#i completely butcher his character in my head (i like having happy endings) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aftgficrec · 1 year ago

Note

Fics where Neil gets in a fight and actually wins!! I know it’s more commonly said that he can start fights and not finish them but let’s be for real, the boy was raised by two mafias and is scary as hell (I think i’ve seen someone ask this a while ago but i’m not sure if there’s an updated list) Mainly wondering for like post-canon fics, but au’s are cool too!

There’s quite a bit to discover on this topic, be that AU or in the context of canon. Of course, Neil rarely comes out of these troubles unscathed, but he wouldn’t be Neil if there wasn’t also a little martyrdom involved. You might find more on this under our bamf!Neil, butcher!Neil and occasionally raven!Neil tags. Have a browse, and see if there’s anything you like. - S

Some previous recommendations:

BAMF!Neil here

BAMF!Neil 2 here

BAMF!Neil 3 here

BAMf!Andreil w/happy ending here

badass Neil here

Neil fights and wins here

A dark Neil here

Neil says it's fine i've had worse here

Neil protects Katelyn/the foxes/Andrew here

Foxes find out Neil's not soft here (see list of recs at top of post)

Neil hurts/kills in front of foxes here

new BAMF! or Raven!Neil here

dark!Neil & Andrew here

bad boy Neil here

Neil Josten: Moriyama spy here

Neil kills Nathan here

Killing Eve AU here

‘Skin Comes Apart (Angel in Lothian)’ here

‘Bound for Error’ here

‘turn out the lights’ here (completed)

‘From Dungeons’ here

‘Whiskey Sour’ here

‘Negotiations’ and ‘The Butcher's Hello’ here (updated)

‘Shake my Tomb’ and ‘Appendages’ here

‘The Butcher’s Son’ here

‘it takes two (but you and i are one)’ here

‘monster (under my bed)’ here

post-canon (more or less):

Out for Blood by Aquared46 [Rated M, 27975 words, complete, 2023, locked]

"Neil’s first thought upon opening his eyes was that he was lucky to be in the trunk of a car instead of the back of a van. His second thought was that even if he survived this, Andrew might finally give into the temptation to kill him." AKA Neil is abducted and everyone has a bad time.

tw: kidnapping, tw: torture, tw: nightmares

born for this by dovegraye [Rated G, 1278 words, complete, 2023]

There are some parts of Nathaniel Abram Wesninski that Neil Abram Josten can’t ignore and refuses to play at trying anymore. This is one of them.

tw: violence

My Lover Writes Me Letters by AceSirenSinger [Rated M, 23018 words, complete, 2023]

He feels it again – the fury, of Neil’s taunting precision, of his expertise honed specifically for Andrew. It makes Andrew furious. Andrew has not felt anything since he woke up with his head on fire, in a room with a man made of compressed violence. *** Andrew loses his memory of the last five years, and forgets Neil. Neil martyrs himself because of course he does.

**tw: threatened rape/noncon between major characters**, tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: blood/gore, tw: referenced animal cruelty and death, tw: vomit, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: murder, tw: implied disordered eating

five times neil beat the babygirl allegations, plus the one time he didn't by r3mus [Rated T, 7488 words, complete, 2023]

neil will NEVER beat the babygirl allegations in MY heart but, alas, he would probably punch me if i called him babygirl to his face.

tw: violence

Damnation by X0X0HauntedX0X0 [Rated M, 15572 words, incomplete, last updated Jan. 2022]

Unkind and ever familiar, that anger Lola had triggered earlier returned with sharp teeth and without mercy. He would rip his time from their hands by force, like he’d been doing every day since he was born. Lola was clever as the devil, but Neil had been raised through the loopholes. She couldn’t hurt his Foxes if she was dead. Or Neil is much more dangerous than anyone gives him credit for.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: torture, tw: blood/gore, tw: alcohol, tw: drugs

NB: fic art of post-torture Neil by @kazzyboy here

Maybe a Mobster by definitely_not_loki [Rated M, 1558 words, complete, 2022]

Neil Josten had transferred at the beginning of this season, and sure he'd been a nightmare for the team, but not in the "I was raised by a serial killer" kind of way. He was hard on the team—way harder than anyone had been before—and he wasn't even the captain. He was just some rookie striker from South Carolina. Most of the time she forgot he was anything but a rookie striker, but then someone would ask about his scars or call him a different name. Those were the few moments she remembered he wasn't just an asshole. He was an asshole with a past. So when The Event happened, she was terrified, horrified beyond all reason, but she was not surprised. Or, Neil is a badass motherfucker.

tw: violence, tw: blood

Neil has some bad habits. by evelynreads23 [Not Rated, 1068 words, complete, 2022]

Neil learnt things when he was young, how to wield a knife, how to hide a body. He was doing good and not thinking about it until someone was telling him he was a fan of the butcher. He was in a haze afterwards and freaked when Jack was being an asshole. This is Neil going to his roots but staying Neil, protecting Andrew and the foxes and not having fun when his past is brought up. Read at your own risk! :)

tw: violence, tw: blood, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: homophobia, tw: panic attacks

Dart Boards and Knife Fights by clumsylittlewriter [Rated T, 2983 words, complete, 2022]

"As if in sync, both of them dropped down into fighting stances and tensed their muscles. 'I apologize in advance if I end up killing you,' Nathaniel said, his voice dangerously quiet. Natalie threw her head back and released a sharp peal of laughter, more malicious than anything Andrew had ever heard from her. 'Don’t get cocky, Butcher-boy,' she taunted, her eyes glittering with vicious glee. The Butcher’s smile reappeared on his partner’s face." (a game of darts reminds Andrew that Neil was raised by someone fascinated with knives)

All the masks I've left behind by SagaEllen [Rated T, 1879 words, complete, 2021]

Neil does not cry. Aaron asks for help. And everything is such a mess.

tw: knives, tw: violence

all for his foxes by Olympyas [Not Rated, 2469 words, complete, 2021]

If he wanted to defend his family Neil wouldn't be enough, but someone else would, just this time, just for them. This is how Nathaniel opened the door and managed to stop the knife threw at him. And that was familiar, It even became a reflex by now. They taught him. Lola taught him in a way he wouldn't be able to forget. Lola and Romero come for Neil directly at Palmetto and Neil defends his family.

tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: blood, tw: knives

AU:

Dead Ringer by HalloweenReaper [Rated E, 18892 words, incomplete, last updated Nov. 2023]

“Potential.” Riko slammed Neil against the wall again and whirled on Kevin. Kevin stared back at him, white-faced and tense. “You said that goalkeeper had potential and then wrote him off as useless when I offered him to you....” - The Foxhole Court, Ch. 13. Nathaniel was given to Ichirou as his private hitman after his skills as a marksman were revealed when the Moriyama tracked him and his mother down after they ran away. Riko decided to surprise Kevin with matching “pets” after he found out the goalkeeper Kevin was interested in had a twin. When Nathaniel is ordered to join the Ravens for a year to cover for a series of hits, his smart mouth meets Andrew’s prickly attitude and things get interesting.

tw: abuse, tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: animal abuse, tw: panic attacks

Different Roads by frankelled [Rated T, 33944 words, incomplete, last updated Oct. 2023]

Nathaniel became Ichirou's 2nd when he was 10 years old. To protect Nathaniel from becoming a target no one can know, which leaves him in the Nest. When Kevin's hand breaks Nathaniel is in charge of protecting him from Riko, but now in Palmetto

tw: violence, tw: injuries, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: panic attacks

Andrew's Regret by pandaseek [Not Rated, 13860 words, incomplete, last updated Oct. 2023]

“The first three were all former foster parents of Andrew.” Piggins continued, unable to take a hint from the frosty office he’d admitted these things too. “No.” Aaron panicked, staring at Andrew in disbelief. “Andrew has never been…!” Wymack shifted his weight on the filing cabinet, reaching down to grab his trash can and passing it across Andrew in time for Aaron to grab it and spew a cascade of vile liquid into it, while Andrew pushed his chair onto its back legs and avoided all eye contact with those in the cramped office. Andrew knew who did this. The only person who had ever willingly gone to bat for him. A person he had mistakenly believed to be dead long ago; this was proof to the contrary. Except… Except that there was one name missing. - A prompt from Justthislazy, based on my original Lifeline, that I just had to pick up and run with. Thank you for the amazing idea!

tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: implied/referenced csa

Promise, I Can Give You a Reason by maydaykevin [Rated T, 1689 words, complete, 2023]

Something else happens in the fated Millport locker room.

tw: violence

I'm An Accountant by boomba77 [Not Rated, 24101 words, incomplete, last updated Oct. 2023]

Abram Hatford is an accountant. A legitimate accountant. He may work for an infamous crime family, but his hands have been clean for years (of blood, at least). He is a translator and an accountant. He flies under the radar, his existence hidden from the public by his family, and he prefers it that way. For him, the words ‘safe’ and ‘unknown’ are synonymous. So, when one of the Hatford empire’s more lucrative businesses begins stirring up the wrong kind of attention and losing money as a result, the Hatfords require discretion and brains. Their elusive Abram is the only person for the job. Andrew Minyard is a part-time server at a random diner and a part-time bartender at The Den, where he spends most of his time drinking what he’s supposed to be serving. It isn’t until strange things start happening around the club that Andrew decides to pay a bit more attention to the shady shit going on at his work. And then, when a stranger shows up looking for work with a perfect resume and a symmetrical face, Andrew finds his suspicion, and his interest, double. All of the death and destruction is bad, sure, but at least it’s interesting. OR Waiting for death is not living.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: dissociation, tw: nightmares, tw: panic attacks, tw: scars

Rheostat by NeilfuckingJosten [Rated M, 14315 words, incomplete, last updated Aug 2023]

Nathaniel Wesninski, alias Neil Josten is finally out of the Nest and into the world of professional exy. Deadly, smart and worse than his father, Nathaniel will bring a storm into Andrew's quiet world. AKA, they meet in the pro's.

tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced abuse

I Was Ruined From The Start by BrokenPineTree [Rated M, 39021 words, incomplete, last updated April 2023]

Neil’s grin is audible as he replies. "Riko’s antics getting outed to the public would make him a liability. And I do remember telling you that threats need to be dealt with accordingly." Kevin's stomach lurches into his throat with the conclusions he jumps to. "So, you’re gonna go back to the Nest?" He asks quietly. Slowly. Unsure how to feel about Neil putting himself in that situation again. He can't do that, right? He has other things to worry about now. Neil hums disapprovingly. "Try again," He offers. Kevin does. "You're... coming to Palmetto?" The au where Kevin doesn't have full confidence in Andrew's ability to stand between him and his lurking demons after only spending a few months at Palmetto. But with the dangerous card itching to emerge from under his sleeve, does he really need to?

tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: nonconsensual drug use, tw: panic attacks

True Crime by mostly_maudlin [Rated T, 1789 words, complete, 2022]

All Andrew needed was the WiFi password.

tumblr posts:

Neil Does Not Like when people mess with his people. by @hmmm-shesucks [tumblr, 2023]

Whenever any of the foxes are slightly inconvenienced by someone enough to complain about them, Neil always asks, “Do you want me to take care of it?”

tw: implied/referenced violence

Neil gets in a fight by @hmmm-shesucks [tumblr, 2023]

Neil gets in a fight on the court and it’s one of those where gloves are dropped and helmets are thrown and the punches are quick and hard.

tw: blood, tw: violence

Neil is dangerous and Aaron knows it hc by @thefoxholestuff [tumblr, 2021]

I love the idea of Neil being the really dangerous one rather than Andrew and the Foxes all being Shook and Andrew being a gay disaster over it

Part 2 - an expansion

here’s an expansion of my Neil-is-dangerous-and-Aaron-knows-it post,

one night the foxes are at edens and some guy starts to harass Andrew hc by @zipperuser103 [tumblr, 2021]

I know that Neil “starts fights that he can’t finish”, but I refuse to believe that he has no fighting skills at all.

tw: violence

Art

bamf!Neil by @emry-stars-art

(Feat. BAMF? Assassin? Secret Agent? Neil) by @baylecn

Good boy, junior by @jayjuls

Killer In The Mirror by @allfortheslay25

Killing Eve AU by @rainbowd00dles

Wesninski looks good on you by @ouijacine

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thestupidhelmet · 6 months ago

Text

Spoiler-Free Post-T9S Part 2 Binge Post

I watched all eight episodes in one sitting. I have conflicting thoughts and conflicting feelings about T9S Part 2.

I hold the perspectives of:

Watching it as a show completely unrelated to T7S.

Watching it as a sequel to (or continuation of) T7S.

Watching as a fan.

Watching as an author.

I think and feel multiple ways about the same elements from these points of view. I also think and feel multiple ways about different elements from one or more of my perspectives.

I laughed out loud quite a bit.

I enjoyed and was satisfied by aspects of Part 2. I also felt angry or disappointed about other aspects.

I wrote after watching Part 1 that I care about the new characters but don't feel a deeper emotional connection to them. Interestingly, I feel even less emotionally connected to some of the new characters and more to others, but I'm overall invested in their character arcs and what will happen next.

I understand why.

I don't identify with -- or find myself in -- these characters and their struggles. That's a me thing. I do, however, find myself and experiences reflected by Eric, Donna, Jackie, Hyde, Fez, and Kelso -- their personalities, their inner and outer conflicts.

That being said, I have enjoyed and continue to enjoy plenty of shows where I don't see any of myself reflected. It's not a requirement. 😂

But because:

T7S is such a personal show for me

T7S's last season was completely mishandled (butchered)

Real-world events guaranteed T9S would be an AU from T7S canon and create its own canon

T9S's head writer, brought in from T7S, used Wikipedia as his research to help create T9S (rather than, say, rewatching T7S) -- he didn't do proper research like a good author would to write a novel, a good actor does to play certain roles. The lack of care is evident, just as it became evident in T7S at the end of season 5

That '90s Show didn't have a chance to be emotionally fulfilling for me, on the whole, as a continuation of That '70s Show.

T9S has plenty of charms, though. And plenty to critique. Just like T7S.

I totally get why a segment of T7S fans is very happy with T9S -- and accept it as a continuation of T7S. I also understand why a segment of T7S fans feel and think the opposite way. And then there are fans for whom T9S is the core show while T7S is its prequel.

For me, T9S continues to be a fanfic onscreen, one I like enough to keep watching.

For my friends (and others) who enjoy the show, I won't write a meta-critique. But I will answer asks people send in and give my analysis/opinion (I've got one in the hopper already).

I believe people should be able to watch whatever sitcom they want without being shat on for it (for any reason). Freedom of choice. Freedom from judgment. My hope is that others who deem the show should not be watched (for whatever reason) never forget the humanity of the people who are watching it. ♥️

#that 70s show #that '70s show #that '90s show #that 90s show #leia forman #meta #essay #my meta #my essay

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braveclementine · 7 months ago

Text

Chapter 15

Warnings: None

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own my OC: Elizabeth Y/L/N (created so you don't get Y/N and Y/S/N consistently mixed up. I do not condone any copying of this.

"SO YOU LIKE TO SWIM?" SAM ASKED EXCITEDLY as the elevator headed down.

"A lot. We have a pond on the farm that Y/N and I swam in when we were young." Elizabeth explained. "Swimming was one of those things our parents were adamant we learned. Along with shooting, of course."

"You can shoot?" Tony asked in surprise. "Even Y/N?"

"Yeah. She hates it though." Elizabeth responded. "She's good at it, she can do it if she had to, but the idea of killing animals even for food or just holding a gun in general makes her uncomfortable. I guess I can't blame her."

"You shoot the animals on the farm?" Sam asked in confusion.

"Oh, no." Elizabeth said, shaking her head. "But sometimes we go duck hunting or deer shooting. Or we'll go out to the stream in the woods and find turtle eggs. Not all of the animals on our farm are for food. Some of the pigs, chickens, and cows. But for the most part, our cows are for milk and the chickens are for eggs."

"Do you kill them, you know, when you do butcher an animal?" Sam asked. He was finding himself more and more fascinated about the idea of the farm. He had grown up on the lake, fishing had been the business. So he knew all about killing animals for food.

"I know how to do it, but as of right now, our father is the one who actually kills the animals and separates- Sorry, not everyone has the stomach for hearing about the entire process." Elizabeth cut herself off quickly.

"Y/N doesn't talk about the farm a lot." Sam mentioned as the elevator door. At some point, he had slipped his hand into Elizabeth's though she couldn't remember when. His hands were huge and warm, heating her freezing fingers.

Tony strode ahead of them. He had some sort of fidget toy in his hand, rolling it between his fingers.

"I don't think she was ever happy there." Elizabeth said quietly. "Even as a kid she had huge ambitions of coming to the city and making it big. As a model or an artist or a singer. You should hear her sing, she's amazing."

