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cyphersuna · 4 years ago

Text

1. HUMAN DOGS

pairing: isaac lahey x fem!reader!mikaelson (Slow burn), derek hale x ex-lover!reader, mcCall pack x platonic!reader, original family x sister!reader, stiles stilinski x platonic!reader (at the moment)

sypnosis; Y/N Mikaelson arrives in a small town with the hope of becoming independent and having a new life but a near accident will turn her plans around and risk them knowing who he is.

Has the war of Original Vampires and Wolves started?

The smallest of the Mikealsons, will she be with a wolf?

Will Isaac accept Y/N?

warnings; none

author’s note: hello baeess, welcome to a new #saturdayofyouaremikaelson!!! I only hope you enjoy this chapter because your emotion excites me and if your emotion excites me, I will be excited to do more chapters to excite you. see you next week 😺

Word count; 1.7k

ﾟ･ 🌌ރ ੈ♡‧₊˚🎲 *ૢ✧ ۪ ♟️ ° ｡

YOU WERE ENTERING Beacon Hills while looking at the forest around you which looked spooky, possibly because it was night or they were infested with those human dogs. Possibly both. You still remember the faces of Niklaus, Kol and Elijah knowing that you would live here. You think it was the best thing in the world, but you get it. That your sister, the youngest of the Mikaelson clan, decides to move alone, with no one from her family nearby and in a "city" full of dogs. You would also worry.

It began to be heard on the radio lurk from the neighborhood to which you began to hum it. This century was very different: 16-year-olds look like 18 or 19, their type of clothing... You did not complain, it is better than the clothes of before.

Six teens and two adults appeared out of nowhere to which you stopped. You got out of the car and they watched you from head to toe. One in particular made your blood run cold. Derek Hale...

You sighed and spoke.

"Forgiveness! Are you okay?" You asked, and the bearded one came up to you.

"What are you doing here?" He asks and you start to breathe. Human dogs have to hear it and feel it so they know that you are not something supernatural. Speaking of that title, it's the best series and more daddy Dean. You pulled myself out of your thoughts and looked from left to right to fix your gaze on the dark haired man.

"Me?" He nodded. "Sorry. Do I know you?"

"Don't act, Mikaelson," he snap at and Peter comes closer to both of you. The Good Peter, he was more your brother than the ones you have, well not so much like that but he was like a brother.

"I think you're wrong" you say to see him in the eyes. "My name is not like that" you say playing stupid, well! When you don't? Coming here you thought that Derek and Peter would leave and more because of what happened to his sister who did not doubt that Peter would kill her. But just in case you knew you would have to change your first and last name.

"It's not a name," says the older of the two raising an eyebrow. "What's your name?" He ask.

"Diane Jones" you say pretending to be a little scared. You saw how Derek would glare at you deadly and the teens stared at the scene in confusion. Wow! The redhead's shoes were fantastic.

"What brings you to Beacon Hills?" Asked Peter.

"I came to live here" you respond.

"Alone?" Said the one with black hair, super furious. He looked sexier like that. "Without your parents?"

"Excuse me, but I don't have to tell you anything" You walked back and Derek took your arm tightly and the children approached looking worried.

"You won't leave until you answer." Peter put his hand on Derek's shoulder with a "calm down" look

"And your parents?" He asks calmly.

"I do not have. I'm an orphan" you say looking at your feet. Seriously, you deserve an Oscar for best actress.

"How did you get here?" Peter still asked.

"My uncles sent me here to study and not cause problems" you say looking at Peter.

"Don't li-" Derek says to be interrupted.

"It's not her" said Peter. "Listen" as you said, breathing helps and more if it is accelerated when you feel threatened.

"Can I go?" You asked.

"Yes" Peter says. You walked to your car and your turned it on to continue on your way, when you saw that you were far away you start to laugh. Derek's faces and the wolf children, the banshee, and the humans were gold.

You arrived at your new home. You smiled when you saw that it was normal, not big and not too small. A normal house. It was supposed to be furnished since yesterday. You got out of your car and opened to see the living room, you closed the door and walked into the kitchen and up the stairs. You went into all the rooms and they were perfect and yours was much more.

It was big, being a Mikaelson it couldn't be small. You were already beginning to miss them. Well not all. Elijah and Rebekah's overproduction were suffocating. Also you will no longer be listening "little Klaus" or "little Kol" You're not like them, you just like to have fun. And you like being with them more. Kol and you, hunted and had fun at parties and flirting with people. Klaus gave you life lessons. You were amused by his stories and how could he be so... him. Of your seven siblings, you only loved Kol and Klaus, of course you had your differences: you were friends with Katherine and Klaus hates her, you love the Salvatore brothers with your life and they detest them, even more. You lay down on the bed and you smiled a smile that only bring problems.

Isaac Lahey Pov

"It was her," Derek says, somehow I felt concern and more to see how he reacted when he saw the girl as our age.

"Who is she?" Scott ask.

"Y/N Mikaelson" Peter said calmly.

"And she is...?" Stiles question them.

"She is one of the Originals and Derek's great love," Peter replies.

"Original of what?" Lydia ask.

"From the Original Vampires," Derek says angrily.

"They exist?" Almost all of us say at the same time.

"Yes. And between them the two hybrid of Vampire and werewolf" explains Peter.

"What is a hybrid?" Allison ask to which Stiles responds.

"Hybrids are a supernatural cross between two or more different species. The term is commonly used to describe a werewolf turned vampire, as they were the first type of hybrid introduced to the world. However, since the creation of the werewolf-vampire hybrids, there have been other hybrids of other races in the universe, such as siphons turned into witch-vampire hybrids, werewolf-witch hybrids, among others" he says to finish.

"How do you know that?" Asks Scott.

"I read it when I was trying to find out what you were, but I thought the vampire thing was a lie," Stiles responds.

"A hybrid is more lethal than any werewolf or vampire" Says Derek. "Nature does not tolerate such an imbalance of power. Thus, the warlocks, the servants of nature, saw to it that the wolfish side of Klaus and Y/N Mikaelson are asleep. But they are still a danger.

"Who are the Mikaelsons?" I ask.

"The Mikaelson family is a powerful family whose line goes back at least to the Kingdom of Norway in the late 10th century with Mikael and Esther, a wealthy landowner and a Viking warrior, and a housewife and a witch, respectively. In the early 11th century, the family was deadly until the loss of Esther and Mikael's seventh child, Henrik to a werewolf attack that spurred them to use Esther's magic to turn Mikael and the rest of their living children into the The world's first vampires, from whom all Vampires are descended from the original vampires, are known as the most powerful supernatural beings in the world, but the Mikaelson family is also known to have members who are also witches and hybrids. Among them are two hybrids: Klaus and Y/N. In total the Mikaelsons are eight; Mikael, the father, Esther, the mother, Freya, The first daughter which is only a witch and does not belong to the original lineage, Finn, The second son, Elijah, the third son, Klaus, the fourth son which is the hybrid and is not the son of Mikael but bears his last name, Kol, the fifth son, Rebekah, the sixth daughter, Y/N, the seventh daughter which is not the daughter of Mikael and the last, Henrik, the eighth son. Of these eight only are alive: Freya, Elijah, Klaus, Kol, Rebekah and Y/N" Derek answers.

''They wasted no time," Stiles says.

"Neither is Esther. Children of different parents" I say smiling. "But how did "first hybrids" happen?

"When Klaus and Y/N first killed after being turned into vampires, they triggered their werewolf gene, which finally reveals the truth of their true paternity to their family: Klaus and Y/N were not Mikael's children but the boss's children of her village werewolf clan, with whom Esther had an affair. Once Mikael learned of Esther's infidelity and realized that her lover's pack were the werewolves who killed Henrik, Mikael hunted down and killed Klaus and Y/N's father and his entire family, igniting a war. Between vampires and werewolves that still exists. Shortly after the Mikaelsons became vampires and learned of Klaus and Y/N werewolves' legacy, Esther was forced to curse Klaus and Y/N to make their werewolf natures lie dormant, so that they didn't bother yet. More to nature by possessing so much power. However, Klaus and Y/N felt betrayed by this punishment, and in retaliation, Klaus murdered his mother and framed Mikael for the act. Understood?" Peter asks and I nod.

"I'm more than sure it's her!" Derek exclaims.

"It has to be her, if you questioned her or just stopped...-Lydia says to be interrupted by Peter.

"It's her Doppelgänger..."

Y/N Mikaelson Pov

You got out of the tub while you were dripping to grab the towel and start drying off. Tomorrow would be your first day in high school, you had never attended one and according to Caroline and Stefan they are very good, also Rebekah go into one and she looks older than you. You wrapped the towel around your body and left the bathroom to go to your room. You dropped the towel while you felt the air all over your body, you took off your underwear from the wardrobe and then put on a loose shirt and some pajama shorts. You go down to the kitchen for some whiskey and you go back upstairs. You arranged your things for tomorrow and left them arranged so that you only had to go...

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katzkinder · 3 years ago

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(multiple linked image references throughout this post)

Ok, so I loved this post

The part that got me though was when you said “I wonder what type of animal form they take factors into that” - that’s where the gears in my head started turnin’

So I went snooping on each animal counterpart associated with each sin.

1.) SLOTH: are cats sensitive to cold?

So Kuro isn’t JUST a neet that prefers blankets or a kotatsu over the cold… his animal form being a cat does play some part… key word beings some

“Cats are pretty well adapted for cold weather, but when the temperature dips below freezing they are susceptible to hypothermia and frostbite. During periods of cold weather, cats will go looking for a warm place to hunker down. How cold is too cold for indoor cats? Cats prefer warmth but will be okay in rooms hovering between 50-60°F degrees; while their counterparts Lions, in a zoo environment, stay outside in the winter unless the temperature dips below 40°F (in the wild, most lions don’t have to worry about temperatures dropping below 65°F so in most cases 40°F and below is too cold).”

SLOTH SENSATIVE TO COLD? ✅ (yes)

2.) PRIDE: are bats sensitive to cold?

“Bats can't survive freezing temperatures, even when they're hibernating. Any roost bats shelter in for the winter must be at least 45°F or warmer. They also seek out dark, secluded, and sheltered places that can keep them safe from predators. Bats are defenseless while they're hibernating.”

PRIDE SENSATIVE TO COLD? ✅ (yes)

3.) ENVY: are snakes sensitive to cold?

Jeje being a snake is pretty much a given… but it’d be mean to not include him (so no funny ideas outta you, ok Mikuni?)

“What is the coldest temperature a snake can withstand? Snakes usually stay out of cold climates. Because the coldest temperature any snake can thrive in is around 65°F, snakes normally live in the warmer temperate or tropical zones. Below 60°F, snakes become sluggish. Above 95°F, snakes become overheated.”

ENVY SENSATIVE TO COLD? ✅ (yes)

4.) WRATH: are wolves sensitive to cold?

“Wolves don't need to do anything. They're much better adapted to cold weather than we are. Thanks to their winter adaptations, wolves can live in temperatures as low as -40°F. During the coldest nights, a wolf will curl itself into a ball, covering its nose with its tail, which will hold the exhaled warm air over its feet and nose, conserving precious body heat. It will also sleep close to its pack-mates(her Eve) in a unified effort to stay warm.”

WRATH SENSATIVE TO COLD? ♾ (neutral-ish)

5.) GREED: are hedgehogs sensitive to cold?

“Hedgehogs getting cold is a BIG ‘No no’. It slows their metabolism down, leaving them susceptible to infections, dehydration and starvation. It's important to keep your hedgehog in an environment between 72-80°F. Even if it’s not always comfortable for us humans (comfortable for angels? no clue), temperatures lower than 70°F are considered ‘cold’ for hedgehogs and can result in a hibernation attempt, which can be fatal.”

Maybe that’s why Lawless always wears that scarf? Since hedgehogs are severely thermally sensitive then it would make sense…

(Crantz, Gil… please stop the angel from getting any ideas)

GREED SENSITIVE TO COLD? ✅ (yes)

6.) GLUTTONY: are pigs sensitive to cold?

In this case I will refer mostly to Vietnamese Potbellied Pigs because as far as I know, we haven’t actually seen Ildio’s pig form yet - one of the only depictions is Lawless’ stage depictions of the 7 vampire siblings in ep6… and based on his stage depiction of Ildio’s pig form, Viatnamese Vietnamese Miniature Potbellied Pigs seem like they’d be the common type of pig that seems to fit that shape/size.

“The ideal temperature range for a potbelly pig is 65-88°F. Pigs in winter do not need any type of supplemental heat down to at least -20°F. Most potbelly pigs require more feed to maintain heat production and body condition; meaning that housing aside, the more feed/calorie intake, the easier it can be for pigs to regulate their body heat.”

However, seeing as Ildio is an ageless vampire with the mother-effing holy grail of metabolisms, we don’t know if his MASSIVE calorie intake, that he doesn’t really gain much/any weight from, will actually help him in cold weather.

GLUTTONY SENSATIVE TO COLD? ♾❔(neutral/unknown where they stand exactly)

7.) LUST: are butterflies sensitive to cold?

Snow Lily’s butterfly appearance is probably one of the most exaggerated of the 8 servamp animal forms. That gorgeous shade of pink and black aside, I couldn’t find any real buttwrfly species with that wing pattern or wings shaped like that. So color and wing pattern aside, I’d say the closest real-world butterfly to Snow Lily would be a variation of Swallowtail Butterfly.

Butterflies are cold-blooded critters, however, generally speaking butterflies won't fly when temperatures are less than 55-60°F.

LUST SENSATIVE TO COLD? ✅ (yes)

8.) MELANCHOLY: are foxes sensitive to cold?

Even though Tsubaki’s two tails seem to be a play of of the legends of Nine Tail Fox, generally speaking based off his other details being black fox with white on the end of his tail(s), he is most likely a Silver Fox; which is a type of Red Fox.

The upper critical temperature of the red fox is probably between 86-89°F. An official temperature range of what is too cold for red foxes is more or less unknown or unofficial at best. The arctic fox is said to be able to tolerate temperatures as low as -72°F but red foxes haven’t occupied the tundra in the past partly because it was too cold; with their longer ears and limbs, they lose heat faster than their arctic cousins. So we know the average red fox can tolerate and survive cold temperatures, but most likely not temperatures like their arctic counterparts live in.

MELANCHOLY SENSATIVE TO COLD? ♾❔❌ (neutral/unknown where they stand exactly/least affected of the bunch)

and after ALL OF THAT…

the most interesting thing is–

when I first got into SERVAMP, I remember being curious where the concept of ‘the different sins transforming into animal forms’ came from. After a little research, I found that there is a history to it! A very detailed account of the origins and representations of them within history. And a small portion discusses the animal depictions of the original 7 deadly sins⬇️

“An allegorical image depicting the human heart subject to the seven deadly sins, each represented by an animal (clockwise: Toad = Avarice [greed]; Snake = Envy; Lion = Wrath; Snail = Sloth; Pig = Gluttony; Goat = Lust why? I have no idea; Peacock = Pride).”

So Jeje and Ildio’s animal forms are the only ones true to the original depictions of their associated sins.

Pride as a peacock does make sense… but I can understand adding the bat into the mix because - vampires.

I get why they’d change Kuro to a cat instead of a snail because I can’t see a snail being threatening at all unless it’s either severely poisonous or Gary… like, supernatural vampire powers or not, Kuro as a snail wouldn’t be very badass.

Why the ever living f*ck would a goat reprint lust? Originally I was going with the possibility that goat could be related to ram, ram represents Aries, Aries is one of the most lustful zodiac personalities… but no, apparently the goat represents the Devil, lust, lubricity and the damned… so that’s fun - I prefer the butterfly thank you very much.

Apparently frogs symbolize greed because it is a greedy creature in desiring to live in both worlds- on the land & in the water… okay I guess?

& lastly even though the Lion role is also occupied by Kuro within the series, I can understand Wrath not maintaining the original Lion role swing as Wrath is female and they probably wanted a male to hold the depiction of Lion so that the could use the lion’s mane, again, to add to the badass factor… regardless I don’t think Wrath as a lioness would have played out the same way… is it sexist when referring to animals? Whatever - that’s a question for another day.

If you’re interested, the full article can be found here

I am so sorry this random rant turned out WAAAAAAAY longer than I originally intended… I always love your analysis and theory posts so I hope you enjoy :)

YOOO ANON, THAT’S AWESOME! I’ll definitely check that article out!

In return, have this!

We know what piggy ‘dio looks like now! :D

Hopefully this will make your research a little easier?

#servamp #kat’s katerwauling #asks #anonymous #servamp analysis #thanks for the ask nonny!!#tumblr didn’t want to publish this so I just gave up and went to mobile #long post

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agentrouka-blog · 4 years ago

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Can you please give your opinion on Dany n missendei relationship in books? It's much more complicated than show n both characters are young.

So, Missandei. I don’t think about her a LOT but there was a connection to a theme that struck me when I compared her to the Stark sisters and it points to a relationship that is, let’s say, very different from what the tv show chose to do.

Long. Many quotes.

Preface: The talking bird – a lady’s armor – “Valar Morghulis”

I am always specifically reminded of Missandei when I read this Sansa passage.

Sansa could not bear the sight of him, he frightened her so, yet she had been raised in all the ways of courtesy. A true lady would not notice his face, she told herself. “You rode gallantly today, Ser Sandor,” she made herself say.

(…)

He was mocking her, she realized. “No one could withstand him,” she managed at last, proud of herself. It was no lie.

Sandor Clegane stopped suddenly in the middle of a dark and empty field. She had no choice but to stop beside him. "Some septa trained you well. You're like one of those birds from the Summer Isles, aren't you? A pretty little talking bird, repeating all the pretty little words they taught you to recite." (AGOT; Sansa II)

A bird from the Summer Isles, repeating words.

The concept of courtesy is a lady’s armor is tied to the idea of the talking bird. (Leaving out the obvious talking raven at the Wall for this, because I don’t see Missandei tied to the magical arc. I see her tied to the political one.)

The phrase “courtesy is a lady’s armor” shows up four times:

Sansa felt that she ought to say something. What was it that Septa Mordane used to tell her? A lady's armor is courtesy, that was it. She donned her armor and said, "I'm sorry my lady mother took you captive, my lord." (ACOK, Sansa I)

and

Sansa felt dizzy; one instant her head was full of dreams of Loras, and the next they had all been snatched away. Willas? Willas? "I," she said stupidly. Courtesy is a lady's armor. You must not offend them, be careful what you say. "I do not know Ser Willas. I have never had the pleasure, my lady. Is he . . . is he as great a knight as his brothers?" (ASOS, Sansa I)

and

“How old are you, Sansa?” asked Tyrion, after a moment. “Thirteen,” she said, “when the moon turns.” “Gods have mercy.” The dwarf took another swallow of wine. “Well, talk won’t make you older. Shall we get on with this, my lady? If it please you?” “It will please me to please my lord husband.” That seemed to anger him. “You hide behind courtesy as if it were a castle wall.” “Courtesy is a lady’s armor,” Sansa said. Her septa had always told her that. “I am your husband. You can take off your armor now.” “And my clothing?” “That too.” He waved his wine cup at her. “My lord father has commanded me to consummate this marriage.” (ASOS, Sansa III)

and

A lady's armor is her courtesy. Alayne could feel the blood rushing to her face. No tears, she prayed. Please, please, I must not cry. "As you wish, ser. And now if you will excuse me, Littlefinger's bastard must find her lord father and let him know that you have come, so we can begin the tourney on the morrow." And may your horse stumble, Harry the Heir, so you fall on your stupid head in your first tilt. She showed the Waynwoods a stone face as they blurted out awkward apologies for their companion. When they were done she turned and fled. (TWOW, Alayne)

So here we have a theme that ties the talking bird to something you were taught by a mentor, to lying, flattering, evading offense in a situation of powerlessness. To evading harm by hiding your true emotions.

