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thedreadvampy · 3 years

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On the other hand, and moving away from direct Mechanisms Discourse (which I prefer to not get over involved in tbh but also this ISN'T about that it's just jumping off it) - it absolutely is deeply classist to assume that somebody is illiterate or ignorant because of poverty/assumed poverty, and that's a huge problem. but also I think on a broader social level (at least in the UK) there is an idea in the left that it's classist to acknowledge the connection between poverty and illiteracy, while the truth is that illiteracy is a problem of poverty (poverty not in the sense of just Not Having Money but in the sense of system denial of adequate resources). Poverty doesn't = illiteracy but illiteracy is very much a problem of poverty - not a failure of a marginalised individual but a failure of the system marginalising them.

Adult illiteracy is a surprisingly large issue in eg both rural and urban Scotland, but it's not because poor people are stupid, ignorant or unwilling to learn - it's because schools are inadequate or inaccessible, classes are managed not taught, teachers are stretched thin and schools are underfunded so don't have resources to help struggling students, if you get to secondary school still unable to read and write you're completely locked out of the educational system unless you can access a school with the resources to teach you individually, and because of this, classism and a lack of support, poorer kids are more likely to switch off school as early as possible.

Social geography is also a big issue. In urban areas, schools in poorer areas get bad reputations, so they're underfunded, so they do worse, so they're funded less, etc, until they're a bare minimum of staff just trying to get through the day in collapsing buildings with no resources and five textbooks. Where better-funded schools can afford teaching assistants, 1:1 support for struggling students, decent food provision for kids, follow-up on children in need of support at home, more teachers for smaller classes, maybe counseling and psychological support, maybe Special Educational Needs classes for older kids to work on basic literacy and numeracy to catch up, worse-funded schools have one underpaid unsupported teacher trying to manage a class of 35 kids with wildly different needs. They don't have the resources to help support kids with issues that might affect their schooling, like parental abuse or neglect, trauma, a parent in prison, care responsibilities, hunger, homelessness, neurodiversities that affect their ability to learn in the prescribed way, learning disabilities like dyslexia, physical health issues including visual or auditory impairments...all things that when supported are highly surmountable but when unsupported often end up with children being perceived and treated as stupid, disruptive or evil. The problem then compounds itself because the kids are badly treated which makes them more disruptive and less able to learn, and more and more work is needed to help them which teachers continue to not have any capacity or resources for.

Rural poverty comes with its own schooling issues as well, in that poverty is generally correlated with remoteness. Poor rural communities are often hours away from population centres, so either you have tiny highly local schools serving a handful of families where a single teacher needs to invent lesson plans that somehow balance the needs of 11 year olds and 4 year olds of all abilities, or your kids need to somehow get into town every morning before you get to work, which may mean dropping them off at 6am, having to part pay for buses, taxis or ferries, sending them on their own, or leaving them with friends and family, and realistically the way that often shakes down is that they don't go. You teach them at home, and they may not even exist for the truancy office to know about.

Literacy is also connected to family culture. Both my parents were people with degrees from educated families, and my mum was a full time parent, and the result is that school didn't teach me to read - I was already a confident and enthusiastic reader. Even richer families may hire tutors for small children, pay for extracurricular learning, etc. The poorer a family is, the more likely neither parent is available to spend time reading with their kids, because they're working full time - at that economic level a single income household is almost entirely unviable so either both parents work or there's a single parent working extra hours or they're just exhausted from worrying about the bills and what's sold to them as a personal failure to look after their family.

One thing it's easy to forget is that while people in the UK still do drop out of school in their teens to work, a generation ago it was almost the norm for a lot of communities (especially the children of farmers, miners and factory workers) to have left school well before the end of compulsory education, both because of school being a hostile space and because of the need for an additional income. Now as well as then, a lot of kids drop out to work as unpaid carers, disproportionately in poorer families that can't afford private care or therapeutic support. Literacy aside, generations of leaving school with no qualifications doesn't tend to teach you that formal learning is as important as experience and vocational learning, and you don't expect to finish anyway so why put yourself through misery trying to do well? But it includes literacy. I grew up in a former mining area and a lot of people my dad's age and older were literate enough to read signs and football results, but took adult classes in middle age or later to get past the pointing finger and moving lips. and if you're parents don't or can't read, it's a lot harder for you to learn.

There's a lot of classism and shame tied up in the roots of illiteracy. Teachers and governments and schoolmates will often have vocally expressed low expectations of poorer students; a rich child who does poorly at school has problems, a poor child who does poorly at school is a problem child. They're often treated with hostility and aggression from infancy and any anger or disinterest in school is often treated not as a problem to be solved but as proof that you were right to deem them a write-off. Poorer or more neglected children (or children for whom English is a second language) will often be deemed "stupid" by their peers, and start at a disadvantage because of the issues around early childhood learning in families where parents are overstretched.

Kids learn not to admit that they don't know or understand something, because if you start school unable to read and write and do basic maths when a lot of kids your age are already confident, you get mocked and called stupid and lazy by your peers, and treated with frustration by your teachers. So kids learn to avoid people noticing that they need help. That means that school, which could help a lot, isn't somewhere you can go for help but a source of huge anxiety and pain - more so when you factor in the background radiation of classism that only grows as you get older around not having the right clothes, the right toys, the right experiences, my mum says your mum's a ragger, my mum says I shouldn't hang out with you because you're a bad lot - so again kids switch off very early and see education as something to survive not something helpful.

The same is very much true of adult literacy. A lot of adults are very shamed and embarrassed to admit that they struggle with reading and writing - a lot of parents particularly want to be able to teach their kids to read, but aren't confident readers themselves, and feel too stupid and embarrassed to admit out loud that they can't read well, let alone to seek out and endure adult literacy classes that are a constant reminder of their perceived failure and ignorance (and can also be excruciating. Books for adult literacy learning are not nearly widespread enough and a lot of intelligent experienced adults are subjected to reading Spot the Dog and similar books targeted at small children's interests). Adult literacy classes also cost time and also money, so a lot of people only have the space for them after retirement, if at all.

And increasingly, illiteracy (or lack of fluency in English) increases poverty and marginalisation, and thus the chances of inherited literacy problems. Reading information, filling out forms and accessing the internet in a meaningful way are all massively limited by illiteracy, and you need those skills to access welfare, to access medical care, to avoid exploitative loans, to deal with any service providers, etc. Most jobs above minimum wage and a lot below require a fairly high level of literacy, whether it's office work or reading an instructional memo on a building site or reading drink instructions in McDonalds. Illiteracy is a huge barrier between somebody and the rest of the world, especially in a modern world that just assumes universal literacy, and especially especially as more and more of life involves the internet, texting, WhatsApp, email, and so on - it's becoming harder and harder for people with limited literacy to be fully involved in society. And that means the only mobility is downwards, and that exacerbates all the problems that lead to adult illiteracy.

People who can't read after the age of 6 or so are treated as stupid. People who can't read fluently when they're adults are seen as stupid and almost subhuman. There's so much shame and personal judgement attached to difficulty reading, but the fact that illiteracy is almost exclusively linked to poverty and deprivation is pretty conclusive. Illiteracy isn't about the failure or stupidity of the individual, it's about the lack of support, care and respect afforded to poor people at all stages of their life. Being illiterate doesn't make you stupid - many people are highly intelligent, creative, capable, thoughtful, and illiterate. I know people who can immediately solve complex engineering problems on the fly but take ten minutes to write down a sentence of instruction. It isn't classist to say that illiteracy is caused by poverty - it's both classist and inaccurate to say that illiteracy says anything about the worth, intelligence or personhood of the poor, that it's a result of a desire to be ignorant, or that it's evidence that people are poor because they're stupid, incapable, ignorant or bad parents. The link between poverty and illiteracy is the problem of classism and bigotry, no more no less, and we deal with it by working against the ideas that both poverty and lack of education are a reflection of individual worth.

Illiteracy isn't a problem of intelligence, it's a problem of education, and that matters because education is not inherent. it's something that has to be provided and maintained by parents, by the state, by the community. you're not born educated. you are educated. except more than a quarter of the Scottish population isn't educated, because the system doesn't give a fuck about them and actively excludes them or accidentally leaves them behind.

#idl why i wrote this I'm just very angry about how we as a culture treat adult illiteracy in the uk #which is to say - we don't #we ignore it and think about it as a problem of the past or of other countries #and if we do encounter it we treat illiterate people as uniquely stupid and ignorant #as if it's a personal not systemic problem #26.7% of people in Scotland are either illiterate or have severe issues with literacy #16.4% in the uk as a whole #it's this invisible symptom of deprivation that nobody fucking talks about #less than half of people in prison have basic literacy and numeracy skills #and that's not because only stupid people end up in prison it's because illiteracy is a symptom of the poverty pipeline #and i don't think there's current data on this but I'd guess we're going to see an ongoing dip in literacy rates #correlated with austerity from 2010 on #because child poverty and child hunger in this country has consistently steeply climbed since then #and you don't. learn well. when you're hungry.#and also i anticipate a drop in literacy associated with Covid. it's two years where kids without existing literacy skills #parents who are home and consistent internet access have really been unable to engage with a lot of classes #and teachers have been even less able to offer meaningful personalised support #and two years is SO LONG in early years. being set back two years compared to other students can affect your education your whole life.

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palimpsessed · 3 years

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Writerly Ephemera

I was tagged by @amywaterwings @mostlymaudlin @tea-brigade @effing-numpties @captain-aralias @bloodiedpixie . This is so cool, so thanks for sharing yours! ❤️

Per Amy: We add little bits of ourselves to our writing, scattering memories and places and phrases and things into our stories. The game is to find five examples of this, of YOU, in your writing and show everyone.

I don’t really feel like I put much of my own experiences into my fic, probably because I don’t feel like I have a lot of experiences to pull from. (That’s not me being self-deprecating; that’s me never going anywhere or doing anything.) So, let’s see what we come up with!

Going to tag here. I feel like I’ve gotten to this late so I’m not sure who has been tagged. Anyway. No pressure, loves. Just saying hi. 🥰 @theflyingpeach @bazzybelle @otherworldsivelivedin @unseelieseelie @wetheformidables @caitybug @nightimedreamersworld @foolofabookwyrm @stillmadaboutpetra

1. I have put the most of myself into A Man of Letters. I have my degree in English Lit and when I was in college, I was at the height of my Jane Austen obsession. So I sort of built my degree around the development of the English novel. My senior thesis was on a book called Evelina by Frances Burney, who was one of Austen’s greatest literary influences. Evelina is an epistolary novel—told entirely in letters. I love the epistolary form, for the same reason I love dialogue and texting fics. It’s such a fun narrative technique and can reveal so much about individual characters. It’s actually a bit like the way Rainbow Rowell uses multi POV in her books. Anyway, my love of the epistle was on full display in this fic, which is ofc told in letters. —Do I share a passage? That’s like...the whole fic 😅 So, idk. Here’s Simon being a disaster as he meditates on letter writing:

Dear Penny,

As I start this letter, I already know I'm not going to post it. I know I won't be able to bring myself to do it, because of what I have to say to you. I do feel bad. It's not that I don't want to tell you. And you know I'm so much better at writing things down than saying them out loud. It's only that I feel like this would all sound better coming from me in person. I just don't think I'll be able to make you understand in a letter. I'm still trying to understand myself. And writing all of this down helps me with that. Even if I'm only pretending to write to you, it makes me feel better, to think of you on the other end. I promise I really will tell you everything as soon as we're together again.

2. Also for A Man of Letters, my fascination with Regency fashions, in particular the dandy, was a major factor. I did an art book about this, comparing how fashion has changed over time, especially in regard to gender. (I also did an art book based on Evelina, since I’m on the subject. I minored in book art. 😁) I always fancied the look of a Regency dandy, so that was my gift to Baz.

Whoever has been working their magic on Salisbury should in fact be the person to whom I offer my eternal devotion. Alas, I am left to flounder under the burden of lusting after a man who is incapable of dressing himself.

The utter and unmitigated shame.

Salisbury wore a forest green wool frock coat that set off the golden highlights in his brown locks. This was accented with a green and aubergine striped silk waistcoat that was trimmed in white piping and felt much too daring a pattern for the man. (I don't care if he was a soldier; it takes a hardier man than him by half to choose a stripe like that.) His charcoal trousers were enticingly snug, but not so much to prove lethal. His cravat and points left much to be desired, though that likely reflected poorly on his ability to keep himself in order, rather than the ability of his valet. (Good God, maybe the man doesn't even have a valet!)

3. When it came to my countdown fic, To the Manor Borne, I had Shep make a reference to Cluedo, because Pitch Manor would be perfect for a real life game. Behind that, is the fact that my family played a lot of Clue and I watched the movie a whole bunch growing up, to the point where my sister and I used to quote it to each other. This was a way to pay homage to that. He also talks about playing the game Murder in the Dark, which was one I played at Halloween as a kid. One of my cousins was dressed as a ghoul with glow in the dark face paint and we were in my grandma’s creepy upstairs. Perfect vibes.

I’ve seen the kitchen and the dining room and the library and the study and the parlor. Walking through this house is like playing Clue. (They call it Cluedo on this side of the pond, because they like to be difficult.) (That was a whole thing. Do not get me started.)

I keep thinking Colonel Mustard’s going to pop up out of nowhere and brain me with a lead pipe.

And:

What kind of games do you play with magickal friends who don't have magic? Twister? Not with the wings and tail. Cards? Baz and Penny would cheat. Or accuse everyone else of cheating if they didn't win. Murder in the dark? With these people, in this house, I knew it would turn literal fast, and also it was like ten in the morning. Hide and seek? Simon and I would hide and everyone else would ditch. Snowball fight? World War III.

4. I’ve referenced Mozart in my fics a couple of times because when I was first getting into classical music, I was listening to a lot of Mozart. My sister had a CD of some of his early symphonies, and my local classical station does “Mozart in the Mornings” which happened to fit in the exact time slot between two morning classes I had my first year in college. I’d go sit in my car with a cup of tea, and just vibe with Mozart as my soundtrack. I’ve name dropped him in both A Man of Letters and To the Manor Borne. Also, Mozart wrote 12 variations on the melody shared by Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, which is a lovely tie in. (I also had the gang sing/cast The Holly and the Ivy, which is one of my favorite Christmas carols, and by strange coincidence was playing on the radio at the same time I wrote that scene. 🥰)

"It's a songbook," I tell him, like he can't figure that out for himself. "Did you know that Mozart wrote twelve different versions of the same song?"

He's laughing. "Mozart did not write Twinkle, twinkle, little star, Simon."

"You know what I mean."

"He composed twelve variations for solo piano on the French folk melody Ah! Vous dirai-je, maman."

"Sure. Anyway, this is for the violin. For you to play."

He's still laughing, and I'm trying to figure out what's so funny, but then he kisses me again, on the lips this time, so I figure maybe I'm still doing okay.

Only one more to go! What will it be? 👀

5. Therapy! Eheheh...😅 Look, it’s no secret the gang needs it. And tbh, so do I. Haven’t actually managed to get myself to go yet, and I think that’s where a lot of my “send them to therapy” happy endings come from. I did it in Use Your Words and To the Manor Borne. I started Chamber by Chamber with SnowBaz already in therapy, and then structured the whole thing around therapy that they give to each other and to themselves. It didn’t really fit in A Man of Letters, but if it had, I absolutely would have done it. I’ve only shared from two fics so far, and since it could kind of spoil the ending to Use Your Words (tho saying this may be spoiler anyway...), here are two snippets from It’s a Kind of Magic, Part I of Chamber by Chamber.

I've been working on articulating my needs. We both have. Ordinarily, I'd be afraid of pushing him away by making demands when he's on the verge of a spiral, but my therapist insists that I can't go on treating Simon with kid gloves. If I never ask him for anything, he'll think he doesn't have anything to give.

And

When I told that to my therapist, she said that I needed to talk it out of me and she'd help me find ways to work through it all. She said I needed to talk it out with Baz, too, so that he'd know how to help me when things got bad again—that was something else she said, that things would get bad again, and that I'd need to be prepared for that. That I couldn't expect things to be easy, and just go away.

6. BONUS! I think the biggest way I include bits of myself is in the AUs I’ve chosen to write. I have three I’m planning that say a lot about me, so I’m going to talk a bit about them here. There is ofc my Scooby Doo AU, inspired in large part by the fact that I watched it all the time growing up and also, my sister continues to be obsessed with it. When we were young, my parents were doing a lot of work on their house and we’d take family trips to the hardware store. My sister and I hated it, so we’d wait in the car with my mom and she would entertain us with “Scooby Doo stories”. Other AUs I’m planning? Troop Beverly Hills—please tell me someone else out there loved this movie the way I did when I was 5. It was very influential to baby me and I remember wishing for nothing more than being able to dress like Shelley Long. So, I’m going to let Baz do it, because I think he deserves it. 🥰 Lastly, tho it will probably be the first I write, is my Cupid and Psyche AU, from when I was heavy into mythology and religion. Since these are all forthcoming projects, I don’t really have a snippet. Instead, here’s Baz comparing Simon to Eros, which is what started my brain on that particular AU.

I am lost. I barely know anything about Salisbury, but I can't help being drawn in. At one time, I could have comforted myself that I was only so smitten with him because he looks like he was sculpted by Praxiteles. That excuse grows weaker with every encounter. He's the furthest thing from a lifeless tribute to beauty in marble as one can be. There is something deep and dark and feral inside of him and I want to claw it out. I want to see it, to let it free. To taste his wildness and his pain.

#tag game #writerly ephemera

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marshmallowprotection · 3 years

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I replayed Seven’s route and saw through the secret ending episodes (haven’t done that since 2019) and man is it me or is Rika kinda apathetic towards Saeran in the secret endings. In Ray’s route and especially his AE, she’s so fixated and obsessed with him and Saeyoung in hopes of this “happy family” and to feel needed. She was obsessive and possessive saying how much she loves Saeran like a mom loves her son. But in the Secret Ending when Saeran had a mental breakdown over him not getting the revenge Rika promised him. She got irritated and basically asked her believers to brainwash Saeran again and treated him like he was disposable, like Saeyoung can just take his place in “paradise”.

Like what happened, do you think the time between Another Story and Original Story was enough for her to lose her humanity along the way and play prophet full time. Like how Saeran’s demeanor in both those timelines are different bc he had to withstand Mint Eye’s treatment long enough to fixate on revenge completely and get a tattoo that solidified his devotion to what he didn’t know was a false cause.

Do you think Rika’s apathetic attitude is why Ray was “disposed” of in OS (I would say as an alter he was just dormant, covering his eyes and ears in a sense yknow?). Ray didn’t really play any part in OS so I thought Rika was done “playing mom” (since in the AE she said she missed Ray bc Ray was someone who needed her.) and wanted 100% focus on her plan

Sorry for rambling too much, this started off as a simple question but then my brain went “wait 🤔 what if 🤨”

-Moomi✨

So, a lot of this comes down to how you feel about connecting the two stories. A lot of people do not connect Another Story and Deep/Casual. So there are people that will say that it's just two different realities where possible circumstance can happen. I personally connect the two and I write with that in mind. Let me just say that there is a two-year time period between the two points that you can play in. That is a long time for things to happen and play out.

It's only been 6 months since he was taken in Another Story when Ray is there. Not a lot of time has passed and he is fresh in paranoia and in the manipulation that has been expended upon him. He is loyal to a T and very emotionally distraught. He is very lost and clinging to the last shred of hope that he has. There's a part of him that is cut throat and willing to destroy if that's what he has to do, but there's another part of him that's crying out when that happens.

Because he doesn't want to do those things but he has no choice.

She is the only person that's left in his life that hasn't abandoned him and he truly believes everything that she's told him. He's constantly trying to get her praise and attention because he doesn't want to be left behind. Suit Saeran said to himself that all of their vulnerable points of holding onto hope are inside of Ray. There is a reason why without the MC that Ray wouldn't be able to survive for very long. It's because Ray would never be getting positive influence. He would be a hurt more and more the longer that he was forced to lash out.

It would eventually destroy him. It would be too painful for him to exist because he would have nothing and it would be pointless. He would run himself ragged to give his savior what she wanted and he wouldn't be able to keep up with what she wanted. It would overload him. That is why Suit Saeran what eventually emerge at some point during that time period that would be after Ray combusted.

Suit Saeran isn't exactly stable either. He is built on anger and animosity, but he has just as many emotions as Ray has even though he tries to deny them. It's just instead of balling up everything inside of him, he's taking it out on everyone else because that's what he's been told his strength. He would work himself just as hard as Ray had, but there would be a part in the side of him that was just as twisted.

I personally do not see Suit Saeran and Unknown as the same person so that's important to note here. I imagine that at some point during that period after he gained control, something really bad would happen and it would cause a fracture inside of him. Unknown would be born if that split and eventually take control of the body. He is a lot more twisted. He's let go of the part of him that has hope, and the only thing that he's holding onto is devastation and destruction.

Everything is everyone else's fault and they need to pay for it. His sole purpose is completing their Revenge. He has a one-track mind and there's no doubt about that. He doesn't know what he's even going to do once he gets his revenge. He hasn't even planned that far. You can see that in a lot of the Bad Endings on Seven's Route. He is very emotionally vulnerable and on a hairpin trigger that could be easily broken. In a way he's like Ray. He and Ray have a lot more in common than he and Suit Saeran do with that.

Unknown has fully committed himself to this system. Whereas, with Ray and Suit Saeran, the both of them are able to express to the MC in the game, but they have doubts and that they know that she's not right but they have no other choice. Yes, they are committed to it in a sense but that doesn't mean that they are completely and wholeheartedly consumed by the Cult. There is still a part of them that is seeking that individuality and fighting against the pain and what sounds wrong.

Unknown has given himself to this. He sees no other point and he sees no other purpose. He's been tortured and pushed around his entire life, and it's been blamed on V and Saeyoung. This is the only thing that he's able to focus on and it's the only thing that he knows. It's the only thing grounding him. Rika is right behind him and whispering these lies and manipulation into his ear every single day. She treats him the way that she treats all of them, like a dog chasing food on the end of a string. She says pretty words and has great ideas, but if you follow her, you're never going to get the treat at the end.

And with Unknown, you know that he's been gaslit and manipulated to a degree much more lengthy than what Ray and Saeran went through; he's been stuck in this place by himself with nobody to hold on to. That just didn't stop because he started listening to what she wanted. That continued on. So did her constant denial of giving him praise. He's constantly trying to do things for her and that will make her praise him, and she always avoids doing it. He's always Chasing the Sun but he's never going to be able to touch it.

With Rika, you know that she's trying to cope by saying that she's a better mother. She's so lost in everything that she's been through and all of this anger that she's holding onto, that she's masking everything that she's doing and living her lie to the fullest. It's her way or the highway. She wants to get her revenge and she wants to prove that she was always right. She wants to be able to look at the crumbled remains of RFA as they seemingly all join her side one by one, and leave V in the dust.

She wants him to be a million things all at once. Her expectations for him are beyond what anyone could ever be. She says if you do this or that, she'll praise you and you'll be the best. But in reality, you're never going to be good enough in her eyes. That is the reality that he has to face. It's one that he tries to deny because she's made him truly believe that she's the only person that he has left. Yet, she treats him so horribly and only gives him enough so that he doesn't have enough doubts to make a fight.

She is apathetic. It's been so long and he's been failing her consistently in the secret ending. He wasn't able to get the MC. He wasn't able to get the party guests or the plans. He wasn't able to make good on any of the promises that he said that he was going to do. She's angry at him and she does what she's always done, blame him for being too emotional and punish him with more cleansing ceremony is so he can become the person that she wants them to be.

But like I said, the problem with that is that he's never going to be what she wants him to be.

She gets impatient. She stops putting on a pretty and friendly face for him. It's because he's not getting her the results that she wants fast enough. It's because he's not living up to what she wants him to be. It's because she's not happy and no matter how much she tries to use him to get what she wants to be happy, she's never going to be happy.

She's in a completely different place at this point in her life than she was in Another Story. She's had a hell of a lot more time to ruminate and get angry about how she's not getting results. At some point, she gets bored and tired of not getting what she wants. She's got a throne and she's got all of this power, but it's not making her happy. V is never giving her the response that she wants whenever they interact, and this just keeps feeding back into it. Her unchecked trauma and inability to accept responsibility for her crimes all play into this. The shame and the guilt...

I really do think that she lost whatever shred of humanity that she had. If you want to say that she had any of it. She's really had more time to get herself into place with the Savior position. She starts to think that she did the right thing by what she did to Mother Choi. She starts to think that she was right about doing what she did to the boys. What she did to V.

All of the people around her are constantly likening her to a saint and telling her that everything that she's doing is perfect and correct. She becomes more and more desensitized to the violence that she is committing. She is personally involved with many of the cleansing ceremonies. She is constantly there with all of this violence and trickery.

These are things that affect your psyche.

At some point, everyone around her is just useful for her goals. She doesn't really care what happens to Saeran because she has no more patience for him. He's constantly questioning her and fighting her. He doesn't listen like Ray listened. He makes a point of pushing back and at some point she just decides that it would be easier to get rid of him if she has to do it. In a lot of the Bad Endings, he does not know what the trigger to the bomb does. She literally just tells him that it's going to do something that will hurt his brother so much.