"But you love the farm." Sam finished.

"I really do. The city. . . it's so loud and. . ." Elizabeth went silent, remembering how she'd felt when she'd been walking around the city. It was so big, but the skyscrapers stretched over head, the streets clogged with cars and the sidewalks packed with people. She'd had to duck into an overhanging as the claustrophobia threatened to overwhelm her.

How was it that a place so big felt so small?

"Here we are." Tony said, throwing the door open to the pool. Elizabeth did a double take.

She'd heard of water parks of course, indoor ones at a hotel. But this. . .

"Wow." She whispered, comforted by the smell of chlorine and the colour of the water.

There were wave pools, hot springs, hot tubs, what looked like a thousand slides and even some sort of set up that had huge swings to jump off of to land in a deep pit of water. It had areas where if you swam under objects you ended up outside. There were diving boards and swimming lanes and even a rock wall in the water to climb up and jump off when you got to the top.

"How. . ." Elizabeth was at a loss of words and Tony felt pleased with the excitement and amazement on her face. Elizabeth spun to look at him. "Tony! This is amazing!"

"Glad you like it sweetheart." Tony drawled. "It's usually a little busier in the spring and winter. We don't have as many missions over the winter. I guess bad guys hate fighting in the cold too. Anyways, it's open to anyone who lives or works here but F.R.I.D.A.Y. has scans anyways. But you can come whenever. Even midnight, just don't drown."

Elizabeth laughed. "Maybe later. I don't think I packed a swimsuit or anything. I guess that'll be something I buy with Nat. I think?"

"Just buy what you want. Ignore Nat completely." Sam advised her. "Besides, I like the cowgirl getup."

Elizabeth blushed, looking away.

"Anyways," Sam continued, pleased with his ability to make her blush. "How about the two of us go up to the training room. I'd like to see you shoot."

"You have a rifle?" Elizabeth asked skeptically. "Or a handgun?"

Sam grinned wickedly. "Both."

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

"OH." BUCKY LOOKED RATHER UNCOMFORTABLE with where the conversation was going. He sighed as he opened up the refrigerator, blinking at the fullness of the fridge. He reached inside to grab some of the plums that were in there.

"What's oh?" You asked, trying to make sure you didn't sound angry. "I mean, if you don't like her-"

"It's not that." Bucky said quickly. "I just. . ."

You waited, tracing invisible patterns on the table as you waited for him to speak.

Bucky sighed. "I just don't know how to be around her. And Steve-"

"What?" You asked, taken aback. "Bucky, you can just be yourself. Trust me, Elizabeth is the last person on Earth to judge you for being yourself. I'm more likely to judge you and I don't."

Bucky was fidgeting badly now. The plums were cut up now in a small bowl, but Bucky wasn't eating them. He ran his tongue over his teeth, you could see the bulge in his upper lip. He didn't look at you.

"Look, Bucky." You said quietly, softly, almost a whisper. "Elizabeth won't judge, but she is sensitive. She'll work up all sorts of ideas in her mind. Either reject her or accept her, and she'll be fine either way. But if you keep doing neither, she's not going to know what to do. And as much as I love both you and Steve, as much as I don't care which one you do. Reject her, accept her, that's your choice. But she is my sister and I don't need you leading her on if you're going to reject her. Or making her think you're going to reject her when you accept her. Okay?"

You got up, touching his shoulder and giving it a comforting squeeze before you headed out to the living room. Tony had just come back.

"Where's Elizabeth?" You asked.

"Where's Sam?" Steve asked.

Bucky trailed back into the room with his bowl of cut up plums.

"Oh they went up to the training room to shoot guns." Tony said carelessly. You rolled your eyes. Tony looked at you. "I heard you can sing, pose, and draw."

You flushed horribly. "Let me guess, she told you?"

"Yep." Tony said delightedly. "Well, more to Sam than me. But it was in the general concession. But that's besides the point. Is it true?"

"I suppose." You said with a shrug. "But everyone's idea of a good singer or a good artist is the perception of the person listening or viewing."

"What sort of drawing?" Steve asked eagerly, turning his full attention to you. His blue eyes were lit up and you smiled, feeling yourself being drawn in with his infectious aurora.

"A little of everything." You admitted, sitting down next to him. "I can use just about anything. Pencils, crayons, gel pens, markers, clay, watercolour, oil, canvas, just depends on what I feel like making and my inspiration. Do you draw?"

"A little bit." Steve said, colouring suddenly.

"Oh don't be modest." Clint rolled his eyes. "He's amazing. We rarely see any of his art, he keeps it up in his private studio, but when we do get to see a piece, it's amazing."

"You keep them locked up?" You asked in surprise.

"Tony keeps trying to sell them for me." Steve admitted while Stephen chuckled lightly. "But I'd rather my art be sold because people like it rather than because Captain America was the one whose hand went to it."

"Oh, but why don't you just sell under anonymous?" You asked.

"You can do that?" Steve asked in surprise.

"Sure. Or make up a fake name." You said. "I mean, I'm sure it can't be that difficult to come up with another name to put on the art piece. But you don't have to let anyone know its yours."

Steve looked deep in thought about it.

"Of course, you don't have to sell them period." You continued, sticking your tongue out at Tony. He mimicked you with a grin. "I just like seeing all the opportunities to make money."

"Don't worry N/N." Tony said with a grin. "You don't have to worry about money anymore." [Nickname based on your hair. Like orange/red hair= pumpkin, etc.]

Your insides fluttered at the nickname and then you looked around. "Where is Thor?"

"What, not good enough for you?" Clint asked, gesturing to himself.

"Actually, all three of the Asgardians are gone." Nat pointed out.

"I have no idea where they went." Stephen said with a shrug.

"They joined Miss Y/L/N and Mr. Wilson in shooting." F.R.I.D.A.Y. said from the ceiling. "Mr. Laufeyson is teaching Miss Y/L/N how to throw knives. Mr. Odinson and Mr. Irison are battling with swords. Mr. Wilson is recording it."

"Well, it sounds like something I should join." Natasha said, standing up and striding towards the elevator. Clint hopped up to follow after her, snagging his bow off the back of a chair.

"Well, I think I'm going to go on up to my room and relax." You muttered. "No knife throwing for me."

"I'll join you." Steve said, eyes lighting up.

"Actually, Bucky needs to talk to you." You said lightly. "But you can join me after you're done with the conversation."

Bucky shot you a sour look for putting the question on him, but you headed over to the elevator and let it take you upstairs.

You loved your bedroom.

The original floor had been tile, with huge floor to ceiling windows. It had been mostly bare when you'd gotten the room and Tony had quickly outfitted it to your tastes. One of the windows even opened up as double doors onto a large balcony outside of your room.

Now, you had thrown down several carpets, hung turquoise and golden drapes everywhere, and Tony had helped put in a huge bed that could fit up to at least four people. The rest of the furniture was a creamy white that matched the rest of the furniture and consisted of two bedside tables, one on either side of the bed; a desk where you had set up a new laptop, stacks of paper, art pads, and miscellaneous utensil; a huge wardrobe with clothes; and even the minifridge matched colour wise.

There was a small bookcase with some of your favorite Mangas and a couple of novels and comic books, but not as large as Elizabeth's might have been.

You grabbed your top favorite Manga and hopped onto the bed, staring up at the golden chandelier on the ceiling.

You hummed in content. Everything about your life right now made you feel like you were a princess. And it was your favorite feeling in the world.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

ELIZABETH'S BODY WAS AS TENSE AS A LIVE wire and she could barely concentrate on Loki's words. Her heart was beating heavily in her chest. Loki had decided to teach her how to throw a knife, saying it could come in handy.

She had agreed to learn but had not expected such a personal way of teaching. He was standing behind her, almost a whole foot taller than her. Her right hand was raised, the knife handle gripped firmly in her grasp. Loki was holding her hand in his as well, moving her arm with his in the motions. His other hand was placed on her left hip, his feet nudging hers apart for the proper stance. She could feel his hard chest pressed against her back.

Her mind was racing. Was this simply the way he was teaching or was he trying to make a move on her? And if he was making a move on her, why? He was mated to her sister, he was mated to Y/N. He couldn't be with her.

Well. . . he could if he wanted to. Elizabeth mused. After all, he could reject the soulmate bond between the two of you and then ask Elizabeth to be his. But she wouldn't accept if he did that. She wouldn't hurt Y/N that way.

"Now." Loki said, stepping back, taking his warmth with him and Elizabeth almost shivered as the sudden cool that warped her body. "Go ahead and throw it."

Elizabeth threw the blade the way that he had suggested and it struck the board, though it did not stick for more than a second before falling to the floor.

"No worries." Loki said calmly, producing another knife out of thin air. "If it had been a person, it would have sunk in. Unless they were wearing armor of course."

Elizabeth looked at him. "Why would I need to know how to kill a person?"

Loki smiled wryly. "We're the Avengers kitten. You and your sister are the newest and also the most vulnerable way to get to us. Learning to defend yourself is the best thing you can do. And pray that you never have to actually use your skills."

"Loki, can you help me?" Hogun called out, laughing as he attempted to disarm Thor.

Loki gave Elizabeth a little bow, handing her the knife. "You can keep it. The other one make a matching set." And then he strode away.

Elizabeth looked down at the knife. It was clean, well balanced in her hand. The blade was silver and the handle was black, encrusted with ice blue gems. There were Norse Runes carved into the blade and though she knew a couple of letters, she couldn't read the entire name.

She thought of her older sister, how she seemed to roam the city without care, laughing and free.

She thought of how her sister had come running into the farm house, screaming for their father because the coyotes had come for the sheep. Her father hadn't been home though and Elizabeth had been the one to grab the shotgun off the mantle above the fireplace and stuck a stick into the fire.

She'd run out to the farm, racing towards the sheep, tossing the stick into the clean firepit first and raised the shotgun. Two shots and the coyotes were gone but one, which had died upon impact of the first bullet.

"Clean shots." Her father had said when he'd come home. "Thank you for protecting your sister."

Elizabeth twirled the blade in her fingers, the gems feelings smooth and cool against the pads of her fingers, and then threw it as hard as possible at the board.

This time, it stuck, quivering in the middle of the board.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

"Y/N BROUGHT THIS CONVERSATION UP?" Steve asked in surprise as he and Bucky talked in the kitchen once more. "Elizabeth didn't make her talk to you or anything? Elizabeth didn't saying anything to yo-"

"She hasn't spoken a word to me since she's been here." Bucky said. "You know that. I've been with you and Y/N the entire time. Steve I don't think I can do-"

"You don't have to ignore her Buck." Steve said softly, pulling out the chocolate from the cupboards. Milk chocolate was Bucky's favorite, especially if there was a little salt. Steve preferred dark chocolate, or maybe even that bit with the orange in it.

Bucky stayed silent, watching Steve as he passed the chocolate over. Bucky picked it up silently. "What are you going to do?"

Steve shrugged. "I just wanted to give Sam his spotlight. We both know he's been waiting forever to meet her and he still hasn't left her side. I just don't want to interrupt them. I'll introduce myself more properly either tonight or tomorrow. But you should be able to do it sooner if you'd like. You know you don't have to accept her if you don't want to."

"It's not that." Bucky said, shaking his head. "Besides, I couldn't reject her. Sam-"

"You can't make love decisions based on me or Sam, Buck." Steve said softly, but sternly, looking into Bucky's eyes. "Sam might be disappointed, but he'll understand. I'll understand. And if I were to decide to reject her, I'd hope you understand with me as well. We made a promise Buck. And I'm not reminding you of that to guilt trip you. I'm just reminding you of that promise so you know I won't be disappointed in whatever choice you make."

Steve walked past him, kissing him on the top of the head and then headed back out to the living room. Bucky wondered if he planned on joining Y/N in her room or stay in the living room with the others.

How had a question from Y/N to Steve end up being about him?

He sighed, licking his bottom lip to make sure all the excess chocolate was gone.

What had F.R.I.D.A.Y. said? That they were in the training room?

He stood up, moving out of the kitchen. Steve had said he could introduce himself whenever he wanted. Well, now was that time.

⬅️➡️

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roamingtigress · 1 year ago

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The Merry Misadventures of Hosea and The Mustached Idiot

Chapter One -

The Matthews Mattress

I feel the warmth of the morning sun on my face, and a heavy feeling blanketing, weighting down my form. I sigh. There's some 6'1 tall idiot with a mustache and a silly soul patch lying on top of me, wrapping a strong arm around me, the other draped off the bed. There was a pair of long legs sprawled out over the edge of the bed, which was only made for one, but Mustached Idiot here -- all 185 pounds of him -- decided that was only a suggestion.

But he's MY Mustached Idiot. Brilliant and stupid and frustrating and a pain in the ass all at the same time; Dutch can read the direction from the sky, but can't or won't follow a line on a map, but someone has to look after him. And we love each other, oh so much, bickering and all like the old couple that we are. Some fellow, Reverend Joe Swanson, got us married. And ol' Dutch isn't half bad to look at, either. When he shuts up, he can say a lot with his face when it isn't in a book, or doing some odd job that I get myself into now and then with him. Sometimes Arthur, and sometimes John with some convincing comes along (John always fights with Dutch over the issue of direction and Dutch is convinced he's heading in the right direction and that John simply can't be correct because that's not what the moon is telling him). Occasionally Sadie and Sean come along on our bounty missions or even on just a trail ride, and there's always some sort of chaos that erupts; a bounty usually dies, and a wild animal completely redirects us off course, particularly wolves; I don't know what it is, but the wolves come out of the woodwork when that man is out and about.

On that subject of books, Dutch and I have a nightly routine where we would get a book and read a chapter of it before bedtime . . . Something we've been doing since we first dated all those years ago. Sometimes we don't get sleep well into the night because sometimes we stop and end up discussing whatever is happening in the chapter.

"Dutch, I need to breathe -- "

I hear some clanking around. A somewhat, heavyset, tall fellow (even taller than the human blanket on top of me), well dressed considering his occupation working with tanning fluids, with a grey beard, half talking to himself about someone named Maggie Fike, half talking to me because he heard my sigh. The gentleman, none other than J.B Cripps. We agreed on a business deal with him; for a campsite that he'd move around here and there, we could have a good steady cash flow involving the sale of furs, feathers and hides. Cripps is . . . An interesting fellow with some strange stories to tell. One involved him being an acrobat in Portugal. Another involved a failed bank job in Tennessee with someone named Phil the Crab and Limpy Pete. Cripps doesn't care much for dogs, though. Poor Matilda! What a lovely Labrador she is, with her shiny black coat, always happy nature. She does her best.

The coffee he was brewing smelled good though and the smell of bacon and eggs was wafting in the air. The food came from the stockyard in Valentine in some high-risk, high-reward job that actually worked according to, er, plan. The pigs that he killed in the middle of the night were located right behind the police station; whom he also collects bounties for. What he hadn't used were sold to the butcher who took the remains without question. Nobody said that Dutch isn't a complex character. I accompanied him because adult supervision is required from time to time, and I needed to get a cold drink for a change.

Dutch still hasn't stirred too much from his sleep and he's making some sort of odd sound of contentment; something of a mew, something of a growl. He has a stupid crooked smile on his face as he uses my chest as a pillow and I don't have the heart to wake him; he looks at once ridiculous and gorgeous. I gently petted his cheek, a little rough from a day's missed shave. We went on a long-distance delivery from Cumberland Forest to Blackwater, and when he came home he had only a few hours of rest before the stockyard raid, giving him very little time for a shave, which is more than just a quick chore, it was a venture. He normally slept in his Union suit but the business of slaughtering pigs in rain-soaked slop is a messy business and he hadn't wanted to come to bed smelling like muck and shit, so he stripped himself down after a quick dip in the river, and put on some pants he used for some chores; nothing he'd wear out into town, but did its job. Sleeping in the nude is something he's also not above doing, but it was a bit nippy for that tonight and as he's gotten older the cold is something we've both grown more intolerant to.

I want to breathe and feel circulation in my body again, but . . . I still don't have the heart to wake him just yet. I want to just admire him for a moment longer. I traced a finger around that wonderful Roman nose of his, and after he let his arm slip off of me, which helped me move a bit, and then move my finger along the shape his mustache and that soulpatch. I run a hand through his lovely hair of his up a bit. I've long been a fan of how his hair looks in the morning before he puts on the pomade. Satisfied with my work, I slid my hand over a shoulder and down his back, which had been aching a bit after that long delivery run. Judy is a lovely Suffolk Punch mare -- under the saddle -- but a bitch in the hitch and will take the bit and run with it, and his poor back was suffering from it. I lean in and kiss his forehead, and just lightly, work a light massage into his lower back. There was a particularly nasty knot there and I worked on it with gradually firming touch. I felt the muscle twitching underneath my touch and then, subside.

