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f1crecs · 11 months ago

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Fic Rec List - The Best of 2023

Happy New Year's Eve! Or New Year's Day, depending on where in the world you are right now. What a year it has been - for the sport and the fandom and for this blog right here.

I (Briony) started this blog in June, after a horrific bout of writer's block took away my writing skills. The only thing I love more than writing is reading, and so I decided to funnel my newly gained fandom time into cataloguing all of the wonderful things that I have read over the last few years, in the form of fic rec lists. My wonderful team of fic rec volunteers joined me at the end of October, and we have been collating the lists together ever since.

Thank you so much to everyone who follows, reblogs, likes, and comments on these lists, and an extra special thank you to everyone who shares that love with the writers themselves, in the form of comments, kudos, and bookmarks. You are amazing, and you make the fandom tick. Thank you.

Please find below the team's favourite fics of 2023! This is just like the FIA Gala, except slightly less glamorous and probably can't be used as a plot device in an F1 fanfiction.

These are the fics that really touched us - that stood out, and took our breaths away, and made us cry and laugh and curse. To these authors, and to everyone who has shared their talents with us this year - thank you.

Enjoy. And have a wonderful 2024. ❤️

Esteban/Pierre

nsfw: my thumb's on your teeth by @geluksalig | E | 14.7k @lydia-petze's favourite fic of 2023 Esteban experiences hyperrealistic dreams of a parallel life where he and Pierre have been together since they were teenagers, and neither of them race any more. He gradually becomes more and more disoriented by them as the twin realities begin to blur. This fic is so well done, with twin timelines wound together seamlessly. The grief for a life that never was, that might have been, is palpable. There are clues scattered throughout, however, that there may yet be time to fix things. Pierre's characterisation, as seen through Esteban's eyes, is wonderful - passionate and ferociously protective.

'Pierre presses his lips together, nodding though Esteban knows he is unconvinced, disbelieving. He looks off to the side, and Esteban gets that tense feeling in his gut, like he knows Pierre would claw a hole in his chest to tempt God close with the affliction, just so the rest of them might be sheltered in the shadow that falls just behind. He’s never been sure how to tell him that he doesn’t have to.'

Daniel/Max, Charles/Pierre

nsfw: hook, line, sinker by @chubbydino | M | 92k (wip) @wanderhobbit's favourite fic of 2023 Pierre wishes he could remember, Max wishes he could forget. What I enjoyed: maybe enjoyed isn’t the right word but his fic is heart wrenchingly beautiful. Following the story lines with the two couples and those story lines connecting is beautiful.

'"I love being married to you,” Max said quietly as he pulled on another curl. Daniel dropped his phone on his chest and tilted his head back to look at him. “Oh yeah?” Max’s whole body buckled at the gentleness in his tone. Daniel always knew when he was getting close to a breakdown, when fear and guilt and shame started building up like storm clouds in his head. He nodded. “Yeah. I love you.” Daniel gave him an upside-down smile. “You wanna tell me what’s going on, Max?”'

Charles/Max

nsfw: All The Lights (Couldn't Put Out The Dark) by @fabbyf1 | E | 7.5k @frickinsweet's favourite fic of 2023 Charles needs someone to help him calm down – when his usual partner is indisposed he asks Max instead. For me this fic was the definition of the "this better not awaken anything in me" meme, not so much for the particular kink but for the dynamics. I was relatively new to F1 rpf when I read this and the characterizations of both Max and Charles became the "canon" that I compared every fic to for a while. The Charles in this fic is very hard on himself, tying himself in to knots with anxiety and when he gathers up the courage to ask Max for help he is immediately in to it and never reacts negatively despite the unusal request. This is tagged as PWP (although if one reads the whole series, which I highly suggest, there is definitely plot) and the smut is very much brain meltingly hot but the reason I choose it as my favourite read of 2023 is for the way the characters and their dynamic is so perfectly described - especially Charles who is the POV and whose internal dialogue is a special treat in this fic.

'There was really only one other person he could turn to in these trying times. That’s how he ended up in Max’s room, asking him for a “favor.” “What kind of favor do you need?” Max asked, smiling so openly at him that it hurt Charles' head slightly. He was so quick to offer up his services when he didn’t even know what Charles was about to ask him'

my thoughts will echo your name by witchee_writer | M | 38.9k @blueballsracing's favourite fic of 2023 When Max retires, he decides his next accomplishment to win is Le Mans. His partners are no other than Charles Leclerc and Sebastian Vettel. I loved the cute little quips each character had and the tension! This made me smile and was an amazing rollercoaster of a fic. So much flirting and it's also a Red Bull Charles fic, which I love ❤️

'Sebastian's eyes zeroed in on Max, and then Charles. His grin widened (dangerous). 'Are you here to save me from two idiots with a decade worth of sexual tension?''

nsfw: you and me, we got big reputations by lady_something | E | 93.4k @maaxverstappen's favourite fic of 2023 After publicly coming out when Max won his 3rd championship, Charles and Max have to navigate the consequences of being together. It affects both the dynamic with their own teams and each other, and lends to issues with races in not-so-LGBT-friendly countries. I loved how realistic this was. The author really dove into the real life f1 consequences of a coming out and didn’t shy away from it. Charles and Max love each other so dearly and deeply but also love this sport just as much, and that makes for a great plot driven story. The other characters in this fic add a lot and it feels very found family. This fic had me thinking about it for days after and I was so sad to finish it as I could stay in the universe forever. One of my top fics in general, let alone for 2023! (also, this is for the rbr!charles fans (iykyk))

“So, if you are really, truly worried that we cannot handle it, then I will retire. You mean more to me than another Championship does. I have already done what I need to, I have paid back the debts I owe to my father and my family, and I have won some for me, too. It’s enough. I have the GT3 team, I have iRacing, I want to compete in the WEC. I do not need F1, not like I need you.” # “You—you—you—” Charles looks completely gobsmacked. “Oh my god. Mon Dieu. Max. Max.” Max barely manages to stop Charles from crushing the eggs as he surges forward, plastering his whole body against Max’s as he grabs his face and kisses him.

Charles/Pierre

A Two-Man Cult by @moonlight0starlighte | T | 23.7k @singsweetmelodies' favourite fic of 2023 Charles has always thought he's a beta, but then he suddenly presents as an omega after a night out with Pierre. The consequences for their friendship are devastating when Charles tries to keep this a secret from Pierre. Of course, Pierre finds out anyway, and the two of them have a massive fight - which ends in Charles going into withdrawal after what he perceived as a rejection from his alpha. This fic redefines "angst with a happy ending" - but it is so worthwhile when they finally do get to the happy ending. I love this fic for a variety of reasons, the fantastic angst-with-a-happy-ending slow-burn friends-to-lovers of it all being a big one of them. But more than that, I remember reading this one chapter-by-chapter as it came out, and being so unbelievably hooked, texting everyone about the next update. The writing style is just so engaging, and the story the author tells is so gripping, intense and wonderful. It will also always hold a special place in my heart, because it's the first proper a/b/o fic I read, and probably the fic that got me hooked on the genre. It truly is a masterpiece in so many ways. <3

"What are you thinking?" Pierre's lids flutter closed and he sinks into the warmth of Charles' hands as he brings it to his cheek, lips pressed against warm skin as he answers, "I just can't believe I get to have this."

nsfw: chassis by @hourcat | E | 50.7k @welightitup's favourite fic of 2023 Charles is a part-time art professor/part-time kindergarten teacher with car issues. Pierre is a mechanic. It’s an amazing AU, one I don’t think that had been done before. But wow, it’s so hot too! Expect tension, teasing, flirting, and hot garage/car sex.

'Charles is special, anyway. It’s not even a question. He’s different from anyone Pierre has met in his ten years here, and Pierre really does like him more than he probably should, for someone he really doesn’t know at all. He teaches kindergarten and is passionate about it. He’s got a decent apartment, although he hasn’t seen much of it outside of the bedroom. He’s got shit taste in cars. But somehow, deeper, Pierre feels like he knows him.'

Carlos/Charles

nsfw: my blood is singing with your voice (the saints can't help me now) by @7msc | E | 13.2k @boxboxbrioche's favourite fic of 2023 Carlos meets Charles in a half-finished church. I have already rec'ed this one before, but I just had to share it again for the 2023 roundup. This story truly moved me. It is ethereal and lyrical and I still remember it so clearly, even though it's been months since I read it for the first time. Simply gorgeous.

'He felt like he was cheating. Was he? Well, a church was any place where he could feel God. And he felt God in Mallorca. In Costa dels Pins. In Son Servera. (In his mom’s loving hands. In Blanca’s kind brown eyes, the same shade as his. In Ana’s conniving smile. In his father’s heavy arm across his shoulders. In his grandma’s thin fingers, hands almost too delicate, wrapped around his.)'

#pairing:charles/max #pairing:charles/pierre #pairing:esteban/pierre #pairing:carlos/charles #driver:charles #driver:carlos #driver:max #driver:daniel #pairing:daniel/max #driver:esteban

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icharchivist · 9 months ago

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I agree, once he gets Lucifer back, Sandy is just clinging to him for a solid week

They're locked up in a room together because they're so unwilling to share each other, because I think Lucifer might just be the more jealous one of the two, considering he kept Sandy a secret

They might also fuck nasty in there, but that's up for you to decide for yourself

They might also just chat and maybe kiss a little, if that's what you prefer

DMKFJDFDF choose your own adventure: the anon ask

i admit that i don't think about them sexually much (though i would imagine they'd get down to that eventually, likely, probably, but i don't really think about it), but i would really imagine them just unable to let go of one another for a strong week at least.

I agree with what you say on Lucifer being the jealous one though, he kept Sandalphon a secret from other people for a while and even during the garden-scene in 000, there is this bit where he tries to tempt Sandalphon to stay with him a little even though he wants Sandalphon to go back and live his life, and when Sandalphon questions him about how Lucifer wanted him to stay he smiles and says "the heart has its reasons" (which paralleled Belial's "love has its reasons" when he stayed in the pocket dimension with Lucilius). My point is that Lucifer has shown he's possessive of Sandalphon to an extend and he knows that he needs to let Sandalphon fly free, and he won't force anything on Sandalphon, but he's definitely the type who, deep down, even if he doesn't act on it, wants to keep Sandalphon just for himself, if only for a little bit.

and like, at least it's implied Lucifer is watching over Sandalphon in some degree (like it's not always nor super clear but he clearly knows some things thanks to his connection to Lyria at least), so i think while Lucifer is missing Sandalphon there is a degree in which he at least still can feel him, know about him ect...

while Sandalphon nowadays is yearning everyday for Lucifer, and while he often talks to Lucifer as if he could hear him, he never gets an answer and is always so alone in return, he can't know if his words are reaching him. So if he gets Lucifer back Sandalphon would be unable to let go while it's been so long now.

So they would both be messes and i think they would refuse to let go of each other for a while. Not even to get physically intimate, but at least emotionally so, being able to share everything that happened to them since they've been apart, if only so it can make up for lost time, while touching one another to make sure that it's not a dream, that it's real, yaknow?

anyway not to write a lucisan fanfic out of nowhere like that but basically i mean those two would need a bit before at least untangling from one another-

#ichareply #ichafantalks gbf #anonymous #ichablogging wmtsb

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trini-trin-trin · 3 years ago

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Sharing this from a FB group that I am in. I was very moved by the article and felt affinity with the experiences shared. A really sweet read.

Here is the article if you don't want to click on the link (I know it is a little long, but well worth your time to read!):

The letter I received ten years ago was unsigned and bore no return address. Clearly its author did not expect, much less want, a reply. A message in a bottle, from no one to no one, that letter still remains the most bizarre form of communication. It asks nothing but to be read, promises nothing but to share a few facts and feelings, and, seeing that it must have been dashed off on a lined yellow sheet that seemed hastily torn out of a pad of paper, the author would not be surprised if, after skimming through it, the recipient decided to crumple and lob it into the closest dust bin.

The letter is one page long. One page is enough. The handwriting is uneven, perhaps because the author had lost the habit of writing in longhand and preferred the keyboard. But his grammar is perfect. The man knew what he was doing. I assume he was writing the note by hand because he didn’t want traces of it on his laptop, or because he knew he was never going to send it as an email and risk a reply. Now that I think of it, he probably didn’t care if it even reached its recipient, a local Bay Area reporter who had mentioned my novel about two young men who fall in love one summer in Italy in the mid-1980s. The reporter eventually forwarded it to me, minus its envelope with the postmark. It took no time to see that all the author of the letter was looking for was a chance to blurt out the words he couldn’t dare breathe elsewhere.

My book had spoken to him. His letter spoke to me.

So here it is: dated April 16, 2008.

I came upon Mr. Aciman’s book while on a business trip back East. Not the type of book I am normally able to read, so I bought a copy for the flight home. I think I’m glad I did.

You see, I was Elio. I was 18 and my Oliver was 22. Though the time and place were different, the feelings were remarkably the same. From believing that you are the only person who has these feelings, to the whole “he loves me – he loves me not” scenario, Mr. Aciman got it right. I was particularly impressed with the attention he gave to the morning after Elio’s and Oliver’s first encounter. The guilt, the loathing, the fear. I felt it too much. I had to put the book down for a while.

But in the end I was able to finish the book before we landed at SFO. Which was good, because I couldn’t take the book home. Unlike Elio it was I who married and had children. My Oliver died from AIDS in 1995. I’m still living a parallel life. My name is not important. His name was Dwight.

Instead, I kept the letter. I kept it for ten years.

What moved me was not just its sobering matter-of-factness or its hint of downplayed sorrow, but the associations it provoked in my mind. It reminded me of those short, clipped messages to loved ones, written by people about to be shipped off to the death camps who knew they’d never be heard from again. There is a chilling immediacy about their hurriedly scribbled notes that say everything there is to say in the fewest possible words — there wasn’t enough time for more, no smarmy pieties, no hand-wringing, no treacly hugs and kisses before the tragic end. It also made me think of the moving phone messages left by those who finally realized they were not going to make it out alive from the Twin Towers and that only their family’s answering machine was going to take their call.

“My name is not important,” he writes, almost as an apology for remaining anonymous; yet the author drops quite a number of hints about himself — hints he likely knows will stir his reader’s wistful curiosity to know what made him write the letter in the first place, what he hoped to accomplish, and if writing did indeed help. The letter itself allows us to see that he travels for business. We also sense that he probably lives in the Bay Area and that he travels not infrequently to the East Coast, since, as he writes, he is “back” in the East. And we know one thing more: that he simply needed to come out and tell someone that a man called Dwight had been his lover when the two were young. The rest is a cloud. We’ll never know more. Writing has served its purpose. We write, it seems, to reach out to others. Whether we know them or not doesn’t matter. We write to put out into the real world something extremely private within us, to make real what often feels unreal and ever so elusive about ourselves. We write to give a shape to what would otherwise remain amorphous. This is as true about authors as about those who want to correspond with them. Over the years, many have written to me either after reading or seeing Call Me by Your Name. Some tried to meet me; others confided things they’d never told anyone; and some even managed to call me at the office and, on speaking about my novel, would eventually apologize before bursting out crying. Some were in jail; some were barely adolescents, others old enough to look back at loves seven decades past; and some were priests locked in silence and secrecy. Many were closeted, others totally out; some were widows who felt a resurgence of hope if only by reading about the loves of two young men called Elio and Oliver in Italy; some were very young girls eager to meet their long-awaited Oliver; and some recalled former gay lovers whom they’d occasionally bump into years later but who’d never acknowledge what they’d once shared and done together when both were schoolmates and neither was married. All were keenly aware of living a parallel life. In that parallel life things are as they perhaps should be. Elio and Oliver still live together. And no one has secrets there.

Unlike Dwight’s lover, everyone who took the time to write to me did not withhold their names, but all had, at one point or another, withheld something very primal. They withheld it from themselves, from a relative, from a friend, a classmate, or colleague, or from a beloved who would never have guessed what troubled longings seethed below their averted gaze whenever they crossed paths.

Some readers wrote to tell me they felt that my novel had changed them, and given them new insights into themselves; some felt it was urging them finally to turn a new leaf in their lives. But some couldn’t go so far and, despite their perfect command of language, confessed lacking the words to explain why they were so moved by my novel or why they felt an unresolved longing for things they’d never considered or desired before. They were experiencing an upwell of emotions and of ungraspable might-have-beens that were asking to be reckoned with because they seemed more real than life itself, a sense of themselves that beckoned from an opposite bank they’d never known was there and whose potential loss now was a source of inconsolable grief. Hence their tears, their regrets, and the overpowering sense of being lost in their own lives.

And yet, they said, theirs were not tears of sorrow. They were tears of recognition, as though the novel itself were a mirror for readers to watch their own emotions laid bare before them. These responses made me aware that Call Me by Your Name does not call attention to anything readers didn’t already know, nor does it bring new truths or revelations; all it does is shed new light on things that were long familiar but that they never took the time to consider. It would be so tempting to say that they are reminded of their forgotten first loves; the truth is that all loves, even those that occur late in life, are first loves. There is always fear, shame, reluctance, and not a tiny dose of spite. Desire is agony.

Everyone who’s read Call Me by Your Name understands not only the struggle both to speak and hold back their truth but also the shame that comes whenever we want something from someone. Desire is always cagey, always secretive — we’ll tell everyone we know about the person we crave to hold naked in our arms, but the very last one to know this will be the person we crave. Same-sex desire is even more guarded and watchful, especially in those who are just discovering their sexuality. Awkwardness and desire are strange bedfellows at a young age, but shame and inexperience are just as paralyzing as fear when we watch them tussling with the urge to be bold. You’re torn between the raw horniness that makes you dream scenes you hope to forget as soon as you’re up and the scenes you pray you’ll dream again and again — if dreams are all you’ll have. Silence and solitude exact a cost that leaves us emotionally wrecked. At some point we need to speak.

So “is it better to speak or die?” asks Elio, the narrator of Call Me by Your Name, quoting words penned by the sixteenth-century Marguerite de Navarre in her collection of tales known as The Heptameron. Marguerite was the sister of King Francis I and the grandmother of Henry IV, himself the grandfather of Louis XIV, hence she was plenty familiar with court intrigue, gossip, and the risks of opening up to someone who may not welcome what’s in our heart and could easily make us pay for it. Not everyone who has written to me has dared to speak their hearts to those they loved. Some have sought silence — slow, lingering droplets of quiet desperation taken every night before bedtime until they realize they’ve been dead and didn’t even know it. Many have written to me with the feeling of having missed their chance when someone tethered his rowboat to their jetty and simply asked them to jump in. “Some sentence or thought on almost every page,” writes a reader, “triggers tears and knots my throat and chest. Tears well up in my eyes on the subway, at my computer at work, walking down the street. Perhaps I am weeping in part because I know that at my age there is virtually no possibility of experiencing anything remotely comparable to what Elio experiences with Oliver.” Someone else writes, “Reading Call Me by Your Name made me feel a love I never had.” A happily married 50-plus colleague took me aside and said, “I don’t think I’ve ever been this much in love in my whole life.” “I'm 23,” tweeted someone else, “and have never felt such love, until I read Call Me by Your Name. I feel like I lived it.” “Elio and I are essentially the same age,” writes a teenage girl. “I have never really experienced his environment of the Italian summer…My experiences have only taken place halfway between nature and smog, however I have felt the same tension, fear, guilt and overwhelming love that you express perfectly through both Elio and Oliver…Finding myself in Elio was something I never expected and I’m positive that I won’t experience anything quite like it ever again. The first girl I ever loved remains…the only girl I have ever loved and though everything she and I shared…lives now as a secret between two friends.” “I finished reading Call Me by Your Name a couple of days ago,” writes someone else, “and wanted to let you know how much it affected me. It felt like a narration of my thoughts that I had systematically buried long ago.” And finally this from a 72-year-old: “I was fascinated by the idea of parallel lives where would I have been if I had gone with him, where would I be if I traveled alone? Maybe the point is just what do I do with the gift you have given me during the remainder of my life.”

