#Sometimes I think about everyone before the war and terrible decisions

[greeniegirl23]

Isn't It.. Lovely? (Chapter 3#)

One month.

You had one month to make the biggest decision you'd ever make in your life. Part of you wondered why you didn't tell Alastor to have a field day with your Father's corpse, until you remembered that the other part of you still loved and cared for him.

He was still your Dad and once upon a time he was a very good Dad. Your parents were practically a power couple when your Mom was alive, after her death, depression fell on him like a bag of bricks. Leading him to find feeling again in glasses of wine and bottles of hard liquor.

Everyday you pondered on this, wondering if something would finally push you over the edge. If you'd snap and take revenge for yourself.

You didn't like having those thoughts. Yes, the idea of liberty made you feel elated but at the cost of the last family member you had? It was conflicting to say the least.

All that worrying came to a halt once Alastor began to solidify his place in your life.

Every night at 9pm sharp, when you were dressed for bed and your despicable abuser was asleep. Alastor used his powers to turn your radio into your own personal hotline. He was ever so happy to hear from you, happiest when he saw nor heard any traces of harm inflicted on you that day.

He soon found out that you were a curious one and a terrible over-sharer. It was obvious you never really had friends before and if you did, they left you behind long ago. You were as innocent and pure as the driven snow. Always asking questions about him, about Hell, and what it was like back when he was on Earth.

You loved when he told you more about his life. It was like he was reading you your own personal bedtime stories. Tales of speakeasies and the depression, parties that lasted from dusk to dawn, and of course, all of the completely justified crimes he committed before his demise.

As payment for his stories, you told him about your own and caught him up on modern day issues. He seemed especially interested in World War I, disappointed that he died a few years shy of when it started. You told him about your health science classes, your school, and he even became a good study buddy to help you out with your tests.

“Alright darling, last question.” He stated, a drum roll playing in the background. “If your patient performs a forward lunge, which plane of the body are they moving in?”

You chewed on the end of your pencil. “..Coronal?”

A bell dinging made you smile. “Correct! Well done darling, but I'd like for you to work on your confidence when you answer. No one wants a doctor that's unsure of what they're doing.”

“Yeah..I just get so unsure sometimes. I think I'm more scared of being wrong than being right.”

He chuckled. “Do not fret my dear! I've been doing these little pop quizzes with you long enough to know you have a sharp mind. Confidence is a tool that will solidify your place in the career you plan to pursue, so don't be afraid to utilize it more.” His voice was so kind and mentoirish. It felt like he was giving you life lessons almost every time he talked.

On one hand that made you embarrassed. Like these were things you should have already known but you didn't, but you decided to give yourself some grace. Life was different for you than everyone else, so obviously there would be some things you didn't experience to gain knowledge from.

You placed your pencil down and sat cross legged in your chair. Not being the type of person who could sit still, nor do things normally. “Is that how you become a radio host? Because you were super confident?”

There was a pause. “Well, it was something that helped. Being a professional at what I do required more than just believing in myself. Most people think it's easy, but it has its challenges. For example, I used to rehearse my script in the mirror to stop myself from unconsciously going ‘umm’ every 10-30 seconds. It also aided in preventing myself from fumbling my words.”

“That sounds like solid advice.” You smiled. “I should start keeping a journal when you're around and call it ‘Life Lessons As Taught By The Radio Demon.’”

A loud cackling broke out over the radio. “Ah, so the girl does have a sense of humor. A good one at that!” He said proudly. “And here I thought you were all doom and gloom.”

“Hey! I'll have you know staying positive at all times can be very exhausting.” You huffed, placing your hands on your hips in a pouty attitude. “It's really hard to smile when it feels like the world is against you...”

There was a stagnant silence in the air as you turned your head to gaze out the window, watching the rain drizzle from the grey sky. It was your favorite weather, even more so because of the friend it allowed you to find.

Alastor pondered over your words before he took a deep breath. “That leads to a question that I've been meaning to ask you for some time now. It's a rather sensitive one so if you'd prefer not to answer, I would understand.”

Giving the plushie your attention, Alastor's tone turned concerned as he asked. “I can’t help but wonder, Darling, where is your mother..?”

Without missing a beat, you replied. “Oh, my Dad murdered her.”

A sharp microphone screech omitted from the radio. It was safe to say he most definitely was not expecting that..

Not because he can't see your degenerate of a guardian doing something of the sort, he was actually more curious as to how someone as sloppy as your Dad could get away with something like that. No. What got him was even though you were saying words that no child should ever say until they're well into adulthood, you smiled. A soft one, filled with unspeakable pain and a lust for something you could not yet gain.

You could feel him hesitating to ask you some more questions on the topic, so you decided that you could quickly give him your life story. “Whenever anyone asks about it, I always tell them that she passed from cancer but, that's not true..”

Alastor’s signal chirped in curiosity, but he made sure to sound sympathetic. “What happened?..”

You chuckled a bitter melody.

“She was born a diabetic and I was around twelve.. Everyday my Mom took her medicine, the diabetes is actually what led her to becoming a doctor in the first place. Every morning my Dad would make her coffee, as a way of telling her he loved her. I snuck a few sips before only to find out she made it black, when she caught me she told me “Mommy can't have sugar…”

When I turned fourteen, they started arguing. A lot. I can remember hearing them sometimes. Mom threatened to leave him because he was starting to grow a gambling issue and she was tired of taking the brunt of most of the bills. He promised to change and that's when everything started to go downhill.. Weeks went by, she just started getting sicker and sicker seemingly out of nowhere. Still had her morning coffee though. I'd make it for her sometimes and she reminded me “Mommy can't have sugar.” Hardly able to do anything for herself, much less take her medicine. Of course he said he'd do it, he promised me he did when he took me to school..He still made her coffee, before he went to work and after she had been made bed bound..I thought it was a lie, that it wasn't true until I realized that she died that morning with a cup of coffee in her hand..”

A sour laugh left your lips, as you recalled that day you came home from school and found her lying there with blood on the pillow, blood that she had been coughing up for almost a month.

“That bastard was poisoning her with fucking sugar… Everyday he was putting a little bit in her morning coffee and not giving her the insulin she needed. She was a Type 1 diabetic and he did all of it for some fuckin insurance money..” You sighed, running a hand through your hair. Before yanking it in frustration and punching your fist through the nearest wall, your face was blank and unmoving for a second not even flinching as you removed your bruised fist from the drywall. “Mama couldn't have sugar..”

Alastor listened as you explained your mother's demise. His distaste for your father grew more and more as he recalled memories of his own childhood. He'd never tell you to your face, but he could see parts of himself in you from his younger years, if lead in the proper manner, you could become quite the promising killer.

He shook his head. Not the best thoughts to be having right now, not while you're on the edge of a mental breakdown.

“I..Would be lying to you if I said I knew what to tell you about such an awful situation..” He stated hesitantly. “But I can say that I am sorry, that you had to deal with something like this so early in life.”

“Don't be sorry, there's nothing to be done about it…She's gone now and I have to get away from him.” You declared, looking at your now bruised hand. “Now you understand why I made that wish. On any day, at any time, for any reason, that man could decide to kill me. To kill his own daughter in cold blood..”

Alastor hummed. “If you know this, then let me help you." He demanded. "I cannot sit idly by forever my dear, these links to your world are only good for short times to prevent other demons from causing other problems. No one understands the severity of this situation more than you. I would love to help you exact revenge on that putrid sack of skin but you must choose before it is too late and I am no longer around..

You sat in silence as Alastor did his best to help you come to a decision. As much as you hated being rushed, you couldn't deny that he was correct. But the decision was hard, harder than you thought it would be considering the fact that you still loved your father and the man he used to be…

All these thoughts ran through your head on a daily basis, everytime they made you wanna curl up and cry. Snatching up the plush doll, you gave it a good squeeze and hid your face in your knees, wishing that your Mom was still around.

The Radio Demon pursed his lips in thought, he wasn't good with others emotions unless he could feed off of the entertainment from it, much less comforting them. There was nothing entertaining about this, about you being sad. He didn't like it for a reason he couldn't explain, perhaps because you were so bubbly in the beginning?

You weren't trying to do anything miraculous, you just wanted to live your life in peace and possibly get justice for your mother. That was something he could understand. He wouldn't mind completely decimating your Dad, truly he wouldn't! It'd be on the house for you, truly you're the most pitiful soul he's come across in a long while.

He supposed he could pull a few quick strings to make you feel better in the moment. To bring back that smile of yours, full of wonder and a desire for life.

As you continued to seek shelter in your knees, you felt a gentle touch caress the top of your head, sharp claws softly scraping your scalp in an attempt to comfort you.

Wait..

WHAT?!

Quickly yet carefully, you snapped your head up to see none other than The Radio Demon crouched down right in front of you. His hand still rested on the crown of the head as you both stared at each other for a moment.

“I'm sorry.. am I dreaming?” You blurted out.

Alastor smiled, laughing in a low tone at your completely gobsmacked expression. “Fortunately for you, the answer is no my dear. As a gentleman, it'd be rude of me not to at least attempt to help a lady in emotional distress.”

You were still dazed and confused about him being here, much less t o u c h i n g you!! “Ida..I-- I didn't know you could-”

“Travel through the radio? It is quite possible but I only do so on rare occasions since it requires a fair bit of my power that cannot be overexerted in one day.”

Standing up to his full height, you realized how tall he was and thanked God that the ceiling was high enough for his antlers not to scrape. Crawling out of your chair, you immediately felt like an ant compared to him, the top of your head barely came to his collarbone.

“Holy crap you're tall." You blurted again. "I mean, I knew that you were tall but, you're really, really tall..”

Smirking with pride, he twirled his cane expertly like the show off you knew and loved. “7”0 exactly my dear, a foot taller than I was when I was a mortal! Though I suppose that was the universes funny way of punishing me for my crimes, I've bumped my forehead on door frames a good 50 times in both life and death!”

As you examined his real life appearance, you couldn't help but laugh. “Yeah well, the heels don't help.” You pointed to his shoes.

He huffed in feigned offense. “They are not heels, darling they are tap dancing shoes and it was quite common for them to have a bit of height back in my day.”

“Okay, Fred Astare.” You snorted as he settled himself on the side of your bed as you marveled at the fact that he was still taller than you even while sitting down. “And here I was preparing to offer you a dance in hopes of lifting your spirits, only for you to insult my tastes in fashion.” He hmphed, crossing his arms and legs while sticking up his pointy nose towards you.

In a daring moment, you sat right next to him crissed crossed, careful not to to touch him while he continued to play offended. “C’mon Al, don't be so huffy. I didn't mean anything by it.”

“ ‘Al’ huh?” He hummed. “Sounds like someone is getting rather familiar.”

“Hey, you call me 'Darling' and 'Dear' so often I think that it's only fair that I call you 'Al' on occasions.”

“I suppose you have a point. Nevertheless, I came here to try and boost your spirits, you seem to be doing better so if you wish to be bratty I can just go back home..” He teased with an evil grin.

“Wait!” You said just a bit too loudly. “Would you like to play a game with me? Ya know, before you go..”

Alastor raised an eyebrow in curiosity as he parted his lips to deny your offer, until you pulled out the big guns and gave him your best puppy girl eyes. A chill went down his spine from your usage of such cheap tactics, remembering his years as a lad and doing the exact same thing when he wanted something desperately from his dear mother.

“Okay! Okay!” He said, placing his hands up in surrender. “I shall subject myself to whatever game this is for one round, as long as you stop making that revolting expression..”

He watched as you smiled with pure enthusiasm. Such a beautiful smile you had, it made him irritated that you didn't do it more, yet proud that he typically was the source of it sprouting in the first place. Crimson eyes followed your movements as you shuffled off the bed to grab a small deck of cards off of your shelf. A part of him hoped you heard the chuckle that left his lips while you struggled to stand on your toes to retrieve this game.

“It's called ‘Uno’ “ You explained, walking back to him with a red box in hand. “It's a pretty simple game and the rules are easy.” Dumping the cards out of the box, the two of you sat parallel with one another.

”However, this simple game has been known to end more friendships than Monopoly and Mario Kart put together. It shall truly test our bond as companions, only the strongest survive it's trials..” You spoke in a dramatic tone while shuffling the cards and placing the proper numbers out for the both of you. Once you were finished, you placed the extra cards in the middle and looked the Radio Demon square in the eye. “Are you ready?”

“Yes yes,” He replied aloofly. “There isn't any possible way this silly game could cause such a staggering amount of broken relationships. I refuse to believe it's that bad.’

You chuckled bitterly. “You beautiful unsuspecting fool.”

---------------------- ( 2 Hours Later) ---------------------

“That's against the rules!” Alastor hissed underneath his breath as you threw out a fat stack of +2 cards.

“No it's not Alastor, you said you wanted to play stacks and this is how it's played.” You muttered.

The first round between you two consisted of showing Alastor the ropes. The confident man he was, he assured you that the game was easy enough for an infant to play and win effortlessly, especially since he won the first round. You then decide to spice things up by teaching him how to play stacks. He claimed that was easy as well and you allowed him to believe this as the next round consisted of him losing, and so did the next round, and the round after that, and the round after that…

Before you knew it, two hours had gone by and Alastor was determined to beat you at least once. It had gotten so intense that he resorted to taking his tail coat off and even putting his hair up, leaving him in his tight red office shirt and hair that framed his face like the scrumdiddlyumptious being that he was. The sight of his bare arms totally didn't have you blushing up a storm behind your cards.

