#ridged chips are so much better than lays

[mephorash]

dinner tonight is milk tea boba, an apple salad, tomato soup, and a tuna salad melt with gouda cheese. I vastly prefer to eat tuna salad/x and cheese sandwiches while shoving ridged chips in my mouth at the same time

[hotluncheddie]

t4t chubby autistic steddie GO

i have been thinking about this (nsfw from twitter!!) art lately so i am here with u <3

even tho i get nervous to write trans characters, idk why, i just don't wanna mess it up i think

but im doing my best!! bc autistic and gender exploration are very lovely wonderful cozy subjects so i'm gonna focus on that

this is such a string of ideas but - 4 u <3 :3c

Stevie leaves with Eddie and Robin, taking their trust fund and leaving their parents to it - too the rest of their lives - without her. Like the Harringtons always hoped, really.

Stevie doesn't need them, the money is useful but they offer nothing more to her.

She's able to buy an apartment. In Chicago. With her loves. They learn how to live. How to live together. How to be at peace.

There's big bright widows in the main space, with light and air and the sunset. The two bedrooms are cozy and warm and it's a place for them all to grow.

'There's chips here.' Eddie says. They have a matching day off and she's trying to practice what it is to do nothing, to truly rest. Eddie helps, by being there, keeping her still with his hands and his love.

But Stevie tenses up, she was snacking, has been snacking, trying to learn her hunger signals better - what they feel like to her. It was always a rule not to east in her room, not to eat between meals. But she was hungry, she had a snack.

'I'm not judging, I'm saying so we remember to take it out next time one of us goes to the kitchen.' Eddie says, coming back from changing the tape, kissing her. Kissing her and kissing her.

Stevie relaxes.

'You've gained a little weight.' Robin says, laying on Stevies thighs on the couch, crocheting while Stevie watches sports and rubs her knuckles agains her teeth, twirling a strand of Robins hair in her fingers.

She looks down at her best friend. Robin looks back at her.

Robin smiles.

'It's good. You look more like you than you ever have before.'

Stevie smiles back. Tries not to cry.

Stevie letting herself change, relax. Unlearn those eating habits that helped her feel in control. Instead allowing herself to enjoy, and eat the things she wants to, the things she likes.

Eats pasta every night for a month and doesn’t feel bad about it. Doesn’t force herself to eat kale because she hates it, spinach is good enough. She is good enough.

Eddie gets little chubbier, in this new life. After recovering from nearly dying. Explains to Stevie in his long lilting way that he likes it, feels more protected, like his skin isn’t so fragile now.

He’s never liked his body but now he truly knows how short life is, and, maybe he can learn to like this new one. In this new place, in the love that surrounds him.

Plus, the bats destroyed his chest. So without that in the way, no longer lurking and potentially ruining his day. He realises he can shed that background fixation he always seemed to have with thinness. The idea that it would make him look more masculine or more androgynous. Curves were for girls and Eddie was not. That.

But now, now, who fucking cares. He’s alive. He needs to eat.

Steve feels a finger trailing over her hip, dipping into the band of her underwear, skimming over her crack and the the ridges of stretch marks that lead up to her waist.

'So so pretty' Eddie whispers, and it's filled with so much awe, so much grace, so much reverence and love.

Stevie shivers, feeling endless and grounded and like her body is here and hers and everything she ever dreamed of because it exists now.

She puts her hand under her loose shirt, cupping her belly. Skin still sleep warm and the energy of her palm seems to cover her whole body in warmth, in light and softness. Tinging and bright. Still being traced lightly by the love of her life. But being loves by her own hands, now, too.

She exists. And finally, everything is beautiful.

[alienducky]

Omg I just saw your crochet Wyvern and it’s an amazing work of art omg!!!

Do you have any progress updates? 😁

Heh, thank you! I'm sure wyvern would be blushing if I had any pink felt to stick to his cheeks ^_^#

I haven't worked on him in AGES because I was focusing on getting Loki done, since that was a request rather than a me thing, but I have started chipping away at him in the last few days, and I've taken some photos just now I can share!

So this is where I'm up to at the moment. On the first wing I've done all the struts, and now just have both sides of the "arm" to do. I eventually worked out that if I tack the fabric down to one side, it makes things so, so much easier when I then have to match up the stitches to sew the crochet together around it ^^;;; So things are going a tad quicker than the first few struts did!

And speaking of the first few struts, here they are doing the weird twisting thing I'm pretty sure I talked about before? I am very confused why it's doing this, because when I laid the crochet out by itself it didn't twist at all? >__<

And then here's a few pictures of him, showing off his different bits I'm going to fix the nose on the next one, so it doesn't dip in and flare out again

The head and back ridges refuse to lay flat, but again, I'm going to try something different on the next one, similar to what I learned to do when making Loki's webbed toes. I'm also going to update the neck sections so it matches the naked wyvern we got to see in Three Hopes rather than what I guessed (which was kinda close. Kinda)

Also going to tweak these tail ridges, because as much as I love them, the center points don't really stay pointy, and keep trying to curl over themselves. They're cool as heck for a first attempt, but yeah. Could be better

[passerine-writes]

Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader

Welcome to my first Teen Wolf post! When more posts come, I’ll be sure to make a Masterlist for it!

Title: Like Chocolate Chips Genre: Fluff with very light angst if you squint hard enough Warnings: Mentions of insecurities Word count: 1.2k+

I was laying in Stiles’ room, simply cuddling with him while he was scrolling away on his computer. He was laying on his back, propped up a smidge against a few pillows, and I was on my side with my head resting on his bicep. We had known each other since early Elementary school, him, Scott and I always connected at the hip. I never told him about my feelings for him, he was always so infatuated with Lydia, I never saw the point. Sophomore year however, I decided to risk it all. Thankfully it worked in my favor and we’ve been dating for ten months and counting. 

I glanced up and wrapped my arm around his waist when I noticed his body turn ridged. After knowing him for so long, I knew that pressure helped when it came to anything anxiety and sensory related. His face held a prominent grimace on it, eyebrows drawn close together with a far off look in his eye.

“Stiles? Stiles? Baby?” Of course me calling him a pet name gathered his attention. “What’s wrong?”

“Hmm? What? Oh, nothing.” Stiles had always been a bad liar. He knew right away when I sent him a deadpanned look. “Really, it’s nothing. People just need to learn how to be more creative, that’s all.” He let out a pained laugh, I cocked an eyebrow and looked at his computer screen. He had a post of his on Instagram from our ten month anniversary, it was a picture I loved. We were standing and smiling in the preserve, the city line behind us. Bright smiles were on both of our faces, his arms around my waist with his forehead pressed against my temple.

“What do you mean?” He sighed and pointed at the most recent comment.

‘She could do so much better than you mole face.’

Mole face?

I looked back up at him and stared into his chocolate brown eyes

“Babe, it’s fine, really.” I moved his computer behind me. “He- Hey! Hey! Hey! What’re you doing?” I pushed myself up and swung a leg over his waist, effectively straddling his waist. His eyes went wide, hands immediately flying to my bare, short-clad thighs, sitting up more against his head board. “Or just, y’know, keep doing whatever you’re doing.” I rolled my eyes and cupped his face.

“Tell your brain to shut up.” He was immediately taken aback, thinking I was talking about something else.

“I- Wha- How am I supposed to do that!” I softly laughed at him and gave him a quick kiss, effectively shutting him up.

“Mieczysław.” His eyes darted up to mine, whenever I say his name and add the accent to it, it almost tames him in a way. “I’m not telling that part of you to shut up, I’m saying tell your mind to stop focusing on one stupid comment. There’s no need for you to feel insecure about them. I absolutely love every single one of them. So, tell your brain to shut up for a second.” He nervously licked his lips and sighed, beginning to rub little circles into the plush of my thighs. “What’s my little mischief thinking about? If it won’t stop, talk it out.” He kindly smiled at the nickname for him. Whenever either of us were feeling extra soft, I would pull it out and use it, especially since his mother used to call him that.

“I- Just, what if you realize they aren’t what you think? And that you don’t actually love them?” My face dropped at his confession. “Look- Really it’s nothing, re-” I slid my hands under the hem of his shirt.

“Take your shirt off.” He took a second to process before rushing to do so. My hands immediately went to his chest, resting there on his pecs. 

His adams apple bobbed up and down at my movements. I leaned down, his eyes shutting for a kiss but froze when I placed a kiss on the mole near the corner of his mouth. I brought my hand up to cup his face, angling it to the side so I could plant tiny kisses across the rest. Once I got to his neck, his breath hitched and his grip on my thighs got tighter.

“Babe, what’re you doing?” I placed a kiss on the few behind his ear.

“Kissing all the things you’re being insecure about right now.” I whispered into his ear. 

I continued to trail the kisses down his back, saving the ones on his back for when we’re spooning later. His head tilted back and he watched me through hooded eyes. A bright pink covering his ears and cheeks in response to my administrations.

Once done, I sat back up and cupped his hands in my face.

“Stiles, I love you and everything about you. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember and nothing is going to change that.” He bit his lip in thought so I placed a gentle kiss on his lips to break his hold. “When we were kids, I didn’t know what moles or freckles or beauty marks were. So when I met you, my mom asked me about my day and if I made any friends. And I told her I did so she asked me what they looked like. I looked at her with the biggest smile on my face when describing what you looked like but then stopped. She asked me what was wrong and I said he has these tiny like, chocolate chips on his face and they’re really pretty. So for a whole year-”

“You told me that you wanted my chocolate chips.” His voice was gravely at the old memory and his eyes started to water. “I always thought you meant candy, so every day you would say that I would big you a little ziploc bag of chocolate chips for snack time.” He sniffled as, what I hope was, happy tears filled his eyes. “God, I love you.”

“I love you too, my little mischief, and your little chocolate chips.”

[collisiondiscourse]

battle scars || a deku & class 1-A drabble

(A quick drabble talking about members of class 1-A, the scars they share, and the love that heals them. TW for descriptions of violence and both external and internal injuries.)

There isn't a single hero that Deku knows of who doesn't have scars.

They aren't stigmatized, no not at all. No one who's ever seen a hero in action before thinks that scars are ugly. In hero society, scars are celebrated. Admired, adored, worshipped--whatever connotates the wearer to something positive. In a world where suffering and self-sacrifice are glorified, scars are a mark of beauty.

Even then though, Izuku Midoriya can't help but think that his scars are better off hidden.

He knows, god does he know, that everyone has their own wounds and injuries. Little divots here, the occasional prosthetic there--everyone he knows is marked in some way that reminds the world that they are still human where it matters. They aren't gods or faces off a product--just average traumatized people who unfortunately love humanity more than they love themselves.

Class 1-A being no exception.

Mina, for example, has burns. Big burns, small burns, burns of all shapes and sizes that litter her body like the pattern of the hero costume she wears. A few too many evil scientists with interests in chemistry like to think that their knowledge gives them the upper hand, but the Alien Queen always proves them wrong.

One of her horns is chipped, and when she gets drunk she admits that her sense of sight might be going. Sometimes, the scars sting, but the sweet ache of her body as she nails another dance routine reminds her that there's more to the world than how people look. When she begins to forget that, Kirishima claps loudly as she lands another pirouette.

Kaminari is dotted from head to toe in Lichtenberg scars. It's something that surprises no one, and something the blond feels no shame in showing off at any given moment. The lightning patterned marks are most prevalent along his forearms and palms, every hug from him feeling rough but safe nonetheless.

Occasionally, due to one too many brain fries, he'll have days where his mind doesn't seem like it's all there and memories fade like footprints in the sand. On those days, Denki lays down and Jirou runs her hands through electric blond hair while humming a soft and sweet tune.

Kirishima's scars run like cracks. They splinter and have ridges that look very much like his own quirk. Most of them are very faint and shallow, getting more focused and deep around his chest and forearms as he held firm against countless unrelenting attacks.

After one too many nosebleeds, the red-head finds out that he's way more prone to internal wounds from the way his organs deal with shock absorption less adaptively than his skin and bones do. Eijirou's tense muscles eventually learn to relax under the gentle caring massages from an exasperated Mina.

Iida, on the other hand, has a prosthetic. An unfortunate and horrible incident left him missing half a leg after pissing off a Stain-inspired villain who was a little too much like her idol. He's much less scarred (a benefit of his full-bodied armor), but Deku still sometimes sees the way he struggles to breathe.

Internal scars from internal wounds similar to Kirishima's make his body sometimes forget that he's stopped running. Tenya wears these scars with responsibility and blushes whenever he greets an enthusiastic Hatsume Mei for his monthly prosthetic maintenance check.

Uraraka has scars all over her fingers. Nicks and slices from where people tried to render her quirk useless by taking off a finger. She has a star-shaped mark on the right side of her forehead from where a building caved in and shattered her helmet.

Neat little slashes run up and down her ankles and soles of her feet from lucky shots people had before she floated away. Ochako wears these scars with ferocity and pride, adorning them in pink band-aids that Toga sometimes scratches at when the brunette comes to visit her in jail.

Todoroki is... a little different. The scar over his right eye is a lot more faded, yet still there. It grew up with him, healed and faded at the edges like the wounds in his heart, but not forgotten because of how it made him who he is. He has burns of all types adorned around his body--caused either by his own quirk or others.

He also often gets sick when he overexerts himself like the hopeless workaholic Big Three member he is. Yaoyorozu and Inasa visit him on those sick days, bringing light and chicken soup into his big empty home.

Bakugou's a lot similar to Deku. Their families and friends have noticed that if you put a diagram of their bodies side by side with markings of their injuries, it wouldn't exactly be a mirror image, but seemingly two parts of a puzzle clicking together. The blond had all sorts of scars around his body, a hazard that came with the title of Japan's Symbol of Victory.

There were deep lashes on his back, marks of muzzles and handcuffs from attempt after attempt of kidnappings and ransom hostages. On his forearms were twin bracelet scars, from an especially ruthless villain that attempted to cut his hands off in an effort to eliminate his quirk. Over his torso were two faint pink marks shaped like explosions, both from the first time he sacrificed himself for Deku.

Bakugou had similar aches on his shoulders and neck from overuse and recoil whenever he'd pushed himself too quick and too soon. Kacchan would scoff at the notion of hiding his scars and treat the pain with a quick home-cooked meal, fingers twitching when Deku would plop himself on the counter and ask about his latest shift.

But Deku?

Deku hid well. He hid because it was his habit to deceive and alter his appearance--covering things up with a simple black arm band because in the grand scheme of things there were some secrets best left unseen. Deku wore long sleeves and concealer over his skin like it was a suit of armor, hiding the rawest parts of him because even as he grew and climbed his way to the top, a part of him always remembered that the burden he carries is too heavy to let be seen.

So he hides.

He hides the way burns litter his skin from trying to contain the inferno that is OfA and walking through fire to bring civillians home. He hides the Lichtenberg scars and the way green lightning sometimes crackles hard enough to make him flinch as he fights his way through unbeatable hoards of enemis. He hides the prosthetics, the way his arms gave out on him quite a while ago, forcing them to be replaced and improved. He hides the way people have tried to tear him apart and steal his burden for themselves.

One for All was his greatest gift and most painful curse.

Some nights he trembles and shakes, muscles spasming in effort to just simply keep going. Shivers run up and down his spine because with every injury his blood circulation worsens and worsens until cold and pain is all that he feels. Izuku will sometimes walk around, scars hurting and throbbing hot white under his skin, and look for medication that dulls the ache and makes him go a little less crazy.

Hands mindlessly running over bumps and edges, scars from villains and friends and debris and growth spurts. He would stand in front of a mirror like a house of cards and pull himself apart, reflection making him detest himself from how gnarled and ugly and imperfect he was.

"--No, my boy. Not imperfect." The tall and gaunt figure of his old mentor would tut. Thin and skeletal fingers would grasp the bottom of a white shirt and lift it up, gently revealing a scar so deep it almost looks like a crater. "Not imperfect at all. For people like us, your scars make you far more than just a hero."

Deku, of course, would hum in resignation. He looks at All Might--no, Toshinori Yagi with a skeptical look and the retired hero would smile.

"You are... a miracle."

And just like that, Deku would be brought back to being 14 years old, quirkless and desperate. He's on his knees, looking at the Symbol of Peace in his true form--thin and pale but still oh so powerful. A voice tells him that there is a destiny he has far greater than he'll ever realize, an adventure that awaits him through the old skinny man with unruly blond hair.

Izuku didn't see weakness that day, no.

He saw hope.

So now, even as Pro-Hero Deku hides away the parts of himself that are broken and raw from the world he protects, he finds his cure all the same. In the arms of those who are warm and familiar, Deku sheds his armor, his foundation, his long sleeves--

and he is simply Izuku.

He is Izuku who gets spa days and yoga sessions with Ashido, Denki, and Eijirou that stops his muscles from spasming on days where it gets unbearable. He is Izuku who gets tender massages and hearty midnight snack runs with Ochako and Tenya when nightmares and visions just won't let him sleep. He is Izuku who gets soup and warm borrowed hoodies from Shouto and Kacchan when stress makes him keel over and shudder at the thought of working. He is Izuku who gets big warm hugs and a fierce movie marathon with his loving mother and mentor who is his father in all but name.

He is Izuku, riddled with scars that still heal.

[phantomwarrior12]

Bedtime

This bed is far too large and far too cold to sleep in alone.

The Young Wolf rolls onto her back with a soft huff. Tonight is the first time she's been home in weeks and she's trying - more so failing - to sleep without him there beside her.

It's his bed, after all. The most comfortable thing she usually gets to sleep on - but the mattress isn't what makes it comfortable. No, it's only warm and soft when he's in it. Without him, she tosses and turns and can't get warm. Granted, she spends most nights sleeping in the cockpit of her ship, or on the cold, damp ground, but when she's home, she needs him.

And where is he?

Going over Crucible matches at nearly three a.m. in the morning. She'll never get any sleep at this rate and by the Traveler, she needs it. So, she resigns herself. She heaves a deep sigh, throwing the blankets off and swings her feet onto the floor. She's so tired. She doesn't want to get up, but Lord Shaxx does not answer his commlink this late.

She tugs on her boots, halfheartedly tying them before trudging toward the door. The journey to the courtyard is long and she dreads every flight of stairs. Realistically, she could have her Ghost just transmat her there, but - perhaps using this trek through the Tower will be enough to persuade him to abandon the matches and standings and just come to bed.

His head doesn't even lift as she approaches. She's certain he hears her, for he knows her stride well enough to identify her in a moment's notice. And, of course, Arcite remains the ever vigilant sentinel when the Titan gets enthralled with replays. He does sit up a little straighter when her hands trail down along the fur around his neck, locking together over his chest as she leans her head against his, closing her eyes.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping, my little Hunter?" He asks softly. Surely he's aware of the hour given how quietly he's speaking - so why is he here and not in bed?

"Can't." She mumbles out as one of his massive hands gently covers both of hers easily over his chest.

"Why not?"

She grumbles under her breath as she straightens and moves around to his side, drawing his gaze upward just before she slings a leg over his thighs and slides onto his lap. His arms find their way around her frame, hugging her tightly as her head lays against his chest.

"You need me there, don't you?" He chuckles softly, rubbing soothing circles along her spine.

She can only nod as she fixates on every little detail. The way he's holding her. The tenderness of his touch. The distinct Shaxx warmth that chases away the chill in her bones.

To hell with the bed, she could fall asleep right here.

"I'll be along soon, I promise--"

She shakes her head, burying her face in his neck, "Now." It's muffled but she knows he heard her.

"Guardian--" he tries to protest but she pulls back, gazing up at him with the most pathetic look she can muster.

"Please?"

She can see the war within him. The reluctance to abandon his work,  but her before him? It's an impossible decision, and yet, she knows what he'll pick every time - if for no other reason than to spend one of the fleeting evenings she's actually in the Tower at her side.

At last, he heaves a sigh. "Alright. You win."

She grins, lurching forward to throw her arms around his neck and hug him but he catches her with two hands planted firmly on her waist.

"Let me finish this one thing and then we'll go to bed. Alright?"

She nods and he relents, allowing her to wrap her arms around his neck. One of his hands shifts to her lower back to hug her back as the other occupies itself with the console before him. She wants his full attention, but something tells her she won't be able to press her luck any further tonight - unless...

She shifts her head slightly, gingerly undoing the clasp that secures the wrap around his neck. If he notices, he doesn't react, just continues to skim the screen as fingers deftly work the material away from his throat.

That he does notice.

"Behave." He chides and it strikes a nerve.

She narrows her eyes at him, slouching against his chest with a soft huff. She trails a finger along a deep ridged slash along the right side of his chest plate, her head propped against the fur scarf - if she could call it that. He finds it amusing, she has no idea what to actually call the damned thing. It attaches to a necklace, so by all rights, it's a necklace and yet? It keeps his neck warm, so more so a scarf? A scarf necklace? Neck-scarf-lace?

Traveler, she needs to go to sleep.

How much longer is this going to take? Her hip is starting to ache from sitting like this - sometimes wide Titan hips aren't all they're cracked up to be. But when she shifts, when she tries to climb off his lap, he tugs her back and her brows draw together in confusion as she looks up at him.

His gaze never leaves the screen and that annoys her more than anything else.

"I thought you were going to wait for me." There's a teasing lilt in his voice, rubbing her back gently.

"Cockpit is starting to sound like a better option," she retorts and that captures his attention.

She doesn't often get snarky, least of all with him. But she is tired and desperately wants to sleep. So, beneath the Titan's gaze, she tilts her head, summoning as much defiance and indignance as she can muster at this hour before she answers with a curt, "What?"

