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pangtasias-atelier · 1 year

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Hello! I see that you’re open for requests again. If you don’t mind too much, would you write some Claude Von Riegan from 3Houses weight gain? Like him starting to gain tons after becoming king since he’s all about feasting (but he tries to deny it).

So doing this request really made me wanna play the game again lol. Cause I do love me some Claude. Also really enjoyed this request even though it made me feel worried cause like I wanted to add more characters but it wasn't called for so I just added one ajndbhsjn

Warning: This is a fetish story!

"Please, more food for our guests! And some extra wine from our reserves while you're at it," Claude lifts up his own wine glass; the last few remnants of his wine swirl around the bottom of his crystal clear cup. The plates in front of Claude are the same as his emptied out glass. Each plate is nearly cleaned out. Only crumbs litter each dish that was once full of food.

Contrary to Claude's claims, his guests still have food. Nowhere near the amount that they started with —both men almost as eager to enjoy the time of merriment as their host— but the two dignitaries are near the tail end of managing to eat all the food offered to them by such a hospitable host.

A host whose hospitality is matched by his girth.

Claude had begun implementing his own methods upon taking the Almyrian throne. His time spent in Fodlan and with its people’s customs gave him a different mindset compared to his people in Almyra. But Claude couldn’t forgo Almyra’s own customs and principles, especially while trying to foster better relations between Almyra and Fodlan, specifically with its bordering country the Leicester Alliance first. Feasts heavily involved with Almyrian culture, feasts that were meant to celebrate and honor the dead after battles and skirmishes that Claude wished to avoid, the new king had begun to spin some tale over his new ideas. So, Claude began to throw feasts with every new treaty, council, or decision he made, claiming that such important decisions should be accompanied to honor the deceased while creating a country the deceased could be proud of. Which had surprisingly worked in his favor as the months of his reign began to grow, the cheerful environment even better for making deals in Almyra’s favor.

And because of Claude’s often thrown feasts, his own figure has softened. Considerably so. His face no longer carries the same sharp features it once did. Instead, his doughy cheeks puff out from his lovingly soft and round visage. The bit of well kept facial hair outlines the slight curvature of his face, highlighting his puffy, bloated self. Claude already has a double chin, adding to his softened appearance like his plush neck. Claude no longer wears any of his armor or adornments on his tan outfit. His coat is no longer completely closed like before; the pristine white undershirt that matches his cravat peeking out from the portions of his attire that can’t wrap around his pudge. His coat struggles to cover him up the most in the lower portion of Claude’s torso from his gut. His stomach sits comfortably in Claude’s lap. His newish gut is a large recipient of his recent weight. The soft, plush belly that can be cradled by two sets of hands stretches out his shirt but is completely covered up by the taut fabric. Claude’s chest is obstructed by two layers of clothing; his coat still strains against the width of his new, larger chest. The two soft breasts don’t quite rest on his stomach due to Claude’s posture, but they do sag down from their own size, close enough to be permanently touching his gut after some more weight. Claude’s sleeves and pants fare much better than his coat and shirt. The material sturdy as it is poofy, the fabric would be able to hide his blubbery 300 pound body if not for the rest of his outfit giving it away —or Claude’s new habits that came along with the constant feasts. The fabric of Claude’s sleeves and pants still retain their usual large look but now his limbs fill out most of the space where before there used to be breathing room. His round thighs don’t fill up the expanse of his seat, Claude’s seat always much larger and wider to match its ornamentation as his title of king. Claude has his legs spread out to give them some breathing room. And some breathing room to his gut with a lower roll of flab that rests on his thighs. Claude’s sleeves betray none of his added poundage but the shoulders are tight on his figure, the fabric straining and giving him some resistance whenever he reaches forward for another bite or sip of his drink. Claude’s coat once reaching all the way down to just below his ass, the fabric is pushed further up by both his gut and ass. Claude’s rear still holds definition to it, the two flabby yet shapely cheeks covered up by his hardworking pants. But his coat does show off the outline of the upper curve of his ass as the lower flaps of fabric rest and drape over the upper half of his butt.

Claude still eating away, his attention goes towards the servants returning with food and drinks in hand. More wine is poured into his empty glass first before they serve the half full glasses of his visitors; the plates of fried pheasant and bourgeois pike are placed onto the table similarly, Claude’s portions also larger.

Both the dignitaries dig into their sample sized platters despite already feeling quite stuffed. Both of them from western Almyra, the two’s constant visits relating to issues on the border have left both of them with the trace of a starter belly, both of their muscular figures now sporting a small layer of pudge.

Claude waits until after he finishes half of both of his plates before speaking, but more importantly, he waits until both of the other men’s minds start to focus on coaxing and easing their stuffed stomachs, the wine helping loosen their thought process as well.

“So, I take it that we’re at an agreement then.” Claude declares, suddenly standing up —pushing his chair an extra foot back first to give his gut enough room. He hides his smile as he sees his guests glad to be free from the formalities of their king, both still doing their best to nurse their aching stomachs as discreetly as possible. “As long as you keep an eye on stopping fights from breaking out on the border, then I’ll give more of our profits from exporting minerals to your territories. I already spoke yesterday with the lords from the easter territories, so exports should be even more lucrative for Almyra,”

“Of course your majesty,” Both men agree to the beneficial terms.

Calling some servants to show them their quarters, Claude smiles to himself when he finally gets a moment alone. He glances down at the table. Not allowing such good food to go to waste, he takes his two half finished plates of food to his room, quietly humming along the walk.

"Here you are, your majesty," Claude's accountant —a thin, wiry man who's served him for a year now— hands Claude an entire set of documents he's been working on for the past few days. The multiple pages are filled with all of the invoices regarding the weekend's festivities. A banquet being held in honor of all the staff's hard work, Claude had hired numerous people to fill in and cover the jobs of those being honored.

Claude rifles through the paperwork, pudgy fingers leafing every corner of the parchment. His other hand delicately picks at the charcuterie board. He drops zero crumbs; Claude absentmindedly brings the assortments of meats and cheeses to his mouth while glancing at each invoice. A large empty bottle of champagne sits on his desk, the last bits of the drink in Claude’s glass with him having drinken the rest of it.

"Looks like everything is in order. Make sure they all receive fair compensation," Claude leans back in his chair as he sends his accountant on his way.

All alone for a brief moment, Claude takes the time to catch a breather. In a private secluded off room, the expansive area is built with him in mind with Claude being its main user. There is a distinct lack of furniture, the main seat set off to the side to accommodate such a bulky user.

The constant feasts have done a number on Claude's waistline. An extra couple hundred pounds on his figure, Claude still maintains his appearance. His clothes hug his shapely figure. Claude's current weight makes even his fat self from months back seem small with all the extra pounds packed onto his body. Claude's stomach lurches all the way down onto his thick lap. His massive gut well accustomed to exorbitant feasts, the pile of flab is nearly always filled to the brim. His gut takes up almost all of his lap. His thighs are large in their own respect; the two thick legs are spread out to give his large thighs some breathing room. His stomach takes advantage of the extra space though. Claude’s massive gut oozes in between the two large thighs, his lowest fold of belly fat hanging over his chair like a canopy of flab. Claude’s fat pad is squished in between all his adipose.

Claude rests a large, flabby hand on his dome of a gut. He rubs his belly while still picking at his overloaded board. His stomach rises and falls with each labored breath he takes. Claude’s large chest also rises and falls. His breasts have filled out with enough flab to where the sides of his moobs sag enough to always be touching the upper rolls of his stomach fat when sitting. His bicep presses up against his breasts while he rubs his aching gut, flab squished together. Claude slowly puts away the entire assortment of food despite the complaints coming from his overtaxed gut and the complaints coming from the cramped chair. The chair is as stuffed as his own gut, the chair crammed full of Claude’s own bulk. His ass and thighs practically spill out of the furniture, Claude’s ass filling out his tight pants with them being as wide as a chair specifically meant for him.

Claude continues to eat at his now almost emptied out charcuterie board, a small dusting of crumbs from the crackers on his plump lips and cheeks. Glancing down at his corpulence while cramming the last bit of food in his mouth, Claude continues to rub his stomach. He sits in silence for a few minutes, the only sound accompanying him being the churning of his belly. He basks in his own enormity before getting up. The simple movement is much more of a process nowadays. Especially when he had zero trouble back in his slim days. Now, Claude slowly rises up with a groan building up in the back of his throat, arms growing warmer with a slight strain to them as he does his best to not disturb his stomach. Standing up, his stomach sags even further down without a cushion for a lap for it to nestle in between. With a great big stretch —Claude’s bones cracking as he raises two meaty sized arms as high into the air he can, his soft face squished in between two positively fat arms— Claude’s tucked in shirt strains. The fabric pulls out from between his pants and flab, the very lowest curve of his tanned and fuzzy belly poking out from underneath.

He ignores the outfit malfunction in favor of waddling back to the festivities. His engorged figure wobbles just from the slight exertion alone, Claude heading back to enjoy the assortment of delicacies awaiting him.

Lorenze is wide eyed at the spectacle in front of him. “This has to be a joke,” He mutters under his breath, still aware of his surroundings.

Not ever having expected a complete peace between Almyra and the Leicester Alliance, even knowing that Almyra now had Claude’s capable mind and hands to guide it, Lorenz had been shocked into silence for several minutes when he had received news of an official peace treaty between the two countries.

His current shock almost mirrors his shock from before. Almost, Lorenz having enough decorum to subdue his expression.

“Thank you. I believe I know the rest,” Excusing himself, Lorenz silently thanks Claude for having the foresight to explain the two’s friendly relationship to his staff. Especially since the two’s continued back and forth letters were meant to be kept a secret as friends.

The entire room is a jumbled mess. The banquet hall is filled to the brim with countless others mingling about the area. Today a celebration in honor of tomorrow’s peace signing, the party going company outdoes anything Lorenz has ever seen. His petite arms ache as others bump into him. But he eventually makes his way to Claude, a secluded table meant for just the two of them as friends but also as representatives for their countries. At the end of the table is a large cutout, said cutout created to allow better room for the absolute behemoth of a man who eats away.

“Everyone got worried when you and your entourage didn’t show up on time but I knew you’d make it,” Claude makes no attempt to stand up and greet his guest. Lorenz wonders if he even could get up without taking an eternity to do so, so much of Claude to go around now. Claude already has a selection of plates in front of him; some of his plates are emptied out.

Seated in his spot is Claude. His years as king have clearly done wonders for his body just as it has done for Almyra. Claude is now an enormously fat man; clearly on his last vestiges of mobility, his body is absolutely bloated from his countless meals and abundant indulgence. Claude is at least five times the man he used to be. So excessively fat, he needs everything custom sized to withstand him now. And he clearly struggles with even those accommodations. His clothes are a strained mess; multiple yards of fabric wrinkled and bundled together from stretching over so much volume and surface area. The few remaining buttons that haven’t already torn off on Claude’s top try their very best to cover up their obese king. The upper buttons gone, Claude’s ample chest sags out of his forcibly made low neckline shirt.The shirt barely covers his midsection, three buttons left. Claude’s breasts —which are now larger than his own face and are even comparable to his stomach when he first started gaining weight— seep over the fabric. His chest free, Claude even uses it as his own personal table by resting whichever plate he currently eats on them. He pretty much needs to with how much his arms struggle with even the most minimal and sluggish of movement. Like his own breasts, Claude’s girthy arms are wider than even his own head; the two impressively sized arms resemble pudgy thighs from how swollen in fat they are, the two encumbered limbs sagging in fat each time Claude lifts a fat hand to grab even more food.

The bottom couple of buttons of Claude’s shirt also popped off, the culprit had been Claude’s enormous gut. The large, blubbery gut has free reign to take up as much space as it wants. His titanic gut does exactly that. The blanketing mass of fat covers his entire lap, the sides of his own chair, and surprisingly even manages to seep onto the table custom made for Claude. Claude’s gut large enough to cover a person, the massive stomach looks proportional on Claude. While Claude’s thighs are hidden under a pile of fat for a stomach, the two thick legs are cramped in his seat. The arm rests surprisingly manage to withstand the onslaught of flab, only slightly bulging outwards from Claude’s meaty thighs. Not that anyone can see it but Claude’s pants are unbuttoned, his bulging fat pad comfortable buried under his gut. The elastic waistband of his pants seem to have no more give to them; Claude’s blubber is squished and pinched by the fabric. Claude’s thighs fare a little better, surprisingly so considering each thigh is wide enough to need its own chair — a chair for normal sized people, Claude’s tremendous weight and size anything but normal. His pants have the beginning of a few tears running down the side seams. Claude’s ass smushed between the chair and a few couple hundred pounds of the rest of his body, his large posterior still forces Claude to sit a bit forward in his chair, his jutting ass already cramped as it is even with the extra room he gives it. Like the rest of his pants, a small tear runs down the back of his pants. Though Claude thankfully has underclothes to cover up his ass, not that he hasn’t already shown more than enough of himself already after a few of his more infamous feasts.

Upon seeing the state of Claude, Lorenz simply keeps quiet. He bites his tongue, silvery lips of honey laced words unable to save him when he can barely process the sight of a man who seems able to eat through an entire night —of which Claude has definitely indulged in multiple times.

“Take a seat,” Claude covers the upcoming belch with his hand, still not too far into partaking in all the festivities to not be wasted. Though his tolerance has shot up from how much he drinks and eats.

Lorenz does as told. He never breaks eye contact with Claude’s pudgy face as he descends into his chair that’s a third of Claude’s width. He glances down at his own food, the rich delicacies somehow still fresh and warm despite his tardiness, before looking back at Claude. “So,” Is all Lorenz musters.

“Hmm?” Claude diverts his attention from his food. His distended jowls wobble as he chews. His chins do the same, all of Claude in a perpetual state of motion from even the slightest of actions. Still chewing, Claude waits for Lorenz to speak. He does his best to look at the still silent Lorenz, but break eye contact every so often to cram more food into his mouth.

“I see,,,” Lorenz glances down at the table. “I see than you’ve been throwing a lot of feasts,”

“Oh this? No, not really. This is a special celebration for tomorrow,”

Lorenz’s fingers drum at his thighs, thighs that are thinner than Claude’s own arms. “Is that so? I asked around and everyone made it seem like such a common occurrence,”

“People love to talk about how great others are,” Claude reaches forward to put a now empty plate back. Leaning forward, his gut smothers more of the table. His movement is sluggish, Claude’s face growing flushed.

Lorenz doesn’t bring up the weight of Claude’s pudgy court. Or how Claude eyes him with a grin while struggling to grab a plate. “Well, you deserve it. Who could have expected peace between our countries would be possible? Besides us at least,”

“You made it clear in your letters, yes,” Plate secured, Claude lets out huge huffs, his monumental gut rising and falling. With one hand feeding himself, Claude rubs at his gut with the other.

“Yes,” Lorenz’s hands clench the table.

Claude keeps eating in silence. Eventually, his rubs turn into full on groping, each bloated roll of flab grabbed and shaked while he delightfully stuffs himself, a few breathy moans accidentally escaping his lips. “You can eat too,” Claude politefully adds. But only after licking the remnants of his plate off his sausages for fingers, Lorenz staring back at Claude’s half lidded eyes.

“Well,” Lorenz stands up. “It seems you might need the food more than I,” His entire face is red; redder than even after embarrassing himself by giving wrong answers in classes many years ago, redder than even Claude imagined after the two’s multiple exchanged letters. Walking around the table Lorenz pushes his hair out of the way to keep looking at Claude.

“I am still rather hungry,” Claude does his best to lean back in his chair. He doesn’t say much else, Lorenz already upon him with a plate in hand.

Uncaring, or perhaps spurred on by Claude, Lorenz takes a seat on Claude’s lap —but not without having to lift up the mass of fat and letting himself be pressed up against it as he takes a seat.

“Rather forward, no?” Claude teases. He opens up his mouth nonetheless as Lorenz brings him a forkful of food.

Lorenz ignores him. He uses Claude’s chest as a table as well to free up his other hand to rub at Claude’s immensely obese body. Lorenz has to drape himself against Claude, sinking into so much plush fat. “Your subjects seem to not mind such a pig for a king, so let’s make sure they get an eyeful of you at the summit tomorrow,”

Claude simply smiles and allows himself to be fed. His gut exposed, his navel barely covered up by the too small shirt, he obediently allows Lorenz to feed him, ready to show himself and his accomplishments to Almyra.

#my writing #fat emblem #male weight gain #ssbhm #feeder emblem #fat fiction #maleweightgain

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ellenent · 1 year

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@katana-no-neko okay let me rant for a bit on Octopath Traveler lol

It is not that I totally dislike it, or else I guess I wouldn't have played for 90 hours or so...but I really like JRPGS, so maybe I just don't know when to quit lol But there are a lot of things I didn't like about it. The story, for example: the idea of 8 characters with different stories that would meet and go on adventuring together was really promising, but I don't think it worked well. I expected them to connect with each other or at least have an influence, but no, they just would make some random commentary on each other's story that felt really hollow. Some part of the story also didn't make sense for 8 people being together lol like when they throw someone at a hole, I was like there is no way 8 people (or 4 because of the party) are in there at the same time. The story totally ignores the other characters are there. I was like, is there really a reason for those 8 people to travel together? I don't think so.

Also, not all the stories are good. Some are boring, some are good, some are awful (I'm looking at you Tressa). I think just two felt great, the others were just...there. Several times I questioned myself if the story of the game was just that, since I saw that we had some things unanswered. Some of the side quests were pretty weird too, it was hard to find them and some were like "oh you want me to beat the shit off this person? sure!" because the ability of Olberic was that lol so yeah weird solutions for some problems

The gameplay itself, I had mixed feelings. I like turn based RPGs, but I don't like random encounters. At some point, I was so tired of battling every time I needed just to go somewhere. I think I used an item or something that avoided the monsters, but I don't remember that well anymore, they don't come at the beginning of the game (or at least I didn't find a way to avoid them) The bosses were great, I remember finding them the right amount of difficulty, they were challenging and not that easy. Even if I couldn't beat them, I could grind to level up, and after playing TriStrat, I feel it works best just making the player come up with a good strategy? It feels more rewarding than making a battle so hard you need to level up 5 levels above the recommending level. But the battle system is great, I liked the classes, the abilities, and all.

I tried for 100% of this game and oh boy it was a mistake lol I finished all the eight stories and needed to go after the side quests I missed, so I used a guide to find them. And I was actually surprised to find out the true ending of the game was locked behind a side quest? lol And it felt so...out of nowhere. It was not just one side quest that needed to be done, and they didn't feel like it was important? Anyway, when I got to the Gate of Finis part I was like "I'm sure we can leave this place if needed, right?" Wrong lol I know the game let you know of this, but I had no idea how bad things were there. So if you regret it, there is no way you can leave to buy better equipment or grind more levels You have to fight a harder version of all the bosses you already fought, and it was fun for me (I like boss rushes too). And finally things were connecting! But not what I was expecting to connect, so It was at least surprising. Anyway, each battle took a long time to finish, like 30 minutes for each fight, and that felt kinda bad because I was already tired of this game lol and you couldn't save between battles or anything, so that sucks. You can't close the game, so you must play that part for hours and hours (at least I played the Switch version and you can turn off without closing the game, but still sucks if you want to play something else)

But Galdera was the worst ✨it was so ridiculous hard, it never ended, I was so tired...when I thought I had won the battle (after like 4 hours of trying) they go "oh actually that was phase 1!! Now we're going to phase 2 :)" I had to look it up how to defeat this bitch, but even the guides said "you know maybe this is not worth it". Since I couldn't buy stuff for the characters no more, It felt so frustrating!! I was really close to the true ending but Squre Enix said haha nope it's going to be so hard for nothing yay I know people can beat those bosses in less time, but that would require me to go and grind more and at that part I was just so tired So these were the stuff that didn't work out for me. It's not the worst RPG I played, but sure it's not even close to what I felt like playing TriStrat. When the story of Octopath failed me, Triangle Strategy did excellently; when the battle system tired me on Octopath, in Triangle actually felt great! I don't want to compare more the two since they are pretty different lol

Now, I know Octopath Traveler 2 is a thing. I might give it a chance if they manage to fix the mistakes from the first one, but right now I feel well-fed with Triangle Strategy c:

#also I have some friends that really liked Octopath so I was kinda like “maybe I'm picky lol”#but I actually like really rpgs #even so they are repetitive and boring at some parts #that's just my opinion btw #I'm so glad people enjoyed it more than me #and I still want to play more from Square Enix so yeah #Triangle Strategy was amazing so I still want to play their games #if you ask my opinion on a game I will deliver an essay sorry lol

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toumoromoro · 11 months

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Fishing for the moon in the sea at night

Just finished the game, it was pretty fun.

Ok first why does this game has 3 names? Fishing for the moon in the sea at night / Towelket one more time 0 / Yorunoumi2

I have wanted to play this one for a long time, I have said it a couple of times before but TK4 is my favorite TK game (maybe one day I will explain why in detail) so a “remake” immediately caught my attention. In the end the game was completely different from what I expected it to be. While it borrows some concepts and story beats from TK4 it really is its own thing.

This game look so pretty. One of my favorite things about the series is watching how the art progresses in each game. I absolutely love how the world of the inn looks. White, black, red and blue look so nice together, and thanks to the border it’s like reading a story book.

Also the sprites look nice, it’s the same style from 5 so I have no complains... ok maybe I have one complain. Mocha’s sprite. I’m sorry but the sprite from 4 is still the better looking one. Oh also Buritoba and Sekken-bako got new sprites and now they actually look like TK characters. It bothered me a little how normal their sprites did look in 4. They were literally just girl#1 and girl#2.

