#this is her pre-game before she gets beheaded

[disco-descent]

Beware, beware, be skeptical Of their smiles, their smiles of plated gold Deceit so natural But a wolf in sheep's clothing is more than a warning

[fareehaandspaniards]

*shoves Katy out of the way and cringes at the sound of glass breaking + cats yowling*

AHEM. (Sorry Katy <3) My turn!

Fareeha, what are your headcanons on Eileen and Bloody Crow so far?! Have you thought about them a bit? Or are you still figuring them out? 🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛

For now I have something about them!

For this ask, I combined my headcanons with my spouse's thoughts, because he's Eileen fan! I've had Eileen's image in my head since the first playthrough, and even though it has undergone many changes, her overall vibe remained the same. Crow of Cainhurst is harder to deal with, as you can create him for yourself almost from scratch! They actually both are very expressive characters! But while Eileen has her own voice, a quest line, and a description of her clothes that tells at least some canonical story, the Bloody Crow of Cainhurst - like Damian and other Old Hunters - creates a lasting impression with his equipment, fighting style and appearance!

(I should have put them next to each other, but Tumblr decided that Eileen's pic is too long, so it cuts her D:)

I should probably start from afar, because I usually get things mixed up, and here I have two characters to describe at once!

Eileen's background. She's a foreigner, but we don't know exactly how her covenant formed, how she came to all this. I think she arrived in Yharnam before the whole blood mess. And I really like the headcanon that Eileen was in love with one of the pre-hunters - the one who was protecting Yharnam and nearest villages from monsters and other people. They eventually became an established couple. And once when madness struck her love, Eileen was the one who had to behead her once-lover. And so was the birth of the covenant.

Eileen reminded me of another character from my all-time favorite game, and she's a dragoon knight whose lover has lost his memory. Aaaaand… her phrase from the game I might give Eileen in this case:

«What irony. To find the man about whom I have dreamt endlessly... only to discover that he cannot even remember who I am!»

Also about origins, if we relate Eileen to modern geography, I'd say her homeland could be Mexico? Not for any deep reasons, I just really like the Santa Muerte aesthetic, and I feel that vibe in Eileen (I'll also mention Scandinavia and Tibet later on, so it's hard to attribute her ONLY to Mexico)

Eileen is quite a tough, cold-hearted person. Actually, to stand under her gaze is a very difficult task, I think even Henryk couldn't do it! (You know, that look of an angry mother, when she doesn't need to explain her child that she is mad, they have already realized that! xd) I think, besides hunting, she also has a lot of applied talents, such as sewing, drawing, modeling, but because of the Hunt she almost forgot all of them.

Eileen really did understand crows somehow! It was HER kind of bird, to which she had dedicated her appearance and to which she had counted herself. In fact, in her homeland she was called as something of a witch because of it, though Eileen herself was hardly related to magical matters! One day she told Crow about it, she wanted to make it sound like a joke, but he took it very seriously and sternly said, "You do look like a witch!" <3

You know the legend of Huginn and Muninn? I think she has her own pair of crows that bring her news and keep an eye on everyone.

We don't know all the Great Ones, but based on the image of Mergo's Wet Nurse, with wings and stuff - could there be any bird-like GO? I think Eileen, just by being herself, has attracted Great One's patronage or became an unspoken servant of this Great One? She's a warm "mom", but she's also connected to something so ancient.

I read some time ago that Eileen and her "foreign tradition" funeral is a reference to the Tibetan rite of heavenly burial!!!! It impressed me madly at the time, it's amazing to find such a fact after all! Thanks you, @heraldofcrow , for that! And it's already "canon" to me that this was the essence of the funeral she was conducting? Many Yharnamites found them heretical as they were in foreign traditions, but with all the despair heaped upon the city and Eileen's faith in what she was doing - I think she was called upon to do such things by people… At the very least to ensure that the soul of the deceased would have a chance at a new life and not be stuck in the clutches of the Great Ones and the eternal cycle of the Nightmare….

Eileen gives me some Boss vibes from Metal Gear, while Crow gives me some Sergei Razumovsky vibes from Bubble Comics. (TBH Sergei is the mental child of Micolash, Crow and Laurence…. I used to really like him, as well as the whole comic. But it changed the course of the storyline a bit, so I don't read it anymore)

Boss in the left, Sergei in the right (One was destined to battle her best apprentice, almost son, and die tragically(on a field full of white flowers, yeahm hello, Gehrman, take a seat), and the other one has inner crow-like crazy personality)

When Eileen became a hunter of hunters, she picked up the boy after finding him in the woods, half dead with many scars. We don't actually know how old Crow really is, some headcanon that he's a grown up man, but in my vision he's a young man of about 20, about the same age as Edgar (again, according to my headcanons! You'll never tell exactly what age is this accountant-looking man xdd)

Judging by the estimated time of the massacre, Crow was just a kid at the time. I think he was about ten years old when all this happened? Oh, ten years old is a terrible age for moral trauma. Child is too old to forget everything because of shock, and too young to find the strength to recognize and process that trauma without outside help, without creating more wounds in himself… What did he experience? What he saw? I don't even want to imagine.

But, as it sometimes happens, we expect from a "traumatized" person vulnerability, need for protection, delicate soul and sensitivity. But it happens that the consciousness gives absolutely opposite behavior, hiding all sensitivity deep and far away. So young Crow was not the best child to raise! He came to Eileen rough, heartless, with a slight sadistic tendency. I think because of him and his behavior, Eileen went through many difficult hours… But here you either refuse to let someone else's problems into your heart and miss the opportunity to help, or you live someone else's suffering as your own, and Eileen, of course, in Crow's case, chose the second option. It's a very hard thing to do. But such kindness is always reciprocated in one way or another, and it can also spark the strongest bond!

Eileen raised him, keeping him strict but spoiling him occasionally (I think she always dreamed of having a family, you know, with two people loving each other and kids? But fate deprived her of such an opportunity - she wouldn't be able to love again… But having lost it, Eileen would have gained a "son"). She couldn't not being strict and even sometimes cruel (NO physical punishments or anything else! Hard trainings - yes, tough tasks - yeah) - otherwise Crow would never have taken her seriously. Eileen was great at separating her images of "mother" and "mentor" into two different parts. "Mother" was always understanding and comforting, but "mentor" demanded that she do her bidding and kept a stern eye on her protégé's progress.

As a young boy, he was very sensitive to being laughed at. And as it happens, he did funny things quite often, whether it was awkwardness, attention-seeking, or just plain luck in life. Eileen found him funny but didn't know it hurt him. Crow was offended. But once he saw her sad, watched her stay up at night, found out HOW MUCH heaviness she had on her mind and experienced the most genuine understanding, he realized WANTED to be funny to her? That giving your loved one a reason to laugh is a way to take his mind off his problems. That's how he probably got over his exorbitant ego for the first time. And that's how people grow up! :^)

Crow grew into a skillful and very strong young man. "The student surpassed his teacher" was their situation. Crow became a better man and took from his mentor all that she could give him. Aaaaand... He made his own choice in life, I believe. He stepped out from under his mentor's wing, taking his course back to Cainhurst. And, taking to my headcanons the research of @heraldofcrow, I willingly believe he chose the "heretical path" of not taking souls to heaven as he should, but coming to his Queen and bringing those souls to her feet.

I don't think there was any drama between them when Crow committed the betrayal. There was no breakup, no words, why would they need them? He just chose his path. There's no room for her judgment, they just became strangers. They went their separate ways, and that's a conscious choice Crow made. Did it hurt Eileen? Madly, I think. But her emotions can almost never get the better of her, which is why she coldly refers to Crow as "my prey." She doesn't allow herself to take offense. Except in her failure quest line, when she's distraught and attacks a player. I think it's naturally all about Crow there. It's just that in the "failed" quest line she has no alternate successor to her covenant as a player, and thus has no hope at all. Only despair and bitter betrayal by the closest person to her.

Does it hurt Crow? I don't know. I think he respects Eileen, I think he values her and knows that he will never meet a better and more honest warrior. Maybe he's sorry he had to do it. But no more than that. Is he heartless? Not really. What's inside him? I think he wants to get back what he lost a long time ago. Unfortunately, it's human nature. Even if we feel very good in a new home, we will agonize and think about the old one we were deprived of, that old home will always be "more valuable" in our imagination….

Small headcanons and relationships!

Damian + Eileen. (of course I started with Damian I am sorry lol... My fav will be everywhere) The two met when Eileen first arrived in Yharnam. Their little unspoken friendship began over a glass of Eileen's tincture. Almost no one knew of this acquaintance, but somehow they were comfortable in each other's company. Perhaps because they were both kind-hearted adults for everyone else and had a warm personality and compassion for others.

Damian was visiting Micolash's mummy, constantly lighting candles in the hall where he is. But on one of his visits, he was able to open the empty building of the School of Mensis. He found Edgar's corpse there. He called Eileen because he wanted to give him a proper burial. Together they performed the ceremony in the proper manner. They couldn't know it, but Edgar's soul and mind, trapped in a nightmare, felt better. And when the hunter killed him finally - his soul was free and cleansed, thanks to this ritual.

Eileen + Gascoigne + Henryk + Viola. A real family friendship! Gascoigne is also a foreigner, as is Eileen, and Henryk isn't really from around here… I think Eileen was the best friend of the family, and Gascoigne's little daughters adored her! It's a common headcanon, and I like it a lot :^) They were all very connected… (I think Crow have been a frequent visitor to their house with Eileen. And Eileen would tell stories about him at the table and Crow would resent xd)

Crow + Annalise. OooOooOoooh, I'm chuffed, to tell you the truth xddd But! I think Crow could have been very much in love with Annalise as a boy, carrying that feeling for an immortal woman through the years. Only - he would still be a "boy" to her, and he would have to prove that he had indeed grown up. And, thanks to Eileen's influence, he would succeed!

Crow + Maria. In my version, they're quite different ages, but I think there's definitely a family connection between them. At least as a young boy he would have seen Maria within the castle walls. I think they would have grimaced, showing each other tongues because they're both kids at heart xd And for a while they could both learn the Blade skill, where Crow would be enamored with blood magic and Maria would be the opposite. (I really need to make a table of character ages by time of events, because otherwise I get confused, and I have different ages for Maria in different headcanons! xd)

Crow + Alfred. Alfred would probably look like a nasty little bug to Crow, wouldn't he? The kind that's annoying just by the sight of it. (I like bugs actually, all I want to say is that Crow despises Alfred) He'd obviously have heard of a follower of Martyr Logarius who zealously seeks revenge for his teacher? (I'm surprised there is no quest line in the game where these two meet and try to kill each other) And Crow couldn't even imagine this man violently cut his Queen open one day... (thanks, Hunter! xd).

Crow + Arianna. Oh, I think he would despise her as well. Not because of her kind of job, but because she, an heiress of noble blood, an aristocrat, lives under the wing of the Yharnamites who exterminated her people. I think he would have tried to kill her! But Arianna is not so simple. He simply wouldn't have succeeded. You know, that spectacular scene in the movie where the killer comes for his victim and she welcomes him with open arms, completely naked and defenseless, and he gets lost, because he's still just a young boy, not a man… If there were no such scenes, I'm sorry, but that's how I see it xd

Little Headcanons:

Crow has always wanted to wear long, luxurious curls, and Eileen was always cutting his hair, all through his youth, to make him look better (I wanted to first justify that long hair in combat is inconvenient, but it hasn't hindered anyone in Fromsoftware games yet, so okay xd)

Crow is ENTP, you can't convince me otherwise lol…. (maybe you can)

He's also great with kids, I think because kids can sense strong people and are often drawn to them, and he's exactly like that, independent and cool, so Gascoigne's daughters loved him! (He also doesn't mind playing with dolls, just in secret.)

Crow's birth name is Astolf.

I think Annalise knows Crow exists, when Good Hunter comes to the castle. But she doesn't want us to know it.

Crow and Eileen have come a long way together - growing up, accepting their own flaws, that deep bond between them where two can live like a real family while being completely unrelated. But Crow still belongs to Cainhurst and to his Queen, and so his and Eileen's paths have diverged.

Hope you enjoy reading all of those!

[qqueenofhades]

The Green Knight and Medieval Metatextuality: An Essay

Right, so. Finally watched it last night, and I’ve been thinking about it literally ever since, except for the part where I was asleep. As I said to fellow medievalist and admirer of Dev Patel @oldshrewsburyian, it’s possibly the most fascinating piece of medieval-inspired media that I’ve seen in ages, and how refreshing to have something in this genre that actually rewards critical thought and deep analysis, rather than me just fulminating fruitlessly about how popular media thinks that slapping blood, filth, and misogyny onto some swords and castles is “historically accurate.” I read a review of TGK somewhere that described it as the anti-Game of Thrones, and I’m inclined to think that’s accurate. I didn’t agree with all of the film’s tonal, thematic, or interpretative choices, but I found them consistently stylish, compelling, and subversive in ways both small and large, and I’m gonna have to write about it or I’ll go crazy. So. Brace yourselves.

(Note: My PhD is in medieval history, not medieval literature, and I haven’t worked on SGGK specifically, but I am familiar with it, its general cultural context, and the historical influences, images, and debates that both the poem and the film referenced and drew upon, so that’s where this meta is coming from.)

First, obviously, while the film is not a straight-up text-to-screen version of the poem (though it is by and large relatively faithful), it is a multi-layered meta-text that comments on the original Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, the archetypes of chivalric literature as a whole, modern expectations for medieval films, the hero’s journey, the requirements of being an “honorable knight,” and the nature of death, fate, magic, and religion, just to name a few. Given that the Arthurian legendarium, otherwise known as the Matter of Britain, was written and rewritten over several centuries by countless authors, drawing on and changing and hybridizing interpretations that sometimes challenged or outright contradicted earlier versions, it makes sense for the film to chart its own path and make its own adaptational decisions as part of this multivalent, multivocal literary canon. Sir Gawain himself is a canonically and textually inconsistent figure; in the movie, the characters merrily pronounce his name in several different ways, most notably as Sean Harris/King Arthur’s somewhat inexplicable “Garr-win.” He might be a man without a consistent identity, but that’s pointed out within the film itself. What has he done to define himself, aside from being the king’s nephew? Is his quixotic quest for the Green Knight actually going to resolve the question of his identity and his honor – and if so, is it even going to matter, given that successful completion of the “game” seemingly equates with death?

Likewise, as the anti-Game of Thrones, the film is deliberately and sometimes maddeningly non-commercial. For an adaptation coming from a studio known primarily for horror, it almost completely eschews the cliché that gory bloodshed equals authentic medievalism; the only graphic scene is the Green Knight’s original beheading. The violence is only hinted at, subtextual, suspenseful; it is kept out of sight, around the corner, never entirely played out or resolved. In other words, if anyone came in thinking that they were going to watch Dev Patel luridly swashbuckle his way through some CGI monsters like bad Beowulf adaptations of yore, they were swiftly disappointed. In fact, he seems to spend most of his time being wet, sad, and failing to meet the moment at hand (with a few important exceptions).

The film unhurriedly evokes a medieval setting that is both surreal and defiantly non-historical. We travel (in roughly chronological order) from Anglo-Saxon huts to Romanesque halls to high-Gothic cathedrals to Tudor villages and half-timbered houses, culminating in the eerie neo-Renaissance splendor of the Lord and Lady’s hall, before returning to the ancient trees of the Green Chapel and its immortal occupant: everything that has come before has now returned to dust. We have been removed even from imagined time and place and into a moment where it ceases to function altogether. We move forward, backward, and sideways, as Gawain experiences past, present, and future in unison. He is dislocated from his own sense of himself, just as we, the viewers, are dislocated from our sense of what is the “true” reality or filmic narrative; what we think is real turns out not to be the case at all. If, of course, such a thing even exists at all.

This visual evocation of the entire medieval era also creates a setting that, unlike GOT, takes pride in rejecting absolutely all political context or Machiavellian maneuvering. The film acknowledges its own cultural ubiquity and the question of whether we really need yet another King Arthur adaptation: none of the characters aside from Gawain himself are credited by name. We all know it’s Arthur, but he’s listed only as “king.” We know the spooky druid-like old man with the white beard is Merlin, but it’s never required to spell it out. The film gestures at our pre-existing understanding; it relies on us to fill in the gaps, cuing us to collaboratively produce the story with it, positioning us as listeners as if we were gathered to hear the original poem. Just like fanfiction, it knows that it doesn’t need to waste time introducing every single character or filling in ultimately unnecessary background knowledge, when the audience can be relied upon to bring their own.

As for that, the film explicitly frames itself as a “filmed adaptation of the chivalric romance” in its opening credits, and continues to play with textual referents and cues throughout: telling us where we are, what’s happening, or what’s coming next, rather like the rubrics or headings within a medieval manuscript. As noted, its historical/architectural references span the entire medieval European world, as does its costume design. I was particularly struck by the fact that Arthur and Guinevere’s crowns resemble those from illuminated monastic manuscripts or Eastern Orthodox iconography: they are both crown and halo, they confer an air of both secular kingship and religious sanctity. The question in the film’s imagined epilogue thus becomes one familiar to Shakespeare’s Henry V: heavy is the head that wears the crown. Does Gawain want to earn his uncle’s crown, take over his place as king, bear the fate of Camelot, become a great ruler, a husband and father in ways that even Arthur never did, only to see it all brought to dust by his cowardice, his reliance on unscrupulous sorcery, and his unfulfilled promise to the Green Knight? Is it better to have that entire life and then lose it, or to make the right choice now, even if it means death?

Likewise, Arthur’s kingly mantle is Byzantine in inspiration, as is the icon of the Virgin Mary-as-Theotokos painted on Gawain’s shield (which we see broken apart during the attack by the scavengers). The film only glances at its religious themes rather than harping on them explicitly; we do have the cliché scene of the male churchmen praying for Gawain’s safety, opposite Gawain’s mother and her female attendants working witchcraft to protect him. (When oh when will I get my film that treats medieval magic and medieval religion as the complementary and co-existing epistemological systems that they were, rather than portraying them as diametrically binary and disparagingly gendered opposites?) But despite the interim setbacks borne from the failure of Christian icons, the overall resolution of the film could serve as the culmination of a medieval Christian morality tale: Gawain can buy himself a great future in the short term if he relies on the protection of the enchanted green belt to avoid the Green Knight’s killing stroke, but then he will have to watch it all crumble until he is sitting alone in his own hall, his children dead and his kingdom destroyed, as a headless corpse who only now has been brave enough to accept his proper fate. By removing the belt from his person in the film’s Inception-like final scene, he relinquishes the taint of black magic and regains his religious honor, even at the likely cost of death. That, the medieval Christian morality tale would agree, is the correct course of action.