While he was stewing over his next move, you got to confirm a few fan theories and ogled at his appearance.

Respectfully, of course.

But, the game wasn't over yet. Alastor sat across from you, irritated and with at least eleven cards in his hand, while you had three. The air was tense as he scratched his head and finally decided to throw out a small handful of 8’s, bringing his card count down to five.

Your poker face remained unmoving as you calmly threw out a wild card. “Blue.”

A warble of interference omitted from Alastor's person as his eyes scanned his cards carefully. You were actually surprised at how the tables had turned personality wise. In the beginning, it was Alastor who was calm and collected, but every loss slowly chipped away at the pride that fueled his unwavering persona. His usual smile was now looking more forced, making his disdain obvious.

Throwing out a blue card, you threw out two on top, leaving you with one card as you stated that dreadful word. “Uno.”

With a growl, Alastor tossed out a draw +4. “Red.” He stated blandly. A quick glance at the clock let him know he was late for a meeting with Charlie, but formalities be damned because he was going to win this game.

You took your cards quickly and deemed your hand an amazing one. He replied by tossing out a 2 and leaving three cards left. Victory was close and he swore that once he won he would ‘kindly’ rub it in your face.

But, just as you had been doing for these past five rounds, you had an ace up your sleeve. You tossed out the red ‘Skip’ card, costing Alastor a vital turn that could have turned the tables, only to metaphorically slap him in the face by cheering “Uno!” and dropping your final cards in the middle of the messy deck.

He suppressed a scream of irritation as you did your little victory dance, glaring at you both with gaiety and pure spite. He stood up and snapped his coat back on and his hair back down, he pinched your cheek just a little too hard. “That's enough cutting a rug darling, especially for someone that has two left feet such as yourself.”

“Stop trying to cease my dancing, I must wiggle out my joy.”

With a roll of his eyes, he tuned the radio on to his station to prepare to go back home. “Well you can dance until your heart's content, unfortunately I have to return back home to handle some business.”

Immediately your uncoordinated movements stopped, as you frowned. “Oh, right..”

Part of him felt bad. Not that he would tell you outright, but he didn't exactly want to leave you behind either. The thoughts of what your father could do unannounced made him concerned for your safety, but there wasn't anything he could do. Instead, he smiled genuinely and lifted your gaze up with his finger.

“Chin up, dearest. I shall check on you tomorrow as always and don't forget, you still need to make up your mind about what you want from the options presented to you.”

You didn't reply verbally, but you did nod your head sadly which would have to be enough for now. As he prepared to walk off, he was suddenly stopped by a tight embrace from behind. Anyone else who would have ever dared to think of such a thing would have been a splatter on the wall and he was just about to give you a kind yet serious talk about personal space until he felt something wet soaking through his clothes.

“..Thank you.” You mumbled through the fabric. Inhaling his scent as you sniffled and tried to calm down, honestly you were surprised he didn't push you off.

As mentioned before, emotions were not Alastor's think nor was physical affection. However in this moment, with you crying lightly and hugging him as if he were your only hope of survival, he decided that maybe, just this once, he would let it slide.

For his comfort, you didn't allow the hug to last longer than a minute. Once you pulled away you were embarrassed to say the least and prepared for him to possibly scold or never talk to you again. But, to your surprise, he simply pat your head and whispered, “Sleep tight, cher.”and was gone with a blink of your eyes.

To say you were sad was an understatement, but you knew that he'd be back tomorrow like he was everyday. The idea of talking to him tomorrow. To hear his voice in real time, talking to you and to offer comfort because he actually cared made your heart pound in your chest. As much as you didn't want to think this way, you couldn't help it. He seemed so concerned about you, in a way that no one else has until now.

You did your best to still your beating heart as you began to clean up your fun from earlier, only to find your cards were missing. You looked everywhere and still couldn't find them, ultimately you claimed into bed and decided that maybe Alastor snapped them somewhere you'd never find so that he wouldn't have to loose, I mean, play anymore.

Meanwhile…

“Alastor you're late!” Vaggie snapped as he came waltzing down the stairs, following her to where the rest of the group sat waiting.

“I am aware Vagatha, I was busy doing something else.” He replied calmly, only to make the fallen angel more irritated. “Whatever, I hope you brought something because it's your turn for a group activity today..”

“But of course! How could I forget?” He smiled impishly, before pulling out a red box with a familiar word on it. Once with the rest of the residents, Alastor clapped his hands together and pulled out a chalkboard seemingly out of nowhere.

“For today's activity being hosted by yours truly, we shall all be playing a game suited for bonding and the strengthening of relationships,” He beamed, writing out the title of the game in big letters for everyone to see.

“The name of the game is...UNO!"

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

(Thank you for coming back for Chapter 3# of this story! I hope you stick around for the next one because I plan to make it the last. I've been so busy with life and stuff, it's kinda hard to find time or motivation to write, but I do want this to come to a close while still making room for a bit of fun between Al and the Reader.

For those who asked me to make a tag list, I'm not entirely sure how to 😅. Though I will try to figure it out for the next time I write a short story. Don't forget to leave your opinions behind in the comments and thank you for all the love you guys give me, it means a lot 💜

Stay Tuned! :D

Taglist: @twistedvanillacoffee @diffidentphantom @boldlyenchantingfox22

[beccacoffindaffer]

Even Gods Need Miracles

Notes:

It's Veilguard Day, and I've been understandably consumed with Solas and Solavellan. Given that the Inquisition lasted at least a year, it's likely that their relationship spanned months, and it felt like there was a lot of space to play and explore moments that may have happened between the game's missions and cut scenes. Content warning for non-explicit on-page sex. The elvish I use in here is either taken from the game or entirely the credit of FenxShiral's incredible Project Elvhen, on AO3. Translations are at the bottom.

That's it! I hope you enjoy!

He thinks about the kiss in the Fade more than he should.

Her fingertips tracing along his jaw. The warm press of her mouth against his. His shock at the spark of desire that flared inside him in response. 

And then she had pulled away, the shade of worry in her eyes, like she was unsure of the boldness of what she’d just done, and that desire had burned in his chest. He had moved without thinking, tugging her back into him, deepening the kiss until her lips parted.

He is no stranger to the physical act of sex; in the courts of his youth, he had been quite the consort of it, hotblooded and cocky, delighting in the feel of being desired, but nothing more than that. It had been passing fancies; nothing like this. This want. 

He has never wanted before. 

He tries to pin down where these feelings started, hoping that by discovering the source he might also find a cure. Of course he had noticed that she was attractive, graceful and powerful in a fight in ways he loved to watch, but many were beautiful and powerful without holding any temptation for him. If she had only been those things, perhaps he would not have…

The little gasp she had made when he captured her mouth with his. The dig of her fingers into his clothes. The heat that had spread low in his stomach at the sensation of her body fitting perfectly against his.

It was at Haven; it had to have started there. With the conversations they’d had, how she’d questioned and challenged and surprised him at every turn. Until he found himself looking for her, hoping at every moment to see her walking toward him. 

Foolish. He retreats to his studies and his painting. He lists every reason why it would be madness to go any farther down this road. He dismisses the exquisite pain pounding in his chest as nothing, a mere passing infatuation.

It will fade soon enough.

* * *

One tomorrow passes. And then another. And another.

It does not fade. It only gets sharper and more consuming. He finds he cannot take his eyes off her whenever she is near. And when she is not, his mind is constantly drifting to her. It is equal parts frustrating and fascinating, wondering how anyone functions with this terrible feeling taking up all the space in their chest. 

They travel Thedas, and he notices how she sags under the weight of her responsibilities when she thinks no one is watching. The lives that she must guide and shepherd. Every decision, a crossroad and a tipping point.

It pains him to see her like that. He knows those feelings intimately, in a way no one else in the Inquisition can.

Most nights during their travels, he sits up by the fire, too restless to sleep after everyone else has retired to their tents. And he hears her sometimes, tossing and turning, crying out. Nightmares of Haven, of loss, of war. He slips into her tent and lays a hand feather-light on her forehead, soothing her with a simple spell until she relaxes into peaceful sleep. Then he slips away again, with her never the wiser. 

He sits under the stars and fails in not thinking of her and fails at not naming the emotion burning through him. He has known its name far longer than he can admit to himself.

Love. 

* * *

He has not been in her quarters since the day he kissed her on the balcony and let slip the words that had been written on his heart for weeks. 

Ar lath ma, vhenan.

He isn’t entirely sure why he’s here now. It is late, the snowcapped mountains surrounding them piercing up into a blanket of deepest night and shimmering stars. 

No good decisions are made at this time of night. He should go.

Instead his feet carry him up the stairs to her bedroom. A fire burns in the grate, but the air is chilled and smells of snow. Likely because the balcony doors are thrown open, and she is standing out there, a thick blanket wrapped around her and her head tilted up to the sky.

He steps through the balcony doors, a wry smile on his face. “I suppose catching your death of cold is one way to avoid all the expectations of the Inquisitor.”

She looks over at him with a grin. “It’s so clear tonight. I was foolishly trying to pick out the constellations.” She shrugs, the blanket slipping a little from one of her shoulders, baring her skin. “One of those things I was never good at but always wished I was.”

“I find it difficult to believe that there is anything you are not good at.” He holds out a hand to her. “May I?”

At her nod, he stands behind her, dropping his head down to that bared shoulder so that they’re cheek to cheek. He’s close enough to hear the hitch in her chest as his warm breath brushes against her neck. Curling his hand around hers, he points their fingers up into the sky, moving with her, his voice low and quiet as he shows her the constellations he can find up there. The Maiden. The Thunderbolt. The Oak. The Watchful Eye. 

And yet only half his mind is on the stars. He is too aware of every place his body connects with hers, of how she leans back into him, of her racing heartbeat pulsing against the underside of her wrist, as fast and hard as his own.

No good decisions are made at this time of night.

When he runs out of visible constellations, he straightens, clearing his throat awkwardly, and pulls the edge of the blanket back up over her shoulder. “You’re shivering. We should go inside.”

She doesn’t object, and he follows her from the balcony, closing the doors behind him to shut out the cold. The chill in the room lingers, though, and she moves to the fireplace, the light from the flames dancing over her face. He ought to say now that he’ll leave her to get some rest, but he can’t bring himself to do it.

“Solas,” she says after a moment, looking up. “I’m glad you’re here. That you came, I mean. I feel as if you’ve been avoiding me, even after…” Her eyes flick to the balcony briefly and then away.

He shakes his head as he joins her in front of the fireplace. “I am sorry, vhenan. It is not you. I am unused to feeling like this.” He can smell the faint traces of the perfumed oil she likes to wear. The soft orange glow of the fire flickers across the bare skin of her throat. He wants to kiss her there. He wants to kiss her everywhere. It’s intoxicating. “Every time I’m near you, it is like I am unraveling.”

She steps even closer, even as everything in him sings that it isn’t close enough. They are toe to toe, her chest nearly brushing his, and it is still too far. “In a good way or a bad way?”

“Good,” he admits with a little smile. His hand drifts to her face, lightly touching her cheek and her jawline, thumb skimming along the line of her bottom lip. “But also terrifying.”

Her face is only a few inches from his. Her face is his entire world. One in which he has no other cares or claims but the ones he chooses for himself. Where he is simply Solas.

He just wants to be Solas for tonight.

He takes a breath, but it is shallow and shaky. As if he cannot breathe properly. “I should go.”

Her gaze drops to his mouth and her lips part ever so slightly. The heat of that look hits his blood like a lightning strike. “If that’s what you want.”

It isn’t. Tell me to stay. “I must leave. It is not appropriate. Me, coming to you like this, in the middle of the night – ”

“Solas.” She presses her fingers lightly to his lips, stopping his words. He can barely hear her over the racing beat of his heart. “I don’t think I’ve been unclear about my feelings for you. But I also don’t want to make you uncomfortable – ”

It is too much. His resolve breaks, and he kisses her, hard and desperate, cutting her off before she can give him an excuse. He does not want an excuse. 

He simply wants.

Isalan hima sa i’na.

She wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, her lips opening to his, exploring, consuming. Or being consumed. Or both. 

The blanket falls from her shoulders to the floor, leaving her only in her nightclothes. Thin, barely anything. But still too much. He slips it from her body without breaking the kiss, her own hands pushing and pulling at his pants, at his shirt, shedding layers as they move backward and tumble onto the bed.

She is beneath him, her fingers digging into the muscles of his back, and he has never known a hunger like this. He kisses every part of her body, drinks her in like a book, like a font of lost knowledge, like a vision in the Fade. Let him be a scholar of the hollow of her throat and the lines of her hips, every sensitive spot that makes her cry out and clutch him tighter. Let him be an expert in the feel of her and the expression on her face when she pulls him into her, how she looks at him with such desire and love that he could drown in it. This is the only wisdom that matters to him now.

Ar lath ma.

