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ameliora-j · 3 years

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before i fell // dm x reader

words: 2.8k

warnings: angst, talk of a breakup, mention of loss of virginity, mention of not eating, mention of not sleeping, pansy is kinda ooc and so is draco, the slytherins are assholes

a/n: i used a lot of olivia rodrigo lyrics bc i listened to SOUR while writing lol. lmk if i should add other warnings and happy reading babies!

you would be cliche and say that you fell in love the way that you fall asleep. slowly and then all at once. but you couldn’t because you didn’t. it wasn’t a john green novel and you weren’t hazel grace lancaster. falling in love wasn’t simple, and that description of it truly… didn’t describe anything. falling in love was more complicated than that. there were more layers to it than that. falling in love was rather… quick and unexpected. unexpected like snow in the middle of march. or rain when there’s not a cloud in sight. quick like waiting months for an event and finally when the time comes, it feels like you blinked and then it was over.

falling in love with draco malfoy was all of these things and more. falling in love with draco malfoy brought upon more layers than that. falling in love with draco malfoy brought pain. not just any kind of pain, no… horrible, heart wrenching, gut twisting pain. pain that began by bubbling itself in your chest right at the center of your heart, then slowly but surely worked it’s way outwards. encapsulating your entire body and making every inch of your body ache. pain like when you get attached to a character and the author kills them off. pain like when you finish your favorite book and you realize that you’re not truly in that universe and none of that actually happened. pain like when you’re two hours, fifteen minutes, and twelve seconds into avengers: infinity war and peter parker says “mr. stark, i don’t feel so good.” pain that you’ve never felt. pain that can’t be described. pain that you felt for days. pain.

you thought it was strange when the platinum blonde slytherin sought you out. he came to you one day while you sat silently at the black lake. you were alone, but only because you liked to be. you had friends of course, many actually, but you chose to be alone. the black lake was your place of solace. then along came draco. he sat beside you, a good distance away, but his presence was known. you looked to him for an explanation but he offered none. just smiled at you and turned to his notes, so you did the same. the second time he came, he sat closer, but still in silence. the third time is when he struck up conversation.

“yln, yeah?” he questioned.

“yn, actually. but yes, yn yln. and you’re draco malfoy?” you asked.

“i am,” he smirked at your knowledge of his name and then you returned to your studying. after that, the two of you talked every time he came and sat with you. short discussions about the weather or the potions assignment. you don’t know when, but soon they became longer. discussions of your day and your family. your interests and how you got your name. how you loved the rain and the stars and how you loved hogwarts, but you often missed home. draco knew you inside and out and you knew him—and before long, you called the tall, skinny blonde your boyfriend.

you walked the halls of hogwarts together, hand in hand. draco walked haughtily with a hard scowl and you with a bright smile. while you walked cheerfully and waved to your friends and to first years while draco glared at anyone who dared look at the two of you. he took you to parties in the slytherin common room and you wore his jersey proudly at quidditch games, even when he played against your house. he bought you lavish gifts at all of your trips to hogsmeade and he showered you in kisses, praise, and affection. you were whole heartedly smitten with the sole heir to the malfoy fortune.

it was one fateful day in the common room when your heart absolutely exploded. that was the day you knew that you fell in love with draco malfoy. you had been a thing for about two, going on three, months. you were sitting in the slytherin common room, reading in silence when he asked. you were pressed against his chest and he pressed a soft kiss to your head. “‘ve been meaning to ask you something,” he murmured gently. this caused you to close the book and turn your full attention to him. “want you to wear this,” he said, holding out a ring. “it’s the malfoy family crest.”

your stomach and your heart exploded into billions of butterflies and you launched yourself forward, straight into his chest. millions of emotions overcame you as you squeezed his neck as tight as possible. you nodded into his neck as a few stray tears fell. he kissed your head repeatedly as he slid the ring onto your finger before pressing his lips to your’s gently. you giggled excitedly as you stared down at the ring on your finger. “do you like it?” he asked you.

“i love it, dray. i love you. thank you s’much,” you confessed for the first time as you cuddled back into his chest. you don’t know what it was that made the blonde boy seek you out, but you’re glad he did. if only you knew the true nature of his intentions. but alas, you were oblivious.

it was the beginning of the school year, on the train to hogwarts. in the compartment of what was labeled as “the slytherin squad.” there sat theo nott, pansy parkinson, blaise zabini, and—your now boyfriend—draco malfoy.

they were all sitting around, taking the piss out of draco for all of his past failed relationships when it was brought up. “i’ll bet malfoy couldn’t get a girl to fall in love with him if he paid her,” theo spoke.

“i’ll take that bet,” draco countered.

“alright. but we get to pick the girl,” blaise decided.

“what?” pansy asked as theo began to look around the compartment. it was a few minutes before he found the victim. it was then that your fate was sealed. there, sitting in the back corner, head tucked deep into a copy of the fault in our stars, was you. you. awkward and quiet. you with seemingly no friends. poor little unsuspecting you.

“that one,” nott smirked evilly.

“what the weirdo?!” draco exclaimed incredulously. “no way!”

“so then you forfeit?” blaise asked, causing draco to release a frustrated exhale.

“alright i’ll do it,” he rolled his eyes.

“then we give you five months. make yn yln fall in love with you in five months and we’ll do your homework for the rest of the year,” theo posed.

“and if i don’t?” draco asked.

“and when you don’t… thennn,” blaise taunted as he searched for a deal that was fair.

“then we get two hundred galleons each and you have to apologize to potter for making his life hell,” theo smirked. draco scoffed at this and rolled his eyes, but nodded nonetheless.

“and what are my conditions?” he raised an eyebrow.

“she has to say it first. you can do anything you want or need to get her to say it, but you cannot say ‘i love you’ first,” blaise spoke.

“this doesn’t seem fair to yn,” pansy piped in.

“shut your mouth parkinson. no one asked your opinion,” theo growled with a roll of his eyes. but it was too late. there was absolutely nothing the girl could do to get the three to change their minds. she just had to sit idly by and watch draco malfoy break your heart as she said nothing. she wished that she could stop it, but their minds were made up. and the three of them were very stubborn.

it was a few days after draco gave you his ring when your bubble came crashing down. you were walking to meet draco at your spot at the black lake when blaise and theo intercepted you. you knew who they were, of course you did. they were your boyfriend’s best friends, however why they were currently speaking to you, you had no idea.

they told you it would be quick. that they just wanted to show you something in the slytherin common room and left little room for argument, so you had no choice but to follow them there. they sat you on the couch and began to discuss your relationship with draco. you were very confused and had no idea why you were here. “so… draco hasn’t told you?” blaise mocked a gasp of shock.

“no?” you raised a soft eyebrow as you stared on. this made theo smirk evilly as he pulled up a projector and pointed his wand at it. a picture appeared, it looked like a memory. “what’s this?” you asked before the boys urged you to ‘shh.’ you sunk further into the couch as you idly watched on.

you truly weren’t paying attention untill you heard the voice of your boyfriend. the words he spoke stung. you were soft. emotional. the way he spoke about you absolutely crushed you. it would crush anyone, but it shattered you especially. “she’s so fucking weird!” “i’ll take that bet.”

‘s all you were. all you ever were. just a stupid belt. another notch in his belt. it was that moment that draco had barged into the common room. but by then, it was already too late. the tears had already sprung to your eyes and you were preparing for a torrential downpour as you heard his voice. “i’m out!” he announced breathlessly. he froze in his run as his eyes fell on you and what was playing on the projector currently. “bunny…” he whispered softly as his hand touched your shoulder, but you quickly jerked away as if his hand had burned you on contact.

“don’t call me that. don’t touch me,” you demanded as the tears began to fall. “that’s all i was? a bet?” an involuntary whimper sounded from the depths of your throat. “i feel so stupid.” you shook your head.

“no, bunny please listen to me,” you didn’t allow the boy to finish as you wrapped your arms tightly around yourself.

“don’t call me that!” you demanded. “in fact don’t call me at all. don’t… don’t talk to me draco. ever again. i can’t believe i fell for your stupid joke. i feel so… i feel like an idiot,” you spoke. you shook your head, hastily wiping at your eyes untill you saw stars. it was then that you decided to walk away.

“YN STOP!” draco yelled. “LISTEN to me,” he demanded.

“NO!” you shouted as you turned to face him finally. “godric draco, i wish you would’ve thought this through before i went and fell in love with you,” you sniffled as you wiped your snot on your sweater sleeve.

“yn please just let me explain. please listen to me, please,” he begged.

“i feel like you betrayed me,” you shook your head. “i told you everything. you were my everything. draco i loved you. i actually loved you. i thought you loved me too but i guess you’re just a really good actor,” you sniffled once more. “i hate you draco. i really fucking hate you. i don’t want to hear your bullshit explanation because i know that you’ll never feel sorry for the way i’m hurting right now.”

“it was a bet!” draco shouted as you walked away, hand on the door knob. you scoffed as you muttered a sarcastic, ‘no shit.’ “that’s how it started yes, but then i got to know you. i figured out who you were. i learned that your favorite color is yfc and that you prefer night over day because you love the stars and that your favorite star is scorpius and you would name your son after that star one day. i learned that you love to read and you love when it storms but you're afraid of the thunder. you only dance when you’re drunk and you giggle when you’re nervous and i love that giggle. with everything in me i do. your favorite book is yfb and you choose to be alone but you let everyone be your friend. you’re gorgeous. inside and out and while it may have started as a bet, somewhere along the lines i fell in love with you so yn please. please don’t leave,” he whispered the last part as his voice came out broken.

you took a deep breath in before you began to speak. “you couldn’t have cared less about someone who loved you more. i’d say you broke my heart but you broke much more than that,” you shook your head as you furiously wiped at your eyes again. “i gave you my all draco. you were my first everything. i gave you my virginity for merlin’s sake. all to find out that i was just some stupid bet,” you scoffed.

“yn please believe me when i say that you’re so much more than that,” he begged again. “i came to tell them that they won. that i wanted out because i fell in love with you too!”

“it doesn’t matter if you don’t see me as a bet any longer. the fact is that you did. i’m worth so so much more than that.” your breaths were ragged as you spoke. “i really wish that you had thought this through before i went and fell in love with you.” you repeated with a small sniffle. “don’t you think i loved you too much to be used and discarded? don’t you think i loved you too much to think i deserve nothing?” you were openly sobbing at this point.

“yn please believe me when i tell you how sorry i am…” he spoke softly.

“don’t tell me you’re sorry. feel sorry for yourself. because someday i’ll be everything to somebody else,” with this you turned away from him. you hastily opened the door and practically ran out of the common room and away from him.

at that moment you decided to forget about it. draco, and the bet, and love, and everything. like in the vampire diaries, you decided to turn your emotions off. you laid in your dorm crying for hours before you made that decision, however. your dorm mates checked on you often, but you never offered more than merely a half hearted shrug, letting them know that you were still alive, but barely breathing. you skipped classes and meals. you were a mere shell of yourself. it was about two weeks before you could face draco again. and even then you couldn’t truly. you went into the great hall and found “the slytherin squad” sans draco.

pansy looked at you sympathetically while theo and blaise basked in the glow of their new victory. you pulled the ring off carelessly as you stopped in front of them, hair disheveled and uniform askew. you had dark bags under your eyes from the lack of sleep you’d gotten in the past fourteen days and your eyes were rimmed red with the weight of your emotions. “c’you just give this back to malfoy,” you murmured half-heartedly as you dropped the ring on the table in front of the three. just speaking his name brought you pain.

your shoulders were sunken in defeat and you were but a shell of your usual cheerful self. you don’t even know when the last time you saw daylight or had fresh air was. “wait yln,” pansy called hesitantly. you turned to face her, still staring down at your mary janes as you pulled and twisted your fingers untill you heard your knuckles pop. “you… you really love him, don’t you?”

you just shrugged your right shoulder as you used the heel of your palm to wipe the snot from your rapidly reddening nose. “i was just some stupid bet,” you replied as tears begin to spill rapidly over your waterline.

“if it’s any consolation… it was those two bozos’ idea,” pansy told you as she pointed to blaise and theo.

“doesn’t matter,” you murmured. “he’s still a traitor,” you answered as you walked away, forgetting all about the slytherin prince and his stupid friends. forgetting all about how he hit you with a train of his “love.” forgetting all about how for three months he was your everything. forgetting all about how he wrote to his mum about you and you wrote to your parents about him. forgetting all about draco malfoy. the platinum blonde boy with stormy grey eyes who had a long story buried beneath his haughty exterior. the boy who you called your first. your first kiss. your first time. your first love. forgetting all about the boy that made you fall in love just to tell you it was all a bet.

attempting to revert back to how you were before you fell.

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therealvinelle · 3 years

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I agree that Aro definitely is not straight, but if he is gay and not bi, why window shop for a wife? If he wanted a partner for some reason, why not find a male one? It was a different era, yes, but are vampires really homophobic?

So, for this meta, we’ll have to get historical. Before we do, keep in mind that while I know Ancient Greece better than most, having studied it (introductory level classes only, mind), I don’t know it well enough to be any kind of authority on the matter. History, more than any other discipline I can think of, is not respected as an academic field, and people with poor to no understanding of historical hermeneutics will make very bold assumptions that they then have too poor understanding of history to realize are bullshit. This is a disclaimer because I don’t want to join in on the chorus of authoritative-sounding people on the internet with no verifiable credentials who spout things about history that are then taken to be gospel truth by readers because the author made it sound good.

More, I say this because your question is asking me to explain the morality and social norms surrounding a character from 14th century BC Greece. And this man would not, for the record have been Ancient Greek, he would have been Mycenaean Greek. Very quick history lesson: Mycenaean Greece was a flourishing society that suffered a downfall, Greek civilization fell into its very own dark ages, until around 800 BC when Greeks began forming what would become the Ancient Greece we know and love. This in turn means that I can’t very well read up on the marital and sexual norms of Ancient Greece when I’m researching for Aro, because he was five hundred years old already when Ancient Greece became a thing.

And your question concerns cultural history. And for that we’re going to have to look at how we know the things we know about history. How history is studied.

Historians have two kinds of sources: archeological findings and written records. (I’m aware that oral tradition, like the one carried by the Aborigine people, isn’t technically one of these, but to my understanding it’ll be treated to similar analysis as written records, which leaves us with the two types of sources standing strong.) These sources are analyzed, and we apply various theories and models onto them to make sense of the context they were written in. The more sources we have, the more we can refine or eliminate these theories or models.

More, history is an ever evolving field. There are movements and schools of thought that influence how history is written (marxism in history, that is, history as a class struggle, was heavy in the 60′s and I think until the 80′s), which means that how a certain culture will be perceived today is not the way it was perceived a few decades ago, nor will it be perceived the same way a few decades in the future.

You see why I am daunted by you asking me to give you an answer about sexual and marital norms for a guy who lived 3000 years ago, and I hope you’ll understand why I feel this word vomit is necessary.

Now, the danger with Mycenaean Greece is that it’s a society it’s easy to feel we know a lot about, because it was the precursor to Ancient Greece, and we know a lot about the latter. But, first of, the reason why we know as much as we do about the Ancient Greeks is the Romans. The Greeks wrote about their history, their philosophy, their government, and they wrote plays and told stories. However, that was two thousand years ago and their writings would have been lost to the sands of time if the Romans hadn’t idolized and sought to emulate their society. This meant preserving their written records. This tradition was carried on by the Christians, in part because Hellenistic philosophy was incorporated into Christian philosophy. We have neo-platonism to thank for Christian asceticism, the “mind over matter” cornerstone.

What I’m getting at with all of this is that we know the insane amount about Ancient Greece that we do because of some very unique circumstances, and so we can make very sophisticated theories about what the Hellenistic world was like. It’s still detective work, but not Pepe Silvia type of detective work. This is not the case for Mycenaean Greece. We know a comparative lot about Mycenaean Greece, considering how long ago it was, but there is very much we don’t know.

With Mycenaean Greece, we are dealing with a lot more uncertainty. We haven’t deciphered one of their two writing styles, and a lot of the text we do have is very fragmentary. Coming up with detailed societal models for Mycenaean Greece, and for the 14th century BC specifically, is... well I don’t know enough about what this society left behind to know what historians have to work with, but I imagine they have their work cut out.

More, I haven’t studied this at all, which means that any attempt on my end to research this would be stumbling around in the dark.

One example: the Illiad and the Odyssey, while composed around the 8th century BC, were set in the early 12th century BC, which is nearly Aro’s time period. The Illiad depicts a homoerotic relationship between Patroclus and Achilles, and both works depict a lot of matrimonies, so I wish I could use it as a source. However, not only would this time gap alone make these sources questionable, but there’s also the matter of the Illiad and the Odyssey being transmitted orally, from bard to bard. Changes were made over the years. For example, the technology described in the Illiad is from several eras, as the warriors will be using bronze weaponry in one book and then switch to iron in the next. This game of telephone is what happens when a story is transmitted orally from person to person. So, while it’s tempting to use these works as a sort of reference point, the possibility, likelihood even, that the bards made adjustments to keep the old story entertaining for their contemporary audience is strong.

For this reason, I can’t give you any kind of historically correct analysis on what the marital or sexual mores would have been like in Aro’s time. Even if the knowledge is out there, I don’t have it.

But I can say this, spouses have for the longest time been partners. Men and women got married, even in the gay, gay, Ancient Greece, not just to have children but because they complemented each other, they were partners. Men needs wives, and women needs husbands. And a partner was canonically exactly what Aro was looking for, feelings had nothing to do with it:

After Caius and Marcus had found their romantic attachments, Aro decided to find his own, although rather than finding his other half in another vampire Aro decided to create his own instead. Aro had a certain type of woman in mind and he found what he was looking for in Sulpicia. He successfully courted her and she came to fall in love with him.

As for vampires being homophobic, I think that is for another post about what culture they bring with them into their new life. But to be brief I’ll say that while the individual vampire can be homophobic, there can be no homophobia at an institutional level because vampires have no institutions. And it’s the institutional homophobia that gets ya. It’s what the whole fight for gay rights has been about: secure legislation against discrimination and that protects gay people. (The right to marry and protection from employees firing LGBT employees comes to mind as examples of this.)

So, no one could force Aro to marry a woman.

And I’d go into a rant here about how the prospect of gay marriage, of even identifying as homosexual (the labels homosexual, bisexual, and heterosexual are very new and, to my recollection, were born off of the Western psychiatric discipline as men who slept with other men were diagnosed with homosexuality. I imagine a man from the Antiquity would be confused at the notion that just because he likes to sleep with dudes he shouldn’t get married to a woman), was unthinkable up until very recently, but I just made this obscenely long rant about how I can’t really make these kinds of guesses, so I’m not gonna.

I think being married to a woman and then banging hot dudes who came along suited Aro just fine.

Also, I can’t believe I’m doing this, but - I’m going to encourage history asks. Because this fandom has a bit of a history problem, as a lot of the characters are from different time periods and many feel unsatisfied with the way Meyer handled that. I am by no means a historian, but I know several of the historical periods the characters of Twilight are from well enough to make educated guesses.

So, hit me with your worst.

#WHEW #aro #sulpicia #aro/sulpicia #history #twilight renaissance #twilight meta #twilight #this is very long and I'm tired so I didn't proofread #GERONIMO as they say #hope there are no embarrassing mistakes #also yes I know I just made a pretentious ass of myself #but i'm writing twilight meta on tumblr so i left my dignity behind long ago #doktrajediscovery #ask

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oswinsdolma · 3 years

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Yes, it's 2021, but I'm still not over the dark irony of Kilgharrah's final words, so I am going to analyse it, even though precisely nobody asked.

Firstly, Kilgharrah tells Merlin after his admission of failure that "all that [he has] dreamt of has come to pass". Now, obviously there is the irony of the fact that Arthur is dead, something that Merlin has been trying to prevent for the whole five seasons, yet the battle was victorious, people have seen magic as a force for good and Merlin can now be open about his gifts with his friends. However, there is an even deeper irony here that is rarely addressed, and this lies in the word "all". The problem is, that while Emrys is the entity that strives for magical inclusion and the one that fufils the prophecy. Destiny is not conscious: it doesn't understand life or death beyond the shallow ties of balance and mathematics. Yet Emrys may be a concept, and concepts need someone- or something- to take root in, and that someone happened to be Merlin.

