#but do you actually love them if youre ignoring the genuine tragedy of the grey wardens thats integral to their plot?

[girlbob-boypants]

People keep talking about bringing the Grey Warden back as if they wouldn't be at least 50% dead and starting to wonder how flesh tastes if they were to show up

[munsons-maiden]

mason dye said jason was just a self centered asshole who lost it after losing his girlfriend, we never saw him be a bully the way we've seen other characters be before chrissy died, so to assume that he was a bully is a huge reach. and to assume that chrissy was okay with it is an even bigger reach, that girl was so traumatized and probably abused that vecna went after her before anyone else, even before the girl who literally saw someone die. and this was the 80s, it's not like women speaking up, let alone teen girls, was encouraged or common or treated seriously. for all we know chrissy could've told jason every day to be nice and he could've patronized and ignored her.

Again, everyone is entitled to their interpretation and there are a lot of grey spaces allowing for a lot of different interpretations. That being said, I'm with you nonnie.

About Jason: I don't think he was an outright bully like Tommy and Carol in ST1 for example. I think Jason is more complex than that, actually. He wants to be the Good Guy, it's his narrative, and he seemed genuinely cautious with Eddie because he's scared of him. Mason said that he was trying for Jason to have this off cult leader vibe. A cult leader is someone who needs to be loved by everyone to even gain this amount of power, so I believe if Jason bullied anyone, it would have been way more subtle than the typical bully would do it. He was biding his time with Eddie, and he was ready to sic a whole town on him pretty fast. The reason why I find Jason to be so uncanny and unsettling is that he's not that usual High School bully who's cruel but predictable. He's deeply caught up in his own narrative in which he's the hero who needs to be worshiped. The way he tells Chrissy he loves her at the pep rally for example creeped me out because it was so performative, so hollow in a truly unsettling way, the way he relished the people applauding him - and you don't need to be a fan of Billy Hargrove to see how incredibly off-putting it was to use a tragedy like the mall fire for a basketball game pep talk. I don't know if any of you has read The Shape Of Water, but Jason's descent into this sort of madness reminds me of Strickland.

And Jason's kind of cruelty and evil is not that of your typical High School bully. Mason did a brilliant job in displaying this character.

Regarding Chrissy: You summed it up perfectly; and I'd like to add that Chrissy was the first person to see Eddie, the person behind the menacing looks. You don't need to ship them in any way to acknowledge that it was Chrissy who opened up first to Eddie in this scene in teh woods. She was desperate. She was clutching onto the first lifeline and after her having initiated this stripping-down-of-masks, it takes her a split second to see the real Eddie. That says a lot about her character. In my opinion, Chrissy standing by while anyone gets bullied would feel horribly out of character for her. She's a scared girl struggling with her own demons PLUS the demon targeting her, a victim of conformity just like Eddie is. Just in a different font. And I feel like that's the point: there are those forcing conformity on others (the bullies and those who enable them) and those who fall victim to this conformity in one way or another (like Chrissy and Eddie.)

[darlingofdots]

Which is a list of reasons that I believe Harrow and Gideon will get a Happy For Now, at least:

it’s thematically set up this way. GtN was about the two of them figuring out how not to hate each other, HtN is Harrow rejecting a world without Gideon with every fibre of her being and starting to learn that love is not acquisitive, as Ianthe says, and that sacrificing herself for Gideon the way Gideon did for her isn’t the right way, either. HtN was not Harrow’s journey through the stages of grief, culminating in acceptance, it is Harrow refusing to accept that the choice presented to them at the end of GtN – the choice of Lyctorhood or death – was the only choice available. HtN is all about choices, from the false one God gives her when he says she can be his Saint or return to the Ninth despite the latter being impossible, the choice to lock her memory of Gideon away to protect her soul, to the final decision whether to stay in the River and fade or return to her body and complete the Lyctoral process. In her letter to herself, pre-homebrew lobotomy Harrow says ‘Look upon me as a Harrowhark who was handed the first genuine choice of our lives’. Gideon didn’t think she had a choice when she died for Harrow and Harrow didn’t think she had a choice when she consumed Gideon’s soul, because the universe/God/the narrative did not present an option other than Death. Everything in GtN said ‘this is how it has to be’ and HtN is Harrow saying ‘not if I get a say’. Thematically, the only way this story can be concluded is by the two of them getting to decide what the options are, and I don’t see either of them not choosing to be with the other.

The bubble sequences in HtN allow characters who were wronged in GtN to make their voice heard. The reader comes out of GtN sad, and frustrated, and probably finding it all quite unfair, and then we get to see some of the characters who were unfairly killed again and this time, they have agency and power over their situation. I’d say Dulcie is the strongest example of this: she was killed off without a thought, off-screen, but in HtN she gets to be a person who gets to actively participates in her own narrative. I choose to read this as a continuation of the theme about choices and inevitability; just because the narrative/the universe/God treated you unfairly before doesn’t mean you won’t get to have your say.  

The pieces are all there. I would say at this point it’s established that there is a way to achieve perfect Lyctorhood in which the cavalier doesn’t have to be consumed, namely because:

a) in chapter 33 of HtN, Camilla’s previously dark brown eyes are ‘neither grey nor brown but both’, a mixture of her own and Palamedes’ eye colours, which we have established is a ‘symptom’ of the bond between souls that occurs in Lyctorhood, and Palamedes’ reaction to Harrow showing up in his bubble suggests he’d figured out how to do it, made provisions for him and Camilla to do it, and fully expected Harrow to do the same

b) the whole Gideon Prime/Pyrrha situation which suggests an albeit imperfect version of the Lyctoral process can occur in which both souls survive (this is most like what Harrow ended up doing to herself, I’d say)

c) Augustine and Mercy’s theories about God’s connection with Alecto, including the eye switcheroo, sounds very plausible to me, and God pretty much admitted that the reason he killed Samael was that Anastasia was too close to achieving perfect Lyctorhood and he couldn’t risk the others either finding out that it would have been an option and resenting him for the deaths of their cavaliers (fair) or figuring out where he actually got his power from

So here’s a way for Harrow and Gideon to both be alive, fuelling each other’s power (I’d say for the final showdown against God but that’s mostly unfounded). It has also been established that Gideon’s really hard to kill: she didn’t die of the nerve gas on the Ninth and the siphoning challenge, which Palamedes calculated would leave most cavs who weren’t bred to be human batteries with brain damage at least, just knocked her out for a couple of hours. And on top of that, we know for a fact that Blood of Eden took Gideon’s body from Canaan House because it wasn’t there when the Cohort arrived and Mercy saw it. If you put all these pieces together, that looks to me like it’s setting up Gideon returning to her own body and achieving perfect Lyctorhood (which I would say symbolises perfect cooperation, perfect togetherness, perfect partnership) with Harrow. Camilla’s actions in HtN also indicate to me that she is confident she can somehow restore Palamedes in some capacity, as long as the bone she restored has his soul attached to it, and the fact that Harrow transforms the bit of skull into a hand because ‘he specifically requested movement’ suggests that there’s something to it. Admittedly Palamedes is a revenant at this point and we’ve been told they don’t really tend to stick around for too long and usually lose cohesion of spirit eventually, but I’m willing to discard that in this instance because Harrow also said he’d be mad already after eight months in the river, and she was clearly impressed by the way he’d ‘preserved’ himself in the bubble on the Riverbank. The parallels to Gideon’s soul being stored away in a kind of bubble in Harrow’s memory are, in my opinion, too strong to ignore.

Tamsyn Muir does not strike me as the kind of person who writer spend two books setting up the bond, the relationship between two characters the way Gideon and Harrow have been set up only to go ‘lol no’ at the end of it.

Bringing all of this together – obviously most of what I’ve said is ‘just’ foreshadowing and doesn’t mean it’ll actually happen this way. But there’s an awful lot of foreshadowing in both GtN and HtN, ranging from subtle to fiendishly subtle, and it’s the kind where the reader gets to a big reveal and either goes ‘oooh I was right, I knew x would happen because of y and z’ or, alternatively, spends their first reread gleefully pointing at bits of dialogue and cackling ‘Tamsyn Muir, you legend, I should have known’. It is not the kind of foreshadowing that leads the reader down one path only to go ‘ha, idiot, you really thought you knew where this was going’. Of course, sometimes you don’t know where she’s going (especially if you’re like me and just accept the wildest shit on face value the first time around), but it’s still all there if you know where to look. I think when people say they’re scared of Gideon and Harrow not being endgame or the whole trilogy just leading up to tragedy, it’s because the ‘ha, gotcha’ attitude to foreshadowing has become more prevalent in the last couple of years despite being really frustrating for audiences and, in my own opinion, not really Good Writing. Yes, the ending of GtN was a punch in the stomach, and I understand that people might not be so ready to trust the series after that. But you can’t really read HtN, which, again, is a complete and utter rejection of the ending of GtN and instead sees Harrow accepting help and care and advice from others and starting to grow into a more whole person who does not try to do everything by herself because that’s the only life she knows, and not see that bleak tragedy is not where this is going.

[juleswolverton-hyde]

Not by the Moon | 01

Genre: Smut, Romance, Strangers to Lovers, Drama, Tragedy, Werewolf AU, Supernatural AU, Bookshop AU

Pairing: Bookshop keeper!/Werewolf!JB x Reader

Warnings: Mild swearing, allusion to anxiety

Summary: Every story has a purpose or goal it is dedicated to, their authors at times going to great lengths to see the project they once started to completion. Nevertheless, the things the writers swore on to see their latest art piece to completion are static.

Unchanging.

None of them swore by the Moon nor Love because they can solely genuinely swear on all that changes like themselves.

And yet, a wolf in love foolishly swore by the moon.