She whispers the words against his skin, breathes his name into every kiss. It feels like a miracle or even a prayer. Not to the Dread Wolf. Not to a distant god, beloved but not loved, worshiped but not known. But to him, warm and real and present and moving inside her, his head buried against the curve of her neck as the pleasure builds and builds and then breaks and they’re left breathless, face-to-face, her legs still wrapped around him. She is flushed, eyes bright, a sheen of sweat on her forehead and cheekbones, along her collarbone and breast.

She has never been so beautiful.

She traces a finger along the line of his ear. “If that’s what you leaving is like, I can’t wait to see what it’s like when you intend to stay.”

He laughs softly, dropping his forehead to hers, so close that their noses touch and their breath mingles. 

“You are, though? Staying, I mean?” The note of wary caution in her voice makes him lift his head, see the slight shadow in her eyes. 

If she knew how he truly felt, how he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to leave this embrace, let alone this bed or this room… But of course, she doesn’t know because he has been holding her so desperately at bay. 

Foolish again. As if he had any power to deny the tide.

“Ame amahn,” he says and kisses her. “I do not think I could drag myself away.”

* * *

To fall, after that, is such a simple thing. As easy as breathing. 

He laces his fingers through hers as they walk the lands. He retires to her tent with her at night and sleeps beside her. She does not seem to have nightmares anymore when he is there.  

At Skyhold, he pulls her away into shadowed alcoves, stealing kisses for no other reason than it makes her laugh and he loves to feel her smiling against his lips. He is by her side, too, when the mantle of the Inquisitor grows too heavy, and he helps her bear it. Just for a little while.

It is effortless, being with her. It is joy in a melody he’s never heard before, ringing so loud in his chest that everything else fades into the background. And in those moments when he is by himself and the guilt and the burden and the obligations slip through to cut him, remind him of his own mission, of the secrets he is keeping from her, it is a simple thing to reason them away.

This isn’t the moment to come clean; she has too much on her shoulders already. And besides, there is nothing to be done anyway until Corypheus is dealt with. There is no harm in being with her until then, of letting himself live in this joy until then.

Tomorrow perhaps, he tells himself. Tomorrow, I will share everything.

* * *

His favorite moments are the nights they spend together in Skyhold. 

Sometimes those nights are hungry and yearning, tangled limbs and heated kisses and skin moving against sweat-slicked skin. But many times, they simply lie together, the moonlight painting the planes of her body in silver, her head on his chest, hair brushing across his bare skin. He lets his fingertips lazily trace the lines of her as she tells him about her clan and her childhood or plies him with questions about his studies and his experiences, always curious, always insightful, always surprising him with her unexpected perspectives. 

Often she teases him until she manages to pull a smile or a laugh from him. So often, in fact, that his face starts to get used to the movement for the first time in centuries. 

In the dark of nights like that, after she has fallen asleep curled against him and the only things he can hear are the crackle of the fire and the soft rhythm of her breathing, he plays a game with himself called Perhaps.

Perhaps my plan went wrong for a reason…

Perhaps there is a different solution I am not seeing…

Perhaps I don't have to walk away from this…

Perhaps he can choose his own happiness. Just this once. 

* * *

The last night he spends with her in Skyhold, they walk the Fade together. By her request, he has been teaching her how, showing her his favorite places, demonstrating how he pulls at the magic to see visions of the past, introducing her to spirits that have become friends. She is especially drawn to spirits of Compassion, he suspects because of her affection for Cole.

If he had only known what was to come after, he would have stayed there with her. He would have held her in his arms until dawn pulled them from their dreams and then made love to her until night fell again. 

But he doesn’t know. So they get up the next morning and set out from Skyhold.

To the Temple of Mythal. Where everything changes. 

Everything he has been avoiding, everything that has grown distant to him in the past months, blinded as he was by the bright, sudden dawn of her – it becomes starkly clear once more. 

He is not Solas. He is not his own creature, free to choose. 

He is the Dread Wolf. And the Dread Wolf is bound to his vows and to his people and to his fate.

When they return to the keep, he strategizes, trying to find a way to tell her the truth. As if it is a puzzle he can solve – the right words in the right order to unlock his chest of secrets without him losing her – the one thing he has ever wanted for himself.

But in the end, he tells her nothing. He flees from her arms with their last kiss still imprinted on his lips. Because he is a fool and a coward. Because he fears she will reject him, but even more than that, he is terrified she will not. That her open and compassionate spirit will understand his guilt and his burdens all too well, and she will want to stay with him, support him. And the thought of that is more than he can bear.

He is already lost. He will not be a millstone around her neck as well.

* * *

He shatters her.

He knows that he shatters her because he’s shattered himself, too. And he continues to splinter into pieces over and over, shadowing her movements in Skyhold, following her on her missions for the Inquisition, watching her from afar. Seeing the pain and grief in her face and the lines of her body that he put there. Unable to touch her, to comfort her. Not anymore. Not ever again.

He tells himself that he is there because he must keep an eye on her. That she needs to be protected so that she can defeat Corypheus and he can reclaim the orb. But that is a lie of omission.

Ame amahn. He cannot drag himself away from her. Not yet.

* * *

The Dread Wolf has agents throughout Thedas, eyes in every village, ballroom, and royal court from Seheron to the Sundered Sea. 

But there is one report that he anticipates most. And those agents have arrived just now to see him.

“And?” Fen’Harel is a general. He uses no preambles. Though it is a struggle to sound cool and disinterested with pain and anticipation tightening his throat. “What news of the Inquisitor?”

One of the agents stands a little straighter. “Still down in Ferelden. At that sanctuary. The one for the former templars.”

Still. How many weeks has she been there? The Inquisition has long since disbanded. What business would keep her there for so long? “Anything else of note?”

“She is often with that former soldier friend of hers,” the other adds. “Makes it difficult to get too close. He’s always around, almost like a bodyguard.”

Like a besotted puppy more like. Jealousy twists in his chest, and his words come out sharper than he intends. “And? Is he a bodyguard? Or something more?”

The agents exchange a glance. “I’m sorry, Solas,” the first agent says. “We aren’t entirely sure.”

“Then go make sure.” He turns his back to them, bracing his hands on a table scattered with scrolls and scraps of paper. “You never know what bit of information might be useful to us. Notify me by raven immediately if anything changes.”

Once the agents are gone, his shoulders sag and he brings his hands up to his face, rubbing at his eyes. He revealed far more of himself than he should. There are spies within spies and networks within networks all over this world. If he cannot be more guarded, he may inadvertently hand them a weapon to be used against him.

His eyes stray to his bed, and he wishes it could be night. Not because he is tired – although he is – but because he can at least see her then. Be with her from a distance in their dreams. She has stopped calling out to him when she sees the wolf in her shadow, but she does not shun him either or ask him to leave. She walks the paths of the Fade and pauses whenever he falls too far behind, as if reluctant to lose him even if she never looks at him. So he stays. He returns to her time and again.

Ame amahn.

He should not keep doing this. It is so painful, and yet the thought of not seeing her at all spears him deeper still.

It isn’t fair. To her or himself. He will stop. 

Tomorrow perhaps. Tomorrow, he will stop.

* * *

The dust settles on the remnants of the Evanuris. Dead and defeated, though not by his hand. All around him, a changed world, perhaps even a better world, though in a form he had not imagined. He stands at the end of a path he thought would surely mean his doom, and yet he lives. No vows or claims on him; he is no one’s creature but his own now, and he is unsure of how he should feel.

“Solas.”

Her voice. It ripples through him in a way that makes him weak, and it takes him a long moment to steady himself enough to turn around and face her.

In some ways, she looks exactly the same to him as she did ten years ago. And in other ways, she is even more achingly beautiful, the spirit inside her that draws him so much deepened by time and wisdom and experience.

Sorrow, too, though. And loss.

His doing.

She is dressed in no uniform, no frills or adornments. Simple garments of supple leather and cloth that fit her well. He has always preferred her like this.

Her expression, though – that is unfamiliar. Cold and guarded. Wary. Like he is her enemy and not…

“Vhenan.” The word comes out in a reverent murmur. As it should. He has not said it aloud in years. He will never say it to anyone but her.

Her eyebrows lift slightly, surprised. Or maybe skeptical. “Still?”

“Always.” He lowers his eyes, unable to look at her any longer. The great Fen’Harel terrified at what he might see on his lover’s face. “And you?” 

He has no right to ask. Not after everything. But he has to ask anyway. The silence stretches between them, getting heavier with each passing second, pulling him down with it. Ten years is a long time. And his betrayal ran so deep. It is foolish to even consider otherwise. Not with a heart and a spirit like hers that could claim anyone else as a partner. 

At last, she moves, closing the distance between them, reaching her hand to touch his chin and pull his gaze up to hers. The ice in her expression has melted away, her eyes now soft and bright with feeling. “Var lath vir suledin. You may have left me, Solas, but I never left you.”

His fingers ache to touch her, but he can’t bring himself to do it. “That is far more than I deserve.”

Her lips curl upward, the same, knowing half-smile she always made when teasing him. It is a relief to know she can still smile at him like that. “We can certainly agree on that.”

“The things I’ve done, vhenan, the things I tried to do… I am not worthy of your love.”  

“So you say.” Her fingertips trace along his jaw, guiding his face closer to hers. “And yet it is yours anyway.”

Her mouth, warm against his. The little gasp she makes when he finally reaches for her, pulling her tight to his body, marveling at how perfectly she still fits against him. His hand, cradling her face, slipping into her hair. 

It feels like a miracle. 

But then again, that’s what she’s always been.

Notes:

Ame amahn. - I am here (credit: FenxShiral) Isalan hima sa i’na. - I lust to become one with you (credit: FenxShiral) Ar lath ma. - I love you (credit: DA:I) Vhenan. - Heart/My heart (credit: DA:I) Var lath vir suledin. - Our love will endure (credit: DA:I)

[eddiemunsonsmiddlefingers]

I was looking through my fic notes because I'm poking around at my long fic again (how has it been almost a year? oh my God) when I found this fix-it snippet that I will never finish, but personally like too much to let rot in a folder unseen. The assumption is that instead of going to the Creel house, the Party is trying to go directly to the Upside Down to fight Vecna there.

Enjoy?

---

Robin often questions her life choices.

Joining band? Good choice. 

Trying to kiss Jenny McNeil in 8th grade? Bad choice.

Getting a job at Scoops Ahoy? Really bad choice, because that’s what led to a long list of terrible events she would prefer to selectively forget. Not that she can do that, really, but you know. She can daydream sometimes.

The thing is, she’s currently sitting in a stolen Winnebago with Steve Harrington in the driver’s seat. That would be fine, given that becoming his best friend was one of her better decisions, except he’s hauling ass in reverse, his body painfully twisted around so he can see out the back window. He’s chanting “shit, shit, shit,” but as frantic as the words are, his hands are confident and his face has settled into a sort of calm determination that Robin knows all too well. She’s seen it before and knows what it means.

He thinks we’re going to die. She wishes she didn’t know Steve quite that well, but then again there are a lot of things she wishes she didn’t know right about now. That includes the fact that she, too, thinks they’re going to die. She could do without that thought for sure.

“Could you get us the hell out of here sometime this year, Steve?” Dustin is clinging to his seat opposite Robin, his eyes fixed on the strobing lights and angry mob visible through the windshield. He’s scared and angry all at once; Robin can practically feel him revving up to start yelling. 

“Can it Henderson,” Eddie says. He’s crouched behind the driver’s seat, his entire body folded in on itself to stay out of Steve’s way. He reminds Robin of a gargoyle with his dark clothes, tightly-coiled muscle, and ringed fingers clutching at his knees. “Stevie needs to concentrate or there won’t be enough of our remains left for the cops to care about.”

“That’s a bit—” Lucas loses what he’s about to say as they swerve around a corner and come to a screeching stop, “—morbid.” He looks behind them, at the concrete wall literally inches from his face, then turns back looking a little green. “Got it.”

“Hang on,” Steve says as he falls back in his seat and wrenches the wheel to the left. 

A moment later everyone is tumbling over each other as gravity shifts from front to back and they barrel forward. There are people running after them at first; Robin is pretty sure she sees Ms. O’Donnell carrying an actual pitchfork next to a kid named Lenny who used to talk her ear off about Star Wars every other day at Family Video. He has a hunting knife in one hand and a torch in the other tonight, and he’s yelling something she can’t hear. Monsters from an alternate dimension have nothing on the surreal impact of seeing her neighbors armed to the teeth and roving the streets like bloodthirsty lunatics. At least Robin isn’t the only one making terrible choices these days. It’s a small comfort, but it will have to do.

“There is no way we’re getting to my place through that crap.”

Eddie’s stating the obvious, as far as Robin’s concerned. They’ve tried every possible approach and been blocked at every one. Their options are give up or give in, and the latter isn’t truly an option at all. She’s relieved to see Lucas and Nancy nodding agreement. Dustin looks conflicted, but after a moment his chin jerks up as well. 

“Okay, so we’ll go to the lake,” Steve says.

“Can’t do that,” Erica calls from the very back where she’s sitting by Lucas.

“What, why?” Robin catches Steve’s eyes in the rearview mirror as he speaks; he looks tired and harassed, maybe ten seconds from a complete meltdown. “It’s massive; they can’t guard every inch of it.”

