once the Riders were gone.
"Bah, shove it, me elf. My boy says ye saved the one's life and were attacked for it; they got what they deserved."
"But these goodly people should not have had to intervene," the drow said mildly. "Saers, as we are no longer able to seek refuge in Nesme for a night to rest, we do ask if we can walk alongside your party until we are past it."
"We lost our mounts in the storms," the halfling said quickly. "And we hate to slow your party down, but we also do not want a fight with them."
"Here, lad," Ruggero said with a smile to the other halfling. "You can ride with me, and if the dwarf will ride with my servant Derevo, I think your longer-legged friends can keep pace with the walk of the horses."
"We do not know your names, nor have we given ours," the barbarian said, showing, yet again to Kolarven's happy surprise, that he was a man of manners.
"Pardon," Kolarven told him. "The Bard Ruggero, his servant Derevo, his bodyguard Kali. Our wizard is Talaris, my fellow Knight is Mikhail, and I am Kolarven."
"I'm Regis, this is Drizzt, that is Wulfgar, and he's Bruenor," the halfling said quickly, making Kolarven wonder if he was forestalling longer, more complete introductions on purpose.
"Come. They've had enough time to get ahead," Kolarven said, prompting Bruenor and Regis to go to the mounts indicated. And, as Ruggero had predicted, neither the drow — that looked like customary ranger garb — nor the barbarian had trouble keeping up at all.
With several rests through the day, they still had not actually cleared Nesme, and Kolarven called a halt in the last protected spot they could think of to keep from crossing Nesme's outer traffic by night. Twice, the drow had cast darkness to the side of the trace that face the Evermoors, confounding some of the smaller creatures that haunted the edges, seeking unwary victims.
It was… startling, both in the actions themselves, and to see a non-aggressive stance being taken by a drow. Kolarven knew of goodly drow, but all the tales they knew spoke of keeping hidden, and marks of the sword or moon in their clothing. While this one wore two curving blades of equal length, he looked — once you got past hair and skin — like most any scout or ranger of the area. A couple of times, as the drow unconsciously took point on the trace they followed, Kolarven could have sworn the darker threads in the green cloak depicted a unicorn, but dismissed it as fanciful notions wrought by being a citizen of Silverymoon.
"Now that we have a bit of time," Ruggero began, as bellies were being filled, "we should have your side of the tale, travelers. Tomorrow we will cross the frontage of Nesme, home to the Riders we parted from hostility with you."
"Aye, as they may yet try tae pick a fight again," the dwarf, Bruenor, answered, and Kolarven focused on him first. "Me boy there with his long legs ran on ahead as we heard the fighting. Rumblebelly — Regis, that is — followed the three of us. I'd made the fight ahead o' me elf, because he's not one for rushing in."
The strangled noise from Wulfgar suggested otherwise, and Kolarven saw a smirk under the purple eyes of the drow.
"We only gave aid, as our natures demand of us," Wulfgar picked up. "But my teacher," and he nodded to Drizzt, "had given that aid, and been laid out from dodging the axe of the one he protected from being pulped by the wooden creatures. I did throw the horse down, and injure the man, I will acknowledge, but my loyalty to my friends comes ahead of much, and I cannot abide the cowardice of a strike against one who aided!"
"Not a one of them moved to help any of their fellows," Regis said. "They were all just yelling at Drizzt, and us, because no one will look past his skin!"
"I gave fair warning that was how it would be," Drizzt said quietly. "Seven years I wandered below the Spine. Seven years of finding nowhere to let me remain. Often violently reinforcing that point."
"How came you by DeBrouchee's Bow?" Ruggero asked, and all of Silverymoon's people saw the drow startle and sit up straighter against his tree.
"You know his mark?"
"An owl, as was his Companion. The tale of he and his friends against the red was still fresh when I started learning my trade so long ago."
Drizzt dropped his face to hide it, but Kolarven did not feel there was deceit in the motion. The body language spoke of an emotional struggle.
"Montolio DeBrouchee took me in, my second spring above, and he trained me until just past the midwinter that same year, exacting a promise that I would not remain in his glade once he had passed. That I travel, and seek a place to belong." Drizzt looked at each of his three friends. "I have learned that such a home is less a place, and more connections with others.
"He died, and by his own wishes, I took his bow, his quiver, and his cloak. All of them have seen me through adventures, and preserved my life nearly as much as my blades have."
"Saer Kolarven, if the Riders do attempt to initiate hostilities again," Ruggero called, "remind them that starting fights with the favored of Mielikki in this region is even more of an offense than merely upsetting trade with our city."
Kolarven let their eyes wonder in amazement at that. "I do not know the ranger you speak of, though I am certain my cousin Tarthilmor can fill me in, as you mentioned a dragon." All of them had a slight laugh for that before they continued. "But I welcome that advice. Is She your patron, or merely that of your teacher?"
