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augment-techs · 3 months

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what i watched/read in january

Saint Maud: 5/5 Quite the parlor trick that I spent the whole buildup to actually seeing it believing it couldn't possibly be as psychologically intense and questionable as people were making it out to be and--what do you know? I was actually drawn in an surprised. Especially by the "demonic possession" and "angel wings" leading up to the final scene.

Grabbed: Poets & Writers on Sexual Assault, Empowerment, and Healing, ed. by Blanco, Moro, Moustaki, and Albo: 5/5 This was all very moving and left me with much to think about. It didn't just take points from the female pov, but also the male and--I think?--trans and nonbinary. The poetry in itself was a surprise, the essays and confessions something more what I was thinking of. It was hard to choose my favorites from the lot, but the poem by Michael O'Mara using Pink stands out the most.

Shades of Blue: Writers on Depression, Suicide, and Feeling Blue, ed. by Amy Ferris: 5/5 Okay, I'm not going to lie, I read through this entire book and while all of them were deeply meaningful, the one that stuck in my brain was the one that included a knock-knock joke-- "Knock knock/Who's There?/Boo./Boo who?/Just boo, you dope. You're a ghost." -by judywhite-- Which...is kind of horrible, and yet stupidly endearing?

Frankie Drake Mysteries, season 4: 4/5 Okay, I really, really, really wanted to love this season, which is apparently the last we're getting from this series, but, like, apparently they HAD warning that they weren't getting a fifth season, had time to wrap up most loose ends and STILL left us with this COMPLETE BULLSHIT ENDING?! WTF?

My Neighbor: Art Inspired by the Films of Miyazaki: 3/5 I mean, some of this was very good, but this was not at all what I was expecting and it was kind of a let down that I had to order this from out of state from my library. I thought this was an essay AND art collective.

Humans, by Brandon Stanton: 5/5 I'm always reading and rereading this, and it never gets old and is always giving me something new to notice and think about. On this particular reread, the photos and people that stood out the most were a small child in New York in a lion costume who was quoted saying, "There's nothing hard about being four;" then a group shot of two boys and a girl I think in the Middle East, one of the boys saying, "We let her pick," while all three smile, holding up a kite with Barbie on it; and then a picture of a man just sitting against a building with a really beautiful anecdote he gave about reading tarot cards to make a living in New York city wherein he believes in the card, but not in the way fortune tellers do, "I believe in them like you'd believe in a poem. I believe in their aesthetics."

Eat a Peach: a Memoir, by David Chang: 5/5 Being a chef and restaurant owner and believing in the work while also having mental illness. I haven't read this kind of memoir before from the Korean immigrant perspective and this went much better than I would have thought. Mostly because I did not expect this to be so FUNNY in some places. I thought it would be lyrical (which it was) or quite philosophic (which it was) but the book cover--which was beautiful--kind of made me think this would read like a Sisyphean tragedy. Which it really wasn't. And also some of his analogies--especially the one about a Hogwarts Culinary Dark Arts Class--are going to be stuck in my brain for a while.

Calling Doctor Laura: A Graphic Memoir, by Nicole Georges: 3/5 Oh to be a young queer woman at the turn of the century whose mother is almost certainly an untreated narcissist with BPD and whose girlfriend was most definitely cheating on her while she worked out trying to get the truth about her not-actually-dead father while sifting through very unpleasant memories of neglect and emotional abuse. Not a fan of the art style, but the story was at least honest.

Cheshire Crossing, by Andy Weir & Sarah Andersen: 5/5 TEN-THOUSAND blessings on writers who both admit to writing fanfiction on their opening introduction AND an art style where the cast was presented as 80% poc, INCLUDING Alice & Dorothy themselves, while presenting Wendy as queer. YES TO ALL OF THIS.

How to Be an Artist, by Jerry Saltz: 4/5 Actually a very good collective for advice and practice, though I might disagree with some of the rules...just...a bit.

The Wendy Project, by Osborne & Fish: 4/5 A story of young grief in the aftermath of an accident. A modern retelling of Peter Pan, but without the explanation of separating grief and breakdown from reality...such as it is. I was actually rather pleased to see the more "human" Peter ignored for the sake of the Wendy.

The Girl Who Married a Skull and Other African Stories: ratings run from 1/5 to 6/5 depending on the artist and story. My favorites of the lot were The Disobedient Daughter Who Married a Skull, by Nicole Chartland--which was beautiful and did NOT end in marriage, but did end in love--and Concerning the Hawk and the Owl, by Meredith McClaren--which was incredibly lovely and had very little NEED of words.

Kimi Can't Communicate vol. 16, by Oda Tomohito: 5/5 Best parts about this would be: -Tadano playing the sports festival and getting crushed on HARD by Manbagi, Katai, and Komi. -Maeda, the school's top sprinter, having a thing for GILFs. -Suteno not giving Tadano a single thought and getting his headband taken without Tadano even blinking. -EVERYONE (bar Komi and Manbagi) feeding Tadano lunch. -The first time Tadano pats Komi on the head = KOMI WANTS MORE!! -Return to the Cat Café, complete with Manbagi getting a little pervert tomcat and Tadano once again pulling in the prettiest kitty in the area by being himself. -Shousuke and his Dad have a Father-Son day--and it becomes very obvious that Shousuke totally deserves Hitomi as the only curse he'll ever get. -Emoi Awards. -Tadano saves Manbagi's goldfish. -The whole voting process for the Culture Festival--once more, Komi is made to be the golden idol. -The Rehearsal of Najimi's play and The Cold-Blooded Princess. -It might be for the play, but Komi finally tells Tadano, "I like you."

The Vincent van Gogh overseas history DVD: 3/5 I suppose this is useful in terms of understanding and reference, but I didn't much care for the directing and editing style.

Big Trouble in Little China: 5/5 I FINALLY get to watch the movie with the women that have green eyes sacrificed to a dragon spirit in the name of a dark sorcerer cursed for over a thousand years in San Francisco. I haven't seen this movie since I was in kindergarten and should never have watched it to begin with. It is infinitely more entertaining and unpredictable than most anything coming out of the industry today. I had totally forgotten that Samantha from Sex and the City and Steve Stronghold from Sky High were acting here. I cannot believe John "Halloween" Carpenter directed this.

Disney's A Twisted Tale Anthology: -What if Snow White Learned Magic: 3/5 -What if Mulan became the Emperor's Advisor: 4/5 -What if Remy met Colette First: 5/5 -What if Anastasia had a change of Heart: 4/5 -What if Jim Hawkins joined the Pirates: 2/5 -What if history wasn't Quite Right about Robin Hood: 4/5 -What if Eric met Ariel after she rescued him: 3/5 -What if Tinkerbell was working for Captain Hook: 3/5 -What if Naveen had to get home to Maldonia: 5/5 -What if the Triplets visited the Witch: 3/5 -What if Madam Mim and Merlin wet to school together: 3/5 -What if Belle had to take her father's place at the fair: 3/5 -What if Hercules's first day as a god didn't go as planned: 2/5 -What if Bambi didn't want to be a Great Prince: 5/5 -What if Aurora knew about the curse: 4/5

Komi Can't Communicate vol. 15, by Oda Tomohito: 5/5 -Isagi is introduced with a HUGE arc to become Student Council President -Isagi has poor communication/OCD/Extreme germaphobia and touch aversion -Ase presents and comes through as Isagi's Truest Friend -Tadano sees Pretty Cat Komi -Yamai gets Komi to play Twister with her...in the school hallway...and passes out when she gets EXACTLY what she wants -Hitomi initiates a Shousuke/Ai + Hitomi & Yamada "date night" complete with coffee drinks, prize games (Hitomi won Ai a stuffed panda) and a movie at the theater -Ai had fun~ -Isagi plays Rock/Paper/Scissors/Hammer/Helmet against the entire class and WINS -Najimi insists on Isagi keeping the hammer (she's too good not to have it) -The previous Class President is utterly TERRIBLE at her job -The class take glamor shots together in an effort to get Isagi to smile for her election photo; but only managed to get a very on point shot of her menacing Najimi (which works better) -Isagi forgot to choose her campaign representative, but as usual, BLESS TADANO, "Don't worry about it. We don't care who you pick." -Isagi wins after a truly heartfelt speech from Ase. -Time for school physicals; Tadano is a half inch taller than Komi (who is SO GLAD) -Manbagi stresses about her crush on Tadano -Komi and Shousuke are forced by their mother to invite friends to dinner; Komi invited Manbagi, Ase, and Tadano...Shousuke ONLY invited Yamada, but Hitomi being Hitomi invited herself and Ai -Tadano gets to shine as the most polite person on the planet by being the ONLY PERSON at the table to say Yamada Sanjurokuro's name correctly (which may or may not lead to yet another crush on him; bringing his fan club up to, what, twelve now?)

Komi Can't Communicate vol. 14, by Oda Tomohito: 5/5 -The only thing that keeps sinking into my brain about this particular issue is the entire fair situation wherein Tadano, Komi, Manbagi, and Katai get sucked into working at Agari's aunt's food stall by Najimi. -Fushima continues to cheer on Katai/Tadano from the sidelines (and me along with her). -But the kicker is Manbagi finally warming up to Tadano and Hitomi & Onemine & Sasaki & Sato FREAKING OUT -Komi is just glad they get along -Hitomi is glad that Tadano continues to be Tadano and does not understand the concept of ANYONE having a crush on him. This precious boy.

Komi Can't Communicate vol. 13, by Oda Tomohito: 4/5 -It was fucking MAJESTIC to see Nakanaka playing around with an umbrella after sunset like a gun, running aground of the Four Monarchs, an out of town city woman playing dead when she said, "BANG!" to be polite--and her running away as fast as she could with the Monarchs finding the situation quite interesting but the woman on the ground wondering when she could get up again. -Najimi sets up a horror challenge at Katai's WITHOUT ASKING HIM--but it's fine. His friends are proud of him and he is so SOFT.

Komi Can't Communicate vol. 11, by Oda Tomohito: 5/5 -Summer vacation wherein the Komi and Tadano family end up at the same outdoor game park. -Hitomi continues to be Shousuke's unwanted but entirely necessary cheerleader. -Komi unlocks a kink by seeing the rim of Tadano's underwear. -Nakanaka/Yamai is VERY encouraged by Sukida (and myself as well). -The Four Monarchs are introduced to the class and it is SO fucking funny watching them fail to impress or scare ANYONE in this new class. Especially Tadano; it is so awesome.

3 Generations DVD: 4/5 A lesbian, poly, trans family making their way through the son's transition and the messy secrets the mother left behind in an effort to get written permission to start testosterone. I'm a little sad that the main actor wasn't actually trans but...Elle Fanning is still Elle Fanning, so the acting was *chef's kiss*.

Pawn Sacrifice DVD: 5/5 I already wanted to punch Bobby Fischer when he was alive for being both a genius and the biggest fucking asshole, but Toby Maguire was a fucking majestic BEAST in this piece illustrating opposite Liev Scheiber just HOW MUCH chess players during the Cold War did not inspire envy. Every actor in this film was a blessing, but DAMN, these two are awesome.

Little Panic: A Memoir, by Amanda Stern: 4/5 Oh, holy shit; I knew the 80s were terrible for women, but to have an anxiety disorder on top of a learning disorder in New York's East Village at the time was nothing short of just AWFUL.

The New York Regional Mormon Singles Halloween Dance: A Memoir, by Elna Baker: 4/5 This is useful in being a funny and darkly honest commentary/critique of diet culture, New York single life, religion, growth, and cues into life in-between. But All the way through I could not help but feel a little bit irked by the author.

From Boys to Men, edit. by Ted Gideonse & Rob Williams: 5/5 My fourth time reading this and it gets better every single time--especially in that these are queer men of all ages, races, and types, and just feels NICE. -The Story I Told Myself, by Soehnlein: inventing the self through playing with the little people in your head to make some pretty awesome soap operas -Sleeping Eros, by McAllister: considerations on divorce and brotherhood and a father who might have also been gay -Preppies are my Weakness, by Dolby: the essay that basically promises that those you're attracted to at ages 14-17 are Your Type (interestingly, for those of my mutuals reading this; I kept picturing Billy Cranston and Jason Scott, even though Jason would NEVER treat Billy like that). -Barbie Girls, by E.K. Anderson: Mid-80s realizing the politics of "romance" at age 11 and meeting a kindred soul at summer camp -Signs, by R.C. Green: exploring sexuality from the POV of an inner city, poc athlete that had a LOT of anger and internalized homophobia -And much, much, MUCH more.

A Gift From a Ghost, by Borja Gonzalez: 6/5 This is such a beautiful graphic novel for the consideration of how the future is a reflection of the past and how the past has little touches of understanding the future. Possibly it is also a thought piece on reincarnation? Dimensions and time spotting? Either way, the choice for the characters to be faceless and wit the looks of very pretty mannequins while building up the surroundings and wardrobe was MAGNIFICENT.

Change the Game, by Kaepernick: 4/5: A graphic memoir about the growth of a black football player from a white family who would eventually take the knee in protest to racist, sexist, political lashings. Not my favorite art style, but I can appreciate the lighting and line technique.

Goodbye: A Story of Suicide of Hailee Joy Lamberth: 2/5 A good attempt at humanizing and rationalizing, but for me, personally, it was a little too bright, shiny, sanitized...And not to mention a bit self-indulgent.

The Books that Changed My Life, edit. by Bethanne Patrick: 5/5 I have my favorites in the writers and in the books they chose and in the essays they wrote on them. But Gillian Flynn, Margaret Atwood, Peter Coyote, and Sofia Coppola's choices were my favorites.

Komi Can't Communicate vol. 4, by Oda Tomohito: 5/5 -Komi and Tadano try and say each other's first name...and fail SPECTULARLY. -They swapped kitty keychains (a tabby and an ebony) -Inaka makes her first appearance in a Subway parody -Nakanaka/Yamai is establishing itself through Tadano trying to teach them "Komi Speak."

#reading lists #movie lists #my humble opinion #reference

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lilyflxwers · 1 year

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10 books to get to know me

thank you lovelies @messrsage and @fruity-individual for the tag <3

as good as dead - holly jackson

this book will always be in my top ten because it made me love reading again. it’s a third book in a series and the other two were good but I loved this one so much bc I really enjoy true crime and normally plot twists in books like these aren’t hard to guess but this one surprised me lmao.

the hunger games - susanna collins

Ik this is a basic answer but these books changed my little 13 year old life lmao. I was convinced that I could easily be katniss (expect like yk i lack basic life skills and the idea of being hunted for amusement gives me so much anxiety, I would simply pass away from heart failure).

gone - michael grant

yeah so this series fucked me up at 14 and I’ve never reread it but I could pretty much tell you word for word what it said lmao. The whole, being stuck in an area where no one over the age of 15 survived really worried me phahah. Again I did, in fact, decide I would have survived fine.

Red queen - Victoria avery

This one gets an honourable mention bc it’s the reason I got all my ear piercings done. As you can tell, I can’t normally read a book and I have to pretend I’m a character bc yk that’s healthy (and also a lot of untreated trauma) iconic Ik. Anyways yeah I don’t remember tonnes about this series and I never read the last book bc I read the series and fixated on it before that one was written and then I forgot it ever existed.

Song of Achilles - Madeline miller

Yeah. This book tore my heart out and then stomped all over it and then stabbed it a few thousand times. I read this book in a very bad time in my life and it helped me find the beauty of simplicity. And then yk they all died so that fucked with me a little.

the CIA and the culture of failure - John diamond

Honourable mention bc it gave me a fucking good argument in my thesis.

blood ties - Sophie mckenzie

Would not recommend this if ur over the age of like 12 BUT at 12 this book was my whole entire existence. I wanted to be a clone so bad. I read and read and read this book until the spine was ripped. Which, if you know anything about me, is the worst thing that could happen to a book. And then I made my sister read it so we could pretend to be clones. bc yk that’s a totally normal thing to do.

my sisters keeper - Jodi picoult

this book. this fucking book. if you haven’t read it please do. i did my alevel English lit coursework on this and it made me CRY. I don’t wanna ruin it so i won’t say too much. but the ending broke my soul.

we need to talk about Kevin - lionel shriver

Speaking of my English alevel, I also spent a year studying this fucker so I feel like it should have an honourable mention. fuck me this was a tough read emotionally bc it’s written from the perspective of a school shooters mother, but also physically bc it’s an epistolary novel (which like if you like epistolary then soz)

the sisterhood of the travelling pants - ash brashares

this series was like the first “proper” series I read on my own when I was like nine and I became obsessed with it. Like to an unhealthy extent. to this day I refuse to watch the film bc I’m so worried it’ll ruin my little nine year old experience of reading it lmao.

I tag anyone who sees this bc I’ve taken forever to do this and idk who has and hasn’t been tagged lmao :)

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fragmented-lullabies · 4 years

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It’s a profoundly strange feeling, to stumble across someone whose desires are shaped so closely to your own, like reaching toward your reflection in a mirror and finding warm flesh under your fingertips. If you should ever be lucky enough to find that magical, fearful symmetry, I hope you’re brave enough to grab it with both hands and not let go.

Alix E. Harrow, The Ten Thousand Doors of January

#the ten thousand doors of january #portal fantasy #alix e. harrow #book rec #books to read #literature #book recommendations #this is book is so beautiful i want to reread it a ten thousand times #quotes #love #soulmates

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rimaiahwrites · 3 years

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Untitled—

Chapter six

Erik slowly pulled his arm from underneath Israel's head without waking her then pulled the covers up to her face, since he had it freezing in his loft.

He swung his Heavy leg over the edge of his bed and stepped on his hard wood stairs that laid up to his bed slowly so it wouldn't creek or crack. He slipped away from the comfort of his bed and made it out of his room without a sound. Even though the sounds of his bare feet slapping against the floor in the hallway was still heard, Israel didn't make a move.

He flicked the lights on in the kitchen, and snatched the refrigerator door open. He mostly had vegetables, fruit and water. It had been like that since He had started a healthy life style after he came back from the navy.

He grabbed his glass bottle of water and chugged it down. That early morning thrust was real. After he was done he refilled the bottle of water before putting it back in the fridge for his afternoon workout.

Erik went back into the living room and pulled his rug back to reveal his hardwood floors. He pulled one of the wooden boards up and reach up inside to grab his father's old leather Journal. It was slightly beaten up from the many years of his father using it but none the less it was still very beautiful.

his balcony doors blow open from the Wind and he pulled the cream white Curtains back and stepped out. The air was cool but not to cold.

It felt good against his skin. Over the few markings that he had on his torso- about 400 plus, all in rows around his torso. Some were still healing and sensitive.

Erik was actually still surprised that Israel's nosey ass hadn't spotted them on him yet. He knew that once she had, she will ask him a Thousand and one questions about them. And Erik wasn't really ready for that since he knew he couldn't tell her the real reason he marked himself, at least not yet.

He sat in the big chair that he had hanging to the top of his roof. It swayed from side to side when it was windy or when ever Erik sown it himself. It was soothing though. His balcony was one of the places he liked to meditate and clear his mind. He could look down below, and see businessmen in suits and looking for a taxi, and kids heading off to school with big backpack bouncing against them from running to the bus stop. It was regular city life for him.

He loved the city but hated the memories it came with. He had lost to much in it. First his mother then his father, and so many of his childhood friends had lost their lives to the city they called home. So many time had the city almost taken his life as well, from being beaten on the street by police officers, or being held at gun point at 15, by a local drug dealer that Erik had considered one of his niggas.

