#like yes you are telling a very clear story with the song and contemporary is balladic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bandaged-writer · 4 years

Text

swan song || dazai

➤ Pairing: PM! Dazai x Contemporary Dancer! Reader

➤ Genre: fluff, romance, angst

➤ Warnings: mention of minor character death, mentions of suicide, alcohol consumption, innuendos, murder in the form of a nightmare, violence, language, blood, mental breakdown

➤ Summary: Not even Dazai could predict that a certain calico cat would lead him to his serendipity made of bruised knees and angelic smiles.

➤ Word count: 10k

➤ Note: This fic is very important to me since it’s partially based on events I went through as a dancer myself; therefore, I’d be really happy to hear what you think of it. Have fun reading. <3

It was rare for Yokohama's streets to be completely empty, especially when the moon illuminated even the darkest alleys and offered to lead the way home for many lost souls. Ever since November arrived and the trees' leaves had already fallen, the temperatures had dropped considerably. Snow began to fall and wrapped the port city in a gentle blanket of white; even in the dark of the night, branches shimmered in the moon's light, streets became as clear as day as the artificial light of street lamps was reflected from the snow's surface.

For once, it was a tranquil night in which blood didn't stain the innocence of Yokohama.

Dull footsteps filled the silence as Dazai followed the calico cat - Sensei - out of the bar Lupin. The cat had been pawing at the brunette's pants, meowing at him to finally leave the empty bar and catch some fresh air. Truth be told, Dazai didn't know why he listened to a cat of all creatures which graced the surface of this planet. Maybe it was the tiny voice in his head which wanted him to go home, rest his sore limbs and hopefully find some peace and quiet in the form of sleep.

"Where are you leading me to, Sensei?" Dazai's tongue still tickled with the taste of whiskey, but his head was very much sober. Chocolate orbs watched how the cat left tiny prints of his paws in the snow and merely meowed at him in response as if telling the mafioso to trust him. Who was Dazai to deny the request of a lucky charm on four legs? "Yeah, yeah, got it." Odd, how the mafia executive found comfort in talking to a cat.

Dazai's breath came out in white puffs of air which dissolved into nothing, the cold nipped at his cheeks and would hug him like the familiar arms of death if it weren't for the black coat wrapped around his slim form. As much as Dazai craved to die, freezing to death wasn't his favorite way to leave this world; he had standards, after all.

Streets had long since blurred into one another when Sensei suddenly meowed out loud and pawed at the spinning door made of glass which was rimmed by a golden color. Raising his gaze, Dazai recognized the building immediately. It was an expensive theater which was often rented by the mafia to celebrate the success of bigger missions. Famous actors, singers and even dancers held their performances in the vast venue, but it was nothing but another building at night.

"Are you sure, buddy?" A small smile decorated Dazai's usually unreadable face, a curious shimmer flashed in his eyes as he heard the soft bass of music being played from within. Another proof that Sensei certainly wasn't an average cat. Intrigued by what - or rather who - was awaiting him, Dazai entered and let a sigh of relief slip his chapped lips, Sensei always right by his side.

Warmth greeted the mafioso, the red carpet below his feet silenced any sound his shoes could cause and possibly startle whoever was at the very heart of the theater. Cash registers were unoccupied, snack bars were filled with various treats, but they seemed to be untouched as well as the alcohol on display. Everything that was of value was still in place, unscathed.

Every step Dazai took was in sync with the rhythm which faintly caressed his ears and he found himself enjoying the calm beat. Before the brunette knew it, he stood in the middle of rows upon rows of chairs, the cushions cold and unused as his eyes were focused on the dancer, clad in black, on the wooden stage. Dazai only registered how Sensei leapt on one of the chairs, everything else was unimportant.

Bare feet floated across the floor from left to right, arms moved gracefully like the stretching wings of a swan. Eyes were closed in concentration as your heels turned to the right and your arms rested across your torso. Your left hand went around your head once, traced the line of your right arm and ended up intertwined with your other hand. Stretching your leg out in front of you, you swiftly kicked the limb to your side and let your torso follow the movement by dipping it low and coming to a standing position.

The song Dazai didn't know came to an end, your heavy breathing filled the room along with the soft sound of your feet padding along the stage.

"You know that staring at a woman is rude, don't you?" Your voice was rough around the edges as your lungs grasped for some much needed air. A thin layer of sweat made your face shine in the dim light and a smile settled down on your lips. Ripped out of his mesmerized state, Dazai chuckled at your reaction - he had expected you to yell at him, scream, threaten him, but instead, you called him out. "True beauty even makes a gentleman stare," he said.

A rosy blush bloomed on your cheeks as you suddenly laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls which were decorated with rich designs and several paintings you couldn't name. "You sure know how to flatter a woman. I'll give you that," you sat down on the edge of the stage, right in front of Dazai and reached for your half empty water bottle. Honestly, you couldn't quite believe the stranger's words; who found a sweating person beautiful? Either way, you didn't bother to ask and simply let him have his fun. The mafioso sat down on one of the many chairs, took off his coat and let Sensei cuddle himself into the fabric.

"Can you do that again?"

"Huh?"

"Dancing. Can you dance once more?" It was an innocent request from Dazai's point of view. He wanted to understand what you danced to, what made your body move and how you moved it. He wanted to understand the story behind it. With a soft gaze, you leaned forward, chin resting on your palm. "In exchange for your name, I will consider dancing, again," the smile on your face was pure, there were no hidden intentions behind your persona, just the innocence of curiosity. You were far from being a threat. "My name is Dazai. Dazai Osamu."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Dazai. I'm [Name] and not someone to deny the audience a wish," grabbing the hem of your black button down shirt, you wiped some sweat off your forehead and made your way to the bluetooth speakers which stood somewhere in the shadows.

Dazai found himself drawn to the mere way you walked. Yes, he had seen many confident women, especially in the mafia - Kouyou was the best example for that, but no one carried themselves like you. There was an air of elegant confidence surrounding your being like a halo, every step was memorized by your legs, every turn you took was sharp. Dazai had never interacted with a dancer before, but he could tell you were one. An experienced dancer, too.

His train of thought was interrupted by the soft sound of a plucking instrument being played and he saw the way you fell into a completely different persona. The air around you seemed to change into a melancholic one, your face reflecting emotions he saw daily: fear, anguish, melancholy. Gone was the friendly you. It was replaced by someone who looked like you.

Naked feet glided across the stage with ease as you seemed to become the beat yourself. Muscles smoothly tensed up to hit a sharp beat and immediately slid into a more relaxed state like it was the only thing you knew how to do, like it was breathing.

The closer Dazai looked, the more he noticed the calloused parts of your feet and for a moment, he wondered how much it had to hurt, but your face showed no signs of discomfort - if anything, you were at peace, in the middle of your very essence.

Much like paintings, Dazai didn't quite understand the story behind it, couldn't put together the pieces you showed him. He only finished the edge of the puzzle you performed which gave the mafioso a slight idea of the bigger picture you were trying to show him and maybe if Dazai asked, you would tell him the story behind the dance. For some reason, he sensed that it was an intimate question to which the answer was the moves you generously provided.

A slow jazz beat filled the empty bar named Lupin at nearly 00:00 o'clock, the faint smell of alcohol and cigarettes lingered pleasantly in the air. Only two seats were occupied at such a late hour; one by Dazai and the other seat was taken by Odasaku, the brunette's best friend.

"You've been looking at the clock quite a few times now. You still got plans?" Odasaku took a sip of his glass of whiskey with a large ice cube in it. The liquor pleasantly burned his throat and warmed the older man up from within - very welcoming considering the minus temperatures waiting outside of the bar. A single finger traced the edge of Dazai's own glass, his mind occupied with something - no, someone - else. "I can't hide anything from you, can I, Odasaku?" A tranquil smile found home on Dazai's slightly chapped lips. Something about Oda figuring him out like any other person made Dazai feel normal instead of an oh-so-called demonic prodigy with an unmatched intellect.

The mafia executive rested his cheek on his palm as he recalled the recent events. Sensei leading him to the theater, the soft thumping of a bass caressing his ears and his eyes landing on someone who bloomed on stage like a flower which was about to wither. "I was wondering if she was still up." At that, Odasaku's interest was piqued. It wasn't unusual for his suicidal friend to woo a woman, but it was unusual for him to wonder what his latest encounter was up to. "She?" The man was fairly curious, given that he usually witnessed how Dazai took a pretty lady home, but this time, Oda couldn't recall someone catching his friend's interest.

"Last night, Sensei lead me to the theater which the boss often rents for celebrations. I thought that maybe Sensei just needed a place to sleep at, but when I got there, I met [Name]." Slowly, Dazai twirled his glass and watched the liquid moving around while Oda was attentively listening. It certainly wasn't a common story to meet someone. "She's a dancer. Ah, what was that style called?" The brunette looked up at the ceiling in thought, eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly. "Temporary? No, contemporary! She's a contemporary dancer."

"Let me guess. You want to see her, again." Oda spoke, finished his glass and looked at his dear friend in wonder. He didn't know who you were, probably never even saw your face, but the fact that you somehow managed to charm Dazai was quite a feat. After all, Dazai rarely thought of anything or anyone interesting enough unless it challenged his mind. "I do. But I don't know why." Dazai admitted, his lips pulled into a soft frown as he stared at his still full glass. For some reason, he had lost interest in getting pleasantly buzzed with Odasaku. "There's nothing special about her nor am I interested in dance and yet.." Dazai trailed off for a second and sighed. You confused him, although you were so easy to read and figure out. The blush on your cheeks gave away that you liked having Dazai's attention, you were easy to please. "She's pretty. I guess I enjoy being near her."

If anyone else had told Oda about Dazai's encounter with a dancer, he probably would've thought of it as a joke, but hearing such words from Dazai himself changed the situation. He could tell the younger man meant what he said and wasn't only trying to woo you for as long as you'd please the executive.

"Well? Is there any more to the story?"

"I only watched her dance, Odasaku."

"That's it?"

"That's it." Dazai confirmed with a tender nod of his head, brown locks going with the motion.

Odasaku looked at the clock - 00:30. For once, he felt like Dazai might see something more in a person than mere profit for one of his plans and he was looking forward to the day that epiphany would reach his friend. Hopefully sooner than later. If someone like Dazai was interested in someone simple like you then you could positively influence the man who had experienced nothing but violence, death and bloodshed for a majority of his life. "You should go, then. It's painfully obvious you want to see her."

"Are you sure?" Dazai asked, eyebrows pulled up in slight surprise. It didn't happen too often that he got to talk to Odasaku so freely without any prying eyes and judgment whispered behind their backs. In this bar, they were only Dazai and Odasaku. Not an executive of the mafia and a mafia member with the possibly lowest rank in the organization. "Why wouldn't I be sure? I can handle going home alone just fine."

There was no point in trying to argue with Odasaku. The man was awfully perceptive and aware of those around him and would probably drag Dazai out of the bar if it was in Oda's nature to do such things. Besides, Odasaku was always correct, right?

"Then I guess I'll see you around, Odasaku." Dazai wrapped his pitch black coat around his slender form and left with a gentle wave of his bandaged hand. Oda merely made a noise of acknowledgement.

He knew that one positive influence couldn't fix the trauma that Dazai had gone through, but love made man better, right? Deep down, Odasaku hoped that you would leave some kind of impact on his misguided friend, hoped that at least you could show him a bit of the light Dazai was so severely lacking.

He hoped that life would be kind to Dazai for once.

This time, Dazai was greeted by orchestral instruments put over a simple, consistent beat. No vocals accompanied the song, only the repeated words "save me, save me" echoing throughout the very lonely and cold hall. Yet, your mere presence seemed to fill the theater just fine.

He noticed you wore shoes unlike last night. Your dancing style was also slightly different. It lacked the element of ballet, yet he found himself watching you all the same.

How you kicked your leg out to the side, wiped your lips and for a moment, it seemed like you were getting ready to run only to pretend to slip. Skillfully, your hands caught your body before you rested on your back, hand reaching up in the air as if begging someone to save you from misery. The notes gently faded into nothing and found their end.

"And here I thought this was a one time meeting, Dazai." You teased from your position on the ground, rolled your body up into a sitting position and gave the man a teasing yet welcoming smile. A few strands of hair stuck to your face, some stood in weird directions, yet Dazai would still describe you as lovely. Sitting down on the chair he occupied the last time, Dazai returned the friendly teasing. "I like to make sure I see pretty things several times."

Damn smooth talker. Oh, how you'd love to wipe that cocky smirk off Dazai's stupidly handsome face. Damn him for making you blush so easily when his words weren't even that special. "Whatever you say." You dusted off your pants, let a few joints crack and tilted your head to the side as you took in Dazai's form.

The cold had bitten his cheeks red, a trail of goosebumps between the bandages around his neck and his jawline revealed itself to your eyes, he was shivering ever so slightly despite the coat clinging to his body. You couldn't blame Dazai - it was probably -10 degrees Celsius outside, some snow had frozen and the theater wasn't known to get heated up at night. Truth be told, you had also been shivering when you came in, but then..

Suddenly, your eyes widened in curiosity. "You're cold aren't you?" Dazai nodded his head slightly, not quite knowing where you were going with this. Of course, he was cold. What kind of question was that? Going to the very edge of the stage, you offered Dazai your hand and grinned from ear to ear with that silly blush still on your cheeks. "May I ask for this dance, dear sir?"

Warily, Dazai's gaze flickered from your palm to your face, his reaction hesitant. "Oh, belladonna, you do know that I'm not the dancer here, do you?" He just wasn't the type to dance, wasn't interested in the art either. Dazai only knew a few basic steps that Kouyou taught him years ago, but he barely ever had to use his non-existent dancing skills. "Aw, come on~" A cute pout adorned your lips as you tried persuading the mafia executive with puppy eyes and hopefully arguments that would convince him. "I'll teach you something really easy. I promise it'll be fun!"

Dramatically, Dazai threw his head back and covered his eyes with his palm, his loud voice easily filling the vast space. "How did you know that your mere beauty was my weakness? Truly, my only weak spot is standing right in front of me! How could I say no to a beautiful lady such as yourself?" At his antics, you couldn't help but roll your eyes, grab Dazai's hands and pull him on the stage with you. You noticed how calloused his hands were and wondered what his profession was since the rest of him seemed nearly dreamy. The more you thought about it, the more you could feel a headache approaching, though.

"First, off with that coat. You're gonna get warm real quick." Contrary to what your words implied, you took the coat off for Dazai and tossed the article of clothing in a corner where it wouldn't get in the way. Another thing Dazai learned about you was that you were touchy - not that he mined. He loved touchy, pretty ladies. But you..you nearly made his heart skip a beat with how eager you were to dance with him. "I didn't know you were so keen on getting me out of my clothes, belladonna."

Maybe the day you'd smack Dazai's face would come sooner than you thought. "Pfft, you wish, don't you?" Laughing, you shook your head a few times and picked your phone up from the ground to choose a song. What song would suit the situation or even Dazai's persona? He sure liked to joke around, yet his attire told you that he worked in a serious field. "I wouldn't mind~" Dazai spoke in a sing-song voice, hell bent on teasing your for whatever reason. However, it was part of his charm, you concluded for yourself.

In the end, you settled for a song played by only a piano. The mood was neither too sad nor too upbeat - it was a perfect mix of a tinge of sadness and the beauty of emotional clarity.

Dazai let you hold one of his hands while the other rested on your back, your free hand placed on his shoulder as you gave him instructions. "Take one step forward. Then I'll follow by taking a step backwards." His foot was quick to be placed between yours, chocolate eyes finding the two pairs of feet rather interesting. Dazai simply didn't want to step on your feet. Yet. "Good. Now one step to the right and a step backwards."

Dazai did as he was told and came back to center with you in his arms, leading him around the stage. Moving like this with the peaceful music in the background and your laughter right in his ear, some sort of warmth started spreading from Dazai's core and filled every fiber of his being with each step he took. Or maybe it was just the happiness swimming in your eyes. "See? It's not that hard. Do it again, but a bit faster." You encouraged the inexperienced brunette, grasping his hand tightly in yours. Dazai, on the other hand, felt oddly vulnerable as you lead him, taught him something he usually never used. It was a skill Dazai didn't possess, yet he found comfort in the fact that it was you taking the lead, dancing him through the steps his body had long since forgotten.

As time passed, Dazai gained security and picked up the speed until you told him that this was the perfect pace. At some point, your palm slid down his chest, the man's own palm coming to rest in the dip of your waist. Neither of you seemed to notice nor to care. Possibly, Dazai even dared to pull you closer, although he knew he shouldn't. Getting attached was a dangerous game, especially in his case. If Mori was to find out who Dazai found himself gravitating toward, he'd lose you. If the enemy was to know of your existence, he'd lose you.

Everything he'd never want to lose, would eventually slip through his fingers like water.

But there you were, in the blood-stained hands of a mafia executive, a content smile on your face and your heart beating in sync with Dazai's. The act of dancing with you was pure, probably the most common and innocent thing he had ever done, yet Dazai felt like it was wrong.

You were an angel, giving herself to the demon himself.

Yet, why did it feel so right?

"See? You're much warmer now." You beamed up at Dazai, eyes closed and he knew that this view would haunt him in his sleep. He should've stayed at the bar with Odasaku, drank a bit and then call it a night, but no, Dazai had to be selfish, greedy even, to come see you again when you were nothing but a stranger. Why the hell did you make him feel welcomed like he belonged right here with you? Dazai wasn't part of your blissfully mundane life and if you knew how many crimes he had committed, you'd let go of him like you had just burned yourself. And maybe, you actually would end up scorching yourself if you kept touching him, being near him.

"Yeah. It's your hard work though." Despite the emotional conflict raging on in Dazai's heart, he returned the smile you gave him, but it never quite reached his eyes. If you noticed, you didn't bother asking which the brunette was thankful for. How was he supposed to explain something he didn't quite understand himself just yet? "I argue we both worked hard." You gave his hand a squeeze. A gentle reminder that you were indeed there and not anywhere else.

Eventually, hours blurred into one another and Dazai was back in his seat with you sitting next to him, talking about the one time you thought your toaster was broken, but you only forgot to plug the device into the socket. You were silly and clumsy, too, Dazai learned.

"Oh, time flies, huh.." You looked at the watch wrapped around your wrist and sighed, the hint of a frown settling down on your face. The time read 4:53 am, the sky was still pitch black - definitely a downside to winter. A groan of annoyance rumbled deep within your chest, your head leaned back and eyes closed shut as you voiced out your frustration. "Why can't time go by a bit slower? I was really enjoying myself, too. Being here with you is better than going home."

"Oh? How so?" Dazai didn't expect you to be so open about your way of living, considering that he had met you not too long ago. But he did hear about some people who overshare personal feelings and issues, so were you a part of those people? Or did your trust already run so deep? "You see, I live on my own and it just gets..very lonely. It's almost depressing when there's no one to greet you, nothing to take care of. Agh, I said too much didn't I?" Maybe this was why your friends sometimes told you to shut up at a certain point. You rubbed the back of your head sheepishly, chuckling. "It's okay, don't worry."

But maybe that piece of information was what caused Dazai to offer to walk you home even though you only lived a 8-minute-walk away from the theater.

Or maybe it was the fact that the sun wouldn't rise until 8 am.

Whatever reason it was, you felt less lonely when you stepped foot into your home.

The meetings continued.

Dazai would occasionally pop up during your practice in the dead of night, after a drink with Odasaku or because he was simply straying throughout Yokohama's streets like a lost dog. You had quickly learned of Dazai's suicidal tendencies, even scolded him whenever the brunette enthusiastically told you about a new suicide technique he had read about. Usually, those around Dazai didn't care about that, because it was normal and he would always show up the next day in one piece, overdramatically devastated that he was still very much alive.

"Why are you so worried about a stranger's life?" Dazai had asked with a teasing tone lingering on the edge of his voice. He didn't expect a serious answer, didn't expect a response which he couldn't decode right off the bat. "Then who would I be dancing for?" A tinge of blue had colored your words; the color of the ocean. Beautiful to look at, but so unbelievably deep that one could drown in them if they weren't careful. It had left Dazai a tad bit confused; apparently, you had danced just fine without him as well, so why were you so worried about something as trivial as an audience now? Nevertheless, he had smiled - it was a gentle one.

"I'm sure you would find another audience."

"But none of them are you."

He had felt special and maybe it was delusional of him, but the more time Dazai spent with you, the more he wanted you for himself. No one else should hear your laugh for they might ruin the sound. No one else should be on the receiving end of your teasing for they might corrupt you. No one else should see you dance for Dazai liked to pretend that you only moved for him and his selfish eyes.

But that was wishful thinking. Just like writers needed readers, just like musicians needed listeners, a dancer needed an audience to gain energy from, an audience to perform for. Dazai knew he couldn't remain your only crowd forever.

The worst of it all that Dazai did get attached to you. Attached to your clumsiness when you tripped on stage and lied that it was part of the choreography. Attached to the way you'd grin from ear to ear once your eyes spotted him sitting in his usual seat. But most of all, he got attached to your kindness. You always offered him something to drink or some of your snacks, offered to distract him from whatever was bothering Dazai some nights.

You offered him some peace and quiet, physically, mentally and emotionally.

However, the more time Dazai spent with you, the more his premonition proved to be true.

You ended up haunting his dreams like a ghost and twisted them into nightmares that he often had, but it was even worse now that you had stepped into his life. It was your fault for ruining his already morbid nightmares by popping up in them out of the blue. Each time Dazai dreamed about shooting someone, your hand would hold his wrist to stop him. Each time he dreamed about a new suicide technique, you'd cry out his name in the ugliest way with tears streaming down your cheeks and a painful strain tearing your vocal chords.

But this night was so much worse.

"Dazai, we need your help in our current interrogation. The prisoner won't spill, no matter what." A buff man in a suit and shades resting on his nose deadpanned. With a sigh, Dazai put both of his hands on his desk and got up from the comfortable chair, silently wondering if his men were capable of fulfilling a simple mission, at all. He didn't know the details, busy with his own case and trying to come up with a new way to finally get rid of this life he never wanted.

Empty footsteps echoed right through the cold hallways of the mafia, no word was spoken, no breath could be heard. It was a heartless place which had witnessed the deaths of so many souls that it could be the equivalent of a graveyard. The amount of bloodshed was gross, but necessary in order for the mafia to survive.

As the heavy door made of pure metal opened, Dazai's eyes widened. He would recognize the person anywhere, no matter how big the crowd was. Cautiously, he approached your shaking form and kneeled down in front of your broken body. Deep bruises in various shades ruined your skin, no doubt you were suffering from a couple of broken bones as well. Upon a closer look, Dazai could see that you definitely lost weight as well.

Dead eyes met his own, the withering shimmer of recognition floated in your orbs before it rotted away. "Please, kill me, Dazai." Your voice was weak, hoarse from the lack of hydration and screams you let out as the men in black tried to get information out of you. "What the hell are you talking about?" Grabbing your shoulders, Dazai put you into a sitting position and let your chin rest on his shoulders. You were broken beyond repair and it was his fault that you got caught in this mess, in his mess.

"Everything hurts. I'm in nothing but pain, anymore. Please, I'm begging you to take my life." Tears streamed down your cheeks at the mere thought of leaving this world behind. Death terrified you, you didn't know if anything was waiting for you on the other side or if your existence would simply vanish like someone had pressed the delete button. "Don't be stupid, I can get you out of here, I can-" Dazai was rambling and it was the first time you saw him lose his composure. "It would be an honor to die by your hands, Osamu."

Somewhere deep down, Dazai knew he couldn't get you out of this alive. The mafia would kill you. You'd seen their faces, knew where these creatures of the night operated from. Too high was the possibility of you running to the government and spilling all that valuable information.

Too high was the possibility of his men letting you die a painful death when Dazai could give you a fast, painless way out.

"I'm sorry." Dazai whispered in your ear, his lips tickled the shell of it and you basked in the gentle feeling for a moment. It was a luxury you wouldn't get to experience, again. A wistful smile settled down on your lips, your eyes closed. You were at peace. "It's okay, Osamu. I'll watch over you from the other side. But for now, this is goodbye."

Dazai's hands shook as he placed the muzzle of his gun right against your chest where your heart was peacefully beating. Why did he have to kill the one person he was attached to? One of the very little good things he ever had in life would slip through his fingers, no matter how desperately he'd reach out for you. Dazai took a deep breath - a futile attempt to keep his composure - and pulled the trigger.

You immediately went limp in his arms, blood staining the white dress you wore and his own clothes too. The executive dropped the gun, held your corpse tightly in his arms and buried his face in the crook of your neck. He was glad no one was there to see him cry and sob into your hair. No one would ever see the way he held you for an hour, the way he grew terrified of how your body temperature dropped.

No one would ever see the pure feelings he had towards you.

"Goodbye, [Name]."

Dazai woke up in a cold sweat, spine as straight as a candle while his mind was slowly realizing that this was nothing but a nightmare. A bad one, too. "Crap.." The executive rubbed the side of his head, his heart still pounding in his rib cage from the vision that had just haunted him. He hated how you tormented his mind and occupied it like it was your own pretty place. You should at least pay some rent.

Checking the time on his phone, the numbers 02:13 am greeted him. At that time, you were normally still practicing, pushing yourself past your limits until you were so worn out that all you could do was lie on the cool ground, panting. Dazai threw the blanket away a little harder than needed, grabbed a pair of pants and a button down shirt. He needed to make sure you were still alive, he seeked your presence.

Maybe you could tend to the foreign panic he felt.

A strong wave of relief and comfort washed over Dazai as he saw you on the stage and the song found its end. His heart no longer beat erratically in his chest, but gradually calmed down. Slumping down in his usual seat, Dazai realized one thing.

He was scared of losing you.

And judging by the way you stopped everything and ran off the stage to sit down right next to him, you were worried about him, too. Ah, how nice it was to feel your hand cup his cold cheek, the pad of your caressing the skin right underneath Dazai's eyes. He had grown used to your touchy-ness and right now, it was very welcomed. A confirmation that you were very much real and alive unlike in the nightmare you'd unknowingly put him through.

"Everything okay?" Carefully, you asked as Dazai didn't mumble a single word and let himself being touched without much of a comment that served the mere purpose to make you blush. The suicidal brunette you grew fond of snapped out of whatever thought he was stuck in, his head whipping towards you. Worry was laced in your eyes and while Dazai definitely expected the devastating look you gave him, it pierced right through a sensitive spot of his. It was weird.

"Do you think there's a difference between good and evil?" It was an unusually deep question which Dazai had never asked you before. Normally, he asked you for silly favors like choking him to death or using your high kick to break his neck. You blinked once, twice.

Then you realized that this was Dazai being in a vulnerable state.

A heavy moment of silence filled the air around you and weighed heavily on your slim shoulders, words got stuck in your throat. School, family and society would say yes to that question, but the more you thought about it, the more you realized that maybe it was a matter of circumstances, interpretation and one's own morals.

With a huff escaping your lips, you sat back in your seat and stared at the empty stage. The one you wanted to perform on with the hall being sold out, one day. "Maybe there isn't that much of a difference, depending on how you look at it," you started and caught Dazai's attention. He had long since figured that you were capable of thinking and feeling for your own, but he wasn't sure if he expected such a response from a citizen. "If two nations are at war and a man kills someone from the opposing country to protect someone close to him and the same happens vice versa, then who is good and who is evil?" Eyes fluttering shut, you tapped your temple with your index and middle finger, Dazai's own eyes always set on you.

"Then there's also Yin and Yang. A bad seed lies in every good thing, a good seed lies in every bad thing," your gaze flew to the wall high above you, the dim lighting of the theater emphasized the tender structure of your jaw, the light in your eyes and the delicate curve of your neck. "So maybe good and bad are a curious mix of one another and aren't that different from one another."

Gradually, the light returned to Dazai's eyes and dipped them into the rich, chocolate brown color you liked so much. The curve on his lips was tender, the ghost of a smile but it was genuine and came from somewhere deep within his heart. You didn't know where this sudden, fond look came from, but you knew you never wanted it to disappear. "Do you have a camera with you?" Thrown off by his sudden question, you could only nod. "Uh yeah, why?"

"I want to take a picture of us." Because he feared he might lose you for real.

Without prodding any more, you dug around in your bag for the black device and came back with the camera in your hands, a smile on your face. "Well then, let's take a fancy picture." You positioned the camera on one of the empty seats. Dazai casually leaned his weight against the stage while you sat on the edge, feet dangling in the air and your arms wrapped around his shoulders to pull the man closer. A tranquil expression was on Dazai's face as you did so and said "cheese!".

The picture ended up in the pocket of his trench coat, reminding him that he had a bit of light in his life.

Lady luck certainly wasn't on your side this snowy day since she thought it was really funny to let your tyre drive over some sharp shards of glass. Swerving ever so slightly, you pulled up at a parking lot at an unfamiliar restaurant which was close to the frozen pier. "At least I didn't strand in the middle of nowhere." You huffed and tightly wrapped a scarf around your neck until the warm fabric covered about half of your face. It was a short walk from your car to the restaurant, but there was no way in hell you'd let the cold sink deeper into your bones than necessary.

Once the engine died down, you got out of your car and entered the small restaurant which was visited by only one man. Red hair, blue eyes and a pleasant voice as he chatted away with who you assumed was the cook and boss of this place. Tugging off your gloves, the scarf soon followed and was placed on the empty stool next to you; at least it was comfortable.

"Excuse me?" You politely interrupted the conversation between the two men and caught their attention. "My car died and I wondered if I could use someone's phone to get it towed away." The chubby cook was quick to respond as he handed you his old Nokia which was safely stored in the back pocket of his jeans. You thanked the man, glad that someone was willing to help and called the nearest auto repair shop. Ultimately, you didn't have any tyres in your trunk since you rarely drove. Oh, what a stupid decision that was.

After a small phone call and receiving the information that it would certainly take some time to get to your car, you decided to at least order some food and a glass of water. It was the least you could do after the owner was kind enough to lend you his phone for approximately five minutes.

While you were obviously enjoying your food, Odasaku couldn't help but wonder how high the probability of meeting you was.

At first, he thought his eyes were deceiving him, but there you were, sitting a few stools away to keep a decent distance from the stranger who was Dazai's best and only friend. The description Dazai had given Oda was definitely more than accurate and not an exaggeration on his friend's part: the hair, eyes, height and way of dressing up matched Dazai's words all too well. Ah, what did the brunette say about you once? Right, it was like you demanded everyone's attention as soon as you stepped in the room, but in a very positive way. It was simply the aura you gave off.

Odasaku had seen the picture, too. You were definitely the woman who had hugged Dazai in the picture, beaming into the lens like no one else was watching.

"It's pretty cold, isn't it?" To Oda's surprise, it was you who actually struck up a conversation out of the blue. You wiped the small heap of snowflakes from your head, some of the melted snow had already dampened your hair and clothes. "You know Dazai, don't you?" Odasaku changed the topic, curious about what you thought of his dear friend, what your feelings were and if you had any concealed intentions. Admittedly, it was impudent of him to question your aim when Odasaku only knew you from words.

Eyes wide, you blinked in slight confusion before it clicked. "Yes, I do. Are you..by any chance Odasaku?" You had heard about Dazai's friends from some of his stories that either included a bar named Lupin or his job which the brunette still hadn't revealed. Well, it wasn't like it was any of your business, anyway. "I see he has already talked about me, huh? Only good things, I hope." Oda pretty much deadpanned and you couldn't help the laugh bubbling in the back of your throat at how serious he sounded - just like Dazai said. "Of course I heard only good things about you! Don't worry about it."

In-between a quick introduction and a few bites of the pasta you had ordered, you heard the question:"What do you think about Dazai?" Warmth was quick to dip the apple of your cheeks in a reddish color as your brain thought of an appropriate answer and how far you could go. Sure, this man was Dazai's best friend, but in the end, Odasaku was still a stranger to you. "What I think of him?" You repeated more to yourself than to Oda and suddenly got..shy. Odasaku nodded wordlessly.

"Dazai is an interesting person. It's hard to tell what he's thinking or feeling, yet being with him is fairly easy. Strikes me as someone who's definitely popular with the ladies and knows it, but he seems like a good guy, regardless. Pretty funny, too." For a moment your pursed your lips, fork poking around in your beloved pasta as you possibly shared too much, yet again. "I really like him, I guess.." Oda found no lie in your body language, in the way you talked or reacted when he asked you about the suicidal brunette. However, maybe you liked the mafia executive more than you realized or wanted to admit, Oda silently thought to himself.

"I might be sticking my nose into things where it's not wanted, but you definitely caught Dazai's interest." Oda paid for his own food, the cook mumbling something about him not having to do it, but accepting the money, nevertheless. "Huh?" Did your ears betray you or did Dazai's best friend, the infamous Odasaku who the younger man looked up to so much, tell you that Dazai was indeed intrigued? Maybe, you should get your ears checked, soon. Just to be sure.

"If you weren't interesting, Dazai wouldn't visit you. He's not much of a dancer and even less interested in it. But you seem to have caught him in a way."

With those words being said, Odasaku bid his farewell to the cook and you who was still processing his words and contemplating how much weight to give that revelation. Sure, Dazai had told you several days ago that he wasn't a dancer, but you couldn't really figure out why he insisted on still visiting you.

For the rest of the day, your heart beat a little bit faster than it was supposed to and this time, you were aware of the reason why.

Your encounter with Oda should've kept your spirits high, but that wasn't the case unfortunately. This night was void of any stars, thick, dark clouds even hid the moon that was usually watching you akin to a certain brunette.

But just like the moon, he didn't show up.

As always, just like every night, you stretched and practiced in the empty theater. The more time progressed, the more you seemed to mess up and feed into your own disappointment which quickly turned into impatience mixed with frustration. It seemed like your legs had a mind of their own and refused to listen to you while your muscles were getting sore from the strenuous training you forced them through.

You kept tripping over your own feet, painfully fell to your knees and sometimes managed to cushion the fall by dropping on your arms rather than your ribs. The soles of your feet ached, screaming at you to rest while a stifling soreness stretched itself throughout your muscles. But no, you couldn't stop. Not yet. Not when you were so close to perfecting the choreography, not when you were so close to feeling satisfied with the outcome. All you needed was more practice.