That is when Time truly started ticking.

Next chapter

Masterlist

There is nothing quite like visiting a bookshop on a rainy autumn day, walking the pavements that will soon deepen in their shade of grey as the scarlet and burnt orange leaves will be decorated with tiny watery crystals. The fierce wind preludes to the sorrow of the gloomy clouds overhead, the chill creeping beneath the navy trenchcoat cooling the little skin bared by a simple ink black V-neck shirt. Caffeinated bordeaux sneakers hasten their step when leaving the district ruled by busy city life and entering the artisans district on the east side of town, where the boroughs are ruled by artists, individual shops, cafés and independent bookstores that each have their own vibe.

For a while now, a specific one has yet to be visited, intending to drop by ever since that long walk that lead through many a cobblestone street lined with brownstone houses and not a single business anywhere in sight. Except for Paper Souls, a hidden gem tucked away at the edge of the area where homes and commerce just meet and have resulted in a small store disguised as a proper worker’s house. As can be judged from the window display, the shop sells both well-known titles alongside more obscure ones, bound in editions fresh from the press and those having lived a ready life on someone’s shelves.

A second before the first tears of the heavens fall and make their presence known by ticking against the window, the bookstore is entered with a low sigh of delight. Nothing comes remotely close to the distinct scent of books, this specific combination of mustiness and ink laced with the fragrance of the weather outside and perfumes of customers. Or, in this case, solely the owner’s.

Here and there, a rumour about the man ruling the paper kingdom has been picked up and it is safe to say not all have been positive. A subject that has been frequently touched upon, oft causing more of a stir than the overall intimidating attitude, are the differently coloured eyes. One brown like hazelnuts at the end of the year and the other as blue as the ocean far outside the harbour.

The ones belonging to long blonde locks with dark roots looking up from the current read behind the counter and which are briefly met with a polite nod and casual greeting. At least one aspect of the groundless gossip is true because the disgruntled stoicism on the handsome face acknowledging the professional meaningless acquaintance silently makes the heart race and constricts the throat. It awakens the need to run and hide somewhere among the chestnut shelves, become a character in a tale so as to vanish and thus avoid upsetting the clerk by merely being present. Which might be the biggest problem, considering today’s goal of staying inside and spend it as is habitually done.

Don’t be silly. Just find a book and settle down somewhere to read a few pages. As long as you’re quiet, nothing’s gonna happen.

Thus, mayhaps repeating the self-chastisement once or twice, the creaking worn floorboards are walked upon as ghostlike as possible though every step makes the Body cringe due to the loudness disturbing the silence. 

And him.

The young man whose gaze is momentarily met before fleeing to the vintage couch in an incline with a gorgeous Penguin hardcover copy of William Blake’s Songs of Innocence and Experience, which has been found in the poetry section across from the counter. Breath was held while standing on the tips of the toes while reaching for the thin volume on one of the highest shelves, hoping to not attract attention and refusing to use one of the nearby dark-wooden stools to climb atop because such acrobatics would likely not sit well with the person causing the hairs at the back of the neck to stand on edge.

A sigh of relief cannot be helped when loosening the buttons of the trenchcoat and tossing it over the arm rest before snuggling up in the corner of the sofa. Finally a moment devoid of stress, a chance to be carried off by the works of a beloved poet and artist embodying the truth of childhood and adulthood.

But being brought back all too soon from criticism on the corrupt Catholic Church by the oppressive presence of loose ripped jeans which are perceived just above the edge of the mustard cover. Despite being barely able to gather the courage to look away from the page, lashes nevertheless look up to hands tucked into denim pockets and non-matching irises peering down. Curiously, though it is also alarming, the gaze from above is awkward as if unsettled by the mere presence of a well-meaning bookworm which confirms the assumption about being a nuisance.

Although, the paradoxically misplaced inquiry spoken in a husky voice undermines the deduction. The lowering of broad shoulders does too, allowing personal defenses to waver a bit in the pursuit of kindness. ‘’How do you like your coffee?’’

Bewildered yet finding no clear reason for the kind question in the stoicism of two-toned locks, the simple reflex of asking for a repeat is acted upon with a sheepish tongue that does not know what to make of the situation. ‘’Sorry, what?’’

‘’Coffee. How do you drink yours?’’ A gruff slightly chubby thumb points toward the door, the glass decorated with autumnal tears. ‘’It might be raining, but I still need caffeine. Figured I might as well buy you something too. So, what should I get?’’

What do I do? Do I accept the offer? I mean, he offered it, but declining would still be polite. Then again, it’s free coffee.

‘’Oh, uhm, that’s very sweet of you.’’ The bundle is put down in the lap, flabbergasted shy hands tucked between the thighs while trying to stay as small as possible. It is a silly instinct, but the closeness of the intimidating bookshop clerk calls for it. Moreover, the deep slightly hoarse tone that sounds both as if still recovering from something and being exhausted with the world does not make matters better. 

However, albeit for a split second that is not credible enough, little will-o-the-wisps illuminate the entrancing wildness of an ocean and hazelnut forest as a quicksilver smile flashes over roseate lips. A beautiful fleeting sight which might never have arisen from the solemnity resting like a mask on the youth’s face.

A daydream.

Indeed, surely that is what it must have been. What other reason could there be to show a sign of being pleased with someone who does not feel particularly welcome and at ease in this paper kingdom?

Led astray by the unfocused train of thought, distracted by what may or may not have been witnessed, the actual answer comes out on a mumble. All the while boldly looking back, wondering. ‘’An iced vanilla latte... would be nice.’’

Acknowledging the order with a mere low rumble similar to a wolf’s, the clerk sets off on a caffeinated journey and leaves an affected soul behind. 

While still being highly uncomfortable with the lad’s presence, the thought of what just happened and the offer of a drink that was not in the slightest reluctant imprints a warm impression on a racing heart. Yet, before any ungrounded fantasies arise, the poetry bundle is quickly picked up again and later exchanged for a thick volume of Keats’s poetry that has been picked up in a rush to seemingly have never moved from the leather couch. To not leave a single trace of chaos which might trigger the wrath of the bookshop keeper and perhaps end up in being drenched by cold coffee. 

All the fear is evidently in vain because, when being once again engrossed by poetry, the ghost of a touch over the cheekbone breaks the spell. As if awakening from a dream, the suggestion of the outstretched cold drink passes unnoticed. Instead, it is replaced by a look at ripped jeans beneath a loose tartan blazer, resulting in the novel discovery of a little gem embedded in the right nostril. 

The rattle of ice entrapped in plastic fully awakens the senses as well as the sharp rustle of a paper bag bearing the logo shaped like an apple out of which a bite has been taken. ‘’Here. It’s on me. Don’t think anything of it, I just don’t want you to get dehydrated or hungry.’’

‘’Right.’’ With trembling hands expecting to have the food carelessly thrown into the lap and drink pushed into the palm, the surprising meal is accepted. Without the slightest sign of pushing. ‘’Still, thanks.’’

Once again, a beastly grunt is all that is received in return before checkered trainers retreat to the front of the establishment. Strangely, they soon return with the current read which was enjoyed behind the counter alongside the cold brew that was picked up to battle the fatigue that noticeably laces demeanour. Because, when sinking back into the sofa after having been gestured at to scoot over and haphazardly making room, lashes flutter shut for longer than a mere blink. Notwithstanding, they are awake enough to notice the shift in reading. ‘’Keats?’’

‘’Uh, yes. He’s one of my favorites alongside Blake, Donne and, on occasion, Wordsworth.’’ Personal enthusiasm takes over when mentioning the last poet with whom there is a love-hate relationship, erasing any anguish at being close to the keeper of the kingdom and thus making it possible to ignore the few centimeters of space between bodies. ‘’Even though he’s basically a fraud by turning his sister’s experiences into poetry. It makes one wonder whether he had any talent to come up with something himself. Now, I do believe some of his works are genuinely his, but not all. Sorry, I’ll- I’ll shut up.’’

Questioning chestnut and water reintroduce the silence disturbed by autumnal rain accompanied by howling winds, stretching out over the empty streets. Nobody likes a blathering fool, least of all the stoic who surprisingly has decided to join one’s company. 

Or, so was the original thought that is now nullified by a sliver of a smile and something inaudible smokily mumbled beneath breath. There is no courage to inquire about what was said nor ask for a reason for being evidently entertained, simply rapidly picking up the volume again to resume reading with an overheated, ashamed mind.

Here and there, however, sneaky peeks are thrown in the direction of bleached locks thoroughly enjoying Dante’s Inferno, a work that has been on the to-be-read list for the longest time and somehow has never been crossed off.

Come on, you can do it. Ask him how it is, whether he likes Dante. Don’t be a marshmallow. Okay, one, two... fuck.

‘’How’s Keats?’’ Beating the barely daring tongue to it, the young man interrupts the hardly focused enjoyment of poetry that maybe lasted about fifteen minutes.

‘’Good.’’ More wants to be added to the opinion, but cannot be shaped nor voiced due to the bafflement at seeing sincere interest pierce through an unwavering expression. On the other hand, another unnameable sentiment underlines attitude too, floating ever so slightly beneath the surface. 

‘’You haven’t touched your food.’’ Lips slightly pout when glancing at the paper bag that rests on the trenchcoat that had hastily been draped over the other arm rest when bleached locks sat down, colourful irises dimming. 

Worry.

Why does it affect him? What does it matter if I eat or not?

To hopefully grant a bit of reassurance, an absent-minded promise is made before diving back into the misery of a nightingale. ‘’I’ll eat in a bit. Just one more poem.’’