I almost forgot to talk about my favorite sprite, that’s right Nekojita’s(?). This weird fusion of Warawau and Nekojita that came out of nowhere. I love it, it’s adorable. Their palettes are pretty similar so no surprise why it works so well.

Music was good as always, I could listen to Furikusuku’s mansion theme for hours.

About the gameplay, almost no battles this time around. There are a couple of mandatory fights, but you are basicaly guaranted to win. I think it’s alright, battles have always been one of the weaker points of the series, and this game clearly wants to focus on the story. I hope they return in the next games though.

This game is pretty unique in the sense that you need to play it multiple times to actually understand the story. It has a “route system” where you can date 1 of 11 characters and depending on who you dated you get a different ending. Most endings are pretty much the same, but some are essential to understand what’s going on. On my first playthrough I went for Koucha and after beating the game I was so confused that I blamed the MTL, but no, it turns out a lot of concepts and lore are in the other routes. Even the Koucha route splits! And did you know some dialogue can change based on the gender you choose? So save a lot if you play it. I ended up using all 15 slots.

And this brings me to my first complaint. I think the route system ended up hurting the story overall. One of the things that I really did like from 4 is the amount of time you get to spend with Mocha and Koucha, we get to see how their relationship evolves, them interacting with others characters or just fooling around, by the end of the game you know them pretty well and you care if something happens to them. In this game you spend very little time with the character you choose, so the more emotional parts didn’t really do a lot for me. I understand that asking Kanao to write that much dialogue for 11 characters is just unrealistic so I wish we had less routes so the other routes could have more dialogue.

Trying to piece the story together was pretty fun. I understand “The true purpose of the inn”, “The story of Mocha and Furikusuku” and “The sins of the Inkeepers”, but I’m still confused about concepts like the Tokage and Uikechuke transformation. You get 2 examples for the Tokage one, but almost no info for the Uikechuke transformation.

This game introduces Smile DK, I think she’s okay, but she only really shines when she’s with Nyanyamo, they are really funny together. Also I really like what’s been done with Nyanyamo design and personality. If I had a top 5 she would definitely be there. Pucchi remains a consistently good character. PPU was there and had more lines than in 4. Please give Agochu her labcoat back.

Overall a fun and solid game, but I have to admit that I didn’t enjoy it as much as I thought I would. Maybe I had too high of expectations.

A now some trivia:

1) If you examine the game files it looks like a Buritoba route was considered at some point before being dropped, I didn’t even notice until I read a thread in Japanese Yahoo.

2) If you extract the StringScripts for the game there’s a lot of dialogue for what appears to be a route in which Koucha is possesed by Furikusuku. I couldn’t find any info about this, so please tell me if it was actually implemented in the game.

3) To unlock the Moochasu route you need to go on a date with him before going to Barrieland, then you need to tell Kyuuri or Chihedo that you love her when she confesses, so she connects the inn 1 day earlier. Finally you need to be on the Koucha route so you can go to the inn when you get the wedding ring. Moochasu is inside the bath, give him the ring and you are done. Took me a while to figure how to date him so I hope this helps someone one day.

Next game is:

#towelket #i need a tag for this

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blazehedgehog · 1 year

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Got a top 5 or 10 most wanted Fortnite skins?

I've been playing Fortnite regularly since 2019. I've had every Battle Pass since Chapter 2. I get free currency daily for having a Fortnite Founders Pass (hence why I have every Battle Pass).

I am drowning in so many skins that the 100 locker presets Epic gives you is nowhere near enough. Every time I get or buy a new skin, I have to make the hard decision of what I can safely replace.

It actually genuinely influences my spending habits because I'll think, "I've wanted this guy for a long time, but I don't feel like deleting anything for him."

If you mean: are there any skins not in Fortnite that I really want? I don't know if I can answer that. Partially because of what I just described, but partially also because of "Santa's Lap Syndrome" where I'm sure I've said "oh I want that in Fortnite" but now I cannot for the life of me remember a single thing.

Following through on Samus would be nice, I guess. It seems like she was really close to releasing and then got held up at the last second. There's a fair amount of evidence in her favor (but this post is long enough as it is), and I was all prepped an ready to buy her back when I thought she was right around the corner.

As for skins already in the game, I can just skim a list to tell you that.

Envoy. She's priced cheap and I think she's cute.

I'd love to have Calamity, but she's a battle pass and as such will never rerun. She's just a cool cowgirl and has lots of alt styles.

I've come very close to buying ISO and her male counterpart. They're actually in the shop as I'm writing this. FIGHTING POLYGON TEAM

Sandshark Driver reminds me of Gum from Jet Set Radio. That's enough for me.

Mezmer is another guy I've come EXTREMELY close because I think his mask is rad.

I think Peekaboo's juggalo/goth clown alt is hilarious but I've never been able to bite the bullet and buy her.

The Joker is fun but he's always a real money skin and he's only sold in a pack with other stuff for like $30. Barf.

Mariana looks super cool but I wonder how visible she is at night.

Trog was a Battle Pass skin so he's gone forever.

I like Errant because you can apply gun wraps to his armor, giving him hundreds of customization options. But I own another skin that functions somewhat similarly.

Silver Surfer just looks cool.

I have Deadpool, so the other X-Force members just make sense, like Domino and Cable.

I regret not being on the ball enough to get this Playstation Blue variant of Versa. (it was free for PS+ subs) Vanilla Versa is definitely a "one day when I have enough vbucks to spare, I'll buy her."

The Classic Storm Trooper is also just a good in that "I always had this skin in Quake 3" way.

Blackheart is another Battle Pass skin I would die for. Blackheart/Blakebeard is one of THE best characters in STW, Fortnite's campaign mode. AND HE HAS GHOST PIRATE STYLES

Dire is yet another Battle Pass skin I missed. He was the Halloween skin one year and is basically just a cool werewolf, and you can toggle how far in to the transformation he is.

Spider Knight is just a cool looking... uh, Knight. Really, I also want his glider, which is a giant flying black widow spider. But the skin looks great, too.

I've come very close to buying Ghost Rider.

I've waffled back and forth on Rustler because I don't know how much value there is for me personally in just going "hur hur it's my little pony." It's still funny it exists, though.

I've thought about getting the OG Beef Boss, but I already own a couple of other variants, so it's less important now. Same for Tomato Tom.

They put a freakin Gundam Wing parody (Sentinel) in the Battle Pass and it is maybe my #1 regret not having it.

Sometimes I want Crackshot, but I have a friend who uses him pretty often, so it'd be kind of weird? (Another STW all-star character)

When I first started playing, Moisty Merman was the top of my most-wanted list. Now I've wondered if I still care.

Deadfire is in the same camp as Calamity as far as "cool cowboys" go, but this guy is also a phantom cowboy. Double cool!

Order Remnant is the same category as Envoy where he's not very expensive and I just like the way he looks.

Madcap is a fun concept for a character and I like his colors.

A World War 1 gas mask guy is a weird thing to see in Fortnite, and that's the entire reason I want Sky Stalker.

I don't like Chiara's default (with the silver paint), but I love her alt.

I didn't love Kill Bill, but something about Siren is still cool.

Taskmaster is like The Joker where I'd like to have him, but he's in an expensive real-money pack and no thanks.

Eternal Voyager was a Battle Pass skin from the season before I started playing regularly and he's awesome. That skull alt...

...Honestly? That's a lot more than I expected. And I'm probably forgetting or missing some. For comparison, here's a (also probably incomplete) list of all the skins I already own.

If I had to boil it down to a top ten most wanted, I'd say: Chiara, Versa, Mezmer, Ghost Rider, Sky Stalker, Taskmaster, Madcap, Deadfire, Domino and ISO, I guess.

#questions #Anonymous #fortnite #wishlist

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lewa358 · 1 year

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Game Retrospective: Metroid Dread

Over the last few years, I’ve been growing colder towards 2D platformers, and "search-action games" (that is, metroidvanias) in particular. I just got tired of feeling lost, I guess, and of trying to navigate the same sequence of tiny floating blocks over and over again while getting lost. I used to adore the genre, and how exploration (generally my favorite part of video games) would be rewarded with surprising and interesting new abilities (my second favorite part of video games). But after dropping games like Hollow Knight (with its boring movement and endless, boring vertical hallways) and Symphony of the Night (with its combination of clunky movement and absurd difficulty) despite them being hailed as exemplary examples of their genre, I was worried that said genre had left me behind. Looking back, the only ones I really loved are, like, Robot Wants Ice Cream, Shantae and the Pirate’s Curse, and Metroid Zero Mission, not counting 3D ones like the Metroid Prime games and Batman Arkham Asylum.

Well, Metroid Dread came out, and it proved me wrong…and right.

Simply put, this game is a blast. Movement is snappy and precise. Puzzles are always fun to solve. Combat, with the parry mechanic and ever-more-powerful abilities, is just fun. The story, while still very minimalist, has surprising depth for a 2D Metroid, and plenty of fascinating callbacks to previous games. Boss battles in particular are a great selling point; all of their designs and attacks are uniquely menacing and brutal—but at the same time, those attacks are all clearly telegraphed, so that every time I died (and I died a lot) I felt like I learned something that would make my next attempt significantly less deadly. Every time I faced a new boss, I quickly went from getting trounced in seconds to expertly dodging all of its attacks, and there really isn’t anything else I want from a boss fight.

Even the new EMMI encounters—segmented areas with only one, completely invincible enemy that stalks you and kills you in one hit—were fun to get through, and a nice change of pace from the usual running and gunning. I particularly liked the little game of chicken that you have to play with a slow-charging gun that is the only thing that can hurt them.

All of this fun is thanks to two significant changes to the Metroid formula: frequent checkpoints, and constant railroading.

The first of those is unambiguously a good thing, and something that every Search-Action game or platformer or whatever should steal. Yes, I died a lot to bosses and EMMIs, but I always respawned right outside the boss room or EMMI zone (not at the last save point, though those are plentiful too). I was always mere seconds away from my next attempt against a challenging foe, with no need to trawl through filler rooms or stress out about missing a save point.

The second change, the railroading, is arguably a bit less positive. Every time I tried to backtrack in Dread—ostensibly the main way of exploring in a Metroid game—I would hit some sort of wall. Maybe it was a one-way door. Maybe a new obstacle appeared from nowhere. Either way, the amount of actual exploration I could do in this game that is arguably about exploration was always strictly limited, until basically right up to the final boss. I think I went from 34% of items to my final total of 88% once I finally realized that I had every ability in the game and would no longer be stopped by all those arbitrary roadblocks.

There’s an upside to this limitation, of course. This is the best-paced Metroid game since the Prime games. Since I never really spent much time being lost or just walking from one end of the map to another, there was always something new and exciting around the corner. And unlike, say, Super Metroid, the controls are actually good, so I never had to juggle between different weapons or fail to execute a finicky wall-jump to get out of a kaizo trap.

Fortunately, as someone who is getting tired of the clunkier aspects of metroidvanias, I welcome this forced linearity. I’d happily play this game again, even if I might not ever get all the secret endings or find the items hidden behind particularly devious Speed Boost Block puzzles.

Strong recommend to anyone who is decent at games, unless you’re some kinda metroidvania purist.

Details:

Publisher: Nintendo

Developer: MercurySteam

Release date: October 8, 2021

Played on Nintendo Switch via physical cartridge

Beat the game in 10 hrs 26 minutes (by in-game counter) with 88% completion

Image source: Nintendo.com

#Metroid #nintendo #metroid dread #nintendo switch #video game #game retrospective #samus aran

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succubusphan · 2 years

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A Rose of Winter - Chapter 5

Summary: All Daniel wanted to do was escape the stifling life as a Stark of Winterfell and travel the world. Between the looming threat North of The Wall and the den of lions in the capital, he unexpectedly finds love in the midst of a war set to tear Westeros apart. Caught between loyalty to his family and duty, he is torn in a thousand directions that all point to one man: Philip Flowers.

Rating: E (There are only a few smut scenes but it's an M for battles, war, and other adult topics)

Tags/warnings: I removed most triggers (no R or SA, no minors involved in sex, no gore). It does include: Deaths either written without details or in a poetic way if it's an important character (Dan and Phil, Ghost and Balerion will live but everyone else is fair game). Strangers to lovers, Slow Burn, missing each other. The prophecies and stories foreshadowed are fulfilled, a satisfying ending to the entire story without plot holes. Extreme canon divergence. Dan and Phil are not replacing characters, they were written in. GAME OF THRONES AU

Author's Note: This is my OSPBB 2022, Couldn't have done it without my betas @effingmeteors and @filisaceaf.

Word Count: Each chapter will be around 15k and have at least one Dan or Phil pov. The total wc is about 210k.

Read on Ao3

TYRION

Tyrion walked out to the terrace where Joffrey’s name day celebration was taking place and smiled at the crowd. They were eyeing him with equal amounts of distrust and curiosity, just as always. It was good to be back home at last - or perhaps it was just better than being on the battlefield.

He approached the raised dais where Joffrey, Sansa, Myrcella and Tommen sat. “Dear nephew! How great it is to see you again! I hoped to see you on the battlefield but you were nowhere to be seen!” He said, with a wide smile.

Just as expected Joffrey’s outrage was evident. “I was here ruling the Seven Kingdoms!”

“Yes, yes,” he said, pouring himself a glass of wine. “And what a wonderful job you have done.”

“I thought you were dead!” Joffrey spat.

“I am glad you are not dead, uncle!” Sweet Myrcella said. Oh, she was always such a good little Lady, it almost made Tyrion want to father children of his own.

“I am glad too! Death is much too boring! And look at you, already a beauty!” he bowed before her. “And you, Tommen, you will be bigger than The Hound, but much better looking.” He turned to Bronn, his sellsword turned personal guard, and pointed to The Hound. “This one doesn’t like me.”

Bronn laughed. “Can’t imagine why.”

He walked over to Sansa and kissed her hand. “I am sorry for your loss, My Lady.”

“Her father was a confessed traitor!” Joffrey screeched with that unpleasant voice of his.

Tyrion had to resist the urge to slap the little brat again. “He was still her father. I am sure that given you have lost your own father recently you can sympathise.”

Joffrey looked at him with those hateful little eyes that looked just like Cersei's. Then he turned to Sansa and gave her a threatening look.

Sansa cleared her throat and let out a little breath. “My father was a traitor, my brother Robb and my mother are traitors too. I am loyal to my beloved King Joffrey.”

Tyrion smiled at her; she was a smart girl. Despite everything that she had gone through, she still had her sanity. “Of course you are.” He downed his wine glass and put it down at the table before letting out a deep sigh. “Well, I would love to stay but I have work to do.” He walked away without another word, his smile widening as he heard Joffrey screaming after him, wanting to know what work he was referring to and what he was doing back in King’s Landing.

He walked into the council meeting without announcing himself, taking a small satisfaction at everyone’s expressions. Not a single person was happy to see him, but he was already used to that; not many people were happy to see him outside the meetings either.

“Oh, please don’t get up!” He said, walking to the other side of the table and sitting at the only available spot, the head.

“What are you doing here?” Cersei said without even the pretence of a smile.

“Well, you see, I took a piss at the edge of The Wall, slept in a sky cell, fought with the Hill Tribes and now I’m here.”

“What are you doing here? This is the small council.” She was clearly trying not to yell at him, but she was close enough to snapping that he knew her fists were closed tight under the table.

He shrugged. “I assumed The Hand of The King would be welcome at the council meeting.”

“Our father is The Hand.”

“Yes, and in his absence…” Tyrion smiled and gave Varys a rolled parchment with the Lannister seal and his father’s handwriting.

The eunuch raised his eyebrows at the Queen and carefully read the message. “Lord Tywin named him Hand of The King in his stead while he is away.” He lowered the parchment slowly and looked around the table surely looking for someone to say something.

The faces of disapproval made Tyrion’s heart sing but he couldn’t enjoy it for long.

“Out! Everybody out!” Cersei screamed, the vein shutting out on her forehead making her quite unattractive. Once the other council members had left, she leaned closer to him trying to look menacing. “I don’t know what you did to manipulate Father-”

“If I could manipulate Father, I would be in a much better position, don’t you think? I am here only because of your incompetence.”

“I have done nothing!”

“Exactly! Your son beheaded his most important ally in the North and you did nothing.”

She leaned back in her chair. “I tried to stop him.”

“Really? Well, you failed and now I’m here,” he said as he poured himself a glass of wine.

“He got what he deserved,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Have you not noticed that we are at war? The entire North has risen against the crown and we are losing.”

“Robb Stark is a child.”

“A child who has won every battle he fought. People call him the King in the North.”

“He will never make it to King’s Landing. You don’t know anything about war.”

“Maybe so, but I do know about people and I know that our enemies hate each other almost as much as they hate us. It won’t take long before the other houses flock to the Starks and the mighty King in the North, who charges at the front of every battle with his giant direwolf.”

Cersei huffed and down her glass of wine, like the answer to their family’s problems was hidden in the fine Dornish brew. “Joffrey is King,” she said.

“Joffrey is King,” he parroted, taking a small sip of wine.

“You are only here to advise him.”

“I am only here to advise him. And if The King listens to my advice, he might just get his Uncle Jaime back.”

Her eyebrows raised ever so slightly despite her trying to appear aloof. “How?”

“You love your children, that is your only redeemable quality - that and your cheekbones - and the Starks too. We have two Stark children to exchange for him.”

“One. Arya, that little scoundrel, disappeared.”

“What? In a puff of smoke?” Tyrion had to suppress a sigh. Sometimes he couldn’t believe how stupid his family was. If they were any more incompetent Hodor would make a better ruler of The Seven Kingdoms. “We had three Starks to trade. You chopped one’s head off and let the other escape.”

He paused.

“Father would be furious… it must be difficult for you, to be the disappointing child.” He raised his glass and toasted to the absolute disaster he would have to try and fix if he wanted to keep his head on his shoulder along with his entire family.

BRAN

Bran felt the wind caressing his hair gently but was unaffected by the cold. He ran and ran as fast as his legs could carry him, making it out to the woods, loving the sound of the fallen leaves breaking with every step and the ravens croaking all around until he made it to the pond. He approached it slowly, panting with excitement - and then he saw it: the face staring back at him in the reflection was not his, but Summer’s.

He woke up with a start; his fluffy friend sleeping right beside him.

The dream didn’t scare him at all but it did leave a strange sensation in his chest; as if he was missing something. He didn’t want to tell anyone about it in case they would think he was crazy, but the mental image stayed with him all through the morning, so he asked Hodor and Osha to take him on a walk after lunch.

Bran wrapped his fur around his body a little tighter as Hodor carried him to the Godswood, still disappointed that he couldn’t walk by himself. Would he ever stop dreaming about running and climbing again? He shook his head, trying to focus on what he really wanted to see.

“Here, please,” he said, grunting when Hodor placed him on the ground. He dragged himself over to the pond and stared at his reflection in the water. It had been so real, but it didn’t feel that way now. He was not a wolf, just Brandon Stark. Could it have been a message from his father? Or an Omen? Bran turned and laid on his back, looking up to the bright red star crossing through the sky. “I heard the men talking about the comet. They say it means Robb will win a great victory in the south.”

“Did they?” Osha snorted as she made herself comfortable on the ground beside him, looking up at the sky as well. “Heard some fools say it’s Lannister red, that they will run the Seven Kingdoms before long; heard a stable boy say it was blood red because of your father’s death. But it’s neither of those things; the stars don’t fall for men, they fall for dragons.”

“Dragons are all dead; they’ve been for centuries,” Bran said and looked up to the sky daydreaming about wolves and dragons and all the battles that were no longer in his future.

Bran croaked and jumped from branch to branch until he remembered that he could fly. The ravens looked at him expectantly as he jumped down and soared through the sky. “You will learn to fly in due time, Brandon.”

He gasped and opened his eyes, finding Maester Luwin already waiting by the bed.

“Nightmare?”

Pressing his lips into a line, Bran hesitated. “Have you ever heard of someone turning into an animal?”

The maester cocked his head and looked at him curiously. “Transforming into an animal? No, not that I can recall. Why?”

“I just - I remember reading something about seeing through an animal’s eyes and wanted to know more about it.”

“Oh, that is a different matter. There are old tales of the Starks of Winterfell being wargs thousands of years ago. That means they were able to see through the eyes of different animals and perceive the world through their senses. They would run, hunt, and play in their dreams where they inhabit an animal’s body for a short period of time. As interesting as it may sound, it is sadly nothing but a tale just like the ones Old Nan used to tell you.”

Bran frowned. It didn’t sound like a tale to him, just as none of Old Nan’s stories sounded unreal. “So Bran the Builder was not real?”

The maester sighed. “Bran the Builder was a real person, there are records of it, just like there are dragon bones left to prove their existence.”

“But there is no proof of people becoming animals.”

“No. There are no records of wargs really existing.”

DAENERYS

Danny dragged her feet through the desert, trying her best to push the pain of the blisters away. Her skin was more tanned than it had ever been, peeling in painful flakes she tried not to touch, her hair and lips dry as bones from dehydration. Her khalasar had been reduced to only a few dozen people, some of them leaving because of the lack of resources, others perishing for the same reasons. She couldn’t help but feel guilty for condemning her people to such a cruel destiny because of her recklessness.

“Does it ever end?” She asked Jorah before putting one of her dragons back in their cage.

“I have never been so far east, but everything has to end at some point.”

Her mare collapsed before her eyes and she rushed to her side. Jorah silently asked her to step back and examined the mare before shaking his head.

“She was the first gift Drogo gave me,” she said, trying not to let her voice tremble.

“I know, Khaleesi.”

Irri wrapped one arm around her and rested her head on her shoulder, trying to comfort her. Danny looked at the cliff beside them; one of the few spots with shade they had encountered in their long journey. “Rakharo, Aggo, Kovarro,” she called her best three warriors. “Take the remaining horses and ride as far as you can for as long as you can; I want to know how big the Red Waste is. You will ride to the east, to the south-east and north-east.”

