#I have only seen them state how much the fine line era means to them and how it’s helping them find themselves (and that is not gonna apply

[writingwithcolor]

I'm writing an AU of a movie that takes place in the 1880s USA, where a travelling white character and a Jewish character are waylaid by Native Americans, who they befriend. Probably because it was written by and about PoC (Jews) the scene actually avoids the stuff on your Native American Masterpost, but I'd still like to do better than a movie made in the 1980's, and I feel weird cutting them from the plot entirely. I have a Jewish woman reading it for that, but are there any things you (1/1)

2/2 1880s western movie ask--are there things you'd LIKE to see in a movie where a white man and a Jewish man run into Native Americans in the 1880s? I do plan to base them on a real tribe (Ute, probably) and have proper housing/clothes and so forth, but right now I'm just trying to avoid or subvert awful cowboy movie tropes. Any ideas?

White and Jewish Men, Native American interactions in 1880s

I am vaguely concerned with how you only cite one of our posts about Native Americans, that was not written by a Native person, and do not cite any of the posts relating to this time period, or any posts relating to representation in media. 

Sidenote: if you want us to give accurate reflections of the media you’re discussing, please tell us the NAME. I cannot go look up this movie based off this description to give you an idea of what my issues are with this scene, and must instead trust that the representation is good based off your judgement. I cannot make my own judgement. This is a problem. Especially since your whole question boils down to “this scene is good but not great and I want it to be great. How can I do that?”

Your baseline for “good” could very well be my baseline for “terrible hack job”. I can’t give you the proper education required for you to be able to accurately evaluate the media you’re watching for racist stereotypes if you don’t tell me what you’re even working with.

When you’re writing fanfic where the media is directly relevant to the question, please tell us the name of the media. We will not judge your tastes. We need this information in order to properly help you.

Moving on.

I bring up my concern for you citing that one—exceptionally old—post because it is lacking in many of the tropes that don’t exist in the media critique field but exist in the real world. This is an issue I have run into countless times on WWC (hence further concern you did not cite any other posts) and have spoken about at length. 

People look at the media critique world exclusively, assume it is a complete evaluation of how Native Americans are seen in society, and as a result end up ignoring some really toxic stereotypes and then come to the inbox with “these characters aren’t abc trope, so they’re fine, but I want to rubber stamp them anyway. Anything wrong here?”. The answer is pretty much always yes. 

Issue one: “Waylaid” by Native Americans

This wording is extremely loaded for one reason: Native American people are seen as tricksters, liars, and predators. This is the #1 trope that shows up in the real world that does not show up in media critique. It’s also the trope I have talked about the most when it comes to media representation, so you not knowing the trope is a sign you haven’t read the entirety of the Native tag—which is in the FAQ as something we would really prefer you did before coming at us to answer questions. It avoids us having to re-explain ourselves.

Now, hostility is honestly to be expected for the time period the movie is set in. This is in the beginnings (or ramping up) of residential schools in America* and Canada, we have generations upon generations of stolen or killed children, reserves being allocated perhaps hundreds of miles from sacred sites, and various wars with Plains and Southwest peoples are in full force (Wounded Knee would have happened in 1890, in December, and the Dakoa’s mass execution would have been in 1862. Those are just the big-name wars. There absolutely were others). 

*America covers up its residential schools abuse extremely thoroughly, so if you try to research them in the American context you will come up empty. Please research Canada’s schools and apply the same abuse to America, as Canada has had a Truth and Reconciliation Commission about residential schools and therefore is more (but not completely) transparent about the abuse that happened. Please note that America’s history with residential schools is longer than Canada’s history. There is an extremely large trigger warning for mass child death when you do this research.

But just because the hostility is expected does not mean that this hostility would be treated well in the movie. Especially when you consider the sheer amount of tension between any Native actors and white actors, for how Sacheen Littlefeather had just been nearly beaten up by white actors at the 1973 Academy Awards for mentioning Wounded Knee, and the American Indian Religious Freedom Act had only been passed two years prior in 1978. 

These Native actors would not have had the ability to truly consent to how they were shown, and this power dynamic has to be in your mind when you watch this scene over. I don’t care that the writers were from a discriminated-against background. This does not always result in being respectful, and I’ve also spoken about this power imbalance at length (primarily in the cowboy tag).

Documentaries and history specials made in the 2010s (with some degree of academic muster) will still fall into wording that harkens Indigenous people to wolves and settlers as frightened prey animals getting picked off by the mean animalistic Natives. This is not neutral, or good. This is perpetuating the myth that the settlers were helpless, just doing their own thing completely unobtrusively, and then the evil territorial Native Americans didn’t want to share.

To paraphrase Batman: if I had a week I couldn’t explain all the reasons that’s wrong.

How were these characters waylaid by the Native population? Because that answer—which I cannot get because you did not name the media—will determine how good the framing is. But based on the time period this movie was made alone, I do not trust it was done respectfully.

Issue 2: “Befriending”

I mentioned this was in an intense period of residential schools and land wars all in that area. The Ute themselves had just been massacred by Mormons in the Grass Valley Massacre in 1865, with ten men and an unknown number of women and children killed thanks to a case of assumed association with a war chief (Antonga Black Hawk) currently at war with Utah. The Paiute had been massacred in 1866. Over 100 Timpanogo men had been killed, with an unknown number of women and children enslaved by Brigham Young in Salt Lake City in 1850, with many of the enslaved people dying in captivity (those numbers were not tracked, but I would assume at least two hundred were enslaved— that’s simply assuming one woman/wife and one child for every man, and the numbers could have very well been higher if any war-widows and their children were in the group, not to mention families with multiple children). This is after an unknown group of Indigenous people had been killed by Governor Brigham Young the year prior, to “permanently stop cattle theft” from settlers. 

The number of Native Americans killed in Utah in the 1800s—just the number of dead counted (since women and children weren’t counted)—in massacres not tied to war (because there was at least one war) is over 130. The actual number of random murders is much higher; between the uncounted deaths and how the Governor had issued orders to “deal with” the problem of cattle theft permanently. I doubt you would have been tried or convicted if you murdered Indigenous peoples on “your” land. This is why it’s called state sanctioned genocide.

This is not counting the Black Hawk War in Utah (1865-1872), which the Ute were absolutely a part of (the wiki articles I read were contradictory if Antonga Black Hawk was Ute or Timpanogo, but the Ute were part of it). The first official massacre tied to the war—the Bear River Massacre, ordered by the US Military—places the death count of just that singular massacre at over five hundred Shoshone, including elders, women, and children. It would not be unreasonable to assume that the number of Indigenous people killed in Utah from 1850, onward, is over a thousand, perhaps two or three.

Pardon me for not reading beyond that point to list more massacres and simply ballparking a number; the source will be linked for you to get an accurate number of dead.

So how did they befriend the Native population? Let alone see them as fully human considering the racism of the time period? Natives were absolutely not seen as fully human so long as they were tied to their culture, and assimilation equalling some sliver of respect was already a stick being waved around as a threat. This lack of humanity continues to the present day.

I’m not saying friendship is impossible. I am saying the sheer levels of mistrust that would exist between random wandering groups of white/pale men and Indigenous communities wouldn’t exactly make that friendship easy. Having the scene end be a genuine friendship feels ignorant and hollow and flattening of ongoing genocide, because settlers lied about their intentions and then lined you up for slauther (that’s how the Timpanogo were killed and enslaved).

Utah had already done most of its mass killing by this point. The era of trusting them was over. There was an active open hunting season, and the acceptable targets were the Indigenous populations of Utah.

(sources for the numbers: 

List of Indian Massacres in North America Black Hawk War (1865-1872))

Issue 3: “Proper housing/clothes and so forth”

Do you mean Western style settlements and jeans? If yes, congratulations you have written a reservation which means the land-ripped-away wounds are going to be fresh, painful, and sore.

You do not codify what you mean by “proper”, and proper is another one of those deeply loaded colonial words that can mean “like a white man” or “appropriate for their tribe.” For the time period, it would be the former. Without specifying which direction you’re going for, I have no idea what you’re imagining. And without the name of the media, I don’t know what the basis of this is.

The reservation history of this time period seems to maybe have some wiggle room; there were two reservations allocated for the Ute at this time, one made in 1861 and another made in 1882 (they were combined into the Uintah and Ouray Indian Reservation in 1886). This is all at the surface level of a google and wikipedia search, so I have no idea how many lived in the bush and how many lived on the reserve. 

There were certainly land defenders trying to tell Utah the land did not belong to them, so holdouts that avoided getting rounded up were certainly possible. But these holdouts would be far, far more hostile to anyone non-Native.

The Ute seemed to be some degree of lucky in that the reserve is on some of their ancestral territory, but any loss of land that large is going to leave huge scars. 

It should be noted that reserves would mean the traditional clothing and housing would likely be forbidden, because assimilation logic was in full force and absolutely vicious at this time. 

It’s a large reserve, so the possibility exists they could have accidentally ended up within the borders of it. I’m not sure how hostile the state government was for rounding up all the Ute, so I don’t know if there would have been pockets of them hiding out. In present day, half of the Ute tribe lives on the reserve, but this wasn’t necessarily true historically—it could have been a much higher percentage in either direction.

It’s up to you if you want to make them be reservation-bound or not. Regardless, the above mentioned genocide would have been pretty fresh, the land theft in negotiations or already having happened, and generally, the Ute would be well on their way to every assimilation attempt made from either residential schools, missionaries, and/or the forced settlement and pre-fab homes.

To Answer Your Question

I don’t want another flattened, sanitized portrayal of genocide.

Look at the number of dead above, the amount of land lost above, the amount of executive orders above. And try to tell me that these people would be anything less than completely and totally devastated. Beyond traumatized. Beyond broken hearted. Absolutely grief stricken with almost no soul left.

Their religion would have been illegal. Their children would have been stolen. Their land was taken away. A saying about post-apocalyptic fiction is how settler-based it is, because Indigenous people have already lived through their own apocalypse.

It would have all just happened at the time period this story is set in. All of the grief you feel now at the environment changing so drastically that you aren’t sure how you’ll survive? Take that, magnify it by an exponential amount because it happened, and you have the mindset of these Native characters.

This is not a topic to tread lightly. This is not a topic to read one masterpost and treat it as a golden rule when there is too much history buried in unmarked, overfull graves of school grounds and cities and battlefields. I doubt the movie you’re using is good representation if it doesn’t even hint at the amount of trauma these Native characters would have been through in thirty years.

A single generation, and the life that they had spent millennia living was gone. Despite massive losses of life trying to fight to preserve their culture and land.

Learn some history. That’s all I can tell you. Learn it, process it, and look outside of checklists. Look outside of media. 

And let us have our grief.

~ Mod Lesya

On Question Framing

Please allow me the opportunity to comment on “are there things you'd LIKE to see in a movie where a white man and a Jewish man run into Native Americans in the 1880s?” That strikes me as the same type of question as asking what color food I’d like for lunch. I don’t see how the cultural backgrounds of characters I have literally no other information about is supposed to make me want anything in particular about them. I don’t know anything about their personalities or if they have anything in common.

Compare the following questions:

“Are there things you’d like to see in a movie where two American women, one from a Nordic background and one Jewish, are interacting?” I struggle to see how our backgrounds are going to yield any further inspiration. It certainly doesn’t tell you that we’re both queer and cling to each other’s support in a scary world; it doesn’t tell you that we uplift each other through mental illness; it doesn’t go into our 30 years of endless bizarre inside jokes related to everything from mustelids to bad subtitles.

Because: “white”, “Jewish”, and “Native American” aren’t personality words. You can ask me what kind of interaction I’d like to see from a high-strung overachieving woman and a happy-go-lucky Manic Pixie Dream Girl, and I’ll tell you I’d want fluffy f/f romance. Someone else might want conflict ultimately resolving in friendship. A third person might want them slowly getting on each other’s nerves more and more until one becomes a supervillain and the other must thwart her. But the same question about a cultural demographic? That told me nothing about the people involved.

Also, the first time I meet a new person from a very different culture, it might take weeks before discussion of our specific cultural differences comes up. As a consequence, my first deep conversations with a Costa Rican American gentile friend were not about Costa Rica or my Jewishness but about things we had in common: classical music and coping with breakups--which are obviously conversations I could have had if we were both Jewish, both Costa Rican gentiles, or both something else. So in other words, I’m having trouble seeing how knowing so little about these characters is supposed to give me something to want to see on the page.

Thank you for understanding.

(And yes, I agree with Lesya, what’s with this trend of people trying to explain their fandom in a roundabout way instead of mentioning it by name? It makes it harder to give meaningful help….)

--Shira

#platypan #genocide #native american #North America #america #history #american history #media #representation #asks

[jezabelofthenorth]

Is Anne Boleyn portrayed better than Catherine of Aragon in Tudor dramas or does she just take her clothes off?

Or I've watched almost every Anne Boleyn thing over the past six months and I'm certain at this point you guys are watching different movies than I am

edit: i;m sorry meant to include there is rape mention cw in this

Okay I might get a little mean here, but at this point I'm convinced no one thinks critically about this, like the constant amount of whinging I see about how Catherine is treated just soooo badly in Tudor dramas and always neglected is wild because it is just not true. I would say the only piece of media that treats Anne like a full person is Anne of The Thousand Days, and that's a 50 year old movie. I started thinking about this when I rewatched season 1 of The Tudors back in August because like, it's really abundantly clear who Michael Hirst likes better and it is not Anne. Anne barely feels like a full character in season 1, Henry is madly in love with her,. Her father is scheming to make that worth their while along with George, but where exactly is Anne in all that?

She gets a considerable amount of screentime but very little insight into what she actually feels about all this, is she in love with Henry too? Does she just want to be queen and is manipulating him? We never get an actual moment where it's made clear so you can pretty much apply whatever interpretation you want there, which is bad! Is Anne actually the female lead here, because she doesn't feel like it at all,  I feel like this gets forgotten because Natalie adds so much depth to Anne you feel like there's more going on, but there really isn't,  Hirst neglects Anne's own feelings about her situation considerably, to a point Natalie has stated she had to push him to give Anne more of a character in season 2. I would say Hirst is just bad at writing women, which like.....he is, but he doesn't have this issue with Catherine, Catherine is a very clear character from the start, which she should be! It's clear what her motives are and what she feels, if I'm honest Catherine in season 1 is probably a little too perfect, like she truly does not have a single negative quality, the worst part is when she calls Anne a whore but I don't think we as the audience is meant to take that as bad on her part which......eh?

The real significance difference is here is how they're portrayed sexually, I do think Catherine and Henry should have had more intimate scenes and Hirst clearly shied away from that because Maria is older, which makes him a coward, but Anne getting treated as a sex object doesn't mean she has better character development,  I mean think about that one!  I mainly got inspired to write this as I just rewatched The Other Boleyn Girl which I hadn't seen in years and in my memory  I thought Catherine hadn't had a good portrayal but like it's fine? She's in most of the movie, she's portrayed as a resilient woman, she gets her Blackfriars speech, is there really a problem here or are you guys actually mad that Natalie Portman is young and beautiful in this and Ana Torrent was in her forties? Because I'll have to draw attention that in this film Catherine again doesn't have a single bad quality while Anne gets raped by Henry before they're even married, so if I was going to get angry about something, I know what it is. It seems to me for years it is been standard to suggest because Anne is portrayed as a young, beautiful women and the utmost sexual desire of Henry's eye that it means she is treated well, but extreme sexulization is actually not interchangeable with respect for Anne as a woman and it is more than obvious than many film makers have absolutely none for her.It is not disrespectful to Catherine to portray her as an older woman, she was 42 when The Great Matter began, there is nothing wrong with being an older woman, the most dramatic parts of Catherine's life took place when she was in her forties, the most dramatic parts of Anne's life took place in her twenties and thirties, that is a simple fact of history.

To open a can of worms that seemed to set a certain part of the internet on fire, let's tackle The Spanish Princess now. Emma Frost and Matthew Graham were quite clear in their veneration for Catherine and their certainty that she has been a maligned figure in history. This seems at odds when you would cross reference most historiography on Catherine, as she seems to be one of the few figures of the Tudor period that has a universally positive reputation .

Through out the two season run both showrunners made their disdain for Anne quite obvious, which was rather odd given they had created a show about Catherine and there wasn't really any need to mention Anne at all. Which makes the choice to include from the start of season 2 particularly bizarre, given historically Anne was in France for the 1510's and would not have been present in the English Court and did not become a Lady in Waiting until in the 1520's. The show does not make it clear who she is and it is only known if you search the role Alice Nokes is playing, which makes her role to be one of heavy handed foreshadowing which simply takes up space to present friendships Catherine had with her actual Ladies of the time. It is not made fully clear who Anne is until the final episode, an episode where Anne is not permitted to speak even though she is in most of the episode and her biggest moment is where she meets Henry late at night in a garden, and removes her clothes to reveal her breasts to him.

Through out the season Anne's male relatives, her father Thomas Boleyn, and her grandfather Thomas Howard are featured prominently. While Anne and her sister Mary are pushed to the side lines and barely given a voice, for a show that claims to present history from the view of women of the era, that seems a choice in poor sport. It could be quite easy to remove Anne entirely from the show, or only make passing mentions of her, instead the choice was to have her exist on the sidelines, mostly voiceless and then to have her be on the forefront as a sexual object to Henry.

In a show that claimed to want to want to give us Catherine's full story, from the time as a 15 year old bride, to a matured, tested Queen, it instead seemed to take a route of focusing on Catherine's less appealing qualities and even gave her faults she never had (as in rejecting her daughter Mary for her gender when it is well known Catherine was an adoring mother). The show seems to think presenting Catherine as a truly unappealing heroine is canceled out by portraying her as a young, beautiful woman, and sexually desired by Henry, that feels extremely insulting to Catherine, who was a tough woman and her best quality certainly wasn't the fact that Henry and Catherine had an active sex life during the first decade of their marriage. You have to see where the decades of presenting Anne as sexually desired by Henry has infected Tudor media in how another Catherine is portrayed here as if a woman should be portrayed positively only through how much their husband desires them.   It simply doesn't matter who you prefer over Catherine and Anne, the misogyny of that choice seems quite clear. I simply can't think of a single piece of Tudor media that gives Catherine of Aragon such an offensive role to play.        

#anne boleyn #catherine of aragon #the tudors #the other boleyn girl #the spanish princess #rape mention cw

[junicai]

누나 너무 예뻐.

| order no. | 1 / 21

| summary | Jisung knows Aria is pretty. However, knowing something, and seeing it, are two very different things. 

| word count | 1.4k

| warnings | none 

| era | circa. August 2019

Jisung knew that objectively, Aria was vey pretty. Beautiful even. He knew that. Understood the fact that when the makeup noonas got their hands on her, she was downright stunning; dolled up to the nines. 

However, it was hard to remember that fact when he’d seen her at all hours of the night, with sweat matting her hair to her forehead and her eyes sunken in - glaring across the room as if she was going to throttle Renjun if he even dared to try make them run the routine again.

She had attempted the room-length lunge once, but had fallen about a half length short when her knees gave out on her. Renjun’s barely muffled snort put him on the receiving end of her steak-knife glare again, but the effect was muted by the fact that Aria had yet to lift her face from its smushed position on the sprung-wooden floor. 

Even around the dorms, Aria would opt for a more comfortable option of clothing - usually items of loungewear that didn’t belong to her. She’d wander around in Jeno’s too big sweatpants and a filched hoodie from Jaemin’s wardrobe, or in a loose t-shirt stolen from Jisung’s own drawers. 

It was fine - the boys all ended up sharing a lot of their clothes anyway, so when bits and pieces went missing every few days, they’d just have to slip into Aria’s room to collect them. 

Although, he wished she hadn’t taken such a fancy to his new orange sweatshirt. It was fuzzy on the inside and extremely snuggly - which seemed to be the exact reason why after a week of it residing in the back of his wardrobe, it mysteriously went missing. Only to appear a couple of days later on Aria’s person. 

She’d even had the gall to play innocent. 

So, when it came down to it - in black and white - Jisung knew that, yes, Aria could be jaw-dropping when the time called for it.

But that was very different to actually seeing it. 

“Sungie? You okay?” Aria called over from the kitchen, a glass clinking as it hit the counter top.

Jisung had stopped in the middle of a sentence, hands that were idly fiddling with his phone as he mindlessly flicked through Instagram now frozen. He paused for a moment, before rapidly scrolling back up on his feed. 

When Aria received no response, she stuck her head out of the doorway. “Sungie?” She crossed the short distance, peering over his shoulder. “Oh! What’s this?” 

Jisung turned an accusing look on her. “You tell me! You did another interview with VOGUE and didn’t tell us?” He swiped across into the next image on the post, eyes bulging slightly. “VOGUE New York? You went to New York?” 

Aria bit her lip to hold back the smile that she knew was tweaking at the corner of her mouth. “No - we took the photos here, and the company sent it on to the management team over there. The interview was done over the phone, look?” She pointed towards the bottom of the description that accompanied the post, where it stated:

“This interview was conducted over a telecommunications line. Any and all mistakes in the script are due to a bad connection, and are not a representation of the idol or the company.”

Jisung relaxed back into the couch slightly. He wasn’t sure how he could have missed Aria jetting out of the country for a few days, but he’d done it once with Chenle - something which the boy had never let him live down, despite the fact that Jisung had been running a fever and was mildly delirious with the fact that his walls were swimming - and he wouldn’t put it past himself to do it again. 

“Mhm, I think the photos came out pretty nice, but I’m not sure they used many of them. “Aria sounded slightly put out. It was rare that she truly liked her own editorials; she was far too critical of her own appearance in Jisung’s eyes. 

But then again; Jisung was biased. 

He swiped through to the end of the post, seeing no trace of the pictures that she mentioned. 

“Maybe they’re on the official blog?” 

She sighed, patting his head gently. “Nah, I already checked. They used the close up one, but everything else got put in the bin I think. They emailed us back and said the ‘lighting’ was wrong or something, which sounds ridiculous to me, but hey.” She shrugged in fake nonchalance. “It’s VOGUE, who knows.” 

Jisung frowned at her tone. She genuinely sounded upset - and was obviously trying to hide it. 

And failing miserably, if even Jisung was picking up on it. 

“Can I see them?” 

Aria made a sound of confusion in the back of her throat. “See what?”

“The pictures.” 

She hummed in understanding, and then shook her head. “Oh no, Sungie, it’s okay! I’m just blabbering, they’re not anything important don’t worry.” She spun to leave back to the kitchen.

Jisung snagged her wrist and spun her back. “Can I see, noona? Please?” 

Aria squinted at him, eyebrows creasing. “Uh, sure? You don’t have to, I know editorial shoots aren’t your thing.” Despite her words, she was slipping out her phone from her back pocket, unlocking it and scrolling through her gallery to find the pictures. 

Jisung sat slightly impatient, fingers tapping against his knee. She was right - editorial shoots weren’t really his thing. He much preferred the yearbook-style shoots that Dream did; a little more carefree and a little less rigid; but if Aria was bringing this up then obviously there was something to be had. 

She handed over the phone, pointing to the picture on the small digital screen. 

The device was swamped in Jisung’s larger hands, and for the nth time he questioned why she still used an android. 

He cradled it carefully, turning his attention away from the horrific fact that the phone still had a physical home button, and onto the picture displayed above it. 

At first, it was difficult to make out exactly what he was seeing, like his brain was refusing to put the pieces together. There was chiffon, and flowers, and butterflies? And a lot of soft blue colours, but it was like his brain was malfunctioning - a loading circle slowly spinning where basic visual comprehension was meant to happen. 

Had he gone blind? 

Jisung knew he needed to get his eyes checked again, but he didn’t think it was this bad. Maybe it wasn’t blue, maybe that was just the sunlight refracting on the water beneath Aria’s feet - yes that was Aria in the picture, which was good, he recognized her, which meant that no, he wasn’t going blind. 

That’s good. 

“-ungie?” Aria tapped on his shoulder. 

“Noona, when did you get so pretty?” Jisung turned to her, breathing out the words on an exhale with wide eyes. 

Aria retracted slightly and Jisung braced himself for the laugh and accompanying thumb that would have occurred had he said those words to anyone else. 

But this wasn’t anyone else; this was Aria, and Aria was just kind of, standing there? Lips parted slightly in surprise. 

Jisung blinked twice, fumbling with the phone in his haste to give it back to her. He almost dropped it and felt bad for a split second before remembering that it was an android and that was enough for it to deserve to be thrown down the stairs. 

“N-not like you weren’t pretty before it’s just that, in the pictures you - the lighting is good I don’t know what they didn’t like it’s all so blue-”

Aria leant over the back of the couch to ruffle Jisung’s hair with a soft, fond smile. “Thanks, Sungie.”

Jisung leant into the hand. “I mean it, noona. You look great.” 

“I know you do.” She nudged his shoulder with her own, a feat only possible because she was stood up and Jisung was slouching forward on the couch. “But don’t let Jaem hear you say that - he’ll think he’s being replaced as your favourite.” 

“You are my favourite, noona. I don’t know where he keeps getting that.” 

Aria sighed lightly, carding a hand through Jisung’s hair as she shuffled over to pull the much larger boy’s head into her lap. “I know. Neither do I.”

#*moonlight café #nct 24th member #nct #nct imagines #nct additions #nct female member #nct extra member #nct female member au #nct additional member #nct addition #kpop additions #kpop addition #kpop #kpop!oc #nct female oc #superm #wayv #nct dream

[harryibo]

No Working Tonight

Note:...hi jkhdskhf this is my first ever fic i’ve ever written so.....if its not good then this never happened lkdjjk. Anyways i’m not really sure how I feel about this so let me know what you think bc idk if i’m in love with it. Also, sorry for any mistakes like i’ve said i’ve never done this before lmao.

content: assistant!y/n X harry styles 

warnings: none really, drinking maybe. 

word count: 2.1k+

                                            ///

Y/n has been running around all day trying to get things ready for tonight. Tonight was very important and everything had to be perfect. She’s spent half of her day on the rooftop of one of Harry’s favorite fancy clubs in LA, where the party is going to be. She’s been setting up tables and making sure there was enough drinks and food for every one that RSVPed. Tonight they were celebrating the end of love on tour. Celebrating the end of the fine line era really. He’s worked so hard writing, recording and then touring. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t proud of him. 

Now though, she can’t think about that, she needs to focus so she can finish up and head home to get ready for tonight. Just as she’s going over the last few things with the staff of the club, Harry walks in.

 “Hey!” Y/n says when she notices him “What are you doing here? You’re Supposed to be getting ready for tonight!” 

“I could ask ya the same thing! thought I told ya no workin’ tonigh’” he replies. 

“Hmm, no rest for the wicked I guess” y/n jokes. “Anyways, what are you doing here??”

 “Came to drop some things off ’or tonigh’, but I was serious! No workin’! Go home! Get ready! You’re not my assistant tonigh’ you're a Guest, and guests aren’t to arrive for a few more hours.” Harry replied.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry! I just want to make sure everything is perfect for tonight! You’ve worked hard.”

 “n’ I’m sure it will be, you’ve worked just as hard as me love, if anythin’, tonigh’ is a celebration of you to, couldn'ta done it without ya.”

“Don’t say that” y/n says, rolling her eyes. “I just follow your orders” she fake smiles at him. 

He copies her previous movement, rolling his own eyes. “go home Before I have to call security on ya, I’ll see you tonigh’ love.”

                                             ///

Y/n showed up early of course. To make sure everything was still running smoothly. And it was, of course, she was the one who set this all up after all. 

As the night went on, more and more friends and family of Harry’s have arrived. She’s never seen him so happy. He was practically glowing under all the praise he was getting. He deserved it all. 

“Y/n!” She heard Harry call, breaking her out of her thought. “Come over here! There’s someone I want you to meet!” 

She excused herself from the Conversation she was pretending to be interested in. Making her way over to Harry, grabbing another Champagne glass off a tray of a server who walked by.

“Harry” he said, placing his hand on her back and pulling her a tad bit closer. “this is y/n l/n, y/n, this is Harry Lambert.” 

“Oh, yes of course!” Y/n said, shaking his hand. “I’ve heard so much about you!” 

“As have I you!” Lambert replied. “I can’t believe it’s taken us so long to meet! As we both spend as much time with H as we do.” 

The night went on like that. Harry pulling her from groups of people to people, introducing her to everyone he could.

It would have been a little strange to y/n if she didn’t have quite as many champagne glasses in her as she did, but Harry did say she wasn’t working tonight after all. So why was he keeping her so close by? If he didn’t need her for anything, why was he making sure she wasn’t out of his sight all night? 

