#if we can draft better on defense and o-line...

[cementcornfield]

Draft Thoughts

okay, a week (and a day) out from the draft and i feel like rambling about it. this is only my second year paying attention in the offseason so, you know, grain of salt!

so the conventional wisdom is that you should always draft players, not positions. you shouldn't corner yourself into having to reach for a player that isn't as good because you need that position, versus getting an amazing player at a position that would just be a luxury (for example, if somehow jeanty falls to us at 17 and we don't grab him because we want a guard or something).

perhaps someone should tell the bengals that though, or, maybe they have and the katie and duke just rolled their eyes are assured whoever told them that actually they are MUCH smarter than you, we know what we're doing (not spending enough in FA and then having to draft for need thus practically guaranteeing reaching/taking risky picks) and then they wonder why their drafts go so poorly 🙃

but what's fun about this year is we have SO MANY needs that in a way, we /can/ draft best player available because more than likely, we need whatever position that player is (unless they're a QB or WR lol). so maybe it /does/ work out this time?? that's my glass half full take at least!!

here are some scenarios i'd be happy with:

R1 pick 17: i want us to start with a DT. we need interior pass rush because we have NOTHING right now. literally nothing. and some people don't think it's a need because last year we drafted both jenkins and jackson, and paid BJ and TJ this offseason. which is fair, BUT those are all run blockers/stuffers. they stop the run, they're all either bad to terrible at affecting the passer in anyway. (plus, it's not like the new DC drafted jenkins and jackson last year, maybe he wants to get his own guy??) and if we want a true game changer on our defense, i think it starts here. more pass rush means less time for lamar/patrick/josh/jayden to just hang around the pocket for years while our DBs eventually lose their coverage battles (because who can cover for 12 fucking seconds??). and if we want that game changer, i think we need to do it in the first round, second round at the absolute latest. while it IS a deep DT class, there aren't a lot of pass rushing game wreckers that will last that long.

i'd be happy with either walter nolen or derrick harmon here. leaning slightly towards nolen. both aren't perfect (nolen went to a few different high schools/colleges which is a bit of a red flag, but his explanations check out to me. while harmon is big and disruptive but isn't the best tackler).

and honestly that seems to be what all the whisperings from my beat guys indicate?? almost every prediction the last few weeks has been that we'll grab one of them, and these guys all have their ears to the ground at paycor 👀

however, i also wouldn't be at all mad (in fact i'd be thrilled) if we got a premium guard at 17 like kelvin banks. or one of the top safeties - starks or emmanwori just because that's also a position of need, and pretty top heavy (but i feel like we can still get a decent safety later on). i've also heard people wanting edge here but tbh i don't like any of the edge guys projected for R1 and there's good depth here. plus trey IS coming back (i KNOW IT), and while i don't have the most faith in myles, i can allow myself to believe his brother on twitter that Actually he'll be good this year (lol). and joseph ossai is someone i've always thought was better than how lou used him!

R2 pick 49: this is where i want us to get a guard. and i'm so serious if we wait past this round i'm losing my fucking mind on here in front of all of you (not that i haven't done this before!) we've been meeting with a lot of guards that are projected to go in this round, so it seems like the bengals are on the same page. a few guys who could apparently start day 1 that i like: jonah savaiinaea, donovan jackson, and tate rateledge. all of them are strong in pass protection (and decent at least against the run) which, is obviously what we need for a QB like joe. savaiinea and jackson have position versatility in that they could also potentially play tackle for us if needed. rateledge might be able to do that too, but he's only got experience at guard so it wouldn't be as seamless as the other two. but what he DOES have in his favor is that he played right next to amarius at georgia for a few years, so that chemistry is already established which could be huge. (he also has a beautiful mullet). i'd be happy with any of these guys if they fall to us, leaning tate rateledge if only for the vibes, but again, satisfied with any of them.

if however we get a guard like banks in the first round, then this is where i feel like we'd need to grab the best pass rusher available, which, if the board falls our way, could be TJ Sanders. great college production, versatile, but just not quite as polished as the two i like in the first round.

as for R3-R6 (keep in mind that, at this time, unless we somehow wrangle up a decent trade back, we don't have a 7th round pick 🥲) i'm less picky. especially because i can't really know what i want here until we see R1-R2. but i'll be feeling so much better if we nail that interior pass rush and pass protection. then i feel like we honestly could be free to just do best defensive player available. we definitely need safety help. we definitely need linebacker help. those positions are typically drafted in this range. and while they probably wouldn't be instant starters, we should be able to find at least some higher floor rotational guys.

i will say that paul dehner has convinced me i want a runningback in round 5. apparently that's the sweet spot for a loaded RB class this year, so i 'll take one! i haven't done any research on individuals though, but like, RB has one of the highest rookie year success rates. i'm sure we can find someone to be RB2 between chase and samaje (who. bless his heart. i love him. but he's gotta be RB3).

if y'all wanna do some more research in the upcoming week, i HIGHLY recommend this spreadsheet made by joe goodberry and a few other guys. a lot of great data in there and he's got great further analysis on his twitter/youtube channel.

you could also keep an eye on the locked on bengals guys (on youtube and twitter) and paul dehner's youtube channel and his draft series in the athletic. they've got good analysis too AND 100% have sources on the inside because they have gotten very very good at predicting who the bengals are going for (nailed mims last year, and thus /i/ nailed mims last year 🔥)

would love to hear all of your thoughts too if you wanna share!

[realtapiocafan]

the one thing that’s giving me hope is that unlike lou al golden has made it very clear that actually playing the young guys and developing them is the priority (and he’s really good at developing!!) so im choosing to be cautiously optimistic just off that alone 🙂‍↕️

there is hope!

shemar has upside! he has a first round grade by most analysts for a reason! i feel like most twitter users were crashing out and acting like he was just standing around the field lol, when that's not the case. the critique isn't that he can't pass rush -he can, he had almost 40 pressures last year! the criticism is that he can't finish. he can get to the qb -he just can't bring the qb down. which is a problem ofc (a major one in fact), but there's a foundation there and it's very, very possible to develop those pressures into sacks. it's not insane to think that he can't be a very good player for us.

and maybe most importantly (something that the growler podcast pointed out), shemar had consistent pressures in every game. this wasn't him feeding off the college version of the raiders and the browns (no offense to trey, he was fucking excellent, don't get me wrong -but he did get some of those sacks beating up on bad teams) (please don't kill me for this take, i say wincing). anyways! shemar (at least in college) has proven that he can get consistent pressure on the quarterback, no matter the team. for whatever reason (the texas a&m defense is WEIRD man), it didn't result in sacks. can we teach him how to turn those pressures into sacks? well, almost 40 pressures is a hell of a way to start.

but to develop him into someone who can sack, i agree that shemar HAS to play, preferably start. and myles! throw both of them into the deep end. we need to see whether shemar's capable of turning some of those pressures into actual sacks and well, EVERYTHING that myles is capable of.

like, i know we need to start winning in september and playing rookies a bunch isn't exactly conductive to success, BUTTT the eagles last year played their rookies a bunch in the beginning of the year. and they struggled. at one point, they were 2-2. but when they got to the playoffs, the rookies were already experienced. they knew what to do. i don't think the eagles win without their rookies stepping up, and the rookies only stepped up, because they were played so much earlier in the year. so to even come close to what the eagles have managed to do -pay their offense, draft their defense- we got to play our rookies early and take the gamble that it'll pay off in december/january like it did for the eagles. hopefully (🤞) al will do that.

and also considering the other available options at seventeen: it was basically either shemar, harmon, campbell, emmanwori, or starks. me personally, i'm pretty sure something about campbell and harmon's medicals scared them off (maybe harmon's missed tackles too). considering how they double-dipped at lb, it's pretty clear that they saw lb as a huge need and it makes it even more startling that they really must've not been confident campbell could be healthy enough. and idl is obviously a need (STILL a need actually), so the decision to pass on harmon doesn't make much sense to me unless the bengals either were wary of his medicals or tackling. or just believed more in shemar, that's also a possibility. and for the safeties, it was always unlikely we were going to take them, unless all three of those guys were gone. MY POINT HERE (sorry i got sidetracked rambling): the upside of shemar is that, barring unfortunate events (knocking on wood here), shemar will be on the field for the bengals. availability is the best ability and all that.

and finally, if i may interject a Hot Take here (been listening to so many podcasts recently lol, it's kinda rubbing off on me): we don't /need/ shemar to reach his ceiling - as many have said, this is basically our sam hubbard replacement. everyone says this guy has an insanely high ceiling, but i don't think the team even needs him to reach that. we just need him to be better than 2024 sam. that's all the team's asking. and we shouldn't expect a great defense, because we're not getting one, but as long as he's better than 2024 sam (which no offense to sam, but it's a pretty low bar), shemar isn't a bad pick.

[sergeifyodorov]

hmm i was scrolling through Twitter earlier and as the designated leafs blog in my mind, what are your thoughts on fraser minten? like he’s so interesting to me because in the narrative i’ve created of him he was tavares’ fifth child but then was our balanced by knies being better, but then wjc happened and he still couldn’t crack it. now he’s on the blades (one of the best whl teams i think??) very interesting

NARRATIVELY he's definitely The Tavares Child -- okayyyy so. Sew. this New Generation of leafs (imho starting at Knies and including Easton Cowan as well as minten) kind of... each parallel a member of the Core: Knies is Auston's child (Arizona boy, big strong forward), Cowan is Mitch's child (London Knight, small winger with endless energy) and Minten is JT's child (Captain anywhere he goes, known for maturity and intelligence)... william child + morgan child ->

anyHWAY the real life scouting report under the cut (not too long i don't think)

Minten's a high second-rounder, which is the type of player that's generally designated as an "upper maybe" NHLer -- by which I mean odds-on he'll get NHL games (as Mints has) but it's less likely he'll become a serious full-time player (although many a second-rounder can and does do so!) The most interesting thing about his draft position was that the Leafs, under Kyle Dubas, traded DOWN to get him -- we had a low first-rounder, then traded it to Chicago to get rid of the Mrazek contract and got the pick that would become Mints in return. Many a source says that Kyle wanted Mints anyway and would have taken him with the first-round pick.

The general consensus is that Mints tops out as a middle-six centre, a 3C on a good team or a 2C on a worse one (or a 1C on the Boston Bruins.) His ceiling is probably about 40 or 50 points, maybe more depending on how much power-play usage he gets.

However, it's also noted (and was pretty obvious to me, even watching him at the WJC -- which I'll get to in a second!) that his real value is not and will likely never be in point production. He's a natural centre, good-to-great at faceoffs (a skill that he learned in part from JT!!) and very good defensively. Because he's still a kid, plays a bit physically and tends to be involved in the play at both ends, he probably takes a few too many undisciplined stick infractions, but these things of course can be straightened out with time and wisdom. Also, he's a touch of a personality hire: he was the youngest A on the all-timer Kamloops Blazers last year and was pretty much immediately named C after the Leafs sent him home this year; he was named captain of the CANADIAN WORLD JUNIORS team with zero other experience playing for Canada on the national level. He plays the piano! He's smart, polite, doesn't cause a fuss, wise beyond his years. Takes a guy far.

Anyway, the WJC: just an absolute hackjob by the coach and one of those years that really demonstrates that Hockey Canada still thinks it can get ahead by being Canada (the ol' throw bodies at the wall shtick) and not, like, because of its actual quality of development. I think bowing out when they did was a bit unlucky, but they absolutely were NOT primed to win it all -- especially because the coach basically seemed to have no concept of... line construction? or anything of the sort? Like he just tossed players together from a hat once (1) and decided they were just going to play out the tourney like that -- no real concept of "x is the playmaker, y is the shooter, z is the forechecker" or "these three are the transition line that take d-zone draws and use their speed to create rush chances/o-zone draws" or even something so simple as "this defensively-minded, slower centre is perhaps not the best match for the winger notorious for being opportunistic and shooty." Also, not to put too fine a point on it but a player can have a bad WJC and it doesn't mean anything, or a good WJC and it also doesn't mean anything -- Jesse Puljujarvi rose his draft stock by a good chunk in 2016 by having a FANTASTIC WJC, and he's currently on an AHL tryout. It's a small sample size, mostly played with teammates they barely know and against competition about a half-step up from what they're used to. Weird statlines happen.

Back to MINTS because we're still talking about him. Yess currently he's on the Blades -- traded from the Blazers because the Blazers are garbage and they want to Do Right By The Player and put him on a competitive team (done for two reasons: one, because it can be demoralizing to be the best player on a bad team, and two, because being on a good team in juniors often means you get actually good-for-your-development linemates and usage). He was generally not expected to make the Leafs at ALL this season (I mean, 20-year-old second-rounder, right?) and cracking the roster out of camp, even though he only got three games and has a rather blank statline is SUPER impressive. I'm pretty sure this is his last year of CHL eligibility, after which he'll probably either get put on the Marlies for a year to keep cooking or he'll make the Leafs again and stick around. Either way, he's slid twice I think so we burn a year of his ELC.

and my opinion of the boy? I love him. Let's go baby leafs baby leafs forevar

[justjarminsports]

Highlights and Lowlights from Preseason Week 2

by; BenJarmin Munguia

date; August 19th, 2024

Week 2 is in the books; we get to see who had some excellent highlights and bad lowlights. How to make the list, and who didn't cut 

*********Highlights***********

Chicago Bears 

The Bears routed the Bengals this past weekend, 27-3, and it wasn't even close. Bears quarterback Caleb Williams and Tyler Badgent had a field day in Chicago. Williams rushed for a touchdown, while Badgnet completed seven of his eight pass attempts for two touchdowns. Wide receiver Donte Petis caught both touchdowns from Badgent while torching the Bengal's secondary. 

The Bears defense also stomped on the Bengals' parade. Three sacks and two interceptions while holding the Cincinnati Bengals to a lonely field goal helped secure the Bears a 3-0 preseason record. Chicago's defensive end, Daniel Hardy, leads the league with 3.5 sacks. 

Williams has been so hyped about this Bears team that we are not looking at how good this defense has been this preseason. There have been 11 sacks, 3 interceptions, and 2 forced fumbles. It makes me wonder why this defense is not getting talked about.

Bo Nix

Denver Broncos torched the Green Bay Packers 27-2 (Yes, the Packers only scored 2 points)

The Broncos quarterback Bo Nix led the Broncos to two scoring drives, completing 8 of his 9 passes for 80 yards and a touchdown, which tight end Tim Patrick caught.  Leading Denver to a 10-0 lead before he was done for the night. 

Nix has led the Broncos to every scoring drive this preseason except when tight end Lucas Krull fumbled a catch in Week 1 preseason game vs the Colts. There is something special about the name Nix.

Colts Running Backs 

If you were a running back for the Colts on Saturday night. You were the MVP. The Indianapolis Colts ran the Arizona Cardinals out of town with 166 rushing yards and 3 touchdowns.  The Colts took control of the clock for 34 minutes and ran the ball 37 times, beating the Red Birds 21-13. Both running backs Zavier Scott and Tyler Goodson combine for 90 yards on 17 carries and two touchdowns. 

******LOWLIGHTS*******

Daniel Jones 

New York Giants Quarterback Daniel Jones played his first game since tearing his ACL last season, and everyone expected Jones to play……Well, you know……

Jones struggled against the Houston Texans' defense, throwing two interceptions, one of which was returned for a touchdown by Texans cornerback Jalen Petrie. Jones had a really nice pass to wide receiver Darius Slayton, but it didn't erase turnovers. Now, remember, Jones signed a four-year $160 million contract extension after his only "decent" year at quarterback.

Steelers O-line.

It's nice to have two very mobile quarterbacks, but when you can go through an O-Line like water, those quarterbacks will be running for their lives. Wilson was sacked 3 times and completed 8 passes for …..47 yards. That's 5 yards per completion, and quarterback Justin Fields was sacked as well, but was sacked 3 times last week vs the Houston Texans. Steelers could only put up one field goal on the board in Pittsburgh. Perhaps a better O-line and they could put up two field goals.

Falcons sitting Penix for the rest of the Preseason

I don't understand why you signed a quarterback to a 4-year contract during free agency,  and then you used your 1st round pick to draft a quarterback and not start him for the regular season, just for him not to play more than one preseason game. What is Penix's role here?????  Did the Falcons miss their first-round pick????? I do not want him to get hurt, since his past history and what happened to Vikings quarterback J.J. McCarthy, But Penix has to get used to the system. Sitting him won't do much.

If there were any other Highlights or Lowlights that I missed, let me know in the comments or let your Local Couch GM know.  

[thatguy1832]

Alright, so I was wrong about this season. With us probably going 5-12 it was yet another disappointing season for the giants. However, this is not like our other losing seasons with a high draft pick. Something is being built. It was very possible we ended this season with 9 wins. So many games came down to the last possession. If we had a real qb (not DJ or Tyrod) we are easily in the playoffs. Our defense made huge strides this year and Thibs looked like that monster edge guy he was supposed to be. Banks was solid, it’s hard to be a rookie CB in the NFL. JMS had his moments but also looked like a rookie. As long as we can get a new o-line coach, our line could look decent next year. If we go with a qb with that first pick (ideally we don’t have to trade up but we may have to), we could be a wildcard team next year. Keep Wink, Keep Dabs and keep Shoen. I even think we should keep Kafka. He was the qb coach with Mahomes, let him develop a guy like Daniels. I think that both the cowboys and eagles have better records than they are. If we can get a legit qb, we can compete in the division. This draft and next season will be the biggest test Shoen and Dabs have. It’s where we will see if they are gonna be able to turn around this floundering franchise or if they will just be another failed front office/coaching staff.

[donald4spiderman]

The City

masterlist

-

Summary: Reader is thinking about moving to California. Spencer’s determined to get her to stay.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Warnings: none

Category: Fluff (angst if you squint)

**Inspired by Ben’s poetic confession in Parks and Recreations, S3E14**

Here’s a draft i forgot to post

-

**not edited yet**

Spencer’s POV

As a profiler, I’ve mastered the observation and analysis of behavior— we all have.

Picking the minds of serial killers is second nature— so why is it so hard for me to figure out why (Y/N) is behaving so strangely?

In the recent months, her witty and charming energy has dwindled into a lethargic imitation. Whether she’d admit it or not— (Y/N) can be extremely enthusiastic about certain things— especially our job.

So, when I watch her drag her feet, inch by inch, into the BAU each morning, It’s hard to contain my concern.

I know Morgan has noticed, and I’m sure everyone else has too. They’re probably just too scared to say anything. (Y/N) doesn’t enjoy people prying into her private life, so we all stay a comfortable distance away.

I watch her a lot... more than I’d like to admit. It’s hard to be unaware of her nervous behaviors— the nail biting, hair twisting, skin picking— I practically have enough data to make a correlation graph. I can tell when she’s upset, and it’s happening more than usual.