There are at least 500 more such letters and emails.

Some find themselves weeping at the end of the film or the novel, not for what happened long ago or for what did not and might never happen in their own lives but for what has yet to happen, for the terrifying moment when they too will soon have to decide whether to speak or die. This from an 18-year-old: “[Your novel] gives me hope that one day I will meet someone whom I desire so badly that I’ll actually find it in me to make a move, the way Oliver is that someone for Elio. Maybe my Oliver will also turn out to be someone that I realize I love as well as desire.” She was crying for a week, as was this 15-year-old young man: “I stopped reading…because I didn’t want [the book] to end, didn’t want the wounds that you caused me to close, I didn’t want to overcome, for some reason that I have yet to find out. I wanted to stay a wreck, emotionally and mentally fragile….My mother handed me tissues because she had never seen me cry like this. I had finished your book and ‘moved’ is too weak a word to express what your book had done to me. Here a week later and it is literally all I can think about, not my midterms coming up, but…Elio and Oliver and if it is better to speak or die. You answered questions I didn’t even think I had.”

Indeed, the whole novel seems to enable the outing of all manner of feelings, feelings from Elio’s relentless inward journey and obsessive self-examination that readers are invited to identify with. Through Elio’s unfettered introspection they too feel exposed and sliced open like a crustacean without a slough, now forced to look at itself in the mirror. No wonder they are moved. The mask that is torn off their faces is not just the mask that conceals same-sex desires from themselves and from others. Rather, it is the realization, through Elio’s voice, of what they truly feel, who they truly are, what they fear, what bears their signature, and what coy little shenanigans they go through to read others and hope to reach them. Some identified with some effusive sentences in my novel so much that they had them tattooed on their bodies. They even attach photos of these tattoos. People have also tattooed peaches on themselves!

But what moves most people — and this is as true now as it was when the novel first came out — is the father’s speech. Here he not only tells his son to nurse the flame and “don’t snuff it out” after his son’s lover has left Italy, but that he too, the father, envies his son’s relationship with a male lover. This speech tears away the last vestige of a veil between reader and truth and is a moving tribute to the irreducible honesty between father and son.

Most readers have written to me about the scene because the father’s speech rekindles the very difficult moment when they decided to come out to their parents — or, as is often the case with people 60, or 70 or older, it reminds them of the conversation they wished they’d had but never did have with their parents. This is the loss no one forgets and from which no one recovers after seeing Call Me by Your Name. It bears the very essence of that precious and life-defining might-have-been moment that never happened and never will.

Here is the speech:

“Look…[y]ou had a beautiful friendship. Maybe more than a friendship. And I envy you. In my place, most parents would hope the whole thing goes away, or pray that their sons land on their feet soon enough. But I am not such a parent. In your place, if there is pain, nurse it, and if there is a flame, don’t snuff it out, don’t be brutal with it. Withdrawal can be a terrible thing when it keeps us awake at night, and watching others forget us sooner than we’d want to be forgotten is no better. We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster than we should that we go bankrupt by the age of thirty and have less to offer each time we start with someone new. But to feel nothing so as not to feel anything — what a waste!...

“… {L]et me say one more thing. It will clear the air. I may have come close, but I never had what you had. Something always held me back or stood in the way. How you live your life is your business. But remember, our hearts and our bodies are given to us only once. Most of us can’t help but live as though we’ve got two lives to live, one is the mockup, the other the finished version, and then all those versions in between. But there’s only one, and before you know it, your heart is worn out, and, as for your body, there comes a point when no one looks at it, much less wants to come near it. Right now there’s sorrow. I don’t envy the pain. But I envy you the pain.”

I received the anonymous letter sometime in early May 2008. At the time, I was staying at my parents’, because my father was suffering from throat and mouth cancer and was already in hospice care. He had refused radiation and chemotherapy, so I knew his days were numbered; though morphine was clouding his mind, he was still lucid enough to bandy a few quips about a host of subjects. He had stopped eating and drinking water because swallowing had become very painful. One afternoon while I was stealing a nap, the phone rang. A reporter I’d met in California had just received a letter, which she wanted to share with me. I told her to read it over the phone. After she’d read it I asked if she felt she could mail it to me. I wanted to show it to my father, I said, and explained he was dying. She felt for me. We talked about my father for a while. I told her I was trying to make it up to him these days, and that he too had been exceptionally easy to be with. How was it growing up with him? she asked. Tense, I replied. Always is, she added. Then the conversation ended, and she promised to mail the letter soon.

After hanging up, I got out of bed and went in to see him. Over the past few days, I had made a point of reading to him, which he liked a great deal, especially now that he was having difficulty focusing. But rather than read to him the memoirs of Chateaubriand, one of his favorite authors, and feeling buoyed by the letter I’d been read on the phone, I asked if he’d like me to read from the French translation of Call Me by Your Name, the galleys of which I had just received from Paris that very morning. Why not, since you wrote it, he said. He was proud of me. So I began to read from the very beginning, and soon enough I knew I was opening up a subject neither he nor I had ever broached before. But I knew he knew what I was reading and why I was reading it to him. This made me happy. Perhaps it made him happy as well. I’ll never know.

That evening, after the rest of us had dinner, he asked if I could continue reading from my novel. I was nervous about arriving at the father’s speech because I didn’t know how he’d react to it, though he was the kind of father who would have given that very same speech himself. But the speech was two hundred pages away still, and that would have taken many, many days. Perhaps I should skip some parts, I thought. But no, I wanted to read him the whole book. My father didn’t last long enough to hear the father’s speech. And when the letter finally arrived from California, he was already gone. His name was Henri, he was 93 years old, and he inspired everything I’ve written.

#andre aciman #CMBYK Book #call me by your name #cmbyn #elio x oliver

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dreamii-yume · 4 years ago

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I’m going to write a parallel ending about Leona for the new game AU cuz he’s my bias and I’m a hopeless simp ( *｀ω´)

......It’s still not enough. Even if he gets to spend more time with you, he has to share you with all of those pesky herbivores. Overwriting the code and waiting for you to open the game is too bothersome for someone as greedy and lazy like him. He wants all of you from your cute reactions during his SSR pulls to your flushed face upon seeing his premium content. Eventually, he finds a way to isekai you into the game. Into his own personal route where everyone else has forgotten their self-awareness and won’t interfere with your love story at all!! for the sake this self-indulgent ending, pls assume that he’s successful and that literally no one remembers. let leona succeed for once Remember that premium illustration which shows your POV as you’re getting pinned down by a predatory Leona?? Now you can experience the whole thing for real without any of that dumb “scene fades to black to imply that you were making love.” And there are no more choice boxes for you because this time, Leona is the one in control and he’ll make sure that your route ends with the one and only Happy Ending（╹◡╹）♡

*insert wedding cg of the player and Leona* Fufufu I’m going to pass out now _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):

Aah, yes. The biggest Leona simp I know has arrived. (΄◉◞౪◟◉｀) I honestly don’t know what else to write here, your simping juice is STRONG, Darling \(//∇//)\

All these codes and shit, Leond finds it troublesome to begin with.

...But it can’t help but piss him off, you know? Every time you get a special card, it would always look like you’re the most successful person in the whole world, ecstatic to the brim. Though he finds your reaction amusing to an extent, you’re adorable, but he’s just one of those who doesn’t understand the overall appeal of that happiness. Why waste your effort on a card when you can just have him all to yourself? It’s goddamn troublesome and you better reward him big after this is all said and done, but he can absolutely do it.

Leona can intertwine both of your reality together, alter the ending, and change the overall narrative of the game. It’s an eye for an eye, playing dirty is his speciality and if the others are too much of a goody-two-shoes to actually take actions for themselves well...Let’s just find out what happens once he presses this very tempting “Character Restoration” button in each of their files, eh?

You might think you’re dreaming at first when you find yourself at the hands of this very handsome man that looks very similar to the King of Savanaclaw himself. So, you decided to take advantage of it, wrapping your hands around him and let his kisses run around your neck. Looking back, his bites hurt, but you didn’t really consider common sense at that time, since the thought of it being a dream was embedded in your mind. A warning flag that you should’ve paid more attention to, but just didn’t.

You were pleased, drowning in the illusion of actually playing as the main character of your favorite game, knowing what will happen, and most importantly being able to romanticize someone. There are no more dialogue boxes that restricts what you can and can’t say now. This “dream” seemed to have become your own personal wonderland, one that you did not take seriously at all. You were having the time of your life, it was fun to take all the opportunities you can see by your own hand, you were so, so happy...

...So much so that you completely forgot that Twisted Wonderland isn’t supposed to have any lovey-dovey moments like this. Regardless of who the character is.

It feels like it’s been so long since I wrote for Leona, huh~? (*´꒳`*)

#twisted wonderland #leona kingscholar #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere #yandere leona kingscholar #AU Crumbs

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dinner-djarin · 4 years ago

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Until the Sun Rises

Part 2: Beautifully Catastrophic

Anakin x Jedi!reader

Summary: The Clone Wars have begun, and although you and Anakin remain best friends, you have sensed your relationship growing distant, both from your time spent apart in battle, and from the inclusion of a certain woman into his life. When you finally get a moment to share alone with him, however, things do not go as you would have wished.

Notes: Part 2 takes place probably a year or so after part 1. Reader is young, probably around 18 or 19. Another Happy Birthday wish to @hellotherebonky

Rating: T

Warnings: fluff/angst. Reader gets very angry, yikes.

Part 1

Only one year later would Anakin be made an official Jedi Knight, just after the start of the Clone Wars. And as much as you hoped for peace in the galaxy, you secretly revelled in the start of the fighting, as it meant you were finally able to leave the Temple on a regular basis. You and your Master fought many battles together, and you felt yourself grow stronger with The Force every day. Master Sente admitted they may have been wrong to keep you guarded all that time, as you proved yourself to be a very cunning and diligent warrior. You learned ten times faster out in the galaxy then you did by studying away in the record halls. Being out there, learning on the battlefield, this was what made you finally shine.

The one downfall, however, was the reality that your assignments kept you away from Anakin.

He and Obi-wan stayed close, even after he proved himself capable and passed his trials, so the two of them often went on missions together… a fate you once dreamed of for yourselves.

But in all honesty, you were thankful for the space from Anakin. Ever since Padme Amidala had been thrust back into his life, you were tormented by how different Anakin had become. He didn’t confide in you as often, and when he did, the sole topic was her. How he couldn’t stand to be away from her. How he dreamt only of her. How only she could tame the fire that seared his soul.

One might think that a war should be the cause of such an uprooting to your life - but the war paled in comparison to the return of a woman.

You could see what drew him to her. Her beauty was only paralleled by her intelligence and kindness. She was stunning - you might even say she was perfect.

Her angelic form could not rival whatever you had to offer him. In fact, you had nothing to offer him, as the Jedi Code stood between any dreams you could dare to possess. At least with her, only his own morals were tempted. He didn’t confide the true nature of his relationship with Padme to you, but in your heart, you knew things had gone too far. It broke you to see him throw away his future for her, but it broke you more that he would never do the same for you.

She was lovely enough to include you in her life too, obviously noting the fact that you were Anakin’s only true friend at the Temple. You spent lunches and dinners and nights out together at the opera. Over the short time you spent together you unconsciously came to like her. More than that, you admired her.

You admired how she continued to fight for the rights of those who had none. How she was always unafraid to speak her mind and stand against what she believed to be wrong. You also noticed just how strong willed she could be in those opinions; ready to take on any voices raised against her own.

And as much as you tried to be happy for the two best people in your life, you couldn’t help the way that they remind you of the neutron star collisions you were taught about as a youngling. Two stars burning hot and bright, caught in each other's gravity, encircling one another over and over in a beautiful rhythm, until time and space can no longer accommodate for their existence. A beauty burning so bright that it can only be catastrophic.

Padme is brilliant and caring, but she is determined and independent. Anakin is willing to fight to the end for what he loves, but he is only satisfied when it is him who makes the sacrifices, and him who makes the choices. He needs to control everything, but she cannot be controlled.

You’ve grown alongside Anakin, and you’ve grown to love Padme. Separate they are unstoppable. They believe they can change the galaxy. But you know neither sees that goal in the same way.

You recount the way Anakin fought so hard against the council, over and over, believing that he knew better, or his approach would suit the situation over theirs. Often, he was proven right. He was talented, but the council only thought of him as reckless and lucky, making him seek to push against them even harder. For nights on end, you would hear him rant on about his distrust in such a system.

“We would be better off to decide for ourselves what we thought was right” he would go on. “How can we put our faith in a group of old, washed up Master’s who have long forgotten what it’s like to put their own lives on the line.” Eventually he would finish with sentiments along the line of: “I think they’re just scared to make the decisions that needed to be made”

But you also knew how faithful Padme was to that same system. She believed in the power of diplomacy and democracy. A freedom made by sitting and talking through their issues. Words right out of the mouth of Anakin; words of distaste for a future he couldn't see himself a part of.

It kept you wondering just how long it might take for fate - for The Force - to intervene. You knew it would have to, in some form or another. It always did. You waited for the day they would implode. And you swore you would be by his side when they did.

You waited. But the day hadn’t come.

Instead, the Clone Wars dragged on. You were eventually Knighted. A relatively small ceremony for the troubled times, but even Anakin made his way to be there. He looked proud as you knelt before the council and agreed to do the will of The Force.

“I can’t believe I finally made it,” you whisper to Anakin as you shuffle out of the council room.

“I never doubted you would, little one.” His voice quiet too but resonating directly into your ear as he hunched over to place his mouth next to your face.

“I did. All the time,” you say as you tilt your face to meet his.

“You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.” Just then you realized you had worked yourselves away from the crowd into the hall where your adjacent rooms were held. “Come on, for old times’ sake.” His head nodding towards his own room, but you understood the final destination he had in mind.

You both carefully maneuvered your bodies over the ledge of his balcony onto the roof of the temple. “This was easier when we were children,” you remarked through laboured breaths.

“Everything was,” he responded, settling into the spot next to you so that your two thighs were barely grazing. The positioning reminded you of a night you spent together not so long ago. Watching the life of Coruscant fill the skies. Now the view had barely changed, save for the fact you were currently watching a setting sun instead of a vast darkness.

You both sat in silence, as you often did, words rarely necessary when you felt each other's presence so clearly already. Tuning into his aura, you felt a turbulence - an unease you had never felt before. What is that? You thought, forgetting how thoroughly lodged you were in his essence. “I’m sorry, Anakin. I didn’t mean to intrude-”

“It’s alright. I have nothing to hide, not from you. Never from you.” He admits as he turns to look into your eyes. You met his gaze instantly, and whatever you had felt in his aura had also taken root in his face. Besides the new scar, there were clear signs of worry and fear - his secrets slowly burdening him from the inside out.

“Please tell me, Anakin. You know you can tell me, whatever it is.” You attempt to reassure him. You know he must have a lot on his mind, and you know there is rarely anyone else he can truly confide in. His relationship with Padme meant he could not completely confide in Obi-wan, but the nature of his role and the severity of his actions during the Clone Wars caused a further rift between him and his wife.

“There’s so much. I don’t even know where to begin,” he starts.

“How about the beginning.” Your voice is almost teasing, until you see the bleakness in his weathered face. The horrors of war depleting the once joyful and youthful peace that filled him. Now he looked harsh and serious. He had told you of the things he had done, even before the Clone Wars began, and you could piece together how easily the added burdens had manifested in his soul.

“The council gave me a Padawan.” He spoke softly as he stared at the horizon.

“Already? They must have great faith in you.”

“I think the opposite. They wish to tame me, or to see me fail.” You could sense the hint of anger breaking through his otherwise stoic appearance.

“Anakin, I know you don’t trust them but-”

“But what? When have they ever trusted me?!” His quiet demeanor abruptly dissolving. “Why should I think they’re doing this out of my best interest?”

“How has it been?” You attempt to diffuse him. “What are they like?”

Anakin takes a moment to regain his peace. “She’s like me, Ahsoka.”

“Then she’ll be trouble.” You say with a jab to his ribs.

“Hey.” He nudges you back, and you almost slip from your spot to the balcony below. “Oh Maker, sorry.” He begins again, “I just fear she’s too much like me. She deserves a Master who is knowledgeable of The Force, who can help her find strength and stability. She is wild, and takes risks-”

“And is that bad? She sounds exactly like you. Maybe she needs someone to show her that trusting herself is as important as trusting The Force.”

“I don’t know if I can be that for her. I don’t even know if I trust myself anymore.” his voice reaching a quiet once again. So low, you understand that there is more to what he has shared.

“What’s really going on, Anakin?” You sense his trouble, and you know he has not fully divulged the root of his strife. In a moment of weakness, you let your emotions surface and ask, “Is it Padme?”

“What!? Why would it be Padme? Why would you ask that?” But his voice is too defensive for you to leave the subject alone.

“I just mean keeping the secret. Keeping her a secret. It must be weighing on you. And on top of everything-”

“On top of what?” He asks sternly. But his question stirs something in you, and pokes at all the thoughts you had bottled up over the months of observing the two of them.

“I mean you two already fight enough as it is. You get jealous and she gets angry. You just never seem to be on the same page.”

“You don’t approve of Padme?” He questions harshly.

“Of course I approve of Padme, as if I even need to. I mean she’s perfect. She’s almost too damn good for you-”

“What so I don’t deserve her? You think she should be with someone else?” You saw the aforementioned jealousy rising back up in him, further proving your point.

“I think you’re throwing away your life for a relationship you aren’t even happy in!”

“How could you know If I’m happy?”

“Because I know you, Anakin! I’ve known you for most of your life. I’ve seen you happy, and you aren’t happy with her.”

“It’s not that simple-”

“How is it not? You fight all the time; you don’t agree on anything. Is it supposed to be this hard? Why are you even still with her if she makes your life so difficult?”

“Because she’s my wife!” He admits loudly, a contrast to the deafening silence that follows.

You stare at him for what feels like hours. Your tongue runs dry from the stale air that passes through your agape mouth. Several minutes pass before you realize you hadn’t taken a proper breath.

“What are you talking about, Anakin.” These are the only words you can muster, and they come out painfully against the scratch of your dry throat.