As fast as lightning, the volume flies from hapless palms and the scent of books mingled with musky mint suddenly leans over to grab the purchased treat, fingertips pressing against the side of the thigh. Every muscle tenses up at the new form of intimacy, inwardly praying for the tartan blazer to return to his place as soon as possible. ‘’No, it’s already two o’clock and I’m sure you had breakfast early. You should eat. Where’s your coffee?’’

A trembling finger points to the untouched iced vanilla latte on the floor, put just in front of the sofa. Hands rise even higher when the bookshop keeper’s heartbeat and heated broad chest can be temporarily felt when slightly chubby digits lean over to grab the plastic cup. ‘’I’m not…’’

‘’What?’’ Clearly not understanding the need to keep looking away, unsteadily focusing on the sides of the nearest bookshelf, the question comes out agitated as the retrieved items are pushed forward, unmistakably intended to be taken. The shift in behaviour is as little comprehensible as the likely appearance of warm rosy cheeks going paired with a fist pressing on the lips, tongue-tied.

Mentally chastising oneself for the awkward display, courage is forcibly gathered to face the puzzled grumpy young man and answer with a whisper. ‘’I’m not comfortable eating in public.’’

‘’We’re not in public.’’

‘’Or with people I don’t know.’’

This revelation is clearly unexpected, eyes widening when reluctantly elaborating on an irrational fear with folded hands tucked between the thighs. For a second, there is nothing but an uncomfortable hush in which the worst outcome is vividly painted in the mind. Fortunately and oddly, it is broken as the stoic’s attitude shifts to something that has not been witnessed before and which goes against any rumour floating around town. 

A gentle smile plays around the corners of the mouth as the tense grip on the food and drink loosens, gently putting the rustling bag in the lap and a warm palm grabbing one hand to place the lukewarm cup in it. ‘’There. I’m Jaebeom, JB for short. Now, can you please eat something? And I promise I won’t judge you.’’

‘’Shouldn’t- Shouldn’t you eat something too? You look like you could use some energy.’’ Up close, the fatigue has become visibly noticeable outside the moment of sitting down and closing eyes for a little bit longer than would suffice for a blink. Affected by the niceness of the gentle acquaintance and thoughtfulness, the croissant in the bag is torn in half to offer a part to the current company. ‘’How about we share this?’’

‘’You don’t have to.’’ A low breathy chuckle rolls forth at the gesture, strangely elating the heart and stirring up a storm of butterflies in the stomach. Again, the same unintelligible phrase that was muttered under breath earlier seems to be repeated.

A penny for your thoughts. What did you say?

Putting aside curiosity to not prematurely cross any boundaries of politeness, what wants to be asked is suppressed and reformed into a request for sharing. After all, the lack of energy outlined by vague dark circles beneath non-matching irises is truly a cause for concern. ‘’Please? I don’t have that big of an appetite.’’

With a resigning sigh, the offer is accepted. Much to the strange delight of the soul who still is not entirely trusting of the bookshop keeper yet already has the mental defenses down a little bit more than before. ‘’Alright, if you insist.’’

What follows is an absolutely adorable though also surprising scenario as the pastry is enjoyed in one bite, the food disappearing without any trouble. Nibbling on the other half, staring cannot be helped as a sip of coldbrew is enjoyed to wash the treat down. However, the unintended impolite mannerism, of course, cannot pass under the radar. Hence is why dark brows furrow in puzzlement when remarking upon being a point of attention. ‘’What?’’

‘’Nothing. You just…’’ a moment is taken to try and find the right word yet failing to think of one which accurately describes the eating manner, ‘’you just wolfed that down.’’

‘’Sorry if it makes you uncomfortable. I can be a bit, well, unmannered at times.’’ The gaze focusing on the iced black coffee adds to the sorrowful side profile, unwillingly nostalgic, but unapproachable for comfort. ‘’I try not to be. I’m trying to, no, never mind.’’ Another sip. ‘’Forget it. Just eat and stay as long as you like.’’

‘’Jaebeom?’’ In a reflex, after swiftly wiping fatty fingertips on the coarse paper napkin, the bookshop keeper is grabbed by the sleeve as he tries to move away. Alarmed by the sudden bold move, non-matching irises briefly flare with an odd mixture of fear and annoyance before seemingly realizing something and thus calming down. All this goes hidden behind a badly enacted tolerating low hum. ‘’Can you, I mean, only if you don’t mind, could you... could you stay here? For a little while? At least sit down for a few more minutes. I promise I won’t stare as I did and actually read.’’

‘’You want me to... stay?’’ Dark brows furrow in a strange confusion, uncomprehending of the normal request. Although, perhaps it is not so casual seeing as it needs to be thought about. ‘’Stay? Here?’’

‘’If you don’t mind? I’m sorry if I freaked you out, I really didn’t mean to.’’

‘’You didn’t. I should be the one apologizing for being so distant.’’

‘’I don’t blame you. You barely know me.’’

‘’I don’t know you.’’ The observation hits hard, the sternness of the reply crucifying the heart and constricting the throat. How odd a fact should have this result. Withal, the misplaced hurt is a little soothed by the promise that follows. ‘’I’ll stay. But I’ll be closing in about two hours.’’

And thus, for one hour and a half, the paper kingdom falls quiet. Solely the tinkering tears of heaven decorating the glass of the windows, howling winds stirring the richly warm leaves into dance and occasional wandering lonely umbrella break the silence. Inside, the only noise to disrupt the hush is the turn of a page or sniffle that may or may not prelude to a cold. 

However, all tranquil beauty knows an end for Time always runs out. Henceforth, it is at half past four that a light tap goes paired with the barely audible comment “you have to go”. Likely due to the aftermath of being pulled from a world of poetic Nature into gloomy Reality, there is a wrong perception of Jaebeom’s voice. Surely, the sorrowful reluctance is imagined.

As you said, you don’t know me.

The mere thought pains Body and Soul when grabbing the navy trenchcoat off of the faux leather arm rest, stepping towards the bookshelf where Keats was found and the exit afterwards. No chance of wandering a little longer between the books is given, the clerk following closely behind and unconsciously guiding feet towards the entrance.

‘’Y/N? Will you, uh…’’ Restless trembling palms hover in the air like two bent paws failing to illustrate something, a rosy flush spread over the cheeks, ‘’Can I put your jacket on? I mean, let me help you put your jacket on. That’s how you say it, right?’’

With an affirming hum, big palms with slightly chubby digits are allowed to help dress into the piece of clothing.

Glide over the side of the neck when collecting hair to make it flow over the collar instead of being tucked beneath it, leaving a trail of goosebumps and sharpening breath. 

All the while maintaining eye contact, both our faces distorting with timidity. It is then that glances are haphazardly thrown around the empty store to avoid each other for a second wherein composure is hopefully found. 

And it would appear that the buff tall blonde youth is the first to do so, speech matter-of-factly when voicing an unspoken suggestion while holding on to the upper arms. ‘’I haven’t even asked your name.’’

Bashfully, the answer is uttered in a proper vis-á-vis with entrancing two-toned irises though the urge to bolt out the door remains. Nevertheless, the rapid loss of contact is disliked, JB realizing how the intimacy might come across when glancing at the fingertips digging into fabric, almost begging to stay. ‘’It’s Y/N.’’

The instinct to flee is lessened by the step forward thoughtfully repeating the name, carefully feeling out the syllables as if comprehending a siren’s song. ‘’I had a good time, Y/N.’’

‘’Me too.’’ It is true because, despite the distance that was endeavoured to be closed with food, reading and shallow conversation, the time spent together was actually quite enjoyable. Notwithstanding, too much of the clerk remains unknown to say whether all has been out of politeness or if any sincere trust has been shown.

‘’Even though you’re still scared of me?’’

‘’I’m not!’’ A sigh rolls off the tongue at the sight of a smug grin on roseate lips knowing better than to lie about genuine sentiments. ‘You’re just... just kinda intimidating.’

‘’Kinda? To me it seems like a whole lot more than ‘just kinda’. You almost seem eager to go even though you were hesitating earlier.’’ Bright hazelnut and the summer sea are overcast by lonely grief putting on the airs of suppressed rage, painfully re-establishing and enhancing the distance that was briefly shortened with a step backwards. ‘’To get away from me. Make up your mind.’’

‘’Yes, I’m intimidated by you. A lot.’’ The renewed cold emptiness is warily bridged, planning out the words to say to not make matters worse. ‘’And, to be honest, I don’t want to go. Still, it’s because you intimidate me I might seem uneasy and glad to go, but I can assure you I’m not. I really had a good time. We might not have talked a lot, but I still had a splendid afternoon. With you. And for that, I’m grateful. I’m sorry I confuse you, make you feel awkward because of my behaviour.’’

The waterfall of a confession catches the bookshop keeper off guard, but also manages to make tense broad shoulders lower their defenses as colourful eyes calm down. Digits rise from the pockets of loose ripped jeans to envelop the upper arms once more, this time rubbing them reassuringly and let the personal walls crumble too. ‘You don’t have to be afraid of me nor apologize. Look, we’ll talk about this another time. For now, you have to go and I have to close the shop. Get home safely and don’t catch a cold.’

‘’You too.’’ 

‘’Don’t worry. I won’t.’’

With a last nod and gentle smile relieved at the prospect of good health, warm palms are stepped away from.

The watery autumn chill cools the heat from being seen off by blonde locks.

I couldn’t get sick even if I wanted to.

When the enchanting scent of summer citrus, autumnal blackberries and juicy peaches has faded, the two volumes that were touched by it are picked from the shelves without a clear understanding of why. Neither is there a sense of comprehension when it comes to the sheer curiosity about what it is that the adorable shy doe so likes about these specific poets. Notwithstanding, both books are picked up and put on the counter alongside the current read to take upstairs after sweeping and properly closing the shop.

