#“Halt Go To Therapy” Challenge: fucking failed

[void-occupation]

Whatever you do, don't think about how the song "Remember Everything" by Five Finger Death Punch fits Halt and his childhood trauma to a T.

I'm not going to go into a full analysis. I'm not going to go into a full analysis. I'm not going to go into a full-

FULL ANALYSIS AHEAD (disclaimer: "Remember Everything" does not belong to me)

"Dear mother, I love you. I'm sorry I wasn't good enough. Dear father, forgive me. Cause in your eyes, I just never added up. In my heart I know I failed you, but you left me here alone."

Halt talks about how Ferris was the favorite child, and how his parents fought all the time. We all know by now about Halt's tendency to blame himself for things (as seen in "The Battle for Skandia" and "Erak's Ransom"). He probably blamed himself for his parents arguing all the time - hell, he literally said that he refused to tell his parents that Ferris was actively trying to kill him because he thought that Ferris was the only thing they cared about and he didn't want to take that away from them. Even though it was his choice, Halt was a kid. He probably felt at least a little bit abandoned and betrayed that his parents didn't seem to even notice anything amiss before Halt ran away.

"If I could hold back the rain, would you numb the pain? Cause I remember everything."

Something else that is touched on in the fourth book is Halt's tendency to deflect conversations that confront him on his fears and such. It's a fairly offhand note, but it has some pretty big implications. Halt has this need to make sure that everyone else is okay, while simultaneously ensuring that no one ever sees his suffering. He is constantly shielding other people, and feels guilty when he requires that same protection.

"Dear brother, just don't hate me for never standing by you, or being by your side."

I refuse to believe that Ferris was the murderous evil twin from the start. There was probably a very large portion of heir childhood where Halt and Ferris were close, before Ferris became obsessed with the crown. That would be a good reason why Halt only suspected Ferris later on. I feel like Halt would spend a lot of time telling himself that it was something he did that sent Ferris over the edge, and he would blame himself for the betrayal.

"Dear sister, please don't blame me. I only did what I thought was truly right."

I can't be the only one who thinks that Halt always regretted leaving Caitlyn behind, but he knew it was either that or kill Ferris, which is something I don't think he would ever be capable of doing. He loved his twin too much.

"It's a long and lonely road when you know you walk alone."

I know that Halt wasn't technically alone, and he became part of a massive found family, but not being able to tell anyone about the things he went though, and the people he left behind as well as his reasoning would have been isolating - if not crushing - for anyone. Hell, no one knew his real last name or anything about his past for just about 24 years. Not even mentioning the fact that when he finally admits it, he is 41 years old, so he has hidden this for well over half his life, not counting the 17 years he actually lived in Clonmel. That is a long time to carry around huge amounts of trauma without telling anyone who cares about you.

"I feel like running away, I'm still so far from home."

This one is fairly obvious. However, it is not talked about nearly enough that Halt is a runaway. Let that sink in for a second. What do you think of when you hear the term 'runaway' in reference to a child? For most, it's the thought of a kid escaping an abusive household and living on the streets with nothing but a backpack filled with belongings. That was what Halt did at 17. Except he had to go all the way to a foreign country to escape his situation. And the only person he ever saw from home again was the person who had made him leave in the first place.

"I'll burn it all to the ground before I let you in."

This is pretty much Halt's whole philosophy on showing any sort of emotion to people. He didn't smile around Will until months into his apprenticeship, and it took years until he was able to summon the courage to tell Will the truth about his mother. And again, the whole 24 years of absolute secrecy about his childhood doesn't exactly show someone that is willing to open themselves up to others.

"Please forgive me, I can't forgive you now."

Halt still blames himself for the rift between himself and Ferris, but he is also consumed by hurt and betrayal over the fact that Ferris cared more for the crown then he did his own brother, and I can't blame him even a little bit for feeling that way. Especially considering that when they do finally meet up again, Ferris shows no real sign of regret for his actions.

All-in-all, this just feels like a violently Halt-esque song. The pain and regret is something I think his character suffers a lot of, and this captures that really well.

If you made it to the end of that ungodly ramble, kudos to you because holy hell, I think I was temporarily possessed by the god of angst.

[ravenforce]

Fix A Heart

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Bruce Banner

Warning/s: None except still angsty af. 

Summary: Sequel to Stone Cold (Find it here:  Part 1). Nat made a choice. She broke your heart, will Nat have time to fix it?

