#i would say expect more drawings of her from me but i am very inconsistent | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tojisveryown · 3 years

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𝙸𝚗 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝙴𝚢𝚎𝚜 | 𝟶𝟼

𝙰𝚌: 𝚠𝚃𝟼𝙸𝙳𝟸𝚀𝟺𝙰𝙺𝚄𝟿𝚏𝚛 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚠𝚝

𝚂𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜: 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎, 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚜𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚍 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎 𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝.

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚑𝚘𝚕, 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚎𝚡, 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚐 𝚞𝚜𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚜

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 𝟷.𝟿𝚔

��𝚊𝚐𝚜: 𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎 𝙰𝚄, 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎, 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏 𝚖𝚒𝚡𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝

𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎: 𝙿𝚕𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚕

𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 | 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟶𝟼 | 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

(𝚄𝚗𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍)

⋆ 💌 ⋆

Spring was nearing to an end, the cherry blossom trees were on the verge of falling and the nights were filled with the sound of rain. Days passed and your spring break ended.

The weather had been horrible, no sunny days were near. The cloudy and gloomy days were ongoing. The weather report stated that the next few weeks would be cloudy and or rainy.

Your spring break was ending and school was around the corner. For the last day of break you did nothing but stay in bed, Utahime was out visiting her family so you were left alone to sulk on what you had overheard before break begun.

Your last day was spent thinking how you’d be able to look Gojo in the eye after the information you acquired. “Who am I kidding? It’s not like he’s talking to me anyway.”

You fell asleep sulking on the fact that tomorrow was hours away.

⋆ 💌 ⋆

You walked up the steps, reminiscing on the day you overheard Utahime and Gojo’s conversation. You knew that it was something that you couldn’t bring up so casually and that it was something that have had to come from Gojo’s heart. Gojo was the only one who would’ve been able to tell you, out of respect you decided not to poke your head into business that wasn’t yours.

You reached the floor where your class was held and pursued your way to class, along the walk there Nanami had walked by your side.

“Good morning Y/N.”

“Moring Nami,” you looked up at him and nothing had changed, still the same old Nanami, “You look the same.”

“Is that supposed to be a bad thing?” Of course it wasn’t a bad thing, you hated change. You’ve always loved consistency.

“Mmm, not particularly. See you later?” Nanami nodded and you both went your separate ways.

You picked a seat and got yourself ready for the first boring day back. You dreaded this specific class, and what made you dread it even more was the fact that Gojo had the exact same schedule as you.

It didn’t help that the person who sat next to you was the person who you sought to ignore.

“Miss me?” You knew who it was without even turning your head, it was the same person who was able to get your heart pounding, the one and only stupid Satoru.

You didn’t answer him, you felt as if there was nothing to say. It’s been weeks since he ignored you. Why the sudden change?

It wasn’t that he knew you were eavesdropping, right?

“Hey,” he nudged your elbow with his “No need to ignore me.” Hypocrite much? He rested his big, fat, obnoxious, ugly, bug-looking head on his palm and looked straight at you. His crystal blue eyes were practically burning holes though your head.

⋆ 💌 ⋆

Throughout the lecture you were being bothered by Gojo, any chance he got he’d nudge your elbow and whisper things like

“Hey, are you mad at me?” “Of course I’m mad idiot, you ignored me for weeks” is what you wanted to say

“Y/N, talk to me”

“Y/N the lectures almost over”

“Y/N let’s have lunch!”

You didn’t respond, it was time for Gojo to be ignored while you did the ignoring. Noticing that you wouldn’t respond he began passing you notes, he’d write down things on sticky notes and stick them on your notebook, arm, and even head.

Most of the things he wrote were trying to get your attention, and when he got bored he began drawing penis’s on the notes and sticking them all over your arm. You gave him the side eye signifying you were done with his shit.

He looked up at you and noticed your sharp gaze, “I’m sorry.” He said as he took the sticky notes off your arm, notes, back, and backpack.

He sat quietly next to you until the lecture was over.

He noticed you weren’t packing your things, “Hey, class ended. Come on Y/N let’s get lunch.” He pulled your arm and grabbed your notebook.

“Gojo would you please leave me the fuck alone? I’m trying to work on this godforsaken project that you were supposed to help me with.” Gojo let go of your arm and flipped through your notebook.

“These note’s suck Y/N we’re never gonna get an A with this.” he looked at you innocently as you violently grabbed the notebook from his grip.

“Fuck off Gojo, I’m trying here.”

“Not hard enough.” you sighed and packed your things going into the opposite direction from him. You were sick of Gojos antics.

⋆ 💌 ⋆

You found a seat at the very back of the library, you came here often especially when it was to study. You liked how peaceful it was and how not many people were around giving you the advantage.

Just when you were about to open up your notebook you were startled when hands appeared in front of your eyes.

“Haha, so funny. I’m dying. Gojo i swear to god keep bugging me and I’ll kill you.” You later realized that Nanami’s hands were over your eyes after he let out a small laugh.

“You sound stressed.” Nanami pulled the chair beside you and sat down, “You okay Y/N?”

“Yeah sorry, this projects killing me.”

“Mhm, is Satoru not helping you?” you flinched at his name, you had given up on calling him Satoru. He broke your trust. You hoped that he’d realize you went back to calling him Gojo, right?

“Not in the slightest.”

Nanami helped you revise your notes and for the rest of the break period you and Nanami caught up. You had heard how his spring break was and how he trip to Malaysia with his family went. You and Nanami had grown closer, and this didn’t go unnoticed by a certain blue-eyed boy.

⋆ 💌 ⋆

The following day Gojo again tries to talk to you but you ignore him, you were done with the inconsistency he had with you and you hated the fact that you’d always find yourself slipping when it came to him.

“Y/N come on, why would you talk to me?”

Silence

“Y/N please.” still nothing, “I’ll work on the rest of the project if it means you’ll talk to me again.”

“Okay deal but you’re on thin fucking ice Gojo.” and again you let yourself slip.

You had thought it’d be best for you to bury what you had heard about him deep into your heart. It was something that Gojo himself would decide to tell you and if he never spoke up about it, it comes to show that he never truly cared about you. You wanted to believe he did but why was it taking him so long to fess up?

“Hey, let’s go on another date to you know.. catch up?”

⋆ 💌 ⋆

It was a Saturday afternoon, the skies were gloomy and grey and the weather was still horrible. The weather constantly put you down, you felt like it was too much of a drag to even get out of bed.

“Oh that’s right, I have a date with Gojo today.” You almost had second thoughts with the way you felt, you wanted to stay in a ball wrapped up in your sheets.

Nonetheless you still got ready, during break to keep yourself distracted you went shopping for new clothes, you wanted to give yourself a new imagine, a makeover. It was time you come out of your shell, new beginnings were approaching, you couldn’t stay the same forever. You wanted change, you almost craved it.

⋆ 💌 ⋆

It was 6:47, You waited at the train station for Gojo, you came there fairly early but you couldn’t wait to get this stupid date over with. You don’t even know why you agreed, one thing led to another and your mouth moved on its own and now you’re here.

You knew you had came a few minutes too early but you didn’t expect to wait a total of two hours. It was about to be nine o’clock and yet no sign of Gojo, not once did he text or call.

“Maybe he forgot..” you sighed and looked up at the dark cloudy skies. “Ha, who am I kidding he didn’t forget.” You knew Gojo was a player, tons of girls fawned over him and craved his attention. You knew Gojo couldn’t resist their attention. You knew that the last thing he would crave, was yours.

Still, you waited another hour. By now there were a few crowds of people but you still weren’t able to spot the blue-eyed man.

Another hour passed by and it was nearing midnight. You wanted to believed he’d show up and that he didn’t forget, but with Gojo believing was never bound to end up well.

You took a deep breathe and stood up from the bench you were hopelessly waiting at. You dragged your feet to the exit and just as you were about to take the first step leading outside your eyes met with a panting Gojo

“Y/N.”

Was your hope being tested?

“Y/N, I am so sorry. I thought our date was tomorrow and then I saw-”

You cut him off by pulling him into a hug, “Shut up Satoru.” Your watery eyes hid themselves into the hoodie he was wearing. It smelt like the hospital, you knew he was lying. He didn’t forget, he needed an excuse.

⋆ 💌 ⋆

Gojo took you to his apartment, it was late and most of the things you two could’ve done were already closing. His apartment was on one of the highest floors and the balcony he had gave you two the perfect advantage for stargazing. He set up a comfortable space for the both of you.

The stars weren’t completely visible but the dark clouds was indeed a sight to see. The silence between you and Gojo was very comforting.

“The moon looks beautiful tonight isn’t it, Y/N?”

“Huh? It looks the same as always.”

Gojo laughed, his head was now turned facing you and moments later you turned to face him. You two stared into each others eyes, you both saw sadness and regret. You both craved a happy ending.

Gojo leaned in and placed his soft lips on yours. One thing led to another leading you and him onto his bed. Tonight was the night where you and Gojo became one.

⋆ 💌 ⋆

“I’m glad we spent time together. This will be one of my favorite days for the rest of my life.”

“Stop being corny.”

“Y/N.” He looked at you deeply with his crystal eyes, the moonlight shining on his skin, the warmth of his body pressed up against yours made this night special. Sadly all good things come to an end. “I’m sick.”

“I know but it’s just a little while longer and th-”

“She really is right you know, you really are a stupid Satoru.”

“Utahime it’s not like I can fucking tell her ‘Hey I have pancreatic cancer and I’m dying!’ Do you know how stupid that sounds?”

“Satoru-”

“Fuck I know okay?”

“If you know tell her. Do you honestly think she would be okay if one day you just stopped showing up?”

“There’s no hope for us, you know that Utahime. I refuse to be the reason that she can’t love after I’m gone.”

“You’re gonna be her biggest regret if you don’t love her now.”

“Yeah, I know.” Gojo’s expression on you softened, he cried in your arms and you cried in his, knowing the person before you was soon about to be yet another faint memory.

You finally understood why the weather had been horrible, mother nature felt for you and Satoru. That night the sky cried with you both.

“How much longer do you have?”

⋆ 💌 ⋆

𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 | 𝙽𝚎𝚡𝚝 | 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎: 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐! 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊 𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 :) 𝙰𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌! 𝙷𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢'𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥

⋆ 💌 ⋆

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @peppytine @enesitamor @fairyblue-alchemist @diluczs @honouredsatoru @thankuary @sookyshima

⋆ 💌 ⋆

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onebizarrekai · 3 years

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v3′s art is comically terrible for a professionally distributed game in a series: a compilation

in this not-essay I will list all of the mistakes and problems I have spotted in v3′s art. don’t worry, it’s entirely for fun and I’m doing this on a whim, so please feel free to not take this seriously but also it’s hilarious and embarrassing how ridiculous this is like what happened did they speedrun the whole production or what

see, there are some things you can take as meta like “they made it bad on purpose to allude to the downfall of tv shows that have been on air for much too long” but I have a very strong feeling this is not the case due to the nature of some of these errors

disclaimer, the more I study this art, the more I fear that the artists were underpaid and underslept, so if this is in fact the case, I am so sorry to all of them but also I’m going to make fun of the art anyway

anyway let’s get started!

if you study this image for longer than 5 seconds, you will see that kaede is the only one fully shaded and keebo is literally just his normal sprite pasted into the image. every other character is just an ordinary ref, hence most of them facing the exact same direction with neutral expressions on their faces. it looks like a bad edit, and is probably one of the worst pieces of art in the game. it kind of gets better from here on, but my roasting will not.

with that out of the way, here’s the problem that officially bothers me the most and clarifies my viewpoint of “this is not meta and an actual lack of company communication”

this freaking cg, which seems normal at a glance, but some wiseass was like “oh, kaede is a girl, so obviously she’s going to be shorter than the Male Protagonist™” ah, that’s funny. because if you look at the character bios, kaede is, in fact, one inch taller than shuichi and not like 6 inches shorter as she is shown here.

also shuichi’s shoulder is disproportionate and horrendous and he looks vaguely like a jojo character, but I wasn’t even thinking about that until right now.

thanks guys, 50% of the fandom who has never bothered to check these bios thinks that kaede is like 5′3 (did the developers really put so little thought into her to the point where drawing her correctly in the game didn’t even matter??)

also I would like to point out that, even though this isn’t related to the art itself, yes, a character kaede’s size being only 117 lbs is unfeasible, but this applies to literally every character in danganronpa ever and it’s not new news that it’s unrealistic

update: someone in the tags informed me that in versions of the game that use centimeters, like the japanese version, kaede is actually shorter than shuichi, which just adds another thing to the list of weird decisions the localization team made for no reason. that said, after confirming this, kaede is 167 cm in the original, while shuichi is 171 cm, which are approximately 5′6 and 5′7 respectively, but one inch is still nowhere near as drastic as it is depicted above. (in spite of this, I would rather depict kaede as slightly taller, so I’m probably going to keep doing that.)

the journey continues!

bro if you want kaede to have shoulder length hair then stick to it to begin with

you can pretend this is at an angle all you want but they definitely committed the shorter kaede sin a second time

wait a goddamn second.

DO YOU SEE THIS

no………… it wasn’t kaede who shrank. it was shuichi who got taller

speaking of which, can we talk about how shady the perspective is in this elevator pic? look at shuichi and kokichi in comparison to kaede. kokichi, who is canonically 7 inches (edit: or 5, if you’re loyal to the original) shorter than kaede, looks taller than kaede. he’s growing too. what steroids are these gays taking

running into the room, electric boogaloo: I don’t think tsumugi is supposed to be the same height as kokichi

gonta… gonta you’re lookin a bit like a jojo character there

I love how kaito’s head looks kind of like it was pasted onto his body. why is he the same size as shuichi? shouldn’t he be high school bully size or something? his torso is teensy

ah yes, white angie.

I love this cg but why is shuichi’s right hand so much bigger than his left hand

I also love how this cg looks like they literally took pictures of trees and pasted them into the background, especially on the left. the shadows are so weird, especially closer to the ceiling, it’s difficult for me to believe they didn’t do exactly that.

return of Enlarged shuichi

puberty update: kokichi is now taller than shuichi in spite of shuichi never missing leg day. what crimes will he commit

I have to mention it, guys. this has to be one of the worst danganronpa cgs. kokichi’s facial proportions look atrocious. look at the way his face sticks out like his jaw is in the wrong place. his scarf is a pasted texture. that’s it. this moment was so iconic but the cg just looks so… so… off. like something is terribly wrong, but you can’t put your finger on it.

you know what? let’s get into that ‘pasted texture’ thing.

let’s imagine you’re an artist working on a professional game. you’re assigned to draw cgs of kokichi ouma, who has a checkered scarf from hell. sure, it will be terrible to draw, but you only have to draw it once at a time! plus, perspective is pretty important, right? can you be bothered? nah, actually. let’s just copy paste a checkered pattern into the cg, because I’m sure nobody will notice. it’ll blend right in with the other cgs that someone actually put effort into drawing his scarf in, right?

no. the answer is no and I very much noticed. this genuinely looks terrible and I would understand taking a shortcut like that in fanart or even an indie game but this is a full price pc and console distributed game

(an addition: look at kokichi’s TINY HANDS in that last one)

meanwhile, they straight up forgot to color in kokichi’s scarf in this cg.

dude. I forgot about whatever the hell this cg was. anyway look at keebo please just look at him

lovin kaito’s baby arms

real talk, maybe you could argue that he’s missing muscle because he’s deathly sick, but most of his cgs don’t line up with this, and his arms just look disproportionate to his torso size (granted this is a consistent problem across all danganronpa games and a lot of characters have this weird problem, like hajime, but also kaito is bigger than hajime so I kind of have higher expectations of him) maybe it’s his stupid goatee and the way he reminds me of yasuhiro?? it creates this illusion that he’s older than he is and so I keep expecting him to look more like an adult

oh, also rantaro is missing some of his accessories in that video he made–you know the one–but I don’t wanna go back and screenshot it

also you may have noticed that I’m skipping all of the monokub cgs because I literally do not care about them and I’m not even bothering to check and see if they have artistic mistakes in them

JIMMY NEUTRON???

hey um uh kaito you seem to be missing your neck

hey guys do you like my pregame fanart

so, that done, the sprites are also pretty terrible at times. they’re not as interesting to go through, however, and downloading the full sprite sets for every character and studying every single one of them will drive me insane, so I’ll just sum some of the ones I noticed up. I made things for kaede and shuichi before deciding I wasn’t going to get into it, so here are these.

that said, other mistakes include kokichi missing his purple highlights in all of the sprites encompassing a specific pose, stray pixels all over the place on everyone, and everyone also has heavily inconsistent shading, but literally all I think about is how pregame shuichi is unshaded and two of kaede’s pregame sprites have glaring outfit change mistakes in them

anyway, thank you for taking the time to read my ridiculous ramble. in all seriousness, there’s this looming presence of some lack of communication in the development team, like with all the art and design inconsistencies, pieces and sprites that look rushed, stray pixels, and missing basic proportional stuff. these are the kinds of things that you supposedly have to pretty much have in the bag in order to get jobs in professional businesses, so it’s really weird to me that this game suffers from so many of these problems. it’s like they tried to make the art so much more crisp than the other games, but it fell on its face as they realized it was going to take longer to draw everything and they started to rush. it’s weird, because the coloring itself looks normal–it’s just sloppily drawn, and the proportions are a mess once put into the context of perspective. many of the cgs look like they were drawn by different people, and I’m still not over the fact that half of kokichi’s cgs have his scarf pasted in as a texture.

the moral of the story is that if you’re selling a game at full price that also happens to be in a series that has had 3 very good games in it already the stakes should probably be higher than this. v3 has been out for more than 3 years and it’s still $40 (did it cost more than that before? I sure hope not), and the overarching quality of the game is just not as high as the other games. I’m not saying that the other games don’t have any problems with their art at all, they’re just not as glaringly obvious and every artistic choice in those games feels intentional.

regardless, I had a blast roasting the art at 2am, so maybe you got a kick out of all this chaos.

#god I keep telling myself I'm gonna stop rambling about v3 #v3 spoilers #drv3 spoilers #ndrv3 #random stuff #but making this… it sounded so fun #danganronpa

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mybg3notebook · 3 years

Text

Does Gale love Mystra?

So far in EA, we have been shown that this is complicated to answer: human love is complex as well as the delirious lore of Forgotten Realms.

Disclaimer Game Version: All these analyses were written up to the game version v4.1.104.3536 (Early access). As long as new content is added, and as long as I have free time for that, I will try to keep updating this information. Written in June 2021.

The number between brackets [] represents the topic-block related to (this post), which gathers as much evidence as I could get.

The narrative is clear until the party scene which, as I stated many times across these posts, it's a scene that feels a bit inconsistent for me (reasonable since it's EA). But if we follow what the game explicitly shows us, we know that if we send Gale to sleep at the beginning of the Weave scene in which he is watching the incantation with the shape of Mystra, he will say:

Gale: Long days, yes. And long, lonesome nights.

If Tav knows that the incantation on his palm is Mystra, Gale will explain:

Tav: [insight] You don't have that look on your face when you're looking at “no one” / There's more to it than that. The figure I saw: she means something to you. Gale: [...] I can’t quite describe it, the need I sometimes feel to see her – to draw the filaments of fantasy into existence. [...]

Dev's notes: Passionate. [...] He was recalling Mystra as a lover, but doesn’t say that out loud. [...] Narrator: The Weave evaporates, and as it does so, you realise the night feels suddenly cold and lonesome.

This allows us to infer that, at this moment, Gale is feeling alone and probably very anxious with the oppressing feeling of the "orb" in his chest. The tadpole only increased the number of problems he has, so he resorts to seeing Mystra melancholically. We notice later in the Weave Scene that not having Mystra around increases this feeling of loneliness. The whole scene seems to give us the idea that he still loves her. There is yearning and loneliness in his current situation.

After a moment of passionate description of magic, Gale invites Tav to experience the Weave. The Weave has a particular effect on Gale: "The moment feels intimate. You realise the Weave is making you one." Considering how Gale was feeling while conjuring the incantation, this moment touched him deeply (the narrator implies that this feeling is mutual).

If Tav expresses their romantic interests, Gale will be surprised:

Gale: I.. I didn’t think.. Narrator: You perceive quick-fire gusts of embarrassment, trepidation, and finally.. elation Gale: Sorry, I wasn’t expecting… But it is a pleasant image to be sure! Most pleasant, in fact. Most welcome. Dev's notes: Warm, with real affection.

The narrator is giving us meta-knowledge, we can trust in what she says, and we can see that the situation was truly shocking for Gale. These emotional stages described here made me suspect that Gale is a character who has focused for too long on healing his condition, ignoring any chance for romance. His surprise here may confirm that, in my opinion. He feels embarrassment, a feeling that one can interpret as a sign of the surprise of being thrown into a situation he had not seen beforehand (the death protocol and Gale’s conversations show us that he is a character that thinks ahead). It follows trepidation: fear or anxiety about something that he is going to do or experience. Gale is scared of the possibility. Maybe because he is thinking in the danger he is, maybe because he was already burnt by Mystra's attention and having someone else's attention now makes him feel a bit anxious. And then, the final resolution of the process: elation, which is a feeling of great happiness and excitement about something that has happened. Gale is suddenly excited by the possibility. Something he will be thinking about, many times, for the rest of the EA.

Tav: So what did you think about what I pictured when we were connected by the Weave? Gale: Oh, I was surprised. But pleasantly so, just like I said. Amid the madness that has befallen us, it seems almost out of place to think of a kiss/ of a romantic walk. And yet... now more than ever, it's important to recall what makes us human. [if Tav is not human] Well- you know what I mean. A stolen glance- that sudden heartbeat... Sometimes the little things are worth more than kingdoms. They promise things to come.

So romance was not something he had even considered until the opportunity arose (this is why he won't pursue a Tav who didn't show romantic interest towards him). I think that, since he is a character always living on the edge of death, he will take this opportunity to feel “human again”: after all, he follows the concept of "living life to the fullest".

During the Loss (see the post of the "Loss Scene"), we know that losing Mystra was a big blow for him. He regrets his decisions of the past in this scene, and it reinforced the idea that he is the only one to blame for Mystra's loss. There is a yearning for the lost Chosen powers, but Gale's context in the majority of his scenes seem to reinforce the idea that he sought power not as a means, but as a goal itself to be closer to Mystra and Magic. Since we are talking about a wizard, his passion lies in magic itself, in being one with the Weave/Magic/Mystra. A Chosen of Mystra is so entangled with the Weave and magic that when they die, they are part of the Weave itself. This is the level of passion that Gale has for Magic, and since Magic can only be performed by most mortals via Weave, and the Weave is Mystra, the whole three concepts are, in fact, one; and it makes it very difficult from a lore point of view to separate them.

Tav: There's something I don't understand. If Mystra abandoned you, how can you still cast magic? Gale: The Weave is still here, all around us – inside of us too. As long as the goddess lives, magic is a tangible thing for those who know how to touch. I've studied magic for many years, and in as many ways I am still a more than capable wizard. It's just that I'm no longer able to perform those feats even arch wizards would marvel at. To have one hand on the pulse of divinity. You have to remember that the Weave is a living thing, both the embodiment and the extension of Mystra herself.She can give and she can take away. I'm afraid I'm still very much on her naughty list. Consider yourself lucky you're not.

I personally think Gale will never stop being devoted to Mystra (and won't stop loving her in many ways), because his passion for magic and knowledge is his own life, and Mystra IS those things. He loves magic for the sake of it. So losing this unique contact with magic itself that only Chosen of Mystra have was a terrible punishment for him. His abandonment issues are not just the result of a “guy being left by a girl”. They have an extra complexity because of the nature of Magic in this world and how its deity behaves with her chosen. Gale was not only abandoned by Mystra, but was also removed of a good amount of his capacity to perform magic. If magic “is his life”, the abandonment removed a part of his life away. I think some people miss this point, because, once more, it's related to Forgotten Realm lore and not Dragon Age. Many of these people keep constantly comparing this situation with Dragon Age, which has nothing to do with it. Dragon Age has no wizards, their relationship with Magic is natural, it’s sorcerer-like if we want to compare it, and the relationship with their deities (mostly absent, silent ones) are nothing alike the ones in Forgotten Realm. The context is key, as I repeated several times in these posts and in the one about "Context, persuasion, and manipulation".

Tav: I don't know what to make of what you've told me, but I sympathise. Gale: Thank you. [no romantic weave] I want you to know that you’re a good friend. [romantic weave] I often think of that moment we shared together – one under the Weave. I hope you think about it too. /I'm glad to know you think about it too.

Narrator: You sense a moment of unspoken affection. You want to know where it may lead. Gale: I consider myself very lucky to have found you Tav: I think perhaps we could be more than friends Gale: Perhaps.