“The water would ruin our gear,” Nancy says. “No firepower, no fight.” Her lower lip is chewed pink and puffy and her eyes are somehow even bigger than usual, but she has her hands wrapped around her shotgun with confident ease.

“No music, no protection,” Lucas adds. He and Max aren’t going to the Upside Down, but he has a point. What if Vecna grabs one of them like he grabbed Max and Nancy? The Walkman tucked inside Robin’s vest suddenly feels much heavier. 

“That about covers it,” Erica acknowledges in a magnanimous tone.

“God damn it.” Steve drums his hands on the wheel as he guides them around a corner and into relative darkness. 

Dustin sits up suddenly. “We’re forgetting something.” Everyone looks at him and he rolls his eyes. “The reporter guy Nancy mentioned, remember? Frank.”

“Fred.”

“Right, Fred. Vecna took him, so there would be a gate where he died.”

“That’s practically on top of Forest Hills,” Steve says. “Crawling with angry locals and cops, remember? Not exactly accessible.”

Nancy straightens, her lips pursed in a way that indicates thinking cap on. “If we can find it fast enough, we might be okay. The police are more interested in catching a perverted mass-murderer—”

“Harsh,” Steve interjects, dry as old popcorn.

“—Than in guarding a cold crime scene, so—”

“—So let them have me and use the distraction to get to the gate.” Eddie starts out confident, but his voice breaks mid-sentence and then he’s burying his face in his hands with an odd strangled noise. “Jesus.”

“What? No!” Steve yelps. The RV lurches to the side as his head whips around. 

Robin lands on her knees next to Eddie before she even realizes she got up. “Hey,” she says, awkwardly patting at his arms, his shoulders, his hair and back. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, has no idea what to say, but Steve needs to drive and Dustin’s yelling at Nancy, and no one else is moving, so she’ll have to figure it out. “We’ve been over this, dingus. We’re not giving you up.”

“If you don’t, I will,” he whispers, looking up at her from behind the fingers caging his face. His cheeks are streaked with tears, and damn, Robin is really out of her depth here. “Chrissy’s family deserves justice and admit it, won’t you? My future’s looking pretty bleak.”

Nancy and Dustin’s voices clash in the background.

“Take a number and have a seat. Everyone’s future is looking pretty bleak right now,” Robin says. She hears Steve huff a pained sort of laugh. “We aren’t going to turn you in, and we won’t let you do it on your own, either. We kick Henry-Vecna-One’s slimy ass. Together. Then we sort out the rest. Also together.” 

She keeps talking, the words washing over one another. She wishes Eddie would stop crying. She wishes they were literally anywhere but hurtling toward certain death in a Winnebago that smells like stale smoke and armpits. She wishes she’d never even heard of the Upside Down, because maybe then she’d be hiding under her bed instead of talking down a guy who used to scare the living shit out of her. She sort of wishes Eddie still did—scare her that is—because at least that would make sense.

“If Hawkins can buy Will Byers coming back from the grave, it can deal with Eddie Munson being significantly less freaky than they thought he was. Jury’s out on whether your ego will survive, but you’re going to be fine. We’re all going to be fine,” she finds herself saying and yup, it’s time to stop talking because she’s officially hit the babbling phase.

Eddie unfolds without warning, arms spreading wide. The next thing Robin knows, she’s toppling into a hug that is somehow aggressively tight and shockingly gentle at the same time. She braces herself for an awkward come on, the sort of gratitude-driven romantic garbage that Harrington of yore once tried to pull, but all she gets is Eddie’s voice in her ear, husky and sincere as he whispers, “thanks, Buckley.” 

He squeezes her shoulders, then helps Robin settle against the opposite wall with a small smile and oddly business-like hands. He doesn’t like me like that, Robin thinks with bewildered certainty. It’s strange to feel such profound relief when every other part of her life is an active shit show, but she isn’t about to question it.

“Okay buttheads, show’s over,” Eddie declares as he shoves himself upright, visibly collecting the fraying edges of his dignity about him. He makes a show of pushing his hair back and adjusting his bandana; when he looks up, the only sign he’d been crying is the red rimming his eyes. “If any of you brats say a word about this, I’m burning your character sheets and confiscating your dice,” he adds, extending a threatening finger at Dustin, Lucas, and Erica.

The boys tumble over each other reassuring him, but Erica puts her hands on her hips and tilts her head to one side. “What makes you think I care?”

“You wound me,” Eddie says, eyes going comically wide. “What is our party without Lady Applejack the Nimble?”

“I want better gear.” 

“As you wish, my lady.” Eddie flourishes one arm in an awkward seated bow. “When our battle is won, we shall discuss your arms for the next campaign.”

“It better be damn good…jackass.” 

“Language!” Steve exclaims, sounding exactly like a middle-aged mother about to turn this car around, damn it.

Erica flips him off with a wide grin, and chaos ensues.

“What’s next?” Dustin asks as things begin to quiet down. When everyone looks at him, he heaves an exaggerated sigh and starts ticking points off on his fingers. “We can’t go to Eddie’s place. We can’t go to Lover’s Lake. We aren’t sacrificing Eddie to find the other gate.” He glares first at Nancy, then at Eddie. “By now the police also know this thing is stolen, they know Eddie’s in it, and they know Steve is driving. They may even know we have weapons if someone at the War Zone bothered to tell them.”

“Looks like Steve’s a felon after all,” Max comments out of nowhere, a sly smile dancing across her face. “How are you getting out of this one, jailbird?” Lucas snort-laughs, and Max’s smile grows until her teeth are showing and her eyes are scrunched up in glee. 

“Hide,” Steve says decisively. His body shifts and the RV skids to a stop. It’s dark outside, but Robin’s pretty sure she can see trees.

“Hate to break it to you Harrington, but the police can find this piece of shit far easier on the side of the road than they can while it’s moving,” Eddie drawls around the cigarette he just put between his lips. He lights it, inhales, then blows the smoke toward the front seat as he tucks his lighter away. “And they can definitely catch us faster.”

Steve rounds on them, running a hand through his hair with the same energy a starving man might attack a burger and fries. “We aren’t staying here, dumbass. This is Murkywood, or whatever it’s called. The Byers’ old place is about twenty minutes away if we cut through the forest.” 

“Isn’t that a bit, well, obvious?” Nancy asks, frowning. “Will is their friend and I mean…Jonathan…” She does an odd gesture at her chest rather than finishing the sentence.

Steve reaches down and plucks the cigarette from Eddie’s hand, takes a drag, then passes it back as he looks from one kid to the next. “Have any of you dickheads been playing at the Byers house since they left?”

Robin is too preoccupied with the front row seat she has to whatever the hell is going on with Eddie’s face to hear their response. Eddie is staring at his cigarette like it sprouted horns or something, brows drawn together as he rolls it back and forth between his thumb and forefinger. When he realizes she’s watching, he jams the filter in his mouth and looks away. 

Huh. 

Steve’s voice penetrates Robin’s churning thoughts. “Get it together kids, we’re going for a walk.”

[sshbpodcast]

Bottom Five Star Trek ENT Episodes

by Ames

Everyone’s allowed to admit they’re wrong sometimes, and your hosts here at A Star to Steer Her By take back a lot of the credit we’ve given to Star Trek: Enterprise over the years. Guys, we’re sorry to say: it’s just not that good a show. And sure, there are a couple beacons of hope in the darkness, but as a full series it doesn’t capitalize on its merits nearly as often as it should, and the mixed messages can be frankly insulting.

From the terrible theme song, to the constant sexualization of T’Pol, to the strange characterization of its captain as just an angry angry man, to whatever the hell went horribly wrong with the third season, there’s a lot to turn your nose up at. So cringe along with us as we give the big thumbs down to the worst episodes of the show as you read along below and listen to our banter over on the podcast (jump to 1:32:58 for the series wrap) where guest star Liz provides some added flavor. It turns out we really didn’t have faith of the heart after all!

[images © CBS/Paramount]

“Bounty”: Caitlin While the A plot of this episode with the Tellarite bounty hunter is perfectly serviceable, it’s the B plot that warrants a place on this list. For no goddamn reason, T’Pol is going through pon farr, a plot device we’ve been railing against for years. Okay, there was a reason after all: to sexually exploit T’Pol as this show is wont to do as much as it can get away with. It’s just disgusting how much Enterprise makes Jolene Blalock run around in her underwear just to titillate the teenage boys they really wanted to appeal to.

“Carpenter Street”: Jake What a waste of time. Literally! It may not have specifically made our worst time travel stories list, but it’s definitely pointless to force us to watch such a boring and convoluted romp around present-day Detroit to stop some Xindi from something or other. Really, anything in the Temporal Cold War arc is a hot mess. And combining that with the Xindi War makes it all the more baffling. Further, opting to bring T’Pol of all people back in time is a terrible decision, Archer. You’re lucky you have plot immunity, cap’n.

“Damage”: Chris “I’m about to step over a line, a line I thought I would never cross. And given the nature of our mission, it probably won’t be the last,” says Archer, nineteen episodes into season three. After he has not only crossed the line countless times, but shat on it and did a little jig. In the shit. So claiming that it’s not until he steals a warp coil from the Illyrians that he’s crossed the line is just blatant hypocrisy. Oh, and this is also the episode where we learn T’Pol is a drug addict for purely illogical reasons. What a shitshow.

“Harbinger”: Ames Oh hey, you know what was one of the previous horrible things Archer did before “Damage” but apparently didn’t count as “crossing the line”? Torturing a random sphere builder he found even though he had no proof this guy was bad. At fucking all. And there’s more shit to this episode! It’s got Reed being a big baby because he unfoundedly thinks Hayes wants his job. It’s got T’Pol being a big baby because she thinks Trip might like Amanda Cole instead of her. Everyone’s just a big baby this episode!

“Cogenitor”: Chris Frequently, Enterprise gets the ethical lesson you’d expect out of a Star Trek episode entirely backwards. This is one of those times. Trip spends the episode standing up for an oppressed person who has requested sanctuary, but Archer doesn’t want to risk the new best friendship he’s made with their people, so he throws Charles back to the wolves where they inevitably kill themself. And somehow Trip is supposed to be the baddie? Not Archer, who doesn’t even feel guilty? What message are we trying to send?

“Dear Doctor”: Ames Oh look, another time Enterprise puts its ethics on backwards and inside out. This utterly infuriating episode turns Archer and Phlox into genocidal monsters who then pat themselves on the back afterwards for handling the situation so diplomatically. Phlox should be ashamed of himself for being a doctor who spreads misinformation about how evolution works, and when Archer tries to question him, convinces the captain of his deplorably bad science. He HAS the cure, and refuses to save an entire race. It’s vomit inducing.

“Broken Bow”: Caitlin The whole series starts off on the wrong foot with a pilot episode that’s just a hot mess. The plot is almost unfollowable because there are just so many elements to keep track of. None of them interesting. In the very first few scenes alone: the time travel nonsense is just confounding; with maybe the exception of Trip, none of the characters holds our attention; and when we’re not confused by whatever’s going on, we’re just bored, which is a huge sin for a series premiere.

“Precious Cargo”: Caitlin, Jake We start seeing some overlap from your hosts in the episodes that are truly truly terrible. This disgusting retread of “The Perfect Mate,” which was disgusting enough on its own, is further tainted by some really shoddy acting from our First Monarch, a laughable portrayal of Archer and T’Pol incompetently playing good cop / bad cop, and a romance subplot so forced that we couldn’t even enjoy watching two very pretty people going to town on each other because we were rolling our eyes too hard!

“Hatchery”: Ames, Caitlin Don’t worry, we have more bad ethics the show is spouting to go through before the end of this list! For a hot second, it seems like Archer is doing the right thing and trying to save Insectoid hatchlings because it’s the moral thing to do, even in war, and everyone else is wrong to mutiny against him. But we should not have had that level of faith in this show. Instead, Archer’s mind has been manipulated by some goo or other, of course! He was wrong to want to save innocent babies! And he’s the hero of this show, FFS.

“These Are the Voyages…”: Caitlin, Chris, Jake The taste the show leaves in your mouth, when all is said and done, is whatever Chef Riker cooked up in the unexpected series finale. Making the last episode a de facto TNG episode is the wrong choice, as it strips away the ownership of the show from the actual characters as if punishing them for being bad. In fact, they don’t even technically appear in the finale at all because they’re a program on the holodeck! And to kill off Trip – the fan favorite character! – so unceremoniously! Did they hate their own fans?

“Fusion”: Ames, Chris, Jake Like Deanna Troi and Seven of Nine before her, T’Pol gets to get violated for the sake of an episode – and a bad episode at that! We’re already pretty sick of watching the women characters have their agency stripped away all the time because the story tells them so. So to watch the usually strong-willed science officer forced out of her comfort zone and used as a plaything by the worst Vulcan we’ve met (redemption for Vorik, I guess?) is just torture to watch. And the asshole sees no consequences either! Ugh!