He stares at her for a long, weighted moment and she shifts again, the dull ache becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

And then he laughs. A deep, truly entertained laugh that chips away at her cranky resolve. It's her favorite sound and the ache in her hip ebbs from her mind as she stares up at him with a sort of adoring, dazed smile.

"Time for bed, my little Hunter. Seems you've reached you're breaking point for tonight." He chuckles, carefully sliding his chair back, setting her on the ground for the briefest of moments before scooping her back up in his arms once he's upright.

She wants to make some snide remark about it being about time, but she is where she wants to be - in his arms, headed to bed.

She doesn't quite remember the walk back, her eyes already closed and her head resting on his chest. At some point, he lays her on the bed, gently disentangling her fingers from around his necklace before moving off to presumably change for bed. Just before she opens her eyes to see where he is in the darkened room, he slides in beside her, tugging her into his arms and a small smile plays at the corner of her mouth.

"Goodnight, my little Hunter," he murmurs, the words rumbling through his chest and she can finally drift off.

Goodnight, my Titan.

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

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[remmushound]

@brightlotusmoon Part 2 of the Bay/Rise crossover!!

The memory just kept replaying in Donatello’s mind. He tried dismissing it, but it would return and dominate his mind like a storm over the city. Running. Running, and April was in the lead— Splinter was pulling her along. Michelangelo in his shell. He did that when he got scared, it couldn’t help it. It was biological. Leonardo was there with him…

Donatello’s legs ached. His back ached, and his arms, and his stomach. Everything burned from the strain. He kept going.

Everyone was running. Everyone was ahead of him— he couldn’t keep up. He was falling behind and he was—falling! Tripping. Splinter looked back and cried out to his son, and then Leonardo looked back. But Leonardo couldn’t leave Michelangelo…

Donatello noticed the camera in his exhausted stupor. He disabled it just as quickly. His spider arms couldn’t take much more of this. He needed a break. He felt warm dripping down his arms. He kept going.

There was a weight on his back. A comforting weight that covered him like a mutant shield, hugging him from behind and securing a wall between him and the Shredder. Raphael…

Donatello felt one of his metal arms give way. It echoed painfully and the additional weight made him stop. He could feel those eyes staring at him...

Donatello told him to get off, but Raphael held those seconds steadfast. Raphael held him.

Now he held Raphael. Donatello forced himself to backtrack in his desperation for rest.

The shredder was upon them. Claws of titanium slicing through hard keratin like it was butter. The scream. The blood. The portal…

A sword made him stop a moment. A katana, pointed at him. A clear threat. He tried to call out, but found the words stopped at his throat. He tried to step out into the light…

The rift was unstable. Something was pulling them away from their desired destination. Donatello clinging to Raphael. Leonardo clinging to Michelangelo. Splinter clinging to April. Everyone trying to reach out for the others…

Instead, the light came to him in a blinding flash that made him unsteady on his feet.

Then falling. Freefalling through the sky. The hovers on his battle shell the only thing keeping him and Raphael from hitting the ground too hard.

Donatello had to say something, and he tried to make it something distinguished and peaceful. A plea for salvation. All his mind could think to say was,

“Help…”

*****

At first nobody moved. The shock was too great and the confusion strong between them. When someone did move it wasn’t at Leo’s command. Donnie moved forward on his own, grabbing one of the spiked monster’s massive arms and trying to yank him up.

“You gonna help me or what?” Donnie snapped, looking back at his brothers for help.

“Donnie, we don’t know what they are!” Leo finally broke the shock to argue.

“I know I’m not willing to let this one bleed out, so stop standing there trying to catch flies and help me!”

“Raph.” Leo shook his head and motioned for Raph to help, “Help Donnie! Mikey with me.”

Raph hurried forward and grabbed the massive mutants other side, heaving him up together and supporting the hundreds of pounds of muscle between them.

“Shit!” Donnie eyed the damage to the turtle’s carapace, “Looks like he went ten rounds with a semi!”

“He looks kinda like Raph!” Mikey said, voicing the thoughts that filled his brothers minds.

Leo, Raph, and Donnie all exchanged looks. Leo heaved the smaller turtle onto his back, still muscular and a decent weight despite the smaller size, and Mikey was there to help him.

“Let’s get these guys home and have Don patch em up.” He held up a hand when Donnie tried to speak, “We’ll talk later. Let’s go.”

*****

No one said a word on the way back. Mikey tried a few times but when no one, not even Raph, reacted to his attempts at a joke, he eventually went quiet. They hustled at Donnie’s impatient prompting, and the whole way the box turtle was muttering equations and percentages under his breath that none of his brothers could quite make out. When they came through the tunnels, Splinter was there to greet them. His watery eyes went wide and ears back when he smelled the metal of blood clinging to his sons.

“Are you okay? What happened?”

“It’s not our blood, sensei.” Leo answered.

Splinter’s eyes searched up and found the sight of the wounded young mutants supported by his sons.

“Oh my…”

“They’re really hurt, dad.” Leo shook his head.

“Here, here— lay them on their stomachs. Be careful!” Donnie guided his brothers to lay the wounded on a table after swiping everything off of it.

“I’m sorry dad, I—“ Leo tried to say.

“Don’t apologize, go!” Splinter urged, and Leo obeyed.

“They gonna be okay, Don?” Leo said as he laid the soft-skinned mutant on the table alongside the giant.

Donnie pulled his goggles down to get a better read on their vitals. “Leo, I need you to go get my mutant aid kit from my lab— the green one with a turtle on it, not the cross.”

“Okay, Don.”

“What can we do?” Raph offered.

“You can give me space.” Donnie growled, “Nothing you can do here, just try to stay quiet so I can focus…”

Donnie pulled himself onto the table, turning his attention to the struggling snapper— for that’s what he recognized the species as almost as once. He lifted the massive head in both hands, taking a quick look at the nostrils in search for blood. Then he came to the mouth and heistated.

“Actually, Raph.” Donnie called back to Raph before the turtle could get far, “Could you give me a hand here? Just— just open his mouth so I can make sure he’s not aspirating?”

“Sure.” Raph hurried over and pried the massive jaws open without a care as to losing a finger or two should the mutant wake.

“Mm. No blood.” Donnie sighed, “Help me take his gear off.”

Raph obliged Donnie’s command and helped him to remove the armor, tossing in a pile to the side. Leo hurried back with the kit Donnie needed and Donnie was quick to take it. Donnie took a flashlight from his belt and shined it into the massive blue eyes of the wounded beast, giving a grin of confidence as the eyes contracted and reacted to the light.

Donnie pulled on his rubber gloves before he started to examine the obvious source of damage.

“What could’ve caused this?” Leo asked, peeking over the bloody carapace.

Donnie hummed and hovered a finger across the cracks. “The cracks don’t follow the suture borders like any normal crack would. This wasn’t an accident, this was very deliberate. Something… some type of three-bladed weapon. Whatever it was, it got him good.”

Donnie opened the turtle care kit and pulled out a drill.

“Can it be fixed?” Leo asked.

Donnie was hesitant to give any answer other than, “We’ll see.”

*****

While he worked, Donnie made sure to keep a close eye on both the snapper and the smaller companion. A softshell, he suspected due to the face shape. His vitals were stable enough and if they did start to drop than Donnie would know. Fixing the shell without the bone sutures to guide him proved difficult, but not impossible. It just involved drilling a lot more screws in than he usually would, and a much slower, tedious process. Drilling the holes parallel to each other and connecting them with tightened wire to pull the cracks together. The more he worked, the more he realized why the slashes were as awkward as they were. Whatever had attacked him had attacked not only the shield of his carapace, but taken off a few of the many spikes that covered his shell. Two of the dorsal ridges had been taken off at their middle, and a third was slashed off completely. Several more were chipped and slashed at the top, but not enough to warrant repair— not deep enough to bleed. After near two hours of intense focus, Donnie finally backed off the snapper and started to remove his bloody gloves.

“How is he?” Leo was on Donnie in an instant, “Is he okay?”

“He’s… stable.” Donnie said, discarding his gloves safely in the bio hazard bin.

“So are we gonna talk about what the fuck is happening here?” Raph appeared just as sudden and quick as Leo.

“He was hurt.” Donnie said calmly, going to his sink and washing up to his forearms before placing fresh gloves. “Something attacked him.”

“Yeah, we understand that, but… why does he look like Raph?”

Donnie didn't have an answer to give, even if he wanted to.

“Mikey, leave him alone.” Donnie pushed past his brothers, holding his gloved hands out in front of him and avoiding contact with everything that might contaminate the rubber. Mikey had taken the opening of Donnie’s absence to jump on the table and start to poke at the subject that Donnie now turned his attention to. Donnie ushered Mikey off of the table and away from his patients. “If you wanna help, see if you can figure out how to take that shell peice off of him.”

Donnie started to give the other mutant the same mouth and nose exam he had given to the snapper. Mikey obliged Donnie’s request, if only to give him more time to be in contact with the new mutant. Mikey picked up the mutants hand and dropped it, laughing as it dropped hard.

“Dude! This guys out cold!” Mikey stood over the mutant and leaned down to stick his face in the softshell’s.

“Out of the way, Mikey.” Donnie huffed and nudged Mikey away with his shoulder.

“What? Come on dude, I’m helping— I’m helping! Hey, what’s this button do?”

“Mikey, do not—“

Mikey pressed the botton on the mutants belt, and the belt snapped undone.

“Oh.” Donnie blinked, “Guess that could’ve been worse. Might’ve helped, actually.”

“See? Told ya I was helpful!” Mikey picked the armor off of the mutants carapace and tossed it haphazardly to the side. “Yoooo! He looks like a burnt pancake!”

“Mikey!” Leo scolded, “That’s not nice!”

“Why’s his back like that?” Mikey gawked.

“Yeah. It’s more like a moldy tortilla than a shell.” Raph commented.

“Cut it out, both of you!” Leo snarled.

“Why’s he look like that?” Mikey laughed and poked the shell, “ewww! It’s all squishy! And flexible!” Mikey bended the bridge of the shell and made the unconscious mutant groan and wince.

“Stop That!” Donnie nudged Mikey away. “He’s a softshell.”

“A what?”

“A softshell. Judging by these ridges, I’d guess Apalone Spinerifa—“

“In non-geek speak, please.”

“Spiny softshell.” Donnie sighed, “Anyway, his vitals seem stable, and there’s no obvious signs of damage. I’m guessing he just exhausted himself trying to carry that snapper for god knows how long— hell, I was breaking a sweat just carrying him home, and that was with Raphael’s help!”

“But he’s gonna be okay?”

“Mm.” Donnie hummed and started to examine the fleshy parts of the mutant. “He has some minor scratching and abrasions— nothing a little rest TLC can’t fix. They’re both cold, though— I’ll need to hook up a heat lamp to try and keep their body heat from dipping too low.”

“When will they wake?” Splinter asked suddenly, the brothers parting as he approached to let him get a better view of the young mutants.

“Hard to tell— the softshell will probably be up before the snapper, so anywhere from a few hours to a day I’d say.”

“And their ages?” Splinter traced a careful paw between the two wounded creatures, his eyes soft with worry.

“Um. Can’t really get specifics, but still in their teens— no older than sixteen I’d say.”

“Just boys… younger than you four.” He took the softshell’s head in his hands to look at his features more closely.

“What should we do, father?” Leo asked, appealing to the old rat.

“Mm. Make them comfortable. They are our guests.”

“But—“ Leo went to argue.

Splinter held up a paw. “They asked for our help, and we will give it to them. For now, all we can do is wait for one or both of them to wake up…”

[fangirl-ramblings]

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x gn!reader

Summary: A return trip from Annesburg is about to change your life forever

Word count: 1520

Notes: CW: vague descriptions of wounds | Unsure how to tag this right now, Amensia Plot | Unbetaed [Any feedback is appreciated]

Tags for: @husbandits.

I was so excited when I saw that I was assigned to be your Secret Santa this year (even if i do still have a request I need to fulfill for you 🙈) I loved each item on your wishlist, but this one really jumped out at me.

"okay, so there was a post going around like last year i think where arthur had gotten amnesia and the reader took him in, and honestly i haven't been able to get it out of my head these past few months for some reason"

I couldn't find the original post you referred to, but a rough idea started to form in my head...The only problem is, this idea is so much bigger than the stories I usually write and I was starting to run out of time to get it posted for in time for the @rdr-secret-santa event (as you well know, I'm a slow writer) so...please accept my humble offering of the first chapter while I try chip away at the remaining parts.

The Best Kept Memories

[working title]

Chapter 1: Late 1899 [Oct/Nov]

All this commotion was frustrating to say the least; you'd arrived in Annesburg late yesterday afternoon, ready to pick up the supplies you'd needed to stock your cabin up with before the weather turned back into the harsh winter the Grizzlies were famous for. Despite arriving in town a good 30 mins before the train carrying your supplies from Saint Dennis was due in at the station, an hour later you were still standing on the platform waiting for it to suddenly come rumbling down the tracks.

   "All the trains have been delayed you know" A local busybody informed you.

   "Yeah, I kinda gathered," you politely replied - not really wanting to be drawn into conversation...too bad the older lady didn’t get the message.

   "Talk is…" she leaned in close, as if she was sharing confidential intel that only you were to know about, "a bunch of degenerates living not too far from here, decided to rob one of the earlier trains coming up from city." 

You found yourself rolling your eyes internally upon hearing this; you were aware the Murfree Brood were a sadistic bunch of murdering bastards, but from what you previously heard about them, they could barely care for and ride their horses, let alone plan to board and rob a moving train.

"Terrible affair I heard, seems they managed to make it all the way up towards Bacchus Bridge before…" she stopped mid-conversation, not because she ran out of gossip to share with you but she had noticed that the tracks began to rumble and the sound of a train's whistle could be heard approaching the station.

   "Well, looks like the delay is finally over," you commented, pointing out the obvious.

  "Oh do excuse me will you." You sighed with relief as you watched the woman move a little down the way, heading towards the train's engine to see if the driver had any updates of the goings on in Saint Dennis to share with her.

By the time you'd finished loading your wagon up, you were exhausted and couldn't face the thought of driving home through Roanoke Ridge in the dark, especially if the Murfree Brood were still loitering about. Looking down the main street you saw the local hotel had some vacancies and made the impulsive decision to spend the night in one of the rooms there, ready to feel refreshed in time for your morning ride home.

While it seemed like a very good idea at the time, you soon realised you'd made a huge mistake. After waking up and having a quick wash before getting dressed, you made your way back outside to find the most peculiar sight. The mining town of Annesburg, usually full of workers with dirt covered faces, wandering about in their equally filthy overalls, was now overrun by well dressed men in suits. 

   "They say they're Pinkertons." You overheard the gossiping woman that you encountered the previous night, telling her newly captive audience. "One of them told me personally that there was a gunfight up near Beaver Hollow."

   "Well Eunice, I heard talk there was reports of those hooligans that they're after, fleeing into the night and the 'Pinkertons' had to chase them all over the Ridge well into the early hours of the morning," another lady informed her, looking super smug that she'd been able to provide some information that her friend wasn't already privy too.

   "Well either way, several roads around the area have been blocked off by the men in suits." Eunice huffed before walking off, looking for a less informed person to chat too.

Shaking your head, you dismissed their talk as nothing but idle gossip and jumped up on your wagon, ready to head back home along one of the roads leading South.

   "This road is closed," the well-suited man hissed as you approached the roadblock with your wagon. "I suggest you find another route."

   "It wasn’t closed yesterday when I rode into town, any chance you could let me go past just this once?" you protested, not really knowing why you were bothering. His stony face told you this was not a man who had much compassion for others, but wanting to get back home before the storm brewing on the East side of the Lannahechee river rolled in, you persisted, "I can be home within the hour if you let me past, whereas the other route will take me twice as long - not to mention those treacherous mountain roads I'd be forced to travel along."

   "I said, find...another...way" he growled at you, clenching his teeth as he emphasised each word.

   "Fine," you sighed as you reversed your wagon and drove along the road heading north.

Even though this route would take you the better part of the day to get home, you didn't mind so much as you could take the time to enjoy the beautiful scenery of this part of the country, especially the area around the huge mountain that rudely stood directly in front of you.

Taking a left hand turn to finally head southwards; you trundled along, lost in a world of your own as you admired the red wildflowers that grew in abundance here. Making a mental note to maybe pick some up on your next visit up here, so you could liven your cabin up, you were shocked when your horse suddenly reared up, whinnying a distressed shrill.

   "Hey now Ponos, what's to do with you?" you asked gently, hopping down off your wagon to assess the area around you. There was nothing obvious that you could see in the road, but out of the corner of your eye you noticed a flock of scavenger birds circling over something that must be hidden out of sight behind the giant rock to your right.

   "Trust you to be scared of a half-eaten animal" you chuckled as you patted Ponos' neck in an effort to calm him down. A beautiful Chestnut coloured Belgian Draft, you'd named him after the Greek God of hard labour & toil and while you couldn���t fault his excellent work ethic and seemingly unlimited stamina, you soon realised why the stable owner had offered you such a cheap price for him all those years ago; this giant of a horse was easily spooked by the smallest of things.

After reaching up to grab your gun from underneath your seat, you started walking over to the most likely spot to investigate. If it was a fresh kill you had enough space on your wagon to throw the carcass on and take it home to make a nice meal or two out of.

Approaching the overgrowth behind the rock, the birds squawked and scattered when they realised that you were about to steal the meal they had their eyes on. Getting closer, you noticed a heaped mound laying there. Your mouth started to water as you realised whatever this was, it was certainly likely to be bigger than a rabbit and therefore would provide several tasty meals over the next few days. Using the barrel of your rifle, you cautiously moved apart the long grass, almost dropping your gun as you finally saw what was previously hidden.

Looking like death personified this was certainly no animal, but a seriously injured man. His poor face, gaunt, bloody and bruised. Judging by the shallow, laboured breaths you could see him trying to take, he was still alive - but only just.

   "Sir? Sir? Can you hear me?" You asked, not really expecting a response but the almost corpse groaned and weakly nodded in response.

You glanced back at the grey clouds that had followed you on your journey from Annesburg, before looking back at this wretched soul. What was it your old pa used to tell you?

   'There's never any harm in being a good Samaritan to those that need your help.'

Realising that you could never let yourself walk away and leave a healthy man to be stranded in a storm, let alone an almost dead one to succumb from his wounds, you quickly set your gun aside and placed his arms around your neck. Summoning all the strength you had, you somehow managed to pick the sandy-haired man up and manoeuvre him onto the back of your wagon. 

   "I live a short ride away, you’re welcome to rest there until you get your strength back up.” Unravelling a few pelts you had stored with the rest of your cargo, you tossed them over the injured man to help try to keep him warm.

   "Sorry it's not very comfy but I guess it beats lying there in the cold waiting for the cruel embrace of death," you explained whilst taking out a carrot from your satchel to feed Ponos, in the hope he had gotten over his fear and was willing to continue your journey back home, “Tell me, do you have a name sir?”

Jumping back into the driver’s seat, you looked back over your shoulder, only to find your passenger had passed out.

[bonnie-barstow-of-flag]

Killer Knightmares:

@avictimofthejazz an au based off a KR season 2 episode of the same name & knight of the drones vibe.

Dr. Bonnie Barstow is dutifully diligent with all of her work. She obsesses over even the most minuscule and trivial details to achieve perfection. It’s one of the many reasons she’s been added to the staff at the University of San Francisco under the supervision of the reputable David Halston.

___

It’s virtually unfathomable how much damage an ill-programmed microchip the size of a finger-nail could inflict. A twisted sense of insatiable fascination clutches a bewitching grasp over her complete attention. The tiny chip captured under the view of the highly advanced microscope was an absolute marvel with it’s bright ridges of gold along with it’s small valleys and backroads paved in a far duller shade of silver. It’s a coded maze that Bonnie can easily interpret. One infinitesimal change to the programming can mean the difference between life and death. Bonnie’s searching, seeking out the one piece of the prototype keeping it from functioning as designed. She could never and would never give the go-ahead on anything that could be considered dangerous. Even more so given the incidents that occurred because of Karr.

“There’s a call for you on line four, Bonnie.” Comes Halston’s abrupt half-careless words. Placing indelicate hands upon the slopes of her shoulders, he continues. “I’m starting to feel like your personal secretary.” It’s a gripe he made in earnest. He’s been, in no uncertain terms, telling her former associates to stop calling for months now. That Bonnie’s happier here without them hounding her. He delighted in being able to get her to refuse their offers to have her return. Of course, David hadn’t bothered to asked permission to make those direct assertions. He just did. Dr. Halson needed her. Even if Bonnie wasn’t fully aware of it, she had become vital to the success of his and Margo’s operations.

He leans over her shoulder to take a non-committal glance at her progress with the microchip. “It’s quite strange really.” He cryptically starts. The rest of the explanation failing to come as an immediate continuance.

Skeptical, Bonnie’s turquoise orbs lift towards her revered mentor while he speaks. Worry warps her usually beautiful countenance as she discovers herself clinging to his every utterance. Every easy breath hinged upon what would come next.

When her attention is fully upon him, he reveals against the shell of her ear all that he’d been biting back. “It’s a hospital near Los Angeles. A nurse Langly from Hoff Medical Center or other. She ‘claims’ it’s urgent.” There’s a deep trench of sarcasm imbued when his lips reach the word “claims”. He is well aware that she has no real family in the city. At least no one she should want to have contact with, given all the bridges he’s helped her burn. The remnants of her family were located in Boston. His eyes befall her with the great expectation that she’d pass it off.

Halston’s blasé indifference to the potentially serious situation doesn’t settle right with her. It lays like a load of swallowed bricks and mortar, in the formation of a thick, impenetrable, unmovable wall might; uncomfortably heavy. “I...” She swallows thickly, “I’d better get that.” The brunette rises from the stool she had been occupying and brushes past him. “It’s probably a crank call.” Arrives her half-hopeful utterance as she moves towards the thick plastic phone.