I hear Cripps moving about still, doing odd jobs. Matilda barked at something, and Dynformer, that fine Thoroughbred stallion, snorted, and pawed at the dirt, eager to get the day started. Usually, he would be going out for a ride about now but someone decided to sleep in (or rather sleep on).

"I don't want to interrupt anythin', but breakfast is ready. I'll keep it warm over the fire."

It was a nice bonus to work with someone who had been accepting us as a couple; we didn't need to hide away when we camp; sure we could sneak out, and we still do for fun, but, that wasn't needed. You can say what you want to say about Cripps, but he even set up a nice little area for us a candle on a table for a romantic night setup by the cauldron, though we normally had our place at the bonfire. It was a nice thought and we have been there for reading while Cripps popped out in town.

My stomach nagged me. Breakfast did smell good. But I still had this Mustached Idiot on top of me. What am I to do?

Dutch's stupid smile widened as I traced my hand through his touseled hair again, and let a finger slip along his soft jawline; my other wasn't free just yet. Dutch was manipulating me in his sleep, just by being adorable. As I thought of a plan, I absentmindedly moved my hand down to his sensitive ribs. I didn't even realize I was doing it, but I was petting him like I do with Matilda and I felt him squirm under my touch, a happy sigh escaping from him. He was slowly waking; it was masterful manipulation, or so he likely thought, just so that he lay on me longer. But this wasn't my first rodeo and I had a trick up my sleeve, and my smirk that I had since I woke up, widened.

"Mmf!" Dutch squeaks out, initially trying to muffle it but it snuck out when I slipped a finger just under the hem of his pants, finding that sweet spot on his right hip, and he squirms. God, I love that waist of his, strangely serpentine, with a certain feminine quality to it. And I know it's one of his soft spots, particularly the right hip.

"Waking up are we, babygirl?" I grin, and then sigh again as he simply turns over onto me like I'm a fucking mattress. What did I get myself into?

Dutch let out a low whimpering growl, his head tilted back. Purring, he was fucking purring! "Mrr . . . " That stupid smile just grew.

"I know you're awake, Duchess."

I caught the glimpse of an eye fluttering open as I snaked a hand towards his belly, another sensitive spot. My other hand is rested over his heart and I feel him lightly placing his hand over mine, and then taking it, lightly, so lightly just kissing it. It was a silent 'I love you'; a nice little morning routine before whatever lays ahead for us for that day.

"How long have you been awake?" I tap that nose of his.

I refuse to touch him again until I get an answer, but that sonofabitch arches his back and presses his midriff into my hands, and I dance them away again. He pouts and gives me puppy dog eyes as he flops back down on me again, but those eyes are smiling. I do love seeing this playful side of him; it reminds me of the old days so much. And with that, I feel younger.

"Oh . . . About an hour." The twinkle in his eyes showed in his voice.

I give him a slap on the belly; there's a tiny bit of a thud, and he lets out this wheezy chortle. There's a chance we'll likely get in finer shape (there's a tinge of softness on both in both of us old dads but looking pretty damn good, mind) soon enough with all that we've signed up for.

"You shit -- "

Dutch just laughs, placing a hand over my other hand that's over his heart, he gives it a light squeeze. A sort of squeeze that he'd do to pacify me whenever I got upset in a silent plea to not be angry; he knows I'm not upset, but he plays the part, and I play along.

"You was pettin' me, 'sea -- " He answers coyly, and repositioned himself slightly; no, not for my comfort, but so that he can kiss me on the neck as he does to get out of trouble, even in our arguments when he wants to get back on my good graces.

Dutch got one over me! The boy needs to be put in his place! "You -- " I break from my stern expression though and I just laugh, lightly tickling him; as per usual he tries not to laugh and tries to stay stoic, but, it sneaks out. I take delight in that laugh, feeling him squirming under my touch. I slow my fingers down to a gentle stroke and then, with my free hand, I hold him tight, and I bury my face into that lovely, tousled hair.

"I think I love you . . ." Dutch murmured as he moves up into my touch, and in return, he kisses me, touching me, wherever he can. I realize I'm not helping my situation and only encouraging him.

"I think I love you too, you know . . . " I smile. And that smartass side of his sneaks out.

"Someone's got to."

I kiss that idiot, and for that moment, I don't want him to get up. We'll eventually get up and have our breakfast; Matilda is getting a little needy, but for just a few or more minutes, he'll remain in my arms.

"You got me that time, but there will be another."

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr2 fanfic #vandermatthews #hosea matthews #dutch van der linde #jb cripps #cripps

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apparitional-lesbian · 4 months ago

Text

In my Daenerys = Citizen Kane interpretation of her character arc, I believe the house with the red door is her Rosebud, a symbol of her childhood innocence that she can never regain. So, the Undying could be mocking her by saying that she can never return home/return to innocence.

Shadows whirled and danced inside a tent, boneless and terrible. A little girl ran barefoot toward a big house with a red door. Mirri Maz Duur shrieked in the flames, a dragon bursting from her brow.

GRRM arranges the sentences so the "big house with a red door" (Childhood-Innocence-Home) is sandwiched between Mirri Maz Duur's ritual (itself the result of Dany's willingness to sacrifice another person's life to save Drogo's) (Sacrifice-Shadows-Death) and Dany's own blood magic ritual to birth dragons (Sacrifice-Flames-Dragons). Dany lost whatever innocence she had left when she chose to murder Mirri Maz Duur to birth dragons. To quote Granny Weatherwax,

"Evil starts when you begin to treat people as things."

Dany chose to treat Mirri Maz Duur as a "thing to be used," a sacrifice. So, she is no longer an innocent.

Also, the dragons are to Dany as wealth is to Kane. Donald Trump, amazingly, astutely sums up the message of Citizen Kane: "You learn in 'Kane' maybe wealth isn't everything, because he had the wealth but he didn't have the happiness. In real life I believe that wealth does in fact isolate you from other people. It's a protective mechanism — you have your guard up much more so [than] if you didn't have wealth."

The dragons isolate Dany from other people. Quaithe warns her that she can trust no one because they all seek to possess her dragons. Further, her dragons are flame made flesh, capable of profound destruction, meaning that Dany must always be guard less they hurt someone, like the poor Shepherd's daughter in ADWD. As the "Mother of Dragons," Dany can never lose herself entirely, impairing her ability to freely relate to others. She must always be on guard against threats to her dragons and her dragons threat to others. Drogon also literally isolates Dany at the end of ADWD when he flies her up and away from Mereen. Thus, Dany's dragons isolate her in both a literal and metaphorical sense.

If we consider the remainder of the paragraph, the images Dany receives from the Undying are ones of simultaneous triumph and death:

Behind a silver horse the bloody corpse of a naked man bounced and dragged. A white lion ran through grass taller than a man. Beneath the Mother of Mountains, a line of naked crones crept from a great lake and knelt shivering before her, their grey heads bowed. Ten thousand slaves lifted bloodstained hands as she raced by on her silver, riding like the wind.

the wineseller: triumph over a would-be assassin => a) he's dead, and b) the attempted assassination provides Varys' spy (Jorah Mormant) his excuse to convince Dany of his loyalty

the lion: its skin protects her in the desert and symbolizes Drogo's devotion => Drogo killed the lion (the king of beasts)

the crones at Vaes Dothrak recognize Dany as "The Stallion That Mounts the World" (this one is super obvious, but for completion's sake) => Dany is hailed as the leader of the Dothraki / "The Stallion" is an unambiguous figure of violence and death and violation

the slaves hail Dany as "Mother" (again, very obvious) => Dany is worshipped by her supplicants, her so-called children (think God the Father vs Daenerys the Mother, freedom from sin vs freedom from slavery) / "bloodstained hands": obviously, the blood of the masters, but may also refer to the Butcher King of Astapor, and the lives lost to Dany's other failures to "break the wheel"

Therefore, the inclusion of "the red door" with images of death suggests that Dany's dreams of returning home, of a return to a state of innocence, are as dead as a door nail. Instead, she will be a conqueror, a figure of triumph and death.

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ACOK: Daenerys IV (Chapter 48)

First and foremost, let me credit @shieldofrohan and @agentrouka-blog for helping guiding me through this. A lot of what you'll read are their ideas, and I would have been hopelessly lost without them.

@shieldofrohan is planning her own chapter analysis, and I'll be sure to include it here when it's finished, because I guarantee it will far exceed my own effort. Edit: It's here, and it's fabulous. Bravo!

Second, let me point you all towards @ladyqueenofwinter's two brilliants posts on the chapter transition preceding this one: here & here. Looking forward to her thoughts on the actual chapter, which I'll include when it's finished. Edit: Delivered! And worth the wait. :)

Alright, here we go.

ACOK: Daenerys IV (Chapter 48)

Long and low, without towers or windows, it coiled like a stone serpent through a grove of black-barked trees whose inky blue leaves made the stuff of the sorcerous drink the Qartheen called shade of the evening.

Hey look! Black bark, blue leaves -> the inverse of a weirwood tree. Not to mention that shade of the evening sounds a lot like weirwood paste to me.

What does it mean? Shit, I don't know, but I definitely wouldn't want to be Bran Stark's foil.

+.+.+

"When you enter, you will find yourself in a room with four doors: the one you have come through and three others. Take the door to your right. Each time, the door to your right. If you should come upon a stairwell, climb. Never go down, and never take any door but the first door to your right."

(...)

Dany raised the glass to her lips. The first sip tasted like ink and spoiled meat, foul, but when she swallowed it seemed to come to life within her. She could feel tendrils spreading through her chest, like fingers of fire coiling around her heart, and on her tongue was a taste like honey and anise and cream, like mother's milk and Drogo's seed, like red meat and hot blood and molten gold.

(...)

When they reached the door—a tall oval mouth, set in a wall fashioned in the likeness of a human face—the smallest dwarf Dany had ever seen was waiting on the threshold.

(...)

She found herself in a stone anteroom with four doors, one on each wall. With never a hesitation, she went to the door on her right and stepped through. The second room was a twin to the first. Again she turned to the right-hand door. When she pushed it open she faced yet another small antechamber with four doors.

(...)

The fourth room was oval rather than square and walled in worm-eaten wood in place of stone. Six passages led out from it in place of four. Dany chose the rightmost, and entered a long, dim, high-ceilinged hall.

(...)

The mold-eaten carpet under her feet had once been gorgeously colored, and whorls of gold could still be seen in the fabric, glinting broken amidst the faded grey and mottled green. What remained served to muffle her footfalls, but that was not all to the good. Dany could hear sounds within the walls, a faint scurrying and scrabbling that made her think of rats.

(...)

The long hall went on and on and on, with endless doors to her left and only torches to her right. She ran past more doors than she could count, closed doors and open ones, doors of wood and doors of iron, carved doors and plain ones, doors with pulls and doors with locks and doors with knockers.

(...)

Finally a great pair of bronze doors appeared to her left, grander than the rest. They swung open as she neared, and she had to stop and look. Beyond loomed a cavernous stone hall, the largest she had ever seen.

(...)

Could there be a secret door, a door I cannot see? Another torch went out. Another. The first door on the right, he said, always the first door on the right. The first door on the right . . .

It came to her suddenly. . . . is the last door on the left!

She flung herself through. Beyond was another small room with four doors. To the right she went, and to the right, and to the right, and to the right, and to the right, and to the right, and to the right, until she was dizzy and out of breath once more.

(...)

When she stopped, she found herself in yet another dank stone chamber . . . but this time the door opposite was round, shaped like an open mouth, and Pyat Pree stood outside in the grass beneath the trees.

(...)

Dany left him behind, entering a stairwell. She began to climb.

(...)

Finally the stair opened. To her right, a set of wide wooden doors had been thrown open.

(...)

Beyond the doors was a great hall and a splendor of wizards.

(...)

Doubt seized her. The great door was so heavy it took all of Dany's strength to budge it, but finally it began to move. Behind was another door, hidden. It was old grey wood, splintery and plain . . . but it stood to the right of the door through which she'd entered. The wizards were beckoning her with voices sweeter than song. She ran from them, Drogon flying back down to her. Through the narrow door she passed, into a chamber awash in gloom.

(...)

Outside a long dim passageway stretched serpentine before her, lit by the flickering orange glare from behind. Dany ran, searching for a door, a door to her right, a door to her left, any door, but there was nothing, only twisty stone walls, and a floor that seemed to move slowly under her feet, writhing as if to trip her. She kept her feet and ran faster, and suddenly the door was there ahead of her, a door like an open mouth.

Before we get to the good stuff, let's talk about these passageways and doors. What's going on here, what the hell is happening? I searched far and wide for an answer, and the best interpretation I found is that it's the digestive tract.

@agentrouka-blog has talked a bit about George's use of scatology metaphors for bad rulership, and I like it. Anything that paints Daenerys as a piece of shit works for me.

I can't break this down any better than jonsas who have come before me, so I'll let @une-nuit-pour-se-souvenir explain further (original post).

+.+.+

Edit:

Dany could hear sounds within the walls, a faint scurrying and scrabbling that made her think of rats.

RATS! The rats! Drogon hates the sounds!

It all makes sense now!

+.+.+

In one room, a beautiful woman sprawled naked on the floor while four little men crawled over her. They had rattish pointed faces and tiny pink hands, like the servitor who had brought her the glass of shade. One was pumping between her thighs. Another savaged her breasts, worrying at the nipples with his wet red mouth, tearing and chewing.

Westeros and the War of the Five (Four) Kings.

There only being four men savaging the woman seems to be directly addressed by the author in a later book:

Even in Oldtown, far from the fighting and safe behind its walls, the War of the Five Kings had touched them all . . . although Archmaester Benedict insisted that there had never been a war of five kings, since Renly Baratheon had been slain before Balon Greyjoy had crowned himself. - Prologue, AFFC

Alternative theory: It's Daenerys, and the Undying. Later in this chapter she'll encounter four of the Undying (a kingly man, a woman, a warrior, and a handsome man) who will attempt to savage her, and it sounds eerily similar to what's happening above.

Alternative theory: It’s Daenerys, and four men who will/have exploit(ed) her. My issue with that is, how do you determine the four men? Four men she’ll sleep with? Shouldn't Tyrion and Jorah be represented? It’s an okay theory, but too many men take advantage of Daenerys.

+.+.+

Farther on she came upon a feast of corpses. Savagely slaughtered, the feasters lay strewn across overturned chairs and hacked trestle tables, asprawl in pools of congealing blood. Some had lost limbs, even heads. Severed hands clutched bloody cups, wooden spoons, roast fowl, heels of bread. In a throne above them sat a dead man with the head of a wolf. He wore an iron crown and held a leg of lamb in one hand as a king might hold a scepter, and his eyes followed Dany with mute appeal.

Robb Stark, and the Red Wedding.

I'm spoiling a bit of what's to come, but this is the only time a vision appears that doesn't directly relate to Daenerys. George is either blowing his load wanting to spoil the Red Wedding, or he wishes to communicate that Daenerys is another doomed monarch with shady allies.

Alternative theory: I've read people suggest this could be Jon. These people are wrong.

+.+.+

She fled from him, but only as far as the next open door. I know this room, she thought. She remembered those great wooden beams and the carved animal faces that adorned them. And there outside the window, a lemon tree! The sight of it made her heart ache with longing. It is the house with the red door, the house in Braavos. No sooner had she thought it than old Ser Willem came into the room, leaning heavily on his stick. "Little princess, there you are," he said in his gruff kind voice. "Come," he said, "come to me, my lady, you're home now, you're safe now." His big wrinkled hand reached for her, soft as old leather, and Dany wanted to take it and hold it and kiss it, she wanted that as much as she had ever wanted anything. Her foot edged forward, and then she thought, He's dead, he's dead, the sweet old bear, he died a long time ago.

I'm going to be real with you, I don't give a shit about this door. I couldn't care less whether it has ever truly existed, or if it's actually located in Braavos. That's all the commentary you'll get from me.

Only interesting thing here is that Willem Darry is a dead old bear who remained loyal until the end.

Daenerys often refers to Jorah Mormont as her old bear.

+.+.+

The skulls of dead dragons looked down from its walls. Upon a towering barbed throne sat an old man in rich robes, an old man with dark eyes and long silver-grey hair. "Let him be king over charred bones and cooked meat," he said to a man below him. "Let him be the king of ashes." Drogon shrieked, his claws digging through silk and skin, but the king on his throne never heard, and Dany moved on.

"Let him be the king of ashes." -> Drogon shrieked. Lol

King Aerys Targaryen II ordering the burning of King's Landing before Robert Baratheon takes the city.

Pretty straightforward. I'll only point out that Drogon and cooked meat is a hilarious addition.

They would hiss and spit at each bloody morsel of horsemeat, steam rising from their nostrils, yet they would not take the food . . . until Dany recalled something Viserys had told her when they were children.