Gawain’s encounter with St. Winifred likewise presents a more subtle vision of medieval Christianity. Winifred was an eighth-century Welsh saint known for being beheaded, after which (by the power of another saint) her head was miraculously restored to her body and she went on to live a long and holy life. It doesn’t quite work that way in TGK. (St Winifred’s Well is mentioned in the original SGGK, but as far as I recall, Gawain doesn’t meet the saint in person.) In the film, Gawain encounters Winifred’s lifelike apparition, who begs him to dive into the mere and retrieve her head (despite appearances, she warns him, it is not attached to her body). This fits into the pattern of medieval ghost stories, where the dead often return to entreat the living to help them finish their business; they must be heeded, but when they are encountered in places they shouldn’t be, they must be put back into their proper physical space and reminded of their real fate. Gawain doesn’t follow William of Newburgh’s practical recommendation to just fetch some brawny young men with shovels to beat the wandering corpse back into its grave. Instead, in one of his few moments of unqualified heroism, he dives into the dark water and retrieves Winifred’s skull from the bottom of the lake. Then when he returns to the house, he finds the rest of her skeleton lying in the bed where he was earlier sleeping, and carefully reunites the skull with its body, finally allowing it to rest in peace.

However, Gawain’s involvement with Winifred doesn’t end there. The fox that he sees on the bank after emerging with her skull, who then accompanies him for the rest of the film, is strongly implied to be her spirit, or at least a companion that she has sent for him. Gawain has handled a saint’s holy bones; her relics, which were well known to grant protection in the medieval world. He has done the saint a service, and in return, she extends her favor to him. At the end of the film, the fox finally speaks in a human voice, warning him not to proceed to the fateful final encounter with the Green Knight; it will mean his death. The symbolism of having a beheaded saint serve as Gawain’s guide and protector is obvious, since it is the fate that may or may not lie in store for him. As I said, the ending is Inception-like in that it steadfastly refuses to tell you if the hero is alive (or will live) or dead (or will die). In the original SGGK, of course, the Green Knight and the Lord turn out to be the same person, Gawain survives, it was all just a test of chivalric will and honor, and a trap put together by Morgan Le Fay in an attempt to frighten Guinevere. It’s essentially able to be laughed off: a game, an adventure, not real. TGK takes this paradigm and flips it (to speak…) on its head.

Gawain’s rescue of Winifred’s head also rewards him in more immediate terms: his/the Green Knight’s axe, stolen by the scavengers, is miraculously restored to him in her cottage, immediately and concretely demonstrating the virtue of his actions. This is one of the points where the film most stubbornly resists modern storytelling conventions: it simply refuses to add in any kind of “rational” or “empirical” explanation of how else it got there, aside from the grace and intercession of the saint. This is indeed how it works in medieval hagiography: things simply reappear, are returned, reattached, repaired, made whole again, and Gawain’s lost weapon is thus restored, symbolizing that he has passed the test and is worthy to continue with the quest. The film’s narrative is not modernizing its underlying medieval logic here, and it doesn’t particularly care if a modern audience finds it “convincing” or not. As noted, the film never makes any attempt to temporalize or localize itself; it exists in a determinedly surrealist and ahistorical landscape, where naked female giants who look suspiciously like Tilda Swinton roam across the wild with no necessary explanation. While this might be frustrating for some people, I actually found it a huge relief that a clearly fantastic and fictional literary adaptation was not acting like it was qualified to teach “real history” to its audience. Nobody would come out of TGK thinking that they had seen the “actual” medieval world, and since we have enough of a problem with that sort of thing thanks to GOT, I for one welcome the creation of a medieval imaginative space that embraces its eccentric and unrealistic elements, rather than trying to fit them into the Real Life box.

This plays into the fact that the film, like a reused medieval manuscript containing more than one text, is a palimpsest: for one, it audaciously rewrites the entire Arthurian canon in the wordless vision of Gawain’s life after escaping the Green Knight (I could write another meta on that dream-epilogue alone). It moves fluidly through time and creates alternate universes in at least two major points: one, the scene where Gawain is tied up and abandoned by the scavengers and that long circling shot reveals his skeletal corpse rotting on the sward, only to return to our original universe as Gawain decides that he doesn’t want that fate, and two, Gawain as King. In this alternate ending, Arthur doesn’t die in battle with Mordred, but peaceably in bed, having anointed his worthy nephew as his heir. Gawain becomes king, has children, gets married, governs Camelot, becomes a ruler surpassing even Arthur, but then watches his son get killed in battle, his subjects turn on him, and his family vanish into the dust of his broken hall before he himself, in despair, pulls the enchanted scarf out of his clothing and succumbs to his fate.

In this version, Gawain takes on the responsibility for the fall of Camelot, not Arthur. This is the hero’s burden, but he’s obtained it dishonorably, by cheating. It is a vivid but mimetic future which Gawain (to all appearances) ultimately rejects, returning the film to the realm of traditional Arthurian canon – but not quite. After all, if Gawain does get beheaded after that final fade to black, it would represent a significant alteration from the poem and the character’s usual arc. Are we back in traditional canon or aren’t we? Did Gawain reject that future or didn’t he? Do all these alterities still exist within the visual medium of the meta-text, and have any of them been definitely foreclosed?

Furthermore, the film interrogates itself and its own tropes in explicit and overt ways. In Gawain’s conversation with the Lord, the Lord poses the question that many members of the audience might have: is Gawain going to carry out this potentially pointless and suicidal quest and then be an honorable hero, just like that? What is he actually getting by staggering through assorted Irish bogs and seeming to reject, rather than embrace, the paradigms of a proper quest and that of an honorable knight? He lies about being a knight to the scavengers, clearly out of fear, and ends up cravenly bound and robbed rather than fighting back. He denies knowing anything about love to the Lady (played by Alicia Vikander, who also plays his lover at the start of the film with a decidedly ropey Yorkshire accent, sorry to say). He seems to shrink from the responsibility thrust on him, rather than rise to meet it (his only honorable act, retrieving Winifred’s head, is discussed above) and yet here he still is, plugging away. Why is he doing this? What does he really stand to gain, other than accepting a choice and its consequences (somewhat?) The film raises these questions, but it has no plans to answer them. It’s going to leave you to think about them for yourself, and it isn’t going to spoon-feed you any ultimate moral or neat resolution. In this interchange, it’s easy to see both the echoes of a formal dialogue between two speakers (a favored medieval didactic tactic) and the broader purpose of chivalric literature: to interrogate what it actually means to be a knight, how personal honor is generated, acquired, and increased, and whether engaging in these pointless and bloody “war games” is actually any kind of real path to lasting glory.

The film’s treatment of race, gender, and queerness obviously also merits comment. By casting Dev Patel, an Indian-born actor, as an Arthurian hero, the film is… actually being quite accurate to the original legends, doubtless much to the disappointment of assorted internet racists. The thirteenth-century Arthurian romance Parzival (Percival) by the German poet Wolfram von Eschenbach notably features the character of Percival’s mixed-race half-brother, Feirefiz, son of their father by his first marriage to a Muslim princess. Feirefiz is just as heroic as Percival (Gawaine, for the record, also plays a major role in the story) and assists in the quest for the Holy Grail, though it takes his conversion to Christianity for him to properly behold it.

By introducing Patel (and Sarita Chowdhury as Morgause) to the visual representation of Arthuriana, the film quietly does away with the “white Middle Ages” cliché that I have complained about ad nauseam; we see background Asian and black members of Camelot, who just exist there without having to conjure up some complicated rationale to explain their presence. The Lady also uses a camera obscura to make Gawain’s portrait. Contrary to those who might howl about anachronism, this technique was known in China as early as the fourth century BCE and the tenth/eleventh century Islamic scholar Ibn al-Haytham was probably the best-known medieval authority to write on it extensively; Latin translations of his work inspired European scientists from Roger Bacon to Leonardo da Vinci. Aside from the symbolism of an upside-down Gawain (and when he sees the portrait again during the ‘fall of Camelot’, it is right-side-up, representing that Gawain himself is in an upside-down world), this presents a subtle challenge to the prevailing Eurocentric imagination of the medieval world, and draws on other global influences.

As for gender, we have briefly touched on it above; in the original SGGK, Gawain’s entire journey is revealed to be just a cruel trick of Morgan Le Fay, simply trying to destabilize Arthur’s court and upset his queen. (Morgan is the old blindfolded woman who appears in the Lord and Lady’s castle and briefly approaches Gawain, but her identity is never explicitly spelled out.) This is, obviously, an implicitly misogynistic setup: an evil woman plays a trick on honorable men for the purpose of upsetting another woman, the honorable men overcome it, the hero survives, and everyone presumably lives happily ever after (at least until Mordred arrives).

Instead, by plunging the outcome into doubt and the hero into a much darker and more fallible moral universe, TGK shifts the blame for Gawain’s adventure and ultimate fate from Morgan to Gawain himself. Likewise, Guinevere is not the passive recipient of an evil deception but in a way, the catalyst for the whole thing. She breaks the seal on the Green Knight’s message with a weighty snap; she becomes the oracle who reads it out, she is alarming rather than alarmed, she disrupts the complacency of the court and silently shows up all the other knights who refuse to step forward and answer the Green Knight’s challenge. Gawain is not given the ontological reassurance that it’s just a practical joke and he’s going to be fine (and thanks to the unresolved ending, neither are we). The film instead takes the concept at face value in order to push the envelope and ask the simple question: if a man was going to be actually-for-real beheaded in a year, why would he set out on a suicidal quest? Would you, in Gawain’s place, make the same decision to cast aside the enchanted belt and accept your fate? Has he made his name, will he be remembered well? What is his legacy?

Indeed, if there is any hint of feminine connivance and manipulation, it arrives in the form of the implication that Gawain’s mother has deliberately summoned the Green Knight to test her son, prove his worth, and position him as his childless uncle’s heir; she gives him the protective belt to make sure he won’t actually die, and her intention all along was for the future shown in the epilogue to truly play out (minus the collapse of Camelot). Only Gawain loses the belt thanks to his cowardice in the encounter with the scavengers, regains it in a somewhat underhanded and morally questionable way when the Lady is attempting to seduce him, and by ultimately rejecting it altogether and submitting to his uncertain fate, totally mucks up his mother’s painstaking dynastic plans for his future. In this reading, Gawain could be king, and his mother’s efforts are meant to achieve that goal, rather than thwart it. He is thus required to shoulder his own responsibility for this outcome, rather than conveniently pawning it off on an “evil woman,” and by extension, the film asks the question: What would the world be like if men, especially those who make war on others as a way of life, were actually forced to face the consequences of their reckless and violent actions? Is it actually a “game” in any sense of the word, especially when chivalric literature is constantly preoccupied with the question of how much glorious violence is too much glorious violence? If you structure social prestige for the king and the noble male elite entirely around winning battles and existing in a state of perpetual war, when does that begin to backfire and devour the knightly class – and the rest of society – instead?

This leads into the central theme of Gawain’s relationships with the Lord and Lady, and how they’re treated in the film. The poem has been repeatedly studied in terms of its latent (and sometimes… less than latent) queer subtext: when the Lord asks Gawain to pay back to him whatever he should receive from his wife, does he already know what this involves; i.e. a physical and romantic encounter? When the Lady gives kisses to Gawain, which he is then obliged to return to the Lord as a condition of the agreement, is this all part of a dastardly plot to seduce him into a kinky green-themed threesome with a probably-not-human married couple looking to spice up their sex life? Why do we read the Lady’s kisses to Gawain as romantic but Gawain’s kisses to the Lord as filial, fraternal, or the standard “kiss of peace” exchanged between a liege lord and his vassal? Is Gawain simply being a dutiful guest by honoring the bargain with his host, actually just kissing the Lady again via the proxy of her husband, or somewhat more into this whole thing with the Lord than he (or the poet) would like to admit? Is the homosocial turning homoerotic, and how is Gawain going to navigate this tension and temptation?

If the question is never resolved: well, welcome to one of the central medieval anxieties about chivalry, knighthood, and male bonds! As I have written about before, medieval society needed to simultaneously exalt this as the most honored and noble form of love, and make sure it didn’t accidentally turn sexual (once again: how much male love is too much male love?). Does the poem raise the possibility of serious disruption to the dominant heteronormative paradigm, only to solve the problem by interpreting the Gawain/Lady male/female kisses as romantic and sexual and the Gawain/Lord male/male kisses as chaste and formal? In other words, acknowledging the underlying anxiety of possible homoeroticism but ultimately reasserting the heterosexual norm? The answer: Probably?!?! Maybe?!?! Hell if we know??! To say the least, this has been argued over to no end, and if you locked a lot of medieval history/literature scholars into a room and told them that they couldn’t come out until they decided on one clear answer, they would be in there for a very long time. The poem seemingly invokes the possibility of a queer reading only to reject it – but once again, as in the question of which canon we end up in at the film’s end, does it?

In some lights, the film’s treatment of this potential queer reading comes off like a cop-out: there is only one kiss between Gawain and the Lord, and it is something that the Lord has to initiate after Gawain has already fled the hall. Gawain himself appears to reject it; he tells the Lord to let go of him and runs off into the wilderness, rather than deal with or accept whatever has been suggested to him. However, this fits with film!Gawain’s pattern of rejecting that which fundamentally makes him who he is; like Peter in the Bible, he has now denied the truth three times. With the scavengers he denies being a knight; with the Lady he denies knowing about courtly love; with the Lord he denies the central bond of brotherhood with his fellows, whether homosocial or homoerotic in nature. I would go so far as to argue that if Gawain does die at the end of the film, it is this rejected kiss which truly seals his fate. In the poem, the Lord and the Green Knight are revealed to be the same person; in the film, it’s not clear if that’s the case, or they are separate characters, even if thematically interrelated. If we assume, however, that the Lord is in fact still the human form of the Green Knight, then Gawain has rejected both his kiss of peace (the standard gesture of protection offered from lord to vassal) and any deeper emotional bond that it can be read to signify. The Green Knight could decide to spare Gawain in recognition of the courage he has shown in relinquishing the enchanted belt – or he could just as easily decide to kill him, which he is legally free to do since Gawain has symbolically rejected the offer of brotherhood, vassalage, or knight-bonding by his unwise denial of the Lord’s freely given kiss. Once again, the film raises the overall thematic and moral question and then doesn’t give one straight (ahem) answer. As with the medieval anxieties and chivalric texts that it is based on, it invokes the specter of queerness and then doesn’t neatly resolve it. As a modern audience, we find this unsatisfying, but once again, the film is refusing to conform to our expectations.

As has been said before, there is so much kissing between men in medieval contexts, both ceremonial and otherwise, that we’re left to wonder: “is it gay or is it feudalism?” Is there an overtly erotic element in Gawain and the Green Knight’s mutual “beheading” of each other (especially since in the original version, this frees the Lord from his curse, functioning like a true love’s kiss in a fairytale). While it is certainly possible to argue that the film has “straightwashed” its subject material by removing the entire sequence of kisses between Gawain and the Lord and the unresolved motives for their existence, it is a fairly accurate, if condensed, representation of the anxieties around medieval knightly bonds and whether, as Carolyn Dinshaw put it, a (male/male) “kiss is just a kiss.” After all, the kiss between Gawain and the Lady is uncomplicatedly read as sexual/romantic, and that context doesn’t go away when Gawain is kissing the Lord instead. Just as with its multiple futurities, the film leaves the question open-ended. Is it that third and final denial that seals Gawain’s fate, and if so, is it asking us to reflect on why, specifically, he does so?

The film could play with both this question and its overall tone quite a bit more: it sometimes comes off as a grim, wooden, over-directed Shakespearean tragedy, rather than incorporating the lively and irreverent tone that the poem often takes. It’s almost totally devoid of humor, which is unfortunate, and the Grim Middle Ages aesthetic is in definite evidence. Nonetheless, because of the comprehensive de-historicizing and the obvious lack of effort to claim the film as any sort of authentic representation of the medieval past, it works. We are not meant to understand this as a historical document, and so we have to treat it on its terms, by its own logic, and by its own frames of reference. In some ways, its consistent opacity and its refusal to abide by modern rules and common narrative conventions is deliberately meant to challenge us: as before, when we recognize Arthur, Merlin, the Round Table, and the other stock characters because we know them already and not because the film tells us so, we have to fill in the gaps ourselves. We are watching the film not because it tells us a simple adventure story – there is, as noted, shockingly little action overall – but because we have to piece together the metatext independently and ponder the philosophical questions that it leaves us with. What conclusion do we reach? What canon do we settle in? What future or resolution is ultimately made real? That, the film says, it can’t decide for us. As ever, it is up to future generations to carry on the story, and decide how, if at all, it is going to survive.

(And to close, I desperately want them to make my much-coveted Bisclavret adaptation now in more or less the same style, albeit with some tweaks. Please.)

Further Reading

Ailes, Marianne J. ‘The Medieval Male Couple and the Language of Homosociality’, in Masculinity in Medieval Europe, ed. by Dawn M. Hadley (Harlow: Longman, 1999), pp. 214–37.

Ashton, Gail. ‘The Perverse Dynamics of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight’, Arthuriana 15 (2005), 51–74.

Boyd, David L. ‘Sodomy, Misogyny, and Displacement: Occluding Queer Desire in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight’, Arthuriana 8 (1998), 77–113.

Busse, Peter. ‘The Poet as Spouse of his Patron: Homoerotic Love in Medieval Welsh and Irish Poetry?’, Studi Celtici 2 (2003), 175–92.

Dinshaw, Carolyn. ‘A Kiss Is Just a Kiss: Heterosexuality and Its Consolations in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight’, Diacritics 24 (1994), 205–226.

Kocher, Suzanne. ‘Gay Knights in Medieval French Fiction: Constructs of Queerness and Non-Transgression’, Mediaevalia 29 (2008), 51–66.

Karras, Ruth Mazo. ‘Knighthood, Compulsory Heterosexuality, and Sodomy’ in The Boswell Thesis: Essays on Christianity, Social Tolerance, and Homosexuality, ed. Matthew Kuefler (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006), pp. 273–86.

Kuefler, Matthew. ‘Male Friendship and the Suspicion of Sodomy in Twelfth-Century France’, in The Boswell Thesis: Essays on Christianity, Social Tolerance, and Homosexuality, ed. Matthew Kuefler (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006), pp. 179–214.

McVitty, E. Amanda, ‘False Knights and True Men: Contesting Chivalric Masculinity in English Treason Trials, 1388–1415,’ Journal of Medieval History 40 (2014), 458–77.

Mieszkowski, Gretchen. ‘The Prose Lancelot's Galehot, Malory's Lavain, and the Queering of Late Medieval Literature’, Arthuriana 5 (1995), 21–51.

Moss, Rachel E. ‘ “And much more I am soryat for my good knyghts’ ”: Fainting, Homosociality, and Elite Male Culture in Middle English Romance’, Historical Reflections / Réflexions historiques 42 (2016), 101–13.

Zeikowitz, Richard E. ‘Befriending the Medieval Queer: A Pedagogy for Literature Classes’, College English 65 (2002), 67–80.

[ernmark]

One Possible Read of The Green Knight

I say one possible, because this is the story as I understood it as I was watching the film. When I mentioned it to my partner, he didn't take that away. I'm not saying my take on it is right or wrong (I think it's hard to say that about most reads for a movie like this), but I submit it for your consideration.