Sweeping a buoyant wake of chestnut barrel-rolls from her face, she lifts the receiver to her ear. “Dr. Barstow speaking. How can I help you?” She answers. Her lower-lip tucking between her teeth as she actively listens to the other voice. Twirling her fingers around the curly-q chord, she attempts to sort her thoughts. “Wait? What?” Panic bubbles upwards in her tone. Her once lax stance stiffens against the nearest wall. Her grip on the phone tightens to prevent it from slipping from her hand. “Are you sure?” A pause. “Could you repeat that name again?”

Nurse Langly patiently repeats, “Michael Long.” After a few seconds, she adds, “you’re his emergency contact.”

The warmth and color that usually could be found in Bonnie’s features drains as the gravity of the situation is rapidly dawning upon her. This was either a twisted macabre prank or it was a genuine emergency. Hardly anyone outside the Foundation knew that name or the history behind it. To invoke that name was to tug at Bonnie’s heartstrings. She has no other choice but to go investigate. If it was Michael and he was in trouble, she would never be able to forgive herself for ignoring his call.

Was it possible that he still had her number in his wallet? That Michael had never gotten around to changing his ICE list? If he hadn’t- why?

“Keep him there as long as you can.” Bonnie tersely instructs. Her heart skips a series of beats as she continues, “I’m leaving now.” With a glance down at her own delicate wrist watch, she calculates the amount of time it’ll take her to get that location. “I should be there in a few hours.” As she puts down the receiver, Bonnie contemplates ringing Devon and the Foundation. But she doesn’t. Not until she can fully ascertain if this is a joke or not.

Halston snags the frantic brunette’s wrist as she races towards the door. Throatily he demands, “where do you think you’re going? I didn’t give you permission to leave, and I know class hasn’t been dismissed. If you leave in the middle of our project, you’ll be costing the University thousands of dollars. You’re potentially destroying any hopes you had of a scholarship.” His concerns obviously rest with their work.

She wrestles her arm back from her professor’s clutches. Turquoise orbs darken when they lock upon Halston’s. Her expression is obviously deeply wounded and yet, out of respect for her mentor, she delays. “I’m sorry. I have to go...” Her words leave no uncertain airs about them. “I’ll be back when I can.” Bonnie is well aware that her defiance of direct orders could potentially cost her this incredible opportunity. Yet, she does not care! The Foundation has and always would be a primary concern for her. It didn’t matter how much time had elapsed since her employment with them, they were her family.

Bonnie is keenly aware that Halston is beckoning for her, yelling intangible words in her wake. She doesn’t dare turn back now with her feet already set on a steady course.

----

Only one thought prevailed as the brunette lunges past other students and into the parking-lot. Michael Knight could be in real trouble, and he needed her. She can’t fathom any set of circumstances that would require resurrecting a name that should have been buried. In her gut, she knows something is terribly amiss. But what?

Seven hours of the endless highway and traffic sprawled between the former partners. Every minute of that time seemed to conjure up a fresh, new fear as to what the explanation could be. Internally, she had been running herself through an extensive list of people who knew Michael Knight before he was the man she’d grown to love. Stevie was murdered. Tanya walker died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound. Vernon Gray and the others were in rotting in jail.

With the review of every case, came the discomforting realization that Michael and the Foundation were in the habit of making ruthless adversaries. Some of them were worse than others.

A startling thought does occur to her. Garthe and Elizabeth Knight knew about Wilton’s pet project. He knew that his father rescued Michael Long from that cold Nevada desert. However, Garthe and Goliath had taken a swan dive off a cliff. He couldn’t be pulling a crude trick like this. He had to be dead. Or was he? Worse still, could this be the work of Garthe’s vengeful mother? No. Why would they call her for help and risk the Foundation foiling another one of their wicked plots? They wouldn’t. Not even if they were aiming for the absolute annihilation of Wilton’s every dream.

Could it be the Chameleon? No. The man couldn’t have uncovered Knight’s former life. As far as the skilled impersonator knew, Michael had always existed as Knight. His previous life was a mystery. Or so Bonnie hoped it had remained an unsolvable riddle.

Every trudged up possibility seems to leave Bonnie with more unanswerable questions. She returned, time and time again, to square one. Frustration wells up inside of her veins as the brunette settles on the idea that Knight’s run into deep trouble on an investigation. This had to be a cry for help.

-----

Whilst Bonnie Barstow was not known for speeding, her foot increases the pressure on the gas pedal. The rev of the engine increases. Tires find themselves turning over at a quicker and quicker rate. All four heated rubber tires give a squeal of relief when she finally pulls up in front of the Hoff Medical Center.

With haste, she abandons her car in the parking-lot and races inside. Flagging down the first nurse she can find, she spurts out. “Please, I’m here for Michael Knight.” Entreating eyes catch the vacuous look to the nurses eyes and she repeated her words. “I’m Dr. Barstow. I got a call at the University where I work. I’m here for my - Michael Knight...” Ah, that’s where the issue dwells. She cringes before correcting herself. “Michael Long.”

That name garnered the desired knowledgeable reaction from the nursing staff. “This way.” The blonde nurse instructs taking up the lead through the sanitized hallway, armed with her clipboard.

“Can... can you tell me what happened to Michael?” Bonnie fearfully presses. She swallows down every fear collecting inside of her veins and penting-up in her chest. Having a breath catch in her throat, she manages to choke out. “Is he -- is he alright?” The concern taking up residence in the concentric confines of her eyes is genuine. Lord knows, she wouldn’t be able to cope with losing him.

The nurse keenly eyes her. The sympathy evident upon all of her etched features. “We’re looking at a mild concussion and bruised ribs. He’s lucky that nothing is broken. He must be in really good shape. Built like a tank that fella of yours is.” Any other man would have been in far worse shape.

Bonnie is too taken aback by the diagnosis to correct the woman’s assumption about her and Michael. In fact, she nearly misses the correlation as she is ushered into the room.

“He’s a real charmer. Your Officer Long is.” The nurse adds casting a wink in her direction.

Officer Long? God. It still felt anomalous to hear that in a sentence even with their extensive history together. She knew about his past. She was there the day Wilton brought Michael under his care. Until today, it had been years since that name fell upon Bonnie’s ears. Now, all of the sudden, she couldn’t seem to escape the shadow of the vastly unused moniker.

“Tried to flirt his way out of X-rays and everything.” The nurse actively points out. Her amusement with the fact is fairly obvious.

A perfectly manicured brow raises as Bonnie seats herself beside the man she knows under a very different name. “He really is. Isn’t he?” She fondly agrees. That had always been a part of the problem between them. Hadn’t it? His natural charisma instantly endeared him to almost every woman on the planet. She vividly recollects that he had tactfully employed it on more than one occasion to get what he wanted. He was kind enough to polish his act every time he attempted to use it on her.

Until the moment Bonnie cast her eyes upon Michael, it hadn’t struck her how intensely homesick she’d been for his familiar presence. Her heart gives off a series of palpable pangs against her ribcage as if it was sending Mores Code. Rescue was not bound to happen. No one could heed an unspoken SOSes. Could they? Despite her efforts to reign the unruly muscle in, it kept barreling ahead like an out-of-control freight train down the tracks.

Why was it that only Michael could arouse such chaos inside of her even when she had striven so desperately to move on? She tried to replace him with Dr. Halston and many other guys. Yet, nothing could fill that awful void that Michael left behind.

In that moment, with his large frame half swallowed by the hospital bed, she uncovers a dangerous revelation. She still loved him. As loathe to admit it as she is, those deeply-rooted feelings exist. They dwell in the undismissable realms of shadows where buried emotions and feelings are destined to remain.

Bonnie’s trembling hand gingerly brushes a dark-chestnut curl from the expanse of his warm forehead. The fluffy texture under the worn-pads of her fingers causes a familiar ache to awaken inside of her. “Michael, sweetheart....” She coos the term of endearment with a gentle insistence. She dare not startle him awake after the hell he’s obviously been put through with his injuries.

Her own lips bend into a shaky smile. “I’ve come to take you home.” His home? Her home? The Foundation? It didn’t really matter so long as he was back with people who loved and would protect him. As long as he was safe, Bonnie would never issue a complaint.  

[prettyandsarcastic]

when you have to be both.

herald/sidestep

1,997 words

"Can I ask you something?" 

Herald's question is whispered into the darkness of his bedroom, so quietly that January almost misses it. It's asked gently, softly, the way someone would speak to a spooked animal - and if that isn't just an apt description of January she doesn't know what else would be more fitting. 

His mind is a nervous, curious hum, almost vibrating against the walls of her mental shields. But there's a fear there as well, pawing plaintively behind the anxiety. 

She wants to tell him no. Because that's what got her into this situation, into Herald's bed, in the first place. A simple favor asked with too endearing, nerve-flushed cheeks and a bright, hopeful smile. 

She wants to tell him not right now. Because she wants to forget, just for a moment longer, about the world beyond the edges of this bed. Wants to curl up into the solid warmth of him and pretend they're just Daniel and January. 

Instead, January takes a breath and replies in the same way she doomed herself those months ago: "Asking's free."

The inhaling breath that Daniel takes is as much for courage as it is for time. His mind is now a flurry as possible reactionary scenarios to his question flit across his thoughts like a flip-comic. His best case scenario is that she'll have a similar breakdown to when January revealed her tattoos to him. His worst case is that she will leave and he'll never see her again. 

"Please," Daniel begins and January hears him lick his lips in the dark. "Don't… don't feel like you have to answer, but… how are you different… from the — others?" 

The others. 

She knows without clarification that he means the other ReGenes. The ones who could not possibly be mistaken for anything near human with their blue-grey skin and full bodied sickly orange tattoos. Meant to stand out, be seen and feared, used and recycled or discarded when they outlived their usefulness.

Not like you. 

The blanket pools at January's waist as she sits up. And the room begins to spin as she drops her head in her hand, tries to keep the panic from crumpling her lungs like tin foil. Sweat starts to dampen her hairline, is beading on her upper lip and she's terrifyingly aware of how heavily she's suddenly breathing. Her throat is achingly dry when she tries to swallow and desperately wishes she had a drink. Whiskey, bourbon, scotch, anything to burn out the bile she can already taste at the back of her tongue. 

January is desperately trying not to feel the chill of an exam table against her back. The sharp, biting pinprick of a needle at the bend of her elbow. White noise static loss of feeling in her fingers and toes from too tight restraints. The weight of sensors and their cords attached to her skin, itching with adhesive. The too clean scent of disinfectant, antiseptic overpowering the metallic tang of blood, the sour smell of sweat. Whirs and beeps and the humming of machinery drowning out the cacophony of detached, methodical thoughts — 

Daniel's hand is suddenly warm and real against her back, splayed across her shoulder blade, the tips of his fingers fitting between the notches of her spine. "Hey," he breathes. "It's okay. January, come back to me." 

She focuses on the weight of his hand on her, the navy tinted, apologetic concern of his thoughts. The ridges of certain scars beneath the pads of his fingers as he soothes his hand across her shoulders before he cups the back of her neck. If he can feel her trembling and the sweat slick on her skin, he doesn't acknowledge it. 

"I'm sorry," he says when she seems to, finally, calm. "I shouldn't have asked." 

January shakes her head, takes a deep fortifying breath. "Don't be, it's alright," she replies, and if her voice is a little wrecked, a little brittle, well...

And maybe she says it's alright because there's no malice in his thoughts. No disgust - no, never that and never because of her or anything she would ever tell him (and if that thought doesn't just make her want to laugh out loud because he has no idea). There's a definitive divide in Daniel's mind between her and the others even without January answering his question. Just as he had made the divide between Sidestep and January. 

ReGene. January. Sidestep. 

Three faces. Three masks. Three divides. She's not sure how much more Daniel can separate the pieces of her identity before the person he says he loves isn't even her. Before that person in his head becomes something he wants her to be rather than the person she is… 

Before he starts to look at you like Ortega does. With the weight of too many expectations.

She can’t even make the distinction between her masks that Daniel can. Not anymore. There are too many threads that she has to keep separate and they keep getting tangled and twisted into knots. And one day she’s going to get caught in her own spider’s web of lies and deception. ReGene. January. Sidestep. Jane. Enyo. She is all of those and more. And yet, perhaps, maybe none of them at all because she’s never had the true freedom to discover who or what she might really be.

January can't fault him for his curiosity even though she knows that she should. After all, it's not everyday the person you're in love with tells you that they're not even human. She also knows it would be better in the long run for them both if she shoved him away with all the violence trapped behind the prison of her ribcage. 

But you tried that already. 

"I'm… valuable," January finally says on an exhale. 

She sees Daniel shake his head out of the corner of her eye. "January, it’s okay you don't -"

Her fingers, gentle against the plush of his lips, cut him off. Her hand is a ruined mess compared to beauty of him. Long fingers that would be elegant were they not crooked from fractures that healed wrong or the scars on her knuckles and the jagged, chipped polish of her nails. 

"It's okay," she assures him. 

Daniel nods, his mind going soft and golden like sunrise so overwhelmingly relieved that she hasn’t run, hasn’t tried yet again to push him away. His expression remains neutral as he takes her hand, kisses the scar on her palm that itches when she’s stressed, then lightly over the pulse fluttering beneath her wrist and the haggard scar there as well. He’s not certain he could bear to be parted from her now. 

“Okay,” he replies. “Tell me.” 

So she does, haltingly at first, then with more confidence if not with more detail. It’s more a bullet point summary because truthfully she can’t bring herself to give more details. There’s things Daniel doesn’t need to know, things January doesn’t want him to know. She doesn’t want to add even more fuel to the raging wildfire of anger his thoughts have become. 

Daniel never moves to comfort her, or try to reach out and touch her again as January speaks; just sits quietly, holding his rage softly inside himself even if she can see it hardening his eyes and tightening his jaw. And even though there’s a whirlwind of questions in his mind, he never asks them, never pushes her for more than she’s willing to give. 

Not like Ortega who asks and pushes and insists because he doesn’t know how to give up without a fight and everything he’s ever let go of has bruises from how hard he holds on. Because he wants everything to fit into the image he has in his head, wants to fix everything, fix her. And it doesn’t matter to Ortega how much he cuts himself on all her sharp edges trying to piece her back together. 

“And… that’s it,” January finishes rather inelegantly. 

“So I take it that January isn’t your real name?” 

The absurdness of the question startles a laugh out of her. All the things she had just told him and that was his first question. Relief trickles down her spine, something warm and comforting curls in the pit of her stomach like a content cat. And Daniel smiles, laughs with her, beautiful and so full of adoration for her that for just a moment she hates him. Why should he still love her even now? 

“No, it’s not. They never gave us names. It was January the first time I escaped.”

“And Moreno?” 

She shrugs. “Saw it on a highway sign.” 

“This is why you never officially joined the Rangers.” It’s not really a question. 

With a sigh, January lays back against the pillows, but turns to look at Daniel. “I wouldn’t submit myself to the background check because I knew I wouldn’t pass it.” Idly, she lifts her hand, contemplates the freckles and the scars, and her crooked fingers. “There are so many things that bear my fingerprints, things I don’t remember.”

And then there are things she does remember, like shattering Herald’s knee. 

“Not to mention,” she continues, “if I had done the background check they would have found me that much faster. If they catch me this time... I don’t think I’ll be able to escape again.”

And when it comes down to it, isn’t that why she’s doing this? Why she let Sidestep rot at the bottom of the grave they dug and rose up again as Enyo? Because January won’t let The Farm get a hold of her again and there are no limitations or rules to hold her back anymore. She’ll drag their dirty secrets through the streets with bloodied hands for everyone to see… 

And what are you willing to sacrifice to see it happen? 

Daniel’s hand finds hers, strong, warm fingers threading through hers. “They’ll have to go through me first,” he insists. 

“They will,” January answers, her voice flat. “They can and they will.” 

The bed shifts suddenly as Daniel moves and then he’s over her and January shifts until her knees bracket his hips. There’s that brief flash of instinct she has, the points on Daniel’s body she needs to hit to escape, but she forces it away and blinks up at him. His eyes are intense and so, so blue and his thoughts are all the metallic steel color of stubborn determination. 

“You don’t get it. I won’t let anything happen to you,” Daniel says. And he has that look on his face again, the hard set one that he sometimes gets when they spar. He means every single word. “I won’t let anyone or anything take you from me, January.” 

“Daniel -” 

This time it’s his fingers, soft against her lips that stop her. “No,” he tells her as his hand moves, fingertips caressing the angle of her cheekbone, brushing against the bruised circles under her eyes. “I love you.” 

January sighs, if only to keep herself from giving in to the stinging at the corners of her eyes. He’s ridiculous, but he loves her and he would do anything to keep her safe and in his arms. He won’t hear her tell him how he can’t protect her, can’t keep her safe, that he won’t have a choice when The Farm finally comes for her again. 

She rises up on an elbow, catches Daniel in a kiss that he eagerly returns with a soft sound. She’s not sure if she loves him, and if she does, how would she know what love feels like? Perhaps they made her incapable of it for all she knows. But she does know that her heart hurts, feels fit to burst when Daniel presses her back into the mattress and his hands start to roam. 

You are going to ruin him. 

… Maybe. Lover or enemy. Hero or villain. Human or monster. She has to be both.

what is more unfair than having to choose  between being a monster or being a hero?

(- when you have to be both.)

when you learn that the road to hell is paved with more than just good intentions. - you are not heads or tails; you are the coin

m.a.w 

[shoelace-and-friends]

Top 10 BEST chips I’m right you’re wrong

I love love loooooove giving unsolicited opinions on junk food (and just ranking food and drinks in general) so you get to see my chip opinions clog up your dash. I’m in the mood to make a list of potato chips and if you don’t like it too bad for you.  My tastebuds are God and they know what’s up and they must tell their divine word. 

10. Pizza Pringles

I don’t even fuck with other types of Pringles ever since I tried the pizza flavor because I am absolutely convinced that these are the top tier of the Pringles. Pringles gets points for having pretty much the only pizza flavored chips that I know about.  But these still get the 10 spot because tube. I’m a potato chip garbage disposal I need a whole-ass bag of chips. The tube simply aint enough. 

9.  Herr’s Carolina Reaper Cheese Curls

For some reason I’m only ever able to find these at 5 Below??? I’m guessing it’s because these are considered a novelty but they are genuinely really good. They’re not as hot as advertised (Carolina reaper is listed as the very last ingredient and there’s probably barely any of it there) but they still have a kick and do not fuck around. Like, just enough of a kick that these will hurt you but it’s a good kind of pain and worth it if you can handle spice. The flavor is more like a spicy barbecue sauce but it works. If you’re like, super-duper white though and a spice wimp than you probably should sit this one out. 

8.  Hawaiian Sweet Maui Onion

It’s been literal years since I’ve last been able to get my hands on a bag of these but I still remember them because they were that good. They make pretty much any other onion flavored chip their bitch. I’ve been trying to hunt these down but I think only certain kinds of ~hipster~ grocery stores seem to carry them in my area. 

7.  Cheetos (Regular)

A classique. Pretty much anyone whose had these before probably expected them to be on this list. Cheetos are simply iconic. I don’t even need to go in depth here. The original Cheetos are a masterpiece but I’ll be honest they aren’t my favorite Cheeto though. 

6.  White Cheddar Cheetos Puffs

These are my favorite Cheeto. They’re just so....stuff-in-your-mouth-able. The white cheese dust is basically cocaine to me. And they like, melt in your mouth too? Simply Cheetos Puffs more like Simply be my wife. 

5.  Ranch Bugles

Ah yes...little witch hats for the fingies. Bugles are so much fun to eat? They get lots of unique shape points. And big points for the corny, salty flavor. And in my opinion, out of all the ranch flavored convenience store snacks I think Bugles have the better ranch flavor, even more so than Cool Ranch Doritos even. I might make some people mad with that opinion, but I’m right. 

4. Spicy Sweet Chili Doritos

The best Doritos flavor, hands down. Compared to spicy sweet chili, most of the other Dorito flavors seem more one-dimensional. Being both spicy and sweet gives these Doritos a more complex flavor profile. Nacho Cheese and Cool Ranch could never. I really like how these have a respectable heat but are still mild enough that you can bigtime binge on them. 

3.  Ruffles Double Crunch Hot Wings

I like these for a similar reason that I like the Doritos. They’re not that spicy but they’re still spicy enough to notice it. A lot of “spicy” snacks out there aren’t really spicy at all because...white people. They actually did get the taste of buffalo sauce on these chips pretty accurate and I was impressed with them. I know that a regular version exists out there, but for some reason I only ever find the double crunch one. But in this case I think the crunch might work in its favor because it holds the flavor better. BTW, ridged chips are superior to smooth chips. 

2.  Ruffles Cheddar and Sour Cream

The #1 chip in my ranking is usually hard to obtain so when I go chip shopping, Ruffles Cheddar and Sour Cream is usually my go-to because of how easy they are to find. They’re popular and deserve it because they are everything a chip should be. Crunchy, salty, cheesy, sour creamy....if anyone doesn’t know, I fucking love sour cream and would eat it straight with a spoon if it weren’t for the fact that I’m probably lactose intolerant and it would be seen as insane. Like...Ruffles are shaped like that so you could dip them but these don’t need dip. They already taste like the best dip ever. 