A/N: It gets worst before it gets better my loves. Buckle up! I'm so sorry for any mistakes. X

***

Nat is third-wheeling with Wanda and Vision after not being drafted to join your mission with the boys, when Sam entered the living room.

"Hey! How's Y/N?" Sam asked no one in particular.

"What do you mean?" Nat asked with a furrowed brow. As far as she knows, your team isn't back yet.

Sam looked confused, "didn't she just got out of surgery?"

Nat's heart stopped, she turned white as a sheet of paper.

"Weren't they on a mission?" Nat heard Wanda ask. Sam just shrugged, he was on another job with Rhodey.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y, where is Y/N?" Nat spoke loud enough for F.R.I.D.A.Y to register her voice and understand the question.

"I'm sorry Ms Romanoff but that's classified information."

Nat scowled, nothing about you is supposed to be 'classified information' for her. Wanda and Sam shared a commiserating look.

"What do you mean classified? And why am I not informed?" Nat ask again, frustration evident in her voice.

"You're not authorized to access that information because you're not Ms Y/L/N's emergency contact anymore."

Wanda gasped, Nat ignored her. "Since when?" It breaks her heart that you thought she wouldn't care enough to want to know about your well-being. She knows she hurt you but this retribution is painful.

"Since you broke her heart," Tony answered as he strolls inside the room wearing a bloody shirt.

***

"We put her under medically induced coma to help her body recover," the doctor explained the team.

Nat was only listening in passing, she's watching your pale, very still body lying on a hospital bed. If she thought watching you hold yourself together as she breaks up with you was excruciating, this feels worst. She was supposed to be the one holding your hand right now, not Wanda or Tony but here she is, forced by her mistake to stand in the sidelines.

To make matters worst, Fury chooses this time to send her in a mission. She tried to argue, she almost begged him to let her stay behind but they've worked together long enough for her to know when to pick a fight.

"She'll be fine," Clint whispered as they prepare to board the quinjet.

"I know," Nat answered as she checks her suit and gear for the nth time.

"Then why the long face?"

Before Nat can answer though, Bruce bounded into the aircraft to bid them good luck. Clint watched as Nat's frown dip lower.

***

A week after your medically induced coma, you started to stir. It was bright when you blinked your eyes open.

"Y/N?"

You sighed and turned towards Bruce.

"Hey man," you said weakly, your voice still raw and scratchy. "How long have I been out?"

"A week. How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been Hulk smashed," you answered automatically and started giggling. He didn't find it funny.

"Too soon?" You asked smiling.

He shook his head, "how can you not hate me when I'm so angry with myself?"

You sobered up quickly, your smile dimming a little. "It's not my job to coddle your guilt Banner."

"Not just about this," he said, motioning to your current state.

"She chose you. She wanted you, not me."

Saying it hurts as much as your bodily injuries, and crashed ankle that's been mocking you since you opened your eyes.

"You could have fought for her? Fought me? Everyone knows you're smart enough to take me down," he argues further.

You sighed, "I could have but I know how to pick my fights."

***

Another week has passed before Nat and Clint arrived back in the compound. Clint went directly to his room to change, while Nat almost skipped to the medical wing to see you. When she arrived at your hospital room she was horrified to find it cleared out.

"Where's the patient?" Nat tried to ask the nurse calmly.

"She's been discharged," is all the nurse told her. Nat almost ran to the living room where she knows most of the team will be.

"Where is she?" she asked. Everyone halted whatever they've been doing prior to Natasha's rather loud entrance.

Steve came forward. "Nat, calm..." he started to say but Nat cut him off by repeating her question.

"She's gone," Bruce answered from where he was sitting. Nat turned to her boyfriend. He just shrugged, indicating that he doesn't know. She noted the absence of Tony and Wanda.

"Where is she?" She asked again.

"She doesn't want you to know," Fury answered suddenly appearing at the door.

Nat gritted her teeth in an attempt to reign in the urge to cry. She has been so happy when Steve told her you've been awake and doing therapy. She knows that you might not want to see her, talk to her and that was okay; a glimpse of you alive and breathing and smiling again would have been enough. She didn't think you'd hate her enough to leave without saying goodbye.

***

People say you don't know the value of what you have until its gone. As cliché as it is, Nat learned it the hard way. She loves you, she really does and she fucked up so bad for realizing it way too late. She fucked up so bad for choosing to chase potential with Bruce. Now she's been raking her brain for a way to find you and correct her mistake but even after hacking into S.H.I.E.L.D she's come up empty.

