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theusurpersdog · 6 years ago

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Floppy Ears

A Dance with Dragons is the most important arc Daenerys has had since she hatched her dragons at the end of A Game of Thrones, and is a huge turning point for the trajectory of her character. And while GRRM’s books have always been incredibly detailed and focused on character, this book and A Feast for Crows is when he really mastered that style. Those two things combined make Daenerys’ ten chapters incredibly dense, and full of very important details. If I were to write it all out in one post, it would be just ridiculously long (and considering the length of my other posts, that’s really saying something. . .). To try and keep these posts from turning into books, I’m going to split my analysis of Dany in A Dance with Dragons into three separate posts; one dealing with the political aspects of her arc, the next a look at the outside forces that influence Dany’s decision making, and the last will center on the personal struggle that defines her arc. Here is the first, where I breakdown the political merits of Queen Daenerys Targaryen. . .

Holding Court

Running parallel to all of the symbolic choices and struggles Daenerys makes in A Dance with Dragons is the practical decisions she makes as Queen of Meereen. GRRM is famous for his quote about “Aragorn’s tax policy”, and it is clear that he tries to answer that question in this book. We get chapter after chapter that gives Daenerys a new political trial, and get to see and examine how she decides to move passed it. The first three books gave us small moments to look at and decide how Daenerys would rule Westeros, but A Dance with Dragons gives us definitive examples of how she would. This book asks would Daenerys be a good queen? and also gives us the answer: No.

Whenever Daenerys has to face the Meereenese as their queen, she thinks to herself that she is putting on her “floppy ears”, in reference to something Brown Ben Plumm tells her:

"Man wants to be the king o' the rabbits, he best wear a pair o' floppy ears."

This quote works so well to summarize Dany’s time in Meereen for a couple different reasons. The first is that it perfectly describes how Daenerys feels about being queen; she hates the rich Meereenese, former slavers who plot behind her back and have traditions that Dany hates, and she could never view herself as one of them. Dany feels as if she must pretend to be a part of them. But it also gets at a deeper truth of Daenerys’ arc - she is just pretending to be a queen; it doesn’t come naturally to her. She has to don her “floppy ears” to be a queen, and start pretending. She has to face many impossible choices in this book, and her anger is righteous in many circumstances, but that doesn’t change the fact that she is not a good queen, and in fact hardly even wants to be one. I’ll get into it more when I breakdown the personal part of Dany’s A Dance with Dragons arc (this meta focusing on the political), but to be queen of Meereen, Dany has to fight against her own nature. The way GRRM plotted this book so expertly, all of the political struggles Daenerys faces are reflections of her own personal struggles with staying in Meereen, each problem designed to get at a different part of Dany’s psyche and push her closer to the choice she ultimately makes in Daenerys IX and X.

When Daenerys holds court in Meereen, she is faced with many grievances that she must have an answer to, many from the noble class that she despises. What I find most interesting about these, is that Daenerys has something in common with all of the men she refuses to help. These are the stories she hears:

A rich woman came, whose husband and sons had died defending the city walls. During the sack she had fled to her brother in fear. When she returned, she found her house had been turned into a brothel.

A boy came, younger than Dany, slight and scarred, dresses up in a frayed grey tokar trailing silver fringe. His voice broke when he told of how two of his father’s household slaves had risen up the night the gate broke. One had slain his father, the other his elder brother. Both had raped his mother before killing her as well. The boy had escaped with no more than the scar upon his face, but one of the murderers was still living in his father’s house, and the other had joined the queen’s soldiers as one of the Mother’s Men.

The parallels Dany shares to these people are quite clear. The first woman she hears fled her house when the city was sacked, just as Rhaella fled the Red Keep when she was pregnant with Dany; yet Dany refuses to give the Meereenese woman her home back, even though Dany herself is determined to retake King’s Landing in her family’s name.

Daenerys also parallels the son in the second story, who has to see the men who raped and murdered his mother live in his house and work for the queen (Dany). This sounds very much like Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch being rewarded for killing Elia Martell. Dany turns the son away, and continues to let the murdering rapist serve her; yet, when she thinks of how the same thing happened to her family, Dany refers to the men as “dogs” and is disgusted by Robert Baratheon for allowing it.

The most interesting decision Daenerys makes, though, is how she responds to this story:

Grazdan zo Galare asked that he be granted a portion of their earnings. “They owe their skill to me,” he insisted. “I plucked them from the auction bloc and gave them to the loom.”

Dany listened quietly, her face still. When he was done. She said, “What was the name of the old weaver?”

“The slave?” Grazdan shifted his weight, frowning. “She was . . . Elza, it might have been. Or Ella. It was six years ago she died. I have owned so many slaves, Your Grace.”

“Let us say Elza. Here is our ruling. From the girls, you shall have nothing. It was Elza who taught them weaving, not you. From you, the girls shall have a new loom, the finest coin can buy. That is for forgetting the name of the old woman.”

Through these grievances, GRRM is giving us the chance to judge Daenerys based on her own morality. There is plenty of debate about what exactly it means that Dany forgets Hazzea’s name in her last chapter, but the above passage tells us what that means to Dany herself. When she sees that behavior in someone else, she is appalled; she goes out of her way to punish Grazdan specifically for forgetting the slave’s name. Judging Daenerys by her own standards, she has failed Hazzea.

Besides these stories painting Dany as a hypocrite (since she is doing everything that she turns the Meereenese away for), they also start to teach Dany a lesson about being a queen; it is really hard. Dany never realizes how these stories connect to her, but she does begin to understand how impossible it is to make some decisions. When she turns down the son whose mother was raped and house stolen, this is what she thinks:

I am queen over a city built on dust and death. Dany had no choice but to deny him. She had declared a blanket pardon for all crimes committed during the sack. Nor would she punish slaves for rising up against their masters.

And after the boy lunges to attack her, but trips on his tokar and is led away, Dany realizes that that the Harpy has gained another Son.

And while Dany never consciously thinks back on the decisions she’s made and how similar they are to Robert Baratheon’s, on a subconscious level she does soften towards him. When she watches the pit fighter gored by a boar, she thinks of him:

A terrible creature and a terrible death. For a heartbeat she felt almost sorry for the Usurper.

Dany from the first three books would never give even that much thought to Robert Baratheon.

The last decision Daenerys makes while holding court that day, is when she is presented with Hazzea’s bones. While Drogon had never killed a person before, we learn that it is a growing problem that he’s killing people’s livestock:

Her dragons had grown too large to be content with rats and cats and dogs. The more they eat, the larger they will grow, Ser Barristan had warned her, and the larger they grow, the more they’ll eat. Drogon especially ranged far afield and could easily devour a sheep a day.

Since Drogon is stealing and eating so many people’s sheep, and Daenerys doesn’t want to sit and speak to all of them, she agrees to give them all the value of their sheep:

The pronouncement was received in sullen silence. You would think they might be happier, Dany thought. They have what they came for. Is there no way to please these people?

This quote says a lot about Daenerys. In her mind, the people should be happy because she’s willing to give them back what they lost, failing to consider how much trouble it would be for them to gather up the bones of their dead animals, bring them to Dany’s pyramid, and wait all day for just the chance to be heard by her. Dany thinks many of them lie about Drogon to try and get money or sheep, and thinks they should just be happy she’s giving them anything at all.

It’s also one of the first times that Daenerys’ thoughts drift to how much she hates the Meereenese. I think most people just assume that Daenerys’ hatred of the city is limited to the Nobles and former Slavers who disgust her, but that isn’t true; she thinks that she hates the former slavers more often because she is forced to interact with them more often, but when Dany is around the freedman and lower classes she doesn’t like them either:

Daenerys was sick unto death of Zhak and Merreq; she was sick of all the Meereenese, great and small alike.

Dany tries very hard to make her rule of Meereen work, and from a broad political perspective even manages to achieve that, but her own personal bias against the city make it impossible to sustain the peace she creates. While a lot of Dany’s fights are over important things, the small battles she chooses are very telling; she hates the way the Meereenese style their hair and has her advisors shave their head because of it, hates the local food and delicacies, and takes a hard stand against the fighting pits (I’ll get into that more later). In the big picture, these little battles Dany chooses to fight are meaningless and just serve to alienate her from the people, but she does it anyway. Because she hates Meereen; not just the slavery or the toxic elements of the culture, but everything.

All of these decisions Daenerys makes while holding court occur in the first chapter, because there is a huge gap where she doesn’t hear the people’s complaints. It isn’t clear exactly how long she goes between hearing the people, but Daario tells her that the people don’t believe she is real, which implies quite a long time. And when Daario tells her she should, she replies:

“No. On the morrow I will be a woman wed, and Hizdahr will be king. Let him hold court. These are his people.”

The only reason she does hold court is because Daario said she would and Dany doesn’t want to disappoint him. But just the thought exhausts her:

The prospect of wrestling with Meereen once more left her feeling weary.

Daenerys really does throw herself into being queen - marrying Hizdahr proves that - but she still can’t bring herself to do the day to day tasks of a queen.

Choices

Seeing the decisions Daenerys makes when holding court gives us a window into how she handles small issues within the city, but there is also several times when Dany has to make very important choices that could affect thousands of lives. Most of these choices have no good answer, only the lesser of two evils, and Dany has to weigh what is most important to her knowing that people are going to be hurt by her decision either way.

But while that is mostly the case, there is one issue in which it isn’t: the fighting pits. Compared to the other choices she is forced to make in this book, it seems like Daenerys should not be bothered by allowing the fighting pits to reopen, considering the loss of life is *relatively* small and only by those who choose to fight. Yet, it is the issue Daenerys takes the hardest stand against, and completely refuses to do it herself, waiting until Hizdahr is King and letting him do it instead:

A queen must listen to her people, Dany reminded herself. “After the wedding Hizdahr will be king. Let him reopen the fighting pits if he wishes. I want no part of it.” Let the blood be on his hands, not mine.

Before I get into why Dany refusing to do this was a bad choice, I want to clarify something; there actually is plenty of good reasons not to open the pits. As we see through Tyrion’s eyes, slaves are still being brought in to fight, and we see that again when Hizdahr tells Dany that the dwarves are unaware they will have to fight wild animals with wooden swords. The pits shouldn’t have been reopened until Dany had a system in place that assured those kinds of abuses couldn’t occur.

But Dany isn’t thinking of any of that when she refuses to open the pits. To her, they represent everything wrong with Meereen; watching men die as sport is grotesque to her. That’s a perfectly reasonable thing to believe, and I don’t begrudge her for holding that position, but no one else in the city agrees with her. The pit fighters themselves are coming to Dany, begging to fight again:

"Before, I fight for master. You say, fight for you. I say, fight for me." The huge man thumped his chest with a fist as big as a ham. "For gold. For glory."

And not only is the fighting pits a part of the culture, but it’s also a part of the Ghiscari religion; the fights are viewed as sacrifices to the gods. Daenerys is already viewed as an outsider in the city, and refusing to allow this part of their culture is just another thing that turns the Ghiscari against her, especially because Dany never offers a reason for why she won’t open the pits; we see her argue Hizdahr’s points for him, to mock how often he comes to her, but she never actually makes a case against him. And even in her own thoughts, we never fully understand why the fighting pits bother her so much. When she has to watch the fights, the blood and killing of it all makes her nauseous, but she wasn’t bothered by that when Strong Belwas fought for her in front of the gates, and in the very same chapter isn’t bothered by Drogon’s violence.

The fighting pits is the one thing Dany absolutely refuses to concede. Even when she agrees to marry Hizdahr, close the gates to the refugees from Astapor, and let Yunkai restart their slave trade, she won’t open the pits and never does, letting the responsibility go to Hizdahr. And when she finally decides to leave Meereen, it is after watching Barsena die fighting. It seems like a small thing for Dany to be so hung up, and even she realizes that:

Better a few should die in the pit then thousands on the gates. This is the price of peace.

But she can’t go through with it. This is one of the biggest mistakes Dany makes as queen of Meereen. And she makes it for personal reasons; even though she could offer Hizdahr and other supporters of the fighting pits valid political reasons not to open them, she never does, because she doesn’t care about them. She refuses to open the pits because it is too Meereenese for her tastes.

Another major choice Daenerys has to make is how to deal with Astapor and Yunkai, which have fallen to disaster since she left them. The two cities represent two opposite decisions Dany made in the past; she attacked and burned Astapor, but peacefully moved past Yunkai after they agreed to free their slaves. Yet both have problems that are impossible to solve, and force Dany into choices she doesn’t want to make.

Yunkai has gone back to slavery since Dany marched passed, and since she left their military intact is threatening to march on Meereen; the Yunkai’i have blocked off the bay and plan on starving the city out. But Daenerys doesn’t have enough food to support the city, and without the power of her dragons can’t compete with Yunkai’s army. The only way Dany can save Meereen from Yunkai is to allow them to resume their slave trade, which goes against everything she wanted to stand for. The whole reason Dany decided to stay in Meereen was guilt and the realization that the people she left behind were going to get hurt, and she didn’t want to leave another city behind. And having to let the Yunkai’i go back to slaving is a harsh reminder of that. But it is her only choice to keep Meereen free, and it was the right choice. If she tried to fight Yunkai, she would have lost and then all three cities of Slaver’s Bay would return to slavery. But it is a choice that takes a piece of her, and makes her feel like everything she fought for was pointless.

Looked at it in isolation, the situation with Yunkai seems to suggest that Dany’s mistake was passing the city without military force, and Dany herself would agree with that:

She was coming to regret leaving the Yellow City untaken after defeating its army in the field. The Wise Masters had returned to slaving as soon as she moved on, and were busy raising levies, hiring sellswords, and making alliances against her.

But then Daenerys has to face what has become of Astapor, which she did attack with force, and it’s even worse:

Cleon the self-styled Great was no better, however. The Butcher King had restored slavery to Astapor, the only change being that the former slaves were now the masters and the former masters were now the slaves.

At first, Dany is untroubled by the fall of Astapor, because they are no threat to her and even march against her enemies. Then the first rider appears:

"He came out of the morning mists, a rider on a pale horse, dying. His mare was staggering as she approached the city gates, her sides pink with blood and lather, her eyes rolling with terror. Her rider called out, 'She is burning, she is burning,' and fell from the saddle”

Soon, hundreds and thousands of people fleeing Astapor arrive outside the gates of Meereen, begging to be let inside the walls. Daenerys’ first instinct is to help them, and she tries her best to do so:

“I will not turn away from them,” she said stubbornly. “A queen must know the sufferings of her people.”

“Go if you wish, ser. I will not detain you. I will not detain any of you.” Dany vaulted down from the horse. “I cannot heal them, but I can show them that their mother cares.”

Dany is willing to ride out amongst those suffering from the bloody flux, because she sees herself as their mother and every part of her wants to be able to help them. She even intended on letting them in the gates. But then Daario brings news of the Yunkish armies gathering in the hills, and again Dany is forced to make an awful, but right, choice:

She wanted to scream, to gnash her teeth and tear her clothes and beat upon the floor. Instead she said, “Close the gates. Will you make me say it thrice?” They were her children, but she could not help them now.

Even though this is an awful call to have to make, it is the right one. Leaving the gates open long enough to let everyone from Astapor in would have left Meereen exposed to Yunkai’s attack, and Meereen barely has enough food to feed their own people and wouldn’t have been able to sustain thousands more. Most importantly, though, is that the people from Astapor are carrying the Bloody Flux, which is basically an even more contagious version of dysentery; men who Daenerys had sent into the Astapori camps to help feed them all caught the flux and most died from it. If she had let them into Meereen, the whole city could have been wiped out.

In the end, I think Daenerys made the right choices when it came to Astapor and Yunkai (even though the decisions she made were far from perfect or even good). But, why did she have to make those hard choices at all? Ruling a city was never going to be easy, but the unrest in both Astapor and Yunkai, though she approached them with two entirely different strategies, is making a clear point: Daenerys never should have left them. Meereen is the only city of Slaver’s Bay that is able to keep the slaves freed, and it is also the only city where Daenerys stayed. No matter how radical the change is (like Astapor), or subtle (Yunkai), someone needs to stay and make sure the change stays in place. So, while Daenerys ultimately made the right choices to keep her own city safe, she is the one who left Astapor and Yunkai in positions to fall apart.

The biggest problem Daenerys faces inside Meereen is the threat from the Sons of the Harpy, a shadow-group of murderers who target freedmen. This is also the best ruling Daenerys does as queen, rarely making a poor choice and mostly making the best one. Trying to ease the tensions between the Nobles and the Freedmen is an almost impossible task, though, because of the long history of Meereen’s slave trade; and the sacking of the city only served to make it worse. The freed slaves are entirely justified in their hatred of their former masters, but since the slaves were given immunity for crimes they committed during the sack, the masters are even more horrible to the freedmen than they would have been otherwise. Since noble women were raped, property was defaced or stolen, and people were murdered, tensions in Meereen are running higher than ever as Daenerys tries to stop the killing.

The first steps she takes against the Harpy is to mix her City Guard, which was previously all Unsullied, to equal parts freedmen and Shavepates (former nobles who have taken to Dany’s cause), so that the Sons of the Harpy would have to kill their own; and to pay for these men, she enacts a “blood tax” that charges the nobles whenever the Harpy kills someone.

Even though these are good ideas, the killings don’t stop, and Daenerys has to try something else; eventually she decides on taking young hostages from the noble families, under threat of death if the killings continue. When she is actually faced with having to kill her hostages, though, she cannot go through with it; and that was the right decision. If she had killed them, it would have only served to give the noble families another excuse to fight against her rule and would have been used as evidence of her cruelty. By sparing them and befriending them, Daenerys is actually building bonds and relationships with the next generation of noble families that can only benefit her in the future.

But Daenerys can’t wait years to see the killings stop, and needs a solution to stop the Harpy immediately. The only thing that could do that is a permanent tie between Daenerys, who represents (in the eyes of the former masters) the former slaves, and a noble family; and the best way to do that is a marriage to Hizdahr zo Loraq, who has the Green Grace’s approval and has offered to marry Daenerys. She knows that marrying Hizdahr is her only choice:

“My people are bleeding. Dying. A queen belongs not to herself, but to the realm. Marriage or carnage, those are my choices. A wedding or a war.”

She resists this decision for a long time, and then tells Hizdahr that she won’t marry him unless Meereen goes 90 days with no murders. The reason she resists the marriage are obvious; it is the ultimate act of giving up her own agency for Meereen. Once she commits to marrying Hizdahr, she is losing the chance to choose who she loves, or to make a marriage alliance in Westeros. The idea of giving up herself in this way is devastating to Dany, and she’s only willing to make the choice when she’s absolutely sure that it will work, and that she has no other choice. But she does marry Hizdahr, because she knows that as a queen, she should put her people first:

“A queen loves where she must, not where she will."

Her decision to marry Hizdahr is the one true attempt Daenerys makes to be a part of the Meereenese culture, and the way she blends Meereenese wedding traditions with her own – accepting the harmless and replacing the offensive – is a great example of how Daenerys could move forward in Meereen peacefully.

Now that I’ve explained what Dany did right fighting the Sons of the Harpy, she does make some morally wrong calls. The killings make Daenerys justifiably angry, but the way she handles that anger is letting the Shavepate torture suspects and their kids:

Mercy, thought Dany. They will have the dragon’s mercy. “Skahaz, I have changed my mind. Question the man sharply.”

“I could. Or I could question the daughters sharply whilst the father looks on. That will wring some names from him.”

“Do as you think best, but bring me names.” Her fury was a fire in her belly.

It is one thing to torture someone you only suspect of being involved in a crime, but it is even worse to torture girls just to get at their father. And while this is the only instance we hear of Daenerys allowing the torture of people she knows are innocent to try and get confessions, it’s made clear that the Shavepate is torturing a lot of people:

“I do not doubt that Skahaz would soon have me confessing. A day with him, and I will be one of the Harpy’s Sons. Two days, and I will be the Harpy. Three, and it will turn out I slew your father too, back in the Sunset Kingdoms when I was yet a boy. Then he will impale me on a stake and you can watch me die. . . but afterward the killings will go on.”

“I do not trust these confessions. You’ve brought me too many of them, all of them worthless.”

The first quote is from Hizdahr, showing that the Shavepate has a reputation amongst the noble families of being especially brutal. Dany allowing that kind of behavior gives the nobles real reasons to hide behind when they don’t support her. And the second quote is from Dany herself, showing that Hizdahr’s perspective wasn’t biased, and the Shavepate truly is getting false confessions from people; which more than suggests his methods are particularly brutal.