A couple of new acquaintances and Champagne glasses later. Jeff stepped up on a makeshift stage. “If I could get everyone's attention for just a moment please?” He said into a microphone. “Hi, I’m sorry, I’ll let you all get back to eating and mingling amongst yourselves In just a Moment, I just wanted to say a few words about the man of the hour.” 

Jeff’s promise to be just a moment did not come true. After Jeff had said a speech about how proud he was of Harry, there seemed to be a line of others who also wanted to share just how proud they were of him. And again, he was glowing. Complements looked good on him.

Maybe it was the champagne, or maybe it was just The sheer fact that y/n was so proud of Harry that she couldn’t keep it in any longer and she felt the need to share her own speech of praise in front of all his friends and family.

Mitch was finishing up his speech, so she went and stood by the makeshift stage so when he was done, he would pass her the microphone. 

“Hi everybody.” y/n said into the mic once Mitch wrapped his speech up. “so I guess it's my turn to say a few words now.” she said with a small laugh.

“Um, for those of you who don’t know me, I’m y/n l/n, H’s assistant….servant, same thing right?” She laughed as did everyone in the crowd.

She made eye contact with Harry who was rolling his eyes at her previous joke. “no no, I’m just kidding, Harry’s actually really amazing to work with. He always jokes about he doesn’t know where he’d be without me, he’d truly lose his head if It wasn’t screwed on.” she laughs again. “but really, I’m not sure where I’d be if it wasn’t for him.” Her voice softened.

“I’m just so so proud of you and the man you have become H, and I know everyone else here is too. You are truely, the most selfless hard working man I know, and I just can’t say enough how proud I am of you. Congratulations on fine line.” She finishes, holding up her champagne glass as a toast, and the rest of the crowd follows. 

She steps off the small stage and hands the microphone over to the next person. Walking over to where Harry is standing.

He has such a content look on his face. “hey.” she starts.

“Hi.” he smiles. “thank you.” He says, pulling her into a hug. “really, your words mean a lot to me, so thank you.” 

“Of course H, I meant everything I said.” she says into his neck.

She spends the rest of the speeches by him, with his hands on both her shoulders gently swaying them both. Every once in a while she’ll look up at Harry’s face to see his endeared smile at someone talking about him on stage, or laughing at something they said. 

A few more complaints and embarrassing stories later, the night is winding down and people are starting to head out. Y/n is one of the last people there, helping clean up, and making sure all the dishes and decor that Harry brought from home himself, gets back to his place.

“’scuse me? Thought I told you no workin’ tonigh’” Harry says, walking over to her.

She smiles at him. “if I don’t do this then who will?” She starts to walk to him, meeting him in the middle when she trips, almost falling but Harry reached out and grabbed her. “woah, careful love.”

“See I told you,” she said. “wasn’t working tonight, had too much champagne.” 

“Yeah I see that, not really in a state to drive are ya?” 

“Probably not, I was gonna call myself an Uber.”

“Nonsense, ride with me?”

“Mhhh okay, but only because I’m gonna be the one calling your car round anyways. It’s the least you can do.” She jokes.

As they walk down the stairs and to the front of the building where his car is waiting for them, Harry keeps a hand on her the whole time, just in case she falls again. 

“Here ya go love.” he says, opening her door, helping her climb in, and buckling her seat belt.

“Thank you, but I can buckle myself up you know?”

“Hm, judging from that almost fall upstairs, doubtful.” Harry replies, climbing in his own seat next to her. “Home please.” He tells his driver.

“Not funny.” y/n says, laying her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes. “you have fun tonight H?” 

If Harry’s heart could burst, he swears it would right then and there. “I did love.” He chuckles.

“Why are you laughing? I’m serious you know?” 

“Mh so I am. You’re a sleepy drunk huh? Don’t think I’ve ever seen you drunk before.”

“I should hope not, you’ve only ever seen me when I’m working” She says, eyes still closed.

“Suppose, did you have fun tonigh’ love?”  

“Mh” She hums. “I’m so cold.” 

“Ya cold? Comere.” He says, pulling her further into him, wrapping his arms around her and running his hands up and down her to warm her up.

“Thanks” she says sleepily.

                                           \\\

“Wake up love, we’re home.” y/n feels Harry whisper into her hair.

She stirs awake, still laying against Harry. Lifting her head up so she’s looking at him, their faces inches apart.

“Hi” she whispers.

“Lo’ love.”

“You’re so pretty.” she whispers at him again.

A couple moments pass before he whispers back. “thank you sweetheart, you’re prettier.” 

She stares up at him again, looking at his eyes, moving down to his lips when he licks them and says “let’s go inside yeah?”

“You brought me back to your house?” She Asks while he helps her step out if the car, still worried about her falling.

“Hm” he hums. “wanted to make sure you’re safe.”

“I’m not that drunk H.” she laughs. “just a little sleepy s’all.” 

“Just let me take care of ya yeah?”

“That’s my job.” she laughs as Harry leads her inside his house. 

“You’re off duties tonigh’, member?”

“Guess you’re right.” 

“Hm, go get yourself changed into some comfy clothes yeah? I’m gonna get ya some water.” 

If she wasn’t so tired and ready to get out of her dress, she would have protested some more, but instead she agreed and headed upstairs to Harry’s room. She must have something here to wear. She has spent a couple nights in Harry’s guest bedroom when she was working too late and Harry didn’t want her to fall asleep on her drive home.

Instead of making her way to the guest bedroom. Something (the champagne most likely) carried her into Harry’s bedroom. She opened his closet doors and ran her fingers across his t-shirt section, that she just color coded a couple of weeks ago. 

She picked her favorite, a white shirt with blue writing that says “enjoy heath, eat your honey” and slipped it on over her head. She also slipped on some of his boxer shorts. 

Feeling more tired than ever. She walked herself over to his bed and laid down on the comforter, deciding she’d wait for Harry there.

                                           \\\

She stirred awake for the second time that night when she felt Harry pulling the comforter over her.

“Shhh, go back to sleep baby, just covering you up.” Harry whispered.

She grabbed his arm when he went to move away. “mm, where you going?” she mumbled, Sleepily. 

“Gonna go lay down in the guest bedroom Love, you stay here yeah?”

“Nooo” she whined, opening her eyes to look at him. “lay with me?”

Again, if Harry’s heart could burst, it would. “Ya want me to stay?”

She nodded her head. “Please?”

“Okay baby I’ll stay, scoot over.”

After Harry climbed into bed, she made herself at home on his chests once again.

“Comfy?” He asked.

“Mhh” she hummed, looking up at him. “Harry?”

“Yeah love?” He said, looking back down at her.

She was laying on his chests still, head facing up so that she was looking directly at him. She scanned his face, starting at his eyes, they were content, she traveled down to his lips, staying there, watching them whisper “not nice to Stare love” after a moment.

He brings his hand down to her own lips, dragging his thumb across them.

 “H?” She whispers again.

He brings his eyes back up to hers.

“Kiss me.” She says.

“What?” 

“Please.” She whispered back, pulling herself closer to him.

He searched her eyes for any sign of doubt. When he found none, he leaned in connecting their lips, kissing her soft at first. He pulled back, looked at her again, making sure she was still alright, then leaned back in, kissing her and kissing her, until they both ran out of breath. 

She laid her chin on his chest, smiling up at him, while he’s running his fingers through her hair. 

“Ya good?” He asks, smiling at her content face. 

“The best”  She replied.

#sorry the ending sucks jhdjk #hs #mine #no working tonight #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x assistant!yn #assistant!yn #harry styles pictures #fine line #hs2 #reader insert #harry styles x you #one direction fanfiction #one direction fic #one direction imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles au

[qqueenofhades]

Okay, y'all. Time to do this one more time. Let the fact that there are so many of these posts right now reinforce the point. Many of you already know this, and I see and love you, but for anyone still ~undecided about their choice, should they be an American citizen of voting age on November 3, 2020:

Time to not be. It was time a long, long while ago, but I am going to have to say it again.

Primary season is over. The endless fine-tooth combing of candidates' policies and positions is over. We are all deeply well aware that the candidates on the Democratic ticket, being human beings and establishment politicians, are flawed. "BUT WHAT ABOUT THIS POSITION FROM 19/ 20-WHENEVER AS JUSTIFICATION FOR WHY IT'S TERRIBLE TO VOTE FOR -- "

No. Stop. Just stop. Stop threatening to hold the rest of us hostage, in the middle of a pandemic, the Great Depression, and racial inequality and protests on a scale not seen from the 1960s, because you did not get Barbie Dream Candidate. That is the behavior of terrorists and toddlers. If your supposedly enlightened morally pure ideology does not involve any action to mitigate the harm that is directly in front of you, it isn't worth a shit as an ideology actually devoted to helping people. If your approach to politics is to shout about how Pure your ideas are on twitter and tear down anyone working within a system of flawed choices to do the good that they can: you're not helping, and frankly, your constant threats to withhold your suffrage as a punishment to us aren't convincing the rest of us that we really need to listen to you or that you have anyone's best interests at heart. The Online Left TM is as much a vacuous, self-reinforcing noise chamber as the Online Right TM, and can sometimes tend to be even more dangerous.

I was saying this in 2016. A lot of us were saying this in 2016. I am just about to turn 32 years old and have been voting in federal elections for almost 15 years. For what it's worth.

This is not an ordinary election. This is not a contest between two flawed candidates who respect the system and want to work to enact their policies in the ordinary way. One is a flawed 90s era Democrat who nonetheless has already been pushed CONSIDERABLY left in his policies and platforms since the end of the primaries (and his existing platform would already make him the most left president elected, even more than Obama). The other is a fascist dictator who has openly spoken about refusing to accept the election results, his desire to abolish term limits and serve for life, and complete the pillaging of any remaining fragile American public funds for him and his cult of cronies. He does not respect the system. He does not want to do anything for anyone that is not himself. 160,000 and counting needless deaths of American citizens have already happened. Will keep happening.

This is the last time Trump has to face voters. This is the last chance the country has to repudiate his entire poisonous ideology and its marching Nazi minions. IF he steps aside, which is already far from guaranteed, he can ride off into the sunset as a vindicated two term president and probably be rehabilitated like George W. Bush was within a few years of leaving office. American political memory is very short. It will happen. Again, if he even leaves.

RBG is 87 and has cancer again. She will NOT survive another four years. Stephen Breyer is 81. Their seats could both come up in the next four years. The Supreme Court could be a right wing rubber stamp for whatever time we all have left before climate change and coronavirus kill us all.

"But if people just thought for themselves and did their homework and didn't vote the party line like sheep, we could support a third party/write in -- " Stop. Just stop. Attend a ninth grade civics class and learn about how politics work in America. Yes, the two-party system sucks. Yes, the Electoral College is a hot steaming pile of absolute bullshit. Magical unicorn fairy dust fantasies WILL NOT change that.

Do not vote for Kanye (who has pretty much openly admitted he is trying to play spoiler to Biden on behalf of his buddy Trump). Do not vote for godforsaken fucking Gary Johnson or Jill Stein who appear on ballots just to give sanctimonious leftists the illusion of virtue-signaling. If you want any chance of fixing the mess that 2020 has left America and the world in, you need to vote for Joe Biden and Kamala Harris. The end.

Biden is a flawed old man who was our last choice, sure. He is also a distinguished public servant who has already been in the White House for eight years under Obama and thus we KNOW what to expect. He is an empathetic man who connects with people's personal tragedy and picked as his running mate a younger Black/biracial woman who directly confronted and called him out on past behavior. While the pundit class was simpering and whining about how it was Disrespectful and how could he consider her, Biden did so, and that speaks well to me of the fact that he is willing to learn, to take criticism, and not just accept it from a former Black female rival, but make her his second in command and the potential first female president of the United States.

Can you EVER picture Trump doing that? Not in eight thousand million years.

As for Kamala, we are all aware of her previous checkered history as a prosecutor (and even then, she did plenty of good things as well!). Since joining the Senate, however, she has consistently become one of its most progressive members. She is the co-sponsor of an economic aid package designed to give every American $2,000/month, backdated to March (the start of the coronavirus pandemic) and continuing at least a few months after its end. A Biden-Harris White House could make that happen. Especially if they are put into office with a Democratic House and Senate (for the love of God, Kentucky, kill Mitch McConnell with fire). That is just one example.

Harris's nomination is obviously historic. And Biden didn't choose another Biden (or another Tim Kaine, the blandest white man imaginable). He chose another Obama: a younger rising star of an immigrant background, a person of color, a former lawyer and someone who represents the diversity of the country that the white supremacists and the Cheeto in Chief have tried to paint as its worst and most degenerate evil.

A vote for Biden and Harris means getting rid not just of Trump, but Mike Pence, Vladimir Putin, Jared Kushner, Betsy Devos, the Trump crony destroying the Postal Service, the rampant coronavirus misinformation and bullshit, the destruction of Social Security and Medicare, the spread of Nazi propaganda from the President's twitter account, the likely two Supreme Court picks that would be as bad as Brett Kavanaugh or worse... on and on. Biden and Harris would be elected by progressive voters and thus answerable to them in 2022 midterms and 2024 general. They can both be, and already have been, pushed further left. They are reasonable and competent adults who have demonstrated experience and compassion. I KNOW about their flaws and past actions I don't agree with. But I'm frankly done with any more counterproductive straw man bitching about This One Bad Thing They Did and how it makes it a terribad awful choice to vote for them. Open your eyes. Look at the alternative. LOOK AT WHAT HAS ALREADY HAPPENED AND THE FACT THAT THIS IS NOT EVEN AS BAD AS IT COULD STILL GET.

Check your registration or register at vote.gov.

DO NOT LOOK AT POLLS AND DECIDE "EH BIDEN IS CLEARLY GOING TO WIN, I DON'T NEED TO VOTE." THAT IS HOW WE LOST LAST TIME.

Unseating incumbents is HARD. It is even harder when the other side has openly laid out their plan to cheat in great detail, and there is nothing really stopping them from doing it. The only thing, in fact, is massive, unfalsifiable results on an undeniable scale.

So:

Vote.

Vote for Joe Biden and Kamala Harris.

Thanks a lot.

#hilary for ts #politics for ts #rant #long post #i will be reblogging this periodically as election day nears #haters/trolls will be blocked out of hand

[angstymarauder]

Arch Enemies {M.M}

Marlene McKinnon x Female!reader ; marauders era

summary: where two long-time rivals realize how thin the line between love and hate really are after an unfortunate quidditch incident.

word count: 3.4k ish

contains: angst, fluff, a heated kiss?, side of wolfstar,

a/n: i didn’t re-read it bc I'm lazy. Also if people could drop some wlw angsty harry potter recs that would be phenomenal.

· · · ∞ · · · · · · ∞ · · · · · · ∞ · · · · · · ∞ · · ·

Marlene McKinnon has been your rival since as far back in your Hogwarts years as you can remember. Always at each other’s heads. Always a competition between the two of you. Always striving to be better than the other.

The two of you made just about everything a competition. Chess Matches. Pranking. Grades. Eating. Walking. Detentions (you almost got kicked out of Hogwarts that year.)

Anything that could somehow be made competitive, you two competed. And while you tended to beat her with grades, she often beat you in things that took place outside of the classroom.

The Marauders, apparently, have been placing bets and keeping track of your wins against one another. Lily even claims that one time she walked into their room unexpectedly and caught them writing on a poster on their wall that had both your names in big letters on each side and a series of tallies below each with dates and event names on the bottom, but as soon as they saw her one of them casted a spell to make it disappear.

This year was no different. You knew it was stupid to believe that maybe, just maybe, you’d be able to try out for the quidditch team without Marlene fighting you for the same spot. You have no real desire to be on the quidditch team, quite honestly, but your older siblings play quidditch, your parents played quidditch, your aunts, your uncles, your cousins, your grandparents, your great-grandparents.

You have a quidditch family and you do not want to can not disappoint them.

The hope that Marlene may leave you alone for this one was shattered, as you expected it to be, when you walk into the team's locker room, a bag of quidditch gear in your hand. “Y/L” Marlene spoke as soon as her eyes met yours. Her eyes widened more than usual, a change most people don’t notice, but then again, you’re not most people. You know Marlene better than anyone else, you’ve memorized the meaning of every look in her eyes, every curve of her lips, every flick of her hands. You know her brain, how she works, what she is thinking, for the most part at least because right now you found yourself momentarily confused by the surprise lacing her voice. Why is she so surprised? Did she not expect you to be there? Your thoughts are cut short when the blonde standing at the other side of the room clears her throat in an attempt to reactive her favorite tone of voice when speaking to you, cockiness, “you going for the beater position too?”

“Yea,” you respond, walking over to one of the lockers.

“May the best player win,” you continued unpacking your bag, putting on the final touches to your uniform, but you didn’t need to look at her to know that she was smirking as she spoke, you could hear it clear enough in her voice.

She awaited a snarky response from you, you know that, but you didn’t want to waste your energy on a catfight right now. Your anxiety is already through the roof, there is enough pressure on you at the moment that you feel like your brain physically cannot handle any more conflict, so you ignore her.

Her eyes burn holes into your body as you continue to pull your knee pads on. Eventually, the door opens and you listen to her steps as she walks out of the locker room, closing the door with a slam and leaving you all alone.

It’s not long before you’re 100% ready for tryouts. You stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror for a moment before leaving. Taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm your nerves. Calm your mind. It helps a little bit, but maybe not enough.

· · · ∞ · · ·

“Y/L! Watch out!” is the last thing you hear before everything goes black.

The tryouts were going great, James was the captain this year and after stealing a glance at his little sheet, you could tell that you were going to beat Marlene out for this spot.

You should’ve been happier with that knowledge than you were, but somewhere deep down you almost wanted Marlene to beat you. This wasn't what you wanted and by the look in her eyes, you knew that this was what she wanted. A strange feeling arose in your chest each time she looked at you during tryouts, her eyes conveyed a message you hadn’t seen her wear yet and all you wanted to do was decode it. To understand why her eyes looked… sad? Almost. Like she knew you were going to beat her and she was upset about it. She’s never been upset before, always a team player. She took her losses as they came and just vowed to beat you next time. But for some reason… for some reason this was different.

· · · ∞ · · ·

Marlene’s Pov:

You looked so pretty. Flyaway hairs and a look of determination on your face as you swatted away Bludgers so effortlessly. She loved quidditch, but she wasn't as good as you. Jealous, not because you’ll win whatever competition the two of you are probably making out of this, but jealous because she knows she won’t get the position she’s been working her ass off for. Lost in thought she doesn't even notice the bludger coming towards her, luckily she hits it just in time, but then… Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Marlene watched as the bludger tumbled straight towards you, “Y/L! Watch out,” was all she could get in before it hit you right in the head.

· · · ∞ · · ·

The first thing you felt when you woke up was an intense pounding in your skill that caused an unconscious groan to leave your mouth. As you increasingly became aware your head began hurting more and more. You went to bring your hand up to rub your eyes in an attempt to wake yourself up when you felt another hand on yours. Opening your eyes only increased your headache, but the desire to know whose hand was holding yours overruled the pain. Their hand was soft, warm, it felt like … like home. That's the only word you could find in this pain-forsaken state to properly describe the feeling.

The blur of a person who held your hand made you think you were crazy. You found yourself blinking a few times in attempts to clear your vision, not initially trusting your eyes and barely trusting them now as you see Marlene McKinnon's hand, holding yours.

Marlene McKinnon.

Your arch-nemesis?

The one who practically hates you?

Yea… her.

What the fuck.

Why is she holding your hand… and why do you never want her to let go?

You can feel your lips curve up into an unconscious smile as you stare at the place where her hand connects with yours before roaming your eyes up to her figure to her sleeping face being held up by her other hand, elbow resting on her armchair next to your bed. She looks so peaceful, so beautiful, and you wonder why you’ve never noticed how gorgeous she was before. How her lips look so soft and her skin so smooth. The way the waning gibbous moonlight shines into the room from the large infirmary windows and lights her face up in a way you’ve never seen in before and in that moment you want nothing more than to stare at her face like that forever. You don’t even notice your other hand moving up to touch her face until you hear a voice whisper from a few beds over from yours. “Oh, you’re up.” Startled, you feel like you were just caught committing a crime and immediately pull your hand back to where it was before. Marlene shifts in her sleep from your quick movements and you’re watching this moment slip through your fingers, silently begging whatever runs the universe to let you stay in this moment just a little bit longer. Thankfully, they answer and Marlene stills, returning to her peaceful sleep. “Don’t worry, Lils says she sleeps like a log.”

You giggle at these words, turning to face Remus with a smile, “yea, she does. We can never get her up in the morning.” “It’s the same with Sirius. He never wants to wake up.” The two of you giggle quietly, afraid to wake up anyone in the castle this late at night, especially the girl sitting beside you. You talk about Remus first, asking if the full moon the night before was really that bad that Pomfrey made him stay overnight again and if he's okay. He assures you that he is fine and redirects the conversation to you, “What about you? Are you okay?”

“I don’t even know what happened to me,” you tell him, “or why my head hurts so much or why M-” you pause, now looking at the girl. You’re scared of speaking the words out loud, afraid it may reveal that her presence is only a dream or a figment of your imagination and that you will sound crazy if you speak about it.

“Or why Marlene is here, holding your hand.” Remus finishes your sentence.

“Or that.” you turn your gaze back to Remus, now wishing the moon was a little darker so your close friend can’t see the blush that is surely on your face.

“Well to answer your first questions,” started Remus, “You got hit with a bludger during tryouts, Marlene and Sirius rushed u in here while I was taking a nap - thanks for that by the way”

“Sorry” you giggled

“- and then Sirius went back to practice, as for McKinnon there, she refused to leave. I think she feels bad cause she's the one that hit you. Pomfrey said you probably have a concussion which means you can’t … well you can’t play quidditch this year.” You should be focusing on the quidditch part, it was something you were working so hard for, but you can’t stop your mind from trailing off to her. Is she only here because she feels bad? Or is there more to it? You hope it's more. You’re not sure when these feelings came to fruition, but they’re there now and you’re worried about getting your hopes up because it means risking yourself getting let down.

“I think she likes you,” you take a minute to process the werewolves' words, glancing between the blonde’s head and her hand.

“You think so?” you say with a hopeful smile.

“I think she’s liked you since first year and you’re just too oblivious to realize it,” you look up with him, your confused face causing a slight chuckle to leave his lips, “I’m observant, you know that but it's not that difficult to see how in love you two are, even though you act like you hate each other. I think she knows what she feels,” you both glanced at the girl, “and I think you just figured out what you feel.”

You smile at his words. “I think you’re right,” you admit, too tired to be stubborn and reject what your heart says is a fact.

“Just wait till January to tell everyone please, I have a bet going with the boys and- “ Suddenly the door to the infirmary opens, Remus goes quiet with confusion and Marlen begins to stir from the noise. She’s really waking up this time, you immediately close your eyes, unsure of what else to do or even say to her. You can feel her eyes on your face, her hand holding yours. “Good morning sleepyhead,” remarked Remus. You curse out his name in your head as you feel Marlene’s hand immediately rip out of yours. All you want to do is look at her face, read her mind. Was she embarrassed? Ashamed? Your mind went to the worst.

“How’s the girlfriend?” marked a new voice, Sirius. Of course. Who else would come to the infirmary this late other than Sirius to check up on Remus?

“She’s not my girlfriend.” remarked Marlene, her tone sending a brief stab of pain through your own heart, “I don’t even like her,” another stab.

“Yea, okay, and Moonys not my werewolf boyfriend.” You would’ve laughed, hearing the noises of Remus hitting Sirius in response to his words, but your mind was stuck on the words of the girl who was still standing close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off her body.

“I don’t like her,” she said, her words laced with annoyance and anger, “In fact, I hate her. We’re literally enemies.”

“Then why are you here then?” Remus rebutted, he probably meant to be helpful, but the words she spoke next only made your heart ache more.

“Because I’m not a monster! I hit her with the bludger and I felt bad. That’s it. Nothing else.” you were almost thankful when you started to hear her moving around, collecting her stuff, tears were threatening to spill out of your eyes and you didn’t want her to see. “I’m tired so I’m going, goodbye.” And with that you waited, listening to the sounds of her footsteps, getting quieter with each moment. You listened to the opening and closing of the infirmary door and only dared to open your eyes again once you could no longer hear the clicking of her shoes down the hallway.

“You okay?” Remus spoke first, witnessing the silent tears now streaming down your face. You wish you stayed asleep. You wish you never looked at her. Never let yourself feel something you knew she wouldn’t reciprocate. You curse yourself for believing Remus’ hopeful words.

“Fine,” you spoke quietly before turning to your side, the back facing the two boys who get to share the kind of romance you find yourself only able to dream about.

“M’Sorry,” you heard Remus whisper, before the weight of your head and your heart lulled you into a dreamless sleep.

· · · ∞ · · ·

You woke up to Madam Pomfrey's voice urging you awake. Her soft voice reminded you of your mother and made you want to curl up into her arms and cry, Marlene's words last night still resting their weight on your chest. “How are you this morning, love?” she asks, placing a plate of food on the bedside table, you're thankful that she doesn't mention the tear stains that probably made their home on your cheeks last night.

“M’fine,” you mumble, “better.”

“Good, good,” she smiles, handing you a glass of water that you didn’t realize how much you needed until the whole glass was gone in a minute and Madam Pomfrey had to fetch you a new one. “Took a big hit yesterday, that Miss McKinnon has a good arm.” You hum in agreeance, an attempt to not be rude to the elder in front of you, but hearing her name still hurts, the wound of her words still leaving scars on your heart that haven’t even begun to scab. “Speaking of the devil,” the nurse spoke, your head raising up to see Marlene's figure entering the curtain that surrounded your bed. Her hair looked so soft, messier than you usually see it, but you liked it. You couldn’t stop your eyes from travelling down her face, taking in her beauty while she was awake. Bags plagued her beautiful brown eyes, she didn't sleep much last night. Your gaze moved to her lips, the same lips that unknowingly cut scars along your heart mere hours ago. Memories from the night before that you had allowed yourself to forget for a moment returned as fast as they left, returning the heartache that accompanies them. Suddenly, you found the hem of your shirt more interesting, keeping your gaze and your hands on that. “I’ll leave you two alone,” spoke Madam Pomfrey, ignoring the tension-filled silence that laid in the air, “I’d like to keep you here for a little while longer but you should be discharged by dinner,” and with that she left the two of you alone, your breaking heart not even strong enough to look at her.

“Hey,” she spoke first, breaking the silence, but not moving from her spot where she stood at the end of your bed. “Sorry I hit you with a bludger,” she tried to joke, but the tension was too thick that it was just awkward.

“Why are you here?” you ask, a sudden surge of bravery coming from the anger that stems from your sadness.

“Wh-What?”

“Why are you here?” “Because I feel bad? Because I'm not a total bitch and I care about you?” she remarks.

“Why do you care?” your voice grows louder, angrier than you want it, but you’re too stubborn to stop speaking now. “I can’t play anymore, you got the spot on the team, didn’t you? “I mean you said it yourself we’re enemies, right? You hate me?” you continue, repeating her words from last night. “So isn’t this what you wanted? You won. You beat me. Congratulations.”

“So you were eavesdropping?” she asks, her tone attempting to stay angry, but her eyes revealing that look you’re slowly seeing more and more often.

“It’s not eavesdropping if I’m lying right there.”

“Merlin, y/n, I don’t hate you!”

“Liar.”

“You’re so stubborn,” she yells, getting closer to your face.

“If you don’t hate me then why would you say it?” You sat up, both your voices were raising, anger surging through the air.

“Because I don’t hate you! I love you,” she yelled, and then everything went quiet. She loves me? Only now did you realize how close your faces were. Her lips were inches from yours, your ragged breaths intermingled with one another, both of you already exhausted from your previous argument. You looked up from her lips to her eyes, just to find them already staring into yours.

“You what?” you whispered so low that only she could hear it.

“ I-” her eyes were filled with fear. Fear that her feelings won’t be reciprocated. Fear to express the vulnerable emotion that has plagued her heart for how long? You don’t know. So you move forward and capture her lips in yours.

After the initial surprise, Marlene began to kiss you back, her hands finding the back of your neck and your head while yours found her hips. You broke apart too soon for your liking and she rested her forehead on yours. One of your hands moved to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear before speaking. “I love you too.” You watched as her eyes lit up with joy and you couldn’t help but smile. “I get a point on the leaderboard for admitting it first,” she chuckled.

“Mmhm,” you hummed in agreeance leaning forward again so your lips brushed against hers as you spoke, “but I get one for kissing you first.”