Sweat drenched your shirt and made your feet stick to the wooden floor in a disgusting way. But it would be worth it. The pain would pain off. You hoped.

Stretching your arm out, you felt the pain in your shoulder, but you gave it your all nevertheless. As soon as you stood on one leg, the limb gave out below you and ruthlessly let another bruise bloom on your kneecaps. Red, blue, purple, green and yellow stained your knees. A pained groan strained your throat as you picked yourself back up again, palms red from the amount of times you had done so. It was a painful process, but you needed it. Feeling that pain was so much better than feeling the distress of the impending death as a dancer, again.

Why couldn't you get that one move right? It was supposed to be easy and yet, you always failed over and over again. "Fuck.." You cussed underneath your heavy breath and wiped a few tears away. This was no time to cry over trivial things. The only reason why you picked up dancing again was to feel something. You had already died once and gosh was that painful. Oh, how you vowed to never die, again.

Once more. Taking a deep breath to keep your composure under control, you kept your arms straight by your side and put your weight on your dominant leg. You were in the middle of pivoting with your chest nearly touching your upper thighs when you lost your balance and fell to your knees and elbows. This time, tears flowed, the music kept going without you.

"To hell with it!" You yelled, threw your shoes against the wall in anger, frustration even and slid down the length of the wall. Heavy sobs rocked your body and you forgot that the vast space left an ugly echo of the disappointment you let out freely. At least, you were alone with no one to see you in such a weak moment. No one would see your tears and attempt to wipe them away. No one would tell you to cheer up and whisper sweet encouragements into your ear.

All you needed was to let it out.

It took you a while to calm down and find the bathroom of the theater. As you looked into the mirror, you were met with bloodshot eyes, messy hair and sticky clothes. Gazing downwards, you saw just how red your palms were and spotted a few cuts from mean splinters. Worn out, you rolled up the sleeves of your shirt and cringed at your bloody elbows, the red liquid was nearly dry and crusted around more severe bits. Just what you needed, really.

A sigh slipped your dry lips as cold water hit your hands, the temperature somewhat soothed the ache and calmed you down until you saw how the water turned red. "No, no, no, no!" You called out, eyes brimming with new tears you didn't know you still possessed as you scrubbed your hands, forearms and elbows furiously. The minor wounds reopened, causing fresh blood to leak from the broken skin and stain the sink in an hideous crimson.

That night, you scrubbed until it hurt.

No song resonated with you.

A few nights had passed when Dazai stepped foot into the theater once again and was welcomed by the sophisticated shadow your silhouette painted on the vast wall like the finest of paintings. Compared to the shadow, you were so bright and oh-so-short. He liked the contrast.

Silently to not disturb the flow you seemed to be in, Dazai took his seat as always and let his eyes drink in of the passionate smooth image that was you. The executive wondered just how much strength you had to possess in order to quickly switch from sleek moves to sharp ones that made your legs and chest pop. He wondered how many restless nights you had spent dancing in your room, on your own with no one to watch. He wondered why you still danced, although it seemed to be such an exhausting process.

All these questions were answered as Dazai merely watched you. The way you got lost in the lovely melody of the piano which was akin to a day in spring and spun on stage with your hands resting right above your heart, a happy grin on your face - that was the answer. Dance was something you were good at and found joy in.

Dazai was drawn to the way your shoes squeaked against the wooden floor, how your ripped jeans hugged your legs and the adorably oversized sweater. Everything was so you that Dazai found familiarity in your presence, peace and a bit of warmth which every human so selfishly craved for.

"It's good to see you, again." You squatted on the stage, arms hugging your shins closer to your body and as the holes in your jeans stretched, Dazai immediately noticed the nasty bruises on your knees. Seeing these stains for the first time, he wondered how hard how hard you had pushed yourself to look like you had fallen into a bucket of paint. How often had you fallen and still continued although it hurt? No doubt that the bruises still hurt at this moment, but when Dazai's eyes fell on your face, he saw nothing of the hell you had put yourself through. The smile on your reddish lips was tender, your eyes twinkled in the dim lighting and you welcomed him like he was your dear friend.

You never complained about the bruises on your knees.

"This sounds like you missed me, [Name]." In all honesty, a small, soft part within the brunette hoped you had missed him just like you had occupied his thoughts during his own work. For once, Dazai wanted to be missed by you, even though he had been gone for less five days. Your legs dangled off the edge of the stage, palms behind your back and supporting your weight as you nodded your head slightly. "Honestly? I did. It's not the same when you're absent, Dazai."

The mafia executive came to stand between your legs, bandaged hands resting on your hips and your doe eyes looking up at him in anticipation. His heart was so easily swayed by you and lord punish him if he would ever do anything to hurt you. "You meant what you said, didn't you? About not being able to find another audience." Ah, how were you supposed to respond? This was the first time Dazai got so close to you, touched you and it felt oddly intimate how he spoke, how he looked at you. Your heart pounded in your ribcage. "I always mean what I say, Osamu. None of them would be you."

Dazai was nearly cautious when he tucked a few strands of your hair behind your ear as if you were to break if he was too rough with you. He so badly wanted to deny himself of you, of your presence and the mere thought of you, but humans were sinful beings who always wanted the one thing they could break, taint and corrupt. When had you made Dazai so weak for you? A foreign emotion which Dazai experienced for the possibly very first time in his lonely life and he didn't want to let go of it. Rather, he wanted to protect and treasure it in fear it'd break. But what if Dazai himself was the one to shatter whatever was going on between you and him?

Unconsciously, Dazai cupped your cheek in his hand and caressed the skin underneath your eye - much like you had done when the man had searched for you after the nightmare he surely wouldn't forget so easily. Maybe, Dazai wanted to caress all your bruises and wounds away. "Really? I reckon you'd find an audience of much greater size." His voice was barely above a whisper while you leaned into his touch, blushing. Slender fingers tugged on Dazai's tie until the tip of your nose poked his own, your warm breath fanning over his cheeks. "If I could choose between a crowd and you, I'd always choose you, Osamu."

Dazai's lips hesitantly brushed over yours, it was like the touch of a ghost to see how you'd react and you never shied away. Instead, you took matters into your own hands and pressed your lips to Dazai's, gently at first.

After getting over his initial shock, the executive let his eyes flutter shut while his hand now cupped the nape of your neck, thumb still on your cheek as Dazai let his lips melt into yours. It was a sweet kiss shared between two people who weren't familiar with the concept of loving someone else, but the act felt so awfully right; like one had finally found a long lost piece of a puzzle and could finally finish the picture.

You smiled once the kiss was broken, but Dazai was quick to chase your lips and engage you in another lip lock. This time, it was firm and you let your lips melt into Dazai's with your palms on his chest to feel his heartbeat. Ah, it was just starting to calm down, you noted and smiled into the innocent kiss.

You felt warm all over.

"Let me watch you dance one more time."

Your response came in the form of a simple nod.

And so, Dazai sat on down on the stage and watched you spin or fall into a half-split to your heart's content. He had no interest in dance, but he was interested in you.

Hopefully, he would get the chance to see you during the day, as well.

But that wish wouldn't be granted until four years later, because Odasaku died.

Spring rolled around and cherry blossoms bloomed throughout the lively streets of Yokohama. Children's laughter filled the playgrounds with some much needed life, the sun smiled down at the city while the salty breeze of the shore cooled everyone down once in a while.

But the most important thing: The agency was as energetic as ever with Kunikida scolding Dazai for having tried to woo the waitress at Uzumaki's in an inappropriate manner. Something about needing her hands around his neck or something like that. Atsushi watched his superiors in shock and mild confusion as the scene continued. "Ah, right, I can't waste any more time on you. A client is on the way." The blonde detective brushed his palms off on his pants as though Dazai had dirtied them just by breathing.

"Whaaat? But that means more work and even more reports!" Dazai complained and dramatically palmed his face, head leaned back to the ceiling as he dreaded the new amount of work a new client brought. Despite the brunette's constant complaints, Dazai still finished whatever was expected of him; it was Odasaku's wish he was currently living. "Quit complaining and make yourself look acceptable. You look like you just got choked." Kunikida scolded after having choked Dazai himself.

The opening of a door went unheard as the two detectives kept arguing back and forth and was only interrupted by Atsushi greeting the client as politely as he could. He was told not to ruin the Agency's name and Atsushi was sure that Kunikida would drag him through hell and back himself if he was to mess up. "Welcome! You must be Ms. [Name], right?" Atsushi hoped you'd ignore the mess happening in the background.

"Exactly. There's an issue and.." Gradually, you trailed off as you raised your gaze, let yourself take in the office until they landed on him. The man you thought had died due to his suicidal tendencies stood right in front of you among his colleagues. The man you had grown so deeply attached to was very much alive and still looked the same, though he had grown and matured a bit. Overall, his entire energy seemed to be a tad bit brighter.

Your muscles froze, hands shaking as your eyes widened and silent tears rolled down your cheeks. Dazai seemed just as shocked; his gaze was deeply locked with your teary one as he too recognized you. How couldn't he recognize you? You were the first person to soothe the pain he felt even if it was only for a couple of hours. Dazai still carried the picture around.

"U-uhm.." Atsushi was about to ask what was going on, but Kunikida stopped the rookie by putting a hand on his shoulder and leading him away from the scene. Kunikida didn't know the deal between Dazai and you, but he did know that you two obviously needed to talk about it without anyone interrupting. "Don't. You can ask him later."

"It's you Osamu, isn't it?" Hastily, you wiped your tears away once the shock wore off. How often did you wait for Dazai to come through the doors of the theater with an unreadable expression on his face? How often had you simply sat in the vast hall with Sensei in your lap instead of dancing? How often had you cried thinking that Dazai succeeded in taking his own life? "It's been a while, hasn't it, [Name]?" Dazai's expression softened upon seeing you again, although he was also scared. He never thought anyone from his past would see him ever again, and yet there you were.

"Would you let me explain?"

You should be angry at Dazai for leaving you behind just like that, but a bigger part of you was so relieved to see the brunette still breathing, standing in front of you with that same damn look lingering in the depths of his eyes. "You'd better." Dazai offered you his hand to take, hoping to take some of your anxiety and maybe some of his own fears, too.

Luckily, Dazai found out you were still dancing.

That night, he watched you once again and never stopped watching you.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #bsd x reader #fic: swan song

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aboveallarescuer · 4 years

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GRRM interviews about (or mentioning) Dany - Part 1

I went to So Spake Martin and collected excerpts of GRRM's interviews that talked about Dany in some way. Some observations here:

I didn't have access to broken/unavailable links or newspapers that require subscription.

I didn't get video or podcast interviews, only ones that were written down.

I also added some excerpts about how he enjoys grey characters or how he wants to be "realistic" and other topics that may relate ... not necessarily to Dany's character, but to his writing in general. It may be useful for some metas, even if they should not be divorced from the actual text.

I didn't mind collecting interviews about the same topic.

Maybe I did a poor job collecting these interviews or the SSM is incomplete, but, in any case, there are still several key interviews missing; I couldn't find the ones about how GRRM relates to Dany's character or how he wishes the Targaryens were black, for instance.

Even with these limitations in mind, there is still quite a bit to dig into here.

November 1998

The Targaryens have heavily interbred, like the Ptolemys of Egypt. As any horse or dog breeder can tell you, interbreeding accentuates both flaws and virtues, and pushes a lineage toward the extremes. Also, there's sometimes a fine line between madness and greatness. Daeron I, the boy king who led a war of conquest, and even the saintly Baelor I could also be considered "mad," if seen in a different light. ((And I must confess, I love grey characters, and those who can be interperted in many different ways. Both as a reader and a writer, I want complexity and subtlety in my fiction))

December 1998

Was it a conscious decision to paint things in grey, killing off good guys, etc.

Definitely a conscious decision. Both as a reader and a writer, I prefer my plots to be unpredictable and my characters to be painted in shades of grey, rather than in blacks and whites.

July 1999

Just out of being curious how a writer goes about his work -- do you generally write a certain POVs chapters in batches? Or are Dany's chapters, given how generally unconnected they are to the rest of the books as she goes along her own plot thread, easier to do that way? I suppose the momentum can help with a tough character.

Yes, I generally get in a groove on a particular character and write several chapters or chunks of chapters at once, before hitting a wall. When I do hit a wall, I switch to another character. Some characters are easier to write and some harder, however. Dany and Bran have always been toughest, maybe because they are heaviest on the magical elements... also, Bran is the youngest of POV kids, and very restricted as well because of his legs. At the other end of the spectrum, the Tyrion chapters often seem to write themselves. The same was true for Ned.

Jon was not born "more than 1 year" before Dany... probably closer to eight or nine months or thereabouts.

November 1999

Also, just how much impact did the Rhoynar have on the modern customs of Dorne? Beyond the gender-blind inheritance laws, the couple of Rhoynish gods that smallfolk might have turned into saints or angelic-type beings, and perhaps the round shields, that is. In particular, given that Nymeria was a warrior-queen, is there a certain amazon tradition?

The Rhoynar did impact Dorne in a number of ways, some of which will be revealed in later books. Women definitely have more rights in Dorne, but I would not call it an "Amazon" tradition, necessarily. Nymeria had more in common with someone like Daenerys or Joan d'Arc than with Brienne or Xena the Warrior Princess.

September 2000

It has been my intention from the start to gradually bring up the amount of magic in each successive volume of A Song of Ice and Fire, and that will continue. I will not rule out the possibility of a certain amount of "behind the scenes" magic, either. But while sorcerous events may impact on my characters, as with Renly or Lord Beric or Dany, their choices must ultimately remain their own.

November 2000

This third Targaryen might very well be -not- a Targaryen, to quote his exact words... "Three heads of the dragon... yes... but the third will not nessesarily BE a Targaryen..."

He mentioned his frustration that Tranter books don't have maps since Tranter tends to describe journeys using ALL the available landmarks (I also stupidly complained about there not being a map of the landmass Dany's on in the books, and he VERY politely pointed out to me that there was one in SoS [O the shame!]).

December 2000

NG: A Song of Ice and Fire undergoes a very interesting progression over its first three volumes, from a relatively clear scenario of Good (the Starks) fighting Evil (the Lannisters) to a much more ambiguous one, in which the Lannisters are much better understood, and moral certainties are less easily attainable. Are you deliberately defying the conventions and assumptions of neo-Tolkienian Fantasy here?

GRRM: Guilty as charged.

The battle between good and evil is a legitimate theme for a Fantasy (or for any work of fiction, for that matter), but in real life that battle is fought chiefly in the individual human heart. Too many contemporary Fantasies take the easy way out by externalizing the struggle, so the heroic protagonists need only smite the evil minions of the dark power to win the day. And you can tell the evil minions, because they're inevitably ugly and they all wear black.

I wanted to stand much of that on its head.

In real life, the hardest aspect of the battle between good and evil is determining which is which.

NG: You've frequently expressed admiration for Jack Vance. How Vancean is A Song of Ice and Fire in conception and style? In particular, does the narrative thread featuring the exotic wanderings of Daenerys Targaryen function in part as a tribute to Vance, to his picaresque inventiveness?

GRRM: Jack Vance is the greatest living SF writer, in my opinion, and one of the few who is also a master of Fantasy. His The Dying Earth (1950) was one of the seminal books in the history of modern Fantasy, and I would rank him right up there with Tolkien, Dunsany, Leiber, and T.H. White as one of the fathers of the genre.

All that being said, I don't think A Song of Ice and Fire is particularly Vancean. Vance has his voice and I have mine. I couldn't write like Vance even if I tried... and I did try, once. The first Haviland Tuf story, "A Beast for Norn," was my attempt to capture some of Vance's effects, and Tuf is a very Vancean hero, a distant cousin to Magnus Ridolph, perhaps. But what that experiment taught me was that only Jack Vance can write like Jack Vance

NG: Three more volumes of A Song of Ice and Fire wait to be written. What shape do you expect them to take, and are their titles finalized as yet?

GRRM: Yes, three more volumes remain. The series could almost be considered as two linked trilogies, although I tend to think of it more as one long story. The next book, A Dance With Dragons, will focus on the return of Daenerys Targaryen to Westeros, and the conflicts that creates. After that comes The Winds of Winter. I have been calling the final volume A Time For Wolves, but I am not happy with that title and will probably change it if I can come up with one that I like better.

You tend to write protagonists with strongly negative personality quirks, people who certainly don't fit the standard mold of a hero. People like Tuf in the Tuf Voyaging series, and Stannis and Tyrion inSong of Ice and Fire. Do you deliberately inject your characters with unattractive elements to make readers consciously think about whether they like them and why?

Martin: [Laughs.] Well, I don't know that I'd choose the word "unappealing," but I look for ways to make my characters real and to make them human, characters who have good and bad, noble and selfish, well-mixed in their natures. Yes, I do certainly want people to think about the characters, and not just react with a knee-jerk. I read too much fiction myself in which you encounter characters who are very stereotyped. They're heroic-hero and dastardly-villain, and they're completely black or completely white. And that's boring, so far as I'm concerned. It's also unreal. If you look at real human history, even the darkest villains had some good things about them. Perhaps they were courageous, or perhaps they were occasionally compassionate to an enemy. Even our greatest heroes had weaknesses and flaws.

There seem to be two different styles competing throughout the series: historical fantasy in the Seven Kingdoms series, and a softer Roger Zelazny/Arabian Nights style for the scenes abroad. Is there a conscious split between the two for you, or is it just an aspect of the setting?

Martin: I try to vary the style to fit each of the characters. Each character should have his or her own internal voice, since we're inside their heads. But certainly the setting has great impact. Dany is moving through exotic realms that are perhaps stranger to us than Westeros, which is more based in the medieval history with which we're more familiar in the West, so perhaps those chapters seem more colorful and fanciful.

You do tend to be very brutal to your characters.

Martin: Well, yes. But you know, I think there's a requirement, even in fantasy--it comes from a realm of the imagination and is based on fanciful worlds, but there's still a necessity to tell the truth, to try to reflect some true things about the world we live in. There's an inherent dishonesty to the sort of fantasy that too many people have done, where there's a giant war that rips the world apart, but no one that we know is ever really seriously inconvenienced by this. You see the devastated villages where unnamed peasants have lived, and they're all dead, but the heroes just breeze through, killing people at every hand, surviving those dire situations. There's a falsehood to that that troubles me. A writer can choose not to write about war. You don't have to write about war if that's not a subject that interests you, or you find it too brutal. But if you are going to write about war, I think you need to tell the truth about it, and the truth is that people die, and people die in ugly ways, and even some of the good guys die, even people who are loved.

June 2001

I'm a bit concerned about Dany's skills as a commander. To succeed with the invasion of Westeros, I believe she will need a lot of sound military advice (both tactically and strategically). What's your thoughts on this issue?

She will need counsel, yes... she will also need to learn to tell the good counsel from the bad, which is perhaps the hardest task of all.

Was it difficult to you when you wrote Dany's scene with the slavers in SOS? Was that one of the moments where the character spoke to you and changer their direction? Cause for me that act of Dany's seemed out of character. I know she dislikes slavery, but she must have killed an awful lot of innocent people there, plus her motives to me seemed suspect. Yes she freed the slaves, but she also got a large army for nothing. And right after she left the slavery started up again.

Dany is still very young. She has lessons to learn. That was one of them. It is not as easy to do good as it might seem, no matter how noble your intentions.

February 2002

1. Was Mirri Maz Duur telling the truth when she told Daenerys Targaryen that the latter could never have children again?

I am sure Dany would like to know. Prophecy can be a tricky business.

3. Is Daenerys Targaryen or anyone in her entourage able to tell whether her dragons are male or female? (Is the question relevant to dragons?)

Not yet.

4. Daenerys Targaryen believed that her brother Rhaegar loved Lyanna Stark. Does she also believe that Lyanna Stark returned this love?

Dany is not sure what to believe.

5. Since all of their mothers died, who gave Jon Snow, Daenerys Targaryen and Tyrion Lannister their names?

Mothers can name a child before birth, or during, or after, even while they are dying. Dany was most like named by her mother, Tyrion by his father, Jon by Ned.

March 2002

3) Is your world round. I mean if Dany traveled far enough east couldnt she come to the other side of westeros?

Yes, the world is round. Might be a little larger than ours, though. I was thinking more like Vance's Big Planet.... but don't hold me to that.

Oh, stupid fan question. I've been trying to get a visual of what the Quarth look like in my mind. In terms of what race they might be in our world. Tall and pale but I don't believe their hair color was mentioned. Would they be Western European looking? Slavic? Whenever their culture is mentioned I always think of either Persian or Indians.

I have tried to mix and match ethnic and cultural traits in creating my imaginary fantasy peoples, so there are no direct one-for-one correspodences. The Dothraki, for example, are based in part on the Mongols, the Alans, and the Huns, but their skin coloring is Amerindian. The Qartheen are an even more exotic hybrid, and offhand I don't recall where I got all the cuttings.

April 2002

[Shaun] How do you view Dany's place in the series. She seems an heroic character to me, but the writeups on the back covers always speak of her as a villain...

[+GeorgeRRMartin] to shaun ignore the blurbs on the back cover and make up your own mind who is the hero and who is the villain

[Erix] Dany will be betrayes 3 times. Did ser Jorah betray here once for money? so does this make it 2 betrayels so far?

[+GeorgeRRMartin] to erix no comment (twice!)

He said that in his original plan (when he wanted to write a trilogy) the Red Wedding would take place in book one, and Dany's landing in Westeros in book two. Now he says that Dany's arrival in Westeros will take place in book 5, A Dance with Dragons.

December 2003

Shaw: You created Jon as a bastard and an outcast from the get-go. Yet he's also one of the most attractive characters. Did you choose to make Jon a bastard to make him more attractive as an "underdog," or was his bastard birth central to the shaping of his character itself?

Martin: Almost all the characters have problems in some way. Very few of my major viewpoint characters have all the answers or have an easy path through life. They all have burdens to bear. Some of them are women in a society that doesn't necessarily value women or give them a lot of power or independence. Tyrion of course is a dwarf which has its own challenges. Dany is an exile, powerless, penniless, at the mercy of other people, and Jon is a bastard. These things shape their characters. Your experiences in life, your place in life inevitably is going to change who you are.

Shaw: As the novels unfold, Jon becomes increasingly identified with the northern cold and ice, just as Dany is closely tied to the southern heat and fire. Will these two ultimately embody the central image of the series, Ice and Fire?

Martin: That's certainly one way to interpret it. That's for my readers to argue out. That may be one possible meaning. There may be a secondary meaning, or a tertiary meaning as well.

Shaw: Are all the Targaryans immune to fire?

Martin: No, no Targaryans are immune to fire. The thing with Dany and the dragons, that was just a one-time magical event, very special and unique. The Targaryans can tolerate a bit more heat than most ordinary people, they like really hot baths and things like that, but that doesn't mean they're totally immune to fire, no. Dragons, on the other hand, are pretty much immune to fire.

February 2004

Jon and Dany will be the two focal characters of AFfC (in the sort of way in which Ned was the focal character of AGoT).

May 2005

He doesn't feel that it's fair to call his work gratuitous. He wants the reader to live vicariously though his books (a function of fantasy writing), feel the characters emotions. If a character is at a feast, he wants the reader to smell the food, experience Dany's discomfort at being served an unappetizing dish. The same with the sex scenes-he wants his readers to feel like they are there.

Another bit of information that I found interesting- we *WILL* hear about the POVs who will not have front stage as it were, but will have it in ADwD. The reports of those chars will be somewhat garbled and messy as can be expected from any news that has travelled that distance and is that important. ex) Varys' manipulation of the Dany information, or Theon's skinning of the miller's information (we didn't know it wasn't Bran and Rickon until later). *THOSE* are the kind of reports we will see in AFFC about the missing POVs. We will get information on them, but have no idea which parts, if any, are correct.

I have some more things to add about things I asked, but I will probably trickle out things as I sober up and recall them. :p

The following will show up in ADwD:

Arya, Bran, Jon, Dany, Tyrion, and Asha (she will be in both books, as she gets involved in affairs of the North)

[Note: Spoiler POV redacted] has the most number of chapters in AFFC, while Dany has the most in ADwD. Also, the number of Tyrion chapters is going up from 4 to 7 in ADwD (his storyline is basically beinbg expanded).

GRRM said Dany and the Wall is excluded. That removes Dany and probably Tyrion plus the Wall which presumably means Jon and Davos.

Dragons will deal with Daenerys and the North. He decided to split by character, rather than in the middle of the story, as he wanted a complete book, rather than FfC part I and II.

This is no hoax.

I swear it by ice and fire. I swear that I will never post again should this prove false. I swear I will never touch wine again, if it is not true.

George said it is done.

But he had to make a major change. It had grown too large.

Daenerys will not appear. There will be little if any action in the North. Those chapters will be moved into the next book, which should come out shortly thereafter.

AFFC will be the size of AGoT.

The next book will still be called aDwD. (Dany will be in it after all).

That being said, Dany will be presented with a map of the world from a fellow whose name I cannot remember because the pronunciation was very odd indeed.

There was some talk about the Targaryen bloodline and how it worked when there weren't enough siblings to marry. Uncle might marry niece or aunt, nephew. There were also cousins in that family at one time.

Dany has more chapters than anyone. He also said that Dany's love life is going to become "extremely complex"

Parris has proclaimed that Arya cannot die! (No, she wasn't there :( but he mentioned it when someone said that he's not allowed to kill Dany)

So yeah, in short, book not done but soon, lots of Dany, the Ironborn, and the Dornish, and Renly and Loras were INDEED knocking boots.

October 2005

The main point of discussion was the reason for the five-year wait since A Storm of Swords. I'm sure most of you know this already but, briefly, he wanted a 5-year gap between ASOS and ADWD to allow the kids to grow up. Some characters, mainly the children and Daenerys, really benefited from this, but most of the other characters suffered and the book was degenerating into a flashback-fest. After about a year he decided that wasn't working, ditched everything, and started again.

November 2005

His analogy is that the series is a symphony and each book is a movement, and explained that he likes each character arc to have some sort of finale in each book, whether it's on a cliffhanger, or a completion of some phase of the character's story arc (or death hehe). Ultimately, he decided to divide it geographically as you all know, since Dany's story is taking place in Martinland's China, and the rest is taking place in Martinland's England.

One man asked whether George ever learns of people naming their kids after his characters. He pointed the guy to his website, where he even has baby pictures of Sansas, Aryas, even a Daenarys, Nymeria, Eddard, Bran, Chataya, and several Cerseis. He won't take credit for the Jons, though (hehe). It was great; someone in the audience made a crack about Cersei, and someone else said "as long as they aren't twins"). He mentioned meeting a little girl whose parents had named her Daenarys and he made a joke about how she was really going to hate spelling that when she gets to first grade. He also once got a letter from a 23-year-old girl named Lya whose mother said she was named after a character in one of his stories (A Song for Lya) and wanted to know who the heck Lya was. George sent her a copy! Hehe. He said he finds it flattering overall, but thinks it's a bad idea when the story isn't done yet and some of the characters will come to a bad end, and then those parents will be pissed with him!

He was asked or mentioned most of the stuff that's already been covered, but one thing he talked about that I found particularly interesting was Romanticism. He said that he is a romantic, in the classical sense. He said the trouble with being a romantic is that from a very early age you keep having your face smashed into the harshness of reality. That things aren't always fair, bad things happen to good people, etc. He said it's a realists world, so romantics are burned quite often. This theme of romantic idealism conflicting with harsh reality is something he finds very dramatic and compelling, and he weaves it into his work. Specifically he mentioned that the Knight exemplifies this, as the chivalric code is one of the most idealistic out there, protection of the weak, paragon of all that is good, fighting for truth and justice. The reality was that they were people, and therefore could do horrible cruel things, rape, pillage, wanton killing, made all the more striking or horrifying because it was in complete opposition to what they were "supposed" to be. Really interesting stuff.

At the San Diego signing, I asked GRRM at the Q&A, "Besides Dany's dragons, have all the Targaryen dragons been descendants of Aegon the Conquerors three?" GRRM answered "yes".

And that one of the things he regrets losing from the POV split is that he was doing point and counterpoint with the Dany and Cersei scenes--showing how each was ruling in their turn.

Q: 5-year gap?

A: It worked for characters like Arya and Dany but not so much for the adults or those who had a lot of action coming. He was writing chapters where Jon thought, "Well, not a lot has happened these past five years, it's been kinda nice." And Cersei chapters where she thought, "Well, I've had to kill sooo many people the last five years." So he ended up dropping it. He said he would have done it sooner if he hadn't told so many fans about it. And there is no gap anymore. "If a twelve-year old has to conquer the world, then so be it."

(Petyr is just Peter, for example.)

Some he did say during the course of the evening:

Cersei = Sir-say

Jaime = Jamie (I think that was obvious but just in case)

Sansa = Sahn-sa

Tyrion = Tear-ion

Arya = Ar-Ya (Ex, Are ya?)

Daenerys = Dane-err-is

TARGARYEN KINGS

SUBMITTED BY: AMOKA

[Note: The following information was sent to Amok for his contribution to the Fantasy Flight Games artbook.]

These are all Targaryens, of course, so there should be a strong family resemblence from portrait to portrait. All of them (except as noted) will have the purple eyes and silver-gold hair for which House Targaryen is noted. All of them should be wearing crowns... the same crown in many of the pix, though it will change once or twice along the way, as noted.

The hard part will be making each of the kings an individual, despite the similarities, and evoking each one's character through facial features, pose, clothing, background, and other elements in the portrait.

Here's the lineup:

DAENERYS I. Daenerys Stormborn. No description necessary, I assume. Show her wearing the three-headed dragon crown she was given in Qarth, as described in A CLASH OF KING. Might be good to include the three dragons in the picture. Show them very young, as hatchings, one in her lap, one wrapped around her arm and shoulder, one flying just above her.

January 2006

He repeatedly emphasized that he prefers to write grey characters, because in real life people are complex; no one is pure evil or pure good. Fiction tends to divide people into heroes who do no wrong and villains who go home and kick their dogs and beat their wives, but that reality is much different. He cited a soldier who heroically saves his friends' lives, but then goes home and beats his wife. Which is he, hero or villain? Martin said both and that neither act cancels out the other.

February 2006

NAERYS TARGARYEN

SUBMITTED BY: AMOKA

[Note: The following continues GRRM's series of descriptions of notable Targaryens (and Targaryen bastards) for Amoka.]

The sister of King Aegon the Unworthy and Prince Aemon the Dragonknight was beautiful as well, but hers was a very fine and delicate beauty, almost unworldy. She was a wisp of a woman, smaller even than Dany (to whom she bears a certain resemblence), very slender, with big purple eyes and fine, pale, porcelain skin, near translucent. Naerys had none of Dany's strength, however.

July 2006

George regrets that Cersei and Dany will not be contrasted directly. I told him of how some dedicated boarders try to defeat him and piece together a timeline. George replied that he tries to keep it vague.

He likes the extra breathing room to flesh out the characters. Bran didn't have any chapters and Dany's ending was different. Now he likes the way she ended. I think he actually may be doing more with Dany.

SPOILER: Possible for ADWD

The second Dance of Dragons does not have to mean Dany's invasion.

Geroge stopped himself short and said he shouldn't say anymore. The response came because of my question of whether the dance would take place in ADWD because AFFC and ADWD parallel. So now my friends, speculate away.

February 2007

Some other bits of info from Q&A: In Song, he considers Bran the hardest viewpoint character to write, while Tyrion is the easiest. The Red Wedding was partly based on a historical event in Scotland called the Black Dinner. His biggest lament in splitting A Feast for Crows from A Dance with Dragons is the parallels he was drawing between Circe and Daenerys.

E. His dragons have no front limbs -- just rear legs and wings. He said that although the traditional depiction of dragons as six limbed creatures has become a staple of fantasy -- the fact that no animal in nature has ever evolved in such a way always bothered him. As a sci-fi writer originally, he insists on the depiction of the dragons with just four limbs. I never heard that before and though it was pretty neat.. In addition, he said that although AsoIaF dragons are intelligent, they cannot speak and will never evolve into the sort of dragons we see in Tolkien or Le Guin. Specifically he said’ Drogon is never going to share witty aphorisms with Dany. The Targaryens rule by Fire and Blood and that is what the dragons represent in the story". I guess the power icon is more Nedly for them than some of us thought when they were first rolled out back in AfoD.

F. Cersei and Daenerys are intended as parallel characters --each exploring a different approach to how a woman would rule in a male dominated, medieval-inspired fantasy world.

May 2007

GRRM: Well, the next book out is A Dance with Dragons, of course, and that's the fifth book of the series but in some ways it's really 4B, as those of you who follow the series knows that A Feast for Crows got so big I had to pull it in half. I split it not by chopping it right in the middle but I split it by characters. The one I'm working on now is going to have an awful lot of the characters that that aren't in A Feast for Crows, it's going to have a lot of Jon Snow, a lot of Daenerys, a fair amount of Davos, and it's going to have have a lot of "me" -- Tyrion, who is your favorite, and my favorite, so I'm enjoying writing a lot of those right now.

And you know I got phone calls from people at the studio afterwards saying, "There is a way to make this as a feature. There's a way to do it as a movie. You could just take Jon Snow and Daenerys and just concentrate on them and get rid of some of the minor characters." And it just, it was kind of appalling because, much as I love Jon Snow and Daenerys, I didn't want to lose the other characters. I mean this is an epic and the only way we could conceive of doing it properly was to tell it as a series. And you can't do it as a series where's it interrupted every twenty minutes by a commercial for toothpaste. And you can't do it where I'd have Tyrion saying the things he says and doing the things he says, all of which network TV would have had a huge problem with.

So we really felt from the beginning that the best way to do this was on HBO or possibly Showtime.

August 2007

Just because I still love Popinjay and the Turtle and my other Wild Cards characters does not mean I have stopped loving Arya and Tyrion and Dany.

April 2008

BERBERS AND DANY

[Did the unrest during the transition between Arab and Berber rule inspire Dany's storyline?]

No. Sounds fascinating, but I'm afraid I don't have enough experience with the Berbers or their history to draw on them for inspiration.