Fundamentally, Merlin is not a bad person, but regardless of his power, his empathy, his loyalty, he is still unequivocally human. He has flaws, he has guilt, and no matter how dedicated he is to his destiny, there will always be other variables that come into play, and there is therefore no doubt that Merlin would have had other thoughts, no matter how insignificant, that lay opposed to his destiny.

Take when Freya died: Merlin was heartbroken, and in those seconds of emotion before reason took a hold once again, he may have wished, just for a moment, that Arthur and Freya's fates were reversed. And even after that, he would have hoped that one day, Arthur and Freya could live in a world where the other's existence is not a violation onto the other. And what place exists where harmony must ensue outside of the dead?

Then moving on to Balinor's death and Merlin's anguish in its aftermath: yes, he gained his powers as a dragonlord, but at the expense of a father he should have had a right to know. In that light, there is the inevitability of resentment for his gifts. Merlin would never have wanted the powers he attained had he known the price for them. And yet again, those tiny thoughts would have crept in: the wish that things could go differently, the wish that the business of dragons was not his to oversee, even at the time when his gifts were needed most. So the sick twist there is that when Merlin needed Kilgharrah, the only person who ever truly understood him despite their differences, left him alone, that wish came true.

There are hundreds of instances where Merlin's humanity prevented the prophecy from taking a favourable turn, and that, I think is what makes Merlin less a drama than a tragedy: there's the hope for a better ending combined with the constant prescence of an ending you don't want to believe. There's the fall at the ending and the warped sense of catharsis that comes with knowing that the end did come, even if it wasn't what you expected.

Following that, there is a pause in the conversation, as both characters take a second to mourn in silence, the absence of what united them showing them no longer as allies, but as friends.

Then: "no man, no matter how great, can know his destiny." This isn't so much something for Merlin to understand, but more something for the audience to hear: it's an echo of the first words we hear, and therefore a reminder that it is Kilgharrah who tells the story. Now this is an interesting narrative device in itself: why have him narrate rather than Arthur? Why Kilgharrah over Merlin or Gwen or Morgana? Take a second to imagine what it would have been like for the story to start with their voices, even if the words were the same. Especially when we know their endings, it gives the story a different tone and alludes to each of their fates in a different way. Though here is that terrible truth that the narrative comes back to every time if you analyse it far enough: each of the core four has a story, yet because of the way they were used, it will never be their story to tell. But Kilgharrah... He was just as important as the rest of them, but while the others were pawns, he was sat watching the game with a reluctant but omniescent eye, and that's what make that line hit so hard for us (aside from the fact that it is a taunting echo of the hope we had at the start). The story, while timeless, is dead, and we are all helpless spectators, hoping against hope that we are wrong about how it ends.

Furthermore, there is the fact that it is a repeat of the first words we hear when we still hold a little hope. It is that reiteration of the fact that the story will be told and retold, rewritten and loved but doomed to end in tragedy. It's an indication of the timelessness of certain tales and the permenence of endings no matter how much we want them to change, and it hits the mark every time.

Then, if it wasn't sad enough already, there is the final utterence of the phrase "once and future king". Kilgharrah says these words in hope, trusting Merlin to take it as a promise, but retrospectively there is the darkness of that line that Merlin probably knew all along, even if he didn't let himself believe it. In saying "once" rather than "now" right from the get-go, there was that quiet acknowledgement of an ending, even if it was followed by a beginning: it is yet another reminder to Merlin that he should have known, and that bittersweet reassurance that wherever he may have done, it would always have ended in disaster. Even if they both made all the right choices, the gods would have found another way to turn it down.

Okay, next let's look at "when Albion's need is greatest, Arthur will rise again". This, in all.effect, is a reiteration of the last phrase, made clearer for an audience who may need or desire reinforcement here so I'm not going to go too deep. But the thing is, Merlin already knows, at least in his heart, that it is Arthur's destiny to rise again and be the greatest king Albion has ever known. So when Kilgharrah says this, it is not a warning or a piece of advice, for perhaps the first time, it is a kindness. Merlin has been wrecked by his actions and those of all the others caught in the imperfect web spun and left to decay by the idea of Albion. It is a gentle reminder not to forget the reason for all that they have lost, and an olive branch of freedom for one who was so long enslaved.

And there again is that irony and cruel truth that while Merlin is the crucible in which that dream will be forged and has a certain autonomy over its nature, he is not a part of that dream himself, and maybe he never will be. Not unless someone lets him in, and all the people who would ever have done so are a breath too close to death for it to really count.

(I said I wasn't going to go too deep but I got carried away)(this is why my lit teacher is fed up with me)

And finally, the last line Kilgharrah says to us, perhaps the most powerful of them all: "the story that we have been a part of will live long in the minds of men". To analyse the words in this individually would be a rare insult to its complexity, but as a phrase, it evokes such an emotive response that it alone finally cements that finality in our minds. It's the cyclical acknowledgement of the audience's role in the narrative, simultaneously retracting and strengthening our suspension of belief. The one word I have used more than any other in this essay is "story" and this is why: the people who hear a tale such as this become just as important as the characters, because we are united by hope for the final chord but dreading it, because that means that the song will finally be over. Is it better for the embers to glow with tragedy or be extinguished by a deeper catharsis?

In summary, it is obvious to the naked eye that the Great Dragon's last words are loaded with meaning far beyond their initial appearance, and when you dive deeper, the web of connotations is so vast that this essay has barely scratched the surface. But the informal and perhaps most accurate theme that wa can draw from this is that none of us are over this show, no matter what we claim, because that ending really flippin' hurt, okay!?

#bbc merlin #merlin #kilgharrah #sorry for the inevitable typos and poor writing because i never proofread my essays before i post #i have a lot of feelings

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imagine-loki · 3 years

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Hiding In Plain Sight

TITLE: Hiding in Plain Sight

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 10

AUTHOR: wolfpawn

ORIGINAL IMAGINE:Imagine coming from a line of nobility or royalty and being in an arranged marriage with Loki in an attempt to strengthen your kingdom / alliance with Asgard. You’re not entirely on board with the idea but figured that the best you could do was to get to know your fiancé. You form an agreement with Frigga for you to pose as Loki’s personal servant for a few months so you can get to know who Loki really is – beyond the veil of his responsibility to the Asgardian throne, behind all the masks he wears when facing the public, to really know who Loki is behind closed doors as you slowly fall for each other.How long will you keep up the ruse with the God of Lies? RATING: General Audience

NOTE - I finally got my ass in gear and finished something, thank Loki.

Raven gave him a withering look. “Again with the ‘she’ and ‘her’. You are going out of your way to be insulting at this stage.” “But you are Raven? Not ‘Breanna’?” Loki demanded.

“My grandmother called me Breanna. It’s one and the same.” She dismissed.

“You hid yourself as a maid?”

“I did.” “Why?” “I heard so many stories about you, so incredibly conflicting, I wanted to see for myself.” “So you pretended to be a maid? You…” Loki’s eyes widened. “You scrubbed my toilet.” He grimaced at that thought.

“In fairness, whatever else was ever said about you, your hygiene is impeccable.”

“Why?” “I told you.” “But why?”

“I learnt you are intelligent and can understand many languages and are very much able to comprehend the spoken word so I don’t think I need to repeat myself again. I know it is something you also dislike. You told me that the first day I spoke to you.” She walked around a little.

Loki studied her for a moment. Watching how she walked, so obviously well-bred and the manner in which she was speaking showing a significant education. He shook his head slightly as he spoke. “My brother said time and again that the Elven princess was raised in a manner that was meek and subservient. You have been insubordinate since the day you walked in here.”

“How can I be insubordinate to you, we are of equal standing. The extra children of the ruling monarch, merely existing in the slight offchance our older siblings do not make it to taking the throne.” She challenged.

“I think your father would rather a republic than have you on the throne.” Loki pointed out, his tone half of anger, half merely stating fact.

“I think he would too but the law is that I can take it regardless of my gender, I just need all four of my brothers to not get on it and have heirs.” She eyed him with intrigue, watching the glut of emotions swirling around in his face. Anger seemed to be winning as the most notable one. “I suggest airing your anger now. It will make this easier in the long run.”

“Was my mother in on this all along?” “Yes. I wrote to her to get her words on your character. Sadly, she gave the view of a biased and loving mother. So, convinced I would see your personality for myself in other ways by being your maid, she suggested I take Tatianna’s place for a few weeks. I can see you have a good rapport with her, so I can see why she would think that.”

Loki felt his anger rise at his mother’s involvement. “My brother, my father?”

“For the Allfather to know anything, he would have had to have come to your rooms whilst I was here, he never did, ergo, he never knew anything of it. Thor was not part of the plan. What I had not anticipated was that he recalled the few occasions that he met me in passing while talking to my brothers over the centuries, especially in Vanaheim. He confronted me, wanting to know why I was playing such games. He did not agree with it but the Allmother and I convinced him to remain silent.”

Loki’s lip curled in anger at his brother knowing such things but also knowing that he had the excuse of being told to say nothing. Not that it would save him from a few choice words and more than a few spells and hard blows when Loki would be able to inflict such on him again. “You spied on me, and you thought it wise?” He scoffed in disgust. “How did you envisage this little reveal going? Pray, do tell.” “I suppose it’s obvious that I had not thought through that fully. I was hoping the Aesir I was meeting was actually a nice being so I would at least feel guilty.”

Loki’s brow rose at that. “You have the audacity to say such things with all your deceit.”

“You literally are nicknamed the God of Lies, tricks and mischief, I would have thought you would have been impressed if nothing else.” “I am anything but.” He became irate at her answers. “You have no right to speak to me like this, you deceitful wench.” He walked to the bedroom door and opened it. “Get out.”

Raven felt hurt but understood fully and had expected him to react in such a manner, sighing, she walked to the door. “Well, it’s done now anyway.”

“What?” Loki had no inkling as to what she was referring to. “Getting this conflict out of the way. I was getting bothered waiting for it.” She spoke as she walked through the door.

“You anticipated this, really?” He did not believe her.

“I anticipated this, at best. I thought you would fly into a rage and throw me out at worst but then again, I thought you had not arrived for lunch because you had realised who I was and were giving me the very much expected silent treatment. Something I would wager all the ore on Alfheim I am going to be receiving from this point forth. I did not think it would last this long.” “What would last this long?” “This conversation. It lasted far longer than I had expected.” She shrugged as she walked to the door.

“Did you really learn to be a maid for this?” “I hardly knew how to be one before. I had to at least pretend to know what I was doing.” “You were so desperate to try and make a fool of me?” “It was never about making a fool of you, Loki. I told you, I wanted to know what to expect here. I tried to find out by other means but to no avail. Unlike you, I had to move to another realm and live with a man I had not met in almost seven hundred years outside of the briefest of moments.” “So you thought the way to get to know me was to scrub my toilet, that is your thinking of me? That is what you considered in getting to know me? I honestly expected you to have little self-respect with how you were raised, what with it being a misogynistic realm but you really do not have any self-worth with how you acted.” He walked over to the main door of his rooms to open it.

“Well, when your muscles ached and you wanted them relieved and when I neatened your belongings, you did not complain and don’t you ever look down at those who clean your toilet. You would not last five minutes in the real realm without your seidr, you pretentious prick.”

Irate at her venomous words, Loki walked forward towards her but stopped suddenly when she flinched as though expecting to be struck. As much as he wanted to say something as vitriolic back, he refrained. “Your little stunt was nothing more than pathetic and ridiculous and your name calling even more so, but it clearly was futile because if your observations were even the slightest bit accurate, you would know I would never lay a hand on you.”

“I knew that. If anyone will bear any physical brunt of this, it will be Thor.”

Loki had to admit, she did learn something in all of this with that comment. “Yet, you flinched as though expecting me to strike you?” “I am not a warrior, I have not learnt how to not flinch when someone rushes forward. But I know you would not. If you had been a risk to me, I would never have come here alone.” She ensured to look him in the eye as she spoke to show her sincerity.

Loki had to admit, that was a valid excuse and indeed statement regarding her safety. “Good, at least you grasped that much in this.” He opened the door fully and indicated outside.

“I guess the deceitful wench will leave the pretentious prick to his day, then.” She walked towards the door.

“Norns but you have to have the last word, don’t you?” Loki pushed the door shut again with some force. “You’re supposed to be silent.” “You literally said one of the things you were looking forward to least about being married to me was that you loathed the idea of a subservient and silent wife. My father should have had someone warn you, I tend to be too sarcastic for my own good, always have been, but you noticed that already too.” “If I had only known.” Sarcasm dripped heavily from every syllable he spoke. He looked at her for another moment. “How could you possibly have thought that we could even attempt to build anything on this?” “You never wanted to build anything, you spoke terribly of me the whole time I was here. You would not even use my name.” “What is with you and that particular issue? Why does it matter so greatly to you?” Loki snapped. “You are like a dog with a bone.”

“What is your obsession with not using it? You have nothing but contempt for me, both in your actions and your words, and have done so before you even realised it was me and do not think for one second I have forgotten your horrid words to your little friend about me, much less my realms’ people. Whatever damage I have done to the idea of creating a cordial relationship, you clean blasted it off the realm long before.” “I already told you, I do not think such, I was just venting.” “I told you in that very same conversation that I do not suffer fools. And if you think me to believe that statement, you are calling me one also.” “I bear no ill thoughts to the Ljósáfar. I would not have my seidr be so strong but for the ability to wield it perfected on Alfheim. I have nothing but respect for the race, you as an individual, on the other hand, not so much since you decided to try and trick me.” “There was no try, I succeeded in doing so.” There was some smugness to Raven’s smirk.

Loki’s lip curled in anger at that statement.

“I recall that day too that you wished to show me that you have no ill against my race, yet my parents and brothers did not deserve the respect required to welcome them, did they?” She shook her head. “You don’t respect us, you respect no one, not even yourself.” This time, she walked to the door and opened it, not wanting to speak to him any further.

“What comes of this?” Loki asked, not wanting to acknowledge her fairly accurate analysis.

“I do not know. You were adamant before, I am nothing but a duty. As a prince, you will be forced to do such duty. Our parents will not forfeit this agreement. My parents because it ensures I am no longer a burden, yours because, as you so crassly put it before, it solidifies my father’s alliance. So I guess we simply avoid one another outside of required interactions. I will not bother you, and you will ignore me. When this farce is done, I will stay in my rooms, you in yours and since I know Thor is being forced to court soon, we do some form of ritual dance that he has as many children as my father and we will not be required to do such things and you can have your conceited little harpy mistress and be happy.”

Loki was going to spit a comment back at her about the woman in reference but he noticed the genuine hurt and heartache in her features that startled him to silence on that matter. He quickly analysed her words again while she seemingly attempted to recompose herself. He did not know what in her statement caused her to react in such a way but it did startle him. “I am still trying to fathom the reasoning for all of this.”

“I wanted to know the true Loki, the one not putting on a facade for his father, or society, the being I would see every single evening after a long day.” “For what purpose?” “I spent my whole life having to be silent in public and mostly silent in private. I spent it being told how to act and who to speak to and how to speak to them. I wanted to know if I had to do that for the next few thousand years again or if it would be different. That is why I did it. I wanted to know if I could finally have someone to actually care for me as a being and not expect me to be what they want me to be, nothing more than a living doll. Norns, but you are right, had I but known.” And with that, she left the room.

#Loki #others #submission #Submitted fic #Hiding In Plain Sight #chapter 10 #wolfpawn

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olivonie · 3 years

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biggest fan ; atsumu miya

(1) "maybe he's my laptop wallpaper"

synopsis ; you are the youngest bokuto, and the biggest atsumu miya fan in all history (self proclaimed) so just your luck that a threat from your older brother to go to his game ends in you meeting your celebrity crush, and trying to not freak out, but oh what chaos ensues...

perfumers guide ; is the best friend literally just me inserting into my OWN FANFIC?? W A BOKUTO LOVE STORY? yeah fuck off let me have what i want its my fanfic motherfucker,, u, our beautiful mc, are a fangirl/boy/them/idc,, also i referred to ur friend as ur friend the whole fic, might give them an alias later on but idk for now,, tysm to my loves @scouts-ahoy and my bestie indigo for betaing for me <3 ily guys sm <3

perfume ingredients ; light cursing, rlly funny friend, fanperson-ing???, idk tw atsumu miya/j, bokuto being a butthead brother, gn reader (hopefully it comes across as such), omi being a bad friend/j,, cheesy corny romance movie esc love story <33,, written like a wattpad fanfic so sucks for u

word count ; 1388 words

“I can’t believe he blackmailed me like that!” You cried out, standing outside the building of the volleyball game you were attending.

“Don’t pretend you weren’t gonna show up anyways. Besides, he got us front row seats! Isn’t that awesome!” Your friend of many years squealed, adjusting his shirt before turning to you with a smirk, “Plus~ after, we’re going to dinner with your future boyfriend~” They teased, and you squeaked, chasing after them as they laughed. You both got in line and entered the building, packed full of people as you talked while walking to your seats according to your tickets.

A week prior your brother, Kotaro, had burst into your room in the apartment you shared, jumping on the bed and shoving two tickets to his next game. You had said you would buy your own tickets, since you wanted to be independent and were sick of relying on "big bro ko ko" but he interrupted you, threatening that if you didn’t take them he would tell Atsumu, his teammate, about your “big fat enormous super fan googly disgusting mushy gushy crush” on him and so you begrudgingly took the tickets. You decided to go with your friend, who was more excited to see your brother than the actual game.

“I can't believe you’re a brother banger…” You murmured. Your friend turned to you, a look of mock betrayal on their face.

“Honey Boo Bear! You dare think I’d cheat on you my beloved snookums?!” They said overdramatically and very loudly. You giggled, playing along with their antics with a smile.

“Pumpkin wumpkin! I can see you have feelings for another who is not me!”

“No! My cuddle wuddle baby poo I would never!-” They said, cut off by your laughter, followed by their own. Of course, even if you were pissed at Ko for blackmailing you into going, you couldn’t deny your excitement to see the Atsumu Miya, who had been the apple of your eye since you first saw him play with your brother. You had created a fan twitter for him for christs sake! That fucking enamored. But, even if he was on the same team with Kotaro, you had never met him face to face.

You had dazed off and couldn’t see nor hear your friend, before they had shaken you back into consciousness.

“Oi! The game is about to start, dumbass!” They said, and you turned to look, seeing both teams enter the court. Your friend screamed and chanted when they saw Kotaro, who waved at the both of you with energy filled motions. And then, as if in slow motion, entered the “love of your life.”

He was like a renaissance statue, carved from the finest marble and shaped into this beauty. His eyes were filled with life as he waved to all his fans, and when he swept his gaze over to where you were standing, it felt as if time stopped. It was like that scene from every cheesy romcom movie where the main character’s heart pounded erratically, and just like in a movie, the breath from your lungs was stolen away. Were you in heaven? This is totally heaven right?

His eyes. Oh, his eyes. Like molten gold, the sun's reflection on a lake. Like the sweetest caramel, that you could practically taste on your tongue. Atsumu seemed frozen as well, before Shoyo came over and shook him awake, turning to the court with a single glance back at you.

“Oh my god I think I might die.” You said, practically falling into your companions arms, who raised a brow at you.

“Are you okay? What happened?” They asked, a concerned expression on their face.

“Did you not see?!?! We made eye contact!! For like! A minute! And now I’ve fallen in love with him and I want his children!” You screamed, and they clasped a hand over your mouth quickly.

“One, crowded area, don’t say that shit out loud. Two, what’s the big deal? Weren’t you already in love with him?” They said, tilting their head to the side to look at you.

“Yes but like we’d never made eye contact! And I’m like! His biggest fan!” You squeaked, your voice cracking as you cleared it, looking desperately at your friend.

“How big?” They asked, and you gave an exasperated sigh.

“Maybe he’s my laptop wallpaper..” You murmured, twiddling your hands together. “Laptop wallpaper” had been an inside joke between you two to measure the depth of your obsession. Laptop wallpaper being the biggest, and twitter profile picture being the lowest.

“Oh my god big big…” They whispered, and you two continued to talk over your dilemma as the game went on.

As the game came to an end, with another victory for the Jackals, the two of you ran down the steps with special access passes, also gifted to you by Kotaro, and ran to congratulate the team. There was a sappy moment where your friend jumped into Kotaro’s arms rambling about how amazing he was, as he walked over to you and raised his hand for a high five, which you begrudgingly gave.

“You suck, butthead.” You said with a smile, and he grinned at you, as you walked off to a brooding black haired man, who was staring off in another dimension before you called his name, “Hey Omi! You did great!” You cheered, and he turned to you with a semi-smile.