So keep that theme of the lady’s armor in mind before we get to Missandei herself.

But there is another pattern of repeated words, and another Stark Sister with clear parallels to Missandei.

"As well ask what good is life, what good is death? If the day comes when you would find me again, give that coin to any man from Braavos, and say these words to him—valar morghulis."

"Valar morghulis," Arya repeated. It wasn't hard. Her fingers closed tight over the coin. Across the yard, she could hear men dying. "Please don't go, Jaqen."

"Jaqen is as dead as Arry," he said sadly, "and I have promises to keep. Valar morghulis, Arya Stark. Say it again."

"Valar morghulis," she said once more, and the stranger in Jaqen's clothes bowed to her and stalked off through the darkness, cloak swirling. She was alone with the dead men. They deserved to die, Arya told herself, remembering all those Ser Amory Lorch had killed at the holdfast by the lake.

The cellars under Kingspyre were empty when she returned to her bed of straw. She whispered her names to her pillow, and when she was done she added, "Valar morghulis," in a small soft voice, wondering what it meant. (ACOK, Arya IX)

Words by a mentor. The phrase becomes a mantra, it is repeatedly tied to her revenge name list and Jaqen’s iron coin and being unafraid. But she never learns what it means until Braavos. She is merely repeating the words, devoid of meaning. Parroting, the same way Sandor accuses Sansa of doing. But like with Sansa, the action serves to strengthen her.

"Valar morghulis," she told the old gods of the north. She liked how the words sounded when she said them. (ACOK, Arya X)

And..

She was only ten, a skinny girl on a stolen horse with a dark forest ahead of her and men behind who would gladly cut off her feet. Yet somehow she felt calmer than she ever had in Harrenhal. The rain had washed the guard's blood off her fingers, she wore a sword across her back, wolves were prowling through the dark like lean grey shadows, and Arya Stark was unafraid. Fear cuts deeper than swords, she whispered under her breath, the words that Syrio Forel had taught her, and Jaqen's words too, valar morghulis. (ASOS, Arya I)

And..

The captain turned it over and blinked at it, then looked at her again. "This . . . how . . . ?"

Jaqen said to say the words too. Arya crossed her arms against her chest. "Valar morghulis," she said, as loud as if she'd known what it meant. (ASOS, Arya XIII)

In Braavos, Arya begins to learn Braavosi, a variant of Valyrian. She becomes a multi-lingual servant in the House of Black and White, tasked with becoming no one, but always secretly being Arya Stark inside. A different kind of armor, a different kind of flying creature. Always playing a role.

Not Randomly:

Archmaester Ebrose, who has made a study of all known accounts of the affliction, believes that it is spread by the butterflies that the Peaceful People revere. For this reason, the disease is oft called butterfly fever. Some believe the fever is carried only by one particular sort of butterfly (a large black-and-white variety with wings as big as a man's hand is favored by Ebrose), but this remains conjecture.

Whether the butterflies of Naath are true handmaids of the Lord of Harmony, or no more than common insects like their cousins in the Seven Kingdoms, it may well be that the Naathi are not wrong in regarding them as guardians. (The World of Ice and Fire – Beyond the Free Cities: Naath)

So we have a connection to a lovely but deadly creature of black and white and Naath. A handmaid. A guardian. Let us keep that in mind, also.

Now let us look at Dany and Missandei directly.

This is how Missandei is introduced to us in ASOS, Daenerys II, when she negotiates for the Unsullied.

“Tell the Westerosi whore to lower her eyes,” the slaver Kraznys mo Nakloz complained to the slave girl who spoke for him. “I deal in meat, not metal. The bronze is not for sale. Tell her to look at the soldiers. Even the dim purple eyes of a sunset savage can see how magnificent my creatures are, surely.”

Kraznys’s High Valyrian was twisted and thickened by the characteristic growl of Ghis, and flavored here and there with words of slaver argot. Dany understood him well enough, but she smiled and looked blankly at the slave girl, as if wondering what he might have said.

“The Good Master Kraznys asks, are they not magnificent?” The girl spoke the Common Tongue well, for one who had never been to Westeros. No older than ten, she had the round flat face, dusky skin, and golden eyes of Naath. The Peaceful People, her folk were called. All agreed that they made the best slaves.

“They might be adequate to my needs,” Dany answered. It had been Ser Jorah’s suggestion that she speak only Dothraki and the Common Tongue while in Astapor. My bear is more clever than he looks. “Tell me of their training.”

“The Westerosi woman is pleased with them, but speaks no praise, to keep the price down,” the translator told her master. “She wishes to know how they were trained.”

Missandei of Naath, a pretty bird from the Summer Isles, repeating the words they tell her. But she, too, does more than that. She translates and manipulates at the same time, conveying intentions, hiding discourtesy. A diplomat, wrapped in lady’s armor. A girl of ten. With eyes as golden as Nymeria’s. She is, and the text doesn’t emphasize this enough, extremely intelligent. She doesn’t know Dany but she is able to read her reasonably well, while translating literally and figuratively, simultaneously. She is basically playing a Game of Faces, reading, translating, lying, repeating… She is basically a character that connects Arya and Sansa on the concept of lying and truth.

His girl conveyed the essence of his speech, more politely. (…)

“Tell her how pretty the pyramids are at night,” the slaver growled. “Tell her I will lick honey off her breasts, or allow her to lick honey off mine if she prefers.”

“Astapor is most beautiful at dusk, Your Grace,” said the slave girl. “The Good Masters light silk lanterns on every terrace, so all the pyramids glow with colored lights. Pleasure barges ply the Worm, playing soft music and calling at the little islands for food and wine and other delights.”

Missandei is a poet. She also echoes another poet.

She pictured the two of them sitting together in a garden with puppies in their laps, or listening to a singer strum upon a lute while they floated down the Mander on a pleasure barge. If I give him sons, he may come to love me. She would name them Eddard and Brandon and Rickon, and raise them all to be as valiant as Ser Loras. And to hate Lannisters, too. In Sansa's dreams, her children looked just like the brothers she had lost. Sometimes there was even a girl who looked like Arya. (ASOS, Sansa II)

Brothers and dreams. Let us keep that in mind, as well.

In ASOS, Daenerys III, Dany acquires the Unsullied at the “price” of a dragon, and gets Missandei tossed in as a bonus.

“Done,” the slave girl translated, “and done, and done, eight times done.”

“The Unsullied will learn your savage tongue quick enough,” added Kraznys mo Nakloz, when all the arrangements had been made, “but until such time you will need a slave to speak to them. Take this one as our gift to you, a token of a bargain well struck.”

“I shall,” said Dany.

The slave girl rendered his words to her, and hers to him. If she had feelings about being given for a token, she took care not to let them show. (…)

Dany turned away from him, to the slave girl standing meekly beside her litter. “Do you have a name, or must you draw a new one every day from some barrel?”

“That is only for Unsullied,” the girl said. Then she realized the question had been asked in High Valyrian. Her eyes went wide. “Oh.”

“Your name is Oh?”

“No. Your Grace, forgive this one her outburst. Your slave’s name is Missandei, but ��”

“Missandei is no longer a slave. I free you, from this instant. Come ride with me in the litter, I wish to talk.” Rakharo helped them in, and Dany drew the curtains shut against the dust and heat. “If you stay with me you will serve as one of my handmaids,” she said as they set off. “I shall keep you by my side to speak for me as you spoke for Kraznys. But you may leave my service whenever you choose, if you have father or mother you would sooner return to.”

“This one will stay,” the girl said. “This one … I … there is no place for me to go. This … I will serve you, gladly.”

"I can give you freedom, but not safety," Dany warned. "I have a world to cross and wars to fight. You may go hungry. You may grow sick. You may be killed."

"Valar morghulis," said Missandei, in High Valyrian.

"All men must die," Dany agreed, "but not for a long while, we may pray." She leaned back on the pillows and took the girl's hand. (ASOS, Daenerys III)

Does she have a name. Still careful to guard her words. She will speak for Dany like she did for Kraznys. (Dany = Kraznys.) She has no other place to go. Valar morghulis.

Honestly, I wonder if Missandei truly did not know that Dany could speak Valyrian, or if the wide eyes and “Oh!” reaction were an act.

Have two Arya parallels:

"You are," he said, "but the House of Black and White is no place for Arya, of House Stark."

"Please," she said. "I have no place to go." (AFFC, Arya I)

We know how deeply genuine Arya’s devotion to the Faceless Men is…

And bilingual fun.

She said a silent Prayer to the god of many faces, slipped out of her alcove, and flounced up to the guardsmen. Mercy, Mercy, Mercy. "My lords," she said, "do you speak Braavosi? Oh, please, tell me you do." The two guardsmen exchanged a look. "What's this Thing going on about?" the older one asked. "Who is she?" "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." Fuss and feathers, Mercy thought, they only know the Common Tongue. That was no good. Give it up or go ahead. She could not give it up. She wanted him so bad. "I know your tongue, a little," she lied, with Mercy's sweetest smile. "You are lords of Westeros, my friend said." (TWOW, Mercy)

Dany uses the chance to grill Missandei on the loyalty of the Unsullied.

“If I did resell them, how would I know they could not be used against me?” Dany asked pointedly. “Would they do that? Fight against me, even do me harm?”

“If their master commanded. They do not question, Your Grace. All the questions have been culled from them. They obey.” She looked troubled. “When you are … when you are done with them … Your Grace might command them to fall upon their swords.”

“And even that, they would do?”

“Yes.” Missandei’s voice had grown soft. “Your Grace.”

Dany squeezed her hand. “You would sooner I did not ask it of them, though. Why is that? Why do you care?”

“This one does not … I … Your Grace …”

“Tell me.”

The girl lowered her eyes. “Three of them were my brothers once, Your Grace.”

Then I hope your brothers are as brave and clever as you. (ASOS, Daenerys III)

What other reason does Missandei have to not want to leave? Because she has THREE brothers within the ranks of the Unsullied. Brothers who have been harmed, twisted, enslaved. Brothers she may want to guard, like the butterflies of Naath.

From the moment we meet her, and certainly after she is handed over to Dany, Missandei serves as a tie to the human suffering on Display with the Unsullied. She explains the gruesome “training". She reveals having brothers among them when faced with the possibility that Dany might order their suicide.

But she also serves to comfort Dany numerous times in a way that Irri (her “not a sex slave��) cannot.

She sings.

The hours crept by on turtle feet. Even after Jhiqui rubbed the knots from her shoulders, Dany was too restless for sleep. Missandei offered to sing her a lullaby of the Peaceful People, but Dany shook her head. “Bring me Arstan,” she said. (ASOS, Daenerys IV)

She tells her stories of her home.

Do all gods feel so lonely? Some must, surely. Missandei had told her of the Lord of Harmony, worshiped by the Peaceful People of Naath; he was the only true god, her little scribe said, the god who always was and always would be, who made the moon and stars and earth, and all the creatures that dwelt upon them. Poor Lord of Harmony. Dany pitied him. It must be terrible to be alone for all time, attended by hordes of butterfly women you could make or unmake at a word. (ASOS, Daenerys VI)

Who else serves a “one true God”? Arya, with the many-faced god. With his servants in black-and-white. Dany hears a lot about the culture of the Peaceful People from Missandei. She seems to find it relaxing.

“Are there many flies on Naath, Missandei?”

“On Naath there are butterflies,” the scribe responded in the Common Tongue. “More wine?”

“No. I must hold court soon.” Dany had grown very fond of Missandei. The little scribe with the big golden eyes was wise beyond her years. She is brave as well. She had to be, to survive the life she’s lived. One day she hoped to see this fabled isle of Naath. Missandei said the Peaceful People made music instead of war. They did not kill, not even animals; they ate only fruit and never flesh. The butterfly spirits sacred to their Lord of Harmony protected their isle against those who would do them harm. Many conquerors had sailed on Naath to blood their swords, only to sicken and die. The butterflies do not help them when the slave ships come raiding, though. “I am going to take you home one day, Missandei,” Dany promised. If I had made the same promise to Jorah, would he still have sold me? “I swear it.”

“This one is content to stay with you, Your Grace. Naath will be there, always. You are good to this—to me.”

“And you to me.” Dany took the girl by the hand. “Come help me dress.” (ASOS, Daenerys VI)

I think Dany is projecting a lot onto Missandei. Her longing for home, for childhood. For loyalty. And yet…

Daario and Ben Plumm, Grey Worm, Irri, Jhiqui, Missandei … as she looked at them Dany found herself wondering which of them would betray her next. (ASOS, Daenerys VI)

And here Missandei witnesses an interesting turn of events.

Dany thought a moment. “Any man who wishes to sell himself into slavery may do so. Or woman.” She raised a hand. “But they may not sell their children, nor a man his wife.”

“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.” (ASOS, Daenerys VI)

Instead of eradicating slave trade, Dany allows it to wobble back into existence, because she had no better plan. Curiously, Missandei seems to support, even enable this. She turns Dany’s attention toward the Astapori practice. Why? That is.. seriously odd, for a former slave who is supposedly enarmored with Dany’s anti-slavery crucade, and thus loyal to her.

Missandei remains gentle, caring, ever so attentive. As Dany struggles with ruling Meereen, Missandei is there to hold her hand.

She was Daenerys Stormborn, the Unburnt, khaleesi and queen, Mother of Dragons, slayer of warlocks, breaker of chains, and there was no one in the world that she could trust.

“Your Grace?” Missandei stood at her elbow wrapped in a bedrobe, wooden sandals on her feet. “I woke, and saw that you were gone. Did you sleep well? What are you looking at?”

“My city,” said Dany. “I was looking for a house with a red door, but by night all the doors are black.”

“A red door?” Missandei was puzzled. “What house is this?”

“No house. It does not matter.” Dany took the younger girl by the hand. “Never lie to me, Missandei. Never betray me.”

“I never would,” Missandei promised. “Look, dawn comes.”

The sky had turned a cobalt blue from the horizon to the zenith, and behind the line of low hills to the east a glow could be seen, pale gold and oyster pink. Dany held Missandei’s hand as they watched the sun come up. (ASOS, Daenerys VI)

Dany promises to take her home, Missandei promises to never betray her. Or “promises”? She now knows that Dany is certainly concerned with fear of betrayal. Yet her gentle presence allows Dany to refocus when she was tempted to leave Meereen behind.

“There is nothing to stay for,” said Brown Ben Plumm.

“Your Grace, the slavers brought their doom on themselves,” said Daario Naharis.

“You have brought freedom as well,” Missandei pointed out.

“Freedom to starve?” asked Dany sharply. “Freedom to die? Am I a dragon, or a harpy?” Am I mad? Do I have the taint? (ASOS, Daenerys VI)

Dany ends ASOS choosing to stay, to rule.

Of course, the deterioration of Meereen has a devastating personal effect on Missandei. Her brother is murdered.

She could hear the soft sounds of sobs. “Who is that weeping?”

“Your slave Missandei.” Jhiqui had a taper in her hand.

“My servant. I have no slaves.” Dany did not understand. “Why does she weep?”

“For him who was her brother,” Irri told her. (ADWD, Daenerys II)

(Subtext: Irri sees no difference between Missandei and a slave. Dany does not understand. She does not really comprehend how to MAKE it different.)

Mossador. Dany made a fist. Missandei and her brothers had been taken from their home on Naath by raiders from the Basilisk Isles and sold into slavery in Astapor. Young as she was, Missandei had shown such a gift for tongues that the Good Masters had made a scribe of her. Mossador and Marselen had not been so fortunate. They had been gelded and made into Unsullied. (ADWD, Daenerys II)

I wonder what happened to the third brother? Has he died by this point, as well?

Dany decides to employ torture to investigate the murder of Missandei’s brother and others by the Sons of the Harpy. The torture of a suspect’s innocent daughters, to be exact. Another step toward villainy.

When she returned to her rooms atop the pyramid, she found Missandei crying softly on her pallet, trying as best she could to muffle the sound of her sobs. “Come sleep with me,” she told the little scribe. “Dawn will not come for hours yet.”

“Your Grace is kind to this one.” Missandei slipped under the sheets. “He was a good brother.”

Dany wrapped her arms about the girl. “Tell me of him.”

“He taught me how to climb a tree when we were little. He could catch fish with his hands. Once I found him sleeping in our garden with a hundred butterflies crawling over him. He looked so beautiful that morning, this one … I mean, I loved him.” (ADWD, Daenerys II)

Mossador sounds a lot like Bran. Climbing, fishing.

Compare the images:

The night the bird had come from Winterfell, Eddard Stark had taken the girls to the castle godswood, an acre of elm and alder and black cottonwood overlooking the river. The heart tree there was a great oak, its ancient limbs overgrown with smokeberry vines; they knelt before it to offer their thanksgiving, as if it had been a weirwood. Sansa drifted to sleep as the moon rose, Arya several hours later, curling up in the grass under Ned's cloak. All through the dark hours he kept his vigil alone. When dawn broke over the city, the dark red blooms of dragon's breath surrounded the girls where they lay. "I dreamed of Bran," Sansa had whispered to him. "I saw him smiling."

"He was going to be a knight," Arya was saying now. "A knight of the Kingsguard. Can he still be a knight?" (AGOT, Eddard V)

Asleep in the godswood like Mossador had been in the garden. Surrounded by dragon’s breath flowers like he had been covered by butterflies. Two sisters thinking of their brother, terribly harmed. Where Bran survived, Mossador did not.

“As he loved you.” Dany stroked the girl’s hair. “Say the word, my sweet, and I will send you from this awful place. I will find a ship somehow and send you home. To Naath.”

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

Safe. The word made Dany’s eyes fill up with tears. “I want to keep you safe.”

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

“… mother,” whispered Missandei.

“Mother to dragons.” Dany shivered.

“No. Mother to us all.” Missandei hugged her tighter. “Your Grace should sleep. Dawn will be here soon, and court.”

“We’ll both sleep, and dream of sweeter days. Close your eyes.” When she did, Dany kissed her eyelids and made her giggle.

And reading this, I just realized that there is a clear parallel to someone else: Taena Merryweather. Where Irri parallels the sexual abuse aspect, Missandei parallels the “sweet confidant” aspect of her relationship with Cersei. Sharing a bed, telling stories, secrets. We know how loyal Taena was to Cersei.

Missandei just lost her brother whom she loved enough to weep copiously for, yet she ends up comforting Dany, the exchange becomes about Dany. This reads sweet and mutual, but IS IT REALLY when you keep that turn of the conversation in mind?

Dany keeps projecting onto Missandei, and I think Missandei knows. I think Missandei is very aware of this and using it to stay afloat. Not because she is evil but because she is simply trying to survive and do anything he can to try and keep in contact with her brothers, to protect them. Her connection to Dany is the best way to do that.