July 2008

GRRM was asked the typical question, of where the idea for ASOIAF had come from. He replied that in the summer of 1991, when he was working as a Hollywood screenwriter, in a gap between assignments he began work on a new novel, a sf novel called Avalon ( personal note, no I would not swap it for ASOIAF, but I would have loved to have read it), set in his future history universe. And somehow, he found himself writing the first chapter of AGOT, about the direwolf pups un the snow. And after that came a second chapter and pretty soon he spent the whole summer writing AGOT.

From there he started to plan a trilogy, since there were 3 main conflicts ( Starks/Lannisters; Dany; and the Others) it felt it would neatly fit into a trilogy (ah!), but like Tolkien said, the tale grew in the telling.

April 2010

GRRM said he regretted mentioning the eye color of any of his characters. He also noted that as a brown-eyed person, he finds it annoying that brown-eyed characters are always portrayed as ordinary, while the doers of great deeds always have blue or hazel eyes or something - he notes that he himself was somewhat guilty of this with the violet eyes of Dany or the red eyes of Melisandre.

(25) Any particular storyline he is enjoying right now?

He said that Dany's storyline is emerging in increasing importance. But he is struggling with the Meereenese Knot. So he can't say he is enjoying it. But he is really enjoying writing Arya's story. He could write an entire novel of it. He could write an entire YA novel about her...(at this point the audience starting clapping and calling out YES! DO IT!)...but her entire story isn't part of the greater novel. He has 12 novels worth of info for this book and its hard to fit it all in.

February 2011

Sam Thielman: So, why did "A Dance With Dragons" take longer to write than the other books in the series?

George R. R. Martin: Well, you know, that's a good question and I'm not sure I have an easy answer for that. #1, none of the books have been exactly fast, I mean, I'm a slow writer, I've always been a slow writer, and the books are huge. I mean, they're three, four, five times the size of most novels being published. And they have extremely complex interweaving storylines. I remember back when I did the first book, 'A Game of Thrones,' Asimov's Magazine wanted to publish an excerpt and I pulled out the Daenerys storyline from the first book, and they published that as an excerpt, and after I pulled out all the Daenerys chapters and put them together for Asimov's, I did a word count and discovered, technically, I had a novel, just about Daenerys. I'm never gonna be one of those writers who has a book a year, or two books a year like some of my colleagues do. I simply can't write that fast. I do a lot of polishing and revising, and it's a big task.

July 2011

Tad: Question: Do you purposely start a character as bad so you can later kill them?

GRRM: No. What is bad? Bad is a label. We are human beings with heroism and self-interest and avarice in us and any human is capable of great good or great wrong. In Poland a couple of weeks ago I was reading about the history of Auschwitz – there were startling interviews with the people there. The guards had done unthinkable atrocities, but these were ordinary people. What allowed them to do this kind of evil? Then you read accounts of acts of outrageous heroism, yet the people are criminals or swindlers, one crime or another, but when forced to make a choice they make a heroic choice. This is what fascinated me about the human animal. A lot of fantasy turns on good and evil – but my take on it is that it’s fought within the human heart every day, and that’s the more interesting take. I don’t think life is that simple.

Tad: All of us work with multiple viewpoints – I hear this next question a lot: with story-driven plots, how do you decide which character viewpoint to write from – do you write several characters, taste them, then decide?

GRRM: No, not several, at least not intentionally. I had more choice early in the series, I frequently had situations where 2 or 3 were present at the same time. But as it’s progressed they have dispersed, so I need to be in the viewpoint of whoever’s there. There are some cases when I have a choice and in that case, I weigh which one. Without talking exactly about "The Mereenese Knot" – I’m not going to talk exactly about it, but but [there was a time when] a number of viewpoints were coming together in Mereen for a number of events, and I was wrestling with order and viewpoint. The different points-of-view had different sources of knowledge and I never could quite solve it. I was rewriting the same chapter over and over again – this, that, viewpoint? – spinning my wheels. It was one of the more troublesome thickets I encountered. There’s a resolution not to introduce new viewpoint characters, but the way I finally dealt with things was with Barristan, I introduced him as a viewpoint character as though he’d been there all along. That enabled me to clear away some of the brush.

Tad: Question: do you choose characters because they will provide you with a viewpoint or something characterful?

GRRM: Actually, no. I try to give each viewpoint character an arc of his own, and ideally I would like to think that you could pull the material out – in the early books I was able to pull out the Daenerys chapters and publish them separately as a novella, and I won a Hugo Award for that. It'd be great if I could pull out each [character-arc] and it would resemble a story. In some cases a character died and that was a very short story. My prologue and epilogue characters always die but even then I try to give them a story.

Your books, especially recently, are full of women trying to exert power in a male dominated world who have to compromise themselves along the way. Are you trying to make a feminist statement?

You could certainly interpret it that way. I don't presume to say I'm making a statement of this type or that type. But it is certainly a patriarchal society, I am trying to explore some of the ramifications of that. I try to write women as people, just as I try to write any other characters. Strong and weak, and brave and cowardly, and noble and selfish. It has been very gratifying to me how many women read my work and how much they like at least some of my female characters.

The one thing I must confess to being frustrated by is the first Tyion chapter where you set up this expectation that he’s going to meet Dany, and I got excited. Then about 600 pages later I’m realizing, “OK, that’s not gonna happen, at least not in this book.”

Yeah, it’s the “kind of bring ’em together but don’t give them the confirmation.” In some ways it’s not so different than the sexual tension in TV shows — are Catherine and Vincent [on Beauty and the Beast] finally going to kiss? Same philosophy. This is the kind of stuff I wrestle with. I could have ended the next chapter: Tyrion gets off the boat and there’s Dany. But the journey itself has its own interest.

There’s a point in the series where you feel like you’re reading a bunch of separate stories. Toward the end of Dance, you feel the threads starting to come back together. Is that accurate?

That’s certainly the intent, and always was the intent. Tolkien was my great model for much of this. Although I differ from Tolkien in important ways, I’m second to no one in my respect for him. If you look at Lord of the Rings, it begins with a tight focus and all the characters are together. Then by end of the first book the Fellowship splits up and they have different adventures. I did the same thing. Everybody is at Winterfell in the beginning except for Dany, then they split up into groups, and ultimately those split up too. The intent was to fan out, then curve and come back together. Finding the point where that turn begins has been one of the issues I’ve wrestled with.

There was a fair amount of explicit sex in the series and some fans of the books were taken aback.

One of the reasons I wanted to do this with HBO is that I wanted to keep the sex. We had some real problems because Dany is only 13 in the books, and that’s based on medieval history. They didn’t have this concept of adolescence or the teenage years. You were a child or you were an adult. And the onset of sexual maturity meant you were an adult. So I reflected that in the books. But then when you go to film it you run into people going crazy about child pornography and there’s actual laws about how you can’t depict a 13 year old having sex even if you have an 18 year old acting the part — it’s illegal in the United Kingdom. So we ended up with a 22 year old portraying an 18 year old, instead of an 18 year old portraying a 13 year old. If we decided to lose the sex we could have kept the original ages. And once you change the age of one character you have to change the ages of all the characters, and change the date of the war [that dethroned the Mad King]. The fact we made all these changes indicates how important we thought sex was.

References the chapbook with the first three Dany chapters from 2005 and that it offers insight as to how much the book has changed since then.

There's been an interesting discussion on our forum concerning "orientalism" as it's expressed in your work, and one question it's led to among readers is whether you've ever considered a foreign point of view characters in Essos, to give a different window into events there.

No, this story is about Westeros. Those other lands are important only as they reflect on Westeros.

Part of the difficulty of this particular novel was what you called the "Meereenese Knot", trying to get everything to happen in just the right order, pulling various plot strands together in one place, and part of the solution was the addition of another point of view character. Was this something where you tried writing it from a number of different point of views before settling on a new one? Did you actively resist adding a new character?

The Meerenese Knot related to everyone reaching Dany. There's a series of events that have to occur in Meereen, things that are significant. She has various problems to deal with at the start: dealing with the slavers, threats of war, the Sons of the Harpy, and so on. At the same time, there's all of these characters trying to get to her. So the problem was to figure out who should reach her and in what order, and what events should happen by the time they've reached her. I kept coming up with different answers and I kept having to rewrite different versions and then not being satisfied with the dynamics until I found something that was satisfactory. I thought that solution worked well, but it was not my first choice.

There's a Dany scene in the book which is actually one of the oldest chapters in the book that goes back almost ten years now. When I was contemplating the five year gap [Martin laughs here, with some chagrin], that chapter was supposed to be the first Daenerys chapter in the book. Then it became the second chapter, and then the third chapter, and it kept getting pushed back as I inserted more things into it. I've rewritten that chapter so much that it ended in many different ways.

There's a certain time frame of the chronology where you can compare to A Feast for Crows and even A Storm of Swords and figure out when they would reach Meereen and the relative time frames of each departure and each arrival. But that doesn't necessarily lead to the most dramatic story. So you look at it and try and figure out how to do it. I also wanted to get across how difficult and dangerous it was to travel like this. There are many storms that will wreck your ship, there are dangerous lands in between where there are pirates and corsairs, and all that stuff. It's not like hopping on a 747, where you get on and then step off the plane a few hours later. So all of these considerations went into the Meereenese Knot.

Then there's showing things after [an important event], which proved to be very difficult. I tried it with one point of view character, but this was an outsider who could only guess at what was going on, and then I tried it with a different character and it was also difficult. The big solution was when I hit on adding a new point of view character who could give the perspective this part of the story needed.

March 2012

If you listen to the CBC interview which you'll see the link for under General ASOIAF, much of what he said was repeated tonight. He admitted Tyrion was his favourite, and if he was having dinner with 3 characters, they would be Tyrion, Maester Aemon and then he thought of Arya, but feared she would throw food at him, so he'd go with Dany, because she's hot!

June 2012

Near the end of the signing, a man presented Martin with two books and his daughter. “This is Daenerys,” he told Martin, “I sent you a letter about her five years ago.” Daenerys, a squirmy blonde in a pink jacket, looked about five years old. “Hello there,” Martin said, “do you like dragons?” She nodded, and they made room for the next fan.

Now that we know how the "Meereenese knot" played out, what was the problem with this? For example, was it the order in which Dany met various characters, or who, when, and how someone would try to take the dragons?

Now I can explain things. It was a confluence of many, many factors: lets start with the offer from Xaro to give Dany ships, the refusal of which then leads to Qarth's declaration of war. Then there's the marriage of Daenerys to pacify the city. Then there's the arrival of the Yunkish army at the gates of Meereen, there's the order of arrival of various people going her way (Tyrion, Quentyn, Victarion, Aegon, Marwyn, etc.), and then there's Daario, this dangerous sellsword and the question of whether Dany really wants him or not, there's hte plague, there's Drogon's return to Meereen...

All of these things were balls I had thrown up into the air, and they're all linked and chronologically entwined. The return of Drogon to the city was something I explored as happening at different times. For example, I wrote three different versions of Quentyn's arrival at Meereen: one where he arrived long before Dany's marriage, one where he arrived much later, and one where he arrived just the day before the marriage (which is how it ended up being in the novel). And I had to write all three versions to be able to compare and see how these different arrival points affected the stories of the other characters. Including the story of a character who actually hasn't arrived yet.

October 2012

What's exciting to me about this session is that in this conversation, Martin talks at length about craft. He's been in the business of telling stories for many decades -- as a television writer and as a writer of fiction -- and he has a great deal to say about what works and what doesn't in different mediums. How is information conveyed to the audience (or the reader)? How do you keep sophisticated audiences on their toes? How do you create worlds in which most characters have to choose between the best of many bad options? How do you examine power from the perspective of outsiders, rejects and those who are constrained by conventional wisdom? Martin shared the insights of someone who has been contemplating these questions -- practically and philosophically -- for a very long time.

About midway through the podcast, there's a interesting discussion of his use of "close third person" narration and why that's effective in the creation of memorable characters. It's also interesting to note that he doesn't write the chapters in the order in which they appear in the books, and that he may write four or five Tyrion chapters before stopping and switching to another character. (Another fun fact that emerged -- and I'm sure hardcore "ASoIaF" fans already knew this -- Martin originally signed a contract for a book trilogy. I'm betting his publishers aren't sad he's now working on the sixth book in that "trilogy.")

Eventually, Martin zeroes in on his least favorite thing in any story: Predictability. But he admits that it's "very hard" to shake up the audience, which has grown more sophisticated with every passing decade. When he was writing for the revived "Twilight Zone" in the '80s, for example, network executives wanted the producers to end episodes with a twist of some kind, as the original Rod Serling series had often done. But the audience "could see all these twist endings coming a mile away," Martin said.

He also spoke about his fascination with power and with hierarchies that appear stable but are actually anything but. He mentioned reading a history of Jerusalem in which a mad ruler began killing dozens of courtiers and ordering the hands chopped off the women of the court.

"Why doesn't the captain of the guard say to the sergeant, 'This guy is [expletive] nuts?'" Martin said. "'We have swords! Why don't we kill him instead?'"

But loyalties -- clan loyalties, family loyalties, strategic alliances -- are powerful influences in the lives of Martin's characters, and their personal desires and their traditional duties or roles are often in conflict. And those kinds of unresolvable dilemmas are at the heart of what makes his stories resonate with those of us who didn't begin fighting with swords as children.

Paraphrasing Faulkner, Martin said "the only thing worth writing about is the human heart in conflict with itself." And that's a scenario that is very familiar to anyone who's ever visited Westeros, either as a reader or a viewer of the HBO drama.

Is A Song of Ice and Fire a parallelism or a criticism to our society?

No. My work is not an allegory to our days. If I wanted to write about the financial crisis or the conflict in Syria, I would write about the financial crisis or the conflict in Syria, without any metaphor. However, it’s true that in my novels appear several elements which we can find in world history. Things such as power, sex, pain… I have grown up as a science fiction reader, and it was my first love, even before fantasy. But science fiction, then, presented an idealistic world: the space, a bright future, but unluckily that optimism disappeared very quickly and the future wasn’t as good as we had expected. Nowadays, science fiction is very pessimistic and talks about dystopias: about a polluted world, about a rotten world… Of course I would prefer to be part of another world; a better world, but I can’t. Perhaps winter is not coming only to Winterfell, but in the real world.

March 2013

The readers are unhappy with leaving out the five-year gap?

Well no, some of the storylines from Feast for Crows. I get complaints sometimes that nothing happens — but they're defining "nothing," I think, differently than I am. I don't think it all has to battles and sword fights and assassinations. Character development and [people] changing is good, and there are some tough things in there that I think a lot of writers skip over. I'm glad I didn't skip over these things.

[For example], things that Arya is learning. The things Bran is learning. Learning is not inherently an interesting thing to write about. It's not an easy thing to write about. In the movies, they always handle it with a montage. Rocky can't run very fast. He can't catch the chicken. But then you do a montage, and you cut a lot of images together, and now only a minute later in the film, Rocky is really strong and he is catching the chicken.

It’s a lot harder [in real life]. Sometimes in my own life, I wish I could play a montage of my life. I want to get in shape now. So let’s do a montage, and boom — I'll be fifty pounds lighter and in good shape, and it will only take me a minute with some montage of me lifting weights and running, shoving away the steak and having a salad. But of course in real life, you don't get to montage. You have to go through it day by day.

And that has been interesting, you know. Jon Snow as Lord Commander. Dany as Queen, struggling with rule. So many books don't do that. There is a sense when you're writing something in high fantasy, you're in a dialogue with all the other high fantasy writers that have written. And there is always this presumption that if you are a good man, you will be a good king. [Like] Tolkien — in Return of the King, Aragorn comes back and becomes king, and then [we read that] "he ruled wisely for three hundred years." Okay, fine. It is easy to write that sentence, “He ruled wisely”.

What does that mean, he ruled wisely? What were his tax policies? What did he do when two lords were making war on each other? Or barbarians were coming in from the North? What was his immigration policy? What about equal rights for Orcs? I mean did he just pursue a genocidal policy, "Let’s kill all these fucking Orcs who are still left over"? Or did he try to redeem them? You never actually see the nitty-gritty of ruling.

I guess there is an element of fantasy readers that don't want to see that. I find that fascinating. Seeing someone like Dany actually trying to deal with the vestments of being a queen and getting factions and guilds and [managing the] economy. They burnt all the fields [in Meereen]. They've got nothing to import any more. They're not getting any money. I find this stuff interesting. And fortunately, enough of my readers who love the books do as well.

And meanwhile, you've got Daenerys visiting more Eurasian and Middle Eastern cultures.

And that has generated its controversy too. I answer that one to in my blog. I know some of the people who are coming at this from a political or racial angle just seem to completely disregard the logistics of the thing here. I talk about what's in the books. The books are what I write. What I’m responsible for.

Slavery in the ancient world, and slavery in the medieval world, was not race-based. You could lose a war if you were a Spartan, and if you lost a war you could end up a slave in Athens, or vice versa. You could get in debt, and wind up a slave. And that’s what I tried to depict, in my books, that kind of slavery.

So the people that Dany frees in the slaver cities are of many different ethnicities, and that’s been fairly explicit in the books. But of course when David [Benioff] and Dan [Weiss] and his crew are filming that scene [of Daenerys being carried by freed slaves], they are filming it in Morocco, and they put out a call for 800 extras. That’s a lot of extras. They hired the people who turned up. Extras don't get paid very much. I did an extra gig once, and got like $40 a day.

It's probably actually less in Morocco since you don't have to pay quite the same rate. If you're giving 800 Moroccans 40 bucks each, you're not going to fly in 100 Irishman just to balance the racial background here. We had enough trouble meeting our budget anyway.

I know for some readers, they don’t care about this shit. But these things are about budget and realism, and things you can actually do. You are shooting the scene in a day. You don't have a lot of time to [worry] about that, and as someone who has worked in television this kind of stuff is very important to me. I don't know if that is answer or not. I made that answer, and some people weren't pleased with that answer, I know. They are very upset about that.

August 2013

Amid reports of a dramatic uptrend in babies named “Khaleesi” and tourism to Dubrovnik, Croatia (aka King's Landing), we're guessing George R. R. Martin doesn’t need much of an introduction.

AC: How do you decide what you're going to work on, whose voice you're going to work in today?

GM: Well, I don't write the chapters in the order in which you read them. I get into a character’s voice. It's always difficult to switch gears, actually. When I do make that transition from one character to another, I usually struggle for a few days trying to get back the voice of the character I'm just returning to after some hiatus. But once I get into it, I tend to write not just one chapter by that character, but three or four. So I'll be writing Jon Snow chapters, and I'll carry that Jon Snow sequence as far as I can. And then at some point, maybe I'll get stuck or not be sure what I should do next, or maybe I've just gotten way ahead of all of the other characters in the books, so I need to sort of rein myself in and make myself switch from Jon Snow to Sansa or Daenerys or somebody like that.

November 2013

We can't leave Martin without pressing him for his thoughts on which of his characters keeps the best table. Would it be the wealthy, sun-loving Martell family with their Mediterranean-leaning flatbreads, olives and spiced snake? The sensualist Tyrion Lannister? Or the moveable feast of the court of Daenerys Targaryen with its duck eggs and dog sausage?

"Oh, Illyrio Mopatis, the magister, no question. Just watch out for the mushrooms."

March 2014

Was it a big shift for you, when you were writing the scenes that take place at Winterfell and suddenly you have the Daenerys scene, with an entirely different location?

Pretty early on, in the summer of ‘91, I had the Daenerys stuff. I knew she was on another continent. I think I had already drawn a map by then – and she wasn’t on it. I’d just drawn the map of the one continent that would come to be called Westeros. But she was in exile, and I knew that, and that was sort of the one departure from the structure. It’s something I borrowed from Tolkien, in terms of the initial structure of the book. If you look at Lord of the Rings, everything begins in the Shire with Bilbo’s birthday party. You have a very small focus. You have a map of the Shire right in the beginning of the book – you think it’s the entire world. And then they get outside it. They cross the Shire, which seems epic in itself. And then the world keeps getting bigger and bigger and bigger. And then they add more and more characters, and then those characters split up. I essentially looked at the master there and adopted the same structure. Everything in AGame of Thrones begins in Winterfell. Everybody is together there and then you meet more people and, ultimately, they’re split apart and they go in different directions. But the one departure from that, right from the first, was Daenerys, who was always separate. It’s almost as if Tolkien, in addition to having Bilbo, had thrown in an occasional Faramir chapter, right from the beginning of the book.

Although Daenerys is hooked into Winterfell, because we hear talk of her family, the Targaryen family, early on.

You see overlaps. Daenerys is getting married, and Robert gets the report that Daenerys has just gotten married and reacts to that and the threat that it poses.

Fortunately, the books were best sellers, I didn’t need the money, you know, so I could just say no. Other people wanted to take the approach of, there are so many characters, so many stories, we have to settle on one. Let’s make it all about Jon Snow. Or Dany. Or Tyrion. Or Bran. But that didn’t work, either, because the stories are all inter-related. They separate but they come together again. But it did get me thinking about it, and it got me thinking about how this could be done, and the answer I came up with is – it can be done for television. It can’t be done as a feature film or a series of feature films. So television. But not network television. I’d worked in television. The Twilight Zone. Beauty and the Beast. I knew what was in these books, the sex scenes, the violence, the beheadings, the massacres. They’re not going to put that on Friday night at eight o’clock, where they always stick fantasies. Both of the shows that I was on, Twilight Zone and Beauty and the Beast, Friday night at eight o’clock. They think, "Fantasy? Kids!" So I wasn’t going to do a network show. But I’d been watching HBO. The Sopranos. Rome. Deadwood. It seemed to me an HBO show, a series where each book was an entire season, was the way to do it. So when I sat down with David and Dan at that meeting at the Palm, which started out as a lunch meeting and turned into a dinner meeting, and they said the same thing, then I suddenly knew we’re on the same wavelength here.

June 2014

Q: What can you tell us about a warg dragon rider?

A: There is no history/precedent for someone warging a dragon. There is a rich history of the mythical bond between dragon and rider. There have been instances of dragons responding to their riders even from very far away (hmm) which shows it is a true and very strong bond. We will learn more about this. Keep reading (we hear “keep writing” from the back of the room).

Q: What is your favorite line in ASOIAF?

A: I can’t single out one line but my favorite passage is Septon Meribald’s speech about war in… what was it? (crowd yells out Feast for Crows).

November 2014

For people who are not familiar with your work, the series takes place in an imaginary world. There is a struggle for control of the kingdom. This dynastic war is essentially one of three main plot lines. There are the other plot lines involving these sort of superhuman characters, and then there’s the exiled Targaryen daughter who seeks the return of her ancient throne. Why those three main plot lines?

Well, of course, the two outlying ones — the things going on north of the Wall, and then there is Targaryen on the other continent with her dragons — are of course the ice and fire of the title, “A Song of Ice and Fire.” The central stuff — the stuff that’s happening in the middle, in King’s Landing, the capital of the seven kingdoms — is much more based on historical events, historical fiction.

Pop culture has grabbed “Game of Thrones.” It’s been featured in “The Simpsons” and “South Park.” What goes through your mind when you see these references?

Well, I think it’s tremendously cool, of course. It’s nice to be doing something that everybody is so aware of and that has entered the cultural zeitgeist in that manner. The only aspect of it that really astonishes me is not that the characters and the story is being parodied or referenced in these various places but the extent at which I personally am. I mean, when I see myself as a character on “South Park” or I see Bobby Moynihan imitating me with the suspenders and the hat on “Saturday Night Live,” when I see companies selling Halloween costumes, not Halloween costumes to be Jon Snow or Daenerys but Halloween costumes to be me, that’s pretty freaky. That’s something I could never have anticipated, and I just don’t know what to think of it.

May 2015

Still, it’s only natural that there’s a few characters Martin would have liked to have seen on the show that did not make it in.

“Strong Belwas, who was part of Dany’s entourage,” Martin said. “I understand why he was cut, but I kind of miss him.” In the books, the massive eunuch warrior is a former pit fighter who joins Dany in Qarth. Belwas’ story elements have essentially been combined with the character of Daario, who is arguably more essential to Dany’s journey.

June 2015

I explained that in my own head, Yandel is in King's Landing, clutching his book, showing up each day for an audience with the king... and each day being told perhaps the next day. Except on those occasions where, you know, they tell him the king's getting married today, and then whoops, Joffrey is dead, etc.

I also noted that of course, given how he wrote about the reign of Aerys and and the rebellion, that if Aegon or Daenerys take King's Landing he may indeed end up having his head chopped off... George seemed interested in the idea, I think. :P

May 2016

4. GRRM and Picacio both made the joke about "you need to pay the artist" and such regarding general fan fiction. And then GRRM said he has issued some sub-licenses to things like art and games, etc. GRRM also mentioned that HBO owns the rights to the exact likenesses of the tv version of the story, meaning, no art can be made where Dany looks like Emilia. He was very careful in avoiding a real link in feeling between him and HBO even though he was asked about it twice. Then GRRM mentioned, and Picacio joined in, how GRRM knew the show would overtake the books. Not too much new.

Reactions after the episode

c. Dany on Drogon seemed random and a repeat of previous seasons.

d. Others loved Dany on Drogon.

December 2016

And the most revealing: he said that for Winds, Winter is the darkest time 'where things die' and many characters will go dark places.

At last I was able to ask him the question I had sent for the tombola. I have always been fascinated by how ASOIAF embodies the theories put forward by Acemoglu and Robinson about countries with extractive institutions (which hamper development). So my question was: Why do you think the political institutions in the Seven Kingdoms are so weak? His answer: the Kingdom was unified with dragons, so the Targaryen's flaw was to create an absolute monarchy highly dependent on them, with the small council not designed to be a real check and balance. So, without dragons it took a sneeze, a wildly incompetent and megalomaniac king, a love struck prince, a brutal civil war, a dissolute king that didn't really know what to do with the throne and then chaos. Interesting answer.

July 2017

To a certain degree, also, it’s so intertwined, tragically and unfortunately, with the character histories. Daenerys doesn’t get to where she is unless she’s sold as a child bride, effectively a slave.

And I should point out, and you probably know this if you’ve read the books and watched the show, Daenerys’ wedding night is quite different than it was portrayed in the books. Again, indeed, we had an original pilot where the part of Daenerys was recast, and what we filmed the first time, when Tamzin Merchant was playing the role, it was much more true to the books. It was the scene as written in the books. So that got changed between the original pilot and the later pilot. You’d have to talk to David and Dan about that.

I had all these meetings saying, “There’s too many characters, it’s too big — Jon Snow is the central character. We’ll eliminate all the other characters and we’ll make it about Jon Snow.” Or “Daenerys is the central character. We’ll eliminate everyone else and make the movie about Daenerys.” And I turned down all those deals.

When you’re walking down the street in Santa Fe, do new character or historical details just pop into your head?

Sometimes it happens to me on long-distance drives. When I was younger I loved to take road trips, and get in the car and drive for two days to get to L.A. or Kansas City or St. Louis or Texas. And on the road, I would think a lot about that. In 1993, I think it was, I visited France for the first time. I had begunGame of Thrones two years before in ‘91 and I had to put it aside because television was happening. And for some reason, I had rented a car, I was driving all around Brittany and the roads of France to these little medieval villages and I was seeing castles, and somehow that just got me going again. I was thinking about Tyrion and Jon Snow and Daenerys and my head was full of Game of Thrones stuff.

You’re in unusual territory, with your characters very much still in your hands but also out in the world being interpreted for TV. Are you able to have walls in your mind such that your Daenerys, say, is your Daenerys, and Emilia Clarke’s Daenerys is hers and the show’s?

I’ve arrived at that point. The walls are up in my mind. I don’t know that I was necessarily there from the beginning. At some points, when David and Dan and I had discussions about what way we should go in, I would always favor sticking with the books, while they would favor making changes. I think one of the biggest ones would probably be when they made the decision not to bring Catelyn Stark back as Lady Stoneheart. That was probably the first major diversion of the show from the books and, you know, I argued against that, and David and Dan made that decision.

In my version of the story, Catelyn Stark is re-imbued with a kind of life and becomes this vengeful wight who galvanizes a group of people around her and is trying to exact her revenge on the riverlands. David and Dan made a decision not to go in that direction in their story, pursuing other threads. But both of them are equally valid, I think, because Catelyn Stark is a fictional character and she doesn’t exist. You can tell either story about her.

Is there anything we didn’t get to talk about?

I suppose there are issues we could have explored more with the whole question of sexual violence and women — it’s a complicated and fraught issue. To re-address that point a little, I do a lot of book signings, and I think I have probably more women readers than male readers right now. Only slightly, but it’s probably 55 percent, 45 percent, but I see women readers at things and they love my women characters. I’m very proud of the creation of Arya and Catelyn and Sansa and Brienne and Daenerys and Cersei and all of them. It’s one of the things that gives me the most satisfaction, that they’ve been so well-received as characters, especially by women readers who are often not served.

August 2017

- My question about Daenerys was chosen as the third question (I was lucky!) but he refused to answer it lol … I asked “How old was Daenerys when she left the house with the red door, and was it located close to the palace of the Sealord of Braavos?” (thanks Butterfly for suggesting it to me) I don’t know why he refused to answer about her age, but about the house with the red door he said there will be more revelations about it in future books.

- He was asked to comment about the differences between the book and show characters, particularly Daenerys. GRRM ignored all the other characters and talked only about Daenerys - he said that the show one is older because there are laws in USA that prevent minors from having sex scenes so the decision was made to age Daenerys. Otherwise, book Daenerys and show Daenerys “are very similar” and “Emilia Clarke did a fantastic job”. (I guess he can’t really say negative things about the show, can he?)

- “Will Jorah ever get out of the friendzone?” (side-eyeing the person who asked this). GRRM: “I would not bet on it.”

August 2018

Q: if you did have a child what would you name him or her?

A: “I don’t know... probably Not Daenerys”

November 2018

“I have tried to make it explicit in the novels that the dragons are destructive forces, and Dany (Daenerys Targaryen) has found that out as she tried to rule the city of Meereen and be queen there.

“She has the power to destroy, she can wipe out entire cities, and we certainly see that in Fire and Blood, we see the dragons wiping out entire armies, wiping out towns and cities, destroying them, but that doesn’t necessarily enable you to rule — it just enables you to destroy.”

[...] “If you read Fire and Blood, you’ll know there’s definitely a bond between the dragons and their riders and the dragons will not accept just any rider,” says Martin. “Some people try to take a dragon wind up being eaten or burned to death instead, so the dragons are terribly fussy about who rides them.”

[...] The prince defeated the threat in the North by driving his sword through his wife’s heart. Will Jon have to do the same to Daenerys? Or is she the prince, Azor Ahai, reborn? Martin suggests all may not be as it seems.

“The Targaryens have certain gifts and yes, taking the dragons and dragon riding and dragon breeding was one of them,” he says. “But the other gift was an occasional Targaryen had prophetic powers and could see glimpses of the future, which they didn’t always necessarily properly interpret because, you know, they were fragmentary and sometimes symbolic.

“But to what extent did they share those gifts, what did he see, what prompted him to do all this? These are things I find really interesting to ponder.

What was interesting from The Guardian interview you did, is this book — as daunting as it would seem for most authors to attempt, and as tough as Winds has been for you — this was curiously easy for you to write. Yes. Partly because it’s linear. Although it covers 150 years or so, it’s very straightforward — here’s what happened in the year 30, here’s what happened in 25. In Winds, I have like 10 different novels and I’m juggling the timeline — here’s what’s happening to Tyrion, here’s what’s happening to Dany, and how they intersect. That’s far more complicated.

August 2019

On the fame thing, does it ever feel surreal to stop and think about the reach that your work has had? I mean, couples meet through Game of Thrones, there are Thrones-themed wedding ceremonies, and babies are named after your characters. Is that something you ever dwell on and think to yourself 'God, my work has had this massive effect on people?'

It's very gratifying when you get letters, emails, and hear stories like that. They definitely do name children after my characters and send me pictures of their babies.

People also name their dogs, cats, iguanas, after my characters. Sometimes, it’s a little surreal. I often wonder about all the young Daenerys’ out there because kindergarten teachers will hate me because they have to spell it!

#daenerys targaryen #resources #grrm #valyrianscrolls

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thecoleopterawithana · 4 years

Audio

August 23rd, 1963 (Bournemouth, Hampshire): Klas Burling interviews the Beatles following their performance in Bournemouth's Gaumont Cinema. The Fab Four were on the midst of their England tour, which served as a short break from recording some more songs for the upcoming LP With The Beatles. John and Paul offer a contemporary peek into their early songwriting process.

KLAS: The songwriters in the Beatles, they are John Lennon and Paul McCartney.

JOHN: [monotone] Hurray.

KLAS: Tell us something about how you find a song... how you get the idea about a song, to write it down.

JOHN: Well, sometimes it's the words first, and then the music after.

KLAS: Very often you've got a title, you know... Me and you, and everything like that?

PAUL: Yeah. We try to do that, to make it personal so it's... so we really mean it. When we sing a thing about 'I love you,' it's easier.

JOHN: [singing] 'And don't you forget it!'

JOHN & PAUL: [singing together, jokingly] 'I love you and don't you forget it!'

PAUL: Well, you see, it's easier than singing something about the cat that lives on the hill, man.

[Laughter]

PAUL: It's a lot easier just to sing about what you feel yourself.

KLAS: And you've given a lot of nice numbers to Billy J. Kramer.

JOHN: [loudly] Well, he's our good friend and mate... buddy... pal... friend.

PAUL: Yeah. Listen to 'Bad To Me,' folks.

KLAS: Your latest recording is called..?

PAUL: It's called 'She Loves You.' And there's story to this one, how we wrote it. We were on tour with Roy Orbison, and Gerry and the Pacemakers. And we were in Newcastle, up north of England, and we were in a hotel room. We had about three days left in which to write a song. We had a recording date set for three days from this date. So we went to the hotel and we booked in a room, and we just decided that we have to write a song very quickly. So we sat down, no ideas came for a bit. But eventually we got an idea. 'She Loves You' came, you know. It was just lucky.

KLAS: But from the start that was supposed to be the B-side, John?