(Spoilers and a fairly thorough plot summary under the cut)

(Holy moly this got long)

A brief caveat:

Caveat the First: I'm basing this off a pre-existing understanding of medieval stories, which don't necessarily follow the same narrative structures as modern ones. The world they lived in was weird, so sometimes weird shit just happened for no reason, often very conveniently. (If anything, I think this movie did less of that than existed in typical medieval stories.) They also heavily relied on archetypes rather than distinct characters with backstories, as well as a pre-established understanding of the story you're listening to. Like the puppet show that shows up in the story, the kids in the audience had already heard the story enough times that they could follow it without any actual words. On that note, I've also read a version of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.

Caveat the Second: I immediately distrust anybody who talks about any story older than three centuries or so having an "original" version. There are some stories that have distinct authors, but often these stories were retold and rewritten to suit the tastes of their latest audience. So I refer to the version I read, not "the original". I take my reading of that story into my interpretation of what I saw. I'll note the details from the version I read where it's relevant.

The Story

We start with Gawain, King Arthur's nephew, waking up in a brothel with his sex worker lady friend. She sends him on his way back home to Camelot where his mother greets him and kindly asks him where he's been all night. Oh, off at Christmas Mass, naturally, is what he tells her. She counters that clearly he's been drinking all the communion wine, because she can smell it on his breath.

She tells him she's not feeling well, so he should go to the Christmas celebration without her and tell her all about it afterward.

[I don't recall hearing her name in the movie, but in the version I read, the Green Knight is sent by Morgana. Between his mother being described in dialogue as Arthur's sister and a known witch, I'm gonna run with that assumption and call her that.]

This is where my reading diverges: I take all of this as being almost entirely Morgana's story. And from her perspective, it's kind of hilarious. Because this isn't the story of Gawain's journey into Manhood, but of a very frustrated mother's attempts to save her beloved (if disappointing) son.

While Gawain is partying with the sickly King Arthur and the knights of the Round Table, Morgana joins three of her fellow witches and they enact a spell, summoning the Green Knight and a very specifically worded challenge. The Green Knight presents a game: any one person in attendance may injure him and get his badass axe as a prize, but in a year exactly he'll have to go to the Green Knight's chapel and allow the Green Knight to return the exact same blow to him.

Arthur says he wants to do it, but acknowledges he's too sickly to do so. Gawain, already embarrassed once at this party, jumps up and volunteers to be his champion. And when he steps into the ring with the Green Knight, he cuts off his opponent's head. He'd think that was the end of it, but the Green Knight just picks up his severed head, reminds him of the deal to bring the axe back and let himself get beheaded in a year, and leaves.

[In the version I read, this was a ploy on Morgana's part just to freak out Guinevere. Seriously, that was the entirety of it. Just fucking with her rival/sister-in-law.]

In the movie, I got the vibe that Gawain was never meant to be in the line of fire. I suspect that either Arthur or one of his knights was meant to be the Green Knight's opponent, who would die after a year to get his affairs in order. Given that Gawain was Arthur's next-of-kin, that would have given him plenty of time to pass the crown to Morgana's beloved son. Unfortunately, Gawain stepping up messed up her whole plan.

During the intervening year, we see Morgana and the other witches working together to weave the Girdle of Invulnerability. As the name suggests, it's laden with magic to protect him from all harm and all blows from anyone. So long as he wears it, she explains, he'll make it home in one piece.

[In the version I read, the girdle is given to him by another woman later on at a weirdly convenient time. More on that later.]

Gawain barely makes it out when he asks directions from a young man looting the corpses on a recent battlefield. Being the idiot that he is, Gawain takes the young man's directions straight into a trap, where the young man and several other bandits are lying in wait. Despite his mother's assurances that he's invulnerable, he stands down immediately, allowing the bandits to take the Green Knight's axe, his Magic Girdle, all his money, all his supplies, etc.

During all this, three things happen: first, we see A Fox. Second, when the bandit takes the axe he goes all weird and runs off on the horse, forcing the other bandits to chase after him and leaving Gawain unobserved. Third, we get a weird vision of the future where Gawain remains where he is, tied up, until he rots away and he's left nothing but a skeleton.

My read is that The Fox is either Morgana or one of the other witches shapeshifted to keep an eye on him (alternatively, the fox is Reynard or a similar magical creature employed by them for the same purpose.) The Fox then enchants the bandit into running off with the Girdle and the Axe, leaving Gawain relatively safe. And when he fails to do anything with this spectacular opportunity, the Fox gives him the vision of what's gonna happen to him if he just waits around to be rescued.

Prompted to action, Gawain manages to free himself and continues his quest on foot. Eventually he comes across an abandoned manor. Inside, he meets a ghost who asks him to retrieve her severed head, which was thrown into the nearby spring. After some hemming and hawing, he does. When he returns to the surface with the woman's skull, the ghost is gone, but the Fox is watching him.

My take is that the ghost disappeared. They do that. The Fox, being sent to watch him, saw him actually step up and do a brave and selfless thing for once. This is what cements to the Fox that Gawain isn't a perennial fuckup, he's able to grow and mature if he's given the chance.

Gawain returns the skull to the rest of the ghost's skeleton, and he's rewarded by regaining his lost axe. (The axe placed there by the Fox, who took it from the enchanted bandit.)

So this is great, right? Gawain's fuck-upery has been cured and he's doing the responsible thing. Yay, right?

Except he's a fuckup who spends more time drinking and hanging out in brothels than doing Knightly stuff, so he doesn't know basics. Like how to start a fire or get food. Offscreen, Morgana must have been bashing her head into a wall, because her beloved son is going to get himself killed.

The Fox appears to him, and after his initial attempt to drive it off, Gawain lets it stay with him. From this point forward it stays by his side, not-so-subtly giving him directions and keeping him generally safe.

Later we meet some giants, because sometimes there are just giants. We don't question these things in Arthurian fantasy. Gawain asks them to give him a ride to his destination, but when one agrees to help him, he freaks out at the last second and refuses. The Fox speaks to the giant, quite possibly apologizing for its very rude human friend, and the giants go on their way without him.

Gawain is most of the way there by now, but it's late December in Wales, he's super cold and hasn't eaten anything but trippy mushrooms, he can't build a fire, he's been walking for days. He collapses, but the Fox urges him to go a little further and leads him to another manor house. Fortunately for him, this manor has living people in it, who clean him up, put him in a warm bed, and give him food.

We get a dreamy scene where he's being tended by his mother before he wakes up in the care of the manor. My read on it was that this manor and the people in it were sent directly by Morgana to save him. I don't think the manor was even there ten seconds before he collapsed the first time. Because Morgana loves her son, but he is REALLY bad at this.

Notably, it seems that the only people here are the Lord and Lady of the manor, as well as a blind old woman who seems to be the lady's maidservant and/or mother? Hard to tell.

Some flirting happens between Gawain and the Lord and Lady. The Lord of the manor explains that conveniently, Gawain's destination is only one day's walk away and he's several days early, so why not take some time to rest and gather his strength. The Lady shows off her library and her fancy daguerreotype-like mechanism, etc. The Lord suggests another game (mirroring the game presented by the Green Knight) : the Lord will go hunting the next day and give Gawain whatever he catches. Gawain will in return give the Lord whatever he gains throughout the day.

[In the version I read, this happens over the course of three days. Each day the Lord leaves, the Lady tries to seduce Gawain but he refuses, only accepting a kiss from her on the first two days; when the Lord returns with a hunted animal each day, Gawain gives him the kiss that the Lady gave him. On the third day, the Lady also gives Gawain a previously-unmentioned enchanted Girdle of Invincibility, which he neglects to pass along to the Lord, opting just to kiss him instead.]

In the movie, this is condensed into only one day. Gawain wakes up with the Lady creepily watching him sleep, wearing the Girdle of Invincibility that Morgana made for him. She invites him into bed and offers him the Girdle, reminding him that it can render him invincible. The scene gets a bit weird after that-- sex acts of some sort ensue, and the Lady walks away, leaving Gawain with post-coital shame and the Girdle.

Upset, Gawain grabs his stuff and makes to leave. Along the way he runs into the Lord in the middle of his hunt, and he declares that he's going to meet the Green Knight a day early. Citing their game, the Lord presents Gawain with The Fox (who is alive despite having been caught by a hunter, hmmm) and requests Gawain's "winnings" in return-- which he claims by stealing a kiss. I dunno about you, but it seemed to me that Gawain was Into It, at least before he remembers to be freaked out and runs off.

He's nearly at the place where he's to meet the Green Knight when the fox stops him. Now it starts talking, its voice shifting from masculine to feminine. It tells him that he's done a great job, and he can turn back right now and go home and nobody will know but the two of them. He doesn't have to go through with this. But Gawain, determined to fulfil his quest, drives the Fox off once again and goes the last bit alone.

Here he meets the Green Knight in the ruins of an old chapel, though because he's early the Green Knight is little more than a statue, awake but unmoving until the appointed Christmas Day. All the while Gawain just has to sit there and stew in the knowledge that he's gonna die. Finally the Green Knight stirs, asks Gawain if he's ready to die, and readies the axe that Gawain returned to him.

Throughout this, the light hits the Green Knight differently, making him look an awful lot like the Lord of the manor. After Gawain flinches away from the axe the first time, he speaks gently to him, almost tenderly.

[In the version I read, the Green Knight and the Lord of the manor are the same person, and the Lord/Knight is aware of Gawain's magic Girdle, because this was all an elaborate ruse. Because of Gawain's invincibility, the Green Knight only scratches his neck, permanently scarring him as punishment for lying about it and cheating in both their games, but doesn't hold it against him. Gawain then returns to Camelot and they keep the Girdle at the round table as a symbol that all of them have their failings.]

In the movie, Gawain flinches one more time. We then get a second very lengthy vision of an alternate future: Gawain flees the Green Knight and returns home, where he's welcomed back without external consequences. However, he's haunted by his own cowardice, giving up a difficult love in favor of living up to expectation, only to lose everything in the end anyway. His life following the cowardly route was longer, but it wasn't a better life.

He stops the Green Knight one last time, only to remove the Girdle and set it aside before declaring himself ready. The Green Knight is genuinely pleased by this, and he leans in and simply traces a finger over Gawain's throat, before happily saying. "Off with your head."

The movie ends there. Whether the Green Knight leaves him alive or kills him is up for interpretation. But even if the Green Knight wasn't on Morgana's payroll, I feel like he's way too fond of Gawain to do him real harm at this point.

And so Gawain has grown up-- he's brave, he's honorable, he's learned to keep his word and face the consequences of his actions. And Morgana, after some major struggles and a lot of called-in favors, has managed to keep her son from dying on his quest. Victory all around.

There's also an after-credits scene: just a little girl playing with Arthur/Gawain's crown. Notably, this little girl is neither of the children Gawain had in his vision of the cowardly future, so I interpreted it as a new future with a new child with potential all their own.

But that's just my take.

[rowansparrow]

Oh MY ROSE!

Ok, how does he respond to stress?

Any hobbies or interests?

Trying not to cry thinking about your incredible fic...trying not to cry thinking about THEM

AAAAA I too love Rose and I too cry thinking about THEM lmao.

Ask Game: Send in questions from THIS LIST to learn more about Rose or Ju'Lah!

Shenanigans under the cut

Rose is relatively level-headed, but he's very passionate. In By Any Other Name, I think he handled stressful situations with a fair amount of grace (during the pregnancy scare, for example, he didn't flip out, he just... prepared.) and even when fighting he was always very calm and level-headed. BUT. He's passionate, very very passionate. So when the time came to decide whether or not to go back for the Garbaks, he straight up told Rex to relieve him of duty because he was going back whether the Captain said he could or not.

As for when he becomes Gol'Chek, most of his passion/stress relief is channeled into his rage. He's stressed out a lot worrying over Ju'Lah, and hasn't quite tamed his Dad InstinctsTM yet. If she's out of his line of sight, he's nervous. And when Valk threatened her, Rose beheaded him, which I'd say is a fair indicator of how that version of him handles stress.

Again, pre-transformation Rose had plenty of hobbies and interests. I like to think of him as a reader. He was a strategist, and he was sick a lot when he was younger, so he spent a fair amount of time holed away in his bunk reading regulation manuals, culture packets from Senators from far-off worlds that Fox had swiped for him, or anything else he could get his hands on. Language has also been something he was very interested in, hence why he was able to pick up the Garbak's nonverbal and verbal cues quite quickly when he first met them. Culture, history, language, anything like that, Rose enjoys.

Also, he's a GuyTM and likes watching Bolo-ball games with the others, loves to kick ass at card games, etc. I've mentioned this before as well, but Rose loves music. If he's got a quiet night of leave, you'll find him tucked into his bunk with quiet music playing, nose deep in whatever he's reading on the 'pad.

[thenamesreader]

If I Could Tell Her

Prompt: “So you do have feelings after all.”

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For the time Katherine Howard had known Anna of Cleves- both pre- and post-reincarnation- she had been the one to be neutral on most things. She was pretty chill and wasn’t one for drama. She exchanged witty banter with Anne every now and then and the two would come up with pranks together when they were in the mood.

Otherwise, Cleves didn’t show- well, it wasn’t to fair to say no emotions. Just rather little emotion when it came to certain things. From the few times Kat tried to talk about some rather intimate subjects or when the others tried to settle debates, Cleves didn’t have much to say.

So, when Kat had noticed Cleves being unusually flustered when around her, lately, it was more than off-putting. Kat had only seen her flustered once and that was after Anne had pulled a prank on her. She was quick to cover that up with a laugh and smile.

That smile that brightened up the whole room...

I’m getting off track, Kat told herself as she doodled in her notebook. She had been writing ideas for a song but she had tiny sketches of puppies and flowers in place of words, now.

“Kitty!” Anne’s voice called. “Dinner’s ready!”

“Coming!” Kat called back, before closing her notebook. She’ll figure out what was going on with Cleves later.

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“Why are you looking at me like that?” Kat asked.

She and Cleves had been left alone and Kat had decided to bake some cupcakes. Cleves had offered to help and was now looking at her while they baked in the oven with the softest look on her face while Kat cleaned up .

As soon as Kat spoke, Cleves’ face went red and she scratched at her chin. “I was just... thinking,” she answered, unusually hesitant.

“You shouldn’t scratch like that,” Kat responded, grabbing the German queen’s hand with both of her own as she noticed the nervous tick. “Is there something you wanna talk about?”

Cleves only glanced down at the floor. “Um, maybe later,” she told her.

Kat gave a small smile. “Okay.”

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Volleyball was one of Kat’s favorite sports. Especially when they went to the beach. Sure, it was almost rare with how far away it was from their home. But, it was summertime and that meant beach volleyball. And of course Anne had to know this. She was her older cousin after all.

She was playing 2v2 with Cathy (it was almost a wonder how she was coerced from reading) on one team while Kat played with Cleves on the opposing team. The German Queen proved to be rather competitive and a formidable player. Kat wasn’t that great at volleyball but what she lacked in skill she made up with sheer enthusiasm. It helped to beat Cathy and Anne in the game.

Anne complained about cheating, which Cleves and her younger cousin denied. The quarrel probably wouldn’t have been settled if Cathy hadn’t dragged Anne away to Jane and Aragon were.

“They cheated,” the beheaded Queen complained.

“Mhm,” was Cathy’s only response as she turned the page in her book.

Anne pouted before laying her head in Cathy’s lap. Cathy started to comb her fingers through Anne’s hair, relaxing her as Anne found Cleves and Kat back on the volleyball court. It seemed the German Queen was teaching Kat how to better her skills in volleyball with the way she was demonstrating the correct ready position. Kat copied her but apparently wasn’t still doing it incorrectly- Anne couldn’t see that well since she was too far away- since Cleves placed a hand on her back to correct her. Anne’s eyes narrowed as she noticed that her hand lingered a little too long before she moved away.

“What’s that face for?” Cathy asked as she closed her book.

Anne gestured to where Cleves and Kat were, the two now doing passing drills. She could hear Cleves shouting some type of encouragement as they played.

“What am I looking at?” Cathy inquired, seemingly confused.

“Watch,” was Anne’s only response.

The two were quiet as they watched the two other Queens as they passed the ball to each other. That wasn’t strange. But, then, Kat tripped as she went to go and pass the ball as it went out of the court and Cleves immediately went to help her up. That wasn’t strange, either. Cleves always helped Kat when something happened. Or tried at the very least. It all depended on the situation.

But, then, Cleves held Kat’s hand for too long. There was no reason for her to be holding her hand for how long she did after she helped Kat up.

“I don’t think I’m following,” Cathy spoke up.

Anne gave a sigh. “You can’t see that they’re smitten with each other?” She asked.

“Are they?” Cathy responded.

Anne chuckled as she leaned up to kiss her girlfriend on the cheek. “I love you, Cathy, but you can be so oblivious.”

Those two were madly in love and Anne was gonna prove it.

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

Katherine had had enough. Apparently, everyone else had, too, considering that they had shut her and Cleves in a room together.

Cleves was continuously banging on the door, shouting what sounded like expletives in German and how much she was gonna kill them once she got out.

“They’re not going to let us out,” Kat told her.

Cleves growled. “They will if I have anything to say about it,” she huffed as she attempted to open the door again. After only a few minutes, she gave up and went to sit down next to Kat.

The two were quiet for a few moments, Cleves laying on her back as she stared up at the ceiling. It was interrupted as the German Queen started tapping her foot in a slow rhythm and humming to herself.

She had told Kat that she did it to psyche herself up when she got nervous after Kat had a nervous breakdown after one of their shows. Kat had tried it herself and it really did take her mind off of whatever was making her nervous. She knew in a moment that Cleves would start speaking to her.

“Can I talk to you about something?” She called just as the thought passed in Kat’s mind.

“What is it?” Kat turned toward her, laying on her stomach to be level with her.

She took notice of Cleves’ cheeks lighting up with a blush. “Have you... have you ever been in love before?” She asked.

Kat chewed on the inside of her cheek as she thought. She had been young when she had died and all the... well, it wouldn’t be fair to call them partners or anything other than abusers. She wasn’t sure if she had any romantic attraction to any of them in her young innocent mind. She remembers having crushes on some others about her age between them all but that was it.

Come to think of it, she hadn’t experienced the rush of romantic attraction that Anne seemed so passionate about until she got reincarnated.

“Not before coming back,” she answered. “Why?

Cleves gave a sigh. “There’s this girl, okay?” She started.

Kat nodded for her to continue, feeling a bit of jealousy that someone else took Cleves affections. She squashed it down. It was unfair and unnecessary. She should be happy for her friend.

“She’s smart. And pretty,” Cleves continued. “She’s a bit of a gremlin, too.”

That sounded a lot like Anne. But, Anne was with Cathy. Maybe it wasn’t her. Maybe it was someone else she didn’t know that reminded her of Anne.

“I think she gets it from her cousin. But, that’s besides the point,” the German Queen said. “The point is I don’t know how I can tell her that I’m in love with her.”

Kat hummed. “I think you should just say it out right,” she told her. “The worst thing she can say is ‘no’.”

Cleves seemed to think before she turned over and looked down at Kat. “Katherine Howard, I don’t know I can say this any other way but I...”