Missandei keeps witnessing Dany’s lower points:

When Daenerys returned to her pyramid, sore of limb and sick of heart, she found Missandei reading some old scroll whilst Irri and Jhiqui argued about Rakharo. “You are too skinny for him,” Jhiqui was saying. “You are almost a boy. Rakharo does not bed with boys. This is known.” Irri bristled back. “It is known that you are almost a cow. Rakharo does not bed with cows.”

“Rakharo is blood of my blood. His life belongs to me, not you,” Dany told the two of them. (ADWD, Daenerys VI)

Interestingly, she is also reading “old scrolls”. Educating herself.

Dany remains happily intrusive in her command over her “handmaiden’s” bodies. It accompanies a very strange exchange between them.

A cool wind was blowing on her terrace. Dany sighed with pleasure as she slipped into the waters of her pool. At her command, Missandei stripped off her clothes and climbed in after her. “This one heard the Astapori scratching at the walls last night,” the little scribe said as she was washing Dany’s back.

Irri and Jhiqui exchanged a look. “No one was scratching,” said Jhiqui.

“Scratching … how could they scratch?”

“With their hands,” said Missandei. “The bricks are old and crumbling. They are trying to claw their way into the city.”

“This would take them many years,” said Irri. “The walls are very thick. This is known.”

“It is known,” agreed Jhiqui.

“I dream of them as well.” Dany took Missandei’s hand. “The camp is a good half-mile from the city, my sweetling. No one was scratching at the walls.”

“Your Grace knows best,” said Missandei. (ADWD, Daenerys VI)

It is not the Astapori scratching.

For a moment he saw only the blackened arches of the bricks above, scorched by dragonflame. A trickle of ash caught his eye, betraying movement. Something pale, half-hidden, stirring. He's made himself a cave, the prince realized. A burrow in the brick. The foundations of the Great Pyramid of Meereen were massive and thick to support the weight of the huge structure overhead; even the interior walls were three times thicker than any castle's curtain walls. But Viserion had dug himself a hole in them with flame and claw, a hole big enough to sleep in. (ADWD, The Dragontamer)

So Missandei is hearing the warning signs the others are missing.

Dany is trying, but the true cost of ruling – the abdication of one’s most personal choices toward the benefit of the many - chafes hard. Interestingly, Missandei is unusually outspoken on the subject. Downright testing the waters of her influence on the friendship track.

“Your Grace needs more than wine to break her fast. You are such a tiny thing, and you will surely need your strength today.”

That made Daenerys laugh, coming from a girl so small. She relied so much on the little scribe that she oft forgot that Missandei had only turned eleven. They shared the food together on her terrace. As Dany nibbled on an olive, the Naathi girl gazed at her with eyes like molten gold and said, “It is not too late to tell them that you have decided not to wed.”

It is, though, the queen thought, sadly. “Hizdahr’s blood is ancient and noble. Our joining will join my freedmen to his people. When we become as one, so will our city.”

“Your Grace does not love the noble Hizdahr. This one thinks you would sooner have another for your husband.”

I must not think of Daario today. “A queen loves where she must, not where she will.”

Her appetite had left her. “Take this food away,” she told Missandei. “It is time I bathed.” (ADWD, Daenerys VII)

Eyes like molten gold. Molten gold, a golden crown that men shall tremble to behold. Ominous.

I wonder what Missandei’s endgame here is. Why does she oppose the marriage? Why did she propose the slave sale tax?

Dany relies on Missandei emotionally. But Missandei seems to pull back, now that Dany did marry Hizdahr.

Dany flinched. “Who is there?”

“Only Missandei.” The Naathi scribe moved closer to the bed. “This one heard you crying.”

“Crying? I was not crying. Why would I cry? I have my peace, I have my king, I have everything a queen might wish for. You had a bad dream, that was all.”

“As you say, Your Grace.” She bowed and made to go.

“Stay,” said Dany. “I do not wish to be alone.”

“His Grace is with you,” Missandei pointed out.

“His Grace is dreaming, but I cannot sleep. On the morrow I must bathe in blood. The price of peace.” She smiled wanly and patted the bed. “Come. Sit. Talk with me.”

“If it please you.” Missandei sat down beside her. “What shall we talk of?”

“Home,” said Dany. “Naath. Butterflies and brothers. Tell me of the things that make you happy, the things that make you giggle, all your sweetest memories. Remind me that there is still good in the world.”

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

The morning came too soon. (ADWD, Daenerys VIII)

Missandei did not correct herself when she used “this one”, like she used to before. She does not enthusiastically agree to stay with her. “If it please you” is a phrase used with monarchs like Joffrey, Cersei, Stannis. Dany used it on Viserys, to placate him.

Missandei becomes even more openly critical just before the fighting pits open.

“Even if the pits must open, must Your Grace go yourself?” asked Missandei as she was washing the queen’s hair.

“Half of Meereen will be there to see me, gentle heart.”

“Your Grace,” said Missandei, “this one begs leave to say that half of Meereen will be there to watch men bleed and die.”

She is not wrong, the queen knew, but it makes no matter. (ADWD, Daenerys IX)

Once again, no correction on the “this one”. She doesn’t bother anymore. Still she makes a last-ditch effort to use her emotional influence on Dany. To no avail. Why does she not want Dany to go? Is it the principle of the thing? Is it to subvert the union? Is it because she knows something is going to happen? Does she Need Dany on a particular path?

Just before she leaves for the fighting pits, Dany has her last interaction with Missandei.

Missandei reemerged. “Your Grace. The king bids you join him when you are dressed. And Prince Quentyn has come with his Dornish Men. They beg a word, if that should please you.”

Little about this day shall please me. “Some other day.” (ADWD, Daenerys IX)

That’s it. Brushed off. Missandei stays behind. Dany goes to the pit.

Next we see her is in ADWD, The Queensguard. She is mostly unsupervised, alone.

The royal apartments were still and silent. Hizdahr had not taken up residence there, preferring to establish his own suite of rooms deep in the heart of the Great Pyramid, where massive brick walls surrounded him on all sides. Mezzara, Miklaz, Qezza, and the rest of the queen’s young cupbearers—hostages in truth, but both Selmy and the queen had become so fond of them that it was hard for him to think of them that way—had gone with the king, whilst Irri and Jhiqui departed with the other Dothraki. Only Missandei remained, a forlorn little ghost haunting the queen’s chambers at the apex of the pyramid. (ADWD, The Queensguard)

Dany and Selmy can forget that the kids are hostages. But Theon shows us that they never forget what they are. Irri and Jhiqui remain Dothraki. And Missandei? What IS she up to?

We gain a few more insights on her interactions in Meereen.

“She might be flying home,” he told himself, aloud.

“No,” murmured a soft voice behind him. “She would not do that, ser. She would not go home without us.”

Ser Barristan turned. “Missandei. Child. How long have you been standing there?”

“Not long. This one is sorry if she has disturbed you.” She hesitated. “Skahaz mo Kandaq wishes words with you.”

“The Shavepate? You spoke with him?” That was rash, rash. The enmity ran deep between Shakaz and the king, and the girl was clever enough to know that. Skahaz had been outspoken in his opposition to the queen’s marriage, a fact Hizdahr had not forgotten. “Is he here? In the pyramid?”

“When he wishes. He comes and goes, ser.”

Yes. He would. “Who told you he wants words with me?”

“A Brazen Beast. He wore an owl mask.”

Like Arya as a cupbearer, Missandei is both visible and invisible and has the opportunity to fade into the background but also make contact with numerous people while she had Dany’s ear, hypothetically. We certainly know that Missandei disapproved of Hizdahr, as well. Also, she is sneaky and can listen to conversations. We know she reads scrolls. Her outward appearance remains that of a loyal believer.

Selmy immediately decides to make use of that ability.

The worst were those who played the game of thrones. “Can you find this owl again?” he asked Missandei.

“This one can try, ser.”

“Tell him I will speak with … with our friend … after dark, by the stables.” The pyramid’s main doors were closed and barred at sunset. The stables would be quiet at that hour. “Make certain it is the same owl.” It would not serve to have the wrong Brazen Beast hear of this.

“This one understands.” Missandei turned as if to go, then paused a moment and said, “It is said that the Yunkai’i have ringed the city all about with scorpions, to loose iron bolts into the sky should Drogon return.”

Ser Barristan had heard that too. “It is no simple thing to slay a dragon in the sky. In Westeros, many tried to bring down Aegon and his sisters. None succeeded.”

Missandei nodded. It was hard to tell if she was reassured. “Do you think that they will find her, ser? The grasslands are so vast, and dragons leave no tracks across the sky.”

“Aggo and Rakharo are blood of her blood … and who knows the Dothraki sea better than Dothraki?” He squeezed her shoulder. “They will find her if she can be found.” If she still lives. There were other khals who prowled the grass, horselords with khalasars whose riders numbered in the tens of thousands. But the girl did not need to hear that. “You love her well, I know. I swear, I shall keep her safe.”

The words seemed to give the girl some comfort. Words are wind, though, Ser Barristan thought. How can I protect the queen when I am not with her?

Look at her tickling dragon-killing information out of Selmy while appearing very concerned for Dany.

Afterward, back at the apex of the pyramid, Ser Barristan found Missandei amongst piles of scrolls and books, reading. “Stay here tonight, child,” he told her. “Whatever happens, whatever you see or hear, do not leave the queen’s chambers.”

“This one hears,” the girl said. “If she may ask—”

“Best not.” Ser Barristan stepped out alone onto the terrace gardens. I am not made for this, he reflected as he looked out over the sprawling city. The pyramids were waking, one by one, lanterns and torches flickering to life as shadows gathered in the streets below. Plots, ploys, whispers, lies, secrets within secrets, and somehow I have become part of them. (ADWD, The Kingbreaker)

Again, reading scrolls and books. Again fishing for information. (Understandably, but also probably not innocently.)

Next, she is caring for Quentyn Martell on his deathbed.

Missandei sat at the bedside. She had been with the prince night and day, tending to such needs as he could express, giving him water and milk of the poppy when he was strong enough to drink, listening to the few tortured words he gasped out from time to time, reading to him when he fell quiet, sleeping in her chair beside him. (ADWD, The Queen’s Hand)

So she is undaunted in the face of death and physical atrocity, much like Arya. Giving comfort to the infirm not unlike Sansa with Sweetrobin.

She assumes the role of confidant for Selmy, as well. Seamless.

The tiny Naathi scribe looked up at his approach. “Honored ser. The prince is beyond pain now. His Dornish gods have taken him home. See? He smiles.”

How can you tell? He has no lips. It would have been kinder if the dragons had devoured him. That at least would have been quick. This … Fire is a hideous way to die. Small wonder half the hells are made of flame. “Cover him.”

Missandei pulled the coverlet over the prince’s face. “What will be done with him, ser? He is so very far from home.”

“I’ll see that he’s returned to Dorne.” But how? As ashes? That would require more fire, and Ser Barristan could not stomach that. We’ll need to strip the flesh from his bones. Beetles, not boiling. The silent sisters would have seen to it at home, but this was Slaver’s Bay. The nearest silent sister was ten thousand leagues away. “You should go sleep now, child. In your own bed.”

“If this one may be so bold, ser, you should do the same. You do not sleep the whole night through.”

Not for many years, child. Not since the Trident. Grand Maester Pycelle had once told him that old men do not need as much sleep as the young, but it was more than that. He had reached that age when he was loath to close his eyes, for fear that he might never open them again. Other men might wish to die in bed asleep, but that was no death for a knight of the Kingsguard.

“The nights are too long,” he told Missandei, “and there is much and more to do, always. Here, as in the Seven Kingdoms. But you have done enough for now, child. Go and rest.” And if the gods are good, you will not dream of dragons. (The Queen’s Hand)

Child he calls her, and yet…

“Ransom,” said Ser Barristan. “Each man’s weight in gold.”

“The Wise Masters do not need our gold, ser,” said Marselen. “They are richer than your Westerosi lords, every one.”

“Their sellswords will want the gold, though. What are the hostages to them? If the Yunkishmen refuse, it will drive a blade between them and their hirelings.” Or so I hope. It had been Missandei who suggested the ploy to him. He would never have thought of such a thing himself. In King’s Landing, bribes had been Littlefinger’s domain, whilst Lord Varys had the task of fostering division amongst the crown’s enemies. His own duties had been more straightforward. Eleven years of age, yet Missandei is as clever as half the men at this table and wiser than all of them. (The Queen’s Hand)

He takes political advice from the eleven-year-old translator. And he never stops to wonder what else she might be up to. Missandei is no sweet, innocent follower. Missandei is brilliant. She is a patient player. And she hides it so well.

In Dany’s mind, Missandei remains ever her loyal handmaiden.

Jhiqui and Irri would be waiting atop her pyramid back in Meereen, she told herself.

Her sweet scribe Missandei as well, and all her little pages. They would bring her food, and she could bathe in the pool beneath the persimmon tree. It would be good to feel clean again. Dany did not need a glass to know that she was filthy. (ADWD, Daenerys X)

and

As the world darkened, Dany settled in and closed her eyes, but sleep refused to come. The night was cold, the ground hard, her belly empty. She found herself thinking of Meereen, of Daario, her love, and Hizdahr, her husband, of Irri and Jhiqui and sweet Missandei, Ser Barristan and Reznak and Skahaz Shavepate. Do they fear me dead? I flew off on a dragon’s back. Will they think he ate me? (ADWD, Daenerys X)

Does she want her alive or dead? And what path does she want her to follow? Missandei’s specific goals are a mystery to me.

But I am loving this.

That relationship is one giant cauldron bubbling away. A big sign saying “Watch this Space”. I am excited for this. Considering the parallels to the Stark sisters, especially Arya, but also to Taena Merryweather, I am fairly certain Missandei is going to betray Dany and play a role in at least a significant setback for her. I do NOT think that Missandei genuinely cares for Dany. The details of her aims are fuzzy to me, but I suspect it’s going to prioritize her brothers.

Considering she was the last to care for Quentyn, I would be especially excited if she somehow came into contact with Dorne, especially Arianne and Aegon, before the end.

So yeah, those are my thoughts on that relationship.

#asoiaf #daenerys targaryen #missandei of naath #asks #my posts

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kitsoa · 4 years ago

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So, about your Theory ...

So, we talked on Reddit a while ago, Kitsoa, and I have some more thoughts about your theory. It’s more rambling and longer than what I previously intended – my apologies for this.

Kitsoa- Hello again! I’ll reply in brief through quotes though I’m not interested in doing a solid defense of my theory. Mostly it’s a lot of creative stretching using the crumbs of the narrative and I’m not feeling particularly impassioned to bring out the counter citations nor do I think it necessary.

Also: I have written and re-iterated upon this meta theory of mine multiple times so if I am not referencing the correct Original Post in question that’s probably because I never bothered to do a big manifesto and I will take the fall for that confusion.

It’s certainly very interesting but parts of it seem to not only be unsupported but outright contradicted by the games. For instance, take your surmise that Xehanort’s villainy is motivated by his knowledge of the KH world as fictional and his self-knowledge that he has to play the role of the villain to create a conflict and thus sustain the universe. His actual speech in Re:Mind after Dark Road’s world tour points to something else:

“All around the world people live seemingly peaceful lives. They believe themselves to be moral and virtuous, but it’s all an act. Darkness lurks in the pit of everyone’s heart. Their light is a total farce. Those who are weak, and who desire greater power, simply strip the strong of their power, and convince themselves they’ve earned it. That’s how people become tainted by darkness. They believe what they want them to believe, using hollow reasons as justification. They repeat this cycle, and their darkness grows. No, its better they be ruled by darkness. People carry delusions of having power, but it’s a lie. They are but sheep pretending to be wolves. Though I can admit, I can understand why.”

This edgy little diatribe isn’t about the nature of the universe or Xehanort’s own origin … it’s about his view of human (or talking animal, w/e) nature. It’s a similar theme to his final speech in KH3, and ends not with him concluding that he needs to play the role of a villain to create conflict ,,, but that to prevent the KH universe collapsing into chaos, he needs to become its absolute godlike ruler. Which is what sets up the conflict, yes, but his goal isn’t explicitly to create conflict to keep the universe going.

Re: Xehanorts motive aligning with a meta-awareness on his ‘role’ as a villain. This is a theme I was definitely playing with. Xehanort is clearly symbolic of the corrupting pursuit of knowledge and we have a god-like encounter spark stranger behavior yet. It’s a fascinating trope yes? Corrupted by the Truth. Saving the world by sacrificing the world. That was my angle. The World Tour from Re:mind had him summarizing his villainous disdain and I’ll agree that it gives him no direction towards a ‘role’. But I also take note of the fact that this enlightenment comes directly from the actions of the chessmaster MoM who could feasibly manipulate Xehanort towards a conflict-sparking war. If Xehanort isn’t directly and consciously responsible for fulfilling the metacontextual requirements for a ‘story’ then MoM is. And as I’ve stated it probably comes from a more experimental god-mode type motive.

And again, your argument that time doesn’t really exist in the Disney worlds until Sora arrives and this is related to them literally being stories that he’s diving into. I don’t know where you get this from, at all. We go into Disney worlds and experience plots unrelated to the films (KH1 Olympus, Halloween Town); we go into Disney worlds in medias res (too many to count); we go into Disney worlds before the movie’s events take place (BBS Deep Space, Neverland); we even go into Disney worlds in-between or after the movies’ events (KH3 Toy Box, San Fransokyo). Which rather gets in the way of a simplistic “Sora arrives in the Disney world, time starts flowing forward and the movie starts” look at things. You’d previously characterized this as “every world has its unique story” which IMO would be a more reasonable way to look at things rather than the stronger “the worlds literally are the stories and nothing else”.

I’ll defend this a little. The entire concept of the Worlds as Stories demands only that we recognize a higher reality. A reader/audience/ creator relationship with the happenings. When I say ‘time doesn’t exist’ I’m saying it doesn’t matter. The only thing that does matter is the time spent there by Sora (or his subsidiaries). Time is going to move between visits but not at a pace that runs independently of Sora (and co). And all of the events within those worlds are unique to the source material-- on the virtue of having Sora. But when I say the worlds are the stories, I mean it... metaphysically. The relationship between the greater kh multi-verse (and no greater) and these literal planet world island things is that of stories given form. Most all of my KH musings come from the very simple concept that formless metaphysical concepts like love, bonds, imagination, memories etc are literal, tangible things. Tangible. In this, Worlds are not so much another universe equal to other universes. They are a story, fictional and potentially subservient to a greater reality. It’s only from that understanding that I add the extra layer upon KH (and Quadratum by later extension) itself.

The exact logic behind this reasoning is cyclic. KH is a fictional story to the literal higher reality (us) and seeing how there's a parallel within the narrative, I just applied that logic within the universe and used my understanding of the ‘literal metaphysics’ theme going on with other lore concepts.

Power of Waking ejecting Sora into “real reality”: This analysis is based on the idea that Sora is “waking himself up” out of dream states until he “wakes up” out of KH reality into “real reality”. But YMX tells him (and implicitly us, via the conventions of this kind of villainous exposition) that Sora is repeating the same error he made in 3D and sending himself into the abyss at the bottom of the Realm of Darkness, not doing the opposite thing and “waking himself up” out of KH reality.

