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happilyhertale · 1 year

Note

I have an aemond targaryen x reader fic idea in mind for ya! what about an aemond x fem!reader in which the two have always had a close friendship with each other since they were children, similar to alicent and rhaenyra's (reader would, of course, be the daughter of rhaenyra). the two would ride on dragonback together and do things childhood friends always did. although, that friendship crumbles after the terrible night that aemond lost his eye and the day reader is named heir to the throne.

years later, reader returns with her family as queen and with her dragon in tow. aemond and her reunite. not once did the two ever forget each other, aemond spent days and nights thinking of his best friend while reader dreamed of seeing the wonders of the world with him, maybe even more.

slight angst, fluff and smut pls? 💜💜💜

(also, I know her being queen probably doesn't make sense timeline wise but...yeah!)

Everlasting love - Aemond Targaryen x female!reader

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Author’s note: Hey you (:

This One Shot Story was requested by the wonderful @chainsawsangel💜

And is at the same time the steamy Aemond one shot as a thank you for 1000 followers 🖤

I hope you will enjoy it! English is my second language, soo.. please forgive me if I made any mistakes (: 18+ NSFW

Word count: 5.8 k

Other stories of mine

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You came into this world on a warm and radiant summer day. The sun shone brilliantly above, and the sound of waves crashing against the cliffs of Dragonstone echoed in the distance. You were the first precious offspring of your mother, Rhaenyra Targaryen, and your father, Laenor Velaryon. Thankfully, the birth went smoothly, and just a few days later, your family returned to King's Landing.

You were born not long after Aemond Targaryen, the second prince of the realm. The two of you were said to be very close as infants. Aemond was quite a restless baby and needed a lot of comfort, which often kept Queen Alicent up at night. To give her a break, Aemond was placed in the care of nurses. However, they had great difficulty calming him down and simply got used to the constant crying.

Rhaenyra was deeply pained to witness the suffering of the newborn baby, who also happened to be her half-brother. Unable to bear the sight any longer, she devised a plan to ease his distress - by placing you, a peaceful and attentive infant, in the cradle with him.

She gently placed you next to Aemond in the cradle. At first, you felt a bit annoyed when you saw him, but Aemond's crying immediately stopped. He became interested in you and studied you closely, eventually even giving a small smile. Rhaenyra was pleased to see this and watched over the two of you with contentment. And thus, the two of you rested together in the cozy cradle.

As you rested in your cradle, nestled alongside two dragon eggs, the space felt a bit snug. But every time someone tried to take one of you out of the cradle, the other immediately started to cry.

When you were just six years old, your dragon egg finally hatched in the comfort of your cozy chambers. As you sat by the warm fire, you kept the egg close to ensure your new companion would feel just as snug as it would have with its birth mother.

As you were quietly flipping through the pages of a book, you heard a sudden cracking sound. At first, you assumed it was just the sound of the wood in the fireplace. But the sound repeated itself, followed by a piercing scream that filled the air.

Startled, you looked up and saw a small dragon facing you. You cried out with joy and hurriedly crawled towards the egg. A guard came in because he was startled by your sudden cry. But you paid no attention to him, you were overjoyed. You helped your dragon to free himself from the egg. You broke down the hard shell to make it easier for her to come out. You held out your hand to her and she climbed up. The joy on your face was evident and didn't fade away.

You carried the dragon in your arms and went directly to Aemond's chambers. He was overjoyed for you and enamored with the tiny creature.

You two spent the whole evening saying "Dracarys", hoping it would breathe fire, but nothing happened. You giggled incessantly. When Rhaenyra came to put you to bed, you both persuaded her. You wanted to sleep in bed with Aemond and your dragon with you. Your mother was not at all pleased, but eventually gave in.

You cuddled up with Aemond in his bed, with your dragon nestled between you both. She lay curled up like a small kitten, adding to the cozy atmosphere.

"What are you going to name him?" whispered Aemond to you.

"Him? I think it's a girl..," you chuckled.

Aemond rolled his eyes, "Very well, what do you want to call her?"

You smiled, "I've thought of a few names... But I think Blackfyre is a good name"

Aemond chuckled, "An interesting choice... but I think it's good"

Aemond's dragon egg never hatched. Although you tried to provide him with positive encouragement by explaining that hatching is out of one's control and that some dragon eggs don't hatch at all, it was still very difficult for him to accept this outcome.

But every time you entered the dragonpit, Aemond would accompany you. He was there when you gave Blackfyre her first orders and it pleased him to see how obediently she responded.

He was also there when Blackfyre had her first meal. Each time you both visited, Aemond's happiness was palpable. As a result, Blackfyre grew accustomed to having both of you around.

And so you were with him when your brothers and Aegon surprised him with the pink dread. You were shocked that they would treat Aemond so badly. You comforted Aemond afterwards. He didn't deserve that. But he was deeply depressed. You then argued with your brothers and told them how stupid they were.

And so you sneaked into the hall before dinner. No one else was in the hall yet, but the table was already set. You quickly went to Aegon's place and saw the wine jug. You managed to catch some pee from Blackfyre in the afternoon. It wasn't much, as most of it ran down your hand, but it would do. Now you stood at Aegon's place and poured the dragon pee into the jug. You grinned. Quickly you looked around again before pulling snot up deep from your throat and spitting it into the jug as well. Hearing footsteps from outside, you quickly scurried to your seat. You hear the heavy wooden door open with a loud creak. You look at the door and smile. Your grandsire, King Viserys, came into the hall. With him were Lord Otto and Queen Alicent. Lord Otto and King Viserys seemed to be talking. Queen Alicent smiled at you.

"Hello my sweet," she said softly as she passed you. Queen Alicent was always kind to you. Often she caught you and Aemond trying to steal cakes or biscuits before dinner. But instead of telling your mother about your inappropriate behaviour, she would put on a stern face, let you keep your loot and quickly send you away before anyone else could see you. "Your Highness," you replied with a smile.

When Aemond came into the hall at some point, he still looked sad. He quietly took a seat beside you, seeming lost in thought. Soon after, Aegon arrived and took his own seat. You had been observing him attentively.

"What are you staring at?!" he snapped at you.

"Don't talk to her like that!" suddenly rang out from Aemond.

"Oooh... do you have to be strong in front of her now..." but Queen Alicent interrupted him.

"Aegon! Stop it, now!" she said sternly.

Aegon just snorted and poured himself some wine.

You slowly leaned over to Aemond, "Watch Aegon," you whispered.

"Why?", Aemond asked you irritated.

Aegon put his cup to his lips.

"I might have added some dragon's pee and snot in his wine," you said quietly.

Aemond laughed out loud, causing everyone to turn and look at the source of the noise. You held back a laugh, as you didn't want to draw attention to yourself. Meanwhile, Aegon had emptied his cup and was already pouring himself another drink. He seemed annoyed as he looked in your direction.

Aemond chuckled softly. He looked at you sweetly, "Thank you," he said softly to you. You grinned.

By the time you were ten years old, Blackfyre was big enough to ride. She was a big dragon that grew very fast. Your mother was strictly against you riding Blackfyre. She simply wanted to ensure your safety and was worried that you might accidentally slip off the dragon's back.

But it didn't stop you from riding Blackfyre. Of course you took Aemond with you. Blackfyre was the first dragon you and Aemond rode.

One day, word arrived that Laena Velaryon had passed away. She had made the difficult decision to end her life as a dragon rider during a difficult childbirth. You are now expected to journey to Driftmark to pay your respects at her funeral.

Before you left, you were with Aemond when his father, King Viserys, told him that they would travel to Dragonstone after the funeral. He said that Aemond could claim a dragon there if he was bold enough.

You quickly took hold of Aemond's hand to offer comfort. Although he didn't say anything, you could sense the hurt in his eyes caused by his father's words.

"Don't listen to him," you told Aemond afterwards, "He is indeed the king... but he is not always right. He does not know you. And of course you would be bold enough! You could claim any dragon!"

Aemond had to smile. But you still saw the disappointment in his gaze.

When you were on Driftmark for the funeral, everything happened very quickly. Aemond had no intention of travelling to Dragonstone. He wanted Vhagar. And he got Vhagar.

In the evening he sat with you in your chambers. He had promised that he would sneak into your chambers at night when everyone was asleep. But you only saw him again in the hall. In the middle of the night you woke up. Aemond was not in your chambers, but you heard loud conversations and shouting. Cautiously you got up. Quietly you went out into the corridor. You followed the voices and arrived at the hall. Everyone was gathered there. And then you saw Aemond. He was injured. A maester was sewing something in his eye. You went to him, but were held back by Daemon. He held you back with his arm and looked down at you. He just shook his head gently and pushed you carefully behind his big body. You didn't even take your eyes off Aemond.

Instead, you snuck into his chambers at night. He was lying on his bed, asleep. He had been given a lot of poppy juice, yet he had whimpered in his sleep. You climbed onto his bed and wrapped your little arms around him. He slowly stopped whimpering. You still had a calming effect on him, as you did in the cradle.

At bedtime, you made a habit of applying ointment to his scar to help ease the pain and aid in the healing process. Unfortunately, the maesters who had been assisting with this task were not gentle and caused Aemond to flinch in pain. One night, it became unbearable and Aemond was on the verge of tears. Feeling frustrated, you took matters into your own hands the following evening and took the ointment from the maester without saying a word.

"Princess. I must apply the ointment to Prince Aemond. You don't know how to do that"

"You are rough in applying it. You will not touch his scar again", you replied.

"Princess..." but you interrupted him.

"I have already successfully commanded Blackfyre to breathe fire. Would you like to feel that?", you looked coldly at him.

The maester paused. Then he tilted his head slightly and left the chambers.

Aemond sat speechless on the bed.

"You... You don't have to do this..." he finally said quietly.

"Oooh... don't be silly," you replied.

You went to the bed where he was resting, took some ointment from the bowl with your fingers, and gently spread it on his scar. Aemond had closed his good eye tightly, seemingly bracing himself for pain, but to his surprise, it didn't hurt. Gradually he opened his eye and saw you smiling at him with tenderness.

"Better?" you asked softly. He gave a small nod of his head, and from that moment forward, you diligently applied the soothing ointment that had been provided by the maester.

You also encouraged him that he is still the great person he was before the accident. You stood by his side and helped him to overcome his insecurities, even going so far as to help him regain his confidence with a sword.

In fact, you just kept hitting him with the wooden sword until he had enough of it and finally picked up a wooden sword and hit back. It was a challenging process, but you never stopped encouraging him to keep going but to continue now more than ever. To learn anew how he has to attack with the sword. At what angle the opponent must never stand so that he could see him well. And he did not give up.

During the day you encouraged him and at night you held him.

You still went to the dragonpit together regularly. But now Vhagar was with you. Together you often rode your dragons. Vhagar is bigger than Blackfyre, but not by much. Together you explored the skies. Only the rumbling of the dragons and your giggling could be heard from the air. Often you sat in the dragonpit afterwards. You had been lying in the dirt, hiding behind your dragons. But you enjoyed it. You sat there for hours and imagined all the things you wanted to discover. Where you wanted to travel. Of course you want to explore everything with your dragons. Perhaps one day you will fly to Essos. See the remains of Valyria.

When you are six and ten years old, you have been named heir to the throne. You have been chosen as the successor to your mother's throne, which comes as a surprise to you. Even though you are the eldest child, you had always assumed that your younger sibling Jace would inherit the crown. You're now uncertain about whether you're ready to take on the responsibilities of ruling as queen.

Aemond was still very close to you. You even sleep in bed together from time to time. It's just that it's felt a little different now. You had noticed that you often just look at him. As soon as you noticed it, you felt uncomfortable and your cheeks turned red.

Aemond was a little more subtle in his approach. He liked to watch you when you were asleep. When the moon shone into the room and made your silver hair glow. Sometimes he even dared to gently stroke your cheek. Just so he could see you gently wrinkling your nose in your sleep.

When you received the news that you were to become queen, you went straight to Aemond. Aemond was very happy for you, as usual. And in the evening, he surprised you. He came into your chambers through the secret passages, carrying two wine jugs.

"We must celebrate your becoming heir to the throne," he grinned at you. You had to chuckle softly.

You drank almost all the wine and lay together on your bed. Not a minute passed in silence, you talked the whole time. Until he suddenly looked straight at you, "You know... I like to watch you sleep..," His cheeks were red from all the wine, but you saw them get even redder, "..Because when you lie on this side in bed..", He pointed with his hand to the side of the bed facing the window, "..the moon shines on you... And...", he paused and you looked into each other's eyes. He sighed quitley.

"I love you... y/n.. I don't know since when... But... it feels like...", but you just kissed him.

He was irritated at first, but didn't hesitate long and returned the kiss. His lips felt warm and soft. The taste of the wine was on his lips. Your lips were sore and red when you first broke the kiss. You just looked at each other and smiled. You have not said much. Aemond's hand was on your cheek. Slowly he stroked your cheek with his fingers. His thumb gently caressed your lips. Until he leaned forward again and you kissed once more. You couldn't ignore the warmth and pinching between your thighs any longer and slid closer to him. But you broke the kiss again. You looked at each other, your breathing was rapid. Aemond gently stroked your arms. No one said anything. You looked deep into each other's eyes and somehow it seemed clear, you both wanted the same thing. Aemond kissed you gently and rolled onto you carefully. As he lay on top of you and pressed his hips against you, you felt something hard. It pressed right against your warm core. But it felt strangely good when Aemond pressed his hips against you. A soft moan came from you.

That night you sleep together. He was your first man. You were both inexperienced and so you both explored your bodies together. You undressed each other. You let your hands wander over each other's bodies. Every time your hands discovered a new spot, soft moans and gasps filled your chambers. You giggled a lot and kissed a lot more. It was indescribably beautiful. The act itself, when he was finally inside you, didn't last long. But you will never forget how much you felt connected to him all the time.

Aemond held you all night. He lay close to your back. You felt his chest against your body. How it slowly rose and fell. Again and again he gently kissed your neck.

The next morning, as usual, he was no longer there. At dawn he always left your chambers secretly so as not to be caught.

At noon a servant came to you, your mother wished to see you. When you arrived to meet her, she informed you that you would be temporarily relocating to Dragonstone. While she didn't provide any specific reasons, she did explain that this would be an opportunity for you to receive the necessary training and preparation to eventually assume the throne.

But you did not want to go.

"Mother... no... I will not leave the capital," you told her.

"Yes, you will. On Dragonstone you will be prepared to rule the realm one day"

You snorted, "Why can't I be prepared for that here? Here, I could see first-hand how the decisions of the realm are made"

You felt yourself getting angry.

Your mother had shaken her head slightly, "To understand these political decisions, you must first understand the political theories on which these decisions are based. Then you can deal with making decisions. And on Dragonstone, you don't need to fear any distractions"

Tears came to your eyes. But you refused to cry now. You knew your mother and the look in her eyes. The discussion was over.

You went to see Aemond. In his chambers you told him about it.

He simply looked at you. For the first time you could not interpret the look on his face.

"Do you want to leave?" he asked quietly.

Silence reigned in his chambers.

"I... I don't know... My mother said it would be the right thing... To prepare me for my regency... I... I don't know...", you were unsettled.

Aemond clenched his hands into fists, "But you must know if you want to go!"

Aemond was feeling very worried and anxious. He was afraid of losing you because you were the most important and positive aspect of his life.

"Then tell me to stay!" you suddenly shouted at him. You were angry. Those you don't want to hear it from tell you what to do. And the one person you wish would tell you what to do doesn't tell you what to do... that you should stay.

But he just looks at you, "You know I can't do that... I can't say that... You have to do what is right," he said almost coldly. He had to pull himself together not to cross the room, to take you in his arms. He wanted you to stay... that he was the right one for you.

But you understood it differently. That he didn't want you to stay.

So you just nodded, "Very well... If that's what you want. Then I'll go"

Tears welled up in your eyes. He said your name, but you just left his chambers.

That night Aemond did not come to your chambers.

You spend the next few years on Dragonstone. You actually had enough time there to prepare for your duties as queen by studying and learning political theory. However, you can't help but wonder if you could have achieved the same level of preparation by staying in King's Landing and discussing these topics with Aemond…

You miss Aemond. Terribly much. Your memories of your last night together are beautiful, but the fact that you were torn apart makes it all the more difficult to bear. You often lie awake for hours. You long for the times when Aemond would come to your bed and you could talk for hours. You miss his embrace... Whenever you receive a letter from King's Landing, you hope to hear something about Aemond, but unfortunately, you don't get any news. You're afraid to reach out to him because you don't want to be rejected, even though you can't stand the silence.

Meanwhile, Aemond is suffering just as much as you are. He longs for you and misses you dearly. He can't sleep at night because he constantly thinks about you. He is restless at night. He is restless because he yearns for your physical presence - your body, warmth, and gentle breathing beside him.

He needs your presence and comfort by his side. He remembers when he told you to do the right thing and go away, and those words still haunt him to this day. He wishes he could take it back and instead ask you to stay.

But now the time had come for you to go back to King's Landing. Your grandsire, King Viserys, is getting worse and your mother is to take the throne after his death. The flight to King's Landing is quiet. The wind blows through your hair as you watch the water pass beneath you. Blackfyre enjoys the flight. Your brothers and your stepfather Daemon are flying with you. And then you see it in the distance. The walls of the capital appear in the distance.

Aemond is in the library. He is sitting by the window reading a book. When a shadow passes in the sky, he looks up. He sees a big dragon in the sky and it is not Vhagar. A smile curls his lips. He is paralysed for a moment, but then he slams the book shut and gets up from his chair.

As you and your family are welcomed into the courtyard, Queen Alicent and Princess Helaena smile at you. Aemond is not to be seen. You smile politely, but the thought spreads through your mind that Aemond might not want to see you.

But Aemond is too excited. His hands tremble slightly. Like the night you made love for the first time. He walks towards the dragonpit, he wants to ride Vhagar. But when he arrives at the dragonpit, he is distracted. He sees Blackfyre and has to smile. He pauses for a moment as Blackfyre slowly turns her head in his direction. Cautiously, he walks towards Blackfyre, slowly raising his hand. She recognises him and grumbles slightly. As he stands beside her, he gently strokes her neck. He immediately feels her warmth flooding his palm.

"Rytsas gevie...", he whispers (Hello beautiful). She grumbles slightly again.

"Gaomagon ao remember nyke?" he says softly with a smile on his lips (Do you remember me)

When suddenly another voice sounds.

"Sīr ao sepār dekuragon bē naejot iā strange zaldrīzes?" you stand behind him (So you just step up to a strange dragon)

He stiffens for a moment.

"Issa daor bona strange..," he replies without turning around (She's not that strange..)

You have to smile as he slowly turns around. He smiles too and you are speechless. He has grown into an impressive man. Even through his clothes you can see that his slim, tall body must have more muscles. His hair is longer and falls over his shoulder. It is tied slightly so that it does not fall in his face. The scar looks much better, it seems to have healed.

"Have you taken care of your scar?" you ask gently.

He nods slightly. The smile does not leave his lips.

"With the ointment... that I... applied every night?", you whisper.

He nods again, "The maesters wanted to try another one in the meantime... But I didn't want to..." he says softly.

You smile softly.

He slowly approaches you and takes you in his arms without hesitation. You put your arms around his body.

"I missed you," he whispers.

You just nod, wanting to hold back the tears.

After a while he leans back, looks you in the face, "And... have you learned how to rule?" he smiles at you.

You laugh lightly, "Oh get ready for something... my brain has been fed so much information..."

He chuckles softly, "I'm curious..."

You sit down behind Blackfyre, leaning against the walls of the dragonpit and talk. Just like you did when you were children.

When all of a sudden he looks at you, "You know... So much has happened. In the time that you weren't there"

You nod slightly, "I know..." you say softly.

He lets his hands slide over his thighs and sighs. His gaze is fixed on the floor, "I am to wed a Baratheon daughter," he says softly.

It is quiet in the dragonpit. Your chest tightens. It is hard for you to breathe. You have expected this, but still you do not know how to deal with it.

As he slowly turns his gaze to you to see your reaction, you just nod slowly.

Tears welling up in your eyes. Your eyes burn and your throat tightens. You clear your throat. You don't want him to see you like this. When he looks at the floor again, you quickly wipe your eyes with the back of your hand.

After a few moments you catch yourself, "And...? Do you want to wed her?" you ask quietly.

He snorts, "You know very well that I don't want to..."

You nod again, "Yes... But we have to do what's right..."

You look at him and he looks you straight in the eye. At first you see pure pain in his gaze, when suddenly his gaze warms.

He nods slowly, "Fuck it, yeah. I have to do the right thing," he says suddenly.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. The love he had for you inside him had build to its maximum, beyond the point of logic or reason, and he gave himself over to you. His mind and heart become one as the two of you kissed. The world around you seemed to disappear, and all that mattered was the feeling of your body against his, and the taste of your lips against his.

You are startled at first. You feel the emotions in this kiss, how Aemond gives himself to you. But you can't help yourself, you return his kiss and pull him towards you. His hand is on your neck, his thumb gently strokes your cheek as he deepens the kiss. His touch... his hand on your neck, his lips on yours... It is all you feel. He is so close to you in that moment. Your lips, your mouths... You breath your breath into each other's. There are no word's, there is only your kiss.

Slowly you undo the buckles of his waistcoat. You interrupt the kiss. Your lips are reddish from your passionate kisses. You kiss gently along his jaw, down to his neck. nibbling lightly on the soft skin. You hear him moan lightly. Your breath is warm against his neck and your lips on his skin were like a flame.

He takes your face in his hands, you look into each other's eyes. You are breathing heavily. He pulls you close, gently kisses your nose. His hands slide from your face down to your shoulders, slowly he starts to open your dress. Gently he slips your dress over your shoulder. His lips follow his fingers. Soft kisses find their way onto your collarbone. He slides your dress further down and his lips leave a fiery trail on your skin. You moan softly as his lips are on your breast, gently cupping your nipple. He moves his tongue over one of your nipples before taking it into his mouth. You gasp out and again a moan comes from your lips. Gently he sucks on the sensitive skin. His teeth lightly graze your nipple and he bites down gently. You hiss slightly and your hands slide into his hair, you grab him by the hair and pull him closer to you.

His hands pull your dress further down. You feel your arousal rising between your legs. You press your thighs together a little, hoping to experience some satisfaction. You take his face in your hands, pull him to you and kiss him greedily, you are panting. You feel him grinning against your lips. Carefully you bite his lip. He hisses and you chuckle lightly. Your hands slide down his chest and undo more buckles on his waistcoat. He takes off his waistcoat and lays it on the dusty ground. You sit down on the waistcoat and watch him take off his vest. Your gaze immediately falls on his upper body. On his soft skin that now has a few more scars. But you also notice that his upper body is really more defined. You bite your lip lightly. You take hold of his neck and pull him towards you. Wild kisses of a dance of tongues and teeth follow. Blackfyre moves slightly beside you. But she turns a little further in front of you so that you are shielded from all possible glances and her gaze is directed towards the entrance.

Aemond gently pushes you to the ground and kneels between your legs. His kisses become softer and you feel him gently slide his fingers up your thigh. You moan into his mouth as his fingers slide through your wet folds without warning.

"Mmmh... you really missed me," he says softly.

You try to bite his lip again, but he pulls his head away quickly enough and grins. Instead he lets his fingers continue to slide through your folds, spreading your arousal along them. You whimper.

He kisses you again as he leaves gentle but firm circles on your pearl. Your breathing becomes heavier.

"Aemond... please..." you gasp against his lips.

His fingers are instantly away from your folds and you hear a buckle open. Almost immediately you feel the tip of his hard cock slide through your folds. His gaze is fixed precisely on the tip of his cock soaking itself with your arousal. He groans at the sight. He looks at you again and sees you biting your lower lip. He leans forward, devouring more of your kisses. Slowly he pushes forward, guides his hot length into you. You both moan as he pushes further in. He gives you a moment to adjust to his size. Slowly he pushes forward, he gasps.

"Seven hells... you're so tight," he whispers, breathing heavily.

You only whimper. The feeling of him filling you completely is overwhelming.

He continues to thrust, penetrating you further with each thrust. You move your hips rhythmically towards him to meet his thrusts on the way. His thrusts get harder and your breasts bounce every time his pelvis slams into yours. He grunts deeply and grips one of your breasts with his hand. Lightly he squeezes it and bends down. His thrusts don't let up as he encircles your nipple again with his mouth. You cry out and grab his arms.

He looks up at you, "My love... do you want us to get caught?" he whispers.

You bite your lips. He turns his attention back to your nipple. Lets his tongue glide gently around before he nibbles lightly on it again. He moans softly as he notices your walls clench slightly around him. He lets go of your nipple and kisses you again. He leans back a little, gently grips your thigh and wraps it around his waist. You cry out again and try to muffle it in his neck. His thrusts become harder. His eye is closed and he moans deeply as he buries himself in you to the hilt of his cock. Again and again he pushes against your sweet spot. You lie under him and just whimper. You reach for his arms and dig your fingernails into his biceps. "Aemond..." you gasp, "deeper..."

He opens his eye, but the purple in his eye is almost unrecognisable. His eye is blown with lust. Wordlessly he takes your leg from his hip and places it along his torso. Your foot rests on his shoulder and he leans further down towards you.

"Oooh... Fuuuck...", you gasp.