“Thanks little Bokuto.” He said, and you rolled your eyes.

“The least you could do is say my name!” “I think little Bokuto works just fine.”

“Omiiii! That is so cruel and mean! I am going to report you on Stop It!” You said, and he laughed. Kiyoomi has been your friend since high school. You didn’t like the idea of being overshadowed by your brother, so you chose a school where no one would recognize you as his sibling, and bumped into Kiyoomi. Literally. And decided to stick around the brooding loner who preferred to eat lunch on the rooftop away from the hordes of people.

“So, did you totally fitz out when Miya came on court?” He said with a knowing smirk, causing your face to heat up as you cried out in protest.

“I did not!”

“They totally did.” Shoyo interrupted, and you spun around to throw a fake punch at him. He dodged with ease and stuck his tongue out at you, and you did the same.

“Shut up!” You yelled, groaning when the two laughed at you, “I’m gonna wait outside for you guys! And Omi! You smell horrible!” You cried, grinning in triumph at his annoyed face, looking at himself covered in sweat and sighing.

You walked out of the gym, waiting outside the doors as you said you would, opting to scroll through your phone idly.

“Yer Bokuto’s sibling right?” A light voice asked by your ear, which caused you to jump and throw a punch out of instinct. A groan and head of blonde hair that you’d seen hundreds of times in twitter edits and your dreams made you gasp. “You sure know how to throw a punch huh? Yowch,” Atsumu grunted, holding his stomach as you panicked and apologized, to which he laughed, “It’s okay! I didn’t give no warnin’ so I scared ya! I get it!” He said, and you blushed profusely.

You just punched your celebrity crush in the stomach, there goes your dreams of a fanfiction type first meeting. You sighed, putting your hand out to shake his as you introduced yourself.

“I’m Atsumu Miya.” “Well obviously.” You said and then gasped at how rude that must’ve sounded. You were about to apologize again until he laughed. He looked at you with those eyes again.

“Yer real funny! I hope yer goin’ to dinner with us, it’d be totally boring without ya.” He said, and you nodded.

“Of course, I promised my brother.” You said, and he did a small fist bump, before pausing and taking out his phone, passing it to you.

“Put yer number in there, pretty please.” He said, and you nodded, typing your phone number and name. He smiled when you handed his phone back, checking the time before whispering curses, “Fuck, I still gotta change, but I’ll see ya at the dinner kay? See ya round pretty!” He called and you waved goodbye blushing at the compliment and chuckling before the realization set in.

“OH MY GOD I JUST GAVE MIYA ATSUMU MY NUMBER HOLY FUCK”

extra;;

"you are so loud..."

"shut up ko you're fat."

olivonie 2021

reblogs are welcome !! pls !!!!

#olivonie ;;#biggest fan ;;#atsumu miya ;;#haikyuu ;;#I AM SO TIRED THIS TOOK...FOREVER???? FOR WHAT???????#guys pls reblog like i beg u #i will kiss ur feet #also atsumu #help the yer brought me pjhysical pain....#why is he like this.......#ALSO IM SRRY FOR TERRIBLE CHARACTERIZATION I SUCK </333

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wolfpawn · 3 years

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Hiding in Plain Sight, Chapter 10

Story Summary - Imagine coming from a line of nobility or royalty and being in an arranged marriage with Loki in an attempt to strengthen your kingdom/alliance with Asgard. You’re not entirely on board with the idea but figured that the best you could do was to get to know your fiancé. You form an agreement with Frigga for you to pose as Loki’s personal servant for a few months so you can get to know who Loki really is – beyond the veil of his responsibility to the Asgardian throne, behind all the masks he wears when facing the public, to really know who Loki is behind closed doors as you slowly fall for each other. How long will you keep up the ruse with the God of Lies?

Chapter Summary - The conflict.

Previous Chapter

Tags - @peppermint-j @alexakeyloveloki @cateyes315 @laserpente @bravotheroyalfool @teylacarter91 @heavenly1927

Raven gave him a withering look. “Again with the ‘she’ and ‘her’. You are going out of your way to be insulting at this stage.” “But you are Raven? Not ‘Breanna’?” Loki demanded.

“My grandmother called me Breanna. It’s one and the same.” She dismissed.

“You hid yourself as a maid?”

“In fairness, whatever else was ever said about you, your hygiene is impeccable.”

“Why?” “I told you.” “But why?”

“I think your father would rather a republic than have you on the throne.” Loki pointed out, his tone half of anger, half merely stating fact.

Loki felt his anger rise at his mother’s involvement. “My brother, my father?”

Loki’s brow rose at that. “You have the audacity to say such things with all your deceit.”

Raven felt hurt but understood fully and had expected him to react in such a manner, sighing, she walked to the door. “Well, it’s done now anyway.”

“What?” Loki had no inkling as to what she was referring to. “Getting this conflict out of the way. I was getting bothered waiting for it.” She spoke as she walked through the door.

“You anticipated this, really?” He did not believe her.

“I knew that. If anyone will bear any physical brunt of this, it will be Thor.”

Loki had to admit, that was a valid excuse and indeed statement regarding her safety. “Good, at least you grasped that much in this.” He opened the door fully and indicated outside.

“I guess the deceitful wench will leave the pretentious prick to his day, then.” She walked towards the door.

Loki’s lip curled in anger at that statement.

“What comes of this?” Loki asked, not wanting to acknowledge her fairly accurate analysis.

#hiding in plain sight #Chapter 10 #wolfpawn #loki fic

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secret-diary-of-an-fa · 3 years

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God of War (PS4) Review: Kratos’ Postal Grief Beard Versus Norse Mythology

Once upon a time, a man was born by the name of Cory Barlog and thus a coin was flipped. Would he become a videogame developer or would he take up guarding the Mines of Moria by pulling wizards into a precipice? Those really are the only two options with a name like Barlog. Anyway, apparently the Mines of Moria were a bit of a commute, so the world gained a talented Auteur developer with a unique vision for a game series about going postal in ancient Greece. Fast-foward a number of years specifically calculated to make you feel old and ancient Greece is a distant memory. Norse mythology is where all the cool kids hang out nowadays, and that’s where we’re going in today’s review.

As you might have guessed, I’ve just finished playing God of War (PS4), which is fun to say because it rhymes. It’s a very good game that should be a very bad game. When considering modern media artefacts, I’m often prompted to ask the question ‘what went so wrong?’, but this may be the first time I’ve had to ask the question ‘what went so right?’.

Let me explain: God of War 4 (I don’t care that they don’t put the number on the box art, that’s what it fucking is) makes a single, monumentally stupid creative decision that should ruin the entire enterprise, but doesn’t. And that creative decision was- wait for it- a stab at maturity.

The last time we saw Kratos- the world’s angriest mythical being- he was finishing his battle with the Greek gods in God of War 3. There was a moment in that game which, to me, typified what was so great about the series. If I recall the sequence of events correctly, you kill your way through an ocean of expendable goons and critters who are just trying to defend their home on Mount Olympus, dripping with blood and screaming furiously, then wander into the bedroom of one of ancient Greece’s sauciest goddesses and play a sex minigame that you win by fucking her so well that her handmaids orgasm too. Then you toddle outside again and, head cleared, solve an incredibly complex and cerebral puzzle involving non-Euclidean geometry and perspective manipulation that takes bloody ages. That, in a nutshell, was the core identity of the original God of War: a gleefully unrestrained and immature approach to sex and violence coupled with a grouchy willingness to make unsuspecting players feel like fucking idiots for no reason whatsoever. It was awesome. In contrast, God of War 4 picks up many, many years later with Kratos hiding out in Midgard of the Norse mythos and, for once, he hasn’t got a nark on and he’s not trying to stick his cock in someone with cartoonishly huge knockers. He’s just sad because his missus has passed away, leaving him and their young, impressionable son alone in a big, scary world full of trolls and ginger psychopaths. ‘Sad’ isn’t a completely new emotion for Kratos, but, up until this point, he was usually sad in a way that resulted in five hundred people getting their spines broken in a very colourful manner. Now he just wants to cremate the remains of the woman he loved and carry her ashes to the tallest peak in the nine realms so he can scatter her in accordance with her final wishes. And that’s what he does, with son- Atreus- in tow. It’s a twenty-plus hour game in which the objective is very simply to honour someone’s preferred funeral rites- nothing more, nothing less. It’s very modest by Kratos usual standards. Remember that his stated goal in the previous game was to punch freakin’ Zeus so hard that his face would go all concave and then repeatedly stamp on his corpse.

We never actually find out much about what Kratos was up to between games or how he met his wife. However, he’s a bit thiccer than in previous instalments and seems to have lost the use of the ‘jump’ button outside of context-sensitive environments. On that evidence, I choose to believe he’s been running a small but successful family restaurant called ‘Kratos’ Potatoes’ and enjoying it all a bit much. And why not? He beat up Zeus- if he just wants to create and sample homely yet exotic Greco-Norse fusion cuisine while growing a ridiculous straggly dad-beard, I say let him crack on. Actually, is it a ‘dad beard’ or is it a ‘grief beard’? I think they send them to videogame characters in the post whenever a loved one dies so they can signal to the world how sad they are through the medium of angsty facial hair. But where was? Oh yeah: cracking on with it.

Y’see this is where the plot comes in: the Norse gods won’t let Kratos crack on. They’re determined to make him bow before Odin- especially Baldur, who is way too invested in having a fight with Kratos for reasons that won’t become apparent until very late in the game. They just keep turning up and trying to break Kratos and his increasingly like-him-but-not-as-good-at-it son Atreus. This time around, our heroes commit heinous acts of violence to defend themselves, not enact revenge, as they travel, inexorably, to the top of a lonely mountain through landscapes of stunning natural beauty and many, many hostile creatures.

Of course, Kratos taking his son on a hiking holiday with added troll-murder and the occasional slap-fight with Norse mythology’s biggest killjoys doesn’t sound as interesting as the original games. After all, those were basically a production of Kill Bill in which the part of Bill was played by a guy with the power to summon lightning bolts and access to a seemingly unstoppable army of monsters and demigods. The ‘fun factor’ even seems to have taken another downgrade, in that Kratos no longer operates with the entertainingly demented passion of the insane: he has been tempered by time and love and managed to turn himself into a paragon of serious self control. So why is God of War 4 so bloody good? Partly, I suspect, the answer lies in the constantly evolving relationship between Kratos and Atreus, which gives the story an unbelievable amount of heart and always manages to feel very organic. Kratos never learned how to be a parent, and we essentially watch him do it in real time, forming a bond with his son that seems impossible at the start of the game and inevitable by the end. Partly, the games greatness lies in the characters you meet along the way, who range from bickering dwarves to talking, decapitated heads who prattle on like laid-back tour-guides. Partly, it’s in the beautiful, epic landscapes that make the journey across the Realms to the highest peak feel epic and significant, even while it is small and personal.

But a videogame is nothing without gameplay, and it is here that God of War 4 really shines. I loved the original God of War trilogy (especially the third instalment), but I rarely felt like I was playing as, y’know, a god of war. Kratos might not be an uncontrollable whirlwind of fury any more, but he feels truly powerful for the first time in the ongoing series. In fights, every punch feels like it could crack stone; every axe-throw like it could rend the sky; every chain-whip like it could legitimately start a forest-fire. Out of combat, Kratos moves around the environment with the stolid grace of a man who knows his movements are inevitable; irresistible; an imposition on the environment that can’t be denied. You climb and complete elaborate, complex traversals knowing that the satisfaction you feel isn’t just the satisfaction of finding the correct route or solving an obstacle, but the satisfaction of a being forcing his way through a landscape that resists him at every turn but cannot stop him. The puzzles- of which there are many- strike the perfect balance between conceptual trickiness and ease of execution to remind you that Kratos is smart as well as determined; that his mind is as indomitable as his body. Then there are the little touches involving heaving huge stone pillars and similar unnecessarily over-the-top efforts. In short, the gameplay is interwoven with who Kratos is- with what he is in way that seems completely unprecedented. Even the RPG elements feel appropriate: they reflect the protagonist’s growing confidence in a skillet he hasn’t used in a long, long time.

Do I miss the uniquely juvenile, over the top identity of the old games? Absolutely: I’m a great fan of gratuitous gore and scantily clad women with big fuck-off swords. Usually, I find the desire for maturity in games to be a silly, pretentious trend that foolishly eschews anything obviously ‘fun’ for no reason other than courting the respect of people whose respect isn’t worth having. But I don’t think that’s what’s going on here- at least, not entirely. The developers of the God of War games are clearly artisans and craftsmen of extreme talent: their attention to detail is superb and their ability to weave a good tale from a simple premise is actually a little daunting for someone who considers himself a bloody good story-teller. It’s worth remembering that the de facto head of the studio, Barlog, became a father himself before commencing work on this game about a father learning to bond with his son. It feels personal and meant because it is. Other games might reach for superficially mature themes like family and redemption for altogether cynical reasons. God of War 4 does it because such thoughts are clearly much on the developer’s mind. I asked already ‘Do I miss the identity of the old games?’ and the answer is still yes. But that question deserves a follow-up: am I willing to embrace the identity of this new, quieter God of War anyway? And yes, yes I am.

But if we could have a few more women with enormous knockers and Kratos going properly batshit just once or twice in the next sequel, that would also be welcome. I mean, let’s try to strike a balance here, people, for pity’s sake.

#Secret Diary of a Fat Admirer #God of War #God of War 4 #god of war sequel #Kratos #Zeus #norse mythology #greek mythology #videogames #game review #games

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goldenhydreigon47 · 3 years

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Y'know, I'm bored. May as well talk about the OCs I have for Rebel Hearts.

Aight so context: Rebel Hearts is based on the Terraria Calamity mod and is set after the Supreme Calamitas fight (Henceforth, I shall refer to Calamitas as Cal, Catastrophe as Cat, and Devourer of Gods as Dev. Why? Because that's what they prefer to be called in the story) but before the Yharim fight. Why? Well, simple: The Yharim and Draedon fights aren't in the game yet.

Please note, the only characters original to Calamity mod involved in this story are Cal, Cat, Cataclysm (the youngest of the siblings of themself, Cal, and Cat. I'll make another post about these three and Dev since I like all four of them so much), Dev, Xeroc, Noxus, Ignalius, Providence, Yharim, Yharon, and Draedon. Everyone else is a fully original character. So, uh, yeah. Here we go!

First up is the main character: Mariko Yamamoto (he/him or they/them pronouns). He's half human and half demon and boyfriends with Cataclysm in the story. Mariko's in the Mage class but specializes particularly in ice magic. His father, who was a thief and murderer who also did quite atrocious things I don't feel comfortable mentioning on here, was killed in front of Mariko when he was only 5 years old. His mother, depressed at the loss of her husband, tragically took her own life a few weeks later. Mariko was trained in combat, education, and life skills by his brother, Kronus, until Mariko was 16. A few weeks later, Yharim came along, bringing a then brainwashed Dev and Cal with him, and demolished Mariko's entire hometown, his brother sacrificing himself to save his life. Mariko, determined to save people, guided everyone to the exits while warding off Cal, who was less aggressive seeing how noble and polite Mariko was. Afterwards, Mariko literally dies from exhaustion, but is revived by Xeroc, who mentioned that his brother's dying wish was to, "Keep Mariko safe," or something along those lines and gives Mariko temporary immortality. Three years and three hundred and sixty deaths later, he defeats Cal and her brothers, but spares their lives, knowing that they don't want to live under Yharim. Months later (and additional fifty deaths, one of which caused by a backstab from Mariko's ex-ally Necro. Also, Mariko is 20 by now), Mariko is kidnapped by Yharim and tortured, causing him to die ten more times. However, as he was chained up, Mariko saw remorse in Cal's eyes, and decided to free her himself since her brothers had escaped already. Three months later, he encounters an escaping Cal and Dev and togther, with Cal's brothers, they form an alliance to defeat Yharim, with others joining later on. Speaking of which...

Akira Tadashi (they/them) is the next major OC to join Mariko's alliance. They were a vigilante Rogue class after Yharim burned down their hometown with Yharon when Akira was 15. This, along with constant abuse from his father because of Akira's feminine looks, caused immense trauma and PTSD for Akira. As a vigilante, they sometimes encountered and helped Mariko, with Akira never saying their actual name to Mariko. Upon encountering Mariko, Cal, Cat, Cataclysm, and Dev, Mariko and Akira have a friendly duel to test each other's strength and, after Mariko wins, Akira quickly joins them in their quest to eliminate Yharim (they are 19 during the story).

Next is Josephine Joachim (she/her), or Jojo as she prefers. Raised in the village of Erupis, she is from a long line of Summoners and gained her Stardust Guardian, which she dubbed 「Guns and Roses」 (yes, this is the character most of the Jojo's Bizarre Adventure references are going to) after an encounter with Yharim when she was 14 (she's 18 in the story). Upon meeting Mariko and Cal, she offers to take the team to her hometown but tragedy strikes as her mother is killed in front of her by Draedon and his new assistant, Sunork (keep that name in mind when I give the villains analysis later this week 😉). As she watched her mother die in her arms, she realized her true purpose: Defeat Yharim and free those trembling in fear from his tyranny.

Also, Yhagrim (he/him). Labelled as the "Hermit of the Mountains," most details about him are unknown minus his age (he's 27). After being discovered by Mariko, Yhagrim explains that, in fact, he is the youngest of the sibling trio of himself, Ignalius, and Yharim (Yharim is also related to Mariko but we'll get to that in the villain info). Upon their village trying to kill Yharim for trying to obtain power with dirty deeds, Yharim goes mental and destroys the village, including killing Ignalius. When he saw his brother, Yhagrim noticed Yharim stole the dragon egg that he was given by his parents at age 13 (this egg hatches to become Yharon). Yharim then quickly takes over a majority of the world and banished Yhagrim, erasing his name from all records as well as any info about him. When asked if he wanted to join Mariko's squad, Yhagrim initially declines, but joins after hearing about some of what Yharim did to his subjects (trust me it isn't pretty. Btw, Yhagrim's Joining arc isn't complete yet but it goes DEEPLY in depth into Yharim's childhood and family life. This is just a summary). Being an expert at Melee class attacks, Yhagrim can dual wield two of the Melee's best weapons: Nanoblack Reaper and Triactis' True Paladinian Mage Hammer of Might, so don't cross him.

And finally for the main cast out of the OCs I made, Drakonis Tremaine (she/her or they/them). While this Ranger class hasn't joined Mariko's group yet, her arc is after Yhagrim's so its very soon (she even forms a love relationship with Jojo). However, I wanted to mention her here because, what the hell, I mentioned everyone else, may as well talk about her. She is notably the edgiest and angriest of the group (only getting slightly less edgy during the story might I add) and is very reckless. How this came to be? Well, as a child, she grew up around a very conservative community she didn't really care for, despite how rich her parents were. This hatred only grew as she slowly started to become more comfortable with saying she was trans feminine and lesbian. However, upon coming out to her parents, they screamed at her and abused her for several months because bastards. If that wasn't enough, because her parents were high standing citizens in her city, many of the other bigots living there harassed, bullied, and even attacked her with intent to kill. All she wanted was to be accepted and validated, which she would later gain upon meeting Mariko's group, but her idiotic community wouldn't give her the acceptance or validity she needed (this entire bigoted community thing is based on my experience as a bisexual in the highly conservative state of Kentucky. I am not okay. Send help). So, eventually, her bottled up sadness, pain, and rage erupted and she genocided everyone in her town. This temper and dark side of her was sought out by mega bastard Yharim. However, Drakonis now lived by the ideal of, "Trust nobody, not even yourself, unless your desperate," so she outright refused to join Yharim, shooting him in the arm and nearly killing him, but he escaped because of Draedon's teleportation device. Many years later (she's 18 by now), she encounters Mariko and Cal, who offer her a spot on the team. With an annoyed and sarcastic tone, she again refuses, but some midnight talks with Jojo while the group is in Erupis and another major event that takes place during Drakonis' arc force her hand causing her to join.

Main Character OC Infodump completed. Infodump on Cal, her brothers, and Dev is next, then an infodump on the villains.

Hope you enjoyed this and I'll post excerpts from the story (currently in Yhagrim's arc) soon to show what happens during each arc (which range from two to twenty five sections). : )

#terraria calamity #writing #original character

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revisionaryhistory · 3 years

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Three Days ~ 65

~*~Sebastian~*~

I turned back toward the others. Sam was looking at me, "You're hopeless."

