#having owain thoughts while i space out doing some readings

[sieglinde-freud]

wish intsys did a little more owain and his brand cuz as far as i remember, and i could be very wrong its been a while since i last binged supports/dlc dialogue, but it’s mostly used for lissa and ophelia’s characters rather than his own which definitely makes sense for owain’s purpose as a comic relief character, but i wish it did more for him as a person. specifically the fact that he loses it as odin, and while i think that you could say he was sad about it, which i think he probably was, i think he was probably more relieved in a sense? not in a “FUCK the brand of the exalt i HATE it” kind of way obviously, but in a “i’m finally free from the expectations from my heritage” kind of way you know? cuz he does admit to having feelings of inferiority and in adequacy to chrom and lucina, which he probably wouldnt feel as much if he wasnt connected to them by blood. i feel like, for him, his brand could be both a symbol of pride but also ineptitude. and once he’s in a world without lucina and chrom and without the mark on his arm (???? i think) he might feel a little more free.

[vanserraseris]

END OF PART III - Ruchi can I just say that your comments give me life. We get to see a little bit of Helion here because I couldn’t just not have him make an appearance. Thanks to everyone who’s reading :)

tysm this fic gives me life and AYYYYY HELION

Prince of Ashes. Part III.

masterlist.

Eris was tired, and irritated, and annoyed. He had no patience for the aristocrats in the ballroom of the Dawn Court. Most everyone bothered him and he was growing more and more frustrated that his father had thought it was a good idea to bring Lucien, still a toddler, to a political event. There was only one faerie in the Dawn Court that he could even stand, and she wasn’t even at this cauldron-forsaken gathering.

Lucien wriggled in his arms, and Eris tried to rub soothing circles on the cranky toddler’s back. Lucien just rubbed his face on the expensive fabric of Eris’s dark red tunic, sniffling. Lucien’s small, chubby fingers tightened their hold on Eris’s sleeve, “I want home,” he mumbled. Eris moved further away from the ball room, the sound of his brown, knee-length boots hitting the marble floors echoing in the hallway.

“Me too, fox,” he grumbled. Eris didn’t know when the nickname had stuck, but Lucien seemed to like it. Eris decided he would just wander the halls of the palace until Lucien fell asleep. He silently cursed his father for thinking that bringing Lucien would benefit them in any way. Eris had been left with tutors and nannies and servants to look after him at Lucien’s age, and he figured that perhaps Beron simply wanted to keep Eris busy while he tried to arrange another marriage for him.

Rufus had grown tired of trying to entertain Lucien, and had handed him off to Priam, who silently handed him to Maddox, who simply scowled and handed him off to Owain, who didn’t have a clue what to do with a child as little as Lucien and knew better than to give him to Cato. While Eris had been glad for the opportunity to stop talking with the eldest son of the High Lord of Spring, who was dreadfully boring, Lucien had been in a terrible mood.

Eris could have laughed at the panicked expression on Owain’s face, his short red hair a mess as it usually was and his brown eyes wide with fear as he had placed Lucien in Eris’s outstretched arms. A warrior in every sense of the word, Owain was huge and hulking and had never lost a fight, but the fear in his eyes as he awkwardly held onto a crying Lucien was amusing. Eris turned another corner, slamming right into a faerie.

Just his luck that Lucien was finally quiet that he’d run into someone. At Lucien’s little whine, Eris growled, “Watch it.” He looked down at Lucien who’d begun crying again in earnest. 

“Apologies, Eris.” 

Eris looked away from the still-crying Lucien and met the amber eyes of Helion Spell-Cleaver. Helion was wearing one of his bolts of fabric, this one a dark blue with gold detailing along the edges. Helion smiled at Eris, his handsome face seemed to glow with an other-worldly light.

“Didn’t know we were on such familiar terms,” Eris said with a scowl. He’d obviously met Helion before, but the heir of Day seemed to want to avoid him at all costs. Not that Eris cared too much, he rather preferred that no one speak to him at court functions. Eris also thought he remembered being a youngling and having Helion wink at him as he hid behind his mother’s skirts, probably just a figment of his imagination but it was one of the better things he remembered from his childhood.

Eris tried hushing Lucien. If they had been at The Forest House, Eris would have simply made some foxes out of fire and had them run around Lucien to get him laughing again. “Cauldron boil me,” Eris breathed as Lucien began crying louder at Eris’s horrible attempts to get him to stop. 

“Try bouncing him,” Helion offered. Eris never really listened to anyone’s good advice. 

“Try leaving me alone,” Eris snapped, making to walk past Helion. 

“Works wonders.”

Eris sneered, “Did you read that in one of your library books?” 

Helion laughed, a reaction Eris hadn’t been expecting, “Yes.” It was a deep and rumbling laugh, his eyes crinkling in the corners from joy. Eris didn’t know what he’d said that was so funny. 

Eris scowled again, feeling his ears heat as he awkwardly bounced Lucien. He felt like a fool, but he’d do just about anything to get Lucien to stop crying. 

Helion raised his dark brows when Lucien’s cries got louder.

Eris frowned, slowly bouncing Lucien as Helion watched. It didn’t seem to be working. “Come now, fox,” Eris started, his tone soft. Eris wasn’t very good at being comforting or affectionate and he didn’t want to start humming a lullaby. His mother was much better at singing children to sleep and Eris would rather drown than have to give a strange, out of tune, humming performance in front of Helion Spell-Cleaver.

“Please stop crying,” he murmured, kissing the crown of Lucien’s head, choosing to pretend Helion wasn’t even there. Eris thanked the Mother when Lucien shifted in his grip and pressed his face in the crook of Eris’s neck. With a small sniffle and a contented sounding little sigh, Lucien had stopped crying. 

“Handsome little thing,” Helion said, and when Eris looked at him, he was surprised to see the longing on his face — the pain.

Helion’s amber eyes were fixed on Lucien, and Eris felt that an emotion so raw wasn’t really meant for his eyes. 

“Takes after his brothers.” 

Both Helion and Eris jumped at the sound of Rufus’s voice. He’d somehow managed to sneak up right by Eris’s elbow without either of them having noticed. Maddox was at his side, looking for all the world as though he’d rather be anywhere else.

At least Rufus looked like he was enjoying himself, but as the sixth son it made sense that he wasn’t too troubled with appearances and expectations. Rufus dipped his chin at Helion and placed a hand on Eris’s shoulder, “We were wondering where you’d gone off to.” He flashed Helion a courtier's grin, “Excuse us.” 

“Be well, Eris, Rufus, Maddox,” with a charming smile and one last look at Lucien, Helion turned on his heel and walked down the hall.

Eris turned to face his brothers, raising an auburn brow. Maddox was scowling, like he usually was, he ran a hand through his short hair, “You can’t just disappear, one of us is bound to follow you.” Eris made a vague gesture with his hand, the other still holding onto Lucien. He briefly wondered how Helion knew all of their names, sometimes courtiers from Autumn confused who the younger ones of Beron’s sons were.

“Why were you talking to the heir of Day?” Rufus questioned as they continued down the hall. His shoulder length hair had been brushed and pushed out of his handsome face, all the golden hoops on his ears catching on the light streaming in through the windows. He and Eris could have been identical were it not for the darker shade of Rufus’s eyes and the freckles that scattered his younger brother’s nose and cheeks.

Maddox wrinkled his nose, he looked more like their father, slender-faced and brown-eyed. “I wouldn't talk to him, he causes half the scandals in Prythian.” After a short pause, he added, “You know, I think I’d heard Lady Spring was having an affair with him.” 

“Good for her,” Eris hadn’t heard that one. 

“Rumours, I’m sure,” Rufus waved a hand dismissively, “They say the strangest things about Eris, too. Were you aware that you picked your teeth with the bones of your dead enemies, brother?”

Maddox smiled for a moment, “I’d heard a rumour about Eris having talons instead of fingers.” 

“Hells, the gossip amongst the High Fae keeps getting stranger,” Eris mumbled, one of his very normal hands raking through Lucien’s short red hair. He hoped no other rumours had made their way to the ears of Autumn Court officials. 

They’d reached the grand, gilded archway that led right back into the enormous ballroom. Rufus held out his arm in front of him with a flourish, “Heir goes first.”

Maddox rolled his eyes, walking past Eris, scowl firmly in place once more as he walked towards Owain. Eris walked into the large space next, eyes spotting his mother and father on the opposite end of the room. He nearly shuddered to think that he’d have to be the one talking politics with faeries he didn’t like when he became High Lord. He noticed that his mother didn’t look very happy, an ancient sadness in her eyes as she looked to the floor.

She looked up for a moment, her eyes widening slightly before she averted her gaze from whatever she’d spotted. 

Eris just walked to one of the chairs along the walls of the ballroom, Lucien still comfortable in his arms. He briefly noticed Priam talking to the new High Lord of the Dawn Court, and turned to remark on the hand Thesan had placed on Priam’s shoulder to Rufus. Rufus hadn’t followed him and had probably gone off somewhere with a pretty female.

With a small sigh, he sat, content to just watch everyone as his brother slept in his arms. Eris bit the inside of his cheek, eyes squinted slightly as Priam leaned closer to Thesan. He wondered what they were saying, a rare smile on Priam’s face as the new High Lord spoke to him. Eris watched as Priam bowed just slightly at the waist, his face neutral once more. Thesan made his way to speak with the High Lord of the Night Court, Priam grabbing three drinks from a nearby table, downing the one.

Eris hoped he hadn’t been doing that all evening. When Priam locked eyes with Eris from the other side of the crowded room, Eris raised his brow in question. Priam turned a frightening shade of red, the flush creeping up his neck, on his cheeks, all the way up to the tips of his pointed ears. Eris wasn’t too surprised to see Priam walking towards him, remembering how Priam would sit next to him at court functions when he had been a youngling.

“Finally asleep?” Priam elegantly sat down in the chair beside Eris, handing him one of the drinks he had in his hand. Priam was usually very quiet, hardly ever talking to anyone but Maddox. 

Eris nodded in response, looking at Priam. His long hair was tied at the base of his neck, his handsome face expressionless as he looked at the faeries dancing around the room.

Priam’s russett eyes met Eris’s amber ones, “Not planning on having some of your own any time soon?” Eris felt like Priam was trying to hide something by asking all these questions, but he wasn’t too worried about it, and definitely not worried enough to ask him at a public gathering. 

Eris smiled at his brother, not like they were close, but at least him and Priam were never actively trying to kill each other, “Maybe in a thousand years.”

“Shame,” Priam said in that quiet, cold voice of his, “I think you wouldn't be half bad at raising decent children.” 

Eris furrowed his brows, raising his glass just slightly in Priam’s direction before he took a sip of the smooth, light pink drink. Eris couldn’t help looking at Lucien asleep in his arms, remembering the vow he’d sworn to protect him, and hoping that Priam was right.

[thepromisedbride]

HELLO JESS. BBC GHOSTS ARTHURIAN AU GO (by which I mean the arthurian characters in the premise of BBC ghosts, not the other way around)

REY oh my god i love you for this here we go

So in Ghosts the alive characters are a married couple, right?? Wrong!! Well, not wrong, because yes that’s exactly what Mike and Alison are. But wrong for this version because though I seriously considered having one of the couples as the main characters I then thought “hey what’s more fun than a family!!” and luckily for us (me) we have a ready made family in the form of (drumroll please) The Orkneys!!

The rest is under a read more because I got what some might call “carried away” and others might call “obsessed”

What happens is this: as the Orkney brothers grow up, they rather naturally become separated, until at last Gareth is the last one, at seventeen, living with their mother. Their father (or at least, their supposed father: they all know that Mordred looked too dissimilar to Lot to really be his son, though they never said it) died a while ago, and Morgause could not find it in her to really focus on her children over her job.

The five of them seem to unspokenly care about each other, but in a way where it was clear that they were all waiting to be contacted first.

Nonetheless, when Morgause does die, with Gareth having just turned eighteen and seriously wondering why he had taken a gap year from university, they all show up, and find that they had jointly been bequeathed the old family house in the country.

Gawain has been recently promoted and is now working from home. This meant more time than he usually spent inside his flat, and he had been getting rather claustrophobic. So, after an admittedly short heart to heart with Gareth, who was looking quite nervously towards a future without parents and with no idea what to do, he packs up his brothers in a typically Gawain-like fashion and moves them all out to the manor.

Mordred has been able to see ghosts since an incident in his youth involving a large body of water, an ill-timed trip and a sudden storm. He hasn’t been in water since, but the near-death experience left his with the ability to see those spirits left when their bodies had departed. This is especially unfortunate for him, because half the time he doesn’t particularly want to be able to see living people, let alone ghosts who do not leave when he throws things at them. But he puts up with it enough: there is, beyond all logic, a particular cup he took from Morgause’s house when he left which somehow has three ghosts attached to it, and they happily provide a deterrent for any others.

(It does create a somewhat awkward car journey: he’s being driven by Agravaine, and between the boxes in the back and the only two seats in the front, there’s not much room even for a ghost. Aggs keeps looking at him weirdly when he fidgets, but it’s not his fault that the only free place left is his lap or that Galahad decided that he simply had to see the journey to the house rather than simply confining himself to the cup like Bors and Percival did.)

Anyway, this means that he arrives at the house and immediately sees a crowd of variously costumed figures and tries turning around and leaving. Unfortunately Agravaine anticipates some “young adult hormones” and quickly steers him straight inside.

It takes him a while to finally be alone with the ghosts, who seem to quickly realise he can see them. There are eleven of them in total, though a couple seem to spend most of their time in the little gatekeeper house rather than the main building. He immediately makes a note to avoid Dinadan, who looks at Mordred once and immediately makes fun of his choice in band t-shirts (and like, he’s a ghost, what does he know about bands, it’s like trying to talk to Gaheris—) and Lamorak is instantly relegated to Mordred’s extensive “least liked people” list, which is different to his “disliked people” list. Kay seems kind of mean, which is funny, and Bedivere is responsible enough to try and control the others, but they are clearly “not dating” which honestly Mordred has no time for.

He gets on best with Clarissant, probably, as she’s smart and not too grating but still sweet enough that she likes sitting with him when he wants to be quiet but doesn’t want to be alone. Owain, likewise, has shown him several spaces in the garden for birdwatching or other wildlife (which Mordred doesn’t particularly have used for, but he does appreciate the effort).

Owain is “not dating” a different ghost, Laudine, but in a different way than Kay and Bedivere are “not dating”, in a way that doesn’t get on Mordred’s nerves and lets him acknowledge that Laudine is kind of funny. Elaine doesn’t really talk to him: there’s a river and lake by the house and she seems to prefer it there, or else by the old tower. But she has great stories, and never minds when he really needs a vent, usually about his brothers.

It’s Palamedes and Brangaine who live (in the loosest sense of the word) in the gatekeeper’s cottage. This is very useful, because it means he can set up a little bedroom inside, though it’s mostly for storage now, and sleep there when he wants to pretend he has his own space. He has a strange nervousness that they might see him as a sort of pet, but he’s pretty sure that’s not the case.

Relatively sure.

Not that it matters. They have a clearly delicate history together, one Mordred is not about to ask after for fear that one or both will start crying, but they manage in a sort of sweet domesticity. He’s left the goblet in there for now, because Palamedes seems to enjoy Galahad, Bors and Percival’s company.

And it’s—

Nice.

And then, of course, there is Lancelot. He seems far too well meaning for Mordred to carry on any kind of maliciousness for long, except that for some godforsaken reason he has also decided that Gawain is an ideal muse. He spends way too much time following Gawain around, thinking up sappy poetry about Gawain, or else sighing blissfully out of a window (presumably over Gawain). Mordred thinks that if Lancelot were to ever be able to actually talk to Gawain (physically, he means. Or figuratively? Because even if Lancelot wasn’t a ghost he does not seem to have any cognitive abilities around Gawain anyway) then this image would be shattered. Gawain looks pretty, but so does this waterfall Mordred once read about that falls down into nothingness and despair, or the river stretch that looks like a lovely refreshing swim but actually is an fierce riptide with a 100% mortality rate. Something like that. But the point is that it’s difficult enough with Gawain constantly around without having his admirer hanging round all the time too. Gawain is insufferable already without Gaheris and Gaheris getting to add to their board of “Is Gawain Secretly (Or Not-So-Secretly) a Changeling” with ‘every time he puts something down it always seems to move just within reach when he goes to pick it up’

(If you’re wondering why there isn’t an Arthur, that is a subplot that I just suddenly decided on just now. I was going to have Arthur as a Captain-like ghost but then I was thinking and long story short there’s a tangent here—

It was Arthur’s house. He’s still Mordred’s dad, though here I guess he isn’t their uncle as well, and he left Morgause the house in his will. He heard she was pregnant, and there was a little but if him which knew he could never acknowledge his child but he still wanted to provide in some way. Arthur doesn’t have to be a bad parent.

Incidentally this also solves why the brothers didn’t really know about the house before rather than “Morgause wasn’t a big fan of the country”.)

(OH MY GOD also so Guin isn’t a ghost either bc I wanted her alive. So now she’s an important plot point. She moved into the outskirts of the nearby village because she liked the area but didn’t want to contest for a massive empty house. Anyway she’s smart and despite the problems her and her late husband went through, she does respect him for this. So eventually the Orkneys will have to go for a discovery on the house’s secrets aka there are ghosts and so they will find Guin and discover the Truth. It’s all coming together now lads)

They invite their neighbours over for dinner one night: the house needs some pretty desperate renovating, but it’s now moderately liveable at least and, according to Gawain, this requires a party.

So invite them over he does. The ones to the left, a couple named Tristan and Isolde, though Gaheris swears that when they were introduced in the village Isolde looked completely different, and the ones to the right, Morgan and Vivian. They pass a very pleasant evening, despite the fact that a fox manages to get on the roof.

No one is sure how.

Gaheris and Agravaine are charged with rescuing it, which is by far the stupidest decision Gawain has ever made. However, despite them all living together, the brothers are really not in a brilliant harmony yet, and so Gawain sends those two off whilst he entertains their guests.

The two of them are staring out the window at the fox for a while before Gaheris dares Agravaine to climb up. He doesn’t want to, but Gaheris is his little brother, and if he passes over a dare from him he’ll never hear the end of it. So he climbs out.

It’s a dry night. But it was not a dry day. And the leaves packed on all the footholds are wet and slippery, and Agravaine—

Falls—

And hits the ground, several stories below.

They’re all terrified, of course, regretting every moment they spent apart or arguing. Agravaine is declared legally dead for fourteen minutes, and it is the worst fourteen minutes of any of their lives. But finally— finally— the doctors emerge to tell them that their brother is resting, but is expected to make a full recovery.

Which he does! There are several more doctor’s appointments and physiotherapists scheduled, but eventually he can return to house. (Unsurprisingly, the arguing starts again quickly.)

There is, however, one major difference.

Agravaine can now also see the ghosts.

Mordred, having been able to see them all his life, had not considered this possibility, and thus does not prepare.

Agravaine discovers these new abilities when he walks into a room to find Mordred, pretending to be on a phone call, chatting away with Clarissant whilst Lamorak inexplicably floats nearby. He stares, screams, and blacks out.

When he comes to after a moment he is faced with a lengthy, surprisingly bored conversation with Mordred, and seriously considers blacking out again. Lamorak has not left the room despite his presence being an inevitable disaster, and Agravaine perhaps unsurprisingly decides that He is to be the newest mortal enemy in Agravaine’s list.

