#people learn how to read between the lines i am begging you oh lord

[beanghostprincess]

I have seen a wild amount of people complaining about the context of Wind Breaker and how "unrealistic" it is for the characters to go to school but without any teachers or adults being shown or protecting them and... First of all, realism is not what you're going to find reading a Shonen and if you want a full-on high school experience, read another manga. It is very common to skip those details as a writer because they are not interesting in the slightest and they have confirmed multiple times that all of their grades are awful, so you won't get a silly little arc about them studying, because they directly don't. To say it is "unrealistic" is to ask for boring, pointless, plotless occurrences in a Shonen manga about fighting. Are people even hearing themselves when they complain?

But it's not only from a writer's perspective skipping what's unimportant that justifies the lack of teachers and responsible adults, but the plot itself. At first, it is confusing, but I think you only have to look a bit deeper into the cultural context of the story to understand why there aren't teachers/adults shown.

I'm around chapter 100, so I am not sure this gets explained further in the manga, but my theory as to why they behave this way is pretty simple, honestly: They are poor and in ruins, and adults with the power to change things do not care about them. Easy as that.

Whether it is real or just an exaggeration of what's actually going on, it has been shown countless times (especially in Umemiya's backstory, explaining directly how authorities don't care about the kids or anybody, really) that the whole city is made for outcasts and left to rot by the government. It is not some apocalyptic bullshit, it is stuff that happens every goddamn day in real life. They go to school but they aren't shown studying and the place itself is a mess. We only see Umemiya running the school but it is confirmed that there's staff and somebody grading them somehow, despite never being shown studying or doing anything other than patrolling. But they have shown us that the city used to be extremely problematic and chaotic and only recently have things started to change for the better. Most villains and even main characters are orphans and live on their own. There's a whole arc about a group of kids being left to rot in poverty without any means to study or live a normal life. Even our main character lives on his own in a horrendous apartment. Like--

I believe you have to be blind to not see that, if this isn't just literally some people turning their backs against poor kids in a place in ruins, it is at least an exaggeration of these things happening in real life. Because they could have classes and teachers and everything you want in the manga to make it more realistic, but this is, after all, from the perspective of teenagers who can't rely on anybody but themselves. There's only so much a teacher can do, and we know most of them do nothing for these kids. So if it is "unrealistic" perhaps you aren't aware of what damn hyperboles and metaphors are, but this is from the students' points of view, and when you live in a place like this, it doesn't matter how many teachers there are or police, because they won't help. So they are directly erased from the story to be replaced with Sakura's point of view of Umemiya running the whole place.

So I think that instead of looking for realistic interpretations of their high school experience, perhaps you should empathize a little with the actual real high school experiences of people like them.

[weirwoodking]

I feel like that if Jon was a girl, she'd be hated so badly by the fandom for everything she was loved for as a male

Oh, yeah, of course. Jon (and the other male characters) gets away with feeling emotion in a way that none of the female characters do or would ever be able to do.

I was going to do this in a separate post, but your ask gave me the perfect opportunity to do it right here. I took the liberty of compiling a few Jon excerpts, and switched the name “Jon” to “Dany” and the male pronouns to female pronouns.

And then she heard the laughter, sharp and cruel as a whip, and the voice of Ser Alliser Thorne. "Not only a bastard, but a traitor's bastard," he was telling the men around him.

In the blink of an eye, Dany had vaulted onto the table, dagger in her hand. Pyp made a grab for her, but she wrenched her leg away, and then she was sprinting down the table and kicking the bowl from Ser Alliser's hand. Stew went flying everywhere, spattering the brothers. Thorne recoiled. People were shouting, but Dany did not hear them. She lunged at Ser Alliser's face with the dagger, slashing at those cold onyx eyes, but Sam threw himself between them and before Dany could get around him, Pyp was on her back clinging like a monkey, and Grenn was grabbing her arm while Toad wrenched the knife from her fingers.

—Jon VII, AGOT

Ser Alliser seized Dany by the arm.

Dany yanked away and grabbed the knight by the throat with such ferocity that she lifted him off the floor. She would have throttled him if the Eastwatch men had not pulled her off. Thorne staggered back, rubbing the marks Dany’s fingers had left on his neck. "You see for yourselves, brothers. The girl is a wildling."

—Jon IX, ASOS

In the end Halder and Horse had to pull her away from Iron Emmett, one man on either arm. The ranger sat on the ground dazed, his shield half in splinters, the visor of his helm knocked askew, and his sword six yards away. "Dany, enough," Halder was shouting, "he's down, you disarmed him. Enough!"

No. Not enough. Never enough. Dany let her sword drop. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “Emmett, are you hurt?”

Iron Emmett pulled his battered helm off. "Was there some part of yield you could not comprehend?" It was said amiably, though. Emmett was an amiable man, and he loved the song of swords. "Warrior defend me," he groaned, "now I know how Qhorin Halfhand must have felt."

That was too much. Dany wrenched free of her friends and retreated to the armory, alone. Her ears were still ringing from the blow Emmett had dealt her. She sat on the bench and buried her head in her hands. Why am I so angry? she asked herself, but it was a stupid question. Lady of Dragonstone. I could be the Lady of Dragonstone. My father's heir.

—Jon XII, ASOS

“Men say that freezing to death is almost peaceful. Fire, though…do you see the candle, Gilly?”

She looked at the flame. “Yes.”

“Touch it. Put your hand over the flame.”

Her big brown eyes grew bigger still. She did not move.

“Do it.” Kill the girl. “Now.”

Trembling, the girl reached out her hand, held it well above the flickering candle flame.

“Down. Let it kiss you.”

Gilly lowered her hand. An inch. Another. When the flame licked her flesh, she snatched her hand back and began to sob.

“Fire is a cruel way to die. Dalla died to give this child life, but you have nourished him, cherished him. You saved your own boy from the ice. Now save hers from the fire.”

“They’ll burn my babe, then. The red woman. If she can’t have Dalla’s, she’ll burn mine.”

“Your son has no king’s blood. Melisandre gains nothing by giving him to the fire. Stannis wants the free folk to fight for him, he will not burn an innocent without good cause. Your boy will be safe. I will find a wet nurse for him and he’ll be raised here at Castle Black under my protection. He’ll learn to hunt and ride, to fight with sword and axe and bow. I’ll even see that he is taught to read and write.” Sam would like that. “And when he is old enough, he will learn the truth of who he is. He’ll be free to seek you out if that is what he wants.”

“You will make a crow of him.” She wiped at her tears with the back of a small pale hand. “I won’t. I won’t.”

Kill the girl, thought Dany. “You will. Else I promise you, the day that they burn Dalla’s boy, yours will die as well.”

“Die,” shrieked the Old Bear’s raven. “Die, die, die.”

The girl sat hunched and shrunken, staring at the candle flame, tears glistening in her eyes. Finally Dany said, “You have my leave to go. Do not speak of this, but see that you are ready to depart an hour before first light. My men will come for you.”

—Jon II, ADWD

“Lord Janos,” Dany said, “I will give you one last chance. Put down that spoon and get to the stables. I have had your horse saddled and bridled. It is a long, hard road to Greyguard.”

“Then you had best be on your way, girl.” Slynt laughed, dribbling porridge down his chest. “Greyguard’s a good place for the likes of you, I’m thinking. Well away from decent godly folk. The mark of the beast is on you.”

“You are refusing to obey my order?”

“You can stick your order up your arse,” said Slynt, his jowls quivering.

Alliser Thorne smiled a thin smile, his black eyes fixed on Dany. At another table, Godry the Giantslayer began to laugh.

“As you will.” Dany nodded to Iron Emmett. “Please take Lord Janos to the Wall—”

—and confine him to an ice cell, she might have said. A day or ten cramped up inside the ice would leave him shivering and feverish and begging for release, Dany did not doubt. And the moment he is out, he and Thorne will begin to plot again.

—and tie him to his horse, she might have said.

If Slynt did not wish to go to Greyguard as its commander, he could go as its cook. It will only be a matter of time until he deserts, then. And how many others will he take with him?

“—and hang him,” Dany finished.

Janos Slynt’s face went as white as milk. The spoon slipped from his fingers. Edd and Emmett crossed the room, their footsteps ringing on the stone floor. Bowen Marsh’s mouth opened and closed though no words came out. Ser Alliser Thorne reached for his sword hilt. Go on, Dany thought. Dark Sister was slung across her back. Show your steel. Give me cause to do the same.

[...]

“If the girl thinks that she can frighten me, she is mistaken,” they heard Lord Janos said. “She would not dare to hang me. Janos Slynt has friends, important friends, you’ll see…” The wind whipped away the rest of his words.

This is wrong, Dany thought. “Stop.”

Emmett turned back, frowning. “My lady?”

“I will not hang him,” said Dany. “Bring him here.”

“Oh, Seven save us,” he heard Bowen Marsh cry out.

The smile that Lord Janos Slynt smiled then had all the sweetness of rancid butter. Until Dany said, “Edd, fetch me a block,” and unsheathed Dark Sister.

By the time a suitable chopping block was found, Lord Janos had retreated into the winch cage, but Iron Emmett went in after him and dragged him out. “No,” Slynt cried, as Emmett half-shoved and half-pulled him across the yard. “Unhand me…you cannot���when Tywin Lannister hears of this, you will all rue—”

Emmett kicked his legs out from under him. Dolorous Edd planted a foot on his back to keep him on his knees as Emmett shoved the block beneath his head. “This will go easier if you stay still,” Daenerys promised him. “Move to avoid the cut, and you will still die, but your dying will be uglier. Stretch out your neck, my lord.” The pale morning sunlight ran up and down her blade as Dany clasped the hilt of the sword with both hands and raised it high. “If you have any last words, now is the time to speak them,” she said, expecting one last curse.

Janos Slynt twisted his neck around to stare up at her. “Please, my lady. Mercy. I’ll…I’ll go, I will, I…”

No, thought Dany. You closed that door. Dark Sister descended.

—Jon II, ADWD

And, of course, let’s not forget about this line:

"Well, he will not want it said that Stannis rode to the defense of the realm whilst King Tommen was playing with his toys. That would bring scorn down upon House Lannister."

"It's death and destruction I want to bring down upon House Lannister, not scorn."

—Jon II, ADWD

If these scenes had been Dany’s, she would have been called a power-crazed mad bitch who’s destined to be the villain of the series. And... people still do that anyway, even though none of her scenes come close to these Jon ones. And no, this does not mean Jon is going to go mad, of course it doesn’t. I love these Jon scenes, and I think that his bursts of anger and emotion are valid and understandable. It just shows how men/boys are allowed to act in ways that would never be possible for women/girls to behave without massive, massive misogynistic interpretations and critique.

[alfredolover119]

I looooove your zukka rec lists! I recently became Avatar-obsessed, never got a chance to watch it as a kid and only just got through it all! I was wondering if you'd consider doing a specifically angst rec list? I love fluffy zukka everything, but sometimes you just gotta have your heart ripped out of your chest and put back in after being thoroughly blended.

thank you! i relate heavily to “recently became Avatar-obsessed” haha. as for the angst list, i sure can try! warning: all of these have happy endings because im a crybaby who can’t read unhappy endings. also, p much all of the fics in the completed section were featured on my other lists but this is specifically the ANGSTY ones >:^)

angsty zukka wips

first, most obviously, feels like we only go backwards by @oldpotatoe

-currently at 102k with 19/27 chapters posted; rated teen

-the amnesia fic. the amnesia fic. the amnesia fic. you know. i haven’t actually read it yet because, as previously mentioned, i’m a crybaby and am waiting for it to finish up but, from my understanding, this fic will murder you in a dark alleyway with no remorse. if u like zukka angst, you’ve probably already read this, but just in case!

An injury leaves Sokka with amnesia. His last memory is of the failed invasion, of leaving his father behind in enemy territory on the Day of Black Sun. Of hopelessness. Rage. // But then he wakes up, and the war is over. Suddenly, he must come to terms with the fact that years have passed, and that he's somehow the Southern Water Tribe Ambassador to the Fire Nation. He is also supposedly friends with banished-Prince-turned-Fire-Lord Zuko, of all people. Close friends.

Yeah, nah.

and i’ll do anything you say (if you say it with your hands) by @goldrushzukka

-currently 38k with 6/8 chapters posted; rated mature

-holy shit. holy SHIT. modern au based on the “my cat likes my fuckbuddy and i am falling in love” trope(?). maybe it’s just because of how the last chapter ended, but oh my god. this one made me cry. made me want to commit violence. when it’s not angsty as hell, it’s pretty funny, but holy shit. ao3 user nebulastucky please.

It’s supposed to be a one night stand. Pick up some guy at a bar, barely remember his name and never learn anything real about him, send him packing in the morning with a thanks for the ride and a cup of coffee to-go. That’s how it’s supposed to go. // But then it’s the best sex Sokka has ever had, and he thinks he’ll hate himself if he never gets to have it again.

Violet Blossoms and Celestial Objects by @hollypunkers

-currently 15k with 2/? posted. rated teen.

-this is the sequel to blue (an angsty, zukka rewrite of book 2-- go read it if u havent!)! !! this is a book 3 rewrite. only two chapters in and mrs hollypunkers is really abusing the miscommunication tag, as zukka writers seem to enjoy doing. im excited to see how the world and story develops with the changes to the story! you should be too!! its very good! obviously spoilers for blue lmao

Having sided with the Avatar in Ba Sing Se, Zuko not only must navigate his new relationship with Sokka but returning to the Fire Nation as a banished enemy. His own journey of self discovery and personal growth must now coexist alongside the personal struggles of every other member of the Gaang as together they blaze a treacherous path toward an unsure victory against Zuko's own father and nation.

breakable heaven by @fruitysokka

-currently 71k with 9/11 chapters posted. rated teen

-swt ambassador zuko! soon to be chief sokka! fake dating ur best friend to get out of an arranged marriage! what could go wrong!!! i also haven’t read this one ((see: i’m a crybaby who is being hurt by too many zukka wips already)), but it has been hanging out in my marked for later for months. from what i understand, this fic has: angst.

With his twenty-first birthday looming just around the corner, the Southern Water Tribe Elders have decided that Sokka, next in line to be Chief, needs to get married. Sokka does not want that, but he does need to get them off his back until he can figure his way out of it. What better way to do that than to pretend to date his best friend (and newly minted Ambassador to the Southern Water Tribe) Zuko? // Seriously, this is a foolproof plan. Maybe one of Sokka's best. Absolutely nothing can go wrong.

angsty zukka fics (completed!)

(i’ll put these in wc order)

lighthouse beam by @incorrectzukka

-7k, rated g

-a modern college au!! zuko’s inner-monologue is very angsty in this fic. typical zuko. also per usual, theyre both fucking dorks. they sort themselves out in the end, but not before The Angst. zuko is semi-deaf in this fic and also he has a bit of internalized homophobia.

Sokka’s breathtakingly beautiful and he’s smart and makes other people laugh. Zuko has a half-burnt face and a deaf ear. It’s not rocket science. // Or, Zuko falls in love with the boy in his Philosophy class.

This Isn’t My Idea of Fun by @khaleeseas

-9k, explicit

-moon spirit/nwt prince!sokka, no war to be found here! admittedly this isnt THAT angsty but like. the angst IS present. zuko is still the prince. a lovely childhood friends (though they hated each other for a minute haha) to lovers story. 

If you asked Zuko, he and Azula saw far too much of Chief Hakoda of the Northern Water Tribe’s children growing up. It wasn’t until they were older, and Azula pointed out that - duh - their families were trying to set them all up, that he realized why. // He was told by his mother to be polite. These people were their friends and allies, and though their nations were as different as they came, harmony between nations was the most important thing. // It wasn’t his fault the Chief’s children were so annoying.

put your lips close to mine (as long as they don’t touch) by @celestialceci

-9k, teen

-modern au! zuko and sokka are college roommates. zuko goes to spend the summer with sokka. again,, not really that angsty but-- its there!! the detail and feeling of Home in this story make me happy. zuko is insecure as hell here too. if ur into that. 

Zuko hates his home. He likes college alright, but he likes Sokka even better, his assigned roommate turned best friend. Spending the summer with Sokka will be fun, a welcome change of pace he desperately wants. It probably won't awaken anything in him... right?

the thing about dancing by anodymalion

-9k, teen

-yes. this one right here officer. it makes my heart ache. also trans sokka! which is cool. but the zuko angst in this one. hurts me. not so much relationship angst as it is zuko learning he deserves happiness angst. i’m sure u know The Type.

The first time a attendant spills Zuko’s tea and doesn’t immediately fall to her knees, begging the Fire Lord’s forgiveness, it is not anger but a resounding warmth that fills his chest.

i could (never) give you peace by @zukkababey

-10k, mature

-OUCH. OUCH OUCH OUCH. boys please learn to communicate im begging u. also zuko.. zuko, dude. as the tags of the fic say, hes “really going through it” in this one. YOUCH. post-canon.

Zuko almost said it. He almost said the words I think I’m in love with you, but he choked them back down at the last second. // Zuko would never be able to be what Sokka wanted. They might have needed each other during the summer, when two boys with too much weight on their shoulders found comfort in each other in the only way they knew how. // But now Zuko was Fire Lord, and Sokka was leaving.

this love burns so yellow (becoming orange and in its time, exploding) by @meliebee 

-18k, teen, major character death 

-i lied. THIS is the one, officer. found family.. good mai and zuko and toph friendships.. . ozai escapes prison and tries to overthrow zuko. OBVIOUSLY angst ensues. poor boy. he Does heal in this but it gets worse before it gets better. angst angst angst angst.

Ten months after Zuko is crowned at seventeen, he faces his first coup.

Anything for You by beersforqueers

-23k, explicit

-istg. this is probably one of my favorite zukka fics. its PAINFUL. modern au where theyre broken up but sokka hasnt told his family yet so zuko goes home with him for kataang wedding. a bit smutty, but the plot oh my god ohgm y fuvk. made me cry the first time i read it. (see: crybaby!me) insert that one picture of the horse with the caption PAIN. 

In which Sokka and Zuko have broken up but Sokka hasn't told his family yet. So when Katara and Aang's wedding weekend rolls around and he doesn't want to break Gran-Gran's heart, he asks Zuko to pretend to be his boyfriend for one last weekend. // Things don't go as planned.

Moving Mountains by @thefangirlingdead

-64k, mature

-so. when i read this the first time it was in one sitting. soulmate au set within canon era / the comics, to an extent. soulmates can hear each others thoughts. i will happily say this is slowburn, jesus christ. champagne without the cham. 

Soulmates are chosen by the spirits and can hear each other’s thoughts. Sokka thinks it’s cheesy and dumb. Zuko thinks it’s poetic justice that he doesn’t have one because he doesn’t deserve it. Cruel irony is finding out that the prince of the Fire Nation (and the person currently hunting you) is your soulmate.

In the Soft Light by @voidcenturyscholar and @romancedawning

-83k, teen, graphic depictions of violence

-moon spirit!sokka living in the northern water tribe. zuko is sent to the northern water tribe as a cultural liaison. iroh is the fire lord but while he is away taking care of lu ten after his injury ozai steps up. i cannot express how many emotions this fic made me feel. background yuetara. i would almost say found family?? but. anyway. plenty of angst to spare here with a healthy dose of enemies to friends to lovers.

As the newly appointed cultural liaison to Northern Water Tribe, Zuko is the first Fire Nation Citizen to step foot inside the city's walls in nearly a century. He's determined to prove himself—to the Fire Lord and to his father—even if the Water Tribe's spirit-touched prince seems to want nothing to do with him.

That Midnight Sky by @zukkababey

-103k, teen

-now now now. tms... modern college au where sokka agrees to tutor zuko in physics because zuko has to maintain straight a’s and physics is just not doing it for him. so. thats cool but THEN azula moves in, randomly, with zuko. to hide the fact that sokka is tutoring zuko, they fake date! what could go wrong!! the mutual pining in here combined with the angst... wonderful, tasty. everyone read it rn. also SLOWBURN 

In Zuko’s strict family, needing a tutor is just about the worst thing you could do. Failing a class, however, is even worse. The only rational solution? Take up Aang on his offer to find him a physics tutor and have Sokka—beautiful, smart, handsome Sokka—tutor him in secret. // When Azula’s arrival threatens to reveal Zuko’s secret, it’s up to Sokka to convince her this definitely isn’t what it looks like. See, he’s actually… Zuko’s… boyfriend? // Hmm. There’s no way this could get complicated, right?

[lesbiansforboromir]

Let me tell you all about a very personally satisfying HC I have that, whilst perhaps explaining some things within the books, is really just for my own enjoyment. 

So, the idea originates in the concept that everyone in the Dol Amrothian line are very spooky. The close elven lineage and living near an old abandoned elven haven had particularly mysterious effects on the whole family. Sure there are Dunadain in Gondor and they can develop certain spooky traits, but the Lords of Dol Amroth start out spooky and usually stay that way. It goes up and down depending on the individual, but generally they are all uncanny at the very least.