“What should we look for, Khaleesi?” Rakharo asked.

“Cities, living or abandoned, caravans of people, rivers or the great salt sea, anywhere or anyone that will receive us.”

The three Dothraki nodded and each took a horse, starting to pack for their journey.

Danny followed her most trusted guard. “Rakharo, blood of my blood, I ask that you return safely to me; you are my last hope.”

“I will not fail you, blood of my blood.”

“You never have.”

He looked around briefly before smiling at her. “It would be a bad time to start.”

She wrapped him in a tight hug before letting him go on what could be his last trip; she could only hope it wasn’t.

JON

The moment they set foot beyond The Wall, Jon could tell that something had changed. The winds of winter blew strong and grew in intensity making it nearly impossible for them to tread through the snow. Despite the layers upon layers of clothes and furs he was wearing, Jon could feel the cold seeping into his bones. He had lived through three winters already but they had been nothing like this.

It took them nearly three weeks to get to Craster’s Keep with the ravens - none of which survived - provisions and horses; the only shelter beyond The Wall according to Lord Commander Mormont. Before they entered, Mormont warned them to not aggravate Craster under any circumstances and stay out of trouble during their stay.

It was a strange place. A large cabin with stables and quite a few women tending to it but it was not disturbed by the wildlings and it seemed to be self-sufficient despite the hard terrain it was standing on.

Sam was the first to notice the ladies, doing laundry, carrying food and getting wood for the fire; some of them pregnant, some of them not. Edd told him to stay away from them since Craster was an old man with a horrible temper who was very adamant on people wanting to steal his wives or his daughters.

Jon asked how he had come to have so many wives but Edd merely shrugged and said they married him out of necessity for a place to stay and food before walking in.

“Why doesn’t he have any sons?” Jon murmured but Sam shrugged and followed Edd in.

Their first night at the inn went by without a hitch despite Craster’s aggressive comments to Lord Commander Mormont and his knack for yelling at his young wives constantly.

From him they were able to gather some of the information they were looking for. Uncle Benjen had not been seen in months and he was presumably dead. The wildlings, usually split into different groups, were all gathering under a strong leader they called The King Beyond The Wall, his name was Mance Rayder.

When they finally settled in the stables for the night, Jon sat beside Mormont and asked him about Craster. The Lord Commander explained that Craster was a wildling himself but he decided to live on his own and run the inn instead of living a nomad life like the others.

“He seems to be quite spiteful,” Jon observed, the old man's words ringing in his ears still. ‘If I catch you looking at one of my wives I’ll gouge your eyes out!’ he’d said.

“The man is unpleasant, but he is the only wildling willing to receive us, give us shelter and supplies. He’s the only one who has a house and stables instead of living in a tent, so if we have to obey his house rules, that’s what we’ll do.”

Jon sighed but nodded. “May I ask you something?”

“Yes, of course.”

“When Craster mentioned this - King Beyond The Wall… you looked surprised.”

“I was not surprised, just disappointed. Mance Rayder is different from Craster. He was once a man of The Night’s Watch, but he betrayed his vows and his brothers to live beyond The Wall with the wildlings. He’s a man without honour.”

Jon’s eyes widened as he stared into the flames. “I see.” He couldn’t imagine why someone would choose to leave The Watch and live in such horrible conditions. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall of the stables, lost in thought until he fell asleep.

---

The following morning, Jon woke up and went in search of Sam who was standing off to the side, not doing much at all - other than staring at one of Craster’s heavily pregnant wives intently.

Ghost followed him and pinned the girl to the side of the cabin. She was carrying three chickens and he was clearly very interested in them.

“Ghost! Knock it off. Leave the Lady alone!” Sam yelled, his voice breaking with insecurity as he tried to plead with the wolf.

Ghost turned and looked at Sam, considering whether to listen to him or not but then made eye contact with Jon and came up to greet him.

“Don’t terrorize the ladies. They don’t want to play and you are too big to be doing that. I have food for you, but you have to behave.”

Ghost whined and licked his fingers, requesting some pets from him as a reassurance that he was not in trouble. Jon grabbed his face with both hands and pressed a kiss to his white forehead, hugging him and giving him a few pats on the side. “Be good,” murmured, causing Ghost to let out a low howl.

“You are so brave!” Said the girl, finally able to speak again. Jon looked at her but realised she was talking to Sam. “You saved me!”

“Oh, it was nothing. Ghost is an old friend; I assure you he meant no harm.”

“I couldn’t be friends with a direwolf!” Exclaimed the woman. “My name is Gilly.”

“I’m Sam, Samwell Tarly.”

Jon resisted the urge to roll his eyes and left them speaking quietly, focusing on feeding his white menace of a wolf. He had a rabbit buried in the snow ready for him.

To Jon’s knowledge, Sam had had no further contact with Gilly since their brief encounter in the morning but that very night, his friend pulled him aside and brought him to a very small hut where she was already waiting for them.

“Jon, we need to take her with us when we leave.”

“Are you insane? Mormont will have us executed. He warned us about messing with Craster’s wives.”

“Please,” said Gilly. “I’m not too close to delivering, I can still walk.”

“No, we can’t take you with us. We are going further north. It’s not safe.”

“I’m scared! I think my child is a boy…”

Jon frowned. “Why does that matter?”

Gilly took a step back and looked away. “I can’t say.”

Sam grabbed Jon’s arm. “We have to take her with us, she’s not safe here!”

“What would you have us do? She would die out there. At least here she is warm and has food.”

“Forget I asked. I’m sorry-” Gilly said. “Please don’t tell my husband.” She rushed out of the hut followed by Sam but not before he gave Jon a disappointed look.

It was true that her life didn’t seem to be happy, but he knew they couldn’t possibly take her and leave; Lord Commander Mormont would not allow it.

TYRION

Tyrion poured himself another glass of wine and stared at the message once again, frowning, wondering what was the world coming to with men like Joffrey and Stannis fighting for the throne. One was as mad as The Mad King himself but with nobody trying to kill him for the greater good; the other apparently was sacrificing people, burning them alive, watching them scream in pain with no remorse merely because the Red Priestess said it would aid his campaign. And to make matters worse, Stannis had sent a raven to every single house announcing that Joffrey was Jaime's son - he downed the glass and sighed deeply. If he was honest with himself, the most qualified person out of all the contestants in this war was Robb Stark, and he was only twenty years old.

He hissed when Shae bit his earlobe.

“What has you so troubled?” She asked. “You have not looked at me once since you walked in.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, pulling his chair back and taking her hand in his. “I just worry about the state of things and what we are going to do. I am The Hand now, and the decisions I make will impact so many lives.”

She smiled and sat across from him, her long black hair falling in ringlets over her shoulders, the southern style of silk dress fitting her so exquisitely. He wished it could just be them away from everything, living as husband and wife in the countryside, but they were not, they were a dwarf born to a noble family and a beautiful girl who had to do what she could to survive.

“You will do what’s right, you always do.”

“You give me too much credit, My Lady,” he laughed.

Shae climbed onto his lap and kissed him, unfastening his breeches just as effortlessly as he lifted her dress and took her, every worry slipping from his mind.

---

Tyrion walked into the Throne Room and froze for a moment, watching all the workers lift the enormous dragon skulls from centuries ago; they looked even bigger on display than in the dungeons.

Joffrey looked around with a wide smile, that disturbing smile he had when something gave him an odd sense of accomplishment, often from hurting someone or humiliating them.

Cersei walked up to him, rage written all over her face. “What are you doing?”

“Say what you will about the Targaryen but they had good taste. If Westeros used to have these magnificent creatures, there’s no reason why they shouldn’t be hanging proudly in the Throne Room.”

“Joffrey,” she grabbed his arm, “you need to stop this -”

He pulled his arm free from her grasp, nearly making her stumble back.

Tyrion walked closer to them, ready to intervene if necessary.

“Is that disgusting lie I’ve heard about you and my uncle true?” He spat, but at least not speaking too loudly around the workers.

“Our enemies will say anything that will weaken your claim to the throne. No one believes these lies,” Cersei said, her tone even and her eyes relaxed. It was a clear lie; she had always been so good at it unless you had spent your entire life watching her.

“Someone does,” Joffrey said, stepping closer to her. “Tell me, did my father fuck other women after he grew tired of you? How many bastards does he have?”

Before Tyrion could even blink, Cersei slapped her eldest son so hard the sound echoed through the room.

“What you just did is considered treason and punishable by death,” Joffrey growled. “I will spare you this one time because you are my mother, but you will never do it again. Is that understood?”

Cersei looked at him and frowned; she must have known that was not an empty threat, that no matter how much she loved Joffrey, he would kill her if he felt he couldn’t keep her in line.

Tyrion approached them and cleared his throat. “Your Grace. Is everything in order?”

“Yes, of course.” Joffrey gave Tyrion a rolled parchment. “Take this to Ser Janos and ask him to be quick about it. There’s no time to waste, we are at war.”

He nodded and walked in the direction of Bronn’s chambers, crossing Sansa and Shae along the way and stopping to say a quick hello. Having Shae as Sansa’s handmaiden seemed to be going well. He arrived at his destination and knocked on the door.

“What!?” Bronn yelled.

“It’s me.”

“Oh, well come in then.”

Tyrion walked in and found him sitting behind a big desk, his feet on top of it, his arms crossed above his chest. “I can see that you are busy.”

“I am working on your security system.”

“Not too hard, I hope. The King asked me to deliver this to Ser Janos.”

Bronn grabbed the message, read it and raised his eyebrows. “There's something seriously wrong with that twat.” He shrugged.

“What did he say?”

Bronn merely gave him the parchment back. It read: “Have the city guard find all of the late King’s bastards and kill them. Leave none alive.”

“Do you think he will do it?” Tyrion asked.

“Nah, not himself,” Bronn said. “But the guards will have to. I would rather not kill children if I don’t have to, but those poor bastards will have to follow the brat’s orders.”

Tyrion nodded, letting out a heavy sigh. “He doesn’t want anyone else threatening his claim on the throne.”

“It’s not the bastards he should be worried about, or the ones declaring war,” Bronn said. “Nobody likes him and powerful people need powerful friends.”

“That is the smartest thing I’ve heard you say.”

Bronn shrugged. “Who are your powerful friends?”

“Lord Varys, Petyr Baelish…”

“They would betray you in a heartbeat.”

“Baelish, yes. Varys… not unless it was necessary, which is how we play the game.”

Rolling his eyes, Bronn scoffed and dug between his teeth with a fingernail. “I hate games; I’ll stick to my sword.”

Opening the door to his chambers, Tyrion nearly dropped his books. Varys sat across the table from Shae, they seemed to be drinking wine together.

“Lord Varys, to what do we owe the honour?”

“Oh, My Lord, you have been very cruel to hide your friend from me. She is such a lovely flower; she told me all about how you two met. Such a wonderful coincidence to find a beautiful woman working in your father’s kitchens.”

“A marvellous coincidence.” Tyrion said. “You should try her fish pie.”

Shae laughed and waved him off. “I don’t think he would like fish pie.”

“How can you tell?” Varys asked, raising his eyebrows.

“I can always tell,” she winked.

Tyrion dragged a chair to the table loudly. “Why are you really here?”

Varys smiled. “Oh, how rude of me, I just wanted to stop by and chat, although - I did get word from my little birds that the Queen has sent Lord Baelish on a mission to find our elusive Arya Stark.”

“At least she’s listening to some of my advice,” Tyrion said, bringing his wine glass to his lips and savouring it.

Varys cleared his throat and stood from his chair. “How awful of me to go on and on when it is so late.” He bowed before Shae and made his way to the door, turning around to look at Tyrion. “I do believe we have a council meeting.”

Tyrion rushed to Varys’ side just as he reached for the door handle and pressed his hand to it, keeping it closed. “I don’t like threats,” he whispered.

“Who threatened you?” Varys raised his eyebrows in mock confusion.

“I am not Ned Stark.”

“Ned Stark was a man of honour,” Varys said.

“And I am not. If you keep threatening me, I will have you thrown into the sea.” Tyrion tried to open the door, but this time Varys pressed his hand to it.

“You’d be surprised at the results. Storms come and go, big fish eat little fish and in the end, I keep on paddling.” He smiled sweetly. “Come, My Lord, we shouldn’t keep the Queen waiting.”

Upon reading Robb Stark’s peace offering and request to trade Jaime for the independence of the North, the Stark sisters and Ned Stark’s bones, Cersei tore the paper in half and instructed their distant cousin to send her reply to him.

Tyrion resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his sister. “Sending Ned Stark’s bones would at least be a gesture of good faith.”

She ignored him of course. “Did you see him?” She asked the young Lannister.

“I did. They have not broken his spirit, Your Grace.”

“If you happen to speak with him, tell him that he has not been forgotten.”

“I will, Your Grace.”

“Safe travels, cousin,” said Tyrion, already unrolling the next parchment. “Lord Commander Mormont says the wildlings have stopped fighting each other and gathered under a new leader whom they call The King Beyond The Wall.”

“Another King? How many are there now? Five?” Cersei laughed.

“He said the cold winds are rising and the dead are rising with them.”

“The Northerners have always been superstitious people,” added Pycelle.

“One of these dead men attacked him, it seems. Mormont does not lie.”

“How does one kill a man that is already dead?” Asked Baelish with a smirk.

“With fire, apparently,” replied Tyrion. “He requests that we send more men to man The Wall.”

“We are at war, we don't have any more men to spare.”

“Let me remind you that The Night’s Watch is the only thing standing between whatever is beyond The Wall and us.”

Cersei rose from her chair, all the other council members rising with her. “I’m sure the brave men of The Night’s Watch will protect us all,” she said as she walked out of the room.

DAN

Dan could have cried when he saw the Stark banners all around the camp. Balerion wagged his tail and looked at him, almost asking for permission. “Go on, find Greywind, he will be happy to see you.” He patted Balerion’s fur and watched him run straight to one of the bigger tents, people jumping out of his path all the way.

“Dan?” His mother called. “Dan!”

He knew that tone well, she was hopeful but worried. He wasted no time galloping down the hill. Some of the archers looked at him but carried on with their tasks once they recognised him.

In the end, he found Balerion pawing at his mother, tugging on her dress. “Hey, you will throw her to the ground, be gentle with your grandma.”

“Daniel!” She chided him but welcomed him into her arms when he got down from his horse. “Where were you?”

“I was in King’s Landing. I -” he tried to continue but the memories of his father’s death flooded his mind once again. “I’m sorry, I should have stopped it.”

His mother shook her head, trying to look strong. “There’s nothing you could have done!”

“I spoke to him one last time,” he whispered into her ear.

She looked at him and gave him a watery smile. “I am glad that you got that gift. Come; Robb will want to see you.”

They walked to the big main tent, Balerion running ahead and entering before them.

Dan pulled back the fabric and saw his brother standing behind the plotting table.

Robb looked up and smiled when their eyes met. “Gentlemen, if you'll excuse me, I would like a word with my brother.”

“Your Grace,” they said before exiting quietly.

Dan approached him with open arms and Robb pulled him into a crushing hug, letting out a deep sigh of what sounded like relief. “Hello, little brother. I've missed you.”

Letting himself be wrapped in Robb’s embrace, Dan melted into his arms. He felt small all of a sudden. He was trying his best to keep his composure, but being in the presence of his family once again seemed to be bringing every single emotion he had been bottling up for the past few months. At least for now, he was safe.

A laugh escaped them as Greywind and Balerion nipped at each other and jumped around.

“Dan spoke with your father, it seems,” their mother said.

Robb’s smile was gone in an instant. “Were you there?”

Dan nodded. “I sneaked into the castle with the help of some friends and spoke to Father. I had a small boat waiting but he refused to come. I think he was hoping to lie and be pardoned, but -” He shut his eyes and buried his face in Robb’s chest. “I wanted to save him, but I failed.”

Robb stepped back and placed his hands on Dan’s shoulders. “You did what you could and you returned to us; that’s the most important.”

Their mother ran her fingers through his curls. “Did you see the girls?”

“Arya escaped. The last time I saw her, she was marching to The Wall, dressed as a boy, fighting with other boys.”

“That’s our Arya. She will be safe with Jon,” Robb said.

Their mother pressed her lips into a line but said nothing; she knew Robb was right. No matter how much she despised Jon, she knew he would protect Arya.

“Sansa was standing beside The Queen when - when it happened. She cried and screamed, begging for his life, but Joffrey said she just had a soft heart.”

Robb placed his hands on Dan’s cheeks and looked into his eyes. “I will kill him for this, Dan. I will kill them all and I will get Sansa back safely.”

Dan nodded. “What can I do to help?”

“Tell me everything about these friends that helped you.”

“One of them was a Lannister soldier I met when he visited Winterfell with King Robert; he was the one who allowed me into the dungeons to speak with Father. That cost him his life in the end.”

“May the Gods rest his soul,” said his mother.

Dan nodded and continued. “But the person who helped me the most was Phil. He grabbed me when I tried to stop the Kingslayer from taking Father; when the Lannister soldiers killed some of the Winterfell soldiers. He didn’t even know who I was, but he stopped me from walking into a sure death and he took me to a safe place.”

“Who is this Phil?” She asked.

“Well, he’s a Tyrell but not exactly. You see, he is a bastard, but they treat them as one of their own. He’s Loras and Margaery Tyrell’s cousin, I believe. Loras and Renly Baratheon took me in at his behest and aided me for every moment they were in King’s Landing, even offering me asylum in Highgarden.”

“We received a raven stating that Renly is also laying claim to the throne,” Robb said.

Dan nodded despite the initial shock. He now realised that Renly was not running, just taking a step back to be in a safer position. “He would be a good king, I believe. People seemed to like him and Loras quite a bit, and he’s an honest man.”

“I don’t care about keeping the Iron Throne to myself. I want what’s best for our people, independence and vengeance against the Lannisters.”

“Form an alliance with Renly; I’m sure he would be interested.”

“You found yourself some powerful friends, little brother.”

“It was all thanks to Phil, really. I could have died so many times but he kept me safe.”

His mother placed her hand on his shoulder. “I would like to meet him one day. He sounds wonderful.” She ran her hand on his cheek and he instinctively leaned into the touch. “Now, let’s sit down for supper.”

---

The camp food was not amazing, but being able to sit down and have a hot meal with his family tasted like glory. It was a few hours until most of the men and their mother had retired, but it was worth the wait to finally speak to Robb alone.

“Who is she?” Dan asked.

Robb looked at him with a quizzical look.

“The girl you look at as if she was a goddess.”

He smiled and lowered his head. “Her name is Talisa. She’s a healer. She’s the smartest woman I have ever met and she’s kind as she is beautiful.”

“She is beautiful, but - aren’t you engaged to a Frey girl?”

Robb pursed his lips. “Yes; but I didn’t agree to the match. I will try to renegotiate when the time comes.”

Dan hummed, he didn’t want to ruin the night speaking about the deal their mother had struck. The Freys were known for being very unfortunate looking, unpleasant, constantly angry but extremely powerful. Having Walder Frey as his father in-law was not a happy notion for Robb and Dan couldn’t blame him. “Where did you meet her?”

“On the battlefield,” Robb said, smiling as he remembered. “She was treating men from all sides.”

“So she has no banners.”

“No, but I know she won’t betray me.”

“How do you know?”

Robb frowned. “Why are you interrogating me?”

“I am not, I swear,” Dan said, raising his hands in surrender. “Just looking up for my brother. I am happy for you - I really am.”

Robb turned the question right around. “How did you know the Lannister soldier-”

“Nathar.”

“Nathar,” he said, leaning back onto a tree. “Wouldn’t betray you?”

“I had a feeling that he wouldn’t. He’d asked me to look for him when I was in the capital, but I couldn’t be sure. I took as many precautions as time allowed me.”

“And Phil?”

Dan felt himself blush and smiled, grabbing a stick and poking the wood in the fire in front of him. “I didn’t know, but he saved me before he even knew who I was - and Balerion adores him.”

“Balerion likes most people,” Robb pointed out.

“Not Theon.”

“Yes, not Theon. Greywind doesn’t like him either.”

Dan looked into Robb’s eyes. “He’s not good.”

“He’s one of us. He grew up in our home.”

“He has always treated people whom he considered beneath him with disrespect, even Jon.”

Robb was quiet for a moment but when he looked up, Dan knew he was not willing to continue on with this topic. “Tell me about Phil. He must be handsome if he caught your eye.”

Dan snickered, feeling the tension leave his shoulders. He didn’t try to deny it. “He is. He has black hair and bright blue eyes, his shoulders are strong and he has a wonderfully muscled chest.”

“How much did you see exactly?” Robb’s eyes widened along with his smile.

“Not much, we just - shared his bed. Don’t give me that look, he hugged me while I slept.”

His brother raised one eyebrow at him. “Are you sure nothing else happened?”

“We almost kissed - and he gave me this ring.” Dan removed his glove and showed him it.

Robb held it close to the fire and looked at it. “PF, What does it stand for?”

“Philip Flowers, I believe.”

“And you say the Tyrells have him in high regard?”

“Yes, he is very close to Loras at least. And Renly too.”

“Do you think he would help us?”

“Yes, we made a promise - a sort of alliance to help each other if things get difficult. He has already upheld his part of the deal and even rode with me to The Peach.”

“That’s good to hear…” he said, lost in thought. “Times couldn’t be more difficult.”

---

Dan ran between the tents, trying to melt into the background but people were looking at him with wide eyes, gasping and running away. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes and made his way to Robb’s tent but waited outside when he heard Theon’s voice.

“We should ask my father for help!” he said.