I looked around, hoping she was looking at someone else, "What? Why?"

"Three weeks ago with the good luck kisses and Reese Cups you were ridiculous. This week... hopeless. You're a big soft squishy marshmallow of a boyfriend. I expected more."

I went for a confused look, "Do we know each other well enough for you to ride my ass like this?"

She smiled, "Apparently."

I held up a finger in Scott's direction before he could say anything. Everyone laughed.

We talked, laughed, and drank until the ref blew the whistle. Like earlier I was between Sam and Mallory. Sam leaned closer, "Too far?"

I knew she was referring to her teasing after Emma left. "Oh hell no, perfect." I sat back enough to include Mallory. "Thank you. I'm much more comfortable in front of five hundred people than in a small group. Expectations are different. You fucking with me lets new people know I’m just a guy here to watch his girlfriend play volleyball."

Sam looked at Mallory, "See, hopeless."

Mallory smiled, "Yeah, but cute as hell."

“Am I imagining the southern accent? It comes and goes.” I looked between the two of them and they indicated I wasn’t imagining. “Southern accents are trouble.” I shook my head, took a drink of my beer, and watched them win the first set.

Emma ran over, "Hungry. Would you order me something, please?"

I gave her a thumbs up and I had plates of appetizers ready when they got to the table. After losing. I slid off the stool, giving it to Emma, standing behind and to the side. I reached around her to eat while my other hand kept in contact with her. Touching her back. A slide across her shoulders. Anything for the contact. When Emma was finished eating, she leaned back, using me as a backrest. I leaned in and kissed her temple, my hidden hand on her hip.

I can't explain my want for contact. Before we met, before I saw her, before I heard her voice, I knew the feel of her touch. Her hand on my arm. Since that first touch, I've always wanted it. Maybe it's because touch was the first thing I knew. Like if the first thing you're attracted to is someone's smile you always remember the first one and want to see it again. I've never been touch hungry like this. I don't mind, kind of like it actually, and I'm not all in trying to overthink the why. It's just different. Hopefully, the relationship outcome will be different too.

Mallory's voice saying, "Barbie Bitches at ten o'clock," drew me out of my thoughts.

Emma said, "They're really not that bad."

Mallory snorted, "Yes, yes, they are."

There was a group of five heading our way. Three women and two men. I'm going to go ahead and guess the bleached blondes are the Barbie Bitches. There is a natural blonde in the group, so I could be wrong. The men were lagging a little behind. The one with short black hair had a full beard and the other had shoulder-length brown hair with a couple of days growth of beard. I don't feel jealous or insecure, but I am aware these are men she knows. Possessive. Protective. Proud. Definitely wanting to mark my territory, I guess her using me as a pillow does that. If she sits up I may have to kiss her. Tragic.

One of the guys recognized me first. He elbowed the other and nodded. I went on talking with Nick about the best flavors for chicken wings. I’m partial to teriyaki. Hot sauces aren't for me. I like flavor over burning the shit out of my mouth.

The five reached the table, hugs and handshakes for those nearby. Emma leaned forward and the hand I had on her hip magically moved to her shoulder when other eyes locked on me. Beside me, I heard Sam mumble, "Hopeless."

I looked at Sam and laughed, giving her a silent thank you. I realize someone in my line of work not liking to be the center of attention seems strange. Work and personal are different. Meeting her friends is personal, but the first minutes when they're recognizing work me is uncomfortable. I wish it wasn't. I don't like it.

Emma did the introductions, "This is my boyfriend Sebastian." I do like how she gives me a title. It feels like a diversion, setting an expectation. There's no question who I am. I'm not Sebastian with a dangling "the actor." I’m Sebastian "the boyfriend." That makes me uncomfortable too but in a much more fun way. She pointed as she gave names. "Justin, Caleb, Rose, Tammy, and Toni."

There was no way in hell Toni and Tammy weren't the Barbie Bitches. I was right about the hair too. I waved, "Hi, nice to meet you. Everybody work with Emma? Teachers?"

They told me what they taught. Toni and Tammy are English, Rose is Physics, Caleb is History, and Justin teaches programming and robotics. I looked at Rose, "I got a zero on my physics final." They laughed and I shrugged. "In my defense, of the eight seniors, the highest grade was a fifteen."

"You had a shitty teacher."

I widened my eyes and nodded in agreement, “Yeah, he gave us shit about the scores. I told him they said more about him than us. Finals were over, I didn't care."

Everyone started sharing stories from being a student or things students had done. Turned into a competition between the high school and elementary teachers for the most inappropriate comments and behaviors. High school was funny because they knew what they were doing, elementary because they didn't. I felt embarrassed for the mom who got the call her vibrator had made it to show and tell.

The game going on behind us was in the last set. Emma took off for the bathroom. When she came back, she went to the middle of the high school teachers, thanking them for coming. She was a good hostess.

Toni glanced at me before turning to Emma, "Are we really supposed to pretend he's not Sebastian Stan?"

Several things happened all at once. On one side of me, Samantha said, "Yes." On the other side, Mallory groaned. In front of me to the right, Tammy nodded her agreement with Toni. A little to the left, Emma said, "No."

Guess who I want to hear more from?

"You don't have to pretend you don't know who he is. But first and foremost, he's a person, so we're not going to talk about him like he's not right there." Emma looked at me with a smile. I was uncomfortable again. However, her protectiveness is hot.

Tami grimaced, "Sorry."

Emma hugged her to soothe the rebuke, "He scrambles my brain sometimes too."

I want to scramble more than her brains right now.

Tami looked at me as Emma headed around the table. "I'm sorry, Sebastian."

I waved away the apology, "You can ask me anything you want about work when they're warming up. The rest of the time I'm here to watch my girlfriend play."

It was Justin who did the fist pump, "Yes!"

I laughed.

Caleb faked a cough, "Fanboy."

"And not ashamed."

I had a fan. Sweet.

I'd taken Emma's seat when she left. When I started to get up she shook her head. She stood right up on me, laying her hand on my thigh. I lifted my arm over her, my hand landing on her ass, and my fingers going under the leg of her shorts to run my fingertips along the curve of her ass. My other hand, which was already under the table, moved her hand from my thigh to my crotch. I never stopped talking with Dawn. Beside me, Sam turned her back to me and leaned against the table, blocking anyone else from seeing. She’s definitely my favorite.

I was torn when the other game was over. I would miss our under the table fun, but the sooner the game was over the sooner we could go home.

Jeff walked around the table, heading toward the court. He pointed at me, "Your last good luck kiss sucked. Do better."

I jumped off the stool, grabbed Emma, dipped her low, and kissed her slow and deep. It felt very good. Reluctantly, I set her back on her feet. I looked at Jeff with my eyebrows raised.

Jeff grabbed Emma's arm and pulled her toward the court. "Much better. Thank you."

I turned back to the table to find all eyes on me. I shrugged with my hands up, "Taking one for the team." I took my spot back on the stool.

Justin leaned onto the table, "I have questions about stunts and drone shots." That conversation went on for a while. I could talk all day about that shit because it’s not directly me.

Toni wanted to know about Evans. Nia asked about gossip sites.

"I don't go there. Anybody can pretend to know anything and people will believe it if they want to. Even random guesses are going to be right sometimes. A friend had something real show up. It's best to ignore it. It'll go away with the next scandal. A lawsuit confirms and calls more attention." I could tell Rose had a question, "Go ahead."

She smiled, "Fanfiction."

I returned the smile, "What about it?"

"Love it? Hate it? Any favorites?"

I finished the last of my beer, considering how honest to be. I went all in. "I'm human. I got curious. For about a week. It doesn’t bother me. If a character I brought to life feeds someone's creativity I’m flattered. There are good stories and good writers out there. One of those could write a script, hell, for all we know someone who won an Oscar used to write fanfic."

"Real person stuff?"

I bobbed my head back and forth while looking at Dawn. "Still fiction and no more me than Bucky is. The imagination and amount of time spent on me is still flattering. All that's a step away. Now, the thirst tweets. Those are the things I wonder if people realize I see that. Fanfic is about an imagined version of me. Tweets and comments on Instagram are directed to me."

Caleb jumped in, "I bet you get the same things live at photo ops and shit though."

I nodded, "Some people lack boundaries."

Cindy said, "You looked uncomfortable reading those thirst tweets."

"Sort of." I laughed, "I wasn't embarrassed by content, just reading them out loud."

There were a few more questions before the whistle blew for the start of the game. I said, "Boyfriend time" and turned around.

It was another nail biter of a game. They lost the second set. All of us were screaming and clapping. It was a lot of fun. I liked this, being the spectator while hanging with her friends. I’ve always liked going to things and being the support person for friends. Fuck knows I’ve asked that from them enough. What I didn’t like was that this place didn't have Reese cups and the deck was too high for a between set kiss. Piece of shit dive bar.

They won the final set with a rejected spike by Becky and Nick. The team jumped in the air and hugged. So did Sam, Mallory, Scott, and I. I moved out of the middle to get to her first. In my head, I could hear Sam calling me hopeless.

I walked toward the opening to the court and met them, handing out words of praise. Emma stepped onto the deck and crossed the short distance into my arms. I kissed her head, "You did good."

"Thank you." She left my arms, kissed me, and took my hand. "It was a fun game. And I didn’t hurt myself."

We headed back to the table talking about plays and laughing. Emma sat down and pulled a beer from the bucket. I leaned my elbows on the counter behind me between Emma and Mallory, stretching out my back to reverse the hunching over during the game. I watched her profile as she talked with her friends. I could stand here looking at her all night. It didn't take long before I saw her energy drain away. Her smile shrank and her eyes lost their sparkle. I stood up, tucked a piece of hair that had escaped her ponytail, behind her ear, and waited until she turned her head like I knew she would. "You're tired." Not a question. She nodded. I turned to Mallory, "You ready?"

"Anytime."

I put Emma's bag on my shoulder. Emma stood up, "We're heading out."

Several other people said they were too. It wasn't late, but it was a weeknight.

I waited while they hugged their goodbyes. Mallory was back to me first. I slung my arm around her shoulder, "She's like a hostess saying good night to her guests."

Emma heard me and smiled. She joined us and I put my arm around her too. "Nice to meet everybody. I’m sure we'll do this again. Have a good night."

The three of us walked around the building to the CRV. I put in the code, opening the passenger and rear door, closing it behind them. I could see Mallory put a hand on Emma's arm and while I could tell they were talking I couldn't hear them. I walked a little slower around to the driver's side.

They didn't stop when I got in. Mallory was telling Emma about the questions during warm-up. When I turned to back out, Emma looked at me, "I'm sorry you were uncomfortable."

I smiled, "It was fine."

Emma's hand went to the back of neck, "I don't like you being uncomfortable. My friends making you feel that way."

"I don't enjoy it either, but it's part of being with you. You get my fans and a lot of other bullshit. I get your friends. I got less uncomfortable as they got used to me." I took her hand from my neck, kissing it before laying our joined hands on my leg. "I did like you going protective. You handled it well."

Emma barked a short laugh, "I wasn't ok with them objectifying you."

Mallory added, "I call them Barbie Bitches for a reason."

I laughed, “I’ve survived worse.” Emma leaned over and kissed my cheek. “See, all worth it.”

“Emma, you know they’ve sent out shit. Your room is going to be Grand Central tomorrow.”

Emma sighed. I thought to say something but wanted to hear from her first. I wasn’t surprised by her response. “You can stay at home if you want.”

“Without you?”

“Yeah, I have to get packed up but you don’t have to go.”

“Nope.” It was never an option. “What sort of an asshole would I be if I’m not willing to deal with your co-workers dropping by your classroom. I promise you what you’re going to have to deal with will be much worse.”

“I get that, but to be fair, there’s not been much fall out from your fans.”

From the back seat I heard, “There will be. Probably is, but you don’t have an online presence to know.”

I nodded backward, “What she said.”

“I don’t know how your fans react to girlfriends, but I was a huge One Direction fan. Fans were brutal to their girlfriends. One released a cookbook and they left shitty reviews bringing her rating down on Amazon. Death threats to one if they broke his heart. They went all the way back in their social media and dug up shit. Hopefully, your fans are older.”

“Not always.” I guess this is when we’re going to talk about this. Maybe having a friend who’d been a fan would be helpful. “I won’t say fans cause breakups, but they don’t help. It’s complicated. There’s more nice than ugly, but a lot of time the ugly is really ugly. Like you said, trashing her career, her cookbook because of who she’s dating. Girlfriends don’t always react well. Friends don’t always react well. The men, me, don’t always react well. I’m good at hiding when I don’t want to be seen, but I don’t understand people who can hide whole relationships for years. Hell, we’ve already been spotted having lunch. Two weeks in. I don’t know what the right answer is, because I haven’t found it.”

Emma jumped in, "On the plane home I went looking around. There is a blog with all your relationships. Chronologically."

I'm sure I looked horrified. Because I was. "I don't want to know that. I don't want you to know that."

Emma grimaced and shook her head. "I didn't read any relationship stuff. I'd have to give you my high school and college diaries to equalize the invasiveness." She faked a shudder and Mallory laughed. Emma continued, "I was looking for fan reaction. There were links to Instagram posts, Twitter threads, and other blog posts. They have lots of opinions."

"Yeah, I know."

"You can't win." She pointed at herself, "Neither can I."

She’s not telling me anything I don’t already know. "And you're still here. Are you crazy?" This was a legitimate question.

Emma reached over to play in my hair again, "Only about you. I'm going to focus on what I can do something about. You and I. I'm too curious to not look, and I can't promise it won't get to me, but at the end of the day I get you." She leaned across the console and I met her for a kiss. "Also going to keep my shit on private."

Mallory spoke again, “I know it’s totally none of my business.”

I interjected, “Wouldn’t be discussing in front of you if we weren’t ok with your opinion. Sometimes outside opinions see things better. Especially if you watched a fan meltdown before. Thank fuck I’m not in One Direction.”

“Can you sing?”

“Not in a way anyone wants to pay to hear. Maybe a charity karaoke or something.” I liked injecting laughter into a not funny conversation. I worried about this. I worried about Emma get drug through shit.

“I think you have to find a balance. You can’t do something because of fans, but you can’t avoid things either. Fans don’t react well to being kept in the dark, but they are quick to be pissed by baiting or what they think is rubbing their face in something.” She put her hand on her chest, “For me, and remember I was seventeen, I didn’t care about casual dates or whatever, but if it was serious and they were being spotted everywhere it was different. Then it becomes fans creating their own stories if they don’t have the real thing. Some fans got pissed when they could see what was going on, but being told nothing was going on. Felt like they were being lied to or treated like crazy fans. Again, with balance. How much are you ok with revealing versus how much fiction is tolerable. Emma’s right. You can’t win.”

I waited until we got to a stoplight and turned to look at Mallory, “Now, you’ve given me things to think about.”

Mallory shrugged, “I think you play to the sane stable fans. The others are going to create chaos no matter what.”

“Ummm.” I was full of thoughts.

Emma chuckled, “Will you be filling me in on these thoughts.”

“When I’m done overthinking and sorting through them.”

They went back to talking and I tried to leave all the thoughts behind. They needed to simmer. I’d look at them later. When we reached Mallory’s place I jumped out and ran around to the other side of the car. I pulled Mallory into a hug. Initially, she tensed and I was afraid I’d entered unwanted affection territory, but she quickly relaxed and hugged me back. I’d just surprised her. “Thank you for everything. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Emma was smirking when I got back in, “What?”

“I think you get comfortable with people before they’ve totally adapted to you.”

I knew what she meant. “I hug too quick.”

“No, no, no. Not too quick. It’s just fun to watch the reaction because getting used to talking to you is very different than being in your arms. You up close is better looking than you a few feet away. Your blue eyes. And your arms and chest feel . . . mmm.” She shimmied in the seat, “So good.”

“That may be just you.”

She started laughing. Hard. “I don’t think you believe that.”

She was right. I started laughing with her, “I do know I can cause a reaction. Not gonna lie, it’s fun.”

“I can’t wait to see you with a group of fans..”

“It’s a mind fuck. Prepare to deflate my ego. I can get a little out of hand after events.”

“Really?”

I nodded, “Part of why I take friends with me when I can. Hours of screaming, crying, and shaking fans. Being told your gorgeous and they love you. The stories about what something I’ve done has meant to them. It’s all pretty heady shit.”

“Plus all the hugs and inappropriate comments from beautiful women.”

Well, I walked myself into this. Luckily, I could tell she was teasing me and not taking it seriously. “You know how visual I am.”

“You just bring all that pent-up sexual energy home to me and we’ll work it off.” She patted my thigh. “And if you’re getting too cocky we’ll go to a Pearl Jam concert and you can feel the love rolling off fifty thousand plus people all at once.”

Comparatively, I ain’t shit.

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #fanfiction #sebastian stan X ofc #marvel actor fanfiction

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neuxue · 4 years

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Wheel of Time liveblogging: Towers of Midnight prologue (part 1)

I’m back, with as much verbosity and discussion of identity as ever, this time featuring Lan and Perrin.

Loial gets the epigraph this time. Good for you, Loial. Live your dreams.

Prologue: Distinctions

Wait a second. Hold on. Is this… are we… am I being greeted, upon my return to this series after several months, by a Lan POV? Is this possible?

Mandarb’s hooves beat a familiar rhythm on broken ground as Lan Mandragoran rode toward his death.

Because of course. Of course we get Lan’s POV, for the first time in the series, when he is riding at last to his private war with the Blight, to avenge the country that died decades ago and whose death he has always seen as his own, only delayed. Of course we get his POV now, when he is riding to what he believes is, at last, his death.

This has always been his purpose. He is a sword, a weapon, an oath, a fallen nation. A weapon doesn’t get to have a voice. A dead nation doesn’t get to speak. A sword can’t tell its own story. Especially because, all that time, he was held back from this, which he has always seen as his purpose. His only purpose. He let himself be bonded all those years ago but he never really gave up that sense of… I was about to say identity, but it’s both identity and total lack thereof. Identity, but not as a person, not as someone with agency and a story to tell. Just a weapon, forged for a single purpose.

And so, riding to his death, this is the closest he comes in the main series to feeling alive. Now that he is fulfilling that purpose, now that he is following the one path he has always considered his own. This, here, this ride to his death, is his entire identity.

So yes. In that sense it is beautifully fitting that we open with his POV for the first time in the main series, now as it draws towards its end. Now that he is freed, such as it is, to at last meet what he believes is his end, and his beginning, and the task that defined his entire… well. ‘Life’ sounds rather ironic there, but it’s the best I can do.

Anyway, we’re one line in and I’ve already written several hundred words, so I guess even after a hiatus nothing’s changed.

Turns out the earth is apparently quite literally salted here. So that’s a good start.

He’d turned away from it twenty years ago, agreeing to follow Moiraine, but he’d always known he would return. This was what it meant to bear the name of his fathers, the sword on his hip, and the hadori on his head.

All three representative of something dead, something lost, something gone. Something he accepts as lost. He doesn’t ride to revive Malkier, he rides to bury it (though I’m sure he wouldn’t mind praising it along the way). His entire life and self have been defined by this, by death and the past. The wheel of time turns, and stories fade and must ultimately be left in order to find a future, but Lan, for all his wisdom in some areas, has never really understood that. Or, perhaps more accurately, never felt it could apply to him.

I think in some way he did understand it, in that he bound himself to Moiraine even when it meant leaving his burned past and his private war in order to fight for the future of the world, but even then, it was only… temporary. Ultimately, he accepts the past as having a hold on him, accepts the idea the has never had and never will have a future.

It is, in a way, a parallel to or slight variant on Rand, on a different scale. Rand struggled (at least I think it’s past tense at this point) for so long to figure out how to accept Lews Therin as a part of himself without the terror of being bound to his past life’s fate. And on top of that there’s his whole he belongs to the Pattern, and to history. Moiraine saw that as future history – something that is not yet but will be history, but is future from where we stand. But Rand – and Lan – end up with a slightly different view of that. Rand fights against the memory of a doomed past and relinquishes all sense of freedom or choice or agency (until he gets better), and Lan lets the past own him and define him and guide him and kill him, all without ever dreaming to have a life of his own.

Riding to his death didn’t pain him

And why should it? Defined by death as he is. If you never think of yourself as someone who gets to be a person and have a life, what fear would death hold? He was only ever a… placeholder? A delayed strike, a remnant, a part of something dead that just hasn’t got around to lying down and stopping yet.

But knowing she feared for him… that did hurt. Very badly.