(Lamorak is silently gratified that he is on lists for both alive people who can see him, and chooses to ignore the reasoning behind the lists.)

Mordred has been dealing with ghosts for most of his life.

Agravaine has Not.

This means that, pretty quickly, Gawain, Gaheris and Gareth realise something is even more wrong with those two than normal.

And of course they have to come clean.

Gaheris is half convinced that the two have found his conspiracy journal and that this is an elaborate ruse to trick him into confessing love for Nessie or something. Gareth is mostly concerned about the logistics and privacy, though Mordred’s narrated conversations between him and Owain seem to make him much more comfortable with the whole thing. Gawain is genuinely tempted to jump out a window to see if he can join to newly discovered exclusive club of ghost watchers, but eventually decides that it’s too much a risk to his beautiful face.

(Lancelot silently agrees, though it has not escaped his attention that it would be nice if Gawain could actually see him.)

[zorua-adorable]

So, I’ve been doing some perusing of tumblr and checking out others’ reactions to the new FEH banner (here’s my reaction from last night). And I saw this reblog from @emblemxeno that got me thinking about 2 specific Awakening in FEH moments and thought I’d share my thoughts on them : :

1) This year’s spring banner

This banner finally got Severa into the game and Inigo got another alt; while back then I was happy, now I’m thinking they should’ve been alts of Laslow and Selena. Here me out.

Laslow and Selena already have their OGs in the game, so they can get alts without having to worry about the chance of getting out of alt hell like Severa and Inigo (double) have to. (Owain is the only of the Awakening trio in Fates to have non-alts of both his identities.)

Plus this banner gave us spring!Minerva, completing the pattern of all the Whitewings getting spring alts. This ties into my next point: Xander and Camilla already have spring alts, so making these alts be of Laslow and Selena make it seem like they’re there to celebrate and/or protect their liege.

I feel like some may disagree, since that makes Nah the only Awakening unit on the banner, decreasing representation in the game (which is true) and she’s not even playable, just a harmonized tag-along. However, spring has consistently given us more Fates alts than Awakening, so I think this would make sense to switch which version of themselves they were supposed to be.

FEH Springs:

Chrom, Lucina, Xander, Camilla

Alphonse, Sharena, Catria, Kagero

Veronica, Bruno, Loki, Palla, Marisa

Idunn + Fae, Bartre, Fir, Narcian, Est

Myrrh + Nah, Inigo, Severa, Saleh, Minerva

Okay, so it’s not as consistent as I thought… but, this shows two patterns in spring that we can use to fix this:

Spending time with family (Chrom + Lucina, Xander + Camilla, Alphonse + Sharena, Veronica + Bruno, Bartre + Fir, Whitewing Sisters) so to keep Awakening, we could’ve had Lissa and Owain hanging out.

Spending time with people who protect/work for you (Veronica + Loki (kind of), Myrrh + Saleh, Minerva + Whitewings) lets us go with my suggestion above to make them be Laslow and Selena alts to hang out with Xander and Camilla. (Also, does this mean we should anticipate a spring!Ryoma, given Kagero alt? No, hot spring version doesn’t count)

Also, if anyone gets upset about Nah being the only one from her game on the banner, Minerva was on this banner. No one else from her games was on the banner. A few(?) months later, we got the bridal banner with everyone on it from the same game except Catria. This isn’t a new thing.

Which leads into…

2) the Plegia Festival banner

This banner had me so confused when it first came out. I was excited, and then Tharja was the ONLY Awakening character on it. And according to my brother, she wasn’t even that good of a unit since Katerina’s tome was objectively a better weapon.

Like, what was the point of all those other characters being there? Sure some were from Archanea, but from way before Plegia was a thing! And why the 3H characters? Did Dorothea REALLY need to be deeper in alt hell? And if Raph was only there for the food, why didn’t they just save him for a Harvest Festival banner?

We could’ve had Henry! Robin and Morgan learning about their Plegian heritage! Maybe a male!Grima alt (I don’t think one of those exists)! What about an Emmeryn alt of her seeking to learn more about Plegian culture to better help her to reach peace with them? Admittedly, that month was harmonized and idk who’d I’d recommend to be the tag-along for that.

Sorry for talking so much. I just had thoughts and they ended up taking up WAY more space than I anticipated.

Note Before Posting: Add a “read more” so to not take up people’s dashes with this absolute wall of text that amounts to typical thought nonsense.

[jimmythejiver]

For the first time in a long time I went to the movies in forever and then to Target. At Target I see some Godiva bars on discount yellow tags and I was ecstatic until I read 70% Cacao, Dark, Salted Caramel and was deflated.

Anyway that's how I felt about seeing The Green Knight. What you thought this was about chocolate?

No see since the pandemic I've been back on my perennial King Arthur kick. I've for a long time since I was a young preteen thought, someday I too will write my own King Arthur epic and it'll be gay, magical, gangster and culty too, but for now I'll make up my own stories for practice and then with every story I got attached too, it got too involved and convoluted to the point that when it came down to actually writing a novel, I threw it all away and made a space opera I only planned in two weeks and wrote in a month. Anyway...so now I've been writing this very gay, magical, gangster and culty take on Final Fantasy XV with my boyfriend and just fell in love with Somnus Lucis Caelum who nobody has any insight about him than to make him the Mordred to Ardyn's Arthur, which is a strange flex, but okay, I thought about what if I wrote a Dark Age prequel about Ardyn and Somnus, but Ardyn becomes king and Somnus his shogun and they play games of seduction and power because I'm twisted like that. Anyway...I was like I'm never going to write this and I have to keep making up characters based on FFXV characters and King Arthur tropes because there's not a lot of stories that take place during the Dark Ages, it's always some Roman Empire story, or High Middle Ages and FFXV gave no room for either society to happen after the fall of Solheim and the rise of King Somnus...so we left with Dark Ages, y'all, the King Arthur comparisons are obvious, but Ardyn is no Arthur and Somnus is no Mordred, Aera is only Guenevere if you make up an affair with Somnus, Gilgamesh is no Bedwyr/Bedivere, but uh...they both amputees and the oldest companions to their respective kings so...I guess. Anyway making an ancestor of Cor Leonis and deciding well he's Owain/Yvain, or am Ignis type as idk Sir Cai/Kay I guess, they both cook, but Cai's more like Seifer Almasy than any FF character... Anyway I'm losing people.

My plan was to just scrap the FFXV prequel, leave my Somnus ideas into Overtime (a gangster and gods story) and just plan an actual King Arthur adaptation. I'd have King Arthur the treasure hunter, leader of a warband turned founder of Camelot who fights giants, giant cats and dogheads, but also fights King Claudas of the Franks and King Aelle of the Saxons and Cerdic a Briton who puts in his lot with the Saxons, etc. It'd been a a glorified turf war, meanwhile Arthur's gotta make alliances with King Pelles, The Fisher King and his strange cult he's founded because, why yes I find the ends justifies the means prophecy of the Holy Grail Quest very culty because Christianity then does not resemble it now. Meanwhile you got the secondary plots of Mordred, Gawain, Lancelot, Percival, Tristam and other's going on because they matter and too many modern King Arthur stories sideline the knights.

So many have always sidelined Mordred as a final boss eldritch abomination in mortal flesh conceived of sin and give him no personality, or complex motives, or even just a relationship with Arthur. I also have noticed the general sidelining of Lancelot, or give him a chad villain upgrade if you must include him at all, and the villainizing of Gawain to the point that you don't even have to have Mordred, or Agravain as a catalyst shit stirrer in court, just slap Gawain's name on Liam Neeson in a top knot and you're good. Mordred can just be a child offscreen until last act...fuck that, while Morgan Le Fay can either be a villainess plotting her cabal through men, or a well-intentioned, ineffectual idiot. Fuck that.

Now Hollywood just be doing King Arthur first acts that suck ass, only for said director to get rewarded failing upwards by giving this same jerk the Aladdin remake. The tonally shitty, crammed in blockbuster mess of a cliche heroe's journey that sucks.

With that background I was excited for The Green Knight. I read an illustrative version as a kid, I read Tolkien's translation as a teenager, I read Simon Armitage's superior, but with liberties taken translation. I was prepped to go knowing that indie, or not they were going to make changes to weave the disjointed poem together. I'm excited that because this movie exists Project Guternberg's finally thrown Jessie Weston's prose rendition up on their website. I'll be reading that at some point when this blows over.

The movie adaptation makes a lot of...choices, many I wouldn't love, but would forgive had their been a payoff. There was none.

The journey was fine, the cinematography was a breath of fresh air after crappy slo mo, glossy action scenes ruined another. Guys, I don't think I want to see a Zack Snyder Excalibur, it'll marginally be better than Guy Ritchie, but that ain't saying anything. Leave Excalibur to the post-Star Wars 80s where it is impeccable for it's time. I liked Green Knight's breathable pacing, it's color palette's in the forests and mountains made up for the muddy grey of every Ridley Scott send up in the castles and villages in every other Dark Ages/Medieval story in the last I don’t know since the shitty 00′s. For all the dark tones when there was blues, greens, yellows or reds, they were vibrant in this movie to contrast the gloom of Britain. The soundtrack was good. This isn't all what makes a movie, but it enhances it so let's get to the story and what I did and didn't like.

Things I Liked: Gawain is still a novice in his career The Costume Dressing Everyone pronounces Gawain's name different. I pronounce it like Gwayne, or Guh Wayne, but here you got Gowen (like Owen), Gowan (like Rowan), or even Garlon who I'm pretty sure is the Fisher King's heir in some versions of that Arthurian story, so uh... The reference to Arthur slaying 960 men with his bare hands (Nennius for the win!) The Waste Land that is implied to be a site of a battle (an important aspect of the Arthurian landscape) The Fox companion No long grisly, drawn out hunting scenes. The Fox lives! No misogynist speeches

Things I'm Mixed: This being a dream, is the magic real? Are the giants? Is the Green Knight a figment of Gawain's imagination from a spell Morgan casted in him to hallucinate? Is Lord and Lady also figments? It's...a way to interpret the poem, but lazy and I don't see why it's got to all fantasy, or all dream...this movie makes it too vague you're stuck picking one camp than to accept it's a fantasy with dream and hallucinatory sequences.

Things I'm Meh: Morgan Le Fay as Gawain's mom. Look I fucking hate Morgause as a character and these two get merged and steal each other's aspects so much at this point the difference is who did they marry, King Urien or King Lot? Both are attributed to being Mordred's mom, Mordred is Gawain's brother...both practice magic depending on certain incarnations, both love and hate Arthur their brother and are in conflict with him. Saint Winifred. I actually liked this sequence, but I don't appreciate her as the tacked on wife in the later dream sequence as like...a contrast between the wife you should marry than the whore next door you don't respect anyway? I don't even know what lesson I'm supposed to get out of the damn dream sequence, or any of it? That Gawain should've married his girlfriend and then he'd be a just ruler? That he shouldn't be king? That he'd never have to make the same heartless, impartial choices? I don't know, he seemed like a king doing king shit because guess what? It never gets easier. Wars will be waged. The world didn't become better because he married the right woman, respected her and lived in obscurity. The world didn't become better because he made her his queen. We certainly don't know the world would be better Gawain had his head chopped off and dead XP They never reveal the Lord and the Green Knight as one and the same because of this shit.

Things I Hated: Arthur withdraws from the challenge because he's old. In poem he takes it on and Gawain takes it so he don't have to and he finds himself more disposable than the king. Gawain only takes the challenge because of arrogance. Arthur and Gawain had no prior personal relationship. I'd not have hated this so much if it wasn't compounded by it cancelling out the first two things. Gawain is portrayed as having no respect for his woman, or any woman, maybe his mother? He has to be pushed by Winifred to regain her head. Gawain is portrayed as arrogant, covetous and ready to pass the buck, or the bare minimum than have any honor or decency. It didn't matter the kid in the wasteland was shithead bandit, the way Gawain acted towards him, when he gets robbed, it almost feels like he deserved it and Gawain doesn't learn a damn lesson. I'll admit him taking the sword to cut his ropes and cutting his hands was a neat sequence, it shows him go from stupid, to almost clever and having will to survive...you know traits he had in the poem, but he stops showing these traits or growing. Basically Gawain has to be dragged kicking and screaming to help people and shows no fortitude when facing temptation, or when showing respect towards others, it's exhausting. You don't make this kind of journey story without character growth. Why are you skipping this? Also is it just me, or is this like when you take Frank Miller Batman and transport him onto a Bill Finger story? This is at best Thomas Malory Gawain (and this is charitable) transported on the earlier Pearl Poet's story. Stop it. It's not tonally correct and goes at odds with the story and the set up characterization you'd need to tell it. Speaking of which, you know how I get through the oof... of Liam Neeson Gawain in Excalibur? By pretending he Agravain instead. Here...I don't even think Gawain could pass as Mordred in spite of his covetous nature, lust and entitlement. Why? because I don't think even Mordred is this dumb to warrant this hubris. Essel being invented as a tacked on love interest just to be shit on utterly and for what? I don't think I have much commentary here as there is no Essel I'm aware of to compare, or stack up. I just notice this trope of like...usually if you include a sex worker in Hollywood she often has a heart of gold, she often has her own sense of values that goes at odds with society, but is more true and less hypocritical than a privileged lady’s. I thought that's what they would've done with the added trope of back at home sweetheart to contrast and pit her against the despicable femme fatale of Lady Bertilak and her adultery and her ladyship...and I'm glad they didn't...but you did nothing with Essel than to shit on her for existing when you made her exist, you know. Lady Bertilak being portrayed as the seductress devil incarnate. Look I know adultery is a touchy taboo, but uh her and Gawain hit it off in the poem, dammit! Her values and his values come to clash, but here it's played off as Gawain is stupid and covetous and Lady Bertilak wants to prove something because...? If my brother's theory that she's a figment of Morgan Le Fay's magic, then I'll take this as a lesson of Gawain is impulsive and covetous and his mom knows it, but he don't want to fuck his mom, but he wants her power, and Morgan wants to teach him a lesson... I guess. Hey we don't have misogynist speeches in this movie, but we'll make sure to have the movie drip with it with no point, or commentary. Pass. Lord guilting, extracting and initiating the same sex kiss and only once. Poem automatically better that Gawain don't have to keep being reminded to keep his part of the bargain and he does it willingly more than once. What he doesn't do is give up his belt...gods how did we get more homophobic as a society that the homoeroticism here is worse? Catholics of the middle ages officially had no issue doing same sex, passionate kissing until it lead to sex. The Ending: The gods damn ending. In the movie as is, Gawain waits to uphold his end of the bargain and get his head chopped off. He imagines, even though we don't get any fuzzy or distortion to indicate this is a dream, but I already knew this was coming, he runs away and comes home, is regarded a hero, he sees his lady, takes her from behind and if you saw Brokeback Mountain (I didn't, but DJ has) you know this is a sign of disrespect to women. He gets her knocked up, pays her off for the kid she wants to keep, he is crowned king, marries the ghostly saint lady he helped retrieve her head earlier from a lake in the movie (this right here is the damn tip off). There's no more dialogue by this point and everything is montaging, so you know by now it's a dream, though nothing is out of focus. He rules as a heartless king, his whore son dies from war he waged, he has a daughter, his wife dies. Gawain then takes off the belt that would've saved his life and his head falls off. This would've been the one good twist, except... In this sequence of events he never had his head cut off so uh... now we back in present day. He decides not to bitch out, Green Knight in a sexy way is like "now off with your head," movie cuts to credits with no resolve...uh what the fuck? What the fuck? This is not good. You wasted the one twist in your dream when idk, you could've...

How I'd fix it: No dream sequence at all. No Incident At Owl Creek twist. Gawain comes home a hero and survivor of this game and ordeal. He wears this belt of shame. He becomes a well-renowned knight, but he bears a shame. One day he goes to take off his belt and his head falls off because he cheated to get this belt and to survive this encounter. There. Done. Improved your high concept movie that couldn't play any of the lessons straight from the damn poem without making everyone an asshole for no reason! Ugh! But nope you had to end it on we don’t know if Gawain lives or dies...because...it's dream magic made from his momma's witchcraft...?

Last Thoughts So then post-credits scene because Marvel because Pirates Of The Caribbean existed. A white girl who looks nothing like Gawain's daughter we see who didn’t pay off, or any child I can remember through this whole movie picks up King Arthur's crown that dream Gawain inherited and puts it on her head. Who is this girl? Are we gonna have an indie equivalent of of the Marvel Movie Universe/Universal Horror Monsters thing with ancient British legends? We gonna get a Life Of Saint Patrick next that crosses over? I don't know. What is this?

[kimium]

I don’t really have a prompt here other than “I want to talk about this and this is my blog so here I go”. I have so many fic ideas that I want to write however I’m never sure if I’ll get to them. So, I thought it would be fun to share some of them with you guys. I’ll put this under the cut in case it gets too long. It’s mainly for FE14 (Fates) and SDR2. That’s just because those series have concrete ideas. (I’d like to write more Magi some time…)

Now, in no particular order.

FE Fates

-A Kizanaiver AU with the Trio. (Basically they’re linked and can feel each other’s physical and emotional pain)

-Human Anankos survived and visits the Trio with updates except they have to Pretend They Don’t Know Him or are “Meeting up with some Stranger Wearing a Hooded Robe”. I was thinking more of a humourous tone.

-Modern AU Trio in Canon Fates who are strippers and their significant others (cough the Nohrian royals plus Niles for Odin’s case because oh wow I’m weak to those pairings) finding out they’re strippers in a variety of ways with a variety of reactions. I’d keep this story PG though so sorry, nothing else happening here.

-Remember that Bad Things Happen Fill I did with Actual Crazy Modern Anankos and the Trio? I have another fic set in that universe that’s sort of started focusing on Olivia (and Henry because that’s who Inigo’s father is in this AU) and the terror of finding out her son (as well as Owain and Severa) are missing. Includes cameos from Lissa and Cordelia.

-Timeloop of some kind

-The Trio never got out of Valla and only meet everyone (Revelations Route) when they jump down into the canyon

-A political marriage where somehow someway Laslow has to marry Saizo and both of them genuinely falling for each other (with “best brother” Kaze and “she needs to be paid more” Kagero)

-The Trio using very off the wall tactics in battle because “:/ well it has kept me alive before so…”

-Modern AU where Garon is a Good Single Father who has a Massive Crush on Single Father Sumeragi except their kids when younger had Prank Wars towards one another. Told in two sides where one is just Garon who has been Pining over Sumeragi for years and the other side where the kids had No Idea and are blind sided when their fathers hook up. Heavily inspired by the Heroes artist for Garon posting on their twitter their version of a younger Garon.

Danganronpa

-Actual Dragon Kuzuryuu

-High Key Protective of his Friends Kuzuryuu

-A Souda/Sonia/Tanaka fic in post SDR2 where Souda’s doing his best to mend his behaviour towards Sonia (so not basically idolizing her and genuinely trying to become her friend). However, Sonia and Tanaka (who are in an established relationship) realize “Oh… genuine, mature Souda is… very nice” and genuinely falling for him all while Souda’s Sweating at Night thinking he’s reading too much into their interactions

-Ghost Hunting with Tanaka and Sonia ft. “Why did I agree to go along?” Hinata and “I was Smart and STAYED HOME” Souda.