“Bound”: Ames, Chris, Jake Like in DS9’s “Profit and Lace,” an attempt to seem progressive backfires so abysmally that we’re appalled by its tone deafness. It’s okay that Orion women are enslaved as sex workers because they’re secretly in charge! The episode treats that perplexing retcon like it’s female empowerment, while simultaneously turning all the men into drooling idiots whenever a woman is around. And unlike TAS’s “The Lorelei Signal,” the women crew members don’t even take charge. Trip does! What a slap in the tits.

—

See also: our Top Five Star Trek Enterprise Episodes list. And if you want more: here’re all the past seasonal tops and bottoms from seasons 1, 2, 3, and 4!

Well folks, it’s been a long road, but we’re finally done with Enterprise. I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to move on to anything but this, even if that means slogging through the Abramsverse and the streaming era. But at least those shows reward war crimes slightly less. So keep your ears on SoundCloud or whatever podcast platform you like, talk to us through our universal translator on Facebook and Twitter, and go where your heart will take you!

[acourtofthought]

listen I wasn’t sure about Lucien and Elain becoming rulers of a court but I came across some of your posts and I’m nowcompletely on board!!! Especially seeing your post about elain being a hidden boss. Like I totally see it now. She has the qualities of a leader who keeps composure at all times and doesn’t show face, tends to put others needs over their own, wants peace. She is a negotiator !!!

Yeah!!! I'm always happy seeing Elain love in the fandom ❤️

Your last line stands out to me because not only is there canon evidence for it "Feyre gave and gave for years. Let us now help her. Help others" (delivered in a firm though not demanding manner) but I think we're going to find that it's a role she took on well before that, during their childhood.

In SF we have Nesta telling us that she (Nesta) and Feyre had always been at each others throats, arguing back and forth and I think Elain as the middle sister felt she had to try to diffuse that tension by staying somewhat neutral. She's the only sister who maintained a decent relationship with both sisters AND her father for years and that speaks to her ability to see each one of their perspectives. Maybe some think that's a cowardly way of handing things, not standing up and arguing for who or what is right but.....sometimes what is right is not always cut and dry, something I think is evident in this fandom. Some will claim Nesta was in the wrong when it came to Feyre, some say Feyre was in the wrong when it came Nesta. But the truth lies somewhere in the middle and I think a good leader makes an attempt to understand all sides. Where decisions are not made impulsively but after trying to see the varying perspectives.

It's something I think she and Lucien have in common and what will make them a power duo.

Some argue how terrible he was for not standing up to Tamlin more in ACOMAF but they forget why he wasn't as pushy as they think he should have been (and no, it's not just because he was also being abused by Tamlin):

"We need order Feyre. We need rules, and rankings, and order, if we're going to stand a chance of rebuilding. So what he says goes. I am the first one the others look to - I set the example. Don't ask me to risk the stability of this court by pushing back."

Feyre calls Lucien Tamlin's "faithful dog" but is a male worried about the needs of an entire people who spent 50 years terrorized by Amarantha, trying to help them rebuild and figure out how to live, really a "dog"? Did the needs of one female who had only been their world for less than a year really trump that of everyone else?

As the FMC of course we wanted to see everyone bending over backwards for Feyre but that's not really how leadership works. Sometimes a leader hovers in the middle in order to do what is best for the most people rather than to doing what is right for one.

And back to Elain, I think some look at her and consider her weak because she stays in more of a neutral territory but she's shown that when there is a clear answer, she does fight for it. She found a place for the humans during the war. She stood up to Nesta to allow the Human Queens to meet in their home (despite what it meant for Elain's own engagement). She hates violence but was willing to stab the king to save her sister and Cassian.

Isn't attempting neutrality and peace as the initial course of action then taking more decisive action only when necessary a good thing?

She's just not impulsive and outspoken so I think people miss how she's taking everything in before coming to a conclusion, considering all sides and I think that sets her up to be an incredibly fair leader with Lucien (an equally rational and fair character) standing by her side.

I do think there's the need for leaders like Rhys and Feyre within the court system of Prythian, ones who are willing to do whatever is needed to save their world even if it involves burning bridges but I think the downside of that has become clear in the novella and SF. The other courts and those on the continent don't trust them and now that they're working towards peace, they aren't having luck because the others are convinced the NC is out for the NC (even thought the NC is trying to make things fair to some degree, I think them being the keepers of the Trove and Made weapons is going to lead to some being suspicious of them still). So to their more aggressive tactics, you need leaders like Elain and Lucien to balance things out, to smooth out the rough edges left behind by the NC, to help the other courts and continents to see that their needs are also being taken into consideration.

[depressedhatakekakashi]

Thinking about the the worst Hokage, minus Hiruzen is really difficult… it’s a bit like trying to make a mortal rating of characters based on decisions they made when they were in power. Problem with that is assuming that they are above human feelings and bias… No one is going to be completely good or completely evil, and while an improvement may not be perfect it can still be better than the previous situation.

Hashirama made a school to teach kids how to fight, yes. Which was better than what was happening before where they were sent off to “learn” on the battlefield.

Tobirama had very strong prejudices against the Uchiha, which were deeply ingrained in him as a means of survival after a lifetime of fighting against them. He also advanced a lot of the institutions and systems that set Konoha up to thrive.

Minato may not have done much but when faced with a catastrophe, he did his best to minimize the damage and casualties.

Hiruzen (and I say this as really despising him) probably genuinely thought he was doing the right thing when he took over as Hokage again after Minato’s death and in all of the terrible things that happened after.

Tsunade was doing the best she could moving from crisis to crisis but it was also a job that she didn’t want, and she made that known.

I don’t know enough about what Kakashi does as Hokage but there will certainly be things in it that weren’t the best option.

I think that sometime people forget that leaders are human too, capable of making less than perfect decisions or able to turn things into a perfect utopia in just a few years. There is another problem in there where changing people’s takes an incredibly long time and is a very slow and painful process… but I’ve already already dumped a bunch of stuff here.

See i don’t expect any of them to be perfect. I don’t think Kakashi is a ‘perfect Hokage’ as there is no such thing.

But i do hold a certain standard and ‘clan Massacure’ is far below that standard.

Tobirama loses points for admitting he thinks that ‘if the Uchiha clan died to protect Konoha then it’s a good thing’. That’s never an acceptable stance to have. Children were killed and there’s never an acceptable time to agree that it was alright to Massacure children.

As you said Tsunade was just trying to survive and keep the village going for the five years she was in power.

I’ve said it myself, Minato wasn’t Hokage long enough to be a good or bad Hokage. He never got a chance to do anything meaningful.

Kakashi’s time as Hokage are only really addressed in ‘Kakashi Retusden’ so you’d have to read the book, but even he’s bias against himself. Like this man actually did do some meaningful good changes (capture enemies instead if killing and even going so far as having iruka teach him how to knock an enemy out because he’s only ever known to kill. The Acadamy being open to everyone even if they’re not going to be Shinobi and just want to learn things that can help them in their every day life, creating trade agreements with the other villages and helping Konoha become an economic giant instead of just being a shinobi village). Kakashi did all of this and still craps on himself so much that he thinks Minato, a man who had no opportunity to do anything as hokage, was more deserving of a book than him. He also never expected anyone to like him. He thinks about an old woman in Kiri who spit on him during a visit and he holds no anger toward her because he understands people are going to be angry and hurt after all the war. Her son died to a Konoha shinobi and Kakashi accepts her anger being directed at him)

I will say that Tobirama making the system as is is honestly not something i look up to. Like, i know he may not have intended it to be used the way it was, but five year olds at the acadamy learning to fight? Six-ten year olds doing the chunin exams? He set those things up and as someone who was a child soldier for a war against the Uchiha i HATE it. His brother wanted so much better for future generations and Tobirama focused soley on making Konoha a military village and nothing else

[alpimerealmsystem]

Another Interview (With an objectkin!)

I gotta interview an objectkin- way too long ago- but motivation has struck, so enjoy my late night posts (I'm about to go ahead and write a lot y'all) credit to @sufficientlyarmored for answering these questions! Also, seriously I hope others can learn about this stuff the way I now am now that I've gotten to interview people!

Alright so first question: What made you realize you were objectkin and how had it affected you before?

A couple of things connected to each other made me realise that. I was always interested in all things military when I was a kid, and they fascinated me (to a borderline romantic degree). When I was around high school, or near the end of it, my friends were always making comments that I like tanks so much that I want to become one! I took that in stride and jokingly embraced it, not knowing how much actual truth there was in this statement ;) Personal circumstances made me make a, frankly, terrible decision and enlist. My fascination and knowledge of tanks made me go into the direction of armoured fighting vehicles (and I have been there ever since), but there was always something that I was missing. My introduction to otherkin was swift and unproblematic, as I researched the topic I immediately realised that was what I have been feeling all this time. Despite the apparent ‘’seniority’’ I am still new to the community due to me not being online all that often :(

Second question: What's your connection? Spiritual, psychological, anything in between? And how did you come to that conclusion?

As for connection, I think spiritual would be the best term for that! Among my ‘kins I have a few other machines other than the Challenger 2 tank. The only commonality among them is the fact that all of them were destroyed, sunk or dismantled violently. And all of them were machines used primarily for war, violence and such. I like to think that my current existence is a sort of painful purgatory, a payback for all the lives and damage I did previously. Mostly because, well.. no sane machine, a being of metal and precision, would want to become something as soft and damageable as a human, right? The sheer whiplash of simple things not working as intended/expected, or working in such imprecise and wet way is extremely uncomfortable at all times.

Third question (I ask this to everyone cause it's honestly awesome to me): if you experience shifts, what are they like? Are they mental shifts, phantom limbs, etc? If you do get shifts, is there anything specific thing you think is interesting?

My shifts are mostly phantom limbs, from which the most prominent one is a fully-featured Challenger 2 turret (with a 1,5 metre long gun..) instead of my head. It is annoying, big, rigid, heavy and the gun is bumping into everything, as it is unbendable, but I like them even then. They make me remember who I am :)

Fourth and final question: What's your relation to the object you identify as, and what's a reason you think it's so relevant?

My relation is mostly admiration, deep sense of being proud that humanity managed to make something as sophisticated as this, and a weird warped sense of patriotism ;) I think this being relevant is that I both am the object in question, and both work on the objects in question in real life, which makes my experiences all more interesting. Sometimes I am feeling like I am both the human-shaped me, and both the tank-shaped me while standing in front of, well, myself!

[theowritesfiction]

‘The Boiling Rock, Part 2’

I honestly can't believe that after startling Suki in his Fire Nation guard uniform, Sokka does the same to his dad. Sometimes I just don't know what's going on in Sokka's head.

The Maiko confrontation was really good, because it's one of those really well written scenes where I can totally see both sides of the argument. Zuko and Mai are both right and have valid reasons to feel the way they do. Nobody's getting any Jerk Points because of how well this is written. Also, Mai's anger also makes me think about her decision at the end of the episode, and her and Zuko's reunion in the finale. And honestly... I think if Book 4 had happened, the rushed Maiko reunion at the end of Book 3 wouldn't happen. I think they would have taken more time to get back together... if it even happened.

I actually like the prison riot + escaping on the gondola + taking Warden as captive plan! Hakoda helping with it sure helped, but there's still one issue. Gondola only gets you across the lake of steam, right? How do you get off the island, swim?

I have to give props to Chit-Sang for being a pretty awesome guy. Cracking under torture is nothing to be ashamed of. And he knows how to start a prison riot.

'I'm a people person.' the way Azula says it... I love this girl. <3 In this one simple episode Azula demonstrates that she is and never will be a torturer for one simple reason - she does not have to be. That is for incompetent and stupid brutes like the Warden.

But yeah, Suki capturing the Warden... that's one way to impress your future father in law I guess! Well done...

I really want to know what was going through Azula's head when she showed up and gave the gondola that long stare. She definitely meant business more than ever before. Also, if not for the incoming betrayal, watching Azula and Ty Lee chase the captives together would make me consider it as a Tyzula moment. There's also no love lost between Suki and Ty Lee. How is Suki immediately fine with Ty Lee becoming a Kyoshi Warrior in the finale? Also, my first ever ATLA fanfic had Suki/Ty Lee ship, and I think I was totally right to go for it.

Then we have this exchange:

Suki: (glaring at Ty Lee) This is a re-match I've been waiting for.

Zuko: (looking at Azula) Me too.

Excuse me... re-match of WHAT exactly? Azula being super nice to you throughout Book 3? I didn't expect to give anyone Jerk Points in this episode, but you know what? 40 more to Zuzu.

Also, this entire escape plan only works because Azula came to the island in her war balloon. So as I said previously... still kind of a dumb plan that only worked because of sheer luck?

Damn, I'm not going to talk about that betrayal scene, I'm certainly not going to hand out any Jerk Points for it, I'm just feeling very depressed because how terrible and traumatizing that was for everyone involved.

Jerk Points for Book 3:

Zuko - 700 Aang – 280  Ozai - 250 Sokka - 110 Roku - 100 Hide - 80 King Kuei - 60 Toph - 50 Haru - 30

Okay, 6 episodes to go and Zuko's Book 3 lead looks unassailable. I love how unredeemed Zuko had way less Jerk Points...