There’s a slightly bitter part of me that can’t quite get over the disappointment that the first Lan POV we get in the main series isn’t written by Jordan. Because Jordan’s writing of Lan in New Spring was beautiful. Spare but surprisingly lovely, and yet all threaded through with the idea and mention and thought of death, not in a morbid or even grim way but just as a part of the lens through which the story is told… it was so perfectly suited to Lan, and this feels… less so. It’s not bad; it’s just. I feel like I have a sense of what it could be and it’s not quite that.

Then again we’re still only like two paragraphs in, Great Lord of the Dark Lia would you get on with it already.

He hadn’t seen another person in days.

Too soon for a self-isolation joke?

Oh look, the first of his army has arrived!

Because the Golden Crane flies for Tarmon Gai’don. Man, that scene.

This kid’s like ‘hi! I’m here! I brought things, and supplies, and I’m just so excited, and and and’ and Lan is like ‘okay but who the fuck are you’.

Come on, Wheel of Time, let Lan Mandragoran say ‘fuck’.

Bulen? That sounds familiar, and he looks familiar to Lan…he’s definitely from New Spring. He was the errand boy, wasn’t he? Well, three cheers for conservation of characters.

“But when word spread in the palace that the Golden Crane was raised, I knew what I had to do.”

Really, Bulen? Do you not remember what happened last time someone tried to raise the Golden Crane in Lan’s name? I mean I’m all for it and Nynaeve is certainly a long way from Edeyn and that scene of the Golden Crane flies for Tarmon Gai’don still gives me at least two-thirds of an emotion when I think about it, but you’d think the kid would have grown a sense of self-preservation after what went down twenty years ago. Then again, no one in this series has a sense of self-preservation, so why change that now?

El’Nynaeve! She gets her title! She once had to fight so hard for people to respect her as Wisdom, and then as Aes Sedai, and now people who have barely met her give her a royal title! Because she’s out there raising an army and a nation from its grave!

(Yeah, yeah, you could point out that she has to fight for all the titles she earns, while this is one given to her by virtue of her marriage to a man, but honestly I’m just going to enjoy hearing this random kid call her El’Nynaeve because he already thinks of her as his queen because she’s just that cool. And you can’t stop me.)

Well, if she could play games with the truth, then so could he. Lan had said he’d take anyone who wished to ride with him. This man was not mounted. Therefore, Lan could refuse him. A petty distinction, but twenty years with Aes Sedai had taught him a few things about how to watch one’s words.

I’m dying. Sure, the prose is Sanderson, but the sentiment it expresses? Is absolutely Lan. It’s a slightly more grown up and jaded version of New Spring Lan, and it’s pretty much exactly what I imagine Lan’s internal monologue throughout the entirety of The Eye of the World looking like. He and Moiraine are well-matched in that for all their extreme competence, and wisdom, and ability to set everything aside for the sake of the world… they are also capable of great pettiness coated in a fine veneer of dry humour and presented as Done With Your Shit.

Lan’s just like ‘nope, no cranes to see here, golden or paper or otherwise, just denial as far as the eye can see.’

Lan would not call anyone ‘son’. He has an epithet for everyone but that is not one of them.

“My father was Malkieri,” Bulen said from behind.

Lan continued on.

“He died when I was five,” Bulen called.

Yes, well, that’s something you have in common, give or take a few years.

Lan’s not here for anyone’s tragic backstory but his own.

Except Bulen, for all that he never learned self-preservation, apparently learned how to tug on the heartstrings.

“I would wear the hadori of my father,” Bulen called, voice growing louder. “But I have nobody to ask if I may.”

Damn it, this kid. Was that me or Lan speaking just now? We may never know.

Lan’s still trying to send him away, because Lan Mandragoran does not need to adopt any more wayward children who are only trying to find their way, and Bulen’s just trying every angle of attack he can possibly find and this kid sure has an arsenal.

“I hardly knew who you were, though I know you lost someone dear to you among us.”

Because if appealing to your tragic past doesn’t work, maybe appealing to his will. I have to admire Bulen’s determination to make a slightly nostalgic nuisance of himself until the Uncrowned King of Malkier finally gives him a sticker.

“I spent years cursing myself for not serving you better. I swore that I would stand with you someday.” He walked up beside Lan. “I ask you because I have no father. May I wear the hadori and fight at your side, al’Lan Mandragoran? My King?”

I’m fine. This is fine. Everything is fine and I do not feel emotions.

And Lan’s cursing Nynaeve for the oath she made him swear but what a conflict this must be for him: to be confronted with the life of his nation, when all he wants is to avenge its death. To have someone look to him not as a sword or a reminder of what is gone but as a father, a king, a leader, a symbol of something returning, something renewed.

It is, in a way, not entirely unlike his conflict in New Spring. Only he’s already learned to crush that hope before it even makes itself known, because it can only end in pain. And yet, it doesn’t stop finding him.

Nynaeve, when I next see you… But he would not see her again. He tried not to dwell upon that.

Don’t say that where Nynaeve can hear you. But really, I think I’ve said this before, but Lan is one of the characters whose survival I am most confident in, largely because of this. Because to let him die… sure, it wouldn’t really be surprising, and in a way it would fulfil the ending he wants, but it wouldn’t… move his story anywhere. Whereas to take a character so certain of and accepting of his death, someone who never believed he should even have a life at all, whose every waking moment has been in waiting of his end, the truly satisfying ending would be for him to get to live. Not just in the sense of surviving, but actually living.

Because again, it’s not unlike a part of Rand’s story, recently: the rediscovery of life. Of the purpose of it all. On Dragonmount he saw it two ways: once as meaningless, pointless, because victory just brings another battle and every lifetime is pain and he has no freedom and why not just end it. But then as another chance, the possibility of life and love and something better. And I think there’s an element of that threaded through the series as a whole. This idea that yes, things fade and die and are lost, and yes there is pain and duty and a Pattern woven, but in amidst all of that the point is to live. Not to just survive until you can die for the cause, but to actually live along the way. It’s that question of what are you fighting for, what is the purpose of all of this? Rand has, at last, found that. Lan… still needs to.

“We ride anonymously,” Lan said.

Sure. As anonymously as Rand riding into Tear, pretending gloves could hide his identity. Whatever you say, Lan.

“You tell nobody who I am.”

There’s a whole Thing here about erasing his own identity, which is almost ironic in that the fact that he has a POV at all is a way of showing him embracing that identity, except that the identity he is embracing is the denial of self to all intents and purposes in favour of a duty and a dead nation that defined him before he could ever define himself.

I mean. It’s just a throwaway line. But I’m me, and so it’s not.

***

Oh hello Perrin, what are you doing in a prologue? Shouldn’t you be off in a real chapter with all your friends? Run along now.

He seems to be at a forge, though, so that’s a good look.

Some people found the clang of metal against metal grating. Not Perrin. That sound was soothing.

I like this, because especially without the surrounding context it plays so well into one of the central dualities of Perrin’s character: that of the gentle, careful one who wants to build things and work a forge and know peace versus the side of him that is terrifying in battle and feels alive when fighting and runs with wolves. Metal on metal, in a forge or a battlefield.

Oh it’s a dream. That works too. Rand dreams of his sworn and fated enemy and sits with him by the fire as they both take a moment away from the tasks neither of them truly want but cannot relinquish, and Perrin dreams of a forge.

He was making something important.

A nation? A decision? A bed to replace the one he ‘lost’ in the bushes? Tell us, Perrin.

Understand the pieces, Perrin.

Ah, and there it is. Such a crucial task for the ta’veren whose power manifests largely in the forging of nations, in bringing people to him and together, in binding. But to do that, you have to know what you’re binding. Which requires not denying it, but I think perhaps Perrin has finally moved beyond that.

Hi Hopper. Want a belly rub?

What am I making? Perrin picked up the length of glowing iron with his tongs. The air warped around it.

Well that is the question, Perrin, is it not? Time to let yourself answer it. Time to move past instinct, or exceptional ability in emergencies that lapses into denial once they’re over. He’s so good in those situations, but he struggles with the times in between, the times when his thoughts catch up to him. And now… he needs to push past that, and be able to truly accept it all, to not just swing the hammer but to know what he’s making, to plan it, to be deliberate and purposeful – which is so much a part of him in some ways, but there are areas he avoids.

Hopper’s like okay okay but can we get our symbolism by chasing things or something fun? You humans and your hammers, I swear.

Master Luhhan would be ashamed to see such shoddy work. Perrin needed to discover what he was making soon

I mean, there’s really nothing for me to even add to that.

More hammering, but he’s angry now.

It should all be better now! But it isn’t. It seems worse somehow.

He continued pounding. He hated those rumours that the men in camp whispered about him.

There’s a pun here to be made about hammers and pounding and Berelain but I am an adult and therefore I shall refrain.

More to the point, though… he’s directing his anger at the rumours but I think it’s rather more about that first part. That things should be ‘better’ now, but they aren’t, and he still doesn’t know what he’s making. He was driven, focused (too driven, too focused) and he had a task and so he could pursue it with single-minded determination, but as soon as he completed it… he was back with his thoughts and a nation following him and a role he has partway accepted but still hasn’t quite come to terms with. He still doesn’t fully accept what he is, who he is, what he can do, what he will have to do.

And so he’s doing what he can, and trying to forge those bonds and face what’s coming but there’s a part of him still holding back, still uncertain of what that means, or still reluctant to face it.

It’s an interesting scene because the framing is so similar to Perrin at the forge in The Dragon Reborn, and yet the tone is so utterly different. That was meditative, deliberate, beautiful; Perrin in his element, creating something perhaps not beautiful but well-made, functional, perfectly suited to its purpose. That was Perrin as he saw himself then, when he knew who he was – or at least, who he wanted to be. This… the work is sloppy and Perrin doesn’t even know what he’s making (whereas then, he decided almost immediately but without urgency; it was just an ease and comfort in knowing what the metal would be) but he’s pressing ahead; this is his identity but he’s still forcing it, and so it all feels wrong.

Hopper’s like okay well why don’t you just, you know, not, and ah, we’re back to the wolf thing. Just because Rand has perhaps finally figured out how to balance the different aspects of himself doesn’t mean all the characters have.

Perrin wasn’t nearly as in control as he’d assumed. The wolf within him could still reign.

But, like with the forging, trying to force it isn’t really the answer. Accept, Perrin. Look at the pieces you actually have. Understand them. Understand the different parts of yourself, and take them as they are, and then you can forge them and fit them together. But you can’t do it by ignoring what they are and just trying to force them into what you think they should be. Especially if you don’t even have a clear idea of what that is.

Problems are not amusing, Young Bull, Hopper agreed. But you are climbing back and forth over the same wall.

At least it’s not that damn garden wall in Caemlyn.

But I like how directly this is acknowledged, first with Tam last book and now with Hopper, here. That Perrin keeps wavering over this same conflict, keeps taking two steps forward and one step back, keeps doubting himself and questioning himself and fearing this aspect of himself that he taps into at need but then runs from again.

I like it, as a way to play out a character arc in a way that isn’t just linear growth. Sure, it’s frustrating as all hell sometimes, but it feels real. Because sometimes we don’t Learn The Important Lesson and then move on with our lives never having to face that problem again. Sometimes you overcome your doubts or fear of something once, or find your way past an obstacle, only to find that when it comes up again, hey, turns out it’s still pretty difficult. Not everything is conquered the first time, or the second, or…

PERRIN DO NOT ASK HOW TO REVERSE YOUR WOLFPOWERS. EMBRACE THE WOLFPOWERS. YOU’VE ONLY GOT TWO BOOKS LEFT.

Ah, Perrin, so much self-doubt. But then, his timeline is a bit behind Rand’s, I believe, so he is rather due for a last moment of crisis before the storm breaks.

The quenching barrel is boiling and Perrin doesn’t know what he’s forging and all his movements are almost…clumsy. Rushed and uncareful and the exact opposite of the spare economy of motion from that first forging scene. Because he’s no longer moving with the comfort of surety in who he is and what he’s doing; he’s doubting himself and his task and his capacity and his purpose, unsure and afraid and trying to force some things and ignore others and it doesn’t work that way.

Oh, I like this.

The glow faded. The chunk was actually a small steel figurine in the shape of a tall, thin man with a sword tied to his back. Each line of the figure was detailed, the ruffles of the shirt, the leather bands on the hilt of the tiny sword. But the face was distorted, the mouth open in a twisted scream.

Aram, Perrin thought. His name was Aram.

That is excellent. And it reminds me so strongly, with the twisted scream and the naming, of that scene that absolutely ruins me in the Rhuidean sequence, where Lewin veils his face and the wind rises and he screams ‘I am Aiel’, as those who call themselves Aiel turn from him and name him lost.

And that Aram is forged from steel, from Perrin’s forge, because Perrin as he sees it made him what he became (took him from a life of peace to one of violence), and it’s a perfectly formed piece; it’s not like a misshapen lump of metal, but it’s still wrong. Not what it should be. Not what it should have been.

Why had he created such a thing?

Oh, Perrin.

What a question. Because of course he holds himself responsible. But… while he may have been a catalyst of sorts, this was Aram’s choice. But that doesn’t make it hurt less. A child of peace, who lost everything and came to Perrin for permission to learn the sword, to fight and kill, and who eventually lost even that and died for it. A follower of the Way of the Leaf, brought to a life and death of violence at Perrin’s side. Perrin, who for all he argued with the Tuatha’an about their pacifism still wished for a world in which it could be true, and, I think, wished a little bit that he could have known something like that for himself.

Aw, we left Malden, do we have to go back in the dreamscape?

Did Perrin really look that imposing?

Yes. Next question?

A squat fortress of a man

I am dying. What a phrase. Who needs a brick shithouse when you can have a squat fortress.

And he’s holding the axe again in his dream. He made that choice, but like so many other things, it still occasionally wavers. He is still not sure of who he is. That, he still hasn’t truly decided and accepted and understood, for all that he’s grasped pieces of it around the edges.

A horn or a hoof, Young Bull, does it matter which one you use to hunt? Hopper was sitting in the sunlit street beside him.

“Yes. It matters. It does to me.”

And yet you use them the same way.

I like this exchange because Hopper is right… but so is Perrin. Because perception is absolutely a part of it. Perception, and choices, and a… claiming, of sorts, of his identity. Yes, he uses the hammer to destroy, just as he uses the axe. But to him, the fact that the hammer can be used for another purpose matters. It makes a difference because he chooses to see it that way. Which is, in its way, just as important as Rand choosing to see his fate not as inevitability and despair but as another chance. The smallest shift in perception, looking at the same thing from a slightly different angle, and yet it makes all the difference in the world.

I just like things like that, where these ideas can be simultaneously so close together and so far apart. These infinitesimal distinctions that alter an entire worldview. One small shift and everything falls into place, even if from the outside you’d never understand that there was a difference.

When Perrin fought, he came close to becoming someone else. And that was dangerous.

But is it someone else? Or is this like Rand and Lews Therin, where he fought so hard to hold to the distinction, because he was too afraid of what it might mean to let Lews Therin be a part of him. Perrin is so afraid of what accepting the wolf aspect of his nature might mean, that he sees it as a different person. As someone else. As something he could lose himself to, rather than as something he needs to find within himself and embrace as part of who he is.

Ah, identity.

“Why are you making me dream this?”

Yeah, sorry Perrin, but no.

Though for some reason this reminds me of that dream Rand and Moridin shared and Moridin finally being like ‘okay so what are you doing here’ and Rand thinking Moridin had brought him into the dream and really, boys, do I need to get Egwene in here to teach the lot of you how to dream responsibly?

Except wait, no, Egwene dreams about Gawyn so she’s not responsible in that regard either. Damn.

Anyway.

So Perrin’s re-living Aram’s death in his dreams.

Perrin stepped back. He refused to fight the boy again.

The shadowy version of himself split off, leaving the real Perrin in his blacksmith’s clothing. The shadow exchanged blows with Aram.

Because Perrin is fighting himself: the blacksmith who wants peace, and the warrior who runs with wolves. But he doesn’t see how they can reconcile, how he could possibly be both.

Also everything about Aram’s story is still rather beautifully sad. A lonely branching of the Aiel’s ongoing story, an offshoot of the main Rhuidean sequence, truncated before it could go anywhere, lost with who knows how many others.

Right before Aram would have killed Perrin.

The horn, the hoof, or the tooth […] Does it matter? The dead are dead.

[…]

“I should have taken that fool sword from him the moment he picked it up. I should have sent him back to his family.”

Does not a cub deserve his fangs? Hopper asked, genuinely confused. Why would you pull them?

“It is a thing of men,” Perrin said.

Things of two-legs, of men. Always, it is a thing of men to you. What of things of wolves?

“I am not a wolf.”

This whole argument with Hopper is excellent because again, Hopper is right. But so is Perrin. And it’s so perfectly… it’s Perrin’s dream, and whether Hopper is actually there or not is almost irrelevant, because it’s essentially Perrin arguing with himself. At war between the two sides of his nature, and he goes around and around because until he accepts that he can be both, that he does not have to be defined as the man or the wolf, he won’t be able to find answers that make sense. Because it’s an argument where both sides are right, but he’s trying to pick only one. And so he can never win, never progress.

Perrin in his dream is literally forging figures of the people from the Two Rivers. Just like in reality he is forging them, binding them together, making them into what they must be to face the Last Battle with him. It’s not subtle, but it is rather lovely.

Though lines like this:

The figurine continued to glow, faintly reddish

Still give me flashbacks to last book, and Rand, and a certain ter’angreal of mass destruction.

But figurines like this wouldn’t be forged; they’d be cast. “What does it mean?”

Hey, at least you know enough of dreams to understand that Here There Be Symbolism, even if you don’t quite understand what of. We’ll call that a solid B+.

Hopper doesn’t think much of symbolism unless he can eat it. That’s fair.

Laughter in the distance? Moridin, are you fucking with people’s dreams again? Though he doesn’t seem like much of one for laughter these days.

Either way, dreamtime’s over. Good night, Perrin.

Next (ToM prologue pt. 2) Previous (TGS final thoughts)

#oh man it's good to be back #Wheel of Time #neuxue liveblogs WoT #Towers of Midnight

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justheretobreakthings · 4 years

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Kings Over Aces - Chapter 2

(Previous Chapter) (Next Chapter)

Word Count: 3,114 (Total Word Count: 6,290) Read on AO3

Story Summary:

The Voltron Coalition has an alliance in the works with the resource-rich planet of Yuipra, and it’s the paladins’ job to keep on the king’s good side while the deal is made. That shouldn’t shouldn’t be too great a challenge; after all, they’ve courted plenty of planets before for the sake of alliances.

Unfortunately, things are made much more complicated when the king takes a special interest in Keith.

Fic content warnings for attempted rape/non-con.

“I’m telling you, he wants me,” Lance said, for what was probably the dozenth time since breakfast.

Pidge rolled her eyes, stretching her leg out along the couch to kick Lance where he was seated on the opposite cushion without moving from where she’d comfortably settled with her tablet. The paladins were spending their downtime after training this morning in the lounge, all having claimed their usual spots to relax, but Lance harping on about last night’s dinner was making it even more difficult than usual - which was saying something, as the weirdly translated Altean books Keith tried to pass time with were hard enough to focus on anyway. “He does not ‘want’ you,” she said. “You think every person we ever meet at these coalition things ‘wants’ you, and how many times has that been the case?”

“Plenty of times,” Lance answered. “I’m not gonna be able to keep track exactly.”

“It’s sort of a numbers game by this point, isn’t it?” Hunk asked, tilting his head back from where he was seated cross-legged on the floor in front of the other two to join the conversation. “You flirt with basically every single person you find attractive - ”

“ - And your standards for that aren’t exactly sky-high,” said Pidge, “So you’ve probably hit on like five hundred people since we got shot out into space. Which would make your success rate - ”

“All right, I see where this math is going,” Lance groaned. “For your information, I do not flirt with nearly that many people.”

“Good point,” Pidge said. “Just winking and making finger guns probably doesn’t count. Or at least only counts as, like, half a flirt.”

“It’s not - you know what, whatever. We’re not talking about my overall track record, just last night. And that king was totally into me. Basically talked just to me the entire night. You saw, right, Keith?” He turned to Keith, who silently cursed his inability to turn invisible. “Back me up here.”

“Um,” Keith said. “Well, you certainly talked to him a lot.”

“I was replying to him, that’s how conversations work. But he was totally flirting with me, right?”