“Your father sided with the Targaryens during Robert’s rebellion and lost the war. I doubt that he would be happy to help.”

“That was back then; the circumstances are different,” Theon whined. “He’s my father, I am his only son, I know I can convince him to join you. Please, trust me. I know I can do this.”

“No, Theon.”

“Robb - Your Grace,” he kneeled before Robb. “I am asking you, as a personal favour, to please, let me get the Iron Born on your side. With the Greyjoy fleet, there would be no stopping you.”

Robb sighed deeply and ran his fingers through his hair; he looked tired, much older than he was all of a sudden, the war clearly taking a toll on him. “I will consider it, if you stop asking.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

Dan walked into the tent and tried to tell his brother what a bad idea that was but he could only whine. Theon tried to touch him and Dan took a step back, growling.

“It’s alright, Balerion. It’s just Theon. He’s safe.”

‘No, he is not,’ Dan thought.

---

Dan woke up with a start and found his tent empty, he walked out, across the field and made his way to Robb’s. Letting out a deep sigh, he pulled the fabric open and entered.

“Good morning,” he said looking at his stern brother; he was examining the pieces in his planning table.

“Dan, good morning. I wanted to ask you something.”

“Of course.”

“I know that you hate politics and didn’t want to get involved in any of this but - we need Renly’s support. His army has the strongest numbers.”

“I was not built for politics, like you, but I will do anything I can to help. This is my war too.”

Robb nodded. “Will you go as an emissary?”

Dan’s eyes widened, but he nodded. “Of course, I am just - nervous about what I could agree to in your name.”

“You won’t be going alone,” his mother said as she walked into the tent.

“You will do amazing,” Robb said, patting his shoulder. “Just - don’t promise me in marriage to anyone; Mother already did.”

“Do not worry, I don’t think I could find you a worse match than she did,” Dan said, making Robb snicker.

She threw a glove at Dan, missing him, but still laughed which helped loosen some of the nervousness in his chest.

Robb came to say goodbye before his long journey but Dan could tell that something was amiss. “What’s on your mind?”

Looking towards the prison cells, Robb let out a deep sigh. “There’s something you need to see.”

They walked through the tents in silence, occasionally nodding to acknowledge someone trying to get Robb’s attention and waved at Talisa, the beautiful healer. The lack of explanation was starting to annerve Dan until he saw a familiar face in one of the cells. A very dirty blonde head, a thin grimmy body covered in rags but a proud smile still on his lips. It was Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer.

Dan grabbed Robb’s arm and dragged him away from the scoundrel. “Why is he still alive?”

“I want to negotiate with the Lannisters. I demanded the North’s independence, to get the girls and Father’s bones back. He deserves to rest in the Crypts of Winterfell”

“And you believe that they will say yes?” Dan asked with an exasperated sigh. “They will kill you for this.”

“I have to try.”

“They will never accept it. If they say no, kill him.”

“You need patience, little brother. There is still hope to solve this war without even more unnecessary blood spilling. And if we kill him, there is no guarantee that they won’t kill Sansa in retribution.”

Dan shook his head but didn’t argue. Robb would have to deal with the issue while he was gone, and Dan could only hope to return to successful negotiation or a dead body.

ARYA

Westeros, The Kingsroad.

“Boy, boy. Please, bring a man some water.”

Arri looked at him, the cleanest of the three men locked inside the small cell. He looked less menacing than the others with his long reddish hair and soft blue eyes, but Arri knew better than to go near the cell. She hesitated.

“Bring us beer or I’ll open you up like a fish!” One of his cellmates screamed.

She started to walk away, but the first man spoke again. “Forgive my companion, please. A man only wants water. You will be safe, I promise.” He pressed his cup to the bars and smiled at her.

Arri took it quickly in case either of them tried to grab her and filled it with water from the stream at the side of the road. She walked back to them slowly and put it in the man’s hand.

“Thank you, you are very kind.”

The sound of hooves against the road made Arri turn around. She paled as she saw soldiers of the City Watch riding towards them. She walked off the road and hid behind the trees. She was so distracted, she tripped and almost fell but a pair of strong arms tightened around her.

“Shhh, it’s alright,” Gendry said.

She shook her head slightly. “They are after me,” she whispered back.

They listened to what the men were saying. “We need to search every single one of you, low lives!”

“You will not be searching for anything,” Yoren said.

“We have a signed order from the King.”

“I don’t care. These men belong to The Watch now, the King himself authorised their transportation.”

Both men got off their horses and unsheathed their swords but Yoren was faster than them, he had them on the ground within seconds. “If the King wants these men back, he’s going to have to get them himself.”

“We are looking for a boy named Gendry. He was carrying a helmet shaped like a bull,” they said, but nobody replied or moved a muscle. “Fine, we’ll return with more men.”

Yoren laughed. “Return with whatever you want. You are not getting anything.”

As they galloped away, Arri let out a sigh of relief. “Why were they looking for you?”

“I’m not telling you,” Gendry said.

“Why not?” She pushed, nudging him with her elbow.

He shrugged. “You don’t tell me your secrets, I won't tell you mine. Fair’s fair.”

“I don’t have any secrets.”

Giving her an unimpressed look, Gendry raised his eyebrows at her. “Why are you going to The Wall if you are a girl?”

“I’m a boy, I’m not a girl.”

“I’ve seen you taking a piss. You are no boy.”

Arri took a step back, her stomach twisting into knots.

He shook his head. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Fine,” she walked over to him and stepped on her toes to whisper in his ear. “I am Arya Stark of Winterfell; if they find me, they will take me back to King’s Landing as a prisoner.”

Gendry nodded and whispered back: “I don’t know why they are looking for me, all I know is that two Hands of the King came asking about my mother, and both ended up dead shortly after. My master asked me to leave for his own security and mine.”

They stepped away from each other when they heard footsteps. “We should have told them who Gendry is so they don’t return,” a voice said, and Arri recognised it immediately. It was the blonde boy that had attacked her back in King’s Landing. She gave him a look and watched him pale when he realised he’d been heard.

TYRION

“Come in,” Tyrion said when he heard the knock on his door. “Ah, Ser Janos Slynt. Please, take a seat.”

“Thank you, My Lord,” the man said with a wide smile. “What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to officially assign you to your new post, of course, after such a wonderful job you have done as Lord Commander of the City’s Watch.”

“I’m not sure what you mean, My Lord.”

“You took part in the capture of Ned Stark when he was Hand of The King, as you can imagine, I find that a bit troubling given that I hold such a position now. For this reason, you will continue to serve the crown as a man of The Night’s Watch; you were assigned to Castle Black and will leave in the morning. Make sure you pack everything.”

“I am a man of honour! I shouldn’t be sent to work with a bunch of criminals,” he said with a sneer.

“What honour is there in killing babies in their mother’s arms? Don’t think I haven’t heard what you did. Besides, I can’t have you lurking around.”

“I will not leave. I will ask for a meeting with the King.”

“Do you think he cares about you? He doesn’t!” Tyrion turned around and looked out to his balcony. “Bronn…”

Bronn stepped into the room and raised his eyebrows at him.

“Take Ser Janos to his chambers and if he doesn’t leave for Castle Black in the morning, kill him.”

“Of course!”

“While you are at it, introduce yourself to the other men of the City Watch, you are now their Lord Commander.”

DAN

The ride to The Stormlands was long and dangerous, but having his mother at his side made the circumstances much better. In the dark nights, when they sat to eat in the shadows, Dan could almost pretend that he was back home, even though it felt like decades had gone by.

It was almost two years ago that his entire family had still lived together in Winterfell, but then, one by one, they each left searching for their own destiny, hearing their calls and now they were spread all over Westeros, those of them that remained alive, in constant danger. Dan was becoming numb to it, he didn’t know if that was a good or a bad thing, but the message that kept playing in his mind was Robb’s last words to him before they left: “Life is too short and we are at war; whatever you need to do, whatever you want to do, there’s no time like the present. You never know when it could be your last night.”

Those words still danced in Dan’s mind when he was woken up with a knife to his throat, his mother gagged and tied to a tree nearby.

“Drop your knife!” Yelled one of their guards as he ran towards them. The criminal looked away and before he could even process the potential outcome, Dan pulled the dagger he carried in his boot and stabbed the man in the neck.

He watched him fall and rushed to untie his mother. “Are you hurt?” He asked after removing the gag.

“No.”

“We must leave now, in case there are others,” one of the guards said.

“Where were you?” Dan asked, infuriated.

“We stepped away for a moment to refill our water supply - with Lady Stark’s blessing.”

Dan looked at her mother who shrugged. “Next time wake me up.”

“You needed to rest.”

“Yes, and my resting almost became eternal,” he sighed. “Come on, let’s get the horses ready.”

Balerion whined from his cage. Dan let out a sigh of relief and opened the gate for him to roam free and hunt.

Their arrival at Renly’s camp was thankfully uneventful. They introduced themselves to the guards and upon stating their intention to negotiate with Renly, were led to him. As luck would have it, they had arrived during the third day of his wedding celebration.

A one on one battle was taking place as Renly watched raptly from the raised dais, Loras nowhere to be seen until -

An incredibly tall fighter defeated the other. To Dan’s surprise, the person on the ground was actually Loras, wearing his beautiful silver armour with roses carved into it and a rainbow cloak hanging from his shoulders.

Standing from the wooden carved throne, Renly addressed the fighters. “Excellent!” he said, clapping. “Fighter, please state your name. For your incredible display, I will grant you one favour in honour of my beloved husband.”

The winner pulled Loras to his feet with one arm, removed his helmet and kneeled before Renly.

“My name is Brienne of Tarth, Your Grace. If you would grant me the honour, I would devote my life to serving in your Kingsguard.”

“It would be my honour to have you in my service,” Renly said, inclining his head. “You may join the rainbow cloaks under Loras’ command.”

Loras bowed before her, but Dan had to snicker when he saw the look of utter jealousy on his face.

“Dan!” Renly walked down to them, Loras joining them shortly after. “It is good to see you!”

Dan let himself be pulled into a hug. “Your Grace,” he said, almost slipping and calling Renly by his name as he patted the potential King of Westeros on the back.

Loras held Dan’s mother’s hand. “Lady Stark, your beauty and bravery are unmatched, thank you for blessing us with your visit.”

“Your Grace,” she said. “Thank you both for receiving us. Congratulations on your wedding. Whenever you have a moment, we would like to negotiate with you at Robb's behest.”

“Of course! Dan is our ally, it is only fair that the rest of the Starks follow his lead.”

“I’m not a leader, but I appreciate the compliment. My family would love to discuss the terms of an alliance.”

“Phil -” Loras said with a smile. “Please, show them to their tent.”

Dan turned around swiftly and nearly fell when he found Phil standing right at his side with a wide smile. He twisted his ankle and would have landed on his ass if Phil hadn’t wrapped his arms around him. “Hi, Dan.”

“Hi,” said Dan, breathlessly.

“You must be Philip,” his mother said.

Dan stepped away from Phil, already blushing and nodded. “This is Phil; the man who has saved me more times than I can count.”

“Thank you for keeping my son safe. Your bravery and good judgement have aided my son in deciding to request this negotiation.”

“It is very nice to meet you, Lady Stark. Please, don’t mention it, I just saw someone in need and decided to help.” Phil shook his mother’s hand which made her smile widely. “You must be tired. Allow me to lead you to your tent.”

Dan was eager to speak to Phil alone, to hear everything about the time they spent apart from each other but he left as soon as he’d shown them their accommodations. The tent was quite big and had two beds, and although Dan was not thrilled to sleep close to his mother, any sort of bed sounded like a dream after their long trip. He would need to catch Phil at a different time.

“He is quite handsome.”

“It’s not like that.”

“I may be old but I am not a fool, Daniel,” she chided him. “I can tell by the way you look at each other.”

“How do we look at each other?” he asked, walking behind the curtain that divided the tent and starting to remove his clothes.

“He looks at you the way your father looked at me when we first fell in love; with utter adoration. And you - you look at him as if he is the owner of your heart.”

“Nonsense!” Dan said, his tone a bit too high. He poured water into a basin and went about cleaning himself with a rag.

“I suppose it is different for you since you are both men. There is not so much of - an imbalance between you, at least in that regard. Tell me: What is it that you like so much about men?”

“This is not something I want to discuss with my mother.”

“I’m just curious. You have always only had eyes for boys - even when you were one yourself.”

“What did you like about Father?”

“His long hair, how strong he was, his caring nature, his love for his family and his unyielding sense of honour.”

“I guess I like many of the same traits in men, as well as a strong frame and good sword skills.”

“Sword skills?” She smiled.

“You asked.”

“That would give you something in common,” she said.

Dan realised that yes, Phil’s fighting skills do make him his equal, a perfect match. Still, he wasn’t sure if that was the reason or if he just liked the way could gracefully jump into a fight or sneak in and out of places undetected when he was truly focusing on it and then just - trip over his own feet. There was something oddly sexy and charming about it.

“Stop sighing and get ready for dinner with the Tyrells.”

“I’m not sighing!” Dan huffed.

“Oh, it must have been the wind then.”

Two hours and a short nap later, Phil was waiting to lead them to dinner. “Lady Stark, you look enchanting.”

“Thank you.”

“Dan,” Phil nodded, trying and failing to be casual about it. “Where is Balerion?”

“With our guards. I assumed having him running free between the tents in the night would get either him or Renly’s men killed.”

“You must bring him to dinner! I want to see him!”

“Very well, follow me.” They walked up to the small camp for their guards where Balerion was already whining and trying to jump in the enclosed space and not because he’d missed Dan. “Quiet boy, quiet. Be good and I’ll let you out.”

Balerion sat on his hind legs, his eyes never leaving Phil’s and his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. As soon as the physical barrier between them was no longer a problem, Balerion launched himself on top of Phil, jumping in excitement and licking his face thoroughly.

“Yes, yes! I’ve missed you too!” Phil said, scratching the obsidian fur as he looked up at Balerion’s face.

“Do you want to come to dinner with us?” Dan asked.

The direwolf’s attention snapped back to him.

“You can join us but you have to be in your best behaviour. Is that understood?”

Balerion snorted and sat in front of him, waiting for some pets which Dan promptly gave him.

“Very good. Come along, then. No running, you will scare the soldiers,” Dan said as if the men weren’t shaking by the presence of a wolf nearly twice their size. He looked over his shoulder at his mother and found her smiling as she watched Phil.

In just a few minutes, they were entering the main tent, joining a private dinner celebration with Renly, Loras, Margaery, and Phil.

“Lady Stark, It’s an honour to finally meet you. Your temperance is renowned in Highgarden,” Margaery said, with a sweet smile before turning to Dan. “And you must be the famous Daniel. Phil has told me all about you.”

Dan smiled and kissed her hand. “It is my pleasure, My Lady,” he said before giving Phil a look. He really hoped that the use of the word everything was not literal.

“Thank you for your warm welcome, Lady Margaery.”

“Of course!” she said and led them to the table.

Dan expected the negotiations to start right away but when he tried to broach the topic, Loras smiled at him and asked him to relax since the night was one for celebration and rest and there would be a proper time to discuss the war. It was frustrating but he resisted the urge to shake his head or whine. War was urgent, not a matter to sit and wait on, but he didn’t want to disturb their potential allies; Robb really needed those extra soldiers on the battlefield and it seemed like Renly was their only option at the moment.

He felt a hand on his thigh and turned to his left, surprised to find Phil there when Margaery had been to one to take the spot initially.

Phil leaned closer and whispered into his ear. “I know what you are thinking, but even in the current circumstances, I can’t fault them for wanting to celebrate their wedding without politics.”

“Thank you. This is quite urgent. Robb has had Jaime Lannister captive for a few months and it’s not safe to keep him around,” Dan whispered, staring into his beautiful eyes. If he were to turn around ever so slightly their lips would probably touch.

“I will speak to him tomorrow. Negotiations will begin shortly, but just for today, let’s pretend like our entire world is not ending.”

Dan nodded and laid his hand on Phil’s, interlacing their fingers under the table. He heard a laugh at the head of the table and turned to see Balerion trying to climb into Renly’s lap.

“No - down; down,” Dan said, trying to sound firm but Balerion pretended not to hear him until he stood from his seat. Only then did he settle down at Renly’s feet. “My apologies, Your Grace.”

“It’s alright. I’ve missed him too. Sit, he won't cause any trouble.”

Dan hesitantly sat down, but made sure to keep his eyes on his wolf for the rest of the meal.

After a healthy meal of meats, potatoes, and bread along with intricately decorated sweets with stags and roses, and perhaps more wine than was advisable, the celebration came to a close.

Dan thanked the newly wedded couple and called Balerion who was still playing with a bone. He turned to leave but saw his mother speaking with Margaery Tyrell. “Mother, I want to take Balerion back to his cage. Should I wait for you or -?”

“Oh, no. Lady Margaery and I are having a nice conversation, you can go on without me.”

He bowed to the ladies and made his way out of the tent with Balerion in tow. It took him about thirty seconds to realise someone else was following. He turned around and pressed the blade of his knife to the person’s neck.

“It’s me!” Phil said, his voice breaking a little.

“You could have said something. I almost killed you.”

“Maybe you should relax a bit more. You know we wouldn’t hurt you.”

Dan put his knife back in its holster, conveniently attached to his belt.

“Didn’t you keep that in your boot?”

“No, this is a different one,” Dan said, turning around and starting to walk again.

“Have you considered that you carry too many knives?”

“Not since I was attacked in my sleep and had to struggle to get my knife from my boot discretely to kill the man. It was difficult,” Dan let out a deep sigh. “And there’s no such thing as too many knives. I want to get two more.”

“Is it bad that I find that incredibly sexy?”

Dan laughed and elbowed his side without even turning to look at him. “Shut up.”

They walked peacefully between the tents and finally reached the camp of the Stark soldiers to let Balerion into his cage. “Go on then. We can’t have you escaping to go sleep on Renly’s chest.”

“He would sleep on my chest first, he likes me more,” Phil pouted.

“Of course,” Dan said, giving Balerion a good head scratch and a kiss on his snout. Phil hugged and let him get into the cage before closing it and locking the padlock. Luckily the wolf was tired enough to settle down and let them go on their way.

Dan turned around and looked at the stars, basking in the moonlight, not wanting to let the night end, but he knew it was getting late and he should probably return to his tent.

Phil looked around and grabbed Dan’s hand leading him down a different path until -

He turned around swiftly and pulled Dan close, wrapping his arms around him.

“Oh!” Dan said, suddenly dizzy, just from having Phil so close after so long. It felt almost as if their last goodbye had been years ago, but their bodies still remembered each other.

“Dan...”

“Yes?” Dan whispered.

“May I kiss you?” Phil asked, his lips nearly connecting with Dan’s.

“Yes,” Dan said in almost a moan before Phil pressed their lips together. It was sweet and passionate and rushed and slow, too slow. . It was perfect.

Dan felt overwhelmed and like it was nearly not enough, he wanted to crawl inside Phil’s skin, be a part of him, touch every single part of his body. He was getting a bit too ahead of himself, but then it was over.

Phil broke the kiss, panting, softly biting his cheek. “My tent is not far… would you like to come with me?”

Wide eyed and nodding fervently, Dan let himself be dragged away to Phil’s tent. As soon as they had entered, Phil kissed him once again, pulling at his clothes, trying to get him naked as fast as possible. Dan followed his lead, unsure of where things were leading, but willing to explore whatever Phil proposed.

They kicked off their boots on their way to bed and finally landed on it, laughing, still attempting to remove each other's breeches. Dan’s laugh was cut short when Phil’s hand wrapped around his cock. “Fuck!” he moaned, trying his best not to finish before they had even started. “Slow - slow down a bit.”

Phil removed his hand from Dan’s breeches. “I’m sorry! Would you like to stop?”

“No! Of course not, I’m just a bit… overwhelmed,” Dan admitted as he buried his face in Phil’s neck and pressed a kiss there, his hand coming to cup his cheek and leaning in for a much softer kiss.

“What do you want to do?” Phil asked.

“I don’t know, whatever you want to do…” Dan said, feeling shy all of the sudden.

Phil paled, something that Dan had never thought possible. “Have you… what have you done before?”

“Not a lot.” Dan bit his lip nervously, hoping that Phil wouldn’t mind his lack of experience. He really wanted Phil to be his first, even if the situation was equally exciting and nerve wracking.

“Oh, um. Are you sure -?”

“Yes…” Dan mumbled. “I’m just not sure of what I want to do exactly but I do want to.”

“Alright,” Phil said. “We can do as little or as much as you want. You’re in charge now.”

“I - I don’t know how to be in charge,” Dan finally admitted.

“Close your eyes. Try to picture what you would like to happen.”

Dan did as he was told and thought of Phil’s naked torso pressed to his, his body pinning him down to the bed as they kissed. “Would you lay on me?”

Phil nodded and settled down on top of him, looking at him expectantly. “Now what?”

“Kiss me,” Dan commanded breathlessly and Phil did, shifting his weight to his elbows and letting Dan take control of the kiss. It started slow, but the more they kissed the bolder Dan became, his hands hesitantly moving along Phil’s body. Led purely on instincts, he snaked his hand between them and unfastened Phil’s breeches, taking him in his hand.

“Oh!” Phil moaned, starting to move his hips to get more friction. Then he swatted Dan’s hand away and pressed their cocks together. “Is this alright?”

Dan nodded and pulled Phil down for another kiss, letting his hand wander down the other’s back and settle on his plump ass. Gods, the feeling of Phil’s cock sliding against his own was maddening, like something he could become quickly addicted to given the opportunity. “Phil,” he panted. “Please!”

“Yes, love?”

“In me, I want you in me,” he said, earning the satisfaction of the growl Phil let out in response.