Denethor can see into the hearts of men, yeah ok cool I guess. Imrahil goes down to the Dol Amroth harbour at dusk and whispers to the swans until midnight, he answers questions you were sure you did not say out loud, he can make you weep with genuine grief over a sadness he hasn’t even mentioned. Speaking with Finduilas sometimes makes you feel like time passes in an instant, or incredibly slowly, or not at all... except no... really... how much time has passed? Wasn’t it just morning? How is the sun setting already? Or, oh my gosh, I’m going to be late! Or... not..? it’s barely been a few moments, yet I feel like I just lived a lifetime...

Ivriniel insists this is all nonsense, doggedly, she refuses to acknowledge it, no matter how many political rivals raise her considerable ire and come down with a mysterious and debilitating illness the next day. Grandmother Duilindes is just straight up a witch. ‘It’s all for the honour of Eru’ she says placatingly, as she enters her rooms in the Palace that she forbids anyone else from entering.

Denethor had heard these rumours before meeting Finduilas and, sure, he sometimes feels like he is being hunted, only to turn and find Adrahil’s eyes on him. But Dunadain are just a little strange like that! Surely it’s been blown out of proportion. He believes this up until he comes to Dol Amroth as Finduilas’ suitor. 

Denethor: Shall we take a walk after dinner? Everyone looks up from their plates in alarm Adrahil: Are you joking? Denethor: ??? Imrahil: It's the seventh day! The gardens aren't to be disturbed! Denethor, whispering to Finduilas: What does that mean?? Finduilas, chuckling: oh, Denethor! 

He sees Imrahil whispering to the swans at one point and is about to call out to him before Finduilas quickly gestures him silent.

Denethor, whispered: What is he doing? Finduilas: Shh, if the swans hear us we'll surely be attacked. Denethor: But then shouldn't Imrah- Finduilas: SHH.

One evening Ivriniel sweeps in with a stormy countenance, muttering over Lord Garahel’s stupidity. The next morning Denethor hears Imrahil mention that Lord Garahel has been taken ill with some fainting sickness. The look he gives Ivriniel is enough for her to know his mind. 

Ivriniel: Your imagination will run wild Denethor, I had thought you more reasonable. You think I, what? Cursed him? Don’t be ridiculous. Denethor, turning to Finduilas: Do you think... she knows she's doing it? Finduilas: Oh no, in fact she's determined to remain ignorant to it. Denethor: Can you... do that? Finduilas: I havent tried :)

At some point Finduilas had told Denethor that ‘Imrahil is the odd one of the family’ and by the end of the visit all Denethor can think is ‘by what metric??’

Denethor had to admit to himself privately that he was not at all put off by Finduilas’ nature, but he did have cause to worry what their children would be like. Finduilas came across Denethor, early after Boromir’s birth, rocking him to sleep and murmuring softly; 'I may have my failings as a father, I am sure I shall, but I swear they will be honestly meant, I love you so dearly my son... please do not curse me when you are older and I do not allow you everything you ask. I promise I only ever have your wellness in mind.' And she thought it was very sweet and proper, but she didn’t tell him he was wrong! And for very good reason! 

Boromir was an unnerving child. He learned to speak just a little too quickly, and when he did he would often say uncanny things, too knowing things, indecipherable things that became daunting the longer you thought about them. He had such a powerful grasp of complex feeling that he would often solve arguments between adults, explain emotions back at his parents or offer reasons for another child’s behaviour that were so accurate it became uncomfortable. 

3yo Boromir: (explains the reason Denethor’s secretary was distracted that day unprompted) Finduilas: (laughs) yes that's right! Denethor: It's.... TOO right. Finduilas: Oh well children are intuitive aren't they? Denethor, picking Boromir up: ... I feel under qualified to teach you things. Boromir: (baby-giggles but in a like way too knowing way)

And then sometimes Denethor would be sitting reading on a bench on a balcony in the early evening with Boromir contentedly playing with a fiddle-toy beside him, and suddenly his son’s voice would break the silence with; 'When I wasn't here I was colder, so I think I like it here, I'll stay. The air isn't as delicious but there's more to see.'

And then he’d go back to playing as though nothing was wrong whilst Denethor had an existential crisis. 

Denethor: W.. where were you, before? Boromir: Well I didn't know, because I couldn't know, but now I can know things, just not that. I haven't decided if I like it.

He asks Finduilas about it as soon as he can find her and she just laughs, ‘don't worry he'll forget he knows that in a few years’ she says, as though that helps at all.

But in general this is as far as Boromir ventures into the ‘spooky Dol Amroth’ territory. Sometimes he mentions things he CHOSE NOT to do that suggests he is capable of more, but other than randomly forcing Denethor to consider his position in the universe and reading him for shit, the first five years of being a parent is fine for Denethor.

At one point, when Boromir was about two, someone asked Finduilas if they were planning for another baby soon. Finduilas laughed ruefully, as though everyone would know that was a foolish question. ‘Oh no, much too soon for that’ she said. Denethor knew he had to follow up on what the hell that meant later. But when asked, all Finduilas said was ‘Oh you know! If siblings are born too close then they align their powers. Haven’t you heard my father talk about my uncles?’ She says it with the same tone as reading something out of a parenting manual. Denethor doesn’t want to hear about Finduilas’ uncles, but accepts this is important and stops thinking about it.

And it’s a good thing they did wait because, whilst Boromir was unnerving, Faramir is straight up terrifying.

What Denethor realised was that Boromir had been showing restraint. Faramir however was very comfortable with his powers and saw no reason not to use them. Denethor would find himself lost in baby Faramir’s eyes, feeling unable to move simply because of the weight of his stare. Finduilas and Boromir would have to save him from Faramir’s grasp, an act that would make Faramir look very put out. 

If people irritated Denethor when he was holding his youngest son, then just a glance from this child would make them drop whatever they were holding, Faramir grinning victoriously all the while. If Faramir did not want to take a bath then Finduilas would have to be present in case the baby decided to make Denethor relive his entire childhood. 

Sometimes Denethor would come outside to see his toddler just surrounded by the street cats of Minas Tirith, conducting some kind of incomprehensible tribunal that all the cats appeared to abide by. At one point Boromir was holding Faramir when Faramir grasped his brother’s face and pulled so that their eyes locked. Boromir passively held Faramir’s intense gaze for a while in this charged and tense moment, before calmly looking away as Faramir pouted. Denethor once again begged Finduilas to explain, but all she had to give was a fond sigh and a ‘Aw, Faramir just wants to get to know him, but our Boromir is too canny, Ivriniel and I used to do that.’ Denethor is used to helpless bemusement and concern by now. 

Now the SECOND part to this HC- YES I’M STILL GOING, THIS IS ALL IMPORTANT- the second part is that Dol Amrothians ALSO get a kind of ‘choice’. (This is likely not at all canon friendly tbh but uwu I can have a leetle canon noncompliance if it doesn’t effect the vast expansive canon... as a treat) It is far more unconscious and happens in childhood, but there is a point where a child will ‘decide’ to continue being spooky or to be more mundane. This never overrides ALL the spookiness, hence Ivriniel’s intermittent cursing and Finduilas’ occasional time dilation, but Imrahil still out spooks the lot of them. Amongst the family this is known as ‘settling’.

Boromir settles when he is eight. One day he comes to breakfast and Denethor looks into his son’s face and feels like he is suddenly more in the world, more in the moment. Boromir seems as himself as ever, but he makes friends easier afterwards. Whereas he had always been liked, now he is popular and has close relationships with children, rather than always seeming too distant. This also coincides with one of Gandalf’s rare visits. He had been trying to connect with Boromir, trying to engage him on very specific topics. Boromir had not been amused. 

Denethor would never say that Boromir hating Gandalf’s vibes was the reason he settled for mundanity. Boromir had many good reasons, he is sure. But the fact that he chose that moment to settle, so that Denethor was allowed to watch Gandalf also realise that Boromir was no longer ‘apt to his hand’, well he might have gleaned some little pleasure from it. 

The only aspect Boromir retains is his general resistance to such spookiness. Hence his frustration in both Rivendell and Lothlorien, the time distortion of those places not effecting him and the imposed rest not touching him, meaning he feels every passing day keenly. It also explains his resistance towards the Balrog’s doomful presence, as well as his heightened distress at Galadriel’s ability to see into his mind, where he had always been able to defend himself before. 

Faramir on the other hand is seven when he settles, thoroughly content with his spooky powers and wanting even more command over them. It is with this settling that he becomes able to sometimes cause people pain for lying to him. Denethor... struggles as a single father for many reasons.

[whatiwillsay]

submission:

Reputation is about more than one relationship; a thesis by anon

Hello! I am that anon who thinks Rep is about more than one relationship and this is a hill I am very much willing to die on. I believe there are (at least) two relationship stories told in detail on this album.

One is the relationship between two very famous women (*cough*Kaylor*cough), who are struggling to make it work because of the public pressures. The other is between Taylor and someone who is out of the public eye, or at least someone she is able to keep the relationship completely private. I’m not going to speculate on whether that’s Lily or Joe (lol so full disclosure I don’t think it’s Joe but someone else might) or maybe someone else we don’t know much about. All I know is that there is more than one relationship being discussed. Let’s dive into this analysis, shall we?

The first explicit mention of the public relationship - let’s actually just refer to it as Kaylor from here on out - is on End Game.

Big reputation, big reputation Ooh, you and me, we got big reputations Ah, and you heard about me Ooh, I got some big enemies (yeah) Big reputation, big reputation Ooh, you and me would be a big conversation Ah, and I heard about you (yeah) Ooh, you like the bad ones, too

Tay’s lover on here is someone with a big reputation, and being with the person would be a big conversation. Endless Kaylor analyses have discussed this as ‘proof’ that it’s not about Joe. Which, yes, obviously. But equally obviously, any woman in a relationship with Tay would be a big conversation so once we exclude Joe as a possibility, as we rightfully should, we wind up with plenty of other options.

Later in the song we do hear more explicit Karlie lines like “it’s like your body is gold”. We all suspect Karlie is gold (I tend to agree), so let’s call it a Kaylor anthem. Cool. Then, what can we learn about their relationship from this song?

I don’t wanna touch you, I don’t wanna be Just another ex that you don’t wanna see I don’t wanna miss you (I don’t wanna miss you) Like the other girls do I don’t wanna hurt you, I just wanna be Drinking on a beach with you all over me I know what they all say (I know what they all say) But I ain’t tryna play I wanna be your end game (End game) I wanna be your first string (First string) I wanna be your A-Team (A-Team) I wanna be your end game, end game

The lyrics explicitly suggest Tay’s begging the lover to make it work. It’s “I wanna be” not “I am”. She’s craving affirmation, she’s wanting to be chosen; we can pick that up from the repetitive nature of the song. First string, A-team, end game… She just wants for her to be the one. Some might say that would be fun. She’d love for them to wind up together - but there is no clear sign in the lyrics that it’s an actual possibility. It’s what she wants. She’s trying to convince her lover that she is committed, but they never resolve that commitment in the song. It’s never fully requited. No matter how many times she offers what she ‘wants’, there is no response.

Later, she sings:

I hit you like bang We tried to forget it, but we just couldn’t And I bury hatchets, but I keep maps of where I put ‘em Reputation precedes me, they told you I’m crazy I swear I don’t love the drama, it loves me And I can’t let you go, your hand prints on my soul It’s like your eyes are liquor, it’s like your body is gold You’ve been calling my bluff on all my usual tricks So here’s the truth from my red lips I wanna be your end game (End game) I wanna be your first string (Me and you) I wanna be your A-Team (Be your A-Team now) I wanna be your end game, end game I wanna be your end game (oh, I do) I wanna be your first string (first string) I wanna be your A-Team (A-Team) I wanna be your end game, end game

I’ve referenced part of this above, because it’s where the Kaylor-ness of it all gets more explicit (drinking/liquor/intoxication, gold, handprints/footprints). But again, this isn’t a happy ‘in love’ song. It’s Taylor actively trying to convince Karlie that her feelings are real. “Here’s the truth” she says - that doesn’t sound romantic, it sounds like they’re fighting and wanting to make things work but it’s all proving to be incredibly challenging.

When we add Taylor’s tone of voice in - and the almost forlorn “I wanna be your end game” at the start - my reading makes a lot of sense. It’s definitely a Kaylor song; Kaylor songs are always steeped in anxiety.

Our next clear Kaylor song is ‘Don’t Blame Me’ which (importantly) Taylor didn’t write, but which clearly picks up on themes she finds relatable. Apparently it’s similar to Hozier’s Take Me To Church (I don’t know much about Hozier, but from a quick glance at those lyrics that’s not a wildly happy song either).

Something happened for the first time In the darkest little paradise. Shaking, pacing, I just need you. For you, I would cross the line, I would waste my time, I would lose my mind. They say, “She’s gone too far this time.” Don’t blame me. Love made me crazy. If it doesn’t, you ain’t doing it right. Lord, save me. My drug is my baby I’ll be using for the rest of my life.

We’re going back to that same theme from End Game - Tay is begging her lover to make it work. “For you” she says, “I” would do just about anything. Cross the line, waste time (a biggie when you’re Taylor fucking Swift), even lose her mind. Love has made her crazy, unstable - it’s almost a play on the satire of Blank Space. True love seems to have actually made her into that mad woman she laughed at on the previous album. She’s shaking and pacing, craving the physical release of her drug of choice. (The shaking and pacing in a darkened room comes up later on the album again, by the way - it’s clear that Tay is super into Karlie and I do get it, she’s so gorgeous it’s nuts).

Then comes this gayness:

My name is whatever you decide, And I’m just gonna call you mine.

I’m gonna pause here because these call me by your name vibes are just. So. Damn. Gay. But that’s neither here nor there. Tay continues:

I’m insane, but I’m your baby (your baby). Echoes (echoes) of your name inside my mind. Halo, hiding my obsession. I once was poison ivy, but now I’m your daisy. And, baby, for you, I would fall from grace Just to touch your face. If you walk away, I’d beg you on my knees to stay.

Again, we’re picking up those same recurrent themes: she’s asking her to stay, she is willing to risk it all for love. The daisy is a Kaylor inside joke, we all know about Big Sur, so I’m not going to dwell on that.

The name thing is more interesting, as is the ‘halo, hiding my obsession’. To me, both gesture towards the public nature of the relationship that first started in End Game and picks up steam in later songs. “My name is whatever you decide” she says, but the other woman’s name keeps echoing in her mind, possibly because of her lover’s big reputation? I don’t know for sure, but I think it’s fascinating. I think Tay’s got a thing about names - lol Betty and James but also later in this album; bear with me - so I think this whole name bit is of interest. I think Tay likes the idea of the symbolism of names and the concept often comes up in her lyrics…

Then we get the line which suggests one or both of them have a (public) halo, that they use to hide the desperate love Tay feels for her lover. To be honest, that screams glass closeting phase to me. We go straight from ‘hiding my obsession’ to the daisy references. “Glass closeting with me is fun!” cries Tay, “Please stay with me, please please please.”

But once again, there’s no answer.

And then we switch gears and go into Delicate. What we’ve established in the two songs above is Tay is very invested and wants to make it work, and that she’s dealing with someone who is also famous, and that there are complications. One of those complications is that she’s insecure in the relationship.

Delicate opens with:

This ain’t for the best My reputation’s never been worse, so You must like me for me…

It sets a different tone and attitude to the last two songs. For the first time, we’re hearing an analysis of her lover’s feelings. She’s not begging, she’s not urging. She’s shocked that this person wants her for her. The big reputations and the shaking, quaking and pining are suddenly gone.

We can’t make Any promises now, can we, babe? But you can make me a drink…

Here the lover is more involved than she was previously. Taylor has gone from asking for something to saying that this is what’s happening. This is chilled, low key. This isn’t an obsession. This isn’t her ‘hitting like bang’. It’s two people starting something very… delicate. It’s not love at first sight, it’s an exploration of possibilities. They’re going to a dive bar, they’re hanging out. It’s calm and peaceful. Her anxiety here is a gentle, delicate, romantic one. It’s not dramatic like on the Kaylor songs.

Come here, you can meet me in the back Dark jeans and your Nikes, look at you

The theme of secrecy comes in strong on the lines above. They’re hiding, and they’re private. This is not “I would fall from grace just to touch your face” - the stakes are markedly lower. It’s the start of something new, something beautiful. She’s starting over again. And she’s doing so with someone who is willing to hide with her.

This is in sharp contrast to our Kaylor anthems, as we’ve already seen above. Ready for another Kaylor song? So It Goes (again, not by Tay but thematically linked) is peak Kaylor.

See you in the dark All eyes on you, my magician All eyes on us You make everyone disappear, and Cut me into pieces Gold cage, hostage to my feelings Back against the wall Trippin’, trip, trippin’ when you’re gone

Okay, here we have a gold cage imprisoning Tay and a ‘lightning strikes every time she moves’ woman stealing the attention of everyone who sees her. She’s got Tay backed up with nowhere to go and tripping when she’s gone. That’s the same insecurity from before.

'Cause we break down a little But when you get me alone, it’s so simple

She’s explicitly acknowledging their problems, but the problems fall away when they’re in bed or having a romantic interaction.

'Cause baby, I know what you know We can feel it… And all the pieces fall Right into place Getting caught up in a moment Lipstick on your face So it goes… I’m yours to keep And I’m yours to lose You know I’m not a bad girl, but I Do bad things with you So it goes…

The above doesn’t need much additional analysis, there are Kaylors who’ve done it and I recommend going to read those (or just looking up times Tay ended up with smudged lippy around Karlie).

Here’s the really relevant bit:

Met you in a bar All eyes on me, your illusionist All eyes on us I make all your grey days clear and Wear you like a necklace I’m so chill, but you make me jealous But I got your heart Skippin’, skip, skippin’ when I’m gone

Does that sound the same as the ‘dive bar on the East Side where you at?’ Because to me, while describing similar situations - dates in bars - they are explicitly different in mood, tone and atmosphere. In Delicate, Tay and her lover were hiding out in the back, having a heart to heart. Here, the bar has ‘all eyes’ on them. Kaylor both have big reputations and Karlie makes Tay anxious and jealous. She’s not ever sure where she stands with her. The best she can come up with (and you must listen for the high-pitched, uncertain tone with which this line is sung) is that Karlie’s heart skips when Tay’s gone. That’s hardly explicit confirmation of deep, requited feelings.

You did a number on me But, honestly, baby, who’s counting? I did a number on you But, honestly, baby, who’s counting? You did a number on me But, honestly, baby, who’s counting? Who’s counting? 1, 2, 3

This once again acknowledges the difficulties in the relationship. It is not ‘Delicate’. It is not always happy. It’s a proper fucking mess.

Cool now let’s take a look at another Kaylor anthem:

I, I loved you in secret First sight, yeah, we love without reason

I hear the naysayers point to the ‘in secret’ as paralleling Delicate (which so far has been the only one that’s not about Karlie). The thing, though, is that this is about love at first sight/physical attraction/lust - not about the meaningful emotional connection we glimpsed in Delicate. Delicate is explicitly not about love ar first sight or love without reason. It’s about embarking on something new and beautiful but having trepidation along the way. It’s about careful connection.

My, my love had been frozen Deep blue, but you painted me golden

I’m including this as further evidence this is about Kaylor. As I said Karlie = gold. We’ve heard this image in every Kaylor song. You know what didn’t feature in Delicate? Gold. Spoiler: it won’t feature in CIWYW and KOMH either.

I could’ve spent forever with your hands in my pockets Picture of your face in an invisible locket You said there was nothing in the world that could stop it I had a bad feeling And darling, you had turned my bed into a sacred oasis People started talking, putting us through our paces I knew there was no one in the world who could take it I had a bad feeling

In this verse we have people talking and noticing this couple. She’s describing a well-known, public relationship. It isn’t a secret, not really, despite the actual love being kept somewhat secret. Their locket may be invisible but despite that, this relationship is something well known. Furthermore, we already know she has had a bad feeling. That’s kind of the premise of many of her other Karlie anthems - she’s begging Karlie to stay and trying to convince her that they have something real and serious. She is constantly trying to convince Karlie of the seriousness of her feelings. And, well, the song ends with her saying she’d like to dance with Karlie again but there’s no real way forward, seeing as their hands are tied. The whole thing is quite sad.

Let’s look at the other very very Kaylor song (like there’s literally no other way to read it):

Our secret moments In a crowded room They got no idea About me and you There is an indentation In the shape of you Made your mark on me A golden tattoo All of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation My hands are shaking from holding back from you (ah, ah, ah) All of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting My hands are shaking from all this (ha, ha, ha, ha)

We have the familiar desperation, the shaking, the gold, and the secret moments in plain view. And again, they’re both very famous:

Everyone thinks that they know us But they know nothing about All of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation

We also get this bit:

Say my name and everything just stops I don’t want you like a best friend

There’s the name thing again and after that the gayest, most glass closety line I’ve ever witnessed. “I don’t want you like a best friend”, she says. I want your body. I want your love. I want us. I want this relationship to be real.