They directed the question back to Drizzt, certain that something was amiss in all of this compared to tales of the goodly drow, but uncertain why.
"She had seen fit to guide me, given I am inclined to tolerate very little in the way of spoiling the wilds," Drizzt agreed. "In the north, I was more apt to claim Gwaeron Windstrom due to their peculiar associations with masculine prominence, but Mielikki is the true patron."
"Well, all of that will be helpful, if there are idiots tomorrow," Kolarven said in a cheerful tone.
"Now that we have a bit more of the ranger there, who would care to put forth their own character references now?" Ruggero invited with a smile. "It's not every day that I have the luck of seeing a walking tavern tale."
Wulfgar looked puzzled, but Regis started giggling. "A dwarf, a barbarian, and a halfling walk into a tavern with a drow — oh that is funny when you point at it!"
Seeing his small friend be so amused put the barbarian more at ease, and then he did smile. "I am the latest to this assortment, so I shall answer first. I am Wulfgar son of Beornegar, once of the Tribe of Elk, now of the combined tribes of those that hunt along the Reghed Glacier.
"Several years past, when I was barely more than a boy — "
"Ye were one still," Bruenor interjected.
" — the tribes massed and attacked Ten Towns," Wulfgar continued, having paused just long enough to let Bruenor be heard. "I survived, because Bruenor took compassion on me, and indentured me after the fighting, rather than allow me to be killed by my people or the Towns' folk. When my service was almost done, he introduced me to Drizzt as my new teacher."
"Somewhat reluctantly on both sides of that introduction," Drizzt admitted. "But yes, and you have made much of what I shared with you."
"Ye both needed it," Bruenor growled, blustery in tone, but affection for the two men still evident to those who knew dwarves.
"And you, my very distant cousin?" Ruggero asked of Regis, even as the darker halfling squirmed a little.
"We're not all really related," Regis told Wulfgar before he could worry himself over that, "but it is a matter of courtesy, when halflings meet away from halfling places.
"Not much to say of me; I was a Spokesman for a time, but now I am just trying to help my friends."
Something in how the other three appraised Regis left Kolarven certain that there was far more at stake there.
"Which leaves me," Bruenor said after a long moment. "Me boy agreed tae help me quest openly, and while I did trick me elf into giving his word for it at long last, needed doing. Staying up there wasn't going tae be a good thing as tempers run hot in the re-building." He studied the pair of knights, the wizard, then the bard and his two people. "Me name is Bruenor Battlehammer, chieftain tae what remains of Clan Battlehammer and I be seeking me long-lost Hall."
There was a long silence with just the faint crackle of the carefully banked fire.
"The name is known, but the where is not," Ruggero told the dwarf. "Seek the clan Rockcrusher, once you reach Silverymoon, and employ them to help scour the histories within the Vault of the Sages, perhaps… they are a clan given to academic matters.
"But, in all honesty, you would be better suited to breaking from the road to our city after High Hold, and turning toward the forest, to seek the Herald's Holdfast. If the current Herald can be moved by your tale, he could grant access to the Hall of the Dwarves, where all knowledge that is known of your people would be found."
"Elf?" Bruenor called, getting a contemplative look.
"If this place is before the city, better to do as advised, and only seek Silverymoon if the Holdfast cannot provide," Drizzt finally answered. "Or else, we might find ourselves needlessly backtracking, and we have already lost many days on the road, if we are to be able to return north with the news before the winter storms begin."
"Winter is some time away," Mikhail pointed out.
"Yes, for this region. It will only barely be mid-autumn for you before those passes are closed to all travelers. Once we find our clue where to look, we will have to explore. This is why I am counseling as I do," Drizzt said.
"Ahh, I do forget the further north you go, the quicker winter brings her grip to bear," Mikhail told him.
"Now that we know more, so that we can stand surety tomorrow — if needed — I suggest we all sleep, and begin on the road at first light," Kolarven said.
"Agreed," came from Bruenor, while Ruggero nodded to the necessity.
Passing Nesme happened without incident.
Kolarven had reason to wish they had been detained there instead of this fight that had found them.
A wizard, two fighters, and a flesh-construct with a woman the dwarf's party knew was bad enough. But one fighter — the Calimshite, if Kolarven was placing coloring and clothing correctly — had taken down Mikhail by killing his horse under him almost before any of them had known there was a threat so close.
"Protect your bard!" Bruenor yelled, even as he and Wulfgar teamed with attacks on the rest of the party. Talaris had a wall of force up to try and hold the construct back long enough to use his sending stone. Kali was guarding Ruggero and Derevo, her massive axe more than enough threat that the Luskan fighter could not close in.