Pulling away, Phil patted the side of Dan’s hip and pulled his breeches off in a swift motion before getting his own past his hips and briefly standing up to kick them away. He kneeled on the bed, reaching for something under his pillow. It was a vial of some sort of oily substance.

“Do you want to turn around…?”

Dan shook his head no and merely opened his legs for Phil.

“So beautiful…” Phil mumbled, before coating his fingers in the oil and balancing on his other hand. “Ready?” he asked and when Dan nodded, pressed his finger against his hole, tracing the rim until Dan finally relaxed. Phil said something else, a praise perhaps, but Dan’s blood was rushing down his body so fast he could actually hear it. It was weird at first, an odd feeling, but once Phil started to move the first finger, it became enjoyable quite fast. Then came the second and he nearly didn’t even notice the third. Moans fell from his lips but Phil was ready to swallow them all.

“I’m ready- Phil!” Dan moaned when the other touched something inside of him.

“Alright,” Phil panted, already settling between his thighs. “If you need me to stop, slow down or just need anything, you let me know. It’s not supposed to hurt. Promise?”

“I promise,” Dan said, frowning as his mind was momentarily clouded by jealousy. Who had Phil done this with? It was a stupid thought but -

“Dan, look at me.” he settled on his elbows once again.

“Yes.”

“Stay with me,” Phil whispered and entered him slowly, the intense feeling making Dan’s eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Fuck!”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m going to do to you.”

“Mmm, Phil!” Dan gasped.

“Wrap your legs around me, love,” Phil said, moving ever so slowly.

Dan hissed as he felt that maddening drag, turning his insides into molten lava. “More,” he moaned, dragging his nails down Phil’s back.

Phil moaned. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Burying his face in Dan’s neck, Phil started to thrust into him harder, deeper, high pitched moans falling from his lips. And then he felt it, Phil hit that spot inside of him again and again, and Dan desperately tried to take ahold of his own cock but Phil pinned his hands above his head. “Shhh, a bit more.”

Dan didn’t know exactly what Phil was referring to but he trusted him enough to let him handle his pleasure. Perhaps it was also the fact that giving up control felt incredible as well, being pinned under Phil, unable to pleasure himself and just receive what was given to him, even for a brief moment drove him mad. His toes curled and an intense wave of pressure coursed through his body until Phil thrust one last time and finished deep inside of him. That was all it took for him to release on their chests with a silent scream. The feeling was so intense that Dan felt overcome with emotions and couldn’t help the tears that ran down his cheeks.

“Are you alright? Did I hurt you?” Phil asked, pressing their lips together before chasing his tears away with kisses.

Dan wrapped his arms around him tightly. “No. It was perfect. I don’t know why I’m crying.”

“You can cry with me, you are safe,” Phil said, slowly pulling out and laying down beside him, pulling him closer. “You are so special, Dan.” He pressed a kiss to Dan’s temple. “Sleep. I’ll be here guarding your dreams.”

#phanfiction #phanfic #ospbb 2022 #succubusphan fics #game of thrones #got fic #phan

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randomnameless · 1 year

Note

I stumbled across one of your posts from a while ago where, in the tags, you compared Seteth caring more about Rhea telling Byleth the truth than whether or not she was safe at the end of Silver Snow to Kaze defecting to Nohr because of Corrin, in terms of the awfulness of the avatar worship.

While i agree with the former case being bad, i actually think that Kaze's defection is much more well-justified than Seteth suddenly caring more about Byleth than Rhea.

A fundamental part of Kaze's backstory and character is that he feels an immense amount of guilt for failing to save Corrin from being kidnapped by Nohr when he was supposed to be guarding them, to the point of said guilt getting him killed in Birthright if he doesn’t learn to move past his regrets and focus on the present by having a heart-to-heart with Corrin in their A-support; that, coupled with the fact that he only joins after personally witnessing Corrin go out of their way to avoid killing enemy soldiers, which concinces him that Corrin's plan to change Nohr from the inside in order to make it more a more peaceful place is true, makes it less avatar worship and more just a natural development for Kaze's estabilished character, imo.

Where i do think his motivation starts faltering is that the game doesn't really put in enough effort to address Kaze's feelings after Corrin's plan falls through and they have to go to war against Hoshido; the closest it gets to that is having him tell Corrin that siding with Hoshido wouldn't necessarily have been the best choice and that both Nohr and Hoshido think that they're fighting for the sake of justice in Chapter 17 of Conquest: (jp version, translated by fateswartable)

Kamui: ….

Suzukaze: Lady Kamui…

Kamui: Sorry, Suzukaze. Joining me must be painful for you.

Suzukaze: N- No, that’s…!

Kamui: Saizou, Kagerou… And all of the Hoshido shinobi defeated today… If I chose another path, we could have fought together.

Suzukaze: …That’s right. But, that doesn’t necessarily mean that’s the right way. Both Hoshido and Nohr too are fighting for justice. That’s something everyone should know. Even brother, surely.

Kamui: Yes… Thank you, Suzukaze…

While Kaze growing to think of Nohr as also fighting for it's own justice through his time living in the country, causing him to choose to fight for it over Hoshido, is an interesting direction to take his character in, it's kinda undercut by the fact that, not only does this development happen entirely off-screen, but that Kaze has no presence in Conquest's plot afterwards; the game never develops or expands on his newfound motivation after Chapter 17, forcing players to just settle for a throwaway line and the fact that he still feels bad for failing to protect Corrin as the only reasons why he's willing to fight and kill his own brother and former allies.

It's underdeveloped, to be sure, but i wouldn't call it a flaw caused by avatar worship, and certainly not as bad as Seteth, out of nowhere, not giving a fuck about Rhea's safety or location and only caring about her insofar as what she can tell Byleth about their origins.

Oh !

TBH, Fates's avatar wanking looks.... tame, compared to FE16 Supreme Leader wanking and Billy wanking.

But it's still... there.

I was re-reading the RD battle/talk quotes from Part 3, where Miccy's army and Ike's army fight, and how some people choose to fight against others for, uh, reasons -

Some Daien people are fighting because their king does, some do because the believe in Miccy and, well, some (Nailah, Kurth and Rafiel) know the truth, and how Miccy can't back down, else her people will die.

Nohr fighting for its own Justice in CQ always felt, well. Corrin saved Kaze, and wants to change Nohr from the inside.

However, in CQ (my mind is foggy?) Nohr is, iirc, invading Hoshido. It's not like a war where someone wants to erase someone else or pissed on a diplomatic proposal asking for reparations for a genocide, nope. In FE14, Nohr kills the Hoshidan Queen, and in CQ, well, conquers/invades Hoshido.

Even if Kaze learnt and witnessed how Nohrians aren't baby eating monsters in their everyday life (save for iago) why and how is them invading Hoshido any form of "justice"? Mc Guffin here and there means Gooron has to sit on the Hoshidan throne to turn into goo - and yet, even if deposing Gooron is the best thing to do to change Nohr from the inside, how can this (invasion to depose) be justified and bought by a Hoshidan as "Justice" and acceptable?

Maybe I'm too used to the FE14 lolcalisation, but Kaze pulling the "justice" card here is oddly reminiscent of Tru Piss Sylvain (I think?) who says they can't reason with the Kingdom they're invading because each party fights for their beliefs like Faerghus just wanting to exist

If Kaze became a green unit like Aerone or Gale (in FE6 iirc?) and died due to Iago Iago-ing or Hans Hans-ing I'd have prefered it to him joining on Conquest because of his guilt regarding Corrin and "witnessing him sparing soldiers". And yet, buying the "everyone fights for their own justice" and choosing Norh is, idk, strange. Maybe it would have been better if, as you said, his change of heart wasn't off-screen...

Coming from FE10 to FE14 was already kind of ultra meh in terms on dealing with the unit that became a turncoat, but FE16 takes it to new heights.

So yeah, I was exaggerating when I compared the Billy worship to Kaze lol, but I thought about it because it's the only pair of siblings I remember where an avatar inserts themselves in an existing relationship and effectively severs it.

Seteth not giving any fucks about Rhea (and to some extent, Flayn too, she's not mentionned in their A-S support, when, maybe shipping googles make a bit biased, his support with Manu talking about remarriage mention his daughter!) is completely wild, but just like everything in FE16, characters, the plot and the lore can be forgotten and torn apart if it means the player can be pandered to, via Billy or Supreme Leader.

#anon #replies #FE14 #FE16 #player pandering sucks #thanks for the 'everyone fights for their own justice' line #it would have made me furious back then #but now FE16 exists so #in french we have a proverb to mean something bad already existed but you notice it later #le ver est dans le fruit #but after FE16 the avatar wanking from FE14 feels so tame #like eating one peanut when FE16 is full on peanut butter #lizard family time?#only because I remembered that post and why I ranted about it lol

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bbq-hawks-wings · 2 years

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Maybe a little late to the party, but Seteth and/or Hawks for the character bingo?

Thank you for breaking the seal, my friend. I have been dying to give my thoughts on this character.

Just for context, the less opaque lilies is just me being a little facetious. Not here to make completely objective, absolute judgements; just here to have a good time. They're there just because I can't like a favorite character a normal amount.

His design? *chef's kiss* A delightfully balanced, simple-yet-ornate, straightforward, appealing masculine character design! The back of the cape, robe (sorry, folks, it clearly takes inspiration from the cassock, but for me it's a little too different from a standard cassock to call it that) and boots are all dark, creating a solid, imposing silhouette. The length of both cape and robe - and specifically from the front with the light cape lining - modestly shows off his conventionally attractive masculine figure.

No matter the wide, medium, or close up shots of him in any given scene you'll find all of these light, little ornament details that are not too distracting but are nonetheless elegant and sensibly placed. Assuming he's chosen to dress this way for himself as it's not like any uniform we've seen in the game, it's quite the interesting insight.

From a writing standpoint - he's so constantly full of little surprises?! Especially if you played Crimson Flower first, it's easy to get this overly stern, controlling, stubborn, intolerant, and insensitive impression of him; and it feels like a lot of players may have gotten stuck there because they didn't realize you have to read a lot into where he comes from and the person he used to be to really get the full scope of his character and how he thinks. Even as far back when you get his and Flayn's paralouge mission and notice his interrogations of Rhea in the school phase, the veil begins to lift if you pay attention.

He particularly shines in Silver Snow by virtue of being Byleth's advisor, and we get a lot of extra personal insight into him in that route that we don't get in any other - rarely ever directly or completely controlling tactical plans but nonetheless being indispensable and diligent in his role, lacking key information that we would assume he'd be privy to, proposing the single most culture-shaking lore drop of any character in the series (of which he was the single most diligent person hiding it up to that point) because the secrets cause nothing but trouble, and so on.

And the best part about it all is that it's easy to perceive him as this great, unflappable, pedestal-worthy mythical figure until you look a little closer and realize he was just Some Guy™ working at what was a random church at the time (maybe he was a priest?) who didn't get Thanos-snapped off the map when the rest of his species got nuked in a single night.

He is ultimately a very boring and straightforward person who has done awe-inspiring, difficult, and unbelievable things because he had to, and that's very sexy of him.

AND DON'T GET ME STARTED on how well his faith and spirituality is woven into who he is and why he does the things he does. The man has lost functionally everything from his old life and has basically given up any hope at living a happy, peaceful life with the much long-lasting companionship he craves to have.

Enter Byleth, this scraggly little nobody weirdo who shows up out of nowhere and turns the monastery on its head, magically fuses with THE Goddess, takes on major species identifiers that he assumed he'd never see again, drops off the face of the earth for five years after a major battle that changed the tide of history, and then she (I personally view F!Byleth as canon) just shows up one day again and says, "Hi! Sorry I was out. Fell asleep."

"Yes, yes that right. You fell asleep after sustaining heavy damage. Never woke up until you were done. Hey, it happens! Good to see you, by the way, want to help end a war? Oh thank you, Sothis, for the first break I've had in a millennium and it's a damn good one!" It's a wonder he didn't faint on the spot.

Things in life hit a little different when you're fundamentally religious in a way that can be hard to communicate. I rarely get to see that written very well so to see it in Seteth is quite the treat. He's a character whose historical plaque says, "It is said that he was a compassionate yet stern figure whose faith was so true he was able to perform miracles." yet you first meet him you can tell he's actively in the middle of a crisis of faith if you know where to look. By choosing to befriend him and develop him as a unit and a character, you help him grow and heal and move on in a way that's so respectful to him as a hypothetical person; and it was treated with so much care, particularly his religious world view, that it was especially moving to me and something I'm kind of sad I haven't seen discussed in the bits and pieces of fandom I've found so far. (Might get to see more with the new game!!!! *rubs hands together*)

Charming, intriguing, delightful, emotive, intelligent, compassionate, flawed, reasonable, fascinating, surprisingly relatable. Seteth gets an S rank with me. (And an S-support, too.)

#she speaks #character opinion bingo #ask game #seteth fe3h

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sealofreconciliation · 2 years

Text

Fates: was the story as bad as people say?: a response (Conquest 3/3)

Link to the original post here, link to playthrough with english patch here, link to fateswartable here.

> Corrin, you are literally bringing the war to Hoshido.

That line doesn't exist in the original script:

> Kamui: Yes… There’s nowhere to go but forward.

> Even if we must fight.

Also, Odo, you know what they meant by that, even in the localized script; they're convinced that winning the war for Nohr will bring peace to the land. This isn't in any way a contradiction, and you know that.

> Azura, this is your plan. This is on you.

When did she imply it wasn't on her? She just said that they're doing this for good reasons and can't afford to falter now; for the second time, what is this supposed to be a gotcha for, exactly?

> I feel like I should also point out that this "higher purpose" isn't to defeat Garon, but to convince the Nohrian siblings he has to be taken out. Innocents being mercilessly cut down in a senseless war of aggression is not enough to convince them.

They've been fighting in the war for years, if not decades; this is far from new to the Nohrian siblings, and if fighting in a war was enough to make them feel like betraying Garon, they'd have done so (and been executed for trying) years ago.

> Weren't thousands of Hoshidans too much for them earlier, but now they can take an impregnable fort? Corrin's group has yet to meet up with any Nohr reinforcements on screen.

Those same thousands of Hoshidans are currently busy defending the front entrance; the fort is almost certainly short-staffed at this point, if we assume that the Hoshidan army doesn't have an infinite amount of soldiers, which sounds reasonable to me.

> That is what they focus on during a war of aggression and in a battle facing off against their supposed sister's retainer. At this point I'm not even sure Corrin is aware of what they're doing or why.

Hana just went off on a psycho rant about how much she wants to kill Corrin and how she'll never forgive them, while also crying during that same speech; Corrin being confused at this supposed contradiction and wanting to understand why she's crying is a perfectly reasonable reaction.

> Sakura and Yukimura rightly protest, but then the chapter ends and it's time for the next chapter, which starts by informing us that Sakura, her retainers and Yukimura are alive and kept as hostages in their army.

Sakura and Yukimura were the only ones of the four that were kept alive:

> Kamui: We could’ve helped Yukimura and her two retainers if they were prisoners of war, but…

> Have you met with Sakura?

Chapter 25:

> Kamui: Sakura and Yukimura were kept alive properly as prisoners of war.

Corrin never states that Hana and Tsubaki were spared. It even makes sense as to why Sakura and Yukimura were left alive; Sakura's a member of royalty and Yukimura's Hoshido's main strategist. Being able to keep people like that hostage could come in handy, whereas Hana and Tsubaki aren't anyone of real importance.

I don't know what Corrin's talking about when he says that Yukimura wasn't taken as a prisoner of war though; he says the exact opposite just a few chapters later. I don't know if this was the translators's fault (the lines are practically identical between both the fateswartable and english patch translations) or the writers's, but if anyone knows Japanese and wants to double-check, fateswartable has the original kanji on the blog.

> Apparently, despite Garon making a big show of not allowing even his children to disobey, the game explains that Iago and Hans are afraid of Xander which is how he managed to convince them to leave the named characters alive, but...what happened to Garon and his orders?

Xander never ordered that. I looked through both of my sources for where that's stated, and it's nowhere to be found in either, leading me to assume that this was a localization change.

> Apparently some people now target Corrin and the Nohrian royal siblings for wanting to keep Sakura alive.

No they don't:

> Aqua: …You lead an army with Marx and Leon, while King Garon leads a force with Ganz and Macbeth.

> Your ways of suppressing Hoshido are vastly different…

> In this state, it wouldn’t be strange if there was internal strife.

> With Garon’s convenient early arrival, we run the risk of losing his trust and the trust of our allies.

> We have to get him on that throne… we cannot afford not to.

She's just telling Corrin to hurry it up before they lose Garon's trust; nowhere is it mentioned that people are straight-up rebelling and trying to kill Corrin and Azura just because they took Sakura hostage.

> He's also often talking about peace as if Hoshido is just a pesky little roadblock which is throwing a fit over being invaded.

Setting aside that he never mentions peace in the jp script, yeah, he doesn't actively see Hoshido as much more than a roadblock to Garon's recovery at this point; he's been at war with it for years, and thinking of it as if it's innocent won't do much to help his already troubled conscience.

> This is a major support character who the game tries very hard to portray as a sympathetic, older brother figure, despite him being lacking in morals and easily manipulated.

Every FE character is lacking in morals. Good people don't go around killing hundreds if not thousands of people, only to be perfectly mentally stable and be willing to have (possibly humorous) unrelated discussions with their fellow mass-murderers afterwards. If we try to apply any sort of real-life morality into the Fire Emblem verse, there are very few characters in the franchise that wouldn't be classified as sociopaths.

Also, where did the easily manipulated come from, exactly? I guess you could argue that Xander manipulates himself by making himself believe that Garon will go back to being a good guy if he gets what he wants and that, as such, he should serve him, but that particular manipulation vanishes as soon as he gets rid of Garon; he never shows himself to be easily manipulated by other people elsewhere in the game.

Lastly, even if i give you that Xander isn't the best person morally, what does that have to do with him being sympathetic? You can think someone is morally abhorrent while still sympathizing with them.

> At this point, Corrin has led the invasion personally and engaged the Hoshidan forces multiple times already. Hinoka says this line even without knowing that Sakura is still alive. She has no reason to think Corrin is on the Hoshidan side, as she puts it, and should be furious with the protagonist.

Corrin just refused to kill her or her soldiers, in defiance of Garon's orders since he just told her that she needs to hide, meaning Nohr wanted her dead. Her trying to convince Corrin to rejoin Hoshido isn't that far-fetched given that they're clearly in disagreement with Nohr high command.

More importantly, you underestimate how much Hinoka cares about Corrin. She was clearly upset at them when she thought that they were only interested in taking the castle and blew off her attempts to appeal to their sentimentality, and being shown that they do still care about her and want to minimize casualties if possible was what made her go back to liking them; someone can still care about someone who's done bad things to them, especially if they find out that it was done for better reasons than what they originally thought.

> Please note that Hinoka blushes here. She thinks Takumi is dead, that Ryoma will fall, and her people and country are dying all around her, and she's blushing because Camilla flirted with her. This causes a tremendous tonal whiplash and ruins whatever tension the scene was going for.

Moments of levity are allowed in darker stories, and it's not like it doesn't make sense in-universe. This just means that Hinoka's momentarily embarassed about receiving compliments from Camilla, not that she's forgotten about the war raging on around her. Whether or not it causes tonal whisplash is subjective, which would be fine were it not for a certain statement in the last post, but i'll get there later.

> Hinoka at this point is more concerned with Ryoma hurting Corrin than the other way around, despite the latter bringing an army into Ryoma's castle with the intention of conquering it in Nohr's name.

The original script is more ambiguous than this:

> Hinoka: Big brother Ryouma...

> Please, Kamui...

This can just as easily be interpreted as her asking Corrin not to kill Ryoma as it can be the other way around. Again, these posts would have benefitted immensely from comparing the jp script to the localized one before making claims about what characters said or did.

> Taking a break from just describing the events of the chapters, I've got to ask something: why are the Hoshidan royals spread out like this? You face them one at a time for four chapters in a row, and they're just waiting for you to come to them.

It's easier and safer to beat back an invading army when fighting from well-fortified positions instead of trying to engage with them at random.

> Even if Hoshido is fighting an uphill battle, why is their strongest warrior, Ryoma, and his elite ninja retainers, just sitting in a castle and waiting to be challenged?

The king is a pretty important player in a war; as much as i wish more time was spent explaining why and how Ryoma went from being a brash and hot-headed man who went behind enemy lines just at the chance of getting Corrin back, to wisely and patiently waiting at the best defended part of Hoshido as it's last line of defense, lest the Hoshidan army's morale drop if it's leader is taken out, it still makes sense logistically.

> This, and the Yato lighting up for a moment, is all it takes to convince Ryoma that Corrin is on their side, but keep in mind Corrin has personally led armies to take down a fort, a wall leading to the capital, and the forces outside the castle. They have been an active leader in this war and made it easier for Nohr to invade, not more difficult. Corrin's intentions, no matter how noble, should not excuse their actions thus far in Ryoma's eyes.

They've also spared Ryoma, told him to kill them on the spot if he thought they were lying about having spared Hinoka and Sakura, pleaded to his sentimentality by pulling the sibling card, and most importantly of all, the Yato, the sword that only chooses someone who'll save the world one day, is not only still serving Corrin, but has shown signs to Ryoma's face of evolving like the Rainbow Sage said it would when the time was right; i'm iffy on how Ryoma knows about that aspect of the Yato, but the Rainbow Sage could have just told him so when he visited, especially since he can see the future and should know that Ryoma would need some convincing later on. I'm perfectly fine with him believing Corrin's words given all that context.