I’ll just punt Power of Waking stuff. There is a lot of stuff with the power but I take most of the speculation from the name and the results. There’s a big interweave of darkness that can support or deny my thoughts within the next sentence and I’m electing now to wait and see. Sora abuses the power of waking-- ends up in another reality. Waking--> realities--> dreams--> sleep. Run with the word association. I like to think the ambiguity with sleep and the darkness of abyss has more to say about the nature of reality as a whole ergo: “everything is a dream” concepts that are hard to swallow. What is waking up, if you find yourself deeper in sleep? Nonesense stuff like that.

MoM as Creator of the KH universe/Quadratum as the “higher reality”: Not only is he presented as a clear villain figure; given that the rest of the Foretellers are based on the Seven Deadly Sins, MoM as their leader would clearly represent the sin of pride. We also have him saying in Back Cover that he “might” disappear from the KH world, suggesting that it was beyond his control; and Luxu’s report suggests that the KH3 Keyblade War was engineered to open a means for him to return to the KH universe, presumably via Sora going to where he is in Quadratum/”unreality”.

I believe strongly in this still. MoM can be a villainous figure and at the mercy of universal laws while still being the Creator and denizen of a higher plane. I try not to dig into scenarios too much but follow me here: Creator of the world, literally self-inserts himself into a world of his own creation. He’s a verified Mad Scientist who of course likes to experiment and test his creations and he does so directly, physically, to them. There, he put them on auto-pilot and is watching Characterization carry on. I am not claiming that he is breaking the rules of his own universe and traveling in and out with ease. Nor am I saying if he is exercising any sort of Creator-granted power over their will. He’s there, he’s interacting with them, and he’s watching them. I find it to be an intentional obstaining of power. Self imposed limitations OR an understood sacrifice for this meddling (think, giving up ‘divine’ form to live amongst his ‘mortal’ creations in divine parallel. he is at the will of his universe but not out of control.)

When he says he ‘might’ disappear not only is he being vague on purpose to terrorize his high-strung apprentices but he’s made no indication that it’s something against his intention. And the actions taken by Luxu in formulating his return mean nothing to his plan or his ability or his potential Creator status. I can’t stress how Long Game I perceive MoM’s actions to be. All in the effort to observe, toy, and curate the perfect... something. And since I am talking about the literal nature of stories, I mean the ‘perfect’ story.

Also, we may note that if it was truly a “higher reality”, Quadratum wouldn’t be noted as the fictional Verum Rex video game in KH3 – there’d be no explicit sign at all of its existence, as it would be the higher reality generating the lower one. Which suggests that what may actually be the case, if the series is going meta, is that KH-verse and Quadratum view each other as fictional – in which case MoM would be somebody falsely claiming or believing to be the Creator, which makes sense in relation to the sin he represents.

Not that I’m saying KH-verse isn’t generated by a higher reality/being; but I don’t feel that the higher reality is Quadratum or that the higher being is MoM. There was a fairly interesting post on Reddit comparing KH to Plato’s world of the forms; in which case Kingdom Hearts would be the higher reality from which both regular KH-verse and Quadratum are generated. Or “unreality” really is a “lower reality” than the regular KH-verse, which TBF seems a bit less likely than “’reg. KH-verse’ and ‘unreality’ view each other as mutually fictional but are actually ontologically equal”.

I think my theory posts predate most of the Quadratum reveal so the details of the reveal haven’t been accounted for in my words but I did call it when breaking down Remind’s Yozora scenario. That said yes, I think there is a higher reality and I feel like you mentioned it outright. I see KH and Quadratum as equal fictional realities, segregated but connected through creator. Some of my earlier meta posts before re:mind saw Quadratum as the “higher reality” (or like “host reality”) until the presence of an author between them became apparent enough. We can potentially consider MoM=the author as a separate subject in this respect as it’s not entirely dependant on that reveal. Ultimately, my point in this caveat of the theory is that the relationship between KH and Quadratum strikes an intentionally meta-referential parallel to the actual creator Nomura. That’s an angle that is very audacious and I have full understanding in the denial but it’s my supporting evidence to a higher power within the re:mind secret episode alone. As for the ‘unreality’ I literally think that is just a way for them to say ‘fictional’ without saying the word, not necessarily an indication of ‘rank’ (for lack of a better word). I use a little reverse logic on the reveal in Melody of Memory when I claim they are ‘equal fictional realities’. No one thinks to assume that they themselves are also “fake” so it;s not a stretch to believe that the reverse assumption could be true. This putting KH and Quadratum on the same level and almost guaranteeing a connection through a mutual creator.

Now, you also talk about the Whispers in FF7R, but in that they’re in-universe contextualised as “guardians of destiny”, essentially manifestations of the Will of the Planet. Which just goes to show what I talked about earlier – the meta-level of a story can’t exist without a surface-level narrative. We know that the Whispers out-of-universe represent fan anger at changes to the plotline; but they’re presented as something in-universe, which can be defeated by in-universe forces (another reason I doubt it as it seems to leave no room for our heroes’ victory in the confrontation with MoM that’s being teased as the next saga).

I bring up the Whispers to note a synonymous use of the words ‘destiny’ and ‘fate’ to ‘story and ‘narrative�� Not explicitly of course, that would break the 4th wall, but its a subtext that's easier seen in a ‘remake’ because of direct references and deviations being drawn. I think the same synonymous use can be applied when brought up in KH because of their common creative entity.

Finally: How do you see this “metapocalypse” of yours playing out as an actual KH game? We know the conventions well enough by now – a trip through Disney worlds fighting monsters and villains in flashy shonen-style combat, being stalked and looked over ominously from afar by a council of villains with mysterious schemes. Then an invasion of the villains’ lair by the heroes with a final serving of flashy, SFX-heavy boss battles, a number of dramatic plot twists and arc resolutions, and an ending with the villains’ schemes having been at least forestalled. Then we get the ending credits; with an epilogue, a superboss and a secret ending all hinting at more to come.

Well I’m glad you asked! Honestly, I’m basically writing a fanfiction about it. I’m writing the story in part to engage some of these theories/speculations into a serviceable game narrative. So I’ll be vague:

Thematically: This breaking the 4th wall has the power to thematically drive home concepts of free will, defining your personhood and defying expectations. Furthermore, you have questions like... what makes something real? What makes it matter and what’s important? With growing up and the sanctity of youth being a constant struggle as the series and the characters age, the reverence in imagination and growing connections to things that aren’t stereotypically ‘real’ is a strong concept. If I were to break down the big message simply: As long as it’s real in your heart it doesn’t matter.

Overall, the reveal doesn’t really have to impact the basic formula. You can have Disney World Hopping and Villainous characters scheming and manipulating a greater force. I personally think the world-hopping parallel can become more direct with the context of it being movies/stories adding a different understanding of the process of visiting those worlds and meeting those characters. The episodes can be more about fate and predestination and can speak directly to the importance of the connections to those worlds. And the dramatic stakes are the literal threads of reality and godhood!

If I am to be more detailed and imaginative (without substantial evidence) I might say... MoM’s experiments in manipulating his own created world(s) are aiming to shape Sora (or 2nd favorite son Yozora) into some kind of perfect conduit for the marraige of reality and fiction and the success or failure of that process might weaponize his ability to connect with other hearts... real and not, all to the greater ascention of one chessmaster.

(That’s not even mentioning how I have a personal reason to dislike it as it reminds me of an old theory that the KH plot was actually SRK imagining it all up in their childhood games or to put a darker twist on that idea, Sora dreaming it all up in a coma or while dying. I hated reading those ideas when I was younger and still do.)

I’m gonna sympathize hard with this. I hate ‘it was all just a dream’ theories. They are cheap and they trivialize the journey. That is not what this theory is saying. There is a higher reality in this concept and that is used as a proxy for our relationship with the series. The imagery of dreams is only a small facet of the reality/unreality theme so there is no ‘waking up’ or ‘end of story, goodbye’ attitude. The commentary is broader and it can potentially speak on the power of dreams and reality. The ‘realness’ of fake things. I’m sort of calling out KH for what it is: an imaginative story that expands upon what it means to truly experience stories. Anyway, I rambled more than I thought. I haven’t written anything about KH in months so this was a little caffine shot for me. I’m not gonna be too stuck in the details and nor do I care exactly. I’m a story teller first and I just so happened to have predicted some things not so much because of the hints being dropped but because I understand some of the thematic intent behind the lore and certain narrative beats. The rest is just me having fun and finding the best reading. Sometimes I’m right.

#kingdom hearts #kh meta #submissions #kh speculation #kh theory #long post #submission

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tipsycad147 · 3 years ago

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The wisdom of sloth: Embracing the lesser-known spirit animals

by Michelle Gruben

“Are you going to want the wolf refill package?” she asks me over the phone. I’m buying an assortment of pewter animal charms for my shop. “It’s by far our best-seller.” I can believe it. Wolves are superstars.

I imagine the disappointment of my customers as they rifle through a bin for their cherished wolf totems, only to find a bunch of swans and ladybugs. I get two wolf refill packages. The skunk and manatee charms, I learn, have been discontinued—probably melted down and recast into more wolves. I decide right then and there to keep my mouth shut if anyone ever tells me their spirit animal is the Skunk.

But the conversation got me thinking about Pagans and our spirit animals—the animals we choose, or that choose us. Our special animal that guides us and inspires us, who reflects our character, whose appearance we view as a friendly omen.

Wolf. Bear. Spider. Owl. And of course, Raven. There are more Pagans named “Raven,” it seems, than Irish Catholics named Mary. And yet, actual ravens are quite rare. Here in North Texas, we mostly get big-ass crows. The only place I’m certain I’ve seen ravens was on the lido deck of a cruise ship anchored in Juneau, as they grabbed entire hot dogs off the lunch trays of astonished passengers. Truly a noble and magickal bird. I’ll have to talk to my supplier about getting a raven refill package.

Clearly, something strange is going on here. In nature, top-level predators exist in very limited numbers. Their lives are sustained by a horde of less fabled (but quite edible) herbivores and scavengers. Yet you rarely meet a person whose acknowledged spirit animal is Musk Deer, Vole, or Shrimp. There are, I believe, two possible explanations: 1) The spirit animal ecosystem works differently from the earthly ecosystem, or 2) Some of you people are cheating on your guided meditations.

So what if your real spirit animal is lower on the totem pole, so to speak? I completely sympathize. I can’t blame you for wanting to shrink from the fact that your kindred creature is underwhelming. The price of honesty here is stiff. Your animal never plays a starring role in Greek myths or Loki stories. You risk condescension—and even predation—from all your Wolf- and Raven-kin friends. And good luck shopping for animal-themed accessories and altar swag. You’re forever doomed to wander New Age bookstores and museum gift shops feeling like the kid whose name is Kandace with a “K.”

And yet, all of Gaia’s creatures have something to teach us. Not every bird is an eagle, as they say. (And why would they want to be? What’s so great about eagles? What are you saying about the other birds, huh?) While I can’t get to all of the neglected spirit animals, here are five earthly denizens who are chafing for their moment in the spotlight.

Real quick: I’ve heard the opinion that any discussion of spirit animals constitutes cultural appropriation and is offensive to Native Americans. I’d just like to point out that animals do, in fact, reside on all seven continents. And that Pagans of all persuasions take inspiration from nature, including our closest kin, the kingdom Animalia. If you think that tribal affiliation is required in order to have a sacred bond with a favorite creature, then your spirit animal is a stick in the mud. You’re welcome.

Still reading? Cool! Let’s begin with our poor discontinued friend, the Manatee:

Manatee

Is it possible to get fat eating only lettuce? For Manatee, anything is possible! If your spirit animal is Manatee, you are a master of joy, charm and magickal glamour. Tilt your head just right, and people might even believe you’re a mermaid. These cows of the sea are always smiling as if they carry a precious secret. And they do—Manatees are one of the only creatures to benefit from climate change, as melting ice caps enlarge their coastal habitats. People may laugh at you now, Manatee, but they won’t be laughing when you take over Miami.

Parakeet

Birds of prey scour the skies, eking out a living from prairie and tundra. Hummingbirds hover patiently, sipping the smallest drops from countless flowers. But certain cleverer birds have trained humans to get their meals for them. The Parakeet spirit teaches us that hard work and individuality are totally overrated. People who are drawn to Parakeet energy know when to sit still, look pretty, and let the birdseed roll on in. Call on Parakeet for domestic happiness and the great blessing of caring less.

Sloth

Sloth wisdom is all about doing your own thing in your own time. What’s the hurry? The worst that could happen is someone naming a deadly sin after you. People with Sloth energy tend to be above it all—and better yet, behind it all. Fun fact: Sloth’s sluggish metabolism means it only evacuates once every ten days. This makes it arguably the least crappy spirit animal.

Squirrel

These industrious rodents spend much of their time burying nuts for the winter and digging them up again. Once upon a time, people marveled at Squirrel’s memory for retrieving its hoard. Now we know that the critters don’t actually remember where they buried anything—they’re just finding food buried by other Squirrels. The Squirrel spirit teaches us forethought and perseverance. But it also reminds us that our best-laid plans are at the mercy of other forgetful vagrants. Like many foragers, Squirrel is specially attuned to the movement of the seasons (but less attuned, sadly, to the movement of cars).

Clownfish

The stinging arms of the sea anemone are no problem for the Clownfish, who gleefully darts where other fish fear to go. As a Clownfish-spirited person, you have a super-heroic tolerance for unpleasant situations. Your thick skin means you can go anywhere and do anything. The downside for Clownfish? Nobody likes your friends. You’re also kind of silly-looking, and you have the word “clown” in your name. Meditating on Clownfish will help you to appreciate the marvelous interconnectedness of all beings (and feel less bad that your spirit animal isn’t the Salmon).

https://www.groveandgrotto.com/blogs/articles/the-wisdom-of-sloth-embracing-the-lesser-known-spirit-animals-1

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btspremiumtrash · 4 years ago

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Cirque de Bangtan (j.jk x p.jm) part 2

⇓ Ship: Jeongguk x Jimin

⇓ Genre: Series, Non-idol! AU, Enemies to Lovers, Supernatural AU, Circus AU, Eventual Smut

⇓ Summary: Jeongguk recently moved from Busan to big city Seoul. His parents kicked him out. Something about “You’re 22 and still living with your parents. Get the hell out and get a damn job!”

He couldn’t hear them as he was two steps ahead of them by packing up his bags and slamming the door in their faces. Every interview he got, he never heard back from them. Most of his days were spent just trying to find somewhere to rest his head and drown his sorrows. Life is hard when things aren’t spoon-fed to you as Jeongguk comes to realize.

Now he’s all by his lonesome. Luckily for him, he finds a flyer. A potential job. A circus job yes, but he was desperate for any sort of payment. Little did he know, life as he knew it was about to get a whole lot more interesting... Werewolves. Vampires. Clowns. Not even God could prepare Jeongguk for the complete turnaround on his once normal lifestyle.

⇓ Word ct.: 3.9k

⇓ Warnings: cussing, pg-13

⇓ Chapter 1

Masterlist

Jeongguk was woken up by his alarm he set for himself at an ungodly—6:00 pm—hour. He wanted to get a head start for the new job that he had to be there for at 8:00 pm for his first opening performance.

His new job.

Those three words were still new to him. He couldn’t believe that in a few hours, he would be working his first shift. Doing something he was already doing, granted. But baby steps. Now he was getting paid real money. Or so he hoped.

With newfound motivation in his steps, he cleaned himself up, parted his hair to the side, put on some black tight-fitting jeans along with a black graphic T-shirt, and was on his way out the door. He greeted the very nice and cute receptionist, Lalisa, on his way out. Her auburn bangs covered her luscious eyebrows while the rest of her hair was in a professional bun.

Lisa, as he likes to call her, was Jeongguk’s first friend outside of the ones his father forced him to keep in touch with. Big names like Kim Jennie and Mark Lee whose families worked together with the Jeons, hence why they wanted their kids to stay in touch if something were to ever happen to their successful businesses. It was always business first and family second with big names like theirs.

But Lisa was different. She was a foreigner. Her family started this hotel business when they got to Korea and prided themselves on bringing their Thai traditions of hospitality to Seoul and many other parts of South Korea. She grew up in the hospitality business and therefore knew how to comfort a lost soul like Jeongguk’s. She was the first person he ever spoke to that didn’t know about him, his name, his family, anything like that, and therefore he began to enlighten her about himself. It didn’t hurt his pride because, at that point in his life, he didn’t have any pride left.

“You look like you’ve got somewhere to be, huh?” She grinned.

Jeongguk stopped and walked up to her desk, giving her the same closed smile she cast his way. “Yeah. I finally got a job! Can you believe it?”

Shaking her head, she shrugged. “Can’t say that I do, Mr. Jeon, but if you say so...” She dragged until an idea came to mind. “Where do you work? Maybe I can end my shift early and drive you there if you want.”

Jeongguk froze. He didn’t want Lisa to find out he worked at a circus. His pride was finally kicking off and having Lisa drive him to his job would only knock it right back down again. He couldn’t afford that. Maybe some other time when he sees just how well they pay him. But he had to make up some sort of excuse that she would buy.

He shook his head. “Oh, I don’t think you have to drive me there. It’s only a fifteen-minute walk from here. I think I can manage. Thank you though.”

“Of course! Just be back here at a reasonable time tonight. Clients were a little upset to hear you and whatever company you brought over outside their door at 1 am. I don’t feel like vouching for you again.”

Company? Jeongguk remembered that Jimin walked him home the other night, and not out of the kindness of his heart. He wondered if Jimin even had a heart with the way he argued to Jimin about having a hotel being his permanent residence instead of an actual apartment. He kept rambling on about his poor life decisions as if he knew the shit he went through. He didn’t know a damn thing. He slammed the door on his face when he heard enough. Note to self: Don’t force Park Jimin to take you home.

“This is where you live?”

They just arrived at Jeongguk’s hotel room. Odd, Jeongguk thought since he quite vividly remembers Jimin saying that once they get to his block, he’s going home. Now he was standing right outside his place. Great. Maybe he won’t try and murder him in his sleep if he fucks up a performance, Jeongguk hoped. Despite the mental image of Jimin using a knife to slit his throat and laughing manically, Jeongguk still kept a level head. Getting the keycard out of his pocket, Jeongguk nonchalantly said, “It is. Problem?”

“Uh, yeah.” Jimin scoffed. “Why the fuck do you not live in an apartment like every other sane person?”

Jeongguk turned his attention toward the older man. He looked him up and down to see if he was seriously judging his lifestyle right now and sure enough, based on how deadly serious he looked, he wasn’t joking. “Who the fuck are you to judge?”

“Aren’t you a Jeon? You couldn’t have gone for a penthouse—”

Oh no. He played the family name card. Wrong move. Jeongguk pushed Jimin to the nearby wall and pinned him there. “Listen here, asshole. Yes, I’m a fucking Jeon. I’m Jeon Jeongguk. And I bought this hotel room because I didn’t feel like putting an even bigger dent in my pocket than I already have. But don’t think that because of my last name that I’m loaded. I wouldn’t need this stupid fucking job anyway—”

Jimin heard just about enough. Before he could insult his job, Jimin pushed Jeongguk back to his door, making a loud thud sound. Probably the noise the neighbors were complaining about to Lisa. Growling, Jimin locked eyes with the younger man—who was, unfortunately, taller than him and therefore had to look up to see him but that didn’t stop the sheer dominance he radiated off his body—and said, “Choose your next words very carefully, little one. I see now why your parents set you free on your own, brat. Now before I do something I may regret, I’m going to say this once and only once: Insult the circus or anyone working in Cirque de Bangtan, I will make your life even worse than it already is. You may have money, but I have claws. And trust me, they work a hell of a lot better than money.”