She's been withdrawn since you left. She misses you. She misses the way you immediately curl up next to her the moment she comes to bed. She misses the way you mumble sweet nothings on her neck before you fall asleep. She misses the way you fit so perfectly against her body. She misses waking up to your sleepy smiles in the morning.

She misses your banter and sassy comebacks. It's one of the things she loves about you, you were never scared to challenge her, tease her; you never tiptoed around her. She misses your nerdy jokes and unadulterated laugh that never failed to make her heart skip a beat or five.

She misses the way you always get her coffee right, Bruce is utter shit about it. She misses your late night drives going nowhere and ended up making out under the stars. She misses the way you're always there, always taking care of her, always having her back, always offering support, and always waiting for her to come home.

It's unfair of her to think that even after breaking your heart, she thought you'd still be there but she did. She thought that everything will be fine, she will still be able to see you, you're in the same team after all. She never thought you'd ever extricate yourself from her so permanently, she wasn't ready. She doesn't think she ever will.

[octoberobserver]

(I’ve Got You) Under My Skin - (Eddie Can Sing)

“I’ve got you under my skin. I’ve got you deep in the heart of me. So deep in my heart, that you’re really a part of me. I’ve got you under my skin…”

“Yo, Frankie, what time is it?”

Eddie Kaspbrak broke out of his reverie of half-singing-half-mumbling while he typed, halting immediately at the familiar, yet hoarse voice calling from across the room. His eyes leapt up towards the hallway and was met with the sight of a very rumpled Richie Tozier, clad in oversized sweatpants and an old, stained AC/DC T-shirt, staring at him through bleary eyes, his hair sticking up in every direction imaginable and sans his signature specs.

“Whoa, Rich, you look like crap.”

“Wow, thanks Eds. You say that to all the girls or am I just special?”

Eddie stared at Richie, really letting himself look, drinking in everything from the blood-shot eyes, to the ghostly-pale skin, to the shaky hands and everything in between.

Something was…wrong.

“What’s up with you? You sick?”

Richie blinked before giving a half-shrug, almost like he couldn’t be bothered to attempt a full one.

“I’m fine.”

And yeah, if Eddie wasn’t sure of something being amiss before, he was 100% certain now. Short answers were never Trashmouth Tozier’s thing and that had not changed in the last thirty years, Eddie re-learned fast since moving in with him five months ago.

He watched as his roommate shuffled across the room, his whole body slumped, as if he were a lackluster marionette with strings too long and a puppetmaster too apathetic. There was a weight to him, like he wore a boulder as a backpack, pushing down on the expanse of his shoulders.

Eddie shook his head before he could dwell on Richie’s shoulders. Now was not the time.

“You uh…you want some tea? The kettle just—”

“We got any coffee left?” Richie cut across him, his tone sharper than Eddie was used to hearing outside the hysteria of dealing with a killer clown.

“Uh, yeah, think so. A bit. You want me to—”

“No, I got it.”  

Eddie bit his bottom lip, a pang of something flaring painfully in his chest.

He’s not Myra. Don’t compare him to—he’s not her. He’s just having a bad day. Don’t be so fucking sensit—

A loud crash interrupted his spiralling thoughts.

“FUCK!”

Eddie threw his laptop onto the cushion and leapt up and around the couch, heart in his throat as he skidded into the kitchen.

“What the hell was—”

The words died in his throat as he was met with the sight of Richie, kneeling on the kitchen floor, surrounded by broken glass and coffee-grounds, his head in his hands and hung so low that Eddie couldn’t see his face.

“…Richie?”    

He tensed, his whole body as still as a statue, almost as if he thought if he didn’t move a muscle, Eddie somehow wouldn’t see him.

Richie Tozier, a man of constant movement, energy flowing from him in waves, had never been so stagnant.

It looked… wrong.

Eddie was padding over to him and kneeling down before he could think.

“Whoa, fuck, Eds!” Richie exclaimed, hands flying from his face as he tried to shoo him away, “Watch the glass! You could hurt—”

“It’s fine, Richie. I’m fine. But… you’re not ,” he murmured, aching to reach out and touch him, but holding himself back.

Richie didn’t even try to argue with him, staying silent, refusing to meet his eye, which spoke volumes, really.

“I’ll…get the dustpan. Don’t move. There could be tiny shards—just, don’t move a fucking muscle until I say so, okay?”

“Yessir!”

His mock-salute was half-hearted and his tone lacked its usual ‘charming’ sarcasm, muttered instead to the floor.

Eddie’s stomach lurched with worry.