The city had done him so wrong but yet here he was, still living in Oakland. Just in a better spot then the apartment that he had spent ten years of his life in.

Erik sighed and sat back down and open his father book. He liked to reread it to keep him motivated and focused on his Destiny. The foreign words of his father language, that he had learned to read over the years, popped out against the old- now brownish- paper. Erik flipped to the page titled, the prince is here.

My son, my prince, my happiness have finally arrived. More Beautiful then I could ever imagine, dark brown eyes like his mother and a head full of thick black kinky hair like me.

The happiness that spread through my body the moment my eyes laid on him I knew I was in love. This was a different type of love, not like the kind of love you have for your mother or your wife it was a kind of love that only a mother or father could have for their child-

Erik read with tears beaming his eyes. Not letting them fall once. Erik slammed the book shut clenching it in his hands, as he leaned forward staring at it. It didn't make him sad, it made his angry. He was so angry at his father and it confused him so deeply since he knew his father had no control over what happened to him.

Maybe it wasn't anger towards his father, but pain that he turned into anger like he always did. And he was tired of it, the anger that had been building up inside him ever since he found his father dead, on his Apartment floor with panther Panther claw marks in his chest, that came from the man his father called brother.

That's where his real anger was towards, his family. Erik couldn't even call it anger, it was rage. He knew that once he met his uncle all hell was going to break loss. All the pain and rage he had inside of him was going to be released. As soon as he got to wrap his hands around T'chaka fat ass neck, and hear that satisfying crunk that came after he squeeze with all his might. And then his cousin t'challa, was next because he knew that once he killed T'chaka his son was going to go after him. But he was going to prepared.

Israel rolled over on the bed and look over the loft bed. Erik wasn't in the living room or kitchen. She had thought that maybe he had left, until she saw the balcony curtains blow up from the door being open. She smiled slightly and peeled the thick blankets back and headed down the stairs. The little cracking sounds the wooden stairs made as she tip-toed down sparked Erik's interest, he closed the opened book again, and sat it behind the pillow he had on his swinging chair.

He leaned back into the door frame and spotted Israel on the stairs with a grin on her face. "Hi." She whispered softly so her voice didn't sound raspy from not talking for hours at a time.

"You always wake up in a good mood?" He asked getting up from the balcony ground and walking up to her. She chuckled and shrugged. "When I get a good night of sleep, yeah." She said looking down at him into his eyes, that were still slightly red from earlier. Since she was about three stairs above him, She placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned towards him. "Um...Thank you for last night, I had fun. It was the first time in a long time that I have felt like someone actually wanted to hang and spend time with me..." she admitted, looking down at his chest as she fiddled with his shirt. He rested his hands on her waist and squeezed lightly. "You don't have to thank me princess, I enjoy hanging wit' you." He spoke softly, brushing her face with his knuckles. Slightly pushing her face to the side.

Her gut felt bubbly with happiness, and her cheeks were starting to hurt with how hard she was smiling. And Erik only made it harder for her to stop from the way he was looking at her.

That look he gave her. The one were he would title his head like a puppy and lick his lips while keeping Direct eye contact.

The thigh clenching look if you will.

"You hungry?" He asked, picking her up and swinging her off the stairs to the bottom. "No not really, I don't like to eat breakfast that much because I'm never that hungry." She said sitting at the kitchen counter. His eyes raised and he turned to her.

"You gotta eat breakfast Israel, that's the most important meal of the day." She rolled her eyes because she had heard it so many time before from her mother. "I know I just don't like breakfast-"

"I'm making you breakfast, and you gon' eat it." Erik said turning around to the refrigerator to grab the stuff he needed.

And A word wasn't said as Erik handed Israel the plate of two prices of Turkey bacon one pancake, and a small glass of a mango kiwi and strawberry smoothie that he sweetened with orange juice.

He tried not to give her much but she still felt like it was to much food for right now. It he gave it to her at like 12 am in the afternoon she would most likely still be hungry afterwards.

She stared at the plate and then back at Erik, a pout on her lips. He nodded his head, as if telling her to go ahead and start eating. She sighed and grabbed a fork and began to eat, Erik as well. But his plate was stuffed. Three pancakes, three prices of bacon, and the rest of the plate was taken up by the four scrambled eggs. He was a big boy and needed all the food he could get.

"Is it good?" He asked, month full of food.

"Yeah, it's good even though your Force feeding me it." She chuckled taking another small bite. Erik gave her a close month smile, chewing his bacon aggressively.

"You'll get used to it, eventually your body will want to eat in the morning, anyway your parents call you yet?" She shook her head, taking a sip of her smoothie. "No, I don't know what's going on but hopefully my mother calls soon to fill me in and let me know they made it there safe." She said her thoughts wondering off a bit.

After they were done eating Erik decided he wanted to workout at his favorite boxing gym. So they both got dressed quickly, Israel just put on a white oversized t-shirt and a pair of gray leggings and her white nike sneakers, while Erik wore black baseball shorts a dark gray workout shirt and black running shoes.

Once Erik grabbed his bag they were at the door and headed to the gym.

Erik turned into the parking lot Of his boxing gym named the home of Apollo Creed. Israel raised her eyebrows but she went with it. Erik opened her door while he throwing his gym bag over his shoulder. "A boxing gym?" She questioned following him inside the cold building. There was about ten different sweating men hitting at punching bags or at their couch Gloved hands.

"Yes, that's what the sign says right?" He chuckled dropping his bag on the floor. She rolled her eyes at his slick reply and plopped Down on the bench near his gym bag, "you didn't tell me it was a boxing gym but k, smart ass." She mumbled, watching him watch her while he put on the thin black gloves that fighters put on before the actual boxing gloves. He was clearly not new at this because he wasn't paying much attention to his movements, he was staring at Israel. Something she had noticed he tends to do a lot. But they were even because she caught herself staring at him today more times then she'll like to amid.

"Come on," he smiled pulling her across the gym catching some of the busy men eyes, there was a couple of "damn Erik who dis?" And "this yo new girl?" Erik only grinned, winking at them. While Israel tried to hide herself behind him. Erik noticed and chuckled softly before hugging her to his side.

"You bout to get a couple of boxing lessons for free, by thee Erik Stevens." He sang playfully making her crack a smile. He turned around to look in the big box of gloves and found some pink ones from the little 15 year old girl that used to box here. They looked like they could fit. "Come here, gimme your hand." She slide both her hands in the glove and smiled at how cute they looked on her. "Tiny ass hands," Erik mumbled jokily making her roll her eyes and giggle. "Big ass hands...hulk smash face ass 'I'm Wreck-It' neck ass-" She shot back. he laughed loudly throwing his head back before telling her to "shut the hell up before I knock you out." She just rolled her eyes.

" Ok we're gonna start with a simple, 1,2." He explained taking jabs at the air, making his Biceps and man Titties bounce, In the form fitted workout shirt he changed into in the car. She copied the simple move but aiming at his hands this time. "Ok we gonna do that same move but with a duck added to it," he beamed, excited that she was catching on so soon. "Hit, hit, duck." She moved fast dodging his hand. "This is kinda fun but-" Israel began but was cut short by a high pitched voice and a light skin girl with long loss curls came walking to Erik.

"Erik?! Is that you?!? I haven't seen you in so long," she was so tall that she was almost Erik's height. Israel felt like a child standing next to them.

"This is my homegirl from back in the day, Erie." Israel smiled and waved shyly. "Aw is this your little sister?" Erie smiled sarcastically bending down a bit sticking her hand out for Israel to shake, Israel's smile dropped and things got awkward quickly when Israel didn't grab her hand and only stared at the girl.

"Um Nah this is a good friend of mine, but uh it was nice seeing you Erie." Erik chuckled while dismissing the girl trying to hold in his laughter.

"Oh...well I'll see you later I guess, you should Dm some Time so we can really catch up without..." She tailed off glancing at Israel before smirking at Erik and walking off, making sure to make her ass bounce with every step she took. Israel tore her eyes from her and rolled them. While Erik was busy starring at her ass Israel began to take her gloves off, using her teeth to undo the Velcro on her gloves. The tearing sound brought Erik's attention back to Israel. "What are you doing we still-"

"I'm not really feeling it anymore plus my arms are already getting tired." She huffed swinging her arms back and fourth trying to shake the 'soreness' out of them. Erik mumbled a "yeah already." knowing why she wasn't really feeling it anymore, he left her to sit on the ground while he went and found his trainer, RJ. Erik had been working with Him since he was 15, RJ was one of the only people that Erik felt like care for him when he was Foster care. RJ had found Erik fighting a boy a little older then him outside of a gas station and praised him for how good of a fight was and encouraged him to get into. Erik was definitely hesitant about it at first but RJ eventually convince Erik to do it especially since he was going to be training him for free. It was a way for Erik to blow off some steam with all the Pent up anger he had for the world, RJ was just happy to keep him off the streets. He knew the kid was A genius, he was too smart to end up in jail or dead.

It had been two hours since Erik had been training and two hours since Israel been sitting on the hard floor but she barely noticed the numbness in her butt and legs because she was to busy drooling over Erik's delicious body, it was shiny in sweat and his movements were Swift and fast. The faster he hit the punching bag the more his muscles jumped and bounced, Israel don't know how many she licked her lips or clinched her thighs together but she knew her lips were going to be raw and she would have to take a shower as soon as she got home, she didn't care though it was Worth it. She'll sit here all day and night if that meant she could watch him. She wasn't the only one enjoying this whole situation so was Erik. he knew she was watching his every move, she tried to act like she wasn't but she made it very obvious that she was checking him out, but he liked the attention. He liked how easily he can drawl women's attention without even trying. He had her eyes glued to him, not only hers but Erie's too. He caught her staring at him multiple times but instead of scaring away whenever he caught her she locked eyes with him, giving him very seductive look. Erik only chuckled at her Poor attempt and backed over to Israel to grab his ice cold water bottle. Her breath hitched as he reached over her, his hot body almost pressing against her. The scent of his sweat and actual body odor mix with his deodorant made her mouth water. She wanted so badly to reach up and touch his torso but held herself back, sparing herself the embarrassment of rejection. "Are you done?" "Yeah Come on someone wants to meet you before we leave," he said grabbing her hand to help her off the ground. The feeling in her legs started to come back finally as she made her way over to the punching bag. "Israel this my nigga RJ, we go way back." RJ smile brightly at the girl and extended his hand out to her. "Nice to meet you." She beamed at the handsome older man, holding his hand longer then she intended to. RJ didn't mind at all though. They both broke apart when Erik cleared his throat real obnoxiously eyeing the both of them like they stole something from him. "Nigga Y'all tryin' fuck later or what? The fuck." Erik hissed bluntly more so towards RJ, he was way to old to be looking at Israel any type way. He was in his early 40s and Israel was in her late teens, that shit didn't really sit right with Erik. Israel became tense and RJ just dismissed Erik's out burst rolling his eyes and punching him In the arm with the foam glove.

"Shut yo dumb ass up Erik, anyway it I was just trying to see what your name was and shit for later..." Erik's face scrunch up in discussed as he pulled Israel behind his back. "Nigga you old as dirt still trying to flirt with young girls....grow up." Erik chuckled grabbing his bag and Israel's hand pulling her behind him. "Ok and? I'm aging like fine wine, ain't that right baby girl?" He raised a eyebrow at Israel making her turn her face away to hide her smile from the both of them knowing that they'll probably just clown her. "More like milk, anyway I'll see yo old ass later." Erik dabbed him up and left making sure Israel was right behind him. He opened the door for her and she climbed in, putting her Seatbelt on without him having to tell her too this time. Erik got in next making the car bounce a little from how big he was. "Don't pay that old ass nigga no attention, he do that to all the girls that come in to the gym. He swear he's charming-"

"Welllllll......" Israel tailed off

"Woooooow....." was all Erik said before slumping down into his seat. "He fine." Israel laughed widely shrugged her shoulders. "Hell Nah He could be your dad or some shit he's like that old ass uncle at the cookout that get drunk before the party even start." Israel giggled wildly because she does really have a uncle that showed up to the family events already drunk. After their laughter died down things got quite. Like it always seemed to happen when they were by their selves. It wasn't necessarily a awkward Silent just a little uncomfortable, the type when you don't know what Else to say to keep the conversation going but Israel still enjoyed his company.

It was nice finally being around a man, it felt familiar to her. She was always only around boys and men growing up most of the time since she had no younger or older sister in the house, plus the girls that she did have In her family like her aunts and older female cousins were rude and bitchy for no reason so she stuck with just hanging around the boys. it was what she was used to and most comfortable with.

Erik's deep voice shook her out of her train of thought and now her eyes were staring into his trying to focus on what he was talking about. "Huh?" She said trying to process what he said. "I'm gonna drop you off at home."

She pouted and huffed out her breath before mumbling "I don't want to go home, why can't I just stay with you?" Erik chuckled dryly. "Because I got other shit to do Israel." The sternness in his voice jumped out and Israel was just about to let her bratty personality show but quickly caught herself.

She was really quite the rest of the ride this time, extremely quite. Erik only chuckled at her for being mad that she was going home instead of with him, but he didn't give a fuck. He had other shit to do like he said.

"So you not gon' talk?" She shrugged before turning on the radio. Erik turned it off. "Don't touch my radio, answer my question."

"What?" She asked as if she didn't hear him the first time round. "You wanna stay with me?" She nodded with puppy dog eyes. He almost melted. Almost.

"Mm." He hummed pulling up to her house. She pouted And huffed, annoyed with him playing with her. "Whatever." She snapped before grabbing her phone out of his lap and slamming his car door shut. She heard Erik's annoying laugh loud and clear as she stomped her way up the steps to her door. Erik's slowly pulled away making sure she got in safely and when she did he speed away.

Soon as he stopped at a red light he grabbed his phone and went to his new contact: Israel (with the pleading face emoji) since it described her best. His fingers work at the speed of light as he tried to send the text before the lights turn green.

Good night, princess. Imma see you soon so you don't gotta pout and shit alright? He sent and almost instantly she read it. The gray dots appeared and vanished then reappeared and then her rely popped on his screen. Ok :) it was simple but it made him smile.

He almost sent her a text back but decided to just leave it at that. She was happy and fine now so there was no need to reply back.

_________

Sorry about the weird spacing in some areas Tumblr be weird sometimes with that.

#black panther killmonger #erik killmonger #erik stevens fanfiction #erik stevens fic #erik x oc #black panther #killmonger x oc #killmonger fic #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger x reader #killmonger imagine

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insomniac-dot-ink · 4 years

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Books I’ve Read in 2020

AHello! I’m trying to read as many books as I can during the quarantine, here’s what I’ve finished so far:

On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong (literary fiction): a son writes a letter about his life to his illiterate mother. Breathtakingly beautiful with it’s way with words this book is lovely and real in the hardest and sweetest ways. The author’s combination of prose and poetry is dazzling and intricate, this book has stuck with me for days afterward. 4.5 out of 5 stars.

Spinning Silver by Naomi Novik (fantasy): a money-lender gets in trouble after bragging she can turn silver into gold and is kidnapped and ordered to do so by a fey creature. It may be that I am the perfect audience for this type of book, but it’s my favorite thing I’ve read all year. It’s a book that equally takes on the fantastical and real-world with compelling female characters at the center of the whole thing. A wonderful fantasy journey inspired by eastern-European Jewish folklore. 5 out of 5 stars.

Through the Woods by Emily Carroll (horror graphic novel): a series of short horror comics. Absolutely bone-chilling! This was a really fun type of scary story, especially the last one which made my skin absolutely crawl. Deliciously eerie, this was treat to read if not a little too short. 4 out of 5 stars.

The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake by Aimee Bender (magical realism): a young girl can taste other people’s emotions in their cooking and begins to understand her family in new ways. This was a weird book, but it has everything you’ve got to love about that combination of the surreal and mundane. It’s sense of character was electrifying and I had fun engaging with this type of off-kilter real world. I was a little frustrated in parts bc of some characters choices, but that too was true to life. 4 out of 5 stars.

Crier’s War by Nina Varela (steampunk fantasy wlw): about a Made automaton heir to a throne and her human hand-maiden that is trying to kill her. This was an easy read with a lot of tension between the two main characters that I liked, but the writing itself was very weak. There was waaay too much exposition in parts and the dialogue had some really hockey lines. I enjoyed the twists and turns in the middle of the book, but the beginning and end didn’t have much movement. 2.5 stars out of 5.

The Huntress by Kate Quinn (historical fiction): honestly, I’m a little disappointed. This book just did not hit my sweet spots, it wasn’t fast-paced enough for me to get immersed in the plot, and the characters weren’t real enough to be wholly invested in them. That said I adored Nina Markova and the Night Witches, so that did help. 3 starts out of 5.

The Dark Descent of Elizabeth Frankenstein by Kiersten White (horror sci-fi retelling): HAND IN UNLOVABLE HAND. A retelling of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein from the perspective of Victor Frankenstein’s wife and my God! The characters! The plot was well-enough, but the characters took the whole show for being complex and compelling. The main character was breathtakingly layered and I was wholly invested in Elizabeth and her story and the triumph at the end of this story was tangible. 4 out of 5 stars!

Uprooted by Naomi Novik (fantasy): A story of a young woman who lives in a valley where a girl must go live with a wizard for 10 years. She is certain she won’t be chosen, but ends up having to be “uprooted” herself. I enjoyed most of this book! However, I think I liked “Spinning Silver” a lot more just because the ending of this one somehow lost me. The characters were good and plot compelling, but (SPOILERS) the big battle at the end seemed to drag and didn’t interest me somehow. 3.8 out of 5 stars.

Gods of Jade and Shadow by Silvia Moreno-Garcia (fantasy): excellent read! A story of a young woman in Jazz Age Mexico who goes on an adventure with a Mayan death God who is trying to regain his throne. A romp across the country absolutely brimming with likable characters and fairy tale twists. My only complaint would be that most of it felt a little predictable due to the fact we knew where we were going throughout the whole story, However, it was still greatly enjoyable for the heroine herself, Casiopea. 4 out of 5 stars!

Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng (literary): a story of two families in a progressive “planned” community, how their lives intertwine, their secrets, and a central question surrounding motherhood. Deeply empathetic to its characters and introspective, this is an every-day story of people in suburbia that reads like a thriller. I could barely put it down and felt deeply for its characters and situations, 5 out of 5 stars!

Wilder Girls by Rory Power (YA sci-fi suspense): a story of a group of girls at a boarding school on an island affected by the “tox” which alters their bodies in strange ways like giving them scales or an extra spine. This was an eerie, interesting read with a wlw romance! Watch out for the body horror in this one, but it was very gripping and held my interest. Some of the pacing was off in places (like the romance), but had a very creepy atmosphere that did it for me. 3.8 out of 5 stars!

If We Were Villains by M.L. Rio (thriller-mystery): A thriller about a group of Shakespeare actors in their last year of college and one of their classmates who turns up dead. I enjoyed the murder mystery part of this novel more than I expected despite the fact I had guessed who had “done it” pretty early on. I really enjoyed the James-Oliver dynamic with its growing homoeroticism, but I didn’t like how the character of Meredith was handled at all. She felt like a one-note aside. I might have given this book four stars, but the ending was EXTREMELY frustrating for me and I did not like the “open-ended” conclusion. 3 out of 5 stars.