“Dammit,” she whispered, before leaning in for another kiss.

· · · ∞ · · ·

“So Gryffindor Beater, huh?” you asked Marlene. The two of you laid together in the infirmary bed, her back pressed up against half of your chest, your arm hanging around her shoulder twirling and untwirling her hair with your one hand while both her hands played with the fingers of your other.

“Yea, James said it’s mine if I want it, but I don’t need to take it if you don’t want me to.”

“No, merlin no,” you said quickly, “I know how much you want that spot, I barely even wanted it. Was only doing it because with my family I felt like I had to.”

“Really?” She looked up at you hopefully, “you don't mind.”

“Nope.” “Promise?”

“Promise.” She gave her a peck on the lips before turning her head around again. “Plus, you’re going to look so hot in that uniform, I feel like I’ll be the real winner in this situation.” Your words earn a loud laugh from the girl in your arms and you feel like you're on cloud 9. You place a quick kiss on her temple and want nothing more than to be the one to make her laugh for the rest of your lives. Lives that you hopefully get to spend together.

Meanwhile…

“Told you so,” he whispered.

“I should’ve kept my mouth shut,” the second boy groaned, placing coins into the other boy's outstretched hand.

“Yea, but look how cute they are, Moony the Matchmaker.”

“Oh shut up Padfoot,” he groaned, “I’m hungry, let's go to dinner.” “Whatever you say handsome,” barked the boy before looping arms with his lover and walking away from the two girls in the infirmary who looked utterly and completely infatuated with one another.

#marlene mckinnon #marlene mckinnon x reader #wlw #marlene x dorcas #marlene x mary #marauders #marlene mckinnon angst #angst #one shot #gryffindor #sirius x reader #marlene x y/n #ginny x luna #harry potter #pansy x hermione #luna x ginny #linny #pansmionie #i cant write #my drawing #requests r open ig #madam pomfrey is bae #james potter

[out-of-this-dimension]

Hypothetically Rewriting Assault’s Story + Some General Assault Opinions

There’s a game my husband and I like to play when we watch a movie, play a game, or read a book that has a story that we don’t really enjoy or we enjoy certain parts of but not others.  We look at things we’d keep and things we’d change and we build a story from there-- sort of like an AU but we don’t really go into the writing part, we just stick to theorizing and mapping a general story.

I decided to play that game with Star Fox.  Not because I think Star Fox has a bad story but because sometimes I think the stories could have been handled better.  Note: for the rewrite game, I only really look at story, even for video games, I don’t really look at gameplay mechanics, but I do understand those have a lot to do with story potential so I do take it in as a factor... I just don’t bother to “rewrite” the mechanics, if that makes any sense at all.  Some of my list today will include boss encounters but I wouldn’t necessarily say those are mechanic-related... more like “event-related”.

I’ve mused a bit in the past about rewriting Adventures and Command and I do have plans to do a mock up of an Adventures remake eventually.  However, today I was thinking about how I would go about handling an Assault re-write in particular.  Much like Command and Adventures, I don’t have any beef with the core story but I do think there’s a few things that could’ve been better about Assault’s storyline-- like they had good ideas rolling but they didn’t quite refine them.

Under the cut because SUPER long.

My basic feelings on Assault are pretty positive.  I think the game is generally just fun and I like that it feels like the natural progression from SF64.  I liked getting to see planets we haven’t seen since the N64 era in better graphics and I liked seeing Star Wolf return.  I also just thought the aparoids were neat enemies. 

Generally speaking, though, when it comes to Assault, I think it suffers from the thing it tries to push the most-- the story.  I think a lot of people get caught up in thinking the story is better than it is because it’s the first game since SF64 that really follows the same Star Fox vibe without retelling the Lylat Wars.  Don’t get me wrong, the overall plot is great but the execution and pacing are... wonky.  Certain characterizations also take a hit in some regards but no one really talks about that when Command exists. That’s something we’ll talk about later on with this post.

That being said, Assault really does have a lot good going for it.  An absolute banger of a soundtrack, some great dialogue, a neat story synopsis, the introduction of cool characters like Panther and Beltino (who existed but was always off-screen), and just good levels.  

So, here’s what I would add, I suppose, if I were to somehow have the ability to rewrite Assault.  Originally I had this in paragraph form, but I’ve made it into more of a list under topic segments with main points bolded for your viewing pleasure.  Some of these points might be considered nitpicky and while I do understand that yes, this is a game about space animals, I do hold the developers in high enough regard to make a game with a continuity that makes sense.

The Story Changes

- Reduce Pigma’s storyline in Assault.  This is the biggest one for me because a bulk of the plotline feels like a giant chase to just get at Pigma and it feels like it derails from the actual plot with the aparoids.  We only go to Sargasso because of Pigma.  We only go to Fichina and then back to Meteo again, because of Pigma.  That’s 3 levels in a 10 level game devoted to just tracking down Pigma and chasing him.  While it makes the build up to fighting Pigma kind of nice, I personally feel like the plot could be reduced to 2 levels.  If Assault overall was a longer game, I could see them making it 3 levels.  Overall, though, in its current state, I feel like the side plot overstays its welcome and the aparoids promptly get shoved to the side in favor of “Oh no, we gotta get to Pigma!” And I get the main motive here is to show how the aparoids affect people and because of the build up, it does a good job at showing how utterly terrifying the aparoids are.  But it’s still too long given the length of Assault’s story. The only alternative to this is make Assault longer, which... honestly, it should be.  

- Revise the scene with Tricky.  I’m obviously not well-versed in dinosaur biology but I’m pretty sure dinos didn’t grow that fast from what studying I HAVE done.  And why is he suddenly king now?  Did his parents die?  He seems not affected by this at all?  Like it’s a funny scene with him, Fox, and Krystal, but it’s odd if you really look at it.  Give us, as players, more context because I’m still not even sure what happened to make Tricky suddenly the leader and... big.  As a note, you’re gonna hear me gripe a lot about the Sauria level in this post.

- The Star Wolf + Peppy sacrifice is a low effort way to raise tension/stakes and then cop out.  Oldest trick in the book, imo, is to act like you’re going to kill off important characters only for them to be alive miraculously.  And let’s face it, as an audience we all know they aren’t going to kill those characters because it’s Nintendo and those characters are too beloved.  I would’ve forgiven them for only doing this with Peppy or Star Wolf, but when you tack them both together and throw in the fact they make it seem like you’re going to have to kill General Pepper too... yeah, it’s just a bit much of the same trope over and over again.  I wanted to put a note in here about how I’m fine with the Great Fox being “sacrificed” but overall, it needed to return to the series because of it’s icon status, but I think that’s more of a gripe at Command instead of Assault.

- Keep Pigma alive.  This will conflict with a point I have later on about the game consistently having characters cheat death for easy drama points but with Pigma, I would’ve kept him fully alive... but maybe with some physical damage from the aparoids.  I understand he’s semi-alive in Command and tbh I don’t know where I stand on that.  Why keep Pigma alive, you might ask?  I feel like his character has a lot more potential than being “just the greedy guy”.  Like he’s got good potential future villain material for future games and... if I’m honest?  I just don’t see Nintendo wanting to keep Pigma dead so why even bother killing him off?  They couldn’t even commit to him being dead in Command anyways so it seems very moot.

- Bring Bill and Katt back.  Assault is acts a bit like a big reunion of all of our SF64 favorites but our two favorite side characters are suspiciously missing.  Wouldn’t Bill be out on the front lines fighting against Andrew in the beginning?  Or maybe back in Katina?  And wouldn’t Katt inevitably show up in the midst of the invasion, maybe to pointedly check in on Falco?

- Bring Andrew back for the final fight. I think Andrew being defeated early into the game is fine overall but I think bringing him back in for a reunion final fight against the aparoids would serve to really solidify that it’s really everyone vs the invading aparoid force.  It would show that not only is Star Wolf willing to put aside their differences but so is basically everyone in the Lylat System in the name of survival.  Imagine the Venomians and Cornerians working together against an aparoid fleet, giving Star Fox and Star Wolf time to attack the queen?  I just think it’d be neat and it’d open up the potential for some fun banter mid-mission.  I do understand that quite a few people consider Andrew canonically dead after Assault but personally, I feel that his defeat left his fate questionable (I’m a staunch believer that unless there’s a body, they’re probably alive, especially for Nintendo games because, again, they never like to kill people off) so him returning in Command never really bothered me.  

- In general, reconsider some of the character portrayals.  Unfortunately, when a series has a different studio for each game, character portrayals will inevitably have inconsistencies.  While I give Namco a lot of credit for putting in oodles and oodles of detail into the game (particularly the levels), I think they failed in their portrayal of Fox, at the least, and Wolf is a considerable offender as well.  While it’s obvious that Fox in Adventures was effectively modeled off of Sabre even in terms of personality, Rareware was at least able to justify Fox’s newfound jaded attitude with the passing of many years and a distinct lack of steady income, resulting in the team being in disarray.  Assault’s Fox is a stark contrast to his cynical interpretation with seemingly no explanation other than maybe “Oh, I have more money and a gf, maybe I should behave myself”.  As if the sudden change in personality wasn’t random, Fox also just seems very blah, like a blank slate stereotypical shooter game protagonist dude with little to no emotion.  Wolf is less obvious but gets slated into a mentor-like role midway through the game and ends up in a respectful rivalry with Fox... which there’s nothing inherently wrong with that except for it happening abruptly (and, I mean, Peppy is right there).  But I take less issue with this and more of an issue with the fact that there’s an entire level establishing that Wolf now runs a crime den with effectively what seems to be an army and no one bats an eye at this.  He doesn’t even call on them to help with the aparoids.  Did they all die when the aparoids attacked Meteo?  Are they safe somewhere else?  Where do they go?  How was Sargasso able to operate without the CDF being on their doorstep with warrants for arrests?

- Don’t kill all the dinosaurs.  A bit of a dramatic statement but the ending screen that showed all the damage to Sauria really bothered me.  While I understand that the dinosaurs had less of a chance against the aparoids than a more technology-focused society like Corneria, I was a bit disappointed that the decision was made to just state that a lot of tribes had been wiped out.  I know this could easily be retconned in a future game and I feel like it should be.  “But why, Amalia?  Why are you disappointed by that?”  1) It’s a little too grimdark for my tastes.  2) The fact it all happened off-screen felt very hand-wavy.  And 3) It brings into question the entire point of Adventures.  Why did we bother to save this planet if it was going to be reduced to rubble and ash 1 year later?  Where were the Krazoa in all of this?  Why did they not make an appearance at all to try to stop the invasion with their alleged powers?  It just raises too many weird questions and I feel like Namco didn’t think it through too much.  Which I mean, sure.  Family, kiddo game.  I’m not asking for bigbrain plot and lore but I’m squinting at this bit because it does feel very contrary to the lore from the previous game.

- Make the aparoids more relevant.  As nice as it is to have a random bad guy from another galaxy, I feel like there was more that could be done with the aparoids in terms of their origins.  Tiny things, mind you, not huge revelations.  Off the top of my head, they could have been tied into Krystal’s backstory to help alleviate some of the complaints that she was too random to be added to the series’ main cast.  Alternatively, they could have been a product of Andross or even a weapon prototype from Corneria that fled the lab (I actually thought the game was leaning in that direction for a bit then just Nothing Happened).  I get that the vagueness of their origins leaves room for people to speculate and speculation is nice but... when you leave too many things unknown, it starts to feel less like giving fans room to interpret and more like just doing random things for the sake of it.  I think a lore tidbit here or there would work wonders for the aparoids instead of leaving them as just borg/zerg clones.

Level-Based Changes

- Add either Aparoid RedEye or Aparoid General Scales as a boss to Sauria.  Given that this level mysteriously lacks a boss, which is just weird compared to the other levels, I think that they had the opportunity to add something cool to go along with the cinematic feel they were going for with Assault.  Assault’s cutscenes do play in a movie-like fashion and it’s clear they’re trying to make the game as epic as possible.  It’s a shame they had so much fodder for a great boss here but they failed to go through with it.  Alternatively: Add a Krazoa-Aparoid fusion.  Why?  Because Star Fox is about cool epic sci-fi and that would be cool epic sci-fi incarnate.

- Add a boss to the Aparoid Homeworld Level, aka the penultimate level.  Another one I felt was personally weird that there was no “final defense system” to challenge the team.  Would be cool to do an aerial battle over the aparoid planet with some giant flying aparoid.

- Be kinder to Sauria.  The level had some good homages but overall was incredibly small and incredibly short.  It felt like a bone tossed to Adventures fans but was not entirely true to the setting built by Rareware.  I’m... not even sure where the Sauria level is supposed to take place?  I presume it’s Walled City but it doesn’t really have the same color scheme or aesthetic?  Also where is my revised Adventures music?  Why do all the other levels get it but Sauria doesn’t? 

- Put some of those funky items from the multiplayer into the main campaign.  I don’t know why some of these things, items especially, were omitted unless it was purely due to time constraints.  I remember having missile launchers and jetpacks in the multiplayer and was a bit sad that they were not in the main campaign.  Retuning the levels and adding those in would be a nice breath of fresh air for the more tedious on-foot missions.

- More levels.  Self-explanatory.  Still sad we didn’t get the Zoness or Titania levels in the single-player mode.  

I think all of the above changes would improve the game, though I recognize all of this is being said 16 years later after lots of time to contemplate Assault’s weaker points.  I’m not entirely certain how long Star Fox Assault took to develop but given that there’s obviously quite a bit scrapped from the game (an entire arcade mode was scrapped as well), I’m going to assume that the studio felt pressured to shove the game out the door and into the hands of customers.  It’s a shame, really, because I think a little bit longer in the oven would have done a lot of good.  Still, the product we got was good in its own right and a game that many people look back on fondly.  I haven’t gotten to replay it in years but I hope to quite soon.

You might wonder why I bothered typing this all out and I guess my point was this-- Assault was great but it wasn’t perfect, and while a lot of other games fall under a crushing amount of scrutiny, Assault seems to dodge it.  And don’t get me wrong-- I adore Assault.  But given that not many takes exist out there about rewriting it, I decided to give it a shot.  For variety’s sake.  

I do want to a mock up of a revised Assault story, which I think I will get to work on after completing this while all my ideas are still fresh in mind.  So stay tuned for that sometime in the near future.  I will also be doing my Adventures mock up at some point but probably not for a little bit as I do wanna focus some of my free time on actual fic-writing.

Anyways, if you stuck around this long, thank you for reading!  Have any changes you’d like to see to Assault if you could time machine your way back to the early 2000s?  Feel free to post in the comments, I’d love to read your ideas!

#star fox assault #starfox assault #super long #queue'd

[holycatsandrabbits]

Tollense, an original serial romance by Dannye Chase, Chapter 3

A history professor falls in love with his best friend, a 3000-year-old vampire.

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Chapter 3

1996 (Three years later)

Liam got a letter in the mail that morning, another one, from New York this time. Liam didn’t know anyone in New York who would send this kind of letter. In any case, they were all from the same person, no matter the constantly changing postmark, and they all said the same hateful, frightening things.

Liam had just tossed this one into the drawer with the others when Kurt appeared out of nowhere, as only he could. Liam had done a bit of research on vampires in the three years he’d known Kurt (as much study as he could on something that was supposed to be fictional), and teleportation was not a common vampire ability. But then Kurt was not a common vampire.

“Morning,” Kurt said, dropping into a kitchen chair. He looked a bit bed-rumpled, but Liam honestly wasn’t sure whether it was because Kurt had been sleeping or because Kurt thought that humans should look bed-rumpled in the morning. “Been for your run yet?” Kurt asked.

“I was just getting ready to go.”

“Want company?”

“You’re not dressed for it,” Liam pointed out, waving a hand at Kurt’s blue jeans, and that caused Kurt to vanish again. Liam was lacing his shoes when Kurt reappeared, this time wearing athletic shorts and, crucially, no shirt. Liam’s fingers tripped over themselves and got tangled in his shoelaces like clumsy people with jump ropes.

Liam had seen Kurt without his shirt on occasionally over the last three years, most memorably when Kurt had shown Liam the scars he still carried from the earliest thing he remembered— a Bronze Age battle. There was a scar above his heart and two on his left shoulder, the marks of flint arrowheads, presumably the wounds that caused his death.

But that was not what caught Liam’s attention when Kurt was shirtless. Kurt had the build of a fighter: a slender waist, sturdy legs, broad shoulders and strong arms. His chest was smoothly muscled around the scars. Meanwhile Liam had the body of a thirty-year-old history professor who went for a run most mornings, but also had a fondness for rocky road ice cream.

Liam wasn’t sure if Kurt knew about the threatening letters. He was also not sure if Kurt knew how fervently Liam desired him. If he was aware of either, or, most importantly, felt any desire in return, he had never said. And while Liam was sorting out the shoelace mess, Kurt pulled on a shirt, so the distraction passed.

The morning was cool, with fog still gathering around the trees. While they ran, Kurt told Liam about a morning in 1914 outside of Ypres, when snow had fallen silently, covering fallen leaves and fallen soldiers alike.

Liam had learned by now that Kurt did not feel the cold. It must have been obvious during a winter campaign, when Kurt’s fingers did not stiffen with frostbite, or his toes blister with trench foot. Sometimes, Kurt had told him, his fellow soldiers thought of him as an indestructible good luck charm. Sometimes they looked on the only member of their group to emerge from a battle unscathed and called him a demon.

A countless number of Kurt’s stories ended with him holding a fellow soldier as he succumbed to injury and passed out of this world.

When they turned back onto Liam’s street, there was a blue car in Liam’s driveway that belonged to one of Liam’s students, Martina. She was standing beside the car, waving at them. Of course, she wasn’t there to see Liam.

When Liam got out of the shower fifteen minutes later, he was surprised to see Kurt in the kitchen alone, drinking the coffee that Liam kept on hand for him. Coffee and water were the only things Liam had ever seen Kurt eat or drink. “Martina didn’t stay?” Liam asked.

“No. She was just returning my jacket.” Kurt looked melancholy for a moment, a brief flash across his features before it faded back into his usual somewhat detached expression. “She met someone else. He’s moving in.”

Liam looked at him in shock. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

Kurt shook his head. “I’m happy for her. She’s about to graduate anyway, so we were going to break it off.”

Martina was not the first of Liam’s students that Kurt had dated. Kurt was very good about it, really. The students he chose were from the graduate program, so all in their mid-twenties or older, and they’d all known what Kurt was. They’d chosen to be a part of his life for a while, providing him with companionship, and, though they didn’t usually state it so plainly, with blood.

“I don’t get attached,” Kurt said. “And I pick those who won’t get attached to me. I don’t have the patience for a line of angry exes. Better to be with those who will part as friends.”

“Have you ever been wrong?” Liam asked. He didn’t look at Kurt, carefully focusing on the toaster and butter dish.

“Accidentally broken someone’s heart, you mean?” Kurt asked. “Or lost my own?”

“Either.”

“Not in a long time.”

“Ah.” Liam buttered his toast with perhaps more force than was called for.

“I investigated him, though. Martina’s new boyfriend. His name is Devon.”

“Investigated,” Liam repeated. He sat down at the table opposite Kurt, accepting the cup of coffee Kurt passed to him.

“He seems like a very nice man. And he loves her.”

“So you read his mind.”

“I can’t read minds.”

“I’m not sure I believe you.”

Kurt looked amused. “I know. But not because I read your mind. In any case, Martina is my friend. She’s under my protection. And so are you.”

This last part was said gently, but Liam caught its meaning as overtly as he was meant to. He let out a groan and pushed away what was left of his toast. “How long have you known?”

“Long enough. The letters are mailed from around the country, but I am almost certain the sender is local. He probably travels a lot, and also has other people mail the letters without knowing what’s in them.”

“That’s what the police think. They also think they’re not serious.”

Kurt seemed immensely unimpressed by this opinion. “So did you do something that some bastard holds a grudge for? Murder his wife? Steal his parking space? Or do you think it’s because you’re gay?”

Liam’s sexuality was not something that had come up in conversation before, so Liam was a bit startled to hear it accurately described. “I have no idea,” he said. “I certainly don’t recall murdering anyone.”

“I’ve looked over the letters. No fingerprints, and I can’t find anything distinctive about the printer he uses.” When Kurt got emotional, he wore it strangely, as if he could be both agitated and unaffected at the same time. Right now his green eyes were bright and his mouth tight. His fingers curled sharply around his coffee cup, blanching white where they gripped too hard. But the rest of his body was still relaxed in the chair, stretched into the sort of lazy pretzel shape that sore legs often took after a run. Liam sometimes wondered what Kurt would be like if he stopped trying so hard to seem human.

“They’re not serious,” Liam told him.

“I’m not convinced of that. You really don’t have suspects?”

Liam shrugged. “Nobody in particular.”

“Ex-lovers?”

Liam focused on his coffee. “I haven’t had one of those for some time.”

“Family?”

“It’s just my sister and me, and we get along fine as long as she can pretend I’m not gay.”

Kurt’s fingers clenched around the coffee cup again. “This is a very intolerant period of history.”

Liam laughed, not unkindly. “It is all history to you, isn’t it? This is just another era to walk through. How odd to—”

“Stop trying to change the subject. Colleagues?”

“I’ve never had any problems. Anyway, the letters are all anti-university. Anti-technology. Unabomber-type stuff.”

“I’m not sure I trust the subject matter. Why send anti-technology missives to a history professor? It still feels personal to me. The one you got today talks about kidnapping you, Liam. That’s a very intimate threat.”

Liam groaned. “How the hell—”

“I read it while you were in the shower.” Kurt did look a little regretful, at least. “Look, I know you don’t like me being all— the way I am—”

“If I minded the vampire stuff, I’d never have agreed to work with you. What I object to is your being sneaky and intrusive on an entirely human level.”

Kurt seemed surprised, which was not a common look on him. He stared at Liam for a moment before saying, “Well, I object to being kept in the dark about your safety.”

“Kurt—”

They were interrupted by the ding noise that Liam’s computer made when he received an email. Normally Liam might ignore it, but at the moment, he welcomed the distraction.

The email was from a colleague in Germany, and as Liam read it, he forgot all about their argument. “Kurt,” he said, in an entirely different tone than the one he’d just used. Kurt was behind him in an instant, moving with that silent speed he had.

Liam traced his finger across the screen, aware that he wasn’t supposed to do that, but he hadn’t quite yet learned not to treat emails like they were pieces of paper. “Look at this. Someone found an arm bone with a flint arrowhead in the bank of the Tollense River in Germany. It’s not— it’s not a giant battle, not yet, just with one body, but it’s the right place, the right time. My colleague thinks this could be what we were looking for, and I think he’s right. Your earliest memory. Your origin. It could be Tollense.”

Kurt had knelt down so that he could read the screen more easily. When he turned his head it brought his mouth so very close to Liam’s. “You did it,” he said softly. “You found it.”

“Well, I didn’t find anything. Someone else—”

“But you put your neck on the line, theorizing about a battle in a time and place no one expected.”

“It’s not like I don’t have eye-witness evidence.”

“But no one knows that. You’ve endured a lot of controversy, trying to help me.”

“Oh, I don’t care about that. I care about—” Liam cut himself off before he could say it.

Kurt seemed to hear it anyway, because he leaned forward and pressed his mouth against Liam’s.

It was a light kiss only for a few seconds, until Liam made an intensely hungry noise and Kurt responded to it, bringing his hands up around Liam’s face to hold him steady. Kurt deepened the kiss, sweeping into Liam’s open mouth with his tongue.

Liam had thought about a kiss like this, thorough and overwhelming, fantasized about it, wondered if it might happen someday because Kurt would read his mind and know how much Liam wanted it. But Liam was suddenly sure in that moment that Kurt could not read minds, or at least, that he’d left Liam’s to its secrets. If he had read it, he would have known not to kiss Liam. Because unlike the students Kurt sought out, Liam was already attached, far too much, to this utterly alien man who kissed with a technique undoubtedly honed over millennia, ranging from soft to strong all in a single lick of his tongue, instinctively knowing which parts of Liam’s mouth were most sensitive, and all with a kindness Liam had never before felt.

It was the kindness that made Liam put his hands up and push Kurt gently away. Liam didn’t want kindness at that moment, didn’t want Kurt offering this kiss out of gratitude or friendship, or because Kurt knew Liam was attracted to men and would probably enjoy it. Even because he was worried about Liam’s safety. Kurt was three thousand years old, and he’d no doubt live for many thousands of years after this. Liam’s lifespan was a drop of water in the river of Kurt’s life. Kurt had said it just this morning— he would never allow himself to get attached.

After the kiss broke, Kurt looked at Liam searchingly for a moment, and then moved away.

“We should— we should visit Germany,” Liam managed to say. Kurt just nodded.

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

The battle of Tollense is a real thing! Here is the wikipedia and another article.

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

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My previous serials are for Good Omens: Mr. Fell's Bookshop and Love's Endless Light

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#Dannye writes #original fiction #serial fiction #tollense #vampires #romance

[h0neyjaehyun]

☁︎ 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 ☁︎

Summary // Tali's period decided to pay a visit and everyone now gets to see what some girls go through.

Characters // Talia Flores + Nct 127 + Nct Dream (Except : Jaemin Mentions: Her mother)

Era / Year // November 2017

Word Count //

⚠️Warning⚠️ // Periods??

As many people do, people go through puberty, and Talia is no different. As most people call it, she pulled a Jungkook on us. She also had her period, the boys were ready for it and everything, but she never really showed signs she was on her period.

She got her period when she was 13 years old, and has it every 3 -4 months. She is irregular, but usually in that span she would get it, unless she is on a diet that is quiet dangerous then no period at all. When she does have her period the side effects she has is cramps, headache, nausea, and last but not least mood swings her mood swings are more emtional, like she cries more easily. Talia is one to be able to control her mood so mood swings she is able to hide pretty well but sometimes she slips up.

During the trainee days the boys didn't really care about her period, thats until they started living with her remember oh yeah, periods.

They don't ask, and she doesn't say, why? Cause she feels awkward asking them for stuff like pads, or ibuprofen etc. So she asks her personal manager or one of the girls from Blackpink.

Thats when one day, her period decided, hey...you gonna be in pain.

Tali woke up to pain on her stomach and head, she groan out in pain knowing, today is gonna be a long day. She went to the bathroom and got tampons and ibuprofen, she sat on the ground for a second so the pill can work, she sighed in relief when it started working but knowing her body its gonna come back up in a couple hours maybe even minutes. She got up and saw all of dream preparing breakfast.

"Hey sleepy head, you woke up late, when did you sleep." Jaemin nagged at her.

"Hmm, I don't remember but Im still tired." She mumbled as she sat next to Jeno and layed her head on his shoulder.

They all looked her worried, she seemed more tired then usual.

"EVERYONE!"

Everyone turned to the door and they saw Mark at the door they all looked at him confused.

"Lets go, we are gonna be late to the recording."

He hurried them. Talia's face filled with annoyance but reminded herself, do not take it out on them, do not take it out on them, they are just reminding you just go change. She chanted to herself, as she went to her room. Mark noticed her tiredness, but decided it was nothing.

She changed, brung her stuff for her period and a brown bag, as she feels like since her pain is this bad, nausea is bound to happen which equals throwing up. She left her room and everyone was there and they left, she texted her personal manager say she has her period, but she might have to canceled the recording session since its bad.

She remembered that Karma said she went on birth control to stop her period and she thought about it but thought...no I can handle it...boy was she wrong today.

They got in the car and she could feel her pain comeback its just has been 30 minutes maybe a little more, and in the car out of all times she thought. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath trying not to groan in pain.

They got to the company building as she was about to step down a sharp pain hit her abdomen, she yelped in pain and she she squeezed the door handle.

"Noona you okay?" Jeno asked as he was right behind and saw nothing could have hit her.

"Yeah I just...hit my finger on the door." She made a quick excuse. But the boys were not buying it, but they let it go. They walked in the building and went to the studio.

She sat down in silence as the boys were eyeing her. They knew about her period she just never shows it, so they don't know whats wrong.

"Lets start guys, who is gonna go first?" One of the producers asked mostly looking at Tali but she shook her head no, he got the hint and went on to Haechan. The boys saw the interaction, and now wondering whats wrong.

Tali moved up to the seat next to the producer. He whispered.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I just got it today, and its a bad one...you got a water?" She asked him and he knew what she meant. He grabbed a water and handed it to her.

"So thats why you canceled the recording?" Tali nodded

"Yeah, I took ibuprofen 30 minutes ago and my pain has comeback so I'm gonna take another one."

He nodded, she grabbed her pills thinking no one was looking, as it seems the boys were looking at their lines, but in reality they were all looking at her.