Furthering the divide between the Nobles and Freedman, Daenerys forces the Nobles into labor, digging fields to plant trees. Xaro Xhoan Daxos notices this when he enters the city, and uses it against Dany when she refuses to let the other cities have slaves, since the men forced to work for Dany are asking to be made slaves again.

Besides marrying Hizdahr, the biggest choice Dany has to make for the good of Meereen is chaining her dragons. Locking them away is a huge sacrifice for Daenerys, since she sees them as her children, and it leaves her at a political disadvantage when negotiating with Yunkai and Qarth (since the dragons are her only real advantage). Without them, Dany is worried she won’t even be able to hold Meereen:

Without dragons, how could she hope to hold Meereen, much less win back Westeros?

And she knows that she could destroy her enemies with them:

She was the blood of the dragon. She could kill the Sons of the Harpy, and the sons of the sons, and the sons of the sons of the sons.

But Dany also knows that however useful dragons are for killing enemies, they can’t bring peace to the city:

But a dragon could not feed a hungry child nor help a dying woman’s pain.

On the surface, Daenerys chaining her dragons seems like a very good thing she did; but again, just like with the disasters of Astapor and Yunkai, Daenerys helps create a problem, waits until it hits a fever pitch, and then makes the right choice at the end. All the way back in A Storm of Swords, Daenerys was already having fears about her dragons:

"Did any of them try to burn their way free?" That was the thing that frightened Dany the most.

Also in that book, Drogon gets upset and bites Irri hard enough to make her bleed. So, even before A Dance with Dragons starts, there is plenty of warning signs about what her dragons are capable of. And once the book starts, and some time has passed for the dragons to grow even larger, it’s clear the dragons have only become more unruly:

Her dragons were growing wild of late. Rhaegal had snapped at Irri, and Viserion had set Reznak’s tokar ablaze the last time the seneschal had called. I have left them too much to themselves, but where am I to find the time for them?

And Drogon has been out hunting, killing many people’s livestock:

In my meta about Daenerys’ personal arc, I’ll discuss more of how she could let the dragons get so far out of hand before intervening, but right now I just want to draw attention to how bad a decision that was politically. Even before Hazzea is killed, Drogon burning the sheep is starting to become a problem between Daenerys and her people; as she noticed when she agreed to pay the people off, it doesn’t make them happy. And it’s especially bad that Daenerys is starting to lose their support, because they are all she has; since the nobles don’t support her, Daenerys depends on the freedmen and lower classes to keep her crown.

But the biggest issue with Daenerys allowing Drogon to roam the hillsides, is how obvious it was that an incident like Hazzea was inevitably going to happen. Once Hazzea is killed, Daenerys’ rule depends on the silence of a grieving father; because, if her murder ever got out, the city of Meereen would abandon Daenerys. It also puts her in a position where she has to take advantage of one of her people:

Dany chose to pay the blood price. No one could tell her the worth of a daughter, so she set it at one hundred times the worth of a lamb. “I would give Hazzea back to you if I could,” she told the father, “but some things are beyond the power of even a queen. Her bones shall be laid to rest in the Temple of the Graces, and a hundred candles shall burn day and night in her memory. Come back to me each year upon her nameday, and your other children shall not want . . . but this tale must never pass your lips again.”

“Men will ask,” the grieving father had said. “They will ask me where Hazzea is and how she died.”

“She died of a snakebite,” Reznak mo Reznak insisted. “A ravening wolf carried her off. A sudden sickness took her. Tell them what you will, but never speak of dragons.”

Daenerys rule rests on the good will and/or fear of a grieving father. All because she put her dragons before her people.

Tokars

The choices Daenerys has to make with Astapor and Yunkai, where she has to leave people to be enslaved or die because she can’t save everyone, start to break Dany’s will and it gets harder and harder for her to keep giving parts of herself to Meereen. But those are not the reasons that Daenerys decides to abandon the city at the end of A Dance with Dragons; I touched upon it earlier, but the real reason her rule in Meereen is unsustainable is that Daenerys doesn’t want to be a queen. She holds onto the idealized version she had, of being a mother to her people and feeling as if she belongs; but the actual day to day responsibilities of being a Queen, of representing even the people she doesn’t like, and making hard choices, is not for her. She is still a young girl, and often times foolish in the way she carries herself.

I want to preface this next section by saying this: if it seems like I’m being hard on Dany, that’s because I am. She, more than any other character in A Song of Ice and Fire, should be held to a higher standard; because she wields more power than anyone else. Cersei as Queen Mother and Jon as Lord Commander come the closest, but Cersei’s power is tied to Tommen and easily taken by Margaery, and Jon’s power is limited to the very small number of men in the Night’s Watch. Daenerys controls an entire city, and has three dragons to do whatever she wants with. And Dany intentionally sought her power out, completely out of self-interest; while her time in Slaver’s Bay evolves into a humanitarian effort, it began as her trying to gather an army to take back her family’s throne – not to better the lives of the smallfolk, but because she feels Westeros belongs to her. She went looking for power, and managed to get it; enough so that people live and die based on her choices. Because more lives are at stake, Daenerys should be held to a higher standard. Keep that in mind while reading. . .

From the first chapter, Daenerys’ immaturity is on display:

If he proposes again that I wed King Cleon, I’ll throw a slipper at his head.

She finds holding court very boring, and it’s hard for her to keep her “floppy ears” on:

The slippers the Butcher King had sent her had grown too uncomfortable. Dany kicked them off and sat with one foot tucked beneath her and the other swinging back and forth. It was not a very regal pose, but she was tired of being regal. The crown had given her a headache, and her buttocks had gone to sleep.

But while holding court, she manages to keep her discontent mostly to herself. Meeting with Xaro Xhoan Daxos, she is less diplomatic:

She took a cherry from the bowl on the table and threw it at his nose

His jeweled nose made a tempting target. This time Dany threw an apricot at him.

I cannot stress enough how immature this is; the Queen of Meereen throwing fruit at one of the Thirteen of Qarth. However annoying she finds Xaro, a queen should carry herself with more self-control.

The tokar, a traditional Meereenese garb worn by the nobility, is the way GRRM symbolizes Daenerys’ lack of patience with Meereen and queenship. This is how she describes the tokar:

The garment was a clumsy thing, a long loose shapeless sheet that had to be wound around her hips and under an arm and over a shoulder, its dangling fringes carefully layered and displayed. Wound too loose, it was like to fall off; wound too tight, it would tangle, trip, and bind. Even wound properly, the tokar required its wearer to hold it in place with the left hand. Walking in a tokar demanded small, mincing steps and exquisite balance, lest one tread upon those heavy trailing fringes. It was not a garment meant for any man who had to work. The tokar was a master's garment, a sign of wealth and power.

Daenerys is right that it is a garment for the wealthy, because the design of the tokar makes it impossible for practical use, so her hatred isn’t entirely unjustified. But the tokar also represents the tightwire Dany has to walk as queen; one step out of line, and the tokar could fall off, and she would lose her floppy ears. And that’s why she hates it: all of her attention goes to keeping it on, and it limits her freedom. The tokar is everything she hates about Meereen. Knowing the tokar represents Dany’s complicated relationship with Meereen, it’s fascinating to see the details GRRM has woven into her chapters:

With Jhiqui's help, she wound the tokar about herself correctly on her third attempt.

Meereen being the third city she conquered in Slaver’s Bay, the symbolism is pretty clear. The idea that she gets her third attempt correct also reinforces a point I’ve been trying to make through this post; for all of her missteps, Daenerys actually manages to achieve peace in Meereen. But in the end, she throws it away (but I’ll get into that more later).

When Hazzea’s father lingers in her court after she has dismissed everyone, it angers Dany:

As Dany stood, her tokar began to slip. She caught it and tugged it back in place. "You with the sack," she called, "did you wish to speak with us? You may approach."

The tokar is the physical manifestation of Dany’s “floppy ears”, and when she lets her queenly façade slip, so does her garment. But it’s very important that while the tokar sometimes slips, Dany never lets it fall. Like the mistakes she makes as queen, she can fix her dress before it all comes crashing down. She can, and did, make the peace in Meereen work, even if she came dangerously close to failing; Daenerys learned to walk the tightwire of Meereen. The only way the tokar will fall is if she chooses to take it off.

And that’s exactly what she does. After marrying Hizdahr, she agrees to attend the fighting pits with him, and that’s when she hits her breaking point. Through all the sacrifices she has to make, keeping the fighting pits closed is the one thing she never had to give in to. So, when she is faced with seeing her last stand fall to the Meereenese, she is looking for reasons to walk. Then Barsena begins her fight:

The boar buried his snout in Barsena’s belly and began rooting out her entrails. The smell was more than the queen could stand. The heat, the flies, the shouts from the crowd. . . I cannot breathe.

I think people focus too much on Drogon’s shocking return in the fighting pits, and forget what Dany was doing before he arrived. Practically speaking, Drogon returns because he smells meat and blood and wants to kill; but symbolically speaking, Drogon returns at the moment Daenerys stopped pretending in Meereen. And previously when Daenerys was faced with the choice of saving her dragons or saving her people, she was willing to chain the dragons. But this time, Daenerys is willing to let people die to save Drogon:

Drogon raised his head, blood dripping from his teeth. The hero leapt onto his back and drove the iron spearpoint down at the base of the dragon’s long scaled neck.

Dany and Drogon screamed as one.

Ser Barristan held her tightly. “Look away, Your Grace.”

“Let me go!” Dany twisted from his grasp. The world seemed to slow as she cleared the parapet.

In total, Drogon killed 214 people and wounded three times as many before he finally leaves with Dany. Politically speaking, this is a disaster for Daenerys. The Yunkish envoys were caught in the fire and killed, as well as many highborn nobles and even freedmen. Where Daenerys was able to cover up Hazzea’s death, there is no hiding what Drogon has done in Daznak’s Pit. And that’s why in her absence, Meereen completely collapses and war begins.

But Daenerys was never going to go back to the city as their queen. When she is in the Dothraki Sea, she tries to convince herself to go back, even walking toward the city, but even before Drogon arrived in the Pit, Daenerys gave up on the peace she had worked so hard to make. The tokar is her “floppy ears”, the thing that allows her to be a queen of the rabbits; to take it off, Daenerys is saying she has no interest in doing that anymore.

Like I said at the beginning, Daenerys’ A Dance with Dragons arc splits into two halves – the personal and the political. If Daenerys X is the personal reckoning she has with herself to embrace Fire & Blood, Daenerys IX (the chapter in Daznak’s Pit) is the political falling out she has with Meereen. The only reason she can have her moment on the Dothraki Sea is because she has already given up on the one thing holding her back from her family’s legacy. It is only fitting that the last thing she does before Drogon appears, is take off the only thing tying her to Meereen:

She lifted her veil and let it flutter away. She took her tokar off as well. The pearls rattled softly against one another as she unwound the silk.

“Khaleesi?” Irri asked. “What are you doing?”

“Taking off my floppy ears.”

#daenerys targaryen #anti daenerys #game of thrones #A Song of Ice and Fire #a dance with dragons

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morsking · 6 years ago

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Got around to starting and finishing Old World Blues in the past couple of days. I think it’s the strongest of the game’s DLC I’ve played so far.

At first, it feels like you’re in for some wacky science fiction b-movie shenanigans once you’re introduced to the Think Tank. They’re all whimsical idiots who forget what words are, repeat themselves to elongate their sentences to look smart, and even one of them is bizarrely horny and has a fetish for... innocuous human behavior? Stretching? Yawning? They are neurotic brains in machines who take stuff apart and break it without really creating anything with it, just replicating the same results over and over and none of them seem to notice how stupid they are and it’s amazing. They took your brain, spine, and heart out of your body in an attempt to turn you into a walking vegetable, only for them to become so fascinated with the damage you took from Benny’s bullet that they fuck up the surgery and end up finding a way to keep your intelligence about you with a remote device that connects your brain to the tesla coils in your skull. Their biggest scientific discovery since... who knows how fucking long, was an absolute accident. It could only come about by chance, because you, as an existence alien to the static Big MT, shook things up tremendously.

But as funny and baffling as all these things could be, the more you explore Big MT, the more apparent it is that for all their quirks the Think Tank are also responsible for some of the most heinous crimes against humanity you can witness in Fallout: New Vegas. They experimented with carnivorous, parasitic plants on human beings, spliced humans, dogs, and robots together, developed nightstalkers and cazadores you see in the base game, used the Sierra Madre casino and its inhabitants as a petri dish for holograms, the claustrophobic hazmat suits, and the poisonous Cloud that killed everyone and turned them into zombies. Their experiments killed all their staff, and not one of them batted an eye to what they did. And their most shocking crime is the repetition of Japanese internment with Chinese hostages, who you can find ghoulified from radiation and are forced to kill them. These prisoners can’t be reasoned with or saved because the Think Tank stripped them from their humanity long ago along with any humanity or rationality that was left in the Big Empty. The only thing they can do as being robbed of their humanity is lash out at anything that still looks human. All throughout the DLC, you are subjected to displays of the Think Tank’s obsessions and cruelties and aimless ambitions, and you wonder why. How did things get this twisted and distortioned? And then you meet Dr. Mobius, and you find out why.

In his introductory segment when you start the DLC, he seems like the parody of the crazed mad scientist terrorizing the slightly less crazy eccentric scientists and the bastard who kidnapped your brain. But when you meet him, he’s like a sweet, confused, senile old man. He’s got an endearing if a little weird addiction to radioactive snacks despite him being a brain in a machine who has no mouth to eat them. He forgets he keeps a giant killer robot scorpion with a OHKO death laser of infinite... death powered on and sucking up energy all the time and that’s why his shit never works. He uses the wrong words on his sentences because they sound like the actual words he means to use. He didn’t just steal your brain, he kept it safe for you. And also, he’s the one who lobotomized the Think Tank into the witless abominations they are now.

Dr. Mobius witnessed his co-workers, his friends, pushing the boundaries of science further and further into dark places. Terrified for what they might do, he robbed them of their sanity and created an army not to terrorize them, but to keep them busy and from getting out. Dr. Mobius feared for the world, that it might be subjected to one new horror after another. There is great compassion in his actions but also great cruelty. He was so afraid of his friends the new world he trapped them in the old one. That’s where obsession and abhorrence belong, in the big emptiness of the past. It’s so appropriate, that Big MT is misread as “the Big Empty”. Because obsession and madness are an abyss, and also because everything that happened there was meaningless and hollow. There was no purpose to the Think Tank repeating its process of lobotomizing and observing the lobotomites. The great irony is that. That they don’t realize that what they do to human beings is what’s been done to them. Like the nature of all their names, their actions and their philosophies are cyclical and self-consuming. (Ouro)Borous. Zero. (Man)Dala (circle in Sanskrit), 8, Klein and Mobius. They are concepts that loop into themselves, symbolic of the futility of holding on to the grudges and ambitions of the Old World, a world that new only conflict and supremacy and paranoia and hostility. The fact that Mobius had to resort to brainwashing his own colleagues itself is evident even he didn’t know how to let go of the brutal utilitarian methods of the Old World in an effort to save the New One.

And what’s even worse is that didn’t matter anyway, because the mutated abominations that Borous created still found their way into the Mojave anyway. Are we supposed to accept that as a mercy that night stalkers, spores, and cazadores are the only things that slipped through the crater into the desert and be thankful for it? The only thing you can do about it now is say “Enough.” Enough of the Old World and its curses. It has no right to turn this world into a graveyard with it. It has no write to take from it and toy with it. Many times that attachment is played for laughs in Old World Blues, particularly Borous’s anti-communist fixation and enactments of his high school trauma being the basis for a training operation. But when you truly look at it it really feels like gallows humor. How many people do you reckon died in those tests at Lab X-8 because he used the test subjects as a means of catharsis? What was the human cost of that myopic insecurity and resentment? You only have to look around you. The facility is littered with guts. And it’s not the only one that looks like that. Not by a longshot.

So it came my time to also say enough to the Think Tank. I chose to kill them (more like stumbled my way into killing them because you have to thematically cycle through speech and skill checks for Mobius to give you the option of sparing everyone). It was both a roleplay gesture of revenge as much as it was a choice from me as a player to put the Big Empty out of its misery. It was already a graveyard in concept, it had to be made a graveyard in reality.

So that’s it for my review of the story. As for the more physical aspects of the DLC, I’ll say the Big Empty is probably the most interestingly designed setting I’ve ever seen. From the moment I woke up at the top of the Sink’s balcony I fell in love with what I was seeing. The layout includes some interesting platforming and traversal of the terrain from labs to cliffs to caves. Every laboratory houses something useful for you or relevant to the story and it’s easy to circle around the entire map and unlock everything as you go. The exploration comes naturally and you’re always encouraged to go back and look to see if you missed something (which you probably did, because it sure happened to me). One of the best things I found was the stealth suit. I’ve written about it already, but it is simply adorable, quirky, and also very helpful. Getting all its upgrades is worth it and not all that difficult even if it looks like a case of trial and error. There are some neat unlockables in terms of weapons as well like the stuff Elijah and Christine left behind, and lore that elaborates on their time there and Christine’s chase of Elijah to make him pay for his crimes. There is also the excellent set-up of your encounter with Ulysses in Lonesome Road, since he’s left his mark everywhere for you to see, as if luring you and taunting you. The dialogue is some of the wittiest and funniest Fallout’s ever been. The personalities in the Sink’s assistant appliances are so varied and interesting. You have the weirdly horny and seductive seed processor, the germaphobic water sink, the pessimistic and exhausted Muggy mini securitron, the jealous bickering light switches, the radio man juke box, the brave little toaster that could (murder everything), the ultra-patriotic and self-unaware book chute, the compassionate level-headed Auto-Doc, and finally the neutral, loyal, and polite Central Intelligence Monitor. Old World Blues had such an interesting and loveable cast. There is not a single human character in the entirety of the DLC, yet all of those feel vivid and alive.

Those are my two cents on Old World Blues. A beautifully written, poignant, and entertaining piece of gaming. Now, we move on to Lonesome Road.

#homecooked meta #fallout #new vegas #fnv #old world blues #fallout nv

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yfere · 6 years ago

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Shipping Calculus! Live Updates from C2E67

A Battle heavy episode, but not one without its Shipping Moments! Thank you to @alarnia, @softazelma, and @drinkingdeadpeopletea for helping with data entry. Masterpost here.

+23 to Caleb/Jester/The Silver Thread of Fate They get equal credit as Caleb did this with Jester’s suggestions and guidance, even choosing the ankle—then the pinky to tie everyone together with! They knew what they were doing. This is polynein at work, my friends.

+15 to Caleb/Channeling His Inner Druid as he polymorphs into a spider, and a giant eagle, and in general has seemed to decide that he much prefers being an animal to a human wizard being.

+16 to Caleb/Caduceus …An inclination which happens to be very compatible with a Caduceus romance, as dear Cads is the only one Not Quite A Druid!Caleb can understand when he’s being his dumbo polymorphed self. These two did pretty well on the Battle Points—despite a few missed opportunities Caduceus did Bless the Spider, and Caduceus is very, very appreciative of Caleb’s searching the Spider Lair. Caduceus in general trying to stick by Caleb, though point loss for Caleb rebuffing him by insisting that the blind folks Should Not Be Beside Each Other. Both of them sharing an attitude of respect for the dead…

+6 to Jester/Caduceus…and Jester makes an effort to respect the dead as well, when asking for Caduceus’ advice on the optics of stealing an angel skull to interrogate. Some Battle Points with Jester also smashing up attacking spiders and so on, Caduceus confusedly letting Eagle!Jester carry him to safety and staying by the door until she herself was safe.

+8 to Caleb/Jester which would be more, what with Caleb tossing all Keys and Goods in her direction, them both turning into Eagles together, Caleb hanging on every suggestion of Jester’s and staying behind even while on death’s door himself to make sure she made it back safely and Fireball her foes…however, there is no better way to drain all the points out of a ship then to reject hand holding when it’s offered to you. Shame on you, Jester!

-1 to The Mighty Nein/No Jester Left Behind Act as Eagle!Jester rescues literally everyone—Nott, Caduceus, Yasha—to be, once again, the last to get to safety, the closest to being left behind. Points gained for Caduceus and Caleb hanging out by the door for her

+5 to Nott/Never Letting Shit Go as she pokes at Caleb by asking if they’re going to do the thing where they take scrolls without telling anyone else. The day Nott fails to bring up old drama is the day she has been murdered and replaced with a doppelganger.