“Uh…”

Lance huffed and crossed his arms. “Okay, that doesn’t count for anything. Keith probably wouldn’t recognize flirting if his life depended on it.” Keith let out a little harrumph of indignation. Sure, that was true, but there was no need to just announce it like that.

“Nah, I’m gonna go ahead and take his testimony as gospel,” Pidge said. “Sorry, Lance. You bombed.”

“Need me to get Kaltenecker to make you some ice cream?” Hunk asked, reaching up to pat Lance on the leg.

“I’m like two seconds away from slapping all of you.”

“The bitter sting of rejection is such an ugly look on you,” Pidge said drily. A small beep sounded from her tablet, and a moment later, she sat up. “Allura just messaged. They’re getting an incoming signal from Yuipra, we’re probably gonna solidify alliance terms. Gotta go join ‘em in the bridge.”

Lance groaned. “Why do we all have to go? Shiro and Allura are in charge of all of that.”

“I dunno, to make a good impression?” Pidge stretched as she stood from the couch. “Besides, you should be excited. Get another chance to talk to the love of your life.”

“At no point did I ever say anything about him being the ‘love of my life’,” Lance said as he and Hunk reluctantly stood too. “All I said was that he wants me. Which I still maintain is one hundred percent true.”

“If you say so. You coming, Keith?”

“Yeah, I’m coming,” Keith said. He shut off his electric reader and dropped it onto the seat to come back to later before joining the others, shuffling in behind them for the short walk to the bridge.

When they arrived, joining Allura and Shiro on the deck, the holoscreen was already on and tuned to an image of King Olren, the arms of two of his ever-present guards just on the edges of the frame. The discussion was already in motion, but Olren paused mid-sentence as the door to the bridge slid open.

“Ah, the rest of your paladins have arrived, I see,” he said, smiling down at them as they took their places on the bridge. “It is a delight to see you all again.”

“You too, your majesty,” Hunk said.

Allura smiled as she looked back over her shoulder at the others. “King Olren was just telling us that he was quite impressed by our performance yesterday, as well as our engagement with his people at the banquet.”

“Quite so,” Olren said with a nod. “Your presence went over very well amongst my nobility. And, of course, I was just as enamored by Voltron as anyone in my court. Your knowledge and passion are obvious. Now, I’ve spent the morning reviewing the terms of our potential alliance with my advisors. Yuipra’s stance on interplanetary relations is perfectly in line with your current mission statement of resistance against the Galra empire and liberation of those under its control. However, I must confess slight apprehension over how the citizenry would respond to engaging in a conflict in which we are currently not directly involved. As your proposed terms are outlined right now, the use of our resources versus the coalition benefits that you would grant us in return seem rather unbalanced.”

“That’s only in the short term,” Shiro spoke up. “We may currently be thin on benefits, but that’s entirely due to past Galra occupation that we are working to wipe out. Already we’re seeing the signs of environmental improvements and economic growth from planets that have been liberated and are being helped by the Coalition now. The trade agreements and political relations we build now will yield positive growth over time, and in the long run it’ll more than offset the costs of your involvement.”

“And you have evidence to back your claims of long-term benefits?”

“I would be more than happy to send you any details about the Coalition’s fiscal plans and projections of resource growth that you need,” said Allura. “You will find that we have been nothing but meticulous.”

Olren nodded. “That would do nicely, Princess, if you would be so kind. I must admit, your confidence alone is quite the sales pitch.” Allura lifted her chin, a proud smile on her lips, and Olren grinned back. “The rapid creation and propagation of the Voltron coalition makes ever more sense. It’s certainly likely that Yuipra will have its part in it as you make history.”

“We thank you, your majesty,” Allura said.

“I am still not, however, quite ready yet to solidify an alliance with your coalition,” Olren continued, and Allura deflated. “Not due to problems with any stipulations we’ve laid out as yet, but because I like to know those with whom I ally on a more… personal level, you see. It is one thing to be able to ally with someone politically, but such bonds are far more meaningful, not to mention harder to break, when they are personalized to a nigh emotional level. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Allura paused a moment before answering, “Well - well, yes, of course. I completely understand where you are coming from.”

“Excellent. Now, I’ve gotten a bit of a chance to gain some familiarity during our banquet, but if Voltron would be so willing to indulge me, I really prefer to do so more privately. One-on-one, actually.”

“All right,” Allura said slowly. “So, erm, what, exactly, are you proposing?”

“Suppose I’ll get right down to it,” Olren said through a little breath of a laugh. “I wish to host an intimate dinner in my private dining room tomorrow evening. And I would like your red paladin to accompany me as my date.”

Lance cast the others a grin - a smirk that seemed to say, I told you so - before he stepped forward and bowed grandly. “Your majesty,” he said as he straightened up, “It would be an honor to - ”

“No, no, not him,” Olren said, waving a hand dismissively. “The red paladin.”

“I am the red - ” Lance started, before his face fell and his eyes widened. “Wait, do you mean - are you - are you talking about Keith?!” he spluttered, gesturing with his thumb toward Keith, who stood in stunned silence as all the eyes in the room spun toward him.

“Yes. Keith,” Olren said with a smile. “I do hope you will accept my invitation?”

“Uh - I - I - ” Keith stammered out.

“Is, ah, is that really necessary?” Shiro asked. “Voltron functions as a unit, you see, and there’s no need to have only one of us to dinner rather than the whole group.”

“If you function as a unit, then your red paladin’s character should reflect that of all of you,” Olren said. “You need not worry, really, over the effect on our potential alliance. I must admit, I’ve found myself quite taken with his disposition already. But you do understand why I may want to take the time to personally assure myself that we will be a good match, yes?”

“Understandable, yes,” Allura said. “I’m sure that we can arrange - ” She paused as she glanced back over her shoulder at Keith, whose knees were growing shaky and who had long since felt his face heating into a bright red.

Allura furrowed her brow and turned back toward Olren. “Could you please grant us a few doboshes to discuss our availability?” she asked. “We will be happy to resume this conversation shortly.”

“Of course,” Olren said. “I look forward to a call. And I must admit, I do expect to like what I hear. I’m not in the habit of taking ‘no’ for an answer.” He cast them all one last smile before his holoscreen went dark and then disappeared.

Allura let out a breath before turning around toward Keith. “Keith,” she said. “Are you ill?”

Keith blinked at her. “Am I… what?”

“You look ill.”

Slowly he shook his head. “No, I’m - I’m not sick.”

“Because if you have any sort of bug that the king might catch, that would certainly not reflect well, nor be ideal for you and your state of mind during a dinner. Or if something in their meal disagreed with you - ”

“It’s just, um - this is - he said.” Keith took a deep breath. “He said - he said he wanted me to be his date.”

“Yes?” Allura said. “And?”

“And, well, I, uh - I don’t - I don’t really have - ” Allura tilted her head, and Keith took a deep breath before finishing, “I don’t date.”

“Oh for the love of - ” Lance groaned. “Of course. Of course Mullet’s never been on a date before. We should’ve known.”

“Is that all?” Allura asked. “Keith, I’m sure it won’t be much of a problem. Everyone gets nervous the first time they go on a date. We could always go through some etiquette with you, some conversation starters. We’ll no doubt have to brief you on a number of courting customs anyway, seeing as nobility is rather more particular in how they go about it, but I’m certain that - ”

“No, look, that’s not it,” Keith interrupted. “It’s - it’s not that I haven’t dated. I mean, I, um, I haven’t, but it isn’t - it’s just that, I don’t date.”

“I’m… not sure I follow,” Allura said.

With a grunt of frustration, Keith brought a hand up to card his fingers through his hair as he searched for the words to explain it in a way she’d understand. “I just - I don’t do that, I - I don’t feel the things that people are supposed to feel when - when they’re on dates, like, the romance and all, they - they don’t - ”

“Hang on,” Pidge interrupted, lifting a hand and peering at him with narrowed eyes through her glasses. “Keith, are you aro?”

Keith felt his voice halt in his throat, and he crossed his arms and took a step back, ducking his head a little as he closed in on himself and avoided looking at his teammates’ faces. It wasn’t that he thought they’d react badly to it, or judge him for it - at least, he sure hoped they wouldn’t. It was just that this was personal, and he much would’ve preferred to come out when he was actually ready to, not just… like this.

But, of course, now that it was out there, it was out there. Not like there was any point in denying it. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Um, aroace, to be specific, but, uh, yeah. Yeah.”

He dared a glance up beneath his lashes. Pidge was nodding slowly in understanding, and Shiro was more or less expressionless - he’d already known, after all. The others all just appeared to be confused.

“I’m sorry, arrow?” Allura said. “Pidge, what is that?”

“Aro. Short for aromantic,” Pidge answered. “Means he doesn’t feel romantic attraction.”

“Wait, for real?” Lance said, his brow wrinkling and his eyes scanning Keith up and down as if looking for some sort of clue on his clothes to verify it.

“Yes, for real,” Keith snapped. “Why the fuck would I lie about something like that?”

Lance lifted his hands innocently. “Shit, man, I wasn’t accusing you of lying. Just, you know, processing the new information. Guess that kinda clears up some of the rumors that were going around the Garrison…”

For a moment Keith was about to demand some follow-up about these rumors, but decided to let it go for now. He’d overheard plenty of gossip about himself as a student on every other subject - whether he cheated on the sims and how he did it, how he got into the Garrison, his juvie history, his relationship to Shiro, his family. A couple rumors about his sexuality were a mere drop in the bucket. It wasn’t important now.

What was important was the matter at hand: the dinner date with King Olren. “Look, the point is, I don’t do the whole ‘dating’ thing. It’s - it’s not my thing. I wouldn’t be able to pull it off.”

Allura crossed her arms, tapping her finger pensively against her elbow. “Well, what if we trained you on it?”

Keith frowned at her. “What?”

“On dating. I’m sure we’d be able to give you sufficient instruction to handle a single dinner date. If we trained you, do you think you’d be able to manage?”

Keith took a step back. “Allura, I told you, I don’t feel - ”

“I know, I understand. I’m not asking you to be attracted to him. I know you can’t control that. But I also know that this could be a very advantageous alliance for Voltron, and a date with you seems to be the deciding factor. Would it be at all possible for you to, er… fake it?”

“Fake it?” Keith repeated incredulously.

“Yeah, yeah, that could work,” Lance said, nodding. “I mean, that’s not exactly hard to pull off, right? I’ve faked my way through dates before. You know, I meet someone online, but when I show up to the restaurant for a date it turns out they’re a total weirdo, so I smile through the dinner and make small talk and just sorta, like, humor them. Let them have a nice evening then get the fuck outta there.”

“What, you can’t just be up front about not liking them?”

“It’s called manners, Mullet.”

“Look, I’m not going to - ”

“They do kind of have a point, Keith,” Shiro interrupted.

Keith turned to him, taken aback. If anyone knew how uncomfortable Keith was over the concept of dating, it would be Shiro. Keith had only even learned about aromanticism and asexuality because Shiro had explained them to him, back in their Galaxy Garrison days, and his surrogate brother had held his hand tightly through the process of coming out for the first time. So him saying that Allura and Lance ‘had a point’ about sending him on a date… it was unexpected, to say the very least. “Shiro?” he said. “You - you think I should…”

“Keith, I’m not saying you need to, uh, take it very far,” Shiro said slowly. “I know you’ve got your boundaries, and I respect them. It’s just, well, it isn’t as though Olren is asking for your hand in marriage or anything. All he’s requested is a dinner date. I realize that it wouldn’t be a comfortable experience, but one awkward evening in exchange for all the resources Yuipra can offer… It would be a shame to have to pass it up.”

“Exactly,” said Allura, giving Shiro a grateful nod. “There’s no need to make it a bigger deal than it is. One dinner date. That’s all.”

“I mean, Olren’s certainly not my type either,” Shiro said with a shrug. “But if it was me he’d asked after, well, I wouldn’t love it, but I’d take one for the team, you know?”

Something rolled in Keith’s stomach and he swallowed down a lump in his throat. That was true. Shiro would do this without hesitation. Hell, even if it had been a woman asking, which would definitely leave Shiro uncomfortable to all get out, he would take the fall. Because that’s what he does - he makes sacrifices for his team. That’s what a leader does. And Keith was the leader now.

One date, he repeated mentally. He could handle just one date, surely. For Voltron’s sake.

“All right,” he said, his voice coming out sounding quieter and dryer than he would have liked. “All right, I’ll, uh, I’ll do it. You can let him know.”

Allura let out a breath of relief and smiled at him. “Thank you, Keith. I’ll get a missive off to him at once, and we can start training.”

“You know what I still don’t understand?” Lance said as Allura turned away toward her podium.

“What?” asked Keith.

“This guy had a dinner with our whole team,” Lance said. “He was sitting at the same table as Shiro and Allura and, well, me… and he goes for Keith. I just don’t get it.”

“Lance,” Shiro said with a frown.

“Look, I’m just saying what we’re all thinking. It’s not like he didn’t have options. He actually chose to thirst after the mullet. Out of everyone there. This was a conscious decision on his part.”

“Everyone has their own tastes.”

“It’s like if he’d gone to an art museum and decided that his favorite exhibit was the bathroom door.”

“That’s enough, Lance,” Shiro scolded.

Lance shook his head. “I dunno, man. Just doesn’t make any sense to me.”

Keith could only shrug in reply. It didn’t make any sense to him either.

#aroace keith #keith #vld keith #voltron fic #vld fic #my writing #fic: kings over aces

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flutteringphalanges · 4 years

Photo

Mirabile Visue

Summary: Sister Agatha Van Helsing discovers she’s in over her head when a competitive game of chess ultimately results in her becoming pregnant with the child of her worst enemy, Count Dracula. Now tied by a bond deeper than blood, the two must learn to coexist and adapt in a world that could be potentially hostile towards their offspring. Parenthood has never looked so batty.

Characters: Dracula/Sister Agatha Van Helsing

Chapters: 2/6

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: UPDATE: So, originally, this story was only going to be three chapters, but I'm upping it to five. It just made more sense to break it up the way I plan to. Anyway, enough of that. Wow! I cannot express how honored I am over the response this story has received thus far! I am truly grateful for each and every one of you! With that said, you deserve the best and I plan to deliver that to you! A quick apologies for the delay. Here is part two! -Jen

Cobor, Transylvania

A Struggling Livestock Farm on the Outskirts of the Village

Gellert Bartok was a man of pride despite the many shortcomings he'd experienced in his fifty years of life. Born from Hungarian immigrants who had settled in the countryside of Romania, he, his wife, Greta, and their two sons, Elek and Jozsef, worked tirelessly on the few acres of farmland he had inherited from his parents raising cattle, sheep, and pigs. From birth to slaughter and then to market, the pay from their labor was next to nothing. Their little village was being snuffed out by the greater estates and the agriculture along with them. They were, theoretically speaking, invisible. And it was for that reason alone that the farmer was stunned by a letter that was delivered to him with a request for a visit and the promise of a very high pay check from a man simply known as Count Dracula.

The sun had long since sunk down behind the far off hills when a gentle, but firm wrapping sounded against the door. Though he was expecting the arrival, Gellert still jumped in surprise, nearly knocking over his glass of brandy. Muttering to himself, he hurried over and opened the door to reveal a tall figure dressed finely standing before him.

"Lovely weather tonight," Dracula commented, letting out a content sigh. His teeth glistened in the light of the full moon and for some odd reason that Gellert couldn't put his finger on, it made him slightly uncomfortable. "Gellert Bartok is it?"

"Yes," the other man nodded. "You must be Count Dracula."

"Please," the vampire waved his hand. "Dracula will suffice." Silence fell between them and Dracula, sensing the man's awkwardness, smiled warmly. "May I come in?"

"Oh yes, of course. Sorry," the farmer apologized, stepping aside to allow the other man in. "Please, come make yourself comfortable. I have brandy if you'd like a drink."

"That's alright," the count replied pleasantly. "I'm not one for alcohol. And besides," he grinned at Gellert, causing a shiver to run up the man's spine. "I promised my wife I wouldn't drink tonight. She's magnificent, but can be such a bore at times." He chuckled, looking around the room until his eyes landed on the table. "Shall we sit and talk business then?"

The two men sat opposite of each other, Dracula's fingers intertwined as his elbows rested casually on the table. Though the count hadn't done anything to prove he was remotely harmful, Gellert unease made him glad that his wife and two sons were visiting her sister in another village. Something wasn't sitting right, and yet, he was still too intrigued to turn the offer away.

"So you breed pigs," the vampire inquired. "For meat I assume?"

"Baznas," the farmer replied. "They are a newer breed, crossed between Mangalitsa and Berkshire. Quite hardy, they are. Not a lot of people have felt...adventurous, I guess you might say, to raise them."

"Hm," Dracula considered thoughtfully. "And you sell a lot of pork at the market?"

"When we can," Gellert admitted. "We don't have as many sow to produce piglets like we'd want. Money can be tight sometimes." He chuckled as if trying to ease the tension. "But we make do. We all sell beef and-"

"I'm only interested in hogs," Dracula interrupted with the wave of his hand. "Particularly their blood to be precise."

"...I'm sorry, their blood?" The other man's confusion made the vampire smile. "I'm not sure I quite understand…"

"I guess you might say my household is quite fond of black pudding," the vampire stated. "Not a dish commonly found here, but I suppose one might say my family has exquisite tastes." He inhaled, straightening up in his chair. "I don't want to take up much of your time, Mr. Bartok, so I'll get to the point. I am willing to pay you forty lei for your travel alone to my castle and back. Another twenty lei for every pint of blood you bring me, provided it is still fresh upon arrival. That is of the utmost importance. I will even provide you with a few more breeding pairs if you'd like." He grinned at the awestruck expression on the other man's face before leaning in. "The meat is yours to sell, I am only concerned with the blood. Is my price fair?"

"That's...that's…" Gellert did his best to quickly calculate in his head. "That's at least sixty lei!"

"At least one hundred and twenty," the count corrected. "Once you get up and running, I'd prefer you deliver at least twice a month." He paused for a moment, seeming to consider something. "Perhaps I'll provide a few more pigs than promised, to get production up and running." He studied the farmer's eyes. "Do we have a deal?"

"Yes," Gellert laughed, beaming for the first time since Dracula's arrival. He held his hand out in earnest, surprised by how cold the other man's was when they shook in agreement. "Thank you! Thank you for your generosity! You won't be disappointed!"

"I certainly hope not."

And when the count smiled, Gellert could almost swear his teeth looked a little sharper than before.

Transylvania, Romania

Dracula's Castle

Dawn was fast approaching by the time Dracula had returned to his fortress. Swiftly he made his way to the front entrance and pulled the heavy doors open as if they weighed no more than a feather. Taking in the familiar surroundings, he let out a content sigh, pleased with how successful the night had turned in his favor.

"You refrained from spilling any blood tonight, I hope?"

He turned to see Agatha standing by the fireplace, the flames causing her shadow to appear much larger than she was. Nestled in her arms, dressed in a white infant's nightgown and bonnet, rested Sorina, no older than six months. The baby smiled at the sight of her father, gurgling as she clenched and unclenched her chubby fists.

"Yes, unfortunately I was obedient tonight," he smirked as he strode over to her side. Gingerly, he lifted the infant from her mother's arms and held her close, his cocky expression turning into one of warmness when Sorina touched his face. "Micul mea liliac," he purred, gazing down as if he were in a trance. "Hours feel like centuries when we're apart."

"Surely you can think of a more endearing nickname than "little bat"," the woman spoke, arms folded over her chest. "One more fitting for a child."

"Says the woman who has called her "Sunny" on more than one occasion." Agatha's eyebrows raised in surprise as the vampire merely shrugged. "I confess I've heard you in the nursery. Quite interesting coming from someone who has insisted on calling her child by her full name." His gaze flickered over to meet the former nun's, a grin forming. "But I hold no judgement towards you, scumpa mea."

If it wasn't for the fact that he was holding their daughter, perhaps Agatha would be taken by his flirtatious teasing. But right now, her partner's attention had been redirected towards the infant, who was currently chewing on her fist. Protectively, she reached forward to pull the hand out of Sorina's mouth when the vampire stepped back.

"She's fine," he promised. "She won't harm herself."

As if to ease her concerns, he gently moved Sorina's hand aside to reveal her nearly gumless mouth where only two bottom incisors had begun to erupt. Two human teeth. There was no sign of the other set that made their appearance known recently. The reason the count had gone out to the hog farm in the first place. For as both Dracula and Agatha had learned early on, like her father, Sorina possessed two sets of teeth prosumbly. Human, and of course, vampire.