And he believes everything that she says. In those endings, she gives him the trip to the bomb because she wants to clear up the loose end. If she gets rid of him, she can easily manipulate his brother to do what she wants and turn him against V. She can use that opening to get whatever she wants. Seven would never know. She would just change her tactics and manipulate the other brother. Because at this point in her life, all she cares about is getting back at V. She blames him for everything and wants to destroy him for it. Nothing else matters at that point. She has a one-track mind at that point.

And what's more disheartening is the fact that she thinks that she wants that, but there's something inside of her that doesn't want that. She's just as conflicted as the rest of them are. I think it should be very telling to anyone about what's going on in her head space just by telling you to look at how willing she is to throw him away in the secret ending. She was ready to just throw him into the basement to have him used and abused again. Even if his brother tries to defend him and offer himself up, she's still pretty much ready to throw Saeran away.

She screams at him because he doesn't listen. That's why she says that she should have took his brother instead. She's tired of him fighting her and not obeying her every order and being her little puppet. She stops caring about him as a son when she realizes that a son isn't going to be her cute little puppet.

#mod kait #mystic messenger #mysme #saeran choi #ask #mysticmessenger #anon #choi saeran #saeyoung choi #choi saeyoung #rika kim #character analysis

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hellomynameisbisexual · 3 years

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Most people know to anticipate some degree of change when they’re in a committed, long-term romantic relationship: a desire for more nights in with Netflix instead of drunken ragers on the dance floor; the inevitable shift of physical appearances; the unexpected transformation of a side gig into a career. But many people assume sexual orientation is fairly stable—that whether you’re gay or straight, you’re “born this way,” and that’s what you’ll be forever.

That definitely isn’t always the case. But even though coming out as queer or bisexual in a committed straight relationship isn’t unheard of, a change in sexual identity is not something that many people anticipate happening within a long-term partnership, nor is it widely discussed. Despite the advancements in broader social understanding of LGBTQ issues made in the past decade, therapists Jared Anderson and Tamala Poljak told VICE that many of their patients fear that being bi or queer when straight-partnered could doom their relationship. There’s also a pervasive idea that a person in a hetero relationship can’t be LGBTQ because they have chosen to commit, and are presumably attracted to, a member of the opposite sex. But bisexuality is a valid orientation, and while it may feel intimidating to embrace this discovery and stay hetero-partnered, it’s by no means impossible.

“I believe both gender and sexuality [are] fluid, meaning we change throughout a lifespan,” Poljak said, adding that recent cultural shifts have likely led to light bulb moments for some individuals who has been denying or simply not recognizing their queer feelings.

Sexuality doula Isabella Frappier, whose work includes helping clients own and define their sexual expression, said that a person doesn’t need to have acted on any same-sex-attracted feelings in order to label themselves as queer or bisexual, and that bisexuality can be explored while still honoring an extant relationship, especially since everyone has different definitions of what it means to explore.

Bisexuality is often dismissed as a phase, and the idea that bisexual people are "just confused" persists. This is especially true for men; while bisexuality among women is slightly more socially acceptable (albeit because it’s fetishized and often viewed as an "experiment"), men often have to contend with the belief that bisexuality, as Carrie once put it on Sex and the City, is “a pit stop on the way to gay town.”

These myths stem from our society’s historically rigid approach to sexual expression. Experts are adamant that a person's bisexuality does not invalidate the love they have for their opposite-sex partner. According to Poljak, an associate marriage and family therapist, the idea that a person needs to “pick a side” is a rooted in heteronormative expectations.

The question, “Am I queer or bi enough?” can also weigh heavily on people who think they might not be all the way straight, as though there is a certain amount of "proof" that could confirm their sexuality. As much as those questioning might like to think there’s a litmus test that will tell them whether or not they’re truly bi, that’s simply not the case.

“For queer folks, it just isn’t so cut and dry,” Poljak said. “The hope to ‘figure it out’ and/or find ‘an answer’ is a pretty rigid idea steeped in heteronormative expectations. It also puts a lot of pressure on a person to have to declare one thing and stick to it. If you know you are attracted to one or more genders, then it’s really that simple.”

A journey into one’s queerness doesn’t have to involve sex outside of the relationship, or even sex in general. Just noticing that you’re attracted to other genders can be the extent of this exploration. The act of coming out to yourself, or maybe saying, “I’m bi. I don’t know what that looks like yet, and that’s OK,” has the potential to be extremely affirming.

You might find comfort in connecting with other queer folks, especially since identifying as queer might otherwise make you feel vulnerable or isolated. Some people are validated by coming out to friends and family, or by getting involved with the queer community. Frappier encouraged people exploring their bi/queer identity to go to LGBTQ events, read books about sexuality or written by queer authors, support bisexual artists and musicians, or join queer groups. Online, Reddit’s r/bisexual subreddit is a funny and informative space for bi folks to ask questions or simply discuss their experiences, while the Fluid Arizona resource page and Autostraddle's events and meet-ups can help queer folks build an IRL community.

If you decide you want to connect more physically with your queer sexual desires, but aren’t sure where to begin, start small. “I’d first encourage a person in this situation to start by considering the multiple ways they can explore their queerness on their own,” Frappier said. “That can be through watching ethical same-sex porn, or writing your own erotica.”

Experts strongly encouraged discussing your queerness with your partner eventually, as the secrecy can ultimately strain the relationship. (It can also contribute to the harmful idea that your queerness is somehow scandalous, or something to be ashamed of.) If you’re worried that your partner will react poorly, or you aren’t ready to share your feelings with them yet, consider talking to a professional, a trusted friend or loved one, or a queer friend who may relate a bit to what you are going through. Poljak, who is trained as an LGBTQ-affirmative therapist, said it’s crucial for people questioning their sexuality to have a solid support system. Studies show that bisexual people are at a higher risk of depression, anxiety, and experiencing violence than their gay, lesbian, and heterosexual counterparts. While staying in the closet can be a necessary choice for a myriad of reasons, research shows that the stress of concealment contributes to disrupted relationships, feelings of shame and guilt, and symptoms of anxiety and depression.

If you feel ready to talk with your significant other, avoid starting the conversation when either of you are tired or distracted, in the middle of a fight, or in any situation where tensions are high. Instead, choose a time when you both feel relaxed and won’t be rushed, like over coffee on a Saturday morning.

You don’t have to have everything figured out before you talk to your partner. Frappier said that it’s perfectly fine to tell them you’re in a questioning, exploratory phase, and then communicate what you’d like that to look like. There’s no need to choose a label unless you’d like to.

“Explain to [your partner] how you’ve been feeling, what you’re desiring to explore, and how you imagine that could look within your relationship,” Frappier said. She advised that it’s wise to let your partner know that your sexual expression is not a reflection of the relationship, but more about exploring a new part of yourself.

“Once you’re finished speaking, it’s important to give them space to share, and to really listen to how they are feeling,” Frappier said. “They may take it in stride, or need a little time to process it.”

Don’t stress if the first conversation doesn’t go as well as you’d hoped; this will likely be the first of many discussions. Anderson, who specializes in trauma and relationships, said that if any of these conversations get heated or overly emotional, it’s a good idea to press pause and revisit the topic once both partners have had a chance to cool off.

Couples therapy can also be extremely beneficial. “Ideally, both the person coming out and the partner of that person would be in individual therapy with a therapist who is trained in LGBTQ-affirmative therapy,” Poljak said. “The same is true if [you're] deciding to open your marriage, explore polyamory or emotional monogamy, and/or redefine your marital contract. The therapist needs to have more than just general knowledge of alternative, queer lifestyles, and understand the multiple systems at play.”

Psychology Today is the most thorough national network for finding mental health professionals, and allows users to search using various classifications, including sexuality and type of therapy (the “compassion-based” and “culturally sensitive” filters are good options for LGTBQ folks). Some health insurance plans allow users to filter for therapists who specialize in LGBTQ issues when searching for in-network providers. For POC-specific options, the National Queer and and Trans Therapists of Color Network is a good resource. For those struggling to find an in-person therapist, Pride Counseling offers digital therapy sessions via phone, messaging, and video call.

After your initial conversations and once you've sought any additional support you might find helpful, you and your partner may want to formulate an action plan. If you want to include your partner in your sexual exploration (and they are comfortable with that), the plan might include attending queer events, watching queer porn together, role-playing, engaging in threesomes, and/or swinging. If you’d prefer to explore your sexuality without your partner, but with other people, you may need to discuss opening up your relationship.

“Some folks find it exciting or even sexy, and perhaps a discussion unfolds about opening up the marriage or exploring poly or engaging in new kinds of play and fantasy with their partners,” Poljak said. “Maybe it even inspires their partner to share with honesty some queerness of their own that is emerging. Ideally, there is space for people’s differences and otherness to be expressed without having to lose the relationship, or having to abandon or sacrifice yourself.”

This sort of exploration is not one-size-fits-all. Regardless of the route you take, Frappier stresses the importance of discussing boundaries and safety throughout. If the two of you are struggling to find some sort of consensus when it comes to boundaries, that doesn’t mean the discussion regarding exploration is over forever. It’s very common for couples to have multiple conversations surrounding this topic, especially if one partner is asking to renegotiate the marital contract in some way.

Just as it’s reasonable for a person to want to explore their burgeoning sexuality outside of the relationship, it’s also reasonable for the other partner to say, “I’m not cool with that.” In some instances, it might be in the interest of both individuals to go their separate ways… and that’s OK, too.

“A marriage is a partnership that lasts as long as it’s right,” writer Nadia Rawls said after coming out to, and, later, ending things with her now–ex-husband. Rawls said she tried to make it work with her husband for six months, but ultimately realized that separating was the best option. “It takes a hell of a partner to help their spouse grow into the person they really are,” Rawls wrote. “Even if that means losing them.”

Rawls’s story is just one of many—Frappier and Poljak said that many couples make it work, too. It’s hard to predict how your partner might react, or how you’ll feel or what you’ll want, once you start exploring your queerness or bisexuality. That uncertainty is part of what makes the process of coming out in a straight relationship so intimidating. But the reward of being honest—both with yourself and with your partner—is the gift of a more authentic life. Regardless of the outcome, that is worth pursuing.

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scope-dogg · 3 years

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Super Beast Machine God Dancouga: Final Thoughts

“It’s complicated” can be a big of a copout when you’re weighing up whether to recommend something or not. In the case of this show and its trio of follow-up OVAs, it genuinely is kind of complicated. There was a lot I already liked about Dancouga even before I started watching - several of its soundtracks have had pride of place in my music playlists for years now, while the robot itself has been one of my favourite super robot designs for just as long, that being mostly fuelled by the machine’s status as a long-time Super Robot Wars stalwart. The same series made me a fan of the head pilot Shinobu Fujiwara and his trademark warcry of “YATTE YARUZE.” That said, I already went in with my expectations tempered by other opinions I’ve seen the generally weren’t quite so favourable as my expectations might have been.

Well, now I’ve seen it. In many ways, I really did enjoy it - the music is even better in its proper context, it’s cool to see where all the moves that Dancouga busts out in SRW came from, and Shinobu and the rest of the cast are as entertaining as I might have imagined in the primary material. Above all else, it surprised me by throwing in some ideas that were pretty original by the standards of its time, and some that are unique even compared to the rest of the genre as a whole. I really did enjoy a good amount of genuine enjoyment from the experience.

That doesn’t mean, however, that I’m going to recommend it. In fact, I just straight up don’t.

You see, there’s a lot of bad to go with the good in the show’s original anime run, to the degree that calling it “a mixed bag” would be too disingenuous. A promising start with some pretty great animation and production values quickly gives way to a level of quality that ranges from mediocre to shockingly poor, not only by today’s standards but those of the time. I don’t know the behind-the-scenes story of the show’s production, but it’s blatantly obvious that they found themselves out of money hilariously quickly, and they end up limping along on a shoestring budget. Stock footage abuse, animation errors, and just cheap and shoddy-looking artwork in general pile up until the result is a production that looks genuinely amateurish at times.

It’s a shame, because it’s a disservice to a show that’s actually fairly interesting in a lot of ways. The premise of Earth being invaded by an alien empire isn’t new, but typically shows of this setup from this era of anime follow a predictable pattern - a squad of hot-blooded youngsters is promptly assembled, thrown into the show’s resident giant robot, and sent off to fight off the aliens for as many formulaic monster-of-the-week style episodes as necessary. Here things aren’t so simple - there is the requisite squad of plucky youngsters, but it takes time for the team to properly assemble and to master their machine - in fact, they don’t even combine into Dancouga until the show’s halfway in. That’s actually more interesting than it sounds, because it means that the individual machines that make up Dancouga get a lot more screentime than they otherwise would in a show like Combattler V, for instance, which is cool because each of the four different ones has a vehicle form, a bestial animal form, and a humanoid configuration.

It also allows for the setting to be more interesting - humanity’s war against the Muge Zorbados invaders is more interesting than conflicts of this nature tend to be in old super robot shows. Instead of sending one gimmicky monster or robot at a time, the invasion comes in force, and the enemy takes over much of the world while the heroes of the Cyber Beast Force are still building themselves up. The war ends up being more of an asymmetrical war of resistance involving all of mankind rather than hinging solely on duels between the protagonists and the monster of the week. The invaders themselves are more interesting than usual as well, as the egos of each of the invading generals clash with one another. By far the most interesting villain is Shapiro Keats, a fellow member of the academy that the leads Shinobu, Sara, Masato and Ryo attended, whose megalomania leads him to betray mankind and defect to the aliens in a bid to elevate his own power and prestige and fulfil his own delusions of godhood. A lot of the challenges that the CBF face in the early parts of the show come more from Shapiro’s treachery and clever planning rather than gimmicky alien technologies.

However, while it has interesting ideas, the show never seems to be able to pull them off to their full potential. Ironically it’s Dancouga’s long-awaited and heavily-hyped arrival that heralds the death of much of the interesting elements to the story. In addition to being the biggest casualty of the show’s animation budget, Dancouga’s not implemented in a very interesting way in the show’s original anime run - whereas before battles were a test of the protagonists’ skill and strategy, Dancouga’s overpowering nature trivialises much of the action. It doesn’t help that its repertoire is limited to punching, shooting lasers, and on special occasions shooting a really big laser. As a result, the show loses momentum as it enters its final stages, as Dancouga just bulldozes over Muge Zorbados’ armies. It’s also around this time that the writers lose touch with what makes Shapiro Keats an interesting villain. He was compelling because of his sheer lack of redeeming features and total megalomania, yet more and more focus gets pushed onto his past romance with Sara, the show’s female co-protagonist. It seems like we’re meant to sympathise with him and her because of this lovers-to-anime arc, but Shapiro never ends up being anything less than a vile piece of shit with no redeeming features that leaves you boggling at what Sara could have ever possibly seen in him, and rolling your eyes whenever she’s shown to be struggling with having to fight him. Ultimately, the plot culminates in what must have been an awfully unsatisfying cliffhanger at the time.

However, that wasn’t the show’s real end, because it went on to spawn several OVAs. The first is Requiem for Victims, which portrays the final confrontation with Muge Zorbados. This is an immediate improvement in many ways, getting many things right that the show got badly wrong. First of all, the animation is far superior, as you might expect from an OVA - the difference is beyond night and day. Furthermore, it gives Dancouga some more interesting weapons and attacks to work with, and explores more of what makes it special as a machine beyond just being big and powerful. In spite of this, it also features the most fraught and exciting fights that it ever takes part in. Overall, it’s a massive improvement.

The peak, however, is probably the next OVA in line, God Bless Dancouga - taking place some time after Requiem, it’s got the best production values of anything with the Dancouga named attached. The story isn’t anything to write home about if I’m being honest, but it’s not bad either - if all you want is to see the characters interact with one another, then it ticks all the boxes. The animation is absolutely superb the whole way through, and while Dancouga doesn’t actually have a great deal of screentime, it makes it count big time when it does - chances are if you saw it use a cool attack in an SRW game, it got used first in this OVA.

I was really hoping that the OVAs could go three for three and pull off a great conclusion that’d make the time spent worth it, but that sadly wasn’t the case. Blazing Epilogue is a 4-parter that starts off promisingly plot-wise, but the production values are for the most part not up to the standards set by God Bless Dancouga or even Requiem for Victims - it’s not as bad as the original series, but it’s not especially good by the standards of 1990 when it was released. Worse is the fact that while the plot’s pretty good in episodes 1 through 3, it lets itself down for the finale, wrapping things up in an abrupt way that ended up making the whole exercise feel fairly pointless. It’s a total anticlimax and a weak way to wrap things up.

Of course, that wasn’t the absolute end, as the show got a modern sequel in the shape of Dancouga Nova in the 2000s, but I’m saving that for another day - it features all-new characters and is by all accounts very different from the original. As for the original Dancouga saga, like I said to open - it’s complicated. Personally, I think I enjoyed myself more than I didn’t - but I also don’t think that’d hold true for most people. I came to this already endeared to the robot, characters, and certain aspects of its presentation to the degree, and that helped me to power through a lot of the rockier moments in this so that I could see them in their original incarnation. For other people who aren’t super robot addicts like me, I just think the lows are too low and the highs aren’t high or numerous enough to warrant it being worth most people’s time.

#dancouga #mecha #respect the robot

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soldefied · 3 years

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note from mun: i plan to get out individual posts at some point, but who knows how long those are gonna take me. in the mean time, i give a you master post with all the important details on my babies. so, be low the cut will be the details you will need. (last updated 2021-04-18)

alexander lawson - he’s earned his fortune playing the stock market. he invests in small businesses that he can feel the person’s passion for. currently he is invested in buzz house, dante’s tattoo/coffe shop. (he has two tattoos. one he got in his younger years and the other shortly after buzz house opened). he also participates in ruby’s poker nights.

amelia whitmore - it wasn’t something she thought for her life, but amelia is a cooperate lawyer for her family’s company (which is competing with her fiancé’s company - oops). their families kind of pushed them together and now jaxon and her are engaged and in huntsville (temporarily?)

andrew parker - he dreamed of being a professional rugby player for as long as he could remember. that was until his acl injury that took him out of the game. he switched his major to journalism and is now a sports report for the local news channel. he’s a bit of a lone wolf but once you get to know him he’s a big softy.

anniston albeni

cadance penton - despite it being in her head, cade things she’s the town shame. she was left at the alter twice and has dealt with it as best as she could. her first fiancé still lives in huntsville - bennett - and the second moved to toronto after their split. she has a twin sister who gives her inspiration for her books (that she writes under a pen name so no one knows she’s the true author).

carson parker

cesar ortega

chloe browning

daphne goldstein

declan woulfe - for lack of a better term, he’s a single father who was able to finish his surgical residency with the help of his parents and his daughter’s uncle. caro - his ex - ran out on them and he doesn’t know why. he’s still angry about it but he focused on what was important - leia. he hasn’t dated seriously since caro but he’s gone on dates (both men and women)

jeremy chang

liam lexington

marianne santos-liney - mari is zane’s half sister but she would look up to him even if he didn’t practically raise her. growing up she was really into gymnastics. she wanted to be on the olympic team and was close to achieving that goal. that was until they were in a car accident that left her paralyzed from the waist down. she’s now an owner of a small boutique that sells handmade beauty and skincare products.

mingmei hsu - mei has only been in huntsville for a short time. formally a cast member of the real housewives of toronto, may moved to hunsville after her husband was charged and jailed for embezzlement. she has a five year old boy, spencer, and chose the small town because she has a cousin in town.

natalia lawson - natalia came to huntsville a little more than 6 months ago to live with her grandfather - alexander. except he isn’t her grandfather and her name isn’t natalia lawson. previously known as angelica natalia lewis, talia was placed under witness protection after testifying against her family’s criminal activity. she is constantly looking over her shoulder, worried an uncle or cousin will find her.

peyton del rosario

phelan macmurrough

raymund ando - raymund had two loving parents until he was four when he and his family were in car accident. while he walked away with a couple scratches, his father didn’t make it to the hospital. his mother on the other hand made it to the hospital and after a couple surgeries, was in a coma. his uncle made the difficult decision to pull the plug after a couple weeks and adopted raymund. he’s been in hunstville since then and is working his way to a degree in engineering.

ryan iglesias - ry didn’t think she would amount to much growing up. the youngest of four children, she was always passed over, especially when all older siblings succeeded. she has a degree in marketing and uses that to help companies with their social media presence, getting them set up and building a following. she also helps with consulting companies that already have a social media presence but need help.

steven richards - always big on sketching and art, steven started out doing a lot of graffiti in their high school years. they were arrested a couple times, all when they were still a minor. it wasn’t until they were 25 that they put their talent to good use and trained to become a tattoo artist.

verónica valerio - they are literally two sides of a coin that couldn’t be any more opposite. in their 9-5, verónica is a personal assistant who takes pride in managing their boss’ life so that everything goes off without a hitch. but when the office closes for the day and on the weekends, verónica is in a band they started when they were still in high school - chasing sundays. they play the bar scene a much as possible and their band members are probably their best friends.

#sero.intro #hospital tw #injury tw #crime tw #death tw #abandonment tw

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nomimits7 · 4 years

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Untouched

Title: Untouched

Pairing: OT7 X reader

Genre: college au thingy

Warnings: fluff? There’s some sexual tension, but only if you look really hard? cliff-hanger ending? I believe that’s it

Summary: You’ve had this feeling for at least a week now. The feeling that someone is watching you. There’s no mistaking it for a coincidence, it happens way too often for it to even be classified as such. You have this feeling, this cold, intense feeling of eyes set on your form, yet you chose to ignore it. You chose to shake it off as an illusion, a figment of your wild imagination. You chose to rather dwell on the emotional rollercoaster you’ve been stuck on for the past month. That same rollercoaster that would be your downfall…

A/N: Surprise!! So, as no one knows… It’s my birthday today ((4th of Feb)) and I actually reached over 200 followers!! So, I decided to write a very badfic as a celebration! Do enjoy!!!

•Δ•

The University of Imon is simply put, massive. It has been your home away from home for the past two years. Your decision to study abroad was something your parents didn’t quite approve of. Being the baby in the family, they wanted to keep you close to home. In other words, they did everything in their power to keep the last bird from fleeing the nest. Keywords being ‘did’ and ‘fleeing’.

You loved your parents and you would have loved to be with them as much as possible, but sometimes they could become a bit much. Clingy, to put it nicely. Your personal life is their daily news update and if you refused to offer some information, they assumed the worst. You got creative in blindsiding them to an extent, but even the best criminal minds have some trouble now and then.

It had been quite hard to explain how you had finally convinced them to let you go. In fact, you don’t even really know what you exactly did to convince them. They just randomly one day started to listen to your nagging. They became interested in your dreams of seeing the world before settling down and starting a family of your own. They suddenly made an effort to get you to Imon, your dream University that’s over twenty thousand kilometers away.

It wasn’t long until you figured out what they were up to. They wanted you gone to turn your bedroom into a ‘man cave’ of sorts. They had plans to let loose again and become their eighteen-year-old selves, and you were in the way, apparently. To be honest, that last bit kind of stung and it became a point that’s not up for discussion.

You haven’t seen them during this time of your life and its starting to get to you. A. k. a. the emotional rollercoaster. You started missing the small things. The way your mother would smile as your father would return from work, the way his tired eyes got new life as he saw the love of his life after hours of hard labour. The way she would get mad at you for stealing her hairbrush because you lost yours, again. The walks you would take with your friends. The river you use to go fishing with your father. See, small things… yet, you were still mad at them.

You don’t know if these feelings are just a pass time, or if there’s something more. You tried working through them, but it’s difficult if you have no one to do it with. It’s cliché you know but making friends as a foreigner is hard. So, you settled on acquaintances. You know their names, they know yours, end of the story.

It’s these uncontrollable, and unwelcome, emotions that made you become the quit student. The one that always wears her earphones when she walks to her next class. The one that studies too much, yet never achieves that distinction. The student no one sees or cares about. The daydreamer that loses herself in fantasies of her own thoughts.

Yes, this is you.

Y/N, the twenty-one-year-old foreign girl that always sits quietly in the back of the class with her nose in her books as the world goes by without sparing her a glance.

Okay, this sounds worse than it is. Yes, you are the quiet one, but you’re also an observer. You know most of the people you pass on campus. Okay maybe stating that you know them isn’t the right way of describing the situation. You know faces, and that how you characterize them to. You know them, yes but the chance of them knowing you are quite slim.

Like any other institution, there’s gangs or ‘houses’ everyone knows should be avoided. Again, being ‘the observer’ you are, you also know the reasons behind these unspoken rules. These ‘houses’ are what can be classified as ‘dangerous’, especially for girls. Too many times you had witnessed girls taking that walk of shame with an unnatural number of tears in their eyes. One of these houses is commonly known as ‘Between The Sheets’ or ‘Best aT Seduction’. The last one is a horrible name the boys on campus came up with, typical.

Yes, the name suggests that these individuals are worth your time, but it works in the opposite direction. Unfortunately, YOU have to be worth THEIR time. And if you think getting into bed with one of the members is difficult, try applying for a spot inside the circle. They almost never take in new people, and by people, you mean men, obviously.

Miraculously their youngest member joined only three years ago. He’s one year older than you, yet he looks like a fucking supermodel. They all do. You even suspect that’s one of the criteria boxes they won’t make exceptions for. Their common name might be ‘between the sheets’ but it’s their real name that kind of makes it obvious why they should be avoided at all costs.