+0 to Fjord/Jester/Caleb as Fjord says he “always loves doing two at a time” (!!!!!!) and working together with Caleb to craft the perfect message for Oban. Unfortunately, point loss as Fjord is also Horrified And Not At All Pleased with Jester and Caleb’s Eagle! antics, since all animals Especially Those Resembling Rocs in Fjord’s book are to Be Hated And Feared. As such this episode births the first Anti Ship Mascot.

+13 to Nott/Yasha Surprisingly, these two actually have an excellent week. Despite Nott continuing to interrogate Yasha over her flask, Yasha is sweetly protective of Nott and draws her sword to the sound of Nott’s distress. She is the most effusive in complimenting Nott’s Murdering Skill, and adorably offers her own title of the Orphanmaker up for Nott to use—and then they talk about making a band of it! Iconic.

+6 to Beau/Yasha/Jester as they all blow and use their cloaks to beat back the fog while looking for traps, though they didn’t exactly succeed in their stated purpose

-25 to the Mighty Nein/Traps Of course, at this point it’s more surprising for them to not set off a trap than the other way around, but between Nott getting characteristically caught in webbing, Fjord setting off an electronic trap that nearly killed everyone, and Beau and Nott both making noise to disturb an awful psychic nightmare of a cliffside trap, twas a particularly awful week for this group.

+11 to Fjord/Jester as they have a great, if understated week, with Jester doing relatively well on the Battle Points those times when she prioritizes smashing up/fooling spiders and zombies attacking Fjord, and Fjord thinking her zombie murdering skills are amazing. Fjord is also very sweet about not wanting Jester to feel like she’s wasting her spells knowing that she always worries about just that, Jester worries (justifiably) over Fjord pressing forward alone, and with Fjord attempting to join Jester and co’s band with his sightreading skills. Point loss for apparently not actually being able to sightread, Fjord your powerful pokerface is why no one trusts you, you know that right? Also point loss for Jester once more taking joy in Fjord’s squeamishness over spider egg sacs.

-20 to Caleb/Penetration as he Shields that suggestively-placed stinging protrusion from the demon-spider! Take him out to dinner first, you animal (somewhere he isn’t on the menu)! Admittedly Caleb turning into a charming spider in response may have sent a couple of mixed messages, but the Queen Spider was murdered before anyone had the chance to find out whether it would have gone anywhere

+10 to Beau/Jester as through pure Sapphic Intuition they identify a hole in the ground before anyone else. Them goofing off and spelling their names in the fog, Beau missing Jester’s unicorns, and them discussing body farms, that most romantic of detectively topics.

+7 to Jester/Nott and -10 to Jester/Anatomy as Jester is now imitating Nott’s thunking breasts pantomime when talking about “big racks.” Jester discussing Buttons, rescuing Nott in eagle form, and alongside Yasha being Incredibly Though Ineffectively Supportive of Sober!Nott, similar Battle Couple Shenanigans of Jester popping zombies like balloons while Nott uses her mage hand to scoop up the hearts for the Creepy Puzzle Door.

+18 to Beau/Yasha as it is Shipping Law that tearing out monster hearts together is Peak Date Material, not to mention them coordinating killing/heart-snatching moves with Peak Battle Couple Efficiency, and Yasha being Very Impressed with Beau’s ability to quickly finish the lightning trap with the power of her fists. Those are some talented hands Beau has there

+3 to Beau/Unnecessary Apologies as she apparently thinks she needs to say “sorry” for not having stolen Nott’s flask. Sorry. She didn’t. Steal Nott’s flask. And then gifts her the last drops of her family’s wine. Beau!

-4 the Mighty Nein/Spoilers This week Oban is looking out for them and preserving their sense of surprise, with only a vague “be careful” as a warning of what is to come

+2 to Fjord/Caduceus as Caduceus defends Fjord’s caution to the rest of the group, and them intently seeking Bindings of One Kind Or Another together. Sadly, their potential to gain more points was cut off by Fjord deciding not to take first watch with Caduceus after all.

-2 to Nott/One-liners as she feels the need to downgrade the coolness factor of her terrifying one-shot finishing blows by stumbling over jokes with no punchline, demonstrating maybe one thing suffering with her newfound sobriety +2 to the Mighty Nein/Totally Not Anachronisms for Nott inventing the internet, though.

+16 to Jester/Yasha as these two continue to be embarrassingly adorable at all times, with Yasha complimenting the blue feathers of Jester’s Eagle form while being rescued, and alongside Nott discussing the Orphanmakers band together. Jester defending Yasha first in battle with the spiders, and Yasha adorably thanking her for the lollipop assistance afterwards.

+8 to Caleb/Fjord as the Full Spectrum of Fireball Shipping Power was used, ranging from using it to save Fjord and the rest from Baby Spider Hell and earning a “that’s hot” from Fjord which, can be interpreted in many interesting ways, to Caleb’s fireball destroying a bunch of zombies but nonetheless ruining the moment and losing points for getting Fjord slapped around by torn-up limbs. Fjord pulling a Classic Fjord Ship Maneuver in yelling at people not letting Caleb do His Thing. Caleb, for his part, pulling a Classic Romance Novel Maneuver by crashing into Fjord on the stairs and saying hello in a supremely awkward manner. Sadly not many classic Battle Points, with *sighs* pragmatism in target choice getting in the way.

+1 to Fjord/Spiders We all know Fjord has a tendency to fuck things he’s frightened of, but unfortunately this week he was not willing to take a full action to do so in battle. Too many eyes on him, apparently.

-500000 to Sam Riegel/His Presidential Campaign At this point, Sam’s official flag should be his white burial shroud tied to a stick and waved around in surrender #VoteWithYourJohnson #LiamForPresident

#critical role #cr spoilers #shipping calculus

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buffyversefanfiction · 5 years ago

Text

Twisted Tristan

Chapter 4 - B Normal Again

Warnings: I do not own or claim to own the original content to “Buffy the Vampire Slayer”, “Angel”, the comics or any of the original characters from the “Buffyverse” all rights belong to Joss Whedon.

15 plus, displays of Violence, Gore, Torture, M/M, F/M, F/F.

Buffy, Faith and Willow remained within the underground sewer tunnels completely broken by their loss by Buffy’s loss as Buffy stood there as a heartbroken mother with no idea where her son could be.

“There’s got to be some way to find him Willow some spell that you can do.” Buffy cried. “He’s my son Willow, my baby boy.”

“I really wish there was some way of fixing this Buffy but when I opened that portal, I backed it up with another spell so if we came back and were captured by one of them whoever escaped would be safe.” Willow explained to her as she shed tears of her own for her missing nephew.

“Find some way of reversing the spell Will find some way of opening the portal Willow I can’t lose my son.” Buffy sobbed as Faith remained silent clearly sympathizing for her friends. “He’s just a baby and he’s all alone.”

“I’m so sorry Buffy I really am that spell was supposed to keep everyone safe.” Willow apologised while trying to dry her tears.

“Safe,” Buffy shouted, losing her temper with Willow. “How can my little boy be safe when we have no idea where the hell you dumped in? What if he’s in some demonic dimension? What if he’s already dead?”

“B Willow would never put the kid somewhere that wasn’t safe,” Faith told her fellow slayer in defense of the redheaded witch. “Wherever your boy is now I’m sure he’s safe from the ones who tried to steal him.”

“Faith I’m his mother I should be with him he’s abandoned in some strange place probably crying for me and thinking I’ve just abandoned him.” Buffy replied, heartbroken by the reality of her situation. “He’s never going to grow up knowing that I loved him more than anything that I’d fight for him until my last breath. He’s going to grow up alone thinking he was unloved.”

“I know B,” Faith said as she walked over to the blonde-haired slayer and placed her hand on her shoulder. “But wherever your son is he gets to grow up and live a life it sucks he isn’t with you for now but at least he’s safe from this madness.”

“I’ll look through every spell book search the worlds,” Willow promised Buffy. “One way or another I will find your son and get him back to his mother.”

“No, we can’t go looking for him,” Buffy replied while drying her tears. “Wherever he is I know you put him somewhere safe which means he’s safe from them and if we start looking for him it gives Wolfram and Hart a chance to get their hands on him.”

“I don’t understand Buffy what you want me to do?” Asked a confused Willow.

“For Tristan’s own safety we tell everyone that he died, and we mourn him and try our best to move on from losing him.” Buffy revealed as her voice began to break. “If they think he’s dead they will stop looking for him and he’ll finally be safe from all this chaos.”

“Are you asking us to lie about Tristan?” Willow quizzed her before admitting. “I don’t think I could do that to Xander to Giles to your sister to everyone.”

“Buffy, Angel already lost his chance to raise Connor because of another god dam portal that sent baby Connor straight to hell only to return as a murderous teenager.” Faith said making her disapproval clear. “Angel may not be able to come back from losing another son.”

“We tell no one!” Buffy demanded with a furious tone in her voice. “As far as everyone will now this was the day my son Tristan Summers died.”

Willow walked into the prison style interrogation room at Giles’ slayer rehabilitation center to find Tristan handcuffed in chains to the table looking far from amused to be in this situation.

“I don’t like seeing anyone shackled in chains and handcuffs so for that I am truly sorry,” Willow apologised as she sat down at the table. “But when you have murderous tendencies precautions tend to need to be put in place to stop us all winding up dead.”

“This place is like some of prison and yet these chains aren’t as weak as the ones they used on me in prison.” Tristan replied before going on to ask. “Where the bloody hell am I?”

“My friend Giles prefers to call this place a slayer rehabilitation center prison’s kind of a touchy subject around here.” Willow admitted to him.

“So, basically I’m locked up with a bunch of deranged slayers.” Tristan scoffed. “Figures you lot would come up with a prison for your own kind.”

“Tristan, that’s an interesting choice of name.” Willow responded to him. “Who named you Tristan? Do you have any family?”

“No offense red but I’m not going to sit here and give you the dirt on the ins and outs of my life.” Tristan snapped at the witch. “I suggest you let me go before I have to go to the trouble of breaking myself out which I promise will be a pretty bloody prison break.”

“Tristan you have murdered several innocent defenseless humans not to mention your rather large murder count on slayers.” Willow snapped back at the raven-haired murderer making it clear she wasn’t scared of him. “We are going to keep you here at all costs until we believe that you will no longer be a threat to anyone which is a pretty good deal considering a prison would sentence you to life.”

“I find it hilarious how Willow Rosenberg is talking about me being the threat when your death count is rather intriguing yourself.” Tristan laughed cruelly. “I heard you once skinned a man alive before literally trying to end the world.”

“That was me during my darkest period but I’m not that person anymore.” Willow admitted. “We have helped many people escape their own darkness and taught them how to use their special skills for good instead of evil. I know you just lost the person you love, and I know how hard that is, but we can help you through it through all of it if you let us.”

“What is this some kind of widows club meeting?” Tristan asked clearly not impressed with Willow mentioning his recently deceased vampire lover. “I say you take these chains of me and I test how truly powerful you really are.”

“I know how delicious the darkness can be and I know how hard it can be to pull yourself out of it once it’s taken a hold of you but trust me evil maybe alluring but it costs you far too much.” Willow replied to try and get through to the troubled man. “But when you fight it when you come back from it and get to some form of normal again it helps heal those wounds.”

Willow walked out of the interrogation room and into a hallway within the rehabilitation center to find Faith anxiously waiting for her knowing she was hoping for her to say there was some hope for Tristan’s redemption as Willow feared there was no redeemed this long black haired psychopath.

“If this was a horror movie, he’d be the Chucky to your Tiffany,” Willow said to the redeemed slayer as she walked towards her. “Oh, great now that analogy is going to be giving me nightmares tonight.”

“Okay so what’s the next move then?” Faith asked her eager to know her thoughts about the man she found herself strangely caring for.

“To be honest Faith I think that guy is more in need of a psychologist instead of a witch but you were definitely more scary back in your vicious villain days so if you could turn your life around maybe there’s some hope.” Willow replied hoping to reassure Faith.

“Do you find there’s something off with him?” Faith asked the witch. “For some reason I want him to want redemption more than I wanted my own redemption.”

“Are you sure this obsession for him isn’t because of his name?” Willow asked her.

“It’s not because of some name a thousand other guys have there’s something different about this guy he’s as strong as a slayer yet not a slayer and he’s human it makes no sense.” Faith tried to explain her fascination with the raven-haired man. “Stay here for a bit longer and do your digging thing I need you to find out as much about him as possible.”

“I can’t deny my interest in finding out what this guy is but I should really be getting back to Buffy I don’t like leaving her alone for long especially since Dawn and Xander jetted off with baby Joyce to some weird hippy dimension.” Willow admitted to Faith.

“Come on red Buffy’s been a recluse for three years now and I totally get why but she’s still a bad-ass bitch who is more than capable than looking after herself for a while.” Faith reassured the witch.

“You’re right,” Willow admitted before taking a deep sigh. “I’ll look into this guy, but I make no promises I’ll actually be able to find out anything new.”

For a rehabilitation center specialized in helping slayers reform themselves and seek out to amend their dark path Giles’ slayer rehabilitation definitely looked a lot like prison especially for Tristan who had found himself locked up in a pretty bare prison cell sitting on the floor while bouncing a small bouncy ball against the wall.

“If your hoping to make some great escape by cracking the walls with a bouncy ball you’ll be spending a real long time.” Faith revealed to him as she walked into the room and stood outside of his cell. “You see the guy who runs this place was the watcher to Buffy and me very briefly, so he practically knows all the tricks in the books on how to lock up us super powered folk.

“Us super powered folk live outside of the laws that the normal people push upon the weak or at least we did.” Tristan replied as he stood up and walked over to the prison gates. “Leave it to a bloody watch to try and force laws upon the supernatural.”

“Yeah I’m not exactly a big fan on this whole project but it’s better than letting you go around killing people.” Faith admitted to him.

“I wonder where they keep the less pretty monsters for rehabilitation?” Tristan asked in a sarcastic tone. “Just fucking with you I know whatever you guys don’t consider human just gets dusted or killed without any chance to reform but hey we can’t complain that we’re privileged by looking like humans.”

“Keep an extra eye on this guy.” Faith said to the female slayer guarding Tristan’s cell after walking away from the long black-haired man.

“I’m sorry Faith but we don’t have enough resources to keep any more eyes on him he’s not our only prisoner.” She replied before going on to say. “Client.”

“I’m not asking for a god dam favour I’m making a demand.” Faith shouted at the guard causing Tristan to laugh to himself. “Get one of your prison guard wannabe slayerettes to help keep an eye on this guy before I show you why people don’t tend to piss me off.”

Faith walked back into the hallways of the so-called slayer rehabilitation center to find that this time Willow was the one anxiously waiting for her which could only mean one thing the clever little witch had already found out something about Giles’ latest prisoner.

“This prison rehab or whatever the hell Giles wants to call this place isn’t right for Tristan don’t ask me why I just know it’s not.” Faith said to Willow as she walked over to her.

“I agree,” Willow admitted while looking like she had just seen a ghost. “I agree so much more than you could believe.”

“You found out something juicy, didn’t you?” Faith asked excited to get some new information on Tristan. “What did you find out?”

“Give me a moment,” Willow snapped before Faith noticed the room spinning leaving her feeling dizzy before they disappear out of sight only for the two of them to reappear in the middle of somewhere nearby woods located a few miles away from the slayer rehabilitation center. “This play is far more discreet.”

“Next time let’s try walking here,” Faith said to her as she tried to calm her dizziness caused by Willows’ magic. “Why is this so top secret anyway?”

“Trust me Faith when I say the minute, I found out this info on Giles’ latest prisoner I needed out to get the hell out of sight because nobody can overhear what I’m about to tell you.” Willow revealed to her. “I ran his DNA into the criminal database which I swear gets easier to hack into every year and I found multiple records he racked up along with a bunch of fake names before finding out his surname was Black on his birth certificate only for him to change it himself when he was eighteen but that wasn’t even the strangest thing I found it. I then hacked into several hospital records putting everything online these days really isn’t a smart move and well anyways I found out that his original birth certificate was faked and there was no actual proof of Tristan Black-Summers’ birth.”

“Okay consider me well and truly lost Wills.” Faith admitted to her confusion while trying to work out what Willow was leading towards.

“I then went through all hospital records across the whole of America and found only three living candidates that were blood relatives to Tristan.” Willow continued to reveal.

“You did all that with such a short time Jesus no wonder no-one could beat Buffy back in the day with you by her side.” Faith replied shocked and proud of Willow’s research methods.

“Those three blood relatives were Buffy, Dawn and their father.” Willow divulged completely stunning Faith in the process.

“So, if I’m right little miss goody two shoes has a psycho in the family who literally stole the name of Buffy’s son.” Faith said while trying to make sense of Willow’s findings. “Is he a cousin, a long-lost brother…”

“Come on Faith you’re smarter than that I’m sure you can put the pieces together.” Willow replied while slightly mocking her friend.

“Oh, my freaking god,” Faith answered her as she finally realized. “The portal you put Buffy’s son three years ago was a portal to the past and the boy grew up to be the psychotic prisoner Giles is currently holding who is now only a few years younger than his freaking mother.”

“Tristan Black really is Tristan Summers.” Willow admitted. “He’s Buffy’s son and I have no idea what we’re supposed to do about this.”

Tristan once again found himself chained up and handcuffed to the table in the interrogation this time waiting for the founder of the slayer rehabilitation center wondering if he, Willow or Faith had found out his true identity fearing the truth would be spilled before he was ready to use it as his latest weapon.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite kidnapper.” Tristan joked as Giles walked into the room and sat down at the table.

“I would prefer it if you stop calling me your kidnapper and start calling me Giles.” He replied to him.

“You know what Giles you’re lucky I have a thing for older men,” Tristan flirted with his mother’s former watcher and his mother’s one-night stand. “But next time you want to get a little kinky I think it’s only fair that you’re the one being chained up.”

“Faith seems to have quite the interest in you Tristan why is that?” Giles asked Tristan completely ignoring Tristan’s attempt at flirting.

“The girl is clearly obsessed with me for some reason but she’s barking up the wrong tree.” Tristan told him noticing he was making Giles blush. “You’re much more my type to be honest I bet your wound up tighter than my chains I promise if you’re brave enough to cross the table, I’ll find a way of loosening you up.”

“I want to talk to you about your upcoming psychological evaluation.” Giles said to him in a desperate bid to change the subject.

Faith and Willow took some time walking through the woods nearby the slayer rehabilitation center as Willow explained to Faith that she must’ve sent Tristan when he was a baby into a past in which he was adopted by a family before eventually learning his true identity as they began to puzzle together how Tristan went from an innocent baby to someone so twisted.

“I can’t get over the fact that Tristan Summers should be three years old not in his 20s wanting to kill everyone.” Faith said in disbelief as she tried to understand the complicated turn of events that led them to this situation.

“The only thing that has kept me going that has kept Buffy going is picturing Tristan having this perfectly normal life, but that boy is far from normal.” Willow admitted to her. “I can’t begin to imagine what his life has been like all these years or what he must’ve went through to wind up where he is now.”

“Simple really he fell in love with a vampire very much like his mother then he killed a bunch of slayers not so much like his mother.” Faith joked trying to make light of the situation. “The real question is how the hell did he become so damn strong?”

“Well we know children of slayers don’t usually develop their powers but at the same time we know Connor developed special abilities from being a son of two vampires so if you take into notion his parents are a slayer and a vampire then his strength makes sense which is the only thing about his entire life which actually does make sense.” Willow explained to Faith. “Poor Angel we told him his son had died and now he’s back wanting him dead as much as everyone else.”

“He’s going to hate me for keeping this from him.” Faith feared. “I never wanted to lie to him in the first place I knew it was going to come back and bite us all in the ass.”

“There’s also the worrying factor about Wolfram and Hart I mean if I figured this out with a little research it won’t be long till they work things out and start looking for Tristan again.” Willow worried.

Tristan was once again back in his prison cell bouncing his bouncy ball against the wall harder and harder the sound clearly annoying his female slayer guard who gave in to his annoyance much to his own delight.

“Would you...” She began to ask but before she had a chance to finish her question Tristan launched the bouncy ball into her mouth catching another female guard’s attention who began rushing over to the choking slayer all while playing into Tristan’s hands.

Before the other guard could get to her fellow slayer Tristan quickly grabbed a hold of the choking woman’s neck instantly snapping it before grabbing the keys out of her pocket and throwing her lifeless body onto the ground as the guard look at him in complete shock and horror, Tristan using the remaining guards state of shock to quickly unlock his cell gate and walk out of his prison.

“What the hell did you do you’re monster?” The guard screamed at him before charging towards the callous murderer only for Tristan to push his gate open once again so the gate slammed against her face before the two began to fight.