She lowered her voice, mumbling something. An uncharacteristic trait for Anna. She was actually pretty loud. “I’m sorry. What was that?” Kat asked.

Cleves took a deep breath. “I said I’m...” she started mumbling again.

“Still can’t hear you.”

Cleves’ face became red with a blush as she clenched her eyes shut. “I said that I’m in love with you!”

Kat felt time stand still as she processed the words. That was why Cleves had been acting weird? That was why she was acting more flustered than usual?

“You’re in love with me?” Kat asked.

Cleves didn’t look at her as she nodded.

“Me?”

Cleves nodded again.

“Katherine Howard. Who is me. You’re in love with me.”

Cleves gave a small laugh. “Yes, you. I don’t know about any other Katherine Howards out there.”

“So, you do have feelings after all.” Kat whispered.

Cleves tilted her head a bit confused. “I don’t know if I should feel insulted by that or not.”

Kat turned over to look at the ceiling. “Hold on,” she told Cleves. “I need a bit more time to process.”

“Take all the time you need,” Cleves responded.

Wow. Everything made sense, now. She didn’t have to be jealous of anyone (even though she shouldn’t have in the first place). She didn’t have to wait anymore.

Kat steeled her resolve before turning back to look at Cleves. “Alright,” she said. “I have something to tell you, too, but you’re going to come closer.” 

Cleves looked confused but she followed Kat’s instructions. Kat took a deep breath before she leaned in close to Cleves ear. “I love you, too,” she whispered.

“Really?” Cleves responded, seemingly shocked. A wide smile split her face as Kat nodded. She gave a very uncharacteristic girlish squeal- something Kat knew she would never get enough of anytime soon- as she wrapped her arms around the other girl and fell backwards, pulling Kat with her.

The two laughed with each other, delirious from their overwhelming feelings before stopping to stare in each other’s eyes. Cleves’ eyes searched Kat’s before she spoke again. “Can I kiss you?” She asked.

Kat already felt like she was falling more in love with her. “Go right ahead.”

Cleves hesitated a bit more looking Kat over a second time. From this, Kat knew she was making sure that she wasn’t uncomfortable. 

Good God, this woman was gonna be the death of her.

Cleves, finally, leaned forward and pressed her lips to Kat’s. It was soft- almost cautious in a way. Kat liked it. It was better than- was it fair to call all those others in her previous life kisses really?

Cleves pulled back and Kat was amused that she was the one with a dazed look. “Wow,” she breathed out. “That was the most amazing thing to happen in my life.”

Kat gave a small chuckle as she laid her head on Cleves’ chest. She was just content to lie in her embrace.

But, the moment was ruined as someone slammed the door open. Kat sat up to look up at the offender and found Anne standing in the doorway with Jane, Cathy, and Aragon.

Anne blinked, slowly. “Oh,” was all she said.

“Why did you bust down the door?” Cleves inquired, sounding a bit irritated as Kat was.

Aragon rolled her eyes as she gave a sigh. “Anne said you two should’ve come out by now and wanted to know what was going on.”

Kat narrowed her eyes at them. “How were we supposed to get out if we were locked in?”

“Spare key in one of the drawers,” Anne answered as she pointed at the dresser. A Cheshire-esque spread over her face as she looked them up and down. “You two seemed to have worked out your feelings. Aragon and Cathy owe me £16.”

“I thought we established that there would be no gambling in the house,” Jane scolded.

Anne gave a “tsk”. “We’re grown women, Jane. We can do whatever we want with our money.”

“I refuse to hand my money over to you,” Aragon muttered, not going unheard by Kat.

“You were betting money on us?” Cleves asked, sounding incredulous.

“Unfortuanately,” Cathy grumbled, seeming particularly grumpy about it. Her mood was changed as soon as Anne gave her a peck on her cheek.

“You’ll win next time, babe,” Anne told her.

“How come I didn’t know about this?” Cleves asked, sitting up with her arms still wrapped around Kat.

“Why would we tell you we were betting on you?” Anne retorted. “Kinda ruins the secrecy.”

“I probably would’ve confessed sooner if I knew my money was on the line.”

Anne gave a melodramatic gasp. “Is that all you see my little cousin as, Anna of Cleves?” Anne dramatically fell into Cathy’s arms. “Just a cheap prize to be won? The shame.”

Kat obviously knew she was joking but Cleves didn’t seem to get it as she began to panic. “Wait- I didn’t mean- that’s not-” she stuttered.

Kat gave a small smile before giving her a small peck. “She’s just messing around,” she told her.

Cleves calmed down but she looked embarrassed. “Right,” she murmured. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Kat reassured her.

“Let’s leave them alone, now,” Jane told the others. “I think they’ve had enough of us for one day.”

Cathy picked Anne up as she stayed in her arms. “Up you go,” she muttered before carrying her away. “Congrats, you two.”

“We still have stuff to talk about, Cleves! This isn’t over!” Anne yelled from down from the hall.

“Pipe down, Anne,” came Aragon’s sharp quip.

“Bite me, Catherine.”

“Please, don’t fight. It’s ten o’clock at night.”

Kat shook her head. Anne really was something else. She gave a small yawn. She hadn’t realized how tired she was. Today was a bit wild.

“Hey,” Cleves called, Kat looking up at her. “Let’s go to sleep, yeah?”

Kat yawned again, not fighting as Cleves guided her to lay back down. “Sounds fun,” she mumbled. “Good night.”

Cleves gave her a kiss to the top of her head. “Good night, love.”

Kat gave a content sigh. This was going to be a wonderful, wonderful experience.

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Prompt swap with: @theatergirl06

A/N: Fact: This went through three title changes before I settled on the title. Also, I’m sorry in advance if the ending feels rushed to you. I’m not good at ending things.

[dawning-star]

LFRP - Rinalys Dawnstar {Updated}

Basics –––– ✢

▌NICKNAMES: Rin

▌AGE: 28 or so

▌RACE: Au Ra - Xaela

▌GENDER: Female

▌SEXUALITY: Heterosexual

▌MARITAL STATUS: Single. 

▌SERVER: Balmung - Crystal Data Center

Physical Appearance –––– ♤

▌HAIR: Rose colored pink, reaching down to around her chest. Usually worn up these days

▌EYES: Lilac, with violet limbal rings

▌HEIGHT: 4 fulm, 10 ilms

▌BUILD: Lean. Toned enough to maintain her dexterity.

▌DISTINGUISHING MARKS: Rinalys has a number of scars along her back in particular, remnants of her time in servitude. As of late, she has become less hesitant to show them, but will not quickly answer questions about them unless she trusts a person. The palm of her left hand is also heavily scarred, branded and cut. Each wound on her has a story, and many of them are, in fact, linked ot her past.

▌COMMON ACCESSORIES: Her left hand will always be gloved.

Personal –––– ♢

▌PROFESSION: Member of the Midnight Pearl, Part-time Associate of Priarch Enterprises. Formerly a mercenary

▌HOBBIES: Gardening. People watching. Information seeking. Social drinking.  

▌LANGUAGES: Eorzea Common, Xaelan

▌RESIDENCE:  Sealight Estate, though she also has a small home of her own in the Mist.

▌BIRTHPLACE: The Azim Steppe

▌RELIGION: She has a very basic belief in Azim and Nhaama. Mostly learned through childhood stories. However she’s lived in Eorzea longer than the steppe so that’s minimal at best.

▌FEARS: Being Abandoned. Feeling helpless. Death (at least a little). The past catching up with her. Abnormally large insects that should be set on fire ASAP.

Relationships –––– ♡

▌SPOUSE: None.

▌CHILDREN: None.

▌PARENTS: They exist, technically. She hasn’t been with them for most of her life, however. Their whereabouts are currently unknown, but presumed to still be the Steppe.

▌SIBLINGS: None that she’s aware of

▌OTHER RELATIVES: None.

Traits –––– ♧

extroverted / introverted / in between

disorganized / organized / in between

close minded / open-minded / in between

calm / anxious / in between

disagreeable / agreeable / in between

cautious / reckless / in between

patient / impatient / in between

outspoken / reserved / in between

leader / follower / in between

empathetic / unemphatic / in between

optimistic / pessimistic / in between

traditional / modern / in between

hard-working / lazy / in between

cultured / un-cultured / in between

loyal / disloyal / in between

faithful / unfaithful / in between

Vices / Flaws –––– ♠

▌SMOKING: never / sometimes (very rare) / frequently / to excess.

▌DRUGS: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

▌ALCOHOL: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

▌OTHER FLAWS: Stubborn to a fault. Can be hotheaded under the right circumstances. Frequently short on gil for basic necessities. Illiterate. Is also a little bit of a troublemaker when the mood arises.

Possible Hooks –––– ♦

The Midnight Pearl - Saviors from hard times of her own, she once sought sanctuary within their walls. In time and in getting to know the others she would join their ranks herself, seeking to grow and become something more. As such she can often be seen in events that they may hold, or other business they conduct.

Priarch Enterprises - At best she’s employed in Edarien’s care part time, coming and going as her whims see fit. Anyone in contact with the company has likely heard mention of Rin in passing. Maybe a story or two about her temper and something she might have beheaded.

Taverns - She’s a bit notorious for being at the bar a little frequently. Rinalys has her fair share of tabs racked up, but finds it a good place to gather information. Of course the fun that comes from mingling there is important too.

The Wandering Kind - Despite a home of her own these days, this girl is one who can’t seem to stay in one locale for too long, which means that she might just end up in your neighborhood. How long she stays is another matter.

What I’m looking for –––– ♥

Mostly, to expand the number of contacts that I have and open up doors for possible interactions outside of my current ones. I tend to keep to myself and am hoping to change that even a little. IC or OOC alike.

New friends, possibly ships, I’m pretty open to stuff admittedly. Anything deep requires familiarity and communication before I’m likely to go with it. I’ve been burned at least a couple times. 

I’m all for pre-established relationships as well or establishing a job network for her. In the past she’s been a mercenary as well as a member of the Rogue’s guild, beyond being a former slave. There’s a large amount of wiggle room in it too given her tendency to not stick to one place. 

Out of Character –––– ♣

I get anxious. This can ease up once I’ve gotten to know a person. Groups/Events can take a lot of working up to go to, however. I’ve been better about it recently. Usually.

I also am very prone to getting distracted by things and can easily throw myself into something that wasn’t what I intended to do for hours on end.

My work schedule might make it a bit difficult for consistent RP. I tend to be scheduled where I’m on for 7 days, and then off the next 7 for ten hour shifts at a go. So patience is a must if you do want to make plans.

Most RP will generally be in game or on Discord, if it happens.

Contact Information –––– ✰

Tumblr - I’m always free to field asks or messages here. Headcanons, asks, starters are all things I adore as well if wanting to keep it casual.

Discord - On request

In game - Rinalys Dawnstar. 99% of the time on Balmung, usually in Ul’dah if I’m bored.

[artificialqueens]

Girls Interrupted, Chapter 1: The Institution: 1, Katya: 0 (Vatya) 2/2 - Maeve

A/N: It’s Maeve again! I’m so freaking surprised and overjoyed at the positive reception Girls Interrupted has received. All of you who have such kind things have truly inspired me to keep going on this. I can now say I'm rewatching seasons in the name of research! As always, feedback is welcome. I write because I enjoy it but also so other people can enjoy it, too. So, really, I’d love to hear any feedback or suggestions.

P.S. I’m having so much fun writing the interactions between Katya and the other queens, but I think my favorite part of this chapter is either an especially cheeky Sharon Needles line or the gym teacher/coach that is very loosely based on a straight Santino Rice

This chapter picks up right where the last chapter left off: Violet and Katya’s ice breaker activity…

Fortunately, Violet realized that she would—at the very least—have to cooperate with the menial activity. “Violet,” she supplied cooly.

Katya tried and failed to stifle her laugh. The raven-haired girl looked at her challengingly.

“Tha-that’s a good choice. Very good. I love every color!” Katya stammered as she wrote down Violet’s response. She couldn’t be sure if her partner was filling out her own worksheet, but Katya couldn’t bring herself to care that much. She just wanted this over and done with. Each moment she spent next to the cheerleader made her feel more and more inadequate. Violet was judging her; she felt small enough on her own.

“If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?” Katya continued.

This one Violet was quick to answer, “Literally anywhere but here.”

Her passive face told Katya she wasn’t going to get a better answer. I’ll just put down ‘Everywhere. She loves to travel.’, she resolved. “I think it would be really cool to go to Russia,” Katya offered.

Violet’s eyes left her phone screen. They searched the face of the blonde across the table, traveled down to Katya’s communism-inspired name card, and finally met her partner’s ocean blue eyes. “No?” Her face contorted in mock shock. “Let me guess,” she pandered, “If you could have lunch with any famous person dead or alive, you’d choose Putin.”

“Good guess,” Katya shook her head with amusement, “But it’s actually Maria Bamford.” It was obvious that Violet had no idea who Maria Bamford was. However, a quick glance at the clock told her there wasn’t enough time left in the class for her to go off on another tangent. “What about you, Violet?”

“Dita Von Teese. Next,” she urged.

“What are your favorite TV shows?” Katya continued eagerly, excited that Violet was finally being an active participant.

Violet’s response was almost instant, “Forensic Files and Sex and the City.” Everything about the brunette screamed confidence and certainty—something that came through in everything that she did. Katya wished it were that easy for her.

“I really like Game of Thrones, The Heart She Holler, and Storage Wars: Northern Treasures…..It’s the Canadian version,” Katya trailed off. There was an unspoken ‘and?’ in Violet’s expression, but she couldn’t produce a single reason for why that mattered. But it had mattered. “Anyway…What’s next?” Katya pushed through her embarrassment. “Something I’m good at? Sleeping, I’m good at sleeping. I guess I’m very bendy. Flexible. I can do theater, too…”

“Just put down cheer for me,” Violet ordered without looking up from her own worksheet. The blonde hesitated at the instruction, and Violet let out an impatient huff. “What?”

Katya was quick to apologize, “Sorry, it’s just that I thought you might say something about fashion.” She swallowed thickly. “I’m-I’ve seen you in the halls before, and you look good. Great. Your clothes. You clearly put a lot of effort into your appearance, and I thou—”

“Well, you thought wrong,” Violet spat. “You don’t know anything about me, so don’t pretend like you do.”

The blonde hurriedly scribbled down the word cheer under question five on her page and grabbed both of their papers. “Right. I’ll just go turn these in,” Katya fled the table without a thought. She had clearly angered Violet. Didn’t the popular kids like it when you stroked their egos? Katya wondered. She hadn’t meant to come off as judgemental. It was obvious that they weren’t on the same level, and hopefully Violet would understand that she hadn’t been trying to judge her. She only wanted to get to know the girl better, but she knew know how stupid she’d been to think that possible. No one like Violet would ever waste time on her. Sighing, she placed the two worksheets in a plastic turn-in bin labeled ‘4th’, and made her way back to her desk.

Katya had been disappointed that she had double A Lunch, but the forty minutes were the perfect break before pre-calculus. While it meant she could eat earlier, it also meant that she had no friends to eat with. Ginger and Bianca both had B Lunch. So Katya found herself on the steps of the stairs in the courtyard by the fine arts wing, eating a peanut butter and banana sandwich. There was beauty in the simple things, though, and Katya could appreciate the warmth of the sun and the slight breeze that late morning.

Mrs. Hugh’s room was stuffy. Katya’s funfetti extravaganza was clinging to her yet again, but she couldn’t adjust the fabric too much without disrupting those around her. She wasn’t willing to risk it. Unlike in all her other classes, the blonde always sat front and center in math class. All of the numbers made a mess in her head, and it was easier if she had fewer distractions. No one else felt the same way, though. So when Alaska tumbled in just before the tardy bell, Katya was forced into yet another less than ideal situation.The sunny cheerleader didn’t share that sentiment. Alaska flashed Katya a hundred watt smile and whispered a hello.

Katya didn’t get Alaska. Alaska wasn’t your stereotypical dumb blonde. She struggled in some areas but always kept up with the pack. So she was smarter than she looked? Big deal. What Katya failed to understand was why such a kind, sincere, and smart person would allow herself to be bullied by her peers. The cheer squad clearly didn’t think she had brain cells; Alaska was practically their punching bag from what she’d observed. So why hang around?

Miss Honard, you are an enigma, Katya assessed.

Katya’s continued curiosity over the duration of  Mrs. Hugh’s introductory speech gained her a very important piece of information: if she couldn’t get the lanky blonde out of her head, she was going to have to let her in. And Katya would not be friends with a cheerleader.

Katya praised Marx for the district employee who put Bianca Del Rio in her history class. She and Bianca were unlikely friends—a high school mascot and a theater kid didn’t really run in the same circles—but made an unstoppable duo. Coach A., their teacher seemed to get a kick out of them too.

Bianca was an unexpected constant in Katya’s life. The self-proclaimed bitch was Spartacus, the high school mascot, and the two would never have overlapped if not for their shared love/hate relationship with theater. She was a year younger than Katya but that didn’t stop her from providing Katya with the tough love she needed to keep her head screwed on. Keeping her head on straight was out of the question; Bianca did what she could.

The two girls schlepped over to the far side of the school where the gym was located. Katya, who had made the dumb decision to postpone getting her PE credit for as long, was not looking forward to an entire year of physical activity. Bianca, on the other hand, basically earned herself a double off campus by taking on the role of mascot. And yes, she definitely took pleasure in rubbing the fact in Katya’s face. Sucks to suck.

The other shit thing about a 7th period gym class was that Katya would be in uncomfortably close proximity to the cheerleaders. It felt wrong—almost like she was breaking a nonexistent restraining order. What sick bastard decided the plebs in “team sports” should be forced to observe the pretty girls in peak physical capacity while they drowned in their own sweat? Katya didn’t know the answer, and you certainly couldn’t hold her accountable if they were suddenly beheaded.

One locker and a stack of unisex uniforms later, Katya found herself entertaining the musings of Sharon Needles, resident goth girl.

“‘I look spooky, but I’m really nice,’” Sharon had said when they were assigned lockers next to each other. The witchy teen had a thing for reading people—not that an anxious Katya was hard to see through—and took one look at her and saw a kindred spirit. The funfetti dress and clown shoes didn’t scream normal, either. Katya had been uncharacteristically optimistic about befriending Sharon for all of ten minutes before everything went to shit. Phi Phi O’Hara, Sharon’s mortal enemy, also happened to be in the class.

“I’m surprised you took gym, Party City. Wouldn’t want you to melt in your own sweat.” Phi Phi snarked. The playground bully reclined herself against the row of lockers across from them and examined her nails.

Katya groaned inwardly. Sharon groaned outwardly.

“Fuck off, Phi Phi,” Sharon begged. “Don’t you ever get tired of the sound of your own voice? My ears are bleeding and not in a pleasant way.”

“Eat shit and die, Shar Bear,” Phi Phi called over her shoulder as she skipped off to bother some other poor shmucks.

Phi Phi the schoolyard bully reminded Katya of the villain poodle in one of those Open Season movies. Ironically, that poodle was also named Fifi, which was funny because the poodle was also a boy. Fifi the poodle was groomed like a pretty purse dog and had a little blue bow in his hair. Katya was inclined to take Phi Phi O’Hara—who was not incredibly dissimilar to a trophy pet—just as seriously.