(Y/N) has always been kind to me. Even when I was at the peak of my stammering, slicked-back hair phase, she treated me with more respect than I deserved. I can only imagine how awkward I must’ve been (or, still am), and I thank her for not belittling me.

I guess I’m validating the Benjamin Franklin Effect when I say this— but I feel like I owe it to her to ask what’s wrong. Over the years I’ve built up (arguably) the closest friendship with her, so it only makes sense for me to bite the bullet for the team.

It’s partially due to the fact that I’ve developed a slight (if not major) crush over time, but who wouldn’t? A gorgeous, intelligent, quick-witted women is kryptonite for any person. Our conversations are always stimulating, she gives the best advice, and she’s always there to comfort a team member.

So, it pains me to see her struggle through a paperwork day. I wish she would reach out to anyone for help, but it’s not in her nature.

“H-Hi.” I smile as I approach her desk. Her tired eyes look up at me, and she smiles back.

“Hey, Reid. What’s up?

I rub the back of my neck nervously. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Morgan and Emily watching me struggle to form a sentence. They giggle as they watch.

“I-I was... um. D-do you want to get coffee with m-me? Not now! I mean— after work!” Morgan stumbles out of the bullpen, barely containing his laugh. I must sound pathetic.

(Y/N) nods hesitantly, “S-sure. I don’t know why you want to get coffee with me, but I’m free.”

“Really?” My surprise shocks her. “T-that’s gr-great! I can drive you!”

She chuckled, “I think I’d rather drive us. I’m pretty sure you can’t drive a mile without hitting a curb.”

I nod fervently. “Sounds good.”

As I make my way back to my desk, I send a glare in Emily’s direction as she continues to smirk at me.

-

(Y/N) grabs an empty table in the café, and we sit down, huddling close to our warm drinks. She orders a cinnamon latte, I order a black coffee with an unhealthy amount of sugar.

I place the drinks down. “Did you know that cinnamon is shown to reduce systolic blood pressure. It’s commonly used in South Asia and works by dilating blood vessel.”

She nods, “Surprisingly, I did know that. You’re gonna have to teach me something else, Doc.” I laugh in response, enjoying the relaxation that radiates off of her.

“I feel like we don’t get to, um, t-talk as much as I would like to.” My words get caught in my throat and she gives me a lopsided smile.

“Well, we don’t exactly have the most leisurely job.” She states, sipping her drink.

I bite my lip, she looks down. I convince myself that my mind is playing tricks on me, because there’s no way (Y/N) would glance down to watch me pull my bottom lip between my teeth.

“I know... but you used to talk more.”

“I’ve been busy lately. Tired too.” She mumbles.

I mean forward slightly, my voice is a hushed whisper. “A-are you... okay?” I’m anticipating an defensive response, but all she does is sigh.

“I’m alright. I just... I’m getting tired of being here— in D.C.”

My eyes widen and my brows knit together. “W-What! Why?”

(Y/N) shrugs, “I don’t know. I just expected to feel... really, really attached to D.C when I first moved here. I love my job, and I love you guys— but nothing’s keeping me here.”

My face drops. My disappointment is adamant because she scrambles to reassure me.

“It’s not that I don’t absolutely love working with you guys. You’re my best friend, Spencer. But... I came to D.C to... I don’t know... settle down.” It comes out as more of a question rather a statement. “It’s sounds weird, right? Me, settling down?” She laughs. “I-I don’t mean a husband and a family necessarily. I moved here because I wanted to belong somewhere.”

“You don’t feel like you belong?”

“I feel... I feel like everything I have right now is temporary. It’s not the feeling I expected to have. I just want to have something permanent in my life for once.”

I remain silent, lacking the proper response.

“Please don’t tell anyone!” She pleaded.

I smile solemnly, “I won’t. I promise.”

In that moment, I make another promise. Not just to (Y/N), but to myself. I’m going to show her how many things she has here for her in D.C.

I’m going to prove how much I believe she belongs.

-

I started by bringing her coffee each morning— a cinnamon latte from the same café we went to.

The first time she seemed pleasantly surprised. I sped through the doors of the bullpen, my coat and slacks absolutely soaked due to the rainy D.C weather. She giggled at the sight of my hair plastered to my forehead. I was certain that I looked like a wet dog.

“Morning!” I greeted, placing down both cups of coffee on her desk so I could fix my hair. “I-uh-I got you coffee. A cinnamon latte, of course.”

(Y/N) smiles brightly, “You’re the best. Thanks, Reid. I definitely needed this.”

Hotch and Rossi are watching me curiously, pretending not to look up from their files. At this moment, I could care less.

“It’s n-nothing.” Suddenly I’m blushing furiously under the weight of her stare.

“Thanks, again.” She clears her throat, “Y-you’re a really good friend.”

She smiles. And I smile.

-

In the next three weeks, (Y/N) and I grow closer at a rate faster then ever. I try to do something small for her everyday. Finishing up a file for her; Bringing her coffee or water; Sitting next to her on the jet. It appears to be working— she looks much more relaxed and happy. Her sarcastic humor is back and she engages more with the team.

We’ve decided to hang out after today. I find myself enjoying every minute with her, even if all we do is talk, eat, and walk around aimlessly. I’m sure she’s tired of me, but my infatuation with her only grows.

Tonight, we’re sitting at the park, watching people on their late night jogs, dog walkers, babysitters. We finished eating Indian food at a local restaurant. Turns out we’re both regulars at the same place, it’s a shame we haven’t run into each other.

She’s sitting criss-cross on the bench, her elbow rested on top of her knee. “You know,” She starts, “D.C is pretty great. I don’t think I’ve felt this... content in a while.”

I smile, even if it’s too dark for her to see. “Th-thanks. D.C is a great place, despite averaging 39 inches of rain annually.”

She means her head back against the bench. “I still don’t know. I feel like I’m just waiting for something. I don’t even know what that something is... a sign maybe?”

“A sign?” I laugh.

“Y-yeah... a sign. I’d usually make a pros and cons list and research the differences between the two places but... this decision feels too personal to look at it as just statistics.”

In this very moment, I decide to toss all my concerns, questions, what if’s, into the wind. This is my final move; my last resort; my Hail Mary.

My hands are trembling, and it takes me seconds to force the words out of my throat.

“W-well, besides the higher cost of living and considerably gloomy weather, D.C can be a p-pretty great place to reside. It has a busy political culture and is one of the most diverse states in the country.” I pause for a little longer than necessary.

“But, besides statistics and facts, if w-we look past objectivity, to me: D.C is where my friends are, and my friends are my family. Um... I like The City because it’s home to so many great people. A-and I know it’s hard to see the good in things considering how much violence we see on a daily basis, but certain people make me believe that things aren’t all that bad.”

(Y/N)‘a listening attentively, making me even more nervous than I thought possible. “D.C— The City— is beautiful. It’s charming. It’s a warm, cinnamon latte on a rainy day, o-or a late night walk in the park. To me, it’s home.” I catch her smirking a little bit, and I can only hope that she understands what I’m trying to say.

“Plus, The City is really good at her job. The City’s an excellent profiler. But, the city’s an even better friend, and an even better person. It doesn’t hurt that The City has great hair, and gorgeous eyes, and a perfect smile. And, she does this cute thing where she twists the ends of her hair, even if I keep telling her to stop. The City’s beautiful and definitely out of my league. She probably wants nothing to with me now, but I don’t care. I really like The City. And, even if she doesn’t like me back, she should stay, because there are so many people that like and love The City. ‘Cause who wouldn’t.”

(Y/N) is full on grinning right now, and it’s hard to stay patient when so much is on the line.

“Wow.” She giggles. “You really like The City.”

I chuckled awkwardly, “Y-yeah. I really do.”

“I mean, if you think The City’s so great, maybe I should stay. Plus, I’m sure The City likes you too.”

I feign confusion, “Really? I don’t know... The City can be kind of closed off sometimes.”

“Trust me— The City definitely likes you back. And I don’t think The City appreciates you saying that about her”

“Oh really?” I gasp. “Let’s ask her.”

I turn my head around, then proceed to look back at (Y/N) in the most dramatic fashion.

“Hey.” I laugh.

“Oh, Hi Dr. Reid!” She feigns surprise to match my frivolousness.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, b-but I really like you. And, a little birdy told me that you like me back.”

She laughs heartily, “Well, that little birdy is a pretty reliable source.”

Soon, her head is resting on my shoulder. My body’s stiff and the air is caught in my lungs, but I feel more content than I have in years. Somehow the weather is warmer, and the sun is brighter, and things just seem... better.

“This is a great city.” She mumbles, peering up at me in the most adorable fashion.

“Yeah,” I smile, “It really is.”

-

“Pawnee’s a really special town, I love living there. And, I look forward to the moments in my day where I get to hang out with the town, and talk to the town about stuff. The town has really nice blonde hair too. And, it’s read a shocking number of political biographies for a town, which I like.” - Ben Wyatt

[moonlit-imagines]

The Doctor Is Out

Stephen Strange x reader

warnings:

a/n: wrote this a while ago and its been sitting in my drafts. part 1/2

prompt:

In (2)

Without opening your eyes, you stretched your stiffened body against the silk sheets and rolled over to face your husband.

“Good morning, dear.” You whispered through a yawn, which led into a smile. Stephen was already awake and reading one of the many books he kept at his bedside.

“And good morning to you, too.” He leaned over and gave you a kiss on the temple, letting your eyes flutter open. “Did you sleep well?”

“I’d say so.” You reluctantly sat up on your side of the bed, pushing the covers away. “Any plans for today?”

“Not in particular.” Stephen decided to get out of bed with you and get ready for the day, although he was in a gray jacket and blue jeans in the blink of an eye. “We don’t have very much to eat, I might go run out for lunch.”

“Lunch?” You asked as you pulled on a pair of pants.

“Yes, well, you seem to have gotten a late start on the day.” Your husband explained. “I didn’t want to wake you, you looked so content with your dreams.” You took Stephen’s wrist to take a look at the time.

“It’s half past eleven?” You stared in shock at your husband’s watch. “You just waited for me?” He shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal, but Stephen rarely ever let himself lag behind, it was truly sweet of him to keep you company while you drifted through the peace of your head, thoughts you’d already forgotten. “It seems the odds were in our favor when our paths first crossed, huh?”

“Don’t make a big deal out of it, my dear.” Stephen’s barely shaking hands cupped your face and right before he leaned in for a refreshing kiss to the lips, he whispered, “I’m not as great a man as you make me out to be.”

You hummed into the kiss he gave you and pulled back just a tad. “Oh, you’re right. You’re just the worst.” Sarcasm failed to escape you in moments like these, it was more entertaining than anything else in the eyes of your husband. “Now, I’m starving. Want to go to the deli around the block?”

“That’ll work. We should ask Wong if he’s hungry, too.”

—————

“You don’t have any money?” Stephen asked as the three of you walked through the Sanctum in a fixed line.

“Attachment to the material is detachment from the spiritual.” Wong’s wise words rung in your mind as you tried to figure out what he did before the two of you had moved in with him.

“I’ll tell the guys at the deli.” Stephen snarked. “Maybe they’ll make you a metaphysical ham on rye.”

“It’s fine, we’ll pay for your lunch.” You interjected after hearing enough of that. Somehow, the trip down the stairs was unsuccessful since your steps from only a few seconds ago were nothing but rubble. You fell to the floor as Stephen and Wong took defensive positions.

“Thanos is coming.” An unfamiliar voice spoke as you lay on the cold floor. Were you able to get up on your own? Probably, but that fall would definitely leave a mark. After a moment’s time of your lonely visit with the floor, your partner rushed over to you.

“Y/N? Are you alright?” He crouched beside you and helped you back up, lightly brushing your cheek as he checked for any injuries.

“I think I’m okay.” You nodded. “Hit my head on the way down.” Peering over his shoulder while he checked your head for any bumps, you saw Dr. Bruce Banner crawl from the rubble. “Do I have a concussion or was it a gamma scientist that just crashed into the Sanctum?”

“Hi, I’m Doctor—” He waved just before you cut him off.

“I know who you are, Doctor Banner.” You replied with a smirk. “I’m Dr. L/N-Strange, specializing in neuroscience, but formerly gamma research.” Stephen smiled himself when he heard you say your name and just a little more when you described your profession. Maybe he was just proud to be near someone so accomplished.

“I don’t think you have a concussion.” A kiss on your forehead was the best medicine he could give, but you knew that it also meant he needed to get to work.

“‘Formerly gamma?’ Why’s that?” Bruce asked, somehow ignoring the big picture here. I mean, you were just happy to get some visitors, I suppose. You’d answer anything.

“For a while, they went hand-in-hand for me. You’d be surprised at what could be accomplished when you put them together...” You explained, Stephen patiently listening beside you.

“But?” Bruce pried a little more.

“But then I heard about your little ‘accident,’ decided to take a break just in case. Refocus my research.” You felt your partner’s hand rest on your shoulder and slide down your arm as you watched Dr. Banner’s guilty expression surface. It wasn’t your intention to offend, you were just obliging to his curiosity.

“As much as I love hearing you talk about your career, darling,” Stephen finally stepped in, “I think we need to talk about the threat to our planet?”

“I was wondering when you’d stop me.” You chuckled. “That’s alright, I’ll just go pick up lunch for you three. Dr. Banner, do you like sandwiches?”

“I...yes? I guess so. Turkey and swiss is...I haven’t had that in a while.” He stammered, leaving you to peer over at your husband and have him give you a near-identical look. Sometimes, the two of you just thought that same exact things, no words needed.

“Will you two stop doing that weird thing where you stare at each other in silence? We have work to do!” Wong interrupted and you decided it was about time to head out.

“Love you, Stephen.” You said with an amused shake of your head, giving him a quick peck in the lips.

“Love you, too. Don’t be too long if you can help it, Dr. Banner seems to have a pretty good idea of dangers to come.” He told you as his cloak gave you a quick pat on the arm. You didn’t know whether to say goodbye to his outerwear, as well.

“I’ll see what I can do.” You winked and pat the red cloak back, heading for the door that your bag was hung beside. Now was the time for a walk to clear your mind, no “Thanos” or whatever the hell that was. Just the music to your ears that was Bleeker Street traffic and insufferable pedestrians. You just kept your eyes front and went on walking, you’d walk straight through crowds if you had to.

A few block’s worth of steps and you’d reached the deli that was so dear to your husband, now it was time to wait in line, a pretty long one, nonetheless. Maybe it was time to shoot Stephen a text.

Just made it to the deli ;) Anything I should be worried about out here?

Tony Stark is here. Outlook not so good.

Did you just magic 8-ball me?

“Dude, are you texting right now?” Tony asked in disbelief of the wizard looking down at his phone. It wasn’t very typical of him to check it in times like these, but you had a specific ringtone. Once he hears that ringtone, he replies. No matter what.

“I always answer my s/o.” He cleared his throat and stashed his phone away.

“At least we have something in common.”

—————

The line at the deli took so long that you got caught in the crossfire of an alien attack. Was it unbelievably amazing? Of course. Was it one of the most terrifying days of your life? You bet.

You could no longer get ahold of your husband and you soon knew why when he flew overhead in an attempt of offense. You’re guessing that these people were looking for the Time Stone.

Desperately hoping for one of your wizard “pals” to come and save you, maybe have you fall through a portal and back into Sanctum, you just hid in an alley. This may be one of the lows in your life, but you’d see worse days soon enough.

And the invasion was over just like that. You, like many other New Yorkers, stepped from the crevices of the streets to witness the damage firsthand.

“Uh, Dr. L/N!” That same voice from earlier spoke, causing you to swivel your head and see Bruce waving you down. Since he was the first person you recognized out here, it’d be best for you to head his way. It was a maze of cars, bricks, and broken glass before you’d made it over to him.

“Where’s Stephen? Or Wong? Tony Stark?” You bombarded him as if he weren’t stressed enough, but scientists always wanted answers. He knew that from experience.

“The aliens have your husband.” A line you never thought you’d have to hear. This better be a sick dream. “Wong said he was going back to the ‘Sanctum’ to protect it, and Tony is also with the aliens.”

“At least my husband has backup.” You sighed with a slight hint of relief, but your stomach was still turning just thinking about what they might do to Stephen. If they wanted that Stone, they’d do whatever they could to get it. Stephen was as smart as he was stubborn, it’d take a lot to get him to hand it over.

“Are you going back home?” He asked as he snagged a phone from the rubble.

“I figure you have a plan, I’m coming with you.” You watched him freeze for a moment with a name on the phone highlighted. “Trying to reassemble the Avengers, huh?”

“Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, it’s going to be dangerous.” Way to state the obvious. You didn’t know if you could handle it, but...

“I have to get my husband back, I can’t just wait around.” You wouldn’t back down, but it was a little comforting to have someone backing him up. “Don’t worry, I’ll try to put myself to good use.”

—————

It has been...twenty days since the disappearance of several Earth-based heroes. Among them was Spider-Man, Tony Stark, and your husband. But today was the day you’d know the truth.

Half the population had vanished into thin air. It was hard to tell if anyone had survived the trip to space. You’d been staring out the window all day, just trying to spot the cosmic wonder that was “Captain Marvel.” If anyone could find them, it was her.

Just as you were about to nod off, a bright glare intruded in the sky.

“Guy? Guys! She’s back!” Everyone had been on edge today, so they were ready to dash outside. Your heart was beating out of your chest, this was the moment of truth.

Carol landed a beat-up spaceship onto the open field and out stumbled Tony Stark and what looked to be an alien. You stared at the ship’s door, waiting for one more person. Just one more.

Everyone was staring at you now, waiting for you to realize that your husband wasn’t in there. Once Tony caught sight of you, he pieced together who you were.

“You must be the wizard’s s/o?” He leaned against his fiancée and Captain America, struggling to look you in the eye. “He wanted me to give you a message. Uh...sorry, I’m going blank, rough ride.” He rubbed his forehead as you stood there in tears. “‘This will make sense later.’ Oh, and he loves you.”

“I...” Everyone was still looking at you with pity in their eyes. Yes, they all lost people, but you were still clinging onto hope. All of your optimism had been destroyed in these past few moments, you didn’t even know how you were supposed to take this. “I need a minute. I’m sorry.” You stormed off into the guest bedroom of Avengers HQ, leaving everyone around you worried. You didn’t know them long, but it was easy to bond through a trauma like this.

“Y/N?” Bruce knocked on the door. “Got a minute?”

“Sure.” You reluctantly answered and Bruce let himself in.

“I brought you carrots.” He offered the bowl. “It was all we had in the fridge, sorry.”

“We have to find Thanos.” You grumbled though tears. “I won’t give up until we fix what he did.” Bruce stayed silent out of fear, he knew what could happen to someone in mourning. People can get...crazy.

“We’ll do the best we can. We’re working on it.” Bruce explained as he set the food down on your end table.