“Just after the assignment where I guarded Padme,” he begins, “I lost my arm, and the Clone Wars began, and there was so much going on. I never realized how easily it could all be taken away. I almost died fighting Dooku.”

“So you decided to get married?” Your mind running too fast, too cluttered with thoughts to string together a calm response. “You lived, Anakin. You’re alive. So you decided to throw it all away because you almost died. Because you realized you could have died. We are Jedi. We could die any day. That’s the freaking point! How could you do something so foolish?!” You scream your words at him like blaster bolts, hoping for the first time ever that you could hurt him, like he had hurt you all these years.

“It was not foolish, I loved her then, and I love her now.” He admits to you angrily.

“And I loved you. I've loved you since the day you came here. And you never gave me a second glance. You never even tried to love me back. I've been here for you the whole time. Through everything. And still, you can't seem to care for me at all. I don't even know why I should care. I should have left you alone years ago. What have I ever gotten out of this? Pain. Hurt. Anger. You’ve pushed me to my breaking point time and time again. You have been more challenging than anything I faced in the trials. But I tried. I tried to be here for you, and hear every problem, every complaint. But you were never here for me. Not once. I’m done.” you say as you slide off the roof. “I cannot believe that all this time you’ve been married to her. And you never once thought to tell me. I am your best friend. At least I thought I was. Maker, Anakin, no wonder everything implodes around you.”

As you retreated, you felt the pain resonate from his aura. Your words tore at his soul and left him to bleed out. But you had enough. You were destroyed, and you needed him to know how deeply he had wounded you first. So, you abandoned him on that roof. You walked away from the one person who you truly loved. With every step you felt the strings of your attachment snap, you felt his presence leaving you in a way it never had before.

But he let you go. Not because he wanted to. But because you were right. He hadn’t been there for you. All those years you had been his crutch. You had listened to every childish rant. You had talked through every problem with him. But what had he done for you? He used you, and he knew it. What good would it do to beg you to stay? He could only be so selfish.

But you were also wrong, because he did love you. He should have shown it better. He should have told you long ago. But his world had become a destructive mess, and he decided he deserved all the pain and torment it had brought. Anakin wasn’t even sure how he loved you. It surely wasn’t the same way he felt about Padme. No, that love was raw. It was fire, and passion. It burned him alive. He loved you softly, like a warm embrace. You brought comfort and joy, even when the world was crumbling around him. Maybe he knew he didn’t deserve such happiness. Maybe that's why he let you walk away.

Part 3

#anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin x you #star wars #the clone wars #TCW #anakin angst #reader insert #prequel series #star wars prequels #attack of the clones #revenge of the sith #jedi #sith #jedi reader

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cheesy09 · 4 years ago

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What are your top 5 Kiro dates? No pressure, my dear friend😆😘

@keliosyfan You cannot send me something like this and expect me to keep quiet 😆 Thank you so much for this delicious, finger-licking ask, friend!! But do I really got to choose??? 🥺 I LOVE ALL HIS DATES!!

Keeping my thoughts/analysis under the cut because this one's going to be a long one. Also, am not ranking them because they're each special to me in their own way. Plus, am only going to concentrate on the dates in EN so far.

Anyway, without further ado, Kiro Date spoilers ahead!

✨Light Pursuit Date

There’s a simple reason why I love this date so so much. It literally contains EVERYTHING I love about their relationship, plus it’s in line with the main story.

“You’re the light I’ve spent my whole life chasing” is such a strong and powerful message to use for a couple, especially since it aligns perfectly with message that this game’s story is trying to deliver. The imagery of light pursuing being used to represent their relationship puts it on an almost spiritual/cosmic level which is just so powerful to me.

The mutual pining: Both MC and Kiro long for each other so strongly throughout this whole date and it’s so obvious to see. MC gets desperate enough to see him that she even starts dreaming about him. And no matter what Helios said on that date, we know why he really invited her to that party.

The undeniable chemistry: The attraction, the thick innuendo, the electricity that is just crackling between them; it’s so tangible, you can cut it with a knife. Talk about delectable... yum!

The angst: As heartbreaking as the angst is, the drama involved between Kiro and MC is juicy as heck, which is another reason why I love their relationship so much. It makes their relationship feel very very real. The angst is what gives birth to the high strung emotions and passion between them. Realities they’re trying to fight, and the feelings they can’t possibly deny.

TWIN-FLAME ENERGY EVERYWHERE: As I said before, Kiro and MC just cannot deny the way they are drawn to each other, and this plays big in the twin-flame theme they have going for them. This is especially obvious in MC’s case. She knows Helios is supposed to be close to a stranger to her, and yet her body can’t help but react to him the way it would react to Kiro despite the danger that radiates from him; like her very soul knows exactly who it is behind the silver hair and cold eyes. I mean we even get this scene:

MC: Aren’t you a member of Black Swan? Why did you approach me?

I closed my eyes and finally asked the question.

Helios quivered inconspicuously under my palm, and soon he spoke in a low and sneering voice.

Helios: Why are you under that misconception?

MC: Because...

Because I thought you were familiar, because my soul quivered involuntarily when being close to you, and because... of a ridiculous assumption.

These words are just so powerful in so many ways because what MC is saying is that she finds Helios familiar because her soul resonates with him, like it happened with someone else before...

In relation to the twin flame concept, this date is a huge representation of stage five and six in the relationship; “the test” and “the chase.” By this point, Kiro and MC’s relationship is being put the test and MC’s chase for Kiro finally begins.

✨Stardust Date

Another date that goes hand in hand with Light Pursuit Date, except with Kiro this time instead of Helios. Plus points that this too is in line with the main story.

MORE YEARNING. And what’s so great about this is that you can actually feel what MC feels. That’s how strongly Kiro can make you pine after him.

That steamy confession of love: It wasn’t just the passionate words that Kiro kept whispering to her, but also the tremendous amount of longing and desire in his voice that belied those very words.

Kiro’s sexiness: Please, you cannot tell me you didn’t find Kiro downright seductive in that outfit. I absolutely love his fashion sense and this one really showed off the lean yet firm build of his body, and that scorching blue-eyed gaze was just- pheeew!!

The danger he radiates: After MC catches him on that phone call, the feeling of oppression that Kiro gives off does intimidate you, but also excites and thrills you at the same time. The duality with this man is just so well-written.

The build up: From the fiery confession, to the obvious yearning and attraction, to the flirting and teasing, and the angst, I’d say this date had one of the best buildups to a kiss overall.

THE KISS: After all that glorious build-up, the execution of the kiss was absolutely brilliant, with Kiro’s statement of “the reward I want more right now... is you” being the breaking point. All the yearning and desire that had built up over the course of the date had been let loose in that one sexy kiss. I ABSOLUTELY LOVED, LOVED the way the desire went both ways. MC pulling him closer and demanding for more from him and him responding just as passionately, was HOT.

Extra thoughts: The necklace that he gives to her on this date is an item that hasn’t been brought up on other dates, which I find a bit weird since they mentioned how important it seemed to Kiro. Another reason why I need this date to be referenced in the future.

What I find interesting about him giving her a necklace is that even though it’s a symbol of love and affection, it’s not as powerful as a ring would be, showing that he wasn’t ready to take the next stage in the relationship. This is important foreshadowing because he knew what exactly could happen to them in the future.

✨Treasure Date

A personal favourite of mine because it shows just how stubborn, delicate and insecure Kiro can actually be.

MC’s unexpected confession of love: Kiro’s not the only whose been pouring out his heart to her. (I’m assuming) Before the events of Chapter 14, MC has done her own fair share of confessing to him on a number of dates; the one in Treasure Date being the most notable. I held my breath when she said “I will... always be crazily in love with you” to him, because it had been the first time I’d seen her outright declare her love to a love interest so earnestly.

The supportiveness: MC just being there for him and comforting him when he was at his weakest is just so heartwarming and satisfying to see.

THE TENDERNESS AND LOVE THEY RADIATE FOR EACH OTHER :’D

BLUSHY KIRO: (Can you tell why I chose to put in that CG?) I don’t know about you, but I feel my soul ascend to heaven every time I see Kiro blush. It’s the most adorable thing on the planet!

THE BIG BABY VIBES HE RADIATES ON THIS DATE MAKE ME WANT TO CUDDLE WITH HIM FOREVER UGH!!!

The pirate and treasure theme: This is a theme that is brought up often in Kiro and MC’s story. Dates as well as the main story. It also goes hand in hand with the light pursuit theme. MC’s determination to turn into a pirate in search of her treasure (Kiro) exactly mirrors the way Kiro referred to himself as a pirate in search of his hidden treasure (MC) before his reunion with her at the convenience store, in his 3rd Anniversary Interview. It really goes to show just how much they desire and treasure each other.

✨Prayer Date

Another hot, steamy date? Yes, ma’am! Kiro’s got a whole arsenal full of these kind of dates.

It is seriously cute how the two of them are always wishing for a “forever” with each other, and how they’re willing to go as far as to rely on superstitions for it HAHA.

Ahem. That visually appealing shower scene. Need I say more?

The date offered me another reason to label Kiro a hopeless romantic. Hello? A candlelit beach??? SWOON~!

The dash of angst: The foreshadowing. Over the course of the date, MC’s numerous failed attempts at doing something to ensure their “forever” had accumulated, and this was the first date we got to see her insecurity in regards to her relationship with Kiro. Again, these high strung emotions is what evoked some passionate desire for him in her.

This date was full of firsts. Not only was it the first time we got to see MC’s insecurity in regards to her relationship with Kiro, but it was also the first time we got to see just how... intense Kiro can be in showing his affection. Also, am I wrong in assuming that this was the first time they got so... physical with each other?

Another excellent date with excellent build-up to the end: From the pleasant start to the date, with MC being full of hope, to the unexpected encounter in the showers just to wet your appetite for this boy (pun intended haha), to the consecutive disappointments and emotional buildup made for a fabulous recipe for the delicious result we were served by the end of the date. Mmm, a spicy one at that.

✨Flowers Date

Honestly, this was the date that made me fall for him super-super hard. It was just full of innocence and the purest of love, no questions asked.

Kiro’s charm is on full blast in this date.

The symbolism brought out by flowers in showing how similar Kiro and MC are, is really strong on this date. They both decide to each get a gift for the other that is supposed to remind them of each other and then split up. When they came back to reveal what they each had gotten each other, they both ended up getting the same thing: a bouquet of daisies (a symbol of purity and innocence).

Kiro’s wholesome love for the simplest things in life (like flower fields) is once again brought out.

THIS DATE WAS SO ROMANTIC. He takes her to the flower field on a bicycle! And they even take off running down the hill together, hand-in-hand, and he spins her around like some kind of princess in the middle of it!

MC did daisy divination, and what was the result she got? *whispers loudly* HE LOVES ME.

Kiro being a parallel to sleeping beauty is ingenious as well as romantic in so many ways. (Plus MC being tempted enough by his sleeping appearance, that she kissed his eyelids had me grinning like a mad fool).

Kiro says some of the most romantic things on this date in the most affectionate and tender of voices:

Notable line 1:

Kiro: Well, MC, maybe you really are my “prince charming.” Because only you can awaken me from darkness, no matter when.

Notable line 2:

Kiro: There was only you in my eyes, wasn’t there?

Notable line 3:

Kiro: Because... You are the whole world in my eyes. Nothing else can compare. My spring... is you.

✨Honorable mention: Miracle Date

This is another fun and wholesome date that always seems to put a smile on my face, but also comes with some strong and sad foreshadowing.

Kiro and MC are just so uplifting of each other in this date and you just love to see it.

THE INTIMACY WHEN HE WRAPPED HER IN HIS ARMS FROM BEHIND AND LACED THEIR FINGERS TOGETHER!!!

Dude, they’re so in sync with each other, it’s not even funny!

I really loved how this date works in a bit of self-introspection for the both of them (actually, a lot of his dates do). We know that Kiro and MC both push each other to become better, and this date really showcased that.

Another date with another strong message.

I melted at the way he says that her very existence is a miracle to him. Like, just the fact that she exists in this world is enough of a blessing for him.

THE LONGING IN HIS VOICE: Kiro so fervently wishing that their time together would slow down because he knew what was to come, was just so heartachingly beautiful, it made me tear up a bit.

#mr love queen's choice #mr love queen's choice kiro #mr love #mr love kiro #mlqc #mlqc kiro #keliosyfan asks #cheesy replies

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latenightcinephile · 3 years ago

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#719: 'Hour of the Wolf', dir. Ingmar Bergman, 1968.

Ingmar Bergman: <makes Hour of the Wolf> Me: that's a trap. Me: <walks into trap>

According to people who have seen a lot more of Ingmar Bergman's filmography than I have, this is an interesting actor's piece, but not a very successful film overall. They cite the overall reliance on suspension of disbelief, and argue that if you have to actively tell your audience to put their critical thinking faculties on hold for the plot to be persuasive, then you haven't made a very good film and you shouldn't pretend your artifice is deliberate. One of the things I've always tried to avoid when writing about the films on the list is pretension. If I think a film isn't very good on its own merits, then I don't feel the need to defend its watchability. Something can be important without being good or fun, and I try not to pretend I know more than people who make a living discussing films just because I have a degree and can scroll to the sources at the bottom of a Wikipedia article.

All that being said, I think Hour of the Wolf is a trap Bergman has set for people who analyse films, and I think I can discuss the trap without falling into it myself. I think. Let's see.

The plot of Hour of the Wolf is pretty simple: A woman tells us the story of how her husband, an artist, disappeared. They moved together to an island owned by a wealthy couple who lived in a nearby castle. The artist Johan (Max von Sydow) is beset by nightmares about strange figures, and forces himself to stay up all night, even through the hour just before dawn, which is where the film's title comes from. The wife, Alma (Liv Ullmann) is visited one day by an old woman who knows where Johan keeps his diary, and she encourages Alma to read it. Reading the diary, Alma discovers that Johan is hallucinating the figures from his nightmares, and also his former lover, Veronica Vogler (Ingrid Thulin).

Johan and Alma are invited to the castle for dinner, along with other inhabitants of the island, who we've seen through flashbacks are the same people pestering Johan. Everyone is a big fan of Johan's work, and everyone knows his history with Veronica, which makes the whole dinner awkward bordering on eerie. They seem to view art as a commodity, and artists as figures to be humiliated as a kind of public service, but all in good fun. During their late-night discussions, Johan admits to Alma his previous traumas, which test her faith in her husband. They are invited to another dinner, and promised that Veronica will be there. Johan shoots Alma (fatally, he believes) and runs to the castle to be reunited, where he discovers that the guests are the nightmarish beings he feared. Nonetheless, he finds Veronica, but is unable to make love to her while the assorted spectres watch. Alma finds Johan in the swamps, where he is attacked by the monsters before disappearing. Back in the film's framing device, Alma asks if she was unable to protect Johan because she didn't love him enough, or if she loved him too much.

Before diving into the more meta analysis, I think it's worth saying that this film is really good, and that Bergman makes it compelling in an interesting way. Watching it (and especially the 2016 remaster) I thought that it could be summed up as 'crisp'. Bergman and his cinematographer, Sven Nykvist, use sparse settings and frame them from unusual angles that highlight textures. Everything is still and quiet, and it feels like you have a sense of how every object in this film feels. Because of that crispness and quietness, it becomes easy to share the fears and internal experiences of Alma and Johan, who are frequently filmed in such tight shots that they physically block the camera from having a full view. That silent claustrophobia is what makes this film so unsettling, although there aren't many points where that unsettlingness becomes outright horror.

A lot of the critics that disliked Hour of the Wolf weren't able to make that leap of belief that Bergman seemingly wants from the audience. With a director as renowned as Bergman, who frequently made heavily allegorical films, people were quick to read the film's content, searching for what was autobiographical in order to fit it into the larger pattern of his work. Critical analyses abound in which Johan is a stand-in for Bergman, in which the character is read through theories of psychoanalysis and sexuality; parallels are drawn with Mozart and E.T.A. Hoffmann, August Strindberg and Henry Fuseli. Johan's nightmares are drawn from dreams that Bergman acknowledged having, so it must be autobiographical; Bergman must be trying to express something about himself.

Okay. But if he is trying to express something about himself, let's step back to look at the film's plot, retold in broader strokes to make the overall picture clearer. An artist meets some people who are fans of his work, and who seem to know his history and behaviour better than his wife does. They oppress him to the point that he turns to violence to get rid of them - in fact, this is the one common denominator of all of Johan’s violence: people observe him too closely. All that changes when the fans offer to reunite him with his lost object of obsession. They all love her too, you see. It must be tempting to be rewarded by the people who know you best, but they never seem to want that for your sake, only for theirs.

Now imagine you've made a film about that, and fans of your work, who seem to know your history, try to tell something about you through it. They observe you and your work closely. They want to use it to figure out how you feel about your past. They like your work, but in the confines by which they understand it - as an allegory, as a commodity, and as a reflection of you.

This is why I think this film is a trap.

Now, if you follow the instructions Bergman lays out, you'll escape alive. Start with the opening credits, during which you can hear the film's crew setting up for a take. That's your first hint: this is a fiction; it's been carefully constructed to make you believe it's real. Enjoy Hour of the Wolf as a film and as a story. Bergman has drawn some elements from his own life, as all artists do, but don't let yourself be distracted by which things are real: Bergman has nightmares, but he's probably never killed anyone, and anyway, that's the whole point. This film spends a lot of time trying to make you decide whether the monsters are real or not. Ignore that. Assume they exist, because the film will eventually tell you. Did they exist beforehand and start haunting Johan, or did Johan will them into existence? Would they exist if Johan wasn't still obsessed with Veronica? Has Johan really done those awful things, or does he just say he has to try and drive Alma away?

Hour of the Wolf is just a story that ends in a swamp. Analysing it is a whole other swamp of its own.

#1001 movies #Ingmar Bergman #Hour of the Wolf #genuinely good films #meta #it's a trap

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greenhappyseed · 4 years ago

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We need to talk about All Might.

After Chapter 309, everyone seems to be screaming DEATH FLAG (more than normal), and I wouldn’t ordinarily agree given the fakeouts we’ve seen before. However, AM isn’t given much to do yet (except look cute in his sunnies) and doesn’t seem to be in a good position to grow as a person. It makes me sad bc there is a lot of potential with AM, and it all seems pushed aside in favor of Endeavor’s narrative, which I don’t love. As a ::cough cough:: older BnHA fan in a workaholic profession, I want to see the larger hero society narrative use AM to ask if you can be a hero (and therefore of any value to society) when you’re old and/or have less strength/power/endurance than you used to have. What happens when you WERE an equal, and then you lose a step along the way (note there may be a parallel to Bakugo’s/Aizawa’s post-war condition on this theme)? Or, given the focus on teenagers and the role of the “new generation” in rebuilding society, let’s ask whether AM made the right choice in sticking with his teenage ideals through adulthood. Was he right to give up EVERYTHING for his dream, only to crash land into a nightmare? I mean, the dude destroyed himself for years and then watched his life’s work crumble in a matter of weeks. Can he pick himself up, powerless, and still find a new way to help? In BHNA, all of the top heroes have major flaws (a meta for another time!) and a chance at redemption, so I really want to see AM do the same thing.