But he powered through, making quick work of sweeping up the coffee granules and whatever glass he could see. When he was done, he halted in front of Richie, who was still kneeling, having done what he was told and not moved an inch.

“Come on,” he murmured, gesturing with his hands, “let’s get you up.”

Richie tilted his head ever so slightly, not quite meeting his eye.

“You know how bad I wanna make a boner joke, right?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, just about stopping himself from pointing out that he wasn’t the one kneeling crotch-level in front of another man.

Not the fucking time, Kaspbrak.

“I know. But you can make it from the couch. Come on,” he urged, holding out his hand, “careful. I know you can’t see shit right now, and there might be some pieces I missed.”

Richie stared at Eddie’s hand like his fingers had morphed into live snakes.

He tried (and failed) to shove down his offense at that.

“Take my fuckin’ hand, dude. Don’t make me challenge you to arm-wrestling again.”

Richie snorted, sounding a little more like himself (even if he didn’t rise to the obvious bait) as his hand enveloped Eddie’s.

Eddie swallowed, his heart skipping a beat as he was reminded, yet again, just how fucking giant Richie’s hands were.

Gently, he tugged his friend up to a standing position, eyes scanning the floor for any wayward glass. When he didn’t find any, he began walking backwards, leading them out of the room, towards the couch.

He could have dropped Richie’s hand as soon as his feet touched the hardwood floor of their living room. But he didn’t. Instead, he held on, probably tighter than necessary as he navigated around the couch and took a seat, pulling Richie down to sit beside him.

Their hands stayed clasped, Richie squeezing back ever so slightly.

“Rich,” Eddie mumbled after a beat of silence, leaning forward to catch his eye, “what’s…what’s going on, man? You’ve been in your room all day. Is it…are you upset about your date the other night? ‘Cause it’s like I said, dude, fuck that guy. There’s plenty of people who would—”

“I couldn’t give less of a fuck about Dylan Lemass and his hard on for Instagram likes, Eds,” Richie interjected with a sigh, wiping his free palm down his face, rubbing his eyes.

Eddie waited, worry gnawing at his insides as dozens of possibilities flashed through his brain at what could be the matter.

Is he dying? Sick? Looking for a way to tell me he wants me to move out so he can have his bachelor pad bac—

“I just…I haven’t been sleeping well and it’s…fucking with me, I guess.”

It sounded like a different confession altogether.

Something like, “I’m kept awake by haunting deadlights I can’t escape,” or “every time I’m alone in the dark, I hear that fucking clown taunting me,” or “I’m afraid if I close my eyes, I’ll see you die all over again.”

Maybe it was all three. And more. Eddie knew he had felt similarly the first few months after…everything.

And they were coming up to the one year mark now. It made sense if Richie was finding it difficult to get any sleep.

Eddie swept his thumb over the back of Richie’s hand before he could second-guess himself.

“It’ll be a year next week…have you thought any more about going to therapy? It’s helped me.”

Was what he wanted to say.

What he probably should have said.

Would definitely say another day.

Now though, as he thought back to the last time he saw Richie sleep peacefully, he just squeezed his hand and murmured, “Come with me.”

Richie blinked, a line forming in between his eyebrows as Eddie began tugging him again, up from the couch, across the living room and down the hallway.

He faltered only minutely outside Richie’s bedroom before squaring his shoulders and pushing the door open wide.

“Eds, what…” words seemed to fail Richie, his hand that was still clasped in Eddie’s, tensing.

“Lie down, Tozier,” Eddie ordered, finally letting his hand drop as he moved to close the drapes, blocking out the vestiges of late evening light, the room engulfed in a semi-darkness.

He could just about make out the bewildered form of his best friend as he fought down the myriad off Kill Bill sirens whirring in his head, too taken with his lightbulb idea to really heed any potential warnings from his over-anxious brain.

“Buy a girl dinner first, Edward. I’m not that kinda lady.”

It was a stalling tactic, it didn’t take a genius to see that.

Eddie reached out and laid his hand lightly on Richie’s shoulder.

“Just…trust me, Rich. Lie down.”

He paused.

“I promise I’ll be gentle.”

That got a surprised laugh to bubble from Richie’s throat.

Eddie practically preened, forcing himself to step away lest he be caught out.

“And Eddie gets off a good one!” Richie exclaimed as he shuffled over to the left side of the bed, sounding so much like his thirteen-year-old-self that it made Eddie’s heart ache.

He bit his lip as he watched him, his heart racing at the sight of Richie standing at the bed, lowering himself down to sit back against the headboard, hands folded in his lap, head tilted at Eddie, as if awaiting instruction.

