#BUT HER FAMILY HER FAMILY IS DEAD HER FAMILY IS GONE WHY WHY

[madrone33]

hey. hey. what the fuck

the angsty prequel to this (ik there's plotholes now but shh I'll fix it in a bit) that i accidentally made after getting possessed and writing for 3 hours straight for what was supposed to be a short hc post jfc. angst ahead (brain damage talk, temporary mcd), but there's a happy ending!

-

zeus saying he's going to make athena's "kingdom fall" doesn't make sense unless you consider. the lightning bolt she takes to the face gives her brain damage.

no one notices at first. Athena brushes it all off, goes to odysseus, oversees their long-awaited reunion. stays in their house after- because it's not like they'll be around forever, after all. and she can do her work just as well from down here- there's no need, to be honest, to go back to Mount Olympus. anyone who needs her comes to Ithaka, and she's content, for the first time in a very, very long time.

and then one day odysseus comes across her seizing on the floor.

she doesn't know the details of what happened- only remembers the first terrified scream of horror, remembers warm hands on her face and being carried to a bed, remembers Penelope's voice shaking as she drags a wet cloth across her forehead. comes to confused and mute minutes later, wandering around and stumbling into walls, unresponsive to the voices begging her to stop, to rest.

finally, she reaches a familiar room with a familiar face, and she touches Telemachus on the cheek lightly before collapsing onto the nearest chair. panicked voices chatter above her and calloused palms lift her face up to meet her own grey eyes, worried and scared, and it finally dawns on her that something has gone terribly wrong.

(later she will find out odysseus held her and sobbed the whole night, knowing more than anyone else what had happened to her and what it meant; he'd taken the throne at thirteen for the same reason, after all)

(later she will find out that penelope wrote to every ally they had within the hour for healers and literature; letting more than half their cleverly planned schemes fall through in exchange for it as she begged)

(later, she will find out that telemachus went running barefoot through the market, banging on doors and shouting for the healers and making the alarmed roused villagers sing prayers for her even though it was the middle of the night)

she recovers under the attention; court abandoned in favour of emergency, odysseus proclaims when he bullies her into placing her head in his lap so he can massage her aching head, not having left her side for six straight days in a row. penelope comes in every few hours, feeding her the olives from the wedding bed she lies in, unable to move, and brushes out her hair. telemachus barely shows during the days, but he comes in every evening without fail, curling up by her side and hugging her tight.

but it happens again. and again and again, and each time she regains consciousness in one of the royal family's arms, no matter where she was at the time. she never remembers it, only has the disgusting taste in her mouth and dried spit on her chin and tears in the eyes of those around her to know it happened.

she loses time as well- has no idea how long it's been happening until she becomes aware of the sound of Odysseus' calm, steady voice dragging her out of a trance, gentle fingers tracing her palm as they stand next to an unassuming tapestry. she'll be walking one moment and be lost to everything around her the next, staring at nothing.

Odysseus has done this all before, she realises one day, when he seamlessly pulls her out of another relapse and ropes her into a cheerful, easy conversation about goats that Athena keeps having stilted replies to.

"Do you know how to do this because-" She murmurs, and his eyes go wide and then grieving.

"Yes," He murmurs sadly, and Athena feels guilt settle in her belly at making him go through this again. He massages at her temples, and she closes her eyes, listening to the smile in his voice. "But there is no hardship, Pallas Athena. The sadness is that you have to go through this, not for the taking care of a cherished one."

"And anyways, Laertes suffered madness in the wake of a terrible fever and the stress of a famine," Penelope says without looking up from the newest scrolls they'd received. Athena feels the guilt worsen at the sleep bags under her eyes, when she knew the reason and just didn't have the courage to- "Your sudden collapses could be due to this one witch curse we found, or perhaps a-"

"It was Zeus."

The room falls silent as two heads slowly turn to look at her.

"What?" Odysseus says quietly, with barely withheld rage.

Athena takes a shuddering breath. "I am sorry, my Penelope, that I didn't have the courage to tell you before." Penelope leaves the desk to cross the room to her, and Athena feels tears prick at her eyes as the queen takes her hand. "But when I petitioned the court of Olympus, Zeus did not take kindly to everyone agreeing to me over him- and such was his punishment. To make-"

Her breath hitches in a sob and she notes with surprise that she's crying. Penelope and Odysseus are both crying with her, staring down in horror.

"To make my kingdom fall, he said," Athena whispers, shoulders jerking oddly as she forces it out, acknowledges what he'd done. "But my kingdom is the mind and-"

Odysseus lets out an animal cry of sorrow and descends on her, pulling her to his chest as she breaks down into shivering tears, the fear running through her as she realises the scale, the enormity of the consequences. Penelope stands by the bed and trembles with anger for a full minute, before she crumples too, crawling into their bed and pressing Athena tight between them.

"I forget things," She confesses in a whisper, shaking. "I blank out during fights, cannot recall certain strategies- I- I do not know how much worse-"

"Easy, darling, easy," Penelope whispers in a rush, stroking her face. Odysseus really is so lucky to have her as a wife, she thinks disjointedly, pressing into the gentleness. "Don't say that. It won't get worse."

"And even if it does," Odysseus continues, pressing a kiss to her cheek, where the lichtenberg scars cross her right eye, to her brow. "We will write down everything you know, copy it a hundred times and keep it safe. So you will never forget."

"And we will find you a Lytrakas owl, to keep you safe when we are no longer here to do it," Penelope murmurs, lips brushing Athena's neck as she speaks. She relaxes finally under the combined reassurances, at the solutions and possibilities that would work, finding a content she has never achieved before in their embrace. "We will keep you safe, our goddess."

And they do. When she teaches the children of Ithaka sparring, at least one of them is there, ready to intervene smoothly if they sense something wrong. They make the books they promised her, and she sends it to her realm, so she doesn't lose them. They cannot come with her when she has to travel- she wouldn't ask it of any of them- but Telemachus is always humming a hymn when she's away so she remembers where to return. When she dissociates in the middle of talking, Penelope guides her over to the loom so she can weave until she feels better, muscle memory kicking in enough for it to help the gradual lift of the fog.

Odysseus always somehow knows when she's about to have a seizure, in the forty years after that they spend together. In all her time in Ithaka, she never woke up from one without the familiar gravely cadence of Odysseus singing under his breath above her, head in his lap and Telemachus perched on her thighs or Penelope by her shoulders.

-

But it can't last forever.

Odysseus kicks her out of the room when he dies, Penelope's breath already slowing on the bed behind him, peaceful in the way that means she won't survive the night. They all know Odysseus will go with her, and Athena feels herself tremble as Odysseus gently guides her outside.

"You are not watching us pass," He tells her firmly, as she opens her mouth to scream at him. He's an old man now, but his eyes are the same, and the different versions of him flash in front of her eyes as he gives her a crooked smile. "I will not have you watch, are you crazy?"

"Odysseus," She chokes out, gripping tight onto her spear.

"My beautiful, wonderful goddess," Odysseus murmurs adoringly, leaning up to press their foreheads together. She sobs. "Thank you. For everything. And know-" His breath hitches. "-know that, for the rest of your existence, remember it- that you were loved."

"How can I ever forget?" She smiles back through the tears. "I will never be the same."

"My Athene," He whispers, swaying them back and forth. She closes her eyes, trembling, and pulls him into their last embrace, last touch.

"You will always be my favourite," She confesses, half-laugh, half-sob.

Odysseus smirks at that, a trace of smugness, then turns to a sobbing, chuckling Telemachus, who's also been kicked out, pulls them both in a hug. "We will meet again, my son," he murmurs. "But Penelope is waiting for me now. Goodnight."

He closes the door, two bright last flashes of smiles aimed at them as it shuts and Athena and Telemachus both fall to pieces.

Telemachus takes twice the care of her than his parents did, somehow juggling ruling the kingdom and spending as much time as he can with her as he can. His wife is sly and mischievous, more fox than owl- but Athena loves her too, just as she loves their children. Telemachus goes with a smile on his face and an arrow in his heart, having taken an arrow for someone else, holding Athena's hand as he laughs for the last time.

It is horrible and she wanders around desolately for days, grieving. But then she sees bright eyes spying on her from behind a bush, carefully watching her to see if she's alright and Athena smiles and goes back to continue the legacy.

-

For 500 years, Ithaka does not fall- when it does, she makes sure the grey-eyed children all make it off the island, scattering on the mainland as at last, her job is done.

Which means there is nothing left for her here, and it is time to go back to Mount Olympus.

She's met with teasing quips and pointed comments, but general ignorance, no one bothering to ask where she was. After almost six hundred years of care, it feels untethering and strange, but the grief of losing Ithaka makes her relieved for it, even if she has to lie down sometimes, press her face into the roots of the olive tree scattered about in her realm and pretend there are three sets of hands in her hair, a familiar voice humming above her.

How did you do it, she wants to ask Penelope. How did you survive knowing what you were missing, she wants to ask Odysseus. Will you sit with me one last time, she wants to ask Telemachus.

Eventually, she can no longer bear the quiet, and one evening she sets out and crosses the pantheon floor to go gently sit down in Apollo's room.

Artemis is there, slouched on the floor with mud in her hair and an arrow in her eye as Apollo chides her. They both look up when she comes in, bowing and worriedly asking if something was wrong.

"Nothing," she says, ignoring the pang of sadness that that would be the only reason she was here. But the idea of leaving back to the books written in Odysseus' horrible chickenscratch penmanship is worse, and she takes a tentative seat in the corner. "Continue your work."

They do so hesitantly, conversation slower and interspersed with bouts of asking her if she wanted ambrosia or a new dish or something while she was here. She declines.

She feels awkwardness radiating off all three of them as she leaves an hour later, but it doesn't stop her from coming back again, stubborn. She will hold a conversation this time- it has been two decades since Ithaka, but that is nothing to her, and she cannot have forgotten how so soon.

Apollo seems to have prepared for the same thing this time, lighting up with a pleased grin like he wasn't sure she would come. "Enter!" He says cheerfully. "Come here, give me your wisdom on this piece I've been composing- I know, I know, owls are not songbirds, but just see if you can help, it's driving me mad-"

Athena closes her mouth and listens to the melody quietly. Thinks about how Telemachus' third daughter would have spun it, added her Ithakan folk style to it, interspersed the perfection with carefree, imperfect beats.

"May I?" She asks, holding her hands out, and Apollo's mouth drops, even as he scrambles to hand her the lyre. She concentrates, trying to pull the melody out from the strings. "Here," she says, manifesting her spear and shield and handing it to an increasingly wild-eyed Apollo. "Bang them together. Create a tempo."

They create something of a passing song in the next few hours until Athena's headache makes its way to the forefront and she has to retreat. Apollo accompanies her across the floor to her room, pressing herbs onto her even as he chatters a mile a minute, excitedly going on and on about new ideas and begging Athena to come by again. She smiles, briefly, and promises to return when she is free, going back to her pallet under the olive trees.

(She cannot bear to sleep anywhere else.)

The next day, Apollo is busy creating new songs and she knows better than to disturb him. She turns and goes to his twin's realm instead, shedding her armour for bark and a bow. Artemis and her women look as equally terrified as Apollo did at the start, looking at her like she's lost her mind, but they all straighten up when Athena raises an eyebrow and silently descend on the night.

"You must teach me!" Artemis enthuses at the end of it. She does not do anything other than scowl often, but she looks more like her twin than ever now, as she beams up at her. "I never knew there were so many strategies, how much smoother-"

"Peace," Athena chuckles, amused. "I will teach you, sister. Next fortnight?"

"Aye," Artemis says, hair matted and covered in filth, eyes sparkling.

"Here," Athena says, taking out her own ribbon- one of the many she has from Penelope, braided in her hair from all those years ago- and turns Artemis around to tie her mess of a mane out of her eyes. "Do not impede your vision in the name of wildness."

"Okay," Artemis squeaks quietly, and Athena snorts and squeezes her shoulder as she departs.

She sits in Aephastus' forge next, watching him create weapon after weapon, with the best of each round being blessed onto a blacksmith in the mortal world.

"Come to see if my work is up to par, Pallas Athena?" Aephastus says self-deprecatingly, a flash of resigned hurt in his eyes.

"No. I wish to learn," Athena decides suddenly, pushing herself up and removing her helmet at the blast of heat that comes from the forge as she nears. "It is shameful, I think, that I know not how my own tools are made."

Aephastus stares at her with surprise, then his kind eyes crinkle into a smile. "Only if you let me replace that," He nods to her admittedly rather dented helmet. "I have been wanting to fix your armour to something respectable for centuries."

Athena laughs.

Of course, once it is done, she has to use it. It fills her with excitement she had almost forgotten, the idea of a good, difficult spar, and she barges into Aphrodite's realm and bangs on the edge of the bed with her new spear, making the occupants screech and jump in fright.

"Good evening," She nods at Aphrodite, who looks to the side and then back at her as if she'll find an explanation somehow, stunned. She turns to her brother, and tries on a grin. "Ares, my brother. Would you care to spar? Aephastus has gifted me this new set and I find myself eager to test it out."

"...Are you fucking possessed?" Ares asks her, flabbergasted, and she clicks her tongue and smacks him upside the head.

"Yes or no?" She says, crossing her hands.

"Y- yes, yes!" Ares blurts out, straightening up. He looks something approaching disbelieving excitement, a small, tentative grin appearing on his face. "You are... not joking, right?"

"Do I look like I joke?" Athena jokes, smiling. Ruffles his hair in a bout of fondness. "You are the only one who will actually give me a good fight, as erratic as you are. I look forward to it."

"What did I FUCKING MISS?" Aphrodite shrieks after her as she goes. "Wha- Athena, get back here, you better have not fallen in love while I wasn't looking-!"

But Athena's not ready to face Aphrodite just yet, so she takes advantage of their height difference and strides back to her realm as her sister chases her, shouting.

The next day, they meet in the arena, and Athena feels herself freeze up as soon as she steps in. Sees the lightning scorch marks on the ground she had almost forgotten, and cannot move.

"ATHENA!" Ares booms, snapping her out of it. "TODAY YOU WILL MEET YOUR DEFEAT AT MY HANDS AT LAST!"

"WHY ARE YOU SO ANNOYING," She shouts back automatically, and Ares bursts out in a peal of laughter, surprised out of him. She knows he has three aspects- the boyish glory-seeker, the soldier filled with bloodlust, the hardened warrior- but Athena thinks the first one suits him best.

He readjusts his grip on his sword and grins. "Begin!"

-

She continues this, finding a strange happiness she never had before in meeting all the other gods, major and minor. She'd never known how intimidated they all were by her, but they open up readily enough, bringing her peace for a little while as she sits with them.

(She avoids Aphrodite, who is getting increasingly more frazzled by the day as she fails to find a hidden lover that does not exist and then switches to trying to find Athena a companion when it is clear that there is no one, in a comic game of chase around the realms that is a great source of amusement to everyone else.

She avoids Hermes too, because it hurts too much to see him. But she leaves him a book of riddles once in a while, when he's away, and he always takes it.)

Hera walks in her room one day, with her train of peacocks and attendants.

"God-Queen," Athena bows, setting her weaving down.

"Athena," Hera nods back. "I hear you have been visiting your siblings."

Athena nods, confused. "Yes?"

Hera studies her and Athena shifts, wondering what she's seeing. "The Pantheon is no longer silent, you know. The Olympians meet in the court almost every day, sharing their gifts with each other. Something I have found out is because of you."

Athena has no idea where this is going.

Hera shifts closer, opening her mouth to say something, then her eyes catch on the weaving, widening in shock. "What is that?"

Athena looks down, also unaware of what exactly she'd made. Then her heart skips a beat in fear.