Jimin lets go of Jeongguk, who could hardly breathe even after being let go of. He’s gotten death threats on Overwatch before. But nothing like this. And no one like him. He was truly terrified. He dared ask what he meant by claws. Real claws? No way, werewolves don’t exist. But could they? He’s starting to think that they could.

Regardless, Jeongguk mustered up whatever courage he had left to let himself in his hotel room, slamming the door shut in fear that Jimin would try something. But to his surprise, Jimin didn’t kick down his door and slit his throat. Instead, he sighed and said, “Don’t be late tomorrow night. You’ve got the 8-10 shift.”

Jeongguk didn’t reply, too afraid that his voice might reflect how scared he was. He heard Jimin’s footsteps echoing down the hallway back to the elevator. Finally, he was gone. He breathed a sigh of relief.

There’s no way he signed up for this kind of job, right? It's not even Day 1 and he’s already gotten a death threat from his coworker. He felt a lump grow in his throat as he struggled to swallow it down. How the hell was he supposed to work with these people? He’s nothing like them.

The fight that he and Jimin had made Jeongguk go to bed a little earlier than he would’ve liked to. He needed his wet dreams about Lee Jieun. Only they would make up for the shitty night he had. And lucky they did. Otherwise, he would’ve never had the determination to go back to that circus job.

After reliving that horrible night in his head, he returned to planet Earth to give Lisa reassurance that he would never come home with Park Jimin ever again. “Yes ma’am.” He waved her goodbye as he left the hotel.

“Good.”

“Nice work, Jimin. You need some water?” Jimin’s best friend, Kim Taehyung, the clairvoyant vampire, asked him as Jimin came back from his performance of jumping through rings of fire in his wolf form. He nodded, to which Taehyung handed him a cold one from underneath his table.

The thrill of the crowd could be heard from possibly miles away and that wasn’t just because of Taehyung’s supernatural ability to hear even the slightest sound was exaggerating it. Jimin’s performance was arguably the one that brought in the most money for Cirque de Bangtan. No one questioned the existence of a werewolf. They’ve read enough Twilight to accept that they do exist. The only person who doesn’t know because he—along with his also sheltered friends—was shielded from these kinds of creatures is Jeongguk.

Taehyung’s shift already ended about thirty minutes ago when he predicted the futures of possibly ten people. That’s ten more people than the previous night, so there’s progress there. Were they right? Only the future (and Taehyung) knows for sure. Sometimes he told them what they wanted to hear. Other times he would tell the truth only if it was beneficial to them. And still, he found that he was paid more whenever he lied. Humans are so weird. Glad he was never one of them.

Jimin looked at his phone. Seven o’clock. Newbie’s shift would be starting soon. Only one problem: he didn’t smell Jeongguk anywhere. Meaning that either he got cold feet and quit his job before he could even arrive. Or he got mobbed by rogue wolves. He prayed for the former since Namjoon would kill him otherwise for not making sure he was safe. It was Namjoon’s voice at the back of his head that stopped Jimin from busting Jeongguk’s door open and teaching that brat some respect last night. And it’s currently that same man’s voice telling him to go look for him. I fucking hate you, Kim Namjoon. Get out of my goddamn head already.

“Worried about a certain someone?” Taehyung prodded. Of course, he knew the answer to this due to his clairvoyance. But it never hurt to ask.

He growled in irritation, appalled that Taehyung would even suggest that he was worried about that stubborn brat. “No. I’m worried about myself being ripped to shreds by a certain someone because I didn’t do my job.”

Crossing his arms, Taehyung felt like being a bit more a bother to his friend than usual. So, he kept poking at the wolf. “Really? Seems to me like you are.”

“Now isn’t the time for jokes, Tae. You do know that—”

“Ko Ko Bop is in town? Or to be more specific will be in town? They aren’t here now, but they will be in due time. I’m thinking in about two weeks. Care to bet with me?”

It’s always a game with someone like Taehyung. He knows the outcomes, so why even bother with being serious. He told Seokjin and Namjoon yesterday about the predictions, but he left out the future tense of will be, which prompted Namjoon to recruit Jeongguk quicker than he would’ve liked. Namjoon would’ve liked for Jeongguk to find out about Cirque de Bangtan the natural way of just stumbling upon it or a friend bringing him here and him liking it so much that he would end up working for them. Not end up hearing about it via a flyer. But no matter because Jeongguk had accepted. Now it was a matter of time until they would become the number one circus in the whole world as they so rightfully deserve.

Jimin huffed at the mischievous vampire, giving into his gambling. He doesn’t know why he indulges in this behavior. But he does know that no other member could handle it. Hence why he and Taehyung make a great duo. “I’d say a week.”

“Good. And what does the winner get?”

“A get-out-of-jail-free card.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes in boredom. “Come on, man. You can’t be serious.”

Jimin crossed his arms, a smile playing across his face. “Oh, but I am. You never know when you need someone to bail you out. What if you accidentally kill someone from drinking too much from them? Then what? Who else is gonna put up with you? Because let me tell you, that’s a full-time job, mister.”

Taehyung gasped in shock and put a hand to his heart to display—dramatically—how hurt he was that Jimin would say that. “How dare you! I have not overdrunk in years! I know how to control myself, unlike some people...”

Jimin scoffed. “And what are you implying?”

“Oh, don’t think I forgot about how hungry you were that you got rid of the last recruit before he made it to the door,” Taehyung sassed. “Let’s hope this recruit will be able to perform before you sink your teeth into him, hmm?”

And at the mention of the recruit, Jimin finally caught his scent. It was hard to miss. Did he put on cologne? His scent was usually softer than what he was smelled of. Whatever. He was here now, meaning he hadn’t gotten mauled by wolves and Jimin can live another night.

Noticing that Jimin didn’t hit him with another snarky remark, he knew that he had other things on his mind, making the vampire smirk. He put a hand on his friend’s shoulder, prompting him to leave his tent. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

Before Jimin could respond to him, he was pushed out of Taehyung’s tent and right into Jeongguk’s built chest. Fuck, was he that much taller than him? That’s a thought he had put to the side for now. While Jeongguk was apologizing profusely, Jimin couldn’t care less. Right now, he had to show Jeongguk to the performance tent where he would be putting on his first show.

“Took you long enough, brat. Let’s get you ready. Follow me.”

Jeongguk was led to a tent near the bigger one in the center by Jimin. It took him a few more minutes than expected to get to the circus. To be fair, if he didn’t see the big crowd that was leaving the circus, he would’ve lost his way there and miss his first performance and probably lose his job. He could’ve used his phone. If it wasn’t for the fact that he didn’t charge it while he was sleeping last night. Too freaked out by Jimin, he needed an ample amount of YouTube and Pornhub to get his mind off him and drift peacefully to sleep. But now here he was, right next to where his nightmares began.

Jimin pushed Jeongguk inside the tent. “You have ten minutes to put on something in there. Don’t worry; we washed everything before you came today. When you’re done, come on out.”

“Yessir,” Jeongguk exclaimed to Jimin. He looked around the tent and the many drawers and closets within. His eyes fell to the darker wooden closet. He opened it and found the outfit of the night. A black glittering tuxedo with dark purple stripes and a white dress shirt with black buttons. Oh yeah, this was an outfit for the one and only Jeon Jeongguk to rock. He even found shoes that fit him surprisingly well since he never told them his shoe size. Maybe they had another member that coincidentally had the same shoe size as him. That would have to be his best bet for now because Jimin was an impatient man.

His back turned to the wall of the tent while humming to himself, he didn’t hear Jimin opening the flap to give Jeongguk a five-minute warning. Jimin caught the sight of Jeongguk’s bare toned golden back. He works out? Because goddamn does it show. It was only a glimpse but Jimin so desperately wishes he had the power to reverse time to see it again and again. Or perhaps the power to stop time altogether and snap a picture for his pleasure.

Wait a sec.

His pleasure?

No way.

There’s no way he’s falling for this brat. He would kill himself twice if that was the case. He ducked out before Jeongguk turned back around. Maybe his wolf is acting up because his heat is coming soon. He hated it so much because he would have to take the whole week off so that he wouldn’t kill the customers. He didn’t like leaving the circus since his performance draws in the most attention and therefore the most money. But alas, he can’t control his wolf during times like those, so he was helpless to change that fact. It’s moments like these that make him regret becoming this hairy creature.

Meanwhile, Jeongguk put on the finishing piece of a sparkling purple bow tie and matching top hat. He looked like a circus freak. Like one of those ringleaders, he thought. Oh well, couldn’t get any more embarrassing from here on out.

He went outside to greet Jimin, unaware of the peeping Tom and what he witnessed in the dressing tent. Jimin continued as if he didn’t see what he saw and felt whatever it was he did. Leading the boy to the back entrance of the main tent. The audience was chatting rather loudly, waiting for their next form of entertainment to grace their presence. In that domineering voice that made Jeongguk shrink into his shoes, he leaned forward to Jeongguk’s ear. “Don’t mess this up, little one.”

Somehow, Jeongguk was able to respond to Jimin despite the tone of voice Jimin spoke to him with that would usually render him speechless. In fact, with that same cockiness that he was born and raised with. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

Jeongguk stepped into the tent, silencing the crowd. Immediately, the speakers blared with a voice that resembled that of that Kim Seokjin fellow he remembered meeting yesterday. “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our newest member of Cirque de Bangtan, The Top Hat Singer!”

The Top Hat Singer? Why that name of all names for him? Whatever. He’ll have to change his stage name eventually. For now, he needed to provide to the audience the “Singer” part of his newfound name. And boy, did he intend to.

The lights went out for a split second, only to return with all lights on Jeongguk. He gulped, realizing that singing in acapella would have to do for his first performance. He could’ve gotten away with just singing “FOOLS” again. But he wanted to prove that he was versatile enough to sing other songs. So, he went with “2U”. Based on how Seokjin was the announcer, he would surely be listening to his song. Maybe that could change his opinion on having a singer as a performer in a circus. If he was able to woo the crowd that was.

But judging by how they were swaying along with his voice, he had a feeling that he was doing a better job than both he and Seokjin thought he would. It was Jimin however, who knew that the brat had a pair of good lungs on him and never doubted him for a second, hence why he lingered to listen to his voice for a few more minutes before he left. After all, he’s been watching him since the beginning. Although he still wishes that it was him up there singing a duet with the boy, he pushes those feelings aside, choosing instead to go back to his tent. His work for the day was done. Including his overtime with Jeongguk.

When Jeongguk’s performance ended, the crowd was in an uproar, demanding an encore, despite Jeongguk singing nonstop song after song. He felted empowered. Like he could get used to this attention. He took his bow and picked up the flowers and money the audience threw his way. The speakers went off again with Kim Namjoon as the speaker this time. “As much as The Top Hat Singer would love to sing for you all for the rest of the night, the circus is closing soon. He will be back tomorrow and on behalf of Cirque de Bangtan, we hope you also return. Have a wonderful night, ladies and gentlemen.”

It was almost sad to hear the audience sighs of disappointment, but the sound of them cheering for Jeongguk to continue drowned out all those negative feelings. This is the attention he needed. Not because of his family’s wealth or their talents. But because of his talents. Now that he had experienced it, there was no way he was letting this job go.

“He’s hooked,” Seokjin pointed out to Namjoon.

Namjoon looked at that light in Jeongguk’s eyes. He truly enjoyed his first performance. He inclined his head. “So, should we tell him?”

Seokjin shrugged. “You’re the leader, Namjoon. It’s your call.”

“Hmm...” Namjoon hummed to himself, trying to debate whether or not to drop the bomb on Jeongguk. Then he makes up his mind. “We tell him tomorrow night.”

Seokjin exhaled like he was exhausted already. “Oh boy. I’ll need a bottle of soju. I can tell that he won’t take it well. With him being a Jeon and all.”

They both laughed at each other, but quickly silencing themselves and leaving the tent when Jeongguk turned around to try and figure out where that laughter came from. He couldn’t find them, so he picked up his money and flowers and headed off to the dressing tent to change back his clothes.

In the dressing tent, he was met by the card dealer of the group, Jeong Hoseok. Wearing a red shimmering suit with a black dress shirt and matching red shoes. He even had on shades despite it being pitch black out here. He looked Jeongguk up and down and cocked his head to the side. “Are you new here or something because I’ve never seen a face like yourself.”

Jeongguk nodded. “Just did my first singing performance not too long ago.”

“Ah, so that was your performance,” Hoseok said, taking off his shades. “Thought it was Jimin doing overtime. Only he could get the crowd that riled up. Glad to know that he has an equal. Maybe even his superior.” He winked at that last part which made Jeongguk’s cheeks flush a shade of red he never thought he could until now.

Hoseok held a hand out for Jeongguk to shake. “Name’s Jeong Hoseok. I’m the card dealer and the opening performer for the circus.”

Jeongguk shook his head, introducing himself as well. “Jeon Jeongguk... You might know my family based on my surname but I’m nothing like—”

“Who?”

Jeongguk’s train of thought stopped. He thought he would have to deal with another Jimin incident where he already knew about his family and used that as fuel to get Jeongguk fired up. Luckily, this was more of a Lisa situation where he knew nothing about the Jeons. He would take the latter over the former any day. So, instead of getting into his whole family history, he simply said, “Nevermind.”

The tent was silent. Awkwardly silent. Jeongguk wanted to change his clothes in peace. It’s bad enough he barely knew these people. But it’s even worse for them to see parts of him that he rather stay hidden from their prying eyes. As if sensing Jeongguk’s awkwardness, Hoseok put his shades on the back of his head. “Alright, I’m gonna head out. Stay safe out there, kid. See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, you too,” Jeongguk said as Hoseok walked out. Finally, Jeongguk could undress without any unwanted attention on him.

He dressed in his attire from earlier in the night when he first arrived and headed back to his hotel room. What a night tonight was.

#btswriterscollective #bts jeon jeongguk #jeon jeongguk #BTS jungkook #non idol au #PG-13 #bts jeongguk #bts smut #jimin x jungkook #supernatural au

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sterekismylove8-blog · 7 years ago

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Part One (Chapter 1) Scott to narrate: - Okay, no panic, Scott. You'll be fine, alone in this dark and dangerous forest. Oh my gosh! - I tried to calm myself. My best friend, Stiles, dragged me into the woods in the middle of the night to come and find a body. Yeah, I know how that sounds, but his dad is the sheriff of Beacon County. Then, since nothing ever happens in this town, Stiles decided that it was exciting to come looking for a body, or half of it. When we were looking, Sheriff Stilinski appeared and dragged Stiles with him. I was hiding so he wouldn't catch me too and so I stayed here alone and without a ride home. So I'm in panic and about to lose my mind because I just fell into a hole and found the half of the body we were looking for. - Okay, time to run! - I yelled at nothing and started running like crazy. Then I heard a loud howl and I stopped, afraid. I heard something coming towards me and I was suddenly thrown to the ground by some sort of animal that I couldn't identify. -AHHHHHHH! - I yelled as I felt him bite me. I managed to escape and ran at full speed onto the road. *** Stiles to narrate: - No, no and no. You were not bitten by a wolf. - I said to Scott. - You were not there, you can't know. - He shrugged. - What I do know is that there have been no wolves in Beacon Hills for over 60 years. - I said to him. - This is true? - Yes, Scott, it's true. And how do you explain the fact that you don't have a scar? - I have no idea. - Scott ran his hands through his hair. - I just know she healed. Fully! - This is the most fantastic thing that has happened in this city since the birth of Lydia Martin. - I said as I saw her walk towards us. - Hey, Lyds! - I gave her a small kiss on the cheek and she smiled at me. - Hey, Stiles! What is the most fantastic thing about my birth? - It's hard to explain. - I scratched my head. - Okay! - She shrugged. - We'll study later? - I'd love to, babe, but we have the practices, and then I have to help Scott find his asthma bomb. - You're so head in the air, Scottie! - She teased him and tousled her hair a little. - Okay, guys, I'll see you later. - See you, Lyds. - Scott gave her a kiss on the top of her head and she went on her way. - Lydia's perfect. There's only one little flaw... - Yeah, I know. To date that idiot Jackson. - I said. - Let's go to class. - I hit Scott's back and we went to class. *** Scott to narrate: -This is so weird. - I said quietly to myself. - How can I hear that girl's conversation? She's meters from the room. I lost myself in my thoughts until the director entered the room and introduced the girl. - This is Allison Argent. She's new here. She has undergone many changes, attended many schools and I sincerely hope this is her last stop. Make her feel welcome. He talk but I could only think how beautiful she was. She came to sit right behind me and as I had heard she needed a pen I took one and offered it. She looked at me in surprise but then smiled. - Thank you. I really needed one. I smiled and looked back at the painting but couldn't stop seeing her smile. *** Lydia to narrate: - What the fuck is your problem? Invite the loser of Stiles to study? Run your little hands through Scott's hair? - Jackson was annoyed with me. - That's not your problem. They were already my friends before you were my boyfriend. So see if you calm down and focus on keeping your place as team captain. - I said to him and turned away. I saw a girl at the foot of the locker. She looked young at school and was smiling at Scott. Interesting! I walked there. - I love your coat! Where did you get it? - I commented. - Oh, my mom bought it from a boutique in San Francisco. - she answered. - And you're my new best friend.- I told her and I grabbed her by the arm. - Come on, I'll introduce you. She smiled sheepishly and walked with me. I went to Stiles and Scott. - Hey, guys, I want you to meet the new student. - I said and turned to face her. - What's your name again? - Allison. - Allison. She and Scott both said at the same time, and Stiles and I both smiled. - Did you know each other? -I asked. - We have classes together. I looked at Stiles and he nodded. - Okay. So, Allison, this is Scott McCall. At first sight it's not a big deal... - I joked and he murmured a big thank you. - Only he's a good friend. And this... - I grabbed Stiles's arm. - It's Stiles Stilinski. Son of the sheriff, Scott's best friend, and mine too, and the king of sarcasm. - What can I do? I have sixty-seven pounds of white skin and fragile bones. Sarcasm is my only defense. - He shrugged. - Well, girls, it's really nice to talk to you, but we got the tests for the lacrosse team. - Scott said. - He means our humiliation in front of the team. - Stiles said. - I invite you to watch and have some fun. - Okay, we're going. - I said and Allison nodded. *** Stiles to narrate: - What you did today was incredible!- I told Scott as we walked in the woods. - I know. It's not too much? I told you I had trained. - Yeah, but what you did was incredible. I mean, even impossible. Completely. - Thank you for believing in me so much.- He laughed. -This is where I lost the bomb and saw the body. He stopped and went down to look for the bomb. - Half of the body. - I corrected. - Hey, what are you doing here? - a man asked. I hit Scott's head and he stood up. The boy walked towards us. - What are you doing here? This is private property. - Sorry. - I replied. - We were looking for something my friend lost. He threw us Scott's bomb. - Now go away. - He turned away and started to walk away. - Dude, you know who he is? - I asked. - I have no idea! - How come you do not know who he is? - I looked at Scott like he was stupid. - I don't know, Stiles, I never even saw him. - Dude, that's Derek Hale. - And... - AND? His entire family died in a fire ten years ago. - I don't remember any of this. - Wind head. I hope those talents you're getting involve a bit of extra memory. Scott shook his head. - That Derek guy looks bad, don't you think? - Scott commented. - Maybe it's just like this because the only person who didn't die in that fire was just murdered. - I said sarcastically and Scott shook his head, confused. - The body we're looking for is Derek's sister. Laura Hale. I got this information earlier today near my father. He went down unintentionally. I don't want to talk, but my qualities are magnificent.- I clarified. - Maybe we should leave now. Derek gave us a deadly look. - I'm going to give my condolences. - Stiles, no. - Scott tried to stop me, but it wasn't on time. - So, Derek, you probably shouldn't know who we are... - Stiles Stilinski and Scott McCall. And I thought I told you to leave. - He answered coldly. - Okay, you know who we are. - I scratched my head. - Well, we came to give you our condolences. We're sorry for your loss. - Thanks. - He answered and left. - Very sympathetic. - I complained. - Let's go now? - Scott asked. - It's all right. - I surrendered and we went to my jeep. I left Scott at home and went to mine. I lay down and strangely Derek's face appeared in my mind. He was a strange boy and I must admit he is very attractive. - What the fuck...? - I rebuked my own thoughts. - Time to sleep, Stiles, time to sleep!