Tav: You said you think about the moment we shared under the weave. Do you think about it often? Gale: Do you? 1-2-Tav: Yes / From time to time. Gale: So do I. 3- Tav: Not really. Gale: And yet you ask. I do, as a matter of fact.

Gale: You see. I'm not a big believer in fate, but I do believe in serendipity. Life is a tempest of events that sometimes we brace against and sometimes embrace. You're one such event that one day soon perhaps I'd like to embrace.

So after sharing this regret during the Loss scene, Gale will show affection if Tav remains friendly during the Weave (but Gale will never directly engage it, he is waiting for Tav to give the first step; understandable if we consider he also has a dangerous bomb in his chest, so he may be torn between wanting to, but knowing he should not to). If there is no interest in pursuing romance, he will show a gesture of gratitude for being a good friend during that night of regrets.

If pursuing the romance, we can interpret that Gale, at this point, even though he is still struggling with all the emotions that Mystra inspires, wants to experience something more “human”, a romance with a mortal. We know for sure that Gale is getting interested, slowly, while thinking about it, since in each of the following scenes he will ask (or Tav will ask) about that “moment in the Weave”. He has been thinking about it for many nights, and he is “embracing” the idea.

If Gale is treated with judgement (despite not knowing his whole story) or allowing him to keep the secret of what or who he lost, we will obtain lines likes:

Gale: Good. Goodnight. And thank you for your patient understanding. // And try not to think too poorly of me. A cat can look at a king. A wizard can look at a goddess.

Tav: Another fool pays for his arrogance. A tale as old as time. Gale: Arrogance? Ambition, rather. And ambition is a fine thing – until suddenly it no longer is. Then again, if that is how you judge me, there’s little I can do to change your mind. But know that I have this ambition still. First to save myself, and after that, the licence to dream. (Gale Disapproval)

We could interpret these lines as the only ones so far that may suggest that Gale is still wanting something from the goddess. We know due to the tadpole dreams that Gale’s desire is Mystra. On the comments of the second tadpole dream we know more details about his major desire: it is not just Mystra, but her forgiveness.

Tav: Gale, who is the apparition in your dreams? Gale: She's... It doesn't matter. I just know her to be unreal. Tav: What's impossible about what you're been shown? Gale: Forgiveness Tav: Gale, who is the apparition in your dreams? Gale: It's indeed Mystra I see. And yet it cannot be her. There was a time when I would have believed - but no longer. I told you that I lost her. Lost her favour and lost so many of the powers I took for granted. What magic I can still weave is met only with undercurrents of disappointing silence. Mystra has not changed her mind about me. That's how I know our dreams are delusions.

I think this scene shows the difference between a standard desire for power as a means, and power for the sake of power itself (since this power allows Gale to be one with the Weave). The scene is ambiguous enough to see it as Gale wanting to return to Mystra’s side as well as remaining as an ardent devotee of her (because she is magic herself). I keep repeating that these scenes show that Gale’s most important thing in his life is Magic, which is Mystra: the extension and the embodiment of magic. So his desire for her seems impossible to be extinguished completely. In previous scenes we saw that he certainly had thought through the idea of loving her more like a devotee than a lover, but certainly the weight of being his first love will remain, especially since she is deeply related to magic itself.

During the Party Scene we find some information about his feelings for Mystra.

I personally ponder the book of Amn’s description as very important because, from a narrative point of view, it's a lot of lines/content that, if they were not important, tend to be removed from the script. If they are there, they are meant to be interpreted. For this reason those lines mean to me that Gale has finally embraced the idea of having something important with a mortal. In my post of the "Party Scene" I go into details, but here I will stick to the interpretation related to Mystra: all what Gale numerates in that book are things that he could not access to with a Goddess. Curiously, part of those descriptions are things that make humans human, so I personally think it reinforces Gale's intention in heading into this romance with the eagerness of finding some shelter (never forget the “orb” has a constant oppressing effect in him, increasing his anxiety and fears) and to experience (maybe for the first time) the love of a mortal.

So, for some assumptions made in the post of the "Party Scene", we suspect that Gale needs to share a night to feel confident enough to speak the details of his “orb” condition. Since he wants this relationship to be strong (after all, he implied commitment during the description of the book) he speaks about the true origin of the “orb” immediately after that night, starting with Mystra (which is, after all, the true origin of his folly). Depending on the version that Tav picks, we have extra information provided by Gale about his emotions for the Goddess:

Tav: What did Mystra’s attention feel like? Gale: Love. Perhaps it was not quite love, but you see, the wizard was but a very young man. It was most certainly love to him. [...] One day all too soon, the whispers stopped. The goddess spurned the mortal. [...] and the wizard was left behind heartbroken. Tav: I hate to say it, but he really could have seen this coming Gale: He was blinded by love. Good stories are rife with lovers’ follies after all.

[Short Version] Gale: Before long Mystra tired of me. What was I after all but a mortal plaything in sacred hands? You have to realise I was heartbroken. I was a young man, she was my first love. I thought it would last forever. I vowed to win her back.

[after explaining the mistake of the “orb”] Gale: It is this folly that led Mystra to abandon me completely. I can only hope you won’t abandon me as well. After all we’ve been through.. After the night we spent together. Surely we can brave even this side by side

Gale is giving a very detailed context about his love for Mystra: she was his first love, and the first love tends to have a special weight in a person's life and their memories. That doesn't mean the person has become unable to build more relationships for the rest of their life. If we add the fact that he was very young when all this happened (more details in the Post "Gale Hypotheses- Part 1") we find him under two effects: the impression of the first love and the naivety of the youth. Both elements made him believe it was a love that was going to last forever. With a Goddess, no less.

Besides, Gale expresses this, highlighting his naivety and foolishness: he is aware of how silly he was back then, and how impossible it could be for a mortal to keep the love of a goddess. He is a pragmatic and realistic character, after all. He recognizes in the end that he was just a mortal plaything for her.

I think these pieces of information give us a very clear context of his emotional state: he is still nostalgic for Mystra because of all the reasons I enumerated above; she is also more than just a woman, she is Magic itself. But he is aware that those emotions were the consequence of a very naïve and young self that has awakened by the burden of his own mistakes. There is also a reinforcement of “forever”, which recalls the concept of commitment that Gale pursues so much in his romance: he is not there just for the sex “intimacy”, he is there for serious commitment, maybe because he doesn't want to experience another abandonment. After all, we are talking about a character with a profile that shows abandonment issues (see the post of "Gale Hypotheses- Part 1", section: "Abandonment Issues")

[If rejected] Tav: No. This is too large a betrayal. GALE: I see. I am sorry. I am sorry that it had to come to this. All that’s left to say is farewell. Dev’s notes: hurt but understanding Gale: Farewell. (Leaves) Dev’s notes: A slight hesitation, hurt but understanding. He makes a polite little bow, then we see him walk away.

[If accepted] Gale: I don’t know what I did to deserve the magic that you do.

Despite being terribly cheesy, this last line shows that Gale was more than convinced that Tav would abandon him because he doesn’t deserve Tav. This is why he doesn't put up much fight if Tav chooses to tell him to leave. He will try to make Tav listen to his story, and once it's done, the verdict will fall and he will accept it. He learnt his lesson with Mystra. This line also shows how everything important around Gale is or has to be worded with magic, even a silly metaphor like this is related with the word “magic”: Tav's acceptance is like magic. For him, as important and good as magic itself.

As if that were not enough, after the scene there is a comment in which Gale will reinforce his gratitude for Tav's acceptance:

Tav: If you ever feel the netherese magic overtaking you, what will you do? Gale: If it should ever come to that... if I ever know I am no longer able to stop it... I will do anything I can to ensure no one but me pays for my mistakes. I will find the remotest place on the surface of Faerûn, or perhaps far below in the depths of the Underdark. I will await that death alone. [*] I promise I will not betray your trust... You kept me by your side despite the menace that I am. If worst comes to worst, I will be gone long before the curtain falls. [*] If romanced, Gale will say here "I cherish you."

Which makes me suspect that Gale can disappear at any moment (in full game) if for some game mechanics we are unable to get magical artefacts but the deal with Raphael did not happen (if that’s even possible). But that's just me speculating. Nothing in EA seems to suggest this. What i's clear is that acceptance—that strong concept in the book he put so much emphasis on—is really important to him, so he shows gratitude for that: he promises to protect Tav (and many innocents) from his own mistake. He also says pretty soon an equivalent of “I love you”, in a more formal/meaningful way: “to cherish” is not just to love, but to care/protect as well.

Finally, in case someone lost those hints, or maybe as a consequence of this unpolished scene, we have a direct question with a direct answer:

Tav: Gale, are you still in love with Mystra? Gale: I’ll be honest with you; I don’t know. She is my muse still, the embodiment of magic, but the embodiment of love? Only if we ever meet again will I know

Gale simply says what we have been inferring so far with all the previous information: Gale reinforces the idea that he will remain as a strong, loving devotee of Mystra, because she is magic. I personally don't even consider it possible to remove that love from him. He may not be a cleric, but he loves his deity as one. But he also learnt his lesson that loving gods has its own dire consequences for mortals. He is very aware of it during the discussion about Karsus:

Tav: Nothing good ever comes from mortals wanting to be gods.

Gale: Loving them has its side effects as well. Now, so many centuries later, I tried to follow in the footsteps of Karsus, not to destroy Mystra, but to prove my love for her. It tried to control only a fraction of the magic that was unleashed that fateful day. I merely sought to return one tiny diamond to an imperfect crown. Gale's Folly one might call it. History. Repetition. It's the way things go.

Once more, there is no scene where Gale doesn't reinforce that what he did was a mistake, a foolish action, a Folly.

Finally, if talking about a previous lover immediately after awakening with a new one was of poor taste, Gale acknowledges this, giving an honest apology:

Gale: Before we go on though, do first let me apologise. To share such a night with you only to tell you of a previous lover the next morning... It wasn't the most gentleman-like behaviour. But I had to finally tell you. Silence would have been far worse behaviour still. Nevertheless, I am sorry.

He accepts any rude response or lash-out from Tav without approval penalties. This is an interesting meta-knowledge that speaks about owning up to his mistakes. Unlike the Loss scene, where rude responses made Gale disapprove because Tav was judging him without knowing the whole story [16], in this scene he doesn’t. Now Tav has the whole picture, and he accepts whatever reaction Tav shows. Of course he will approve a forgiving Tav, since Gale is a character very related to forgiveness [12, 12b].

Conclusion:

So, answering the question that gives title to this section: yes. In my opinion, Gale loves Mystra. But it’s not a white-and-black love; it has the complexity of human love mixed with this crazy lore of deities in Forgotten Realms. I believe Mystra will always be part of Gale's life, because the Weave and magic are his life, and she is both. He will always love her as a devotee, even though he now understands the mistakes of his young self and seems more aware of how naive he was when he was a “very young man”. The comments on the second tadpole dreams explicitly show that what Gale wants the most is Mystra’s forgiveness, but at the same time, he knows that he does not deserve it. And this raw realistic view of himself is what makes him understand that those dreams are illusions. During the party scene he is uncertain about his emotions, but still he emphasises that there is a big chance for him to not see Mystra as the embodiment of love any more but reinforces that she will always be the embodiment of magic to him (a very important concept in his character design).

Whether Gale is romanced or not, I don't see a difference in the information he shares on this matter in EA.

This post was written in June 2021. → For more Gale: Analysis Series Index

#bg3 meta #gale #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale

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emmys-grimoire · 3 years

Text

Lesson 52 analysis + 53 predictions

Turning this into a routine thing now! They’re fun to write and they’re popular (moreso than my actual commentary posts lmao).

Y’all like my ramblings.

Things guessed correctly from prior lesson

The House of Lamentation was an illusion produced by the fairies

The arc culminated in the completion of the Trial of Patience (star received via Simeon)

The illusion did a number on Simeon's feelings as well due to his fondness for Lucifer and the brothers

They shoved Mammon and Luke off to the side and plopped them back in only after the Satan/Simeon arc was complete. There was no arc for Luke. To be fair, though, they did get more content than I expected even so.

Things guessed wrong

The banshee didn't show up at all. It was a red herring.

There was no significance to the geranium found in the mysterious book

Our adventure also completed the Trial of Generosity. (I incorrectly attributed this to Diavolo, who actually gave us the Star of Gratitude)

Still ???

Whether or not there is some kind of transfer of memories/experiences going on between the brothers' past selves and present selves due to our meddling in time. We've confirmed that past angel Beelzebub has turned into a glutton in between the time we last saw him and now, but we haven't confirmed if it *is* our meddling that has induced that. Currently, no change has manifested in the present brothers, nor has the timeline of events seemed to have significantly changed.

Whether or not present Lucifer becoming more "angelic" in season 2, in lieu of past angel Lucifer's growing doubt, will be a significant plot point. The parallels are getting stronger, though. (This is elaborated on further down)

It feels like 50/50? I’ll probably keep a list like this going for future analysis/prediction posts just so I can keep track of how right/mistaken I am throughout the playthrough. Might help me make less mistakes in my analysis!

As a general rule I try not to meander too far off into symbolism or out-of-game lore because what I write begins to sound like this:

And this is an otome game that is light on writing and plot. Nine times out of ten, it’s not going to be that deep. So I work with the details given and the plot points shown and try to draw connections within the framework of the story, in an attempt to try to deduce where the devs are taking the plot. Unfortunately for me, the devs like red herrings, and red herrings are designed to mislead you. With me, they are quite successful! I’d like to get better at spotting them.

The book was consequential -- it’s used to imprison Satan later -- but that’s the end of it’s meaning. Maybe the Bible verse had something to do with it, too -- those were some weird ass numbers to just throw in the title -- but maybe not. Either way, it doesn’t really matter.

But enough of that, onwards! We have a lot of points to go over that may be interesting to note, right or not.

Satan the Memory Thief

Back in 50-B we learn that it was Michael who taught the brothers the stories behind the human world constellations.

When we’re tossed back in time-dreamland (?) again, it is Satan who takes the opportunity to teach the brothers the human world constellations. The room had just been remodeled: Michael hasn’t had the opportunity to give them tours yet. Lucifer mosied into the room so he and the brothers can get the first glimpse.

Sooo if in a future lesson we ask them about where they learned the constellations in the present timeline and they say “oh a guy named Sully, who suspiciously looked just like Satan, taught us!” then we know our meddling is having significant consequences.

It IS worth noting that unlike the prior dream sequence, Satan and Simeon remember what they just went through. This particular time-dream could very well just be an illusion meant to give Satan/Simeon some kind of emotional resolution and nothing else. This is kind of why I hate that they’re bring time travel back into the story: it makes stuff like this confusing and borderline inconsistent. Some sequences may have effects and others may not.

The chat between Lucifer and Simeon could also be consequential.

“Do you *really* mean that?”

There is a parallel at play here!

After you wake up after dozing off, you go off to find Lucifer and Simeon conversing in a forest clearing, evidently unaware that you’re eavesdropping on them. Simeon says although he knows it is just an illusion, that he was glad to see angel Lucy once more. Angel Lucy is predictably confused, and reassures Simeon that they’ll remain like this forever.

Simeon, of course, knows better. He tells Lucifer that he knows he’s been meeting with Diavolo and he’s having doubts about his place in the Celestial Realm -- and if things really will remain the same. Lucy is caught off guard, and starts to explain with some clear hesitation... and of course we pass out before we could hear his answer.

There’s creepy loud heartbeats when it fades out. Normally I associate them with tense, pivotal decisions -- but it could also just be related to us waking up and returning to reality.

If Simeon ends up being wrong -- and there will be real world consequences to this conversation -- they could be very significant consequences. We’re not sure if the conversation continues for a bit longer after we pass out, but Simeon already woke up before we come to.

Obviously the brothers still fell (they’re still demons in the present), but I wouldn’t underestimate the potential of a butterfly effect changing the circumstances of the Great Celestial War. I kind of hope they don’t do that, though, because they haven’t even begun to explain the present details of that event. We know only the broad strokes. Suddenly changing them to make the resolution between the demons and angels more smooth will feel really forced.

And that parallel I mentioned: Diavolo expresses similar worries and doubt in Lucifer’s conviction in season 2.

I have no doubt Lucifer actually means what he says to Diavolo, unlike his dialogue with Simeon, but Diavolo is aware of just how far Lucifer will go for the sake of his family -- and he’s probably #2 on the priority list, when push comes to shove. Lucifer forsaking the Celestial Realm for Lilith was the thing that brought him to Diavolo in the first place.

Of course, this lesson has Simeon suggesting that Diavolo’s influence on Lucifer was significant prior to all that unfolding, and it may have eventually happened regardless. It was only a matter of when, not how.

Still, Lucifer be writing checks he may not be able to cash. We also get this foreboding warning from Barbatos in Season 2:

As I’ve said before, the inevitable conflict the story was hinting to at this point doesn’t happen in Season 2. Lucifer isn’t forced to make a choice like this. The Night Dagger didn’t demand it.

I’ve also expressed my belief that Season 2 and Season 3 were likely written back-to-back due to the small window of time between their releases, so I believe details overlooked in Season 2 may suddenly become more relevant in Season 3.

It’s worth remembering Diavolo’s growing feelings for MC -- and Lucifer’s inner conflict about it -- were hinted at early in Season 2, as well. It doesn’t really get going until the conclusion of Season 2, leading into Season 3.

Do I have any clue of what this is actually leading up to? Not at all! If it mirrors Season 2′s format, though, it’ll suddenly come to a head in the last 3-5 lessons. I remember feeling equally clueless then, and Season 2 had a lot more foreshadowing...

... a lot of which actually didn’t pan out! But it might now.

Guardian Angels

Another smaller, but interesting detail. Guardian Angels are indeed a thing.

I think they’re gonna become a thing soon. The devs very sneakily changed a small detail in Season 2, suggesting they might have realized that it may interfere with their plans for later seasons.

Old version.

New version.

I’m thinking they may have decided giving Michael guardianship of an entire swath of the population was cheating, and they may be individualizing the role of Guardian Angels.

Which leads me to who I think Michael’s chosen human squeeze is:

My man has been scoping him out long before we came around.

It makes sense, too. We know Michael gave his Ring of Wisdom to Solomon, which seems to have kickstarted his career as a demon-pacting sorcerer (though he clearly was a sorcerer before this).

This is a very powerful item, described as the Ring of Light’s counterpart, that would be very useful for a high-ranking angel to possess. I don’t think Michael would fork it over to just anyone, particularly when we remember how he felt compelled to interrogate us via dream hi-jack before the Ring of Light fully came into our possession.

Solomon also makes Michael angst in a way a well-meaning but misbehaving child would make their parent angst:

Solomon also really doesn’t seem to regard Michael like some distant, all-powerful alien being who could smite him out of existence.

Contrast this with how he responds when he’s forced to hang out with Diavolo for a day (he gets more comfortable, but he initially wants to punt the responsibility back to Lucifer ASAP).

And he knows a surprising amount of small details about the guy:

I think Solomon is a significant part of Michael’s long-term plans, but he may not even be fully aware of how. Or he is, and they’re in some kind of mutually beneficial agreement -- possibly related to cross-realm peace -- that we simply haven’t been made aware of yet.

Personally, I think Simeon should be made MC’s ‘official’ Guardian Angel if they’re gonna be a thing with official mechanics behind them. I know Michael is supposed to be the Big Cheese and ridiculously hot, so it may make sense to have him linked to the MC of an otome game because they’re super special too, but Michael may already have Solomon. He shouldn’t get to hog everything. It’s not like assigning Simeon to do job would really inconvenience him, either: MC is Solomon’s apprentice. He can easily work with the arrangement.

Luke may feel left out but he’s a kid so...

Seven Brothers Constellation

We learn there’s a constellation representing the brothers in the Celestial Realm. Everyone there knows the legend, but Luke doesn’t know what the three stars ‘watching over them’ represent.

He, Mammon, and Satan begin to theorize and Satan suggests they may represent the three realms. The other two like the idea, and Mammon insists the ‘human’ star represents MC.

He’s probably right, but I’m willing to take it a step further: it represents MC, Diavolo, and Michael. The three “guardians” of their respective realms, and the brothers. Season 3 has been repeatedly beating us over the head with how much Michael still cares for the brothers and his relevance to their upbringing, and likely their future.

It bears repeating: Diavolo and Michael are aiming towards the same goal, though their visions of what peace and harmony looks like may be very different.

Solomon could also qualify as a self-appointed guardian, but I think he lacks the connection to the brothers MC obviously has.

Still, he has the same resolve, and he’s not leaving the story any time soon.

Predictions

I sniff out even the smallest Michael details because he’s clearly the key to whatever is gonna blow up.

This might give us some insight on how the initial dealings with him may unfold:

It’s hard to deduce just what this actually means. Either Michael tends to overthink things that just aren’t that deep (can empathize) and that in itself leads to needless complications, or he’s apt to misread situations and as a result gives poor advice. Or a combination of both.

My initial read on him makes me think that he thinks the best of humans/angels but the worst of demons. He is very, very complimentary towards MC as soon as they start answering his questions.

Am I now? Really?

It could just be the game making characters butter up the MC to make the game more enjoyable for the player of a self-insert character, but dude we just met.

When you tell him you did what you did out of love for Lucifer:

That’s a very telling pause/ellipsis. It’s like his brain momentarily short-circuits and he needs to regain his composure before he continues, and he still doesn’t sound entirely sure of what you just said lol

He also just outright admits he initially thought you must be wicked just because the brothers liked you, and this is a guy who is still fond of them himself. I think he’s having a very hard time with it.

So the inevitable bumps in the roads ahead with him will likely be a result of this, and/or his dad being an asshole. Neither he or Diavolo are actually in charge of the realms they’re overseeing -- they’re both de facto leaders -- so maybe the parents will suddenly barge in and try to knock over their sand castles for whatever reason. It is kind of weird that the exchange program has been agreed to in the first place, particularly on the Celestial Realm’s part.

Regardless, I have no clue what the next arc will be. I know we still have three trials left, but they could combine two again to leave more room for the actual storyline to progress. The climax is going to be the last trial of our sorcerer’s exam, or something happening afterwards. Not sure which one I’m willing to bet on yet: I remember Simeon’s play and the silly Blood Moon contest in Season 2 were what kept use preoccupied for Season 2 until SUDDENLY LUCIFER GETS AMNESIA AND THE WORLD IS IN DANGER AND WE HAVE TO STAB HIM TO SAVE EVERYONE. But they did heavily foreshadow that in the very beginning lol. They just didn’t fill in the blanks until much later.

I wonder what the trial of chastity is gonna be like and how hard we’ll actually fail and the game will need to overcompensate for that

#obey me #obey me!#obey me lesson 52 #obey me spoilers #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me michael #obey me barbatos #analysis #obey me lesson 53 #obey me season 3

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scribblingfangirl · 3 years

Text

WRITTEN WORDS & WHISPERED WISHES | Julie and The Phantoms - Luke Patterson

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Author’s Note: I wrote this fic for an old fandom of mine and thought I could re-write/re-use it to finally get started on my JaTP bingo card (because my creativity and originality are nowhere to be found) - I hope you enjoy, yet I’m still sorry in advance? (song’s Poet by Bastille but slightly adapted by me)

word count: 1.9k

prompt: ‘Song Fic’ on my @jatpbingo bingo card

summary: It took several sleepless nights, days of throwing up and feeling bad and the pressure of cuddling with Luke to finally discover that you were pregnant.

warnings: teen pregnancy, character death, a very hastly scribbeled down fic idea (this was not beta read (or read over in general) so typos, inconsistent grammar and other faboulous little annoyances (if anyone loves to read my fanfics and would like to volunteer as my beta reader I’ll kiss your feet))

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It had been a few weeks since you, well... since you had seen another room rather than your classrooms and your own four walls. You even missed your kitchen and living room. But especially, you missed the boys' studio.

Today, however, has been a good day. You had managed to eat properly without feeling sick and were starting to catch up on some shortly due essays, papers and homework assignments, so you wouldn’t need to do them when feeling utterly sick again.

Luke had come to visit you (or tried to) a few times, needing to use his charm at your door, as you told your parents that you didn’t want him to see you. Your hair was a mess and unkempt, it pained you to stand for a long period of time (so you reduced the times you washed it to a minimum), your eyes had dark circles under them and you were exhausted even if you didn’t do anything the whole day long.

“I brought you food. I know that your fridge only knows like three meals”, he had said once quietly, putting the tray with the steaming meal on your bed, gesturing for you to move a little, so he could sit beside you.

“You mean to say that I and/or my parents only know three meals”, you had coughed laughing and refused to move. You didn’t want him to get sick too.