-More Komaeda and Komaru becoming friends post series

-A “What do you Mean Juzo Sakakura died in DR3 and can’t mend his relationship and actually date Munakata?” fix it fic

-A “Jin Kirigiri was Definitely in a Romantic Relationship with Kizakura” My own HC fic.

-Post SDR2 Everyone cooks with Teruteru

-General bonding with the SDR2 cast

-Something for my Bad Things Happen bingo fill “Hope is Scary” because what other series would I use to fill that space? (I’m kidding guys I could use anything really.)

[svarmodiig]

                                        CHRISTMAS SHORTS

Ⅰ. @fatestouched

✦ ▪       As Inigo’s eyes meet with Owain’s own, he can feel his pulse accelerate, heart beating at such a rate it almost feels like it could implode at any minute, setting free the countless butterflies which swarmed within. His breathing slows, each breath heavier than the last. They’d been friends for years now, and yet each time he laid eyes upon Owain, he had the same reaction. By now, he’d come to realise that it wasn’t normal - he didn’t get this with any of his other friends, but then again, none of them were like Owain. He was special. There was a warm feeling that seemed to surge throughout him when Owain was around, like a blanket, one which wrapped itself around him so tightly he felt comfortable. When they were alone, the world around them felt so distant, nothing more than a backing set to the main stage which they were centered upon. These feelings, they were what everyone dreamed of at some point, whether it be through idle daydreamt illusions, or through envy of a happy couple before them, real or fictional alike. There was something about romance which everyone seemed to want. Everyone wanted their own dream match, and yet that was the beauty in it. Dreams are just that. No one matched with the person of their dreams, not really, and yet as they met with their fated one, those ideals seemed to align into something entirely new. One could dream up someone entirely different to the person they met, and yet that dream would somehow take form of their newly beloved. Aspects of their dream begin to appear before them in a reality they could hardly have dreamt up. Perhaps that was the answer. Perhaps dreams purposefully misalign with reality, so that reality can be so much more than the dream. Owain was, by no means, the perfect match that Inigo had once dreamt up, yet such dreams had come to an end, replaced by dreams of him.

He can feel himself staring, but can hardly bring himself to stop. There was something about Owain’s emerald green eyes that he seemed to lose himself in, like a whole other world revealed itself behind those eyes. (In some realities, it likely did. Owain’s imagination was capable of quite nearly anything, yet in this moment, Owain himself was not living in his fantasy world.) 

“I- I suppose we should hit the sack, huh?” Inigo manages to ask through his nerves, a smile hiding the fear behind his true self.

Despite having years of friendship behind them, the two had never been forced to share sleeping quarters together before, yet times grew direr and such luxuries could no longer be afforded. He didn’t mind, quite the contrary, in fact. What made it so difficult was these feelings he harbored. Owain was within arm’s reach - literally, rather than figuratively, for once - and yet he couldn’t feel further away. How long could this go on for? He couldn’t say for sure, but something told him these feelings weren’t unreciprocated. He’d picked up on all of the eye contact by now, the way in which Owain seemed to grow defensive of him yet such a sentiment hardly expressed itself for anyone else. There was a soft spot in Owain’s heart, sure, but Inigo couldn’t be sure if it was in the same way as he had a soft spot for him. Was it platonic? Did he think of Inigo as merely a friend? Or was there more there?

“Heh, I suppose you’re right. War waits for no one, we should rest while we have the opportunity, friend!” Owain responds in an unusually calm manner, albeit one still expressed with his usual flare. It unnerved Inigo, he had expected some theatrical monologue about the realm of dreams from Owain, and yet his response had been… normal. A somewhat nervous laugh manages to escape his mouth, though he plays it off with a grin.

“Oh? No dramatic performance this time? Are you feeling alright, Owain?” He asks with a chuckle, watching Owain closely for any attempts to cover up his true feelings behind a mask.

“Ah- sorry to disappoint Inigo, I didn’t realise you secretly enjoyed them. I’m sure I can think up something cool, just… give me a second here.”

“No, No. There’s no need, truly, I was just expecting one, you usually respond with them, it’s a little surreal to hear you talk so casually around me.”

“Hm? Well… I suppose it’s because I feel safe around you. I don’t need to keep the act up, not while we’re alone like this… But to be clear, if you tell anyone about this, I’ll get you back.” Inigo can feel as his heart skips out on a beat, thrown off by Owain’s comment. He watches, with some guilt, as Owain stares out into the empty, unpainted canvas of the night, trying to create something beautiful out of nowhere with his words. Before he can, however, Inigo cuts him off.

“Heh, it’s our little secret, I promise. I’m honoured - happy - to hear you feel comfortable around me… I feel exactly the same.” Inigo smiles affectionately at Owain, mirroring the blond’s own. Unsure of where to take the conversation from here, Inigo abruptly decides to end the moment. Carefully, he turns over to blow out the lantern beside him, dimming the scenery around the two boys, leaving only Owain’s silhouette in his vision as he turns back. “Goodnight, buddy, rest up well.”

“You too, Inigo. Goodnight.” Owain responds, following suit and blowing out the candle on his side. Owain stays facing that direction after, however, unlike Inigo who had turned to look back at Owain. He studies the waves which ran through Owain’s golden locks, the way they curled back into themself on his neck, how they spiked up unruly atop his head. He adored Owain’s hair, it perfectly reflected his own personality, unpredictable and yet presentable in its own unique manner.

A discomforted sigh escapes Inigo’s mouth as he covers himself with the makedo blanket he’d been provided with. Their sleeping situation was hardly a comfortable one, he’d come to expect as such by now. He missed the days when he could sleep comfortably in his own bed, tucked in by his parents after reading a story to send him adrift. Such days were long gone by now, nothing more than distant memories or hopeless dreams.

In the vast emptiness of the prolonged night, time seems to flow in a much crueler manner. Seconds feel like minutes; minutes like hours; and hours a new measure of time somehow immeasurable. With his vision reduced by the darkness, other senses heighten. Each beat of his heart feels infinitely stronger. Each breath feels less unnoticeable. He can hear as Owain shuffles, trying to find a comfortable position no doubt. In the end, he, too, lets out a sigh, accepting the reality of the situation. Inigo could hardly remember the last time he’d slept well. It was only a matter of time until he passed out from pure exhaustion, that was usually how his nights came to an end. Yet, he found some solace in Owain’s discomfort. It was reassuring to know that his experiences were shared by the others. Truly, no one was in this alone.

“Trouble sleeping too?” Inigo asks, after some time, completely abandoning the notion of sleep and hoping ease himself from his nerves. Owain turns suddenly, facing Inigo once again, and even though Inigo can hardly see him, their eyes still meet across the small space in between them.

“I hate to complain, I know this is the best we can do, considering… But I just can’t get comfortable. We’ve all sacrificed so much, I just can’t help but wish for more, you know?”

“I do…” Inigo responds, eyes dropping to the ground before him. “We’re still alive, and that’s more than some could say, and I try so desperately to remind myself of that with each passing moment… But that doesn’t change the fact that these blankets are hardly enough to keep you warm, or comfortable.”

“Right? I can’t remember the last time I slept on any surface that wasn’t the ground.” Owain remarks, letting out a chuckle as he does. Inigo finds himself laughing along, almost forgetting the discomfort he was in. “Still, I suppose we should be thankful. There are people out there suffering each night, unable to defend themselves from the monsters which plague this land, trying to get by every hour of the day… They probably dream about being in a campsite like this… They’d probably appreciate these blankets, because it’s got to be better than nothing….” Owain continues after a moment, his tone serious. Inigo feels a surge of guilt overwhelm him. Even if their situation wasn’t the best, it was better than those of the innocent bystanders who were caught up in Grima’s onslaught. Clenching his first, he shakes himself out of the selfish thoughts which had taken root in his head.

“I suppose you’re right, this may not be the most luxurious life but it’s bearable… And we chose this life… Those people didn’t. That’s why we’re here, now.” With his resolve fixed, Inigo can’t help but let out a slight laugh, shaking his head. “Heh, who would’ve believed that you of all people would help me remember this situation.”

“--HEY! I think about them too you know? I might play the hero all the time, Inigo, but that’s because I have to - because SOMEONE has to. I don’t let it show, because… Honestly, I’m scared I’m not good enough. At least if I pretend, none of you expect anything from me, and I can avoid disappointing my own friends.”

“H-Hey, Owain… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it… It’s just. You always seem so confident in yourself, I look up to you in a way. I wish I could be half as strong as you are, even if it is just a facade.”

“Heh, you look up to me? I look up to YOU Inigo. You’re always so optimistic about things. Always trying to get everyone to smile and not let things get to them… We’d be lost without you Inigo, no one would have any hope, no belief that we’re doing the right thing.”

“Well... Just like you, it’s all one great pretense. I know everyone needs to hear those words, but the truth of the matter is, I need to hear them just as much as the rest of you do.” Wearing a slight smile on his face, Inigo shifts his focus to Owain’s silhouette once more. “I guess we’re all just pretending to be stronger than we are, huh?”

“Do you think....” Owain halts, shaking his head visibly, “No, nevermind.”

“No - Go on, what did you want to ask?”

“Do you think we’ll ever be okay? That this war will ever come to an end? That we can truly win? Or are we just holding onto false hope?” Owain asks with evident hesitance, and he quickly follows up. “Ah, sorry… I didn’t mean to ask so many questions… I just. Even though we’re all always together, it feels so lonely sometimes… I guess it’s nice to have someone to talk to about this.”

“Don’t be sorry, Owain, it’s okay… I ask myself those questions all the time… I wish I could answer, I wish I could help you. The truth is, I don’t know. There’s no real way to know, not really… But we have to hold onto our hope, it’s the only thing we have, the driving force behind everything we do. We can’t let it go, not now. We’ve come too far for that.”

“...Thank you Inigo. You’re right, we can’t afford to let go of our very reasoning for being here.”

“There’s no need to thank me, Owain, that’s what friends are for, after all.” Inigo pauses for a moment, reaching out to rub Owain’s shoulder gently. “You’re not alone. You can always come and talk to me, no matter the time of day, or whatever the topic. I’m here for you.” Though he knows Owain probably can’t see it, he flashes a sympathetic smile. Inigo tenses up slightly as he feels Owain shift, placing his own hand on Inigo’s own, taking his fingers in between his own and squeezing his hand gently. His heart flutters, chest tightening as the action registers in his brain. He clenches his fingers, pulling Owain’s tighter into his own, taking hold of his shoulder more comfortably.

“You’re a god send, Inigo, you know that? I couldn’t ask for a better sleep shift buddy than you.” At the title, Inigo laughs, his smile reforming unknowingly as he does.

“I- I just…” Inigo stutters in response, though no further words manage to follow.

“Hm… Our hands have warmed up a little like this, haven’t they?” Owain asks, leaving Inigo confused for a moment. He wasn’t entirely sure of Owain’s train of thought in that moment.”Perhaps we ought to lay side by side, that could warm us up.”

“Y-You mean, like spooning?” Inigo responds, startled by Owain’s suggestion.

“O-Oh… No, No! That wasn’t... I just meant...” Tension rises between the two, one that sends Inigo’s blood boiling, a nervous heat radiating from his body. “...That would be more effective though… If you don’t think it would be weird?” A lump seems to form in Inigo’s throat, choking him ever so slightly. It feels almost as though his heart has ascended - and he’s ready to throw it up, to hand it over to Owain there and then. Through gritted teeth, he brings himself to let out a response.

“N-No…. Of course not, w-with all we’ve been through, I s-suppose spooning is harmless in comp-parison…” Still, his heartbeat fastens, violently pounding against his ribcage, trying to escape, to free itself of the tension which crushed his chest. He hears a few bursts of nervous laughter come from Owain as he desperately tries to look at anything but Inigo.

“I think I already know the answer but… you’d rather be the little spoon, right?” Instinctively, Inigo’s nerves force a laugh, nodding his head in agreement to Owain’s question. He flinches as Owain tosses his blanket at Inigo, telling him to put it atop his own to double the warmth. He narrowly has time to do so as Owain rolls over, coming face to face with Inigo, the tips of their noses touching. They share a small laugh, Inigo staring once again, as he had done so early, He’d never been this close to Owain before, and though he had scanned the blond’s face a few times, there were features he’d never had the opportunity to notice before. His freckles were one he’d noticed a few times now, they were fair, lightly decorated on his face, though he hadn’t observed the pattern they made. They seemed like a constellation of stars, each holding the dreams of the innocent boy they covered. Blending in within them, a few scars serve to remind the cost of the war, close counters that he’d been spared from. He wanted to run his fingers across each scar, to kiss them better, to ease the burden of this war from Owain. Flashing a smile, Inigo pulls himself back to reality, turning away from Owain to allow the blond to wrap his arm across Inigo’s body, resting his hand on his stomach. Abruptly, Owain pulls Inigo closer, resting his chin on Inigo’s shoulder gently, his chest placed against Inigo’s back. Inigo can feel Owain’s pulse match his own, beating furiously from Owain’s chest into his back. He doesn’t say anything, he’s scared to ruin the moment, to make things awkward. “Are you comfortable, Inigo?” Owain asks, his breath warm on Inigo’s shoulder.

“I am… I…” Inigo stops himself from saying he’d never felt more comfortable, that this was all he’d ever wanted, all he’d ever dreamt of since he first saw Owain. This closeness, this intimacy, he wanted this feeling always. “Are you?”

“I am…” Owain replies, and Inigo can feel the smile form on his face. Inigo shifts his right arm up, placing it under Owain’s own against his stomach, and he takes Owain’s hand as he does, holding it tightly.

“Thank you Owain… Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Inigo.” Owain replies, placing a soft kiss on Inigo’s shoulder. Without saying a word, he’d answered all of the questions Inigo never asked. It was mutual.

[whatsherfacewrites]

Victoria

Summary: Cassandra reigns over the Chantry as Divine, but the Inquisitor has a hard time letting go. An angsty, angsty one-shot (to the heart).

Read on AO3

Owain tilted his head at the armed sentries that stood watch by her door.

“Are they always in here?”

“They are here for my protection.”

He arched a brow and smirked, an increasingly rare sight these days. “You? Protection?”

Divine Victoria rolled her eyes. “The clerics insist.”

He paused and pitched his voice just for her. “Even with me?”

She sighed, and against her better judgement, she relented.

He walked out the glass-paned doors to the balcony as she dismissed her guards. They left reluctantly, and only after she flashed a glimpse of the sword strapped to her hip beneath her vestments. As the door closed behind them, she pulled the tall gilded hat from her head and set it on her desk, scratching her fingers through her hair. It always itched underneath.

She went out to join him and found him standing by the railing, looking out over the green cathedral gardens. She stood beside him, resting her hands next to his on the cool stone. Without taking his eyes from the trees, he lifted a hand and placed it gently over hers, curling into the spaces between her fingers, weaving them tight. His hand was warm. It always was.

She didn’t stop him. They stood like that for a while. A minute, maybe two.

“Owain…” she began, as the moment stretched on. They shouldn’t go down this road. It was worse, every time.

He gasped, a ragged, sharp thing. Then he released her hand and pulled away, turning to look at her with storm-grey eyes brimming with pain laid bare. Whatever masks he wore as the Inquisitor and Herald of Andraste, the face and the titles that had carried him here, he let them slip now, leaving only the man. The man she had loved and still did, but whom she had left in order to do the Maker’s will.

He looked diminished since the last time she had seen him, though that was barely two months prior. His hair had grown long, and the dark beard that covered his sharp jaw was verging on unruly. To her, he was handsome as ever, but there were shadows under his eyes and a slump to his shoulders. She told herself it had nothing to do with her.

His voice was rough and low, just above a whisper when he spoke. “I came to say goodbye.”

She frowned. “What?”

“You won’t see me for a while,” he explained, shifting his weight and casting his eyes at his feet. “I won’t be coming to Val Royeaux. To the Chantry, I mean.”

“Where--”

“I haven’t decided fully,” he cut in, his words tripping over themselves, “but likely a tour of the Inquisition outposts. Spend some time in the Approach, check on our camps in the Wastes, circle back to the Dales before heading back to Ferelden. I’ll be all over, really.”

Her brow only knit further. “Is there some need? Some emergency? You have already closed all the rifts...”

“No no, I just… miss it, that’s all,” he stammered. “Getting my hands dirty, doing real work. It could be good, I think.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why do I not believe you?”

He shook his head and huffed the saddest laugh she had ever heard. Her reflection swam in his eyes, and his jaw flexed as he chewed his lip between his teeth. He heaved a great sigh before speaking.

“Fuck, I miss you.”

“Owain, don’t...” she warned.

“Maker, Cass.” He squeezed his eyes shut and turned away, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyelids. “I thought I could do this, but I can’t.”

He threw his hands in the air and made a frustrated, wordless noise. Then he glanced at her again and paced to the end of the narrow balcony. She watched, swallowing the lump in her throat. She didn’t know what to say. Why did words have to desert her now?

He made his way back to her, tapping his fist on the railing with each step. “I can’t,” he went on. “I’m not this man. I’m not... good enough. This kind of sacrifice, it... It kills me. To come here and see you, to have you so close and not be able to touch you. You have no idea.”

“I have some idea,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

He stopped pacing and sighed. “He’s your Maker, not mine.”

She looked away and dug her fingers into her arms, trying to master the mix of anger and pity and hurt that was swirling in her heart. This called for a measure of patience that had never come easy for her.

“Owain, think of all the good we have done,” she said gently, trying to encourage, not provoke. “We are still rebuilding, but there is peace. True peace. Mages and Templars work together for the good of all Thedas. The Chantry is a source of hope once again.”

“I know,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know. I just… Hah. Is it terrible if I wish we were still at war, just so we could be together?”

She dropped her arms and looked at him sadly. “I have changed the Chantry law. Mages can marry and have families. You could find someone else and--”

He looked stricken at her words, and then angry, twisting his face in a scowl. “Don’t insult me,” he snapped.

She pressed her lips in a flat line. Well, that wasn’t really what she wanted, either.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, checking himself. He shook his head again. “I didn’t come here to argue. I didn’t mean to start this again.”

He drew near and stretched a hand to her face, brushing the hair from her forehead with feather-light fingertips. He took a deep breath and gave her the saddest smile.

“I just wanted you to know.”

Some part of her wished for him to take her in his arms, to kiss her like he had done so many times before. But that was a different life, a past life. Cassandra’s life.

Instead, she simply smiled at him and touched her hand to his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into it.

“I will always love you, Owain.”

He curved his mouth again and roved his eyes over her face, like he was committing it to memory. Then he took her hand in his and pressed his lips to her palm.

“Goodbye,” he said, before turning to head for the door. She wasn’t sure what compelled her to jog a few steps after him, following him out through her office and into the hallway. She cursed her robes for slowing her down. But he didn’t look back.

The Inquisitor was a good man, she thought, as his steps echoed off the marble halls of the Grand Cathedral, carrying him ever farther away from her. She did not regret her decision to seek the Sunburst Throne. She had done so much good and had plans for so much more.

Then why did she feel like she had broken something precious?

Divine Victoria returned to her room and shut the door. Then she bent on her knees to pray.