Each thrust hurts, but the pain feels so good. You are convinced that he is going to split you. With a brutal speed, he thrusts into you. With each thrust, his balls slap against your ass and are soaked with your arousal. You whimper as you feel the pressure building in your lower belly.

"I... I'm... so close..." you moan.

Aemond reaches between your bodies and applies pressure to your clit. He notices you clenching hard around his cock.

"Love... come... cum on my cock...", he grunts deeply.

With that he pushes you over the edge. You cry out. He tries to muffle your moans by enclosing your lips with his. Your fingers dig deep into his shoulder. Your walls want to pull his cock in further, want to milk him. He feels his balls twitch. He pulls his cock out of you as he feels his cock start to twitch too. You whimper slightly at the sudden emptiness. He moans and grunts deeply, spreading his seed in the dirt beside you. You are both breathing heavily. Slowly you let your leg slide off his shoulder. Aemond smiles at you, breathing heavily. He looks exhausted, but he is smiling. He lies down beside you.

You look at him and whisper, breathing heavily, "That was better than the first time"

You look at each other for a moment before you both laugh. You turn to him and he puts his arms around you.

After a while, you look up at him, "And... have you seen your betrothed yet?"

He chuckles softly, "No... not yet..."

You smile slightly, "Will you..."

"...I'm not going to wed her," he interrupts you. You look at him, he gently strokes your cheek.

"I don't know how yet. But I will talk to my mother... I..." you notice how he is almost hesitant, almost shy.

"You want to ask if you can wed me?" you ask softly.

He looks at you slightly uncertainly, "Well... If... If you don't want to..."

You just kiss him, "Silly boy..." you whisper.

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@aemonds-wifey @hoshi-miharu-blog @arryn-nyx @aemond-targaryenx @praline357

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curio-queries · 3 months

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FACE, LETTER, & CLOSER THAN THIS

Disclaimer: The following post is full of my own opinions and interpretations. I do not share this with the intent to convince anyone else that this meaning upholds for all. My interpretations are also limited to English and that is an important distinction to make when accessing art from another language and culture. There are absolutely intentions and meanings that won't translate. Art is beautifully subjective, and I hope you all find your own reasons to love Jimin's music.

This is quite a lengthy post. Thank you to anyone who reads. I'd love to hear your thoughts as well, so don't feel shy to share! 💜

So FACE has been out for nearly a year, why am I making this post now? Honestly, it's all because of Closer Than This and the few nuggets we can glean from the music video. The very first clip of the mv is of Jimin's team discussing the lyrics and then Jimin's recording session. Honestly, I was quite surprised CTT was written at the same time as all of the FACE songs.

So the question then rises: Why wasn't CTT included in FACE? The answer I've arrived at is because CTT is not part of the journey Jimin was describing with FACE. More on CTT below but first, we need to revisit FACE:

TIMELINE

(US dates - I have to do too much timezone manipulation in my job, I'm not spending the time here):

30 DEC 2018 : Promise Release on SoundCloud

21 FEB 2023 : FACE announcement

16 MAR 2023 : Set Me Free pt.2 Release

23 MAR 2023 : FACE Release

22 DEC 2023 : Closer Than This Release

And here's the FACE schedule:

MOTTO-THEME-GUIDE

These phrases are ALL OVER the FACE project! They're in the digital media that was released, on pretty much every side of the physical albums, on the back of the photocards and postcards... They're pretty much on everything official connected to FACE. They're not just fluff included to fill up space; these words have MEANING in this project. I've been using these phrases as guide posts to help me interpret some of the meanings behind FACE recently, and I would encourage anyone interested in Jimin's deeper message to do the same. I've highlighted my references below.

Circles of Resonance Reflection of vulnerable minds and unexposed wounds. An echo, tremor and small movement to reach you. Face of facing the deepest part of inner-self. Face, the reflection of myself in an unfamiliar appearance. Waves originated from the deepest invisible inner world, pass through the face on the surface and reach others to resonate while transmitting the inner voice. Waves spread beautifully, finding its own flow despite wounds and distortions from a smallest scratch. The face of unwavering effort despite repeated falls and pain.

When asked what the album was about, Jimin freely shares that it relates to the events during the pandemic...and then the conversation usually moves on without any deeper discussion. This interview is probably the most verbose Jimin was any time he described the meaning behind FACE. If you haven't watched it recently, I highly recommend it.

youtube

We know that Jimin rarely shares the problems he's having whilst he's going through them (with us at least). He always waits until after he's moved on so that he can tell us not to worry, that it's in the past. (This concept comes up again in this post so keep it in mind.)

The distinction that I think is important to make is that, yes, FACE is about the pandemic, but it's not a straightforward diary of events. It's about how those events affected him. How the waves caused by the pandemic RESONATE, ECHO, and TREMOR through him - effecting the UNEXPOSED WOUNDS. Jimin found something in himself through this experience and had no choice but to FACE it. There were no distractions anymore, no pushing it to the side to deal with later. And he was able to share that journey with us in such a tragically beautiful way.

THE TRACKS

I made the below gifs for each track but I think they look best as a set without the tags so you can get the full effect of the differing ripples. Check out this post to see what I mean. ☺️

FACE-OFF

I know everyone likes to meme about Face-Off and trying to find who hurt Jimin to make them pay...but I really don't associate Face-Off with an external person. You can betray yourself in much worse ways than anyone else can because you know exactly all of your own weaknesses. You know exactly what pretty lies to tell yourself. And honestly, the source of the event doesn't really matter in the context of FACE. I view Face-Off as the initial incident. The SMALLEST SCRATCH that pushes the waves to spread.

There's also a lovely bit of foreshadowing with the lyric "Like crazy, everyone shout out, yeah yeah". CIRCLES OF RESONANCE. Not singular, multiple; we are in for a bumpy ride.

INTERLUDE : DIVE

I admit, I only listen to this track when I'm doing a full album listen. I love instrumental tracks but this isn't instrumental to me, it's sound effects. And I just personally have a sensory issue that comes out to play here BUT it's important to include in our discussion so don't skip it when you're trying to delve into the meanings!

The message I glean here is just how pervasive the issue is becoming. Jimin can be going about his life, trying to disregard it but the UNEXPOSED WOUNDS are there lurking underneath it all.

The pretty music overlaying the track may sound like glitz and glam, but this is just the beginning of the WAVES SPREADING BEAUTIFULLY, FINDING ITS OWN FLOW DESPITE WOUNDS AND DISTORTIONS...

LIKE CRAZY

I've been promising a post on Like Crazy for ages and this may be the closest I get to it. Let me know if any of you are interested in a more in-depth discussion on how the movie and the song work together. My short summary for both is this: there are moments when you willfully take actions that you KNOW are against your best interest. Not in a fleeting eats-too-many-cookies way. In a I-know-putting-my-hand-on-the-stove-and-turning-it-on-will-burn-me way.

I hope none of you experience this to such a damning extent. I have. Despite being the kind of person who I thought would never venture down such a path. It's not something I wish upon anyone. This is the WAVES ORIGINATED FROM THE DEEPEST INVISIBLE INNER WORLD, PASS THROUGH THE FACE ON THE SURFACE...

ALONE

Have you ever repeated a word enough that it starts to sound bizzare? What if you got the point where you thought the weird sound was reality? And then you were confronted with the truth. This song is that point. Where you are left with the sober understanding of yourself. FACE, THE REFLECTION OF MYSELF IN AN UNFAMILIAR APPEARANCE.

SET ME FREE pt.2

The rise! Jimin was able to find a way to push himself beyond the betrayal of himself. It absolutely wasn't easy and there were setbacks, but this is a clear call to any who find themselves in similar circumstances: you CAN overcome. THE FACE OF UNWAVERING EFFORT DESPITE REPEATED FALLS AND PAIN.

Remember when I said earlier that Jimin only tells us about his struggle once it's over? I honestly believe that's why SMF was the pre-release track. He needed us to know that there was a happy ending before he would tell us about the pain he went through.

LIKE CRAZY (English Version)

As I mentioned my sensory issue above, I cannot talk about Like Crazy without mentioning the whispered English at the beginning/end. I HATE it sooooo much! It just twigs my brain in all the wrong ways. It's a huge part of why it took me a long time to appreciate LC. As much as I hate it though, it's absolutely necessary for the interpretation of LC. It firmly gives us a landmark into where and how the song relates to the movie. It also creates a bookend structure that gives the original and the English versions their own rightful places to exist.

LETTER

My very first post on this blog was a simple comparison of the lyrics in Like Crazy from the translation on the original music video to the english version. There is absolutely a difference here and I think it's a very important distinction that there are two versions of Like Crazy in the album. One is AN ECHO, TREMOR AND SMALL MOVEMENT TO REACH YOU. This phrase is for us, the audience. None of the other phrases use "you". Even though Jimin has set himself free, there are still CIRCLES RESONATING.

If you have seen any of my posts prior to this, you likely know how obsessed with Letter I am. I have the hardest time naming anything as a favorite (even favorite colour, there's just sooo many good uses of different colors) so I hope you understand how revolutionary it is for me to unequivocally state that Letter is my favorite song. Like ever. For all of my (cough*decades*cough) of music-listening, opinion-having life. Letter is THE ONE. Letter is it. I probably have stronger feelings about Letter than any relationship I've been in (but I'm aspec so take that with a grain of salt...)

I listen to Letter A LOT (sometimes on literal repeat - there's a video on YouTube that loops it for over an hour and I've definitely contributed several of those listens) and while working on this post, I would still get emotional hearing it at the end of FACE. This song is the absolute definition of the beauty that can only truly be understood after utter tragedy.

To me, Letter is about how this experience has effected Jimin to the point where there's a noticeable difference in the way he interacts with and appreciates those he loves, in all interpretations of the word love. WAVES...REACH OTHERS TO RESONATE WHILE TRANSMITTING THE INNER VOICE.

I am not using this post to debate the merits of exactly who Letter is for: a significant other, ARMY, or Jimin himself. Frankly, I don't think it matters to the meaning of the song. Use whatever flavour most appeals to you. That's the real genius and gift of Jimin's music imo. He creates it in such a way that we can fold it around our own personal stories and needs.

WHAT WAS THIS POST ABOUT AGAIN?

Right, so rewind to the release of Closer Than This. I'd had very little sleep as I traveled for the holidays and was absolutely feeling the timezone difference. But I stayed up to hear Jimin's new song. I listened to it first in Spotify and thought it sounded like a beautiful, happy, well-produced gift of a song - perfect for the end of the year and to comfort us with his departure for military service. Then I watched the mv to read the subtitles... Y'all, I absolutely was NOT expecting to see clips from the time covered in Jimin's Production Diary! I wouldn't have been surprised if it was the same team that Jimin worked with before but at a later time - he trusts them artisically after all. BUT these clips were the same angles and same conversations we saw from the development of FACE.

So I started my due diligence. Is it possible CTT was supposed to be part of FACE but they held it specifically to release when it did? I listened to FACE multiple times trying to insert CTT into the narrative. And it just doesn't fit this journey...at all. Like not in the slightest. I thought maybe immediately after Letter or even replacing Letter but no. I even tried inserting Promise as a bridge and it just doesn't work in the context of FACE.

CTT has a pretty literal storytelling narrative. It describes the journey WE have been on with Jimin. It lists his promises to US going forward. The music video being an album of memories, supports the nostalgic and loving viewpoint of the song. It has absolutely nothing to do with how Jimin was affected by the events of the pandemic or anything he found inside himself because of it.

Both songs have been described by Jimin as a 'fan song' and as I described in this post, there are many reasons that support both of them falling into this categorization. To me, Letter is more about Jimin having a deep intimate conversation with us because he trusts us. While CTT is literally about the relationship between ARMY and Jimin.

Anyway, I think that's all I've got to say about it for now. What are your thoughts? Should Closer Than This have been included in FACE? Was it just a marketing ploy to keep generating our interest after Jimin left?

(BTW I'm really happy with those FACE gifs and how the ripples look when they're together. They took some time to figure out. I just wish I had some better software to turn them into gifs so the colours display better, but alas, beggars can't be choosers. They look really great in the ppt that I made them in but I guess that's just for me to enjoy!)

#park jimin #jimin #FACE #Face-off #Interlude: Dive #like crazy #alone #set me free pt.2 #like crazy (english)#Letter #closer than this

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sui-imi · 9 months

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100 Facts About UnderEats!Sans (aka Roo)

I posted these on twitter, but decided I should also post them here for everyone o/

Facts below the cut!

WARNING: it's. really long.

1. UnderEats!Sans is nicknamed 'Roo'. This is a shortened version of 'Deliveroo'. I chose it because the AU's name was already based on 'Uber Eats' and wanted to keep the theme relevance.

2. Roo originates from a Horrortale timeline variant. It was destroyed before he left to meet with Undyne, meaning his skull was never shattered, nor his eye taken. (Horrortale belongs to sour-apple-studios)

3. He's 4'4" / 132cm tall. He's not insecure about his height, but he doesn't like how tall everyone else is…

4. Since his timeline's gone, Roo's homeless. He'll either stay at Arbiter's store, nap in a random AU, or pay for an inn somewhere.

5. He works as a multiversal food delivery driver. His job is to collect food from various restaurants across the Multiverse, then use his AU-hopping moped to instantly transport the food to the customer's AU/address. (... its just uber eats but in undertale)

6. He's not supposed to, but if you bribe him with cash or food (anything with BBQ in it), he'll give you a free ride to another AU. He can be bribed to do other things, also. but only for cold, hard, cash. (and nothing inappropriate)

7. In his timeline, he spent a lot of time raising morale, handling rations and thinking of solutions for their food crisis. Due to this, Roo's not very lazy anymore. But he still loves to take naps.

8. He's extremely nervous around other Alphys', after seeing her stare at him so intensely, and hearing her plan from the echo flowers. He's okay around Swapped Alphys'. Usually.

9. He's pretty frugal, only buying food or paying for an inn room every so often.

10. He has a lot of food and snacks stored in his inventory, but not to eat. He instead hands it out to other people who might need it.

11. He can't handle high-stress/danger situations. If he can't find a solution to the problem quickly enough, he kind of. Shuts down. It results in him making very stupid decisions. Like throwing a moped at someone.

12. Due to his repeated destruction of company property, most of his pay goes towards paying off the broken bikes. It's... going to take a while to pay it off. (He's still going to keep throwing the mopeds).

13. Roo can also ride bicycles, motorbikes, and some types of cars. But he likes mopeds because they're small and easy to nap on.

14. Doesn't really use his phone outside of work purposes, so he's a bit of a social media boomer. The grimace shake trend is a horrific mystery to him. He doesn't even know what 'simp' means.

15. His magic eye LOOKS green, but it's not. It's the same blue/yellow that Classic Sans has, but it's moving so fast that it blends together to green.

16. He has the same stats as Classic Sans.

17. He still likes ketchup. He just thinks BBQ sauce is the superior condiment.

18. He's always wearing a hat, or something that covers his head. It's because he's trying to break a bad habit of scratching at his skull. Instead, he fiddles with the hat.

19. He's actually a pretty good cook! On his days off, he likes to practice.

20. His favourite place to eat is Grillby's 2 (a multiversal version of the OG). He's good friends with the Grillbys that run the place and the food is always good.

21. He has a soft spot for Grillbys and other Horrors. He's nice to them and always asking if they're good. (He's still shaken from his Grillby... 'melting'...)

22. He's one of those people that constantly complains about doing something, but still does it anyway.

23. He has an excellent memory when it comes to remembering addresses/co-ordinates to other AUs. Ask him about a specific place and chances are, he'll know where you're talking about.

24. He likes his job because it's simple. He likes simple. It means less stress. Despite being a simple job, certain customers love increasing his stress levels. T_T

25. His hands are a bit scratched up from stress-scratching. That's part of the reason why he likes to wear gloves all the time. The other part is: he just likes wearing them.

26. He doesn't like wasting food/drinks. If you make something (edible) for him, even if he doesn't want it, he'll try to eat it, just so it doesn't go to waste.

27. He's not picky with what he eats. If it's edible, he'll eat it. If it's not edible, he'll... pretend to eat it.

28. He used to be friends with a part-time worker, who was an Undyne. After certain events occured, he no longer makes friends with the other workers!

29. Roo dislikes Exec's 'don't interfere with timelines' rule. He thinks that if you can help, you should. But he also doesn't want to lose the job, so his help ends up being rather limited…

30. He hates delivering to the Doodlesphere. He has a policy in place with the Star Sanses: if he delivers and they're in the middle of a fight, they have to tip him double... he makes a lot of money delivering to the Doodlesphere.

31. Roo likes going to a random AU and taking a nap in it. Sometimes, if he's bored, he'll explore the AU a little bit. He's not supposed to be seen in AUs that aren't involved/aware of the multiverse, so he either skips them or sneaks around.

32. If he comes across a starving timeline, he'll leave behind some food. Nothing big, just enough to survive a little longer. He doesn't want Exec to become aware of his 'timeline-intefering'. (Exec already knows. But they allow it, since it doesn't really affect much.)

33. If he ever lost his job, he'd go work with Arbiter in the Condiment Hall (a convenience store that specialises in well, condiments), or go to the Omega Timeline.

34. His eye sockets are naturally 'droopy'.

35. His bones can rattle. It only happens when he's scared. It's embarrassing.

36. He drinks, but only 'socially' (AKA, if you hand him a drink, he'll drink it). He's not a lightweight. But the process of getting drunk makes him feel queasy. When he's actually drunk, he starts acting stupid.

37. He gets easily flustered/embarrassed if you give him any positive attention. When that happens, he tugs on his hat to hide his face.

38. He doesn’t like fighting. If he ends up in an encounter, he either tries to escape it, or he gets too stressed (aka goes stupid mode).

39. If someone is in trouble (and he’s ACTUALLY able to help), he’ll do his best to remove them from the situation. Don’t ask him to fight for you. He won’t.

40. He favours using blue magic in fights to keep opponents away from him/rooted in place. If that fails, he'll TP to a safe distance.

41. If his life is truly in danger, his survival instincts kick in, and he’ll fight like it’s a genocide route.

41b. His thoughts are switched ‘off’ during this. He fights automatically.

42. He has a metal pipe for joke purposes. Sometimes he’ll drop it because the sound is hilarious to him. He also uses it as an impromptu weapon.

43. The best description for Roo is that he’s Aro Ace. He has no desire for anything beyond friendship.

44. He’s lost track of his age, but he’s in his late 20s/early 30s. His birthday is the 8th of September (International Food Delivery Day)!

45. He’s fine interacting with other Papyruses, but if they show any familiarity with him, it weirds him out. (i.e: calling him 'Brother')

46. Roo misses his Papyrus, but… a part of him is glad that he’s not suffering anymore. But that kind of thinking also makes him mad... It’s a difficult subject. He doesn't like to think about it.

47. Either he’s grumpy, loud and rude (usually with difficult people). Or chill and more like a Classic (most of the time).

47b. He’s also a very expressive skeleton. His facebones are quite flexible. (does that even make sense?)

48. Everytime he gets an order from the Bad Sanses, his day gets ten times worse. He has to start mentally planning an escape route to minimise trouble.

49. Roo feels a strange kind of survivor’s guilt when he sees other Horrors. He’s aware of how lucky he is compared to his counterparts.

50. Sometimes, he has nightmares of a Horror clawing out his eye, wanting to ‘make them match’.

51. He loves getting tips and bribes. His prices are always fair - he doesn’t like extorting people. But er, if you insist enough times, he’ll just… take it and pay it forward. (cough)

52. Roo loves antagonising Swap Papyrus. Swap Paps antagonises him back. Roo also loves getting Swap Sans to lecture Paps for antagonising him.

53. He still has the ability to Judge, and quietly checks anyone he comes across. Just as a safety precaution.

54. His mouth can open, but it usually stays shut. It only opens when he's yawning or eating something big. He can eat some things/drink without opening his mouth. How? Who knows.

55. He doesn’t enjoy science anymore, and tends to avoid it. But sometimes he sees something interesting and becomes curious.

56. There’s an Outertale Burgerpants called Burpi that he loves to antagonise. It seems he knows something embarrassing the cat monster did and holds it over his head.

57. He wears size 6 (US size) mens shoes.

58. His favourite colour is blue. But he thinks green is okay too.

59. Roo doesn’t know how to react to gifts. Half the time he thinks it’s something you want him to deliver. If you clarify, he says thanks and puts it somewhere safe. (Then he gets flustered)

60. He doesn’t really cry, except for ‘comedic situations’.

61. He used to have a habit of writing a bunch of notes on any surface he could find (especially walls). He got in a lot of trouble for it. Now he carries a small notebook around to take notes.

62. He’s not very materialistic. His moped is probably the only 'material' thing he cares about.

63. He keeps having to buy new socks because everytime he stays at an inn/at Arbiter’s place, he leaves one lying around.

64. He’s accidentally made a trash tornado in his bag, except with people’s orders.. It was very messy..

65. He’s currently learning how to bake. His favourite so far are fig rolls.

66. If there’s ever drama or a (not serious) fight going down in front of him, he’s the guy dealing out popcorn to the bystanders.

67. Whenever he’s bored, he watches some random shows. He tried to watch UnderNovela but he missed a lot of episodes, so he’s just confused.

68. Roo knows English, Common (AKA monster english), and Monster Sign Language (the monster’s version of sign)

69. In Roo’s timeline, Gaster was his brother. He can’t remember his parents.

70. He got turned into a bitty once. He refuses to talk about it, saying ‘the experience changed me…. Into a bitty, that is.’

71. One of the strangest AUs he’s visited is one where monsters were on the surface, except they were beast-like and HUGE. Not bara huge. 200ft tall huge. He finds it fascinating. Sometimes he'll go there, sit in a tree, and just watch them roam.

72. Every time he visits a random AU, he has a 50/50 chance of being dropped into the middle of something chaotic.

73. He customises his mopeds to say ‘sans’ with a bone sticker at the front. It’s so he can remember which one is his. (Lie. He just thinks it's cool)

74. He has a red friendship bracelet around his neck, given to him by Fresh!Reaper. It’s hidden by his coat most of the time. (Fresh!Reaper - @\SoftyMuii on Twitter)

75. He's sort of friends with this one Horror. They like to grab lunch together sometimes.

76. He likes to listen to other people’s puns more than making his own. Either way they make him chuckle every time, even in serious situations. (Though he tries not to laugh out of loud).

77. His favourite kind of jacket are windbreakers, which is what he wears most of the time.

78. He doesn’t care much for fashion, he just wears whatever’s comfortable (which is a shirt and shorts).

79. His favourite thing about the surface are the stars. Second is the sea. He loves the colour of the water and how calm it is.

80. When he texts, his replies are lazy and full of typos.

81. He has no idea that the lady behind the door was Toriel, queen of the monsters. In his timeline, Frisk killed her.

82. Despite napping all the time, he has trouble actually trying to sleep. He can manage 2 hours before waking up.

83. He’s a pretty light sleeper. He doesn’t fully fall asleep, still keeping some sort of awareness of his surroundings. If someone gets too close to him/makes too much noise, he’ll open his eyes.

84. Roo will generally try to follow the rules, but if they clash with his ideals, he’ll either break them, or try his best to bend the rules to his favour.

85. He’s good at keeping secrets. But that’s only because he forgets most of them after a while.

86. His bone colour is affected by how much sun he receives. They’re off-white since he’s covered up most of the time.

87. Sometimes he’ll sunbathe a little to brighten his bones. He claims it makes him feel more energetic.

88. He thinks MTT food is the worst of the worst. He won’t even pretend to eat it if someone hands him any. It’s going straight in the trash.

89. He likes white noise. Pure silence makes him agitated.

91. He's kind of apathetic. His emotions feel muted. But his reactions are still over the top.

90. Roo likes eye contact and being able to see people’s faces & facial expressions when talking to them. Having your back turned to him during a conversation bothers him.

90b. Despite this, he gets unnerved by intense staring (it reminds him of Alphys)

92. His stamina is okay, but he still gets tired out often, which is why he takes so many naps.

93. Roo doesn’t really get angry. At most he’ll get irritated or annoyed, but he doesn’t know what true anger feels like.

94. He hates troublesome customers. A part of him hopes they get food poisoning and never order again… but he won’t say that out loud.

95. He enjoys delivering to ‘peaceful’ AUs, usually ones that have already reached the surface. The customers there are usually very nice.

96. He’s a tidy person, but that’s only because he doesn’t own a lot of things to create a mess in the first place.

97. Don’t bully workers! If you’re mean to the workers at the stores, Roo will get annoyed and lecture you.

98. He feels a sense of kinship with other workers, especially multiversal workers like him. (Like Post!Sans)

99. Sometimes he works at Grillby’s 2 if they need extra help. He’s terrible at making drinks/entertaining the customers, so he just makes food in the back.

100. If it’s very hot or very cold, he can feel it. Otherwise he can’t really feel changes in temperature.

#undertale #undertale au #undereats!sans #roo #undereats #Sorry. it's a lot of text/info #but hey! here's basically everything you need to know about roo #roo lore

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noridoorman · 5 months

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More scrapped Nuzi fics (warning, some is angsty)

Fragmented/Fragments of the past/Echo/Whatever freaking title I had for this:

Uzi crawls on the ground, one arm missing and every inch of her metallic body feeling like extra weight she’s forced to carry. The room around her trembles, the walls shun a blinding white color, piercing the optical sensors of her visor. Some furniture pieces around her began to fade gradually into the white voice as Uzi continued pushing forward, crying out a name so familiar and yet so distant, grasping for something, anything, in her vicinity.