And fuck, didn’t that do things to his insides.

Not. The. Time. Kaspbrak.

Taking a deep breath, Eddie tried to work up his nerve for his dumbass plan.

Richie blinked.

“So, uh, what’s—”

“I’ve got you under my skin,” Eddie began to sing lowly, eyes focussing on a spot over Richie’s head as he tried not to dwell on the truth of the words falling from his lips, “I’ve got you deep in the heart of me. So deep in my heart that you’re really a part of me. I’ve got you under my skin…”

Eddie paused, blushing furiously under the dark, widened gaze of his best friend. Even without his glasses, it still felt that as if he was a human X-ray machine seeing right through Eddie, right into, well, the heart of him.

Could you be anymore obvious, dipshit?

“You uh…you slept pretty good the other night when we were watching that Chris Hansen exposé,“ he tried to explain his flawed logic, rubbing the back of his neck. "I thought…I thought maybe, some soft sounds might uh…might like lull you to sleep, or whatever.”

So fucking stupid. He has a fucking TV in here, genius. Why would he need a live performance from a mediocre—

A small smile spread across Richie’s face, his eyes almost unbearably soft.

“You’re saying I get a private Eddie Kaspbrak concert?” He asked as he pulled the covers up over himself, shifting further down to lie in the bed, “Sign me up, dude. Know any lullabies?”

“I’m not singing you a lullaby, Richie.”

“Aw, but Eds! Rock-A-Bye Baby is a class—”

“I’m leaving,” Eddie rolled his eyes, face burning at the fact he actually implemented his idiotic idea as he turned in his heel, “this was such a dumb—”

“No, wait, Eddie!” Richie half-yelled, sounding more animated than he had the entire evening, “I’m sorry, I’ll be good. Sing whatever you want man, I…I like your voice.”

Eddie turned slowly, frantic heartbeat pulsing in his ears, wishing he could see Richie’s face, but not able to now that he was lying down.

“Fine. One song. Two, tops. Then I start charging and I’m not cheap.”

“So many jokes, so little time,” Richie replied, smile audible in his tone as he spoke to the ceiling, “deal. But uh…could you like, sit down or something? I’m not super psyched about trying to sleep when someone’s standing at the foot of my bed like a psycho killer peeping on sexy coEds in a slasher flick.”

Eddie rolled his eyes again before scanning the room.

“Sit where, Rich? You don’t have any—“

“The uh…the bed’s fine. You know if you…shove a pillow behind your head?”

Eddie’s heart leapt into his throat as he eyed the space on the right side, perfectly Eddie Kaspbrak-sized.

Richie must have heard his hesitancy.

“C'mon Eddie, you know the drill. We did it all the time as kids.”

“We were like eleven, Richie.”

“And we’re 41 now. Age is just a number, man. If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t have offered to sing me a lullaby like two minutes ago.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, forcing his feet to move, his heart hammering a crescendo in his chest.

“I specifically said I’m not singing you a lullaby, asshole.”  

He watched as Richie shifted in the bed, turning ever so slightly to blink up at him.

Eddie’s stomach did a somersault as he stood at the side of the bed, their eyes locking.

“Okay, Eds,” Richie breathed, voice barely above a whisper as he slowly reached out and pulled back the covers, his large hand ashen and still a little shaky.

“Singer’s choice.”

Eddie’s eyes flickered from his face, to his hand and back again before gently easing himself down into the bed, his back coming to rest against a large, fluffy pillow as Richie pulled the blanket up over his thighs and letting it drop at his waist.  

He could hardly breathe, let alone sing.

Suddenly, he was eleven years old again. Complete with sweaty palms and racing heartbeat. Not much had changed in the last thirty years.  

Sharing a bed with Richie Tozier still felt salacious. Forbidden. Exhilarating. And everything he has ever wanted.

A silence fell over them, but it wasn’t awkward. It was…reflective. As if all those sleepovers were suddenly being recalled all at once. The knobbly knees knocking together under covers, the sugar-induced giggles stifled into pillows, the flashlight under sheets as they shared the latest issue of X-Men.

Secrets whispered into the dark, their noses inches apart.

Each memory silently passed between them as they stared at one another, Richie’s head propped up next to Eddie’s hip, his eyes heavy-lidded but alert.

Along with his brain melting out his ears, Eddie was also hyper aware that Richie’s hand had fallen barely an inch from his, resting on top of the blanket. He couldn’t stop looking at it, the broad arch of his knuckles, the length and width of his fingers, the dusting of light hair that travelled up his wrist.