AM starts the story as the singular, self-proclaimed Symbol of Peace, which was a mission he gave himself as a naive, idealistic middle school student(!!!) Through Nana Shimura, AM received the power to make his teenage ambition a reality and then ... kept at it for 40 years. Alone. Without critical reflection. In Vigilantes, we learn the cost of this relentless pursuit is that AM has no real friends and no social life. Even among other top heroes, he’s not an approachable peer, but the hired gun brought in to clean up the biggest, baddest disasters before he’s immediately called out to the next one. To the extent he socializes after a big win, it’s to talk to the media and sign autographs, not debrief or bond with fellow heroes. The guy has charisma and can do stage banter all day, but he has no idea how to have an actual functioning relationship with colleagues. At the beginning of BNHA, it’s been 20ish years since AM spoke to Torino, 10 years since he spoke to Endeavor, and 5 years since Nighteye. He does keep in touch with Tsukauchi, but he’s more like a “work husband” than a best friend.

When Deku meets him, AM is holding it together on the surface, but is really in mental distress. AM is the first hero in the story whose facade is ripped away (initially to us readers, then eventually to everyone in universe). Unable to do the hero work that defines him for more than 3 hours a day, he seems to spend the rest of his pre-UA time wandering around aimlessly. He’s lost his sense of purpose, has nobody to confide in (he may not “lie” but he definitely doesn’t tell anyone complete truths), and he is indifferent to his own survival. He is certain Nighteye’s prediction is coming true, and he’s looking for a successor because he HAS to before time runs out, not because he wants to. If he can pass on OFA then he can die, ideally in a blaze of glory. And, if not for Deku, he would have let the slime villain kill Bakugo and told himself he can’t save everyone. In Deku he sees his younger self’s ideals and decided his new purpose is to build the next Symbol of Peace, not just do a handoff. With a true successor secured, he can really go for one last big heroic act.

Except it doesn’t work out as planned. Deku — lonely and idealistic himself — desperately needs AM around for approval. And AM, with extra time on his hands, seems to enjoy being needed by his boy, like a parent with a toddler. As hard as they both aim to create the next AM, Deku is his own person (as all children are), which makes the process trickier than either one anticipated. At first AM tries imitating Torino and trains Deku through physical activity and battle, the same way Torino punched a grieving, teenage AM around. AM encourages Deku to sacrifice himself, just because AM also did it for 40 years. But these tactics just don’t work for Deku. AM gets (rightly) scolded by Recovery Girl. Then AM sends Deku to Torino, who teaches Deku Full Cowling and scolds AM for not telling Deku the truth about AFO — and for this one time, Torino is right. Slowly, fuller truths start coming out from AM, and in return Deku learns to protect himself and ask his mentor questions rather than merely imitate. Both begin to grow and change for the better.

After Kamino, Inko uses her leverage to convince AM to stop the blaze of glory nonsense. He wants to be her successor as parent to Deku, and she’s not going to allow it if AM is going to drive her son towards needless self-sacrifice. This seems to take root, and we later see AM openly defy Nighteye’s prediction because he wants to be with Deku. He starts jogging! We even see him confide in Aizawa he has decided to live. Even if he’s not always sure how to give his new life purpose, and he bristles at needing to be protected, he’s accepting his post-pro existence. Progress!

Finally, AM comes into his own as a teacher and member of the old guard with experience to share. He may be using “Teaching for Dummies” as a shortcut, but he’s recognizing his own failings and trying to improve. He tells Deku to quit imitating him, full stop, finally giving Deku permission to become his own hero with his own style. AM takes initiative to teach Deku Air Force, and really guides Deku through the use of the power until Deku becomes proficient. AM also gets actively involved in coaching other students (not as much as he should, but it’s something). AM will similarly counsel Endeavor later, saying Endeavor has to walk his own path and answer for himself why he has his power. AM is building new relationships, new skills, and forming an identity outside of punching things!

Of course, we still see signs AM is a work in progress. Staying up too late at night to do research on prior OFA users for Deku. Diving to protect a woman from a falling streetlight (saved only by a fast-acting Bakugo). At the same time, we see that Deku is coming into his own with his 1A friends. And Deku is no longer looking back to AM for approval (both literally when jumping away and figuratively as part of Deku’s decision-making processes). AM seems both proud and sad, as is natural when a parental figure watches their child become independent.

Fast forward to 309, and a powerless AM leaves all the growth behind to help Deku, Endeavor, Jeanist, and Hawks find the LOV. On the good side, AM isn’t keeping secrets anymore (arguably, telling Jeanist and Hawks about OFA should have involved a consultation with Deku, but okay). Moreover, AM isn’t useless in this fight; he can provide financing, emotional support, police connections, UA connections, and Oracle/guy-in-a-chair backup to the active heroes. But what will this change tell us about AM? Can he ever really get comfortable with this role or is he there just out of duty? Can he actually deliver some hard truths to Deku about AM’s own experience if/when Deku stretches himself too thin? Is this new role respected by the other heroes? If not, will he be tempted to return to battle to be “valuable”? To give his life for Deku so he can claim one last “win” by saving? Or give his life for Deku because he actually loves him and has something personal to fight for? All of these questions bear on where an older, powerless person — that is, an outcast — fits into society and how a lifelong loner can find their role within a group. (Boy, this sounds like a familiar BnHA theme!)

I feel like, if AM dies just to become a vestige, all of these deeper questions are unexplored and we’re just copying Star Wars plot points without any added meaning. I’m not satisfied AT ALL with AM living rent free in Deku’s head and robbing others of his wisdom/experience (which he was just starting to share!!!). Likewise, if AM dies as a plot device so Deku can stand as a hero on his own, or tap into his inner rage or whatever, well, that’s also copied from Star Wars — and it seems to counter what we’re starting to see with Deku calling his own shots and AM supporting. Unlike Torino and AM, who don’t talk for years, I want to see Deku be his own hero AND have his mentor in his life. I want BnHA to keep resisting the absent adult trope, because it’s entirely possible (and realistic!) for grownups to be their own people while having mentors and parental figures in their life. It’s an adjustment for a parental figure to watch their teen become an adult, but it doesn’t mean the parental figure just ghosts and ceases to matter as an influence.

Similarly, if AM turns to sacrifice, it will turn AM’s life story into a cautionary tale with no growth. How can a story about saving people who have done bad things have a good guy succumb to his worst instinct, with nobody to save him? How can AM’s life lesson be “make friends now and learn to give and take in a relationship, otherwise you’ll get too old and it’ll be too late and when you aren’t powerful you’ll have to take a hit to have value”? Even if his sacrifice ultimately allows Deku to win against AFO it feels hollow against the larger narrative. Unlike pre-war Bakugo, we already know AM will self-destruct for others. AM wanting to take on the world alone and die “heroically” is the PROBLEM that drives his pre-Kamino failures, not the solution. And if AM can’t escape this and become comfortable in society post-retirement, who can???

I’m worried we are going to see AM’s growth cut short while Endeavor, Hawks, and the LOV get a shot at redemption, which feels problematic. Of course life isn’t fair, and not everyone gets to have a second act, but it feels wrong for the BNHA narrative to punish someone who is trying (and who wants to help Deku save the villains). Maybe you can argue it’s AM’s fault that the hero society became corrupt, so it’s a cosmic balance for him to die watching it fall. Or maybe the other heroes will realize AM needs their help too (not just Deku) and keep him safe. (Maybe Endeavor will save him in a parallel to Bakugo and Deku.) Much is TBD, but chapters 306-309 make me worry.

#all might #yagi toshinori #mha 309 #mha spoilers #mha #my hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha all might #toshinori yagi #bnha meta #bnha all might

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lolmyeyebags · 4 years ago

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Tempting. But nah, I’m good. Unless? ;)

Summary: You find yourself attempting to swindle a witch. Naturally, it doesn’t work out and she casts a curse on you. How were you supposed to solve this curse before seven days?

Warnings: No smut but it’s basically an intro to a smut series; a prompt?

Word Count: 5,538

A/N: Oneshot? Series? We’ll find out in the next episode of-

Ao3 Link

This is her place, right? You’re sure this is the place you agreed to meet up on. You’ve double checked, no, triple checked your messages with the witch you met on bledit, Tituba. You’ve been to her house before but never in the dark. With your paranoia, you could only imagine how mortifying it would be if you were to arrive in a random demon or witch’s home, knocking on their door, and possibly being eaten or roasted alive. According to her message, you were at the correct destination... which was in the outskirts of the devildom, in the middle of the night.

At least, it felt like nighttime. Since the devildom had no sun - excluding Lord Diavolo’s private beach - your body had to adapt to the climate change and learned to tell time in a different way, and by that it meant you relied on your gut feeling and occasionally, checked the time on your DDD.

The gravel crunched and shuffled with each step you took, and with each step, your gnawing anxiety grew stronger. Please, there’s no way this is the wrong house. Although, maybe it was since it was pitch black and you were a powerless human in the night - ok - get a grip.

You know, maybe this wasn’t your brightest idea. I mean, what if you died in the most embarrassing way? What if a creature of Devildom decided to make you their food, feed you to their offspring, and leave your naked and mutilated body to be found. That’s just… no, you’d rather not think about that. You'd simply pass away if you let yourself die looking crusty as fuck.

Though, you wouldn't have found yourself in your little nighttime adventures if you'd just get a grip and master lucid dreaming the normal way. If you just had enough patience and practiced in a neat and timely routine, you would’ve mastered lucid dreaming and the ability to shift into your ‘desired reality’ as those clickclock creators instructed.

But who were you kidding? You know your dumb ass could never have the patience and consistency to do that. That’s like, some normie type of shit. And you? A whole ‘nother breed. Those foolish little clickclock creators have no idea that you were basically y/n and have a main character complex. What? Don’t look at me like that, me. We’re built? Different.

“Lucid dreaming isn’t that hard, it requires patience and understanding, yeah right,” you mocked the various clickclock creators and sent a pebble flying to a pile of rocks. “Stupid clickclock, stupid lucid dreaming, stupid hard and unobtainable 2d waifus and husbandos.”

All you wanted was to lucid dream once! Just once is enough. You wanted to open you eyes to an animated world and see your beloved 2D characters materialize right before you. Of course, you know it wasn’t all that possible to do in real life. I mean, if even the hardcore otaku himself hasn’t managed such a feat, how could you - the lowly human - accomplish what Mr. The Lord of Shadows couldn’t do for centuries?

And yeah, he’s the Lord of Shadows alright. If you learned anything from your writepod addiction in middle school, it’s the ability to spot a poorly disguised fan fiction based off of celebrities in real life from a mile away. Although, it did surprise you to find that the great author of the legendary TSL series was THE Simeon himself.

I mean, Simeon? Hello? The holiest of angels? That was a shocker.

OOF! You face planted into something soft, almost like a jello cup you’d eat in the summer. You were snapped out of your thoughts as you fell on the prickly leaves, ass first.

“Oh, what the fuck?” You balled your hands into fists and attempted to rub the disorientation away, and standing at a good 6’10” was quite possibly the tallest being you’ve ever laid your eyes on - and the most amusing to make fun of.

The witch fixed her gaze onto you, “you’re late.”

You felt a swirl of emotions wash over you. I wonder how you were going to torment her into casting a lucid dreaming spell on you. Or better yet, have her teach you how to shift realities with her witchy powers. Oh! Or even better, blackmail her into sending you off into a parallel universe in which your favorite anime are real and you were the all mighty ruler of that world, giving you the powers to switch dimensions and warp your realities with a snap of your fingers.

A grin tugged at your lips, “what’re yOu looking at Cocksucker69?”

The witch, Tituba, pressed her lips into a tight lipped smile and hissed, “I thought I told you to not refer to me as that, xXdiavoloismybitchXx.”

“I—“

“Did you forget what followed after you endeavored to bring me humiliation in public? Forget the way those demons turned around, their jaws slack with shock as I uttered your bledit username, exposing you as bledit’s most notorious troller, and all of your-“

“YES! I mean no! No, I haven’t forgotten. You right, my bad,” you shivered at the memory and shook your head.

It was as if it happened yesterday, because it did. It wasn’t the wide array of emotions the demons bore that bothered you. It was the fact Tituba emphasized your username, while you were in the entrance of RAD, no less!

You were one of the two only human exchange students and that made you quite a celebrity in the school. The demons knew that! They weren’t fools. Your username probably struck a cord that inspired a string of gossip and rumors to spread, that would no doubt reach Diavolo. You couldn’t bear the thought of reliving the wave - no, tsunami - of embarrassment that washed over you. No, it felt more like it drowned you. Like damn, that witch really had it out for you!

“Right so,” with a cheshire grin, you prod her arm with your elbow, “where were we?”

She groaned in exasperation.

“Child, you are accelerating my expiration,” the witch brought two fingers and pinched the space between her eyebrows, smoothing out her wrinkles, no doubt caused by you.

“I’ll behave this time, I swear! Scout’s honor!”

“Despite my knowing of my inevitable regret, I’m obligated to continue,” the witch pushed her door open and ushered you in. You stepped inside and a fresh crisp breeze licked at your cheeks. You sighed in content, welcoming the verdant ambiance of Tituba’s cottage.

The lace of your shoes became undone in a second, and in the next, you soared in the air and flopped unceremoniously on Tituba’s sex pit. It wasn’t an actual sex pit though. It was simply an indentation on the wooden floor that Tituba renovated into a conversation pit, which turned into her designated sleeping area, thanks to your persistence.

Pillows, throw pillows, plushies, fluffy blankets - if you had to choose a place to sleep for eternity, it would be Tituba’s sex pit. Your eyes widened in delight as it settled on the long shape of the body pillow you gifted Tituba as an apology gift… After you fell against her cauldron she was using to ferment blood moon water. It spilled all over the floor and became ‘unclean’ as she called it.

“Oh!!! The Barbatos body pillow I gifted you! I knew you still love me! You tsundere simp, you~!”

Tituba met your waggling eyebrows with an unamused stare. “Get to the point, MC.”

Just the slightest, you dipped your head, narrowed your eyes, and put on the biggest smirk you could manage - your signature Robbie Rotten face you always wore as you plan to blackmail her.

———♦︎———♦︎———♦︎———

Yeah, the transactions weren’t as smooth as you thought it would be. Sure, maybe you tried to manipulate Tituba via sabotaging her date who she was talking to through the cinder app. Well, you didn’t try, you succeeded. And as a result, you were put under a supposedly ‘excruciating’ curse that even Solomon himself couldn’t break. ’Supposedly.’

“Heed my words, MC. If you are unable to find salvation by the seventh day, you will meet your demise, devoured by a great and powerful hellfire, subject to—“

“Yuh, I’ma dip, I have to binge my new anime I’ve been obsessed with - bungee street cats - peach out!”

———♦︎———♦︎———♦︎———

What type of curse, spell, whatever it was, was it though? You couldn’t help but ruminate over Tituba’s warning.

...

Nah, she’s just playing with me. She’d never! Right? Even if it was a curse, a prank if you will, what would it be? Were you cursed to break out? An irrational fear of yours you shared with her? Is is that you fear you’d be subject to an embarrassing sequence of events that’d take you out? Fuck, if it was something embarrassing, you’d simply pass away. You had enough with the second hand embarrassment you got from awkward anime characters. You weren’t about to live through your own embarrassment. That was just... too cruel.

Nothing strange or unusual has been happening so far. It was just the normal you, the pure, selfless maiden going on about her life with the seven demon brothers. Sure, it should’ve made you feel better but it only unnerved you even more. Fuck! What exactly was the curse? Maybe you shouldn’t have cut her off and dipped. You felt a thin layer of sweat slowly creep up and you brought a hand up to fan your face. Damn, was it hot in here or was it just your wet ass pussy?

♪ Yeah, yeah, yeah. Yeah, you fucking with some wet ass pussy. Bring a bucket and a mop for this wet ass pussy. Give me- ♪

You were snapped out of your thoughts when a firm grip made contact with your shoulders.

A strangled cry left your lips as you doubled over. Fiery ropes of erotism enveloped your body. It was as if every nerve, every vein in your body was coursing with raw pleasure. You felt a blush come over not just your cheeks but your entire body as you locked eyes with the classroom that you disrupted with your lewd… sound.

The professor coughed and proceeded to point to the diagram of a demon, angel, and human anatomy, explaining what the three species have in common and what they don’t.

Your bottom lip sought comfort in being chewed by your teeth. With your head hung and your hair slightly covering your face, you followed the hand on your shoulder to its owner.

My, just how mortifying could it get? It was fucking Simeon. His cheeks were dusted pink and his lips were caught in an ‘o’ and his eyes were filled with surprise, then worry.

“Simeon, I,” your eyes were downcast, refusing to meet his gaze, “I-I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s come over me.”

What the fawk. This is the worst day ever. Now the image of a little lamb you assumed Simeon had for you would be replaced by a horny, hormone monster.

Stupefied, Simeon sat still, staring at you.

Fuck! This is so awkward! I should probably explain that I didn’t mean to release a porn star moan just because he touched my shoulder! I mean, he’s an angel and this is just the worst fucking thing oh my gosh...

And with that, your dumb ass found yourself rambling to Simeon in great, excessive detail of your meeting with Tituba. Even going as far to expose your usernames and directly quoting yourself and that wretched witch.

“Oh my,” he lifted your chin with his fingers and you stiffened, resisting the urge to sing a song of the pleasure that coursed through you. He frowned and studied the way you reacted to his touch. He probably didn’t intend to almost send you into your first orgasm buuuut hot damn. Please, Simeon, stop being so breathtaking with your exposed shoulders.

Hold up. Shoulders? What the hell, just how far did you fall? You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain and you became the villain. You were literally a prime example of why dress code conduct in the human realm prohibited shoulders from being shown in school. Who would’ve thought?

“Not to worry, MC, counseling little lambs in their times of need is our job, after all.”

Fuck, why is he such a gentleman. You felt like putty from his touch alone and your thighs found itself squeezing together as a response to his touch.

“S-Simeon, please,” you grit your teeth and muster all of your willpower to not moan. Continuing with your impromptu explanation, you say, “it’s just, whenever I find myself bumping into anyone, it feels almost uncomfortably good. Like, pleasurable? I don’t know how to explain it but,” your chewed on your lip. “I don’t know how it came to that considering I’m literally as pure as anyone could get but I feel extremely overcome with lust for some reason.”

A husky timbre sang in your ear. “Oh? Is that so?”

Fuck. No no no! You hit back the urge to moan and doubled over in your seat, balling your hands into fists in an attempt to regain yourself.

Who-? Who fuck is this evil? You come back to your seated position and find yourself face to face with Solomon. His eyes were twinkling with pure mischief.

How in the world did you forget that Solomon sat right next to you? Directly to your left, no less. How much did he hear? Knowing him, he probably noticed your state of distress and took full advantage of it, listening in on everything you ranted to Simeon.

“Ah,” he stifled back his laughter, “so you weren’t kidding?”