"No, no, no, no," Athena snaps to her feet, shaking her hands out in dismissal, trying to stop the impending damage. "This is not what you think it is."

Hera's eyes are getting wider and wider, a manic grin on her face. "Athena! A wedding veil? Do you-"

"No!" Athena interrupts. "No, Hera, it's nothing like that, please-"

"Nonsense!" Hera says, grabbing it from her and holding it to the light, grinning wider than Athena has seen from her in years. "You must have made it for a reason. Do not worry daughter, I know you are shy, I will handle it all."

"Hera, it really is not like that!" She pleads. "I was simply weaving- I made a fisherman's garb the other day as well, it does not mean I want to get out into the sea!"

"Have you made the rest of the outfit as well?" Hera says excitedly, ignoring her as she moves to the wardrobe to rifle through. "Oh, Athena, how beautiful! Is this what you would like to wear?"

She pulls out a men's wedding outfit and Athena stops protesting to stare in disbelief. When had she made that?

"I must go announce this to the others," Hera squeals, bangles jangling. "Oh, I had almost given up on you, dear, but you have made me so happy today! I would have arranged something for you so long ago, why didn't you tell me you were interested?"

"Because I am not," She groans, pulling her hands down over her face. "Hera, please, I do not even have anyone-"

"Easily remedied," Hera dismisses her with the wave of a hand as she strides off. "Oh Aphrodite, you won't believe what I just found in your sister's closet! Look!"

A deafening din rises from the crowd there and Athena is forced to tackle Hera to the ground.

She laughs, surprisingly, and tosses the outfit over to Aphrodite, who snatches it up with a scream of excitement. Athena is immediately flanked by a crowd of screaming gods, each talking over the other, and Athena has to bellow at them all for two hours before the misunderstanding is cleared.

"Oh, but you really have outdone yourself with this one," Aphrodite gushes appreciatively as she lands next to a panting Athena. She turns it back and forth. "So soft, and such patterns! The Ithakan style, yes?"

Then her smile drops like a stone as she hears her own words and freezes, and Athena's stomach swoops, heart skipping a beat as she stops breathing. Aphrodite turns to her slowly, cold horror in her eyes, realisation solidifying at the terrified, raw, pained expression on Athena's face.

"The Ithakan style," She repeats in a whisper, horrified grief creeping into her voice. "Athena-"

Athena snatches the outfit from her and closes herself off in her realm, breathing hard in the dim blue light of the olive tree orchard. She suddenly realises she's holding the robes against her chest and unfolds it hurriedly to look at them.

It is the Ithakan style. It is, in fact, a mix of Penelope's and Odysseus' wedding outfits, in her size.

She throws it into a trunk and screams.

-

She does not know if Aphrodite tells Hera, but the latter does not stop coming by every day to pester her for details of an imaginary wedding.

So now she has three gods to avoid.

-

But of course, the effects of her affliction cannot be hidden forever. She gets up one day from the Pantheon floor to retrieve the threads from her room to be used in the game they are playing, and feels the room swim in a familiar, hated manner, and she only has a moment to feel dread before she tilts sideways and falls.

When she regains consciousness, she feels for a moment the delicate hands on her cheeks, the weight of a young man on her belly, the gravely singing above her- and then it dissipates and she becomes aware of shouting all around her.

"Can you hear me? Athena, can you hear me?" Hera says, shaking her. "WILL SOMEONE FIND APOLLO?"

Athena moans and pushes off the hands on her body, bruising in their panic. She pushes herself up, ignoring the dizziness. "Do not bother."

"Athena, what on Gaia was that?" Ares demands, ashen. "Have I injured you? What-"

"It is of no concern," Athena snaps, getting to her feet and glaring at them, mortification blazing through her. "All I need is rest. Goodnight."

They shout after her, but she's already at her room, closing the shields back up. It nearly knocks her out again to do so, and she barely drags herself to her bed before she collapses.

"What are you staring at?" Hypnos asks her the next day, confused. Athena blinks and realizes she's standing between the thrones, facing an odd patch of wall and losing time.

"Nothing," She sighs, and hefts her spear and walks away.

She fends off all other questions, curt and snapping, and the others uneasily let it go. She has not forgotten her purpose, after all, and will not do anything less than a perfect job, even with this impediment.

Yet-

"Athena," Aphrodite shakes her, and Athena blinks as she comes to herself. It is night, Pantheon bathed in blue and both of them in their nightclothes. Aphrodite is crying and Athena's face is wet.

"What-?" She murmurs.

"You were calling out for Odysseus," Aphrodite whispers, sounding stricken. "Asking him to stop hiding from training. Then laughing with nothing and telling Penelope to stop tormenting your allies."

It hits her straight in the sternum, making her gasp with grief that hits her so hard it feels new, and oh, she misses them, she misses them, she misses them so.

She sobs, and Aphrodite brings her close, holding her as she shakes.

"What is happening, sister? Why is this happening? Please, tell us," Aphrodite pleads. "We only want to help." She pushes her back to stare at her. "It cannot be just for them- something else happened to you."

Athena cannot reply for weeping, and Aphrodite's face crumples on seeing her tears. "You loved them." She says, her own voice catching tears. "You loved them so much, didn't you? That's who the dress was for. Them."

Athena sobs louder and doesn't reply.

-

Zeus' eldest daughter has not talked to him for over eight hundred years.

He still burns with anger some days, on remembering her insolence, her disrespect for his orders. Yet, now it has cooled off and he rather misses her quiet presence, her wit. She is angry with him in turn, cold and formal when they talk, never meeting his eyes.

"How fares Athena?" He asks casually one day. Hera stops removing her earrings and looks up at him sharply- she's been frosty with him since that day as well, disapproving of his actions. "I have not seen her in quite some time."

"That is of your own design," Hera replies blandly. "She spends time often with her siblings now. I am quite proud of her for it, actually- it is no mean a feat to get the entire Pantheon to sit down and indulge in few games without bloodshed."

"Games?" Zeus frowns. "With the others? Why is this the first I'm hearing of it?"

"Well, if you left your realm ever, you would know." Hera says distractedly, shrugging as she takes off her necklace. "They gather in the courtroom, usually."

The wind blows in, blows out.

Zeus ponders on this in silence, thinking of what to do next. Perhaps he should extend the first hand, since she had followed all the rules. He remembers her on the ground, beaten and burning, one hand extended to beg him to let that insolent hero she had pinned all her hopes on leave Ogygia. Frowns again in discomfort at the memory.

Her gamble paid off. Even as the Greek Pantheon declined in power, the story of her hero persisted to give the gods power, to keep them remembered.

Wise Athena, he thinks fondly. Smarter than him, he can admit now.

Zeus is just about to ask Hera if Athena would appreciate a spar when the rustle of fabric past the door of their realm catches his attention.

"Who is there?" He calls out, and Hera turns as well to look. No one enters and they both look to each other with a frown.

Quick footsteps sound out and both of them push themselves to their feet immediately, armed and tense as they rush to the door.

"Athena?" Hera calls out, confused, as they look down over the empty courtroom, Athena pacing erratically silently alone in the middle, no lights on. She does not reply. "Athena!"

Zeus feels foreboding creep up on him as they carefully walk down. "What are you doing up, Athena?" He calls out, voice authoritative. Hera glares at him, and he amends his tone, gentling it. "Is something the matter?"

Athena does not stop walking, at that same hurried pace, turning around at the end of the hall and continuing back towards them, ignoring his words. Zeus feels irritation spark, but the sudden glimpse of his daughter's eyes makes the words die on his tongue, unseeing and glazed over. She does not have her armour on, and her hair is tangled and open, he suddenly realises, along with the growing certainty that something is wrong.

And then Athena drops to the ground and starts seizing.

"ATHENA!" They scream as one, and all the gods of the Pantheon come awake, lamps catching fire as they all come stumbling out of their rooms and realms. Zeus reaches out and holds her hands down as she starts clawing at herself, drawing blood. The others start shouting and crying around them, Athena's head snapping back and forth gruesomely, eyes bleeding ichor. "Athena, gather yourself!" He shouts at her. "Cease this- cease this at once, you are stronger than this!"

"She cannot hear you!" Hera cries, falling to her other side, trying to straighten Athena out from the fetal position she is curling into with painful, stuff jerks. "She never does- she doesn't-"

"This has happened before?" Zeus bellows, outraged. His answer comes in the form of Ares pulling her weapons off her body, the ones who can't help holding onto each other and hiding their faces in each other's shoulders or staring at Athena with fear as they sob.

Her arm slips Zeus' grip and swings at him erratically before he can grab it again. It nearly knocks him down, so powerful in its animal madness that he actually feels his aspect waver to half its size for a moment- but he is her father and he pulls himself together enough to stay standing, pinning her down again.

"No, let her go!" Apollo shouts as he sits down besides them in his night robes, flipping through an old book of some kind, barely holding in his own panic and fear. "Don't hold her down, give her space."

Zeus grimaces but lets her go, feeling nausea and fear rise within him as she writhes and twists, unhearing of Hera's desperate sobs for her to stop. "What is happening to her?" He demands, unable to watch. He is furious, lightning blazing in his hands as he itches to find the culprit, to find who dared to do this. "Who did this to her?"

"I do not know," Apollo says horrifically, lips pressed thin, eyes flicking up to her and then back down to the book. "But I found this in her realm- she apparently is aware of it, this is some sort of book of instructions on the affliction-"

"Give me that," Zeus growls, snatching it away, and flipping through it. "Go get a bed," He instructs, the other Olympians springing up to do so immediately, desperate to help. "Olive- olive branches, she wakes to branches. Get water- no, get ambrosia, get a cloth to wipe her face. A change of clothes. A cold compress, if she has fever. It will stop on its own, let it run its course- Muses, what is this?"

"A lullaby," Euterpe says, pulling the book down to scan it. "From old Ithaka, if I'm not mistaken."

The gods all stop and stare at her. "Ithaka?" Zeus repeats, flipping to the front of the book. "Who has written this-"

"PENELOPE!" Athena screams suddenly, making them all jump in fright. Her back arches to a painful degree, spit running down the side of her mouth as her eyes roll back in her head. "PENELOPE, TELEMACHUS-"

Aphrodite puts her hands over her ears and squeezes her eyes shut, just as Athena takes a deep breath in and screams louder than before, "ODYSSEUS!"

(In life, he had only failed her once. But now he is dead, and cannot come.)

"Odysseus, please," She moans, in the old Greek that has not been used in decades. "You promised to help, please- Penelope, where are- where is- Telemachus, please-"

Zeus feels his heart break as proud, strong Athena breaks down on the floor, calling for mortals clearly much dearer to her than they thought. But it's not the end of it- he flips through the book again, desperately searching for something to stop this, a cause, an enemy- and then he sees his own name.

Curse proud Zeus, may his life never be happy, may his legacy forever be tainted, Odysseus has written, the letters harsh and burning with fury, even though the curse means nothing from a mortal, even though he risked the ire of the gods writing it. Below it, in what must be Penelope's neat handwriting, an equally furious and clipped diagnosis is penned- brain damage, extensive but occasional, caused by a lightning bolt to the face, that targeted her realm's power and left her with seizures, memory loss and dissociation.

A lightning bolt to the face.

Zeus stands there numbly, as the Pantheon scrambles and chatters worriedly around him, hesitantly singing along to the lullaby in the book as Athena continues to shake, unresponsive. His fault. It is his fault that she is like this, that she is left reduced to calling for dead mortals, crying blood over her siblings' feet.

He did not mean to, he thinks, feeling small and pathetic and monstrous. He did not mean for this to happen- only wanted to teach her a lesson, keep his pride; had not meant for her realm to sustain damage for so long. He thought she'd healed. He thought she hadn't been hurt, past the scar on her face that he'd felt vaguely guilty about, from time to time.

How stupid he was.

"Athena," He whispers, aching to reach out, but she screams again and it's drowned out completely. His daughter. All his own, no longer his- because she was never angry at all, these past years; she simply no longer saw him as her father. And why should she, when he has done the unforgivable, when he has done what no other had managed to do, and broken her.

What has he done?

"We are here," Hera says desperately, taking Athena's head in her lap. Ares sings creakily next to her, offtune and shaking. "We are here, love."

"Odysseus," Athena wails, unseeing. "Penelope, Telemachus."

Zeus steps back to let the others rush in, each providing their own solutions, some calling to Athena entreatingly to guide her back to herself. He is not needed here- he does not deserve it, and knows not what more damage he will wreak.

I am sorry, he wants to tell her, as froth escapes her mouth like a rabid dog. I am so sorry, I beg forgiveness, my daughter, please let me fix it.

But she cannot hear him and Zeus raises his head to look for Hermes instead. The messenger god is standing at the very back, well out of view, with a blank face as he meets Zeus' gaze. He feels a surge of fury at the lack of caring, before he remembers that Athena's hero and his son were descendants of Hermes- and sees past the facade to see the other's gods multiplied distress at that fact, unable to come forward to help without possibly making it worse with the likeness.

Zeus inclines his head and then tilts it towards Hades pointedly. Hermes twitches in surprise, then nods determinedly, running off.

Zeus exhales and looks back at Athena as she finally calms, breathing hard. Shoulders slump in relief, frightened muttering taking its place- this wasn't supposed to happen to gods, to Olympians.

Zeus steps forward and brushes her hair out of her eyes as Athena loses consciousness, as they pull her onto a makeshift palanquin and prepare to take her to her room.

"I am sorry," He whispers to her, but it is far, far too late.

[rosenclaws]

Would you Fall in Love with Me Again (Alternate) || Worst!Logan x Reader

I will fall in love with you over and over again I don't care how, where, or when No matter how long it's been, you're mine

warnings: angst to fluff, description of violence, Wade being wade, he calls you princess

wc: 2.5k

a/n: This is the alternate plot to the other fic I wrote of the same name. You can find that here! I just really liked both plots and I think this turned out pretty good :) This is also 1k words more than the other one idk what happened there lol

Logan was having a really shitty day. All he wanted was to get drunk but some asshole in red spandex decided to come and ruin his day. Now he's sitting in someone's fucking hideout with no hope of getting out of this hell hole. At least there's booze here.

"You always take shit that doesn't belong to you?" He growls as he takes another chug.

"Fuck off." He turns to berate the unknown voice but stops dead in his tracks.

He sobers up real fucking quick as he takes in the figure before him. Without thinking your name slips from his lips. It feels so foreign coming from him. He hasn't said your name in years.

"Logan?" You take a step forward, could this really be him? No...I can't.

Your Logan would never be caught dead in that uniform. He refused to wear it, no matter how much you begged him to wear it. But this man, he just felt so familiar.

“Thor!” Your attention snaps to the other man in red.

As the commotion begins you slip back into the shadows. You don’t bother to listen to whatever nonsense is coming from the guy in red. Laura brought them here.

You knew she had a Logan, just like you. Except her Logan died. You didn’t know he could. It made you think about your Logan. They sounded pretty similar. Mean, angry, drunk. But had that softer side almost no one else saw but a select few. Your eyes land on the Wolverine standing by Red.

He hasn’t taken his eyes off of you. Maybe this was him. You want it to be him, but that little glimmer of hope refuses to shine. What if its not. You can’t lose him again. You think back to that night. That awful night.

He was going off to the bars again and you all asked him to stay. You begged him for one night to stay home with the team, with you. But he walked away. It was the dead of night when you heard them. You had been waiting for Logan to come home when you heard the footsteps and the shouting.

In a blink of an eye everything was gone. Friends dead. Mansion destroyed. You had fought back as best you could but they killed everyone. Everyone except you. You don’t know how or why you survived but apart of you wished you hadn’t. Then your thoughts drifted to Logan. What would happen when he came home? What if they had gotten to him too?