“No don’t,” you had muttered when he started to push you to the side, “I think I might have a bad bug and Sunset Curve can’t function without its lead vocalist and guitarist. And I can’t eat anyway.”

He had looked at you, confused and concerned. “Still? Alex told me you were able to keep your breakfast in, and I thought that meant you were on your way of improvement.”

“Some illnesses take longer to go away. I just didn’t want you to check on me because things like a normal cold or a little stomach bug can pass without unnecessary medications even if it takes longer.”

That had been two weeks ago. But today, when you were finally looking presentable again and were even able to open the door yourself, it wasn’t Luke that was visiting you.

“Oh… it’s you guys.”

“Geez, thanks Y/N. No need to kill us with all this kindness,” Reggie said laughing and sniffed, “Uh! Smells amazing. Pizza?” Without any hesitation or warning, he entered your house and vanished into the kitchen.

“Pizza? Wow, you must really be feeling better. I remember you throwing up on me a week ago when I tried to feed you chicken soup,” Alex smiled, hands in his pockets and not moving until you invited him in.

“Oh no,” hiding your face in your hands after you closed the door behind you both and groaned. “I’m so sorry about that. Again. Tell me how much the cleaning bill was and I-”

“Chill Y/N, relax. You’ve seen me at my worst and now I’ve seen you at your worst. Sure, I was still way more elegant and not as weak as you, but you just gave me a reason to finally get rid of those shoes.”

“No Alex! You loved those sneakers!” you said horrified.

“Just kidding. Give me 50 bucks and we’re even. Or, you know, better yet, come back to the studio and help us get rid of an overly clingy Luke. Now that you’re better, pleeeease, give him some cuddles!”

You giggled. “You know you have two perfectly fine arms to hug him with as well, right?”

“Yeah!” He said, raising his voice. “But not ALL the time. And I want to be appreciated for myself once too! Not just because I am the only one available to give hugs as an ‘emergency solution’!”

“You make it sound like you actually let us hug you dude, don’t lie,” Reggie muttered through a mouthful of Pizza, throwing himself on your couch.

Throwing Reggie a stink eye Alex turned to you again. “Anyway… You and I will go to the studio now. Yeah?”

“Well”, you stocked, not sure if you could talk to them about it. You had hoped for a few more days to think it over. “You know… It might actually not have been a bad bug, but rather a big bug that I caught.”

At their confused faces, you sighed. “I’m a few days, or even weeks... late”, you mumbled the last part so quietly, you weren’t even sure if they had heard you (if they even knew what you meant).

You were definitely not expecting Reggie to be the one to answer. “Do you want me to drive you to the hospital or do you just want a pregnancy test first?”

You didn’t know who of them had told Luke, or when, but after a few minutes of waiting in the hospital’s waiting room he came barreling in, beanie askew on his head and guitar case on his back. His searching eyes found yours in a haze and you could basically hear the question in his gaze ‘Are you?’. Silently you shook your head, averting your eyes.

Alex offered him his place beside you and Luke grabbed your hand while you waited. A few moments later your name was called and the nurse brought you and Luke to an empty room and told you to wait again. She came back a few minutes later and Luke moved to the side of the bed and held your hand again.

You didn’t feel the cold gel on your belly. Didn’t feel the way Luke was almost crushing your hand in his. Didn’t hear the words the nurse said. You only heard the faint heartbeat of your baby. You were pregnant.

Luke was beaming, looking at the screen where you could see the ultrasound of your baby, but he also looked at you with a little bit of fear in his eyes.

I can't say the words out loud So in a rhyme, I wrote you down Now you'll live through the ages I can feel your pulse in the pages

Even though you were only in your eighth week and not really showing yet, Luke wouldn’t allow you to wear anything else than his oversized hoodies, sweaters, pullovers and flannels (the ones that still had sleeves. And okay, fair enough, it might also have been because he absolutely loved to see you in his clothes.)

He was like an eagle watching over you, flying down as soon as you were doing or were going to do something he didn’t approve of. He even almost convinced his and your parents to move into your room so he could reach you faster in case of an emergency. (It was a clear no from both parents and he even got grounded for that idea - though later on, you learned from Alex that it was because he had said ‘Why not? It’s not like I can impregnate her again!’)

Of course, your parents weren’t happy about the situation, but they weren’t about to throw you out on the street. They both loved you and Luke (after all, they did fall for his charms one to many times), but they never really spoke the words out loud, never really talked about the fact that you two were going to be parents, a family at such a young age.

And Luke and you? While he was acting like an overprotective husband you both weren’t really talking about it either. You both were terrified about the fact that you were going to raise a child while Sunset Curve was trying to make it big, while you were still in High School and it still seemed more like a dream to you both, a dream from which neither of you wanted to wake up and face reality.

That’s why you started to write the letters. Or in Luke’s case - lyrics. Letters to future you’s, letters to your unborn child telling them about your adventures, your experiences and feelings. It was a way to tell yourself all the reasons why it was okay that you were going to be having sleepless nights filled with the cries of a baby, telling you that it was all going to be worth it.

And for the first time, while writing those letters and lyrics, it was as if both you could feel your baby.

Your body lies upon the sheets Of paper in words so sweet I can't say the words So I wrote you into my verse Now you'll live through the ages I can feel your pulse in the pages

Time went by fast. You remembered the first time you felt the little kick very well, as if it was yesterday, but at that time you still could somewhat see your feet and now you couldn’t even stand up anymore without somebody’s help.

School was weird, but you had the boys to help you through it.

You started to draw little babies beside your letters, trying to imagine the different looks it could have. Would it have your hair or Luke’s? His eyes and your nose? Your eyes and his smile?

And then you started to write your letters and lyrics around the baby, making it look like it was cradled by your warm words, hoping that whenever you wouldn’t be able to hold your child, it would be able to read your letters and feel the love, because you surely did.

How could you have known that in just a few weeks these lyrics would be the only words your child would ever ‘hear’ from their father?

I have read you with these eyes I've read you with these eyes I have held you in these hands

You had never seen your parents looking so fragile and broken like the night they came into your room to tell you the boys died.

And then, the next thing you knew was that your son was born. The doctors and nurses said that it was the stress, the emotional overload of being told that your friends, your loves, the father of your child died that caused your water to break.

That’s why it was Bobby and not Luke that was by your side that night and held your hand. It was Bobby, the normally strong and grumpy teenager, that was smiling like a little kid that just got told it would get to eat as much candy as it wanted.

His eyes were glistening with tears as the nurse handed him the little bundle of joy and he started to sway him - Luke - slowly back and forth, knowing that you were too tired to hold him at the moment.

“He is beautiful”, you murmured as he took a seat beside you, his gaze still fixed on his nephew, because obviously, he would be Uncle Bobby (though not for a very long time), “Just like his father.”

You didn’t hear Bobby’s answer as you fell asleep and dreamed of Luke, tucking you in and kissing your forehead before he dedicated himself entirely to the new tiny human in his arms, singing a sweet lullaby.

“We have written you down. Now you will live forever and all the world will hear you and you will live forever. In eyes not yet created, on tongues that are not born, in ears not yet listening. I have written you down, now you will live forever and Sunset Curve will sing about you.”

#luke patterson x reader #julie and the phantoms x reader #jatp #julie and the phantoms #luke patterson #luke patterson imagine #luke patterson one shot #luke patterson oneshot #julie and the phantoms imagine #julie and the phantoms oneshot #julie and the phantoms one shot #jatp imagine #jatp one shot #jatp oneshot #my writing #viascribbles

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ocean-in-my-rebel-soul · 3 years

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Handmade Hearts

A sweet, fluffy commission for @tea42, featuring their genderfluid Jurian Hawke (he/they) and Anders! Also, bonus Merrill and Anders friendship!

Handmade Hearts (read on AO3)

Characters/Relationships: Genderfluid!Hawke/Anders, Merrill & Anders

Rating: T

Words: 2,632

Tags: Knitting, fluff, romantic fluff

Anders learns to knit and finds it extremely rewarding.

The fire burns cheerfully in the main room of Merrill’s home, keeping warm against the rainy day outside. Dried herbs and flowers scattered upon the cinders perfume the air with a delicate sweetness, the perfect accompaniment to the long-cold tea set and a small plate of cookies that sit on the table between Anders and the hearth. The snaps and crackles of the hearth break up the quietness of the room; Merrill hums from her bedroom, the open door letting it float to his ears where he sits on the sofa.

Anders readjusts the deep red working yarn over his hand. He can’t help the way his hands want to cramp, or that his tongue sticks out from between his teeth. A length of lumpy knitting drapes from between the four needles, something that might become a sock but is still yet far from it. Frowning, he calls out, “Are you sure I’m doing this right?”

“Hm?” Merrill pops her head out through the doorway. “Oh, I’m sure you are,” she says airily, dismissing his worry with a wave of her hand. “You are an excellent student, Anders.”

“‘Excellent student’ my arse,” Anders mutters. He’s half-tempted to rip it all apart and start over. Again. The motley yarn is relatively soft but inconsistently spun, a fact he’s been wrestling with for hours. “You didn’t see me in the Circle.”

“You’re so smart, you couldn’t have done too badly.” She returns with a project of her own, a half-woven… something stretched out on some sort of loom and an armload of small yarn balls. Merrill sits on the floor beside him and sets her contraption up against the table. It’s built of scraps, small bits of wood tacked and nailed together into a frame and the various other bits of it. Thin strings run the length of it and hold up a section of the variegated blue weave.

He watches her from over his misshapen sock. You couldn’t have done too badly. If only that were the half of it, he thinks, but he keeps that locked tight behind his teeth. No need to drag her down with him, or any of them, for that matter. Anders has tried to let go of the fierce jealousy, the rage that simmers in his gut when he thinks about it too hard, but it just sits there and curdles. He had overheard once, from the whispers of templars too loose with their tongues, that the Dalish mages were wild, almost feral; that they were simply too dangerous to try to bring into the Circle. Apparently, a friend of a friend of a colleague of someone they’d trained with had been killed by a Dalish clan when they tried to capture one of their young mages, and to hear it told in the frigid corridors of the Kinloch Circle, the clan had sent that knight back to the Circle in a crate.

Merrill smiles to herself absently as she threads the shuttle through the warps, building up the next row of soft blue. It’s so serene, too much so compared to the way he’d watched her suffocate a man to death with thick, thorny vines just the week before. He’s very glad for the tenuous olive branch of peace between them, more for Jurian’s sake than anything, but he’s still glad.

“Oh, you’re holding it too tightly,” she murmurs.

Anders jolts back into himself to find her frowning softly at his knitting. Dismayed, he sees exactly where he’d gone wrong; the thin yarn draws the already bumpy fabric into a bunched-up wrinkle, and he’s let the stitches slip and go wonky. Anders tosses the mess onto the sofa behind him and buries his face in his hands, fighting down the urge to scream. “I am a Maker-damned surgeon,” he bites out. “Why can’t I get this?”

The sofa shifts and creaks when she perches upon it. “I think we can fix it,” she says, like it’s easy, and Anders peeks out from behind his hands. Merrill picks up the discarded sock, or what this third attempt tries to pass as being a sock, and eyes it, prodding here and poking there. Her deft fingers wrangle it back to being mostly flat, not a small victory. She realigns the knitting needles for him before handing it all back.

“Here,” she says, and Merrill takes his hands in hers. The shallow scars that mar her palms press into the backs of his hands. It’s an immense effort not to shudder at the way they brush his skin as she repositions his fingers over the needles and shifts the working yarn. “There, that should help.”

He looks dubiously at his project but works the next stitch, then the next, and then the next, until he’s got another row down. “Oh,” he says, relieved, “that actually does help. Thank you.” When Anders looks up, Merrill wears a soft expression, a tiny little smile so different than the one she usually wears for him. “You’re really good at this,” Anders mutters. He looks away, unable to take in the surprised gratitude in her expression, knowing that he’s rarely as kind as he could be, should be toward her and too cowardly to admit it.

Anders puts the haggard sock down long enough to trace small glyphs upon his palms with his fingertips and grabs the cold ceramic teapot from the table. He focuses intently on his hands and a moment later warmth builds; in the span of a few breaths the tea is hot again. Merrill watches him from the corner of her eye as she works on her own weaving, and when he pours her a fresh cup, she smiles brightly at him.

It’s a new, fragile peace, but it’s theirs, for as long as he can manage it. They sit and chat and work into the late afternoon and Merrill eventually teaches him how to finish it, to wrangle the messy bits into a semblance of proper, useful purpose. It isn’t until night truly approaches and the rain pours down in sharp, heavy sheets that he packs away his project. He leaves with a bag heavy with his gifted supplies and a heart all the lighter for it.

-------

“That’s almost right,” Anders mutters to himself, relaxing further into the plush cushions of the sofa. His hair is still damp from the frantic walk back to the estate, but he’s long forgotten the dwindling flames of the hearth. He slips the last few stitches off his needles and reworks them, only to sigh and pull them apart again. Anders frowns at the pinched area in question. “How did she do that, again…?”

A voice breaks through the quiet solitude of the den. “What are you working on, love?”

Anders scrambles and drops the half-finished sock altogether in his fumbling. Jurian leans over the back of the sofa to hug him from behind, their chin resting on his shoulder. “Knickerweasels, Jurian, you surprised me!” Anders tilts his head to rub their cheeks together, the stretch a bit awkward for a kiss but still wanting the contact. “Didn’t expect you back yet.”

“Got home early. Mind if I join you?” Jurian murmurs. They lay a kiss on his temple and round the couch when he nods, reclining against the arm to watch him.

“Well, it seems the cat’s already out of the bag.” He retrieves the wayward sock from the floor and shows it off. “Your birthday’s coming up, and I thought…” He trails off at the way Jurian stares, blank-faced, at the sock. “I thought it’d be nice to make you something,” Anders finishes weakly, unsure. “A—a surprise.”

Jurian lets out a shaky sigh. “Come here?”

Anders goes immediately, and Jurian’s arms are strong and secure where they wrap around his ribs and hold him to their chest. “What’s that face for?” he asks against their collarbone. “Do you not like it?”

They nuzzle his hair, and they’re so quiet that Anders can hear their heartbeat. “It’s been a while since anyone made me something, let alone for a birthday,” Jurian eventually says. They hum. “I think… I think maybe it was Bethy; she knit a scarf for me, the winter before the blight.”

“That was years ago…”

“Yeah,” they mutter. “Mother… Mother would make us things through the year—scarves, socks, mittens, things like that. But after Father died… She got so busy, selling her skills to the others in town. Mother’s a rather brilliant embroiderer, you know, and she took to other fiber crafts like a fish to water. But she got so busy that she was tired, all the time. It was all she could do to keep up with the work, it was hard enough to take care of us.” They pause. “I don’t mean she wasn’t a good mother, but… She just wasn’t the same after Father died.”

“So Bethany took on that job.”

“Pretty much. Carver enlisted in the militia as soon as he was old enough; it was good money and good training, and no one could blame him. I had to run the house when Mother couldn’t and so I took a job closer to home, to keep an eye on things.”

To keep an eye on Bethany, Jurian doesn’t say, but Anders hears it all the same.

Anders presses a row of kisses along the column of their throat. “You deserve all the softest things, Jurian,” he murmurs into their skin. “You deserve everything.” Anders pulls back, not quite lifting from where he lay draped across their chest, just enough to shyly look them in the face. “Do you want to see them? I’ve finished the first one. You could—could try it on, if you wanted. Actually, if you could make sure it fits, that would be great.”

Jurian kisses the tip of Anders’ nose. “I’d love that.”

Anders gets up from his comfy perch and reaches over the couch to snag his project bag. He yelps; Jurian’s hand rubs against his rear, soothing the playful smack they’d just left as he bent over. “You’re a menace, my love,” Anders laughs, and he leans back into the plush cushions. He fishes the finished sock from the bag; the main red coloring is deep, almost more black than anything else, but it’s offset by streaks of gold-ish yellow that Merrill had helped him with. “It’s a little… rough,” he allows. “The yarn is mostly scraps and discards. And I’m not very good yet—”

“It’s perfect,” Jurian whispers, taking it in hand. Their fingers rub against the wool; it’s still a little scratchy, at least to Anders’ sensitive skin. The sock crushes in their hand and comes out just fine, and Anders smiles.

“Try it on?” he coaxes.

Jurian snorts but dutifully takes off their slipper and rolls up the leg of their trousers. Anders isn’t sure who’s more nervous as they slide it on, himself or Jurian, but it’s worth the nerves to see the way Jurian’s face lights up at the way it sits halfway up their calf. “It’s beautiful,” they say. “Perfect. Just like you, Anders.”

A warmth builds in Anders’ chest at that, and he blushes, looking away to dodge the weight of their quiet declaration. “I—well. Not perfect, certainly, but—”

“No.” Jurian shifts to face him. Their brow pinches and a soft frown pulls at their mouth. “My love, I cannot help the way you feel about yourself,” they start, and they crawl forward, slowly pressing Anders onto his back. “But please don’t try to qualify my feelings for you.” One hand holds a position just above Anders’ head and the other clutches the arm of the couch behind him. They lean down. “I say you are perfect because to me you are perfect.”

Anders sighs into the kiss. Jurian’s weight above him makes the fluttery thing in his gut settle. His hands wind into Jurian’s hair, anchoring them together, and the pressure of teeth nipping at his bottom lip draws a moan from him. It’s not rushed, it’s not frantic, but it is thorough—teeth and lips and tongue, hot, scorching breath and soft gasps that hitch between them. He wraps his legs around Jurian’s own, hooking his knees over the back of their thighs, but Jurian doesn’t stop the slow, methodical work of taking him apart.

It’s too much. It’s not enough. It’s lightning in his veins, velvet on his skin. He makes a noise, a punched-out little whine, at the blissful sensory overload. They part enough for Anders to nudge his forehead against Jurian’s own, and the face they make is so sweet it makes him ache. Anders has to fight to gather his thoughts again, cheeks flushing at the way Jurian lay between his thighs. “You drive me crazy,” he groans. Jurian grins and bends to dust light kisses just at the edges of his mouth.

“Good,” they say, “means I’m doing something right.” The breath of their gentle chuckle is warm against Anders’ reddened cheeks. “Thank you.”

It takes Anders a full ten seconds to place what for. He follows Jurian’s wandering mouth and kisses them sweetly, his hands coming up to cup their face. His thumb drags along the rise of their cheekbone. “You deserve it,” Anders murmurs. “I mean it. You deserve it, and more, more than some socks—and I promise to make you everything I can, to take care of you the best I can. But you’re welcome, for the socks.”

“You do, too, love.” They smile and lean down to press kisses along his hairline, over his brow, along the ridge of his nose. Their lips brush over every inch of his face before returning to his mouth and Anders can’t feel anything over the sheer vastness of everything blooming in his chest, security and desire and yearning and things he can’t even begin to name feeding the growing warmth in his belly when Jurian next speaks. “And I’m going to show you, care for you, in every way I know how.”

His breath escapes him with a shuddering sigh at the low promise. “Ah, you keep talking like that and I won’t be able to get anything done on the other sock…”

Jurian hums against his cheek. “I think maybe we can be done with knitting for the night?” they suggest, nosing along his jaw. Jurian presses a kiss just below the hinge of Anders’ jaw. “Haven’t seen you in three days. I missed you.”

“A dreadfully long time, that,” Anders wheezes. His hands clench in Jurian’s hair and it’s a hard decision, staying like this or following the possibility in their words. The anticipation wins out, helped by the desire that simmers in Jurian’s gaze. His heart thumps painfully in his chest. “I think I’m a bit knitted out, actually. Think I can be persuaded into something else.”

Jurian laughs at that. They help Anders off the couch and wrap him in their arms again. “You’re going to be mismatched until I finish the other one, you know,” he says helpfully, and Jurian grins.

“I’m not worried.” They brush their noses together in a butterfly kiss. “You can take your time. I can wait.”

“I can’t,” Anders murmurs, catching Jurian’s gaze meaningfully. He looks off in the direction of the stairs and back in open invitation, and it takes exactly two seconds for Jurian to walk him backward toward the door. Together they manage to stumble from the den, draped along each other, arms wrapped around ribcages, unwilling to part even for a moment as they make their way upstairs. Anders leads them into the bedroom and closes the door behind him with a satisfied sigh.

“Now,” he says, cupping Jurian’s jaw, “let me show you how much I missed you.”

#Handers #Hawke #Anders #Genderfluid!Hawke #Dragon Age 2 #DA2 #fanfic #fanfiction #commissions #writing commissions #ocean writes #soulrebel writes #reblogs comments and likes welcome and highly appreciated! thank you!

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mikanyuzu-26 · 3 years

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Is Chapter 139 of Attack on Titan being messed up deliberately?

*Views are my own. I barely post anything on social media but I feel the need to express my thoughts as a long-term AOT fan.

You need to be a genius in getting everything wrong. As a reader who has been following the series for 8 years, the frustration and disappointment the recent chapters brought me are beyond words. The series Attack on Titan has long been known for its well written plotline, with pieces of hints eventually leading to the reveal of mysteries, ranging from the identity of enemies to the origin of titan. Isayama the author is more than capable in building a story, as evidenced by the carefully arranged setups and successful characterization in 130+ chapters. Probably echoed by other readers, the story surprisingly went downhill since Chapter 124 (aka the alliance arc) when pacing becomes slow with no major progress in overall plot. Eren who is the supposedly main protagonist is nowhere to be found in most of the chapters, let alone his inner thought. The conclusion in Chapter 139 is even more confusing, showing clear disconnection with previous chapters and major characters being OOC. There are fans who are kind enough to summarize the inconsistencies.

Chinese netizens’ comment on the story quality

I would interpret the bad writing in Chapter 139 as intentional, with two possible reasons, or both: 1). To betray and hurt the readers as expressed in his interview. He is free! 2). To passively protest against a plot change by his editorial team

“I was a big fan of Game of Thrones, so I can relate to the feelings of those fans who were disappointed with how the series ended. But when I’m drawing, I’m expressing my own feelings, and I think as long as I’m doing that, my fans will be able to accept whatever ending I come up with for them”. The question is – was Isayama hinting at a GOT-like ending that expressed his true feeling? Looking at his response at this point of time, was he foreshadowing a disappointment?

Personally I am a believer of (2) – the plot was hijacked. I see the pacing issue starting from Chapter 124 as Isayama and the editorial team trying to buy time in reconstructing the plot. This is the period when multiple minor subplots (e.g. Connie’s mom, Aruani, conflicts with Yeagerists like Daz, formation of Alliance, Reiner’s mom & Annie’s dad) are introduced and closed off shortly after, while Eren is nowhere to be found.

Also note that Isayama did not even show up in the interview/live stream after the end of the manga in on Apr 10 and Apr 14, 2021. The editor represented him instead. It was also revealed in the most recent live stream that the editorial team had quite a lot of influence over the plot, in which they changed the last few pages of Chapter 139.

As many of you have already raised, early chapters already mentioned the “only way to put a final end to the cycle of revenge” is to do a full rumbling. I believe this is the first draft of the ending of the story as this idea has been expressed more than once directly out of the mouth of Eren.

The other possible change is the way of how Ymir is being freed. In earlier chapter, Eren clearly understands what Ymir has been waiting for 2000 years in Chapter 122, and this is also the reason why Eren is able to start the rumbling in the first place. The possibility of Mikasa freeing Ymir is not being introduced until Chapter 138 (or 139), and certainly comes out of nowhere as the only people outside of path who have seen Ymir are Armin and Ramzi.

How is Chapter 139 being intentionally messed up? The inconsistencies above suggest that at least two plot twists are only being decided at the very late stage of the story. • Eren’s true intention (Eren Requiem vs. full rumbling) and the reasons behind • What Ymir wants

Throughout Chapter 139, there are definitely better choice of words which even average Reddit/Twitter/Tumblr users were able to re-write in the past few days. However Isayama just somehow chose the worst way in presenting the story as if it is a shoutout to readers. The presentation also makes Chapter 139 memorable, though not in a way most have expected.

“Why Mikasa?” “Well…only Ymir knows that one…” When I reread Chapter 139, it seems to me that Isayama is not trying to shy away from admitting the plot change. The disbelief from Armin’s way of saying “Huh? Did you just say Mikasa?” is an analogy to the readers’ reaction due to the lack of interaction between Ymir and Mikasa before the last panel of Chapter 138. Eren is also drawn with a resigned expression. If this is an over interpretation of the frame, Eren’s next response “Well…only Ymir knows that one…” directly points out how the statement lacks a clear and sound reasoning. You can translate it into “Well…only [the company/my editor] knows that one…” or “Nothing I just want to throw this in”. Isayama clearly knows what he is writing and indeed “only Ymir knows that one” becomes a meme.