“Take me with you. I have to be there this time.” You were in no way qualified to face an intergalactic being capable of that much destruction.

“Y/N, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.” He shyly countered you, using this calm tone was an exercise he learned during “anger management,” maybe it could help.

“I wasn’t asking.”

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @rorybutnotgilmore // @locke-writes // @sweetheartliz07 // @queen-destenie // @natasha-danvers // @lokihiddles // @frostedficrecs // @lotsoffandomrecs // @johnmurphyisqueer // @teenwaywardasgardian // @pappydaddy // @captainshazamerica // @freya-xo // @ravenmoore14 // @thisetaernallove // @ofthedewthesunlight // @canarypoint // @zoeyserpentluck // @randomawesomeperson102 // @spideyandtheboys // @ghost-bich // @wonderful-writer // @of-a-chaotic-mind // @groovyfluxie // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @lxncelot // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @blizzardbabe // @agentshortstacc // @rosadiaz-sarayvargas-harleyquinn //

[magicianapprenticelyra]

At the Ready (Part I)

[Finding Space and Time] | [Counting the Days] | [At the Ready]

Timeline: Muriel’s Route; The Sun

[Featuring @vesuvianoak​‘s fan apprentice Ąžuolas]

“Hey, Ąžuolas?” James looks up from the base of the tree. Bảo’s settling into his spot as Ąžuolas leans over the edge of the platform.

“Yeah?” Ąžuolas replies.

“That’s my husband you got there . . .” James murmurs. “Please watch out for him.”

“JAMES!” Bảo exclaims, “Don’t put so much pressure on him! You so mean!”

His husband laughs, shaking his head. Hand on his sword’s hilt, James replies, “Just making sure. I know you both can take care of yourselves, and each other. I just . . .”

“Aw baby,” Bảo chuckles. “I know, you worry . . .”

“We’ll have each other’s backs,” Ąžuolas interjects. “That I can promise you.”

James nods at his fellow Southernlander and pulls the hood of his cloak up. With a wave, he’s off to check in on one last group: his wife and daughter at the cave.

O*O*O

“C’mon everyone, please keep in line!” Walt calls out, marking down whoever passes her by on a large pile of parchment. “File in towards the back, stay out of the pond with the giant lily pads, don’t stray from the marked paths, and I’ll be in there with the rest of ya shortly!”

“Walt!” James calls, weaving in and out of the foliage.

“Hey babe!” Walt continues to sign people in as she and her husband share a quick peck. “Bảo situated?”

“Yeah,” James nods. “Neha inside yet?”

“Done and done.”

“Good, good . . .”

“You see Ly and Muriel?”

“Back at barricades with the Countess,” James murmurs. “Gods be with us all today.”

Walt checks in the final person to the cave, exhaling in relief.

“I better get in there myself,” she murmurs.

Before she goes in, James pulls her into a tight hug. He’s shaking.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Walt soothes, gently rocking on her heels. The pair sway back and forth together. “You’ve been practicin’ with Ludo and Blumilda. You’ll be fine. Grab a shield on your way to your post.”

“Ach, right,” James groans, hiding his face into her shoulder. “I hope there are some left.”

“Get to it,” Walt encourages, stepping back. She squeezes his shoulders, giving him an earnest smile. “You got this!”

James nods, coming down to give her a proper kiss. With that he leaves, making haste to the weapons storage to grab a shield.

As he fades from view, Walterine starts activating all the protection sigils around the cave.

Neha is waiting for her at the mouth of it. She’s armed with her batting stick, shifting her weight from side to side as her mother strides in. Walt’s eyes glow a deep magenta.

“You didn’t have to wait for little ol’ me,” Walt chuckles.

“I wanted to see it all light up,” Neha replies. She walks backward, eyes pointed toward the nearest rocky surface.

As Walt passes the sigils she’s drawn into the walls, they come to life. A magical wall forms behind her, sealing the front of the cave in a solid mixture of illusory defense. Foliage appears in front of the cave’s mouth, hiding it from discerning eyes,

Before long, Walt sits down among her fellow Vesuvians. She blinks, her glowing eyes flickering in time with the shield’s walls.

As the war horns and drums sound outside, she’s focused on maintaining the shield.

The battle’s begun.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

FWIP! SWIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-PAP!

The pebble smacks into an enemy soldier’s forehead. It stuns them enough to crash into their fellow compatriots. The group of them fall right into a hidden trap nearby, knocking even more of their soldiers off their feet.

“Nice one!” Ąžuolas crows, pelting others with hailstones the size of his fist.

“Thank you!” Bảo makes quick work of the contents of the giant leather sack between them. His aim is impeccable, his pebbles the perfect distraction and an actual danger to the exposed skins and craniums of the invaders.

There seems to be five mercenaries for every citizen of Vesuvia. Despite this, none of the enemies have made it anywhere close to the barricades.

When arrows start whizzing by their heads, Ąžuolas switches over to creating his ice traps. Buckets and barrels full of water had been hidden amongst the bushes, allowing Ąžuolas and other water-leaning magicians to make the most of it.

He catches some arrows in balls of ice, redirecting them to the archers that sent them. Down below, soldiers attempting to cut down their tree have Bảo busy.

As he shoots pebbles between several soldiers’ eyes, he hopes James is faring better.

O*O*O

One mercenary managed to disarm him. James is at a severe disadvantage without his sword. With their dagger and his weapon in their hands, the mercenary has him pinned against a nearby tree.

James has his shield up, gritting his teeth. With the other driving their blades into the splintering wood, it’s making it severely difficult to concentrate. The exertion of him pushing back against the enemy is starting to take its toll.

His gaze is locks with this mercenary’s own. Their eyes are wild, reveling in all the bloodshed they wrought upon the fallen Vesuvians around them both.

“Any last words?” they grin, watching as the shield begins to fall apart in James’s hands.

“Go ndeine an diabhal dréimire de cnámh do dhroma ag piocadh úll i ngairdín Ifrinn!” James swears, bracing for when steel would sink into his chest.

Before the mercenary could end him, blurs of white and orange slam into their ankles. James freezes, jaw dropping as recognition falls over him.

Corgis?! What in the world, he hasn’t seen any since—

The merc drops to the ground, trying to shake the dogs off. They bite harder in retaliation, growling and snapping at the mercenary’s offending hands and ankles.

James grabs a piece of his broken shield. Without ceremony, he smashes it over the mercenary’s head. Dusting his hands of the wood dust, he inspects them. He properly knocked them out; they aren’t dead, no, but at the very least concussed.

Seeing that the aggressor was down, the dogs turn around to face James. Their mouths are open, tongues lolling out amicably.

“Madra maith!” James praises the dogs, petting their heads and flanks. “Madra maith—ach, sorry for the blood, little ones!” He turns to find a dewy patch of grass, wiping his hands, wrists and arms free of red.

“Now then,” James looks over the stout little dogs, trying not to frown. “I think you’re all friends, but if you’re with the mercenaries I may be in troub—”

“James?”

He freezes, watching as the corgis trot off toward the direction of the new voice. Slowly, he gets to his feet. He stares at the tall woman approaching.

“James!” she exclaims, dropping her spear and rushing toward him.

His reply is lost in the din of war horns in the distance, but the newcomer sees it on his lips all the same.

Mum!

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

“Is she going to be okay?”

Lyra peers in through the tent flap, looking at Walterine. On the floor of the tent is her aunt, effectively knocked out. Curled up in Walt’s arms is Neha, who is just starting to fall asleep.

“She will be,” Bảo reassures. He’s sitting beside Neha, legs crossed as he looks on at Lyra. “Thank you for checking in, con.”

She nods. “If any of you need anything, Muri and I are just up the hill.”

Bảo laughs. “We know!” As she and her uncle laugh a bit, weighty footsteps come up behind Lyra. Bảo leans over to the side; it’s just enough for him to see that his niece’s beau just behind her.

“Đi con, đi,” Bảo urges, waving her off. “We be okay. I promise.”

Lyra nods at him before stepping away from the tent. Bảo listens as she and Muriel walk away. Before long, the only sound he can hear is the noise of Tent-Vesuvia going through its nightly routine. The man sits back, sighing softly.

James isn’t back from his meeting with the Countess yet. After Bảo and Ąžuolas got down from their perch, a messenger had found Bảo and told him that his husband was in the middle of an extremely important meeting with the Countess. 

Apparently, James had encountered someone from his family on the battlefield.

That was as much as Bảo knew of the situation. While the Countess is known for her fairness these days, the fact James encountered his family as they were on the side of the enemy . . .

It puts quite a few thorns into the situation, doesn’t it?

A/N: It’s good to be writing again! This has been in my drafts since January. Thank you so much for reading—it means a lot to me.

[ajbrooks-writes]

WIP Re-Intro: For The Crown

Book One of the Blood Ties trilogy

Heyo! Exactly what it says on the tin. A new and improved For The Crown with special edition features and up-to-date info! Also now with an official trilogy title: Blood Ties. Incredibly accurate.

Book One: For The Crown

Two young shapeshifters uncover generations of blood crimes as they attempt to change their own destiny. Masquerading amidst power plays and fickle allys, the prince and the pretender learn the meaning of family in a tale of love, loss, and the cost of challenging the stars.

Elthian and Ryvaeryn are from very different worlds, tied together by a bloody past. They are each given a single chance to attain their goals, but to do so must navigate a court full of lies, a country full of secrets, and a foe determined to keep both in the past.

Basics

Stage: Complete Structural Overhaul Review

Estimated Length: 135k

Genre: New Adult high fantasy

Themes: found family, adventure, self-discovery, romance, challenging status quo, challenging destiny.

More info

Orphaned as an infant and raised by humans on the continent, Ryn has never known another shapeshifter. A bookbinder by trade, she masquerades as a scholar and runs to the island country of Mantha, where she meets our team, and her resolve is tested when she is discovered and has a choice: go home to safety or join the court and risk it all.

Growing up in the castle with his father, brother and best friend, Elthian has known he would be king since he was a child. A planner by passion, Elthian’s progressive ideas clash with his father’s traditional values, placing them increasingly at odds. When his father threatens to change his successor, Elthian must choose between sacrificing the crown for his values and work, or sacrificing his values for the crown and power.

Ryvaeryn and Elthian’s journeys intertwine as they work towards their goals. Among the trials of their individual paths, they realise their growing friendship might be more than that. Now they must weigh their loyalties and, when discovered, understand that one false step could tear them apart forever.

Read on to learn about some of the characters and the next two books! Also cool graphics.

Welcome to part two!

Characters

Protagonist. Age 29, lion shapeshifter. Idealistic, compassionate, creative, naive. Elthian has a rocky past, but has landed on his feet with a father he idolises, an older half-brother he loves unconditionally, and a best friend he could not do without. His brother’s protection has left him naive to their father’s nature, but kept him from losing that idealism and compassion their father is so blatantly missing. Elthian’s biggest struggle is his own self-doubt, but his brother’s line “There are some things in this world you just can’t change.” kickstarts his determination to do exactly that. I love my son, but not make it easy.

Protagonist. Age 26, tiger shapeshifter. Impulsive, defensive, determined, kind. Safe in seclusion with her long term girlfriend, Ryn gives it up to journey to Mantha and find others like her. She is quick to defend herself and slow to reason, and so desperately wants to know who she is and where she came from that she will risk everything to find answers. This is made difficult when she becomes to target of assassination. See her right eye pictures above? That may or may not emerge intact . I love her, and I forge her fortitude in fire.

Secondary. Age 30, wolf shapeshifter. Quiet, perceptive, loyal. Joal spent half his childhood as a crown ward, becoming Elthian’s best and most loyal friend. His official role is Royal Historian and Heritage Law Consultant, and he lives at the castle. He is the first to realise Ryn isn’t a scholar. Joal isn’t ‘in touch’ with his emotions, which quickly creates a rift between him and Ryn. Joal has the largest role in Blood Ties after Ryn and Elthian.

Secondary. Age 32, human. Optimistic, intuitive, honourable. Kalen is the ultimate best friend. He is a great hugger, great listener, and gentle soul. He left the army  to pursue music, specifically the flute. Kalen is aro-ace, and his and Skye’s QPR is the most precious and pure dynamic I have ever seen. He becomes close friends with Ryn, we call him K, and I would die for him.

Tertiary. Age 35, lion shapeshifter. Discerning, protective, adventurous. Orrian paints himself as rebellious and unreliable, allowing him to pursue his interests in peace, and as a bonus giving his father frequent headaches. Orrian runs a shelter for homeless or orphaned boys and young men, mostly shapeshifters, and basically has a dozen adopted sons. He is also investigating his father, whom he loathes. Orrian has a much larger role in the next two books.

Tertiary. Age 21, crane shapeshifter. Shy, observant, attentive. Skye is very close with Kalen, and Ryn first meets her in a courtyard where Skye is playing violin. She struggles with anxiety and  PTSD, and attempts to create a support network in this book, which unfortunately backfires. Skye’s role will change a lot over the trilogy as she develops and grows and discovers her strength.

Tertiary. Age 24. human. Sarcastic, charming, realist. Corri meets Ryn early in town, and they become friends quickly. She loves to have a good time, and encourages Ryn to do the same. If the cellars are stocked, right? Corri has a brief, secret fling with Joal in this book. She also frequently makes time to spend with the children at the castle - much better company than nobles.

Tertiary. Age 64, lion shapeshifter. Assertive, determined, commanding. Parthian rules with iron, currently with his third wife. He pushed Orrian to abdicate, and has spent the last decades grooming Elthian to be a more worthy successor. Parthian is struggling under the weight of (subjectively) poor past choices. His sons take more from him than they’d like.

Side. Age 34, human. Calming, authentic, passionate. Lowe and Ryn were together for three years, and lived together for most of that. She knows Ryn’s aspirations, fears and hopes and supports her move to Mantha. Lowe will have a larger role in the next two books, but will crop up a few times in this one, too.

Side. Age 9, shapeshifter. Shy, curious, adventurous. Pab is an orphan, and has lived at the castle her entire life. She is friends with Corri, and becomes a loyal friend of Ryn’s after a vandalism mishap. Pab will climb literally anything. She scales two storeys of old stone to break into Ryn’s room. Ryn and Pab’s bond strengthens over the trilogy, and we learn more about her family later on.

--

The World:

For The Crown takes place primarily in Mantha, an island country about the size of France. It has several smaller ilsands scattered around it., and across a strait is a mainland spanning an area close to that of Russia, which is where Ryn is from. Skye and Joal are from the North and South islands around Mantha respectively..During this book, the court travels around the country to various estates, under the guise of a ‘royal tour’, in which Parthian speaks to the leaders and the people and try to assure them that the monarchy has their best interest’s at heart. It gives Elthian the opportunity to find the progressive among them, and Ryn the opprtunity to explore different libraries and estates, including a ruined city, searching for answers.

Mantha is a feudal society originally settled by shapeshifters, which Parthian encourages, because they are easier to control. The continent, all humans, is meanwhile approaching an early industrial age; they have a direct democracy, with all the people having a voice. Mantha works with alchemy, whereas the continent works with technology. They have minimal overlap, but for trade and transport, things like air travel crosses their cultures.

This means I can have steampunk airships flying over my feudal farmland. The dream.

If you would like to know anything else about their culture, feel free to shoot an ask my way!

Rest of the trilogy:

For The King

After the bittersweet end to For The Crown, Ryn and Elthian try to recover the trust of the Manthan people as Elthian begins a shaky rule. But when the new king is kidnapped, it’s up to Ryn, Orrian, Kalen and Joal to race across the continent to save him, finding help from old friends along the way. Meanwhile, in a deep underground prison, Elthian meets new allies and foes as his captors attempt to break him, and he plans a daring escape or three. For The King is significantly darker, and ready to be drafted. You can read this wip intro here.

For The Country

Following a narrow escape, Ryn, Elthian, their new allies and remaining friends journey back to Mantha only to discover it has been overrun! With Elthian’s confidence shattered and Ryn struggling to stay afloat, For The Country has them and their team racing to rally their people against an approaching enemy while they battle fire, uprising, discord and disease. In the conclusion of this epic fantasy, everyone comes together for the battle that will decide Mantha’s future.

Final comments:

Can’t believe I managed, finally, to finish this intro.

I’m going to try and participate more in wip and OC related things, and post more about my story when life allows. I hope you enjoyed it, congrats on getting to the end, and have a great day!

--

For The Crown tag list:

 @trigwrites @jessicacaseyauthor @mfackenthal @mushwrites @b-works-074  @gardeningourmet @apocalyvse @jcckwrites @writingisdivinetorture  @purpleshadows1989 @thatwritergirlsblog @betwixtofficial @pen-in-hand @whynotwriting @bookish-actor @sunlight-and-starskies @jcckwrites @half-explored @watermelons-writings @purpleshadows1989 @crazycoffeemermaid​ @summerflowers

Blood Ties taglist:

@whisperswritings @stand-inthe-rain @fantasy-shadows @halrose @romanticatheart-posts @hopefulmoonobject @angelolytle @albarnesauthor @fantasy-penman @ofinscriptions @jynecca @venomouspen @k-nazario​ @raenawrites @s-n-o-w-p-i-e-r-c-e-r​ @the-starlight-chills​ @crazycoffeemermaid​ @ardawyn​ @bookish-actor​ @waterfallofinkandpages​ @the-writister​ @thewriteblrarchives​

(if you would like to be added or removed from the Blood Ties tag list, please let me know. Also if I’ve missed anyone I’m really sorry, could you let me know please thank youx)

[cementcornfield]

end of the season thoughts that got away from me after i started typing!

this was probably not the team that would have won the super bowl anyway, as devastating as this is and as fun as it would have been for The Narrative :(

i am impressed with how a lot of the young defensive guys rallied, even if a lot of it was against mediocre to average offenses. i think we've got a lot of potential in mckinnley, fig, dj ivey (and dj turner and dax too. provided they heal up well). kris jenkins had flashes but i'm hearing conflicting things about him (i love his personality though) so hopefully he continues to figure things out. CTB had a very up and down season, hopefully he works out whatever was going on with him and come back next year solid.

i think lou is out, i don't see how he can't be. even with this win streak (again, against mostly bad offenses). it's a shame because he's a master schemer and knows how to stop elite QBs like pat and josh. but we've used almost ALL of our first to third round draft picks on defensive players the last few years (amarius being the only exception!) and none of them have developed like we'd hoped?? we need a DC who can work with guys where they're at. develop them and create a scheme that they can understand and thrive in!

i also think pollack HAS to be gone. even being generous and saying that ted and orlando had their best passing PFF grades this season, and amarius developed better than people thought, it's still not enough. the way that joe plays, the way that we structure our offense, makes it INCREDIBLY difficult for any o-line guy. this is a fact. and the other fact is that pollack's background is one that emphasizes the run and other kinds of offense (i believe. i was reading this from some of the o-line experts on twitter lol). he's not a good fit for what we want to do. it's time to move on.

i'd also like to move on from sam, as heartbreaking as that is. he's not the same player he was, and he's being paid too much for what he's been able to give us the last few years. rankins also obviously has to go, he barely made it on the field and even when he did, he did not at all live up to his contract. they are two of our highest paid players on defense and moving on from them can only help us cap-wise as well.

we've gotta pick up some help in free agency. anyone we can get on d-line and some guards too. i wouldn't mind adding a vet safety and a vet CB as well.

as for the draft, looks like we're gonna end up around 17 (lol one lower than last year!) and i'd say again we need to focus on defense. an edge or a tackle, someone who can HELP trey with the pass rush because we've got nothing. i also wouldn't mind a CB. because again, we have very little there reliably. then i'd say drafting a guard and another running back (in the mid rounds) should be the priority.

i'd also say we HAVE TO HAVE TO HAVE TO extend tee and ja'marr this offseason. the pressure joe has put on the front office!!! the agent switch!!! how amazing tee is when he plays and the NOTICEABLE difference when he's out (that second half last night!!) tee is a NEED and i have to believe the FO will work with these guys to figure something out. the fact that they have the same agent i think is going to be a huge help in this. plus joe's not so subtle threats. (if they fuck this up he's gone after his first contract. i really believe that.)

also! last but def not least, we've gotta figure something out with trey. he is under contract one more year, but he's not happy and making our star players unhappy is actually NOT a good strategy, shockingly enough!