You pressed your lips together in a tight line, bringing your hand up and preparing to smack a bitch until you realized you’d probably double over again from the skin to skin contact. “Ugh, you’re lucky I can’t strangle you.”

Well, you’re fucked.

“Aww, you shouldn’t be like that, MC!” Solomon brought a hand up to his chest and frowned. “After all, since a powerful witch like Tituba put you under a curse, you’d benefit from having The Greatest Sorcerer on your side.”

You groaned and slid down your chair, covering your face in equal parts shame and annoyance - only for Solomon, of course. Simeon, however, deserves the whole world.

“Little lamb, I think you should head over to the House of Lamentation early,” Simeon advised. You met his sympathetic gaze and felt a wave of relief wash over you. Truly, he was an angel.

“Can I really do that?”

“I’ll walk you over to the nurse’s office if you’re scared,” Solomon cooed. His lips brushed against the shell of your left ear and his fingers strummed along the small of your back.

“F-Fuck,” you whisper screamed and clutched your body, as if you were holding yourself down from the oncoming shockwaves his mere actions brought upon you.

———♦︎———♦︎———♦︎———

You found yourself in the common room, back at the House of Lamentation. You sat down on the rightmost part of a loveseat, welcoming the warmth of the fireplace and the sound of wood snapping and cracking against the fire. Fucking Solomon. That sneaky rat bastard. Who gave him the audacity to act like Hugh Hefner, when at best, motherfucker was Voldemort.

It was a wonder how you got here safely, really. Considering that you weren’t the best at keeping yourself composed when you were under pressure. Maybe you were born with it? Maybe it’s Maybelline.

Ding! Your DDD vibrated against your back pocket. Shame coursed through you as heat pooled in between your legs. Even from that? Really? To think you were acting more like a crusty, musty, virgin than Levi.

Who was it that texted you this time? Your face fell as you read the banner on your DDD.

Solomon.

Great, you wonder what he has planned for you this time. Taking a deep breath, you click on the notification.

———♦︎———♦︎———♦︎———

Solomon: This is so funny. Guess what kind of curse you’re under.

MC: ...MF. Get on with it!!!

Solomon: It’s a fucking curse of temptation, charged with eros.

MC: ...

Solomon: ...

MC: Say sike rn. Please. I’m begging you.

Solomon: Then beg.

MC: ...

Solomon: LMAO

MC: You can break it right?! It’s just a fucking horny curse. It doesn’t seem that complicated

Solomon: Stupid hoe. Did you not pay attention to Unit 1 of Incantations?

MC: TF?? Who do you take me for? That was like the first week I was abducted. Ofc I was tryna convince myself I was just high or something or like I was in a weird ass dream

Solomon: ...Well, the simpler and more direct a curse is, the harder it is to break. Obviously, complicated curses are more susceptible to flaws and mistakes. And it’s just your luck because the curse Tituba placed you under is lined with malicious intent.

Solomon: Didn’t you say she only spoke a single sentence when she cast her spell on you?

MC: Oh fuck.

Solomon: LOL! Literally. I could break it in a day or two if it was any other witch. But this is Tituba we’re talking about.

MC: Her breed? Different >:)

Solomon: ...

MC: Ok! I’m sorry. Please, go on oh great and powerful one.

Solomon: Hold on, I’ve only just figured out what type of curse you’re under. Give me a few hours and I’ll head over there and explain it to you once I’ve solved it.

MC: MAKE IT QUICK. IF THE BROTHERS FIND OUT, I’M GOING TO PASS AWAY FROM EMBARRASSMENT

Solomon: dO YOU WANT ME TO SOLVE IT OR NOT?

MC: I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please, take your time oh, Solomon the Wise. But come quick! Please

———♦︎———♦︎———♦︎———

“LOL! You’ll never guess what happens in chapter 22 of Being An Old Man, I Thought It Was Too Late For Me To Have Kids With My Wife Sarah But God Blessed Me A Son!”

“You wouldn’t dare! I haven’t reached that part yet! You wouldn’t use such dirty tactics to distract me.”

“Abraham has to sacrifice his-“

“NOOO!”

“Levi, MC, please,” Satan sighed and lowered his book, meeting your sheepish grin and Levi's scoff with an unamused stare.

The common room was full of life. Satan sat right across from you, engrossed in another one of his nerdy books and Asmo sat beside him, humming a tune as he painted his nails - for like, the third time this week. Mammon sat right next to him, fixed on his DDD. You could barely make out the layout of the akuzon app. Stupid mammon, he’s already on another online shopping spree despite having more frozen bank accounts that even Lucifer himself could count.

Speaking of Lucifer, you turn your gaze to him as he sat on the armchair, smack down in the middle of the two loveseats right across from each other. He just came back from another meeting with Diavolo and was sorting through his papers.

What in the name of Christopher Gray... how could one man look that stunning after being holed up in a meeting for five hours. Your dumb ass would step out of the meeting looking like you haven’t washed your hair in years.

Beel sat to the left of Levi. He chewed on a stick of bat jerky and was watching some video on his DDD - probably about working out or food - and Belphie laid by himself, curled up right in front of the fireplace with his head resting on his cow pillow, knocked out cold. Or well, knocked out warm.

It was almost strange how calm the ambiance was. You felt a spike of anxiety churn at your stomach. Why do you feel like something bad is going to happen?

“Hey, pay attention normie! I’m about to beat your high score in subway swimmers!” Levi stick his tongue out in concentration, deft fingers swiping away at obstacles and collecting grimm as he ran away from the kraken security guardian.

“Oh no! NOOO!” You clutch your DDD, just in time to watch your character collide with a bed of coral. Your face fell at the words displayed on the screen. ‘Save me!’

“No, I ran out of keys,” you groan and threw your DDD at Levi, crossing your arms.

“The only reason you’ve been able to keep up with me all this time is because of all the money you’ve spent on keys, MC!”

“Hey!” You scoff, “you’re making me feel like Mammon!”

“Oi! I don’t spend that much money!”

Without missing a beat, Satan quips back, “Only because Lucifer confiscated Goldie from you - again.”

Beel nodded his head. He took the last bite of his bat jerky and hummed in agreement.

Ding! Dong!

Lucifer raises an eyebrow, “Who’s at the door?”

Shit. You forgot how the brothers don’t exactly hold Solomon in the highest regards.

Nervously laughing, you answered him, “Ah, that would be Solomon.”

Feeling his scrutinizing gaze, you look up and lock eye contact with Lucifer. His eyes narrowed and you feel yourself growing hot under his gaze. Not that he was turning you on, no. You never liked this kind of attention on you. I mean, who’d openly like to get gawked at?

As if answering your question, Asmodeus gives you a playful smile. “Oh? Solomon? I didn’t know you two were close.”

“Uhh, well, it’s-“

“Oh! Solomon! I’ll get the door!” Levi snapped out of his trance and pressed pause on his game. Thank goodness Levi and Solomon bonded over TSL. You couldn’t imagine any other brothers welcoming him inside if it weren’t for his connection to Levi.

Belphie began to stir from the commotion. He brought himself up to a sitting position, rubbing his eyes. “What’s going on?” He yawned.

“MC.”

You turned your attention to Lucifer who looks more daddy than ever. His arms were crossed and his eyebrows were pressed together in disapproval. His frown was only the cherry on the top. “Would you care to explain why you invited Solomon over?”

Fuck. Please stop being such an alpha male for once. Images of his physique towering over yours flooded your mind. His hands would pin yours right above your head, rendering your arms useless, and his strong legs would encase you in a cage like hold. Then, him being Lucifer, would say something clever and sensual at the same time, and you'd melt under his gaze.

Wait. UGH! Snap out of it!

You opened your mouth to respond to him when Solomon beats you to it.

“I’ve figured out the exact curse MC has been afflicted with,” and with a smirk, “and how to relieve her of it.”

Shit. Oh shit. He really wants to watch the world burn, huh? You grimaced, bracing yourself for the onslaught of questions from the demon brothers.

Satan’s glare directed at Solomon disappears and is replaced with concern, “a curse?”

“No! It’s not fair! You’re supposed to be my Henry for all of eternity! You can't be cursed!”

“Hey MC! Just what kinda things have ya been up to? I’m s’posed to be protecting you, ya hear?”

“Poor MC! She looks so stressed! That's sooo not good for your skin!”

“Can’t she just sleep it off?”

“MC,” Beel frowned and you returned his concerned expression with a small smile.

Lucifer slammed his hands on the coffee table, it was like thunder just went off inside of the house. “Enough!” His brows were bunched together in a glare and his arms were crossed. “Solomon, would you care to explain the kind of curse MC is under and who the identity of the caster is?”

Your jaw fell slack and you gave Solomon your best ‘please no’ stare you could muster. Your hands were collected in front of you like a prayer.

Solomon only smiled and a chill ran up your spine. That’s not how a smile is supposed to look. No, a real smile would be if your eyes shrank, forming half crescent moons, with wrinkles in the corners. No way. Was he really…?

“If you don’t mind, Lucifer, I’d like to get MC’s approval before continuing.”

Confusion. Yeah, that’s the best way to describe how the brothers reacted. Complete and utter confusion.

———♦︎———♦︎———♦︎———

She signed defeatedly, “fine. Do your worst.”

Is that idiot really going to tempt me into unleashing as much chaos as I could possibly muster? Which is… a lot. I mean, I am known as The Great Sorcerer.

Though, she looks so tempting when she’s so defeated - so small and weak, pathetic, even - it only brings me more amusement. Now, I wonder what route I’m going to choose this time. Should I play as the devious sorcerer? The kindhearted and forgiving human friend of MC? Who am I kidding? Both! Yeah, that wasn’t even a question. I almost laughed out loud. Man, I really am a genius.

I cleared my throat, unwavering as I felt the collective gaze of the demon brothers fall upon my being. And a lustier one from emanating from Asmodeus. No surprise there.

Choose your words carefully, Solomon. You gotta be on her side.

“MC has been afflicted with a curse of temptation, charged with eros, by Tituba the witch. It’ll continue to affect her over the course of seven days, subjugating her to extreme heat that will boil her from the inside out lest she finds relief. She has until the clock strikes midnight on the seventh day.”

Perfect.

A furious blush cascaded over Mammon’s features. He was the first to break the silence. “O-Oi! You’re kidding right?”

“Wah!” Asmo crooned. He gave MC a half-lidded smile. “My my! Now isn’t this a wonderful turn of events~!”

Satan elbowed Asmo on his side. “That’s enough with the teasing, Asmo,” he lectured.

“Oh, don’t give me that, Satan, those bright red cheeks of yours aren't fooling anyone.”

“A-Asmo!”

“Whoa! This is just like the anime I’ve been watching! I Attempted To Manipulate A Great And Powerful Witch And Now I’ve Been Cursed And The Only Way I Can Break Out Of It Is For Me To Kiss The One I love!”

Beel gave Levi a frown, shaking his head at his antics despite the pink that dusted his features.

A glee of joy overcame me as I watched everything unfold. Lucifer looked as if his eyes were about to pop out of its sockets. He was torn between maintaining his stunned gaze onto me or onto MC, whose probably attempting to curl up into a ball at this point.

———♦︎———♦︎———♦︎———

Y’know what, I really am going to smack a bitch. And by that, I mean Solomon and how that sneaky bastard carefully chose his words to bring forth a reaction like… well, like this.

You were so engrossed by the chorus of reactions harmonizing with each other, and focused on morphing into a ball of shame, you almost forgot about Belphie. That was, until he placed his hand on your calf, coaxing you out of your ball. He gave you a kind and sympathetic gaze. His lips were set in a small frown, his eyebrows downcast.

It happened in only a few seconds. You were filled with equal parts horror and pleasure because he didn’t know that simple touches like this could affect you to such a degree. Couldn’t blame him though, he was the only brother that didn’t react in such an inappropriate way to your predicament. And he didn’t even seem amused by it at all.

You, however, well... His warm touch, placed on your calf only sent you into overdrive. “N-No! Don’t touch me!” The absolute lewdest, cry - followed by a moan - escaped your lips. Your body shivered and as if on cue, an overwhelmingly hot fire washed over you. A deep, unyielding fire. It fucking sent you, and the brothers.

“Ah,” Solomon laughed, “I may have forgot to mention that during this period, MC’s senses will be hightened tenfold. If not, possibly more. I figured that’s what the extreme heat stood for and this just proved me right.”

“F-Fuck,” you breathed. Shit, fucking get a grip, MC! You’re in the middle of the brothers and stinky Solomon who’s thriving off of your suffering. Scowling, you sent him a middle finger.

You caught yourself staring at Belphie. His eyes, which were filled with sympathy was now clouded over by something else. It darkened, and you saw his pupils blown wide, threatening to devour the bluish violet color that surrounded it.

“I’m sorry, Belphie, I should’ve told you before,” you murmur.

This was it though. This is the day you die. Cause of death? Embarrassment. Yeah, that’s right. Like a fucking sim dying because it peed in front of the other sims in the club, probably because you kept on cancelling their whim to use the restroom.

“I can help you find relief.”

Pause.

Your moth fell agape at Belphie’s suggestion. Did he really just suggest that? To you? Do you pretend to be Helen Keller? Do you become Jared, 19? There’s no way you could say yes, despite the temptations you’ve felt, longing for sexual touch. After all, your first kiss happened such a long time ago. And even then, you broke it off after a brief moment because you found yourself unwilling to make a fool of yourself. Ha! You, accepting Belphie’s proposal. What a long shot. You were definitely prepared to pass away before you could make an even bigger fool of yourself in front of the brothers and Solomon.

“B-Belphie! Hey! Get your hands off my human!”

Satan and Beel were at a loss for words. To your surprise, so was Lucifer. And Levi, you could only assume, is passed out next to you on the couch after hearing your cry of pleasure.

“Guys, uhh,” you scratched the back of your neck, “it’s okay. I’ll just accept my fate and boil over by the seventh day.”

Right! I saved them from the discomfort of being obliged to help me relieve myself. Plus, that was sorta awkward. I mean, if it happened to someone I didn’t harbor any feelings for, why should I have to help them get laid or something? This was only fair.

At your words, Lucifer was roused to take control of this discord. “Absolutely not. As the eldest and trusted advisor to Diavolo, it is my duty to-“

“Oh, come on Lucifer! Don’t give us that! Just admit you’d be more than willing to help our little MC out in her predicament,” teased Asmo.

You fidgeted in your seat. How were you going to explain to the brothers in a logical manner that you’d rather die than admit you’re an inexperienced virgin that could rival Levi himself?

Oh no. You were too late. Solomon caught on to your trepidation and released a dramatic gasp, “MC, don’t tell me,” he paused, for dramatic effect, “were you not kidding when you claimed to be pure? Are you actually a virgin?”

You smiled like the calm before the storm, the waves pulling back before the tsunami crashed. It was the way the earth stilled before the meteorite connected. “I’ll take that as my cue to pass away.”

You closed your eyes and pretended you were in a place, free from embarrassment. Ignoring the gasps and murmurs from Mammon and Satan (and Levi who woke up after passing out), the hums of approval from Asmo and Belphie, the way Solomon stifled back his laughter, and you couldn’t hear it but you were guessing Beel and Lucifer were completely speechless.

“MC, you can’t just close your eyes and pretend we aren’t here,” Satan coaxed, "we're not going to let you perish because of this curse."

You cock one eye open and nodded, ruminating over the different ways you could respond to his infuriatingly rational comment. “I can try,” you maintained your smile and sat cross legged on the couch, meditating into the astral realm. That's where your soul was, of course, after you died from the embarrassment.

“Oh honey,” cooed Asmo, “we only want what's best for you. Plus, I could practically taste the desire oozing out of you.”

“Asmo!”

———♦︎———♦︎———♦︎———

This was going to be a long night. Solomon bid farewell to the brothers after chatting with Lucifer, discussing the curse as in depth as he could without revealing the little snippet of information he decided to keep for himself. The rest of the brothers went back and forth with MC, trying to convince her to think over her choice and the severity of the curse but with a pride that could rival Lucifer’s, she rejected it with a shake of her head and kept her arms crossed. It took her a while before it dawned on her - the brothers would not yield until she gave them a satisfactory answer. Defeated, she told them that she would consider it.

It was getting late.

The brothers returned to their rooms and MC followed not long afterwards. The House of Lamentation was filled with a different tension tonight, one unlike any other.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #swd obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me fanfic #obey me fanfic x reader

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theusurpersdog · 5 years ago

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The Price of Peace

In my first two pieces on A Dance with Dragons, I discussed the political aspect and relationships within Dany’s arc; and those aspects are extremely important because the way Daenerys interacts with the world reveals pieces of her. But they are just reflections of the most important part of her story: the human heart in conflict with itself.

The way her 10 chapters are written is extremely intentional; they are meant to act as mirror images of each other; the choices Daenerys is forced to make in the first three chapters are the choices she is again forced to make in the last three chapters. The point of this is so we can see how she has changed over the course of the story; at the end of her arc, she makes the opposite choices than she did at the beginning – instead of chaining her dragons she flies off on Drogon, abandons her “floppy ears”, and instead of staying in Meereen decides to leave.

And beyond the chapters in this book, GRRM has designed Daenerys’ whole story to be circular; everything about her time in Meereen harkens back to her time with the Dothraki, and her final chapter on the Dothraki Sea is an almost exact recreation of her last chapter in A Game of Thrones. Just as the middle chapters of A Dance with Dragons function as the connecting thread between Daenerys’ change of heart, A Clash of Kings and A Storm of Swords connect the little girl from the first chapter of A Game of Thrones to the khaleesi embracing fire & blood at the end of A Dance with Dragons. And that’s why this book feels like the climax of Dany’s story; because everything she’s done has been building to Daenerys X.

Only One Thing Frightens Me Now

In previous books, especially A Storm of Swords, we see Daenerys begin embracing her connection to her dragons, using it to explain her fiery nature and short temper. But when she is presented with Hazzea’s bones, it forces Dany to reckon with the truth of that connection:

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

For a long time now, she has known what her dragons were capable of; in A Clash of Kings she feared they would burn her kingdom to the ground, and in A Storm of Swords she feared they would hurt Irri and Jhiqui after Drogon bit and burned them. But she chose to ignore the red flags because her dragons were her children. And worse, they were her path to power:

If I look back, I am doomed. Dany told herself . . . but how could she not look back? I should have seen it coming. Was I so blind, or did I close my eyes willfully, so I would not have to see the price of power?

When Eroeh was hurt in A Game of Thrones, Daenerys was able to tell herself that it wasn’t her fault, that all she had done was try to help her. But the blood of Hazzea’s death is on Dany’s hands and she can’t pretend otherwise. Daenerys had always had some amount of fear that she could be capable of the cruelty her father and brother displayed, but this is proof to her that she has already let herself become something she never wanted to be. So she locks her dragons away; refusing to allow anyone else to get hurt, or herself to be tempted by their power.

And for the first several chapters of A Dance with Dragons, Daenerys is heartbroken; for her dragons and for herself. Before, they had been like her children, but now she can only think of them with disgust:

Mother of dragons, Daenerys thought, Mother of monsters. What have I unleashed upon the world?