And the ranger! Kolarven could only hope to be that fine-skilled some day! The drow, almost before Mikhail's horse hit the ground, had leaped over to defend the knight. Blades flashed with speed the likes of which Kolarven had never seen in their life!
Despite only just being freed of the odd party, the woman that had cried their only warning was taking up the ranger's discarded bow and quiver, aiming for the fighter and wizard pair. The arrow meant for the wizard went astray — magical protection no doubt — but the fighter fell to one in his eye.
That was about the moment that Talaris got his sending out, and Kolarven tightened up the defense with him and Kali so that Ruggero would be unharmed. Regis, who had gone shockingly pale on seeing the attackers, had fallen back to them, but had his mace in hand, ready in case anything made it through.
Time after time, Wulfgar's mighty hammer flew high and accurate into the construct, as the wall of force was set just off from where Wulfgar had been walking. The construct was not coming to where the wall ended, and just kept shuddering and taking damage, as it was intent on getting to the ranger, it seemed.
"Me ranger! He killed clan!" the bow-using woman shouted across the battlefield. Kolarven spared a glance that way, having realized the attackers only wanted the dwarf's party. What they saw raised the ancestral fear of drow all over again, as the fight went from a near stalemate to something far more favoring the ranger.
Kolarven didn't get to see more of it, as the air-displacing pop of a mass-teleport happened, and two more Spellguards brought their magic to bear on the construct, allowing Talaris to breathe and ready a better spell for ensnaring the wizard controlling the construct. He didn't get the chance, as the dwarf got to her first, following behind a volley of more deflected arrows.
The Knights in Silver that had also come to aid were circling to get to Mikhail, as the ranger had pushed the fight away from the downed man and horse. Kolarven looked that way just in time to see the Calimshite run into the invisible wall of force. Both drow and human were bleeding, but more on the human's side, and that sudden obstacle was just enough break in concentration for the ranger to land a killing thrust.
Like a wounded boar, the Calimshite tried to fight his way up the blade to hit the ranger with his knife, but the drow was too canny, twisting his body, and the blade, just right to finish the kill.
Two disintegratespells landed almost simultaneously on the construct, removing first one section and then enough of the rest to end that fight.
The ranger hadn't moved, and the woman hastened to his side, though she did not yet touch him. Kolarven looked to see who had come to their aid, even as they hurried to call out for everyone to look outwards, just in case of reinforcements, making their way to Mikhail.
"I'm not finishing this trip," the human knight said ruefully, while the pair helping him tried to determine how bad the leg was.
"What happened?" Jastinathiel asked her former squire as Kolarven reached them.
"We'd taken company with a party of travelers," Kolarven began. "The ones that are dead attacked without warning as we came past that last copse of trees. The Luskans were holding the young woman by the ranger captive; she cried warning, but nothing could have been fast enough against the Calimshite.
"The dwarf is the leader of the travelers we aided, and he told us to defend Ruggero and ourselves, which is what we mostly fell back to."
"Couldn't let that thing trample in," Talaris said as he made it to them, shaking his head. "It happened so damned fast."
"Something like that on the roads we use needed dealt with," Jasti reassured them both. "Alright, we'll take Mikhail on; any other injured?"
Kolarven looked to the ranger first, seeing that Drizzt had knelt, the young woman with a hand on his shoulder now. They swept their gaze over dwarf and barbarian, then back to the pair of halflings with servant and bodyguard both watching so keenly.
"Something tells me the ranger will refuse aid," Kolarven said, even as they realized the knights and Spellguards were only just realizing a drow was present. "So, no, unless someone has a potion I can try and convince him to use?"
"Aiding a drow?" Jasti asked, eyes wide.
"Of Mielikki," Kolarven pressed.
"Now I've heard everything."
"Oh, wait until we get to the city," Mikhail said with thin lips from the pain, but amused nonetheless.
"If you're here, you only have Rivermoot and High Hold left?" Jasti asked.
"Yes. Take Mikhail, give me a potion. Talaris and I will see this through, since neither you or Crispen are mounted."
"How about you put your people to camp for the day," Jasti suggested, "and one of us will return with a horse to finish the route?"
"We could do that," Kolarven agreed, now that she had settled from the instant suspicion of the drow.
"Then we will."
Kolarven took the time, as the group came to the best point to part ways, to go stand in front of the party of five.
"If the Herald cannot aid, come to us in Silverymoon," they told Bruenor seriously. "I swear by my sword that the lady of the city will do all she can to see Clan Battlehammer restored to their Hall, wherever it may be." Kolarven then looked up at Wulfgar and grinned. "You, and Regis there, I will take drinking! You deserve to see the best of our taverns!"
"Oh, that sounds delightful!" Regis said with a giggle, having recovered from his guilt under Catti-brie's serious counseling.