[glatisants]

Albion: The Legend of Arthur (Closing Thoughts)

I’m gonna start with some really general, spoiler-free notes on what I liked, what did and didn’t work, the characterization choices, and that kind of thing. Further down will a more specific discussion of the story and writing decisions and such, and that will get into more spoilery territory.

also before I get into my subjective opinions about the series, I want to say that this should be taken with a tremendous grain of salt, given that

I am probably not the best person to ask for lit recs in general, given that my favorite piece of Arthurian lit is unironically, wholeheartedly The Dream of Rhonabwy;

My standards for audio media are probably lower than most people’s—I used to listen to 1940s radio for fun and that has absolutely numbed my palate;

I’m a little biased, in that I think Owain/Ywain is sort of underrepresented in Arthurian media, and as such I get irrationally excited whenever he’s included as a character in anything, however loose that characterization may be (my caveat, though, is that I strongly dislike the real historical Owain mab Urien; I want a cool Owain/Ywain who is also very obviously fictional).

***

All in all, I liked it, but I’m not sure I liked it as an Arthurian adaptation. Something like this is kind of a departure for me—honestly, I’m not usually a fan of Arthurian adaptations that do away with the Round Table and make Arthur a 5th century warlord. Legendry, and particularly Arthurian legends, can be this very odd thing, in that it lies in this liminal space between pure mythology and, like, history fanfiction, and honestly that makes me very uncomfortable.

I get the sense that the writers’ main sources were mainly “chronicle”-type things and Welsh bardic poetry—things like Nennius, Aneirin, Taliesin, Geoffrey of Monmouth, maybe Layamon’s Brut, and possibly the Welsh Triads and the Mabinogion. When certain familiar narrative elements are stripped away—no Round Table, no Grail, no courtly love—it can be difficult to reconcile that with more traditional takes on Arthuriana. Still, it’s not like I’m an expert on adaptational integrity, and I know modern authors do weirder takes all the time. And some things—such as the sword in the stone, and the idea of a Round Table—are hinted at in a way that are tailored to the more “grounded” nature of the story, while still capturing the ideas that live behind the symbols. And magic and fantasy do enter the story, in a deeply satisfying way, even as the story is largely focused on politics and warfare.

The gritty, “realistic” setting of Dark Ages Wales can be a dealbreaker for some people; honestly, I’ve felt that way before. I did appreciate it wasn’t overly violent, and there wasn’t any rape/sexual assault—there is one scene where a character is implicitly threatened by a group of Picts (but to put it mildly, things turn out well for her), and in the final episode one character is almost forced into an unwanted political marriage, but those are the only moments I can think of. And the series as a whole ended up being more optimistic than I thought it would be. The main themes are that hope is a beacon that lights the way into the future, and that stories are powerful and immortal (a bit cheesy, perhaps, but I love that sort of thing).

Characterization Notes

Gwenhwyvar—I absolutely loved this take on Gwen; something about the way she was written just hit perfectly for me. She was incredibly clever, perceptive, and protective of her people above all else; she was serious, astute and pragmatic, but also kind and gracious. She commanded an army, and yet always approached conflicts with the priority of peace.

I’m not usually a fan of Warrior Princess Gwen because it can remove a lot of the subtlety of her character, but that problem didn’t come up here; they make a point of showing how she’s underestimated by her peers and uses this fact to her advantage in order to wield her power discreetly. But when she met for political negotiations with councils of men, they always spoke as equals, with nothing but respect for her.

Arthur—Honestly, he fell flat for me compared to the other characters, and I felt like I couldn’t get a good sense of him. Arthur can be a tricky character to write, because there’s this inherent need to make him stand out as a heroic figure, and that usually entails either seeing him eye to eye or elevating him to great heights; either he’s written as someone someone people can emotionally connect to and see in a personable way, or he is extraordinarily capable and thus untouchable. Here, I think that the pathos was largely found in characters like Anna and Owain, and that untouchable capability in Gwenhwyvar, and it seemed perfectly natural that the focus would move away from Arthur and towards them as the series progressed.

Honestly this might have been intentional—one of the points we’re left with by the end is the idea that Arthur grew to be far more than he ever could have realistically been, and that the hope he inspired was the reason he lived on in the stories, rather than who he might have been as a person.

Medraut—I found him a bit underdeveloped, and that was a shame—I really wish we’d gotten to see more of him. There were some mentions of his past friendship with Arthur, but that tension was hardly felt until they finally met in battle; I think there could have been a lot of potential there, and besides, he was a fun character. He was charismatic and affable, manipulative and petty, stuck on nursing old grudges; but he was also without friends, family or country, completely alienated and digging himself into a deeper ditch with every move he made. 

Owain—Genuinely uncertain how I feel about this characterization! He was intelligent, good-hearted, courageous, caring, and thoughtful; he was extremely likable, and I found that…a bit odd, honestly. I can’t really articulate my thoughts further than that. 

Others: Myrddin—this is the only take on Merlin I’ve ever genuinely liked. He’s such a nuisance and just beautifully weird. Aergol—I found him really interesting, and I was actually a little surprised by how much he grew on me by the end. Cynon—I found him such a tragic, miserable character, equal parts contemptible and heartbreaking. 

Room For Improvement

The pacing mostly fine, but a little bit odd in places—I felt like the final act could have used a bit more buildup.

Audio coherence could’ve been better during some of the action scenes—there were definitely a few parts where I was not totally sure what was supposed to be happening. Most of the time it didn’t bother me, but when it’s something like Arthur facing off against Medraut, that should be a dramatic high point, and I want focus and clarity; otherwise, whatever is trying to be conveyed will inevitably come across as anticlimactic.

I might’ve liked to see music used in more interesting ways, bc it can be really integral to effective sound design. There were a couple scenes where it was used really well (the leadup to the Battle of Badon, for instance), and I would’ve loved more of that.

I don’t know if this was supposed to be an intentional choice, but I could not take the Saxon characters seriously at all—they were performed in such an over-the-top way that they made me laugh more than anything else. The other characters were portrayed very well, I found the voice acting quite strong, so the sheer oddness of the Saxons stood out to me.

***

Okay spoilers below

I was all about Anna’s storyline and I think it was one of the strongest parts of the series. I loved the idea of this woman, killed unjustly for fiercely clinging to her ideals in spite of tremendous pressure, finding strength in her fallen ancestors and rising again as a powerful enchantress determined to seek revenge. It felt right for her, totally cathartic, and I was glad that she was treated so sympathetically.

I tried not to think about it too deeply, but I think I saw her as sort of a Morgan/Morgause composite; obviously the name Anna is associated with Morgause, and she’s linked with Lewdwn (aka Lot) of Gododdin, but her transformation to enchantress led her to call herself Morgan.

It was pretty clear that Owain had feelings for Arthur, but I sort of wish it was a little less implicit (fyi for people who haven’t read the other recaps, they’re the same age and not related in this). Like, I guess they were involved in a major plot point that was a pretty clear allusion to Achilles and Patroclus, and other characters kept mentioning rumors about them, but the most direct reference we got was Arthur confessing to Gwen that they had been together briefly when they were kids, and while Arthur never loved him, he had never thought to ask Owain how he felt. By the end, you kind of get the sense that Owain’s main motivation all along has been this love/loyalty, but it’s done in such a subtle way it leaves a lot of room for interpretation, and the fact that there was so much in their dynamic that went unspoken just exacerbates that.

I wasn’t sure how to read the ending and especially the final line. What I’m going with—just my personal interpretation—is that both Anna and Owain are stuck somewhere between life and death, possibly in a literal way as well as a figurative one. One of the recurring themes is, like, legendry as a means of resurrection and even immortality; legends are a place between life and death, where the dead are made immortal to walk among the living. So by the end, both of them have come to see firsthand how legends are made, and have become people tied to the liminal space of legendry, and thus belong to neither world.

I say this could be in a literal way as well as a figurative one bc Anna was given new life both through a physical transformation and the stories people would tell about her, and possibly some combination of both. And I think this could apply to Owain as well—maybe when he chose to take on the mantle of Arthur, he and his bronze sword somehow joined that part of the Otherworld with Anna and Merlin, and he became the proverbial King Asleep in the Mountain. But that might be a bit of a stretch. 

***

That’s all I have to say about this. I think the combined word count of all these posts could be a full-fledged novella, so thank you for your patience and for reading!

[eliaspsuedo]

Fire Emblem Warriors thoughts

12-16 hours, DONE! At least with story mode, I still have history mode and all the unlockable characters to get through.

I’m sure the main Dynasty Warriors games are good. They should be if companies keep making spin-offs based on them, but my general thoughts on these Dynasty Warriors spin-offs is that they’re fun diversions but they get repetitive without any decent hook, either in the story or gameplay. I played Dynasty Warriors Gundam 1 back when I was young and Dragon Quest Heroes in preparation for this game. From what I remember of DW Gundam, it’s that I liked it for the first few hours till it got stale, but I’ll always remember the original mode. The interactions (always loved seeing the Zechs, Puru, and Domon), the scenarios, and it was the first time I saw stuff like G Gundam and most early-UC shows. Dragon Quest Heroes is one I really enjoyed for the gameplay and bits and pieces of character interaction. It felt a tower defense game, where you get medals to summon monsters as your sentry, it really livened up the combat. Lastly, because I was more familiar with DQ, I got to understand all the fanservice, references, and the joy seeing my favorite DQ characters interact with each other. So, now that is the context of where I’m coming from in terms of DW games is clear, what did I think of FE Warriors?

First up is the negatives of the game.

Story mode was pretty bare-bones, which I expected but I was hoping for a little more flavoring in what little meat I got. The plot was pretty average: Young Lords, Chaos Dragon, obvious betrayal, etc. all that stuff you’d see in a FE game, but what really made the whole story come out as “meager” for me, was the lack of cross-game interaction and involvement in the main plot. There are brief bits of cross-game interaction, like Lissa talking to Oboro or Camilla praising Robin, but they’re brief and there’s little impact on the plot. This is important because this is a chance to either flesh out the characters out of their element or give us a pair that we’d never thought about, but now we want to see more. I go back to the Zechs, Puru, and Domon group from DW Gundam. They were all from different series, had different alignments, and completely different personalities, but seeing them work together, and even get out of their comfort zone by acting out of character really made them stand-out.

But what about the Supports? That’s a problem, cause by relegating the fun and interesting interactions there the player will miss out and the story will suffer. You have to work to get them, which is harder since maps last longer, rates feels slower, and for all that hard work you get 3 minutes of character portraits talking to each other. It’s ok in regular FE because there’s more opportunities to raise levels, you get more talk, and it mostly helps side characters. Let me put it this way, would you rather see Frederick fix Leo’s collar in a text box and read about it, or fully animated while you’re in the game?

The characters in Warriors are should be an ensemble, meaning their skills, personalities, and talents are equally spread out and given a proper time to shine. This is not helped by what keeps the characters we want to see together, the main characters. My friend who only plays FE Heroes, likes Dynasty Warriors, and doesn’t like Rowan character design, helped me put it into words: “They feel like discount Sharena and Alfonse.” I agree with that, cause there’s not much to Rowan and Lianna. Aside from what they are (twins, royals of the kingdom, etc.), who they are is lost on me. Rowan gets off better, cause he has aspirations and liking to knights, but that doesn’t change the fact that they are pretty much there. Since a large chunk of the plot is about them, we got less time to get a feel out of the Heroes.

Going to DQ Heroes, I got more fun out of Luceus and Aurora, the male and female characters of that game. Now, Luceus thing was he prattled on complicated battle strategies (something I wish Robin did in the game) and took an analytical look, and Aurora was his foil that summed up his plan and just attacked and did what she felt was needed. What made them so fun to watch was how we saw those interactions during a supposedly tense moment, and it lightens up the mood and brings up the energy for hack and slash.

Another thing, voices are repetitive, especially in menus.

I saw a piece of trivia on how Rowan and Lianna were made sword users to help with the tutorials. I can see why they did it, but I have a better idea: how about making them wield all the different weapons? It lessens the oversaturation of sword users, it really make them feel like our avatar, and allows some variety in the animations. Though rigging up 5 different weapon animations seems like a hassle…

The last big negative is how many characters have little to do. This is most apparent with Marth’s group as, aside from some scenes including one with Darios, they really don’t do much in terms of the plot. In fact, now that I think about it, even the other groups don’t much to do either. The most I remember is moral support and speeches, but for active and direct actions? Not much. Takumi disarming Darios, the Shepherds teaching the group, Sakura finding a cure for Rowan, snapping Corrin out, and the Gleamstones, those all are out of the top of my head. I’m glad Celica and Lyn aren’t in Story mode cause they’d have even less to do! I doubt adding more character from the other FE games would help. With a plot this thin, I doubt we’d see more of, say, Ike that we’d see of any other character. I guess if you want to see the older cast, that’s what FE Heroes is for.

There definitely could’ve been more to the story. At best, it’s ok. I think the problem was the story was too serious. In the above DW spinoffs, while it had dramatic moments, there was a lighter or fun tone in all of them. Cause you’re reveling in all the carnage, fanservice, and characters. The story of Warriors didn’t feel like that, it just felt like another cut-out FE story, and that’s sad. If it joked around for more scenes (one or two scenes of Owain and Niles don’t count), maybe the bland story would’ve been more forgivable.

So that means I hated FE Warriors, right? NOPE

It actually surpassed my expectations!

A big part of that is the gameplay. With the added FE elements, it manages to turn the rather repetitive combat into a tactical action RPG. First, the weapon triangle means you have to think who engages what. You defeat enemies faster and easier when you have the advantage, and vice-versa. This means team composition is crucial, giving you some thought in who you pick. Do you add archers cause there are fliers? Do you add mages cause there are dragons? Can I deal with being at a disadvantage? Combine this with the second: Commanding units, and you got something just like a FE game. During gameplay you can command your units to attack certain enemies or defend forts. You cannot ignore this and power through, you have to manage your units to efficiently win. This means you have to constantly go to the map and give orders, lest you have the AI dilly-dally, and pay attention who’s attacking what. For example, Takumi is guarding that fort, so I’ll order Corrin to kill him but not let Camilla go anywhere near him since he’ll shoot her down (Fun Fact: I did defeat Takumi with Camilla). Add to the fact the AI, which can handle themselves competently (though you do have to wrestle with it a lot), takes a while to defeat enemies, then you really have to do a lot of the work with your 4 playable characters to get the job done. This leads to a very engaging and frantic juggling act, and makes the core gameplay really solid.

Next, the pair up system was a really useful feature. You pair up two units and that unit will be your sword and shield. It adds another layer of strategy to your fight since now you can swap between a sword and a lance user to easily adapt to the situation. It comes at a cost though, as it cuts your commandable units. So that’s another thing to consider, losing a possible defender. Plus, the dual guard makes attacks not hit you and it is a life saver when you’re completing Anna missions that require you to not get hit.

The maps were also impressive. Taking advantage of fliers ability to, well, fly as well as using Dragonveins to improve the map for you units. It’s a really nice touch. There weren’t too many spaces without enemies, so there’s always something to do.

Let’s talk technical, because on the Switch it’s amazing. A steady framerate while docked (you can pick between 30 or 60 FPS), and undocked it works just as well. Especially with local co-op. I was impressed on how it ran undocked with two players. A little choppier, but it remains consistent and having a buddy around enhances the tactical edge, since you have to coordinate your actions.

History Mode was another thing I like. I haven’t completed it since I’m underleveled, but I am enjoying it more than Story Mode. On a FE map (complete with sprites), you select enemies like they’re missions and defeating certain enemies expands your area. The challenge here is to get S-Ranks to get Master Seals and other good stuff. It’s missions like defeat 500 enemies, or only use magic users, is varied enough to keep me interested, and there’s some story bits in it that seems interesting. Female Robin makes an appearance in the Awakening map, with Male Robin and Chrom watching in astonishment, it’s an interesting angle to say the least.

Finally, it’s the polish. The stunning animation, how it runs, how good the cutscenes look, and just how it feels like Fire Emblem. I had the same feeling with FE Heroes. Different format, same series, wonderful feel.

So in the end, I wasn’t expecting much, but I got more than what I asked and I definitely recommend it. Now I’ll just wait for my beautiful wife, and hope the next FE game on the Switch comes soon!

Now, let’s do the odyssey~

[miyaio]

lucina and severa for the character writing meme

just did lucina, so now here’s a veritable novel abt why severa is quite possibly my favorite character ever to write.  a couple of people requested her, which i have to admit is flattering www  i’d make an oc w/some of sev’s traits just so i could write bitter petty snarky lonely girls forever, but they’d all pale in comparison to the genuine article.

- her voice and speech patterns: tbh this edges on the defining trait for me when i have severa as a narrator.  she has a very unique and colorful way of speaking, imo.  her snark isn’t all stock phrases--she can actually get rather creative with it.  some of the lines severa drops in her a support with her dad are absolutely choice, and her tongue is at its sharpest not when turned against others, but when turned against herself.  severa’s language often drips with self-deprecation, but in a defensive way, as if she’s daring the other person to agree with the insults she’s heaping on herself with sarcasm that’s not 100% genuine.  not to go on a tangent about the similarities between severa and inigo, but the two of them do engage in similar selective self-flagellation, where they put themselves down because they feel they deserve it, yet they never own up to themselves and address the root of what’s actually causing their problems.  severa is just much more overt about it than inigo.

that said, she does really earn her title as a member of the snark and bark society.  severa has such a snappy voice, with the slightest twinge of anachronistic “valley girl” slang coupled with a propensity for sharp turns of phrase she sometimes finds herself regretting.  contrary to the inane tsundere stereotype (if i never hear someone call severa a tsundere again, it’ll still be too soon), severa is quite good at putting her feelings into words--those feelings just often tend to be her initial lashes of annoyance.  the fun thing about writing severa is teasing apart those layers, from the prickliness, to the subsequent regret over being so prickly, to the defensiveness or self-deprecation, depending on whether or not she does decide she was justified in the harshness of her initial statement.  her thoughts and speech alike ultimately crackle with life, plus an expressiveness that ranges the full gamut of emotions and situations.  severa will stick her oar in on just about anything, so there are always new contexts in which to color her narration with severa-isms.

- her disingenuousness/abrasiveness: piggybacking off of some of the elements from the previous item, severa jumps the tsundere shark pretty cleanly and lands squarely in the territory of genuine abrasiveness.  severa’s default mode of interaction with others is not cute, and is seldom portrayed as such.  it damages her relationships, causes her to put her foot in her mouth, and then she has to wrestle all the harder with her own bruised brand of pride in order to own up to her mistakes.  the act of owning up to her mistakes is, in and of itself, a big struggle for severa.  she would rather stagnate and wallow in self-deprecation than take that jump to try and address the stubborn root of her own bitterness.  i’d say this actually gets worse in fef, rather than better like her out-of-nowhere competitiveness gimmick suggests, but to be frank, selena and odin read like bad fanfiction versions of severa and owain about 95% of the time.  i don’t really consider a lot of her fef self to be genuine char dev the way i would for inigo -> laslow--if anything, she’s even more bitter and unfulfilled than ever.

what fef does showcase consistently and well, imo, is that severa is an emotional juggernaut.  there’s a fear undercutting much of her abrasiveness, that if she slows down for even a second or lets that facade peel away a bit, she’ll sink.  being honest with herself can be very difficult for severa, in a way that can be almost painful to watch, rather than romantic or cute.  she resents and blames the world for making her the way she is, and then resents and hates herself in turn.  both feelings are simultaneously justified and unjustified, to an extent in respect to each.  severa turns a lot of her barbs outwards in a reactionary fashion, to stave off more losses like those of cordelia and her father, while also turning them inwards because she knows she’s far too harsh.  this is s/t she has to struggle to disentangle and change, to sort out the parts of herself that (for example) are genuinely burdened by cordelia’s legacy from the parts of herself that willfully ignore the truth of cordelia’s feelings in favor of a stubborn vision of her mother that severa’s carried from a young, uninformed age.

however, severa isn’t all snark and bark.  there are different degrees, ranging from that heavy undercurrent of mistrust and bitterness to her and cynthia/laurent/inigo/kjelle/etc engaging in some relatively benign verbal sparring.  severa does show her soft underbelly, even if it sometimes has to be drawn out by her dad or someone like lucina.  i think it’s important for her to have that space to be softer and more honest with herself, without defanging her into an uguu dere shell of herself.  severa is just a really messy person, frankly, and i love it.  some of the mess is stuff she genuinely needs to move past in order to grow as a person, and some of the mess is a part of her that i feel i can’t sweep under the rug when portraying her--severa is severa, metaphorical warts and all, and it’s a huge part of what makes her so interesting to me.