She hears another voice; a feminine one calling out the same name yet everytime it did, their voice would glitch or distort, making it unable for Uzi to hear it.

Yet she knew, the name somehow carried significance.

Uzi pushes forward, her vision partly recovering after having been assaulted by the light to see a silhouette in a glass capsule, several heavy machinery surrounding it. The silhouette turns to her and despite not being able to discern any facial features or attributes tied to the person she can see its somber smile as it kneels down to her level - or as far as it could go.

Again, Uzi calls this name as she stared at the figure, placing her hand weakly against the glass, a feeble attempt to break it. Sobs wreck through her body, begging the person, whoever they are, to get out of the capsule, to not do something that she couldn’t grasp no despite her own words repeating it. The figure’s eyes closed as they shakily exhaled, trying to communicate to Uzi yet all words came out as equally distorted as the name.

And yet, Uzi begged. Pleaded, cried, anything to convince the figure to leave. Yet it only responded by placing its hand against the glass, its words coming out glitched once again.

“Uzi, I love you…”

Her eyes hollow as the now clear words hit her audial sensors. A deep sense of both love and grief shocks her to the core, all sounds she once made fall mute as a sudden realization settles before her. For the few seconds of silence she had, the figure muttered a thousand apologies before the bright void engulfed them both.

What it was: this was meant to be a "what-if" kinda fanfic. Basically, N cannot take the thought of Uzi dying and looked for any chance for an alternative, which he found. He found a machine in the labs that could rewind time, bringing the time back to a time before they met. However, the machine needed fuel and N was the only one that could fuel it through his core. He sacrifices himself, despite Uzi's pleading. Time rewinds and Uzi wakes up without any memory of what happened and N has been completely ereased from the timeline. However, I really don't like sad endings and this fanfic would have ended on Uzi somehow remembering and bringing N back, however...

Why I scrapped it: I don't trust myself to handle heavy topics and angst and make it believable while also emotional. Plus, I started working on Cinnamon Scent and never found the time to develope it further than the prologue. And as time went on I thought of the concept to be boring and was scared it wasn't going to stick with others through all the other creative stuff out there.

Reborn:

"The absolute most angst-filled idea I could possibly think of for this series is N dying and Uzi proceeding to feed Eldtrich N living worker drones out of desperation, willing to sacrifice anyone to get him back. N revives but without any memory of what Uzi did to resurrect him,' with a traumatized, oil-stained Uzi hugging him in silence."

This was a comment a different Tumblr user made and I asked them if I could write a fanfic about it and they said "Sure". Aaaand, I never write it cause again; I don't trust myself with Angst.

Cinnamon Scent Chapter 5:

N // Today at 10:11 AM

“Uziii, I got the appel strudel u asked for! :D”

“But also… a bit of a surprise”

Uzi raised a brow at that, her mind already going in overdrive to try to think what surprise he might have planned.

Uzi // Today at 10:11 AM

“And that is?”

N // Today at 10:11 AM

“How do I say it ahhh”

“Well, it depends on you if it’s a positive or a negative surprise!”

Uzi // Today at 10:12 AM

“Don’t dodge the question”

N // Today at 10:12 AM

“Wahhh, you’re so scary when you’re serious!”

“It’s kinda hard to tell you bc they told me not to tell you”

Uzi // Today at 10:12 AM

“???”

“Who’s they?? Where are you?”

N // Today at 10:13 AM

“OO I said too much, we’ll meet u there!!”

“Wha?” Uzi whispers under her breath, an uncomfortable feeling emerges at the pit of her stomach, making her thoughts go even more in overdrive.

Did he bring a friend along?

With confusion and determination both etched on her face (and some sprinkled in nervousness) her pace quickens as she beelines towards the amusement park, ready to smack somebody if she needs to.

“Hey, Uzi!” Uzi turns around to the sound of N calling for her, spotting him standing near the entrance. And as Uzi had expected, he didn’t stand alone.

“That’s her?” A human with a large bow in her brown/reddish hair and a few freckles on her tanned skin. “It’s nice to finally meet you!”

“Yeah, so nice” A drone with her white hair styled into two twintails responded sarcastically, making Uzi forget about her shock for a second to glare at her.

“Don’t be like that, J!” V lighty smacks the shoulder of, who Uzi now knows is, J. J in turn glared at V’s direction, though the latter seemed not bothered by it.

“I… I didn’t expect you to bring your family,” Uzi chuckles awkwardly, pointing at all the new (and not so new) people behind N. He scratched the back of his head, opening his mouth to speak.

“Yeah, well-”

“We weren’t going to leave him alone with a stranger” J interjects, making N cower underneath her harsh gaze. Uzi only returns that, her shoulders tense.

“Friend. I’m his friend,”

“Guys, let’s not fight!” Tessa stands between J and Uzi, making N breathe a huge sigh of relief. Uzi’s eyes softened a bit, her stance growing less defensive. “N talked about an amusement park at some point. We all thought it would be fun to go together!”

“I wouldn’t be able to sneak out again anyway,” N shoots Uzi an apologetic smile that she returns with a soft sigh, both not hearing J yell in the background ‘again?’.

“No need to be sorry, bud,” Uzi hides her hands in her pockets, trying to mask her disappointment with a casual attitude. “It’s your family, I’m not going to deny you not taking them out here,”

“And we’ll get to spend more time together!” N cheers, looking excitedly at Tessa. “Right?”

“We’ll have to see how it will work with your schedule but otherwise, I don’t see why not!” Tessa ruffles N’s hair, chuckling.

“We’ll also have to see if she’s not a threat!” J argues back, however, it fell on deaf ears as everyone turned towards the entrance, all making their way inside the amusement park while J grumbled something under her breath.

“So, which rides look the most fun?” Tessa strokes her chin, looking at all the different attractions in her line of sight.

“The rollercoaster is pretty cool,” Uzi shrugs. “There should also be a carousel somewhere, but it’s for kids,”

“What about this?” N runs ahead towards a giant mechanical octopus with seats attached to its tentacles. “This looks fun!”

“And dangerous,” J crosses her arms, her eyes moving along the rotation of the octopus.

“I think it’s safe,” Tessa smiles, turning to Uzi. “Right?”

“Oh, uh, sure!” Uzi scrambles together an answer, somewhat surprised that Tessa would ask for her opinion. “I wasn’t on the octopus a lot, it always bored me. My mom thought it was tons of fun though,”

“I got us tickets!” V cackles as she hands each and every one of them tickets, with N taking it eagerly and J more reluctantly.

“V, you know we have to save,” J glares, making V roll her eyes.

“I know, I know, but we can take it easy once,” V hands the last tickets to Tessa. “What fun would we have if we saved every penny only for necessities?”

“They’re called necessities for a reaso-”

“J,” Tessa places a hand on J’s shoulder, making her eyes widen a bit. “Don’t worry about the money. I’ll take care of it”

“But-”

“See? Tessa got it covered!” V walks on the ramp as the ride stops, choosing eagerly which seat she’s going to take. “Besides, you should take it easy especially!”

“If this is what it's like to have siblings then I’m happy that my parents only adopted me…” Uzi speaks her thoughts out loud, flinching as N’s laughter rings out next to her.

“At least it never gets boring!” N takes her hand, leading her to two empty seats. Uzi’s core flutters at the contact, her eyes drifting towards their hands. N helps hoist Uzi up due to her smaller size, only intensifying her already prominent blush.

“I’m… really surprised they came along” A employee fastened their seats, taking their tickets with an odd look. Uzi returned the look with a glare before sighing. “How did you convince them?”

“Oh, there wasn’t any convincing needed!” N beams. “Tessa wanted to go somewhere, I just mentioned the amusement park!”

“Did you tell them about me?” Uzi grips the edges of her seat as the ride slowly begins.

“A little, yeah” N admits sheepishly. “J got suspicious that I knew about the amusement park”

“Of course” Uzi rolls her eyes, her grip tightening as the ride picks up speed.

“Tessa was all for it!” N grips Uzi’s hand, squeezing it as fans begin to whirr louder. “Th-This is my first time here, you don’t mind that I…?” N’s gaze flickers towards their hands, making Uzi shake her head frantically.

“N-Not at all!” Uzi squeezes his hand back, partially to reassure him, partially due to her internal panic. “Be warned though, it’ll get faster,”

“Faster?!” N yelled as the seats began to spin along with the giant octopus in the middle. Uzi cackled as the ride began to spin quiet fast in all directions while N’s grip on Uzi’s hand tightened, screaming as the seats moved up and down.

“Are you afraid?!” Uzi yells, her smile disappearing as she looks at N. However, a nervous smile etched on his face as turned to Uzi.

“This is awesome!” He kicked his feet in the air as the ride continued, making Uzi laugh in response.

Despite the wind tossing and turning her hair in every direction, the adrenalin in her body going on overdrive or the constant spinning of the ride, the feeling of N’s hand intertwined with her’s turned her entire brain functions into mush.

“That was so cool!” V fist bumps in the air as she excitedly jumps off the ride with the rest trailing behind. “We should do that again!”

“Yeah, right, it wasn’t THAT exciting!” J crosses her arms, a frown etched on her face.

“I saw you laughing like crazy, J!” Tessa giggles, fixing up some strands of J’s hair. “Admit it, you liked it,”

“J-Just a little!” J balls her hands into fists but doesn’t fight back against Tessa’s hands undoing her twintails to make it even again. “It’s still overrated!”

“What J actually meant was, thanks for taking me out on this fun trip away from my crippling workload and the same walls I have to witness every day!” V holds her shorter hair up, mimicking J’s hairstyle, posture and voice.

“Aren’t you mature?” J rolls her eyes as Tessa ties the first pigtail up.

“We’re kids, let’s enjoy it as long as it lasts!” V rests her hands on her hips, a smug grin on her face.

“V is right, J” As Tessa finally tied up the last pigtail she kissed the top of J’s head. “I wanted us here so that we don’t have to hide away anymore,”

J groans, her arms dropping to her side.

“Where did you guys live before?” Everyone's eyes turned to Uzi who immediately felt herself shrink under their intense stares. “...too much?”

“I-I can tell you sometime later!” N places a hand on her shoulder. “Right now, let’s just enjoy our… Wait, what’s that?!” N instantly runs away, leaving them all dumbfounded and scrambling towards his direction.

“N, don’t just run off like that!” J scolds as they finally reach him, his gaze concentrated on a giant Shiba Inu plush hanging from the side of a stand. Cans are stacked on top of each other with more different plushies and prices hanging on the sides.

“Do you want this?” Uzi points at the Shiba Inu plush, making N rapidly nod his head.

“Yeah, but… I’d have to win to get one,” N sadly scratches his arm as he eyes the plush.

“My mom used to be really good at those, she taught me a thing or two” Uzi responds somewhat smugly, yet a shy blush showed itself on her visor. “Maybe I could try winning you one?” Uzi smiles, her hands resting on her hip. N’s eyes brightened as he happily bounces on the spot.

“Only humans can participate,” V points at the sign, her expression turning sour. “How stupid…”

“I can try!” Tessa beams, handing the vendor money. “I’m probably not as good but it’s worth a shot,”

“Really?!” N claps his hands, they light in his visor shining somehow brighter. Tessa nods eagerly, grabbing one of the three balls on the counter, raising her hand behind her shoulder to throw the ball. Her eyes squint as pure concentration etched itself on her face, every fiber of her being channeled into landing the perfect shot. The drones all gather around her, looking with both excitement and unease in their eyes.

However, for Uzi, all she saw were the static covered eyes, an image of what should be her mom standing there, ready to throw the ball. Khan places a hand on Uzi’s shoulder, making her look up to him with a curious gaze.

Nori throws one ball and misses.

Wait… Mom never missed?

She throws another. Again, miss.

That’s not a memory.

“Come on, Nori, you can do it!” Khan cheers, looking as if he doesn’t see what Uzi is seeing. The static over her eyes, the clouds in the sky going faster than they should and the feeling of the breeze hitting them in all places at once.

Nori throws again. This time, all the cans fall down.

Cheers emerge from all directions of Uzi’s auditory sensors, voices so familiar and strange.

“Look, Uzi!” Uzi jolts as N holds the Shiba Inu plush at her face, recoiling slightly at her reaction. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you!”

“N-No, it’s fine, I was just… thinking?” Uzi shakes her hands.

“Explains why you stood there like a zombie,” J crosses her arms, raising a brow. Uzi opens her mouth, ready to defend herself until N presses the Shiba Inu plush again against her face.

“Look how adorable it is!” He offers for Uzi to hold it but she raises her hands in the air instead, taking several steps back.

“Uh, I-I…It’s cute,” N’s head tilts to the side, a puzzled frown on his face.

“Your fans are really loud!” Tessa notes, kneeling down to Uzi’s level. “Are you okay?”

“I-I’m fine!” Uzi takes more steps back as Tessa tries to place a hand on her forehead.

“Are you sure-”

“Bite me! I said I’m fine!” Uzi crosses her arms.

“Watch your tone!” J takes some threatening steps towards Uzi but is stopped by N who stands protectively in front of her.

“J, stop,” N says with a somewhat authoritative tone, surprising everyone. “She probably just feels overwhelmed. Leave her alone,”

J raises a finger, her mouth opening but after several seconds of no sounds coming, her hands fall to her side.

“I think we should all take a break,” Tessa says, trying to defuse the situation. “Maybe we could sit on a bench and stare at the ocean for a bit,”

“Great idea, my legs are starting to hurt,” V stretches her arms above her head, exhaling heavily before walking ahead. “Come on,”

“Do you know where you’re going?” N asks, staying next to Uzi’s side who looked at the ground, absent minded.

“It shouldn’t be that hard to find a quiet corner!”

“You’re walking into the crowd,” J groans.

“Hey, trust my intuition once!” V glares, looking behind her.

“Your intuition got us in more trouble than it actually helped” A exasperated sigh escapes J’s lips but V only chuckles in response.

“Like that one time in the mall?” J cracks a small smile as V mentioned the incident, making Tessa laugh along.

“We were looking so long for you two!” Tessa picks up her pace to walk between V and J. “What made you guys think that hiding into the gaming store was a good idea?”

“It was V’s intuition that made her think you’d look for us there first,” J rolls her eyes albeit with a smile. “Truthfully, I think she just wanted to look at the games there”

“Lies!” V gasps dramatically. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing!”

“It was the truth, wasn’t it?” N laughs from behind the three. “You told me, V!”

“N, you suck!” V yells, making both Tessa and J burst out in laughter.

“Ah, oops, shouldn’t have revealed it, huh?” N scratches the back of his back, a sheepish smile on his face.

The three began telling more stories of the past, recounting incidents or happy memories and sharing smiles and laughter together. However, N caught on to Uzi’s silence and somewhat distant behavior the whole time.

“Hey,” Uzi jolts slightly as N places a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You good?”

“Yes, for the thousandth time, I’m fine,” Uzi sighs.

“You’ve been so quiet though,” N sheepishly smiles. “Sorry about, uh… all this,”

“All what?” Uzi raises a brow.

“I should have told you my family was coming along and not make it out to be this surprise.” An unusual somber expression falls on his face as his lips twitch downward to a frown. “I’m sorry for overwhelming you like this,”

Uzi opens her mouth to speak again but N kept on rambling.

“In fact, I probably should have gone alone!” Slight panic arises in his expression, making Uzi feel a pang of sympathy in her chest.

This is scrapped because I felt embarrassed about the family drama. However, this is only the snippet of what's being edited, there's a ton that will stay the same bc it's Khan and Uzi bonding stuff :3

#murder drones #md #n x uzi #nuzi #uzi doorman #cinnamon scent

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stormcloudrising · 5 months

Text

Secret Song of Florian and Jonquil Part 8: Jenny of Oldstones and her Prince of Dragonflies

December 7, 2023

Jenny of Olstones by Jesse Ochse

This latest chapter is in response to an anonymous ask for additional information on a question I answered here, about what would have happened to Sansa if Lady was not killed. In responding to the question, I referenced how the show heavily used the dragonfly motif in Sansa’s costumes and what that implied about her story on the show that D&D didn’t carry through on, but more importantly about her arc in the books.

My response to the question elicited a request for further expansion on my comment about dragonflies and Sansa. It is a good question, and one I debated whether to answer at this time because to do so would reveal two theories I’ve been planning to propose in upcoming chapters of the series.

For many different reasons, it has taken me a long time to complete the series. Part of it has to do with the time constraints of my job, but a bigger cause is probably the difficulty in getting up the energy or excitement to write an in-depth analysis when George is taking so long to deliver the next book.

Nonetheless, I am going to answer the anonymous question, and I will propose one of my theories here as well because the question got my essay writing juices flowing again. Thus, though it was not planned, before the super rush of the holiday season gets here and the writing juices stops flowing, here is Chapter 8 of my Florian and Jonquil series.

It is slightly out of order, as this topic was scheduled for 2 to 3 chapters hence. However, it is not that out of place to follow the last chapter. And so, it’s time for Jenny of Oldstones, and her Prince of Dragonflies. I will attempt to show you how the legend of Jenny and her Prince rhymes with that of Florian and Jonquil and as a result, with Jon and Sansa.

"You may read it here. It is old and fragile." He studied her, frowning. "Archmaester Rigney once wrote that history is a wheel, for the nature of man is fundamentally unchanging. What has happened before will perforce happen again, he said.” A Feast for Crows – The Kraken’s Daughter

You may wonder why I am quoting Asha’s nuncle words about Archmaester’s Rigney’s teachings here, and it would be for two reasons. First, while Archmaester Rigney’s comment is George paying homage to Robert Jordan and the Wheel of Time, his words have great meaning in the story of ASOIAF. The past or rather events do repeat in ASOIAF, but not exactly. I would say that instead of a complete repetition, events in the story rhyme…possibly because of alternate timelines, but that’s for another chapter. It’s why we find echoes of the same story repeating over and over in the text and in-world historical references.

The second reason I’m including the quote from an Ironborn is because their myths…specifically that of Nagga the sea dragon has important implications in the story of Jenny; and Duncan, her Prince of Dragonflies. And as I will shortly show you, Ironborn myths…specifically the one about Nagga answers the question posed to me about dragonflies.

More importantly, this ancient myth has implications in the tale of Florian and Jonquil and thus ultimately leads us back to the current incarnation of those characters, Jon, and Sansa.

Before I get into answering the question about dragonflies, let me again state what I do in almost every essay, and that is, George like many great writers writes in symbolism—except he takes it up to the 9th degree. As a result, this is one of the main ways I analyze ASOIAF. It’s not the only way to look at his magnum opus, but if you understand this, and you’re a fan of symbolism, whether mythological, literary or your garden variety type, I think you can discern clues and or pick up on possible answers to the great mysteries of the books.

I also suggest reading, if you have not done so previously, the earlier chapters of my Florian and Jonquil series. It’s not necessary to read all at this time, but you should especially read Chapter 7, Parts 1 and 2. In those chapters, I break down a lot of the symbolism that implies Sansa is a greenseer as well as discuss how this symbolism closely ties her to Nissa Nissa and the corpse queen, the two ancient female figures at the center of the book’s great mystery. This idea that Sansa is a greenseer heavily ties into the symbolism of the dragonflies.

In the two previous chapters of the series, I also discussed how Sansa’s name is a full anagram Nassa, which in Latin means weir, and how that and her little bird moniker among many other things, ties her to Nissa Nissa and implies that she’s a secret unknowing goddess of the weirwoods.

As you read this essay series, you should also always keep in mind that George has set up his weirwood net as a hive; and there is a hive mind theme running throughout. The interesting thing about hives is that they have queens, not kings. This is one of the ways you know that the legend of Ellyn Eversweet and the King of the Bees is a tale of usurpation of the rights of the woman. We know this because there is no such thing as a King Bee.

I also referenced Ravenousreader’s brilliant essay about George’s symbolic use of the sea as a stand-in for the astral plane to which the weirwoods grant access, and how Patchface mad rantings about “under the sea” are about what the fandom calls the weirwood net. You can read RR essay in this westeros.org thread here.

By the way, her theory was written years before it was confirmed on the show in season 6 Episode 2 when Bloodraven describes travelling the astral plane of the weirwoods to Bran as being “beneath the sea.”

Bloodraven to Bran: “It's beautiful beneath the sea, but if you stay too long, you will drown.”

Bran: I wasn’t drowning. I was home.

You can watch the clip from the show here at 2:42.

youtube

Of course, we’re not talking about real drowning because we’re not talking about a real sea. Rather George is using the sea as a metaphor for his astral plane version of the river of time.

Bran is not drowning because he’s being trained on how to properly swim the green sea. That’s part of the reason why they are so many dreamers impaled on icy spires in his first weirwood dreams. They couldn’t swim the green sea. There is other symbolism in the passage about the dreamers that have to do with the icy spires I may get to another time, but the point I’m trying to make now is that the green sea is dangerous to traverse…especially for those without training. You can become trapped by the weirwoods.

I mention RR’s essay so that you can understand that often when George references the green sea or other natural water tributaries in the text, he’s talking about the weirwood net and you should be on the lookout for symbolic greenseer activities. Often, these scenes symbolize someone trying to sneak into the green sea/weirwoods; escape from the weirwoods; or being trapped by the weirwoods, which are gnarly bridges across the green sea and can grant access to the special ones—the greenseers.

So, when you see a myth in the text like the Ironborn one about the Grey King, and his battle with Nagga, the great female sea dragon which he slew, you should stop and consider if there is more implied in that tale than that of a king killing a giant sea monster. Let’s look at what we’re told about this legend.

Grey King Battles Naga; Complete Guide to Westeros - Game of Thrones - Season 1 Blu-ray Edition

The deeds attributed to the Grey King by the priests and singers of the Iron Islands are many and marvelous. It was the Grey King who brought fire to the earth by taunting the Storm God until he lashed down with a thunderbolt, setting a tree ablaze. The Grey King also taught men to weave nets and sails and carved the first longship from the hard pale wood of Ygg, a demon tree who fed on human flesh. The Grey King's greatest feat, however, was the slaying of Nagga, largest of the sea dragons, a beast so colossal that she was said to feed on leviathans and giant krakens and drown whole islands in her wroth. The Grey King built a mighty longhall about her bones, using her ribs as beams and rafters. From there he ruled the Iron Islands for a thousand years, until his very skin had turned as grey as his hair and beard. Only then did he cast aside his driftwood crown and walk into the sea, descending to the Drowned God's watery halls to take his rightful place at his right hand. —The World of Ice and Fire - The Iron Islands: Driftwood Crowns

George names his Nagga sea dragon after the real world mythological Naga of South Asian culture who are seen as demigods.

In various Asian religious traditions, the Nagas are a divine, or semi-divine, race of half-human, half-serpent beings that reside in the netherworld (Patala), and can occasionally take human or part-human form, or are so depicted in art. —Wikipedia

In Indian religions, Patala (that which is below the feet), denotes the subterranean realms of the universe – which are located under the earthly dimension. Patala is often translated as underworld or netherworld. — Wikipedia

Nagas are associated with bodies of waters such as tributaries, rivers, lakes, seas, and wells. They are also seen as guardians of treasure. In George’s world of ASOIAF, the weirwood net is the underworld, and what greater treasure might there be to guard than one that could give access to immortality. Keep this thought, as well as the fact that they are said to sometimes take half human form in mind as I will come back to both later.

The Ironborn gives us a legend about their ancient king killing a sea dragon. Were there such things as giant sea dragons in ancient Westerosi history, and might they still exist? Possibly. After all, the story has giant flying fire breathing dragons.

However, that’s not the point of the legend. Keeping in mind that George uses the sea to symbolize the weirwood net, might the Grey King’s slaying of Nagga be there to tell us something else. Might it be there to tell us not about a battle between a king and a sea monster, but rather about one in or over access to the green sea/weirwood net. Let’s see what else the books tell us about this legend.

On the crown of the hill four-and-forty monstrous stone ribs rose from the earth like the trunks of great pale trees. The sight made Aeron's heart beat faster. Nagga had been the first sea dragon, the mightiest ever to rise from the waves. She fed on krakens and leviathans and drowned whole islands in her wrath, yet the Grey King had slain her and the Drowned God had changed her bones to stone so that men might never cease to wonder at the courage of the first of kings. Nagga's ribs became the beams and pillars of his longhall, just as her jaws became his throne. For a thousand years and seven he reigned here, Aeron recalled. Here he took his mermaid wife and planned his wars against the Storm God. From here he ruled both stone and salt, wearing robes of woven seaweed and a tall pale crown made from Nagga's teeth. —A Feast for Crows - The Drowned Man

There is an overabundance of symbolism and clues drop by George in the above passage. I could have bolded the entire chapter, but I only did a few lines for this discussion. Here we see that Aeron’s thoughts about Nagga and the Grey King build upon what we’re told in the World Book. What I especially want to discuss now is his thought that Nagga’s stone ribs look like the trunk of great pale trees. Hmmm! Great pale trees…where might we have seen such a reference before?

The sun was sinking below the trees when they reached their destination, a small clearing in the deep of the wood where nine weirwoods grew in a rough circle. Jon drew in a breath, and he saw Sam Tarly staring. Even in the wolfswood, you never found more than two or three of the white trees growing together; a grove of nine was unheard of. The forest floor was carpeted with fallen leaves, bloodred on top, black rot beneath. The wide smooth trunks were bone pale, and nine faces stared inward. The dried sap that crusted in the eyes was red and hard as ruby. Bowen Marsh commanded them to leave their horses outside the circle. "This is a sacred place, we will not defile it." —A Game of Thrones, Jon VI

Nagga’s bones sound and awful lot like the limbs of a weirwood tree, but is that just happenstance? Let’s dig a bit more.