"How can you be certain?" The worried mother countered. "She's too young to control them yet. What if she were to pierce her hand or worse?"

Absentmindedly, she placed a palm over one of her breasts, the tiny needle like scars hidden by the fabric of her clothing. Though her bite was not lethal, Sorina on multiple occasions had bitten down on her mother's flesh while feeding. Whether it was to drink or not, neither parent was sure, but as Agatha had craved blood during her pregnancy, the thought arose that perhaps Sorina did too. With a mortal mother and an immortal father, anything was possible.

Almost seeming to read his unorthodox wife's mind, Dracula tenderly placed a hand over the one resting on her chest. Agatha looked up at him, trying to maintain a stoic pose, but the fear in her eyes said it all. Sorina was quite possibly the only kind of her world, excluding children that died by the hands of the undead. And with that came no knowledge on how to care for her. Provide what she needed and cast out what she didn't. That thought alone would put a sense of hopelessness in the heart of any parent.

"The meeting with the farmer went better than I anticipated. To be quite frank I was growing a little worried," he chuckled. "He seemed somewhat nervous at first, but it worked out in the end." His thumb brushed across her fingers. "We should be receiving our first supply within the next few days. It'll be good for her," he spoke softly, noting how Sorina was beginning to drift off in the crook of his arm. "Like I said, it is the closest thing to human blood. But, Agatha, you must realize and accept that if she rejects it, we must-"

"I know," the former nun whispered. "I know."

Dracula nodded before returning his attention to Sorina. He smiled softly as the infant now lay sleeping against his chest, her dark curls peeking ever so slightly out from underneath her bonnet. Once when he desired nothing more than blood and the quest for knowledge now was replaced by an undying love for a tiny creature whose beating heart was no bigger than her own fist.

"Let's put her down, surely she'll sleep a good few hours." The vampire murmured, his eyes now flickering up to catch Agatha's gaze. "Then we'll retire to your room. I'll stay with you until you sleep. Unless you wish to join me in my coffin," he added with a smirk.

"I have enough trouble cleaning dirt from underneath my nails," the woman stated, smiling at the man's clear attempt to cheer her up. "So with the utmost regret I must turn down your offer."

"Pity," he replied. "Grime really brings out the blue in your eyes."

"And your sub par flattery leaves much more to be desired," she countered smugly. "But I commend you for your valiant effort."

Dracula looked like he was about to reply when Sorina moved ever so slightly in her sleep, bringing her parents back to reality. He exhaled, though he did not need to, as he smiled at his wife. How far the two had really come, branching out their companionship to include a third member, even if it had been unexpected.

"Come," he gestured towards the stairs. "Before she wakes up."

The room chosen for the nursery shared a wall with Agatha's, allowing the mother to be able to hear her child's cries if need be. Only a week had passed since she and Dracula mutually decided to see how the infant would do on her own. So far, there hadn't been any issues with both parents checking in on occasion to ensure Sorina's well being. Stepping inside, the first thing to greet any pair of eyes was the ornate crib Dracula commissioned himself. The fine detail carved into each wooden crevice put many famous sculptures to shame.

Taking great care, the vampire gently placed Sorina down on her back. He attentively watched her, preparing to lift her back up at the slightest sign she was awakening. When he was certain she was fast asleep, he smiled and gingerly leaned over to place a single kiss on her forehead. Agatha watched from his side, her fingers running against the surface of one of the top planks. Dracula turned to her and offered up his hand, she took it without hesitation.

"Leave the door crack," she insisted as they quietly left the room. "It makes it easier to hear her if she's upset."

When they entered her bed chambers, Agatha immediately went to her dresser in search of her nightgown. She could feel Dracula's eyes on her as she slipped out of her clothes knowing well enough that in a few hours she'd be dressed for the day. After all, she had only stayed up so late waiting for the vampire to return. The least she could do was to be comfortable while she took the equivalent to a long nap.

"You men and your beastly tendencies towards the mere aspect of sex," she commented, throwing a glance back at Dracula. "I can feel your eyes wandering."

"Hm," the vampire hummed, taking a step closer. "And yet, you don't shy away from it." When his cool arms wrapped around Agatha's bare middle, he could feel her shiver. "Dare I say, I might wonder the same for you?"

"Neither of us have slept for hours," the former nun stated as the count pulled her towards the bed. "Exhaustion triumphs over..." Agatha's breath hitched in her throat as Dracula began to kiss her neck, his lips lingering over her jugular. "You never fight fairly."

"And you love me for it," he murmured against her skin, letting his hands travel against her pale skin.

"I tolerate you," she smirked, leaning into his touch. "That should say enough."

"Then allow me to indulge your toleration," he whispered into her ear, Agatha letting out a small yelp of surprise when he flipped her onto the bed. "Let me satisfy you."

"Perhaps sleep can wait," the former nun said nearly breathless as the vampire began to move down her body. "Just don't wake the baby."

As if on cue, the door to Agatha's bedroom closed, leaving the couple to do as they pleased.

#Dracula #Dracula on Netflix #Count Dracula #Dracula x Agatha #agatha van helsing #dragatha

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blurry-fics · 4 years

Text

Chapter Eight

Where Did We Go | Series Masterlist

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 1890

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this one! :) (picture credit to google)

“Not fair!” Y/N groaned. “Why is your aim so good?”

“I’ve been playing this game for years, it just takes practice.”

“I’ve been playing just as long as you have!”

“Well, not everyone can be good at Mario Kart.”

Y/N shook her head and used her elbow to knock my arm to the side. It threw me off for a moment, but I was able to quickly get back on track and maintain my lead, much to her dismay.

“Excuse me, but that’s a violation of rule number five: no using physical contact to distract or throw off other players. I’m going to need you to use a forfeit during the next round.”

“That’s a violation of rule number five,” Y/N mocked me, suddenly leaning to the left as her character rounded a tight corner.

“Hey, watch it,” I laughed, shifting my own body so that I was still able to see the screen. As much as I liked having Y/N leaned against my chest while we played video games, there were definitely a certain number of disadvantages that came along with it. One of those was how into the game she could get, resulting in her moving all over the place.

“Sorry, thought I was going to fall off the edge.”

“You know moving your body doesn’t actually affect the character, right?”

“Shh, it makes me feel better.”

I went quiet as we neared the end of the race, holding out hope that Y/N wouldn’t come up with some last-minute sabotage to take the win from me. She was only a couple points behind me overall, so I needed as many wins as I could get.

It was hard to contain my excitement when I finally did cross the finish line in first place. Since Y/N was still trying to secure her place in second, I gently wrapped my arms all the way around her and pressed a kiss - or maybe two - to her cheek.

“Ty-ler!” she groaned, still keeping her eyes on the screen. “That’s a rule violation!”

“That’s a rule violation,” I repeated, using the same mocking tone she had earlier.

“Hey!”

“Oh, so are rule violations only important when they apply to you?”

Y/N crossed the finish line - taking second place - and then turned to me. “Yes, exactly.”

“How is that fair?”

“Because then I get to win,” she grinned.

“That plan doesn’t seem to be working out, now does it?”

“Hey!” Y/N set her Wii remote down and crossed her arms across her chest. “You’re so rude.”

“But you love me,” I said, giving her my sweetest smile.

Her expression immediately faltered and she leaned forward, wrapping her arms around me. I laughed as I did the same to her, holding her close to my chest.

“I do love you,” she mumbled into my shoulder.

“I love you too.” I pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head. “Now what do you say we take a break and have some ice cream?”

“I like that idea,” she said, then leaned back so that she could look at me properly. “And then can we go on a drive? We haven’t gone driving just for fun since before you left.”

“Of course.”

Y/N and I grabbed our respective pints of ice cream from the fridge and then sat down on the couch. She was quick to tangle her legs up with mine, just to make sure we were still cuddling in some form even when we were sitting a couple feet apart.

“Hey, can I talk to you about something?”

A chill ran down my spine, but I brushed it off and met Y/N’s eyes. “Sure, what’s up?”

“So,” she was idly dragging her spoon through her ice cream, “I was folding your tour laundry the other day, and when I was doing your shirts I might have found something.”

Hundreds of possibilities began to run through my head, each worse than the last. What did I keep hidden in my t-shirt drawer?

“What did you find?” I asked, somehow managing to keep my voice steady.

“Do you, um, remember writing me a note on the back of an Ohio postcard?”

My eyes went wide as I remembered that morning, hunched over in the back of a tour van scribbling out my love confession on a cheap gas station postcard. I had chickened out about giving it to her then, but it seemed that it had still found its way to her.

“That was still in my t-shirt drawer?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it was wrapped up in one of your old shirts that hasn’t been touched since 2011 and somehow survived multiple moves.”

“That card waited almost as long as I did to tell you how it felt.”

“Were you really going to give that to me when you came back?”

“I wanted to. I only took it out the night before I gave you the rest of the postcards because I decided it was too soon and you might not feel the same. Anyway, yeah, you know the rest of the story,” I said, smiling down at my ice cream.

“I swear that I learn about a new time that you almost confessed at least once a week,” she laughed.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” I joined her laughter. “It was scary, alright?”

“I know! I know. But you did it.”

“I did.”

“Hey, Ty?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for spending time with me tonight. I know work is keeping you busy, but I really enjoy this time with you. It means a lot to me.”

“No, thank you for being patient while I worked and waiting while I finished some things up. I know it isn’t easy, but I appreciate it.”

“Your welcome. I really hope things get worked out soon.”

I held back a sigh. “Me too.”

* * *

The night air was surprisingly warm as we drove down the back roads of Columbus, listening to music and talking about whatever came to mind. Y/N had her feet kicked up on the dash, as she always did. One of her hands was loosely holding mine, the other was twirling the strings of her sweatshirt around her forefinger.

“Hey, isn’t that the road that goes down to the lake?” Y/N asked, pointing down a little side road.

“I think so. Why, do you want to go for a swim?”

“Not in this weather,” she laughed. “I just didn’t realize we were so far outside the city.”

“We’re not that far. Maybe thirty minutes at most.”

“Still, I didn’t think we had been driving that long.”

“Time flies when you’re having fun.”

“I am having fun,” she smiled. “Wait, do you remember when we went out to the lake before you left?”

“Of course I do.”

“And you tackled me into the water after telling me that it was warm?”

“Ok, ok, I know I’m terrible at flirting, you don’t have to remind me,” I laughed, remembering the day. It was a good memory, but it was still tinged with the sadness of leaving for our first tour. I hadn’t been lucky enough to be able to bring Y/N along with me then.

“You got better!”

“No, you just learned to accept my dorkish charm.”

“I love your dorkish charm.”

“I’m glad somebody does.”

I pulled Y/N’s hand closer to me and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, since it was just about the most that I could do while driving. She squeezed my hand in return and then went back to looking out the window. We were quiet for a little while, letting the quiet music fill the air between us as we enjoyed one another’s company.

“I’m going to miss it here when we leave again,” she said. “Of all the places we’ve been, nowhere has made me feel quite like Columbus does.”

“Because it’s home,” I said, glancing over at her. “Think of all the memories that we have here.”

“Too many to count, but I’m looking forward to making new memories on tour with you.”

Y/N lightly squeezed my hand. My mouth partially curled into a smile, but it quickly faded again. I had still yet to tell her about the additional meetings that had been scheduled for this week. As much as I hated to ruin the peaceful night we were having, I knew that it would be better to tell her sooner rather than later.

“Um, speaking of tour,” I started. If you listened close enough, you could hear the way that my voice was shaking.

“Yeah?”

“Do you remember how I told you that we didn’t get everything done that we needed to last week?”

Y/N went quiet for a little while. I started to tap my thumb nervously against the steering wheel.

“Was I half asleep when you told me?”

“I think so.”

“Ok, because that sounds vaguely familiar but I can’t really pinpoint it. Anyway, you didn’t get everything done that you needed to?”

“Right,” I nodded. “So in order to make up for that, they scheduled two additional meetings this week on Tuesday and Thursday.”

“Oh.”

Explanations were pouring out of my mouth before I had a chance to stop them. “They shouldn’t be as long as the meeting last week because we split up the time better, but I know you were really looking forward to spending time together. I’m going to try and not work at home as much to make up for it, but I really don’t know how much I can get out of it. It just seems like all the original plans are falling apart and thankfully Josh is coming, but I’m not sure if we’re going to be able to do all the things that we wanted to and-”

“Ty, hey,” Y/N reached out and squeezed my shoulder. “Deep breaths. It’s all going to be ok. Like you said, Josh is flying in and I know that together you two have enough sway to get what you want. Tour is still a couple weeks away, there’s time to iron the details out.”

“I guess.”

“I’m right here, love.”

I took a couple deep breaths as we pulled up to a stop sign. Y/N kept her hand on my shoulder, rubbing rhythmic circles into it. Once we were stopped, I turned to look at her.

“I’m really sorry about this.”

“It’s ok. This is your job and what you love, it should always come first.”

She smiled, but I knew her well enough to tell that it wasn’t genuine. Her eyes weren’t shining the way that they usually did.

“You should always come first.”

“But that’s not always an option.”

After pressing a gentle kiss to my cheek, Y/N sat back and took hold of my hand again. I pressed my lips together, holding in my thoughts, and pulled out onto the next road. She was right, even if I didn’t want to admit it. At the end of the day, the band was still my job, I couldn’t just push it aside because I wanted to stay at home and spend time with Y/N instead. Right now, it had to come first.

No matter how guilty it made me feel.

* * * * *

Taglist

@tylersheavydirtysoul @faceofcontvsions @ohprettyweeper @shaytwentyonep @tyler-josephs-floof @buzzybeebandaid @topownsmyheart @harishaanne @addictwithaheavydirtycheetah @somethingboutyou1 @boiled-onionrings @heythereitm3 @gaysludge @breadbinishigh @5secondsofmoxley @patdsinner33 @littlerachelbee @royal-avengers

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sassyduckqueen · 4 years

Text

30 Days of Lukanette- Sun & Moon

Just kind of a filler chapter and also Gamer happens in this one

------------------------------------------------------------------

"You know if you need more time, we don't mind," Luka smiled as Marinette stuck out her tongue as she drew the designs for Jagged's posters. She was super excited that she was chosen by him to design the posters for his upcoming show but he could of had better timing. She had an English test and a science test, not to mention the unfinished dress and what feels like a hundred other things.

"It's fine, Luka," She gasped. "I'll be fine,"

"You sure?" He asked as his phone buzzed. "Ah, the others are here. Do you want me to let them in?"

"Yeah. If you don't mind," She smiled as she grabbed another pen and began to detail the outlines. Luka smiled softly before getting up and walking over to her. She blushed lightly as he gently kissed her cheek before he headed downstairs and let the others in.

"Why am I not surprise you're already here?" Juleka shook her head as they headed up to Marinette's room. She looked up as they came in but he could see in her eyes, she was panicked. One of the t-shirts had been destroyed and the others were quite finished yet.

"Ok so I'm not quite done with all of them yet but this is what I've got so far," She gasped, holding up the only finished one. "What do you think? Is it ok? Is the unicorn perfect? The unicorn has to be perfect!"

"They're amazing!" Rose gasped, excited as she looked at them. Luka smiled as Juleka and Ivan looked at them while Mylene sat down. "They're so perfect,"

"You're truly gifted, Mari," Luka smiled, causing her to smile a little but before Marinette could say anything else, he suddenly disappeared and then so did the rest of Kitty Section. She dropped the shirt she was holding in shock before her computer turned itself on and Gamer came on the screen.

"What do you do when no one wants to play with you?" He asked. "You give them no choice,"

"Max?" She gasped as Tikki looked at the screen. "Oh, no! This is my fault!"

"Marinette, stop. This isn't your fault,"

"Ladybug, Cat Noir," Gamer started to talk again. "All these people were once akumatized and saved by you. If you want another chance at freeing them, you're gonna have to come and play with me,"

"I think you're gonna have to take a break this time," Tikki stated, looking at her. Marinette nodded and got up, ready to say the transformation words but Tikki gently placed her hand on hers, making her look at the little goddess. "But you're gonna have to be super careful today. Luka disappeared, along with all of Kitty Section, which means Viperion won't be there to back you up but Kagami also got akumatized which means no Ryuko either,"

"I know but I'll be ok. I think Gamer really just wants to play," She stated. "Tikki! Spots on!"

She transformed into Ladybug and bolted out of her window. Jumping across Paris' skyline, she hoped to get this over and done with. She had some much to do and while she felt like it was her fault, she really needed to wrap this up quickly. She landed on a rooftop near the huge primard and sighed as Cat joined her.

"No Viperion today?" He asked.

"No and I don't think Ryuko will be joining us either," She stated, pointing to the gaming zone. "Both of them are in there,"

"What? But how did he get them?"

"He has captured everyone who was ever akumatized. Both Ryuko and Viperion were akumatized in their civilian forms," She sighed. "I know you don't like Viperion but we need to free him, Ryuko and everyone else,"

"Hold up... what makes you think I don't like Viperion?" He asked. She gave him a look. "Ok, so you've kissed him and he knows your identity but I don't hate him. I think the guy is actually pretty awesome. He's smart and looks after the team. Hell, we'd be defeated a good few times over without him. Another thing, he clearly loves you and respects you. Also, I think of him as my friend. In other words, I like him. I promise,"

"I'm glad," She smiled softly, getting an adorable smile of Cat.

"Come on. Let's save our friends!" He grinned, holding out his baton as two small pods floated over. Ladybug looked over and grinned.

"Let the game begin!"

(***)

Luka suddenly opened his eyes to find he was back in Marinette's bedroom with the rest of Kitty Section. He frowned confused but before he could say anything, Marinette suddenly hugged him. He smiled and hugged her back before looking at her.

"I was so worried!" She gasped, looking at all of them. "You all just vanished and I was really freaked out! So I went downstairs and my parents had gone and then I saw on the news that villiain Gamer had come back and stole people and I was j-"

"Marionette, breathe," Luka smiled. She took a deep breathe.

"I was just really worried," She mumbled, playing with her hands. "I'm glad you guys are ok,"

Rose suddenly hugged her, causing Marinette to hug back as Juleka mumbled something before Mylene's phone buzzed. She looked at her before gasping.

"Oh, no. We have to go, Ivan! Dad's on in twenty minutes," She gasped. Ivan nodded before they said they're goodbyes and left. Juleka and Rose decided to go and took some shirts with them, leaving Marinette alone with Luka. She moved her hair behind her ear as he stood there, unsure what to do.

"Um..." He mumbled. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to help you today. Been stuck in the gamer as Silencer was.. an experience,"

"I bet," She mumbled before shaking her head. "Anyway, now that Gamer has been defeated and that Max is able to test out his game thanks to Mum and Dad, I can final... Luka, what are you doing? I need those to finish the kitty t-shirts,"

"You can finish them tomorrow. Right now, you're gonna join me and Max on his new game alright?" He smiled softly as he folded the material and placed it carefully in the drawers. She pouted and crossed her arms as he moved over to her. He gently leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her lips, making her blush lightly.

"T-that's cheating," She gasped before smiling. "But I suppose I have a small amount of time for a game!"

With that, she grabbed his hand and dragged him downstairs, going into the living room. Max was currently owning her dad on as his akumatized self. Her dad managed to make a sort of comeback but Max owned him and won the game, getting a high five off her Mum.

"Ah, Marinette, perfect timing. Would you like to come and play with us?" He asked, pushing his glasses up. "And your friend is welcome too but I don't think we've met?"

"Um... err.. this is my... Luka?!" She gasped, blushing a little.

"Your Luka?" Max questioned. "Alya and Nino had mentioned you were spending more time with another boy then Adrien,"

At that point, Marinette went bright red and Max realized what he had said. He laughed nervously.

"Sorry, Marinette. I didn't mean it in a bad way," He smiled shyly before looking at Luka. "It's nice to meet you, Luka. I'm Max. I designed and created this game. Would you like to play with us?"

"Yes. It looks awesome," Luka smiled, sitting down with Marinette as her parents handed them the controls.

"We've leave you kids to it," Sabine smiled before leaning next to Luka. "Thanks for getting Marinette away from her work. She's been overworking herself for a week,"

"Anytime, Mrs Dupain-Cheng," He smiled softly as Marinette selected a character. He raised an eyebrow as she went for Miraculer while Max selected Trouble Maker. The two battled it out as they both hit the buttons. Luka looked over at Marinette and smiled softly as she stuck out her tongue as she tried to win. Unfortunately, Max won but she laughed softly and handed the controller to Luka.