Which does not take long, soon after already stumbling up the metal stairs to the apartment above the establishment with a famished stomach and tense muscles, watching the oppressive concrete clouds slightly give way to the lilac dusk before heading inside. Fortunately, dinner has been prepared in advance so the various side dishes solely need to be warmed up in the microwave just like the rice in the cooker. The hair dye job, however, will have to wait until tomorrow. That is, if it is remembered like the face of the local historian who seems awfully fascinated by the affliction distorting identity.

Shedding off the weight of the day, clothes are removed and tossed on the couch to be replaced by the bathrobe that was put there in the morning after yet another long night filled with amnesia. Afterwards, bare feet trod to the kitchen to retrieve the cold dishes from the refrigerator and put them in the microwave to heat up. 

It’s getting late, but at least there’s still some time to read. Funny how my last thought is of you.

Just as the melancholic thought arises over a big bowl of bibimbap accompanied by William Blake’s Songs of Innocence and Experience, the screen of the phone on the counter lights up after a brief buzz. When getting up to check, the message appears to be from the supernatural scholar.

“Good luck tonight. I’ll be at your place around 7. Hopefully, you’ll be yourself again. If not, I’ll wait outside. Jinyoung.”

As always, the text is signed with the young man’s name to help ease the recovery of ever-fading memory. Even after living around three years among humans again, the ability to recall actual names alongside how to enact civilized behaviour remains hard.

And becomes more difficult with every passing day.

For now, I want to try. I want to speak to you at least one more time and explain myself. Part ways on good terms, let you know what I am.

A smile cannot be helped at the sight of the bowl next to the mustard poetry bundle, vividly re-imagining how it was held by small hands on the faux leather sofa this afternoon. 

How those same tiny digits tore off half of the croissant without hesitation and offered it to an animal, nibbling adorably on theirs while endeavouring to put on a human act and failing due to the hunger always preceding hell.

But a fantasy never lasts.

Time never stops. 

It solely ticks.

Runs out.

Hopefully, I’ll remember you.

And the moon cannot be sworn by for She cannot stay away nor remain the same. 

That night, the name of the bookish fawn is the last powerful word to recall before losing a grip on the world in the cold dark illuminated by artificial light. 

Naked and shackled beneath the concrete ground.

Hoping for a memory. 

Y/N.

[mermaidsirennikita]

1/2 if you've already discussed this please feel free to ignore! but what are your thoughts on historic mary queen of scots and her whole rivalry with elizabeth? I should disclose that elizabeth is a huge favorite of mine, but I've been trying to expand my horizons by reading a biography about mary. Kinda hurts my brain though because, while mary definitely deserves sympathy, it frustrates me to see the nuances applied to mary's life that is rarely extended to elizabeth's...

2/2 in particular, the bio i'm reading just gives me weird vibes. maybe it's just me but i feel like this dude wants to go back in time and fuck mary and that it colors his whole opinion on the elizabeth/mary rivalry. i'm gonna try a woman's book on the whole affair next and hope for a little better but who knows. anyway, sorry for rambling! would love to hear your thoughts on it all, if you are up for it

For sure I’m up for it!

The thing is that there is an inherent bias towards Mary or Elizabeth when historians discuss this rivalry, no matter who is talking. It is impossible to be objective.  Even if you prefer one over the other just a little bit, I don’t think that anyone views them totally objectively.  You either have historians who love a tragedy and subscribe overly strongly to “the winners write history”, assuming that means that everything the winners say ever is a lie, therefore siding with Mary; or you have HARDCORE VIRGIN QUEEN WHOO WHOO GLORIAAAAAANAAAAAA Elizabeth fans. 

 With that being said, I think that the BROAD bias has been in Mary’s favor because fiction also loves a tragedy.  The favorability of fiction towards Elizabeth kinda depends on how fuckable she is at the time that the store focuses on.  If the story focuses on Elizabeth when she’s young and pretty and the underdog, branded a bastard and at the mercy of her TOTALLY UNFUCKABLE sister, then Elizabeth is the beauty sexy virgin (or issss sheeeee).  If the story focuses on the true climax of the Elizabeth v. Mary conflict (which began as soon as Elizabeth took the throne in the grander scheme, but obviously comes to a head, haha, when Mary is executed) then by then... my god... Elizabeth is NOT FUCKABLE.  She is middle-aged.  She’s been through it, perhaps even suffering, egad, blemishes, from smallpox.  Marriage is a purely political question now; there is no way that she’s going to be spirited away by Robert Dudley at this point.  And her rule is no longer in question as much.  I mean, of course it was, it really was for most of, maybe even theoretically all of, her rule.  But Elizabeth is no longer an underdog at that point.  She is fully installed as queen, England is solidly in its “Protestant but I guess we aren’t like, gonna kill AS MANY Catholics haha” phase and people accept that even though she’ll probably never produce an heir of her body, she’s what they’ve got and they’ll come up with someone to succeed her.

The thing that bugs about this is that Mary was never an underdog.  And so this re-branding has to do not with the actual circumstances these women were under, but rather with the fact that Elizabeth was not sexually available and was broadly powerful, openly powerful, in a way that Mary was and wasn’t.  The fact is that Mary had every advantage compared to Elizabeth.  She was crowned a queen in infancy; her mother was a very powerful, very intelligent woman who came from a equally powerful French family; she was betrothed to a dauphin who would become king, and raised within a court that was not only powerful, but actively home to women aside from her mother who would stand as examples of politically strong femininity--Catherine de’ Medici and Diane de Poitiers.  This is not to say that Mary necessarily would have been able to learn from them.  But it’s not as if she was in some backwater wherein royal women were shut out of the room where it happens, is what I’m saying.

Now, the death of Francois obviously threw the game off.  But Mary was still a Catholic queen, in an overwhelmingly Catholic Europe.  Her legitimacy was not in question.  She was a Scottish queen that did not know fuck all about Scotland, but she was still young enough for there to be an opportunity to learn, though this certainly was never meant to be her role.  She was meant to be the mother of France’s next king more than an iron lady for Scotland.  And really, Mary did not have to be THAT savvy, right?  She just had to be able to take advice and work with the right people.  Stay in Scotland, play in England, choose a strong consort for the purpose of alliances ORRRRR perhaps none at all.

Elizabeth, who is so often painted as the mighty woman who did not have the grace to be kind to her cousin... did not begin as a mighty woman.  She was never meant to be queen of England.  Her mother was murdered by her father when she was a toddler; she was rendered illegitimate; her mother’s family was not powerful, certainly after Anne Boleyn was executed.  Elizabeth had to regain her legitimacy and then wait for two (three, if you count Jane Grey) people to die, all the while living under political and religious terror.  Elizabeth was not raised to rule.  But she was canny as fuck, and she did work with the right people.  She made the call that there was no way to safely marry without giving up power or potentially causing further strife in an already wrecked England and she stood by that.

And when you look at their communication, Elizabeth did not have this evil eye set on Mary for life.  She actually gave Mary plenty of warnings when Mary was playing with the idea of potential husbands.  She did give her options--which of course, would have put Mary and Scotland more under Elizabeth’s power, for sure, but also likely would have left Mary safer.  I doubt that Elizabeth ever was like “awwww we’ll be besties”.  Mary seems to have been genuinely naive about their relationship at some point.  I don’t think Elizabeth could afford that naivety--nor was she capable of it, perhaps.  She’d been through so much by the time she became queen that I think that she was fully aware of Mary’s status as a rival, and most importantly, as a Catholic rival and therefore a much more legitimate rival in the eyes of many both religiously and politically.  She had to know, and certainly her advisers let her know, that Mary could become a severe problem later.

Elizabeth was always paranoid, and with good reason.  Did this paranoia inform the way she handled Mary?  I’m sure it did.  Was Mary reckless, and furthermore somewhat arrogant?  Yes.  Mary never should have married Darnley on a political level, and I believe that like most rulers she likely believed that she had a divine right to rule, and based on precedent alone, was extremely unlikely to ever be executed.  Sovereign rulers just weren’t, typically.  It was shocking enough when a consort like Anne Boleyn was executed, and she was not “born” to rule.  Elizabeth--well, I’m sure she did believe she was divinely chosen, as a religious queen.  But she also had the practical experience of having to claw to her throne to war with that.  She knew that she could be killed.

The execution of Mary was a consolidation of power, but I’m not entirely sure, based off of Mary’s past behavior and tendency towards recklessness, that she wasn’t involved in the conspiracy of which she was accused.  It’s difficult to know, and it’s debated to this day with good reason.  Just as it’s debated whether or not she fully consented to the Bothwell marriage.  But we do have a precedent to go off of that leads me to believe that while she could have been a total victim, she wasn’t against making moves against Elizabeth.  No matter what, she made some exceptionally bad calls that Elizabeth just didn’t.

To me, historians have this issue with the fact that Elizabeth did wield hard power and did make active moves, whereas Mary relied more on her birthright and did follow a more conventional life path. You can really see this in the recent Mary Queen of Scots movie, which depicts Elizabeth as this ugly, repressed crone whereas Mary is sexually liberated and romantic.  Elizabeth is depicted as jealous of Mary’s maternity and beauty, when in reality--Elizabeth had plenty of men lining up to court her, was a practiced flirt, and held immense power that could very well have made up for that lack of a child thing.  It’s a very sexist viewpoint to absolve Mary of her mistakes because she’s romantic~, while holding Elizabeth accountable for every decision she made, many of which were made in the name of political consolidation and survival.