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torentialtribute · 6 years ago

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Premier League betting guide: Expect goals galore as Tottenham host Liverpool

Liverpool and Tottenham start the final round Premier League matches with the table-toppers who want to make five of them

All big six are in action on Saturday, while boys in the Westham cellar will desperately try a

This is our game-by-game guide for the weekend plus a few extra bets in the Football League and Scotland.

All Premier League kick-offs 15.00 Saturday, unless otherwise stated.

Tottenham against Liverpool – 12.30 Saturday

When we come back from one break, Tottenham fans hope Gary Neville is wrong when he says Harry Kane can do it any longer. Neville, who speaks on Sky Sports in Midweek, thinks that Kane looked mentally because he scored high on the World Cup and that he had benefited from a decent rest during the recent internationals after not having had one since 2015. But as expected, Kane, who was directly involved in seven goals in the many top game games against Liverpool (five goals, two assists), is preferred in the goal-maker markets – first and always – for lunch attunement at Wembley. Yet five out of the next six players are entering the unbridled Reds with the likes of Mo Salah, Roberto Firmino and Sadio Mane for Spurs & Lucas Moura and Christian Eriksen. Dele Alli and keeper Hugo Lloris were injured for the hosts, which is good news for Liverpool, who is 16/5 (Marathon) to win with scoring teams. Tottenham is 15/4 (multiple companies) while each score is a draw (probably the best bet) is 17/5 with Bet Victor. We are banking to make the game of the weekend true, Salah and Kane both to score is 4/1 with Betway and if a match is worth it to score both teams in both halves, this is this – 9 / 1 at Bet365.

Bournemouth v Leicester

The visitors welcome Jamie Vardy back from his suspension with three games, but with that dull red card against Wolves and his international (kind of) retirement , he has not kicked a ball for almost a month. His side did well and won the spider three times in all leagues before giving Liverpool the first real shock of the season for the final time-out. Bournemouth has either been shabby and in their last twelve league matches at home, only Manchester United and Tottenham have left with maximum points. Two teams that will be hard to beat and the case to support the draw will be even stronger if you look at their mutual relationship: six Premier League meetings with three 1-1 & # 39; s, two goalless draw and a 1-0 victory in Bournemouth on the south coast in December 2016. You can get 5/2 (different companies). It is all square and Bet Victor is 19/4. It is equal to half-time and full-time

Chelsea v Cardiff

We knew before Maurizio Sarri was a good football manager before he arrived in the capital and four victories of four have only improved his reputation. He is also a & # 39; amazing & # 39; man, according to the once-born Blues defender David Luiz, who played every minute under Sarri after being brought back after being eliminated when Antonio Conte was in charge. Look at the will of Luiz (17/2 Paddy Power / Betfair) on the scoring market wherever you want, because Chelsea could rattle a few and share them – Marcos Alonso is better than 3/1 with a few bookmakers. It is a shy shadow of Alvaro Morata and Eden Hazard to come on the score sheet, Pedro with three in his last four is 7/5 (Bet365), while Chelsea with more than 3.5 goals in the game is 8/5 with Betfair.

It was a disappointing start of the season for These two, but while Palace has been in limbo since Fulham was defeated on the opening weekend, Huddersfield can get the least positive points from their recent versions. They have returned from sending nine goals in two games to Chelsea and Man City and claimed a point in Goodison Park last time after restricting Everton to only one shot on goal. Can the Eagles, with only one goal in their last three matches, be better than the Toffees? The visitors are no better than 6/4 to win in West Yorkshire and although it looks like it is a long season for the hosts, there is some attraction in the 23/10 for them to pick up their first victory of the campaign .

Manchester City against Fulham

Bookies have this the biggest mismatch of the weekend, despite Chelsea hosting Cardiff, and City are no better than 1/8 with Fulham available at 28/1. It should be easy to win, but the City Defense has been breached by Huddersfield, Wolves and Newcastle in their last three matches on Fulham side with Aleksandar Mitrovic and at least can give traveling fans something to cheer for. A home win where both teams score is 6/4 with a few bookies, while the approvers of the score may want to be 3-1 at 10/1 (different companies) or 4-1 at 14s (bet365).

Newcastle v Arsenal

Arsenal and Man United were away from home in their last matches before the international break, both won and now they are back on track. But for the first time since Arsene Wenger was a much younger man, we need to have more confidence in supporting the Gunners. Their victory at Cardiff after being linked was very different from the Arsenal that we are used to and everything like the same should be enough to claim the points and a third consecutive victory. We were both at Pierre-Emerick Aubameyang and Alexandre Lacazette both to score at 7/2 when Unai Emery founded them together for the first time in Wales and we are looking for him and them again in the same way. This week the deadly duo is 4/1 (Sky Bet). Arsenal is 20/21 to win.

As the international holiday (19459012)

Watford, who won the first game against Chelsea in the first round. They lost 12 of their last 13 games against Manchester United but did not compete against those matches on the back of such a rush. They will represent their chances this time, and the stat has already been driven away, but it's worth repeating, as Javi Gracia's first home game was in charge in February, his record in his own field of seven victories , two draws and one defeat of the 10 games is better than any other team in the division. While Watford defeated Spurs fourteen days ago, United and Romelu Lukaku rediscovered their mojo while the Belgian scored both goals in a victory over Burnley. They are almost as far off across the board as to make a profit twice, but Vicarage Road will be a harder test than Turf Moor and a draw is the choice here. Lukaku leads the goal scorers bet 9/2 for the opener and 6/4 at any time, but Troy Deeney, who changed the game for Watford against Spurs, is 10/3 only to score (Marathon) and 9/1 with Betway to break the impasse

Because of their early

Troy Deeney (right) will have Man United in his sights after defeating Spurs – season mini-adventure in Europe, Burnley has played twice as many games as most teams in the division, but in 10 outings they only beat Aberdeen and Istanbul Basaksehir – both after extra time. Their league run has been miserable, three consecutive defeats after a scoreless draw with Southampton, so Wolves starts the odds-on at Molineux – 4/5 at Betfred is as good as it gets. They are 4/1 to win with a margin of two goals, while 2-0 is 7/1.

Everton versus West Ham – sixteen sunday

Everton looked like a home banker against Huddersfield last time – and then the game started and they did not look good. That should not stop you from supporting them this time, especially against better than evens (different companies), because they remain undefeated and seem to move in the right direction, despite the wobbling against the Terriers. They should be good for the Hammers, but a half-time draw, full-time home win (9/2) could be worth it because the visitors only left 45 minutes after the opening this season – in their 4th

Southampton against Brighton – 8:00 pm Monday

Southampton is looking for back-to-back league victories for the first time since April 2017 and while Mark Hughes will be desperate to get that monkey from his back, the more urgent issue is the injury concerns three of his strikers – Charlie Austin, Shane Long and Danny Ings. For all three it is more whining than big care and Hughes has an extra few days to prepare them. If the Saints boss, who already won Brighton in the EFL Cup this season, can reach his ideal position on Monday-evening, his team should have had enough to beat it and on 23/10 with a few companies the trouble of cleaning up.

BEST WEEKEND COLLEGE

HOUSES: Everton, Wolves, Brentford, Carlisle, Rangers AWAYS: Arsenal , Derby, Barnsley, Lincoln 15/1 various firms & # 39; s

DRAWS: Bournemouth v Leicester, St Johnstone against Aberdeen, Queen of the South v Ross County 38/1 ALL TEMPORARY SCORER TREBLE: Troy Deeney, Peter, Callum Wilson

Both teams score in first half: Millwall v Leeds, Motherwell v Hearts 21/1 bet365 / Sky Bet

oddschecker

– subject to change

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#Premier League betting guide: Expect goals galore as Tottenham host Liverpool"

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coddingtonguitar90-blog · 7 years ago

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Five Game of Thrones Theories That Worked And Five That Flopped

There are a lot of reasons to love HBO'sGame of Thrones. One is the rich setting created by author George R.R. Martin and showrunners David Benioff and D.B. Weiss. Another is the vast array of well-developed characters, from the tormented Tyrion and Heisenbergian Cersei to the pure-hearted Jon Snow and steely-eyed Dany. Yet another is the rich and unbelievable war cinematography, the likes of which has given us the best on-screen battles since Helm's Deep in Lord of the Rings.

But the most important factor in the show's exponential growth? The series' online fandom and, in particular, the abundance of theoreticians that try to predict aspects of the series' plot and characters. Their postulations have stoked deeper interest in the series' characters. They've kept the general audience interested by doing much of their theorizing during out-of-season months. They've built casual observers into fans; they've built fans into superfans. And the work they do is heaps of fun.

Of course, not every Game of Thrones theory is correct. Some work out in the end, but far more crash and burn upon arrival, even if they're entertaining to read and chew on. Below, we've collected five theories that have either been proven true or have been widely assumed to be true, in addition to a handful of theories that stretch the facts far beyond their limits to support a claim. Check them all out below, especially if you're sick of waiting for the beginning of season seven.

After all, Winter arrives again this Sunday. __________________________________________________________

Five Theories That Totally Worked

R+L=J

What is it?

Jon Snow isn't Ned Stark's bastard he's the offspring of Rhaegar Targaryen and Ned's sister Lyanna. To date, this is the most central mystery that Game of Thrones has resolved. It's so core to the story that, according to legend, David Benioff and D.B. Weiss had to guess it correctly in order to secure the television rights from George R.R. Martin. And it's been around long enough that almost everyone who knew the slightest bit of A Song of Ice and Fire lore had called it by the time the truth was revealed in last season's finale. Hell, there's even a spin-off theory making the rounds, with some corners of the Internet suggesting that Meera Reed (who's chilling with Bran up north) is really Jon's twin sister.

What's the significance?

Jon is still an illegitimate child, but now that we know he's a surviving son of Rhaegar Targaryen, he has a legitimate claim to the Iron Throne, equal to or perhaps greater than Daenerys' own claim. And what with Bran having seen the flashback that confirmed R+L=J, Jon has a way of finding out the truth and announcing to the world that he's the true ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. That said, Jon doesn't seem to lust for power, so it's more likely that having the blood of the dragon will instead benefit him in his battle against the white walkers. In fact, Jon's parentage is perhaps the best support thus far for another widespread theory: that he is Azor Ahai, the prince who was promised, a prophesied hero who will probably save the day at series' end. The prince is supposed to wake dragons out of stone, and the Targaryens are the only known noble house with control over dragons. __________________________________________________________

Benjen = Coldhands

What is it?

Benjen Stark, brother to the long-deceased Ned, went north of the Wall on a ranging party with the Night's Watch in Season 1. He never returned. Everyone in Westeros assumed he had died but the fans thought otherwise. As many of them predicted, Benjen was eventually revealed to be Coldhands, a legendary wight-like being who seems to have sided with the good guys against the white walkers.

What's the significance?

Maybe nothing! Interestingly, this looks like a place where the show has departed from the books; Martin has vehemently and repeatedly denied that Benjen and Coldhands are the same person. Unfortunately for viewers, the discrepancy might indicate that Coldhands' identity isn't going to make much of a difference in the long game-Benioff and Weiss are faithful to A Song of Ice and Fire's big-picture plot, but they're free to combine minor characters and tweak certain arcs to fit their medium. Such is the price of Martin's glacial writing pace: he no longer has complete control over his own narrative.

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Littlefinger Knows Arya is Alive

What is it?

Fans have been wondering about this ever since Arya fearfully filled some cups during Littlefinger's Season 2 meeting with Tywin Lannister. Littlefinger being Littlefinger, he cast some curious glances at the Stark daughter but said nothing to his business partner about the matter. (Would Book-Littlefinger have made it so obvious? Certainly not, but in the world of television, implication must have a strong visual basis.) In the last couple weeks, actor Aidan Gillen clarified matters: Yes, Littlefinger knew that was Arya, and yes, he wasn't just buttering up Sansa when he hold her that her sister was alive.

What's the significance?

Littlefinger has made it this far in the game because he knows more than any other person in the Seven Kingdoms (except perhaps Varys). We're not in Book-land, where an impostor Arya Stark suffers Ramsay Bolton's marriage while Sansa sits safely in the Vale. Here in TV-land, most of Westeros assumes Arya has been dead since her father lost his head. Knowledge that Arya lives will certainly help Lord Baelish manipulate Sansa and Jon, and she might even provide him a backup plan should his Sansa strategy fail to work out.

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Nymeria Will Return

What is it?

In the series' first episode, each of the Stark children adopted a direwolf pup. Jon Snow's Ghost is the only known survivor among them, but Arya's direwolf Nymeria has been MIA since early in the first season. Most fans think the beast is currently leading a pack of wolves that's been ravaging the Riverlands, thanks to Arya's recurring first-person wolf dreams-she wouldn't be the first Stark to have warging abilities. It's not officially confirmed, but Time's cover story on the show strongly indicated that we'll be seeing Nymeria and her lupine army at some point this season.

What's the significance?

It's hard to say. Arya's the most enigmatic of the remaining main cast-at this point, the only guarantee is that she's going to continue her murderous revenge rampage. On one hand, reuniting with Nymeria might remind her of her Stark family roots and her humanity, chilling her bloodlust for a time. On the other hand, if Arya figures out how to control her warging powers, Nymeria presents her with another deadly weapon in her arsenal. There are still quite a few people left on her list, including Melisandre, who happens to be heading right toward Arya as of the Season 6 finale. The youngest Stark daughter would probably love nothing more than to tear into the Red Woman's flesh with the jaws of a direwolf.

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Jamie Will Kill Cersei

What is it?

The theory is far from definitive, and the Reddit hivemind has speculated that anyone from Jon Snow to Arya Stark to Gregor Clegane will murder the Mad Queen. But the established majority opinion for now appears to be that Jaime, born a few minutes after Cersei, will be the culprit. More importantly, the collected evidence, laid out beautifully here, strongly favors this theory. The most crucial bit deals with a prophecy foretelling that Cersei would be strangled to death by valonqar, the Valyrian word for little brother. For years, she assumed this would be Tyrion, but given the way the narrative has progressed-see the icy look Jaime casts upon his sister as she takes the Iron Throne-she likely placed her suspicion on the wrong brother the whole time.

What's the significance?

Narrative-wise, this would be the perfect capstone on both Jaime's and Cersei's arcs. Jaime ended Robert's Rebellion by killing Aerys Targeryen to save the realm, so committing the very same act upon his own sister would complete that circle. Moreover, Jaime has rehabilitated his image over the course of the series, leaving his dishonorable Kingslayer and Bran-pusher identity behind in favor of a moral code and deep respect for his position as a guardian of the Seven Kingdoms' well-being. Killing Cersei to prevent another insane monarch's lunacy would cement this legacy. And Cersei's tragedy would be complete under this theory, as Jaime is the one remaining earthly object she might be said to love (even though she may only love the parts of Jaime that reflect her self-image and personality). In this scenario, Cersei loses everything. __________________________________________________________

Five Theories That Totally Didn't

The Lannister Honeypot

What is it?

Back in Seasons 2 and 3, Robb Stark fell in love with a girl, a healer named Talisa (in the books, this is Jeyne Westerling). Talisa was one of the series' stronger female characters, full of intrigue and strong moral fiber. After a short while, she had gained enough influence over the Young Wolf to convince him to marry her instead of fulfilling his betrothal to one of the Freys. And that betrayal eventually got him killed at the Red Wedding, which was orchestrated by none other than Walder Frey and Tywin Lannister. Was Talisa the femme fatale, the secret Lannister agent that brought down the North from within?

Why it didn't work

Well, Talisa was about to bear Robb an heir. That doesn't seem very secret agent-y. Also, she was brutally murdered at the Red Wedding. That also doesn't seem very secret agent-y. More than likely, Robb was just young and in love, and Talisa had the misfortune of stepping into the center of TV's messiest fictional landscape. __________________________________________________________

Benjen is Daario

What is it?

Before the show revealed that Benjen was actually Coldhands, Game of Thrones theorists loved to speculate about the elder Stark's fate. One Redditor postulated that Benjen had been recruited by Varys (or, rather, one of Varys' little birds) to go help Daenerys take the Iron Throne. Why? Because Benjen knew about Jon Snow's real parentage and that both surviving Targaryens-Jon and Dany-would be crucial to saving Westeros from the white walkers. So Benjen, according to the theory, faked his death, reemerged as the flamboyant Daario Naharis, and became Daenerys' lover to win her ear.

Why it didn't work

The show revealed that Benjen was actually Coldhands. So that's that. It's still possible that book-Benjen is book-Daario, especially in light of how fiercely Martin has denied the show's version of events, but as we explained earlier, Benjen's identity is probably immaterial if Benioff and Weiss were allowed to switch things up. Daario didn't even make the trip across the Narrow Sea at the end of Season 6, because Dany wanted to arrive free of a lover. You'd think that's when Benjen would've cast off his disguise. __________________________________________________________

Hodor the Horse, or Hodor the Great Other

What is it?

Season 6, Episode 2 revealed that Hodor had once been a stable boy named Wylis who could say more than just Hodor. Naturally, the Internet had a theory meltdown trying to crack the case. One Redditor posited that Hodor had once been a warg, that he had gone too far with his warging and wrecked his mind, and that he had thenceforth identified with a horse-his preferred warging animal, the way that Bran prefers to warg into his direwolf. This would have explained Hodor's horse-like behavior. Another Redditor went even further and suggested that deep within the crypts of Winterfell, young Wylis had become possessed by the Great Other: winter personified, whose real name was Hodor. And in its new human body, Hodor had escaped the castle built to confine it.