Before you could even think of finding him. Some assholes in these weird suits showed up. Zapping you with some thing and sending you here. Its been a long time since then. The void was your home now and these people were your family. Every day you wished you could go back to your world, find your Logan. But it seems he might have been brought back to you.

“I know this movie is R rated but if you two could keep the eye fucking to a minimum that would be great.” Red pipes up.

“Shut the fuck up.” Both you and Logan say. Glaring at the loudmouth man.

“Aww how cute, twining!.” He coos at Logan who raises his fist, ready to stick three claws right into his face. Red lets out a shriek and runs to hide behind you.

“What the fuck?” You ask as he peeks over your shoulder.

“Sorry honey bunches but I’m not ready to go another round with peanut over there so you’re my human shield.” You raise your eyebrow at Logan who puts away his claws.

“Fucking coward.” He stares at you before shaking his head and leaving.

“How rude, you think he’s be happy to see you and we’d get one of those notebook pride and prejudice style romance scenes.” He says before leaving you alone.

Seemingly unaware of the bomb he had dropped on you. A plan forms but you don’t pay any mind. So this is him. That is your Logan. He’s so different. Sure he was never the nicest man but he just seemed, broken now. Like all hope and love had been drained from his mind. Leaving only rage in its wake.

As night falls you see him outside, drinking by the fire. Laura sits with him. You wonder what it’s like for her to see him. If it was as jarring for her as it feels for you. Slowly you walk outside, not wanting to interrupt their conversation. Catching only a few words here and there. When Laura leaves he calls out.

“Whoever you think I am, you got the wrong guy.” She turns, catching your gaze for a moment before looking back at him.

"You were always the wrong guy." As she walks away you slowly walk towards him.

This isn't the reunion you expected. When you imagined seeing him again it was a lot nicer. You would find your way out of here and go home, find him and tell him how much you missed him.

"You just gonna stand there?" Logan's voice feels so much colder.

Though you see the instant regret in his eyes as he looks at you. He darts around before staring back down at the fire. You make your way over and sit on the log next to him. His sleeves are ripped and his suit bloodied. This was the suit you never thought you'd see on him.

"Logan, is it really you." You reach out to touch his cheek but he ducks his head away from you.

"Please, I've been dreaming of this day ever since I landed in his hell hole. Tell me that this is real." He can barely meet your eyes as he swirls the brown liquid in the bottle around.

He nods his head. A small part of him says to lie. Look you in the eyes and tell you he's not from the same universe. That he isn't the Logan who abandoned you, walked away from you. But fuck has he missed you.

"You look different, tired. Can it really be you?" You say softly as you turn your body towards him, moving closer. The grip on his bottle tightens as he builds up the courage to look at you. You're just as beautiful as he remembered.

"I...I'm not the man you remember." He says lowly. His face feels heavy in your hands. Like he's letting you bare the weight he's been holding.

"You're still my husband." You hum as you bring your other hand to scratch behind his ear.

"No, I've changed. I'm not the husband you remember." He closes his eyes, relishing in your touch. You used to do this to calm him down.

"Princess..." He takes your hands away from his face.

"I've done things. Horrible things. I...I'm no hero. I wanted to be one, for you but..." He stops.

"I was weak. But I've missed you. Every fucking day I think about you." The angry quips and drunken growls were gone. This was the Logan only you got to see. The tired, broken, vulnerable Logan.

"Would you still love me? Would you fall for me again? If you knew." He whispers. He's terrified of the answer. He became a monster. He didn't have the team or Charles or you to ground him anymore.

"What did you do my love?" You ask. His eyes darken, head hanging in shame.

"I came home and you were all dead. Every single one of you. I-" He stops, the memories pouring into his head.

"I looked for your body, through the smell of blood and death I could still smell your perfume. But I couldn't find you." He remembers staining his clothes with blood. Hands soaked as he searched the mansion for you.

"When I couldn't find you, I thought they had taken you. To experiment or something. So I tracked them down. I found them and I killed them." His eyes lit with a fiery rage. Tears were pooling in your eyes as you listened to what your husband had to go through.

"I killed every last one of them. Hunted them down until I was sure they were all dead for what they did. But I couldn't find you. You were gone and I didn't even have a body to bury." He spits.

He takes his hands away from you, closing himself off again as he chugs the rest of the bottle. Old habits die hard.

"After they were all dead, I couldn't rest. I was so angry. So I kept killing. Didn't matter who. I left a trail of blood and turned the whole world against mutants." He laughs bitterly as he tosses the bottle over his shoulder.

It shatters and a piece digs itself into his shoulder. He barely even notices. Like the pain is something he's used to at this point. Gently you take the piece and tug it out.

"So much for being a hero huh?" He looks at you, expecting the worst as he builds back the walls he had just taken down.

"Logan..." To his shock you weren't angry or disgusted. You were crying. Tears are falling down your face, a look of utter heartbreak as you see the ghost of the man you once knew.

"I'm so sorry." You cry as you wrap your arms around him. He's stiffens at your touch. Your sobs break his damn heart.

"Please don't cry princess," He begs.

"I lived. That night I survived and I tried to find you but they sent me here." Logan tenses. Those bastards sent you here. Alone and afraid. A part of him wants to tear those fuckers limb from limb, but the other part knows that if you hadn't been sent here. You'd be dead. He takes your face and wipes away the tears.

"I'm not worth crying over. Shedding tears for a monster..."

"My husband is not a monster!" You say angrily.

"I told you before I'm not your fucking husband anymore!" Logan snaps back.

You wipe your eyes and stuff your hand into your pocket. Logan's breath hitches as he sees your wedding ring. It wasn't much, he couldn't afford the diamond he thought you deserved. Instead he made it, carved the band from a piece of wood and found the prettiest gem he could.

"Are you not the man who gave this to me?!" You shout.

"Till death do us part Logan. I'm not dead, I'm right here. I've been waiting to see you again for years." You take the ring and shove it against his chest.

His hand curls around yours. You were sick of this, you love this man more than life itself. When will he get that? You never wanted the hero, you want Logan.

"If you're not my husband anymore than take it back." His hand grabs your wrist, refusing to let you go. He reaches into his suit, around his neck is a chain and sitting between his dog tags was his ring.

The one that matched yours. He says your name again. This time much quieter, much sadder. There's no doubt in his mind that he isn't good enough for you. He's never been enough for you. The day you said your vows chased away those fears but they always lingered.

Then he lost you and he had just been repeating it in his head over and over again since then. But now you're here, alive and somehow you're looking past it all. Somehow, you still love him.

"Don't you get it Logan. I love you. I love you so much it hurts." You sink to the ground and Logan follows.

Sweeping you up in his arms, protecting you from the dirt and leaves. You're in his lap, hands caressing his face as he holds onto you, arms wrapped around your waist.

"I'd pick you over and over, I don't care how long its been or who you think you are now. You will always be my husband and I will always love you." You lean your forehead against his. Closing your eyes you just take it in. This is real. You’ve found each other again and you won’t let go ever again.

“I’ve fucking missed you.” He growls as he smashes his lips onto you. His hands travel anywhere he can touch.

It’s been so long since he’s felt so desperate. His hand cups the back of your head as he leans you back onto the ground. Crawling over you as he uses his elbows to prop himself up. Your hands are tangled in his hair as he deepens the kiss. Breathless you pull away, ready to kiss him again. Footsteps grab both of your attention. Logan covers you as best as he can as he unsheathes his claws.

“Woah there, let us get the intimacy coordinator here before the two of you start the devils dance.”

“Shut the fuck up Wade.” Logan growls as he sits back up. You try and avoid Wade’s gaze as you sit up.

“I didn’t know they made Viagra for 200 year old men.” He says while unashamedly staring at Logan’s crotch.

“Get the fuck out Red.” You hiss.

“Sorry angel, big fan by the way, just came out here to check on peanut.” Logan makes a move to get up and Wade jumps back.

“Fine jesus sorry for being a concerned friend!” He huffs before marching back to the hideout.

“Does he ever shut up?” You ask and Logan grunts.

“No.”

The fire has been slowly dying and the light is fading fast.

“We’re leaving at sunrise for Cassandras. We’re getting out of here.” Logan looks at you with unease. He just got you back and now you’re going to risk your life again.

“We could stay here. This place ain’t so bad.” Not when you’re here. He could make this place a home if you’re with him.

“They need you Logan, they don’t stand a chance without you.” You hum as you pick a leaf out of his hair.

“What if I lose you again? I just got you back.” He can’t let you slip through his fingers.

“You won’t lose me my love. I swear. Laura believes in you and so do I.” He thinks about Laura. The girl who lost her own version of him. Whoever that man was, he was a hero. If he could be a fraction of him, then maybe he could prove he’s more than what he’s become. You love him but he could be the man he always wanted to be for you. He could be proud of the suit , of his title. He can make you proud.

“Okay. But you’re staying by my side the whole time.” You smile and kiss him once again. Sighing as you get to relish being in the arms of your lover again.

“Deal. Now, let’s get some rest.” You guide him to your bed, he curls up next to you.

Burying his face in your chest as you try and sleep. Logan's hold on you is iron clad, he's afraid that when he wakes tomorrow you won't be here, that this was all some strange dream. You place your hand over his, cooing soft words in his ear until he relaxes.

"I love you Logan." You whisper as you close your eyes. Ready to face whatever comes tomorrow with your husband by your side.

[srslylini]

I have some thoughts about the idea of forgiveness and moving on we see in media and fans. The thoughts mostly come from being in therapy and spending time with people who specialize in those fields and helped me come to terms with my own pain.

This can very well be taken in general but is mostly about Vi.

Right. So.

Vi is a genuinely interesting character, who has gone through hell and back to put it lightly. She lives in conditions in the undercity that has people who don't live in them wear masks to handle them. She grew up and saw her parents die, which means she had to step up. Vander did adopt her, her sister, Mylo and Claggor but Vander still put a lot of responsibilities on Vi. She was told she cannot be selfish when people look up to her.

Then, of course, the entire act 1 of season 1 happens, which in itself is already very much and not something that should have ever happened to anyone, let alone a kid/teenager. She then, on TOP of all of this, got thrown into Stillwater after seeing her entire family die (and presumed Powder also as dead, although she continued to hope), where she was canonically beaten, starved, put into isolation and... the rest is up to interpretation because I guess the writers did not care. But that interpretation is not a good one.

What I am trying to say with all of this is that Vi has been put through so much by the system and by people (Enforcers get a special mention here) all around her.

This gets me to the point. I see a lot of people, the writers themself even, talk about how Vi needs to (or already did) forgive and move on. And I just wonder where this idea comes from?

In all my time in therapy, no matter what and who I talked about, you know what I have never heard? That I need to forgive.

What I heard instead was rather close to this:

"What happened was not your fault. It happened and can't be changed. But there is still something you can do, because you stand here now. You can imagine yourself back then and guide yourself. Hold yourself and tell the younger version of you that what happened isn't ever going to be fine but that you are still here and that you need to be kind to yourself." She told me "take the hand of your younger version and walk her through it because in the end it will have always happened but you can choose to help yourself"

There is a lot more she told me, but that is between her and me. What I am trying to say with this is that not once did I ever get told that I need to forgive the people involved. I am also not trying to say that doing this works for everyone, because health does not work this way. The point I am making is that I find it incredibly weird that we came to the point of saying that the only way to let go is to forgive, when that could not be further from the truth.

I would say understanding it happened and being kind to yourself does a lot more than trying to forgive people who hurt you so much that it ends in you being broken to what seems beyond repair (it isn't I have learned that much, lol). That's what my therapist taught me.

Which brings me back to Vi and why I find the notion of "she needs to forgive and move on to get better" or the writers writing "she forgave and moved on" so weird.

What happened to her is not something that can be forgiven. And... that is okay. Or it should be okay. But for some reason it isn't?

I mean if you can and want to forgive that is for you to do but to say that it is a (or even THE) way to move on does not sit right with me. At all.

[baocean]

no rest for the wicked

chapter one - my sisters dead and my brother’s a murderer

masterlist | next chapter

it didn’t feel like sarah had died. you felt angry, scared, betrayed, not numb. you didn’t feel nothing.

since you had been able to remember, you had felt the same way she did. you weren’t identical, sometimes people were even surprised to find out you were twins. you didn’t know how or why it happened. but when sarah was upset, the same looming feeling fell over you. when sarah had a headache, so did you. when sarah broke her leg in the third grade, suddenly your right leg started hurting too.

you didn’t feel like sarah had died, but maybe you never would. you couldn’t wrap your mind around the thought.

you were there when your dad was told the boat sarah and john b were escaping on had flipped during a storm.

you could only remember croaking, “she’s gone?”. the rest you had blacked out, couldn’t remember it at all.

the rest of your family was grieving, processing that sarah had died. you were still waiting for her to walk through the door, asking to borrow one of your tops or for you to braid her hair.

she was the one you would turn to when things got shitty in your house, when rafe started acting like…rafe again.

you couldn’t put your pain on your already grieving little sister, you hated rose, and you didn’t want to go anywhere near your brother or dad.

you couldn’t tell your friends of the events that had gone down.

you’d been huddled in your room for a week. you hadn’t spoken to anyone in a week.

at least, until rafe hauled into your room. saying something about the sheriff’s office, going to provide a statement.

you flinched whenever he came near you, the sight of him murdering someone putting a sort of strain on your relationship.

he and you had been close before, probably closer than you and sarah. there was a three year difference between the him and you girls, but it didn’t matter. he was your best friend, brother, bodyguard all in one. no one messed with you, simply because you were rafe’s little sister. he was your best friend, crazy antics and all. until crazy antics turned into homicide.

all you felt was anger and fear towards him. he had no right. sure, you didn’t particularly want sarah running off with john b and taking the gold, but there were other ways to solve it. he didn’t have to end someone’s life because of it.

you sat in the backseat of your dad’s car, your brother and him chatting along like nothing bad had happened.

you silently sat in the car, silently waited to give your statement, one your dad made you rehearse after you watched the bullet go into peterkin’s body and kill her.

that was the last time you saw your sister. quite a traumatizing twenty four hours, you’d say.

you told ward and rafe you’d walk home, too much to bare being around them any more.

it was a nice walk home, the birds chirping and the sound of the waves hitting the rocks. it was a nice walk, until jj pulled up next to you in the twinkie. you flinched.

“yn?” he called out the window.

you hadn’t seen him since that day on the tarmac. you hadn’t spoken to him in two weeks, he was too busy chasing gold to find some bathroom or dark room to pull you into.

everyone knew everyone on this island. you’d known jj and his friends since you were little kids. not that you ever spent your time together or anything, just knew of them.

you’d like to think the two of you were civil, at best, until rafe found out he kind of liked to beat the shit out of john b and his friends.

so for a while, people genuinely steered clear of any place they knew you and jj would be at, because it always ended the same way, yelling and fighting.

sarah, God bless her, used that to her advantage. just let jj wander around tannyhill until someone caught him while she dug around in rafe’s drawers.

you had found him messing with the trinkets in the front hall, ripping him a new one almost immediately. you must have just caught each other on a bad day, because an hour later you were throwing jj his shorts and pulling your bikini back on.

“don’t tell anyone about this.” you threw his way, he just smirked.

“trust me, i wasn’t planning on it.”

you’d think that was the only time, that you guys just needed to get it out of your system. but you didn’t stop after that. quite frankly, you didn’t want to, but you weren’t going to admit that anytime soon. so the cycle continued, sneaking over after dark or slipping away from whatever gathering you were both at.

and then, jj watched your brother kill someone, watched you cower in fear as your dad pulled you away, as you cried, as you did nothing about it.

right now, you didn’t want to deal with that. didn’t want to face him after what you both witnessed. so, you kept walking.