[auburnfamilynews]

Russell Costanza-USA TODAY Sports

How do the national champions follow up an incredible 2019 season?

Over the next couple of weeks, we will be taking a quick look at every Auburn opponent on the 2020 schedule.

2019 Record: 15-0

2020 Signing Class: 4th (3rd SEC)

Head Coach: Ed Orgeron (5th Season)

Key Departures:

QB Joe Burrow - 402/527 (76.3%) 5,671 yds 60 TD 6 INT

RB Clyde Edwards-Helaire - 215 carries 1,414 yds 6.6 avg 16 TD 55 rec 453 yds 8.2 avg TD

WR Justin Jefferson - 111 rec 1,540 yds 13.9 avg 18 TD

TE Thaddeus Moss - 47 rec 570 yds 12.1 avg 4 TD

LT Saahdiq Charles

C Lloyd Cushenberry

DT Rashard Lawrence - 28 tackles 6.0 TFL 2.5 sacks 3 PBU FR FF

OLB K’Lavon Chaisson - 60 tackles 13.5 TFL 6.5 sacks 2 PBU FF

LB Jacob Phillips - 113 tackles 7.5 TFL sack PBU FF

LB Patrick Queen - 85 tackles 12.0 TFL 3.0 sacks INT 2 PBU FR

S Grant Delpit - 65 tackles 4.5 TFL 2.0 sacks 2 INT 7 PBU FR FF

Key Returners:

WR Ja’Marr Chase (Jr) - 84 rec 1,780 yds 21.2 avg 20 TD

WR Terrace Marshall Jr (Jr) - 46 rec 671 yds 14.6 avg 13 TD

LB Damone Clark (Jr) - 50 tackles 4.0 TFL 3.5 sacks

DB Kary Vincent Jr (Sr) - 47 tackles 2.0 TFL 4 INT 8 PBU

CB Derek Stingley Jr (So) - 38 tackles TFL 6 INT 15 PBU FR

S JaCoby Stevens (Sr) - 92 tackles 9.0 TFL 5.0 sacks 3 INT 6 PBU

Preview

On September 30th, 2017, Ed Orgeron’s LSU Tigers lost at home to Troy. It was the 2nd loss in three weeks and things were starting to get uncomfortable for Coach O just five games into his first full season as the Tigers’ head coach. Rumors of infighting between the head man and offensive coordinator Matt Canada were rampant. With a trip to the Swamp up next and Auburn coming to town a week later, it sure seemed like a possible Ole Miss redux was underway in Baton Rouge. Ed O was once again the joke of the SEC.

But not for long.

LSU has lost exactly five games since that Troy upset. They rallied to beat Florida and Auburn in successive weeks and finished 9-4 in 2017. LSU followed up with a 10 win season in 2018. Then in 2019, Coach O and the Tigers went out and won the whole damn thing behind the most prolific offense in college football history.

Ain’t no one laughing now except Coach O.

What LSU accomplished in 2019 was remarkable. Joe Burrow transformed from mediocre QB that needed max protect every other snap to a Heisman winner who excelled at getting his playmakers the ball behind 5 man protections. It was an offense that was downright unstoppable, only scoring less than 35 points once in 2019. But even in that one contest against Auburn’s stout defense, LSU still put up over 500 yards of offense.

I mean just look at those numbers. Joe Burrow threw SIXTY touchdown passes. Ja’Marr Chase caught TWENTY touchdowns. Justin Jefferson had ONE HUNDRED AND ELEVEN receptions. Terrace Marshall missed 3 games and still caught THIRTEEN touchdowns. Clyde Edwards-Helaire rushed for more yards than any AU running back last season and would have finished #2 in receiving for Malzahn’s Tigers. Just insanity.

But can they do it again? Joe Brady, former no name NFL analyst turned offensive wunderkind, is gone to the NFL. Long time stud defensive coordinator Dave Aranda is now the head coach at Baylor. Fourteen members of the 2019 national champions were drafted in the NFL.

Winning championships is hard. Winning multiple championships is much harder. Just ask Larry Coker, Gene Chizik, Mack Brown, Jimbo Fisher and countless others who reached the mountain top only to see their programs crumble underneath them. Will Coach 0 join them or is this only the start of his ascension?

Fortunately for LSU, elite talent remains, it’s just unproven. Myles Brennan has the daunting task of replacing Joe Burrow. A former blue chip prospect, Brennan has patiently waited his turn and folks in Baton Rouge think highly of his upside. But he won’t be as good as Burrow this fall. The question is how big a step back does LSU’s offense take from Burrow to Brennan?

Luckily for LSU’s new starting QB, plenty of skill talent remains. Yes, Clyde Edwards-Helaire, Justin Jefferson and Thaddeus Moss are all gone. But the nation’s best wide receiver Ja’Marr Chase is back as is former 5-star Terrace Marshall Jr. LSU also returns two former 5-star running backs in John Emery and Tyrion Davis-Prince along with former blue chip Chris Curry. There’s also an assortment of young WR talent that looks poised to make an impact including 5-star freshman Kayshon Boutte.

Oh and they signed one of the freakiest athletes of the 2020 class in Arik Gilbert. Seriously, this kid is absurd and will be a bone fide stud in LSU’s offense.

Probably the most underrated piece of that LSU offense last season was its offensive line. The Tigers often relied on only 5 man protections and this unit was outstanding all year HOLDING up against elite pass rushes. However, four starters have departed with right tackle Austin Deculus the lone man returning. There’s definitely plenty of talent up front it’s just about getting it to gel quickly enough to execute the Tigers RPO heavy offense.

On defense, Dave Aranda is gone and a familiar face has returned to roam the Tigers sidelines. Bo Pelini is back in Power 5 football following five years as head coach at Youngstown State. He took the Penguins to the FCS National Championship his 2nd year but was unable to replicate that success in his following 3 campaigns. Under Pelini, LSU will be transitioning back to a four man front meaning some pieces on this defense will have to adjust to new responsibilities and positions this fall.

Up front, LSU is loaded as always. K’Lavon Chaisson, Rashard Lawrence and Breiden Fehoko are all gone but plenty of talent returns. The Tigers have some big fellas to eat up the middle in guys like Tyler Shelvin, Saiki Ika and Glen Logan. On the edge, LSU will have to make some adjustments transitioning from 3-4 OLBs to 4-3 DEs. There are a lot of different faces that will get looks at this position but keep an eye on former JUCO TE prospect T.K. McClendon. Ed O has been consistent in praising his development and the scheme change better fits his skillset. He could be a breakout player for this Tiger defense in 2020.

One of the positions hardest hit by attrition was linebacker where Patrick Queen and Jacob Phillips both decided to leave for the NFL following the 2019 season. Luckily for LSU, they landed one of the premier grand transfers on the market in former North Dakota State star Jabril Cox. He will likely earn a starting role on the outside while someone like Damone Clark takes over at the MIKE.

Two starters depart in Thorpe Award winner (lol) Grant Delpit and cornerback Kristian Fulton. But arguably the nation’s best corner, Derek Stingley Jr, returns along with nickel back Kary Vincent Jr and safety JaCoby Stevens. Former Auburn commit Cordale Flott looks to be the incumbent at the corner spot opposite Stingley while former AU target Maurice Hampton likely fills in for Delpit at safety. The Tigers also signed the #1 CB in the nation in the 2020 class in Elias Ricks who could easily see time early on the back end of LSU’s defense.

2019 was a magical season for LSU. They put a fun brand of football on the field and used it to obliterate most every opponent that stood in their way. But 2020 will likely provide a few more stumbling blocks. So much production is gone and with two brand new coordinators, it’s hard to see LSU repeating in 2020. Auburn gets the defending champs at home this fall. If Gus Malzahn is ever going to beat Ed Orgeron, it better be this year.

War Eagle!

from College and Magnolia - All Posts https://www.collegeandmagnolia.com/2020/7/9/21319019/sneak-peek-the-lsu-tigers-ed-orgeron-myles-brennan-jamarr-chase-jabril-cox-derek-stingley-jr

[littlemisssquiggles]

RWBY Squiggle Scripts #022: “Playing Pretend”

Picture it.

Heroes’ Day Out!

While staying in Atlas, our young heroes of RWBY and the JN(O)R gang decide to take a day off to explore the sights. During their excursion, due to their differing interests, the group decides to split up into four pairs: Ren and Nora, Blake and Yang, Weiss and Jaune and lastly, Ruby and Oscar.

Ruby was really enthusiastic about checking out the Atlesian Delta Mall---a giant shopping precinct within the kingdom that was very popular with the local youths because of its entertainment arena home to an arcade and a giant movie complex among other fun areas. 

At first the Rosebuds were happily enjoying themselves. However things turn sour when Oscar gets separated from Ruby while exploring the wall.

During his search for his missing rose, Oscar’s lone trek across the complex leads him to bump into a rather interesting group of people Before Oscar got a chance to even apologize to who he bumped into, he suddenly found himself swarmed on all sides by four girls who practically towered over him.

One girl was a proud blonde by the name of Clementine Pell. Another girl, a brunette with glasses was Naomi Navy. The third girl, a walking body of pink, was Ran Orchid and finally the fourth girl, Yasmine Alba---a red-eyed beauty with long hair as white as snow.

Oscar swallowed nervously as the girls flocked around him.  Suddenly he felt like a worm trapped in a cage of hungry canaries.

Clementine: Well what do we have here ladies? Looks like a little prince has lost his way.

Naomi: Ooh you're right Clem! He does look like a prince.

Ran: He’s such a cutie pie. I love his freckles! I can just eat him up!  

Yasmine: Quit acting so thirsty Ran. What's your name, sugar pie?

Oscar: *awkwardly* Uh...I---Os---Oscar.

Ran: Ooh Oscar!

Naomi: Like Gold!

Clementine: So you're a golden prince.

Oscar: Uh, if you'll excuse I really need to catch up with my---

Oscar attempted to walk past one of the girls---the snow-haired one---but to his dismay, she snaked her around one of his.

Yasmine: What's the rush, darling?

Ran: Yeah, why don't you come hang out with us?

Clementine: You wouldn't want to refuse the company of four beautiful girls like us now won't you?

Yasmine: Won't you!

Oscar: I...I...

Just when Oscar believed he was a goner, a glimmer of red caught his eyes as Ruby Rose came into view.

Ruby: There you are!  I've been looking all over for you.

Oscar: *in relief* Ruby!

Instantly, Oscar wiggled his way out of the snow-haired girl’s grip and joined Ruby at her side. Ruby smiled at Oscar before training her attention on the four girls who eyed her with stern expressions.

The blonde one even got up in Ruby’s face.

Clementine: Excuse me but we saw him first!

Ran: Yeah paws off our little prince!

Ruby: *blinking confusedly* Your little… what now?

She looked at Oscar.

Ruby: Oscar, do you know these girls? 

Oscar: No I've never seen them in my life.

Ruby: *frowning crossly* Are they harassing you?

Oscar: I---

Yasmine: He was about to get to know us personally before you butted in.

Naomi: Buzz off!

Ran: Yeah, who do you think you are?

Ruby: Oh where are my manners? The name’s Ruby Rose and…

Ruby draped one arm around Oscar’s shoulder pulling him closer to her with a big beaming smile.

Ruby: I'm his girlfriend!

CNRY: *in unison* What!

Oscar: Wait...what? 

Clementine: *hands on hips; appearing skeptical* Funny, you don't seem like his girlfriend.

Yasmine: Yeah like a cutie prince like him would ever date ugly peasant trash like you.

Oscar: *frowning defensively* Hey! Don't talk to her like----

Ruby: It's okay, sweetie. I'll handle this.

Ruby glanced back at the four CNRY girls; the smile on her face now curling into a smirk.

Ruby: So you want proof, you say?

Before Oscar had time to react; the next thing the small farm boy knew, Ruby suddenly closed the space between them and planted her bare lips over his in a kiss.

At first, Oscar was caught off guard by the sudden invasion. His body stiffened at the first out of shock but after a while he slowly felt herself melt into the kiss and it was not long before that he actually started kissing Ruby back.

By the time the two parted, Oscar’s heart was like a drum in his chest. His cheeks were flushed; far more than usual as he just stood staring at Ruby.

He wasn’t the only one. When Ruby returned to the four girls, their faces were a perfect Picasso of astonishment, disappointment and unbridled rage. A masterpiece of human expression that brought the big Chesire-cat smile back to Ruby’s face.

Ruby: *smugly* Proof enough for you ladies? Or do you need more convincing?

Yasmine: *disgustedly* No thank you!

Clementine: Let's go girls. Before I lose my lunch.

Naomi & Ran: Totally!

Whipping their hair, the CNRY girls walked away; finally leave Ruby and Oscar to themselves once more.

Ruby: Phew! That was a close one. Sorry for that. It was the only thing I could think of. But at least they're gone now, right Oscar? 

Oscar: ...

Ruby: Oscar?

Ruby faces Oscar; finding him still staring at her.

Ruby: What's with that face! 

Oscar: I'm sorry! You...kissed me. You actually kissed me.

Ruby: *defensively* Yeah but it was a fake kiss. To help you with the---

Oscar: *frantically* I know I know! It's just...that was...well...my…

Ruby: …Wait, was that...your first kiss?

Oscar: *awkwardly*...Ye---Yeah. Pretty much, yeah. 

Ruby: Oh. Oh no. I’m so sorry!

Oscar: No! No! It's ok. Better you than those girls, right?  Besides...it was fine.

Ruby: *taken aback* Fine?

Oscar: As in good. *embarrassed* It’s…not exactly how I pictured our---I mean…my first kiss being but---y’know…

Ruby: *awkwardly*Well...uh...if it's any consolation, it was my first kiss too so…

Oscar: *incredulously* Wait...WHAT! That cannot be your first kiss. How?

Ruby: What do you mean how?

Oscar: I just...I mean I always figured you of all people would have kissed tons of guys before.

Ruby: Excuse me?

Oscar: I don't mean it any bad way. I just...I always figured a beautiful girl like you would have some tall handsome guy or y’know…several guys waiting for you back home in Vale.

Ruby: *snorts* That's…really weird but really sweet of you to assume but...no.

Oscar: *still in disbelief* Really? Not even at Beacon?

Ruby: Well at Beacon I was pretty much the runt of the school. Youngest huntress to be accepted, remember?

Oscar: Yeah but...you're also pretty amazing.

Ruby: *laughingly* Trust me. If you had met me back then, you wouldn't think that. 

Oscar: I doubt it. If you were just as cool and kind as you are now, I would've liked you sooner. *jokingly* Y’know beat out all those guys in line for your hand.

Ruby: *giggling* Oh please. I didn't even have a date to the school dance. Me having a line of guys chasing after me. That’s rich!

Oscar: I should've been at Beacon. 

Ruby: Why’d you say that?

Oscar: So I could’ve asked you to the dance.

Ruby: *snorts* Pffft! Again, really sweet of you Oscar but… you would’ve been 13. That’s younger than I was.

Oscar: *smiling* So? I'd still ask you.

Ruby: *blushing slightly* Well tell you what? If there's ever another dance, you'd be my first choice for my date.

Oscar: *grinning* I'm going to hold you to that. It’s a date. And…uh… speaking of dates…

Oscar took Ruby’s hand, looking at her warmly.

Oscar: Ms. Rose, would you do me the honour of going on a date with me right now?

Ruby:*snickering* Do me the honour?

Oscar: *embarrassedly* What? Tha---That’s how the guys asked out the girls back home. It’s a farm folk custom!

Ruby:*laughing* You’re not serious!

Oscar: *huffily* It is! You Valerian city girls just don’t know common courtesy.

Ruby: *teasingly* Jokes on you, I’m a Patch girl, born and raised. Besides I meant about the date thing. You’re not serious about that, right?

Oscar: Actually I am. We still have a couple hours to kill before we meet back up with the others, right? And…there’s a perfectly good movie theatre right over there that’s showing all three Grimm Samurais movies with a food court that gives out free popcorn to couples. Besides I think those crazy girls from before might still be lurking around. You mind playing my girlfriend for a few more hours?

Ruby: *excitedly* You had me at Grimm Samurais! Let’s go!

Oscar: *grinning* After you, snookums.

Ruby gave Oscar a weird look; brows raised. Oscar blushed.

Oscar: *defensively* What? It---It’s part of the pretend.

Ruby: Y’know what’s also part of the pretend. You paying for me.

Oscar: What!

Ruby: Now c’mon Oscar, what kind of pretend boyfriend would you be if you didn’t treat your cute pretend girlfriend to our pretend movie date? Isn’t that right pumpkin?

Oscar: *pouting* I’m going to pretend dump you.

Ruby: Can’t cause you’re pretend madly in love with me!

Ruby sticks out her tongue at Oscar playfully before skipping off before he could say anything else. Oscar only shook his head as he only stared after the Silver eyed huntress. He then sighed dreamily.

‘…Or maybe I’m just in love with you for real…’ Oscar thought; an affectionate smile already tugging at his lips. With that, the young farm boy caught up to Ruby; taking her hand in his again as she in turn beamed brightly and tugged him forward in eager excitement, as the two rosebuds entered the mall theater together.

And scene.

Squiggly Scriptwriter’s Commentary:

This has been sitting in my drafts for weeks and I didn’t realize how adorkably cheesy this was until I finished editing it. So much cheese. Hope no one reading is lactose intolerant.