You know what that clarification is in sharp contrast to:

(Call it what you want, call it what you want, call it) So call it what you want, yeah Call it what you want to

Tay didn’t want to call it what you want with Karlie. She wanted to call it end game, first string, A team. She didn’t want to be friends. People talking about them caused her anxiety and lead to the breakup described in DWOHT. CIWYW has that renewed joyful tone that she had in Delicate. It’s hopeful and optimistic. It’s all about about connection and meaningful interactions:

I want to wear his initial on a chain round my neck Chain round my neck Not because he owns me But 'cause he really knows me

This is not an invisible locket, this is not about sex and getting clothes off in bathtubs, this is about a really deep emotional connection which we first heard on Delicate. Notably, it’s the third time she speaks of necklaces on the album, but it’s the first that it’s not sexual. It’s also - importantly - not invisible. It’s not comparing the lover to a necklace (like before, which makes it a physical connection) or saying their relationship can be entirely symbolized by one. She’s saying she’d actually love to actually have tangible physical proof of the relationship. She wouldn’t have said that about Karlie because she wasn’t expressly convinced the feelings were fully mutual. Also, this song is missing that desperate pining and longing that she experiences for Karlie in the Kaylor songs.

I know people hear “Karlie” instead of “Call It” but honestly it makes more sense as one of the non-Kaylor songs. I think maybe the rhyme is her trolling Karlie - call it what you want, which is certainly not what she had with Karlie. This would also kind of explain the laugh in Miss Americana. If someone sang me a song about how things are good between us, and added in a dig at her ex, I’d laugh too. And let’s be honest discussing exes - especially exes in the same social circle (Tay, Lily and Karlie) - is peak lesbian culture.

One more thing:

Cause… My baby’s fit like a daydream Walking with his head down I’m the one he’s walking to

Karlie has never had her head down. She is super active on socials, as a model, and as a philanthropist. Karlie has never been quietly walking “to” Tay. She’s been stunting and traveling and being extraordinarily visible. And all the Kaylor songs deal with that very public nature - with rumors and discussions and everyone’s eyes being on Karlie and the anxiety that causes Tay. I know some Kaylors think they just went underground after being caught making out but that’s just not what’s being described in CIWYW. It’s a different person.

My baby’s fly like a jet stream High above the whole scene Loves me like I’m brand new So call it what you want, yeah

She’s explicitly saying her baby doesn’t form part of “the scene” but rather floats above it. How does that fit Karlie going on vacation with Scooter? Or anything about Karlie, actually? This is obviously about someone very private or not particularly famous. Or both.

Bonus lyric from a non love song that points to an actively private relationship is “and here’s to my baby, he ain’t reading what they call me lately” - why would Karlie not read stuff? She is calling the paps on herself and Josh regularly but she’s not following Tay’s PR game? Make it make sense?

Anyhow back to CIWYW. In that song, her baby loves her - a source of anxiety that never gets stated explicitly resolved in the Kaylor songs. Those songs have her begging for love, not stating it’s existence matter of factly. The difference is palpable.

And I know I make the same mistakes every time Bridges burn, I never learn At least I did one thing right I did one thing right I’m laughing with my lover Making forts under covers Trust him like a brother Yeah, you know I did one thing right

I’m including this because of the chilled out atmosphere, the “brother” simile (which to me is kind of the opposite of “not wanting you like a best friend”) and the insistence that this is “right” which is absent in the Kaylor songs.

KOMH keeps with that same quiet, calm, positive energy.

I’m perfectly fine, I live on my own I made up my mind, I’m better off being alone We met a few weeks ago Now you try on calling me, baby, like trying on clothes Salute to me I’m your American Queen And you move to me like I’m a Motown beat And we rule the kingdom inside my room 'Cause all the boys and their expensive cars With their Range Rovers and their Jaguars Never took me quite where you do

“Try on calling me” like “trying on clothes” is that same idea from Delicate. Things are early, and uncertain. They’re exploring this and seeing where it goes.

This is not a public relationship, it’s entirely “inside her room”. And it doesn’t feature expensive cars and the visibility her - or Karlie’s - stunts had. (Kinda interesting that she drove Lily in the Toyota, don’t you think? And also drives her/someone in Miss Americana?)

This relationship is super secret:

Late in the night, the city’s asleep Your love is a secret I’m hoping, dreaming, dying to keep Change my priorities The taste of your lips is my idea of luxury

But what’s secret? Not Tay’s love of this person like before. “Your love” is the secret. As I’ve pointed out that affirmation of requitedness never happens in the Kaylor anthems and hiding out in the dark. Additionally “idea of luxury” is very different to her drug imagery from the Kaylor songs, by the way. This is not addictive, this is just nice.

And all at once, you are the one I have been waiting for King of my heart, body and soul, ooh whoa And all at once, you are all I want, I’ll never let you go

I believe the “all at once” contrasts the love/lust at first sight feelings she expressed for Karlie. This didn’t “hit her like bang” - it surprised her after a few weeks. And it’s not just a physical connection. This person rules her heart, body and soul.

And what do they do together? Well it’s less ripping off clothes and more chilled hangouts with someone who makes her happy:

Is this the end of all the endings? My broken bones are mending With all these nights we’re spending Up on the roof with a school girl crush Drinking beer out of plastic cups Say you fancy me, not fancy stuff Baby, all at once, this is enough

This is very cute. It’s very much lacking anxiety. She’s happy with her new person; it is finally “enough”. That’s not true for her relationship with Karlie. “School girl crush” is a very cutesy image - and is in stark contrast to the craving, shaking, pining, and bedpost carving that came with “not wanting you like a best friend”. Notice how the second relationship uses constant friendship/platonic imagery and how that type of imagery is not expressly disavowed in the Kaylor songs.

I also think it’s worth contrasting the “beer out of plastic cups” on the roof with “I’m spilling wine in the bathtub” and “eyes like liquor”. All three references are about drinking - but only one is peppy, cute and upbeat and the others are full of lustful desperation.

Now the other possible reading - implicitly favored by the Kaylor community - is that KOMH, CIWYW, and Delicate are set at a different point in the relationship to the sex songs. Unfortunately that doesn’t really hold water because, as I’ve pointed out, the origin story described is different. Kaylor “hit like bang” and fell in love at first sight. The other relationship started out slow and cautious, but quickly settled into something quietly special. These other songs are about a connection that’s chilled out and very emotional and cerebral. The Kaylor songs are about how much she wants to sex up Karlie and leave scratches down her back (which, I mean, fair). The other songs are about tentative emotions and cutesy intersections.

Also KOMH, CIWYW and Delicate are the three songs that feature British/foreign imagery. (This is why I think they’re about Lily or maaaaaybe Joe but again I doubt that and the scene in MA where a woman laughs during CIWYW contradicts it and I also have further lyrical evidence it’s not him which I’ll address below). In KOMH she says “you fancy me” and describes herself as “an American queen”, in CIWYW her baby’s “fit like a daydream” and in Delicate she asks about the “girls back home”. Also East side and West side in Delicate make more sense as being about London. Dive bars in the East End are a vibe. But that’s neither here nor there.

Why is this analysis important? To me it shows that contrary to the rosy Kaylor depictions, the Kaylor lyrics consistently show they always had massive issues (not dissimilar to her issues with Di actually).

Very quickly on why Joe’s not the muse: he’s referenced in Dress in a verse makes no sense lyrically or musically or thematically in the song and I think is only there to make it slightly less gay because otherwise the song is making Kaylor Facebook official. But the “wake up by your side” doesn’t fit in with the pining and anticipation and drunken bath time fun. It’s just thrown in there as deflection. It doesn’t actually fit the other relationship on the album - it’s very romantic but “my one and only, my lifeline” is not the cutesy tone of the other songs. This verse is just made up and slapped in to feed the hets. The musical accompaniment is so markedly different that it is clear it literally doesn’t belong in the song. The other song that makes reference to him, I believe, is “Ready for it”. I think “I keep him forever, like a vendetta” is very much about her plans for him. But it’s a very different thought to “is this the end of all the endings?” because that’s a far less certain emotion. She’s only 100% sure about Joe because it’s… not real.

And final note: Getaway Car is obviously a satirical piece about Hiddlestunt obviously. And I think New Year’s Day is a general love song about the type of relationship she wants, similar to some of her early songs, not about Karlie or Di or Lily/whoever else. It’s missing any of the imagery associated with either relationship except “don’t ever become a stranger” but it might be written from diary entries (which she has shown us she does). Final final note: I don’t know for sure who Gorgeous is about. It could just be a song about hot girls more generally.

If anyone is interested in further thoughts, I’m happy to do this for Lover and folklore too. I think we need to challenge the myth of Kaylor being perfect. And I think we should listen closely and let the lyrics speak for themselves.

*********************************************

thanks for taking the time to write all this up! let’s discuss!!!

[shinebrite97]

Part 3

Read Part 2 here      

  Her phone had seen no action since her message to Lucifer, and with no little check mark to indicate he’d seen it, she figured he was still up to his eyeballs in papers and backlogged work.          Now her phone sat beside a fancy little appetizer plate along with too many forks and spoons, hidden behind a basket of steaming rolls between the two of them.          A quick dinner at Ristorante 6?

        Her mind was racing, taking in the sites of well-dressed demons giving her judgmental looks as Diavolo simply smiled and buttered a roll.          “So,” She said. “It's been some time since we’ve spoken...hasn’t it?” She asked.          “You’re absolutely right, Yuri,” He replied. “In fact, I don’t think I’ve spent time with you at all since you returned.” He glanced up, golden eyes boring into her from across the table as he busied himself unbuttoning the long sleeves of his uniform. “Tell me, how are you settling in as a returning student?”          “I...it’s been…” She trailed off, wondering how to respond. “I’m enjoying myself.”  When he didn’t say anything more, she shifted awkwardly in the chair. Its back was too high, the velvet cushion too firm, the space between her and the table suddenly felt very restricting.         "Um…" Yuri bit her lip, considering all the things she could gush about. The food, the people, the things she was learning. "I don't know…" she replied. "I'm just...happier here." She turned her head, stifling some comment about Stockholm Syndrome, and looked back when Diavolo opened his mouth. He closed it again, and her eyes flitted down, seeing him grip a golden soup spoon.          "Are you and Lucifer expecting another paper from me at the end of term?"          Diavolo laughed.         "No," he said. "No. I just wanted to know."          "Okay," she replied. "But I know you didn't bring me to this beautiful restaurant to ask about my stay."          "No, I suppose I didn't." His words ended in a trill, almost as if he was waiting for her to make the next move, but with a distinct lack of details as to why she was here, she bowed her head, letting the awkward silence fill in, hoping this chair would come to life and devour her.          “I’m not really sure how much help I’ll be for anything, to be honest.” She said. “I’m flattered, but…”         “Yuri, I need you to marry me.”         Dead air. That's what came of her parted lips. She hadn't even closed her mouth when Diavolo processed his words. He shook his head, feeling a bright burn in his cheeks as he cleared his throat.         "I could have said that better," he said.          "Sir?* She asked.          "I can explain," he said. "You are aware that I am the next in line for the throne, correct?"         "Yes."         "I have been raised for this position for thousands of years, and I've always done as instructed, learned all there is to learn, and the powers that be have decided that I'm ready."         "That's amazing!" Yuri replied with a big grin. "Congratulations Lord Diavolo!"          "Thank you," his smile took up the majority of his face, a bright beam that overtook the single candle at their table, and Yuri blushed.         I'd give anything to see that smile…         "However," he added. "There is one condition I seemed to have overlooked in all this, a requirement of ascension is to have a partner, one who can ensure the successful production of an heir."          "That's...awfully practical." Yuri replied. "And you're asking me to...take that spot?"         "I am," he murmured. "Now I'm not asking you out of convenience. I am asking because you have become a trusted friend, and because...well...you are the only woman who isn't afraid to be seen with me. The only person, aside from Lucifer and Barbatos, who will speak to me...who isn't afraid of me."         "Dia…" she whispered. The turn of his lips at her response made the pit of her belly burn. It was something so guarded, an attempt at hubris that didn't quite reach his eyes. Eyes that glimmered with tears in the flickering light of their table's candle. She saw his knuckles clenched above the table, fingers wrapped around the soup spoon, and without thinking, she felt his warm skin under her hand. Smooth as marble, strong and still. He barely noticed at first, but once he did, he cleared his throat and averted his eyes, but very pointedly did not move his hand away.         "Basically," he said. "I need your help with the ceremonial side for things. My coronation with take place during my wedding, and if you accept...it would also be your coronation...and wedding."          "Coronation?" She asked.         "Yes…" he said quietly. "Even at the lowest level of royalty, it would  involve changing your title, you would become Lady Diavolo, and I would become King...you would take on the responsibility I currently possess, and...well, the rest of the logistics could be decided later."          "I see…"         "Now I will not force you to agree, I will not hold you against your will, I am simply asking you...because...well to be perfectly honesty with you, Yrui...there isn't another lady I would want to ask.'         "Diavolo?" she asked.         "Not to mention, Barbatos told me. I asked him to look into the futures, the realities where this takes place, and I either forfeit the crown, or I live in a loveless arrangement with some other demon nobility, or I ask you...and he swore we were happy."          "Wow…"         "Is this too much?" He asked. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean…."         "Here you are," a raspy voice broke off his apology as the horned waiter set down plates at the table for them.          Carved Shadow Hog was the only food item on the plates that Yuri recognized having enjoyed it with the brothers before. However the cup holding an odd-looking relish had bits resembling pineapple. Diavolo smiled in thanks as he lifted his fork.          "It looks delicious," Yuri said carefully. The waiter bowed his head before slithering away to the next table and Yuri picked up her fork, first going for the medley of steamed bitter vegetables.         She learned early on not to judge meals by name or appearance, because the one she feared most, the Quetzalcoatl brains had ended up becoming a comfort food for her. She recognized the prickly cucumber and the odd little root vegetable, one that Asmo seemed to favor, always saying that it was good for reducing puffy skin under one's eyes.          Diavolo paused his words long enough to take a bite of his shadow hog topped with the pineapple relish, though the second his mouth closed, he frowned, lips pursing and mouth scrunching as his eyes squinted into slits. He chewed hard, quickly swallowing and shuddering before taking a longer-than-necessary sip of red wine.          "Is everything okay, sir?" She asked.          He nodded, using the napkin to wipe his top lip.          "There are...pickles...in the pineapple relish." He grumbled.         She laughed. A loud sound that traveled through the dining room and left her quickly covering her mouth in embarrassment         "Oh, I see…" she smirked, hiding a giggle behind her napkin as she dabbed at her lips. Fondly, she remembered their conversations, the first time Diavolo ever confessed his hatred for pickles, and the time Barbatos and Lucifer devised a plan to slowly incorporate them into his meals. He'd been weary of any food prepared by them for months following the incident.          "You like pickles, don't you, Yuri?" He asked.         "I do, in fact." She replied. He smiled politely, using just his thumb and index finger to hastily pick up the small glass bowl and placed it gingerly on her plate.          "For you, my dear." he said softly.         Yuri giggled, accepting it and placing it beside her own. After a quick sample of it with the tip of her fork, she beamed.          "This is delicious!" She said.         "Ah the perks of partnership…" Diavolo mused. "One to enjoy the foods you do not."         "If I accept this deal," she said. "I know there is more than just a title and a dress. What are the things I will be learning?"         "Good question! I'll admit even I hadn't thought that part all the way through yet," he blushed. "You would require at least a crash course of everything I learned growing up... considering I have six thousand years of knowledge...and you only have two months to learn everything…"         "I'm sorry," she interrupted. "Two months?"          He had the decency to look stricken as he took in her response.         "Yes…" he said. "I know that is hardly any time, and I wished I had more time to offer you," His fingertips drummed against the surface of the table as he willed himself to he devoured into the chair behind him now. "I, myself, only found out about all of this today."         "I see…" she replied.         "Well, I think I have said everything I can on this topic, and I believe my last method of persuasion is simply begging on my knees, but I do hope you wouldn't have me do that here."          Yuri blushed at the idea, waving away the mental image and nodded.         "If I may...do I have time?" She asked. "At least tonight...just to think about it?"          "It is only right to grant you that," he said. "Very well. Once we finish our meal I will walk you back to The House of Lamentation."          "Thank you." She smiled.          

         Yuri was surprised at how nice it was to spend time with Diavolo alone. It was a thought that at one point intimidated her, but now more than ever she realized just how lonely the young demon prince was.          Their dinner conversation often shifted quickly, and once she used her DDD to find a Devilgram post he told her about, she finally saw the list of comments under each post.         Under one of Mammon and Leviathan, Diavolo had commented "That looks like fun!"          Under one of Asmodeus with shopping bags. "How wonderful!"         A post from Simeon where Luke seemed to be nudging Solomon out of the Purgatory Hall Kitchen. "Come have tea sometime!"

I'd like to join next time! Hope you enjoyed yourself! We should get together!

        Listening to him animatedly discuss things regarding those around him, all as heresay, made her realize how little he was in on others' lives.          He needed someone. A social buffer, the small cute thing that made him seem more approachable.          He needed a friend who appreciated him as much as he appreciated other.         He needed a partner.         And he'd asked her to be just that.         After dinner, and a bill he didn't even let her look at, he kept his word and walked with her right up to the gate, a quick goodbye and a quicker tight hug, and he watched as she walked up the steps and used her key to open the door.          I'll do it. 

[thevictorianghost]

The ATLA Comics and the Character Assassination of Zuko’s, Aang’s and Katara’s character arcs (in one page!)

Thank you to Emma/jerkbendinq on Twitter for providing me this image!

Look. I knew the ATLA comics were bad. I’d heard, per example, about what they’d done to the Southern Water Tribe. And, especially, the glorification of industrialization in a world where bending exists, which leads to Northern Water Tribe imperalism and colonization. Others have talked about this in depth and have the tools to talk about these topics.

But THIS! THIS I want to talk about!

Let’s start with this. I know nothing about the context of this scene. But I don’t need context. Because there is SO MUCH TO UNPACK HERE. 

But we do, John Mulaney.

Oooooh, but we do. 

I have too much time on my hands.

I felt so viscerally pissed when I read this that I decided to write this meta. 

So here we go.

Let’s analyze this. Line by line.

Zuko: If you ever see me turning into my father, I want you to... I want you to end me.

Aang: What?!

Up ‘till now, not that bad. Aang’s character’s integrity is kept intact for the moment. Remember the pacifistic monk who didn’t want to kill Ozai? I think he’s here in this reaction. 

Aang: No, I'm not gonna end it like this.

All right. 

But the emphasis on the words end me make me really uncomfortable. This doesn’t feel like Zuko talking. Somehow, these words feel like they could fit more coming out of Azula’s mouth than anyone else’s. 

Azula: You mean it’s not obvious yet? I’m about to celebrate becoming an only child!

But we’ve barely started.

Let’s continue to the next panel.

Zuko: Even now, after everything that’s happened, my family’s legacy is still a part of me.

I’M SORRY??!? 

Is this somehow a bastardized version of this scene from The Avatar and the Firelord??!?

Iroh: Because understanding the struggle between your two great-grandfathers can help you better understand the battle within yourself. Evil and good are always at war inside you, Zuko. It is your nature, your legacy. But, there is a bright side. What happened generations ago can be resolved now, by you. Because of your legacy, you alone can cleanse the sins of our family and the Fire Nation. Born in you, along with all the strife, is the power to restore balance to the world.

(I don’t particularly like this dichotomy either. Good and evil aren’t battling within Zuko. It’s his struggle between doing the righ thing and doing the wrong thing that is. But whatever. I’ll let THAT slide.)

What happened to the “bright side” in the comics?? What happened to the power Zuko has within himself to restore balance to the world?? His entire character growth somehow doesn’t matter anymore because of his father’s and his forefathers’ legacies? The “good” in him doesn’t matter anymore?? 

What happened to THIS scene?!

Katara: You mean, after all Roku and Sozin went through together, even after Roku showed him mercy, Sozin betrayed him like that‌?

Toph: It's like these people are born bad.

Aang: No, that's wrong. I don't think that was the point of what Roku showed me at all.

Sokka: Then what was the point?

Aang: Roku was just as much Fire Nation as Sozin was, right? If anything, their story proves anyone's capable of great good and great evil. Everyone, even the Fire Lord and the Fire Nation have to be treated like they're worth giving a chance. 

Or this?!

Zuko: For so long, all I wanted was for you to love me, to accept me. I thought it was my honor I wanted, but really, I was just trying to please you. You, my father, who banished me just for talking out of turn. How could you possibly justify a duel with a child?

Ozai: It was to teach you respect!

Zuko: It was cruel! And it was wrong.

Ozai: Then you have learned nothing.

Zuko: No, I've learned everything! And I've had to learn it on my own! Growing up, we were taught that the Fire Nation was the greatest civilization in history. And somehow, the War was our way of sharing our greatness with the rest of the world. What an amazing lie that was. The people of the world are terrified by the Fire Nation. They don't see our greatness. They hate us! And we deserve it!  We've created an era of fear in the world. And if we don't want the world to destroy itself, we need to replace it with an era of peace and kindness.

What happened to Zuko’s stand against Ozai during the Day of Black Sun?? What happened to Zuko’s entire character arc from Book 2 onwards?? Suddenly, because he has his father’s blood in his veins, he’s doomed to carry his legacy? What happened to Zuko creating his OWN destiny, to change the world??