“you okay?” he asked, calling out again. you nodded your head, but that was all.

“yn, are you all right?” the twinkie pulled to the side of the road in front of you, stopping you in your tracks.

jj got out of the car, slamming the car door and fixing his hat as he walked over to you.

“seriously, are you good? you’re starting to scare me.” he stepped in front of you.

“my sister’s dead and my brother’s a murderer, how do you think i feel?” you threw your arms up in defeat. “just leave me alone.”

“look, listen. i’m sorry about sarah, you know i am. if there’s anything i can do, really. but, you know who killed peterk-”

“jj! i’m fucking serious, leave me alone! sarah is dead! she’s dead! and you probably had some part in it. i want nothing to do with you.” you snapped, yelling in his face.

he stood there for a second, stunned. he’d heard you yell at him before, hell, you’ve screamed in his face more times than he could count. but you’ve crossed a line on this one.

“my best friend died too? you know that right? you’re not the only one grieving. and rafe…your fucking brother killed someone! who’s side are you even on?” jj yelled back, pointing a finger at you.

you shook your head and gave a weak smile. of course jj wouldn’t understand. rafe was bad, but he needed help. real help. you couldn’t do anything about it, partially because no one in your family would let you, partially because you didn’t want to.

jj looked at you for another second, then shook his head and stormed back to the twinkie, slamming the door and speeding off.

it wasn’t for another week, when your friends dragged you to a party, that you saw him again.

the boneyard was a popular pogue spot, not a place for kooks, nor were they usually invited.

your friend malia got invited by the boy she was seeing, who then mysteriously disappeared half way through the night.

your two other friends saw some girls they went to middle school with, deciding to leave you alone.

you didn’t want to come to this party, anyways. malia had practically dragged you out of bed, disregarding any argument you made in the process.

jj was across the beach, staring daggers into you over his cup.

you used to spend a lot of nights like this, secretly looking at each other all night, then conveniently heading home at the same time. ending up in some bathroom or locked bedroom at the chateau, then going back to hating each other the next day.

he was sat with his friends, kie giving you a look just as hostile, pope giving you one of sympathy.

you sat on a log, swirling a full cup of alcohol and juice in your hand. you weren’t in the mood to drink.

a boy, a tall brunette, came and sat next to you. gave you a poor attempt of sympathies about your sister, you wanted to roll your eyes.

twenty minutes later, he’s trying to get you to go somewhere ‘quieter’, even if half the beach has been abandoned by now.

you stood up, ready to leave him sitting there, but the guy shot up too.

“why don’t we get outta here? my place isn’t far.” he spoke, smooth like butter. sounded more like nails on a chalkboard to you.

“i’d rather shoot myself.” you dead panned, nodding your head along with your words.

“you’re a little firecracker aren’t you?” he laughed, and you gave him a look that rang ‘you’re a complete joke’.

the guy took a step close, trying to pull you in and run a hand up your side.

on instinct, you put his hands on his shoulders, your knee came in contact with his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. it was a little ‘party trick’, as rafe called it, one he taught you a few years ago.

he was knocked back for a second, anger flashing in his eyes, taking two steps toward you.

curling your hand into a fist, you watched as he got closer, waiting for the perfect moment.

“get the fuck away from her, max.”

‘ahhh max, that’s his name’ you thought. you turned to look at jj, who had appeared at your side without making a sound.

max put his hands up in defense, giving you one last look. he turned, walking away, accompanied by a small limp, to presumably find another victim.

you turned to the blond, shaking your head. “i didn’t need you to do that. i can handle myself.”

“oh really?” he chuckled, looking away for only a second before turning back to you.

“i would have broke his fucking nose,” you gave him an innocent, sweet smile, “so yes, i can handle myself.”

“jeez, you really are a firecracker.” he’s chuckling again, and you’re thinking of breaking his nose instead of max’s.

“i thought i was rafe cameron jr?” you tipped your head to the side. the name tasted sour in your mouth. you knew jj called you that as an insult, but now it really was something to be ashamed of.

you let him look down at you all guilty, then stepping around him.

“wait. wait, okay i gotta tell you something. something big.” jj grabbed your arm, pulling his phone out with the other hand.

he tapped a few buttons, then showed the text messages between him and the unknown number, a picture of your sister and her boyfriend attached.

“they’re alive, yn,” jj mumbled, “they’re in the bahamas.” you were trying to listen, but the ringing in your ears was so loud you barely heard him.

tears were pricking your eyes instantly, knees wobbly. you wouldn’t let jj maybank, of all people, see you like this. you turned away from him, face scrunching up as you cried.

you didn’t believe it for a moment, believing this was some sick joke jj was pulling on you. but you turned to take another look at the photo, seeing the outfit sarah was wearing, your top, the same one she was wearing when she had gone missing.

“hey, hey this is a good thing. sarah’s alive.” jj put a hand on your shoulder.

“when did you find out?” you asked him.

“this morning, at school.”

“oh my god.” you mumbled.

jj hung his head, fidgeting with the cap on his head. he was at a loss for words, not sure how to comfort you.

“oh my god, i have to go home and tell my dad.” you muttered, going to take a step around him.

“yea, let your psychopath brother know that sarah’s alive. great idea, yn.” jj shook his head.

“i’m sorry? do you want me to keep the fact my sister isn’t dead a secret?” you recoiled, chuckling in between words.

“yeah, actually. until we figure out what’s going on.”

“fuck you. my dad can help get them home.”

jj just scoffed. “okay, sweetheart.”

“don’t call me that.” you snapped at him, giving him a look.

“thought you liked it?” jj’s smirk made you re-consider punching him in the face. you just found out your dead sister wasn’t dead, and he was making a sex joke.

your loose presence of self control kind of reminded you of rafe. you two were the ones who were always compared to each other growing up. never you and sarah, never you and wheezie, always ‘you and rafe act so similar, it’s scary’. sarah would pick flowers for your mother and have lemonade stands for the neighborhood. you and rafe got into fights and defied authority any chance you got.

and with the thought of rafe, the memory of sheriff peterkin bleeding out flashed behind your eyes. you didn’t want to become that. you were sure you couldn’t, but your anger resembled rafe’s a little too much. so, instead, you scoffed and left jj standing there.

two days later, your brother and your dad left for the bahamas. they wouldn’t tell you anything about why they were going or what they planned on doing there.

the day after that, your abdomen started to hurt.

a/n - desperately feeding into the sisters are your best friend trope bc i have brothers 😔 anyways short chapter i promise there’s better one’s being plotted on as i type this

taglist - @ethanthequeefqueen @rafegetinmybed @str4wb3rrym1lkl0v3r @cassiewritessalot @murdockcastleslut @lilygrxcem @arabellamaybank @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @dr3amgrlll

[elriel-fireheart]

The headache powder.

Elain gifted Azriel legit medicine on behalf of the inner circles' shenanigans.

Azriel hoarded it like the dragon he is and looked at it every night he was home. Thinking of her.

We got confirmation that he's completely down bad since that fated solstice night in ACOFAS, and they are mutually aware. Seem to share the same feelings.

Twice now Elain had bought Azriel Solstice gifts. Not once for her mate. And this time Azriel gifted her back with jewelry. (Forget how Rhys ruined the moment for a sec)

"Most males bought their wives and mates jewelry for an outrageous Solstice present." - ACOFAS

She hadn't bought her mate a present. But she'd gotten Azriel one last year -- a headache powder he kept on his nightstand at the House of Wind. Not to use, but just to look at. Which he'd done every night he’d slept there. - ACOSF

It had never gone this far. They'd exchanged looks, the occasional brush of their fingers, but never this. Never blatant, unrestricted touching. Wrong -- it was so wrong. He didn't care. - ACOSF

He left the rest unspoken. Because her mate was here, sleeping a level up. Because her mate had been in the family room and Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time because he couldn't stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond, and needed to have the option of leaving if it became too much. Elain's large brown eyes flickered, well aware of all that. Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days.

He needed to know what the skin of her neck tasted like. What those perfect lips tasted like. Her breasts. Her sex. He needed her coming on his tongue -- Azriel's cock strained behind his pants, aching so fiercely he could hardly think. He prayed she didn't peer down. Prayed she didn't understand the shift in his scent.

Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent. He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it. But Azriel just stroked her neck again. Elain shuddered, drifting closer. So close one deep breath would brush her breasts against his chest. She looked up at him, her face so trusting and hopeful and open that he knew she had no idea that he had done unspeakable things that sullied his hands far beyond their scars.

But he could have this. This one moment, and maybe a taste, and that would be it. “Yes" Elain breathed, like she read the decision. Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them. Azriel's hand slid up her neck, burying in her thick hair. Tilting her face the way he wanted it. Elain's mouth parted slightly, her eyes scanning his before fluttering shut. Offer and permission. He nearly groaned with relief and need as he lowered his head toward hers.

Uh, the feeling is mutual yall.

Just how long have they harbored feelings for one another? By the time we see Azriel's POV, he's angered enough by Rhysand's interruption/opinions to let a bit of his true rage show during his discussion with Rhys.

Azriel stiffened. Let his cold rage rise to the surface, the rage he only ever let Rhysand see, because he knew his brother could match it. "What if the Cauldron was wrong?"

"The Cauldron chose three sisters. Tell me how it's possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters, yet the third was given to another." He had never before dared speak the words aloud.

At what point did he start asking himself this question? And when did Elain question this herself?

I mean their interactions go back to ACOWAR.

Azriel, graceful as any courtier, offered her an arm. I couldn’t tell if she was looking at his blue Siphon or at his scarred skin beneath as she breathed, “Beautiful.” Color bloomed high on Azriel’s golden-brown cheeks, but he inclined his head in thanks and led my sister toward the back doors into the garden, sunlight bathing them.

Feyre questions the cauldron shortly after this scene.

“Why not make them mates?” I mused. “Why Lucien?”

What if”—I jerked my chin toward the window, to my sister and the shadowsinger in the garden—“that is what she needs? Is there no free will?

And then you have all these interactions after:

“I can help her,” said Azriel, stepping to the table as Elain silently rose. No shadows at his ear, no darkness ringing his fingers as he extended a hand. Nesta monitored him like a hawk, but kept silent as Elain took his hand, and out they went.

“What did you see,” Azriel said, and I tried not to flinch as I found him at my other side, not having seen him move. Again. Elain paused halfway up the stairs. Slowly, she turned to look back at him. “I saw young hands wither with age. I saw a box of black stone. I saw a feather of fire land on snow and melt it.” . . . I faced Azriel, exposing my palms to him. “What does that mean?” Azriel’s hazel eyes churned as he studied my sister, her too-thin body. And without a word, he winnowed away. Mor watched the space where he’d been standing long after he was gone.

“She doesn’t need anything,” Azriel answered without so much as looking at Lucien. Elain was staring at the spymaster now—unblinkingly. “We’re the ones who need …” Azriel trailed off. “A seer,” he said, more to himself than us. “The Cauldron made you a seer.”

It made sense, I supposed, that Azriel alone had listened to her. The male who heard things others could not … Perhaps he, too, had suffered as Elain had before he understood what gift he possessed.

Shadows gathered around Azriel, Elain at his side, wide-eyed at the spymaster’s display.

But Azriel asked softly, “What about Elain?”

From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, “I’m getting her back.” Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel’s hazel eyes glowed golden in the shadows. Nesta said, “Then you will die.” Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare, “I’m getting her back.”

Bruised, hurt, and bleeding out, he did.

The gray light of morning had broken over the world, mist clinging to our ankles as we headed into that camp, Azriel still cradling Elain to his chest. He dripped blood behind him the entire time—a trickle compared to the torrent that should be leaking out. Contained only by the patches of power he’d slapped on it. Help—he needed a healer immediately.

Azriel rasped, swaying on his feet, “We need Helion to get these chains off her.” Yet Elain didn’t seem to notice them as she rose up on her toes and kissed the shadowsinger's cheek. ✨️

I know Elain's heart is broken. Her engagement ruined. But I believe this is where the small seed was planted, for both of them. She's been shown what a true man/male was capable of. The "If they wanted to, they would," analogy. Azriel didn't have to risk his life for her, but he did. And he didn't let her go until she was taken from his arms.

Azriel, still limping, merely nudged aside Cassian and extended another option. “This is Truth-Teller,” he told her softly. “I won’t be using it today—so I want you to.”

I have never once seen Azriel let another person touch that knife. Elain looked up at Azriel, their eyes meeting, his hand still lingering on the hilt of the blade. I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection … that knife.

I truly think Truth-Teller is revealing the potential mate bond they have right here. Major foreshadowing. Feyre can see it with her painter's eye, but also really because she is made? But that's a conversation for another post.

And then we have:

“You mean to tell me that you weren’t bluffing when you said you didn’t track Lucien’s every movement?” Nothing. Absolutely nothing on that face, on his scent. The shadows, whatever the hell they were, hid too well. Too much. Azriel only said coldly, “If Lucien kills Graysen, then good riddance.”

And that later escalated during his next one on one with Rhysand in ACOSF.

"I think Lucien will never be good enough for her, and she has no interest in him, anyway."

And

"I'll defeat him with little effort." Pure arrogance laced every word, but it was true.

Back to ACOFAS...we have the lovely potatoe scene. Where, clearly, there's mutual evidence of something going on between them. I think it's clear there's feelings for each other at this point.

Azriel emerged from the sitting room, a glass of wine in hand and wings tucked back to reveal his fine, yet simple black jacket and pants. I felt, more than saw, my sister go still as he approached. Her throat bobbed. But I strode to my seat—nestled between Amren and Mor—in time to see Elain say to Azriel, “Hello.” Az said nothing. No, he just moved toward her. Mor tensed beside me. But Azriel only took Elain’s heavy dish of potatoes from her hands, his voice soft as night as he said, “Sit. I’ll take care of it.” Elain’s hands remained in midair, as if the ghost of the dish remained between them. With a blink, she lowered them, and noticed her apron. “I—I’ll be right back,” she murmured, and hurried down the hall before I could explain that no one cared if she showed up to dinner covered in flour and that she should just sit. Azriel set the potatoes in the center of the table, Cassian diving right in. Or he tried to. One moment, his hand was spearing toward the serving spoon. The next, it was stopped, Azriel’s scarred fingers wrapped around his wrist. “Wait,” Azriel said, nothing but command in his voice. Mor gaped wide enough that I was certain the half-chewed green beans in her mouth were going to tumble onto her plate. Amren just smirked over the rim of her wineglass.

Mor and Amren know something. Or sense something, atleast. More foreshadowing.

Later, Elain's reaction to Feyre repimanding her about her behavior toward lucien says plenty about how she feels.

“He brought you a present.” Those doe-brown eyes turned toward me. Sharper than I’d ever seen them. “And that entitles him to my time, my affections?”

I handed Elain the small box with her name on it. Her smile faded as she opened it. “Enchanted gloves,” she read from the card. “That won’t tear or become too sweaty while gardening.” She set aside the box without looking at it for longer than a moment. And I wondered if she preferred to have torn and sweaty hands, if the dirt and cuts were proof of her labor. Her joy.

And again in ACOSF

Elain, the wretch, had taken the seat between Feyre and Varian, about as far from Lucien as she could get. Azriel remained in the doorway.

And we get Cassians view of her behavior towards Lucien

He and Lucien did not exchange gifts, though the male had brought a gift for Feyre and one for his mate, who barely thanked him after opening the pearl earrings. Cassian’s heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing. Elain only shrank further into herself, no trace of that newfound boldness to be seen.