1. Honey Butter Chips 

Not to be Korean on main in my mostly American chip ranking but...these are the best chip. Honey and butter sounds like it wouldn’t work together, much less on a potato chip but holy shit does it work. I’m agnostic but when I eat these chips I see pretty much every God ever believed in or conceived. I need the rest of the world outside of South Korea to start recognizing and getting in on these. Please I’m begging you non-asian people make these chips become trendy the same way y’all did with Pocky. I need these to become more assessable because as of now the only stores that I can find them are the Korean supermarkets across state lines near Chicago that are like two hours away from my house. This in unacceptable. I need them readily available at the nearest Pick N’ Save. Also side note look how sexy this bag is. 

*Before you complain about about Lays not being on this list at all, Lays Sour Cream and Onion would’ve had the 11th spot if it’s any consolation 

*Also to anyone outside the US whose gonna go “How Americentric of you [insert chip from your country] is far superior!!!” mail me some potato chips. I fucking mean it like legitly getting to try foreign potato chips would make me immeasurably happy, but I obviously can’t easily get them here 

[disenchantedhq]

AURADON CITY: THE CAPITAL OF THE UNITED KINGDOM

Auradon City was once a broken down old parrish where an abandoned palace sat but following the Cauldron War, His Majesty King Adam had decided to rebuild upon the barren town bones to create a city of such magnificence and splendor which could be seen from the southern foreign lands. It is the stronghold of The United Kingdom of Auradon, its most crowning achievement, and it is here that the royal palace was constructed. It had taken twelve years of nonstop building, starting in 1801, and has since become the permanent home of the royal family. Split into Eight Districts, each boasting their own unique businesses and points of interest, it stands as the largest city in all the land. Between the shopping of Centre Commercial, the entertainment of Upper District, the magic of the Enchanted Hills, and the pristine townhomes of the Garden District, there is much to be seen in Auradon — even in its Low Town and Seaside Ridge districts, which boast some of the best foods (and admittedly seedier delights). Welcome to Auradon City; we hope you have a splendid visit.

Below the cut is a tour of all eight districts of Auradon City, as well as information on the 22 points of interest labeled on the map. Starting here on it is suggested you mention location/time frame of your threads based in and around the city. Characters are free to journey to any district, with the exception of the Garden District which is home of the nobility and the only gated district in the city. Refer to the information below for more help in understanding the city and its layout. And as always — reach out should you have any questions.

THE ROYAL PALACE

Slightly off center from the city, where the gated Garden District and Central Auradon meet, lays the Royal Palace. Home to their Majesties King Adam and Queen Belle, and their daughter Her Royal Highness Princess Emma, Auradon Palace is the newest castle in all of Auradon. While there was the abandoned Catherine Palace in the north of the city, King Adam and Queen Belle desired to create a brand new home to raise their family and rule over their citizens. It is what took up the majority of the twelve year construction project to create the capitol, and prior to its construction the family lived at either the chateau or King Adam’s former castle by the Enchanted Forest. At approximately 680,000 square feet, it is the largest palace in the entire continent. With a large guarded gate around it, and vast gardens between, it is an impressive sight to see from beyond, though few have been close. In the early days of Auradon, the King and Queen allowed for the citizens to come and visit frequently, to stroll the gardens and even tour the halls, particularly to spend time in the grand ballrooms (of which there are four within) and the library. But in recent times the gates closed off to the public as concerns over the royal family’s safety came into question. With over 2,300 rooms, 2,000 windows, 1,250 chimneys, and 67 grand stair cases, it is considered the most impressive architecture in all of Auradon and is home to many yearly events such as Queen Belle’s Ball, the Yuletide Ball, Rose Day Festivities, and much more. To get an audience in the castle is highly rare — state business is conducted often at The University or even at Queen Belle’s Chateau. Along its border gates are four guard houses where the elite members of the Royal Guard are housed on duty, with the castle grounds having a 24/7 security intel of over 100 guards on the grounds, spread throughout.

GARDEN DISTRICT

Despite its name, the Garden District actually lacks in gardens but that doesn’t mean it isn’t a colorful nor beautiful sight. The only district in the city, aside from the palace, which has a gated perimeter (of which it shares gates with the palace) the Garden District is home to the other former royals of Auradon, those who relinquished their crowns for lesser titles when uniting the kingdoms in one grand country. At least, when they gather in town. With rows upon rows of gorgeous town homes, the sizes of which are far more impressive than meets the eye, the Garden District is the one district that is quiet for half the year. It becomes let when the social season begins and the noble families travel from their various home territories to the city to mingle. The townhomes have been built in likeness, tall and narrow from the outside, but deep and long, with balconies and tall windows from which the nobles may look outside onto the well polished paved roads. The fronts are beautiful colors, pastels that befit the families within, and from the back they have long lush backyards which many have manicured in the stylish designed gardens of the palace. Carriages are rare within the Garden District, where most walk around on foot, gayly greeting their neighbors. Gentlemen callers step into the charming stylish salons to call upon the refined ladies, who sit by the windows as they needle point. There are few buildings outside of the homes within the Garden District, and as such it is the smallest district within. The closer your home is to the castle, the higher your status. As such, the three Dukes and their families have town houses which are slightly larger and grander by the gates closest to the castle. The Earls are placed near to them, and the Viscounts and Barons are the furthest housed from the castle on the noble lines. On the northeastern end, facing the N. Rue De Destin you can find the untitled members of society in town homes which are still brightly colored but are all a bit smaller than the noble town homes. And on the north western side, facing Upper District you can find a few social clubs for men and women alike to attend, one public garden (though private to the citizens of the gates) and an assembly room for small gatherings of the Garden Elite.

CENTRE COMMERCIAL

Sitting to the east of Town Square and the Garden District, and bordered by the outer city tenet farmer lands, is the Centre Commercial. As it’s name suggests, this district is where the vendors and tradesmen of Auradon have settled. While there are small stylish apartments, it is known mostly for its Rue de Magasins where the most frequented shops for noblemen and women alike are situated. The most skilled Modiste in all of Auradon City can be found here, conveniently just a couple blocks away from the Garden District gates. Young ladies are constantly floating in and out of there, wearing the latest fashions and trends which originate right here in the capitol city. Its seamstress is the most heavily regarded in all of Auradon, and she makes her clothing with fine needle and the assistance of only the most skilled birds and mice in all the kingdom. Likewise the ‘Chip in a Cup’ Tea Shoppe can be found nearby, and is considered one of the prime cafes to take a sweetheart to when you wish to be unsupervised in public. Just outside of the Garden District Gates along Evermore Parkway sits a Gentlemen’s Club, a private society club for the noblemen to mingle and jest. While it is rumored some nefarious dealings happen within the clubhouse, it is overall a pristine company which devotes itself to charity and good works. Along with these hot spots there is a general shop, bakery, blacksmith, cobbler, and artisan guild centered here, among many other restaurants and shopping experiences. Centre Commercial’s motto is this — should you desire it, then you will surely find it right here!

LOW TOWN

The southeastern most district in Auradon City, Low Town earned its name and reputation from a number of sources. Primarily because it is “lower” than the other districts, both physically and socially (though the beaches of seaside ridge are more southern), but also because of its poor maintenance and dense poor population which gives the overall district a less than savory public image. Similar to its neighboring Old Town, Low Town has cobbled streets which would be charming if they were cleaned and swept more often. While society on the other districts is more polite and the streets better taken care of, Low Town is full of foul mouthed sailors and vagrants that relieve themselves on the side of the road and who toss chamber pots from their second or third story windows. Most of Low Town is made up of banged up tenement houses and run down older buildings from prior to Auradon City’s construction. Housing the most docks on Auradon City’s coast, it’s one of the first places where poor foreigners dock when they wish to move to the city or see it. Among its points of interest are some seedier places, such as the Poison Apple Pub, oldest pub in the entire city which is hidden in a twisting alleyway, and a Brothel which is run by a Madam Plaisir and is said to be somewhere among the broken down buildings by the docks. Most of the Royal Guard and Royal Navy men can be seen patrolling the streets, supposedly on duty, keeping the citizens of Low Town ‘in line’, though they’re also known to frequent the establishments there — you can especially see the former at Madam Plaisir’s following a long voyage at sea. Any form of deviant behavior and entertainment exists here. Rumor has it that there is another private underground club, for those of certain persuasions which may not feel comfortable expressing themselves publicly just yet to meet other likeminded individuals, but its not public knowledge whether this place exists let alone where it may exist. It is also in this district where the Shadowborn boarding houses are, just by the border of Low Town and Town Square where they were first presented.

OLD TOWN

Old Town is the oldest and mostly untouched part of Auradon City, with the exception of preservationists who try to keep it looking relatively nice. It borders the tenet farms and is less city than any of the other parts. More so a widely spread country parish, it’s the quaintest area in all of Auradon City. Old Town doesn’t boast many things of interest — there is the old Hall of Records here (though most relevant documentation is now housed at the University) and there are a couple older shoppes and a general store there. Among its more interesting finds is a large Farmers Market where the tenet farmers come to sell their stock, and then the most frequented stop of all is Maurice’s Emporium, a large and odd looking workshop run by the Queen’s aging commoner father. Here one can get a glimpse of the sort of mechanics and curiosities that will ‘become the norm’ of the future, all done at the hands of the master scientist and inventor. Aside from that oddity, Old Town is also home to the only orphanage in all of Auradon: Granny Willow’s Home for Orphaned Children. The orphans are known for wearing long red capes (for girls) or coats (for boys) and can often be seen walking single file through the village. They rarely visit the city itself, but make occasional trips to see the shoppes or catch a concert whenever the royal family is generous enough to pay entry for them. Old Town is mostly quiet, a small taste of country living within the borders of the big city, and is a great place to go for a little stroll or to get away from the hectic frenzy of the city.

SEASIDE RIDGE

The other southern district to the west of Low Town is the Seaside Ridge. With the eastern coast of it at a higher elevation, on a rocky cliff featuring a single lighthouse, and the western coast a vast sandy beach, Seaside Ridge is the picturesque brother of Low Town. With sand strewn streets lined with darling Tudor homes and colorful “beach houses”, it’s sometimes jokingly called the “mini Tirulia”. Within Seaside Ridge there are two docks which the Royal Navy call their ports, as well as the official entry way for foreign visitors. It is here that the world famous Benbow Inn, run by Sarah Hawkins, sits. Here you can find the best accommodations and breakfast in all of Auradon. But if the shepherd’s pie and in house brewed ale can’t tempt you, then look no further than a few blocks to the east where you can find the Auradon City location of Tiana’s Place — the restaurant owned by Lady Maldonia herself, serving up the Bayou de Orleans’ most cherished dishes, such as gumbo, jambalaya, po’boys and the best beignets in all the continent, at all hours of the day. Tiana’s Place is considered the crème de la crème of fine dining establishments in the entire country, and has only been open for three years now. Aside from the top notch dining, Seaside Ridge’s biggest boast in the long stretch of untouched, undockable sandy beach. A favorite place to take a stroll in the wind sand, or to dip one’s feet into the cool waters of the Audratic Sea; modest “bathing machines” have been showing up on the beach, giving visitors the chance to dress and take a dip in the somewhat murky waters of the southern shore — without the nudity common in Tirulia Beach. Come here to relax and play some cricket or take in the sun and salty sea air.

CENTRAL AURADON

Central Auradon is, funny enough, not in the center of the city but is still named as the center district. The largest district in all of Auradon City, it is technically the district which houses the royal palace. In Central Auradon there sits two docks which are heavily in use by the Royal Guard, and where foreign dignitaries, such as Imperial China, Agrabah and Kuzcotopia, dock when they are visiting. Here there is a large watch tower run by the Royal Guard, as well as the largest Guard’s Barracks. The latter is often the sight of commoner balls and parties, practically every weekend, which the elite rarely take part in but are known for being the most fun Royal Guardsmen get while on duty in the capitol. A perfect place to go and dance with a sweetheart when royal balls are not scheduled for the upcoming weeks. Aside from the Royal Guard headquarters, Central Auradon is also home to Town Square, a lot mostly in the center of all districts where a large statue of King Adam sits, watching over the citizens of Auradon City with a noble scowl. The statue itself is enchanted, being able to shift between the king’s human and beast forms, and is made of a shimmery almost iridescent stone. It was a gift from the Emperor of China following the incorporation of the city and has sat in town square since 1814, one year after the city’s official opening. Further west of town square lies the grandest cathedral in all of Auradon: Notre Dame, where the royals and nobility hold their grand wedding ceremonies and the majority of Auradon City’s populace attend church. A gorgeous and tall gothic building with large bells which are rung by the bell keeper Quasimodo on the hour and on special holidays / events. There is also a cemetery here, St. Lazarus, full of marble mausoleums where the nobility bury their dead. It is considered a great honor to be laid to rest in Auradon City under the watchful eye of the royal family, and some nobles even prefer to be buried there than back in their homelands.

UPPER DISTRICT

Upper District is ironically a quieter part of Auradon. This statement is ironic only because it is home to Auradon’s Grand Theater House, the largest and most impressive opera house in all the land. Here the soprano Madame De La Grande Bouche preforms regularly, and the greatest composers and royal orchestra call home. It is a highlight of the social season to attend the opera in Upper District and it is during that period in which the nobles are in town that the grandest shows and concerts are had. On the off season, the opera house is a bit quieter but they’re always ready to rev up a performance should any nobles appear in town on the off season. It isn’t cheap to get tickets so it mostly caters to the elite. It is rumored that within the opera house there is also a higher end gentlemen’s establishment, for those noblemen who don’t want to risk sullying their reputations by seeking out the brothel in Low Town, though there is little evidence to this. The singers and actresses of the theater are rather pretty and can easily win the favor of young amorous lords with or without a Madame managing. Aside from the opera house, The Univeristy of Auradon is also found in Upper District. A college (sadly) exclusively for male scholars, it is here where men come to study the law and science, and where the magistrates and lawmakers meet. The University is home to the Hall of Records, a museum on Auradon History, the biggest scholarly library, and a hospital where medical students practice on the ill. It has a gorgeous courtyard with incredible marble statues and is popular for strolls rather than stately visits.

ENCHANTED HILLS

The northernmost district of Auradon is actually one of the oldest parts of the city, and heavily reconstructed. That’s because what is now Enchanted Hills used to be the Imperial City of St. Petersburg. Here there sits the abandoned Catherine Palace, the castle owned by Czar Nicholas and the Romanovs before their assassination in 1788. The palace and surrounding city went to disrepair and was the inspiration for King Adam to convert that entire southern area into the grand capitol Auradon City is today. Catherine Palace was originally suggested for the royal family, but they didn’t want to take up the home of the Czar. Not when rumors persisted that his daughter still lived somewhere. Instead they took the Czar’s country home and made it into Queen Belle’s Chateau, and spent much of 1810-1812 reconstructing Catherine Palace. It is now rebuilt and its maintenance kept up should the Grand Duchess prove to be alive. While it’s a beautiful sight, Catherine Palace isn’t the big draw of Enchanted Hills. It is the park which it is named after, The Enchanted Park, which gives it its reputation as the most beautiful district. This large park brings much needed greenery to the city, miles of labyrinthine gardens, winding paths through weeping willows, lanes with cherry blossom trees lining them, and an enchanted lake where the water is said to have magical properties which can heal from all manners of spellbinding enchantment. It boasts four grand fountains and over 75 marble statues all depicting various legends from Auradon history, as well as a large memorial in commemoration of the Cauldron War. It’s a garden made of fairy magic which preserves its beauty and flora through all seasons, always comfortably warm and sunny even if it’s snowing outside. The perfect place to take a stroll with a prospective spouse. Last of all, Enchanted Hills is home to the Fey Borough, or the neighborhood where the faeries live, much like the Garden District is for the nobles. Faeries from all over, even Pixie Hollow, come to settle here throughout the year to learn from elder faeries and to assist the royal family of Auradon. Their parlors are always open to those good hearted folk in need, and even just for an ear to listen to your troubles. Here they promise that that wish, that dream your heart makes, can truly come true. Just have a little faith and trust, and maybe even some pixie dust, and see it all become reality right before your very eyes!

And that my friends is Auradon City! As the roleplay continues and my vision of Auradon expands, I may continue to add to this to give more and more details on our main setting. Please refer to this page often to catch up on updates and have an understanding of the city, and please use as much of this as you can for reference! Auradon City has a lot to offer setting wise and culturally do have fun with this information and use it for your plotting and threading going forward. If you have questions about specific places mentioned or how to use them in threads, simply post in the #questions section of our discord or DM me directly. I’ll expand upon anything you guys want, this is mostly to give a general idea. You can use the images as reference as well but remember they’re more inspiration and not exactly the rule. Obviously the Royal Palace ISN’T Versailles, but it has a similar vibe. And note that each district has more hotspots than what has already been labeled, I’m just giving you guys a few places to use and offer a broad spectrum of settings within the city. You can be creative as well and talk about alleyways, homes or the kinds of stores and establishments that should exist within a regency or georgian era city that weren’t detailed here. And if you have suggestions for any hot spots — let me know! I will gladly take input and add to the ever growing Auradon of disenchanted!

As always, hit me up with any questions you have! I hope you’re all able to find this post helpful and to use it to further flesh out the universe. ☺️

[aboveallarescuer]

Daenerys Targaryen in A Storm of Swords vs Game of Thrones - Episodes 3.7 & 3.8: The Bear and the Maiden Fair & Second Sons

In this series of posts, I intend to analyze precisely how the show writers downplayed or erased several key aspects of Daenerys Targaryen’s characterization, even when they had the books to help them write her as the compelling, intelligent, compassionate, frugal, open-minded and self-critical character that GRRM created.

I want to make it clear that these posts are not primarily meant to offer a better alternative to what the show writers gave us. I understand that they had many constraints (e.g. other storylines to handle, a limited amount of time to write the scripts, budget, actors who may have asked for a certain number of lines, etc) working against them. However, considering how disrespectful the show’s ending was to Daenerys Targaryen and how the book material that they left out makes it even more ludicrous to think that she will also become a villain in A Song of Ice and Fire, I believe that these reviews are more than warranted. They are meant to dissect everything about Dany’s characterization that was lost in translation, with a lot of book evidence to corroborate my statements.

Since these reviews will dissect scene by scene, I recommend taking a look at this post because I will use its sequence to order Dany’s scenes.

This post is relevant in case you want to know which chapters were adapted in which GoT episodes (however, I didn’t make the list myself, all the information comes from the GoT Wiki, so I can’t guarantee that it’s 100% reliable).

In general, I will call the Dany from the books “Dany” and the Dany from the TV series “show!Dany”.

Episode 3.7, "The Bear and the Maiden Fair", was written by George R. R. Martin himself and is one of the two scripts that he wrote and that show!Dany appears in (the other is episode 1.8, "The Pointy End"). Because the quality of show!Dany's screentime is obviously improved thanks to the influence of her creator, I decided to talk about episodes 3.7 and 3.8 (which was written by David Benioff and D. B. Weiss) in a single post in order to highlight the former's strengths and the latter's weaknesses.

Episode 3.7: The Bear and the Maiden Fair

Scene 6

JORAH: Your Grace. Yunkai. The Yellow City.

BARRISTAN: The Yunkish train bed slaves, not soldiers. We can defeat them.

JORAH: On the field, with ease. But they won't meet us on the field. They have provisions, patience, and strong walls. If they're wise, they'll hide behind those walls and chip away at us, man by man.

DAENERYS: I don't want half my army killed before I've crossed the Narrow Sea.

Dany's initial conflict in the books is different from that of her show counterpart:

“Are those slave soldiers they lead?”

“In large part. But not the equal of Unsullied. Yunkai is known for training bed slaves, not warriors.”

“What say you? Can we defeat this army?”

“Easily,” Ser Jorah said. “But not bloodlessly.” Blood aplenty had soaked into the bricks of Astapor the day that city fell, though little of it belonged to her or hers.

“We might win a battle here, but at such cost we cannot take the city.”

“That is ever a risk, Khaleesi. Astapor was complacent and vulnerable. Yunkai is forewarned.”

Dany considered. The slaver host seemed small compared to her own numbers, but the sellswords were ahorse. She’d ridden too long with Dothraki not to have a healthy respect for what mounted warriors could do to foot. The Unsullied could withstand their charge, but my freedmen will be slaughtered. (ASOS Daenerys IV)

As the quote shows, in the books, Dany's victory against Yunkai is quite likely, but it comes at the expense of the Astapori freedmen's lives, which Dany isn't willing to risk. Unfortunately, as I mentioned before in previous reviews, the Astapori who decided to follow Dany in the books are not introduced in the show, so this conflict can't exist for show!Dany.

Instead, the show focuses on the possibility of the Yunkish refusing to surrender by staying inside the city and letting show!Dany's army starve. I'm not a fan of this change because it's uninspired; it's too much like Dany's initial problem in Meereen:

“...Perhaps we can starve the city out.”

Ser Jorah looked unhappy. “We’ll starve long before they do, Your Grace. There’s no
food here, nor fodder for our mules and horses. I do not like this river water either. Meereen shits into the Skahazadhan but draws its drinking water from deep wells. Already we’ve had reports of sickness in the camps, fever and brownleg and three cases of the bloody flux. There will be more if we remain. The slaves are weak from the march.”

“Freedmen,” Dany corrected. “They are slaves no longer.”

“Slave or free, they are hungry and they’ll soon be sick. The city is better provisioned than we are, and can be resupplied by water. Your three ships are not enough to deny them access to both the river and the sea.” (ASOS Daenerys V)

It seems that this change was made not just because the Astapori freedmen were not included in show!Dany's story, but also because the events of ASOS Daenerys IV are being stretched out for four episodes (from this one until the season finale). This would explain why the show writers ultimately decided to introduce the sellswords in the next episode instead of in this one, which is another departure from the books, where they're introduced right away:

“Those are sellswords on the flanks. Lances and mounted bowmen, with swords and axes for the close work. The Second Sons on the left wing, the Stormcrows to the right. About five hundred men apiece. See the banners?” (ASOS Daenerys IV)

In the books, Yunkai is already prepared to wage war against Dany if it's necessary. The possibility of a siege is never brought up.