Sigh.

This wasn’t the most insulting line in that entire paragraph, though. 

THIS WAS.

Zuko: That’s why it’s my duty to heal the scars that the Fire Nation has left on the world.

I BEG YOUR PARDON?!?

NOTICE THE EMPHASIS I PUT ON THE WORD SCARS?!?

They keep comparing Ozai with Zuko THIS ENTIRE TIME. He’s terrified of failing the Fire Nation. He’s terrified of failing the world. He’s terrified of failing Aang and the Four Nations.

Zuko is terrified of becoming his genocidal abusive father.

AND SUDDENLY THEY BRING UP SCARS??!?

SCARS??

FUCKING SCARS???!?

(But we’ll come back to Katara.)

Let’s keep going or I’ll combust on the spot.

Zuko: But the Fire Lord’s throne comes with a lot of pressures.

Two things about this line.

First of all. It... bothers me that Zuko uses the term “the Fire Lord’s throne” instead of “my throne”. It’s like he still hasn’t accepted he’s the Fire Lord. Zuko’s throne doesn’t feel like it belongs to an individual who is allowed choices in this scene. It’s like he believes he’s all the Fire Lords who were his predecessors. And knowing that he thinks he carries his family’s legacy like a weight on his shoulders... that doesn’t bode well.

And second of all. Where is Iroh in all of this? What happened to Iroh’s mentorship? His kind words to remind Zuko that he can rake control of his own destiny? Is he still in Ba Sing Se? Taking care of the Jasmine Dragon? Has he completely left Zuko alone, enough so that the only person he can ever confide in is Aang, who has Avatar duties to fill?

What happened to this?

Iroh: You know Prince Zuko, destiny is a funny thing. You never know how things are going to work out. But if you keep an open mind, and an open heart, I promise you will find your own destiny someday.

Or this??

Iroh: I was never angry with you. I was sad because I was afraid you lost your way. And you did it by yourself.  And I am so happy you found your way here.

(Can anyone give Zuko a hug?? Please??)

Or even THIS??

Iroh: No. Someone new must take the throne. An idealist with a pure heart  and unquestionable honor. It has to be you, Prince Zuko.

Zuko: Unquestionable honor? But I've made so many mistakes.

Iroh: Yes, you have. You've struggled; you've suffered, but you have always followed your own path. You restored your own honor, and only you can restore the honor of the Fire Nation.

Oof. Okay. Let’s keep going.

Zuko: And if I’m being honest with myself... I need a safety net. The world needs a safety net. That’s what I need you to be, Aang. The safety net.

Again. Two things about this line.

What does Zuko mean when he says “the world needs a safety net”? What does he think ending him will accomplish for the world? Zuko’s DEATH could leave an opening for Ozai to take the throne! Because again, Aang has refused to kill Ozai in cold blood! As Iroh has said MULTIPLE TIMES by now and as Zuko has said himself, HE CAN RESTORE BALANCE TO THE WORLD TOO. It doesn’t all revolve around Aang. 

Speaking of Aang, here’s the second thing. Of course, Aang is the Avatar. But he himself alone couldn’t end the war during Sozin’s Comet. Zuko and Katara, Suki and Sokka and Toph, and the Order of the White Lotus all participated. Why should Aang be the only one to take this godawful decision? Why??

What happened to cooperation?? What happened to the Four Nations working together to end the Hundred Year War?? 

On to the next line.

Aang: Zuko, you're not your dad! And you're my friend! How can you expect me--"

One more time. Two things about this scene.

First of all, I’m going to be sarcastic, here. Forgive me, but I have to. 

Thank you, Aang, for pointing out that Zuko is NOT his father and that YES, you ARE his friend. 

Let’s go back to Aang’s speech at the end of the Avatar and the Fire Lord.

Aang: And I also think it was about friendships.

Toph: Do you really think friendships can last more than one lifetime?

Aang: I don't see why not.

Sokka: Well, scientifically speaking, there's no way to prove that...

Katara: Oh, Sokka, just hold hands.

If friendships can last more than one lifetime... why do you have to remind Zuko that you’re his friend, Aang? At least you’re not considering downright killing him and you don’t want to do this, you know!

Does that mean that if he wasn’t your friend and that if he was like Ozai, you’d kill him, though? Is that what you’re trying to say? Because the LAST time you were confronted with the idea of killing someone who WAS LIKE Ozai, oh no wait, who WAS Ozai, you said this!

Aang: This isn't a joke, Sokka! None of you understand the position I'm in.

Katara: Aang, we do understand. It's just ...

Aang: Just what, Katara? What?

Katara: We're trying to help!

Aang: Then, when you figure out a way for me to beat the Fire Lord without taking his life, I'd love to hear it!

What happened to that? 

Hm?

Next line. Once again.

Zuko: As your friend, I'm asking you -- if you ever see me go bad, end me. Promise me, Aang.

Again with these characters having to remind each other that they’re friends! Do you stop being friends while travelling the world and have to remind each other that you’re friends once you meet again? Is that it? (/s)

But that’s not what’s bothering me about this line.

What has Katara said since the beginning of this page?

Absolutely. Nothing.

And this line simply states that Aang is Zuko’s friend. But what about Katara? Are they still friends? They don’t interact much. She barely looks at him this entire page. They don’t talk. This whole scene is about Zuko and Aang. What is Katara doing here? Why is she here?

Oh. Wait.

The ONLY THING Katara does in this entire page...

When Aang looks at her, wondering what to do...

SHE NODS.

SHE. NODS.

She gives Aang the push in the right direction to... wait for it...

MURDER ZUKO WITH HIS BARE HANDS!

Is this supposed to be a callback to THIS scene??

Katara: You might have everyone else here buying your ... transformation, but you and I both know you've struggled with doing the right thing in the past. So let me tell you something, right now. You make one step backward, one slip-up, give me one reason to think you might hurt Aang, and you won't have to worry about your destiny anymore. Because I'll make sure your destiny ends... right then and there. Permanently.

Then what happened to this??

Or this???

Katara: I didn't forgive him. I'll never forgive him. But I am ready to forgive you.

Not only is it that KATARA AGREES TO MURDER ZUKO, she does it while being ENTIRELY SILENT. She never talks. She only nods. Katara has been reduced to become Aang’s silent advisor. 

What happened to THIS girl??!

Katara: I will never, ever turn my back on people who need me!

Or THIS girl?

Zuko: Katara! How would you like to help me put Azula in her place?

Katara: It would be my pleasure.

Or THIS girl?

Katara: ZUKO!

THIS GIRL?

THIS GIRL??!?

(*Bangs head against keyboard*)

And on to the final line. The nail in the coffin.

Aang: ... Fine. I promise.

There we are. He’s accepted it. He’s going to do it if he has to. He’s promised, right? Aang just... gives in. At least Aang doesn’t look thrilled at the idea of doing this. Which isn’t what I can say about Katara. Who looks damn ready to end Zuko right now if that’s necessary. Not that she says anything. 

But the simple fact that they are, THE THREE OF THEM, considering this SUICIDE PACT... 

...is infuriating.

Then we end with a view of the starry night sky as fireworks come to life.

Yeah, right. Sure. Talk about reading the room here, folks.

So let me recap ALL OF THIS.

Zuko is a character who has been abused for years by his father, burned at the age of thirteen and sent on a quest to find the Avatar. During the show, he learns that he doesn’t have to obey his father, that he can make his own choices and create his own destiny and legacy. He’ll be the new Fire Lord who will usher the Fire Nation in an era of peace, helped by Iroh and his friends.

Aang is a pacifist who refuses to kill Ozai, Zuko’s aforementioned abusive and genocidal father. Killing is not the answer for him; he desperately wants to find a way out, enough so that he gets into a fight with his friends about the mere idea of killing Ozai. He values his friends dearly and learns that the world doesn’t only rely on himself, that he has friends he can count upon. 

Katara is a warrior girl who doesn’t back down from a fight. After many trials and trebulations, after being betrayed by Zuko and forgiving him in the end, she has become one of Zuko’s closest friends and allies, especially in their fight against Azula. She’s not afraid to voice her opinions and will never turn her back on people who need her.

But according to the comics... none of that seems to be true!

Or didn’t we watch the same show?

What happened to all of that? What happened to these characters?

I dunno.

You tell me.

[teacupfulofstarshine]

pattonella part 9: virgil sweetheart PLEASE learn how to read the room i’m begging you

cw: mentions of injury, mentions of death, nightmare, anxiety attack, mild angst

part 1 // part 2 // part 3 // part 4 // part 5 // part 6 // part 7 // part 8 // read it on ao3!! 

“can i please be cleared to read books on my own now?” logan says. “because i love the sound of virgil’s voice, but i’m sure he has better things to be doing than sitting here reading to me at all hours.”

“shut up, there’s nowhere i’d rather be,” virgil says. he flushes immediately, but logan just smiles and reaches for his hand. remy rolls his eyes and peers into logan’s eye. 

“you were nearly killed by a horse, prince logan, i think you can afford to relax just a little.” logan huffs, sounding very much like a small child, and virgil smiles. “still, it’s been about a week . . . i suppose i can clear you. but no strenuous activity, and the second you start feeling any pain or discomfort or anything out of the ordinary you come and tell me, you understand?” 

“crystal clear,” logan says, sitting up a little too fast and wincing. remy glares suspiciously at him, but doesn’t offer any additional commentary. “i am looking forward to the ability to walk around without you two constantly hovering over me as though i am made of spun glass.” 

“maybe if you would stop running into danger,” remy mutters. he reaches out and ruffles logan’s hair softly, and the prince doesn’t immediately bat his hand away. “i’m still sending healing potions with your meals, and you will drink them all.” 

“yes, mother,” logan huffs playfully. remy rolls his eyes again and flounces out of the room. virgil has never seen a real human flounce before, but there truly is no other word to describe what remy is doing. 

“i bet you’re happy to be off bed rest,” virgil says. 

“ecstatic,” logan sighs. virgil stifles a yawn behind his fist, but logan immediately picks up on it. “what was that?”

“uh . . . a yawn?” 

“why are you yawning? has your sleep not been optimal?”

“not really . . .”

“why has it been -” logan’s eyes widen in recognition, and he frowns. “oh . . . i - i apologize, virgil.”

“why?”

“you have been awake because you were taking care of me. you have been foregoing sleep and tending to your own health because you have been so concerned for mine. i am so sorry, virgil, i did not mean to make you think that you had to -”

“shut up,” virgil interrupts. “you honestly think i would have been doing that shit if i didn’t care about you? if i didn’t give a fuck i would have fucked off and let someone else do it. i lo - i - um - i care about you a lot.” 

logan looks at him, hair adorably ruffled, eyes wide and pretty, face flushed pink from being buried under mountains of thick, warm blankets in the sunshine, and virgil immediately shoves a pillow into logan’s face to cover his massive blush. “shut up!” 

logan laughs softly, putting the pillow on the floor, and reaches out to take virgil’s hand. virgil huffs irritably, but he lets logan take it. “come and lay down, virgil. you are clearly exhausted. you must rest. you have dedicated your entire life this past week or so to caring for me, and that cannot be easy.” 

“it’s not work,” virgil says, remembering an old sappy book he’d read once. “not to me. not if it is you.” 

“i know,” logan says softly, “but you are tired. sleep, my dear. please? for me?” 

logan gently tugs on virgil’s hand, virtually no force behind it, and virgil topples onto the bed. he shuffles around, keeping his face pushed into the duvet, and manages to settle laying on his side, staring into logan’s eyes. this close, he can see all the freckles that cluster around logan’s nose and eyes. 

“you have stars on your ceiling,” virgil says, “and they’re on your face, too.” logan’s face turns a little pinker, and he smiles, reaching up to tuck a curl behind virgil’s ear. 

“you’re not sleeping,” he says. 

“how can i sleep when i’m looking at you?” virgil says. he bites his lip immediately, he can’t believe he said something so sappy and gay to the prince, but logan smiles and gently drags his thumb across virgil’s mouth. 

“don’t bite your lips,” he murmurs. “they’re so soft. i love to kiss them.” he leans forward and gently pushes his mouth against virgil’s, and virgil closes his eyes and exhales into the kiss. 

“here,” logan hums, carding his hand through virgil’s hair. virgil snuggles up to his chest, draping an arm over logan’s hips as he slots his legs in between his. “when i was small, before -” his chest hitches slightly under virgil’s ear. “- before my mother died, she would sing to me, and thomas used to sing it for roman and i. perhaps it will help you. i can put no magic in my voice, but i can sing.” 

“whatever you want,” virgil murmurs. “i’m sure your voice is beautiful.” 

logan takes a few deep breaths, inhales, and begins to sing. “A naeoidhean bhig, cluinn mo ghuth Mise rid' thaobh, O mhaighdean bhan . . .” 

virgil is so taken with the beauty of logan’s rich voice that he isn’t sure how he manages to fall asleep at all. 

*~*~*~*~*

everything is black, and suddenly remy appears, shining a small light into logan’s eyes to assess the severity of his concussion. past. 

everything is black, and suddenly logan appears, stroking his hand through virgil’s hair, mouth open, eyes half-shut as he sings. present. 

everything is black, and suddenly roman appears, sword raised in front of his chest, blocking one, two, three blows before an arrow pierces his shoulder, his chest, his stomach, his neck. 

future.

*~*~*~*~*

logan is half-asleep when virgil bolts upright, eyes flaring purple, screaming. “virgil -”

“something is wrong, something is wrong with roman!” virgil shrieks, voice warped and distorted and strange. logan feels his heart turn to ice and drop into his stomach. 

“what is wrong with my brother?” 

“i had a vision, he was fighting, he got pierced by arrows and he went down and something is going W R O N G logan!” 

before logan can stop him, virgil is on his feet, scrambling out of bed so fast he almost faceplants onto the ground. he’s out the door before logan can stop him, but he’s on his feet almost immediately to chase him. 

*~*~*~*~*

“are you sure this is a good idea?” claire says. her hands are clasped behind her back as she studies the map roman has spread out on the table. it’s covered in red x’s and dotted lines, surrounded with candles, with a dagger sticking out of a particular clump of trees. 

“we know that’s where they’re hiding,” roman says. “they won’t attack this village as long as we’re here, they’ll wait until we decide to ‘abandon’ these people and then they’ll raze it to the ground. we have to strike at the root of this issue, and that means attacking their hideout. we ride at dawn.” 

“prince roman,” claire says, “you know that i am your most loyal advisor. i would request permission to speak freely.” 

“granted, claire, always granted.” 

“prince roman, i think this is foolish. they let us find that base easily, too easily. i suspect it is a trap.” 

“they’re probably setting one,” roman sighs, pushing a hand through his sweaty hair. “but what do you want me to do? not attack? we know that they’re there, we know that they’re planning something!” 

“wait a day or two,” claire says. “take some time to plan a strategy. send a scout to see if there are any obvious traps that we can plan for. we have to play this smart so that we don’t end up losing soldiers.” 

“so we don’t end up losing me, you mean.”

“you are the prince of our kingdom, prince roman. you have two brothers waiting for you at home, not to mention the newly-discovered lord sanders. we cannot risk bringing you home as a corpse.” 

“you don’t have to coddle me, claire, i’m not made of glass!” 

“i never suggested as much, prince roman,” claire says coolly. “i am merely reiterating that you should remember that you cannot throw yourself recklessly into danger with no consideration of those waiting for you at home. i will leave you to your thoughts. should you choose to march in the morning, we will of course support you, but i suggest you reconsider this plan.” 

she ducks out of the tent, and roman sighs, running his fingers over the depiction of the sanders manor in the corner of the map. “patton . . . i want to come home to you . . . but i have to free these people. how do i balance this?” 

he pulls the dagger out of the map and twirls it around in his hands. he has a lot of thinking to do.

*~*~*~*~*

“i’m not sure this is okay for me to do,” thomas says, looking hesitantly at the dais. the king’s throne stands tall and regal, with the queen’s throne smaller but no less regal beside it. 

“you are the crown prince,” joan, the advisor beside him, says. “it is your right.” they hold out a small velvet pillow with the circlet of the crown prince resting on it, opal gleaming rainbow in the morning sunlight. 

“i’m not the crown prince,” thomas protests. “roman and logan aren’t married yet, i can’t legally be named the crown prince, and i’m not allowed to wear that or - or sit on the throne, or do any of this!” 

joan sets the crown on the dais and reaches out to gently take his hand. “prince thomas . . .”

“dad is still alive,” thomas says, eyes watering. “he’s weak, and he’s sick, but he’s not dead yet, i’m not - i don’t have to replace him yet . . .”

“i’m sorry, prince thomas,” joan murmurs. “i didn’t realize that it would affect you like that, i -”

“it’s not your fault,” thomas sniffles, wiping at his eyes. “i know you guys don’t think about it like that, but - but it’s my dad, you know? i know the kingdom is going to lose its leader soon, but - but i’m gonna lose my dad, you know?” 

joan nods, squeezing his hand and offering a handkerchief from their pocket. thomas takes it, dabbing at his face. “thank you, joan.”

“of course, prince thomas. you can stand on the dais if you want, since you still have to receive -” 

the door to the throne room slams open, wood ringing against stone, and thomas whirls around. before he can even reach for the hidden dagger he carries on his person always, before joan can step in front of him, virgil is speeding across the room. there are two guards behind him, trying to catch him, but virgil is outpacing them rapidly. 

“virgil?”

once he gets closer, thomas gasps, taking in details. his hair is unkempt, his clothes are askew, and his eyes are glowing solid purple. “crown prince thomas,” he says, and thomas winces at the distortion of his voice. “i have had a vision that must be brought to your attention immediately.”

“you can see the future?” joan gasps. 

“what did you see?” thomas asks. 

“prince roman is in danger,” virgil says. “there will be an attack, and he will be killed by arrows. we must aid him immediately.” 

there’s a watery noise from behind virgil, and he spins around to see patton standing behind him pressing his hands over his mouth. “roman - roman is going to die?” 

the purple in his eyes flickers away. “wh - patty?” 

“roman is going to die?” patton repeats, hurrying forward and grabbing virgil’s hands. 

“not necessarily,” virgil says, putting a hand to his head and beginning to sag forward against patton. “i - the vision showed him dying, but it also showed that giant horse killing logan a week or so ago, and he’s still alive.”

“we have a chance to stop it?” thomas says. virgil turns to look at him. 

“i - yes, your highness, i think there is a chance to save him.” 

thomas nods. “are you sufficiently prepared to travel?” 

“i can be in an hour at the least.”

“good. take a party of guards and go after roman.”

“i’m coming too,” logan says, striding through the doors. “remy cleared me from my concussion earlier, i’m going.”

“me too!” patton says. “i’m going with you, if roman is in trouble i have to help!” 

“i can’t risk you both,” thomas starts, but logan glares at him. 

“are you telling me that if father was well and running the kingdom, you wouldn’t be grabbing a sword and riding after him?” thomas winces, and logan lifts his chin victoriously. “exactly. i am going with virgil, and so is patton. roman is worth the risk.” 

thomas exhales. “go and pack, then. meet me here in an hour with a plan.” logan nods, whirls around, and hurries out of the room with virgil and patton on his heels. thomas hums, turning to joan. “i need you to bring me a specific volume of the history of the kingdom from the library.”

“of course, your highness. may i ask what for?” 

“i think i just found logan’s loophole.” 

[xsecretblastsx]

2x03 - The Dark Night

I'm actually surprised this recap came out faster than I thought it would, that's rare but I'm glad, also this episode is a fun one, or rather that's how I remember it.

Anyway, as usual recap under the cut:

Thoughts I had while watching the episode:

I know AC is a thing but it's kind of weird to have GG voice over be like: the last days of summer and the heat... and then there's this shot of Chuck drinking scotch in pajamas that look more suited for fall/winter

So I guess we're still on the Dan and Serena can't keep their hands of each other train.

Poor Blair, the Lord ain't into that, gotta love her for mentioning that Atonement scene in the library... she could totally rock that green dress.

Blair a delicate little flower, please. I do like how it's a constant the various fact that all her boyfriends never really got her, and have this fake image of her.

Jenny starring in her own version of the Devil wears prada, slaving it all around NYC

The Nate and the Duchess scene are giving me the creeps.

Compared to her season 1 looks, I'm kind of liking Vanessa's outfits so far.

No one likes to hear the hard truths of life, but Blair's words to Serena about her relationship with Dan were really spot on.

Fun fact about myself: purple is my favorite color. I guess that's why like Chuck's robe even if it makes him look like this weird junior version of Hugh Hefner.

This is the first time we see the minis!!! I loved everytime they popped up like mini cosplayers.

That outfit of Blair is one of my all time faves. Particularly the colors of the skirt

Oh Nate, even if he knows Blair's motives are never pure, he stills accepts her invitation. Go figures.

This has got to be Chuck and Serena's most funny conversation ever. Both of their expressions during the whole thing are hilarious.  

"I don't have a romantic body in my body. Least of all that one" Honestly who came up with these lines 😂😂

Looking back there were many sings of how obsessed Dan was with public opinion and his weird behaviors' for example take this throwaway line from Rufus: he still reading those Dan and Serena should they or not threads. Like what?