A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman (literary humor): a weird character-driven comedy about an old grumpy man and a new family that moves in next to him. Warning for themes of suicide. Anyway, I don’t normally indulge in cliches like “I laughed, I cried, I loved one Cat Annoyance.” However, that’s exactly what I did. I laughed out loud, I cried my eyes out (THE CAT’S HEAD WAS IN HIS PALM), I loved this book. It was sweet and compelling and thoroughly immersive. 5 out of 5 stars!

The Ten Thousand Doors of January by Alix E. Harrow (historical fantasy): set in the early 1900s comes a story of a young girl and her experience with “Doors” that lead to different worlds. This book had a lot of great character development and really interesting descriptions, however, I didn’t like it as much as I wanted to. I found it hard to get myself to sit down a read it. There was just something missing with the push to “page-turn,” but it was still a really good book. 3.7 out of 5 stars!

Gideon the 9th by Tamsyn Muir (high fantasy, kinda gay): I AM FILLED WITH EMOTIONS. This was book was definitely a page-turner. I was very confused with it at the beginning, but the characters and their interactions were, forgive the expression, the life blood of the story and kept me wholly invested. The ending has CRUSHED my heart, but damn did I have a good time reading it. 4.5 out of 5 stars!

Harrow the 9th by Tamsyn Muir (sequel to Gideon the 9th): I really enjoyed this book. It was just as strange and twisting as the first book, though I think I enjoyed the first one a bit more since I love Gideon. It was fun ride overall, though the ending was kind of really confusing. So 4 out of 5 stars.

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo (historical fiction): Overall, I really enjoyed this book! The writing style was personable and grounded in reality. I found myself really liking the main characters and the exploration of the life of a bi main character was really well done I thought. A solid book with drama and glamor to boot. 4.6 out of 5 stars!

The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah (historical fiction): A story of two sisters during WWII and their resistance to Nazi occupation. To be honest, this book wasn’t my cup of tea. It was compelling, but also wholly depressing and I felt like gloried in the pain of the two main characters too much. The history was wonderful and realistic, but it didn’t make me feel anything good afterward. It was just dark. 3 out of 5 stars.

Red, White & Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston (mlm romance): I finally finished this after the heaviness of The Nightingale. This is a story of the First Son of the USA falling for the prince of England. And it turned out to be a very fun and light hearted read! Some of it was kinda generic and too political, and it coulda been shorter, but I thought the romance itself made up for it. It just made me feel so sweet and lovely inside. 4 out of 5 stars!

Anxious People by Fredrik Backman (literary humor): I’m searching out heartfelt books and this one ticked off all the marks on my “sweet” list. A lovely book that made me cry more times than I would like to admit. Compassionate beyond belief, funny and heartfelt. I think I enjoyed A Man Called Ove slightly more, but this book was also dear to me and something I hope to reread in the future. 4.2 out of 5 stars!

Station Eleven by Emily St John Mandel (sci-fi): A post-apocalyptical story about a group of traveling Shakespeare actors and a symphony. Overall, an excellent read that somehow pictures a more realistic or even softer version of the apocalypse. At first, I wasn't happy with the jumping around of the story, but as I progressed I grew fonder and fonder of the interwoven characters and their journey. A very fascinating read about a world that hits a little too close to home. The appreciation of the arts and preserving humanity was somehow very hopeful and I was fully engaged with this story. 5 out of 5 Stars!

Up next: The Hidden Life of Trees by by Peter Wohlleben (nonfiction science), The City We Became by N. K. Jemisin (urban fantasy), The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern (fantasy)

#I'll keep this list updated!#am reading #bookblr #IA talks #I've mostly read books I've really liked this year!#then again I rarely finish books I don't like

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pentanguine · 3 years

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Favorite books of 2020

So....about five months ago now, I drafted a list of my favorite books of 2020, and then I, uh, didn’t finish it. It languished in a draft gathering dust and I forgot that it existed.

But now it’s done! It’s hideously late and also out of date, because I’d change many of the rankings now (see below), but I decided to keep them in the original order to reflect how I felt when I actually meant to post this.

Gideon the Ninth- What can I say about this book that hasn’t already been said? It’s like nothing else I’ve read before, in the most unabashed, off-the-walls, grandiose way possible. It’s incredibly complex, well-written, goth, and full of memes. There are, indeed, lesbian necromancers in space.

Harrow the Ninth- I read this 500+ page book in one day and didn’t notice an earthquake while doing so, if you consider that an endorsement. There’s so much going on here it almost feels like it shouldn’t work, and yet it does, brilliantly—it’s so intricately plotted you’ll want to reread it immediately because there’s no way to pick up on everything your first time through.

The Starless Sea- This is just a magical delight of a story, with prose that flows like honey: slow, sweet, and delicious. The story unfolds like a series of wonders nested one inside the other, with each section adding another layer of whimsy and metafiction. It’s half a dream, and half a maze.

Young Miles (The Warrior’s Apprentice/The Vor Game)- The Miles books (the early ones, especially) are wild and unrepentant romps through outer space, and reading them was one of the highlights of 2020 for me. When I finished the Young Miles omnibus, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d taken such pure delight in a book. Even the heavier, more thoughtful moments were part of a well-told, enjoyable story.

The Stone Sky- Speaking of heavy and thoughtful books…The Broken Earth Trilogy is definitely not a light undertaking, but it’s just a masterpiece of world- and character-building. The Stone Sky is the final installment, and it does not pull a single punch in delivering what the previous books have been building towards.

This Is How You Lose the Time War- I keep instinctively wanting to call this a novel in verse, although I think it’s technically an epistolary novel with prose-poem tendencies. In any case, the writing is lovely—lush, vivid, sensual, romantic. I recommend reading this one with your poetry glasses on.

Cordelia’s Honor (Shards of Honor/Barrayar)- I tried to limit myself to one book per author on this list, but I didn’t succeed here. I loved the Vorkosigan saga too much, and I had to include the omnibus about Miles’s mother, Cordelia, whose life and personality could easily be the focus of another half-dozen volumes. (And if you’re looking for a well-developed m/f romance, you’ve found it here)

An Unkindness of Ghosts- I think this is the book that kicked off my sudden interest in sci-fi last year. It’s dark and beautiful, definitely character-driven, and everyone is truly strange in ways that protagonists rarely get to be. It’s also got one of the loveliest, most satisfying endings I can imagine.

Code Name Verity- An incredibly intense YA book that delves deep into one of my favorite fictional themes, Morality. It’s a rollicking spy adventure novel that focuses on a close friendship rather than romance (although you can read it as sapphic if you want), with descriptions of flying over England at sunset that made my heart ache.

The Raven Tower- I enjoyed this story for reasons probably particular to me—I like long digressions into abstract questions like “How do we exert power over the world?” and “Where does the meaning of words exist?”, and entire sections of The Raven Tower are devoted to the inner meditations of a very contemplative rock. It’s also a retelling of Hamlet, if that’s more your speed.

Network Effect (and Murderbot novellas)- I’m going to quote my immediately-after-finishing review: “Murderbot always gives me feels. I would love to give a more literary summary, but I’m still overwhelmed by the tentative vulnerability of two bots being best friends and watching TV together after [redacted].” The first Murderbot novel definitely did not disappoint.

The Monster of Elendhaven- Decadent, blood-soaked, and morally depraved, it’s kind of like The Picture of Dorian Gray by way of Hannibal (NBC), with probable influences from a dozen other macabre works and no restraint whatsoever. Reading it felt very self-indulgently delightful.

Before Mars- A deliciously unsettling sci-fi thriller with a refreshingly blunt, unsentimental female protagonist. Also definitely an …interesting book to read at the end of March 2020, but explaining why would definitely be a spoiler. Suffice it to say that the book goes dark places not advertised on the tin, and it made me cry.

Orange World- Karen Russell is one of those writers who make you wonder “how did they come up with this?” Every one of her stories is a totally original marriage between two wildly different concepts (like a Bog Maiden and high school romance, or new motherhood and the devil), and they’re a nice blend of literary and fantasy that I love.

Something That May Shock and Discredit You- It’s so hard to rank this one, because its two primary concerns are Christianity and transness, one of which means very little to me and one of which is breathtakingly important. I couldn’t justify putting it any lower, because it made me feel an ungodly number of feelings, but I couldn’t really justify putting it higher when a solid third of the book went right over my head.

The Ten Thousand Doors of January- A truly wondrous novel, one that fully immerses you in the delight of storytelling and imagination, and the power of escaping to other worlds. It’s very much in the tradition of “books that pay tribute to the love of books,” and an homage to a hundred portal fantasies before it.

Braiding Sweetgrass- I’ve got such a fondness for nature writing that doesn’t even try to be scientifically detached, and instead leaves you with the feeling that the trees and fields around you are bustling with (nonhuman) people.* Kimmerer’s writing is steeped in indigenous ways of knowing, and emphasizes the respect and reciprocity we can hold for the natural world. It’s lovely writing, and I can’t recommend the book highly enough.

Call Down the Hawk- Full of all the ingredients you expect from a Maggie Stiefvater book: fast cars, ancient magic, questions of art and truth, and borderline overuse of the word “cunning.” Every time I read one of her books I want to start taking notes, because she’s got such a signature style that’s both poetic and readable.

The Unspoken Name- For some reason I wasn’t much into epic fantasy last year, but I’m glad I gave this one a try. I love morally grey characters, of which there are plenty, and the plot took a number of refreshing twists and turns.

A Memory Called Empire- Not a fast-moving read, but perfect if you like your sci-fi novels poetic, complex, and intellectual. The worldbuilding is incredibly immersive, in a way that reminded me a bit of Ursula K. Le Guin, and I remember this stuck with me for weeks after I finished it.

*Let me be a nerdy weirdo for a second: Most of the time Kimmerer is writing about New England, an area I’m not really familiar with, but “The Sound of Silverbells” is set on a mountain somewhere in the South, and I adored it. Suddenly she was writing about dogwoods and redbuds and poplars, and I was sitting there going “!!! Those are my friends! My friends are in a book!”

Changes I’d make now:

Bump The Starless Sea down a couple pegs, maybe to #6

Swap out Cordelia’s Honor and Young Miles

Bump The Raven Tower way down to #16 and bump A Memory Called Empire a few spots higher, maybe to #17

Braiding Sweetgrass can go up where The Raven Tower was

#an inexhaustable source of magic #personal #yes i know none of them have the author's name #sorry about that #it you're reading this it's because i noticed i forgot the authors right after i queued it and then went 'oh well' and cleaned my bathroom #and subsequently did not remember and/or find the time #if you're not reading this then i found the time

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bigskydreaming · 3 years

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This isn't a meme thing or anything but I was wondering if you had a top ten favorite characters from books? I actually end up getting a lot of good book recs from reading your blog so I was just curious lol.

LOL I wasn't going to do this ask because I was like ugh I suck at top ten lists because I can never pick just ten. But then I thought about it for like, five whole seconds and realized I DO have ten standout characters in answer to this so its like oh hey, learned something new about myself today! Lmao.

Anyway, in no particular order:

1) Anyanwu - from Wild Seed by Octavia Butler - Can not stress how like fucking...formative Anyanwu's character was for me as an abused kid who first read this when I was like 12. The book heavily deals with the back and forth across centuries between these two immortals, Anyanwu and Doro, as Doro basically tries to control her every which way he can, and Anyanwu just defies him at every turn, and it just....you love to see it. She's a bad-ass and I adore her.

2) Prince Corwin and Merle Corey/Merlin - from Chronicles of Amber by Roger Zelazny - Yes I'm cheating but its me so you should have seen that coming. Another fave series from when I was in middle school, its ten books in total, and the first five are in Corwin's POV and the second five are in the POV of his son Merle/Merlin. So I maintain it counts. And is fine. Shhh, let it go, Elsa said so. ANYWAY, I actually probably like Merle better than his dad, because I mean, lbr, Corwin is a total asshole. But he's MY asshole, y'know? Wait, that came out wrong. Don't quote me there. But you know what I mean. Merle is a lot more level-headed, and quick-witted I think, and I like his supporting cast of relatives who want to kill him and he sometimes want to kill more than his dad's supporting cast of relatives who want to kill him and he always wants to kill, but like. Both are Valid. Also shout out to Fiona and Rinaldo, with a side shout out to Flora, who are probably my next three favorites from the series. Dara would be up there too but she knows what she did.

3) Elric/Corum/Dorian/etc - from the Eternal Champion books by Michael Moorcock - Look I'm already cheating so why not continue on a theme. But basically this counts too, I'm just saying. See Michael Moorcock's big project going all the way back to the 60s was he created a fantasy multiverse of different dimensions where this one Eternal Champion, meant to balance the scales between the Lords of Law and the Lords of Chaos, like, is reborn over and over again in different incarnations but who are all essentially him. So Elric of Melnibone, Dorian Hawkmoon, Corum I can never remember his last name.....they're all essentially the same guy.....but they're all at the same time very very very different, and they have extremely different storylines. But I maintain if you're gonna read one you kinda gotta just read them all, all Pokemon like and such forth, because the real beauty of these books is seeing the familiar traces of the Eternal Champion threaded through each of these incarnations but also contrasting how different they are from each other and like, looking at what makes them so different each time and how much it stems from their environment and situations, etc.

4) Civet - from the Dragons of the Inland Sea series by Laurence Yep - This is a kids' series, like for ages 10-12 kinda, but easily my favorite from when I was a kid. I reread them so many times, and I love pretty much all the characters from Shimmer to Thorn to Monkey, but Civet was always a standout. She's essentially a tragic character and her ending is bittersweet, but like.....she fully knows who she is and what she's about and makes no apologies for that, and she ends on exactly the note she wants to. Like, her story and her characterization was pretty damn dark for such a young-aimed series, but that's part of what drew me to it, it managed to capture the tone it set out to convey but in a completely age-appropriate way, and in an era when most books aimed at kids dumbed down most of their story concepts and themes, this one was refreshing for just being....real. Despite being blatantly fantasy. Also the Boneless King is one of the best villains ever, despite being deliberately over the top a lot of the times....idk what it was about him, but he was just chilling.

5) Jack the Bodiless and Diamond Mask - from the Galactic Milieu series by Julian May - These are linked as well because they're a couple and their stories intertwine so much that there's no real point in separating them y'know? That's my story and I'm sticking to it. But anyway, they're a weird choice for me because Julian May is hit or miss for me overall....I HATE her Saga of the Pliocene Epic, which is technically in the same universe as her Galactic Milieu series, but they have totally different vibes and the latter series doesn't contain any of the elements from the Saga of the Pliocene that I loathe, so it just works. Plus it has Jack and Diamond Mask, and like.....I don't actually know why I love them so much? They're just so different from pretty much any other characters I've ever read. Like, May does a lot of really high concept stuff across the board, but Jack and Diamond Mask are like.....high concept character wise? If that makes sense? Its okay if it doesn't. I'm literally just spitting words out here. Honestly, its hard to say anything specific about them because so much of their characters conceptually just doesn't make sense without knowing the in-universe concepts that led to them even existing, but like. They're weird and off the wall but still astoundingly human for all that and I love them.

6) Naomi Nagata - from the Expanse books by James S. A. Corey - I mean, if you've seen me ramble all the Naomi love in my live-watches of The Expanse TV show, this should be no surprise, but my love for her in the books like, exists manifold. She's great in both, but the books cover so much more content-wise, that her character has so much more room to breathe and be explored in all kinds of directions the TV show never touches on. The funny thing is, I actually prefer the TV characterizations overall....I think the authors of the books are actually pretty shit at characterization a lot of the time, but the basic thread of Naomi's character is consistent and the sheer abundance of story material she has in the books like.....keeps me going back to them even just for her. Her conflict with Marco in the books in particular just has so much more depth than in the show....like, I don't hate the show's version at all, anyone who's seen my posts there knows that lol, and I'm not actually even sure which version I actually like more in terms of that particular storyline.....but I just love that both versions are so different, while still being recognizably the same, y'know? I don't even know. Nobody knows. Its a mystery. Just nod and say yes, shh, its fine.

7) Locke Lamora - from The Lies of Locke Lamora/The Gentleman Bastards series by Scott Lynch. This is an odd one for me, because in one sense Locke is a very contrived archetypal character from an author that doesn't always pull it off as successfully as I feel he thinks he does.....like, what I mean is Locke is inherently that type of character that is SUPPOSED to push buttons and straddle a line between likable and unlikable....and to be fair, that is VERY hard to pull off without at least some of the time falling on the wrong side of that line and alienating at least some readers. But there's something very genuine or sincere feeling about the character underneath all that, which is ironic for a character who is an acknowledged pathological liar and hardly ever tells the truth....like I said, its an odd one for me because I can't actually put my finger on what makes this particular character work for me when so many similar characters just bug the crap out of me.

8) Damien - from Black Sun Rising/The Coldfire trilogy by C. S. Friedman - This one is a whole fucking lie because I don't actually even like Damien that much lmao, but the thing is, I don't have a particular fondness for any of the characters in this series? But I gotta put it on the list anyway because I just love the world in this series so much, and its practically a character in and of itself. Like, so this was a science fantasy series set on a distant planet in the future but otherwise steeped in fantasy archetypes about spirit creatures that only Adepts could see, and like, Fae and life energy and sorcery that had roots in scientific principles but was otherworldly all the same. And that's like.....all literally my jam, and so I can't deny that this series was very formative for me even if its not the best example of those concepts. Its just the one I tend to go back to the most in my mind, like....the world and its characters are very standout and larger than life for me, even if they don't specifically APPEAL to me? They're impactful all the same. Its another odd one. I'm odd. You just kinda gotta roll with it. Its a thing. Its factual.

9) Yeine Darr - from The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms by N. K. Jemisin - This was a tough one because I love literally everything by Jemisin and all her characters are just so....ooof. They're very very real, even in the most fantastical of settings. I have mad characterization envy every time I read her stuff, but like. Its so good. So really the struggle was picking one character or even two, because I mean, The Fifth Season and its sequels are easily her best known works and have a ton of fantastic characters, and I think her Dreamblood duology is vastly overlooked but in the end I had to go with The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms even if just cuz of nostalgia. Its the first of her works and when I first started reading her and so its just.....anyway, if I was gonna go with that, it had to be Yeine, because she's so central to everything and also just....fantastic. Nahadoth and Sieh are also standout characters who get mentioned a lot in talk of this trilogy, and they're both such big personalities that at times they kinda overshadow Yeine, but Yeine has such a compelling.....undercurrent to her that she never actually gets lost in the shuffle even when surrounded by all these larger than life gods, and just. You love to see it. I do anyway. And its my list so nyah. But also if you're gonna read Jemisin, read everything Jemisin. It just makes sense, y'know? Good for the pores.

10) Cayal and Arkady - from The Immortal Prince/The Tide Lords by Jennifer Fallon - All the other Tide Lords can rot, but Cayal is hilarious in a depressing way. He's a ten thousand year old immortal whose greatest wish is just to die, which is how he meets Arkady who is a historian who just wants to like....know everything he knows once she realizes he actually is the figure of legend he professes to be and is so mad at him for not really giving a shit about all the weight of history he's been present for, but Cayal's just like, umm, I LIVED it so that's why I don't care, I'm allowed to not care, that shit hurt. Did you miss the part where one of the other Tide Lords threw a fucking meteor at me? And Arkady, distinctly unimpressed, is just like....I thought YOU did that, to Jasper. And Cayal's like, no that doesn't sound right. And Arkady's just like, you literally JUST told me that story. And Cayal's like, huh. I must have been lying. I do that sometimes. And Arkady's like, I thought you never lie, that's your whole thing? And Cayal's like, ahah, but what if THAT was a lie too? And Arkady's just like, bitch I hate you so goddamn much, how are you the worst of all the Immortals while still the only one who will actually talk to me and answer my questions. Cayal's like, we may never know.