They were worried and then when she got pills out of her bag, they were even more worried. She took them and put them bag quickly. They were confused. They saw her lean back and sigh with relief.

"You wanna go next?"

"Yeah, while this pill is working." She whispered, she got up went in the studio and smiled at Haechan but when she got in return was a worried look.

"Whats wrong?" She said to him.

"I should be asking you that, are you sure you hit your hand on the door or are you in pain somewhere else,Noona don't lie to me." Haechan warned, since Talia is not a big lier but when it comes to her health and pain she does.

"I'll be fine, okay, if I can live a day of dieting I can live through pain, don't worry yourself. Im a grown woman." She shook her head playfully at him, making it seem she was okay.

He was half convinced she was okay but the other half he knew she was lying about being okay.

She started recording and managed pretty well. She left with Mark and Haechan to practice with 127 she went up first then the other two behind her. They were looking at her for any sign of pain or discomfort but couldn't find any.

They made it to practice and she smiled at the guys. The choreographer called Tali to him before they started.

"Hey you good? I know how bad your cramps and nausea get, just tell me when you can't handle the pain anymore or dizzy, cause I've seen it." He said, she nodded and smiled.

"I'll try."

He nodded knowing she will just fight through the pain like usual.

They continued practice, before they got there Haechan texted them that Tali is in pain but he doesn't know how. So they kept an eye on her, she noticed but decided to go through it like normal. Thats when her pill wore off on her kick in Cherry Bomb when she stood on leg, her legs gave up on her and her abdomen felt like it was getting stabbed.

They guys ran up to her Jaehyun catching her on her way down he could see her almost crying and whimpering in pain.

"I told you when you feel the pain stop practicing especially this time but nope." The choreographer shook his head and grabbed water and ibuprofen. Tali look at it and shook her head knowing her period it probably won't work.

"Its not gonna work, I already took 3." She huffed feeling her abdomen in pain, she groan in pain.

"Whats wrong?" Yuta asked her, worried why the girl is in so much pain.

"She got her period, today and its nasty one too." The choreographer explain.

"Take her home and someone stay with her, cause her period side effects are not the best."

"What side effects? I thought it was only cramps?" Mark asked innocently.

"Well yeah, but with her its a lot, for example she has, cramps and bad ones, headaches, and nausea. Sometimes mood swings but she is good at handling that." He explained the boys eyes widen theh look at Tali who is now curling up on Jaehyuns lap in pain.

"Okay we will take her home." Doyoung said.

"Jaehyun you carry her and Johnny grab her stuff. The rest look up what good to grab for a bad period and go buy it." Doyoung instructed. The members scattered wanting Talia not to be in pain anymore.

Jaehyun and Johnny when back home first and Jaehyun layed Talia on Haechan's bed he was about to leave when Tali grabbed his hand.

"No, please don't leave I don't wanna be alone." She whined, he chuckled and went under the blanket with her on his chest. He was petting her hair, but she still wasn't able to go to sleep because of the pain. They heard the boys come through the door thats when she got up quickly and ran to the bathroom. All the boys saw her run and they started to go after her and they saw her throwing up.

Yuta went quickly to hold her hair up and rub her back. She put her face up catching her breath then flushed the toilet and layed back on Yutas chest.

"Ah, sorry, when it gets this bad I have nausea, so you will probably see me in the bathroom a lot." She smiled at them apologetically.

"No no, you don't have to be sorry, but that means you are gonna have to eat more." Taeyong stated, Talia shaked her head vigorously no.

"Yes, you are gonna dehydrate if you don't." Doyoung slightly raised his voice at her. She was gonna glare at him but closed her eyes and turned Yutas chest and sank in his arms.

They boys could see her holding back her comments and attitude, which assumed were her mood swings then Yutas eyes widen which made them worried he picked up Tali's face which kinda spooked him how quiet she was crying.

"Oh oh why are you crying?" Yuta asked softly, knowing the result of a louder voice will probably make her cry even more. Doyoung's eyes widen as he felt guilt rush through him, as the others were surprised how quiet Tali was crying or she was crying in general.

"Be- because I don't deserve you guys a-and Doyoung raised his voice at me and I was gonna say something mean but I remembered he doesn't deserved it he just cares for mee~" She whaled at the end as Yuta hugged her head as she wrapped her arms around his torso.

You could see the guilt on Doyoung's face when she said that, and noted when on her period don't raise his voice. He went in and pulling her to him, she looked up at saw his face she was about to pull away but saw the caring look in his eyes.

"Sorry for raising my voice, Im not mad and you know that but can you atleast eat a snack here and there." He asked softly, she nodded her head cutely which made the boys even more soft because some people have ugly face when they cry and some don't. Tali doesn't, her cheeks and nose goes to a rosie color while her eyes dilate and she looks like a doll.

She was about to hug Doyoung but yanked back, and went to throw up in the toilet again. The boys winced at the action as the also see Tali holding her stomach, she leans back on Yut's chest again, as Yuta plays with her hair.

"Hey uh..." She hesitated.

"No tells us its okay." WinWin said trying to reassure her as she gave him doe eyes, he went soft.

"Can someone get my uh, heating pad." As she closed her eyes tightly, her hands on her abdomen.

"Of course princess." Taeyong said as he went to grab the heating pad and heat it up.

"Im gonna go make food okay." Doyoung said and kissed her head and left, she nodded. Now the boys were around the bathroom not wanting to leave Tali's side.

"Shoot." She whispered but everyone heard.

"What is it?" Haechan whispered but worried.

"Uh..." She still looked hesitant.

"Its okay, just tell us we will do it." Taeil reassured her.

"Uh can someone grab my bag for a...tampon." She said embarrassed. The boys smiled at her flustered state. Johnny got up and grabbed the the tampons but got confused.

"Uh Tali which one?" He held up a box filled with different tampons. Talia laughed but winced, the boys looked at her with worry.

"Im okay, its fine just give it to me but can you get out please?" She smiled. They nodded and left. Once she finished she opened the dorm to see a smiling Taeyong with her heating pad her put it on her abdomen and she sighed in relief, but then dream barged in.

"NOONA?"

The boys went to the bathroom where most of the boys were surrounded. They saw her laying on Taeyong looking at them with a surprised look on her face.

"Why didn't you tell us you were hurting, huh?!" Renjun raised his voice a little which wouldn't really matter if Tali wasn't on her period didn't consider it related to her mother. The dreamies and 127 members saw her eyes water and slowly she started to cry. Which threw off the dreamies.

"I-im sorry, I didn't want to bother you, and we were going to record which was al- already stressful so I didn't want you to look after your noona." Tali hiccuped as she cried, and the look on Renjun's face couldn't have felt more guilty, thinking he made Talia cry. Before he could say anything she said

"Im sorry I'm am emotional mess." Which broke them seeing her like that Taeyong held her head to his chest rocking her back and fourth.

"Shh its okay. We love you okay, remember that." He said kissing her head. Trying to rock her to sleep.

Renjun was standing there feeling guilty thinking he did something wrong to make Talia cry. But Doyoung went up to him and patted him on the back.

"You didn't do anything wrong, right now she is emotional, Haechan will expain the do's and don'ts that we have learn while she is on her period." Doyoung expain to the dreamies, they nodded and went to Haechans room.

They entered and Renjun was feeling guilty, yeah she was on her period but he felt like he did such a terrible thing. Haechan noticed.

"Yeah I saw, its fine it happened to Doyoung too, but what we have learned so far is that she has bad cramps, headaches, nausea and mood swings."

"Is that why she is in the bathroom?" Chenle asked, Haechan nodded.

The dreamies felt helpless, they cant do much for their noona.

Next day.....

Tali woke up in Haechan's bed, with Renjun hugging her, she guessed he felt bad for making her cry, now and now she felt bad for overreacting.

Then she stopped herself if she thought more about what happen she would cry again. She got up and saw everyone around sleeping, she felt guilty for making them worry but then she felt something and knew what was coming.

She ran to the bathroom which made everyone wake up and look around seeing Tali up which meant she went to throw up. They felt guity not being able to help. Renjun woke pretty fast and ran after her, he saw her throwing up and held her hair back and hugged her.

"You okay?" He asked softly. She nodded.

"I know its weird, but can you bring me a tampon any is fine." He nodded and left. She huffed and layed her head back.

"Im so going on birth control."

#nct #nct 2020 #nct dream #nct additional member #nct 127 #nct tali #nct u #nct au #nct dream 8th member #nct 24th member #nct fanfic #nct imagine #nct scenarios #nct icons #nct johnny #nct taeyong #nct winwin #nct jeno #nct jaehyun #nct chenle #nct haechan #nct mark #nct renjun #nct taeil

[skvaderarts]

Hiraeth Chapter 57: Safeguard

Masterlist can be found Here!

Chapter Fifty-Seven: Safeguard

Note: I had to play DMC2 for this. Again. Mourn my untimely death. Thank you.

(-~-)

On either side of the walls that surrounded the courtyard stood a menagerie of dilapidated structures, some clearly the remnants of statues, other what remained of pillars that could have been structural at one point or another. Nothing remained overhead, so it was difficult to tell. What was clear was that this place was ancient, a relic of a bygone era long before the time that anyone he personally knew existed. And there was a strange kind of intrigue that came with that.

Looking over at the young guardian as they traversed what remained of the path laid out before them, the Darkslayer couldn’t help but notice the aura of this place. In truth, it had been a lifetime since he’d felt anything like it. The Qliphoth had reeked of blood and death, the catacombs underneath the city where Dante’s office had been when they were teenagers had reeked of decay, mold, and rot, and the walls and halls of Temen Ni Gru had held the stench that only stagnant air and malevolence could produce. This was entirely different. It was strangely familiar. He dared say that it resonated with him. But he knew with every fiber of his being that he had never set foot in this place or the sprawling grounds around it before, so how could that be even remotely possible?

“Who constructed this edifice, and what was its intended purpose?” He spoke bluntly but without malllace. After all, he had not been wronged in any way. But he had to admit that there was something imposing about this place despite the fact that it was clearly not evil. In a way, it was almost as if the imposing building that stood before them was actively trying to drive them away, making it known that they were not welcome on these hallowed grounds. They did not belong here. That much was a fact.

Stopping for a moment to survey the grounds, Lucia looked over at him. They had not been standing terribly close to one another, but they were within comfortable speaking distance. Her hand slowly slid down towards the blade at her waist, something clearly making her warry of this place. Perhaps the very energy of this place unsettled her in the same way that it unsettled him?

“This ruin is what remains of a temple where the devils that ruled this island were worshiped. They demanded much of my people, and much was lost. Your father ventured here when we needed him most, and with him by our side, we managed to defeat the foul devil Argosax and lord Sparda sealed him away, never to return.” Her eyes slowly traveled towards the remnants of the stone hallway that encompassed the edges of the grounds, something seemingly catching her eye. “We were entrusted with the artifacts used in that ritual. This is the main temple. After Argosax’s death at Dante’s hands, we consolidated the remaining Arcana and reset the traps. It seems that your father set a few of his own. And for that we are grateful.”

Her words caught him slightly off guard. He was somewhat sure that Dante had mentioned that her people had worked with their father before, but the fact that he might have had something to do with putting a spell of some sort on the grounds of this temple that would still be in place? For what purpose? “What would be the purpose of these traps? Have they just activated now after all this time?”

“One can only assume that it is a defense mechanism against whatever happened that allowed the Arcana that you returned to me to be taken from its home, but this is not the source of that artifact. We kept it in a clock tower. This was the home of another artifact until recently. The holy chalice.” her eyes remained focused on whatever was over there, just out of her line of sight.  Something has happened here during my absence. My mother contacted me to say as much. And that is why I had to return so suddenly. Forgive me if I-”

Vergil raised his hand slightly, unwilling to allow her to continue to apologize for something that wasn’t even remotely her fault. None of this was her doing. She had not been here to guard this place with the rest of her clan because she had been assisting him and the rest of his family. He would no sooner blame her for having to return to her duties than he would anyone else. “Your responsibilities lie elsewhere. I know that.”

She seemed to understand, nodding to herself as she broke away to assess what she perceived to be a possible threat. Vergil allowed his hand to rest on Yamato’s hilt, ready and willing to back her up if necessary. After all, it was below his dignity to stand by and allow her to do battle alone, even if the foes she was doing battle against were not much of a threat to her life. “Thank you for your understanding.”

“You see something.” His breath was barely a whisper, but she understood what he said regardless. It wasn’t a question and she knew that. A quick now was all it took for him to fall in line behind her, making sure that nothing was going to get the better of them from behind. He refused to allow his opponents an easy way of gaining the upper hand.

Without warning, a ball of fire jetted forward from behind the rocks and several heads popped up from throughout the ruin. The figures wore different colored robes ranging from back to red as they brandished their staffs, clearly ready to attack. This had been an ambush from the moment that they had stepped foot on the grounds. Much to his irritation, he had just been too distracted by the temple itself to see that.

(-~-)

“Genuinely, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen anyone try to eat a burger while holding it like that.” Sirrus continued to stare at V as allowed his head to rest on his right hand, his elbow having gone numb from the pressure of being embedded into the table for this long. But they had nowhere better to be until after he was done eating, and he didn’t want to suggest that they take it to go. It would probably get wet in the rain anyway. Best to just finish it while they were there. “How very… particular.”

V allowed his eyes to direct back towards Sirrus, a slight bit of humor creeping back into them. He succeeded in biting the burger and then chewed it, admittedly pleased by the taste. He only had a few more bites left at this point, but he knew exactly what his companion was talking about. It wasn’t the first time that he had been called out for eating things in an odd way.

“As a general rule, I don’t like the sensation of having wet hands. It just feels wrong to me somehow.”

Sirrus seemed intrigued, sitting up somewhat instead of continuing to look at V in a sort of dreamy, hyper-attentive gauze. He’d been listening to V talk, sure, but he was much more concerned with the state that he had found his friend in. V had seemed so utterly broken to him in that instant, and he wanted to make sure that everything that had happened that day had not weakened his resolve. He cared much for his friend. V meant the world to him, and all he truly wanted was for him to be safe and happy. He had been neither of those things at the moment in time.

“Does that mean that you never wash your hands, then?”

Truthfully, he wasn’t sure if he’d actually wanted an answer to that question or if he just wanted to keep V talking in the hopes that something he said would eventually make him laugh. He knew he needed it. But he was actually surprised when the young summoner answered his somewhat rhetorical question. After all, it wasn’t as though he needed to. He could’ve just laughed it off as a silly joke and continued to eat.

“Indeed, I do. It’s more about the texture of the substance on my hands than it is the actual fact that they are wet, I think.” He took another bite out of the burger, delighted by the fact that there was a pickle in this part. He was actually quite fond of tart snacks like this. The next time he went to the grocery store, he would have to pick up a jar of some sort of pickled vegetable. “For example, water is just fine, but I despise the sensation of oil and grease. Sauce is an especially egregious offender in this regard. Something about it is just disgusting to me. It’s just too thick.”

Repressing the urge to full one laugh at that revelation, Sirrus held his hand up to his face and laughed into the back of it, shaking his head slightly. He’d never heard something this strangely specific and ridiculous before in his life, and he honestly didn’t know what to say about it. But if that was indeed how V felt about it, then that was the reality of the situation. Nothing that he could say or do would make it any different.

“No, I actually kind of love it. It’s exceptionally quirky!” Sirrus laughed slightly, but his tone was no less sincere. He genuinely did care about what was going on with V, even if his unrelenting sense of humor wouldn’t allow him to convey that with any degree of seriousness. “Although it does seem like it would be a bit miserable. I wish you luck coping with it.”

V nodded in appreciation and picked up a thick napkin to wipe his hand on. “We should head back. It’s getting late, and I must admit that I do feel worse than I did earlier today. I should not have strayed away from the range of the hex for this long.” He stood up, steadying himself. Perhaps it was simply the nature of eating food that heavy, but he had to admit that he was somewhat sleepy. Not in the sort of way that would lead to him actually going to bed early that night, but in the kind of way that meant that it was time to curl up under a blanket and relax. “Thank you for dinner. It was quite good. And for everything else. I think I needed this more than I realized.”

“I believe that during times as severe and unrelentingly bleak as these, normality and simplicity are the only things that truly bring us out of that darkness.” Sirrus stood up and joined him, ready to catch him should he need it but more than willing to assume that he could handle catching his balance by himself. V had made it this long without his aid. He was more than capable of taking care of himself. Well, most of the time. “There is no need to thank me for doing the bare minimum that I can to help you. We're not far away from your home. It should not take us very long to get back there. Would you prefer that we hail a cab? I don’t mind sharing my umbrella with you if you don’t.”

V looked out of the window for a moment before nodding ever so slightly to himself. He then turned back to Sirrus and gave something akin to a small smile and tilted his head in the direction of the door. “Then perhaps we should simply walk back.”

Happy to oblige him, Sirrus placed what seemed to be a large sum of money on the table before heading over to the door and opening his umbrella. V had one of his own, but it was probably better that he keep it closed and focus on keeping his balance in the rain. After all, he wasn’t wearing a jacket, so holding up his arms to keep the umbrella over his head would only sacrifice much-needed warmth. He didn’t mind sharing the umbrella with him in the slightest.

For a few minutes, they walked along in silence, simply enjoying the company of one another and the sound of the rain as it came down in a furious downpour. It was more ice than rain at this point, the chilly autumn air now closer to that of winter than anything else. October was a beautiful month, but this rain had no courtesy whatsoever.

“Somehow I completely forgot to mention before that I have something for you. It may prove useful, all things considered.”

V slowed to a stop alongside his companion. Another gift, then? Perhaps he should look into giving him one as well. Now he was starting to feel a bit ungrateful. “I get the impression that you enjoy giving me gifts?”

Chuckling to himself, he nodded and then shrugged. He shifted the umbrella to his right hand, digging through his pockets as he searched for whatever it was that he was looking for. He would be lying if he said that V was wrong about that. He did indeed enjoy giving him gifts. Seeing the mixture of surprise and happiness that crossed his face as he tried to process what was going on would never become less satisfying to him. Of that much he was certain.”

“Guilty as charged. Although this one has a more practical use than the others I gave you.” Ah, there it was. Just what he had been looking for. He felt his hand brush against it as he gripped it and pulled it out of his pocket. To say he would have been irritated if he’d lost this or managed to leave it at home would be an understatement.

“More practical than an entire house full of furniture? Somehow I find that incredibly difficult to believe… ” He stopped dead in his tracks as he saw what he was being held out in from of him. In Sirrus’s hand was a simple onyx bracelet with a chain clasp. Between every three or so stones was a metal loop that matched the chains on the lower section of the bracelet that led to the clasp. All in all, a high-quality but not at all flashy piece of jewelry that was entirely unremarkable aside from the slightly larger green gemstone of some sort that hung from the center off of a metal loop of some sort. And in truth, it was strangely to his liking. He had worn a bracelet on a few occasions in his lifetime, but this would easily be the nicest.

“Do you mind holding this for a moment?” Sirrus said pleasantly as he held it towards him. V obliged breathlessly, entirely unsure as to how to process this particular gift. He wasn’t so much confused as he was deeply unsure as to the implication of this specific trinket. It wasn’t that it seemed expensive so much as it was the fact that he was being gifted something of this nature at all.

V opened his mouth to speak before closing it again, genuinely unsure as to what to say. He’d never received this kind of gift before. He was admittedly flattered by his newfound friend’s continued generosity. But there was something that he did want to make clear to him at that moment. Something that he felt needed to be said considering what had just transpired between them. He just hoped that it didn’t come out half as needlessly unkind as it did in his head.

Believe me, I know that. But I appreciate why you would feel the need to clarify. I have been rather fiscally negligent lately. I sincerely apologize if I’ve made you uncomfortable. That was not my intention.” A gentle look of understanding passed across his face. He was more than slightly aware that it was the nature of extravagant gifts to make people uncomfortable, and the last thing that he wanted to do was make V uncomfortable. He got the impression that he wasn’t accustomed to receiving gifts. “This bracelet has a protective ward built into it that should help mitigate Belial’s influence, if only slightly. It has other effects as well that should be beneficial to you. Namely the effect it has on hostile demons. I went to fetch it after everything that happened earlier. I thought you might like something that made you feel more secure. Less alone. I get that impression from you at times, and I understand how awful it feels to be in a room filled with people but still alone. “

He seemed to recoil slightly as he said that, the mention of that seemingly causing him no small amount of distress. V noted that quietly as he held the bracelet up towards the moonlight, admittedly quietly excited about the gift. He hoped that he wasn’t being unkind. He knew that Sirrus meant him no harm, but it occurred to him at that moment that this gift might have more significance for his companion than it did for him. Had Morgan actually been onto something with her joke…?

“Thank you I… I’m not sure what else I can say… This is…” He paused, genuinely at a loss for where to even try to find the proper words. He was utterly blown away by how wonderful this gift was, especially considering that it was apparently magical in nature. Perhaps it was just best that he be happy about the gift and not go into a self-imposed existential downward spiral. “You said it has other effects?” 

“Oh, yes it has several. I’m sure you will see soon enough. I sense that we might have company, hence my timing. I was going to wait until we arrived at your house but...” He gestured towards the empty wooded lot across the street from them and, without warning, a shadowed being dropped down off of the top of the small warehouse next door. V shook his head and readied his cane. It seemed that Sirrus’s intuition was on the money. He too had the feeling that something wasn’t quite right around the area they were in when they had left the diner, but now he was sure of it.

“Perhaps we should dispose of it before we head back? If you’re feeling up to it. Otherwise, I can just strike it dead where it now stands and be done with it.” Sirrus withdrew his blade from the inside of the coat he was wearing with casual disinterested dismissal. V got the impression that this particular demon wasn’t very high on his newfound friend’s threat index.

No, I think that we should take care of it. If nothing else it should be a good opportunity to practice while I still have the chance.” V allowed Shadow to join him, the deep abyssal fur of the devil being much less likely to draw the attention of anyone who might happen upon them. He would summon Griffon if he felt the need to.

With a smirk the two-headed across the street, ready to see what they were up against. And as soon as they both came close enough to see it, they stopped dead in their tracks. It seemed they might have bitten off more than they initially bargained for… 

“Oh. Oh.”

(-~-)

The rules clearly state that before the big battle I get to write two smaller battles as a reward for having to play DMC2 for research purposes. Sorry, that’s just what the rules say. I don’t make them XD anyway, I hope you liked this chapter! I’ll see you again on Wednesday! And thank you for the awesome comments you’ve left this last week. They really made my day!

#Hiraeth #V #Sirrus #Vergil #Lucia #My Devil May Cry OC #DMC #DMC5 #DMCV #My Post Devil May Cry 5 AU #My Post Devil May Cry 5 AU OC's #Fic #My Post Devil May Cry V AU Fanfiction #My Post Devil May Cry 5 OC #FanFic

[opalmaplehibiscus]

Handing Over the Mantle

HC of when the dorm leaders’ hand over their position to the first years au series

Heartslabyul ver

·       On the day of graduation, everyone was in the Garden of Roses, holding the grandest tea party that has ever been seen in  Heartslabyul Dorm

·       Ace and Deuce were seen arguing, this time over the fact they stole each other’s tart. First starting with pointing at each other, Deuce was now chasing after Ace after Ace snatched the tart he had just picked up

·       Riddle sighs and exasperatedly grumbles how those two never cease to fight causing Trey to chuckle. The now-retired vice dorm leader points out how it was their way of showing each other that they care for each other, while Cater backed Trey on the side, fondly saying that the fact they argue like this means that’s how close they were

·       Riddle’s eyes shut close while the skin between his eyebrows creases as he takes a sip of tea from his cup when Trey and Cater bursts out laughing when Ace tripped and caused the tart to land on the ground, leading to them arguing again

·       When their laughs finally came to an end, the trio shared a comfortable silence as they continued to watch the rest of the dorm members enjoy the tea party

·       It was Cater who breaks it, asking if Trey or Riddle had over told Ace and Deuce

·       Riddle replies no before he gets up and calls Ace and Deuce over

·       Cater, seeing where this was going, panics while Trey tries to calm Magicam king to call down and trust Riddle

·       By the time Ace and Deuce comes over, Trey and Cater were already standing a foot behind Riddle

·       Riddle tells the ADeuce duo to stand behind them before he starts tapping his spoon onto his cup to gain everyone’s attention

·       Out of habit, everyone immediately stops what they were doing and gives Riddle their attention though trading glances when they see Ace and Deuce at the front with the rest of the trio

·       Opening his mouth, Riddle starts a speech. He talks about how much Heartslabyul had changed to become a much more powerful dorm because not only the follow rules, but also put in the dedication to make the dorm as such

·       While Riddle talked, Ace and Deuce were giving each other looks, whispering quietly here and there as they asked why Riddle would want them to stand with him. Though, every time they did, Trey or Cater would nudge them and remind them to shush

·       And when did that ever stop them? Ace and Deuce hasn’t once listened to Trey and Cater unless it was about something serious which often led them to get yelled at by Riddle. So, when  Riddle shot the two a glare for a quick second, Ace and Deuce straightened up and stopped

·       Despite making neutral faces, Ace and Deuce were both sweating from head to toe. They were becoming anxious as only bad thoughts were crossing their mind. Heck they were thinking about all the recent rules they broke 5 minutes ago that might’ve became known to Riddle leading them to stand. And I mean, you can’t blame them when Riddle can detect a rule breaker 100 meters away

·       They didn’t expect to get their arms pulled by Riddle, being dragged to stand next to him

·       They DEFINETLY didn’t expect Riddle to proclaim Ace as new dorm leader and Deuce as vice

·       Ace and Deuce chorused with the rest in their proclaim of surprise while Trey lifts his hat in acknowledgment and Cater saying “Congratulations” to them

·       Deuce continued to stand there blankly while Ace quickly snapped out of it and asked Riddle what he meant

·       Turning his head towards Ace, Riddle gives him a look of “are you okay” before he answers the obvious

·       Ace face palms from the answer before he further clarified why Riddle was suddenly proclaiming that he and Deuce were going to be dorm leader and vice when they weren’t even told about it

·       Riddle continues to give Ace a judging look before he sighs and answered how if he had told Deuce and him, they would’ve freaked out and chose not to appear when their names get called

·       Ace tries to defend himself at least but the stares he was getting from everyone told him that no matter what he said, it would go unheard since they knew him too well

·       He sighs before he looks at Riddle again, further questioning Riddle. He and Deuce were rule breakers – they broke rules multiple times, caused chaos wherever they went, and argued nearly 90% of the time. Just from those 3 reasoning alone, there’s no way Riddle would approve of them for either positions

·       It took a minute for Riddle to process what Ace had said before he finally understood where Ace was coming from

·       Looking straight into Ace’s eyes, Riddle talks about despite those reasons (and how it often lead him and Trey to get an headache since they end up cleaning up their mess), the short red-head senpai started to talk about how Ace was someone that was easy-going, quick-witted, and someone who’s able to get along with everyone perfectly fine

·       Riddle mentions the OB event that now had taken place a year ago of how it was thanks to Ace, he was able to improve himself to become a better dorm leader to Heartslabyul. And it was because Riddle remembered that moment, it led him to believe that Ace was fit for the role. It showed Riddle that Ace was capable of being able to analyze like a great wizard and point out people’s flaws not to shame them but to get them fixed

·       Seeing Deuce finally getting himself back together, Riddle continued how the duo were always seen together, making the right decisions that would best benefit everyone, while having each other’s back. They’re both each other’s voice of reasoning and unhesitant to correct the other if they do or say something wrong. Something that was much needed and the biggest weakness he and Trey had when they were leading Heartslabyul

·       Deuce wasn’t good with befriending others like Ace, however his skills of making sure no one went over the line, doing his best to follow the rules,  and being there when it counted the most showed that Deuce was a strong support – a vice dorm leader that could hold Ace and the dorm

·       Trey and Cater gave their few cents here and there while Riddle was saying all of this, pointing out how the two were able to deal with most of the OBs when they couldn’t and continued to protect their dorm’s honor during the time they went against RSA

·       Seeing how no words were able to form from the ADeuce duo, Riddles gets Ace to come closer to him before he places the crown on Ace’s head, the cape around his shoulders, and finally the scepter into his hands

·       On the side, Trey gives Deuce a sheepish look and apologizes that he couldn’t give him something as cool as what Ace was given before affectionately places his hat on Deuce’s head

·       Cater continued to take pictures on the side, while Riddle gets Ace to face the rest of the dorm with him along with Trey who does the same with Deuce

·       When Riddle re-announces that Ace and Deuce are officially Heartslabyul’s new dorm leader and vice dorm leader, it finally sinks in the two that their senpais were now going to leave

·       They held their head down, trying to hide their tears as Riddle started the graduation farewell address

·       In their heads, they wanted to tell Riddle to repeat a year and retake 4th year since Riddle had chosen to skip 3rd year

·       Half way through the address, Riddle starts to tear up as he apologizes to everyone the pain they had suffered through during the first half of his leadership, telling them that he continues to regret hurting them as well as having a hard time to show he cared for them

·       At this point, everyone was crying including Trey, who was covering his eyes with one of his hands, and Cater, who kept on wiping his eyes every so often while filming the whole thing live on Magicam

·       By the time Riddle reached the end of the address, Riddle gives them the happiest and softest smile he has ever made as he finishes by stating that Heartslabyul had become his pride and he couldn’t ask for any better dorm other than this one

·       It takes a while to get everyone to stop sobbing including the five that were up the front

·       Ace and Deuce tears continued to hit the ground as they were getting patted on the head or shoulders by Riddle, Trey, and Cater – the 3 of them trying to convince the two to stop crying despite having tears rolling down their face

·       When things calmed down, the all stood up while Ace, Deuce, Trey  and Cater walked towards the front of the table before yelling out all together “Dorm leader Riddle – Thank you very much!” and bow

·       Ace and Deuce both swore to Riddle that they would make him proud by leading Heartslabyul into its most powerful state as Riddle covered his face to hide his tears that were falling again

·       The graduation tea party ends with everyone lifting their cups and sharing a toast as they celebrated the last day of Heartslabyul’s graduating seniors as Ace and Deuce clicked their cups with Trey, Cater, and Riddle all together as symbolism of ending the era of the Crimson Ruler and the starting of Heartslabyul’s Golden Age

#twst #twisted wonderland #heartslabyul #riddle rosehearts #trey clover #cater diamond #ace trappola #deuce spade #hc #headcanon

[turtle-paced]

GoT Re-Watch: Fine-Toothed Comb Edition

This post is also available on my wordpress.