Why it didn't work

Just three episodes later, we found out that Wylis had been mentally experiencing his death mission over and over again for decades. Hold the door became Hodor as the poor young stable boy had his body sacrificed by Bran. With that tearjerking annihilation came the annihilation of all the beautiful, detailed Hodor theories scattered across the web. __________________________________________________________

Oedipal Tyrion

What it is?

This is perhaps the zaniest of all the theories you'll find online. The premise: Tyrion's real parents aren't Joanna and Tywin Lannister they're Daenerys and Drogo. A couple years ago, a Redditor pulled out some evidence that, at birth, Tyrion resembled Dany's stillborn fetus Rhaego. The theoretician further postulated that Mirri Maz Duur, the blood magician Dany mistakenly trusted to save Drogo, performed an ol' switcheroo across a three-decade timespan, moving fetal Tyrion from Dany's womb into Joanna's using Drogo's soul. The cherry on top is that Tyrion, having indirectly killed Drogo (and directly killed Tywin) will marry Daenerys, ascend to the Iron Throne, then blind himself when he discovers the truth.

Why it didn't work

Quite simply, this is insane. It hasn't definitively been proven false, per se. But aside from the mental contortions required to convert Tyrion into Oedipus, two factors shoot this theory down. First, much of the fandom now believes the well-reasoned argument that Tyrion's father is Aerys Targaryen. Second, whittling Martin's epic tale down to an Oedipus allegory would fly in the face of everything else we know about the story, minimizing the importance of Azor Ahai, the dragons, the white walkers, and the Song of Ice and Fire itself. This is the product of selective quotation, vivid imagination, and too much damn time since the most recent book of the series hit shelves. __________________________________________________________

Ser Pounce is Azor Ahai

youtube

What it is?

Alt Shift X, an Australian YouTuber, is one of the Internet's authoritative Game of Thrones theoreticians. So, when he posted the above video explaining why Tommen's cat Ser Pounce was actually the mythical hero destined to save the world from the white walkers, lots of people lost their minds.

Why it didn't work

It was a joke. As it turns out, those who watched to the very end of the video were treated with the real twist: Alt Shift X was making a point about conspiracy theories and how easy they are to create. Coincidences are everywhere, and in a series as long as Game of Thrones, there's bound to be enough material to put any two pieces of evidence together and claim that a cat might kill the Night King with a flaming sword. The Ser Pounce hypothesis thus serves as a tidy meta-lesson, putting theories in their rightful place-great fun, but nothing over which people should drive themselves crazy. Especially not now, this close to the end of the series and the resolution of all its mysteries.

Game of Thrones returns to HBO this Sunday, July 16th at 9 p.m. EST. Stay tuned for our weekly coverage.

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pvt-p-o-gold-blog · 7 years ago

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Theesa of Foltar

Theesa stepped out of her house; a small wooden hovel in Foltar, a mere ten miles from the forest Tordem. Most of the village was covered in trees anyway. This far south, the only things that weren't forest were where people had removed the trees. The elves frowned on this sort of thing, but Sturgis was a hard village to make it in. And no one had money to live in Droplet Hall. Especially since the Council had deposed the Lord of Water as Lord and Protector. Some said he had retreated to the Great Cave to live with the wild wolves and wolf-men. It didn't matter. It still meant that taxes were higher, and work was harder to come by. A homesteader in the Wash used to be able to get by comfortably. Now it was merchants and mercenaries that ruled, both the villages and Droplet Hall. Theesa had always been a mercenary of virtue. She never took on a job that hurt other people. This left her penniless often. There was plenty to be had if you could extort or steal, but then she would be no better than those vagabonds that spent every eve in the Dragon's Gut, groping serving girls and gulping ale like there would be no sunrise. Her father would be disgusted if she stooped so low. Better to be a bad sellsword and call yourself an adventurer than lie, cheat and steal and call it entrepreneurial. The edge of the village was not far from her house. She made her way to the edge where the forest boxed in the people of Foltar. A friend of hers had lost five sheep in the past week to an animal that did not hunt like a wolf. She hoped that something yet remained of the sheep. It had been a while since she'd had money for meat. Normous sat on his back step, watching his remaining sheep intently. He hadn't had many to begin with, and now had lost almost half of his flock. “If you stare long enough, one of them's bound to grow an extra head.” Theesa said. Normous was much taller than her, with a burly farmer's body. Never held a sword a day in his life, but for the shepard's crook that now lay across his lap. Back when Lord Volt had been in power, they had attended school together. It was now a rotting husk of a building, it's yard overgrown and the schoolhouse collapsing. But they had each other still . “Theesa!” Normous stood to greet her. Their hands danced as she tried to shake his, then she gave up and hugged him. He hugged her back, bending to more effectively do so. “I'm so glad you could make it. After that last taxer came, I've been fucked in every direction I turn.” “What are friends for?” She asked. “Here, let's go inside. I have some tea you might like, and we can chat. Then I'll show you the body.” He said. Theesa tilted her head, flowing blonde hair dripping onto her shoulder and then cascading over her back. “Only one?” Normous gave a little, involuntary shudder. “Let us not speak of it just yet. It is still daylight, so let our business be pleasant. Coming?” He beckoned her inside. Theesa wondered what could make such a large man shudder like that. Inside, his house was cleaner than hers. His plates and utensils sat empty and ready. There were two steaks cooking, which Theesa had to try very hard not to cheer about. A lion skin hung on the wall. She had given it to Normous as a gift for his last Name Day. When the wind blew in from the sea, he would use it as a blanket. She had hoped it would help find her large friend a large woman. Unfortunately, she knew very few women seven feet tall and looking for love. When they were younger, they had courted briefly, until they realized that the reason they never wanted to get intimate was it felt like kissing a sibling. They decided to call it off before people thought anything was odd about either of them. Normous jogged over to the fire, stooping so he didn't smack his head on a rafter. He ladled out a cup for each of them and they drank. Theesa knew she'd had tea like this before, but she didn't remember the name of the flower that was used to make it. “I love it Normous. What's it called?” Normous gulped and smiled. “Bergamont. A merchant came by the other day trying to peddle some plants. When he showed me the Bergamont, I realized that's what's been growing all over my other pasture. When I showed him my crop, he said it was the best he'd ever seen. He said I could expect him in a few days to pay for them and start selling them all over the Wash. Maybe even as far as Nimburn, he says!” Normous grinned and sipped some more. Theesa cheered. “That's amazing Normous! Oh, thank Morbern! What are you going to do with all that money?” Normous frowned. “Um... Mainly, I just wanted to be able to pay you for helping me with the sheep.” Theesa smiled. “If that's what you're worried about, I'd rather just have food if it's all the same. Keep your money. You could use it to farm instead.” She took another sip. “If people like this tea, you'll make a hell of a living growing this. Imagine all the sheep you can buy.” Normous' eyes widened at the prospect of perhaps having a whole herd of sheep. They darkened and he said “First we have to stop what's killing them. And I'm sorry, but that task falls to you.” “Don't worry old friend. I can take care of myself.” She said Normous just shook his head. “Maybe you should see the sheep and decide.” Normous beckoned her to follow him. Outside, the sheep had gathered in a small group. Theesa saw they were all back to back. They turned their heads this way and that as they chewed the tall grass. Normous patted one on the head as he walked by them. It leaned into it's master's hand and then returned to the grass. A little farther she could smell it; the death hanging in the air. She thought she smelled something like burned hair and rotten blood. Normous stopped and pointed. The body lay, flayed and torn apart, more or less in a pile. Theesa bent to examine it. Wolves wouldn't leave so much food behind. Down here, the smell was stronger. Whatever had killed the poor sheep had simply torn it appart and left the remains. Depite the powerful stench and the fresh meat, however, there weren't any flies swarming it. There wasn't a single bug anywhere near the corpse. When she felt she could gain nothing more from the body she turned to her friend. “where's the head?” Normous simply pointed. Theesa, confused, followed his finger. Then she saw the sheep's head, on Normous's roof, maybe twenty yards away. “How?” She asked. Normous shrugged. “Still sure it's a wolf?” He asked. She sighed. “Not as sure. Might be another lion?” She hoped He shook his head. “You'd know better than I.” This was true. In school, they had initially started him off in sword training and her in farming. It had taken a week for the other children to start picking on Normous, who, as it turned out, was as deadly as a fresh glass of milk, despite his even then large stature. She had seen him getting hit by the smaller boys and walked up to them. “Would you stop that?” she asked. She always tried to be polite. Her mother always said it was more important to be nice than to be right. One of the boys stopped and turned. “Why?” “Because he won't fight back. He's very nice. Maybe you should just talk to him instead.” She smiled then, hoping that he would call off his friends and they would let the boy be. It was very hard to read with him crying. The boy rolled his eyes, shook his head, and pushed her. He had almost turned around when Theesa appeared in front of him. He almost had a chance to yell before she broke his nose. He screamed and hit his knees. The other two turned, but they were too slow. Theesa punched the next one in the stomach as hard as she could. He vomited over her head, covering his comrade with the broken nose. The third one felt a tap on the shoulder, turned, and then spun to the ground after catching Theesa's magical teleporting fist. They started her in sword training and Normous in farmer prep the next day. Grown-up Theesa shook her head. Lions were much more difficult to hunt than wolves. She'd want long daggers and armor for this. Long swords can't be drawn and used effectively when a three hundred pound animal is standing on your chest trying to claw you out of a suit of plated iron. “Anyway, come. I've made you steaks for your hunt, as well as some biscuits and oats. That should keep you.” Normous said, heading back to the house. Theesa followed him inside. “You don't have to do that Normous. I'd help you for free.” Normous laughed and waved it off. “I have plenty. I grow the stuff for a living. I mean,” He gestured to his large, well-fed belly. “I really do have enough. And if you weren't so damned stubborn, I'd stock your larder all year round. I know how hard it is for honest sellswords to find work.” She gave him a small, sad smile. “Thank you, Normous.” “Don't mention it.” He said. She stood up to leave. “Be safe out there! The food I can replace easily enough, but you are truly unique.” He hugged her and kissed the top of her head. “I would be lost without you little friend.” She hugged him back, though her arms were too short to make it to his back on either side. “You take care too big guy. And bring your sheep in tonight. I don't wanna follow the trail to and from your house for the next few days.” They both laughed. Normous handed her a bag and wrapped up the steaks. He handed them to her and she set off back to her house. It was a mess in there. Dirty clothes and sweaty armor lay on the floor, table, her small bed, and everywhere else possible. She started picking up, looking for a mail shirt with a collar. If the lion knocked her down, it would go for her neck first. She wanted a fighting chance. After moving most of the clothing she found it, along with a rusty greatsword, two short ones, and bronze-and-leather guards for her arms and legs. A bear had attacked her while she was wearing them once. It stared toothless above her fireplace now on a plaque from the new mayor. That job had netted her a small bag full of gold, and many large ones for the blacksmith who made her armor. He supplied her free of charge for all the business she brought in. He'd even been visited by some dwarven apprentices from Black Hill not long ago. Theesa kept cleaning/digging. I really need to clean up sometime, she thought, tossing laundry with reckless abandon. She decided on three steel daggers, a wide shortsword, and took her clothes off to get into her leathers. Then came the mail and the plates. Many mercenaries preffered bows for this sort of thing. Theesa was never that good with bows. She didn't really have to be either. When she was angry or scared, she moved much faster than a bowman could reload. She'd killed plenty of cocky bowmen to prove the point. She almost skipped on her way back to the sheep's remains. The smell had stayed the same while she was gone. There were still no flies. It didn't take her long to find the tracks. They looked off, somehow. Theesa couldn't place it though, so she shrugged and followed them up the hill and into the woods south of the village. The forest was always calm. Theesa loved hunting for that alone. Birds chirped in the trees above her and sang long and complex songs. Her father had always joked that there was a little elf in her blood, because she always felt at home in the forest, taking her shoes off and dancing with the woodland creatures. The tracks lead her southeast now. She hoped they might pass the river. It would be a great place to stop and eat at. Sadly, the tracks turned due east as she followed them. As the lion had walked, it seemed to quicken it's pace, it's paws going deeper into the ground. Theesa frowned and looked around. It hadn't caught an animal nearby. She pressed on. After a few hours of walking the sun started going down. Theesa started looking for a place to camp. She was deep in the woods now, so it didn't take her long to find a sturdy tree. She climbed up about forty feet until she found a good branch cluster. She tied up her hammock to the tall branch and set her pack in it. Then she ate, savoring every bite. Normous sure knew how to cook. When she was done, she pulled a small, shaded lantern out of her bag, and an old book. Her father had never learned to read, so she made sure she never forgot how. Even if, like now, it was one she had read twenty or so times. This one was set in some other world, where a group of young men fought a war after their world was destroyed. It made her wonder if there were other people, living among the stars. It didn't seem like it, from what she had been taught of Morbern the Great in school. He seemed to prefer a smaller creation. Theesa often wondered why, when stories like this were so interesting and wonderful. She started to get tired, put the book back, set the pack on a sturdy branch, hanging by a sturdy strap of leather. Then she got in the hammock and blew out the lantern, hanging it next to the bag. Something sounded odd about the forest tonight. She couldn't place it and drifted off trying to figure it out. She woke up the next morning from a dreamless sleep. Whatever wasn't right in the forest last night had sorted itself out while she slept. The morning light had inspired the birds, and new songs greeted her while she scarfed down breakfast, packed up, and climbed back down the tree. After she got to the bottom, she scored the tree with her dagger and found the tracks again, setting out once more in search of the lion. It took her six more hours of walking before she saw anything at change at all. When she stepped into a clearing, however, she frowned. The smell of death pierced the rich forest air. She thought she heard something, but when she listened, she couldn't hear anything. The tracks stopped, then started roaming in circles, as though looking for something. She looked around, half expecting to see it watching her. She could see no lion. She thought something had moved in the corner of her eye, but she looked and saw only a bush moving in the breeze. Eventually the tracks took a new heading and she followed them north. Now the poor thing just seemed to be lost, wandering from tree to tree. She came to one with four long, deep scratches in it's bark. Sap poured like molasses from the tree's wounds. Theesa stopped there. Something had been bothering her for a while now, but she couldn't figure out what. She looked around. She knew this part of the forest. Nothing looked wrong or out of place. A branch snapped somewhere behind her, and several things became clear at once. The same death smell had been following her since she had left the clearing with the circles of tracks. Since she had been to that place, every sound she was used to in the forest wasn't wrong, they were gone. She spun and drew her sword. What she hadn't considered before was that what she was hunting didn't walk like a lion. It's feet weren't even right. More like cloven hooves. Easy enough to dismiss until you remember that lions have toes. You can see their toes in their tracks. You can smell their piss when you found their home, and anywhere they've been. Most importantly, they had big claws, yes. But the wounds in the tree were far too deep for any cat, no matter the size. And far too wide. She saw it. It wasn't a lion. Sitting on it's haunches, looking directly at her, was a beast almost as tall as Normous. It's back legs had hooves, but they were far bigger than any she'd seen before. It's front paws looked more like hands, but each finger ended in razor-sharp claws. It's front legs were huge and well-toned, covered in matted and filthy gray fur. There were patches of flesh missing from the beast. They weren't bites, she was sure of that. She knew of no animal that would knowingly approach that thing. It looked, rather, like the thing had died at some point and come back, wounds rotting and all. It's back legs and hips were small, widening out in the torso. It's shoulders were as wide as two horses abreast. It's face was half the skull of a goat, with hollow-looking inky black eyes and a mouth full of short, pointed teeth. Theesa's eyes widened in horror and she took a step back, holding her sword in front of her. She had no idea what it was going to do. She went over everything she knew, everything she had been taught, and drew great big blanks. She would never have guessed that the monster would stand on it's hind legs and speak. “Where... am I?” It sounded like the yowling of a cat and growl of a wolf at the same time. It's voice sounded wet and raspy, like an old man with setting sickness. “where is... my home?” Theesa was paralyzed. The thing tilted it's head. Standing, it was several feet taller than Normous, towering above her. “At... least...” The creature began shuffling toward her. It didn't speak like a human. It paused either too long or not long enough. Every word was spat out as quickly as possible once it was started. “At least there's food.” And it pounced. Some part of her brain that had been sounding the alarm abandoned it's post and reacted. Theesa swung her sword as fast as she could. It stuck in the lean, ropy muscles of the thing's arm. It screamed and swung, open-handed at her. Still holding her sword, she flew between trees and landed hard, her left shoulder plate hitting a rock. Her shoulder lit up with pain. She ignored it and got up, sprinting. She didn't stop until she saw more familiar trees. At some point when she was running, she'd become aware of the death smell going away. The heat of the moment having left her, her shoulder screamed. She unlaced her armor, wincing when her arm moved. The birds were around her again, singing without a care in the world. She pulled off her mail one-handed, then undid her leathers and peeled them off her shoulder. It had swollen up three times it's normal size and was a deep, weeping purple. “Fuck” She whispered. She pulled the leather back into place and threw on the mail shirt, leaving her left arm guard off. She looked around. At some point, she'd stopped heading to the village and made her way to the clear and deep waters of the Emin Folska. She dropped her pack and dug out a biscuit for the walk. It would take only an hour to get back home from here. She didn't linger. She knew every step on this path. She kept low and moved as quick as she could, hoping that whatever that thing was, it hadn't chosen to follow her. The birds seemed fine, and it smelled normal. She didn't stop looking though. Her left arm hung, limp by her side. Her right was held out with a dagger. She wouldn't take a chance with that beast again. It seemed to her like it took hours, despite making excellent time, until she left the trees and saw the sun setting over Normous' house. The impending night filled Theesa with fear, and she jogged the rest of the way down the hill, through the pasture, and into the front door. Normous, who had no idea his friend would be back this soon or suddenly, nearly jumped out of his fucking skin. Disregarding his fright, she ran up and hugged him with her good arm. She was more relieved to see him than she had been since she was still a girl. She broke down and started sobbing. The past day had caught up with her all in one moment and slapped her across the face. He tried to put his arms around her, but she yelped when he brushed her shoulder. “You're hurt!” Normous sat her down and took off her mail, then peeled the leather away with a gentleness surprising for his size. She continued to gently sob. She could still hear it's voice. She thought she'd never, ever forget that awful sound, or that hideous face with it's dead eyes. Normous ministered to the best of his ability, using cooling ointments to soothe the pain. “Okay, I'm going to go get someone. If that little bastard isn't already drunk, Gunter can fix this with a snap of his fingers.” Normous started to the door. “NO!” Theesa flew across the house, stopping right in front of him. “That thing's still out there! You can't leave, it'll kill you!” Normous frowned. “Lions don't come near people if they can help it.” She saw him sniff. The smell was back. With a vengeance. “It. Isn't. A lion.” She said, turning. She barred the door. “I don't know what the hell it is.” She pelted off to the back door and barred it. “But it isn't a lion.” “How bad can it be? You killed a bear.” Normous chuckled, but Theesa was beginning to make him nervous. Somehow, she went from next to the kitchen window, shutting and locking it, to holding onto Normous' collar, hanging by one arm. She pulled herself up until her face was level with his. “Has a bear ever scared me this much? Do they often fling people fifty fucking feet away when they're hurt?!” she let go of his collar and dropped, silent, to the floor. “It's a monster, Normous. The fucking thing's bigger than you. This thing's...” she stopped, staring. “It's what?” Normous had noticed the smell now. It wasn't helping the fear already twisting in his gut. In an almost silent, terrified squeak, she said, “it's right there in your yard.” Normous looked out the window. He would never have noticed if she hadn't said it. There stood the most terrible creature he'd ever seen, staring right at the both of them. It had broken the necks of his sheep and was standing, looking at them, idly pulling the sheep apart to keep it's huge, horrible hands busy. It tilted it's head again. “Kill... You.” The beast crouched to spring faster than Normous could see, but Theesa was prepared. A dagger flew out the window, spinning fast. The beast tried to swipe it out of the way and the knife went through it's hand. The beast stopped, looking astonished at the knife burred hilt-deep in it's blood-soaked hand, as though looking for enormous brass balls at the base of the handle. Then it laughed. It was a grating sound, like rocks grinding together, but still grotesque and wet. Then it turned and walked straight to the village. Both stood in shocked silence for a moment. The Normous; “We have to go warn everyone!” “Are you fucking crazy? It hasn't left, it's out there waiting for us to go do a fool thing like that!” Said Theesa. “Don't you have a crossbow in here or something?” Normous looked guilty. “You know how I feel about weapons in the house. I don't even kill the sheep, I always ask you to do it because I get attached.” “Ugggggh!” “I'm sorry!” Theesa held up a finger and sniffed the air a few times. “Oh” “What?” Normous asked. Theesa picked her sword back up. “It really did head to the village. C'mon.” She was out the door and dashing down the road. Normous heard the first scream, groaned, and followed his friend. The first scream came from an exceptionally heroic knight named Sir Paddick who had just gone out to take a leak by the side of the Dragon's Gut, already thinking about that next sweet pint. Back in Cerule, alcohol wasn't permitted to anyone at all. So naturally it was all underground and hidden away from their Lord's prying eyes, as well as the eyes of peasants like these. They really did know how to make it out here though, Paddick gave them that. As he moved his crotch plate out of the way, he looked around for his typical beggar to urinate upon when he remembered he was far south of Ender's Lane. He shrugged and focused on the wall again. Finished, he buttoned his fly and turned, now looking at a monster so terrible it must have crawled here from the Great Dragon's shadow itself. Then he screamed. Then he stopped. People poured out of the Gut. “Who screamed?” “Must've been a wee lass.” “Do you think that damn hero got her?” “If he did, he'll die a hero tonight.” On of the drunkards slipped and fell on his rump, to the amusement of the other pubflies. The drunk was not amused, at the offending liquid had already soaked the seat of his pants and backs of his legs. Two of his friends felt around for him in the dark. They helped him back up. “Could we get a few damn lights out here?” said the drunk, not at all happy about how quickly the liquid was drying, crusting around his private parts. “Is that someone yelling?” The Barman came out last, with one lit torch, in the process of lighting another, when they all saw what the drunk had slipped in. Blood. There was something on the drunk's boot. He bent over and picked it up, turning it. He dropped it in horror when he saw it was a scrap of the Cerulian knight's face. “Someone's definitely yelling.” Some turned, now listening to the woman coming from the south side of town. Behind her, giant footsteps could be heard. “That's Theesa and Normous, callin' it.” Said a drunk. “How the fuck do you know?” asked his friend. The first drunk shrugged. “Never have I met a man with so high a voice, nor a woman as loud.” The second looked like he might protest, thought about it, and then simply nodded. “Does it smell bad out here to you?” He asked. The others started sniffing by the time Theesa and Normous reached them. Some waved, some glared. Most were still celebrating the Hero's death. “Hey, Theese!” Called the correct drunk. “Any idea who the public servant of the day is?” “Huh?” This was not at all what Theesa was expecting. The skeptical drunk continued. “Yeah, we've got a regular good Morborian on our hands.” Pointing to the scattered remains. “A little keen for the job, I think.” Theesa and Normous looked at the small pile of bones and flesh that didn't quite make the technical definition of a body, then the ripped and rent armor. “Oh, thank Morbern.” She said, heaving a huge sigh of relief. “I hoped it wasn't one of ours. Hero was he?” “Oh yes.” said the town whore. She'd actually been in the same year as Theesa and Normous in school. She'd been sent to ladyship classes, a rare honor. As soon as she got out of the schoolhouse, she'd been on the corner of the bar, waiting less than twenty minutes before a man handed her a bag full of gold and whisked her off to his room. When asked, she said she'd like to at least have the chance to pick who paid her. “Didn't even tip” “I'm sure.” Theesa said. “But right now we have bigger problems.” Her biggest was that she had no idea how to describe what she saw. “What at first seemed like a lion eating sheep has turned out to be...” There it was “... A new sort of minutar.” “What kind?” Asked a drunk. “A scaled minutar, An elven minutar, what?” “I think she meant 'as yet undiscovered'” said the correct drunk, 2-2. “Oh” Said the previous drunk. “Is it dangerous?” “I don't have time for this, is anyone sober enough to help?” Most of the drunks shuffled back in, save the good guesser, the skeptical one, and the one that had slipped in the blood. “Alright, so here's what happened.” Theesa recounted the tale as best she could. The wrong tracks, the smell, and finally, when she thought about the thing itself she faltered. She looked up to Normous for help. Normous was looking somewhere thousands of miles away, “You'll know it when you see it.” “Ok, so how do we kill it?” Said Barin, the guesser “We'll have to stick together.” Theesa said. “If we're alone, it'll make heroes of us all.” They shook their heads sadly. “I'll get the barman to lend us some weapons.” Said Lance, the unlucky. The skeptic Hawliss followed him. They returned with three plain swords, one of which was handed to Barin. They gathered in a circle, four around Normous, who would look for it over their shoulders. They began to edge their way through the town, rotating slowly. They entered the main street, where the school could be seen. Theesa smelled it again. That sticky, vile blood-smell was back, making the air heavy with it's stench and corruption. “Keep your eyes open.” She said. “It's here somewhere.” They made their way across the street. The drunks, to their credit, didn't flee. Most drunks in the Wash used to be Lord Volt's soldiers until the Council deposed him. Now they got by enough to drink and remember better days with their old platoon mates. They seemed no exception. Theesa lead them to the school, looking over her shoulder the whole way. On her left side was Barin. On her right was the other, she couldn't remember his name. No sign of the thing that made such an ungodly smell. She gave the door a kick. The inside of the schoolhouse was in a state of decay. The paint with the Letters and Marks of Morbern along the top of the wall had flaked away in places. The floorboards were rotten and termite-ridden. The bookshelves were broken, their contents dribbled in a pile next to them. Rusting toys and ruined books. The great fortune of the Lord of Water lay here. The smell dominated the room. It was inside the building with them. To their left was the hall where sword training took place. Theesa led her five there. The alarm was being sounded in her head again. Something was wrong. Of course there was, she thought. I'm chasing a monster that broke my arm just before noon. Clearly, I'm mad. But she still couldn't shake the feeling that the beast might get the drop on them. But how? The practice dummies in the hall still remained mostly upright. Some had begun to droop and lean over time, while others had simply fallen off the stands. The wooden swords, clubs, and axes had long since been stolen by children in the years since Volt's fall. It had been when she was eleven. She was sixteen now. A maid her age would be marrying. As a sellsword, she was just getting to the good years in her career. Assuming she didn't get caught unawares. She strained to look into corners. The shadows were deep. Was there movement in them? Or was it the ghost of the Dark Lord playing tricks on her? The room had been more or less stripped bare over the years. There was nothing for the beast to hide in. She lead them on into the library. The smell grew more complex and even fouler the closer they got. The library had reverted back into a forest, the tall shelves now overgrown with moss , cracked and scarred like the bark they used to be. The books that had fallen or been knocked over by rodents had become pulp in the many rains that came through the school's dilapidated roof. They had formed almost to the shape of roots. Theesa peeked around the corner of a shelf, then motioned for the others to follow, not daring to look away. The smell hadn't been this strong in the clearing. It was an outhouse hole that had begun to ferment, on top of rotting, bloody meat. Where the hell was it? She lead them halfway across the library and stopped. There was no exit save the one behind them. The shelves diverged into three alcoves, deeper in. Splitting up was certain death. The beast would pick them off one by one. Entering one would leave them cornered, and the beast would follow them in. She was going to have to draw it out. “Normous, look down the halls. Keep watch for it, you three...” She turned. Normous was watching over her head down the halls. There were now four men standing around him. She remembered Barin, Lance and Hawliss, but the man standing to her left hadn't been there before. He was bald, with clouded blue eyes and grey-ish skin. He looked through her eyes and the back of her head to the stars beyond. Theesa drew her sword, stepping back. The dead man's jaw dropped and his head tilted to the side. The drunks had just drawn their blades, pointing them in mute terror. Normous had slipped behind the line of swordsmen, and cowered above them as tightly as he could. Theesa was almost sick with the stench now, but she recovered more quickly than the beast could exploit. The corpse turned to look at each of them in turn, jaw still open and head off to one side. It didn't seem to move its feet, simply turning. Then it grabbed a thick tuft of hair in each hand. Then it pulled. When the half-rotten skin at the top of it's head split, the shape of the body seemed to change. As the hands peeled off more skin, the thing revealed it's true face. Looking at it now, Theesa could see it's nose, like a wolf's, seemed to dance in the exposure, relishing every new smell. As well as a couple old favorites. It's eyes weren't black or absent, they were simply so deep they couldn't be seen unless you were right next to it. They were bright yellow, and slits like a cat's. Or snake's. Theesa snapped. “Kill it now, while it's busy!” Something pulled her forward, and she charged the beast. The drunks followed her. All four plunged their swords into the monster. The monster stopped. It tilted it's head again, examining the swords that had been put through the human parts of it. The rest of the thing's skin burst off in strips, exposing the beast, swords still inside him, towering above them all, scraping it's horns on the ceiling. Theesa's courage failed her. Dread of inevitability was upon her. She was going to die. She was woefully unprepared, disarmed, and absent the use of one arm. As she went through her self pity, Normous hopped over her, dodged around the beast, and pinned it's arms behind his back. Theesa had never seen Normous move that fast. But her mind cleared; they had an advantage. Barin went in first, jumping to grab the sword lodged in the creature's right breast. He gored the monster as he yanked it through bones and flesh on the way back to the ground. The monster tried to escape Normous' grasp, screaming now. It almost sounded like a woman when it screamed, though it was far too raspy and like the growl of a cougar. Hawliss stepped forward, holding a battleaxe Theesa hadn't seen before. The beast struggled harder, bucking backward and knocking Normous onto his back, with the beast on his belly. The monster did not account for how it's arms were being held, however, as both were broken, under its' back. Hawliss hopped as he chopped the monster's legs. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Switch. Theesa climbed up onto the belly of the beast, now half-deflated and mostly dead. Her sword had been buried in it's left breast, where it's heart would have been if it was human. She pulled it out and knelt on the beast's chest. It glared at her, past struggling, and waited, never taking it's eyes off hers. She drew back and jabbed. Her sword stuck on the back of it's skull. It's glare dulled as it gurgled. Theesa slid off the chest of the beast and limped over to a corner. Normous looked at her as he broke the monster's neck. Theesa jumped. Normous picked up the beast's body and dropped it on his side and stood. “What the fuck Normous, since when do you break necks? That's terrifying! You're too big to be violent!” Theesa ran to hug him, tears stinging her eyes. Normous nearly broke her back in turn. “Are you kidding? I was scared shitless! If it wasn't really dead it was going to fucking kill me first. I'm not taking any chances today.” Lance struggled and pulled his sword out of the monster's groin, and Hawliss' from it's stomach. Barin gathered dry wood and other fuel to burn the body. Hawliss and Lance joined in and built a pyre of warped and broken shelves, ruined books, and dead tree branches that had fallen through the roof over the years. Lance used a spell to spark the fire, speeding the process. When the beast began to burn, the smoke became rancid and terrible. The drunks became sick immediately. Theesa and Normous were merely disgusted. They watched the fire, making sure the body burned completely. When the drunks could no longer vomit, they sung a marching song. Something about angels. Theesa needed to be sure the thing was dead. She dared not think of anything else. They sung low at first, but as the body burned they raised their voices, singing songs of distant lands and foreign women. They started to smile again. Theesa didn't notice she was singing along until the fire was embers and only a few blackened bones remained. She grinned and sang with vigor. Normous joined in and lead them back outside. He pulled a purse off his belt and shook it. It jingled. “Drinks are on me!”