Anyway, there's my list but like there's a lot more obviously because I'm me, I don't do moderation, its against my religion, but also I have to stop some time and the ask was for ten and those were the ten that popped into my head so they must be the right ones! Probably. Until I change my mind at least.

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englandsgray · 3 years

Text

Sherlolly Self-Interviews 2020

Well hi 👋

Ignoring the internal image of Gilderoy Lockheart smiling smugly while flashbulbs pop and saying ‘In my autobiography, Magical Me...’ 🙈😆 I shall take the opportunity of this lovely event to introduce myself as a writer of Sherlolly fanfiction on AO3...

I am English and somewhere over 30. I watched the show as it aired, and lost my heart as quickly to Molly Hooper as to Sherlock Holmes. The kiss is British television history. Series 4 is my favourite. Moriarty on the beach is life. The Holmes brothers break my heart every time.

I am extremely lucky to have been provided some questions to answer here by @ohaine and @mybrainrots - huge, huge love and thanks to these two lovelies, and not just for this. I admire you both so much as writers, and your support means the world to me ❤️ Thanks too, to @sherlollyappreciationweek!

Where did you begin to write, and have you written for other fandoms? I wrote my first fanfic when I was eleven years old - a 100 page ramble about The Monkees. Oh yes. Then in 2018, I fell for the characters of the Disney Pixar film Cars and began writing and publishing. So far so random! Writing in this fandom sprang from binge-watching all four series of Sherlock during lockdown. I remembered reading Louise Brealey talking about being disappointed Molly didn’t get chance to ‘roundly kick Sherlock’s arse’ and agreeing with her wholeheartedly. That, over a few weeks, turned into my first fic - Who You Really Are.

You’re a recent (and welcome!) arrival to the Sherlolly ship, and I was wondering if writing in an established, less active than it used to be fandom has been a challenge? Thank you, firstly. My experience of this fandom has been incredibly positive - the sense of welcome has been wonderful. I will admit I was terrified posting the first fic - there are hundreds of times more stories posted daily in the Sherlock fandom as in the one I had some experience of. But I needn’t have worried, it’s been a blast. I will also admit, that it’s no small thing to be surrounded by such brilliant writing and the long-standing passion which goes with it. But I find that inspiring in itself, and I’m very glad to be here - how supportive the fandom are makes me feel like I always have been!

What’s your favourite place and way to write? My aesthetic is Lin-Manuel Miranda in his in-law’s laundry room 🤣 I wrote my first ten-thousand words on the notes app on my phone before my other half told me to stop being ridiculous! I switch between the laptop, my phone and longhand (I’m a sucker for a nice notepad and a Uni-Ball Eye) and, more often than not, not sat up properly at a table.

Since you’ve (done something I’ve never managed successfully and) written a novella length fic... how did you organise/keep track of all the details and where you wanted the story to go? Did you outline/plot in advance? First of all - I would love to see a novella length fic from you @mybrainrots! The final scene of Who You Really Are came to me very early on and I knew I wanted the fic to fit within TFP - a lot of it takes place in the timeframe of the final montage. At first, it was going to be much more about Sherlock’s relationship with the ideas of sentiment and love (the phrase ‘I’m not sentimental about you, I love you,’ haunted me for a while) and I spent some time researching the psychology and playing with scenes from throughout the series - one of my favourites I didn’t go on to use was inspired by the final scene of THoB. Using scenes from the canon gave an automatic structure, and I was always aiming for the final one I wrote early on - the two of them on the beach (everything is about the beach, with me!) As I went along and started, inevitably, to slow down, I mapped out the chapters with a short note of what I wanted to be in each, then would add notes or phrases as they came to me - often emailed from my phone! I had to force myself through a tricky section set in Baker Street at one point, but it came together in the end. I did plot The Pathologist’s Skeletons on paper first, as I found with a casefic which remains a WIP, that I can get confused and lose focus when it comes to details and how to reveal them in a way which stays paced and interesting. I’ll certainly do that from now on with longer stories and cases. How did you keep up enthusiasm for the work? I want to write an original novel, so I am forcing myself to work through the knotty bits and blocks as a learning experience. Not everything is destined to be finished or finessed, of course, but I’m finding this process is building my confidence that I can overcome problems and slow periods. I also find I know when I need some external inspiration - some of my favourite scenes have come to me while out walking the dog or sitting on the beach. I’ve also been inspired by books or other series or things going on in the world, as we all are, and sometimes that’s pushed me on. Plus, of course, I’m a newbie - I’m very much in the honeymoon period of my writing, even though I’ve loved Sherlock for ten years! (Ten years! Bonkers.)

You’ve got a knack for writing Sherlock’s thoughts and capturing his voice. That said, which character do you find easiest to write? Which is the hardest? Thank you so much. I absolutely love writing Sherlock and Mycroft, and I’m sure that’s because they suit my somewhat over-the-top writing style! I find Molly and her POV really difficult. I want the scenes I write from her perspective to sound completely different to Sherlock, but that means writing in a style which doesn’t come as naturally to me. I’m a long way off happy with that at the moment, but I’m enjoying the challenge.

Is there a scene or character that specifically inspired you to start writing Sherlolly? The whole of TFP, but especially from the moment Sherlock arrives at Musgrave onwards. I am desperate to see what a Sherlock Holmes who has been reacquainted with his own heart would look like. I find his emotionality in those final scenes hugely compelling (Mycroft’s office is one of my favourite moments from across all four series) and, as I have always believed in him and Molly, I practically jumped up back in May after watching it and said ‘right, where’s my notebook?!’.

There’s a lovely peaceful, quiet feeling to your fic ‘We’re All Right At The Moment’. Can you tell us what inspired it and if you’ve thought of doing the backstory that goes with it? Thank you! Like everyone, I would go back to January of this year and start again in a heartbeat, but I am hugely fortunate to be able to say that I have a lot to be grateful to the UK lockdowns for. I might never have begun writing in this fandom otherwise, for one, and I have had a brilliant time so far and met some lovely people. Honestly, I don’t feel able to do any sort of justice in my writing to what has happened in the world in any broader sense than drawing on my own experiences of staying at home and enjoying my family. This particular super-short fic sees Molly cutting Sherlock’s hair at home in Baker Street. I wrote it in the evening after I had cut my other half’s hair and had been reminding myself that despite how horribly worried I was - and still am - about everything, we were all right in that moment, and to focus on that as much as possible. I wanted to try to capture that, if for no reason other than to look back on this entire experience and remember something lovely, so I am so pleased to hear you felt the fic did that. It was only after I finished it and reread it, that I realised it is ambiguous as to whether Molly is worried about Sherlock contracting the virus, or whether she is remembering him being treated for it... As I say, I don’t think I could write more about these extraordinary circumstances - perhaps it’s just too close at the moment - so I don’t plan on extending it. But you know how it is, the plot bunnies hop where they will...

Do you have a Sherlolly music playlist? What are your top five favs from the list? Here’s a run down of (6 🙊) songs I have been getting emotional over in the last little while, leading my brain to assign their significance to my favourite couple...

Kissing You - Des’Ree - It’s so 90′s, it’s a bit cheesy, it’s oddly disturbing. It helped me write A Request, Made Properly, and that gave me an excuse to have Sherlock kiss Molly in the snow.

How Long Will I Love You? - Ellie Goulding - part of the playlist, but also in remembrance of a friend who passed away recently. Life is very short, love is forever.

High and Dry - Jamie Cullum - It’s made me emotional for a very long time. The original is my partner’s version of choice, this is mine.

Think About You - Delta Goodrem - Okay, this one isn’t emotional, and it’s not my usual vibe! Blame the zoom exercise class I do! But oh my goodness, it’s Molly. Bless her.

Blinded By Your Grace (P.T.2. F.T. MNEK) - Stormzy - One of the best ever, I reckon. Spent an awful lot of time thinking about angels and demons, grace and what it takes to save someone, while writing my latest - The Pathologist’s Skeletons. This has been in my head most of the (blimmin’) time!

Love Me Like You Do - Ellie Goulding - I didn’t know I was a fan of Ellie until I wrote this list... I don’t subscribe to the theory that the love Molly wants or that which Sherlock has to offer is any lesser because it isn’t ‘normal’ or expected. I don’t think romantic entanglement would come easy to either of them. But it’s still love and it would be beautiful.

Thank you so much for reading. Thanks and love to @ohaine and @mybrainrots. And thank you @sherlollyappreciationweek for the event and for everything you do ❤️

Feel like I should sign off with a quote from the show...

“You’re not a puzzle-solver, you never have been. You’re a drama queen!” Dr John Watson (Moffat & Gatiss) 2014 😜

A fav fic of mine by @mybrainrots

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7563193

A fav fic of mine by @ohaine

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10562904

My stuff:

https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnglandsGray/works

#sherlolly #sherlollyselfinterview20 #sherlock #sherlockbbc #writing #fanfic #ao3 #ao3 author #read on ao3

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isthsnametakenyet · 5 years

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Favourite book?

What do I have here? An excuse to rant and rave (and fangirl a little) about books I love, for an unprecedented amount of time? Sign me up lads.

First thing’s first – I am physically incapable of choosing one favourite book. Rather, I will list several favourites, along with the pile of books on my TBR, categorising by genre (because I am a nerd). Lets do this!

Young Adult Contemporary Fiction

- Looking For Alibrandi, by Melina Marchetta: (A YA Contemporary written by the Aussie queen herself, Melina Marchetta. Following Italian-Australian Josie’s coming of age story as she grapples with family, identity, and home, this novel will forever be a favourite.)

- Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe, by Benjamin Alire Saenz: (This is Ari and Dante’s beautiful, lyrically written story of love, family and identity. It is one that I have found myself rereading time and time again.)

- I’ll Give You The Sun, by Jandy Nelson: (We follow the perspectives of twins Noah and Jude over two different timelines. It is not only about their journeys of self-discovery, but also about the family tragedy that tore them apart.)

Young Adult/New Adult/Adult Fantasy

- The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue, by Mackenzi Lee: (A YA Fantasy Historical Fiction full of romance, magic, adventure, pirates, witty banter, near death situations and 18th Century fabulousness!)

- Six of Crows and Crooked Kingdom (duology), by Leigh Bardugo: (All I can say is that in my eyes, this duology is the epitome of top-notch YA Fantasy. If I continue to write about these books I will go on for pages … So, enough said – read it!)

- The Raven Cycle series, by Maggie Stiefvater: (I devoured this four-book series in three days, and here’s why: magic, psychic powers, ancient Welsh kings, curses, ghosts, demons, nearly-dying, actually dying, Wealthy Private School Boys, Not-So-Wealthy Private School Boys, A Badass Not-Psychic Girl Who Dislikes Private School Boys But Who Ends Up Becoming Besties With Said Private School Boys.)

- The Diviners, by Libba Bray: (A ghost murder mystery following a cast of psychic characters set in 1920s New York City … it is a big yes from me.)

Adult Fiction

- Pachinko, by Min Jin Lee: (A historical family saga through four generations of a Korean family who seek a better home, watch the home they left become divided and unrecognisable, live through the struggle of war and the political turmoil of Japanese colonisation. This novel is both a fictional and true story. It was fascinating and heart wrenching and powerful – definitely one that stands out as a favourite.)

- The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, by Annie Barrows and Mary Ann Shaffer: (Exploring both the hardships of war and the power of literature, this novel follows an English author as she finds herself post WW2 on the Guernsey Channel Islands amidst the one-of-a-kind Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society – aka the coolest book club in town.)

- The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo, by Taylor Jenkins Reid: (An intricate, enthralling, eye-opening novel with constant cliff-hangers that led to me sacrificing many hours of sleep for answers.)

Children and Middle Grade Fiction

- The Magic Faraway Tree series, by Enid Blyton

- The Naughtiest Girl series, by Enid Blyton

- The Geronimo Stilton series!, by “Geronimo Stilton”

- The Spiderwick Chronicles, by Holly Black

- The Percy Jackson series, by Rick Riordan

- The Harry Potter series, by J K Rowling

+ every Judy Blume book under the sun

Non-Fiction + Classics

- Educated , by Tara Westover (Memoir)

- Dubliners, by James Joyce (Classic, collection of short stories)

- The Bloody Chamber, by Angela Carter (Classic, collection of short stories)

Books on my (ever-growing) TBR [My To Be Read list]

- Girls of Paper and Fire, by Natasha Ngan (Fantasy)

- The Ten Thousand Doors of January, by Alix E Harrow (Fantasy)

- Vicious, by V E Schwab (Fantasy)

- The Night Circus, by Erin Morgenstern (Fantasy)

- Ninth House, by Leigh Bardugo (Fantasy)

- Where the Crawdads Sing, by Delia Owens (Fiction)

- The Place on Dalhousie, by Melina Marchetta (Fiction)

- Circe, by Madeline Miller (Historical Fantasy Fiction)

- Midnight’s Children, by Salman Rushdie (Historical Magical Realism Fiction)

- Year of Wonders, by Geraldine Brooks (Historical Fiction)

- All the Light We Cannot See, by Anthony Doerr (Historical Fiction)

- The Map of Salt and Stars, by Zeyn Joukhadar (Historical Fiction)

- The Lost Girls of Paris, by Pam Jenoff (Historical Fiction)

- Low Life: Lures and Snares of Old New York, by Luc Sante (Historical Non-Fiction)

- Franklin and Eleanor, by Hazel Rowley (Historical Non-Fiction)

- Emergency S*x and Other Desperate Measures: True Stories from a War Zone, by Heidi Postlewait, Kenneth Cain, Andrew Thomson (Non-Fiction)

- Our Man: Richard Holbrooke and the End of the American Century, by George Packer (Non-Fiction)

- The Alchemist, by Paulo Coelho (Classic)

I hope some of you find this helpful or interesting! Be sure to share your own favourite reads / any book recommendations as well! If you want to keep up to date with what I’m reading, follow me here:

Insta @ isthisnametakenyet

Goodreads @ isthisnametakenyet

(Thank you for the ask and the chance to go on about my fav books @jessicarevises !)

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en-see-tee · 3 years

Text

Tag game: An update on our day to day interests!

Tagged by @d-nghy-ck !!!! bronwyn!! thank you so much for tagging me <33 :D

Last song I listened to: desert rose by lolo zouaï !!!

Last movie I watched: not really a movie per se?? it’s a short film which is part of a tamil (indian) anthology (Paava Kadhaigal) and it’s called Thangam (literally means gold, but can be translated as my precious, my beloved) and boyohboyohboy. i cried like 2 minutes into the film and it is just so. gut wrenching and beautiful and it just. it blew me away. man i could go on and on and on about this. hfdjfhjdf i highly recommend watching it. it’s centered around very heavy subjects (transphobia, honour killings, inter-religion marriage) but handles them with so much tenderness and raw emotion. it’s just impeccable. wow. if you feel like watching something meaningful and hard-hitting or are interested in indian/tamil cinema, you should definitely watch it!!!

Currently reading: rip i haven’t really found the time to read any books but i’ll uhm. list all the books i’ve been planning to read once i find the time eheh

Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk

The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath

A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess

and i also really want to reread these because it has indeed been a Fat Minute since i’ve read anything outside of fanfiction lmao:

Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami

The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini

Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov

i cannot physically stop myself from geeking out so i will now be quoting one of my favourite lines of all time courtesy of Lolita. i’m so sorry lol

Lolita, light of my life, ..... My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita.

Currently watching: my life falling apart around me (lol)

Currently craving: spicy ramen and red bull

Currently working on: ahahahahahahahahahahahaha i’ve only recently re-started writing after 3 years so i’m very rusty because i wasn’t really great to begin with. i have a few ideas but i’m not actively forcing myself to write because i want to make something that lives up to my own standard i guess lol. so you could say i’m currently under construction. so yeah, currently working on: myself. lol ew

Currently playing: FLAPPY BIRD !!!! my high score is 29 :/ and music wise it’s Digital Get Down by NSync ehehe

Tagging: all 3 of my 4 friends @hyuck-obsessed @hchan @renjn <33

gdhjfhdk i’m just kidding <333 sorry jackie ilysm

#lol #maybe i should patent ehehe and ahahah and lol and lmao as Standard Mia Noises #another world by nct127!!!#is now playing #haaa ok bye

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aboveallarescuer · 4 years

Text

What we know that Dany knows of her ancestors, dragonlore and history

As I was rereading ASOIAF, I made it my goal to compile all* the book passages demonstrating either certain key attributes of Daenerys Targaryen (e.g. that she's compassionate and empathetic) or aspects of hers that are usually overblown (e.g. that she's violent and ambitious). Doing such a task may seem exaggerated, but I'd argue it's not, for many, many misconceptions about Dany have become widespread in light of the show's final season's events (and even before).

It must be acknowledged that it can be tricky to reference, say, ADWD passages to counter-argument how she was depicted in season eight (which allegedly follows ADOS events). Dany will have had plenty of character development in the span of two books. However, whatever happens to Dany in the next two books, I would argue that there is more than enough material to conclude that her show counterpart was made to fall for flaws that she (for the most part) never had and actions that she (for the most part) would never take.

Another objection to the purpose of these lists is that Game of Thrones is different from A Song of Ice and Fire and should be analyzed on its own, which is a fair point. However, the show is also an adaptation of these books, which begs the questions: why did they change Dany's character? Why did they overfocus on negative traits of hers or depicted them as negative when they weren't supposed to be or gave her negative traits that were never hers to begin with? Another fact that undermines the show=/=books argument is that most people think that the show's ending will be the books', albeit only in broad strokes and in different circumstances. As a result, people's perception of Dany is inevitably influenced by the show, which is a shame.

I hope these lists can be useful for whoever wants to find book passages to defend Dany's character in analysis or even conversations.

*Well, at least all the passages that I could find.

Also, people may interpret certain passages differently and then come up with a different collection of passages, so I'm not arguing that this list is completely objective (nor that there could ever be one).

Also, some passages have been cut short according to whether they were, IMO, relevant to the specific topic of the list they're in, so the context surrounding them may not always be clear (always read the books!). Many of them appear in different lists, sometimes fully cited, sometimes not.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm sparing people from inaccurate (or plain wrong) opinions about Daenerys. I made this list simply because I wanted to know all that we find onpage that Daenerys knows when it comes to her ancestors, dragonlore and history.

A Dance with Dragons

ADWD Daenerys X

The dragonlords of old Valyria had controlled their mounts with binding spells and sorcerous horns.

She wondered how the ants had managed to climb over it and find her. To them these tumbledown stones must loom as huge as the Wall of Westeros. The biggest wall in all the world, her brother Viserys used to say, as proud as if he’d built it himself.

Viserys told her tales of knights so poor that they had to sleep beneath the ancient hedges that grew along the byways of the Seven Kingdoms. Dany would have given much and more for a nice thick hedge. Preferably one without an anthill.

In Westeros the dead of House Targaryen were given to the flames, but who would light her pyre here?

ADWD Daenerys VIII

“Sunspear has never been a sea power, Your Grace.”

The bones on the floor of the pit were deeper than the last time she had been down here, and the walls and floors were black and grey, more ash than brick. They would not hold much longer … but behind them was only earth and stone. Can dragons tunnel through rock, like the firewyrms of old Valyria? She hoped not.