The fight doesn’t last long before Tristan got the upper hand of the girl, grabbing a hold of her neck and snapping it just like the other guard as the second slayer’s lifeless body fell to the floor.

“Okay listen up bitches!” Tristan shouted down the hall noticing the many slayers in their many cells. “It’s time to get our own back on these bloody bastards for thinking they can lock us up like animals.”

Tristan wasted no time in making a run for it as he ran through an empty hallway before reaching a large window in which he looked out of horrified to discover nothing but a huge drop towards a large ocean before turning back around to see Giles standing in front of him holding a gun.

“No offense darling but I’ve had my fun and now I’m bored so it’s time for me to get the hell out of here.” Tristan told him.

“You killed two of my girls like it was nothing to you.” He shouted clearly furious by his loss at Tristan’s hands.

“You should never cage an animal and expect it to just follows your rules.” Tristan replied with a smug smile. “This little operation of yours is a complete failure.”

“Stay there or I will shoot.” Giles warned him. “I will shoot you.”

“Please you’re boring old librarian trying to redeem a bunch of wayward slayers you’re hardly going to shoot me.” Tristan laughed. “Although I do love it when you flirt with me.”

“You wouldn’t be my first kill.” Giles admitted to him.

“Okay this flirting is getting stale now.” Tristan said as Faith and Willow appeared from around the corner just in time for Giles to fire his gun three times.

Two bullets hit Tristan’s body with force one hitting him in the chest and another in the stomach while the third one hit the window causing the glass to shatter while the force of being shot threw Tristan backwards until Tristan fell out the window causing both Faith and Willow to scream out in horror.

A panicked Faith quickly ran over towards the window desperate to see some sign of Tristan only to be left horrified to see nothing but the ocean.

“I had no choice he already killed two of my girls.” Giles told them before Willow walked over to the former watcher and harshly smacked him across the face.

“You just shot and probably killed Buffy’s son.” Willow said to him with a cold stare completely furious by Giles’ actions. “He didn’t die we placed him in the past to protect him and after all this time we finally found him only for you to kill him.”

Willow left Giles in shock by her revelation as she walked over to the window to stand by Faith’s side as the two girls looked down to see nothing but ocean fearing that Buffy’s son wouldn’t have survived the fall even if he managed to survive being shot.

Tristan’s seemingly lifeless body washed up on the shore of a beach front completely motionless looking like he was dead, but his story was far from over his story was just about to change to the next chapter.

Suddenly Drusilla appeared from out of the nearby woods rushing over to the man she considered to be one of her children before lifting him up into her arms looking at him in the exact same way, she looked at him when he was just a baby.

“Oh no my little baby boy what they have done to you?” She said to Tristan’s unconscious body while continuing to carry him as she walked towards the woods. “But don’t you worry my littler cherub mummy is back now and I’m going to make you all better again.”

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noctem-novelle · 6 years ago

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This February, celebrate Black History Month with Black authors!

Culture is important, whether it’s your own to celebrate or someone else’s that you can learn about and appreciate. In the last few years, we’ve seen a steady increase in people of colour, LGBT communities, non-Christian religions, and non-European cultures represented in young adult and middle-grade fiction. While this is a great improvement and definitely a step in the right direction, people of colour are still underrepresented. We can do more to make sure that authors of colour are seen and heard. The following list, while by no means exhaustive, is a selection of excellent YA and MG novels written by Black authors*. This month, take some time to explore their stories.

*This list appears in no particular order and is not intended to be read as though any one book is superior to another.

1. The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas (Young Adult)

When sixteen-year-old Starr Carter witnesses the fatal shooting of her childhood best friend, she must decide whether to lie low or to join the protesters who seek justice for Khalil. A touching, timely, and often raw story about a girl who finds herself when she feels most lost, it’s no wonder this book has spent more than 100 weeks on the New York Times Best Sellers list.

2. Riding Chance by Christine Kendall (Young Adult)

Based on Philadelphia’s Work to Ride program, this novel follows a young man who gets into some trouble at school and winds up doing community service at the Chamounix Stables in Fairmount Park. There, he learns to play polo, an intense sport that teaches perseverance and focus. This book really hit home for me, having spent most of my childhood at polo matches with WTR. In real life, Work to Ride provides underprivileged children and teenagers in Philadelphia with constructive extracurricular activities, peer mentorship, and even college enrollment assistance. To learn more about Work to Ride, check our their website or Facebook page!

3. Let’s Talk About Love by Claire Kann (Young Adult/New Adult)

Let’s talk about the amazing QPoC rep in this book! Alice, who is asexual and biromantic, is determined to spend her post-breakup summer on a tv binge. She definitely does not intend to fall for her co-worker, Takumi. Whoops. This book is a mostly-fluffy slow-burn romance, full of nerdy pop-culture references. If you remember tumblr circa 2011, this book is for you.

4. Garvey’s Choice by Nikki Grimes (Middle Grade)

Garvey’s father has always wanted him to be an athlete, but Garvey is just not interested. When his only friend convinces him to join their school chorus, Garvey finds confidence and a new way to communicate to his distant dad. Told in verse, this is a heartfelt novel about one boy’s transformation through music.

5. American Street by Ibi Zoboi (Young Adult)

In her debut novel, Ibi Zoboi draws on her experience as a Haitian immigrant to tell the story of Fabiola, a young woman whose mother is detained by U.S. Immigration when they emigrate from Port-au-Prince to Detroit. This book explores the cost of the “American dream” with a mix of family drama, romance, and a hint of magical realism.

6. The Poet X by Elizabeth Acevedo (Young Adult)

Xiomara feels both invisible and too visible in a world that doesn’t want to hear her but is happy to objectify her. To express herself and to find some relief from her religious mother’s strict expectations, she turns to slam poetry. This novel-in-verse includes romance, wavering faith, and feminism.

7. Piecing Me Together by Renee Watson (Young Adult)

This powerful novel features a young woman who is determined to make it out of her impoverished neighbourhood. Jade’s mother taught her to take every opportunity she’s offered, so every day she takes the bus across town to a private school where there are plenty of opportunities, even if she doesn’t quite fit in. But some opportunities are less welcome than others, like the chance to join a mentorship program for “at-risk” girls. Sick of being singled out as someone who needs help, Jade hopes to find some autonomy and to stay true to herself.

8. Little & Lion by Brandy Colbert (Young Adult)

Suzette is home in Los Angeles for the summer and she isn’t sure she ever wants to go back to boarding school. Between supporting her bipolar brother, Lionel, and trying not to think about her clandestine relationship with her roommate, she’s got a pretty full plate. Unfortunately, she’s also falling for the same girl that Lionel likes. When Lionel’s mental illness sends him spiraling, Suzette must face her past to help him. This family features a blended family, Black Jewish characters, and a queer woman of colour.

9. Courage by Barbara Binns (Middle Grade)

T’Shawn has done his best to help out since his father’s death, but life gets complicated when his brother Lamont comes home from a stint in prison. T’Shawn finds peace on the diving board, and earns a scholarship to join a prestigious team at a local swim club. But when the neighbourhood crime rate starts to rise, T starts to think that he and Lamont may never put their pieces back together.

10. Monster by Walter Dean Myers (Young Adult)

A murdered drugstore clerk, a trial, and a young man in crisis. Monster is the story of Steve Harmon, amateur filmmaker and alleged murderer. To cope with the trial, Steve writes down the proceedings as if it were a film script, but as he tries to tell his own story, the truth starts to feel a little hazy. This one has also been adapted as a graphic novel.

11. All-American Boys by Jason Reynolds (Young Adult)

Rashad wasn’t stealing, but people sure seem to think he was. After he drops a bag of chips and a police officer beats him for it, Rashad is stuck in a hospital bed while the nation debates his character. Meanwhile, Quinn, a white boy who witnessed the beating, comes to learn that racism didn’t end with the Civil Rights Movement.

12. Akata Witch by Nnedi Okorafor (Young Adult)

Sunny is an albino girl living in Nigeria. Her skin tone often makes her an outsider, but she soon finds herself drawn into a community of magic users called Leopard People. Together with her new friends, Sunny is tasked with tracking down a killer known for maiming children.

13. The Red Pencil by Andrea Davis Pinkney (Middle Grade)

Amira is finally twelve and hopes to start school, but her life is turned upside down when the Janjaweed militia attacks her Sudanese village and her family must make the long and difficult journey to a refugee camp. Life at the camp is hard, but when an aid worker gives her a pencil and paper, Amira’s world begins to expand.

14. One Crazy Summer by Rita Williams-Garcia (Middle Grade)

Delphine Gaither and her two younger sisters travel from Brooklyn to Oakland to spend the summer with a mother they barely know. Imagine their surprise when she sends them to a Black Panther summer camp. Set in 1968, this historical fiction novel explores family dynamics and the importance of sisterhood.

15. Brown Girl Dreaming by Jacqueline Woodson (Middle Grade)

In powerfully emotional poetry, Woodson tells the story of her childhood and what it was like to grow up Black in the 1960s and 70s. This novel-in-verse won the National Book Award and the Coretta Scott King Award.

16. Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry by Mildred D. Taylor (Middle Grade)

Between the depression and threats from the night riders, the Logan family has had a tough year. Cassie doesn’t see why her family’s land is so important, but as she becomes more aware of the way their white neighbours treat them, she soon comes to understand that the family’s strength comes from having their own place in the world. This book tackles the ugly reality of racism in the deep south from the perspective of a precocious nine-year-old. It can be hard to stomach at times, but I think that just makes it more important.

17. Zora and Me by Victoria Bond & T.R. Simon (Middle Grade)

Part historical fiction and part small-town mystery, this fictional imagining of Zora Neale Hurston’s early days sees the author as a young girl, exercising her skills as a storyteller. When one of Zora’s tales seems to come true and a man winds up dead, she and her friend Carrie find that things in their little town are not as peaceful as they appear.

18. Blended by Sharon M. Draper (Middle Grade)

Every since her parents’ divorce, Isabella has felt torn in two. Two houses, two families, two races. Switching between her parents, also means switching between two different identities. How can she ever feel whole when she’s constantly split in half? This book examines the life of a biracial girl, and doesn’t shy away from addressing exoticism and the (PG) fetishisation of mixed-race people.

19. Black Enough: Stories of Being Young and Black in America edited by Ibi Zoboi (Young Adult)

This contemporary anthology delves into the many-faceted lives of Black teens in the United States. Popular authors from a wide variety of backgrounds have contributed their voices to show that being young and Black in America is not just one singular experience, but a constellation.

20. The Parker Inheritance by Varian Johnson (Middle Grade)

A hidden letter and a summer mystery are what await Candace when she pokes through an old box in the attic. With the help of her neighbour, Brandon, she deciphers the letter’s clues in the hopes of discovering a forgotten fortune. This book is perfect for readers who like a good puzzle.

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samgibbsnarrative · 5 years ago

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Project Idea 1:

For my first project idea I want to link it to one of the themes that I got from my book which is the theme of desire. Now of course Desire is a strong emotion which can drive people to do pretty outrageous and dangerous things. Following this theme I thought that it would be quite amazing to make a game based around this question:

“How far would you go in order to get what you desire”.

Now When I think of this kind of game concept I do think of some games that come to mind and also what kind of genre fits into these games and how they link to the theme of desire.The first game that I think about or also well known as a film franchise is Saw.

Saw:

If I had to give the Saw films and games a genre I would say that they are a horror puzzle sort of genre where people who not necessarily solve puzzle but instead escape traps in order to get what they desire which is the desire to live. In the saw franchises there are many links to desire such as the desires for freedom, revenge and information/the truth. Although these desires aren't very clear to the audience they can be implied by viewers who pay enough attention.

Desires for freedom:

Now this desire is very clear in both the games and films and I would say is one of the desires which stands out the most. This desire can be seen through the people who are willing to do anything in order to gain the freedom they want. Whether this means harming themselves or letting people die. In the saw films we see people who will murder without a second though in order to get the freedom they wish. For example in the newest Jigsaw movie. At the end of the film 2 people are locked in a room with a gun and the concept is simple. If you shoot the other person then you get to go free. In this moment of the film we see one of the characters without much hesitation get the gun to shoot the other person in the hopes that she gains freedom.This can be seen towards the end of this clip around 8 minutes in:

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Desires revenge:

This desire is not as prominent in the Saw films and is only seen briefly in the 4th saw film. In the film we discover that the person who is jigsaw ( John Kramer) was planning to have a baby with his wife. However due to getting in the way of a guy stealing some medication she gets badly hurt and unfortunately loses the baby/. We later on see John kidnap the man in order to get revenge. Many people question whether is scene was him getting justice or if it was him getting revenge. I personally think it was him getting revenge on the man.

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Desires for information:

Now this theme is a bit better to notice in the games.In the first game you play as Detective Tapp. A police officer who is obsessed with finding out who Jigsaw is. This is a common theme throughout the game as we meet a miss amanda young who talks about how the Detective kept harassing and bothering her for information on jigsaw. Even in the game when you save her from the trap she is in you start to question her about who Jigsaw is. All that Tapp desires is information which in the end of the game can become his downfall. Of course he also has a desire for freedom to escape where he is. At the end of the game though the player is given a choice. You can either fulfill your desire for freedom and leave or you can fulfil your desire for information and stay to get it. In the game you have the choice between truth and freedom.

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If you chose freedom you get to go free and go home. However your desire for the truth over comes you and you take your own life. If you give into your desire for the truth you end up stuck in the asylum unable to escape and it is implied you are there until you die.

Now a game which also links to desire but has a mush more puzzle game concept is portal:

Portal:

Now I am pretty sure in the portal game it is pretty clear that the character desires freedom and doesn't want to be a lab rat anymore who spends all there days completing puzzle after puzzle in order to please the AI in the game called GLaDOS. Once completing the final test GLaDOS puts you in an incinerator room in order to kill you.

However you as the player now try to escape the lab in order to get freedom. To do this you traverse through the maintenance rooms in order to find an exit.

Now the reason I looked into this game is because unlike the saw games/franchise this is much more puzzle based and has different levels where as saw is all one map. Another thing about this game is that it is more focusing towards comedy then saw is which I found to be quite interesting. For a game which doesn't have a comedic story and in the end actually gets a bit intense. I find this game to be quite good to look into in order to expand my horizons.

Book of desires:

Book of desires is a game that I stumbled upon when looking for puzzle games about desires.Now unlike the saw and portal games this game is not 3d in the sence that they used 3d models and 3d player models. This game has more of a mobile game style where you are given a scene and then have to try and find the objects on your list in that scene.

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I decided to look into this game as it has a different style to the other 2 games I looked into and I think that it has a nice really interesting style. I have been considering doing a project which has a different style to my other projects. One where I actually do more drawing than modelling and produce a 2d game instead of my own 3d games. This would be really nice to look into as it would be a nice change of scenery and a nice way not only to challenge myself but to also develop my skills.

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mysdrymmumbles · 8 years ago

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Getting Into My OC

A comprehensive breakdown of your OC.

Thank you to the wonderful @ellenembee for tagging me with this! I’m going to do Finley from Andraste’s Witch and Weslyn and Nicole from Tales of Mysdrym.

Thank you so much for the tag!

NAME: None, though she calls herself Finley as of the Conclave

AGE: 27 at the time of the conclave

GENDER: Female

ORIENTATION: pan

PROFESSION: Wilds’ Apostate

BACKGROUND:

Finley’s father was a heartless maleficar and her mother was an abomination. The demon inside her mother was a third parent of sorts, the only one who cared for her, and the only reason the others didn’t drown her when she was little, instead tricking her maleficar parents into believing that Finley’s blood would enhance their blood magic, thus ensuring they would keep her alive.

Around four years old, templars came and killed her parents. Because she had been a hostage of the blood mages, as far as the templars knew, they kept her with them, initially to keep an eye out for signs of possession, though they ended up becoming very protective of their dear, odd girl.

For the first time, Finley knew what it was like to be safe, to have a home. Her templars -- Ser Caudry, Ser Ross, and Ser Neil -- doted on her and treated her like their own child, telling her stories to make the world less frightening and always there to hold a hand when her nightmares were too much. She would steal the templars’ shields and run around, imagining herself a savior to others from the terrifying blood mages and monsters in the world. She didn’t want anyone else to be trapped with monsters like she had been and was determined to be like her heroes, even if she was very afraid of most all other people.

After 3 years of living with the templars, one of them, Ser Caudry, was brought back severely injured. Terrified that one of her heroes would die, Finley’s magic woke up, and she expended almost all of her energy healing him as best she could.

When she woke up, one of the other templars, Ser Neil, was taking her into the woods, telling her that she would be safe with the Avvar, as he feared what would happen to her if she was taken to a Circle when she was already so skittish and mentally frail. The Revered Mother from the Chantry they’d been living at, however, had already alerted the Circle of Finley’s magic, and the Circle templars caught up before they could get far into the mountains.

Ser Neil tried to fend off the templars, but one snuck up behind them and ran Finley through, just barely missing her heart. Distracted by Finley’s cry from getting hurt, Ser Neil was cut down in front of her.

When Finley next awoke, she was with the renowned Flemeth and one of her daughters. The great Witch of the Wilds had caught sight of the templars attacking Finley and Ser Neil and had been curious because Finley seemed a bit closer to the Fade than most her age, so she had intervened.

Flemeth told her that going back north would result in death, at best, and that there was a sliver of a chance she might survive if she fled into the Wilds. When Finley woke up, she was alone in a deserted camp that looked like it hadn’t been used in months.

Life in the Wilds was hard at first, but Finley learned that most of the creatures people deemed to be monsters could be allies of sorts, if one offered them the proper respect and understood that they simply followed their nature.

Seeking peace and quiet, she became known as the Green Witch, as her magic dealt mostly with nature and she wound up helping the lost find their way out of the woods and the like. Mostly she did it to prevent search parties from drawing too much attention to herself and bringing in the templars, but in the stories that sprung up around her, people lauded her a kind Witch.

Heartbreak and betrayal, as well as the demon that had possessed her mother, followed her through her life, leading to some hellacious trust and abandonment issues.

After the Blight, she devoted herself to finding a way to heal the Wilds and return them to the way they were before the arrogance of man had destroyed so much of it. It was during her research that a familiar old Witch came by to tell her that there was someone who could help her with her research, though she would need to go to the Conclave to get their assistance.

PHYSICAL

Body type: lithe

Eyes: blue with gold flame-like center around the pupils, fade-touched

Hair: fiery orange

Skin: tanned with oodles of freckles

Height: 5′3

Weight: 105

SKILLS (S.P.E.C.I.A.L + M)

Strength: 5/10, but only because she can heal herself well enough that she can over exert without too much in the way of repercussions.

Perception: Varies. 9/10 when she’s in the Wilds, on her own, 5/10 when she’s dealing with a lot of people, mostly because she may see what they’re doing but doesn’t understand what their little movements/tells mean so seeing it is meaningless, 6/10 when she’s in a fight and collected, 3/10 when her side is losing and she’s panicking that someone is going to die and she’ll be blamed. She tends to get hurt most often with the last one because she forgets to look after herself.

Endurance: 9/10. She’s been through some shit and is used to having to outrun/outlast templars.

Charisma: 2/10. Her general paranoia and fear of people betraying her does not lend well to being charismatic.

Intelligence: 7/10. Finley picks up on things quickly, so long as she can make sense of why it is done or why it is necessary. Her lack of understanding of currency, for example, stems from her not seeing a point in having tiny coins when one can just do favors for one another. Spells, she learns incredibly quickly, flips, and the like. Nuances to conversation and culture, not so much. Most of the time, her problems also stem from the fact that if she knows (or thinks she knows) one way to do something, she sees no point in learning another way when hers is already effective. She’s her own biggest obstacle.

Agility: 9/10. One does not outmaneuver a templar if one is slow.

Luck: 1/10. Father - maleficar. Mother - possessed and dead. 3 Templars - dead or exiled from the order. 1st love - possessed and dead. 2nd lover - possessed and dead. 3rd lover - was a liar who tried to sell her to the templars and Finley was almost beheaded while she ran away (she doesn’t like to talk about it). Demon stalker. Wilds ravaged. People messing up her wards and making them clunky and cumbersome. Stuck around a ridiculous number of templars. Expected to play nice with idiot nobility and mage haters. Favorite spider - stepped on by Hawke. Hawke - exists.

As far as Finley’s concerned, she has no good luck. Well, except for getting to meet the Alistair Theirin and a few other grey wardens.

Magic: 10/10 Finley is very good with magic, also rather condescending to anyone who doesn’t practice her style, which is everyone.