Also to add that prior to Chapter 139, Ymir has always been a parallel of Historia/Krista, not Mikasa, even as early as Chapter 51, but this plot was just somehow nowhere to be found eventually.

Why Rumbling? The most disastrous consequence of a plot change, from wiping all history and civilization (that has been repeated in his conversation with Historia in Chapter 130 and his internal monologue in Chapter 131) to an Eren Requiem, is that it takes away all the justification and rationale for Eren to eliminate 80% of the population in the first place. Whether or not Eren executes the rumbling and dies willingly, the world will still be in conflict and future generation will remain in the forest. If the plan is to free Ymir, a better way is probably just asking Mikasa to chop his head off. That saves humanity (Ymir likes drama, after all!).

Isayama could have easily used phrases like “I just want to move forward” but he put “I don’t know why, but…I wanted to do that…I had to”. This is also Isayama speaking from the Eren – he does not know why Eren is doing rumbling just to achieve the 80% plan. He just “had to” draw it.

“10 Years, At least!” This is probably the most debatable and dramatic part of the chapter. Eren expresses his love to Mikasa but the scene is presented in a way as if it is a kid throwing a tantrum. In addition to that there is Armin’s comment “Oh ok…I didn’t expect something that pathetic..” as if it is again, the readers’ comment. The scene is portrayed in an unbelievably comedic way, especially when you compare it with Eren’s conversation with Ramzi in Chapter 131, which is supposed to serve the same purpose in showing Eren’s human/soft side. Most importantly, freedom has always been Eren’s core value throughout the series. The outright contradiction this line shows only makes the whole idea of this panel questionable.

Character Regression Needless to say, characters’ behaviours surprisingly regress back to the first arc, wiping out all developments throughout the series. The worst thing is it even kills the hype of re-reading the manga as you know the characters never grow, after all the sufferings and hearts sacrificed. Examples include: • Eren is still a crybaby • Mikasa remains trapped by her relationship with Eren and the scarf • Historia is not living proudly for herself after the Uprising arc • Reiner sniffs Historia’s letter after going through depression and wars (there is even a petition online asking Isayama to change this! You see how problematic this is.) • Jean and the horse joke

Almost everything that could possibly go wrong is wrong in 1 chapter These are written by the man who have been writing good chapters in the past 10 years. Can you believe it is just a lack of sense?

• “Thank you. You became a mass murderer for our sake.” • The “poop” that Armin gives Eren (Isayama likes using meme right? :P) • Eren’s face when he is punched

Is this the High School AU style?

Compared to Chapter 112...You can tell the difference.

The way how the fandom views Chapter 139 is certainly very divided, but even amongst those who like it, most still think “things could have done better” (source: SNK Chapter 139 Poll), showing how awkward the style is compared to previous chapters. The inconsistencies in character portrayal and plot are too hard to ignore. It pains me to see a well-constructed and reputable series, one step away from legend even just with an average ending, closed with a chapter that almost defeats the purpose of the rest. Trust in Isayama – while he can build a legend in 10 years, he can also take it down with 1 chapter.

By the way, Levi is one of the few characters who isn’t ruined. Probably also a conscious choice.

#snk 139 #aot 139 #aot spoilers #aot analysis #attack on titan #isayama #shingeki no kyojin #eren #snk spoilers #hajime isayama #snk analysis

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not-wholly-unheroic · 3 years

Text

On the Origins of Hook: The Complicated and Often Contradictory Backstory of a Villain

The story of Peter Pan has been told and retold in writing, on the stage, and on the big screen countless times, yet in the original storyline, we are thrust into a world with a pre-established (and presumably long-standing) relationship between its hero and villain with little information regarding their pasts. So far as the audience is concerned, Peter and Hook have always been a part of the Neverland...yet as evidenced by the many retellings that attempt to answer the question of these characters’ origins, clearly, people want to know more. Barrie, however, leaves a great deal to the imagination and while he tackles a bit of Peter’s past in The Little White Bird, there is significantly less information about Hook in his writings, and much of it is up for debate, as Barrie arguably contradicts himself.

In terms of canon (which for the purposes of this article I am limiting to Barrie’s final published version of the novel), much of what we know about Hook can only be inferred from a few brief passages. In the initial introduction of the pirates, Barrie gives us the following description of Hook:

In the midst of them, the blackest and largest in that dark setting, reclined James Hook, or as he wrote himself, Jas. Hook, of whom it is said he was the only man that the Sea-Cook feared. He lay at his ease in a rough chariot drawn and propelled by his men, and instead of a right hand he had the iron hook with which ever and anon he encouraged them to increase their pace. As dogs this terrible man treated and addressed them, and as dogs they obeyed him. In person he was cadaverous and blackavized, and his hair was dressed in long curls, which at a little distance looked like black candles, and gave a singularly threatening expression to his handsome countenance. His eyes were of the blue of the forget-me-not, and of a profound melancholy, save when he was plunging his hook into you, at which time two red spots appeared in them and lit them up horribly. In manner, something of the grand seigneur still clung to him, so that he even ripped you up with an air, and I have been told that he was a raconteur [storyteller] of repute. He was never more sinister than when he was most polite, which is probably the truest test of breeding; and the elegance of his diction, even when he was swearing, no less than the distinction of his demeanour, showed him one of a different cast from his crew. A man of indomitable courage, it was said that the only thing he shied at was the sight of his own blood, which was thick and of an unusual colour. In dress he somewhat aped the attire associated with the name of Charles II, having heard it said in some earlier period of his career that he bore a strange resemblance to the ill-fated Stuarts; and in his mouth he had a holder of his own contrivance which enabled him to smoke two cigars at once. But undoubtedly the grimmest part of him was his iron claw.

From this, we may be able to draw a few conclusions about who Hook was before he came to the island. (1) He was likely a sailor, if not a pirate, BEFORE he met Peter, given that he had previous interactions with “The Sea Cook”--that is, Long John Silver. (2) He was alive and most likely an adult by the mid 1700s, as in Treasure Island, Billy Bones--a former crewmate of Silver’s--has the date 1745 in his log and the dates 1750 and 1754 on his treasure maps. (3) Hook’s hairstyle and fashion is similar to that of Charles II, whose reign ended with his death in 1685.

We are also informed by John that Hook was supposed to have been Blackbeard’s bosun. Blackbeard was born somewhere around 1680 and may have been a privateer earlier in his career at sea, but he didn’t actually take up piracy until 1716 and had only a very brief reign of terror before he was killed off the coast of North Carolina in 1718. Assuming Hook was meant to be Blackbeard’s bosun after he went pirate, this gives us a pretty narrow window of time during which Hook might have interacted with him. And, if we take the comment about the Sea Cook seriously, then Hook must have been pretty young at the time he worked for Blackbeard, given that there is a twenty-seven year gap between Blackbeard’s death and the earliest date Billy Bones offers in connection with Silver.

Hook also uses words and phrases such as, “Pan, who and what art thou?” which would seem to indicate that he is from a time period centuries before the Darlings come to visit. (“Thee” and “thou” had pretty much completely fallen out of common use in English by the late 1700s/early 1800s.)

So far, so good. The dates might make it a bit of a stretch, but we can pretty comfortably say that prior to Neverland, Hook was a sailor--and probably a pirate--during the 1700s, was likely born in the late 1600s, and was possibly a related to Charles II, who had many illegitimate children. This possibility fits nicely with Barrie’s statement that, “Hook was not his true name. To reveal who he really was would even at this date set the country in a blaze.”

We don’t know much about his parentage, however, except that Hook’s voice cracks when he is speaking to Smee about mothers regarding the neverbird’s refusal to leave her eggs even after the nest falls into the water. Whether this is because he was close to his own mother and is lamenting her loss or he had a rather indifferent (or even cruel) mother and he is lamenting his own lack of a loving childhood is up for debate, though the official sequel, Peter Pan in Scarlet--written in 2006 by Geraldine McCaughrean--favors the second interpretation. (Again, however, for the purposes of this article, I am only considering Barrie’s published novel as canon.)

We also learn that Hook attended Eton, a rather prestigious school for boys between the ages of thirteen and eighteen. Assuming Hook completed his schooling there and was, therefore, at least eighteen by the time he joined up with Blackbeard, it would place his being born somewhere close to 1700. Assuming his interaction with Long John Silver was, at the earliest, probably around 1745, and that this interaction happened prior to his visiting the Neverland, it puts Hook (physically) at approximately age 45 by the time we meet him in the book, give or take a bit.

There are two potential problems with that timeline, however. (1) In Barrie’s original novel, only Peter stays young forever. The boys can technically grow up, and Peter “thins them out” when they do. (Decide for yourself whether that means banishment or something worse.) If this is the case, Hook shouldn’t still be alive or, even if the aging process is slowed down, at the very least, he should be an old man, given that the Darlings visit in the early 1900s...making him at least two hundred years old. (2) Near the end of the book, when Hook is trying to convince the boys to join his pirate crew and John asks innocently whether they would still be loyal subjects of the king, Hook responds with, “You would have to swear, ‘Down with King George!’” John (and likely the audience) assumes here that Hook is talking about King George V, who would have been the present king of England at the time the novel was published. If this is the case, how does Hook know who the king is? Has he been able to leave the island and find out this information? Or is Hook, perhaps, from a more modern era than we suspect? Cleverly, Barrie leaves this question open-ended, as Hook could just as easily have been referring to King George the First, who ruled England from 1714 until 1727.

As for personal hobbies, we know only that he loves flowers and plays the harpsichord--an instrument that was once quite popular but which had fallen out of favor by the 1800s, replaced by the piano.

The rest of the information we get from Barrie about Hook’s origins comes primarily from his “Hook at Eton” speech, delivered in 1927--many years after his original play (1904) and novel (1911). And here’s where things get interesting (read: contradictory). Because he wrote the speech so many years later, as a sort of afterthought, and because of the inconsistences with the novel, I personally reject this information as canon. Nevertheless, it is Barrie’s take on his own character and, therefore, is worth at least considering.

In this work, we are told that Hook not only attended Eton but also--at least briefly--went to Oxford. This in and of itself poses no major problems for the timeline suggested by the novel. What DOES pose a problem, however, is the fact that Barrie claims to have been in contact with Hook’s “Aunt Emily”--apparently his closest surviving relative--and has been in search of possible photographs of Hook during his time there. This would indicate that Hook MUST be from a much later, more modern era than the book suggests, as photography didn’t really come into fashion until the mid-1800s, and even if “Aunt Emily” is quite old (and she is likely a good fifteen to twenty years OLDER than Hook if we assume she is near in age to one of his parents) at the time of Barrie’s supposed meeting with her, she couldn’t have reasonably been expected to have been born before the early 1800s, placing Hook’s own birth nearer to the 1850s. While some of the information in the novel might be explained away to fit with this date (his choice of dress and hairstyle, for instance), he could not possibly have interacted with Blackbeard or Long John Silver. In fact, he could not have been a pirate--at least, not in the traditional sense--at all, as the Golden Age of Piracy (1650s--1730s) had long passed and the Age of Sail ended in the 1860s. Because of this inconsistency, some have argued that Barrie may have intended Hook to be a more modern man who essentially became trapped in a child’s fantasy land. He became a “pirate” only AFTER his interactions with Pan--that is, he took on the role of a villain because that is how Peter and the children imagined him--and that John’s assertions about his interactions with Blackbeard and Silver are merely rumors that the boy has heard.

Setting aside this apparent contradiction in the timeline, we DO learn some other interesting facts about Hook. For instance, Hook’s blood (which was said in the novel to be thick and strangely colored), is specified as having been yellow. This, along with his appearance having been described in the novel as “cadaverous” has lead some to conclude that Hook was likely rather sickly as a child. We also learn that Hook enjoyed the Lake poets and strawberry mess (a dessert), collected keys, performed well in sports while at Eton (though he did not like water sports as he rather surprisingly hated the feeling of water on his skin), and played the flute. We also learn that he was politically conservative and was probably never in a romantic relationship.

There are a few other bits of information about Barrie’s idea of Hook that can be found in the early manuscripts for the play, which feature “deleted scenes.” One such manuscript--the earliest, I believe--can be found here. (Though good luck with reading it without going cross-eyed because Barrie’s handwriting is BAD.) However, I think this post has gone on long enough, yet we are still left with many unanswered questions. But perhaps this is what Barrie intended all along. Perhaps, fittingly, we are ultimately left to fill in the blanks about this villain of the Neverland with our own imagination.

_____

Thanks to @katherinenotgreat for asking me to do a post on Hook’s origins. Thanks also to @concordia-cum-sinistro for your input. Feel free to add your own information regarding the original manuscript drafts, as I know you are more familiar with them than I am.

#peter pan #captain hook #captain james hook #james hook #jm barrie

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dontmindmyshadowhunting · 3 years

Text

Kit and Ty’s reunion (Fan Fiction) - Part 8 - What’s the point?

A little more than three years after the Dark Artifices. Characters based on Cassandra Clare’s (TSC) though I invented one for the plot.

With the Cohort threat being mostly quashed, the following weeks passed uneventfully.

The Centurions remained at the New York Institute, as there were still other Cohort members and Faeries looking for Kit.

Kit and Ty never mentioned the fight they had had on the first day Ty had arrived at the Institute. Their friendship resumed; major events left unspoken.

It was as it had been before they had performed necromancy spells together. As if they had not raised Livvy’s ghost (except for the fact that they were seeing her every day). As if they had not lost all contact for three years. As if they had not kissed under the rain.

Kit still remembered though. How Ty’s lips had felt against his, the taste of his mouth. Rain, metal and musk. Kit could not forget the feel of Ty’s skin under his fingers, under his lips, the scent of him, the noises Ty made when he was aroused. He blushed, sometimes, thinking back to those intimate moments he had shared with Ty. And of course, there were the glances they cast at each other, the shiver of excitement when their hands accidently brushed, when they walked side by side and their shoulders touched.

Kit had started helping Ty with his missions for the Scholomance, and it was as if Sherlock had found Watson again.

“How many times do I have to repeat myself? I am not your Watson” had said Kit one evening, when they were doing research on demons’ poisons in the Institute’s library.

Ty had smiled one of his rare smiles. “Well, Kit, that’s exactly what my Watson would say.” And Kit had blushed at the way Ty had naturally said “my Watson”.

Days went by, and everyone at the Institute carried on with their own routines.

This is probably why no one expected the events that occurred that evening.

Kit was returning to his bedroom after a late-night training session. He heard noise coming from the library. He stopped to peer inside, his brows furrowed, only to see Jace standing with his back to him. He thought he saw a flash of red hair.

“Jace?” called Kit.

Jace froze. When he slowly turned, Kit could see that he was carrying Clary in his arms. She looked fast asleep.

Kit felt an increasing uneasiness. Something was wrong. But this was Jace right? If there was anyone Jace would never, ever hurt, it was Clary.

“Jace? Rough night? I know Clary is probably light as feather but do you… need a hand?” asked Kit, unsure how to act.

As Jace said nothing, he took a step toward him.

Jace took a step back. Something was very wrong indeed.

“Stop! It’s not Jace!” yelled a voice that Kit instantly recognized.

Kit turned to where Ty stood, in the doorway, holding two daggers. His face was covered in scratches, his lips bruised, a deep red cut on his upper lip. He clearly had been into a fight.

“Not Jace from this world,” Ty continued. “It’s probably Jace from another world. That’s one of the few possible explanations at least.”

“How do you know?” asked Kit.

“Details” was all Ty said. And Kit believed him. If anyone – save for Clary, where Jace was concerned – could notice small inconsistencies, like in a game of Spot the Difference, it was Ty. Ty could see objectively, without the blurring curtain of expectations or preconceptions.

Jace – well, his evil doppelganger – stiffened. “Will you make me regret I didn’t kill you?”

“You didn’t give my friends that chance. They trusted you and you took them by surprise. Why spare me?” said Ty.

“I didn’t fool you” said the fake Jace. “I figured you probably knew Jace, the one from this world, very well. And I saw the heron-shaped pendant you carry around your neck. I thought this meant you had earnt the love – or at least the trust – of a Herondale. Sentimental me.”

“Leave Clary. And we will not hurt you,” said Kit, although he carried no weapon.

Jace laughed. He had moved to stand close to an open window and seemed ready to pounce. He would not try to jump with Clary in his arms, would he?

“You will not hurt me? The Jace from this world must be too soft, if you think you can bargain with me.”

In a swift movement, he had shifted Clary’s body in one of his arms and drawn out a sword.

It all happened in a blur. The sword flew. Ty launched himself in front of Kit and the blow hit him with such force that he was thrown back against Kit, who caught him in his arms. Kit crumpled to the floor, holding Ty.

Kit was filled with a dreadful sense of déjà-vu, as he looked at the knife protruding from Ty’s chest. He had not been there at the time, but he imagined that was what Livvy must have looked like in the Council Hall. He had imagined it, although he had tried not too, often enough. And he was probably in the exact same position Julian had been at the time.

Kit was barely aware of the sound of footsteps and shouts. People around him assessing the situation. It seemed the “other Jace” had somehow escaped. Without his prey. Clary was safe.

“No, Ty. No. Please don’t leave me.”

Kit was kneeling on the floor, carrying Ty’s limp body in his arms. He started rocking.

“What’s the point, Ty? What’s the point of Watson’s whole existence if there is no Sherlock? What’s the point of me if there is no you?” Tears were rolling down his cheeks. But he could not feel them. He could not feel anything.

Kit did not even bother to grab for his stele, he knew it was too late for that. Through his numbness, Kit gently lay Ty’s body on the floor and ripped his shirt. With desperate hope, he placed both his hands on Ty’s chest and willed him to heal. He remembered the time he had made the horses of the Riders of Mannan disappear. He thought about drawing that strength, all his strength, all his will, into healing Ty. He heard voices softly murmuring to let go of Ty, that it was over – but he did not listen to any of them. He shoved away anyone’s attempt to grab him.

He did not know how much time had passed but eventually, he felt a flicker of movement. It was barely there but Kit knew he had sensed something.

Ty gasped and his silver-gray eyes flew open. They widened in amazement. “Kit…“ he said. “I knew you would find them.”

What? What did I find? Kit wanted to ask. But he could not find his voice. Relief had washed over him, and although he was drained, he felt giddy with it.

He did not hear anything further, as Ty slipped into unconsciousness a second later. It was not long before Kit himself collapsed on top of Ty’s body.

*****

Jace, carrying Clary in his arms, Isabelle, Simon, Alec and Magnus stood in a circle in the Institute’s library. In the middle of the circle, two bodies were lying on the ground, one resting partly on top of the other, as if in a lovers’ embrace. Their skin appeared to glow from within and one of the boys’ exposed chest seemed to be pierced through with bronze-colored light.

*****

It was late in the night when the dean of the Scholomance, Maximilien Verlac, slipped through the door of the Institute’s infirmary. The room was mostly dark save for the moonlight filtering through the windows. He did not notice Kit, sitting on the floor, next to Ty’s bed.

He was entirely focused on Ty, his expression one of deep sorrow and… something else. Kit recognized that look. It was the look he probably had himself when he was glancing at Ty and thought no one was seeing him.

Kit knew then, that Maximilien did not only admire Ty as one of his best Centurions. He loved him.

Suddenly, Maximilien fell on his knees. “Oh, Tiberius. What did I do? I am sorry. I am so sorry,” he whispered.

Kit shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine.”

Maximilien snapped out of his daze and stood. Even in the darkness, Kit could see his cheeks were flushed. “Christopher Herondale.”

“Kit, please” answered Kit.

“Kit?” Maximilien’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, I see…”

Kit didn’t know why, but he suddenly felt uneasy.

“What is it? What is it that you see?”

Maximilien hesitated. He looked at Kit for a moment, considering.

Then, he explained, in a resigned voice. “One day, Tiberius returned from a mission to the Scholomance with very deep wounds that couldn’t heal. The demon poison had spread. We had to keep him in the infirmary for three days. He was delirious. He kept calling a name. Your name. Asking why you had left him. Why you never said goodbye. He also talked about the characters of the book he holds so dearly…saying that Sherlock was not Sherlock without Watson. It seemed like nonsense to me.”

Maximilien exhaled deeply. “I thought Kit was a girl’s name. Short for Katherine, in French Catherine. It could also be short for Quitterie, another French girl name. When Tiberius woke up, and I asked him about it, he simply shrugged and did not explain. We never talked about it again.”

Kit didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. He just nodded, closed his eyes, and waited for Maximilien to leave.

Once he was alone with Ty, Kit lay down on the bed next to him, not quite touching, but close enough to feel the heat of his body. Ty’s face was turned to his. Kit fell asleep to Ty’s soft breathing, each exhalation caressing his skin like feather across his cheek.

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akimmito · 4 years

Text

They thought they won #1

"Ok. So, this is a fanfic that follows the directions posted by @chocolate1721. I liked it and wanted to write it, so here it is.

I divided it into two parts because it had 7546 words and I had only written about Gotham, I was still missing Paris. So, to allow a more pleasant reading I separated it.

This is a Timinette fanfic because I think there are very few of them and I want more content from these two.

So, let's get started.

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

Taggued: @elmokingkong

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

A trip to Gotham did not go as badly as Marinette thought it would. And they were talking about Gotham, a city so dangerous that you cannot set foot on the streets without suffering an attempted assault. She can only think that Ladybug's luck allowed them to pass the two weeks of the trip without any incident that attempted against the life of any of their companions (although the class screamed to be attacked with Lila spreading scandalous lies). So everything was fine ... Until his last night in the city.

A quiet night, if they could ignore the screams that were occasionally heard (Damn it, Bustier, why so close to the Crime Alley?). The class dined as if there was not a three-front war brewing between the students, it was a time when Lila's lies were hardly heard. It was a great night for Marinette... but then again, why so close to the Crime Alley?

As soon as they left the small restaurant they met two well-known Gotham villains, causing panic in almost all the members of the French class. Only two girls saw that there really is no danger, too many injuries to pose a threat. Harley and Ivy barely can see the students, they can't even stop.

Marinette, sweet Marinette, approaches them to see their wounds. She's not going to let someone bleed to death in front of her, not if she can help it.

Chloe follows her closely; each taking one of the women to identify the wounds and see how to get them to the hospital. However, Marinette believes that if she lets them bleed freely it won't do to take them anywhere; She began tearing her clothes to make makeshift bandages with the pieces for the most bleeding wounds ... That was until the class stopped being a bunch of screaming and inconsistency.

"Oh, I didn't want to believe it, but you're working with villains!" Lila's comment sparked the class hostility, Chloe just huffs mockingly.

"Damn it, Marinette. Don't you get tired of being such a bitch? "

"Joining Chloe, what did they expect? If they both work for Hawkmoth, obviously they would for the villains here." Someone, Marinette doesn't want to identify the voice, accuses them (again) of working with the Parisian villain, when clearly the man has put a target on her back to corrupt her and turn her into an Akuma. Anyway, idiots.

"You suck, Marinette!"

"What a disappointment, Marinette, you would know better that you must be a good example for class."

"Fools. " Chloe curses under her breath at her teacher's comment.

"I'm. No matter who the person is, I'm not going to see them die if I can help avoid it. ”Marinette frowns at the teacher. There was a time when she thought it was amazing, but those were childish thoughts of a thirteen year old girl who thought the world was divide in black and white. The world is more than that.

Everyone is so engrossed in the uproar that they are not alert enough, Marinette gets mad at herself for not being more careful. The Joker, FUCKING JOKER, is in front of them with a stuffed animal? Marinette isn't going to question it, as far as she knows, it could be a bomb. Even so…

The class doesn't wait a second when they run away, Joker just laughs at the reaction. Chloe stands in front of the two wounded women, waiting for any sign of her best friend, whether to flee or fight.

Marinette scans her surroundings without taking her attention from the madman in front of her. Her first option would be to run, but she's not going to leave Harley and Ivy helpless in the face of the brutal clown-themed killer (all fully justified childhood fears). A moment of silence when the class screams are lost in the streets, it almost seems like a dramatic moment from an action movie.

Joker is excited. The two girls stayed behind to protect their toy and the redhead. He might be impressed; not just anyone would stay to face it. No one is so crazy. His gaze falls on the dark-haired girl, she looks too calm and in ambient. He smiles when he sees her walking to face him and bends down to grab a lever too convenient in the middle of the sidewalk. She's a fun girl! Before she does, he lunges for her. It will be a fun game between the two.

Chloe watches Marinette fight the Joker with a crowbar, take and hit. She can tell he wants to knock him out, but, well, he's not doing it. Brutal would be a good word to describe the little Parisian drawing blood from the man as he laughs as if he had been given the top prize in the lottery (Chloe firmly believes he really feels that way). And it seems he really likes Marinette, a shiver running down her spine at the thought. Chloe bends quickly towards the two women trying to get up, the more time passes the more possibilities there are for that crazy man to become obsessed with her friend and she will not allow it (Kagami will dismember her with her katana if she allows it).