‘Bewitching Tantalizing Salacity’

Keywords. Yes, keywords for what they actually do. These men were beyond dangerous, yet girls would do anything to get in their pants. This, however, did not apply to you. You simply wanted to avoid them at all costs, and you did until recently. Where you would usually never see them, they started appearing. The path you would usually take to your classes was a popular one. Something they would avoid at all costs. They liked keeping a low profile on campus.

But like everything in life, that also changed as of recently.

You first noticed Jungkook, the youngest, in the library. He never goes there. What was even weirder was that he was using one of the libraries computers instead of his laptop that was, surprisingly, right next to him. The second member you noticed was Seokjin, the oldest. He was in your Medical faculty, working. You knew his knowledge of medicine was incredibly wide, but you never knew he actually had a degree in it.

The other members gradually made their appearance. Namjoon was in your favorite coffee shop you visit daily, drinking coffee. Hoseok was on his way to the parking lot as you made your way to your car to leave. This was weird because they had specially allocated parking. They don’t use the student parking lots, all this in an effort to keep a low profile.

Yoongi was seen talking to one of your classmates. A girl, obviously. He was wearing a lab coat, as if he was joining your practical you had scheduled that day, surprisingly he did. And of course, you saw Jimin and Taehyung walking down the same path you took daily.

When they would make eye contact with you, they would only smile and nod, as if greeting you. This first freaked you out. Seeing all seven of them in one week was bad enough and now they were acknowledging you? You must be going insane. So, you bravely decided to ignore them as best as possible. You barely made eye contact, keeping your head down and brushing past them. It took you a full week to ‘fake’ not seeing them. But after that, it became quite easy.

That’s when the feeling started. The feeling of eyes on you, staring. When you finally decided to ‘see’ them again, they weren’t there. But the feeling remained. It was unusual for you for two reasons. One, you were the unnoticed student. And two, there was no one there watching you when you would turn around.

So, you ignored it. Big mistake.

•Δ•

Ignoring it did nothing to make the feeling go away. In fact, it made it worse.

You were packing up your supplies after doing research in the library when that feeling resurfaced. But this time it wasn’t fleeting like always. Looking around, you saw a few students by the windows, studying. One or two students in between the many shelves of books. And two students at the computers. No one was watching you.

Looking around a final time you failed to notice the brown eyes watching you over one of the computer monitors. Those same eyes never left you as you finished gathering your supplies and headed to the exit. A smirk slowly formed on his lips as he hit speed dial on his phone.

“She’s leaving,” He said as he quickly exited the game he was playing while he was watching you. You had this habit of moving in a routine. This only made it easier for them to follow you, and it sure made it easy in planning their interception of you. Getting up, he casually made his way to the door. He had no rush, his brothers were waiting for his call.

“Right, phase two. She just left her usual spot in the library.”

The rest of the boys fell into step as they all headed to their respected locations. Today was the day that they would take what they wanted. You.

•Δ•

As you exited the library you quickly made your way over to the cafeteria area. This was one of those old habits of yours. Getting your daily shot of caffeine with a hint of peppermint, you made your way to the parking lots. Earphones in place you slowly strolled through the cars. You always managed to park in the same area, this made it easier for you to locate your car among the sea of vehicles.

You had a tendency to get lost. A fact known to no one other than those who cared to watch you. A fact they were sure to put to use.

Turning left into the correct section where your car usually stood, you once again felt eyes on you. Glancing around, you quickly came to the conclusion that you are, in fact, alone. And that you might be going insane. Wait, hold that thought… you are, indeed going insane.

“What the fuck? Where’s my car??” you said gazing at the, now empty, parking space.

This was bad, you could swear you parked here this, morning, or was it somewhere else? You frantically looked around for any sign of your beloved car to no avail.

“You seem lost little one” a deep voice broke through your mental breakdown. Turning around you came face to face with none other than the president of BTS, Kim Namjoon. He did nothing to hide the way his eyes raked over you, nor did he attempt to keep the smirk from forming on his face. Something didn’t feel right about this so you slowly started backing away from him.

Your attempt in escaping the president was cut short by the firm chest that suddenly pressed into your back. With a yelp and the most adorable of jumps you swiftly turned around to come face to face with Taehyung. To say they found your actions cute was a complete understatement.

Before your brain could catch on to what was happening, Yoongi and Hoseok suddenly appeared from your right. The four boys forming a half-moon around you, far enough to allow you to breathe, close enough to stop you if you would feel brave enough to run.

“w-what are you guys doing? I m-mean, what are y-you guys d-doing here?” you stammered out as you realized there’s no chance of escape now.

“Oh, we just got tired of playing the cat and mouse game with a mouse that just refused to catch the hints. So, we’re here to ‘UP’ our game” Yoongi said as his eyes raked over your body. An involuntary shiver made its way down your spine as his words sunk in. Cat and mouse… he was talking about you. You were the mouse. Meaning, you. were. screwed.

“w-what? A g-game?” the intimidation was getting to you. Your breath grew shallow and your heart rate skyrocketed. This whole situation was getting too much for you and you needed to get away from them, right now. Screw the option of being cautious.

“Yes kitten, a game where you- Y/N!” Hoseok’s voice grew faint as you bolted towards the opposite side of the parking lot. You had no idea what your plan was exactly, or how you were planning on outrunning them. All you knew was what your gut told you, and that was to run.

Their footsteps grew faint as you sprinted through the cars. Good thing you were a top athlete at your old school, some habits die hard which leads to you keeping your fitness up. You knew you were fast and it definitely counted in your favor. You had no idea what they wanted with you. You haven’t even spoken to them. They don’t know you and you supposedly don’t know them. Did you do something that entertained them to the point that they actually tormented you?

You were a few cars away from the end of the parking lot when a pair of strong arms grabbed you. Unfortunately for you and your interceptor, you were to fast for a ‘smooth’ pick up. His sudden interference causes you to lose your footing. Sending both of you flying towards the ground. Making yourself as small as possible you successfully rolled 3 times before you found your feet again. Adrenaline was a wonderful thing as it pushed you to survive.

Fate clearly wasn’t on your side. Those same arms wrapped around you once more just as you were about to take off again.

“Where are you running to, love? You’re fast for a quiet student. What other surprises do you have for us?” a deep voice whispered into your ear as the same arms lifted you off the ground. Wiggling in his arms you swiftly turned your head, locking eyes with none other than Jungkook, the youngest member of BTS. Your eyes grew wide as your previous struggle increased.

Your attempt at escape was, once again, cut short. Jimin appeared out of nowhere holding a rag as his smile grew tenfold as he took in your struggling form.

“As much as I would love to hear you scream, Jin-Hyung is waiting with the van. Namjoon-hyung wasn’t very happy with that stunt you pulled, baby. So, here’s what going to happen. You’re going to be a good girl and inhale this so we can take care of you, okay?” Jimin said as he placed the rag over your mouth and nose.

You tried to hold your breath and fake the effect, but your lungs were burning from the short marathon you just ran. The world soon faded into nothingness as you took shallow breaths into the cursed rag.

“That’s it, baby. Sleep for us”

•Δ•

You always despised waking up. You absolutely loved your sleep. But, you suddenly graved waking up in your own bed than waking up on a couch, in an unfamiliar living room, in an unfamiliar house. Groaning you slowly opened your eyes fully. Seven pairs of eyes stared back at you as you sat up.

All seven of the boys kept their eyes on you. Intimidated by all the attention, you brought your knees up to your chest, curling in on yourself. You were scared. These boys were dangerous in more ways than one and you were not planning on becoming just ‘another one’ in their eyes. A sudden intake of breath made you glance in their direction.

Jimin was staring at you with hungry eyes. At first, you were confused. Sure, you were a pretty girl but not to the extent that you could take away someone’s breath. Especially not someone from this house. These boys had hard shells around them. They’ve seen it all, pretty legs, perky boobs, small waists, basically anything that the typical dumb girl in those cringy movies had.

After your little conversation you had internally, your eyes caught his line of sight. That’s when you realized why and how you managed to take his breath away. You were wearing a skirt. And not just any skirt, one of those frilly short ones with the cute flowers on them. And you pulling your knees to your chest gave him the perfect view of your more intimate part.

No, you did not wear anything underneath your skirt like you normally do, other than your very pink undies. You quickly shifted in your seat, plucking one of the cushions from your right and placing it over your exposed parts. Your cheeks were pink from embarrassment. How could you forget that little important detail? Stupid.

“Aw, look how shy she is Hyung. She’s red all over! Oh, please let me touch her, I won’t be to rough with her.” Taehyung cooed as he scooted to the edge of his seat.

At his words, your gaze shot to Namjoon. His face was unreadable as he took in your form slowly. His eyes burned as they finally made contact with yours. But it was his words that made you freeze.

“All in good time Tae. Now Y/N. Let me explain what’s going to happen here and why. We’ve been following you for a bit now. You see, you caught our attention by NOT being so, how do I put this? flirty. Your different and we want that for ourselves. We even did some digging and found a bunch of interesting documents about you. One of them being a doctor's report that stated you to be pure in almost every form. Then we started observing you. You’re so innocent and slowly we all somehow developed this need to have you.” He paused as his eyes made a quick rundown of your form again.

“We tried luring you in but you ignored it. We tried getting you to notice us but you blew it off as nothing. So, we had to take some extreme measures to get what we want. To claim what is ours” at his last words all seven of the boys stood.

Slowly they made their way over to you. You were quickly trapped as Taehyung and Jungkook captured your arms while the other boys pinned you down.

“We’re going to make you ours little dove, and trust me, we’re not planning on letting you go. You kept yourself pure for us and we can only repay such kindness with devotion.” Seokjin said as his hands traced your side.

“Devotion to never even look at someone else. No one will be as pure as you.” Hoseok said as his gaze found yours.

A small hand trailed up your legs as you felt soft kisses being placed just under your skirt. Something about the way these seven boys were acting clicked a switch inside you. Anger towards them and the audacity they had to see you as a mere object that they could just take pissed you off to the max.

They were so consumed with the idea of ‘taking what was theirs’ that they missed the change in your whole demeanor. Yes, they were seven and you were one. They outnumbered you yet, something made you do what you did. Screw statistics and all that bull crap. You were an in dependable woman that they managed to piss off rather than convince of their case.

With one quick movement of your legs, you managed to send Jimin and Yoongi staggering backward. Twisting your body Namjoon, Seokjin and Hoseok’s hands left you. That only left Taehyung and Jungkook who still had you in a tight hold. Pushing your torso up you extended your hands to grab their heads. In one swift movement, you collapsed back down, successfully dragging the two boys with you, knocking their heads together in the process.

You were free and very much angry. The groans that came from the two younger members were satisfying at least. The boys were surprised at your sudden switch. That made you feel even bolder as you stood up, facing them with your hands on your hips. You kind of resembled an angry mother that was about to scold her toddler from stealing a cookie.

“Who in the actual frisk frack gave you the right to claim me as your property? I’m sorry I wasn’t aware of the fact that I was for fucking sale!” your tone wasn’t dark nor was it light, it resembled something between anger and self-control. The anger was self-explanatory but the self-control that you held was simply to keep you from tearing someone’s eyes out.

To be honest, the boys didn’t know what they found more frightening. The fact that you just took a complete 180 or the fact that they liked this side of you even more.

“If you wanted someone to be your personal sex slave, you knocked on the wrong door. I am untouched and will remain that way until I decide I am ready to take it further with someone I love. So, either you guys man the fuck up and let me go or someone should go put on the kettle so that we can talk this through like adults” you said as you folded your arms over your chest.

And that was how you found yourself sipping a fresh cup of coffee 20 minutes later. You agreed to hear them out and maybe help them if you were up to it. You seriously doubted it though.

Like all cliché stories, they had a very good reason behind their action. They even went as far as to through in the good old ‘We want to redo our whole look and get out of the fuck-boy club’ You, however, did not believe a word they said. Who would? You’ve seen the proof, witnessed the many tears a lot of students have shed over these boys. You for one were not going to fall that easily for their charm, be it how tempting as it may.

“So, let me get this straight. You guys want me to be the neutral party to ‘regain your image’? No way, I’ve seen the many tears shed because of you and I won’t be just ‘another’ one.” Putting down your, now empty coffee cup, you made ready to leave only to be stopped by a hand that engulfed yours.

“Y/N wait. Please just listen to us. We don’t want to use you to gain anything. We just want you…” Taehyung said as he scooted closer to you. His eyes held a sincerity that was unfamiliar to you.

“Wait a dam minute. I haven’t even spoken to you before today, how do you know you want me? You don’t even know me, and I don’t know you. And don’t get me started on the whole kidnapping me from campus part of this experience. Whose idea was that even?” You were on full rant mode as you kept rambling your complaints. The only thing that ended your word vomit was the looks you received from the boys. Their eyes held sadness, maybe even a hint of resent.

“Why do you guys look sad?” you asked in a soft voice, almost too afraid of the answer.

“Y/N. We do know you. We’ve been watching you for quite some time. But we want to get to know you personally. Like we already said, you’re different from the other girls. Your quitter, more of a shadow than one to be in the spotlight. You didn’t show interest in our advances or any other houses advances, trust me when I tell you they all tried. We know you’ll be genuine with anything you do. You won’t just do something for a name or title, you’ll do it with heart and love because that’s just who you are. We’re not saying that anything should happen now, but would you at least consider the option of getting to know us? Even if it’s just as friends?” Namjoon spoke up. His voice soft and caring, as if he’s scared, he’ll hurt you with his words.

Yet, here you are, heart tight at his words. Nobody has ever told you something close to this. Maybe you should consider getting to know them. Your pretty sure your overall analysis of BTS won’t change, but hey there’s a first for everything.

“Look we know we might have handled things wrong, but please do think about this,” Hoseok said with pleading eyes.

Signing, you nodded your head. Great, all you had to do know was not to fall in love with these boys and try not to give in to the temptations they carry on their shoulders.

#untouched #nomimits7 #birthday drabble

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thesealfriend · 3 years

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*puts on Serious Game Dev Hat"

This one might get really rambly so it's going under a read more. Main topics are Games, Crunch and University.

(For folk seeing this who are curious but completely divorced from the games world, because even though it's in the news a lot lately it's hardly the universal topic people think it is, Crunch is the term for when creative studios, in this particular case games studios, overwork their employees by "incentivising" them to work longer hours or produce more content for little to no compensation, usually towards the end of a development cycle when deadlines are looming. I put "incentivising" in quotes because a lot of companies say they don't force workers to crunch, it's voluntary and workers are just so passionate! But actually, taking a stand and enforcing boundaries can often come with consequences within the workplace - workers who stand up to crunch might be first for layoffs or receive bad references from employers when trying to move jobs. It's hardly as "voluntary" as they make it seem.)

Anyway, rambling already! Let's begin...

So I studied game design at uni. This is no surprise to those who know me or note my "game dev hat" tag. I don't work in the industry right now for Reasons™ but I plan to one day.

My across my degree, grades were based on about 70% coursework, 30% exams/class tests. Funnily enough, the best way to learn games is to make games. So out of that coursework, I'd say the fair majority was, if not "make a game", then at least "produce a design document"/"prototype a game"/"create a level". There was a decent amount of essay-based coursework, writing about the psychology of games or theory of play etc, as well as reports on projects, but I'd say at least half of my grade came down to some aspect of actually creating games.

And that was a lot. It's understandable for the kind of course it is, but we often found ourselves working on 2-3 games or levels in 12 weeks. Which, when you vaguely run the numbers and compare the expected output to the time, was about doable. We weren't making AAA masterpieces of course, we were working in groups of 2-4 usually to make a vertical slice prototype (all functionality of a game across a small segment of the content) or a level or two to fit a brief. But!

We were expected to put in 40 hours a week for uni, as though it were a full time job. That explicit expectation means I can try and step around trying to calculate hours in the day and subtract for travel, leisure, eating etc. I'm using the numbers we were given. So that's 40hrs total, over 12 weeks, but that's including all the time we spend

Depending on the semester we had about 12-16hrs of teaching time, sometimes plus up to 4 hours unsupervised lab time to work on class exercises, so let's call that 16 hours overall in uni. That leaves 24 hours per week, to work on usually 3 classes at a time. That's 8 hours, per class, per week. Multiply that by 12 and you get 96 hours. 96 hours in which to complete each class, assuming we spend the exact amount of time we're meant to on uni work.

Now that sounds fine, right? That's two whole Global Game Jams* for each class, and that's not including time one would spend at a jam eating, sleeping or resting. People make pretty impressive stuff at jams, so why not be able to do that over the course of 2 jams comfortably?

(*for the uninitiated, GGJ is an annual event where game developers (including designers, programmers, artists and musicians etc) cram into a room for 48hrs straight, get given a surprise theme and make a game out of it. It's entirely for fun and I love them. Also some jam sites give you free pizza.)

Well, the thing is, I've led you all down a bit of a rabbit hole going purely by the numbers. I've not gotten into the nature of some of the work, and the overall system, which makes a difference. See, unis want to teach us good time management, and they want to actually steer us away from crunch. I've been verbally told many times that Crunch Is Bad And We Shouldn't Let It Happen. So they build in systems like interim reports, and enforced team meetings with minutes taken and then rating your team members' performance, appointments with tutors throughout the year for bigger stuff. These are all meant to ensure that you're working on projects at the "right rate" and keeping up with deadlines. And honestly? For some of the less game-specific coursework (psychology projects, essays on theory of design etc) this works fairly well. Universities have been structuring courses the same way for decades, why change it now?

But the thing is, game development is game development whether you're in the "controlled environment" of a university or the Real World™ of the games industry. Quite frankly put, shit happens. And this goes for all university courses, not just games. You get the usual tech issues ("my computer broke and I'm having to do this work at the library/elsewhere on campus", "my internet is down and I can't collaborate with my group" etc etc) as well as the personal life interruptions, both of which are highly tied to class and that's a whole other essay ramble. You also just get that one person who assigns themself task XYZ then never does it, which you could have managed to do yourself if you'd known they weren't going to do anything, but they assured you they would! These are the things we're warned about, told to give extra time to account for, and if it's really bad most unis have some kind of "oh shit something outside my control happened" form you can fill in for extra consideration, as well as individual tutors offering extensions.

But on top of that you also get the games-specific issues.

You get that one animation that, no matter how much skill and effort you put in, you're not happy with. You get that weird code that won't compile, and nobody on StackOverflow can recreate. You get the creative block. My god, the creative block. And then, you get the last minute changes to the brief or structure, or if you're unlucky enough to be working for a real world client, you get *weekly* changes to the brief or structure. You get the fact that the software you've been given doesn't fit what you've been told to do. You get the natural period of downtime because you've worked on your character model, and you're waiting for another group member to finish an animation and there's bugger all you can do in the lull. Most of these are just, things that happen, and we're expected to work around them because they happen in the real world too.

But in the Real World™, whenever "shit happens", that's when a studio, if it's a good one, can work around the issues. They hire the right people, and the right number of people for each role, knowing the kind of work that's expected, rather than just going "ok we have more programmers than artists this year so the teams will reflect that, good luck". They vet the software to ensure it meets the needs of the employees and their tasks. They have producers to keep on top of the brief, and liase with clients to make sure everyone knows what they're going to be doing ahead of time and throughout. And on top of all that, they remove the time pressure. They set goals, that "we'd like to have XYZ done in 6 weeks, and a beta released in the coming months" but they don't expect the workers to perform miracles.

But universities can't, or won't, do that. At the end of it all, the end of the semester is approaching and you've been putting your best work in all term, but there's 2 weeks to go and so much left to do if you want to submit something you're happy to be graded on. You could ask for an extension, but if everyone who was in that situation did so there just wouldn't be deadlines. You could just push ahead at normal pace, and submit what you have and hope for the best, but then you're risking failing the class and having it all be for nothing. And some people will do either of these things + they'll sacrifice a grade and do a resit in order to give themselves more time to finish another concurrent project, or they'll glean a few days' extension for a very specific issue, but for a lot of folk, you do what feels natural when deadlines loom and you're behind. You crunch.

And much like industry, uni society encourages crunch implicitly, even though it explicitly shames it. The tutor tells you, "last year's students managed this project in the same length of time!" but they don't mention how all of them probably crunched too. They blame your time management, not realising that if 75% of the class are having to work around this then the issue probably isn't with individuals' time management. The students talk among themselves about who got the least sleep over the last two weeks of term, and it's a badge of honour (again, not necessarily game dev-specific, but there's definitely an enhanced culture of it there) and who put in 8hr shifts after uni to crush the bugs.

And we're taught about passion. One of my tutors, who is the most Explicitly Anti-Crunch man I know, was also the first one who told me that "If you aren't working on other stuff in your personal time you can't expect to get a job easily". He didn't say it in a positive way, but he knew it was the case and didn't encourage us to fight it. And sure, if game dev is something you enjoy as a hobby that will stand you in good stead. But if every student or young dev is told they have to go "above and beyond" to succeed, then that shifts the bar for what "above and beyond" means. Exactly the same as companies "incentivising" 60 hour weeks, so that everyone works 60 hours to prove they're passionate, and then 80 hours is above and beyond.

And you know the worst part about all this? From a purely productive standpoint, it works. For every class I got a good grade in, I'd crunched. And sure, I'd have probably just about passed most of them if I hadn't, but crunch in my case (and other folk I've spoken to) isn't the difference between an A and a B in games courses, it's the difference between an A and a D. Because sure, I'd submit 80% of the work, but without that final 20% tying it together that 80% of the work might make up 40-50% of the grade requirements. It's a very all-or-nothing discipline, except you can't physically do "all" because if you satisfy all the grade requirements, you get 80-90% because "there's always something more you could add to make it better". Which is also a whole other rant.

Anyway, my point with all of this is that, despite how it seems, studying game design at uni sets prospective employees up for crunch. The magnitude is lower, but the attitude is there. They know that they've done it before, that if they can just pull through a couple of weeks doing double time, they'll get it out the way. And so far, that has worked for them, because deadlines rarely do move. But in industry, they work their two weeks double time only for the worst of the studios to say "actually we see you working hard but also we're not gonna make it, you've got another month". And then they have to pull that time for another month. And maybe again after that. As a student, that kind of extension happened to me once - my 3D coursework was meant to be due before the Christmas break, and with 2 weeks to go, the lecturer announced we had til the start of the exam period (mid-January). But because we had that extra time, he expected the quality to reflect it. We weren't getting extra time so we could do the same amount of work without crunching - we were getting it so we could do more work. Again, the exact same pattern we see in industry right now.

So what's the solution? Honestly, I don't have one. Reviewing workload for students in creative subjects is a sticking plaster, and removing time pressure from coursework would require an overhaul of the system that I can't see coming any time soon. Acknowledgement of the problem is the best we can do for now. If you or someone you know is in or studying for an industry prone to this kind of behaviour, talk about it. Push the idea that the institution is flawed, and that whatever kind of unhealthy habits people pick up while studying don't have to become their life.

Look after each other. Peace out!

#game dev hat #long post under cut #ramblings #mild rant #game dev #crunch #this got away from me once more

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raywritesthings · 4 years

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Once Upon a Star (City)

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Laurel Lance, Oliver Queen, Sara Lance, Nyssa al Ghul, Damien Darhk, Ted Grant, Quentin Lance, Malcolm Merlyn, Dinah Lance, Robert Queen, Raisa, Tommy Merlyn, Thea Queen, John Diggle, Dr. Fate, Zatara, Zatanna Zatara, John Constantine, Olivia Queen, Willima Clayton Pairings: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen, Nyssa al Ghul/Sara Lance Summary: King Robert and Lord Lance enter their eldest children into a betrothal arrangement, only for the celebration to be interrupted by Damien Darhk. Will Lady Laurel fall victim the curse upon her, or will true love prevail? *Can be read on AO3 or FFN, links in my bio*

Long ago, the kingdom of Star had a very special year. Queen Moira was expecting a child, an heir to the throne. With this event quickly approaching, King Robert had his mind on the future. When it came time to meeting with the various nobles who had pledged fealty to the kingdom, this mindset went with him, including in his talks with Lord Quentin Lance.

Lord Lance was a prickly sort whose loyalty and sense of right could not be bought with money or simple gifts. He commanded a measure of respect among the common folk who tended his land and who he protected in times of strife. Good relations with the nobleman meant peace within his kingdom, and Robert thought he saw the way.

“Lord Quentin, I wish you well and congratulate you and your wife on the birth of your daughter.”

“Thank you, your Grace,” Lord Quentin answered with a short bow of his head. “We’ve named her for her mother. And it’s my hope she’ll grow into a true lady of the kingdom.”

“I am certain of that. It’s why I am prepared to make you a conditional offer.”

Lord Quentin frowned. “Conditional how?”

“On the birth of the new heir to my throne,” King Robert told him. “Should the infant be a boy, as I’m hoping he will be, I wish to propose a betrothal between your daughter and my son.” He could see the shock on the nobleman’s face.

“You’re serious?”

“I am interested in focusing on my people, Lord Quentin, not on the lands of others. The future Queen should be one of our own, and I can think of few families finer. But we shall wait for the birth before making any final arrangements.”