LIKES

Colors: birds, wild animals, the Wilds, not being around people

Smells: Fresh rain, ocean breezes, wildflowers

Food: For someone as picky as she is, she’s surprisingly blasé toward food in general

Fruit: any of them

Drinks: Anything non-alcoholic

Alcoholic drinks: she doesn’t like them because she likes to stay alert.

OTHER

Smoke: none. Smoke makes it easier for someone to find you.

Drugs: none, unless she’s slipping them to someone else so she can run away

Driver’s license?: much to Varric’s amusement, she claims she can ride kelpies, but not much else.

NAME: Weslyn Kagris, 2nd son of Jasserai Kagris

AGE: 28 at the beginning of the book

GENDER: male

ORIENTATION: gay

PROFESSION: emissary/make-shift monarch (not by choice)

BACKGROUND:

Weslyn grew up in Kyvrell, Mysdrym’s southern neighbor who has poor standing with Mysdrym ever since the Demons’ War four thousand years ago, during which the lands that now make up Kyvrell were abandoned by the crown. The people who survived the demonic onslaught and fall of their sacred temples refused to return to the rule of the people who had left them to die, and it is a point of pride that they have survived so well on their own. Especially considering that they are the ones who are most frequently attacked by the Chaotic shifters from the islands to the south.

While Weslyn had expected to join Kyvrell’s prominent military, being the second child of noble parents, when it became clear that the demons were reemerging after four turns (1 turn is 1000 years) of silence, he was elected to go to Mysdrym on behalf of Kyvrell to request the ancient seals that could lock the demons away once more.

He was nearly laughed out of court when he presented himself to High Grace Norwrithe of Mysdrym.

Even as he’d considered what he could do—he couldn’t return home without the seals, but knew he couldn’t expect the High Grace to take him seriously—he was approached by Lord Sehnswrift, a noble who had fallen out of favor with the high grace. Lord Sehnswrift was adamant that Weslyn was right; the demons were returning.

They began working together, gathering support where they could—even though he’d fallen from favor with the court, Lord Sehnswrift still held a great deal of respect among the soldiers.

Then, abruptly, Lord Sehnswrift staged a coup, with Weslyn at his side, murdering the high grace and scattering the surviving nobles from the capital. Despite taking power, Lord Sehnswrift showed no desire to take over the duties of running the country, instead handing the job off to Weslyn, who—despite pleas that him running things would make it look like Kyvrell had declared war on Mysdrym—finally accepted with great reluctance.

Despite the rather legitimate fear that he will be assassinated, Weslyn has done what he can to ease tensions, working on redirecting funds from the high grace’s parties to doing construction around Mysdrym’s capital and attempting to show the people of Mysdrym that he and Lord Sehnswrift wish to help.

He keeps his sword near him at all times, so that he will not be taken unawares.

After a few months of somehow managing to not have a heart attack whilst running a foreign country, Lord Sehnswrift gathered him to go and meet fabled other-worlders, who are sent by the Gods in times of strife. Weslyn is not particularly pleased with their arrival, as that means that the return of the demons is likely to be so devastating that the Gods thought other-worlders were necessary.

PHYSICAL

Body type: well toned

Eyes: gray

Hair: dark brown

Skin: coppery

Height: 5′11

Weight: idfk, he’s got muscle though

SKILLS (S.P.E.C.I.A.L + M)

Strength: 7/10. He’s a pretty solid fighter.

Perception: 7/10 He’d probably notice more, but he’s kind of paranoid about being assassinated, so what he thinks is hyper-vigilance does make him miss some stuff because he gets so easily distracted by harmless sounds and shadows.

Endurance: Varies. 9/10 in a fight, 6/10 dealing with the upkeep of the castle, 2/10 dealing with other-worlders’ bullshit, but he’s working on that last one.

Charisma: 5/10. He’s not great at hiding the growing terror that he’s going to be deposed with the Lord he sided with, should people come to reclaim the throne for the young grace.

Intelligence: 7/10. He’s a quick study, and a fairly good tactician.

Agility: 7/10. Not the fastest, but good at dodging stuff, in a fair fight. Demons don’t fight fair, though.

Luck: 4/10. He went to a foreign country to find out how to save his, got stuck running said country and accidentally freed the demon lord, when all he wants is to go home, so... not the best.

Magick: 3/10. He is not a fan of his healing magick, as it wears him down, but he is trying to strengthen it, as the other-worlders are so accident prone and it would help to have a healer while fighting the demons.

LIKES

Colors: reds, browns, golds

Smells: ocean breezes, baking bread

Food: He likes a good wyvern steak.

Fruit: eh, star flower fruit is alright

Drinks: something to take the edge off

Alcoholic drinks: yes, please

OTHER

Smoke: a good distraction tactic, if necessary.

Drugs: he sees enough shit hiding in the shadows, he doesn’t need drugs adding to it.

Driver’s license?: He does not come from a world with driver’s licenses, but he’s fairly good on a horse.

NAME: Nicole (Nik) Katerin Hedgeway

AGE: 21 at the beginning of the book

GENDER: female

ORIENTATION: pan

PROFESSION: other-worlder

BACKGROUND:

The first five years of Nik’s life are never brought up or talked about, other than to say her mother was unwell and unfit. Zachary’s father found Nik living in the woods behind their house, scrawny and underfed and terrified of people. He talked her into coming home with him, and while his wife and son talked with her, he called for help.

Nik’s mother had failed to inform anyone that she’d been missing, and had a breakdown after her reappearance, saying that Nik was the product of rape, and she couldn’t look at her. While Nik has always doubted this, her mother’s family did not, rallying behind her mother. When her aunt refused to shun Nik, saying she deserved to be with family, Nik, her aunt, and her cousin Samantha were all disowned.

Nik has fought with guilt over that for most of her life, though she can’t say that she thinks Samantha is missing out on much. Still, she knows it hurts her aunt and wishes she could fix things.

Because of a freak accident in the woods when she was 7 that left Nik severely injured, she was unable to go to school for two years and ended up being in the same grade as Samantha, Zachary, and Ella.

Her injuries have caused her problems ever since, and she’s been in and out of the hospital far too many times.

One of the things that has helped her the most throughout her life are stories that have been in her head for as long as she can remember, of fantastical creatures and magick. She is sure that they are as real as she is, and often claims to have seen them or other magickal creatures wandering the world.

While Samantha and Zachary—and later Ella—were fond of her stories growing up, Samantha has become disenfranchised with them, feeling that Nik is using them to avoid reality. Nik is annoyed that Samantha would be so quick to insist they are not real, but tries to keep the peace, as she knows Samantha will not accept her truths.

Knowing that Samantha has spent much of her life giving up too many things so that she can stay with and help her, Nik fakes getting accepted into a local college so that Samantha will go off into the world and have a chance to find herself, free from Nik’s shadow.

It doesn’t quite work, and when Zachary finds out she’s not in college, things get uncomfortable as she realizes she’s going to have to tell Samantha she lied.

However, before things can fall apart completely, Nik and Ella are whisked away to Mysdrym by a dog made of shadows.

Needless to say, Nik is ecstatic.

PHYSICAL

Body type: a bit too thin

Eyes: gray

Hair: brown

Skin: too pale

Height: 6′0

Weight: underweight

SKILLS (S.P.E.C.I.A.L + M)

Strength: 4/10. Despite being so thin, she can carry about as much as her healthier friends, and insists she could do more, if given the chance. She is never given the chance.

Perception: 4/10. Nik’s pretty thrilled to learn new stuff, but she doesn’t pick up on danger really quick. Like, she’ll be inspecting an awesome flower she’s never seen before and would be so entranced with memorizing the details on the pistils that someone could easily sneak up on her. She tries to pay attention, but gets distracted really easily.

Endurance: 7/10. She’s pretty proud that she’s been improving lately, not falling over and collapsing like she used to.

Charisma: 4/10. She’s friendly enough, but people often find themselves experiencing an innate unease from merely being around her, and as a result, a lot of people just try to avoid her.

Intelligence: 9/10. She catches on to stuff really quickly, even things she’s not able to do herself, and can walk others through how to do it (i.e. magick).

Agility: 8/10 fast for someone who looks like they’re about to fall over, and when Ella and Zach catch her doing things like backflips, they wonder how. Samantha threatens murder, though, so Nik tries to be subtle with any acrobatics, so that word doesn’t get back to her dear cousin.

Luck: 4/10. Things are always trying to kill her, when all she wants is to have fun and go on adventures.

Magick: 0/10. Much to her chagrin, she cannot use magick.

LIKES

Colors: all of them

Smells: leaves, wind - yes, she insists it does have a smell unto itself, nature-y things

Food: salad

Fruit: fuck yeah

Drinks: water

Alcoholic drinks: she is wary of alcohol and other mind-altering things

OTHER

Smoke: her cousin, Samantha, would kill her.

Drugs: just got off a bunch of prescribed bullshit against her doctor’s orders, and is not a fan of any type in general

Driver’s license?: due to her health issues, she’s not really allowed to drive, since she was prone to passing out and stuff for a while. Though she’s doing better, she doesn’t need one because she’s in Mysdrym now.

Tagging: @cometeclipsewriting, @momopichu, @commandershepardvasfuckit, @slothquisitor, @rederiswrites, @gugle1980, and @thesecondsealwrites. No pressure :D

#ocs #finley #andraste's witch #nicole hedgeway #weslyn kagris #tales of mysdrym #fun stuff :D #ty again for the tag!

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dramionee · 8 years ago

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Fanfiction Recommendations

Rated T

The Accidental Malfoy: T. Hermione is fed up of seeing her friends leave her behind. She's thirty, alone and broody. Not one to wait around, she decides to take matters into her own hands and have the child she's always wanted. The resulting pregnancy is far from what she expected.

Destiny: T. Hermione’s wedding night is everything but perfect for the young witch. Her new husband and long-time friend, Ronald, is passed out drunk and she thinks upon her life leading up to that night. Hermione falls asleep, despondent and alone. When she wakes up the following morning, she is still in bed with her husband. But it isn’t Ronald Weasley.

Seven Years and a Day: T. Seven years later, the world is nothing like they had hoped or imagined. They have accepted it, or at least, that is what everybody believes. But nobody can deny the truth forever.

Rated M/MA/NC-17

Clean: M. Malfoy's handsome face was contoured into a condescending smirk. "No faith in that giant brain of yours, Granger?" She looked up at him defiantly. "Maybe I don't have faith in you!" she said, raising her voice. Malfoy only looked at her. "You'll find I'm very surprising." Dramione AU, Year 6 with a slow burn and a killer twist.

The Deadline: M. It takes the unexpected engagement of their children to get Draco and Hermione in a room together, but only the selfish acts of their estranged spouses and a 300 Galleon bottle of firewhiskey will get them in a bedroom. What starts out as a one time mistake soon becomes a full-blown affair with a deadline; the day their children say ‘I do’. But things rarely go according to plan.

Donum Scientiae, a Gift for Learning: MA. Draco is a Roman senator in need of a tutor for his young son, Scorpius. Hermione is a Greek slave, more qualified than any other mage in the empire to educate the boy.

Dopplegangland: M. All Hermione wanted out of her evening was to close up the pub in peace and quiet. That plan sort of went out the window when she was kidnapped by Draco Malfoy, who proceeded to drop a baby on her lap.

Familiar Faces, Worn Out Faces: M. "You are at St. Mungo's. You were in a coma." He looks me over again, taking a pause. "I am a Healer here now," he says, like it explains something. My fingers stretch, drifting across his sleeve. He looks down, like I've thrown mud at him. Forcing my vocal chords together for the first time, I whisper, "What's your name?"

Femme Fatale: M. Draco Malfoy’s new position as an Auror for the British Ministry throws him head first into a hunt for a serial killer. Working with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, he sets out to catch the killer as well as entering into a romantic relationship with their other colleague, Hermione Granger. Murder mystery with a side helping of Dramione romance.

Full Body Control: M. When Hermione becomes pregnant after a one-night stand, she tries everything to get rid of it. Only after St. Mungo's staff confronts her with the conservative realities of a post-war wizarding world and the father of the child, does she realise how big the mess is she is stuck in.

Gingersnaps: M. Returning for their 8th year at Hogwarts, Draco and Hermione find themselves in each others lives once again. Will things be different now that the War is behind them? Late night study sessions and cookies bring this unlikely pair closer than they ever thought imaginable.

Hermione Granger and the 40-year-old Virgin: NC-17. At age fourteen, Draco Malfoy insults a legendary sex witch – a mistake that both he and his penis still regret at age forty.

The Initiate: MA. "Want to impress upon people that you’ve changed, Malfoy? Take responsibility for your actions and your choices. Not liking where you ended up, not wanting what came after doesn’t change the fact that you wanted it at the time. You were a willing participant. Changing your mind can’t erase any of that." (Mentions of rape)

Isolation: M. He can’t leave the room. Her room. And it’s all the Order’s fault. Confined to a small space with only the Mudblood for company, something’s going to give. Maybe his sanity. Maybe not.

A Marriage Most Convenient: M. Hermione lost it all when she divorced. Draco would lose it all by age 30 if he didn't marry. Marriage to each other would be perfect, one would even say it was most convenient. Her daughter even looked like him, although, he wondered why that was.

Mine: M. Hermione Granger is a single mother. The last thing she needed was to get involved with anyone, especially Draco Malfoy. Love however, has other plans.

Mudbloods For Sale: M. What if the Golden Trio took too long to hunt down the horcruxes? What if Voldemort got a strong hold in the Wizard World and his ideals began to spread? What if owning mudbloods became the new trend? (Warning: implied rape and violence)

A Muggle-born Magic: MA. Physician’s daughter Hermione Granger finds herself in need of a way to pay off her father’s debts after his death. Draco Malfoy, retired from the politics of the Isolationists, a group of pure-bloods bent on separating 'true’ magic from lesser folk, finds himself in need of a tutor for his son, Scorpius, who appears to be incapable of magic and must learn to survive in a world without it. Draco also needs a wife and mother for Scorpius, to satisfy a promise to his unwell father. After she saves his son from an attack by Isolationists, Draco hires the Muggle-born Miss Granger for the former, and after a riot in Vauxhall Gardens and a scandalous discovery made by his mother, weds that selfsame Muggle-born for the latter. While making the best of her marriage of (in)convenience, Hermione discovers that Scorpius’ history of wild imaginings and dreams is more than just imagination. As she attempts to teach him about magical abilities no one expected he would ever have, she and Draco work together to raise Scorpius and learn to trust each other.

Ninety-Five Percent: M. A new Wizarding Marriage Law has come into effect and Hermione takes her chance with the Ministry and lets them decide who would be the best match for her. Who would ever believe that Draco Malfoy would be her best match with a 95% Compatibility?

Relationship Status: Pending: M. Hermione Granger is edging thirty, accident prone and haplessly single. One night, she decides it would be humourous (and hilariously masochistic) to timeline her failed relationships in a memoir. From losing her v-card in a broom closet, to hooking up in a public loo, to ruining her best friend’s wedding - she’s done it all.

The Request: M. Astoria was never a fan of Hermione Granger, but pretty soon, she would be gone, and Draco was going to need all the help he could get.

Ride or Die: M. The Death Eaters are an outlaw motorcycle club run by Tom Riddle, a notoriously ruthless leader who gradually works the brotherhood into high stakes criminal activity after the death of their previous president. Draco Malfoy is heir to the throne, but his life abruptly changes when fate lands him in the hands of a young doctor who is about to get in way over her head. Dramione, Muggle AU.

Seven for a Secret: MA. Draco celebrated Beltane with a woman whose face he never saw. Eight years later, he meets a little boy whose face is a match for his.

Squirm: M. Draco Malfoy falls into a strange obsession with Hermione Granger. But it's a risk -he holds a dark, sinister secret, and if he becomes too close, she just might find out what it is.

Switch: MA. It was only supposed to be one night - a set-up with a hot guy at a fetish club in Muggle London for some mind-blowing, no-strings-attached sex where Hermione would play the submissive role. However, when her amazingly skilled and sensual partner, Draco Malfoy, kept sending her tickets and roses to return to the club to meet again and again, how could a single, sexually-experimental girl say 'no’? Hermione’s about to learn the hard way that the sins of the flesh can prove to be too tempting for the body - and the heart - to resist.

Teardrops & Teacups: MA. Forced to end her relationship with Draco because of a betrothal contract, Hermione launches herself into her work. She spends the next four years traveling the world researching, interviewing, and working towards eradicating all the remaining Pureblood laws that still seem to dictate the Wizarding World even after all this time. In the process, Hermione battles inner demons and learns more about herself than she ever could have imagined.

Through The Window, We Go: M. (for language) When Draco Malfoy, a suburban thug with nothing better to do than cause trouble and run from the police, climbs through his next door neighbor’s window in hopes of hiding away he finds himself dodging thrown books and accusations from a very disgruntled Hermione Granger. And, despite heated arguments over right and wrong, Draco is tempted to steal Hermione’s heart away.

Trusting Malfoy: M. Hermione’s memories are gone. Fearing everyone, including Harry and Ron, Hermione finds herself drawn to Draco Malfoy, trusting him to keep her safe and help her recover her memories. Draco teams up with Harry and Ron in finding the culprit behind everything. Times have definitely changed!

A Wonderful Caricature of Intimacy: M. Draco loves his son more than anything in the world. So, when his ex-wife plans to take his son away, Draco asks the most unlikely person for help. Hermione must decide whether changing her entire life is worth helping the man she hates unconditionally.

#dramione #the rec list no one asked for #dramione fic recs #I usually only read rated M #I've read all of these and approve of all of them #I'll add on whenever I find something worthy #updated

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chrismerle · 8 years ago

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If the Ring Fits

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Characters: Prompto Argentum. Noctis Lucis Caelum. Ignis Scientia. Gladiolus Amicitia. Brief appearances by Nyx, Cor, Regis, and some astrals. Mentions of a few others. Pairings: Prompto/Noctis. Ignis/Prompto. Gladio/Prompto. Prompto/Noctis/Ignis/Gladio. Implied Ardyn/Prompto. Chapter Rating: PG-13 Warnings: Some blood. Some death. It’s all really vague and impermanent, though. There’s a lot of dimension hopping. Word count: 10,194. I got a little carried away. Notes: So I wrote this for the kink meme, and then I posted it to AO3 just so it would be all in one place instead of in eleven different posts. The reception was startling good. So I remembered ‘oh, right, I technically have a writing blog to shove this thing in even more faces.’ I’ve never really written these characters before, so of course my first attempt is 27 pages long and involves like a dozen AUs. Because I make sense. The prompt in question: "Prompto is some how stuck falling asleep and wakeing up in multiple AU.+ Prompto is super happy with the day he spends as a free chocobo running around with his chocobro's ++Prompto wakes up as an MT and proceeds to freak out and all other MT's think he's malfunctioning +++Prompto wakes up to haveing every one of his friends be his boyfriend at some point (he's not sure if he's OK with that) ++++Prompto wakes up next to Ardyn to discover that he was created in a lab to be Ardyn's eternal companion ( can be sexually, can be friendly, or can be fatherly)" Obligatory Disclaimer: I don’t own FFXV, since I’m not Square-Enix and I don’t even know anyone from Square-Enix. I don’t own the characters. I’m just playing with them. That said, I came up with the really weird AUs on my own, so I would appreciate if people didn’t borrow them without ask.

It was a decent deal. Dino gave them free jewelry, they just had to report to him whatever it actually did because he was mostly just throwing darts in the dark.

On one such occasion, it was a ring. Silver, unassuming, with a small crystal clear cabochon set in it. Prompto, drawing the short straw, was volunteered to see what it did. Also because he had the smallest hands and even then it only fit his pinky finger.

At first, it was hard to notice any oddities. That wasn't all that unusual, though. Most of the experimental jewelry didn't do anything overt until they were neck deep in MTs or gigantoads or something like that. So Prompto thought little of it and went to sleep that night without a care in the world, save for the rock digging into his back from under the floor of the tent.

It started small.

He woke up the next morning and nothing seemed out of place until Noct stumbled out of the tent when the smell of breakfast finally roused him.

"Were your eyes always green?" Prompto asked, staring at the prince in bewilderment.

Noct's brows furrowed in sleepy confusion. "Yeah…?" he answered slowly, like it was some sort of trick question. "Did you get enough sleep last night?"

"Could'a sworn they were blue…?"

"You're getting me mixed up with Ignis," Noct sighed. "Do you need to lay down or something?"

Prompto stared at him, but no one shouted 'just kidding!' so he plastered a grin into place and rubbed the back of his head with one hand. "Nah, I'm good! Just…a bit of a brain fart. You know me!"

Noct cuffed him fondly over the back of the head before toppling into a camp chair to doze off until Ignis thrust a plate under his nose.