- her tendency to project: kind of a weird dark horse pick to round this post off.  severa is very prone to projecting onto other people, whether she’s projecting her general feelings, or her feelings about someone else.  the big example is, obviously, cordelia--even if a fic never mentions cordelia, as i said in the previous point, a lot of severa’s inferiority-superiority complex stems from her flawed view of her mother.  severa sees cordelia as having chosen chrom over her because it was what she wanted to see as a young girl at the time of cordelia’s death.  she projected that limited understanding onto the image of her mother, and with no cordelia there alongside her as she grew up, there was no reason for severa to reevaluate that view as she matured in emotional understanding.  severa is damn stubborn about this particular projection, as dismantling it would open up quite a can of worms for her and force her to examine the parts of herself she can change, rather than blaming all her ressentiment on this ghost of cordelia.  “ressentiment” is a good term for the attitude with which severa projects onto cordelia in general, now that i think about it.  in any event, this implicitly influences a lot of the way severa acts and reacts, even if she doesn’t consciously think “this reminds me of the convoluted chain of thoughts, feelings, impressions, and misunderstandings that lead back to me blaming my mother for every aspect of my dissatisfaction with myself” lmao

it’s not always That Deep--severa is also just prone to more casual comparisons to other people she knows.  she does this a few times in her supports, and i have her compare herself to noire in one of my fics within that vein of projection.  she also does/would do this more in an fef setting, as with her peri-noire comparison (canon), which could then be extended to most of the new people she meets.  the notion of severa projecting her image of/feelings towards lucina onto camilla is a reeeeally particularly fascinating one, and a concept i still can’t figure out how to do justice.  so maybe it really is That Deep?  everyone accesses prior knowledge when faced with something/someone new, but i feel severa draws upon the familiar beyond that basic point.  this is another one of those traits that colors severa’s narration, while also informing the kinds of actions, remarks, or responses she might make when interacting with others.

[saltymyrmidon]

6. sibling!inigo/lucina; feawakening; 1836 words

notes: -So I forgot that I needed to post something today because I’ve been busy with anime cons so here I am -I wrote this like six months ago -You can find the previous two chapters/oneshots of this sibling!lucina/inigo fic on fanfiction if you know where to find it -I started writing it again because I really love their sibling dynamic almost as much as I love the actual ship, but it has been ages since I played awakening and so I never finished it! -I probably screwed up the plot! Who knows! I’m not surprised!

There are times when Inigo wishes he wasn’t a prince.

It’s stupid, right? It’s cheesy and embarrassing. But as much as the idea makes him cringe, he can’t help but think about it sometimes. In his rare moments of spare time, between fighting and trying not to let down his country or his sister or trying to uphold his father’s memory or struggling to be something his mother might be proud of, Inigo will allow himself to dream.

He doesn’t expect anyone else to understand. Owain is constantly boasting of his royal blood and, in the rare moments that he actual drops his games, has confessed that he really does take pride in his heritage and his brand. This leaves Lucina—Lucina is the only one that he could truly go to and he has a couple times back when they were younger, back when death wasn’t constantly knocking on Ylisse’s door. But his sister is so determined—she faces her problems with the same stoic grace she faces everything, and she puts aside all her worries or needs for the sake of her kingdom, and she is so goddamned perfect that Inigo doesn’t dare vent to her at all these days. 

There is no time to vent, anyway. There is no time to do much of anything. The Risen push in towards Ylisstol, ever closer, and the surrounding countryside is in shambles. But still people pour into the city, refugees looking for healing and shelter. This war is getting nowhere. They are accomplishing nothing—just pushing back the inevitable.

There is no time for dreams anymore. There is no time for anything anymore. Despite their best efforts, no one can seem to get any sleep, and tensions are frayed. Cynthia loses the bounce to her step, and Owain starts confusing the names of his attacks. Kjelle and Severa will spend hours trading arguments. Yarne shrieks at any sort of small noise and he and Noire can often be found in tears. Graceful Inigo, ever the dancer, trips over his own feet one morning and nearly impales himself on his own sword. Their own exhaustion is going to get themselves killed one of these days, and all this does is stress them out more. The team is breaking and Ylisstol is crumbling and the Risen inch ever closer and they can’t figure out how to stop it.

Late one evening, Lucina gathers the few of them who are not even attempting to sleep and asks them to meet with her in the weapons room. Inigo trails behind her into a room that looks much more like a storage closet. Weapons of every sort are crammed onto every available surface. The room has barely enough space for a broken table and two chairs.

Severa is here, and so is Kjelle, and Gerome and Laurent. Yawning, Inigo sits up on the table and stretches one arm over his head, trying to play off his exhaustion the best he can. “Luce, what are we doing?”

Lucina shuts the door and leans her back against it, shutting her eyes. Her skin looks paper-white in the flickering candlelight; a brownish-yellow healing bruise snakes up her arm into her shirt, and even ignoring the lighting Inigo can see the dark circles under her eyes. Lucina has always been the best of all of them—always moving, always with a plan or a speech or something. But she’s as exhausted as the rest of them.

The look on her face is frightening. Despite how much he wants to claim otherwise, Inigo is the younger brother, and with their parents gone, she’s all he has. Lucina is his constant in this disaster of a world; seeing her scared only reminds him how truly terrifying their situation is.

“This isn’t working,” Severa guesses, breaking the stunned silence that has settled over the room. Lucina does not move; she does not acknowledge Severa’s words. Doing so would admit defeat, and Lucina will never give up.

“We need another plan,” Laurent rephrases. He’s holding the same book he’s been reading for the past five days. Inigo knows it’s the same book because he’s caught him reading out loud to himself in the library well after midnight, only to grow frustrated and throw it across the room as he realizes he can’t comprehend anything. “Protecting Ylisstol is a noble cause for sure, but it is like placing a simple bandage over an infection. We are not treating the wound’s cause. Effectively, we are doing nothing.”

“We’re protecting the people,” Kjelle snaps. “That is far from nothing.”

Inigo sighs. He’s tired of Kjelle and Severa snapping at every little comment. He’s tired of the others’ stoicism towards their arguments. He’s just tired. He sighs in exasperation, impatience creeping into his voice despite his best attempts to hide it. “You know what he meant, love. If you would just take a moment—”

Kjelle scowls. Normally her glare would be frightening, but right now he’s too tired to care. “I told you to stop calling me that, you little—”

“Did you have a plan already in mind? Or did you need us to help come up with ideas?”

Inigo blinks, turning around to see that Gerome has found a place to make himself invisible in a corner, somewhere between racks of axes and lances. He ignores the room’s surprise; he is focused on Lucina, who finally opens her eyes, blinking as some of her usual resolve flickers back into them.

“I had an idea,” she confirms. “I wanted to ask a few of you before I brought it up to everyone.”

“About what?” Inigo asks. What could she be thinking of? They’ve exhausted all their options just keeping Ylisstol standing. Even if Laurent is right, and they need to go after the source, they are no match for Grima—their parents proved that a long time ago. If not fighting the Fell Dragon directly, then— “You don’t mean—”

“The rite,” Lucina finishes with a nod.

Severa crosses her arms. “I thought all the gemstones were missing, and that’s why we’ve never tried it.”

“The gemstones are missing,” Lucina confirms, “Along with the Emblem, but… we have an idea of where they might be. Lady Tiki gave us an idea.”

“An idea? So we aren’t sure?” Kjelle asks.

“There’s no way of pinpointing their exact location. But if we know around where they are, we can do some investigating and look around and—”

Kjelle cuts her off. “It might be a wild goose chase. For all we know, Grima’s got the gemstones and the Emblem already. Who’s saying the rite would do anything anyway? If we leave Ylisstol unprotected, the city’s done for!”

Inigo jumps off the table. He’s tired of all the complaining, and the look of doubt that flickers in his sister’s eyes is the thing that finally breaks him. “Do you have a better idea?” He snaps, ignoring the way everyone’s eyes turn to him. “When are you going to realize that sitting around complaining isn’t going to change anything? We know we need a better plan! We know that we could end up with nothing! But we’ve got to do something, before we all end up killing each other before the Risen finally get us! So if you’ve got an better plan, Kjelle, I’d be glad to hear it.” Tirade over, he finally realizes that everyone is still staring at him; face flushed, he returns to his place at the table.

“…I’m sorry,” Kjelle whispers, her voice surprisingly small. “I’m sorry, Inigo. I didn’t mean—”

“I’m sorry,” he answers. “I didn’t mean to yell, love.” He adds on the diminutive in an attempt to get a rise out of her, and he does get a small smile in response.

“The gemstones,” Laurent says over the silence that has settled over the group.

Lucina snaps back to attention. “Yes. Lady Tiki says they’re scattered across the continent. Finding them… it’s not going to be easy.” She frowns again. There’s something hiding behind her expression. The team trades gazes across the weapons room; they all know what she’s thinking, but it is Severa who finally brings it up.

“We’re going to have to split up,” she says. “It’d take too long to reach them if we all traveled in a group.”

Lucina nods. “…Yes.”

“Well, we decide teams in the morning then, yeah?”

Lucina blinks, glancing back around the room. “You… we all agree? This is our plan?”

Severa scowls, flipping a ponytail over her shoulder and placing a hand on her hip. “Well, it’s like the prince says. No one’s got any better ideas, so what do you expect us to do?”

“We should talk in the morning, with everyone,” Kjelle says. “That would be the best time to decide teams.”

Kjelle’s words are an unspoken dismissal. Lucina steps to the side so that Kjelle and Severa can disappear into the hallway; Laurent and Gerome move a bit slower, but they follow in the direction of their rooms. Eventually, Inigo and Lucina are the only ones left. He jumps off the table again, this time deciphering his sister’s expression.

“Go to bed, sis,” he says when she does not move. With a smile, he adds, “Or else I’ll have to follow you, and then I’ll almost stab myself again, and Owain will never let me hear the end of it.”

“Don’t joke about things like that,” Lucina admonishes, but she gives him a small smile. The smile wavers as she takes a final glance around the weapons room. “Severa was right,” she says. “I never thought about how we would have to split up… Maybe this isn’t a good idea. I could be sending everyone to their deaths, and…”

“Luce.”

She looks up at him. She is worried, and while her fear does scare him a little, he does his best to hide it. She trusts him enough to show her true emotions when the others have gone away. Just like when he would complain about being royalty to her back when they were kids, Lucina is confiding in him now. So Inigo hides his fear the best he can, hoping that maybe he can be half as much a comfort for his sister as she is for him. “Everyone knows what they are getting themselves into. We’ve always known. We all want the same thing, and we’re going to do whatever it takes to get it. You aren’t leading us anywhere we wouldn’t already want to go.”

Lucina shakes her head, and her smile appears a bit more real this time. “You’re right,” she agrees. “Well, at any rate, we will figure out something in the morning. We should try to get some sleep.”

“Of course.” He follows his sister out of the room. No soldiers come to interrupt them and they do not speak much. It’s one of those brief moments that they have to themselves—where Inigo allows himself to think that maybe they do not have to be prince and princess, but just brother and sister.

[operationrainfall]

This lovely hardcover is beautiful and hefty

While I know there are many camps of the Fire Emblem fandom, I sit in the camp that not only loved the revival of the series with Awakening, but also appreciated the subsequent entries, such as Fates and Echoes. That said, there’s still something comforting about going back to the beginning, so today I’m doing that with The Art of Fire Emblem: Awakening.

Published by Dark Horse and containing 320 pages full to bursting with character art, bios, rough drafts, behind the scene info and much more, it’s a veritable treasure trove of Fire Emblem lore. It’s split into six massive sections (Official Illustration Gallery, Concept Art, Story Event Illustrations, Players’ Voices, Character Profiles and Support Conversations) and each is both beautiful and informative. This fantastic hardcover book is priced at $39.99, which is a pretty fair price considering the wealth of information included (it has EVERY support conversation, for example). But you probably want to see some of the art, right? Let’s take a look!

The book starts out with detailed character bios for all the heroes and villains alike in Fire Emblem: Awakening. These full sized, colored portraits do a great job of conveying the disparate personalities of the characters, from childish macho Vaike, to sultry, sinister Tharja, and everyone in between. I thought this was a great way to start any artbook and get the reader’s attention.

Validar is large and in charge.

The next section focused more on variations in characters, as well as art for some classic fighters from Fire Emblems of yore. The Character Design section was especially intriguing, showing some early takes on popular characters. While some remained pretty much the same from conception to execution, some were drastically different looking (take a look at Validar and Kjelle below).

For those fascinated by the fine details that go into costumes and weapon design, you’ll absolutely love the next section. While it can be easy to dismiss how much effort goes into designing the weapons you wield, you’ll have a new appreciation for them after looking at the following artwork.

This is but one page of many displaying the numerous conversations that take place in the game.

Storyboarding is another intensive process that we only see the end result of. I have a new appreciation for all that hard work after reading the next few pages. Also, if you wanted a reminder of the rosy glow of love, you’ll love the Proposal pages I post next.

The next sections are for those obsessed with the minutiae of fandom. Specifically, several polls were conducted in August of 2012 in Dengeki Online, with questions such as Favorite Male Character, Phrase Which Left Biggest Impression and more. I was surprised by some of the results, as the favorite male character was pretty vanilla, with everybody loving Chrom, followed by Owain at 2nd place and Gaius, Henry and Avatar in 3rd, 4th and 5th respectively. Also fun here are the What If sections, which are comical little stories. Oh and if you want to see every possible way you can customize your Avatar and children, that’s here too.

We’ll close it out with the sections I found least interesting, the Character Cards, Glossary and massive Support Conversation section (it takes up the last 100 or so pages of the book!).

Overall, I was pretty pleased with The Art of Fire Emblem: Awakening. It’s a true tribute to fans of the game and series, and well worth the price of admission. Regardless of whether you’re happy or sad with the direction of the series lately, it’s good to remember that we’re fortunate it has lasted this long. My only real complaint with the book is how much space is devoted to dialogue without accompanying art. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go wax nostalgic about my stumpy legged friends once more…

[easyreview cat1title=”Overall” cat1detail=”” cat1rating=”4.0″]

Review Copy Purchased by Author

Hugs!

Artbook REVIEW: The Art of FE: Awakening While I know there are many camps of the Fire Emblem fandom, I sit in the camp that not only loved the revival of the series with…

[merlinficreview]

The Student Prince Chapters 16-20 Review!

The Student Prince by FayJay

Word Count: 145222

Chapter 16

This chapter opens with Merlin waking up with a massive hangover. Arthur helps orient us, and Merlin, since he’s currently not sure of anything. “It's Raisin Monday. We've got to go to Morgana's place.” Thanks, Exposition Arthur!

Arthur then quickly returns to asshole mode and pulls the covers off of Merlin. “Arthur didn't say anything for a long moment, and Merlin cracked his eyes open just a little. Arthur was staring at his throat, and he'd gone rather white. Merlin lifted his fingers stiffly and rubbed the spot Arthur was looking at, which felt sore, and Arthur flinched, and looked quickly up at Merlin's face, and then away.” Ahh yes, a hickey. How embarrassing. Though if some dude is biting and sucking your neck so hard that it hurts the next day, that’s way too excessive. Arthur can fuck off with his jealousy though.

Merlin suddenly remembers the previous night and things get awkward. Arthur walks away to take a shower.

You know, I’m sitting here thinking about this whole Raisin Weekend thing, and I’m not sure why they would make the final thing on a Monday when people have classes. Wouldn’t it make sense to have the tea party and get together with Academic Dads on Saturday and then this shaving cream fight thingy on Sunday? Monday isn’t even part of the weekend. So it’s not really a weekend thing because they didn’t even do anything on Saturday.

As they walk to Morgana’s, Merlin brings up Arthur making out with Gwen, “’Look, it was just a snog,’ said Arthur, defensively. ‘We were a bit pissed. Don't start matchmaking.’ And then he reddened, and looked away, and a heartbeat later Merlin remembered the Matchmaker game and Arthur's tongue sliding over the seam of his lips, licking away the powdered sugar from the doughnut that he'd chased there.” Once again, Arthur can fuck off with his nonsense.

Once they get to Morgana’s, they find Gwen, who is dressed as a knight. “They trooped dutifully after her, passing Kay standing in the kitchen in nothing but a pair of skin-tight white leggings, grumbling under his breath as Helen busily painted him Smurf-blue. Gawain, in matching red leggings complete with white beard, red smurf hat and blue skin, was munching on a bacon roll and reading The Times a few yards away.” I’m honestly just including this because I don’t know what a bacon roll is, but I now really want a bacon and cheese sandwich. Also, good, Kay deserves to freeze his ass off in just a pair of tights.

Anyways, Arthur will be dressed as Merlin and Merlin will be dressed as Queen Guinevere. I tried not to say, “yikes at putting the gay man in a dress and making him the woman,” because I thought I might be overreacting but, “’Come on, Merlin – what are you waiting for? I thought you liked being a queen,’ said Arthur, maliciously. Merlin glared at him.” Soooo yeah. Merlin LIKES this dude? Really? I do have to say, I feel like Morgana switching the outfits around is seriously only an excuse to put Merlin, the gay dude, in a dress. It’s gross.

Then Merlin starts to get undressed to put on his outfit and Morgana notices his hickey, “’Oh – er, well, yeah,’ Merlin said, meeting Morgana's amused gaze with a rueful one. ‘Um. Edwin, if you must know. He's a PostGrad? He, er, plays World of Warcraft.’ ‘Oh! Edwin!’ Her grin broadened. ‘Yes, he's rather good at World of Warcraft.’ Her mouth twitched. ‘As a matter of fact, I heard he was pretty good at macramé too.’” Haha Good one, Morgana.

Exit Gwen and Morgana while the boys start getting undressed, “’So – that was Edwin, last night,’ said Arthur, a few minutes later. ‘Your friend. From GaySoc.’” Is now really the time to talk about this, Arthur? How awkward discussing the guy you’re fucking with the dude you wish you were fucking who sent you out MAJOR signals right before making out with your best friend, who then caught you almost fucking said guy, before running away in a fit of jealousy, all the while this discussion is taking place, the two of you are getting naked.

Merlin agrees with me, “Merlin didn't particularly appreciate being questioned about his love life by Hottie McHotterson when he was in the act of dropping trou, but apparently the universe was not being run with his happiness in mind.”

Merlin of course can’t get his wig on and gives up after one try. Then Arthur of course has to help him. Which of course ends up with Arthur all up in Merlin’s space, which his hands all over Merlin’s neck. Of course. Sure. Makes total sense.