“What crawled up her ass and died?” Katya scrunched up her face.

“If you find out, let me know,” Sharon deadpanned. “I need a smoke.” Katya watched in amusement as the locker room’s resident goth chick removed a pack of Marlboro’s and a lighter from her leather jacket. Sharon caught the blonde’s expression and raised her fist in response. “Fight the system,” she stoically decreed. Katya shrugged as if to say “what can you do?” and gestured for Sharon to walk back to the gym with her.

Their gym class had been banished to the wooden bleachers so the cheerleaders could practice for that Friday’s Back-To-School Pep Rally. The two girls tucked themselves into a far corner on the top row, and Sharon finally lit up.

Coach Rice, who had taken attendance at the beginning of class, had stepped in to assist Coach Calhoun with cheer practice.

Katya and Sharon were fortunate enough to have an unobstructed view of the girls shamelessly throwing themselves at the older man. The majority of the bimbettes were faces she expected: Detox, Roxy, Willam, Courtney, Adore, and Laganja. What she wasn’t expecting, however, was for one Violet Chachki to be the leader of the pack. Stratford’s mean queen never sought out attention, let alone fought for it. Miss Chachki was a one of a kind collectible, and the entire student body knew it. You either wanted her or wanted to be her.

Today, it seemed her flavor of choice was Santino Rice.

Katya udged Sharon with her elbow. “What do you make of that?” She consulted the other girl.

Sharon took a moment to complete her assessment. “I bet a girl that tightly wound is a real screamer in bed,” she answered smoothly. Katya had not been expecting any response of the sort and physically toppled over as she was seized by laughter. Katya’s wheezing drew the attention of those nearby, and Sharon had to hold her cigarette in her mouth so she could flip them off with both hands. They could mind their own fucking business.

Katya was still clinging onto Sharon’s thigh when her fit died down. “You bitch!” She shrieked.

“I’m not wrong,” Sharon defended, taking another long drag from her cigarette. “Ten bucks says she’s hitting on him right now.” In her best Valley Girl impression she crooned, “Oh, Coach Rice, can you help me with my form?”

Katya wasted no time in contributing to the impression. “Can we go to Red Lobster?” The blonde begged in her best Violet-esque bedroom voice.

The absurdity of the request and the thought of Violet, herself, saying those words caused Sharon to half cackle and half choke on her own smoke. Her throaty laugh bounced off of the walls, and this time, it wasn’t just a few pairs of eyes that turned to them.

Uh oh, Katya cringed, busted.

“Sharon Needles, put that shit out and march your ass on over to Assistant Principal Visage’s office!” Coach Rice demanded.

Katya facepalmed hard. What is wrong with you, you stupid whore? She groaned. It’s your fault she’s in deep shit, and she’s never going to speak to you again. The blonde was about to lose herself in an abyss of despair when Sharon’s voice filled the room again.

“Oh no!” Sharon drawled, “Whatever shall I do?” Katya had brought her head up to witness the spectacle and was met with Sharon’s shit-eating grin.

Katya raised her fist in solidarity, referencing Sharon’s anti-establishment words in the locker room. Her spooky new friend shot her a cheeky wink before saluting her corporate whistleblower and unhurriedly leaving the building.

Katya’s eyes left Sharon’s retreating form just in time to catch Violet glaring at her.

The blonde did her best not to worry. It wasn’t like Violet could have known they were talking about her, right?

The bell rang at 3:00, and Katya still hadn’t managed to put the captain of the cheer squad out of her mind. She spent her entire 8th period dodging Bianca’s questions and pleading for some all-knowing entity to tell her just where in life she had gone wrong. Definitely new year, same bullshit. Katya had attempted to begin her junior year with a more optimistic attitude, but after a first day for the history books, she was ready to call it quits.

You win, Stratford, you win. I am but a shell of a man. Woe is the poor soul who dare enter thee, Katya scowled.

The rest of Katya’s will to live vanished when she finally reached her trusty blue Beetle in the junior lot.

“Mother, I am want to commit death,” she muttered.

The cherry red convertible parked next to Katya’s car belonged to none other than Violet Chachki. The bright red exterior was blinding under the afternoon sun, and Katya had to squint to make out faces. A swarm of girls in uniform short skirts and halter tops formed a green and white sea around her only means of escape. Not wanting to engage with Violet for a third time that day, the blonde chose to turn on her heels and pop a squat on the curb.

It was going to be a long year.

[imdoingthismspaintadventure]

In which I nerd out about PS and portal windows.

THE GREEN TEXT WAS ATTRACTIVE. NOW VIEW THE RED TEXT AGAIN.

Oh god we’re going back to TG again.

John is 1000% done with all these huge logs.

TG: when the film crew zooms where the presidents at TG: im like if that dudes black ill eat my hat TG: turns out he is, so we're all "damn, director's got gumption" TG: like we'll all flip our shit he aint shining shoes or somethin TG: its called freemancipation. if its not pres-election its god-ascension TG: in bruce almighty. whoops, different bruce from the one i just mentioned EB: aaaaaarrrgh!

Oh my fucking god TG was still going on and on with his reality-shattering godraps. That is amazing.

He is creating the perfect pop culture amalgam in there, too! I said it before but TG, you are a treasure.

TG: cant explain to me why this aint condescension to think ill shit a brick TG: not even he can convey the intention with his quickspun wit TG: rather defray all this tension, sit on his lap while he whittles a splint TG: and some guy eyes what he does and patronizes: i guess negrocity's the mother of invention

I’m having an astral journey reading this.

TG, what in the actual fuck are you talking about??

You are the god of rambling I swear

EB: stop rapping for a second you horse's ass! EB: i have something important to talk about. TG: whats up EB: rose is in trouble and she needs help. i was going to connect to her with sburb but i lost my copy! TG: ok

Horse’s ass is a good insult.

Yeah I guess TG now has to bail her out after the car fuckup

EB: also she lost battery power. if she can get back up and running, she'll need someone with the game to get her out of there before her house burns down. EB: so i think you should use your copy of the game to help her! TG: my copy? TG: thats going to be tough

Oh no what will the shenanigans be this time.

EB: why? TG: i lost it TG: its a stupid story and id rather not talk about it TG: shit be embarrassing yo

Oh fucking hell.

Why are all the copies of this game getting lost so easily??? Take care of your videogames!!

What did you do to lose it, now I’m scared of whatever bullshit sequence of events transpired

EB: i thought you said you had two? TG: well yeah TG: one is my brothers copy EB: ok, well get his then! TG: alright TG: but hes not gonna be happy about that

Is this going to be like a Dad situation where there is an interactive boss? That was really great so I hope it is!

EB: whatever. EB: also you might want to read rose's walkthrough to get up to speed on this. TG: oh man EB: what? TG: nothing really TG: look all im saying is the girl tends to lay it on kinda thick you know? EB: /ROLLS EYES

Embrace the purple prose TG! Let it envelop you in its glorious overwritten radiance!

Ooh we’re back with the purple lady herself!

She needs to find an alternative energy source asap, to help John and be able to stay communicated, before she burns to death!

Your LAPTOP is out of BATTERY POWER. There's only one thing left to do. Time to make your way to that BACKUP GENERATOR.

Yup, figured it would end up being relevant.

Rose: Knit laptop cozy to shield your laptop from the rain.

...really?

Time managment is not really your strong point it seems.

Oh you already had one made!!

The heart octopus is just the best.

I remember her inventory system to be an unholy nightmare.

That would be such a waste of time! Besides, you already knitted one a while ago. You retrieve it from your KNITTING BAG and apply it to your LAPTOP. You captchalogue the LAPTOP PLUS COZY.

Cozy laptop is cozy!

Rose: Equip grimoire to strife specibus.

Ooh.

That could either result in getting arcane eldritch powers that man was not meant to know... or just a book to bludgeon people to death with.

Both seem worth it.

NOPE

I change my mind this just screams death.

That would be incredibly ill-advised! There are some dark forces you just don't want to mess around with. You understand this better than most. You put the book down.

I like the fact that Rose has an object with such dark and terrible powers even the inventory system  and the narrator are advising us to put it as far away as possible from anything resembling a weapon slot.

Was I correct in the eldritch powers thing??

Rose: Recaptchalogue your items!

Oh hello again you terrible, terrible captchalogue system.

You grab the KNITTING BAG and the GRIMOIRE, in that order. It's always a logistical puzzle with your TREE MODUS. The tree AUTO-BALANCES, leaving the KNITTING BAG accesible in the ROOT CARD.

Imagine having one of this in a real videogame.

Seems the kind of move Yoko Taro would do.

................That rithym minigame

Rose: Allocate knitting needles to strife specibus.

Eesh, that seems like a very nasty weapon by necessity.

You feel a lot more comfortable with this as a weapon. You're so handy with those needles, you feel like you could probably use them to filet a sword fish.

Damn, Rose could be fucking deadly with those.

Say goodbye to all the tender spots of flesh in your body.

John has it lucky with his captchalogue thing.

You lose the ROOT CARD in the process, severing the tree. Hey, careful with all that stuff!

Yeah let’s not break the laptop. Or the Necronomicon, Or both.

Rose: Knit plush cuddle-cthulhu to soothe nerves.

Greatest idea so far.

...it’s the actual necronomicon isn’t it.

That would also be a preposterous waste of time!!! Besides, you're quite sure you've never heard of this creature called "Cthulhu" before. There are however many other specimens of the ZOOLOGICALLY DUBIOUS you're familiar with. Such as...

Or this universe’s version of it at least.

Rose: Consult the grimoire.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

IT’S FLUTHLU!! WITH A BUNCH OF HORRIFYING BEASTS AROUND IT.

IN THE IMAGINARY CITY STREETS

HOW HAVE YOU BEEN, LAST TIME I SAW YOU, YOU GOT STABBED BY A VERY CHARISMATIC DETECTIVE AND BEHEADED BY A WINDOW PORTAL.

IN CASE YOU COULDN’T TELL, I REALLY APPRECIATE THE REFERENCE.

FLUTHLU, FOUL PATRICIAN OF MISERY. To hear his mammoth belly gurgle is to know the Epoch of Joy has come to an abrupt end

:D

Oh god, we get to see even greater elder gods now!!

Nrub’yiglith.... is that a reference to Shrub-Niggurath? Seems the most likely one to me.

And NRUB'YIGLITH, SHAMEBEAST KING OF GROTESQUERY, WRITHE-LORD OF THE MOIST BEYONDHOOD. Hearing his melodious chirps and tongue-clicks causes one's bones to explode.

WRITHE-LORD OF THE MOIST BEYONDHOOD!!

These descriptions are fucking amazing.

Oglogoth....Ok, this is definitely Azathoth, the daemon sultan.

Nice!

And of course there's OGLOGOTH, THE DEEP ONE. Whenever he grinds his teeth, all the children of a random galaxy somewhere will frown continuously for a nine thousand year span.

These fucking descriptions.... Holy shit give me 500 of these.

He is the first and smallest of the SMALLER GODS, appointed in servitude of a vile, unfathomable pantheon of MIDDLING GODS which caters to the whims of the NOBLE CIRCLE OF HORRORTERRORS, an omniscient, omnipotent order of the elite few, forever cloaked in the darkness of the FURTHEST RING.

What the fuck???

So in the homestuck universe, Azathoth is just a scrub! There are a whole three tiers above him in power!

The noble circle of horrorterrors, cloaked in the darkness of the furthest ring...

Someone should make a story with all this lore, or use it in a DnD campaign. Some of this is legitimately really good.

OH MY GOD

THE WINDOW PORTALS. THEY ARE OUTLINED HERE AS WELL.

And then there's this strange page containing some rather mysterious notes on summoning procedures. You've never been quite sure what these diagrams are getting at.

.....of course they are the summoning rituals!!

They lead to the imaginary city and if you cut their power while you are outside an eldritch being appears!!

Flutulhu was summoned after a city-wide blackout, so I wonder what would be needed for oglogoth... I was going to say a planet-wide blackout, but the imaginary city is.....all that exists over there, alongside the four realms and the cathedral/brothel/sun and moon/GPI, and all the other cosmology.

Maybe if you were outside a window during the last supermassive black hole?? That is probably the most pitch black you could ever get while in the imaginary world....

[makknays]

i don’t dance.

requested.

can i request a one-shot taehyung college au? ❤ and angst, please 😇I dont really care about the plot :D it's up to you :)) I love you! youre such a great writer btw!❤

genre: angst?? again im bad at angst

word count: 2k

As if college wasn’t already enough of a pain in the ass, your so-called best friend had fucking bailed on you again. His excuse? He didn’t have one, it was like you weren’t even worth lying to. “Taehyung, you can’t keep bailing on our plans.” you told him over the phone whilst you were starting an assignment. “I’m so sorry, I’m just really busy.” “I know you are, you always are.” “___, please just understand.” “I’m trying but I never see you anymore. This isn’t because I told you I liked you last month was it?” “No, it’s nothing like that. I just- I’m busy, okay? Just wait for me.” It hurt that he was treating you the way he did because he knew how you felt and he pretended that none of those feelings existed, it was so selfish of him.

It never used to be like this; you couldn’t help that you felt the way you did. When you got a glimpse of what a relationship with him would be like your brain just suddenly turned on a switch that activated these feelings for him. He used to come into your dorm and try to rub off your eyebrows whilst you got ready, he would poke at you when some of your skin was exposed due to your cropped hoodie, he would carry you everywhere if you wanted him to and he made you the happiest person in the world but getting that glimpse also broke you apart because you would never truly experience being with him and you had come to terms with that; however, he was the one acting weird, not you.

“Are you coming to the club this Friday?” you asked Taehyung, over the phone. You were always talking over the phone these days since Taehyung never seemed to want to meet in person. “Yeah, should be. It’s Yoongi’s birthday.” “That’s the only reason?” “Well yeah, why else would I go?” “Yeah, why else… not like I haven’t seen you in like two months when you live five minutes away.” “____.” “It doesn’t matter. I’ve gotta go. Talk to you later.” After you hung up on him you collapsed onto your bed, staring at the ceiling blankly and before you knew it you were asleep. As you woke up there was a loud banging on the door of your tiny room, which irked you since that nap was the best sleep you had gotten all year. You reluctantly got up and moved towards the door at the thought it could be Taehyung behind it but you opened the door to a someone that was very much not him.

“Jungkook, what the fuck are you doing here?” “Taehyung told me to check on you. Something about not replying to his texts and calls. Oh and food. In case you forgot to eat again.” “Come in.” you tiredly replied, attempting to process the information he’d thrown at you. “Taehyung sent you?” “Yep.” “Is the food also from him?” “Yep.” “You know I haven’t seen him in like two months, right?” “Yeah… about that. What exactly happened?” “It’s nothing. He’s just being weird about it all.” “Oh, okay. Here, eat. You seem stressed.” he stated as he handed you a bag with a burger and fries in it. “That’s cuz I am stressed, Kook.” you replied before you started digging into the food.

“He misses you, you know?” “Nope. He sure doesn’t make it seem like he does.” “____, he won’t shut up about you, more than usual.” “Well, we’re seeing each other on Friday for Yoongi’s.” “That’s gonna be fun for all of us, isn’t it?” “What do you mean? You think I’ll confront his ass? I’m too lazy.” “At some point you’ll have to talk to him, ___.” “What if I don’t wanna?” “You’re being difficult, ___, this guy is your best friend.” “Yeah, the best friend that started acting all funny when I told him I liked him like two months ago. Like why can’t he just pretend I never said that?” “You told him you like him?” Jungkook replied, not knowing the missing piece of information that you had just told him. “Yeah, sucks to be me, right?” “___, you know him…He overthinks a lot. He’s probably just had a lot on his mind.” “It’s been like two months though, how long could he have been thinking?” “Look, ___, I know you’re upset and frustrated but everyone’s rooting for you guys to sort this stuff out. We know this can’t break your friendship and it sucks to see you guys the way you are but just see him on Friday and don’t let him act weird.” “Jungkook, I told him I liked him and it is breaking apart this friendship. I can’t stress the fact that I told him that and he stopped seeing me in person.” “Just come to me if you need to, okay? I’ll be right there. He’ll see you on Friday, he knows you’re coming, right?”

“Happy Birthday, bitch! You getting old now!” you screamed as you entered the living room of Yoongi’s apartment. “Thanks, I guess?” he chuckled as you pulled him in for a hug. “Glad you could make it.” Yoongi told you as he pulled away. “Glad I could be here. To be honest I need this night out.” “I think we all do;” he joked, “you spoken to Taehyung yet?” he whispered afterwards. “Well, we’ve spoken just not in person for a while.” “Talk to him.” “You talk to him.” “I did. It’s your turn now.” he deviously smiled as he left your side and went to the kitchen. “Bastard.” “Uh, hi. You need some company?” “Yes, I could actually do w-...oh, hi.” you awkwardly spoke, as you looked at the actual person who had spoken to you, realising it was Taehyung. “Want a seat?” “Yeah, that’d be quite nice.” “What have you been up to?” “You seriously gonna try and make small talk with me?” you asked, annoyed at the lack of getting to the point. “I don’t know what else to say. It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other.” he said as he sat down in the one seat that was left over. “Sit.” he told you as he motioned towards his lap and since there was nowhere else you obliged. “Yeah, I wonder who’s fault it would be that we haven’t seen each other in so long.”, you rolled your eyes. “It was justified.” “And what is that justification?” “Can we not talk about that here? We’re pre-gaming for the club and for Yoongi. We can talk about it later, okay?” “I don’t wanna sit here anymore.”

“How’d it go? I saw you talk to him.” Jungkook asked. “It didn’t go. He didn’t wanna talk about it here.” you sighed in annoyance. “Seriously? When will he talk about it?” Jungkook sighed. “I don’t know. He’s been avoiding it for so long and it’s annoying me. He’s, like, pretending it never happened.” you told him, in defeat as you sat down on a random chair in the kitchen. “He can’t ignore it forever; just give him a teensy bit more time.” “I already did that.” “Teensy bit more.” “Whatever, just take this next shot with me.” “I’m taking this as Taehyung didn’t want to talk about the elephant in the room between you guys?” Yoongi teased. “Is it that obvious?” “You want me to talk to him?” “No, that’ll make him want to run even further away.” “Whatever you want, hun.”

“Hey, Taehyung. What’s up?” “Uh, we’re celebrating your birthday?” “Not what I meant, dude.” “What’s up between you and ___?” “She sent you?” “Nah, she didn’t want me talking about it to you but you both seem so tense and upset over it.” “She told me she liked me.” “I am aware of that.” “I pretended she didn’t and have been actively avoiding her.” “I was aware of your dickhead behaviour too.” “Hey!” “Just calling it what it is. Besides why are you even acting this way? Didn’t you like her too?” “Yeah, I just. I never thought she would like me back so I guess I’ve been hiding in case it wasn’t true.” “You’re an idiot. Such an idiot. Sort this shit out. Do this as a birthday present or I’ll behead both of you.” Yoongi smiled before cheerfully walking back into the kitchen to mess with Jungkook and you.