Harley and Ivy barely manage to stand up, but lean heavily on Chloe. It does not bother her, her training has allowed her to support a little extra weight and as long as she does not have to carry them, there's no problem.

"If you don't hit harder, you won't win," Joker laughs with each comment, wanting to force the girl to be more brutal, even though she is too calm and his comments don't seem to reach her.

"Who said something about winning?" It's the first time she've answered him, he smiles. Marinette bites her tongue to containing any other comment, if she opens her mouth she will get the maniac to follow her to Paris and a madman behind her is enough.

Somehow, while fighting, he has cornered the group in a corner. Marinette berates herself for worrying too much about useless things and now she must win, but give him that satisfaction. Her hair stands on end, a bad blow and her weapon goes in the opposite direction and away from her. Now she only has a clean fist. She can work with it, even though her brain screams at her to run. She swallows thick when he lunges at her again. His mind is a constant alarm of: there's no cure, there's no cure, there's no cure.

But at that moment dark figures leap from the surrounding buildings and confront him, Marinette backs down without letting her guard down until her mind focuses enough to recognize them. The city vigilants.

From there everything is a whirlwind of thoughts and Marinette does not realize when the Joker has been placated and has them close, to the surprise them, she launches herself towards one totally random and remains in the arms of Nightwing who only smiles kindly at the agitated girl about to cry with relief.

"I, help ... them, yes ... wounds, that." Marinette can't hold a coherent sentence toward Nightwing.

"What he meant is that they are injured and need immediate medical attention." Chloe stands firm and will never admit that her legs are shaking, or that being held by Red Hood was welcome help. First dead than looking vulnerable.

Marinette lets herself slip into Nightwing's arms as all the adrenaline leaves her. It's been a long time since she felt this way helpless towards some danger, but she was just Marinette and there was no chance of Ladybug showing up. Thank heaven for the arrival of the vigilants.

"Robin has already alerted the police, he should be here soon." Batman looks at both girls for a moment, but turns to watch the unconscious Joker.

"Everything is fine. " Nightwing whispers to the little girl in his arms, he feels her tremble against him and he is no longer sure if it is the fear or has another origin.

In a short time the police are there and the two Parisian girls have to give a statement (unfortunately the loss of blood left the two women out of action).

"How it happend?" Chloe takes the initiative, Marinette doesn't seem to be ready to leave Nightwing or say something more coherent than a barely audible babble, clearly struggling to stay together between anxiety and guilt, because yes, Marinette Dupain-Cheng can't help blame herself. Sometimes, Chloe thinks, want to shake her until she regains her senses (but that doesn't work, Luka's melodies, on the contrary. Oh, they're magical).

"To begin with, this is the fault of our teacher's incompetence to choose a restaurant so close to the Crime Alley. Second, I am very surprised that it did not happen before because our companions were struggling to get the attention of a madman. They said so many stupid things." The vigilants raise an eyebrow at the girl's words, if they didn't know better they could believe that the girls didn't suffer a close encounter with the Joker. "And third, Dupain-Cheng is too good to let someone bleed to death in front of her and I too good a friend to see her jump into danger alone. This leaves me with the experience of never going on a trip with that band of incompetents. "

"Can you relate the incident?" Commissioner Gordon is tired, with each passing day new characters appear in the city and he is never ready. The girl hiding in Nightwing's arms and her friend who seems ready to declare war to anyone.

"They appeared bleeding, our companions being stupid, the madman appears and they all flee leaving us behind. Ha, surely they would have thrown us towards him if they had not been so afraid" Chloe doesn't miss the opportunity to make a dismissive comment to her class, Marinette is out of combat to reprimand her for being too cruel with her sincerity. "Dupain-Cheng being so sweet as an acid candy defends us, is done with a lever and gets into a fight with the madman. Somehow we ended up in this horrible place and well, they came along and Dupain-Cheng falls apart in her standard nervous form. It will be fine, it just tends to over-think. The only thing recorded is the split lip, the rest is her realizing a thousand possible scenarios where everything went wrong. "

That said, the four women are rushed to the hospital (Nightwing accompanies them because the young woman in his arms refused to release him and also didn't have the heart to leave her alone when it was obvious that she needed comfort). As soon as they arrive they are checked and Nightwing leaves, giving the girls a brief look before leaving.

"We will stay here, we want to make sure they are okay." Chloe takes control of the situation, refusing to abandon the women. Anyway, after the act on the street, he doubts that they will be well received by the class. She is sure they are not worried and can almost hear their irritating voices speaking nonsense about it.

The doctors allow it stay there with the endorsement of the police, they fall asleep on a sofa in the room where Harley and Ivy are locate. Marinette calmed down throughout the trip to the hospital, muttering apologies to the caretaker who accompanied her for sticking like a koala to his person. And her rest is very calm, without nightmares or anything; Maybe it's the emotional exhaustion of the experience, but there are no dreams riddled with deaths or with the Joker, there is only a deep black who embraces her like a good friend.

The next morning they are awakened by the voices of Harley and Ivy talking to the doctor, Chloe also recognizes the voice of the officer who took the statement yesterday.

"They were very daring and their classmates abandoned them, even the adult with them. "

"You should do something, Jimmy!"

Gordon notices the looks of the two girls and approaches to talk to them, being much more rested can better appreciate the mettle of the two young girls. Especially the dark-haired one, last night was a bunch of inconsistencies and today she looks completely calm, looking towards Harley and Ivy looking for confirmation of their health.

"Good morning, ladies. "

"Good morning, Officer. " Marinette greets with a friendly smile, focusing her attention on the officer. She knows that they must return to their class and return to Paris.

"No one reported two girls missing, but you mentioned they are on a class trip. Can I know the name of the person in charge to call them?"

"Claine Bustier from Paris, France. College Françoise Dupont, we stayed at the Gotham Royal Hotel. Our room is the 155. "Marinette enters all her data, but she also decides that it is better that she has absolutely all of them. "My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, 17 years old. My parents are Sabine Cheng and Tom Dupain, they have a bakery. Tom & Sabine Boulangerie."

"Chloe Burgeois, I reside at the Hotel Le Grand Paris. My father is the mayor, André Burgeois, and my mother is Audrey Burgeois, the Queen of Style. "

Gordon takes note of all the information they have given him, if he cannot contact her teacher he has two pairs of parents to call for their daughters. And for them to be giving that contingency, he can intuit that they know that perhaps they imagine that it will be the case.

He immediately retires and leaves them alone with the two women. He has a job to do.

Gordon spent the whole morning trying to locate the teacher, according to the hotel they left him early in the morning and they have no idea about anything. He doesn't want to alarm the girls' parents yet, so he will first talk to them to find out if they know where they could be, he sends them to bring to the police station to facilitate the whole process, and he also asks for food for the girls. It's almost lunch time.

"Welcome, sit down." The two girls obey with slightly worried expressions, they seem to be fearing the worst. "I have been unable to locate their teacher or class, according to the hotel, they left early in the morning. "

Marinette holds her breath, reality hit her in the face. Chloe's not much better. It was their last night in Gotham, today they had to take a flight to Paris... they didn't it because they are sure that they abandoned them. They start muttering in French at Gordon's confusion, they look alarmed.

"Sir, we are supposed to go back to Paris today. And... well, lately our teacher hasn't been taking roll. Also, she take what our comrades say as fact." Marinette panics again, but this time there are no saviors and they are trapped in another country. "I just hope they didn't go to Paris without us..."

"Don't be innocent, Maribug." Chloe addresses her with her friend's loving nickname, sees her on the verge of panic and hopes to remind her that they are in this together. "Of course they left without us, she didn't count for a visit to the museum. What will be different today? A word from Lie-la and everything goes under her will."

There was a small second of surprise that gave way to panic interspersed with fury in Gordon's features, he turns to pick up the phone and call the airport in a frenzy. He began to demand passengers on flights to Paris, but was repeatedly denied and his patience goes overboard.

"Ladies, would you mind waiting outside?" "Marinette and Chloe obey. They stay near the door because they don't know where to go and catch the officer's scream." THERE ARE TWO CHILDREN WHO COULD HAVE BEEN ABANDONED BY THEIR TEACHER IN THE CITY! NOW TELL ME IF CALINE BUSTIER BOEARDED THE FUNCKING PLANE WITH HER STUDENTS OR NOT! "

Boiling with anger and after a few more screams, Gordon has the information. But he's still so furious that he could commit murder on the spot. Worst of all, he also has video evidence of a student tearing up two airline tickets that, if you have to guess, are those of the girls they left behind. What do those people have in mind? He already feel the migraine coming.

He drops into his chair, counts to ten, and decides to call Bruce. Technically, being a Wayne Foundation sponsored trip, he's responsible for the two girls and with him in charge it will be easier to deal with the parents.

"Hey, Bruce. I have a situation, the Wayne Foundation sponsored a class trip for the Françoise Dupont School and the teacher in charge left two of his students abandoned in the country; I have video evidence of their negligence and I am sure that in every place they went to there is has least one camera that must have caught something. " He massages his forehead, it's not his jurisdiction, but when doing it in his territory he can form a case and send it to the Paris police for follow. "You should come and take care of them while we resolve to take them home, one of her classmates broke their tickets and I'm not even sure if their belongings are in good condition. "

"I understand, Jim. I'll take over, I'll be there soon. "

Gordon is relatively more relieved, but no less angry. He gets up to ask them to come back in and tell them what will happen, so they won't be surprised to see Bruce Wayne coming for them.

"Bruce will take care of you, make all the preparations for your return trip to Paris. And while you come, how normal is the situation with your teacher and your classmates?" He watches the silent interaction and the blonde is the one talking.

"We are the only two people in our class who do not believe Lie-la's lies. Maribug earned her hatred by trying to expose her stories for what they are: lies. And I, well, I was never going to let myself be bowed down by someone like her. "Marinette denies because of the choice of words.

"She considers us an obstacle in her reign. When she arrived, I never believed her because the stories were too unrealistic even for our standards in the class, considering that we all know a fair amount of celebrities and we all form a very diverse group with a promising future, I mean we have Max, he create an AI capable of feeling emotions. So when I didn't believe her and tried to make my friends see reason, she swore that she would take everything away from me ... And she did, it wouldn't have been so bad if it were just that, I realized who my true friends are and that I shouldn't trust anyone. The real problem is the way in which he influenced them all, I cann't longer recognize Alya, she is even worse than Chloe years ago. "Marinette sighs, remembering the last years is exhausting in many ways. "So they have marginalized us, they attack us only because Lila says that we did something to her even when we were not there and we have witnesses who can confirm our stories..."

"Seeing them is like seeing a surreal work with abstract tendencies, impossible to believe what you are seeing. The worst is Bustier, she's a facilitator. I hadn't seen the problem before, but now that I'm in Maribug's place too, well, we were clearly wrong about what kind of teacher she was. She believes all her lies and even congratulates her on them! She let use everyone to her holy whim and antagonize those who don't. ”Chloe gets up indignant and ready to continue ranting, not many adults stop to listen to them. "I'm tired of hearing the same speech from her must be the best person, Marinette. Be a good example! Someone should teach him didactics, she obviously doesn't know what she's doing. And now she leaves us in another country! Negligent, stupid, facilitator ..."

"Chloe, stop it. He understood your point. "Marinette is the voice of reason and tries to appease her friend's overflowing anger. It's true that having someone willing to listen is cathartic, but they should not take so many liberties.

"It's not fair, Maribug, not with you. Always ready to help others and they simply attack you when you decide to think about yourself and your future. They think you owe them something and it's totally the other way around because without you, that class wouldn't be half as good as it's ... because when you took the class presidency they all grew in their areas..."Chloe sits down again, her brow furrowed and still very angry. "They don't deserve you. "

"Miss Bustier often asks me to help her with different tasks, before it meant an additional workload… I became her disappointment when I told her that I would not do more work outside of my duties as class president, it dictated by the rules of the institution. She lectured me that I should not be selfish, that it's for the benefit of the class ... and well, I told him that if she gave me half her salary I would gladly continue doing her job. She punished me, but it was the truth. "Marinette looks at her hands, that conversation was before the trip to Gotham and her punishment would start as soon as they returned to Paris, a pity that left her abandoned.

Surprised is a word that falls short, Gordon doesn't understand how an adult woman can be so irrational. What kind of alternate dimension does that class live in? A person with at least two functioning neurons would not be so ridiculous; At least, he thinks, perhaps the lies are well crafted as unrealistic as they may have seemed, correct?

"All this arose from the lies of that girl, how are those lies? "He feels like asking was a bad idea and the looks of the two girls are confirmation.

"She has tinnitus because she saved Jagged Stone's kitten from being run over by an airplane." Marinette replies completely blank.

"She knows half of Hollywood and recently said that she knows the whole Wayne family and that Damian Wayne has been her friend since she was five years old. "Marinette snorts not holding her stoic expression, they only said some lies, but it is that the others border on the delirium that they do not they want to end up in Arkham just for repeating it. That last one, of course, was very close. "I wish someone would warn her that the boy lived with his mother until he was ten years old. "

From there, Chloe gives more details and there is no longer Marinette who can stop her. By the time Bruce arrives with two of his boys, Gordon is on a call with the French police for a case to be brought to the French Board of Education about the school and its unethical methods of education, citing Marinette's unfair expulsion which looks it's still on the school record.

Bruce looks at the two girls in Gordon's office, the blonde looks ready for war and the other girl is sitting quietly. Dick and Tim walk behind him; Richard couldn't resist seeing the girl who hung on him as a koala baby again and Tim is there for exactly the same as Bruce, taking charge because is also his responsibility.

"Good afternoon." Bruce greets, catching the attention of the two Parisian girls. They return the greeting and Gordon only makes a gesture of recognition, the police chief reviews the video he sent and the evidence he has of the case, he can hear him muttering indignantly and something about his daughter being part of all that circus.

"Hey!" Richard greets as well, being friendlier than his adoptive father. "I'm Richard, but you can call me Dick and this is Tim, my little brother. ”Tim gives him a contemplative look and just nods at them. His eyes fixed on everything but the two girls.

"I'm Marinette and she's Chloe, nice to meet you." Marinette smiles brightly. Dick can't believe he's the same girl of last night, but apparently she is.

Gordon ends the call at that time, the police said to initiate a police investigation and to involve the Board of Education.

"Well, ladies. When they get home they will ask for your formal statement and the presentation of the charges, although it seems that the prosecution will take care of that. ”He smiles at the girls, who agree with his words. Chloe celebrates, of course it will involve her father too. "Hi Bruce, thanks for coming."

"Of course. And since you mentioned the investigation, Tim collected all of the security camera files from the past two weeks. Every place they were in is in the file. " Tim hands the memory over to the commissioner, he still has a copy on the computer to review in detail himself.

"Thanks, I will review it and send the parts of interest to France."

After that, the five retreat to the Wayne Manor. The suitcases, or what is left of them, awaits they there. Any impression they might have on seeing the mansion falls short because of the disgust of seeing its things ruined.

"Well, Maribug, can I take this as evidence for my theory?" The hosts are still close enough to hear his words, even though they were about to leave them alone.

"Lila's being a meta or the Akuma's?" Marinette rummages in the secret compartments of her suitcase to make sure it was not raped, fortunately it's intact. It's safe to say that none of them thought that it would have a false base with a secret content, the place where the box of miracles rests. Ever since Hawkmoth decided to target her, she has been a little paranoid, or well, very paranoid. She has two secret compartments inside a secret compartment in her room, to store it, but being so far away she didn't feel calm and decided to carry it with her. Maybe it should include some riddle like firewall.

"Akuma, but Lie-la's also fits."

"I think it's the second one, only the class behaves this stupid so we can't blame Hawkmoth, half Paris continues to maintain it's logical reasoning. "Marinette shrugs and classifies the clothes that still serve and the clothes which inevitably must Discard.

Chloe just hums in agreement, it's a valid point. Long nights of conversation with Kagami and Luka (Marinette's small notes) to determine the motives of the class being so incoherent and violent without a truly logical reason led to those two theories.

"You have to call home, Chloe. You already heard Mr. Wayne. "

"Yeah yeah, I'm going to. At least I brought the least glamorous clothes for this trip. "

That's a ground call for Tim, who had overheard their conversation upon hearing something curious. He must prepare the trip to Paris with Wayne's private plane, Bruce wants to take charge of the situation and speak in person with the parents of both girls. Every hour he knows they won't be leaving until the next day, giving them time to spend time with their unexpected guests.

The call is quick and enough for Marinette to fear that her mother will become Akuma. A message from her father confirms that her fears were unfounded, that her mother's anger is cold and will not fall into Hawkmoth's hands.

When the two girls relax and take a breather, knowing that they will sleep in that mansion, they don't even have time to think twice when Jason drags them into a room full of weapons, Marinette can barely contain her surprise and Chloe glows with excitement.

"Ready to learn how to shoot a gun?" Chloe jumps with badly contained enthusiasm, Marinette is not so enthusiastic about it, but learning to remove a weapon considers that it is something useful for what she asks to start there. "Okay, pixie-pop, I'll teach you how to take apart and lock a weapon."

They spend an entire two hours immersed in the world of weapons, Chloe going through each type as Marinette confronts Jason to disarm him, showing off her quick learning, though not good enough to beat her temporary master.

When Marinette leaves, claiming she doesn't want to shoot, she bumps into Damian and asks him for directions to get out of there.

"Because I should?"

"If I get lost it will be your fault." He snorts, but accepts. He doesn't want a stranger sniffing around the mansion and sticking his nose where it shouldn't. They walk in silence when she notices he is carrying a sword. "Is it a katana?"

"What else would it be?"

"An umbrella." She laughs at the boy's annoyed expression when he turns to look at her as if he thinks she's crazy. "There is a design inspired by katanas, a friend decided it was a good idea to scare us with it..."

"Pff. And why did you believe it?"

"She really tried to cut off someone's hand one day, it was with a saber, but ... we really believed her capable of attacking someone with a katana" Damian only raises an eyebrow with a curiosity that he refuses to admit even to himself. "And she's deadly with a sword, we vowed never to face her again with real swords unless we somehow became Superman. "

"Can you fight with swords?" He was being tolerant by allowing her to speak at first, but the latter did catch his attention. It may not be a good one, but having someone who won't cut its finger on themselves in a workout can be helpful, and if he can get her better, a decent opponent to practice with.

"I avoided she cutting my arm with a katana, does that count?"

It changes course and they head to another room, similar to the weapons room, but this time it is full of swords and knives. She respects people's hobbies, she does, but the amount is over the top and she has a slight suspicion that there is more somewhere in the big mansion. Will there be a pump room? She wouldn't be surprised if one of the other two brothers suddenly came out claiming fanaticism about the explosives.

"I want to see how bad you are."

Ouch, Marinette thinks. She has been ruled out immediately, but will not decline now that she's surrounded by so many weapons. She does feel more excited about a sword than a gun, they can't blame her for preferring close combat.

"We will fight with katana, take whatever you want. They are all polished and sharp. ”She feels something dark when she mentions the sharp, as well as pride in the perfect maintenance of her weapons. She smiles confidently, the boy reminds her of Kagami (albeit much more somber and clearly hostile).

Having chosen, the two are placed in position. And he begins to criticize hard and coldly.

"Your posture is very loose, you will only get him to cut your throat with the first blow. Your friend is an idiot, she must has corrected you since he saw you. ”Mariette nods. "Imitate me. ”She obeys, reflecting her posture. "But be firmer, this is not a dance, it's a fight and if you don't stand up fine. Well, you will dead. "

After several minutes in the same position, they begin. A couple of movements and he correct her again.

"The movement must be strong and fluid, you will cause a fracture on your own if you allow the elbow to continue flexing like this. You must be precise in the movements, you cann't start to experiment if you don't have dominated the base. Again. "

With each criticism and correction the girl makes, she becomes more excited. Damian is relentless with his comments, openly insulting her for her mistakes, but gives the correct and fair corrections for the problem she presents.

"You are agile and flexible, use it to your advantage. Put aside unnecessary movements, sword fighting is offensive and deadly." Marinette notices that she is having fun, if the smile says anything (however mischievous it is when she mocks her mistakes). At least until he stumbles over his own feet and falls flat on his face in front of Damian. "You're an idiot?! You almost stabbed yourself, you can't fall like this! Get up and regain the dignity you have left. Again and don't fall or I’ll stab yourself. "

Marinette has a good time, she doesn't even notice the time she spends training with Damian. Alfred interrupts them by announcing that dinner has been served since fifteen minutes.

"Thanks Alfred." She smiles kindly.

Damian reluctantly guards the sword, his brothers always choose other weapons when training. It was satisfying to have someone willing to fight him in his area, especially for his quick learning, he only had to correct twice about posture and movement; he also noticed that she was imitating his movements to correct himself as they fought. Less useless than his brothers, he will give she that.

When they enter, everyone is eating or so it seems. Tim looks at his plate as if he is going to speak to him at any moment, Dick talks more than he eats (with Stephanie who came interested in the two girls who could be victims of Bruce's adoption), Jason has not even touched the plate and in change is arguing over the theory of how to disassemble a grenade launcher with Chloe. Bruce is the only one who eats in silence, at least until he sees his youngest son arrive with Marinette.

"Excuse me." Marinette sits in the empty seat next to Tim, who barely registers the movement. She worries a little, she seems to be in her bad weeks (say Hawkmoth and her Akuma at three in the morning).

Dinner passes unceremoniously, past Damian demanding they shut up, almost stabbing Marinette's hand with his fork. And contrary to what anyone might think, she just laughs, the whole situation seemed so refreshing, so many people at a table and the familiarity with which they were received. She feels comfortable, even with Damian's passive-aggressive attitude.

Somehow, an hour later, they are dragged back into another room. This time both Chloe and Marinette want to scream, and Mari feels she can be relieved because it didn't result in bombs or anything more dangerous than the other two. He gets them comfortable clothes so they can get on, knowing that they have been sweating and going in normal clothes.

Chloe does not hesitate to climb on the trapeze after warming up, but Marinette sits on the parallel bars, not that she is not willing to do the same as Chloe, but she flies often enough as Ladybug to look for something calmer, although she should take advantage and she would like to have a private gym like that, because there are also weights and a punching bag.

Dick is in cloud nine watching how the two girls look like fish in the water, he imagined that it would be so. Especially when she saw Marinette training with Damian and the movements she made, she is clearly a gymnast. And being there, well, that the two of them are so enthusiastic only makes it better. Unlike his brothers, he just wants them to have fun.

At some point in the time they take turns between the bars and the trapeze, Dick and Chloe end up competing. While Marinette is happy on the uneven bars until Damian re-monopolizes her and they move to the weapons room; leaving the other two doing jumps and twists in the air (Dick wins, of course).

Of course, Marinette enjoys the workout and is glad she didn't end up hurt in any way. It would be funny to explain to her parents that they ended up fighting with swords with a boy four years younger and that he did not have the mercy to avoid hurting her.

"Better than a few hours ago, you're not that horrible anymore. "

"Decent, right?"

"That is too favorable for you, you still trip over the air and almost take your eye out." Damian frowns in disappointment at the incompetence of maintaining a decent balance when he has both feet on the ground. When he saw her on the uneven bars, it was almost believed that the jumps that ended in disaster were fake, but no, she really stumbled into nothingness itself.

"Uh, sorry. I will do it better.

"You better, I won't admit any more stupid mistakes."

Damian would have preferred to go on patrol, but he won't complain about the training either. He had fun at the girl's expense and, above all, he knows that if he sees her again and she keeps practicing (he will make sure of that) he will be a better rival than today. She can even introduce that friend of her to measure levels, he's better of course but it never hurts to re-confirm.

At ten at night they go to bed, Alfred shows the room to the two girls and lets them settle down. Marinette can't sleep, after four hours of tossing and turning, she resigns herself and leaves, looking at Tikki on her pillow sleeping comfortably, she can't help envying her good rest. Pick up your phone and it's 2:15.

She curses her insomnia and wanders around the mansion, somehow miraculously ends up in the kitchen. It is a dim light that directs her there, since everything else is dark, she didn't even feel when went downstairs.

In the kitchen, Tim is leaning against the table with his computer on and a steaming coffee. Suddenly he gets up and turns to her with a surprised (and very confused) expression, but more surprised Marinette is when he does that.

"Oh Im sorry…"

"No, no ... Uh, can't you sleep?"

"Usually not. What are you doing?" Marinette knows that she is taking, perhaps, too much liberties when curious about what Tim is doing, but she is not sleepy and there is nothing else to do.