“You ... you mean to ride them?”

“One of them. All I know of dragons is what my brother told me when I was a girl, and some I read in books, but it is said that even Aegon the Conqueror never dared mount Vhagar or Meraxes, nor did his sisters ride Balerion the Black Dread. Dragons live longer than men, some for hundreds of years, so Balerion had other riders after Aegon died ... but no rider ever flew two dragons.”

“I ... I have the blood of the dragon in me as well, Your Grace. I can trace my lineage back to the first Daenerys, the Targaryen princess who was sister to King Daeron the Good and wife to the Prince of Dorne. He built the Water Gardens for her.”

“The Water Gardens?” She knew little and less of Dorne or its history, if truth be told.

“My father’s favorite palace. It would please me to show them to you one day. They are all of pink marble, with pools and fountains, overlooking the sea.”

“They sound lovely.”

“Tell me of this other Daenerys. I know less than I should of the history of my father’s kingdom. I never had a maester growing up.” Only a brother.

“It would be my pleasure, Your Grace,” said Quentyn.

ADWD Daenerys VII

When Dany told him how Serwyn of the Mirror Shield was haunted by the ghosts of all the knights he’d killed, Daario only laughed.

“Tell me,” Dany said, as the procession turned toward the Temple of the Graces, “if my father and my mother had been free to follow their own hearts, whom would they have wed?”

“It was long ago. Your Grace would not know them.”

“You know, though. Tell me.”

The old knight inclined his head. “The queen your mother was always mindful of her duty.” He was handsome in his gold-and-silver armor, his white cloak streaming from his shoulders, but he sounded like a man in pain, as if every word were a stone he had to pass. “As a girl, though … she was once smitten with a young knight from the stormlands who wore her favor at a tourney and named her queen of love and beauty. A brief thing.”

“What happened to this knight?”

“He put away his lance the day your lady mother wed your father. Afterward he became most pious, and was heard to say that only the Maiden could replace Queen Rhaella in his heart. His passion was impossible, of course. A landed knight is no fit consort for a princess of royal blood.”

And Daario Naharis is only a sellsword, not fit to buckle on the golden spurs of even a landed knight. “And my father? Was there some woman he loved better than his queen?”

Ser Barristan shifted in the saddle. “Not … not loved. Mayhaps wanted is a better word, but … it was only kitchen gossip, the whispers of washerwomen and stableboys …”

“I want to know. I never knew my father. I want to know everything about him. The good and … the rest.”

“As you command.” The white knight chose his words with care. “Prince Aerys … as a youth, he was taken with a certain lady of Casterly Rock, a cousin of Tywin Lannister. When she and Tywin wed, your father drank too much wine at the wedding feast and was heard to say that it was a great pity that the lord’s right to the first night had been abolished. A drunken jape, no more, but Tywin Lannister was not a man to forget such words, or the … the liberties your father took during the bedding.” His face reddened. “I have said too much, Your Grace. I—”

ADWD Daenerys IV

“You saw my brother Rhaegar wed. Tell me, did he wed for love or duty?”

The old knight hesitated. “Princess Elia was a good woman, Your Grace. She was kind and clever, with a gentle heart and a sweet wit. I know the prince was very fond of her.”

Fond, thought Dany. The word spoke volumes. I could become fond of Hizdahr zo Loraq, in time. Perhaps.

Ser Barristan went on. “I saw your father and your mother wed as well. Forgive me, but there was no fondness there, and the realm paid dearly for that, my queen.”

“Why did they wed if they did not love each other?”

“Your grandsire commanded it. A woods witch had told him that the prince was promised would be born of their line.”

“A woods witch?” Dany was astonished.

“She came to court with Jenny of Oldstones. A stunted thing, grotesque to look upon. A dwarf, most people said, though dear to Lady Jenny, who always claimed that she was one of the children of the forest.”

“What became of her?”

“Summerhall.” The word was fraught with doom.

Dany sighed. “Leave me now. I am very weary.”

ADWD Daenerys III

The cedars that had once grown tall along the coast grew no more, felled by the axes of the Old Empire or consumed by dragonfire when Ghis made war against Valyria. Once the trees had gone, the soil baked beneath the hot sun and blew away in thick red clouds. “It was these calamities that transformed my people into slavers,” Galazza Galare had told her, at the Temple of the Graces. And I am the calamity that will change these slavers back into people, Dany had sworn to herself.

ADWD Daenerys II

“A true knight is worth ten guardsmen. The men at the gate were taken by surprise. I rode one down, wrenched away his spear, and drove it through the throat of my closest pursuer. The other broke off once I was through the gate, so I spurred my horse to a gallop and rode hellbent along the river until the city was lost to sight behind me. That night I traded my horse for a handful of pennies and some rags, and the next morning I joined the stream of smallfolk making their way to King’s Landing. I’d gone out the Mud Gate, so I returned through the Gate of the Gods, with dirt on my face, stubble on my cheeks, and no weapon but a wooden staff. In roughspun clothes and mud-caked boots, I was just one more old man fleeing the war. The gold cloaks took a stag from me and waved me through. King’s Landing was crowded with smallfolk who’d come seeking refuge from the fighting. I lost myself amongst them. I had a little silver, but I needed that to pay my passage across the narrow sea, so I slept in septs and alleys and took my meals in pot shops. I let my beard grow out and cloaked myself in age. The day Lord Stark lost his head, I was there, watching. Afterward I went into the Great Sept and thanked the seven gods that Joffrey had stripped me of my cloak.”

“Stark was a traitor who met a traitor’s end.”

“Your Grace,” said Selmy, “Eddard Stark played a part in your father’s fall, but he bore you no ill will. When the eunuch Varys told us that you were with child, Robert wanted you killed, but Lord Stark spoke against it. Rather than countenance the murder of children, he told Robert to find himself another Hand.”

“Have you forgotten Princess Rhaenys and Prince Aegon?”

“Never. That was Lannister work, Your Grace.”

“Lannister or Stark, what difference? Viserys used to call them the Usurper’s dogs. If a child is set upon by a pack of hounds, does it matter which one tears out his throat? All the dogs are just as guilty.

“They are larger.” Dany’s voice echoed off the scorched stone walls. A drop of sweat trickled down her brow and fell onto her breast. “Is it true that dragons never stop growing?”

“If they have food enough, and space to grow. Chained up in here, though …”

Viserys had told her all the tales when she was little. He loved to talk of dragons. She knew how Harrenhal had fallen. She knew about the Field of Fire and the Dance of the Dragons. One of her forebears, the third Aegon, had seen his own mother devoured by his uncle’s dragon. And there were songs beyond count of villages and kingdoms that lived in dread of dragons till some brave dragonslayer rescued them. At Astapor the slaver’s eyes had melted. On the road to Yunkai, when Daario tossed the heads of Sallor the Bald and Prendahl na Ghezn at her feet, her children made a feast of them. Dragons had no fear of men. And a dragon large enough to gorge on sheep could take a child just as easily.

ADWD Daenerys I

Dragons are fire made flesh. She had read that in one of the books Ser Jorah had given her as a wedding gift.

A crown should not sit easy on the head. One of her royal forebears had said that, once. Some Aegon, but which one? Five Aegons had ruled the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. There would have been a sixth, but the Usurper’s dogs had murdered her brother’s son when he was still a babe at the breast. If he had lived, I might have married him. Aegon would have been closer to my age than Viserys. Dany had only been conceived when Aegon and his sister were murdered. Their father, her brother Rhaegar, perished even earlier, slain by the Usurper on the Trident. Her brother Viserys had died screaming in Vaes Dothrak with a crown of molten gold upon his head.

A Storm of Swords

ASOS Daenerys VI

“I am no maester to quote history at you, Your Grace. Swords have been my life, not books. But every child knows that the Targaryens have always danced too close to madness. Your father was not the first. King Jaehaerys once told me that madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin. Every time a new Targaryen is born, he said, the gods toss the coin in the air and the world holds its breath to see how it will land.”

Jaehaerys. This old man knew my grandfather. The thought gave her pause. Most of what she knew of Westeros had come from her brother, and the rest from Ser Jorah. Ser Barristan would have forgotten more than the two of them had ever known. This man can tell me what I came from.

“Bring me the book I was reading last night.” She wanted to lose herself in the words, in other times and other places. The fat leather-bound volume was full of songs and stories from the Seven Kingdoms. Children’s stories, if truth be told; too simple and fanciful to be true history. All the heroes were tall and handsome, and you could tell the traitors by their shifty eyes. Yet she loved them all the same. Last night she had been reading of the three princesses in the red tower, locked away by the king for the crime of being beautiful.

ASOS Daenerys V

Her captains bowed and left her with her handmaids and her dragons. But as Brown Ben was leaving, Viserion spread his pale white wings and flapped lazily at his head. One of the wings buffeted the sellsword in his face. The white dragon landed awkwardly with one foot on the man’s head and one on his shoulder, shrieked, and flew off again. “He likes you, Ben “ said Dany.

“And well he might.” Brown Ben laughed. “I have me a drop of the dragon blood myself, you know.”

“You?” Dany was startled. Plumm was a creature of the free companies, an amiable mongrel. He had a broad brown face with a broken nose and a head of nappy grey hair, and his Dothraki mother had bequeathed him large, dark, almond-shaped eyes. He claimed to be part Braavosi, part Summer Islander, part Ibbenese, part Qohorik, part Dothraki, part Dornish, and part Westerosi, but this was the first she had heard of Targaryen blood. She gave him a searching look and said, “How could that be?”

“Well,” said Brown Ben, “there was some old Plumm in the Sunset Kingdoms who wed a dragon princess. My grandmama told me the tale. He lived in King Aegon’s day.”

“Which King Aegon?” Dany asked. “Five Aegons have ruled in Westeros.” Her brother’s son would have been the sixth, but the Usurper’s men had dashed his head against a wall.

“Five, were there? Well, that’s a confusion. I could not give you a number, my queen. This old Plumm was a lord, though, must have been a famous fellow in his day, the talk of all the land. The thing was, begging your royal pardon, he had himself a cock six foot long.”

The three bells in Dany’s braid tinkled when she laughed. “You mean inches, I think.”

“Feet,” Brown Ben said firmly. “If it was inches, who’d want to talk about it, now? Your Grace.”

Dany giggled like a little girl. “Did your grandmother claim she’d actually seen this prodigy?”

“That the old crone never did. She was half-Ibbenese and half-Qohorik, never been to Westeros, my grandfather must have told her. Some Dothraki killed him before I was born.”

“And where did your grandfather’s knowledge come from?”

“One of them tales told at the teat, I’d guess.” Brown Ben shrugged. “That’s all I know about Aegon the Unnumbered or old Lord Plumm’s mighty manhood, I fear. I best see to my Sons.”

“Go do that,” Dany told him.

She could see her ships standing out to sea. Balerion floated nearest; the great cog once known as Saduleon, her sails furled. Further out were the galleys Meraxes and Vhagar, formerly Joso’s Prank and Summer Sun. They were Magister Illyrio’s ships, in truth, not hers at all, and yet she had given them new names with hardly a thought. Dragon names, and more; in old Valyria before the Doom, Balerion, Meraxes, and Vhagar had been gods.

ASOS Daenerys IV

“You must be my children,” she told the dragons, “my three fierce children. Arstan says dragons live longer than men, so you will go on after I am dead.”

When the old man came, she was curled up inside her hrakkar pelt, whose musty smell still reminded her of Drogo. “I cannot sleep when men are dying for me, Whitebeard,” she said. “Tell me more of my brother Rhaegar, if you would. I liked the tale you told me on the ship, of how he decided that he must be a warrior.”

“Your Grace is kind to say so.” 

“Viserys said that our brother won many tourneys.”

Arstan bowed his white head respectfully. “It is not meet for me to deny His Grace’s words ...”

“But?” said Dany sharply. “Tell me. I command it.”

“Prince Rhaegar’s prowess was unquestioned, but he seldom entered the lists. He never loved the song of swords the way that Robert did, or Jaime Lannister. It was something he had to do, a task the world had set him. He did it well, for he did everything well. That was his nature. But he took no joy in it. Men said that he loved his harp much better than his lance.”

“He won some tourneys, surely,” said Dany, disappointed.

“When he was young, His Grace rode brilliantly in a tourney at Storm’s End, defeating Lord Steffon Baratheon, Lord Jason Mallister, the Red Viper of Dorne, and a mystery knight who proved to be the infamous Simon Toyne, chief of the kingswood outlaws. He broke twelve lances against Ser Arthur Dayne that day.”

“Was he the champion, then?”

“No, Your Grace. That honor went to another knight of the Kingsguard, who unhorsed Prince Rhaegar in the final tilt.”

Dany did not want to hear about Rhaegar being unhorsed. “But what tourneys did my brother win?”

“Your Grace.” The old man hesitated. “He won the greatest tourney of them all.”

“Which was that?” Dany demanded.

“The tourney Lord Whent staged at Harrenhal beside the Gods Eye, in the year of the false spring. A notable event. Besides the jousting, there was a mêlée in the old style fought between seven teams of knights, as well as archery and axe-throwing, a horse race, a tournament of singers, a mummer show, and many feasts and frolics. Lord Whent was as open handed as he was rich. The lavish purses he proclaimed drew hundreds of challengers. Even your royal father came to Harrenhal, when he had not left the Red Keep for long years. The greatest lords and mightiest champions of the Seven Kingdoms rode in that tourney, and the Prince of Dragonstone bested them all.”

“But that was the tourney when he crowned Lyanna Stark as queen of love and beauty!” said Dany. “Princess Elia was there, his wife, and yet my brother gave the crown to the Stark girl, and later stole her away from her betrothed. How could he do that? Did the Dornish woman treat him so ill?”

“It is not for such as me to say what might have been in your brother’s heart, Your Grace. The Princess Elia was a good and gracious lady, though her health was ever delicate.”

Dany pulled the lion pelt tighter about her shoulders. “Viserys said once that it was my fault, for being born too late.” She had denied it hotly, she remembered, going so far as to tell Viserys that it was his fault for not being born a girl. He beat her cruelly for that insolence. “If I had been born more timely, he said, Rhaegar would have married me instead of Elia, and it would all have come out different. If Rhaegar had been happy in his wife, he would not have needed the Stark girl.”

“Perhaps so, Your Grace.” Whitebeard paused a moment. “But I am not certain it was in Rhaegar to be happy.”

“You make him sound so sour,” Dany protested.

“Not sour, no, but ... there was a melancholy to Prince Rhaegar, a sense ...” The old man hesitated again.

“Say it,” she urged. “A sense ...?”

“... of doom. He was born in grief, my queen, and that shadow hung over him all his days.”

Viserys had spoken of Rhaegar’s birth only once. Perhaps the tale saddened him too much. “It was the shadow of Summerhall that haunted him, was it not?”

“Yes. And yet Summerhall was the place the prince loved best. He would go there from time to time, with only his harp for company. Even the knights of the Kingsguard did not attend him there. He liked to sleep in the ruined hall, beneath the moon and stars, and whenever he came back he would bring a song. When you heard him play his high harp with the silver strings and sing of twilights and tears and the death of kings, you could not but feel that he was singing of himself and those he loved.”

“What of the Usurper? Did he play sad songs as well?”

Arstan chuckled. “Robert? Robert liked songs that made him laugh, the bawdier the better. He only sang when he was drunk, and then it was like to be ‘A Cask of Ale’ or ‘Fifty-Four Tuns’ or ‘The Bear and the Maiden Fair.’ Robert was much—”

ASOS Daenerys II

The harpy of Ghis, Dany thought. Old Ghis had fallen five thousand years ago, if she remembered true; its legions shattered by the might of young Valyria, its brick walls pulled down, its streets and buildings turned to ash and cinder by dragonflame, its very fields sown with salt, sulfur, and skulls. The gods of Ghis were dead, and so too its people; these Astapori were mongrels, Ser Jorah said. Even the Ghiscari tongue was largely forgotten; the slave cities spoke the High Valyrian of their conquerors, or what they had made of it.

Yet the symbol of the Old Empire still endured here, though this bronze monster had a heavy chain dangling from her talons, an open manacle at either end. The harpy of Ghis had a thunderbolt in her claws. This is the harpy of Astapor.

“When Aegon the Dragon stepped ashore in Westeros, the kings of Vale and Rock and Reach did not rush to hand him their crowns. If you mean to sit his Iron Throne, you must win it as he did, with steel and dragonfire. And that will mean blood on your hands before the thing is done.”

ASOS Daenerys I

“How big will he grow?” Dany asked curiously. “Do you know?”

“In the Seven Kingdoms, there are tales of dragons who grew so huge that they could pluck giant krakens from the seas.”

Dany laughed. “That would be a wondrous sight to see.”

“It is only a tale, Khaleesi,” said her exile knight. “They talk of wise old dragons living a thousand years as well.”

“Well, how long does a dragon live?” She looked up as Viserion swooped low over the ship, his wings beating slowly and stirring the limp sails.

Ser Jorah shrugged. “A dragon’s natural span of days is many times as long as a man’s, or so the songs would have us believe ... but the dragons the Seven Kingdoms knew best were those of House Targaryen. They were bred for war, and in war they died. It is no easy thing to slay a dragon, but it can be done.”

The squire Whitebeard, standing by the figurehead with one lean hand curled about his tall hardwood staff, turned toward them and said, “Balerion the Black Dread was two hundred years old when he died during the reign of Jaehaerys the Conciliator. He was so large he could swallow an aurochs whole. A dragon never stops growing, Your Grace, so long as he has food and freedom.” His name was Arstan, but Strong Belwas had named him Whitebeard for his pale whiskers, and most everyone called him that now. He was taller than Ser Jorah, though not so muscular; his eyes were a pale blue, his long beard as white as snow and as fine as silk.

“Freedom?” asked Dany, curious. “What do you mean?”

“In King’s Landing, your ancestors raised an immense domed castle for their dragons. The Dragonpit, it is called. It still stands atop the Hill of Rhaenys, though all in ruins now. That was where the royal dragons dwelt in days of yore, and a cavernous dwelling it was, with iron doors so wide that thirty knights could ride through them abreast. Yet even so, it was noted that none of the pit dragons ever reached the size of their ancestors. The maesters say it was because of the walls around them, and the great dome above their heads.”

“If walls could keep us small, peasants would all be tiny and kings as large as giants,” said Ser Jorah. “I’ve seen huge men born in hovels, and dwarfs who dwelt in castles.”

“Men are men,” Whitebeard replied. “Dragons are dragons.”

Ser Jorah snorted his disdain. “How profound.” The exile knight had no love for the old man, he’d made that plain from the first. “What do you know of dragons, anyway?”

“Little enough, that’s true. Yet I served for a time in King’s Landing in the days when King Aerys sat the Iron Throne, and walked beneath the dragonskulls that looked down from the walls of his throne room.”

“Viserys talked of those skulls,” said Dany. “The Usurper took them down and hid them away. He could not bear them looking down on him upon his stolen throne.” She beckoned Whitebeard closer. “Did you ever meet my royal father?” King Aerys II had died before his daughter was born.

“I had that great honor, Your Grace.” “Did you find him good and gentle?”

Whitebeard did his best to hide his feelings, but they were there, plain on his face. “His Grace was ... often pleasant.”

“Often?” Dany smiled. “But not always?” 

“He could be very harsh to those he thought his enemies.” 

“A wise man never makes an enemy of a king,” said Dany. “Did you know my brother Rhaegar as well?” 