This spawned from the random idea of what if… Ruby fake-out made out with Oscar to get him out of a sticky scenario with a group of fangirls. I quite like the romance trope of the fated pair fake kissing each other for show only for their real feelings to surface later in the plot.

I was planning on releasing this script earlier but…y’know busy bug syndrome got in the way. It wasn’t until I saw @blackhakumen​ beat me to the punch with his own version of the “playing pretend” trope for Rosegarden, that I finally figured it’s about time I finished this. You can almost say his work gave me the push to finally wrap this up! Thanks for the motivation boast with your script Black. If you haven’t, check out Mini Fanfic #64: My Boyfriend by Blackhakumen.

I haven’t written anything this cheesy for Rosegarden since my ‘A-Dork You!’ RWBY Squiggle Script. Good times. I still love that script.

A special thank you bunches of oats to my fellow Garden Rosebud @miki-13​ for loaning me their lovely OCs who cameoed in this script.

The CNRY girls are from Miki’s RWBY fanfic---‘Reconciliation’. If you haven’t already checked it out, I’d definitely recommend it to you guys. It’s a fantastic read that not only tells an excellent interpretive follow-up from the events of V6 but it also includes an original cast of interesting characters. Seriously check it out.

I hope you didn’t mind the cameo Miki. When I first thought up this script, I was originally going to go with a random character but then I remembered your CNRY girls. Sorry if me borrowing them was for something as cheesy as this. The CNRY girls served their part well. I just hope I did your girls justice here.

More RWBY Squiggles Scripts

 ~LittleMissSquiggles (2019)

[gatorwadeh10]

Florida Gators 2020

It comes as no surprise that in most predictions around the college football community have UF as the favorites to go to the SEC Championship this December. With Georgia looking for a new QB to replace Jake Fromm and no real threat besides a typical Kentucky or Tennessee, the Florida Gators seem to have the opportunity of a lifetime. With Kyle Trask and Emory Jones keeping Defenses on their toes, an almost full returning O-Line, and most importantly the weapons to throw to including the best TE in the country Kyle Pitts, the human joystick Kadarious Toney, and the always reliable Grimes next to the up and coming Copeland the offense will be thriving. The worry I see is actually on the defensive side of the ball. The loss of Jabari Zuniga and Jonathan Grenard will slow up the pass rush that really set us apart from LSU and Georgia last season. I am not as worried about the Linebackers and DB’s as Houston pairing with Miller (I’m assuming) and Elam/Wilson will be running the show. Campbell will need to step up into those shoes for his senior year at the nose. His junior stats include 39 total tackles with 4 for a loss and 1 sack. He also was apart of the reason we beat Miami with a forced fumble and the recovery. Next to him we will see most likely Slaton who tallied a decent 29 tackles with 3.5 for a loss and 2 sacks. On the outside, we will see the transfer Brandon Cox from Georgia who missed last season after transferring midway through the year. But he did manage 20 tackles 2 for a loss and 1 sack in only his freshman campaign. I cannot wait to see this young man in action as his Junior year approaches. The man that I predict to be the best on this D-Line is Zach Carter. Although I think he may switch a lot from DT to DE, he still managed 28 tackles with 4.5 for loss and 4.5 sacks. This versatility is what we need on the line. This allows for more stunts on the line and hidden blitz packages.

Do not be surprised when UF waltz through the competition this year with their loaded offense and versatile defense. I can see them easily going undefeated this season with the most obvious struggles against LSU in Week 6 and Georgia in Week 9 after the bye. LSU I think will be a 9-3 team this year. You cannot replace Joe Burrow that fast just like you cannot with Fromm. Also, 14 of their top players were drafted leaving a lot of question marks for them. Yes they still have Chase who will be good if they can get the ball to him and Stingley who is probably the best young CB in college football and a definite top 5 overall but that is 2 and you are still missing 14 essential spots. I think they lose to us, Bama, and either Auburn or an upset from Ole Miss. I think Georgia loses 2 this year. Lost Fromm, both running backs, and Andrew Thompson but still kept an overall decent team. They lose to Alabama Week 3 and then lose to UF Week 9.

I could see UF struggling Week 2 against Kentucky unless things start to get back to normal soon. The lack of practices and camps and the spring game might shake them up with less than 3 months to go until the opener against Eastern WA. Kentucky put us in our place and made us respect them in that game. Franks going down and Trask coming in did turn the tide however. No offense to Franks and I wish him all the best at Arkansas, but he was not the right fit for this team. Trask is the calm and collected under pressure and while I admit he could just have Emory run the ball as he is no Tebow, he does go through progressions beautifully and puts the ball where his receiver has the best chance to get it. I trust he will only get better with the last season upon us. Throwing for the second most yards in the SEC behind Burrow was no small feat also. Having almost 3,000 with a couple games he did not play fully is a great stat line by itself. Throwing 310 yards and 3 TD’s against LSU is even better. I am happy where Mullen has brought us back to and they will be in many peoples prediction for the playoffs.

[bballer24143-blog]

Why Matt Rhule has a chance to be a successful NFL coach

By Sam Mehr                                                                                                      1/28/20

Image courtesy The Athletic

           As the wheels of the NFL coaching carousel churned once again in the winter of 2020, an interesting hire came across the newswires. The Carolina Panthers hired former Baylor coach Matt Rhule as their next head coach to replace veteran coach Ron Rivera. According to Adam Schefter of ESPN, the Panthers doled out a 7 year 60 million dollar contract (which can reach 70 million if incentives are reached). In short, the Panthers made a colossal commitment to a guy who has only 1 year of NFL experience (2012 as an assistant offensive line coach with the New York Giants). Additionally, the track record of head coaches transitioning from college to the NFL has been mixed at best. At any rate, I believe the marriage between Rhule and the Panthers has the chance to be a fruitful one for a variety of reasons.

           Matt Rhule has a strong resume as a winning coach. A former linebacker at Penn State in the mid-1990s, Rhule has been a head coach at Temple University (2013-2016) and Baylor University (2017-2019). Following a 2-10 debut season at Temple, he increased the win total for the Owls over his next three seasons there. He won 10 games in each of his last two seasons at Temple (10-4 in 2015 and 10-3 in 2016). Rhule joined Baylor in 2017, a football program in ruins following a sexual assault scandal that enveloped figures such as head coach Art Briles and president Kenneth Starr. Following a 1-11 inaugural season at the helm, Rhule led Baylor to a 7-6 record in 2018 (including a win over Vanderbilt in the Texas Bowl). In 2019, Baylor finished 11-3, and was invited to the prestigious Sugar Bowl (which they lost to Georgia). The point is that Rhule has consistently turned teams around. Thus, he has the chance to be an elixir for a Panthers team in need of a home improvement, as they have finished 29-35 over the last 4 seasons (with only one playoff appearance) since their Super Bowl trip in 2015.

           Schematically, Matt Rhule has proven himself to be cutting edge. According to Zach Barnett of FootballScoop.com, Rhule ran an offense at Temple that was run-heavy. He utilized big personnel (2 running backs and 2 tight ends on the field at the same time). At Baylor, Barnett noted that he adopted the run-pass option system (a system where, on a given play, the quarterback puts the ball in the belly of the running back and either hands off or pulls the football and passes it). Rhule implemented this offense, Barnett wrote, because he recruited a lot of Texas high schoolers who ran that system at their respective schools. In short, Rhule has proven himself to be adaptable in terms of his x’s and o’s. This flexibility is critical in the NFL, where the opponent changes week to week, and trends throughout the league take hold as time passes by (ie the NFL becoming more pass-oriented in the late 2000s, etc). Finally, Rhule picked a bright young offensive coordinator in Joe Brady. Brady spent two seasons (2017-2018) as an offensive assistant with the New Orleans Saints. He worked under head coach Sean Payton, one of the best offensive minds in the NFL over his 14 seasons and counting with the Saints. Additionally, he got to observe future hall of fame quarterback Drew Brees. In 2019, Brady moved to LSU, a program that won the 2020 College Football Playoff National Championship. Brady won the Broyles Award, an honor granted to the best assistant coach in college football, and assisted an offense that ranked first in all of college football in points per game (48.4).

           Matt Rhule has a personality that is conducive to him being successful in the NFL. Rick Bonnell of the Charlotte Observer wrote in January 2020 that when Rhule was at Baylor, he had an open dialogue with faculty in regards to whether his players were late or not when going to classes. This anecdote shows Rhule demands accountability and discipline from his players, two characteristics that translate well to winning football games. In that same article, Tom Coughlin, the former New York Giants head coach, said about Rhule, “He’s so humble; no ego.” Coughlin later added, “He is very good at helping players get better because he comes off as so human. He’s good about admitting mistakes, and that’s a way of saying he wants to get better and help everyone else get better.” These quotes from Tom Coughlin illustrate that Rhule is a very easygoing person (ie not someone who has an overinflated sense of self), and an open-minded nature. I think these qualities make him relatable to players, who will in turn want to accept his coaching and play hard for him. Matt Lombardo of NJ.com wrote in January 2020 about Rhule. Lombardo spoke with Brandon Noble, a teammate of Rhule’s at Penn State, and an assistant with Rhule at Temple. Noble said, “Matt always had a chip on his shoulder…that idea and that mentality he brought to Temple, all of those kids were reminded of it when we went to play Notre Dame and when they went to play Penn State and eventually beat them. Those guys had that chip-on-their-shoulder mentality. That ‘Temple tough,’ Northeast thing…Matt has it and he gets guys to believe it.” Noble’s quote illustrates that Rhule instills toughness in his players, and toughness is perhaps the most fundamental quality needed in a football team. Additionally, the above quote demonstrates that Rhule is a strong motivator to his players, which is one of the most important traits a coach needs in order to have success.

           The Panthers roster has pieces that Rhule can utilize in order to attain success. Admittedly, there is some uncertainty at the quarterback position. Cam Newton, a former MVP and 3-time Pro Bowler, is recovering from foot surgery, and has a contract that can be voided with only a 2 million dollar salary cap hit. Also, Luke Kuechly, a future hall of fame linebacker, announced his retirement in January. Therefore, things aren’t perfect from a roster standpoint for Carolina. However, there are talented players still left over on both sides of the football. The offensive fulcrum for the Panthers is running back Christian McCaffrey. McCaffrey, a quick, powerful runner who is a great receiver as well, is one of the best players in the NFL.  In addition, the Panthers have D J Moore, a 22 year old wide receiver who caught 87 passes in 2019. Opposite Moore is Curtis Samuel, a versatile receiver who, besides catching the football, is capable of running it on reverses, sweep plays, etc. The Panthers have some talented defensive personnel under contract as well. Defensive tackle Kawann Short is a disruptive player who is stout vs the run, and can push the pocket and rush the quarterback (32.5 sacks over 7 seasons in the NFL). Defensive end/linebacker Brian Burns, the 16th overall pick in the 2019 NFL Draft, is a fast player who is a promising pass rusher (7.5 sacks in his debut season). Finally, the Panthers have linebacker Shaq Thompson. Thompson is a speedy linebacker who is a tremendous athlete (he played linebacker, safety, and running back in college at Washington). Upon signing a 4 year 54 million dollar contract extension in December 2019, general manager Marty Hurney referred to him in a statement as “very versatile” and “the blueprint for what we want at the position.”

           The hiring of Matt Rhule was one that was not without risk. Furthermore, the Panthers gave an astounding commitment both in terms of years and finances to their new head coach. However, Rhule has an excellent resume as a team builder. He is also very intelligent, both in terms of his football iq, and his ability to connect with his players. Finally, he possesses talented players at his disposal. Mixing all the variables together, I absolutely believe that Matt Rhule can be a home run addition for the Carolina Panthers.  

[no-other-words]

let’s take this offline - ch2

synergy is the key to success [read on ao3] kageyama needs to burn that sweater-vest and hinata needs to not get turned on by kageyama’s voice.

---

“Hi, I’m Hinata!”

It feels like he’s repeated this at least ten times now, but the conversation that comes after is never the same. Hinata has met pretty much all the people joining their team and he’s already liking this new bunch.

A meet-and-greet was called forth by Daichi where Kuroo’s team can meet the rest of the Marketing Division, a chance for new faces to introduce themselves and get to know one another. He adds in his memo that breakfast will be included and where there is free food, there is Hinata.

Seeing so many unfamiliar faces causes slight unease in Hinata so after loading up two full plates of fruits and muffins, he sets off to make some new acquaintances.

Oikawa seems like a total douche but the passionate way he talks about his line of work is admirable and Hinata goes starry-eyed. Akaashi is the complete opposite with his calm and collected demeanour and Hinata thinks that Kenma would get along with him. Aone is a tough one to crack but once Hinata mentions animal documentaries, an instant connection is built and he knows it will be a lasting one.

Then there’s the guy sulking in the corner of the room, staring relentlessly at Hinata. Eyes narrowed, brows scrunched, and lips pulled into small pout, he has not moved since Hinata got here. Everything about him is intense—the way he eats his fruits, the way he holds his coffee cup, the way he drinks from his cup.

The only thing that makes him slightly more approachable is the puke-green sweater vest he’s unfortunately wearing. Brave is the man who steps out into society in that.

He’s been avoiding to introduce himself but one can only be so rude for so long. Hinata musters up the courage, summons his biggest smile, and marches right up to the man.

“Good morning! I see you’re enjoying that coffee a lot.” He starts off. “I’m Hi—”

“I know. Your picture doesn’t do you justice.”

Now it’s his turn to stare. The next few seconds was a wild train ride as Hinata witnesses a rainbow of emotions running across the man’s face—shock, dismay, humiliation, and a final colour of cooled restraint. Or at least, as restrained as he can be with that growing flush of his.

Hinata hears the impact of an arrow shooting through his heart.

Then the guy blurts out, “I mean, you’re even harder to look at in person.”

That figurative arrow is then unforgivingly ripped out.

“What did you say?” Hinata growls.

“You just…” He appears to be struggling to find words. “You have that same stupid look—”

“Just give me your name so I know not to work with you in the future.”

“Too late, you already are.” The man takes his hand out for a handshake. “Kageyama Tobio.”

Hinata hisses in responses, slapping his hand away. “I knew there was something sinister about you.”

“Sinister? What the fuck do you mean?!”

Taking a step forward, Hinata says, “You were giving me angry looks the whole time I was here!”

“That’s because all I could see is that dumb picture you have on your Skype profile,” Kageyama says, putting his foot forward. “Take a better one by the way, it hurts my eyes and I don’t appreciate it.”

“Well I don’t appreciate your attitude.”

“You already said that, genius. Try to be original for once.”

Before Hinata can reply, both of them gets a hard pat on the back and they turn to see Kuroo, standing uncomfortably close and wearing an uncomfortably wide smile.

“Well well, we sure are getting acquainted here,” says Kuroo. “It’s always nice to see our staff get along. Makes for good team morale, don’t you think?”

The silent challenge in his eyes makes both Hinata and Kageyama nod. His towering figure looming over Hinata makes it all the more intimidating.

“And Daichi will be especially happy to see us working and flourishing together as one big family, wouldn’t you agree?”

The two men couldn’t nod faster.

“Good.” Kuroo pats their back again. “Play nice.”

Waiting until the manager walks out of hearing range, Kageyama gives Hinata a pointed look. “Listen up moron, I'm not going to throw my reputation down the drain in front of my boss and Daichi just because some dimwit doesn't know how to do his job correctly."

Hinata grits his teeth. The two-faced, no-good, jer—

“Grab your laptop and come to my desk. I’ll take a look at your dumb report.”

A truce.

Okay, he takes it all back. Maybe this guy’s not all that bad.

Wait.

"Why don’t you come to my desk?" Hinata asks.

Kageyama gives him an incredulous look. "Because we're already on my floor so why the hell do I need to go to the 23rd? This is your problem anyway."

"Caused by your data!"

"Just…" Kageyama takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. He rubs the bridge of his nose before brushing back his bangs, revealing a weirdly alluring forehead. "Just, come. Okay? Let me see what I can do."

Maybe it’s the way Kageyama finally pulls back. Not giving in, but receding for now to let things cool before both their hotheads steam up again. Maybe it’s also how he decides to lower his voice, as an attempt for cease-fire. It sounds smoother, low and solid, and eases Hinata’s defenses down.

Realizing that he still hasn’t replied, Hinata clears his throat. "Fine, give me fifteen minutes."

Kageyama raises his eyebrows. "It takes you that long to get up there?”

His personality is as horrid as that sweater-vest of his.

---

In all honesty, if it wasn't for his serious lack of charm, Hinata would've thought Kageyama as a slightly-above-average looking guy. He's decently-built, no doubt smart, and has a pretty face to boot (when it's not scrunched in negativity). Brown eyes are so common here so it's refreshing to see a person with blue ones.

Hinata first discovers them when they sit together to look at his broken report. Kageyama’s focusing on the screen in front of him, concentration level up 110%. He’s seated tightly against his desk, hands on mouse and keyboard moving ever so swiftly to navigate around the computer. Like a machine, he processes the report methodically and Hinata…well Hinata’s eyes explore the office setting.

And then at Kageyama. He’s currently addressing him about something, but Hinata doesn’t really listen because he realises that Kageyama’s eyes are not black but in fact a dark shade of blue. It’s hard to tell, what with the man glaring at you half the time.

“Are you even listening?”

“Your eyes are blue.”

This puts a stop to Kageyama’s scowling. He straightens up and looks back to the screen, muttering, “What of it?”

Hinata shakes his head in defence. “No I mean, I just think that’s cool. They’re so dark and…” He leans in closer to get a better look. The colour is so deep that Hinata’s mistaken them for black, to his shame, and Hinata finds Kageyama’s eyes are so intense that—

“It’s nice,” he says.

Kageyama visibly swallows. “Nice.”

Hinata nods with a smile. “They’re a nice colour.”

They find out what went wrong with the report that day. It’s neither Kageyama’s data nor Hinata’s report that is that the cause but some data-transfer issue that becomes too technical for them to solve. Surprisingly, Kageyama offers to help Hinata find the right contact and email them.

And that’s how Kageyama stumbles across the 400+ unread emails buried in Hinata’s inbox. He calls it a wrongdoing, uncivilized, an absolute abomination, and Hinata should be ashamed of himself for letting the situation get this far. Hinata in turn has no idea what’s so wrong about it until he seems Kageyama’s pristine clean mailbox.

That day is when Hinata learns of how diligent Kageyama is. How he makes sure to meticulously file his emails into folders structured in a hierarchal fashion, how he has 0 draft emails while Hinata has more than 10 because he isn’t all that great at finishing emails and he often forgets.

Kageyama’s desktop is a mirror of his inbox—clear and simple with only three icons to select on. His folders are neatly organized and easy to navigate around. His sticky notes line perfectly against each other, same width same height, and not a pixel disproportionate.

It’s all kind of endearing, really.