In the show, we'll have two scenes with Dany and her counsellors assessing the enemy forces (one in this episode and another in episode 3.8, which I'll discuss below), unlike the books (which only has one). Each is quite similar to one another, with the second more closely (though not entirely, since, again, the Astapori freedmen are nowhere to be seen) resembling the conflict in the books for actually introducing the sellswords.

Also, it's disappointing that we don't get to see onscreen quite a few moments from the books that showcase Dany's intelligence. The first is that she eagerly wants to apply her lessons with Barristan about how to assess her enemy forces, so she goes with Jorah to see them and then makes a reasonable guess about their strength:

Her Dothraki scouts had told her how it was, but Dany wanted to see for herself. Ser Jorah Mormont rode with her through a birchwood forest and up a slanting sandstone ridge. “Near enough,” he warned her at the crest.

Dany reined in her mare and looked across the fields, to where the Yunkish host lay athwart her path. Whitebeard had been teaching her how best to count the numbers of a foe. “Five thousand,” she said after a moment.

“I’d say so.” (ASOS Daenerys IV)

What's also missing from the show is Dany applying the knowledge she acquired from the Dothraki to contextualize the danger that her Astapori freedmen are going to face against the sellswords:

Dany considered. The slaver host seemed small compared to her own numbers, but the sellswords were ahorse. She’d ridden too long with Dothraki not to have a healthy respect for what mounted warriors could do to foot. The Unsullied could withstand their charge, but my freedmen will be slaughtered. (ASOS Daenerys IV)

Finally, unlike in the books, we don't have a scene on HBO displaying that show!Dany learned important lessons with both the Qartheen and the Astapori. Such lessons inform why she's certain that both Yunkai and the sellswords will at least come and listen to her offer:

“But if they do not come—”

“They’ll come. They will be curious to see the dragons and hear what I might have to say, and the clever ones will see it for a chance to gauge my strength.” (ASOS Daenerys IV)

That being said, there is good in this scene too: 

JORAH: We don't need Yunkai, khaleesi. Taking this city will not bring you any closer to Westeros or the Iron Throne.

DAENERYS: How many slaves are there in Yunkai?

JORAH: 200,000, if not more.

DAENERYS: Then we have 200,000 reasons to take the city.

ASOS Daenerys IV doesn't have a scene where Dany explicitly states that she is in Yunkai because she wants to free the slaves (though her thoughts and actions speak for themselves, making it obvious that she is). The show, on the other hand, makes that fact loud and clear for anyone to grasp it. Dany's selflessness is probably the most important aspect of her characterization, so it's no wonder that this scene (which draws attention to it) was written by GRRM himself. (Benioff, in contrast, focuses on Dany's supposed "Littlefinger style ambition" or on her "divine mission", but never on her moral principles)

*

Before I talk about this show scene in relation to the books, I want to reiterate that yes, it is racist at its core; it employs North African extras as slaves who will be freed by a character played by a British actress, after all. There's no excuse for this and I don't blame any person of color who dislikes show!Dany for this.

That being said, as @yendany​ already laid out in this post, the slaves of the books are of multiple ethnicities; they range from "pale Qartheen" to "ebon-faced Summer Islanders". This stems from the fact that GRRM never meant for the slavery that Dany is battling against to be race-based; he was, instead, inspired by the slavery in the ancient world. Parallels between Dany's storyline and US slavery, on the other hand, are non-racial in nature. Furthermore, it's crucial to notice that Dany is the only major character of ASOIAF interacting with people of color and caring about their struggles in the first place.

All of this is to say that yes, there is racism in this scene (and the books aren't exempt from it), but this is the fault of the show's production. Neither show!Dany nor Dany are white saviors because of it and their storylines still have thematic significance despite GRRM's and D&D's shortcomings. 

In the books, this is not the mode of transportation that the Yunkish envoy chooses to get to Dany:

The envoys from Yunkai arrived as the sun was going down; fifty men on magnificent black horses and one on a great white camel. Their helms were twice as tall as their heads, so as not to crush the bizarre twists and towers and shapes of their oiled hair beneath. They dyed their linen skirts and tunics a deep yellow, and sewed copper disks to their cloaks.

The man on the white camel named himself Grazdan mo Eraz. (ASOS Daenerys IV)

That being said, I would argue that this was a good change because it illustrates the oppression of the Yunkish slaves (who, let's remember, come from lots of different societies and cultures in the books) and reinforces the necessity of show!Dany's revolution.

Meereenese seldom rode within their city walls. They preferred palanquins, litters, and sedan chairs, borne upon the shoulders of their slaves. "Horses befoul the streets," one man of Zakh had told her, "slaves do not." Dany had freed the slaves, yet palanquins, litters, and sedan chairs still choked the streets as before, and none of them floated magically through the air. (ADWD Daenerys VII)

~

The Brazen Beasts did as they were bid. Dany watched them at their work. “Those bearers were slaves before I came. I made them free. Yet that palanquin is no lighter.”

“True,” said Hizdahr, “but those men are paid to bear its weight now. Before you came, that man who fell would have an overseer standing over him, stripping the skin off his back with a whip. Instead he is being given aid.” (ADWD Daenerys IX)

Considering that the palanquins (along with the whip and the tokar) were used to call attention to the mistreatment and the oppression of the unprivileged in the books, it's not surprising that they were also added in the show in an episode written by GRRM to convey the same point.

*

MISSANDEI: Now comes the noble Razdal mo Eraz of that ancient and honorable house, master of men and speaker to savages, to offer terms of peace. Noble lord, you are in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains, and Mother of Dragons.

Again, thanks to GRRM's influence, Dany's and the envoy's titles are both announced as a formality, not as comic relief (at best) or as a sign of Dany's arrogance (at worst) like, for example, in her first scene with Jon Snow in season seven.

Also, this is not a key detail, but the Yunkish envoy's name was changed from Grazdan mo Eraz in the books to Razdal mo Eraz in the show. I don't see any reason why GRRM would change his name, which makes me question to which extent the show writers altered certain parts of GRRM's script to their convenience (and they certainly did, as I will show below).

*

RAZDAL: Ancient and glorious is Yunkai. Our empire was old before dragons stirred in old Valyria. Many an army has broken against our walls. You shall find no easy conquest here, khaleesi.

In the books, the Yunkish envoy speaks Valyrian like the Astapori did:

“Missandei, what language will these Yunkai’i speak, Valyrian?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” the child said. “A different dialect than Astapor’s, yet close enough to understand. The slavers name themselves the Wise Masters.” (ASOS Daenerys IV)

And yet, we are seeing the actors talk to each other in English, which is used in the show to indicate that the characters are speaking the Common Tongue. On its own, this is a superfluous change. Still, it's irritating that the show writers allow show!Dany and the Yunkish envoy talk to each other in English here and then will later prevent her from speaking to the freedmen in the same language (which she does in the books, because they also speak Valyrian) at court in episode 4.6. The implications that she's too removed from reality (and her subjects, as seasons five and six will imply), that she is actually quite similar to a master and that she should abide to the Meereenese traditions are all distasteful and completely out of line with what happens in the books. Unfortunately, it could be argued that the seeds of these negative implications are in this episode (though they only become negative in retrospect because of later events and not because of GRRM's writing).

*

Unsurprisingly, the Yunkish envoy's words are almost copied word by word from the books:

RAZDAL: Ancient and glorious is Yunkai. Our empire was old before dragons stirred in old Valyria. Many an army has broken against our walls. You shall find no easy conquest here, khaleesi.

~

“Ancient and glorious is Yunkai, the queen of cities,” he said when Dany welcomed him to her tent. “Our walls are strong, our nobles proud and fierce, our common folk without fear. Ours is the blood of ancient Ghis, whose empire was old when Valyria was yet a squalling child. You were wise to sit and speak, Khaleesi. You shall find no easy conquest here.”

Small changes are made in show!Dany's response to his statement, however:

DAENERYS: Good. My Unsullied need practice. I was told to blood them early.

~

“Good. My Unsullied will relish a bit of a fight.” She looked to Grey Worm, who nodded. (ASOS Daenerys IV)

In the books, this is a subtle but affectionate moment between Dany and Grey Worm. Dany is alluding to Grey Worm having previously told her that the Unsullied "thirst[ed] for blood" and that he hoped to show her that "the Unsullied learn the way of the three spears" (in stark contrast to the Yunkish bed slaves).

In the show, while the context surrounding show!Dany's mention of the Unsullied was changed from the books, I would argue that the scene is no less effective for it. It displays show!Dany's intelligence by having her recall Kraznys's advice and be intent on following it.

*

In both versions, the Yunkish envoy attempts to bribe Dany into leaving the city:

“And yet, why should we speak thus harshly to one another? It is true that you committed savageries in Astapor, but we Yunkai’i are a most forgiving people. Your quarrel is not with us, Your Grace. Why squander your strength against our mighty walls when you will need every man to regain your father’s throne in far Westeros? Yunkai wishes you only well in that endeavor. And to prove the truth of that, I have brought you a gift.” He clapped his hands, and two of his escort came forward bearing a heavy cedar chest bound in bronze and gold. They set it at her feet. “Fifty thousand golden marks,” Grazdan said smoothly. “Yours, as a gesture of friendship from the Wise Masters of Yunkai. Gold given freely is better than plunder bought with blood, surely? So I say to you, Daenerys Targaryen, take this chest, and go.”

Dany pushed open the lid of the chest with a small slippered foot. It was full of gold coins, just as the envoy said. She grabbed a handful and let them run through her fingers. They shone brightly as they tumbled and fell; new minted, most of them, stamped with a stepped pyramid on one face and the harpy of Ghis on the other. (ASOS Daenerys IV)

~

RAZDAL: If blood is your desire, blood shall flow. But why? 'Tis true you have committed savageries in Astapor. But the Yunkai are a forgiving and generous people. The wise masters of Yunkai have sent a gift for the silver queen. There is far more than this awaiting you on the deck of your ship.

DAENERYS: My ship?

RAZDAL: Yes, khaleesi. As I said, we are a generous people. You shall have as many ships as you require.

DAENERYS: And what do you ask in return?

RAZDAL: All we ask is that you make use of these ships. Sail them back to Westeros where you belong and leave us to conduct our affairs in peace.

In the show, the envoy offers her even more rewards than he had in the books; while the Dany of the books was offered "fifty thousand golden marks", show!Dany was offered an unspecified amount of gold that fills the deck of a ship and "as many ships as [she] require[s]".

In both versions, Dany declines the offer. Show!Dany is explicitly shown refusing it because of her moral duty towards the slaves (who, let's remember, come from lots of different societies and cultures in the books), which is a callback to episode 3.3:

Even if we don't have show!Dany attempting to spare the Astapori freedmen's lives like she does in the books, GRRM still hammers home that her ultimate goal is selfless - to free the Yunkish slaves and end slavery in the region.

*

Dany's "gift" to the Yunkish envoy was altered from book to show, but her sole request was largely kept the same:  

DAENERYS: I have a gift for you as well. Your life.

RAZDAL: My life?

DAENERYS: And the lives of your wise masters. But I also want something in return. You will release every slave in Yunkai. Every man, woman, and child shall be given as much food, clothing, and property as they can carry as payment for their years of servitude. Reject this gift, and I shall show you no mercy.

~

“I have a gift for you as well.” She slammed the chest shut. “Three days. On the morning of the third day, send out your slaves. All of them. Every man, woman, and child shall be given a weapon, and as much food, clothing, coin, and goods as he or she can carry. These they shall be allowed to choose freely from among their masters’ possessions, as payment for their years of servitude. When all the slaves have departed, you will open your gates and allow my Unsullied to enter and search your city, to make certain none remain in bondage. If you do this, Yunkai will not be burned or plundered, and none of your people shall be molested. The Wise Masters will have the peace they desire, and will have proved themselves wise indeed. What say you?” (ASOS Daenerys IV)

I would say that these scenes have the same spirit, though there are some differences between them as well.

In the books, Dany tells the envoy that she'll give him three days to free the slaves only to deceive the Yunkish and attack them when they least expect it. This, as I've argued before, is no proof of Dany's "tyranny", but rather her prioritization of the freedmen's lives (who would have been slaughtered against mounted warriors if not in a surprise attack) over the nobility's, which is an attitude that she should have maintained throughout the rest of ASOS and the entirety of ADWD.

On HBO, show!Dany will not attack Yunkai in the same night, so having her give the master three days to decide what to do wouldn't have the same significance. One could argue that show!Dany is being more explicitly threatening than Dany ("Reject this gift, and I shall show you no mercy") during her interaction with the envoy, but this line is certainly not out of character for Dany, who tells Barristan that "Yunkai will have war" in the same chapter where her talk with Grazdan takes place.

There are key things in common between the books' depiction of the scene versus the show's as well: Dany promises that "Yunkai will not be burned or plundered, and none of your people shall be molested"; show!Dany's gift is the envoy's life "and the lives of [his] wise masters". Dany asks for as much "food, clothing, coin and goods" as the former slaves can carry "for their years of servitude" after three days; show!Dany asks for "every man, woman and child" to "be given as much food, clothing and property as they can carry for their years of servitude". These show lines exhibit that, ultimately, show!Dany is also primarily focused on freeing the slaves and on attempting to be as conciliatory as possible.

*

One small detail is altered from books to show regarding the envoy's answer to Dany's offer:

RAZDAL: You are mad. We are not Astapor or Qarth.

~

“I say, you are mad.” (ASOS Daenerys IV)

In both versions, the envoy calls Dany mad, but Qarth is never brought up as an example of Dany's "treacherous" nature, only Astapor:

“You took Astapor by treachery, but Yunkai shall not fall so easily.” (ASOS Daenerys IV)

~

“And yet, why should we speak thus harshly to one another? It is true that you committed savageries in Astapor, but we Yunkai’i are a most forgiving people.[”] (ASOS Daenerys IV)

This addition was most likely made because, on HBO, show!Dany locked show!Xaro and show!Doreah inside the former's vault to die. I suppose that it makes sense for the show writers to pay attention to their own continuity, though that makes me question why Kraznys and the other Astapori slavers weren't also aware that show!Dany was not (in their perspective) trustworthy by the time she arrived to negotiate with them. It wasn't convenient to pay attention to the continuity in the beginning of season three, I guess. I also doubt that GRRM wrote this bit of his own volition (unless he was told to do so).

*

Now we get to what some people tend to see as the most controversial parts of Dany's exchange with the envoy. On HBO, it's show!Dany's decision to take the envoy's gold; in the books, it's Dany's burning of the envoy's tokar:

RAZDAL: You are mad. We are not Astapor or Qarth. We are Yunkai and we have powerful friends. Friends who would take great pleasure in destroying you. Those who survive, we shall enslave once more. Perhaps we'll make a slave of you as well.

REZNAK: You swore me safe conduct.

DAENERYS: I did, but my dragons made no promises. And you threatened their mother.

~

“I say, you are mad.”

“Am I?” Dany shrugged, and said, “Dracarys.”

The dragons answered. Rhaegal hissed and smoked, Viserion snapped, and Drogon spat swirling red-black flame. It touched the drape of Grazdan’s tokar, and the silk caught in half a heartbeat. Golden marks spilled across the carpets as the envoy stumbled over the chest, shouting curses and beating at his arm until Whitebeard flung a flagon of water over him to douse the flames. “You swore I should have safe conduct!” the Yunkish envoy wailed.

“Do all the Yunkai’i whine so over a singed tokar? I shall buy you a new one ... if you deliver up your slaves within three days. Elsewise, Drogon shall give you a warmer kiss.” (ASOS Daenerys IV)

People who think that the Dany of the books is more morally grey than show!Dany tend to use the event above as an example that supposedly "proves" their point, since Dany's burning of the envoy's tokar in the books doesn't happen in the show. Not only this conveniently ignores that the show cut so many of Dany's moments of compassion and self-deprecation and that it gave show!Dany many scenes that complicate her character's morality more than any from the books (e.g. her decision to feed one master to her two dragons arbitrarily), it also overlooks the fact that Dany uses her dragons to intimidate the envoy (rather than to punish him in any way). By making sure that he takes her seriously, Dany's threat of a "warmer kiss" becomes much more alarming, which is only necessary in a world where men think that it's normal to underestimate her and dismiss her as a "whore". More importantly, it must be remembered that Dany's threat to the envoy (who was never actually hurt) was made because she wants to free the slaves of Yunkai. All in all, considering a) the level of damage she caused (none), b) her selfless intentions and c) that we're talking about a book series/TV show full of rapists and murderers from a pseudomedieval world, this is not a morally grey action.

It must be noted, however, that GRRM himself observed that show!Dany's burning of the envoy's tokar was a moment cut from his original script and that he wishes that it had been included. I suppose I can understand why the author is frustrated by this particular change, since this has ramifications later when Yunkai remembers what happened to Grazdan and then refuses to accept any peace agreement until Dany marries another slaver.

Still, I think that the exclusion of this moment is compensated by this show change:

RAZDAL: Take the gold.

DAENERYS: My gold. You gave it to me, remember? And I shall put it to good use. You'd be wise to do the same with my gift to you. Now get out.

~

“You’ve soiled yourself. Take your gold and go, and see that the Wise Masters hear my message.” (ASOS Daenerys IV)

In the books, Dany doesn't take the envoy's gold. In the show, however, she does.

Like with Dany's burning of the envoy's tokar, show!Dany's decision to take his gold is not really a morally grey action because it's motivated by (and will finance) her anti-slavery campaign.

Like with Dany's burning of the envoy's tokar, this decision leads many fans to judge show!Dany much more harshly than they should, as this stupid gifset shows. @yendany​ has already exhaustively laid out why neither Dany nor show!Dany (whose actions, albeit often undermined in comparison to her book counterpart, are still in keeping with Dany's motivations) are imperialists, so check out her metas about this issue.

By comparing these two scenes, my intent is to argue that the omission of Dany's burning of the envoy's tokar isn't that detrimental in the grand scheme of things. Its purpose was not to make Dany more morally grey as some people think, it was meant to complicate the negotiations of a peace agreement between Dany and Yunkai (which never occurs in the show). If they wanted something to complicate the peace agreement (which, again, was never added into season five), they could have brought up show!Dany taking Razdal's gold (which, while also not a morally grey action, would certainly piss the Yunkish slavers off), but they would have to have cared about adapting Dany's ADWD storyline well to think about that.

*

BARRISTAN: The Yunkish are a proud people. They will not bend.

DAENERYS: And what happens to things that don't bend?

This response from show!Dany portrays her as more unyielding than the books do. This is not necessarily a bad thing (and it's not as if Dany didn't struggle with accepting the slavers' actions, opinions and customs in the books as well), but it goes against how the books have Dany still developing her political values along the way based on her experiences. Also, while this original line is fine on its own, in light of the show's ending, it may have helped to portray show!Dany as inflexible enough to become a Well-Intentioned Extremist in the eyes of the show writers and some fans (we know, however, that this ending is OOC for show!Dany as well and that it carries many, many horrible implications).

*

DAENERYS: He said he had powerful friends. Who was he talking about?

JORAH: I don't know.

DAENERYS: Find out.

Again, is this from GRRM or the show writers? In the books, as I already said, Dany knows who the Yunkish's "powerful friends" are right away:

“Those are sellswords on the flanks. Lances and mounted bowmen, with swords and axes for the close work. The Second Sons on the left wing, the Stormcrows to the right. About five hundred men apiece. See the banners?” (ASOS Daenerys IV)

This was changed because, again, they want to make the events of ASOS Daenerys IV last for multiple episodes. Still, I wonder if GRRM cared enough to respect the show's continuity or if the show writers made changes to what he wrote.

Episode 3.8: Second Sons

We get back to D&D's writing of show!Dany with "Second Sons".

Scene 7

Remember when I said that we would get two scenes of Dany and her advisors assessing the enemy forces in the show (this only happens once in the books)? Well, we have reached the second one.

BARRISTAN:  Men who fight for gold have neither honour nor loyalty. They cannot be trusted.

JORAH: They can be trusted to kill you if they’re well paid. The Yunkish are paying them well.

Show!Barristan's and show!Jorah's counsels above are show only.

It's not out of character for Barristan to distrust sellswords and men who don't behave in a way that is socially perceived as honorable in general. The problem is that the show writers have him express his feelings only for show!Jorah to question and refute them without show!Barristan being allowed to give any response, which undermines the latter (like they did in episodes 3.3 and 3.5 as well) in the eyes of the audience in favor of show!Jorah's perspective.

In the books, both Jorah and Barristan are shown distrusting sellswords, especially Mero:

But when Mero was gone, Arstan Whitebeard said, “That one has an evil reputation, even in Westeros. Do not be misled by his manner, Your Grace. He will drink three toasts to your health tonight, and rape you on the morrow.”

“The old man’s right for once,” Ser Jorah said. “The Second Sons are an old company, and not without valor, but under Mero they’ve turned near as bad as the Brave Companions. The man is as dangerous to his employers as to his foes. That’s why you find him out here. None of the Free Cities will hire him any longer.” (ASOS Daenerys IV)

What's irritating about this change in show!Jorah's character is that Jorah's attempts to isolate Dany from other men are a key aspect of their relationship in the books. Having show!Jorah trust the sellswords if they're well-paid overlooks this side of their dynamic and portrays him as reasonable rather than often motivated by jealousy like he is in the books. It also helps to popularize stupid takes like this one.