“It was said that no man ever knew Prince Rhaegar, truly. I had the privilege of seeing him in tourney, though, and often heard him play his harp with its silver strings.”

Ser Jorah snorted. “Along with a thousand others at some harvest feast. Next you’ll claim you squired for him.”

“I make no such claim, ser. Myles Mooton was Prince Rhaegar’s squire, and Richard Lonmouth after him. When they won their spurs, he knighted them himself, and they remained his close companions. Young Lord Connington was dear to the prince as well, but his oldest friend was Arthur Dayne.”

“The Sword of the Morning!” said Dany, delighted. “Viserys used to talk about his wondrous white blade. He said Ser Arthur was the only knight in the realm who was our brother’s peer.”

Whitebeard bowed his head. “It is not my place to question the words of Prince Viserys.”

“King,” Dany corrected. “He was a king, though he never reigned. Viserys, the Third of His Name. But what do you mean?” His answer had not been one that she’d expected. “Ser Jorah named Rhaegar the last dragon once. He had to have been a peerless warrior to be called that, surely?”

“Your Grace,” said Whitebeard, “the Prince of Dragonstone was a most puissant warrior, but ...”

“Go on,” she urged. “You may speak freely to me.”

“As you command.” The old man leaned upon his hardwood staff, his brow furrowed. “A warrior without peer ... those are fine words, Your Grace, but words win no battles.”

“Swords win battles,” Ser Jorah said bluntly. “And Prince Rhaegar knew how to use one.” 

“He did, ser, but ... I have seen a hundred tournaments and more wars than I would wish, and however strong or fast or skilled a knight may be, there are others who can match him. A man will win one tourney, and fall quickly in the next. A slick spot in the grass may mean defeat, or what you ate for supper the night before. A change in the wind may bring the gift of victory.” He glanced at Ser Jorah. “Or a lady’s favor knotted round an arm.”

Mormont’s face darkened. “Be careful what you say, old man.”

Arstan had seen Ser Jorah fight at Lannisport, Dany knew, in the tourney Mormont had won with a lady’s favor knotted round his arm. He had won the lady too; Lynesse of House Hightower, his second wife, highborn and beautiful ... but she had ruined him, and abandoned him, and the memory of her was bitter to him now. “Be gentle, my knight.” She put a hand on Jorah’s arm. “Arstan had no wish to give offense, I’m certain.”

“As you say, Khaleesi.” Ser Jorah’s voice was grudging.

Dany turned back to the squire. “I know little of Rhaegar. Only the tales Viserys told, and he was a little boy when our brother died. What was he truly like?”

The old man considered a moment. “Able. That above all. Determined, deliberate, dutiful, single-minded. There is a tale told of him ... but doubtless Ser Jorah knows it as well.”

“I would hear it from you.”

“As you wish,” said Whitebeard. “As a young boy, the Prince of Dragonstone was bookish to a fault. He was reading so early that men said Queen Rhaella must have swallowed some books and a candle whilst he was in her womb. Rhaegar took no interest in the play of other children. The maesters were awed by his wits, but his father’s knights would jest sourly that Baelor the Blessed had been born again. Until one day Prince Rhaegar found something in his scrolls that changed him. No one knows what it might have been, only that the boy suddenly appeared early one morning in the yard as the knights were donning their steel. He walked up to Ser Willem Darry, the master-at-arms, and said, ‘I will require sword and armor. It seems I must be a warrior.’”

“And he was!” said Dany, delighted.

“He was indeed.” Whitebeard bowed. “My pardons, Your Grace. We speak of warriors, and I see that Strong Belwas has arisen. I must attend him.”

In time, the dragons would be her most formidable guardians, just as they had been for Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters three hundred years ago.

“Illyrio Mopatis wants you back in Pentos, under his roof. Very well, go to him ... but in your own time, and not alone. Let us see how loyal and obedient these new subjects of yours truly are. Command Groleo to change course for Slaver’s Bay.”

Dany was not certain she liked the sound of that at all. Everything she’d ever heard of the flesh marts in the great slave cities of Yunkai, Meereen, and Astapor was dire and frightening. “What is there for me in Slaver’s Bay?”

“An army,” said Ser Jorah. “If Strong Belwas is so much to your liking you can buy hundreds more like him out of the fighting pits of Meereen ... but it is Astapor I’d set my sails for. In Astapor you can buy Unsullied.”

“The slaves in the spiked bronze hats?” Dany had seen Unsullied guards in the Free Cities, posted at the gates of magisters, archons, and dynasts. “Why should I want Unsullied? They don’t even ride horses, and most of them are fat.”

“The Unsullied you may have seen in Pentos and Myr were household guards. That’s soft service, and eunuchs tend to plumpness in any case. Food is the only vice allowed them. To judge all Unsullied by a few old household slaves is like judging all squires by Arstan Whitebeard, Your Grace. Do you know the tale of the Three Thousand of Qohor?”

“No.” The coverlet slipped off Dany’s shoulder, and she tugged it back into place.

“It was four hundred years ago or more, when the Dothraki first rode out of the east, sacking and burning every town and city in their path. The khal who led them was named Temmo. His khalasar was not so big as Drogo’s, but it was big enough. Fifty thousand, at the least. Half of them braided warriors with bells ringing in their hair.

“The Qohorik knew he was coming. They strengthened their walls, doubled the size of their own guard, and hired two free companies besides, the Bright Banners and the Second Sons. And almost as an afterthought, they sent a man to Astapor to buy three thousand Unsullied. It was a long march back to Qohor, however, and as they approached they saw the smoke and dust and heard the distant din of battle.

“By the time the Unsullied reached the city the sun had set. Crows and wolves were feasting beneath the walls on what remained of the Qohorik heavy horse. The Bright Banners and Second Sons had fled, as sellswords are wont to do in the face of hopeless odds. With dark falling, the Dothraki had retired to their own camps to drink and dance and feast, but none doubted that they would return on the morrow to smash the city gates, storm the walls, and rape, loot, and slave as they pleased.

“But when dawn broke and Temmo and his bloodriders led their khalasar out of camp, they found three thousand Unsullied drawn up before the gates with the Black Goat standard flying over their heads. So small a force could easily have been flanked, but you know Dothraki. These were men on foot, and men on foot are fit only to be ridden down.

“The Dothraki charged. The Unsullied locked their shields, lowered their spears, and stood firm. Against twenty thousand screamers with bells in their hair, they stood firm.

“Eighteen times the Dothraki charged, and broke themselves on those shields and spears like waves on a rocky shore. Thrice Temmo sent his archers wheeling past and arrows fell like rain upon the Three Thousand, but the Unsullied merely lifted their shields above their heads until the squall had passed. In the end only six hundred of them remained ... but more than twelve thousand Dothraki lay dead upon that field, including Khal Temmo, his bloodriders, his kos, and all his sons. On the morning of the fourth day, the new khal led the survivors past the city gates in a stately procession. One by one, each man cut off his braid and threw it down before the feet of the Three Thousand.

“Since that day, the city guard of Qohor has been made up solely of Unsullied, every one of whom carries a tall spear from which hangs a braid of human hair.

“That is what you will find in Astapor, Your Grace. Put ashore there, and continue on to Pentos overland. It will take longer, yes ... but when you break bread with Magister Illyrio, you will have a thousand swords behind you, not just four.”

A Clash of Kings

ACOK Daenerys V

“The dragon has three heads,” she sighed. “Do you know what that means, Jorah?”

“Your Grace? The sigil of House Targaryen is a three-headed dragon, red on black.”

“I know that. But there are no three-headed dragons.”

“The three heads were Aegon and his sisters.”

“Visenya and Rhaenys,” she recalled. “I am descended from Aegon and Rhaenys through their son Aenys and their grandson Jaehaerys.”

“His is the song of ice and fire, my brother said. I’m certain it was my brother. Not Viserys, Rhaegar. He had a harp with silver strings.”

Ser Jorah’s frown deepened until his eyebrows came together. “Prince Rhaegar played such a harp,” he conceded. “You saw him?”

She nodded. “There was a woman in a bed with a babe at her breast. My brother said the babe was the prince that was promised and told her to name him Aegon.”

“Prince Aegon was Rhaegar’s heir by Elia of Dorne,” Ser Jorah said. “But if he was this prince that was promised, the promise was broken along with his skull when the Lannisters dashed his head against a wall.”

“I remember,” Dany said sadly. “They murdered Rhaegar’s daughter as well, the little princess. Rhaenys, she was named, like Aegon’s sister. There was no Visenya, but he said the dragon has three heads. What is the song of ice and fire?”

“It’s no song I’ve ever heard.”

ACOK Daenerys I

Such little things, she thought as she fed them by hand, or rather, tried to feed them, for the dragons would not eat. They would hiss and spit at each bloody morsel of horsemeat, steam rising from their nostrils, yet they would not take the food ... until Dany recalled something Viserys had told her when they were children.

Only dragons and men eat cooked meat, he had said.

“Aegon’s dragons were named for the gods of Old Valyria,” she told her bloodriders one morning after a long night’s journey. “Visenya’s dragon was Vhagar, Rhaenys had Meraxes, and Aegon rode Balerion, the Black Dread. It was said that Vhagar’s breath was so hot that it could melt a knight’s armor and cook the man inside, that Meraxes swallowed horses whole, and Balerion ... his fire was as black as his scales, his wings so vast that whole towns were swallowed up in their shadow when he passed overhead.”

The Dothraki looked at her hatchlings uneasily. The largest of her three was shiny black, his scales slashed with streaks of vivid scarlet to match his wings and horns. “Khaleesi,” Aggo murmured, “there sits Balerion, come again.”

If I had wings, I would want to fly too, Dany thought. The Targaryens of old had ridden upon dragonback when they went to war. She tried to imagine what it would feel like, to straddle a dragon’s neck and soar high into the air. It would be like standing on a mountaintop, only better. The whole world would be spread out below. If I flew high enough, I could even see the Seven Kingdoms, and reach up and touch the comet.

“Tell me the name of your ghost, Jorah. You know all of mine.”

His face grew very still. “Her name was Lynesse.” “Your wife?” “My second wife.”

It pains him to speak of her, Dany saw, but she wanted to know the truth. “Is that all you would say of her?” The lion pelt slid off one shoulder and she tugged it back into place. “Was she beautiful?”

“Very beautiful.” Ser Jorah lifted his eyes from her shoulder to her face. “The first time I beheld her, I thought she was a goddess come to earth, the Maid herself made flesh. Her birth was far above my own. She was the youngest daughter of Lord Leyton Hightower of Oldtown. The White Bull who commanded your father’s Kingsguard was her great-uncle. The Hightowers are an ancient family, very rich and very proud.”

“And loyal,” Dany said. “I remember, Viserys said the Hightowers were among those who stayed true to my father.”

“That’s so,” he admitted.

“Did your fathers make the match?”

“No,” he said. “Our marriage ... that makes a long tale and a dull one, Your Grace. I would not trouble you with it.”

“I have nowhere to go,” she said. “Please.”

“As my queen commands.” Ser Jorah frowned. “My home ... you must understand that to understand the rest. Bear Island is beautiful, but remote. Imagine old gnarled oaks and tall pines, flowering thornbushes, grey stones bearded with moss, little creeks running icy down steep hillsides. The hall of the Mormonts is built of huge logs and surrounded by an earthen palisade. Aside from a few crofters, my people live along the coasts and fish the seas. The island lies far to the north, and our winters are more terrible than you can imagine, Khaleesi.”

“Still, the island suited me well enough, and I never lacked for women. I had my share of fishwives and crofter’s daughters, before and after I was wed. I married young, to a bride of my father’s choosing, a Glover of Deepwood Motte. Ten years we were wed, or near enough as makes no matter. She was a plain-faced woman, but not unkind. I suppose I came to love her after a fashion, though our relations were dutiful rather than passionate. Three times she miscarried while trying to give me an heir. The last time she never recovered. She died not long after.”

Dany put her hand on his and gave his fingers a squeeze. “I am sorry for you, truly.”

Ser Jorah nodded. “By then my father had taken the black, so I was Lord of Bear Island in my own right. I had no lack of marriage offers, but before I could reach a decision Lord Balon Greyjoy rose in rebellion against the Usurper, and Ned Stark called his banners to help his friend Robert. The final battle was on Pyke. When Robert’s stonethrowers opened a breach in King Balon’s wall, a priest from Myr was the first man through, but I was not far behind. For that I won my knighthood.”

“To celebrate his victory, Robert ordained that a tourney should be held outside Lannisport. It was there I saw Lynesse, a maid half my age. She had come up from Oldtown with her father to see her brothers joust. I could not take my eyes off her. In a fit of madness, I begged her favor to wear in the tourney, never dreaming she would grant my request, yet she did.”

“I fight as well as any man, Khaleesi, but I have never been a tourney knight. Yet with Lynesse’s favor knotted round my arm, I was a different man. I won joust after joust. Lord Jason Mallister fell before me, and Bronze Yohn Royce. Ser Ryman Frey, his brother Ser Hosteen, Lord Whent, Strongboar, even Ser Boros Blount of the Kingsguard, I unhorsed them all. In the last match, I broke nine lances against Jaime Lannister to no result, and King Robert gave me the champion’s laurel. I crowned Lynesse queen of love and beauty, and that very night went to her father and asked for her hand. I was drunk, as much on glory as on wine. By rights I should have gotten a contemptuous refusal, but Lord Leyton accepted my offer. We were married there in Lannisport, and for a fortnight I was the happiest man in the wide world.”

“Only a fortnight?” asked Dany. Even I was given more happiness than that, with Drogo who was my sun-and-stars.

“A fortnight was how long it took us to sail from Lannisport back to Bear Island. My home was a great disappointment to Lynesse. It was too cold, too damp, too far away, my castle no more than a wooden longhall. We had no masques, no mummer shows, no balls or fairs. Seasons might pass without a singer ever coming to play for us, and there’s not a goldsmith on the island. Even meals became a trial. My cook knew little beyond his roasts and stews, and Lynesse soon lost her taste for fish and venison.”

“I lived for her smiles, so I sent all the way to Oldtown for a new cook, and brought a harper from Lannisport. Goldsmiths, jewelers, dressmakers, whatever she wanted I found for her, but it was never enough. Bear Island is rich in bears and trees, and poor in aught else. I built a fine ship for her and we sailed to Lannisport and Oldtown for festivals and fairs, and once even to Braavos, where I borrowed heavily from the moneylenders. It was as a tourney champion that I had won her hand and heart, so I entered other tourneys for her sake, but the magic was gone. I never distinguished myself again, and each defeat meant the loss of another charger and another suit of jousting armor, which must needs be ransomed or replaced. The cost could not be borne. Finally I insisted we return home, but there matters soon grew even worse than before. I could no longer pay the cook and the harper, and Lynesse grew wild when I spoke of pawning her jewels.”

“The rest ... I did things it shames me to speak of. For gold. So Lynesse might keep her jewels, her harper, and her cook. In the end it cost me all. When I heard that Eddard Stark was coming to Bear Island, I was so lost to honor that rather than stay and face his judgment, I took her with me into exile. Nothing mattered but our love, I told myself. We fled to Lys, where I sold my ship for gold to keep us.”

His voice was thick with grief, and Dany was reluctant to press him any further, yet she had to know how it ended. “Did she die there?” she asked him gently.

“Only to me,” he said. “In half a year my gold was gone, and I was obliged to take service as a sellsword. While I was fighting Braavosi on the Rhoyne, Lynesse moved into the manse of a merchant prince named Tregar Ormollen. They say she is his chief concubine now, and even his wife goes in fear of her.”

A Game of Thrones

AGOT Daenerys VIII

The child kicked inside her, as if he had heard. Dany remembered the story Viserys had told her, of what the Usurper’s dogs had done to Rhaegar’s children. His son had been a babe as well, yet they had ripped him from his mother’s breast and dashed his head against a wall. That was the way of men. “They must not hurt my son!” she cried.

She told herself she would die for him, if she must. She was the blood of the dragon, she would not be afraid. Her brother Rhaegar had died for the woman he loved.

AGOT Daenerys III

“Have you ever seen a dragon?” she asked as Irri scrubbed her back and Jhiqui sluiced sand from her hair. She had heard that the first dragons had come from the east, from the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai and the islands of the Jade Sea. Perhaps some were still living there, in realms strange and wild.

“Dragons are gone, Khaleesi,” Irri said.

“Dead,” agreed Jhiqui. “Long and long ago.”

Viserys had told her that the last Targaryen dragons had died no more than a century and a half ago, during the reign of Aegon III, who was called the Dragonbane. That did not seem so long ago to Dany. “Everywhere?” she said, disappointed. “Even in the east?” Magic had died in the west when the Doom fell on Valyria and the Lands of the Long Summer, and neither spell-forged steel nor stormsingers nor dragons could hold it back, but Dany had always heard that the east was different. It was said that manticores prowled the islands of the Jade Sea, that basilisks infested the jungles of Yi Ti, that spellsingers, warlocks, and aeromancers practiced their arts openly in Asshai, while shadowbinders and bloodmages worked terrible sorceries in the black of night. Why shouldn’t there be dragons too?

“No dragon,” Irri said. “Brave men kill them, for dragon terrible evil beasts. It is known.” “It is known,” agreed Jhiqui.

“A trader from Qarth once told me that dragons came from the moon,” blond Doreah said as she warmed a towel over the fire. Jhiqui and Irri were of an age with Dany, Dothraki girls taken as slaves when Drogo destroyed their father’s khalasar. Doreah was older, almost twenty. Magister Illyrio had found her in a pleasure house in Lys.

Silvery-wet hair tumbled across her eyes as Dany turned her head, curious. “The moon?”

“He told me the moon was an egg, Khaleesi,” the Lysene girl said. “Once there were two moons in the sky, but one wandered too close to the sun and cracked from the heat. A thousand thousand dragons poured forth, and drank the fire of the sun. That is why dragons breathe flame. One day the other moon will kiss the sun too, and then it will crack and the dragons will return.”

The two Dothraki girls giggled and laughed. “You are foolish strawhead slave,” Irri said. “Moon is no egg. Moon is god, woman wife of sun. It is known.”

“It is known,” Jhiqui agreed.

AGOT Daenerys I

Somewhere beyond the sunset, across the narrow sea, lay a land of green hills and flowered plains and great rushing rivers, where towers of dark stone rose amidst magnificent blue-grey mountains, and armored knights rode to battle beneath the banners of their lords. The Dothraki called that land Rhaesh Andahli, the land of the Andals. In the Free Cities, they talked of Westeros and the Sunset Kingdoms. Her brother had a simpler name. “Our land,” he called it. The words were like a prayer with him. If he said them enough, the gods were sure to hear. “Ours by blood right, taken from us by treachery, but ours still, ours forever. You do not steal from the dragon, oh, no. The dragon remembers.”

And perhaps the dragon did remember, but Dany could not. She had never seen this land her brother said was theirs, this realm beyond the narrow sea. These places he talked of, Casterly Rock and the Eyrie, Highgarden and the Vale of Arryn, Dorne and the Isle of Faces, they were just words to her. Viserys had been a boy of eight when they fled King’s Landing to escape the advancing armies of the Usurper, but Daenerys had been only a quickening in their mother’s womb.