"Work, Wayne Industries is developing a new model of heavy machinery for moving cargo containers, much more resistant to be located on the coasts for the rainy seasons… I am reviewing all the designs, suggested materials and profitability of each project to present to the board in three weeks. There are seven different models, and none are tailored to it needs. " Tim shows the blueprint of the last model he has reviewed, flipped it over several times, and revised the materials, but they are not entirely satisfactory for what he is seeking to present.

"It looks complicated, how do you know if it adapts to it needs or not?" Marinette sits next to him, interested in the project. She know he is the CEO of Wayne Enterprise and every division in the company, but seeing the work he does is something different. "If you have to go through those kinds of projects and take care of other tasks, i'm not surprised that you're so sleep deprived"

"Well, the demand is analyzed first." Open another file of the works of the sector where the new project is directed. "Here, the work of the machinery must meet the standards in relation to the pace of work and the climate, considering that it wants to deliver a specific model for working on coasts. This is only to increase efficiency and allow a slightly longer time frame between maintenances. Metals corrode with greater speed and, sometimes, the weather is so bad that it avoids correct maintenance; storms in mid-spring flood the ports. fairly frequently and parts need to be replaced more frequently This new model should allow greater resistance to these conditions. "

"Interesting, and are you always watching projects?"

"Not all projects, Wayne Biotechnology projects do not review this way, it is not my area. It's usually the manager of the division who presents new projects to the board. However, I still have to review other aspects of all the divisions of the company and that includes them all…"

"It's still a lot of work, is it that heavy or do you overload yourself?" Marinette inquires with playful curiosity, Tim shifts nervously.

"A little of both?"

"Oh.So, you need a better coffee. ”She takes the liberty of trying the one she is drinking. "It's still very light. I will share with you my winning recipe, it has kept me up for an entire week with one hour of daily sleep. "

Marinette gets up and moves in the kitchen as if she were the owner of the place, looking for what she needs. Seeing the coffee, she is surprised.

"Black Insomnia?"

"I can only have one cup a week, Alfred thinks it's going to kill me if I drink it every day. I have made an agreement, he doesn't tell me anything about not sleeping and I comply with taking it once a week."

"It's totally valid. " Marinette laughs and puts the coffee back in its place. "Whiskey. It will come handy. "

"What?" Tim watches the girl open the bottle to smell her, it's one of the ones Alfred confiscated from Jason a week ago. "Why Whiskey?"

"Other flavor, vodka is better, but I can work with this. Do you have mint?"

Tim remains dubious as he watches her work with the most random ingredients he could think of for a coffee, also yogurt? He won't question it, but was France so strange?

A few minutes later Marinette hands him a cup.

"It has less caffeine than a regular cup, but the energy it provides is much greater. If you drink one cup per hour, with this you only need one to run at least four. It's magical, come on, don't see it like that. ”She pouts and he decides to take it.

"It is safe? I don't think Alfred is happy that you murder me with coffee."

"I think Damian would have a party."

"Oh, the demon's ally. Since I didn't see it coming, I gave you my trust and that's how you pay me. "

They both laugh, Tim finally trying the coffee. He will give she points for the taste, he don't even feel that it has alcohol and ultimately he feel more alive than a moment ago. He can continue working.

They both stay in the kitchen, Tim works until five in the morning. Marinette fell asleep at one point in that time and he settled her in such a way that when he falls asleep she is his pillow. The sad thing is that not even putting together the hours of sleep of both can they add up to three.

Alfred enters deciding to wake up the teenagers, the plane will leave in two hours and they must prepare. Tim looks for his cup of coffee and has finished it, he doesn't want to move.

"Now, Master Tim. Be a responsible boy and they'll go change. ”Marinette is barely aware of her surroundings as she is dragged into the rooms by Tim, but neither is he does.

Neither of them fully records what happens, except getting to a bed and going back to sleep. Totally out of combat. When they are close to leaving, Bruce doesn't even know what think on seeing the two young sleeping like corpses, dressed exactly the same as the day before.

"Chloe, help Marinette get ready. Dick, help Tim. We're leaving in ten minutes. ”The two mentioned only look at each other in panic before running to wake up the dead.

Marinette barely registers, feeling terribly drained now that all the effort from the day before is building up. He could sleep a thousand years if he were allowed to. They get ready in record time and move to the airport, for the only thing Marinette is aware of is to her luggage, being that she hugs it and when she asks, she murmurs: I love this suitcase, but don't tell my other suitcases, they get angry. No one says anything except for Jason's small laugh and a snort from a more sleepy than awake Tim who responds: who will tell them? No one knows them. Jason breaks down after that and laughs out loud.

Richard regrets not having recorded the most hilarious conversation he has ever witnessed, he has heard his little brother say inconsistent things in his sleep deprivation, but seeing an exchange is something very different. And it's so funy.

And they spend hours on the plane, Marinette basically asleep on Tim while he seems to melt in the seat. Richard took lots of photos every time they moved. By the time they get to Paris, they are both more awake.

Chloe smiles at her city, excited for what awaits all the bastards who left them behind. Maybe it is justice for everyone else, but for her it's revenge and she wants to see them suffer for hurting them both.

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

Thanks for reading!

#timari #Timinette #tim x marinette #marinette x tim #maribat #bustier salt #ml x dc

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goneseriesanalysis · 3 years

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Drake Merwin

I am soo sorry, this is super late but I got incredibly distracted with reading and forgot that literally anything else existed. Drake was a really hard character for me to analyse because his characterisation was just so disappointing to me - but luckily my intrinsic desire to have everyone hear my opinions prevailed, and so here it is. I hope you enjoy!!

Spoiler Warning: Major spoilers for Gone, Minor spoilers for the rest of the series and the monster trilogy

Old Opinion: I had a sort of morbid obsession with Drake and thought he was a top-tier villain

New Opinion: So far Drake is tied with Astrid for most-changed opinion. His character has almost no-depth and could be placed in almost any story without changing a single thing about him - and it would make sense. I found myself desperately trying to make him more interesting than he is in an attempt to justify younger me’s obsession - but alas I was unsuccessful. He had a lot of potential, but instead he ended up as a copy-paste villain with no realistic motivations and no real intrigue.

1.) DRAKE’S APPEARANCE:

Drake is, I think, the character who is best (as in most thoroughly) described in the first book. Not only do we get an idea of his actual appearance beyond the vaguest possible descriptions (sorry to Sam, Caine, Diana and every minor character) but we also get some idea as to the effect his appearance has on other people.

In Chapter 14, when we are first introduced to the Coates kids, Drake is described as, “a smiling, playful, mean-eyed kid with shaggy, sandy-coloured hair.” I actually really like this description. Contrasting “smiling” and “playful” with “mean” really brilliantly sets Drake up to be a complex villain – the kind of villain we all love to hate, who cracks a joke while slitting your throat. It has the implication of a layered personality but sadly, this is not the villain we get. In fact his character in the first chapter compared to the character we get as the book continues is so drastically different that it almost seems like mg did a complete 180 on his character. An original description is supposed to give us some indication as to what a character is like – their personality and role in the story, and we know that mg can do this really well. (Sam’s non-descript description setting him up to be the underdog, Quinn’s mismatched attire hinting at his inability to fit in, Astrid’s colour scheme reflecting her innocence and religiosity), and so it seems particularly odd, not to mention disappointing, that Drake’s description gives us…nothing. No real indication as to who he is or his purpose other than to hint to him being an antagonist (which we already guessed from his affiliation with Caine.) I could go on and on about what a waste Drake’s character was, but I’ll save it for a later paragraph.

We will then skip ahead to Chapter 37 where both Howard and Lana describe a similarity between Drake and Pack Leader:

“The one time she had seen Drake Merwin. He had made her think of Pack Leader: strong, hyper alert, dangerous. Now, the lean physique looked gaunt, the shark’s grin was a tight grimace, his eyes were red-rimmed. His stare, once languidly menacing, was now intense, burning hot. He looked like someone who had been tortured beyond endurance.”

“The two of them, two of a kind, it seemed to Howard, stared holes into each other.”

This is a much better example of mg using descriptions to establish the purpose of a character. By drawing a comparison between these two, mg sets up Drake’s later role in the books, where he replaces Pack Leader as the gaiphage’s right-hand man. This almost leads me to believe that mg had decided very early on that Drake was going to desert Caine and this is possibly why he seems so out of place and underdeveloped as Caine’s underling in the first two books. Mg had already moved on from this side of his character…and it shows. Lana’s description of Drake also works as a basis for showing the reader how he has changed since losing his arm (before gaining his whip) and acts as an insight into his current mental state – which is important as we don’t get much introspection during Drake’s POV’s. But, I still have a few issues with this. First of all, his “lean physique”. Now this isn’t really a problem all by itself, but unless I have forgotten what 14 year olds looks like (which is a possibility though I doubt it) I don’t think that they should be muscly with minimal body fat. And Drake is not the only character he does this with. Quinn gets extremely muscly later on in the books (I’ll admit that there is a plausible reason behind this so this example isn’t terrible but it’s mentioned like every 5 sentences) and in Fear Caine is described as having wash-board abs. Why are we sexualising children?? Children should be pudgy and awkward and still growing into their bodies, not lean and muscly!! The attractive, damaged man who hates women for no reason at all is also a really really really common trope and tbh I’m just so bored of it. It’s not relatable (at least it shouldn’t be) and it’s just really unimaginative – although it does help us to understand Drake’s character as we’ve seen him before so many times in all types of media. My second issue with this description is the way it really really highlights how much of a waste of character Drake was. The potential of a high-school bully with a skewed world-view due to the death of his father and the later abuse of his mother at the hands of his replacement father figure trying hard to impress the charming “leader” with unimaginable power (that he so desperately wants) only to be undermined at every turn by a girl who teases him by pointing out his flaws and insecurities taking his anger out on everyone around him (especially women) as a way to cope with his childhood traumas then turning into a heartless monster who not only enjoys others pain but lives for it after being “tortured beyond endurance”, was astronomical. But we don’t get that. Instead we get a cheesy, one-dimensional cartoon villain. The change that his body and mind go through after his maiming should have been pivotal to his character, but that just doesn’t come across in the writing. :/ But more on this later.

And last but not least, the whip-hand, which is very important to Drake’s character. It turns his actual body into a weapon and his excitement over this is indicative of his sadistic nature. Again, I think this is an example of a wasted opportunity. I would have liked mg to have gone in to depth about how Drake’s body undergoing this change affected his psyche (and I’m not counting his one-off line in the monster trilogy). I think it could be argued that Drake’s “change” is a metaphor for him going through puberty. Him gaining the whip that ultimately turned him into his very own weapon shows his transition from a child [a little messed up but still just a kid] into a monster, someone who is capable of committing atrocities without a second thought. It would have been particularly interesting for Drake and Orc’s final battle to put some focus on the fact that they both suffer through monstrous physical changes that can be used to represent their shift from children to young adults but whereas one relishes in this, one is completely disgusted. The whip-hand is described as being an “impossible blood-red snake” and then that “It was stretched. Like it had been turned into dark, blood-red taffy. It wrapped twice around his body.” – Both of these occurring in Chapter 39. I don’t have much to comment about this – other than that I think red is great colour choice for Drake, thematically at least.

I know this point was mostly about what Drake could have been as opposed to an actual analysis of his appearance, but I’m just so tired of the attractive misogynistic villain that seems to appear in every single piece of media. His characterisation really bummed me out and put me into a slump so instead of analysing his appearance I decided to roast him instead. But, onto actual analysis now (I am going to further expand on some of the points I made here I promise).

2.) DRAKE’S PERSONALITY AND CHARACTER

I mentioned in the previous point that a lot of Drake’s characterisation seems like an afterthought at best and one of the things that made me think this, is the inconsistencies with his character and the most obvious example of this is the discrepancies with his birthday. In chapter 20, Diana says that his birthday is “April twelfth, just one minute after midnight.” But, in Chapter 33 we get the line “Sooner would be better,’ Drake drawled, ‘what with me having a month.” This is a really small nit-pick, I know, but it just really bugs me that mg overlooked something as simple as a birthday – especially when birthdays are such an important plot point in this book. But anyway, moving on. I promise this whole review isn’t going to be negative.

Backtracking now to Chapter 14. Drake’s character here seems to differ quite drastically from his later characterisation. He seems here to be an example of the laughably evil trope, he has a kind of dry sarcastic humour that is quite fun and seems to lighten the tone of the story a little bit. Rather than showing us the boringly disgusting misogynistic villain that Drake turns out to be, we instead see a funny, charismatic character who seems to prefer picking on those who already have power – as is seen here:

“Drake paused halfway, turned back, and spoke for the first time. In an amused voice he said, ‘Oh, um, Captain Orc? Have your people – the ones who aren’t injured- line up outside. We’ll work out your… um, duties.’ With a grin that was almost a snarl, Drake added a cheerful, ‘Later’.” – Chapter 33

Now I understand that the reason we don’t see the real Drake here is because Sam is obviously not yet aware of his true personality – my issue lies in the fact that based on just this small excerpt here, I expected so much more from his character. We get hints of his sadistic nature here, with him joking about Cookie’s horrific injury and clearly taking joy in exerting power over Orc, but it is evenly balanced by the fact that he’s kind of amusing and we don’t really like Orc at this point anyway. Can we see that something isn’t quite right with him?? Yes. But do we kind of like him anyway?? Well I did. At this point. I would have really loved it if mg had carried on this idea of Drake abusing those who already have power – him enjoying to take down bully after bully so he can be King bully, instead of him picking on people who he perceives as weak and vulnerable. Mg relying on misogyny as a motivator is just really disappointing to me because there is no depth to it, and it’s pretty lazy. He hates Diana because she is a woman and he sees women as beneath him?? Weak. Over-used. Dull. He hates Diana because she has power over Caine in a way that he never can, which makes him feel insecure in himself and the fragile sense of stability and power that he has struggled to cultivate within his damaged psyche?? Yes pls. Not only would this have made Drake a much more engaging character, but it would also have made his desertion of Caine in hunger much more impactful. And while I think there are aspects of this within his character, which I will go into later, I wish there had been more of it. Again, I’m sorry that this has become more of a “what could have been” rather than an analysis but there really is just so little to analyse without just pointing out obvious facts and statements. There’s no spice here :/

Moving on now to Chapter 16, where we as an audience, as well as the characters within the book, begin to realise what Drake truly is – an unhinged madman. We are told by Sam that Drake has been abusing his power as Sheriff – which particularly stands out as, so far at least, Drake is the only member of Coates who has shown this kind of behaviour (Caine is actually a pretty sound leader until he loses his shit and attacks Sam). And this is the first major distinction that we get between Caine and Drake and their capacity as villains in the story. Caine is a bad person who will do bad things to achieve his goals, he is power-hungry and ambitious but he is not needlessly violent. Everything he does he (in his own mind) is able to justify as it helps him to achieve his vision. Drake, on the other hand, doesn’t really seem to have an end goal. He is violent for the sake of being violent – he is a sadist who enjoys the suffering of other people as we see here, “Drake was more than a little scary. Kids who defied Drake or any of his so-called sheriff’s had been slapped, punched, pushed, knocked down or, in one case, dragged into a bathroom and given a swirlie. Fear of Drake was replacing fear of the unknown.” Now, we still don’t get to see the full extent of Drake’s madness here. Most of the crimes listed are pretty mundane bully things – they’re still wrong, but they aren’t life-threatening. He hasn’t bashed anyone’s head in with a baseball bat. While Caine is playing with politics, Drake seems unable to move past his role of high school bully. If he had played it right, the role of Sheriff would have been perfect for him. I mean, how many actual police officers get away with literal murder in the name of “upholding the law”?? But he is unable of seeing the bigger picture, unable to grow and fit the new world order as Caine does so naturally, and so, instead of properly taking on the role of Sheriff and building up his own authority in this way, he turns back to his tried and tested method – hurt them and they’ll fall in line.

I particularly enjoy this as I think it explains, a little bit more, why he hates Diana and Astrid so much. Now I know the bottom line is simply that he is a violent misogynist – but that doesn’t explain why he hates Diana and Astrid specifically. Is it because they’re both attractive women and he is unable to distinguish sex and violence in his head?? Partly yes, but then Taylor is also described as attractive (and most people find her annoying) and yet he doesn’t seem to hate her to this extent. I think the real reason he hates these two specifically, more than anyone else, is because he simply cannot understand them – and that scares him (although he is unwilling to admit it). Drake only knows how to gain power through violence – he sees this work at home, he used it on Holden, he used it to gain his reputation at Coates and, although he has the ability to gain authority in other ways, he continues to use this method even now in the FAYZ. Diana and Astrid cannot do this, they are not fit to fight, they are not able to use violence to assert their status – and yet they both have more power in the FAYZ than he does. They make him question his whole world view and, as he cannot or will not adapt to the new hierarchy of the FAYZ, he resorts to trying to destroy them, in order to return the world to what it was before. His hatred of others gaining power through (what he sees as) unconventional means is then further established with his dislike of actual powers and the people who have them:

“I’m sick of all this powers crap. You saw what we did to freaks at Coates?? Who do you think it was that took care of that?? All these kids with their stupid so-called powers. Starting fires and moving stuff around and reading your mind and all?? Who do you think it was grabbed them one by one in their sleep and beat them down and when they woke up their hands were setting in a block of cement??

[…]

That’s right. And I didn’t even have a gun then. It’s not about who’s got powers, morons. It’s about who’s not afraid. And who’s going to do what has to be done.”

We get told by Diana that it was Drake’s idea to cement the kids in the first place (and a bad one at that) and I really think that is all the evidence you need to see that Drake’s hatred and fear all stem from his complete inability to adapt. He is trapped in a cycle of abuse that started with his father, a police officer who teaches him how to shoot people (however unwillingly) and is then continued by his step-father (an actual abuser) rendering him incapable of recognising any kind of authority if it is not gained from violent means. And so of course he hates the powers – none of the kids gained their powers through suffering or through causing suffering. They didn’t earn their authority in any valid way, according to him. (This is also another reason why I think Drake was so ecstatic at gaining his whip-hand. He suffered for it and therefore, in his twisted mind, he earned it. It is physical proof of his supposed power over these kids.) It’s tragic really – but mg then goes on to make him so disgustingly unsympathetic that his story loses its meaning. I love mg’s writing but Drake’s character truly was butchered for shock value and plot convenience and it makes me so sad.

Ok back to Chapter 16. Here, not only do we hear about some of the things that Drake is capable of, but we see them as well. His beat-down of Orc is the first indicator we get that Drake is someone we should really be afraid of. Heads up, this is a long quote:

“Nobody move,’ Drake said. Orc pushed Edilio off and jumped to his feet. He started kicking Edilio, landing size-eleven Nike blows into Edilio’s defensive arms. Sam jumped in to help his friend, but Drake was quicker. He stepped behind Orc, grabbed him by the hair, yanked his head back, and smashed his elbow into Orc’s face. Blood poured from Orc’s nose, and he howled in rage. Drake hit him again and released Orc to fall to the concrete. ‘Which part of “nobody move” did you not understand, Orc?’ Drake demanded. Orc rose to his knees and went for Drake like a linebacker, Drake stepped aside, nimble as a matador. He stuck his hand out and said to Chaz, ‘Give me that.’ Chaz handed him the bat. Drake hit Orc in the ribs with a short, sharp forwards thrust of the bat. Then again in the kidneys and again in the side of the head. Each blow was measured, accurate, effective. Orc rolled over on to his back, helpless, exposed. Drake pushed the thick end of the bat against Orc’s throat. ‘Dude. You really need to learn to listen when I talk.’ Then Drake laughed, stepped back, twirled the bat in the air, caught it and rested it on his shoulder. He grinned at Sam.”

“Sam had gone up against bullies before. But he’d never seen anything like Drake Merwin. Orc outweighed Drake by at least fifty pounds, but Drake had handled him like a little toy action figure.”

Orc has already been established as the top bully in Perdido beach – we’ve already seen that our main character is afraid of him – and for good reason. And so for Orc to be defeated so casually and so easily is shocking. It lets us know that the old world order has collapsed and old fears are fading away with it, with new, much more threatening adversaries taking their place. I actually think that this scene was exceptionally clever of mg. Drake is attacking someone who has already been set up as an antagonist, at the same time rescuing Edilio, who the reader has been conditioned to like. But, through context clues, we know that this is not a good thing. It sets up the villainous nature of the Coates kids, Orc’s redemption, Drake and Orc’s rivalry and Sam’s fear of Drake. And it feels natural, even after re-reading the book multiple times. It’s scenes like these that really remind me how great of a writer mg is.

Another thing I really wanted to talk about here IS Drake and Orc’s rivalry because, yet again, I think mg missed a huge opportunity with this. Drake and Orc are very similar before, and in the early days of the FAYZ. Both have abusive fathers (a step-father in Drake’s case but still), both enjoy asserting their power over people through violent means and both are put in positions of power that they are unable to fully take advantage of – Sheriff and Sheriff Deputy. And even as the books continue, similarities can still be found. They both suffer mutations that turn their bodies into grotesque weapons, dehumanising them and alienating them from their peers and That Scene in Plague tells us that Orc and Drake sometimes have similar “desires”. Their stories are constantly intertwined, with them being played off of each other from the start and Orc becoming Drake’s jailor later on (and in turn Drake sort of becoming his). Their differences come from their reactions to the horrific acts of violence they have committed – and of course why they do them. I’m going to make a whole separate post on this because it’s long enough to be a standalone, but my I just wish mg had played up both their similarities and differences more. It would have made Drake so much more interesting.

We also get more hints at his sadism in this scene. He is later unbothered that Betty has been hurt and it seems that the only reason he attacked Orc was because it gave him an opportunity to assert his dominance over him. All in all, this is one of my personal favourite scenes in the book as it establishes characters, themes and relationships very well. I just wish some of these had been developed further – but mg dropping certain aspects of the story does seem to be a common problem.

The final thing I wanted to talk about in regards to Drake’s personality and character is this line we get in Chapter 23, “It was small, just two bedrooms, very neat, very organised, the way Drake liked things.” This was another thing that irked me slightly. It’s such a small aspect of his characterisation but it reinforced the idea that drake is just another cookie-cutter villain with no real personality, nothing that makes him stand out in the sea of white male psychopaths with a hatred for women. His whole character could be replaced with any other misogynistic psychopath at no detriment to the story. My immediate though when reading this was that even the smallest aspects of his character can be seen in other, more developed villains – this line in particular is hugely reminiscent of Patrick Bateman. Nothing seems to be his own. No aspect of his character is even remotely unique. (I think this may also be why some young fans develop an obsession with him. His character is comfortable because we’ve seen it so many times before.) He is so entirely replaceable and replicable - only reason he isn’t completely forgettable is because you are constantly plagued by the horrific things he has done. Mg sacrificed depth and development for shock value and it’s so disappointing

3.) DRAKE’S PAST

Onto Drake’s life before the FAYZ. Not only does Drake receive some of the longest and most POV time in this book, he is also the character whose life before the FAYZ we learn the most about (with the possible exception of Sam). This is especially shocking to think about seen as Drake is arguably one of the most underdeveloped characters in the whole book, but anyway. There are two scenes I’m going to talk about here, both occurring in Chapter 23, with the first being his dad teaching him how to shoot. I apologise in advance for the long quote:

“His father had taught him how to shoot, using his service pistol. Drake still remembered the first time.

[…]

He remembered the way his father had taught him to grip the butt firmly but not too tight. To rest his right hand in the palm of his left and sight carefully, to turn his body sideways to present a smaller target if someone was shooting back. His father had had to yell because they were both wearing ear protection. ‘If you’re target shooting, you centre the front sight in the notch of the rear sights. Raise it till your sights are sitting right under your target. Let your breath out slowly and squeeze.’ That first bang, the recoil, the way the gun jumped six inches, the smell of the powder – it was all as clear in Drake’s mind as any memory he had. […]

‘What if I’m not shooting if I’m not shooting at a target?’ He’d asked his father. ‘What if I’m shooting at a person?’ ‘Don’t shoot a person,’ his father had said. But then he relented, relieved no doubt to find something he could share with his disturbing son. ‘Different people will tell you different techniques. But if it’s me, say I’m doing a traffic stop and I think I see he citizen reaching for a weapon, and I’m thinking I may have to take a quick shot? I just point. Point like the barrel is a sixth finger. You point and if you have to fire, you shoot half the clip, bang, bang, bang, bang.’ ‘Why do you shoot so many times?’ ‘Because if you have to shoot, you shoot to kill. Situation like that, you’re not aiming carefully for his head or his heart, you’re pointing at the centre of mass and you’re hoping you get a lucky shot., but if you don’t, if all you’re hitting is shoulder or belly, the sheer velocity of the rounds will knock him down.”