Dan: turns out I'm an ass but a passionate minority thinks I'm just and idiot. Yep pretty much the public opinion nowadays too.

This is so one of my fave chair lines! "The thing that always fascinated me about you: the cool exterior, the fire below" 😉

The whole scene honestly, from the way her eyes roll back to his smug smile at the end 🔥🔥🔥

Considering what happens in the second half of this season is kind of interesting to note that so far every single interaction between Blair are Nate is really passive aggressive.

Gotta give it to Vanessa even though she's freaked out after finding out Nate is sleeping with Catherine, she stills gives him a chance to explain

That scene between Catherine and Blair was actually good, because they both are right, Catherine can't stop Nate from doing what he wants, and there are things that Blair can't give up on, even if she thinks so.

Is there an emergency box for Serena Van der Woodsen? Well she lives there douche. But even if there was, what's the problem with that?

The whole Jenny & Eleanor storyline makes me feel lowkey sad for Blair, like this epiaode shouldn't Eleanor be at that party? It was parents/students thing, but Eleanor is at her atelier accepting from Jenny the kind of honest commentary she would never take from Blair

It's almost depressing to see Blair throwing herself at that Marcus guy

Chuck's "fake" accent, except it wasn't 🤭

And finally!!! All that pent up sexual frustration had to went somewhere

I'm living of Serena having moments like this one: "Fine, you know what? Life is not fair because it doesn't fit with the way you, Dan Humphrey, think it should be. But why are you always right?" Because this is it, the real crux of it, and why they keep having the same fight

Im so done with the Marcus storyline, because yes she wants his tittle, but she ain't also wrong because he kept treating her in a way that was so meh. Poor Chuck, though, but then again he kind of puts himself into this situations by ignoring his feelings at first and then they explode in his face anyway

I felt for Vanessa the whole episode, not used to that.

This Dan and Serena break up is so frustrating to watch because basically they're ending because Dan just won't meet her halfway. She's not asking him to give up all his ideals, only that he don't judge her for who she is.

I feel like Vanessa was more understanding to Nate's situation than Dan could have ever been with Serena.

For an episode that started quite sunny and happy it sure had a sad ending. Almost everyone ends up feeling pretty miserable.

This episode was one I remember mostly for that Chuck and Blair scene at that party were he's trying to seduce her, also the whole blockade thing was hilarious, this time around however while I still love those Chuck and Blair bits, I did find myself getting more invested in Nate and Vanessa and even more surprisingly on the argument between Dan and Serena, their break up scene really frustrated me.

Let's go first with the Nate, Catherine and Vanessa storyline. This is such a messed up plot, then again most of Nate’s plot that involved his family had a tendency to be that way. I may not like the details sometimes but what I do like about is how these kind of plots really showed the amount of pressure Nate’s family put on him. At this point in the show Nate’s only seventeen and yet he has to find a way to keep his mom’s head above water, so he falls prey to this woman who is just awful. Is no wonder he wanted to be with Vanessa again because she’s literally a breeze of fresh air, so far removed from his messed up world which is exactly what he needs, and yet is inevitable that she gets caught up in all the scheming and nastiness in the end. She lies to him in order to help him which is sad because help him still leaves him as prey to this woman, but that’s what I really like about this plot, Vanessa’s willingness to be there for Nate and also how understanding she was of the situation.

Vanessa, same as Dan, tends to be judgmental of others and comes from a background that has a more black and white view of morality, she was also raised by a family who despises everything the UES side represents. So imagine what it must have been for her to find out that Nate is sleeping with an older woman for money, that goes against her morals and her beliefs, she’s disgusted by the situation, and yet when Nates begs her to let him explain, she does and she ends up while not exactly approving of the situation, he understands why he’s doing it, and she tells hims that this can only bad for him and that whe should stop it, becaause he’s better than this, and she says it mainly because she in fact is concerned about him and see the best in him. This is why I like her relationship with Nate, because I feel they gave each other some needed perspective, through him she learns that not everything is black and why and that’s there a reason of why people does certain things, and through Vanessa Nate’s gets in touch with a much saner world were he can be himself. 

On the other hand, we have Dan and Serena, who for the last two episodes have been avoiding the fact that they have issues and they must be faced if they want to move forward, and it’s pretty easy to see why they were putting it off, because the moment they do it obvios that they can’t really solve them. The source of the conflict is the same as always, they keep having the same fight, except to me there’s a difference this time around, at Bart’s brunch and at the wedding Dan’s issues with Serena’s world were also framed with the fact that he discovered something about Serena he feels he can’t deal with, it annoy me both occasions at the Brunch because they had barely met and he was mad because she wasn’t the girl he thought almost as if she had deceive him, and it was like dude you guys met like yesterday, chill. At the wedding he had more of a right to be mad, because she had lied to him a lot, so one could understand his resentment with the UES in the sense that it had shaped Serena to be the kind of person that acts wildly and lies and whatever else he wanted to claimed. This time however he gets mad because the elevator situation serve as reminder of how she’s “more important” than him because she’s part of the 1%. They start arguing literally because they won’t help him as quickly as if she was her. Is it unfair? Yeah, but If we’re goint go be objective about it the mere existence of a 1% priviledge class is unfair to the the other 99%. But that’s life, and the majority of us have to deal with that, and that doesn’t mean we can be assholes to people that have been nice to us.

When he meets Serena he already knows she’s an UES princess, so if he really has a “eat the rich” mentality, why did he got involved with her? And is not like Serena was condecending or mean to him because he wasn’t rich as her, and yet he acts as if he had dated S2 Blair who was an elitist bitch to him every single time they interacted. He may also be not extremely rich as Serena, but he wasn’t poor at all. Correct me if I’m wrong but the kind of loft he lives in, at Dumbo ain’t cheap. So the way Dan acts if he had dated said a girl from a lower income background she had the right to be a total bitch to him, because he was more priviliged? Serena herself says it the best:  "Fine, you know what? Life is not fair because it doesn't fit with the way you, Dan Humphrey, think it should be. But why are you always right?” and this is prove that theirs is not a relationship problem, is exclusively a Dan problem. Serena says to him she can’t change who she is, and is not like she’s saying I won’t change the way I act, is not related to that, because their “problem” literally refers to who she is: her last name, the family she was born to. To that Dan says, I can’t change who I am either, and that's the thing Dan! hers is a matter of being, his is a matter of thinking, and she can’t change her family, but you can change the way you think, and it’s not even a drastic change, he doesn’t have to change his ideals, rather just be understanding and accept her for who she is.  If one thinks about i Vanessa did  a better job with Nate on that topic this episode than Dan ever did, so it can be done, it can be resolved, he just refuses to do it Serena doest thing through the series that definately add to their problems, their parents situation doesn’t help either, but this episode really shows that the root of their issues is Dan.

Finally, there’s Chuck and Blair, who keep having the most amazing chemistry ever, and the sexual tension in their scenes is off the charts. This episode really relays on the fact of the amount of desire they feel for each other, which seems super fitting at this point in the series because while it’s clear they have deep feelings for each other, desire was what first brought them together, yet they both believe this episode that desire isn’t as exclusive as feelings, it’s easier to feel desire and so they think they can easily find it in other people, but what they discover this episode is that sadly that wasn’t the case. In Blair’s case it has to do in part with the fact that Marcus doesn’t really sees her that way, which makes me sad because here she is again dating a guy who refuses to be passionate about her, but even if he did, she’s forcing the passion, is not really there and can she honestly live like that? Like something is missing? Sadly, no. Oh she’s going to try, not only this season in fact, but is never going to fully substitute the one she has with Chuck.

Chuck faces the same issue, in quite a very literal way, which is hilarious. Chuck Bass playboy extraordinarie is suffering from a “blockage”, a very PG-13 way of saying that he can’t get it up, which is obviously a big tragedy for a guy like him, that amuses Serena to no end even if she can’t quite believe it. Anyway, this is the way that Chuck learns that feelings can win over desire, and that ther is more to sex than just a momentary physical pleasure, which is something he really need it to learn. As long as he can frame what he feels for Blair as mere desire, nothing beyond really good chemistry, is easier for him to see his pursuing of her as only a matter of seduction, easier to ingore that it hurts that she’s with someone else, and his regret over the fact that this whole situation was his own doing, at the end he finally admits to himself that is more than seduction, which is why I believe all his plots from here on are more based on getting her to go to him, not because she desires him, but because she needs him. But that’s for the next episode.

Random bits I’ve noticed:

Because later on this show  got to the point of being like Chuck had no culture whatsover, and as such Blair couldn’t possibly have any intellectual talk with him, I would like to point out that he mentions madame butterfly as a reference to the Japanesse flight attendant, which means he knows the opera. And I can totally picture him, listening to opera from time to time just because, he’s dramatic and larger than life sometimes. It fits him.

He also mentions  Little Lord Fauntleroy which is a children book, and I like to believe he at least got one decent nanny while growing up and that she gave it to him. 

Finally a pic of the minis, because I love them

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, KAT! You’ve been accepted for the role of OTHELLO. Admin Rosey: So, one thing that’s really difficult to highlight without overemphasizing is Othello’s dichotomy and his constant conflict. Sometimes you can focus so wholly on one aspect of a character that it’s overwhelming. But Kat, you write Odin so effortlessly, so FREAKING effortlessly that you capture it throughout the application as an integral part of his character -- interweaving it into the plot, the sample, even the “what drew you to this character” section. I am completely blown away and utterly terrified of what havoc you’re going to wreak on the dash. I am screaming over this application and I always will, time and time again. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Kat Age | 25 Preferred Pronouns | She/her Activity Level | OK so my classes went online and my job has cut staff in half so I have so much free time and so much muse. Listen…. LISTEN I know I’m not always reliable but it’s game time lemme say like at least twice a week, I’m here for the haul let’s write baby!!!!!!!!!!! Timezone | EST How did you find the rp? | I originally came across it in the lsrpg tag, also my girl Taryn recommended it and also I miss y’all :( Current/Past RP Accounts | These are links to inactive past accounts:

https://neosy.tumblr.com/ https://grchcmisms.tumblr.com/ https://99gael.tumblr.com/ https://halogenq.tumblr.com/ https://odinbellc.tumblr.com/ ;) https://pavellam.tumblr.com/

IN CHARACTER

Character | Othello, Odin Bello – requesting faceclaim change to Trevante Rhodes :^) What drew you to this character? |

Through my first experience writing Odin I learned a lot about both him and myself as a writer. He was initially a challenge for me because at my roots I was never someone successful in writing characters with good intent, the easier side of him being the one of violence and chaos, something that was difficult considering more often than not… that isn’t who Odin is, or more fittingly, who he wants to be. I struggled with his daily life, the man he tries so hard to be and who he’s used to becoming over the years and I realized that was the key in; the struggle. I’ve teetered around writing for a while recently, the desire and the muse not being there for me when I remembered my dear, dear, Odin and for a split second I wondered about him. Such an interesting thing, to wonder about a character, to dive deep into your mind’s eye and ask, “How is he doing, I wonder? The man of gold and copper, the being of olympus and hades? How is my boy?” And realizing the responsibility of creating and finding that out is all mine. It felt like seeing a past lover in the check out line, wide eyes as you remember the missed calls and blocked number, and realize how fuckin’ good they look today and, damn, were stupid for leaving them.

Dearest Odin, please take me back. I miss you so dearly. I’ll try hard not to leave you so suddenly this time, that was my bad.

Who am I to fool myself? My heart always brings me back to him. Feed me an optimist with nothing but a history of failure, rocks beating down on a pristine marble surface til the cracks spell misery. It’s all his fault, the pain, suffering, and failure… but he tries so hard. It’s as if he’s doomed from the beginning, the first cries from his mouth as a child, a bad omen, the first steps he takes, the small tottering of a baby, were faced in the wrong direction. Some people are born bad, some people are cultivated as such, and Odin, at his root, is a demon in disguise even despite his most valiant efforts; it’s a nature he fights everyday and, oh, the battle grows bloodier and bloodier.

The rest may look familiar to you:

I’ve always been a sucker for a good heart and bruised knuckles.

Such beauty and chaos, such destruction and uncertainty, an aching heart that slips through your fingers as you struggle to grasp it, begging it to hold still. He shakes and struggles with nature and nurture, who he should be and who he wants to be, and more importantly, what he’s become. He feels the remorse and pain of it everyday when he wakes and each night he goes to sleep – for a time he managed to be the person he worked so hard to be. It crumbled under his feet and his developing insanity, the rumble of his father’s ways breaking the ground under his skin and causing something of a snap, a moment of true obscurity. He hates himself for it, but he cannot yet again break his mold, he cannot become someone else. His will is cracking, his heart breaking.

Give me his nuance, give me his pain, give me his turmoil, and oh, please, give me his struggle; the desperate gasp of collapsed lungs and a tattered chest. I cannot stress how beautiful I find him, the feeling in my ribcage so solemn at his childhood and forthcoming, his painful attributes and breaking spirit. A man who shows his kindness through terror and bloodshed, so intent on being a good person that he’d tear the throat of a thief with his teeth.

Yes, I’ve found love.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? | Where do you see this character developing, and what kind of actions would you have them take to get there? 3 future plot ideas would be preferable.

(I have new ideas but lord, do I struggle with formulating plot ideas in this format so I’m just gunna keep the same ones because of such and because I DO in fact still want to play them out.)

MEN SHOULD BE WHAT THEY SEEM //

Oh, can the flash of his teeth brighten a room. His smile is bright but, these days, so rarely genuine. He no longer knows who he is truly fighting for, what side of the coin he lays on with his copper spinning on its side in a never ending spiral. He does not know where he belongs, nor, who he truly is and it plagues him in a way that’s all too familiar, a way that feels like his mother’s comfort and his father’s recklessness, the smell of alcohol on someone’s tongue when they speak and the feeling of a caress on skin. He needs to make a choice, a permanent decision for once in his life, pick his path and follow it to the end instead of cutting through the woods once more. Who are you, Odin? His own face in the mirror becoming more unfamiliar in each passing day, a building anxiety and insanity, a hurricane creating a disaster inside him. Who are you?

His reflection tired, tainting his handsome face and false expressions, a hunger growing just under the surface, a desperation so hot; who will you be?

FOR SHE HAD EYES AND CHOSE ME //

Delilah, oh, how she filled something inside of him, and oh, how he tore into the filled space as if rabid, as if being whole was too much to bear, the filled space too heavy, and the paranoia of losing it all creasing his forehead and melting in his palms.

So he did what he does best, and he ripped through the plaster and insulation like a hammer, shattered the glass and caused the empty space to bleed. It hasn’t stopped aching, despite his insistence that it has healed, sometimes he still wakes with his shirt soaked in blood, drenched in suffering. How can he learn to forgive? He learned his lessons but the morals cannot seem to stick, the weakness he caused in his own self and the horror he caused for the woman he loved – loves, still finding its way through his mind and heart. He seeks self forgiveness just as much if not more than he seeks hers. He cannot move on without finding solace or closure but those are two things so hard to capture and accept. Sometimes, he feels so much like his father with his past misgivings it stirs disgust.

It’s time to repent.

THE GREEN EYED MONSTER //

Ivan is a scab, an infection that Odin refuses to treat. He’s become cautious, wearily aware of betrayal in the past and more on the horizon. He has a feeling, a ponderance that keeps him up at night, the sends shocks through his veins. He hates to think of his friend, his family, as a traitor, as a monster in disguise seeking to antagonize the worst parts of Odin himself, but it’s becoming harder and harder to ignore. It scrapes the back of his mind, creates an itch that he cannot scratch no matter how deep he digs, no matter if the skin starts bleeding, it won’t go away. How does he cut out another piece of his life, another piece of himself so vital? It feels like he is losing those most important to him, that they’re all turning on him and it creates nothing but fear, more paranoia and uncertainty.

He wants so desperately to be wrong, but knows what will happen if he is not.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | If anyone deserves to die at some point in this rp I feel like Odin’s a good contender to get fuckin’ GANKED

IN DEPTH

Please choose between the interview or the para sample (or both, if you like!)

In-Character Para Sample:

Act I

The sun beats down on darkened skin, wind blowing through open cruiser windows, sunglasses adorned on his face and a holder keeps track of coffees. In the daylight he glistens – not in a literal sense of glowing skin and eyes, he does not hover over the earth as if ethereal, not a streak against the sky that blinds any human eyes that dare linger, but instead in the sense that no one could ever find the man to be anything but happy. His teeth, those straight, white, teeth that come alive in a smile and clear rooms with a sneer peek from behind pulled lips in a grin. He walks with a swagger, bearing gifts in coffee for other officers and sharp humor and barked laughs for poor moods. He so easily falls into the facade of being created from nothing but light and the body of Christ, a saint in all regards except moral, light jests greeting all who perceive him and all who engage.

Well groomed, upkept and clean, there was no reason to suspect anything was amiss in the crook of his grins, the sharp of his wit, the movements of his muscles under skin. He even makes arrests like a holy man, like someone with something to lose to violence. His hands rest on the steering wheel, music plays from the stereo and he nods his head, every other line finding its way out of his lips even in no one’s presence but his own. He isn’t playing a character in the moment, enjoying the everydayness of the outside world, the warmth of the air touching his limbs and being sucked into his lungs. He feels joy, he embodies it, he hovers with it. His foot eases off the gas at the turn of a light and one hand finds itself resting outside the drivers window, head cocked to the side, heart beating steadily in his chest – firm and ever present in the strength of his pulse.

A human being in all forms; a person, a person, a person, and his phone rings.

Pulling in the parking lot he answers the call, the perspective outside leaves the voice on the other end muffled as it’s pressed to his ear, his face falling ever so slightly, car pushed into park. He nods even though the speaker cannot see him, he makes a sound of understanding as they continue and suddenly something is more solid inside of him. The fluidity, the liquid that flowed between sunlight and good music steels itself against the reality of his life, of who he is and what he is to do, the lake jostled and good-feelings distorted. It’s not for the faint of heart, not created for those with poor constitution, and he is a police officer until ten tonight; that’s what he says to the voice on the other end so they tell him to have it done by eleven. He does not hesitate until he hangs up, a sigh of the last good breath leaving his lungs. A moment of silence for what he lost.

He grabs the coffees and heads inside.

Act II

The headlights send streaks through the night, the yellow color sending shadows running rampant across the near empty field – long and sickly. The air is not still but choked, a vice grip stealing the oxygen away from those who dared attempt breathing. There stood a figure in the darkness, large shoulders over a larger frame, muscles tightened as he digs and digs, the shovel breaking the earth harshly with each bend of his arms. His breathing is rough, like a rubber band pulled to full capacity trying to bend and break to fit the expansion of his lungs. The shovel carries on.

The silence that hung heavy around the lone sound of crumbling dirt could kill in its own regard; ringing in his ears as he ignores the shower curtain wrapped in duct tape buried in the back corners of his trunk. Odin’s mind is empty to everything but the task, split skin and dried blood from his face and knuckles, the bruises adorning his ribcage. Perhaps it was self defense for the sake of defense, he threw the first punch but it was returned just as well and by then, truly, the control was lost. It was what they had wanted to happen, and he was nothing if not complicit. He supposed that was what they liked about him, another body, a bloodhound. Caving for the sake of therapy, sober by daylight and drenched in sweat and blood by nighttime –  if only to keep his sanity. He was nothing if not built of power and control in both physical and mental regards over everyone but himself.

Try to carve a better god out of wood, put him on a pedestal and pray all you’d like, the real sacrifice will come in blood much later – but this flesh and bone, that which has created the man who finds himself up to his chest in dirt standing at over six feet, he is paid now and up front. He is solid, and real.

He straightens up, dirt caked to his jeans and soiled t-shirt, sweat broken across his skin making him shine under the glare of the headlight, the sheen making him appear as if glowing under the half exposed moon. He plants his hands on the outside on the deepened earth and pulls himself out, breathing hard through his nose, a noise like a grunt, face twisted, teeth appearing behind pulled lips. He stares at the dip of the trunk, chest moving, knuckles tightening, shovel thrown to the side. He isn’t even halfway done yet; he gathers himself, and pulls the latch free.

Act III

(TW: self harm kind of)

The neighborhood is still and quiet, blackness behind every window and curtain at such an ungodly hour, the only sounds being the low rumble of the occasional car passing on the main road nearby. In the stillness there begins a movement, the shape of a tall man shaking open the gate leading to the back of a house, his clothes defiled and leaving trails. He strips in the backyard of the home; shoes, socks, shirt, and jeans forming a pile of mud and dirt by the sliding glass doors until he stands in his boxers, fingers unlocking the back door, the cold of the night wetting trails down his back and sides, whispering to his skin. He walks slowly to avoid making any noise, the sound of keys hitting the granite of a kitchen countertop. Even despite how delicately he walks, the mass of his body makes the stairs protest lowly when his feet find them.