And beyond the shame she feels for placing her dragons ahead of her people, Daenerys is scared of what she might become:

“Only one thing frightens me now.”

“And what is it that you fear, sweet queen?”

“I am only a foolish young girl.” Dany rose on her toes and kissed his cheeks. “But not so foolish as to tell you that.”

These lines make it very clear that the only thing that frightens Dany is herself; but a pre-released chapter from before A Dance with Dragons was published made it even more clear:

She looks at Ser Barristan and tells him that she told Xaro that she feared only one thing, though she would not tell the merchant what. Ser Barristan guesses that she only fears her dragons. “Myself,” Dany tells him

This fear she has of herself is made even clearer in this passage:

She was the blood of the dragon, but Ser Barristan had warned her that in that blood there was a taint. Could I be going mad? They had called her father mad, once.

This is the first time Daenerys acknowledges that being “the blood of the dragon” could be negative, and enforces her belief that she should completely turn her back on her dragons.

Looking Back

I call so much attention to Daenerys’ chaining of her dragons and fear over her own impulses because it is so contradictory to the choices she will make in the last several chapters.

Like I said earlier, GRRM designed her chapters to be circular in nature to highlight Dany’s change of heart through the course of the book. But her change of heart does not happen suddenly; it happens slowly, as she begins to forget Hazzea and her father.

At first, she feels guilty even mentioning her dragons to Xaro Xhoan Daxos:

“My dragons have grown, my shoulders have not. They range far afield, hunting.” Hazzea, forgive me.

But by the time Quentyn arrives in Meereen, she is willing to flaunt her dragons for him:

“They are dragons, Quentyn.” Dany stood on her toes and kissed him lightly once on each cheek. “And so am I.”

A part of the reason she can never let her dragons go is that she really did see them as her children, and they protected her when no one else could:

Drogon saved me when they would have drained my life from me. Drogon burned them all.

When Drogon disappears, she genuinely misses him as if she has lost a child.

But even more than that, the dragons are a piece of her. In the same way that the Starks share a special bond with their direwolves, Daenerys has imprinted on her dragons; to deny them is to deny herself. That’s why she seeks out comfort in the form of Daario once she has caged them:

And who would ever dare to love a dragon?

She found herself thinking of Daario Naharis once again

Everything in Meereen is built on Dany’s rejection of her dragons; not because she wants or planned for it to be this way, but because she must give up on her dragons to protect her people. And that gets to the heart of Dany’s despair at everything in Meereen; because her and her dragons are so interconnected, she must reject herself to be Queen of Meereen. Dany understands this when she chains her dragons, and understands that she should reject the parts of herself that allowed Hazzea to die; she spends nearly the entirety of A Dance with Dragons trying to change who she is. That’s what she is doing when she chains her dragons, makes peace with Astapor and Yunkai, marries Hizdahr, and opens the fighting pits.

But change is easier said than done, and even though Daenerys constantly places everyone above herself, she can’t quite commit to leaving her dragons and true nature behind. As I explored in my last meta, Daario is Dany’s outlet for her “dragon” desires, and the more she commits to Meereen, the more she gives to Daario; until she has to marry Hizdahr, and has to end her affair with Daario. Not coincidentally, it is right after this that she decides to leave Meereen for good.

Dreams of Smoke and Fire

Throughout the series, even before they hatched, the dragons have been on a parallel journey with Daenerys. And while she spends most of A Dance with Dragons apart from them, Dany still shares much of her story with Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion.

The way Rhaegal and Viserion are chained at the start of the story is symbolic of how Daenerys must give up part of herself to be Queen of Meereen. And much like Daenerys holds on to Daario as refuge, not all of the dragons are caged:

Two score of her bravest had risked themselves trying to capture him. Almost all had suffered burns, and four of them had died. The last she had seen of Drogon had been at sunset on the night of the third attempt. The black dragon had been flying north across the Skahazadhan toward the tall grasses of the Dothraki sea. He had not returned.

Even while Daenerys and her dragons labor in Meereen, a part of them is returning to the Dothraki Sea.

And just as Daenerys begins to grow tired and frustrated with the city and seeks more and more comfort with Daario, her dragons slowly begin to work their way free:

Down in the pit, Viserion had snapped one of his chains; he and Rhaegal grew more savage every day.

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

In the days leading up to the events of Daznak’s Pit, Daenerys begins to have dreams similar to the ones she had on the Dothraki Sea:

She was still talking when Dany finally fell to sleep, to dream queer, half-formed dreams of smoke and fire.

Drogon arrives in Daznak’s Pit just as Daenerys decides she can’t handle to proceedings anymore, and rips off the tokar that represents the peace she has made in the city. And when the spearmen begin trying to kill him, it affects Daenerys just as much as the dragon:

Drogon raised his head, blood dripping from his teeth. The hero leapt onto his back and drown the iron spearpoint down at the base of the dragon’s long scaled neck.

Dany and Drogon screamed as one.

Even when Daenerys has flown off with Drogon and left Meereen, her other two dragons continue to parallel her journey; Rhaegal and Viserion break free of their chains just as Daenerys symbolically breaks free of hers.

And once her and Drogon are in the Dothraki Sea, Drogon’s refusal to leave “Dragonstone” for Meereen is a reflection of Daenerys’ own desire to leave the city.

All of these connections work to make one point very clear: Daenerys is her dragons. So much of her arc over the last two books comes down to Daenerys having to choose between her people or her dragons, but it’s a choice she cannot make because she will always return to the dragons. At the end of A Game of Thrones, standing in the burning funeral pyre as her dragons hatch, this is what she thought to herself:

I am Daenerys Stormborn, daughter of dragons, bride of dragons, mother of dragons

She made the choice to become those things when she sacrificed Mirri Maz Dur, and it’s a choice she is unable to turn her back on, no matter how hard she tries.

And GRRM has gone out of his way to make clear that this is a bad thing. The dragons cannot be tamed, chained, or overpowered. They are an unstoppable and unpredictable force, and everyone around them must cater to their whims or be burned along the way. Daenerys herself faces the consequences of dragons from thousands of years prior; the people in Meereen are starving because none of the ground is fertile, and none of the ground is fertile because Valyrian dragons scorched the earth. Hazzea’s death is the culmination of a pattern of escalation from Dany’s dragons; a tragic inevitability because Daenerys allowed them to be free.

I find it very interesting because, as I’ll elaborate below, the last two chapters of Dany’s Dance arc are focused on her undoing the decisions she makes in the first few chapters as she returns to the choices she made at the end of A Game of Thrones, that she also undoes a pivotal choice she made in A Storm of Swords. As I mentioned in the meta I wrote for that book, Daenerys went to Slaver’s Bay to buy an army, and “Breaker of Chains” humanitarian efforts came next; a side quest that became her main storyline. And it became her main storyline when she decides to lead the Unsullied as free men:

She raised the harpy's fingers in the air . . . and then she flung the scourge aside.

But when she decides to tame Drogon and ride away from Daznak’s Pit, she does the opposite:

She scrabbled in the sand, pushing against the pitmaster's corpse, and her fingers brushed against the handle of his whip. Touching it made her feel braver. The leather was warm, alive.

A Dragon or a Harpy

Daenerys’ time in Meereen is defined by her steadfast refusal to accept any part of their culture; she hates their food, she hates their customs and traditions, and it is a burden for her to even wear the tokar. This is a startling contrast to how willing she was to join Dothraki culture in A Game of Thrones, where she tells Jorah she is not a Queen but a Khaleesi. Her attitudes toward the Meereenese are much more in line with Viserys’ view of the Dothraki; the same way Viserys complained of their strange clothes, foreign tongue, and general “savagery”, even the way Viserys was appalled by the way they eat horse meat, is paralleled in how Daenerys discusses those aspects of Meereenese culture, except replace “horse meat” with “dog meat”. While Daenerys has some moral objections to Meereen, she hates most of their things because she is angry she has to be there, stuck a world away from the Seven Kingdoms, just as Viserys hated the Dothraki because they wouldn’t sail across the Narrow Sea for him.

Daenerys connection to Viserys grows as she is forced into the same position he was; watching helplessly as the Iron Throne slips slowly out of her grasp. Much more than any prior book, Daenerys constantly hears his advice in her mind:

"I am the blood of the dragon," Dany reminded him. "Have you ever seen a dragon with the flux?" Viserys had oft claimed that Targaryens were untroubled by the pestilences that afflicted common men, and so far as she could tell, it was true.

Viserys would have his head off for that insolence.

“If my brother Viserys had known that he had a Dornish princess waiting for him, he would have crossed to Sunspear as soon as he was old enough to wed."

I did wait. For my crown, for my throne, for you. All those years, and all I ever got was a pot of molten gold. Why did they give the dragon's eggs to you? They should have been mine. If I'd had a dragon, I would have taught the world the meaning of our words. Viserys began to laugh, until his jaw fell away from his face, smoking, and blood and molten gold ran from his mouth.

These parallels aren’t meant to suggest that Daenerys is becoming Viserys as much as they are to show the fulfillment of Dany’s own fears; through Clash and Storm, she has worried that if she had to beg and wait as Viserys did, she could become him. And in A Dance with Dragons, she has to beg for every small amount of peace the Sons of the Harpy will allow her, and abandon Astapor and Yunkai back to slavery, as well as marry herself away to Hizdahr zo Loraq; all so one day Meereen might be peaceful enough for her to sail to Westeros. This waiting and begging chips at her sanity the same way it did Viserys.

Complicating Dany’s moral distaste for Meereen is the way she unintentionally perpetuates some of the worst aspects of the culture. As I broke down in a previous meta, Dany tortures prisoners en masse and allows the Shavepate to torture innocent children in front of their fathers. She also forces people into hard labor:

Xaro gave a languid shrug. “As it happens, when I came ashore in your sweet city, I chanced to see upon the riverbank a man who had once been a guest in my manse, a merchant who dealt in rare spices and choice wines. He was naked from the waist up, red and peeling, and seemed to be digging a hole.”

“Not a hole. A ditch, to bring water from the river to the fields. We mean to plant beans. The beanfields must have water.”

“How kind of my old friend to help with the digging. And how very unlike him. Is it possible he was given no choice in the matter? No, surely not. You have no slaves in Meereen.”

Dany flushed. “Your friend is being paid with food and shelter. I cannot give him back his wealth. Meereen needs beans more than it needs rare spices, and beans require water.”

Daenerys never says the man is a criminal, and only mentions that he lost his wealth when the spice trade collapsed. To me, this strongly suggests the man is not a criminal being punished for his crimes, but a newly poor man being exploited due to his lack of options. And previously in A Storm of Swords, Daenerys had already decided to collect taxes from the temporary slave trade.

Yet Daenerys does not seem to notice the voluntary choices she makes to compromise her morality, instead focusing on the choices the Sons of the Harpy and Hizdahr force on her. But the symbolism of Drogon makes it clear:

Drogon hunted far afield, but when he was sated he liked to bask in the sun at the apex of the Great Pyramid, where once the harpy of Meereen had stood.

And Daenerys even living in the Great Pyramid begins to disconnect her from the people she is supposed to represent; in A Storm of Swords, she thinks to herself how different it is for those in the pyramids:

The stars were coming out above, and the silk lanterns below, just as Kraznys’s translator had promised. The brick pyramids were all glimmer with light. But it is dark below, in the streets and plazas and fighting pits. And it is darkest of all in the barracks, where some little boy is feeding scraps to the puppy they gave him when they took away his manhood.

Daenerys’ men are slaughtered in the streets as she stays atop her pyramid with Daario, too impatient to hear the complaints of her people:

"As my queen commands. Will you hold court today?"

"No.”

Mother to Us All

Daenerys is torn between being a mother to her people or to her dragons; and while she grows more tired of her role as Queen and pulls closer to Daario, she is also starting to hate the Meereenese smallfolk she stayed to protect.

The reason Daenerys was able to temporarily overcome her love for her dragons and chain them is because of how much she also loves her people; from the moment they declared her Mhysa, it fundamentally changed the way she perceived the world. Because of Mirri Maz Duur, Dany believes she will never be able to have kids; and in the immediate aftermath of that revelation, she treated her dragons like they were her only chance to be a mother. But thousands of smallfolk chose her to be their mother, which offers Daenerys the choice to be something more. Being the mother of dragons is what she wants, but being mhysa is the right thing to do. At the end of A Storm of Swords, Daenerys didn’t realize it was a choice she had to make, and tried to be both; but once Hazzea dies and she is forced to choose, she makes the right decision by placing her people first. But, slowly throughout A Dance with Dragons, she comes to regret that choice for two reasons: she feels as if she can’t help the people, and then realizes she doesn’t want to.

As I discussed before, Daenerys has to make a series of compromises with the Sons of the Harpy and the Masters of Astapor and Yunkai to keep the peace; one of these compromises is locking Meereen’s gates and leaving the Astapori refugees to die:

They were her children, but she could not help them now.

Dany has to make so many decisions that harm huge amounts of smallfolk to keep what little peace she has made in Meereen, and starts to feel as if nothing matters. If Astapor and Yunkai have returned to slavery anyway, why should she make herself miserable in Meereen when she could take her dragons and fly to Westeros?

Even more than a feeling of hopelessness, though, it is Dany’s dislike of the Meereenese that makes her regret choosing them over her dragons:

Ten thousand throats roared out their thanks; then twenty thousand; then all. They did not call her name, which few of them could pronounce. “Mother!” they cried instead; in the old dead tongue of Ghis, the word was Mhysa! They stamped their feet and slapped their bellies and shouted, “Mhysa, Mhysa, Mhysa,” until the whole pit seemed to tremble. Dany let the sound wash over her. I am not your mother, she might have shouted, back, I am the mother of your slaves, of every boy who ever died upon these sands whilst you gorged on honeyed locusts.

As Queen, Daenerys feels like she is forced to only represent the Nobles of Meereen instead of the slaves she stayed behind to protect. Being made to attend the fighting pits and watch as smallfolk fight and die for the pleasure of the Masters is the final insult to Daenerys.

But even though Dany tells herself she is the mother of their slaves, in truth it is clear she doesn’t like them either:

Daenerys was sick unto death of Zhak and Merreq; she was sick of all the Mereenese, great and small alike.

She has become so disconnected with “her people” that it’s a joke to her when Daario calls her out on it:

“On the morrow I will be a woman wed, and Hizdahr will be king. Let him hold court. These are his people."

"Some are his, some are yours. The ones you freed."

"Are you chiding me?"

"The ones you call your children. They want their mother."

"You are. You are chiding me."

The idea of the slaves appeals to Daenerys much more than the reality. The complete love and adoration she felt when she rode through the screaming crowd at the end of A Storm of Swords is what she wanted from the Meereenese when she chose to stay behind, but in reality they aren’t always like that; they are poor people who just want better lives, and get angry with Daenerys when she gets in the way of that, such as when they line up to be repaid for their animals that Drogon killed. The only slaves that never lose hope in Dany as a savior are the ones who live in Astapor, desperately clinging to the hope that someone could come save them:

“Every day we told each other that the dragon queen was coming back.” The woman had thin lips and dull dead eyes, set in a pinched and narrow face. “Cleon had sent for you, it was said, and you were coming.”

And those are the people she must shut outside the gates, again making her feel like everything she does is meaningless. By the time she has married Hizdahr and is opening the fighting pits to negotiate peace with Yunkai, Daenerys can’t even remember why she stayed in Meereen:

“I suppose I must be thankful for small victories,” the queen said.

“One step, then the next, and soon we shall be running. Together we shall make a new Meereen.” The street ahead had finally cleared. “Shall we continue on?”

What could she do but nod? One step, then the next, but where is it I’m going?

I think this divide within Daenerys, of wanting to be a mother to her people while slowly growing to despise them, is fascinating to view through the lens of her relationship to Missandei:

"I would sooner stay with you. On Naath I'd be afraid. What if the slavers came again? I feel safe when I'm with you."

Safe. The word made Dany’s eyes fill up with tears. “I want to keep you safe.” Missandei was only a child. With her, she felt as if she could be a child too. “No one ever kept me safe when I was little. Well, Ser Willem did, but then he died, and Viserys . . . I want to protect you but . . . it is so hard. To be strong. I don’t always know what I should do. I must know, though. I am all they have. I am the queen . . . the . . . the. . .”

“. . . mother,” whispered Missandei.

“Mother to dragons.” Dany shivered.

“No. Mother to us all.” Missandei hugged her tighter.

Missandei is exactly what Daenerys wanted when she chose to stay in Meereen; a former slave who loves and adores her, and because she is Dany’s own scribe she gets to feel safe and cared for (unlike the unprotected slaves living in the city). Beyond that, Missandei allows Daenerys to vicariously fix her own childhood; so much of Dany’s hatred of slavery comes from her own experience being sold by Viserys to Khal Drogo, and Daenerys sees herself in Missandei. As Daenerys says in the above quote, once Ser Willem died, she had no one to ever protect or even care for her, and she wants to be the mother she never had to anyone who feels scared or afraid.

I think it’s so easy to forget because Daenerys was married and gave birth in the first book, and then goes on to lead an army and be Queen of a city, but she is still a child herself. During A Dance with Dragons, she’s roughly 15 or 16 years old - just a teenager - and yet she’s putting tremendous pressure on herself to be a mother to thousands of former slaves, while at the same time trying to build herself the childhood she never had. It’s no coincidence that she begins thinking of the house with the red door more often:

She had been dreaming of a house with a red door when Missandei woke her.

Dany had never known a home. In Braavos, there had been a house with a red door, but that was all.

This was done in Braavos, while we were living in the house with the red door. Why did that make her feel so strange?

She would rather have drifted in the fragrant pool all day, eating iced fruit off silver trays and dreaming of a house with a red door

Not since those half-remembered days in Braavos when she lived in the house with the red door had she been as happy.

I’m most interested by this dream she has, though:

"Is it Daario? What's happened?" In her dream they had been man and wife, simple folk who lived a simple life in a tall stone house with a red door.

This is the first time Daenerys has imagined a future with a red door; she has always wanted to return to the house in Braavos, but she’s never had dreams of what a future there could look like until this dream. And she pictures Daario as her husband living a simple life, even though she knows that is impossible:

I would give up my crown if he asked it of me, Dany thought. . . but he had not asked it, and never would. Daario might whisper words of love when the two of them were as one, but she knew it was the dragon queen he loved. If I gave up my crown, he would not want me.

This emphasizes that Dany will never be happy. She longs for and dreams of the house with a red door because it is an impossible reality - the one time in her life where she lived as a princess free of fear and responsibility. It’s the perfect childhood she almost had and then lost, and for the rest of her life she’s going to try and get it back. But the truth is it is lost forever; Daenerys is not the same young girl who wants peace and simplicity and nothing else, and the world will not allow her to be a carefree princess anymore. And if the red door is Dany’s ideal of lost childhood and innocence, Daario is the personification of her new dream of fire and blood and freedom from her moral misgivings. She dreams of both Daario and the red door together because they are the two things she wants most in the world; but they cannot possibly exist together. She can’t be a dragon queen who lives a simple life. At some point, she has to choose which future she wants, because she can have one but not the other.