He should’ve drank a glass of water before attempting this.

Or a bourbon. Or three.

Feeling Richie’s eyes burning a hole into the side of his face, Eddie kept his eyes locked on that hand as he opened his mouth and sang quietly into the room.

“I’d sacrifice anything, come what might, for the sake of having you near.  In spite of a warning voice that comes in the night, and repeats, repeats in my ear, don’t you know little fool, you never can win? Use your mentality, wake up to reality. But each time that I do, just the thought of you makes me stop before I begin. ‘Cause I’ve got you, under…”

~*~

Here’s a teaser for the next instalment. It’ll probably be the last, and will be in Richie’s POV:

“Wouldn’t it be nice if we were older, then we wouldn’t have to wait so long? And wouldn’t it be nice to live together, in the kind of world where we belon—”

“Eds,” Richie cut across him suddenly.

Eddie glanced over from the driver’s seat, lowering down the radio from the steering wheel.

“What?”

Their eyes met.

“…We’re older.”

(Read the entire series here)

[goforwardgreenwriter-blog]

The Worm Reads: Empire of Storms, Ch 47 - 48

My therapy bills have been steadily rising ever since I took on the challenge of reading this book.

If you recall correctly, last time we left off where some Ilkens attacked their ship and revealed the big baddie Erawan knows of her Wyrdkey. Chapter 47 picks up immediately after that reveal.

What, were you expecting an angry rant from me? Sadly, this book has crushed my very soul, and the quicker I stop criticizing SJM’s glaring flaws, the quicker I am freed from this demon.

Rowan hauled ass back to their ship, his magic near-flinging him through the air.

Man, I see why everyone says SJM’s writing is amazing. Love it when epic fantasy medieval Fae characters describe themselves as hauling their asses around, and getting all pissy at one another. Love it!

But Aelin wasn’t moving. Gavriel and Aedion, bloodied and limping, were barely moving. Fenrys, his chest a bloody mess with greenish slime —poison …

I’m sure these very painful injuries will never be brought up after this chapter. Rowboat decides to be the hero of the day and picks up a bow to shoot down the Ilken.

“A gold coin says he misses,” Fenrys rasped. “Save your breath for healing,” Aelin snapped. “Make it two,” Aedion said behind him. “I say he hits.” “You can all go to hell,” Aelin snarled. But then added, “Make it five. Ten says he downs it with the first shot.”

If these characters weren’t assholes, maybe I’d enjoy this banter. Also Fenrys, your chest is ripped open and soaked with poison, you should be knocking on death’s door by now, not making witty remarks.

Rowboat gets a clean headshot because of course he does, then tells Assdion and Fenrys to pay up, pricks. His words, not mine. The scene ends. Oh, I can totally see why a cliffhanger was necessary, so much happened after the last chapter ended.

Assdion is thinking about the battle and how he and his father fought side by side. Oh, fuck you SJM, give me that father son content!!!! I want Gav being a good dad damnit show me, don’t tell me!

[Aelin] still knelt over Fenrys, offering Rowan nothing more than a pat on his thigh as he stormed past to help with the other wounded. A pat on the thigh— for making a shot that Aedion was fairly certain most of his Bane would have judged to be impossible.

Another reason I hate Assdion’s POVs: they’re 95% him splooging over Rowboat and Alien. Like ungh we get it, Rowboat is the best warrior ever you don’t need to beat us over the head with it.

Aedion set down the pail of water [Aelin]’d asked him to get for Fenrys, trying not to wince as she wiped away the green poison that oozed out. A few feet away, his father was tending to a blubbering pirate—who had barely more than a tear to the thigh.

Hey man, not everyone can deal with pain the same way, especially not someone’s who mortal. Have you ever considered the pirate might be horrified and shaken up after witnessing his friends being eaten alive, that he might be in shock right now? Also, Gav is such a sweetheart for helping to comfort him. Lowkey shipping nameless pirate and Gav right now.

Fenrys tries to get Alien to tend to the others, which admittedly is rather noble and selfless of him, but dude, you got poison leaking out of your chest. Alien asks Fenrys how his magic works under the excuse of keeping him awake, but it’s actually so SJM can info dump at us.

“No one knows where it comes from—what it is,” Fenrys said between shallow breaths, fingers curling and uncurling at his sides. “But it lets me slip between folds in the world. Only short distances, and only a few times before I’m drained, but … it’s useful on a killing field.”