Prince Oliver arrived to much merriment, and the two families planned a grand feast to celebrate the births and the future union of their houses into one. All the kingdom was invited, save one.

The day of the celebration, three of the kingdom’s most respected and sought-after Sidhe were in attendance to bless the future union and the infants individually. First were the gifts bestowed upon the Prince, starting with the one called Fate.

He rose half a foot in the air with both arms held out as he spoke. “To the young Prince, I give him strength of body and strength of heart, to endure the hardships of the crown. Where others falter, he will lead.” Thus spoken, he lowered back to the stone floor of the great hall.

“Show off.” Constantine was the second of these Sidhe to step forward, striking a match against the baby’s crib. “I give the Prince what some may call the gift of diplomacy. With his wit and his humor he will charm those who seek war and and soothe those with rancor against the crown. And with this gift, he will woo the fair lady to which he’ll find himself wed.” That said, he stepped back and lit a smoke.

Last if the three was Zatara, who held a hand over the crib as he said his own piece. “To the future king I give a warrior and a hunter’s skill. No weapon wielded by his hand shall be bested, and thus restraint shall be the true measure of his ability.”

With these gifts given to the Prince, the Sidhe turned their attentions to the Princess-to-be. Again, Fate took his turn first.

“To the child, I give the gift of beauty, within and without. Her face shall inspire the poets and her kindness shall inspire the people.”

Constantine breathed out a trail of smoke before speaking. “I give the little lady the gift of a strong voice. Raised in anger or song, all will hear her and all will listen, or quickly learn their lesson,” he added with a smirk.

Zatara stepped forth, but before he could speak a tremendous wind threw the doors open and blew out every torch in the hall. The King, Queen and Lady Lance all drew back in horror.

Damien Darhk, most feared of the Unseelie, stepped through the open doors to several gasps. “Your Majesties, Lords and Ladies. Forgive my tardiness. I only just learned of this happy celebration today.” He walked up the aisle of people that parted at his approach until he had nearly reached the dais upon which the two ceremonial cribs sat. “I’m sure the messenger with my invitation has a good explanation for it.”

Lord Lance stepped forward, a frown on his face. He had never appreciated Darhk’s encroachments upon the kingdom nor his veiled threats. “There wasn’t one sent.”

The Unseelie drew back, face transformed into a mockery of shock. “Not sent? But that means… you didn’t want my presence at your celebration. Such a shame. After all, I only wished to give the dear little girl a gift of my own.”

“You did?” Lady Lance asked hesitantly.

“Why yes. Do listen.” He raised a hand. “The future Highness will indeed be beautiful and kind, loved by her Prince and all that feel her kindness. But—” And here his voice turned from pleasant to cold and hard. “Before the Earth completes its turn past her thirtieth year, she will fall to an arrow, and die.”

“No!” Quentin lunged, but was held back by his terrified wife.

“Seize him, before he harms the Prince as well!” King Robert declared. His guards charged, but the laughing Darhk merely disappeared in a flash of light and smoke. When it cleared, all were left in confusion and dismay. A celebration that had quickly turned to a time of mourning.

“Do not despair just yet,” Fate told the families. “For Zatara has yet to give the final gift.”

“You mean, you can reverse what that monster’s done to her?” Quentin didn’t dare to hope as he looked upon the Sidhe.

Zatara bowed his head for a moment. “Not reverse entirely, but lessen. With my daughter’s help, our magic can divert the course of Darhk’s prophecy to some degree.” He beckoned a small dark-haired girl to stand with him, and the father took the lead. “Dear child, though others wish you harm, I give you this final protection. Should the arrow pierce your flesh, death it will not bring, but sleep.”

“Peaceful sleep eternal,” the young Zatanna repeated. At her father’s urging, she continued with a brighter gleam in her eyes, “Though many may try to wake you, only one way will they find: the kiss of true love, a power stronger than all the darkness of this world, will end the evil curse upon you and bring the happiness once promised to us all.”

A faint glow seemed to emanate around the Sidhe and the cribs, sealing the magic before dimming once more.

“Thank you, Zatara,” King Robert said. “But there is nothing else that can undo this wicked trick?”

“None, save hiding the child away, which is what I would do if Darhk set his eyes upon me,” Constantine remarked. Then he turned and walked away. The other Sidhe soon followed.

The Lances were both crestfallen at this announcement; they could not simply abandon their station to seek a hideaway nor could they expect to keep their daughter safe from the threat of arrows within the kingdom. Lord Lance, however, was loathe to trust the power of something so intangible as true love’s kiss, and so he resolved to have his daughter hidden away from everyone, even himself.

The task was entrusted to a retired knight who held the highest honors: Sir Ted the Wildcat. His wilder nature, already tempered with age, would soften even further in the presence of the sweet child he would raise as if his own. He even gave her a new name to better hide her from Darhk’s spies: Laurel. In the dark of night, he slipped away with the baby deep into the woods in a tiny cabin, as removed from the pomp and circumstance she might have been raised in as one could get.

Lord and Lady Lance produced a second daughter they named Sara. The nobles and the royals decided the betrothal agreement between their families would go on, this time without a special celebration to commemorate it. And though they raised the young prince and the young lady with this idea in mind, their children proved far more inclined to pursue their own fates…

---

Fourteen years later, Prince Oliver of Star rode through the woods. “Ollie, come on! Stay on the path.”

He looked back at Tommy, his closest friend from childhood, and laughed. “You stay on it if you want.” He urged his horse on and soon found himself hopelessly lost, which was probably what Tommy had been trying to warn him about. Oh well. He enjoyed being out in the woods where he wasn’t the King’s son, heir to the throne and all that. He could waste a day away out here if he wanted.

Not far away in a tiny wooden cabin, Laurel was preparing for a day out with a book to read and a basket for collecting berries, herbs and anything else that caught her fancy. “I’ll be back to make dinner, Ted.”

“Don’t go too far,” he cautioned her, as he always did.

Laurel smiled and shook her head. He was such a worrier. She stepped outside and shut the door behind her, humming under her breath. As she went further out, confident in her complete isolation from even Ted, her humming turned to song. First under her breath, then louder as her confidence grew. She liked her voice, but she’d grown shy of sharing it when she hardly had an audience.

Yet that was about to change.

Oliver looked up, pulling the reins to slow his horse to a trot, then a walk. Had he heard something?

Then it came again, off through the trees. The most beautiful voice he’d ever heard. Like a siren’s call, perhaps, it beckoned him. And so he went, riding quickly and jumping over brambles and fallen logs in his path.

He slowed once again to listen, then swung off his horse and walked the rest of the way through the trees that separated him from the owner of such a voice. When he at last lifted a branch aside to see into a small clearing, he was momentarily stunned. “Lord…”

A maiden with long, blonde hair and sparkling green eyes swayed her way this way and that. Her clothes were plain and she’d forgone stockings and even shoes for the moment as she seemed content to feel the grass beneath her feet as she moved to the music of her own making.

Heedless to any observer, Laurel continued her approximation of a dance, the little she had gleaned from her books of how one was meant to dance. If only she had a real partner instead of her daydreams to help show her how it was meant to be.

And then, quite suddenly, she did.

Oliver had tied the reins of his horse to the branch, stepping forward just as her back had turned to catch her hands and guide her in a spin. The surprise on her face mirrored what he felt at his own daring; he hadn’t been able to resist.

“Oh!”

Instantly, he released her and stepped back hands raised. “I’m sorry. You looked a little lonely there.”

Laurel backed up into a tree, eyes wide as she took the young man in who was standing before her. She’d never met a man in the woods before; she was usually so much more careful.

“I wasn’t lonely. In fact, I’m meant to be alone,” she argued. “Or at least, not with some stranger.” There was no need to make him think she was all by herself, after all, even if she feared she was very much out of Ted’s earshot.

Oliver shook his head. “We can’t really be strangers.” He didn’t want this encounter to end so soon.

Laurel stepped away from the tree she’d half-hidden behind, intrigued despite herself. “Can’t we?”

He thought quickly, then asked, “Haven’t you ever dreamed of meeting some handsome fellow?”

Laurel ducked her head and blushed. “Yes.”

Oliver spread his arms. “Well then, here I am.”

“You’re very confident about that,” Laurel teased. “I didn’t even say if he was blond.”

For a moment, he seemed stumped. But Oliver quickly rallied. “Some have described my hair as a very light brown. I’m adaptable.”

“Are you,” she replied, grinning so widely she thought her cheeks might hurt. She wasn’t meant to find strangers so charming, but there was just something about him, as if they really had met in some dream of another life. “Who are you, really?”

He grinned. No one ever asked him that question. He found he liked it. “You can call me Ollie.”

She thought he might be a hunter of some sort. She’d heard them pass by her home a number of times but never seen one so close. And his clothes were of a much finer weave than any she might have expected a common hunter to wear. But whether he was or wasn’t, she didn’t find herself terribly worried. So she curtsied and said, “Well, Ollie, I’m Laurel.”

He bowed in turn. “Laurel. A beautiful name to accompany such natural beauty as I’ve found here.” He was happy to see her pretty blush again. “Shall we continue our dance?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t learned the rest.”

“Then I’ll lead. Trust me, I know them all.” They’d been drilled into his head by tutors, and though he’d been irritated at the time, he appreciated the excuse now to be nearer to her. Laurel allowed him to take one of her hands again as he guided her other hand to his shoulder before placing his own at her waist. He nodded to her once and they were off, dancing around the clearing.

Laurel could hardly believe this was happening. She’d rarely met anyone in her life besides Ted, and now she was dancing in someone’s arms. Ollie guided her less sure movements and never complained or asked why she didn’t know them. He was a perfect gentleman.

Although as they slowed in the middle of the clearing and his arm slipped around her waist instead of resting at the side, she remembered herself. “Wait!”

Oliver, who had just been about to give into the temptation of kissing the beautiful maid, stopped. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure I should — it’s just that, before they died, my caretaker promised them I would wait for my true love to have my first kiss.” She had no way of knowing, of course, that the story was partly a lie; the Lord and Lady Lance still lived.

Oliver, for his part, was saddened to know her life had been marred by such a tragedy so young. He stepped back to allow some space between them again. “I see. But, if you don’t let anyone kiss you, how are you meant to find your true love?”

She shook her head, smiling. “I’d yet to find anyone until today, so I’ll have to let you know some other time.” She scooped up her basket. “I’m behind on my errands. I should say goodbye.”

“And wander through the woods with no escort?” He offered his arm. “Please, allow me.”

With only a moment’s hesitation, she took it, walking along towards the berry bushes she knew would yield the best results for Ted’s cooking; she could not seem to produce food of any quality on her own, but she knew what went into it.

“What is your book?” He asked, nodding to her basket.

“Today, it’s a collection of decrees by the King. Not many apply all the way out here, but I find them fascinating. Like a glimpse of the world beyond these woods.”

“How did you and your caretaker come to dwell out here?” He couldn’t help thinking that Laurel belonged in the palace with all the amenities and comforts such a life provided.

She shrugged. “I’ve lived here my whole life. I think it was a woodcutter’s cottage before it became our home.”

“Laurel?” A voice called, one familiar to her but not Oliver.

“Oh, Ted,” she whispered. She pulled her arm away from Oliver and smoothed her dress. “You have to go. He can’t see you.”

“Alright. But when can I see you?”

“Sometime,” she promised distractedly. Ted had called for her again. “I’m always out here for this or that thing. Just come find me — coming, Ted!” She stopped and turned back to Oliver, grasping his hand with both of hers. “Goodbye. And thank you for showing me the dance.”

“It was my pleasure. I’ll come find you again, Laurel.” He held onto her hands as long as he was able before they slipped from his grasp and she was hurrying away through the trees. Such a strange but captivating young maiden. He longed to be with her again already.

Oliver went back to his horse and rode for home. He evaded all questions of where he had been and what he had been up to, excusing himself to see his betrothed. Though, truthfully, he considered her far more a friend.

Oliver and Sara had courted for a time, and indeed still did to keep up appearances. But Sara had confessed she didn’t wish to settle down and be Queen with all the expectations that came with it, and Oliver, young and uninterested in commitment himself, had agreed to the ruse with little hesitation. So she was the only person he felt he could safely tell his secret to. He told her everything from the voice he had heard to the lovely maiden and the dance and conversations they had shared. “I never knew meeting someone, even for a moment, could change so much. But I think I’m in love.”

“After only one meeting?”

“I’m going to see her again. And I’ll keep seeing her the whole rest of our lives if she wants. I can’t explain it, Sara,” he told her. “I just know this is right.”

“It sounds wonderful, Oliver, it does. But you know your parents will never let you marry a common girl even if they let you out of marrying me.”

The reality of his position caught up to him once more, and his shoulders slumped. Laurel was everything he might have longed for in his love, and he was sure the whole kingdom would find her a most beautiful, intelligent and kind Lady. Even a Queen, someday. But it would never be.

“Then I simply won’t marry,” he declared. There would be two lives for him. One, Prince Oliver, heir to the throne of Starling; the other, Ollie, Laurel’s sweetheart and companion. It was the only way.

---

For years, their clandestine meetings continued. Whenever the Prince could catch a few moments of privacy, whenever the Lady could escape her minder for an hour or so in the summer sun. Winters were long and lonely as they had no place to see each other that protected them from the elements. Campaigns with the knights to protect their borders occupied nearly five years of his time as well, though the fighting kept him from having to answer his parents’ increasing demands to settle down.

And Laurel was growing impatient as well. “Haven’t we waited long enough, Ollie?”

“I thought you were worried about leaving Ted?” Her caretaker had grown quite old in the intervening years, after all.

“We wouldn’t have to abandon him. But I want to make a life with you. A home, a family. We’re already thirty. How much longer should we wait?”

He sighed. It was wrong of him to keep delaying and never explaining why, he knew that. But he was convinced that he had lied for so long about his title of Prince that she might reject him if he told the truth now.

The other complicating factor was that he wasn’t sure he even wanted to be Prince any longer. Oliver cared about his people, but he felt lost trying to fill his father’s shoes. And knowing he would only be allowed to rule without the woman he loved at his side left him defeated and uninspired.

Perhaps he wasn’t meant to be a great King like his forefathers. Thea was of age and a bright young girl at that. She could provide the kingdom with guidance, couldn’t she?

“I’ve loved you for nearly half of my life, Laurel. Is this absolutely what you have your heart set on?”

“It is.”

Oliver nodded. It was time to choose, and he already knew his choice. “Let me return home and make arrangements, gather provisions. We’ll leave tomorrow on your birthday and make our own way in the world.”

Laurel beamed, throwing her arms around him in a hug that he returned, nearly lifting her off her feet. “Thank you, Ollie. I’ll wait for you at the cottage. We can tell Ted and get his blessing.” She leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek — the closest intimacy they’d yet to share — and then they parted to enact their plan.

Once home, Oliver gathered his most trusted friends. This included Sara, Princess Thea, Tommy and Sir John, his most loyal knight and de facto advisor.

“Some of you know parts of this already, but I’ve finally made up my mind. I’m going to abdicate the throne.”

“What?” Tommy cried.

“Is it for your lady?” Thea guessed with a knowing smirk.

“Definitely gotta be the lady,” Sara agreed.

“Your Highness,” Sir John began with a frown. He had figured out some years ago that Oliver had been purposefully slipping his guard to go somewhere, but had never quite glean the location of the tiny cottage. A fact Oliver was grateful for, as it would have rather spoiled the whole thing. “What about the kingdom?”

“The kingdom is still in my father’s capable hands. And I’m sure Thea will make a better heir to the throne than me.”

“Whoa, who said I wanted to?” His sister asked.

“Ollie, just think for a minute. You’re going to leave your friends and family completely behind just for a woman you’ve met up with every so often?”

“And who you’ve been lying to,” Sir John pointed out.

“It’s not lying if I’ll no longer be the Prince,” Oliver argued, even as guilt twisted his insides. Maybe he would tell Laurel once they had gotten safely away, but he knew doing so right now would only complicate things, so what was the point? “I’ve made up my mind on this. Laurel is more important to me than anyone, so if I can’t have the life I want with her here, I’ll make one for us elsewhere. I just didn’t want you all to worry about me.”

“I say you should follow your heart,” Sara recommended.

“Yeah, but… we’ll miss you,” Thea added. He stepped forward and gathered her in a hug for a moment.

When he offered his hand to Tommy his friend reluctantly shook it before taking his leave. Sir John did not even offer his own hand.

“I suppose you’ll need to be making preparations, Oliver.”

Oliver sighed. He knew the knight thought he should be doing more for the kingdom, but he had served it for his whole life. Did he not deserve some of his own happiness?

Tommy returned to the wing of the castle set aside for him and his father, the advisor to King Robert — and Queen Moira’s lover, though only a very few within the castle knew that. Though he loathed his father, Tommy knew that leaving his authority meant losing his status in the castle, and he was prepared to admit he could not survive as a commoner. Though Oliver’s impending absence from the castle made it a far less appealing alternative.

“What has you in a sulk today, Tommy?” His father asked, sounding faintly amused at his expense.

Well, he had news that would likely knock the wind out of his father’s sails. “Ollie,” Tommy answered him. “He’s leaving his crown to spend his days with a girl he’s been seeing. I’m sure she’s beautiful and a terrific singer and everything else he’s said, I just—”

“She’s a singer?”

“Yes,” Tommy repeated slowly. “Not professionally, she doesn’t travel with the minstrels or anything. Just lives out in the woods with some cranky old guy named Ted.”

“I see,” said Malcolm, the wheels turning in his mind.

What Tommy did not realize was that his father was not content with simply being the King’s advisor; he was hungry for ever more power, and if his suspicions were correct about the identity of this maiden, he believed he had a way to get it.

“I shall have to think on what this means for the kingdom,” he said out loud, excusing himself from the room. He stopped by the royal armory to retrieve a particular item, then descended deep into the dungeons until he entered a secret room which contained only a stone idol. Malcolm knelt before it and waited.

After a moment, a blinding flash of light emitted from the idol, then standing in the room was the Unseelie himself: Damien Darhk.

“You call upon me, Lord Merlyn?”

“Yes. I believe I have information on the Lady you have long sought. And I know how it can help us both achieve our own ends.”

---

In the old woodcutter’s cottage, Laurel had just finished packing her things when a knock sounded at her door. Drawing in a breath, she called out, “It’s open, Ted.”

Her old caregiver entered the room, raising his eyebrows as he noticed the state of her things. “You’re ready?”

Laurel blinked. “Well, yes.” How did he know? Was he just guessing, or had she been too obvious in her attempts to sneak away to see Ollie? “I’ve been meaning to tell you. I just hadn’t figured out how.”

Now Ted was the one confused. “Tell me what?”

“About my leaving to start a new life. I’ve met someone, Ted. Someone wonderful. And he thinks the same of me. He’s been a man of distinct honor,” she stated, as she could see his face already start to fall. “I kept my promise to you about waiting. But I — I really do think he might be the love of my life.”

To her disappointment, he only shook his head. “I should have kept a better eye on you. I didn’t want to restrict you to the house, that just didn’t seem healthy.”

Laurel frowned. “Ted—”

“It’s not your fault. You don’t understand. But Laurel, you can’t be with him.”

She felt the color rise in her cheeks as she marched forward a step. “And why not?”

“Because your marriage has already been arranged!” He exclaimed.

Laurel’s mouth dropped open, and Ted sighed.

“You are the Lady Dinah Lance, named for your mother who still lives. Her and your father, a prominent Lord of the kingdom of Star.”

“My parents? They’re still — but why—”

“At a ceremony commemorating your birth, an Unseelie cursed you over a petty disagreement with your father. The curse was said to take effect by your 31st birthday, but Lord Lance entrusted you to my care, to keep you safe and away from the evil seeking to find you.”

Laurel couldn’t even think of what to say. She’d been cursed? What even was it a curse of? Was it in effect now?

Ted continued. “At that same celebration, the kingdom was also celebrating the birth of the new Prince. It was decided by your parents that he was to be your betrothed.”

“I’m promised to the Prince?” Laurel managed to shake her stupor enough to ask. She didn’t even know who the Prince was! King Robert’s son, she supposed, but the books they had in the cottage were old and made no mention of him. What was he like? Surely nothing like her Ollie.

“When is your young fellow coming here?”

“Tomorrow. For my birthday,” Laurel answered numbly.

“Then we’ll leave immediately to reach the castle by sunset.” He raised a hand when she opened her mouth to protest. “It is better to not involve him. For your own protection.”

She didn’t know what to feel. Her parents were alive? She had a family who had sent her away, but were waiting for her. She was a lady — but betrothed to another man!

It was this that finally caused her to sink onto her bed, her head resting in her hands.

“This isn’t fair,” she cried, her shoulders shaking.

“Life often isn’t,” Ted said simply, though she knew he meant it as a comfort. “And your life has been harder than most.” She heard his footsteps shuffle to the door and back again. “I purchased this from a traveling caravan. It might not be the standards of the court, but I thought it might better suit a lady of your standing than what I’ve been able to give you all these years.”

Laurel raised her head to see the blue gown he held out to her. It was the nicest thing she’d ever had to wear, and all she could think was that she wanted it out of her sight.

“For your birthday, huh?”

Laurel stood slowly, ignoring the dress in favor of hugging her caretaker. “Thank you, Ted. I just wish… but wishing won’t do any of us good.”

Ted nodded and left her room to allow her to change, taking her packing with him to prepare for their journey.

She would have to return tonight to see her parents; they had sacrificed so much to ensure her safety, she felt an obligation to at least assuage the worries they had to have held all these years. Once done, she could explain her situation and how she simply could not go through with the marriage they had arranged for her. Even if it was to the Prince? Surely they would understand.

If they did, would she be able to find Ollie again? How long would he wait at their cottage until he had decided she had left him? She couldn’t see any easy way out of this.

With defeat in her heart, she put on the gown and descended the steps. She felt strange, almost out of her own body in the formal dress. Ted took her hand and led her out to a horse he must have arranged for. He helped her onto it while she figured out how to ride side-saddle, and then he took the reins to lead the animal in a slow walk. To her, it felt like a funeral procession; the end of her old life and dreams.

They continued through most of the night. Sir Ted was wary of stopping for too long on the open road. But eventually, their horse needed to stop for water, so he helped Laurel off while he brought the animal to a small stream.

Laurel stared out at the trees while she waited, wishing for all the world that something might forestall this unexpected change to her life.

Then something did. A green glow off in the distance that was at once captivating and entrancing. It called to her, nearly sounding like the voice of her dear love. Laurel walked toward it, unable to help herself.

Sir Ted turned the horse back around for the path, but stopped as he discovered his charge missing from where he had left her. “Laurel?” Off through the trees, he just caught sight of her back and the green glow drawing her like a moth to flame. “Laurel!”

Laurel was heedless to his shout, hypnotized as she was by magic — for it was Darhk’s magic guiding her steps, closer and closer. She believed herself to be reaching her beloved Ollie, and therefore raised not even a hand to defend herself when the Unseelie stuck her side with an arrow from the Prince’s own quiver.

Sir Ted crashed through the undergrowth just in time to watch his dear charge collapse into the deep slumber the Sidhe had predicted. “No!”

Damien Darhk laughed to see his revenge at last carried out. He dodged the knight’s enraged strike with ease before throwing him against a tree. “You mortals thought you could outwit me, did you? Let this be a message to you all. Of course, I haven’t finished my fun. There’s a Prince I need to see to next.” With that, he disappeared in a flash of blinding light.

Sir Ted crawled towards the fallen maiden, despair filling him at the sight of her still form. “I failed you. Lord forgive me…” His arm outstretched towards hers, he fell insensate for a time.

Sir Ted roused at the sound of hooves against the dirt path. “Prince Oliver!” A voice shouted. “Prince Oliver!”

“Help,” Sir Ted mumbled weakly, before rallying his full voice. “Help, please!”

A number of guards led by Lord Merlyn himself found them. “What has happened here?” The nobleman asked, directing his guards to help both the older knight and the young lady off the earthen floor. “Speak quickly.”

“I am Sir Ted, the knight Lord Lance sent with his daughter years ago to protect her from Damien Darhk. But this night, I have failed my sworn task. Darhk appeared to her and lured her into a trap where she met with the arrow that he foretold.”

“The Prince’s arrow,” Lord Merlyn said, picking the offending weapon up from the ground. “And the same night that he has fled the castle. There has been some treachery at work tonight.”

“It was Darhk, I tell you,” Sir Ted tried to explain.

“Lord Lance must be informed, and the kingdom prepared,” Merlyn said, ignoring the retired knight. He snapped at a pair of guards. “Bring the young Lady Lance. She should be allowed to rest with her family at last.”

They carried her away before Sir Ted could voice another protest. He hurried to his horse, determined to follow the group. Even if he had failed to stop the dark prophecy from unfolding, he refused to abandon his duty to Laurel.

And he sensed a kind of treachery indeed.

---

Within the court at Star, the Lord and Lady Lance were preparing a massive feast, for it was finally the day their daughter would return. Only the older servants truly knew this, though; Quentin and Dinah had long forbidden any mentions of their lost baby, for fear it would incur the interest of the Unseelie who lurked their lands.

Yet in the midst of their preparations, a servant showed in a most auspicious guest along with two of his guard.

“Lord Malcolm,” said Lady Dinah, curtsying low. “We are honored by your presence tonight.”