"Until we meet again," Catti-brie said for them all, but Kolarven shook their head, and held his hand, palm open, out to their ranger.
Startled, Drizzt reached, and was soon clasping wrists with Kolarven as the half-elf made a solid show of support.
"Whenever you draw your blades, saer, I have faith that Mielikki does guide them, and hope to see you in the Glade someday soon," Kolarven told him.
"Saer, you and your friends have convinced me that one day, I shall be there," Drizzt promised, before letting go.
The party from Silverymoon waited for the group on foot to clear the road fully, not wishing to stir the dust as they moved on. Once they were a good distance from the road, Kolarven led the way forward, intent on finishing the diplomatic mission, and their head full of the lessons learned in the last days' adventure.
Kolarven was glad of the fine brandy that Alustriel had set out for them. It really helped them endure the scowl from their uncle, even as the lady herself was looking more than slightly impressed — and intrigued.
"Old Knight has not reached out to me," she finally said, "so perhaps he was able to aid them fully. We will, of course, instruct any patrols in that direction to keep an eye for a need to aid them?"
Those words were leveled at Korvallen, who sighed and gave a curt nod.
"Do you mind passing on to my cousin in the dreadful deserts the name of the assassin?" Kolarven asked their aunt by family vows.
"And to Laeral," Alustriel promised. "As Waterdeep has known troubles from Calimshan, and he may have been wanted there."
"My thanks," Kolarven said with a smile. "Mikhail has apparently been talking the city's ears off about the strangers, so I expect I have a few drinks to go collect," they said in a jaunty cheer, finishing off the brandy and rising.
"Glad you came to no harm, nibling," Korvallen told him, but looked set to stay put. Korvallen nodded, heading out and only caught a brief snippet of Korvallen's temper before the door shut.
"Not all drow are that way," Kolarven muttered as they headed down from the Lady's Tower, to go visit all of their friends they could find.
Daily Happiness
Jul. 25th, 2025 09:33 pmtorachan1. Second day of soft open was a wild ride. People lined up before the store opened. We made double the sales of yesterday. All without any advertising about the soft open. The only advertising was about the grand open tomorrow.
2. Some of you may remember a couple years ago I was working on a project to transition to a new inventory system at work and really dialing back my area manager duties to focus on that. Then they put it on hold because they were redoing the whole thing from scratch. Now they are back at the point where the IT side needs feedback from store operations, and they need more time devoted to it than anyone can do while juggling other job duties, so I was told today that I will be fully working on that for the next year or so and only lightly helping out with area manager stuff (currently there is no one who can actually take my place). I will get a bigger raise than the small annual raise I just got, and I can work from home if there's nothing I need to go in to the office for. I will miss all that audiobook time from driving but will not miss all the actual driving.
3. Look at that perfect Molly curl!
2. Some of you may remember a couple years ago I was working on a project to transition to a new inventory system at work and really dialing back my area manager duties to focus on that. Then they put it on hold because they were redoing the whole thing from scratch. Now they are back at the point where the IT side needs feedback from store operations, and they need more time devoted to it than anyone can do while juggling other job duties, so I was told today that I will be fully working on that for the next year or so and only lightly helping out with area manager stuff (currently there is no one who can actually take my place). I will get a bigger raise than the small annual raise I just got, and I can work from home if there's nothing I need to go in to the office for. I will miss all that audiobook time from driving but will not miss all the actual driving.
3. Look at that perfect Molly curl!
I have seen my first ice hockey game
Jul. 25th, 2025 08:27 pmolivermoss
There was is a novice to intermediate ice hockey tournament this weekend that I found out about because a brewery I follow is one of the sponsors. Portland United Hockey League is gender inclusive and this is a yearly event they do. One of the teams competing is Team Trans, so I picked them as my team and went to go watch. I was one of maybe 9 people watching and I think everyone else was a friend of a player. Little awkward, but you never know the vibe of an event until you go. Maybe over the weekend there will be more people at the games. I may also go out on Sunday.
It was cute. They were against Stay Golden, whose team logo is based on The Golden Girls. They tied. I guess maybe needing to clear the ice for the next match is why they didn't just go longer. The Team Trans goalie blocked a shot very late in that game that kept them tied and then they had a moment after that, like took of their helmet and had to go skate in a loop.
I think the match up after the one I went to was a much bigger deal. People cheered when one of the teams arrived and many more people were coming in as I headed out. I don't know the local teams, and yet I stand by my team-picking-rubrics.
I'd hope to snag a few cool pictures, but I not only was that plexiglass barrier way more marked up than I expected, but the lighting on the ice wasn't what I assumed. It was a stupid assumption to think it would be brighter, I know snow and ice, but my settings were like for daylight conditions. My gear might work with a different lens, but I hadn't shot sports before and ran into unexpected difficulty factors. So, I grabbed a few cell phone pics, but my cell phone refused to actually focus on the players, kept trying to focus on the marked up glass or the netting. I might take another swing at a better shot on Sunday, but that glass is a lot to deal with.