8.06 – The Iron Throne

Or, A Close-Up of Tyrion Lannister.

(1:59) Right, now that the best part of the episode is over (RIP clockwork credits), who’s ready for lots of shots of people walking around the rubble? Figurative and literal rubble? Shot of Tyrion starts here! Close up on Peter Dinklage, hooooold that close up, keep the background out of focus so we’ve only got the suggestion of the devastation he’s reacting to in the background…

(2:32) After holding that shot for thirty fucking seconds, we get to see what it is Tyrion’s reacting to. Dead kid in the rubble, in this case. Let’s just keep following Tyrion’s walking tour of the ruins of King’s Landing in complete silence, Jon and Davos trailing behind him.

(3:41) Still following people through the rubble. Skeletons visible, charred child’s toy because we didn’t get the point yet…

(3:57) We have dialogue! Whooo! And then we go right back to Tyrion walking through King’s Landing.

(4:58) You know, it’s remarkable how Lannister soldiers got a lot more attractive once the narrative allowed ordinary Lannister soldiers to be the victims of main characters. Seriously, go back and compare this lot to, say, any of the ones Arya came across in the season two-four era.

(5:45) Now we see a little bit of a conflict between the Northern forces and the Unsullied over the appropriate handling of the prisoners in the aftermath. Hang on to the thought for just a few minutes more.

(6:28) Speaking of character derailment, Grey Worm is also just here for the war crimes. That tiny little bit at the start of last episode where Dany hands over Missandei’s only possession to Grey Worm and he chucks it into the fire is the last we saw of either of their internal state of mind prior to both of them getting on the civilian/prisoner massacre train. After multiple seasons of these characters holding strongly to some sense of ideals and ethics (even if they’re not ethics you agree with!), through a lot of messed up bullshit, they just chuck all those ethics out here in the last two episodes.

(6:33) Tyrion continues walking through ruins.

(7:36) Cut to Tyrion walking through the ruined ground level of the Red Keep to Tyrion walking through the ruined secret passages of the Red Keep. Yes, that took more than a minute. Does anyone get the feeling there’s not actually much plot to this plot? Anyone feeling like we’re largely substituting shots of Peter Dinklage emoting over the ruins of King’s Landing for writing how Tyrion Lannister would react to the burning of King’s Landing?

The man can act. But nobody can act enough to make up for this sucking black hole of plot vacuity. And it blunts the impact of what’s coming up.

(9:19) Tyrion finds Jaime’s golden hand in the rubble of the mostly-uncollapsed tunnel. Shortly thereafter, he uncovers both Jaime and Cersei. A few metres to one side and they would have been fine.

Here is where we need to hold on Tyrion as he breaks down over the discovery of his siblings’ dead bodies. Here is where those tight close ups are going to have most impact. Unfortunately, of the eight minutes of episode, we’ve already spent about five of them with only Tyrion and Tyrion’s emotions to engage us as he walked through King’s Landing.

(11:00) Speaking of people walking through rubble, it’s Arya! The main difference between her in this episode and her in last episode is that she slowed her pace down from a run. Where’d the white horse she was riding go? Who knows. Off with the symbolism, we’ve got more symbolism to jam in here and we are not going to be as subtle as a white horse.

(11:33) Jon walks through Dany’s forces. First the Dothraki, all on their horses, arakhs bared despite the conflict ending. Then through the Unsullied, lined up in perfect rows with perfect armour including helmets, despite having been in a fight a couple hours ago.

Have you spotted what’s missing here? Because I have.

(13:05) See, now that’s symbolism! As Dany approaches her armies (wearing all black, natch), we get a shot of Drogon behind her so that it looks like his wings are emerging from Dany’s back! I haven’t seen symbolism this delightfully subtle since Man of Steel. Her Satanic Majesty indeed.

(13:33) We’re getting long pans over Dany’s forces, and this is where I am going to say it.

This is racist as fuck. It’s out of some fucking propaganda booklet somewhere.

We all understood (at least I hope we all understood) that when Cersei was talking about “hordes of Dothraki savages” etc etc in season seven, that was an in-universe racist dogwhistle. She was appealing to the xenophobia and racism of Westerosi lords to rally support to her own cause. And here in season eight, we see that when Cersei was talking about savage hordes etc etc, she was actually correct. Completely, 100% correct. The in-universe racism was validated by the plot. We did not get “each side is bad, because that’s war in a feudal setting” (like we did when it was mostly white people in conflict with other white people). We got soft-looking Lannister soldiers and white civilians killed in the streets, and now we’re panning over the armies that did it, almost entirely PoC. The Dothraki cheering is the only background noise, so you can be sure that it’s meant to sound foreign and alarming. The Unsullied are damn well stormtroopers, dehumanised in their discipline and in their uniformity. The shots are denying them faces.

Meanwhile, the white Northerners (who absolutely participated in the slaughter last episode) are nowhere to be fucking seen. Now that we’re showing the eeeeeeeevil that is Dany’s cause fully unveiled, with the speeches in a “foreign language”, the black outfits, the black and red banners, the whole shebang, the white people other than Dany aren’t fully participating. We’re getting white people as victims, or mysteriously missing from shots of the bad guys, and the people of colour as the bad guys, their otherness emphasised through direction and mise en scene.

Even with the plot points the showrunners wanted (which are bad enough on their own), they did not have to do this like this. Depicting the Unsullied as battle-worn human beings as opposed to Stormtrooper Evil Robots was an option. Including the Northern forces in the shots of the new bad guys was an option. Reminding people that the Lannister army is not a war-crime-free zone was an option. Casting the King’s Landing crowds as more racially diverse was an option. Not introducing and contextualising this conflict with naked xenophobia and racism was an option.

They did not do any of this. There are so many ways they could have done something that did not vindicate the in-universe racists. Instead we’ve got this fucking lazy, fucking racist shortcut of “these guys are the bad guys and you can tell because they’re not white and European-coded.”

(13:54) The other thing to note here is that Dany is now perfectly put together. She’s brushed her hair. She’s wearing clean clothing. She’s perfectly serene. We’re no longer getting the way-too-close ups to indicate a precarious emotional state. In other words, the show has dropped the indications that Dany is insane even more abruptly than it introduced them. Hold the thought.

(14:57) The Unsullied are not allowed emotional expression anymore, because now they are evil robots who do war crimes. This goes for Gray Worm (addressed conspicuously with the translation of his name, rather than the immediately-audible reminder that ‘Gray Worm’ was a slave name) who gives half a smile, and the Unsullied at large, who tap their spear butts on the ground in lieu of cheering.

(15:33) Ah, the other sign that Dany is an irredeemable monster. She wants to liberate slaves. For fuck’s sake, the woman firebombed a major city without any sort of justification last episode, that’s the evil part. Not the bit where she wants everyone to live in freedom. And yet we’re getting the ominous music and the serious reaction shots from reasonable white men over this as well.

(17:20) Tyrion freed Jaime? Yeah, Dany, wait until you hear what Tyrion promised regarding Highgarden, it’s a bit of a plot hole.

(17:47) Tyrion tenders his resignation, effective immediately.

(18:29) He is also arrested.

(19:19) Arya, last seen at the back of the crowd, does a bit of mild teleporting to arrive next to Jon as he watches Dany walk away. Just so you know why Arya’s there and what she’s doing.

(20:09) Strong contender for the stupidest line of the series, right here. I know that I didn’t think I’d hear one to match the infamous “bad pussy” line. Arya, about Dany, after the latter burned down a city on her giant fire-breathing dragon, in full daylight and in front of three full armies: “I know a killer when I see one.”

(20:40) Oh. Joy. This scene. I have not been looking forward to recapping this scene. If that last line was stupid, this scene brings stupid and offensive to the table.

(21:10) Ah yes, Tyrion betrayed Varys. That pure, innocent angel Varys, who used children in his plots to murder monarchs. As we all know, Varys’ motives were noble, and so this excuses the fact that he risked a child’s life in an assassination attempt.

(21:28) Oh yeah! Remember when Jon was resurrected? That affected a lot of things, didn’t it? A major player in the metaphysical and political arenas, that’s Jon Snow!

(22:37) “She liberated the people of Slaver’s Bay. She liberated the people of King’s Landing. And she’ll go on liberating until the people of the world are free…and she rules them all.”

Okay, there’s a bit to unpack here, because the show is smushing some concepts together.

First up is the implied equation of Dany’s actions in Slaver’s Bay to her actions in King’s Landing. I mean, forgive me if I’m wrong, but I don’t recall Dany burning Meereen to the ground. When last we saw the Meereenese theatre, it was left with the implication that she’d left a reasonably stable outfit in charge. With the implication that the slaving powers in the region had been broken. (How plausible the depiction was is another matter.) Dany just fucking set fire to King’s Landing. These two things…really aren’t that much alike. Show!Dany liberated Slaver’s Bay. She murdered King’s Landing. We can make a pretty clear distinction between her actions in each respective place. They should not be lumped in the same category.

Nor do her actions in Slaver’s Bay logically lead to her actions in King’s Landing. We’ll get into the thinking behind this part of the line when the showrunners make this connection even more explicit and offensive.

Second, just chucking in that “world domination” thing at the end. Again we’re getting this core idea that because Dany is willing to use violence to achieve idealistic ends, she’s necessarily a power-hungry tyrant in her own right. To say nothing of the leap between “Dany wants to rule the Seven Kingdoms” to “Dany wants to take over the world.” Especially given the alleged basis for Dany’s desire for the Iron Throne, i.e. she considers it her birthright. Since she believes she’s entitled to one piece of pie (debateable), she will inevitably attempt to take the entire pie.

(23:02) “It was vanity to think that I could guide her. Our queen’s nature is fire and blood.” Oh, gag me with a spoon. What happened to the word “counsel” or “advise”? Because the use of the word “guide” is a lot more teacher-student dynamic, with Tyrion in the position of power. Dany’s a grown goddamn woman, a queen for years before Tyrion came along, who hired him to advise, not to teach. Hell yeah it’s vanity!

But more than that, it’s so fucking condescending. Oh, tragic little Daenerys, who needed a man’s guidance, but succumbed to her essential nature of uncontrolled violence. This doesn’t even frame Dany’s decision to burn a fucking city as her decision. News flash: there is no dark side of the force making a puppet out of show!Dany, show!Dany made her evil decisions independently. For shitty, poorly-explained, poorly-thought-out, poorly written reasons, yes, but there we go.

(23:07) Jon addresses the bullshit “we are definitely our parents” argument.

(23:23) Which Tyrion responds to by saying “dude, did you see how many people she killed?” Which doesn’t actually address the fucking issue. He’s still arguing that Dany = Mad Queen = totally a Targ thing. Remarkably, it’s like the characters in-universe can’t think of a convincing reason for this plot development either.

Speaking of, how many people did Cersei kill? It’s like she committed some sort of atrocity, perhaps at the end of season six, that by rights should have turned all of Westeros against her to the point that everyone should have been overjoyed to see an alternative ruler show up.

(23:45) But what the conversation as a whole drives towards is this central point: Dany is evil. Not crazy. Evil. Which makes the last two episodes, with their hysterical woman bullshit, even more purely gratuitous. And also emphasises just how abrupt that fucking heel turn was. Episode three, Dany, saving humanity! Episode five, Dany, burning down a whole city because she doesn’t think John Smith of 3 Main Street, King’s Landing, is woke enough!

(24:24) “What does it matter what I’d do?” Jon asks. Hey, a good question. What have Jon’s decisions mattered thus far this season?

(24:31) And here it is, maybe the lowest moment in the series, as far as I’m concerned, and it’s got some stiff competition.

“When she murdered the slavers of Astapor, I’m sure no one but the slavers complained. After all, they were evil men. When she crucified hundreds of Meereenese nobles, who could argue? They were evil men. The Dothraki khals she burned alive? They would have done worse to her. Everywhere she goes, evil men die, and we cheer her for it. And she grows more powerful and more sure that she is good and right.”

Where to even start? The echoes of Niemoller’s famous First they came…? Sure! Why not. First Daenerys came for the slavers, and the only people who spoke out were other slavers. Then Daenerys came for other slavers, and nobody spoke out, because they were slavers. Then Daenerys came for a third group of slavers who incidentally threatened to rape her, and nobody spoke out, because they were slavers, who incidentally threatened to rape her and in every instance we can see why someone might violently oppose slavers. Meanwhile, in a key difference from First they came…, the people who are being “come for” are persecuted parties (in the context to which the text refers, keep that in mind with the Communists). Not the oppressors. Portraying the slavers as the injured parties here, and not, like, the central problem in all thistakes some fucking nerve. Or some serious moral blindness.

Next, the attack on the audience. Shame on them for delighting in seeing evil fought! Successfully as well! Shame! Where’s my shame bell?

For the most part, the show framed most of Dany’s actions in Essos as just and positive. In later seasons, we saw Dany take violent actions. But at every step of the way to this point, the show did keep in sight that Dany was fighting fucking slavers. Her end goal was securing freedom for the former slaves. While the show from time to time questioned her means, up until oh, season eight episode four, her ends were portrayed as noble. So to start questioning those ends now, here in the final two episodes of the entire series, is a little jarring. Especially since, as mentioned beforehand, we haven’t seen any signs of Dany conflating “free people from tyranny” with “take over the world, mwahahaha” until her very scary speech just then. At most, she was conflating “free people from tyranny” with “defeat Cersei and assume rule of Westeros.” Which, given that Cersei blew up the Sept of Baelor with more than a hundred people inside, would seem, y’know. Fair enough to think that defeating Cersei would be freeing people from tyranny.

The viewer was not wrong to think that show!Daenerys had good intentions for the vast majority of this show. Yes, she also had personal ambitions and character flaws. The viewer was not wrong to think that the show wanted us to support Dany’s apparent ambitions of freeing people and overthrowing the dynamite-happy Cersei. Here in season eight, episode six, the show is trying to gaslight its own viewers with this “it was there all along!” horseshit.

Finally, the politics. Fighting evil makes you evil, don’t you know. Making an oppressor stop makes you just as bad as the oppressor, in the end. Do what show!Tyrion does, both in season six with the slavers and in seasons seven and eight with Cersei, and continue making futile appeals to an enemy who’s repeatedly taken advantage of peaceful processes. That’s how you stop injustice.

Even on what the show itself has shown us: that is some horse. shit.

In short, the writing here is bad and the politics are worse.

(25:25) “Wouldn’t you kill whoever stood between you and paradise?” What a wacky utopian notion Dany’s got in her head, a world without slavery.

Also, weird question, because no is a valid and reasonable answer to Tyrion’s question. Or perhaps not so weird, when you consider that the show has been pretty reliable in saying yes, the ends do justify the means. The exception is when someone gets one of the aforementioned wacky utopian notions in their head. You know. Killing children is bad, slavery is evil, feudal monarchy isn’t any great shakes…things like that.

(26:05) “I love her too,” Tyrion says. This was…kinda set up. Kinda. The staring as Jon went to Dany’s rooms at the end of season seven, the fact that Tyrion’s not patronising sex workers any more – that equals love. First, though, I’m not feeling it, because Tyrion’s spent very little personal time with Dany. Most of his interactions with her have been all business, and most of his business has been disagreeing with her about serious moral and ethical issues. Staring is not a substitute for character interaction.

I also find this pretty superfluous. Like, it’s not enough that Tyrion’s boss went nuts and killed an entire city, including his siblings, he has to be in love with her as well. He couldn’t have just genuinely believed in Dany’s good intentions and her ideals, he had to be in love with her. And again, Dinklage can act, but nobody can act well enough to make up for a script that just hasn’t done the work.

(27:13) What I’m noticing at this point is that in a scene that is all about suggesting to Jon that he may need to put down his girlfriend, Jon’s barely said a damn thing. He got in a few lines about people not being their parents, but mostly he’s just let Tyrion exposit about his philosophy and his emotions. The scene gets across how Tyrion feels…but not Jon.

(27:43) So just to confirm, yes, Tyrion is asking Jon to kill Dany.

(28:41) “And your sisters?” Tyrion asks Jon as he’s halfway out the door. Bran who?

(28:57) Another reminder that the only logical reason Sansa told Tyrion about Jon’s parentage is to put him forward as a Dany-alternative, despite telling her because it mattered a lot to him that he could be open with his family (a sign of how much he values their relationship), despite his requests for her to keep it secret for political reasons, and despite his personal opposition to becoming king. Show!Sansa…is not a very nice person.

(29:23) Jon walks down a corridor.

(29:43) Oh, thank goodness, that was only twenty seconds of Jon walking places before we saw something different and interesting. Remarkable restraint. Incidentally, I’m pretty sure this is supposed to be snow and not ash.

(31:04) Dany approaches the Iron Throne, fulfilling the show’s take on the House of the Undying prophecies. No, that does not mean the show was always headed for Dany becoming the ultimate villain. It’s just a better retcon than Arya killing the Night’s King.

(31:44) Now this is a better use of people-walking-places shots. It’s not just the one shot of a person walking down a hall, it’s watching someone walk towards an object with significance in a setting which has recently changed dramatically. The time we spend watching Dany walk towards a a chair here lets us see those changes and process the culmination of her ambitions.

Or continue screaming in outrage, take your pick.

(33:41) Jon Snow, finally emoting! Finally expressing an opinion! About bloody time, mate.

(34:56) In this scene, Dany is worlds away from the angry, dishevelled, heavy-breathing figure she’s been for the last two episodes. She’s back to perfect grooming. She’s smiling. She shared a story about her childhood with Jon. Much like with Cersei, we’re spending the final moments of Dany’s life emphasising Dany as a woman, just happy to be spending some time with her boyfriend. Ha ha, joke’s on her, her boyfriend is going to kill her. More on this in just a second.

By the way, it would still have been offensive if Dany was in mwa-ha-ha, burn them all mode, or in the same state she was in at the start of episode five. This is because the central decision here, to make Dany a villain due to her idealism (in some fucked up notion that fighting for a better world is itself a slippery slope), was offensive. Also poor writing.

(35:11) “How do you know it’ll be a good world?” Jon asks, and Dany replies “Because I know what is good.”

(35:33) Plus “They don’t get to choose,” Dany says, in a way too perfect echo of the conversation Tyrion just had with Jon. Okay, joke’s over, who replaced Dany with Tyrion’s straw man? We need to get on with the actual finale now.

(36:17) Dany basically proposes to Jon. They start kissing.

(36:33) Then Jon stabs her. While they’re making out.

This is so many terrible, misogynistic storytelling devices rolled into one. Again before we hit the issue of shitty writing decisions. Dany’s gone mad with power! Her reasonable boyfriend must save her from herself. If only she were in her right mind, she would doubtlessly agree. Dany was killed by her boyfriend in a moment of physical intimacy! Oh, uh, wow, that might not look so great huh – better justify it with her mass murder of civilians. The real tragedy here is how it affects the men who love Daenerys! Not the woman who got fucking murdered.

(36:41) And Dany dies without a hair out of place, a trickle of blood from her mouth and another from her nose. No inconvenient protesting, either. Very neat, very clean. 10/10 for tidiness.

So I’m on to the thing about gendered character deaths! So many female characters killed off in ways meant to emphasise some aspect or another of their femininity. Melisandre is a good, recent exception. Margaery and Olenna Tyrell, Obara and Nymeria Sand, they escaped gendered deaths.

Cersei died begging for her boyfriend’s comfort. Catelyn, Selyse Baratheon, and Ellaria Sand all died with trauma over the deaths of their children. Myrcella Baratheon died just as she accepted that she was Jaime’s daughter. Tyene Sand was killed to cause her mother pain. Talisa Maegyr was graphically stabbed in her stomach to emphasise that her unborn child was being killed as well. Shae was killed by her ex-boyfriend, focus on him as he mourned the fact that he had to kill her. Ygritte died in Jon’s arms – and now Daenerys does the same. That is a lengthy list of dead female characters dead in ways connected to their familial and/or romantic relationships. This is what we call a pattern. A pattern that repeatedly emphasises that a woman’s death isn’t her own death. It recalls the value she had for others, but not her value in and of herself.

Finally, a note on Dany’s characterisation. Because in amongst all the misogyny, there was also some character writing that would have been shitty whether or not it was also sexist.

Most of Dany’s character has been subject to a giant retcon. Daenerys was a good and caring ruler when it suited the plot, freeing slaves, deciding to fight the Others. And she was a ruthless tyrant when it suited the plot, going from “fighting the Others” to “becoming fantasy Hitler” in the space of two episodes. The wildly divergent and contradictory aspects of this character were not reconciled through any sort of internal journey, but cherry-picked according to the external plot circumstances, the gaps in characterisation covered by “but she’s crazy! Don’t expect consistency!” Until she was evil instead of crazy, here at the end, despite what came before.

(37:16) Shockingly, we’re focusing on Jon as he cries over the body of his girlfriend, who he just murdered in an intimate moment. This moment brought to you by the writers who focused on Tyrion as he killed Shae and on Theon as Sansa was raped. This is also a thing we call a pattern.

Jon hasn’t even had the character writing to sustain this moment. He’s barely said anything but “she’s my queen” all season. He’s barely had a character all season. So the sexism in this entire narrative can’t even be somewhat ameliorated (YMMV) by a successfully-executed tragedy. Jon’s interiority has been pretty well ignored, which means that the conflict here is that “Jon loves Dany, but Dany is very evil.” Ignoring Jon’s interiority here means that this plot point has nothing at all to say about right and wrong or the meaning of family in order to distract us from the misogyny of eeeeeeevil woman loses control and must be killed by her boyfriend for the good of everyone. There’s no garnish of quality execution on this fundamentally messed up plot.

I suppose in some ways that’s a relief. In others…the writers can’t even do wrong, right.

(37:41) Drogon approaches Jon, who’s still crying over Dany’s body.

(38:30) The moment as Drogon nudges at Daenerys’ body is actually sad.

(38:58) Drogon rears back, roaring. Jon’s not going anywhere.

(39:17) Psych! Drogon’s not burning Jon, he’s burning the Iron Throne! If you thought the dragon wings behind Dany were subtle and artful, you haven’t seen anything yet.

(39:42) So Drogon melts down the Iron Throne entirely. Doesn’t do anything to Jon. Leaves Jon alone entirely. Just slags the throne.

(41:06) Then takes Dany’s body and flies the hell out of there. Hopefully to a story with more respect for its female characters. Or, indeed, the concept of characters, characterisation, character development…the list goes on…

(41:51) Cut to Tyrion lying on a floor. It’s a very close shot. We’ve only got his face. We don’t know when this is, or where he is.

(42:17) After nearly thirty seconds of this, Tyrion lifts his head. Nearly thirty seconds!

(42:34) Why we didn’t start the scene here, with Tyrion actually going places, is beyond me. Because the chains around Tyrion’s wrists weren’t enough of a clue that he was still imprisoned, we had to see him lying on the floor for thirty seconds, and then Grey Worm come and get him?

Mind you, it’s a bit of a nostalgia trip. How many more shots of Tyrion walking places are we going to get in this series? We’re nearly at the end here, folks.

(42:50) Or here! Here’s a good place to pick up as well, as Tyrion and Grey Worm arrive places! The Dragonpit, incidentally. Call back to 7.07 with lots of people walking around and not actually doing much plot stuff.

(43:11) Quick pan over the people here, including a bunch of blasts from the past. Aside from the Stark delegation, we’ve got Edmure Tully! Who’s still a guy who exists in this show! Brienne and Davos are here too, mostly because they are named characters, I think! Gendry’s come down and is not sitting next to or otherwise interacting with Arya, because now that Arya rejected his proposal there’s no actual characterisation involved in his appearance. There are a few more randoms. Yara Greyjoy! Someone in Dornish clothes, not that the integrity of the Dornish plot mattered at any point! The gang is all here!

(43:34) “Where’s Jon?” Sansa asks. Pssst, girl, this is a meeting for characters with consequence. Jon’s got no business here.

(43:39) So Jon’s a prisoner, Tyrion’s a prisoner, but Tyrion is here and Jon is not. For reasons that are no more than “because reasons.” Sansa, stop pointing out the inconsistencies, artificialities, and writing decisions made at the direct expense of other characters and logical plotting all involved in giving Tyrion one last monologue! You’re ruining it!

(43:58) Now that Grey Worm points out that the Unsullied, who have had custody of Jon and Tyrion both for an undetermined but presumably multi-week period of time, wish to harm Jon and Tyrion for their actions towards Dany…why haven’t the Unsullied done anything about Jon and Tyrion?

(44:29) Once again we get Grey Worm addressed by the foreign language version of his name, because we are dehumanising the Unsullied and keeping their slave pasts out of view!

(44:44) “The people who used to live [in the Reach] are gone.” I mean, what the fuck do you even say to this? It’s just – there’s no worldbuilding to it. In the entirety of the show, there’s been like one battle in the Reach – the telefrag stomping Jaime delivered last season. That’s it. That’s all. Bam, the people are gone, because that’s what’s most convenient for this particular scene.

(45:11) “You are not here to speak,” Grey Worm yells at Tyrion. Because Tyrion is a prisoner. This is not going to stop anyone, least of all the writers. They have a monologue, they have a favourite character, and this is their last fucking chance.

(45:34) A shot over at the Vale delegation shows us Lord Royce and Sweetrobin Arryn, the latter of whom is also still a guy who exists in this show. Anyhow, Tyrion’s redirected the conversation to the fact that Westeros is currently leaderless.

(45:44) It apparently has not occurred to this group of feudal lords and ladies, all of whom are upset in some way, shape, or form by the King in the North killing Queen Daenerys Targaryen, that they should at some point get around to working out who’s going to be in charge.

This is such unbelievably terrible writing and plotting. After eight seasons of people fighting over power, we’ve got a roomful of people who have been intimately involved in that struggle for power, and they have to be reminded about the leadership vacuum in the only form of government any of them are willing to accept and reminded of their own agency. None of these characters are behaving like people in this scene, informed by their past experiences and their society. They are walking, talking props for Tyrion’s/the writers’ monologue.

It doesn’t matter how good the central monologue is. If every other fucking character in the entire fucking scene has to cease being a character – something in the writing has to change.

If, of course, your aim was to write a good story.

(45:54) “Make your choice, then,” Grey Worm says, referring to ‘who should rule’, and none of these people apparently have any opinions.

(46:14) Still got time for a joke at Edmure’s expense! Sorry, man, you are amongst the many, many characters who the show did real dirty.

(47:04) Sam Tarly, also here because he’s a named character.

(47:18) A full minute gag at Edmure’s expense. Seriously, there’s hardly any plot here.