“I wish I could say the honor was mine, Lady Dinah. But I fear I bring you both news of a tortuous sort. My men encountered Sir Ted the Wildcat in the woods on his way here with a young lady. The one you have been waiting for, I believe.”

Lord and Lady Lance both held their breath. Unknown to them all, Lady Sara had stopped just outside the room, curious and straining to listen in on this conversation.

“She was struck down by an arrow just as you have feared these thirty years,” Lord Merlyn told them at last.

“No!” Lady Dinah’s legs could not support her, and she fell back into a chair.

“What’s more, it was done by the Prince’s hand.”

“What?”

Lord Lance’s exclamation covered his daughter’s own gasp. Oliver had killed some young woman? He would never! And anyway, he was on his way to the woodcutter’s cottage to run off with his lady friend.

“I have begun a search for the Prince. We have no idea what he plans to do next, but it is clear the royal family has turned on us if they have seen fit to rob you of your daughter on the eve of your reunion.”

Daughter? Sara mouthed the word to herself. What did that mean? She was right here.

“I cannot believe this,” Lord Quentin said. “After everything King Robert promised. That his son would — it’s unthinkable!”

“He’s gone mad.” Lady Dinah turned to her husband. “Quentin, if he struck down our eldest, what of Sara?”

“Lord Malcolm wishes to offer protection for her,” a guard stated.

“Thank you,” Lord Quentin said. “I would ask that you protect her and my wife. Lord Malcolm, I wish to join you in your search for the Prince so that my firstborn will be avenged.”

“Wait.” Sara came out into the open at last, startling the group. “What is going on? You’re all talking like I have a sister.”

“There isn’t time, dear,” her mother said. “Go with Lord Malcolm’s guards and I’ll join you once I’ve seen to the servants.

“Come, Lady Sara,” a guard said, taking her by the arm and having to drag her out of the home where they were joined by even more guards.

“What happened to her? Why did you lie to me?” Her whole life, she’d never thought she was anything other than an only child. Why would her parents have sent one of their own away, and why would Oliver ever do something so cruel as to harm her before Sara even got to meet her? This didn’t make any sense!

“Let me go!” Sara struggled to free herself from their hold, but they outnumbered her greatly and had weapons besides. So it was to her surprise that her captors suddenly stopped.

“Move off the path!” One of them ordered.

“I will not,” said a woman’s voice, powerful and vaguely foreign-sounding. When Sara peeked over one of the guard’s shoulders, she caught a glimpse of the stranger; cloaked and with a scarf over her nose and mouth, what struck Sara first was her dark and piercing eyes. Then the sword at her side.

“You will release the maiden and tell me where I may find Lord Merlyn.”

“We’ll do no such thing. Seize her!”

What happened next, Sara could hardly believe. The woman ducked and weaved through the guards, cutting them down with practiced ease until none remained standing. Then she was suddenly standing right in front of her, but Sara found she was the one breathless.

“Come with me if you wish to be safe from those men.”

Sara took the woman’s hand without question, being pulled along away from her family’s castle, through the village, and into the surrounding trees.

“Who are you?”

Her rescuer looked back at her. “I am Nyssa, Heir to Nanda Parbat. I have been sent to settle a quarrel my father has with your kingdom’s advisor.”

“So why save me?”

“Because you required it. Is it not common for those on a quest to rescue beautiful ladies in your land? I had read as such.”

“Um, yeah, it’s common,” Sara replied, feeling her face heat up. She thought she could see the outline of a smirk beneath the scarf still adorning her rescuer’s face. “I’m Lady Sara,” she said, rallying herself. She wasn’t usually so shy, but then, she’d never been saved by a gorgeous lady before!

“Lady Sara,” said Nyssa al Ghul, bowing low over Sara’s hand and pulling her scarf down at last in order to kiss it. Sara has been right; she was gorgeous. “Do you know where I may find Lord Merlyn?”

“All I know is he’s leading my father and a bunch of men to try and capture my friend, the Prince of Star. He’s claiming Oliver hurt my sister or something — he’s claiming I have a sister in the first place, which is already news to me.”

“The fabled Lady, cursed by Darhk, perhaps?” When Sara stared at her blankly, Nyssa elaborated. “My father’s sources told him of a Lady in the court of Star cursed upon birth to fall into eternal slumber after her thirtieth year. She was secreted away from your kingdom to protect her from the Unseelie they call Damien Darhk — but it seems to me this plot is one of Lord Merlyn’s design.”

“Eternal slumber?

Sara wished she could have a minute to just process all of this, but her eye had caught upon an older-looking knight riding in on a horse with some sort of jungle cat embroidered upon his tunic. She pulled Nyssa along toward him.

“Sir Ted?”

“I am, yes. Forgive me, but I must find Lord Lance. I have news for him.”

“He knows about his daughter already,” Sara told him. “And I’m her sister.”

The knight’s face fell, and he dismounted. “I am sorry I could not protect her. But there has been a grave error made. The Prince was not her attacker. I must tell the court the truth, and then return to the cottage to see if I may find Laurel’s love waiting for her there. He may be her only hope.”

“Then it is true love’s kiss which breaks the curse?” Nyssa asked.

“My sister’s name is Laurel?”

Sir Ted looked down. “I called her such for thirty years to better hide her, yes. Her true name is Lady Dinah, the betrothed of Prince Oliver and therefore the future Queen of our kingdom. But if the man she met on her own is her true love, then nothing can stand in the way of bringing him here.”

“No, but my friend, Oliver, he’s the Prince. And he met a girl out in the woods years ago. He’s planning to meet her at her cottage and run away, and her name is Laurel.” Sara gasped. “Ollie’s Laurel. He’s walking into a trap!”

“Then we will attempt to intercede,” declared Nyssa. “I must borrow your horse, Sir. Come, Lady Sara.” Nyssa helped her step into the stirrups, then mounted the horse behind Sara, bracketing her with her arms as she reached for the reins to spur the horse into a gallop.

“Find Laurel!” Sara called back to the knight. “We’ll bring Ollie to her!”

She could only hope they reached Oliver before her father and Lord Merlyn did.

---

As Oliver approached the woodcutter’s cottage for the first time, he observed his surroundings and slowed. The air was still, the trees quiet. Not a single creature making noise, and no candles were lit inside despite it being just after daybreak. Something was amiss.

The door swung open, and a man with nearly white-blond hair stepped out. “Oh fine, don’t fall for it. I can improvise.”

Oliver reached for an arrow in his quiver. “Who are you, and what have you done with Laurel?” He could tell by the man’s voice that this certainly wasn’t her caretaker Ted.

“I am Damien Darhk, the infamous Unseelie. And what I’ve done to your beloved is what I promised to do thirty years ago as thanks for the slight her father Lord Lance dealt me.”

Oliver froze. Lord Lance was Laurel’s father? But she’d told him she was an orphan, and Sara had never made mention of an older sister.

“I can see the wheels struggling to turn,” Darhk remarked with amusement. “Allow me to explain. When you were a baby, your parents entered you into a betrothal arrangement with Lord and Lady Lance’s daughter. Their eldest daughter. The whole kingdom was invited except me. Kind of a harsh way to find out you’re so disliked, right? So I cursed her to die before her thirty-first birthday.”

Oliver had been taught about the Sidhe and Unseelie by his various tutors, but this seemed unconscionable. “You cursed an infant for something she had no control over?”

“Yes. I am evil, that is the idea,” Darhk replied. Just as Oliver nocked his arrow on the bow, the Unseelie raised his hand and he felt himself frozen in place. “I wasn’t done talking,” Darhk said, his voice turning cold for an instant.

Try as he might, Oliver couldn’t seem to break the spell over him.

“Now, the dear girl’s parents hoped to keep her safe by hiding her out in the woods, and it might have worked. Except you told your good friend Tommy all about your sweet maiden with the beautiful hair and stunning voice, and he complained all about how you were leaving him behind to his father, Lord Merlyn. Who works for me.”

Anger, white hot, burned in his gut. His father’s best friend had betrayed them all?

“And see, this has all worked out even better than I could have planned. Your love now sleeps forever unless she can be awakened by true love’s kiss, which is you. But right now, Lords Merlyn and Lance are on their way here with a small army because I may have borrowed an arrow from your armory to do the job. Whoops!”

If he had his voice, Oliver would have uttered a thousand curses and oaths at the Unseelie by now.

“So, you get to battle your way through your own kingdom’s people on your way to the kingdom for your true love, who you may awaken with a kiss assuming you don’t die or have to kill her father or something else horrible,” Darhk said. Then his grin turned sharp. “Or I could just end it all right now and ensure the lovely lady never wakes up.”

He closed his hand into a fist, and Oliver suddenly found his breath stopped. He was choking on nothing.

An arrow shot past him and very nearly embedded itself into Darhk’s eyeball had he not grabbed it at the last second, breaking whatever hold he had on Oliver. “Hm, craftsmanship suggests Nanda Parbat…”

Oliver did not hear anymore. He went crashing through the trees, knowing he needed to put as much distance between himself and the Unseelie as possible if he was to ever reach Laurel.

To his right cane a shout. “There he is!”

Guards normally under the command of his father descended down a slope with swords drawn. He struggled to outrun them and knew they would soon be upon him—

“Ollie!”

Sara’s voice had him looking round. She was holding the reins of a horse while an unknown woman holding a bow swung off the back.

“How did you—”

“Come on!”

“Rescue your love,” Sara’s new friend ordered him. “And leave Merlyn to me.” She stride past him to face the oncoming guards.

Sara reached out a hand to help pull him up. “How did you figure all this out?” He asked her.

“I’m kind of learning as I go. Now you have to go wake up my sister so I can finally have one. I can’t believe you never brought me to meet her.”

“I didn’t know!”

“Sara, what are you doing?” Lord Quentin yelled upon seeing his other daughter preparing to take off with the man he believed to have harmed his eldest.

“You’ll understand later, I promise!” She snapped the reins, and the horse took off.

Lord Merlyn sent some of his mounted guards after them, led by Lord Quentin. Then he approached his adversary on foot. “Nyssa. I suppose I should have expected this.”

“And yet you made no preparations. How thoughtless of you.” She exchanged her bow for her sword, watching as he did the same.

“You think by beating me you will finally win your father’s elusive approval?”

“It matters not. You have conspired against a dear lady and her family.” She readied her stance. “For that alone, I will be glad to rid the earth of you.”

At once, the two charged, meeting in the middle with a clang of swords. Though Merlyn possessed great height and strength, Nyssa was his equal if not better in skill. She had prepared her whole life for the warrior’s path, and her fury at what had been done to hurt Lady Sara and her sister propelled her to new heights. They exchanged blow after blow, circling the small clearing again and again, until at last, Nyssa’s sword caught Merlyn’s and flung it out of his reach.

He held up both hands. “Nyssa, wait. I’m a father, the only family my son has left in this world.”

“Yet you ally yourself with those who would steal children from their parents.” Unwilling to hear his pathetic pleas any further, she cut him down.

Meanwhile, Sara and Oliver’s progress through the woods was greatly impeded by a forest of thorns spontaneously growing in their path every which way Sara turned the horse. “It’s Darhk,” Oliver realized. “I’ll have to go on foot. Hold off your father. Try to explain.”

“Alright, but hurry, Ollie.”

The Prince plunged into the brambles, hacking at them with his sword over and over, slowly but steadily cutting his path. They tore at his clothes and his skin but he battled through the pain, knowing that at the end of all this was something he wanted more than life itself.

He fought off beasts, transformed and monstrous with Darhk’s magic, and forded streams that had turned into raging rapids threatening to flood the land. When at last he spied the gates of the kingdom, he was forced to dodge a volley of arrows from the guards at the ramparts. Oliver used a back way he and Tommy had discovered as children to sneak over the castle walls and into the place he’d called home.

The castle itself was quiet and still. The sudden upset of the coup seemed to have all on edge. Nevertheless, he snuck his way to the kitchen where he hoped to find aid.

“Raisa?”

Sure enough, their old cook still busied herself by the fireplace, though she jumped in alarm at his voice. “Prince Oliver!”

He shushed her, and she glanced around before engulfing him in a hug.

“I’m so relieved you’ve made it home alive. But if you’re seen—”

“Some allies of mine are dealing with Lord Merlyn and the guards. What’s become of my family?”

“The Queen and the Princess have been confined to their rooms. No one is to go in or out, save select servants. I am one.”

“And my father?” He asked, dreading the answer.

Her crestfallen face told him the truth before her words. “Slain by Lord Merlyn. The servants all know it was him.” She wrapped him in a second hug, this time one of comfort which he gladly accepted. “I fear for your life as long as you remain here.”

“I have to put an end to this, Raisa. I have to break the curse, so that peace can be restored and the truth known. Tell me, do you know where they are keeping Lord and Lady Lance’s daughter? I don’t mean Sara.”

“So it is the lost Lady,” Raisa breathed. “I brought water and bread to a knight long retired from his duties. He has hidden himself in the highest room of the tallest tower, where he guards the young lady you speak of.”

“Thank you, Raisa.” He left the kitchens and made his way to the tower. Oliver took the stairs at a run, knowing he was trapping himself the higher he climbed. If he was discovered before reaching the highest room, it might all be over.

At last, he cleared the final stair to find a locked door. He knocked, calling out, “Sir Ted?”

For his part, Sir Ted has done as Lady Sara requested and found her sister. The guards had placed her sleeping form on a cart while they discussed their orders to shoot the Prince on sight, only leaving one guard to watch Laurel. Ted has chosen not to engage the younger man in formal combat and instead punched him out before securing his charge and hiding them within the unused room in the tower. He had hoped to spy the return of Lady Sara, Nyssa and Prince Oliver, but the forest of thorns had obscured his sight. Now, he rose and answered the door.

“My Prince,” he said, bowing his head slightly. Then, with a wary look down the stairs beyond, he opened the door another few inches to allow Oliver inside, taking his place on the stairs to watch for any guards and to grant the couple a moment’s privacy.

Laurel rested on the room’s only bed, her hair like spun gold fanning out over the pillows. Her chest rose and fell slowly, the one indication that she was not totally lost to this world.

Oliver walked forward, kneeling at her bedside and taking one of her hands. “Lady of the court or not, betrothed or not, you will always be the love of my life. I still need you, Laurel.” With this declaration, he softly kissed her lips with his own, pulling back to look at her with his breath held.

Her eyelids fluttered. That was the first sign. Then the color returned to her cheeks. Her fingers curled around his, and her green eyes blinked open.

“What? Where am I… Ollie!”

His eyes felt strangely wet for the wideness of his smile. “Prince Oliver of Star, actually.”

Laurel’s eyes widened. “You- you knew this whole time?”

“Not about this!” He hurriedly clarified. “I didn’t know you were really my betrothed who was cursed by an Unseelie or that I needed to break the curse by kissing you — but I’m glad at least about the last part.”

Laurel touched a hand to her lips. “You kissed me?”

He nodded. “Sorry. I would’ve waited for you to be awake, but that was kind of the problem.”

Laurel shook her head. “I cannot believe we were really supposed to be together this whole time.”

“I can.”

She smiled at him, shaking her head a little as she brought both arms around his shoulders to draw him closer.

But a flash of light startled them both and announced the arrival of Darhk himself. Angered by Malcolm’s and his own failures to impede the young lovers, he sought to take revenge for himself — until Lady Laurel released a scream from her mouth that threw him from the window of the tallest tower and to the ground below. He remained there, unmoving.

Laurel placed a hand over her mouth as Oliver checked this, and both turned upon Sir Ted rushing back into the room. “Laurel!”

“I’m fine, Ted. We both are. I just…”

“The Sidhe’s gifts,” Sir Ted concluded. “They are known to work in mysterious ways.”

Down below came a series of shouts. Loudest among them, the voice of Lord Lance. “Lay down your weapons! We’ve been tricked, all of us, by Lord Merlyn! The Prince is not our enemy!”

“I must tell your father the curse has been lifted,” Sir Ted explained, leaving through the door once again.

“My father,” Laurel echoed, standing to watch the people rushing about down below.

“That’s him there,” Oliver pointed out for her. “The young lady beside him is Sara, my friend. And your younger sister.”

Laurel gasped. “I have a sister?” A tentative smile rose on her lips. “And who’s her lady friend?”

Oliver watched the woman with dark hair who had taken on Merlyn as she followed Sara’s every step like a keenly devoted shadow. “I… don’t actually know yet. But they seem pretty close.”

“You’re the Prince. I’m betrothed to the Prince, which means… I’m going to be a Princess.”

“Not exactly.” When she looked at him, Oliver explained. “Merlyn killed my father, which means I have to succeed him on the throne.”

Laurel stared at him. “I’m going to be a Queen?”

“If you would. I was prepared to run away just to have a life with you, Laurel. I could never imagine doing this without you by my side.”

Laurel’s heart felt warm and nearly overflowing, to the point where all she could do was nod.

“We’ll worry about the details after you’ve had a chance to meet your family,” he promised her.

“And after you’ve had a chance to mourn yours,” she added, taking his hands. He was glad for that measure of comfort and support, and gladder still when she guided his hands to rest on her waist.

“For now, I for one believe I am still owed a kiss.”

“A kiss?” Nevertheless, he obliged.

Though the kingdom was in some disarray from the sudden upheaval wrought by Darhk and his conspirators, the emergence of the young royals would help to soothe the pain of King Robert’s loss for all. King Oliver, helped by his friends and advisors, would work to improve the lives of all the peoples of his kingdom. The most salient advice he found nearly always came from his Queen, whose own experiences growing up outside the courtly life often proved invaluable.

Her sister, Lady Sara, would go on to be the kingdom’s emissary to the land of Nanda Parbat, which made both Sara and Nyssa very happy. The Ladies Lance would also quickly grow close and exchange letters and visits often. And even when Sara was away, Laurel found she had her father, Oliver’s mother and sister, Sir Ted and always Oliver himself to provide the companionship and belonging she had often craved in her youth.

And they all lived happily ever after.

---

“More, more, more!” Chanted four year-old Olivia Queen, still as wide awake where she bounced on her bed as when he’d brought her up here for her story.

“More?” Oliver let his mouth fall open in a gape. “But that’s it! That’s all that happened.”

“Nooo!” Olivia cried, the word drawn out. “They gotta bring peace to the kingdom and get married and go on dates with Lady Sara and her girlfriend and find a nice house for Sir Ted—”

“For the record,” said William, standing in the doorway, “it doesn’t make any sense for Sir Ted to have taken Laurel to the highest room in the tallest tower. How was he going to escape if he needed to?”

“Well,” Oliver said, floundering for a moment. “He didn’t need to.”

“An’ it’s special,” Olivia told her half-brother. Oliver gave her an approving nod.

“You mean it’s Disney?”

“Hey, we don’t support the monopolization of the entertainment industry in this house,” Oliver reminded, pointing a finger at his eldest. “But fair use is fair use, so—”

“I am not hearing snoring children,” Laurel’s voice came in partial sing-song from down the hall before she stopped behind William. “You nitpicking your dad’s storytelling abilities again?”

William shrugged. “A bit.” He wasn’t quite out of the teenage years, clearly.

“Mommy, you were a Princess!”

“I was? Well, that’s news to me.” She stepped around William and walked to the bed, guiding their daughter to finally lie down under the covers instead of hopping around on top of them.

“Uh-huh. And you were asleep an’ dad kissed you.” Olivia giggled, clearly thinking the idea very silly.

“Well, now it’s your turn to get some rest, Sleeping Beauty,” Laurel told her. “I can’t promise you a true love, but I can promise your dad’s pancakes in the morning before we take William to the train station.”

“Does Will have to go?” Olivia whined.

“Yes. We can’t hog him from his mom all the time.”

“Okay,” Olivia agreed, subdued.

“We’ll see him in two weeks,” Oliver promised, meeting William’s eyes and getting a nod from him. Then he stood and joined Laurel to finish tucking their daughter in. “And we’ll do a new story, then.”

Olivia smiled up at him before yawning wide. “I love you, daddy.”

And damn, that really always did something to him. Oliver blinked back the stinging at the corners of his eyes and bent down to kiss her forehead. “Love you too, beautiful baby.”

Laurel and William each exchanged similar good nights with Olivia before they shut all but her Flash-symbol nightlight off and left her room.

Laurel loosely draped an arm around William’s shoulders as they all moved down the hall. “You all packed?”

“Pretty much. Just, you know, toiletries and stuff.”

“Okay, good. Go get some rest, honey.”

“Goodnight, Laurel. Night, dad.”

“Goodnight.” Oliver watched his son head into his own room for the night, breathing in once and letting it out again with a distinct air of contentment.

“Sleeping Beauty? Really?”

He looked down at Laurel. “Why not? You’re beautiful, even when you sleep.”

Laurel swatted at his arm. “Why pick the story where I have to be asleep though?”

He shrugged. “You were only asleep for a little bit. And it kind of, I don’t know, mirrored our lives. The, the life support,” he muttered quietly, still finding it hard to talk about that horrible time she’d been hovering between life and death at the hospital.

It had forced him to grapple with his feelings for her and the conviction he needed to finally do right by her, but he would gladly pay any price never to have to live through something like that again.

Laurel seemed to sense his spiraling mood, for she stepped in close and wrapped her arms around him, fitting herself against him in that perfect way they had. “Hey, I’m fine. We both are.”

He held back a smirk hearing her unknowingly echo some of the lines he’d given her in the story. They really did know each other too well sometimes.

“We have a beautiful family, a city that’s on the mend even if it still needs some help here and there. And we have each other.” She tilted her head back to meet his eyes. “That’s my idea of a fairytale.”

“And here I thought you’d groan if I used a ‘happily ever after’ pickup line.”

Laurel’s forehead dropped against his chest. “I am groaning. That’s so bad.”

He grinned unabashedly. “So bad it’s good?”

“...if I say yes, does that get you into the bedroom?”

“It’s a safe bet.” He allowed Laurel to start pulling them along without an answer.

Fatherhood had certainly given him the opportunity to polish his storytelling skills, but it had also taught him not to let a quiet moment go to waste. And if that was one of the biggest challenges to his day, he had to agree with Laurel that they really were living their once upon a dream.

#lauriverweek2020 #lauriver #laurel lance #oliver queen #arrow #laurel x oliver #nyssara #nyssa al ghul #sara lance #green arrow #black canary #my writing

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cottonblush · 5 years

Text

excalibur | ljn

❧ word count: 10,079

❧ genre: fluff because that’s literally all i know how to write lmao

❧ notes: the way that jeno is so pure and precious i couldn’t stop smiling when i wrote this,,, ugh HIS POWER! once again, tysm kp for the feedback! i hope this version is a lot better:)

❧ moodboard

The heat of the forge is something that used to bother you, but after spending almost a decade at Ulric’s Forge, your skin has developed into a shield of sorts. The heat of the thousand-degree flame no longer dries out your eyes and you can proudly say the sparks that fly off the forge feel no stronger than a bug bite. Over the years, you’ve developed into a strong and independent woman, or as strong and independent as a woman could get in such medieval times. You’ve gained the respect of most of the men at the forge, though it took walking into a sleeping dragon’s lair to convince the oldest blacksmith, Cedric, that you’re tough enough to make it at Ulric’s. The whole ordeal was worth it because not only did you gain respect, but also a family. The guys at the forge are people you can trust with your life, people who have your back. A specific instance is when your single father passed away during one of the many wars that swept the nation. You were only ten years old at the time, but your father worked at the forge and no one hesitated to bring you in and teach you the trade.

Speaking of which, your specialty is swords. You’ve always been fascinated with them and figure that if you could keep on developing better weapons, people would be able to defend themselves better and fewer people would die; fewer children would be left without their fathers. You’ve slowly amassed a reputation for making quite strong and dependable swords as well as new types of swords. You’ve actually been testing out designs for a curved sword and are currently working on one, hand repeatedly striking hot iron, when you’re interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat.

You look up from your work, eyes traveling across the figure standing in front of you. The young man, Na Jaemin, is a famous sorcerer who holds a lot of power in the kingdom. He also happens to be a close friend since birth. He’s squinting due to the immense heat coming from the burning coal, but even then you can see his pleading eyes and you can tell he’s about to ask you for a troublesome favor.

Your premonition is correct as Jaemin is asking you to make him a sword mere seconds later. It needs to be perfect, he says; if possible, it needs to be more than perfect. The weapon needs to be made out of the most durable material and has to be able to cut straight through stone. When you ask who it’s for⁠— Jaemin has never even touched a sword in his life and doesn’t plan on it since he fights with his “superior magical prowess"⁠— you’re told that the sword will be for the new king. Instantly, your brain comes up with a barrage of questions. Has the new king already been selected? Why do you have to be the one to make it? And realistically speaking, couldn’t Jaemin just conjure up one in the blink of an eye?

Jaemin answers all of your questions fast enough that you’d think he read your mind, but you know he didn’t because the two of you agreed he wouldn’t after he tried to once, found out about your first crush, and subsequently teased you about it for months on end, receiving a cold shoulder in return.

"I guess I should specify that it’s not just for the future king but for the selection of the future king. Of course, I could conjure a sword since I am that powerful, but I could only make a generic sword. You guys are the ones who can experiment with designs and materials. And before you complain, it has to be you. You might not be the best or most experienced, but there’s intention behind what you do. Your hopes and dreams are passed down into every single one of your creations. I can feel it. There’s no one else I know who would fit the job better.”