> Corrin has also stood idly by while innocents were murdered, and regardless of what you think of their ability to do something about it, it rings hollow to hear Corrin be so confident over what they're doing is right. Corrin has done nothing to earn this confidence and there's still no guarantee Garon will sit on the throne or that it'll work.

The bolded line doesn't exist in the jp script, which i assume is what Odo is referring to with this point.

Even if we disregard that and focus on the localization, i'm still fine with Corrin being so confident; the ending of Chapter 19 and pretty much all of Chapter 20 were dedicated to having Corrin convince themselves that what they're doing will have been worth it in the end thanks to their being reassured by Azura, when she tells them not to give up on their chosen path halfway through lest everything they've sacrificed be for naught, and by Fuga, when he tells them that the Yato didn't make any mistakes when it chose them and that they're still destined to save the world. I don't much like the tone of the added line myself, but looking at it objectively, it's just a continuation of Corrin's previous character arc.

> I want to reiterate that: Ryoma is proud that Corrin is conquering Hoshido. What exactly did Ryoma expect of Corrin at this point? With the Nohrians having won the war and the crown prince dead, what part of the plan - which he didn't know about - made him proud of Corrin?

I don't know if this line was added in by the localization or what, but Azura never states that Ryoma was proud of Corrin, in either of the translations i've seen; she just says that he died with a smile and entrusted the future of Hoshido to them. He's not happy that they're conquering Hoshido, he's happy because he believed that Corrin had some sort of plan to fix things after the fact in his dying moments. I already explained why it makes sense for Ryoma to trust Corrin two paragraphs ago.

> Iago tries to attack Corrin from behind because they're a traitor for letting Hinoka live, and he's somehow surprised that the other Nohrian siblings actually defend Corrin.

He's surprised that the Nohrian siblings would commit blatant treason against Garon by attacking and killing his personal strategist, a high-ranking general, and large swathes of the Nohrian army when they've been so afraid of disobeying him before. I don't think it's too weird for him to not have predicted that they'd come up with the “oh some Hoshidan reinforcements arrived and killed all those people in a fight, how unlucky for us” excuse to Garon.

> So, Garon is in the other room, but this is when Corrin chooses to order the death of Iago, Hans, and "the king's army" (likely that bloodthirsty half conveniently gathered in one room),

It's never stated that half of the Nohrian army is loyal to Corrin in the jp script, only an undefined and vague amount of it. I presume that the 50-50 part was added in by the localization. Assuming that Azura meant that most of the army was more loyal to Garon than Corrin in that convo, this is a lot less convenient.

> Could I ask what Iago's role in the game was?

To do Garon's bidding for him when he couldn't/wouldn't, thanks to his magical skills (poisoning Elise and somehow convincing Ryoma to use that as an opportunity to ambush Corrin, for example), and to provide more chapters, scenarios and bosses. I'm not going to pretend he has much depth to speak of, but having a character in a story that mostly serves as a reocurring obstacle that the protagonists aim to overcome eventually is a perfectly fine role, and Iago fulfills that well enough.

> The best answer I can think of is that Iago produces filler chapters, and he's there to be hated by the player for being so unfair to Corrin so it'll feel good when he's taken out, but he's got no character or motivation of his own, and all his authority stems from Garon, so he's not one of those bastards worthy of hating; he's just filler. Padding.

He does start killing the Hoshidan civilians that were bad-mouthing the Nohrian army on a whim; even if we were to excuse the rest of his evil deeds throughout the story as obedience to Garon, that's still a pretty evil thing that he did of his own volition.

> Corrin not even trying to prepare their siblings for this, or find some alternate route which would've involved far fewer dead people, reflects very poorly on their judgement.

I don't think there's much of a way to prepare someone for the revelation that their father's been dead for the last decade and a half. Again, i don't see why it's so hard to believe that the Nohrian siblings wouldn't have just blindly believed Corrin's claim when they don't even have any evidence to back it up.

I adressed the “alternate route” point in my previous post; ditto for the upcoming “why didn't Azura show the rest of the siblings the crystal ball?” point. Anyone reading this can go there to see my responses; I'm not going to rehash myself here.

> Keep in mind that this man has on multiple occasions lauded Corrin's leadership skills,

What does being a good leader have to do with the possibility that they're trying to deceive the siblings into betraying Garon by lying about his state? Wouldn't their being good at leadership be a neccessary component for such deception, if only to gain more power and trust in the Nohrian army?

> saw them turn their back on Hoshido in chapter six,

So they didn't intend on betraying Garon as soon as they left Hoshido; what's stopping Xander from assuming that Corrin's idea was made up during the war instead of at the start?

> and was there to kill Iago, Hans, and half the royal army just last chapter.

After Iago tried to kill them for commiting treason and Xander and the rest of the siblings helped Corrin fight them off more because they liked Corrin, didn't like Iago, and could get away with doing that while Garon was in the throne room. Xander literally knows at this point that Corrin's willing to subvert Garon's orders for their own benefit; wouldn't the entirety of Chapter 26 be even more reason for him to believe that Corrin was up to shady shit, and warn them against it due to the fact that they still stand by Garon and wouldn't let them off the hook like they did Iago if it turned out that they just tried to manipulate the siblings into killing their father?

> 1) Xander says that Garon would never have used his strength to attack his own children, but we've repeatedly seen Garon indulge in unnecessary cruelty. Conquest began with Xander overhearing an evil monologue his "father" held about how much he wanted Corrin to suffer. Yes, he's not personally using his own strength to attack his children but he's using his authority as a king for the explicit purpose of making Corrin's life a living hell.

Where did you get the idea that Xander was referring to start of game Garon when he said that? He's pretty clearly talking about the Garon from a long time ago, prior to him going off the deep end, which Xander now knows happened because he'd been possessed; the fact that possessed Garon wanted to make Corrin suffer has nothing to do with Xander's claim that pre-possession Garon would never have done such a thing.

> 2) Xander admits that the war was meaningless but that he fought just hoping that Garon would return to normal. This is supposed to be a good guy, and who knows how many innocents died because of Xander and Corrin's whims.

Humans are flawed; it's unfortunate that Xander's love for his father led to needless deaths, but that doesn't make him a bad guy for being unwilling to kill his own father in cold blood; there's also something to be said about whether or not he'd even be able to do that, but the game doesn't give enough info on the subject for me to make a strong argument either way.

Besides, i'll repeat myself: what's the standard of morality like in the Fates world? Humans there, and in most of Fire Emblem tbf, are capable of killing hundreds of people at a time, often in very personal ways, and come out of said battles none the worse for wear mentally, and that's not taking into account the differences in culture and behavior that would have to exist in a world that's clearly supposed to parallel our own medieval era but with magic, animal people, concrete evidence of fate existing, and other supernatural shit in it. Whatever makes someone a “good guy” in our world, however vague said definition already is even just in the context of the real world's own wildly inconsistent definitions, is extremely likely to be worthless if applied to Nohrshido, or even just Xander's, likely morality.

> 3) You cannot, I repeat, you cannot base the Nohrian siblings' reluctance to fight Garon on a few hints of how he used to be long before the game began. I feel like this should be obvious, and this is one of the most common excuses to defend the Nohrian siblings for their actions. They're in denial, or abused, or in a state of doublethink. The list can be made long, but here's the problem: that's not how writing a coherent story and characters works. This is "tell, don't show" taken to its absolute extreme, a cardinal sin for this kind of medium.

Explain, with actual arguments this time instead of just this “it's bad because we're only told instead of shown why the siblings care about Garon, and that's bad because you're not supposed to only tell instead of show in a game, and that's bad because we're only told instead of shown why the siblings care about Garon” circular logic bullshit, why i, as an audience member, am not allowed to take pieces of information scattered throughout a story and use them to inform the motivations of characters, even if it's only stated, and why “Tell don't show” is even inherently bad for video games to do. This is phenomenally bad rhetoric, even for these posts.

> The Nohrian siblings adore Corrin; they respect and trust them so much that they praise the protagonist in practically every chapter in one way or another. On the other side of the spectrum, they're consistently shown to be horrified by Garon's cruelty and go out of their way to disobey his orders when possible, according to Leo.

What is this a response to? This just means thay they like Garon more than Corrin, like Garon enough not to be willing to kill him or be killed themselves by disobeying an order in front of him, trying to minimize damage if possible, and doesn't do anything to supplement Odo's previous point of “never tell instead of showing”, a point in desperate need of supporting evidence btw.

> it's as if we're to assume they're loyal to this monster by default no matter how much he goes against everything they stand against. We've already seen Leo execute two people who go against what he thinks should be the Nohrian way, and yet we're expected to believe he can't see why Garon has to go because of some implied, vague memories of how he used to be?

He also disliked both Iago and Zola on a personal level because he didn't like their cowardice, and sparing them would only have caused him and the other siblings to get executed when they inevitably reported back to Garon; he actually likes his father, unlike the other two, and as such won't try to kill him over a perceived flaw of his character, even if it goes against what he believes in. Again, this is demanding that humans be robots who have never-changing belief systems and betray and kill anyone who threatens said beliefs, emotion and history be damned.

> Some people may now say "they were afraid of being executed", to which I say: fine, then don't make them out to be heroes. They just conquered an entire nation and are responsible for a lot of people dying simply because they were afraid.

Firstly, it's not one or the other; it's both. The nohrian siblings still loved Garon too much to up and kill him, AND were afraid for their lives if they disobeyed, probably because they knew they couldn't take him down by themselves. Framing the two choices as if they're mutually exclusive is disingenuous.

Secondly, the game doesn't try to portray them as heroes. Xander all but admits that they were in the wrong for invading Hoshido, even if they tried to minimize some casualties, and vows to do better to stop Nohr from repeating those same mistakes come the ending of Conquest. Does that sound like someone who the game's trying to portray as being on the right side of the conflict to you?

> That's not being a hero, that's being Hetzel from Radiant Dawn except if he personally lit Serenes Forest ablaze because Lekain told him to.

I have no idea what you're referencing, but i assume this Hetzel works for Lekain and is portrayed by RD as being some sort of coward for obeying an immoral command in order to save his own life. Different games can portray loyalty in different ways, so i don't understand the comparison, even if i were to give you, for the sake of the argument, that the nohrian siblings are ONLY doing this out of fear and that the game's trying to portray them as heroes for doing so (which they aren't and which it isn't).

> Even if they were afraid, they were obviously ready to kill Iago, Hans, and half the royal army with Garon in the next room.

After they made it clear that they thought Garon wouldn't be able to see or hear them in there and that they'd make up an excuse to rid themselves of the blame for killing all those people afterwards; this falls firmly on the “obeys orders unless possible to get away with disobeying them without getting themselves killed in the process” clause of their loyalty.

> If you still think the Nohrian siblings are good people, or that they can be excused because they were abused/in denial, let me just ask you one thing: do you think that the game which cannot even get the most basic of logistics right, which manages to make supposed major support characters completely superfluous in the main story, which refuses to answer or even ask the most basic questions characters would have, actually manages to properly convey complex family ties and tackles heavy themes such as family abuse to a satisfactory degree?

Great, the Flora suicide brand of genetic fallacy rears it's ugly head again. “The game has bad writing at certain points, how can you argue that it has good writing at other points?!?!”

I had a long enough rant about this argument in my response to the second part of Odo's Birthright analysis and don't wish to repeat myself; you can see it here if you want.

> Even if you say yes to that, then I hope you at least acknowledge that not nearly enough time was dedicated to portray the siblings' mental states and twisted affection for Garon for it to have the desired impact in the plot.

I'll acknowledge that it would have been nice to have scenes showcasing a pre-possession Garon being nice to the nohrian siblings, but at that point it's just a matter of preference; some people are going to buy the nohrian siblings's affection and loyalty to Garon even with only scattered lines of dialogue throughout the story as to why they care about him, and some aren't. I don't think people should have to claim that something's a problem when said potential problem is so subjective, and they themselves might not even see it as an issue with the story in the first place.

I've already addressed the arguments in the next two paragraphs before, so onto a (relatively) new point:

> This is why Corrin's self-pity rings so hollow, and why all the talk about them bringing about peace sounds more like a parody than anything else. They believe in the path they've chosen, which is absolutely littered with the corpses of the innocent. Not once do they even question the Nohrian siblings' lack of a moral compass either, despite them seemingly thinking that peace can only happen when all other people have been subjugated. Are these really the people who'll bring about world peace?

Peace can, and often does, come at the cost of innocent lives. I don't blame you, or anyone else, for disagreeing with and/or disliking that message, but it isn't contradicting anything when the fact that good people sometimes have to do bad things for the sake of the improvement of the world is a pretty consistent part of Conquest.

> Corrin hasn't known Takumi for, what, more than a day at this point, and after that they've been enemies. I get not wanting to kill the bloke, and in this timeline they still think they're blood related, but this man is still a stranger to them.

Again, Corrin's reaction was toned up by the localization:

> Kamui: That's...!

> Then, you're saying there's no other way than to defeat him!?

> That he's just like Father!

He's just upset that he's going to have to kill Takumi despite the fact that the war's over, which he dislikes because he doesn't normally enjoy killing people. Their bond (or lack thereof) isn't particularly important in this scenario.

> I'm also not sure how Corrin can still call Garon their father. The prologue alone is enough to make Corrin absolutely hate Garon, as evidenced by Birthright, and yet after all the suffering and carnage the slime monster inflicted on the world, the protagonist still calls Garon "father".

It looks weird in the localization, i'll grant you that, but as i've shown in my previous paragraph, it looks more like they call him that out of habit more than out of respect for Garon, or at least the slime version of him.

> Ryoma, you died failing to keep your nation safe from Corrin and you have no reason to call them kind.

He directly stated that he was entrusting Hoshido's safety to whatever plan Corrin had as he was dying from ripping out his own guts; dislike that as much as you want, but that line is perfectly consistent with Ryoma's estabilished character and motivations in his death scene.

He also doesn't call them kind in the jp script, but even i'll concede that that's a nitpick; he still says that they have a strong heart due to all the pain and suffering they endured to get to this point, so the sentiment is basically the same. I'm iffy on how Ryoma knows what Corrin did or didn't do, but the assumption that they didn't like doing it is a safe one given what he knows about their personality and motivation.

> Also, the Yato chose Corrin to conquer your kingdom and kill Takumi?

That, or to kill Garon, or to kill Anankos. Ryoma knows about the Yato and knows that whoever it chooses is destined to save the world one day, so i don't see why he shouldn't be able to put two and two together and realize that Corrin's going to bring peace in the end.

Also, Takumi is right there with Ryoma in the weird pseudo-afterlife place; he could have easily told him and Mikoto that he killed himself due to some demon's possession, not because of Corrin.

> Alright, so, this is just downright character assassination in order to absolve Corrin of the moral dilemma of having agreed to Azura's insane plan. Takumi knew Corrin for a very, very short while, and during that time, Corrin brought the evil sword to Hoshido which killed Mikoto and triggered the war, then they went back to Nohr and helped in the invasion of Hoshido. Takumi didn't even trust Corrin before that; why does he want to look up to Corrin after everything that has happened?

Neither of the bolded lines exist in the jp script:

> Takumi: Thank you. If you and i had fought together, i wonder how reassured i would have been.

> Kamui. The truth is, i really... i wanted to get along as siblings. I wanted to call you sister. I should have said so properly when i was still me...

> But because of my stubbornness, i was determined not to show my true feelings...

> ...I'm sorry.

He never says anything to imply that he still admires Corrin or wants to befriend them after what happened in Conquest, only that he did in the prologue but was too shy to try and reach out to them. We know that Takumi had already started being possessed and having his negative feelings amplified as early as Chapter 10, which not only means that Takumi was genuinely angry at Corrin for their betrayal, otherwise Anankos wouldn't have been able to use his already existing anger and resentment to possess him, but also that, even if we interpret that line as Takumi saying that he still wanted to befriend Corrin even after the route split, that only counts for Chapter 6; he'd already stopped being himself next the two of them meet.

> Conquest, repeatedly and explicitly, excuses Corrin's actions and tries to portray their actions as justified and sensible even though it includes the destruction of Hoshido.

> I'd also expect the game to not be so cowardly as to excuse any and all wrongdoings the protagonist makes. Or, rather, pretend they weren't wrongdoings to begin with.

Give examples. Takumi saying that he wished he wasn't as mean to them during Chapter 5 isn't proof of anything other than the game being consistent with his character.

> I can't help but wonder what he's talking about here, as we've seen nothing of the sort from Hoshido,

The phrasing in the localization is weird, but the jp script makes it pretty clear that Xander's only talking about Nohr at this point:

> Marx: In the last war...

> No, even long before the war began, Nohr soured relations with the people of Hoshido. The king's rule included tyranny and plundering. Rebellions erupted across the land without cease. But i...

> Never again do i want the people - of either country - to see such atrocity.

It's not impossible to interpret it that way in the localization, but it's a lot easier to assume that Xander's talking about both kingdoms due to the way it's phrased there.

> I just want to know what the "misconception about Nohrians" is; Corrin and Xander very much did fight in Hoshido for Nohr.

Hinoka only says she's going to try and clear up misconceptions about Corrin and Xander in the jp script, not the entire Nohrian army.

Besides, do the civilians know why they invaded? Assuming that they did that for personal conquest/glory and knowing that they did so because they believed it'd bring peace to the land (Corrin) or out of fear and/or love (Xander) are two pretty different things, especially when Corrin and Xander tried their hardest to minimize bloodshed.

And even going with the localized version, yeah, it's pretty unfair to judge an entire kingdom's worth of people, even the peasants, because of the actions of it's military and leaders. I don't see any issue with her trying to get her people to stop being racist, even if it's unlikely to work.

> In the real world I think Hinoka's reign would've been a short one with this attitude.

Elaborate. In the real world, assuming everything else that happened in the game remained the same, i genuinely don't see what about Hinoka's attitude would cause her to fail as a leader. I wish there was more here for me to respond to, but this point is way too vague for me to make a response that doesn't require me to guess at what Odo meant by that statement.

> The Ice Tribe, the first battles against Takumi and Ryoma, Azura's performance, the Kitsune, the Wind Tribe, all of Iago's maps...none really altered Corrin's course; there was no direction before chapter 15, and afterwards there was no veering off the path laid out before them.

The ice tribe was the first time that Corrin received evidence that it was possible for them to stay in Nohr without compromising their morals, estabilishing their goal until Chapter 15; the first fight with Takumi set up the fact that there was something wrong with him; the first fight with Ryoma was a show of Corrin's resolve to follow their chosen path to the end, choosing to fight for their right to stay in Nohr over going back to Hoshido; Azura's perfomance led to Garon ordering mass executions on a whim in front of Corrin, causing them to be convinced that Garon couldn't be reasoned with anymore; the Kitsune slaughter serves to make them start doubting whether or not their path will actually lead to peace after they just finished killing dozens of innocent (relatively; the Kitsune attacked first and did so unprovoked, but the team was the one who entered their territory first despite knowing about the rumors, so they're still at fault too) people, only to be reassured after fighting Fuga and putting their trust in the Yato, due to his knowledge on the legendary sword and him claiming that Corrin was indeed worthy to use it, meaning that they were genuinely destined to bring peace to the world one day; Iago's second attempt to kill the team led to the conclusion of Corrin's character arc in Conquest, with Xander reassuring them and telling them to never back down or waver even if they lose a comrade.

I'll give you that Chapter 7 is filler, but every other chapter you mentioned is pretty important to the story and/or characters.

> The developers could've dedicated themselves to a full-blown villain route, but likely didn't because they were afraid the available routes wouldn't been seen as morally equal.

More likely than even that, they didn't do it becuase it wouldn't have made any sense for Corrin's character for that to happen. Unless they did some weird shit with the prologue where, as soon as you picked Conquest, the game rewinded to the start and retconned Corrin into being an evil person, there'd be no way to have a villain route in the game where Corrin's the protagonist.

> Basically, Corrin talks about walking the path of darkness for the greater good, no matter who will end up hating them, but all the important characters excuse, understand, trust and love them regardless.

Eh. The Hoshidan royals (bar maybe Takumi) still like (or liked) them, sure, but pretty much all of their retainers express their distaste for Corrin whenever they fight them personally, Yukimura's last line in the story is him calling Corrin a cowardly monster and that he'll never forgive them, and most of Hoshido hates them for what they did, according to Hinoka. Corrin was completely right in their assessment that people would hate them for choosing this path, looking at it objectively.

The post ends here, so final thoughts:

Surprisingly enough, i actually think this was a step up from the first, and especially the second, part of the Conquest analysis. Many of my issues with these are still present and accounted for, but aside from the attempts at portraying the game as wrong for claiming that Corrin's path wasn't a mistake being especially pronounced this go around, there wasn't anything new for me to complain about!

It's not quite as good as the prologue analysis, but it's probably the second best post so far.

I'll see y'all later.

#fire emblem fates #corrin fire emblem #fire emblem #story analysis #reddit #ryoma fire emblem #xander fire emblem #fe conquest #takumi fire emblem

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obxsummer · 3 years

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Bend the Rules // JJ Maybank

jj maybank x kook!reader

summary: being a kook isn't as nice as it seems and jj's tired of watching you crumble every morning at the words of your parents. enough is enough in his book, and he's determined to get you away from that life if it's the last thing he does.

warnings: cursing, verbally abusive parents

part of #obx2celebration

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Being a Kook wasn’t as easy as it seemed. Sure, your family was rich and you had a lot of nice things but that didn’t mean your life wasn’t hard. Your parents expected a lot from you. They had dreams of you going off to a private university, marrying some rich kid and you’d never work a day in your life. Now, that would be great, however, if you weren’t already in love with someone else. Not to mention, you were tired of your parents making every decision for you. You never had a moment to breathe without them watching.

All of that disappeared the moment you met JJ Maybank.