After failing to find out what was up with Taehyung, everyone headed to the club, got ID’d, went to the bar, the regular. but you couldn’t help but wonder why Taehyung was still off with you. “Do you wanna dance?” a quiet, timid voice asked you from your left, causing you to turn away from your friends. “And you are?” “I’m, uh, Caesar.” “It’s nice to meet you but I’m here to celebrate with my friends tonight.” “That’s okay; can I get your number by any chance?” “Nope.” “Who the hell are you?” “I’m Taehyung”, he said as he swung an arm around your shoulder, causing you to roll your eyes, “I’m her boyfriend.” “Oh, uh, I’m sorry. I had no idea.” “No, Caesar, wait-” “Why were you talking to him?” “He made conversation with me whilst you grinded against your friends.” “I did not grind against them.” “Did too. The look on Jungkook’s face when he noticed it was unmissable.” you scoffed as you turned away to order another drink from the bar. Taehyung wrapped his arms around and softly placed his chin on your shoulder. “I’m sorry.” he pouted as he moved to the music with you against him. You couldn’t help but gently smile at the motion; you had missed this; you had missed him. “Sorry for what?” you asked as you finished the drink and placed it on the counter. “Everything, especially the not meeting up with you and bailing all the time part. And scaring that dude off.” he muttered as you placed your hands on his arms which were still wrapped around you. “I missed you.” “I missed you more.” he whispered into your ear before placing a delicate kiss just below. The two of you stayed in that moment for what felt like eternity before he dragged you onto the dance floor, insisting that you dance together even though you don’t dance.

“Taehyung, for the last time. I don’t dance.” “I can change that.” he smirked as he playfully placed his hands on your waist and pulled you into him. Naturally you wrapped your arms around his neck but you refused to do any dancing. “C’mon, just let go. You’re tense.” “Maybe, it’s because I don’t dance, Tae.” “Just follow my lead.” he chuckled as he swayed to the music with you in his arms; you rested your head against his chest and could hear how quickly his heart was beating. “Your heart is going haywire.” you gently told Taehyung. “That’s all your fault.” “You like me too, huh?” “Could say I’ve liked you longer.” “What?” you asked in shock, removing your head from against his chest but still keeping your arms around him. “Thought you knew. It’s kinda why I avoided you so much. I didn't want to get hurt. It was stupid of me. I should’ve just told you. I’m such an idiot some-” “Shut up. Just dance with me.” “Thought you didn’t dance.” “Thought you didn’t like me.” “Oh man, you got me there.” he replied, causing you to smile gently against his chest. “Do you wanna get out of this sweaty place?” Taehyung asked. “Yeah, it is way too stuffy in here. I’ll tell the others we’re grabbing food.” “No, let’s just sneak away. You and me.” “Fine, fine, just you and me.”

[bloodiedskirtts]

Reign | Chapter Eight: The Word of your Body

Summary: Bucky tries to confess to Steve, and Y/N tells Peggy

Pairing: Bucky x Reader x Steve

Word Count: 2.2k (Sorry it’s a short one)

Warnings: A lot of angst. Badly written smut 18+

A/N: Feedback is always appreciated! Thanks for reading. I hope you guys like it!

Gif is not mine credit to creator

Reign Masterlist

Bucky fell back into Steve’s bed, his clothes thrown across the floor as the prince kissed down the other man’s body - slowly, deliberately spending time over each part of his skin. Before Steve could reach his destination, Bucky flipped him onto his back and climbed on top of him. As much as he wanted to feel Steve’s lips around his cock, he knew he couldn’t let him, he would taste on still on him. Their lips crashed together, Steve’s fingers pulling on Bucky’s hair causing him to groan out. He pulled away quickly, moving down the prince’s body, settling between his legs.

‘Bucky,’ he gasped out as the knight took his hardened cock in his mouth.

Steve gripped the brunette locks as he slowly ran his tongue over the underside of his cock. He cupped his tightened balls in his hands as he bopped over the prince’s dick. Steve was whimpering as Bucky’s tongue trailed over every vein in his cock, traced over his red tip that was already dripping with pre-cum. Steve shoved two fingers into his own mouth, coating them with his own saliva before trailing down Bucky’s back and pushing them into the knight’s ass. Bucky moaned over Steve’s cock as the other man pumped the fingers in and out of him, scissoring them inside him, widening the tight hole. 

And then he was being spun around, Steve kissing down Bucky’s back before shoving his cock inside him. Bucky bit down on his lip as he got used to the feeling of the other man inside him after months spent apart. Steve’s head fell against as his neck as he got used to the familiar feeling of being inside the other man. Slowly he began to thrust in and out of him, his hand snaking around Bucky’s stomach to pump his cock slowly in time with his thrusts.

Neither man knew how long they were connected but as Steve kissed down Bucky’s neck. he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. 

‘I love you, Bucky,’ he whispered.

‘I love you, Steve,’ he returned, feeling his orgasm fast approaching.

The feeling of Steve filling him with stream after stream of cum was enough to push him over the edge. His own cum covering the crown prince’s hand, dripping onto the bedsheets.

‘Stay,’ Steve whispered.

‘You know I can’t,’ he replied, with a smile after he caught his breath.

‘Just this once,’ the prince begged, never begging for anything before in his life.

He was being reckless, he knew that as he pulled the blanket over the pair and wrapped his arms around him.

‘The servants will be in soon, Steve. The sun is over the horizon, they’ll catch us.’

‘Just a few moments, my love. Just stay for a few moments,’ the prince replied, running his fingers through the man’s hair.

Bucky knew he should be leaving, he should be confessing to the prince about his night he spent in the princess’ bed. That just hours before he was inside another. But as Steve’s fingers trailed over his face, he knew he couldn’t leave. He would do anything Steve asked him, the other man knew that. Maybe that’s why he had asked him to stay, even though they both knew they shouldn’t. But with his wedding fast approaching, tomorrow morning he would be marrying her he also knew that this could be the last time he got the chance to hold the other man in his arms like this.

The princess rolled over in her bed, her hand reaching out for a man who wasn’t there. She sat up, letting the sheet fall away from her naked body, the chill in the castle causing goosebumps to form over her skin. The fire was dying slowly in the hearth and she sighed out softly. She winced at the pain that was settling between her legs as she moved to sit up. She wrinkled her nose as she noted the sticky liquid, drying between her legs. Her head spun looking up eagerly as her door opened, hoping beyond hope that it was...who? Who did she want to walk through that door? Steve or Bucky? Who did she want the most? But it was neither men, it was her cousin, Peggy.

‘What are you doing up so early?’ the princess asked, not bothering to cover her naked frame as the other woman stood by the door.

‘Y/N, what have you done?’ she whispered crossing the room to her. 

As the princess collapses in her cousin’s arms, she sobbed into her chest. Peggy stroked her hair as she let her get her tears out. She would not push her any further, until she was ready to speak. Finally the princess sat up, blinking back her tears.

‘I have been a fool,’ she whispered. ‘I have been to eager to...I don’t know. I have been too eager to give my heart away. I thought he loved me, but I have seen how he looks at other women. I gave myself to the prince, completely and truly to him. And I thought I was the only one, but I went to go see him one night and a woman was sneaking out of his room. And I was...I was broken. My heart was broken.’

She bit down on her lip, ‘And I thought I could never repair it until I saw him. And I...I kissed him after a fight with Steve. And at first I thought I was just trying to get back at the prince for breaking my heart. But I realised that I care about him, the same as I care for the prince. But Steve and I, he promised that I was the only woman for him and I thought that I could put him behind me. But I couldn’t stop. I need them both. I want them both. I love them both.’

Peggy was shocked at the younger woman’s candid confession, she did not expect her to tell her that she had not just slept with the prince but another man. She blinked at her cousin, watching her carefully, she did look truly heartbroken. But she didn’t want to believe it.

‘And who did you share your bed with? Do not...Do not tell me you were foolish enough to...’

She nodded her head slowly, ‘I was. I love him.’

Peggy’s eyes widened, her voice no more than a hiss, ‘What if you had been found? With another man in your bed? The prince could have had you beheaded! What if you fall pregnant? Are you truly as stupid as that?’

The princess’ eyes widened in shock. No one had spoken to her like that before in her life and she was taken aback by the harsh tone of her cousin.

‘Peggy!’

‘No, Y/N! You have always been a smart girl, someone who has her head on her shoulders. But this? You are letting your heart rule your head. You will put that other man out of your head. You will not see him again, speak to him or even think of him again. You will marry the prince. You will be Queen and you will give him heirs. You will unite our kingdoms, your father needs you to do this. Your people need you to do this!’

‘And what about what I need?’ she screamed. ‘What about what I want?’

‘You do not get to want things anymore! You have a duty and you’re duty was to your father and your kingdom. And when you marry the prince tomorrow, it will be to him and this kingdom. Stop being foolish. You could be happy.’

She dropped her head, knowing the other woman was right but not willing to admit it just yet.

‘The prince can have whores so can’t-’

‘Why can’t you be a whore?’ Peggy snapped, cutting her cousin off.

‘I love him!’ she screamed. ‘I love Bucky! I’m not going to be his whore!’

‘He treated you like his whore last night, you foolish girl. He got want he wanted and he left you to deal with the consequences. And when you marry the prince, you will be true to him. Because if you are not your head will roll and there will be war.’

‘That is not fair! I deserve to be happy!’

‘You were happy with Prince Steven until just a few days ago! And then you decided to play some foolish game because he did what all men do!’

‘But if someone loves you then they shouldn’t....’

‘The prince does love you, he just, like all men, needs some release. If you marry him you must get used to that.’

‘I am not going to share him with whores!’ she snarled, moving away from Peggy.

‘And you whore yourself to any man who pretends that he loves you!’

‘They do love me! I am not a whore!’ she screamed.

She was shaking at this point with rage, she knew Peggy was right. She could not see Bucky anymore. She would marry Steve and she would be very happy, because she did love him. She just loved more than one person. She never thought that it was possible. Tears began to stream down her face again as she tried to wrap her head around what she was admitting, what she was feeling.

‘Why must life be so cruel?’ she whined.

‘People are dying in the streets, starving and cold, and you complain that you have to become a queen and give up some servant boy?’

‘He’s not a servant,’ she snapped.

‘Then who? A Lord would not keep his mouth quiet enough if he had shared the princess’ bed!’ Peggy scoffed. ‘Do not dwell on men who cannot give you what you are accustomed to.’

‘It’s Sir James,’ she gasped out. ‘He was here last night. I sent for him after I saw Steve with another whore in the gardens. I am a selfish child. But I want them both.’

Peggy gasped when she revealed who she had fallen for, stepping forward to grab her cousin by the arms.

‘You think that the man who is by the prince’s side day in and day out is the best choice for you to get back at the prince with?’ she hissed.

‘I am not using him like that. I care for him. I would not have shared my bed with just anyone.’

Peggy scoffed, ‘You have been a fool, Y/N. And it is you who will pay the price. You could start a war between these two kingdoms because you are being a spoiled child. You need to wash yourself and dress. Put this foolishness behind you - your final fitting for your wedding dress is today. It would do you well to not think of the knight again.’

She kissed her cousin on the head before she left the room. She called for her servants to come and help her wash, they drew her bath and washed her hair. Natasha and Wanda came in to help her dress, the princess noted that Peggy was not there to help her today. When Nat went to tie up her hair, she waved her away. She let her hair fall down around her, inspecting her reflection as she sat there.

‘Leave me,’ she told them, ice in her voice. She paced her room, thinking about what she should do. She knew she needed to speak to Steve. It was only right, she knew she could not hide this secret from him any longer. Not with their wedding just one day away. She knew Peggy was right, that she would have to put this all behind her. She would stay away from him, ask Steve to take a new guard in time. And she would forget about him. She would be happy. She could not and would not be ruled by her heart anymore. Only foolish women were ruled by their hearts. Queens needed to be ruled by their heads, so they were always two steps ahead of any doubters in their lives. She knew this. But why did she not care when she saw Bucky?

She did not bother tying her hair up before heading straight to the prince’s chambers. It was still very early, so he would probably be still in bed or just getting ready for the day ahead. So, she knew he would be in his chambers. And even if he had bedded that woman from the other night, she would be long gone by now. She was a Lord’s daughter, and couldn’t afford to be found in a man’s bed, a man she wasn’t married to.

She held her head high, she could do this, she could do this, she could do this. She would find Bucky later, say that she wasn’t in his right mind when she said those things last night. That she loved the prince, her heart belonged to him and him alone. She was just being foolish when she asked him to run away with her. He hadn’t said yes, anyway. She would put this all in the past.

She took a deep breath before pushing the prince’s chamber door open and she never expected the sight before her. There were the two men that made her heart soar and ache at the same time, lying naked in bed. Steve playing with Bucky’s hair and Bucky tracing patterns over the prince’s skin. She was in shock, the door slammed behind her as she stood there, frozen to the spot. Both men jumped as they looked at the woman before them.

TAG LIST OPEN!

@fairchild21, @bloodyvalentine93, @dangerdolns, @wrthyofluv, @schilj79, @gigistorm, @m0rituri, @marvhellove, @spideydaddyboy, @rhiisnotawitch, @mcuimxgine, @marsnothere, @chloemac86, @slytherinrising, @sexyvixen7, @javapeach, @sergeantjbuckybarnes,  @rainbowkisses31,  @maleclamp, @ka-x-in,  @myrabbitholetoneverland, @thisismyfriend-tree,  @kaylaphantomhive,  @chrisx1987, @aurajitsu,  @jbarnes87​, @savemesteeb​,  @valeriae2903​​, @i-should-probably-be-asleep-rn, @justmesadgirl

[theusurpersdog]

Bastards Looking In

***Spoilers for The Winds of Winter Sample Chapters***

Re-reading Jon’s chapters in A Game of Thrones, I noticed how similar his opening chapter is to Sansa’s (or “Alayne’s”) pre-released chapter from The Winds of Winter.

Both chapters have a very similar mood in that they have a lightheartedness that many chapters in ASoIaF don’t. Jon’s first chapter occurs before many of the tragedies that will befall his family occur, and also before he has his expectations shattered by the Night’s Watch. At this point, he still views it as a noble calling, especially with Uncle Benjen saying things like “Our wife is duty. Our mistress is honor”.

Similarly, Sansa’s chapter from tWoW is much lighter than the incredibly dark tone that is typical of Feast and Dance, as well as most other pre-released Winds chapters (like “Mercy” or “The Forsaken”). Sansa has been living as Alayne for quite some time, and has spent more than a moon’s turn (so about a month) at the Gates of the Moon. While it was nearly impossible to become Alayne inside the Eyrie, where her Aunt Lysa was constantly reminding her that she was a Stark and after her death leaving Sansa haunted by the experience, she can fully become her persona at the Gates of the Moon. The castle reminds her of Winterfell just enough to make her feel like a child again, and her friendship with Myranda Royce helps her fall deeper into the mindset of Alayne, who adopts some of Myranda’s boisterous charm. 

The setting of both chapters is remarkably similar. Winterfell and the Gates of the Moon are both snowy and expecting visitors. King Robert’s entourage has just arrived and Jon is getting plastered at his welcoming feast, while the Gates of the Moon is expecting the 64 best Knights in the Eyrie to compete in the Tourney of the Winged Knights. Just as Robert arriving at Winterfell is a huge occasion and all Starks are expected to be present, it is very important for Sansa to make a good impression when the Waynwoods arrive because it will be her first meeting with Harry the Heir. Both Jon and Sansa’s chapters center around a large feast thrown for guests. While Jon is relegated to the benches alongside squires because Catelyn wants to hide him away, Sansa also isn’t seated on the dais because LIttlefinger’s treatment of his bastard daughter is already under question. 

Now that I’ve established that the tone and setting of both chapters is quite similar, let’s dive into a much more interesting set of parallels: character similarities between Jon and Sansa.  One of the biggest critiques of Jonsa is that “Jon and Sansa aren’t compatible!”, but chapters like these seemingly go out of their way to show how alike the two are.

Firstly, there are many superficial parallels worth addressing. In both chapters, Jon and Sansa are 14yo “bastards” going by a false name, who are secretly heirs (Jon to the Iron Throne, and Sansa to Winterfell). Both also have false fathers who came up with the bastard lie to protect who they really are, since both are on the majority of Westeros’ political hit list (Jon for being Targaryen, and Sansa for killing the King). 

Moving on to deeper character similarities, both have a sense of faux happiness. Jon’s first chapter starts off with this line:

There were times—not many, but a few—when Jon Snow was glad he was a bastard. As he filled his wine cup once more from a passing flagon, it struck him that this might be one of them.

If it seems like Jon is a little too insistent that he’s happy about being removed from the dais, it’s because he is. Further lines in the chapter make it clear that this rejection by Catelyn has poured salt in a constantly open wound:

And he was finding that he had a man’s thirst, to the raucous delight of the youths around him, who urged him on every time he drained a glass. They were fine company, and Jon relished the stories they were telling, tales of battle and bedding and the hunt. He was certain that his companions were more entertaining than the king’s offspring.

Jon is getting plastered for the first time, while looking on bitterly at his siblings as they enjoy the feast with Princes and a Princess:

He had the princess Myrcella on his arm… He decided she was insipid

Sansa, two years older, drew the crown prince, Joffrey Baratheon…Jon did not like Joffrey’s pouty lips or the bored, disdainful way he looked at Winterfell’s Great Hall

He is clearly very jealous of Ned and Robert’s trueborn children being treated with much more importance than he is (gotta love the irony there). Yet, Jon is intent on ignoring those feelings and pretending like everything is okay – sitting with the squires is better than sitting on the dais! Not until Uncle Benjen pokes the hornet’s nest that is drunk Jon does he realize how upset he is. 

Similarly, Sansa uses her false identity as Alayne as a convenient reason to push down and suppress her own trauma, which allows her to be a much happier version of herself than she’s been in a very long time: 

 Alayne loved it here. She felt alive again, for the first since her father... since Lord Eddard Stark had died.

Already Alayne’s façade of happiness is starting to crack as she is reminded of Ned’s beheading, and her identity as Alayne cracks further when she thinks of running with Jeyne Poole and Arya through Winterfell’s courtyard. Just as Jon is pretending everything is great, Sansa is pretending like she really can be Alayne and distance herself from her family. But all of that baggage is sitting right on the periphery, and as we’ll see for both of them, it only takes small provocation to bring it straight to center.

Living in the unique position of being bastards, Jon and Sansa view the experience very similarly. Jon has felt inferior all his life, a feeling that is backed up by Catelyn and Theon’s treatment of him as well as his assumption that Ned is too ashamed of his mother to even tell him. So he has one very strong conviction - NEVER father a bastard:

Jon felt anger rise up inside him. “I’m not your son!”

Benjen Stark stood up. “More’s the pity.” He put a hand on Jon’s shoulder. “Come back to me after you’ve fathered a few bastards of your own, and we’ll see how you feel.”

Jon trembled. “I will never father a bastard,” he said carefully. “Never!” He spat it out like venom.