The rest of the day was business as usual, except that they actually got to fall asleep in a motel. He fell asleep with Gladio's bulk nearly shoving him out of the bed, to the soothing strains of Ignis and Noct arguing over whether or not making cereal counted as a life skill.

Despite that, Prompto woke up in the rain, slumped over the door of the Regalia. The windshield was in pieces and the front bumper was firmly embedded in the guardrail. When he sat up, he nearly flew out of his skin at the sight of Ignis slumped over the steering wheel, arms limp and eyes wide and unseeing.

Slowly, as if he couldn't quite control himself, Prompto turned to look into the backseat.

Gladio was sprawled across the seat, neck bent at an odd angle. Noct was nowhere to be found, at least not until Prompto stumbled out of the car and broadened his search.

There, a few yards away, Noct was splayed out in the road at the end of a bloody skid, his coat in tatters.

Prompto clapped his hands over his mouth to hold back last night's dinner, and he turned slowly when a mechanical voice intoned, "Life signs detected."

A bullet lodged itself into the front of his skull, and he woke up in a bright, airy room, throwing himself upright with a gasp.

He got a face full of blanket, and it took him a moment to realize he was on a rug that had no business being as comfortable as it was, inside a blanket fort.

Beside him, Lunafreya stirred, one eye opening to blink up at him. "Prompto?" she asked groggily. "Is everything alright?" She looked like she had fallen asleep just as unexpectedly as he had, a book open beneath her shoulder, its spine protesting at the abuse.

"Ah--" His mouth worked noiselessly for a moment, and he looked out the window into the forests of Tenebrae.

…What.

"Was it another nightmare?" she asked gently, sitting up on her knees. She closed the book and moved it aside as an afterthought.

Prompto's mouth closed with an audible click, and Luna's eyes gentled. Reaching over, she knitted her fingers with his, lifting his hands and squeezing. "They won't find you," she assured him, with all the weight of the Oracle. "They will never find you. I promise you that."

It took him a moment to realize he didn't have any gloves or wristbands, his barcode on full display. He goggled at it for a few seconds.

Evidently taking his bewilderment as further distress, Luna stood, tugging insistently on his hands until he stood up with her. "Come with me," she urged, an impish smile stealing onto her face for just a flicker. She set off at a brisk walk, still holding one of his hand's hostage so he had no choice but to stumble after her until he finally found his footing.

He stared in awe at the ceilings of the corridor and at the view out the windows, and he couldn't help but think of the first few times he had been in the Citadel, gaping like a fish as Noct showed him around and tried not to laugh.

Their trek ended in the kitchen, and Luna pressed a finger to her lips, as if there was any possibility of Prompto breathing a word of any of it to anyone.

Finally, she released his hand, pulling open both doors of the fridge and reaching inside. With her back to him, he couldn't see what she was grabbing, and when he tried to peer over her shoulder, she hip-checked him.

Letting one fridge door swing closed, she nudged the other one shut with her shoulder and finally turned, two pastries held in each hand. They were small and flaky and looked like nothing Prompto ever would have been able to afford to eat on his own, and she pressed two of them into his hands like it was no big deal.

After the first bite, he had to bite his tongue to keep himself from making a noise that probably qualified as obscene as some sort of jam spilled over his tongue. Luna grinned at him knowingly before biting into one of her own pastries.

Afterwards, when the pastries were gone, Luna asked softly, "Feeling any better?"

"I…yeah," he settled on, because he still had no idea what was going on, but whatever he just ate had probably saved his soul from six kinds of damnation. "It was just a, uh…a weird night."

She leaned into his shoulder, her warmth comforting despite how foreign it was.

He slid her a sideways glance. "You got, uh…" He tapped the tip of his own nose.

Reaching up to touch her own nose, Luna drew in a breath and breathed it out as a huff of startled laughter as she brushed the powdered sugar from her nose.

"Come on." She looped one of her arms around one of his and once again began to tow him along. "Ravus will be most displeased if you're late."

At the name 'Ravus,' Prompto was pretty sure he only actually kept walking because his legs were moving on autopilot. "Oh. I guess we wouldn't want that."

She deposited him at a different room than the one they originally left from. His, presumably. After a brief investigation through the wardrobe--he had a wardrobe--and the desk and the photos and his phone, he found what he was about sixty percent sure was supposed to be his uniform. The short sleeved white shirt and the white vest and the white trousers and the white boots were all well and good, but he could have cried out of relief when he saw that it came with a pair of fingerless gloves that went clear up to his elbows (also white, naturally). The only part of the ensemble that wasn't white was the belt with the holsters for his guns, which was all instead a meltingly soft beige leather.

He had gotten too accustomed to Noct sharing the armiger. The weight of his guns at his hips took a bit of getting used to.

His day was spent trailing after Ravus, who was significantly less terrifying when he was frazzled and looked like he was ready to punt an ass-kissing diplomat out a window and off the mountain.

Prompto fetched papers. Fetched coffee. Fetched 'please don't murder anyone' snacks. Ferried papers here and there and everywhere. He was a gofer, he belatedly realized as he ate lunch, listening to Luna and Ravus argue good-naturedly about which of them got to take the next vacation.

No one ever said anything about his clothes, so Prompto assumed he had gotten it right.

"Shouldn't the Oracle get the final say?" he wondered eventually, pushing a green bean around his plate with a fork, because it would probably seem weird if he just never said anything.

Ravus rolled his eyes emphatically. "One of these days, you'll take my side."

"Only on the clock, sir," Prompto fired back before he could help himself. He only just kept the urge to clap his hands over his mouth in check.

Luna, on the other hand, burst into a fit of laughter behind her fingers as Ravus threw his hands up in resignation and left.

Prompto brought him a pastry halfway through the afternoon, and Ravus seemed to understand it as the ceasefire it was meant to be. Prompto had a guess at how he got there—the ring was still around his finger—but not how long he would be there, so there was no reason to make his stay more difficult for himself.

Dinner was in the garden, Prompto's presence largely forgotten as Luna and Ravus discussed what to do about the Nifleheim airships patrolling closer and closer to the borders each week.

He had his own chocobo, he learned that evening. He probably could've died happy just knowing that. Her name was Paisley, apparently, and she was such a pale yellow she was nearly white. Luna's own bird, with her beak shoved into Prompto's pocket to scrounge for treats, actually was white. And named Nova.

On a whim, Prompto challenged Luna to a race around the grounds. He didn't even mind when he lost.

That night, when the chocobos were asleep in their stalls, Luna was tucked away in her room, and Ravus was presumably dreaming about throwing paperwork off the mountain like confetti, Prompto laid down on a bed that had to have been stuffed with the dreams of the Astrals. He pulled a blanket that he was pretty sure was made of unicorn fur over himself, and he was asleep almost before he could close his eyes.

He woke up on a couch to the sound of his phone shrieking at him. Groaning, Prompto flailed an arm towards it and dragged it towards his face. "Yeah?"

"Considering you were supposed to meet us an hour ago, you are welcome to make an appearance any time now," Ignis informed him, managing the pleasant 'why do you disappoint me so?' tone that Prompto had only ever heard Ignis manage.

Prompto threw himself upright, squawking, "Shit!" right before he fell off the couch.

"Are you alright?" Ignis asked, caught somewhere between mild concern and quiet amusement.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm great!" Prompto hastily spit out. "I totally crashed out on the couch and I guess I lost track of time? Shit, I am so sorry--"

"No one is asking you to self-flagellate, Prompto. Just meet us there."

"Right! Got it! I'll see you there!"

The line went dead.

Prompto wasn't actually sure where 'there' was, but when he looked around the room, he found himself in his den, and when he looked out the window, he saw the streets of Insomnia, rather than Tenebraen trees. (So what had been the dream? Tenebrae? The attack? This? He looked down at his hand, and the ring gleamed at him.) He checked his phone and saw that it was Tuesday afternoon.

So…the arcade, probably? It seemed like a safe bet. Prompto stepped into his boots and fled out the front door.

When he made it to the arcade, Noct was already fully absorbed in a racing game, perched on the fake, stationary motorcycle while Gladio periodically tried to pull him off the bike and dodged the resulting kick towards his kneecaps. Ignis, apparently past the point of trying to be above it all, was aiming a plastic rifle at a screen a few games over.

Prompto crept up to the back of the bike, threw his arms around Noct's middle, and with a glorious war cry, he hauled the crown prince off the fake bike. Noct shrieked like a six year old child, arms and legs flailing, and on the screen his character crashed with a fabulous explosion. At the commotion, Ignis fumbled the plastic rifle, catching it again just in time for the screen to proclaim 'TIME IS UP!' while Gladio collapsed against a game cabinet in a fit of laughter.

Finally, Noct went limp in Prompto's hold, like a resigned kitten.

"Sorry, did I do that?" Prompto wondered, looking at the racing game as it returned to the start screen.

"I hate you," Noct deadpanned.

Prompto let him go, instead bringing a hand to his chest as he gasped, "Me? I'm hurt, man!" He wilted theatrically against Gladio's shoulder. "I'll never recover."

"Pay for my next game," Noct bargained, "and I'll take it back."

"I don't have any change, so I guess I'll just live with the pain." Prompto waved it off. "On that note, can I have some change?"

Noct handed a handful over, and with a whoop, Prompto launched himself onto the bike. He crashed it off a cliff and into a waterfall about a minute and a half in, but once he picked up the plastic rifle, he did at least manage to blow Ignis's score out of existence.

They loped along the street afterward, Noct and Prompto wrestling halfheartedly over the last few coins, until they got distracted staring in the window of a high end store. Dressed in regular, non-Crownsguard, non-royal battle raiment as they were, the clerk in the store took one look at them before locking the door.

"'Oh, I'm sorry,'" Gladio mocked as they continued along the street, one hand to his chest and his pinky extended, "'but you're only permitted to come in if you shit three gold bars and a heliodor necklace each morning.'"

Prompto spluttered out a startled laugh and even Ignis had to hide a twitch of a smile behind one hand.

All thoughts of pricey stores were forgotten, though, when they passed a cotton candy vendor. Prompto and Noct initiated the Tag Team Puppy Pout Devastation Attack, and it took about half a second before Ignis caved and bought some for them. He kept stealing bits from them afterwards, but Prompto supposed they owed him that much.

They meandered through the city as if nothing had ever changed, and Prompto tried hard to ignore the ring around his pinky finger that stubbornly reminded him that things had, indeed, changed.

Soon enough, he wound up in Noct's room as they both played King's Knight, at least until Prompto was yawning and he was starting to go cross-eyed at the screen.

He sprawled out on Noct's bed, his hands under his head. Noct sat down beside him eventually, cross-legged on the mattress as he scrolled through his phone. His idle commentary on his messages and updates, like so many nights before, gradually lulled Prompto off to sleep no matter how he tried to keep his eyes open.

He woke up on a cot. To its credit, it was more comfortable than some of the motel beds he had passed out on. He could hear an engine, but it was too loud to be a car and it rattled the entire cot, and for that matter he didn't know of any cars big enough to fit a cot. Especially not a cot big enough for two people.

He was pretty sure he was starting to grasp how the ring worked.

He cracked an eye open and found himself in…an airship?

"Good morning."

Prompto felt ice down his spine at the (admittedly unexpectedly casual) greeting, and he turned his head slowly to see the chancellor sitting on a bench bolted to the opposite wall and scrolling through a tablet.

"Tea?" Ardyn offered, gesturing loosely to a thermos sitting on the bench.

"Um."

Finally, Ardyn glanced up, offering Prompto a sardonic look over the top of the tablet. "I wasn't aware that was a difficult question."

Sitting up so he was kneeling on the cot, Prompto shook his head stiffly. "No thanks."

"Hm. Well, we'll be in Gralea soon."

And just like that, the conversation was over. It sounded a bit like a dismissal, so Prompto was going to assume he was supposed to get dressed and ready for the day. After surprisingly little fumbling and dilly-dallying, he managed to find and put on…some sort of guard uniform? Whatever it was, it involved armor. He almost felt sort of badass, but he was also pretty sure he would scare people if they ran into him at night. He wasn't sure how to feel about that.

He looked…a bit like an MT, if he thought about it, so he decided not to think about it. Instead, as he sat on the edge of the cot, he reached for one of his guns without even thinking, because dismantling them, cleaning them, and putting them back together had become a strangely soothing ritual since leaving Insomnia.

Stranger still, he actually reached a gun. He shot a glance up at Ardyn, wondering how he had access to the armiger if Noct wasn't there, before he stared down at the shotgun across his lap because frankly, that thought was more terrifying than he really wanted to deal with just then. It wasn't one of his handguns, but if he could figure out how to maintenance a soundblaster, he could figure out how to take care of a shotgun.

Halfway through, the floor of the airship juddered and he looked up. "We, uh--we landing?"

"Hm." Ardyn glanced up over the edge of the tablet again, his gaze probing. "You seem distracted, pet."

Prompto jumped when Ardyn was abruptly right there, crouching in front of him, his hands on Prompto's knees.

"It...was a weird night." He had the strangest feeling that he was going to be saying that a lot.

"Ah, more dreams?" Ardyn sounded strangely amused. "Shall I get the programmer to take another look in your head again?" He grabbed Prompto's chin between two fingers, tipping his face up.

Prompto felt like a fist had closed around his chest, and he had the sudden urge to start scraping his skin off to see what was under it. "Wha--no." He jerked his head back "No, it's fine, it's not a big deal."

"If you insist." Ardyn stood up again, venturing towards the gangplank as the airship readied to land. Prompto ducked his head, shoulders rounding, and hurried to finish with the shotgun.

Prompto was not accustomed to 'see, but don't be seen.' And yet, that seemed to be his role. Be one with the crowd. Be one with the landscape. Be one with the furnishings. Brandish the shotgun as needed. He supposed it was good that school had prepared him for that pretty well. The invisibility part, at least. Less so the 'threaten with bodily harm' part.

"How quaint." Ardyn seized his hand somewhere around mid-evening, inspecting the ring with a knowing, unnerving glint in his eye. "I don't recognize it."

"Found it." The words tumbled out of Prompto's mouth. "I liked it. It, uh--it made me think of you." He was guessing, but he was pretty sure that was appropriate for this world's Prompto to say. Ardyn looked sort of charmed by the admission, at least. "Can I keep it?"

Ardyn pet one hand through Prompto's hair. "If you're so fond of it. Now, if you'll excuse me," he turned towards the double doors before them, "there are a few people I need to feed a piece of my mind to. I shan't be long." He strolled away, the doors closing with a thunderous bang.

Prompto waited just long enough to be sure Ardyn wasn't going to pop right back out before he slid down the wall to sit on the floor, gathering his knees close to his chest. He folded his arms on top of them and tucked his face against his arms, despite how uncomfortable the armor made it.

He needed a nap. He needed to be somewhere--anywhere!--else.

He was already on his feet when he woke up, with a helmet on his head and wearing far too much armor. He could still feel the ring, digging into his knuckle beneath a gauntlet that may as well have been bonded to his skin for how tight it was.

He looked around and found himself lined up with dozens of others, all wearing the exact same armor. Considering how many of them he had filled full of bullets and riddled with holes, he could recognize magitek soldiers in an instant.

And he was lined up with them, like cattle. That wasn’t quite what he meant by ‘anywhere else.’

He heard a digital, mechanized shrieking noise and didn't realize he had started screaming until every other MT around him was staring at him impassively.

He started pulling at the armor, gauntlets scrabbling over metal until it was leaking some black, viscous ooze.

As if with one voice, the MTs surrounding him intoned, "Unit malfunction."

He backed up, only to back into the MT behind him. Hands landed on his shoulders, holding him in place as the unit in front of him turned and advanced the short distance.

At first he thought he was going to be hauled off to a lab for some sort of reprogramming, but then he remembered that MTs were a dime a dozen, disposable, and replaceable. Right before his helmet was wrenched from above his shoulders.

He woke up in the grass, to a warm, pleasant breeze ruffling his feathers.

…Wait a minute.

With a squawk--a very literal squawk--Prompto hopped to his feet, talons snagging in the grass and sending him right back down to the ground in a heap of too-gangly legs.

Much more carefully, he disentangled himself from…himself and stood up, and stared down at as much of himself as he could see. He saw feathers. Bright yellow feathers. And talons, the ring still clasped around one of them. He took off at a sprint for the nearest puddle and stared down at his reflection.

He was a chocobo. A slightly shrimpy chocobo, but a chocobo nonetheless. There were three other chocobos watching his antics with long-suffering fondness.

An equally shrimpy black chocobo with familiar blue eyes. A larger white chocobo with green eyes, busily preening the black one. And another black chocobo the size of a garula, prowling defensively through the valley.

With a delighted 'kweh!' Prompto danced in place before taking off towards Noct. Ignis threw himself out of the way at the last instant, just in time for Prompto crash into Noct. They went down in a puff of feathers and a tangle of legs, only for Prompto to immediately pry himself free of the tangle and go fleeing across the valley with Noct hot on his heels.

They raced in circles around Gladio until they wound up crashing right into him. The giant of a chocobo didn't even budge, at least not until he ducked his head under Noct and tossed him out of the way, and then tossed Prompto aside in much the same way. He fluffed all of his feathers out and stalked away from their shenanigans as Prompto tried to kick his way back to his feet from where he had landed on his back.

Prompto had never heard or seen a chocobo sigh in all-encompassing exasperation, but Noct managed it admirably before he ducked his head and effectively bulldozed him back to his feet.

Prompto spent a few minutes preening Noct's crest in thanks.

They chased sabertusks after that, herding them around the valley until they fled back through the hills, and then Prompto and Noct charged into the pond and paddled in circles, legs kicking and wings fluttering, splashing water everywhere until Gladio and Ignis gave up on pretending they could stay dry and waded in after them.

Prompto chased fireflies through the marsh grass as the sun went down, catching them in his beak only to immediately let them go. He tossed himself back into the pond as the moon was high in the sky, keeping himself awake even as Ignis and Gladio bedded down in the clover. He didn't want to go to sleep just yet.

Noct stood at the edge of the pond, chirping at him encouragingly until at last Prompto gave in. He paddled back to the grass and shook himself, water flying in all directions and feathers puffing out until he looked more like a dandelion with legs than a chocobo.

He followed Noct back to where Ignis and Gladio were already curled together. They painstakingly wedged their way into the knot of birds and laid down, Prompto's neck curved so his head rested on his wing and Noct's head on Prompto's neck.

The air smelled like oncoming rain, but the breeze was gentle and for the moment it was warm, and Prompto was surrounded by feathers, both his own and his friends'. He nestled his beak under the edge of his wing and slowly fell asleep.

He woke up in a bed, someone's arm thrown over his middle, presumably attached to the person spooned against his back with their face tucked against the back of his neck. Cracking one eye open, he recognized the familiar wallpaper of the Leville, even in the early morning darkness. Slowly, he hazarded a glance down at the hand splayed across his abdomen. He recognized the long, slender fingers, though it took a few seconds for realization to actually dawn on him, and he threw himself sideways with a strangled yelp. He fell right over the side of the bed, landing on the thin carpet with a thump.

A moment later, a bedside lamp turned on and Ignis peered down at him blearily, squinting slightly without his glasses and shirtless and holy shit Ignis was ripped.

"Dare I ask?"

'Oh, nothing much, I've just apparently landed in the universe where you're a snuggler,' Prompto did not say, instead just blinking dumbly at Ignis. He gave his head a quick shake and sat up, legs splayed artlessly in front of him and his hands on the carpet.

"Uh--weird dream," he settled on, lifting a hand to drag it through his hair. He hauled himself back up onto the bed, flopping face down onto the pillow.

Ignis stroked one hand through Prompto's hair in sympathy, before leaning down to kiss the back of his head. Prompto was very glad he was already face down on the bed, or else he probably would have fallen over.

The bed shifted as Ignis sat up. "Well, if you don't plan on going back to sleep, you're welcome to help me get breakfast started." The dip in the mattress vanished as he stood up, and Prompto heard some rustling that was probably Ignis putting a shirt on, and his footsteps heading towards the kitchenette.

Prompto spent a few more moments face down on the pillow, quietly wondering what he had done in this world to convince Ignis that he was a worthwhile endeavor.

Slowly, he dragged himself upright and to his feet and made his way to the kitchenette. As he passed the other bed, he spared it a glance. Noct was still an unmoving lump under the covers, nothing but a tuft of black hair sticking out from beneath the blanket. Beside him, Gladio was still face down on the bed, one arm hanging off the side of the mattress.