I don’t think Elizabeth wanted to kill Mary.  That was a woman of her line, a fellow sovereign queen, and yes, quite probably designated as queen by God in the viewpoint of that era.  Furthermore, Elizabeth didn’t want to set that precedent.  It wasn’t GREAT for her.  But she made that call for a reason.

(And though I find both women fascinating and tragic in different ways, I do admit my own bias towards Elizabeth.  Like, of course.)

[killthebxy]

I apologize in this seems abrasive, I just noticed how vehemently you're against the show canon. I don't blame you one bit. But wouldn't Dany being Nissa Nissa just be another way of making her a plot device for a man? Just in a more socially acceptable way than D&D did? It has the same outcome and it's still her dying by the hands of the man she loves.

          thank you for your question, friend! before i answer, let me make a disclaimer: 1) i am writing this as someone who loves Jon Snow, and therefore someone who’s biased in his favor, and 2) i am writing this as a man talking about a man. so, while i like to believe i was raised well and i can do a rational and mostly objective analysis, i am still grounded in my own experiences and my own perspectives. and nothing of what i’ll say is “the truth” or “what’s right” — simply, my own personal opinion.

          with this said… i have to start by saying that we can look at this, as we can look at most things in life, from two perspectives: we look only at the outcome, or we look at the process and at everything that led to a certain outcome. and i think this is a case where this distinction is essencial. because if you look at the outcome only — yes, the end result is exactly the same; Dany dies at the hand of Jon, a woman dies at the hand of a man. but this would be like me looking at the season finale and thinking: well, Jon got exactly the endgame i always wanted for him, so i have nothing to complain about — i can’t do this. i can’t ignore everything that brought him to this outcome, i.e., the process. i can’t ignore that his essence as George’s character was completely destroyed to lead to this apparently perfect outcome.

          so, if we look at Dany dying in the show, what do we see? i, at least, see a narrative written for the sole purpose of stating: this woman is mad, she needs to be removed and we’ll make her be removed by the hand of the man she loves for bonus shock points. this is literally all i see. i know some people defend there was already signs of Dany going mad, how for example the throne room covered in ash like it happened in her vision in the House of the Undying in s02. and to this i ask two questions: 1) as someone who knows what D&D have been doing to this series, do you guys seriously believe they, back in like 2012 or whenever s02 happened, had the capacity to plan this far ahead for the sake of a plot that has continuity?; 2) as someone who is a researcher and a science nerd — if we look at data in retrospective, we can make this data give us literally any outcome we want, provided we apply the suitable statistical analysis. in this case, if we look back through the seasons, yes, we can definitely find arguments that Dany was going mad, if we want. BUT. we can also look back through the seasons and find arguments that Dany was someone with a good heart, who made mistakes and bad decisions but who wanted to be a kind and just ruler for her people. so, whatever we extract from this series in retrospective is whatever we want to find. this much is on us, not on D&D’s capacity to build a continuous and coherent plot because this much we all agree is non-existent.

          now, if we look at the idea of Jon being Azor Ahai reborn, and Dany being Nissa Nissa reborn… first of all, this is as much based on personal headcanons as the previous point is built on what the show gives us. i cannot judge this idea based on facts, because this never happened in the show neither in the books — everything i put together for this idea is based on my own creativity, like for example in the background i wrote for my mad king verse, or on everything i have discussed with @zcldrizes. in the first case, my verse, it is actually interesting you brought up this question because i have wondered about it myself. am i doing this in a sensible way? am i not using Dany (and everyone else included in that background) just for my own purpose? and, in a way, i am — i admit that i am, because my outcome was that Jon is crowned and slowly loses himself, and to reach this outcome i needed to build a background that supports it in a logical way. i dislike the idea that being Targaryen = inexorably being mad, therefore i tried to put together a storyline where trauma and grief bring him to this — for which i needed vital characters to die, as they are the ones he loves the most. this is why i tried to give them a purpose in that verse, and not just state that they died because they had to, so to speak. this is also why that verse is very flexible and can accommodate many different possibilities, because i wanted everyone who’s possibly interested in writing that idea with me to be able to fit their muse in, and not just be excluded because “sorry but your muse needs to die so that Jon can go mad”. which, in turn, this is why this verse in particular only works with extensive plotting with my roleplay partners.

          and now let me quickly apologize, because i know i am digressing a lot! but i need all this foundation to ultimately answer your question with the depth it requires, so please bear with me. because this is bringing me close to the core of the question — if Dany is Nissa Nissa, doesn’t this make her a plot device for Jon? for this, i have to state my perspective on what a plot device is: a character whose only (or limited) purpose in a narrative is to provoke something else of note for another character. three blatant examples when it comes to Jon: Rickon Stark, whose only purpose to be brought back was to be killed in front of Jon, for the sake of triggering Jon into that mad rage that would have resulted in losing the battle against Ramsay if it wasn’t for Sansa’s intervention; Benjen Stark, whose only purpose to be brought back was to provide a semi-rational justification for Jon to be able to return to Eastwatch; Grey Worm, who was made to attack the unarmed Golden Company after they yielded just for the sake of making Agony Targaryen look like this honorable man who’d never put up with this. and now a blatant example when it comes to Daenerys: Missandei, who had to be beheaded whilst back in chains for the sake of being the ultimate trigger for Dany going mad. arguably, Missandei and Grey Worm had a much broader purpose than Benjen and Rickon, but the logic is the same. all of them, in the end, became plot devices that had their own story and identity erased for the sake of fueling another “superior” character.

          and this is why i personally don’t see Dany = Nissa Nissa as being at the same level, or as a plot device. a plot turning point? yes, definitely. a plot device, no, because i personally don’t think this erases her story and identity and purpose. again, let me reiterate that this is based on what Artie and i have plotted — i cannot talk for what might have happened in the show, or what may happen in the books — because it will depend on the process they follow to lead to this potential outcome. Artie and i have a very long, very complex plot when it comes to shipping Jon and Dany. we consider every single detail, and we’re always mindful of not erasing anything from the other’s muse. and, in our case, Dany would be a sacrifice, yes, but never a plot device. she would give her life for the purpose of forging the only weapon able to destroy the Night King and ending the Long Night — NEVER for the purpose of glorifying Jon and make him emerge from this tale as the hero who saved us all. if anything, i think no one will disagree if i say that staying alive after killing your lover by your own hand is far from being a happier ending when compared to said lover who died. it is a sacrifice for Dany, who loses her life, and it is a sacrifice for Jon, who stays alive but loses literally everything else that gave meaning to his life. and this is why i love the prophecy/legend of Lightbringer, actually, because it is based on a meaningful tragedy. it’s mutual sacrifice, it’s having a bond so strong that it is the catalyst to save this world.

          just to conclude now, if you ask me: are more female characters, compared to male characters, used as plot devices? i have no doubt of this. are more female characters used with the single purpose of fueling male characters’ pain? i have no doubt of this. are more female characters erased and belittled for the sake of glorifying male characters and put them under a positive light? i have no doubt of this. trust me, nonnie, no one in this world hates Agony Targaryen more than i do. no one in this world hates more the way in which my favorite character was portrayed as someone who’s only good and honorable when a character like Daenerys has to be ruined and removed. and i will say this to my dying breath: this thing is NOT Jon Snow and it makes me genuinely sad that people may for even a second believe this thing is anything resembling Jon Snow. i am the first one being here to vehemently (to use your word) criticize all of this, which is exactly why i have gone majorly show divergent — even during s07 i was already stating i would never acknowledge the annulment, exactly because i would never want Elia Martell to be a plot device in this regard. and please note: i’m not saying any of this to make myself look good — look at me i’m such a great guy i respect women! — i respect women, and female characters, because they DESERVE to be respected. and everything i have ditched from show!canon, i did because these amazing characters deserve so much better, and my amazing roleplay buddies who write these amazing characters deserve so much better, AND Jon Snow, my favorite character whom i love dearly, deserves so much better than to be turned into D&D’s sad puppet.

          i really hope i answered your question, friend? tl;dr — i am vehemently against Agony killing Dany in the show the way it was done, because it reduces Daenerys to a plot device and reduces Jon to someone who can only have merit if other characters become plot devices in his favor. on the other hand, in the scenario where Jon is Azor Ahai reborn and Dany is Nissa Nissa reborn, i personally see it at a completely different level, even if the outcome is technically the same — because it is a scenario highly plotted and developed by myself and Artie, and because exactly we are always very mindful to never do this to these characters whom we both love. obviously she loves Dany more and understands her better, and i love Jon more and i understand him better, but this is why we team up to salvage this ship we love and that was utterly ruined by the show. and this is why the only context where we accept Jon killing Daenerys is for the ultimate purpose of tempering Lightbringer — where Dany chooses her fate, and Jon endures the consequences of his actions.

BONUS POINTS:

          so, because we are a partnership, i shared this ask and my own response with Artie — to get her opinion as someone who writes Daenerys and understands her better than i do, as i mentioned above, and also to have her perspective as a woman. the next points, therefore, are credited to @zcldrizes to complement my own:

          Firstly, on being a plot device. I think the important thing about this is that we as the viewers are wired to look through the lense of Dany to see her as a hero, with an ultimate purpose. We have the entirety of her journey, with a backstory about her struggle for home, the fact she has suffered hardship after hardship. In my opinion, she was born “meant for something more” - and the very existence of her dragons, the fact she’s somewhat fire insensitive, all proves that she is not quite normal, compared to everyone around her. Her own journey and arc have been not just about finding home, but restoring and living up to her family’s name, and making a difference in the world through whatever ways she chooses, whether that be liberation, or saving innocent people. Her death in Season 8 served no purpose for her arc, other than to neatly line up what they needed for Jon’s storyline. Her madness in Season 8 served no purpose, other than allowing a mostly male council to choose their new male overlord, after condemning her as mad when overrun with grief. But if she was Nissa Nissa, and sacrificed her life not for Jon’s manpain, but to save the entire world, and in a way that leaves her the true hero of the story, then I think that means she’s not just a plot device. She’s a hero. And no, I don’t think she’s just driving that plot; I think the point is she made a difference to the world.