Ok so the first thing I want to analyse here, is how important this memory clearly is to Drake. He remembers it fondly, in immense detail and seems to call back on it when he needs to clear his head (notice how this memory is placed while Drake is trying to figure out what to do, not while he is doing it.) It seems that rather than just using this memory as a source of useful information, it is also a source of comfort to him. Now there are some things that I really wish mg had told us that would help to analyse this scene better, like: How old was Drake when this memory took place?? How old was Drake when his father died?? How did his father die?? But alas, we don’t know these things (at least not that I’m aware of, and not within this book) so I’m going to try and do the best I can with the information that we have. Now, in Light, Drake makes it seem like his step-fathers behaviour has been significant in forming his worldview – which makes sense, trauma does that. But he spends half of his time away at Coates, which says to me that for this behaviour to have had such a profound effect on him, his step-father must have been around for a while. Right?? I’m gonna take a guess at 3-4 years at the least. Give Drake’s mother about a year to meet and start dating this man after the passing of her husband – this means that Drake would have been around 9/10 at the latest when this scene took place. That’s pretty young. Like, this is a formative memory and from the way it’s written, it seems like this may be some of the only bonding that Drake and his father ever did together. No wonder Drake has such an unhealthy obsession with guns as is seen with these quotes:

“He started from Astrid’s house, which was already beginning to smoke. He worked his way methodically, a hunter, looking for any movement. Each time he spotted someone walking or running or biking, he would take a look at them through the rifle scope, line them up in the crosshairs. He felt like God. All he had to do was squeeze the trigger.” – Chapter 23

“Drake kept all three guns loaded all the time. They were set out on the dining room table, a display, something to be gazed at lovingly.” – Chapter 23

“Drake could not leave the gun alone. He kept thumbing the safety on and off. He rolled down the window and aimed it at stop signs as they passed, but did not fire.” – Chapter 31

Drake shooting Sam and his gleeful reaction – Chapter 34

For him, guns are the ultimate symbol of power and authority. He was introduced to these weapons of incredible power at such a young age – of course he loves them. That being said, it seems that Drake has always been “disturbed” so I suppose we can’t fully blame his father and step-father for his mind-set – and I have to say I don’t really like this. Drake’s issue as a character is that he is completely de-humanised by all the horrific things he does. By having it seem like Drake was irredeemable from the off-set, it just adds to this idea and again removes any possible depth or character development. Imo it would have been much better to present Drake as becoming the way he is AFTER his father’s death. It would bring a sense of tragedy to his character – the way he uses his father’s advice to hunt down Astrid would seem less like a by-product of his sadism and more like a misguided attempt to feel connected to his deceased father.

However, flawed though it is, this scene does give us some insight as to why Drake is the way he is – through the characterisation of his father. Admittedly we don’t get much, but one line really stood out to me, “Because if you have to shoot, you shoot to kill.” Ummm..sir?? I don’t think that’s how police officers work. Isn’t your goal to incapacitate – not to just kill on sight?? The fact that he not only stands by this rule himself, but also gives this advice to his CHILD is disconcerting. Drake is not only receiving this harmful rhetoric from his father figure but also a police officer. Someone who is meant to uphold the law. I think this links back to my earlier point on how Drake only recognises authority if it is gained by violent means. While we get no indication that his real father was ever violent to Drake or his mother, he openly tells Drake that when he is upholding the law (in this hypothetical situation) he does it by using force. That is a dangerous thing to tell a child, especially a child who you already think is disturbed. This twisted-take on a father-son relationship nicely sets the precedent for Drake’s warped perceptions, I just wish it had been developed further. And this leads us nicely into the next scene – the shooting of Holden:

“He remembered with vivid, slow-motion detail the time he had shot Holden, the neighbour’s kid who liked to come over and annoy him. That had been a bullet to the thigh, with a low-level calibre gun, and still the kid had nearly died. That ‘accident’ had landed Drake at Coates.”

Again, first and foremost I just wish we had a little bit more information. It is not clear whether this situation occurred before or after his father’s death – which seems like a pretty important detail to me. Although, we don’t actually find out that Drake’s father is dead within this book, and this omission again makes me feel like mg adding that detail was little more than an after-thought. It feels like in Light he wanted to quickly try and make Drake more of a sympathetic character and so he added in an abusive step-dad to try and tone down or at least explain Drake’s violence and misogyny. It seems like Drake is a plot-point first and a character second and the lack of detail here really highlights that for me. What purpose did these scenes really have in the story?? They did very little to flesh out his character, they introduced no new themes or relationships. It seems like mg just wanted to let us know – “Hey! Drake knows how to use a gun. That’s gonna be important later.” That being said, there are a couple of other things I would like to quickly mention. Firstly, I think the fact that Drake did not aim to kill Holden, even though he could have, is meant to be indicative of his change between then and now. It’s done to tell us that Drake wasn’t always this bad – there was at one point some hope. For this to have the desired effect though, I really think mg should have waited until after Drake lost his arm to straight up try and murder Astrid and Little Pete. Like, you can’t tell us that Drake was a little messed up but still redeemable before his maiming and then go and have him try to kill a random girl and her five year old brother. Because that’s more than a little messed up (and that’s not even mentioning the cementing). And it also contrasts the idea that Drake has always been disturbed. An idea that was introduced to us not even a page ago!! The other thing I wanted to pick up on, which I actually quite liked, is the ambiguous “who liked to come over and annoy him.” Because this is Drake’s point of view – so “annoy” could mean anything. Was Holden actually just an annoying kid?? Was he just trying to be Drake’s friend?? Or was he actually a bully and Drake doesn’t want to admit it?? I guess we’ll never know.

4.) DRAK’ES MOTIVATIONS

For this point, I wanted to focus on three particular motivators: Caine, Diana and Astrid. These are the three people, I believe, who provide, either consciously or unconsciously, the motivation for his actions within the FAYZ. I’ll start first with Astrid and Diana, the two people who Drake hates the most. Throughout this book it is clear that Drake has no real goals – he has no desire to be in control like Caine, no desire to re-invent the world like Albert. All he wants is to cause pain, with his preferred targets being these two. And, as I’ve said before, I think this is partly because he hates the authority that they have within the FAYZ – which stems from manipulation and intelligence rather than violence.

In Chapter 20, Drake explains his hatred for Diana, “Drake had made the time to check out Diana’s psych file the day after the FAYZ came. But her file had been missing by then. In its place she had left Drake’s file lying open on the doc’s desk and drawn a little smiley face beside the word ‘sadist’. Drake had already hated her. But after that, hating Diana had become a full-time occupation.” What I take from this scene, is that Drake’s loathing stems from Diana’s ability to get under his skin, to make him feel inferior – to annoy him. (Perhaps Holden had a similar talent). I’m going to assume that his prior hatred of her can be boiled down to his misogyny and his disgust at Caine’s weakness for her, both of which have been explicitly stated in the text. His hatred after this though, comes from a pretty mundane incident. I mean all she did was get there quicker, and do exactly what he was going to do to her. And so I think this loathing is less about what she did and more about his own personal reaction to it. Diana was able to weaponise Drake’s own anger against him – to make him feel inferior and powerless. She challenges Drake’s fragile perception of authority and takes a diagnosis that he seems to not only be ok with, but is actually proud of, and makes him feel embarrassed. His whole perception of power is rooted in the idea that his ability to inflict pain on others with no guilt or remorse is what makes him better, it is what gives him his power. But she takes this idea and belittles him for it and so his initial reaction is to attack. This is an idea that is again seen with Astrid. Astrid intentionally tries to make Drake feel inferior by bringing up his biggest insecurity, Diana’s treatment of him “Doesn’t it bother you that Diana treats you like some wild animal she keeps on a leash?” And she does escape him – twice. Her and her autistic brother (and we already know how Drake feels about autistic people). She also proves herself to be more intelligent than him, in their little argument over the r-slur. Drake only gets violent after he realises that, in an intellectual sense, she has more power than him. It seems to be his defence mechanism just as much as his pleasure – and therefore Astrid and Diana’s power over him motivates him to use it.

Now onto Caine. Caine and Drake’s relationship is, for me, one of the most interesting aspects of Drake’s character and while I’ll only be mentioning it in its capacity as a motivator here, I have a whole post planed out for it. Drake seems to simultaneously hate Caine and admire him. He is constantly looking to impress him and the only time we ever see Drake think about betraying him in this book is when Caine gives his attention to Diana rather than Drake. And, because of this, I can kind of understand why people ship them (although I personally dislike the idea of Drake being gay). A lot of the time this motivation is completely unprompted by Caine himself, like in these quotes:

“Drake cursed and, again, for just a moment, felt the almost desperate fear of failing Caine. He wasn’t worried about what Caine would do to him – after all, Caine needed him – but he knew if he failed to carry out Caine’s orders, Diana would laugh.” – Chapter 23

“I got him’ Drake announced. ‘I got them all.’ ‘Yes, you did,’ Caine said. ‘Good work, Drake.” – Chapter 34

In Chapter 23, it seems that both Drake’s need to impress Caine and his need to prove to himself that he is better than Diana are his main motivators for his extreme attack on Astrid. I think it’s important to note that he only planned on trying to catch her, until Caine told him to kill her. His sadistic nature is brought out in full because he needs to prove himself to Caine. But why does he?? If he is planning on taking over from Caine in the end, why does he have a “desperate fear of failing Caine”?? Sure, part of it is his desire to prove himself to be better than Diana. But even this has roots in his absolute need for Caine to take notice of him. Drake is drawn to Caine because of his power and authority over people. Caine seems to be the closest thing that Drake can get to an equal, someone who shares the same motivations, ambitions and worldview (of course Caine and Drake do not share these things, but Drake doesn’t realise this…yet.) He seeks validation from Caine because he wants to have these things in common with someone – yet another motivation for his hatred of Diana as she constantly gets in the way of this.

We also know that Caine is, at least, partly aware of his effect on Drake. He is paranoid that Drake will turn on him (because Caine sees being equal to someone as relinquishing power) and he is able to manipulate Drake’s misguided feelings when he wants to – most notably in Chapter 36:

“It’s not Diana or Chunk or even me,’ Caine said. ‘It’s none of us, Drake. It’s Sam. It’s Sam who did this to you, Drake. You want him to get away with it? Or do you want to live long enough to make him suffer?”

This is such a clever moments as it sets up Drake’s whole character in Hunger, and it’s false. Because yes, Sam is the one who burned Drake’s arm and Drake has every right and reason to hate him. But it was Caine who abandoned him to save himself. And it was Caine who refused to let Drake die, even though he was begging for it (and let’s face it, he didn’t refuse to kill him out of any affection – it was a selfish decision.) But Drake is so desperate for that equal, for that validation that his worldview is correct and is shared by another person, that he just idk forgets?? He never brings up this conversation again and just accepts Caine’s word as gospel. I have so much more to say about their relationship but, as I said, I’ll save it for a later post.

5.) DRAKE’S MENTAL STATE

And finally, we have Drake’s mental state. Now I’m not going to try and give him an official diagnosis or anything, but I wanted to make a small point specifically about his mental state after his maiming. I think we can all agree that what Drake went through was pretty horrific, and while I personally struggle to feel any amount of sympathy for him due his own list of horrific crimes, the change he goes through after this is extremely significant, or at least it’s supposed to be. I think mg wants us to believe that Drake’s descent into madness was directly cause by the loss of his arm, and that before that he did have the chance to be redeemed. I think whether you buy into this depends on how forgiving you are, but I want to focus more on the actual proof of change that we see.

I’ve already talked about the physical changes he goes through, and the implications of this so I’m going to focus solely on his mental state during and partly after the whole ordeal. I think the first and most important thing to talk about is the fact that Drake didn’t actually want to survive:

“Don’t cut off my arm,’ Drake cried. ‘Let me die. Just let me die. Shoot me.” – Chapter 36

He would rather die than lose his arm (his gun arm to be specific). Now, while I don’t doubt that the burning was indescribably painful, I’m still not sure that the majority of people would beg for death. Especially when an alternative (in this case losing his arm) is presented. Not to mention, he doesn’t actually talk about the pain when begging for his death – what he talks about is the loss of his arm. Of course it could be argued that the reason he didn’t want his arm to be cut off is because he knew it would mean more pain, but I don’t think that this is the case. Rather, I think that Drake is so scared of losing the power that he has, that he would genuinely rather die. This 14 year old boy is so messed up that his own death is preferable to the idea of no longer being able to hurt people. And so when he gets his power back, he doubles down. He has realised by this point what he truly wants, that he would rather die than be rendered powerless, so he begins committing more heinous acts (like attacking the prees). Pair this with the amount of pain that he went through, which most definitely will have had an effect on his already damaged brain, and you can see how a high-school bully became what he did. The groundwork for an interesting and though-provoking character was right here. I think yet again the problem with his character is the execution. Interesting aspects of his personality are dropped in favour of plot convenience and shock value and it cheapens his character as a whole until all the intended nuances are lost and over-shadowed.

I’m really sorry if this is a bit all over the place and not quite as polished as my other posts. I found Drake so difficult to write about and so my thoughts kept going haywire. Thank you so much for reading (and being patient with my brain). I hope you enjoy!!

#the gone series #Drake Merwin #character analysis #gone

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the-girl-in-the-box · 3 years

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Can You Imagine? VIII

A/N: More fun weirdness! I wanted to clarify something (again, because I am doing a lot of weird things here lol) really quick, and that is that any inconsistencies are meant to be there! Anything that feels like metagaming is supposed to be there as well. Basically, if it feels wrong? It isn't! I have begun to introduce a few more themes to this scenario, so hopefully you'll all be able to start figuring out what's going on here! If not, don't worry, all will be revealed soon :) Skål!

Summary: Freydis was dead. At least, when she’d lost consciousness, she’d been sure she was. But now she has woken up in a cold, sterile environment, one she is certain is not Valhalla, and the world as she once knew it has changed. People now have strange abilities, some of them, and people they call ‘scientists’ are trying to give them to her. The bigger issue, though, is the fact they have also woken the very man who killed her. Ivar the Boneless lives again as well, in the same way Freydis does, and if they want to survive… she may have to learn to trust him again.

Masterlist

Your Obedient Servant

Ivar had chosen to go to Vestfold. Freydis, now alone in Kattegat, could not stop pacing the floor of the Great Hall, anxiously waiting for her husband to return- to return with their baby. Her heart ached for the loneliness in her bed at night, and in her home during the day. Ivar would catch Harald by surprise, she was certain of it. He couldn't know what had happened in Kattegat, that they had caught the man who had been his spy in their walls, and worked the reply from him. Now, it was only a matter of time before her husband returned victorious to her.

But something else was coming, was happening there in Kattegat. Freydis was called from her chambers in the middle of the night by one of her husband's warriors. A ship had just come into Kattegat, and was docking as they spoke. So, she got up and she dressed. Whoever was coming couldn't know what had happened to her, and to her baby, and that her husband had gone to war to get him home.

She now sat in the Great Hall again, back straight on her throne, hands folded neatly in her lap, as she waited to be joined by the newcomers. There was no information yet on who they were, but she would know soon enough. She just had to be patient.

And her patience paid off. The doors were soon opened, and in were brought a few people who she hadn't expected to see. She didn't know them all well, but she recognized them from her years in Kattegat before Ivar became King again.

"Lagertha," she hummed, and stood to approach the older woman. "You are brave to come here. Why would you risk coming to Kattegat when you know Ivar would take your head, the moment he sees you?"

Lagertha gave a small, knowing smile. "And where is Ivar?" she questioned. "I can imagine you are his Queen, but why is it he would send you out to receive us, in the middle of the night? We could have been... anyone. Someone who would be a danger to you and this Kingdom."

"Aren't you?" Freydis pointed out. "You are his enemy, and he is King. I know you wish to take this Kingdom for yourself, or for your son, Bjorn Ironside. But Ivar has won Kattegat, and you will not have it."

"How do you know we won't take it? We could have an army coming behind us. Our goal could be to kill you, and then your husband, and we would have the throne."

One of the men behind her had said that, and she knew him to be Bjorn Ironside himself. Freydis smirked, and held up her hand.

"Because you could not kill me," she replied. "You can attack, but you will not win."

Lagertha, Bjorn, Ubbe, and Torvi all felt the tension in the room thicken when she lifted her hand. The guards, the warriors, were suddenly afraid. What power did their Queen have over them to make them so afraid? They had no desire to find out.

"Where is Ivar?" Ubbe asked, shifting on his feet and crossing his arms. "He wouldn't send his wife to do something important like this. He would come himself."

Freydis hummed and returned to sitting on her throne. "He has other business," she said. "You will all be held until he is able to see you." A flick of her hand, and the warriors were moving in to make an arrest.

"Held?" Lagertha asked, lifting a brow. "You mean that we are to be your prisoners, then?"

Freydis nodded. "I do," she said. "He should deal with you himself, Ubbe is right. I could, of course, deliver your heads to him on a plate, but he has expressed many times how he wishes to take them himself."

"And so you do not care why we have come to Kattegat?" Lagertha questioned then, and Freydis smiled with a false sweetness.

"I do not," she said. "You have come for some reason, business with my husband, I assume, and I will hold you so he can handle it with you when he is able to do so. Until then..." She chuckled. "I cannot say to make yourselves comfortable. Prison is not comfortable." She nodded to her warriors, and they locked the hands of each visitor together, before taking them away.

Well, this was certainly an unexpected turn of events, Freydis thought, and Freydis didn't like things to be unexpected. Unexpected things were hard to control, and she needed to have control here. No. She did have control here.

More and more days passed, and Ivar did not return home. He did not bring Baldur, and no word came from Vestfold. She was growing anxious now, wondering how long it would be before she got word.

One of these days, a farmer came to her, and begged an audience. He was panting, afraid, out of breath, and so Freydis granted him an audience immediately. Considering the lack of Ivar and Baldur returning, this farmer’s fear had her far more worried than she may have been before.

The farmer told Freydis that he had heard from others that scouts had been spotted within the borders of Kattegat, even if not within the city’s walls just yet. He couldn’t say who the scouts belonged to, what kingdom, but Freydis knew. There were no coincidences, and if Ivar had still not returned…

The men were Harald’s.

It took her hours to decide what to do, and as she stood and paced the length of her hall, she finally came to a decision- much as she hated it- for the good of her people. Freydis was no Shieldmaiden, no legendary figure to rally behind, but Lagertha, and Björn Ironside… They were figures who could get the entire kingdom to arms.

She called for Lagertha to be sent to her throne room.

As soon as the ex-Queen came into the room, Freydis ordered her restraints to be removed, and the guards in the room to leave them. The older woman was incredibly confused by all of this, watching the Queen look out a window, anxiety written so clearly across her features.

“I have no doubt you have realized Ivar is not in Kattegat,” she said, and Lagertha hummed in acknowledgement of this.

“I have,” she said. “He would not have put off this confrontation if he were here, as badly as he wants to kill me. It was the only conclusion I could draw.”

“You were correct,” Freydis said. “He has gone to King Harald.”

Lagertha seemed a bit surprised for a moment, and asked, “So Ivar is in York?”

Freydis looked to her, almost as if confused, and said, “King Harald is not in York. He is…”

“In Vestfold, of course,” Lagertha said, and shook her head. “Should I begin again?”

Freydis tilted her head. “Begin-?” she began to ask, but before she could finish her question, Lagertha was doing exactly as she’d asked if she should. It was if York had never been mentioned.

“So Ivar is in Vestfold?” she questioned, and Freydis blinked a few times.

“That… is my belief, yes,” she said slowly. Why had Lagertha asked if she should begin again? Why not simply correct herself? Freydis tested her. “Why would you think he was in York?”

“I never mentioned York,” Lagertha said. “King Harald rules from Vestfold, I do not see how York would be relevant.”

Freydis nodded a little. “Yes,” she confirmed. Perhaps some things were best unquestioned. “Before he left, I promised him I would have everything here under control, but I fear now that is not true. Scouts have been spotted entering Kattegat, and I have no doubt they are from Vestfold.”

Lagertha’s brows creased. She was beginning to get the picture, that Freydis was asking her for tactical advice. An interesting development, but a welcome one. “Why should King Harald send scouts here if your husband is visiting him, if you are allies?”

“Because I believe he has laid a trap for Ivar,” Freydis finally confessed. “And our son was the bait.”

Immediately, Lagertha grew more serious. Whatever her concerns with Ivar, whatever discontent was between them, neither Freydis nor her son were a part of that, and as a mother… She knew the fear Freydis must have been feeling. As a wife, as well. The only family Freydis had was likely in King Harald’s custody, and not as guests. It was a terrible thing.

“And the scouts have come to see what sort of defense was left in Kattegat,” Lagertha surmised. Freydis nodded.

“Ivar took enough warriors with him to save our son, but he would be invading Vestfold to do so. He needed more of our men with him than left here. But King Harald was counting on this, and now he has sent scouts to see if he was right.”

“Was he?” Lagertha asked. The almost miserable look on Freydis’s face answered her question. “And so what is it you want from me? I am a prisoner to you. I killed your husband’s mother. I know you… cannot be fond of me. So why have you called me?”

With a deep breath, Freydis replied, “Because I believe you love Kattegat, and the people of Kattegat. King Harald’s forces will attack, and you will want to save Kattegat. Am I wrong?”

Lagertha gave a small chuckle. “I doubt you ever are,” she said. “And you are not, now. You know I am a mother, and I have been a wife. I understand your pain. But though I may understand, I can do nothing, not without talking to Björn. He is our leader now, but if I can convince him to defend Kattegat, and help you rescue your husband and son, I will do so.”

“Ivar is Björn’s brother,” Freydis said. “Ubbe’s too. That will win them to my cause. Yes?”

Lagertha nodded. “Yes,” she confirmed. “It will.”

“And Torvi will follow Ubbe, and yourself.”

“She will.”

Freydis gave a curt nod. “Return to your company, then. I will wait for your decision.”

Less than an hour passed, and all four of those who had fled to Wessex stood before Freydis. She currently was debating with Björn, but she knew how this game was played. She had everything under control, and he would give in.

“We cannot save Ivar, just for him to turn against us, and mount our heads on the walls of Kattegat,” he was currently arguing, and Freydis rolled her eyes.

“You are his brothers, he would not hurt you,” she said.

“He tried to kill Sigurd.”

“No, he didn’t,” Freydis said, and Ubbe nodded.

“She is right,” he said. “He has never tried to hurt Sigurd. They are closest in age, and the closest brothers. He loves him.”

Björn only seemed confused for a moment, before he seemed to abandon the idea of Ivar hurting them at all. “We cannot be expected to fight for him for nothing, not when he has wronged us by taking our home,” he settled on.

“And so what do you want, in order to agree to this?” she asked.

“Ivar is our brother, we should fight to save him for that reason alone,” Ubbe said, and Björn scoffed.

“That is the only reason I am considering this,” he pointed out. “But I want the wrongs righted, if we do this.” Björn turned his gaze back to Freydis, and he announced, “I want the throne of Kattegat, if we are successful.”

All eyes widened, but Freydis nodded. “Done,” she said. Ivar might not kill one of his brothers, but Freydis was unafraid to do so, if it saved her husband and her son. Björn would never sit on the throne of Kattegat.

It was a shock when word spread, of the alliance that had been made, but just as Freydis had predicted, those in Kattegat who could fight had rallied quickly behind Lagertha and Björn, as well as Ubbe and Torvi, who were also well loved by them.

Preparations began to defend Kattegat, and all went smoothly. The people were trained, readied for battle, and when the time finally came, Freydis realized she always had had everything under control. After all, they defeated the men Harald sent with ease.

This had, of course, partially been due to the magic she possessed, and once the battle was won, the damage being repaired, she found herself sitting with Lagertha in the Great Hall, only the two of them. For a while, there had been perfect silence, neither wanting to speak of the rather large topic that waited to be addressed. Eventually, Lagertha was the one to bring it up.

“Ivar’s mother was a Seeress,” she said. “Perhaps a Völva, I cannot say for sure.” Freydis looked up at her curiously, tilting her head to the side as she waited for Lagertha to continue. “I had… previously heard of your power, that it was said you, also, were a Völva, a stronger one, but the power I have seen you wield today is nothing like I have seen in all my years of life.”

Freydis hummed, nodding slowly, almost as if to herself. “You are correct,” she finally replied. “There are none who have my power, not in this world. I imagine in another world, perhaps there may be more like me, but here, I am alone in my abilities.”

“You are not a Völva, are you?” Lagertha questioned, and Freydis shook her head. “A witch? A sorceress?”