JOHN: The B-side of 'She Loves You' was meant to be the A-side. And the same for 'From Me To you.' The B-Side of 'From Me To You' was the A-side, and then we wrote another song after.

KLAS: Well, it...

JOHN: Came out better.

PAUL: Yeah, see, we write one song, then we can get going then after that and get more ideas after having written one song. So we wrote 'I'll Get You' which is the B-side, first. And then 'She Loves You' came after that, you know. We got ideas from that, and we recorded it.

KLAS: Yes.

PAUL: And there ya go.

KLAS: It sounds very easy, all of it.

JOHN: Sometimes it's easy. Sometimes it's hard.

RINGO: [jokingly] We find it difficult sometimes!

[Laughter]

KLAS: [jokingly] Thanks, Ringo.

[John and Paul giggle]

The song John and Paul are referencing to telegraph messages to each other is Perry Como’s 1963 single ‘(I Love You) Don’t You Forget It’.

This song was nowhere near a hit, reaching #39 in the US and not even making it into the charts in the UK. So I kind of like to imagine that even with their burgeoning success and tight schedule, John and Paul remained forever connoisseurs, consuming together all kinds of musical influences, even if they had to get out of their way to do so. That or they were Perry Como fans who kept up with his material, even the less well-known. Both scenarios are charming.

youtube

I love you an' don't you forget it, I love you an' don't you forget it, I love you an' don't you forget it, baby!

Love me too an' you won't regret it, Love me too an' you won't regret it, Love me too an' you won't regret it, baby!

I love you an' don't you forget it, I love you an' don't you forget it, I love you an' don't you forget it, baby!

I love you an' don't you forget it That makes seven times that I've said it, I don't see how you can forget it now!

I love you in the springtime, I love you in the fall, I love you at a party, We always have a ball!

And when you're in my arms dear, I love you most of all... In the morning an' in the evening, An' when it's cloudy or clear, I'm in love with you, so in love with you,

Every day of the year!

I love you an' don't you forget it, I love you an' don't you forget it, I love you an' don't you forget it, baby!

Love me too an' you won't regret it, Love me too an' you won't regret it, Love me too an' you won't regret it, baby!

I love you an' don't you forget it, I love you an' don't you forget it, I love you an' don't you forget it, baby!

I love you an' don't you forget it, That makes twenty times that I've said it, I don't see how you can forget it now!

I love you an' don't you forget it, There, that's one more time that I've said it, I don't see how you can forget it now!

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roxstarash · 3 years

Text

Cardcaptor Sakura Episode 70 – Sakura to Hontou no Omoi ( Sakura and her true feelings) episode review

Have you ever watched an anime as a little child and dreamed of being the main character? Did you ever imitate the way they dressed, talked and behaved? Well, I did! As a little girl and even now an adult, I did that and it was always, always, always Cardcaptor Sakura! Ah, yes. It was the dream of every girl of my age. And though it embarrasses me a little bit, even now as I am reaching my very late twenties, I am still a very huge fan! Not only particularly Sakura, but other Mahou Shoujo themed anime as well. What is that anyway? To give you a short background, it is an anime revolving magical girls. That’s actually the translation itself. Another popular magical girl anime would include Sailor Moon, Akazukin Cha-Cha, Saint Tail, just to name some. Sadly, I don’t think I can name more that are contemporary since I have so much anime to watch that I hardly have time to search new magical girl themed ones. Or do they even make one anymore? But the good thing here is that this type of anime isn’t so often shown that when they make them, it lasts!

Going back to the main focus, I’d like to talk about Cardcaptor Sakura. As we all know, it has been more than a decade since it was last shown. That is why there is a gap between me and my fellow magical girl enthusiasts, and the timeline of being a fan. They stopped long time ago and now they started up on the story again! To give a recap, Sakura Kinomoto, the protagonist is a middle schooler who stumbled upon a magical book containing magical cards in her dad’s library. She unlocks it and scatters the Clow cards all over the city and awakens the guardian creature of the book, Keroberus or Kero for short. The whole plot goes around to her and her friends trying to retrieve the cards. Then eventually, having to turn the cards into her own. The cards and the book belonged to a magician from the past, Clow Reed. He also happened to create these cards and the guardians as well.

Now before I spoil even more so than I already have, I would like to take note that the following statements may contain more spoilers and that my opinions are my own, not representing any entity, organization or whatsoever with which I am or ever to be affiliated with.

Now we can recall from the previous episode before this, Eriol Hiiragizawa is conducting the final test for Sakura. She had to turn all the Clow cards into Sakura cards. With the help of Yue, Kero and Shaoran, things went smoothly and Shaoran even manages to finally confess his feelings for Sakura! Now in the last episode, Clow Reed has already revealed the reason for his return to the present time, reincarnated as Eriol. He had a mission to help Sakura be the new master of the cards. And why he hid these facts were because if Sakura knew everything, then she would not be able to perform to the best of her ability. For me, this has become a minor highlight because of the other stuff that happened in the episode. The facts are out in the open. Eriol will be moving to England, but they could still write letters to communicate with each other. Now for the bigger highlight is that finally, as mentioned above, Shaoran manages to tell Sakura about how he feels for her! Many episodes previously showed that Shaoran was falling in love with Sakura. He just couldn’t find the right moment to confess to her. As Sakura finds out about his feelings, there are awkward moments especially at school but they had important things to do so they end up not focusing on this yet. (This was the time they went to Eriol’s house and that’s when Eriol explained everything then.) Later on, Shaoran receives a call from his mother, asking him to go home to Hong Kong since all the Clow cards have been caught and converted into Sakura cards, thus there was no need for him to stay in Japan. Shaoran then talks to Sakura but not about this, throwing Sakura’s heart in a more confused state. He says how thankful and inspiring Sakura has been but cuts off and leaves her. He plans to go home without telling her nor waiting for her response to his confession. As Sakura went home, she pondered about how she felt for Shaoran and even noticed that it was different from her own feelings for Yukito. Even Eriol is aware and claims he did not foresee this. He initially expected Sakura and Yukito ending up together! But it seems that Shaoran and Sakura’s love prevails! (Well, not yet at this point.) Later on, she finds out from Tomoyo, that Shaoran was leaving for Hong Kong without saying good bye. It upsets her greatly and creates the Nameless card. In the airport, as Shaoran gets ready to leave, Sakura arrives in time to take a few moments to talk to Shaoran. Sakura asks for Shaoran’s bear to be hers for a while as he will be away in Hong Kong. The tale behind is that if you give a bear to someone, that person will love you forever. It was customary to give it to each other so you can be together forever. The episode ends in that way that it was almost unsatisfying. It was almost not an ending at all! But the musical touch of playing the third and final opening song, “Platinum” by Maaya Sakamoto was really great. That’s another great thing about this anime, all their opening and ending songs are catchy and beautiful. I still know the lyrics to this day even! Personally, my favorite are the first two opening songs but this song has a mellow feel to it. Another trivia is that the same voice actress/singer, Maaya Sakamoto sang the opening song for the Clear card arc!

More trivia: The Nameless card is an original card and is not found in the manga at all. If you are interested to know more about this and the other cards that will relate to it, you can watch it from the two movies, Cardcaptor Sakura the movie and the second one, The sealed card. Partly because for me, I think the second movie serves as the actual ending for the series. However, it is different from the prologue episode. The prologue episode is a special episode before the new arc, Clear card. The story focused on how the new series of Cardcaptor Sakura was about to start.

Things were a little different in the Prologue episode and you can compare the endings! Some differences were that Shaoran was a bit more confronting and tells Sakura that he was to leave for Hong Kong. And that Sakura made a pink bear in exchange for Shaoran’s gray bear. They also said their goodbyes not in the airport, but rather at the bus stop. Not exactly finale-like but I think it is nice for comparison. The second movie too is good for comparison because it ends in the way most would’ve anticipated that time - Sakura also confesses to Shaoran’s love! It also takes place a year after the last episode. I think this is the reason why the last episode seems unfulfilling in terms of her relationship with Shaoran. It was because they wanted to make it really end in the movie!

Overall, I think it is a fair ending for the series but lacked impact. But the movie itself would fill the shoes for that. The anime itself is great and I think having different endings to the anime is a plus because fans can pick out their personal favorites.

The last episode does not stop me from daydreaming of becoming a magical girl. Oh well, I have to go and catch some cards!

Note: This is one of my handwritten review that I submitted last Nov. 18, 2020 to Aniradio+ for my anime reviewer application. Unfortunately out of a rough estimate of 2400 applicants, I am not one of the 20 who were chosen.

Star Ashley Cruz

#anime #manga #review #cardcaptorsakura #writer #writing #journalism #literature #journaling #contentwriting

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apparitionism · 4 years

Text

Hark 4

I certainly didn’t expect to finish a Christmas/New Year’s story on Valentine’s Day, but, as Myka says at one point in this concluding part, “here we are.” Writing takes as long as it takes. Fortunately no one is paying for this, so I haven’t had to jam the “as long as it takes” into a contractually obligated timeline. I’m grateful to those who read the prior parts (part 1, part 2, and part 3), and I offer much respect and thanks again to @kla1991 for running the @bering-and-wells-exchange .

Hark 4

Throughout the game, Myka and Helena held hands below the table: a warm clasp of accord. Myka harbored a fitful little hope that someone would actually try something cheesy with mistletoe, because while they were reconciled, they weren’t fully at ease, and mistletoe would be a helpful excuse... but she realized, with a certain amount of guilt, that maybe she and Helena had spooked the rest of them such that they were unlikely to poke the bear. Or the bears. Or say “Messiah” to the press, or to the presses, or whatever metaphor she was looking for. She couldn’t blame them.

Pete played Sorry like he was being paid not just to win, but to humiliate everyone else: every chance he had, he bumped one of someone else’s pawns, and he exulted in saying “sorry not sorry!” each time. The universe clearly didn’t see fit to punish him for any of this preadolescent gloating, for he continued to draw ideal cards and make ideal moves.

If Myka had been focusing on anything other than Helena’s hand in hers, and how near each other they sat, she might have cared. As it was, she listened with half an ear as Pete trumpeted, in ultimate triumph, “Now for Star Wars trivia! At which I will also rule.”

“You won’t,” Claudia said. “I will. But you’ll always be King Dub to me.”

“Hey, that makes me a saint too,” he said, “because of the song.”

Myka said, “If you’re a saint, I’m good King Wenceslas.”

“Can’t be two,” Pete decreed, “and I already called it.”

“Steve’s the saint anyway,” said Claudia.

“Stephen,” said Steve.

Pete pointed at him and accused, “You said that isn’t your name!”

“Right,” Steve said. His patience very nearly equaled Leena’s. “I’m not the saint. In the song. Well, one of them. Wenceslas, but Stephen has a feast day and everything.”

“I want a feast day,” Pete grumbled.

“I’m certain Saint Peter has one,” Helena told him. “You could appropriate it.”

Myka said, “Please. You’ve seen him eat. All feast all the time, no sainted day required.”

Claudia said to Steve, “My point is you are one though. Not in the song.”

“I think you’re still under some saxophone influence. Besides, my exes would disagree,” Steve said with a sigh.

“They just didn’t know you like we do,” Claudia assured him.

“To bring it back to what matters,” Pete said, “however they knew him, it wasn’t like how I know Star Wars.”

Leena said, very dry, “I think Star Wars is the grateful party here.”

Everyone except Pete looked at her with matching raised eyebrows.

“I can make a joke, you know,” she said.

Helena found her voice first. “Indeed you can,” she said. “Ahem. Is this trivia contest multiple-choice?”

Claudia said, “To repeat myself, or I mean ourselves: Sorry. It’s fill-in-the-blank.”

Helena nodded. “No possibility of my winning by mathematical chance, then. I joyfully decline to participate.”

“You can sit beside me while I play,” Myka told her.

“You’re playing?” Pete yelped. “You didn’t play last year!”

“I’m in a winning mood. I’d like to keep it going.” Under the table, she felt Helena tighten her grasp, and in response, her heart offered her an extremely cheesy throb of pleasure—no mistletoe required.

Pete waved incredulous hands at her. “Keep what going? I called Wenceslas before you, I just whupped you at Sorry, and what do you even know about Star Wars?”

“I’ve seen the movies. You forced me to.”

“Yeah, but that—”

“So I’m pretty sure I know everything about Star Wars. To repeat myself, because apparently I need to: I like how everyone always forgets I will never forget anything. Do you people even remember your names?”

Steve said, “I did recently go into detail about mine.” It hadn’t been residual saxophone influence, Myka was pretty sure, that had made her agree strongly with Claudia’s sainthood idea. And it was definitely not residual saxophone that made her chuckle at his reminder.

Pete snorted. “Strategic forgetting is how most of us get through life. Particularly, how we handle our relationships. Obviously Myka wouldn’t know anything about that.”

Myka tightened her own grasp on Helena to blunt the impact of her words as she said, “Believe me when I tell you that if I could forget strategically, my strategy would be extensive. But I can’t. So here we are.”

Now Pete frowned. “I think you oughta tap out then. This should be a fair fight about supreme Star Wars knowledge.”

“How is it not fair that Myka can remember more than you can?” Leena asked him.

“Also,” Steve said, in full saintly-peacemaker mode, “she probably doesn’t know behind-the-scenes stuff, so the rest of us have an outside chance.”

“Not me!” Helena chirped, and Myka was reminded—not that she needed to be—of how impossibly charming Helena was when she was cheery. “And yet I can maintain my own winning mood, for I will be able to sit beside Myka and not watch a movie.”

Claudia squinted at Myka, then at Helena. “I don’t get it,” she said.

“Me either,” Pete agreed.

Leena looked at Myka. She looked, specifically, in the direction of Myka’s ears, as if she could see them through the hair that Myka hoped kept them hidden. So much for that: Leena said, “I think Myka does.”

The Star-Wars-movie this one of these had, in fact, shown that the argumentative tailspin wasn’t compulsory. Myka and Helena had had the B&B to themselves on a rare free afternoon, and Helena had for some reason announced a determination to watch the first one, which Pete and Claudia had been insisting she put next on her list. Myka had said, “I’d rather read a book than watch a movie.” Particularly Star Wars, she added internally.

“That is because you are accustomed to movies.”

“No, it’s because I’d rather read a book than watch a movie.”

“First, you of all people should understand that one’s preferences are shaped by one’s historical circumstances. But second: any book? Over any movie?”

“Of course not.”

“Then why maintain that that is your overarching position?”

“Why do you always think I’m talking about some inviolable rule I live by?”

“Because as a rule, you do talk about inviolable rules you live by. Which are in turn inviolable rules you believe others should live by.”

“I am not dictatorial like that!”

“You are,” Helena said, very quietly.

That had hit Myka as an open hand to the face. A judgment—and she remembered feeling the obstinance of argument begin to take hold. “I am not,” she said.

“You are,” Helena said again, and Myka had tried to clear a preemptive mental break around whatever territory this new conflagration was poised to burn through: movies, books, history... but then Helena had, uncharacteristically, declined to ignite it. “However. It’s right that you should be.” A twitch of face, and Myka understood, as another open hand, exactly what that twitch meant.

“But it wasn’t right,” she said, knowing it for a terrible, hated fact. “Not for you, it wasn’t. Not for you or about you. Judgment based on stupid inviolable rules. No nuance.”

“I left you no room—well, left no one any room, but in particular you—for nuance. I did what I did, and you had no choice.”

“You did what you did,” Myka agreed. “But there are always choices.”

“They can be impossible to discern.”

“I didn’t make good ones.”

“That is not for me to judge,” said Helena, “speaking of judgment. But I made none that were good. Obviously.”

“Are we making better ones now?” Myka wasn’t really asking, because the answer was obviously yes, but it was also—sometimes, and just as obviously—no. But differently. “Could we?” she tried, hoping for possibility.

Helena took her up on the offer. “Well, let’s see,” she said. She batted her eyelashes at Myka. “Choose to watch the movie with me.”

“I’d rather read my book,” Myka said, which was how the whole thing had started, but now she was smiling.

Helena was too. “All right. Choose to read your book but also sit beside me while I watch the movie, which has been deemed indispensable to my ability to engage appropriately with contemporary society.”

“That’ll make it very unlikely I can concentrate on my book.”

“Because of the movie’s indispensability?”

“Because of sitting beside you.”

In response to that, Myka received a much more sincere blink. “That is in fact indispensable. Choose to sit beside me and not read a book.”

“Only if you choose not to watch a movie.”

“Done,” Helena declared.

No book was read. No movie was watched. Extremely good choices were made. As they drowsed together later, entangled, Myka had said, surprising herself just a little, “I’d rather do this than read a book.”

“That is an inviolable rule I am happy to live by.”

Late on Christmas Eve—moments before the clock chimed Christmas—everyone had retired but Myka, Helena, and Leena. Helena, who had begun to yawn, started up the stairs, but Myka said, “I’ll be there in a minute. I want to help Leena with the last of the cleanup.”

After a small hesitation, Helena said, “All right.”

Not until Helena had stepped on the creaky second-to-last stair, thus putting her demonstrably out of earshot, did Leena say, “You don’t have to stay up on my account. I was going to leave the rest for tomorrow anyway. It’s mostly Pete’s mess; he can deal with his own consolation-prize cookie crumbs.” She said it with a smile, but it was an accurate description of the evening’s results: Myka had continued to let herself be distracted—though Steve had also been right about the behind-the-scenes problem—and Claudia had taken the Star Wars crown. After feting her, they’d pulled Pete out of a mope only by means of everyone participating in a ceremonious awarding of consolation cookies and Helena reminding him that Christmas was certainly a feast day.

Myka had been waiting for that stair-creak too. “Actually I wanted your help. With... I guess a different kind of cleanup.” Because Myka harbored some suspicions, and Leena was the one most likely to know whether they were justified. And to be willing to tell her if they were. “Let me ask you: Why’d the Messiah tap Pete on the shoulder?”

Leena shrugged. “You heard the theory. Claudia needed Caretaker practice.”

“I did hear that. So, really, why’d the Messiah tap Pete on the shoulder?”

Now Leena smiled. “Caretaker practice aside—though she did get some—I do think it had a different plan.”

“Okay. I’m probably going to regret not leaving it at Caretaker practice, or even at a get-to-know-Saint-Steve session, but seriously, what was the plan?”

“Well. Let me ask you: what’s an argument? Not mathematically. In the vernacular.”

“Fine, I’ll play. It’s a... vocal exchange of opposing views?”

“Right. Opposing. An insistence on separation—a placing of space. Between those views, between the voices articulating them, and also between the individuals holding them. Sound familiar?”

“I changed my mind about playing,” Myka said.

“Maybe, recently, that sort of placing of space had something to do with singing? Prior to your little tiff that we all witnessed, I mean. Of course I’m just guessing.”

“I doubt that.”

“And on the other hand, what’s Christmas caroling? Particularly with regard to voices articulating things.”

“Okay. I get it. It’s kind of what I suspected.”

Leena’s smile deepened. “One more step. What were the artifacts concerned about?”

Myka wanted to bang her head against a wall. “Their insta-relationship with Christmas.” She sighed. “Being defined by it.”

“Close enough.”

“You said the reason the Messiah does this is different every time.”

“The Messiah and the arguments it makes—they’re useful tools.”

“Tools,” Myka said. “Useful to the building, I take it.”

Leena nodded. “Tools. In your case, I think, useful for trying to show you that you don’t have to insist so hard on separation. You don’t need to worry about being put in any sort of Christmas aisle.”

“Why, seriously, does the building feel like it has to intervene?”

“It’s obviously invested in the two of you.” Leena said, but her expression turned quizzical. “The two of you together? It seems to think...” She searched, searched. “It seems to think your investment in each other changed something. Changed some circumstance for the better? I don’t know why, and I could be wrong.”

“That seems very unlike you.”

“I don’t read minds. I don’t read buildings, either, but I’ve been here a while. I do know that when it’s grateful, it likes to give gifts.”

“That is seasonal and lovely. And when I say ‘lovely,’ I mean disturbing.” Myka paused, because she didn’t know what should come next. “Will you tell Helena all this?” she asked.

“Will she need to hear it?” Leena countered.

Would she? Helena was obviously more tuned in to artifacts, to the Warehouse, than Myka would or could ever be. She’d stood in the building, among all its powerful objects, for nearly a century, with nothing to do but listen. “Probably not,” Myka finally said. “I think she heard more tonight than I did. Than I could have.” Throughout the entire caroling nonsense, Helena had indeed seemed more collected than Myka had felt, except when they’d both lost their singing-related composure so completely. “I doubt she could do what you just did, though.”

“And what’s that?”

“Translate it into words I can understand.”

“I’m not sure that’s true, but if it helped, then consider it my gift to you. Nothing to do with Christmas.” Leena glanced at the clock on the living-room mantel. “But also, merry Christmas.”

“You know, my feeling about that—maybe my whole life—has mostly been ‘We’ll see.’ And I’ve been okay with that. But tonight? It’s ‘I hope so.’”

“You’ll get it right,” Leena said.

“Again I’ll go with ‘I hope so.’ You too, by the way. Merry Christmas, I mean; you don’t need me to tell you anything about getting things right.”

“We all try.”

Myka found her vision and her voice unacceptably watery as she said, “I’m constantly surprised by how beautiful that is.”

Leena flung her arms around Myka in a fervent hug, and Myka returned it—wholeheartedly, though her arms were rusty when it came to putting them around anyone but Helena. They’d been rusty, period, until three short months ago.

Three short months. On her way upstairs, Myka took each individual step with attention, partly because it had been an astonishingly long day and the movement required effort, but partly because she could not, most nights and especially not this night, keep from playing a magical-thinking game in which displaying eagerness by hurrying up the stairs would mean that Helena would not be in their bedroom, that their bedroom would not in fact be theirs. That Helena’s presence—the entire improbable unfolding of their lives since the thing—would turn out to have been a mirage.

The second-to-last stair creaked under her deliberate pressure, and she resisted the urge to skip the last one.

Opening the bedroom door, she was rewarded for following the nonexistent rules. Helena sat on the edge of the bed, still fully dressed. Waiting.

Myka’s body responded to that sight; her blood told her, murmuring as it moved, that love was a mystery: her blood moved, and she knew why but didn’t know why... a mystery, a tangle of clues that she would continue to try to unravel, but also a deeper, near-religious mystery. Myka’s own religious education was strictly comparative, but she knew that love was, indeed, a truth known only through revelation.

Helena herself was a mystery too, her revealed truth at once glorious and painful and incomprehensibly sitting on a bed in front of Myka...

“Happy Christmas,” Helena said.

...and saying, “Happy Christmas.” Glorious. Incomprehensible. “Here’s what’s funny,” Myka told Helena. “‘Silent Night’ was always my favorite Christmas carol.”

“My understanding of contemporary humor is on par with my tragically inadequate grasp of contemporary culture.”

“Well, I don’t mean funny.”

“Oh. Then yes. Entirely funny.”

“Do you have a favorite?” Myka asked.

“No.”

But she’d answered way too fast, so Myka tilted her head in a manner she knew Helena found difficult to dismiss. Before Helena, she hadn’t known she could say “please” quite so clearly, in quite so many contexts, without actually uttering the word.

Helena sighed. “I shouldn’t say. You’ll take it as an indication that tonight was my fault.”

“If it’s the Hallelujah chorus, I will tesla you.”

“It’s no longer my favorite, if that helps at all. So my ‘no’ was truthful. Technically.”

“Well,” Myka said. “Technically, tonight was our fault. And Leena’s pretty sure you already know that.”

“Know...” Helena said, as if she would need to work out this unfamiliar word’s derivation and usage in order to make any sort of definitive statement about whether she could possibly “know” anything.

It didn’t seem to leave Myka much space, not at all. “What are we even doing?” she asked.

“Uneven,” Helena said immediately.

“What?”

“Whatever it is we are doing, we are certainly uneven doing it.”

“Okay, that is funny,” Myka said, “or at least accurate. I did tell you I’d tell you later.”

“That makes no sense. What are you telling me?”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re right.” She sat down next to Helena, taking care to preserve a distance between them: a significant few inches of bed. A placing of space. As in an argument. “There’s something I’d like you to tell me. If you would.”

“I can’t imagine I wouldn’t,” Helena said. She looked down at that inch, then back up at Myka. “Or perhaps I can imagine.” Myka wasn’t sure how to read that, but then Helena shifted her hips a few millimeters closer to Myka and asked, “What is it?”

The purposeful nature of that movement caused Myka’s ears to heat again, but she pressed on. “What it’s like to hear them. The artifacts. Can you always?”

Helena took a moment before answering. That prize of thought... no, tonight it was a gift. Happy Christmas. “It is like an awareness of presence that is slightly more intrusive than a head cold.” Myka didn’t feel herself make a face of incredulity, but Helena said, “I’m not being dismissive of your question; that is what it is like. For me. As for whether I can always? In the past, more so. Tonight was anomalous in that I was... included. Deliberately, if I’m not mistaken. Obviously the Warehouse and I have had—continue to have—a rather fraught relationship.”

“Leena says it’s grateful. The building. To us.”

“Why?”

Myka was glad to be able to infer, from that startled syllable, that such an idea was new to Helena too. “I don’t know. She says she doesn’t either. Something about changing some circumstance for the better?”

“For the better? I can certainly imagine it being grateful to you. I know that gratitude well.”

“Aren’t we past that?” Myka asked. Please let us be past that. But then again: three short months.

Helena waited, waited, waited. Thinking again, but this time not a gift. She at last said, “And if you change your mind?”

Myka, nonplussed, said an inadequate, “About what?”

“About my being here. It’s because you want me here. What if you change your mind?”

She wouldn’t even sit in a chair without your say-so, Pete had said. Myka hadn’t wanted that power then, and she didn’t want it now; yet she also yearned to be able to tell Helena something like “I couldn’t change my mind.” But that wasn’t true... or she couldn’t guarantee its truth, for if the Warehouse had taught her anything—other than “don’t let Pete out of your sight during inventory”—it was that the future was another of those undiscovered countries. Instead of making an inevitably faulty promise, she said, “That the building has feelings about us suggests that I shouldn’t. That neither of us should. That it wouldn’t take kindly to me, to you, to us, if we did.”

“That is a terrible reason,” Helena said. But she said it with a turn of her head toward Myka that was legible as comically rueful.

Myka turned her head too, more fully toward Helena. “How about we just don’t? How about the reason is, I don’t want to change my mind, and neither do you?”

“I don’t. Want to.”

“Okay. Me neither.” Myka made a millimeters-shift of her own, such that they now seemed separated by only an atmospheric wisp of molecular width. “Leena also says neither of us is being moved to the Christmas aisle.”

They were close enough to feel breath, to know air for the current it was, one on which they were poised to flow toward each other. “Good news,” Helena’s voice propagated through that current.

Myka let herself luxuriate in waiting, reveling in the difference between this waiting and other kinds. “I bet you knew that too.”

“My knowledge is not so vast as you seem to believe,” Helena said. But she put that weird I-don’t-know-this-word emphasis on “knowledge.”

She put it on “believe,” too, as if she had plucked the idea of belief from Myka’s thoughts. As Myka would have expected “her” to do, if “she” were not in fact here. Myka said, “Sometimes you sound like the voice in my head,” though she had intended never to bring up that bit of self-indulgence—her words had been completely involuntary, jumping of their own accord into whatever it was that flowed between them, and Myka was reminded that she had never volunteered for any of this.

Helena moved her head backward, a cartoon-ostrich retraction. “You can’t possibly mean your conscience.”

The movement, and the words, made Myka laugh. “You sound nothing like my conscience. No, I mean your voice. In my head. When you were... gone. You were still here”—and she would have pointed to her head, but it was her heart too, so she ended up just waving feebly in her own general direction—“even when you weren’t here.”

“I should apologize for my continued presence. You didn’t need that or deserve it.”

“Let’s really really not talk about needing or deserving.” Maybe that was where intimacy came from—knowing someone else’s needs and deserts—but talking about it? That would lead to the opposite of intimacy, Myka was sure. Or at the very least, to more separation, not less.

Helena said, “It isn’t as if you weren’t present for me. When I was allowed to be...” A troubled throat-clear. “Conscious? Rare that you weren’t there, of course. Physically. When I was. Wasn’t? But. You were. When you weren’t.”

That stammery rollout left Myka stranded, so she turned to self-deprecation: “I’m sure I’m just as judgy or rule-bound or whatever, even if I’m not physically around.” That got her nothing. She tried, “What did you imagine me saying?”

Helena didn’t really answer. “I admit I never envisioned—enheard?—your solving intractable riddles about hymns and cantatas.” She said that with a lightness, but she switched back to broody with, “How limited my imagination. Particularly with regard to... well, anything. But particularly anything sung.”

Playing to Helena’s vanity was the best way to improve her mood, so Myka said, “Limited? Your imagination?” She waited until Helena smiled, then said, “Maybe about singing. But singing aside, I love your voice, by the way.”

That got her an inhalation, one that she chose to read as positive. Helena said, on the exhale, “Yours is the sound I want to listen to, by the way. Am privileged to listen to.”

“Don’t think about privilege,” Myka told her, to try to forestall any martyr-ish self-abnegation. “You should have what you want.” Speaking of deserving, she didn’t add but could have.

“So should you.” So quiet.

“Okay then,” Myka said. “Notwithstanding the building’s thoughts on the matter, what I don’t actually want is to never fight with you.”

Helena’s shoulders, which had been slumping, snapped to—and not with the irritation that usually accompanied such a movement. “Thanks be,” she said, those shoulders now relaxing rather than dejectedly sagging. “I don’t want to be insipid, and I don’t believe you do either.”

“The insipid aisle isn’t our spiritual home,” Myka agreed. Hoping to move the current again, she said, as a slight provocation, “You still eat apples wrong.”

Helena caught the ball perfectly: “You still stole ‘God Save the Queen.’”

“It’s not like you were using it, though. Given that you can’t sing it.”

“You stole it to no purpose, however. Given that you can’t sing it either.”

I love your voice, by the way. “Maybe I was trying to get you to chase me. To try and get it back.”

The play continued, with Helena saying, “I wish I had. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“You were a little preoccupied with staking out your position. Which was separate from mine. And also very far away from the insipid aisle.” Myka smiled. “Plus I was driving. There would’ve been an accident.”

Helena smiled too, but the molecular width between them remained.

Closing it effectively would take something more, so Myka said the most true thing she could find. “Things I didn’t think of: spending Christmas with you.”

“You are as of some moments ago in actual fact doing that.”

“But the idea of it.”

Judging from Helena’s response, that was not quite the right thing to have said. No closing up of space. “You see, however, for me,” Helena said, “the idea of Christmas. At all.”

“I see, but I don’t see. And maybe I need to ask. Are you being religious about it?”

Helena took yet another moment. “I was certainly inappropriately glib about what I was flaunting,” she at last said. “But the Warehouse will beat certain beliefs out of one. Or try to.”

Belief, belief, belief. “And beat new ones in,” Myka agreed, with some gloom.

“True,” Helena said. Her repentant grimace softened. “But sometimes not beliefs so much as realizations. Full ones. Not that I needed the fullness brought home, but even so.”

“Such as?”

“Among other things, that Steve is right.”

“About what? I mean, probably most things. But specifically?”

“About who is most likely to know all the unsaintly details. And in your case will never forget them. Not even strategically.”

“I’m not your ex. I’m never going to be your ex.” That was another involuntary utterance, so she added a painful-yet-voluntary, “Unless that isn’t what you want.”

“I have tried assiduously to stop wanting,” Helena said, “in circumstance after circumstance, for it’s always seemed the better part of valor. To spare everyone involved.” Myka hated that she agreed with that, but it was true that if Helena had stopped wanting much of what she had wanted, many people would have been spared many things, up to and including their lives. Then Helena said, with a small shrug, “And yet my appetites persist. Particularly the animal.”

The casual mention of animal appetites, the calm acceptance of them... Myka had never liked acknowledging those appetites, much less accepting them; she had tried mightily to resist being distracted by them, but her response to Helena made them undeniable.

Part of what had enraged Myka about Helena’s crazed apple-eating was that it made Myka want to knock the apple from her hand and lick her needlessly sticky fingers. She had resented Helena for her ability to reduce Myka so effortlessly to her body, but she was coming to understand—was trying to really, fundamentally grasp—that the right verb was not reduce but rather elevate.

Elevate. “My appetite is for you,” Myka said. So bald, that statement. It was true, but bald and thus risky. These things she didn’t say out loud. Shouldn’t say out loud?

“Don’t doubt that mine is for you as well,” Helena said, very much out loud.

“I don’t doubt that. I really don’t.” A nostalgic phrase leapt to her mind... if such a thing as nostalgia applied after only three short months... “I believed in you and I was right.”

“You do enjoy being right. But what if, even so, I prove you wrong?”

She didn’t need to add, And thus make you change your mind. Obviously they would not stop running up against this—but what mattered was that they were willing to not stop running up against it. They would probably keep running up against the fear of the insipid aisle, too—but what mattered was that they knew it. Could see it... well, and on the evidence of today and tonight, hear it. That had to help. “You really need to listen to me,” Myka said. “You need to hear it: I believe in you, and I am right.”

Hearing herself, she understood that, as it turned out, she was not quite as tired of belief as she had thought. The realization made belief itself no less exhausting... but it did make it a bit more easy to reconcile. “Peace isn’t only for normal people,” she said.

“Have I suggested it is?”

“We’ve both been acting like it is. Assuming it is?”

“We are certainly not normal people.”

“But some peace? I don’t think it’s a synonym for insipidity.”

“‘Insipidity’ is a terrible-sounding word, isn’t it? Whereas ‘peace’... no, you’re right. Some. Solely of the season? We did manage a temporary truce,” Helena said, as if she were having Myka’s exact thought about seeing it—hearing it—and what that might be able to help.

“You knew we needed one.”

“Apparently the Warehouse knew it before I did.” No questioning, now, of that previously baffling concept of knowledge. Myka felt the give-in—felt it in a melt of body beside her.

“The building might not be entirely wrong all the time,” Myka said.

“It will no doubt appreciate your concession.”

“What matters is, will you appreciate it?”

Helena moved her mouth: a teasing Will I? moue. She then said, dropping the tease, “I appreciate everything about you.”