(47:30) Now that we’ve seen Sam, he speaks up, and proposes another wacky idealistic notion. Democracy, am I right? But Sam’s fine, morally speaking, because he’s not actually going to fightfor it. He’s just going to put it out there as an idea, have it be laughed at, and make no follow up.

(48:24) The first person to be asked if he wants the crown is Tyrion. Why. Again, worldbuilding! The show hasn’t done much discussion of who inherits Tywin’s lands and titles. The title “Lord of Casterly Rock” is going to go unmentioned. We’re still ignoring the fact that Tyrion’s a prisoner accused of treason. No matter how nice it is to see that this group of lords and ladies aren’t going to hold Tyrion’s disability against him, it does run a bit counter to the established prejudice he faced in earlier seasons.

(48:37) The next thing that happens is someone asking Tyrion for his opinion on who should rule. Because again, this is a thing that nobody present has opinions on. “Who should rule?” is one of those obscure points of law that you can only expect a nerd to deep-dive into the archives and come back with some heavily footnoted proposal, and not a pressing and present concern for a group of feudal nobles trying to rebuild in the midst of a devastating winter and following the conclusion of equally devastating years-long war over that exact goddamned question.

It also bears repeating: why are they asking Tyrion? Tyrion, who is a prisoner (Grey Worm totally having forgotten that he’s not here to speak), and whose advice to Dany was spectacularly useless at its best.

This isn’t even Tyrion taking over through force of personality. Literally every other character present has been silenced by the writers to provide Tyrion with this one last chance to monologue.

This has been a recurring problem in this series. Over the course of the show, the showrunners have brought in some incredibly talented people! Yay! There’s some meaty stuff in this series which talented actors can do a lot with! Unfortunately, the showrunners started giving certain actors too much opportunity to show off. They gave us too much of a good thing. The desire to keep, say, Lena Headey or Iwan Rheon around another season opened up plot holes. The screen time given over for Jerome Flynn or Diana Rigg to banter cut from time that could have been used to develop the world and the story. And now, we’re resolving one of the central questions of the series – who should rule – not with a dialogue arising from the developed perspectives of the surviving cast over eight season, but with a monologue from a character and actor the writers have already heavily favoured. At the expense of every other character in the scene, and therefore every other actor.

(48:45) Tyrion confirms that it has been weeks since Dany was killed. Weeks. And nobody has an opinion about who should rule. Nobody’s done anything about it. Complete paralysis. For weeks.

(49:27) “What unites people? […] Stories.” So it’s not just a monologue, it’s an incredibly on-the-nose, self-congratulatory monologue. Is this Tyrion Lannister speaking, or David Benioff and Dan Weiss?

(49:45) “And who has a better story than Bran the Broken?”

Is this a rhetorical question?

Also, “the Broken”, ugh, seriously? Must we?

(49:52) Anyway, Tyrion continues on, proving to us for the purposes of the scene that it was not actually a rhetorical question. Bran’s story in the show as a whole was so compelling that he got booted from an entire season and his supporting cast was killed off or unceremoniously seen off home mid-season. Bran’s characterisation for the last two seasons has been so flat the the character says he doesn’t want anything and this is entirely believable. Bran’s such a presence in the narrative that when Tyrion himself begged Jon to think of what he stood to lose if the Starks opposed Dany, he didn’t even mention Bran.

What have we been told here, and what have we been shown?

(50:30) “Who better to lead us into the future?” Again, is this a rhetorical question? Just because the characters got their brains forcibly shut off doesn’t mean same happened to the viewers.

(50:49) “That is the wheel our queen wanted us to break.” Was it, though? Was it really? I wasn’t hearing much about hereditary monarchies from Dany, and a bit more about people living in peace and freedom. Not much more, but mostly I’ve been putting that down to a failure in the writing to portray Dany’s agenda, rather than the narrative intentionally depicting a character whose agenda was poorly-developed.

(51:01) Somehow, this gets even more outrageous when Tyrion, who people are still listening towithout so much as a squeak of protest, says that rulers will no longer be born but elected by the nobility. Hey, we have someone here familiar with that form of governance – Yara Greyjoy, any opinions? What did you think about the last elected king of the Iron Islands? Edmure, Lord Royce, you compared letting peasants vote on rulers to be like letting animals vote, what do you think about Davos having a say in the monarchy? Or people like the recently-legitimised and ennobled Gendry?

(51:25) Tyrion approaches Bran and here we see Bran’s true worthiness to rule – he doesn’t want to, and he doesn’t care about power. So he’s definitely someone who will be careful with the power he has. We’ve seen this when Bran was so very sensitive in bringing up Sansa’s rape to her, and so very kind when telling Meera to go home because their paths had diverged. He was very careful in using his omniscience in those cases.

(51:37) Bran, who is being nominated to be king apparently against his wishes, sits there and listens to Tyrion’s speech without batting an eyelid. That’s how indifferent to power he is. And apparently how indifferent to human emotion he is.

(51:49) Unbelievably, it gets worse. Bran says, “Why do you think I came all this way?” Which implies that he foresaw these events. Which implies he foresaw the burning of King’s Landing. We don’t know when exactly he foresaw it, but with what we know about the extent of show!Bran’s powers, I think it’s a pretty solid implication that he saw the whole fucking thing.

Which means he a) saw the deaths of hundreds of thousands of people and did nothing to even try and stop it, and b) saw his brother murder someone he loved, from what he believed was genuine need (go with it) and did nothing to even try and stop it. If this is so, how is Bran not an absolutely terrible human being, both on the micro scale (refusing to step in to try and spare his brother pain) and the macro scale (how many people died in King’s Landing)?

Moreover, how is such a fatalist fit to rule? Bran foresees a flood that will strike a populated area and affect a great deal of a harvest. What does he do about it?

(52:02) Tyrion votes for Bran to be king. On what grounds does Tyrion vote? He’s a bound prisoner! Nobody’s even said yes to voting!

(52:14) Sam Tarly starts off the round of inexplicable agreement.

(52:34) It’s interesting how Tyrion’s in the centre of the shot, here. What’s actually being judged here is not Bran’s worth as king, but Tyrion’s proposal.

(53:18) Sansa here says that she still wants Northern independence. Even though it’s her brother on the throne. So again, we see that she’s not after national agency (which the North could probably expect with a Northerner on the throne) but personal agency and national separatism. I’m sympathetic to Sansa’s desire for personal agency.  I’m less sympathetic to the separatists who were happy to accept southern and Essosi help when they needed it and unwilling to give back even common courtesy.

We’ve got people from regions with historical and current reasons for desiring independence present – do Yara Greyjoy and the Guy of Dorne have any opinions on Sansa’s actions? Hell, does anyone else here have any opinions on putting a Stark on the throne when the rest of the Starks are taking their bat and ball and going home, leaving the collective family with the perks of rule and none of the responsibilities or shared duties? Grey Worm, any thoughts?

(53:56) No, stop, fuck this “broken” shit. Of all the people who should fucking well understand what it is to be defined by derogatory terms for one’s disability. Tyrion Lannister, folks. Tyrion Lannister.

(54:28) Tyrion is rewarded with the Handship, because this scene was not about Bran. It wasn’t even about Westeros. It was about Tyrion.

(54:55) Now Grey Worm has an opinion.

(55:21) Hello, Jon! Remember when you were relevant? Remember when you were a character? Tyrion comes in with the news that Jon’s been exiled to the Night’s Watch. How poetic, he’s going full circle.

But…what’s changed, here? Jon originally went to the Watch because he felt distanced from his family, acutely aware of how his very existence was an inconvenience to others, intending to make his own place in the world. Now, Jon’s being actually exiled to the Watch, distanced from his own family, because his existence is an inconvenience to others. He still doesn’t have that place in the world that he wanted. At best he’s got a second chance, but man, what a half-assed conclusion.

It also just cements in how fucking irrelevant everything about his character was. What was the point of his parentage? What was the point of his death and resurrection? What was the point of his relationships with his siblings? What was the point of his social class? What was the point of his promotion to king? What was the point of the things he learned beyond the Wall? I’ll have a few final words on some of that in a bit.

(56:02) Grey Worm wanted more than just exile for Jon, but accepted the justice of Jon’s exile. And kept him in a dungeon for weeks beforehand, despite being the man in charge, without harming a hair on his head…why?

(57:39) Once again we’re changing it up and watching Jon Snow walk places.

(58:09) Thankfully, we’re changing up the angles. We see Jon pass a few other Watchmen, we see a shot of Dany’s fleet departing Westeros. We follow Jon on the docks as he passes Dothraki. This is way better walking-places shots, because it’s not just a picture of a man walking, it’s a picture of a man walking through a setting. For these shots, the showrunners have thought about what they wanted to say about the setting as well as the person walking through it.

(58:48) Grey Worm looks down at Jon.

(59:08) The Unsullied are heading to Naath, like Grey Worm promised Missandei. Nice that the Unsullied get faces again, though.

(59:44) Jon’s siblings head out to see him off. First Sansa, who confirms she’s staying in the North. There are hugs as the Winterfell theme plays.

(1:00:41) Then we get confirmation that Arya’s not staying in the north, to the point where she does not expect to see Jon again. This is…aaaaaargh.

(1:00:57) Arya wants to find out what’s west of Westeros. Okay. That’s a thing she’s mentioned once. Compared to her seasons-long effort to get home. I said it earlier, I think the showrunners lost sight of Arya’s motivations. They saw the things she didn’t want – to be forced into various manifestations of patriarchal society, mostly – and didn’t end up tracking the things that the book version of her character very much does want. Namely, her home and her family. Even her desire for revenge is based in how much she wants her home and her family.

Having a character not tethered strongly by motivation is convenient, because you can find an excuse to put her anywhere and make her do anything. Much like Bran! But it comes at the cost of the character. Here at the end, when the Starks are splitting up, it doesn’t feel like their life ambitions are logically leading them to different places, but like the writers are intervening. This decision to go west of Westeros, this thing Arya has mentioned once, doesn’t seem like something she wants so much that she’d forfeit any chance of seeing Jon again.

(1:02:02) Bran tells Jon that he was exactly where he needed to be. I’m reading this as that Jon was needed to kill Dany. That was the point of him as a character in the show. Killing Dany. Everything was in service of killing Dany.

One, this looks like another retcon. Two, man, what a fucking cruel retcon! Destiny’s grand plan here involves them falling in love only for Jon to fucking murder her! And I’m still not seeing how Jon’s death and resurrection was a crucial step in this plan, so it’s not even a quality retcon making sense of disparate plot points.

(1:02:54) Here’s Brienne’s resolution. She’s leafing through the White Book (props to the props folk; you can see the different handwriting from page to page).

(1:03:47) We see Brienne adding to Jaime’s entry. This shows a change in Jaime’s character development and arc from earlier – where back in ASoS, Jaime writes his captures and maiming “in an awkward hand that might have done credit to a six-year-old being taught his first letters,” complete with the acknowledgement that it was Brienne who returned him to King’s Landing, in the show apparently he recounted the first capture and his ransom only. Brienne adds Jaime’s latter-season deeds in the most flattering light before finishing “died protecting his queen.”

Note how this resolution to Brienne’s story is mostly about Jaime. With bonus romanticisation of the Jaime/Cersei relationship. The show never got how messed up that dynamic was.

(1:04:56) Tyrion walks through what’s presumably the Red Keep and approaches the Hand’s chair at the Small Council’s table. It’s great that the Red Keep got rebuilt so fast! Like nothing ever happened. Continuity schmontinuity.

(1:05:29) We’ve got time for one more take of rearranging the chairs. Another case of too much of a good thing. Both in the sense that we get thirty seconds of Tyrion fiddling with the chairs, and in that this joke made its point the first time and the second time.

(1:06:09) The new look Small Council enters to Tyrion at the head of the table. Tyrion’s in charge, here. At this point I don’t think it’s much of a stretch to say that Game of Thrones is centrally a story about Tyrion Lannister’s rise to power. Which is certainly a decision that the adaptation made. Just one that doesn’t look all that much like A Song of Ice and Fire.

(1:06:15) Bronn’s back, re-emerging from his plot hole one final time. Like he never threatened to kill Tyrion at all.

(1:06:17) Sam’s in a maester’s robes. Like he’s even a maester. What about his Watch position? Who knows?

(1:06:27) Sam presents Tyrion with a book entitled “A Song of Ice and Fire.” Hey, that’s the name of the books! Apparently it’s a history of the wars following the death of King Robert. Which is…not actually the A Song of Ice and Fire we’re following, which is about a bit more than the War of Five Kings.

(1:08:04) No word of Drogon. So Bran leaves the business of ruling to Tyrion while he goes looking for dragons. He wasn’t kidding about not caring about power. This is getting off to a great start that will in no way result in the same Robert Baratheon-y indifference to running the country.

(1:08:22) Confirmation that Pod was knighted and is now a member of the Kingsguard, just tying up these loose ends.

(1:08:57) A bit of expositing about Bronn’s new title. He is indeed the Lord of Highgarden. Master of Coin, too. Makes sense, makes sense. Not.

(1:09:52) We back out of the meeting as the new Small Council starts on solving the problems of the realm (including its lack of brothels), for some bizarre reason everyone referring to themselves in the third person.

(1:10:13) The final line of dialogue in the entire series is “I once brought a jackass and a honeycomb into a brothel.” Call back! In the same fine taste as so much of the dialogue in this show. And we never do get to hear the punchline. (He asked for someone to lick honey off his ass.)

(1:10:19) Cut to Jon arriving at the Wall. There’s a bit of rubble around, but the order’s still functioning, the Wall’s still there. Where’s the fundamental change the events of the series wrought on the setting?

(1:11:03) Jon reunites with his truest friend, Tormund. Speaking of, it’s nice that someone has a buddy.

(1:11:37) Time for Ramin Djawadi’s last hurrah. It’s a Stark montage, as Jon, Sansa and Arya get ready to set out on their next adventures. I think there’s a significant structural change in evidence from the books here. In the books, Sansa, Arya and Bran are more closely in parallel. Jon’s got strong thematic connections to them, of course, but his primary parallels are with Dany.

Which isn’t necessarily a bad change until you recall how badly the show’s treated Dany. And how anemic the writing for Jon was, too.

What this final montage also emphasises is the atomisation of the Stark family, and that, that is fucking sad. This is not a montage of the Starks. This is a montage of Jon, Arya, and Sansa, starting their permanently separate lives.

Again, compared to the books, the love the Starks have for each other is one of the central themes running through their PoVs. The Starks love each other. The Starks love their home. It is grounding and centralising and helps bring out the best in each of them. This ending, where apparently these three get what they want at the cost of those familial relationships – it seems almost backwards. I’m not sure the book versions of these characters could get what they wanted out of life if it meant sacrificing the notion of their family unit.

It’s different, and it’s not a different I prefer. I have thought for a long time that the show did not show the bonds between the Starks well. I’m not surprised at the ending of the series those bonds are severed altogether.

Bran? Who’s Bran? Is he part of the family?

(1:13:40) What. Jon is paying attention to his direwolf. This is madness.

(1:14:45) It makes me very sad how alone Sansa is in this shot as she’s crowned queen. Show!Sansa isn’t a nice person by any means, but for the sake of her book counterpart…

(1:15:15) As Jon helps lead the Free Folk back north past the Wall, you can see grass starting to poke through the snow cover. The show finishes with him riding into a northern forest.

I asked this a bit more than a year ago, but what was the point of all this? What changed? I touched on it with Jon, but what is the difference in the setting? Some borders got rearranged, a different king’s on the throne, but the system remains fundamentally the same. The game of thrones goes on. The aspects of the plot that were supposed to be agents of major change, worthy of an eight-season series – Dany and her dragons, the Free Folk moving south, the Others– all got dealt with and removed from the ending with nice neat little bows and nice neat little deaths.

All that story and all it did was destroy a family.

Thus ends the recap, but I am trying to work on a wrap-up essay. A bit more looking at the forest instead of the trees, and trying to work out where the series went so, so badly wrong.

#anti got #fine toothed comb edition #cw: violence #cw: rape mention #season eight #long episode long post long face

[heartofether]

Episode 13 - Dog with a Bone TRANSCRIPT

[You can listen to the show wherever you get your podcasts, or go to our “Listen” page if you’re on desktop.]

AUTOMATED VOICE

[INCREASINGLY SLOWLY] Please state your message.

[THEME SONG PLAYS.]

VAL

Three-eyed Frog Presents: The Heart of Ether.

[THEME SONG FADES TO A STOP.]

[PHONE BEEP.]

[INT. AGENTS MAY AND JUNES’ COMPANY VEHICLE, DRIVING INTO DAUGHTLER, WASHINGTON, MIDDAY.]

[THE TWO ARE HEARD DRIVING THROUGH THE TOWN.]

AGENT MAY

This is the audio log of Operation Saturn, phase 1.2. Investigation taking place in Daughtler, Washington, 2019. Set to last for two months minimum. This is day one. Conducted by Agents May and June. All recordings are legal property of the Harper Foundation. Any unauthorized access to these recordings will result in—

AGENT JUNE

[OVERLAPPING] Does Daughtler know no God? That church is crumbling like a communion wafer!

AGENT MAY

Agent June.

AGENT JUNE

I’m just saying! You’d think for a place of worship, they’d take better care of it. Basic maintenance, maybe a new paint job.

AGENT MAY

Well, I guess the people of Daughtler aren’t particularly religious.

AGENT JUNE

Oh, not that I care. I’m an atheist. Raised in a Catholic household, which went about as well as—

AGENT MAY

Look, in the future, could you please avoid speaking over me when we’re recording important information?

AGENT JUNE

What important information? We just got here.

AGENT MAY

Well, if we’re going to be constantly on the record, I would like to maintain some level of professionalism.

AGENT JUNE

Ahh. Hate to break it to you, bud, but if you expect me to shut up for this whole mission, I think you will be greatly disappointed. I am, you see, constantly burdened by great ideas—trust me, it’s exhausting.

AGENT MAY

[SARCASTIC] I’m sure it is.

AGENT JUNE

[AFTER A BRIEF PAUSE, HE SNORTS A LAUGH.] DVD rentals? Dude, who’s renting DVDs in the digital era of pirating—I mean, uh, legally buying and streaming everything online?

AGENT MAY

[DEADPAN] Nice catch.

AGENT JUNE

Anyways, where are we heading first? I’m guessing the motel?

AGENT MAY

Actually, we’re going to make a quick detour. Stop somewhere for a quick interview.

AGENT JUNE

[HE GROANS.] Seriously, dude? We have so much time to do that kind of stuff. Can’t we just, you know, relax for our first day? Settle into Weird Town, USA?

AGENT MAY

I’d like to start this mission off on a good foot. It would be valuable to meet some of the residents, see what they’re like. Besides, this particular individual is important enough that by establishing a relationship early on, it may be beneficial in the long run.

AGENT JUNE

Ugh, fine. Who is our person of the hour, then?

AGENT MAY

Actually, it’s less about the person and more about where they’re living.

[A BEAT.]

AGENT JUNE

Yeah, dude. Obviously. They’re living in Daughtler, Washington. You know, the place we’re investigating?

AGENT MAY

[OVERLAPPING] I mean their house.

Agent June, please, please tell me you know who Bernard Kelly Valencia is.

AGENT JUNE

Obviously, dude! That’s like asking a chemistry student if they know what an electron is. [THEN, UNDER HIS BREATH] Actually, I failed chemistry, so maybe that isn’t the best analogy.

But yeah. Bernard Kelly Valencia. Super weird dude that the entire town was kinda freaked by. Supposedly was well-known among the Ether community for his vast range of research conducted with Dorothy Wood. Nobody actually knows where all that work went after he and Dorothy died, though.

AGENT MAY

Actually, it’s possible some of it was left behind in his own house.

AGENT JUNE

Wait, seriously? Didn’t all of his belongings go to his son afterwards?

AGENT MAY

According to the original house plans, there’s an attic. His son, after leaving the house once and for all, never mentioned there being anything in the attic. This could mean it was just empty, but that fact would have to have been noted at some point. His son was thorough in his complaints about clearing his father’s house, from what we could find. It’s possible nobody ever even bothered to look up there.

AGENT JUNE

So you think he had something in his attic that just never got found?

AGENT MAY

That’s what the Foundation believes.

AGENT JUNE

Alrighty, then. That’s not too bad. We just break into a dead guy’s house and pillage through his attic. I mean, how hard can that be?

AGENT MAY

It’s not that simple. There’s a new tenant living there.

AGENT JUNE

Ahh, I see. Do you think they know?

AGENT MAY

Perhaps. There was a recent missing person report linked to the house—an inspector who the landlord sent out to investigate a supposed mold problem.

AGENT JUNE

Classic.

AGENT MAY

Which leads us to believe that the new tenant is at least familiar with Ether—assuming the mold problem was of supernatural origin, which is probable due to the house’s location and the report filed by the landlord describing the mold: yellow, with an odd scent.

AGENT JUNE

So, what’s our plan? Are we just going to go and ask to search the house?

AGENT MAY

Unfortunately, the Foundation couldn’t acquire a formal search warrant. We’ll have to convince the new tenant to let us in of their own free will.

AGENT JUNE

Who is this person, anyways?

AGENT MAY

Her name is Irene Gray. She’s twenty-one years old. Works as forestry aid.

AGENT JUNE

Do we know anything else about her?

AGENT MAY

Let’s just say the mold inspector isn’t the only missing persons case she’s connected to. Four years ago, an 18-year-old girl named Rosemary Quinn went missing. Officials think it’s likely she ran away. Irene Gray was Rosemary’s girlfriend. The police’s interview with Irene states that the two of them had planned on running away together not long after the date Rosemary had gone missing.

AGENT JUNE

Way to rat your girlfriend out like that.

AGENT MAY

She could have been desperate for any sort of lead, even if that meant getting herself and Rosemary in trouble. And she did get in trouble, I believe, though not with the law, per say. Irene couldn’t have known where Rosemary had gone, though. She was so emotionally devastated after the event, there was little chance she was faking it or lying to cover for Rosemary. She actually started therapy not long after.

AGENT JUNE

So, why does it matter? Did they ever find Rosemary?

AGENT MAY

Unfortunately, no. The official record states that the last place she was potentially seen was a local animal shelter, where she dropped off her cat, whose name she said was Sage. This, however, does not sync up with reports from her family claiming the cat’s name was Sir Griffin the Third, which led to some uncertainty. They had a difficult time tracking her after that, though. All they had to go off of was one potential gas station siting, but all that resulted in was another dead end.

AGENT JUNE

Uh, you still haven’t explained why any of this matters.

AGENT MAY

[FRUSTRATED] Could you just be patient for one— [HE HUFFS A SIGH.]

Look, it’s important because it’s unlikely Irene Gray will let us explore her house if we just ask nicely.

AGENT JUNE

So, we have to use bait?

AGENT MAY

It could be a mutually beneficial relationship, is what I’m saying. We both have something the other wants.

AGENT JUNE

Wait, does the Foundation, like, know what happened to that girl?

AGENT MAY

Not quite, but, potentially. I’ll show you what we have once we stop the car.

AGENT JUNE

Great! This should be interesting.

AGENT MAY

[UNDER HIS BREATH] I’m sure it will be.

[PHONE BEEP.]

[RECORDING ENDS.]

[INT. IRENE GRAY’S HOUSE, MIDDAY.]

[IRENE IS ON A PHONE CALL WITH ADEN. ON HIS END OF THE LINE, THERE IS THE LOOPING SOUND OF A BROKEN FAX MACHINE ATTEMPTING, BUT FAILING, TO PROCESS PAPER.]

IRENE

It’s a fax machine. How do you not know how to use a fax machine? I’ve literally watched you do it before.

ADEN

Well, I thought I knew! And I mean, come on, how come you get to judge me when you can’t even use your phone properly?

IRENE

Oh, my god—Aden, it’s my day off. Can’t you just look it up?

ADEN

I don’t know how to describe the problem in a way a search engine will understand. It’s too—you know—specific.

IRENE

Ask someone there, then. Carol and Julia probably know better than I do.

ADEN

Julia’s sick, and Carol’s on some important phone call. Look, I just—if we have to replace this thing and it’s my fault, I’m going to freak out—

IRENE

Okay, wait until Carol gets off the phone and then—

ADEN

[WORRIED] What if it sets on fire or something?

IRENE

[FRUSTRATED] It won’t! It’s probably just jammed.

ADEN

But what if it does?

IRENE

[SNAPPING] Jeez, dude, just go find the manual! Why are you calling me?

ADEN

[PANICKED, STUTTERING] Because I’m panicking, alright? Look, ever, ever since the mold incident, I’ve been so scared constantly of everything. Every tiny thing that happens feels like it’s the end of the world, especially because that dude’s van went missing and it’s like you guys are just constantly waiting for the police to just show up at your door—

IRENE

[HER TONE SOFTENS, GROWING SYMPATHETIC] Oh, Aden—

ADEN

[CONT.] —and you and Carol almost died, and I did nothing. Okay? I sat in my office and talked to the knitted cat on my desk while I had a panic attack and did nothing.

I just want to find some way to, to do good, to fix something, but instead I think I ruined the fax machine and now I’m just failing you and Carol, again.

IRENE

[CHOOSING HER WORDS CAREFULLY] Hey. Look, I—I’m sorry I snapped. It’s not…it’s not that big of a deal.

ADEN

[COMING DOWN, GUILTILY] No, no, you’re right. I shouldn’t have called you on your day off.

IRENE

It’s fine. Seriously, don’t worry about it. Do you need me to go down there and look at it?

ADEN

No, don’t. I’m kinda starting to calm down, and I think if I can’t find the manual, I’ll just wait until Carol gets off the phone.

IRENE

That’s a good idea.

[A BEAT.] Um, if you need a distraction or anything, we can still talk for a bit. I know how anxiety can be.

ADEN

[SINCERE] That means a lot, Irene. Thank you.

IRENE

Of course.

Is there anything in particular you want to talk about?

ADEN

[A BEAT, THEN, HESITANT] I actually have a question. I’ve been thinking about it for a bit, but if it’s too personal, you don’t have to answer.

IRENE

I mean, I think you’ve already seen me at some pretty low points, so…

ADEN

[HE CHUCKLES.] Alright.

[CAREFULLY] You said you had a girlfriend who went missing.

IRENE

[A BEAT.] Yup.

ADEN

What was her name?

IRENE

[A HESITANT BEAT.] Rose. Er, you may have seen the name Rosemary Quinn at some point, but it was years ago.

ADEN

Yeah, I don’t remember. Sorry.

IRENE

It’s fine.

ADEN

What happened to her?

[THERE’S A PAUSE.]

IRENE

[GRIM] We never found out.

For a long time, I’ve thought that she just decided she was sick of her life as it was. Ran away to start a new one without telling anyone where she went. It would have made sense—she had planned on doing it for a while. Even took cash from her savings out in chunks so nobody would be able to track her card when she did. Her mother simply wrote this off as poorly thought-out impulse purchases.

We had planned our entire future together, though, and for her to just throw it out didn’t make sense, it—well… [SHE TRAILS OFF.]

ADEN

I’m sorry.

IRENE

I thought it was her mom at first, though. Grace Quinn. [SHE SAYS THE NAME WITH VENOM.]

They investigated Grace for domestic abuse. Believed Rose ran away to escape a dangerous situation. Upon Rose not answering her bedroom door, Grace, well…broke it down. Rose had locked it before she went out the window, and her mother just—decimated the doorknob to get in. At least, that’s what the police report says.

ADEN

Jeez.

IRENE

Without the child there, however, it was difficult to prove any abuse. I had some texts. Her aunts had a couple of anecdotes. That was all, though. Grace refused to admit to anything, of course.

ADEN

[HESITANT] Was there? Um, was there abuse?

IRENE

[A BEAT.] Yeah.

ADEN

I’m so sorry.

IRENE

It was rarely ever physical, but it definitely happened.

ADEN

I mean, if Rose was trying to escape something, I hope she was safe in the end.

IRENE

[PAUSE, THEN, SOFTLY, ALMOST SAD] I do, too.

[A BEAT.] That wasn’t all, though. Grace acted really strange afterwards. When police asked what had happened the night before, she said she couldn’t remember. Seriously, she didn’t have any concrete details. She said she had just woken up that morning and Rose was gone, but her story kept changing in little ways. It was disorienting.

She seemed…paranoid. Jumpy. Confused, even. Angry, but her anger wasn’t directed anywhere. I might have felt bad for her if just the thought of her hadn’t made my blood boil. I mean, I imagine your daughter going missing has gotta have some sort of effect on you, even if you’re not on good terms with her.