Arthur continues to interrogate Merlin about Edwin, asking if Edwin is Merlin’s boyfriend. Merlin says that they are just fuckbuddies. Which shocks and embarrasses Arthur. That’s what you get for being an asshole.

Then Arthur keeps on going but, he makes a good point, “’Oh,’ he said, in a strangled voice, fiddling with his beard. ‘Well, that's – cool. I suppose.’ He frowned. ‘He looked quite old,’ he said. Merlin shrugged. ‘He's thirty. Which means he's pretty sorted, and very experienced. Also, he does a lot of yoga. Tantric yoga. There is no bad to this.’ He watched Arthur's face colouring up. ‘Is that enough? Or do we need to go into exhaustive detail here?’” Now, Merlin is in the right with his, “is that enough?” comment because Arthur is being a nosey little jerk. However, I think it’s hella sketch that a “sorted” and “experienced” THIRTY YEAR OLD MAN is fucking around with an 18 year old. That shit is suspicious and super gross. We knew that Edwin was in graduate school so I expected him to be around 23-25, which is still a little weird when hooking up with an 18 year old but fucking yikes at him being 30. What the fuck are you doing, Edwin? Merlin is basically a child. Yikes to the max.

So Morgana comes in and says it’s time for Merlin’s makeover. I don’t get why only Merlin is the one wearing makeup here. She could totally paint some stars and moons all over Arthur’s face or something too. Oh wait, yes I do know why Merlin is getting makeup, because he’s the GIRL. Silly me.

Chapter 17

“’I dunno – I think he actually makes quite a shaggable bird,’ said Owain, looking Merlin up and down in some surprise. ‘Nice tits.’ ‘They're built into the dress,’ said Merlin, irritably. ‘I didn't grow them specially, you know.’” This made me laugh. Good job, Merlin.

So then Blanche and Morgana start talking about Merlin’s padding and feeling him up. Let’s talk about that for a minute, shall we? It’s gross. Don’t fucking do that. Merlin is clearly uncomfortable while Blanche and Morgana are touching the padding in his dress and they are just ignoring him and going about their business. I don’t care that it’s just padding that they are touching and not actually a part of Merlin. They are currently on his body. You would NEVER do that to a woman, whether she was wearing padding or not, unless she gave you permission. Because boys and girls, touching someone in a way they don’t want to be touched is sexual assault. This is portrayed as a funny scene though, with Kay even taking a photo. We are supposed to just laugh at Morgana and Blanche feeling up Merlin’s breast padding though because he’s a man, so it’s fine. Yeah, it’s not fucking fine. Don’t touch people without their permission. Period.

Now let’s talk about this: “’Hello? Standing right here, thank you very much!’ snapped Merlin, as Kay took a photograph. ‘Oh, Christ. Tell me that isn't going on Facebook,’ said Merlin, without much hope. ‘Of course it's going on Facebook, Emrys,’ said Kay, pityingly. ‘Wonderful.’ ‘Oh, shut up. You actually look almost fuckable, for the first time in your pathetic life.’ Merlin felt his jaw drop, and was conscious that several other heads had turned to stare at both of them. But mostly at Kay.” Ok. So not only is this sexual assault occurring with SEVERAL people watching and finding it hilarious, Kay is taking a photo of it with the purpose of it going on the internet. This is not cute. It’s not funny. It’s not a lighthearted “LOL Merlin, the gay man, is dressed as a WOMAN!!! Let’s fondle his padded bra while he is clearly upset about it and just continue doing whatever we want because it’s funny!!” moment. Stop. Just stop. Now, let’s talk about Kay’s comment about Merlin being fuckable. I am honestly unclear on what the author was trying to achieve with that. Considering how homophobic Kay is towards gay men, Merlin in particular, I find it incredibly out of character and unbelievable that Kay would say that. Is this supposed to be the beginnings of a redemption arc for him because it’s the worst redemption arc ever in the history of redemption arcs.

Anyways, someone, it’s not assigned as being said by a particular person, gives us the skinny as to what’s going to happen, “So – it's off to visit your Academic Fathers to collect your Raisin Receipts, and then on to Foamageddon in Sallies Quad. But before we do that – group photo!”

They make it to Lance’s and Gwen gives us some surprising information, “’Er – thanks for, you know. Seeing me home last night,’ said Gwen, looking distinctly flustered.” She says this to Lance by the way. So not only did Arthur use her to make Merlin jealous/reject him/what the fuckever his dumbass nonsesnsical reasoning was, he left poor drunk Gwen alone and didn’t even help her home. PRINCE FUCKING CHARMING, YA’LL.

The “receipts” that Lance provides them with are all on recycling bins and they all have some sort of Latin phrase on them. Google is about to edumacate me on what these receipts are supposed to be because we have no Exposition Character to fill us in.

So this is the website I found and it might have been the site I used earlier when I looked up Academic Moms and Dads my bad for not including it in that post:

https://owlcation.com/academia/St-Andrews-University-traditions

So according to this, traditionally, seniors could ask freshmen for a pound of raisins on Raisin Monday. Once the freshmen gave out their Raisins, they would get their “receipt” from the seniors and could no longer be asked for raisins anymore. It’s not really stated on that site, but it seems that the tradition has just transformed so now the Academic Dad’s give them embarrassing receipts to carry around and there’s not an exchange of raisins at all anymore. Sure.

We get some more information that isn’t really mentioned on the website, “’I'm afraid that if anyone feels like being a git, they can still demand you show them the receipt and then dunk you in the fountain for the mistake,’ Lance apologised.” So I guess if your receipt has incorrect Latin or incorrect information, the seniors can throw the freshmen in a fountain. Which seems mean since the freshmen aren’t the ones who write the receipts so it wouldn’t be their faults. Also, I’m pretty sure it’s November. Cold.

As they walk around, Merlin bitches about how stupid Raisin Monday is and how just because something is a tradition, it doesn’t mean it should be followed. Which I 100% agree with. Some traditions are rooted in some pretty gross and unacceptable practices. On the less depressing side, a lot of traditions aren’t even followed correctly. They are like bastardized versions of the tradition itself. I had this conversation when one of my friends got married. She insisted on wearing a white dress because it was “tradition.” I had to tell her, “you know white isn’t even technically that old of a tradition when it comes to wedding dresses. You know what else is ‘tradition’ and the entire reason of wearing white on the wedding day? Virginity. Just saying.”

Well that went way off the point I was trying to make. So, even though I agree with Merlin, he needs to take a look at his current audience, which includes the Prince of Wales, who is part of a traditional and (and pretty useless in these modern times, if we are being honest) monarchy.

Merlin soon spots an Academic Family composed of Arthurs. Which I think is pretty funny and so does Merlin. Arthur is less than impressed. “’What do you mean, it's me?’ demanded Arthur, crossly. ‘It looks nothing like me!’ ‘He's wearing a blond wig, and aviator shades, and a jacket just like the one you were wearing yesterday, and a crown with a load of Latin on it for a Raisin Receipt and – oh, God, no, look! Look what they've done! It's not just him! The whole family are all you! Only different varieties, see? Look, he's Football-playing-Arthur, and he's Jogging-on-the-beach-Arthur, and she's Pilot-Arthur, and that poor bastard over there must be Water-polo-Arthur. And that one in the suit of armour is – er – do you ever wear armour?’ ‘That's King Arthur. Like me,’ said Gwen. ‘The other one.’” I think that’s pretty cute.

“Right! Ha! That is genius! Oh my God – you should go over there and out yourself! Say 'I'm Arthur' and we could have a whole "No, I'm Arthur! No, I am, no I am, no, I am' thing! Like Spartacus!" I agree with Merlin. That would be hilarious and all in good fun. Arthur has to be a stupid party pooper about it though, of course.

They arrive at the Quad where the big shaving cream fight is going to take place. Merlin says he is going to get Arthur covered in shaving cream for “vengeance.” Arthur asks what the vengeance is related to, “’Vengeance for – for the flooding of the Tryweryn Valley to make a bloody reservoir for you English!’ said Merlin, because he couldn't exactly say ‘Vengeance for flirting with me and then getting off with one of my best mates, you git’.” Too bad Merlin didn’t have the guts to actually say that second one because he would be 100% in the right there.

The clock strikes and Merlin runs away. Arthur chases him, obviously, and Merlin turns around to stand his ground, “Arthur took this in, and didn't slow down a jot. Merlin hadn't quite realised his intention until the idiot barreled right into him and the two of them went sprawling in a tangle of flailing, overdressed limbs. And then in an embarrassingly short time Merlin found himself pinned to the grass with Arthur straddling his waist, both wrists clasped in one slippery grip above his head, and Arthur grinning down at him. The beard dangled in Merlin's face and he twisted away and blew ineffectually at it.” NORMAL PLATONIC BRO STUFF. MOVE ALONG. Arthur sprays Merlin’s entire face and chest with the shaving cream. Then Arthur takes off Merlin’s wig and starts massaging the shaving cream into Merlin’s hair. As bro friends do.

“’Oi, Arthur, stop trying to fuck the chav,’ yelled Kay, and Merlin watched all the laughter and gentleness fall right off Arthur's face to be replaced by a shocked, half-frightened expression. He let go of Merlin's wrists and pushed himself away as if Merlin had suddenly become contagious, and Merlin felt all the sunlight vanish from the day with that jerky, horrified rejection.”

Fuck you, Kay. But double fuck you to Arthur. Poor Merlin. He deserves so much better. Arthur runs away and Merlin has to spend the rest of the fight pretending to be ok. Poor dude.

Chapter 18

“It struck Merlin as massively unfair that people were still expected to attend their lectures and tutorials that afternoon, once they'd all stumbled and squelched back to their respective Halls of Residence and had showers.” That’s what I said earlier! So Merlin is feeling very sad because Arthur is pretty much ignoring Merlin after the shaving cream incident. I don’t blame Merlin. Merlin needs to find someone else, and by that, I don’t mean Almost Twice his Age Edwin.

“Merlin registered, almost absently, that Gawain really was, objectively speaking, a very attractive bloke indeed. He'd known this, obviously, but hadn't given it much thought one way or the other; his current state of undress, however, even with all the paint and foam and ridiculous beard, revealed a six pack of truly exceptional dimensions; he was beginning to get an inkling of why Morgause had developed a bit of a soft spot for Gawain.” Merlin can run off with Gawain. Problem solved. I feel like in about 90% of the fics I read, I want Merlin to leave Arthur, who is usually a great big asshole to Merlin, and run off with Gawain. Also, just want to point out that Gawain is described as being “half a foot taller than Arthur”. Which kills me because Eoin Macken is like the shortest of the Knights.

Again, this was written before Gwaine’s character was introduced on the show but still.

Merlin asks Gawain (which is really hard to type by the way since I’m so used to Gwaine, so sorry if there’s any typos) how his time with his Academic Dad went the previous night, “’There were more drinking games,’ Gawain said, in a tone that spoke volumes. Merlin winced. ‘And then Kay got into a fight with one of Tristan's flatmates, and fell down the stairs.’” Good.

Gawain looks at Merlin’s hickey and gives him kind of subtle warning to be careful with his feelings; I think he thinks Arthur gave Merlin the hickey. When Merlin gets back to his room, Arthur is there and he basically just ignores Merlin. Asshole.

Later, Merlin is hanging out with Gwen asking her about Arthur. Gwen tells Merlin she made out with Arthur because he was there, “’I know," she said. ‘But – but Lance never flirts with me. I don't think he even realises I'm a girl. And Arthur was there, being all hot and flirty, and, you know Prince Arthur, for Christ's sake. Who wouldn't flirt right back for all she was worth?’ She bit her lip. ‘Is this weird? Are you pissed off with me? I mean – I know you think he's hot, but you're not...’ She gave an embarrassed half-laugh. ‘You're not in love with him, or anything, right? And, you know, he's straight, so...’” so this kind of solidifies my annoyance with Gwen. She clearly knows Merlin has a thing for Arthur and just kind of brushes it off with, “well he’s straight so it’s not like it’ll ever happen for you…” Not cool Gwen. Don’t be such a shitty friend.

I don’t know why Merlin doesn’t straight up say to both Lance and Gwen, “I know for a fact that they are into you because they have explicitly told me.” I would be so over their annoying, “but they don’t like me!!!!” at this point I would probably stop being friends with both of them.

Gwen tells Merlin that the makeout session with Arthur sucked. “’Well – sorry, no, that sounds a bit awful, doesn't it? I'm not saying that he's a bad snog, just that – er, do you want the sordid details?’ ‘Apparently I have a previously unsuspected streak of masochism a mile wide, so – yeah. Hit me,’ said Merlin.” I mean, that is Merlin almost literally admitting he has a thing for Arthur. Gwen said the kissing was bad because there was no spark.

Merlin asks Gwen if she and Arthur slept together and she says they didn’t. Then she asks if the guy Merlin left with was Edwin. “Gwen stole another chip. ‘He's hot,’ she said. ‘Tantric yoga, you said?’” He’s also 30, sis.

I don’t know why Freddie Prinze Jr. is at the end of the gif but it still makes my point.

Gwen leaves to do her nightline thing with Lance. Merlin texts her and is all, “trust me. He’s into you! Ask him out!” and Gwen ignores him. Well, he tried.

Merlin is asleep later that night when Arthur stumbles in, drunk, with Kay and Leon. “’Didn't ask your opinion, Emrys,’ said Kay, without looking at him. ‘Arthur, you can come back to ours, you know, mate. Could bunk with me, if you don't want to stay in here. Not good being drunk around the chav.’” Yup. Because since Merlin is gay, he is a rapist! Better lock up all the menfolk! God I fucking hate Kay so much. And I hate that no one ever puts him in his place and the fact that Arthur and Co continue to hang out with him makes me super suspicious that they secretly agree with Kay’s homophobic views and they feel the same way about Merlin. They can all die in a fire with Merlin cackling gleefully over their burning corpses for all I care.

Kay leaves, praise Jesus, and Merlin starts lecturing Arthur about getting drunk on a Monday night. “’What on earth were you thinking?’ he added, as he fiddled with the tap. ‘It's really not like you to get pissed on a Monday night. You should have been out flying at Leuchars, for God's sakes, not getting hammered! Didn't your liver get enough punishment last night, you lunatic? I mean, God, I don't think I'll be touching alcohol for at least a month, after yesterday – and you're already off on a bender! You're mental, Arthur Pendragon. Must be all that inbreeding.’”

That’s all.

Arthur asks Merlin if he was off sleeping with Edwin that night and Merlin continues on this amazing Brutal Honesty Hour roll: “’Sorry?’ ‘Edwin. I don't like him.’ ‘You've not even met him,’ said Merlin, feeling exasperated and knackered and faintly unhappy. ‘Don't need to.’ ‘What's that supposed to mean?’ Arthur said nothing. Merlin punched his pillow in frustration. ‘Well, luckily you're not my dad, or my boyfriend, or the boss of me, so it doesn't matter whether or not Edwin has your Royal Seal of Approval. Maybe I don't like the redhead you spent the night snogging. So what? Go to sleep, you ass.’” Arthur tells Merlin the night would have been better with Merlin there, “Then bloody well invite me along next time, you git! Honestly, you have no social skills whatsoever, do you? It's not my fault if Kay's crap company. Apparently Kay was who you wanted to hang out with, so you can just suck it up if he's who you ended up stuck with.” Damn fucking straight. YES, MERLIN!!!!

The next day, Merlin has a heartfelt discussion with Gawain that really does sort of tug on the old heartstrings. Merlin tells Gawain that he thinks Gawain was talking about Arthur with the whole, “be careful,” thing. “’Because I think you know something I don't.’ Merlin's eyes narrowed. ��You've known him since you were little kids, haven't you? You know him better than just about anyone. Don't you want to hear my theory?’ ‘Not particularly.’ ‘I think he likes blokes. I think he likes me.’”  Gawain is all, “well duh he likes you! You’re his bestie!” “Oh come on, Gawain! Please, just throw me a sodding bone here! I don't want to hurt him, or mess things up for him – I'm just trying to make sense of all this, because it's killing me, and I think I've understood it now. He does like me back, doesn't he? It's not just me?” That’s pretty damn sad. Gawain pretty much admits it and tells Merlin tough luck because Arthur is going to be king someday so he doesn’t have a choice but to marry a woman and meet certain expectations. Then for some reason Merlin acts like this is brand new information. Merlin says he feels dumb for needing Gawain to explain that and I agree.

“Merlin blinked. ‘I'm sort of seeing someone anyway,’ he said, after a moment. ‘Sort of.’ ‘Well then.’ ‘He's a PostGrad. A medic. He's researching HIV virus particle production. And he's very bendy.’” HE IS ALSO THIRTY. I’m never going to stop bringing that up.

Pictured: Merlin caring for his ancient boyfriend.

Chapter 19

The boys are hanging out when they spot Lady Viva, who is probably a play on Lady Gaga. Kay makes some gross remarks, Merlin tells him so, and for once someone else, Gawain, agrees. Progress!

Later, Lady Viva shows up at Merlin’s dorm. Which is super weird to me because famous people don’t tend to randomly show up at universities to hang out and meet new people. Also, why is she easily able to find out where Arthur lives? What kind of crap security? Anyways, this makes Merlin uncomfortable and he asks if Arthur is expecting her. Which is the right fucking thing to say, “Lady Viva cocked her head to one side, making the feathers jiggle, and the look she gave Merlin made him feel about two inches tall. ‘I'm here to see Arthur,’ she said again, her voice rising dangerously. ‘Not his monkey.’” Damn, what a bitch. I would have closed the door in her face.

Arthur, for once, decides that Merlin doesn’t deserve to be treated like shit, and goes to the door, pretending he has no idea who Lady Viva is. Lady Viva continues to be rude and entitled. Arthur is having none of it and shuts the door in her face. Good job, Arthur.

Sometime later, Arthur comes home, clearly under a spell because he’s all the sudden got the hots for Lady Viva. Merlin knocks Arthur out and calls Morgana, who starts freaking out because they really need to narrow down what Lady Viva did to Arthur. Morgana wonders how Merlin let this happen, “Oh, I don't know – maybe that he already has a host of paid bodyguards, and the protection of the dragon, and somehow he's managed to reach the age of eighteen without me holding his hand 24/7?” You mean the MacUseless the Dragon because, you’re barking up the wrong tree if you expect him to do anything, Merlin.

Merlin calls Edwin and Gaius in for help and while Edwin and Merlin makeout, presumably over Arthur’s unconscious body, Gaius gets help to figure out how to break the spell. “’It would be, but for the fact that it doesn't actually address our main problem. Because this particular working can only be undone one way.’ There was an embarrassed pause. ‘True love's kiss.’” Get ready for a whole lot of awkward and yikes, headed our way, gang.

There’s some subtle slut shaming from Gaius, “Please tell me that despite reports to the contrary he has acquired a secret girlfriend over the past few months? Not just a casual fling, but something heartfelt and enduring? Something with the power to undo this spell? Tell me that there is some young lady somewhere up there who can help us fix this? Because however ineligible she might be, I very much doubt that it can hold a candle to posing for Playboy wearing nothing but a hat made of telephones and a tiny rectangle of crime scene tape stuck to her nether regions, which I understand is the image for which this Lady Viva is best known.”

Mmmm that gif of Colin.

Where were we? Oh yea.