That and the fact Kageyama goes nuts over Hinata’s own desktop, filled with documents and software—some misnamed, some just having the default Untitled, and some with the asdf name. That one particular text file with the name asdfdsasdfasdafdasd is certainly one that drives Kageyama insane. He calls it a calamity waiting to happen.

Hinata likes to call it organized chaos.

Kageyama refuses to let it go, even a few days later, when Hinata emails him again with some work-related questions, and he lords over Hinata’s improper use of the signature block. Until this point of time, Hinata wasn’t even aware that it was actually a thing—isn’t your name enough to let someone know who sent the message?

Kageyama, Tobio [11:39 AM] It’s to show which team you’re in and your credibility.

Hinata, Shouyou [11:40 AM] ok fine team i get the credibility part i don’t what i work on reflects that

Kageyama, Tobio [11:43 AM] It’s also just corporate etiquette. It’s good to let people know who they’re speaking to.

Hinata, Shouyou [11:44 AM] ha u know im way past corp etiquette and they can find out who i am when they talk to me why give them something to put a box around me?

Kageyama doesn’t reply after that. Nevertheless Hinata takes what is advised and constructs an email signature. He might as well be half-civilized in the corporate world. Kageyama better be happy.

Their interactions are sporadic. Even though Kuroo’s team is now an extension of Daichi’s crew, it’s decided that it’s best not relocate everyone. At first, Hinata reaches out when he needs help, for purely work-things. Eventually, he gets used to the idea of bothering the snappy man because no matter how annoying he knows he’s being, Kageyama always answers.

Kenma is a victim of Hinata’s scattered attention. He tolerates Hinata with the Skype chats and over-the-desk conversations and by tolerate, it means half-listening and sometimes entertaining a response if he feels like it. The other guys on the team is more willing to join in, Nishinoya throwing in words of wisdom while Tanaka writes a book about it.

But Kageyama—Kageyama listens. He yells and questions and replies in way that makes Hinata want to talk with him more. His perfect grammar and formal wordings is as infuriating as it is charming. Never is a chat-window more of a juxtaposition than seen before. Kageyama is a big nerd and he can’t deny it.

Especially with that atrocious sweater-vest.

Hinata tells him what he needs to hear.

Kageyama, Tobio [3:11 PM] What’s wrong with it? Does it have a hole in the back?

Hinata, Shouyou [3:12 PM] r u joking it’s something my great granddad would’ve worn doesn’t go well with your skin

Kageyama, Tobio [3:14 PM] i don’t say anything about your bowtie

Hinata, Shouyou [3:15 PM] whats wrong with my bowtie?!?!!

Kageyama, Tobio [3:23 PM] It’s distracting.

He doesn’t elaborate afterwards. In fact, Kageyama goes offline for the next hour. Worried, Hinata goes to the restroom to check on his bowtie. Is it crooked? Tied unevenly? Does it clash with his shirt? He’s had the idea of developing a statement about his person in the office and his statement is his bowties.

He plans to ask just what about them offends Kageyama on a call they’d setup to talk over some project. Shimizu informs Hinata of an upcoming proposal that Daichi wants to explore next year. Apparently this project will heavily involve Kuroo’s team, Kageyama’s area of expertise in particular. They might as well start that conversation early so Hinata books a meeting call.

When he hears the beep of someone joining the line, Hinata opens his mouth to greet the person until he’s stopped short.

“Hello, it’s Kageyama.”

Oh.

Oh no.

A warm shiver runs down his back before rising up to the top of his head. Smooth, sultry, and rich is all he hears. It’s like creamy milk chocolate running smoothly down your throat, warming the rest of your body. It’s the afternoon sun on a calm autumn day, the quiet hum of a fire, the lullaby sung gently into your ears.

The sound of Kageyama’s husky voice is a surprise and it does things to Hinata’s heart.

“Hello?”

“Oh, hi yes!” He hopes Kageyama cannot hear the breathlessness in his voice.

Hinata grips the phone hard during the entire call. He attentively listens to Kageyama’s lull, finding a rhythm to his voice. He sounds so different over the phone—calmer, at ease. Definitely doesn’t have that same bite when he’s in your face all the time. There’s a solidity to his tone, confident and so sure of himself in the best way. It mirrors the way he writes.

He likes that solidity.

Kageyama starts sharing his screen with Hinata, something about wanting to share a PowerPoint deck. Kageyama can share any sort of deck with h—

Hinata stops. He stops right there before it goes any farther.

He clears his throat long and hard, puffing out a harsh breath as if to expel all wicked thoughts. Kageyama is a decent-looking guy, but just that. Just your regular, average-built man with a less-than-average fashion sense.

“Something wrong?”

“Nothing,” squeaks Hinata.

“Can you send me the file again? I want to have a comparison.”

Look at him, sweating over some man’s voice while said man is working hard and serious on the other side of the phone. Hinata needs to pull it together.

He sends the file over Skype, watching as his profile picture pop up on Kageyama’s desktop and grimacing.

“I really need to change my photo,” he says.

Kageyama clicks his tongue over the phone, casually adding, “I think you’re fine.”

Hinata’s heart skips a beat.

Oh no.

---

a/n: if you think those last 2 lines said over the phone was made up, think again. :)

[rosheendubh]

S7S8 Draft Rewrite GoT...

—YouTube Game of Thrones film edit/rewrite challenge: —It’s Long, the formatting is terrible, and it’s really more a thread of ideas than a proper outline. But I’m throwing the challenge out there—can some talented YouTube montage editor reel back and mash up GOT Seasons 7 and 8 to match what I’ve drabbled down below?Which is essentially 1 of 1000 other (mostly wonderful) rewrite ideas to help where D&D got a little lost. Honestly, just add some 2 Steps From Hell Soundtrack background, varied clips from the previous S7 and S8 in the order I’ve described below—and ‘voila’!!—our more satisfying conclusion to the last 9 years of fangrrl obsessions... Thanks, I’ll love you forever (and would happily clean this up to be more reader-friendly) if you could do this!!

...or rather, how it should have been written...