They seated the hedge knights well below the salt, closer to the doors than to the dais. Whitewalls was almost new as castles went, having been raised a mere forty years ago by the grandsire of its present lord. The smallfolk hereabouts called it the Milk house, for its walls and keeps and towers were made of finely dressed white stone, quarried in the Vale and brought over the mountains at great expense. Inside were floors and pillars of milky white marble veined with gold; the rafters overhead were carved from the bone-pale trunks of weirwoods. Dunk could not begin to imagine what all of that had cost. —The Mystery Knight

If those passages are not enough to convince you that the famous bones of Nagga are not of a giant sea dragon, but rather a weirwood tree cut down by Grey King to build his longhall, don’t forget that we have a more recent record in the text of an Ironborn king cutting down weirwoods to do just that. I’m of course talking about Harren the Black.

In his pride, Harren had desired the highest hall and tallest towers in all Westeros. Forty years it had taken, rising like a great shadow on the shore of the lake while Harren's armies plundered his neighbors for stone, lumber, gold, and workers. Thousands of captives died in his quarries, chained to his sledges, or laboring on his five colossal towers. Men froze by winter and sweltered in summer. Weirwoods that had stood three thousand years were cut down for beams and rafters. —A Clash of Kings - Catelyn I

The Grey King’s crown is another clue that Nagga’s bone are the limbs of a petrified weirwood. Note up above, it was said to be made from Nagga’s teeth and yet we also get this passage from the world book that seems to contradict this idea.

The Grey King built a mighty longhall about her bones, using her ribs as beams and rafters. From there he ruled the Iron Islands for a thousand years, until his very skin had turned as grey as his hair and beard. Only then did he cast aside his driftwood crown and walk into the sea, descending to the Drowned God's watery halls to take his rightful place at his right hand. The World of Ice and Fire - The Iron Islands: Driftwood Crowns

So was the Grey King’s crown made from the teeth of a sea dragon, or was it made of wood? George put the icing on the cake regarding Nagga’s bones being a petrified weirwood with this little bit about Galon Whitestaff, a past ironborn priest.

The power wielded by these prophets of the Drowned God over the ironborn should not be underestimated. Only they could summon kingsmoots, and woe to the man, be he lord or king, who dared defy them. The greatest of the priests was the towering prophet Galon Whitestaff, so-called for the tall carved staff he carried everywhere to smite the ungodly. (In some tales his staff was made of weirwood, in others from one of Nagga's bones.) —The World of Ice and Fire - The Iron Islands: Driftwood Crowns

In some tales Galon’s staff was made of weirwood and in others from Nagga’s bones. Seems obvious that George is deliberately conflating the two and wants the reader to do the same. What other evidence is needed?

The petrified bones of some gigantic sea creature do indeed stand on Nagga's Hill on Old Wyk, but whether they are actually the bones of a sea dragon remains open to dispute. The ribs are huge, but nowise near large enough to have belonged to a dragon capable of feasting on leviathans and giant krakens. In truth, the very existence of sea dragons has been called into question by some. If such monsters do exist, they must surely dwell in the deepest, darkest reaches of the Sunset Sea, for none has been seen in the known world for thousands of years. So say the legends and the priests of the Drowned God. —The World of Ice and Fire - The Iron Islands: Driftwood Crowns

Nagga's Hill by Lake Hurwitz © Fantasy Flight Games

Those maesters, always questioning and discounting the ancient myths, but this time, they might be on to something.

This is all pretty strong evidence that Nagga’s bones are the limbs of a cut down weirwood and not those of a sea dragon. However, while not the bones of a sea dragon, there is one other option other than just a cut down weirwood tree, and this one may make more sense.

As proposed by many in the fandom, the bones that Aeron views upon the hill might be the petrified remnant of the Grey King’s longship, carved from the cut down weirwood tree.

A demon tree of hard “pale wood” that is said to have fed on human flesh. As there are major clues that men were sacrificed to the weirwoods in the books, this passage seems to imply that the Grey King’s longship was also made of that special wood. Ygg is of course, George’s homage to Yggdrasil, the world tree of Norse mythology.

Viking Longship wreck - Roskilde Viking Ship Musem

It was there beneath the arch of Nagga's ribs that his drowned men found him, standing tall and stern with his long black hair blowing in the wind. "Is it time?" Rus asked. Aeron gave a nod, and said, "It is. Go forth and sound the summons."— A Feast for Crows - The Drowned Man

As you can see, a Viking longship more closely matches up to the arch of Nagga’s ribs than would be the case of an actual tree. Also, as Crowfood’s Daughter has pointed out in her awesome video essay series on the ironborn, for trees to remain curved or arched in the manner of Nagga’s ribs, they would need to retain their limbs of leaves.

We also see from this Jon’s passage that longships would have the shape of Nagga’s bones.

He swiveled the eye east and searched amongst the tents and trees till he found the turtle. That will be coming very soon as well. The wildlings had skinned one of the dead mammoths during the night, and they were lashing the raw bloody hide over the turtle's roof, one more layer on top of the sheepskins and pelts. The turtle had a rounded top and eight huge wheels, and under the hides was a stout wooden frame. When the wildlings had begun knocking it together, Satin thought they were building a ship. Not far wrong. The turtle was a hull turned upside down and opened fore and aft; a longhall on wheels. — A Storm of Swords - Jon IX

And as Jaime notes in ADWD, weirwood trees or the wood it generates never rot. It simply turns to stone over millennium.

"The Brackens poisoned it," said his host. "For a thousand years it has not shown a leaf. In another thousand it will have turned to stone, the maesters say. Weirwoods never rot." — A Dance with Dragons - Jaime I

There are lots of other passages in the text where boats are compared to sea dragons, including the one Petyr uses to take Sansa to the Vale. However, we are specifically discussing the Grey King, and so we’ll leave those other comparisons alone for now. Nonetheless, I’m sure that you can see that the textural evidence supporting the theory that Nagga’s bones are those of a petrified weirwood longship is quite strong.

You’re probably now asking yourself, what does the ironborn’s holy relic on Old Wyk whose legend is built around the myth of the Grey King slaying of a sea dragon have to do Florian and Jonquil or more specifically, the original question about dragonflies. That’s a good question, and so let me attempt to answer.

I said up above that battles in the sea or the pools of water are often meant to represent battles in the weirwoods or over the weirwoods to gain entry to their magic. So, if Nagga was not really a sea monster, but instead a weirwood tree or a longship made of weirwood, does this mean that the battle described in the Grey King legend was one such event? More importantly, if Nagga’s bones is a weirwood longship, who or what did the Grey King slay? You can cut down a tree, but would it be described as slaying? I don’t think so.

Let’s look at what else the books tell us about this Ironborn legend to see if we can discover the answer.

From the Aeron passage posted above, we discover that “Nagga had been the first sea dragon, the mightiest ever to rise from the waves.” We also find out in TWOIAF that the Grey King was said to reign for a thousand years and seven. In the books, when you hear of figures living for such a long time, one immediately wonders whether they were born greenseers or gain access to the weirwoods in some manner.

In the case of the Grey King, I think the answer is the latter. He was able to gain access to the trees. If this was the case, how did it happen? You may have missed it above when I posted the excerpt because I didn’t bold the text but another piece of his legend may give us a clue.

What is described in the passage is basically the Grey King symbolically stealing the fire of the gods and using it to set a weirwood ablaze. In mythology, stealing the fire of the gods is about gaining knowledge…often that of immortality. And in ASOIAF, immortality comes via the weirwoods.

When you recognize that aspect of the myth, you can see that the Grey King legend is that of a man stealing the knowledge of the weirwoods, and the ones he stole if from were the old gods—the greenseers.

So, how did the Grey King steal the fire of the gods? Well, his mermaid wife; his battle with the Storm God, and another ancient myth may provide the answer.

The legends surrounding the founder of House Durrandon, Durran Godsgrief, all come to us through the singers. The songs tell us that Durran won the heart of Elenei, daughter of the sea god and the goddess of the wind. By yielding to a mortal's love, Elenei doomed herself to a mortal's death, and for this the gods who had given her birth hated the man she had taken for her lord husband. In their wroth, they sent howling winds and lashing rains to knock down every castle Durran dared to build, until a young boy helped him erect one so strong and cunningly made that it could defy their gales. The boy grew to be Brandon the Builder; Durran became the first Storm King. With Elenei at his side, he lived and reigned at Storm's End for a thousand years, or so the stories claim. (Such a life span seems most unlikely, even for a hero married to the daughter of two gods. Archmaester Glaive, himself a stormlander by birth, once suggested that this King of a Thousand Years was in truth a succession of monarchs all bearing the same name, which seems plausible but must forever remain unproved.) The World of Ice and Fire - The Stormlands: House Durrandon

Durran and Elenei, Complete Guide to Westeros - Game of Thrones - Season 1 Blu-ray Edition

The legend of Durran Godsgrief and his wife Elenei has a lot of similarity to that of the Grey King and his mermaid wife. Too many for it just to be mere happenstance. It seems obvious that George wants us to consider the two, side by side, and so, what might he be trying to tell us?

They both married daughters of the sea. In the Durran myth, we learn that his wife Elenei was the daughter of the sea god while the Grey King is said to have married a mermaid. Both Duran and the Grey King also battled against gods…the latter against the storm god, while the former was said to have war against the sea god.

Taking the similarities of the two legends into account, it seems obvious that Elenei like the wife of the Grey King, was herself a mermaid, and that’ why she’s often depicted in this way in fan art. She is even depicted as a mermaid in the Complete Guide to Westeros featurette on the blue-ray edition of Game of Thrones Season One, which we have to assume was approved by George.

In GRRM’s mythological world of ASOIAF, mermaids are merlings and their leader is the Merling King. And he is considered a god. He is the sea god to who sailors pray.

Thirty different gods stood along the walls, surrounded by their little lights. The Weeping Woman was the favorite of old women, Arya saw; rich men preferred the Lion of Night, poor men the Hooded Wayfarer. Soldiers lit candles to Bakkalon, the Pale Child, sailors to the Moon-Pale Maiden and the Merling King. The Stranger had his shrine as well, though hardly anyone ever came to him. Most of the time only a single candle stood flickering at his feet. The kindly man said it did not matter. "He has many faces, and many ears to hear." — A Feast for Crows - Arya II

The interesting thing is that in real world mythology, and I suspect George is doing the same in ASOIAF, mermaids are sea nymphs. In some real-world cultures, they are called mermaids, and in others, sirens. And like in George’s tale, they are usually described as daughters of river or sea gods.

In many real world cultures such of those on the Asian and African continents, sea dragons such as Nāgas or the Watatsumi/Ryūjin of Japanese culture can take human or half human form…you know like the mermaids of our story. These sea dragons are also considered deities. They are sea gods.

As I’ve stated, George writes in symbolism, and there are multiple layers to his story. When he tells us historical legends, there is the surface story that you can read and interpret exactly as written and then there is the deeper symbolism that provides answers to the book’s mysteries. Usually, this hidden layer is about the weirwoods and events of the past.

The myths about Durran Godsgrief and the Grey King are two such legends that are filled with much deeper meaning and reveal much about ancient events. On the surface, they are traditional societal creation myths.

However, when you consider that the green sea and bodies of water are George’s way of symbolizing the weirwood net, as written about by rravenousreader, and confirmed on the show by Bloodraven, one can see that on a deeper level, these two legends are about accessing the weirwoods.

So, if Elenei was a mermaid who could assume both human and half human shape as is implied by her being a daughter of the sea god and the legend of her relationship with Duran, it means she was also a sea dragon. And if Elenei was a sea dragon, it also means that the Grey King’s mermaid wife was one as well. This revelation tells us a lot because, if Nagga’s ribs are not those of a sea dragon, but the petrified remains of the Grey King’s longship, which was made from the weirwood he set ablaze; as you can’t slay a tree, it can only mean that the sea dragon he slew to access the knowledge of the gods, was his mermaid wife.

Grey King and his mermaid wife by Justin Sweet for the 2024 ASOIAF Calendar

I love this latest painting by Justin Sweet of the Grey King and his mermaid wife. I especially love the suggestion that she was a redhead, but back to the story at hand.

Nagga was his both his mermaid/greenseer wife and her weirwood tree. This is how he gained access to the weirwoods and immortality and was said to live for 1000 years and seven. This is why there are so many clues that the remains of Nagga on Old Wyk are those of a ship. It’s to tell us that the Grey King’s killing of his mermaid wife gave him the access and the knowledge to sail the green sea.

I’ve listened to and read many theories that discuss the likelihood that Nagga’s bones are either those of a weirwood tree and or a longship. What I’ve never seen is the theory I propose here that the Grey King killed his wife. This is not to say that the theory does not exist. After all, there are tons of theories about the story that I have not read, but back to Nagga.

As George is always consistent in his symbolism, this is why in Asha’s Wayward Bride chapter, the trees are always written as attacking her and the other ironborn. The trees memories are eternal, and they remember the actions of the Grey King.

Men and mounts alike were trotting by the time they reached the trees on the far side of the sodden field, where dead shoots of winter wheat rotted beneath the moon. Asha held her horsemen back as a rear guard, to keep the stragglers moving and see that no one was left behind. Tall soldier pines and gnarled old oaks closed in around them. Deepwood was aptly named. The trees were huge and dark, somehow threatening. Their limbs wove through one another and creaked with every breath of wind, and their higher branches scratched at the face of the moon. The sooner we are shut of here, the better I will like it, Asha thought. The trees hate us all, deep in their wooden hearts. — A Dance with Dragons - The Wayward Bride

Now there are no weirwoods mentioned in this passage, but there are weirwoods in Deepwood Motte. And throughout this Asha chapter, there are repeated passages that make it seem as if the trees are alive and out to get the ironborn. Northmen even cover themselves in branches and attack Asha’s party. It’s as if the trees see the ironborn as the enemy.

As an aside, I love The Wayward Bride chapter and it’s one I heavily recommend re-reading. Asha ran away from the man Euron promised her to as a bride…hence the title. However, if you re-read, instead of thinking of Asha as “the wayward bride,” think instead of her as “the weirwood bride,” and you will see the echoes of a story about a runaway magical bride in the ancient past. The chapter title is one of George’s best uses of wordplay in the series.

No, I’m not saying that Asha is a greenseer, only that the chapter is there to tell us about events past and present events surrounding a “weirwood bride” who may have run off to escape her husband or fiancé, or else been “stolen” away by her lover. Re-reading the chapter with this idea in mind is a smorgasbord of symbolism and clues about events, but back to the tale at hand.

Further to the idea that the trees remember and have it in for the ironborn, it’s quite likely that the Grey King did not escape punishment when he killed his sea dragon wife. It is very interesting that Nagga’s jaws became the Grey King’s throne. When you look at how his skin is described as turning as grey as his beard, and him sitting inside Nagga’s mouth, it’s as if he’s trapped within the jaws of death.

Grey King on his throne by Arthur Bozonnet for TWOIAF

This symbolism makes sense as weirwoods are traps for the unwary. That’s why George named it after a real-world weir, which is a trap for fish. So, while the Grey King killed the first greenseer, he did not get off scot-free. He was instead trapped by Nagga’s maw. He was trapped by the weirwoods.

This idea is echoed in images of the primordial Aztec Goddess Tlaltecuhtli.

One of Tlaltecuhtli’s most distinctive features is her gaping maw, showing flint knives for teeth and a protruding tongue. Her hands and feet are often clawed, bringing to mind both predatory birds and carrion-eaters. Above she is pictured with skull masks at her elbows and feet as well as in her hands. Her birth-giving posture connects her to frog imagery. The open mouth of the Tlaltecuhtli can be seen as a tomb — or as a womb. On the first page from the Tonalámatl de los Pochtecas the Earth Goddess appears, jaws wide, teeth exposed. Out of her mouth grows the tree of life. The tree of life growing from these jaws of death completes this picture of the earth as womb and tomb, and of the mouth and eating as analogous to birth and death. —Sacred Tours of Mexico

The ironborn believe that their Drowned God and Grey King are separate entities. I would argue that they are the same and this separation of the two on their part is simply confusion about the myth that developed over the millennium. The Grey King who slew his mermaid wife and the Drowned God who turned her bones to stone are one and the same because the two acts are separate descriptions of the same event. He’s both because he failed in his quest to take over and rule the weirwood net. He was trapped and drowned in his attempt to sail the green sea.

She fed on krakens and leviathans and drowned whole islands in her wrath, yet the Grey King had slain her and the Drowned God had changed her bones to stone so that men might never cease to wonder at the courage of the first of kings. Nagga's ribs became the beams and pillars of his longhall, just as her jaws became his throne. —A Feast for Crows – The Drowned Man

The Grey King built a mighty longhall about her bones, using her ribs as beams and rafters. From there he ruled the Iron Islands for a thousand years, until his very skin had turned as grey as his hair and beard. Only then did he cast aside his driftwood crown and walk into the sea, descending to the Drowned God's watery halls to take his rightful place at his right hand. —The World of Ice and Fire - The Iron Islands: Driftwood Crowns

Sea dragons may or may not exist in the mythical world of ASOIAF, but we likely will never see one on the page. This is because the true purpose of their legend in the story is to tell us about female greenseers. They act as symbolic stand-ins for female greenseers, the original dragons of the green sea and provide clues on what happened to them.

Those of you who have read my previous essays likely remember my theory that because of the hive mind aspect of the weirwoods, we can deduce that the weirwood net was originally built around a queen, because as I noted, hives do not have kings. The sea dragon in the Grey King legend is said to be the first of its kind. Thus, the greenseer mermaid wife slew by the Grey King was also the first greenseer.

You also likely know my theory that Nissa Nissa was the first greenseer. If my theory about his mermaid wife being the sea dragon slew by the Grey King is correct, one can also see how this legend echoes that of Azor Ahai killing his wife Nissa Nissa; the Bloodstone Emperor usurping and killing his sister wife, Amethyst Empress; and the Winged Knight usurping Ellyn Eversweet. The latter being a tale of usurpation is not one I’ve seen discussed anywhere else in the fandom, and so you can read about it here.

How can all these ancient legends be of the same wife killing event, and why so many different names for the characters. Originally, I thought that the similarities and variations in the legends were a case of a world changing monomyth such as the great flood of our real-world myths appearing in so many different cultures. It could also be George simply creating different myths to drop clues for the reader to piece together. Both still maybe the case.

However, in the last few years, after reading more about GRRM’s other books, and reading a couple, I’ve come to embrace the idea that he’s playing with the theme of time travel that runs through many of his previous works. I think that we might be dealing with the same world changing event echoing through multiple timelines of the great cosmic ocean…hence the different names and the use of spiral motifs in both the books and show.

Messier 61 in Constellation Virgo taken by camera on Hubble Telescope

The weirwoods, as we saw on the show and is hinted at in the books, are a time travel mechanism. A greenseer doesn’t physically travel through time, but they can send their consciousness into the past, and quite likely the future. As we see with Bran and Hodor, strong ones can have an impact on individuals who exist outside the river of time, and this means they can affect the timeline.

Bran is only the latest of many greenseers, one who has not yet joined with the hive mind. As such, I think it’s shortsighted to assume that he is the only such greenseer throughout history who has had an impact on or tried to change the timelines…especially since men—in the masculine gained access to the trees.

George is a chess player, and he has set up his story as a great chess match. Who the two great players are still must be determine, but one only must look at the Others, as well as Euron’s arc to see a couple of the possibilities.

In fact, as we see in this passage, which I’ve read a million times and totally missed until watching Crowfood’s Daughter recent video on the “The Third Head of the Dragon,” one of these entities may already be in contact with Euron.

I had a love once too. Victarion's hands coiled into fists, and a drop of blood fell to patter on the floor. I should beat you raw and red and feed you to the crabs, the same as I did her. "You have sons," he told his brother. "Baseborn mongrels, born of whores and weepers." "They are of your body." "So are the contents of my chamber pot. None is fit to sit the Seastone Chair, much less the Iron Throne. No, to make an heir that's worthy of him, I need a different woman. When the kraken weds the dragon, brother, let all the world beware." "What dragon?" said Victarion, frowning. "The last of her line. They say she is the fairest woman in the world. Her hair is silver-gold, and her eyes are amethysts . . . but you need not take my word for it, brother. Go to Slaver's Bay, behold her beauty, and bring her back to me." —A Feast for Crows - The Reaver

As Amanda asks in the video, who exactly is him that Euron speaks of? He’s speaking in third person, and so although we know he plans to rule over the charnel pits as a new god, he’s not talking about himself. Might it be the other chess player. It’s certainly possible. With the reference to Dany’s amethyst eyes, Euron’s possible association with Asshai and glass candles, I would say it’s the Bloodstone Emperor entity.

Here is the interesting thing about these repetitive ancient versions of the monomyth; there seems to be two versions of the tale of the female greenseer and her husband. One version is dark as with the ones I mentioned above including that of the Grey King killing his mermaid wife; and Azor Ahai killing Nissa Nissa where the kiss from husband to wife is of the steel variety.

The other version has softer romantic overtones as with Durran and Elenei; Florian and Jonquil; and yes, even the Night’s King and his corpse queen. There has been no indication thus far in the text that the male figures in these tales killed their female partner. In fact, their legends are just the opposite.

In the softer versions of the myth such as the one with Elenei and Duran Godsgrief, the female greenseer seems to have protected their mate...that is protected them from dying in the green sea. That is why Duran survived so many storms sent against him by the storm god. He drowned but like the myth of the Little Mermaid and her prince, he was given the kiss of life and brought back by his wife.

This is where I differ from Amanda and her wonderful video essay series about the Grey King. I don't think that his mermaid wife gave him the kiss of life. He killed her and she trapped him in the green sea...hence the Drowned God myth of the ironborn. And as he often does, George also gives us the opposite side of the myth in the same legend as we see in the ironborn doctrine of "what is dead will never die," and their practice of the "kiss of life."

Another tale that mirrors the ancient monomyth of the Azor Ahai/Nissa Nissa figures is the tale of Brienne’s ancient ancestor, Galladon of the Morne. However, it’s not quite clear where this legend falls. One wants to say it’s a more positive aspect of the myth because George names the male after the heroic Sir Gallahad of Arthurian fame, and we are told of the myth from Brienne, one of the most heroic personages in the entire series.

"Why would I lie?" she asked him. "Every place has its local heroes. Where I come from, the singers sing of Ser Galladon of Morne, the Perfect Knight." "Ser Gallawho of What?" He snorted. "Never heard o' him. Why was he so bloody perfect?" "Ser Galladon was a champion of such valor that the Maiden herself lost her heart to him. She gave him an enchanted sword as a token of her love. The Just Maid, it was called. No common sword could check her, nor any shield withstand her kiss. Ser Galladon bore the Just Maid proudly, but only thrice did he unsheathe her. He would not use the Maid against a mortal man, for she was so potent as to make any fight unfair." — A Feast for Crows - Brienne IV

Nonetheless, the Galladon/Maiden legend does have aspect of the darker side of the myth such as her gifting the “perfect knight” with an enchanted sword and “losing her heart” to him. Also note the comment that no regular sword could withstand her kiss. Lots of Nissa Nissa echoes in that passage, and George does like to upend traditional myths.

We’ve spent much time discussing sea dragons and mermaids and why they represent the seemingly missing female greenseers from the story, and now it’s time to move on to dragonflies, but before I do that, I want to briefly mention a bit of history about the Starks.

Even this did not give Winterfell dominion over all the North. Many other petty kings remained, ruling over realms great and small, and it would require thousands of years and many more wars before the last of them was conquered. Yet one by one, the Starks subdued them all, and during these struggles, many proud houses and ancient lines were extinguished forever.

Amongst the houses reduced from royals to vassals we can count the Flints of Breakstone Hill, the Slates of Blackpool, the Umbers of Last Hearth, the Lockes of Oldcastle, the Glovers of Deepwood Motte, the Fishers of the Stony Shore, the Ryders of the Rills...and mayhaps even the Blackwoods of Raventree, whose own family traditions insist they once ruled most of the wolfswood before being driven from their lands by the Kings of Winter (certain runic records support this claim, if Maester Barneby's translations can be trusted). Chronicles found in the archives of the Night's Watch at the Nightfort (before it was abandoned) speak of the war for Sea Dragon Point, wherein the Starks brought down the Warg King and his inhuman allies, the children of the forest. When the Warg King's last redoubt fell, his sons were put to the sword, along with his beasts and greenseers, whilst his daughters were taken as prizes by their conquerors. The World of Ice and Fire - The North: The Kings of Winter

If you analyze all the House names mentioned above, you will notice something in common about them, they all seem to be located at or close to water, or in deep forests where weirwoods would grow. Of course, there is no proving it unless George confirms the theory, but I would argue that these ancient houses that were conquered by the Starks were likely strong in either skin changing or greenseer abilities. And they held on to and married the daughters of the houses they conquered. This is why warg and greenseer abilities are so strong within the family. They have added the ability to their gene pool on many occasions over the generations.

Their war against the Warg King and the COTF at the suggestively named Sea Dragon Point is also very telling for all the reasons we previously discussed about sea dragons. And as we would expect, we see from this Wayward Bride passage that Sea Dragon Point is associated with weirwoods.