          Secondly, and the more important part of this - show canon removes her female autonomy, assuming she’s not in a rational state of mind, and then villainises her for emotion and grief. For it then to have her killed in a moment where she so very clearly places her trust in the man kissing her, a man she clearly loves, removes all autonomy because she didn’t consent to what was coming, and didn’t know it would happen. All of her ability to predict that behaviour is gone, which means she had no knowledge of her death, and thus, the scene occurs in a way that leaves those rules particularly unbalanced. A Nissa Nissa scenario is something she consents to; something she wants because it’s right, and it’ll save the world, and this is the most important thing. Daenerys gets to choose to die saving the world she wanted to build. 

          Finally, on the outcome and whether or not this is just to be more feminist friendly and socially acceptable. The first thing to note is that the outcome isn’t the same. In one, she dies after going mad because her male counterpart has deemed her unsafe to live with how insane she is. In the other, she dies to save the world - and importantly, consents to doing so. And depending on the way the rest of the thread runs, I suspect it would be very well known what she gave up in order to keep the people of the Seven Kingdoms safe. So rather than this being to get the traction of anyone saying this isn’t a sexist ending, consider: yes, it’s a socially acceptable ending, but only because it acknowledges the strength of women in whatever they do to contribute to the world. Daenerys deserved better than to die as a rabid dog for the slaughter; but in saying that, an extraordinary woman deserved an extraordinary death, and what better way than dying saving the world?

          Finally, feminism celebrates choice in all forms - Dany would have chosen to die as Nissa Nissa, and if that empowered her, we shouldn’t condemn that.

[owl-eyed-woman]

Attack on Titan Season 2 Episode Analysis - Episode 9 (Episode 34)

Last week, I briefly expressed frustration over the lack of focus on Eren’s troubling predicament.  Well, I guess the show read my mind, because this episode is all about Eren, consisting almost entirely of an extended conversation between Eren, Reiner, Bertholdt and Ymir. I see now why they structured these episodes as they did; by getting last week’s stuff out the way, this episode can concentrate on Eren’s experience.

Now, I do need to impress just how light this episode is on any plot. To be reductive, this episode is basically just 4 titan-shifting kids hanging out in the trees and chatting. It’s about as chill as an episode about being kidnapped could possibly be.  

The only time we cut away from this scene is to remind us that the scouts are closing in as a type of ticking clock and to show us that maybe, finally, after so many episodes, Hanji might have figured out that humans have been turning into titans (we’ve waited so long, please I’m so tired). Apart from these brief digressions, this episode is all about an intense yet intimate situation, providing an opportunity to show off AOT’s deft characterisation.

But before we get to all that fun character stuff, we first need to establish the specifics of the situation. Or in other words, we need an explanation for why everyone can just chill out and talk for a while. The reason for this is relatively simple; there’s literally nothing else they can do.

AOT makes it abundantly clear that they have reached a stalemate, lovingly detailing the reasons why their only option is to sit around and shoot the shit. They’re good reasons too: they’re surrounded by titans, Reiner and Bertholdt are the only ones with ODM gear, all of them are too exhausted to turn into titans, they need to heal, and so on. Every possibility is accounted for and comprehensively dismissed, just to force the audience to suspend their disbelief and hopefully alleviate our inevitable frustration. It’s quite sneaky when you think about it.

So Eren is caught in a situation where wits and a cool head are essential. To further complicate matters, Eren is forced to work with Ymir. This is the first time we’ve seen Eren and Ymir properly interact and I think I can guess the reason why; Eren and Ymir are such fundamentally different people, it’s obvious that they really don’t like each other. Eren is naturally idealistic and moralistic, wearing his emotions and his ethics on his sleeve. Ymir is unfailingly cynical and frequently selfish, concealing her true intentions behind several layers of snark and misdirection. If they had to choose who they’d be stuck with like this, I’m sure that they’d be each other’s last choice. It’s telling that Eren, the guy who trusts almost every single one of his fellow cadets, isn’t sure if he can trust Ymir.

In general, this whole situation is completely antithetical to Eren. Eren is a man of action and emotion, so the fact that he has to stay put and stay calm is practically torture. Funnily enough, Eren is fully aware of this and that, in order to succeed, he’ll need to supress his emotions; this is obviously a big ask for Eren, the most emotionally volatile character in AOT. I mean, I’m sure he’ll fail (and he does) but it’s nice to see that he’s aware of his flaws and is actively trying to address them. Progress!

Ymir, on the other hand, is frankly excelling. One of Ymir’s defining character traits is her ability to conceal her emotions and intentions, remaining cool and detached while secretly pursuing her goals. She is in her element and she is playing the people around her so well. Ymir seems bored and honestly indifferent to the situation, but all the while she’s gathering information and investigating her enemies’ intentions. This doesn’t go entirely unnoticed by Reiner and Bertholdt, but she’s successfully using her façade of aloofness to confront them and bide her time (what for, we’ll have to see).

Still, Eren and Ymir are only one plate on offer in this tension buffet. Another integral dish to this very messy situation is the current betrayer of the day, Reiner.

For the first half of this episode, Reiner is a suitably imposing captor, acting very straight-laced and intimidating. But then, something changes. Entirely unprompted, Reiner starts talking about completely mundane topics, about military promotions, about being worked too hard, as if he was still a soldier and not a traitor. For a brief moment, the Reiner we knew and loved, the one who cares about his friends and who wants to marry Christa, is back. But it’s all so wrong.

When Reiner’s true motivations were revealed in episode 6, it was honestly a challenge to reconcile this new knowledge with how I’d previously understood Reiner. Reiner truly seemed like a morally upstanding, sincerely loyal soldier, more so than Bertholdt or Annie. Could I have completely misread Reiner? There had to be more going on to justify this unexpected about-face.

Now, we finally get an answer as the true depths of Reiner’s psychology are revealed. In the face of his incredible crimes against humanity, Reiner’s guilt became so great that his mind and memories split into two different personalities. All this time, there have been two separate sides to Reiner, warrior-Reiner and soldier-Reiner. One side is aware of his monstrous crimes and his ultimate aim, and the other side is entirely oblivious to the truth as a coping mechanism to live with the guilt and find solace in the simple life of a soldier. All those shots of Reiner’s reflection in the water in episode 6 definitely make a lot more sense now; they were there to foreshadow Reiner’s bifurcated personality.

Reiner’s act as a loyal soldier was so convincing to me because he had convinced himself it was legitimate. Unlike Reiner, Bertholdt and Annie never risked their lives for another soldier or even got emotionally invested in their deception; such actions could jeopardise the mission, which a true traitor wouldn’t do. It all makes sense, then, why Reiner risked his life for his comrades and seemed to genuinely care for his fellow soldiers – because one side of him actually did!

Of course, Ymir and Eren are completely shocked and dumbfounded when they realise just how unhinged Reiner truly is. Bertholdt’s reminder that he’s a warrior, not a soldier, snaps Reiner back to reality and has an almost triggering effect on Reiner. He starts to shake with fear and suffer through a PTSD-style flashback. He actually starts crying; that’s how traumatic it is.

As is to be expected, Eren doesn’t react to this revelation well. Reiner and Bertholdt’s betrayal has been incredibly painful for Eren to deal with and he’s still working through conflicting feelings of love, hate, anger and betrayal. To have this betrayal complicated by the fact that Reiner was (in his own messed-up, split-personality way) sincerely loyal this entire time, is truly confronting for Eren. This is all compounded by the fact that Reiner and Bertholdt’s actions directly resulted in his mother’s death; his beef with Reiner is deeply personal.

So in the wake of this reveal, Eren is justifiably livid and almost sanctimonious, verbally attacking Reiner and rejecting his right to this emotional trauma and guilt. Usually, I question Eren’s propensity to ignore the moral complexity of these situations, but he makes a salient point here; Bertholdt and Reiner did horrible, monstrous things, so how much sympathy do they deserve? I do think it’s important to remember that no matter how relatable and sympathetic they may seem, our true sympathy must remain with the tens of thousands of people that died because of their actions. As Eren argues, they aren’t soldiers or warriors or any other noble classification, they’re just murderers.

But then Eren goes and takes it too far, demanding that they stop pretending to have emotions because they aren’t human anymore. I had honestly hoped that episode 7’s fight was a sign that Eren could acknowledge the humanity of his enemies, rather than simply dehumanising them to make them fit into his moral worldview. Sadly, Eren has reverted to his typical response. It’s always one step forward, two steps back with Eren. Humans can do monstrous things, Eren (that’s the point of your show).

Dangerously, Eren’s moralism blinds him to the bigger picture. He focuses far too much on the clear-cut evil in front of him that he is unable to realise that Reiner and Bertholdt are almost certainly pawns in a much larger conspiracy. Yes, they did something horrible, but there is still so much we haven’t been told about the circumstances surrounding their participation in this massacre. While, I’m sure this will not absolve them of their crimes, it will at least explain their motivations and add nuance to this tragedy.

Reiner doesn’t react well to Eren’s virulent condemnation either, and angrily asks what Eren wants from him since his diatribe won’t bring back the people they killed.

Eren’s reaction to this is really fascinating. He is taken aback but then he admits to his naivety and vows to “make you guys suffer in the worst way possible”. There’s something monstrous about the way Eren says this.  At this point, Eren isn’t trying to do the just or moral thing, he simply wants the most violent, painful kind of revenge. Eren isn’t as pure or as good as he thinks he is. He has a cruel, monstrous side that has grown more and more pronounced.