Only dragons and men eat cooked meat, he had said. - Daenerys I, ACOK

+.+.+

Viserys, was her first thought the next time she paused, but a second glance told her otherwise. The man had her brother's hair, but he was taller, and his eyes were a dark indigo rather than lilac. "Aegon," he said to a woman nursing a newborn babe in a great wooden bed. "What better name for a king?"

"Will you make a song for him?" the woman asked.

"He has a song," the man replied. "He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire." He looked up when he said it and his eyes met Dany's, and it seemed as if he saw her standing there beyond the door. "There must be one more," he said, though whether he was speaking to her or the woman in the bed she could not say. "The dragon has three heads." He went to the window seat, picked up a harp, and ran his fingers lightly over its silvery strings.

Sweet sadness filled the room as man and wife and babe faded like the morning mist, only the music lingering behind to speed her on her way.

"Aegon," he said to a woman nursing a newborn babe in a great wooden bed. "What better name for a king?":

Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell with baby Aegon, straight from the author's mouth:

Who is the couple celebrating the birth of a son that Dany sees in her vision in the wizard's palace in Qarth? Can you tell us? Is it Rhaegar and someone? Or is it the original Aegon (the Conqueror?)

Rhaegar and his wife, Elia of Dorne. - SSM

"There must be one more,":

R + L = J foreshadowing.

"He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire." He looked up when he said it and his eyes met Dany's, and it seemed as if he saw her standing there beyond the door:

You're wrong, rat.

The Prince That Was Promised is Daenerys.

The author accidentally spoiled that Azor Ahai and The Prince That Was Promised are the same person in a behind-the-scenes commentary of the show here.

CliffsNotes of my opinion on the matter:

Azor Ahai/TPTWP is Daenerys.

Lightbringer/The Stallion Who Mounts The World is Drogon.

The prophecies aren't being deciphered correctly (because, duh). It’s a forewarning; they're not a saviour or hero.

+.+.+

She took a step forward. But then Drogon leapt from her shoulder. He flew to the top of the ebony-and-weirwood door, perched there, and began to bite at the carved wood.

We love when dragons attack weirwood.

Brandon Snow, where you at?

+.+.+

. . . the shape of shadows . . . morrows not yet made . . . drink from the cup of ice . . . drink from the cup of fire . . . . . . mother of dragons . . . child of three . . . "Three?" She did not understand. . . . three heads has the dragon . . . the ghost chorus yammered inside her skull with never a lip moving, never a breath stirring the still blue air. . . . mother of dragons . . . child of storm . . . The whispers became a swirling song. . . .

Aerys had three children, Rhaegar had three children, Daenerys has three children, the sigil has three heads, blah blah blah.

Over in these parts we like to pay attention when the author releases a book detailing all the historical wars between Targaryens, because you can learn a lot.

For instance, I learned that Daenerys, Aegon VI, and Jon will not be riding any dragons to save the world. Instead, they're going to kill each other.

+.+.+

three fires must you light . . . one for life and one for death and one to love

IT'S TIME.

One for LIFE -> Khal Drogo's funeral pyre.

Do I have to explain this one? I think we’re all on the same page.

"They are mine," she said fiercely. They had been born from her faith and her need, given life by the deaths of her husband and unborn son and the maegi Mirri Maz Duur. - Daenerys I, ACOK

One for DEATH -> Fall of Astapor.

A little harder. This could be the fire at Astapor that started it all, the fire in the fighting pits when she first mounts Drogon, or the Battle of Fire in Meereen. Regardless, I think it’s safe to say her entire arc in Slaver’s Bay is built on death.

All my victories turn to dross in my hands, she thought. Whatever I do, all I make is death and horror. - Daenerys VI, ASOS

"Aegon the Conqueror brought fire and blood to Westeros, but afterward he gave them peace, prosperity, and justice. But all I have brought to Slaver's Bay is death and ruin. I have been more khal than queen, smashing and plundering, then moving on." - Daenerys VI, ASOS

I am queen over a city built on dust and death. - Daenerys I, ADWD

"We are all dead, then. You gave us death, not freedom." Ghael leapt to his feet and spat into her face. - Daenerys III, ADWD

One to LOVE -> Fall of King's Landing.

How can this be love?

I ask you, what consumes Daenerys above all else? Love for the throne, love for her family's legacy, love for her dragons, and needing love from her people. Take your pick.

This idea of fear vs love is a ongoing theme in the books with all monarchs, and the show heavily leaned on it with Daenerys.

Full admission, I struggle with the wording here (to love?), and I'm not sure how George will convey this being done for love, but I do know her burning King's Landing is the climax/near finale of her story, and it's asinine to believe that fire wouldn't appear in this vision. It has to go here.

They know who I am, and they do not love me. Dany could tell from the way they looked at her. - Daenerys V, ACOK

"Enough." Dany slapped the table. "No one will be left to die. You are all my people." Her dreams of home and love had blinded her. - Daenerys III, ADWD

Ser Barristan went to one knee before her. "My queen, your realm has need of you. You are not wanted here, but in Westeros men will flock to your banners by the thousands, great lords and noble knights. 'She is come,' they will shout to one another, in glad voices. 'Prince Rhaegar's sister has come home at last.' "

"If they love me so much, they will wait for me." Dany stood. - Daenerys III, ADWD

"Give me the cup," he told the Stranger, "for I shall drink deep. And if it tastes of gold and lion's blood, so much the better. As I cannot be the hero, let me be the monster, and lesson them in fear in place of love." - Mercy, TWOW

+.+.+

three mounts must you ride . . . one to bed and one to dread and one to love

After reading theories for this one, I am more convinced than ever this fandom is the dumbest in existence.

One to BED -> Her silver.

Her silver, the horse she rode on her wedding night to Khal Drogo.

Dany had lost all track of time. Khal Drogo commanded his bloodriders to bring forth his own horse, a lean red stallion. As the khal was saddling the horse, Viserys slid close to Dany on her silver, dug his fingers into her leg, and said, "Please him, sweet sister, or I swear, you will see the dragon wake as it has never woken before."

[...]

They rode out together as the stars came out, leaving the khalasar and the grass palaces behind. Khal Drogo spoke no word to her, but drove his stallion at a hard trot through the gathering dusk. The tiny silver bells in his long braid rang softly as he rode. "I am the blood of the dragon," she whispered aloud as she followed, trying to keep her courage up. "I am the blood of the dragon. I am the blood of the dragon." The dragon was never afraid. - Daenerys II, AGOT

One to DREAD -> Pale Mare (Bloody Flux).

Most people slot Drogon here, and I'm not sure what the hell they're thinking. Why would you do that? Because Balerion the Black Dread? Right. Except, where has it ever been suggested in the book that Daenerys would dread mounting Drogon? That’s what she lives for.

The obvious answer, is that this is either the pale mare (bloody flux) or the Greyjoy fleet. Both continue the theme of horses/pseudo horses, and both have clearly been established as something she should/does dread.

For those unaware, the pale mare is the bloody flux (dysentery) that’s running rampant in Slaver’s Bay. Take note that whenever someone catches the bloody flux they call it "mounting the pale mare." Hello??

Whether she catches the bloody flux or not, doesn't matter - it's already caused enough dread in her story. For the record, some believe she currently has it.

Many were sick, most were starved, and all were doomed to die. Daenerys dare not open her gates to let them in. She had tried to do what she could for them. She had sent them healers, Blue Graces and spell-singers and barber-surgeons, but some of those had sickened as well, and none of their arts had slowed the galloping progression of the flux that had come on the pale mare. - Daenerys VI, ADWD

From here he could see four lesser pyramids, the city's western walls, and the camps of the Yunkishmen by the shores of Slaver's Bay, where a thick column of greasy smoke twisted upward like some monstrous serpent. The Yunkishmen burning their dead, he realized. The pale mare is galloping through their siege camps. Despite all the queen had done, the sickness had spread, both within the city walls and without. Meereen's markets were closed, its streets empty. King Hizdahr had allowed the fighting pits to remain open, but the crowds were sparse. The Meereenese had even begun to shun the Temple of the Graces, reportedly.

The slavers will find some way to blame Daenerys for that as well, Ser Barristan thought bitterly. - The Queensguard, ADWD

These are dire days. Death stalks our streets, riding the pale mare from thrice-cursed Astapor. Dragons haunt the skies, feasting on the flesh of children. Hundreds are taking ship, sailing for Yunkai, for Tolos, for Qarth, for any refuge that will have them. - The Queen’s Hand, ADWD

"So did Nurse, poor man. And now Yezzan himself has mounted the pale mare, and six of his soldiers have the shits. May I have two pails full?" - Tyrion XI, ADWD

He dared not ask that question aloud. Even hard men like the Second Sons were terrified of mounting the pale mare. - Tyrion XI, ADWD

Alternative theory: The Greyjoy ships that will take her to Westeros. Again, I'm spoiling a bit of what's to come, but the Greyjoys and their fleet feature heavily in this chapter. Quaithe has warned Daenerys about the Greyjoys, and all readers should know that's a doomed alliance that she has every reason to dread.

"In the Free Cities, there are ships by the thousand," Dany told him, as she had told him before. "Wooden horses with a hundred legs, that fly across the sea on wings full of wind." - Daenerys VI, AGOT

One to LOVE -> Drogon.

Uh, duh?

Look at that, a winged horse, we continue to stay on theme. Magic.

There's the only spot Drogon belongs, and any other interpretation is absurd, I'm sorry. I've seen people suggest this could be Jon, and I seriously question how those people managed to pass any book report in high school. Trying to turn the mounts into men she'll fuck is so stupid I want to scream.

It's the fucking dragon she loves to mount.

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

The lash was still in her hand. She flicked it against Drogon's neck and cried, "Higher!" Her other hand clutched at his scales, her fingers scrabbling for purchase. Drogon's wide black wings beat the air. Dany could feel the heat of him between her thighs. Her heart felt as if it were about to burst. Yes, she thought, yes, now, now, do it, do it, take me, take me, FLY! - Daenerys IX, ADWD

+.+.+

three treasons will you know . . . once for blood and once for gold and once for love . . .

If you want to know what stalled me for two weeks, you're looking at it. I'm sorry guys, the best I can do is guess. I don't like guessing, but there's very little to work with.

CliffNotes of my thought process:

This will make more sense after we get through the next set of visions, but it's apparent to me all of these visions are reflections of Daenerys, her actions, and transgressions. Knowing this, it makes the most sense to me that these are her own treasons. That theory is not my own, but I strongly agree with it.

@agentrouka-blog had the great idea that if these are her own treasons, they're likely to be against her own people. It will be a critique of power, because that's what George does best.

Daenerys currently believes the treasons are Mirri Maz Duur, Jorah Mormont, and Ben Plumm. Meaning they are not the treasons.

If I'm wrong, and these treasons are committed against Daenerys, then I have to believe they haven't happened yet, because I don't see any evidence for it.

If these treasons are committed against Daenerys, it will be from major characters with their own point of view.

If these treasons are committed against Daenerys, she will provoke the betrayal, and she will be irrational about the accusation.

Once for BLOOD -> Blood magic to save Khal Drogo [Daenerys betrays the Dothraki people].

Daenerys ignores Dothraki customs (and Khal Drogo's dying wishes?), instead choosing to use bloodmagic to save him, and keep her dream of conquering Westeros alive.

"Maegi," grunted Haggo, fingering his arakh. His look was dark. Dany remembered the word from a terrifying story that Jhiqui had told her one night by the cookfire. A maegi was a woman who lay with demons and practiced the blackest of sorceries, a vile thing, evil and soulless, who came to men in the dark of night and sucked life and strength from their bodies. - Daenerys VII, AGOT

"Kill her and you kill your khal," Dany said.

"This is bloodmagic," he said. "It is forbidden."

"I am khaleesi, and I say it is not forbidden. - Daenerys VIII, AGOT

The maegi nodded solemnly. "As you speak, so it shall be done. Call your servants."

Khal Drogo writhed feebly as Rakharo and Quaro lowered him into the bath. "No," he muttered, "no. Must ride." - Daenerys VIII

Alternative theory: Arianne Martell or Euron Greyjoy.

House Martell and House Targaryen have a pact that's gone up in smoke (heh) due to her dragons. Arianne Martell will "betray" that pact seeking revenge for her blood, Quentyn Martell. You can throw Aegon in here too if you'd like.

Euron Greyjoy may appear like an ally, but he will betray Daenerys for her blood.

Once for GOLD -> Gold whenever a slave trades hands [Daenerys betrays the slaves].

Love this idea from @shieldofrohan.

Daenerys bends, and accepts gold in exchange for the sale of slaves. A betrayal of the slaves and her mission in Slaver’s Bay.

"In Astapor the city took a tenth part of the price, each time a slave changed hands," Missandei told her.

"We'll do the same," Dany decided. Wars were won with gold as much as swords. "A tenth part. In gold or silver coin, or ivory. Meereen has no need of saffron, cloves, or zorse hides." - Daenerys VI, ASOS

Alternative theory: A treason for gold screams Tyrion Lannister. Will he betray her for his golden brother or Casterly Rock? You might remember she accuses him of treason on the show after he frees his brother.

Once for LOVE -> Fall of King's Landing [Daenerys betrays the Westerosi people].

Again, we circle back to this idea that she'll burn King's Landing for love (or lack thereof).

A different interpretation of the same idea, is that she's burning King's Landing because she loves being the dragon, and loves that throne.

She was the blood of the dragon. She could kill the Sons of the Harpy, and the sons of the sons, and the sons of the sons of the sons. But a dragon could not feed a hungry child nor help a dying woman's pain. And who would ever dare to love a dragon? - Daenerys II, ADWD

How is this a betrayal of the Westerosi? Well, she said she'd never do it.

The Dothraki sacked cities and plundered kingdoms, they did not rule them. Dany had no wish to reduce King's Landing to a blackened ruin full of unquiet ghosts. - Daenerys II, ACOK

Alternative theory: Jon Snow chooses the real family he loves, and kills his aunt.

My issue with this theory has always been that I've never believed the north or Jon Snow would serve her in the books, so how could this be treason? Then I noticed Stannis keeps accusing Robb Stark of treason.

If Jon Snow refuses to kneel, because of love for his family and kingdom, that would be considered treason in her eyes.

+.+.+

"I don't . . ." Her voice was no more than a whisper, almost as faint as theirs. What was happening to her? "I don't understand," she said, more loudly. Why was it so hard to talk here? "Help me. Show me."

. . . help her . . . the whispers mocked. . . . show her . . .

mother of dragons, daughter of death . . .

[...]

mother of dragons, slayer of lies . . .

[...]

mother of dragons, bride of fire . . .

I want to talk about this separately. The first thing I need to point out is that this chapter is woeful from beginning to end, and the Undying are mocking her. There's nothing positive happening here. It seems like a simple enough point, but it’s amazing how many people manage to ignore that.

She heard the screams of frightened horses, and the voices of the Dothraki raised in shouts of fear and terror, and Ser Jorah calling her name and cursing. No, she wanted to shout to him, no, my good knight, do not fear for me. The fire is mine. I am Daenerys Stormborn, daughter of dragons, bride of dragons, mother of dragons, don't you see? Don't you SEE? - Daenerys X, AGOT

They're throwing her own words right back at her. She is the daughter of dragons/death, and bride of dragons/fire.

We already know what bride of fire is referring to. It's not a literal marriage.

Remember in Catelyn XI, AGOT, Catelyn spells out Robb's doom to the reader:

He had pledged himself to marry a daughter of Walder Frey, but she saw his true bride plain before her now: the sword he had laid on the table. - Catelyn XI, AGOT

Robb is married to his sword, and it will be his downfall. In the very next chapter we get the following passage:

The flames writhed before her like the women who had danced at her wedding, whirling and singing and spinning their yellow and orange and crimson veils, fearsome to behold, yet lovely, so lovely, alive with heat. Dany opened her arms to them, her skin flushed and glowing. This is a wedding, too, she thought. - Daenerys X, AGOT

Robb is married to his sword, and Daenerys is married to the fire. It will be her downfall. She is a Targaryen, a daughter of death, married to her dragons, she will always choose fire & blood.

Bride of fire has never meant she’s going to marry Jon Snow. My god.

Alright, let's continue.

+.+.+

Then phantoms shivered through the murk, images in indigo. Viserys screamed as the molten gold ran down his cheeks and filled his mouth. A tall lord with copper skin and silver-gold hair stood beneath the banner of a fiery stallion, a burning city behind him. Rubies flew like drops of blood from the chest of a dying prince, and he sank to his knees in the water and with his last breath murmured a woman's name. . . . mother of dragons, daughter of death . . .

Daughter of DEATH (Death -> Dragons)

Viserys screamed as the molten gold ran down his cheeks and filled his mouth:

Vierseys Targaryen.