Oh, of fucking course nobody knows where it comes from. This is SJM on her knees begging you and I not to think about how her world works or why her magic is so inconsistent. She just slaps abilities onto her ocs and gives no thought as to how it all works in the big picture.

“What’s your shield made of, then?” Fenrys tried and failed to shrug. But Gavriel muttered from where he worked on the still-whimpering pirate, “Arrogance.” Aelin snorted, but didn’t dare take her eyes off Fenrys’s injury as she said, “So you do have a sense of humor, Gavriel.” The Lion of Doranelle gave a wary smile over his shoulder.

I love Gavriel..... I’m stanning him..... Wait every time I want to stan someone in this novel, SJM ruins them. Shit. Never mind.

“Lorcan was a bastard in Maeve’s palace, don’t worry,” Fenrys smirked, his bronze face wan.

Unghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh bronze

“Your parents?” Aedion pressed when Aelin herself seemed to be straining for words. He’d seen her heal little cuts, and slowly repair Manon’s wound over days, but …

Fenrys is almost dying because of the massive wound on his chest but we really out here focusing on Alien getting exhausted, huh.... that’s the level you’ve stooped to, SJM............

Rasping, laboring breaths from both of [Fenrys and Aelin]. Aedion shifted so that Aelin could lean wholly against him, biting down on the weight it put on his already-swollen knee.

OH MY GOD WE REALLY ARE. I don’t give a fuck if Alien is a “”little tired :((”” from using her magic, FENRYS IS GODDAMN DYING. SJM STOP METAPHORICALLY SUCKING ALIEN’S DICK FOR ONE GODDAMN SECOND PLEASE.

Fenrys says that serving Maeve fufills the male Fae need to serve and blehhh its gross. But I don’t care, Gav decides to finally spill the beans on his backstory and HOLY SHIT I AM READY. GIVE ME THE CONTEXT.

Gav was a soldier who came from a noble family. Being the youngest of three brothers, he wouldn’t inherit or rule ever, so he became a soldier. That’s why Maeve took interest in him, and why he joined her.

[Gavriel] rolled his shoulders. Fidgeting. “I only hated [serving Maeve] once. Only wanted to leave once.” He didn’t continue. And Aedion knew what the unspoken words were. Aelin brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “You loved [Aedion’s mom] that much?”

I-I CAN’T BELIEVE... IN A SJM NOVEL... I’M FEELING EMPATHY AND SORROW FOR A MAIN CHARACTER....

So Gav fell in love with Assdion’s mom and was willing to attempt to break the oath to Maeve to run off with her. That’s just... so sad but so good for his character hhhhh Gav deserves the world........

Honor is my code,” Gavriel said. “But if Maeve had tried to harm either you or her, Aedion, I would have done everything in my power to get you out.

Shit, I’m such a sucker for this kind of parent/child relationship. Assdion also feels bad for being a dick to his father, so that felt amazing to read. Overall, this was a good scene. A lot is left unsaid and not jammed down our throats, but it clearly shows Gav was a selfless and as good a father as he could’ve been. Did someone break into the editing room just to patch up the scenes with Gav? Nameless editor, you are my hero.

Aelin pushed off Aedion at last, trying and failing to get to her feet. Aedion reached for her as the focus went out of her now-dull eyes, but Rowan was already there, smoothly sweeping her up before she kissed the planks. Too fast—she must have drained her reserves too fast, and without any food in her system.

Normally I’d bitch about poor wittle Alien’s feefees getting all the attention while there are men dying on the ship but whatever, that last scene put me in a good mood so we’re not complaining today, folks.

The chapter ends with Assdion keeping watch during the night with Lysandra. I can’t believe that chapter was actually decent and made me choked up... how will SJM ruin it? Let’s find out in chapter 48.

A low, rumbling growl sounded, and Dorian looked across the deck, to the prow. The witch was still there. Still tending to Abraxos’s wounds, as she had been all night.

P-PURE....WHOLESOME......Manon and Abraxos are truly a treasure in this dumpster fire of a novel....

Manon had not let anyone near him. Aelin had tried once, and when Manon snarled at her, Aelin had cursed enough to make everyone else halt, saying she’d rutting deserve it if the beast died. Manon had threatened to rip out her spine, Aelin had given her a vulgar gesture, and Lysandra had been forced to monitor the space between them for an hour, perched in the rigging of the mainmast in ghost leopard form, tail swaying in the breeze.

Manon: Hey so I have no reason to really trust any of you and you’ve made threats to me before, so don’t get near my only friend on this ship.