You had gone to one of the infamous keggers and from the second you started talking with him, it was game over. JJ brought the adventure and adrenaline you craved away from your home life. Your parents hated him, of course, but JJ wasn’t one to let someone tell him what to do, especially when it came to you. He has slowly watched you begin to come out of your shell and settle in as you became more comfortable with who you were. That, he loved more than anything and he wasn’t about to let someone change that for you.

“Babes…” Your voice was soft as you laid curled up on JJ's side. The two of you had spent the night together at John B’s with your friends, but nothing beat moments like this with your boy. He groaned, annoyed that you were trying to wake him from his sleep as he tugged you closer and kept his eyes shut. You smiled, stifling a laugh as you twisted in his grip to grab your phone off the nightstand where it had been charging. The smile on your face disappeared in seconds as you read through the overwhelming amount of messages from both of your parents about your location and what you needed to do today.

“Quit that.” JJ’s morning voice was rough on your neck as you continued to scroll through the texts. His eyes were still closed, but he knew exactly what you were doing anyway. You did the same exact thing every morning when you were with him, and it broke his heart to see your day crumble at the start from the harsh words on the screen. “Babe, seriously, put it down.”

“Sorry,” You apologized with a deep breath but you didn’t stop scrolling through them against his wishes. You hated this as much as JJ did, but over the years you had become conditioned to what your parents wanted. It wasn’t new to you anymore. “I can’t stay long, Mom wants me at lunch with the Thorntons.”

You twisted to climb out from under the covers and move to the bathroom to get ready for the day as JJ burst into a bubble of complaints on the bed at the lack of your presence. You knew it upset him to see you go through this, and you hated every bit of it too, but they were your parents and you owed them for what you had. It was only fair, they would say.

The reflection in the mirror was nowhere close to what your mom would want, you knew that instantly. With a sigh, you exited back into the bedroom where JJ was sitting on the bed with your phone in hand as he scrolled through the messages your parents had sent. He looked up at the creak of the door to see you had entered. He held your phone up higher. “You’re seriously just going to let them talk to you like this?”

You shrugged and pulled your shoes on. “You know how they are, J,” You mumbled in a half-assed defense. You were tired of brushing off their behavior too but they were still your parents at the end of the day, you just hated that the relationship was like this. It was an endless battle of back and forth. The few times you did stand up for yourself ended with not seeing JJ for days to weeks and you couldn’t keep putting him through that at your fault.

Lunch with the Thorntons wasn’t the worst thing ever, minus Topper bitching nonstop about how Sarah chose John B over him. You were tired of listening to him bad mouth your friend, but eventually he would stop when his mom gave him a stern look. The country club was slowly crowding throughout the afternoon but your mind was only on JJ and if he was out surfing with the rest of the Pogues with the warm sun on his bare back.

“Y/N, are you even listening to Topper’s story?” Your mom’s voice was harsh as she snapped you back to reality. You had zoned out, reminiscing on the fun from last night that you were craving so badly to pull you out of your head.

You looked up to her sharp glare and nodded. “Sorry, Top,” You mumbled as she continued to eyeball you. The blond boy next to you gave you a sympathetic look, his foot gently nudging yours. Nobody in the OBX was a stranger to your parents, but even your Kook friends felt sympathy for you. Topper and Sarah always did their best to help you when you were around their families, but sometimes nobody could stop your mom’s snappy comments.

“Topper, would you be interested in taking Y/N to the Winter Solstice Dance?” Your mom’s comment had your heart sinking in your chest.

“Mom, I was going to ask JJ if he would come,” You disagreed as you began to slowly panic. Winter Solstice was the Midsummer’s of December. You had always gone to hide with Sarah to waste the time away, but your parents had never insisted that you go with someone else.

Your mom scoffed at your boyfriend’s name. “Honey, Winter Solstice is no place for a Pogue like JJ, you know that. I’m sure Topper would be a lovely acquaintance for the night and would treat you much better than that troublemaker could.”

“He’s not a troublemaker, Mom,” You tried to defend JJ as best as possible. “He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

She laughed at the response and waved you off. “I know what’s best for you dear, and a Maybank is certainly not it.”

Eventually, your mom dismissed you to go for a walk with Topper, claiming your attitude was “distasteful” and that you were killing the mood, so you left without another word. Topper was always great company for you considering you two had been friends for years and he wasn’t opposed to getting away from the Mom Talk of the afternoon.

“Look, if you want me to lie for you at Solstice, I can,” He offered as you two walked on the beach surrounding the Island Club. His hands were tucked in his pockets, eyes scanning the water before he looked back at you.

You shook your head slowly. “It’s okay, Top. I just hate hiding JJ like this. No offense, but I want to go with him. Winter Solstice used to be my favorite event of the year and I feel like she’s taking that from me too.”

“So take JJ,” He stated but then recovered the blunt statement. “No, I mean you and I can act like everything’s going to your mom’s plan and then at the last second, you bring JJ in.”

You paused your walking to stop and look at him. “You’d do that for me?”

Topper laughed, “Y/N, you’ve sat under your mom’s hands for the entirety of your life. Why not take something back, just for once? For you?”

He was far from wrong. In fact, it was the most factual statement you had heard in years and it struck you deep. This was something you could take back for you, for JJ, and you could do it in the most public way possible.

“You literally don’t know how much this meant so to me.” Moving forward, you wrapped Topper in a tight hug as tears burned your eyes. You had waited so long for an opportunity like this to slip into your hand and you were so grateful that one of your friends, a Kook friend nonetheless, was willing to help you stand up to your parents.

Topper returned the gesture, squeezing you tightly. “It’s really not a problem, Y/N/N. Now, call JJ and tell him he better not fuck this up because I’m not getting embarrased by a Pogue.”

JJ swore he’d never agree to Kook terms in his life, but for once he was pleasantly surprised by Topper’s generosity to help you for the night. You had begged him to just follow it through, knowing that JJ would disagree as soon as he knew a Kook was involved. It hadn’t taken much convincing though, especially when JJ realized the gravity this opportunity would have against your parents’ control.

You were finishing up last minute touches to your hair when Topper knocked on your door frame. “Ready?” He asked as he leaned against the wall.

You stepped out of your bathroom to meet his gaze. The light blue of your outfit fit well with his black tux but you knew JJ had borrowed John B’s navy suit and that would look even better for your moment. You gave Topper a small smile before slipping your feet into your shoes.

“You look incredible, Y/N,” He complimented as he blinked in surprise. Topper had seen you dressed to the nines before but it had never been like this. You had gone all out, knowing this would be your entrance with JJ, and that meant so much to you.

“Same to you,” You returned before turning your lights off and walking towards him. Your heart was racing with nerves at the idea of this actually working perfectly. Topper offered his arm to you before the two of you stepped down the stairs where your parents were eagerly awaiting pictures.

When you climbed in Topper’s Porsche, you let out a sigh of relief. The two of you were riding separately, claiming you wanted some time together before the big event which only brought a bigger smile to your mom’s face, but you refused to let it bring down the mood.

“JJ’s here?” Topper confirmed once you pulled up to the Island Club. He parked near the back door, knowing that’s where you two would walk in undetected.

You nodded. “John B’s here with Sarah, and Kie’s got Pope so he came with them. They’re the only other ones who know.”

Topper reached over and squeezed your shoulder. “Let’s do this then.”

The brisk December air was cool on your skin as the two of you climbed out and made your way to the back door where Kie would be waiting to let you in. The party had barely begun, with important individuals making their announcements before everyone would enter. You and Topper had driven the long way, giving your parents time to get ahead of you so they would arrive first.

“There you are!” Kie’s voice was hushed as you and Topper walked through the door. You rolled your eyes at her worrying before flipping her off. Eyes moved quickly before you found JJ looking right at you with literal heart eyes. You practically jumped into his arms, nerves dissolving at his warm, loving touch. The two of you stood there for a moment amongst the chaos before letting go.

JJ leaned forward, pressing a rushed kiss to your lips. He was nervous himself, but he was so proud of you for taking this step. “You ready?”

You nodded. “Thank you for coming,” You whispered as you kissed him again. There was nothing but comfort in JJ’s presence and you were so happy that you were about to do this with him.

“Hey,” Topper tugged your sleeve lightly to grab your attention as you turned to face him. “Have fun, please. Seriously.” You gave him a smile and nodded, whispering a thank you before he stepped aside to lean against the wall.

As Sarah and John B walked together to the awaiting crowd, you squeezed JJ’s hand tightly. “You sure you wanna do this with me?” You asked, fearful he may not want the backlash that was lingering outside those doors.

JJ turned towards you, gently placing his hands on your cheeks as he kissed your forehead. “Y/N, baby, for once in your life, do what you want. Be selfish. Don’t worry about me, okay? We’re doing this for you.” His arms were so warm as they wrapped around your waist, tugging you into the comfort of his chest to hug you tightly. “I can’t wait to see the look on their faces.”

“Me too,” You giggled and stepped out of his grasp to loop your arm through his as the two of you faced the open doors. “Let’s do this.” The yard of the Island Club was lit up with lights and decorations as usual, heaters spread out appropriately to combat the cool air. Your eyes found Sarah and John B first, the former giving you a thumbs up with an encouraging smile before you and JJ broke the threshold that was hiding you away.

Your mom’s expression was unmissable. In fact, the glass in her hand hit the concrete beneath her, shattering into tiny shards as her mouth dropped. Your dad on the other hand turned very stoic. His jaw tightened, eyes sharp as he locked eyes with you. He didn’t blink at the crash of glass, instead watching your moves intensely as JJ took the lead down the stairs.

You settled in next to your friends in the crowd, unable to break the smile off your face as you held JJ’s hand tightly in yours. John B placed his arms around both of your necks as he pulled your group closer. “See, not so bad, huh?” He joked as he squeezed you two tightly. Sarah came back at the precise moment, a tray of champagne glasses in her hand that she no doubt swayed a worker for. You each grabbed your own glass, shaking your heads at her antics before John B spoke up again. “To Y/N and JJ!”

With a laugh you clinked your glass with the boy next to you, unable to keep the smile off your face. “To Y/N and JJ!”

masterlist

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delicrieux · 3 years

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☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 24: OH...HI

after months and too much longing, you finally meet corpse in person.

─── corpse husband x reader ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 3.8k

author’s note: we did it joe.

ultimate masterlist. ҉ myso masterlist ҉ previous. ҉ next.

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You woke up. That’s a lie, you didn’t sleep. Too much to plan, too much can go wrong and you’re...Not nervous, no, that’s not quite accurate. Excited. Yes, excited, so excited that two Redbulls and three coffees (so far!) make you jitter around the apartment like a butterfly that can’t find a flower bed to rest on.

Rae has almost had enough of your...random spurts of energy. So what if you ran a few laps, climbed a few tables, sang karaoke a bit too loud and yet another noise complaint had been issued? It arrived exactly an hour after your concert via your displeased landlord. Rae was, of course, the one to apologize because you were too busy trying on miniskirts. After that ordeal was taken care of, no sooner than Rae shut the front door with an exhausted sigh, you emerged from your room clad in your prettiest outfit. You present it to her with a bright smile and flourish.

She is not impressed.

“Will you quit it?” She questions, arms crossed over her chest. Your grin does not damper -- you’re used to such harsh treatment, having accepted her backhanded way of showing love long ago. Instead, you flick your wrists, showing off an ungodly amount of rings. You’re not certain of the exact number because you can’t count, “Y/n.” Her voice gains an edge, but you persist. Show off your shoes that have cute lil’ charms that jingle jangle not unlike the spurs on a hot cowgirl’s boots, “Y/n.” Her eyes narrow in displeasure, her stern tone making you falter in your dramatic stride down the imaginary catwalk, “Just stop.”

Okay! So maybe you’re not as used to her coldness as you thought you were. Your expression sours, and you quit the act, even if a part of you - one you barely fight off, goodness, you almost perish in that battle - wants to continue but even more annoying. As if you could somehow block her rationality with manic energy.

“What?” You ask, trying to keep the mood lighthearted despite her squared shoulders and tight frown, “I’m just having a bit of fun!” You say with a joyous little laugh, reaching for a glass of much needed water.

“No, you’re panicking.” Her words make the glass still, hoovering by your painted lips, but it’s short lived. You take a greedy gulp and it tastes fresh with a pinch of lipstick, “Look, I get it...” She shakes her head softly, “You’re meeting the guy you like for the first time, you jumped the gun straight to dating and now you’re...Anxious. It’s normal, you know.”

“But I’m not anxious.” You persist, and you really do mean it. You don’t like how she looks at you as if you’re the one that’s misunderstanding your own feelings. You set the glass down with a soft clink, heaving your own sigh, “I’m not, I’m really happy actually.” You explain softly, “It’s just...my way of dealing with it. I’m more... Worried about Corpse, to be honest.” You add, a tad quieter, “But, like, it’s all good!” You exclaim, strolling up to her and landing your hands on her shoulders, “I prepared.”

And it’s true! You had spent the night scouring the depths of the internet. Read every WikiHow article on how to deal with someone with extreme anxiety, how to not make things painfully awkward, and how to talk to boys (just in case. The last time you stumbled upon that particular article was way back in middle school when you had a crush on that one guy you saw in your school’s cafeteria every now and then. Naturally, that led you down the rabbit hole, and according to WikiHow’s How To Tell If A Boy Likes You guidebook, you found out that he was absolutely enamored with you because he glanced in your direction, like, two times. Safe to say that love story went nowhere. The point still stands).

So you forward all of this information to Rae, nestled in her bed whilst she lazily folds her clothes; clarify that you know that nothing much can happen, and that this whole situation is delicate, and that you must tread carefully because you don’t want to overwhelm him. She pauses her actions, glancing behind her to watch you staring idly at the ceiling, so peaceful, so thoughtful. And it’s not the eerie calmness you had displayed during your murderous spree in the last Among Us game, no, it’s just...quiet understanding.

“I’m actually impressed.” She says. You merely hum, counting the dust slowly descending in the cascading light, “You’re not as clueless as I thought.” Your lips quirk into a shy smile at the compliment- “Or as tactless.” - and turn downward just as quick.

“That implies that I’m always tactless.”

“You are.” She states and you sit up, a soft frown pinching your brows, “Not like, in a terrible way. You just...don’t think about your actions. Or the repercussions. You just know that you can get away with everything.”

“And I can!”

“That doesn’t actually mean you should do something just because you can. You know I’ll always support you. Literally everyone will always support you. But I’m not gonna coddle you. You’re just...a lot. Online and especially in person. But the fact that you’re actually taking this seriously and taking his feelings into consideration is...well, the bare minimum, but still, good job.”

...Much to think about. You don’t like thinking, it makes your head hurt. Though, that could just be the lack of sleep. You cross your legs and plop your head in your hand, tired eyes blinking owlishly, “Do you...think I should change what I’m wearing?”

Prompted by your question, she gives you a careful once over, “I mean, it’s signature you.”

“Signature me is a hoodie and some sweatpants.”

She smiles, “Then go change. Your outfit is a bit distracting for just...Hanging out indoors, no? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind either way, though.”

“I just...” You bite the inside of your cheek, mulling your words over. Truly, the last time you were so attentive was when you went Psycho Mode in Among Us, which, to be fair, wasn’t that long ago. Perhaps there wasn’t a chance to let your mind dull - it’s almost as sharp as your butterfly knife, “I figured that if, like,” You vaguely motion with your hands, “if I be, like, all over the place, and wearing something cute, he’d be, like, distracted? And less anxious? No...awkward silence?”

“First meetings are always awkward, it’s natural.” She chimes, “I mean, if you’re so nervous-”

“I’m not nervous!”

“-then just don’t overthink it. I know it’s easier said than done, but you’re you, and Corpse is Corpse, and he likes you for who you are, and even if it is a bit awkward, I’m sure it’ll, like, blow over in a second. It really doesn’t matter how you look, Y/n.” She grins, “Plus, it’s not like you’re greeting him in your underwear or something.”

You will not admit that that was your plan B, not when you just landed in her good graces. You nod, “...I’ll go change.”

And so you do. Pick out your cutest hoodie and some sweatpants. Put away your jingle jangle shoes with a broken heart, instead of them donning your fluffiest socks; slip off some rings because they keep falling off of your fingers. It’s almost like all of those transformation scenes in rom-coms that are still popular for some reason, except you’re hot before and after, so there’s really no transformation at all.

Now you wait. Just wait, all other activities are excluded from this. Rae comes back to find you sitting on the edge of your bed, back straight, hands neatly folded on your lap. She compares you to a Sim’s character and you allow her. After mercilessly mocking you and snapping a few pictures - for blackmail, you assume - she helpfully informs that she is leaving because she doesn’t want to get in the way, but your psychic abilities which you acquired just now tell you that she simply doesn’t want to witness this train wreck. Not that it’ll be a train wreck, it would be if you were nervous, but you aren’t.

You just aren’t. You fidget with the rings adoring your hand; toy with the hem of your hoodie; bounce your leg up and down. It’s just caffeine, okay?! Fuck this, Twitter time.

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[ADDING A MUSICAL INTERMISSION, LISTEN TO THIS IF YOU WANT (I WROTE THIS CHAPTER WITH IT IN MIND)]

The waiting commences, only now it somehow feels more intense. The sun is setting, and you really want to be one of those cute girls that fill their camera roll with pictures of the sunset and the roseate sky, but your hands are trembling and holding up your phone feels like too much of a hassle. You’d rather just sit there, alone in the apartment, in the pin-drop silence, extremely uncomfy and tense, as if waiting for the end of the world.

A notification sounds off and your life flashes before your eyes. Hastily, you check it, a sticky mixture of delight and something else, something unpleasant constricting, making your stomach churn. He’s here. Holy shit, it’s happening. You order your anime plushies to stop fucking panicking, they’re like, totally embarrassing you at the moment! You wonder if they have their own little group chat, but instead of Totally Spies it’s called Total Embarrassment. Yikes, okay, that was harsh. After a good scolding, and a heartfelt apology for getting so heated, you smooth down the non-existent wrinkles on your modest outfit, and quickly waddle over to the electronic apartment thingie something something... you unlock the main door, okay!? This is for some reason feeling very not cash money, so you break out in a little dance number.

The doorbell does not sing that shrill, unpleasant tune; rather, there’s a soft knock on the apartment’s door, and you pause your shuffling, your renegade, and perk up at the imposing future hidden behind a slab of wood. Your heart beats a melody all on it’s own, and it’s loud, uncoordinated, like a musician that’s still familiarizing themselves with their instrument. And there’s that knock again, as uncertain as you’re feeling, and your clammy fingers latch onto the lock and turn it and now there is no more hiding - such a possibility is no longer an option; no more sporadic dances or sitting in disheartening silence and letting your thoughts weight you down.

You’re not quite sure what you were thinking about before you saw him in the threshold, head tilted slightly, fluffy dark hair obscuring the bags under his eyes, hunched, one ringed hand clutching onto the strap of his duffel bag, the other frozen mid-air, ready to knock one more time lest you didn’t hear him the first two. No, truly, you can’t, for the life of you, remember what all the fuss was about.

“...Oh.” It’s a soft sound, so quiet, but not surprised, rather...relieved. Faint shimmers of a smile reach you, hidden behind a black face mask - the panini chic! You must stan a respectful king - but there’s something about the way he looks at you that makes you question it’s sincerity. He fails to return your gaze, rather choosing to stare somewhere over your shoulder. His eyes seem unfocused. Apprehensive. A wild thought occurs to you that he expected you to trick him somehow, and wild thoughts invade the land of your mind often, but never in such a way. You clutch the handle just a bit tighter.

His hand retreats to his side, up to his mask and you think he’s about to unhook it but he stills, and there’s panic there, as if he had been moving unconsciously, as if he hadn’t realized what he’s doing. He plays it off by idly scratching his cheek, muttering an equally quiet, “Hi.” to fill the silence.

Finally, your WikiHow knowledge can come in handy, along with your common sense, “Hey, pretty boy.” You mutter, pulling away from the door, “Make yourself at home!” You slide to the kitchen, your socks acting not unlike ice-skates cutting through the Arctic frost covered ground. You hope that with you occupied and not watching him as closely he’ll feel slightly more at ease.

You’d like to hug him. Kiss him, definitely. But if he’s so uncomfortable that he can’t bring himself to shed his mask in your presence, then there’s really nothing you can do.

You hear the door shut and lock behind you as you pull out two glasses from the cupboard, humming a song you can’t quite recall the name of. You ask him if he’d like something to drink - it was a short flight, yet a flight still, and planes always make you thirsty, and there you go talking his ear off. You end abruptly, but smoothly, like a true diplomat; if he notices, you have no way of knowing - he doesn’t provide even a hint. He’s hard to read, and literature was never your best subject. But you’re trying.

He sets his duffel bag down on a nearby chair, “I, uhhh,” His voice is raspy and low, another indication of a pathetic lack of sleep, “I...got you something, uhh, I dunno-dunno if I should...give it now, or?” He sends you a questioning glance, but it doesn’t linger. Your offer of drinks is momentarily forgotten, though you hardly mind.

You grin, “Sure! I love gifts, gimmie gimmie.” You make grabby hands, and he snorts, and it would’ve sounded endearing if he didn’t sound so fucking tired. He unzips the bag, and you pad your way to him, mindful of personal space (something you, in most social situations, chose to pretend does not exist). You note his hands quivering lightly, just like yours had in the agonizing wait, but he hides it well. You wish you could hold them. You’re afraid to try.

He pulls out a black hoodie and you recognize the custom art on it instantly - it’s his merch. He presents it in awkward flourish, murmuring a “Tadaaaa” under his breath; your heart skips a pleasant beat, and you have to bite down on your lower lip lest you smile appears too big. The fabric is soft under your fingers, and you accept his gift with a dramatic bow, and he turns his head away with another little laugh. You’re chipping away at the ice around him; it’s a slow process, but it’s worth the effort.