I would also like to call attention to Dany's response to their advice in the books:

“It is not his reputation that I want, it’s his five hundred horse.[”] (ASOS Daenerys IV)

As I said before, I find it interesting that Dany isn't really concerned about the sellswords' lack of morals. Moments like this and the one later in ADWD Daenerys VIII when she finds that being “dishonorable and greedy” can be advantageous if she wants the sellswords to turn to her side show that Dany is actually quite down-to-earth and flexible and doesn’t suffer from moral righteousness like the show writers seem to think.

Show!Dany expresses a similar view by thinking that the Second Sons might turn to her side because she has a larger strength (more on that below). That being said, she is mostly shown listening and making questions:

DAENERYS: You know these men?

~

DAENERYS: Is he more titan or bastard?

~

DAENERYS: How many?

~

DAENERYS: Enough to make a difference?

The books don't show Dany being as dependent on her advisors' feedback as show!Dany is. I don't want to be overly judgmental of show!Dany, but this is something that irks me because Bryan Cogman has said in an interview that he thinks that Dany relies too much on Jorah to obtain information about Essosi culture. It's not untrue that he gives her knowledge that she doesn't have, but this statement ignores the fact that Dany applies that knowledge and has her own (because she's lived in Essos for longer than Jorah) and that she has her own opinions and makes many decisions on her own as well. The show often overlooks these nuances because the writers are intent on making her more ignorant and ineffective than in the books to "compensate" for her strengths and achievements (more on this later).

*

JORAH: Only by the broken swords on their banners. They’re called the Second Sons. A company led by a Braavosi named Mero, the Titan’s Bastard.

DAENERYS: Is he more titan or bastard?

JORAH: He’s a dangerous man, Khaleesi. They all are.

A rare occasion where show!Dany is allowed to have a sense of humor (which her book counterpart displays much more often). What's a shame is that the show writers only know how to write offensive jokes for her (see also this one) and for most of the other characters in general.

I also dislike the implication that show!Dany's joke indicates that she is underestimating the threat that the Second Sons pose. It's certainly not out of character for Jorah to be condescending towards Dany, but I don't think that's how the show writers intended his response to come across; as I've talked about exhaustively by now, the show writers have a much more positive view of Jorah than GRRM does.

*

Another change is that the show writers increased the size of the Second Sons. In the books, the Stormcrows (which was condensed into the Second Sons in the show) have five hundred men and the Second Sons five hundred as well, making them one thousand rather than two thousand men:

“Those are sellswords on the flanks. Lances and mounted bowmen, with swords and axes for the close work. The Second Sons on the left wing, the Stormcrows to the right. About five hundred men apiece.[”]

~

DAENERYS: How many?

BARRISTAN: Two thousand, Your Grace. Armoured and mounted.

As I will show later, this goes in line with the show writers' tendency to undermine Dany against the sellswords in comparison to the books. It also goes in line with how they previously undermined the value of show!Dany's possessions compared to what she has in the books to undermine to extent of her sacrifice.

*

DAENERYS: How many?

BARRISTAN: Two thousand, Your Grace. Armoured and mounted.

DAENERYS: Enough to make a difference? (after Barristan nods "yes") It’s hard to collect wages from a corpse. I’m sure the sellswords prefer to fight for the winning side.

JORAH: I imagine you’re right.

DAENERYS: I’d like to talk to the Titan’s Bastard about winning.

Like in the books, show!Dany is also aware that her military strength vastly surpasses that of the Yunkish's and that this might persuade the sellswords to turn to her side.

My gripe with the show (which I'll talk about below) is that it'll challenge the fact that show!Dany would indeed triumph in a battle against Yunkai more than the books ever did. There, the conflict for Dany was not about whether she would win or not (she certainly would), but rather that winning would have meant allowing more freedmen to die as collateral damage than she's willing to do. Once again, the show writers are going to miss the point, which makes show!Dany seem less effective than her book counterpart.

*

DAENERYS: I’d like to talk to the Titan’s Bastard about winning.

BARRISTAN: He may not agree to meet.

DAENERYS: He will. A man who fights for gold can’t afford to lose to a girl.

In the books, Jorah is the one who questions if the sellswords will meet with Dany:

“The slavers like to talk,” she said. “Send word that I will hear them this evening in my tent. And invite the captains of the sellsword companies to call on me as well. But not together. The Stormcrows at midday, the Second Sons two hours later.”

“As you wish,” Ser Jorah said. “But if they do not come—” (ASOS Daenerys IV)

Which is in line with his tendency to question her authority (though, to be fair, this is one of the least offensive examples). Meanwhile, Barristan is the one who respects Dany as his liege.

Dany's answer to her advisor is also different:

“They’ll come. They will be curious to see the dragons and hear what I might have to say, and the clever ones will see it for a chance to gauge my strength.” She wheeled her silver mare about. “I’ll await them in my pavilion.” (ASOS Daenerys IV)

As I had already mentioned in my review of episode 3.7, this moment indicates that Dany learned important lessons with both the Qartheen and the Astapori, which is why she is sure that they will agree to meet with her.

On HBO, show!Dany brings up the fact that sellswords "can't afford to lose to a girl", which is true, but why would that be a reason for them to agree to meet with her? Isn't it more likely that, because she is a girl and, therefore, not perceived as a threat, they don't even bother going to meet with her because they (think they) know that she will lose? I don't really understand her point, which seems more like a typical moment of faux empowerment from this show.

*

BARRISTAN: Your Grace, allow me to present the captains of the Second Sons, Mero of Braavos, Prendahl na Ghezn, and, um…

DAARIO: Daario Naharis.

Much has been said about how none of the two show versions of Daario resemble his book counterpart in physical appearance (check out his description in the books here), so I'm only making a brief acknowledgement of that (admittedly radical) change in this review and leaving it at that. It's not really relevant to what I want to focus on (i.e., the changes in Dany's characterization and storyline from book to show) and I dislike how some people keep overfocusing on his looks to point out that Dany supposedly has a ~bad taste~ in men. It's much more important to acknowledge that Daario (both versions) gives Dany the chance to have sexual autonomy for the first time in her life.

*

MERO: You are the Mother of Dragons? I swear I fucked you once in a pleasure house in Lys. JORAH: Mind your tongue.

In the books, it's not Jorah who answers this asshole, it's Dany herself:

“I believe I fucked your twin sister in a pleasure house back home. Or was it you?”

“I think not. I would remember a man of such magnificence, I have no doubt.”
 (ASOS Daenerys IV)

His next insult is also adapted word by word from the books, which hints at the show writers' priorities:

MERO: You’ll all be slaves after the battle, unless I save you. Take your clothes off and come and sit on Mero’s lap, and I may give you my Second Sons.

DAENERYS: Give me your Second Sons and I may not have you gelded.

~

“What say you take those clothes off and come sit on my lap? If you please me, I might bring the Second Sons over to your side.”

“If you bring the Second Sons over to my side, I might not have you gelded.” (ASOS Daenerys IV)

Heck, the amount of profanity in the books is already problematic and the show makes it worse by adding even more:

MERO: Why? I didn’t mind hers. She licked my ass like she was born to do it.

~

MERO: Show me your cunt. I want to see if it’s worth fighting for.

~

MERO: After the battle, maybe we’ll all share you. I’ll come looking for you when this is over.

And that's not even considering that the sellswords get one scene for themselves in this episode (more on that later), ugh.

To top this all off, many of Dany's excellent comebacks to the sellswords' remarks in the books are erased in the show:

“Woman?” She chuckled. “Is that meant to insult me? I would return the slap, if I took you for a man.” Dany met his stare. “I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the Unburnt, Mother of Dragons, khaleesi to Drogo’s riders, and queen of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros.”

~

“No need. After my eunuchs cut it off, I can examine it at my leisure.”

~

“So it is from you they get their courage?” Dany turned to Ser Jorah. “When the battle is joined, kill this one first.”

The last remark is included, but is also decontextualized in a way that prevents it from displaying Dany's competence like it does in the books. I'll get to it later.

*

DAENERYS: Give me your Second Sons and I may not have you gelded. Ser Barristan, how many men fight for the Second Sons?

BARRISTAN: Under two thousand, Your Grace.

DAENERYS: We have more, don’t we?

BARRISTAN: Ten thousand, Unsullied.

DAENERYS: I’m only a young girl, new to the ways of war, but perhaps a seasoned captain like yourself can explain to me how you propose to defeat us.

DAARIO: I hope the old man is better with a sword than he is with a lie. You have eight thousand Unsullied.

Like in the books, Dany inflates her number of Unsullied:

“Five hundred of your Stormcrows against ten thousand of my Unsullied,” said Dany. “I am only a young girl and do not understand the ways of war, yet these odds seem poor to me.” (ASOS Daenerys IV)

~

“It is true that I am only a young girl, and do not know the ways of war. Explain to me how you propose to defeat ten thousand Unsullied with your five hundred. Innocent as I am, these odds seem poor to me.” (ASOS Daenerys IV)

However, the show writers have show!Daario find out that show!Dany was lying about her military strength when this never happens in the books. Indeed, they seem hellbent on undermining show!Dany, since they even decreased her actual number of soldiers from eight thousand and six hundred in the books to eight thousand in the show.

This change heavily implies to me that the show writers believe that show!Dany is indeed "only a young girl, new to the ways of war" and that they want the audience to perceive her as one. (see also David Benioff saying that show!Dany goes "back to being a really frightened little girl" when her dragons are stolen in season two or Bryan Cogman's comment on her supposed ignorance of Essosi culture)

And this is just so wrong because this is the opposite of what GRRM is doing in the books.

As I already analyzed in this meta, in the books, Dany is the one who correctly guesses the enemy's military strength (yes, she is the one who gets to do that in the books, not Daario). Dany is the one who is shown applying her knowledge of the Dothraki forces to understand (on her own) that her freedmen are vulnerable against the sellswords. Dany is the one who applies her historical knowledge of the Second Sons to intimidate Mero. Dany is the one who gets to outline the tactical plan to take Yunkai (which the show writers will frustratingly have show!Daario concoct in the next episode). Dany is the one who stayed in the room and listened as her military commanders worked out the details to implement her plan. The latter case is particularly noticeable because GRRM cared to show Dany exposing her plan onpage, but he didn't care to write about how her advisors fleshed it out: that's because he prioritizes the development of his female lead character over his supporting male characters'. Despite certain flaws in his writing, GRRM goes out of his way to portray Dany as more than just a "young girl, new to the ways of war". It's a shame that the show writers can't do the same with her show counterpart.

The thing with Dany (both versions) is that she is a power fantasy in so many ways; she is the female protagonist of ASOIAF, she is genuinely kind and selfless, she is mother to three dragons and to thousands of people, she is a dragonrider and will become an action heroine, she is the only monarch with a claim to the Iron Throne who gets her own POV chapters, she is from a family renowned for their godlike beauty, she is a messianic hero, she fulfills so many prophecies, she has so many titles (and all of them were hard-won), she is the Fire of the song of ice and fire...

To many fans (including the show writers), she just can't be that big of a deal! There must be something wrong with her! If she is holding so much power, there must also be the risk of her becoming a tyrant. If she is a successful conqueror, she must also be ignorant (sometimes she is, sometimes she isn't, like a normal person) and arrogant (she isn't) and not think far enough ahead (she does). If she is a revolutionary who gets to enact her idealism (and deal with the negative results of her mistakes) onpage, she can't be the embodiment of hope for the future at the same time.

What I'm saying is that the show writers' tendency to undermine Dany's positive qualities and overstate her flaws (or create new ones or judge her by unfair double standards) mirror the ASOIAF fandom's and that the underlying assumption behind these attempts (i.e. that Dany can't be as great as she seems to be) is misogynistic at its core.

*

PRENDAHL: Our contract is our bond. If we break our bond, no one will hire the Second Sons again.

This is not a very important change in the grand scheme of things, but, in the books, Mero is the one who says something along those lines:

“You are worth fighting for, it is true,” the Braavosi said, “and I would gladly let you kiss my sword, if I were free. But I have taken Yunkai’s coin and pledged my holy word.” (ASOS Daenerys IV)

Prendahl, on the other hand, brings up that the Stormcrows (which is his company in the books) has the support of Yunkish forces and predictably dismisses Dany as a "whore" in order to explain why he won't join her side:

“The Stormcrows do not stand alone [...] We fight beside the stalwart men of Yunkai.” (ASOS Daenerys IV)

~

“What you are,” said Prendahl na Ghezn, “is a horselord’s whore. When we break you, I will breed you to my stallion.” (ASOS Daenerys IV)

His anger at Dany stems from both his misogyny and the fact that Dany's sack of Astapor led to the deaths of some of his relatives:

“That Prendahl is Ghiscari by blood. Likely he had kin in Astapor.” (ASOS Daenerys IV)

While these changes are not the most significant ones, it's noteworthy that Prendahl only appears in one scene seen through Dany's perspective in the books and receives more detailed motivations than in the show, where he gets a scene of his own (more on that later).

*

DAARIO: You have no ships. You have no siege weapons. You have no cavalry.

DAENERYS: A fortnight ago, I had no army. A year ago, I had no dragons.  

While I like that show!Dany is at least allowed to offer a response to show!Daario's remark, this wasn't supposed to have happened in the first place. Neither Daario nor any of the men that Dany interacts with are shown questioning her in this way in the books. It's another infuriating attempt to undermine show!Dany. Moreover, she is the one who is shown to be conscious of her own limitations in the books, not Daario:

Dany considered. The slaver host seemed small compared to her own numbers, but the sellswords were ahorse. She’d ridden too long with Dothraki not to have a healthy respect for what mounted warriors could do to foot. (ASOS Daenerys IV)

Why was this changed? I'm not sure. Because the show writers are deliberately trying to make show!Dany look worse than her book counterpart? Because they are unaware of the sexism underlying their writing choices? Because this makes show!Daario seem "more interesting" in his introduction (to the detriment of show!Dany's characterization)? All of these reasons or something else entirely?

Also, while I enjoy show!Dany's assertion on its own, I also know that it's probably informed by Benioff's false belief that Dany "feels like she has this almost divine mission and nothing is gonna prevent her from achieving it". The Dany of the books is neither prophecy-driven nor aware of her heroic destiny and, while it wouldn't be a problem if she were, it is a problem in the show because its writers constantly undermine, look down upon and villainize her character for her ambition, her drive and her self-awareness.

*

MERO: Show me your cunt. I want to see if it’s worth fighting for.

GREY WORM: My Queen, shall I slice out his tongue for you?

DAENERYS: These men are our guests.

In the books, as I've already mentioned in my review of episode 3.7 above, Grey Worm and Dany's brief interaction is different. I like how their show interaction displays his protectiveness of her, though it was unnecessary to add more sexual harassment to do so. Also, in the books, Jorah is the one outraged at Mero's treatment of Dany, though not primarily because she doesn't deserve to be treated like this, but rather because he wants to keep her to himself:

“I will like the taste of your tongue, I think.”

She could sense Ser Jorah’s anger. My black bear does not like this talk of kissing. (ASOS Daenerys IV)

*

DAENERYS: You seem to be enjoying my wine. Perhaps you’d like a flagon to help you ponder.

MERO: Only a flagon? And what are my brothers in arms to drink?

DAENERYS: A barrel, then.

MERO: Good. The Titan’s Bastard does not drink alone. In the Second Sons, we share everything.

In the books, Dany gives Mero a wagon of wine too, but there is a strategic reason behind why she does so - it makes them easier targets to attack at night:

“An hour past midnight should be time enough.”

“Yes, Khaleesi,” said Rakharo. “Time for what?”


“To mount our attack.”


Ser Jorah Mormont scowled. “You told the sellswords—”

“—that I wanted their answers on the morrow. I made no promises about tonight. The Stormcrows will be arguing about my offer. The Second Sons will be drunk on the wine I gave Mero. And the Yunkai’i believe they have three days. We will take them under cover of this darkness.” (ASOS Daenerys IV)

In the show, there's no purpose behind her favor, which is ultimately just what it seems to be. Unfortunately, this goes in line with the show writers' tendency to diminish Dany's skills and agency, which I've already criticized above.

*

MERO: In the Second Sons, we share everything. After the battle, maybe we’ll all share you. I’ll come looking for you when this is over. DAENERYS: Ser Barristan, if it comes to battle, kill that one first. BARRISTAN: Gladly, Your Grace.

I've said above that Dany's order to kill Mero first in battle was decontextualized from the books to the show in a way that prevents it from showcasing her competence. Here's why:

“The Second Sons have faced worse odds and run. At Qohor, when the Three Thousand made their stand. Or do you deny it?”

“That was many and more years ago, before the Second Sons were led by the Titan’s Bastard.”

“So it is from you they get their courage?” Dany turned to Ser Jorah. “When the battle is joined, kill this one first.”

The exile knight smiled. “Gladly, Your Grace.” (ASOS Daenerys IV)

As we can see from the quote, in the books, Dany orders Jorah to kill Mero first in battle to Mero's face in response to his poor attempt of self-aggrandizement. By doing so, she aptly manages to undermine him, which makes this a noteworthy display of her rhetoric skills and her self-composure.

On HBO, show!Dany tells show!Barristan (instead of Jorah) to kill Mero first as an emotional response to him slapping show!Missandei's butt. This change is both gratuitous (since it's more harassment that was never in the books to begin with) and superfluous (since we already knew that show!Dany has admirable moral principles, but we didn't get to know more about her capabilities like we do in the books).

Scene 8

This scene is pointless (for being about minor characters who were never meant to have scenes of their own and taking up time that could have been invested on show!Dany's development and storyline), redundant (for not telling us anything about them that we didn't already know) and offensive (for giving us more unnecessary profanity and female sexualization).

First, the scene doesn't even spend that much time on these commanders' decision-making, it's mostly about being gratuitous for its own sake:

MERO: She won’t talk so much when she’s choking on my cock. DAARIO: Eight thousand Unsullied stand between her and your cock. MERO: My cock will find a way. Tell him. Is there any place that my cock can’t reach? DAARIO: She’ll tell me whatever you pay her to tell me.

What does this say about Mero other than the fact that he's a misogynistic prick (which was already abundantly clear)? Why are we getting a scene featuring him that isn't seen through show!Dany's eyes?

PRENDAHL: That dragon bitch. She talks too much. DAARIO: You talk too much.

Like I said above, the show gives us more time with Prendahl and still manages to give him less detailed motivations than in the books (where he's not just driven by misogyny, but also by resentment for the deaths of his relatives during Dany's sack of Astapor).

MERO: Daario Naharis, the whore who doesn’t like whores.

DAARIO: I like them very much. I just refuse to pay them. And I’m no whore, my friend.

MERO: She sells her sheath, and you sell your blade. What’s the difference?

DAARIO: I fight for beauty.

PRENDAHL: For beauty?

MERO: We fight for gold.

DAARIO: The Gods gave men two gifts to entertain ourselves before we die, the thrill of fucking a woman who wants to be fucked and the thrill of killing a man who wants to kill you.

MERO: You’ll die young.

I'm gonna talk more about this when show!Daario meets with show!Dany in the next scene, but I really dislike the implication that he is only motivated to fight for show!Dany because of her beauty rather than because she has more chances to come off as the upcoming battle's winner. In the books, Dany's victory against Yunkai was certain (her main struggle, as I already said, was that she didn't want so many of her freedmen to die in battle).

Show!Daario's hedonistic nature is arguably in character with his book counterpart:

“...I count no day as lived unless I have loved a woman, slain a foeman, and eaten a fine meal ... and the days that I have lived are as numberless as the stars in the sky. I make of slaughter a thing of beauty, and many a tumbler and fire dancer has wept to the gods that they might be half so quick, a quarter so graceful. I would tell you the names of all the men I have slain, but before I could finish your dragons would grow large as castles, the walls of Yunkai would crumble into yellow dust, and winter would come and go and come again.” (ASOS Daenerys IV)

But this is beside the point. Again, why are we spending time with him and these men when they were only meant to service Dany's development and storyline in the books?

Their strategic concerns are only briefly addressed and their plan to solve them is ridiculous and nonsensical:

PRENDAHL: What do we do about the dragon girl? We can’t beat eight thousand Unsullied on the battlefield.

MERO: There won’t be a battle, and we don’t have to deal with her eunuchs. We only have to deal with her.

PRENDAHL: She’s wellguarded.

MERO: Tonight’s a new moon. One of us slips into her camp past her Unsullied and her knights.

What's even stupider than the plan itself is the fact that it works in the show. Yes, the show validated Mero's plan, because it would rather show off his abilities rather than those of its female protagonist. To validate anything that Mero says or does reinforces how tone-deaf the show writers are to the unfortunate implications in their writing.

In the books, Dany's guards are actually competent and catch Daario when he attempts to meet with her, so this plan obviously wouldn't have worked there:

“The Unsullied caught one of the sellswords trying to sneak into the camp.”

“A spy?” That frightened her. If they’d caught one, how many others might have gotten away?

“He claims to come bearing gifts. It’s the yellow fool with the blue hair.”

Daario Naharis. “That one. I’ll hear him, then.” (ASOS Daenerys IV)

To top it all off, their moronic plan is worked out while another woman is being sexualized just for the sake of it:

DAARIO: Which one of us?

MERO: Close your eyes, love. Three coins. A coin from Meereen, a coin from Volantis, and a coin from Braavos. The Braavosi does the deed. One for each of us, darling. No peeking. 

DAARIO: Do you hear me? Follow my voice. I’m right here. You have something for me? Valar Morghulis.