(no subject)
Jul. 26th, 2025 12:20 amtellshannon815Challenge #7
The Ferris Wheel
Journaling: Life in fandom goes through ups and downs. Reminisce about the "wild ride" of your time in fandom or in other online communities.
Creative: Create an image or a photo with the theme "let's go for a ride".
If you've known me a while, you probably know a lot of this, so you can feel free to skip. But for those who haven't, here's a long boring waffle. I was first aware of the existence of fandom round about 2002, when I was in my second year at St Andrews and my then-boyfriend had some friends who were active in the Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings fandoms. I wasn't really active at that point, especially once I went no contact with this friendship group (this was an "ex kept the friends" situation) and if anything I avoided it a bit so as not to bump into The Piss Artist Formerly Known as Xander (one of my ex's friends posted her fics under that name and went along with it for ages when people assumed Xander was her real name, then started a relationship with this woman in Australia letting her think she was this Xander dude as well)...yeah, there were reasons I remained no contact with that lot.
Flash forward to a couple of years after my graduation, at which point I started getting into Lost, which is the first fandom I was really active in, and is still my top one. (I'll get to my all time top five later, the other four are more recent.) I found myself wanting to expand on the backstories, especially for those characters where canon barely touched them. If you've known me a while, you probably know my "I Think This Flashback's Mostly Filler" pet peeve where it's always bugged me when too much focus is placed on the same old characters while others are pushed aside (yes, Jack's tattoos, I'm looking at you, although Once Upon a Time did flog Regina vs Snow to death a bit as well. I've had this pet peeve since I was about 13, was reading this series about a group of teens on an island off the coast of Maine, and got seriously annoyed at the amount of focus on this one character who I grew to find really irritating). And I wanted to correct certain canon cockups, such as certain character deaths. So that was how I started out in fandom.
Over time, I was active in more fandoms, Fringe, Doctor Who, Vampire Diaries-verse, Arrowverse, Supernatural, Once Upon a Time, How To Get Away with Murder, Roswell New Mexico, Riverdale-verse, Lucifer, Buffyverse, Harper's Island, Cruel Summer, The Wilds, Hunger Games, Pretty Little Liars, Teen Wolf, iZombie, Game of Thrones-verse. At this point in time, my ultimate top five are Lost, Dark, From, Yellowjackets and School Spirits (the last four being shows I got into in the last couple of years, but the ones I'm most active in right now.)
I've had my peaks and my troughs - 2013 is what I refer to as the zombie year after having basically gone through it on autopilot (bit of context for anyone who doesn't know, since Dad wasn't in my life as much after about the early 1990s, my grandad effectively took over as my father figure, and that was the year he died after a short illness), while 2019 was the year I briefly lost confidence after getting trolled. I now know this troll was someone calling themself 0 who was trolling lots of people in the Arrowverse fandom at the time, asking for very specific requests and then leaving repeated rude comments and "corrections" for anyone who didn't write them. (Corrections in inverted commas because for me, what 0 was trying to correct weren't mistakes - a character changing her name in an alternate timeline that was going to be fully explained in a later chapter, a character's reaction to something that was written and posted before that character found out about it in canon so I didn't have that to work with, but the troll was reading after it aired, did have that context, didn't spot that date and decided I was wrong - but if I was being more generous to 0 than I really felt, I could see how they wrongly assumed they were mistakes. Apart from the other one which was just a difference of opinion rather than anything being wrong in the first place.) And 2020 is pretty self explanatory.
The Ferris Wheel
Journaling: Life in fandom goes through ups and downs. Reminisce about the "wild ride" of your time in fandom or in other online communities.
Creative: Create an image or a photo with the theme "let's go for a ride".
If you've known me a while, you probably know a lot of this, so you can feel free to skip. But for those who haven't, here's a long boring waffle. I was first aware of the existence of fandom round about 2002, when I was in my second year at St Andrews and my then-boyfriend had some friends who were active in the Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings fandoms. I wasn't really active at that point, especially once I went no contact with this friendship group (this was an "ex kept the friends" situation) and if anything I avoided it a bit so as not to bump into The Piss Artist Formerly Known as Xander (one of my ex's friends posted her fics under that name and went along with it for ages when people assumed Xander was her real name, then started a relationship with this woman in Australia letting her think she was this Xander dude as well)...yeah, there were reasons I remained no contact with that lot.