There were about a thousand alternative plot lines the GoT authors could have chosen to develop S7 and S8. Basically, they ignored every one of them which would have been better than the drivel they chopped out and spewed Willie-Nillie to hurry up and deliver the blandest tripe to neutralize drama more effectively than a junior-high level theatrical recreation of Shakespeare... —This Post is long, and is also an indulgence of therapy, involving shameless GoTs fangrrling and GeekGrrling... For starters, they was an entirely plausible method to Daenerys’s destruction of King’s Landing, but it would have involved reeling back S7 to only address the Battle for King’s Landing, as the threat of the Night King decended on the North in the background. Keep Jon Snow at Dragon’s Keep/Island Targaryan, mining Dragon Glass, whilst Dany views the motives of the North suspiciously, and rather than battling stupid minor campaigns across Westeros, just concentrates her full force armies+ 3 Dragons on King’sLanding (taking the advice of Olenna earlier than she ought—still as a conqueror, and ruthless, but not psycho...), shattering the Red Keep. Tyrion, somehow, can still wheedle into the city, offering Jamie the chance to get Cersei out despite her refusal to leave...until it’s apparent the RedKeep is about to collapse. Team Cersei (the Mountain, Qyburn) manage to escape through the crypts to that random boat, heading off to CasterlyRock, laying low wisely, beaten and bereft of an army, but not their loyal houses who are leery of the returned Targaryen, trying to regroup allies. Cue—NOW Euron enters with his fleet, to Casterly Rock, offering his undying love to Cersei, and his ships... Meanwhile, collateral damage expected with the RedKeep’s destruction, with some innocent lives, the city overall remains preserved for occupation by Dany’s forces. It’s ambivalence with which the people greet her rather than the gratefulness and joy she anticipated, and she realizes the first truth of governance: a conqueror does not a ruler make...but has little time to ponder this conundrum with Varis and Tyrion as her main advisors, before word is received simultaneously of Cersei and Jamie’s escape—engineered by the only person who could possibly have known out to get them out of the Keep. Her Hand. Cue: Tyrion is arrested. Jon, stranded on Dragon’s Keep, with a skeleton guard only, receives word from the Wall of the Army of the Dead at the Wall. Supposedly, they can’t pass b/c ‘the dead and spells protecting the integrity of the Wall’—but there they stand, just at the boundary of the World of the Living. Jon enacts a daring escape with Team Stark/Snow—killing the men Dany left to hold them in custody, and gets back to his ship, sailing back to Stark holdings in a haste to prepare an unprepared North. Dany, pulled on 2 fronts—between Lannisters and Starks—and holding a city barely in her grip, is forced into a quandary. Jon appeals to her once more (via flying pigeons of course) to come to the aid of the North, in exchange for which he will bend the knee, and promise the submission of the North as well—upping the ante on tension between his loyalty to save the North vs his devotion to serve the North, possibly compromising his own position with his nobles and his family. Bran, by this point, delivered back to Winterfell/Home Stark, learns of Jon’s true heritage, and perhaps informs him then. Or not... Meanwhile, Dany’s dual nature between compassionate queen versus ruthless conqueror asserts itself, and she knows what the right thing, the true thing is to do. You know, like she had shown through the previous 6 seasons of the show. She commits a significant portion of her armies, and her Dragons north, haunted by the carvings Jon had her shown under Dragon Stone (still preserving that scene from S7) the first time in their brief meeting where sparked admiration and attraction between the two—something both were resisting and ignoring at that time. Since D&D evidently left her enough of an army of horsemen and Unsullied in the actual show after the battle of WinterFell, to occupy the cinders of KingsLanding, I’m guessing in my rewrite, Dany has enough of an army to leave behind and maintain her control of King’s Landing, whilst driving her forces North... Concurrently, we have Team Lannister, courtesy of EuronGreyJoy Water Ubers, sailing to Bravos, aquiring  that massive loan from the IronBank, and that absolutely useless GoldenCompany. In this rewrite, they’re more effective, AND BS on elephants. If Hannibal could herd them through the Alps, over the seas from Africa, Drogon’s Balls that they couldn’t also show up in Westeros...Cersei, my villainess supreme vixen, you get your elephants in my version! Scene—Rejuvenated Lannister mercenary army heading back to KingsLanding...S7 concludes... —S8: the battle of the Wall hangs by a thread, but somehow, sans a Dragon this time, the NightKing manages to kill one of the Watchers on the Wall, and wight-over Castle Black, and every other fort along the Wall, with only a few stragglers escaping down to WinterFell, barely ahead of the Zombie Apocolypse. Of course, Thormund is with them—my ginger lover of Brienne the Magnificent. —Jon rallies what meager mortal defenses he might, all collected at WinterFell, fortified as fortified might be thanks to Sansa’s adept hand at administration. We’re still plagued by LittleFinger in this canon, and at some point, Arya arrives back as well, having heard of the victory of the Dragon Queen at KingsLanding, and the advance of Dany’s forces North. Enter: Brothers W/o Banners, with RedPriestess, knowing their destiny is finally upon them. WinterFell is razed, but Dany’s forces arrive at the last minute—we relive that scene where she comes like a flying avenger, rescuing Jon and a small group of determined fighters from imminent death. Or, maybe his comrades die, or scatter in the confusion. Heroic Rhagel, lowers his head and offers his wing to Jon in an oddly sequestered moment, cut off from the dying and destruction abounding. It doesn’t take Jon much prompting from Dany, amid battle chaos, to tell him what to do. And Jon—grown into a less doormat version of himself than what D&D seem to have conceived (ie, awakening his alpha male, to match Dany’s alpha female, rather than the psycho femme-fatal into which mutated her)—mounts Rhagel just at the moment a White Walker is about to skewer Jon. DireWolf style, awesome Ghost makes DireWolf kibble if WhiteWalker, but not before WhiteWalker stabs Ghost fatally. Jon’s anguish is tangible on his perpetually constipated facade, but the symbolism is clear. Kill the Wolf; awaken the Targaryan Dragon... —Night King faces Dany. Drogon roasts Night King unsuccessfully. Night King targets Viserys and launches Ice Javelin at the moment Drogon is trying to roast Night King. *WeepyTearsSerial HeartAttacks* as dying dragon crashes out the sky to ground... All battle pauses for a horrified moment, even the dead. And the Night King, to the shock of the Northern forces, and Dany’s host, even past a Dsny paralyzed for a fateful moment by the frigid gaze of the Night King upon her, resurrects Vicerys. Thus, we avoid the awkward *where in the world did all those chains come from to haul dead dragon out of water at the end of S7*. Dany, reeling from the sudden loss of Vicerys, and rendered lost momentarily, processing the fact her dragons do have vulnerabilities, and seeing the horror around her, the inevitable defeat, draws courage from Jon in that moment, whatever words he speaks, maybe in reprimand for her momentary weakness/no time to grieve/living need us to provide retreat...and off they go, defending the remaining survivors of WinterFell, sacrificing the North, in order to fight another day. The remaining forces of Dany, and Jon, the Starks having escaped, and the rag-tag few of others, including Brienne, the Stark Sisters (Bran?? Ugh, fine...but we’re bringing Meera, thank you very much...), the Hound, Thormund/some Wildings-Black Watch, etc... They arrive at whatever sea-port is closer, Yara’s fleet awaiting their arrival, disheartened and horrified by the remnant few survivors...and 1 less dragon. —Now, of course the Dead are forcing them to the shore’s very edge, but they manage overall, to make-off safe. Back to King’s Landing or Dragon Stone/Drsgons Keep (can’t keep up with the fortress names...)?? Who knows...DragonStone would actually make more sense, allowing for regroup/recoop time, but not time they can really afford to lose. but it does allow for sending communication to KingsLanding, and for Jon to expresshis reservations about Dany’s wish to incinerate the city, CUE: speech about “just becoming one more shit-thing ‘the people’ have always known...”S7. —Somehow, maybe via Jorah and Samuel Tarly re-entering the tale at this juncture, having been to KingsLanding, and discovering it’s under siege by Team Lannister, w/their varied mercenary and allied houses, cutting Dany’s forces off inside, w/Cersei and Co outside, finally breaching the Walls through subterfuge, and retaking the City in a vicious street-to-street encounter between Dany’s occupying garrison, and Cersei’s army, with Euron’s navy blockading the harbor...whatever is Tyrion to do, whilst Messandi, who had been left to administer in Dany’s authority, is taken hostage by Team Cersei...but spared the Mountain. Whatever is Tyrion to do??  Tries to find a cord of sympathy and doubt in Jamie, as Tyrion warns their victory is temporary. Cross the Dragon Queen once, and she may still have an element of mercy. Cross her twice, and ‘show no mercy’ becomes the law... Of course, spliced amid the battles are the quiet moments of character interaction, and dialogue—especially for the interval on the ship. A desperate gambit has been made to Cersei, warning of the Army of the Dead, approaching King’sLanding...by Pigeon Courier again, I suppose?? —At DragonStone-recuperating—Touching and tender character crossings ensue—Jorah with Dany. The Hound with Arya and Sansa. The Hound, finding that unexpected something with this new, tough-as-nails-Sansa (pu’leeze—had they not hinted at this in the books, I wouldn’t go here, but more than Dany and Jon, I was always rooting for a feasible blossoming, hestant, bittersweet romance between these two... but one that endures as the human side of love, promising hope the future, as opposed to Jon and Dany’s epic, Star-crossed doom...). —And, revelations—Dany. Jon. Targaryen. Stark. Dany’s purpose for conquering Westeros seems insignificant, trivial now, compared to the existential threat of the Night King. Consequently, she’s lost and confused, in what her destiny had been, or she thought it had been, and what her new purpose appears to manifest as/seems to imply. There’s still the stage of the Iron Throne; there’s still Cersei, and the Lannister threat, but it’s larger now, than a mere struggle to “take back what is mine”. And Jon, there’s Jon. To whom Rhagel bowed, and allowed Jon to ride. And she knows, even without Bran’s stoner-revelation, what this means. But Bran’s words at least shine clarity over the conflict of her emotions with Jon, and given him a name. Aegon. The realization has left Jon as unmoored as she. —Jon swears his siblings/now cousins to silence despite Sansa’s protest, “I ask as your brother/kinsman, but I command it as your king. You’ll say nothing of this to anyone—vow upon the Wolf of the North/Jon’s Sword—until I’ve spoken to Daenerys Targaryen alone. Nothing,” he repeats, emphasis. —Arya, wary but loving Jon as always, bows her loyalty. Bran remains stoic, and Sansa erupts in vehemence in their duty to the North. Jon, temper breaking in his grief and confusion, rallies/counters in a heated voice, “What North, Sansa? What North? You saw what the Night King did, can do. There’s nothing left of the North, except for those of we who’ve survived.” —Sansa, “who are now at her mercy. How convenient for her grab at power. It ought to be you, Jon. Aegon. You are the—“ His gaze grows cold, silencing her, though her eyes still challenge him. “Don’t say it,” dangerous and low. For love of him, not fear, does Sansa hold her tongue. —Jon asks Bran if he can see the future, lend some direction, but Bran, in that hollow voice, helplessly admits, “It’s only darkness across the kingdoms. The skies of ice and land of snow and night. He marches on KingsLanding. You need to tell her, he’s raised Vicerys. Balefire devours the land from the north to Vales of Europe, on the edge of Passes of ___. Even water will no longer stop him.” — Later, alone in her meeting room, Jon and Danny speak. He tells her the truth, the veracity confirmed by Sam’s own discovery in the Chronicles kept by the WhiteTower. And Danyboiints our the obvious, as he’s the last male heir of House Targaryen, and heir to the Iron Throne. -Jon rejects the words. “I don’t care. I don’t want it. I made a vow to you, a promise as the King of the North, and it is as that King I still speak. You came to us, in our hour of need, when you might have done otherwise. You came, and fought, your men died at our sides. For the North.” -Dany, bitterly interjects, “For what little good it did.” Jon, gratitude and tenderness at once, “There would be none of us left here if you hadn’t. I am sworn to you, and so is the North. As Jon or as...as Aegon,” he stumbles. “As a Stark, and a Targaryen. You’re not the last of your house, Dany.” —(Borrowing from the scene after the feast at Winterfell, where they’re in Jon’s chambers, conversing, about to get it on, *true chemistry there and too bad they didn’t capitalize on that, nor let the characters/actors express that more going from S7*—until she becomes MeanGirl drama, and he gets DoorMat Mopey...which does not happen here in my canon—so out of character for both by this point)... -Dany, staring into the flames, searching, asks seeking, “What do we do now?” “It doesn’t matter anymore. Ice and fire, is what we are, Dany.” His presence is a warmth, solid and strong, as he comes behind her, his hands upon her shoulders, gentle and commanding/impelling, turning her toward him, tipping her chin up so she meets his eyes, she trembles in their strength as she holds herself proud, stiff in her pride, fearful and hoping at once, knowing and not wanting to know how much he wants of her-spirit and Fire, courage and compassion, the sacrifice and losses litters upon their paths, in a journey they’ve traversed from opposite sides of these tortured lands, to build something of hope, from the wreckage others have tried to make of their lives and visions, adversaries unknowingly making them stronger, but that strength, every victory, every triumph come at great cost to ideal and faith. Until, at this crossroads where each find themselves, there’s one certainty as clear as dawn upon a crystal sky, that what they’ve found in each other is home. Refuge and sanctuary, fated and as inevitable as breath to the living, and water to the thirsty. And despite hopeless causes, for Westeros or against the Night King, who closes further south at a dread pace, collecting minions as he festers thorough the territories to KingsLanding, his wight Dragon a thing of terror and near invulnerable destruction, despite family secrets and secret shame—they no longer resist the fate of Ice and Fire. *BombChickaBombBomb* — The same night, Sansa in her hurt at her brother’s...cousin’s...stance, so foreign he seems with this new persona, the half brother, the bastard brother she’s always known, her savior at a time when they didn’t know if any of their family still lived, the victor of WinterFell, the King of the North, Jon Snow—Aegon...a Targaryen. Hardly seemed possible, but there it was, by Bran and in writing. She wanted to weep and rage, claw out his eyes, and beg him in tears, that they would still love him, always love him, and not trust this Dragon Queen. Who, to be fair, she’s exchanged less than two lines of formal greeting since they’d arrived as exiles from the ravaged north, here in the mother isles of the Targaryens. So what if it was Lyanna rather than Ned. He was still a Stark. She wanders aimless, and annoyed, avoiding Baillesh b/c she hasn’t the capacity for quicknrejoinders and subtle ploys to elude his ever stagnant coveting of her body, and her status—the Lady of WinterFell. A WinterFell that’s no more, decimated by an army of wights and corpses brought to motion. Through varied corridors, the rooms lent to the women, the main hall and even the bloody kitchens, out along the palisade, the quest for solitude seems, like everything else that dreary day, to thumb Sansa like a demon shadow spiting the one thing she truly wants right now. To be alone. Finally, she wanders into a thankfully ruined, deserted anteroom that must have been an old armory once, shuttered and closed off by poorly fitted wooden slabs rotting off their nails. She ducks under the barrier of a half hinged door that groans in age and rust, coughing at the dust motes stirred by her skirts. On a pile of shambled furnishings she collapse finally, leaning back to close her eyes, rest against the stones behind her, in the darkness—a peak of setting sun slanting between tattered curtains, the ocean breeze seeepingvaway mold and must, painting shadows across the neglected room. At last, precious, precious silence. “You too, eh, little bird?” Sansa startles upright, eyes casting about fretful, jar to her nerves turning immediately to anger. She bites out in rapid annoyance how impossible it is to find a coffin’s width of space to be alone, asking in the same breath what the Hound is doing in a dank chamber, away from his new found brethren. “I came here to sleep. The Dothraki dontvlike to be where they can see no sky, and those castrates from Essos believe these lower corridors are haunted. Ghosts or rats, anything out of the dark will still be quieter than the shits above who want to drink and mourn all night for their woes at the eve of our doom.” The wryness in her voice seems a trait that’s emerged more fully in the years she’s matured into her true power, trusting her own instincts, and realizing she too, has a penchant for authority and presence. The Lady of Winterfell. “Seeking the impossible.” He lights a lamp, the kind men carry on encampments and the March. “What’s that? A cock and some sweet words in the night?” She would have blushed and choked at such coarse words long ago. But she’s known much worse since the days when she was his little bird. The look she shoots him is ironic, as is her tone. “Silence. It seems at premium right now.” The Hound laughs, “The last thing most men want on the vantage of their deaths. There’s an eternity of silence, after, little bird. It’s why there’s always so much drinking, song, and whoring before battles.” Sansa, “Shouldnt they save that till after the battle is won?” His face darkens. “We won’t win this one, little bird. Even with this Dragon Queen. Even with your brother.” The word, brother, makes her wince. He sees that, peering at her curiously. He passes her the flagon he’d been nursing. “Ah, that’s it, eh? He’s fallen under her spell, and you don’t trust that.” She sips, readying herself for some sort of home brew, that burning liquor said to peel the insides of men with one swig, and shit fire the next day. One swallow and it’s a sweet pungency of grapes and sun, autumn spice on the next. “____wine? This was from our cellars.” Her brow raised, his cheeky look, an almost grin ghosts over his face. “It seemed a shame to sacrifice all of it. Berick salvaged what he could, getting it into one of the wagons in our retreat. Drink up, little bird. It the swansong of your home.” He had that penchant for barbs that can wound and comfort both. She remembers that, but thecway he delivers them now is gentler, spoken in the tone of melancholy. A man who’s known grief, and survived. Who’s dealt death, and now admits his struggles with his own ghosts. That part is new. Something happened to him in the years they’ve been apart. Sansa not sure how to reconcile this as weakeness or a strength for him. “Wine was never our chosen beverage. Ale and beer were marks of Northmen. And women.” He takes the flagon back. “Like your brother, no doubt, little bird. A man of the North. And all those tough as steel fuckers who will follow him to the very edge of the world and beyond.” “My brother is not my brother,” the words spilling past her conflicted mind before she can stop them. “He’s...”, Anger curls her fingers, pinching her spine straight, her eyes furious upon him. Which makes Sander suddenly throw his head back, true deep laughter surging into the darkness, until he’s holding his gut, trying to catch his breath. Her indignation riles him more. “Why is that so funny to you?” “Ah, little bird,” he quiets into a solemnity she almost finds harder to bear than his unpredicated amusement. “Of course he’s not a Stark. He’s a Targaryen.” Her gasp, the struggle to regain her poise before she completely betrays her oath to Jon...Aegon. Jon. He’ll always be Jon, prompts Sandor to handing her the flask again. Something, a sip, the motion to salavage her shattered nerves. “How-“ she coughs on the rich vintage. “How did you know?” “He rode a dragon, Sansa,” he says, laconic as always. “I usually punched or skewered most of my tutors, but even I listened to the old tales sometimes, as a boy. Fire. Fire will never harm him.” His eyes clouded by the memory of his own sadistic brother, his large hand moving up, caught and curled back against his lap, the puckered scars ravage his scalp, half his brow. Out of reconciliation, she returns the flask so he can escape from his own past in that easing warmth of wine. “He’s still a Stark,” she says definable. Possessively. “He was Lyanna’s son, by Rhaeger. It was a love match. They were married in secret to keep him safe from the Baratheons.” His short laugh holds only bitterness. “And everything that’s come from that day to this, every life lost, every mother left weeping, houses ruined, and villages burned, has been based on a lie. Because some fat cunt of a lord couldn’t understand how a Stark girl would find him repulsive compared to the perfection of a silver haired Targaryen. Even when they’re mad as rabid dogs.” She can appreciate his glum, but feels compelled to amend his sour appraisal, perhaps out of mercy for her brother, who she knows was struggling with this revelation in his own confusion. She clears her throat, signaling with a glance at his flask to hand the wine back to her. “They say Robert was actually handsome back then. And Rhaeger wasn’t mad.” “Yet. He didnt have a chance to be. But he was impulsive, and self-serving. He left his lawful wife the moment your aunt crossed his sight, and never considered once, the consequences his act would bring. Only cared to serve the golden dragon between loins, and thought your aunt was the answer to his destiny—Elia, Dorne, and the Kingdom be damned. What is it, about you Stark women, little bird? Makes men think with their cocks, and dream impossible feats.” His eyes shine with wine glaze and ruefulness, and but his words remain unslurred. She recalls the tankards he could drown, and still be sitting upright with a steady strike of his sword, where other men had long before sleptvin the puddles of their own vomit. Her own mind buzzed with just the edge of dizziness and daring, enough to loosen her tongue in the same way it’s made him nostalgic. She has a suspicion when he’s not angered in his wine haze, he euther hets mopey or morose, neither mood does she seek right now in her own tormented heart, shadowed byvwhat the coming days hold. “I’m not your little bird, anymore, Sandor Clegan.” The sadness in his voice almost takes her from this edge of ire to grief. “I know that, lit-Sansa,” hecsays softly. Her name though, how he shapes it. She’s only heard him speak like this once before. That night. That night she should have trusted him, and left KingsLanding. “I knew that when you told me you knew no more songs, and the little bird lost her voice. It took all your courage to look me in the face when you said that. Now...now you don’t even flinch to meet my eyes. Have I grown so less threatening?” Sansa aches for something lost, something of this feeling, a final sorrow or a hope that died with Jon’s true heritage. “My father was a killer. My brothers are killers. The world was made by killers.” His eyes hold hers steady, firm before her judgement, something cold and brittle and hurtful finally surfacing in all the years she’s kept it down. Never soothed, even with Ramsay’s death, never gloried nor indulged b/c she refused to become like the beasts who had made her journey to womanhood a living hell. But she knows what’s been lost, and knows can never be recovered of innocence. Delusions, she knows now, fantasies that her father and brothers doated upon her, thinking they could protect her, did her a favor by sheltering her from the realities of men and the world. None of them, not even her mother, tried to teach her how to be strong. That, she learned on her own. And the price wasn’t her violated body or the trauma of Ramsay’s perversions. Memories that still creep into her nightmares. The cost was the betrayal of her father, her brothers, and her family, for thinking women needed to be sheltered and protected, and never allowed to mature into their independence—to fail or thrive by their own intellect or grace. That seed of resentment fills her words now, and flashes in her eyes, hardening everything about her to steel and ice, b/c Sandor too, felt the same way once. His uncommon chivalry toward her, she sees now, was his own fumbling attempt to shelter her. Little Sansa. Little Bird. “I learned where true monsters lurked, hidden behind the faces of men. And I survived them. But you would have have done me a favor, Sandor, to have finished what those assailants started that day you saved me from the rioters who meant to kill Geoffrey. It would have spared me my continued delusions. Stupid little Sansa, and her stupid little fantasies. You would have shown me much more efficiently what I learned anyway, what the real world was truly rife in, of monsters and traitors and liars.” The words twist out of him in a whisper. “Alas, the she wolf has arrived.” That hasn’t changed, at least, his mockery of her, though it’s more a gentle ribbing. He short rejoinder dies, when he adds, “We aren’t all that way, Sansa. Not all men, even the killers amongst us.” She dares for his touch, reaching toward him, a test worthy of Baillesh, querying in how he might react. Almost laughs, but swallows it down when she sees the terror and surprise pale his face, the half not ruined by fire, she notices now, truly studying him, handsome in its bold lines, the shape of contemplation in deepest eyes and the long jaw. A poet’s mouth, her light touch traces the gouged flesh of old burns. “I know that,” she says. “But I too, have learned to kill. I still don’t think it’s killers who make the world though.” He hand wanders back to her lap. “I would never have hurt you. I protected your sister, as well as I knew how, anyway. I would protect you.” She’s sighs, feeling a smile pass, glinting eyes upon him, her turn to mock, cruel smirk. “I don’t need a champion. I already have one,” the pointed remark stinging his ego enough to break his disconcerting sadness, as he shifts with the uncomfortable reminder of his defeat at the hands of Brienne of Tarth. “And Arya is practically an army to herself.” A condsering look passed between them, of understanding and admiration of her younger sister, whose skills were still something of a puzzlement. Part of her sister’s book of sorrows and secrets, she sees now, and knows Arya may never share those empty years with her. And Sansa has made her peace with that. As she has with Bran and the uneasy aura of power and old magic that hangs about him, despite the illusion of flawless youth molding his fine features. “Still, I would never have harmed you, Sansa. And whatever you think, of men who mistook ignorance to preserve innocence, I never shared that belief. You were the only thing in that rotten court that was sweet and good, pure. And brave. Brace enough to stand up and defend your belief in the world’s goodness, and the honor of men, even in the face of your fear. You don’t know how scared Ivwas of that, how you saw right through me, straight to that cowering, quivering little pissant deep inside. You were gentle tough, even with him. I wanted...that. Wanted you.” “Stop,” she pleads roughly. “I know. I know all of that.” How can one feel so alone and share such proximity with another human, intimacy it’s own bridge and wall. “I dreamt of you, after that night the Blackwater was almost lost. Dreamt you kissed me, and wrapped me your cloak before you took me with you. And I felt so safe. So loved. That dream was where I would go, in the worst moments with...Ramsay. I almost,” she says with a wistful smile, “convinced myself it was real at some point.” “I make him suffer a thousand fold—“ “Shh,” her finger over his lips, Her solemn look quiets him. “His death was mine alone to render, and he