Yet sometimes Dany would picture the way it had been, so often had her brother told her the stories. The midnight flight to Dragonstone, moonlight shimmering on the ship’s black sails. Her brother Rhaegar battling the Usurper in the bloody waters of the Trident and dying for the woman he loved. The sack of King’s Landing by the ones Viserys called the Usurper’s dogs, the lords Lannister and Stark. Princess Elia of Dorne pleading for mercy as Rhaegar’s heir was ripped from her breast and murdered before her eyes. The polished skulls of the last dragons staring down sightlessly from the walls of the throne room while the Kingslayer opened Father’s throat with a golden sword.

She had been born on Dragonstone nine moons after their flight, while a raging summer storm threatened to rip the island fastness apart. They said that storm was terrible. The Targaryen fleet was smashed while it lay at anchor, and huge stone blocks were ripped from the parapets and sent hurtling into the wild waters of the narrow sea. Her mother had died birthing her, and for that her brother Viserys had never forgiven her.

She did not remember Dragonstone either. They had run again, just before the Usurper’s brother set sail with his new-built fleet. By then only Dragonstone itself, the ancient seat of their House, had remained of the Seven Kingdoms that had once been theirs. It would not remain for long. The garrison had been prepared to sell them to the Usurper, but one night Ser Willem Darry and four loyal men had broken into the nursery and stolen them both, along with her wet nurse, and set sail under cover of darkness for the safety of the Braavosian coast.

She remembered Ser Willem dimly, a great grey bear of a man, half-blind, roaring and bellowing orders from his sickbed. The servants had lived in terror of him, but he had always been kind to Dany. He called her “Little Princess” and sometimes “My Lady,” and his hands were soft as old leather. He never left his bed, though, and the smell of sickness clung to him day and night, a hot, moist, sickly sweet odor. That was when they lived in Braavos, in the big house with the red door. Dany had her own room there, with a lemon tree outside her window. After Ser Willem had died, the servants had stolen what little money they had left, and soon after they had been put out of the big house. Dany had cried when the red door closed behind them forever.

They had wandered since then, from Braavos to Myr, from Myr to Tyrosh, and on to Qohor and Volantis and Lys, never staying long in any one place. Her brother would not allow it. The Usurper’s hired knives were close behind them, he insisted, though Dany had never seen one.

At first the magisters and archons and merchant princes were pleased to welcome the last Targaryens to their homes and tables, but as the years passed and the Usurper continued to sit upon the Iron Throne, doors closed and their lives grew meaner. Years past they had been forced to sell their last few treasures, and now even the coin they had gotten from Mother’s crown had gone. In the alleys and wine sinks of Pentos, they called her brother “the beggar king.” Dany did not want to know what they called her.

“We will have it all back someday, sweet sister,” he would promise her. Sometimes his hands shook when he talked about it. “The jewels and the silks, Dragonstone and King’s Landing, the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms, all they have taken from us, we will have it back.” Viserys lived for that day. All that Daenerys wanted back was the big house with the red door, the lemon tree outside her window, the childhood she had never known.

“Drogo is so rich that even his slaves wear golden collars. A hundred thousand men ride in his khalasar, and his palace in Vaes Dothrak has two hundred rooms and doors of solid silver.” There was more like that, so much more, what a handsome man the khal was, so tall and fierce, fearless in battle, the best rider ever to mount a horse, a demon archer. Daenerys said nothing. She had always assumed that she would wed Viserys when she came of age. For centuries the Targaryens had married brother to sister, since Aegon the Conqueror had taken his sisters to bride. The line must be kept pure, Viserys had told her a thousand times; theirs was the kingsblood, the golden blood of old Valyria, the blood of the dragon. Dragons did not mate with the beasts of the field, and Targaryens did not mingle their blood with that of lesser men. Yet now Viserys schemed to sell her to a stranger, a barbarian.

#daenerys targaryen #dany passages #a dance with dragons #a clash of kings #a storm of swords #a game of thrones

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daenerys-targaryen-moved · 4 years

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I reread Dany's early AGOT recently, and this passage stood out to me: "For half a moon, they rode through the Forest of Qohor [...] there were great elk in that wood, and spotted tigers, and LEMURS WITH SILVER FUR AND HUGE PURPLE EYES, but all fled before the approach of the khalasar and Dany got no glimpse of them." TARG LEMURS??? What's your thoughts on this? I'm guessing it symbolizes the Westerosi Houses (Baratheons and Lannisters) and is foreshadowing her return? (1/2)

(2/2) My guesses as far as possible symbolism goes are this: the tigers and elk (Baratheons and Lannisters) ran from Dany's forces (the Dothraki) so that could foreshadow her return to the West/her battling them? But she barely got to look at the animals before they ran off, so could that foreshadow her not being in Westeros long (like, returning to Essos), or dying in Westeros? ;__;

Srry to keep spamming you lol, but I wanted your opinions. My fave ending 4 Dany is 4 her 2 realize that her heart is in Essos, not the West. So while she goes West for a while & helps with the LN/rules, she has the epiphany that she was trying to reclaim the IT for her family, not for her OWN happiness, and that her true home is Essos. I think of that line abt her wanting to be a sailor as a child; she craves domesticity, but has become more than that for the sake of others, to help them. (1/2)

(2/2) So I think a good ending for her is to get what she truly wants, after sacrificing her happiness for so long; a house with a red door, literally or metaphorical, that simple life she's always wanted: a home. Basically the reward of being able to rest after she has labored and did her duty as queen: freeing slaves, giving so much, etc, etc. I can just see her in this quiet, beautiful Essosi meadow where she's settled down with her closest friends and it just makes me so emotional. Thoughts?

Don’t ever apoligize for spamming me, lol! I love it when I get asks like this!

As for the Lemurs, Elk and Spotted Tigers being foreshadow for Daenerys choosing to leave Westeros and go back to Essos, I don’t know if I can say that I agree or disagree. I think it’s an interesting portion that grrm put into her story, but I don’t know if it means anything in terms of her endgame.

I’m on the same page with you where I want nothing more than for Daenerys to just be happy and free and surrounded by loved ones.

But Daenerys has an obligation.

Daenerys isn’t throne crazy and she isn’t power hungry like a lot like to paint her as. In fact, she wants nothing more than to go find the house with the red door, be simple common folk and be man and wife with Daario. Daenerys believed in Viserys once, her brother, her King, the true heir to the iron throne, but he died, and that responsibility fell to her.

“I was alone for a long time, Jorah. All alone but for my brother. I was such a small scared thing. Viserysshould have protected me, but instead he hurt me and scared me worse. He shouldn’t have done that. Hewasn’t just my brother, he was myking . Why do the gods make kings and queens, if not to protect theones who can’t protect themselves?” - Daenerys, ASOS

She doesn’t want the throne simply to have the throne, she wants the throne because she wants to help people. That’s who Daenerys is at her core, someone who just wants to help and protect people. She would abandon this quest for the throne if she could, but since it fell into her lap as the last Targaryen, and she has the willpower and the means to attain it, she knows that she must fulfill this quest or else all these people would continue to be murdered, enslaved, raped and harmed by those who are in power.

What’s so funny about 8.05 is that Daenerys said, “I have no love here, I only have fear.” which is such bullshit, considering they killed off those who did love her, because book!daenerys is used to be mocked, scorned and unloved. She is constantly surrounded by enemies because she’s the single thing standing in between a predator (slavers) and their prey (freed slaves). We see this when she is Khaleesi and stops the Khalassar men from raping the goat girls and women, when she brings them under her protection she’s cursed at and spat at. We see this when she frees the cities, because the slavers then form the Harpy to reclaim their slaves. Daenerys Targaryen isn’t unaccustomed to these things. She’s used to this kind of behavior, she’s used to this kind of treatment, it doesn’t deter her at all, because she knows that no one else will do what she is willing to do.

Dany agrees to marry a man she hates and sacrifices her happiness for the sake of her people:

… but Daenerys Targaryen had other children, tens of thousands who had hailed her as their mother when she broke their chains. She thought of Stalwart Shield, of Missandei’s brother, of the woman Rylona Rhee, who had played the harp so beautifully. No marriage would ever bring them back to life, but if a husband could help end the slaughter, then she owed it to her dead to marry. - Daenerys IV ADWD

“It is not,” she agreed, “but it is important to me that you should understand. My people are bleeding. Dying. A queen belongs not to herself, but to the realm. Marriage or carnage, those are my choices. A wedding or a war.” - Daenerys IV ADWD

When Dany is offered yet another choice to go to Westeros, and this time with a powerful alliance with Dorne, Dany sacrifices this for her people and still decides to marry Hizdahr:

“It would please me if he had turned up with these fifty thousand swords he speaks of. Instead he brings two knights and a parchment. Will a parchment shield my people from the Yunkai'i? If he had come with a fleet …”

“Sunspear has never been a sea power, Your Grace.”

“No.” Dany knew enough of Westerosi history to know that. Nymeria had landed ten thousand ships upon Dorne’s sandy shores, but when she wed her Dornish prince she had burned them all and turned her back upon the sea forever. “Dorne is too far away. To please this prince, I would need to abandon all my people. You should send him home.” - Daenerys VIII ADWD

Her desires and her wishes aren’t matched to her desire and need to protect people. Even in the most recent book, we see that Daenerys wants to simply be a young carefree girl who’s in love, but she can’t, because she has a duty.

She would rather have drifted in the fragrant pool all day, eating iced fruit off silver trays and dreaming of a house with a red door, but a queen belongs to her people, not to herself. - Daenerys IX ADWD

It was time, though. A girl might spend her life at play, but she was a woman grown, a queen, a wife, a mother to thousands. Her children had need of her. Drogon had bent before the whip, and so must she. She had to don her crown again and return to her ebon bench and the arms of her noble husband. - Daenerys X ADWD

A quote from Emilia Clarke,

“It’s not a kind of surfacey ‘I’m gonna take the throne cause I want it.’ This is her destiny and she can’t fight it. The only person that she can trust is herself. It’s a pretty lonely path that she’s going down.”

Daenerys finding unwelcoming arms in Westeros isn’t something that she’ll be shocked and upset and go mad over, as I explained above she’s used to that kind of treatment. Daenerys duty is to her people above all else. If the people don’t want her help, she won’t leave them still. Regardless of her own desires, her own needs, her own dreams, her duty is to the people who need her.

I agree with you, I want nothing more than for her to say ‘fuck this shit I’m out,’ but she won't, because she's not the kind of person to abandon those in need, as Tyrion said, she is an all above rescuer.

#asoiaf meta #daenerys targaryen #wickedjaime

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pjstafford · 3 years

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A Look at my 2020

The end of the year is upon us. It’s been a tough one for all of us. It is a year we will all remember forever. I want to do a positive reflection of this year. I will probably write a blog about what I hope our country’s New Years Resolutions should be. The thoughts on that have been rolling around my head for a few days. But today, December 16, at 4:30 a.m. and unable to sleep, that 2020 familiar dread of what will happen today waking me early, I want to look at some positives. I want to unwrap the positives of 2020 like a Christmas gift before Christmas so that I can wrap myself in them as a blanket of warmth. One thing that I have been truly impressed with is the resilience of the human spirit. Let’s call this a resilience exercise.

Counting my blessings one by one...

1. I am alive. Surviving is a cause for celebration. As far as I know I have been COVID free...although there were a few days in April or early May when I was sick with something and in Feb I had the strangest cold in my life and this time last year weeks of fatigue ended in frozen shoulder syndrome on Christmas Eve. See, I want to be thankful, but I don’t want to be naive in my retrospection. Best to be honest. I’m not sure if I had COVID or not, but if I did I survived with relatively minor symptoms. Every cough or sniffle I feared in a completely irrational way was COVID. There was the week I walked around sniffing everything to make sure I could still smell. It dawns on me it is going to be difficult to write a honest and, yet, positive, retrospective of 2020. I am alive, but I have never been less healthy. I’ve gained weight. I haven’t had the physical exercise to which I am accustomed and now when I try to take a long walk I realize my stamina is gone. It will take years of concentrated effort once things are “back to normal” for me to become normal again. It wasn’t that I didn’t try. I did yoga daily in the Spring and switched to an online Tai chi class in the summer, but I don’t live near beauty or anything interesting so wasn’t motivated to walk and just my everyday life of lockdown in a studio apartment meant less movement. All of which sounds even to me like not very good justification. Did I mention though that I survived. I am alive. I will take that as blessing number one.

2. No one I care about very deeply has died or even been seriously ill from COVID. Doesn’t March 2020 seem far away? I don’t want to be dismissive of 300;000 dead especially with more to come. I or someone I love could still be gone by New Years Day. But in March and April we held our breaths for an apocalypse and at some point most of us decided to take a breath. I don’t know really if it’s good or bad that we have simply adjusted our normal and the number deaths we are willing to accept. It’s bad, what am I saying? It’s bad. But how long can we wait in fear? So I don’t know, but I want to count as a blessing that those I love have all survived to date. I cannot vanquish the fear, but I can be grateful for survival.

3. I have maintained employment in a bad economy and have mostly been able to work from home. There have been some struggles. Sometimes the work I do is depressing. Sometimes I feel I don’t make a difference. There has never been a worse time to be an advocate...or a person with disability, or a caregiver, or a provider agency, or a health care professional. I have maintained employment.

4. I count among my blessings the fact that I had a wonderful 2020 before....remember there was a 2020 before. I love when my work takes me to Santa Fe for a prolonged time. A friend came out in Feb for a wonderful weekend. Another friend came to Albuquerque to see me for my birthday in early March. I remember thinking how social I was in those first ten weeks in 2020. It’s as if I somehow knew....it sustained me.

5. I count among my blessings that when I felt my mental health despair getting at its worse...the strain of living alone in a studio apartment, working from that same apartment and following the Governor orders not to go or do anything. ..that I had friends and two weekends of “risky” behavior; a friend who came for the Fourth of July holiday and an out of state trip to Durango in late September. I’m fortunate that when I had to have human contact my closest friends were there for me

6. I count as my blessings that Biden won the election. It’s not simply a matter of politics. I’m not sure if the last eight months of the Trump Presidency wasn’t worse for my morale than the pandemic because Trump kind of lost whatever semblance of sanity he had. Part of the trepeditation over what each new day will bring is what Trump will say, do, tweet, exacerbate. I still fear revolution in the street before Jan 20. The pandemic is not the worse of what America has gone through. That’s the oddest thing about this year.

7. Here is the blessing which probably will be unpopular. The lockdown and stress of all we have experienced is tough, but the slowdown is a blessing for me. My life had gotten pretty busy. While I miss travel, it’s ok for a year not to have had the time suck that travel for work entails. I will be so happy the first work trip I get to go on, but I feel like 2020 has given me the gift of time. It’s odd because, like many, my creative sense has suffered. I have written almost nothing. Still, I often think of a Dylan lyric, maybe in the next life I will be able to hear myself think. I could hear myself think this year. Unfortunately I thought about the existentialist angst of the meaning of life and my failures as a human being and I don’t think there is enough time still to process the effects of the pandemic and I’m sick to death of the sound of my thoughts, but....I have been given this unique gift of time. Even on December 16th I am not rushed to shop, to cook, to decorate, to go to a zillion parties. It’s a different year. The Holiday will still come. It is pleasant not to feel urgency over, let’s face it, non-urgent things. I am mentally and emotionally fatigued, but not nearly as physically exhausted as I was this time last year

8. The next one is a big one. The gift of living in the moment. I have spent my entire life since 7th grade when Miss O’Neil gave me a copy of The Rubyait of Omar Khayyam trying to live with the philosophy of living for the now. Clear the cups of past regrets...tomorrow, why I may be myself with yesterday’s seven thousand years. The only time I have ever truly experience this is in a handful of concert experience. Even now, I fear for my future and I blame myself for my mistakes. Still, my relationship with time has changed. There is the sun rising and setting and that is a day. Seasons will change. But the gift of time means I can approach my day differently. When five o clock comes on a workday, a needed nap is a step away. No where to go on a Friday night... no where I can go...means the weekend rhythm exists only as I define it. The simple pleasures we always take for granted mean something more now. There is a coffee truck that stops near me on Fridays and Saturdays. When it first started stopping I was over the moon that I could walk and get a latte with fairly little risk. If I go to the grocery store and have a conversation with a stranger, it is different than it was before. Mindfulness exercise and meditation is one thing, but nothing can compare with this year to further my lessons in this pursuit. May I take the lesson with me into years to come.

9. Zoom...yes, of course I have zoom fatigue. But five friends in five different states having a monthly drink together on zoom is a benefit of the pandemic. I watched a movie this year with someone who lives in Brazil. I celebrated a friend’s sixtieth person even though I couldn’t be with her. I’ve attended book discussions and readings in New York and I already have tickets to an event in March. Kind of love New York. I’ve never been there in person. Just a lot happens there. Educationally and socially the world is now open to me. I am not limited to what is going on in my community. I hope this doesn’t completely go away.

10. Finally, storytelling and music. I found it hard to read new things in the lockdown for a while, but in March friends asked me to a virtual book club of three books I already read and we reread them together which took us into the summer. I rediscovered the Foundation series of Asimov and suddenly I could read again! My favorite book I’ve read published in 2020 is Jess Walter’s The Cold Million. I did read a digital advance copy of David Duchovny’snew book due out in 2021 and it is, in fact, the breakout novel I knew this hot young writer would eventually write. Looking forward to 2021 book club! I finally binged Breaking Bad and The Travelers as well as The Queens gambit and watched Peanut Butter Falcon. I am doing a disability focused watch on the X Files and I better kick it it the rear because I’m presenting on it in Feb. at a conference. My God, Dylan put out his first original music in eight years. It will take me eight years to fully ingest it and enjoy it. You see, no matter what happens, humanity will tell its stories and gather to make its songs. It’s that human resilience. Creation of art is not trivial. It’s vital. It has continued in this odd and strange year. It is humanity’s greatest gift and I have definitely used it this year as a resilience and growth tool.

Those are my top blessings in this horrific and, yet, wondrous year. However, you have been impacted, what we all share in common is that In a very short time it will be a memory of a year in the past.