Merlin hangs up with Gaius and fills Edwin in. Edwin picks up on Merlin’s crush in like two seconds.

Merlin runs over to Gwen’s and freaks out, causing her to freak, out and asks her to come with him. She does because she’s understandably worried about Merlin. They get back to the dorm and Gwen sees Arthur, “’Oh my God – did he take some kind of drugs? Because if you're scared, you need to forget about getting in trouble and we need to get him to a doctor now, and worry about trouble later,’ she said, looking suddenly frightened. ‘Is he – oh, God, is he dead?’” Now it might be because it’s 3 in the morning but, “is he- oh, God is he dead?” is making me laugh really hard.

Merlin asks Gwen to kiss Arthur, “’I thought it was Lance you were trying to fix me up with,’ she said, witheringly, planting her hands on her hips. ‘What on earth are you doing? This is creepy. You are both creeping me out, and I do not have to stand for this kind of nonsense.’” I don’t blame her. This situation is really fucking weird from her perspective. She kisses Arthur and then decides to leave because who wouldn’t after that? “’And you're a freak,’ she said, stiffly. ‘I'm going home.’ She marched over to the door and opened it, looking back over her shoulder at Merlin with an expression of baffled frustration. ‘I don't think I even want to know what the hell this was supposed to prove, other than that you are strange and tactless.’” Lol, good one, Gwen.

After Gwen leaves, Merlin realizes that the kiss didn’t work. Oh no! Edwin tells Merlin to kiss Arthur. Merlin does and it’s all very hot and heavy when Arthur starts kissing him back. “’Oh, God, I do love you,’ he said, helplessly, looking at Arthur's tousled hair and his flushed cheeks. ‘I really really do.’” Poor Merlin; this is all going to come crashing down on him soon, but hey, he’s Arthur’s true love. So, there’s that.

The kiss obviously works and then Merlin does about the saddest and meanest thing ever, “’That's good,’ Merlin said, feeling his throat closing up. ‘Just checking.’ And then his eyes went suddenly molten, and he whispered a word against Arthur's skin, and Arthur's face went slack with sleep, and he slumped bonelessly into Merlin's arms. Merlin let himself have a moment just to hold Arthur tightly, squeezing him as if just by doing that he could make everything else stop mattering, and make this much-vaunted 'true love' actually count for something in the real world. He whispered another word, and with that he sponged the memory of the past five minutes out of Arthur's mind.” Taking Arthur’s memory like that was a really bad idea, though I can understand why he did it.

True story: I typed “true love” in the Tumblr gif finder thingy and that above gif popped up. I was looking for the Rumple from OuaT gif of him saying “True love” but I’m going with this one instead.

Edwin is surprisingly nice about the whole thing. EVEN THOUGH HE IS THIRTY.

Chapter 20

This chapter opens with Merlin running into Gwen. Oh man, I hope he comes up with a good explanation. Gwen turns around and goes the other way. Merlin starts chasing her. Like she is literally running away from him and he is chasing her. She lets him catch up to her, “’I don't think I even want to know,’ she said, after a moment. ‘I just – I don't know what games they've got you playing, Merlin, but I thought you were better than that. I mean, nothing would surprise me from Kay, but you? I don't appreciate being used for a joke, or a bet, or whatever that was supposed to be.’ She looked away, her mouth tight. ‘You made me feel – cheap. And stupid. And left out. Don't do it again.’” Poor Gwen. I don’t blame her for feeling that way at all. Being compared to Kay though? Yikes, worst insult ever.

Merlin decides to go for the truth, “’Okay, well – you mustn't tell anyone this, okay? Because it's sort of, well, huge, and I realise it's going to sound a bit weird at first, but it's true. Um. I'm sort of, well, I'm a wizard, basically.’ He swallowed. ‘And what you did yesterday was helping me to break a spell that someone had cast on Arthur. It was really important.’” She doesn’t believe him and I probably wouldn’t either.

Merlin proves it to her by time travelling them to the 1500s which is pretty cool. Merlin then tells Gwen that Morgana is a wizard too, which is a terrible idea but he realizes that as soon as he says it and tells her not to ask him about anyone else. Gwen tells Merlin that his secret is safe with her and thanks him for trusting her, which is really sweet. Aw.  

Later, “’I can't believe you turned her down!’ said Kay, staring at Arthur like he had two heads. ‘I mean, for God's sake – are you a man or a mouse?’” Neither, Kay. Just gay. Kay continues on his gross misogynistic rants and I’m getting so tired of them. It’s gotten old. Like 19 chapters ago, so I’m just kind of skimming this section for my sanity.

We learn that Arthur was tricked into the spell by accepting candy from Lady Viva’s manager.

That’s it for this post. I’m still not clear as to why this whole thing is called Raisin Weekend when it takes place on half of Sunday and Monday morning. Dressing Merlin up as a woman still makes me roll my eyes. I’m never going to get over Edwin being thirty because that shit is so fucking gross; Merlin is 18. He’s practically a child and Edwin is a grown ass man.

I pretty much said all I needed to say about the scene with Morgana and Blanche feeling up Merlin but I think it bears repeating that that shit was not ok. It’s especially frustrating that the scene is portrayed as a comical scene even though Merlin is clearly upset. That’s one of my major issues with the characterization of Kay as well. He says all these gross things; I think that literally almost everything that has come out of his mouth has been disgusting and yet no one ever really says anything to him. Merlin stood up to him a couple of times in chapter 20 and I think Arthur told him to stop like once. It gives off the feeling that what Kay says is acceptable. It’s not. Nothing he says has been ok. You can have a douchebag character in your writing, I’m not necessarily criticizing the inclusion of Kay’s characterization; however, you can portray these things without making them viewed as acceptable or normal behavior. It’s frustrating to read him say these horrible things over and over and over and over and over and over without anything happening. That’s why I pretty much skimmed the majority of chapter 20. Something important to the plot might have happened that I totally missed but I don’t care. You can only beat us over the head with this horrible person and give us the exact same scene with them spouting nonsense so many times before the reader loses interest. Kay is a piece of shit. We get it.

I liked how Gawain was such a good friend to Merlin during this group of chapters. I hope their friendship continues to develop. I also felt bad for Gwen during the whole kissing fiasco and I’m glad Merlin came clean instead of just making up an obvious lie and losing Gwen as his friend forever. Also, how sad was it that Merlin got to finally be honest with Arthur about his feelings and Arthur was honest about his and Merlin made the decision to erase Arthur’s memory? I’m not condoning that decision, which ultimately backfires, because you should never erase someone’s memory without their permission. It’s gross.

Until next time:

[swordarkeereon]

Guest Post: A Kingdom's Fall #horror #newreleases #newfiction

Author Interview

What genre(s) do you write and why?

My work resides in the horror realm and all its subgenres. A gross-out gag, splatterpunk shock, or spine-tingling chill makes us remember we’re alive. And knowing my work makes some people’s genitalia retract into their innards gives me wood.

What was the most difficult part of writing your most recent book?

Finding time to write the third book in The Human-Undead War trilogy proved a chore. I had to decline offers for short story contributions, deny requests to beta read and edit fellow writers’ work, ignore submission calls, and limit my social media presence for about 8 months. With my wife back in school full-time and unpredictable daily work hours at my day job, I was lucky to scrape by with 30 minutes a day for writing. It drove me to the brink of madness!

What do you feel your books offer readers?

An intriguing escape from reality, and a fresh take on vampires. Anyone tired of pussy-ass, sparkly vamps ought to see merit in The Human-Undead War series. I’d love to think I’m revitalizing the genre like Brian Lumley did with his Necroscope series, but sales and exposure beg to differ. Some day, perhaps…

What was the first book you ever had published? How much time did it take from writing your first book to having it published?

The first book was Dark Intentions, Book 1 in The Human-Undead War Trilogy. From concept to publication, it took approximately 8 years. That included some snags in the publishing process (infamous “kerfuffles”) which set me back almost 2 years.

What other careers have you had?

I’ve been a paper boy, grocery bagger, a fast food cook/cashier, pot dealer, phone operator for a taxi company and multiple telemarketing gigs, gas station attendant, obsessive plasma donor, pizza delivery driver, warehouse laborer, and I’ve held management positions at multiple businesses, including my current employer.

Many won’t admit this, but pizza delivery can be quite lucrative. I miss that cash-in-hand every night, and the crazy fucks you meet along the way are great story fodder.

How would you describe yourself if you were “speed dating” your readers?

A chubby bald guy who’s rough around the edges, likes to tease and titillate, and has a dark sense of humor.

Where are you from?

♪In northeastern Iowa, born and raised,

On the farmland is where I spent most of my days…♪

Okay, I’ll stop now. The tune’s stuck in your noggin now, though, isn’t it?

What do you do for fun?

Fun? Sorry, I don’t understand this foreign word. Please translate.

Has your life changed significantly since becoming a published writer?

I think I’m poorer now than I was before I started writing for publication! However, my soul has been enriched. I’ve made tons of awesome, supportive writing-minded friends, a few fans, and a few bucks. It makes up for the constant business expenses (books on hand, business cards, advertisements, bookmarks, contests).

Otherwise, no, not much has changed. I’m still just an introvert peon working for The Man.

Do you work on one project at a time? Or do you multi-task?

I must stay focused on one thing at a time. Multi-tasking often results in more white hairs cropping up on my chin and me needing several Snickers bars to calm the fuck down.

What kind of kid were you? Which social path did you take?

In grade school, I was the fat kid who compensated with comedy, but I was a loner outside of school. I lived on a farm, and even with siblings, I could often be found roaming our land alone, talking to myself and acting out scenes in my head. I usually had my nose crammed into a book’s delicious-smelling spine as well. Once I hit middle school, my introvert side kicked into high gear. Since then, I’ve maintained a small group of core friends and tend to avoid large (or popular) groups of people.

Do you have any pets?

Two cats, Tubba and Target, and a wiener, Spot.

If you could travel anywhere in the world where would you travel?

I took a few years of Spanish in high school, and I loved everything about it. Spain seems like a gorgeous, culturally rich place to visit.

Please tell us 5 miscellaneous facts about yourself.

-I’m a huge advocate for literacy and will drop spare change every time I go to The Dollar General.

-I once popped what I thought was an Ecstasy pill only to discover it was a horse tranquilizer. Good times.

-Nothing turns me on more than a clean, spotless home.

-When I awoke in my cell after being arrested for drunk driving a decade ago, every county inmate hassled me for my extreme overnight snoring.

-I once masturbated 13 times in one day.

Please share with us your future projects and upcoming releases.

A Kingdom’s Fall, the conclusion to The Human-Undead War Trilogy, will be out later this year. I’ll also have a story in VS: Extreme, a charity anthology pitting US against UK horror writers. I was in the inaugural VS last year and took home some accolades, so I hope to defend my title in style this year. David Owain Hughes and I are also co-editing an anthology titled Fuck the Rules, and that should be out late this year or early 2018. It’s our way of throwing up the middle finger to rules while still exposing raw talent and crisp, finely tuned stories.

After that, I don’t know. Time to pursue my writing endeavors has been limited and will continue to be for several more years. I may disappear for a bit. But I’ll be back.

Please share any links you would like listed in the Interview. Website, blog, Facebook, Twitter, Patreon, Instagram etc.

Facebook: www.facebook.com/JondrashekAuthor

Twitter: @jondrashek

Website/Blog: www.jondrashek.com

Instagram: @jondrashek

BRIEF AUTHOR BIO:

Jonathan Edward Ondrashek loves to spew word vomit onto the masses. He’s had an array of poetry, reviews, articles, and interviews published in the past decade. His short stories have appeared in the anthologies Fifty Shades of Slay, Rejected for Content 4: Highway to Hell, Crossroads in the Dark II: Urban Legends, and the highly acclaimed VS: US vs UK Horror. The first two books in The Human-Undead War Trilogy, Dark Intentions and Patriarch, debuted in 2016, along with two co-edited horror anthologies: What Goes Around and Man Behind the Mask. If he isn’t working at his day job, reading, or writing, he’s probably drinking beer and making his wife regret marrying a lunatic. Feel free to stalk him on social media. He loves that shit.

A Kingdom’s Fall (The Human-Undead War Trilogy, Volume 3)

After staking his claim as the rightful Undead patriarch and returning to the United States, Barnaby has sent his followers on missions to eradicate humankind once and for all. He still plots to cast the world into darkness and reign supreme. But to ensure the Undead’s ascent to godhood, he will need to destroy the Human Army and confront his nemesis, Brian Koltz.

However, President Strajowskie understands the stakes involved, and he’s heading to the front line to go all out against Barnaby and his hordes.

Meanwhile, an insurgent army led by the former Undead general, Scott Hammers, approaches Haven. Brian and his people are prepared, but he discovers a traitor in their midst and dark deeds being done against his knowledge. Can he and Haven survive the ensuing battle without being torn apart from within?

As all sides vie for victory, a confrontation between Brian and Barnaby appears inevitable. And both now understand one kingdom must fall if the other is to survive.

BOOK EXCERPT:

“You’re a pilot?” the woman asked.

Lester blushed and ran a hand through his red curls. “Yeah.”

She stared at the center of her shoddy table. Candlelight flickered. Dark bags beneath her eyes devoured her high, protruding cheekbones. “Scar told us wasn’t none of them left,” she said with a slow honey-dipped drawl. “Said no one took to the skies anymore. That’s why he was sailing ‘cross water, before his ship wrecked.”

Lester almost snorted but held his derision in check. Barnaby sure did choose a lame nickname while he was here. He found it unnerving how the Vampirons revered such a devil. Then again, they didn’t know what he was.

Hell, even God doesn’t know what he is.

“Very few still exist,” Roterie said. He meandered away from the humble open-spaced kitchen and plopped onto the chair opposite Mrs. Deekins. He rested his hands behind his head and kicked his feet up. Dirt and sand sprinkled down from the soles of his shoes and cascaded across the table. “That’s why your husband was wise to follow Scar and find us.”

“Well, I can’t thank you enough for coming here and telling me how Zeke’s doing. Me and the kids’ve been worried sick.”

It shows, Lester thought. Mrs. Deekins was bone-thin, though canned goods and somewhat-fresh fruits lined the makeshift countertops inside the kitchen. Grime caked her skin in an oily sheen. Bloodshot, yellowed eyes protruded from their sockets, and her fake fangs jutted out below her upper lip. With thin, frayed hair sticking out at every angle atop her scalp, she looked like a buck-toothed, emaciated vampire hippie.

And the stench was horrendous. The quaint mud hut reeked of rotten eggs, spoiled milk, and decaying meat. Worse still was Mrs. Deekins herself. Even from the front doorway, he could smell the layers of sweat, shit, and piss emanating from her body in sickening droves.

That reminds me. It’s been a week or two since I took a bath, Lester thought, avoiding the urge to sniff his armpits and test his own scent.

[kimium]

So, I wrote a little one off to a fic I posted on AO3 (link to the story is here). You should read the other fic before reading this one off otherwise you’ll be confused.

This oneshot came about after I wrote in a minor character just for the setting and @someobscurereference and I just went on about her. So, everyone, I hope you enjoy this outsider’s perspective of Margaret, Modern AU Owain’s elderly neighbour with her super power of “Being a Grandmother to Every Starving University Student”. 

Or also known as: Elderly Woman who is neighbour to Modern AU Dimension Traveling Owain who, upon seeing his dark mage outfit, is convinced he is doing everything from cosplaying to “LARPing” to “Being a worker at a night club”. 

Story is under the cut! Rating: Teen

NOTE: Margaret is my elderly OC and the story is in her outsider’s perspective.

Margaret liked her apartment complex. It was close to many convenient places, such as the grocery store, bank, bus stops, transit systems, and many other shops. The area was quiet and there was a park just a bit down the road. Parking was located in an underground, secure lot with a gated system. Leaving her house had been, of course, tough, but with Philip now gone for about five years and her children worried about her upkeeping a house Margaret had decided selling and moving to an apartment was the best solution. If there was a down side to the entire situation it was the anticipation she felt when first moving in.

Like all changes, the unknown was a bit daunting and coupled with the strain and stress of moving, Margaret had let the fear get the better of her. She had read up online reviews of the area (with the help of her grandchildren; technology was still a bit foreign to her) and they ranged in the mixed category. Some people praised the convenience while others pointed out many university and college students rented in the area. That meant parties and potentially volatile neighbours. With it being an apartment, Margaret had worried she would have to deal with noise all the time.

So, the day of the move had an extra layer of stress as the moving company helped bring her things up. Her children were already in the apartment helping direct where things went and helping with some unpacking once the company had finished. Margaret, knowing to not strain herself too much, had delegated herself to minor cleaning and staying out of everyone’s way. It was rather difficult; with the space and all the people and Margaret hated sitting still, so she kept walking around when she could and helping out when needed.

It was as she was doing this when she met her neighbour for the first time. The man was young, obviously a university student. His hair was short and brown and his jaw line rather sharp. He stopped immediately upon seeing the moving, looking at the scene, before he walked over to her. Margaret smoothed her shirt out and stood tall. First impressions were everything.

“Hello.” She greeted. “I’m your new neighbour. My name is Margaret Connors.”

The man gave a smile and the warmth radiated across his face. A youthful energy filled him and with calloused hands he raised his out for a handshake, a good proper handshake. Margaret already liked him.

“I’m Owain.” He introduced himself. “I was wondering if you needed any assistance with your move?”

Polite and offering help without a second thought. Margaret beamed. “You’re very kind, Owain. However, I think between my children and the moving company workers, we are fine. Thank you though, for the offer.”

Owain gave a nod. “Very well. If you need any help in the afternoon I’ll be around before heading off to work.”

He then left, heading to the elevator. Margaret briefly watched him for a moment before she directed her attention elsewhere. A smile still lingered on her face. The reviews she had read online felt distant. Her neighbour was a polite young man. Hopefully that politeness translated to no troubles with him. With that in mind, Margaret returned to the tedious and painful task of cleaning and unpacking.

~

When the afternoon rolled around and the moving company was gone, Margaret and her kids (Lily with her husband Ethan and Brent with his wife Tiana) fell into the job of cleaning and more unpacking. The bathroom was the first to be unpacked followed by the kitchen. Margaret was in her bedroom at the same time, doing the basics like making her bed and making sure she had enough clothes out for the next few days. It was as she was finishing up that Margaret heard a knock at her door. It was loud enough that it didn’t matter where she was. Setting her shoes to the side, Margaret bustled over, seeing Lily at the door already. Outside was Owain, holding a small tray of something.

“…and I just thought…” Owain’s voice trailed in before he saw Margaret. “Oh, hello, Margaret.” He smiled. “I was visiting my cousin this morning and she gave me so many cookies that I thought I could share some with you?”

How sweet of him. Margaret tried to not coo at the gesture. Instead she waved him in. “Please, be mindful of the boxes, but make yourself at home. I think we all deserve a break.”

Owain carefully walked in and went to the kitchen, setting the cookies on the counter. Margaret bustled in, already trying to feel familiar with the space, and filled a kettle. “I hope you like tea. I can’t drink coffee any more. Too much caffeine.”

“Tea is fine.’ Owain replied. “Here, let me help you.”

Tea was made a moment later and they were all sitting at the table with the cookies in the middle. Owain was polite and waited until everyone had their tea before taking a sip. It was such a sweet gesture.

“So, tell me a bit about yourself.” Margaret said.

“Uh, well, I’m just a regular university student. So far, just general classes.” Owain said. “I also work occasionally for my uncle.”