The man first goes to the bathroom, the light flicked on as he tries to avoid his face in the mirror. He is not the same creature that caused the blood to pool in his wounds, not the same monster with dirt caked under his nails – not here, he can’t be; not in front of her. He turns on the shower, body directed towards a corner of the bathroom while he waits for the water to heat, staring blankly at the space where the two walls meet, hands twitching, brain fighting not to think, the sound of static until smoke fills the room. The adrenaline still pumps through his veins, the wild-eyed insanity created by anger and a lack of self control, the rush of the final blow still stinging in the shaking of his muscles. The water turns first brown from the dirt adorning his limbs, then becoming a far more sinister red when he submerges his face and hands, he washes himself slowly, rubbing at his back and shoulders, the sweat off of his skin, the searing pain of smoking water near boiling scalding the back of his neck. He doesn’t allow himself to think, not now, not yet. He doesn’t hum or sing, doesn’t talk to himself, but instead thinks only of his actions as they happen or nothing at all.

He doesn’t know how long he stands under the water, so hot it scalds, burns off the sin and the disgust, scrubbing and scrubbing until he could feel himself beginning to cause harm, wounding, convincing himself he’s becoming clean until he forces his hand, stopping the running water. He stands even longer still, his wet skin freezing over in the silence of the steamed room. Finally when he finds himself ready, he dries off until he feels pristine, the wash of the shower head like a baptism into the form of a different man, a new mold built into his model. Only then does he look in the mirror, eyes meeting the reflection of a handsome man, a cursed man, a martyr only in the sense of self respect and fear. His eyes are tired, his face adorning new cuts and scratches, bruises blooming his sides under skin and over muscle. He aches all over. He bares his teeth at the reflection and it does it right back, a snarl of bright white, the bones straight and sharp, and his eyes so quickly become frightening. He turns away.

Odin’s face peers around the door of a new room, hands finding covers and the soft sound of a woman waking. She turns to him, her face telling of sleep and her lips turned slightly down in a frown, her hands finding his chest, wrapping around his torso, her face in his neck, breath fanning over that damn skin of his and she says, “Long night?”

His fingers trail down the back of her shirt, fingertips pressing to the small of her exposed back stretched between her clothes and he hums quietly, face buried in her hair, body melting and moving to fit hers more comfortably, grip tight to squeeze her form, to hold onto something solid, to find his anchor. “Always, baby. Go back to sleep.” He says in a low voice, something comfortable, something familiar there, as if he’s smiling. She makes a noise of acceptance, curling even further towards him, as if a safety, sinking even further as his fingers trail up and down her back, soothing, as to not allow her to be distraught. Delilah was always the one he worried about, not concerning himself with the rotting inside his own chest, the ache of something breaking within him. He fights with the inability to sleep while the rush of the night still feeds inside of him. He does not concern himself with what little is left of him because while he is with her he is safe from the part of himself that only consumes, he is not concerned with the fragility of his own being, not while he breathes in the heat radiating off of l'amore della sua vita.

Meanwhile, miles and miles away, something begins to rot under the cover of freshly turned Earth.

Extras: I made a tag for him a long time ago and haven’t touched it much since tbh but like I'ma probably add stuff the next few days so this 4 u: https://hypnosreigns.tumblr.com/tagged/character:%20odin%20bello

[julibf]

WHY THE END OF GAME OF THRONES IS NOT WORKING FOR ME....

I told in some of my past metas, that I wrote after the show was done, why the ending was so unsatisfying and I am going to try to explain why here in some point. Its not because it was sad and heartbreaking, or some of our theories never really turned out to be true.

I am afraid to say, Its George RRM who is letting me down, not Benioff and Weiss. So lets start with the points that are making my head spin.

BRAN THE BROKEN KING

If accept Bran Stark as the final King of this story, I have to pretend I didnt read the past books A CLASH IF KINGS and a FEAST FOR CROWS, where we had very good contenders fighting for the Throne (Rob Stark, Renly Baratheon, Stannis Baratheon, Joffrey Baratheon, etc) Yes, some of those men were not so good from a moral point of view, but they brought strength, militar support, militar and political alliances, legitimate claims to the Throne...

I could go on and on and on. There is absolutely no reason for why would Yara Greyjoy would bend the knee to Brandon Stark and accept him as her leader and ruler; or the Prince of Dorne, or the Lords from the Westerlands. This choice is absolutely absurd and if you read the books you would know that picking a boy king, with no claim to the Throne or no powerful armies makes any sense at all. Whe we add the fact Bran had hardly any experience ruling or leading people during the 7 years of this story, this pic gets even more and more bizarre.Not to mention, I really dislike the idea that humans are incapable to control their own emotions, and because of that we must pick a God like creature with no emotions.

 I understand George wanted a surprising ending and he wanted to go against the expectations, but this choice is an utopia. I cant get behind this choice. I am sorry.

TYRION HAND OF THE KING

Again, do I have to pretend I didnt read the books and actually know that being a Kingslayer is a very terrible sin to carry on Westeros??? Tyrion is not a beloved figure in this story, even before he killed his own father, Tywin Lannister.

Tyrion decision to kill his father, not only started the downfall of House Lannister, it also made the entire region of the Westerlands political weaker and more vulnerable to future attacks.He must be a very despised figure in the entire realm. Yet, he will be the second person in charge of Westeros??

At this point I am at loss of words. I have no idea what George is planning with this.

JON KILLING DAENERYS AS A LOVER IS A TERRIBLE IDEA.

Awful, terrible, horrible idea. Any way you slice, this was a terrible idea to end such amazing novel. Its corny, outdated and down right dangerous, considering we live in a world where females are at risk of being murdered by their male partners all the time.

This is such underwhelming decision, in a sea of underwhelming decisions that I am starting to think George was simply trying to make us all hate this ending.

We could have the realm raising in Rebelion against the Queen of Ashes; we could have second Dance of Dragons; We could have Arya using her underused superpowers as a Faceless men to kill Daenerys. No, we will have Jon Snow, still making excuses for Daenerys terrible behavior, begging her to start acting better???? telling her she will always be his queen while putting a dagger into her heart!!!

Again, this ending is coming from George himself. I cant really blame the D’s for this mess.

JON SNOW AND DAENERYS TARGARYEN ROMANCE WAS ANOTHER TERRIBLE IDEA.

Awful, terrible, horrible idea. Any way you slice, this was a terrible idea to end such amazing novel. If you dont believe Political Jon theory, then Jon Snow is just a completely fool, who fell in love with a tyrant, closed his eyes to all her terrible behavior and in the end was forced to kill the love of his life to save humanity. He is a idiot. and it breaks my heart that this is how Jon Snow will be remembered by audiences.  Some people keep on telling me. “Oh, by, I dont think this is how George will write him, I think its going to be much better” But I have to say, I dont think it will.

I do believe Jon was playing Dany in the beginning of their romance and was manipulating her in order to use her dragons and armies to save the North, but I also believe that once he finds out she is his family too, he became a little torned between his Targ and Stark family. He is a family man in the end of the day and he must feel some sort of guilty for his actions towards D@ny.

I think that George will keep Political Jon hidden between the lines, just like the show did. He may write much better and be more obvious, but I dont think it will ever be revealed explicit to the audience. And this is what kills his character. If he doesnt reveal to the audience that Jon was playing Daenerys, than it seems Jon Snow never really learned anything from his past 10 years and it sucks!!

No matter how you slice it, if George will keep Jon’s actions hidden and make the audience believe he is madly in love with this entitled monster and will keep on defending her until the very end and this is the character assassination of Jon Snow.

If, he is madly in love with Dany and has to be told several times that he must kill her to save the world from her tyranny, he is an IDIOT who never learned a damn thing in his life. If he DOESNT love Dany, but out of duty still is loyal to her, and has to be told several times to kill her in order to save the world, he is an IDIOT who never fucking learns anything. I dont get what George is doing here. He is destroying the character he spend so much time bulding as a hero, but that's exactly what he wants to do it. Maybe there are NO HEROS. (what a shit message).

I wished Jon and Dany had been just allies and later became enemies. This would be a much better ending for both characters.

CHARACTERS ARCS THAT SEEMS POINTLESS BY THE END OF THE STORY....

Jaime can not put Cersei behind him and comes back to die with her in the end;

Jon Snow can never, ever, ever learn with his mistakes and is still struggling after so much pain and misery in his life, over duty and honour.

Jon Snow years and years learning to be a leader and ruler is absolutely pointless and he is sent back to the Wall, where he started???

Sansa, who dreamed about love and family all 5 novels, ends this story completely alone;

Arya, who desperate wanted to go back home since season 1, leaves once again, this time for good??? leaving her younger brother alone in the South (where Stark men dont do well), her sister alone in Winterfell and Jon all alone at the Wall. WHAT THE FUCK?????

Daenerys can never overcome her family tragedy of Fire and Blood, and becomes the monster her father was;

In fact, it seems that its impossible for humans to evolve and become better people than their parents, a God like creature must rule us all, otherwise we are lost. (I can not repeated enough times, what terrible message this ending is, and its no even true!!!!, we live in a world of no magic, and we were able to produce rules who brought us peace, progress and humanity.)

THE COMPLETE LACK OF JOY, LOVE AND HOPE....

What really got me by surprise in the end, it was how sterile and hopeless this entire story felt. George once said that he writes so much violence, deaths and rapes in his novels because it is part of real medieval life and would be a lie to avoid those themes in his books, but you know whats also real part of medieval life?? Marriages? Marriage alliances, happy normal ones, who produce children, heirs, LIFE, FUTURE!!!

Oh we had weddings on ASOIAF, but most of them ended in slaughter, death, rape, misery. I dont think we had one happy birth inthis entire story? Gilly had a child from her father rapist and Edmure was able to produce a child too, but his bride Roselin was actualy in tears when they had sex (because she was aware of the Red Wedding plans) 

What a miserable tale this was. Our heros never really get to experience real joy. They never get to fullfill their childhood dreams. But they do get to be raped and abused, so, maybe thats ALL IT REALLY happened in the medieal times. Oh wait, its not tue, The War of the Roses ended with the marriage of Henry Tutor and Elizabeth of York. They had a very happy marriage and produced several children. 

In our story, we dont get to have laughter, joy, happiness or hope for a future. We do get several pages of Theon being tortured and dismembered in the books; or Sansa being physically and mentally abused; or Jon being consumed by loneliness and grief. But I guess, thats all it happened in the medieval times, so..........

Funny thing is, you see, before the story started, marriages and children were a common occurence in Westeros. Ned and Cat had several children; Cersei and Robbert had 3; Lysa was able to produce a child too; The Tyrells keep on making babies, even God damn Lyanna Stark, who only spent a few months married to Rheagar, was able to had a child. What miracle, its almost like those events were normal facts in those days.

In our story, no House can produce children, even bastards!!! Jon, Theon and Tyrion had quite lots of sex during this story, yet no children was ever produced. Maybe all men in Westeros became sterile, once ASOIAF started it. 

AS YOU SEE....

By the end of the day, I am disappointed in George, not really the TV show, which is even more sadder. I think he wrote a very beautiful story, but his ending is taking away all my joy for those characters and this novel. I know he wanted avoid the expected and subvert the expectations, but he is shooting his own story in their foot. And its braking my heart.

What terrible way to end such fascinating tale...

“[Bran] will be a good ruler bc he’s inhuman - which is a very depressing message. GoT was always about the struggle between human good & human evil w/in each person. Bran being king suggests that the solution to human evil isn’t human good, it’s being not human.”  

ALT SHIFT X described in great words, how I felt about this ending, and you could sense his disappointment in the final message of this story too. It's was an extremely nihlistic ending. Westeros hasn't changed in facts it's worse politically. 

A SONG OF ICE ANF FIRE VS LORD OF THE RINGS....

Now, lets compare this to LORD OF THE RINGS ending, who also got a bittersweet ending. Remember, George RRM is always comparing those stories and believes he is having a conversation to Tolkien. 

Honest to God, in comparison LOTR looks like a Disney movie. It has a beautiful coronation ceremony, humanity came together to save the world from evil, and THEY TRIUMPHED!!!! There is JOY, LOVE, HOPE. Aragorn is King of the Reunited Kingdom, the people love and admire him (can we say the same about King Bran?) . 

He marries his childhood love, Arwen and produce an heir. This brings hope and a sense of future for the reader. This story is uplifting, its inspiring, its quite frankly, a good story. 

Its impossible not feel good about this story and the ending is one of the reasons this story has touched so many people, from all over the world and has remained a classic. Because, the tale of humanity coming together to defeat the evil is a theme that its always occurring in our life times. This is something that Tolkien experienced personally, having to fight in the WWII.

The nazis were defeated because several countries, put aside their differences and fought for the good of humanity and yes, it is possible. And after WWII we actually managed to achieve a lot of humans rights for several people who were considered less in the early century. 

In GOT there was no joy or celebration, no weddings to form new alliances; to make peace; no births to bring new heirs, to bring a hope for the future. In fact, most wedding in the show were always associated with death and pain. Death and pain, yes, there was a lot of death and pain in ASOAIF. Thats all it has to offer the reader and viewer? Death, pain and misery??

I understand that George wanted to do the different and not give what the reader really wanted. But I have to be honest to you, in my opinion, this was a unfulfilling, uninspiring, unpleasant story. I said a few times, i have no desire to re read those long books. This story brought me no joy. And I understand that, stories are not obliged to bring us joy, but, they are supposed to make sense. And, I just dont think the ending made a lot of sense for those who read the books. Hey, maybe that was our mistake. Hee

What sad story :/

[lostinaseaoffictionalbliss]

Littlest Stark And Lannister

Summary: Both you and Tryion are looked down upon because of your size and you find comfort in one another as well as love

Pairing: Tyrion x Reader

Warnings: Smut, vag penetration, first time, fingering

You are the younger sibling of Brandon, Eddard, Benjen, and Lyanna. Not only are you the youngest you are also the smallest at 5 foot. This never bothered you or anyone else in your family. It did however make it difficult to find you a husband. Most felt your small stature meant that you wouldn't be able to bare children and continue there line. You couldn't careless what they thought as it meant you got to stay in Winterfell with your family. You loved your brother Ned, his wife Catelyn, and all their children. You especially felt close to Jon seeing as you were both looked down on. However you did long for a love of your own.

"When are you going to marry, aunt Y/N?" Jon asked one day as you walked through the Godswood. "When a man sees me for who I am and not my size," you replied. Jon gave you a small smile and hugged you. "I'm sure you'll find someone someday," he reassured you. You doubted he was right, but you weren't going to tell him that. When you returned to Winterfell you began getting ready for the feast that your family was throwing in honor of the king that night. You didn't really want to go and deal with the royal family, but you had no choice.

People laughed and danced around you getting louder the more they drank. The king was fondling a maid making himself look a fool, but no one dare tell him that. Oh how you wished you were in your room or the library reading a book. You decided you were tired of the festivities and walked outside to join Jon. You hated that Catelyn wouldn't let him attend just because of his title of bastard. When you walked outside you heard a voice say, "Never forgot what you are, the rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor and it can never be used to hurt you." It was sound advice and you wondered who had given it. "And what do you know about being a bastard?" Jon asked. You walked closer and saw Tyrion, the youngest and smallest of the Lannisters, was who had spoken.

"All dwarfs are bastards in their father's eyes," he replied. A frown found its way to your face at his words. "Well then maybe your father is the true bastard. No one should be looked down upon because of their size or who their parents are," you said catching both their attention. "Right you are lady Y/N. Unfortunately that is not the way of the world," Tyrion told you before he walked away. His mismatched eyes had been seared into your mind and you had the odd desire to run your hands through his blonde locks. "Aunt Y/N?" Jon questioned when you continued to stare at the place Tyrion had disappeared from.

"It's nothing don't worry about it," you told him. A few moments later your brother Benjen arrived. You left so that he and Jon could talk, rejoining the feast. You spotted Tyrion and made a beeline for him. "Lord Tyrion is it okay if I sit here?" You asked. "Of course my dear," he replied. The two of you spent the rest of the feast talking and drinking. It was nice to have someone around whom you could have an intelligent conversation with. You didn't get that much anymore due to your brother and goodsister being busy, the older children at lessons and the younger too young to understand. Tyrion escorted you back to your chambers after the feast and bid you goodnight.

The following day everyone was to go on a hunt, Tyrion included, but you convinced the king to let him stay behind. After getting him something for his hangover you brought him to the library. "I love it in here. There's just so much you can learn. And I can escape reality if only for a time," you said sitting in one of the chairs with your favorite book in hand. "And pray-tell why would a beautiful lady such as yourself need to escape reality?" He asked. Your grey eyes met his mismatched ones as you let out a sigh before looking down. "While I appreciate the compliment Lord Tyrion I know it's not true. No man wants me because of how little I am," you explained.

Tyrion walked toward you, took your hand in his, and used his other to lift your head. "You maybe small, but you are still a beautiful woman. And you deserve to be told that everyday," he said looking you directly in the eyes. A small smile graced your lips as a few tears pooled in the corner of your eyes. "You mean that?" You asked. Tyrion nodded his head smiling at you. You weren't sure what came over you, but in the next moment your lips were pressed against his. For a moment he didn't kiss back and you pulled away to apologize, but he grabbed the back of your head and pulled you in for a more passionate kiss.

When he finally pulled away you were worried you had done something wrong; having no prior experience. "What do you say we take this to your chambers?" Tyrion asked. A blush tinged your cheeks at the suggestion. "I-I've never...um...you see...I've never...that is to say you were my first kiss," you stuttered out. Tyrion's eyebrows rose to his hairline in surprise. "Then I can say I'm glad to be the first. If you don't want this say the word. I won't make you do something you don't want," he told you. You bit your bottom lip in concentration. Was this something you wanted? You found Tyrion to be very attractive that was true, but you had never been with a man. Would it be as painful as you had heard or would he make sure you enjoyed it as well? Thoughts rolled around in your head a moment longer before you came to a decision. "I want this. Let's go to my chambers," you replied.

Tyrion took your hand squeezing it gently as you walked to your room. Once in there you sat on your bed and began nervously fiddling with the strings to your dress. "Here let me," he told you untying them. You stood allowing your dress to pool at your feet leaving you in just a slip and your shoes that you readily removed. Tyrion sucked in a breath just staring at you. You began to feel self conscious and covered your breasts and sex with your arm and hand. He walked over and moved your hand placing a kiss on your hip bone. "You're the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. And I'm making it my life's mission to prove it to you," he said.

He start placing kisses on you trailing from one hip to the other. Your heart rate picked up when he led you back to the bed and had you lie down. This was all new to you and you didn't know what to expect making you even more excited. Tyrion climbed up the bed and began kissing you once again this time pushing his tongue against your lips. You opened your mouth and allowed him access. His tongue rubbed against yours slowly. It seemed as if he was trying to memorize the way you felt and tasted. His right hand held your face as his left slowly trailed from your collarbone to your breast. He palmed it, drawing small circles with his thumb before he took your nipple rolling it between his fingers. Your body felt hot and tingled everywhere he touched.

After a few moments of teasing one breast he began teasing the other as well as breaking your kiss so he could lavish your neck and collarbones in kisses. Tyrion sat up to remove his tunic, breeches, and boots allowing you to admire his body. When your eyes landed on his cock they widened in surprise. He was well endowed for someone of his stature and you wondered how it would fit. "Don't fret, Y/N. I promise it will fit," he said as if he had read your mind. He once again placed kisses on your neck and collarbones, but this time he trailed down until he reached your right breast. He took your nipple in his mouth while his hand caressed your sides, stomach, and thighs.

He was trying to show you how much he appreciated your body. The feel of his mouth on your breast while foreign felt remarkable. You could feel warmth pooling between your legs and tightness forming in the pit of your stomach. Tyrion released your nipple, trailed kisses to your other breast taking that nipple in his mouth. His right hand rubbed your inner thigh slowly moving closer to your sex. You bucked your hips hoping for some kind of friction and he obliged. His fingers ran up and down your folds a few times before his thumb found your clit and he began rubbing it softly.

You whimpered in pleasure as you ran your hands through his hair. "Please," you begged even if you weren't sure what you were begging for. Tyrion slid one finger in you causing you to arch off the bed. He slowly slid it in and out of you before adding a second. You let out a moan feeling the tightness in your belly wind itself tighter. He curled his fingers allowing him to hit your g-spot as well as rub your clit. It became your undoing. You gripped the bed-sheets right as warmth washed over your body causing you to tense and quiver. "That was amazing," You panted coming down.

"That's only the beginning," Tyrion told you before pressing his lips to yours. He lined his cock up with your entrance and slowly pushed in. When he reached your maidenhead he paused and looked in your eyes. "I'm sorry love, but this will hurt a bit," he told you. You nodded letting him know you understood and that he could push forward. Once he did you felt a tearing sensation causing your face to scrunch up in pain as a single tear rolled down your cheek. Tyrion kissed the tear away and stayed still until you were ready for him to move again.

His thrusts were slow and easy as he didn't want to hurt you. When the pain fully subsided and pleasure began to build you wrapped your arms around his shoulder and bucked your hips meeting him thrust for thrust. His thrusts began to speed up the closer he got to release so he brought his hand between you wanting you to cum again before he did. This time when your orgasm washed over you, you clung to him tightly, back arched, moaning as your walls clenched around him. Tyrion thrusted a few more times before cumming inside you.  He then allowed himself to lay on you seeing as his weight wasn't enough to hurt. "I hope that was as good for you as it was me my dear," he said. You let out a chuckle before placing a kiss on his forehead. "It was better than I ever imagined," you replied before you both drifted to sleep.