I'm not trying to say that the books are free from gratuitous sexualization and misogyny; they are definitely not. That being said, the military commanders' and the envoy's slut-shaming of Dany stands in contrast with how Dany becomes a mother and a cult figure to the Yunkish freedmen by the end of the same chapter. This contrast could be interpreted as social commentary about how Dany falls prey to a Madonna-whore dichotomy based on whether she's loved or hated by the people of this patriarchal world. The moments where Dany interacts with these men in the books (and the show) add to such social commentary; this show only scene where these men interact with each other without show!Dany's presence don't have anything meaningful to say. It manages to be both pointless and offensive at the same time.

Scene 9

DAENERYS: Nineteen?

MISSANDEI: Yes, Your Grace.

DAENERYS: How can anyone speak languages?

MISSANDEI: It only took Your Grace a year to learn Dothraki reasonably well.

DAENERYS: Yes, well, it was either learn Dothraki or grunt at my husband and hope… What do you mean, “reasonably well”?

MISSANDEI: Dothraki is difficult for the mouth to master. So guttural and harsh.

DAENERYS: Drogo said I spoke Dothraki like one born to it. It gave him great pride.

MISSANDEI: Athjahakar.

DAENERYS: Athjahaka.

MISSANDEI: Athjahakar.

DAENERYS: Athjahakar. Well, I suppose I’m a bit out of practice.

MISSANDEI: Your High Valyrian is very good, Your Grace. The Gods could not devise a more perfect tongue. It is the only proper language for poetry.

I love show!Dany and show!Missandei's relationship and am up for any scene where the two get to interact with each other just for the sake of it. That being said, why does their first bonding moment have to be about how show!Dany's Dothraki language skills aren't as developed as she thought they were? Ugh, she is so lacking in self-awareness because she's too arrogant, amirite? Only a man who's sexually interested in her would praise her skills, amirite (more on this later)? The underlying implications in these show only additions are annoying and unintended at best and offensive and malicious at worst.

Besides, why couldn't they have had show!Dany and show!Missandei talk to each other about their difficult past experiences and how they empathize with one another? Why couldn't the scene have focused on showing that they are growing fond of each other or explored the interesting aspects of their book dynamic (With the necessary adjustments to fit show!Missandei's age, of course)? So much wasted potential.

Also, I hate that they have show!Dany say that her Dothraki is rusty, since it implies that she hasn't been interacting with her khalasar at all (unlike in the books, where she constantly talks to them and/or thinks of them and/or is shown to be in the same room with them).

*

I've already talked about how Daario never successfully invades Dany's camp in the books because her guards are actually qualified there and how this is another way to undermine her character's competence. I'm going to address other things now.

For starters, the setup of show!Dany and show!Daario's second meeting is changed from the books. There, she was fully clothed in the company of her retinue. On HBO, show!Dany is much more vulnerable: she is naked, taking a bath, with only with Missandei by her side and at the mercy of show!Daario's willingness to spare her. It's an unnecessary and offensive change made solely for the sake of hyping up show!Daario's character (at the expense of the female lead character's effectiveness).

I also want to focus on this part of their interaction:

DAENERYS: You were sent here to kill me? So why haven’t you?

DAARIO: I don’t want to.

DAENERYS: What do your captains have to say about that?

DAARIO: You should ask them.

DAENERYS: Why?

DAARIO: We had philosophical differences.

DAENERYS: Over what?

DAARIO: Your beauty. It meant more to me than it did to them.

DAENERYS: You’re a strange man.

DAARIO: I’m the simplest man you’ll ever meet. I only do what I want to do.

DAENERYS: And this is supposed to impress me?

DAARIO: Yes.

It's true that the Daario of the books also brings up Dany's beauty as a reason why he decided to join her, but we shouldn't take his word for granted. Unlike in the show, the books never question that Dany's odds of winning a battle against Yunkai are indeed very high, so it stands to reason that Daario turned to her side primarily because he's opportunistic and, as Dany puts it, "would sooner sup on gold and glory than on death".

Meanwhile, on HBO, because of the writers' numerous attempts to undermine show!Dany's military strength, skills, possessions and accomplishments, show!Daario's statement that he decided to join show!Dany because of her beauty seems like something that we're supposed to take at face value. This is gross and, in light of how they tried to imply that her subjects followed her primarily because of her beauty in the final season, predictable.

*

In the books, Dany is suspicious of Daario for a few reasons: she is initially afraid that he's spying for the sellswords and Yunkai (and that that would lead to her surprise attack backfiring) and considers the possibility that he's not really turning to her side, but rather that he simply wants to save his own skin. She accepts his service because she knows that he would have nothing to gain by betraying her (especially after he had already betrayed his fellow captains and after her dragons themselves failed to convey any hostile reaction against him), that his five hundred men would guarantee a victory against Yunkai and that she must be open-minded and trust other people, in spite of the prophecies about the upcoming treasons.

On HBO, show!Dany is also initially wary of show!Daario:

DAENERYS: You were sent here to kill me? So why haven’t you?

DAARIO: I don’t want to.

DAENERYS: What do your captains have to say about that?

~

DAENERYS: And this is supposed to impress me?

DAARIO: Yes.

DAENERYS: Why would I trust a man who murders his comrades?

However, as we can see, her questions are not the same. Unlike in the books, show!Dany is at show!Daario's mercy, so she questions why he didn't kill her right away (which signals, to her, that he might be trustworthy). Unlike in the books, show!Dany is (rightly) more doubtful of the killings of his fellow captains as indication of his reliability, especially since he could eventually do the same to her (though, again, he never does so when he has the perfect opportunity here) and since, unlike in the books, her dragons are not present in the scene (and, therefore, are not shown to lack any suspicion of him). It's certainly reasonable of show!Dany to accept show!Daario's service, though I wish she had more agency like she does in the books. It's irritating to see show!Dany being threatened (just for the sake of making a male supporting character seem more interesting to the audience) when she never had to be.

*

As a final note, Mero's early death is another change (along with Barristan's early identity reveal) that prevents Jorah's betrayal from being revealed the way it was in the books.

Main differences in GRRM's writing versus D&D's writing

GRRM's episode reinforces show!Dany's selflessness by showing her explicitly put her fight for the Iron Throne aside to focus on freeing thousands of Yunkish slaves and by having the Yunkish envoy offer her even more rewards than in the books (which highlights the extent of the sacrifices she's making for the Ghiscari slaves). D&D have undermined the extent of show!Dany's sacrifice in comparison to the books before and don't care about highlighting this aspect of show!Dany's character in episode 3.8.

GRRM's episode portrays show!Dany as competent and poised in her interactions with the Yunkish envoy. D&D's episode goes out of its way to undermine her and make the sellswords look better.

GRRM's episode features a new scene from the viewpoint of a minor character that adds to the storyline (because it highlights the oppression of the slaves). D&D's episode features a new scene from the viewpoint of minor characters that doesn't add add anything to the storyline (because it's focused on being gratuitous for its own sake).

With crucial differences like these, one can tell that show!Dany's portrayal would have improved if GRRM had been more influential in the show's writing choices. This is not to say that he's flawless or that the medium of a TV series doesn't have its own inherent limitations, only that he cares about her characterization, development and storyline in a way that D&D never did.

My comments on the Inside the Episode 3.7

Weiss: Daenerys is coming into her own in a powerful way in the season. She's always been very negatively predisposed towards slavery because she knows what it feels like to be property, I mean, she was a very fancy slave for all intents and purposes, she was somebody who was sold to another man, taken against her will and I think that her feelings about slavery have started to really inform her reasons for wanting the Iron Throne, it's finally started to occur to her that, if I want to take on this responsibility, it's almost - it's incumbent upon me to do something with it, and she sees this great wrong, probably the greatest possible wrong surrounding her, and she's decided that she's not just going to take back the Iron Throne because it's her right, she's gonna take back the Iron Throne because she is the person to make the world a better place than it is. She is going to not just take it, she's gonna use it for something greater than herself.

This is actually quite an insightful comment from Weiss's part; it's certainly much better than most comments (from him and especially from Benioff) that came before or that will come afterwards. I especially like that he acknowledges show!Dany's past as a sex slave and that he associates these past experiences with her decision to become an abolitionist.

I would only add three things: first, in the books, Dany is always aware that "it's incumbent upon [her] to do something with [power]", it's not something that only occurs to her after she becomes an abolitionist. Second, while show!Dany (and her book counterpart) imposes higher moral standards on herself than most characters of this series do, this doesn't mean that we should do the same. In other words, we shouldn't judge her too harshly if she ever decided to abandon her anti-slavery crusade, for she would simply be doing what any other feudal lord would do: focus on her individual goals. Third, to view show!Dany's attempts to do good (and her reflections about whether she's doing good) as something that anyone could or would do is dismissive of her character's individual principles and experiences and creates a lot of double standards against other characters.

Show!Dany's clothes

A Storm of Swords doesn't give us any description of Dany's outfits during the moments that the show is adapting in these two episodes, so I don't have much to comment. Here's a mosaic of all the outfits show!Dany wears during these two episodes:

I like that the white dress that show!Dany is wearing has a slave collar in homage to her freedmen, for what was once a symbol of oppression becomes one of social justice. Also, that dress is quite similar to show!Missandei's, making this another instance where they are seen with matching outfits: 

Also, @slytarg​ has speculated that show!Dany's clothes in season three were a homage to Mother Mary, which is an interesting possibility.

[anari3l]

stirrings

WORDS: 2249 /// PAIRING: Arthur Morgan x Reader (Harlow as surname) /// Part of ongoing fic, Humors of Whiskey /// also posted on AO3

Humors of Whiskey [1] [2] [3] /// Wildflowers [1] [2]  

“Barnaby.” 

The dappled grey Norfolk Roadster whickered, bobbing his head up and down as you said the name, a large smile on your face. 

“Barnaby.” Arthur’s voice held a hint of amusement, almost a laugh, as he repeated the name. The stablehand smiled brightly, leading the horse towards the center of the stable.

“I like it,” you hummed, taking the reins from the stable hand and leading your brand new horse out to the sunny Valentine street. “Doesn’t he look like a Barnaby?”

“If y’say so,” Arthur hummed, cigarette between his lips. 

“Take care now!” the stablehand bidded as you left the building.

The Norfolk had put you back almost $200. Plus a brand new saddle, blanket, tack, and saddlebags.  You had lost the saddle, and all the gear as well when you left Eugene, nursing a dislocated shoulder on the back of Arthur’s horse, and since then, had been borrowing horses from the camp or riding with Arthur into town when needed. You missed the freedom of having your own horse, however. Since you had turned sixteen, you had always had your own horse to care for. 

“Thank you, Arthur,” you started, petting your hand along Barnaby’s neck. 

“Quit thankin’ me. I ain’t done nothin’.”

You smiled, running your hand over Barnaby’s neck some more, fingers toying with his long mane. “You helped me, patched me up when I hurt my shoulder, took care of Eugene … brought me into town, so I could buy a horse. You’ve helped plenty.”

“Agh, that ain’t worth thankin’ me for,” he groaned, running a hand up into his hair as he removed his hat. 

You sighed, pulling yourself into your saddle, adjusting the skirt you wore as you settled, reins in hand. “When are you gonna realize you’re a good man, Arthur. I mean, even as kids you always kicked yourself.”

“Maybe one day.”

He looked away, down to his hands holding the reins as Calliope shifted beneath him, hoofing at the dirt. You could see the self deprecation oozing off his shoulders as he sat in the saddle.

“One day, I’ll make you realize it,” you groaned, kicking Barnaby into a trot. “I’ll meet ya back at camp.”

***

“Miss Harlow!”

You jumped, shifting to lean against your arm as you looked over your shoulder. You had been quietly reading a book against a tree, Jack sitting beside you making flower chains. Miss Grimshaw was striding forward, the stern look of your mother figure ever recognizable. She rarely used your name; you had grown used to her calling you dear or dearie, and the mere sound of it always had you at attention. 

“Yes, Miss Grimshaw?”

The stern gaze lessened, her features softening as she neared, looking down to you with a small smile. “Dutch wants to speak with you, dear,” she smiled, running a hand over Jack’s hair as he held a flower chain up to her.

“Thank you, Mister Marston,” she smiled, bending at the waist to accept the gift. 

“Miss Harlow’s got one too!” Jack smiled. “And I made one for momma!”

“Go on, then,” you smiled, urging the child in the direction of camp. “Your momma’s gonna love it.”

You rose to your feet, watching Jack run off to Abigail as Miss Grimshaw tutted. “Off with you, now,” she urged. 

You smiled, and headed for Dutch’s tent. Arthur, Bill, and Charles were sitting around outside, listening as Dutch spoke, cigar in hand. 

“Mornin’ boys,” you smiled, folding the book into your hands as you stepped up. 

“Ah, our little doe, Miss Harlow,” Dutch smiled. “The mastermind for this robbery!”

“You found this out?” Bill asked a bit incredulously. You had grown used to the men viewing you as nothing more than a wash maid over the years. Dutch knew better. You may have worn a skirt, but you were just as valuable as an enforcer and scout as Arthur and Charles. 

“Yes I did,” you hummed, jutting your chin up. “Ready to head out?”

“You would be correct, dear,” Dutch smiled. “Good luck. I trust you can handle these men.”

Charles and Arthur smirked as they stood, starting for their horses. You met Bill’s eyes, smiling as you stepped past, setting your book on the camp table. “Of course I can, Dutch!” you smiled back to the gang leader. “Keep up, Williamson!” 

Arthur helped you onto his horse, settling you behind him on the saddle. “So, how do you want to play this?” 

You glanced over to Charles and Bill. “The man who gave me the information said it’d be guarded pretty well,” you started. “I’ll play the damsel, get them to stop, and you three take out the guards.”

“How much is supposed to be on this coach?” Bill asked over his shoulder.

 “It’s payroll for some shipping company in Saint Denis,” you answered. “Driving through the Heartlands to Lemoyne. From the sounds of it: a lot. Should be able to catch it just over the state line.”

“When the shootin’ starts --” Arthur started.

“Run for cover. I know,” you interjected with a scoff. “This ain’t my first robbery, Arthur.”

You felt him chuckle, your hands placed on his sides to steady you in the saddle. “No, it ain’t.” 

The hill you stopped on overlooked a main road, the Lemoyne state sign off to your left. You dropped from Arthur’s horse, stepping up to the ridge as you looked up the road. “Alright, boys, they’re comin’ through,” you hummed, turning and smiling to the men. “Wish me luck!” 

***

“I got a girl in Berryville! Can’t be screwed cuz she’s too damn ill! I don’t go down there no more. There’s a blue horse laying outside her door!” 

You smiled brightly, leaning into Karen’s side as the two of you sat on the log in front of the fire, both of you leaning heavily against the other, a bottle of whiskey being passed between the two of you. Your voices were loud enough to be heard throughout camp, but somehow, even in the drunken haze the two of you had fallen into, the others hadn’t told you to shut the hell up. Yet.

You and the boys had returned that afternoon after robbing the payroll stage, pockets full and a smile gracing Bill Williamson’s face as he admitted you did a good job. 

It was Karen’s bright idea to drink and have fun. It had been a while, and you agreed it had to help lift the camp’s spirits somewhat, especially when Trelawney’s information about Sean being moved by bounty hunters had entered the camp gossip stream earlier that day. 

“No, no!” you laughed, waving a hand in front of your face as you screwed up the line, laughing raucously with Karen. “I got a girl in Berryville!”

“Can’t get it in cuz she won’t stay still!” Karen finished before taking another deep swig of whiskey.

Arthur sighed, leaning on his elbows at the wooden table. The poker game had dissolved almost an hour ago, cards and chips stowed away. Dutch’s tent had been closed, but the lamp was still lit, and those still awake lazed around the fires, watching the stars. “Shut them up, please,” John sighed as he landed in the seat beside Arthur. 

“Give it a try,” Arthur smirked, turning from watching your duet with Karen. “You and I both know that bottle will be thrown at our heads.”

“It’s one in the mornin’,” John groaned, leaning against the table. 

Arthur groaned, pushing from the table with an agreeing nod. “Alright, alright,” he waved Marston off as he stood. 

You were practically laying against Karen’s shoulder, watching the dying fire as you sang mismatched verses of O, Mollie. 

“They say I drink whiskey, my money’s my own! And them that don’t like me can leave me alone … ” You laughed, hiccupping into your hand as Karen hummed along.

“Alright, ladies,” Arthur’s voice startled you as he stepped up, reaching for the bottle of whiskey in your hand. “It’s gettin’ real late.”

“I’ll eat when I’m hungry,” you carried on, a large smile on your face, hand tightening on the bottle of whiskey as he tried to take it away. “I’ll drink when I’m dry! And when I get thirsty ... “ you trailed off, watching as Arthur successfully pried the bottle from your hand and dropped it to the ground. “I’ll … I … forgot the words ...”

Arthur laughed, ducking his head with a small shake of disbelief as he watched you look around your seat for something your drunken brain made up. Karen hiccupped beside you, pushing to her feet. “Goodnight, Mister Morgan!” she smiled, voice much louder than normal, as she leaned into his side and bopped her finger to his nose. “Goodnight!” 

Arthur caught her around the waist as she stepped by, guiding her until she started to walk towards her tent. “Alright, come on,” he started, reaching down for your arm. 

You stumbled as you got to your feet, leaning against his chest with a hand laid over his suspender strap. “I think … I’m drunk,” you laughed, pushing off of Arthur as you tried to step away. 

Arthur’s arm wrapped around you. “Again,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Ain’t ever gon’ be surprised when the two of ya are together. Drinkin’ the camp dry.”

You laughed, turning to face him as he neared, wrapping his arm around your middle. “You should join us sometime, Arthur!” you started, jabbing your index finger into his chest to punctuate your words. “Have some fun! Stop fretting over robberies … and Dutch’s words … and us girls.”

“I don’t fret,” Arthur argued. “But you are sloshed, sweetheart. Time for bed.”

You pouted, stumbling as you stepped away from Arthur. “Rrriiiigggghhhttt,” you droned, waving a hand in the air as you walked. “Frettin’ over me … runnin’ after Mary … helpin’ raise Jack … always frettin’.”

Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but closed it as he watched you. Stumbling forward, hand landing against the bark of the large oak tree, you bent over at the waist, vomiting up your stomach contents into the dirt. 

“Alright, that’s it,” he sighed, stepping up and pulling your hair out of the way. “Ya need t’ sleep. And eat. Come on.”

“See,” you started, wiping your chin on your sleeve. “You’re frettin’ again.”

“Sure.”

He guided you to your tent, making you sit down on the edge of your cot before standing and producing a chunk of bread from his satchel, wrapped in an embroidered handkerchief. “Eat.” He didn’t order, but even in your drunken haze, you could hear the sternness in his tone; the caring nature that was Arthur Morgan. “You’re gonna have a hell of a headache in the mornin’.”

You picked at the bread, chewing on it slowly as you sat on your cot, head already pounding. “I … heard ya saw her … Mary … in town.”

Arthur nodded, standing at the opening of your tent. “Yeah, I did,” he answered. “And her brother, Jamie.”

“She was always nice,” you hummed, tossing the half eaten chunk of bread onto the small wooden crate acting as a table and reaching for your small pillow. 

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Get some sleep,” he added after a moment, pulling the blanket over your shoulder as you slumped onto your pillow, snores almost immediately filling the silence of the tent. 

***

“Son of a bitch,” you groaned, leaning bodily against the support pole of your tent. 

Arthur glanced up from his spot by the cookfire, bending at his waist to pour himself a cup of coffee. You stood against your tent, hand placed over your eyes as the morning sunlight hit you. Your hair and clothing was disheveled from a drunken sleep, and the pounding in your head was worse than Uncle’s snoring. 

“Mornin’, sleepin’ beauty,” Arthur smiled, stepping up and holding out his coffee to you. 

“Shut up, Arthur,” you groaned, taking the cup. 

“Strauss should have some tonic for that headache o’ yours. Or I could go see if Pearson’s got any fresh offal for ya …”

At your visible retch, Arthur chuckled and trailed off. You covered your mouth, wiping the coffee from your lip with the back of your hand before looking up to glare at the man in front of you. 

“You’re mean.”

He shrugged, taking the now empty cup from you. “Could say I’m frettin’ over ya ‘cause you drank Uncle under the table last night.”

You groaned, shoving the heels of your hands into your eyes. “Shut up, Arthur.”

He chuckled heartily, relaxing back as he hooked his thumbs into his belt. “I’m sure it’ll happen again,” he smirked, nodding to the main campfire where Karen sat with Javier and John. “We’re headin’ out to find Sean.”

You managed to chuckle, squinting up at him in the morning sun. “He’ll have the entire camp drunk if you bring him back.”

“Almost a guarantee,” Arthur smirked. 

You stepped past him, patting a hand against his shoulder. “You’re frettin’ over us all again,” you mumbled as you stepped past him. 

“Only you,” he countered. “Better eat something for that hangover.”

“I know,” you groaned. “I’ve been drunk before.”

“It ain’t a camp secret, sweetheart.”

You looked up to him, a small smile lighting your face. “You’re mean,” you repeated, with a small chuckle. “But you’re … right. I guess. Go get Sean back, Mister Morgan. Fret over someone else for a bit.”

“Will do,” he smiled. 

[jehaatiade]

:,) a humble ask for hc’s for Din, Ezra, and Javier admitting they love you in an angsty situation :,)

This took me hours but it came together so well! Thank you for the wonderful prompt!