This proclamation might have led somewhere too. But then, Ymir scoffs at him, telling him off for his childishness. Morally, Ymir is the complete opposite of Eren. Eren sees the world in strict black and white and truly believes right and wrong can be delineated in every situation. Ymir is all grey, prioritising her own wellbeing and rejecting moral codes in lieu of self-preservation.

So when she hears Eren’s very simplistic response, she completely rejects it. Ymir doesn’t care about who Reiner is or if what they did was right or wrong. Besides, Ymir knows there’s a bigger enemy behind all of this. But before she can tell Eren who this enemy is, Reiner interjects.

Since Ymir already knows so much and is so unaligned morally, Reiner offers her a chance to join their side. Ymir initially balks at this - she has no reason to trust them or side with them. But then, Reiner brings up Christa. Ymir is often a confusing, complicated character, but one thing has been made very clear: she genuinely loves Christa and will do anything to protect her. This is the key to Ymir’s allegiance and Reiner knows this.

As this episode has shown us, Ymir has no love (or even loyalty) for Eren, feeling either indifference or antipathy. Every interaction with him thus far has been a tactical move to ensure her survival. But when Reiner says that they can protect Christa and appeals to this side of her, Ymir makes her choice to side with them. Ultimately, while Ymir values her own wellbeing, she will prioritise Christa over herself no matter what.

I can only say that I genuinely hope Christa can snap Ymir back to her senses. It’s hard because I desperately want Ymir to stay on Eren’s side, even though it makes complete sense that she would go against him. It’s such good characterisation, even if it pains me to watch her make this choice.  

On that depressing note, the episode ends. It’s a fairly simple episode, but still well-done overall. All will be decided next time…

[joannalannister]

Is there any chance of a happy ending for the Lannisters? I know they are awful people but why develop their motivations and give each of them a genuine moment of compassion if they are just going to murder each other? Every other POV gets a moment of truth/redemption why not the children of Tywin/Patriarchy/Aerys and Disability? I'm a bad person myself so I need to believe the Lions can defy themselves and prophesy and overcome their nature or what's the point? Not all of us are born Starks.

Hey! So it’s gonna take me a few minutes to answer your question, but I promise I’m gonna get there.

In one of the other shows I watch, an actor commented on the banality of evil. He said that evil is something commonplace. Given the right circumstances, great acts of evil could be committed by your neighbors, or your friends, or you, or me. Because evil is so easy. “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.” You needn’t be a monster like Gregor to commit evil; you need only be human. 

As that actor said, it’s very dangerous to think “If they do something evil, they’re a monster, because regular people could never do that.” But regular people could do that, and they have, throughout history. But in fiction, we like to other evil. We like to say, “Those are the bad guys, see their uniforms? They’re not us, they’re not on our side.” It becomes very black and white, and it’s one of the reasons for the enduring popularity of a certain type of movie. “We’re attracted to it because of its moral certainties.” For the record, I really like that genre of movie. But we should be asking ourselves why. We as human beings prefer to simplify and distance ourselves from evil, and to ignore or diminish our own atrocities, which we rarely make movies about. It makes us feel better about ourselves to ignore the bad parts of ourselves, and to play the hero. Even Cersei does this; think about Cersei’s revisionist memories of what happened to Melara Hetherspoon.

GRRM doesn’t want his readers to have an easy time distancing themselves from evil. ASOIAF is never, “Here are the Bad Guys in their Clearly Marked uniforms with their Bad Guy flag flying high.”** In fact, GRRM even said that he deliberately wanted the Night’s Watch, the people fighting on the front lines of the Other invasion, to wear black because he wanted to mix up the color symbolism in fantasy. “Before you can fight the war between good and evil, you need to determine which is which, and that’s not always as easy as some Fantasists would have you believe.” 

(Tangent, but an interesting thing about Jaime imo is that he doesn’t always know where he stands in terms of good and evil. Sure, he knows that things like rape are wrong on an individual level, but on an institutional level, he thinks nothing of the institutionalized rape of Sansa Stark or Jeyne Poole, and he legitimately thought Tysha was just a gold digger. He doesn’t think House Lannister as an institution is bad, so he willingly does things like kick the Tullys out of their own home. There’s this narrative going around in fandom that Jaime’s actions during the FeastDance are things he’s done against his will, but Jaime participates willingly, in thought and deed, and he actively wants to keep Tommen on a throne to which the boy has no right. Even in ADWD, Jaime still thinks, like, “Well, massacring a whole family takes care of the problem.” If you’re looking for someone who actively criticizes and rebels against the Lannister regime, both in his thoughts and in his actions, that’s Tyrion.) 

SO ANYWAYS, grrm doesn’t want you to be able to say, “Those are the Bad Guys over there. We’re gonna go fight them and kill them.” (He actually says the opposite tbh: “Those are brave men. Let’s go kill them.”) 

GRRM wants you to pull those Bad Guys in close and have them put their head on your shoulder as you whisper softly, “I understand. I know this pain you’re in. It’s my own.” And then, after you’ve smoothed their hair and made them a nice cup of hot cocoa and gotten them comfortable and maybe had a good cry together, you’re supposed to look into that character’s eyes and say, “WTF is wrong with you? Look at your life; look at your choices. I’ve dealt with these same issues my whole life and I never became a mass murderer or did any of the other horrible shit that you did. You need to shape up, or else you’re going to be fucking doomed. You don’t get to keep digging this hole deeper for yourself and think it’s gonna come out ok!! You’re literally in a fucking GRRM novel ffs, do you even know how high that guy’s kill count is???”

(This is literally like Sandor Clegane’s story. On the Quiet Isle, he figures out he needs to shape up. He no longer works for the Lannisters. Not everybody’s story needs to be about redemption, though. Some stories are tragedies.)

If the Starks are the characters you should aspire to be (and lbr, the Starks are who you should aspire to be; there’s a reason everybody in canon wants to be a Stark, from Robert to Theon to Barbrey etc)

then the Lannisters are the warning against who you could become, if you aren’t careful. You came to me saying, “I’m a bad person myself.” idk if you wanted me to tell you, “That’s ok, it’s all going to work out” but I’m not gonna do that. That’s not how it works, in either fiction or real life. 

I see a lot of myself in House Lannister. Selfishness. Avarice. Pride. Shame. Perfectionism. These things resonated with me when GRRM wrote about them in the Lannisters, precisely because he made the Lannisters so real. In other fantasy stories, sure, the villains are proud or selfish or whatever, but they’re so clearly the Evil Bad Guys that they were never relatable to me. 

GRRM brought so many of his antiheroes / anitvillains / villains so close to home that I couldn’t ignore them. I couldn’t other them and dismiss them. The Lannisters called to me. They demanded I read and write fanfiction, even, to explore these issues further. The Lannisters showed me who I could be, and what terrible, terrible things I might be capable of, in the right scenario. GRRM turns it up to 11, but still. The Lannisters warn me: don’t be that person. 

That’s why I get so happy at the idea of the Lannisters being brought down. It’s a very personal victory; that ugly, horrible person I could have been was defeated. 

Cersei has her moments of truth in the narrative where people tell her she needs to shape up, and she ignores them. Outside the sept of Baelor, the people tell her they don’t want vengeance; they just want to live their lives in peace. And Cersei doesn’t listen. If you’re heading for a trainwreck and you don’t heed any of the warning signs, I’m sorry but it’s not going to be okay in the end. For Jaime and Cersei, I think their story is about existential tragedy - they will ultimately be unable to rise above their Lannister ideology, and for that the narrative will demand their deaths. And that’s ok. The Bad Guy characters can crash and burn, but you don’t have to if you heed the warnings they ignored. 

The other thing I will say, after reading other works written by GRRM and getting a feel for his endings … it’s not about whether you live or die. We all die. Every single person who reads this is going to die. It’s not about the happy ending, either. Winter – the bad times – come for us all. Maybe the bad times will come again only after 10 years, or 20, but they will come. (lol at theories that the seasons will be “normal” in ASOIAF at the end.)

What matters in GRRM’s stories is whether the character took a stand. Did they fight for what was right? Did they do that good thing when they had the chance? Did they achieve that existential victory? I think this is the part that applies to Tyrion especially. 

Tyrion is GRRM’s fav and he’s one of the greyest of the greys. He does horrible unforgivable things in the books. But there’s going to come a pivotal moment when Tyrion has to choose, and I think that he will make the Good choice, even if it kills him. (Perhaps especially if it kills him, in the ultimate self-sacrifice.) Because it doesn’t matter if he dies. Like I said, we all die. What matters is what you did with your life. Were you victorious in that moment when you had to make a choice between Good and Evil? 

And that’s something that I love about ASOIAF tbh, that GRRM brings the War for the Dawn home. It’s a war inside each of his characters (#body as battleground, im gonna keep saying it), it’s in the conflicts of the human heart, in the choice between good and evil. 

“The war has been waged since time began, and before it is done, all men must choose where they will stand.” 

“It hurts, boy,” he said softly. “Oh, yes. Choosing … it has always hurt. And always will. I know.”

The point of art isn’t necessarily the art itself but how we respond to it. How did it make you feel? What did it make you think about? What did you do, after you put the book down and went out again into the real world? 

As we ride around in these characters’ heads, the War for the Dawn becomes our war too. It’s our fight between good and evil. It’s a war that’s more real than a battle against orcs and monsters. (Think about Jon Snow’s choice to let wildling refugees in through the Wall, and how many senior Night’s Watch officials oppose what he’s doing. Think about it.)