Flash forward to a couple of years after my graduation, at which point I started getting into Lost, which is the first fandom I was really active in, and is still my top one. (I'll get to my all time top five later, the other four are more recent.) I found myself wanting to expand on the backstories, especially for those characters where canon barely touched them. If you've known me a while, you probably know my "I Think This Flashback's Mostly Filler" pet peeve where it's always bugged me when too much focus is placed on the same old characters while others are pushed aside (yes, Jack's tattoos, I'm looking at you, although Once Upon a Time did flog Regina vs Snow to death a bit as well. I've had this pet peeve since I was about 13, was reading this series about a group of teens on an island off the coast of Maine, and got seriously annoyed at the amount of focus on this one character who I grew to find really irritating). And I wanted to correct certain canon cockups, such as certain character deaths. So that was how I started out in fandom.
Over time, I was active in more fandoms, Fringe, Doctor Who, Vampire Diaries-verse, Arrowverse, Supernatural, Once Upon a Time, How To Get Away with Murder, Roswell New Mexico, Riverdale-verse, Lucifer, Buffyverse, Harper's Island, Cruel Summer, The Wilds, Hunger Games, Pretty Little Liars, Teen Wolf, iZombie, Game of Thrones-verse. At this point in time, my ultimate top five are Lost, Dark, From, Yellowjackets and School Spirits (the last four being shows I got into in the last couple of years, but the ones I'm most active in right now.)
I've had my peaks and my troughs - 2013 is what I refer to as the zombie year after having basically gone through it on autopilot (bit of context for anyone who doesn't know, since Dad wasn't in my life as much after about the early 1990s, my grandad effectively took over as my father figure, and that was the year he died after a short illness), while 2019 was the year I briefly lost confidence after getting trolled. I now know this troll was someone calling themself 0 who was trolling lots of people in the Arrowverse fandom at the time, asking for very specific requests and then leaving repeated rude comments and "corrections" for anyone who didn't write them. (Corrections in inverted commas because for me, what 0 was trying to correct weren't mistakes - a character changing her name in an alternate timeline that was going to be fully explained in a later chapter, a character's reaction to something that was written and posted before that character found out about it in canon so I didn't have that to work with, but the troll was reading after it aired, did have that context, didn't spot that date and decided I was wrong - but if I was being more generous to 0 than I really felt, I could see how they wrongly assumed they were mistakes. Apart from the other one which was just a difference of opinion rather than anything being wrong in the first place.) And 2020 is pretty self explanatory.
Tasha Suri's Burning Kingdoms Trilogy
Jul. 25th, 2025 04:29 pmchestnut_pod posting in fffridayThe Jasmine Throne, The Oleander Sword, and The Lotus Empire
The Burning Kingdoms is an ambitious high-fantasy saga set in an India-inspired secondary world, in which an orphan priestess from an oppressed client state seeking personal and national independence, and the disgraced princess seeking support for her rebellion against her insane brother the emperor, must make common cause. This is a proper epic fantasy with court politics, battles, a doomed (or is it?) romance, dozens of side characters, multiple POVs, the lot.
There is much to like here, though I don’t think it all fully pays off in the end. In part, this is because, in my opinion, the most interesting, developed, and unique character is actually neither Priya (priestess) or Malini (princess), the nominal joint protagonists, but Bhumika, who was herself a priestess in Priya’s order, but during the final submission of their state, married into the new governing nobility. She has a kind of bone-deep pragmatism which expresses itself both in mercilessness and in mercy, and Suri maps her journey over the trilogy towards becoming a leader for a world in which all sides are able to live together with a precise, insightful hand. Meanwhile, as individuals, Priya and Malini have great moments, and their individual storylines (which spend a lot of time apart) are quite convincing as stories and as psychological portraits, but their relationship, which is nominally the core of the series, gets less persuasive with every book. Malini especially gets increasingly flattened as the series goes on, because she has to be a genius commander/coldhearted empress type while also hitting some pretty strained romance beats, and that doesn’t fit together well, particularly compared to Priya, who has more narrative space to grow without messing up the plot-engine, and Bhumika, who basically has the hero’s journey. The whole thing felt like it got a little less expansive with each book, like Suri had bitten off more than she could chew.
However, what she did manage was great. As its own thing, The Jasmine Throne is an enormously successful introductory novel for the trilogy. I loved the way religion exists in this world and in the story. You could say Malini is an atheist or anti-theist, even, while Priya and Bhumika have far more complicated relationships to their gods and the role religion can play as a tool of nationalism and in-group solidarity. Suri takes religious ritual and belief seriously in a way that is rare in SFF, and in that seriousness, she manages to use it to drive a fantastic set of emotional journeys and plot elements. You also get to see so many parts and aspects of this rich world, all described very beautifully, and while I can see how it would be confusing, I enjoy the multiple POVs scattered throughout the book which take us, sometimes very briefly, into the heads of many significant and insignificant individuals throughout the empire.