In the kitchenette, Prompto was glad to find that he hadn't also stumbled into a world where he could apparently cook, as 'help Ignis make breakfast' still translated to 'keep Ignis company while he makes breakfast.' Prompto leaned on the kitchenette divider, muffling a yawn behind one hand.

"It must have been quite the unusual dream," Ignis remarked, sorting through the small fridge.

"Gladio was a centaur," Prompto informed him blandly, because he couldn't just say 'I keep waking up in different worlds.' That would be weird. He grinned to himself when he saw Ignis cock his head to one side in bemusement. Plowing onwards, Prompto added, "He was chasing me across the slough, but he had a giant butter knife instead of a greatsword. And then you and Noct swooped in on a giant albatross to save me, except we all got eaten by a catoblepas."

There was a snort of laughter, neatly masked as Ignis cleared his throat behind one hand.

"That all seems rather unlikely," Ignis assured him wryly, standing at the stove and adding bacon to a pan. "Unless I'm misremembering, catoblepases are herbivores."

"You aren't arguing that Gladio wouldn't try to kill me," Prompto accused, eyes narrowing.

"You did spill orange juice all over his novel," Ignis reminded him.

"One time!" Prompto threw his hands up. "It happened one time!"

Despite that, once Gladio was woken up by the smell of bacon, he did not try to kill Prompto with a greatsword or a butter knife. Soon enough, all four of them were piled in the Regalia again without any incidents of attempted homicide.

The first half hour of driving was pretty standard business as usual, though Prompto kept sliding Ignis thoughtful glances.

Was there any harm in playing along? Probably not. Besides, he didn't want to wind up hurting this world's Ignis's feelings and ruining things for this world's Prompto. And it was all going to be gone once he went to sleep anyway. For him, at least.

He leaned over, nudging Ignis's arm with his elbow. Once he had Ignis's attention, Prompto brandished his hand expectantly. Ignis quirked one eyebrow but, unperturbed, Prompto just grinned and wiggled his fingers until Ignis let go of the wheel with one hand to thread their fingers together on the center console.

Behind them, Noct doubled over the side of the Regalia as he made overwrought gagging noises. At least until Ignis tapped the brakes, knocking all the air from Noct's lungs as he collided with the rear door.

"Oh, goodness," Ignis sighed. "Were you not wearing your seatbelt?" he wondered innocently. "I keep trying to tell you how dangerous that is."

Noct's sulk was almost audible and lasted until the Regalia was parked and all four of them were setting up camp.

Prompto waited until they were done eating, when Ignis was obstructed by nothing but his metal coffee cup, before he sat down on the ground in front of Ignis's chair, between the older man's knees.

He couldn't quite hold back a laugh when Ignis's response was to rest his coffee cup on top of Prompto's head.

"Uuuuuugh," Noct groaned, throwing a forearm across his eyes. "You guys are always so gross."

Prompto squirmed backwards, nestling his head against Ignis's thigh in retaliation, and Noct threw his hands up and retreated to his tent.

Maybe Prompto should've thought it was strange (he probably should've thought it was strange), but he also couldn't imagine a world where any of them would be interested in him for…him. Because really, what did he know about this world's Prompto and how he had apparently duped Ignis into thinking he was worth the time of day?

"What are you thinking about that has you looking so serious?" Ignis wondered, looking down at him with some concern.

"Kiss me?" Prompto requested, rather than actually answering. He’d never really been kissed before. Go big or go home, right?

"You'll have to sit up first," Ignis pointed out. "Even I'm not that flexible."

Prompto turned around and sat up on his knees, hands settling on Ignis's thighs as Ignis leaned down to meet him.

The kiss was…sweet.

Afterwards, Prompto settled back on the ground, folding his arms over one of Ignis's knees and resting his chin on them. Ignis's fingers carded through his hair as if it was habit.

Prompto didn't realize he had fallen asleep there until he was waking up somewhere else.

He couldn't even say where he woke up. It was just…light. One moment he was asleep, the next he was on his feet, yawning and stretching his arms over his head.

Electricity buzzed through his veins, and in the back of his mind he could hear a pressing murmur.

In front of him, Noct and Luna were whispering between each other, their foreheads pressed together. There was a trident strapped to Noct's back. Looking down, Prompto found his handguns holstered on his belt.

They were at the Disc of Cauthess. Ignis and Gentiana were standing within a handbreadth of him on either side, Ignis's knives strapped to his legs and his lance on his back. Gladio was nowhere to be found.

Circling them like prowling wolves, Ravus, Aranea, and a man in a 'Glaive uniform were all curiously unarmed.

"Shall we begin, then?" Ignis asked, sounding slightly unimpressed with the entire set up.

Finally, Noct and Luna looked at them, and Noct dragged a hand through his hair, the motion carrying through so he could pull the trident from his back. "May as well. Titan's a bit…"

"…of an asshole?" the 'Glaive supplied.

"A bit of an asshole, yeah," Noct agreed. "So everyone be ready."

In a familiar crackle of light, Luna, Ravus, Aranea, and the 'Glaive all pulled their weapons from thin air, and Prompto found himself furiously wondering what sort of world he had fallen into.

To his left, Gentiana looked as placid as ever. To his right, Ignis's hands curled around the hilts of his knives. Following his example, Prompto thumbed the latches of his holsters.

With a deep breath, Noct stepped up to the ledge before them, where the ground abruptly terminated and fell away.

A voice rumbled through the earth, like tectonic plates sliding together. Prompto, to his increasingly growing confusion, could understand it perfectly.

'Who is it who disturbs my vigil?'

Noct took a breath and his grip on the trident tightened. "Noctis, blood of the Oracle, here to bargain on behalf of the Chosen Queen of Queens. Will you hear what I need to say and enter into this Covenant, or am I shouting into the void?"

'A mortal, here to make demands of a god?' The ground rattled with unpleasant laughter.

"Trust me, it wouldn't be the first time," Noct drawled. "The Glacian, the Hydraean, and the Fulgurian have already granted me their Messengers and given their blessings to the Queen of Queens. Are you saying they're all smarter than you?" Prompto didn't need to see Noct's face to know he was grinning. "Or are you risking their wrath by saying the opposite?"

Ignis spoke then, but his voice was the voice of riptides and crashing waves and it was not his own. 'Choose your next words carefully, Archaean, for I am listening closely.'

"So?" Noct asked, in that same grinning tone. "What do you say?"

'Arrogant flesh hides bones that will break all too easily, and yet you dare speak so irreverently?'

Prompto's mouth opened not of his own accord. 'Titan!' he scolded, in a voice that was thunder over windswept plains. 'You have chosen many battles, Archaean, but this is a battle that you will not win.'

The rattling of the ground ceased for a moment, and then the earth settled as if in a sigh.

'So be it. To the blood of the Oracle, I grant my Messenger, and to the Chosen Queen of Queens I grant my blessing.'

The ground gave a lurch beneath them before finally stilling, and it gave the rather emphatic impression of an irritable dismissal.

Moments later, a hole opened up in the middle of the group. Prompto nearly leapt out of his skin. Even as an apparent demi-deity, that was evidently nothing worth commenting on.

Slowly, the familiar form of Gladio climbed out of the hole, his sword and his shield on his back.

In the span of a heartbeat, Ignis was brandishing his lance and the 'Glaive had his knives at the ready.

Gladio's eyebrows rose. "Really?" he asked, so unimpressed that Prompto was pretty sure the world went grayscale for a fraction of a second.

"Ignis," Noct scolded, at the same moment that Luna sighed, "Nyx."

With a great deal of reluctance and a not inconsiderable amount of grumbling, they backed down, and Gladio dropped to a knee in front of Noct, one arm across his chest in a salute.

"Gladiolus," he offered, "Messenger of the Archaean."

"Ah, yeah, I got that," Noct assured him. "Welcome to the caravan."

"You did just have a stand off with Titan," Gladio pointed out, his tone reasonable. "Figure I should cover all my bases and assume you might be slow."

"I will use this," Noct threatened, hefting the trident.

"Mmhm. That's nice." Gladio ruffled his hair like a puppy, and Prompto clamped his hands over his mouth before he could burst out laughing.

Jerking his head back and scowling, Noct protested, “I was respectful with Shiva and Ramuh.”

“And then he had enough firepower to risk being impatient,” Nyx supplied, cleaning his nails with one of his knives. Noct kicked a rock at him.

"Should we perhaps make our way back to the road?" Ravus suggested, with the long-suffering air of a man who had been forced to prevent many incidents since getting absorbed into the group.

It felt like an old habit, letting himself fracture at the edges like so much static cling. Prompto didn't even know it could be considered falling asleep, until he found himself waking up in the passenger seat of the Regalia.

He sat up with a jolt, the words, "We there yet?" falling out of his mouth, muffled as he yawned.

Ignis slid him the patented 'I have been driving for eight hours on six hours' worth of coffee' look and intoned, "If we were, you would not still be in the car, now would you?"

Prompto shrugged cheerfully. "Stranger things have happened."

There was a sigh from behind them before Gladio said, "Prom, stop tormenting Iggy."

"Who, me?" he asked, turning in his seat to bat his eyelashes at Gladio, innocent as a wee, newly hatched chocobo. Gladio's exasperated eye roll was tinged with more fondness than Prompto ever expected to get from Gladio.

Huh. Food for thought right there.

"Yes, you, the resident menace."

Prompto beamed and propped his chin up in his hands, elbows balanced on the back of the seat. "Aw, come on," he wheedled. "You know you love me."

"Unfortunately," came Gladio's deadpan response.

Prompto blinked at him. That probably answered the question of what sort of world he had landed in, at least.

He wasn't sure what his face was doing in that moment, but whatever it was, it had Gladio backpedaling.

"Prompto, I don't actually mean it's unfortunate--"

"Wha--? No, no, I know! Just…you know, nice to hear." That sounded reasonable, right? Yeah, probably.

Gladio sulked and slid down in the seat the minimal distance he could before his knees hit the back of the passenger seat. "I say it more often than that."

Noct snorted out a laugh, nearly giving all of them a series of heart attacks when it turned out that he wasn't asleep across three quarters of the backseat. Gladio walloped him over the head with a paperback.

"Respectfully, your highness, you don't get to be part of this conversation."

"I feel so disrespected," Noct sighed, rolling onto his back and flinging a forearm across his eyes.

"Probably just teen angst," Prompto assured him, grinning when Noct stuck his tongue out without bothering to uncover his eyes.

They didn't get a chance to form a proper argument about whether or not the prince was truly being disrespected or merely suffering a delayed onset of teen angst, as Ignis pulled the Regalia to a halt and cut the engine.

"Ah, finally," he sighed. "I can be rid of the lot of you." Prompto would never understand how Ignis managed to make that sound fond. Magic, maybe. Was that how elemancy worked?

Noct had already given himself away, so trying to pretend he was asleep to get carried to the house from the car was a mission doomed to failure, as Gladio all but kicked the prince out of the car.

Ignis and Noct made their way to the house, but Prompto had other plans. He made a beeline for the nearest shore, making it to one of the rocky ledges jutting over the water before he realized Gladio had followed him.

"Everything alright?" he asked, slinging an arm around Prompto's shoulders.

"Yeah, s'great," Prompto replied, distracted, as he lined up a shot of the moon turning the ocean into mercury. "Gotta stretch my legs after that long in the car, though. Besides, I'm not tired," he added as an afterthought. He turned, still peering through the camera, and on a whim he took a picture of Gladio, his profile outlined in moonlight.

He probably wouldn't get to keep them. He knew that. Still, he couldn't help himself. Whatever he had done in this world--however he had managed to worm his way into the stubborn Shield's heart--he wanted to enjoy it while it lasted.

Gladio looked at him enough to arch one eyebrow, his expression straddling a line somewhere between indulgent and exasperated. "That's what happens when you sleep for three quarters of the drive."

"I dunno, it never seems to do much to Noct," Prompto observed skeptically.

With a snort, Gladio pointed out, "Sleeping Beauty is an outlier and shouldn't be counted." He ruffled the back of Prompto's hair, grinning at the indignant squawk he got. "Now come on, before something crawls out of the ground to eat us."

"Oh, no," Prompto sighed, as he began wilting down Gladio's side, "my legs are suddenly broken. I can't go anywhere."

"I can fix that." Just like that, Prompto found himself being flung over Gladio's shoulder like a sack of potatoes. For the second time in as many minutes, Prompto found himself yelping in surprise, and his hands fisted in the back of Gladio's shirt.

"This is so not romantic!" he protested, his legs kicking as he squirmed back and forth.

"Right, sorry." Prompto had never actually heard an eye roll before, but he was pretty sure that was what one sounded like, shortly before he was flailing at the air as Gladio shifted him to a bridal carry. "Now maybe try shouting a little louder. You probably haven't woken Iris or Talcott up yet."

Prompto's tongue poked out as he blew a raspberry up at Gladio. He just managed to hold back a startled squeak when Gladio's response was to lean down and kiss him before setting him back on his feet.

"I'm serious, though," Gladio said, nudging Prompto forward with his elbow. "Tired or not, we should head in out of the dark."

With a sigh that was about four levels of melodramatic more than the situation called for, Prompto waved him forward with a flourish. "Fiiine, fine. Lead the way."

And lead the way Gladio did, for about three and a half seconds before Prompto ground to a halt again, staring at a rock.

"Hey. Hey, Gladdy, you see that?" he asked, pointing at it vaguely. "Under the rock."

"See what?" Gladio crouch down to peer under it.

With a valiant whoop, Prompto launched himself onto Gladio's back, arms wrapping around his neck and legs hitching around his middle. Gladio cocked his head to one side, as if to silently wonder 'why didn't I see that coming?' before he reached back to grab Prompto's thighs as he stood up--and holy shit Gladio was tall.

"How do you not get altitude sickness?" Prompto sulked, letting his chin plonk down on top of Gladio's head.

"Special Shield training," Gladio deadpanned as he resumed walking back to the house, where he set Prompto back on his feet on the front porch.

They were in the kitchen for a while, raiding the cupboards to put together a midnight snack as they debated about what food they would need to purchase, what they could probably hunt, and what they might be able to forage up at the Cape and at their next destination. Normal shop talk, really.

They migrated to the bedroom eventually, dropping themselves down on the couch. It was Gladio, without the benefit of an hours long car nap, who started yawning first.

"Seriously, go to bed." Prompto prodded Gladio's knee with his foot.

Instead, Gladio feigned an incredibly fake snore, slung and arm around Prompto, and dragged him down onto the couch cushions. Prompto squirmed for about fifteen seconds before realizing it was not a battle he was going to win.

It was warm, Prompto decided ten minutes later, more genuine snores humming against the back of his neck. Pretty comfortable, actually. He wouldn't have pegged Gladio as a snuggler, but he supposed he wouldn't have pegged Ignis as a snuggler, either.

It was pretty nice.

He snorted himself awake in a car, smooshed between two considerably larger people in the backseat, his butt numb from sitting on the hump. He could tell just from the sound of the engine that it wasn't the Regalia.

"Has our urchin woken up?" a godsawfully familiar voice wondered mildly, and Prompto opened his eyes to see Ardyn watching him from the rearview mirror. The car was red. Cor, looking rather displeased with his lot in life, was sitting to Prompto's left. Nyx, looking bored with the passing forestry, was sitting to his right.

It took a few long moments for Prompto to realize that the man dozing in the front passenger seat was King Regis, looking far older than Prompto had ever seen him, even just from the reflection in the windshield. Prompto didn't even realize he was staring until Nyx informed him tersely, "He's fine," one hand fisting against the car door. Prompto was willing to bet the Kingsglaive's words were not only meant to convince him.

While Prompto had no intentions to actually discuss the health of the king, it became a moot point when they lost any opportunity to begin with. King Regis woke up as if he had never been asleep, ordering stiffly, "Stop the car."

Cor slammed a hand over Prompto's chest to keep him on the seat as the car screamed to a halt, just in time to avoid crashing into the building-sized katana that speared into the road. The statue that wielded it followed half an instant later, cratering the road when it appeared and releasing a crackling shockwave that buffeted the car and made all the hair along Prompto's arms stand on end.

"Oh dear," Ardyn observed blandly. "He's awoken the Old Wall. A bit drastic, wouldn't you say?"

"Who--?"

Prompto didn't have time to finish the question, but he got an answer regardless when Noct's sword landed in the grass and then Noct himself followed it. His eyes were red and the Ring of the Lucii glowed around his finger.

King Regis was gone in an instant, his sword clashing with his son's. With a scoff, Ardyn disappeared just as quickly, only to be intercepted when Gladio surged out of the tree line, plowing into Ardyn shield first before his shield vanished, his sword taking its place.

Nyx at least had the good manners to need to manually grab his knives, but then he threw one of them and vanished, slamming into Gladio like a wrecking ball. Looking at Cor, Prompto asked, "Are we the only two who can't do that?"

"Unfortunately." With that said, Cor pushed Prompto down behind the passenger seat and commanded sharply, "Stay here," before he vaulted out of the car.

Prompto seriously missed his guns, as he poked his head up to watch through the windshield. Then again, he wasn’t sure he would actually be able to bring himself to shoot any of them. He was a softy that way.

Lunafreya charged out of the trees, her trident deflecting Cor's katana before it could get anywhere near Noct. Her eyes glowed like coals and her hair was lit with fire.

Ardyn and Nyx were still tag-teaming Gladio. Noct and the king were still locked together. But someone was missing.

"Ignis! Instructions?"

Never before had that phrase filled Prompto's chest with more dread.

A blade was hurled out of the woods, sinking into Cor's back between his shoulders, sending him toppling to the ground. It was followed in rapid succession by three more knives. One slammed into Nyx's shoulder with enough force to knock him to the grass. One sliced into Ardyn's ribs. One narrowly missed Noct's neck to instead sink into the king's chest.

"On your mark, Noct."

Like a moth after a lantern, Noct followed the trail. By the time his boots were back on the pavement, it looked less like a road and more like a slaughterhouse.

It was amazing, in a horrific sort of way, how much could happen in about forty-five seconds.

Noct shook his head, tossing his hair out of his face, and looked up at the statue, still kneeling. "Keep going," he commanded, lifting his sword to point into the distance with it. "I'll meet you there."

The statue dragged the katana from the impromptu sheath of pavement and stood, before it hurled the blade into the distance and vanished.

Somehow, after everything else, Ardyn staggered back to his feet, laughing. Finally, Ignis emerged from the trees, throwing his lance like a javelin and spearing it straight through Ardyn's chest. Gladio wrapped his hands around the lance's shaft and heaved his weight forward, sinking the lance through the broken pavement.

Ardyn seemed remarkably alright with being pinned like a butterfly. For a certain definition of 'alright,' at any rate. His eyes had turned into amber lights in sunken black pits and he was grinning, black sludge bleeding past pointed teeth.

"You know I'll be back," he crooned. "We've been over this, your majesty. Is it really worth this?"

Noct tapped his lip, feigning thoughtfulness before he decided, "You'll stop talking for a while, so yeah, I think it is."

With that, Luna set Ardyn ablaze with little more than a snap of her fingers.

"Guys, we missed one," Gladio observed, just to make things worse, his gaze locked on the car. Prompto tried to make the Gladio in front of him mesh with the Gladio who had given him a piggyback ride, and he couldn’t do it.

"Silly me," Luna purred, before she launched a firaga spell at the car.

The car tumbled away, and Prompto brought his arms up to cover his head as best he could. It didn't help very much when he flew clear of the car and hit the ground.

He woke up in a tent, tangled together with Noct, and Prompto furiously stomped down the thought of Noct with red eyes, soaked in his own father's blood.

It all seemed pretty standard, and once Prompto disentangled himself from the sleeping prince and crawled out of the tent, he was handed a bowl just like any other morning, by a Gladio who was thankfully not keen on imminent murder.

Prompto thought, for a few seconds, that he had landed in the world where Ignis instead didn't wear glasses, but then it just turned out that he was cleaning them with a napkin before he perched them above his nose once again.

Half the camp had already been packed back into the car, so Prompto sat on the ground as he ate, and when Noct emerged from the tent, he melted against Prompto's shoulder, which was also not really unusual.

It did seem a bit odd when Noct smacked his butt to get his attention as they trekked through the tall grass later, since that was typically Prompto's job, but it wasn't so odd.

Of course, it very rapidly turned into 'this is definitely something' when Noct slipped one hand into Prompto's back pocket and tugged him closer, until their hips bumped together. He kept his hand right where it was and offered, "It's getting cold," as an excuse.

"Not really," Prompto replied, but he slipped one arm around Noct's waist anyway, since it seemed like the thing to do because what even was his life anymore. When he inevitably pulled his camera out to get a picture, Noct turned his head to butt it affectionately against Prompto's neck.