I’ve decided to split this piece into two separate parts. As I said in my first post about A Dance with Dragons, I originally intended on three metas; the first two, about Dany’s political arc and relationships, I’ve already put out. But in writing about her personal journey, I realized it has two halves, and to do both justice I think they need separate posts. This piece is to cover the first half of her arc, up through the first nine chapters, and should highlight the huge choices she made in the first three chapters to give up on her dragons and Westeros to save her people, and then the next six chapters which test her resolve and make her regret those original choices. My next, and last, piece on Daenerys in A Dance with Dragons will solely focus on Daenerys X, when she decides to turn her back on Meereen and embrace her family and her dragons.

#daenerys targaryen #anti daenerys #game of thrones #asoiaf #asoiaf meta #A Dance with Dragons

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kylo-im-ren · 5 years ago

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The Rise of the Fallen One & Reylo (excerpt)

Rey is not alone in the Dark!Rey scene.

This was first pointed out to me through this tweet from brehaorganas. Then @sillyrabbit36 did a lovely job of recoloring the footage to show it in greater detail in this post.

I went ahead and made some GIFs for visual aid.

In this shot (BOW DOWN TO YOUR QUEEN) it looks like there could be movement, or a figure before the screen pans over to Dark!Rey. That could also very well just be the way that the light and shadows move in the view of the camera. The real evidence is in the following shot. The money shot.

(My ability to breathe? I don’t know her.)

I zoomed in for a better look, and I tried my best to brighten it without ruining the quality too much (fuzzy image below= proof I’m not a professional lol).

I’ve labled what I think it is that we are seeing. To me, in the bottom right it looks like dark/black clothing, maybe a cloak, or cape. Or maybe just dark pants. In the top right it looks like either a hand in dark, long sleeves, or a chin in a high turtleneck. I’m leaning more towards it being a hand.

Now, let’s look at the movement of this mystery figure. It appears that whomever (or whatever) is there is backing away from Rey. And if we go with the hand theory, it looks like they are backing away with their hands up defensively. Below I’ve created an extremeley detailed and intricate artist rendition of what I believe happens here. I warn you, the artistic talent I posess has brought some to tears.

(As I was writing the final draft of this bit i came across this post by the amazing, ever talented @gwendy85 . The position of Ben and Rey in her art is so close to what I’m picturing! And a million times better than my stick people lol. Just wanted to give some quick promo to her. If you haven’t already, you guys should really check out her art and meta posts, you won’t be disappointed😊💜.)

So, who is this? Well, there are a few options. Let’s play one of my favorite games: The Process of Elimination.

Option 1: Palpatine Just the simple fact that the figure seems to be backing away from her tells me that it isn’t the Sheev man. If Rey does go dark, and this is real, and not a vision, I’m 99.9% sure that Palps will have something to do with it. So why would he be backing away from her? If anything, he’d be the one encouraging her.

Option 2: Finn (my sweet boy) This is a more logical option, however, John is reported saying that he wasn’t there when Daisy wore her Dark!Rey fit. He said he was supposed to be there, but that was just for a visit, meaning his character was not invoved in the shooting of those scenes (I looked for the link for like 20 minutes and decided I’d rather get this out and edit the post later when I eventually find it.) Plus, the hand (or chin) doesn’t look like it’s been blessed with that melanin (teehee), so I’m thinking it’s pretty safe to assume not Finn. And without Finn being there, I don’t think any other resistance squad memeber would make sense. So I’m striking out Poe, Rose, or Jannah as options.

Option 3: Rey Let me explain.This would fall in line with the theory that Dark!Rey is a vision that Rey has. (I go into further details about how this could go, and the pontential parallel between it and Lukes vision quest on Dagobah in the full meta.) This could be the moment where she is forced to literally face her inner demons. If this were the case though, the costume choice that makes the most sense, canonically and visually, would be for normal Rey to be in her normal clothes. Her pure white, flowing robes are a stark contrast to the dark figure we see backing away.

“Maybe that’s just the shadows, it’s a dark room.”

That’s true. But if we go with the turtleneck or long sleeve idea, those are complete opposites to Rey’s v-neck and short sleeves. This makes me think that the mystery person is not Rey.

Option 4: An innocent It could be an innocent that she kills in her dark rage/possesion. Making this a scene to show how far gone she is. I highly HIGHLY doubt this option though.

Taking all of those out leaves me to believe that it can only be one person. One particular dark froce weilding, sad-boi, love-struck prince.

Option 5: Ben The clothes, if i’m picturing them correctly, match up perfectly with Ben’s attire at all times. Dark cloak/cape, maybe a black turtleneck (like we’ve seen in TFA), long dark sleeves. And, if this is Benny boy, what really intrigues me is that he is gloveless. The implications of that alone...

Sorry, I spaced out. I was fangirling.

ANnNywAy, let’s assume it is him. Now the question is:

Vision or Reality?

(I dive deeper into all of these theories in the full meta. I still can’t choose a side!)

While I still haven’t chosen a side (lol) at this point in time, I think I’ve narrowed my choices down to the Dark!Rey is real train or the Ben Vision Train.

If Dark!Rey is real, I feel that this could definitely be the moment where Ben goes to save her from Palpatine, and from herself. There have been several posts describing how this event could unfold. If Dark!Rey is real, this could serve as a major catalyst for Bendemption. This tweet points out an amazing comparrison to this moment of Vader having a vision of Dark!Padme.

The most terrifying thing is seeing someone you love fall down the same dark path that you did, and having to watch them be consumed by it.

I think this feeling and reaction would be representitive of both real and vision Ben. If it’s real though, it could lead to a fight. The fight, however, would be completely onesided. He would refuse to strike her, talking to her the whole time, reasuring her of the people in her life that care for her, and that he cares for her. Telling her that she’s not alone anymore. She doesn’t have to do this, He knows this isn’t her. Pleading with her to come back to the light. To herself. To him. He’d say he knows that there is still good in her, and that he believes in her. He tells her to use their bond to escape Palpatine’s control, or the firm hold of the Dark.

All of this sounding familiar?

(I was so happy to see my fellow TFA Reylos were thinking the exact same thing I was with this.I love y’all. We all deserve a stiff drink and a foot rub 😭😂)

Now, if it’s a vision, I feel that the scene will be much shorter. I also believe that, again, if it is just a vision, It will be a reflection of what is already happening inside of Rey. She could actually go dark for awhile after this, just maybe not to the extent that we see in this scene. I don’t think that it is the same vision he saw in TLJ (although I definitely think that he saw something like this), I think this would be a new vision.

Something that caught my eye about the initial cut to Rey was the motion of the camera.

The way that it swoops over to focus on her resembles someone whipping their head around in surprise.

You know what that reminds me of?

Rey even stumbles back after this.

If vision is the way, I have a feeling it will be like the one Rey had in Maz’s castle in TFA when she touched the legacy saber. I actually think that this would be such a cool call back, and would be another amazing example of how these two characters mirror eachother. This vision could be brought on when he touches an object as well, or it could be in the form of a dream. Or it could be a vision brought on by Palpatine to tempt Ben. Or to scare him. Or-

Summary, there are so many ways that this can go. We have truly entered my favorite time over these past 4 years, The Hour of Speculation. And it’s the final hour! Everything wraps up after this...

As much as that breaks my heart, I am so excited for the next few months. I can’t wait to ride this out with all of you, and to hear what amazing theories you freakin oracles come up with during the wait. Old and new Reylos, I LOVE YOU!

And may the force be with you always.💙❤️💜

And please share your own thoughts, I’d love to hear what you guys think!

@sushigirlali @jedisassafras @southsidestory @sanctuarytrin It’s not my full thoughts (not even close🤦🏽‍♀️😂), or a ficlet, but I promise all of those are coming soon! Hope you like my quick ramble, much love💙☺️

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christinelly · 5 years ago

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Content warning: Anorexia

I just watched Phantom of the Opera yesterday (the one that's streaming on YouTube right now) and I am so so so conflicted about Christine's relationship between Raoul and Phantom. Tbh what struck me most starkingly from the whole musical was that I saw Christine/Phantom's relationship just like the one I had with my eating disorder, anorexia. I'm just gonna be upfront: I do not support Christine/Phantom's relationship. I see it as toxic and abusive and just how it parallels to my experience with AN adds on to my contempt. But at the same time, I also sympathise with Phantom. It's all very complicated, and I'll try my best to explain it. Also, I sort of like forgot the lines, so pardon me if I messed it up.

The warning bells rang off in my head the moment Christine said "No, Raoul. The Angel of Music is very strict." Immediately I thought of my eating disorder, how it was uncompensating and cruel. It was awful. I lived four months of my life a zombie. I obeyed every single word of it and never dared to break its rules. Phantom was only an "angel" because he was a musical genius and he nurtured Christine's talent for singing, but what else did he do? He was downright possessive of her ("Insolent boy... sharing in my triumph"), and he made it clear that she could and would ONLY sing for HIM. He was even abusive, tried to "win her love by making her [his] prisoner" and even threatened to kill Raoul if Christine didn't marry him. He even told Christine to "give up the light", or something like that. I saw him as was anything but an "Angel", and was very critical whenever he and Christine sang about him as such. (So kudos to him when he said he was a devil from hell at the end). It was like how anorexia was my "saving grace" - all its behaviours made me feel in control and safe, but in reality I was killing myself, and I was acutely aware something was wrong. When Christine saw the truth she became terrified of him. Did you see how she ran out of the theatre and went almost hysterical when Raoul dismissed her fear? She was so petrified that Phantom just downright murdered somebody, and I think at that point she realised that this "Angel" of hers isn't so innocent and nobel as she thought he was. "He'll take me, I know," she weeps. "What I once used to dream, I now dread."

Yet despite this, Christine just can't but be attracted to Phantom. Not romantically, but when Phantom sings to her, she's lured in again, and I believe it's because at that moment she remembers what Phantom did for her (teaching Christine to sing) and was willing to forget all the horrors he's done. I think it's because at that time, Christine once again saw the Phantom as an "Angel" again - without the devil horns she discovered. It's so much like my recovery from anorexia. There were so many days when I was just sick of eating again and anorexia was so tempting and alluring with its restrictions. Whenever I looked into the mirror I would become so upset and angry at my body's changes that I wanted to run back to anorexia. If not for my Raoul - in this case, my mentor and my determination to truly live life - who woke me up from anorexia's deadly song, I would be a goner. Therefore, as someone who knows better now, I was just super annoyed at how Christine always seemed weak and would succumb to Phantom (when she sang "Angel my soul was weak, forgive me", Gosh, it hurt my heart because it reminded me how I was just a puppet to my ED), but I've been there before. It's not so easy to reject the devil when previously it was your angel and you believed it to be. That's why I won't accept the Christine/Phantom relationship. It wasn't right, and I just feel like Christine deserved better. Yes, it will finally give our Phantom something he needs (love and acceptance), but it doesn't justify all the wrong-doings he's done.

Now, as much as I don't like the Phantom, I also sympathise with him. It hurt me, too, to hear how the world shunned him and rejected him because he was born ugly - nobody deserves that. Phantom would be my eating disorder. After all, my ED manifested from my lack of confidence, poor self esteem, and my self-hatred. Phantom just wanted someone to love him, someone to be with him, just like how I wished someone would assure me of my worth, would hug me and protect me, before I decided that my weight was the best way to determine that. The Phantom loved Christine, because I I think she seemed like hope to him, but again his love doesn't justify all the wrong-doings he's done. Love isn't omnipotent. Abuse is abuse. But god, I do wish to hug Phantom. He deserves better, too.

TL;DR: I do not condone the Phantom/Christine relationship because it seems abusive and toxic to me. It was an eerie parallel to my experience with anorexia.

#Phantom of the Opera #PotO #christine daae #phantom #anti christine/phantom

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misscrazyfangirl321 · 6 years ago

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Together We’ll Weather The Storm

Fandom: Timeless

Pairing: Garcy

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship

Rating: G

Summary: A sleepless night gives Lucy some new insight into the man who's been holding her together for the past few months, and she gets to return the favor.

A/N: For the anon who requested Lucy helping Flynn with a fear or panic attack, to parallel the many lovely “Flynn helping Lucy with her claustrophobia” fics.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

She tries to sleep, makes every effort to close her eyes and lie as still as possible, hoping to drift off, but it’s pointless. Every time she can feel the first edges of sleep starting to creep into her mind, a crash of thunder jolts her awake again.

It must be close, she muses. The lightning and thunder are almost on top of each other.

Good thing they're in an underground bunker.

Finally, she gives in, throwing the blanket off of her and rolling off the couch. If she's going to be awake anyway, she might as well see if Flynn's up. He usually is, whenever she goes to look for him. Sometimes, she worries that he doesn't sleep enough, but it never seems to affect him in the field.

She comes to his room, half-debates knocking, just in case he's changing, and decides to go on in. On the off-chance he is asleep, she doesn't want to wake him. Decision firmly made, she steps into the room, and stops short.

Empty.

The bed is made, the empty bottle of vodka still sits on his desk, and a book is open on his nightstand, but there's no sign of the man himself.

For one tiny, irrational second, she's terrified that he's gone, that he broke out of the bunker and left them all behind. All she can think is, "Not again."

Then, reason catches up with her. If he'd broken out, alarms would be blaring. Besides, he wouldn't get far in his fight against Rittenhouse without a time machine, and she definitely would have noticed him walking past her to get the Lifeboat.

(She trusts him, of course, but she can't bring herself to list that as a reason. After all, she had trusted Wyatt, right up until she had realized that he had broken out. Maybe it's herself she doesn't trust.)

Forcing a shaky laugh, she shakes her head. For all she knows, he just went to the restroom, and she's freaking out over nothing.

She considers lingering, waiting for him to come back, but her stomach protests the idea. Food, then. She'll go to the kitchen, put together a meal, (probably warm up leftovers, if she's honest,) and come back after.

With that thought firmly in mind, she steps out of his room, and makes her way down the hallway. She makes it exactly three steps before the bathroom door opens, and a voice stops her.

"Lucy?" He sounds dead on his feet, and when she turns back to him, he looks it. Dark circles underneath his eyes, hair sticking up in all directions, (very, very briefly, she considers running her hand through it, smoothing the errant locks, but it would be too much, he'd look at her with wide, tender eyes, and she'd do something very stupid,) and shoulders sagging, as if the very effort of standing is too much. "Is everything alright?"

Instinctively, she knows that she can tell him no, that she wanted to talk, and he'll stay up until all hours of the night, talking about anything and nothing. She also knows that tonight, he shouldn't.

"It's fine." She smiles reassuringly. "I was just checking on you." The look in his eyes is too much, far too soft and pained, and she clears her throat. "I thought I heard something."

Technically true; she heard thunder, after all.

He nods, slowly, and she's about to walk away when another clap of thunder hits. It sounds like it's almost on top of them, and she looks at him, a quip about needing earplugs dying on her tongue. He's... Frozen, for lack of a better word. His eyes are squeezed shut, tension radiating from every surface of his body, and he doesn't seem to be breathing.

"Are you..." She tries to keep her voice soft and neutral, but a hint of disbelief creeps in. Garcia Flynn, scared? "Okay?"

He nods again, sharply this time, and opens his eyes. The smile he gives her is painfully forced, and she can't even bring herself to match it. "Flynn..."

"It's fine, really, I'm just-" Another clap of thunder, and he flinches, eyes falling shut once more.

He doesn't try to finish the reassurance; it's painfully obvious that whatever he was going to say would have been a lie, anyway. Instead, he stands, eyes closed, as if willing her to go away. It's clear that he doesn't want her to see him like this, and a part of her is tempted to walk away, to give him the space he so obviously wants, but something stops her.

After everything he's done for her, how can she leave him alone to deal with this?

Instead, she steps forward, acting mostly on instinct. Wraps her arms around his waist. He stiffens, but when she doesn't let go, he exhales, returning the embrace. One hand settles on the small of her back, the other rests between her shoulder blades, and he traces circles on her back with his thumbs.

At the next clap of thunder, he pulls her closer to him, briefly bowing his head over hers. His breath is warm against her, and she leans into him even more.

It occurs to her that anyone could see them, and while she can't bring herself to care, the last thing she wants is for Wyatt and Flynn to go at it again, especially when the latter seems to be on the verge of having a panic attack. She pulls away, but takes his hand.

"Follow me."

He does, of course. He always does.

His room has huge windows, and while the thunder seems to be bothering him more than the lightning, she doesn't want to take him back in there. The living room and kitchen are public areas, with nowhere to hide if someone wandered in. That leaves just one option.

She leads him across the hallway, to the mostly unused storage closet. He pauses in the doorway, giving her a questioning glance, but before he can find his words, there's another boom of thunder. His grip tightens on her hand, almost painfully for a moment, and he nods, following her into the small room.

Once, this would have been terrible for her claustrophobia, but now? She's been shoved into a hidden trunk with another person. This may be small, but at least she has room to move.

There isn't much in the way of furniture, so she settles on the floor, tugging him after her. She rests her head on his chest, over his heart, and waits. Slowly, uncertainly, he brings his arms around her, and she snuggles closer.

The thunder is muffled in here, she realizes, but it does little to help the way he winces, the way he holds onto her so tightly, she half expects to melt into him.

"When I was in college, I wanted to drop out of school," she murmurs, both to give him something else to focus on, and because she wants him to understand. Belatedly, she realizes that he may already know this story from the journal, but if he does, he doesn't say it. Instead, he clears his throat, and manages a reply.

"And what were you planning to do?"

She smiles against him. "Join a band."

He chuckles, and for the first time, he seems to truly relax. "You like to sing?"

Unpleasant memories flicker through her mind, of Hollywood, and Hedy Lamar, and looking Wyatt dead in the eyes, singing, leaping without a doubt in her mind that he would catch her.

"Sometimes," she responds, quieter than she means to.

Of course, he notices her change in tone, and nudges her playfully. "So. Dropping out of school to join a band. Clearly, that didn't quite go as planned."

In spite of herself, she smiles. "Nope. I was on my way to tell my mother, didn't notice the oil slick on the road..."

As if on cue, the thunder booms once more, and it's hard to say which makes him flinch. Possibly both. She rests a hand on his chest, silently reminding him that she's there, that they're both okay.

"I went into the river. I was... Trapped in the car. Couldn't get out, couldn't-" Against her will, some of the traces of panic that always come with the memory start to slip in, and she holds him a little tighter. "I thought I was going to die."

"But you didn't."

Whether he's reminding her or himself, it isn't clear.

"No. Someone saved me. I never saw who it was, but I figured... If this was my second chance, I probably shouldn't waste it."

She considers for a moment what her life might have been like, if she had finished that drive. Would she be a world-famous singer now, or would she have given up that dream long ago? Would her mother have pushed her to stick with her studies, to continue the family legacy? Would she have listened?

"But ever since then," she finishes softly, finally reaching her point, "I've been absolutely terrified of being trapped in small spaces."

He makes a soft noise of understanding, understanding of what she's saying: She won't judge him for his fears.