I am sad that it didn’t quite soar, but it was definitely worth the read.
The Burning Kingdoms is an ambitious high-fantasy saga set in an India-inspired secondary world, in which an orphan priestess from an oppressed client state seeking personal and national independence, and the disgraced princess seeking support for her rebellion against her insane brother the emperor, must make common cause. This is a proper epic fantasy with court politics, battles, a doomed (or is it?) romance, dozens of side characters, multiple POVs, the lot.
There is much to like here, though I don’t think it all fully pays off in the end. In part, this is because, in my opinion, the most interesting, developed, and unique character is actually neither Priya (priestess) or Malini (princess), the nominal joint protagonists, but Bhumika, who was herself a priestess in Priya’s order, but during the final submission of their state, married into the new governing nobility. She has a kind of bone-deep pragmatism which expresses itself both in mercilessness and in mercy, and Suri maps her journey over the trilogy towards becoming a leader for a world in which all sides are able to live together with a precise, insightful hand. Meanwhile, as individuals, Priya and Malini have great moments, and their individual storylines (which spend a lot of time apart) are quite convincing as stories and as psychological portraits, but their relationship, which is nominally the core of the series, gets less persuasive with every book. Malini especially gets increasingly flattened as the series goes on, because she has to be a genius commander/coldhearted empress type while also hitting some pretty strained romance beats, and that doesn’t fit together well, particularly compared to Priya, who has more narrative space to grow without messing up the plot-engine, and Bhumika, who basically has the hero’s journey. The whole thing felt like it got a little less expansive with each book, like Suri had bitten off more than she could chew.
However, what she did manage was great. As its own thing, The Jasmine Throne is an enormously successful introductory novel for the trilogy. I loved the way religion exists in this world and in the story. You could say Malini is an atheist or anti-theist, even, while Priya and Bhumika have far more complicated relationships to their gods and the role religion can play as a tool of nationalism and in-group solidarity. Suri takes religious ritual and belief seriously in a way that is rare in SFF, and in that seriousness, she manages to use it to drive a fantastic set of emotional journeys and plot elements. You also get to see so many parts and aspects of this rich world, all described very beautifully, and while I can see how it would be confusing, I enjoy the multiple POVs scattered throughout the book which take us, sometimes very briefly, into the heads of many significant and insignificant individuals throughout the empire.
I am sad that it didn’t quite soar, but it was definitely worth the read.
[ SECRET POST #6776 ]
Jul. 25th, 2025 06:13 pmcase posting in fandomsecrets⌈ Secret Post #6776 ⌋
Warning: Some secrets are NOT worksafe and may contain SPOILERS.
01.
[Hololive ADVENT]
( More! )
Notes:
Secrets Left to Post: 00 pages, 00 secrets from Secret Submission Post #969.
Secrets Not Posted: [ 0 - broken links ], [ 0 - not!secrets ], [ 0 - not!fandom ], [ 0 - too big ], [ 0 - repeat ].
Current Secret Submissions Post: here.
Suggestions, comments, and concerns should go here.
Sunshine Revival Challenge #7
Jul. 25th, 2025 03:25 pmpauraquesunshine_revival's final challenge is:The Ferris Wheel
Journaling: Life in fandom goes through ups and downs. Reminisce about the "wild ride" of your time in fandom or in other online communities.
Creative: Create an image or a photo with the theme "let's go for a ride".
Hoo boy, that is a spicy journaling prompt! I'm sure I've talked about my fandom experiences many times, but newer friends may not have heard it, so we can go again.
My first fandom experience, for a loose definition of fandom, was when I used to gather with friends every week to watch and discuss the new episode of X-Files. We were 12, so our insights probably weren't that deep, but it was a start. It was through one of those friends that I found out about online fandom, which at the time was mostly conducted on mailing lists and Usenet (which, if you're not familiar, functioned much like Reddit, in that it was divided into user-created forums each centered on a topic, with atmospheres ranging from "pleasant discussion group" to "dumpster inferno").
Through most of my teen years I lurked in fandom spaces, primarily X-Files and Star Trek. I was about 18 when I actually started participating in discussions and posting fic. I made some great friends in X-Files fandom, but within a couple of years the show ended and many people started to move on, and the place a lot of them moved to was Harry Potter fandom, primarily on LiveJournal.
The early to mid 2000s on LJ were definitely the "wild ride" segment of my fandom life. The fandom community was extremely active and emotionally intense, and in trying to match that energy I ended up doing way too much, taking on more projects and moderation duties than I should have, and getting more invested in them than was rational or healthy. I know a lot of people have nostalgia for that era, but for me it was a time when my mental health was bad and fandom wasn't helping. I did make friends, but I was having a hard time telling the difference between real friends and people who were exploiting me or treating me like a fanworks vending machine. (People complain now about those who see fellow fans as "content creators," but I can assure you some fans developed that attitude well in advance of us having that label for it.) Unsurprisingly, I burned out and ended up dropping all my obligations and quitting fandom cold turkey for about three years.