“You do not appreciate my singing voice.”

But that was met with surprisingly sweet, open sincerity on Helena’s face. “I do. Today has taught me that. For it is recognizable as yours.”

Myka’s vision watered again. She said, with difficulty, “Even if I could sing, I couldn’t sing anyway.”

“Why?” Helena asked. Like she really didn’t know.

So Myka told her: “Because when you say things like that, you take my breath away.”

It was her own version of cheesy mistletoe, and the resistant-to-the-insipid-aisle core of her wished a very real wish that Helena would wave it off. Instead, Helena closed the molecular gap that remained between them, closed it with a decisive swing of body to straddle Myka’s legs, closed it further with a lean into Myka’s body that began at the torso and progressed to become a kiss, one into which Myka pushed up, up, and Helena pushed down, down. At last, no distance at all.

“Are you trying to prove something?” Myka asked when Helena lifted her mouth away.

“What?”

“About how many times you can stop my breath. In quick succession.”

“That kiss was not quick. But perhaps I will try to set a record, to mark the holiday.”

“You weren’t kidding about happy Christmas, were you.”

“I was not. Don’t doubt that.”

Don’t doubt. It did seem a more restful thing to do than engage in the affirmative act of belief.

Don’t doubt.

And that, Myka hoped, was what the building had been trying to convey... and it was something for which she did feel gratitude. She had not really expected that, so she said it out loud to Helena, and added, “Speaking of religion, is it sacrilegious to be surprised that the building got something right?”

Helena sat up straighter—just a bit, but “don’t go,” Myka was tempted to say, as molecules of air intruded between their upper bodies. “Well, gratitude,” Helena said, with a wave of her left hand, and “the Warehouse,” with a wave of her right. “It’s difficult to reconcile. And yet without the building, I wouldn’t be here, in this unevenness, with you.” She put her hands on Myka’s shoulders, both at once, with equal force: the gratitude hand, the Warehouse hand.

Myka’s own gratitude hand and Warehouse hand had been resting on Helena’s hips. She flexed her fingers, pressing into flesh, and Helena gave the tiniest arch to her back. Even that little spine-stretch was enough to remind Myka that they had lately spoken of appetites. “So what you’re saying is, it gets almost everything wrong, but I have it to thank for this unprecedented happiness? Sure, I can hold both of those in my head.”

“That sounds very like your feelings for me.”

“Ditto, and don’t bother denying it.”

Helena held very still. “What would you like me to bother to do?” she asked. She was still, but her body was warm against and near Myka’s, even across the torso-distance.

“Wasn’t there something about chasing me?”

“I seem to have caught you already.” Now she moved her hips in a hot push against Myka’s and said, “So unsaintly, these details.” Another hot push. “Perhaps Steve would prefer to be a saint, but I wouldn’t.” She moved yet again, stronger, and Myka was reminded of the animal nature of those unsaintly details. How such details brought them closer together, leaving no distance between their positions. Needs and deserts—saints didn’t have either of those. Or if they did, their sainthood most likely required them to deny the former and endure the latter. Myka wanted to satisfy the former and ignore the latter.

Wanted, wanted, wanted. “I’m not anybody’s version of a saint,” she told Helena. “So I don’t want you to be one either. I’d rather you be a thief.”

“I’d rather you be a thief.”

“What can I really steal from you.” Myka wrapped her arms around the body atop and against her: stealing nothing, holding everything.

“Beyond an anthem?” Helena dipped swift to kiss Myka, in the relaxed, open way she did at the best of times. The way that said I don’t doubt this at all. “My breath; my heart. But you have those already. Have had, you thief.”

“The only reason I have those is that you gave them to me.”

They were gifts. If the Warehouse had needed, and had seized on, Christmas as a way to remind them that argumentative separation had a downside—one that they knew about but needed to know about—Myka had, maybe, needed it to remind her that all of Helena was a gift. From potential world-ending to provocative apple-eating to domestic hand-holding: all of her.

“Which aisle do we belong in?” Myka asked. “Not Christmas, not insipid...”

“Apples?” Helena proposed, sly, and Myka took it as an invitation to put her mouth to Helena’s hand.

“Animal,” she said as she did so.

Helena laughed, even as she arched her back again. “A bit crowded there, I suspect. What about literary manuscripts, genre of your choosing?” she offered in response. “We’d at least have reading material to keep us occupied.”

“Too drafty,” Myka objected. “Besides, isn’t there an inviolable rule about doing this instead?”

“Literary manuscripts about this,” Helena counterproposed.

“Pornography? Seriously? Most of it’s so poorly written.”

“I meant our version of this, which would of course be excellently written, for did you not listen when I mentioned writing a novel with you as its focus? Certainly it would include this... though as I think on it, I may need to engage in more research...”

The night dissolved into beautiful, comical essays of possibility.

“Uneven,” Helena said, much later, after many aisles had been proposed... and many appetites satisfied.

“I doubt that’s an aisle.”

“What did I tell you about doubt? We can annex some other space, then, like Pete with his feast day. We might in fact fly an uneven flag over it.”

Myka sighed. “Unfortunately that means we’ll need an anthem.”

Helena’s smile at that was the most conspiratorial, the most intimate, that she had ever shown Myka. Ever. Prior to and during their three short months, Myka had never seen this smile. “I know just where we can steal one,” Helena said.

Myka awoke in the middle of the night—a simple move to consciousness, not from a nightmare, not in response to any troubling sound, not a voice in her head or a noise outside it. In the Christmas silence, she slid a hand across the bed, in the dark, and it met Helena’s breathing body.

In careful concert with that body, she inhaled, exhaled.

END

What I would say in a tag essay, if tumblr seemed at all amenable to those anymore, is something about this: the breath in concert is the anthem of any lovers’ country. I should also mention that Myka’s “Well, I don’t mean funny” line is borrowed from the 1940 movie Too Many Husbands (screenplay by Claude Binyon), and it’s spoken by Jean Arthur, on whose work I’ve spent a lot of time... her voice, in particular, matters a great deal to me, and I found that line, and her reading of it, important for reasons I won’t go into here. Given that this piece is about voices, though, I thought I’d deploy the words as a bit of affectionate homage.

#bering and wells #Warehouse 13 #fanfic #Hark #B&W Holiday Gift Exchange #part 4 #kla1991 #bering and wells holiday gift exchange

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darkmindsotome · 5 years

Text

Folly

@xathia-89 this is for you my dear.

This was a collaboration piece with @umbralaperture. Ikevamp story that turns very steamy and spicy so please read with caution.

Warning: opulence, need, friendly “battle” a gentleman lost his mask.

Darkmindsotome Masterlist

---

Folly

It was safe to say that Le Comte has impeccable taste in clothing, even when he was eschewing tradition as he was with this selection. The jade satin dress had a luxurious emerald velvet trim. Cream-coloured lace inlaid with small beads of platinum accented the bodice, short sleeves and just above where the dress flared. Fine lace gloves that barely reached your wrists in a matching cream hue and an emerald green velvet choker completed the ensemble. Your hair, artfully styled in an updo, was accented with delicate satin flowers and pearls. Stepping into a beautifully handcrafted pair of satin slippers, you check yourself one more time in the full-length mirror before heading out of your room.

Leonardo waited for you at the door a gentle smile bowing his lips as you came into view. It was rare to see the inventor put together at all. Dressed sharply in his tuxedo with the shirt fully tucked in was enough to give you pause.

Still smiling, he lifts your gloved hand and places a kiss over the knuckles. "Cara Mia. You put any masterpiece to shame tonight. You look beautiful." His eyes glowed as they looked you over. Slipping an emerald velvet wrap around your shoulders, his gloved fingers feather across bare skin. "Wouldn’t want you catching a chill."

He extended his arm to you, and once you accepted, he led you to the waiting carriage. The gentlemanly grace was not something you were used to from Leo as he tended to hardly display much of it in practice. His gestures and movements had you enthralled.

"Leonardo, where are we going? Sebbie brought me the dress with a note that said 'It would please me to see you in this.' but nothing more."

Leo's enigmatic smile never faltered. "We're going to a ball, Cara Mia."

You pressed your lips into a line and narrowed your eyes. "Obviously, my dear Leonardo. Do try not to be obtuse."

He leaned forward and brushed a feather-light kiss across your painted lips, stunning you into silence. "Hush now. We're almost there."

True to his word, the carriage rolled to a stop before you could gather your thoughts.

"You'll want this." In his outstretched hand is a velvet mask trimmed with the same lace on your dress. When you look at him in question, you see he's donned a mask as well. "One must keep an air of mystery at a masquerade."

Without waiting for a reply he swooped in securing the mask to your face. It happened so quickly you didn’t have time to react although you were thankful to learn that it did seem to be a mask of quality. The lining provided a sensation of comfort against your flesh that would allow you to ignore it's presence once you got used to the extra weight of it.

Music played from within the building growing louder as you drew closer, your escort never leaving your side for a second. The gathering crowds turned their heads in your direction, no doubt admiring your companion. The scrutiny caused you to straighten your posture even more. Tonight no one knew who you were. You could be a real Countess for all they knew.

Marble flooring and ornate columns of the venue had it looking like something from an extravagant castle. The tables glittered with gold and wealth just as much as the attendees who swayed around the floor in elegant gowns and formal attire reminding you of waltzing figures in a glittering music box.

“Leo, what's the occasion?” The pomp and circumstance was over the top even for the Parisian elite.

“It's a party for patrons of Le Académie Impériale de Musique. A lot of nobles are here tonight… or not. Who can tell with all these masks?”

“I dare say you could easily tell the difference.”

Without acknowledging anything of the sort Leo simply smiled and shrugged.

"Would the lady be so kind as to grace me with a dance?" You knew that voice and turn toward it, fully expecting to see your love, long brown coat and all.

Instead, you're greeted by a man in a formal black tuxedo. The coat was the swallowtail cut, a short coat with tails that was currently all the rage. The only departure from contemporary fashion was his vest and bow tie. They matched your dress perfectly. The back mask with silver filigree did nothing to conceal the burning gold eyes.

You didn't realize you'd offered him your hand until Leonardo spoke up.

"My task is complete then? Enjoy your evening!" He tossed a jaunty wave over his shoulder and disappeared into the crowd.

"You're breathtaking, my dear." Le Comte murmurs, accepting your hand and brushing a kiss across your knuckles. His actions overlapping Leonardo’s from earlier as it overwriting an invisible mark left on your hand.

"You should know. You chose the gown." Try as you might, you could not stop the smile pulling at your lips as he led you to the dance floor.

"Ah. But I didn't. Dream? Yes. Imagine? Absolutely." He slid his arm around your waist and pulled you comfortably close. "Fantasize? Without a doubt. But no image I conjured came close to the vision in my arms at the moment."

Your body held flush to his swayed under his command to the melody. And still those eyes held yours taking control over every thought that might enter your mind, rendering them obsolete, allowing your full attention to remain as his captive.

“Are you aware of what they say about a Waltz?” You didn’t reply, your eyes simply moved from his golden gaze dropping to his plump lips as his voice dripped like honey into your consciousness. “It is just like making love.”

You give a sharp intake of breath as part of you pulls itself however reluctantly to the present moment. A reddish tinge of embarrassment coloured your skin.

“You did that on purpose, you bad man.” You gave a sweet show of resistance to him which only served to make your dance partner chuckle.

“Oh, how you tempt me. Did I go too far, my dear?” He strengthened his grip pulling you closer than before. The toes of your slippers almost leaving the floor as he brought his mouth closer to your ear. “Then why don’t you scold me?”

His words and actions served to tint your skin a rosier shade as the pink dusting of embarrassment darkened further with your rising temperature. For a moment you were pleased that at this angle he could not see your face as you required a few seconds to compose yourself even behind a mask.

“You are bolder tonight. Tell me would that be the power of the mask?”

“We all wear masks, my dear. Tonight I am simply a man captivated by a rare jewel he wishes to possess.”

"Possess?" your smirk held the hint of a challenge behind it. "What makes you believe you're worthy of possessing such a jewel?"

The two of you twirl across the floor with effortless grace. His gaze meets yours. For a moment you think he won't rise to your bait, he won't dignify your teasing with a response.

"Though I may be unworthy, I will never leave you wanting." His whispered words reach your ear just as the music ends. He ends the dance as he began it, bowing over your hand, brushing a kiss over your knuckles, eyes never leaving yours. A shiver dances down your spine at the intensity you see those depths.

"Would it be unseemly to monopolize your dance card this evening?"

"Indeed it would." your other hand is raised and the two of you look at the newcomer. Another set of gold eyes twinkle mischievously behind an intricate mask. "It wouldn't do to have you fill her head with your pitiful excuse of a good time when I'm here."

Le Comte made a tactical error when he stood tall against the newcomer, he released your hand. Unwilling to squander his advantage, the other man lightly tugged on your hand leading you to the dance floor.

As he slid his arm around you, the surprise wore off and you found your voice. Your scandalized whisper reached your dance partner and no further. "Leonardo da Vinci! What it the world do you think you're doing?"

"Making him work for it, Cara Mia. A little chase whets the appetite, no?" His eyes held no remorse for his actions and you gave in to the pleasure of the dance. You had no idea that he could move with such poise. Shaking your head slightly to clear it, you confront the man again.

“What makes you think your little plan is going to work on him?”

“Believe me it’s working. Can’t you feel that?” Leonardo flicked his eyes briefly over his shoulder relishing the apparent reaction to his little jest.

“Feel what?”

“He’s seething.” Leonardo chuckled like a child as he continued your dance. Dipping you in his arms at just the right angle as if to show off a prize. “What do you think Cara Mia?”

“I think you enjoy playing with fire.”

“Couldn’t agree more.” the all too familiar voice sounded very close causing you both to turn. Le Comte was smiling a smile that failed to reach his eyes, another Mademoiselle in his arms. “Mind if I cut in?”

“Sorry, you’re not my type.” Leonardo shrugged smiling cockily.

“Leo…” Le Comte’s voice was more a beastly growl than before. The challenging flash in his eyes against his friend was like looking into a fire pit. Leonardo conceded smoothly handing you over and taking the other dance partner in turn.

“Not very gentlemanly of you my dear Comte.” Leo clicked his tongue, chastising the other man.

“I can give and share with you everything my friend. Except that which I don’t care to.” Le Comte pulled you harder whisking you away at speed still in keeping with the music but at a much faster tempo.

Somehow you kept pace with him through the end of the song. Leonardo was right, his jest needled the man. Le Comte's grip was a little more possessive, his steps a little faster. Everything he did was a demand for your attention, an unspoken plea that you realize only he was worthy - and able - to make you soar.

When the song ended he guided you off the floor. "Might I interest the lady in some refreshments?"

"And some air, if you please. That last dance took the wind out of me."

"It's not my preferred way to leave you breathless, but it will have to do for now." He murmured into your hair causing your cheeks to go scarlet once again.

After retrieving champagne for each of you, you made your way to the gardens. The night was cool and clear. There was no breeze and the perfume of roses hung in the air.

After a time, you looked at your companion. "By reacting, you're only encouraging him. You realize this, don't you?"

“Whether or not his intention is nothing more than a playful prank, I cannot control myself when I see another man take something that I desire. You might consider me a calm and composed gentleman but I am still a man my dear.” Le Comte’s uncandid honesty had your head spinning more than when you were on the dance floor. It was hard to tell if the champagne had suddenly taken effect on your senses or if it was his words sending your mind into a blissful fog.

Averting your eyes from his seemed like the most sinful crime but when you did you noticed what looked to be a hidden entrance in the shrubbery.

“Whatever do you suppose that is?”

“I would say that it would be the entrance to the labyrinth. The owner of this house was at a time great friends with some german aristocrats and enjoyed tales of their own castle being built to incorporate flights of fantasy. At the centre is said to be something of great wonder and beauty.” Le Comte drew close enough that you could feel his warmth emanating behind you like a shroud protecting you from the night air. His breath tickled your nape as he enquired. “Would the Lady care to view such a thing?”

“I wouldn’t mind but do you really think it appropriate to leave the ball?”

He plucked your now empty glass from your hand placing it on the stone planter near you alongside his and laced his fingers with yours.

“I fear it would be more inappropriate to return under such circumstances. I am not sure how I might react to seeing you gazed upon by so many others tonight.” His tone was amourous and slightly pleading as he lightly tugged your hand and guided you down the stone steps and into the entrance of the dark green foliage.

“I place myself wholly in your hands. Lead on, my lady.” Le Comte stepped aside, keeping hold of your hand and letting you lead the way.

You let the age-old wisdom "Always turn left" guide your steps. Nevertheless, the turns and heady scent of hydrangeas had your head spinning. Every time your fingers brushed a bloom, its perfume filled the air adding a veneer of romance to the evening.

“You know the story of the labyrinth, do you not?” Le Comte breathed the question in your ear sending another delicious shiver down your spine.

“It hails from Crete, doesn’t it?”

“Close but not quite, mon Coeur.” He raises your hand to his lips and nips at the sensitive flesh at your wrist before planting a tender kiss at the same spot. The action stops you in your tracks and you turn, meeting his gaze.

“Was that a punishment for being wrong, or a reward for being right?” The question was breathier than you wanted it to be. You could hear the desire in your own voice. You knew he wouldn’t miss it either.

“Hmm, who knows? Shall we continue or have you had your fill?” his eyes practically glowed in the moonlit evening. Smiling, you turned and continued.

“Tell me the history of the labyrinth.” you did a better job of covering the desire he sparked in you this time.

“It was first designed by Daedalus at Knossos at the behest of King Minos.”

You slowed at the next intersection. “But Knossos is in Crete.” you complain, “So I was right!”

Elegant, gloved fingers trace up the column of your neck and across the shell of your ear. “You only got the country, not the precise location, so you were wrong.”

You wanted to be stern. You wanted to glare at the man for his “precision”, but your traitorous body would do neither of those things. Instead, you tilted your head exposing more of your neck to his caress. A whimper of sound escaped you and he chuckled.

“Do you know why the labyrinth was built, petite Cherie?” his voice was low and his lips grazed your ear as he spoke. You swayed on your feet before resting against the warmth of his broad chest.

“To keep in the minotaur trapped.” your answer was a mere whisper of sound.

“Hmm, just so.” he nipped at your ear. “And while I doubt this particular maze has any minotaurs, I assure you, there is a beast.” The last words were more growl than a statement causing desire to flare in you.

“Should you wish a reward tonight, make the chase sporting, mon Coeur.” with only those words, he released you.

The loss of his heat made the night that much colder. Looking over your shoulder, you saw him take two steps back, a wicked smile on his face. He meant what he said. Looking both ways you lifted your skirts, turned left and ran as fast as you could.

The evening noises were louder to your adrenaline-fueled senses. You swore you saw and heard things but when you looked, nothing was there. Two more left turns and logic took control of your thoughts. Le Comte had been with you all night. If you continued to turn left, there would be no sport in the chase at all. Abandoning your carefully laid plans, you turned right. Every decision from there out was made on instinct. As you reached the junctions, you allowed your feet to lead you...

You’d long since lost track of time and your lungs were burning when you turned left one last time and were faced with the centre of the maze.

Two low stone benches surrounded by planters filled with beautiful flowers framed a cement structure that looked like an enclosed gazebo. Stained glass windows covered the arched openings leaving only one way in and out. Moonlight filtered through the glass painting the inside with a rainbow of soft light. Hesitantly you circled the structure. There was no indication from anywhere on the grounds that something this gorgeous was here. You tried to quiet your ragged breaths as you stepped toward the opening.

“You were serious about making the chase sporting, weren’t you mon Coeur?” His voice stopped you in your tracks on the threshold of the structure.

Glowing eyes in the gloom reached out to you silently guiding you towards them.

“How did you get here before me?”

“Is that really a question you should be asking at a time like this?” A strong arm wrapped around your waist as his face vanished into the crook of your neck. You could feel his slow intake of breath against your skin as he filled his lungs with your scent. “Pauvre petit…” He took the tip of his hot wet tongue and drew a pattern over your exposed neck with it. The river of heat it left behind was as if someone had injected you with fire.

“Ngh… ah--”

“I like that sound.” He chuckled pulling back enough to capture your chin in his hand as he gazed into your eyes. “Will you show me more?” he stroked your jaw with a single finger maintaining his grip. If he slid his hand a little lower he could have covered your throat. There was no doubt in your mind he was completely aware of how fast your heart was hammering in your breast, or that it had nothing to do with the running in the maze.

You had no words his eyes and hand never leaving you just took you with him as he walked backwards, your feet willingly following him.

The folly, for what it was, felt like another world. A private realm just for you and it was yet another reason that your mind struggled to clear itself. Le Comte took a seat on a stone bench nimble fingers undoing his jacket buttons as he did so and patted his thigh.

“Come here.” It was a command. There was no subtle grace or room for refusal. This was all the signal you needed to know that the man before you had switched. Still, you must have hesitated a little too long as you revelled in the change. As soon as you were close enough you found your self grabbed with a little more force than expected. Fingers wrapped around your wrist and forearm as the world tilted and your view became that of the ceiling.

“What are you--?”

“That my love should be my line. What are you doing? You tease and torment me. The way you laugh and smile for other men you think I am immune from such actions affecting me?” His hands left your arms and travelled over your satin clad form. It was strange but even without his grip you still felt unable to move as if something had bound you tight in place.

Your whole body was laid out on the stone slab as he positioned himself over you a knee at either side of your hips and made a show of removing his gloves. He didn’t miss how your eyes followed his movements and smirked. “Such a naughty girl. Were you expecting this tonight perhaps?”

“And if I said I was?” Your breathless reply was almost too much for you. Words never came easy when he was like this. When the gentleman stepped aside allowing the breast to be free.

“Then it would fall upon me as a man not to leave you disappointed. I did say I would not leave you wanting. I am, if nothing else, a man of my word.” He removed your gloves and placed his lips on each of your fingers giving everyone a small nip causing you to purr in delight.

He watched in fascination as you struggled to keep your mind anchored at something so simple. While you were focused on him you felt the creeping sensation of something else between your legs. His hand had slipped under your skirt without you realising it. He was far too good at this for it to be a mistake. Leonardo’s words from when you first arrived surfaced in your mind “you weren’t always a gentleman.” And here you were experiencing a glimpse of that darker side first hand.

You tried to bring your hands up to him only to have him push them back and hold them easily one-handed as he continued to search the depth of your dress. “Now now be a good girl. Damn but you’re beautiful.” He brought his face to our neck again. This time he allowed his fangs to graze your skin very faint red lines appeared on your ivory flesh and the guttural moan you gave out had you blushing. “You smell so good. It’s intoxicating…”

As he said that he pulled your underwear to the side and plunged his long fingers inside you, twisting, rubbing, curling. Every retraction had you whimpering and every penetration had your mind sparking like fireworks. But you knew all too well this was nothing to the main event. His lips kissed a trail to your lobe pulling on it and then continuing to kiss along your jawline until they found your mouth.

Inviting him deeper, you parted your lips and had them captured hungrily by your love. Your tongue danced with his catching slightly on his fangs a familiar taste of rouge filling your senses which only fueled his actions further.

There was no way you would be moving your body even if by some grace of god you could at this point. The hand keeping a pace with piston-like precision between your thighs had not stopped and you felt yourself climbing higher up that staircase to heaven. Your back arched against his chest and as he pulled back to get a good look at your face you noticed his lips stained with rouge making them look even more enticing.

He traced a finger from your wrist to your bodice before locating the ribbons binding it and releasing them. The cold air slithered over your exposed body but only for as long as it took for him to bring his hand to your chest. His thumb rubbing over your hardened peaks gentle pulling and twisting them causing you to moan into his mouth as he swooped in for another kiss.

It was bad. This was wrong you knew it in the back of your mind that you shouldn’t be doing something so scandalous here. But you also didn’t wish to stop, and apparently, you were not alone in your desire to continue.

“You have no idea what you do to me. Ugh… that scent. Do you know that when your body temperature rises your natural scent gets stronger? Mon Cher. I’m sorry but I don’t think I can stop now.”

You had no words because his had caused your mind to blank. You bodice had been completely freed and was lying open on the ground. Your skirt and petticoats were bundled high revealing your garter belt and stocking tops along with your soaked undergarments. You forced the embarrassment down as you held his gaze and nodded your consent. You didn’t mind what happened now. As long as it was him you would do anything.

His movements were fluid and exacting. But there was a rushed neediness to it all. It was as if he believed you would vanish at any given moment and he was doing everything to try to keep you with him. His hands roamed creating burning pathways everywhere they touched. His tongue danced with yours when it wasn’t lapping at your tender flesh on your neck and chest.

When he was almost at his limit of being sane enough to know what was happening and mad enough to do it anyway, he threw caution to the wind and sank his length inside you. The rocking of his hips alternated between fast and slow. He would pull almost out before plunging back in with force causing you to wail as his will took you to the edge and harled you off again and again. Your vision went white and then you felt as if you were floating.

Birds chirping outside was what woke you. Sunlight falling through your bedroom window landed on you in your bed at the mansion and for a few minutes, you were caught somewhere between dream and reality. Your hand reached up to your neck past your silk negligee. A dull throbbing pain greeted you there telling you all you needed to know. It wasn’t a dream.

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lextherandlxce · 5 years

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Oh man thank you so much for answering my ask! I still am into Longmire, and Branch remains my favorite character, and you are so right about people not looking long enough to see what a great guy he is! Now you’ve got me hooked though, haha! What are your headcanons for Branch’s hobbies? What’s his taste in books and music? Does he like scary movies? Dogs or cats? CAN HE SING? (I’m a sucker for a man that can sing) you write for him so beautifully that I just wanna know more haha! Thanks love!

{ You are so welcome! And thank you for sending another one!! I can’t tell you how excited I was to see all these questions for Branch omg :3 Feel free to send anything you want about Branch. I’d love to keep talking about our boy with you! Also, thank you so so much. I’m so happy that you enjoy the way I write Branch ! }

Branch’s hobbies tend to be pretty Wyoming typical. He loves camping, fishing, hunting. He loves to go swimming in different rivers. He’s not a huge fan of swimming pools. He prefers to be out in nature. He, of course, loves riding his mare to clear his head. He used to be a bronc rider before he became a deputy, so sometimes he likes to go visit his old friends who are still involved in the rodeo circuit. And occasionally, he’ll take up the invitation of a ride. He still needs a good rush of adrenaline from time to time. He also tries to volunteer with animal shelters. He hates seeing animals abused or neglected, so when he was younger he loved going to take care of them. His father hated him doing it. He thought it made Branch look weak. Branch never cared what his father said about it, but since he’s become a deputy, he doesn’t have too much time anymore. He’ll do his best to attend an adoption day or donate large amounts during the holiday seasons though. Overall, I think Branch’s biggest hobby is simply to build things. He loves doing things around the house (like putting in a new deadbolt for Cady). Any home improvement project is something he’ll gladly take on. Anything that lets him use his hands. He really wants to learn more about carpentry. He has basic knowledge and can build basic things, but he wants to be able to create really beautiful woodworks.

Branch is a total classic rock guy. It’s the music he grew up with, and he loves it just as much as when he was a kid. He doesn’t listen to country. He doesn’t want to be that much of a walking cliche. He doesn’t really ever listen to new music either unless he just happens to be where it’s playing. But classic rock and sometimes old school funk are his jams. If you want a few examples of songs Branch loves, listen to Leroy Brown by Jim Croce. But Branch loves every song by Jim Croce. ( @peritxetxinvenit I can’t lie, Leroy Brown reminds me very much of Vic xD ). But he also loves songs like What a Fool Believes by the Doobie Brothers. Okay, if I’m not careful I’ll wind up making an entire playlist of songs Branch likes! But for some more recent songs, Branch likes Mr. Brightside by The Killers and Somebody That I Used To Know by Gotye.

Now, can Branch sing....? YES. Yes, Branch can sing. And he can sing very well. When he listens to any of the songs I’ve listed above in his truck, omg, does this boy belt it out. One thing that always helps put him in a better mood is to get in his truck, drive down a quiet road, roll the windows down, blast music he loves, and sing along to it. Now while Branch can sing, he never let’s anyone hear him. He’d be mortified if anyone heard. He doesn’t realize that he has a wonderful voice, and he feels like a fool at the idea of people hearing him sing. He doesn’t even hum to himself or silently lip-sing to songs he likes with other people around. He won’t even sing in his own house because he’s worried someone might come to visit and overhear. However, after a couple of beers and with someone he really cares about, they might be able to get him to sing a little tune for them. An aside note, Branch had a couple of piano lessons when he was young, but he hated it and his father never made him pursue it. He can’t play any instruments, though he’d like to learn to play the guitar.

Branch is a very intelligent man, and he’s actually an avid reader. Some people might think of him as the dumb high school quarter back, but he’s not stupid despite loving sports. During high school, he read a great many classic novels. He actually loved them all. It shames him to no end, but when Walt lent him Hound of the Baskervilles in order to chastise him, Branch did indeed take the book home and very carefully read it. He learned a lot from it and thoroughly enjoyed the story. But because his job demands a lot of his time, he doesn’t ever feel like he has the time to read many novels anymore. Branch is at a point where he’d want to get through a book in an afternoon. So he doesn’t read novels or novellas, instead, he reads plays! Plays as old as Oedipus Rex to contemporary plays. He enjoys that they’re quick reads, but he also has a lot of fun making his imagination work to visualize everything. He actually much prefers reading plays instead of going to watch them. And because of his Uncle Lucian’s talent for writing poetry, Branch will always go buy a collection of poetry based on whoever his uncle recommends he reads.

Branch loves scary movies! They’re one of his favorite kinds of movies. Yet as often as he watches them, he’s not often truly impressed by them. He hates cheap jump scares. He loves the old school horror movies, no matter how camp they are. Evil Dead, Friday the 13th, Nightmare on Elm Street, and Chucky to name a few. All the cult classics that had phenomenal horrifying originals. He never bothers with any sequels. He doesn’t really care much for blood and guts in movies. In fact, he’d like to get away from that once he’s out of work. His favorite kind of horror movies have good characters, strong plot lines, and a sense of unease that builds and builds until it’s intolerable. Though I will say, he’ll never watch horror movies alone.

And here’s a little headcanon near and dear to me that almost ties into the last one. He’s not a coward by any means, but having grown up in close proximity to the Cheyenne reservation has influenced his belief in frightening creatures and spirituality as a whole. While Branch says he doesn’t believe in ghosts or goblins of any sort, he feels it’s best not to push his luck with any possible malevolent entities or cryptid creatures. When Vic Moretti mentioned having her tarot cards read, he actually thought she was pretty brave. He was being honest about never having had them done because he’s a guy in the middle of Wyoming. But I do imagine after that, Victoria would have really tried to get him to go with her for a reading. He would have flatly refused, and it’s because he would be afraid. He’d be afraid of knowing something bad was coming his way and he’d be helpless to stop it. For Branch, he’d rather not see the snake in the grass until he’s bit rather than to know it’s there and know he’s trapped.

And last but not least, Branch loves cats and dogs!!! He never had any pets other than horses growing up, and he doesn’t have one now. He’d really like to have a pet, but he worries he wouldn’t be fair to them by working all the time. But he adores dogs and cats equally. He loves that a dog can go anywhere with him and be an outdoor companion. And when he visits people who have cats, the kitties tend to take to his lap instantly. He loves cuddling with a kitty inside, but he doesn’t like how their fur gets everywhere. And usually it’s so fine that it makes him sneeze terribly compared to dog fur. He likes to think that once he’s Sheriff or even retired from the Sheriff’s department, he’ll adopt a dog and a cat.

{Thank you again for all these questions, my sweet! Please feel free to send in any more you have about Branch. I don’t mind answering anything about him. It all helps me flesh out how I want to write him. I hope this was an enjoyable read, and thank you again for your support of my writing!}

#;branch #;headcanon #;headcanons #branch connally #{i will love this cowboy to the day i die <3 }#ashomee

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oceansinthedesert · 4 years

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Mister Moon (reader insert, celestial deity with questionable morals)

Summary: In the fictional country of Etram, the beginning of an era of peace gives way to an interest in science and a thirst for understanding of the world. Astronomers cast their gaze to the vastness of space in an effort to understand the planets; in turn, they are the chosen people of the sun deity Suna and the moon deity Manon. You proudly call yourself an astronomer; at night, when you’ve put your daughter to bed, you take notes on the moon.

Author’s note: This is a fictional world but I drew inspiration from ancient Greece and its pantheon. Be warned that Manon (the love interest) does some bad things, but not graphic or triggering content type of things. Please let me know what you think!!

“Mama, look!” Your daughter Lizel grabbed your wrist, excitedly pointing at the sky with her other hand. “The Moon is out!”

“Do you want to sing to him with me?” you asked.

“Why do we sing to the Moon again?” Lizel, at the age of nine, didn’t yet grasp the concept of worshiping their patron deity.

“Because Manon is not supposed to be in the sky when the Sun is out,” you began patiently. “He’s supposed to stay asleep until Suna is ready to end the day. If the Moon is out during the day, it means something has awoken Manon, so we sing to him to lull him back to sleep until it is his turn.”

Satisfied, your daughter parted her lips to sing the song she’d been taught, her youthful voice blending with yours: “Mister Moon, Mister Moon, you’re out too soon. The Sun is still in the sky. Go back to bed and cover up your head, and wait til the day goes by.”

After that, the two of you finished your afternoon walk. When you returned to your villa, your husband Dante greeted you with a peck on the forehead. Then he swept Lizel into his arms, saying, “How’s my little Lizzie?”

She giggled and told him that they’d seen the Moon out. Then he told you both about his day at work. He was a professor at the town’s university. You were a well-matched couple: him, the scholar; you, the astronomer. Between his studies and yours, your home was cluttered with books and notes.

A few hours later, the Sun set. It was time to put Lizel to bed. You and Dante sat on each side of the bed to tell her a bedtime story. Tonight’s tale was about the great warrior who banished the monsters that terrorized their lands. He pretended to be a giant troll- ‘attacking’ her by tickling her.

“Help, help! A monster is attacking me,” she giggled, glancing at you.