“Oh?” Margaret prompted. “What does your uncle do?”

“He runs The Shepherds Organization.” Owain replied.

Margaret paused. She knew about them. “My church donates to them frequently. Does your uncle just work for the organization?”

“Uh… sort of.” Owain absentmindedly replied. “Say, where did you move from?”

The conversation derailed into the moving process and by the time they finished that the tea was done and the cookies half gone. Owain allowed them to keep the rest and with a wave, left. Margaret smiled to herself and cleaned up the dishes.

“He seems like a nice man, mom.” Lily said as she helped.

“I’m glad.” Brent added. “Hopefully there are no problems.”

“Yes.” Margaret agreed with her kids. “I hope so too.”

~

It was a week later when Margaret saw Owain again. By this time, she had unpacked majority of her things and had settled into her routine. She had church of course, on Sundays, but then other tasks, like her aqua fit class on Tuesday in the morning, her book club on Thursday in the evening, and daily walks through the day. She also had knitting at home, when she wasn’t out an about. Plus, with her calendar filling up (the grandkids wanted to visit her as well as some friends) Margaret had almost forgotten about her neighbour until she saw him again.

She had been out grocery shopping, just buying some basics. Owain had walked in just as she was waiting at the elevator. He was yawning, his hair a bit damp and his eyes drooping. Owain’s clothes were wrinkled and a bit messy, like he had changed and crumpled up his clothes. He also smelt a bit off. Not in a bad way, but in a stale way that indicated he had been out all night. Margaret offered him a smile and didn’t say anything in case he was too tired to make small talk. Shifting the bags in her arms, Margaret watched the light descending until it hit the “M” marking main floor. Toddling in, Margaret waited, holding the door for Owain. He was just standing there blankly, eyes gazed over. Anyone else might have felt annoyance or just let the door shut, but Margaret held the door firmly and called out.

“Owain, the elevator’s here.”

He didn’t respond immediately, instead he sluggishly came to life, his eyes registering her words in a languid manner. It was as though being called by his name was something he had to grow accustomed to again. The elevator starting to make a small beep, like it was irritated that it was being held for so long. That sound snapped Owain into action and soon he was racing inside, face flushed.

“My most sincere apologies, Lady Margaret.” Owain blurted out. “I was merely lost in thought, my mind wandering into the forest of my memories.”

That was rather poetic. Margaret held back a comment and instead noted the circles under Owain’s eyes. His skin looked pale upon closer inspection like he hadn’t been sleeping well, and the wrinkles in his clothes more pronounced. Margaret knew that she had only talked properly to Owain once and that it was probably over stepping her boundaries, but she couldn’t just stand here and watch a poor university student suffer. He was probably pushing himself too hard. It was midterm season soon. Between studying and classes Margaret was certain Owain hadn’t rested or eaten a proper meal in a while. With that in mind, Margaret steeled herself. Worst that could happen was Owain thinking she was a too kind old woman. If being too kind was the worst she could be seen as, Margaret would take it.

“Have you been sleeping well, Owain?” She asked.

Out of the corner of her eye, Margaret saw Owain flinch. “Yes.” He steadily replied, like he was merely reciting from a script.

“It’s rather late.” Margaret pointed out carefully. “It’s why I rushed out to buy groceries. I wanted to buy some things before the store closed. Imagine my surprise when I noticed I had barely any vegetables in my fridge.”

“That is rather vexing.” Owain muttered.

“I made a lovely chicken casserole and some homemade bread but then after I finished my meal I realised I had eaten the last of my vegetables. You need a proper diet after all.” Margaret continued.

Owain nodded and the elevator dinged, signalling they were at their floor. Owain started to move towards his room when Margaret decided to just come out and offer. It was clear Owain wasn’t taking care of himself and while she certainly wasn’t his mother, she couldn’t help herself.

“Have a shower and wash up,” She told Owain, “and when you’re done come to my place and have some of my chicken casserole. I’ll warm up the bread and cook some vegetables for you too.”

Owain stopped, frozen in place, before he turned. His cheeks were flushed, red painted high on his face. He swallowed thickly, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he settled on just staring. Margaret waited a moment, not prompting him to answer. Owain then cleared his throat.

“Uh… that’s very kind of you, but I don’t want to impose…”

“Nonsense.” Margaret smacked that idea down. “I insist. You’re working too hard. In fact, if you’re not at my place within half an hour I’ll come over and knock on your door until you answer.”

Owain blinked multiple times before he nodded, “I will not be tardy.” He told her seriously before he disappeared into his apartment.

Margaret smiled to herself and bustled quickly to her door, unlocking it. The vegetables wouldn’t take long to cook, but she could chop them up and then have the minor bit of prep done. The casserole warmed up best in the oven, so she immediately turned it on a lower temperature and dished a large proportion into one of her oven safe containers and put it into the oven. She then waited, counting the minutes. When it was closer to the time for Owain to arrive, she put the vegetables on, simply boiling them and sliced the bread thickly.

When the thirty minutes was up, a firm knock came at her door. Margaret smiled and went to open it. Owain was showered, his hair damp and his clothes changed into comfortable clean looking clothes. He sheepishly grinned and stepped inside. In his arms was an unmarked bottle of something.

“You didn’t need to bring anything over.” Margaret scolded.

“It would be most rude to not.” Owain told her. “I picked this up around town. I know this old man that brews his own wine. This is a sweeter variety and I received it after helping out around his shop one day. If you don’t drink I do have a non alcoholic bottle he also gifted me.”

“I can handle a glass or two.” Margaret told him with a smile. “Now, come on in. The food is almost done. Do you want your bread toasted?”

Owain sat down at the table and nodded. “Yes, please.”

As Margaret put the bread into the toaster, Owain opened the bottle. It appeared he had brought his own bottle open over, which was ridiculous considering Margaret had her own, but the thought was appreciated. She then grabbed two wine glasses and set them on the table. Owain poured the wine and it was so red it almost looked purple. He then offered one of the glasses to her before sipping some of his own. Margaret took a sip and stopped. It was sweet, but also crisp and cold. It was unlike any wine she had ever tasted. There was something almost magical about it.

“Do you like it?” Owain asked.

“I do.” Margaret honestly replied.

The toast popped out and Margaret set her glass down and busied herself in buttering the toast and bringing over the casserole and vegetables for Owain. Thanking her for the meal, Owain then began to eat. Margaret sat down across from him and sipped her wine again.

“Do you like it?” She asked.

“I do.” Owain replied with a smile on his tired face.

~

The months passed and Margaret saw Owain on and off. Sometimes he was racing out of his apartment, book bag slung over his shoulder and sometimes he was absent for weeks. He had left the bottle of wine for her and Margaret had already finished it, not wanting it to sit opened for too long. For the week it sat out waiting to be recycled every time she saw it Margaret was reminded of Owain.

Her life still continued in its patterns. Margaret discovered new classes to replace classes that finished and made new friends, especially with some people in her building. Getting out and busy was what kept Margaret going. Sometimes she’d still wonder if Owain was fine and not over working himself. It was with those thoughts that she accidentally brought him up during a card game night at Anne’s place, a woman that lived a couple floors down from her.

“Oh, Owain…” Anne mused as she drew a card. “Dirty blond haired kid, right?”

“Yes.” Margaret was surprised. It was rare for people to know each other in complexes so huge, especially so many floors down.

“He’s a good kid.” Anne said. “Shame he has to work at clubs to make a living.”

Margaret paused and blinked. “Pardon me?”

“Oh, you know.” Anne’s voice grew softer, filled with pity. “I’ve seen him return back here in an outfit that shows off… well his chest and torso very well. I’m not judging him.” Anne added hastily, filled with pity. “I just can’t help but feel sorry.”

Sorry. Margaret savoured the word and set a card down. While she certainly knew the world was always changing and certain things were more widely talked about, Margaret couldn’t help but wonder if it was really true. Was that the reason why Owain was so exhausted? Was he working nights at some club? Maybe he worked in the evening and then afterwards tried to study? That would explain his odd hours. It would also explain why he always was out the door so early in the morning. The poor boy was probably going to school during the day, working in the evenings, and studying at night. Margaret kept the thoughts in the back of her mind all through the evening, even after she left Anne’s place and was back in bed.

The next morning, way too early, Margaret woke to a crash and mild swearing in the hallway. She groggily rubbed her eyes. It was rare for someone to be loud in the hallway especially at odd hours. Perhaps… it was Owain? Despite herself and despite knowing that it was rude to eavesdrop, Margaret carefully got out of bed and padded to her front door.

“…I didn’t lose my keys.” That was Owain.

“Really? Then, where are they?” A voice asked. It was female.

Margaret swallowed. Despite herself she couldn’t help but think of Anne’s words about Owain working at a club. Maybe… he had been working more and was bringing a… girl home…

“… probably stuffed in one of his massive pockets.” It was another voice, a male.

Oh… Margaret knew she was jumping to conclusions, but with Anne’s words Margaret’s brain overloaded. Of course, the world was changing in many ways and being open minded was something Margaret always strived to have. If Owain was bringing both a guy and girl home at the same time… that wasn’t her business. Unless they hurt Owain. Margaret had only interacted with Owain a total of two times but she felt fiercely protective, like a grandmother would feel.

Stepping away from the door, Margaret forced herself to return to her room. She sat back down on her bed, brain asking her to sleep but also too wired to fall back. Who Owain associated himself with wasn’t her business. Margaret lay back down and closed her eyes. Sleep came slowly.

~

Margaret didn’t see the outfit Anne claimed to see Owain in until about a month after Owain had brought the girl and guy home. It was in passing too. Margaret had finished her early morning aqua fit class and was just entering her apartment when she saw Owain step out of the elevator. The outfit was yellow, black, and grey. There was a belt around his hips with some pouches that looked like they were stuffed with scrolls. A cape was also around his shoulders and a circlet on his head. He hadn’t spotted her, but as he moved Margaret saw a heavy looking tome in his hand as well as a small glitter of something metal. However, true to what Anne had said, the outfit was showing a generous amount of his bare chest and torso. She then hurried inside, less she be caught staring at the get up.

That outfit didn’t look like anything Margaret had… associated with clubs, but what did she know? Margaret put her bag away and rinsed her swimsuit out, hanging it over her shower, before she went to her laptop. It was a gift from her kids and her grandkids had shown her how to use it. Margaret wasn’t the best with some things, but she ran an internet search, asking about people wearing outfits in public. Her results ranged from something called “cosplay” to “LARPing” (both terms she was unfamiliar with and had to search up separately). From what Margaret gathered, Owain was more likely involved with costume making and acting communities than… night clubs. Then again… Margaret didn’t know what exactly made up a night club. Maybe some night clubs catered to people who liked dressing up? Margaret wasn’t going to judge. Who cared what Owain did so long as he wasn’t hurting others or himself. He was a good kid and Margaret knew he was simply trying to make a living.

Shutting her computer, Margaret vowed that the next time she saw Owain she’d show him she was an open minded woman. Maybe he faced some complications with his lifestyle from others. She wasn’t going to draw assumptions but being open minded was always a good thing.

~

Her opportunity presented itself rather early the following day. Margaret was once again heading out when she saw Owain just locking his door. He froze with the key in his hand. He was in the outfit Margaret had seen him in the night before, making the conversation easy to start.

“Good morning Owain.” Margaret cheerfully said. “I like your outfit.”

Owain spluttered. “I… thank you?” He sounded confused.

“Did you make it yourself?” Margaret asked carefully, remembering what her research on “cosplay” had yielded.

“Uh… no… I didn’t.” Owain replied slowly, like he was calculating the conversation. “I… I’m a Drama student.” He suddenly added, like simply answering her question wasn’t enough. He had to explain himself. “I’m just going out to practice for a piece from one of my classes.”

Was that the truth or was that Owain just covering up the truth? Margaret didn’t care. It was important that Owain was volunteering information. It showed a level of comfort, or at least, Margaret hoped.

“Is it for a…” what was the term… “Lapping event?” Margaret thought she got the term right.

Owain spluttered, his face red. “Uh… no… not for a… Lapping event…”

Again, was that the truth or was that Owain covering it? Margaret didn’t care. She beamed and then remembered they were standing in the hallway without pushing the elevator’s button.

“Oops, here I am, babbling and we haven’t even pushed the button.” Margaret went to do that.

“That’s fine.” Owain muttered, fidgeting.

The elevator arrived and their decent down to the main floor was silent. Margaret let Owain out first and then watched as he quickly walked out front to a car parked in the loading zone. Inside the care were two people, a girl and guy that looked around Owain’s age. Perhaps… those were the people Owain had brought over that one time? Margaret only saw a flash of red hair and something shiny before the car went off.

Margaret stared at where the car had been. Owain was clearly on good terms with the two and that made her happy. Tucking that thought away, Margaret left the building and continued on her day.

~

The day was raining and Margaret was happy she had her umbrella. Hustling over from the bus stop, Margaret turned the corner carefully (she didn’t want to slip) when she saw Owain, standing outside, holding his side. He was breathing heavily, staring at the apartment building, like he was unsure if he should enter or not. He was also wearing that outfit again. Margaret slowly walked over. He was standing in the rain, dripping wet, with no umbrella or jacket. Offering her umbrella, Margaret shielded him. Owain nearly jumped and turned sharply.

It was then Margaret saw it. His side was slightly purple, like a bruise. His cheek had a bandage on it and there were a few nicks and cuts. Margaret stared, feeling something well up inside of her. Owain was injured and those didn’t look accidental.

“How did you get that.” She didn’t ask so much as demand and answer.

Owain’s eyes widened. Margaret’s mind raced with possibilities. Maybe someone at the club (still not confirmed if it was true) hurt him. Maybe on his way back someone tried to mug him. Sure, their neighbourhood was safe, but someone only had to be out wanting to cause pain and then the wrong place at the right time falling upon some innocent victim. Or what if Owain was seeing someone and they thought it was okay to… Margaret paled.

“I…” Owain gaped. “It was my fault. I swear. I know what this looks like. I was careless at work. I slipped and fell down an entire flight of stairs.”

That sounded like an excuse. “Are you telling me the truth?” Margaret asked firmly.

“I…” Owain opened his mouth. “Yes. I am. I promise.” His eyes were clear. “Now, let’s go inside? I’m sorry. I’m causing you to get drenched out here.”

Margaret hadn’t even noticed. She huffed and then tugged Owain with her to the building, opening the front door. “I have some lasagna and salad. You’re cleaning up and we’re eating a late dinner.”

“I…” Owain started.

“No arguing.” Margaret firmly told him.

“Right. Sorry.” Owain smiled softly.

Their ride back up to the apartment was silent and when they parted, Margaret knew Owain would come to her door. She busied herself in preparing the table for two. When the knock came at her door, Margaret opened it. There, standing in a baggy shirt and sweat pants was Owain. He had another bottle of wine, unmarked.

“Go on, have a seat. This should be done soon.” Margaret told him.

“Thanks.” Owain stepped inside.

Margaret turned to check on the lasagna heating up when she remembered the bottle. Owain didn’t appear to have a bottle opener and she had forgotten. Flushing, Margaret opened her drawer and pulled her bottle opener out.

“I’m sorry.” Margaret turned around. “I…” The bottle was open. Margaret stared for a second. “How did you open that?”

“Magic.” Owain replied with a cheeky smile.

Despite herself, Margaret laughed at the ridiculous answer. “Of course.” She must have imagined the bottle wasn’t already opened. Maybe Owain had it open and just had a reusable cork or something.

“So, are you sure you’re fine?” She asked.

“Yes, I used some healing magic to heal the bruise.” Owain replied calmly.

“You…” Margaret laughed. “Fine, where did you learn this magic?”

“It was gifted unto me by a dragon.” Owain answered.

What a unique mind. “Do you enjoy fantasy stories?”

“I do.” Owain said with a laugh. “New worlds are scary but fun to explore.”

Margaret smiled. Maybe this was part of that “Lapping” thing she had read about all those months ago. Maybe that was what Owain enjoyed and he was just in character for her. That’s what one of the sites had said. Maybe that’s all Owain did when he went out and that guy and girl from before were part of it too. Or it could be part of some sort of “themed” club. If Margaret was being honest, that was a strong contender for the truth. She wished she could tell him there was nothing wrong with him stripping for a living, but that was an awkward conversation to bring up. So, Margaret just kept that thought to herself.

“I agree. Fantasy books are very fun to read.” Margaret said before she took the lasagna out of the oven carefully. “Now, let’s eat.”

“Thank you.” Owain said once again.

The meal tasted delicious and the wine was just the same, if not better, than Margaret remembered.

~

Their friendship was odd. Margaret was sure most people wouldn’t expect it, with her being a widowed woman and Owain a young university man, but Margaret enjoyed their friendship. It happened in spontaneous bursts but it felt like fate was always bringing them together at the right moments.

The next time she saw Owain, he was in his outfit and looked like he had fallen into a lake. His cheeks were flushed and he was holding the hand of someone Margaret had never seen before. Even though she had only caught a glimpse of the two people in the car that one day, this man wasn’t one of them.

For starters, his hair was white and mid length. He also had an eyepatch. Margaret wasn’t sure if it was real or if he was someone from Owain’s work. He had a single clear blue eye that if Margaret didn’t know any better, was radiating a sense of loss. It was almost like he was uncomfortable with their very surroundings, but not Owain.

“Hello… Mrs. Connors.” Oh my. She had never told him to call her that, but then again, perhaps he was simply being polite in front of his guest.

“Owain…” Margaret cheerfully said. “Out… what’s it these kids call it these days? Lapping?”

“Uh… no.” Owain quickly said, cheeks a bit pink. “I was… acting… for a school project.”

“I see.” Again, Margaret was sure Owain had been out working at the club. Perhaps his guest also did? Or he was… a customer? Then again, with the closeness Owain was exhibiting with the man perhaps they were… dating?

“And this is?” Margaret still asked because if this young man was Owain’s boyfriend she had to admit he had chosen well.

However, instead of Owain answering the man answered. His voice was husky and low, silky and smooth.

“Just visiting.” He curtly said. “We best be off.”

Owain flushed a bit more and Margaret suddenly caught onto the situation. No wonder Owain was being polite. He was embarrassed. She had definitely caught him with someone he liked or was his boyfriend. This changed everything. Margaret needed to let Owain know she wasn’t going to be rude though she couldn’t help but tease just a touch.

“I understand. Oh, to be young.” She gave a wink, just to tease before she bustled over to the elevator, hitting the button. “I’ll leave your youngsters alone. Just realised I forgot to buy some milk.” She added for explanation. It was the truth.

Owain didn’t say anything and the doors to the elevator opened with ease as expected with Owain and his guest just arriving on the floor. Margaret then got into the elevator and winked at Owain. Hopefully things went well and she hadn’t killed any moods. Smiling, Margaret walked to the local corner store. She wanted to take her time, give Owain some privacy, so instead of going into the corner store she walked a bit down to a local 24 hour coffee shop and stepped inside. Ordering herbal tea, Margaret sat down and sipped it. When she finished she’d buy milk and return to her apartment. Maybe in the morning, if Owain wasn’t too embarrassed, she’d offer breakfast. After all, she suspected Owain didn’t have a lot of groceries and breakfast was a great way to start the day. Plus, that way she could meet Owain’s guest properly. If they were fine with it.

Smiling Margaret took a sip of her tea and wondered what she should make in the morning.