A tall lord with copper skin and silver-gold hair stood beneath the banner of a fiery stallion, a burning city behind him:

Rhaego.

Rubies flew like drops of blood from the chest of a dying prince, and he sank to his knees in the water and with his last breath murmured a woman's name:

Rhaegar Targaryen.

Easy enough, we begin with three fallen family members. Not a great start for the daughter of death.

It would seem Rhaegar is the second time a vision doesn't directly relate to Daenerys, but I disagree. We have a vision of the Trident, and hints of Jon. Wink.

+.+.+

Glowing like sunset, a red sword was raised in the hand of a blue-eyed king who cast no shadow. A cloth dragon swayed on poles amidst a cheering crowd. From a smoking tower, a great stone beast took wing, breathing shadow fire. . . . mother of dragons, slayer of lies . . .

Slayer of LIES (The lie -> Daenerys)

Glowing like sunset, a red sword was raised in the hand of a blue-eyed king who cast no shadow:

Stannis Baratheon.

Again, every vision relates back to Daenerys. The lie here is that Stannis Baratheon is not Azor Ahai, Daenerys is.

A cloth dragon swayed on poles amidst a cheering crowd:

Targaryen banners on Victarion Greyjoy's ship.

Ohh boy, here comes the controversy.

What am I doing assigning that cloth dragon to Victarion Greyjoy instead of Aegon VI Targaryen?

The idea that Aegon VI is the cloth dragon seems to have stemmed from the following:

"A dead man in the prow of a ship, a blue rose, a banquet of blood . . . what does any of it mean, Khaleesi? A mummer's dragon, you said. What is a mummer's dragon, pray?"

"A cloth dragon on poles," Dany explained. "Mummers use them in their follies, to give the heroes something to fight." - Daenerys V, ACOK

Daenerys has concluded it's a cloth dragon used by mummers. Later, Daenerys will be warned by Quaithe to not trust the mummer's dragon (JON. It's Jon.). Together, those two passages have convinced the fandom the cloth dragon must belong to Aegon VI; he's the mummer's dragon, and she's the slayer of his lie.

That's a reasonable theory, but I have one big problem with it. Since when do we trust Daenerys Targaryen's interpretation of a warning or vision? No thank you, ma'am. Immediate red flags.

If that's not enough, you might be surprised to learn there’s already evidence of an existing cloth dragon in the story that everyone seems to have missed.

In 2012, at Olympus Eastercon, George did a chapter reading of Tyrion I, TWOW. Unlike Tyrion II, the chapter has never been fully released, therefore it’s missing from search functions and largely ignored by the fandom.

The chapter dramatically ends with news that Victarion Greyjoy has heroically arrived to Meereen, with dragon banners attached to his masts. Tyrion II then opens with the ironborn battling the Qarth fleet.

Tell me, what are the odds those cloth dragons swaying in the wind are the Greyjoy ships? What are the odds this is a vision of her victory in Meereen, and the ships she’ll board to sail to Westeros?

I'm not saying it can't be Aegon VI, it very well could, but as of right now there's only evidence to support it's Victarion.

So what's the lie? Hold on, we'll get to it.

Alternative theory: These are Aegon's banners, and his identity is the lie. Again, perfectly reasonable theory, but I'm a rebel.

From a smoking tower, a great stone beast took wing, breathing shadow fire:

Drogon burning King's Landing.

A ton of people have difficulty with this vision, and I think the problem is the answer feels too obvious.

I’ve seen arguments that this represents Jon Connington because it's a stone (greyscale) dragon, and I’ve seen arguments that it’s Euron Greyjoy near Oldtown. Given Euron is in the next set of visions, I'm leaning towards the most obvious answer, which also tends to be the correct one. It's Drogon in King's Landing.

So what’s the lie? Follow the row.

Stannis posturing as Azor Ahai with his fake ass sword -> the people are celebrating Daenerys, their mother, their saviour, their hero -> Drogon (the real Lightbringer) burns down King's Landing.

When your dragonswere small they were a wonder. Grown, they are death and devastation, a flaming sword above the world. - Daenerys III, ADWD

Daenerys (the real Azor Ahai) is the lie. She is no hero.

+.+.+

Her silver was trotting through the grass, to a darkling stream beneath a sea of stars. A corpse stood at the prow of a ship, eyes bright in his dead face, grey lips smiling sadly. A blue flower grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness. . . . mother of dragons, bride of fire . . .

Bride of FIRE (Fire -> her choice, her doom)

Her silver was trotting through the grass, to a darkling stream beneath a sea of stars:

The Dothraki afterlife.

Consensus has always been this is Daenerys riding her silver on her wedding night. Me thinks they’re wrong.

Props to @shieldofrohan for noticing Daenerys doesn’t see herself mounted on her silver in this vision. She theorized this might instead represent the Dothraki afterlife. Given the theme of this set of visions, I agree.

The Dothraki believed the stars were horses made of fire, a great herd that galloped across the sky by night. – Daenerys V, AGOT

When a horselord dies, his horse is slain with him, so he might ride proud into the night lands. The bodies are burned beneath the open sky, and the khal rises on his fiery steed to take his place among the stars. The more fiercely the man burned in life, the brighter his star will shine in the darkness. – Daenerys X, AGOT

A corpse stood at the prow of a ship, eyes bright in his dead face, grey lips smiling sadly:

Well hello there, Euron Greyjoy.

A man with grey (Grey) lips smiling (Joy) sadly. Dead man Aeron Greyjoy is currently bound to the prow of Euron’s Silence.

This time, the mutes did not drag him below. Instead, they lashed him to the prow of the Silence, beside her figurehead, a naked maiden slim and strong with outstretched arms and windblown hair … but no mouth below her nose.

They bound Aeron Damphair tight with strips of leather that would shrink when wet, clad only in his beard and breechclout. The Crow’s Eye spoke a command; a black sail was raised, lines were cast off, and the Silence backed away from shore to the slow beat of the oarmaster’s drum, her oars rising and dipping and rising again, churning the water. Above them, the castle was burning, flames licking from the open windows.

[…]

“Falia Flowers,” he called. “Have courage, girl! All this will be over soon, and we will feast together in the Drowned God’s watery halls.” – The Forsaken, TWOW

Here’s the problem with interpreting bride of fire literally: you have Euron Greyjoy sitting in the middle of these visions.

Sorry, Jon Snow doesn’t get love interest duties unless you’re assigning that same role to Euron Greyjoy. Ouch. Tough loss.

Staying on the theme of death and her doom, we have Euron. I don't know the exact takeaway, but one can only assume that Euron is going to cause a lot of problems for Daenerys and her dragons.

A blue flower grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness:

Jon Snow and Stark daughter(s).

Fam, I'm going to pass on talking about that blue rose in great detail. We're all on the same page. It stopped belonging strictly to Lyanna the second Bael the Bard entered the story. It represents Stark daughters, and that's all I'm going to say about it.

Now, how the fuck do you manage to interpret this vision positively coming off the image of a corpse on Euron Greyjoy's ship?

Does anything else need to be said about this that hasn’t already been said? It's the man (or family) that will kill her.

Quick summary:

Sweetness -> bad omen for Daenerys.

Blue -> bad omen for Daenerys.

The entire god damn row of visions -> bad omen for Daenerys.

This whole bloody chapter -> bad omen for Daenerys.

A foul, sweet smell rose from the wound, so thick it almost choked her. – Daenerys VIII, AGOT

"Sweet smells are sometimes used to cover foul ones." – Daenerys II, ACOK

Above it floated a human heart, swollen and blue with corruption – Daenerys IV, ACOK

The Undying were all around her, blue and cold, whispering as they reached for her – Daenerys IV, ACOK

"Blue lips speak only lies, isn't that what Xaro told you? Why do you care what the warlocks whispered? All they wanted was to suck the life from you, you know that now." – Daenerys V, ACOK

Beware men with cold hearts and blue lips. – Daenerys III, ADWD

So, where does that leave us?

Dothraki afterlife -> a corpse on Euron's ship -> Jon Snow/the Starks.

Death on death on death.

Bride of fire, married to her doom.

There. Final answer.

I'm never discussing this again.

+.+.+

Faster and faster the visions came, one after the other, until it seemed as if the very air had come alive. Shadows whirled and danced inside a tent, boneless and terrible. A little girl ran barefoot toward a big house with a red door. Mirri Maz Duur shrieked in the flames, a dragon bursting from her brow. Behind a silver horse the bloody corpse of a naked man bounced and dragged. A white lion ran through grass taller than a man. Beneath the Mother of Mountains, a line of naked crones crept from a great lake and knelt shivering before her, their grey heads bowed. Ten thousand slaves lifted bloodstained hands as she raced by on her silver, riding like the wind. "Mother!" they cried. "Mother, mother!" They were reaching for her, touching her, tugging at her cloak, the hem of her skirt, her foot, her leg, her breast. They wanted her, needed her, the fire, the life, and Dany gasped and opened her arms to give herself to them . . .

God, it never ends.

Shadows whirled and danced inside a tent, boneless and terrible -> Mirri Maz Duur's bloodmagic inside the tent.

A little girl ran barefoot toward a big house with a red door -> Daenerys and the red door.

Mirri Maz Duur shrieked in the flames, a dragon bursting from her brow -> Mirri Maz Duur burning alive; the birth of dragons.

Behind a silver horse the bloody corpse of a naked man bounced and dragged -> Daenerys and the wineseller.

A white lion ran through grass taller than a man -> the Hrakkar that Khal Drogo killed, and gifted to Daenerys.

Beneath the Mother of Mountains, a line of naked crones crept from a great lake and knelt shivering before her, their grey heads bowed -> Daenerys burns all the khals in Vaes Dothrak and climbs the Mother of Mountains.

Ten thousand slaves lifted bloodstained hands as she raced by on her silver, riding like the wind -> Dothraki slaves? Slaver’s Bay slaves? Doesn’t really matter.

Funniest part:

"Mother!" they cried. "Mother, mother!" They were reaching for her, touching her, tugging at her cloak, the hem of her skirt, her foot, her leg, her breast. They wanted her, needed her, the fire, the life, and Dany gasped and opened her arms to give herself to them . . .

The slaves are clutching and grabbing. They want her, they need her. Help them, Daenerys!

Then:

But then black wings buffeted her round the head, and a scream of fury cut the indigo air, and suddenly the visions were gone

Oops, somebody interrupts. Bwah!

One thing I don't understand is why a vision of the red door is appearing in the middle of visions dominated by the Dothraki and Vaes Dothrak. Any ideas? I've got nothing.

There's a lot more to be said here, but I'm going to leave that to @shieldofrohan, because I'll botch the delivery. There appears to be a fascinating pattern of water, air, earth, and fire grouping every vision together and telling a bigger story.

Also of note, @shieldofrohan noticed this chapter is seemingly mirroring Daenerys VI, AGOT. Cool stuff.

Edit: @shieldofrohan has spoken. Must read.

+.+.+

But then black wings buffeted her round the head, and a scream of fury cut the indigo air, and suddenly the visions were gone, ripped away, and Dany's gasp turned to horror. The Undying were all around her, blue and cold, whispering as they reached for her, pulling, stroking, tugging at her clothes, touching her with their dry cold hands, twining their fingers through her hair. All the strength had left her limbs. She could not move. Even her heart had ceased to beat. She felt a hand on her bare breast, twisting her nipple. Teeth found the soft skin of her throat. A mouth descended on one eye, licking, sucking, biting . . .

We love when cold things try to kill Daenerys.

I have to laugh. @shieldofrohan pointed out that one of the Undying descend upon her eye, and start sucking/biting. That might explain an eyepatch worn by another character...

We love when soulmates travel the same journey.

The captain took the cup Euron had not offered, sniffed at its contents suspiciously. Seen up close, it looked more blue than black. It was thick and oily, with a smell like rotted flesh. He tried a small swallow, and spit it out at once. "Foul stuff. Do you mean to poison me?"

"I mean to open your eyes." Euron drank deep from his own cup, and smiled. "Shade-of-the-evening, the wine of the warlocks. I came upon a cask of it when I captured a certain galleas out of Qarth, along with some cloves and nutmeg, forty bolts of green silk, and four warlocks who told a curious tale. - The Reaver, AFFC

This whole chapter is Storm x Storm heaven.

+.+.+

A long stone table filled this room. Above it floated a human heart, swollen and blue with corruption, yet still alive. It beat, a deep ponderous throb of sound, and each pulse sent out a wash of indigo light. The figures around the table were no more than blue shadows. As Dany walked to the empty chair at the foot of the table, they did not stir, nor speak, nor turn to face her. There was no sound but the slow, deep beat of the rotting heart.

[...]

Her own heart was beating in unison to the one that floated before her, blue and corrupt . . .

[...]

The voices were growing louder, she realized, and it seemed her heart was slowing, and even her breath. . . .

[...]

Then indigo turned to orange, and whispers turned to screams. Her heart was pounding, racing, the hands and mouths were gone, heat washed over her skin, and Dany blinked at a sudden glare. Perched above her, the dragon spread his wings and tore at the terrible dark heart, ripping the rotten flesh to ribbons, and when his head snapped forward, fire flew from his open jaws, bright and hot. She could hear the shrieks of the Undying as they burned, their high thin papery voices crying out in tongues long dead. Their flesh was crumbling parchment, their bones dry wood soaked in tallow. They danced as the flames consumed them; they staggered and writhed and spun and raised blazing hands on high, their fingers bright as torches.

Dany pushed herself to her feet and bulled through them. They were light as air, no more than husks, and they fell at a touch. The whole room was ablaze by the time she reached the door. "Drogon," she called, and he flew to her through the fire.

Her own heart was beating in unison to the one that floated before her, blue and corrupt . . .

LMAO.

Indigo light turned orange... Okay, sure. I don't care anymore. Get me out of this chapter.

Here's a stupid blue rotting corrupt heart that Daenerys first observes when she encounters the Undying. It seems to be their life force, and they appear to be draining her.

Then Drogon attacks it, and I think eats part of it (hearteater!), which is hilarious.

Anyway, whatever. I'm done. That's probably what's happening to Bran in that tree. Don't worry, he'll be fine.

Alternative theory: People seem to believe this is the heart of winter... no. No, it's not. Holy fuck.

+.+.+

Edit:

...

Oops.

I am not done. Thank you, @une-nuit-pour-se-souvenir.

When she spilled out into the sun, the bright light made her stumble. Pyat Pree was gibbering in some unknown tongue and hopping from one foot to the other.

[...]

Howling curses, Pyat Pree drew a knife and danced toward her, but Drogon flew at his face.

Somehow I managed to miss George foreshadowing her death at the end of all of this. Listen, I was tired and over it!

So who is the killer? Who is Pyat Pree? Two options:

Jon

A man. A knife. Dance. Dance of dragons. Enough said.

Arya

Pyat Pree is hopping from one foot to the other. He's speaking some unknown tongue. He dances towards her. Water dancer.

On the way back to his chambers, he came upon his daughter Arya on the winding steps of the Tower of the Hand, windmilling her arms as she struggled to balance on one leg. The rough stone had scuffed her bare feet. Ned stopped and looked at her. "Arya, what are you doing?"

"Syrio says a water dancer can stand on one toe for hours." Her hands flailed at the air to steady herself. - Eddard V, AGOT

Arya hopped from the high branch to one beneath it, her hands out for balance. A water dancer never falls. - Arya V, ACOK

"One of the mummers," said the pretty one. He pushed his fair hair back off his brow and smiled at her. "Sorry, sweetling, we don't speak your gibble-gabble." - Mercy, TWOW

Hmmm. Which one could it be?

Like and subscribe to find out!

And don't forget to check out my Patreon.

Final thoughts:

Not to be dramatic, but Daenerys Targaryen is the worst thing to ever happen to me.

-> return to menu <-

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kikyan · 2 years ago

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Yandere Gray Fullbuster

Honestly these may sound bland, but this is one of those characters that unless I write out a scenario/drabble, he won’t sound that intriguing. If that makes sense....? Anyways, please enjoy!

These are my interpretations of his/her/their persona and none of these are 100% accurate. I don't condone any of these actions in real life and all of this is purely fictional and should be taken as such!

Overprotective, stalker, and possessive. I truly am afraid I will butcher and misinterpret his character, but these are the vibes I get. Unlike Natsu who is a lot more childlike and tends to joke a lot, Gray sticks to a more serious behavior. Now mind you, I did read the manga and finished it but that was back in middle school. . .so I may get a few things wrong, feel free to correct me if needed! Spoilers for the most recent season I think? I completely forgot why he did it, but he infiltrated that villain group and just outright left Juvia. Yeah, it was a shitty thing to do, but he did it with the idea of protecting her (but also at Erza’s request). He’s the type to do things himself and keep you in the dark.