Looking at the screen afterwards, he couldn't help but think it was a cute picture. He was sort of sad he wouldn't be able to keep it.

"What's wrong?" Noct had lifted his head and was watching Prompto's face intently.

"Huh?" Prompto let his camera drop to dangle by its strap.

"You look a bit down," Noct clarified, before reiterating, "What's wrong?"

"You are way prettier than me," Prompto spat out, because he had never been any good at lying to Noct and that wasn't a lie. But then Noct ground to a halt and pulled his hand out of Prompto's pocket, and he could've kicked himself.

All thoughts of kicking himself vanished when Noct grabbed him by the face and pulled him into a kiss that led to Prompto getting far more acquainted with his best friend's tongue than he ever expected.

Afterwards, staring into Prompto's incredibly dazed eyes, Noct stated fiercely, "You," only to pause and peck him on the lips once again, "are perfectly pretty. Stop that."

Prompto nodded slowly, strangling the urge to grin like a dopey idiot with some difficulty.

Satisfied with that pep talk, Noct caught the gunner's hand and broke into a jog before Ignis and Gladio got too far ahead.

Most of the afternoon after that was spent hunting a herd of spiracorns for a bounty, because they needed money to eat and put gas in the car. It wasn't an especially romantic evening, but Prompto did wind up with his arms around Noct to help him line up the perfect headshot at one point. They both knew Noct didn’t actually need the help.

Afterwards, with money in hand as they left the Crow's Nest, Noct apparently had plans on how he wanted the drive that night to go.

"Gladio can live with a little less leg room for a few hours," he decided as he urged Prompto into the backseat of the Regalia with him.

"If I catch any canoodling going on back there, I will throw you both out onto the side of the road for the daemons," Ignis cautioned from the driver's seat as he adjusted the mirrors.

"No one here's a voyeur, Specs," Noct assured him, before he toppled over sideways, his head landing on Prompto's lap. "Wake me up when we get there." With that, he closed his eyes.

"I'm a pillow," Prompto observed intelligently, blinking down at Noct.

"You should be used to it by now," Gladio replied, as he got comfortable in the front seat.

It took a few minutes for Prompto to work up the nerve to start petting Noct's hair. Confirming every single one of his suspicions, Noct's hair turned out to be almost obnoxiously soft.

Eventually, as clouds began to gather ahead of them, Ignis put the Regalia's top back up, and Prompto leaned against the window. He could feel himself reluctantly nodding off, until a groggy, "Hey, Prom?" jerked him back to wakefulness.

He looked down at his lap to see Noct looking up at him with one bleary eye.

"Tell me you love me."

It was a simple request, as if it was made near nightly.

…Go big or go home, right? And Prompto already knew he'd be going home soon, sort of.

"Of course I love you."

Also not a lie, though he was generally pretty sure he meant it differently. Pretty sure, at least.

Noct smiled sleepily and closed his eye again, and Prompto slumped against the window.

It wasn't fair. It was not fair, and he wanted to go home. He pouted fitfully until he finally dozed off against the window.

He woke up in the tent, a rock under his back. Ignis was out of the tent already and Noct had splayed out to take over his advisor's abandoned space.

As Prompto blinked up at the canvas of the tent, Gladio began to stir. "Morning," he grumbled, dragging a hand through his hair and cringing when it snagged.

"G'morning," Prompto sighed.

"Any signs of life from Sleeping Beauty?"

"What do you think?"

Gladio snorted. "Yeah, I figured." He kicked the sleeping bag open and crawled out of the tent.

After staring at the ceiling of the tent for a few more minutes, Prompto followed him.

Everything seemed…pretty normal. Eventually Noct fell out of the tent, and everything still seemed pretty normal. Everyone had the right colored eyes. Ignis was wearing glasses. No one seemed to be some sort of deity. There was no sign of Ardyn, the king, Lunafreya, or extraneous members of the Crownsguard or Kingsglaive. No one was murdering anyone, with or without gigantic statues. The only chocobos were their rentals, grazing below the haven.

And then Noct tumbled into a chair, caught Prompto around the middle as he paced absentmindedly, and tugged him down to sit on the prince's lap.

"Blanket's back in the tent," he offered as an excuse, before he turned his head to muffle a yawn against his shoulder.

Ignis and Gladio didn't seem to find it worth commenting on. Like it was normal for Noct to casually use Prompto as a teddy bear.

…Had Prompto managed to wake up in the same world twice in a row?

"You seem kinda tense," Noct observed eventually.

"Weird night," Prompto answered automatically. Still, technically, not a lie. Though at that point he was pretty sure he could just say 'weird week' and it would be the truth.

Gladio groaned. "Great. Now they're both having nightmares."

"It wasn't a nightmare!" Prompto protested. "It was just weird. There were so many chocobos, and Gladio was being romantic, and Noct was in the car for more than five minutes without falling asleep."

Noct head butted the back of Prompto's head in protest, just as Gladio scoffed, "I'm plenty romantic."

Ignis coughed delicately against one fist to mask an incredulous laugh.

Eyes narrowing sharply, Gladio threatened, "I'm throwing out all your coffee."

"Then I'm sleeping with Noct and Prompto tonight," Ignis returned without missing a beat before he lifted his mug to take a sip.

Prompto was confused.

He remained confused as he helped clean up the campsite, and as they rode the chocobos back to Wiz's place to collect the bounty for whatever they had apparently hunted the night before. (Why were there mindflayers in the woods? How did that make any sense? Did chocobos have particularly flayable minds?)

They ordered lunch, and they all cooed over the black chocobo chick for a bit while they waited for their food. He snuck a picture of Ignis petting her when he thought no one was looking, and managed to much-less-sneakily take a picture of Noct snuggling her. (She sort of disappeared against his coat, but the picture was a keeper anyway.)

Noct deposited himself on Gladio's lap when their food showed up, and the pieces started to fit together a bit more after that.

They ran a few errands for Wiz afterwards, and Ignis tossed his jacket over Prompto's shoulders as night rolled in on the ride back, the heat of the day ebbing and making it apparent that Prompto did not actually have sleeves.

When they took over the caravan for the night, Noct managed to wrangle himself, Prompto, and Ignis onto one bunk despite the bunks being too small for two people (and despite Gladio not actually throwing out any coffee). At least until Prompto fell off the bunk.

He wound up sharing a bunk with Gladio, his head pillowed on one unfairly large bicep. He was comfortable. Where he was at that specific moment, and with all four of them being a thing.

"Hey, guys?" he tried eventually, because he could still hear Noct playing on his phone. He slipped the ring off of his finger and held it up to look at it through the dim light coming through the window. "We should probably tell Dino to maybe not put this one into production."

"Is it a dud?" Gladio wondered sleepily.

"Uh--yeah," Prompto answered. "Yeah, we'll go with that."

#Final Fantasy XV fanfic #FFXV fanfic #prompto argentum #Chocobros #noctis lucis caelum #ignis scentia #gladiolus amicitia #ardyn izunia #If the Ring Fits

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xbooksandclevernessx · 8 years ago

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There's no denying that there are some things we don't like to have a light shone upon within society and that the darkest and most grittiest dystopian books show are those that hit closest to home. That's part of what makes Neal Shusterman's hit Unwind such a success, and what makes it keep you up long into the night.

The book uses the point of view from as many people as it needs, and shows the struggle of 3 young teenagers struggling to survive in a society that has given up on them and their generation a long time ago. Shusterman sheds light onto the darkest part of his future society in a way that sheds light onto our own societal faults, and overall causes you to spend hours of your life trying to convince yourself that you are different than the society he painted, and failing time and time again. With interesting characters that you learn to love, realistic world-building, and horrific moments that make you want to look away if you weren't so fascinated, I'd have to rate this book the full five stars.

★★★★★

The book covers the lives and struggles of the 3 teenagers Connor, Risa, and Lev attempting to stay alive and live their lives within a society that wants them dead. It is the future, and things within the pro-life/pro-choice movements reached an all-time high. After a war broke out, a solution for peace was created, and life has moved perfectly ever since. The government decided that from the moment of conception, life becomes invaluable, yet between the ages of 13 and 18, the parents can choose to have their child unwound. To unwind a child is not to kill them per se, but to take them apart piece by piece and give each bit of them to someone else who needs it. The child doesn't die, therefore it is not classed as murder, and it is a common part of society.

Connor Lassiter is a 16-year-old trouble child that gets bad grades and makes things hard on his parents. That doesn't mean he doesn't love them and try, so when he finds the unwind order in their room, he feels his heart break and realizes he has no other option than to run.

Risa Ward is a ward of the state, and is no longer valuable enough to be kept alive. Having never been adopted, and her piano skills not being considered good enough, she's shipped off to hopefully attribute to a new future genius.

Lev Calder is the tenth child in his family and is labeled as a tithe. Tithes are religious unwindings, in which a child is raised knowing that when they turn 13, they will be sent off to be unwound and hopefully help make a difference in the world.

Things change in these children's lives when Connor makes a break, stealing Lev along as to serve as cover for him. Risa, noticing the commotion, uses it to mask her own escape. Slowly the 3 of them band together as unlikely allies, discovering the truth about society and simply attempting to survive for just a day longer. Along the way they meet a deadly threat with a shark tattoo, an old lady with a crate full of letters, and an old war veteran with more secrets than truths. Together they run towards the infamous airplane graveyard that's supposed to harbor unwinds and change their own life views on the way.

The plot is exceptional, and the characters you meet along the way stay with you and change you forever. The descriptions given of the same thing by multiple characters, or the moments you delve into things you never would have imagined, change your views on life. When I hear someone discuss excellent writing or a scene that changed their life, I do, and always will think of the moment that you get to witness the unwinding process through the eyes of the subject. I will never forget my emotions the first time I read it, and the descriptions of slowly losing your being until you truly are nothing more than a million pieces and have almost no memory of who you once were. I think that by far changed my view on fiction, writting, and really the world itself.

ALSO, THE AMAZING PEOPLE AT MAINSTAY PRO REMADE THAT ICONIC SCENE WITH A DIFFERENT CHARACTER, AND IT IS BRILLIANT. IF YOU'RE INTERESTED IN THE BOOK, I'D SUGGEST WATCHING IT.

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If you're looking for a book that won't just be a light read, but a book that truly encaptures your mind and your soul, then this is the book for you. It makes you think, drives you into the story, and shows you the aspects of real life people often try to ignore. Shusterman dives deep into the world, creating clippings from the unwind bill and excerpts from pro-unwinding pamphlets, but the real thing he does to bring it to life is list things that have already been published in this world prior to this book, such as the eBay selling of a soul.

Everything that happens in the novel is physically possible in today’s world, and that is only half of the scary part of this novel. The other part has to do with society. There are novels you can get where you look at society and can distance yourself, look at the people and think "I would never act like that." A good example would be the people of the Capital in the Hunger Games. In Unwind, there is no difference between us and the society. For while we may think it disgusting after reading the book, you'll find far too many similarities in the writing. Even the main characters saw nothing wrong with it until it happened to them.

Words can change the world, and this is definitely one of those books I see causing a societal change. I'd recommend everyone read this book at least once in their life, it really is a game changer.

#review #unwind #neal shusterman

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stevishabitat · 5 years ago

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Gooey butter cake, toasted ravioli, and provel cheese topped thin-crust pizza are all St. Louis food staples; but they don’t share the same complicated relationship that has been carved into the local Black community with St. Louis-style Chinese food. Due to the peculiar proximity of the Chinese restaurants that produce the specialty dishes, along with a lack of beneficial community involvement, their positions remain questionable.

Recently, a few short minutes after exiting on to highway I-70 west heading towards Columbia, MO, I received a text. “Bring some Chinamen back plz!!” A cardinal sin avoided. Any self-respecting St. Louisan knows if you’re heading out of town to meet any former residents, you’d better have a brown paper bag in-hand carrying orders of Chinese food you can only get in this region. Just as a visit to Chicago would make for a Garrett’s Chicago-style popcorn request, same with barbeque in Kansas City, St. Louis-style Chinese cuisine is one of a kind.

The rice is always fried, enhanced with premium dark soy sauce (and MSG?), scrambled egg, no peas and carrots (maybe bean sprouts or green onions), with the meat of your choice. As simple as the ingredients may sound, the flavor, color, and texture has yet to be duplicated in any other location. STL transplants living in San Diego to Tallahassee will tell you how disappointed they are after ordering fried rice in other cities, only to be served flavorless yellow steamed-rice packed with veggies. As little Tootie cried out in Meet Me in St. Louis (1944), “…you can’t do any of the things like you could do in St. Louis”.

Annoyed at having to restart my trip, I begrudgingly turned around back east towards St. Louis city, and exited off early onto Airport Road. It was my first time at this particular Chinese restaurant; Canton House Chop Suey, tucked in a tiny rundown strip mall in Berkeley, MO. (Within minutes from the historic African American city of Kinloch and the now infamous Ferguson) The delivery of this order out-of-town will have to come with a disclaimer: it was purchased from St. Louis County and not the city.

See, authentic St.Louis-style rice is found deep in the inner-cities of predominantly black communities. The establishments are usually a shanty building that blends in with the dilapidated structures that make up these blighted neighborhoods. The aesthetics aren’t a deterrent at all, and rumors about health inspection violations don’t seem to matter much either to the locals. This is due to the limited choices of fast food in these areas for starters, but more so the Chinese food has built a trust for always being delectably on point while not changing much over the years. The same fairly cheap menu has little variation no matter what side of town you’re on. Along with your usual half or whole order of fried rice stuffed tight in a takeout box, another go-to menu item unique to St. Louis is the St. Paul sandwich. The sandwich is a deep fried egg foo young patty, served with onions, pickles, mayonnaise, and a variety of meats on good ol’ white bread.

Over the years, new menu items have slowly been added to fit the Midwestern palate like chicken wings, cheese fries, and catfish with pickles and onions, and of course the locally produced Vess soda to wash it all down is a must. Ironically (or not), you’d be hard-pressed to find any of these menu items mentioned including everyone’s favorite side; crab rangoon, anywhere in the actual continent of Asia. This is unabashedly Chinese American cuisine in the heart of the American ghetto.

There is a clear distinction from the Chinese food you get in the mall food court or sit-down restaurants in the West County suburbs, versus inner-city establishments that the local Black people call “Chinamens.” The term “chinamen” is the St. Louis lazy-tongue version of “China Man.” It is believed to have American origins starting in the California Gold Rush in 1849, where thousands of Chinese men immigrated to the United States seeking opportunity and wealth. These hard working individuals would fill up mining and railroad jobs that displaced a lot of European American workers and some Black workers as well. “Chinaman” became a term to describe these misunderstood immigrants who were now seen as a threat. Discriminatory legislation was later enacted and they would have homes and businesses looted and burned to the ground.

The term seemed to get a new life in 1970’s slang, as is reflected in numerous Blaxploitation films of the time, depicting stereotypical opium dealing, Kung Fu skilled, drug lords called “Chinaman.” And for some reason in St. Louis, the term has stuck around like an ugly scar.

Make no mistake about, the slang in which local St. Louisans describe our unique Chinese food is offensive. After decades of use, it has become commonplace and we would fool ourselves to think that something so embedded in the culture would change overnight. However, it’s safe to say in recent times there has been more of an awareness and consciousness that the usage should be substituted. Just across the bridge in East St. Louis, Illinois, they use the expression “The Rice House” in place of the derogatory term used on the west side of the river. Black people should be especially more cognizant of the harmful effects of racial slurs given our own history. Because the outcry may not be as loud, that isn’t an excuse not to do better.

Change is needed on both sides of the Asian and African American communities. In his 1994 book, Margins and Mainstreams: Asians in American History and Culture, Gary Okihiro wrote in part: “We are a kindred people, African and Asian Americans. We share a history of oppression in the United States, successively serving as slaves and cheap labor, as peoples excluded and absorbed, as victims of mob rule and Jim Crow. We share a history of struggle for freedom and the democratization of America, of demands for equality and human dignity, of insistence on making real the promise that all men and women are created equal. We are a kindred people, forged in the fire of white supremacy and struggle….”

Even given the similarities in our struggles and history of commerce, the disconnect between Black and Asian Americans has persisted for years. This sentiment is practically palpable in acts as simple as the ordering of your food, as these exchanges are completed through metal bars and bulletproof glass. There is a mutual distrust on both sides of the glass; these Chinese merchants have a heightened level of fear operating their businesses in these high-crime neighborhoods. But to exhibit these fears through accusatory means like following Black customers around the store among other things, is unapologetically prejudice and insulting. Black people have long held on to stereotypes about these Chinese merchants as well, the likening of meat options on menus served to the killing of domestic cats and dogs has been around for ages.

The proverbial tug-of-war isn’t a new issue at all. The struggle was masterfully personified in explicit fashion by rap artist Ice Cube in his 1991 track titled “Black Korea,” from his classic Death Certificate album. He raps “So pay respect to the black fist / Or we’ll burn your store right down to a crisp / And then we’ll see ya / ’Cause you can’t turn the ghetto… into Black Korea.”

Inspiration for the song came months earlier with the brutal murder of a Black 15 year old girl by the name of Latasha Harlins; that was killed by Korean-American Soon Ja Du, who was the wife of the owner of Empire Liquor Market in South Central L.A. That Saturday morning Latasha went to the store and picked up a $1.79 orange juice, placed it in the top of her backpack still visible, and walked to the counter money in-hand. Soon Ja Du then falsely accuses Latasha of theft and attempts to rip her backpack off causing a scuffle. Latasha picks up the now fallen orange juice and places it on the counter. She then attempts to walk out of the store but is shot in the back of the head by Soon Ja Du. Du was initially charged with first degree murder but is found guilty of involuntary manslaughter. However, Du received probation and never served a single day in prison.

Twenty-five years later a local 13 year old Black girl residing in Bellefontaine Neighbors (St. Louis County), returns to Korean owned King’s Beauty Supply for a third time that day. The shop was being occupied by the store owner’s parents, an elderly Korean couple in their 70s. According to police reports the girl was at the shop earlier with a friend trying to steal hair extensions and they both were kicked out after being warned not to return. The second visit resulted in the police being called and a formal warning for trespassing was given. The 13 year old girl returned alone on the final visit, this time armed with a revolver which she used to shoot both store keepers. Fortunately, the couple would survive the shooting.

Urban cities across America similarly have this unique dynamic of Asian merchants, often times immigrants, setting up a place a business that specifically caters to African Americans in that particular community. Why would someone not of the area open a shop in these severely blighted neighborhoods? The true motivation is unclear, but the cheap land and consistent consumers is definitely a benefit for an immigrant starting with meager means. Limited English may be a factor, along with a self-sustaining system of employing workers of kinship and assisting family that remain overseas. Regardless of the reasons for establishing the businesses, when it comes to Chinese restaurants in St. Louis city — the food is made for Black people. If you’re lucky enough to peer behind metal bars and catch the workers of one of these restaurants on break, you’ll most likely see them enjoying a small serving of plain white rice instead of a greasy box filled with the local favorites. Health consciousness is important and how poverty affects unhealthy food choices is well documented, but the taste and fancy for St. Louis style rice transcends economic status.

That is why no matter the patron; your concern should be that your dollars are contributing to the support of possible parasitic business models. Are these Chinese restaurants nestled in the most deteriorated neighborhoods operating as a cocoon, that are built with security from the harsh environment, but benefiting only those inside and ones spawned from its structure?

There should be more pressure applied from Black city officials to strengthen an alliance and demand a beneficial relationship with the Asian and African Americans communities, or these deteriorated localities will continue to only serve as a host.

Further out in north St. Louis County you veer away from the traditional city taste, with possible lighter rice and quirky menu options like cheeseburger egg rolls and Philly cheese steak wonton like found at The Rice House in Florissant, MO. However, you may be greeted by a young Black local taking your fried rice order which is a far cry from other establishments in the St. Louis metro area. Due to the prejudices and segregated demographics that still exist within the city limits, it may be quite a stretch to expect to see hiring ads for the neighborhood chop suey joint. Although, working side by side as they started to do on railroads in the 1800’s would go a long way in building quality relationships.

A more reasonable expectation for the restaurant owners would be to at least participate in community outreach programs and events that look to better the community as a whole. St. Louis-style Chinese rice is a flavor of Black food culture in the region; we were raised on it and have grown up with the taste. On the other side, Asian Americans have grown on it as well, but their families have moved further out supporting their children through college and setting up residency in greener pastures. The same power that Black people have to allow business establishments to cater product solely to our wants should be used to order those whom serve us, to in turn serve the community just the same.

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