[nikethestatue]

This isn’t really a shipwar question, but do you believe that the IC treated Nesta bad in Acosf or before Acosf?? It’s like everywhere I go on the internet, people are continuously making Nesta out to be innocent. I think a lot of people forget that Nesta was a bitch to every IC member (almost everyone) before Acosf. Even when the IC did nothing wrong to Nesta. I have never been a big fan of Rhys, but I feel like he was justified in how he treated Nesta in Acosf. Nesta has always loathed the IC way before Acosf, and it pisses me of when people in this fandom try to twist the narrative into the IC being terrible to Nesta first, when it was in fact the opposite.

Nesta was recklessly spending Rhys’ money in Acosf, but she was still being a bitch to him, his mate, and Elain. And Cassian too. Nesta was still treating them bad, but she wanted to benefit from Rhys, like spending all of his money. I am sort of tired of this “woe is me” narrative being spun about Nesta. People are going so far as to say that everybody except for the IC treated Nesta good. They even pointed out how Bryce and the valkyries easily befriended Nesta because Nesta was “never the problem”. The IC did make questionable decisions when it came to not telling Feyre about her deadly pregnancy, but they have always treated Nesta good, even when she was a bitch to them.

I truly have never understood the “Rhys is a villain” in Acosf narrative.

Nesta vs the IC is always a loaded question, and I don't think that there is a right or wrong answer, because everyone was both right and wrong.

Nesta doesn't have an easy personality, no doubt about that. Nesta is also 23-25 years old, vs the infinite wisdom of the High Lord and someone like Amren, who is like 15K years old and supposedly knows everything about everything.

The 'Nesta was spending Rhys's money' argument really doesn't fly with me. We are led to believe that Rhys is a (equivalent to) billionaire many times over. He has a whole floor dedicated to crowns, tiaras and necklaces heavy with diamonds. Nesta went to pubs -- even if she paid for everyone's drinks there, night after night, I doubt that it hardly dented even a bit of Rhys's wealth. Even if nesta spent a million a DAY, it would hardly put a dent in Rhys's wealth. Nesta spent $500. So the money argument is ridiculous. If Rhys and Feyre wanted to show how much they care and whatnot, maybe building a massive mansion 2 months after the war isn't the way to go about it. But whatever, it's their business.

However, Nesta and Elain were turned into Fae, kidnapped and tossed into a war, because of RHys and Feyre. Let's be honest about that too. Feyre brought Rhys and the batboys to her human sisters' mansion, she also told Ianthe all about them. And Nesta, despite her bad attitude, never denied the IC anything. She allowed them to use her, use her magic, whatever they needed, no matter what. She participated in the war, she scried, she volunteered to actually DIE if need be. The immense psychological trauma that she was dealing with after the war was also kind of dismissed. She literally sacrificed 1,000! Illyrians for Cassian. Imagine waking up every morning with the knowledge that you indirectly contributed to the death of 1,000 soldiers.

To me, the fact that these 500+ year old Fae couldn't handle a snappy comeback or an eye roll from a 23 year old human is kind of laughable.

However, do I think that Nesta needed help? Yeah, absolutely. And though the IC went about it as delicately as a bull in a chinashop, it needed to be done. Nesta needed to heal. And she needed to be loved, even if it was just by a House that became sentient.

Finally, I have 2 sisters. Our relationships sometimes become very tense. Sometimes very intense. We get mad at each other. We love each other. We say hurtful things. We help. And on and on it goes. Do I think it's Rhys's place to interfere in her relationship with Feyre? Berate her? Threaten her? Fuck no. If my BIL did that, we'd have some serious issues. Rhys needs to bud out and stop inserting himself where he isn't needed. And let's remember--Nesta made him very very very very very powerful. She can use a mask that can raise armies of the dead and she can make Made weapons that slay death gods. None of the Trove objects technically belong to Rhys, yet Nesta gave them to him.

As much as I like Rhys, I am with Nesta on this.

[p-receh]

Its understandable people to get upset but sometimes the reasons for them to get upset is the wildest thing imaginable

Sonic fandom:

Like there is a good chunk of people that absolutely hate the idw sonic comics, they read it. But they hate it.

But the complaints sometimes are just ridiculous or plain unserious at this point

"This is such a bad character, they're so annoying" and thats the point.

"This character is so mean for no reason what a bitch" and its a regular character flaw plus you're only upset cause its you favs they're being mean too

"Ugh its so different than the games and the characters are all different" its called a different medium.

"Sonic in prime is so annoying the show is awful" ITS A DIFFERENT TAKE ON THE CHARACTER, HAVE YOU SEEN THE OLD SONIC SHOWS

(No but seriously sonic x was a wild ride and Boom was just a nice slice of life hilarious mess)

Bbb fandom:

"They made yaya dumb!" That isn't dumb thats unhinged did you all suddenly forget the original series.. also smart characters can make dumb decisions excuse me.

"X character have so little screentime" get in line with the rest of us, i love Z character and they appear once in a blue moon. Also heres a magical thing you can do, its called ✨️creation✨️ make fan content the way how you'd like the character to be, the power is yours!

"The animated version is nothing like the comics" say that sentence again :), "animated" "comics" DIFFERENT MEDIUMS PEOPLE, also highly recommend stop comparing things, you'll get an aneurysm

Am i upset they made Gopal a bigger idiot? Yea, its a problem. Am i annoyed with the changes? Yea sure but i've long accepted that it would be highly different since the first time galaxy s1 comics roled around (they had Fang's backstory while the show didn't)

I may be upset but i'm not gonna complain in the smallest of things, those things i can fix myself, i'll write what i want. I'll fantasies it. I'll even draw it myself even if it looks terrible

And its not even just sonic or bbb fandom, all fandoms are like this. The more years have passed the more I'm not taking complaints seriously. I'm enjoying this media whether you hate it or not.

Sorry for the sudden rant to you, you're the only bbb and sonic blog i know. Feel free to ignore and hope you have a great day :D

I dare you want to see my answer when you write that essay. Don't think you want me to ignore it when I know you want to read it, anon. hehe😏

I treat Sonic and Boboiboy a bit different nowadays. In the past I might get over excessive, but I know I said this before, my view of Sonic fandom change recently and I blame internet because of that.

It felt exaggerated but that fandom genuinely damaged my heart and soul for sonic. I'd rather be a silent enthusiast rather than engaging or contributing to the community. It sucks cuz I want to share my love with people, sharing art, thoughts and discussion....

But I cannot differentiate which one is satire, constructive criticism or straight up hate.

Everyone wants to be the voice of reason and It's... Exhausting to watch. I have my pen friend who emotionally broken after he went online debate in the fandom. He even gave up to the fandom and the franchise itself. At first I thought his response was dramatic(no joke), but then I witness the same thing and almost caused me a mental health problem.

Karma I guess🙃

Therefor, for the sake of my sanity, I don't want to engage too much in every fandom.

That's also includes Boboiboy. Different fandom treatment, same war.

I already talked this much on this site more about the fandom anyway. Here in case you haven't seen it

[stories-me]

Potential Character for Mrs. Kelsey and Tumblr 7-25-2023:

Alice Liddell, Hand of the Queen:

What she might be in: 12 Realms or something.

What she’s from: “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland” and “Through the Looking Glass and What Alice Found There”.

Background:

A young girl who tumbled down a rabbit hole and into a land beyond the looking-glass, Alice was, at one point, tricked into ingesting a strange potion that made her shrink and grow. In both cases, she discovered benefits to all three sizes, seeing things from different points of view.

One day, the Queen of Hearts commissioned her to help stop the Jabberwock, a terrible demon-dragon who was invulnerable to almost all harm. However, legend told of a special sword, the Vorpal Blade, that could stop it.

With the aid of several other heroes, Alice found her way to a land of headless folk (such as the Headless Horseman, Bluebeard’s wives, and the various creatures who had run afoul of the Queen of Hearts and had not been pardoned in time), where she learned that the king (once a beamish boy who had fought the Jabberwock before) held the sword.

As it turned out, the King had been tricked into believing there were no more creatures with heads in order to keep the Vorpal Blade from attacking everyone around it. The sword loves chopping off heads, and when the King came out of the Tulgey Wood, his father did not for long chortle with joy. The Vorpal Blade demanded the boy’s father’s head. And his mother’s. And his sister’s. And the heads of pretty much everyone around him. Ironically, the Queen of Hearts managed to stop the situation (because if there was nobody left to have a head, there would be nobody she could order her favorite punishment against) by commissioning the court wizard to make an army of headless folk.

The Headless Knights held down the King, and Alice took the sword from his hand. To everyone’s surprise, Alice’s will was stronger than that of the Blade, and Alice wielded the sword against the Jabberwock, taking its eye and trapping the demon-dragon in a magical tomb.

For her heroism (and her actions during the War of Six Armies), Alice was given the title of “Hand of the Queen”. Now, she (and others) work against the sinister Dark Undermaster, who seeks to conquer all the lands of fairy tales…

How she is like me:

Sometimes, I have the urge to do bad things or lash out. Usually, I’m able to resist. Sometimes, by thinking about other things or powering through the thought.

Kelsey Notes:

Alice was faced with a “hero decision” because she was in a life or death situation and she did not want anything bad to happen to those around her

This is a good example of “in the moment thinking”, sometimes we don’t realize how well we are capable of handling a situation until we are faced with something that requires us to think outside the box in order to save those around us   

What are situations of frustration that cause you to lash out at others or do bad things:

            The internet is out

            Getting frustrated with others- this ultimately might tie into everything going according to plan which means others act in the way I want them to and when they aren’t acting the way I want them do then I’m not going to get frustrated

Because of your growth, maintaining calm relationships with others in your life is very important to you.  If things go according to plan, then the unexpected moment of frustration that causes you to lash out at someone you care about won’t happen. 

This relates to feeling venerable and being a genuine person.  You care about others, want to protect them, and don’t want to lose the skills you have gained. 

This is how you stay motivated to grow- the people in your life are important, you don’t want to lose them, and you want to work to keep your relationships. 

[gravityknife]

War in Ebmelkrov

Ch. 1: News Scoops

My name is Khorkirov Vanilvna Chirichna, nicknamed Korky and Koko and sometimes Kirov.

I was spending some time at Ricky's house, invited over before the war could crawl our direction and possibly force us into running away toward the West. Ricky is intriguing and loves to study politics and all current events. They, most people in his family, call him Junior. His real name is Harry, like his father, middle name Ricky Bodega, last name Crubrakner. Everyone at school calls him Ricky.

The war was between Ebmelkrov and Zevnayzjya, and it was waging in the very background of Junior's backyard, as we lived right there in the gigantic Zevnayzjya landmass. We could hear explosions and gunfire, and we could see the lights from all of it in the sky, hiding the stars on one side of the night sky, though making it appear like a lightly constant dusk and dawn.

His father was Uncle Harry, his mom, Aunt Medna. With us were two of their maids who were helping keep the campfire alive, and helping serve us fresh food and beverages, like hot cocoa for Junior and his dad.

Uncle Harry, his dad, was in a heavy debate with Junior. He was talking about the war between Ebmelkrov and our home country Zevnayzjya.

"I'm not for the war, Junior," he reminded Junior. He always reminds me of Jason Bateman, the American actor, especially in the way that he speaks so dramatically 'white.'

Junior debated like the devil's advocate at first saying, "Why not? I think it's good, it's something to fight for that finally brings our country into the world spotlight, where we can bring hope to others where we weren't able to do so before. Consider the collective spirit that the war has rallied from our fellow Zevyas."

"Junior, the war is a terrible idea! For one, people are dying out there, pal. It's not simply a walk in the park—," his dad retorted.

"I know that, dad, but it's as violent as it is a passionate message to the rest of the world that we deserve better."

"Junior," said Uncle Harry, unamused.

"Dad, we haven't made this much progress in our own country for a long time, we're cleaning up home, the government is strengthening us as a whole—," informed Junior.

Uncle Harry practically spat back, "Junior, strengthening?! Strengthening us?! You are out of your mind, Junior! You are crazy if you think that our government is helping us at- aaall right now. They care about the war effort, Junior, and we are lucky to not have been drafted into the war ourselves."

Junior, slightly diminished, assured, "Dad, I would have fought for our country, knowing that the government and our military simply wants more from the rest of the world that has been holding us back for eons."

"Junior, that's not anyone else's fault—," argued Uncle Harry.

Junior grew frustrated. He argued back, "No, dad, okay, now that's b$llsh$t!"

His mom, Aunt Medna, jumped in. She scolded, "Junior! Language! We have a guest!"

I sat as silently as possible, smirking and chortling uncomfortably to try to ease the tension. I was comfortable listening to them debate each other over the sound of the campfire and the booming artillery and gunfire in the distance.

His dad squinted in bemusement. He shot back, "How is that b$llsh$t, Junior? Our government literally could have done all of this without Ebmelkrov being forced into annex. Ebmelkrov didn't need to be a part of Zevnayzjya. Ebmelkrov annexed to it was vexing our policies, anyway, and they were unable to make their own political decisions without President Ovrov."

Junior attempted to coolly explain, "Dad, war is what makes all nations money, and Ebmelkrov was stealing our nation's money and resources to give to enemies that aren't even neighboring our borders nor our other allies' borders!"