Asha tried to picture herself abed with Erik Ironmaker, crushed beneath his bulk, suffering his embraces. Better him than the Red Oarsman or Left-Hand Lucas Codd. The Anvil-Breaker had once been a roaring giant, fearsomely strong, fiercely loyal, utterly without fear. It might not be so bad. He's like to die the first time he tries to do his duty as a husband. That would make her Erik's widow instead of Erik's wife, which could be better or a good deal worse, depending on his grandsons. And my nuncle. In the end, all the winds blow me back toward Euron. "I have hostages, on Harlaw," she reminded him. "And there is still Sea Dragon Point … if I cannot have my father's kingdom, why not make one of my own?" Sea Dragon Point had not always been as thinly peopled as it was now. Old ruins could still be found amongst its hills and bogs, the remains of ancient strongholds of the First Men. In the high places, there were weirwood circles left by the children of the forest. "You are clinging to Sea Dragon Point the way a drowning man clings to a bit of wreckage. What does Sea Dragon have that anyone could ever want? There are no mines, no gold, no silver, not even tin or iron. The land is too wet for wheat or corn." I do not plan on planting wheat or corn. "What's there? I'll tell you. Two long coastlines, a hundred hidden coves, otters in the lakes, salmon in the rivers, clams along the shore, colonies of seals offshore, tall pines for building ships." A Dance with Dragons - The Wayward Bride

Note that the name of the peninsula is Sea Dragon Point as in a singular dragon, not plural. Also, notice how George casually throws in that wood for building ships can be found there. That George, always consistent.

I’ve talked a lot about sea dragons, mermaids, and ancient ironborn myths when this is supposed to be a chapter on Jenny and her Prince of Dragonflies; and how the two relate to Florian and Jonquil, and Jon and Sansa. Why so much ironborn?

Well, I went in-depth into the Grey King myth because I had to show you that seas dragons represent female greenseers. I had to show you instead of just telling you so you see my reasoning. More importantly, I had to do it this way so you will see the connection when I tell you that in the story, dragonflies should also be seen as sea dragons.

Dragonfly - earth.com

In fact, dragonflies are literal sea dragons, because in addition to having the word dragon in their name, they are also born in the sea. Female dragonflies lay their eggs in water, primarily swampy areas like bogs and swamps. Dragonflies spend practically all their life around such water.

The female lays eggs by tapping the surface of the water repeatedly with her abdomen, by shaking the eggs out of her abdomen as she flies along, or by placing the eggs on vegetation. In a few species, the eggs are laid on emergent plants above the water, and development is delayed until these have withered and become immersed. They take about a week to hatch into aquatic nymphs or naiads which moult between six and 15 times (depending on species) as they grow. Most of a dragonfly's life is spent as a nymph, beneath the water's surface. —Wikipedia

By the way, nymph comes from Ancient Greek and means bride.

Another interesting thing about the dragonfly is it is one of the few insects that can fly in all direction…forwards, backwards, up, down, and sideways. Thus, you can see that as sea dragons, they are the perfect symbolic representation of greenseers—individuals who can send their consciousness forward and backwards in time as it were.

This ability to fly in all directions is also present in a certain “little bird.” In fact, it’s the only bird that has this ability. The bird in question would be the hummingbird. Knowing George, do we think this is just happenstance…especially as the little bird is a popular sight in the American West and Southwest, with Arizona and New Mexico major stops in their migration progress.

The hummingbird reference is just an additional anecdote that supports my theory about Sansa being a greenseer, which I discussed here. Let me tell you another one about dragonflies that also has to do with New Mexico and the American Southwest, where we know that our author has lived for over 40 years.

Many fans have pointed out that the tale of Hades and Persephone play an important symbolic role in ASOIAF. I’ve gone further and pointed out how this legend is baked into the myth of the Nights King and his corpse queen. I’ve discussed how Arya’s childhood memory of the kids playing in the crypts wherein Jon covered himself in flour and stepped out of the crypt like a ghost does not just foreshadow his death, but also positions him as Hades, the King of the underworld, and Sansa who runs away in fear as Persephone. You can read all about this theory here.

I’ve discussed how Persephone was kidnapped from the Vale of Nysa, and what that potentially means when you consider the story of Nissa Nissa. I also covered how in Biblical times, the Vale of Nysa was mountainous and swampy, which echoes the area surrounding the river Styx that leads to the realm of Hades. This area was very like the Neck of ASOIAF, which is the entry point to the Northern underworld.

I’ve talked about how the real-world honey making Nysa deciduous also grows in bogs and swamps. If, as I’ve proposed, the corpse queen is a symbolic sea dragon because she’s a female greenseer and is also the Persephone character of the story, then it makes sense that she’s heavily associated with water, just as Sansa is via her Tully heritage.

As we see in the text, every time the word dragonfly is mentioned, it is associated with water. This includes reference to Oldstones in the Jenny and Duncan legend as that ruined stronghold sits on a hill above the blue fork of the Trident. Note that it sits above the “blue” fork giving it icy symbolism. As I keep saying, George is never not consistent with his symbolism.

The galley skimmed the water like a dragonfly, her oars rising and falling in perfect time. Ser Rodrik held the rail and looked out over the passing shore. "I have not been the most valiant of protectors."— A Game of Thrones - Catelyn IV

The galley was skimming downriver, a great wooden dragonfly. The water around her was churned white by the furious action of her oars. — A Storm of Swords - Jaime I

The sun was overhead, the world still and hot. Midges swarmed in the air, and a dragonfly floated over the stream, darting here and there. And the grass was moving when it had no cause to move. —A Dance with Dragons

To say again, dragonflies are symbolic sea dragons. And in the story, the myth of the sea dragon is one about the usurpation of the first greenseer who was female. So, when on the show we saw Petry give advice to Sansa that could have come straight out of the greenseer training handbook, it was hinting at something. This dialogue was the type that one would expect to come from Bloodraven to Bran, who we know is a greenseer.

You can watch the clip here, but I’ve transcribed the dialog below.

Don’t fight in the North or in the South. Fight every battle everywhere, always in your mind. Everyone is your enemy. Everyone is your friend. Every possible series of events is happening all at once. Live that way, and nothing will surprise you. Everything that happens will be something that you’ve seen before. —A Game of Thrones, Season 7, Ep 3

That is the advice you give to a greenseer in training. It’s also how great chess players think. What happens right after this scene with Petyr and Sansa, Bran the greenseer arrives. Now some will say that the comment from Petyr was to introduce Bran in the next scene but as I’ve always said, there were a million and one ways for them to have set up Bran and Sansa’s reunion without that piece of dialogue. This advice that perfectly describes a greenseer was not needed from Petyr to Sansa of all people.

This scene was one of the ways D&D hinted at Sansa’s greenseer abilities on the show without coming out and saying so. This is because to do so, would have upended their decision to have a Jon and Dany romantic relationship on the show, something I steadfastly believe won’t happen in the books.

Some other clues were the ringing of the bells all day at her birth, Arya’s, “she’s smarter than anyone I know, which came out of nowhere” and most importantly, the continued use of the dragonfly motif in her costumes. They were basically shouting in silence; Sansa is a sea dragon/greenseer.

The show incorporated dragonflies into Sansa’s costumes in so many different instances and ways, that it’s clear it wasn’t just happenstance but deliberate on their part. It was embroidered into dresses; worn as a necklaces and pins; and of course, her Season 8 dress of scales shimmered like dragonfly wings. Many fans have commented on the use of sea dragon motif in her costumes before me, including @castaliareed who wrote about the dragonfly influence on her leather armor here. I really loved that fine.

Now, I want you to remember all the clues I and others in the fandom have discussed that point to Sansa being the Persephone of the story. Would you then be surprised if I told you that there is a dragonfly named after the Greek Goddess.

Aeshna persephone, Persephone's darner, is a species of dragonfly in the family Aeshnidae. It is found in northern Mexico and the southwestern United States. Its natural habitats are rivers and intermittent rivers.—Wikipedia

You can read all about its discovery in Arizona in 1954 here, but I copied a brief section below, because when I read the passage, I immediately saw echoes in a passage from the world book.

Aeshna persephone is most closely related to A. palmata, and appears to be confined to Arizona, whereas palmata has not been taken in that state. The name is suggested by the habitat of this large and colorful dragonfly. In contrast to the sunny streams and ponds favored by most of its North American congeners, it inhabits mountain streams which are lighted by the sun’s rays for only a few hours each day, though it ascends periodically through the forest gloom to the sun-lit mountain slopes.—Biodiversity Heritage Library

Aeshna Persephone Darner

The passage above suggests that the Persephone dragonfly got its name from the dark mountainous area where it was discovered. Except for no mentions of swamps, and I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the rivers are such as that’s the natural habitat of dragonflies, the description reads a lot like the dark mountainous region of the river Styx that leads to Hades, which supports the theory I’ve proposed above.

Also, and this is very important, let’s not forget that our author has lived in New Mexico, smacked dab in the middle of the region that’s the native habitat for the Aeshna Persephone for over 40 years.

Dragonflies, like hummingbirds are prevalent in the American Southwest and are sighted all over the area. There are tours to their breeding grounds and hiking trails named after them all over the area. There is even a popular tourist attraction called Dragonfly Sanctuary Pond, the first of its kind in the country at the Albuquerque Bio Park in New Mexico.

Do we really think that George is not aware of the Persephone darner when he is so well read and knowledgeable, but more importantly has placed the myth of Hades and Persephone at the core of his ASOIAF legend of the Nights King and corpse queen. And it’s not just the inclusion of H&P myth, he also added dragonflies as an important symbol of his magical greenseers.

Yes. I think that it’s safe to say that George is aware of the Aeshna Persephone dragonfly.

The passage from the article discussing the discovery of the Aeshna Persephone also reminds me of this passage from the world book. I’m not sure it means anything, but the article was written in 1961 and so I’ve wondered if George came across it in his research. There is a fandom theory that Asshai was once the capital of TGEOTD, and thus would have been where the Bloodstone Emperor and the Amethyst Empress resided. Like I said, I’m not sure it means anything. In this instance, likely just happenstance, but I thought I would mention it.

On its way from the Mountains of the Morn to the sea, the Ash runs howling through a narrow cleft in the mountains, between towering cliffs so steep and close that the river is perpetually in shadow, save for a few moments at midday when the sun is at its zenith. — The World of Ice and Fire - The Bones and Beyond: Asshai-by-the-Shadow

So, let’s finally talk about Jenny and Duncan, her Prince of Dragonflies beginning with this passage from The Hedge Knight.

A hedge knight must hold tight to his pride. Without it, he was no more than a sellsword. I must earn my place in that company. If I fight well, some lord may take me into his household. I will ride in noble company then, and eat fresh meat every night in a castle hail, and raise my own pavilion at tourneys. But first I must do well. Reluctantly, he turned his back on the tourney grounds and led his horses into the trees. On the outskirts of the great meadow a good half mile from town and castle he found a place where a bend in a brook had formed a deep pool. Reeds grew thick along its edge, and a tall leafy elm presided over all. The spring grass there was as green as any knight's banner and soft to the touch. It was a pretty spot, and no one had yet laid claim to it. This will be my pavilion, Dunk told himself, a pavilion roofed with leaves, greener even than the banners of the Tyrells and the Estermonts. His horses came first. After they had been tended, he stripped and waded into the pool to wash away the dust of travel. "A true knight is cleanly as well as godly," the old man always said, insisting that they wash themselves head to heels every time the moon turned, whether they smelled sour or not. Now that he was a knight, Dunk vowed he would do the same. He sat naked under the elm while he dried, enjoying the warmth of the spring air on his skin as he watched a dragonfly move lazily among the reeds. Why would they name it a dragonfly? he wondered. It looks nothing like a dragon. Not that Dunk had ever seen a dragon. The old man had, though. Dunk had heard the story half a hundred times, how Ser Arlan had been just a little boy when his grandfather had taken him to King's Landing, and how they'd seen the last dragon there the year before it died. She'd been a green female, small and stunted, her wings withered. None of her eggs had ever hatched. "Some say King Aegon poisoned her," the old man would tell. "The third Aegon that would be, not King Daeron's father, but the one they named Dragonbane, or Aegon the Unlucky. He was afraid of dragons, for he'd seen his uncle's beast devour his own mother. The summers have been shorter since the last dragon died, and the winters longer and crueler."— The Hedge Knight

I included this long passage from The Hedge Knight not just to show a reference to a dragonfly in the text but to also show how George answers Dunk’s question while seemingly talking about the last fire dragon.

This is one of those passages I mentioned to be on the lookout for when you see a water reference in the text. In this instance because a dragonfly is present in the scene, you should pay particular attention. It’s basically a scene symbolizing the green sea/weirwood net.

Let’s start with how Dunk leads his horses into the “trees,” symbolically the weirwood net. And what does he find there, nothing but greenery because it’s the green sea. Spring grass as green as any knight’s banner; a tall elm tree with sprouting leaves even greener than the banners of House Tyrell and Estermont of Greenstone.

Interesting choice of house banners to reference…one that has “a rose” in a field of green, and the other that utilizes George’s favorite animal, a turtle, also in a field of green. Sigils that can be said to be floating in a sea of green.

I could also go into detail and post excerpts about real-world myths from many different regions of the world wherein ships are considered the horses of the sea, but you will have to just take my word for it. Thus, when Dunk takes his horses into the trees/green sea, you can symbolically see them as ships or sea horses sailing the green sea.

Where is all this greenery located? Well, it symbolizes the green sea and so, as one would expect, it’s next to a body of water. In this case, a stream that forms into a pool from which Dunk takes a bath.

Reeds are also growing deep along the edges, which tells you that this stream is also swamp/wetland like because that’s where reeds grow. And what is flying around in this green sea, a dragonfly…a sea dragon. Then Dunk wonders what’s difference between dragons and dragonflies. Why does the latter have that name when it looks nothing like a dragon?

As he’s wont to do, George gives the answer while seemingly talking about the last fire dragon. He incorporates the answer into all the green symbolism of the scene. Dragonflies maybe small, but they are green dragons of the green sea, and whatever happened to the original sea dragon, the first of her kind is why the weather has been out of whacked for thousands of years.

There is one other passage from The Hedge Knight that I want to mention because I think it’s one of the most important clues about the entire series. It’s the one where Prince Maekar offers Dunk a place in his household.

"That can be changed," said Maekar. "Aegon is to return to my castle at Summerhall. There is a place there for you, if you wish. A knight of my household. You'll swear your sword to me, and Aegon can squire for you. While you train him, my master-at-arms will finish your own training." The prince gave him a shrewd look. "Your Ser Arlan did all he could for you, I have no doubt, but you still have much to learn." "I know, m'lord." Dunk looked about him. At the green grass and the reeds, the tall elm, the ripples dancing across the surface of the sunlit pool. Another dragonfly was moving across the water, or perhaps it was the same one. What shall it be, Dunk? he asked himself. Dragonflies or dragons? A few days ago he would have answered at once. It was all he had ever dreamed, but now that the prospect was at hand it frightened him. "Just before Prince Baelor died, I swore to be his man."

Dragonflies or dragons? The conflict at the heart of the series. The sea dragons/dragonflies had access to the weirwoods and the fire dragons in the form of Azor Ahai, the Bloodstone Emperor and many other symbolic representations wanted access, which led to the killing of the first sea dragon/greenseer.

In a way, Dunk’s choice was a symbolic “hedging” of his bet or rather, putting off the decision. He chose the dragonfly, but he took the dragon prince with him. And later, he does fully make the dragons his choice, which leads to his death.

On the other hand, Jenny’s Duncan was a dragon who chose to be a dragonfly, but he never quite gave up his connection to his fire heritage, which also led to his death. However, I don’t think that Duncan’s Prince of Dragonflies’ moniker is just about him choosing Jenny over the dragon crown. And this is where my second theory of this chapter comes in.

I think it’s quite possible that George gave Duncan that moniker to indicate that he was a greenseer, or at least had the untapped potential. It could be why he sought out the Ghost of High Heart, which I think is what happened and how he met Jenny.

The GOHH is a woods witch and with her diminutive stature and association with High Heart, a location that was sacred to the COTF, and is centered around a major weirwood grove, she is likely either a Child of the Forest, or a human/COTF hybrid. George has not yet answered that question, but with her green dream visions, he clearly wants her associated with the COTF.

Thus, it makes sense for a dragon prince with sea dragon/greenseer abilities to be associated with the COTF for training as was the case with Bloodraven. Now, before anyone says that there is no way that Duncan could have been a greenseer, I would say to remember Bloodraven and their family heritage.

Duncan’s mother was Black Betha Blackwood while Bloodraven’s was Melissa Blackwood. The greenseer gene is strong within the Blackwoods. It’s why they war with the Starks in ancient times and were chased out of the North. It is from his Blackwood mother that Bloodraven inherited the greenseer gene, and so Duncan having the gene as well is a very real possibility.

Was Jenny also a greenseer? This can’t be ruled out considering the hints that she might have been related to the GOHH…possibly even a daughter or granddaughter. We don’t get much of a description of Jenny except that she wore flowers in her hair, which seems to be George wanting the reader to associate her with being a forest nymph.

She’s described as being strange and as a witch. Her connection to the GOHH would seem to suggest that she might have been a woods witch as well. She’s also closely associated with Oldstones, which is a full anagram for lodestone. A lodestone is a magnetic stone and in fantasy literature, it often has magical properties. So, Jenny could have been magical as well.

However, in this instance, I think that Duncan might have been the one with the ability and his Prince of Dragonflies moniker might indicate that he was in training, just as Bran, “Prince of the Green” is being trained by Bloodraven. Jenny might have been the lodestone that brought him to his mentor, the GOHH. But as I said, I would not be shocked if she also had magical abilities because it would fit thematically.

And those flowers she wore in her head, I think that there were probably wild white roses that she found on the grave of her ancestors.

Yet in the center of what once would have been the castle's yard, a great carved sepulcher still rested, half hidden in waist-high brown grass amongst a stand of ash. The lid of the sepulcher had been carved into a likeness of the man whose bones lay beneath, but the rain and the wind had done their work. The king had worn a beard, they could see, but otherwise his face was smooth and featureless, with only vague suggestions of a mouth, a nose, eyes, and the crown about the temples. His hands folded over the shaft of a stone warhammer that lay upon his chest. Once the warhammer would have been carved with runes that told its name and history, but all that the centuries had worn away. The stone itself was cracked and crumbling at the corners, discolored here and there by spreading white splotches of lichen, while wild roses crept up over the king's feet almost to his chest. — A Storm of Swords - Catelyn V

As we find out in this Sansa chapter from AFFC, the tale of Jenny and her Prince might be very similar to that of Florian and Jonquil in its sadness.

If the Eyrie had been made like other castles, only rats and gaolers would have heard the dead man singing. Dungeon walls were thick enough to swallow songs and screams alike. But the sky cells had a wall of empty air, so every chord the dead man played flew free to echo off the stony shoulders of the Giant's Lance. And the songs he chose . . . He sang of the Dance of the Dragons, of fair Jonquil and her fool, of Jenny of Oldstones and the Prince of Dragonflies. He sang of betrayals, and murders most foul, of hanged men and bloody vengeance. He sang of grief and sadness. — A Feast for Crows - Sansa I

This passage which references both Florian and Jonquil, and Jenny and her Prince of Dragonflies also mentions the Dance of the Dragons. We know that while Jenny’s story involved dragons, it did not involve a Dance of Dragons, at least not of the fiery type. And it did involve betrayal.

We also discover in The Hedge Knight, that all the adjectives Sansa uses to describe the songs sung by Marilion could also be used to describe the legend of Florian and Jonquil. This includes betrayals; murder most foul; and a Dance of Dragons between two brothers with a woman at the center of the conflict.

I think that the latest Dance with Dragons will play out between Jon and Dany and Sansa will have a major role in this arc, because as I’ve been preaching throughout this essay series, she and Jon are the Florian and Jonquil of this iteration of the story.

However, as I noted when discussing the passage from The Hedge Knight above, not recognized by many is that there is also a dance between the sea dragon of the dragonfly variety and the fire dragon at play in the story. It’s been there since the fire dragon killed the sea dragon millennium ago to gain access to the weirwoods, and it’s a dance that continues through all the timelines iterations. And with that, let’s wind down this chapter.

In Part 2 of The Bear and the Maiden Fair, and in this brief snippet, I discussed why Sansa’s Tully heritage and other textural symbolism positions her as a sea dragon waiting to be awaken. Left alone, weirwoods don’t rot. They petrified and are turned to stone. The same can be said of weirwood goddesses. They may sleep and hibernate, but goddesses sometimes awaken. Weirwood goddesses or sea dragons sometimes awaken from stone, or better yet, awaken from under the name of Stone.

Don’t you ever wonder why George gave her a false moniker and a hidden princess storyline where she needs to awaken to reclaim her identity. It’s interesting when there is a major prophecy in the text about waking dragons from stone, and such prophecies usually have multiple and layered meanings…especially if as I’ve proposed, Sansa is the Sea Dragon Behind the Glass, as in a sleeping greenseer.

In his dream, Bran falls from the Winterfell eyrie and Bloodraven tells him to fly or die, meaning awaken to his full potential or die in the attempt as the was the case of many other dreamers who attempted to cross the weirwood bridge to the green sea. It’s not specifically stated in the dream that Bran is falling from the eyrie, but it’s implied with his habit of climbing to the top to feed the crows as he does to the one in his dream, as well as in his memory of Jaime pushing him. Then later in A Storm of Swords, George puts Sansa at the top of the Eyrie in the Vale and we get this scene.

So lovely. The snow-clad summit of the Giant's Lance loomed above her, an immensity of stone and ice that dwarfed the castle perched upon its shoulder. Icicles twenty feet long draped the lip of the precipice where Alyssa's Tears fell in summer. A falcon soared above the frozen waterfall, blue wings spread wide against the morning sky. Would that I had wings as well. A Feast for Crows, Alayne I

You do have wings Sansa, and you will fly…possibly both symbolically and literally.

To the original questioner, I hope this very long essay answers your question of why dragonflies are important in the story and what it implies about Sansa’s arc. The length was necessary because I really had to go into the ironborn Grey King myth to show the symbolic importance of sea dragons in the story and why dragonflies should be considered the same.

With that, we come to the end of Chapter 8. The next chapter is going to be a fun one, and I’ve been looking forward to writing it for almost 6 years. In fact, I first started writing it about 6 years ago…even before the Florian and Jonquil series. It was only after I started the latter series that I realized the two were connected.

For this reason, I tabled the essay, until I got to the right part of the Florian and Jonquil series to introduce the theory. I didn’t expect to be doing it now, but the query about dragonflies which led to a discussion of the Grey King and other topic provides a perfect segue. I can’t tell you the name of the chapter as that would be a big spoiler. I will say that many will find it surprising, but it’s been one of George's shinny apples sitting out there in plain sight all along.

And so I leave you with this quote from Aeron Greyjoy.

"The Storm God in his wrath plucked Balon from his castle and cast him down, and now he feasts beneath the waves in the Drowned God's watery halls." He raised his hands. "Balon is dead! The king is dead! Yet a king will come again! For what is dead may never die, but rises again, harder and stronger! A king will rise!" —A Feast for Crows, The Prophet

Yes. What is dead does rise harder and stronger, and a king shall indeed rise. Actually, two shall rise but only one will do so by the "kiss of life," and it's not Euron. Oh, and yes, I will be discussing the infamous unkiss.

#sansa stark #jon snow #asoiaf #asoiaf meta #my meta #house stark #sansa stark meta #florian and jonquil #jenny of oldstones #prince of dragonflies #duncan targaryen

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atpsnty · 9 months

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┊𝐢'𝐦 𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝

miguel o’hara ; spider-man: across the spider-verse

pairing: miguel x gn!reader (you do not show up though)

warnings: (vague) breakup emotions, angst

request: n/a

summary: inspired by ‘i’m tired’ - labrinth & zendaya

a/n: kind of worded like a poem (sorry I love writing poetry and can’t stop)

character credit: spider-verse movie series

w/c: 456

'Hey Lord, You Know I'm Tired.'

It is like clockwork really – the way Miguel goes about the day.

Home: The place for basic necessities that couldn’t be completed at headquarters. The place where he was supposed to yearn to go to at the end of each day, yet the place where he rarely ends up. It is less of a “home” and more of an unnecessary residence, for your presence was fading faster than he cared to acknowledge and to keep outside the walls was to keep you in.

Work: The Arachno-Humanoid Poly Multiverse, he would call it by no other name because that is exactly what it is. A multiverse. Multiple realities converging and connecting through the means of spider-people. If he had a home, and he uses if very wisely, he would consider headquarters the living room that he never occupies; always trapped in his own hideaway for means of work, “play” does not exist in his vocabulary – not anymore at least. The enjoyment of downtime had withered away once you had left, leaving the quiet that relaxation had brought to accept the racket of his misfortune.

Missions: When Miguel was not in one of the two listed places, he was surely on a hunt of his own. He does this a lot now, taking on assignments himself. Though he has timelines to monitor and canon events to oversee, he finds that hands-on pursuits block out the noise more thoroughly than any desk duty. He takes every hit and assault, willingly putting himself in harmful positions in hopes that the ringing in his ears will drown out the distant echo of your laugh.

He can no longer carry weight of his own memories.