The scene that started this whole post:

Mor lifted, squinted at the name tag, and said, “Az, this one’s for you.” The shadowsinger’s brows lifted, but his scarred hand extended to take the present. Elain turned from where she’d been speaking to Nesta. “Oh, that’s from me.” Azriel’s face didn’t so much as shift at the words. Not even a smile as he opened the present and revealed— “I had Madja make it for me,” Elain explained. Azriel’s brows narrowed at the mention of the family’s preferred healer. “It’s a powder to mix in with any drink.” Silence. Elain bit her lip and then smiled sheepishly. “It’s for the headaches everyone always gives you. Since you rub your temples so often.” Silence again. Then Azriel tipped his head back and laughed. I’d never heard such a sound, deep and joyous.

So careful to guard your face, shadowsinger. 😏 Then blows it after the joy takes over. 😆

Then he takes time to be with her. Late in the night.

Azriel and Elain remained in the sitting room, my sister showing him the plans she’d sketched to expand the garden in the back of the town house, using the seeds and tools my family had given her tonight. Whether he cared about such things, I had no idea, but I sent him a silent prayer of thanks for his kindness before Rhys and I slipped upstairs.

Idk if he cares for gardening specifically, but he cares for Elain, that's for sure.

Then in ACOSF, Nesta tells us that she knows something is between them as well.

Nesta shook her head slowly, not understanding. Elain just linked her arm through Nesta’s and led her toward the family room, where Azriel stood in the doorway, monitoring them. As if he’d heard Elain’s sharp laugh and wondered what had caused it. “I was just checking on dessert,” Elain explained as they approached the doorway and Azriel. Nesta met the shadowsinger’s stare and he gave her a nod. Then his gaze shifted to Elain, and though it was utterly neutral, something charged went through it. Between them. Elain’s breath caught slightly, and she gave him a shallow nod of greeting before brushing past, leading Nesta into the room.

Azriel lingered near the door, quiet enough that when Feyre and Mor began talking about some of her paintings, Nesta went over to him. “Why don’t you sit?” She leaned against the doorway beside the shadowsinger.“ My shadows don’t like the flames so much.” A pretty lie. She’d seen Azriel before the fire plenty. But she looked at who sat close to it and knew the answer. “Why did you come if it torments you so much?"

Azriel grows more protective of Elain over all this time. The stiffening. Gaze darkening. Silent raging. He's down bad.

“Because of the shit with Elain?” Azriel stilled. “What happened to Elain?” Cassian waved a hand. “A fight with Nesta. Don’t bring it up,” he warned when Azriel’s eyes darkened.

And

“Maybe you’ll become interesting at last, Elain.” Nesta saw the blow land, like a physical impact, in Elain’s face, her posture. No one spoke, though shadows gathered in the corners of the room, like snakes preparing to strike.

ANYWAY, all this to say Death and his lovely Fawn are down bad. Smitten. Twitterpated. Dare I say fated by the Mother.

The tea started in ACOWAR and has been brewing since ACOFAS. The tea will be hot in this next book, for sure.

Thanks for reading my rambling on these two. 💖 Ready when you are, Mrs. Maas.

[lunajay33]

Protect Me

•🤎🪵🌲🪨•

Summary: Being the youngest was hard especially being a girl, Sam and Dean always tried to protect you but on one hunt the monster takes you and the after math is bad, so they have to call in John

Pairing: Sam Winchester x sister, Dean Winchester x sister, John Winchester x daughter

•Masterlist•

Being the youngest was hard especially being a girl in this family work, I’m only a year younger than Sam but still I felt like a baby compared to them, when Sam went off to school it was just Dean and me and dad took it hard especially on me, he pushed me to work harder all the time and the pressure became overwhelming

Well now he’s missing and it’s just me and my brothers, driving down the interstate to a new mission, this one was a bit out of my league, vampires, they’re strong and I don’t have as much experience with them as Sam and Dean

“Hey you okay back there, you’re pretty quiet” Dean asks as he looks through the rearview mirror

“Oh yeah just nervous”

“Hey we’ll be there the whole time, nothings going to happen to you sis” Sam smiles as he turns back to me

“Do you think we’ll find dad soon?”

“I don’t know kid, soon I hope”

After a bit more driving we made it to the motel and it was time to do some digging on these vampires as Dean came back with take out for supper

“Can I ask you guys something?” I sigh closing a historic book of the town

“Sure what’s up kid” Dean asks as he chows down on a burger

“Do you think dad left because of me?” They both stopped and gave me their full attention

“Why would you say that?” Sam asks giving me his puppy expression

“Well I’m not as good as Dean and he’s been getting more and more angry with me every mission, maybe he just didn’t wanna deal with me anymore, maybe he finally realized I’m just a burden” my bottom lip trembled finally letting out the feelings I’ve been holding in

“Are you nuts? Dad was only being hard because he wanted to make sure you were safe he loves you”

“Yeah you’re his daughter and he’d never leave us like this because of a few mistakes, don’t worry your little head” Sam reach over the table squeezing my shoulder

“Alright” I sigh going back to reading

•

The next day we gathered our supplies and were off to find them finding their small nest was camped out somewhere in the woods, we got out of the impala on a dirt road, getting our weapons ready

“Okay make sure you stay alert, watch eachothers back” Dean states and we start out into the darkening woods

My heart was beating so fast that’s all I could hear, walking behind Dean with Sam behind me, when a cry comes from up ahead and we’re sprinting towards it carefully but not quiet enough

I feel myself being thrown across the damp forest floor until a tree smashed against my back and I’m crumbling on the ground in pain

“Y/N!” Dean and Sam scream as they run towards me but they stop when I’m pulled up from behind by my throat my feet dangling above the ground

“Dean” I gasp as the air burns in my lungs and my vision blurs

“You leave us alone and leave town” the vampire states

“Oh not a chance we’re gonna kill every single one of you” that only angered it as it took my arm and effortlessly snapped it like a twig, I scream wailing in pain

“I won’t ask again”

“Fine fine we’ll go, just stop hurting her” Sam called out desperate

“If you come back again, she’s dead” the vampire hissed before throwing me to my brothers feet and it was gone

My arm felt like it’s been set on fire, my throat hurt so much I could barely breath, my back felt like a thousand knives had been ripping me open

I whine in pain as Sam picks me up, crying into his chest as they run back to the car frantic

“Just hold on we’re going to the hospital you’ll be fine” Sam says as he gently lays me in his lap in the back of the car as Dean puts his foot pedal to the metal driving so fast it was almost nauseating

The pain was all consuming I just want to close my eyes

“Hey you gotta stay awake” Sam says shaking me gently but the darkness took me and I was out

•

The beeping woke me up, opening my eyes to a dimly lit room, the only light coming from the monitor and the hallway

I try to sit up but gasp from the pain, noticing my arm in a cast and a brace around my neck, immediately Sam and Dean woke up from where they were sat in the chairs

“Hey you’re awake how do you feel?” Dean asks as Sam pushes my hair back

I open my mouth trying to answer but nothing comes out except a whine, my throat felt like a machete had been sliced through it as we would a vampire

“Can you talk?” Sam asks worried

I try again but nothing, I shake my head defeated and scared, scared they see I really am useless and they’ll leave me behind, the anxiety is all consuming and I know they can tell I’m upset

“Come on let’s get you back to the motel, just be gentle” they helped me sit up slowly placing me in the wheelchair and wheeling me out to the impala

When we get back to the motel I hobble over to the bathroom my back on fire as I slowly take off the neck brace, revealing the black and blue that covered the entirety of my throat , my eyes red from the burst blood vessels, lifting my shirt I turn seeing my back in the same condition also covered in cuts

“Oh sis, I’m so sorry” Sam came in seeing everything, I pull my shirt back down and make my way over to my bed Dean helping me lay down

“Can we get you anything? I’ll go out and get your favorite food” I reach out and grip his necklace and he knew what I meant he sighed and nodded, we all knew it probably wouldn’t work he hasn’t been answering calls so why would he this time

Dean picked up his phone and called I could faintly hear the voice mail if grown accustom to

“Dad it’s y/n she’s really hurt, she needs you, please if you get this this would be the time to show up” he closed his phone and sat next to me rubbing my leg

“It’ll be okay, you’ve still got us Angel” I nodded before drifting off to sleep again

My dreams are consumed by every hunting mistake I’ve made, everytime dad was mad at me, everytime I let them all down I wake up with a gasp again when I hear the front door slam open, I slowly sit up feeling my shirt rid up and that’s when I hear him, the voice I’ve missed so much

“Oh my baby girl” he comes around the bed and kneels infront of me, taking in my horrific beat up body

“The vampire it got a hold of her before we even saw it” Sam said

“I…..” that’s all I could get out before I was aching with pain keeling over as the waves of pain rolled over me

He took my shoulders and held me close

“This is why I’ve always been so hard on you, cause see you like this kills me, I promised your mother I’d never let anything bad happen to you” he sighed

At least they were all here now

“Maybe she needs to take a break for a while” Dean intervened

“Yeah and I’m not leaving till your better” I nodded feeling a little more relieved finally having my family back together

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

“Sacrifice” and “Covenant” in “Nosferatu” (2024)

Or: how Robert Eggers took the “bride of Dracula” theme to the next level, and no one noticed? And how his adaptation of “Nosferatu” is so widely different from the previous ones? Let's make cinematic comparisons.

First things first: “Nosferatu” and “Dracula” are the same thing. The silent 1922 German movie “Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror” was an unauthorized version of Bram Stoker’s 1897 novel “Dracula”, and Stoker’s widow even sued the film makers and won, and all copies should have been destroyed but made its way to the US, and the rest its history.

Count Orlok is Count Dracula; Ellen Hutter is Mina Harker; Thomas Hutter is Jonathan Harker; Knoch is Renfield; Bulwer/Von Franz is Van Helsing; Anna/Ruth Harding is Lucy Westenra, and Friedrich Harding is Arthur Holmwood.

The relationships between these characters are the same in the 2024 adaptation; Mina/Ellen and Jonathan/Thomas are married, Lucy/Anna and Arthur/Friedrich too. Von Franz/Van Helsing is called to help against Dracula/Orlok. And Renfield/Knoch is Dracula fanatical servant who wants immortality. Why Dracula wants the female characters (Mina and Lucy) varies from story to story: in some he only wants their blood, in others he wants them as his brides.

In the 1922 version, Orlok brings plague and rats to an European city, and unlike Dracula, his victims don’t turn into vampires, they just die. There is also no “brides of Dracula” here. This is also the case in the 1979 adaptation.

To analyze the 2024 adaptation of “Nosferatu”, we need to have this in mind.

Cinematic context

"Nosferatu" adaptations

The climax of the “Nosferatu” story is Ellen Hutter (Mina Harker) sacrificing herself to save Wisburg, because she reads a book that says a vampire can be defeated if a pure-hearted woman distracts him from the approaching dawn with her beauty and by offering him her blood of her own free will.

This is what we see with the 1922 and 1979 adaptations (yes, I’m ignoring the 2023 remake because it’s almost a rehash of the 1922 film):

Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror (1922)

This woman is already dead. Rest in peace in advance. She’s on her back, she completely accepted she’s not getting out of this alive, and she’s selflessly sacrificing herself.

Nosferatu the Vampire (1979)

The same vibe as the first + unnecessary boob grab. This adaptation uses the Bram Stoker names, but she’s “Lucy Harker” (not Mina), and is married to Jonathan Harker (Thomas Hutter).

These women are metaphorically and literally “sacrificial lambs” in these scenarios, there’s no doubt about it. They just lie there, at the mercy of Orlok/Dracula, waiting to die, and for the sun to rise and kill him. But more on that later.

"Dracula" adaptations

There have been so many “Dracula” adaptations in cinema and television, it’s impossible to address them all in this post. This story has been told and retold so many times already, from horror to comedy to drama to romance. We had the brides, the daughters, the sons and even the granddaughter of Dracula. The list is endless, cinema and television has gone through all of Dracula family already.

The most iconic cinematographic adaptations of “Dracula” in cinema history (even though some have no resemblance to the actual book), besides 1922 “Nosferatu” are: “Dracula” (1931); “Horror of Dracula” (1958); “Dracula” (1979) and “Bram’s Stoker Dracula” (1992).

Béla Lugosi 1931 Dracula pretty much solidified Dracula iconography in pop culture

These films are considered cult classics mostly because of their cast (Béla Lugosi, Christopher Lee, Frank Langella, Gary Oldman) and legendary directors (Francis Ford Coppola).

In this story, Dracula is usually killed by a hero male character (Van Helsing, Jonathan Harker, Arthur, Quincey, etc.), which is what happens in the novel. “Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror” (1922) introduced his death at the hands of a female character (Ellen/Mina), even if indirectly (distracting him until dawn so the sun can kill him). “Bram Stoker’s Dracula” (1992) is the exception to this rule, with Mina being the one to kill Dracula at the end, to give him peace (which probably explains why there are so many references to this film in Robert Eggers’ adaptation).

"Her willing sacrifice thus broke the curse"

The main differences between the 2024 adaptation and the previous ones is, indeed, Ellen Hutter and Count Orlok psychosexual connection (like Robert Eggers himself has said) and Ellen’s entire character.

In previous adaptations, Orlok took an interest in Ellen because he saw her portrait (which Thomas Hutter carried with him). In 1922, he wanted her blood, because she’s pure of heart (metaphorical “sacrificing a virgin to the Devil”, probably), and in the 1979 adaptation, he wants the love Jonathan has, but he, himself, can't ever have.

In the actual novel, Dracula bites Mina and wants to turn her into a vampire as revenge (she’s the one who uncovers his plans). Mina Harker is also the literary antithesis to the “she-vampire”, she represents the pure and virginal Victorian woman.

This is also the case with Ellen Hutter’s character in the original 1922 “Nosferatu”, and the reason why she’s the one who selflessly sacrifices herself to save the world from Nosferatu curse. It's her purity which allows her to do this. She’s almost Christ-like, taking this role for herself after reading about it in a book.

In the 1979 adaptation, Lucy/Ellen is the one who can defeat Dracula/Orlok because he’s in love with her, and she weaponizes that to bring him to his destruction. Like the 1922 film, Lucy is also the one who discovers how to defeat Nosferatu. But unlike 1922 Orlok, this vampire is a tragic, depressive and pitiful creature, tired of immortality and loneliness, who takes no joy in the destruction and death he brings.

This is not the case in the 2024 adaptation. Eggers’ Ellen does not represent the “pure and virginal Victorian woman” and as such her “sacrifice” at the end can’t possibly have the same meaning as previous adaptations of this particular story. Because that’s not how storytelling works, and why many are scratching their heads at this ending. The film itself talks about “sacrifice” to “redeem” the townsfolk of Wisburg and save them from Nosferatu curse/plague, but why?

Eggers’ Ellen is a subversion of Mina Harker/Ellen Hutter character. She’s not the God-fearing, devoted and pure-hearted Mina, neither she tries to be. She’s ostracized by society, she doesn’t fit in, she’s been diagnosed as a “somnambulist hysteric melancholic” (hiper-sexual depressive sleepwalker), it’s implied she has been institutionalized (probably in an asylum) before. She outright rejects God and His intervention when talking to Anna about life (it’s destiny, not God). There’s a lot of crosses in this film but none are around Ellen’s neck. She loves Thomas but wants more passion and hunger from him. This is a completely different character from the OG Ellen Hutter/Mina Harker.

On a superficial level, it appears Ellen takes advantage of Orlok sex blood lust to bring him to his own destruction (he’s an appetite who can’t be satisfied without her… blood?), a mix of the 1922 and 1979 adaptations? However, this explanation is not “it” because of a not so smaller detail: their covenant (almost everyone keeps forgetting for some reason). Which didn’t exist in the previous films, this is a plot Robert Eggers introduced but has no pay off?