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plexxable-reads · 4 years

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REVIEW: The Once and Future Witches by Alix E. Harrow

✪✪✪

Read: 7/6/20-7/18/20

**S P O I L E R S** Please continue at your own risk. Thank you so much to NetGalley, Redhook Publishing, and Alix E. Harrow for the early ARC in exchange for an honest review 3.5/5 I’m honestly heartbroken to write this review. Taking a deep breath here... I’ll start by saying Alix E. Harrow is an exceptional author and one of my ‘Top 5’ all-time favorites (The Ten Thousand Doors of January) came out of her brain. I’d also like to add, I’m a fellow artist, a musician— I know how daunting it is to follow up such a strong debut. It sucks, honestly. Really fkn sucks. A lot. With that said... [I’m so upset to type this] I did not immerse into this like I had hoped. 🙍🏻 The pacing was really not my thing. Every time I thought I was getting hooked in, it flat-lined for me. There’s a lotttt of exposition. This isn’t always a bad thing, and if Harrow wasn’t such a skilled writer that truly has a knack for developing a unique, visceral tone for her main characters, I might’ve given up at about 40%. I would say that this is fiction, sub genre historical fiction. It’s absolutely necessary to provide a bit of context, but I felt it was overdone at times (and underdone in others????) And now, folks, the most devastating and uncomfortable critique I have— As I said, this piece has a lot of historical context to it, which I love. Unfortunately, I was disappointed that a story, centering witching, barely spent any time talking about the Black (Egyptian and Haitian) community of witches (The Daughters of Tibuta) who reside in New Cairo. I found it incredibly frustrating that there was so much given regarding our [white] protagonist Sisters of Avalon from New Salem— their history, their family history, their witching history... and yet the section when Cleo finally tells Bella about The Daughters is so lacking, I actually had a hard time finding it again when I wanted to go back before writing this review (Chapter 18). To write a historically accurate book on witching, and to neglect a key part of its history, considering the overarching theme of the novel is “stronger together” in many ways, left me pretty disappointed. Speaking of disappointment, let’s talk about Ms. Cleopatra Quinn some more— oh wait, there’s not much more to tell. 😢 Again, a huge missed opportunity here. I found her character fell into a common trope with “strong, black femxle” characters across pretty much all disciplines of narrative fiction: they’re one-dimensional and pretty much act as a plot device in service of bailing out the white characters from their messes. Harrow barely scratches the surface...throwing us a few crumbs when we finally hear about her bearded marriage to a gay man, and then it’s back to the Eastwood Sisters Show. And listen, I’m not unaware of who this story is supposed to be about. I get that. I like the sisters, I really do, but it’s quite possible to create supporting characters that are fully messy, beautiful, piercing ruckuses (which, with Harrow’s previous work, shows she’s fully capable of, by the way!) without taking away from the story’s main protagonists and I just did not feel it happened here. It just... bothered me. Again, I take no joy in sharing this, and maybe had I read this a year ago, I might not have (as a white cis person) thought twice about this, but with racial inequity at the forefront of mine and many other people’s minds, I again found myself pretty frustrated... I mean, Cleo is honestly one of the most interesting characters in this book in my opinion— she deserved better, she really did. Cleo was not the only supporting character to get the shaft— Jennie, the Sisters of Avalon’s first member and record keeper, former suffragette assistant, and as we find out at ~82%, she happens to be trans. Now, I’m all for having trans characters without focusing too much on their identities. I think this is an important evolution that needs to be made in how art tells trans stories and represents that community. To represent them as regular people who are, and need to be known as trans, but it’s not the entirety of who they are. This is necessary, so it’s not the lack of talking about her identity that I take issue with. However, this is revealed so late in the book (like, 82%???) that I actually had to double-back and reread the section again. Similar to Cleo’s small nugget of development, it came and went so fast, I was left feeling really empty from wanting to get to know Jennie better, and not being given that chance. Phew. How’s everyone doing? That was rough. I feel tired. Let’s talk about some great parts of this book, yeah? Again, I can’t overstate enough how skilled I feel Harrow is. Despite feeling like I missed out on so much of who Cleo is, my favorite sections were the dialogue between Bella and Cleo. Their romance is truly beautiful with some of the most elegant intimacy scenes probably ever written. I would 100000% read a spin-off centering them. I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention our Sisters Eastwood and their masterfully crafted dynamic. Each of the three are so distinct, not just in personality and quirk, but also in the way that they process (shared and individual) trauma. Really freakin riveting character study. (Not to beat a dead horse, but that’s precisely why I couldn’t let my critiques slide for Cleo, Jennie, hell... I even would’ve taken more on August! It’s not only a disservice to what I know are such fascinating characters living in the author’s brain, it’s a disservice to Harrow as a very capable character author. Just let me in your brain, Alix!) Okay, so here’s the summarized consensus— I didn’t hate it, how could I? It’s Alix-freakin E. Harrow. It just wasn’t all the way there for me. I told myself after finishing that I’d reread it, I’ll definitely buy a physical copy once it’s officially released, but currently I’m not crazy about this one. And like, that makes me so, so sad. Thank you again to NetGalley, Redhook Publishing, and Alix E. Harrow for allowing me such an early look! (please don’t hate me...)

#the once and future witches #alix e. harrow #book blog #book review #netgalley

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destiel-love-forever · 5 years

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The Set-Up

In Claire and Jack Novak's opinion, it's been far too long since their dad went out on a date. Castiel Novak doesn't think it's an issue. His children disagree.

So, they make a plan.

Enter a dating app, a fake profile, and an unsuspecting Dean Winchester. What could go wrong?

Read Below or on AO3: The Set-Up

The Set-Up

The plan is simple. Only 3 steps.

Stage One: Make the dating profile.

The first thing the app asks is what picture or pictures they’d like to include. Claire wants the picture to be more on the attractive side, while Jack thinks it should be goofy. They decide to add three in order to cover all the bases. The first is of their dad when they went on a hike last month. He’s wearing that light blue shirt that makes his eyes bright. It was a weekend, so his stubble is grown in. The smile on his face is carefree, showing off his dimples and eye wrinkles. They both agree that he’s handsome - even sexy, if it were possible for their dad to be sexy - and use that as his main photo. The second picture is of their dad at an outdoor concert. He’s wearing his blackRebel With A Cause shirt and his sock monkey winter hat with the strings hanging down. The third is a picture of the three of them at the ocean. Uncle Gabriel had taken the photo just after a huge wave knocked them over, so everyone’s hair is all over the place. They’re standing together haphazardly, arms wrapped around each other so they can smile for the picture. You can practically hear the laughter.

“Perfect,” Claire announces, clapping her hands together after this part is done. “Now they see he’s a hot, goofy, single dad.”

“Do we want them to know the single dad part?” Jack asks nervously.

“Uh, duh! This isn’t Tinder, Jack. This is looking for a long-term thing. I think it’d be a little hard to do that while keeping his sixteen-year-old twin teenagers a secret.”

Jack shrugs, unable to argue. He clicks the NEXT button and they continue filling out the profile. It takes them thirty-four minutes, and a lot of arguing. It’s a relief when they finally submit it.

“Now what?” Jack asks as they stare at the finished profile.

“Now,” Claire pauses dramatically, giving Jack a crazed smile that makes him wonder if this plan was actually a good idea. “We wait.”

----

When Dean gets home from work after pulling a double-shift, he grabs a cold beer from the fridge and plops down on the couch. He kicks his feet up and turns on the TV to watch the football game that’s about to start. As the announcers go back and forth on what team is going to win, Dean starts messing around on his phone. His thumb hovers over the dating app Sam convinced him to install last week. He hasn’t looked at it since the first night. It’s not that he doesn’t want to find someone, he’d love to, but it’s such a time-consuming process.

After glancing up at the TV to see that there’s still ten minutes before kick-off, he figures he might as well scroll through the thing. What’s the harm in looking? It might even be entertaining.

Case in point: The first profile Dean sees is of a man maybe ten years older than him with a black Santa beard, who has wrapped himself in a strange-looking rainbow towel and is holding what looks like a pet mouse. Dean doesn’t even read the description of that one.

The next isn’t terrible. A younger guy with a cute smile. Dean rolls his eyes when he reads the blurb on the guy's profile. Every achievement in his life is written out for Dean to read - from winning his highschool talent show to getting a masters in business. He then lays out his dating history, in which each situation he was the victim.

Next.

Dean's breath catches when he flicks his thumb to a picture of an absolutely beautiful man. He's standing on what looks like the top of the mountain, grinning at the camera. Despite the hiking clothes and messy, sweaty hair, he still manages to be Dean's wet dream.

Holding his breath, Dean starts to read the blurb on this guy's - Castiel, Age 38 - profile. He's praying this guy doesn't suck like all the others.

I'm a freelance photographer, a terrible singer, and have a set of 16-year-old twins that make my world chaotic. When my kiddos graduate I plan on doing a lot of traveling. My Hogwarts house is Hufflepuff - yeah I'm a 38-year-old man who cares about his Hogwarts house, fight me - and my patronus is a guinea pig. I'm allergic to guinea pigs though, so not sure what that says about me. Message at your own risk if none of that scares you off.

Dean reads the paragraph two more times, grinning like an idiot. He scrolls through the rest of the pictures, each one sporting an equally good looking Castiel, and decides this one is worth a shot.

He opens up the chat feature but then his thumbs freeze. What does he even say? He rereads Castiel's paragraph before typing out what he hopes will be a response the guy likes.

Dean spends the rest of the game checking the app every two minutes. When he finally gets the checkmark that Castiel read it, he holds his breath and stares at the screen. Then it tells him Castiel is typing. Dean's heart races. He decides it'd be a good idea to grab another beer while he waits.

This Castiel guy has him feeling like a damn teenager again. If Dean's being honest, he kind of missed that.

----

"Dad got a new message!"

"Oh god, is it another creeper?" Jack asks, hurrying over to where his sister is sitting on the couch. It's a valid question. They've had some real wackjobs message their dad. One asked upfront for a dick pic. Another told him he'd like to bring him on a walk in the forest at night. Suffice to say, those got deleted.

"No, he's hot!" Claire grins at Jack, showing him a picture of a very handsome man that looks to be a little younger than their dad. He has kind green eyes and a warm smile. The picture shows him at what seems to be a barbecue, people blurred in the background as he stands there wearing a faded flannel and holding a beer. Relaxed. Casual. Not full of himself.

"What's his profile say?"

Claire clicks on the button that makes the profile blurb pop up and read out loud, "I'm a pretty laid back guy, but I still squeeze in adventures every once in a while. Nothing's better than a lazy Sunday on the couch watching football - though kayaking down the river is a close second. If those kinds of things sound good to you, feel free to message me."

"He sounds good," Jack muses.

"Good? How about great. He's perfect. I mean, dad isn't a huge football fan, but he could read a book or something as they cuddle! And dad loves kayaking and stuff like that."

Jack lifts his hands. "I'm sorry. You're right. He sounds great. What does his message say?"

After a second, Claire reads, "Your chaos doesn't scare me. Life should be messy after all, right? Plus, I don't own any guinea pigs, so we're batting a thousand so far. Look at us go - and then a wink face."

"He's funny. That's good! Dad needs to laugh more."

"Dad needs to do what?" Castiel asks, strolling into the living room while looking at his twins suspiciously.

"Oh. Uh." Claire and Jack exchange a look. Then Claire says, "Sleep more. We were just talking about how you're always up late and up early. You need to relax more."

Castiel chuckles. "I'll keep that in mind. Don't worry about your old man, kiddos. I'm fine."

As Castiel flips through the channels on the TV, Claire leans in to whisper in Jack's ear. "He's not fine, but he will be." She shows him the message she sent back to Dean, grinning mischievously.

"Stage two?" Jack asks in excitement.

"Stage two."

Stage Two: Arrange a meeting.

After seven messages stretched over 36 hours, Dean asks if they can meet. He suggests something low key and public, making a joke about serial killers, and Castiel (A.K.A. Claire and Jack) says he knows just the place. They agree on grabbing some coffee on Saturday morning at a little cafe downtown. Ten A.M.

That gives the twins sixteen hours to get their dad to that cafe at that particular time. Unsuspecting, of course.

Stage Three: Get dad to the cafe.

They ambush him at dinner. Claire starts - she’s usually the one to take the reins. Even as a toddler, she was the troublemaker of the two.

“So, dad. What are you doing tomorrow morning?”

Castiel, always very perceptive, pauses halfway through cutting his steak and looks up at his daughter. His eyebrows pull in. “Nothing… that I know of.”

“Perfect! We want to hang out with you.”

“Excuse me?” Castiel looks at Jack, then back at Claire, highly suspicious. “You want to hang out? With me? On a Saturday?” He looks at each of them again. “Without me telling you you have to?”

Jack steps in. “School starts in a week. I’ll be busy with football and student council, and Claire will be busy with dance and drama. We just wanted to spend a little extra time with you.”

Wanting to make this sound a bit more realistic - because they’re teenagers after all - Claire adds, “And we were kiiiiiind of hoping you’d bring us clothes shopping for back to school, too.”

“Ahh, there it is. The motive.” Castiel winks at his kids. “Fine. We can go school clothes shopping.”

“And coffee!” Jack adds enthusiastically.

“Coffee?”

Claire shoots her brother a look for shouting that at their dad instead of being more subtle, then smiles at Castiel and says, “Well, that’s what we wanted to do first. Get coffees and then go shopping.”

“You don’t have to bribe me, kiddos. I’ll take you shopping.”

“It’s not a bribe,” Jack states firmly.

“Yeah. It’s a thing.” Claire shrugs a shoulder. “It’s very New York City. Everyone’s been doing it.”

“Doing what?” Castiel asks, slightly exasperated.

“Getting coffees. It’s way cooler than stupid stuff like bowling or the movies.”

Jack nods. “It’s more sophisticated. Grown-up.”

This makes Castiel smile. “Okay. Grown-up coffee date it is.”

----

Castiel sighs as they walk into the coffee shop. It’s been a morning of overbearing children. First, he planned on letting them sleep-in this morning. What teenagers don’t want to sleep-in on Saturday, a week before they go back to school? Apparently Castiel’s. They made it clear they needed to get their coffee by 10 AM, because the mall opens at 11 and they don’t want to have to wait in lines.

Then what Castiel wanted to wear - old jeans and a hooded sweatshirt - was apparently not cool enough for them, whatever that means. They talked him into his nice pair of dark jeans and a soft grey sweater that’s thin enough for the lingering warmth of summer.

As he started driving them to Starbucks, he was quickly directed downtown instead. His kids love Starbucks. At least, they used to. Now it’s apparently not what everyone is doing. It’s not New York City - something they both keep saying, even though Castiel is clueless what New York has to do with anything.

Now they’re in the coffee shop, and Castiel is sent to get himself coffee while Claire and Jack go talk to a friend. They say they’ll be back in a minute, telling Castiel to just go sit. When he offers to get them their coffees, they both nearly shout at him not to before stuttering something about not being sure what they want yet.

Castiel gets his Americano and slumps down at a table in the corner. He pulls his phone out and opens the chat for Gabriel. He’s the coolest person Castiel knows - which sort of hurts the soul to admit.

Castiel: Do you know what it means for something to be ‘So New York City’? And since when is Starbucks not cool?

"Excuse me?" Castiel puts his phone down and glances up at the man who just spoke to him. He's taken aback. Not only is the man gorgeous - dressed in black jeans and a faded denim-colored button-up shirt that has the top few buttons left open, with a charming smile that involves the prettiest pink lips Castiel has ever seen, a dusting of freckles, and green eyes that feel like they could see into his soul - but he's also standing extremely close to Castiel. Like, if Castiel were to stand up, they'd be chest to chest.

Castiel clears his throat and awkwardly says, "Uh, hey. Can I help you?"

The guy stares at him for a few seconds, then his gorgeous smile fades. "You're Castiel, right?"

"Right." Castiel scans the cafe, confused. "I'm sorry, have we met?"

"Seriously?"

"Well - yes."

The guy huffs, clearly angry now. "I'm Dean."

"Okay." Castiel scratches the back of his head and laughs nervously. "Well, hi Dean. Can I help you with something?"

"Great. I knew you were too good to be true. Just had to be a fucking dick." Dean turns to leave before spinning back around and glaring at Castiel. "Why even show up? Why keep messaging me? Seriously. What the hell is this?"

Now Castiel is really confused. "Messaging you? I'm sorry, sir. I have no idea-" his eyes travel past Dean's shoulder, catching sight of Jack and Claire trying to hide behind a bookshelf. "Oh, Jesus christ."

"What?" Dean growls.

Castiel laughs softly. That's all he can do in this situation. He's so shocked that his kids pulled this off that he can't even be pissed right now. He's sure that will come later, though.

"Let me guess. We met on a dating app or website."

"Dude, what is this? Is this some sort of fucking game?"

"No. Unfortunately, it is not." Castiel points at his twins, who look terrified. When Dean sees them, Castiel explains. "Apparently my pain in the ass teenagers didn't want to accept my I don't want to date right now. I'm assuming they're who you've been talking to."

Dean stares at them before turning to look at Castiel with wide eyes. "You know, it was written on your profile that they create chaos in your life. I was forewarned. Just had no idea I was going to be a part of their troublemaking."

"Okay, I need to see this profile now." Castiel laughs, trying to imagine what his kids would have put. "Can I buy you coffee as an apology?"

"An apology?" Dean scoffs, stepping closer to him so he can speak in a lower voice. "You're not getting out of this one, blue eyes. I'm on their side. You and I are on a date right now."

"We most certainly are not."

Dean winks at him. Winks! "I'm gonna grab myself a coffee. You just stay there."

"But-"

"Need anything? Muffin? Refill?"

"I - but - no." Castiel wipes a hand down his face, suddenly nervous. He's on a date. He's not ready for a date. He doesn't have topics prepared in case the conversation lulls. He didn't ask Gabriel what to do or say in every possible scenario.

Before Castiel can panic further, Dean is back. He puts a gentle hand on Castiel's shoulder and pushes him until he's sitting in his chair, then goes to the opposite side of the table to sit across from him. His grin is even wider than it was when they first spoke. That was a sexy, but nervous Dean. This is a confident, amused Dean.

Great.

"So, Castiel. Let's get a few things straight. Is your patronus really a guinea pig? And how exactly does one get themselves sorted into Hufflepuff?"

Castiel groans. What other embarrassing stuff has his children told this man? He looks over at where Jack and Claire or clearly spying on them from across the cafe. He narrows his eyes and mouths you two are dead while doing a line across his throat with his finger.

When he turns to look at Dean again, the guy is laughing. He's loving this.

"First of all," Castiel begins, letting a large amount of sass into his tone. "If we’re going to try this, you aren’t allowed to bash Hufflepuff. What’s your house anyway?”

“Gryffindor,” Dean states proudly.

Castiel rolls his eyes. “Cliche.”

“Uh, I can’t help that that’s my house!”

“Did you take the official test?” Dean doesn’t even have to answer. The look on his face and the way his eyes awkwardly dart to the side give him away. Castiel points an accusing finger at him. “Exactly. So you’re one of those wannabe Harry Potter guys. No giving me shit for being Hufflepuff until you take the test too, asshole.”

Dean laughs softly, looking at Castiel with eyes that practically sparkle. “Alright. Fair enough.”

“Second of all, that right there?” Castiel points a finger at his twins, then at Dean. “Not cool. Not cool. You’re on team dad if you come around. No joining those two to gang up on me.”

The smirk Dean gives Castiel makes it pretty damn clear this rule isn’t going to be followed, even though he says, “Of course.”

Lucky for Dean, Castiel’s already hooked on this man. He’s laid back. Good looking. Funny. Charming. It’s easy for them to talk and tease each other. He’s making Castiel laugh for the first time in a long time. Plus, he already passed the crazy teenager test. If this guy can handle the fact that he was tricked by the twins to come here on a blind date with their dorky, uncooperative dad, then Castiel can give him a chance.

“What’s number three?” Dean asks.

“Huh?”

“There was a first of all. Then a second of all.” Dean puts his elbows on the table and leans closer to Castiel, almost like they’re sharing secrets. “What’s the third of all?”

“Umm,” Castiel looks at his coffee, feeling himself blush. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t blushed in years. “Third of all - ummm.”

“Can I do the third of all?”

Castiel tilts his head, looking at Dean in curiosity. “Sure.”

“Great.” Dean licks his lips, eyes flicking down to Castiel’s own mouth. When he looks back up at Castiel, it looks like he wants to eat him alive. “I'm bringing you to dinner tonight so we can have a proper first date. One where your two goofballs aren't spying on us."

Castiel turns around, laughing when he sees that Jack and Claire have moved closer now, trying to hide behind an open menu that barely covers one of their faces, let alone two. He looks back and Dean and smiles. "Dinner tonight sounds perfect."

#destiel #fluff #silly #twins #claire novak #castiel novak #Jack kline #jack novak #dean winchester #fake dating #dating profiles #mischief #meddling #teenagers #dad cas

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