Freydis couldn’t help the soft chuckle that left her. “I wish I knew,” she said. “I have debated if monster weren’t the right word more than I am happy to say.” She sighed. “Some days, I wish I did not have this power. I wish things were just Ivar, myself, and Baldur. This… magic, I have…” The young woman held up her hand, letting the red smoke seep out of her, dance at he fingertips once more. “I hardly understand it. I have never been a Shieldmaiden, nor did I ever desire to be one, and yet I am more fit to defending this Kingdom than any I have met before.”

She would have excused her statement to Lagertha, but she spoke the truth. It would have been no good. Lagertha had seen the way Freydis had simply lifted men twice her size, thrown them into the side of a building with a red haze and broken their backs, the way she had caught a ball of fire, hurled at them from a distance, in that same red haze, and returned it to their enemies. She had seen her eyes glow red, had seen men on the battlefield lose consciousness from shock and fear, and those were the ones now held in the same place Lagertha and her companions had been kept, waiting until Freydis could demand information about her husband and child from them.

Lagertha had never met someone with the power Freydis held, and that was the truth to the Gods.

“What will we do about Ivar?” she eventually asked, as the silence stretched out once more, and Freydis hummed.

“At first light, I will learn all I can. Then we will depart for Vestfold with our new forces, I will take King Harald’s head, and we will save Ivar and Baldur.”

There was another nod from Lagertha, who finished her ale, and stood. “Then I must rest,” she said. “I am not as young as I once was, and battle is harder on these bones.” Freydis chuckled a little and nodded.

“I understand,” she said. “I doubt if I will sleep tonight.”

The confession didn’t surprise either of them, and so Lagertha put her hand on Freydis’s arm, and tilted her chin up with her still free hand.

“With the power in your veins, we will not be defeated,” she assured her. “You know you will win the battle for us. You will kill Harald, as you said, and we will save your husband, and your son. Rest with the knowledge you will be the decider of this battle, and that you cannot lose. And if you cannot sleep, then pray for us all. I fear many of us still will lose our lives in this battle.”

“Not you, though,” Freydis said. “I have heard you were a farmer once, hm?” Lagertha nodded. “You will be again, if you wish. My husband will spare you, when he learns what you have done for him. Saving his child will be payment enough for killing his mother.”

Lagertha smiled a little, giving Freydis’s shoulder a squeeze. “I hope your words are true,” she said. “But if they are not, I will face Ivar in any way he decides.”

With that, she left Freydis to her drink, and left her to stew in it. They were all going into the dark, she felt, and there was little she could do to dispel that feeling. The best she could do was prepare for the next battle, hopefully that would be in the city of Vestfold, where they could corner Harald’s army, and save Ivar and Baldur.

Thoughts of strategy filled her mind, and as she said to Lagertha, she did not sleep that night. She could not sleep, not if she wanted to keep a careful control of everything.

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius, @katfett, @zuzus-sun, @heavenly1927, @punkrocknpearls, @pomegranates-and-blood

If you want to be added to the taglist, feel free to reach out either by commenting, reblogging, DMing me, or sending an ask, and I’ll be more than happy to add you!

#ivar the boneless #ivar #ivar ragnarsson #freydis #queen freydis #ivar x freydis #freyvar #alex hogh andersen #alicia agneson #ivar's heathen army #vikings #vikings history channel #history channel vikings #can you imagine?#chapter eight

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imaginesupply · 3 years

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Homecoming - Chapter Six

(I know it's Henry and not Sy in the photo, but it just fit too well with this chapter.)

Summary: The day has arrived, Captain Syverson is going home. For good, this time. He is going home to a civilian life he can hardly remember and a wife he barely knows, with memories of the war still fresh on his mind. Love might not be able to heal everything on its own, but it’s a good start.

Genres: Romance, drama.

Story warnings: Smut (always fully consensual), mentions of PTSD and nightmares and mental health, angst, hurt and comfort, fluff, mentions of war (minor), mentions of cheating (minor), mentions of pregnancy (very minor), police appearance (very minor), violence (very minor).

Notes:

It’s my first time writing for one of Henry’s characters and I’m unsure I did Sy’s character any justice.

This is a Capt. Syverson x OFC (Ada) story, written in 3rd person POV but OFC’s physical description is very limited so it could also be read as Capt. Syverson x Reader, I think.

English is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes. Proofread, but not beta’ed. We die like men and all that.

Timeline is a little wacky: The movie takes place in 2003 and the U.S. forces were withdrawn from Iraq in 2011, but I never set a precise date because I don’t think it’s essential for this story. However, some elements might not be realistic because if we set this story in 2003: Phone cameras quality was not as good as it’s now, but for the purpose of the chapters, I will need you to imagine you could film great videos with your flip phone haha. Plus, it says Sy is coming back after being deployed for more than three years which makes no sense unless we set this in 2006 or later. I am asking you disregard any time inconsistencies.

Also: I am not American. I only lived in the US for six months and it was in the Midwest, not Texas so please bear with me if I write something stupid.

Finally: This will be a Christmas fic and I intend to post the last chapter (there will be seven in total) on or before Christmas. However, religion is never mentioned in this story and the Christmas-sy elements of this story are limited to family gathering, gift giving and tree decorating.

Chapter Six starts after the cut. (Chapter Five can be found here.) Let me know if you wish to be tagged in the last chapter or if you wish to be removed from the tag list.

I will post a master list soon and put the link in the comments to make it easier to navigate.

Chapter 6

Chapter warnings: Smut, Christmas themes, mentions of therapy, embarrassing moments.

Ada didn't mind being woken up with soft fluttering kisses on her neck. She definitely didn't mind starting the day with the tantalizing rub of his beard on her sensitive skin and the hard press of his torso against her back, their legs entwined and his morning erection nuzzled against her butt.

What she did mind, however, was when any of this happened at the butt crack of dawn. Ada opened her eyes just enough to read 6:50am on the alarm clock.

"Sy," she groaned, stopping his wandering hands with hers, trying to trap them beneath her breasts. "Hold that thought for later, okay?"

She heard him chuckle behind her, his chest vibrating against her body as he freed his hands from her weak grip. "Later is for putting up the Christmas tree and the decorations," he teased, his right hand now drawing circles low on her stomach.

Ada groaned again, wanting to fight his tempting touch but unwilling to move away from his body heat. "I'll get up at 7:30." Those were the last words out of her mouth before she had drifted off again.

When she woke up once more, forty minutes later with the blast of her alarm clock, her back was cold and the smell of breakfast wafted through the air, filling her nostrils. Damn Syverson and his military sleep schedule! She had taken all her days off to spend them with him only to wake up even earlier than when she was working.

With barely open eyes, Ada threw on his shirt that hung on the chair and slowly made her way downstairs, following the scent of pancakes. She found Sy in front of the stove, just finishing up the last one before setting it on the huge pile of pancakes that looked fluffier than clouds. Ada had quickly learnt that while Sy was a disaster when it came to the art of cooking, he was the master of pancakes and barbecue.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," he greeted her and then smirked when he noticed her attire.

"Morning captain," she mumbled, walking up to him before patiently waiting until he leant down so that they could share a kiss. It always made him laugh when she did that: the adorable pout on her face when he didn't bend down for a kiss fast enough was worth waiting the extra second every time.

They ate in relative silence, mostly because Ada definitely wasn't a morning person, but the fact that Sy had a habit of stuffing his mouth full of food also played a role. When she was done eating, Ada pushed her plate and glass away, and brought her knees up to her chest, hugging her legs on the chair. She eyed her husband intently, waiting for him to finish eating with a grin on her lips.

"Why are you looking at me like that, darlin'?" Sy asked, eyebrow raised suspiciously before taking the last sip of his morning coffee.

Ada blushed, suddenly looking bashful. "Well… I was hoping we could go back upstairs and continue what you started earlier," she admitted in a tiny voice.

Sy laughed, a booming sound that filled the entire room before a shit-eating grin spread on his lips. "Tough luck, darlin'." He got up from his chair, standing in front of her across the narrow table. "Should have thought about that before falling asleep on me earlier."

Ada's mouth fell open. The cheek on this man! And what made it worse, was his huge smile that made him look like a very amused bear, with his hairy, tempting chest. He was toying with her. "Are you really saying no to sex?" She asked, cocking her brow. Sy wasn't really the type to turn down-

"Yes, no sex." He stated, suddenly looking very serious. "We have to head to the store to buy decorations, then put up the tree and hang the lights outside." Ada tried her best not to laugh. He sounded as if he were explaining a major, life or death, mission to her – not Christmas preparations. "You’re dismissed but I expect you back here in fifteen minutes, dressed and ready to go." With that, he turned around and started gathering the plates and silverware to put them in the dishwasher.

"Yes, sir."

Ada knew better than to talk back. First, when he had something in mind, it was nearly impossible to talk him out of it. Second, she hoped that the sooner they were done with this, the sooner she could get laid. Third, he had used his Captain voice that somehow always managed to make an obedient little soldier out of her.

Though, rationally, she also didn't want to make it any more difficult for him. He had confessed to her a few nights ago why he'd felt so uneasy when they had gone grocery shopping: the gondolas were too tall which led to lots of blind spots and the amount of people meant he couldn't rely on his hearing sense to detect potential danger. 'It just screams ambush,' he told her.

Ada couldn't quite imagine what he must have experienced that a supermarket or a store would translate into danger, but it was not her place to question him. Instead, she had kissed his forehead in bed and offered to start doing their shopping on her own. Sy had promptly refused, suggesting they simply go early in the mornings, when there were less people and less distracting noises.

Now at Target, she was immensely glad she had gotten out of bed, the sight alone was worth it. It wasn't everyday you'd see Sy pick up a bunch of Christmas tree baubles and inspect each one of them carefully before determining which ones were worthy enough to make it to their living room. Ada sneaked a picture for safekeeping and then decided to send it to his mom as well. Family dinner was fast-approaching, and she'd seize all the cookie points she could get.

"Darlin'," Sy called, catching her attention. He was holding up an inflatable Santa who, instead of carrying gifts, dragged a bag full of liquor bottles and sported a drunk grin on his face. It was tacky beyond words. "Do 'you think we should get this, or will it just upset the neighborhood kids?"

Ada grimaced but tried to disguise it with a smile. She’d die before letting that thing on their lawn. “I think a neighborhood dog would tear it to bits within a second," she lied, trying to appear apologetic.

"Yeah, you're probably right."

°°°

The lights were up. It was a much quicker process with Sy's help. It was also the occasion for Ada to just sit back and relax because he was adamant, she shouldn’t step on a ladder to help. Instead, she had a glass of bourbon waiting for him for when he finished. It was 5pm somewhere after all.

"You said we had a tree!" Sy's deep voice reached her from the basement.

Ada threw her head back, sighing, before hurrying downstairs after him. "Yes, it's in that box over there," she pointed at a white cardboard box behind a couple of spare tires.

"Woman, it's tiny!" Sy complained, picking up the box and setting it down between them. It was about as tall as her. It was not that small.

"It's the one I've used every year since I moved in. It's pretty enough and doesn't take up too much space,” she defended.

In front of her, Sy exhaled loudly through his nostrils before rubbing his beard. She knew that move. It's what he did to remind himself she was not a soldier under his command, but his wife, and that he better measure his words unless he wanted to sleep on the sofa.

"Look, darlin'," he said calmly, enclosing her small hands in his much bigger ones. "This is my first Christmas home with my wife. I refuse to put up a minuscule, fake sapling in my home and call it a Christmas tree."

Ada was slightly taken aback. She didn’t know Christmas was this important to him. Though it was true he had been overseas on Christmas the past two years, so she could understand where he was coming from with wanting this Christmas to matter. Besides, it was endearing when he put it like that.

With a nibble on her lip, Ada gave in. "Okay. They're selling trees in that parking lot by the pharmacy."

Sy slowly shook his head, a mischievous look on his face. "No. We're going to get our own pine tree from the woods."

You gotta be kidding me, she groaned internally.

°°°

Ada had no idea where they were. It hadn’t been that long of a ride, but there were no more houses or streets to be seen around them, just endless fields and a forest. It was only when Sy took a right turn, that she started spotting cars and what looked to be a very colorful barn which had been converted into a cozy boutique.

“Where are we?” She asked, staring out of the window as Sy looked for a place to park his truck.

“The Dallagher’s ranch,” he replied. “They do a corn maze and a pumpkin patch in the Fall, and in the Winter, you can pick up your own Christmas tree. My dad used to take Claire and I here every year.”

Oh… This was a family tradition. No wonder Sy made such a big deal about having a real tree for Christmas.

Once out of the car, they walked hand in hand through the dirt road until they reached the makeshift counter made of hay where you could get a handcart before heading out into the man-made pine forest and select a Christmas tree. Most people she saw, however, were already returning the handcarts and happily carrying their trees to their parked cars.

The old man by the cash register seemed to recognize Sy instantly, smiling warmly as he greeted him with a one-armed hug. Ada realized it was the ranch’s owner. “I haven’t seen you in years, Jack!” The old man exclaimed with a laugh before turning to Ada. “And who’s this pretty lady?”

“This is Ada, my wife,” Sy said, introducing them. He watched with amusement as Ada stumbled as the old man hugged her without a warning, taking her by surprise.

“Well, it’s great to meet you, Ada,” the man nodded once he had retreated, and then turned back to Sy. “Should I be offended I wasn’t invited to the wedding?” He teased.

Sy was already wrapping his arm around her shoulders, chuckling. “To be honest, Dallagher, there were no guests at the wedding,” he replied, amused at the way the old man frowned in a confused manner at that piece of information. “Actually, we came here to get a tree.”

“Of course!” Dallagher immediately turned and ordered the young boy in overalls to fetch them a handcart. “What size did you have in mind?”

“Something around seven feet,” Sy said, looking pensive as Ada looked up at him suspiciously, trying to figure out how much seven feet converted to in the metric system. Once she’d done the math, she pulled at Sy’s flannel sleeve to protest – that was way too big, it’d take up the whole living room – but the Dallagher’s grandson was already handing them the cart and leading them to the entrance.

“Trees that big are at the very back of the forest, you’ll have to walk a little.”

This turned out to be quite an understatement. Ada felt like they had been walking for literal years. While they had still come across other people at the beginning, mostly families, they were on their own now – that is if you didn’t count the many squirrels that kept appearing out of nowhere.

She stopped, grabbing the back of Sy’s red tartan shirt so he would be forced to pause as well. “Can’t we just take one of these?” Ads suggested, gesturing at the countless trees all around them. They were all pretty enough and considerably taller than her.

Sy huffed, biting his lip in amusement as he looked at her dispirited face. He’d told her she should probably get changed and wear more comfortable shoes before they left home, but she had insisted she wasn’t going to change clothes just to get a goddamn tree. “These are only around six feet, darlin’. And,” he paused, eyeing the trees more closely, “they’re not Nordmann firs. I want a Nordmann.”

Ada sighed defeatedly, but nodded all the same, starting to walk again when Sy took pity on her. “Do you want to sit on the handcart?”

The change on his wife’s face was instant, the frown lifting into a smile as she climbed on the cart and sat down in the middle, evening out her weight for him. “Is that better, darlin?” He asked teasingly.

She turned her head back just to make sure he saw her rolling her eyes.

By the time they reached an area with Nordmann trees that Sy considered nice and big enough, her butt was sore from the conjunction of the hard, wooden surface and the uneven ground. She wasn’t even sure she had made the better call or whether it would have been better to suffer in her new ankle boots instead.

“Which one is better?” Sy asked, pointing at two pine trees that looked virtually identical to her.

Ada shrugged, almost saying that he should choose before realizing how much time that would take. The man wasn’t picky about food, bedlinen or even the pillow he slept with, but apparently, he had to make sure he brought home the most perfect tree. She still couldn’t wrap her head around that. “The left one,” she said finally.

“Which one? Your left or my left?”

Breathing in deeply, she decided to just point at the tree she was talking about. Sy nodded thoughtfully and grabbed the saw he had brought with him and started to work on the tree. While she had been most eager to get this whole thing over with, it became an entirely different story now as she dreamily stared at her husband getting to work.

With most of his back facing her and one knee on the forest’s soft ground as he started sawing off the Nordmann fin, Sy looked absolutely delicious. The red flannel shirt unbuttoned over his white t-shirt and the jeans made him perfect sight with anyone with a lumberjack fantasy. Ada had never considered herself as having such a kink. A uniformed soldier, or even better, a captain? Hell yes. A strong, rugged husband capable of her breaking her in half? Also a big yes. A lumberjack? The thought had never crossed her mind in the past but there was no point in denying it now as she sat back on the wooden cart, watching Sy carefully saw down the giant tree.

She was wet. Horny. Aroused. You name it. It also didn’t help that they hadn’t had sex that day. Yet.

"Sy," she whined, just loud enough to get his attention, while swinging her legs in the air like a child.

"I'm almost done, darlin'," Sy responded, not bothering to turn around to look at her. "I want a nice, clean cut."

Yeah, and she want a nice, dirty fuck. Pouting, she watched him for a couple more seconds as he knelt in front of the base of the tree, deciding from which side he should bring the saw to the trunk next in order to make it even.

That was when Ada decided she was tired of waiting. Shuffling quietly, she slipped off her wet panties from under her dress and rolled them into a small ball before throwing it at her husband. It hit his left shoulder and rolled down his chest. Grinning wickedly, she leaned back on her shoulders and enjoyed the view, the muscles on his back shifting as he picked up the garment off the ground. If this didn't get her laid, nothing else would.

"Ada Metz Syverson," Sy groaned out her full name slowly, his voice even deeper than usual. He got back up on his feet and turned to face her, looking stern.

Suddenly she didn't feel so brave anymore, not when he had crossed the distance to her in two determined strides and went to tower over her small, sitting frame. His jaw was set, and his eyes were a darker shade of blue than usual. Ada moved her eyes down his body, her eyes pausing at the defined pectorals on his chest before sliding lower. He was definitely hard, the bulge on his jeans prominent.

"Just remember you asked for this."

She wanted to ask what this was supposed to be, but he didn’t give her the chance. “Legs,” he ordered, patting his shoulder as he came to stand just inches away from her. Almost unconsciously, she obeyed his order, her ankles coming to rest on the front of his shoulders, her feet framing his neck. “That’s a good girl,” he praised her with a quick kiss to her right calf before his large hands moved to the front of his jeans, just over the protruding tent and began undoing the belt and snap.

From this angle, Sy’s cock looked even bigger, the shiny glans flushed a deep pink. Ada swallowed tightly, her legs already shaking with anticipation and he hadn’t even touched her yet. Pumping his shaft with his right hand, Sy brought his left one to her core, rubbing the rough pad of his thumb over clit once or twice before sliding it between her folds. She was a dripping mess. Sy smirked when she keened eagerly at his touch, enjoying his ministrations until he pulled his hand away and brought it to his mouth, licking off her slick. “It’s good you’re so wet already because I just can’t wait to take you, darlin’.”

He wasn’t lying when he said he couldn’t wait. The next thing he did, was grabbing hold of his throbbing, hard cock and guiding himself into her. Ada moaned loudly at the intrusion, drowning out Sy’s own growl as her walls clenched around his cock, trying to get used to the abruptness and depth of the penetration.

“Fuck, Sy!” She cried out, not even sure what it was she wanted. “Don’t stop,” was all she could muster as he ploughed into her like there was no tomorrow, hitting her pleasure all at once.

He knew they were being too loud. They might be alone, but they were still out in the open air, and yet he just couldn’t find it in himself to care – not when she felt this good around his cock and her noises only heightened his fervor. If someone happened to stumble upon them, then they’d simply be in for a premium show,

It wasn’t long until her legs started shaking almost uncontrollably up in the air, prompting him to remove one hand from his steely grip on her hip and wrap his arms around her legs to keep them steady as he continued with jackhammer thrusts. “Are you going to cum for me, darlin’?” Sy panted, groaning out the question between clenched teeth even though he already knew the answer.

Ada didn’t manage to reply, the first waves of her orgasm already coursing through her when she moaned his name. Her hips canted up, her body tensed up like a bolt, and Sy knew he was done for right then. Her warm walls squeezed him impossibly tight inside of her, milking the cum right out of his cock while he fought to keep his balance as pleasure overtook him.

They came down from their heights slowly, chests heaving. Sy lazily removed her legs from his shoulders, massaging the strained muscles on her inner thighs before he set her legs down. This woman would be the end of him. “That was…” he panted, bending forward over her body to kiss her forehead, unable to find a proper adjective to describe what had just happened.

“Yeah,” Ada breathed out, nodding slowly.

Sy ended up having to carry her and the tree on the cart back to his truck because there was no way she was able to walk straight after that.

°°°

They finished decorating the giant tree. Ada had to admit it looked pretty although the red and gold decorations clashed with the color theme of their living room. She handed Sy the newly purchased baubles one by one – he was the only one capable of reaching the top.

On their way back home, she had somehow managed to convince Sy to stop at the therapist’s office – the one she had found had the highest ratings on Google. They had booked the first available appointment, which was just after the New Year and Sy had made it very clear to their secretary it was just a ‘testing appointment’ and that there was no need to set aside time slots for follow-up sessions yet because there was no guarantee he’d be back. His reluctance was palpable, but Ada was glad he was giving it a try at least. And if he didn’t like, then they’d figure out something else.

In the background, their wedding video kept playing and she wondered for how much longer she'd have to hear the sound of camera flashes as the chapel assistant took way too many photos of them in the most cliché poses you could imagine. Sy has insisted they put on their wedding video since they’d never gotten around to watch it and it fit the season, according to him. Slowly, the annoying sounds began fading away and Ada sighed with relief. Watching herself on TV sparked too much embarrassment in her.

"Hand me the big one with Rudolph, will you, darlin'," Sy asked from behind her, still meticulously decorating the tree.

Ada nodded, searching for the bauble he had in mind. It was still in the shopping bag, she remembered, lifting it off the floor to dig inside it.

Ada froze as a female chuckle was heard, unconsciously gripping the glass ornament too tightly in her hand. "Not that fast, Captain."

Behind her, Sy frowned. "What did you say?"

"Tonight, I'm in charge," she heard her own voice say - no, it was more like a purr.

"Shit!" Ada cursed loudly, letting the bauble fall back inside the bag and she hurried to the TV, her worst fear confirmed.

Sy followed her quickly, stopping just behind her, his hands on her shoulders. "Is that from our wedding night?" He asked slowly, his eyes locked on the screen as he watched his younger self being tied up to the bedposts by his wife.

"Yes," Ada cringed, her face a painful grimace. "I didn't even remember the sex tape."

"Me neither," Sy swallowed loudly, admittedly rapidly becoming aroused at the sight of his Ada doing a striptease on camera. She wore that red ensemble with the garter belt.

"I think the assistant never really ended the video after our wedding, only paused it and we later continued filming in the hotel instead of starting a new video," Ada commented, now understanding what had happened. How they’d even came up with the idea of filming a sex tape on their wedding night, she didn't know. Alcohol had probably played a part in it.

Sy was still staring in awe at the TV, enthralled by the sight of his wife deviously edging him, her hips swaying slowly, when her words slowly registered in his head. "Didn't we send copies of the video to our families?" He stammered, his voice uncharacteristically quiet and hesitant.

Silence fell between them as they both realized they had been dumb enough to send copies before watching it themselves. "Fuck!" Ada barked, seizing the remote to pause the video. "We sent that to my parents, your parents, your sister...," she listed, her face losing all color.

Suddenly, the sound of Sy's deep laughter filled her ears. She turned to him, aghast. How could he find this funny? This was peak cringe! She’d be one needing therapy after this!

"You know, darlin', watching this video was the first time my parents ever saw their daughter-in-law, before even meeting you in person." Sy explained, shaking his head with amusement.

Ada was mortified. No wonder Mr. Syverson had seemed on the verge of laughter the first time they'd met and Helen had given her the side eye. The woman had a USB stick in her home with an hour-long video of Ada fucking her son. "You know, Sy, this wedding video is also the first thing my parents saw of you." He stopped laughing abruptly, his face red, all amusement gone.

They both sat down on the couch next to each other, slowly coming to terms with the fact that pretty much their whole families had seen this, and never said anything, probably keeping it as an inside joke.

Sy broke the silence, his large hand reaching to rub her naked thigh. "You know, I don't think we should be embarrassed," he said, prompting her to stare back up at him, eyebrow raised dubiously. "The way you tied up my arms really enhanced my biceps and you looked adorably hot like a vicious kitten from hell."

°°°

@colourmeinblue @hail-horror-queen @youthought-iwasa-nicegirl @kmuir1 @madbaddic7ed @coffeebreathy @purplelove75 @summersong69 @helenaellie @rn7rocks

#henry cavill smut #syverson smut #henry cavill x reader #syverson x reader #henry cavill x ofc #syverson x ofc

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