To me, it’s clear. This talk of “sacrifice” is a red herring and a MacGuffin in the narrative, and it doesn’t mean anything, it’s irrelevant. It’s just there as a Easter egg and reference for previous adaptations of this story. And the true Chekhov's gun of the story is the covenant between Ellen and Orlok. What is a narrative “Chekhov's gun” you ask? It’s a plot that’s introduced early in the story, and whose significance will only became clear later.

Why not the other way around? Because all the foreshadowing of the story points to Ellen joining Death (Orlok), not only freely (out of her own will), but how happy she is in doing this. Hence her dying alongside Orlok at the end can’t possible be an actual selfless sacrifice to save Wisburg or Thomas, nor is she a “sacrificial lamb” like the previous adaptations of this story. There is zero foreshadowing for this happening. Them both (physically) dying in a context of a covenant has to mean something else in this story.

Also the fact that Eggers’ Ellen and Orlok have an entire backstory going on between them, which is also unique to this adaptation. Here, it’s Ellen who “awakes” Orlok from his grave with her summoning prayer, in her teenage years. The guy has been dead for centuries until she brings him back, basically.

She develops a spiritual connection with him, which turned sexual (what we see in the prologue is their relationship already developed, when Orlok reveals himself).

“At first it was sweet, I had never known such bliss. Yet it turned to torture, it would kill me. [...] He is my shame! He is my melancholy! He took me as his lover then, and now he has come back. He has discovered our marriage and has come back!” 

“Remember how once we were? A moment. Remember?” 

We also have the whole ordeal with the lilacs, throughout the film, which are meant to represent Ellen and Orlok's relationship.

A little historical context here for “Ellen’s shame”: this story is set in the Victorian era, where women weren’t supposed to have any sexual desire whatsoever, and even within marriage they were supposed to be modest and restrained. Ellen engaging in sexual activity without being married is highly scandalous for Victorian society (it has nothing to do with “abuse” or whatever wild inaccurate historical interpretations are out there.)

In the novel, Mina does develop a mental connection with Dracula as a consequence of him biting her and feeding her with his blood (cursing her to vampirism). This allows the heroes to track down and destroy Dracula. In the “Nosferatu” adaptations, this connection is more related to Jonathan himself. The only adaptation I can recall that has this sort of astral fuckery going on is “Bram Stoker’s Dracula” (1992), with Lucy's character.

The Covenant

Orlok: “You are not for the living. You are not for human kind. And shall you be one with me ever-eternally. Do you swear it?” Ellen: “I swear."

The thing is: vampires in this “universe” (sort of speak) aren’t made like in the original “Dracula” novel and every vampire story ever since (where the vampire bites and feeds his blood to another, and turns them into a vampire). Orlok victims don’t turn into vampires, they just die. So, what does this “covenant” mean, and implies?

We have to look into the other character in the story, who also wants to make a “covenant” with Orlok, and is his fanatical servant: Herr Knock (our Renfield). 

“The compact commands she must willingly re-pledge her vow. She cannot be stolen.”

First piece of information: this "covenant" ("compact"; "pact") has to be made of free will.

The next clue we got is when Von Franz and Dr. Sievers break into Herr Knock’s office and find books and a cryptic writing: 

“His thunder roars from clouds of carcasses, I feedeth on my shroud, and death avails me not. For I am his.”

“Thunder roars” and “clouds of carcasses” appear to be a reference to Orlok? Or to other deity? “I feed off my shroud and death is of no use to me, because I’m his”: seems to be what this means.

Von Franz also finds out Orlok is Solomonari, student of the Devil (from Romanian folklore).

Later, Von Franz studies the book he took from Knock’s office, which contains the instructions in how to defeat Orlok: “And so the maiden fair did offer up, her love unto the beast, and with him lay, in close embrace until the first cock crow. Her willing sacrifice thus broke the curse, and freed them from the plague of Nosferatu.”

When Thomas, Von Franz and Dr. Sievers go to Grünewald Manor to destroy Orlok’s sanctuary, it’s Knock on the sarcophagus, and Thomas stabs him with the iron spike before he can see him. And he wants to be killed, as he pushes the stake deeper into his body: 

“I relinquished him my soul. I should have been the Prince of Rats – immortal... but he broke our covenant... for he cares only for his pretty bride [...] She is his! [...] Strike again. I am blasphemy!” 

Knock's final words are: "Deliverance." Which is... odd to say the least, because “deliverance” has Christian religious meaning with “salvation”, or even “exorcism” (“deliver us from evil”). But it also means “to be set free”. Interesting enough it’s what Von Franz tells Thomas to do, before they open the sarcophagus: “Go forward Thomas. Set free the daemon’s [demon] body!”

In 1922 “Nosferatu”, Knock remains loyal to Orlok until the bitter end, and even tries to warn him about the rising sun while he’s feeding off Ellen. He also dies as a consequence of his master’s death. In the 1979 adaptation, he leaves before any of this happens, so there's no point talking about that in connection to this.

This leads me to a few questions:

Why would this fanatical follower of Orlok have a book in how to destroy his master, on his own office? In previous adaptations, this knowledge was with "good" characters, not with the second antagonist of the film;

Why does Knoch wants to be killed? Nothing in his character suggests he had a "chance of heart" or is seeking punishment for his “sins”, or absolution, or anything of that sort;

And if 2024 Knock is loyal to 2024 Orlok, until the bitter end (like his 1922 counterpart), what does this mean for the narrative?

The obvious explanations are: (1) Orlok ordered Knock to have that book there for the “vampire hunters” to find and let him have Ellen; (2) or it’s one of those extraordinary coincidences where one of the villains just “kind of forgot”, which seems extremely unlikely in a movie that has been in preparation since 2016.

This also tells us, Orlok might have prepared his own physical demise (because not even demons want to be a rotting corpse, probably), so his soul is set free and returned to Hell? the Underword? Some astral place other than the material/physical world, where he's forced to be a walking corpse. And he wants to take Ellen with him.

As the abbess tells Thomas:

“A black enchanter he was in life. Şolomanari. The Devil preserved his soul that his corpse may walk again in blaspheme.”

This is a horror supernatural film, physical death means nothing in this context, where demons, ghosts and vampires exist. Physically killing Orlok, will only set free his spirit, really.

Harding: “I cannot yield to being haunted by some ghost!” Von Franz: “No, no, no, please, no. It is no mere ghost, for it can manifest physically, and with the most foul intent.”

And so, we return to the cryptic text Von Franz found in Knock’s office (“His thunder roars from clouds of carcasses, I feedeth on my shroud, and death avails me not. For I am his.”). Like Orlok, he sold his soul to the Devil and isn’t afraid to die, because he knows he’ll return as a vampire. And death appears to be a part of this pact, as well. Only, he’s killed by a iron spike and his corpse set on fire, so… there’s no coming back from that.

“Clara asked me today if Aunty Ellen has become a ghost.” Anna tells Friedrich, foreshadowing Ellen’s fate (these kids are like “foreshadowing bombs” in the narrative)

Bride of Dracula/Orlok

“He cares only for his pretty bride [...] She is his!”

“And shall you be one with me ever-eternally.”

Come on, it doesn't get more obvious than this.

Orlok: “Do you accept this, of your own will?” Ellen: “I do.” Orlok: “Then the covenant is fulfilled. Your oath re-pledged.” Ellen: “Yes.” Orlok: “As our spirits are one, so too shall be our flesh. You are mine.”

I already explored why Ellen and Orlok are “fated” and why she’s “promised” to him in another post, so I’m not going to talk about that topic here.

It’s “Bram Stoker’s Dracula” (1992) that established Mina as Dracula’s lover and bride (and reincarnation of his wife) in pop culture (not sure if it was the first film to actually do this, but in previous decades it was Lucy’s character, not Mina, because she’s the one who’s more progressive and liberal). Not only that, but this Mina is more complex and "grey" than previous adaptations: “Perhaps, though I try to be good, I am bad. Perhaps I am a bad, inconstant woman.”

This film had such an impact and it’s so iconic, it has spawned several similar stories in its aftermath.

"I've crossed oceans of time to find you." Dracula to Mina, "Bram Stoker's Dracula" (1992)

“I have sought a creature from the depths. A Eve that remembers her Eden. You are such one.” Orlok to Ellen, "Nosferatu" 2016 script (too bad Eggers didn't keep this)

There is no way Robert Eggers wasn't inspired by Coppola's adaptation of “Dracula” to create his own version of “Nosferatu” (even if he doesn't acknowledge it, publicly), only more demonic and macabre, and less "on-your-face-romance". He went with the dark and gothic route. Dracula tells Mina: “Then I give you life eternal [...] Walk with me, to be my loving wife, forever.” Plus: “to walk with me you must die to your breathing life and be reborn to mine.”

And Van Helsing very dramatic line about Lucy: “She is a willing recruit, a breathless follower, a wanton follower. I dare say, a devoted disciple. She is the devil's concubine!”

And both Ellen and Mina saying “I’m unclean!” because of their connections to Dracula/Orlok.

Only Orlok's “eternal life” is death, in this adaptation. So, Ellen must die in order to join him and be one with him “ever-eternally” aka complete and fulfill their covenant. She's relinquishing her soul to him, she is the “devil’s concubine”. "You are mine."

Ellen is very much aware of what’s she’s signing for here. She knows she’ll die and she’ll be with Orlok forever, in the spiritual world. Odd thing to do if hatred is the only feeling she has for him, or if she’s doing this to save others.

Yes, her “willing sacrifice” saves the world from “Nosferatu curse” but that’s not exactly the point, it’s more of a colateral, a consequence. But at no point in this film this “sacrifice” is described as “selfless” from her part. She’s the one who says to Von Franz she “needs no salvation” and all of her life she has been true to her nature. Which is what happens at the end, as she embraces her own wickedness (“does evil comes from within or from beyond?”).

2024 Orlok is unapologetic evil. He makes no excuses for his behavior, nor he rationalizes his own actions. He’s not a tragic, romantic nor a tormented figure. He’s an appetite, a beast, a devil, and he doesn’t conceal his own nature. Which is what Ellen herself reconciles with, at the end. By accepting him, she’s accepting herself.

2024 Ellen entire demeanor and behavior in her final scene with Orlok is completely different from previous adaptations. She’s not lying there like a “sacrificial lamb”, at all. Not only she’s getting sexual pleasure out of this, she embraces him as the sunlight kills his physical form, and he’s suffering, and in terrible pain, until they die in each other’s arms. It doesn’t get more horror gothic romance than this.

She wouldn’t have any reason to act this way if this whole ordeal was a mere “selfless sacrifice” to save everyone else, like in 1922 and 1979: where Ellen and Lucy are just there waiting to die and not caring less about Orlok/Dracula pain under the sun, because they want to destroy him. In the 2024 adaptation, Ellen is silently and tenderly comforting Orlok as he dies, instead, compelling him to look at her. They are acting like lovers in a suicide pact, nor as prey and predator.

And I have to laugh when I read folks saying this film finally made justice to Mina/Ellen and Jonathan/Thomas love story from the “Dracula” novel, because Robert Eggers not only made another cinematic addition to the whole “Dracula x Mina” universe, but he took it further than Francis Ford Coppola by having them actually ending up together, forever united in some spiritual realm.

“The VVitch”

And this ending of "Nosferatu" is not surprising coming from Eggers, because this is almost the same ending as "The VVitch" (2015), and he started to working on this script after that movie.

“The Devil is in thee and hath had thee. You are smeared of his sin. You reek of Evil. You have made a covenant with death. You bewitched thy brother, proud slut! Did you not think I saw thy sluttish looks to him, bewitching his eye as any whore? You took them from me! They are gone! You killed my children! You killed thy father! Witch! WITCH!” Thomasin's mother accuses her.

Black Phillip/Devil: “Wouldst thou like the taste of butter? A pretty dress? Wouldst thou like to live deliciously?” Thomasin: “Yes.”

Thomasin was accused of being a "witch", a “whore” and having a pact with the Devil by everyone around her, until she actually became one at the end. It's pretty much the same with 2024 “Nosferatu” Ellen: she was also seen as “deranged”, “diseased” and often compared to supernatural beings ("changelling girl", "sylph", "fairy", etc.) until she became just that at the end, too.

[purrassicjet]

Sandra Lynn remembers the faces, and often names, of every single person she failed to save during her career as both an adventurer and a Ranger.

She remembers being 17 and watching a village burn, screaming at her adult party members to save the people inside. She remembers the villager's faces as she tried to run in, only to be grabbed by Pam and pulled back. There wasn't any anything they could do. She remembers firing everything she had into the dragon that caused it all, then crying herself to sleep that night, unable to shake the image of people calling out to her.

She remembers every face on a missing person's poster. Everyone she failed to recover, and every body she found. Sometimes it's worse when she finds them. She remembers every call. Every time she has to explain to the family they were giving up, or worse, what they found was barely their loved one anymore.

Every person who slipped through her fingers on a rescue, every person who died in transit, no matter how many times she promised them it was going to be okay.

They live on in her dreams just as much as her nightmares, filling up the crowds when she dreams, snatches of memory she can't quite grab in the dream world. The nightmares are worse. They beg her to explain why, why she failed to save them. She tries to explain. They were too far gone, somewhere she couldn't reach, it would endanger her team, but nothing is ever enough for the terrifying spectures of the dead.

When she wakes up, she rifles through the box of thank you notes she keeps under the bed. Messages from the people she saved, photos of them on holiday with their families, spending time they would have missed had she not been there. She lets their faces flood her mind. Their smiles. She remembers their families' joyful tears when they reunite with somebody they thought was lost for good. If that's not enough, she reads the notes from families of people she couldn't save. She has very few. Never pictures, only notes. They thank her for doing all she could, for being with their loved one while they died, for giving them a body to bury. If they can forgive her, then maybe she can forgive herself.

And despite everything, she can never hate being a Ranger. Even on her worst days, where the blows just keep coming, she knows that it would be a hell of a lot worse if she wasn't there, and she can't hate a job that allows her to save lives, even if it means she feels responsible for losing them.

[i-heart-yellowstone]

hi! Can I request a fic where reader gets kidnapped a couple of days before her wedding to Kayce? When they find her, she wants to still get married and Jayce is kinda shocked. A lot of fluff please!

Why Would You Wanna Marry Me For Anyhow

Tag list - just send an ask to be added @tallrock35 @kmc1989 @pear-1206 @frost-queen @child-of-of-the-sunshine

Blinking my eyes opened I groaned feeling my wrists were still bound in handcuffs and I had been in captivity for a few days now. I had a good idea of who had come after my fiancés kid Tate Dutton. The ten year old had gone outside to feed his horse before someone had come on the ranch in the middle of the night. I told the boy to run and let the guys take me instead.

I was starting to get worried that they’d never find me here. And that I’d never get to marry my childhood friend Kayce. He had divorced his previous wife a year ago once we had reconnected at my family’s bar one night and the rest seemed to be history. We were just days away from the wedding at his family’s ranch until this happened.

I just wish it didn’t take us ten years to realize we had found our soulmate at ten years old.

“Why would you wanna marry me for anyhow?” I asked my childhood friend while we were sitting up in the hay loft inside the Yellowstone barn just simply talking.

Kayce and I had met in kindergarten and had been attached at the hip ever since that first day of elementary school. Kicking my legs back and forth eyeing my friend who had a dorky smile on his face after asking me to marry him when we got older.

He leans forward where I thought he was going to kiss me right then and there. “So I can kiss you anytime I want.” He whispered scooting over to be closer to me.

“I - I’ve never kissed anyone before. Have you?”