“Not even Johnny? He may only have two years of experience under his belt but he’s quite the prodigy when it comes to this kind of stuff.”

“Not even Johnny.”

You groan externally, but your insides are bubbling with excitement. You’ve never said no to a request unless you knew it was going to be used for something immoral. Plus, you’re sure the reward for this sword is quite hefty. However, you try to keep a serious façade because you know Johnny and Woojin would mock you by copying whatever sentiment you express except at a higher decibel. You place your hands on Jaemin’s shoulders, his smooth robe feeling strange and foreign under your rough, weathered palms, and steer him out of the forge. The smoke and heat are clearly starting to take a toll because once he gets outside, he wheezes so hard you would think he’s had weak lungs since birth.

“Leave it to me,” you say, hand coming up to wave him goodbye as you tell him you’ll give him an update after two weeks.

Returning to your forge, you spread out the coals, allowing them to cool down at least a little bit before turning your attention to the notebook in your bag. You pull out the old leather book and take a seat on a stool, propping your chin up on your hand and ignoring the dull pain of your elbow digging into your thigh. You flip to a new page, paper feeling slightly unpleasant against your hands that have had the moisture sucked out of them by the dry heat. Making a list of all of the possible metals you can use and the combinations you can try, you also draw in a column on the side and give each an individual score based on practicality, weight, cost, and durability. However, you don’t do any eliminating yet as you never know which metals you may need for the design you end up choosing.

You head out to talk to your suppliers, asking each if there are any new alloys that have been made or if any new materials have been discovered. Most say the same, scratching their chins and going down the same list of precious metals and steel mixes. You’ve just about given up hope and are walking back to the forge dejectedly, feet gently kicking up small clouds of dust along the rocky path. At the last minute, something catches your attention in the outermost corner of your peripheral vision. There’s a cloaked figure resting against one of the trees of the forest that borders the market. You don’t know why but it feels like the person is calling to you so you turn back, taking hesitant steps toward them.

“Excuse me,” you call out. “I’m looking for different precious metals and materials that can be used in a sword. They have to be really strong, though. Do you happen to know where I can get any? I already have a sufficient supply of iron so I’m not really looking for that.”

The voice that responds is just a little over a whisper, like a gentle breeze tickling the shell of your ear, but you can hear the response clearly, “I can get you what you need, but it’ll be pricey.”

Your eyes light up and you almost skip over to the mysterious figure, grabbing a hand to shake. The action startles the stranger, causing their shoulders to shoot up and the loose hood that covers their face to fall down behind them. A sharp breath escapes your mouth as your hand releases theirs and raises so your fingers are ghosting over your lips. Your soft petals are parted in shock from the sight before you, a light pink flush spilling over your cheeks. It turns out that this mysterious person is not an actual person, but a faerie. The young man before you is the first of his kind you have seen and it is truly a shame because he is breathtakingly beautiful in an understated type of way. His hair is a pink that appears softer than even the freshest of tulips and his ears are small, dainty, and pointed at the top.

“You’re a faerie,” you breath out, partly in shock but mostly in awe.

The faerie, who introduces himself as Renjun, does not try to deny it. He explains that his kind usually prefer to keep to themselves, but he has personally had an interest in humans for as long as he can remember. Renjun also adds that the metal that he has access to is something that only faeries know about, so it will truly be one of a kind in the human world.

When you ask him why he is so eager to offer up something that has been kept secret for so long, Renjun admits that he was spying on Jaemin earlier and happened to hear your conversation. He says that if he plays a part in making the future king’s sword, perhaps the ruler will offer them protection from any future enemies and faeries will finally be able to rejoin the human world. Overall, his explanation seems legitimate enough so you decide to make a deal. You’ll pay him as much as you can for it, and you’ll also find him someone who’s willing to show him around the world beyond the borders of Avalon.

In the meantime, you return to the forge and plan to test out different materials for the hilt of the sword and for new creations as well. As you hammer into different kinds of metals, you think to yourself with a soft smile that this really is something you can see yourself doing for the rest of your life. The aspect of discovering something new is something that you constantly yearn for and through this job, you’ll be able to meet new people and constantly learn new techniques.

You’re so lost in thought, the thick smoke wafting off the glowing hot coals also seeming to cloud your mind as well, that you don’t even notice that you have visitors. There are three men standing at the entrance, eyes drifting around and taking in their surroundings. They’re tall and lanky, disinterest seemingly tattooed onto each of their faces. The man in the middle starts to saunter around, perking a brow at anything that brings the slightest bit of interest. The other two that flank his sides walk over to one of the other blacksmiths in the forge, Jinyoung. Your eyes go back to the anvil you’re working on, noticing your steel bar has gone cold and you need to place it back in the flames.

The bar has regained its bright orange glow when you pull it out, aligning it against the surface of the anvil. You bring your hammer down several times, each hit precise and filled with purpose.

A voice interrupts you as you’re flattening out the steel rod in order to make a handle, “What are you making there, sweetheart?”

You grit your teeth at first, rolling your eyes and hoping if you ignore this guy then he’ll eventually leave you alone. Unfortunately, that’s not the case as he just begins to pester you even more.

“Are you sure you can handle that? Want a strong guy like me to help you out?”

Having had enough, you look up to the man and meet his eyes, this time striking down your hammer with an unnecessarily excessive amount of force. The irritating and unwanted visitor visibly stiffens, intimidated and surprised by your display of strength, and backs off. He walks backwards slowly, eyeing you warily as he rejoins his friends.

You can vaguely hear him saying, “Jinyoung, where did you guys find that weirdo? She’s scary strong, for a girl anyway.”

You smirk to yourself, but then you look down and notice that you’ve used so much strength in that last blow that you’ve accidentally broken the hammer you were using. It’s your favorite hammer, especially efficient in flattening surfaces and absorbing some of the impact so it creates less of a strain on your wrist. You doubt anyone has one that’s just like yours, but you decide to ask around anyway. Unfortunately for you, no one you know seems to have it. But there is one person you have yet to ask. He’s wearing goggles to protect his eyes as he gets up close and personal with whatever he’s working with. You don’t recognize him so you figure he’s new around the forge, but you might as well give it a shot and ask him. Walking up to the man, you wait for him to finish with whatever he’s doing before clearing your throat.

"You don’t happen to have a hand hammer just like this one, do you?”

The man takes off his goggles and repositions them on his smooth forehead, eyes scanning over the broken hammer you’re holding in your hands. He thinks for a moment, fingers leaving their place on his cold chisel to drum against the wooden table he’s leaning against, before rummaging through his own tools.

“Sorry, I don’t have one; I just have chisels and maybe two or three hammers,” he says, voice softer and calmer than you were expecting.

You nod slowly, shoulders slumping slightly in dejection as you rock back and forth on your heels and contemplate what to do next.

“Hey,” you start, “are you new? I haven’t seen you around here before.”

The man, who had turned back to face his own forge, jumps a little in surprise, probably not expecting you to continue the dialogue.

“N-No. I mean, yes! I just joined around a month ago but I haven’t really taken the time to introduce myself to everyone so I guess it’s my fault no one recognizes me.”

You laugh and wave him off, assuring, “Don’t worry about it! It gets kinda busy around here so I totally understand. I’ll make sure you’re invited to our next group trip to the cavern. I’m Y/n, by the way. What’s your name?”

The young man reveals his name to be Lee Jeno, smiling a warm smile at you and waving slightly.

“Well, Jeno, it’s certainly nice to meet you. Anyway, since no one has the kind of hammer I’m looking for, I might as well go visit the market. Even though I just got back from there.”

You whisper the last part but even in the midst of the chaos of the forge, Jeno still manages to catch what you say. He hesitantly offers to come with you, wanting to check out the different stalls to see if they have any new hot chisels for him to use. The two of you walk side by side on the familiar dirt path that leads from the forge back to the center of town. You take the time to observe the man beside you. Your eyes start by sweeping over his figure and taking note of his impressive height compared to your own and how his slightly tanned skin seems to glow under the sun. Jeno is looking ahead, deep pools clearly reflecting his surroundings. You’re pretty sure if you squint, you could check out your own reflection. When his head starts to turn towards you, you snap your head forward, acting as if you weren’t just checking him out.

Your companion asks, “So how old are you? I’m nineteen.”

“Eighteen,” you respond, “but I’ve been working in the forge since I was ten, so I actually have more experience than some of the older guys. My dad used to work in the forge as well.”

“That’s really cool. I was actually in training for something else before I joined Ulric’s. But I really like it there. Everyone’s like one big family.”

“Exactly! I’m glad you feel that way too. Don’t forget that if you ever need anything, you can come to any one of us and we’ll be glad to help.”

Jeno’s lips curve upward into a smile and you can’t help but notice how his eyes form the shape of a crescent moon as if they too are smiling. He’s about to express his gratitude towards you when you’re interrupted. A guy, a stranger to you, walks up to Jeno and wraps an arm around his shoulders, punching him lightly in the side with his other hand. Jeno seems to recognize the two because he offers them the same kind smile you received moments before.

“Hey, Jeno! How’ve you been, dude? Still pursuing that pipe dream of yours?”

Jeno tenses up beside you and you start to notice that his smile wasn’t the same genuine smile to begin with. His lips are stretched thin and his jaw is taut. You can tell this man is Jeno’s old friend, but even so, you won’t stand for the way he acts.

“Jeno’s actually a really good blacksmith, for your information,” you say in your companion’s defense. “He’s probably the best person in our forge to go to for detailing.”

The stranger, who deems you unworthy of knowing his name, decides to ignore you and take a step back to look at Jeno, giving him a once over. He narrows his eyes in scrutiny and looks like he’s about to continue his attack on Jeno’s already meek personality when a second person joins the conversation.

“Oh! Jeno, is that you? It’s been forever!”

A girl, rather a beautiful young lady, runs up to the three of you, throwing her arms around the man she called out to. Her voice is light and airy, like a wind chime on a calm summer day, and her long hair flows down to her hips, curling ever so elegantly. She has flowers laced in her hair and her gown is made of a rich red satin, not a stain to be seen. She’s everything you’re not and even you have to admit that you’re stunned by her beauty. When she lets go, her eyes flicker toward you, as if just noticing you for the first time.

She asks, now blatantly staring at you, “Who’s this?”

“She works in the forge. We just came to the market to look for new tools.”

The girl’s expression lights up, no longer deeming you a threat, and introduces herself, “Oh, hello! I’m Yoona, Jeno’s friend. My brother, Yonghee, and I have known Jeno since we were little kids.”

The way Yoona says the word ‘friend’ has a bitter tinge to it and you can instantly recognize the crush she’s harboring for Jeno. However, Jeno is completely unaware, eyes nervously darting about. You’ve had enough of it and decide it’s time to go, grabbing his wrist and pulling him toward a stall that you know to have high-quality tools.

You call out behind you, “It was really nice meeting you, Yoona, but we’re in a bit of a rush right now. Maybe we can talk some other time.”

You don’t give them a chance to respond, instead turning a corner and going into the alley where the shop is located. You step in, welcomed by the cool air of the building. Realizing you still have a hold of Jeno’s wrist, you let it go and turn to look at some of the sledgehammers on display. You expect for Jeno to do his own thing and look at the chisels since you know that’s what he came with you for, but you find him following you like a little duckling follows its mother. His attention is not on you, but on the hammers resting in a display case. He runs his fingers along each one, grabbing some to see how they would feel under his hands.

He asks you and the shopkeeper, “What would be the best hammer for a beginner? I hate to admit it but I’m really not that strong yet, so I’d like something easier to maneuver.”

The shopkeeper leads the two of you to a section with smaller hammers, stating that they’re lighter, though they’re not as strong. Jeno raises a brow towards you as if asking if he should purchase one or not. Of course, you’re not one to say no and if he has the money for it, you don’t see the harm. Not long after, the two of you are walking back to the forge, both having purchased a hammer. Jeno stops in his tracks, free hand coming up to rub at his other arm.

He clears his throat and says, gesturing to his newly acquired hammer, “Actually, I was wondering if you could teach me how to use this properly.”

Of course, you agree, eager to share your passion. However, you want to add something else, eyes stuck on the way Jeno’s figure seems to cave into itself.

“Why aren’t you more confident in yourself?” you ask.

You don’t mean it offensively. It’s just that Jeno lets himself be bossed around so easily. He’s too nice for his own good. He explains that he’s just always been this way and he doesn’t really see anything to be confident in. You don’t know why but your heart throbs at his words. Can’t he see that he’s worth more than the value he’s placing upon himself? You want to help him, though you’re not sure how. Contemplating it for a few moments, you come up with the beginnings of an idea: you’re going to help Jeno get in shape. You think maybe if he feels more confident in his figure, he’ll start standing up for himself.

Introducing the idea, you watch as Jeno plays with the idea for a bit. Eventually, he agrees. He admits that although he’s not sure it’ll help with his self-esteem, it won’t hurt when it comes to his work in the forge.

There's a clearing in the forest by the forge that you two decide to meet at. It's not big, probably a circle with a diameter no more than fifteen feet, but it'll do for what you have in mind. It's rather calm too, the bustling sounds of the townspeople completely out of earshot and the thick smoke of the forge nowhere to be seen. Trees surround you, tall enough that several families of birds have built nests, their chirps and calls echoing sonorously. And yet, they're short enough that the sun's rays can clearly filter through.

You arrive first, setting down your canteen and satchel against the trunk of one of the trees along the perimeter. You've brought two swords from the forge with you, one light and one heavy but both blunt; you're not aiming to damage anything. You hold the lighter sword out as soon as you see Jeno approaching. He takes it, features morphing to show his surprise at how easy it is to wield.

"It's for beginners," you explain. "I made it myself, actually. Just for you, so consider yourself lucky."

Starting with basic drills, you teach Jeno how to dodge and parry with the correct stance. He practices against a still target at first, blade making small cuts along the thick trunks of the tall trees. The young man is making quick progress and soon you decide he's ready to start practicing with you. You take it slow at first, repeating the same exercises that you had him do with the trees, except you shift your weight from one foot to the other, bouncing back and forth. Jeno tires easily and you can understand why. The heat in the forge is strong and dry, but this summer day is humid, beads of sweat lining both of your foreheads. The sound of heavy breathing fills the air as the two of you slump down against the trees.

"Is it always this hard?"

Your eyes flicker up to look at Jeno as he practically wheezes out his question. You tilt your head back and let out a laugh.

"No, I promise it's not. But have you ever really worked out before?"

The man sighs and hangs his head in shame, causing you to laugh once again. You reassure him that it's okay but you think it'd be good for him to work on building muscle too. His expression is distraught but you can tell he's joking from the way his lips are twitching, a hint of a smile peeking through.

"Take off your shirt," you say.

Jeno splutters, surprised by your sudden request, "W-What? Wait, like right now?"

"Yes, now. I want to see what I'm working with if we’re going to bulk you up. Don't worry, I don't bite."

You're teasing him, but you do want to see his physique without the blacksmith apron or baggy shirt he always wears. He slowly peels off his shirt, sweat causing it to stick to some parts of his back and arms. You're not shocked when met with the sight of an outline of ribs and a flat stomach. However, you're pleasantly surprised when you see that he already has some definition in his biceps from working at the forge and his shoulders are actually quite broad. His skin is fair but still has a healthy tan, and you have to stop yourself from staring for too long.

Jeno feels as naked as the day he was born as he watches you scrutinize him like a hawk. He wants to curl up into a ball but he knows you'd probably reprimand him and tell him to be more confident. At that thought, a smile settles on his face. Your presence has already made itself known in his mind, reminding him whenever he feels small that he is worth more than he thinks. He appreciates it more than you'll ever know and the only thing he can think to do to repay you is to listen wholeheartedly to what you have to say and make you proud.

You clear your throat, realizing that even though you tried not to, you ended up ogling the boy before you. Jeno gets back to practicing, completely oblivious to the embarrassed flush that has turned your ears and neck a hot pink.

Between slashes, he asks, question coming out low as he quickly becomes short of breath, "Where did you learn how to fight like this? I mean, you're so good that you could even be a knight."

You're in the middle of picking up your own sword when you freeze, the question bringing back some delicate memories. Sensing the sudden shift in the air, Jeno panics, waving his free hand frantically. He assures you that you don't have to share if you don't want to, but you silence him by waving him off.

"It's okay, Jeno. I don’t mind talking about it. You see, my dad was one of the top blacksmiths at the forge and he had a lot of knight friends that would come to him with custom requests. He'd often travel to the castle and to the training grounds to visit them and sometimes I would tag along. 'Sometimes' turned into weekly visits, even when my dad didn't go. I was just fascinated with how cool the knights looked. I wanted to be a knight so much back then."

Jeno inquires, "What made you change your mind?"

"Well, there was this one time that I actually got to watch the knights from the inside instead of observing from over the top of the fence. I saw some kids watching them too and I went to introduce myself, but they all laughed at me, making fun of how dirty my clothes were and how I didn't belong. They ran away before I could even get in my first word. I never went back. I wanted to prove to them that I didn't need their fancy training methods to become a knight. But then I started going with my dad to his job and I fell in love with his work even more. I guess I kinda gave up on that old pipe dream."

Something settles in the pits of Jeno's stomach that makes him feel uneasy. The story feels familiar to him, though he doesn't quite know why. It isn't until you turn your face directly to him and give him a toothy smile, telling him the past is in the past, that he fully registers what's bothering him.

You don't know it, but Jeno was apart of that story. He was one of those kids you saw, one of the kids that you showed your smile to, eyes unwavering in their innocence and kindness. He didn't say anything mean to you, yet he did nothing to stand up for you either. He thought nothing of it at the time, truly believing his friends when they told him a dirty kid like you would probably be carrying several diseases and that you should just be avoided. When Jeno tells you all of this, your reaction definitely is not what he was expecting. Your pearly white grin morphs into a gentle smile, and your eyes are holding the same innocence and indiscriminate kindness that they did years ago.

"At least you're making an effort now," you offer, though it doesn't do much to help the guilt making it's home in his heart. "If you really want to make it up to me, you can do the detailing on the sword I'm making for Jaemin. Everyone knows you're good at it."

"It's a deal," Jeno says as he shakes your hand, not missing the little spark that makes its way through his arm when you first make contact or how he can still feel it even when he goes home for the day.

Jeno's mother sends him out to the market to get some ingredients to make a dessert for his father's upcoming birthday. He arrives at a farmer's stall, eyes raking through his list to see what ingredients he can cross off. After the farmer hands him some eggs, milk, and flour, Jeno hands over the necessary amount of money. He's pocketing the leftover change when something, or rather someone, catches his attention.

"Jeno," you call out, arm raised above your head, waving back and forth. As you jog towards him, Jeno's eyes draw together in confusion.

"Are you talking to me- Oh! It's you, Y/n. I don't know why I didn't recognize you."

Jeno does know why he doesn't recognize you. Your hair is down and thoroughly brushed through, soft locks tickling the skin of your neck. You're free of the smears of charcoal that usually taint your face. The starkest difference, however, is your choice of clothes. Instead your usual work trousers, you're adorned in a soft cream-colored dress, delicate ruffles capping off puffy sleeves. You look like you've had years of worry shaved off of you, smile light and carefree. More so, you look like an angel, the sun's rays surrounding your frame like a large halo. When you reach him, you're only slightly out of breath, a blinding smile gracing your soft lips. Jeno feels tongue-tied; he knows you're the same person you've always been but it's like he's seeing a new part of you.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," you say, tucking a couple of loose strands behind your ear.

You look a bit uncomfortable, out of place, hiding your dress behind the large bag of vegetables that you're holding.

"It's fine, I was just distracted. Are you done shopping?"

"No, I actually have to get a couple of fruits as well. You're welcome to join me."

Jeno agrees, of course, and offers to carry your bag. It's a cute gesture, really, but you can't help but giggle as he lets out a grunt, arm shaking under the weight of it. You tell him you're fine, taking back the bag with ease. You pull him along to another stand that sells fresh fruits, grabbing some strawberries, cherries, and peaches. As the afternoon sun bears down on you, Jeno offers to walk you home, an offer which you accept after a bit of convincing.

"Let's take a little break," you say, setting down your bag on a grassy hill and flopping down to sit with your legs crossed. You dig around in your bag and bring out a bunch of cherries, pulling one off of its stem and popping it in your mouth. You hand a couple to Jeno as well, the two of you enjoying the sweet, yet tangy fruit. While you enjoy the change of pace, a meek voice pierces through the peaceful silence.

"Excuse me," says a small child, "may I have something to eat? I haven't had anything in days."

The child is skinny to the point where you're wondering how he is standing up on his own, bones prominent against his thin and dull skin. Of course, you oblige, not only handing over a cherry, but the whole bunch.

"Come and sit," you say gently, not wanting to scare the poor child away. You hand him your canteen and he takes a big swig, several drops dribbling down his jaw. Wiping away at his chin with the fabric of your sleeve, you tell the child to take it easy. Your eyes are soft as you speak, hand gently rubbing at his back.

It's a day full of new experiences for Jeno as he looks at the scene unfurling before him. He likes this side of you, the one that doesn't seem to have such a tough exterior. He can't deny how his insides melt a little when the sickly child falls asleep on your lap and you carefully card your fingers through his thin and tangled hair.

"It's nice seeing you like this, you know," he tells you. "You look so carefree and feminine that I almost forgot you're a total god when it comes to swordsmanship."

"Hey," you reprimand, "you can be feminine and be great with a sword."

Jeno puts his hands up in defeat, but the point he made still hangs in the air, causing you to let out a soft sigh.

"Not everyone is as nice as you, Jeno. You know I've been through some things and I don't think I've seen enough to prove that my views on people of the other class are untrue."

Your voice is laced with sadness as if you wish you could say otherwise, and looking down upon your watery eyes that reflect the setting sun, Jeno vows to right all the wrongs that have happened to you.

Images of you fill his mind, those of you in the forge, the orange coals casting a soft glow upon your features; visions of you training with him, wiping the sweat from your brow; and pictures of you and your carefree smile under the afternoon sun. They're all he can think of as he shuts the door to his house behind him.

"Had a nice day, sweetheart?"

Jeno's eyes flicker up to see his mother looking at him with an accusatory gaze. Her eyes are narrow and her thin arms are crossed across her chest, weight shifting to one leg.

"Y-Yeah," he replies. "Why do you ask?"

"A little bird told me you're spending even more time with that commoner girl. You know that's not good for you or our image, Jeno. We're people of nobility; we can't be seen with just anyone. First, you choose to go to that silly old forge and waste your time away, and now, this?"

"Mother, you know that blacksmithing is my passion, my dream. And there's nothing wrong with that girl. She has a name."

"You're getting attached, Jeno," comes his mother's mocking sing-song voice, clearly not taking his argument seriously. "You already know that Yoona is the girl for you, so I suggest you stay away from that… peasant girl from now on."

Jeno is far beyond angry at this point. Hot air blows out of his nose as his figure practically shakes. First, his family disrespects the dream he finally worked up the courage to pursue, and now they're judging you without even knowing you. He doesn't know how he never noticed how biased his family and friends can be.

"If this is how it's going to be, I can't say I'd be okay aligning myself with this family," Jeno declares.

Jeno's mother huffs indignantly, asking, "What will you do without us, Jeno? We're all you've ever had."

Before storming upstairs to stuff some clothes into a bag, Jeno makes sure to enunciate the fact that he has a whole different family, one that actually cares for him and his dreams, waiting for him back at the forge. He slams the front door behind him and walks toward the familiar building, his bag of clothes feeling extra heavy as if being weighed down by the consequences of his decision. He probably should've thought it through and planned ahead of time, now not knowing where to go. However, luck seems to be in his favor because there is a source of light in the forge, signaling someone is still working.

Jeno breathes a sigh of relief as soon as he pushes open the door to the forge and sees that Jinyoung is hard at work, flattening out an iron rod. The aforementioned man looks up, confusion filling his eyes as he notices the figure in the doorway.

"Jeno? What are you doing here?"

The young man scratches his chin as he replies, "I was planning on crashing here for the night. And basically from now until forever."

Jinyoung immediately sets down his tools, walking over and asking if everything is okay. He nods understandingly when told that Jeno basically ran away from home.

"Jeno, you can totally stay with me and my brother. We have a spare room in our house."

"Are you serious?"

Jeno wraps his arms around his friend, relief settling into his bones. It finally feels like he can breathe freely again and he can't express his gratitude enough. He's still thanking Jinyoung even as the two close up shop and head home for the night, no matter how many times the older boy reassures him that it's what anyone in the forge would do.

Jeno doesn't tell you about his situation, mainly because your relationship is running so much smoother these days. Your interactions are full of smiles and secret glances at each other across the flames of the forge. The strange faerie you met earlier, Renjun, managed to get his hands one the precious metal he was speaking of and you've started working on it, the material proving to be just as durable as claimed. Overall, everything is going really well.