So this cycle repeats. In various orders and never through allocated time frames, but using these three places, using these three environments Miguel allows his days to choke on the air that lacks of your scent in hopes that the sounds of his own suffering will drown him.

‘It is all I got, Is this Enough?’

He likes to remind himself that he tried his best, that he held on to the breaking strings of your relationship for as long as he could.

But did he really?

Surely if he did he wouldn’t be wishing for you gone from his mind while simultaneously wishing for his memories to draw fresh.

He does not wish for you back.

He does not wish to witness you breaking again, because that is exactly what would happen. He would never be able to give you what you deserve – what you desire most and he does not wish to watch you walk away again.

He wouldn't be able to erase the memory once more.

short little drabble to get me back into writing,, also ahhhh first spiderverse ff after being obsessed for MONTHS (my requests are open!)

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sincerely-sofie · 7 days

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All of your art and ideas are incredible to read and look at, but I can't help but gravitate immediately to thoughts related to the Dugtrio Day AU and how much worse it could be to have Pinna experiencing it instead.

The weird, cruel joke that suddenly, after everything she's done with Echo, Pinna wakes up as if it were the day she met Echo. What's worse than having something explained to you when you already know it, so much.

What if you had to be the one to explain it? Sure, maybe you could shorten or cut out irrelevant parts, but what if doing so leads to even more lost potential time. Time that you do desperately don't want to be losing. Seeing things that you grew up around becoming more inescapably deterministic. Having to face the concept of understanding your own life so much that you can never look at it the same way even if you escaped the cycle of it. Seeing the effects of the loop on your friends in ways that only you and someone you once thought had your back.

Eventually you hit a point where explaining while not doing something would be completely out of the question. Realizing that someone that you cared for so much, while caring for you just as much, being the only majorly changing variable both in the best and worst ways. Others starting to get hints of memories from the potential future but never enough to deviate in a way that matters, let alone help.

The potential expression of betrayal by your own best friend and possibly the guild when you decide to do something wildly different. Trying to not engage in certain fights since you have almost the same goal, despite no one else being aware. Would you even be able to hide your feelings, having to repeat everything again and again when others' sacrifices and efforts keep going to waste in the end, especially when others start to interfere to make it "interesting" and "different"? Not just hollow, but crushing watching the efforts of your friend and teammate repeatedly wasted, treated as meer entertainment for Mythicals and Legends. Realizing that you have to guide someone so unaware of what's truly happening, someone that matters so much to you at this point, through this hollow performance as if you aren't looking for a solution with the only windows of time you aren't near the only thing that makes you feel as close to sane as possible.

Sincerely, both a fan, and someone with way too many thoughts about things like this.

Thank you so much for your kind words! I’m reading this with my head in my hands. Oh my word.

A fun factoid: Pinna is aware of the loop eventually. At least to an extent. It’s many loops in before her memories from past loops start to carry over, but eventually she regains echoes of her memories up to the first iteration of the timeline before it ever looped. And once everything dawns on her fully, she's terrified of the change that's taken place in her best friend. Echo is bitter and angry, and above all else scared, and she's been almost entirely alone while trying to figure out how to break out of this nightmarish scenario.

Pinna starts making her own efforts to save Echo from the loop--- and she never really stops to consider that she'd be saving herself as well, because Echo is the only thing that matters to her at that point. Unfortunately, they can't see eye-to-eye on a way to break the loop, and Echo is constantly restarting the loop by defeating Dialga in an effort to perform the actions that led to the loop "correctly". This means Pinna's efforts to research a resolution to the loop are often sabotaged by Echo's own efforts. She's frustrated by this, but it just renews her conviction with every loop.

She's going to save Echo, even if it's the last thing she does. And at the rate that the loops are going, chipping away at her very being, it very well might be.

#dugtrio day au #pmd ocs #pmd oc #pokemon mystery dungeon #pokémon mystery dungeon #pmd explorers #pmd sky #pmd eos #pmd2 #pmd #sofie answers asks

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misteria247 · 1 year

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More insanity from moi? More likely than you think lads. Anyways here's a little bit of a silly writing thingy. As usual the 12 boys go by their full names, the Rise boys go by their nicknames. And as before, vague mentions of other aus since I'm not too comfortable going into full details about them. As well as a pinch of angst. Anyways enjoy I guess-

Basketball.

If Donatello was told that the competition he and his brothers were entered in would have a basketball segment, he wouldn't have believed it. Yet here he was, sitting on the bleachers, watching the different versions of turtles compete. Somewhere close by in the corner of the large interdimensional gymnasium, Donatello's brothers and their counterparts were playing with their own basketball. Content to just stick to their corner. Donatello watched as Raphael got the ball from Michelangelo, the sounds of his little brother's dramatic gasps and whines of betrayal echoing slightly. Donnie was blocking Leo's attempts to help his partner Michelangelo, refusing to let the older twin pass. Leonardo was distracting Raph from also helping Michelangelo. The oldest Hamato moving surprisingly quick for someone who had a busted knee.

Sitting next to Donatello was Mikey. The box turtle was cheering for the others, enjoying the game between them. As Mikey's chipper tone crowed from next to him, Donatello began to take notice of the other turtles further in the gym. There was an adult Leonardo that was currently hanging away from the others, and a ghost version of himself that was sticking close to his group. There was what looked like a mutant version of Chompy, and a feral Leo that was watching the groups in a focused way. A small family of six was playing their own game, the sounds of their laughter and excited shouting echoing throughout the gym.

It was strange somewhat to Donatello. Seeing so many different turtles, so many different variations of him and his brothers all in one place. He should have been used to this kind of thing, given that he had meet two variations of himself within his lifetime. Yet it still seemed to blow his mind a bit, just how vast and complex the world was. That tiny moments or choices could change things in such a way that they were vastly different from one another. It was fascinating to the purple genius, to witness so many things that he at one time would have killed for to be in his current position. As he stared at all the turtles and their rat dads and human companions, he was startled by the sudden touch of a hand on his shoulder. Donatello nearly broke his neck with how fast he turned it, reddish brown eyes meeting curious light brown ones. Mikey was watching him, a small head tilt going on making him look like an adorable little frog of sorts.

"I've been trying to get your attention for a bit now, but I can see that your attention is preoccupied."

The fourteen year old teen commented, a small smile on his face. The eighteen year old teen in turn grew flustered, his face going a bit red.

"Ah you were?? Oh geez I'm sorry Mikey I just got lost a bit in my head is all. Did you need something?"

The older turtle asked stumbling slightly in his flustered state.

"I was just asking what you thought about all the different versions of us so far. They all seem pretty friendly!"

The younger turtle repeated what he had said before earning a thoughtful hum from Donatello.

"Honestly I find it all incredibly fascinating. This whole situation is one in a million, and we somehow managed to get to witness it. Donnie had mentioned that there was many different universes, dimensions and timelines but I didn't think it'd be this big."

The genius rambled, getting more expressive as he talked about everything that had caught his eye. The chipper teen listened to every word, the game he'd been currently watching somewhat forgotten as he listened to his fellow gap toothed friend talk. It was moments like these that Mikey personally enjoyed, seeing the ones he cared about talking about their passions. The way Donatello spoke reminded him a lot of Donnie, who when on a topic could go on for hours if allowed to. The duo were so in to their conversation that they both nearly jumped when Raph's voice called out to them from the ground.

"Dee, Michael! Lee and Donald are gonna take a break, so you two can come down and play now!"

The large snapper called out, his dark green eyes bright from the earlier fun. Leonardo with the help of Donnie had already sat down on the bleachers, the oldest turtle rubbing at his knee a bit while the younger one cracked his shoulders a bit. Donatello and Mikey quickly got up and went to join the others, and then the new game began. The shouts and cheers of the small group reaching the other groups who just side eyed them in amusement while some watched with slight pain at seeing the full set of eight together. All in all the gymnasium continued on with its festivities, the atmosphere bright and warm all around.

*Aka ma can you believe that a tmnt poll broke my writer's block what kind of witchcraft????? Anyways I tried to keep the aus mentioned here somewhat vague, yet y'all can probably guess as to who they are lol. I've been seeing the whole basketball thing going on and lowkey kinda wanted to join in but eh I'm also really awkward and shy. So I've just been kinda conflicted on how I could include my au into this cool concept without coming off as annoying and obnoxious shshshdhdhf. Ah anyways! I guess this is somewhat propaganda for Universal Collision, and if y'all are wondering what I'm going on about just go to @tmntaucompetition and you'll get what I'm babbling about lol. Anyways hope y'all enjoyed this and thanks for reading!!*

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mischiefandmedicine · 2 months

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Very Full - Chapter 7: Dream a Little Dream of Me

Summary: Melara confronts Loki at the end of time.

Word Count: 2,611 words.

Chapter Warnings: Fluff, implied smut (sorry, my kiddos were reading this story, so I couldn't write it full-blown smut how I wanted to...maybe in another story about these characters because I already have another one in the works).

Soundtrack Link

This Chapter's Music Inspiration:

Dream a Little Dream of Me performed by Anne Reburn

Very Full MASTERLIST

Previous Chapter

Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist!

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A/N: Writing this chapter made me cry. Every time I re-read it, I cry. It's a little shorter than the rest, but it gets the job done.

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The spectral form of Loki, flickering at the edges where the moonlight met the shadow, eyed Melara with a tumult of emotions playing across his face. It was a face torn between worlds, between the stark duties of a god and the raw, burgeoning need of a being who now found himself inexplicably bound to a mortal.

“I told you, I simply cannot take you to me,” he began, his voice a mixture of regret and iron-clad resolve. “There are consequences, Melara, repercussions that ripple through time and space, affecting not just us, but the very fabric of this…your reality.”

Melara’s gaze did not falter, her voice rising to match the intensity of her emotions. “And what of the consequences of your absence here? Of promises half-fulfilled, of a presence that is more shadow than substance?” Her words, sharp as shards of glass, aimed to pierce the veil of his indecision.

Loki’s form shimmered, a sign of the conflict raging within. He was the guardian of the timelines, the one who sat upon the throne at the end of all things, and yet here he was, grappling with the deeply personal, intimate plea of a woman who had managed to carve a niche in his ancient heart.

“The fabric of your world…of you…has become interwoven with every essence of my being,” he confessed, his usual flamboyance stripped away, leaving raw honesty. “Even across the great distance. To bring you to me is to expose you to the infinite complexities of existence, to the eternal burden I carry. It is to risk more than you can imagine.”

Melara’s response was laden with a heartbreaking mixture of hope and despair. “I have shared my darkest fears, my deepest pain with you. I have been vulnerable in ways I never thought possible. Can you not trust me to face your truth?”

Loki’s projection continued to kneel before her, a symbolic gesture that transcended the physical distance between them. “It is not a matter of trust,” he whispered, his voice carrying an echo of his duty to protect both the timelines and her. “It is a matter of safeguarding what I have come to cherish above all else. What you seek is redemption, Melara, and it is I who should be redeemed.”

The air was thick with the unspoken words and the gravity of the decision that lay before him. Loki’s eyes closed, a silent prayer to the fates that had led him to this juncture. When they opened, a new determination sparkled in his eyes, a clarity that had been absent moments before.

“I will bring you to me,” he said, the words falling like stones into the stillness of the room. “But you must be prepared for the journey, for the truth of what you will see. You must understand that who is before you is but one facet of a being forged in the crucible of time and chaos.”

Melara stood resolute in her demand. “Take me to him,” she repeated simply.

And with those words, the room around them began to shift, the walls of reality thinning as Loki extended his hand towards her, covering her eyes as a gust of air blew at her tousled hair. The veil between their worlds was lifting, and together they stepped forward into the maelstrom of destiny, their fates forever entwined.

Melara’s eyes fluttered open at the cessation of the breeze, the air still, yet charged around her. The chill of the air made her shiver in her thin nightgown, and she instinctively wrapped her arms around herself for warmth. Her gaze fell upon her feet, bare against the cold marble that seemed to stretch endlessly before her, leading upwards in the dark. The staircase before her was majestic, its surface a dance of gold and onyx-colored stone, each step seemingly alive with a light that pulsed from the cracks, veins of power leading towards an ethereal vortex swirling with hues of green and purple.

Loki’s projection, a guide at the threshold of worlds, nodded towards the ascent. “Up you go,” was all he said, his voice a whisper in the vastness.

With a breath that felt like the first, Melara began her climb, each step resonating with the echo of destinies being woven and unwoven in the distance. The closer she came to the apex, the more the timelines, those ribbons of fate, sang with the voices of countless lives lived and yet to be lived.

There, at the summit, sat Loki, his form more substantial than any projection could encapsulate, immersed in the silent orchestration of time itself. His eyes, pools of eternity, were fixed on the dance of green strands that flowed through his fingers like water. He was the architect of destinies, the custodian of time’s flow, and she recognized this as the vision she’d had of him night after night in her dreams since the day they had met. The sight of Melara seemed to puncture the very fabric of his being, a single tear betraying the stoicism etched into his features.

In one swift motion that held the grace of the ages, he drew the timelines around him, crafting them into a cloak that shimmered with the essence of all realities, the throne beneath him as much a part of him as the breath of the cosmos. As Melara approached, each step reverent and bold, she reached out to touch the tear, the warmth of his skin a stark contrast to the cold she had felt from the lips of his projection just moments before.

Her hands, tender and hesitant, traced the contours of a face marked by the passage of eons, the lines telling stories of laughter, of sorrow, of battles fought in the shadows and light. He responded to her touch, a being of power yielding to the simple act of a physical connection, the need to be seen, to be felt.

Seated in the cradle of his existence, she leaned in, her lips finding his in a kiss that was a confluence of the past, present, and future – a merging of mortal and divine. The kiss deepened, and Loki’s embrace enfolded her, the timelines now a radiant backdrop to the union of two souls drawn together across the impossible expanse of reality. His fingers explored the reality of her, a contrast to the timelines that he had only manipulated but never felt as he felt her now.

In their embrace, the universe seemed to pause, the timelines glowing ever brighter, a testament to the power of a moment that defied the very laws of nature. It was a passion born of the convergence of two paths, a mortal and a god, in the heart of infinite realities and realms as Loki pulled Melara to rest in his lap, not releasing her lips until she pulled away gasping for air.

Melara’s eyes fluttered open in the stillness that followed their kiss, locking with Loki’s. The chaotic dance of the timelines around them seemed to slow as if giving them a rare moment of tranquility amidst the usual tumult of the multiverse. She gazed into the eyes of the god who had woven himself into her life, her expression a blend of awe and affection, the enormity of the moment not lost on her.

With a weak but heartfelt smile, she whispered, “Hello,” her voice barely rising above the whispers of time that threaded through the space around them. It was a greeting, yes, but also an acknowledgment of the new depth to their relationship, a single word that spoke volumes of acceptance and understanding.

Loki, taken aback by the simplicity and depth of her greeting, returned her smile with a warmth that had nothing to do with the power he wielded. “Hello,” he echoed, the word a promise and an offering, a vow to honor the trust she placed in him at this confluence of their lives.

Melara’s voice trembled as she began to speak, but Loki gently placed a finger upon her lips, silencing the fight within her. His eyes, a mirror to the cosmos, gazed into hers with a silent intensity. “Melara,” he whispered, the timbre of his voice quivering with the truth of his heart, “across the distances, you have managed to bewitch me, mind, body, and soul. From the very first note that escaped those lips, I have loved you.” There was a sacred silence that fell between them, as if the universe paused to concede to the depth of his confession.

The timelines cast their emerald glow on Melara and Loki. Melara, ever blunt and unmoved by Loki’s grandeur, met his gaze with a mixture of warmth and reprimand. “That’s quite the speech, but you’re not off the hook yet,” she teased, her tone light yet firm. “You’ve got a lot of making up to do, Loki. But…I suppose being loved by a god isn’t the worst fate in the cosmos,” she admitted, a playful nod to his confession.

Loki’s gaze softened as warmth blossomed on Melara’s skin, her words igniting a flush that spread across her cheeks. Gently, he cradled her face in his hand, savoring the genuine touch, the real connection that had eluded him until this moment – a sharp contrast to the hollow interactions of his projection that she had rejected so fervently just before her journey to his throne.

In the stillness of their profound embrace, Melara’s breath whispered against the fabric of reality, her voice a tender caress in the vast silence of the throne room. She drew near, her lips a breath away from Loki’s ear, the softness and warmth of her skin as it brushed against his elicited a long melodious sigh from his lips as she began to sing the words, “Stars shining up above you.” She smiled, leaning her head against his.

“Night breezes seem to whisper,” pausing, she carefully whispered the words “I love you.”

Loki’s entire essence melted as she continued, enveloping him in the quiet melody she had chosen, an Earth song of dreams and whispered love.

Birds singing in the sycamore trees, Dream a little dream of me.

A single tear fell from her eye as she pulled back to drink in the sight and scent of Loki. His skin was soft and his smell was a delicious resinous fragrance, reminiscent of the deep, verdant forests surrounding her hometown. The lyrics were clear in her intent, a gentle declaration meant for him alone. Her voice was subdued compared to the belted words she had crooned on the night they had first met. This essence of her voice floated with the subtle vibration that resonated down to the core of his corporeal being. Loki, the god of stories, found himself enveloped in a narrative of intimate simplicity, a single, shared moment that eclipsed the grandeur of his dominion over time and space.

Say ‘night-y night’ and kiss me.

She paused to kiss Loki’s forehead gently.

Just hold me tight and tell me you’ll miss me.

Another pause to kiss each of his eyelids sweetly.

While I’m alone and blue as can be, Dream a little dream of me.

And yet another pause to choke back the tears from falling. Loki wiped them, mesmerized as she continued with a smile, the song soaring as she rocked the pair slowly, arms tightening around Loki’s shoulders as they sat entwined on the throne.

Stars fading but I linger on, dear, Still craving your kiss. I’m longing to linger ‘til dawn, dear, Just saying this…

Melara bit her lip, her voice cracking as she let a bittersweet giggle float from her lips before continuing.

Sweet dreams ‘til sunbeams find you, Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you, But in your dreams, whatever they be… Dream a little dream of me.

On the throne seated at the end of time, Loki and Melara lingered as the last notes of her song hovered in the air, threatening to be set adrift by the whirling of the timeline cloak draped down Loki’s back. He cradled Melara, memorizing her every curve, the drape of her hair as it framed her face, how her eyes glowed, reflecting the light of the timelines burning brighter from the strength that her presence gave to Loki’s magic.

Melara leaned in to kiss Loki’s lips carefully, pulling back to whisper against them, “Do you hear that Loki?”

“What’s that?” he asked her curiously.

A twinkle of mischief gleamed in her eyes as a smile pulled at her lips as they ghosted Loki’s. “I believe that’s the sound of the great god of stories brought to his knees by a mere mortal’s song. The tales of the wild woman who stole his heart will be told across the multiverse.”

Loki, the architect of fates and weaver of time’s threads, could not help but laugh heartily – a genuine, heartfelt sound that eased the tension of the moment between them. Their argument faded to a distant memory as Melara’s laughter joined his, a duet that filled the chamber with a lightness that belied the gravity of their surroundings. For just that moment, they were not mortal and god caught in the machinations of destiny, but two souls sharing a connection that transcended the bounds of their respective existences.

It was unspoken between them that this was likely the only time they would ever share the same space, at least without an avatar getting between them. Neither of them chose to dwell on that fact. Instead, they shared this bittersweet joke between them, a nod to the intimacy that had grown between them over the few weeks when Loki stood watch over her recovery.

As the laughter and smiles faded, they just gazed into each other’s eyes, protecting the other from a reality that would soon set in. But first, they would make this truly a moment to savor for the rest of their respective lives, lips meeting again, this time passionately.

***

“Nope!” Saoirse stood up, raising her hands in protest. “No, no, no, no, no, no. Nope! Uh uh. You are NOT going to tell me about how you banged my mother on that fucking…I mean…that throne up there!”

Loki nearly fell out of his oversized velvet green armchair in laughter as he watched his daughter nearly to the edge of vomiting as she thought of him and Melara and their encounter at the end of time. “I don’t have to tell you anything, daughter. Your mere existence is the result of it.”

“Loki!” Saoirse shouted, conjuring a rock to hurl in her father’s direction, him catching it just as swiftly as it was tossed. “Just stop! You were supposed to be telling me about her performance! Not…not this.”

His laughter dwindled into the softness of the expansive room, a gentle reminder of where he had left off in the story. He cleared his throat, the velvet timbre of his voice taking on a reverent tone. “Very well,” he cooed. “But I assure you it would not be nearly as interes-…”

Picking up the blade beside her, Saoirse pointed the tip directly at Loki, a threatening glare darkening her eyes with purple hues shimmering. “I assure you that the story I asked for would be much more [dry heave] fascinating.”

“Okay, okay. Just put the blade down. It pains me to see you dry heave while wielding such a magnificent weapon,” he said in jest, waving at the dagger pointed at him. “Know where you came from and all that nonsense, right? But where were we?”

Saoirse rolled her eyes angrily, lowering the dagger while mumbling under her breath, “God of fucking mischief!”

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Tags: @mischief2sarawr

#loki masterlist #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki imagine #loki laufeyson fanfic #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki marvel #loki #loki series #loki x reader

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sunonyoreface · 1 year

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He Knows - Simon “Ghost” Riley Pt. 16

An: Happy Valentines Day! Take some time to love yourself and cherish your beautiful soul :)

Hi there, this is a series about Simon Riley from COD. This series does not follow any of the established plots or timelines from the games. While I use the names of some characters, they are different from the ones in COD.

Summary: You’re held captive by 141 for reasons unknown.

Word count: 4100

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

The thud of his helmet against the empty wooden dresser echoes across the otherwise silent room. My eyes snap open. The muscles in my back tense. Who is in my room?

My head slowly turns to take in the shadowy figure just feet away. It’s too dark to see almost anything. The only source of light is what creeps under the door from the hall. But I know he’s here. I can sense his movements as he turns around to face me. I hold my breath as I feel my heart start to race.

The ominous soldier towers over my bed. His movements are almost inaudible. When I squint, I can just make out the outline of the bulletproof vest strapped to his chest. As he gazes down a deep sigh escapes his chest. The tension in my muscles eases. Not a stranger after all.

I was scared Ghost was going to keep giving me the silent treatment. For once, I’m happy to be wrong.

“What’re you doing here?” my voice is barely audible as I push myself into a sitting position. Somewhere in the haze, part of me wonders if he’s real. Or if this is all some wishful dream. If so, speaking too loud would be a mistake. Maybe even speaking at all.

A gloved hand brushes down the side of my face as his feet inch closer to the bedframe. I so badly want to lean into his touch, to be comforted by him, to pretend everything is going to be alright. But just as I feel myself give way, another sigh escapes his chest. My ears pick up on his ragged breathing. The atmosphere starts to shift. There’s something off about him.

Just as I shift away from his touch, the same hand shoots out and roughly grabs my hair, yanking me down so my neck is exposed. His other hand quickly presses against my mouth as a painful cry escapes through my lips. Strong arms pull me toward the edge of the bed.

“I don’t think you were listening to me earlier,” the mask brushes against my skin as his threatening voice hisses in my ear. My blood runs cold. Not Ghost. Not Ghost. This man is not a Ghost. Who the fuck is in my room?

My entire body freezes. Any fight or flight instinct becomes completely scrambled and my mind feels like a broken record. I am at every disadvantage.

The man tightly gripping my skin is one of the best soldiers in the world. Who is trained in hand-to-hand combat. Who outweighs me by over a hundred pounds. Who is stronger than me. Faster than me. And already has his hands woven into my hair, exposing the most vulnerable part of my body.

Even if I somehow managed a lucky knee to his groin, the only exit is locked and I don’t have a key card. Only authorized personnel have access to my room. Whoever this man is, shouldn’t even be able to get in. But here he is.

And here I am: completely at his mercy.

“I’m going to move my hand. If you scream, I’ll cut your throat,” he threatens. Two sets of wild eyes meet. His pupils are completely dilated and I find myself staring into terrifying black pits. Rage and excitement fight for dominance. “Understood?”

I attempt a small nod. What I do understand is that part of him wants me to try and get away. His fingers twitch against my scalp. He wants an excuse to hurt me. The hand around my mouth slips off as he reaches for something strapped to his chest. The silver hunting knife glints in the dark.

“What do you want?” I whisper.

“I just told you,” there’s a tightness to his voice, as though he’s restraining the rage that threatens to tear through the surface of his composed demeanour. “I won’t be repeating myself, so you better pay attention, little bird,” the name perks my ears. Little Bird. The other Ultranationalist, the prisoner, also called me by that name.

“I’m listening,” I feel the sharp blade of the knife shift around my throat as I force a dry swallow. The start of a panic attack pricks at the tips of my fingers.

“Good. Your father is hurt by your actions. He wants to know why you betrayed him-”

“I didn’t-” the urgency in my voice is quickly cut off.

“Don’t interrupt me you fucking snitch,” he snarls as the knife presses harder against my throat and his hand twists against my scalp, sending shooting tendrils of pain through my head. “You did. And now I have to risk being compromised to set everything right. So here’s what you’re going to do: You are going to help Price set a trap for your father. He expects it. When I stop by you will explain the details. All you have to do is tell the fucking truth,” the knife presses harder against my throat as he says this. “A lot is riding on this. Your father can only take so many chances trying to help you before the organization moves on.”

“Okay,” at this point I don’t know if the word even makes it past my lips.