Definitely overprotective. Gray cares for his guildmates (seen plenty of times) and truly wants the best for them. Despite the occasional trash talk, for his guild he’ll sacrifice everything. With his S/O, I like to think he’ll do the same. Not afraid to stand up for them in public, but prefers a more secluded way of helping. If you ever go on a job, he’ll offer to accompany you but if you choose to decline he’ll respect that. He will also follow you and stay hidden, possibly dealing with villains in the background ensuring your mission goes smoothly. The type to offer to walk you home, “I walk by that way anyways, it’s not trouble at all.” He’ll never admit that he already secretly follows you to make sure nobody comes after you!

Tying in with his stalking abilities, he acts like your shadow. It’s more of a precaution, but he can’t help following you around. When you leave the guild after work and start making your way home, he’s there ready to make sure you get there safely. On your way to hang out with someone? He’ll follow you around as well! If by any chance you manage to catch him, he’ll simply brush it off and say that he’s following a lead on a job and walk away from you. This ties in with his possessiveness, if he ever needs a person to go on a job with, he’ll ask you. If Natsu ever were to flirt with you (not like this man can flirt) or anyone (Loke tbh) for that matter, he’d initiate the fight. You’re his and he’s not afraid to claim. I know these headcanons sound very plain but he’s not a scary yandere. I’d say a 6/10.

In the end, you matter to him. Your happiness matters as well as your safety, he truly does care for you. If you were to ask him for help, who is he to deny? Gray is a man of morals but I believe he’s willing to toss some aside to ensure your safety. If you already were in a relationship with him, he’s attached by the hip. He’s always there, he’s not too big on PDA but having an arm around your waist is something up his style. The type to ruffle your head, the type to flick your forehead when you say something stupid, the type to smile at you before leaving after he said something cheesy. It will make sense when I write him I swear.

#yandere fairy tail #yandere fairy tail x reader #yandere gray fullbuster x reader #yandere gray fullbuster #yandere gray #yandere #yandere gray x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere headcannons #yandere imagines

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beyondspaceandstars · 3 years ago

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“We Go Way Back”

Relationship: Yelena Belova x Reader Warnings: angst, attitude, possible vague Black Widow spoilers Summary: Your and Yelena's date night takes an unexpected turn when a surprise guest shows up at your shared apartment. A/N: So. I saw Black Widow on thursday....i loved SO much.......maybe even found a new comfort character..........and now here we are :) please enjoy

Masterlist

You were just finishing up dinner when two arms snaked around your waist. You giggled, staring down at the sautéed vegetables, as you leaned into your girlfriend’s touch.

"Smells good," she mumbled against your neck. Light kisses were beginning to litter your skin.

You sighed. "Thank you, love," you said, giving everything a final stir before turning off the burners. You went to start carrying items to the table, thinking your girlfriend would let up on her hold on you, but that ended up not being the case.

With a joyous laugh, you playfully scolded her, "Yelena, please," you smiled. "Do you want to eat or not?"

She hummed. Her hands drifted now to your sides and began creeping their way to your hips and thighs. "Depends on what you had in mind."

You let out a faux surprised gasp. "You’re shameless." You shook your head and peeled her hands away from you. She let out a little defeated sigh but you just shot her a playful look and continued with your initial mission of setting the dining table.

Thankfully, this time, Yelena lent a helping hand as opposed to lending her hands…elsewhere. The latter was a common occurrence, especially before date night dinners, such as ones like these. There had been one too many meals you were forced to reheat everything after you let Yelena get carried away.

After the food was placed — a nice spread of local meats, fresh produce, and bakery bread — you began working on getting plates and cutlery. Yelena had taken it upon herself to start breaking out the wine. She brought out two bottles you had just bought that morning based on the recommendation from the butcher. You maybe took cooking and dinners a bit too seriously, hoping everything was right especially when it was for your love.

You set out the cutlery just as Yelena finished pouring two (hefty) glasses of wine. You shot her a smile in thanks and began filling each of your plates. You did have to pat yourself on the back a bit, everything smelled wonderful.

Once you two had full plates and eager stomachs, you sat down and dug in. Yelena immediately let out an exaggerated moan as she practically devoured the meat. You blushed at her enthusiasm.

"This is wonderful, dear," Yelena praised and took a sip of her wine. "Very reminiscent of my momma’s cooking."

Your ears perked up at your girlfriend’s mention of her family. She did that every now and then, slip in random comments about them. You liked trying to explore it but knew the topic was a delicate one. You trod carefully.

"Yeah?" You asked, moving some vegetables around on your plate. "Did she cook a lot?"

Yelena shrugged. "We’d have dinners together, all of us, pretty much every night."

All of us. You had heard so far of a mother and a father but could there be more? Or were you reading too much into it?

Eventually, you settled on, "Family dinners sound very nice." That was enough, you thought. Just safe but still engaged. You eyed Yelena as she continued to eat. She hadn’t noticed you stalled or, well, she probably did, but wasn’t saying anything. You took large gulps of your wine, impulsively.

Just as your liquid courage was getting to you to maybe inquire further about your lover’s family, a hard knock at the front door disrupted the entire dinner. Both of your movements stopped abruptly. You looked between the door and your girlfriend.

"Were you expecting someone?" You asked.

Yelena shook her head. Her fork dropped with a loud clang as she pushed away from the table. In quick, determined strides she collected the gun kept in the side table in the living room. You watched her, quite stunned by her response. You don’t think you ever actually saw any of her guns come into action. When you first moved in, she just explained they were a precaution. You never asked what kind of precaution. You feared you were getting your answer now as Yelena walked to the entryway.

Gun drawn, pointed dead on with the wooden door, she called out, "Who is it?"

"You can put the gun down." Surprisingly, that was a female voice answering your girlfriend’s demand. Your brows furrowed in curiosity. You watched for Yelena’s reaction but she was still so stoic and intense.

Yelena scoffed. "Are you sure?"

Probably a bit foolishly, you decided to chime in. "Love," you said, "is everything okay?"

The female on the other side of the door spoke again, this time with an element of shock in her voice. "Love?"

Yelena let out a dramatic sigh as she relaxed her stance and surrendered her gun, placing it on the little table in the foyer. What seemed to be a bit reluctantly, Yelena opened the door forcefully.

Despite the mystery woman finally being revealed, it answered approximately zero of your questions. There, in the doorway, stood a redhead whose unamusing expression mixed with a slight smugness matched your girlfriend’s. The two just stared at one another, neither dared to move, as if they were challenging one another to try it.

Curiosity finally getting the best of you, you stood from the dining table and slowly made your way to the front door. Your fingers fumbled in nervousness as you stepped with caution.

"Hi, there," you said with a weak smile and gentle wave. The redhead’s eyes flicked over to you only briefly. Still, you continued, "Are you alright? Do you need something?"

"Oh, do I."

Yelena shook her head. "The only thing she needs is to leave."

You turned to your girlfriend, "Who is she?"

"Natasha," the redhead explained. "Me and your love here," she nodded towards Yelena, "we go way back."

You didn’t know how she had the air in her but Yelena let out another ridiculous sigh and stomped away. Like some defeated child, she took her seat once more at the dining table. You had never seen her like this before, so unattached and dismissive. You wracked your brain on how to mend this.

You turned back to Natasha. "Please, come in." Natasha took the offer quite well and gave you a nod of thanks before entering the apartment. You followed her into the dining room.

"We were just starting dinner," you explained as you raced for the kitchen, grabbing Natasha her own set. "Sit, have some food."

Natasha mumbled a "thanks" as you began filling her plate now with food. You even offered up some wine despite Yelena’s weird look she shot you when you reached for it. You ignored her odd behavior and took your seat once more. Somehow, the tension from the situation just got worse. Neither woman was eating now.

You cleared your throat as you prepared to dig into your meal once more. "I hope it’s still warm. If not, I can pop everything in the oven to warm."

No one said anything.

"Alright then…" You shrugged. "If I may, how exactly do you two know each other?"

That was the question that opened the flood gates. Yelena turned to you abruptly. "She’s my sister."

"Sort of," the redhead quickly retorted.

Your jaw went slack. Your appetite completely abandoned you now as your interest was greatly piqued. "Your sister?" You asked and looked between the two women. Well, they didn’t really look alike…

"Not biologically," Yelena explained. "We just kind of…lived together for a while."

"I see," you nodded. You scraped your fork against your plate, awkwardly. "If I may again, what brings you here, Natasha?"

The question certainly made Yelena perk up as she stared down her sister — or, whatever they considered each other. You resisted the urge to grab her hand under the table, unsure of what level of affection she was comfortable showing in front of this woman.

"Some business to attend to." Short and sweet. You felt these two were definitely related on some level.

"This couldn’t have waited until the morning?" Yelena gritted.

Natasha shrugged. "I guess it could’ve but then, apparently, I would’ve missed out on this lovely dinner with you and your… your, what? Girlfriend?" She took a bite of food. "Hmm, tastes close to someone else’s cooking." A shrug. "Anyways, I didn’t know you dated."

"You don’t know a lot of things."

"Okay!" You explained, trying to salvage whatever was left of this civilized conversation. Natasha and Yelena shared a look before turning to your flustered state. "We’re very happy you dropped in, right, love?" You glanced at Yelena. "And you’re more than welcome to stay, Natasha. I’m afraid all we have to offer is the couch if that would be okay."

Natasha glanced behind you at the living room before nodding. "That would be great," she smiled.

***

It wasn’t until you were standing at the kitchen sink cleaning the dishes from dinner that Yelena approached you to talk. Natasha was off getting ready for bed and your girlfriend hopped on this opportunity.

"I’m so sorry," she said as she stood beside you, taking on the role of the dryer in your little dishwasher assembly line. "I-I don’t even know where to begin. I’m sorry she dropped by, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about her—,"

"Love," you shook your head, giving her a sympathetic look, "it’s okay. I’m not really mad you didn’t tell me or that she’s here. From what I gather, it’s a complicated relationship."

Yelena let out an annoyed huff. "You have no idea." A beat. "But, still. I shouldn’t hide these things from you. She was a big part of my life and now you… you’re a big part of my life. It’s only fair."

Your heart warmed at her admission. She could be quite the affectionate one when she wanted to be. Quickly, you leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. She tried hiding her blush but failed beautifully.

"For what it’s worth, she seems very interesting," you shrugged. "I think she could be fun to get to know. Probably has a few embarrassing stories about you as a child."

Yelena gasped. "Don’t even think about it."

"Too late," you giggled, mentally marking that down as a subject for conversation. A brief silence passed over you two as you finished up with the dishes. Reaching the end of the chore, you said, "So, should I be on the lookout for any other siblings?"

Your girlfriend chuckled. "No," she admitted. "Natasha is it."

You let out a content hum in understanding. "One day we should have them all over."

"Them?"

"Yeah," you nodded, "your whole family. A nice, big family dinner. That could be exciting, right?"

Yelena rolled her eyes. Whether it was playful or not, you couldn’t quite tell. "That’s certainly one way to describe it."

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short-gayy · 3 years ago

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another OFMD post and she’s super long

there have already been a lot of takes about the really great way OFMD handles masculinity, but there is something i wanted to add. i think the thing that underscores stede’s personality and his struggles both in marriage AND as a pirate captain is the fact that he’s uncomfortable in masculine positions of authority. one of the first times we see this is in ep 1, with the flashback to stede’s home life. it shows him at the head of the table, with his wife seated all the way at the other end and the children seated right next to her. there is a literal and metaphorical gulf between them. mary and the kids are having a conversation, and stede looks both unhappy and uncomfortable when listening and trying to participate in the discussion. at first when i saw this scene i was bracing myself for another dismissal and butchering of women characters, but later in the episode, another scene changes this dynamic. it shows stede again seated at the table with his family, but he has moved down to sit by mary and the kids, and everyone is now smiling, laughing, and comfortable. by moving, stede literally and symbolically closed the gap between him and his family and removed himself from the head of the table, that place representing the authority of the man of the family. stede feels much more comfortable existing on a plane equal to mary and his family, yet his status and cultural norms prevent him from doing this. stede doesn’t feel completely uncomfortable around his family -- even though he is queer and him & mary were not a love match -- he is uncomfortable being in this traditional, patriarchal place of authority over them. this a more masculine space to occupy, and as the previous flashbacks about the dead animal and the flower picking show, stede is not very comfortable on a traditionally masculine plane. i think the fact that stede left without his family after mary rejected his idea to live out at sea shows this as well. he was the head of the household, the one with financial power, and could have easily made his family go with him whether they liked it or not, but he didn’t. he didn’t think the problem was his family, he thought it was where he was, the space he was supposed to occupy. to him, the sea represented a life of freedom and a realm outside of traditional society, where you lived by your own rules. he wanted his family to join him because he thought he would be able to be happy with them once they were freed from the confines of their restrictive aristocratic life. even though his marriage and family life was less than ideal for him, he still misses his family at the end of ep 1. and this leads into my next point. stede is pretty awful at being a pirate captain because, well, it’s another position of masculine authority! stede never felt comfortable being a mean and demanding captain – he always paid the crew, read them stories, encouraged them to talk about their feelings. he was able to be more authentically himself at sea – aka less masculine – but this made him a terrible captain in the eyes of the crew. the crew’s frustration with stede in ep 1 comes from the fact that they’re not doing traditional murderous pirate things, and buttons tells stede that they think he is weak. even though stede left for the sea to escape his masculine role at home, that masculine authority is still demanded of him but in a different way as captain. here, the masculinity he fails to perform is killing, maiming, robbing, etc. he constantly expresses discomfort at the thought of himself and others doing these things, which masculine men should have no problem with. stede equates his queasiness with killing as a pirate to his queasiness with the killing of an animal as a kid, demonstrating an overarching fear of killing that makes people perceive him as less of a man. stede has the most fun with the crew when interacting with them and being among them, just as he enjoyed sitting near his family. and one of the redeeming qualities that stede has, according to the crew, is that he reads them stories and does voices. the crew likes him best when he is closing that masculine power gap between them, just as his family looked more happy to be around him when he sat near them. stede being a more traditionally authoritative and ruthless pirate captain may have made the crew respect him more, but it wouldn’t make them like him. stede, overall, is uncomfortable being in a traditionally masculine state of power, and is also REALLY BAD at being in this position. and then enter ed. ed is really soft-hearted and less macho deep down, but his problem is that he is very good at PERFORMING masculinity, even though he doesn’t like it very much. it’s easy for him to threaten and yell and inspire fear in people, but really it is all a performance. we see this through the various exaggerated illustrations of blackbeard and black pete’s ridiculous story about him. however, we learn that ed is very vulnerable deep down, deals with trauma, and cries multiple times. he doesn’t like being this fearsome pirate all the time. although they come to see and appreciate each other more fully as their relationship grows, stede is initially so enamored by ed because as “blackbeard” he’s able to PERFORM masculinity so well, which stede finds himself just unable to do. and ed is initially so enamored with stede because he’s incapable of performing masculinity and just kind of lets all his quirks and less masculine qualities be expressed. ok this was super long hbo pls renew the show so i can STOP

#our flag means death #ofmd #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #blackstede #stede bonnet #ed teach #edward teach #the gentleman pirate #blackbeard #izzy hands #rhys darby #taika waititi

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darkpurpledawn · 3 years ago

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I’m reading every batjokes fic on Ao3 in ascending word count order. Here are my personal favorites and recs from 2k-5k!

Batch Brew by stuckoncloud9

This hysterical coffee shop AU is also Bruce/Riddler, Bruce/Scarecrow, and Bruce/Two-Face in addition to Bruce/Joker, but no matter who you ship Bats with it’s astonishingly delightful. One of my favorite characterizations of Bruce in all of fanfic.

contact high by venetianAnarchist

This fic is much loved for a reason, as it’s more or less the perfect porn-with-just-enough-plot. Extremely funny and manages to up the ante every paragraph.

The Bitterest Joke by Dracze

If your heart is too intact, you can find no better way to rip it to shreds than with this fic set in the Mother Panic Gotham AD comics. A grieving Joker endlessly bargains with an absent Batman, and it’s unforgettable. Pairs well with This Knife, Like Silence

Exactly What It Seems by Dracze

Lex Luthor and Joker hook up and Lex reveals as much to a mortified Batman, and the results are filled with laugh-aloud lines and a very entertaining Luthor POV.

green, the color of greed by distortopia

If the tag “Clownfucking Syndrome by Proxy” doesn’t lure you in I don’t know what will. A wonderful look at Bruce’s repressed desire that manages to have so much batjokes flavor even while Joker is technically absent.

high caliber by mitzvahmelting

Established relationship between characters who are always at each other’s throats can be difficult to pull off, but this fic imagining Joker bringing a gun to their bedroom really manages it with aplomb.

how glad i am you could not resist by harlequintessential

Incredible unfinished fic set during Arkham Knight in which a greiving, angry Bruce Wayne is tormented by the Joker he hears in his head. The writing is fantastic and the sense of unravelling is compellingly vivid.