“I’ll rescue you!” you declared. You pretended to pull out a mighty sword. You and Dante ‘fought’, poking each other with your fingers. Then you prodded him in the chest, and he pretended to die in the most dramatic fashion possible. “You are safe now, my lady.”

“And that is why the western constellation is called the Bravest Warrior,” he said. Since you were both academically inclined, every story was concluded with a miniature lesson.

“That’s my new favorite story,” Lizel muttered, her eyes beginning to droop. You kissed her head and tucked her in. Together, you and your husband left your precious angel’s room.

“Don’t be too long, darling. I long to wrap you up in my arms as soon as I can. After all, a big spoon is nothing without his little spoon.”

“I think I shall take all night as revenge for the previous night, when you left me all alone to finish reading the pamphlet on the most recent Gathering of Great Minds.”

He stuck his lips out in a childish pout, his sea-green eyes gazing at her like a puppy begging for a bone. He took her hands in his, whining, “Pleeeasee?”

“Fine, you big man-child. I’ll be back within the next hour or so,” you huffed fondly. Gathering your notebook- after kissing your lover, of course- you made the journey to the observatory in your back yard.

It was not much, especially in comparison to the wealthy astronomers who could afford the latest instruments. It was a simple building with stairs that lead up to the observation deck. You had a telescope that was neither the best quality nor poor enough to be complained about.

Before you gazed into the eyepiece, you said your customary prayer to the moon deity: “Oh Manon, Lord of the Moon. I thank you for your blessings over both my family and my pursuits of astronomy. I humbly ask you once again to bestow knowledge of your realm upon me.”

You sketched the Moon’s shape tonight. Your contemporaries had yet to come up with an explanation for the Moon’s ability to shift its appearance. Each page of your notebook was dated, containing the shape of the Moon and what the tides were like on the given day. Connecting the tides to the great celestial body was a monumental discovery, but people were hesitant to give you credit for it due to your gender.

“Your drawings of my domain are impeccable,” a new voice commented from behind you.

You knew who the stranger was before you even turned to face him. The man’s voice- hell, his aura alone- radiated power. You knelt at his feet, reverently saying, “Lord Manon.”

“On your feet, dear scholar. I want to see the face of my most devoted follower.” He pulled you to your feet. He grabbed your chin, turning your face left and right; you wanted to shrink under his gaze. Scrutinizing you with galaxy-colored eyes, he murmured, “You are the most beautiful mortal woman I’ve ever met.”

In other circumstances, you would’ve been a stuttering, blushing mess as you tried to thank him for the compliment. What came out of your mouth instead was, “The paintings of you are wrong.”

“Hmm, yes. I don’t make it a habit to meet with humans. You, princess, are an exception.” His words were accompanied by an odd expression when he said humans: a disgusted grimace that you thankfully didn’t notice, caught up as you were in your thoughts. He noticed that you were writing as you talked. It was like your hand moved independently of your brain.

“You’re supposed to be pale because of all the time you spend in the dark. Why are you so tan?” His skin was olive-toned, as if he spent his days out in a field.

“My lady, what do you think happens to the Moon when the Sun comes out?”

“Well, I have some hypotheses, but the Head of Celestial Studies says they don’t have strong enough evidence to-”

“Take no heed of what that ignorant bastard says!” he interrupted. When he realized his outburst scared you, he used his calm voice again. “Ahem, what I meant to say is, would you like to come with me? I can confirm or deny your theories while I give you a tour of my castle.”

Excitement filled your (e/c) eyes. It took lots of willpower to keep yourself from jumping like a child.

“I would be honored! Oh, but... I must alert my husband of our departure. Dante gets worried when he doesn’t know where I am.”

“I’m afraid I’m not a very patient man. I’m leaving now, so you won’t have the time. You are too smart to let this opportunity pass by. I’m sure your husband will be fine without you for one night.”

A flicker of doubt ran across your face; nevertheless, you nodded your head eagerly. He was right- this was the chance of a lifetime.

“Good choice, (Y/n). Now close your eyes and trust me.”

You did as Lord Manon said. He chanted a blessing of some sort, leaving a pinprick of cold where his finger touched the center of your forehead. Then you felt like someone had ripped the ground from beneath your feet.

When your world finally stabilized, you opened your eyes to observe your new surroundings. You were in the foyer of an elegant castle. You curled your bare toes against the plush carpet that was decorated with the vines of a plant you didn’t recognize. A beautiful chandelier twinkled overhead. The furniture was polished mahogany; this room alone cost more than your entire house.

“Well? First impressions?”

“Your castle is very lovely!” Realizing you sounded pathetically eager, you cleared your throat. “I mean, yes, I like your home.”

“So excited already, and you haven’t even seen the library yet,” he chuckled. He locked elbows with you and walked farther into his abode.

You saw servants in silver outfits carrying out their duties. They stopped to stare at you as you passed by, and admittedly you stared right back. They glowed, not as intensely as Manon, but in a way that marked them as inhuman.

“Don’t mind their prying eyes. I don’t host many guests. So, you never answered my question: where does the Moon go when the Sun comes into the sky?” He held the door for you, gently nudging you into his spacious library.

The celestial deity’s question was completely ignored in favor of the shelves upon shelves of books. He found it cute the way your (e/c) eyes gleamed as you scanned over the spines. You gasped at all the rare tomes: some of these works were thought to be lost! “I must take notes!”

“Pacryl, Amos, Laemo,” you whispered, awestruck, as you recorded the names of historic authors in your notebook.

“My question, princess,” Manon breathed in your ear.

You whipped around, instantly stammering out apologies. You were in the presence of a god, for goodness sake! “Yes, my lord, where the Moon goes... I believe you transport this kingdom to the other side of the Earth. That’s also where the Sun goes when your domain is on my side. It would explain why the Sun sets in the west and rises in the east. But the problem is that it doesn’t explain how the two bodies move, or what exactly they’re made of...”

“You are partially right, you smart little thing. My home is on the big rock you see in the night sky, and I do move around your Earth. The phases you have sketched in that little diary of yours are a result of the Sun’s light bouncing off of me at different times during my orbit. I am so tan because the Moon reflects the Sun’s rays.”

He began twirling a piece of your hair around his finger. Although it made you uncomfortable, you ignored it for the sake of your notes.

“However, your theory doesn’t account for the Earth’s motion as well. You have Day and Night because your planet rotates counterclockwise on its axis. You have the seasons because it orbits the Sun.”

Shock made you grip your charcoal writing utensil so hard that the wood snapped. You didn’t care that splinters were digging into your hands as you exclaimed, “That goes against everything astronomers thought we’ve learned! The Sun doesn’t move around the Earth? The Headmaster was right, I’m not smart enough to do this...”

A low growl rumbled from his chest; he didn’t like you saying such negative things about yourself. Every human on Earth thought they were the center of the universe, so you shouldn’t beat yourself up like that. However, concern quickly outweighed his anger when he noticed the irritated scrapes on your otherwise unblemished hand.

“You’re hurt,” he stated bluntly. He grabbed your hand, gently removing wooden shards from your (s/t) flesh. When he was certain your hand was splinter-free, he softly kissed the marks. You watched in awe as the angry red lines faded away. “All better. Now let’s get you something new to write with.”

After a maid brought you the feather of an exotic bird and a pot of expensive purple ink, you tentatively asked, “Could I draw you?”

Manon’s plump lips curled up in a smirk. He perched regally upon a chair, giving you a good pose. “Do you need an image of my handsome face to remind you of your visit to the Moon?”

His jovial tone was laced with darker intentions. You wouldn’t need a picture of him to see his face soon enough- you would be with him in person every day in a short amount of time.

You just giggled in response. You started with his face: the sharp lines of his jaws, his enticing lips, his defined nose. He didn’t blink- which was unsettling- allowing you to get his eyes just right. You used swooping lines to depict the waves of his brunette hair. Although you felt indecent doing so, you admired his broad shoulders as you sketched them.

Realizing you were getting red in the face, you abruptly put the quill down. Married women are only supposed to ogle their husbands!

“Done. Thank you for allowing me to draw you, and for bringing me into your home. Though now I believe it is time that I return to mine. Your company is an honor, but Dante must be pulling out his hair by now,” you said with the politest voice you could. You didn’t want to seem ungrateful for the hospitality he’d shown you.

“I suppose it is getting rather late. Suna will know I’ve brought you here if you’re still in my realm by dawn, and I do not feel like getting reprimanded by my older brother right now. Close your eyes please, my lady.”

You were prepared for the world to crumble around you this time. The sight of your backyard greeted you when you opened your eyes. Manon was next to you, wearing an expression you couldn’t understand. It was times like this that you wished people were as easy to read as books.

“I suppose this is goodbye.” For now.

“Goodbye, Lord Manon.”

You curtsied, on the brink of saying one last thank you, when a panicked voice cried out, “(Y/n)!”

A blur of beige nightclothes shot out of the door, Dante wrapping his arms around you. He was shaking as he held you. He kept mumbling the word ‘worried’ into the crook of your neck.

“Dante, I’m fine,” you reassured him, forcing him to look at you. You caressed his tear-stained cheeks. “I took a trip to the Moon! Oh, let me introduce you to Lord Manon! Ah, he left fast...”

“We can talk about...whatever it is that happened to you in the morning. Let’s get you to bed for now,” he said, tugging you towards the back entrance of your house.

You glanced over your shoulder one last time, smiling at the Moon. Far away, unbeknownst to you, the deity of the Moon smiled back.

#oc x reader #reader insert #manon the moon deity #my ocs #married!reader #reblogs>likes #helpful criticism is welcome

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ts1989fanatic · 4 years

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Taylor Swift And The End Of An Era

Love her or hate her, Taylor Swift embodied the contradictions of the decade in pop music

“I’m so sick of running as fast as I can,” Taylor Swift sings in the chorus of “The Man,” a song from her latest album, Lover. She chose the up-tempo tune to open her “Artist of the Decade” medley at the AMAs last month, and it’s a return to familiar Swiftian themes; she claps back at unspecified, sexist critics who fail to acknowledge her “good ideas and power moves.”

Whatever one might think of Swift’s underdog complex, it’s not surprising that the end of the 2010s finds her exhausted. Her transformation from tween country sensation to tabloid-friendly pop star to polarizing Twitter talking point and, finally, to celebrity supernova, required — at the very least — plenty of stamina.

There’s no question that straight white femininity still occupies a privileged place in the cultural landscape, which helped pave the way for Swift’s rise and decade-long pop dominance — even as she became a zeitgeisty symbol of that privilege and a target for those seeking to contest it. Yet as many of her similarly situated peers have faltered, she has endured as one of the last pop behemoths of her kind.

Time and again Swift strategically read and rode the decade’s cultural waves, deciding not just which trends and genres to jump on but, perhaps more importantly, what to pass on. As pop music became feud-centric reality television, there was Taylor; as stan culture transformed the way listeners interacted with performers (and each other), there was Taylor; as artists’ rights in the streaming era entered the conversation, there was Taylor; as politics infiltrated music, there was (sort of, eventually) Taylor.

There are definitely plenty of other contenders for Artist of the Decade (a title both the AMAs and Billboard recently bestowed on Swift) — artists who have hugely impacted pop music over the past 10 years and managed to ride out the seismic, industry-wide shifts they’ve contained, from Beyoncé to Lady Gaga to Kanye West. But you don’t have to think Swift was the “best” or even most significant artist of the decade to acknowledge that her cultural domination, and her ability to pivot and reinvent herself, captured many of the defining tensions of pop music over the last decade.

It’s hard to remember (in internet years) that before 2010, Swift was just a teen pop star and not yet a cultural lightning rod. She was already taken seriously as a musician and had plenty of cultural capital coming into the decade; in 2009, having already won Artist of the Year at the AMAs, she was about to accept a Video Music Award for Female Video of the Year when Kanye infamously interrupted her speech. In early 2010, she won Album of the Year for Fearless at the Grammy Awards, beating out Beyoncé and Lady Gaga.

Her early stardom revolved mostly around the fact that she was a precocious young country artist who wrote her own songs, without the risqué edge or sexy-but-wholesome cognitive dissonance of someone like an early Britney Spears to worry white parents and inspire pearl-clutching tabloid magazine covers. And it wasn’t really until Speak Now — when Swift was already a mainstream star but still categorized as country — that she began teasing the media and her fans about the ways her autobiographical lyrics mapped onto her real life, especially regarding the men she was dating.

People are still wondering whether Alanis Morissette’s “You Oughta Know” is about Uncle Joey, so it was startling for a young woman songwriter and musical celebrity of her commercial reach to use her songs to consistently craft such intimate stories about such equally public men, including Joe Jonas, Taylor Lautner, and John Mayer. And there was something uniquely bold about the way Swift started using her confessional songwriting and melodic sensibility to “get the last word” on her relationships, as People magazine framed it in her first cover story.

People hardly batted an eye in 2018 when Ariana Grande’s first No. 1 hit, “Thank U, Next,” literally name-checked her list of ex-boyfriends, and that’s in no small part because of Swift. Because even as reality TV stars like the Kardashians and Real Housewives were figuring out how to create multiplatform storytelling through social media, Swift was already pioneering the strategy in the big pop machine. Yes, she opportunistically used this to shame exes, create fodder for talk shows, and garner magazine covers; and even then, it raised some hackles about the way she was using her power. But it was undeniably compelling theater, and even nonfans were watching.

That multiplatform mixture of music and drama wouldn’t have succeeded without the undeniably catchy earworms Swift’s diary entries were wrapped in, or without the devoted fanbase of Swifties that she cultivated online. This all helped her break chart records with her most explicitly pop albums, including 2012’s Red and 2014’s ’80s-inspired 1989. The latter garnered the biggest first-week sales for a pop album since Britney Spears in 2002, helping Swift keep the tradition of the monocultural pop star alive.

But as Swift’s music saturated airwaves, and her willingness to tease behind-the-scenes details of her life in her songs moved beyond ex-boyfriends like Harry Styles (“Style”) into swatting at other pop stars like Katy Perry (“Bad Blood”) the public began to sour on Swift’s strategic use of her personal life in her music. (To Swift’s credit as a performer, no other pop star could sing the lyrics “Band-Aids don’t fix bullet holes” about a dispute over a backup dancer with a straight face.)

Juxtaposed with Swift’s self-celebrating “girl squad” feminism, her opportunism — and seeming hypocrisy — started to rankle. By 2015, even racist sympathizer and critic Camille Paglia came out of the woodwork to anoint Swift a “Nazi barbie,” calling out her tendency to treat friends as props. And all these contradictions of Swift’s persona would come to a head when Swift’s seemingly buried feud with Kanye came roaring back the following year.

It makes sense that her clash with Kanye and Kim Kardashian West became the first time she experienced a real backlash. Unlike the drama around her dating life or with Perry, it was the first time Swift was up against equally savvy adversaries — celebrities who, like her, were professionals at merging their public and private lives.

The fight was a meta moment by design, inspired by West’s song “Famous,” where he raps: “I made that bitch famous.” In retrospect, it seems clear that West, as much a publicity-seeking pop diva as Swift, was trying to get the last word after going on an apology tour about the interruption heard round the world. Swift claimed to be annoyed over what she saw as the song’s credit-taking message, and she tried to make it part of her own narrative. “I want to say to all the young women out there,” she intoned in her speech accepting a Grammy for Album of the Year in February 2016, “there are going to be people along the way who will try to undercut your success or take credit for your accomplishments or your fame.”

In another era, Swift’s storyline might have won the day. Her publicist denied that she had approved the line in the song, despite Kanye’s claim that he had checked with her before releasing it. But celebrity narratives, to some degree, were no longer being decided just by white-dominated mainstream media. Black publications were the first to tease out the racial undertones of Swift’s lie in the ensuing “he said, she said,” specifically as a white woman playing on the ingrained sympathy and benefit of the doubt that white women are given in US culture.

Still, it wasn’t until Kim’s Snapchat leak that July — where Swift could be heard approving the song — that the Swift-as-victim narrative became a framework for understanding her entire career. Contemporary white pop stars like Grande and Miley Cyrus had faced musical appropriation backlashes, but this time it was Swift’s entire persona — not just her music — that were under scrutiny.

Swift’s memeable response to the leak — “I would very much like to be excluded from this narrative” — was followed by her own disappearance from the media landscape. By the time the 2016 election happened — amid the chatter about white women’s complicity in electing Trump — Swift’s refusal to take a political stand solidly cast her as a cultural villain, and her symbolism as an icon of toxic white womanhood was sealed.

If the clamor of social media (especially Twitter) was central to the Swift backlash, it was also central to her eventual resurgence. Over the past decade, social media (especially Instagram) has tipped the scales in celebrity coverage and helped celebrities tell their stories on their own terms, almost without intermediaries. Swift knew how to use that to her advantage and decided to play the long game.

By refusing interviews for 18 months, wiping her social media clean, and focusing on cultivating her Tumblr fanbase, Swift removed herself from the cultural conversation for a beat. This kind of brand management helped her keep an ear to the ground while in a self-imposed exile. But it’s as if the culture couldn’t stop conjuring her; rumors about her absence spread, including that she had traveled around inside a suitcase.

In August 2017, she wiped her social media clean and reappeared with a snake video — reclaiming the serpent emojis — in what was ultimately the announcement for her Reputation album, and which remains one of the most iconic social media rollouts ever. “Look What You Made Me Do,” the lead single, was endlessly memed — Swift couldn’t come to the phone, a perfect metaphor for her cultural disappearance and, perhaps, a kind of ghostly remake of the Kanye call. The album succeeded because it seemed as though Swift was finally open to owning her melodrama and messiness. She subsequently broke records with the tour and album sales.

Still, her political silence was affecting her image and music. By 2018, insipid corporate wokeness had become the order of the day, and Swift Inc. again pivoted musically and culturally. Swift came out for the Democratic candidates in the 2018 midterms, framing her support in terms of LGBTQ rights and racial justice. And this year, the second single from her latest album, Lover — “You Need to Calm Down” — was a perfect encapsulation of her politics of messiness, conflating anti-gay prejudice with Twitter drama. (And somehow turning the video into a celebration of pop queens supporting each other). This fall, she has made sure to include über-stan–turned–pop star (and video coproducer) Todrick Hall at her awards show moments, attempting to expand the range of racial and sexual identities included in what used to be her mostly straight white “girl squad” feminism.

For all of Swift’s success at updating her persona, she’s never quite regained her massive radio dominance — but no pop star can depend on the success of singles for over a decade. In fact, Swift is one of the most interesting figures of the decade because her stardom is caught between the old-school era of album buying and our current streaming moment.

And, inevitably, Swift has turned her own industry issues around streaming and artistic ownership into a wider commentary on artists’ rights — which happens to work as a canny form of further brand management. She framed herself as an ethical businesswoman when she called out Apple for not paying artists, and she battled with Spotify over streaming royalties but without really pushing for wider systemic industry change.

Earlier this year, Swift started a new artist-versus-industry fight about her music masters being bought out from under her by nemesis Scooter Braun. It’s a complicated story, one that Swift has framed as being about “toxic male privilege,” and the fact that Braun mocked her during the Kanye era — once again blurring, in her trademark mode, the personal with the public and the systemic with the individual.

Instead of being seen as opportunistic, Swift seems to have succeeded in framing her campaign as a fight for unsigned and less powerful artists’ rights, which has resonated at a moment where content creators are all pitted against the 1% of the tech and corporate worlds. This time, even Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez — a squad member any star would envy — backed her up.

Swift’s response to being anointed Artist of the Decade by the AMAs and Billboard provides interesting insight into how she sees herself now and where she thinks the next decade is going. She chose Carole King, one of the preeminent symbols of pop music authenticity, to present her AMA, squarely placing herself in a genealogy of great women singer-songwriters. She also enlisted shiny next-gen pop stars Camila Cabello and Halsey to join her during her performance of old hits.

In her Billboard speech, Swift name-checked newer stars like Lizzo, Becky G, and Billie Eilish as the future of the industry. Tellingly, they are women who, so far, have not played into the tabloidy pop dramas that dominated the 2010s. If this decade has shown us anything, it’s that blurring public and private through music can reap big rewards, but it also opens up stars — especially the women of pop — to more intense scrutiny and a higher degree of personal accountability.

In a Billboard interview looking back on the decade, Swift spoke about her relationship to fame and learning to hold things back. “I didn’t quite know what exactly to ... share and what to protect. I think a lot of people go through that, especially in the last decade,” she said. “There was this phase where social media felt fun and casual and quirky and safe. And then it got to the point where everyone has to evaluate their relationship with social media. So I decided that the best thing I have to offer people is my music.”

Like Lana Del Rey denying she ever had a persona, or Lady Gaga stripping down with Joanne, there seems to come a point when white pop divas need to declare themselves authentic and all about the music — as if their ongoing narratives aren’t part of the show. But the way Swift used her image and the never-ending soap opera that swirled around her to make space for her music in an increasingly saturated attention economy was itself a kind of art. ●

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yogaadvise · 5 years

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Top yoga book recommendations

Esther Ekhart

Your body Your Yoga by Bernie Clark - So much greater than makeup publication. It's composed from the viewpoint that we are as different on the inside as we are on the outside as well as the value of practising yoga exercise from an useful technique, according to the range of movement provided by our very own distinct body.

Living Dharma, the flavour of freedom, Quantity 4 by Burgs - Bringing the Buddha's teachings to life, revealing that they are just as relevant today as they were 2500 years ago.

I am that by Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj - an old standard that every serious yogi interested in achieving knowledge ought to read.

Julie Martin

What is Fascia as well as Why it Matters by David Lesondak - The initial publication to truly give a clear picture for everybody concerning fascia and its properties and also why we really require to start collaborating with this knowledge. You don't need to be a researcher or composition nerd to understand this publication as David has a fantastic, casual design of composing as well as clarifies what he's discussing really clearly. A must-read if you educate yoga!

Awakening the Back by Vanda Scaravelli - A lovely publication created by a leader in the yoga exercise globe. Her job wasn't really fashionable in the early years of the yoga exercise boom, but numerous even more individuals are headed in that direction now. Vanda is accountable for the quote, 'We require to deal with the body, not versus it'.

Healing the Core Injury of Unworthiness by Adyashanti - An amazing book for everyone, as our culture is plagued with the concept that we are not 'worthy'. Adyashanti is a spiritual non-dualistic educator who brings an obtainable high quality to how we can regard as well as ultimately stay in the suggestion of oneness.

James Reeves

Tantra Lit Up by Christopher Wallis - An extremely comprehensive explanation of how Tantra educates most of our modern techniques of yoga

Finding Quality by Jeru Kabbal - Clear, verbalize and stunning. This is the instructor of Esther's initially instructor [Taetske Kleijn] and it's a publication that touched my heart deeply.

Yoga and the Quest for real Self by Stephen Cope - A great read and a terrific tale of the trip right into the globe of yoga

I Touch by John Prendergast - A truly charming review inviting and also being totally attached with our internal globe of thoughts and feelings.

Anat Geiger

Yoga related: God talks with Arjuna, Yogananda's discourse of the Bhagavad Gita. The job he has actually done is astonishing and there is sufficient motivation below for lots of life times. An additional Gita variation I like is Eknath Easwaran's translation. Beautiful.

Also, anything by Vivekananda. He is incredibly straightforward and also extremely motivating. Whenever I read something by him I feel he eliminates some coat of justifications as well as reasons I indulge in as well as reaches me ideal where it most matters. Raja Yoga - his own commentary on the Sutras of Patanjali - leaves me inspired and also amazed every time.

Poetry: Kabir! Stunning as well as informed. There is so much surprise meaning, delicacy as well as beauty in his words. I obtained a publication with 44 of his thrilled poems from my instructors and I prize it deeply. Here's one of my favourites: Are you looking for me? I am in the next seat. My shoulder is pushed against yours. You will not discover me in stupas, not in Indian shrine rooms, neither in synagogues, neither in basilicas: not in masses, neither kirtans, not in legs winding around your own neck, nor in consuming only vegetables. When you actually search for me, you will certainly see me quickly - you will find me in the smallest home of time. Kabir claims: Trainee, tell me, what is God? He is the breath inside the breath.

How awesome is that?

Buddhism I enjoy the works of Pema Chodron. She is an American Buddhist religious woman with enormous concern, a scrumptious sense of humour as well as a talent with words.

Fiction: I was deeply relocated as well as impressed by Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell. It spans numerous lives and lifetimes (in my view) as well as for me it was everything about Karma. It's an intricate book and also worth every effort. Every from time to time I indulge in well-written fantasy stories - excellent v. wicked kind of fights and also challenges!

Marlene Henny

Moving right into Tranquility by Erich Schiffmann - Wonderfully created as well as quickly reaches the heart of what practising yoga exercise has to do with in easy to understand terms (without all the fluffy brand-new age things). The photographs as well as descriptions of the asanas are clear as well as understandable. I reference it regularly for my own practice as well as for teaching. Get it, read it, like it!

Yoga Spandakarika - The Sacred Texts at the Beginnings of Tantra by Daniel Odier Daniel Odier is a great author as well as his take on the Spandakarika is a lot easier to recognize than several various other translations. What I such as concerning this publication that it that provides an interesting viewpoint and enough info about the actual philosophy of Tantra and also leaves enough location for self-interpretation of the sacred text.

Awakening Shakti: The Transformative Power of the Goddesses of Yoga by Sally Kempton - I discovered SO much concerning Hindu sirens, as well as the writer offers the information in an available and compelling way. Each phase, which follows the very same layout, is centred around a specific goddess and consists of reflections to help the reader materialize the goddess as well as her energy. The feminine powers of the world are so interesting. Even assuming regarding them just a tiny little bit as well as taking advantage of them at all can be profound. Certainly recommended!

David Lurey

The Gleam Sutras, translation and discourse by Loren Roche - A heavy poetic present of consciousness and also living a liberated life.

Dying to be Me by Anita Moorjani - A real 'life after death' story that brings a beautiful point of view on the gift of life as well as exactly how to maintain points basic. This publication also offers attractive insights on just how to make challenging choices and also how to keep those we absolutely love in our hearts

A Brief Background of Nearly Whatever by Expense Bryson - Exactly as the title claims ... Fantastic for those who enjoy facts, insights on evolution and also amazing stories of just how we got below as a human race on this one-of-a-kind planet.

Down the Freeway: The Life of Bob Dylan by Howard Sounes - The tale of the best singer/songwriter of contemporary times (in my viewpoint). I am a big Dylan follower as well as this publication lit up many dark edges of the life of among my idolizers. I highly suggest reading a couple of chapters, after that most likely to YouTube for video clips of that time duration to see him and what was taking place. As well as likewise, much more notably, listen to the songs that are explained in the chapters you read.

Gulp by Mary Roach - A lovely as well as detailed story of our digestive system ... yes, seriously! It's amazing and also you'll never ask yourself once more what they are discussing when somebody states 'fecal transplant' at an alcoholic drink party.

Helen Noakes

Life on Land by Emilie Conrad - enthusiastic, dramatic, deep and also discusses breath motion as well as fascia beautifully.

Awakening the Spine by Vanda Scaravelli - Lovely images, poetic radical and also rebellious.

The Initial Body - Primitive Movement for Yoga Teachers by John Stirk - Totally initial, artistic, deep and also imaginative. A publication for life.

Jennilee Toner

Yoga and the Course of the Urban Mystic by Darren Key - Darren Main's book has actually been required reading for all my 200-hour educator trainees because 2010. It is such an enjoyable and easy means to study the practice and viewpoint of yoga exercise. The light and also fresh way Darren Main authentically explains his own way of dealing with the 8 Limbs of Yoga exercise is delightful.

How Yoga Works by Michael Cockroach and Christie McNally - This publication actually changed the means I came close to practising and teaching yoga. My personal technique and also teaching grew unbelievably after my very initial analysis of this Sutra-inspired tale. It came to be more intimate, a lot more intentional, more deliberate and extra soulful. I have actually needed it ever because in my 300-hour teacher trainings and each re-reading has actually even more assisted to advance my method and also training to new degrees of affection and service.

Katy Appleton

One Soul as well as Entering as well as in by Danna Faulds - Danna Faulds' verse publications are expressions and understandings to the internal landscape people as humans. I utilize them to supply deepness in the practice and open the area within.

The Diamond in Your Pocket - Gangaji - this book has to do with spiritual awakening in this life time. The common in the extraordinary!

Tracey Uber Cook

Light on Life by BKS Iyengar - This is a fantastic publication to have in one's collection. It is the culmination of Mr Iyengar's understanding from years of practise as well as teaching, weaving with each other Patanjali's 8 Arm or legs of Yoga exercise as well as the 5 Koshas from the Taittriya Upanishad. I have read this book numerous, often times, though never from cover to cover! I always pick it up and look to a page or phase which calls to me as well as each time it speaks something brand-new and profound to me. I have actually utilized it as a resource in teacher trainings and very suggest it to any person wanting to inquire much deeper right into the method and philosophy of yoga.

The Brilliance Sutras, translation as well as commentary by Loren Roche, PhD - Dr Roche has actually invested decades studying and also equating this luminous translation of the ancient Vijnana Bhairava Tantra message. Its 162 knowledgeables sing the tune of Life and Love in between the Devi (Shakti), the innovative power of deep space, and also Bhairava (Shiva), the boundless awareness which embraces Her and also from which She occurs. The verses define the enigma as well as wonder of Life within every thing, assumed and task. Bringing light to the loving understanding which makes all existence possible.

The Heart of Awareness (Ashtavakra Gita) - translation by Thomas Byrom - Referred to in numerous Vedanta circles as 'the highest training following to silence', this is the tune of understanding in all of its boundless types. I like to take it to the coastline as the sun increases, check out a few lines, and also rest in the quiet of the morning.

Marlene Smits

The Absolutely Nothing that Is by Robert Kaplan - more a metaphysical philosophical publication than a yoga exercise publication, 'taking us from Archimedes to Einstein and making fascinating connections between mathematical insights from every age and culture'.

Living in the Heart by Drunvalo Melchizedek - for a description of how to move from the brain-centred experience of truth to that which originates from the heart.

Irina Verwer

The Course Of Technique by Maya Tiwari - A stunning book on Ayurveda for women. Inspiring as well as heartwarming.

After the Euphoria, the Washing by Jack Kornfield - Quick, succinct, funny, and always informing stories.

Feeding Your Demons by Tsultrim Allione - Clearly created, sensible, and thorough instruction.

Nichi Green

Yoga and also the Quest for the True Self by Stephen Cope - I've simply finished reading this as well as definitely enjoyed it. Written much more like a novel, Stephen is a psychotherapist as well as yoga educator. His insight and experiences of yoga exercise are phenomenal and also he associates a great deal of it to spiritual technique as well as the restorative influence that yoga exercise has when you immerse on your own in it for enough time. Among my leading 10 yoga books!

Gilda Goharian

The Subtle Body by Stefanie Syman - This book is concerning the growth of yoga in the United States as well as exactly how it progressed from an old spiritual technique to a practice that countless Americans position at the centre of their lifestyle. Guide is entertaining and also simple to read.

... Unlike virtually everything by the late Georg Feuerstein, who dedicated his life to the understanding and also technique of yoga exercise! Every one of his publications are thick and scholastic however I can still advise him for his substantial knowledge as well as knowledge. If you ask me to select one I would certainly select Yoga Custom: Its History, Literary Works, Ideology as well as Method. The book supplies a full introduction of every yogic tradition, from the familiar to the lesser-known types. Not always a web page turner however it may be whatever you need if you're interested in yoga exercise viewpoint and background. And also once you begin checking out and get utilized to the design it can be entertaining too.

George Langenberg

Kriya Yoga: 4 Spiritual Masters as well as a Novice - If you have checked out Autobiography of a Yogi by Yogananda then you learn about the sages who acquired the highest degree through reflection in the Kriya Yoga family tree. Yoga is a course of Self Realisation as well as through Kriya Yoga exercise you can walk this path.

I read Autobiography of a Yogi in 1998 and also at the time wished that I might fulfill an educator that would show me 'the way' and show me a lot more regarding Raja yoga, reflection and also Pranayama. In 2001 this wish came to life: I satisfied my Guruji (spiritual teacher) in India and obtained Kriya Yoga exercise initiation in 2002. This book is concerning the Kriya Yoga family tree I comply with and also concerning being devout to a living Master. I have found out so a lot under his assistance over the previous 16 years. The lessons and reflections that I share on EkhartYoga are simply an understanding of the depth of the Kriya Yoga method where breath, embodied awareness and dedication collaborated in greater realms of the mind.

#ashtanga yoga #healing #iyengar yoga #kriya yoga #pranayama #prenatal yoga #raja yoga #spiritual #spiritual awakening #types of yoga #yin yoga #yoga #yoga alliance #yoga music #yoga nidra #yoga works

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disposedserenity · 4 years

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*rough* review of MOTS:7

The title might say review, but it’s really just my own thoughts that I want to share in the form of verbal vomit. STREAM while u read.

1) Interlude: SHADOW I loved the song right away on first listen. The extended version is soooo good, because it traces back to yoongi’s iconic ‘I want big house, big cars, big rings’ line from NMD. Thematically, this is my favourite concept out of the 3 rap line solos (Persona, Shadow & Ego). Yoongi songs all immediately reasonate with me because the stuff he writes about are what I’ve experienced at one point in my life.... and I feel so deeply when yoongi is rapping about it. At this point, I could go on forever about why I love yoongi songs so much but I will stop here.

2) Black Swan

It took me about three listens to fully appreciate the song, but I KNEW I was going to love it when I heard that trap beat and the bump bump bump lyric... Then I watched the performance, and I just loved it even more. For years, I’ve been fervently wishing that bts (especially jimin) would do a contemporary dance and I AM SO GLAD THEY DID!! Speaking of the dance, that’s another analysis on it’s own.... The way they match the dance steps to the lyrics.... Also this song lined up right after shadow makes perfect sense because Shadow talks about losing yourself into the deepest and darkest recesses of your soul while in Black Swan, the boys step into that shadow and confront it because they realise you have to make peace with your shadow to emerge triumphant.