When Tyrion left for the wall you opted to stay behind for your own safety. His return to Winterfell had you ecstatic even if your eldest nephew, Robb, was not. While you knew the Lannisters had played a part in Bran's fall and attempted assassination you also knew Tyrion had nothing to do with it. You left Winterfell with him on his journey to King's Landing. You had even attempted to stop Catelyn from taking him prisoner. When the two of you had left the Eyrie and joined his father's army he asked for your hand in marriage. You readily agreed seeing as you loved him like you had never loved someone before. His father, Tywin, had approved the match hoping it would help stop the war. While it hadn't you were still glad to be married to the love of your life. You couldn't wait to see what adventures awaited you.

[thecloserkin]

fic rec: Are You Mine? and I Want Some More by PoetHrotsvitha

fandom: Assassin’s Creed: Syndicate

pairing: Evie Frye/Jacob Frye

word count: 54k and 50k respectively (one is a direct sequel to the other)

Is it canon: yes

Is it explicit: this is the most explicit material i have thus far reviewed on this blog

Is it endgame: yesssss

Is it shippable: yes

One thing you guys should know about me is I don’t read a great deal of smut. I don’t actively avoid it either, and I for sure consume more smut in the context of fanfic than in professional published fiction because I feel the following quote in my bones: “It wasn’t that friendship needed to be sexualized, it was that erotica needed to be … friendship-ized.” So when I stumbled on this fic that is 80% smut stretched over the thinnest pretext of plot, based on source material I have zero familiarity with, what did I do but fall headlong for this pairing and this story. Bless you, anon who brought Fryecest to my attention, and praise the Lord for modern AUs where knowledge of canon is not mandatory.

Jacob and Evie Frye are twins born into an Assassin family and raised by their exacting taskmaster of a father to take down the Templars. There’s no Templars or Assassins in this modern AU of course, just Evie’s looming A-Levels and their absent academic of a father. Evie’s still the golden child, of course—she’ll follow in their father’s footsteps and get her Ph.D. Jacob is the problem child. He’s already fallen in with the Wrong Crowd, he’s impulsive, he drinks and gambles and mostly solves problems with his fists. His relationship with their dad is hella strained. And because this is supposed to be PWP the author wastes no time in ratcheting the sexual tension up to 11 by having Jacob pick Evie up from her posh school on his MOTORCYCLE, each of them pretending not to be so turned on they could have combusted from desire by the end of the ride. Cool cool cool.

Their relationship begins barreling in a dom/sub direction almost from the word go. Evie is one thousand percent the take-charge, Type-A personality, so the idea is that she needs to relinquish that control in the bedroom, and Jacob is the only one she trusts to dominate her. Because they’re twins and they balance each other out adfkdfkdfjdkfd. The scene in the beginning where Jacob tells her not to button up her blouse while she’s making breakfast, and she actually listens to him instead of ignoring or insulting him, holy shit that was hot. It starts so small but eventually he’s got her wearing a wireless vibrator to class and begging for her “punishment” when she takes it out without his permission because it was too distracting.

I imagine this is what the 50 Shades of Grey phenomenon was about. I haven’t read 50 Shades of Grey myself, but I’ve interacted with people who rave about it and clearly got something out of those books, bad as they were. I’m not trying to compare the quality of this story to 50 Shades of Grey—it’s lightyears superior to that dreck—just that when I finished this fic I had the dazed realization that this was why people read smut.

There’s a throwaway line in Jacob’s internal monologue where he muses “they seem to be going about this backwards,” because he’s buying flowers for her the day after fingering her to a screaming orgasm, and yes I am 100% here for this trope. Ffs he sits with her in the library to keep her company while she studies! He waits for her/escorts her to her one hundred and one extracurricular activities! He’s a really immature 17-year-old and he’d never dream of doing this for anyone else, but when it comes to Evie he becomes suddenly sweet and thoughtful and solicitous. He’s constantly pausing in the middle of sex to ask for her enthusiastic & affirmative consent and reminding her to use the safe word. At the same time he’s madly jealous when anyone else shows a flicker of interest in her and he regularly makes her admit he “owns” her during their role-play. They are each other’s firsts which for some reason is really important to me in these kinds of they’re-teenagers-exploring-their-sexuality setups. This is Evie hitting up the lingerie boutique in preparation for their FIRST WEEKEND GETAWAY:

“I’m going away for the weekend with my-” Evie almost stumbled on the word, “-boyfriend.” What a strange concept.

I AM TRASH FOR THIS INCEST TROPE i love the way she stumbles over that word. Bc that’s not the box that Jacob occupies for her, is it? He’s much more than that. I love the way she alternates between begging him to put it in her cunt and calling him a prat and a shitheel; just because he’s the love of her life doesn’t make him stop being her insufferable little brother. You know what else I’m trash for? ALL the sneaking around tropes. One time while sexting with him in a storage closet at school she’s busted by one of the teachers and only barely has time to lock her phone before he confiscates it.

So the first fic ends with their dad finding the sexts and nudes on Evie’s phone, disowning them both, and Evie choosing to go to University of Edinburgh because their dad knows too many people at Oxbridge. The twins get a flat together and it’s happily ever after. Except no! In the sequel it’s ten years later and Evie and Jacob have returned to the house they grew up in to say goodbye to their dying father, and they’re ESTRANGED OH NO WHAT HAPPENED. Evie has a four-year-old in tow. We find out in fairly short order that the kid is Jacob’s, but Jacob doesn’t find out the truth until we’ve sent him through the angst wringer. The fic is about how they grieve and reconcile and how Jacob learns to parent, and this one is actually like 60% plot and I think I like it even better than the first one. This author’s note really spoke to me:

I’ve read a fair number of sibling incest modern AU fics in a few different fandoms and they all tend to end at “and then they ran away from their families and lived happily ever after/epilogue of sexy fun times possibly with the introduction of hey they've had a kid!”. And I mean I love that, don't get me wrong. But I guess I’m also weirdly preoccupied with the part about what comes after that, because it always seemed far too dreadfully simple an outcome. Normal relationships are rarely that easy, so why would these be? Then again I'm probably putting too much thought into a porn fic, LOL.

DEAR @poethrotsvitha, THIS IS A SIGNED PETITION TO PLEASE NEVER STOP OVERTHINKING THE PLOT OF YOUR PORN FICS. Like, nobody starts fucking their brother unless they really mean it, because the risk of the relationship going pear-shaped and the two of you still being stuck in each other’s orbit because there’s no “breaking up” with family? That’s a big risk. And also why incest pairings feel so high-stakes and I am trash for them, obvs. One of the reasons the dom/sub dynamic is so integral to their relationship was because Evie had a tendency to dictate to Jacob what he “can and can’t do,” and he understandably chafed against it sometimes. It’s what led to their breakup five years ago. And so him taking charge in the bedroom is a kind of counterbalance, and there’s a scene in this fic where she lets him role-play a noncon situation as a way to partly soothe his jealousy.

To a large extent it’s their son who brings about their reconciliation, but their son is also a hyperactive little git who throws a monkey wrench in their sex life, so now instead of hiding their relationship from their dad they’re tiptoeing around a four-year-old. And the big character development that happens on Jacob’s part is him recognizing that Thomas is Evie’s #1 priority now, and there comes a moment where he has to make a difficult decision to prioritize the two of them in his own life, too (by quitting his job and ending a toxic relationship). The other thing I really liked was how Jacob thinks ruefully he could have gone a another round if he were ten years younger, which he’s not, but Evie seems satisfied and that’s what matters. The recognition that he’s not a teenager anymore, and doesn’t have the stamina of one, but he’s also more mature and this time he’ll be able to give Evie what she needs? Oh, my heart. Like I said I loved them being each other’s firsts as teenagers but this, this second chance they’ve got as adults, this is beautiful.

Ok so this is Evie begging Jacob to fuck her in a closet in the middle of their dad’s funeral service??!:

“Please, I just need to forget. Just for a little bit- I need to forget, please-” Oh, God, this was a terrible idea. A terrible idea that she would die before she stopped- she felt like an addict after years of sobriety, pushed by stress and grief to needing that all-consuming high that she'd never quite been able to forget. Her fingers worked at his belt, pulling it open, unbuttoning his trousers to draw the heel of her palm along where he was already hard. “Evie,” he rasped, shuddering against her touch. “Shh,” she said, tucking his pants down enough to pull his cock free, giving it a few firm strokes. “Shh.” If they talked, it would be too real. It had to be rushed and frantic, to feel like it was just the once, to ease the ache in her chest.

And this is after they finish (“if only it could have lasted forever”):

Silently, she turned to let him zip up her dress … There was a warmth against the back of her neck as she felt him draw her hair aside and press a kiss to the sensitive skin, hesitant and uncertain.  "Thank you," she breathed into the darkness, listening to the click of his belt as it slid back into place.  He just sighed, leaning his forehead against her shoulder, saying a million things without speaking a word. 

LEANING HIS FOREHEAD FOR A MILLISECOND AGAINST HER SHOULDER OMFG I AM DECEASED

Ok so to return an earlier point: When you want a canon incest happy ending in a modern setting (as opposed to if you’re both Targaryens) the most popular option is run away and live as an unrelated couple, which necessitates cutting ties with everyone you’ve ever known. This may be more or less difficult depending on the quantity and quality of those ties; unless this is Flowers in the Attic and you’ve literally been locked in the attic for years there’s bound to be people you care about other than your sibling so this is a monumental ask. The Fryes choose option B, “living openly as siblings and keeping the incest on the dl”. This option is not without risk, of course, since exposure is always a possibility, and Evie has to put up with the other moms at Thomas’s preschool eyeing Jacob like a piece of meat. Still, it means Thomas gets to bake cookies with his grandmother, who would not have let Evie and Jacob back in her life if they flaunted the truth. I mean, it’s not that she doesn’t know her kids are fucking, it’s just that a don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy allows everyone’s relationships to remain intact:

She seemed to be struggling to get the words out. “Is Thomas…” There were a few ways that this question could go, as far as Jacob could see, and he didn’t particularly want to deal with any of them. He leaned against the counter, palms rigid against the cold surface. “I’m really tired, Mother.” “I know. I just…” There was a terrible pause. “Are— are you and Evie…” Still facing the toaster, Jacob closed his eyes. He couldn’t muster a lot of fake outrage, but he planned to deny everything anyway. He didn’t care about how plausible it was. It was easier for everyone that way, especially Mother. Before he could open his mouth, though, Mother’s chair scraped back. “Actually, never mind. It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Every Wednesday Evie (who’s moved back in with her mom) leaves Thomas with his grandma and goes to “book club” which is really date night at Jacob’s. And the two of them get right up to their old tricks:

When he gave her just the slightest nudge upwards with his hips, she finally let a broken whisper rasp out. “I can't- I want- please-” Jacob clicked his tongue. “You know what I want you to say.” She twisted her neck around again, and he could see that her eyes were now glassy with longing. “Huh?” “It's simple— just ‘My greedy cunt belongs to my brother’. “ “I will not."

The process of turning that initial “no” into a “yes” is scorchingly hot so there you go, I love these two, I love this fic, I have definitely seen the light and I'm ready to embrace smut.

[sclfmastery]

//So I decided today to face my “demons” as it were and watch The Doctor Falls straight through to the end.  This is directly because a conversation I had with @forgediinfire last night made me feel I have a suppport system of Doctors, Thirteen and otherwise, who can provide a way to cope with the incredible pain that canon has caused. 

I have a bunch of new insights as a result of watching, and I’m pleased to say that with the time that’s elapsed since June, I’m somehow finding this episode less horrible than I did originally. That’s not to say I don’t still find the Masters killing each other to be any less OOC and problematic, but I found ways to scavenge the good bits. That’s the trick with Moffat’s writing. It’s not ALL bad, it’s just the parts that are bad are HORRIBLE, so sometimes you have to step away and process before you can absorb the good bits.  

So, thoughts/ideas, in no particular order: --Still love the Missy/Master dynamic with all my heart.  

--I love how when they were dancing on the roof, Missy says, “Oh, am I a woman now?” and the Master says “Well kinda.” It implies the whole Time Lord genderfluid/nonbinary/agender concept.  

-- “I’m not begging you; I’d rather die than beg you.” Boy howdy do I have a long-ass meta in store for this. And yes I do think this is very ic of SIMM Master in particular.  Powerfully reminiscent of the events on the Valiant.   For now. *wiggles eyebrows*  --I love the line where the Doctor refers to awful filthy things being inevitable and includes Donald Trump.  Well done there, Moffat. I am not a fan of yours but I salute your courage there.  

--Never is it mentioned that the Master immediately left Gallifrey’s Timelock, which means that it’s indeed free reign territory over what exactly happened before the “mutual kicking out.” And I refuse to believe that a Gallifrey run by Rassilon at his cruelest and craziest would allow the Master to be healed without him paying a steep price indeed. Insert all my headcanons about him being tortured and isolated for a time equivalent to the Doctor’s confession dial, which directly explains his backslide in character development from End of Time.   Since as a writer, I can’t blame an intentional retcon for the inconsistency in his characterization.  --I didn’t realize the Master “taking over and living like a king then being overthrown and hiding out”  refers to MONDAS, not Gallifrey, but then that is really interesting.  It poses the question of how much he was involved in the creation of the Mondasian cybermen. It looks like, just like with the Toclafane, he didn’t CAUSE the horrible thing, but he USED IT AS AN OPPORTUNITY to do ADDITIONAL horrible things (build a city with factories of cybermen who convert more and more people to cybermen).  So I’m gonna say he was the temporary mayor of the city then finally a group of insurgents overthrew and attempted to assassinate him, leading to the Mr. Razor disguise.  I’m gonna say right now, this is a hard thing to process, though it IS in keeping with his characterization.  I personally think it’s the worst thing he’s ever done and that for this reason alone, he does not deserve to live.  Which leads me to this: in order to continue to play this character, I absolutely have to get him started on a redemption arc. Thank God we’ve seen Missy capable of remorse in canon, so it’s my goal to see the Master go down the same path, voluntarily, with help from someone with a moral compass (like he himself used to have).  I would like to ask @canspotatimeagent @onlyxsurvivor and @forgediinfire directly to be candidates for helping him learn the magnitude of his crimes, and atone, but in his own way.   To Ashley, I think it’s worth noting that Jack, through Ianto, knows exactly how excruciating conversion to a cyberman is, and that might pose a new challenge for Jack and Koschei’s relationship.   --The Doctor comments that the Master is an even worse driver than he is.  Not sure I agree with that but it’s an endearing idea.  

--Characteristics of Simm Master that were carried through to Moffat’s writing correctly: glibness and verbal precocity; indignation; impatience.  

--They spent TWO WEEKS on Mondas on a “holographic level”? TWO WEEKS? I had no idea. My GOD, the potential for rp threads!!!!  COME AT ME PEOPLE. 

--The Doctor is really good with kids.  “You’re being kind. Nothin wrong with kind.” 

--The way Bill’s victimization is framed, as her being herself on the inside but only outwardly reflected to others as a cyberman, makes me wish with all my heart that the Master hadn’t sacrificed her just to get at the Doctor again. How fucking much collateral between them does there have to be?  He should get on his knees and beg her forgiveness. He should undergo a similar process. He should suffer.  I’m going to make him suffer.  People who love this character might want to look away for a few weeks because I’m having trouble not killing him off altogether. 

--Except. “People are always going to be afaid of me, aren’t they?”  Look me in the eye and tell me that’s not something the Master realized as a kid.   And learned to turn from something nefarious into a badge of honor. And now wears like Herakles’s lion’s pelt. “Look at me, I’m invincible. Don’t touch me.”   So here I am, right back to loving a monster.

--”Kill it kill it kill it kill it kill it!” we heard you the first time dear.

-- “Turning into a woman is one thing but have you got empathy now?” Woo that hurt me to the soul.   --The line about “is the future going to be all girl” is glaringly out of place and pointless and still makes me furious. I reject it wholesale. 

--Nardole is surprisingly non annoying.

--Why is the Master so sulky putting on his eyeliner? When Missy calls him “dearest” and asks him where their TARDIS is and he just goes “Well I suppose,” looking out the window, he seems more sad than afraid. Can’t get a read on that yet.

--The Doctor is right.  His speech is so good. And so true. 

In all honesty, this was really hard to watch.  I feel sick.  I wish I’d never discovered this character, but now that I have, I don’t know how to abandon him. So here we are. Time to do the really excruciating work. 

“See this face? This is the face of someone who didn’t listen to a word you just said.”  With that line Moffat declares that this character is past saving, and only Missy, HIS version of the Master, is not. 

Sometimes I believe him.  

Sometimes my dash, my mutuals, the fandom at large, everyone, makes me believe him.

But I’m gonna try not to. I’m gonna try. Why? 

“Hey, you know, maybe there’s no point in any of this at all, but it’s the best I can do.  So I’m going to stand here doing it until it kills me.  Why not, just at the end, just be kind?” 

That’s why I write this character. That’s why. 

[imagineclaireandjamie]

A Hundred Lesser Faces: (Five)

Notes from Mod Bonnie

This story stems from the premise: what if Voyager!Claire had gone first to Lallybroch instead of directly to the print shop in Edinburgh?

Links to past installments:  (One) (Two) (Three) (Four)

My own Jamie,

Almost six months ago, I learned that you survived Culloden. You made history, my darling! Q.E.D.

As many nights as I’ve lain awake in those months cursing myself for not having looked sooner, I know I shall thank God every day of my life for the series of events that led me at last to the right pages, to you. When I fully realized what it meant— that you had been spared the death you faced so bravely that April morning, the death that has haunted my thoughts and my nightmares for so long— It was like a wound, the oldest and deepest scar ripped back open, inch by inch. I was completely laid bare from it, from the storm of emotions warring within me: such joy, such anguish for the lost time (how many more years could we have had, Jamie, had I looked?), such fear—and then joy again, because the years of grief could now be ended, and *against all reason!* I could see you again.  

Likewise will I thank God every day for the small voice in my head that nudged me at the very last moment to go first to Lallybroch, rather than to your shop in Edinburgh. Please thank Jenny for me. She explained everything. 

It is for the best, that it happened this way; easier, I think, for all concerned. Perversely, despite the shock, I find myself smiling in this moment: for we promised there would be no lies between us, remember? It is a promise I make to you again, today. You can know, then, with absolute certainty, that it can be no lie when I tell you that I am glad — glad and on-my-knees grateful to Heaven— that you have found true happiness. 

After all the pain and the loss, the war and the hunger and the suffering you’ve endured, to know that you have a wife with whom you’ve found something new and wonderful; that you have had the joy of holding your own children in your arms, to have seen them be born and grow? It is a balm, Jamie, a comfort to know that despite all the cruelty fate has dealt you—dealt us— you have been blessed with such great and abundant joy. Never would I wish anything less for you, just as I know you would not for me. 

It is my deepest prayer that as you read these words, you will know the truth of them, will be able to feel my heart through the page, and KNOW that from its very depths, I wish you every happiness with your wife and your daughters. 

And yet I couldn’t leave, couldn’t go back from whence I came, without telling you about another little girl, who was born the 23rd of November the year of Culloden. 

I hope the contents of the brown packet, here enclosed, tell you more than any words could about your daughter—our daughter—Brianna Ellen.

Jamie was shaking—no, he was — crumbling. 

Every breath wrenched through him, agonizing, and the tears were falling, blurring his vision. He had to sit back on his haunches to keep them from dropping onto the page and blurring her precious words. 

Her words

CLAIRE’s

His hands were quaking with

November

with EVERYTHING

Jesus, GOD in 

Couldn’t

He COULD NOT think

Thoughts, words, they were—

They failed him, simply abandoned him as he shook on the study rug. Only his body seemed to know the way, for he was snatching for the parcel, tearing at the string binding the paper. There was an oily, unidentifiable wrapping within, then a layer of soft flannel, and then —   

The sound that escaped him—He didn’t even know there existed such a sound within him. It was terrible and beautiful at once, and though it was in no language, what he felt, his lips over and over formed a word, the only word he could muster: “No….NO….” 

For as though a great knife had cut through those terrible, looming stones on the accursed hill, Jamie held his infant daughter, newly-born, sleeping there in the palms of his hands. The portrait—picture?—painting?—was all in shades of grey, and yet somehow lifelike as a true bairn in miniature before him, like peering through a spyglass straight into that distant life.

He had not a single thought to spare for how, or by what means…

He could only trace the bitty wee fists curled on the blanket, the sweet wisps of hair on the tiny skull.

“Oh, mo chridhe…” 

He couldn’t look away, could not even blink, though tears were coursing downward. 

God, the child —this very child — 

—delivered safely into the world and into the arms of her mother—her mother.…

The babe had lived—LIVED.

The pad of his thumb caught slightly as he caressed her cheek, and the portrait slid upward just enough to reveal — “Ohh…Jesus…”

She was grown to a toddling child, eating a cake that was smeared all about her face. And damn him if he didn’t LAUGH amidst the weeping to see just how pleased with herself she looked for it, a cuddly toy raised in triumph like a sword, four wee teeth visible as she giggled out a victory cry.