More Than Enough by Dracze

A very sweet Christmas fic that still feels completely in-character, featuring a wacky and wonderful Joker POV and all the warm fuzziness you could want on a winter night.

The Neighborhood on the Other Side by DesdemonaKaylose

When Bruce gets hit with fear toxin, he and Joker share an intimate moment out of time. Really gorgeous writing and fantastic characterization.

Primal Cut by Vampowerment

An eerie and unsettling Joker story taking place after the end of Batman Endgame in which Joker lives a normal life as a butcher but still finds himself preoccupied with Batman. Creepy and captivating.

The Proposal by stuckoncloud9

THE batjokes happy ending, read it and shriek in glee

That Which Is Not Dead Can Eternal Lie by messageredacted

The Batman/Cthulhu mythos crossover you didn’t know you needed. Somehow, it works spectacularly.

this knife, like silence by distortopia

A kind of flipside to The Bitterest Joke mentioned above, this fic follows a Bruce whose Joker has simply disappeared without a trace...it will eviscerate your emotions. Have a pack of tissues on hand.

Wayne, Bruce Wayne by Naphorism

A James Bond AU for the Telltale verse that’s ridiculously fun and campy and true to character

You’re My Excuse to Travel by synthwave

Conveys what is possibly the most potent sense of longing ever put to page in fanfic, and does so with an exquisite blend of melancholy and gentle humor. It’s not overtly sad but it will make your heart ache.

#batjokes #batjokes fic recs #batjokes fics #batblogging #batjokes rec list #heed the tags and happy reading!

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teklarn · 3 years ago

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𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓬𝓻𝔂 𝓽𝓸𝓸, 𝓲𝓯 𝓲𝓽 𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾

character(s): izuku midoriya x gn!reader (x katsuki bakugou)

a/n: gosh i love angst (quick note!! i edit to the best of my ability, however it’s easy to miss things, and i type 100 words per minute, so im sorry if i miss some things!) this ain’t a poly relationship btw, i don’t feel like i could write that well (no shame to people who do!! personally i feel like i would butcher it)

reblogs are greatly appreciated!

based off the song: it’s my party by lesley gore

summary: y/n realizes going to katsuki bakugou’s wedding was a mistake

genre: angst all the way shawties

warnings: light cursing, heartbreak, alcohol, one-sided pining (reader), aged up/pro-hero au, sad reminiscing bc ahaha bakugou made us sad :’) and a crap load of references to the song, friend zoning (eesh)

word count: 2,566

ik yall are waiting for a part 2 of brutal and part 3 of you’re not my boyfriend but this idea just struck i had to get it down pls

- - -

“let’s raise a toast to our finest lovebirds, my best friend and his wife, katsuki bakugou and ochaco uraraka!” kirishima took a sip of champagne.

you lifted your beverage in unison with the others seated at your table but did not drink. you blinked down at the fizzing beverage.

“we wish you all the best,” kirishima said. “you and your best buds have no doubt you two’ll be known as some of the most indestructible symbols of peace.”

another wave of applause passed among the crowd. the last toast was finished and the music resumed. your entire table left you sitting. it wasn’t like you knew anyone here, anyways. nobody except for the few classmates bakugou was still in touch with.

those people consisted of izuku midoriya, who was sitting at the table across from you, as well as across the dance floor.

the lights twinkled up again, red, blue, and green flashing along the floor.

you couldn’t deny it. bakugou in a red suit, uraraka in a wedding dress fell just above her knees, a red bow tied around her waist. you did not doubt that if you were to be sold as a healthy person on the black market, that dress would still be worth more than you.

the only comfort you had was midoriya, who had greeted you when you came in, but the two of you had exchanged no further words. but he looked equally as miserable as you.

uraraka and bakugou were perfect together. they looked happy. and you were happy to see bakugou happy. happy to see uraraka happy with him.

bakugou dipped his newlywed wife to the beat of the music. her back arched perfectly into his large hands.

what hurts the most was that, while you wished it was you instead of her on that dance floor, you knew it wouldn’t work out.

not that you and bakugou wouldn’t have worked out. the two of you were a perfect couple!

what hurts the most was that it was a wish, and in every near universe, you still didn’t have that ring.

uravity and dynamight simply looked...happier.

you stormed out, shaking. why was your katsuki kissing her? holding her when it should have been you?

deep down, you knew you had no right. you and bakugou were barely a couple. throughout his years at yuuei, he’d calmed down immensely. so much that he could strike up a conversation with nearly everyone. as it turns out, introverted katsuki bakugou was a shameless flirt.

the two of you exchanged flitting glances from time to time, but it was never anything serious. at least to him, it wasn’t.

you knew he’d never taken the flirting seriously, and you also knew about his aching feelings for uraraka. how he covered his mouth whenever she walked by. how his voice raised just a bit, and how soft his eyes got.

you shouldn’t have been surprised. he never even hinted that he might have had romantic feelings for you.

the entire room erupted with applause as he kissed her. the katsuki bakugou, kissing someone? pfft, only in dreams.

for some, the dream would be good. like uraraka, who had shamelessly kissed him back.

for you, it was a complete nightmare.

the blaring music, the lights, the balloons, the ‘happy graduation class of 1-A!’

you drowned it all out. you curled your knees to your chest. you had no right to be hurt. not at all. they were his emotions. you had no control over them.

loneliness clouded over you. your chest screamed with longing. a longing to be held. be wanted by him.

you were alone. nobody was coming to comfort you. nobody was-

the door opened, clicking shut just as quickly. someone sniffled.

your eyes flicked up from your knees.

“y/n? i...i’m sorry, i had no idea anyone was out here...i can leave...”

“it’s alright, izuku.”

izuku took a swig from a bottle containing something much heavier than champagne.

that same tug in your chest came about. you were tired of seeing the billboards, the magazines. tired of seeing the unquestionably perfect relationship, perfect love bloom right before you.

dynamight and uravity this! dynamight and uravity that!

the music was loud enough, the lights were busy enough, and the people were ignorant enough to neglect your crying figure.

this was supposed to be my party. he loved me first.

“you okay?” you asked, swiping your nose.

izuku looked back at the graduation party. “no, y/n. i’m not.”

“then we’re both absolute shit.” you let him help you up. “why’re you crying?”

“just...just uraraka.”

“for me it’s just bakugou.”

just as bakugou had calmed down during his years at yuuei, izuku had earned a sense of sarcasm. “are they just oblivious or stupid?”

“goodness, izuku,” you joked, pressing a hand to your shuddering chest. “calling uraraka stupid?”

he gave you a sad side-smile. you listened in silence as the upbeat music played on.

“i guess we’re the stupid ones.” he sighed, chest heaving a little.

“i guess,” you agreed. he pulled you into a hug, and you let the tears flow. your sobs corrupted your chest as you curled into his arms. “why? why did it have to be her?”

“not all heroes end up happy, y/n.”

you looked up at him, eyes puffy, sniffling. “why can’t we be part of that small portion of heroes who are?”

izuku looked up, trying to neglect the water pooling in his own eyes. “i guess...well, not to be a narcissist—” he let out a breathy chuckle, “―but if you noticed, all the greatest heroes die with some kind of regret.”

“maybe i don’t want to be a good hero.” you ignored his efforts to lighten the mood.

“heroes don’t always get to choose whether they’ll be good or not. some things just happen.”

“i’m sorry, izuku.” you swiped at your eyes. “you’re hurt just as badly as me. i don’t want to make it—”

“hey.” izuku gently pried your hands away from your face, fingers ghosting over your wrists. his emerald eyes gleamed as they stared into yours. “don’t invalidate your feelings just because of me. we’re both hurting, but that doesn’t mean i won’t listen to you.”

your sobs came back again, and you fell into his chest.

bakugou spun uraraka, laughing gently as she twirled in his arms. his eyes lit up whenever he saw her. they twinkled. he sparkled. his smile was dazzling. and he was everything you never had.

you were a heartbroken mess, even after all these years. there was a list of all the reasons you were mad at him, and yourself.

your sobs were almost uncontrollable, and at this point, you were shocked nobody came to check on you. not that you cared very much. even if you were making a small effort to hide your face, it still would have been nice to feel a touch on your shoulder, someone perhaps shaking you gently to make sure you were awake.

not that you’d tell them what was wrong. you just wanted to know somebody cared, and to have the option to talk to somebody if you needed to do so.

but here you were. cheesy, upbeat fifties music echoed along the walls of the room. bakugou had secretly adored artists from back then, and you’d often catch him dancing and singing along to long-forgotten oldies.

if you weren’t his best friend, you would have blown off coming here and binge-watched ‘my best friend’s wedding’ and sobbed.

your head was down, forehead leaning on the backs of your forearms stacked upon each other. tears were streaming down, your shoulders shuddering with each weak breath sucked in and released.

until bakugou chose you, you had no reason to smile. at least not now. by no means were you desperate. love sometimes did that to people. made them look needy, look unwanted.

you’ve had plenty of options in the past, but the one person who you wanted didn’t want you back. didn’t even care.

since the graduation party, uraraka and you had been a bit tense. a part of her felt like she knew how you felt, and how bakugou mattered to you more than anyone in the world.

after the first year, she began abandoning izuku and ignoring his emotions towards her. after she and bakugou found each other, they had already known they would settle with one another.

you and izuku had never been close, but you were both good friends and were there when you needed one another.

he had walked you through your pain of senior year, and you’d helped him reach a lot of his goals, too. but bakugou just didn’t seem to care anymore. not even about becoming the number one hero. he looked at uraraka like she was his goal, his new dream, the reason he was happy. he looked at her and saw that he had the world in his hands and wanted to keep it that way.

you? you were pluto. exiled from the rest of the planets. exiled from the rest of his options, when you used to be his first.

“y/n?”

you and izuku backed away from each other. you’d both been crying for quite a bit. how long it had been, you were both unsure.

uraraka now stood at the door. you peeked into the window, leaning back a bit and catching glances of the blonde, who was currently being clapped on the back by his friends, congratulated for ‘getting the girl’.

“are you guys okay?’ uraraka asked.

“would you cry, uraraka?”

she tilted her head. “what?”

you pushed yourself off of izuku. “do you think you’d cry if you saw me kissing him, too?”

“what’re you―”

“you would cry, too! you would be sobbing!” you stabbed an accusatory finger at her. “you were my friend! you knew how i felt, and you’re kissing him?”

uraraka’s eyes widened. “i...i’m sorry. it all just happened, and i—”

“shut the hell up, uraraka. you ruined this party. for me and izuku.”

perhaps you went a bit far, but in your heart and your mind, you knew she deserved it. she knew. uraraka had known.

izuku gave uraraka a sympathetic look before pressing a hand to your back and leading you away.

it still came as a bit of a shock that uraraka had let bakugou invite you to their wedding. gosh. little, domestic bakugou, sealing invitations and batting his eyes at his oh-so-sweet wife so he could invite his best friend.

little domestic uraraka sweetly kissing her fiance on the cheek and pouting as she said, “how can i say no?”

it was disgusting, and everything you wanted to have with him.

you allowed yourself to be selfish this one time. after all, you deserved it. you’d endured hours of bakugou blabbering on about how sweet uraraka was. everything you weren’t.

you took the bottle to champagne. your ankles were aching as you stumbled out of the room. your vision blurred, becoming foggy with tears. not one person stopped you. you guessed because nobody noticed.

like graduation night, you slumped down right outside the doors to the party, the music, lights, and laughter muffled. the only difference was that you had a bottle of champagne and the man of your dreams was gone. for good, this time.

“i wish she noticed me. it was like, after first year, the uraraka i knew just vanished.”

you nodded. you and midoriya were wandering the streets, cool air brushing down your neck and on your face as cars passed.

“uraraka was so sweet, but she lost feelings so fast and...ugh.” midoriya ran a hand through his hair, ruffling his curls. “i’m still a bit...baffled. i know people change, but she and kacchan both switched up so fast.”

“i don’t want to say they’re jackasses, but they’re kind of jackasses.”

izuku rubbed your shoulder as you leaned on him while the two of you walked. “don’t say that.”

“sorry,” you breathed.

“no more being sorry. being sorry all the time leads to shit like this.”

you chuckled. “yeah, it does.” you sniffed. “did i take you away from the party? you can go back if you want.”

he shrugged. “’s all right. i don’t mind.”

“do you want to be here or would you rather be in there?”

“out here with you. i can’t be there right now.”

“me too.”

“let me guess.”

you looked up and scoffed softly.

“this was supposed to be your party?”

you nodded. “my party, my groom. i’m not supposed to be crying at my party, am i?”

your friend shook his head. “not at all. cheer up, y/n.”

izuku slid down the wall, sitting beside you. he rested his arms on his knees, twisting open his own bottle of champagne. “you look like a mess.”

“and you look like you need anger management.” you smiled.

he grinned back. “do i now?”

“yeah, you do. you should have seen yourself sitting there. all alone, the one person drinking something that wasn’t the fifty-thousand yen drinks.”

“54,795.75 yen, to be exact.”

you raised an eyebrow. “you’re insane. you kidding me? why do you know that?”

“i was the weird kid who took notes on everyone in the class. of course i would know this. i’m offended you think i wouldn’t.”

you tilted your head back in laughter. “gosh, izuku.”

“mhm.”

there was a pause. comfortable silence filled the space, broken by you sigh after gulping down your drink. “so they’re gone?”

“i’d rather not dwell on it.”

“how old are we now?”

izuku gave a breathy chuckle. “twenty-five.”

you smiled. “really, now? and i thought i would be married by now.”

“me too. ‘s a shame.”

“how about, if we’re both still not married by the time we’re forty, we get married to each other, adopt three children and we become hot parents.”

“three?”

“yeah, we can have a mini hero agency.”

“that’s horrifying. but i agree. having a mini hero agency would be pretty amazing.”

“i’m glad you agree with me, izuku.” you brushed a curl from his eyes.

“can’t wait until i’m forty,” he smirked.

“me neither.”

“maybe by then we would have forgotten all of this?”

“we’ll be fighting a villain, and we get our memories erased, and then we fall in love because we wake up beside each other in the hospital. we’re both equally confused.” you peppered him with jokes. “it’s a journey we will go on together.”

“can’t wait until my memory gets erased.”

“do you wanna get out of here?”

izuku shook his head. “it’s their wedding. we can’t. we shouldn’t.”

you gave him a silly look.

“you’re always such trouble, y/n.”

“if you hate it, then wipe that stupid grin off your face.”

izuku’s features softened. “maybe i like it. but only sometimes.” he took your head and lead you out, leaving his drink behind while you took yours.

a single tear rolled down your cheek. he didn’t erase all your pain, nor your feelings for bakugou. it wasn’t what you needed, no.

you just needed a friend. a real one. one that wouldn’t steal your dream from you. and that’s what you knew you had right now.

besides, things could happen in the future, right?

you smiled, and let the cold air touch your skin.

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dontcallmecarrie · 3 years ago

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In Endgame it seemed like the producers wanted Tony dying to be the only way he could be at peace. Like Pepper literally tells him 'Rest now', as if sacrificing himself to destroy the enemy that's been haunting him since Avengers 1 is the only ending where he can be happy.

"Sorry meant to add this to my ask (about Tony's death in Endgame being portrayed as his only possible happy ending): The whole thing makes me want to cry. And scream. Your opinion on what was being portrayed there?"

Friend, I...think you're more invested in this than I am, at this point. I'm not sure if you've noticed, but I have ranted at length about my feelings on everything related to the Marvel Cinematic Universe. [Note: those are only some of the highlights. There's plenty more— I'm not even including the whole "in an interview, the writers flat-out said they didn't like the characters" thing, even.]

Beyond that, the main thing you should know about me is the fact that I have very, very limited time and energy, and prefer to focus on things I enjoy over dwelling on things I know I'll hate. Because I've seen this road before, and it never ends well, and life's got enough bs without me piling on even more.

Am I going to be forever bitter about what went down? Yes. Am I never going to let go of the fact that the writers prioritized ticket sales over the age-old art of telling a good story and threw years' worth of effort down the drain in the process? Also yes. But I refuse to let it get to me.

The MCU lived in my head rent-free for a good chunk of my childhood and teenage years, and— yeah, I mourn for the potential it once had, but if I cling to the anger I feel about how the writers butchered everyone's character arcs and consistency for *drama*, I will never know rest.

If I let myself, I know I'm capable of being incandescent with rage over how they fridged the only woman in the original Avengers' Initiative, of the way they somehow managed to make Steve "I don't like bullies, also FUCK Nazis" Rogers into someone completely unrecognizable in the span of three movies, and—

I'm tired.