3) Filter

I swear, this could be an Alec Benjamin song because this song has Alec Benjamin VIBES all over. Well, I guess jimin took inspiration from him because he put a ton of alec’s songs on his spotify playlist and even went to his concert so yey! Both their voice tones are similar ish because it’s very distinct and their singing voices are quite different from their speaking voices so it’d be really cool if they made a song together. Funnily enough, I don’t really like this song as much as I thought I’d would. It’s not a bad song, but I think I don’t gravitate to this song as much because this song was written about jimin for jimin and it’s really himself that he’s singing it to.

This song also radiates BIG libra energy. Libras love changing and moulding their personalities to please other people and they put on various personas to showcase the multi-faceted sides of themselves (sorry, just a huge astrology enthusiast here lolol). Filter has a narcissist undertone to it done in a purposeful manner. The protagonist of this song KNOWS he’s desired and is flaunting it in any way possible. They are aware of the power they hold and are wielding it to control the listener (the pursuers) Ahahaha sounds like someone we know? Recently, I told a friend that Jimin is really good at fan service. He’s the idol of idols, his face and name gets recognised first, everyone wants to be him AND be with him.... To sum it up, filter is jimin showing the world that he has many sides and it doesn’t matter which we are going to choose because he can adapt to whichever one you please (this push and pull reminds me a lot of house of cards hmm...)

4) My Time

Jungkook definitely has some magic where his song always gets to me and I immediately like the song. I think he excels in laying out his emotions bare and this creates a perfect canvas for telling his story. I definitely cannot relate to what he talks about in My TIme because I am not a jetsetting global superstar who vary between time zones (not that I know of), yet I still feel like I’ve been in his exact footsteps and know that feeling. This, my friends, is what true skill looks like. The rarest of musicians are able to write a song about themselves and make it relevant to almost everyone. It’s an impossible task. Yet, this golden maknae has succeeded once again.

In Begin, he talks about leaving Seoul to pursue his dreams and dedicates that song to his 6 members, his 6 newfound brothers, the hardships they go through and again, this hits you hard. You might not have left your hometown at a young age, but everyone has left something or someone behind in their lives. Euphoria ALWAYS makes me melancholic even though I clearly 1) am not young, 2) do not have a first love 3) minus bts, would NOT call anyone the cause of my euphoria but shit, jungkook out here got me feeling things and tearing up.

Thank you jungkook for constantly expressing your thoughts in such a clear way in any song you write, and My Time is no exception (and it sounds like such a r&b banger too)

5) Louder than Bombs

TROYE! SIVAN! You absolutely can hear troye’s fingerprints all over this song because this song sounds like a troye song (in the best way possible, because I looooove troye and his music) This is another classic “happy sounding but sad af lyrics” bangtan moment. Louder than Bombs is a good midway point in the album because they are crossing into the sad, aggressive, heart tearing, no bullshit songs territory.

(I don’t have a lot to say about this because I really love this song and sometimes with songs that I like, I just sit back and enjoy for what it is.)

6) ON

OKAY NOW LET’S GET INTO FORMATION! (yes, this was the first thing that it reminded me of hahaha and her superbowl half time performance had a marching band too) THIS.IS.SUCH.AN.ABSOLUTE.EARWORM. I LOVE IT. The 30 second preview made me so intrigued because it only featured the “hey na na na” part so I wondered what ON would sound like. I was NOT expecting it to sound like that, but what can I say? BTS always blows me away with their title tracks.

Speaking of formation, hooooo boy do I love the formation of this choreography. Mad props to The Lab for pulling this out of their hat because IT IS SO IMPRESSIVE. The set up reminds me of dionysus too, in the way that the choreography is being arranged in the live performances. Big ups to the Blue Devils marching band too, because even though you can’t really see much of them in the mv (or maybe I’m too focused on the boys lol) but you can hear the marching band so much clearer in the audio and I am LIVING for it. Overall, I am utterly thrilled by this masterpiece.

7) UGH!

*gunshots* alright back to 2013 bangtan let’s go. UGH, when will rap line stop making a banger? never I guess, UGH. lord, just let me get dissed by rap line once and then life would be better.

I. fucking. love. the. rap. line. I am definitely not smart enough to try to analyse or decipher the lyrics even with translations because their wordplay is on a whole other level. With cyphers and ddaeng, I really shouldn’t be surprised anymore but I still am. They manage to outdo themselves with every new song they release together. RM, Suga and J-Hope are great on their own but you put them TOGETHER? in one STUDIO? god help us all when this is performed live because someone’s gonna get headbanged out of the venue. I’ll end this with a silent prayer for a rap line concert.....

8) 00:00

This song is so, so, so painful. This song is what Tonight is to me. Ok I’m going to get a whole lot more personal here.

I was in a fucking terrible internship last year during the period Persona was released (I’m actually quite thankful this song wasn’t released then or I’d really have full on goblin ugly cry listening to this). That was the worst job experience I’ve ever had in my life (lao tian ye please don’t deal me any more shitty hands). I spent every day wishing that my misery would end soon and I physically did not want to go to work the next day. Every morning, I was almost crying to have to get up to go to work (and because it was an almost 2 hour journey to the office). By the time I reached home, all I could do was eat (if I had an appetite) and retire to my room and lie on the floor and just stare into my ceiling while mindlessly scrolling through social media looking for some sort of solace. Some days, even bts wasn’t doing it for me. Even though I managed to get out of that hellhole before the end date, the trauma (lol can I call it that?) and emotions stayed with me throughout the rest of the year. Only one friend knew I had depression and constantly asked me about it (thank you friend, even though you won’t read this...) and I even looked up therapists in singapore.

The lyrics ‘An unsettling night, suddenly, I look at the clock. Soon, it’s 12 O’Clock. Will something change. It probably won’t be the case’ hits so hard because this describes my situation to a T. By the time I got home, it was about 8.30 and by the time I snapped out of my mindlessness, it was almost midnight and this cycle just carried on for months.

Zero O’Clock

And you gonna be happy

Midnight is both a happy and sad hour, because for some it could signal the end of their misery or their happiness. Back then, it was my hell because it meant a new hellish day was approaching. Looking back now, I realise it could have been a tiny form of happiness because it meant that the days are passing and the end to my pain was getting closer.

So thank you Jin, Jungkook, V and Jimin for creating such a beautiful song that I didn’t know would end up being so personal. Putting aside the meaning, it is such a great song that I’d put on repeat. But I’m scared to call this a favourite because of how intimate this is for me so I hope y’all understand. But, thank you from the bottom of my heart.

9) Inner Child

This sounds like it should be a in a drama or anime haha. The “whoa ohhhh” vocals in the backgrounds reminds me a lot of Jet Lag too. Inner Child is a very fitting title because as V described, it is a letter to his past self. As an ARMY, I’ve witnessed how much V has matured over the past few years. I mean even though all of the members have also grown, V’s transformation is the one that stands out the most (at least to me). Tae went from a bright eyed outgoing kid to a still outgoing but deeply contemplative adult in front of millions of adoring fans and strangers alike, and I cannot imagine how that must be like for him. V is a notoriously private person, and we know the least about if you reeeally think about it. I will never (nor do I want to) know what goes through his mind but I appreciate the fact he reveals a tiny glimpse of it in his songs (scenery, winter bear and now inner child).

10) Friends

CAN YOU SPELL SOULMATES? NO YOU CAN’T, BECAUSE THERE IS NO VMIN IN IT. Ships are cute and all, but vmin has trascended beyond what ships are and I’m convinced they are all part of a bigger plan arranged by the Almighty that no matter what happens, they will always find each other in their four lives (can you tell I’ve been watching Goblin lolol). Recently, I was listening to a podcast by Jae and the episode was about the probability of soulmates. One of the questions he posed was what is a soulmate? To me, I believe that soulmates exist in many forms. There are the romantic soulmates (hi glenn & benn), friendship soulmates, family soulmates, strangers soulmates and even a bond between a pet and a human. I now think there should be another category of soulmates and that is vmin. *cries I want what vmin have* Not everyone manages to find their soulmates. The lucky ones do, and the rest of us will have to settle for second best.

Also kudos to Jimin for his first ever produced song! woohoo

11) Moon

When I first read that this was a song about Jin’s love for ARMY, I braced myself for a full waterfall of tears. However, I was pleasantly surprised by how happy this song sounds??? (thanks jin for not making me cry again like tonight did). Now that I think about it, of course Jin would make a happy love song (pffft saggis). As we all know, Jin’s way of comforting himself is to comfort others through laughter, smiles and lotsa dad jokes. No one else but Jin would and I love him even more for this. He takes the idea of what you’d think a love song would sound like and turn it around. SAD? NOT IN JINHIT ENTERTAINMENT.

Jin, know that you are more than a handsome face and the oldest member. You are loved more than you think you are. You think you’re the moon to us? No hun, you are the entire galaxy contained in those worldwide shoulders.

12) Respect

My favourite track. I mean starting with that iconic “should I stay or should I go” line? Genuis. Collab of the year. Namgi of the year. Ok, maybe I am slightly (alot) bias since this song is essentially Suga, RM & El Capitixn (yes, THE El Capitixn that helped to produce DDAENG).

Namgi dynamics are so rarely talked about because most people see them as the underground rapper duo who’ve known each other over 10 years and are old friends and that’s about it. Their dynamics just gets to me even more because the trust and respect they have for each other is incredible. Joon looks up to yoongi as an older member and also for his incredible work ethic, while yoongi trusts joon wholeheartedly as their leader even though joon is younger and the way they banter off each other? ugh, where can I get bros like namgi? Their rap and producing styles are so vastly different yet the result that is respect makes ME respect them. Use me as your slave, masters.

bonus: that ending clip of them just having a convo? please share your stories from back in the day, please. I said please. with a cherry on top.

13) We are Bulletroof: the Eternal

Is this MOTS : 7′s answer to Mikrokosmos? I can already imagine this as the ending song of a concert..... A perfect tune to end the album as well. Who knew my attraction to the number seven had a deeper meaning than just simply liking it huh? Is my life preplanned too.... @ universe give me answers. I really like how this song did not go the WABB Part 1 & 2 route and took a softer approacher indeed. It’s almost like they are saying we were seven hardened boys made more tender with the existence of armys.... ok bitch don’t make me cry anymore than I have been suppressing.

“we are not seven, with you” :’))))

14) Outro: Ego

This is the kind of song that gets better the more you listen to it. Not that it was bad on the first listen, but usually such bright and positive songs takes a while longer for the emo in me to process. I say this all the time that I almost sound like a broken recorder, but I LOVE LOVE how hobi has crafted a sound for him that is uniquely his and you will be able to immediately recognise it’s him (which is such a hard feat to pull off, might I add). I’m also immensely proud because he started out as a street dancer to becoming one of the best rappers in the industry while holding his rightful candle alongside two already established rappers that is namgi. I cannot wait to see this being performed live because you just know he’ll get everyone and their grandmas to start vibin right there.

In conclusion, I love bts. what else is there more to say.

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starberry-cupcake · 5 years

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Overall thoughts on Les Mis BBC

I decided, after all those summaries I made, to write what I hope can be a more coherent opinion on what I thought of the adaptation as a whole. I wanted to make sure to state that my critical reactions weren’t for entertainment purposes only or exaggerated for the fun of it but based on real concerns I’ll expand in this post. This is like the “serious companion”, if you will.

I don’t know if anyone cares about it at this point, but I feel that even though my summaries helped me go through the immediate frustrations in a (mostly) lighthearted way, it’s the distance from having watched it all what gave me a little bit more clarity to order my thoughts.

I’ve established my opinion isn’t worth a damn, I’m not smart or knowledgeable enough for this fandom and, needless to say, these are all my personal opinions, take them with a grain of salt or a bathtub of it. I’m a worthless nobody and my words have no value, but the internet is still (sort of) free, so here I go.

Introduction: the initial news, Andrew Davies & the PR mess

BBC announced the adaptations of 2 media phenomenons which started as books that I love so much I’m considering tattoos of both. And, for both of them, my main concerns were on the person adapting the script.

On the one hand, there’s His Dark Materials, a book series that made me the person I am today, pretty much. One of the directors is none other than Tom Hooper (what are the odds) and the script adaptation was in the hands of Jack Thorne. Cursed Child Jack Thorne. Yeah, not thrilled about that.

Surprisingly enough, His Dark Materials was given a projection of 3 possible seasons, rather than just one, the 3rd hasn’t been yet confirmed but the fact that the script was made thinking on one season per major book on the series, and that each season has 8 episodes planned, at least gives me a bit of hope, even if the person adapting it isn’t in my favorites list.

Les Mis, on the other hand, went to the hands of Andrew Davies, another person I don’t trust.

I’m one of those folk who was never too fond of the ‘95 version of Pride and Prejudice, mainly because of how Darcy was made into a sort of sex symbol, where his flaws were seen as “attractive marks of broody character” rather than vulnerability and with gratuitous sexualizing fanservice. I know a lot of people love it for that and that’s cool, you do you, but it’s not for me.

Then, when he adapted War and Peace, he talked about adding more sex to it and had the Kuragin siblings shown explicitly sleeping together from the get-go in episode 1 and that’s when I stopped watching (there were other things I didn’t like but that one was my limit).

To make matters worse, it made me weary that Les Mis was getting an overall amount of only 6 episodes whereas HDM was getting a potential 24-ish. That was an odd choice.

So, as you can guess, I knew coming in that Davies writing the script, a script with a limited time-frame for the story, was a huge risk.

But, on the other hand, as the cast was announced, I got excited. Especially for people like Archie Madekwe, Turlough Convery, Erin Kellyman and some famous actors like David Oyelowo. Their filming logs on social media, how nice they all were and how much fun they had filming made me happy. I felt that maybe these great folks could turn around whatever the scrip had to disappoint me.

But then came all the PR stuff.

The more I read Davies & co. talking about the show, the less hope I had for it. Talking very badly about the musical and the 2012 movie, calling female characters “not complicated”, insulting Cosette, saying that Javert’s lack of explicit heterosexual sex in the brick was reason enough to push a homosexual narrative centered on an unhealthy behavior, patting themselves on the back for having a diverse cast as if no other adaptation of Les Mis had ever done it before...even their talks about Fantine’s make up made me weary. And, let’s not forget their ridiculous insistence on not having songs.

By the time the show premiered, my hopes had dwindled. The excitement I had upon knowing there would be another Les Mis adaptation so soon, a BBC one at that, and with a cast I had hopes for, was blurred by all the nonsense of PR and I was more afraid than hopeful.

In the end, after having watched it completely, and as you can see for my summaries, I was heavily disappointed. I’ll try to list some of my biggest concerns, in no particular order.

I can’t be super extensive about it, because there are a lot of points to go over, but there are a lot of amazing opinion pieces out there about specific issues, so you don’t need me for that.

Anyway, let’s delve into some of my biggest problems with BBC Les Mis.

Problem #1: The portrayal of femininity

Solely by the fact that Davies stated that women on Les Mis “are not terribly complicated” you know that things are not going to go all too well on that front.

I’m going to pick 3 characters to showcase how badly women were portrayed in this: Fantine, Cosette and Éponine. I’ll leave other characters for another section.

1. Fantine

I’ve talked about Fantine before, upon receiving some questions on my summaries, but I’ll try to explain it all in a more understandable way.

The lens in which Fantine was seen was sexist from the get-go. The way in which the story was framed made the audience complicit in the choices she was making, choices that were negatively regarded by the narrative perspective alone. Her “fall to disgrace” was framed as her own decisions being incorrect, silly mistakes that were easily avoidable, and never regarded as the result of living in a society that was unable to contain her and see her as a valid human being. But we’ll get to that when we talk about the politics (or lack thereof) on this show.

Like I said in my response before, the way in which Fantine is portrayed, even in the musical itself, varies greatly performance to performance. Patti LuPone performing I Dreamed a Dream after Fantine gets dismissed isn’t like Anne Hathaway performing it after she has become a prostitute and neither carry the same implications as Allison Blackwell in the Liesl Tommy’s Dallas modern production, influenced by her experience in apartheid South Africa.

Still, the key element to developing Fantine’s portrayal, when it comes to sexism and the showcasing of her environment, has two layers: the actual oppression showcased in the source material and the contemporary interpretation or lens in which an adaptation will view it.

In this version, Fantine’s character was toned down in her attitude. She was less reactive than in the brick, a lot more passive, a lot more of a tragic figure, which paired up with the fact that this adaptation covered her entire “fall to ruin”, from meeting Tholomyès onward, made her a victim of everything that happened to her.

A victim of her own bad decisions, though, not of a social context that was failing her.

But the worst part is in how the focus of the show is placed. You can have Fantine being a summarized version of herself, with less spunk, and still showcase through her that the circumstances she was in were permeated by an escalating force of social disadvantage and oppression.

This adaptation made, like I said, the audience complicit in Fantine’s decisions as if she was a princess in a movie, unaware of the threats she was getting herself into by her own naive foolishness.

Tholomyès is blatantly shady, clearly dishonest, not at all charming or in any way trustworthy and Fantine gets a “voice of reason” on a friend who tells her various times that he will eventually leave. There are a lot of red flags, blatant for the audience, that Fantine chooses to dismiss. The show focuses less on why Fantine trusted Tholomyès and more on her making a clear bad choice we all knew was doomed from the start.

This becomes a problem once again when she chooses to leave Cosette with the Thénardiers. They are very clearly shady, very blatantly aggressive and ready to take advantage of her, visibly manhandling Cosette in front of her and asking for more money on the spot, and Fantine again naively ignores all of this.

They do it again when she enters employment in Montreuil. She talks to Valjean himself in this version, and is asked repeatedly and with kindness if she has a family. The scene makes it seem as if she could have easily told the truth, especially because we were previously given a scene in which Fantine hears a speech talking about how Valjean is the Best Person Ever and could potentially help her. Still, she chooses to repeatedly lie and the show makes it seem less for necessity and more for a sense of pride of some sort.

(Also, as a foreshadowing of creepy Valjean to come, there are some insinuations from her co-workers that she could seduce Valjean, which is confusingly placed and awkwardly added where it is.)

Then, after she’s dismissed, there’s a man in a post office who asks her, after receiving letters from the Thénardiers (to which she reacts a lot more passively than in the brick), why she doesn’t bring Cosette to live with her, in a condescending tone, as if he was stating the obvious. Fantine responds again as if she was doing it out of pride. The same man is the one to suggest her to start selling her body and then tell her she should have done it before selling her hair and teeth because “nobody would pay for her after that”.

Every turn we’re met with ways in which Fantine’s decisions are seen as foolish in the eyes of the viewer. It’s like Blue’s Clues or Dora the Explorer when they ask stuff to the audience for the kids to say they shouldn’t do something. It’s patronizing as fuck, is what it is. And, yes, sexist.

These narrative choices are sexist because they erase most of the social and political situation which made Fantine vulnerable in the first place, to push the tragic drama as if she was a victim of being “too naive”. It’s sexist because it makes the audience know from the get go that what Fantine is doing is a “bad choice”, easily avoidable mistakes that whoever writes is smart enough to sense are bad but poor naive Fantine can’t understand.

It isn’t just that she’s called a whore a lot of times, that she’s smashed against walls and the ground hard enough that Lily Collins was actually hurt, that she’s shown explicitly being used by a patron on the street. It’s that all of it is done with the added layer of her having “chosen wrong”. That everything is framed as the consequences of actions that the narrative voice, as well as the audience, are smart enough to know are wrong, but poor little Fantine can’t handle.

Like many things in this adaptation we’ll see later, Fantine’s journey is framed more like the tragic end of a woman who didn’t know how to choose right and was punished for said choices rather than the result of an unfair society which didn’t allow women any freedom to choose and didn’t see them as worthy human beings.

2. Cosette

When Andrew Davies called Cosette a “pretty nauseating character” in need of change, I knew I was up against one of those people.

Cosette is probably one of the most underestimated female characters in literature, and adaptations tend to do her dirty very often. I’m not even fond of her interpretation in the musical all that much, which goes in tow with the interpretation of Éponine. I’ve seen my fair share of men on youtube claiming Gavroche should be the face of Les Mis rather than Cosette, I’ve received my fair amount of messages claiming she’s The Worst, I’ve seen it all.

This adaptation does with Cosette something that, out of context, I would have thought impossible. They manage to somehow attempt to make her more “active” (they would call it “strong” but I have problems with that denomination) while making her even more of a helpless victim. It’s a pretty impressive oxymoron.

Let’s begin with little Cosette.

This adaptation does something very weird in that it only showcases Cosette’s storyline as a child when it serves other characters, but then intends to build upon the abuse by mentioning it or making it clear that adult Cosette remembers it well.

So we see Cosette when she’s important to Fantine’s storyline, the Thénardiers’s storyline or Valjean’s storyline, but not much about her on her own, aside from one time she’s looking at dolls and another time when she’s being beaten up by Madame Thénardier, which could be also a moment for the Thénardiers and not solely for Cosette’s narrative.

What I mean with this is that the view on her is reduced to a side character rather than a main one and, with that, her perspective on her own abuse isn’t taken into account. You don’t know how Cosette feels about things, you don’t see her perspective on it, you only see what others do to her but never get to see her side of it. For all the musical erases of her narrative, at least they give her Castle on a Cloud.

It’s with little Cosette where we start to see this weird sense of sexually charged perception towards her relationship with Valjean.

For some inexplicable and highly alarming reason, it’s implied by various witnesses in different occasions that Valjean’s intentions with Cosette may be inappropriate, and I would have let it slide as just people thinking The Worst out of living in a social context in which The Worst is most often the truth, hadn’t that perception carried throughout the series and mixed with Valjean’s erratic and possessive characterization.

When Cosette grows up, she gains a bit more focus, but she also starts to be charged a lot more sexually.

Both Cosette and Éponine are sexualized and objectivized in this adaptation. This will be addressed later, but most often than not this sexualization acts as an accessory to a narrative about masculinity.

Cosette’s virtue, beauty and body are talked about and even exposed in various moments. They tell her she can’t be a nun because that would be “a waste of her beauty”. In that dreadful scene in the dress shop I talked about in summary 4, the shop assistant again implies that Cosette is Valjean’s lover and lets him see her in undergarments through the curtain, with clear intentions. Valjean’s erratic persona is intent on separating her from Marius, explicitly telling her he’s worried that she will be taken advantage of by men, bringing up Fantine’s history to her with that in mind, while putting her in danger and in the company of the Thénardiers again, in more than one occasion.

Adult Cosette has visible signs of the trauma she suffered, which is an interesting direction to go. I haven’t seen an adaptation taking such a big route on her remembering her past abuse, and is a change that worked in performance, Ellie did some great visible responses like covering herself when Valjean wakes her up or going fight or flight every time she sees Thénardier. She is visibly upset when Marius gives him money and looks both angry yet still hesitant when she sees the man for the last time.

But all that kind of loses its importance when the men around her not only don’t give a shit but also do their worst.

Valjean manhandles her, harms her even, pushes her to the limits of her emotional state by taking her to see the prisoners intentionally after she mentioned prison, acting more possessive than caring and more erratically violent than conflicted and concerned.

Marius has a somewhat wet dream about her and then again dreams with her in confusing ways when he’s out of the barricade, with his grandfather talking about her as if she’s a piece of meat even after he meets her and she’s right in front of him.

They tried to make Cosette more aggressive, I think, more reactive, which in some moments worked. But when the lens in which she’s viewed is objectivizing, when she’s being commented on, offered and treated as an object, then it isn’t enough. It makes it worse, actually.

I’m sorry for Ellie, though, she did good.

3. Éponine

Much like Cosette, Éponine’s childhood was all but a few cameos. It’s very often that adaptations try to “tone down” Éponine in order to pull a narrative of her as an underdog in a love triangle, the “friendzoned” girl who tragically dies. The musical does that, for example.

Some of Éponine’s most controversial actions in the brick tend to be most often deleted or changed, except for adaptations in which she’s an “enemy” to Cosette’s narrative of a classic heroine.

It isn’t easy to find adaptations that are able to make Éponine showcase the complexity of her canon character not as a problem but as what makes her character so good and important in the overall story. Hey, even fandom sometimes tends to romanticize Éponine as if she had to be “redeemed” in order to be seen as a worthy character (but that happens a lot with female characters in general).

Éponine doesn’t exist for Marius’s narrative, as the other girl in a love triangle, or for Cosette’s narrative, as an enemy, she’s her own character with her own reason for existing and complex human dynamics that are extremely permeated by the social circumstances she’s immersed in and represents.

I’d say this adaptation is on the group that uses her for Marius’s storyline.

Added to that, it’s one of the worst I’ve seen on that case, because in this one, Marius is complicit of Éponine’s intentions, which are sexualized to a degree I don’t feel comfortable with.

We’ll talk a bit more about the Marius side of things later, but for Éponine, it meant she was reduced to a character that exists to sexually awaken Marius rather than a tragic figure on her own or even a piece of a love triangle. So, basically, this is the worst I’ve seen in a while.

This is clearly seen in that interview when Davies explained why he added that “wet dream” scene, saying:

“One of the best things Hugo does is to have Eponine tease Marius with her sexiness because he is a bit of a prig. So I have introduced a scene where Marius, even though he is in love with Cosette, has a wet dream about Eponine and feels rather guilty about it. I think it fits into the psychology of the book.” Source

Let’s leave out the part where he considers that to be “one of the best things Hugo does” because I cannot deal with that right now. Let’s focus on the other bit.

Like this quote suggests and I said before, Éponine was rather reduced to a tool for Marius’s sexual awakening. In this version, it isn’t only the “wet dream” which precedes more crucial interactions between Marius and Éponine, there’s also a scene where she strips for him through the hole in the wall and another where Courfeyrac is commenting on her and Azelma as Marius moves into the building for the first time.

By the time Marius gives her his money and any sort of bond can occur, it’s evidently clear in this version that Éponine has been teasing Marius and he is fully aware of it. He looks at her through the peep hole licking his lips and then has that disturbing dream where she’s kind of forcing him onto her in a very questionable way.

So, this Marius is by no means unaware of the fact that Éponine was attracted to him in some capacity and has played along her seduction, which makes his dismissal of her and his request for her to find Cosette a lot like he is using her for his own gain and replacing her for another girl.

Éponine’s attitude, much like Cosette’s, tries to be more active at times. She’s confrontational to her parents, seems protective of Azelma and is pleased to see her mother stuck in jail.

However, much like with Cosette, any kind of agency is compromised for having her narrative be serving a male character’s development rather than her own. Her involvement in the barricade is also somewhat modified but, by that time, her journey has already been substantially affected.

Much like Ellie, Erin was a very good Éponine when she was allowed to perform at her best and I wish she had been involved in an adaptation that was able to portray Éponine with more justice.

I’ll talk a bit more about women on the show in general in problem #3 but, for now, let’s move on.

Problem #2: The portrayal of masculinity

1. Javert

I am not the best person to write an essay on Javert, there are a lot of people more capable than me for that, and I may be called out for this and mess everything up, but I can’t write overall opinions without mentioning my issues with his characterization, at least summarized.

Javert is a complicated character. He is, as much as everyone else, affected by the circumstances and a man who goes through a huge emotional impact and sees his values questioned and compromised. His and Valjean’s journeys have a lot in common, in different ways and with different outcomes.

Sadly, Javert tends to be seen as a villain in a lot of adaptations. It’s a way to simplify the plot in the way movies tend to do: something is defined by what the other isn’t, if Valjean is the protagonist, then Javert must be his antagonist. I was worried that this version was going to fall into that trap, because of time restraint and Davies’s tendencies of simplifying complex characters.

Javert’s characterization was erratic, much like Valjean’s. His attitude was blurred by fits of rage and moments of confusing violence, followed by charged pauses in strange cadences which tended to fluctuate. I don’t think his attitude was as all-over-the-place as Valjean’s, but it was certainly not as well defined as other Javerts I’ve seen through the years.

This Javert, however, had a choice made for him that separates him from other versions:

Over tea in central London, Davies tells me that he was surprised to discover that, in Hugo’s 1862 novel, neither character [Javert or Valjean] mentions any sort of sexual experience, leaving the 82-year-old screenwriter wondering, at least in the case of Javert, whether it was indicative of a latent homosexuality. Source

There is a lot to unpack there.

First, there’s this idea of masculinity in which the lack of explicit heterosexual intercourse in canon is directly representative of homosexuality. I’m not gonna delve a lot in the brick but there are a good bunch of characters you can easily read as gay. Hell, there’s that whole thing going on with comparing Enjolras and Grantaire to greek couples. And if you want to write Javert as gay, go ahead, there’s a lot of fanfiction out there who is with you on that and I’m here for all interpretations, no problem at all.

But if you’re going to take that route, you need to be careful with your optics.

This Javert is, at the end of the day, in this adaptation, a gay man of color. He is also explicitly obsessed with Valjean in a way that exceeds his sense of justice. He looks at him undress in prison, is all over his personal space while he’s in chains and later interrogates him believing Marius is his lover, clearly attempting Valjean to confess to him if he was. He receives a lot of comments from an officer who touches him and looks at him strangely in the last episode, prompting an immediate rejection from him.

Everything points to Javert’s homosexuality being in the plot only as a further motivator for his need to capture Valjean, which makes for both a problematic portrayal of predatory homosexuality and a subsequent narrative of police abuse, both very problematic aspects to portray through a gay man of color. The way he acts and the way in which people act around him make it seem like his obsession with capturing him is fueled by the fact that Valjean represents his closeted feelings and that is all kinds of messed up.

He is also clearly not as involved in other aspects of the law as he is in capturing Valjean, since Thénardier ends up being a secondary worry to him, even explicitly knowing he has been mistreating and abusing a child, and he also explicitly doesn’t care about his achievements or the ones of his other officers as long as Valjean is on the loose. He lets Thénardier escape prison on his watch and doesn’t take care of it himself, prioritizing Valjean.

It isn’t about what happens in canon or not but in how all of this, in this version, is framed under this idea that Javert is also gay and has an obsession with Valjean that seems predatory in part, rather than fueled by his beliefs. And that is a dangerous optic to write a gay character under. Especially a police officer who is also a man of color.

I’m not the one to talk about that, it’s not my experience to tell and I’m not going to speak over those whose experience this is, but as a content creator, I’d question if my need to diversify is stepping over the lines of problematic aspects that may ill represent the identities I’m trying to integrate. Just saying.

David’s performance hits some very good moments, especially when Javert starts contemplating suicide. That is a very important scene in every adaptation and a very amazing chapter in canon and David does well in performing the turmoil in Javert’s decision. They also add, as a voice in off, the notes he left to improve the service, which is a great touch.

But, much like the other characters I mentioned, his performance is blurred by these writing choices in which Javert has been added this sort of predatory sense in which Valjean in jail symbolizes also keeping his identity hidden away. Davies would probably say his “desires” because that’s the kind of guy he is.

I hope my opinion isn’t overstepping anyone’s voice and I’ll leave the further of this discussion to someone more appropriate, but I felt it was an important matter to include and something we all, as media consumers, must pay attention to.

2. Marius

I had higher hopes for this boy, I really did.

The good thing this adaptation does for Marius is give him a bit more room than others do. They touch more on his relationship with his father and his grandfather, they bring up the Thénardier connection to his dad, they introduce Mabeuf, and they bring him on as a kid in the beginning, which even though questionable in comparison to him having more development as a child than Cosette and Éponine, at least helped to introduce him as another key character of the whole story.

I had hopes that this earlier introduction, albeit unfairly unbalanced with Cosette’s and Éponine’s, would allow for his character to develop more strongly, especially since politics were very present in his conversations with his grandfather and the ideals of his dad. I thought that by introducing politics through Marius that would allow his connection to Les Amis de l’ABC be more profound when the moment for revolution came.

Yeah, no, that didn’t happen.

Les Mis is a book where people are the heart and soul of it. With that in mind, characters aren’t like each other, they aren’t repetitions of the other’s attitude, they are diverse reflections of the complexity of humanity. The portrayal of masculinity in characters like Javert, Valjean, Gavroche or each individual member of Les Amis aren’t the same between each other, and neither are the same as Marius’s.

Marius represents a very wide emotional spectrum. He’s sensitive and vulnerable, passionate and driven, but at the same time can take action into his own hands when he has to and fight, even at the cost of his own life. There are layers in Marius. Like a Rogel cake.

I don’t want to generalize but a problem I have often with older male writers is that they see emotional complexity as weakness, especially when it comes to the portrayal of masculinity. There’s this idea in which something that is undefined or conflicting isn’t “strong” enough and therefore requires forcing.

Remember that quote I brought up for Éponine’s characterization? we’re going back to that. To Davies calling Marius “a prig” in need of being seduced.

Like I said, this version made Marius complicit in Éponine’s advances and aware of her sexually charged intentions, and this was made in an attempt to “upgrade” Marius’s masculinity and make him “less of a prig”. Because in order to be a Man, Marius needs to objectivize women. Apparently.

Like I mentioned, the gesture of Marius giving Éponine the little money he had ended up being a lot less effective by the fact that he had already fantasized about her more than once, and with her knowing that. He is taken to a brothel by Courfeyrac and Grantaire in which women pretty much throw themselves at him while he looks for Cosette. The “wet dream” he has is a very eerie combination of idealization and assault, in which Éponine, taking Cosette’s place, forces him onto her (much like Davies is forcing this onto Marius).

It isn’t about sex or eroticism being introduced to Marius’s storyline, is that they appear forced and almost violently thrust upon him in order to validate him in this idea of masculinity the adaptation seems to have, which seems to be very narrow.

And, with that in mind, we’ll move on to the last bit of this section.

3. Valjean

I am unable to write a piece about how many layers of wrong this Valjean embodied.

There are a lot of good tumblr scholars and Les Mis experts talking about it already, they can explain better than I ever could, but we need to, at least, try to glimpse at the mess this was, because this is a post on problems and this was a major one.

There are a lot of interpretations of Valjean, some of which are astronomically awful. He’s a character that can be easily fucked up, maybe because he also represents a very complex range of emotions, a very wide spectrum of masculinity, and is inserted in a wide variety of social contexts and spheres during his lifetime, which permeate his way of living as well as his agency to do things.

Any adaptation of Les Mis from the get go starts with the challenge of representing all of this in a limited time frame and with a limited perspective. It’s very difficult to translate not only all of this complexity but also all the thoughts the narrator can rely, all the feelings and conflicts and internal turmoil that we can get from the book because it’s written.