It's one of those days that you and Jeno meet up in your secret spot in the forest. Lately, Jeno has started sparring against you, skills rapidly developing. You two are moving so fast and so fluid that it's almost like a dance, tiny sparks flying off every time your two swords clash. This time, you're about to go in for the kill (not literally, of course) when your foot gets caught on the root of a tree and you stumble backward into its trunk. Jeno takes advantage of this opportunity and holds his sword up, level with your throat. Slowly, he brings the sword back to his side and forms a cage around you with his body. There's a thick tension in the air as he approaches, eyes never leaving your own. Drawing even closer until he's mere inches away from your face, the young man feels the rough skin of your worn hands come up to caress his face. His eyes flicker over, smiling gently as he feels the hairs on his arms raise from the feeling of this much awaited skin contact.

You have other ideas in mind, hand suddenly wrapping around the back of his neck and pulling him into a chokehold. Your partner soon gives up, raising his arms up in surrender. You smirk as you let him go and lean back against the tree again.

"Never let your guard down," you remind Jeno. "I believe that was lesson number four or five."

Jeno rolls his eyes at your feigned cocky attitude, watching as you release on of your now trademarked carefree laughs. Seeing an opening, he takes a chance. Placing a hand on your waist, he pulls you flush against himself. Your breath is stolen as you place both of your hands on his chest. You can't help but let your hands wander across his now hardened physique. It's as if he's bulked up in the blink of an eye, chiseled abdomen making itself known against your own. This time, it's you who can't seem to look elsewhere as you swallow thickly.

"Jeno, are you sure about-"

The man before you makes the final move, hand snaking around to the small of your back to give you a gentle push closer, if you could even get any closer at this point. Your lips meet at the middle, soft pillows interlocking perfectly as if made for each other. The sun's rays are nothing compared to the heat of Jeno's hand as it finds a place along your jaw. You feel a tug of something in the base of your stomach as Jeno brings your lower lip between his teeth. You know that if you don't stop here, you could get too carried away, so you push him away, lips parting and foreheads now coming to rest against each other. Your breaths mingle in the little space between you as your chest heaves, partially because you're out of breath and partially because you feel as if your whole body is on fire and your heart has been stolen. You give Jeno one last peck at the corner of his mouth before fully backing away. Picking up your stuff, you adjust the strap of your satchel on your shoulder.

"I should go. I'll see you at the forge, Jeno."

You disappear into the thick maze of trees, but not before shooting one last dazzling smile his way over your shoulder.

"Y/n, you have a visitor," comes the voice of Johnny as he walks in, clocking in for the day.

You place your tools down and dust your hands against each other, rubbing them against your apron as an extra precaution. You take off the goggles that are wound around your head, blowing strands of hair out of your hair. Taking your hair out of its ponytail, you brush through the strands with your fingers before deeming yourself presentable enough. Usually you wouldn't mind so much about your appearance, but since you're at work, you never know if it'll be a friend or a potential customer. However, you're surprised when you step outside and find that neither is waiting to greet you.

"Y/n, right? I'm sorry to pull you away from your work, but there is something really important that I must talk to you about."

You can tell from the tone that the woman standing before you isn't the least bit sorry. However, you let her continue, not really bothered enough to interrupt.

"I don't know if you remember, but we met at the market once. I'm Yoona, Jeno's childhood friend and former betrothed."

"Former?"

"Oh, Jeno didn't tell you? He ran away from home just so that he could be with you. It's actually what I came to talk to you about. It's probably not your intention, but you've become quite a toxic person for Jeno to be around. Not only are you negatively affecting his life, but the lives of his family and dear friends."

"I- I didn't know. He didn't tell me."

"Yes, because he wants to live out this little fairytale that's in his head. But you and I know what's really the best for him. He needs to be with his family, not with some poor strangers that were forced to take him in."

You try to argue that Jeno would never be the type to purposefully be an inconvenience, especially to strangers. However, Yoona doesn't let up for a second.

"It's up to you, really," she says. "Do you want to be the girl who comes between Jeno and his family? And all for what? Some crush that you have on him that'll never be reciprocated?"

Yoona spins on her heels, hair whipping behind her and creating a sharp breeze that blows toward your face and causes you to flinch. You watch as she walks away, gait slow and delicate. Sighing to yourself, you realize that is the type of girl that's meant for Jeno, not someone like you. You do care about him, more than you've probably cared for anyone other than Jaemin and your father, but this means that you won't hesitate to do what's best for him. This is why when you walk back into the forge, your head remains low and your expression is stone cold, no form of sadness peeking through. You look down at the sword resting on your anvil, blade and grip already complete. All that's left is the detailing of the rain-guard, but that's where your problem lies: Jeno is supposed to do the detailing. Taking a deep breath, you pick up the sword and bring it over to Johnny, ignoring the blatant way Jeno's eyes follow your figure.

"Hey, Johnny," you start. "Do you think you can do this detailing for me?"

Johnny's eyes raise in surprise and you don't miss the way his eyes flit over to Jeno for a second before replying, "Are you sure? I have a bit more experience than you, but you know I've never been good with a chisel."

"Yeah, I'm sure. Anything's better than the sloppy job I'd do."

You hear the sound of a tool clattering on the floor and you know that it's Jeno who's dropped whatever he's been working with, but you choose to ignore it.

Jeno's eyes still haven’t left your figure since the moment you walked back into the forge, and he's plagued with confusion. Just the day before, you were taking a walk, hand in hand, stealing kisses on the cheek, forehead, and nose. And now? You're acting like he doesn't even exist. The change is too stark and he knows he has to figure out the cause, but for not, he walks over to Johnny, offering the older man to do the detailing instead. Johnny gratefully accepts, handing over the sword and agreeing not to tell you about it. As he aligns his chisel with the tip of the hilt, an idea forms in his head. He has an inkling of who could be behind your sudden behavior change and resolves to ask about it when he clocks out for the day.

"Mother, Father," Jeno calls out, voice echoing in the silence of his home. He hears soft footsteps and not long after, he sees his parents' figures descending down the main staircase.

"Jeno," the young man's mother all but squeals as she rushes up to him and wraps him in a tight hug. He has to admit that he's missed seeing his family, but there are more important things to be said.

"I have something to ask you… Did you say something to Y/n? I know you don't approve of her but you have no right interfering in our relationship. And even though she may not have had an official education, she's just as knowledgeable and eloquent, if not more, than any of my friends."

Jeno's parents shuffle uncomfortably for a moment before his father clears his throat and speaks up, "We know, son. And we're truly sorry for that. We see now how committed to your dream you are and we think that girl has actually had a positive influence on you. You used to never stand up for yourself. I really don't know why she would be acting that way."

It feels as if the weight of the world has been lifted from Jeno's shoulders. Sure, he would stay with you with or without his parents' consent, but now he can pursue a relationship with you and have complete confidence. Now, the only problem is finding out who or what could've changed your mind. His mind plays his memories with you back as if he's reading one of the story books he read as a child. One day seems to stick out in particular. It's the day you two first met. More specifically, when you visited the market. He remembers feeling insecure and shy around Yonghee. Then right after, he remembers Yoona rushing up to him, latching onto his side and making her presence known to you.

"That's it," he whispers, causing his parents to look at him weirdly. "It's Yoona. I can't believe I hadn't figured this out sooner. I know I just got here, but I have to go. I'm sorry."

Jeno's parents give him encouraging smiles as they see him off, mother stating, "It's okay, dear. We know this is something you have to do.”

It's not a long trip to Yoona's house, probably a five minute run at most, and as soon as he reaches the doorstep, he's practically banging against the door. His heart rate quickens as the door opens, but it's not who he's hoping for.

"Jeno, what's up? You look totally different from the last time I saw you."

"Not now, Yonghee. Where's Yoona?"

"I-In the kitchen. Why-"

Jeno doesn't give Yonghee the opportunity to speak, dashing towards the room where he knows the cause of all of his problems is residing. He runs up to Yoona and demands to know what she's said to you, restraining himself from physically shaking the answer out of her. Yoona's eyes dart around nervously as she tries to avoid his question

"I don't know what you're talking about, Jeno."

"Yes, you do. Why else would she completely ignore me like she's doing right now?

It takes a couple of tries, but Jeno manages to get some sort of an answer when Yoona reveals, "Ok, fine. I may or may not have told her about how you moved out and how it was all her fault."

"Yoona, I know we've been friends since we were four, but that doesn't excuse this. You had no right to interrupt like you did."

"I know. God, I know that now. You'll never love me like that and I see that now. Can I ever make it up to you?"

"I don't know if I'll ever completely forgive you, but if there's one thing you could do, it would be apologizing to Y/n."

With that, Jeno turns and retraces his steps back to the forge. Each step he takes makes him feel light and heavy at the same time, and he doesn't know why. It's like some invisible force is holding his heart in hand, ready to crush it into pieces if all goes downhill. At this point, all he can do is hope and pray that his chances at a real relationship with you haven't been completely ruined.

Jeno tries not to picture what his life would be like without you in it as the forge draws closer and closer. Pushing open the door, he's greeted with utter silence, realizing that the light he saw from outside was just a candle that someone forgot to extinguish. He curses aloud, shutting the door and pacing around, trying to remember the way to your house from one time when he walked you home. He has a vague idea of where to start, taking a narrow road to a residential area not too far away. However, the darkness of the night sky and lack of lighting along the rough pathways does nothing to aid him. He ends up taking a wrong turn somewhere along the way and is now lost among the many small houses lined up side by side. And just to make things worse, he feels a few droplets fall from the sky and splatter against his face.

By the time Jeno finds your house, a small one-story building tucked away in a maze of flowers and shrubbery, he's soaked to the bone, the loose white cotton shirt put on in the morning now sticking to him like a second skin. He knocks on your door once, twice, and then thrice, hoping you can hear him over the sounds of the storm that's brewing.

It takes a couple moments, but you do eventually pry open the door slightly, your face poking out and tiredness pulling your eyelids down. Bringing a palm up to rub at your eyes, you blink a couple times, finally acknowledging the person on the other side of the door.

"Jeno? Oh my god, what are you doing out there? You're going to catch a cold."

You swing the front door open wider, free hand reaching out to grasp his arm and pull him inside, all the while trying your best not to ogle at his clearly visible figure. Asking the drenched boy to stand in one place, you rush to your bathroom and grab a dry towel. You don't realize it but as you wrap the towel around Jeno, you're also pulling him closer to you, and it only really hits you when the two of you are almost standing toe to toe, his shaky breath fanning out across your face. Clearing your throat, you take a step back and leave him to dry himself. In the meantime, you warm up some milk for the two of you.

When Jeno is mostly dried down, you request for him to take a seat at the couch in your living room. You hand him the glass of warm milk, noticing how his hands are still shaking, and decide to light up your fireplace. Dusting off your hands and turning to face the man on your couch, you start to think maybe it wasn't the best idea, because the way the glow of the fireplace bounces off Jeno's skin already has your heart going a mile a minute. You settle for sitting on a chair across from him and looking down as if the milk in your glass is the most interesting thing you've ever seen. Eventually, you feel as though you have to say something, the silence seeping into your skin and creating a ball of anxiety that weighs down your heart.

"Why did you come here, Jeno?"

The man looks up at you, eyes full of sorrow, guilt, and something else as he formulates his response.

"Why have you been avoiding me?"

"I haven't been-"

"Yes, you have. You asked Johnny to help with your sword even though it's something we promised we'd do together."

You swallow thickly, knowing that you've been caught, and admit, "Ok, so I did try to distance myself a bit, but I just felt like we were moving too fast."

Jeno sighs deeply, frustration turning his knuckles white as he grips his mug tightly and says, "You're lying again, Y/n."

The way Jeno can see through you so well leaves you feeling overexposed, but somewhere deep inside, there's a part of you that appreciates it. He's looking at you as if you're the only thing that's ever existed and you've never felt so bare and content at the same time.

"It wasn't a complete lie, though," you say, tone slightly defensive. "You have so much going for you. You come from a wealthy family and you have good friends, and Yoona is head over heels for you. You could have so much. I just don't think you should be wasting all of your potential on me."

"None of that matters if I don't have you with me. Yes, my family is rich, but do you really think I care about that kind of stuff when I gave it all up to come work at the forge?"

"Well, I…"

"And do you think I'd be here right now, doing my best to fight for you, if I thought I could live a life with Yoona? Y/n, you're the only one I could see myself with; you're the only one that will ever make me feel complete."

"But your parents, Jeno. They'd never approve."

"I talked to them. Sure, they think still Yoona is my match, but they're willing to accept you. And so what if they weren't? It's my life and I'd be willing to give up all of it for you."

He stands up, placing his mug on the little table between you and walking around it to stand before you. He reaches into the pocket of his trousers to pull something out, but it slips through his grasp, falling somewhere on the hard stone floor with a soft clink. It takes a minute but Jeno is able to find it, fingertips grazing across a familiar cold metal underneath the chair you're sitting on. He takes the object between his fingers and offers it to you.

The scene before you is something you'd never think would happen. Jeno is on one knee and in his hand is a small metal object, a ring that you can tell is handmade. It's not a perfect circle, not even close, and you can tell it was rushed by the lumps on the surface, but the mere sight of it has you flustered beyond belief

"Jeno, I hope that's not what I think it is. Never mind the fact that society wouldn't approve; we're not even twenty yet!"

It takes a moment for the man to realize the position he's in, but when it clicks, he jumps to his feet, startling you a bit. He takes your smaller hand in his, holding it as if it's a delicate flower, and looks deeply into your eyes.

"It's a promise ring I meant to give you. It means I'll always care for you, support you, and love you until the day that I die. I hope this proves how much you mean to me."

With that, Jeno slides the ring onto its designated finger. And in this moment, it's like you can see into each other's hearts and souls. In this moment, no one else exists and nothing else matters. Jeno thinks the smile that finally breaks your tense visage is bright enough to illuminate the whole world, if not the whole universe.

You jump up to your feet and wrap your arms around the man, your man, placing a kiss on his chapped and cracked lips. The feeling of your lips locking perfectly together assures you that this is how it's meant to be and you should've never tried to settle for anything less. The kiss is sweet and innocent and pure and you want to stay like this forever. Unfortunately, you both run out of air and pull away, though your hand is still tangled in the hairs on the back of his head and his palm is planted firmly on your waist.

"I love you too," you breathe out, reciprocating what he had said earlier.

Jaemin holds up a finished sword, the product of yours and Jeno's hard work, twisting his wrist to inspect the blade from all angles. The sun’s rays make it glow as if it’s molten silver, causing your friend to nod in approval. He makes a few slashes at the air, but they're sloppy and slow as the sorcerer has never been the fighting type.

"It's perfect, Y/n," he tells you with his pearly white smile.

You can't take all the credit though, elbowing Jeno in his side as you declare, "Jeno did a good amount of work on it too."

Jeno snaps out of whatever daze he's in and shyly rubs a hand against his neck, claiming he really didn't do much. Even still, you decide to split the reward evenly between the two of you. You think it's only fair since what's yours is his and what's his is yours.

Jaemin snaps his fingers as he reminds you, "Hey, you never did tell me its name."

You and Jeno look at each other, smiles coming to your faces knowing you'd actually discussed this topic just the night before.

"Excalibur," you declare proudly.

And Jeno finishes off, "The sword that cuts through steel."

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tocxmply · 4 years

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ATTENTION, AWARENESS, AND LEARNING [sources: click, click, click, click, click]

the original plan was to have this as the initial section of my meta about Bucky’s memory (what he remembers vs. what he forgot, essentially) but: 1) i realized that was going to be a massive thing and splitting it might be in my best interest, and 2) memory does not exist without learning and learning does not exist without attention so, really, exploring each step individually might not be a bad idea after all. other than the linked sources, this meta will also build on what i have already discussed regarding the process of brainwashing that underlies the functioning of the Winter Soldier: here. on the other hand, whereas the topic of this meta is not memory, all of these cognitive processes are deeply enmeshed and therefore do not exist as categorically separated as this text may make them look like — these are conceptual separations only (despite the little fancy numbered topics, i end up talking of attention + learning + memory all at the same time), and a degree of overlap will always exist.

1. ATTENTION starting with the concept that we cannot learn about what we do not pay attention to, then it makes all the sense to ask: what does the Winter Soldier pay attention to? and the answer is: to whatever HYDRA commands him to. the hypnosis protocols (explored in the brainwashing meta) have the purpose, exactly, to fixate his attention on fulfilling the mission goal(s), whatever they may be, at expense of everything else — which, in turn, means that if, he’s not paying attention to, say, his surroundings and the people who are with him, he won’t be able to learn about, and posteriorly remember, this sort of details.

this brings me to the “i remember all of them” line in “Captain America: Civil War” — which Sebastian Stan himself has already stated was something Bucky said in the spur of the moment, something that Tony wanted to hear while having him literally in a choke-hold. no, he doesn’t remember all of them, much as this is a heartbreaking line with big cinematic impact. i personally headcanon that Bucky remembers Howard Stark, based on the fact that this is someone he met and got to know in the 40s — which is information that comes from the long-term memory, not equally affected by the mind wiping + cryostasis as short-term memory (which i shall explore in more detail in the future memory meta). even so, it’s not clear recollection — more like remembering what that particular mission was about, and remembering faces that, back then, the Soldier could not recognize but that, in retrospect, he’s able to make sense of. i also headcanon that a similar logic applies to the mission referenced in “Captain America: The Winter Soldier”, where Natasha talks of how he shot the man she was guarding through her, and it applies as well to the highway scene in the same movie. for these three missions, long-term knowledge and/or an intense emotional tone allowed for the Soldier’s attention to be highly focused on Howard/ Natasha/ Steve respectively, spanning beyond what the hypnosis protocol dictates. nonetheless, memories of these missions are fragmented and he remembers the associated emotions that these three persons evoked, more than any coherent dialogue or details of that moment.

in regard to the other targets/ missions, Bucky remembers conceptual information essentially (e.g., the target’s name, what day it was, what the mission briefing required him to do), considering that these targets held no previous meaning to him. because these conceptual details were what his attention was focused on. so, for example, he may be able to remember who was the target assassinated on a specific day and in which way this was done, but he won’t be able to remember what the person was wearing or what their face looked like or who were the handlers for that mission. not only he didn’t pay attention to these details but they would have been wiped in post-mission, anyway. the only memory traces that stay are those which already existed and those that HYDRA allowed him to effectively learn — and these, again, are reduced to information that was necessary for carrying out the mission successfully.

what consequences does all of this have, once Bucky breaks free from HYDRA? first, what he was allowed to pay attention to is what he is now able to remember, as discussed. and then, it means that his attention span undergoes a big change as soon as it’s “free”, so to speak. now he doesn’t have anyone dictating what to pay attention to — and, whereas this is a good thing, it also implies that the world is suddenly perceived as chaotic. because now he’s suddenly aware of everything that the Soldier never noticed — he perceives faces and colors and shapes and sensations and all else, and this can easily get overwhelming (even the good things).

again, i will complement/ explore this better in the memory meta, but this is why, in post-HYDRA, Bucky struggles with actions that require short-term and working memory — not only because these brain areas were affected by the wiping, but because his span of attention itself is all over the place. not in the sense of attention deficit disorder, per se, but because there is so much stimulation happening at the same time that he isn’t used at all to be aware of (and now add to this the fact that he is also a man out of his time, as much as Steve, and there is so much to learn anew in this modern world). depending on his general state of mind, his coping may vary from dissociation (just downright shut down everything because he currently has no mental energy to process any of it, so he withdraws instead) to actively trying to process the information he’s being given (and try to understand and make sense of it, and currently being mentally stable enough to pay attention and learn and keep up with all of it).

nonetheless, this process will frequently be a bumpy one. for example, he will try to pay attention to everything and, in the end, retain none of it exactly because he was so scattered, or he will (consciously or not) direct his attention to one thing only and everything else that is going on will go completely over his head. with this said, and roleplay-wise, you should expect things like your muse having to repeat something before he actually gets it and commits it to memory, or that he won’t be able to follow what your muse is talking about if there is a lot being conveyed in a short period of time (because, by the time your muse finishes, he’s already forgotten what was said at the start, or, instead, he focused on what was said first and didn’t follow anything else), or that your muse expects him to be paying attention but in the meantime something else captured his interest and, by the time your muse realizes, Bucky has gone over to the other side of the street to pet this cute cat while leaving your muse talking alone. exceptions to this are situations that are an actual mission or resembling of it, aka situations with a very well defined goal and where he has very clear instructions to adhere to — exactly because this is what he was trained, for 70 years, to focus on and pay attention to.

2. AWARENESS again. awareness and attention are two conceptually different things — but with a great degree of overlapping and interdependence. awareness, in particular, refers to directly knowing and perceiving, feeling or being cognizant of events. it’s the state of being conscious of something. so… is it possible to pay attention without being aware? technically yes, and i see this as a particularity of the Winter Soldier, actually. because if you ask him, during a mission: what is your target doing right now? — he knows, he’ll tell you, because he is paying attention to said target. but is he aware of what he’s doing, as in, does he realize he’s about to kill a human being and what this implies at every level? he isn’t. he’s doing it because he was commanded to do it, and weapons don’t question the hand that pulls the trigger. this is possibly the most drastic change that happens in post-HYDRA, because he finally becomes aware — finally regains a sense of being conscious of his actions (and shoutout to Sebastian’s terrific acting at the end of that helicarrier scene in CA:TWS, because with his eyes only he can so clearly depict this change — this moment when the Soldier becomes aware of what he is doing to Steve). and let me redirect to another of my previous metas, re: the dehumanization of the Winter Soldier, because this shift in awareness relies entirely on the human being vs. weapon/asset mindsets: here.

in post-HYDRA, then, this comes laced with everything i already discussed about attention. the increased capacity to pay attention to the world, once the hypnosis protocol is discontinued, comes hand-in-hand with this rise in awareness — paying attention to the sunlight like you never did before, and being aware that sunlight feels warm on your skin and being aware that, in turn, this is a pleasant sensation. unlike attention, however, gaining awareness brings Bucky a whole lot more demons to deal with — because it makes him conscious of what the Soldier has done and what it implies and, at the same time, it makes him conscious of what was done to him — and this dichotomy fuels a very toxic, very difficult to undo, cycle of guilt/shame vs. paranoia. on the other hand, whereas i don’t want to go into much detail about empathy right now, this also allows him to grow very compassionate and very mindful of his actions — because he knows what the Soldier is capable of, and because he never wants any of it to happen again as far as he can help it. which is why, for example, in my writing post- CA:TWS, a pervasive theme is that Bucky is way more scared of the harm that he can potentially do to others than what can be done to him.

and a smol extra note, once more based on Seb’s acting because this man’s body language is a heavens-sent: despite everything stated above, i don’t personally believe that the Winter Soldier is completely unaware of what he’s doing. this is speculative, obviously, and no more than my own headcanon, but i really don’t think he is. he’s trained to not question it, and most of the time he doesn’t actively question it (possibly, the only time this happens is the whole “the man on the bridge” moment), but he’s not completely ruthless either — on the contrary. the highway scene in CA:TWS is a perfect example, because we can see how uncaring he is re: his own well-being (hopping off the rail like he does and landing on that car like a ton of bricks, with zero care for his own body), but we don’t see him shooting/massacring any civilians even though he so easily could. he’s solely focused on Black Widow at that point and, yes, this is likely because it’s what the hypnosis protocol dictates his attention be given to, but i personally believe it also comes out of an unconscious desire to do no harm — that belongs not to the Soldier, but to James Buchanan Barnes. one more topic for a future meta!

3. LEARNING so… i actually feel like there isn’t much left to say about this topic in particular, given how i have already been tapping at it during the two previous ones. the Winter Soldier’s learning relies on two big strategies: classical/ Pavlovian conditioning and operant conditioning (both of which i have explored in the brainwashing meta). and a whole lot of repetition, till he learns what HYDRA wants him to learn — and anything else he casually/ autonomously learns and that is considered unnecessary is taken care of via mind wiping. the biggest implication of this is that, in post-HYDRA, Bucky is a bit like a child learning about the world for the first time. not only he’s in a modern world where so much is new and he doesn’t know about it, but his learning process relies basically only in association of stimuli + punishment or reinforcement. in post-HYDRA, he starts doing trial-and-error in an autonomous manner, he starts doing vicarious learning (i.e., learning through observing other people), he starts learning things by accident in the sense that he wasn’t even trying to but it happened anyway, he starts learning by imitating and doing what others do.

which brings me to another roleplay thing, and one that i often joke about but that, in fact, happens for real — the fact that all this makes Bucky rather gullible. for example, he will see some modern contraption that he never got to see/use before and he logically won’t have a clue about it, and he will likely believe what he’s told about it — because he has no other reference, because he trusts the person who’s telling him this, because this is how he’s learned things for the past decades. he’s used to being taught, more than to learn on his own, and he’s used to the things he’s taught being the only truth that matters, in typical HYDRA fashion. the difference is that he now is aware of what he’s being told, so if you tell him “go and assassinate the prime-minister” he will obviously know what this is about and why this isn’t a good idea, to say it mildly. also, this doesn’t make him completely oblivious, in the sense of believing everything he’s told blindly and without a sense of criticism — because, yes, he’s got a shitty memory but he can sill use logic and rationality — so if you tell him to cook a sundae in the microwaves he’ll tell you to go screw yourself, because sundae is ice cream and ice cream melts. on the other hand, popular references are the thing that confuse him the most and that are hardest to learn, exactly because they don’t carry this inherent sense of concrete logic — so if you tell him that YEET! is the new way to say good morning nowadays, chances are he’ll start telling it to everyone from there on until he’s taught properly about it.

to conclude, i just wanna mention yet again the connection with attention — because the limitations i have already discussed obviously have an impact on Bucky’s capacity to learn, in post-HYDRA. generally speaking, this capacity is reduced when compared to the Soldier — not only due to brain damage, but also because the Soldier was exceptionally prepared, through hypnosis, to learn any minimal details deemed necessary (for example, this is how he learned the 16 new languages that add to English and German that he already knew --- this specific headcanon: here). so, it’s not like he now sucks at learning, rather it was the Soldier that was (forced to be) way above the standard level. now in normal conditions, this capacity is more scattered and it fluctuates along with his span of attention — which, in turn, fluctuates along with his mental health status. but he is a curious person and he wants to improve and to learn more, either on his own or with help, and this intrinsic motivation is very important when it comes to adapting to a new life/new world.