Alien: what a slutty bitch!! you deserve to have your only friend die!!! fuck you you bitch!!!!

Words cannot describe how much I hate Alien is there a scene where someone finally kicks her ass? Please I need it.

Dorito and Manon ““banter”“ for a while and I’m already falling asleep zzzz

[Manon] met [Dorian’s] gaze, as if willing him to see a century of all that she’d done. “I am not mortal. I do not play by your rules. I have killed and hunted men for sport. Do not mistake me for a human woman, princeling.” “I have no interest in human women,” he purred. “Too breakable.”

W.....what.....

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK AM I READING

Is this a reference to Sorscha???? The healer who died rebelling against the evil king??

YOU CONSIDER THAT BREAKABLE. YOU CONSIDER HUMAN WOMEN WEAK AND BENEATH YOUR FEET NOW. SJM. YOU FUCKING, TYOU DHAHKFGDJFGS DHFAGJFD HDSFGJD

I AM SO FUCKING FURIOUS LIKE HOW, HOW IS THIS IN A YA SERIES. THIS IS GOING TO TELL YOUNG GIRLS THEY’RE WEAK FOR FALLING IN LOVE AND NOT HAVING SPECIAL POWERS LIKE MANON. WHAT THE EVER LIVING HOLY FUCK SHIT IS THIS.

FUCK YOU, SJM. FUCK. YOU.

“So you miscalculated,” Manon said. “So [the ilken] tracked you. Don’t get distracted with the minor defeats. This is war. Cities will be lost, people slaughtered. And if I were you, I would be more concerned about why they sent so few of the ilken.”

Manon is absolutely right, of course, but Alien shuts her down and everyone pats her on the ass for it. God I am fucking sick of the narrative bending over backwards to praise Alien for breathing.

Manon said a bit numbly, as if it was the first time she’d even spoken it to herself, “I am the last Crochan Queen—the last direct descendant of Rhiannon Crochan herself.”

Because literally nobody can not be royalty in this series. Average people from normal backgrounds rising up to do extraordinary deeds? Pfffft, nobody will read or like that. I am going to proceed to cling to my copies of the Lord of the Rings trilogy and cry now.

Two queens—there were two queens among them, Dorian realized.

And two princes - Rowboat and Assdion were described as princes for whatever the fuck reason - and a king, which is Dorito’s crusty ass. No wonder my favorite character, Gav, isn’t royalty, everyone who is is an asshole.

“Maybe [Maeve] told Erawan [that Aelin is alive],” Aedion said. Fenrys whipped his head to the general. “She’s never had any contact with Erawan, or Adarlan.” “As far as you know,” Aedion mused. “Unless she’s a talker in the bedroom.”

Great, so now we can add Assdion slut shaming Fenrys to the list of his sins. Oh, but since Fenrys is a guy, it’s played off as a joke because of course men can’t be slut shamed, tee hee! I fucking hate you, SJM.

Fenrys says something that makes Alien think of Baba Yellowlegs, a character in the carnival in Cr0wn of Midnight. Turns out she was a fortune teller who is now connected to this plot because SJM totally didn’t pull the Fae shit out her ass for H0F, nope!

Rowan knocked on the door of their private bathing room. [Aelin]’d locked it. Walked into their room, then into the bathing room, and locked him out. And now she was puking her guts up.

Indoor plumbing.....private bathrooms...... on a medieval ship..... they have functioning toilets......in the medieval century......

THIS GODDAMN WORLDBUILDING. So what goddamn time period is this in? Clearly its like medieval Britain, they have monarchies and castles, and use swords/arrows but then they have shit like toilets?? You have to pick a time period and stick to it, gdi, you can’t pick and choose!

Rowboat flips because she locked him out. Maybe she’s sick and wants to be left alone, fuck face??? Seriously he’s being so possessive and controlling this is not healthy!!!

Ten seconds. Ten more seconds seemed like a fair enough amount of time before [Rowan] crunched down on the handle and splintered the lock.

Holy fucking possessiveness. Batman! I fucking hate this asshole.

Rowan looked at the bucket [Aelin]’d half filled, then at her bloodless lips. At the sweat beaded on her brow.

Oh, so this means no toilets? Well, I suppose I’ll have to apologize a bit for my rant, but having private bathrooms is still dumb. later Rowboat sees that everyone has gone to shit on the nearby islands.

Eyllwe. Eyllwe was burning.

Greaaaaaaaat can’t wait to see how these people’s suffering is reduced to nothing but angst for Alien’s feefees......