Grace wasn’t entirely there, though. Looking back, it’s a lot more clear. I…know some things, I didn’t know back then. I just, I wonder what was really wrong with her. I haven’t talked to her in years. Certainly not about to start now.

ADEN

I mean, I kinda sympathize with her, but also, she doesn’t sound like a great person.

IRENE

Oh no, she’s horrible. I know I should feel some remorse for all the awful things I’ve said about her, but I don’t. Not really.

When Rose first went missing, I became blinded by rage. I screamed at Grace when I saw her. Cursed in her face. Said it was all her fault, because I was—well, I was scared, and I had no other explanation. My dad had to drag me away before I attacked her.

ADEN

Jeez, Irene.

IRENE

I’m obviously better about my anger management now. Therapy at least did that for me.

ADEN

I mean, I get it. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you.

IRENE

Yeah. Um, yeah. [IT SOUNDS LIKE THERE’S SOMETHING ELSE SHE WANTS TO SAY.]

Thanks, Aden.

ADEN

Of course. If you…I mean, I know it’s been a while, but you can always talk to me about it. I’ve said that before, but, y’know.

IRENE

I appreciate it.

[A PAUSE.]

ADEN

I think Carol’s call ended.

IRENE

[TEASING] And did the fax machine catch on fire?

ADEN

[HE LAUGHS.] No. No, it did not.

[IRENE LAUGHS. ANOTHER PAUSE.]

IRENE

[MORE SERIOUS] Aden?

ADEN

Yeah?

IRENE

I’m…I’m working on something. It’s a personal project.

ADEN

[CAUGHT OFF GUARD] Oh. Okay.

IRENE

I don’t think I can tell you what it’s about, but…just so you know. I mean, I trust you, so.

ADEN

That’s—um, that’s fine. Uh, let me know if I can help at all?

IRENE

Sure. I’ll talk to you later.

[AS THEY SPEAK, THERE’S APPROACHING FOOTSTEPS ON ADEN’S END OF THE LINE.]

ADEN

You, too. Thank you again for talking.

IRENE

Not a problem. Bye.

ADEN

Talk to you soon!

CAROL

[IN THE DISTANCE] What did you do to the damn—?

[PHONE BEEP AS ADEN HANGS UP. IRENE SIGHS.]

IRENE

[CONFUSED] Oh, uh. Didn’t realize my phone was recording. [MUTTERS] When did that start? Guess I turned it on at some point.

[A BEAT.] Well, Rose. I’m talking to you now. Not just some figment of you in my head, but, you.

I know you’re going to hear these. I don’t know when, but you will. Of course you will.

[A BEAT.] Only problem is, I’m kind of at a dead end. My only lead so far is a mysterious recording that popped up on my laptop with no explanation. I have no idea how any of those files got there. Do I just have to wait until whatever weird force that gives them to me decides to throw one my way?

It’s like gambling at that point. I don’t know when I’ll get something or if what I find will be helpful or not. I mean, hell, I could get a new file on my computer and it’ll just be some voicemail I sent you sophomore year about baking brownies. Who knows what I’ll find or when I’ll find it?

I have to figure out something more reliable. Maybe figure out where the recordings are coming from, and if I can use whatever it is to my advantage. Or, I don’t know, Phoebe is coming over at some point to look in my attic. Maybe I should just—

[THERE’S A KNOCK AT THE FRONT DOOR.]

IRENE

…huh. Wasn’t expecting anyone.

[IRENE IS HEARD GETTING UP AND WALKING TOWARDS THE DOOR. AS SHE APPROACHES, THE AGENT'S MUFFLED ARGUING IS HEARD, GROWING LOUDER AS SHE GROWS NEAR.]

AGENT JUNE

[MUFFLED] I'm just saying, it could be pretty cool, you know? I'm all like, "Ooh, ahh, no, tell us what we wanna know, and you're like—"

AGENT MAY

[MUFFLED, OVERLAPPING ] June, you're too impressionable by all of these movies that you watch.

[IRENE OPENS THE DOOR, BUT THEY CONTINUE AS IF SHE ISN'T THERE.]

AGENT JUNE

[CONT.] No, no, listen. It could be great, it could be great! We could like, stand back to back, and like, ooh, finger guns—

AGENT MAY

No, I'm not doing finger guns!

IRENE

[OVERLAPPING] Um, can I help you?

AGENT JUNE

[TO AGENT MAY] Okay, but just try it—

AGENT MAY

[HARSHLY CUTTING HIM OFF.] Yes, actually. Is this the residence of Irene Gray?

IRENE

[SKEPTICAL] Who’s asking?

[AGENT MAY IS HEARD FLASHING HIS BADGE.]

AGENT MAY

We’re Agents May and June of The Harper Foundation. We’d like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.

IRENE

The hell is that?

AGENT JUNE

Ah, see, that’s the point: you’re not supposed to know. [A BEAT.] I mean, well, we do leave kind of cryptic ads in the local paper sometimes, but, still.

AGENT MAY

[UNDER HIS BREATH] Agent June.

AGENT JUNE

What? I don’t choose to put those weird ads there!

IRENE

[UNIMPRESSED] …so, what, you’re secret agents?

AGENT MAY

If you’d like to call us that. May we come in?

IRENE

Why?

AGENT MAY

We just need to ask you about a few things. I promise it won’t be long.

IRENE

…are you going to, what, search my house?

AGENT JUNE

You got something to hide?

IRENE

[DEFENSIVE] No! I’m sorry that I value my privacy.

AGENT MAY

We’re not searching your house right now. This will be much easier for all of us if you comply, Ms. Gray.

IRENE

[SHE THINKS FOR A MOMENT, THEN, DISGRUNTLED] Fine.

AGENT MAY

Thank you.

[IRENE IS HEARD LEADING THE AGENTS INTO HER HOUSE, CLOSING THE DOOR BEHIND THEM. THEIR FOOTSTEPS ARE HEARD AS THEY ENTER.]

AGENT JUNE

It’s a nice place you got here. Oh, wow, did you paint that yourself?

IRENE

It was a gift.

AGENT JUNE

Ah, gotcha, gotcha.

[THERE’S A PAUSE AS THEY STOP WALKING.]

IRENE

Well? Take a seat. Be my guest.

[AGENTS MAY AND JUNE ARE HEARD SITTING AT THE TABLE. THERE ARE TWO LOUD THUNKING NOISES, AS IF SOMEONE IS HITTING THE TABLE.]

AGENT MAY

Agent June, take your feet off the table.

AGENT JUNE

Sorry, sorry.

[SHUFFLING NOISES AS AGENT JUNE MOVES HIS FEET.]

IRENE

Can I get you both anything to drink?

AGENT JUNE

There are your manners!

AGENT MAY

[UNDER HIS BREATH] You’re one to talk.

AGENT JUNE

Whatcha got?

IRENE

Um, water? I could make coffee? I also have lemonade in the fridge, but that’s for emergencies.

[A PAUSE.]

AGENT JUNE

I think I’m in the mood for an emergency lemonade. You, Agent May?

AGENT MAY

I’m fine, thanks.

[AS THEY CONTINUE THE CONVERSATION, IRENE IS HEARD GRABBING THE LEMONADE OUT OF THE FRIDGE, TAKING A GLASS FROM THE CUPBOARD, AND POURING JUNE'S DRINK.]

AGENT MAY

How long have you lived here, Ms. Gray?

IRENE

Not long. I moved here for work.

AGENT MAY

And what do you do?

IRENE

[HASTILY] I’m an engineer.

AGENT JUNE

Mm! Enjoying the area so far?

IRENE

It’s nice. The people are friendly.

[SHE SETS AGENT JUNE’S LEMONADE DOWN ON THE TABLE.]

AGENT JUNE

Much obliged.

[HE TAKES A DRINK LOUDLY. IRENE SITS DOWN ACROSS FROM THE TWO OF THEM.]

IRENE

…well? You said you had questions.

AGENT MAY

We’re here to ask you about a missing person.

[A TENSE PAUSE.]

IRENE

Which one?

AGENT MAY

Which one are you thinking of?

IRENE

[SHE PAUSES.] Are you talking about Rosemary Quinn?

AGENT MAY

[A TENTATIVE PAUSE.] You and Rosemary were close, correct?

IRENE

Why do you care?

AGENT MAY

I’m asking a question. An answer would be nice.

IRENE

[HESITANT] I knew Rose, yeah.

AGENT MAY

When was the last time you saw her?

IRENE

Um, it was two days before her disappearance, I believe?

Look, this should all be on her file. I don’t see the need to recount this all to you unless they’ve opened the case again. Hell, you’re not even cops, are you?

AGENT JUNE

Oh, don’t be that way, Irene. I know this case isn’t as recent as the other one you’re involved with, but you should be able to remember, right?

IRENE

The—

[THERE'S A LOW, EERIE INSTRUMENTAL AS IRENE'S BLOOD RUNS COLD.]

IRENE

[BLUFFING] What other case?

[AGENT MAY SLIDES A PIECE OF PAPER ACROSS THE TABLE.]

AGENT MAY

You were the last person to see this man, correct?

IRENE

I, um, I don’t know him, no.

AGENT JUNE

You’re not as good at lying as you think you are, you know.

[HE'S HEARD FLIPPING OVER A PIECE OF PAPER TO EXAMINE IT.]

AGENT JUNE

[CONT.] I mean, why lie to us about your job, anyways? There’s no shame in being a forestry aid. I’m sure it’s a lovely profession.

IRENE

Who the hell are you people?

AGENT MAY

Relax, Irene. The Harper Foundation has already taken care of his vehicle and rerouted the case so it doesn’t trace back to you. Investigators will come up with a dead-end soon enough, and nobody will know what you did.

AGENT JUNE

You’re welcome for that.

IRENE

I— [THEN, GUILTILY] I didn’t kill him.

AGENT MAY

I’m sure you didn’t. That’s not important right now. We’re just trying to give you a nudge in the right direction so maybe then you’ll be inclined to tell us the truth.

IRENE

Why? What do you want from me?

AGENT MAY

If you’d give me a moment to speak, then I can explain.

[IRENE HUFFS A SIGH, BUT LETS AGENT MAY SPEAK. HE FLIPS OPEN A FOLDER.]

AGENT MAY

Are you aware of this house’s previous tenant?

IRENE

You mean Bernard Kelly Valencia? His reputation precedes him, but I never knew the guy.

AGENT MAY

That’s correct. We believe he left something behind after he died, however. Something that could be incredibly beneficial for the Foundation. Have you found anything like that?

[IRENE STAYS SILENT.]

AGENT JUNE

[WHISPERS TO AGENT MAY] I think she’s trying to plead the fifth.

AGENT MAY

We expected such stubbornness. We’re not asking you for this for free, you know. We believe we may also have something that would be beneficial for you.

IRENE

And, what is that, exactly?

AGENT MAY

I’m glad you asked.

[HE'S HEARD HANDING A PAPER TO IRENE. MYSTERIOUS MUSIC BEGINS PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND.]

AGENT MAY

Sometime in July, the same year Rosemary Quinn disappeared, a dusty yellow bicycle was found in the middle of nowhere in Oregon. It appeared to have had a broken piece in the front where a basket was supposed to be attached. It was never brought to the police, so unfortunately, it could never be examined as possible evidence.

AGENT JUNE

Hiker who found it posted about it on Twitter, though. The guy didn’t have many followers, so it never got traction.

AGENT MAY

This photo was taken not too far from Bent. If this is Rosemary’s bicycle, it could mean that we have a possible travel path for her after her disappearance.

[A TENSE PAUSE.]

AGENT JUNE

Oh, that was quite the shift in your expression, Irene. Have we struck a nerve? [MELODRAMATIC] I guess young love tends to leave such sore, open wounds, doesn’t it?

AGENT MAY

If you let us look at whatever it is Mr. Valencia left behind, we can help you find Rosemary Quinn. It may take some time, but we believe we can determine what happened to her. We just need your help.

[THE MUSIC STOPS. THERE'S A LONG PAUSE.]

IRENE

Get out.

[SHE'S HEARD GETTING OUT OF HER CHAIR.]

AGENT JUNE

Wh—hey!

IRENE

[GROWING MORE UPSET] Get out, I said. Get out!

[AS SHE SPEAKS, SHE'S HEARD PHYSICALLY GRABBING THE AGENTS AND PUSHING THEM OUT OF HER HOUSE. WHILE SHE'S AT IT, SHE GRABS THEIR FOLDERS AS WELL, THOUGH ONE PAPER STAYS BEHIND.]

AGENT JUNE

Hey, no, stop! You can't just grab our things like that! Please.

AGENT MAY

[OVERLAPPING, STUTTERING] Hey—!

[BOTH AGENTS STUMBLE OUTSIDE. IRENE IS HEARD THROWING THEIR PAPERS OUT THE DOOR.]

AGENT JUNE

Woah!

AGENT MAY

That's confidential information, you can't keep that in your house—

[SHE CUTS HIM OFF BY SLAMMING THE DOOR. THERE'S A PAUSE AS SHE BEGINS PACING THE FLOOR.]

IRENE

Who the hell do they think they are? Do they think I’m just some sort of—some sort of tool for them to use? Do they think they can dangle Rose over my head like I’m a dog with a bone, all over some—

[SHE PICKS THE PICTURE UP OFF THE TABLE, STOPPING HER PACING]

IRENE

Some picture of a bicycle?

[THERE’S A PAUSE AS IRENE STARES AT THE PHOTO, BEGINNING TO CALM DOWN.]

IRENE

[CAUTIOUS HOPE.] Is this really your bike, Rose? Why would you tear the basket off? You loved that basket. [WANDERING INTO DAYDREAM TERRITORY] You’d put flowers I got you in it and then ride around your block. Said it made you feel like you were in a painting.

[A BEAT.] Maybe I shouldn’t have kicked them—

[THERE’S ANOTHER KNOCK AT THE DOOR. IRENE STORMS BACK OVER TO IT.]

IRENE

[YELLING] I told you to get out! I’m not some stupid—

[SHE OPENS THE DOOR, AND REALIZES IT'S NOT THE AGENTS.]

IRENE

[EMBARRASSED] …dog.

TEEN

Well, I sure hope you’re not.

IRENE

[AWKWARDLY] Um, hi. Sorry, it’s just, someone else was just over and—

TEEN

Those two dudes? Yeah, they didn’t look very happy. That one guy, the one who had his tie undone for some reason, he had to chase one of the papers down the street. It was really funny.

IRENE

You were watching?

TEEN

Well, I didn’t realize you had a line going out your door of people waiting to talk to you.

IRENE

[DEADPAN] I’m new to the famous life.

TEEN

You’ll get used to it, I’m sure.

IRENE

Well, are you here to interview me and talk about my darkest secrets?

TEEN

That would be cool, wouldn’t it?

IRENE

[DISGRUNTLED] Not after the day I’ve had.

TEEN

Well, you see, I’ve actually been dying to meet you. My mom told me about you, said she met you at the store. I don’t know if you remember her, but from what she told me, it sounds like maybe you could use a bit of help.

IRENE

Your m— [IN SHOCKED AWE] Oh my god, are you the meat lady’s kid?

AVERY

Actually, my name is Avery.

Wanna grab lunch sometime?

[PHONE BEEP.]

[RECORDING ENDS.]

AUTOMATED VOICE

Today's quote is: "Most of the people are homesick anyway, and a little lonely, and they hide themselves in their hair and are turned into flowers."

Tove Jansson in Sculptor's Daughter, 1968.

[A PAUSE AS A HOLLOW NOISE BEGINS TO GROW IN THE BACKGROUND, FOLLOWED BY STATIC.]

AUTOMATED VOICE

[SLOWLY, AS IF STRAINED] Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I can feel it—

[THE VOICE IS CUT OFF BY STATIC.]

[OUTRO MUSIC & CREDITS PLAY.]

[AN EXTENDED PIANO VERSION OF THE NIGHT POST’S OPENING THEME PLAYS IN THE BACKGROUND.]

NIGHT POST PROMO

Hello there, citizen. You’ve lived in Gilt City for a while now. Maybe you’ve wondered, when you wake in the morning and retrieve the letters tucked neatly into your postbox, just where your mail comes from. It comes from the Night Post, of course. Those faithful couriers deliver it while you’re sleeping--all the better that they stay out of sight, and keep the unseemly strangeness that follows them out of our city, in the Skelter, where it belongs.

Ahem. If, for some reason, you’d like to know more about Gilt City’s conscripted couriers and the burden that chose them, their secret hopes and fears, the ancient, untamed threats that hound them on their nocturnal journeys--you have only to listen. The Night Post is a supernatural audio drama by an all-LGBT team, delivered weekly, in dead of night, to wherever you listen to podcasts.

Find answers at nightpostpod.com.

#heart of ether transcripts

[screechthemighty]

FRICK I WAS GONNA WRITE THAT ESSAY ABOUT KRATOS AND VIOLENCE IN THE COMICS...this is going to be disjointed as hell, but @starlightbebright here you go. Under a cut for length as usual.

Okay, so, what brought this to mind was me reading the synopsis for the next (final??) issue of Fallen God. The description reads as follows (emphasis added by me):

For as long as he has been the Ghost of Sparta, Kratos has been a tool of violence for others. In a desperate attempt to reclaim control of his future and find peace,  he led far from the lands of his ancestors only to find himself exactly where he was foretold he would be. How does one escape the torment of predestination? Does Kratos rail against the inevitable or once again embrace fury to fell his foes though it means he will be forever damned? What will be the fate of the fallen god?

So, the stuff about fate all makes sense to me. Yes, it does suck for the guy who doesn’t want to be violent anymore to be dragged back into violence over and over. It’s the insinuation in the highlighted line--that killing a giant monster that is actively threatening people would damn him again. Like it’s on the same level as revenge-killing an entire pantheon or being so caught up in bloodlust that you accidentally murder your wife and daughter. And this isn’t the only time this has happened, either. In the other tie-in comic (same author, BTW), Kratos regularly tests himself by seeing if he can avoid fighting in threatening situations, including letting himself get mauled by wolves (something I bet Faye is real thrilled about) and hesitating to intervene when a beserker is actively murdering someone...then being pissed that the guy being mauled had the audacity to be in danger around him, therefore making him commit acts of violence out of pity. There may be more, but I was too lazy to re-read the whole thing, so those are two instances early on.

(Kratos also says “damn you to hell” in that comic too, which, I’m just gonna say it, is a whack-ass thing for an ancient Greek to be saying IMHO, bUT...)

Now, some might think, “But, Screech, this fits with his character, right? He came out to Midgard to avoid violence and live a more peaceful life and all, right?” Yes, definitely true! But here’s the thing: in the game, the main source material, the thing by which I measure tie-in canon, Kratos has no problem with violence. He actively tells Atreus that he might have to kill to survive, and when he’s killed Magni, his response is not morose self-flagellation. It’s simple and, in my opinion, a correct assessment of the situation: “I defended us. Nothing more. I fear no judgment.” The issue Kratos has is excessive violence, like when Atreus stabs a wounded and unthreatening Modi in the neck out of anger, not to defend them. Or when Atreus continues attacking the already-dead troll and loses his temper. You know, the kind of behavior that got Kratos into trouble in the first place.

Okay, so, maybe it’s because he’s relying on his Spartan Rage? That would make sense; after all, it’s the state that gets him into such a frenzy that he could lose control and do something stupid. I’d call that fair enough too, except neither comic clarifies it’s about the rage, only the fighting. Maybe I’m supposed to intuit that it’s the rage he’s specifically avoiding but there’s two problems. First, again, Kratos is avoiding all violence in the comics, not just his rage. Second, from what I remember, there’s really nothing in the art style to differentiate enraged Kratos from regular Kratos, so as far as I can tell, he’s just doing all of this without going super saiyan, so he’s not even using his rage. And again, going back to the game, he’s perfectly fine using his Spartan Rage. It’s a constantly usable gameplay mechanic and he never seems to beat himself up for using it when it’s prompted for plot reasons (like the Baldur fights). Atreus has even seen him do it before, and Kratos treats it as a dangerous but useful tool when talking to him at the house (”Anger can be a weapon, if you control it”). And you could argue that maybe it’s something he grew more comfortable with by the time Faye died, but comics!Atreus doesn’t seem to be too much younger than he is in the game, so there’s way he got over that distaste in like...a year or two at most.

There’s only one time in the game canon where Kratos seems distressed by violence he’s actively committing, and that’s the fight against the bridge keeper in Hel. I assume this is because he started a fight against an enemy who had done nothing to him and ended up violently mutilating him rather than simply defeating him, all while using the blades that murdered his family. It’s understandable that he’s visibly shaken the whole scene because while his reasons for killing the bridge keeper are legitimate, it’s the closest he’s come to being his old self in a long time. All of those elements make sense...and they are also almost entirely lacking in the Midgard-era comics. The Blades are basically a passive antagonist in Fallen God, but that’s only one element of many, and it still doesn’t fix my other issues.

tl;dr: The comics utterly lack a line between acceptable violence and unacceptable violence, which is not only just kind of a weird way to treat violence (and I say this as a borderline pacifist), but it also makes no sense with Kratos’s character as we see him in God of War 2018.

#god of war #b is for boy is still the best one

[thatblondeperson]

TimSteph, taking care of chronic injuries!

Hey look, another ask that got buried! Sorry friend!!!! 

This is all preboot, RR/Batgirl era.

Ok so Tim is super extra imo when it comes to treating any kind of sickness, injury, ANYTHING. He’s the type of guy who will go to CVS and buy out the entire “cold + flu” aisle as soon a Steph gets a runny nose. He absolutely drowns her in cough drops and tissues. I can see him being extremely attentive as well. Like bringing blankets and pillows around the clock, happy to carry her from point A to point B, almost insisting to do so on occasion, and just sitting with her for as long as she desires/needs company. He absolutely pays no mind to germs. Steph can cuddle all she wants.

Steph is similar but less extra. She’s got some more classic home remedies that Tim doesn’t have. She absolutely would baby the hell out of him if he got sick though, and probably more often than not she has to put her foot down on him trying to patrol even if he’s completely out of it and burning up. Tim has a hard time relaxing, but eventually the time is used for him to catch up on sleep. Tim getting sick is like a mini-hibernation. I can see Alfred stepping in occasionally if they were both sick because Tim’s an absolute mess, and Steph can only do so much before she gets wiped out. They’re hopeless and completely out of service if they’re both ill at the same time. Error 404: Dorks not found. 

Chronic injuries are a constant process. Steph obviously has a ton just from Black Mask alone. I’m sure she gets aches and pains on the regular due to the severity of the torture she experience. Power drills would leave some lasting abdominal pain for sure. Hell, I wonder if it makes cramps worse for her? It could in all honestly. She may need serious pain meds during that time of the month which are of course always kept on hand. On top of that, the physical trauma definitely left endless mental trauma. No question about it. Not to mention that time she got lightly shot in the head. I say lightly because I forgot this was a thing because they don’t really address it again. I imagine that would cause occasional headaches/migraines, and I’m sure Tim likes to run a scan every now and again to make sure there isn’t any lasting damage. And of course, we return to the medicine cabinet for more pain pills. (Thank you @incoherentbabblings for reminding me of the gunshot.)

I headcanon that both of them get nightmares on almost the regular. They’ve both got it set that if one of them is in the middle of a bad nightmare, the other just holds them close, doing whatever they can to soothe them until the calmness sets back in. The nightmares get more spaced out some time after they move in together because I think the constant safeness of having someone beside them every night would eventually help them both sleep through the night better. It is hard to get back to sleep though. Both of them have been put through the ringer, they’ve both seen death of loved ones up close and personal, and I imagine a lot of what they’ve experienced is still very vivid and intense for them.

Tim’s got his own fair share of recurring pain. The boy doesn’t have a spleen and tbh I don’t know how he’s not getting sick more frequently. But extra precautions need to be taken to keep him from getting infections when he gets any kid of open wound, thank GOD Steph is a nurse. Tim has to be kept pretty healthy though if at all possible, which brings us back to my previous headcanon about him not caring about germs when Steph is sick? Yeah, not his smartest move, but Tim’s an idiot and forgets that he’s fragile. 

Both of them have regular joint issues. They’ve dislocated enough things for just about everything to make awful clicking sounds now and again. Steph doesn’t have as much regular muscle pain, she’s far more flexible than Tim is so she stays pretty loose and limber, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have to work at it every day. Steph does yoga as a part of her routine. She gets Tim to join sometimes but he’s not very good at keeping up with it. He’s flexible too but not to her level, and he locks up easier if he’s had an especially tough night. They both try to put the time in to exercise when they can, spotting each other, keeping a routine going, because given how much they both get beaten and battered on the daily, if they don’t keep up with muscle pain, it’ll just get worse. On bad days when the pain makes any mobility difficult, massages ensue. They’ve got at least 15 ice packs in the freezer at all times, and a stack of heating pads in the medicine cabinet. And if all else fails, a nice hot bubble bath never hurts. With Epsom salts and everything. Steph likes to add a touch of lavender oil.

Immediate injuries they’re both very good at treating. Steph obviously has more technical knowhow, and she is the most medically trained of all the Batfam members, but Tim is detail oriented and good at focusing when he needs to so he can keep up just fine. They’re both good at stitches and general wound treatment, but Steph is better at consistent treatment. Tim will absolutely forget to switch out his bandages or clean things because his brain is soup and he cannot be bothered to think about injuries when he’s too busy with 50 other things on the constant. He needs to slow down. We get right back into “more prone to infections” again. Alas. Idiot. 

They both have their fair share of mental health issues, though Tim’s tend to be more intense. Steph has her ways of managing her own mental state but Tim gets stuck often. He falls into some pretty deep depression spells, and his anxiety acts up fairly frequently. Steph has started teaching him how to meditate, but also has a list of distractions and special remedies that she can utilize if need be. Movies and tea are a good base line, though Tim’s mind gets very far away sometimes and it’s hard to pull him back out. Like he almost wants to wallow in his sadness. Often she just tries to ground him as best she can so he doesn’t get so lost that he can’t come back. Steph likes to make sure that he isn’t always using patrol as a crutch for when he’s feeling upset or tense. It’s hard to sway him away from more pain when he lets himself get so close to the edge. It breaks her heart, sometimes she feels helpless.

Steph has anxiety as well, and some psychosomatic tics from her past abuse. She needs a lot of reassurance and gentleness when her mind starts racing. She’s still prone to trust issues, even now when she’s surrounded herself with stable people. She’s been let down and she fears losing her steady ground sometimes. Tim, let’s face it, hasn’t been the most reliable in the past, but I firmly believe that with some growing up he’d step up to the plate and try to be a solid home base for her to the best of his abilities. He’s not going anywhere anytime soon. He’s very good at being gentle. That’s canon as fuck. I will die on the hill that Tim is as delicate with Steph as one would be with a priceless porcelain heirloom. Fight me, the boy would never intentionally try to physically or mentally hurt her. He tries so hard to reassure her but I thinks he feels a little helpless sometimes too. Some of her trust issues are his fault, and he can’t just snap his fingers and reverse his mistakes. He tries his best, but there will always be scars. 

All in all, I think they’re both very tender and caring with one another. They’re both beyond broken sometimes, and they are a mess and a half. But they know each other, they know each others pain and sadness and I think once they got back together they’d settle very easily into a care routine. Both of them are carrying the weight of countless consequences and mistakes and hardship on their shoulders. Pain is just a side affect that comes with carrying so much baggage, but it’s a little easier to manage when they have each other for support. I do think some of it would get easier over time, and my wish for them is that they can move somewhere just outside the city, maybe by a lake. Far enough away that things are quiet, but not so far that they would completely leave the hero gig behind. I agree with the consensus that neither of them could fully quit. Tim would just sink into the background, but Steph would be out there in the field for many years. Justas long as they have somewhere safe and comfortable to return to, I think they’ll both be just fine. Plus smooches are the best fallback medicine for all ailments and we all know that they never run out of those. 😘💋

THANK YOU FOR THIS ASK! More than half of this was not anything to do with chronic injuries but fuck it. We’ve tapped into the hurt/comfort section of my brain and there is a lot of material there to work with. Idk when you sent this in but I hope it wasn’t too long ago. I hope this answered more questions than you ever intended to ask. 💜❤

#TimSteph #tim drake #stephanie brown #robin iii #spoiler #robin iv #red robin #batgirl #batfam #batfamily #dc comics #dc #batman #personal #ask tbp

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter six: the black night

Sam and Alex spent about an hour of that first day in Germany there in the hotel room, away from the world, and with only each other. Neither of them were fatigued from the overnight flight. She had considered on taking her journal out for herself and for a drawing of something, much like how she made a special drawing for the show in England. But she had no idea if she should share her work with Alex, especially when he caught a glimpse of her doodling a sunflower on the inside of the journal's cover.