His dad was flabbergasted and exhaustedly continued, "Oh, God, Junior, how are they stealing? They, like other nations, have the option of trade, as our nation has been trading with every other country on the planet, even the nations you are calling our enemies!"

Junior was annoyed, at this point. He stated, "This war, them wanting to leave the Federal Alliance, and then running to our enemies, then taking the resources we have and turning all of it against us... that isn't stealing. Right, dad? Are you that— ignorant, dad?"

Uncle Harry and Aunt Medna scolded at the same time, "Junior!"

Junior fought back, "What? He reads from biased news sources all day and then thinks he knows what's best for our country and he doesn't even know what's going on in reality!"

"And you do?!" His dad pushed.

"I know for a fact what has been happening—," stated Junior.

His mom stubbed, "You do not— know— what is going on, Junior."

"Mom, stop! You weren't even part of the argument!" Junior snapped.

His dad smugly added, "Oh, so now you want it to be an argument."

Junior retorted, "No! We are discussing what is actually happening in our country—"

"Son, you don't know. I do. It says right here in the news how many—," Uncle Harry kept going, causing Junior great distress. Junior was groaning and sighing. He continued, "—soldiers and how many tanks and airplanes have been destroyed and or killed in the war. You can read it all— right here in the news."

"Dad, it's biased! You don't know either!"

Uncle Harry threw in, "Junior, you're beginning to sound like a hypocrite and a broken record repeating itself."

"You know what they say about saying or doing the same thing over and over again—," Aunt Medna teased.

Junior frustratedly pushed back, "Mom, seriously, stop."

"What? They say–," she tried to add on.

He huffed, "Mom, please, stop!"

I stoked the campfire a little.

"Honey, would you like her to get you some tea? Coffee? Soda?" Asked Aunt Medna to me.

[miramei]

Strawberry for 7 Galleons

When Evan Rosier dramatically throws open the heavy drapes around Regulus’s bed, Regulus decides that he’s on the market: for a new best friend.

“Evan,” he says, opening one eye with great difficulty to squint at the dappled light filtering into the room through the lake-water, “what the fuck.”

“Desdemona Bane,” says Evan, like they’re in some surreal universe where that is an acceptable thing to say at arse-o’clock in the morning. No, good mornin’ Reg! No, sorry for the wake up, Reg! No, instead Regulus gets Desdemona Bane!

“Sod off,” Regulus says with feeling as he buries his face into his pillow, drawing a theatrical gasp from the other boy. They stay like that for several long moments: Regulus prone on the bed slowly suffocating himself with his pillow, Evan still holding the bed-curtains wide while looking 2 parts faux-offended and 3 parts expectant. Finally, Regulus lifts his head up to breathe. “What about Desdemona Bane?”

Evan takes that as his cue, flinging the curtains back and inviting himself onto Regulus’s bed. Regulus moves to prop himself up on his elbows as Evan wriggles into position next to him. “Heard you snogged her,” he says with a conspiratory grin, “in the alcove on the west wing, third floor.”

Regulus lets out an unimpressed huff. “Can’t keep anything from your hooligans,” he sniffs. “And of course it was in an alcove. I’m not going to kiss a girl in the middle of the hall. I have class.” He shoves the other boy with his shoulder when Evan snorts, just hard enough to put the threat of shoving him right off the bed out there.

“And how was it?” Evan asks, looking deeply invested in someone else’s date. “Must’ve been nice, yeah? Bane’s got really plump lips.”

Regulus stares blankly at his supposed best friend. “Did I just hear what I think I heard come out of your mouth,” he says flatly. “Plump lips. Who the fuck even says that.” But even as he says that and Evan spreads his hands wide in a what-can-you-do gesture, he has to admit that yeah, Desdemona Bane certainly did have very plump lips. Very plump, very soft lips, which were perfectly suitable for pouting, which she did a lot to great effect.

He mirrors Evan’s movement. “Was nice,” he offers. “Quite soft. Strawberry flavored lip balm.” Evan shoots up with a victorious crow, and Regulus watches with a bemused look as he wrenches open the curtains (again).

“AVERY!” he shouts, to an answering what the FUCK Rosier!? from two beds down, “cough it up; it was strawberry!” Regulus is putting the pieces together now, and his theory is only confirmed when Marcellus Avery explodes out of his bed, hair disheveled, looking outraged, and roaring that Black obviously can’t tell his goddamn fruits apart!

“I have an excellent sense of taste, in both the literal and figurative manner,” Regulus says coolly, while Evan parades triumphantly around the room, dancing just out of Avery’s twitching fingers. “It was strawberry. There was a lot of it.” Avery’s face turns an alarming shade of purple, but he passes the gold over to Evan anyway, who then gleefully goes around to the other beds demanding similar payment.

Evan collects a tidy sum of 7 galleons from the lip balm debacle, and is still preening when they go down to breakfast. Avery has since returned to a normal color, although he turns a brilliant shade of red when Regulus says, evenly, that he should really feel free to see if he could convince Desdemona Bane to show off any other flavors of lip balm she could own.

“Not up for a second date?” Evan asks as he butters up a piece of toast.

“Depends on what you're betting on,” Regulus replies evenly, even as he knows that there's no second date with Desdemona Bane. Evan laughs, loud and unattractive but bright.

Sirius Black strides into the Great Hall with his arm slung around James Potter’s shoulder. Three spots down, Snape’s expression turns mutinous at the sight, prompting a laugh from Mulciber and a warning that the milk was going to curdle. Snape, dependable as always, looks even more sullen. Down the table, Aria Reier tries to charm bubbles to float out of her pumpkin juice, expression concerned and wand movements wavering.

Evan contemplates an apple before taking a vicious bite out of the fruit. He looks thoughtful. “Heard Desdemona Bane also has excellent thighs,” he says, a little slyly. Avery snorts into his bacon.

“Ramona Spring. 10 galleons.”

Evan grins like Avery hadn't just dropped a large sum of money on some stupid bet with a girl none of them have a chance with. “Aight. Reg, confirm it for us.”

Regulus lazily flips him off. “Confirm it yourself. I will not have all my relationships be opportunities for you to make money.” Evan cries betrayal, which Regulus studiously ignores, just like he ignores Sirius’s steadfast glare on the back of his head.

Ten minutes later, he wishes he hadn't ignored the older Black when all the drinks up and down the Slytherin table erupt out of their containers, turning into menacing watery animals and wrecking havoc among the eggs. Aria yelps as a pumpkin juice dog eats her hard-charmed bubbles, and squeaks when Regulus shoves her into Esther Flint with a well-aimed pushing charm to avoid the rampaging juice. It hits a passing Ravenclaw, soaking their textbooks, and then, well… juice wasn't the only thing flying.

“I'm surrounded by menaces,” he sighs as he deflects a fleet of toast planes from the Hufflepuff table towards Mulciber, watching in mild disgust as the older boy grabs one out of the air and takes a vindictive bite out of the tail.

Evan laughs and launches grapes high into the sky to send them to the Gryffindors. “They can't give us all detention!” he says cheerily as the grapes find their target. And true to his word, when McGonagall thunders in (just in time to stop the kippers from forming into a giant fishy monstrosity) she can't prove that anyone in particular started this whole mess. She’s forced to dock 200 points from each house, looking deeply unsatisfied, and slaps the first four people whose faces twitch into grins with a week’s worth of detention. Potter, unfortunately, is not among them. Neither is Sirius Black.

“Go to class,” she says snippily, and suitably cowed, everyone goes.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt: what if jc was lxc's age (and jyl maybe 2 or 3 years older) and wwx was lwj's/nhs' age when he was brought to lotus pier? (Or anything that involves a much bigger age gap bw the jiang sibs and wwx - where wwx is babey)

Untamed

“You know what,” Jiang Cheng said to his sister, who looked at him. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m not marrying a woman.”

Jiang Yanli’s lips started twitching uncontrollably and she hid her smile behind her sleeve. “Oh?”

“Nope. I’m going to marry Chifeng-zun.”

“On the basis of…?”

“If you take two adult men in charge of two Great Sects,” Jiang Cheng said, doing his utmost best to keep a straight face, “with all the power we can generate between us, we might – maybe – have a chance at disciplining our baby brothers.”

Jiang Yanli burst out laughing.

“There, there. It’s all right,” he said, grinning, reaching out to pat her on the shoulder. “You can join us if you’d like. There’s enough room in Qinghe for two wives.”

“We are not both running away to Qinghe,” she said, giggling. “A-Cheng!”

“What? I think it’s a great idea. If our parents want us back, they can negotiate with Chifeng-zun for it – may they have more luck than they had with the whole medicinal herb debacle.”

“A-Cheng, I am officially tabling this idea,” Jiang Yanli said, still snorting. “Older sibling privilege.”

“I let you out of the womb first as a matter of courtesy,” Jiang Cheng sniffed. “And now you use it against me? A-Li, how could you?”

“Call me jiejie! It doesn’t matter how much older, a few shichen or a few years, older is still older.”

“You probably elbowed me with those sharp pointy things you have on your arms. Weapons of war.”

“Older is older!” she sang. “Now tell me, what did A-Xian do this time?”

“Would you like it in chronological order, or in order of severity? I can also group it by theme, if you prefer.”

“Oh no,” Jiang Yanli said, covering her eyes. “Oh no.”

“And the chief-most theme,” Jiang Cheng said, continuing anyway, “is still called Lan Wangji.”

“Oh no!”

“He has the worst crush,” Jiang Cheng said, shaking his head with endless amusement. “And he just – refuses to admit it. ‘Nooooo, shixiong, we’re just friends, he can’t even stand me most of the time, he’s always trying to get me in trouble, but sometimes he lets me sit next to him and spend time with him and he’s so handsome and I really just want to make him laugh –’”

“We have,” Jiang Yanli said thoughtfully, “raised an idiot.”

“He was fine when we got him,” Jiang Cheng disagreed. “We have spoiled an idiot.”

“This is true. Maybe we should go form a mutual complaining society with Chifeng-zun; isn’t his little brother also an idiot?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Jiang Cheng said. “Worse: they’ve teamed up. Nie Huaisang buys Wei Wuxian porn now.”

“Oh no…”

“In return for help cheating on his tests!”

“Oh no!”

“So that’s why I’m going to marry Chifeng-zun,” Jiang Cheng concluded. “Our parents may be disappointed by my decision, but with our powers combined, we might be able to save the world from our respective younger idiots.”

“Maybe,” she said, and shook her head. “A-Cheng – about our parents…”

Jiang Cheng shook his head as well, echoing her action but more in denial. It wasn’t anyone’s fault that she took after their father and he took after their mother, that she was born a shichen prior to midnight and he a shichen after and their personalities completely different as a result; it was no one’s fault that their parents didn’t get along, with their mother disdaining what she perceived as Jiang Yanli’s passiveness and lack of passion and their father despising Jiang Cheng’ prickly temper and difficulty communicating his affection without scolding.

It certainly wasn’t Wei Wuxian’s fault for being younger and more brilliant, talented at everything he did and with just the sort of personality their father liked best – the combination of his former best friend and the girl he’d once thought of marrying – and that he’d always made that preference very clear to everyone, even to their mother who often worried that her husband would dispossess her children in favor of his foundling and who lashed out at everyone in response.

That had hurt – hurt a lot, even, and Jiang Cheng was soft and sensitive underneath all his defensive layers, but any time he got angry over it he would look at Wei Wuxian, their little A-Xian, baby Xianxian, who adored his older siblings more than anything and was adored in return, and he forced himself to get over it. He was old enough, by the time Wei Wuxian arrived, to know to whom the blame really belonged.

“I spoke with Nie Huaisang while I was at the Cloud Recesses,” Jiang Cheng said in an undertone, one reserved just for his sister. “He’s asked me to pass along a message to his brother, the next time I go night-hunting, about the whole debacle – he’s so terribly apologetic, you understand, he couldn’t wait for the post – if we get to Qinghe by tomorrow, Chifeng-zun will be able to get to Gusu in time to intervene before our father does something wretched like cancel your engagement and take A-Xian home early from his studies.”

“The engagement I wouldn’t mind,” she remarked. “If Jin Zixuan feels so strongly about it that he’d get into a fistfight with A-Xian, it’s better not to marry, no matter what our mother might think. But on no account is A-Xian to be sent home early! He needs his education!”

Unsaid was everything else he needed, things he could get better at the Cloud Recesses than anywhere else.

“Then we go?”

“We go,” she agreed. Between the two of them, Jiang Cheng had more talent at cultivation, but she was steadier, even in her overall mediocrity: when the two of them flew on a sword together, they could make it much further and faster than anyone expected.

Qinghe wasn’t really close enough for a quick jaunt – they flew all night without stopping – but Chifeng-zun was amendable to their scheme, jumping at once onto his saber and making his way straight to Gusu. A waste of spiritual energy all around, really, but far faster than their father would move, with his Sect Leader’s dignity and retinue, rushing to the Cloud Recesses to save his precious little Wei Wuxian from having any connections in life that weren’t to the Jiang sect, and the Jiang sect alone. 

And never mind how much he needed those connections: needed to have friends his own age, needed to have more time with that crush of his, needed independence and freedom and everything the Jiang sect supposedly stood for - needed for them to support him and act as the foundation beneath his feet, rather than the chains tying him down to earth.