Sansa has a similar conversation with Sweet Robin:

"The Lord of the Eyrie can do as he likes. Can't I still love you, even if I have to marry her? Ser Harrold has a common woman. Benjicot says she's carrying his bastard."

Benjicot should learn to keep his fool's mouth shut. "Is that what you would have from me? A bastard?" She pulled her fingers from his grasp. "Would you dishonor me that way?"

Both of them know what it’s like to be a bastard and face that prejudice, and would never want to place that burden on a child. It’s also what sends both of them running in tears later in the chapters.

After Jon gets in an argument with Uncle Benjen, he needs some fresh air:

Suddenly he realized that the table had fallen silent, and they were all looking at him. He felt the tears begin to well behind his eyes. He pushed himself to his feet. “I must be excused,” he said with the last of his dignity. He whirled and bolted before they could see him cry.

Being relegated to the back of the feast hall and facing Uncle Benjen’s rejection is too much to handle. Being around all the people – Catelyn, Theon, Cersei, Joffrey, etc – who view him as lesser just because he’s a bastard cuts deep, and he can’t be there anymore.

And it’s a moment that parallels nicely with Sansa meeting Harry the Heir:

Ser Harrold looked down at her coldly. "Why should it please me to be escorted anywhere by Littlefinger's bastard?"

…

Alayne could feel the blood rushing to her face. No tears, she prayed. Please, please, I must not cry.

It’s a very sensitive subject for both of them, and they react identically. 

Narratively speaking, a strong connection has been established between Jon and Sansa through their status as bastards, and Sansa’s latest chapter just strengthens the parallels.

[rebaobsessivelywrites]

Lies an Ties that Bind Us

You can find this series here on AO3.

Fandom: Leverage (TV) and Highlander: the Series (TV)

Series Description: A series that will be five or more one-shots about one or more of the Leverage members being immortal. They will stand alone.

Series Warnings: cannon-typical violence, temporary character death, character death, original characters

One-shot word count: 6,328

One-shot warnings: nothing I can think of... (no OCs seen in this one)

Summary: Nate and Jim have been friends for a very long time. They just don't always know how to show it. Now, they're each neck deep in their own form of trouble, but they can only help each other so much.

Please read the fic! Masks and Pasts that Haunt Us, more to come, master list. And let me know if you want to be tagged.

Nate jogged through the lobby of the impressive sky scraper, trusting Eliot to handle the terrorist goons, focused on a single goal. A steady buzz rattled just behind his eyes, guiding him as he exited a final door to the sight of a black sedan pulling away with purpose. As far as Nate was concerned, the car could be a minivan and he’d still know that it was that car that he needed to follow.

Thinking on his feet, Nate slipped past the valet and into a newly parked, and rather elegant, red sports car. It would do. Once he was speeding down the road, he spared a thought for the con.

“Ok, we’re done; everyone out,” Nate ordered, certain his com would pick it up, “Hardison, Eliot’s here— ground floor —find him, free Sophie. Everyone’s in the extraction points.”

“Woah, woah, Eliot’s here?” Hardison’s voice echoed in his ear.

“Yeah, just follow the trail of terrorists, you won’t miss him,” the mastermind assured his hacker.

“Where you going?” the hacker moved on to the next issue.

Nate allowed himself a shadow of a smile, “I’m going after Sterling.”

“Where’s he going?” Hardison persisted.

“Well, he’s escaping with the target.”

“How’d Sterling get the weight?” Parker pitched in, sounding out of breath.

“No. The real target.” Satisfied his team had the situation under control, he didn’t wait for any sort of response. He simply pulled his earpiece out with one hand a stuffed it in his pocket, before refocusing on the task at hand and the humming in his head. He didn’t need an audience for this.

There. A black sedan—that was the one. Nate hit the gas, in hot pursuit. As though sensing his renewed pursuit, the sedan whirled around a corner. Unperturbed, the mastermind hit the break and spun the wheel, hurling around the corner at break-neck speed, tires screeching as they slid across the pavement underneath him. Ahead he could see the black sedan accelerating and swerving, paying no mind to the yellow lines. Tongue pressed against his teeth in concentration, Nate gunned the gas and shifted the stick, rapidly gaining in his (stolen) flashy red sports car.

The two cars toyed with each other, swerving back and forth as the black sedan repeatedly blocked the sports car from slipping past. Finally, though, Nate saw and opening and hit the gas with all he was worth, speeding past the larger car in a blur. For two heart beats Nate continued straight, before hitting the break with even more gusto than he had the gas, swerving to a stop directly in the path of the sedan. Calmly, the thief turned in his seat to observe his quarry grind to a stop mere feet from where he sat.

With a faint smirk gracing his lips, still riding high on adrenaline, Nate stepped from his car as the other driver mirrored his actions. The scowl on Sterling’s face was legendary. Nate could count on one hand the number of times he had seen this particular flavor of the sour man’s displeasure. See, this flavor was the most real and the most dangerous of them all.

“You going to leave without saying goodbye?” Nate poked, adjusting his suit jacket.

Sterling’s scowl deepened, darkening the harsh lines outlined on his face in the scorching sunlight. “Nate,” the man greeted his old friend with something just short of a growl. This was the most righteous of anger—the anger they only ever showed for family.

But, Nate being Nate, he had no sense of self-preservation (being immortal did that to you), and kept poking, “Honestly, Sterling. I was hoping we were done with this.”

“And what, exactly,” the Interpol agent enunciated in his ever so careful accent, “is ‘this’?”

“The lies, Jim, the lies,” the mastermind leaned back onto his stolen vehicle, easily mimicking relaxation and concealing the slight pang of hurt he hadn’t even known he had been harboring.

“I had to get my informant out,” Sterling argued, eyes narrowing slightly, “When Olivia’s mother died, she turned on Livingston— fed Interpol everything we needed.”

“Stop insulting me, Sterling,” the thief cut in, causing Sterling’s eyebrows to shoot up.  “I knew she was the informant as soon as I found the source of the buzz.” Nate paused and searched his friend’s face, “Did you really think I wouldn’t figure out she was your daughter?”

Sterling’s face was suddenly and completely blank. “You know that’s not true,” the other immortal murmured, uncharacteristically subdued.

Nate shook his head, his heart giving a twang in sympathy, “It’s true in every way that matters,” he argued just as softly.

Sterling said nothing, his face still painfully blank.

After a beat of silence, Nate sighed, “But, why? You used us, you manipulated the team. You lied to me. Again. Was it too soon to hope for honest friendship? Did last time even qualify?”

Sterling’s jaw ticked. “Would you have come to Dubai if I had told you?” he asked pointedly, trying to redirect the conversation.

“No. No, you know I would have, but that’s not what this is about, Jim.” Once again, Nate emphasized the name. This time, Sterling flinched. It was almost imperceptible, but it was there.

“No. I’m talking about before that,” Nate continued, “Back when we were last friends—this most recent time, when we worked together, drank together, watched each other’s backs….” Nate shut his eyes for a split second, “You had a wife and daughter, and I didn’t know. Why?”

“Because it was my fault they left,” Sterling offered, voice quiet once more, “And I knew it.”

Nate nodded in understanding. “They found out about the Game.” It wasn’t a question.

“Sharron thought it was safer they move on,” Sterling shrugged, “I didn’t argue.”

“Not even for Olivia?”

“She deserved to have a normal life, Nate. I wouldn’t take that from her.”

“What changed?” Nate asked with an honest curiosity, “Besides Livingston being dirty, that is.”

Sterling shrugged, “Sharron died; Olivia reached out.”

“And?” he pushed off the car to stand straight once more.

Sterling’s gaze snapped up to meet his. “And what?”

“We both know you’d need more than that, Greg,” Nate veiled the old barb against the MacGregor clan with a jovial tone.

“Don’t call me that,” he hissed and took a step forward, a brogue slipping into his voice as he continued, “I will’na allow you to insult ma’ clan ev’n now—”

“Easy, Jim,” Nate interrupted, “Just tell me what has you spooked.”

Sterling’s lips thinned.

Nate scowled, “I just want to help, you stubborn bastard! You have a new pre-immortal student—you can’t be looking over your shoulder and fielding challenges right now!”

“This does not concern you, Neil,” the other man growled, carefully enunciating once again.

Nate huffed angrily, “Be logical, Jim! You can’t—”

Their slowly escalating argument was effectively cut short by a car door opening and slamming shut.

Sterling whirled around, “No, get back in the car—”

“He didn’t have a choice! You can’t challenge him—he didn’t have a choice!” Olivia interjected, attempting to diffuse the situation she perceived, “It’s not safe here. I was in danger and he’s my dad. I don’t care what you people say; he’s my dad and I need him. What wouldn’t you do to save your kid?!”

“Olivia!” Sterling admonished her, likely knowing how hard that barb hit Nate, how it skewered him like a hot rod, bringing the all too recent death of Sam back to the fore-front of his awareness.

Olivia glared at her father, tears glistening in her eyes, “No! This isn’t ok, dad. You were just protecting me from Livingston and Maycher!”

“Charles Maycher?” Nate asked sharply. The man was a well-known headhunter who went after pre-Immortals, capturing, torturing, killing, and finally—sometimes after years—beheading them. The only reason he was still in the Game was because he had no honor, using guns and poison indiscriminately, and was unnaturally slippery and good at disappearing.

Olivia and Sterling’s reactions were telling; Olivia blanched, and Sterling instinctually moved closer to her.

Nate let out a colorful curse in old Irish Gaelic. “James bloody MacGregor,” he hissed, “I will not allow you to do this by yourself.”

“And I told you, Neil,” the other immortal hissed right back, “This does not concern you!”

“Of course this concerns me!” Nate snapped, “I will not allow my oldest friend to be stabbed in the back by a snake!”

“And how, exactly, would you explain it to you little team?” Sterling sneered.

Nate threw his hands up, “I’ll figure out something, Jim, just let me help you.”

“You don’t train new immortals.”

“I helped train you.”

“And you were a shit teacher.”

“Then… let me help provide protection.”

“No, Neil, you aren’t up for that—we both know you’re not.”

“Bullshit.”

“You won’t leave your team, and you know it.”

“I’ve left them before.”

“They won’t let you go.”

“I’ll make them.”

“You still wouldn’t be ready.”

“To hell I wouldn’t!”

“What about Sam?!”

Olivia’s eyes had gone wide, her eyes bouncing between the two immortals like she was watching a tennis match. As a deafening silence descended between the two, she took in a deep shocked breath.

Nate’s jaw was clenched tight and he was glaring a hole in his friend’s forehead, eyes beginning to moisten. Sterling swallowed hard, and carefully collected himself before continuing.

“Can you honestly tell me, Nate,” Sterling emphasized his friend’s current identity, “that you’d be ready to fully get back into the Game so soon after Sam died?”

Nate’s voice was flat, “Fine. You win.” He took a deep breath, regaining some of his fire, “But I still won’t let you do this by yourself.”

Sterling rolled his eyes. “What, exactly, do you suggest?”

“Call Mac.”

“What? I most certainly will not!”

Nate was not surprised by Sterling’s knee-jerk reaction. “I’m not arguing with you about this, Jim. Either you call MacLeod, or I will.”

Sterling narrowed his eyes. “Which one are you talking about?” he ventured cautiously.

Nate rolled his eyes, “Duncan.”

“No.”

“Jim…”

“No.”

“Dad…” Olivia surprised them both; they had forgotten she was there. “If this Duncan can help us, shouldn’t we ask?”

Sterling looked like he had sucked a lemon.

“Look, I know you and MacLeod have had problems for centuries, but I know for a fact that he considers you a friend. He’s a great teacher, and an even better swordsman. He can watch your back.”

Sterling clamped his eyes shut, and Nate was certain he had heard what was unspoken: because I can’t.

“Fine,” he growled, echoing Nate, “You win.” He opened his eyes and glared at his old friend, “Tell the Highlander Olivia and I are headed to Paris.”

“Thank you, Jim.”

“Save it, Byrne.”

Nate wrinkled his nose at that, but let it slide. “Listen, can you do one thing for me?”

“I thought I already was,” Sterling snarked back.

Nate stepped forward and held out a folded piece of paper. Sterling quirked and eyebrow, but accepted it. “What’s this?”

“It’s a name. Give me everything you got on him. Everything.”

Something in his voice must have tipped the other immortal off, because he narrowed his eyes in concern. “What sort of mess have you gotten yourself into, Neil?”

Nate gave a wry chuckle and turned to leave, “A mess that’s a great deal less permanent than yours. Watch your head, MacGregor.”

“Always, Byrne.” Sterling promised his friend’s retreating back, “Always.”

Nate didn’t hear; his mind was already on to the next problem. He needed to go wrangle his team back home and track down a highlander’s phone number. After that, well… then he’d worry about that name.

[allbrainsnosense]

A little pre-canon Jonsa fic!

This does a jump; the second half is post-canon or AU, and of course the beginning is pre-canon AU.

I also am not totally sure how old I picture the kiddos, but Jon and Robb are still young enough to play silly make-believe games with their little sister, so take of that what you will.

****

He tries not to get jealous—though at first Jon isn’t quite sure just what the knot in his stomach is when he watches Sansa bestow a gentle kiss to Robb’s cheek for saving her from the “ferocious dragon,” as portrayed by an energetic Bran. Sansa coos over Robb affectionately, keeping up her role as fair maiden, and Robb kneels before her like her noble knight. It’s a game the siblings had all played many times before—sans Arya, who refuses to be Robb’s “noble steed” as Sansa demands—and Jon has always found himself an onlooker to the merry play-acting that occurs in the godswood.

Sansa’s clear blue eyes flit away from Robb momentarily and land on him, sulking off to the side, near the weirwood tree. He can almost hear her sweet voice reprimanding him for pouting so much; Sansa never liked his tendency to brood.

“Jon?” she calls over to him. “Won’t you come join us? We’re playing the most wonderful game!”

“Why? So I can be Robb’s ‘noble steed?’” The bitterness and bite in his voice surprises even him, and Robb gives him a strange look. Jon quickly reminds himself that it is all just a game, and Robb could never truly be Sansa’s knight in shining armor, as he is her brother and will marry another noble girl, like how their father married Lady Catelyn. The thought that Jon too would not be allowed to marry Sansa settles in his brain for a moment, and he quickly shakes it away; he is her half-brother and a bastard, an even far more shameful match for a fine lady such as Sansa.

Sansa is looking at him thoughtfully when she replies. “You can be the knight if you like,” she offers. Robb leaves, as he is late enough as it is to his archery lesson, but eyes Jon wearily.

“RAHHHH!” Bran shouts as he jumps between the two. He pushes Jon backward, and, ever the diligent older brother, Jon pretends that he was knocked off his feet from the shove. Sansa gasps, covering her mouth with her hand, but she can’t hide a small smile that’s appeared on her face.

“Oh, help!” Sansa cries in exaggerated, fake distress. “Someone save me!”

Jon picks up the wooden sword Robb had abandoned, and soundly defeats the dragon holding Sansa hostage. Bran crumples to the ground, groaning in faux agony and giggling as well at the fun game they are playing.

“My lady,” Jon kneels before Sansa. “I have slain the dragon.” His palms are sweaty on the wooden hilt of the play-sword, and Jon is half-afraid he’s going to faint when Sansa throws her willowy arms around his shoulders, hugging him gently.

“My hero!” Sansa cheers. “And for your valor, Ser, I shall reward you with a kiss.”

Jon’s heart is pounding in his chest as she leans toward him, and before her lips can reach his cheek his head jerks toward her and their lips brush ever so softly. Sansa gasps and Jon’s eyes widen—he’d never kissed a girl before, even though Robb had kissed his fair share of the handmaidens and Theon... Jon didn’t even know what all Theon had done before.

They both jerk away, cheeks red and gazes averted from the other to hide their shame. Bran is watching them curiously, but thankfully doesn’t understand that Jon should not have kissed Sansa.

“Can we play again?” Bran asks.

Sansa looks momentarily at Jon, her eyes shining with something that he can’t quite place. “No, Bran,” she tells him sternly. “It’s time for your lessons with Maester Luwin. Let’s go back inside.” Jon remains behind, standing beneath the weirwood tree.

*****

Sansa recalls that day many times afterward; in the godswood of King’s Landing when she should be dreaming of kissing Joffrey, when she’s lying in bed at night listening to her aunt make love to Littlefinger, and when she’s led to the godswood of Winterfell by Theon to marry a monster.

And Jon would have slain that monster if you’d asked, she thinks fondly.

Sansa remembers her joy when Jon informs her that he beheaded Janos Slynt at the Wall, and the thought that Jon had slain one of her monsters stirred the childhood memory in her once again when they were reunited.

The memory returns to her once more as she stands beneath the weirwood with Jon once more, a real sword at his hip instead of a play one, and a heavy cloak of red and black in his hands. He is not her knight in shining armor, no, but instead her king and cousin. The smallfolk and nobles call him the “Savior of Westeros” and “The Prince That Was Promised” and all other sorts of Targaryen-sounding titles and praises. But for Sansa, he is one thing and one thing only.

Her hero.

[jakiphyr]

Jak (re)plays FE2  [Part 01]

Awright!  It’s been a good four years since I’ve last touched Gaiden fully (late Dec 2013 - Feb 2014), so I’ll be doing a challenge this time around.

This LP is brought here today by HistoryoftheEmblem’s Gaiden event Kickstarter. So feel free to join the ride, or follow along!  Now, without further ado...

Introduction

I will be doing a Gaiden Novels Canon Playthrough challenge.  I will explain what this is, then lay out the rules that are styled similar to a draft now that I look at this back over.

My Motives (a.k.a. why am I doing this) 

This run is based on Fire Emblem: Gaiden’s two-parter novels that were released back in 1993.  Scans of illustrations can be found starting here, the rest are linked from there for those interested.

After @azebraslife ‘s discovery posts about the craziness that is Silque+Kliff subplot being half-siblings, Kamui dying to a necrodragon, possessed!Delthea killing Luthier and snapping out from that…

I meant to record my in-depth findings/summaries from what I read so far off my twitter live log in June but forgot to write them down as more than just quick blurbs.  This liveplay event will help me on being continuously motivated to read these books, from start to finish.  So I’ll be using my posts to record these summary translations, so expect those inserted throughout my LP entries.

Which is OK, the novels are easy enough to read as a beginner for the most part and makes for a fun experience.

It’s time to dig whatever hidden gems there are (and there’s plenty, I’m sure).

Rules, to keep myself organized and for followers to know what I’m doing:

(1)  Whoever dies in the novels dies, and stays dead.  No exceptions.  If you know exactly who dies from the scan posts I’ve made... a~yup, those will be dying at the same story/battle points whenever possible.

(2)  To branch off from 1, if revival springs are used, I will use them for that character to be revived from the dead.  AFAIK, the author didn’t use any, but I’m hoping for a pleasant surprise.

(3)  I’m allowing myself the old-fashion method of the Mila Turnwheel — save states.  Someone dies when they aren’t supposed to?  Reset.  There’re likely other scenarios I’ll keep a mind for when replicating novel events in my play.