Din:

he has mixed feelings about taking you along on bounties. you’re the rare combination of a talented bounty hunter and a person who’s never tried to cheat him.

but on the other hand… the possibility of coming back from a hunt without you makes something deep in his chest ache.

you make him laugh. you like him, but you’ve never pushed him to take off his helmet. you make the Razor Crest and the flight time between planets seem more alive.

he’s kissed you. more than once. but only as a Mandalorian, the cold beskar of his helmet against your forehead. he doesn’t know if you understand what that means.

the two of you are on a nameless dump of a moon where the grey salt flats are studded with wreckage from a space battle, tracking a pirate with a hefty bounty on his head, when it happens.

you get a single glimpse of the pirate before there’s a hail of blaster bolts headed in your direction. you both take cover, and the Mando uses terse field signs to lay out his plan: you go right and flush him out. i’ll go left and take him down.

the plan does not come together nicely. in fact, the plan does not come together at all.

the mark is harder to scare than you expected, and by the time you’re in range to force him out from behind his cover, you’re close enough that he can grab you.

it’s a little embarrassing, honestly. you haven’t been in a choke-hold with a blaster to your head since you were sixteen and stupid.

“Let her go,” the Mando says. despite the anger in his tone, his voice is even and his aim doesn’t waver. you’ve admired that rifle since the first time you saw it: the faint iridescence of its prongs, the elegant curve of its stock, the meticulous modifications to its forestock. you’ve never had it pointed at you before.

“Of course, my friend,” the pirate says. “Because I have survived this long by being incredibly foolish. No, she is coming with me. If you ask nicely, I may even leave her in one piece once I reach my ship. If you try to interfere…”

he makes a nonchalant who knows? gesture, and for a second the barrel of his blaster isn’t pressed against your head.

you haven’t been sixteen and stupid for a long time. the heel of your boot comes down on his instep with as much force as you can muster, and when his hold weakens, you drive your elbow back into his nose.

the pirate crumples into a groaning heap at your feet. the Mando lowers his rifle. you make a show of dusting off your hands, because no one has ever accused you of lacking a sense of drama.

it looks like the Mando wants to say something - you can see it in his posture - but he doesn’t, so you fill the silence. “Don’t tell me you were worried, Mando,” you tease. “Like you’d miss me bouncing around the Crest’s cargo hold making a mess every time we go somewhere. You just love having me around.” 

you’re not expecting him to reply, so you take the binders off your belt and bend to cuff the pirate. when you straighten, the Mando is right next to you.

“Yes,” he says. “I was worried. Yes, I would miss you. Yes. I love you.”

for once, you’re speechless, so you just watch your smile grow in the reflection of his visor. then you lean just a little bit forward, closing the gap and pressing your forehead to his.

(and then the pirate at your feet snickers, and you kick him in the ribs.)

Ezra:

taking this job has been one of your worst decisions to date. and of course, you did it because Ezra talked you into it.

“An absolutely unprecedented adventure, little bird!” he’d said. “A moon still molten from the fires of creation, spitting up gems like a baby with a colic? The harvest will be unparalleled; with the right gear, we will stroll through the lava fields collecting Niobe’s roses as easily as if we were berry-picking.”

it is, of course, not that easy.

calling the Red Moon molten is not an affectation; its broken crust oozes lava like a slow-clotting cut. you’re here for rhodoniobium, beautiful silver blooms that appear on the surface of the lava flows. it isn’t difficult to use the nets and poles to retrieve Niobe’s roses. what’s hard is staying alive while you do it. miners die in ugly ways every single day, and they’re rarely mourned.

liquid water is a thing of fantasy down here, for the most part, and everyone is forced to return to the base camp at Kīpuka when they run out. that’s where the two or you are headed when you get separated.

you’ve been examining plutonic rock formations since you arrived, looking for evidence of pegmatite mineral inclusions: rubies, sapphires, emeralds and other beryl gems. sure, they don’t sell for as much as Niobe’s roses, but you’ve never been able to resist sparklies. 

Ezra usually indulges you, but in this case, he’s been looking forward to a bath for two weeks. so when you stop to chip a sample from a smooth dome of granite, he keeps walking. you don’t think anything of it, figuring you’ll catch up to him, until a sharp “Shit!” comes through over the comm.

“Are you all right?” you ask, quickly starting to pack up your tools.

“Hardly the finest way to introduce oneself, taking pot-shots at innocent passersby,” Ezra says, his voice fuzzy with distance. “If you have had your entertainment, I would be much gratified to be permitted to pass.”

you abandon your tools and set out after him at a run as a much younger man says “This is our gorge, and if you want to pass through to Kīpuka, then you’re going to have to pay our toll.”

“I am always enthusiastic to participate in the civil preservation of infrastructure, have no doubt,” Ezra assures the men who you suspect are holding him under rails. “My partner is a ways behind, and she is carrying our meager pickings. You’ll allow me to contact her and request her presence?”

a grunt of agreement, and a short pause, before Ezra’s voice comes through more clearly on your private channel. “May I assume you’ve been listening, little bird?”

“Yeah,” you pant. your lungs are starting to burn, and you’d be tempted to throw off your heavy insulating gear if you didn’t know that the average air temperature around here is high enough to bake bread. “How many?”

“Four. Alas, more than I feel confident dispatching alone.”

“Almost there. I’ll come in over the ridge. Be ready to draw.”

“I always am.” there’s a pause, and at first you think he’s finished. then your comm crackles again. “If this goes wrong, little bird-”

“Don’t,” you say, because it feels like bad luck.

“I love you. Most ardently. If I die here, then I die happy to have known you.”

the only thing you can say is “Damn it, Ezra.” because you can’t wipe the tears from your eyes, and that’s going to make shooting these bastards just that little bit more difficult. he laughs softly, and clicks back to the public channel.

Ezra chats away with the bandits, distracting them with that awful anecdote about the channelrats while you close the last small distance to the ridge above the gorge. you crawl to the edge, thrower rifle cradled in your arms, and take a sniper’s position.

“I’m almost there,” you say over the public channel. “Is everything all right?”

“Of course, little bird.” You can’t see Ezra’s smile, but you can hear it in his voice. He’s ready.

it goes very quickly, as most gunfights do: you push a stone over the edge to start a small rockslide, the bandits turn toward the noise, and you shoot the two men lounging in the shade while Ezra shoots the two standing in front of him.

“Ezra? You know what?” you ask once the bodies have hit the ground.

“What?”

“In spite of the fact that you have damned awful timing, I love you, too.”

Javi:

as Javier yells at you, you wonder idly if Murphy can hear you upstairs. “You could’ve been killed!”

“Just because you couldn’t have made it out of there, doesn’t mean I couldn’t!”

“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he hisses, stepping closer.

you shove him back. “It mean you strut around Colombia flashing your badge and shooting sicarios like that’s what you get paid for! You’ve got Kiki Camarena keeping you safe. You know what I’ve got? A fucking press pass! If my cover’s blown, I get auctioned to the highest bidder and tortured to death!”

“Which is exactly why you should know better than to go sniffing around Escobar’s planes!”

“I don’t tell you how to do your goddamned job, Javi! Don’t you try and tell me how to do mine!”

Javi snarls and digs the packet of cigarettes out of his breast pocket, tossing it carelessly on the couch once he extracts one.

“You’re upset because I could’ve died?” you ask derisively as he lights his cigarette. “Let me tell you something. You, breaking in guns drawn because you think you’re rescuing me, are a lot more likely to get me killed than any mistake I could make.”

“Shut up,” he growls. he won’t look at you as you move closer.

“What is your problem? If this is still about those papers on the guerrillas-”

he shakes his head and turns away. you fucking hate it when he does this, pulling away from an argument rather than just fighting it through to the end.

“Then what?” you demand. if he’s going to disengage, then maybe you need to hit the right buttons to make him change his mind. “Don’t tell me you’re pissed off because you’ve finally realized I really am a better operator than you-”

“Because I love you!”

Javi’s outburst startles you, and you take a step back without thinking about it. he sighs, the tense lines of his shoulders going lax, and turns to face you again.

“Because I love you,” he says more softly. “Because I don’t know what to do without you any more, and that scares me more than any narco son of a bitch. Because I can’t even imagine what I would do if you were killed. Just the thought makes me feel sick.”

“Javi…” you whisper.

he shakes his head to stop you. “You want to know why, every time you come here, I ask you how your articles are doing? It’s because I have this-” he huffs out a helpless laugh. “- idiotic, ridiculous fantasy that one day, you’ll do so well that you’ll leave the agency and actually be a journalist for a living. And you’ll come and live with me, and I won’t have to wonder if you’re dead every time you go longer than a week between calling me.”

“Javi,” you say again. when you take the cigarette from his loose grasp to put it down in the ashtray, he raises his hand to rub his knuckles against his eyes. “You’re right. Part of your fantasy is ridiculous.”

“Only part, huh?” he doesn’t quite manage to make his sarcastic smile look sincere.

“Yeah. The part where you don’t seem to realize that all you have to do is ask.” you cup the strong angle of his jaw and lean in, almost nose to nose. “All you have to do is ask.”

“Why would you want to stay with me?” he asks. “I’m an asshole. I work too much. I’d just make you sick of me.”

“Because I love you,” you say, and kiss him.

[irisyorokobiwriter]

Another Day, Another Bounty Pt. 4

A/N Here with another chapter-not my favorite one that I’ve written (Not sure if it’s because I’ve been staring at this chapter for too long) But more is coming soon! Warning: Abuse, physical harm, violence 

Taglist: @angelcvsmic​

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Lowering slowly to the landing dock, noticeable darkness passed over Xola's features as she stoically gripped the arm of the chair. Flipping off the switches, the Mandalorian rose. "Let's go." He said, ignoring the heaviness in the back of his throat. Opening the hangar door, he watched Xola step down, listening to their surroundings, breathing in the dusty air. As her foot caught on the odd ridge between the ship and ground, the Mandalorian caught her arms, steadying her. "Careful." The irony did not escape either of their minds. If she tripped and fell, what would it matter? Her life would be over, come daybreak. Moving away from him, she smoothed out her cloak and begin to walk briskly. Walking through the port, he maneuvered their way through the coming and going jets and planes, Entering into the city, the Mandalorian felt quiet eyes on their backs, a certain glint in a bystander's eye...they knew. Pulling the cloak over her head, his arm went around her shoulder, guiding her forward.

Turning into an alleyway after alleyway, they stood at the back door of the client. Pushing the entry button, he flashed his ID chip at the droid. Apprehensively, Xola's pinky strayed back to the embroidered lily. Door hissing open, the marching of Stormtroopers rang in Xola's ears. Hand remaining on her shoulder, the Mandalorian guided her in, an element of gentleness to his touch. Instinctively leaning closer to the Mandalorian, Xola stiffened as the hand on her shoulder was replaced with a fist around her bicep. "Easy." The Mandalorian spoke tersely. "You take it easy!" He snapped back, jerking her arm for good measure. Rising from his desk, the client held the tracker in front of Xola, who was leaning apprehensively away. "Yes...yes, yes, yes." Gripping her chin, he smiled. Eyes narrowing, the Mandalorian observed the exchange worldlessly. The scientist rushing in, he swallowed nervously, fumbling as he pulled out a red light. Shining it in her eyes, Xola squinted confusedly, arching her neck away.

"Xola." The scientist whispered, reverence in his tone. Lips parting slightly, she struggled and squirmed from the grip on her chin. "Alright...hurry then." The scientist murmured, the stormtroopers marching Xola forward. Brushing past Xola, the Mandalorian stared at the case of Beskar. The last time he'd lain eyes on such an amount was...years ago, it felt.   "You really are the best of your kind. Then...your reward. You've earned it." Eyes drifting to Xola, he watched her being marched away, out of his arm's reach. As if she could feel his gaze, she looked his direction, before she disappeared behind the door. "Such a small price, for...such a small package. But, to the winner, the prize goes." "You sent out more than one tracking fob." "It was most crucial that Xola arrived. Alive or...otherwise." Taking the case, he paused. "The girl. What are you going to do?"

Smiling humorlessly, he clicked his tongue as he slid him the case pointedly. "How most peculiar for one of your kind. May I remind you, that our contract has now ended. No questions asked. Is that not the code of your guild?" Resisting the urge to look at the door once more, he found himself escorted out by the Stormtroopers. The Armorer didn't ask questions, like usual, just wanting the vertebrae of an issue. Thanks to her interference, and fighting a natural beast, his armor had lost its integrity. "The enemy helped you? Why?" "I...she didn't...fully realize." He found himself saying. But she had. Xola had known from the start. Then why the bandage, staying beside him after the Jawa attack? Why did she save him? "Then, whistling birds." His armorer said after a pause. "That will do nicely." ***

Finding himself sitting across from Greef, he felt the eyes of every bounty hunter digging into his back. "How many had tracking fobs?" "All of them!" Greef boomed. "All of them, and yet, you were the one to bring her in!" "Her?" He echoed. "Word travels fast, Mando. Now, what can I do for my most valued partner? There are some fine medicinal baths to attend, which I'm sure you'd enjoy." "I'd like my next job." "You-Mando, come now! You've earned time off. Enjoy your earnings, you've certainly worked enough for at least a few days rest!" "I want...my next...job." The Mandalorian reiterated. "Right. You, bounty hunters, enjoy keeping busy. Well, take your pick, you've earned it. I must warn you, they are quite far." "The further, the better." Turning on a fob, he analyzed the information. "Nobleman jumping bail, all the way in the oceanic ridge. That is as far as you could be." "I'll take it." Snatching it, he pushed himself up. "Excellent, I expect a good capture!" Turning his back to Greef, he closed his eyes. Xola.

"What do you think they'll do with her." "Her?" "The girl." "I didn't ask." Tone growing in severity, Greef eyed him warningly. "It's against the guild code." When he made no response, Greef motioned to the bar. "Buy a keg here. Go on your mission. By the time I see you again, you will have forgotten all about it." And that was his job, to forget. Forget everyone and everything he came into contact with. Marching onto his ship, he sat down, hurriedly flipping the switches. He couldn't stand being on the planet a moment more. As he pushed the controller forward, the handle top fell off to the floor with a loud thud. He had forgotten to screw the knob on securely last night. Reprimanding himself, he reached down to grab it, his gloved knuckles brushing against a paper. Pausing, he picked that up gently and turned it over in his hands. A common oily paper that was transformed into a paper bird, each line made neatly, precisely, and gracefully. Her eyes. Something he could not place. Not quite fear, and not quite giving up. A look of innocence, yet a wisdom that exceeded her years. Yet...still something."Sadly, we will never know the story." The droids words regurgitated in his head.

 "No," he muttered. "I'm leaving."

Hand hovering over the initiator, he slammed it off.

"Damn it."

***

Rifle set up, he adjusted the listening fob, catching garbled words and feedback.

"I don't care what. You cannot manifest the energy. Harvest what you can. Once you get forty percent, that is all we need. Annihilate it straight afterward."

"But, no, we can still send her-"

"-There is not enough resource. I suggest you hurry, as I can no longer assure you safety. Afterward, burn the 'leftovers'."

Switching off the listening fob, he slid down the piping along the walls. He didn't have much time to listen to their schemes.

Brushing alongside the walls, the Mandalorian paused by the rubbish bin. Hand on the top of it, he peered inside, an all too familiar article of clothing laying amongst the metal scraps and bloody cloths. Picking it up, he turned it a few times. The yellow lilies were spattered in filth and a little blood. She was punched somewhere in the face, the cloak was pulled so hard it had ripped from her body. Feeling unappeasable anger that settled in his stomach, he slammed it back into the bin.

It didn't take him long to break inside the safehouse, and within minutes, he was shooting down the panel to the laboratory door. 

Watching a droid approach her with a large needle, he shot it down, then aiming the blaster at the scientist who was cowering behind a barrel. 

"Please, please don't hurt her! Xola never did anything wrong, please, she's done nothing, please leave her alone!"

Wearing a thin and terribly torn grey top, it was instantly obvious that she had struggled, dried blood and a nasty bruise over her right cheek, a grey metal strap securing her to the table. 

Face an ashen color, he noticed a tube of some sort in her arm. Pulling it out, he looked at the bag that was feeding her body the vile liquid. A sedative.

"What did you do?" He asked, raising the blaster higher. "What did you do?"

"Nothing, nothing! I saved her! If it wasn't for me, she'd be in the dumpster by now, please don't hurt her! She-she is so precious to me!"

Precious? Brow furrowing, he felt disgust sweep over him. 

As he muttered "please" over and over again, the Mandalorian pulled out his grey sack. He didn't have long. Scooping her inside it, he rushed out. 

It was time to make their escape. 

By three minutes, the distress signal would come, bringing all the hunters his way. As the beeping from the fobs echoed throughout the near-silent city, his hand drifted near his rifle, setting it to disintegrate. Make that one minute. As he reached the threshold of the landing bay, he watched Greef solemnly stand in the very center of his way, cronies flanking all sides. No clean escapes after all. "Let me pass," he warned. "You put the girl down, and I might let you." "She is coming with me." "No, she isn't Mando. Is that a real life for her, wandering around like a fugitive with a cold-blooded killer?" Intimidation through doubt. The Mandalorian knew this tactic well. Grip tightening slightly, he stood his ground. "She is coming with me." He repeated.

"If you truly care about her, you'll put her down. The New Republic will take her into custody, and she'll be fine." "How do I know I can trust you?" As if he ever could. "Because I am your only hope." Firing a shot, he tossed himself into the cart, pinning Xola to the ground. "Drive!" He snarled, aiming his blaster at the droid. When the droid shook back and forth, he loaded it. "Drive!" Driving forward, he fired shot after shot. When his luck ran out and the droid was destroyed, the Mandalorian ducked behind barrels. "Here's what's going to happen! I am walking onto the ship, with the girl, and you're going to let it happen!" He shouted. "No, here's what's happening. We will kill you, take the girl, and strip your body for parts!" When someone made a stabbing motion, he used the last of his fuel, shooting flames in their direction. When it ran out, he crawled further into the maze of crates. Blaster after blaster fired out, red lights bursting through the sky.

And so, they would not have made it out in the end. And, he could not save Xola. Lowering the grey cloth from her face, he lowered his head further, hand on the side of her neck. His hand curled around her head, as if that could shield her from the inevitable firing. Maybe if he had left left her, the scientist would have rescued her. 

At the deep bruising on her cheek and swollen eye, he closed his eyes briefly. No. 

No matter what the scientist had said, she was as good as dead there. As good as dead here. And now, they would die together. 

All he wanted was to protect her. But now, they would die, just as his own parents had. 

Eye-opening blearily, she dazedly groaned, the pain obvious in her features. "Mandalorian. You...came back?" "Yeah." He replied, his voice barely above a whisper. Eye closing again, the sedation regained its fierce grip. Holding her close, his hand remained on his blaster as the movement grew closer and louder. Hearing a loud roaring from the air, he glanced up to see...helmets. His brethren and sisters had come, redeeming him from his errors.  This was the way. Picking her up, he ran through the crossfire, trusting. They would not let him fall. Scrambling onto the ship, he heard a small creak. Watching Greef step into the limelight, he solemnly watched his old employer.

"I didn't want it to come to this, Mando. But you're leaving me with little choice." Without hesitation, he initiated the carbon freeze, a puff of dry ice coming loose. In the confusion, he shot Greef in the chest, watching his body tumble out. Hurriedly, he flipped the generators on, sending the ship in the air. And with that, they made their escape. Once they were out of immediate danger, he tentatively set it to autopilot. Climbing down the ladder once more, he opened the resting bay door. Setting Xola on the cot, he rummaged on the panel overhead for spare clothing. Finding a worn undershirt that he used for his armor, he tentatively sat her up, he head resting against his shoulder plate. Sliding the material over her head, he pulled her arms through the long sleeves, and laid her back down. He would need to provide more sufficient clothing later. Opening the carbon, he pulled an ice package from his extra carbon holder. Walking a few paces to her resting area, he placed it over her cheek. 

At least it would help with relief and swelling, though he was near certain her nasal brone was broken. Tucking the thick creme blanket around her, he closed the panel door, returning to the pilot's deck. Turning to the control panel, he resumed the pilot status. What did he just do? What would he continue to do? He had no idea. Finding a quiet planet, for starters. But after that, what? Her entire life was displaced in the span of three days. Hearing the faint sound of the panel door opening, he returned it to pilot mode, scaling down the ladder. Feeling along the wall, the Mandalorian watched her look around in dazed confusion.

"Hello...?" "It's me." Lips parting, she swallowed thickly as she reached him, shivering in the cold ship. He had forgotten how cold other people felt on his ship. "I...thought I hallucinated that you had come back." "You didn't." "Why? Why help me?" "This is the Way." As she pondered his words, he put his hand on her shoulder. "You've lost a lot of strength, you should rest more." Guiding her back to the cot, he watched her settle uncertainly on the creaky cot. "Here, wipe your face." Handing her a dampened cloth, he watched her dab her face, flinching at the sharp pain from her nose. "What is your name?" She asked. Silent, he kept his eyes on their course. His name...it was not something he had uttered to even himself in many years. "Call me what you'd like."

"I'm not good with nicknames..." Sinking back on the cot, Xola seemed lost in thought. "Perhaps...just Mandalorian." "Fine by me." Feeling around, Xola gasped slightly. "What's wrong?" "My cloak...my cloak, where is it?" She asked, her voice raising slightly. "It's gone." Exhaling sharply, her fingers absently drifted to where the flowers once were. "Yes...it is, isn't it?" "Did you make it?" He asked, curiosity getting the better out of them. "Every petal." A bitterness in her eyes, Xola's hand moved to her side. "...What happens next?" "Quiet. We'll find a quiet planet to stretch our legs out for a few months. Sound good?" "Yeah. I'd like that." At the thought of rest, sleeping, and safety, Xola could not help but feel the stirring of something she had rarely had before. Hope.

"Mandalorian," She called out as his boots were fading away. "Thank you." When he began to nod, he chastised himself inwardly, replacing that motion with: "Yeah. I'll wake you for food." Leaning back, he looked at the chart. Low population density, unheard of, small. A nice backwater planet. "Then, Sorgan." Safety.