#long post #「ᵐᵉᵗᵃ」ʷᶤᵖᵉ ʰᶤᵐ ᵃᶰᵈ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗ ᵒᵛᵉʳ

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xiaq · 5 years

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Q&A:

Hello! Sorry for the belated question-answering. My concussion symptoms got a lot worse for a hot second, but I’m feeling better now and ready to tackle my inbox. So I have over 30 academic-related questions and they mostly fall into these groups:

Can I read your dissertation/are you going to publish it?

Yes! And hopefully. The plan is to publish it as a book once it is complete, but even if that doesn’t happen I’ll share it (maybe even on AO3) with anyone who wants to read it.

What is your dissertation about?

That is a dangerous question. The shortest possible answer: my dissertation is essentially an ethnographic study of the interconnected online platforms that facilitate transformative digital fan culture and the people that use them. I consider fic literature and fic archives repositories for both this textual literature but also the metatextual and paratextual elements of fan culture. My focus is on the AO3 as a groundbreaking archive that has changed how transformative fandom operates, is treated legally, and is viewed publicly.

How are you getting a PhD in fandom? Is that a thing? Did you take classes for it?

Fandom studies is a thing! When you get an English PhD you specialize in certain things, and fandom studies is one of my specialties. Alas, I did not take classes in it, though I did do a significant amount of directed reading on my own/in preparation for exams. PhD coursework prepares you for the broad range of English classes you may be called upon to teach as a professor. So I took multiple courses in my primary fields (see below) but only took classes for my first two subfields. I also took Victorian lit, British lit, American lit, etc.

What did you take your quals in?

Primary Fields: (these are things that make colleges want to hire you)

Book history/archival (focus movement from print-digital)

Feminist/queer theory

20/21st century lit

Subfields: (these are the things that you think are neat if not included in the things that will make colleges want to hire you)

disability studies

minority literature

comics studies

fandom studies

Where do you go to school?

SMU. In Dallas. We have great libraries and lots of white people who wear Vinyard Vines apparel.

You’re the xiaq that wrote LRPD/AHTU/Strut! Are you going to talk about your own fic in your dissertation? Yes. And yes! I’ll speak as a 3rd party academic observer in chapter 1-3 and 5, but chapter 4 will be a case study/interlude where I speak in depth about my experience writing and posting LRPD (https://archiveofourown.org/works/11304786?view_full_work=true). I’m doing this for 2 reasons: 1. The project asserts that there is nothing shameful about participating in fandom and fan works/archives ought to be shown respect and appreciation. I want both fandom folks and academic folks to know that I’m “all in” as it were. 2. When I sat down with my chair to plan my case study chapter, we decided I needed a “top-ranked” work within any moderate to large fandom with over 50,000 hits and over 5,000 comments, and I needed to ask the author detailed questions about their writing, editing, posting, sharing, and comment-answering/interactive habits. LRPD fits that criteria and I don’t have to ask anyone else invasive questions.

Who all have you interviewed?

Cesperanza/Astolat and a couple other AO3 founding folks. Several people currently volunteering for the OTW, one of the volunteer coordinators, communications staff, and a LOT of fan writers (over 50 at this point)—including BNFs like Kryptaria, Earlgreytea68, Emmagrant01 and (much) more. And then a bunch of academic folks too—Karen Hellekson, Abigail De Kosnik, Francesca Coppa, Rukmini Pande, Suzanne Scott (who is on my committee as an outside reader!) and more. Every single person I’ve spoken to was very kind and generous with their time and I love everyone in this bar.

And these were three specific questions that didn’t fall into those categories:

You look so young—is that just good genetics or did you skip a few grades?

Thank you! Well. I skipped getting my masters. Sort of. Most PhD programs require an undergraduate and a masters degree before you can apply. SMU is one of the few that does not and has an extended program that essentially gives folks straight from undergrad extra intensive coursework and a masters upon completion of 2 yrs in the program. It’s difficult to get accepted without a masters, so consider me an outlier and not the standard. I’m also on course to (hopefully) graduate a year early—which means I’ll have my doctorate before I turn 30! You too can be an overachiever with the help of OCD, anxiety, and sleep deprivation (not an endorsement, tho).

what does otw mean in your ao3 post about academics being assholes

Organization for Transformative Works! The OTW formed before the AO3 did. You can read more about it here: https://fanlore.org/wiki/Organization_for_Transformative_Works

Concerning your post on AO3 and the pettiness of academics - you mentioned the real, serious negative issues concerning AO3. Might you expand more on that? What do you find to be the negative aspects of AO3?

Ah yes. So there is one “big” thing that occasionally came up as a negative in my interviews and research. Fandom has a long and storied history of racism. It’s not isolated to the AO3, but several of the POC I spoke to said they dislike the fact that there’s no way to mark a work as racist, or warn others about it (usually, if an individual points out that, say, an author has treated Finn as a Big Black Dick and not, you know, a human being, the author isn’t particularly interested in noting that their own work is problematic. See also: slave AUs. Where Finn is a slave.Yikes.). While the majority of POC I spoke to didn’t advocate for some sort of censure of these works in the terms of use (some did), what most wanted was a way of being able to warn others, or receive a warning, that a work is racist. Implementing something like that is, obviously, complex (if not impossible) however. Personally? I doubt it will happen. Related, and perhaps more important, when POC tend to speak critically about the erasure or infantilization or animalization of non-white characters, white authors often 1. police tone rather than engage with the criticism, 2. focus more on defending themselves rather than actually examining their, maybe accidental, biases/stereotypes or 3. cry bullying or kinkshaming instead of actually listening to what POC are saying. Again, not an issue isolated to the AO3, but an issue nonetheless that we, as a community, need to recognize (for more on this history, check out, for example, https://fanlore.org/wiki/RaceFail_%2709). There’s also the whole “should illegal sexual things--like underage or pedophilia-- be allowed,” which I don’t have the energy to dissect right now, but the overwhelming majority of folks I spoke to were of the “if you don’t like it, don’t read works with that tag. If it’s not tagged correctly, close the tab” school of thought. The AO3 has always purported itself as a hosting, not a policing, organization, so I doubt that will ever change.

#q&a #answered asks #fandom studies #AO3 #x wants the (ph)d

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geekprincess26 · 5 years

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Smarter Than Ned

I never thought I’d be writing a sequel to my “Smarter Than Robb” meta (here), especially not on the eve of the series finale of “Game of Thrones.” However, that was before “The Bells” (at least in my opinion) broke the show’s streak of so-so to awful episodes that started somewhere in season 7. It made me wonder and marvel and gasp and tear up and, above all, think. So did the many articulate posts my fellow Jonsa fans have made about that episode, and in particular about Jon’s role both in that segment of the show and in the watershed overwhelming Westeros at the moment. As I rewatched the episode and read people’s posts, I began seeing Jon’s actions in a slightly different light. Then I realized how similar they were to Ned Stark’s doomed efforts to keep his family and the Seven Kingdoms safe and stabilized in season 1.

Ah, yes, Ned Stark, the original Northern fool – or, at least, that was how so many people, both on the show and off it, viewed him, much as they later saw his son nephew. And what fools they both were, right? Certainly they were such from a general perspective, but seen from Sansa’s viewpoint, many of those actions attained the very height of idiocy. Let us count the ways, starting with Sansa’s father, Ned Stark:

1. HE LIED TO HIS FAMILY, HIS FRIENDS, AND THE WORLD He brought a Targaryen heir into his home under the nose of a king who had sworn to eradicate all Targaryens from the face of the earth and claimed that the boy was his bastard, without knowing if Jon would grow up to look like his birth father and therefore clue in Robert – and the rest of Westeros – to the truth. He let his own wife think the worst of him, ensuring both a huge strain in their young marriage and her less-than-motherly treatment of poor Jon. What a stubborn, reckless idiot, one could be forgiven for thinking. And what an unnecessary sacrifice of his reputation as a man of honesty and honor, two of the things he valued most.

2. HE DISREGARDED HIS FAMILY’S WARNINGS AND HEADED STRAIGHT INTO A DANGEROUS PLACE Many years later, when Jon Arryn died, Robert Baratheon requested that Ned replace the older man as his Hand. Ned, a devoted family man, did not want to leave his family, and especially not to live in King’s Landing with its politics and backstabbing. And due to his friendship with Robert, he had a good chance to refuse the other man’s offer while keeping his head, family, and honor intact. But Lysa Arryn’s raven arrived at Winterfell with its allegations that the Lannisters had murdered her husband. That gave Ned reason to fear for Robert’s safety, and so he left his family behind him. No one could fault him for his desire to keep Robert on his throne and avoid another succession conflict, which the Seven Kingdoms could ill afford. However, he could have employed any number of better, smarter options to fulfill that desire, right? How about suggesting another Hand, one who could play the Southern political game more effectively? How about sending ravens to other loyal friends of the king, or even meeting with them in person, to gather more information? Maybe then he could have discovered the truth about Jon Arryn’s death before his family antagonized the Lannisters.

3. HE DELIBERATELY SHOWED HIS HAND TO HIS ENEMY – ALL BECAUSE OF HONOR Speaking of the Lannisters, many would argue that Ned reached the height of his Northern naiveté in his dealings with them. After all, what kind of idiot would warn the very enemy he’s about to rat out to the king? We know that Ned did this with noble intentions. He knew what Robert would do to Cersei and the children once he discovered Jaime’s affair with Cersei, and despite his dislike of Cersei, his honor would not allow him to stand by while her children died horrible deaths. Still, if he truly wanted to serve the greater good, could he not have let five lives go for the sake of the greater good? After all, wasn’t the greater good the reason he lied to everyone he knew about Jon, as well as his motivation for leaving his family to serve as Robert’s Hand?

4. HE PLOTTED AGAINST THE “KING” OF WESTEROS WITHOUT SEEKING HELP AND COUNSEL FROM HIS FAMILY AND TRUSTWORTHY FRIENDS Not a good idea, right? Especially when that means the continent’s second succession crisis in two decades and it’s not yet recovered from the first. Ned’s eventual aim was honorable and worthy, which helps to justify his dangerous and dishonorable actions, but he could (and should) have sought the advice and support of his wife, who’s clearly a canny woman with a lot of connections. Moreover, he probably should have at least considered involving Stark or Tully bannermen whom he knew would be loyal to him, rather than counting on Stannis Baratheon and a motley crew from King’s Landing, all of whom had their own agendas.

Speaking of which…

5. HE IGNORED HIS GUT INSTINCTS AND PLACED HIS TRUST IN A DANGEROUS AND DEADLY INDIVIDUAL Littlefinger rubbed Ned the wrong way from the day they met. It took less than one episode after that for Ned to slam the snake against the wall of his own brothel by his neck for his perverted remarks about Catelyn, Ned’s wife. But Catelyn was convinced that Littlefinger would never harm her and therefore would not want to see any harm come to Ned because she loved Ned so much, so Ned ignored his first instincts – and Littlefinger’s own warnings – which told him the man was a snake waiting to strike. Instead, he chose to believe that Littlefinger would see the nobility – or at least the intrigue and the reward – in Ned’s attempts to place the rightful heir on the throne and keep Westeros from being ruled by a beast like Joffrey. But, as Ned found out the hard way, the most sophisticated strategy in the world doesn’t mean a thing if you can’t trust the people who are supposed to be helping you carry it out.

6. HE SACRIFICED HIS LIFE AND LEFT HIS FAMILY FOREVER – ALL FOR A MINUSCULE CHANCE AT KEEPING SANSA SAFE Granted, by the time Ned was brought out onto the steps of the Sept of Baelor, his options were very, very limited due to his own deliberate course of action. He knew he would either (a) die, or (b) get sent to the Wall, separated from his family forever. Either way, his life would essentially be over, and he would most likely be declared a traitor to the crown, which meant that unless his son Robb swore fealty to Joffrey (which he likely knew would never happen), his entire family would be considered traitors, and their lands and goods and freedom forfeit to Joffrey (and, by extension, Cersei). Still, dying would be more honorable. Accepting exile to the Wall meant lying abominably to earn a hollow life of shame – not an action the honorable Ned Stark would have taken lightly. But he did it anyway, because doing it gave his beloved daughter Sansa a better chance at survival. Of course, Ned failed to take into consideration the extent of Joffrey’s megalomaniacal cruelty, and he died anyway for his troubles.

Certainly, many of Ned’s actions, when taken at face value, don’t look too brilliant. That makes his more intelligent and shrewd deeds, such as the conspiracy to place Stannis on the throne, even more confusing. One sees a picture of a noble and even heroic man, one who clearly has a brain for military and even sometimes political strategy, who hatches incredibly detailed and sophisticated plans but then blows them all in bursts of idiocy.

But what motives lie behind that apparent idiocy? That is the crucial question, and one that many viewers have missed, although the answer should surprise no one.

Every time Ned Stark made a “stupid” decision, it was for one or more of the following three reasons: 1) serving the greater good of the realm (leaving Winterfell to become Robert’s Hand, taking on Littlefinger as a co-conspirator to put Stannis, the rightful heir, on the throne); 2) acting honorably (warning Cersei that he was about to reveal her affair with Jaime); and, most importantly, 3) protecting his family. The motives are often intertwined, and sometimes one (such as honor) conflicts with one or more of the others (such as protecting Ned’s family), but every one of the decisions outlined above has involved some combination of these three reasons.

Twelve-year-old Sansa, of course, could not entirely understand her father’s actions or the complex motivations behind them. All she saw was that he screwed up and lost his head for it. When she got older, she had more of a capacity to understand why Ned did what he did. As she says to Jon in episode 1 of season 7, “He was trying to protect [his daughters].” However, that doesn’t decrease the trauma his death put her through, and she wishes he would have been smarter by listening better to both his own instincts and the wise counsel of his family and friends.

Sound familiar? Good. Let’s unpack some of Jon’s more questionable decisions from the past two seasons, which parallel his uncle’s to an uncanny degree, and see what his actions and mannerisms tell us about why he made those decisions:

1. HE LIED TO HIS FAMILY, HIS FRIENDS, AND THE WORLD During most of Jon’s scenes with Daenerys, he’s been uncomfortable, stilted, cautious, resigned, and even downright afraid, especially as season 8 has worn on. His final “I love you” to her in the early scenes of “The Bells” is just the latest, but perhaps the most obvious, instance in which he uses what’s left of her romantic feelings for him in a desperate attempt to placate her and de-escalate her more violent tendencies. The man is clearly not in love with Daenerys, and, based on his prior interactions with her, he never was (heck, he even looked uncomfortable while having sex with her!) – although that’s an argument for a different post.

But Jon never spells this out clearly to either his people (sorry, but “I gave up my crown to protect the North” is an ambiguous allusion, not a specific explanation) or, even more important, his family, whom he loves more than anyone. He can bring himself to admit his true parentage to his siblings cousins, but not that he deceived Daenerys into thinking he was in love with her. Instead, he keeps reciting the tired refrain that “she’s my queen; she’ll be a good queen; you just don’t know her.” Ironically, of course, and as another meta that contrasted Ned’s circumstances with Jon’s noted, his family members could and would help him if only he would ask for it. Sansa is a terrific leader with a keen political mind and the clout to call the Northern banners to defend Jon against Daenerys, if she wanted to do it. Arya is one hell of a warrior assassin. And Bran’s visions, as we’ve seen, can work wonders. Furthermore, all three of them are fiercely loyal to him. But he still won’t tell them squat about what he fears Daenerys is becoming, and even when Sansa figures it out during the battlements scene with Tyrion, you can see the wheels turning in her head over why the heck Jon didn’t just tell her about it in the first place.

What an idiot, right? But remember Ned Stark’s three main motives behind some of his “stupid” decisions, and you’ll see that Jon truly is his uncle’s nephew. Clearly, he sees Daenerys as a threat to the North in general and to his family in particular, especially Sansa (whom Daenerys threatened twice in the first episode alone). The fewer people who know Jon’s true feelings about her, the less he has to worry that she’ll hear about them and go Dracarys on the people Jon cares about the most.

Ned Stark motives #1 and #3: CONFIRMED.

2. HE DISREGARDED HIS FAMILY’S WARNINGS AND HEADED STRAIGHT INTO A DANGEROUS PLACE Back in episode 2 of season 7, Sansa and the Northern lords between them listed every possible reason that Jon should rethink his impulsive decision to travel to Dragonstone and form an alliance with a Targaryen who, given the family’s history of madness and violence, might very well either listen to Jon or burn him on the spot. Granted, Tyrion Lannister, whom both Jon and Sansa trusted, had vouched for Daenerys, and neither of them particularly wanted Cersei Lannister to stay on the Iron Throne, but to Sansa’s mind, Daenerys was enough of an unknown quantity – with three dragons to boot – that Jon should have considered his decision a bit more thoroughly.

But Jon, like his uncle, had a larger goal in mind that outweighed his desire to stay home with the only family he had. Jon’s goal, though, was not the realm’s political stability, but its survival. To his mind, the only hope he had of achieving that goal for his people and the people of the other six kingdoms was to bring Daenerys, her armies, her dragons, and her dragonglass back North. That much he does admit to Sansa in episode 1 of season 8, but, as she points out, he hadn’t fully considered the price he was paying for her assistance. Had he known ahead of time, though, I think our beloved, impulsive hero would have done the same thing all over again. To him, every sacrifice he made on Daenerys’s altar was worth it to save his family, the North, and Westeros, in that order.

Ned Stark motives #1 and #3: CONFIRMED.

3. HE DELIBERATELY SHOWED HIS HAND TO HIS ENEMY – ALL BECAUSE OF HONOR When Jon first met Daenerys, he tried to convince her to join the fight against the White Walkers by every above-board means possible. He asked her nicely. He showed her evidence to support his claims (depending on what you believe about the cave drawings, but I think they were authentic). He offered his support to her claim to the Iron Throne. He warned her when he received the raven from Bran indicating that the Night King and his armies were on the way to Eastwatch. Only when Daenerys refused beyond all reason to drop her demand that Jon bend the knee did his actions become more underhanded and calculated. Only after he realized that his only other option was imprisonment did he agree to the mad idea of the Wight Hunt. Only after Cersei had apparently refused to join with them at the dragon pit summit and Daenerys began to waver in her commitment to help save the realm did Jon play the false romance card. He did the “dishonorable” thing, as Ned would have put it (sleeping with a woman he had no plans to marry and risking fathering a bastard), only after his attempts at honor, as he saw them, had failed.

Ned Stark motive #2: CONFIRMED.

4. HE PLOTTED AGAINST THE “QUEEN” OF WESTEROS WITHOUT SEEKING HELP AND COUNSEL FROM HIS FAMILY (Well, he plotted against Cersei Lannister, too, but that was a given from the beginning, so I won’t go into it any further here.)

By season 8, Jon knows Daenerys Targaryen well enough to be wary of her, at the very least, and by the end of episode 1, he’s clearly beginning to see just how applicable the “-[A]erys” at the end of her name is. She threatens Sansa twice. Sam tells him that she killed Randyll and Dickon after they had already surrendered on the field of battle. She clearly expects the North to kowtow to her and loves it when her dragons frighten them.

As the season wears on, Daenerys’s paranoia and impulsiveness increase at lightning speed. In episode 4 alone, she threatens Sansa for a third time, forces Jon into promising not to tell his own family who he really is, and pressures him to continue his sexual relationship with her even when he doesn’t want to do it. Jon clearly sees the writing on the wall at that point, and he finally rebels against her in his own way by breaking his (coerced) promise and telling his cousins that he’s not Ned Stark’s son. That would have been the perfect opportunity for him to enlist their help against Daenerys. As mentioned above, they all have skill sets that could help him greatly in that endeavor. Instead, he decides that it’s more important to “protect” them by giving them no choice in the matter and separating them from the threat Daenerys has become. He swears allegiance once again to the Dragon Queen and heads south at her command with no clear plan to stop her oncoming descent into full-fledged villainy except to talk her out of it, and then maybe deal with any out-of-control actions on her part once Cersei Lannister has been defeated. Sigh.

Ned Stark motive #3: CONFIRMED.

5. HE IGNORED HIS GUT INSTINCTS AND PLACED HIS TRUST IN A DANGEROUS AND DEADLY INDIVIDUAL Even though Jon was the one who insisted on heading off to Dragonstone in season 7 to persuade a completely unknown quantity descended from the craziest, most violent House the Seven Kingdoms have ever had the misfortune to host, he clearly has his reservations about it. He’s rightly uneasy when the Dothraki confiscate his ships and weapons, and just as rightly indignant when Daenerys insults him and his family. However, he persists in trying to obtain her assistance because she can help him with his goal of defeating the dead, much like Ned thought Littlefinger could help him with his goal of putting the rightful heir on the throne of Westeros. He believes, at least for a time, that she’ll be a better choice as an ally than would Cersei Lannister, and that belief makes him overlook warning signal after warning signal: her threat to burn down the Red Keep, her insistence on imprisoning him on Dragonstone until he agrees to go on the wight hunt, her hauling him to King’s Landing against his will, her threats against his family (particularly Sansa) – all to defeat the dead. Until the dead have finally been defeated, and he gets a full view of Daenerys’s true colors, just like Ned Stark got an eyeful of Littlefinger’s.

Ned Stark motive #1: CONFIRMED.

6. HE SACRIFICED HIS LIFE AND LEFT HIS FAMILY FOREVER – ALL FOR A MINUSCULE CHANCE AT KEEPING SANSA SAFE Jon knew there was a high likelihood that he’d die defending Winterfell against the dead in episode 3, and a similar possibility that he’d die trying to take King’s Landing with Daenerys’s armies in episode 5. Dying in episode 3 would have meant dying with some honor in defense of his home, but once he went south to die in episodes 4 and 5, he knew that his options were limited. He could either (a) die in the service of a pyromaniac tyrant, or (b) live, but only under the terms she’d dictated to him in episode 4. Either way, he knew he might never be able to see his family again, and either way, he’d brought shame and dishonor upon himself and his family. As with Ned Stark, the greater shame lay in the second option, which in Jon’s case basically involved being enslaved, sexually and otherwise, to his cruel and unhinged aunt (yes, the great “Breaker of Chains” – oh, the irony!).

But instead of rushing forward to his death in King’s Landing, as he had in the Battle of the Bastards, Jon chooses to live. He chooses to retreat with as many of his men as he can and risk living a life of slavery and shame. If he’s dead, he can’t protect his family. He can’t protect Sansa. He’s promised to protect her, and that’s what he’s determined to do no matter what the cost – to his honor, his life, and his soul. It’s beautiful, but incredibly tragic.

Ned Stark motive #3: CONFIRMED.

So, in the end, was Jon Snow really smarter than his uncle? Unlike with Robb, I’d have to say no, and I think that Sansa, even as an adult and with the capacity and insight she now has to understand the proverbial methods behind both men’s madness – would as well. Both men had significant military skills, and both men planned and executed fairly sophisticated schemes. And both were willing to protect their families, with a special emphasis on Sansa, no matter what the cost. But both had the same fatal flaws: (a) they were a bit too noble in some cases for their own good, (b) they held their cards too close to their chests, and (c) they failed to communicate with and seek the aid of the trustworthy people around them. Only good luck – and the intervention of his family, however much he tried to avoid it – has kept Jon alive longer than Ned. I participated in an interesting Tumblr discussion the other day (which I have tried and failed to track down for reference here), and one of the other posters put the difference between Jon and Ned in an absolutely ingenious way. Ned, the poster pointed out, had a “pack” full of children, none of whom could assist him in the way that he needed. (I’d add to that assertion that he had a brilliant asset in Cat, but she couldn’t be by his side to advise him moment to moment the way he needed to be advised.) But Jon has a “pack” of peers – fellow young adults with the ability and the influence to help him defeat an enemy he has no hope of taking down on his own. I absolutely agree with this, and I think Sansa would too. In fact, she’s already correctly guessed (most of) Jon’s reasoning and begun taking matters into her own hands to help him. I’d love it if she did even more in the finale, along with Arya and Bran.

After all, they remember, even if Ned and Jon themselves do not, that the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. They love him even though he’s never been any smarter than Ned. (Although, of course, he might do better in the future, after Daenerys has been dealt with, to choose a wife like the wife his father married – politically smarter than he is, unafraid to tell him the unvarnished truth when he needs it, and, of course, red-headed. I don’t think Sansa would mind that, either.)

#game of thrones #jon snow #ned stark #jon x sansa #meta #northern fools #Jon needs his pack now more than ever #especially sansa

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