He shook his head no. “I haven’t either.”

“Would you wanna?-“ I questioned him, shrugging my shoulders.

Kayce nodded his head being the first one of us to lean forward. I leaned forward, closing the gap between us and we connected our lips in a soft kiss.

“I could see myself marrying you, Dutton.” I giggled pulling away when we had ended the quick kiss.

One of the men who had abducted me entered the room that I was being held in. The man yanked my chin in between his thumb and index finger growling in my face. “You called the cops didn’t you!”

“I couldn’t call anybody. As you can see.” I shook my wrists jingling the metal handcuffs as a gesture to the man.

He raised his other hand, taking out a handgun from his belt, pushing it against my stomach about to shoot until I heard the sheriff's voice come through the house. “Kace!”

“Ahh!” I screamed when the sheriff fired off a shot killing the man who had abducted me before he could shoot me in the stomach. Shutting my briefly I hung my mouth open seeing a dead body laying in front of me with the sheriff stepping inside to check on me. “Sheirff Haskell.”

“Kayce, you need to step back.”

Lifting my head up my heart skipped a beat hearing my fiancés voice. “Is she in there? Is she in there?”

The sheriff turned on his feet and I heard a few other officers trying to hold him back. “Guys, a minute. Kayce - you don’t want to see this.”

“Get out of my way, Haskell - Y/n!” Kayce shouted my name and I heard his boots banging against the wooden floor. Finally I saw him come around the corner, slowly dropping his automatic rifle that was hanging off his right shoulder. “Y/n-“

“No, no, no. Ah, ah!” Shaking my head I still had my eyes tightly shut not wanting to see a dead body laying in front of me. I felt hands touching my wrists and the cuffs were removed, allowing me the ability to swing a punch at whoever was really in front of me at this moment.

Kayce’s voice met my ears and he gently but tightly lifted took hold of my wrist, getting me to open my eyes. “Y/n, hey, hey, look at me. Open your eyes. It’s me, it’s Kayce. Open your eyes.”

“K-Kayce. You’re really here?” I asked under my breath, locking my gaze with his deep brown eyes.

He nodded, raising his hands up to my dirty hair, seeing the cuts on my face and the blood that was splattered on my clothes from the gunshot. “Yeah, I’m here. It’s me. It’s Kayce. How are you? Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine. Kayce, I - I know what you’re thinking about us. About our wedding.”

Kayce knitted his brows at my words. “What about the wedding? Are you saying that you don’t want to marry me anymore?”

“Kayce, it’s nothing like that.”

He cut me off, beginning to show panic across his face. “What was I thinking - of course you wouldn’t want to marry me after you got abducted because of my family. I - I should have known better-“

“Kayce Dutton, I still want to marry you!” I shouted in his face, grabbing his face in my hands making him look me in the eye. “I still want to marry you, do you hear me? I want to marry you.”

The youngest Dutton son blinks away some tears, silently staring at me for a few minutes. He slowly wraps his arms around my body and I clutched the fabric of the bulletproof vest he was wearing. “I love you - I love you, Y/n.”

“I wanna marry you when we get back to the ranch immediately. I’m going to marry you tonight, Kayce.” I muttered against his chest crying into his shirt.

Kayce kissed my forehead, raising himself up off the ground and offering me his hands to help me. Placing my hands in his rougher ones he tugged me upright where I was standing on my feet. “Can we take you to the hospital first or are we just racing back to the ranch?”

“Call your sister to kidnap a priest and meet us outside the family barn.” I responded back to him.

Kayce bent his head down chuckling lightly. “Come on, let’s go home. I’m sure my sister has an outfit you can borrow that doesn’t have blood on it.”

Sheriff Haskell escorted us in his police car back to the ranch and had notified our parents for the surprise wedding. Walking down the hallway upstairs of the main house I grinned seeing my father waiting for me at the edge of the wooden stairs. “You look beautiful, sweetheart.” He offered his arm where I lopped it through his and we made our way down into the large living room.

Entering the living room I felt tears welling in my eyes seeing Kayce standing in front of the burning fireplace dressed in a dark blue dress shirt, black jeans and muddy brown boots. His hair was combed while his sister was holding his black cowboy hat in her hands. “Thank you for doing this so suddenly, daddy. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. Just promise me you will get checked out by a doctor to make sure nothing is broken.” My father spoke where we stopped at the end of the aisle, he placed my hand in Kayce’s going to stand by my mothers side.

John and Tate were on the other side of Beth while the priest stood in the center clearing his throat. “So seeing as I don’t know any of you people I will just skip to the vows. I, state your name-“

“I , Kayce Dutton.”

The priest pointed to me. “Do take ,state her name. To be my lawful wedded bride.”

“I, Kayce Dutton, do take Y/n L/n to be my lawful wedded bride.” Kayce began declaring, squeezing my hands he held in his. “To have and to hold, to honor and cherish from this day forward. For better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health until death do us part.”

I sniffed back some tears eyeing the priest when he asked for my attention to focus on him. “Ms. L/n, repeat after me please.”

“ I, Y/n L/n, do take you Kayce Dutton to be my lawful wedded husband. To have and to hold, to honor and cherish from this day forward. For better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health until death do us part.” Beth had given me one of her short blue dresses with a white fur coat thrown over my shoulders, paired with my black combat boots.

Kayce wiped away some tears from his eyes, taking out two rings from inside his pocket, handing one to me that would be his. “I told ya you’d like to marry me one day.” He teased me lightly by sliding the ring onto my left hand.

“Is it still true? What would you wanna marry me for anyhow?” I paused waiting for his reply before sliding the ring on his left hand.

He grins brightly down at me. “So I can kiss you anytime I want, Mrs. Dutton.”

“Um not yet.” The priest noticed that I wrapped my arms around the cowboys neck, leaning up on my toes to kiss him.

Kayce growled under his breath. “Just say the words already.”

“Do you want me to give you a ride back to your church or not, buddy.” Beth threatened him.

The priest nervously spoke. “I now pronounce you husband and wife.” Hearing those words I jumped up wrapping my legs around Kayce’s waist and he held me by my thighs, connecting our lips together in that long awaited special kiss.

“I’ve been waiting to call you Mrs. Dutton since we were ten years old.” Kayce mumbled in between deep kisses.

Holding his face in my hands I drew him in for another long kiss, grinning into the kiss. “Now you’re stuck with me until the day we’re buried in the ground.” He smiled, getting lost in how good it felt to be with his soulmate after years of waiting to finally call me his forever.

[ladyeyrewrites]

Hey, i wanna ask for some 💭💭💭💭💭💭 and 👻👻👻👻👻 please😊

@eliotwaughdeservesbetter Here you go! Thanks for making me write!

💭But I Was Just in Peru Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

“Unc Buck,” little Kevin tries to imitate, but he’s a bit behind where he should be speech wise. Evan was telling Tommy about how Maddie was looking to start him with a speech pathologist soon only the day before. God, it feels like a lifetime since they were curled together on the sofa after Tommy’s shift talking about how Evan was worried about how stressed Maddie seemed. And now Maddie’s got her brother’s missing memory to worry about on top of her kid.

“How is he?” Bobby asks, and it once again strikes Tommy how lucky Evan is to have come to the 118 while Bobby was there, to have been shaped by someone who cares so much, someone who grew to become more of a father to Evan than Tommy’s actual father-in-law and God, Tommy’s going to have to call Phillip and Margaret and tell them what’s happened.

He’s never quite sure where he stands with them. They’ve been nothing but polite since Evan first introduced Tommy to them, almost painfully polite. Like they know there’s a way they’re supposed to act in order to keep up appearances, but they never seem to express a genuine emotion unless they’re criticising Evan over something, which automatically puts Tommy on the defensive when he’s around them. Honestly, the only reason he’s polite to them is because Evan’s trying to hard to have a relationship with them and Tommy guesses they’re trying to, in their own way.

Evan having amnesia is certainly going to throw a wrench into repairing their relationship, though.

But that’s a problem for the future. For now, he has to say something. He has to look the anxious eyes of Evan’s chosen family and tell them that Evan isn’t their Buck right now, that they’re all strangers to him. Tommy takes a deep breath, filling his lungs as though extra oxygen will somehow soften the blow he has to strike. “He’s awake,” Tommy begins.

And some 👻 Marry My Dead Tommy snippet 1 and 2

“Motherfucker!” Chim swore. “Not again! Why am I always the one getting haunted?” First his mom’s ghost and then Kevin and now Tommy Kinard of all people. At least his mom had crossed over once she’d been sure Chim was safe with the Lees. Kevin seemed to come and go as he pleased, warning Chim of any danger before it happened before disappearing again. What kind of ghost was Tommy going to be?

Tommy shrugged. “Trust me, if I had the option of haunting someone else, I would.”

Being haunted by Tommy hadn’t been as bad as Chim had first thought it would be. Turned out that without the pressures of living and working under Gerrard’s thumb, Tommy was actually pretty fun. After work, Chim would come home and they’d watch movies together and Tommy would gripe about the cheap beer Chim kept stocked in his fridge even though Tommy couldn’t consume anything anymore.

When Hen started at the 118, Tommy got real quiet. It wasn’t that he disappeared. He hovered around the firehouse even more if anything, scowling at Gerrard and the guys who played along with him. Not that Chim exactly stood up for Hen, either, but he tried to at least be friendly.

Tommy had gone a little poltergeist, not towards Hen, but rather towards Gerrard: moving his coffee, knocking things off his desk, burning his uniform. “What’s with the pranks man?” Chim had asked him one day when they were back at Chim’s place watching Fight Club.

“I just hate how he’s treating her,” said Tommy.

Make Me Write

[thehealerhairpin]

his annoyance were clear -- it was beyond annoyance , really , he's moreso mad . despite that she can't tell tones very well but how he talks and how he acts to her has very much been clear of his angry intentions . she can felt the glare and the anger in his eyes even with her eyes shut close , it's almost like he wants her dead .. but he couldn't do it , not if he want her to be his wife so much . and if he thinks of her to be such prize to be won , then what ?

she was still fearful of him -- that's just normal to her . she was forced to be here , as he tried to force her to be an obedient pet -- to him , his wife must be perfect . something from all angles that are suppose like a beauty sent by god , and she was hand picked by him . he wanted a perfect wife -- who isn't even a wife , he wanted a maid . someone who follows his order with every nod and none of them is to ever try to against him . but she was no maid -- none of his wives were , they were just forced to be one with the luxury put on the table .. yet , not like he was going to give it to them as the moment they became these porcelain dolls all his goods will go back to him . there was nowhere they could go , and nowhere can she go .

home is not near , friends is far gone . all she can try to do now is hope , hope to survive -- hope that something could change this outcome -

the chance .. is there .. is very darkened light , and she might be living in a fairytale but this is her only hope -- her only thought in mind that she need to kept alive in order to keep herself alive . she can't just throw the chance of this all away , she can't . she have people she love to get back to , she have stuffed animals she needs to get back to . she may not have family but she have friends , friends that cares and loves her unlike Regulus .

the silence between them grew loud as she stood there , silent , after her sentence of speaking back to him . her eyes were at the floor , glancing at the throne he wanted to associate with her so badly -- wanting to make her a what ? a queen ? what a laugh , all he wants of her is her vulnerable parts and areas and to use her like a maid . how odd of a word he was using just to get her to follow him -- not even seems like he was convincing her , he was just purely threatening her to get her to listen - but she won't . because why would she ?

there was not a reason she should listen to him --

except death . but that's a better fate than being here . she'll accept the warm embrace of death more than the cold embrace of this man .

as she was about to spoke , lifting her head up but that's when she got immediately slap , her body sways almost to a fall -- that hit was heavy . her eyes widen as it narrows due to the sharp pain she got from a single slap , that maybe one of the hardest slap she have received -- her bully's hand slap wasn't this harsh but she can feel her face swells up and the blood in her mouth slightly .

how horrible .

her face were then gripped , almost making that sharp pain of a slap more worse than it already is . it swells , it hurts , it feels sour and painful . her cheek felt red and sore .

she is not going to listen . she will refuse to obey . there is something she can do . and that is to not listen to a complaint from a man like him .

as her hand came up to grab onto his wrist , her face mixed in with anger , fear , but now with a mix of pain due to the swollen cheek she have been given by the slap . his slap were too harsh .

" if you want someone to follow your commands so much -- then why don't you hire a maid ? "

He stopped for the moment, his grip on her wrist tightened as his eyes narrowed in confusion and slight annoyance. He was not used to someone speaking back to him, especially not in this tone of voice.

He had expected fear, obedience, perhaps even pleading, but not this. This was new, a fresh taste of something that was not quite as sweet as the usual cowering and submission he was accustomed to from those around him. It was as if she had slapped him with a wet fish, leaving him momentarily stunned.

“What did you say to me, who do you think you are, what gives you the right to speak back to me?”

The room, which was once filled with the silent whispers of the soulless dolls, now echoed with her words, bouncing off the walls like a rebellious echo that refused to die down. His eyes searched hers, looking for any sign of weakness, any crack in her resolve that he could exploit, but all he found was a stubborn determination that seemed to be carved into her very soul.

It was almost infectious, and for a brief moment, he felt something akin to admiration for this girl who dared to stand up to him. But that was quickly squashed by the cold reality that he had a plan, and she was a piece that needed to be played.

The silence grew heavier, thickening the air between them until it was almost tangible, a barrier that neither of them seemed willing to break. His grip on her wrist didn't lessen, but his expression did change, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. Was it a spark of interest? Or was it the mere curiosity of a cat playing with a trapped mouse? He was the master of this twisted game, and she was the newest pawn who hadn't realized the rules yet.

But she had something that none of the others had - she had a voice, and she had the courage to use it.

“You will learn your place here, one way or another, you will learn, even if I have to break you.”

With a swift motion, his brought his other hand up and slapped her across the face. The sound echoed through the room, as sharp as a gunshot in the stillness. The dolls' eyes remained unblinking, their perfect faces as unreadable as ever. The sting was immediate, and she could feel her cheek burning, a stark reminder of the power dynamics that she had so unwillingly entered into. But she didn't flinch, didn't look away. She just stood there, her eyes locked with his, filled with a mix of anger and defiance that seemed to surprise him. As he chuckled.

Her head snapped to the side with the force of the slap, and she felt the coppery taste of blood bloom in her mouth. But she didn't dare to touch her face, not in front of him, not now. As he stands there for the moment and just looks at her, as his hand would reach out and grip her face lightly for the moment. “You will do as you are commanded.” There was nothing else for her to say, nothing else for her to do, nothing else to be done, this was the way things are meant to be, she would listen and obey, and that would be the end of it.

[ryssbelle]

N2 Floyd in the first movie

Sad little man got himself captured :(

He also gets punched in the face, but that's neither here nor there lmao

Also sorry for not posting for a fat minute I've been busy XD

Bonus: What John and Branch be doing

RIP in pieces John Dory, you were a brave troll and will be missed

I've got some more doodles of them going through it in the first movie, maybe we will see them soon teehee .

[if-we-are-free-tell-me-why]

every time I hear someone say "oh you have to listen to Dear Evan Hansen it has such good mental health representation" I cry in Next to Normal

[blueflyingturtleontheway]

Til sunrise

Word count: 847

Fandom: Lolirock

Characters: Talia, Amaru

Other: Pre-Canon, continuation of episode 6 - Xeris, angst, abandonment, optimistic ending

Created for the first prompts of @whumptober and #lolirocktober (prompts here and here)

She never realised just how cold the castle walls were, but now, hidden by a broken passage, she could feel the chill seeping in through her thin dress. She was still trembling, even when she ran out of tears to cry.