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inaneswine · 8 years ago

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I decided to continue watching The Walking Dead (SPOILERS)

So it’s currently nine days away from the premiere of season 7B of The Walking Dead (not that I’m counting, at all), and I was sort of in two minds about whether to tune in at all. I’ve decided I will, but I haven’t been too thrilled with what the last couple of seasons have had to offer.

I have loved The Walking Dead since it first appeared. I have been a lover of all things zombie since I was a child – first getting into the Resident Evil video games and series of film adaptations that followed, Danny Boyle’s modern classic 28 Days Later, and then finally getting into the classic Romero Living Dead films. However, when The Walking Dead first aired in 2010, it was before Netflix, box sets and binge-watching were a big thing, and not too many people this side of the pond had heard of Breaking Bad, so television wasn’t quite in its golden age yet. The only zombie series worthy of note that had ever been broadcast either here or in the states was the Charlie Brooker penned miniseries Dead Set, a fantastically cynical satire which places a zombie apocalypse on the eviction night of reality television series Big Brother. While its premise may have been laughable, it was incredibly well-written and executed, and it was also intensely frightening. I like to view it myself as a pilot to Brooker’s Black Mirror anthology series, as its nihilistic tone and darkly comic style are very similar.

However, post-apocalyptic drama wasn’t especially new to television. In 2008, the same year as Dead Set aired, the BBC began airing a remake of 1970s drama Survivors. It starred Julie Graham as Abby Grant, one of the few survivors of a flu pandemic that has almost wiped out the human race. She meets and bands together with other survivors and together, they attempt to stay alive, and try to avoid the dangers of this new, quieter world they inhabit. It lasted a mere two seasons before its cancellation in 2010 (the same year Walking Dead began to air). Predating Walking Dead by a good couple of years (though airing after the Dead comics began publication In 2003), Survivors explores very similar themes, such as community spirit, reconnecting with family and fighting oppressive leadership – characterised here by the last surviving government official. It was a terrific series – great writing, excellent performances and stunning cinematography and visual effects. It also hammered home the idea that no character is safe at any time, as two of the most arguably well known actors in the show – Freema Agyeman and Shaun Dingwall – succumb to the deadly flu in the very first episode. Unfortunately, it seemed that the viewing figures weren’t meeting the standards set by the show’s high budget, and it was not renewed for a third season.

Then, in October 2010, The Walking Dead began to air. I had never heard of the comics and, to this day, still haven’t read them, so it was all new to me. But from the moment Rick pulled the trigger on that small girl with the half-missing cheek as she quickly staggered towards him, I was hooked. Its first season’s relatively short running time of six episodes was a welcome change from the usual American television dramas which, at this time, usually stretched out to a good 24 or so episodes. Thankfully, Americans are beginning to learn that it’s about quality not quantity, and they delivered six action-packed, thoughtful and scary episodes of character-driven – as opposed to gore-driven – drama. (Having said that, there was still gore a-plenty.)

First of all, the show presented a group of diverse, flawed, but very likeable characters. With the exceptions of Carol’s abusive husband Ed, our initial introduction to Daryl and, as the first two seasons progressed, the mentally unstable Shane, it was a show about relatively decent, ordinary people coming to terms with a terrible predicament that they neither deserved nor asked for. The early seasons remain my favourites, as our group takes refuge at a secluded camp, and then at a farmhouse in rural Georgia. Though several are very vocally critical of the second season, I seriously adored it, as it gave the characters some time for respite and allowed for thorough character exposition, almost crossing into Shakespearian territory as the Rick-Lori-Shayne love triangle complicated further and further. It also echoed the “cosy catastrophe” element of post-apocalyptic fiction – the idea that a group of protagonists can live a relatively comfortable life in the face of a great disaster, or that the apocalypse has freed them from the constraints of society – present in the works of John Wyndham and George A. Romero. Additionally, it was refreshing to see that the old classic style of zombies – the slow, Romero-esque shamblers – were not only being used, but were being made threatening and scary again. While Romero somehow managed to imbue his zombies with a sense of character and intelligence – by the end of 1985’s Day Of The Dead, one zombie even understands the concept of sarcasm – Walking Dead’s zombies are just beasts, plain and simple.

However, season three was a game-changer in this respect. Life became so much more difficult for the survivors after they lost their home at the end of season two, and additional threat was added by the tyrannical and psychotic rule of the Governor, expertly played by David Morrissey. Walking Dead began to let viewers know that not everyone in the zombie apocalypse was very nice.

As each season passed, the show became more harrowing and difficult to watch, with some standout moments being the death of Hershel, Carol’s “look at the flowers” moment and the group’s arrival at Terminus. As a matter of fact, the opening scene of season five’s first episode, “No Sanctuary”, was perhaps the most disturbing five minutes in television that I’ve ever seen. But just when it looks like there’s no hope for our survivors, viewers were uplifted and rejoicing by the end of the episode as Carol stepped in to save the day in some of the most spectacular scenes of the series yet. They all still stuck together, and seemed to be able to overcome any dangers they faced.

Season six was fairly uneven, with some outstanding zombie horde scenes, excellent fight scenes involving the Wolves, but also a poorly executed and frustrating red herring involving the alleged death of Glenn (who didn’t really die, he just fell off a bin). Nonetheless, it was still enjoyable to watch and fascinating to watch the characters develop. An easy example would be the episode “Here’s Not Here”, which may just be the finest episode of the whole series.

Now, onto season seven. As I’ve said, I understand that it’s a zombie apocalypse, and things are likely to get rather unpleasant, but this season has been damn near unwatchable. We have seen remarkable character exposition and fantastic human drama, but the untold misery and cruelty inflicted upon our heroes episode by episode became just too much to take, and sitting through it each week was extremely hard work. I’m not criticising the writing or the acting, as both have been beautiful, I just wanted some relief for our poor friends that never seemed to come. It hasn’t just been tough, it’s been thoroughly depressing.

I was at a point during the mid-season finale, just as Spencer was disembowelled by Negan, returned as the living dead and was subsequently shot by Rick, where I expected the end credits to pop up right after that scene. If it had ended there, I’m pretty certain I would have stopped watching The Walking Dead. However, the last few minutes as the cast reunited at the hilltop community was virtually the only saving grace of this season so far (except Carol and Morgan’s wonderful episode entitled “The Well”). I simply hope that the next eight episodes can give us at least some glimmer of hope.

I think I’m beginning to look at antagonists differently at the moment. Characters such as Negan used to annoy me, as I simply wanted to meet nice people onscreen, and I couldn’t believe that a character could be so sadistic and brutal. Sure, the Governor was wicked, but his killing just seemed like a means to an end and, later, revenge. But Negan, he just gets off on watching people suffer.

A similar thought came recently when I watched a Korean zombie film entitled Train To Busan, which featured a fairly stereotypical “business man” character whose sole purpose was to survive the movie by sacrificing anything and anyone in his way. Again, I thought to myself, who would behave like that?

Then, another thought washed over me. And it chilled me to the bone.

Donald Trump in a zombie apocalypse.

I’ll just let you think about that.

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