“If you tell Soap – if you tell anyone, our contacts in America who are watching your friends and coworkers will take five of them. We’ve been tracking them with your father’s help. He wants you to know how serious this is. Their lives are at stake. Your life is at stake, little bird,” A sharp sensation tugs at the sensitive skin under the blade and I feel the first drop of hot blood roll down my neck and land between my collarbones. “If you think I’m the only one you have to worry about, you are even more stupid than I thought. We are everywhere and we are strong. And if you think you can keep hiding behind your father, you are wrong. The organization is the most important thing to him. Don’t be naive.”

Deep, visceral fear pulses through my veins. The hairs on the back of my neck rise as my breathing runs out of control. The air isn’t getting to my lungs. My chest burns as panic invades my lungs. I’m hyperventilating. Fuck. I can’t breathe. Why can’t I breathe?

“You had so much potential,” his tone changes as the tip of the knife traces down my throat, threatening to break more skin. It follows the path of the drop of blood, coasting past my collarbones, and starting down my sternum. A gross sensation creeps its way up the back of my neck where his hand is tangled in my hair. The knife lightly presses above my undershirt as he approaches my breasts, but just when I fear the gloved hand will go further, I’m released from his vengeful hands and shoved back onto the mattress.

His weight quickly shifts off the bed and then the thud of his boots retreats further into the room. I barely make out the shadow grabbing his helmet off the dresser. Then as a stream of light filters through a crack in the door upon his exit, I can just make out the white numbers sewn to the patch on his shoulder: 141.

I dream of the echo of his shoes against the cold cement floor. My ears ring as the sound grows louder and louder.

“Y/n…Y/n?” my head throbs as the thuds turn into knocks against the door. Burning light floods the room as Soap flicks on the light switch. I recoil from the terrible brightness. “You okay? Ya look like shite.”

“Thanks,” the bitterness in my voice is palatable. Sour and expired. Like a thundering hangover.

“You didn’t eat,” I hear the disappointment in his voice as he stares at the plate on the dresser.

“Wasn’t hungry,” Soap steps closer to the bed, concerned eyes raking across my form, completely hidden by the blankets. I tuck my chin into the softness, hiding from his gaze. Soap’ll think I’m just upset about my father, but he’s the least of my concerns. He can’t know about last night. “Can you leave so I can get dressed?”

“Five minutes,” he reluctantly agrees. “Price is expecting us.”

As soon as he’s gone, I rush to the sink mirror. Red is smeared across the base of my neck from the small cut. It was real. He is real. And out there, waiting for me to slip up.

Something tells me the slip of his knife wasn’t intentional. If he’s as smart as he claims to be, then he wouldn’t have left any marks. Yet here it is, Just above the neckline of where my shirt sits. I wipe away the dried blood with damp toilet paper then pull my shirt back over my shoulders so it sits ever so slightly higher on my neck. Then I tuck the bottom hem into the band of my pants to hold it there. If I brush my hair over my shoulders it won’t be as noticeable.

“Can we stop for coffee?” Soap nods, unusually quiet. The dining hall is busy as they finish up breakfast. He stops to talk to Konig as I head for the drink stand. I need something to clear my head. This is as close as I’ll get. I keep an eye on them as I fill the Styrofoam cup and then immediately down the first cup. The liquid burns my tongue and leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I drink half the second cup before refilling it and joining Soap. I just need to get through this morning and then I’ll have time to think. Just get through this meeting.

“You’re gonna get the shakes,” he says eyeing the half-empty cup outside of Price’s office.

“I’ll be fine,” my trembling hands betray me though. But that’s not from the coffee. I’ve always handled my caffeine well and this stuff is far from strong.

Inside I claim the same plastic chair as Yesterday. Price is quiet as he types on the laptop and Ghost is nowhere to be found.

“Just a moment, sir,” Soap slips out of the room leaving just the two of us. My eyes flicker from the coffee to Captain Price seated behind the desk. His light eyes intently scan the screen as his distinct hat sits in the same place it always is. At first, I thought it was a fishing hat until I heard someone call it a boonie. Like Ghost and his mask, I’ve yet to see Price without it.

“You thought about our conversation?” he lifts his head to meet my eyes. The laptop lid is slowly closed and I feel my grip tighten around the warm cup.

“I did,” I fight to maintain a steady voice. He thoughtfully glances over my face. Price’s brows furrow as he presses his lips together. I know I look like a mess. My eyes are hollow and my bags stain the skin underneath. I haven’t seen proper sunlight in weeks and the life feels like it’s draining from my skin. Parts of my bottom lip have split from biting at the skin. I hardly look like myself. I also know he doesn’t really care. I’m hardly the first person here who can’t get a full night’s rest. All that matters is that I’m in good enough shape to help them out.

The door creaks open as Ghost quietly slips in followed by Soap. They nod to Price and find their respective positions. This feels too formal. And also completely unformal, to the extent that none of this is actually happening. It won’t be recorded, that’s for sure. It will cease to exist. I will cease to exist.

“And did you reach a conclusion?” he asks, full attention turning back to me. The coffee swirls in my stomach. Nerves eat away at what little confidence I had walking in here. I tug the neckline of my shirt up, making sure the cut remains invisible.

“I’ll help,” I state simply before pressing the cup to my lips and swallowing the last of the liquid. I feel Ghost intently leering at me. I force myself to look anywhere but toward him. Price nods once. He expected as much.

“Right then, I’ll have a script drafted up so you have time to review before tomorrow. Someone will drop it off at your room,” he shifts in his chair, about to turn away. I nervously pull at my hair, brushing it around my neck and shoulders.

“A script? What do you mean by a script?” my brows furrow together in confusion as he pauses to consider his answer. Price never mentioned how I’m supposed to help. Not that I expected them to tell me anyway. I’m not exactly the first person on their briefing list. Or the last.

“Same time tomorrow morning, you are going to give your father a call. Let him know you’re alright. That we want a peaceful resolution and are willing to work with him for a fair exchange,” I pull at my shirt again when I notice how closely his eyes analyze every expression. But it’s not just him. Soap and Ghost quietly guard the door with their total attention glued to my every action. There’s an air of doubt surrounding my intentions. Now is the time I should tell them about last night. If I leave it any longer their suspicion will only grow. But I run the real risk of hurting people from back home. My friends. People I’ve spent years of my life with. People that I love and don’t deserve a single bad thing to happen to them. Guilt twists in my stomach. I don’t doubt for a second the Ultranationalists will kill them.

“I’m going to talk to him?” My heart skips a beat and the styrofoam begins to crumple under my hands. How the hell am I supposed to talk to him? After all his betrayal, after knowing the horrifying acts of terrorism he’s committed, I don’t think I can even look him in the eyes.

“Over the phone,” Price elaborates. “But you’ll have a script and be briefed beforehand.”

“What will I be asking him to do?” I force an uncomfortable swallow. The urge to feel for the cut along my neck tugs at my fingertips as I grasp the cup tighter.

“You’ll be briefed tomorrow,” Price is curt as he stands from the chair. There are a thousand other things on his list more important than my never-ending spitfire of questions. “Soap, you and I are in the bay with the demolitions team.”

“Yes sir,”

“Can I just ask one more question?” their eyes latch onto me again. This one has been nagging in the back of my mind for weeks now and there hasn’t been a good time to bring it up yet. “Where’s my mom? Is she okay?”

Price exchanges a knowing glance with Ghost. He answers with a quick nod and a small sigh. “Your mother’s fine. She’s at your home in New York, guarded by a team of Ultranationalists at all times.”

“Oh,” his answer is almost too simple. “Thanks,” I say more to myself than him. Is it even true? This wouldn’t be the first time they lied to me and definitely not the last. Maybe he thinks I’ll be more cooperative if I think she’s okay. Or maybe she really is okay. Maybe my father cares more about protecting her than me. We never had guards when I was growing up. I always thought that was something out of our tax bracket, but that’s not the case. I tug at the back of my shirt again, making sure it doesn’t slip down my neck.

“Ghost, escort y/n back to her quarters. She’s not to leave for the rest of the day, meals included. I’ll call later,” as he steps out from behind the desk, Soap is already holding the door open. There’s an air of urgency surrounding their plans. Can the rest of the task force detect it? Or is it under wraps like everything else?

I start to follow them out the exit, but just as I’m inches away a strong arm reaches out, blocking the frame as the door clicks back into place, automatically locking. My chest brushes against the black fabric of Ghost’s sleeve. As my eyes slowly follow up the length of his arm, I notice his attention already on me. I sense a storm brewing behind his mask. The air surrounding us is completely still: a warning of approaching danger. On a summer day, the sky would turn green as the flies swarm and cattle huddle in the corner of the pasture. I fight the urge to follow their instincts and retreat into the corner of the room, but they have strength in numbers and right now I’m all alone.

“I thought I was supposed to go to my room?” already I feel myself walking on eggshells around him.

“Right. What’s up?” Ghost crosses his arms. “Soap says you’ve been acting weird all day.”

I shrug my shoulders, trying to play off the building tension in the air. “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me,” his tone is cold as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. There’s a different type of tiredness attached to him today. From lack of sleep? Sure, maybe that’s part of it. But far from the whole reason.

“Nothing’s up,” I double down, taking a small step away from him. But I don’t get far. Ghost’s hand snakes out and latches onto my wrist. My fingers clench around the cracked coffee cup folded in my hands.

“Y/n, I’m not doing this today. Tell me why you’re acting like that,” Ghost is short with his words. Borderline impatient. I don’t focus on what he’s saying though. My mind drifts to his black balaclava and skull mask. What I would give to be able to hide like that right now. To stop him and Soap and Price from being able to psychoanalyze my every microexpression. To be able to retain my thoughts and emotions as my own. To disappear.

I tug at my collar with my other hand and as his eyes flicker to my hand I realize my mistake immediately. “See, you keep fixing your shirt,” he states.

“Let go,” I try pulling my wrist from his grasp to no avail. “Ghost,�� I tug again and this time the crushed cup tumbles from my hand as his grip tightens. I know well by now just how strong he is, but I think Ghost underestimates his own strength sometimes. As his hand twists around my wrist, a throbbing pain shoots up my arm. “Fuck. Can you stop doing that?” he pauses for a moment, considering my request. “Just don’t… don’t grab me like that.”

“And you’re shaking,” the irritation behind his eyes switches to concern.

“Just had too much coffee,” it’s already too hard to hold eye contact with him. My gaze stays on the remains of the coffee cup, but as his hand tightens yet again I can’t help but react to the discomfort.

“No. You need to tell me what’s going on.”

“Do I?” I bite back. “Is it not enough that I’m about to get my father put in jail? Killed? Do I need to tell you every damn thought that crosses my mind too?” I overplay my emotions on the off chance he’ll decide it’s not worth arguing about. But then in one swift motion, he tugs me closer using my arm.

I brace myself against his chest with my hands, putting what little space I can manage between us. It’s hard to think properly so close to him. His scent starts to twirl around in my thoughts and makes me want to trust him. His sharp words pull me back into reality.

“Do you really think I don’t know when someone is trying to hide something?” Ghost’s hand brushes up the length of my arm, landing on the side of my neck, urging me to make eye contact. “Don’t make me resort to other options,” his low voice threatens.

“Like what?” I jerk my head away from his grasp. “You gonna torture me? Pull a couple teeth? Break a few fingers?” my empty words fly through the room and hit him with at least some impact. Enough to distract him.

“Do you still think that of me?” I note his change in posture as he leans away from me. A pang of guilt hits my chest. Maybe that was the wrong thing to say. But it’s not like he’s respecting my boundaries either.

“You said so yourself, I don’t know how this ends,” I twist his words from the night at the cabin. Ghost’s dark eyes search for evidence against my claim.

“Y/n, I thought you trusted me?” his voice softens and mixes with confusion as his hands gently embrace my shoulders.

I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from taking my words back. I do. Fuck, I do. He’s seen me in my most vulnerable state, curled under his hands and gasping into his mouth. But I also trust the Ultranationalists to do everything in their power to hurt the people I love back home, if they haven’t already. I trust that we are in more danger here than anyone realizes. I trust that if I say something, people will die. I don’t miss the hurt in his eyes. But the urge to comfort him is overshadowed by the metastisizing fear growing taking over my entire being.

Fear courses through my veins and rattles my bones. It stains my every thought and desire. I’m terrified of more people getting hurt because of me. The weight of the possibility is crushing me.

But as Ghost’s intelligent eyes scan my frame once more and his arms pull me closer, his entire body freezes. I look up at him, his sudden silence concerning. And then I see where his eyes have landed: just above the neckline of my shirt. Ghost’s hands tense around my arms. His back stiffens and when he speaks I hear the thick restraint in his heavy voice.

“Who did this?” one hand leaves my arm, his fingers wrap around the hem of the fabric to pull it lower. His warm, bare knuckles brush above the swollen cut, a thin scab starts to form in a short, straight line. The air is so tense it feels hard to breathe. If I were to try and run now, it would feel like navigating through quicksand.

“I did,” I whisper. “It was an accide-”

“Damnit y/n.” my name reverberates through Ghost’s heaving chest. A strange mixture of feelings flood my mind: hurt, anger, guilt, pain, fear, sorrow, fear, yearning, fear, fear, fear. “Stop hiding from me,” behind the mask his brows furrow and his bottom lids pull tight, just trying to understand why the hell I’m acting like this. He thought we were past this.

“I can’t,” my shaky voice is just above a whisper.

“Did they threaten you?” he pushes. The familiar edge to his voice is back, but I’m not the intended victim of this blade.

“Please stop,” I beg.

“Was it the Ultranationalists?”

I start to shake my head, but the swell of terror in my eyes is all Ghost needs to confirm his suspicions.

The charged space between us starts to shrink despite neither of us moving. No one dares to make the next move. I see the thoughts racing behind his mask. I feel the vengeance buzzing under the pads of his fingers. Ghost is ready to unleash all Hell on whoever did this. It’s exactly what I was afraid of. If he acts now innocent people will die. I will die.

“Is there somewhere safe we can talk?” his eyes snap up, my soft words bringing him back to Earth.

Ghost nods so subtly, I almost miss it. His knuckles linger on the cut a moment longer, trying to absorb the pain he’s brought onto me. I break our contact and start toward the door before I get too accustomed to his gentle touch.

“Y/n,” I feel the heat of Ghost’s chest press against my back. Strong fingers press into my hips, urging me to turn around. My heart clenches at his softness. I long to feel his flesh mold with mine. To hear his husky voice against my ear as our breaths synchronize and our bodies connect. As I look up, those dark pools mirror my own, but with a deeper sense of urgency. “I won’t let them hurt you.”

I wrap both my hands around one of his and raise it to my neck. I press his calloused fingers to the ridge torn across my skin and revel in the tenderness.

“They already have.”

Pt 17:

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley imagine #ghost imagine #ghost fanfiction #cod ghost #cod fanfic #cod imagine #soap cod #cod #cod mw x reader #ghost mwii #call of duty mwii #mw2 imagine #mw2 fanfic #he knows

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autumnoficarus · 6 months

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i'm devastated but like in a good way, and I have a lot of lokius thoughts I need to jot down before i pull a timely and become spaghetti

spoilers for season 2's finale below !!

so in this house, lokius is alive and thriving - because listen:

Firstly, i've seen a lot of people upset with the finale and while that's super valid, here's some positive thoughts on why I kinda sorta dig what was given to us.

the recap never included that one ship while catching up on the main plot points of everything that has happened since the show's beginning. I think that should be pointed out idk.

from a fic writer standpoint the fact that Loki spent CENTURIES??? (+however long fighting sylvie and having repeating conversations with HWR) Like literally a huge chunk of time we don't see trying to fix things has so much potential. I'm giddy abt that ngl

That when Loki needed advice most, he time-slipped to Mobius to ask him his opinion. Not only that, he time-slipped to when they don't know each other yet, because he wants a Mobius who is unbiased. He's aware that were he to go to a place in the timeline where they're now close, Mobius would try and talk him out of abandoning all hope.

He knows, much like with Mobius' story, he's been hesitating to look past himself - to see the bigger picture, instead of what he wants. That hesitation has led to years and years of consequences, Loki failing each and every time, similar to how the officer of Mobius' story delaying the prune of a variant led to an eruption of consequences that resulted in the harm of their comrades too.

What Loki wants is save his friends, ultimately. At first, he wants to save his friends and be able to experience life amongst the timeline branches with them. He tells Sylvie he doesn't know where he would belong without them. What Loki realizes in the end is that to give them the choice he believes they deserve, he has to make a choice of his own. In the end, he finds belonging (at least for now, because I refuse to believe this is the end of TVA Loki's storyline) in putting those he loves before himself and what he wants, something Loki has done only a handful of times throughout the entire Marvel series. He needs that growth character-wise because, as we know, he will be involved in the next big phase.

I think that Loki time-slipping to ask Mobius for advice parallels last episode's 'it's about WHO' again. Who has given him the chance to be a better version of himself the entire show? Who helped him overcome his deep distrust in others, learning to care for them instead - so much so that he sacrificed himself to protect them? And again, Mobius is who Loki went to when he was lost and his words are what guided Loki to the decision he made.

A Sylvie and Mobius scene where Sylvie is seen caring for Mobius in the aftermath??? Mobius wasn't offering comfort to Sylvie, he was depicted as more distraught than she was. In fact, I'd say they really wanted to get across how 'alone' he felt with Loki's absence, standing watching a life he never knew from afar.

(there's a whole unpacking i want to do here about how we previously saw Loki looking longingly across the street watching Don's life too, before whisking Don away from his mundane family life for a greater purpose; something about Mobius looking at that life and recognizing there's a missing piece to it, and it's back in a place he no longer feels he fits because the TVA is missing something too; something about Loki 'supposedly' finding where he belongs, but not Mobius. those are thoughts for another post though lmaoooo)

I think they left Mobius' arc open-ended because he still hasn't achieved that greater purpose. That's (hopefully) because it's meant to be fleshed out in either a later season or next movies to come. And (hopefully x2), that purpose becomes Mobius helping to somehow save Loki from his current fate.

The final moments?? Hello??? Mobius' voice echoing as we pan in on Loki holding the branches together, teary-eyed with a soft, melancholic smile??? Seeming to be listening in on Mobius amongst the branches??? Mobius' 'let time pass' because he doesn't know how to move on from losing Loki?? Come onnnn, the tragic angst in just those shots were CHEF KISS

Overall, I know it's a let down not to have an actual canon status but I mean - were we really expecting the mouse to come through for us??? At least, we didn't get a 'no homo' moment so I count that as a win against rickey the rat. Lokius survived the finale, and that's what really mattered for me tbh.

Like idk, I could also be biased because I kinda, really dig tragedy and slow burn angst. And that's what this finale gave us, along with so many possibilities !! Them being separated leaves so much that can happen !! Like, like - Mobius has the opportunity to have an arc about saving his bae from holding time together indefinitely - from Loki's greatest fear, being left alone. Mobius getting into marvel shenanigans in an attempt to reunite with Loki somehow is beautifully romantic to me ya'll idk. I am delusional and I fully embrace that fact.

Okay honestly this isn't even ALL MY THOUGGHTS I HAVE MORE but this is getting long so I'm stopping here (currently: sending morse code signals out to help pull me back from the brink of insanity)

#loki spoilers #loki season 2 #lokius #i might have went overboard with this im ngl #i'm just doing backflips about my blorbos and i can't stop ok #save me from myself i am foaming at the mouth i am rabid racoon that needs to be tased #i will not release my grubby little fingers from these two fictional goofballs you can't make me!!!!#txt: icarus has a bout of madness #marvel

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gintrinsic-writing · 6 months

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The Hero of Hyrule and Strife's Delivery Service

Globs of bloody saliva flew from the monster’s mouth as it screeched one final time. Lurching forward, it snapped its teeth in defiance once, twice, then toppled over. Its many tentacles twitched in a pattern not unlike a thready heartbeat before the monster stilled altogether.

Hyrule gulped in desperate breaths and hesitantly lowered his blade. Despite the frigid temperature, sweat made his tunic cling to his back. Goosebumps broke out across his skin; already, his fingers felt stiff with cold, and every breath burned like fire in the back of his throat. “Who—” He wetted his lips and tried again. “Who’re you?”

On the other side of the monster, a man in a strange, black outfit swung his sword up and over his shoulder until it rested flat against his back. The blade was longer than Hyrule was tall, but the motion appeared effortless. “Could ask the same of you,” the man said quietly.

Instinct made Hyrule suspicious of the situation, though he fought to remind himself that sometimes people were simply good. His time with the others had taught him that. “My name is Hyrule. I got separated from my friends.”

“Hm,” the man answered noncommittally, crossing his arms. “Weird place for a friendly weekend getaway.”

“I’m not actually sure where I am.”

If anything, the man looked even less impressed than before. “Twenty miles south of Gaea’s Cliff.” He frowned briefly at the monster, then glanced back at Hyrule. His eyes seemed to glow in the fading light. “Treasure hunter?”

“Ah, sure,” Hyrule answered awkwardly. It sounded better than “destined hero on a quest across timelines.” “Pardon, you never said who you are…?”

“Just a delivery boy.”

“A… delivery boy,” Hyrule repeated. He eyed the fallen monster again. “And that?”

“Malboro.”

Hyrule shook his head. He was beginning to shiver in earnest. “Never heard of—Whoa!” Suddenly, the monster dissolved into blue-green shimmering light. Within seconds, nothing remained of the fight except trampled snow. Hyrule couldn’t help but think of Wild’s sheikah tech. “Did it teleport?”

The man raised both brows. “It returned to the lifestream.”

“Right…” He rubbed his arms, teeth clacking faintly. He hoped the others had landed somewhere a little warmer. “Well, thank you for your help. That, ah, malboro took me by surprise.”

“It was a lucky hit.”

Hyrule eyed that ridiculous sword again. “Sure.”

The man sighed. “Maybe you should call your friends.”

“Oh, um, sure.” Hyrule shrugged, then cupped his hands around his mouth. “Legend! Time! Anybody! Hello?” His voice echoed faintly before it succumbed to the sounds of nature. Nobody called back.

“I meant…” The man huffed. “Do you not have a phone?”

“A phone?” Hyrule asked, ears twitching uncertainly.

The man blinked at him. For a moment, his eyes looked more green than blue. “Never mind. You’re clearly not…” He waved vaguely toward Hyrule.

“Not what?”

“Nothing. Come on, let’s mosey. Whatever you are, you’ll freeze to death without shelter. Probably.” That said, the man turned on his heels and began striding across the icy tundra.

“But…” Hyrule hurried to catch up. His toes felt numb. “What about my friends?”

“I’ll find them.” Somehow, the man sounded both confident and unenthused. Hyrule thought he and Legend might get along.

“Okay, thanks. I can help, though!” It would only be right, and besides, Hyrule still didn’t entirely trust this guy. And it was obvious the feeling was mutual. “Are you not cold?”

“No.”

“No to help, or no to the cold?”

“Yes.”

Hyrule fought a sigh of his own. He followed the delivery boy and prayed this wasn’t a new Link.

#i said i wanted to write a lu and yyh crossover and then ffvii happened #whoops i guess #anyway i have strong feelings about ffvii and lately i've been thinking a lot about that part 2 #linked universe #lu fic #lu hyrule #cloud strife #gintrinsic writing

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mr-nauseam · 1 month

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SnowJanus Week Day 2. Canon Divergence . Dear Coryo... I feel like I'm losing my mind.

The nightmares that plagued me are only getting worse. Today you died among rainbow snakes, and Marcus is still hanging from the rafter, like a bloody angel, reminding me of my sins. And as usual I could do nothing but mourn your losses, drowning in tears instead of saving both of you.

I woke up crying and my Ma came running to my side, in a vain attempt to calm me down. The poor thing does nothing but tear her nails to shreds, when she thinks no one sees her because I'm an absolute mess. I wish I didn't worry her so much. She doesn't deserve to be so restless, but I have no idea how to help myself. Getting out of bed, seems impossible with each passing day, and all I want to do is rot in the sheets.

It's selfish. I know. But I have promised her to try harder to keep on living? and so I keep on going to my therapist even though my sessions continue to come to nothing. I have signed up to have a stranger repeat to me what my father tells me all the time: that I am lucky, that I waste every opportunity life offers me with my pessimism and everything would be better if only I would change my attitude-

Sejanus takes the eraser and decides to erase that last part. Remembering with regret, that in reality Coriolanus would agree with those words, he was always so suspicious of what he called Sejanus ' capricious attitude. He frowns at the discomfort at those words, until he pauses at the blank space left on the sheet, and the discomfort of what he is doing hits him.

Was he really complaining to Coryo, about his sad existence as a privileged child, while he was living in poverty for almost a decade without telling anyone, without asking for help, and still getting perfect grades? Coriolanus whose attitude was controlled and polite, whose appearance was neat and shiny, Coryo the perfect citizen, who starved, and sacrificed everything so that in the end the Capitol, would punish him for his kindness, by saving the life of a girl from the districts, with whom he fell in love -and whose fate no one knew. Almost as if she had disappeared in the wind after her victory.

Coryo's future was doomed.

Forced to be a peacekeeper, unable to study at the university, with Sejanus, and unable to fulfill his dreams. Once, before the ill-fated tenth games, Coriolanus smiling as he rarely saw him, told him that his grandmother had always believed he could become president of Panem. And while he always appreciated the comment as a simple demonstration of her affection, he had begun to consider the possibility seriously in recent years.