died as deserved. By the jaws of the creatures who he thought loved him most.” The grim satisfaction she still feels, hearing his screams as they gradually turned to groans wet with with a gargling of blood, and the snorts and snarls of feeding dogs who feast before their victim is truly dead, terrifies her, the euphoria of power and absolution. Sansa has enough inner counsel to realize the temptation of that road, how easy to become the thing one wishes to destroy. Her burning hatred died with him, but nothing, the nothingness has never rebounded, never found anything to restore whatcwas lost in the months of her torture. He’s patient and tender with this awareness, somehow knowing as he had with her brother. “It’s still too soon, isn’t it. After Bolton’s stench, for you to want another man.” A statement, so blunt it might have been callous, but so very Hound-like. How comfortable, relieving it is, to keep nothing hidden, and not have to explain herself. How perturbing that she can discuss something so vile and recent to her past, and shroud it in a casual shrug, the twitch of revulsion the only betrayal of how close her disgust still hovers. “That. And evading Baillesh’s advances while preserving diplomacy. He would make a nanny goat in heat go cold.” “That little weasel,” he growled. “His own shadow doesn’t trust him.” She glances at him sidelong. “B/c his own shadow knows better,” she says dryly. “Fortunately, he’s still too terrified from WinterFell to remember how to be subtle/crafty and scheming. You can’t buy off a Wight, and you can’t blackmail the Night King. He actually tried to persuade me to spend the night with him by claiming these could be our last ones before we die.” Perhaps it was the lamplight, but Sandor looked like he’d eaten bad oysters, an expression between rage or nausea, like he was fighting down bile stained the muscles of his jaw. “Drink, Clegan. Before you get sick. He claims to love me, and won’t touch me. He’s still too guilty for having been called out selling me off to the Bolton’s. I told him desperation wasn’t becoming in tempting a woman to bed. Besides, I heard him scream when he was about to be overrun by those Zombies. He sounded like a terrified rabbit. Nothing douses passion more than that. I can’t look at him without laughing. I scorn him, and I pity him both. Is that possible?” His eyes brightened, uncanny, lifting her out of her morose. “Pity him, rather. I think the Dornish women found him. The cries coming out of that room...” The suggestion trailing with all manner of fates, but the dread and envy on his face told all. Men spoke warily and yearningly of one night with a Dornish woman. One Dornish woman. A group, all sisters, and a man was left wondering if he’d ever be able to service a woman ever again, let alone piss while standing, or ride a horse. “Good,” she says firmly. “They might even make a man if him, if there’s a man left after they’re done.” A snort under his breath, amusement in his voice. “If there was ever a man to begin with. They like women too. He should serve both roles well, for their tastes.” Silence holds them in the moments following their brief humor/levity, Sansa taking the wine flask, and Sandor reaching for a fresh flagon from his knap-sack. “Another?” She blurts, emptying the remnants of first. “I didn’t think I would go through the first so quickly. I wasn’t expecting company. You’re planning on staying, then—“watching without comment, a little taken aback really, as she frees the flagon from his hands with a giggle, unsteady, and opens the the cork, gulping down the silken drink—“Here, with me, tonight?” She doesnt want to leave, his presence—the bulk of his body, a solid assurance which lent her more calm in these last hours, than she’s had in...years. A settling in her soul that’s been like a restless butterfly flitting with no where to rest, fraught worse since Jon had taken the field against the Boltons, and successively tied the fate of their homeland to the throne Sansa had been trying to free them from. She turns to him slowly, disappointment perhaps, marring the comfort of their camaraderie/familiarity. That he had to take advantage of this blessing he’d begun to uncover with her, only to push a boundary she thought he’d respect, and leave her to reject him gently, b/c it always needed to be done gently. Men were such fragile creatures. For all the tenderness of his eyes upon her, she had thought he understood her reluctance, revulsion in fact, in the act of coupling. She might one day, find a place to let someone touch her thecway she knew people could who desired each other. They way she knew Jon and the Targaryen woman were in these past hours. The thought left her cringing and disturbed. They were both Targaryens. But he was still a Stark. Maybe it was jealousy, a little envy, toward her after all. Jon accused her of that, but said it the Jon always did. Comparing Sansa’s strength and courage and stubbornness, and her beauty, to Daenerys’s own. *She’s your match. Only you can reconcile that, Sansa.* That had stung more than she wanted to admit. It wasn’t jealousy for his affection, at least not in the way of desiring him as a lover. He was her brother, cousin, family. Sansa realized, the very thing Sandor had pointed out in her, that goodness and faith in others’ goodness, she sensed in Jon. He still had that child’s devotion that others would act as honorably as him, even after the wreckage of how he’d been betrayed by his own Watch. He was so like their father. No, his uncle. She wondered if Lyanna had shared that quality. Sandor, off balance, wine coursing in his veins and affecting his motions, rises, arranging his mantle out on the ground. She’s trying to find the right words, shape them coherently through a mind thickened with wine and drear, to tell him she hadn’t meant to lead him on. He grips for his sword, still in its scabbard, a thing of _____steel, as long as the span of his arms, Holt of ivory cast in silver etching, holding it aloft with a crooked grin. She lowers the flask, wiping at the wine dribbling down her chin. “What are you doing?” Her puzzlement breaking the hazeforca moment. He bows, catching himself before falling on his face, burping before he explains his actions. “A gentleman, Lady Stark. S’pposedly I’m a knight. Note the blade between us. My pledge I won’t touch you, nor dishonor you, as much as I wish you’d ask me to.” The relief washing over her, gratitude that brings infuriating tears she blinks back impatiently, makes her knees almost collapse freed of a strain she hadn’t realized till then. A small, choking breath, as she steadies her voice, “I’d thought you...you were going to ask me to sleep with you.” “I have. But not fu—no, with you it wouldn’t be that. Allow me my dignity. I dont need to invite my own rejection, in the way you don’t need to spare the feelings of an ass. The tenderness and sorrow in his eyes leaves her silent, the tears winning out, flowing unimpeded down her cheeks as she tries to keep her breathing calm, thinking she’s about to blubber in a humiliating display of anger and hysteria. “Oh little wolf, hush now. No need for this,” he says gently, wiping at the rivulets. “Too much wine, and too much death in these days of darkness. It makes us fools and philosophers.” “Aren’t they one and the same?” She forces out past a sob, sniffling. His laugh is soft, where he brings her head against his chest. He wears no armor, not even the leather jerkin, and the heat of him, the play of rippled muscle of his chest, where his heart beats, a living surge, and the embrace housing her in a fortress of power and grace. They are exactly as she had dreamt that one haunted night so many years ago. They kneel together, as he slowly, reluctantly frees her. He gave her his mantle, leaving nothing for himself on the cold stone floor. “One day, little wolfling, you’ll conquer this too. One day, you might even learn to want a man, or a woman, again. But trust comes first.” “How do you know that?” She demands, her brief episode/spell making her angry, such silly weakness an indulgence no one has time for. She’s glad he’s the only one who saw it. “How do you have a right to be so gentle, when all those years ago, you tried so hard to be such a brute?” The patience of his humor warms her, and rankles. She’s not so fragile, and he doesn’t need to be so careful. “Because most humans are shits. At least the ones I’ve known. But animals, the gods’ beasts are different. Broken animals, horses, dogs, the like. It’s their trust that needs to be regained, and that’s done through patience. And love,” he adds, voice stalling/stuttering out the word. Shivering b/c of the chill, the despondency in his voice, she gazes hard into the dark ceiling above. On her back, lying on his cloak, his long-sword between them, she feels cast off, alone all over again. “So, you see me like a beaten animal?” she throws thecwords at him, stony gaze above. “Something to be coddled and cozened, until I eat from your hand again, and eventually mount me without being bitten or kicked off?” A whisper of garments, she feels him shift, turning to prop himself on an elbow. She swallows her surprise in a little croak when The shadow of his face draws over hers, a mere finger span abort her mouth. The heat of his breath, sweat, and the wine filling her nostrils, brushing her skin, he’s so close, she reads the clouded storm there—his temptation and his own self-mockery. “Allow a man his fancies, Sansa. I won’t lie and say I’ve not thought of you like that either.” So like her dream, his lips moist and so close. Her pulse leaps, an exhale catching in a shallow gasp, a shaft of longing awakening something delicious deep inside, heat flooding her cheeks. She’s frozen half in terror by this first flavor of desire. Need. Half his face distorted, the other beautiful and bold, the harmony like the halves of his soul, shine from his burning gaze. He never makes a move to close the small gap between them, remaining captured above her like that forca precious breath more, before his groan of frustration and sorrow breaks the spell, and he turns back, collapsing to his side of the blade. “You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever known. And any man who tries to break that deserves to die.” Arya said that too. The wine maybe, or the trials of past years, fortifies what’s becoming more frequent, daring she’s more apt to command. And this heady pleasure lighting over her, tingling her mind and flesh. She wants more of this. “How would you think of me, Sandor? Tell me, what was the most stirring thing you envisioned? Did you think of me when you visited one of Baillesh’s whores? On top, or wrapped around you from beneath, moaning your name? It’s hard to read the kind of urges that fire a man like you.” The words are edged, taunting herself as much as cruelty prods her to toy with him, eyes ground into the darkness above, hands crossed over her belly like a corpse prepared for its byre. He draws a rough sigh, his gruff laughter without humor. “Singing. I dreamt of you singing. All those other ways men want to fuck a woman too, but mostly—“ “Singing.” She finishes for him, the word resounding flat into the quiet. Passion, her first awareness of desire lapses into befuddlement. She turns to seek his profile in the dark, her voice soaked in doubt. “All those years you wanted me *in every way a man wants to fuck a woman* and it’s singing?” Across the short distance between them, his gaze falls into hers, locked and full of longing, piercing her heart, and resurrecting a feeling she had buried in these years of pain. “You told me once, when my little bird had first been wounded, she didn’t know any more songs. I dreamt of her singing ever since. She was the sweetness of spring, and the joy of sunlight to a man chilled by rain.” Those stupid tears again, coming out of nowhere, salt upon her tongue, as she tries to moisten her lips for speech. She rolls onto her stomach, thrusting the scabbard down to their feet. Crawling onto her elbows, she leans above him, peering into a face no longer menacing or scowling, only patience and acceptance offered in a sea of doubt. He doesn’t believe she could return such affection. He doesn’t think he’s deserving of such tender grace. Her lips are upon his, tentative at first. Light likecan infant’s touch, and as his open to meet her questing mouth, growing bolder, claiming each other with kisses leechingvthem of breath, deep and leaving them reeling. Her hands clasp his cheeks, grain of his beard wiry, fingers sweeping the strands of his hair back from the thickened scars over his brow, her lips brushing there too, sacrament of sorrow and blessing. Both of them reaching for air, a disbelieving joy escapes her throat in a little laugh, her cheek pressed to his ear. His hands hover like lost swallows, — Euron’s fleet attacks out of the Dark. The dragons even the odds, and the battle is a much more effective modality than the gibberish splashed across the screen in S7, leaving Yara captured, and Theo a drowned kitten. Instead, the Dornish women hold their own this time, but still fall (Olenna Tyrell, who was left behind at a KingsLanding—exceeding Genius at governance that she was, and staying where she would be most useful to her queen, needless to say, met her same fate as she did in S7. See, I’m not reformatting this for happy endings. Just more cohesive, and sophisticated plot lines...). —Ultimately, Euron’s fleet is BBQ, with both Rhagel and Drogon flambeying the enemy GreyJoys, and no defense against the dragons, even with Qyburn’s largely useless ‘ballista/scorpion’ things. The battle is at night afterall, and morning dawns upon ship hulls blown cinders, and corpses ravaged by fire. —The harbor is open to Dany’s fleet and forces, but the Lannister defenses are ready—right, remember those convenient stocks of Witch Fire/Greek Fire. Now, in rewrite, more sensibly deployed as artillary against an invading fleet. Onion Knight remembers this, and with the loss of a few vessels they pull back out of range. Of course, Night King arrives at the walls of a KingsLanding at that time, and everyone’s worst nightmare ensues, with the decimation of the city by the Dead, in full tilt, requiring use of WitchFire against the Wights instead, and allowing a Now very eagerly accepting group of Team Lannister’s to hasten Dany’s and Jon’s forces ashore, as dragons clash and flash in the skies above—the human toll extradinaory with the loss of innocent life, amid the destruction Zombie Vicerys wrecks upon KingsLanding, while Dany and Jon battle a stand-off with Dragon Destructo Immortalis and his Icy Eyed Spiky Crowned Zombie Dragon Rider, which ultimately culminates at the already blasted out Red Keep Throne Room. Dragons are wounded, dragons out of the picture, the dead crawl over every brick, stone, toppled pillar, and yawning crack in the flagstones, held back only by flames of living fire, unable to reach Dany or Jon (who, as a Targaryan, proves as flame resistant as Dany...), protected in a ring of flame surrounding the Iron Throne. Here, resurrect the Dany who picks up a sword for the first time in her life, ready to die by her man’s side, whilst WhiteWalkers gather.  Jon, of course, faces off with said NightKing, sort of like DarthVader vs Luke Skywalker style, keeping Dany from the fray, butvat some point, down for the count, about to be impaled by Night King, when Dany gets her strike in, while not lethal, serves to distract the Night King, who recovers quickly enough, and sends her sprawling. The moment allows Jon the lethal thrust he needs, sword piercing the Night King in the heart (sorry, Arya—your Assassin’s Creed acrobatics were awesome, well-executed, but poorly utilized in the grand scheme of ‘bore’ that followed...).  *added as alternative b/c I adored what Arya did*: ALTERNATIVELY, ARYA REACHES THE RED KEEP, PERFORMS MYSTICAL ASSASSIN’s CREED ACROBATICS, AND SLAYS NIGHT KING EXACTLY AS SHE DOES IN SHOW, BUT WITH JON BATTLING NIGHT KING AS WELL, AND NIGHT KING STILL REMOVING DRAGON GLASS DAGGER FROM HIS OWN CHEST AND BURYING IT IN JON’S HEART...SO JON STILL DIES* / The Night King removes the Dragon Stone dagger from his chest, simultaneously burying it beneath Jon’s heart as they sink down together, both in death. The Night King dissolves into *sparkles* (lol—Ice grains...), blown away by the wind, while the WhiteWalkers explode as they did into ice shards, and the dead—wights and new recruits alike—fall into dust. Poor Viceryon😢 Arya stricken by dying Jon, and Dany crawls to Jon’s side amid the flames and ash, the scorched throne room, cradling him as she sees him turning, fully understanding the remorse in his eyes, his love, and the plea, unspoken, of what she needs to do. What she doesn’t want to do, yanking the dagger out of Jon’s/Aegon’s chest, watching his blood well up, as he gasps last words, last breath, and she cradles him, weeping as he dies, bleeding upon the Iron Throne. You know, like what she did with Jorah, but more sensibly in this alternate canon. Had they not cast Jon as a messianic figure for the last 7 seasons, and Dany as the Savior, I wouldn’t lean so much this way, BUT...as I said, it’s my view, and a more poetic one than what they contrived in that scene in the actual Ep6... Assuming some soldiers/warriors of Dany and Jon’s forces made it up to the Keep, deployed against the White Walkers till they all dissolved into elemental memory (Jorah lives in this mode; Jon dies...), they gather, staggering, around Dany and Jon, where he lays in her arms, all of them exhausted, broken and bloodied. But they live “heroes just for one day...”😜 —Meanwhile, there were those underground caverns/crypts where the rest of the Witch Fire stores had been stocked, and ready to light beneath King’s Landing. Team Lannister, by this point only consisting of a fleeing Jamie and Cersei, have retreated down to those stores, knowing fire will keep them from the fare of the dead, and absolutely willing to ‘light it up, baby’ beneath the city. At the crucial juncture where they’re about to be over-run by the Dead, Cersei about to drop the torch into the fuel, the dead fall to dust. A few seconds to breath, realizing what must have happened w/o knowing how, but relief makes Jamie embrace his sister, the (incestuous, admittedly) love of his life. She still holds the torch over the pool of liquid, phosphorescent WitchFire though, always quicker than Jamie, knowing exactly who has won this victory ultimately. Something along the lines of, “I refuse to let her own this throne...”, or some such line refusing to surrender to Dany (harkening, nay, recalling Cercei’s vehement tirade of, “I would burn this city to the ground before I would see our...”yadayadaYoda—“house fall”, or something like that). Well, that’s EXACTLY what she means to do, and Jamie experiences some awful moments working through his pretty skull, the last monarch he served who meant to do the same thing. He tries, earnestly, to persuade her it’s not necessary, etc etc. Cersei is not having it, and as she’s about to release the torch into Pyrotechnic mode, he does kill her...but, too late. *BIGBIGBIGBIGBIG BOOM*💥💥💥💥 Green smoke clouds erupt through the city streets, already decimated, but beginning to animate with a few survivors, including the inhabitants, but also soldiers of both forces... -Across the winding streets, up at Red Keep Hotel, Dany registers the sounds of explosions, with the remaining crew of her soldiers. We have 2 routes here, Choose Your Own Adventure/GoTs style: Dany flips at that point, of course familiar with her family heritage and the *Burn Them ALL* king who was her father. Not bent on tyranny, not thinking at all, except that she’s as exhausted and beyond endurance as any of the survivors of Team Dany/Team Jon, and grieving Jon’s death, the cost of tragedy and the price of power, she’s convinced it’s Cersei still hiding out in some hidden refuge of the city. So, the Dragon Queen mounts Drogon, and off she goes, decimating what’s left of King’s Landing—*pan out diorama to Yara’s fleet, where they witness the last chapter of destruction*—And know they’ve won. What they’ve won, who knows, as LittleFinger observes, but...if LittleFinger is still living. At some point, even Drogon tires, and Dany’s rage subsides, landing on the summit of the earlier bombed out heap of the Temple of the 7, or whatever Cersei had mushroom clouded back in S6. Reality hits as she observes the destruction left in her wake, and the battle which has just ensued, draining her momentary manic Hell-bender, and restoring her to herself. And the awareness of the power and pathos with which she’s endowed leaves fills her with dread for the first time, and doubt on her journey to reclaim a throne she had always believed was hers by right. Horrified at her own act, she flies off away from King’s Landing, Rhagel, gathering Jon’s body in his claws (since that’s what dragons do, I guess, with their dead riders??), follows, leaving only an echo of mournful dragon cries... -Cue: FINAL episode in the retelling. Okay, maybe penultimate? Dany, somewhere in FarFarAway, in some deserted landscape, a mountain vale maybe, where men can’t reach, stands pale, mourning, silent tears falling down her cheeks as she lights the funeral bier beneath Jon’s body. She holds the dagger of the Night King in her hands, unsure if she should hurl it away, but decides ultimately to keep it, fastening it to her belt. Her dragons crowd around her, communal puppy-dragon love for their mama. She spends the night watching his bier burn, only smoldering bones left by dawn. And knows, with the morning, she has a city, and land calling her back. —Dany returns, with her Dragons—arriving to the heights of the RedKeep, the relief across the faces of her men reassuring in their trust, even as they eye her with a new fear and wariness. How fragile might be her sanity, after all? Who knows how Tyrion gets there, but he’s the master of survival, and there he is—there to greet her as she climbs off Drogon. Some such line does she manage, still lost to her own grief and emptiness, still reeling from the horror of her potential for destruction. There, standing regal despite her haggard appearance as any of her men, amid the wind-swept ashes of The Red Keeps innards, she says something about, “I came once, claiming I would not be Queen of the Ashes. Now, there are only ashes left to rule. I finished what the Night King began. Now it is done. And still, I will not be Queen of the Ashes.” Yadayada, she’s unworthy to rule, afraid of her excesses of anger that can border on insanity, afraid of the power that feeds her ambitions, and tempts destruction over mercy. The men about her are left in confusion, some speechless, some protesting, and some in agreement. When silence finally falls, Dany mentions Jon’s heritage, which, till then hadn’t been revealed (as it so stupidly was in yet another wasted plot device)—the truth that he was “the true heir to the Iron Throne. It’s not mine,” she speaks the words, hearing them to her own amazement, and knowing they are completely true. “It’s not mine. It was never mine, and now, I don’t want it.” It’s Jorah who provides his gentle wisdom amid the astonishment of the other men, who reminds her “the wheel is shattered. And the world is broken, Khaleesi.” It’s that title that reminds her of her earliest days, theclong journey played out to this moment. Loss, love, sacrifice, and dreams. “We need a leader, this land needs a leader. Your people, now of Westeros, need a leader. And it’s now, more than any other moment in your life, when you can decide what kind of ruler you would become. You are more than the blood running your veins. I’ve always believed, or I would not have suffered for you to this hour.” Moment of pondering, the struggle of doubt and a restoring confidence alive in Dany’s eyes, when she looks to the throne, charred but standing despite all the destruction around them. Jon’s blood, dried now, soaked into the cracks between the splinters comprising the seat. NOW, we can have Drogon fry the thing to a melted mass of ore and bone, at her order. And NOW, we can have her, in the best Danearys tone of command as only she can utter, “Now, we shall begin,” her eyes compelling each of the men to beat weapon to stone, announcing her victory, their allegience, as dawn breaks across the harbor to the fleet in the distance. —Cue: some kind of season passage scene, winter, snows falling, the members of various houses returning to their holdings, most time spent on the Starks, taking in the ravaging left by the Army of the Dead. Burying those who died, followed by Gradual returning of people too, into villages, repopulating deserted farms, ships from East to West, as Dany still holds Esteros too, provisionally, gradually filling dockside storehouses, commerce once more bringing life and goods along with repairs mending the capital, and the lands spanning all directions. And Dany, concluding a council, replete with Sansa as the representative of the North, along with the nobles of the other houses, and kingdoms besides, serving the privy council—or, maybe it’s Bran serving on Dany’s council, he’d be a better advisor anyway,  leaving Sansa to actually rule the North, as she deserves (the ladies having found some balance betwen each other, of respect and mutual admiration; though, they’ll never be friends. Sansa still blames Dany for Jon’s death, knowing the blame is without substance...the Hound serves her, devoted to his Little Bird for the rest of his live-long day’s...knowing she’s no longer a little bird, but a grown woman, sharp and fierce as hawk, and fair in her ruling besides...). The Ladies rule the Iron Islands, as well as Dorn (one of the Sandsnakes survives??); thus, the symbolism of the Ladies healing the land, whilst there are still many of the other houses, in other territories retaining the traditional male authorities of the noble classes. But the world is changing, and there too many gone to be fussy on the appropriateness of a woman or man succeeding to a place of authority, in business, in government, or in profession—the Maesters accepting woman amongst their ranks for the first time... And like the great void of population that followed the Plague of the 1300s, an event that had a far greater prescience in heralding the early modern world, and social/economic transitions that reverberated across Europe and Asia in the following centuries of the Renaissance, we see Westeros establishing fertile seeds of cultural change...just hints, nothing that can be explored too fully b/c...last episode. But it’s poignant, and hopeful, and elegiac all at once. Who knows, maybe a couple of years are suggested inthose scenes, up to Dany rising from the council table, concluding the meeting with her advisors of office. Exiting, a servant finds her out in a courtyard, and hands a child off to her, a blonde haired little boy, round about 2 or 3, with dark, somber eyes, bringing a smile, a soft endearment to Dany’s lips, as she kisses her son.  Call him Aegon; call him Jon. Call him whatever you want...I know, it’s a bow to sentimentality, but honestly, it fits better than pyscho-bitch Dany-turn tyrant Dany-turn *look-another woman dies by Jon Snow’s circumstantial inaction*...(bye, Egrit, it was nice knowin’ ya...). They walk up to the Red Keep; Doh, who am I kidding, they fly over, mounted on Drogon. The palace, and that chamber were never restored, but left as a monument to the Old World, and commemoration of great sacrifice for those who died in the battle for Westeros. The melted core of the Iron Throne stands as witness to future, and memorial to the past. Dany pauses with her son, winter still locked about the land, but signs of spring peeking through, a dazzle of ice and falling snow and sun. Green things unfurling hesitantly from cracks in the pavement of stairs and fallen masonry. And upon the melted heap of that once powerful symbol, a blue frost rose buds from the charred rock...Dany’s hand hovering over it, tending it, and Jenny’s Song crooning in the background with the closing scene... There, I feel better now. THIS is how, or something how, justice might have been served to blot our the memory of sophomoric scripting and elementary storytelling, for a series that held our hearts and minds for 8 seasons going. It’s flawed, I know, and undoubtedly *Archive of Our Own* will be thriving with amateur authors who will prove themselves far more de opted to fleshing our pacing, plots, and subplots for far more satisfying conclusions than what last night treated us to... My GeekGrrl/FsnGrrl is done wrung our now, and must return to her regularly scheduled programming of Late 2nd Century Sarmatisns, Artorius Castus, as well as Post-Roman Britain and a Uthyr and Guinevra who become something of social reformers building the way for the AngloSaxon kingdoms ultimately shaping the fragments of Celtic Britain into the powerful kingdoms of Northumbria (the Star of the North as they called it in its heyday through the 7th into the 8th Century), and later Mercia and Wessex...