She watched her own reflection in the dark crystal until it got too dark to see anymore, and then she just stared into the blank night. She didn't remember the nights ever being this dark. Was it another spell of Gramorr's? If he could cover the ground with dark crystals, maybe he did something to the sky too? Or it was simply the smoke.

She coughed with another breath and the sound echoed through the empty rooms- ruins. She immediately covered her mouth with her hand. She listened. Her body was tense and she repeated Crystal Collidum in her mind, to execute it perfectly if she had to protect herself. She regretted not remembering any more spells.

Finally after minutes or hours she let her guard down. It was slowly getting brighter and she was now sure that there wasn't anyone but her around. At least not a living soul.

She closed her eyes when she caught a glimpse of another translucent figure with the corner of her eye. She was cold, she was lonely and she was scared. But the darkness under her eyelids was more pleasant than the darkness around her and she finally admitted to herself that above all, she was tired.

She shot up after what felt like mere seconds. Her heart was racing and her eyes darted around, trying to make sense of her surroundings. Why was she sleeping on the ground...?

As soon as her gaze fell on the dark crystal before her, the horrors of last night came back to her. She felt a new wave of tears flood her eyes and she hid her face in her knees to at least not have to look at herself as she cried. It would only remind her that there's nobody here to comfort her.

Suddenly, through her own sobs she heard something that filled her both with hope and fear. It was a voice.

"Over there! Can you hear it too?" It was coming from above, from where the main hall used to be.

"The little guy seems to, at least. You really think someone would be here so soon after the attack?" There were more of them.

She pushed herself into the corner and tried to hold her breath but then she felt like suffocating, which would only make her breath more loudly, which would definitely make them hear her, and suddenly she was barely able to breath at all.

The sound of many footsteps was getting closer and she could now distinguish the sound of soft paws on stone among them.

Did Gramorr come back to get her too? Was it Banes?

She squeezed her sister's amulet in one hand and extended the other, trying to calm down enough to summon her magic circle.

"Everyone be ready. It's probably just a looter but..."

But how was she supposed to be calm? Her heart was louder than the patter of the approaching paws.

Her circle flickered and went out and so did her hope. Was he going to eat her? Did Banes eat princesses? Did he eat Izira too?

She clutched the amulet with both hands and squeezed her eyes shut, repeating in her mind all the prayers to the good stars for someone - for her sister - to come save her.

But she didn't feel sharp teeth bite into her flesh, or vicious claws tear her apart. Instead, something soft rubbed over her leg.

She risked opening her eyes.

A pair of big green eyes looked back at her.

She's never actually seen Banes, but she knew it couldn't be him. Banes was giant, could breath fire and was very, very evil. And this little puff of white and purple fur couldn't be evil in the slightest.

It put its paws on her knees and moved closer to sniff her. Its wet nose touched hers and it sneezed, knocking itself over in the process. Talia giggled.

"So who do we have here, little guy?" A pair of boots came into her view and a man bent down into her hiding spot. "Oh. Hello there."

Talia recoiled and her hands went back to the amulet.

The man instinctively reached for her but then stopped and instead put his hands up so she could see that he was unarmed. He knelt down far enough for her not to feel cornered but - as she realised when she was finally brave enough to look at him again - still close enough to obscure the horrible dark crystal.

"Hey, it's alright, we're not here to hurt you." He smiled gently. "You're safe now, the rescue mission is here."

The purple puff climbed back into her lap and Talia finally allowed herself to pet it. It was soft and she was starting to believe that perhaps the man was actually telling the truth.

[annamaryllis]

I would like to know exactly how luke asking annabeth to run away with him went down.

[navree]

How can you humanize Maegor , if you will make a show about him?

It depends on how far back you're willing to go in his life, because really up until he takes the crown, you can do quite a bit to humanize him and make him someone people want to engage with, without woobifying him or trying to excuse the truly heinous things he does. Starting backstory onwards, there are lot of ways to do this. There's a lot of room to play with in his childhood and the interpersonal relationships that should be his strongest tethers to humanity, but aren't: his relationship with his brother, his relationship with his mother, and his relationship with his father.

Aenys and Maegor are a relationship that was doomed to fail since birth. For one, while the age gap isn't huge, five years is still pretty significant in terms of differences in development as children, which definitely got in the way of any bonding. For two, they also appear to have largely grown up separately, with Aenys spending most of his time by Aegon's side in King's Landing, and Maegor being raised on Dragonstone with Visenya, before the two essentially switched places with Aegon at Dragonstone and Visenya overseeing the construction of the Red Keep in King's Landing. For three, there's also the external factors, such as their incredibly different personalities and viewpoints on basically everything, as well as the fact that, when Maegor was born, Aenys was only very recently removed from the complete breakdown he had due to his trauma over his mother's sudden death, and likely still wasn't in a state to be trying to forge new bonds with anyone who wasn't Quicksilver (and Aegon, but Aegon's grandfathered in by being his literal dad). So Maegor, who we know wasn't making friends on Dragonstone and just in general was probably really isolated from kids his own age due to it being Dragonstone (not unlike how we see with Shireen Baratheon) also isn't getting any kind of connection from anyone close to his own age throughout his entire childhood.

Really, the only person Maegor is close to in any capacity is his mother, Visenya. She's the parent he grew up with, his primary caregiver and his closest relationship not just in childhood, but likely throughout his entire life. In the nature vs nurture debate on childrearing, she's the one who was providing the nurture. Nearly everything about Maegor, his personality and his view of the world and his personal philosophies and his love map in his brain, among many other things, all of that was shaped by Visenya and her influence on him and her care and devotion for him. And with no one else really around to provide him any sort of companionship that he might have needed, and with his other parent being incredibly distant and barely a parent, Maegor likely latched onto her incredibly strongly. I think, if asked, Maegor would say that, should he be found capable of love, Visenya would be the person he loved the most in his life (I'm of the opinion that his relationship with Tyanna was him trying to find a significant other that most reminded him of his beloved mother, not entirely dissimilar to the way that Henry VIII felt that an ideal wife would be one who was almost identical to Elizabeth of York). And we know that this is something that persisted long after childhood, into his adulthood Visenya was his strongest supporter and Maegor relied on her a lot early in his reign, and was publicly devastated when he learned that she had died. His mother was the only parent he ever really knew as a parent, certainly the family member he loved most, adored even, especially in such sharp distinction with Aegon as a distant father. And speaking of that distant father...

I love Aegon, he's one of my absolute favorite Targs, but he was practically just a parent in name only to his second son. And that's going to do a number on someone, no matter who they are. Maegor's father doesn't much care for his mother, certainly doesn't seem to care for him at all personally, and despite the fact that Maegor is probably far more like Aegon, and a far worthier successor, than Aenys, Aegon still dotes on his eldest while barely spending any time with Maegor. And it's not because of anything Maegor's done, or even anything Aenys has done: it's entirely because of Aenys's mother. Aenys is Aegon's favorite, his precious son, not because of anything Aenys has done to earn that, but simply because he is the son of Aegon's beloved Rhaenys, and that his very existence is a way of having Rhaenys still with him after her disappearance/death. We know that Aegon was forever incredibly affected by what happened to Rhaenys and that he never stopped loving her, given that he openly wept when he held Rhaena and was informed that she was named after her grandmother. Meanwhile, there's Maegor, whose own mother's relationship with his father was never very good (marriage of duty for them vs the Aegon/Rhaenys marriage of desire) and had become incredibly cold and distant by the time that he was born, and you can very easily see how that might ultimately affect a kid. He's watching his mother be completely ignored by his dad just for being the wrong woman, he's dealing with himself being completely ignored and passed over in love and affection just because he's the son of the wrong woman, because his mother isn't the lost ghost that Aegon loved and won't ever be able to stop loving. How much of Maegor's prowess in fighting, not to mention the unchecked aggression he showed during training, was borne of trying to impress his martially skilled father and being upset when it didn't work? How much of his continued presence in tourneys and melées was to show Aegon that he was a much better son than Aenys, that he deserved the love Aegon was freely giving his brother just as much? Was there ever a time when he resented Visenya for being his mother when that was enough to make Aegon uninterested, and did he ever hate himself for blaming the wrong person, or blaming anyone at all? How much did he internalize his own feelings about it as the relationship never got any warmer? How did he feel when Aegon finally noticed him enough to knight him himself, and make him the youngest knight in the realm at that? Did Maegor ever want to talk to him about it once he was a young man, did he ever want to try and forge a stronger relationship on his own merits as an adult, did he ever even try?

There's also the matter of Balerion, which is as much its own relationship as a subset of anything that can be played with as it pertains to Aegon and Maegor. For one, we know that Maegor point blank refused to claim any dragon because he felt that Balerion was the only one worthy of him. And you can take that at face value, but you can also go deeper into it, into the ideas that Maegor might not be consciously aware of. Maybe he wants to try and connect with his father on some level through the dragon bond. Maybe he looks at how Aegon gives Aenys so much, his companionship and his throne and his sword and his love, Hell he even gives Aenys a Valyrian bride (Alyssa Velaryon) but demands that Maegor settle for a simple Westerosi, as if he's lesser than and not the blood of old Valyria. And still he waits to see if maybe Aegon will give him something. Maybe once Aegon is too old for dragonriding, he'll give Maegor Balerion, or at least give Maegor the opportunity to try, to prove himself as Aegon's son, to have that connection. And when Aegon doesn't, when it's still Aenys getting everything Maegor might not even realize he wants, that's just another disappointment for him.

But Maegor does get Balerion anyway, once Aegon dies. He finally gets a connection to Aegon that's his alone, and it's after Aegon is already dead and likely after Maegor was already hardening into the man he would ultimately be remembered as. Not to mention, even on its own, Balerion and Maegor's bond is a good way to show a human element to the man. I've always maintained that, when it comes to Targaryens, the most unconditionally loving and the most openly affection and emotional we should see them should really be with the dragons. With their magic and their Valyrian blood and old world roots and just everything about them, even if you don't subscribe to Targaryen exceptionalism, they are pretty far removed from the place they actually live; culturally and ethnically and socially, they are not Westerosi and certainly in Maegor's time, don't see themselves or are seen by others as Westerosi. The dragons, products of Valyria's heyday, are the closest living beings that Targaryens can relate to, and this is doubly important when it comes to Balerion, who was born during the reign of the Valyrian Freehold, who was alive before the Doom. Balerion is a living cultural heritage, and for someone as isolated as Maegor is (and, as we see in his actions re: his marriages and the Faith, as divorced from Westerosi customs and standards as he is), having that connection is probably the deepest one he'd have, bar maybe his mother, and even then, despite that closeness and love, their mutually cold personalities probably made it hard to be open in any deep affection once Maegor started growing up. Dragons and their riders are practically one being, they feel each other's pains and pleasures and angers and grudges and triumphs, and Maegor having something like that, along with the connection to a father he never really was connected to, adds a human element to the man that he was, despite the fact that he used Balerion to do terrible things.

You can also do a lot with Maegor's actions before his own kingship, specifically the reign of his half-brother Aenys. In spite of their differences and distances, in spite of the shadow of Aegon and the relationships he had with his sisters that affected his relationship with his own sons in turn, Aenys does embrace Maegor with open arms. He gives him Blackfyre, another possession of Aegon's that Maegor must have coveted, and he promises that they'll rule together. They're both adults now, and Aenys seems emotionally sensitive enough to have realized that Maegor probably has some deep rooted issues borne out of things that were set in motion before he was even conceived. And while Visenya might have scoffed at the gestures Aenys made for Maegor, Maegor appears to have taken them really seriously. He personally crushes a rebellion against Aenys in the Vale, and makes huge showings of his loyalty by fighting really hard for his brother against his foes. When Aenys makes him his Hand, Maegor takes that responsibility really seriously and is willing to obey Aenys as his Lord and King, as well as protect him. This seems to have been loyalty that was reciprocated, since it's noted that, when Aenys exiles Maegor for his bigamy, he does it because he felt he had no other option than to be mad at Maegor for what he did, due to the huge public outcry, and even then he still offers Maegor a way out. He only exiles him because Maegor refuses to set Alys aside (another way to humanize Maegor, he takes Alys as a wife despite it being a big taboo for most Westerosi and in spite of her being from a pretty minor noble House, and he refuses to leave her even at the cost of losing his home, he keeps her by his side and he refuses to give her up when there were likely a shitton of better options to deal with his childlessness, to say nothing of women from greater Houses with more potential for him politically, but he CHOSE Alys), since Aenys felt that this was the only choice left to him. And Maegor abides by the exile. Yeah, he takes Blackfyre even though Aenys asked him to leave it, but he still goes into exile, and he stays in exile. Aenys rides Quicksilver and Maegor rides Balerion, the two dragons literally go toe to toe with each other and it's so massively onesided because Quicksilver doesn't stand a chance. If Maegor wanted to, he could have very easily repudiated his exile and decimated Aenys if he tried to enforce it. But Aenys told him to go, so he did, and he stayed gone until Visenya came to fetch him back with the news that Aenys was dead. He respected Aenys's word as king, his sovereign authority as liege lord and as the elder brother, and even if he might not have entirely thought the man worthy of what he had, that does speak to a sort of deference in spite of the complexities of their upbringing, and a willingness to obey Aenys despite everything about their personalities.

So, by the time Maegor comes back from Pentos to usurp the throne, there's a lot that can be used to humanize him and make him a compelling protagonist. A close but somewhat stilted relationship with the only parent to have ever tried with him, an unfulfilled, desperate need for approval and affection from a parent who couldn't give that to him due to circumstances entirely outside his control, a brother he didn't know well in his youth and might not have thought worthy of what he had and certainly been jealous of but that he still respected as king and fought hard to defend and that he deferred to even when he didn't have to, at least one marriage that, in spite of what little it offered him and the clusterfuck it caused, he valued enough that he refused to set aside, and an intense bond with a fearsome dragon that you can make him value more than almost anything or anyone. All of that set up can then be used for an extraordinary fall from grace, to watch the potential and nuance slowly grow darker and darker and darker as Maegor does increasingly horrible things, treats the people in his life increasingly badly, descends further and further into the tyranny and madness that will utlimately kill him. There's bright spots that can be used as well, like the fact that he does have Jaehaerys as his heir and doesn't seem to have had him or Viserys treated that badly, even though they were prisoners, and that he didn't actually set out to kill Aegon the Uncrowned at all until Aegon decided to take back his throne and amass an army. Then, as we've watched Maegor slide further and further down, we can watch with a sinking dread as he annihilates Aegon beneath God's Eye, as he turns on Alys and extinguishes her family, as he has Viserys literally tortured to death to punish Alyssa and Jaehaerys and Alysanne for their escape from Dragonstone. So that, by the time we get to shit like the completion of the Red Keep and the Black Brides, we see that Maegor is incredibly far gone, and we can only watch as all the complexities within him are swept aside by the monster he's become, so foul and loathsome that the eldritch abomination that is the Iron Throne finally kills him to stop the madness.

It's not about woobifying Maegor or excusing him. It's about providing a reason for the audience to look back on who he was as he becomes what he was always going to be, to give explanations for why he does the things that he does (how much of his initial militarism and violence and heavy-handedness, before he went doolally, was borne out of not just his martial prowess as a kid but also watching Aenys's version of ruling not work, for instance), and to get people to understand and feel his initial motivations so that the later stuff also makes sense, and so that you're watching something akin to a doomed fall when he becomes Maegor the Cruel. These are, at least to me, some of the most important and influential ways you can humanize Maegor as a character if you're planning to center him in a proper narrative story, without filing down his edges and keeping him as the kind of person he is. Extrapolate on why he is the way he is, and then show him how he is throughout his lifetime and what he does, along with the how and why of what he does.