Like I said above, not every story is a redemption arc. I don’t think Jaime’s story is a redemption arc, for example. Some stories are tragedies, where the character dies in the end, because they couldn’t overcome their nature (like Jaime as the valonqar). It’s not the death that’s the point, but the journey you went on with that character. How did it make you feel? 

I mean, GRRM is literally making you feel empathy for murderers. 

Would you be half so concerned with what’s going to happen to the Lannisters at the end if GRRM wrote them as Pure Evil™, without any of those sympathetic moments? In other words, how do you feel about Gregor? Will you care when Gregor dies? I know I won’t. GRRM wrote the Lannisters the way he did, with complex motivations and heartbreaking moments and compelling backstories, because he wanted to breathe life into them and make them real. 

GRRM wanted to make you care before he kills them, so that their deaths will affect you more strongly, so that these feelings, these critical thoughts, these lessons you learned will linger looooong after you turn the final page. (Have I told y’all how much Fevre Dream and With Morning Comes Mistfall HAUNT me??? Oh god do GRRM’s stories linger. Y’all think this is all gonna be over and done with after we turn the final page of ADOS and Blood of Dragons and D&E. Heh. I know better. I know better. ASOIAF is for life.) 

If the thesis of ASOIAF is to recognize our common humanity and to understand that dehumanizing people is wrong, your sympathetic emotions toward the villainous Lannisters go a long way toward supporting GRRM’s thesis on a meta-level. 

**The Others are clearly evil eldritch slavers, but the focus of the story is never on them. We’re almost exclusively focused on what humanity is doing, for 5 books now.

***Also, I’m not sure why Aerys is included here when referencing Tywin’s children, but I’m going to overlook that and point you here: #A plus J does not equal T

EDIT: I think I said this better over here so I’m just gonna paste it below:

GRRM brings the war home when he writes about the conflicts of the human heart. It implies a personal battlefield inside each of us, a perpetual fight of Good versus Evil, consisting of all those choices we make, each and every day. (Even the choices you make about ASOIAF. Doesn’t that make you feel … idk … bigger … more important … more involved … as a reader, that one of the great battlefronts of the War for the Dawn is located inside your head, in terms of your opinions about and reactions to ASOIAF?)

[cubetoasty]

Patater Week Day 4 - AU

Alexei laces up his skates on the bench, humming tunelessly but cheerfully. Of the many PR duties that the Falconers have, stuff with kids is one of the few things that he genuinely looks forward to. He’s glad he was one of the ones who got to do it this time. And this, volunteering with the Little Falconers program, was even better than the Children’s hospital because these kids aren’t sick. He could see some kids on the benches some distance away with their parents lacing up their skates, looking at him shyly and clearly gathering the nerve to come over. There was a small group of them already out on the ice, clumped around Snowy and looking at his goalie equipment with awe. They were shorter than Snowy’s waist and it was probably one of the cutest things Alexei had ever seen.

“Are you really Mr. Tater?” A little girl had become brave enough to approach Alexei, her hair in tiny braids and wearing a miniature Zimmerman jersey.

“Yes, you can call me Tater,” he smiled down at her. “Your name is?”

 “Marissa,” she said with slight lisp.

 “Well, Marissa, you ready to skate?” he asked. At her eager nod, he gently took her hand and helped her over the lip of the rink and onto the ice. She barely wobbled at all.

 “Come on, let’s skate!” he said to the rest of the kids who were watching from the bench. “Can you catch us?” Alexei towed Marissa, who was shrieking with laughter, down the ice, The rest of the kids caught on and chased them, shouting too.

 A sharp whistle cut over the sound of yelling and laughing kids. “Come on guys, time to start!”

 Alexei looked up at the voice and immediately forgot any English he had ever learned. The man standing on the ice with the whistle was probably the most beautiful person he had ever seen. He was blonde and lithely muscled, freckles gracing his scrunched up nose as he smiled fondly at the kids hanging off Snowy’s gear. His eyes were some kind of crazy color; Alexei couldn’t tell if they were blue or grey or hazel–

 Alexei’s skate hit a divot in the ice and next thing he knew he was flat on his stomach. He heard a little voice say, “Mr. Tater fell!” and next thing he knew he was crowded by little bodies looking down at him and trying to figure out if it was a game they could play. Alexei had a sudden flash of fear as he thought of their precarious balance and sharp blades attached to their feet, before the same voice from before said, a lot closer, “Okay, give him some space.”

 A hand reached down. Alexei took it and next thing he knew he was face to face with the beautiful man, who was keeping an admirably straight face, although his eyes were dancing with laughter.

 His eyes looked green, now, and he had cowlicks in his hair.

 “You okay?” the man asked, corner of his mouth quirking up.

 Alexei stared.

 He tried desperately to remember English, any English. “Da, yes, yes.” He swallowed, sweating. “Fine.”

 “Good, because I don’t think we can afford to lose one of our best d-men because he was taken out by a bunch of children. Although, if kids this size could knock you off your skates maybe we’d be better off, huh?”

 He was funny and smart, too. Of course he was.

 Alexei laughed, but he was pretty sure his face was doing something weird. He couldn’t feel it at all. From the incredulous, amused expression that Snowy was giving him over Kent’s shoulder, he was pretty confident that he was making an ass of himself.

 “I’m Kent Parson, I run this program,” the man said, reaching out to take Alexei’s hand. “We’re really glad you guys came today.”

 “…Yes,” Alexei said, knowing that he sounded like an idiot. Luckily Snowy stepped in to save him.

 “We’re really happy we could make it, man,” he said. “I’m sure it will be a great day.”

 Kent threw them both a beaming smile and Alexei felt himself die inside, just a little.

 “Right, listen up!” Kent clapped his hands and turned away, starting to give the kids instructions on the first drill. Snowy gave him a Look behind Kent’s back, and Alexei knew that he wasn’t get off easy. He was in for a lot of chirping later on, he was sure. All he could do was pray that Snowy hadn’t already said anything in the Falcs group message.

 The kids were divided up into groups of six to eight, by their ages, and split up to work on drills in separate areas. They would rotate after about twenty minutes. Alexei and Snowy were each given an area to be in charge of, mixed in with a bunch of volunteers. Kent seemed to be everywhere at once, making sure everything was going smoothly.

 At one point, he stepped in and demonstrated a stickhandling drill for Alexei’s group. He handled the puck like a dream. It didn’t even look like it touched the ice, he made it look so easy. Alexei would have been turned on if he wasn’t overcome with overwhelming existential despair.

 “You’re fucked,” Snowy mouthed at him gleefully, somehow having time to watch Alexei’s misfortunes while practicing butterflies with eight children.

 Alexei went to flip him off before remembering that there were children present. He settled for mouthing “fuck you” instead. Snowy just laughed.

 After the drills were finished and Alexei and Snowy had signed autographs and the kids were returned to their parents, Alexei noticed that Kent was skating around by himself, picking up stray pucks.

 Alexei took a deep breath and then grabbed the couple pucks on the ice near him and skated them over. He was a Mashkov, and Mashkovs weren’t cowards. Or at least that’s what his mom always said when she was talking about why she couldn’t end her decades-long feud with her neighbor.

 “Here,” Alexei managed, holding the pucks out awkwardly.

 Kent looked surprised, but started to smile and held out the bucket for Alexei to dump the pucks in.

 “Thanks, you didn’t have to do that.”

 “Is no problem.”

 There was an awkward silence as Alexei desperately tried to think of something to say.

 “You very good. Why not go to NHL?”

 Kent froze and Alexei immediately wished he had never even learned to speak in the first place. In fact, it was probably better if he didn’t even have a mouth.

 “Sorry! Sorry, didn’t mean—“

 “Nah, it’s okay.” Kent’s shoulders dropped and he sighed, skating over and grabbing another puck. “It wasn’t a big tragedy, it’s not like I got injured or anything. I was pretty good, and I probably could have been drafted, yeah, but then my dad skipped. And it was just my mom, and you know…hockey’s an expensive sport.”

 Alexei knew this well, his parents having worked harder than they had let him realize to pay for his equipment and rink fees. He remembered his mom sighing as she looked down at his chest protector and complaining that he had grown again. He knew now that it hadn’t been easy for them. But still, Alexei had always had what he needed, and he had never had to worry about not being able to play. “Sorry,” he said, feeling pathetic that it was all he could come up with.

 “It’s okay. I have this program, right? I started it to maybe help some other kids who want to play and can’t afford it, and honestly, I don’t regret not going pro. I really love it, you know?”

 Kent wasn’t looking at him, now, and was just smiling softly down at a puck in his hand. Alexei felt his heart leap in his chest.

 “Yes,” he rasped. Oh, he was so fucked.

 “Are you single?” he heard his mouth ask without any input from his brain, and almost choked.

 Kent looked up at him, confused. “What?”

 “Ummm.” Alexei felt like dying, but it was too late now. The only way out was through. “Can I take you out sometime?” he asked all in one rush.

 Kent was silent for a long, terrible moment, pretty mouth hanging open. “Like, on a date?” he asked.

 Alexei nodded, so red he was probably steaming in the cold rink air.

 “Yeah, okay.” Kent kind of had a disbelieving smile on his face as he shook his head and took out his phone. “What’s your number?”

Alexei froze for a second in disbelief, before realizing that he actually wasn’t hallucinating. He managed to get his whole number out without stuttering or forgetting English, and to say he looked forward to it at least somewhat smoothly.

 When he skated back to the bench triumphantly, Snowy, who had clearly watched the whole thing, surprisingly didn’t mock him at all. He just held out his fist for a fist bump. Alexei ignored it and crashed into him like it was a celly on the ice, and when he heard Kent laugh behind him he wasn’t even a little bit embarrassed.