The musical, in that sense, has some elements from its medium that help, like the soliloquies, the changes of key, the ability for characters to bear their souls through song without interrupting the believability of the story.

Representing Valjean without a medium that allows a peek inside his head is a big challenge. He is a character whose turmoil is most often interior, so showcasing that externally poses difficulty.

Still, you can’t fuck up this much, my dude.

I’ve seen bad Valjeans in my life, this one is...complicated. He’s not good, don’t get me wrong, but he isn’t as clear-cut godawful as others I’ve seen, he’s too erratic to be easily described.

I think this adaptation tried to showcase complexity through visible emotional distress and physical violence. Instead of having a soliloquy or symbolism, we have Valjean shouting or screaming or burning his hand with a coin and staring at it for a while or shouting at nuns or carrying Cosette by force so hard her arm is in pain.

Everything gets even more confusing when everyone around him treats him weirdly.

You get years of exposition clumsily thrown at you via a speech Fantine hears when she arrives at Montreuil and he’s been elected. You get girls looking at him naughtily and suggesting Fantine to try to seduce him. You get inkeepers and Thénardier suggesting his intentions with child Cosette aren’t appropriate. You get women in dress shops thinking his intentions with young adult Cosette aren’t appropriate. You get Javert thinking his intentions with Marius aren’t appropriate. Everyone wants to talk about Valjean’s sex life or something, I don’t know.

His attitude towards Cosette is also muddled by this erratic behavior and the very strange way in which he sees her and Fantine.

He is visibly more worried about men taking advantage of her, of “defiling” her, than other dangers she could be in, like his identity being found out by the police or her falling in the hands of the Thénardiers again. He forcibly removes her from Marius’s presence and has a fight with her about it that ends on him taking her to see the prisoners. He knows she still, as an adult, visibly flinches when she’s approached harshly yet manhandles her when he wants to keep her locked up.

There’s something possessive about this Valjean that ties in to how Cosette is portrayed as an object. He talks about Cosette as if she was something he needs to keep, says Marius will “rob” her, not because he wants to be a good father or see her happy but because she is his to have.

This Valjean feels as if Cosette was his attempt to get rid of the guilt he feels for having failed Fantine more so than anything else. She’s less of a person and more an object he needs to keep for himself like a third candlestick. That’s the impression I got of their relationship with his characterization.

By the time the series ended, I felt upset with Valjean.

I didn’t care if he died, I didn’t care if he suffered. And that’s pretty shitty for a Les Mis adaptation to prompt. He made me feel uncomfortable, uneasy, as if he was the last person I would trust to take care of a young girl. And whatever internal journey he was going on wasn’t developed well enough to understand any of these choices.

I don’t know, like I said, I’m not an expert of the subject of Jean Valjean, but I’m pretty sure this is not how you adapt him.

Problem #3: Diversity without optics

This show hadn’t even started and it was already patting itself on the back for being diverse.

Now, if you haven’t been in the world of Les Mis for too long, let me tell you there are a lot of adaptations which are diverse, and not only of the musical. In itself, it wasn’t a pioneer move, but I was nonetheless happy that they were going to pay attention to that. At the end of the day, Les Mis is about society, about oppression, and adaptations of it should represent the diversity of the social landscape of the time and place they’re created in.

That being said, diversity in a highly political storyline needs to be carefully worked through, because without optics you can make questionable choices. And, you guessed it, questionable choices were made here.

I can’t and won’t go over all of the issues with this that there are, but I can give a few examples.

There is, of course, the always present argument of casting Fantine and Cosette white and the majority of the Thénardiers and Éponine as poc. And of casting the majority of Les Amis as white and the majority or most visible part of Patron Minette as poc. People have discussed this at length so I won’t go over that.

There is also how constantly woc were cast in roles of service, some of which were questionable given the context. Simplice, for example, is cast this way, which I overlooked at the time but as it kept escalating with other characters like Matelote and eventually Toussaint, it grew a bit more complex.

Toussaint was...a very problematic choice.

When you present the character of a “housekeeper” in a period series which is meant to represent France in the 1800s, and she is a woman of color, some alarms start ringing. I don’t specialize in French history, but my instincts were proven correct when I checked various sources on dates, after seeing the episode, and I’m quoting wiki for easier access here:

Slavery was first abolished by the French Republic in 1794, but Napoleon revoked that decree in 1802. In 1815, the Republic abolished the slave trade but the decree did not come into effect until 1826. France re-abolished slavery in her colonies in 1848 with a general and unconditional emancipation.

This series has a weirdly set timeline in comparison to the book but, for all intents and purposes, we’re in the early 1830s at the time she’s first introduced, correct? There was still an unstable situation regarding abolition at the time. The general emancipation hadn’t been yet stated in the colonies and the decree had just been starting to hold effect.

I know this show is casting in a general way as a suspension of disbelief of some historical facts and I’m all for diversity in casting in period dramas, regardless of anything else, if it’s allowing for representation in media.

But, at the same time, you need to be careful with your optics. She could have been cast as anyone else.

I don’t wanna go over this a lot because I don’t know enough about these parts of French history nor is it my story to tell, but the problem is in the erasure of conflicts or racism altogether as a way to prompt a shallow sense of diversity in a story that is directly linked with the subject of oppression.

Let’s continue with another similar optics problem involving “diversity” to exemplify this issue further, so that I can clarify.

This barricade had women on it and didn’t have Combeferre.

Now, here is the thing about that. In the barricade my man Combeferre gives an amazing speech about women and children.

In case you weren’t aware, the 1800s were the moment when European women and children barely started to be seen as separate members of society and not only “men but worse” and “men but small”. There are a lot of good articles about that, including one by Martyn Lyons about the new readers of the 19th Century, which changed the course of the editorial market, those being women, children and working class men, who didn’t have access to literature or literacy before that. The idea of childhood as we know it started then, and the later editions of the Grimm fairy tales was one of the first published books of fairy tales explicitly aimed at children’s education. And since a lot of us, in other places of the world that aren’t Europe, were colonized af or barely getting free from colonial governments in the 1800s, we kinda had to go with the flow, regardless of the social structure of native peoples, because colonialism sucks.

But you all came here for Les Mis so, let’s get back to that.

As this terrible and summarized dive into history implies, women and children were vulnerable to the fucked up state of social strife. Education was scarce and only accessible to some, employment was scarce and only accessible to some, food was scarce and only accessible to some. Most often than not, “some” did not include women and children.

In comes the the sun to my moon, Combeferre, with his speech.

He talks about all of this. Basically he talks to men who are the main providers of families, providers of women and children who depend on them and goes (I’ll paraphrase) “it’s our fault as a society that women can’t be here now, it’s our fault they don’t have the same possibilities and education we do, so at least do them a solid and don’t die today here if they depend on you to live, because the only possibility they have without your support is prostitution”. It was a fucking power move to include that on Les Mis. I mean, the entire book is a call out to the social and political situation, but damn.

So yes, there aren’t women there but the reason for it is that patriarchy sucks and the consequences would be disastrous for them.

Davies & co. pretty much didn’t give a shit about this. But, at this point, considering Problem #1, who’s surprised.

They removed Combeferre, his speech and placed random women on the barricade, as if nothing of that was going on and the patriarchy didn’t exist. Because ~diversity~.

The fact that they thought more woke to put some random women there on the barricade to die fighting instead of acknowledging the existence of sexism altogether pretty much sums up what this whole show thought diversity was.

For them, diversity wasn’t a political and social standpoint born from reality, a way to represent the dynamics of oppression that are at stake even on this day, but an aesthetic.

And, talking about speeches, let’s move on to the next bit.

Problem #4: Where are the politics?

1. The social and political landscape

Les Mis adaptations have a fluctuating balance with politics and social conflicts.

That is, at the end of the day, the very core of the existence of this story, the reason why still, to this very day, it is relevant and quoted, adapted and regarded is the fact that we still need it.

All of us, as human beings living as members of society, are always immersed in political decisions. It’s not only unavoidable, it’s part of our lives as people living together.

In the same way, the personal narratives of the characters of Les Mis are intrinsically linked to this landscape. They are set in different places of the social spectrum and hold different power dynamics and actions that relate to political standpoints.

Adaptations tend to work this in very different ways.

Some focus less on the politics and more on the social strife, with a greater focus on the characters. Others re-insert the characters in other different historical moments with the same levels of social and political strife. Others just copy-paste the situations and put them in another context, without really explaining what revolution it is, what they’re fighting for and why they’re being killed. The focus varies.

It seems, for how this adaptation starts, with Waterloo and a subsequent argument between Gillenormand and Baron Pontmercy about Napoleon, that politics are going to be important. This doesn’t last very long.

My biggest issue with the introduction of these circumstances is that they don’t bother on them but then attempt to use them for gratuitous self righteousness. It isn’t that they abandon them altogether, they overlook them but then attempt to use them for shock value.

There is a constant use of exaggerated, almost cartoon-y, stagings of social depiction:

- You have Gillenormand dining with his boys, in a luxurious and incredibly flamboyant scenery, while dissing political views in an almost comical fashion

- You have beggars downright assaulting Valjean and Cosette on the street right outside the convent, as a means of shock to Cosette’s expectations of the world outside of it

- You have Fantine’s entire sequences as a prostitute with higher and higher degrees of abuse

- You have the streets before the barricades, in some sort of confusing clamor that loses focus in favor of Valjean’s storyline

- You have a god awful last scene which attempts to say something socially compromising by showcasing the kids Gavroche was helping (I don’t think they’re siblings in this version), as a means to say “the revolution wasn’t successful and social strife will always continue” I guess, I don’t know, because it’s not like they gave a shit about it all before, so this kind of Perrault-ish moral of the story at the end makes no goddamn sense

They are exaggerated snippets of things without context, with very little exposition, that are used more as props to shock than they are to actually take a stand on what the original story is trying to tell.

Even the reality Fantine has to suffer is blurred by the fact that the social situation isn’t seen as much as a reality in itself but a combination of Fantine’s “choices” and Valjean’s “guilt”.

But, in order to delve more into the non-political aspect of this adaptation, let’s focus on some specific characters.

2. Enjolras

Well, I’ve seen a lot of Enjolrai in my life (is that be the plural of Enjolras? yes? no? can it be?).

Enjolras has very different characterizations, even within fandom itself, but we can all agree that he’s a) highly political, b) highly committed to the cause and c) extremely charismatic.

And when I say “charismatic” I mean it in the sense that his speeches are so beautifully crafted, so certain and commanding, that you just wanna listen to what he has to say, regardless of your views. They’re political discourse but also very poetic, which is a very interesting literary opposite to Grantaire’s voice, but I digress.

Still, Enjolras doesn’t stand on his own.

He represents a part of a whole, an important part, but a part nonetheless. Les Amis are a very diverse mixture of individuals, and the main triumvirate represents different stances on the same political action that coexist together.

Without others to stand with, Enjolras loses context. Not because he can’t support himself as a character, but because his biggest value is within other people.

This Enjolras is confusing, angry and loses a lot of steam when most of the people who should be around him aren’t really paying attention.

Courfeyrac, although performed really well, doesn’t really get a chance to show his political ideas without Enjolras around, and that makes it seem like he’s being convinced to participate rather than doing it for his own reasons and being one key part of the group.

In the barricade, Enjolras acts as if he doesn’t know what he’s doing half the time, and the other half he doesn’t give a shit about killing soldiers, smiling and laughing while shooting people.

It isn’t just that the scene with Le Cabuc doesn’t exist, Enjolras doesn’t seem to have empathy, which is all given to Grantaire instead.

By taking away Enjolras’s vulnerability, his complexity, they make him seem more shallow overall, and in tow, make his cause lose importance.

And without a clear political standpoint, because his expositions about the situation are very shout-y and unclear, and his speeches are summarized with some actual quotes but without their meaning and true feeling, he seems to be fighting just because, rather than having strong ideals.

Enjolras in the brick is eloquent enough, humane enough, that you understand what he’s doing and why. This Enjolras is a mess that I couldn’t understand at all.

I don’t think people who have never seen, read or heard of Les Mis before will understand Enjolras as a character through this. He’s just a very angry student with weird facial hair (why?) who rants in a cafe while his friends are playing games and making jokes, who is friends with some workers and is the leader because he shouts the loudest but doesn’t seem to know what he’s doing.

And, worst of all, doesn’t seem to care for human life. Which brings me to the next bit...

3. Grantaire

Man, was I excited with this casting choice.

When I heard Turlough was playing Grantaire, I was delighted. And, at the end of the day, his performance was very good, but for a character who wasn’t quite Grantaire at times.

I mean, he wasn’t as off as Enjolras, but he was also so erratically written.

They decided to make Grantaire hesitant rather than a cynic. He didn’t get to express his cynicism or his attachment to his friends (what friends though? only Bossuet had a name other than Courfeyrac and Enjolras) and his involvement with the fight was shown as insecure rather than questioning of ideals.

He is shown conflicted when he decides to fight with them, he doesn’t have any of his long speeches, the Barrière du Maine scene or anything of the sort. He is just...hesitant about death, I guess. About dying and killing people. That’s his conflict.

This has, to me, two big problems attached to it.

First, it’s a simplification of the entirety of Grantaire’s thoughts. It’s taking the cornucopia of drunken philosophy that Grantaire’s voice in the brick represents and replacing it with a single fear, which while very valid doesn’t reflect Grantaire’s true extensive complexities.

Second, it takes away from Enjolras’s humanity. Enjolras is showcased as an indiscriminate machine of shooting soldiers while Grantaire is conflicted about having to do this and, in tow, makes Enjolras’s rejection of him when he leaves and gets drunk like a jerk move of an insensitive asshole.

There isn’t a clear instance of Enjolras giving Grantaire a chance to do something before the barricade and Grantaire failing at it, with all the dominoes symbolism and all the stuff it implies. There isn’t a complementary set of complexities between each other. Grantaire seems to care about human life more than Enjolras does in this version, at the end of the day, because Enjolras’s speeches, even if carrying canon quotes, are inserted in a context in which he laughs while shooting people, knowingly sends Gavroche into danger and chastises Grantaire for being conflicted about human lives at stake.

So, instead of representing Grantaire’s true complexity as a character, they chose to give him something else that they think makes him more dimensional, when, in reality, takes away from his (and Enjolras’s) worth as a character.

All of this is very weirdly intersected with drunken jokes. Sometimes, the jokes and the behavior pays off and is inserted in good moments, sometimes they just don’t know when to stop and they kind of ruin their death scene with them, which is even worse considering it’s one of the few where they’re actually holding hands.

Overall, I think this was a simplification of Grantaire, in a way, a simplification which falls apart without a solid context to exist in. And it’s a pity, because Turlough was good.

4. Gavroche

The only reason I’d want an immediate new adaptation of Les Mis is so we can cast this same Gavroche in a decent one. He’s one of the best Gavroches I’ve ever seen, hands down.

In this case, the problem isn’t with his interpretation or how he was written, necessarily, and all time frame and socio-political simplifications aside, the problem is in how the context reacts to him.

A lot of Gavroche’s agency is deleted in this version.

For starters, his age is kind of all over the place at the beginning. He’s fine by the time of the barricade, but before it’s kind of a mess. As a result, he lives with his parents for a bit longer than necessary and the few times we see him on his own, being his independent self, are in conflict with how his involvement in the main events come to happen.

It feels as if he’s been used in the barricade. When he’s off to find bullets, only Marius tries to get him back to safety, while the rest cheer him and laugh.

His character is well performed and we get to see his personality and his situation when he’s allowed to act on his own, but within the context he’s inserted in, he seems more like a prop than a character.

This makes it so that when he dies, you’re upset more so than sad. It doesn’t feel like a tragic circumstance born out of a lot of layers of social strife which culminate in a dead end for a kid who deserved a better life. It feels like every adult around him, every person he encounters, either neglects him, mistreats him or sends him into danger. It feels, much like with Fantine, like an easily avoidable situation.

And things get worse with this guy:

Like I said in my summary, this David Harbour-ish soldier is the one who is shown to mercilessly kill both Gavroche and execute Enjolras and Grantaire.

This is another layer in the modus operandi of an adaptation who uses social oppression and political strife as shock value rather than commentary and discourse.

By personalizing “evil” in one stern, mean, unreasonable, power-hungry soldier, they’re villanizing (and trivializing) the social context as a whole. It isn’t about how Gavroche got to that point, how we as a society failed so hard that he has to die in that way. It’s just one bad guy.

But then, they try to be fake deep about it, by doing that last scene with his brothers or by placing him alongside Mabeuf and Éponine but not explaining what that means, why those juxtapositions are socially relevant and important to the plot (maybe they don’t know why).

Overall, this was such a waste of a great Gavroche that I just feel really bad. Reece deserved so much better.

5. The barricade

Needless to say, this barricade was more of a mess than you would have expected.

The lack of proper introduction to the political landscape, the clumsy exposition, the out of context shout-y speeches and the erratic behavior of its characters, paired together with the fact that it ends about 1/4 into the last episode, giving more time to personal drama than any of what happens in it, makes it one confusing mess.

It’s also in the barricade where it’s super clear how visually similar this series is to the 2012 movie. A lot of visual choices are extremely similar, even when they didn’t need to be (Fantine’s and Cosette’s hair choices? the shots in the hulks? the scaled down yet very similar camera angles and movements during the entire fight? the color schemes of some particular scenes?), and it’s pretty heightened in this barricade.

Which I wouldn’t care about hadn’t they talked crap about the movie during their entire PR campaign.

Like I said, there were so many issues within the people involved in the barricade. With the women, with the characters, with the soldiers. There was also a very strangely set line between workers and students that they were very clumsy about setting yet didn’t get to do much aside from having the leader of the working class men leave when Enjolras prompted it.

By the way, Enjolras was a lot less convinced about the whole ordeal in this version, which made his characterization even more confusing.

The barricade had a lot of messed up ingredients and not enough time to even simmer. At least the musical, which doesn’t have a lot of time dedicated to the students either, has Drink With Me, which doesn’t only serve as a way to characterize different students and their beliefs and personalities (“Is your life just one more lie?”) but also brings some melancholic change of pace, a pause between the action.

The highlight of this barricade, though, is Marius going apeshit with the torch.

But, all in all, there’s no much we can expect from a barricade born of confused ideas and even more confusing characterizations. This barricade feels less like a climax and more like a thing they had to do because it was in the book.

And don’t even make me talk about how they butchered my favorite speech. I’d rather not have it there at all, tbh.

Conclusion: A writer’s ego

We arrive to the end of this long and boring trip through my thoughts. If you’re reached this point, thank you for your time.

All in all, I feel like a lot of the issues of this adaptation stem from the fact that Davies thinks he’s better than everyone else and other men around him agree so much that they let him do as he pleases, without questioning anything.

I can’t really understand how you’re going through the script of this and see some of these choices (like the dress shop scene, the carriage scene and let’s not even mention the peeing in the park scene) and you go, and I’m quoting Shankland here:

“Andrew’s scripts made these characters feel modern. That was nothing to do with having them speak in a very modern way or changing their behaviour, he just found the humanity and earthiness of it,” Shankland says, recalling a scene in which Fantine and her companions urinate in a Paris park. “I thought, ‘Oh god, they’re going to pee in Les Misérables, that’s exciting.’” Source

That just sums it all up, doesn’t it?

After I watched this, I let some time pass. I watched all 3 fanmade adaptations that are currently out at this moment (back to back), revisited some of the ones I had seen before, read fics, read people’s articles and rants, looked into other adaptations on stage, from the classic ones to the more interpretative versions, and other current tv adaptations being done in other countries.

All of those things are vastly different. Some are more similar to each other, some are widely different, but they’re all different points of view on the same canon.

This is a canon that has some of the wildest possible interpretations coexisting. You can have a play centered on one specific character told through the songs of a specific album, a tv drama in modern times with a lawyer Valjean, a coffee shop au starring Les Amis, a parody comedy set in 1832, all happening at the same exact time.

And that’s great. That’s fascinating. That means this book is still alive because we need it still today.

Some days you’re in the mood for a heavily political adaptation which gives you goosebumps for setting canon in a context that is closer to your everyday reality, other days you just want all the Amis to live and have movie marathons cuddled together. It’s all valid.

But what all of those adaptations have in common is that they aren’t trying to be more than they are. They aren’t acting brand new, they aren’t pretending they’re re-inventing the wheel or that they are smarter than Victor Hugo himself because what Hugo didn’t know he needed in the “psychology of the book” was a soulmate au or a documentary series.

This adaptation, through what they said and how it was written, acted as if it was going to be the ultimate Les Mis adaptation to end them all. It presented itself as smarter than us all, as holding the keys to the meaning of Victor Hugo’s thoughts, as being able to fix his “mistakes”, fix other adaptation’s “mistakes” and deliver the best interpretation of canon possible.

And it managed to be a sexist, socially insensitive, problematic, un-political, homophobic mess.

Which, is a problem in itself, but even more so when the canon you’re adapting should be, first and foremost, against all that. It isn’t about how many brick quotes you use, it’s about channeling the soul of the story.

#les mis #les miserables #les mis bbc #les mis bbc a summary #jean valjean #cosette #fantine #eponine #marius pontmercy #enjolras #grantaire #gavroche #death cw #long post when expanded #luly rambles #bbc les mis

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searchingwardrobes · 5 years

Text

Natural Opposite: 9/16

The dance I invented for this chapter is probably my favorite. One, because it’s to a Nirvana song, and as a nineties teen, I LOVE Nirvana. And second, my dance background is more in this style (contemporary) than in ballroom. I hope you enjoy reading it and the way it brings Emma and Killian closer together!

Thanks to my beta @distant-rose who loved this Nirvana dance almost as much as I did. Ro, our music chats were such a fun part of doing this with you! I’m glad we have similar tastes. And my artist, @optomisticgirl girl, is so talented and perfectly captured a dance that was only in my head beautifully for this chapter. Thank you, B! She also made that gorgeous banner you see every Monday!

Chapter art:

Ch 2

Ch 4

Ch 5

Ch 6

Ch 7

Summary: Dance is more than Emma Swan’s career; it’s practically saved her life on more than one occasion. But when it comes to reality TV shows, she’s always danced in the shadows of her twin brother David and her sister Elsa. Her first season as a pro on Dancing With the Stars was a disaster, and she enters her second season determined to prove herself. All she needs is a good partner. Hollywood bad boy and ladies’ man Killian Jones isn’t what she had in mind.

Rating: M for mature themes, steamy dance routines, and sexy times (But NOT smut)

Trigger warnings: discussions of online solicitation of a minor, bullying, statutory rape, and emotionally abusive/controlling relationships; stalking; anti-Rumbelle, anti-Neal

Can also be read on

Ao3

Tagging: @bethacaciakay @kmomof4 @teamhook @kmomof4 @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kday426 @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @jennjenn615 @followbatb @onceuponaprincessworld @hollyethecurious @ohmakemeahercules

Chapter Nine: Heart Shaped Box

Killian grinned widely at Emma when he arrived for their rehearsal the next day. She returned it and gave him a small hug in greeting, and she couldn’t say it was just for the cameras. As much as she hated to admit it, she found herself looking forward to their rehearsals. They actually had fun together. Yeah, he still drove her crazy sometimes, but he also made her laugh. Last week, Killian had summed it up in a teasing remark.

“You know, Swan, I quite fancy you from time to time. When you’re not yelling at me.”

Henry’s observation about him “liking” her rose to mind, but she quickly pressed that down. Flirting, she had come to find out, was his autopilot. And like her sarcasm, it was largely a defense mechanism.

“Sorry we have to rehearse so early,” Killian told her, “but . . . I brought a peace offering.” He extended a styrofoam to-go cup.

“Coffee?” she asked, with a tilt of her head as she accepted the offering.

“Please, Swan, are you trying to test me? It’s hot chocolate,” he said, tapping the plastic lid teasingly, “with whipped cream and cinnamon.”

“I must say, I’m impressed,” she told him as she took a sip, “and I like the early rehearsal. It means I get to pick up Henry from school this afternoon.”

“I’m glad,” Killian replied, but then he blinked and rubbed his eyes, “although I hope the coffee I consumed on the way here kicks in soon. Filming went into the wee hours this morning.”

Emma frowned. “Be sure you’re taking care of yourself. I know this show is grueling, especially when you have other commitments.”

“I’ll try,” he promised with a weary smile, “though I go straight from six hours with you back to the studio for four more hours on green screen. I’ll be glad when the hiatus begins. If I haven’t gotten voted off by then.”

Emma waved her hand dismissively as she set her hot chocolate down beside her dance bag. “Please. We’re making it to the finale, Jones, I’m telling you.”

“Okay,” Killian said with a smile, “let’s get to work then. It’s decades week, so what decade did we get?”

“The 90s.”

Killian’s brow furrowed. “The 90s.”

“Why? You don’t like the nineties?”

Killian shrugged. “Well, that depends. Are we talking flannel, angst-ridden, grunge nineties? Or boy bands, bubblegum pop, dark lipstick nineties?”

Emma laughed. “Well, don’t you know the decade well! What if I said we were dancing to ‘Heart Shaped Box’ by Nirvana?”

Killian’s eyes lit up like a kid at Christmas. “Yes!” he enthused, pumping both fists.

“So Killian Jones likes angst,” she teased, “good to know.”

“Well, if you were going to make me dance to ‘MmBop,’ you may have had a mutiny on your hands.”

“Well, the cool thing about this dance is also that it’s contemporary. And believe me, angst works well with contemporary.”

Killian nodded, his face suddenly determined. “You can get really creative with this, Swan, that’s exciting.”

Emma put her hands on her hips and studied him silently for a few moments. The corner of her mouth quirked up when he almost started to squirm under her gaze.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he finally asked.

“How would you like to choreograph this dance with me?”

Killian’s eyes grew wide. “Are you serious?”

“Sure. You’re a performer and a musician.” She winked. “And you like angst.”

He gave her a smile she had yet to see on his face. It was genuine, as if he were truly touched by her offer. “I’d be honored, Swan.”

She cleared her throat, slightly unnerved at how much she liked this new smile on him. “Well, let’s figure out the story we’re trying to tell first.”

“Well, the lyrics are pretty dark.”

“Of course they are,” Emma said with a roll of her eyes, “it’s Nirvana.”

“Aye,” Killian chuckled, “and it’s also about a relationship. One that isn’t making either person happy, yet they stay together anyway.”

Emma swallowed hard. She knew the feeling.

“The man says he has complaints, yet then he turns around and says he’s in debt to her,” Killian continued.

Emma nodded. She had already listened to the song multiple times. “He talks about her having a cord around his neck, yet he climbs right back.”

“An umbilical noose, to be precise.”

Emma wrinkled her nose, “I know, but ew! Why did grunge bands use such sick and twisted images? He talks about eating her cancer, too.”

“They were pushing the envelope. It’s what every revolutionary period in music has done.”

Emma shook her head and smiled. “I better watch out. I’m treading into your area of expertise.”

Killian scratched the spot behind his ear. “Well, this is the genre of music I first learned to play on my guitar. I told you I was a bit morose.”

Her face softened at that. She remembered too well the lonely years before Ingrid. She could see why dark music would appeal to a lonely kid.

“So we’ve got a man who feels trapped in a relationship,” Emma replied, switching topics back to brainstorming for the routine.

“Hence the heart shaped box.”

“But I like what you said,” Emma continued, “about neither of them being happy. I think that should be our story. We’re a couple who aren’t good for each other, but we stay together anyway –“

“ – because we’re afraid of being alone,” Killian finished for her.

Emma smiled and then gave him a gentle slap on the shoulder. “You were right, Jones, we do make quite the team.”

“Or maybe,” he said softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “this topic strikes a little too close to home for both of us. Loneliness.”

Emma blinked and took a step back. Her heart pounded rapidly in her chest. Her hands clenched and unclenched as her mind tried to come up with a response.

Killian gave her his trademark crooked grin and quirked brow. “I mean, who wouldn’t crave loneliness when you’ve got cameras recording your every move?”

A slow smile spread across Emma’s face. “Right. Okay, Jones, let’s figure out the first eight counts.”

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

It was the day of the show, and Emma and Killian sat on a dingy sofa set up on the dance floor hand in hand, waiting to be announced. Around them, the set department had created a living room in a rundown apartment circa 1995. Killian was dressed in faded jeans and a Nirvana t-shirt (of course). Emma wore black leggings and a plaid shirt, unbuttoned and tied at her waist. Underneath it she wore a black sequined bra top.

“You know,” Killian teased, fingering the tied ends of her shirt, “I don’t recall black sequined bras being a fashion statement in the nineties.”

“Well, not all of us are old enough to remember the nineties, old man,” Emma teased back.

“You wound me, Swan! I’m only thirty-five!”

Emma just laughed and rolled her eyes at his mock-offended expression. Behind them, the video package played of their rehearsal week. Just as she had expected, it opened with Killian finding her backstage last week after their Tangled routine. The expression on his face, which she hadn’t seen for herself at the time, was tender as he put his arms around her. It also showed their hug when he brought her coffee, and Killian tucking her hair behind her ear. They also played up the emotional portions of their choreography, showing embraces in super slow-motion. Emma rolled her eyes. It was ridiculous the way they were playing it all up like some sort of romantic comedy.

“Dancing a contemporary routine,” boomed the announcer, “Killian Jones and his partner Emma.”

She wished there were a commercial break so she would have a little more time to put the video package out of her mind. Killian gave her hand a squeeze, and she nodded, pressing her lips together. He relinquished her hand, and they both stared blankly forward as the lights came up and the music started.

The music producers were using a recording of the actual song performed by Nirvana. The live band just couldn’t capture the dissonance or the gravely sound of Kurt Cobain’s voice. She eyes me like a Pisces when I am weak. Cobain’s broody voice filled the room as Emma and Killian slid off the couch and onto the floor. For the remainder of the dance, they pushed and pulled on one another, neither of them able to stray very far from the couch, which of course symbolized their toxic relationship. They used the couch often, beating it with their fists, jumping on and off it, falling and sliding from it. Then the dance ended as it had begun, both of them sitting, staring blankly forward. The overhead lights dimmed as other lights flickered in front of them, meant to look like a television playing.

When the music faded out and all the lights came up, Killian leapt up in excitement. Emma, however, felt herself suddenly drained of emotion. If Killian hadn’t pulled her to her feet and embraced her, she may have kept right on sitting there. She felt as if her heart had just been exposed. She blinked as Killian cupped her head, whispering in her ear how “brilliant, bloody amazing,” she was. Somehow, that snapped her out of her daze. She thought about the woman in the song and her heart shaped box. She took a deep breath, and stuffed her own heart back inside of hers.

As Killian led her over to Marco so they could face the judges, her limbs once again cooperated, and she plastered her “performance smile” on her face. She really was proud of Killian. Not only the way he just danced that, but his creativity in helping her with the choreography. She put her arm around him and squeezed him around the waist. They both struggled to breath; the routine had been intense and the movement had never really stopped.

So it took them a minute to register that all three judges were on their feet, clapping. Emma blinked; even Blue seemed moved almost to tears. They all sat and Emma gnawed nervously on her lower lip as Teach began.

“That was artistry, pure and simple. I’ll be straight with you Jones, I didn’t think you would cut it on this show. I wanted to hate you. But that? That was dancing. Amazing dancing. Well done!”

Emma gave Killian a happy little shove, and he beamed down at her with a huge smile on his sweaty face.

Tiana was literally crying and struggled to begin her critique. “That is what dance is supposed to be. I can’t believe you’re the same dancer you were three weeks ago. Remember when I said you weren’t opening up? Well, you took what I said to heart, and you have grown remarkably. And Emma? That choreography was genius. You deserve an Emmy for that.”

Emma was shocked when Killian pressed a kiss to her cheek, nodding vigorously in agreement. Emma grabbed Marco’s microphone.

“I do want to remind everyone that Killian helped me with the choreography, so thank you Tiana, but I have to give this guy credit too.”

Killian pulled her closer and pressed another kiss to the top of her head as the audience cheered. Once it died down a little, Blue gave her review.

“Look, I’m a traditionalist. I like to see ballroom and strictly ballroom. However, you danced that full out, and you were completely in sync with your partner throughout. Not my cup of tea, but I’m impressed.”

Since the decade week dances were performed in chronological order, and they had been assigned the nineties, their routine was the last one of the night. That meant no time for an interview with Ashley, and the judges gave them their scores right there on the dance floor.

“Tiana Sabine,” the announcer intoned dramatically.

Tiana seemed to pause an inordinately long amount of time before revealing her paddle. But when she did, she did so with flourish. “TEN!”

The studio audience went wild with excitement! The first ten of the season! Killian whooped and picked Emma up off her feet in a tight hug. Once everyone settled down, Blue gave her score of nine and Teach, amazingly, also gave them a perfect ten. It was the highest score of the season so far.

There was no time for an interview with either Marco or Ashley. Emma was relieved, worried she may have had to field questions about the very misleading implications of their video package. The couples all lined up, and for the first time, Emma was nervous about the double elimination. However, she didn’t have to worry. Gold and Ruby were voted off, to no one’s surprise, and then David and his Disney channel star Violet. The second one was a surprise, and the fifteen year old sobbed with disappointment. Emma was glad for the distraction as everyone surrounded the poor girl to console her. She still felt a little emotionally raw after that dance. And maybe it was the way the video package had been edited, but was Killian giving her an awful lot of casual affection recently?

According to social media, he was. By the next morning the two of them were the number one trending “couple” on both twitter and tumblr. Emma blushed as she read through the comments.

“Anyone else out there shipping Killian Jones with his dancing partner?” - @killianjonesandfairydust

“OMG! I ship it so hard!” - @neverland4evr

“Did you see the PDA last night? That was a lot of hugs and kisses!” - @hookNtink4life

They even had a shipping name: Captain Swan. And surprisingly, there were no longer any threats upon her life. She wasn’t sure where the Killer Rose shippers had gone, but there was only one remotely threatening theme among Killian’s “hookers.”

“She better not break his heart.” - @yeahiamahooker

But the only heart Emma was worried about was her own.

#2018 csbb #csbb #cs ff #modern au #dancing with the stars au #enemies to friends to lovers #natural opposite #searchingwardrobes

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