There she was again, older, standing in a great snowfall, naught but wee cheeks and grinning eyes visible under the great padded suit she wore against the cold. 

Older, still. Three? Four? Sitting proper-like in a pretty frock with her hair combed smooth. 

Such a sweet face—

Older, still, standing with a wee box in her hand beside a giant something with wheels, proud and eager, eyes bright.

And then he was gasping as the spyglass world ignited into blazing, brilliant colors. He saw his daughter’s hair, red and victorious and shining against the black coat of the huge dog she hugged tight; saw the pink flush of her cheeks, spread down her neck as it always did his, when he was happy and exuberant.

On and on flashed the paintings, these captured moments of his daughter’s life.

Going fishing and doing a damn fine job of it. 

Playing uproariously in the sea-surf, splashing and laughing with complete abandon.

Absolutely lovely as as she grew out of girlhood, and God, how vividly he could see Claire in her, as she did—in the lines of her, the way she held her mouth, tilted her head—that broad, clear brow that begged to be kissed, reverently—

Laughing, carefree, safe. 

Braw and strong as she chopped wood. Good lass!

Gazing softly out a window, seeming not even to notice her image being captured. 

On 

and on

and on 

until he was gasping and looking at the last portrait, of an achingly beautiful young woman sitting on a rock before a fire, making camp for the night, perhaps. Her face was cast in the same golds and red as her hair; the dreams of her heart seeming to dance across her eyes—as they always did her mother’s. His daughter…grown.  

The paintings were strewn all around him on the carpet, a tableau of her; her life. On his knees he bowed over them, overwhelmed and shuddering with great sobs as he looked, and looked, and looked.

She was—

She would be—

…..she was well.  

The child HAD been safe.

It hadn’t been for naught. 

He fell, then, and sheltered her like a cloak, keeping his child, his daughter, safe and shielded from the world for just one moment; safe…his….

Brianna

It was only sudden, ripping, screaming panic that yanked him out of the quiet calm, searching wildly, fumbling with desperate hands—

But relief tore from his throat just as suddenly as he found a second page: 

Not everything can be captured in a photograph, of course (that’s what they’re called. Did I ever tell you about them?), and there’s so much I long to tell you about this wonderful person.

Will you believe she’s been taller than me since the age of thirteen? She carries it like a queen, though, like I imagine your mother did. She doesn’t slouch or try to hide. Not Bree. 

Oh, yes: most people call her Bree, for short. 

She bites her nails, when she’s thinking hard. I don’t even think she notices when she’s doing it.

She’s absolutely brilliant, Jamie, studying at one of the top universities in the world to be a historian. You would be so very proud of her. 

She’s not perfect, of course. Perhaps her biggest flaw as half-Scottish is that she HATES whisky, haha. I’ll do my best to win her over, though, don’t you worry. 

She’s a spectacular artist, another way in which she takes after her grandmother. She captures you, completely. 

That statement, actually, is true in more ways than one. Our Brianna is captivating, in every way. 

She’s an absolute wonder with maths and figures —as natural to her as breathing, it seems, just like they are for you. 

She smiles in her sleep, just like her father. 

She’s so like you, Jamie, it breaks my heart. 

After Frank died—But Lord, I haven’t said anything of him. 

It was two years ago. He had a good, full life, and he loved Bree more than anything in the world. He could have been cruel, could have taken out his anger upon the child, the very breathing manifestation of the ways in which I’d betrayed him—but he didn’t. From the moment he first held her, Frank loved her as his own, and while things between he and I were tenuous, to say the least, I will always love him for the father he was to her, for the sacrifices he made for her. I hope that is a comfort to you, and not a blow. 

After he was gone, after giving her time to grieve, it felt important that Bree should know about you, about the stones. It took—well, it frankly took a bloody lot of luck and a jolly good miracle to get her to believe, *but she does.* She loved Frank with all her heart, but she knows now that Jamie Fraser was her father. IS her father. 

You should know that she was instrumental in finding you. She persisted when I would have faltered under the doubts and the fears. As ecstatic and overjoyed as I was at the news that you were alive, I was so afraid Jamie, for you, for me, for Bree. 

Even though I know she, too, was plagued with fears, she remained strong; and she kept ME strong. Even at the very stones, when I was so wracked with guilt over leaving her forever that I would have stayed, for her sake, she was there to strengthen me, to tell me not to look back. She said that she was giving me back to you, and that if I didn’t go, *she* would. ‘Someone has to find him and tell him I was born,’ she said, and she meant it. 

THAT is the kind of person your daughter is growing to be, Jamie: determined, and brilliant, and selfless for the sake of those she loves; *and that includes you.* She asked me to give you a kiss, just from her. I’ve left it here, on the page, for you to keep, always. 

Brianna has been the greatest joy of my life since we parted, a joy that would have been richer only if I had been granted the grace to raise her with you at my side. Thank you for her. THANK YOU for making me go on, for her sake. Despite everything, it has been a good life. Even in those long years of grief, I had the joy of seeing you every day, of seeing your spirit, there in the child of our love. And I’m so very grateful. 

I’ll keep telling her about you. There wasn’t enough time, before I left. She’ll be able hear everything, now. I promise. 

Jamie shook his head hard, fast, feeling for a third page that wasn’t there. “No…” 

Be happy, Jamie Fraser, and LIVE. 

“No,” he moaned. his eyes clinging to the fleeting words, even as he begged them not to stop. “Claire…”

Love, always, 

“Mo nighean donn, don’t —  

Claire

Those next seconds were everlasting, each terrible, catastrophic truth echoing in his soul like the toll of a great bell, over and over. 

She had been here

Claire had been here

She left

Claire left

Because Jenny—

She was sitting at the bottom of the staircase, crying hard into Ian’s shoulder. When the study door crashed open, her head shot up and she jumped to her feet, her face pure terror. “Jamie, mo ch—”

“When?” He snarled it, and Jenny convulsed with a deep sob like a swallowed scream, and covered her face with her hands. 

Jamie was thundering toward her, a veil of red over his vision as he demanded, “WHEN?” 

Ian—in a shockingly deft and smooth movement given the leg—shot to his feet, shielding Jenny from Jamie’s rage with his body. 

In all truth, the rational parts of Jamie’s mind were glad for Ian’s presence, for that was the only thing keeping the blood rage from taking control, from taking revenge. “WHEN was she here, woman?” he bellowed over Ian’s shoulder,  “How fucking long did ye see fit to keep—”

Ian shoved him, eyes blazing. “You’ll NOT talk that way to—” 

“Mor—ning—”Jenny sobbed, her voice a strangled whisper, “—gone before—Jamie! Oh, Jamie, I ken I’ll—never for—give mys—for—” 

“HOW MANY MONTHS?”  he roared, overtaken by despair, overtaken by rage, becoming a nameless beast under it. “HOW MANY YEARS, JENNY?” 

“This morning—” she wailed, “To—TO—DAY—” 

Nothing. 

Silence. 

And then a great wave, tall as a mountain, rose up within Jamie, blasting out everything within him in a single cataclysmic moment of clarity. 

Today

T O D A Y

Then she was—

She could be no more than—

He vaulted up the stairs four at a time, paying no heed to Janet and Wee Ian and the others who were gathered at the top of the staircase, wide-eyed and pale and gaping.

Less than a minute later, he thundered back down past them all, breeks only half-laced under his boots, traveling bag on his back. 

“No,” Jenny moaned, grasping at his sleeve as he passed and trying to hold him back. “Jamie, ye canna—Ye CANNA catch her, she's—GONE—she’s—”

He shook her off, hard enough to knock her off-balance, and ran to the kitchen, shoving what food he could lay his hands on into his sack and moving straight to the door, so crazed with determination he could barely see what it was he took. Food didn’t matter. Fatigue, already tugging at him, didn’t matter. Claire was— 

“Jamie, she’s nearly a day ahead—” Jenny caught the handle just as he did, eyes absolutely wild. “Ye dinna even ken where she’s bound or—” 

He spared his sister one look, and let all the hate and contempt, the rage and the betrayal show there as he growled, “I ken precisely where she’s bound.” 

[chasingthecosmos]

By Any Other Name

Fandom: Doctor Who Rating: T Pairing: The Doctor/Rose Tyler, Eleventh Doctor/Rose Tyler (The Doctor/Clara Oswald, Eleventh Doctor/Clara Oswald) Chapters: 29/33 Read on AO3 here.

“Rose Tyler was dying - or, at least, she was relatively certain that that’s what was happening …” A Season 7 AU where Rose returns to her home universe only to find that 100 years have passed and nothing is quite the way that she remembers it. She wakes up with a new body, a new life, and a new Doctor. What has the Bad Wolf gotten her into this time? The 50th Anniversary will be included in this story.

After meeting all twelve versions of the Doctor and helping him to freeze his home planet away in a single second of time instead of burning it and killing billions of his people, Rose begrudgingly had to admit that she was longing for a scene that was a little bit more domestic for once. That's how she ended up making plans with the Maitlands for Christmas dinner, and effectively ensuring that she and the Doctor would spend their first holiday reunited in this universe together on Earth, just like the old days (though hopefully without the added threat of an alien invasion, this time).

However, the Doctor couldn't be persuaded into sticking around for the preparations, and Rose seemed to have forgotten that a normal Earth Christmas included cooking a full turkey dinner for her small family of five. George was also out of the house on some sort of last-minute business for the entirety of the day, so that left Rose alone with nothing more than a disaster of a kitchen and two obstinate, unhelpful teenagers.

"There's absolutely no way that thing is going to be done in time," Angie muttered pessimistically as Rose opened the oven and poked at the underdone turkey for the fifth time in as many minutes.

"Are you sure you followed the instructions?" Artie asked curiously as he peered over her shoulder.

"Yes! Of course I did! Of course I followed the instructions!" Rose lied, letting the door to the oven slam back shut and burying her head dejectedly into the oven mitts that were currently covering her hands. "This is a complete and utter disaster," she groaned into the padded gloves. She had had a lifetime and a half, now, to learn her way around a kitchen - but it seemed that she was still just as absolutely useless at cooking as ever.

"What are we going to eat, then?" Artie piped up as he eyed the rest of the half-prepared meal that Rose was still artlessly attempting to cobble together.

"There's no way I'm eating a bite of that turkey," Angie added snidely. "Probably get bird flu or something."

"That's not how bird flu works, Angie," Artie muttered with a roll of his eyes. His older sister opened her mouth to begin to argue the point, but Rose tossed off her oven mitts and shooed them both from the kitchen before they could really get into dissecting the finer points of avian-related illnesses.

As soon as she was alone once more, she immediately grabbed the super cell phone that the Doctor had left her with and dialed the one number that he had pre-programmed into it.

"Hello, the TARDIS!" his familiar voice greeted her brightly after a total of six terribly extended rings.

"Emergency. Looks like I'll be needing my boyfriend after all," Rose replied frantically as she glanced at the mess of food around her.

"Well, which is it this time? Landscaping or nannying?" the Doctor asked pointedly.

"What?" Rose demanded, furrowing her brows at the overdone vegetables before her in confusion.

"Is it a landscaping emergency or a nannying emergency?" the Doctor clarified with a small, annoyed huff. "Which boyfriend am I supposed to be this time?"

"Neither," Rose growled as she stabbed a spoon into the lumpy mashed potatoes sitting in a bowl on the counter near her. "No landscaping, no nannying. What I really need is a terribly handsome, time traveling boyfriend who can cook a whole roast turkey in about ... oh, let's say one hour."

"Good luck finding one of those," the Doctor muttered ruefully.

"I guess I'll just have to make do with you, then," Rose snapped pointedly. "Please, Doctor. I need you," she added a bit more desperately.

"I'll have you know that I am actually very busy at the moment!" he replied, his voice suddenly coming out a bit more frantic than it had been just a minute ago. "There's lots to do - I'm investigating this strange signal, and there are these enemy ships, and ..."

"But Doctor, it's Christmas!" Rose cut him off insistently.

"Yes, and I'm currently trying to avoid being shot out of the sky by a rogue cyberman fleet!" the Doctor replied just as insistently.

"Well, can't we do both?" Rose begged as she opened the oven once more to look at the pale, raw fowl inside.

There was suddenly a loud explosion from the Doctor's end of the call, but then he grunted in response, "Yeah, why not?" before the line was abruptly cut off and Rose was left all alone once more with her Christmas dinner lying in shambles around her.

--------------------

Rose was elated to hear the familiar sound of the TARDIS landing outside only a few minutes later, but she was decidedly

less

pleased when she burst through the old ship's doors to find her bondmate waiting for her excitedly with not a stitch on him.

She let out a startled shout despite herself the Doctor threw his hands into the air without even a hint of shame and exclaimed, "Rose! There you are!"

Rose let out another small yelp of surprise as he moved forward as if to embrace her before she fell into a fit of helpless giggles, making sure to hold her hand up to him in order to keep him from coming within reach of her. "Doctor! What do you think you're doing?" she demanded, barely able to speak through the uncontrollable laughter that was bubbling up from within her.

"What's the matter? What's wrong?" he asked, his brow furrowing in confusion as he let his arms fall dejectedly back to his sides.

"Doctor, where are your clothes?" Rose insisted breathlessly as she reached up to wipe tears of laughter from her eyes.

"Took them off," the Doctor replied with an unaffected shrug. Then, winking at her flirtatiously he added, "I wondered if you'd notice."

"Bit hard not to," Rose replied, propping her hands on her hips as she shook her head at him with a long-suffering sigh. "I called you to ask for your help with Christmas dinner. You can't come into the house like ... that."

The Doctor rolled his eyes at her as though she were the one who was being completely ridiculous, and then stepped forward to press a few buttons and flip a few switches near the monitor on the TARDIS console. In a flash of gold, Rose blinked and suddenly the Doctor was in his old jacket and bowtie once more.

"Better?" he asked, throwing his arms out once again as he impatiently awaited her approval.

"What did you just do?" Rose asked suspiciously, stepping closer but still not running into his arms the way that he clearly wanted her to.

"Hologram clothes," the Doctor replied loftily, "projected directly onto your visual cortex."

"No, no, no, that is not what I meant," Rose chided him. "Doctor, this is Christmas dinner. Angie and Artie are home - they're in the house right now. You can't come in unless you put real clothes on!"

The Doctor sighed loudly and rolled his eyes once more as he finally took the initiative to bridge the last few steps of space between them, wrapped his hands around the back of Rose's neck, and pressed a long, hard kiss to her lips.

She hummed in amusement against his mouth and tried very hard to fight back the giddy smile that she could feel stretching across her features, but she knew that she was failing to keep her enjoyment hidden as the Doctor's thoughts quietly brushed up against her own and he murmured directly into her mind, Only because you asked so nicely ...

Rose reached up to grab the lapels of his jacket and draw him in closer, but she discovered that hologram clothes were just as deceiving as they sounded, and her fingertips brushed against nothing more than cool, Time Lord skin instead. "Alright, this is really weird," she declared as she finally stepped back and forced her lips away from his. "Real clothes. Now. Then you can help me with the turkey."

"Ah, you're no fun," the Doctor grumbled under his breath as he hit another button on the console and his clothes instantly blinked out of sight once more.

"Oh, I'll show you just how fun I can be," Rose replied teasingly as she gave him a pointed once-over and tugged suggestively against his thoughts.

The Doctor's face immediately lit up as he eagerly returned her mental touch and smiled widely back at her.

"Doctor! It's Christmas!" she reminded him once more, pretending to be scandalized as she fought to hide her girlish blush from him.

He chuckled as he pressed a quick kiss to the crown of her head and then darted past her and headed deeper into the TARDIS towards wherever he had stashed his real clothes. Neither of them bothered to acknowledge out loud the silent promise that they made over their mental connection to continue where they had left off at another time. As with most things, they found that they were of a similar mind on the matter, and the anticipation had always been part of the excitement for both of them, anyway.

--------------------

Thankfully, the Doctor seemed to have a solution for Rose's turkey problem. However, her dreams of an idyllic Christmas dinner were quickly dashed as the Doctor insisted that they track down the source of the mysterious signal that he had been tracking in her absence, and they soon ended up onboard what he referred to as "the Papal Mainframe".

"Swallow this," the Doctor commanded, turning to place a small, pink tablet into Rose's palm as he piloted the TARDIS forward towards the large, glowing ship that seemed to be guarding the mysterious planet and the source of the signal below.

"What is it?" Rose asked, narrowing her eyes on him suspiciously. She hadn't liked the way that the Doctor so casually addressed the Mother Superious and his seeming familiarity with the futuristic, religious sect was making her nervous.

"Your hologram projector," he replied easily, making a general sweeping motion towards her with his hands, "you can't go to church with your clothes on."

"That's why you were naked, earlier?" Rose asked in frustration.

"Just trying to get to the church on time," the Doctor replied blithely as the TARDIS set down and he immediately reached for his bowtie, his nimble fingers quickly unraveling it and tossing it to the ground between his feet.

"But ... what's the point of being naked if we make it look like we're wearing clothes?" Rose insisted, still trying to wrap her mind around the entire situation as she clutched the small pink tablet in her hand.

"Well, you know religions and their rules," the Doctor replied breezily, letting his jacket fall from his shoulders next and then chucking it unceremoniously to the floor alongside his bowtie. "Come on, then. Don't want to be late," he added, gesturing to Rose once more as he unclipped the chain on his waistcoat and then removed the gold watch that he always wore on his left wrist.

Rose grumbled as she unwillingly placed the small tablet on her tongue and then forced herself to swallow. She glared at the Doctor from across the console as she slowly toed off her shoes, watching as he did the same with much more enthusiasm.

The holograms kicked in about half-way through their rushed disrobing, but it did nothing to ease Rose's intense discomfort. "I don't feel like I'm wearing anything," she hissed as she tugged at the hem of the new yellow jumper which she knew, in reality, wasn't there.

"I know - relaxing, isn't it?" the Doctor replied with a wide, easy smile as he straightened a bowtie that also wasn't real. However, his smile quickly faded into a petulant scowl as he narrowed his eyes at her and added, "Oi, it's all clothes. You can't go to church in your knickers."

Rose stared in open-mouthed shock as she glanced from the Doctor's annoyed expression to her seemingly-clothed body and back again. "What ...? How ...?" she demanded awkwardly.

"You didn't think a hologram was going to work on me, did you?" the Doctor asked haughtily, rolling his eyes as he slipped around the console to stand in front of her with his arms crossed pridefully against his chest. "Perception-altering devices like that only work on less evolved species," he reminded her pointedly.

Rose's gaping mouth immediately snapped shut as she tightened her jaw and glared up at the Doctor's glinting, mischievous eyes. "Yeah, keep it up, why don't you?" she hissed venomously as she moved to unhook the bra that she had left on in an attempt to feel just a little less exposed. "I'll show you where you can shove your Time Lord arrogance. It's not winning you any favors, you know. I'm not going to forget this!"

He arched a thoughtful brow in her direction as Rose bent to step out of her knickers as well and muttered lowly under his breath, "Yeah, neither will I."

Rose slapped him hard on the arm and glowered in his direction as she moved to pull her fake skirt as far down as she could get it to go in an attempt to cover her modesty. The Doctor hid his amused smile in her hair as he leaned forward to press another quick kiss to her forehead, but Rose could feel his pleased smugness over their bond and she filled his thoughts with nervous irritation in return.

However, if she thought that standing in front of the Doctor on the TARDIS in her hologram clothes had been awkward, that was nothing compared to the walk down the long, dark aisle that they had to make in order to reach the Mother Superious, who was waiting for them with a cool, imperious air at the top of a small set of stairs.

"Hey, babes," she greeted them casually after they had been formally announced and the Doctor had made another long, sweeping bow at her feet.

Rose curled up her nose in distaste as she watched the Doctor effortlessly flirt his way into the woman's (who he fondly referred to as Tash) good graces. The fact that Rose knew that they were standing at the center of the church's attention and wearing absolutely nothing made her even more irritated than normal with her bondmate's casual banter.

"Tash," the Doctor announced grandly as he swept his arms out in Rose's direction, "this is my ..." His words trailed off into awkward silence and his eyes grew large as the breathless seconds ticked by and he simply stared at Rose and struggled to find a word that encapsulated all that she was.

"Clara," Rose finally finished for him, smiling up at Tasha as kindly as she could as she silently filled the Doctor's mind with all of the curse words that she knew that she shouldn't speak out loud in a church. "I'm his Clara. Clara Oswald."

The Mother Superious flashed her an awkward, welcoming smile, before turning to give a dismissive nod to the line of soldiers flanking her. "We'll go to my chapel," Tasha commanded without hesitation, motioning for Rose and the Doctor to follow her deeper into the ship.

I'm so going to make you pay for this, Rose reminded her bondmate silently as she pulled at the hem of her hologram jumper once more and crossed her arms uncomfortably against her chest.

Will that be with or without the hologram projections? the Doctor replied teasingly. Rose slapped him again and firmly shoved him out of her mind in response, not wanting him to catch on to the way that his flirtatious words affected her when she was trying very hard to be cross with him.