President Snow. The idea might be fantastic, but now it was impossible. He was far away, and not only that, but the Snows had lost their ancestral home in the Corso, and the Plinths had moved in just below, like usurpers, moving into a new apartment they didn't need. Guilt twisted his insides and Sejanus wanted to tear up his letter, not to send anything this time, until he could think of something better to say, because he could not burden his only friend with his irrational worries, when he had bigger problems and he only stopped himself from doing it, because he remembered that letters, is the only thing they will have for 20 years.

Letters that arrived every fortnight.

Did Sejanus really want to waste this opportunity? His therapist's voice echoed, and he had to agree with him. He wrote where the ghost of the letters of his fury lay:

I miss you so much. I hope you are well. Tell me all about your training. You'll do great, I have no doubt about it, you've always been so talented and smart, and your father was an important Colonel. I'm sure it's in your blood.

Are you thinking of taking the officer's exam? With the certificate we sent you you can qualify, you just need to study and... . Almost all my fanfics are divergences from canon so I took the opportunity to delve into certain details of my fav creation: Suffocation Timeline one and for which I am finally writing a sequel :)

#sleepysnowjanusweek #snowjanusweek #snowjanus #coriolanus x sejanus #coriolanus snow #sejanus plinth #tbosas #fanfic #one shot #ballad of toxic yaoi

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atimelesslullaby · 27 days

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Meet the Mun

ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘɪᴄᴋ ᴜᴘ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛ ᴍᴜꜱᴇ(ꜱ) ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ?

Oh, goodness. In 2013 This actually started out as a Twilight Princess Zelda with some friends, who I parted ways with on not so friendly terms. Then it was an OoT Zelda in a group, before November 2014 when I turned her indie. I've loved OoT Zelda since I was young, at first, it was solely for her beauty. As I grew older, and began to understand her character, I only loved her more.

some past urls have been: 'greaterlight' - 'magickick' - 'sagexftime'

ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ?

Smut. I will not write it, even though we're both of age. Anything of the like will strictly be fade to black. Nothing against those who enjoy writing it, and I'm not sex repulsed. It's just not my thing.

ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ?

I do like action, though I rarely get to write it. I also want to explore her extreme guilt for what happened. Let's be real, the events of OoT happened because *she* decided her dream was prophecy, and set the gears turning. It was, as she even says herself, all her fault. I feel like she's one of the most flawed Zeldas out there. Most of them are selfless, kind, completely devoted to saving everything. While OoT Zelda was similar, she's also very selfish. She sent a total stranger on a quest, she expected him to protect her while she sealed Ganon away, and even in the end. She abused her power over time to create new timelines. She didn't even ask if Link wanted to be sent back to his childhood.

Good intentioned as it was, it was selfish.

ʜᴏᴡ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴜᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ?

I've made this Zelda my own, really, as we get hardly any adult Zelda canon. We get two legitimate scenes with her, and two small ones. That's it. If an idea comes to me, I'll introspect on it, and if I feel it deserving, make a headcanon post about it.

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ɪɴ ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴏʀ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ?

When writing her, I'll often listen to the ending of OoT. The part where she and Link are together in the sky, and listen up until the end, then repeat until I've finished writing. Not *always*, but often. I absolutely adore the music.

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʟᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇᴘʟɪᴇꜱ ᴏʀ ᴡɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ?

I can do both! I've been told very often that people are intimidated by the lengths I can reach. All I can say is please, don't be intimidated by how long my replies can get. As long as you give me something to work with, length doesn't really matter.

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ꜱʜɪᴘᴘɪɴɢ?

Oh goodness yes, when it's developed well. I don't have any current ships on Zelda's blog anymore than I can remember, they've all been lost to the echoes of time. One of them is still alive, but it's strictly on Discord. That being said, if you want to plan a ship, let me know! My Zelda is heteroromantic, demisexual. All you cute guys out there hit a girl up

ᴡʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀʟɪᴀꜱ/ɴᴀᴍᴇ?

You can call me Bear, you can call me Danny. Either works!

ᴀɢᴇ?

I turned 32 a few months ago

ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ?

January 9th

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴏʀ(ꜱ)?

Orange and Brown

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ꜱᴏɴɢ(ꜱ)?

I mostly listen to animated music. I don't know if I could pick a true favorite, but the first song that comes to mind is the reprise of "Part of Your World" from The Little Mermaid (who I also write lmao, I have four main blogs)

ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜᴇᴅ?

When The Wind Blows

ʟᴀꜱᴛ ꜱʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜᴇᴅ?

I'm afraid I don't watch television

ʟᴀꜱᴛ ꜱᴏɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪꜱᴛᴇɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ?

Part of Your World (I was practicing it yesterday, only got the first half recorded cause I didn't like how the second half came out u_u)

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ꜰᴏᴏᴅ?

Tomato Soup with lots of cheese :3c

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ꜱᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ?

Winter. Long nights, starry skies, snowy fields. I adore it.

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ?

I don't want to exclude anyone, there are many people I care about on Tumblr. But if I had to choose one person, I'd say @trencri. I've known Donnie for two years now, but it feels like we've been friends for ages. We've talked near every day for those two years. We relate on a lot of subjects, both IC and OOC.

Tagged By: @red-man-of-mustache (Thank you <3)

#A Timeless Memory ; Saved #ooc

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cha-melodius · 1 year

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Lokius whump prompt requester here 👋

Seriously how does your brain work because what you wrote is totally unexpected BUT SO FITTING to the prompt and freaking AMAZING 😭 Thanks for taking the prompt and introducing me to time-loop trope because I can already feel the WHUMP!

Hello anon, thank you again for the wonderful prompt, and I'm sorry it's taken me apparently a month to get to chapter 2 (a month! how did that happen?!). But I am happy to finally have it for you, although there's still a chapter 3 to come, hopefully sooner than later! So here it is:

It's Been a Bad Day Lately, Chapter 2

Chapter 2 on AO3 | Chapter 1

Loki doesn’t actually tell anyone about the device or his apparent foreknowledge of the day the first time through. After all, even if it seems that everyone else is completely ignorant of what the hell is going on, that doesn’t mean the TVA isn’t behind it somehow. They’re the Time Variance Authority after all. Repeating days feels like something they’d traffic in. He wants to trust Mobius at least, but he can’t help but be reminded that this Mobius still doesn’t know him, not really, and he can’t rule out that Mobius is purposefully being kept in the dark. It would track with how things were running before.

He can’t even be sure if he’s truly reliving the day—which doesn’t really seem possible, given what he knows about timelines and traveling among them—or if he really did dream it all. The device, of course, suggest a more tangible explanation. It’s not unreasonable to think it’s somehow related to the whole mess, but it also seems to be, well, broken. Whatever happened when Loki got shot also put a large crack in the face of it, and he hasn’t been able to get it to turn on or do anything. The strap had also snapped when he pulled it off of Richards’ wrist (did he really? he must have), but the idea of leaving it behind makes something crawl uncomfortably beneath his skin, so he loops what’s left of it onto a chain like a pendant and tucks it safely under his TVA-issued shirt.

The day goes about as well as it did before, which is to say, pretty terribly. Despite knowing it was going to happen, he still loses track of Mobius, and the knowledge of the outcome of that sends him into a panic that ends with some poor decisions and him staring down the barrel a truly monstrous gun.

It’s easier waking up the second time. Or is it third? His hand goes automatically to the device still hanging around his neck, but this time he also can’t help but wince at the phantom pain of the chest shot that took him out. He’s alive, there’s no hole blown in his ribcage, but the ghost of it lingers like an echo in his memory for a few minutes before it fades. B-15 frowns and tilts her head at him clutching his chest like he’s having a heart attack, but makes no comment beyond the words he’s already come to expect.

He doesn’t wait for her to finish before he takes off to find Mobius.

Normally they don’t meet up before the briefing, but this time Loki storms into the wing of the building reserved for the senior analysts’ apartments and pounds insistently on Mobius’s door until the man himself pulls it open. For a moment, Loki entirely forgets why he’s there, because Mobius is half dressed in slacks and a thin, sleeveless undershirt that clings to every curve of his torso and leaves precisely nothing to the imagination. He’s barefoot and his short hair is still tousled from bed, and the whole thing should not be as attractive as it works out to be. Even the annoyed purse of his lips is alluring. Fuck.

This is, sadly, not the first time Loki has found himself experiencing a tug of not-entirely-unexpected desire for the analyst. Look, he isn’t blind, anyone can see that Mobius is a handsome man, made even more intriguing by the interplay of the hard edges and soft spots of his character. How he won’t let Loki get away with anything while at same time giving in all the time to Loki’s little eccentricities. Loki’s never quite seen him like this, though, all enticingly sleep-rumpled, and it’s kind of a lot to deal with considering everything else going on.

“Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to tell me what the devil couldn’t wait for another thirty minutes?” Mobius demands, frowning. It’s a fair question, because Loki is pretty sure he’s been staring for the last two minutes, which is precisely one minute and 59 seconds too long for such things.

Loki manages to blink himself back to reality and clears his throat, shoving whatever that is deep, deep down where he decidedly will not examine it any time in the next millennium. “What do you know about time loops?”

“Like in the time cells?” Mobius asks, his brow furrowing.

“No. Like, reliving the same day over and over again.”

Mobius shakes his head. “Not possible.”

“What do you mean ‘not possible’?” Loki asks.

“Not sure I can be any clearer,” Mobius huffs. “That kind of recursive loop in an active timeline is impossible. You could travel backwards a day I guess, but then there’d be two variants of you in the same timeline.”

This is pretty much what Loki had figured, given what he had learned about the multiverse, but it does nothing to help him figure out his particular problem. “So you’re not aware of any technology that would allow someone to completely reset the day after being killed and try it again in the same body, with all their memories from the previous day?”

“What?” Mobius says, clearly dumbfounded. “Of course not. A variant that dies—not pruned, but killed—is dead, Loki. There’s no coming back from that.”

Loki hesitates, but there’s no one else he can talk to about this. He reaches up to touch the device under his shirt absentmindedly, carefully choosing his next words. “What if there was?”

The problem is, Mobius is a stubborn man. He knows far more about how timelines work than Loki ever will, and he refuses to believe Loki experienced anything more than a very vivid dream. Timelines don’t work that way, he insists, and there’s no way to make them work that way. Even the broken device in Loki’s possession doesn’t sway him, probably because it’s, well, broken. Not terribly convincing, as it turns out.

Unexpectedly, Loki coming to talk to Mobius apparently perturbs the timeline enough that things seem to be going differently. It’s enough that even Loki starts to doubt himself, even though he already lived through this day twice before, even though he can vividly remember the pain of dying twice, even though he knows that he took the device directly from Richards’ wrist himself. Maybe it means that this time will go differently, though, that the future isn’t as written as it seems to be, that today won’t end with both of them dead.

But then, right before they depart through the time doors, Mobius says, “It’s gonna work this time, I can feel it.”

Shit.

“Mobius, listen to me,” Loki says urgently, grabbing him by the arm. “If this goes the way I think it will, it’s going to be a bloodbath.”

Mobius sighs, because they’ve been over this. “You can’t know what’s going to happen out there. We’re outside of time right now. No one can travel to a previous time point in the TVA.”

“But if I do know—”

“Then something very strange is going on, yes,” Mobius finished for him. He hesitates a moment, still frowning. “What do you think is going to happen?”

“Richards is dug in with an army of very well-armed men around him. What it takes to get to him…” Loki trails off and looks down at his hand, even though he knows he won’t find Mobius’s blood on it. He can still picture it, though, still almost feel its warmth. “Promise me you’ll stay near me,” he finally says as he meets Mobius’s gaze again. “That you won’t run off.”

“I don’t need a babysitter, Loki,” Mobius scoffs.

Loki’s hand shoots out to grab his wrist, fingers automatically shifting until he finds a pulse. “Please, Mobius,” he begs. “Promise.”

He doesn’t want to know what’s in his eyes that makes Mobius blink, looking slightly taken aback. “Ok,” he answers softly. “I promise.”

Later, Loki thinks back to this moment and can’t understand how it could be such a difficult promise to keep.

~~~~~

“It’s gonna work this time, I can feel it.”

“I wish I could share your optimism.”

~~~~~

“It’s gonna work this time, I can feel it.”

“I’ll wager you it won’t.”

~~~~~

“It’s gonna work this time, I can—”

“By the Norns, would you stop?” Loki snaps. “Nothing is going to change. I’ve been through this five times before, and nothing ever changes!”

Mobius stares at him, his mouth still hanging slightly open. “What do you mean you’ve been through it five times?”

“I’ve literally lived this day five times, Mobius,” Loki hisses, trying not to draw attention from the hunters nearby. “Every time, we fail. Every time, I die, and every time, I wake up again, here, at the beginning of the same day.”

“That’s—”

“Not possible, I am well aware. But it’s happening all the same.”

“Why didn’t you say anything before right now?”

Loki groans in frustration. “Because you never believe me. You say it’s impossible, that time doesn’t work that way—”

“Because it doesn’t,” Mobius cuts in.

“—and so nothing about the operation changes except for what I do. And it’s not enough,” Loki huffs. It’s never, ever enough. It took him four loops just to figure out why Mobius kept disappearing—an attack on the third sub-basement divides their meager forces in half, and somehow Mobius always ends up in the other group, forced to retreat down a hidden side passage—but he can’t do anything when the hunters and minutemen won’t listen to him.

“Huh,” Mobius says, looking oddly thoughtful. It’s certainly not the response Loki expected.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Mobius shrugs. “If this is really happening to you—not saying it is, but if—it sounds like you need to find a way to convince me earlier, so we can come up with a new plan.”

“I— what?” Loki boggles at him. “And how, pray tell, am I supposed to do that?”

“You’re a clever guy. I’m sure you’ll figure something out,” Mobius says with a grin as he claps Loki on the shoulder.

If only it was as reassuring as Mobius no doubt intends it to be.

~~~~~

“Loki, what—?” Mobius sputters when Loki pushes past him into his apartment the next loop.

He hasn’t come here every morning since the first time, mostly because trying to explain everything is already starting to get tiresome. Still, he’s become familiar enough with how things go.

“Watch the table,” he says offhandedly as he disappears into Mobius’s bedroom to retrieve a shirt, jacket and tie.

“Huh?” Mobius says, right as he shuffles into the coffee table and stubs his toe, then hobbles away swearing.

“That’ll be the coffee,” Loki continues when he reemerges, moments before a beep sounds in the kitchen. He shoves the clothes at a bewildered Mobius and heads in to retrieve the mug from under the coffee maker and grab the cream from the fridge. Mobius appears in the doorway—Loki knows without checking—and leans against the frame as he buttons his shirt. “Stop frowning, I know how you take it.”

“You’re not even looking at me.”

“Don’t have to,” Loki replies without turning around. “You’re going to ask how I can be sure you still take your coffee the same as the Mobius I knew before, to which I will respond that, even though you do, it doesn’t matter because I’m well aware of how you take it, and then you’ll insist that I’ve never seen you prepare it, which was true before today, but no longer. I think that about catches us up, don’t you?”

Mobius is, predictably, gaping at him when he finally turns, and Loki can’t resist the pleased smirk that tugs on his lips. Perhaps he should have tried this earlier, but then again, he needed a few repetitions to be completely sure of how the morning would go. He walks over and hands Mobius the coffee mug, which the other man takes automatically, then tugs at the ends of the tie looped under his collar and begins to tie it while Mobius is still seemingly stuck staring at him.

A moment later, Mobius appears to come back to himself, and he swallows. “W-what are you doing?” he asks, his voice oddly tight.

“Plenty to do this morning,” Loki replies lightly, letting his lips tip into a smirk. “I’m afraid we can’t afford to dawdle.”

“And how did you know all that other stuff?”

“Easy,” Loki says as he finishes tying the tie and gives it a little pat before stepping back. “I’ve lived this day before. And before you protest that it’s impossible, know that I’ve had this conversation with you five times before and am very familiar with every possible argument about how the timelines do or do not work.”

“That’s…” Mobius begins, trailing off for a long moment as his eyes search Loki’s face. Loki readies himself for the inevitable impossible, despite his warning, but instead Mobius finishes, “amazing.”

Loki cocks a skeptical eyebrow at him. “Really?”

“I mean, you’re right, it should be impossible, but… I dunno, Loki. There’s something about you that feels different. Can’t put my finger on it.”

“Huh,” Loki huffs, frowning. He hadn’t considered the possibility that the looping might change him in some way, although now that he thinks about it, he supposes it’s inevitable. He’s living out days and remembering them, moving forward in his life, even if no one else is.

“When you say you’ve been reliving, you mean the day resets when you go to sleep?” Mobius asks.

“When I die,” Loki answers bluntly, and Mobius’s eyes go wide. “So far I haven’t lasted long enough to go to sleep.”

Mobius swallows hard again. “I think I need to sit down.”

Without really thinking about it, Loki takes ahold of Mobius’s elbow and steers him back into the living room. They both sit on the couch, close enough that their knees knock together when Loki turns slightly toward him, and he doesn’t let himself contemplate the fact that he feels better when they’re some kind of in contact. That there’s a strange kind of reassurance in the solidity of Mobius’s body next to him. Each time he wakes up everything feels a little more unreal, but this helps. Even if he has to force himself not to reach out and press his fingers to the pulse point on Mobius’s wrist.

Loki explains how the day goes as quickly as he can—what goes wrong on the operation, and how he thinks they might do better—and Mobius just listens, taking long sips from his coffee at regular intervals. The biggest issues is the weapons, but Mobius still resists him on that point; the minutemen are good in hand-to-hand combat but haven’t been trained with firearms, and with only an hour before the operation is scheduled to depart, there’s little time to change that. Loki already guesses that pushing back the operation is probably a long shot. He might be able to convince Mobius, but the TVA here isn’t run by one person, there’s a team making the decisions, and there’s no way they’ll listen to him. Loki and Mobius talk about different strategies until they can’t put off joining the rest any longer, and he can’t help but feel a little hopeful as they gear up. Things will be different this time.

Too late, he realizes that he sounds just like—

“It’s gonna work this time, I can feel it.”

Loki scrubs a palm down his face and sends a little prayer to the Norns that when dies this time, it might be quick.

~~~~~

Don’t get him wrong, dying sucks. Most of the time whatever wound he gets isn’t enough to kill him instantly. Once he drowns in his own blood, and he thinks nothing could be worse until he’s slowly crushed under rubble after an explosion. But none of it, he thinks, is as bad as watching Mobius die over and over again. Every one of those deaths is indelibly etched in his memory, along with every time Mobius calls him a good man right before the end.

If he was good, he’d be able to get them out of this mess. If he was good, he’d be able to protect his— his— friends. Loki is well aware that he’s started giving up, letting himself be killed, when Mobius dies—maybe he has been from the beginning—but no, he would not like to examine that too closely, thank you.

Once, after a particularly brutal loop, Loki barely waits for Mobius to open the door before surging forward and enveloping him in a crushing hug.

“Loki, what—?” Mobius huffs, but he also hugs him back immediately, and something unknots in Loki’s chest at the feeling of Mobius’s broad hand rubbing reassuring circles between his shoulder blades.

Loki tucks his face against Mobius’s neck, which is probably too intimate a position for what they are to each other, but he can feel his pulse throbbing there, steady and real, and he doesn’t really care. “If I told you not to go on the mission today, would you listen?” he asks, his voice muffled.

“You know I couldn’t,” Mobius murmurs, and Loki knows, he knows he’ll never convince Mobius to stay behind, but he doesn’t know how much more he can take of this. Mobius holds Loki a minute longer before he pulls back slightly. “Now what’s this all about?”

Even with Mobius’s help in planning, they can’t seem to break through Richards’ defenses. Every time they think they’ve cracked the pattern, that they’ve anticipated every attack, another one pops up that they never foresaw just because they’d never gotten that far before. Richards is simply too dug in; they’d need to go back further than a single day to really catch him unawares, and that’s just not possible.

“What if you just took two of the best hunters, say B-15 and D-90—”

“Not D-90,” Loki interrupts, wrinkling his nose.

“—Fine,” Mobius sighs, “G-35, then, like a targeted strike team. You could slip past a lot of these obstacles, and the rest of us could draw their attention away.”

It’s basically what he did the very first time through, when he actually made it to Richards’ inner sanctum, which is why Loki knows it would work. But that doesn’t mean it would be successful. He shakes his head. “No, I can’t do that.”

“What do you mean? It doesn’t work?”

Loki stares at the man across from him, blue eyes unflinchingly holding his gaze. It should be easy to lie to him, Loki is the prince of lies, but when he opens his mouth what comes out is a strained, “I can get to him. I still died.”

“But if you can talk to him—”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“How many times have you tried?” Mobius demands, frowning like he knows exactly what Loki is holding out on him.

“It doesn’t matter,” Loki repeats insistently.

“Loki.”

“Once, ok?!” Loki snaps, leaping to his feet. He strides off across the modest living room until he can go no further, then slumps onto one hand against a bookshelf and stares at the ground as he quietly adds, “The very first time.”

Mobius, of course, is not about to let this go. Out of the corner of his eye, Loki sees him stand. “Well, why haven’t you tried again?”

“It’s not—” Loki starts, then breaks off with a sigh. “The costs are too high.”

“You can’t possibly know what will happen to the team that gets left behind,” Mobius argues. “Maybe it’s not so bad.”

Loki groans in frustration as he finally looks up again, folding his arms across his chest. “I know you died the first time, Mobius.”

“But you can’t be sure it’ll happen again.”

“I can’t be sure it won’t.”

“So?” Mobius challenges, a determined fire glinting in his eye. “Maybe it’s worth the risk, if it means getting Richards. If it means getting you out of this loop.”

“It’s not,” Loki insists stubbornly.

“Maybe it is for me. Did you ever think to ask?”

“I don’t care, because it’s not worth it to me.”

“It’s my life, Loki! I can’t see why it matters whether the risk is worth it to you!”

“Because I can’t lose you again, Mobius!” Loki nearly shouts, finally pushed to the breaking point.

The apartment is deathly silent for several long minutes after that, and Loki squeezes his eyes closed. There it is, then. The truth he’d been trying to hide even from himself. Maybe he’d been in love with Mobius even before the reset, or maybe he hadn’t been, but it doesn’t matter now. Spending as many loops as he had with him—working with him, joking with him, being with him—had done the necessary damage. And to make matters worse, Mobius remembers none of it. Loki is barely better than a stranger to him.

“You can’t… you don’t mean me…” Mobius finally says, much closer than he’d been before, and when Loki opens his eyes he finds him standing right in front of him. Staring up at him with an expression full of confusion and trepidation.

“Yes, I mean you,” Loki sighs. “Not some other you who doesn’t even exist, or the person you were before, because there’s no difference. I’ve been doing this for more than a month, Mobius. There’s only you.” He turns away again, then, because he can’t bear to see whatever pity or disbelief might be wrought on Mobius’s face. This isn’t the point, anyway, they’re wasting time they don’t have when they should be focused on the operation. “There has to be another way. Something we’re not seeing—”

A hand on his arm stops him. “Loki, look at me,” Mobius says softly. He tugs gently, pulling Loki around to face him again, and before Loki really understands what’s happening he’s stretching up and pressing their lips together. It’s not much, just a chaste brush, but it sends little zips of electricity sizzling along Loki’s skin.

“What— what was that for?” he manages after Mobius pulls back, unable to make sense of what’s happening. It shouldn’t be possible, that Mobius would be the one kissing him.

“Thought it’d be obvious,” Mobius answers with one-shouldered shrug and a lopsided half-smile. Tentative. Hopeful.

“But— you barely know me.”

“It doesn’t feel that way.”

Loki blinks at him. “It doesn’t?”

“Nope,” Mobius says easily, like that makes any sense at all.

Could it possibly mean that everything—all the memories, all the loops—are still inside him somewhere? And if they are, could that mean—

Mobius interrupts his snowballing thoughts by reaching up and thumbing across the arc of his cheekbone before pushing a lock of hair behind his ear. “Can I?” he murmurs.

Loki’s not even entirely sure what he’s asking, but he doesn’t care. He nods, and Mobius pulls him down into another kiss, one that lacks all the hesitation of the first. Their lips move together, pushing further and further until Mobius’s tongue licks at the seam of his lips. Loki opens up readily, letting their tongues tangle together in an intoxicating give and take. One of Loki’s hands curls around his waist, drawing him closer, as the other slides up behind his head, digging into the short hair at the nape of his neck. They kiss for minutes, for hours (who knows in this place), unhurried, as if they have all the time in the multiverse. When they do finally pull apart, Mobius stares up at him with such wonder on his face that Loki is quite unhelpfully slammed back to the reality of their circumstances.

“What’s wrong?” Mobius asks at the distress that must be written on his face. Loki lets the tips of his fingers skim lightly along the edge of Mobius’s jaw. “You’re not going to remember any of this.”

“I dunno. Seems like the kind of thing that might stick.”

Loki sighs. “That’s not how it works, Mobius.”

“You don’t know how it works,” Mobius counters. “And who knows, maybe this time we’ll be successful. No more loops.”

“I wish I could believe that’s possible.”

They’re still no closer to a plan that works, one that ends with them getting Richards and surviving at the same time, and while this morning has taken a rather unexpectedly delightful turn, it’s sadly not going to help all that much.

He’ll try, though. Norns know he’ll try like Hel.

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