Truly, your own hoodie is shabby in comparison - icky, how could you have ever worn such a thing in the first place?! You’ll have to do extensive research in fashion magazines and Printerest so such a slip-up may never happen again. You discard it hastily and put his on instead; it smells like washing detergent with hints of cologne, one you instantly pin point belonging to him, “It’s, uhhh, it’s mine? I hope you, uhh, I didn’t have any spare ones, so-I hope you don’t...mind.”

He’s finally looking at you, but he’s still tense, still hesitant, and you shake your head softly, “No,” You admit, “I like it even more now.” You pull on the hood, toy with the strings and yank them quickly; your face is concealed, save for your nose, “Comfy.” Your commentary is unmatched, best of it’s kind - eloquent and effortless, much like yourself.

Another small laugh reaches your ears, and it sounds a bit livelier than the others had been. Success!

“Stop that.” He says gently, and you see moving shadows; his hands loosen the strings and your face is revealed to him once again. He’s close now, and he doesn’t move away; his hands come to rest on your shoulders, warm even through layers of fabric, “I came all this way to see you, don’t hide your face from me.”

Your eyes narrow playfully, your finger rapidly tapping away on his clothed cheek, “What’s all this then? Hm? Hm?” Instead of swatting your hand away, which you figured he’d do, he complies and finally tugs that fucking mask off. Your breath catches in the back of your throat and you halt your ministrations - truly, seeing him smiling on screen is nothing compared to him smiling in person. You can’t quite contain yourself any longer - your excitement might burst out in another dance number otherwise - as you throw your arms over his shoulders and pull him flush against you. He’s quick to return the embrace. Maybe it was all the encouragement he needed.

“Wow,” He mumbles, only slightly offended, “so I finally show my face to you, in person, and you just-...you just look away?”

“I’m hugging you, dumbass.”

“...Touche.”

Things fall into place after that, like a dozen puzzle pieces fitting together. He won’t let you go - he doesn’t want to. You put on some music, something easy and indie and that doesn’t require too much effort to listen to, as the two of you contemplate what to eat. Cooking by yourselves was dismissed due to the unstable relationship between yourself and cooking utensils. The stove and you had had a falling out recently, but this feud had started long ago, back in pre-school, with only short intervals of friendship. He listened to your extensive explanation absolutely enraptured and only moderately confused.

So you settled on ordering pizza from Domino’s. You have no trouble calling or receiving phone calls, because you have no trouble doing anything, and he admitted that he only really calls you because he gets too anxious to do more, so you’re tasked with ordering the food. You accept this mission with pride.

You stand tall, gazing out the window into the wild California domain: massive buildings and towering eucalyptus trees, bleeding skyline and the sun slowly getting swallowed up by the ocean. Corpse looms behind you, with his arms snaked around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder, looking at you through the corner of his eye. You wait patiently for the underpaid, overworked staff member to pick up, and once they do, you have the audacity to grin brightly and chirp, “Hi! I want pizza.”

Conversations flow smoothly, and you make hot chocolate - because you are hot and you crave chocolate - and he insists he wants one too, because you want one, and you don’t hesitate to overflow his cup with whipped cream and an ungodly amount of miniature marshmallows. A premature heart attack, just for him. Whoever said romance is dead has clearly never met you. When the doorbell chimes, you’re astounded that an hour flew by so quickly.

After the delicious meal, the movie night must commence. So what if you watched 10 Things I hate About You yesterday, you insist that you have already forgotten the plot. You lead him to your room and he tries not to stare, but can’t help himself. Pretty boy in a pretty girl’s room. His eyes linger on the massive posters of Chrollo on your walls, and you sense his displeasure rolling off of him in waves.

“What?” You huff, fluffing the pillows, “You don’t like my husband?”

He jabs his finger into his chest, into the spot of his heart, “I’m your husband.”

“Side hoe, then-”

“-No.”

You didn’t lie when you said you love to cuddle, or that you’re clingy. It’s a good thing he’s just as clingy as you are, because when he lays down and you latch onto his side. He doesn’t complain, rather wraps his arm around pulls you close. His thumb draws lazy circles on your side; with your head resting on his chest, you feel each rhythmical rise and drop.

The opening credits play on the projector, the room dark enough for your pile of plushies to look like a whole fucking human just standing in the corner. A ghost! Sucks for it, you’re not scared. You feel safe. Protected. So comfortable in Corpse’s hold that you’re honestly wondering how did you manage to be so long without him. To think all of this started when Sykkuno followed you on Twitter. What a lucky accident.

“Can I ask you something?” Your voice cuts through the bopping 90s soundtrack and Julia Stiles’ voice. He hums. You take it as a yes. Tilting your head upwards, you find his eyes again, a thorn of displeasure picking you as you note that that apprehension you had seen previously is still very much there, “...You really wouldn’t date me if I was a worm?”

His chest rumbles with a laugh and his lips split into a grin, “I would.” He presses your side for emphasis, “I really would.” He repeats, reassuringly. You, however, are not convinced.

“But I’d be a worm.”

“I know. We’d... roll around in the dirt together, or something.”

“But you’d be human.”

He frowns softly, “Why couldn’t I be a worm, too?”

“Those are the rules.”

“What kind of shitty fucking rules are those?”

“I dunno, it’s like the Thanos snap or something. I just turn into a worm. I’m the only one.”

“That’s fine.” He smiles, “I’d take you out on a fishing date or something.”

Shocked, offended, and heartbroken, you hit his chest and pointedly turn away with a pout, which he finds very funny for some reason, but you fail to see the humor anywhere except the movie. Despite the fact that he’d sacrifice you for a fish, you smile shyly and close your eyes. He did say you would take a nap together, and if he really thought you’d stay awake for movie night, well, then he’s just an idiot. You had decided you would fall asleep as soon as he was next to you. It’s a miracle you managed to stay awake for so long.

“...Sleeping already?” You don’t appreciate his teasing tone.

“’m not sleeping...” You murmur, “’m resting my eyes.”

“Sure.”

You’re not quite certain (of anything, really) how much time drifts by, but you’re nearly lost in unconsciousness, in the warm, nice feeling that comes along with him like a cloud. Perhaps he thinks you’re asleep, he has to, else he wouldn’t say anything at all, “You’re stuck with me now, you know.” It’s such a soft admission, riddled with the same notes of anxiety that always prevail in his speech; with the same hopeful sincerity he had been gazing at you the whole evening.

Moving your lips is such a hassle, but you manage, “’m...stuck...” You mumble, “’m...stuck...what are you doing step-”

“No!” He laughs, and your lips quirk into a lazy smile, “No, no, no. Just no. Do you talk in your sleep?” You fake snore at that, loudly, “You’re like a little dragon.”

“...Fuck you.”

“Fine, a kitten, then.” That’s better. You feel something chapped, but soft, press onto your forehead, “Goodnight, Y/n.”

God, you’re so fucking happy. Does he know how happy you are? How happy he makes you? But you’re too tired for screaming and flailing around, too tired to even crack an eye open. You want him to know all the same, “...like you.” You whisper, but you don’t know if he hears you over the movie, “...I like you.”

His reply is instant, breathless, “I like you too.”

Good, you want to say, and maybe you do - can’t tell anymore. Sleep takes you too quickly.

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tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury--moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband fanfic #corpse x y/n #corpse social media au #corpse husband social media au #social media au #myso #make you say oh #reader #xreader #imagine #imagines #fluff #wtf i have never been this soft no one hmu

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brockadoodles · 3 years

Text

Let me tell you that I love you (4 +1) - b. boeser

AN: Burn this gif onto my grave honestly. BUT ANYWAYS. Uh decided to write during the Canucks game just in case they gave me pain. And they didn’t, and I finished something. A short sweet little 4+1 for you all. I haven’t written one of these in forever, so i really tried to keep each snippet short. Let me know what you think :)

Word Count: 3433

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol briefly

One

Brock Boeser was an irremediable fucking romantic. He was the guy who was always more than willing to cozy up on a rainy day with a tragic Nicholas Sparks-esque movie on in the background, never shy at admitting that something as achingly faux romantic as The Notebook could make him weep. He was the guy that all of the cliches were written about, the over sensitive Pisces who stitched his heart on the inside of his left sleeve, ready and eager to give it to someone. That someone, the one who he wanted to give his entire soul to over the last year had become you.

You were someone he had met by accident, a romantic comedy worthy moment where you both had bonded helplessly at some overly fancy bar where you both had been stood up on dates. He felt stiff in his suit jacket, and you were there in that beautiful navy piece that had him wondering how the stars and planets had aligned in such a way that he was lucky enough to be half enjoying a drink next to you. You had smiled at him, opening the gates for a shitty date turned into a memory he couldn’t wait to tell the story of in twenty five years. One chance meeting had become a date, and more dates after that until over the summer he was bringing you home to meet his parents, where he told you that he loved you for the first time.

Brock was nervous to take you home but it wasn’t because there was an underlying fear that his family wouldn’t see all of the things in you that he did. He was apprehensive because he knew the backstory of his own life was enough baggage to send someone away, and it had. He had gone through this before, bringing someone home who didn’t want to bear the burden of what life with Brock Boeser actually meant and that loss had shaped his perspective on relationships. Bringing you home was hard, because he wanted so desperately for this to work out, and if you couldn’t take on that baggage, he knew that it wouldn’t.

Brock felt like he had that nervousness in his chest and stomach for the whole first twenty four hours that you were there. You had flown in late, settling into bed and falling right to sleep next to him. You always found a way to sleep, whereas he was consciously restless late into the witching hour, anxious about the next day where you would be actually meeting his family for the first time.

He had spent so long waiting for the other shoe to drop, that when you got along seamlessly with his dad, he was still uncontrollably on edge. He was watching wordlessly as you sat out on the porch with Duke, a smile on your face as you listened to him, nodding and responding with Easton comfortably playing in your lap. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned, seeing his mom with a comforting expression on her face.

“She’s great, Brock. Stop waiting for the bad.” She murmured. Brock turned back to look outside, where you were just reaching a hand to his dad’s wrist and laughing. He felt like the air was exhaling from his lungs the longer he let his mom’s words marinate in his mind. Brock opened the slider door and stepped outside, slowly walking over and pressing a soft kiss to his dad’s cheek, who in return patted his hand reassuringly. He then moved to you, settling into the wicker chair next to you and letting you hand over his nephew who was now reaching for him. As you handed Easton over, it was like everything clicked into place for him. This was what he wanted one day with you, passing over your own child with the sun setting over the lake and family all around. That was the first time he realized that he had finally figured out what love meant, because the feeling struck him harshly. He loved you, and instead of overthinking the feeling, he told you.

“I love you.” He murmured, softly enough that only you could hear it. Your eyes widened and your mouth hung open as if he could see every thought that was stampeding through your mind. He recoiled a bit, diverting his eyes from yours and swallowing back the feelings he had just let escape without thinking about the consequences. You smiled awkwardly, grabbing his hand and lacing your fingers together. You brought his hand to your lips and pressed a soft kiss to it, your non verbal way of not reciprocating. It wasn’t until you were alone that you explained to him you just weren’t ready yet, a conversation that felt like a punch to his gut but that he bore with patience and understanding. He pressed a soft kiss to your temple after, reassuring you that he understood what you were saying. You didn’t not love him, you just weren’t there yet, something he could have the patience to wait for.

Two

The second time that Brock shared with you that he loved you was by accident. It was a classic case of drunk words revealing sober thoughts. Not that his love for you was a secret that he was trying to keep, but instead it was a closely locked away feeling that he was trying to wait to share again until you gave him the go ahead. The wait had been eating him up inside, a small sense of rejection had made a home out of his heart after telling you the first time didn’t go how he envisioned. He loved you, he was so beyond in love with you that he wished for nothing more than to be able to tell you that every second of every day. But you weren’t ready, and his sober self knew that, his wine drunk self, did not.

It was your birthday and Vancouver had blessed (or cursed, according to most of the people that lived there) you with a dusting of snow. It was nowhere near what Brock was used to from growing up in Minnesota. He was used to long winters where the lake would be a solid sheet of ice that he and his buddies could spend their days skating on, with sometimes over a foot of snow on the ground.

Vancouver snow was a different story. The small amount was enough to close businesses early, and cause the city to almost shut down until the snow was gone. The mere 5 inches was a lot to people in the pacific northwest, so he watched you with a fond expression as you dragged him down to the park that was near his condo, a pom pom beanie on your head and one of his jackets wrapped around you.

You both had knocked back almost two bottles of wine, and there was a hazy aura surrounding you as he watched you twirl around with your arms out, catching snowflakes in your hair. Brock grabbed your hand and pulled you into his chest, kissing your forehead and then your nose and cheeks that were cold from the snow.

“What are you doing?” You giggled, bringing your hand up to rest on his cheek as he looked at you. God, you were his entire fucking world, and once again he didn’t think before opening the box to that thought he had buried in his heart from the summer, the words slipping from his lips before any sense of sobriety could catch up to him.

“I love you.” He whispered, a soft smile tugging at his lips and his eyes searching yours, hoping for a different outcome than the first time just a few months prior. You stepped back from him, bracing your hands on his arms and shifting your gaze away, something that sobered him up completely.

“I’m not ready.” You mumbled, a sad expression behind your eyes that Brock wished wasn’t there. He tugged you closer into his chest, another soft kiss to your temple as he ran a hand along your back.

“Take as long as you need.” Brock reassured you, more than willing to live by that promise. You were worth any wait that he had to endure.

Three

Playoffs were Brock’s favorite part of his job. The rush of the do-or-die series was something that every player loved. He felt like playoffs were the time where his real skills came into view, where he stood on his own as a talented forward instead of in the shadows wondering where his place was. It wasn’t that Brock was insecure per say, he just always felt like he had something to prove, mainly to himself. The Canucks had battled through all of the rounds, knocking out their opponents, leading them here to the Western Conference Finals against Vegas. It was game seven, the last hurdle before playing for the cup, absolutely do-or-die for this season.

It was everything Brock had been striving towards. It wasn’t a Stanley Cup, but god in that moment it may as well have felt like one. A game seven game winning goal, sending the team to the finals. Every year he had spent plagued with injuries, wondering if he would ever get back to that spot he had been at his rookie year, wondering if he’d ever actually feel like he deserved to be a part of that core that were the faces scattered on the outside of Rogers Arena. He nearly couldn't breathe as the puck passed by Marc Andre Fleury, hitting the back of the net and sounding off the familiar goal horn. Elias and JT were quick to pile on top of him, nearly knocking him backwards into the boards as the rest of the team ran out onto the ice. This was everything he had hoped for, a chance to play for the Stanley Cup and he was in tears knowing it was his goal that sent him there.

After the game, all he wanted was to find you. He raced out of the locker room, past the press area where thankfully he still had twenty minutes before he needed to sit down for his interviews. He ran out into the tunnel, hair still slightly damp as he searched for you. It didn’t take him long to find you, you were standing near Holly. You turned to face him just as he rounded the corner into your line of view. He watched as you touched Holly’s arm, saying something to her that he wasn’t close enough to read on your lips. You nearly jogged up to him, jumping into his arms hard and sending him backwards as he braced for your impact.

The two of you stood there for a moment, ignoring the entire commotion around you as some of his other teammates were cheering and coming out. He didn’t care about any of it, he cared about you. You were the one who was there for the worst season of his career, and sharing this win with you was almost more special than the win itself. You grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him hard, peppering kisses after. Brock took this as his moment, another moment where he could share with you just how he felt.

“I love you, I love you, holy shit, I fucking love you.” He mumbled against your lips. You froze slightly in his arms, hesitating before you crashed your lips back into his, hopefully distracting him from the uneasy feeling in your chest.

“I am so proud of you, Brock.” You whispered. He just looked at you and smiled, ignoring the slight feeling of letdown he felt at your lack of reciprocation. You weren’t ready, and he was okay with that. Instead of dwelling he just kissed you one last time to your lips and then your temple, holding you close before he went to answer questions from people he didn’t care to answer to before you all were going to celebrate. The Canucks didn’t win the cup that year, and his first thought after watching the Flyers rush out and hoist the coveted trophy was that maybe the disappointment would fade once he got home to you.

Four

Brock Boeser was a fucking romantic, and there was nothing more romantic to him than a wedding. It didn’t matter how many he watched in movies, or attended as he got older and his friends and teammates started getting married. No matter who it was, there was something that calmed him about seeing two people so in love and committing to that for their lives. He always pictured his wedding, except it was only ever from his perspective. In his daydreams, he never saw someone walking down the aisle toward him, he only saw himself standing there with tears in his eyes and a smile on his face as he waited for whoever that person was to get to him. It wasn’t until he loved you that the perspective changed, and he saw himself looking at you walking toward him.

It was Troy and Emma’s wedding, a small gathering just outside of the city and Brock was in a good mood all day. He was humming softly as he drove the two of you there, a smile permanently settled on his lips as the soft sounds of Kodaline came through the speakers of the car. He had one hand secured with yours in your lap and occasionally he glanced over at you, wondering how in the hell he got so lucky to still have you.

The wedding was beautiful, Troy and Emma both cried softly as they went through their vows, cementing their relationship with that final first kiss as the small group of close friends and families sat in the gazebo in attendance. Brock held your hand the entire time, feeling his chest tighten when you reached up and kissed the back of it just as the vows were being shared.

He loved weddings, but going to one with you had him tumbling back toward that locked away feeling in his chest. The romantic atmosphere clouded his judgement and dared it to come out for another time to share it with you. Brock made a mental note to stop getting ahead of himself, to stop planning out an entire future with you when you weren’t ready to even say you loved him yet. He tried to push the anxiety away, the feeling that maybe he was the one holding you back, maybe he was too sensitive or putting too much pressure on you to say it back, even though he had only let it slip less than a handful of times. He swore that sometimes he felt it. Sometimes you would look at him just long enough, with your lips pursed and the words sitting right there as he waited, but then you would falter and shake your head a bit, playing the moment off with a smile. He counted so many of those times and they were casting doubt into his chest that maybe he was there planning an entire future with someone who would never realistically be ready, no matter how hard he wanted you to be.

You could tell that he was in his head, something about the way he was carrying himself through the day had you worried. You watched as his eyes wandered around the reception hall. He was watching everyone carefully and you knew him so well by now that it felt like you were almost inside his head with him. Only instead of letting you hear what was running through his mind, there was a locked door keeping you out. Brock shifted back to face you, grabbing your hand once more and helping you up.

“Dance with me?” He asked. Brock pulled you into his chest, wrapping an arm around your waist as he swayed slowly with you, not paying attention to much around him other than you. He was feeling grateful for a lot of things, grateful that he was able to share such a special day with some of his closest friends, grateful that now the picture of this with you was so clear in his mind, and grateful that you were there with him, dancing slowly around the room. Brock closed his eyes for a moment as you leaned your head into his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as he moved you around. He pictured all of it, the flower crown you’d probably wear, the smile on your face, and the tears in his own eyes that he would have watching as you came toward him. He pictured every last detail, a vivid dream that he was set on becoming a reality now.

“I love you.” He hummed, letting his eyes open slowly as you lifted your head. You didn’t even have to say you weren’t ready this time, the slight shift of your eyes had unfortunately become something that Brock was learning all too well. He did what he always did though, he pressed a soft kiss to your temple and tucked the box of love back inside, sighing softly to himself and wishing that one day you’d take it.

Plus One

Brock loved you in all the ways that he ever thought that he could love someone, down to each subtlety of your demeanor and personality. He loved the way you laughed at his bad jokes, the way that you were patient with his dad, and the way you cared so much about the health of the world. But he also loved the bad things, the little annoyances that came with navigating a relationship that was long distance part time, the way you’d sometimes leave a mess at his place, hitting a nerve after a tough loss, he loved all of those things because that’s what made you human and your relationship normal.

This morning wasn’t anything special, there was no event the previous night that had kept you out late. There was no celebration of any kind. You had come over for dinner and stayed, falling asleep tucked under his arm with Coolie and Milo snuggled at your feet. This no doubt was Brock’s favorite way to wake up, and he’d do it for a lifetime as soon as you’d let him.

Brock always woke up before you, he was often an early riser and whenever you were there he found himself settling in and watching you sleep for just a few moments before he would slowly roll away from you to get up and make coffee. This morning was no different. His fingers drummed along your hip as your eyes fluttered open and his chest filled with the same feeling he only ever imagined existed in an alternate reality. You smiled softly and tucked yourself closer into his chest, a soft and groggy good morning escaping from your lips. He didn’t have time to think about if you were on his page, he was already writing the rest of the book with you.

“I love you.” He said.

He supposed it was just another instance added to the shortlist in his mind of attempts at telling you he loved you. Brock was now zero for four, more than a strikeout on the scoreboard, but Brock was also patient, and didn’t mind a late bottom of the 9th inning comeback if it meant his love was finally reciprocated. He didn’t mind telling you he loved you, because he did, but a small part of his heart cracked each time you smiled and nodded in favor of saying those three words back that he’d do anything to hear. Each kiss to the temple after masking that crack in his chest that was widening, possibly too far to fill in with hope much longer.

Except this time, your smile wasn’t forced. There wasn’t a nervousness behind your eyes, there was something else. You leaned into him, kissing him softly while your hand tugged at the ends of his hair. Something felt different in this kiss, a calm wave settling into his chest instead of the usual feeling that Brock felt from the previous times he shared this with you. You pulled back, smiling at him brightly.

“I love you, too.” And those words that fell from your lips didn’t hold a flame to any of the hopeless romances he not so secretly liked to enjoy, he now had the real thing.

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