(4)  Whatever the novel does — give certain classes to villagers, equip certain items to units, kill a boss with a certain strategy, choice recruitments, lionhead statboost uses — I must replicate those events and actions in my run, thus making it a challenge.  If something’s almost or actually impossible, well... I’ll figure a way around it by having the next closest thing to it.  If nothing’s specified, I’ll use my own discretion (and hope it doesn’t conflict later).

That’s the basis, for now.  I don’t want to restrict myself too tightly so I’ll be a little more flexible — unless, of course, the novels dictates otherwise

The Game

Okay!  Now with that out of the way, let’s begin.

I’ll be going Easy Mode for the ease of training female mages to level 20 to not be hellish again like on my first blind run.

And now... we get to Act 1.

But wait!  The novels have a couple of things to say before I can truly start.

It has a backstory and some pre-game exposition with our favourite Deliverance gang—their own Rise of the Deliverance DLC in novel form.  Let’s have a look.

—

[Novel]

Prologue:

Greek mythology-esque poetic literature that dragons are gods and how their actions affect weather/nature.  A roar brings the rain and lightning storms, humanity questioning why the heavens are always angry.  As the two dragons have always fought as if they were born to, and birthed Valencia to be a reflection of their souls (North vs South fighting mirrors the Duma vs Mila conflict).

It gives a history lesson of how Rigel and Zofia came to be, describing Duma and Mila like oil and water put in a single vase, eventually growing murky and bad as it mixes from being stabilized prior. And now Valencia faces the worst war in its history.

—

Chapter 1 - Liberation Army Part 1-1: 6 Fake Death Pills

[ This entire part is pre-game, contains graphic depictions of events. Warnings for characters contemplating suicide, gritty themes, blood, and graphic descriptions of murders. ]

Starts off with a visible blood splatter on the polished stone floors of Zofia Castle, the military fill the halls leading to the throne room.  An old man with pale skin, has long, hairy legs, and a long white beard, sits on the tall golden throne with a sword lodged in his bleeding chest.  King Lima IV stabbed by none other than Desaix.

Lima IV still draws breath, barely living as he’s groaning painfully and flailing an arm searching for support (but gets none).  His last words condemn Desaix for being ambitious, having stolen the sword of the royal family which he had taken out at the scene as his second sword.  (The royal sword is apparently forged with steel.)  Desaix mocks the king, and his army begins to chant as he takes the next course of action.

The royal sword was then swung to behead Lima IV, the bloodied head rolls to the stone floor, his half-opened eyes looking up at Desaix with resentment.  The usurper declares the rest of the living royal family to be thrown into dungeons or killed.  The defense rebellion broke out immediately after and utterly failed, their numbers whittled down brutally.  Desaix’s reformed royal army heed all responsibility on throwing rebels and other captives in the dungeon (which hasn’t been used for many years in the peaceful kingdom of Zofia).

The anti-Desaix faction’s numbers continue to decline until six (named) knights remained with very few others who were still fighting vigorously.  It is revealed that the six are Clive, Mathilda, Clair, Lukas, Python, and Forsyth.  Eventually, they were captured and got locked up in the cold dungeons.  Frustrated by their circumstances, Clive grieves that death is preferable for the sake of their knightly pride over being tortured by the usurpers.  An old(ish) soldier with graying hair starts talking to Clive (he is the generic looking man in the first illustration).

The six really want to die, as they’re depressed, but the generic soldier makes a deal with them: drink the 6 “death” medicine pills he had made (and calls them lucky he has that many), which will put them in heavy sleep for four hours.  He’ll disguise himself in the enemy’s uniform, cart their “dead” bodies to the graveyard catacombs full of Terrors (the Deliverance Hideout), and buy them time to rebuild forces to liberate Zofia.

He calls six names, the novel describes each one as the following: Clive, the young chief knight, Clair, the Pegasus Knight who was rewarded good luck by the gods for riding a temna, Lukas, a hot-blooded soldier whose spear strikes like a lightning bolt, Forsyth, his character is different from Lukas, whose calm judgment is true, Python, a genius archer whose bow technique is clear [and shoots] with anger, and Mathilda, the female knight who has a brave soul, as beautiful as the night sky, and is as good as Clive.

Clive rejects the offer, shouting it won’t fly with them as knights, still insistent on preferring death.  Mathilda and Clair nod in agreement with them.  A tearful Forsyth insists on all of them dying together as was their knightly vow if it came down to it, the gray-haired man calls them foolish.

The soldier persuades Clive and the others a little more, until finally, Clive makes the first move on reaching for the “death” pill, which then the other five immediately follow suit.  The man tells the knights about Mycen, a holy knight who was banished by Desaix ages past and currently living in Ram, a village located at the cape of the southernmost tip of Zofia.  He tells them to form the liberation army together with Mycen and free Zofia from the hands of Desaix.  The six proceed to swallow their pills and “died” on the spot.

The consumed medicine causes a foul odor to fill the prisons, signaling some had died to the unaware.  The guards drag their six bodies out of the dungeons, sending them to the caves on the far coast from the castle. 

Upon waking, they salvage the caves for weapons, arrows, armour, and garments.  They also attempt to cover up the cave’s entrance with rocks and leaves to keep Desaix’s men from finding the location again.  Lukas was chosen as the messenger because he can hide himself the best from being captured, he is given a map of Zofia that was found and the journey would take three nights.  Lukas and Forsyth hug it out before patting each other’s backs with fists, then Lukas departs.  Clair follows Lukas out of the cave and mentions she is going to find her pegasus.

Forsyth and Clive have strategy talks while waiting for Clair for return and talking about accommodating Mycen.  Python’s polishing his arrows.  Mathilda returns with urgent grim news that the royal army has found their hideout, rushing them to go deeper into the thin, narrow caves.  Meanwhile, Clair did not hear the loud distant yells from Desaix’s army descending upon the caves, chasing her fellow soldiers.

—

[Game]

Whew, apologies for the length so far.  It was to set up the atmosphere of how the chaos will unfold in the future.

If Gaiden’s character endings weren’t potentially depressing enough on their own, we get them from the very beginning...  

So I suppose from that cliffhanger, that was how Clair and Mathilda get captured, which is different from Shadows of Valentia’s depiction where Mathilda was taken hostage before Lukas left, and Clair got kidnapped after his departure for Ram.

These fills in the fe2′s story gaps are interesting to note (as well as the author’s portrayals of the RGB trio’s personalities).

Okay, back to the game...

Act 1 will begin in the next post.  (This one is already long enough, and the next part’s 6 pages long.  In comparison, part 1-1′s was ten pages long.)

To be continued...

—

→ Next installment: Yo, Alm! Listen to this guy! (3x)

[asksythe]

Original story concept: global temporal crisis

So, this story concept happened entirely by accident. A friend of mine (@erimies https://www.fanfiction.net/u/5374016/erimies , yes, for you Naruto fans out there, that Erimies of Clan of Samsara and I didn’t sign up for this) has been sharing her original story ideas with me. We do this a lot. Just bounce ideas around and do snapshot world building speed battles (it’s tote battles! You can’t tell me otherwise!!). So today we talked about an old idea she had left on the burner for awhile. Her idea involved temporal pocket shenanigans and magical world (of the fantastic science variety). I won’t go too deep into it because it’s her idea and maybe one day we will all get to read it in a book. But my ADD ass apparently forgot completely about the original fantasy setting and assumed that the temporal crisis happened in our current real world instead and … because as usual, I’m like a rabid dog being thrown a world building hook bone, I just went completely crazy and before I knew it (and before she could type ‘wait a minute. Wrong setting! Wrong genre!! Stop! Stop!), I had already written the basic premise for a completely different story also involving temporal shenanigans and global scoped world building (and yes, I flooded her tumblr message app with 99+ messages in under 15 minutes. It happens a lot, I’m proud to say!).   

And well, what do you know? After some sheepish back and forth and mutual marveling of each other’s story ideas, I (or rather we because I made sure she was ok with this) decided to type it down and post it. Why? Because… well… because I’m the kind of writers that tote subscribe to the practice of sharing ideas and premises. I like to bounce ideas and concepts around with other people. I think it makes for much richer and more varied concepts and premises. And I would like to hear other people’s takes on concepts, see how different people view it differently. I don’t get possessive over creative ideas and concepts (well… mostly I guess). My boss told me that that’s bad habit for a published author, bad for business and all that but… eh… I guess I can’t change who I am. I just like to share you know? I think the more merrier (or bigger / more mutated /more fun, as ideas go).

So, without further ado, here it is:

I. Premise: our current world, as in, today, May 18th, 2017, Gregorian Calendar, the world is suddenly hit by an unexplainable phenomenon. For a split second, time stops moving for our planet. And when the next second arrives, it splits, branches, implodes in on itself. Our time zones fracture and warp and create bubbles within bubbles. One clock becomes a hundred thousand, each moving to its own rhythm. The next thing we know, our world is fractured into countless temporal zones. Time moves wildly in each of these zones/pockets. In some, it moves far slower than it should. In others, it moves far faster. It rewinds, warps. There are nations where the flow of time goes backward, and then forward, and then backward, winding around itself. The natural world does not escape the effect of the fractured temporal zones. Forests become deserts in a matter of days (the concept of days is fast approaching either an end or transformation too). Mountains rise from the sea. The ice caps enlarge and expand into the territory of northern Europe.

In the human world, the crisis is unprecedented. In the span of a second, global communication, trade, transportation, and the world wide web all immediately cease. Pandemonium erupts as people swiftly transition from confusion to disbelief, to panic.

What is this? A natural cosmic phenomenon? Terrorist action? Alien attack? Scientific experiments gone horribly wrong? Divine reckoning?

Nobody knows. Nobody even has so much as a hint. In their panic, people look for someone to blame. But time waits for none, least of all now when all of time has gone haywire. Our current world is one that is built on the foundation of global trade and communication and now that all of those have ceased, the world is on the precipice of a global collapse. In some nations, wars skid to a stop as both sides is rendered inoperable. In others, the sparks of revolts lit the skies in fire and ashes (looking at you, Venezuela, Zimbabwe, etc...). In some nations, people dread the onset of mass starvation as their agricultural demand far exceeds their output. In others, machines start failing as the national oil reserve dips lower and lower.   

This is the story of our world in crisis and the approaching new world order as each nation on our Earth attempt to weather the fallout of the temporal crisis and muddle their way into this new world!  

II. With this setting established, now let’s go into world building from there (hah! World building on top the basis of our real world!). Based on economic and scientific principles, four factors determine whether any one nation can survive the initial fallout and thrive afterward:

1. Agricultural bases and resources.

2. Oil; the lifeblood of modern industry

3. Central government stability

4. Temporal sciences and research.

Factors 1 and 3 determine whether a nation can survive. In order to survive, you need to be able to feed the population and avoid mass starvation and the panic that ensues from such. You also need to be able to maintain law and order. In the time of crisis, opportunistic factions may seek to overthrow the current government, leading to violence, bloodshed, and possible civil wars. For countries with divisive issues or with public unrest, this will be particularly hard.

On the other hand, factors 2 and 4 will determine whether a nation will thrive in the new world. Without oil, you will be pushed back to pre-industrialization economy, which means that a massive portion of the population will fall into poverty and any developmental prospects will die stillborn. Oil is especially vital to maintaining an economy now that the global economy has collapsed and each nation must seek to remain self-sufficient. Other sources of energy may lessen the pressure of oil (e.g. wind, thermal, solar, etc…). However, since the majority of our global industrial bases have yet to transition to clean/hybrid energy and such transition is now too costly in this crisis, oil remains the main source of fuel for the economy.

The last factor, temporal science is the only way humanity can hope to make sense of the crisis and this new natural phenomenon of their world. Current researches on temporal sciences and temporal energy harvest are still nascent and a hundred percent theoretical. However, the crisis has supplied ample opportunities for testing. Countries with existing researchs on temporal sciences will have a definite edge as they quickly learn the ins and outs of the temporal zones, exploit them (e.g. navigate and energy harvest), and perhaps find out the root reason for the crisis.   

III. A brief look into several nations in crisis:

1. China:.... is in a bad place…

The current China already has issues with public unrest and maintaining stability and a united cultural identity (e.g. what with the suppression of ethnic and religious minority, the overly centralized government, the bulky bureaucratic machine, the non-existent democratic process, widespread corruption, the widening gap between the rich and the poor, the uneven development between provinces, with some provinces not that different from first world countries neighboring provinces that would not look out of place among war-torn third world nations. Their vast land puts even more pressure on efforts to maintain stability and order.) It’s quite likely that the centralized government will be swiftly beheaded once some factions start gaining a foothold and communication / security remain frozen.

Their oil reserve is not so good either. Compared to other nations, their reserve is not small. However, it is not sufficient for their massive economic machine. They are known as the factory of the world, and such title carries weight. In February 2017, China oil import already hit 37.8 million ton (aka 8.286 million barrels per day). Without this imported oil, total economic collapse is imminent.  

Agriculture-wise, their situation is… uneven. Decades of non-existent pollution-control policy have led to massive tracts of Chinese territory being ravaged beyond hope of recovery in our life time, thus rendering their potential agricultural yield to zero. However, China is vast, and with good management and labour allocation, they can hope to avoid starvation and widespread panic.

Temporal science and research: currently to my knowledge, they have none. Due to purposefully shortened development time, the state of sciences in China is fairly unevent. Chinese government deliberately encourages progress in hot scientific disciplines (e.g. weapons, energy, heavy industry, IT, medicines) while ignoring other disciplines with less immediate practical uses.

2. Russia: a mystery within a mystery.

Heh… I don’t know much about Russia. But a world game with no mention of great Russia? Impossible. Russia simply is too large and too influential to be ignored (also they have way too many nuclear warheads). That said, we do know that they are fine in the oil department. Agriculture-wise, they are likely to be ok too. Russia is fairly self-sufficient. Temporal research science… well…probably yes… because cold war and stuff and possible exotic weapon development.

On the other hand, Russia has a very centralized government and extremely low democracy index score (coming in at 3.24 out of 10 on the global democracy index compiled by the UK-based Economist Intelligence Unit and designated an authoritarian government) with ongoing issues over freedom of press and oppression of minority. With this crisis, it’s likely that this authoritarian rule will be challenged by opportunistic factions. Only time will tell if the great Russia will be able to weather the immediate fall-out of the temporal crisis.

3. The United States of America:

…. Is united no more.

Tadadaadadadadada….

No really, you guys have deep and insidious divisive issues. From half-way across the world, I see people from different parties demonizing each other and good people being separated along religious, ethnic, and political party line. With this crisis and the current White House, you can’t convince me that folks are going to keep their sane cap on. America’s vast territory and distinct cultural identities  across different states and regions will also be a minus for the united and stability factor. Besides which earlier this year your democracy index score just fell below 8, marking you as a flawed democracy. Also, way too many trigger-happy folks with guns and bullets in their hands. And that’s not mentioning racial friction. Good luck with the crisis, folks! Taleh hoo!!

That said though, US is good as far as oil and energy resources go. With their current reserves and expanding shale oil industry as well as a thriving alternative energy source industry, the US won’t see a collapse based on lack of fuel and energy anytime soon.

Agriculture-wise, they are good too as not only do they have a large agriculture industry, their land is still comparatively virgin next to the soils that have been cultivated and farmed for millennia in Europe and Asia.

Temporal sciences and researches: yes… very… but again, uneven due to vast territory. American territory itself is divided into countless temporal zones so likely we will see the start of many small nations and likely collapse of a great one. Having large tracts of land is a minus on control and unity issues, who knew eh?

4. Europe (sing me a song, beautiful Europa!!!)

Has much the same issue with America in terms of centralized government (Brussel this time) and different cultural / ethnic identities that stand in the way of unison. Racial tension is also on the rise due to Islamophobia and fear of terrorist attacks. In the initial fallout, confusion will reign as Brussel is separated from the rest of Europe. Without swift actions from the authority, the European Union faces the risk of implosion. But then again, Europe has pretty good democracy index score so maybe it won’t be so bad?

In terms of oil reserves, hmm, not bad. However, the issue lies with the uneven allocation of oil. Norway holds the largest oil reserves and in this new world setting that is rapidly heading towards a ‘every nation for itself’ scenario, will be loathed to let go of an edge. Without good diplomacy and concession, tension and conflict may arise. That’s not to mention the cut-off of communication and transportation as Europe is trapped in its own myriad pockets of temporal zones. However, many European countries are fairly far along in terms of conversion from oil-based industry to clean energy-based industry so really this factor should have less weight for Europe.

Temporal science: yes. Europe as a whole has larger grants and investment into scientific researches than America. Now is the time to reap that reward! Could this be the second coming of the European Golden Age? Only time will tell!!!

5. North Korea (because why not? Everybody likes to talk about that one poor country with the big gun and trigger happy fingers right?)

Good bye, NK, it’s been nice knowing you.

Total collapse, likely in a matter of months if not weeks. Despite its healthy stock of warheads and other tools of war, North Korea survives by foreign aids. Infamously known by economist as the world’s worst economy, North Korea receives millions of dollars of foreign aids every year. Despite its hefty investment into weapons, it does not actually produce enough food for its own population and has had several famines and mass starvations within the last 5 years.

Without foreign aid (due to cut communication and transportation), the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (DPRK) will swiftly collapse when massive portions of its own population starve to death. There will be widespread panic and violence as a dieing government struggles to maintain control over a panicking/berserking civilian population. Unlike previously, this time, the elite ruling group likely will not be able to escape out of the nation due to cut-off global transportation. If desperation seizes the day and the warhead codes fall into unwise hand, we may see the start of the collapse of the Korean peninsula as weapons stockpiled for some hypothetical war against the West go up in their own backyard.

…Really, I feel sorry for the Korean people (both North and South). Once, Vietnam was known as North and South Vietnam too and 40 years ago we weren’t that much different.  

IV. A new world order!

The goal: to survive.

The goal: to thrive.

To live is to struggle. As the world rocks and fractures under the weight of the global temporal crisis, each and every nation must keep in mind the goals. To survive the initial fall-out of the crisis and perchance to thrive in this new world order. To do that, they must feed their own population, maintain law and order, resuscitate their economy, re-establish international contact and cooperation, and relentlessly push for scientific progress into temporal sciences. Only then will they find out the secret behind the global temporal crisis that rocks their world!

So... that is my story concept. As said, I thought it up (well, from the basis of Erimies’s fantasy concept) in about 20 minutes. It’s just... you know... the start. Because of the massive scope of this story / setting, it’s impossible for me to accurately cover every country. With that said, which country/region do you come from? and how do you think your country/region will fare in this scenario? 

Hmmm.. I also want to take into consideration the natural aspects of this setting. For example, natural changes caused by the temporal zones. Our seas are trapped into countless pockets. As a result, ocean currents are in disarray which will eventually lead to changes in global ecology (impacting the migrating patterns of fishes for example) and weather patterns (impacting global temperature and wind current). So on, so forth. But I will need significant research in order to venture into this part. But... just imagine, you know... our world.. transformed in a second because time has fractured. What a world it will be!!! 

So, what do you think? Do you have ideas? Questions? Criticism? Come! I want to hear your thoughts and bounce ideas around!