Look: you probably found this blog because of my most famous fic, The War is Far From Over Now. I started writing it because I needed at least one (1) world where Tony Stark got a happy ending for all the bs the MCU kept throwing at him [and only him], and if that meant making it myself, then so be it.

When I first started, I wasn't old enough to legally drink. Originally, it was supposed to be something short and sweet, something funny— but spite made it longer, and the readers' reception meant more inspiration to go into even more detail, and then it turned into a stress relief valve for all the shit that kept going down in my life.

[I try to keep personal life bs separate from my writing, but.

Shit went down.]

So, long story short: TWiFFON started out a fun thought exercise, but ended up becoming my love letter to what the MCU used to be— and later, a eulogy for the same.

Because over a decade of being invested in the world that turned my casual interest in the comics into something more concrete, only to watch as the audience was robbed of just about every sort of resolution there possibly could have been.

This isn't my first disappointment of this type, sure: Harry Potter was the book series I learned to read English with and I'd once thought the epilogue was as bad as things could get in that regard [...boy was I wrong], and Naruto and Bleach both managed to be incredibly ??? in their finales, but.

Of all of the things that made up so much of my childhood, my favorite character was Tony Stark.

The man who tried so, very hard to do his best, and kept getting beaten down for it time and time again. Who, by all rights, should have been the villain— either as the rich white guy who apparently can do nothing right [see: Iron Man 1 onwards], or simply because it makes no sense for him to be on the same side as the heroes who lied to his face and stabbed him in the neck or back time and time again [see: Iron Man 2 onwards, special mention for Avengers: Age of Ultron and Captain America: Civil War].

Who was both the Da Vinci and Cassandra of his generation, because for all his accomplishments, nobody ever took him seriously— and never even got an "I told you so", after shit hit the fan and everyone immediately turned to him for answers [see: Iron Man 3, Avengers: Age of Ultron, Infinity War, Endgame and need I go on?]

...I could go on for hours. But I won't.

If the writers won't give it this much thought, I won't either, not anymore.

Same way I refuse to watch another Marvel movie or tv show. I'd only barely been sticking around and gritting my teeth at the writing before Endgame, but that's the movie that made me ragequit the MCU entirely.

I've moved on, trying my hand at other fandoms and hobbies to occupy my brain when I'm not working or studying. At most, I have been poking at old cartoons and comics when I feel up to retreading old ground, but...right now, the main thing I feel when I think about the movies is disappointment.

#thinking aloud #I got an ask!#Naught replies #replies #Naught rants #sorry for the rant

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a-slut-for-smut · 3 years ago

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002 | for ereannie? ^^

OOO this is a good one! I actually been wanting to explore what draws me to this ship, so thanks for sending :D

002 | Send me a ship and I will tell you:

When I started shipping them:

Definitely that training scene where Annie wipes the fking floor with Eren- seriously when i saw that scene i was like OH HOHOHO N O I C E

Something about a woman so effortlessly handing an overconfident man his ass just tickles the ovaries so splendidly, ya know? i could (and will) dine on that scene for years to come, i mean, let's be honest- how could you not:

My thoughts:

Full disclosure i'm not a hardcore ereannie shipper (altho i do crush HARD on Annie) but this is my preferred pairing for each of them, especially from the start. I just love a ship dynamic where both characters plays a huge role in each other's development, shared parallels and shown to have a mutual respect for one another. Honestly, if Eren had shown even a fraction of respect he had for Annie to Mikasa it would have made the ending much more palatable for me. Also I am so WEAK for ships where the women could very easily whoop the man's ass, just love the power dynamics involved lol. Admittedly my fervor for the ship waned when Isayama in his infinite wisdom kept Annie stuck in a crystal for 84 years/out of the story, and with the Return to Shiganshina/Marley arc i bought into Erehisu/Eren's baby theory because...well, it made perfect sense given logical character motivations and their development.

What makes me happy about them:

My headcanon of how Annie will time and again beat the crap out of Eren and he freakin McLoves it (he asks for it honestly) XD

What makes me sad about them:

How they didn't have any interaction in the ending/Marley arc. And as with most characters in SNK, it was upsetting how their characters ended up, development-wise. Annie brought back more like an afterthought but had no real service to the plot and ultimately just becomes a female love interest in the end. Eren...jesus i dont even know where to begin so i wont lol

Things done in fanfic that annoys me:

I'll be honest- i haven't read exclusively ereannie fics, what ive read is usually them as a secondary ship in a RM fic. In this instance, I would say one thing i dont generally vibe with so much is infidelity/cheating- its not something i can condone in real life and i have a mutual respect kink so it kinda takes me out of a fic/hard for me to invest fully in that kind of story.

Things I look for in fanfic:

hot steamy smut! (with explicit consent of course)

My wishlist:

I really wish they had an explicit interaction in the end. To think how much Annie contributed to Eren's character (and vice versa) and not having them say one word to each other? What a waste. (i know he "supposedly" spoke to her in PATHS but that whole sequence seemed pretty ehhh/hand-wavey to me honestly). Even Annie having one line/POV during the titan fest brawl would have sufficed- "Eren...was this who you were all along? I could never imagine you could ever be capable of this..." etc etc

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other:

As i mentioned above, to me Eren with Historia made complete sense given how the manga was progressing/logical motivations/their shared parallels not to mention the character development potential for both was through the roof.

I really vibe with AnnieHitch and Mikannie- i love their dynamic with each other, respectively. I dont mind Aruani (even tho him visiting her alone repeatedly and her having no choice in the matter can come off a bit…creepy...but hey isayama’s warped sense of romance rears it’s questionable head again) BUT i love how Hitch calls him out on it XD

Anyway I think i'd like it better if Annie wasn't brought back to essentially become a female love interest :/

My happily ever after for them:

Honestly...just an ending where their characters aren't completely butchered *sighs*

Actually...on second thought an ending where Annie personally whoops Eren's ass into the next dimension/PATHs or whatever (and he thanks her for it comes to his senses) because i am a whore for those kind of scenes XD

Thanks again for the ask! Happy to answer more :)

#thanks for the ask!#ereani #ereannie #eren x annie #anti snk ending #ask game

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littledead-ridinghood · 2 years ago

Text

Either:

A. I can write one of the plethora of Jason metas I want to write

B. Start a fic that continues my “wow! How do we not know how you literally physically look like, Jason!” Series. Where, backing off the hetreochromia eye fic I posted a few months back, write about, this time, Jason hidden hair color(he would be BLOND because I don’t see enough reference to pre-crisis blond Jason and I will not be endorsing the red-headed step sibling trope) with probably subpar to bad dad Bruce, angst with a happy ending, and Jason leaving and feeling safe and happy away from the bats(because that’s a happy ending To Meeeeeeee)

Or C: hurt/comfort fic with Adult!Jason having a ptsd attack in relation to his mom’s death with good dad Bruce because, though, what my other fics and commentary may argue, I am, in fact, not a complete monster when it comes to their relationship and I, just like all of you, need serotonin for the soul. Would have flashbacks to Kid!Jason PTSD attack and would be throughly self indulgent because I want specific writing that no other fic can offer me

(Hidden option D: is reading more comics so I can write a multi-chapter arrowfam fic that has medic!Jason because I’ve been building this whole AU in my brain for months but no way in hell am I writing an OOC Ollie+Co. (soon I’ll be writing metas and headcanons about y’all sooooon)(I have the same problem with lanterns. I love y’all but give me 3 to 5 business months to grasp the characters so I don’t butcher them)

#why am I going off about reading more comics? it’s like an exchange #I don’t go there yet so the people that do go there; I don’t want to fuck up their environment #if y’all have an opinion…..

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adorethedistance · 4 years ago

Text

A Pretty Good Bad Idea - Owen Joyner x Reader

JATP masterlist

Warnings: swearing, peer pressure kinda, very mild n fluffy

Words: 1865

Summary: Touring with the Julie and The Phantoms cast as a dancer has been the best time of your life, and the only thing that could make it better is the reciprocated affections of a cute, blond drummer.

A/N: So this piece is 1) inspired by this interview and 2) entirely self indulgent. It’s something I haven’t been able to get out of my mind every time I’m doing warm ups, and putting it down on ,, digital paper is my only way to get rid of it lmao. I hope y’all enjoy bc I know this scenario makes me really happy and I love sharing my joy with y’all.

I let out an involuntary whine when I roll forward into my almost-center splits. My hips are so sore from yesterday’s performance I had to force myself to start stretching in the first place. Getting a head start, I arrived at the concert venue an hour earlier than call time to get my lengthy stretching routine out of the way before the other girls show up. Slowly but surely, the rest of the dancers arrived and we began getting ready together.

“I have a speaker!” Tori announces to the room upon entering which makes me jump up from my seat.

“Yes! May I do the honors and bless y’all with my musical theatre playlist?” The rest of the group cheers, exposing themselves for the theatre kids that we are. After hearing the chime that signifies the speaker-phone pairing, a few seconds pass before “Cell Block Tango” begins to play. The entire group feigns outrage but we know all the words and soon indulge in such shameful pandering. A good pre-show playlist is what really gets me amped up for performing and after yesterday’s queue of ‘today’s hits’ pop, the musical theatre is a nice change of pace.

Since I’d gotten here so early, I decided to do my makeup before stretching and I still had time to spare. The only thing left for me to do was to get in costume but I’d wait until a little closer to showtime so that I could still eat and drink for the time being. This also meant I was free to roam and bother other people as they got ready, doing what I’d done almost an hour ago.

“So, Y/n?”

“Hm?”

“What’s going on with you and Owen?” I feel my breathing halt for a microsecond before looking up at, one of the other dancers and also my friend, Ella. My eyebrows are cinched in confusion as I try my best to figure out what it is she’s getting at.

“I don’t know, Ella. What is going on with me and Owen?”

“Oh come on. Your Instagram story from yesterday?” Oh. That.

“We just went to lunch?” I seemingly ask more than state.

“Yeah. Just the two of you. Don’t hold out on us, we wanna know what’s going on!”

“Really, Ella, there’s nothing going on. We’re just getting to know each other better.”

“Just getting to know each other better? Or getting to know each other better?” Tori butts in, dusting her cheeks with a subtle highlight.

“The first one?”

“How many times have you hung out?”

“Just the once.”

“Are you planning another date?”

“It wasn’t a date-”

“Do you want us to help wingman you?”

“I really don’t-”

“Hey.” The rapid-fire of questions cease when the gang of us look up to see Owen himself standing in the doorway.

“Speak of the devil,” Tori snickers as the rest of the girls slowly disperse and smugly resume doing their makeup. Owen makes a face in reaction to her comment but chooses not to pry.

“Could I borrow some hairspray? This one piece of hair won’t stay.” Despite each of the girls having a full can of hairspray on hand, nobody makes a move to give him the product, indicating that I should be the one to help him out. Rolling my eyes at the look Ella is giving me through the mirror, I stand from my chair and hand Owen the can of hairspray. He then looks straight ahead and moves to use the product but I stop him before he can.

“What’s your plan?”

“What?”

“Are you just gonna spray the piece?”

“...yeah?”

“That’s not gonna work since the rest of your hair already has product in it. Can I help you?” Owen nods amiably and takes a seat after I gesture for him to sit in my chair. I then realize my mistake as I need the comb on the grey countertop, and have to consequently reach past Owen in a way that wouldn’t be so compromising had I not worn such a low-cut top. Thankfully it’s over as fast as it began, and walking to the sink in the corner of the dressing room, I run the cool water over the bristles. It isn’t until I turn off the tap that I notice how eerily quiet the room had gotten. None of the girls are talking, attentively studying my every move as I cross back to Owen.

“Is this Chicago?”

“Uh, yeah, We’re listening to my musical theatre playlist though, not the whole soundtrack,” I respond in spite of the nervous laugh that falls from my lips. The slight slouch in Owen’s posture doesn’t help me to see what I’m doing clearly enough. Using my index finger and an upturned palm, I tilt his chin up to get a better look at his hair, willfully ignoring the fact that he’s staring at me right now.

Still, silence fills the room as I take the wet comb through the front section of his hair where the stubborn strand won’t stay put. Once the water binds the pieces together, I grab my can of hairspray and struggle to uncap it. The outside is slick from god knows what, but thankfully Owen doesn’t let me struggle anymore and holds up his hands to wordlessly offer his help. I hand him the can, and he pops the top off after barely struggling. Handing the can back to me, he holds onto the lid, and the entire exchange remains completely silent.

I have to work quickly in my next step, but it’s not enough to distract from the fact that everyone in the room is watching me intently. Holding the aerosol can away from the crowd of people, I put some of the product on the comb and quickly work it into Owen’s hair while it’s still wet. Once the comb has formed his hair to my liking, I stop brushing it through in fear of the now dry hairspray ruining the shape. Then, I use my left hand to shield Owen’s eyes from getting any product in them before spraying the offending area to seal in my hard work.

The sound of a cell door sliding closed signifies the end of the song, and I wait for a second, eagerly anticipating the next song to play. Upon hearing the staccato piano notes of “Bad Idea” from Waitress, a smile appears on my face.

“I love this song.” Lunging back on my right leg, I create a little distance between us to make sure I didn’t completely butcher the rest of his hair, singing as I do.

“It’s a bad idea, me and you.”

“I know, I totally agree.” Pleasantly surprised by his joining in, my smile grows bigger.

“It’s a bad idea, me and you.”

“I’ve never known anything so true-”

“It’s a terrible idea, me and you.” The effortlessness that the two of us find in harmonizing is a genuine shock and an absolute thrill all at once. Once Owen sees how excited I am by his joining in me, it’s like a switch had been flipped; the two of us immediately slip into Actor Mode and begin to sing the song as if we were performing it on a Broadway stage.

“You have a wife.” I take a small step back out of the character’s hesitation.

“You have a husband.” Owen mirrors my action.

“You’re my doctor-” I cross my arms across my chest, but release my right hand to gesture to Owen standing in front of me.

“You’ve got a baby coming-” He uses both hands to gesture back to me in my ‘pregnant’ state.

“It’s a bad idea, me and you,” the two of us turn slightly away from facing one another in false bashfulness. When the music picks up, the two of us avidly step toward one another to come together. In perfect synchronization, I grab Owen’s forearms and his hands face upwards to hold onto my elbows.

“Let’s just keep kissing ‘til we come to.”

“Heart, stop racing, let’s face it-” Owen pivots his step out to the side to face forward, extending his right arm which cues me to turn into him and take his other hand to spin out.

“Making mistakes like this will make worse what is already pretty bad.” Then he extends his right arm forward, and I turn into him once again.

“Mind, stop running. It’s time we just let this thing go.” Instead of spinning out again, I stop in front of him where he wraps both of his arms around me.

“It was a pretty good bad idea,” in our harmony I cast my gaze upward to see Owen staring right back down at me, and I feel like I’m seeing stars, “Wasn’t it though?”

The two of us continue dancing and singing with one another as if the rest of the world doesn’t exist. It’s only the two of us, here and now. The other girls in the room don’t miss the way I seem to smile like never before, and I sure as hell don’t miss the way my stomach fills with butterflies. When he holds me so close and dear for each intimate moment of the song, I’m seeing stars. A bold happiness consumes me, the same happiness I felt when Owen and I laughed over lunch in that small pizzeria.

The final harmony draws the song to a close and when it finishes, the two of us fall into a breathless kind of laughter.

“I didn’t take a big enough breath for that last part.”

“Me neither.”

“Your hair stayed intact.”

“I must have a pretty good stylist.”

After recovering from our laughter the two of us wind up in a palpable stupor as we stare into one another’s eyes. A few blinks and my trance is broken, I become aware of our surroundings.

“I should get dressed soon, and you definitely need to get dressed.” Owen nods still somewhat breathless.

“Yeah. See you later for pulse?”

“Save me a spot,” I joke as he backs out of the threshold of our dressing room. Leaning against the doorframe I watch him disappear into his assigned dressing room with a small smile still lingering on my features.

“Just getting to know each other my ass!”

“What the heck was that?”

“Are you sure you don’t want us to wingman you?”

“Do you even need a wingman after something like that?”

Turning on my heel, I face the bunch of insatiable dancers and shake my head in disbelief.

“We were just acting, you guys.”

“Liar.”

“Excuse me?”

“Maybe you were acting, but he sure as hell wasn’t. Did you see the way he was looking at you? He is totally in love with you.” Ella shakes me by my shoulders.

“He’s just a really good performer is all.”

“When is your next date?” she completely ignores me.

“Okay-”

“Oh, and I want to be the maid of honor at your wedding-”

“It was just a song, Ella.”

“-Oh my god you guys are gonna have the cutest kids! I mean, your hair with his eyes and cheekbones? Ahh! The cutest.”

***

A/n: the way that being on tour isn’t the most unrealistic part of this fic, but instead Owen actually knowing the lyrics is? Work diva.

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