Outside, the storm crashes on, but he keeps his focus on her, barely flinching at the next clap of thunder.

"It was storming the night my family was murdered." She wasn't expecting him to share in return, but she certainly isn't going to make him stop. Instead, she tilts her head up to look at him. He's staring straight ahead, eyes suspiciously wet. "And at first, when I heard the shots, I thought... I thought it was just thunder." He chuckles bitterly. "When I went to check... Well. It wasn't."

She'd do anything to take away the pain in his eyes. In that moment, she knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that she would tear time and space apart to give him back his family, even if it meant he would leave her in the end. But all she can do is hold onto him, offering him silent reassurance that he isn't alone.

"Now, whenever there's a storm, I..." He shakes his head, trailing off, but she can imagine what he's saying. Being forced to relive something like that must be terrible, especially alone.

With that thought in mind, she makes a decision. "Next time, come get me."

He hesitates, finally meeting her eyes, and the uncertainty there breaks her heart. He doesn't want to bother her, to inconvenience her, to be anything but a rock for her to lean on. Doesn't he understand that she wants to be the same for him?

No, maybe he doesn't.

She sits up, cups his cheek, and repeats. "Come get me." When he still doesn't agree, she decides to switch tactics. "Unless... This doesn't help?"

The change is instant. He softens, giving her an almost incredulous smile.

(And oh, there's that tenderness she was afraid of earlier. Now, though, it's a comfort, and she feels herself leaning in, just slightly. Catches herself-now definitely isn't the time-but his eyes track the movement, and she knows they'll have to have this conversation soon.

Soon, but not yet.)

"Lucy..." His accent is thicker than usual, either from emotion, exhaustion, or both. "I don't want to... You need sleep, and-"

"You aren't alone," she says firmly, leaving no room for argument. He studies her face for a long moment, searching for any hint of insincerity or obligation, but there's nothing to find. She wants to be there for him.

Finally, shakily, he nods, and she smiles. "Good."

With that, she curls back into his side, and they stay there for a long time.

Also on AO3.

#garcy #garcy ff #timeless #garcia flynn #lucy preston #my fics #my writing #my works #mine

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sxpiosexualx · 7 years ago

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ASoS Jonsa parallels (pt.2)

More parallels just occurred to me from Jon and Sansa’s second chapters in A Storm of Swords. I covered the abundant parallels from their first chapters in this book here. This is cut with ‘Keep Reading’ because it ended up just as lengthy as my first post.

In Jon’s second POV chapter, Tormund asks him why he hasn’t warmed up to Ygritte, leading up to the prospect of having children:

“You are a free man now, and Ygritte is a free woman. What dishonor if you lay together?”

“I might get her with child.”

“Aye, I’d hope so. A strong son or a lively laughing girl kissed by fire, and where’s the harm in that?”

Words failed him for a moment. “The boy... the child would be a bastard.”

- Jon II, ASoS.

in the following chapter, Sansa dreams of having children:

If I give him sons, he may come to love me. She would name them Eddard and Brandon and Rickon, and raise them all to be as valiant as Ser Loras. And to hate Lannisters, too. In Sansa’s dreams, her children looked just like the brothers she had lost. Sometimes there was even a girl who looked like Arya.

- Sansa II, ASoS.

This chapter(Jon II) is also where the first occurrence of Ygritte telling him he knows nothing, takes place:

“Jon Snow, you know nothing. You don’t go in with clothes.”

[...]

There were tears on Ygritte’s cheeks when the song ended.

“Why are you weeping?” Jon asked. “It was only a song. There are hundreds of giants, I’ve just seen them.”

“Oh, hundreds,” she said furiously. “You know nothing, Jon Snow. You—JON!”

- Jon II, ASoS.

interestingly enough to note, Sansa’s chapter follows with:

They are children, Sansa thought. They are silly little girls, even Elinor. They’ve never seen a battle, they’ve never seen a man die, they know nothing. Their dreams were full of songs and stories, the way hers had been before Joffrey cut her father’s head off. Sansa pitied them. Sansa envied them.

Jon is made to wear a sheepskin cloak, given by the King beyond the wall to better fit his new environment:

Jon wheeled and followed Tormund back toward the head of the column, his new cloak hanging heavy from his shoulders. It was made of unwashed sheepskins, worn fleece side in, as the wildlings suggested.

[...]

Mance Rayder had not been blind to Rattleshirt’s mistrust of the ��crow-come-over,” so after he had given Jon his new sheepskin cloak he had suggested that he might want to ride with Tormund Giantsbane instead

[...]

Jon’s breath misted the air. If I lie to him, he’ll know. He looked Mance Rayder in the eyes, opened and closed his burned hand. “I wear the cloak you gave me, Your Grace.”

- Jon II, ASoS.

Meanwhile in the following chapter, Sansa is getting her measurements taken, by order of the Queen regent:

“A new gown?” she said, as wary as she was astonished.

“More lovely than any you have worn, my lady,” the old woman promised. She measured Sansa’s hips with a length of knotted string. “All silk and Myrish lace, with satin linings. You will be very beautiful. The queen herself has commanded it.”

[...]

She would wear her new gown for the ceremony at the Great Sept of Baelor, she decided as the seamstress took her last measurement. That must be why Cersei is having it made for me, so I will not look shabby at the wedding.

- Sansa II, ASoS.

The theme of sexual awakening is also present in both chapters. In Jon’s, it’s brought forward through Ygritte’s persistence:

Every night when they made camp, Ygritte threw her sleeping skins down beside his own, no matter if he was near the fire or well away from it. Once he woke to find her nestled against him, her arm across his chest. He lay listening to her breathe for a long time, trying to ignore the tension in his groin. Rangers often shared skins for warmth, but warmth was not all Ygritte wanted, he suspected. After that he had taken to using Ghost to keep her away. Old Nan used to tell stories about knights and their ladies who would sleep in a single bed with a blade between them for honor’s sake, but he thought this must be the first time where a direwolf took the place of the sword.

- Jon II, ASoS.

While in Sansa’s chapter, she comes to acknowledge the changes in her own body:

“Your bosom will be as lovely as the queen’s,” the old woman said as she looped her string around Sansa’s chest. “You should not hide it so.”

The comment made her blush. Yet the last time she’d gone riding, she could not lace her jerkin all the way to the top, and the stableboy gaped at her as he helped her mount. Sometimes she caught grown men looking at her chest as well, and some of her tunics were so tight she could scarce breathe in them.

- Sansa II, ASoS.

Furthermore, GRRM makes a point to have Jon wonder of Arya when he’s faced with Ygritte(on account of her feisty nature):

She reminded him a little of his sister Arya, though Arya was younger and probably skinnier. It was hard to tell how plump or thin Ygritte might be, with all the furs and skins she wore.

- Jon II, ASoS.

However, as a reader we may be made to subconsciously think of Sansa(as if he means to hide the possibility of her emerging as a love interest) as well, through the way she’s described:

The wildlings seemed to think Ygritte a great beauty because of her hair; red hair was rare among the free folk, and those who had it were said to be kissed by fire, which was supposed to be lucky. Lucky it might be, and red it certainly was, but Ygritte’s hair was such a tangle that Jon was tempted to ask her if she only brushed it at the changing of the seasons.

At a lord’s court the girl would never have been considered anything but common, he knew. She had a round peasant face, a pug nose, and slightly crooked teeth, and her eyes were too far apart. Jon had noticed all that the first time he’d seen her, when his dirk had been at her throat. Lately, though, he was noticing some other things. When she grinned, the crooked teeth didn’t seem to matter. And maybe her eyes were too far apart, but they were a pretty blue-grey color, and lively as any eyes he knew. Sometimes she sang in a low husky voice that stirred him. And sometimes by the cookfire when she sat hugging her knees with the flames waking echoes in her red hair, and looked at him, just smiling... well, that stirred some things as well.

- Jon II, ASoS.

Ygritte is described as a red haired, blue-grey eyed girl who seems to love songs(both the stories and singing) and even weeped after singing one herself. These are(more or less) things we’ve come to link to Sansa.

He found himself thinking of his sisters, perhaps because he’d dreamed of them last night. Sansa would call this an enchantment, and tears would fill her eyes at the wonder of it, but Arya would run out laughing and shouting, wanting to touch it all

- Jon III, ACoK.

She was almost in tears. All she wanted was for things to be nice and pretty, the way they were in the songs.

- Sansa I, AGoT.

She had always imagined the Night’s Watch to be men like Uncle Benjen. In the songs, they were called the black knights of the Wall. But this man had been crookbacked and hideous, and he looked as though he might have lice. If this was what the Night’s Watch was truly like, she felt sorry for her bastard half brother, Jon.

- Sansa III, AGoT.

She knew the hymn; her mother had taught it to her once, a long time ago in Winterfell. She joined her voice to theirs.

- Sansa V, ACoK.

In contrast, just in the last Arya chapter, we’re given:

“We sing real songs in the marches,” Anguy said mildly.

“Singing is stupid,” said Arya.

- Arya II, ASoS.

The lack of the mention of Sansa in Jon’s chapters have always been taken by some as his lack of concern for her however whenever she does appear, he thinks of her fondly enough i.e. there is no true bad blood. I take it as the author’s attempt making these two characters the pairing the least number of people would suspect of happening, on account of Jon’s lack of an established relationship with her in contrast to his closeness to Arya and Robb. However, this gives rise to complicated feelings once they reunite, just like it appears to have happened on the show. Sansa finds herself in a position Jon’s wife should be in, right by him as the Lady of Winterfell, giving him counsel and furthermore ruling in his stead.

It is uncanny how Sansa and Jon’s POV chapters seem to parallel each other, and I’ll bet it’s to lay the foundation of something bigger yet to happen between these two. Not to mention how Jon starts off as a bastard who rises as a Lord Commander, while Sansa starts of as a Lady who then finds herself becoming a bastard - giving way for her to truly understand Jon on another level she hadn’t been able to before(but that’s for another day and another meta).

#jonsa parallels #sansa is almost hidden in jon's chapters #almost as if to deceive the readers into buying a red herring #jonsa #jon x sansa #jonsa meta #honestly its just more of me pointing out the parallels

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nedcanquen · 7 years ago

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Kings of the Ice (or, Matt and JJ are mutual fanboys)

This is a random random Hetalia/Yuri on Ice! crossover I wrote forever ago then abandoned because I thought it didn’t go anywhere. It doesn’t really, but I just found it again today and figured it’s kind of cute as a one-shot. It’s also a continuation of sorts of the first NedCan fic I ever wrote - The Way to You - a soulmate/speedskating AU thing.

If you don’t feel like reading that whole thing, the basic premise of it was - Ned (back then, I named him Lars) and Matthew are speedskaters. Lars is ready to retire after one last season (he’s the world’s best speedskater), Matthew is competing for the first time. Their watches go off but they don’t realize it because they’re getting ready to race and their minds are elsewhere. There’s a horrible accident, Matt saves Lars’ life but is admitted to hospital, where he dreams of their souls meeting in past lives.

Pairings: NedCan, JJ/Isabella

Tags: Hetalia/YOI xover, fanboys are fanboys

It was only a matter of time before they’d meet. Lars knew this as soon as the Nike posters came out featuring this nineteen-year-old figure skating prodigy two years ago. There was something about Jean-Jacques Leroy that annoyed him to no end, a fact that Matthew laughed over when he first shared this fact with his husband.

“What exactly is it about him that bothers you?” Matthew asked, trying and failing to hide a grin.

“The kid is overconfident.”

A raised eyebrow. “YOU are giving a kid who has achieved all that he has, grief, for overconfidence?”

Lars huffed. He didn’t need to be told about his own attitude in the glory days of his speedskating years, he knew that the annoyance didn’t make much sense. But he noted the humming and general lightness in Matthew’s steps the last few days and realized that he was just a little… “You’re actually happy about this joint campaign aren’t you?”

‘Kings of the Ice’ - that was the tagline that Nike had proposed. An advertising campaign featuring Matthew Williams and Jean-Jacques Leroy ‘competing’ with each other for the title in progressively humorous situations on the ice in the leadup to the Winter Olympics. Both men had the title (though Matthew had never used that term himself) - Matthew in speedskating, as the current world number one, having built himself back up after taking a break following the horrific accident where he and Lars first met; and Jean-Jacques (JJ, as his fans, including MATTHEW, called him) who was consistently in the top five in the figure skating world, and currently had managed to wrest the number one rank away from some Russian kid this year. Lars didn’t follow figure skating, but he knew that rankings were fleeting things - you were number one this year, next year you could fall. Canada produced many skillful athletes, and Matthew and Leroy were some of the best even in that group, but this window of opportunity where both were number one? A marketer’s dream.

“I think it’s great!” Matthew confidently answered, shifting closer and making himself more comfortable on Lars’ lap. “Money from the ad campaign will also go to _______, and I don’t want this chapter of being at the higher levels in the world on the ice to end with JJ and I. I want younger skaters to see that they can do this. They can skate faster than the Dutch and for longer too, they can out jump and out perform the Russians. Why not get it into their heads? Yes, it’s a cheesy ad campaign, but even you can’t argue with the money.”

No, he couldn’t, he didn’t even know why he was complaining about it.

Maybe it was because it didn’t seem fair that Matthew seemed to be surrounded by loud and proud personalities when he was happiest sitting as one tiny being in the vastness of a natural world. Lars thought back to their epic Canadian journey together and his heart flared at the knowledge that Matthew invited him to share these peaceful and awe-inspiring places with him - just the two of them, feeling tiny and large all at once in the world. But returning to familiar life and Matthew’s decision to compete again meant a return to a strange world of too many people and too much fame - the sibling rivalry he had with Alfred in the bombastic forms it always assumed and well...being married to Lars, who may have been quieter than Alfred but no less proud to a fault. It was a world that didn’t seem to need another such person in it - and JJ Leroy was anything but quiet (did the man really have to cover himself in tattoos of his OWN initials?!)

Besides, Lars was self aware enough. He knew that it was absolutely ridiculous, that there was no reason for this feeling whatsoever, but he was a little jealous of the fact that Matthew was even a fan of JJ Leroy. Not as much of a fan as he had apparently been of Lars himself in younger years (if the hastily hidden posters from his childhood room revealed anything), but marriage and their daily relationship humanized each other. Lars would not change their warm and passionate domesticity for anything, but he was not-so-secretly happy to find out that his soulmate had adored him as a teenager. Was there really any mystery anymore when your ‘hero’ lived with you day-by-day and annoyed you by forgetting about that cup that he never remembered to put away?

“OH MY GOD I CAN’T, Isabella look! It’s MATTHEW WILLIAMS!” Even Lars had to smile, watching Leroy act uncharacteristically flustered in the presence of his husband.

‘As he should be.’ Lars thinks to himself, watching Isabella Leroy-Yang smile at her own husband, with a blush on her cheeks.

“Here! This! Please sign this?!” Leroy grabs a book out from seemingly nowhere, and of course it’s one of his own. The man is only 23 and he has already written two autobiographies, and there’s an authorized biopic on the way. Matthew was so embarrassed at the fact that there was an unauthorized biopic about him at all and didn’t watch it (Lars did, he hated the guy they cast as himself...he did NOT speak like that!)

Matthew, ever kind and wonderful, responds with a smile. “I hope you can sign one too.”

There’s excited babbling and conversation in both English and French, words from Leroy that went along the lines of “When Nike called I said YES before they could even finish! I get to work with YOU! Two Kings! It’s so perfect!”, and Lars decides to let them bond in person and takes a seat. The first day of filming will take place on the ice, and the photoshoots of them glaring into the camera to ‘challenge’ each other in their Nike gear will take place later in the week. Pity, Lars really wants to race around this rink, but he can’t cut up the ice.

He looks at them and wonders, for the first time in a long time, about soulmate watches and how lucky he is to have gotten his. He knows he would love Matthew no matter what, this he understands with all his heart, but JJ Leroy is 23 and Matthew is 28, they’re slightly closer in age than the six-year gap that he shares with Matthew, they clearly admire each other and hold the weight of the same nation on their shoulders. The thoughts don’t make sense and he knows it, but they run to some parallel world where there are no watches, and Lars wonders.

“May I join you?” Isabella is proudly holding the book that Matthew must have just signed and he can’t help but smile wider because she’s clearly starstruck.

Maybe he misjudged these two. Now he knows that he also feared that Leroy would disrespect Matthew, as Alfred sometimes did, but if anything, JJ and Isabella are in love with him.

“Of course.” He looked out at the two men laughing together as the set was prepared. “All that’s missing how is Team Canada.” He smirked, referring to the national ice hockey team. “Think you can get Nike to call them in? It would be a festival.”

She laughs. “It’s so tempting! But as fun as it would be, I think this is nicer, just the two of them. JJ has looked up to your husband forever! He’s inspired by him.”

Lars nods and wonders how Isabella Yang deals with being married to a celebrity at such a young age. It’s a little different for himself and Matthew, Lars has endured what Matthew is going through, there’s perspective. Isabella Yang meanwhile, doesn’t appear to be an athlete. That’s not what surprises him, what surprises Lars is how healthy her relationship with her husband appears to be, despite how young they were when they got married. Maybe he’s letting the stories of how difficult Alfred had found it, meeting his soulmate so young, to color his perceptions. There were exceptions to every rule after all.

There’s a silence between them for a moment, since the work is starting. Lars watches with interest as the film crews start to set up and the director briefs both JJ and his husband. He absently rubs a thumb over his wedding ring, a band of platinum, simply embedded in the centre with a tiny diamond. He remembered his heart almost stopping when Matthew formally proposed, before it leapt into life again. Matthew had beaten him, not that it was a game, it’s just that Lars had been hiding a ring in his study, trying to figure out the best time to ask the question himself.

“I bet this is all kind of commonplace for you?” She asks, and Lars looks at her somewhat confused. “I mean,” she continues, “You’ve had a career like this already, film crews, ad campaigns, endless training…”

He shrugs. “The technology changes but you’re right, for the most part it’s the same. It’s Matt’s turn now. How do you and JJ deal with,” he waves his hand at the scene in front of them. “This?”

She thinks about the answer before giving it, which Lars appreciates. “Well, JJ’s parents are competitive ice dancers, so they kinda know what’s going on. They weren’t famous like JJ, but they know the other more important stuff you know? Managing the stress, anxiety, it’s a bit of a dance, knowing when to encourage someone to push themselves to their limits because you believe in them, but also knowing when it’s gone too far and stepping back. In some ways, JJ kind of grew up prepared for all this? But after this is all done, we just go home, make hot chocolate and drink it together. So I guess my answer is, we deal with all of this with hot chocolate!” She laughs.

It sounds a little inane on the outset, but Lars knows it isn’t. It’s not the hot chocolate, it’s the normalcy and warmth of being together, the balm at the end of the day, feeling like a normal human after spending a day pushing your body to the edge of its limits. He feels a little silly then, being jealous of a 21-year-old just because his husband didn’t have Lars’ old posters hanging up in his room anymore. The posters don’t matter, not really. His medals don’t either - that’s not what’s important.

“For us it’s ice cream.”

#nedcan #fic: kings of the ice #one shot

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