He sat next to her on the bed, in his little shorts, white socks, and his Gary Moore shirt, and with his legs pulled up a bit, and his hands right between his thighs. She gasped at his looking on at what she was doing and she covered up the doodle with her hand. He in turn gasped in response to that. She realized that he had seen her art but he hadn't known that it was actually her.

“Is it okay if I have a peek?” he asked her in a small voice and with his eyebrows raised which enlarged his deep eyes a bit.

“It's—It's kind of private, though,” she told him.

“I liked it, though,” he confessed, still in a small voice. “Basquiat died a few weeks ago, so I like to see another artist ascend to the position of greatness at some point.”

“I'm no Basquiat, though,” she insisted.

“Well, yeah. Every artist is unique. Basquiat was one of a kind—and even from a small sliver of a glimpse into your art book here, I can tell that you yourself are one of a kind. And that little thing you were drawing just there piqued my interest a bit. So—” He bowed his head and he raised his eyebrows even more, which softened his face to that of a young boy. “—is it okay if I have a little peek?”

He then lifted his head.

“I mean, it's only fair. You got to see the beginnings of our new album—twice! You're also seeing the transition of eras between albums.”

She swallowed and she leaned forward a bit to make sure that they were alone in the hotel room: Greg had gone off with Eric and Louie to have breakfast, while Chuck and Tiffany went out somewhere.

She then moved her hand out of the way to show him the little sunflower.

“Oh! Have you seen the painting that Vincent van Gogh did? The one of the sunflowers?”

“I have, yes! A few times, actually! It's—probably one of my favorites from him, to be honest.”

His face then lit up and he snapped his fingers.

“You know—we are in Europe, and on the western side of the Iron Curtain no less. It's not like we're back on the West Coast where you kind of have to set aside a whole few days just to go from L.A. to some place in Oregon or wherever. We can get on a train and go up to Frankfurt and visit a museum.”

“Would you take me there?” she gasped at that.

“Samantha, this is Europe,” he told her. “Ever since the war ended, they've been all about a revival of culture here. So—you know, I don't really wanna sit around here in my shorts and watch German TV all day long, either. I know you don't, too.”

“I don't,” she confessed with a shake of her head.

“Well, then.” He clicked off the television and he stretched out his long lanky legs before him. “Let me put some pants on and we'll catch the next train up to Frankfurt. It's only a few hours anyways.”

“Maybe we can go up to Copenhagen, too?”

He stopped. “If there's time today, we shall see.” He flashed her a wink and then he swung his legs over the edge of the mattress, and he walked over to the bathroom with his jeans. Sam closed her journal and she tucked her pencil right up next to the spine as she set it off to the side on the bed cover. She climbed off herself to put her shoes back on; soon he came back out with his black hair a bit more frizzy than she had seen before and a big silver skull ring on his right hand.

“I can see you being a continental of sorts, Alex,” she confessed.

“A continental?” he laughed.

“Yeah. I mean, you're smart and you're in touch with the world at large, and you like art, too.”

“I dunno,” he said with a shrug, “I feel like if you're considered a continental, you actually have to hail from the continent of Europe. Remember, the last name is not only Jewish but it's Eastern European.”

He adjusted the big ring on his right ring finger: it almost looked too big for his hand.

“Why a skull?” she chuckled at him.

“Why not?” he asked as he flashed it to her. “It's actually a symbol of life. Like a carpe diem—a reminder that the clock is ticking for me and for all of us. I also wanna think for myself, too. I've also got it on my right hand because I ain't married.”

“Mr. Swinger,” she teased him, and he scoffed at that. “You are in fact a continental!” She picked up her purse and slung it over her shoulder.

“I've got a bit of money on me,” he assured her. “It's not a lot 'cause of the whole exchange rate and everything, but it's better than nothing, though.”

“I've got money, too,” she told him as they stepped out of there and into the hallway. He shut the door and tucked the room key into his front pocket.

“Remember if someone asks us, we're just hanging out together,” she told him as they walked on to the lobby and the front doors.

“Well, yeah, of course.” He chuckled at that, and they kept on going to the sidewalk outside. Chuck and Tiffany strode back into the hotel right then.

“Where you guys going?” he asked them in a big jovial voice.

“Frankfurt,” Alex promptly replied. “Taking the train up.”

“Have fun, kids,” Tiffany said with a smile on her face.

A beautiful but gray day there in Bavaria: Alex peered up to the sky overhead with his eyes squinted and his lips parted a bit as if he yearned for a glass of water.

“Think I could've brought a jacket with me?” he wondered aloud; the hazy sunlight made his smooth skin appear even more smooth than before. The little tuft of gray almost stood straight up over his brow.

“Nah, I think we'll be fine,” Sam assured him as she took out her sunglasses from her purse and put them upon her face. They walked side by side down the sidewalk: right at the corner was the sign to the train station, across the street and down the block from there.

“The trains around here run like clockwork,” he told her as they awaited at the corner, “especially those in Switzerland.”

“Like literal clockwork over there,” she said with a grin on her face.

“Exactly!” he chuckled at that. “They're nothing like the trains or the buses back in the States.” He ran his fingers through his hair, and especially through his gray stripe. “Think it's time to dye my hair again.”

“Why's that?” she asked him.

“To rid of this little thing of gray on my head.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“I kinda like it.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. It's interesting. Like, why is it in a single little plume upon your head like that and not all over?”

“I wish I knew,” he confessed and they crossed the street together. Once he had caught up to her, he spoke up again.

“A few years back, I was brushing my hair and I happened to look down to the sink, and I saw a gray hair there. I picked it up and I wondered where it could've come from. So I showed it to my mom and she goes, 'oh, it's probably from your dad.' But my dad's completely and totally bald, though. He hasn't had hair on his head since before I was born—at least that's according to her, anyway.”

“Wow.” Sam was stunned by that.

“Yeah, and soon another one grew back there.” She thought of the nickname she, Aurora, and Marla had given him at the Legacy shows: the boy with the pearl in his hair. “And, you know that whole thing where you shouldn't pluck gray hairs because more will grow in their place?”

“Sort of, yeah.”

“Well, my mom told me not to do it for that very reason. What did I do?”

“You plucked that one?”

“Yeah. Next thing I know, I got a whole little pocket of gray right there in a few months time.”

She laughed at that.

“And yeah—I have to confess, I'm particularly self conscious of it.”

She stopped laughing right then.

“Aw. Really?”

He nodded his head at that with a downcast look upon his face.

“It makes me look old, you know?” he continued with a lean into her own face. “Like, I'm nineteen looking on at my twenties soon. I shouldn't be going gray yet.”

“But I like it, though,” she insisted. “Like I said, it's interesting.”

He shrugged at that. “I've had people ask me if it's a birthmark, but who knows, really.”

Sam thought about the conversation that she had had with Aurora and Marla about that little pearl of gray, about the boy with the pearl in his hair. She couldn't exactly recall everything about it as he held the train station door for her.

“Thank you, dear gentleman,” she told him as she took off her sunglasses before she headed inside.

“Herr Skolnick and Fraulein Shelley,” he corrected her as he shut the glass door behind them. “That's the only German I know so far. That's according to this guy Louie talked to while we were in there.”

“Pronounced 'froy line', you said?” she asked.

“Yeah, he broke it down for the two of us, too. It literally means 'young lady.' Kind of ironic because I'm actually younger of the two of us.”

Sam giggled at that and he led her over to the ticket booth, which stood wide open just for them.

“Two single adults to Frankfurt, please—round trip,” he kindly told the man, and he took his wallet out from his front pocket.

“A combination for you and your girlfriend, too?” he asked Alex in a light German accent, and he was taken aback by that.

“Oh, she's not my—” He gestured to Sam.

“Couples get half off on the midday rides,” he continued, and Alex and Sam looked on at each other with knowing glances.

“Uh—yeah, we'll take it,” Alex told the man; and he snickered at the whole notion. “Good idea, right, babe?”

“Yeah, baby!” Sam went along with it. Alex took out a couple of euros from hiding and the man inside handed him a pair of tickets.

“For the Amerikanischer and his kleine Dame.”

“How do we say 'thank you'?” he asked the man.

“Danke schoen. 'Please' is bitte.”

“Oh, right, right, right! Uh, yeah, danke schoen.” He gazed on at Sam with a bemused look on his face, but she couldn't help but giggle at him as he handed one of the two to her. All the way towards the platform, she resisted laughing more at him. They stood there in anticipation of the train and the gray sky overhead darkened a bit with more rain clouds. Alex cupped a hand to his mouth to stifle his laughter. Sam felt her face grow warm from the feeling.

“Man,” he muttered and he shook his head.

“For real. I was not expecting that.”

He snickered some more.

“Couldn't beat that with a stick, though,” he said in a low voice.

“No way.” Sam thought of Bill right then and his incessant penny pinching. At least there she was headed into an art museum in central Germany and not a little market the size of someone's house down the street from her. There was a good reason with Alex: if she put any thought into Bill's behavior, it would ruin her day out with Alex himself.

“I got us the parlor car, by the way,” he told her; far off to his left, the silver train turned the corner on the railroad.

“Oh, you big stud!” she joked as she knew the man in the booth was still in earshot from there. He chuckled at that. The train rolled up before them and they soon boarded it one after the other. They were greeted by the warmth and comfort of the parlor car: nothing like the parlor cars back in the States for sure.

They took the spots closest to the window, but before she took her seat there, Sam spotted a small bar tucked in the far corner of the car behind them.

“Care for some authentic German beer?” she offered him with a gesture towards the bar.

“Bitte, meine Dame,” he joked, and she giggled at him and then she stopped. “Wait, that was good. You are a continental!”

The train rolled forward and she made her way over to the heavy white stone bar tucked in the corner. The female tender with the short bob of maroon tinted black hair showed her a smile in response.

“Two glasses of—ooh, Belgian beer, please,” she said.

“Two glasses, you said?” the woman echoed in a thick French accent.

“Uh, yeah—for me and my boyfriend over there,” she told her, and she had a difficult time in stifling a giggle at that. The bartender poured her and Alex a pair of glasses of that rich dark Belgian beer; when she handed the first glass to Sam, she looked behind her to the seat next to the window and gasped.

“Oh, my god, 'e is a beautiful boy,” said the woman in a hushed voice.

“Yeah, I guess he is,” Sam told her with a shrug.

“No—cherie, listen to me. 'E is a beautiful young man. I 'ave never seen a boy so beautiful as 'im.” She turned her head back in Alex's direction: the way the gray light of the day glowed back onto his milky skin so it resembled to porcelain and onto the plume of gray upon his head, and his jet black hair appeared blacker than normal. She handed Sam the next glass of beer. “You Americans—you must take care of one another and love one another. Take good care of 'im.”

Even though Alex wasn't her boyfriend, she couldn't help but wonder how much longer they could carry the whole charade out there in Europe.

“How much are these?” she asked with a gesture to the glasses.

“Five euros, s'il vous plait.”

Sam handed her five bills and then she picked up the glasses. “Is it—merci?” she asked her.

“Oui! Merci beaucoup.”

“Uh, merci beaucoup! He's learning German and I'm learning French so it—just makes sense.”

“Right? Enjoy your ride, ma cherie.”

Sam felt her face grow warm once more as she headed back to the seat across from Alex.

“Looking—as—red as a—cherry—tomato,” he stammered given neither of them were sure the woman was within hearing range of them. Sam giggled at him and he shrugged his shoulders; she handed him the glass before she took a seat across from him.

“I should tell you that this place that we're playing at this weekend, Schweinfurt—it's a few miles from the Iron Curtain. Like the border to East Germany is literally right down the street from there. I looked at it on this atlas that my parents have before we left—it's nuts.”

“Oh, wow, really?”

“Yeah—and I saw the train route while I was getting tickets in there. It's right after Nuremberg, too. We get to Nuremberg and then we hang a left and we're in Schweinfurt. Apparently, we have a stopover there!”

“Cool! So we get to see a little peek at it?”

“Exactly. Stopover there and then it's onto Frankfurt. Beyond that is Cologne and Essen, and then Amsterdam. But that's a full day's trip, though—Munich to Amsterdam.”

“Like, something to set aside for a whole trip altogether.”

“Right! We went to Amsterdam last summer for that festival that we played—you know, Eindhoven. Beautiful there. You think Germany's beautiful. I wanted to visit the van Gogh museum but we were kinda strapped for time, though.”

“Some day,” she remarked.

“Definitely, some day.” He raised his glas to her and they made a toast to each other. They took a sip of the Belgian beer in unison: nothing like any drink Sam had had back in the States, or even the cocktails that she had with Marla back in England. This was strong and full but nothing to get the both of them drunk, however.

“Oh, my god,” she blurted out as she brought a hand to her chest.

“Yeah, that's unreal.” He gaped at the sensation and rolled his eyes a bit, and she giggled at him, and he showed her a smile in return.

Within the hour, they stopped over in Schweinfurt and Alex pointed out the window. Beyond the train station was a street: off in the distance, Sam could see the pavement recede back into the heart of the city. A part of her expected to see a full on brigade off in the distance but she knew that the Soviet Union still loomed over them, and even more so from the station there at the edge of West Germany. Indeed, she spotted two men on the sidewalk wrapped in red and black overcoats and with batons latched to their belts.

“Soviets,” Alex pointed out. “See the hammer and sickle on their chests?”

Sam took a closer look: embroidered on their chests were little medallions. Even from the train window, she could make out the shape of the hammer and sickle inside there. It almost didn't even look real, even from a distance.

“Oh, wow,” she breathed out.

“I remember when we came over here last summer to play at Eindhoven festival and Louie, Greg, and I came here to Germany first before Chuck and Eric did, and I saw one of them when we got close to the border. Probably the most surreal moment of my life. It's like 'oh my god, it's real.' You know what I mean?”

“Oh, yeah!”

Those men merely stood there on the sidewalk as if they awaited something. But within time, the train rolled out of the station and westward to Frankfurt. But at that point, it was almost three in the afternoon, which meant they only had a couple of hours to relish in an art museum.

But there was absolutely nothing in the world that Sam could get past and that was the big beaming smile on Alex's face the whole rest of the afternoon.

The cold expression that she had grown almost all too familiar with had completely vanished and gave way to one of true joy. In those few hours as they walked along the cobblestones and visited a bakery for a bite of late lunch of open faced sandwiches and Black Forest cake, and then they continued on in search of the arts to nourish themselves further, every time Sam looked over at him, he looked up at all the buildings around them with a sweet smile plastered on his face. The happiest he had been up to that point, and he wasn't even with Testament right at that moment.

They were alone together in Germany and he enjoyed every moment of it.

At one point as they walked to a bookstore on a corner, she considered putting her arm around his shoulder. She had to stop herself, however: he wasn't her boyfriend.

But he certainly felt like it as she bought him a big glazed sugar cookie from another bakery.

“I'm gonna gain so much weight hanging out with you, Samantha,” he joked as he took a slow sensual bite; he rolled his eyes into the back of his head as if he experienced an orgasm.

“Get some meat on those bones,” she retorted, and the bakers laughed at that.

By the time the sun hung low over the horizon, and the gray sky began to change colors to a rich royal blue, they began back to the train station. Alex lovingly patted his stomach by the time they stepped on the platform. She had never seen him more contented as they gave the conductor their tickets before they stepped aboard. He snuggled down in the seat by the window on the right side: that time, they didn't have a table between them.

“Back to Schweinfurt!” he declared with a big beaming smile on his face.

It was the happiest she had ever seen Alex; she nestled close to him as if he was in fact her boyfriend at that point. His body was warm from the food, his face was rosy from the Belgian beer, and his hair was soft from the moisture in the gray skies overhead. Even if it was only for a few hours, she knew she had done him good that day. She had done what the bartender in the previous train wanted her to do for him.

As the train started moving, he leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes. That time there was no arm rest between them, but a bit of a divet separated their seats, so she couldn't lean all the way over to him to cuddle with him. But he was warm and full: she had to relish in the soft feeling from his body.

He gave his dark hair a little toss and he looked at her with that sweet smile still upon his face.

“Still wanna dye your hair again?” she asked him as she eyed the gray tuft over his brow. He shrugged his shoulders.

“Don't really know, to be honest,” he confessed, “after today, I just might keep it.”

“As black as the very night itself,” she whispered to him.

“As black as night—but the gray as bright as day.” He winked at her when he said that and she beamed at him.

Soon, they made their stopover in Schweinfurt and that time around, they had enough time to step off the train. Sam went on to the ladies' room while Alex made his way over to the ticket booth for a question.

She surfaced out of there when she spotted those black curls right in front of her, but without his guitar on his back.

“Hey, Joey,” she greeted him in a soft voice, and he turned his head and flashed her a grin.

“What you doin' here?” he asked her.

“Oh, just—checking the place out,” she replied; she didn't dare tell him that she was there with Alex lest he fly off the handle at the mention of his name.

“You know, we're only a little ways away from the border of East Germany,” he told her.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, I know.”

“We get any closer—goin' down this street here—we get stopped by the cops over there.” He glanced up to the clock on the far wall. “We better hustle on back to the train.”

“I should ask you what you're doing here, then,” she retorted back to him, and she couldn't resist the grin on her face.

“I'm doin' what you're doin' and checkin' the whole place out. I got nothin' better to do, to be perfectly honest wit' ya.”

“Well...” She thought about Alex in the back of the train station, and his talking to the man in the ticket booth over there.

“Well, what? You wanna mosey on back to Munich and go grab a li'l bite to eat?”

The warm, soft feeling that Alex had bestowed onto her was still powerful and she desired for more of it. “That's real kind of you, Joey, but—”

“Oh, c'mon! You're my girlfriend after all. I can't hang out with my girlfriend in Germany?”

“You have to ask first,” she pointed out with a wag of her finger. The ringing of a bell caught their attention.

“We have to get going,” he told her and he raised his dark eyebrows at her. He began towards the train outside but Alex was still somewhere back there. They were about to leave soon; she chased after Joey towards the platform.

“By the way, I should have to ask you—how'd you get so tan?”

“I got a bit sunburnt a few months ago,” he told her with a shrug of his shoulders. “It all just peeled right off and underneath was all as brown as a coffee bean.”

The soles of his shoes padded on the concrete before them and she hurried after him. She peered over her shoulder: Alex was nowhere to be seen behind them.

Joey reached out for her hand and he led her onto the parlor car of the train, the exact same car as when she and Alex rode up to Amsterdam together. He took one step onto the floor of the doorway and she followed suit. She hung there in anticipation of him. He was somewhere in there.

She would stand there and wait for him if she had to. Even if it meant blocking passengers from boarding themselves. Even if it meant throwing all of the trains completely off schedule from each other.

“Sam?” Joey called back to her.

“Coming!” she replied, and she peered out to the incoming darkness. He ducked out from the station. She recognized that little tuft of gray from afar. He craned his neck in search of her. Even though he wasn't her boyfriend, he certainly felt as such right there as he looked for her.

She waved at him so as to grab his attention. She dared not call his name given Joey was right behind her.

“Sam!” Joey called again.

“Alex!” she blurted out. “Alex!” He turned his head right as the last few passengers boarded the car in front of her. He bolted right there and ran towards her. The train was about to leave right there.

“Hey!” Alex called after her.

“Sam, c'mon!” Joey insisted and he grabbed her by the hand and he took her aboard the train. The doors closed before Alex could come on board himself. He pounded on the doors but it was useless and too late at that point. The train rolled forward right then and there.

“HEY WHAT THE FUCK!” he shouted on the other side of the glass; his big voice echoed over the train. Joey dragged her to the seats on the other side of the train, unbeknownst to it all. Sam stood there before him, unsure as to what to do next. She knew that Joey was turning a blind eye to him.

“HEY!” Alex called out and he waved his arms about. She gasped at the sight of him there on the platform with his arms straight up in the air. She turned to Joey, oblivious to what had happened.

“Oh, no,” she muttered under her breath. She knew that the next train would be there soon enough, but she still left Alex behind, and about a mile away from the border no less. At least they were still in West Germany and they hadn't crossed over the Iron Curtain at any given moment. But if what he had told her about it remained true, he was still potentially within harm's way.

“FUCK!” was the last thing she heard before the train went around the corner and away from him. Her false boyfriend left behind about a mile from the edge of the Iron Curtain, and she went with her real boyfriend at that point.

“Care for a cuppa Joey?” Joey himself offered to her with that lopsided grin on his face.

“Um—sure.” She couldn't help from feeling out the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, and especially the heavy feeling inside of her chest. She left Alex behind, but then again, it wasn't exactly her fault. The train was about to leave.

Their small white china cups of coffee soon arrived and Joey was eager for the first taste. She couldn't enjoy it however. She kept on thinking about Alex, all by himself at a strange train station. She also missed the nickname Joey had given the cups of coffee as well: she couldn't exactly enjoy that for herself, either.

It would be another hour and a half before they returned to the station in Munich, and all the while, she thought of him. She wanted to cry but she couldn't, not with Joey right there in front of her.

By the time they reached the station in Munich, it was almost nine thirty and she couldn't bear to look at everyone because she knew someone would ask her what happened. Lucky for her, Joey led her to a small stretch of grass right across the street from their hotel, one that overlooked a small dark lake; before them was a narrow cobblestone walkway and a few metal tables accompanied with spindly chairs. He gestured for her to have a seat on the chair closest to her.

“I'll be right back,” he told her, and she nodded at him. She sat there, all alone, in a foreign city, and she had no idea as to what to say to Alex when he showed up again, that is if he did. Surely he knew that she waited for him at the door. Surely he would understand.

Joey soon returned to her from across the street with two cups of water in hand, and he handed her the one in his left.

“So—you guys are—touring?” she started with a clearing of her throat; she took a sip and the cold feeling upon her tongue was all she needed to feel right then.

“Yeah.” Joey turned his attention to her, complete with a thoughtful look on his face. “By the way, you've been awful quiet lately. I don't ever recall you being so quiet.”

“Oh, it's—it's nothing,” she sputtered out. “I'm just—in awe of—everything.”

Something moved about down on the grass. She spotted that little tuft of gray hair over his brow. He flashed Joey a dirty look and he looked at her with a cold glare. Even from a distance, she could feel his anger. She took a sip of her water as he walked on over to the dry patch of grass down by the waters.

Joey gave his black curls a little toss back from his neck and he showed her that lopsided grin. He then rested the side of his head within the palm of his hand.

“God, you know—it really is just so beautiful here,” he remarked with a glance up to the black sky overhead.

“Yeah—it really is,” she said with a look right into his eyes. “Like—upstate, but more.”

“Right?” She looked into his eyes so she wouldn't have to see what Alex was doing. But she could still see him out of the corner of her eye. Joey peered over his shoulder to the cobblestone walkway behind him with his dark lips still upturned in a joyous smile.

Alex had taken his spot there on the grass not too far from them, and he leaned back onto his elbows and stretched out his legs. Sam wondered where exactly she had gone wrong there with him. She would have to go back to the room with him, after she left him there within range of East Germany to his own whims. She left him there all by himself and he had hardly any money of him to top it all off.

When Joey wasn't looking, she had to talk to him.

Joey himself downed the whole cup of water in four large gulps.

“Let me get you some dinner,” he offered her as he set the cup down on the table.

“Oh, no, Joey it's—it's okay. I'm not hungry.”

“What?” he asked her with a bit of a mocking tone to his voice.

“I really am not hungry.”

“Oh, come on,” he encouraged her. “Some brats and sauerkraut to fill your cute li'l belly—I wanna treat my girlfriend well!”

She swallowed as he stood to his feet and rounded the side of the table. She watched him go across the street to the cafe next door to the hotel: she watched him go inside.

And then she turned her head to the right. Alex had turned around so he could watch her from a distance.

She walked up to him and he glared at her.

“Hey—about earlier,” she started, and he shook his head and he brought a hand to his brow as if he had a headache. She swallowed. She knew she had messed up by leaving him there, and she had to face the music with him, but she couldn't resist the sinking feeling in her chest.

“Alex, listen, he's my boyfriend,” she insisted, and she could feel her stomach twisting itself into a tight knot. Alex stood upright then and he towered over her.

“I know,” he said, terse. “But what I can't understand is what you continually see in him, though. And you ditched me, too!”

She paused right there and her mouth fell dry as a bone, more dry than any alcoholic drink ever left it feeling in the past. He shook his head about at her and nothing could deny the look of disgust on his face, either.

“You,” he stammered and he grew angrier and angrier right there, right before her, “you—you—fucking ditched me right by the boundary to East Germany. You ditched me when you knew damn well that there are Soviet soldiers over that way. How—” His bottom lip trembled and his face turned bright pink. The look of anger on his face twisted into one of heartbreak. They weren't in a relationship but she could tell that she had broken his heart.

“How—How—How could you?” he sputtered and he buried his face in his hands. Sam lunged for him but he pushed her hands away from him.

“No!” he yelped with furious tears in his eyes. “No! No, god dammit!”

“Alex, listen to me—”

“How could you become the very thing you are up against!” His voice broke to where she could barely hear him.

“What?” Sam demanded, stunned.

“You behaved just like that sad sack of nothing you call a friend, Aurora. She made my birthday all about her—you made our day out all about you. How could you!”

“Don't insult Aurora like that!” she spat, but Alex bowed his head again and he ran away from her and back to the lobby. She fumed at him even though he couldn't see her. How could he compare her to Aurora! But at the same time, as she stood there on the grass with her hands down by her waist, she couldn't help but wonder exactly what he meant by that.

She had gone off with Joey and left Alex at the train station, right within range of those Soviet soldiers.

She did.

But he had no right to say that about Aurora, even after everything she had done in the past year.

But his tears told her a different story. He wept at the very notion itself. Joey had already gone back to his room as well. She fetched up a sigh.

She had dinner with Joey but she wasn't in any mood to be with him after the fact. The day was about Alex, and she had been caught up in her own unfinished business all the while.

“I might just go to bed early, babe,” she told him as Joey walked her back to the room. “I have a headache. You know, with all the traveling and whatnot.”

“Oh, of course,” he replied, still with a thoughtful look on his face. “Besides, we're supposed to be back in our rooms at eleven, and here it is ten thirty.” Before she reached into her pocket for the room key, Joey leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on her lips. A feeling that she had missed.

It felt so long ago, and yet it was all within her hands right there.

“I love you,” he whispered into her mouth.

“I love you more,” she retorted, and he chuckled at that.

“You have a good night,” he whispered again, and he gave her another kiss before she unlocked the door and headed inside. She set down her purse on the table: Chuck and Tiffany had gone out again, and Greg was nowhere to be seen, but Alex had already crawled into bed. The bed sheet hugged his slender body so she kept her eye on the smooth curvature while she changed her clothes right there next to the bed.

She rounded the foot of the bed so she could look into his slumbering face. But he rolled over before she could so much as peel back the covers; he breathed hard and heavy as she crawled underneath the bed sheet next to him.

“Alex—” she whispered.

But he never acknowledged back to her. Joey was in fact her boyfriend, but at the same time, she had left him there at the train station. He sniffled and she knew that he was crying again.

“Alex, listen,” she started right into his ear. “I'm terribly sorry about earlier. I know you're hurt and I hope you can forgive me. But as I've said, Joey is my boyfriend. I couldn't help it. I hope you can forgive not just me but the both of us. You also had no right to insult Aurora like that. Yeah, she's been a complete egotistical bitch since she got married, but I still consider her a friend.”

But he was silent still. She sighed through her nose and she lay back down in the bed with her arms folded across her chest as she awaited for Greg to rejoin them. The whole incident left her divided. Too divided to think things over and too tired to even consider the very suggestion itself.

But she managed to fall asleep before she got to see him walk through that door, and she awoke by the time he had climbed into bed next to her.

Alex was sound asleep himself. They had trapped her in bed, but she could slide down the bed to the foot. Careful not to wake either of them, she sank underneath the covers and she inched to the foot of the bed. She slithered out from under the covers and onto the floor.

There was one guy she could talk to about all of this as she swiped the key card to the room before she crept out to the hallway. She squinted her eyes against the low lights upon the ceiling. Held low against the black night outside there.

She adjusted the straps of her camisole before she closed the door behind her. All alone in the hallway there, she continued on towards the very end. Every time she blinked her eyes, there was that image of Alex crying. She couldn't shake the image from her mind. She had been a friend to him this whole entire time. She thought about what she had said about Aurora earlier as well. Still a friend, but she hadn't been one to her in almost a year at that point. He had more of an upper hand over that.

One other guy she knew she could visit, even when the going got tough overseas, right down the hall from them.

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