"You can select any character... oh Silencer hm?" Max grinned, picking Frozer. "Let's see how this goes down,"

"Oh it is on," Luka grinned as the screen told them to fight. Marinette fought Luka would lose almost straight away as his Silencer Character was exactly made to go on ice but to his surprise, he did very well and managed to steal Frozer's voice but in the end, he got defeated. "Ahhh damn! Want another go, Mari?"

"Nah, I'm good watching," She smiled as Max selected a character. He went for Frightningale and Luka selected Guitar Villain.

"Nice choice. Let's see who's the better musician," Max grinned as the two of them started to fight. Luka did much better this time, even winning the game. Max gasped in pretend sorrow before laughing. However, his phone rang and he answered it. Luka went to say something to Marinette but noticed she had fallen asleep. He smiled softly as Max hung up the phone. "Sorry, I gotta go. It's my mum's last night in Paris before she goes off to train as an astronaunt,"

"That's awesome," Luka grinned. "And I get it,"

"What did you think to the game?" Max asked as he packed up the game and got his coat on.

"I really liked it. I'm not much of a gamer to be honest. I'm usually more focused on music but I thought it was awesome,"

"You're into music?" Max asked. Luka nodded.

"I play the guitar and I'm in a band called Kitty Section," He replied.

"Can you compose music?"

"Yeah. I write all my own riffs,"

"Do you would think you could come up with an opening track for my game? I'll paid you a commission," Max asked, looking hopefully. Luka made a thoughtful look.

"Sure, why not?" He smiled as he took out his phone. "You have Facebook right?"

"Yep. May I?" Max asked. Luka opened Facebook on his phone and handed it to Max, who went on his profile and added himself as a friend. "I'll accept it when I get home. Tell Marinette I'll see her in school,"

With that, he went downstairs and shouted bye to her parents. Luka looked over at her and gently shook her. She yawned and blinked.

"Come on. Let's get you to a proper bed," He smiled, gently helping her up and into her room. She leaned on him sleepily as he helped onto her bed. Tikki floated down next to him as he gently pulled her blanket over her as she snuggled up into her bed. He climbed down and wrote her a note as he decided he better get home before getting a little hug off Tikki.

"Take care, Luka," She smiled softly.

"You too," He smiled as he climbed down the ladder and headed downstairs. He knocked on the kitchen door lightly.

"Yes?" Sabine answered.

"Hey, I just thought I'd let you know that Max has gone home and Marinette's gone to her room to sleep," He smiled, popping his head through. "I'm also heading off,"

"Ok, dear," She smiled. "See you soon, Luka,"

"Good night, Mrs Dupain-Cheng," He smiled before heading out of the bakery. He yawned to himself as he began to walk back to the Seine. The night air was cool and the streets were quiet. He looked up and saw Cat Noir running across the rooftops. He smiled to himself as he reminded himself that it was his turn to go on Patrol tomorrow night. He made a turn and to his surprise, Bunnyx was leaning against the Lamp post. He thought she might be waiting for someone else and there was no way she could know who he was as she had never met him as Luka so he continued walking but she cleared her thought and looked directly at him. He frowned as she nodded her head to a darkened area and walked over there. He looked around and followed.

"What do you want?" He asked.

"I'm just here to give you a heads up, Mini Snake," She replied. "Remember that I told you that dream of yours was going to happen?"

"Yeah,"

"Well, it's gonna happen real soon. Like in the next two weeks soon," She replied.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you told me I do," She replied. "Urg... I mean older you... the one in the future. Earlier today, he told me that he remembered when he was walking home to the Seine on the night after Gamer attacked that he ran into me and that I told him that the dream he had was going to happen in roughly two weeks time,"

"Alright. Anything else I should know?"

"You're gonna meet me again but it won't be the me you know. She'll be from just before the future that happened. Ladybug will give her the rabbit miraculous for the first time so she won't be as experienced as me. Basically, a younger version of me, who hasn't met you yet so she won't know you but you'll know her,"

"Man, this is confusing," He gasped. "So how do I meet her?"

"I can't tell you that. Only that you will," She replied. "That version will find you as Viperion and please be careful,"

With that, she disappeared into a burrow, leaving Luka alone. He frowned to himself and headed back to the Seine. He found his way back onto the boat and into his room. His mum and Juleka were asleep so Sass floated out.

"Whatever this event is it can't be good,"

"I don't understand... the Bunnyx in my dream is an adult so how is it a younger version of her?"

"I do not know but I think we will find out soon enough,"

(***)

Luka looked up at the night sky as he thought about the recent events and the one that was come to pass. Would he be really be able to save Cat from this awful fate, whatever it was? Or would he fail? He sighed softly to himself as he looked up at the night sky. Sass floated up and sat on the edge of the boat. Luka sighed a little more as he wondered if he and Marinette would ever be together. Sometimes, he wondered if he was destined to be with her.

"Sass... I know that the Ladybug miraculous and the black cat miraculous holders are soulmates.... but is it possible that the snake miraculous holder could also be the soul mate of the Ladybug miraculous holder?"

"Hmmm our chosen have fallen for each other before," Sass replied. "The way I see it is the black cat is like the sun and the ladybug is the moon. The two are the different sides of the same coin and on paper should work,"

"Thanks," Luka rolled his eyes but Sass held up his hand.

"But they don't work out in reality. On paper, they are perfect for each other but the reality is the cat can be too much. Like the sun, he is bright and because of that, he can act a little blind and even outshine people. Where as the moon glows softly. She is not too bright but she can't work with the sky. She needs darkness and mystery for her to really shine and that's what the snake holder can be for her. The night sky that allows her to shine while still having her back,"

"So what you're saying is screw fate and stop worrying?" Luka smiled, getting a little chuckle from the snake god.

"Exactly,"

#lukanette is endgame #lukanette #lukanetteseptember2k19 #luka couffaine #marinette dupen chang #gamer #cat noir #bunnyx #Stolen Luka #cute moment #Pro LukaMari

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intrepid-fictioneer-7 · 5 years

Text

On Whether the Books of A Song of Ice and Fire Will Have the Same Ending As the TV Show Game of Thrones

No.

Or rather, maybe, maybe not.

Seriously, we have no actual way to tell. For years, even before Season 8, many loved to proclaim, especially smugly if said to book readers that came to dislike GoT, that the show will obviously have the real ending out before the books ever finish, because GRRM told the showrunners the details of everything and how it will end in case the show overtook the books. And so you, the one critical of the show, will have to resign yourself that you will only get to see the canonical ending through the show.

And then the post-Season 3 changes piled up way too much for the showverse looking much like the books, reassuring the readers that the show had clearly become its own thing. And then Season 7 and Season 8 rolled around, and book readers felt vindicated, while show viewers were disappointed, saddened, or angry at how yet another the most popular show on television ended so badly.

Nowadays, not many still hold the old belief, most hoping that GRRM do something different. But many others still believe the endings will be the same, if only not with joy but with resignation this time.

After all, say some, didn't Isaac Hempstead Wright just confirm King Bran was a future plot development that GRRM told D&D? Making it one of the 3 twists GRRM told D&D (“three holy sh— moments” to quote them) that will definitely make it into the books, the other being Shireen's burning and Hodor's origin? Meaning many if not most things from the show's final season and ending will end up in the books?

I personally don't think so. Of course, the exact same ending has always been an unbelievable hyperbole, but even thinking most major plot points will be the same has me in doubts. As said earlier, a lot of storylines have been completely changed to the point that they are unrecognizable. Sansa's for example is vastly different from her show counterpart's due to taking another character's role and removing the central elements of her Vale storyline (notably Harry the Heir). The plotline of Aegon and the Golden Company has been completely cut when it would necessarily affect many major and minor characters. Arianne was cut and the Dorne storylines were butchered beyond recognition. The show created the character of the Night King.

So much has changed between the two, stating that the endings will share similar beats would be the same as saying the MCU's Infinity War/Endgame duology/pseudo-finale is the same ending as the ending to the Marvel comics' Infinity Gauntlet storyline simply because in both the Snap is undone. Which is ridiculous: both worlds have changed far too much for one to simply be a copy-paste of the other anymore.

The show and the books have become two completely separate universes, a "Westeros 1" and a "Westeros 2", as Bryan Cogman put it.

But what also makes me doubt are the dubious statements on the ending. So I have compiled many quotes on the ending of the series, from GRRM and D&D, to show just how not so clear-cut it is.

It should be noted that, as far as I can see, only Benioff really implied the ending would be the same:

Luckily, we’ve been talking about this with George for a long time, ever since we saw this could happen, and we know where things are heading. And so we’ll eventually, basically, meet up at pretty much the same place where George is going; there might be a few deviations along the route, but we’re heading towards the same destination. I kind of wish that there were some things we didn’t have to spoil, but we’re kind of stuck between a rock and a hard place. The show must go on […] and that’s what we’re going to do. I think the thing that's kind of fun for George is the idea that he can still have surprises for people even once they've watched the show through to the conclusion. There are certain things that are going to happen in the books that are different in the show, and I think people who love the show and want more—want to know more about the characters, want to know more about the different characters who might not have made the cut for the show—will be able to turn to the books. So that's where we stand.

—David Benioff (x)

And even then there are caveats about there being differences.

There is even more circumspection about the two endings in other interviews:

You’re now at a point where you’ve caught up with the books. What does that mean for the future? Benioff: [...] We’ve had a lot of conversations with George, and he makes a lot of stuff up as he’s writing it. Even while we talk to him about the ending, it doesn’t mean that that ending that he has currently conceived is going to be the ending when he eventually writes it. Weiss: It’s like looking at a landscape and saying, “OK, there’s a mountain over there, and I know that I’m getting to that mountain.” There’s an event that’s going to happen, and I know that I’m moving in the general direction of that event, but what’s between where I’m standing now and that thing off on the horizon, I’m not totally sure. I’ll know when I get there, and then I’ll see what the terrain looks like around me and I’ll choose my path once I get closer to it. He figures a lot of this stuff as he goes. He always says he’s a gardener, not an architect.

(x)

Benioff and Weiss always knew this would happen. So they met with the novelist in 2013, between Seasons 2 and 3, to sketch out what Martin calls “the ultimate developments” after the books and show diverge. The upshot, they say, is that the two can coexist. “Certain things that we learned from George way back then are going to happen on the show, but certain things won’t,” says Benioff. “And there’s certain things where George didn’t know what was going to happen, so we’re going to find them out for the first time too.”

(x)

From George himself, I have only ever seen more nuanced and ambiguous statements about the books' ending vs. the show's:

Let me reiterate what I have said before. How many children did Scarlett O'Hara have? Three, in the novel. One, in the movie. None, in real life: she was a fictional character, she never existed. The show is the show, the books are the books; two different tellings of the same story. There have been differences between the novels and the television show since the first episode of season one. And for just as long, I have been talking about the butterfly effect. Small changes lead to larger changes lead to huge changes. HBO is more than forty hours into the impossible and demanding task of adapting my lengthy (extremely) and complex (exceedingly) novels, with their layers of plots and subplots, their twists and contradictions and unreliable narrators, viewpoint shifts and ambiguities, and a cast of characters in the hundreds. There has seldom been any TV series as faithful to its source material, by and large (if you doubt that, talk to the Harry Dresden fans, or readers of the Sookie Stackhouse novels, or the fans of the original WALKING DEAD comic books)... but the longer the show goes on, the bigger the butterflies become. And now we have reached the point where the beat of butterfly wings is stirring up storms, like the one presently engulfing my email. Prose and television have different strengths, different weaknesses, different requirements. David and Dan and Bryan and HBO are trying to make the best television series that they can. And over here I am trying to write the best novels that I can. And yes, more and more, they differ. Two roads diverging in the dark of the woods, I suppose... but all of us are still intending that at the end we will arrive at the same place. In the meantime, we hope that the readers and viewers both enjoy the journey. Or journeys, as the case may be. Sometimes butterflies grow into dragons.

—GRRM (x)

So when you ask me, "will the show spoil the books," all I can do is say, "yes and no," and mumble once again about the butterfly effect. Those pretty little butterflies have grown into mighty dragons. Some of the 'spoilers' you may encounter in season six may not be spoilers at all... because the show and the books have diverged, and will continue to do so. IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN ALL FIVE SEASONS AND READ ALL FIVE BOOKS, STOP HERE! Just consider. Mago, Irri, Rakharo, Xaro Xhoan Daxos, Pyat Pree, Pyp, Grenn, Ser Barristan Selmy, Queen Selyse, Princess Shireen, Princess Myrcella, Mance Rayder, and King Stannis are all dead in the show, alive in the books. Some of them will die in the books as well, yes... but not all of them, and some may die at different times in different ways. Balon Greyjoy, on the flip side, is dead in the books, alive on the show. His brothers Euron Crow's Eye and Victarion have not yet been introduced (will they appear? I ain't saying). Meanwhile Jhiqui, Aggo, Jhogo, Jeyne Poole, Dalla (and her child) and her sister Val, Princess Arianne Martell, Prince Quentyn Martell, Willas Tyrell, Ser Garlan the Gallant, Lord Wyman Manderly, the Shavepate, the Green Grace, Brown Ben Plumm, the Tattered Prince, Pretty Meris, Bloodbeard, Griff and Young Griff, and many more have never been part of the show, yet remain characters in the books. Several are viewpoint characters, and even those who are not may have significant roles in the story to come in THE WINDS OF WINTER and A DREAM OF SPRING.

GAME OF THRONES is the most popular television series in the world right now. The most pirated as well. It just won a record number of Emmy Awards, including the ultimate prize, for the best drama on television. It's an incredible production with an incredible cast and crew.

WINDS OF WINTER should be pretty good too, when it comes out. As good as I can make it, anyway. Which is a long way of saying, "How may children did Scarlett O'Hara have?" Enjoy the show. Enjoy the books.

—GRRM (x)

WINDS will be different in some ways, but will parallel the show in others. At this point, there are probably a dozen characters who are dead on the show but alive in the books, so it would be impossible for the two to remain the same. (Also, of course, there are characters in the books who have never even existed on the show, like Victarion Greyjoy, Jon Connington, Penny, Arianne Martell... )

—GRRM (x)

The showrunners note that they’re not entirely sure of Martin’s future storylines anyway (“George discovers a lot of stuff while he’s writing,” Benioff says). But more surprising is that Martin is likewise somewhat in the dark on the show’s ending. “I haven’t read the [final-season] scripts and haven’t been able to visit the set because I’ve been working on Winds,” Martin reveals. “I know some of the things. But there’s a lot of minor-character [arcs] they’ll be coming up with on their own. And, of course, they passed me several years ago. There may be important discrepancies.”

(x)

Benioff and Weiss had to carve their own course for the past couple of seasons, after outpacing Martin’s writing. “I’ve been so slow with these books,” Martin says, with palpable pain. “The major points of the ending will be things I told them five or six years ago. But there may also be changes, and there’ll be a lot added.”

(x)

Anderson Cooper: When it clear they were catching up, you told them over-- a kind of an overarching future of where you saw the-- the last two books going in terms of plot? George R.R. Martin: Yes. And, you know, the major beats. I mean, obviously, we're talking here about a-- several days of story conferences taking place in my home in Santa Fe, New Mexico. But there's no way to get in all the detail, all the minor characters, all the secondary characters. The series has-- has-- been extremely faithful, compared to 97 percent of all television and movie adaptations of literary properties. But it's not completely faithful. And-- and it can't be. Otherwise, it would have to run another five seasons. Anderson Cooper: And in essence, what's-- by the time the series is finished and your other two books are finished, y-- essentially it's gonna be two se-- different-- George R.R. Martin: Yeah. Anderson Cooper: Two different versions. George R.R. Martin: But, you know, I think that's true of every adaptation. We got all these Spidermen. Is it Stan Lee's Spiderman from the comic books? They're-- they're similar, but they're also different. Things happen to one that never happen to the other. Things are resolved differently. The girlfriends are shuffled and reshuffled. The-- the primary beats are there, the character is there, but it's a question of-- what are the choices you make to tell the story, which are partially dictated by your-- your medium. Anderson Cooper: I mean, do you worry that some fans will have Dan and David's ending in-- in their mind's eye? Would that-- would that-- you know, would that be a disappointment to you? George R.R. Martin: I don't think Dan and Dave's ending is gonna be that different from my ending because of the conversations we-- we did have. But they may be on certain secondary characters, there may be big differences. And, yeah, some of the people will have that. There will be a debate, I'm sure. I think a lot of people, who-- say, "Oh, Dan and Dave's ending is better than the one George gave us. It's a good thing they changed it." And there will be a lot of people who say, "No. Dan and Dave got it wrong. George's ending is better." And they will all fight on the internet. And there will be debate. And-- that's fine. I mean, it-- you know, the worst thing for any work of art, be it a movie or a book is to be ignored. (LAUGH)

(x)

How will it all end? I hear people asking. The same ending as the show? Different? Well… yes. And no. And yes. And no. And yes. And no. And yes. I am working in a very different medium than David and Dan, never forget. They had six hours for this final season. I expect these last two books of mine will fill 3000 manuscript pages between them before I’m done… and if more pages and chapters and scenes are needed, I’ll add them. And of course the butterfly effect will be at work as well; those of you who follow this Not A Blog will know that I’ve been talking about that since season one. There are characters who never made it onto the screen at all, and others who died in the show but still live in the books… so if nothing else, the readers will learn what happened to Jeyne Poole, Lady Stoneheart, Penny and her pig, Skahaz Shavepate, Arianne Martell, Darkstar, Victarion Greyjoy, Ser Garlan the Gallant, Aegon VI, and a myriad of other characters both great and small that viewers of the show never had the chance to meet. And yes, there will be unicorns… of a sort… Book or show, which will be the “real” ending? It’s a silly question. How many children did Scarlett O’Hara have? How about this? I’ll write it. You read it. Then everyone can make up their own mind, and argue about it on the internet.

—GRRM (x)

There is a general sense that things may be subject to change and that the ending, besides certain points, is not set in stone. Definitely not the certain "same ending" some say it will be.

We will also recall that, as mentioned in some of the quotes above, in an interview with The Guardian in 2011, GRRM described himself as a "gardener" type of writer who works out the story as he goes, as opposed to an "architect," who plots out all the details ahead of time, a characteristic which may also play out in changes in the ending notes he gave D&D ("George discovers a lot of stuff while he’s writing"). We can see this in how, for example, he came up recently with a big twist about a non-show character while writing Winds.

So I hope, in having written all this, that I have given some hope to the most pessimistic about the series' end, because I have seen many, especially in light of how the show wrote Daenerys, decide to repudiate the book series and accuse GRRM of what D&D did. While I want to make clear that I don't think GRRM is flawless, I think he deserves the benefit of the doubt based on his strong writing throughout the books series, so that at the very least he be judged on his own merits and own faults whenever Winds (tentatively 2020?) and Dream come out. I urge people to not conflate GRRM and D&D.

And most importantly:

Q: "Early on, one critic described the TV series as bleak and embodying a nihilistic worldview, another bemoaned its “lack of moral signposts.” Have you ever worried that there’s some validity to that criticism?"

GRRM: "No. That particular criticism is completely invalid. Actually, I think it’s moronic. My worldview is anything but nihilistic."

(x)

The number one question people ask me about the series is whether I think everyone will lose—whether it will end in some horrible apocalypse. I know you can’t speak to that specifically, but as a revisionist of epic fantasy—  GRRM: I haven’t written the ending yet, so I don’t know, but no. That’s certainly not my intent. I’ve said before that the tone of the ending that I’m going for is bittersweet. I mean, it’s no secret that Tolkien has been a huge influence on me, and I love the way he ended Lord of the Rings. It ends with victory, but it’s a bittersweet victory. Frodo is never whole again, and he goes away to the Undying Lands, and the other people live their lives. And the scouring of the Shire—brilliant piece of work, which I didn’t understand when I was 13 years old: “Why is this here? The story’s over?” But every time I read it I understand the brilliance of that segment more and more. All I can say is that’s the kind of tone I will be aiming for. Whether I achieve it or not, that will be up to people like you and my readers to judge.

[...]

I think you need to have some hope…we all yearn for happy endings in a sense. Myself, I’m attracted to the bittersweet ending. People ask me how Game of Thrones is gonna end, and I’m not gonna tell them … but I always say to expect something bittersweet in the end,” he said. “You can’t just fulfill a quest and then pretend life is perfect.

(x)

I urge my readers to have some hope. I know I will.

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