Eventually I came back and learned to take a more thoughtful approach. Since then I've been able to come and go from different fandoms, participating only if I have the desire and the energy, and taking a break if it's not fun. That's summarizing in a sentence what was (and is) a years-long learning process that's not limited to fandom. Fandom is just one of the areas where I was doing and investing too much, but it's been a good place for me to practice not overcommitting because the temptation is always there.
I really appreciate DW as a place where fannish and non-fannish discussions can mingle, and people can talk about their interests and projects without pressure for everybody to focus on one thing or meet expectations of productivity. I see people having fun in fandom here, and that's great, and I see people just talking about their lives, and that's also great. I don't want a wild ride; a nice stroll in the park with friends is just fine with me.
Foot issues
Jul. 25th, 2025 02:24 pmmildred_of_midgardKnee is slowly improving, hamstring is slowly improving, foot is getting worse!
Remember that spot on the ball of my right foot that I injured last year, that popped and slid when I walked on it, caused weird feelings in my middle toes (especially the one next to my big toe), and sometimes was painful? I had to buy whole new shoes to deal with it and consistently wear recovery slides?
Eventually it started to slowly get better, and it finally got to the point where it didn't pop even when I stepped on it, only if I manipulated it with my fingers.
Well, on one of my recent long walks (2 weeks ago, I think), I made the mistake of massaging it when I was massaging the rest of my foot for pain relief. I figured out last year that I shouldn't do that, but I thought it was safe this year! Alas, no, the spot has not recovered that much.
I immediately noticed it was popping again around the house. "Dammit, I re-stretched the spot that had been slowly tightening. Fine, it'll get better again like it did last time."
Two days ago, I was out on a short walk about half a block away, and I noticed the weird sensations in my toes. It's hard to explain, but the middle toes feel cooler and also mostly wet. Last year they would feel mostly warm and wet, but right now it's 36 Celsius, so maybe everything feels cool in comparison to that.
This is happening around the house even in my orthopedic slides, and I'm not sure what's up with that. I had noticed that my outdoor slides had deformed due to normal wear and tear (that's what you get for walking 5-8 miles a day in them, I guess), and I was overdue for buying new ones (they're expensive, which is why I was putting them off). It also occurred to me that the insoles in my regular shoes are a year old and probably also flattened, so I've ordered new ones of those.
Hopefully those help! I need to be able to start walking again! I was just starting to envision a future in which my knee and hamstrings were stable enough to allow running again. This weekend will be perfect walking weather, but I may need to stay home, finish revising the latest draft of Peter Keith, and give my foot another week to see if the new footwear helps. We'll see if I actually adhere to that plan. (I continue to badly need a break from writing about Peter Keith.)
Remember that spot on the ball of my right foot that I injured last year, that popped and slid when I walked on it, caused weird feelings in my middle toes (especially the one next to my big toe), and sometimes was painful? I had to buy whole new shoes to deal with it and consistently wear recovery slides?
Eventually it started to slowly get better, and it finally got to the point where it didn't pop even when I stepped on it, only if I manipulated it with my fingers.
Well, on one of my recent long walks (2 weeks ago, I think), I made the mistake of massaging it when I was massaging the rest of my foot for pain relief. I figured out last year that I shouldn't do that, but I thought it was safe this year! Alas, no, the spot has not recovered that much.
I immediately noticed it was popping again around the house. "Dammit, I re-stretched the spot that had been slowly tightening. Fine, it'll get better again like it did last time."
Two days ago, I was out on a short walk about half a block away, and I noticed the weird sensations in my toes. It's hard to explain, but the middle toes feel cooler and also mostly wet. Last year they would feel mostly warm and wet, but right now it's 36 Celsius, so maybe everything feels cool in comparison to that.
This is happening around the house even in my orthopedic slides, and I'm not sure what's up with that. I had noticed that my outdoor slides had deformed due to normal wear and tear (that's what you get for walking 5-8 miles a day in them, I guess), and I was overdue for buying new ones (they're expensive, which is why I was putting them off). It also occurred to me that the insoles in my regular shoes are a year old and probably also flattened, so I've ordered new ones of those.
Hopefully those help! I need to be able to start walking again! I was just starting to envision a future in which my knee and hamstrings were stable enough to allow running again. This weekend will be perfect walking weather, but I may need to stay home, finish revising the latest draft of Peter Keith, and give my foot another week to see if the new footwear helps. We'll see if I actually adhere to that plan. (I continue to badly need a break from writing about Peter Keith.)