Chifeng-zun – who was only a few years older than they were – was really a very understanding person, getting the problem at once and immediately agreeing with their view on things. Perhaps there really was something to be said about the difference in generations…

“Let me show you to rooms where you can rest,” Chifeng-zun’s aide said, a slender young man with a polite smile on his face as he saluted. “I’ll arrange for refreshments as well.”

“We hate to trouble you, but in all honesty you are a lifesaver,” Jiang Yanli said to him warmly, and he unexpectedly flushed red at the cheeks. “A-Cheng, let’s follow this handsome young man and rest a while before we return to the Lotus Pier.”

The young man was blushing.

“What’s your name?” Jiang Cheng asked, and the blush faded away at once as the man paled a little: it would be one he expected them to recognize, then, and not in a good way.

“This one is Meng Yao,” he said, and saluted again even though he’d already saluted once before, and Jiang Yanli’s eyes flickered to Jiang Cheng’s very briefly before she caught his arms and raised him up.

“I’ve heard of you. Smart and talented enough to get Chifeng-zun’s attention, even so far as becoming his personal deputy - you must be brilliant. Truly, you deserve a better father,” she told him, and he stared up at her, dumbstruck.

“Don’t mind her,” Jiang Cheng said. “She’s trying out this new thing in which she says everything she feels without thinking first.”

She elbowed him. “And isn’t it your fault?” she asked snappishly. “You’re the one who needs to speak your mind more; I’m just modeling good behavior!”

If she’d been older than him – really older, rather than just a few shichen – maybe she would have held her tongue more and played the role of the peacekeeper, trying to protect him from his father’s indifference the way she had tried to when they were both younger, just as he had tried to distract his mother from her with his hard-fought accomplishments. It wasn’t until they had little Wei Wuxian to spoil and care for, a joint task that required both of their attention, that they realized that splitting their forces like that was pointless and self-defeating: it wasn’t actually helping that Jiang Yanli suppressed so much of her spirit until she felt like little more than a reflective mirror with no content, nor that Jiang Cheng nearly worked himself to death trying to prove that he was worthy of his father’s love and respect that he would never receive, and it never would.

So they stopped.

They were trying very hard to stop, anyway.

“You’re very kind,” Meng Yao murmured, and led them to their rooms.

The moment he closed the door behind him, Jiang Yanli turned to Jiang Cheng and said, “I’ve changed my mind about your plan – we can run away to Qinghe. You marry Chifeng-zun, and I’ll marry that charming boy out there.”

There was an audible thudding sound from the corridor outside, as if someone had accidentally walked into a wall, and they both grinned at each other.

“Mother would kill you,” he warned her in an undertone.

“And being married to someone who disdains me enough to fight over my worthlessness in public wouldn’t?” she retorted, smiling even though her expression was tinged with pain: if she had one ambition in life, it was to never become their mother. “The marriage agreement might have been forged by our mothers, but the text of it says ‘the Jin sect leader’s son to the Jiang sect leader’s daughter’. Why can’t I marry him?”

“He hasn’t been acknowledged.”

“Only technically. Everyone knows he’s the real deal, or else his father wouldn’t have made such a fuss about it.”

“But –”

“Anyway, he must be a good man, or Chifeng-zun wouldn’t have promoted him.”

“I don’t know about that,” Jiang Cheng said. “Chifeng-zun doesn’t have the sense of self-preservation the heavens bestowed on a lemming.”

There was a vaguely audible snort from outside their door. It seemed Meng Yao, at least, had the good sense not to leave guests in his house unattended, and no discrimination against the very useful business of listening at doors.

He also had a sense of humor, which was good given Jiang Yanli’s newfound ambitions in his regard.

“Yes, well, I wasn’t saying I’d elope with him tomorrow or anything,” she sniffed, eyes dancing. “Give him some time to prove himself to me.”

Jiang Cheng couldn’t help but smile back. “That’s true,” he said, raising his voice a little. “At Chifeng-zun’s side, he’ll be able to make a name for himself until the whispers all say that his father was an idiot for keeping him away.”

“And if even that doesn’t work, I’ll marry him in and make him help me run the Jiang sect,” she said cheerfully. “Who needs Lanling Jin?”

“Wait, since when are you inheriting the Jiang sect?”

“I’m older! And anyway, aren’t you marrying Chifeng-zun? That means you’ll be away helping run his sect, and that leaves an opening at home for me.”

“…huh. Good point.”

“Maybe you can just swap places with Meng Yao,” she said, starting to giggle again. “And we can all see how long it takes anyone to notice…”

“Our parents might not,” Jiang Cheng said dryly. “But Chifeng-zun would. If only because I have my sights set on his bed, and I don’t think Meng Yao does.”

“You don’t know that; everyone wants Chifeng-zun. Maybe you have competition.”

“Better to have competition than be oblivious. Do you want to hear the whole story about A-Xian and Lan Wangji’s tragic mutual pining disaster? Xichen-xiong told me all the details he’s been leaving out of his letters.”

“Tell me everything!”

[theresthesnitch]

Hi Snitch, how have you been? ❤️

I've loved every chapter of OLT(NE) so far, and it's fun to see everyone's reaction to James being a total idiot.

So, just for the sake of it - and because it's a fun way to explore stories and characters - I'll play devil's advocate.

It's true. James' actions are cruel, his words are hurtful. He is in the wrong, without a doubt. All of these things are true... But they also make sense.

As you said, he doesn't think clearly (or at all) around Lily, he's waited and fought for her, and he feels betrayed, but I think there's more to it.

Let's take it one step at a time.

James joined the Order right after graduating from Hogwarts, at 18. He went from living a relatively sheltered life to being a soldier in a matter of months. He knew how cruel the world could be, all his loved ones had suffered because of it. And James has been, in many ways, a safe harbour for these people, someone to look up to, because he had the means, the skills and the willingness to lead and fight. And that is a huge honour, but also a big responsibility and sometimes a burden for someone so young.

And then the war turned very ugly, very quickly... But it was still worth it, because James had Lily and his friends, a reason to fight harder, a reason to survive and to live.

At his age, you're supposed to figure out who you are, to make mistakes. And let me tell you, your late teens and early twenties can be awful! I've met very few people who've enjoyed who they were. You constantly doubt yourself, your identity and it's chaotic and stressful and you lose your mind a bit. You start feeling a bit more settled in your late twenties.

So we have James, who's going through all of this during a war. This is a kid who's overly confident, probably very idealistic and optimistic. He learns very quickly that protecting his friends withing the walls Hogwarts and protecting them in the war are two entirely different things. He's not used to lose: he grows frustrated and impatient, and he starts doubting his entire outlook on life. I feel like the war was a bigger shock for James than for anybody else.

When he and Lily broke up, he had reached his limit. They had both seen terrible things, lived such horrors that there was no room for happiness. They had no control over their lives, and decided to end things because they wouldn't have forgiven themselves if they had been responsible for the other's death. Making this decision must have been impossibly difficult. Was breaking up the coward's way out? If they weren't strong enough to bear the thought of losing each other, how could they be strong enough for a war? Their enemies didn't have this weakness.

James stopped living after that. He fought to survive, not to live. Barely two years into the war, and he had already been destroyed by it.

He was a broken man... A broken boy, nineteen years old, forced to learn but also accept the complexities of the world, but without the right tools. So after a while, he found a (wrong and unhealthy) way to deal with all of this. He became numb. Reckless. Joined the hunt for the Horcruxes. Left Remus and Peter behind, too. And then the real horror began.

I think the hunt for the Horcruxes was nothing he'd even seen, nothing any of them (including Dumbledore) had seen. I think a part of him was forever changed during this time. Even after the war is over, he's profoundly affected by this. If we want to give it a name, it could be PTSD.

I think Peter's betrayal was the final nail in the coffin, and arguably the most painful part of the war, maybe even more painful than his break-up.

You see, we often think of James in the context of his relationship with Lily, but his bond with the Marauders is a fundamental part of who he is. He met them at eleven years old, before he knew about love and sex and heartbreaks. Those three people became his brothers. They were his first love, in a way. How could he wrap his head around Peter's betrayal? Had he been rotten from the beginning? And if not, why didn't they notice he had changed? Maybe they did, and they did ignored the signs, which would be even worse. I don't know if James got the answers to these questions. I don't know which is worse: to know or not know the reasons behind Peter's actions. I can only imagine what it feels like to lose someone you love like this. He would never expect his friend to be actually working for the enemy, helping him kill his other friends and gain power. It's the kind of thing you can't even imagine.

There was also a huge deal of guilt involved, because nothing could have erased the years they had spent together, their adventures, their secrets. I think James took it worse than Sirius and Remus, and not just because he was alone and they had each other, but because I think James knew Peter had looked up to him ever since he met him. He knew the influence that he had had on him. I think James blamed himself because of this. He knew the kind of person Peter was: he probably wasn't an autonomous individual in the same way James' other two friends were. Also, Sirius had experienced the betrayal of his own brother, and Remus feared deep down that this little group, this family was too good to be true, so he was prepared for their friendship to end one day. James had none of that. He had never known this feeling. He was completely unprepared and powerless.

The knowledge that James could have done something about it, that he could have fixed him, too is something that will forever haunt him. James grieves the person he thought Peter was. It's the kind of grief that will eat you inside, that will cement itself in your brain.

Truth is, I don't think James is the same person he was before. His actions and words are influenced by all these things. I'm not saying that the war made him rude and disrespectful but it makes sense that he's more blunt now: you don't have the time nor the energy to be your best self when you're trying to survive. These experiences turn you into the worst version of yourself. And, according to the story, the war has just ended and James is probably still in that mindset, and he needs a lot of time to readjust to his old life. A life he probably doesn't recognise anymore.

I'm not an expert, but many veterans have had trouble going back to their old lives. Their brain is still in fight-or-flight mode, and they sometimes experience feelings of depersonalisation and derealisation. I'm not saying that this is James' case, but it's important to contextualise his actions.

This is probably the longest ask I've ever sent you (and that's saying something) so I apologise for the length and the typos I'm sure to find if I read it again, which I won't lol

Also, this is more of a reflection about your version of James rather than an analysis. I'm sure you have a very specific idea of who he is, and if I'm completely on the wrong track I don't mind at all, quite the opposite: I'll be very happy to get to know your James better ❤️

I think that telling each other stories is what we're all ultimately here for, it's our highest purpose. It's all about about sharing, at the end of the day, so thank you for giving us this wonderful story. It makes my brain go brrr and my heart go ouch but also aw. I love it when a story pushes me to think critically, it's incredibly satisfying and it reminds me of why I love reading so much.

💜

I don't think there's a better way to show appreciation for one of my fics than a lengthy love letter to it in my ask box. This is....everything. I love this.

Also, as far as James goes? You hit the nail on the head there. A few additional details that I think play an important part below the cut here.

***

Absolutely, 100% yes with the war hitting James harder than he expected. I think you also have to consider the Lily aspect of it all. James started the war fighting for and because of Lily, but then she was gone, and I think that had a two-fold effect on him.

First, we see him being more reckless in the past snippets in chapter 1. James volunteers for the "special taskforce" without thinking twice about it because "it should be someone like him with nothing to lose." It's also the first time that he sees his friends split, and the war causes that. This ultimately has consequences that shake James to the core. Like you mentioned, he lost Peter somewhere along the way, to the point that Peter betrayed them. Was Peter always bad, or was it some failing in James that made him go bad? (Because James would have always thought he could save his friends, and he failed.) However, he also watched fellow members of the taskforce die. From chapter 1:

When Peter and Remus left, the latter sending a longing look back over his shoulder, James and Sirius were left with Fabian and Gideon Prewett, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Dorcas Meadows, and Caradoc Dearborn. They sat in a circle, with Dumbledore at the head looking fondly around at them, as they waited to hear what this dangerous task would be. 

It's not a mistake that the other members of the task force were almost unanimously characters that died in the first war in canon. James, Sirius, and Kingsley are the only surviving members of this task force. James worked closely with them, for years, trying to bring about the end of Voldemort, and he watched them die while he did it. I think James holds a lot of guilt for that too. From chapter 2:

He would tell her, if she wanted to know, what he had been doing for the last five years. He would tell her of the hunt for Horcruxes and the danger and the way he missed her every day. 

He thinks about telling her, and in his head, it is inexplicably tied with her. All of these horrors he went through, and she was part of it.

The second effect this time had on him ties in well here. James always held out hope that Lily would come back to him again, and that the war could be over, and they'd make it work this time. James spent 5 years imagining what reuniting with Lily would be like without the pressure of keeping each other alive, and....none of that had a kid in it. He fought for her, and nearly died for her, and he always imagined that in the time after, they'd have this life together that was shattered when he came back and thought she found someone else.

That moment, as unreasonable as we all know it to be, made James fracture. James is nothing if not a man who loves Lily, but he never thought about losing her like that. He still wants her (as much as she wants him) but to him, it feels like a betrayal to him and to all the people who fought a war and died in that war while standing next to him.

Perhaps it's made him a bit cruel, but he doesn't mean to be. He loves so much that he doesn't know how to handle the heartbreak he's feeling. He hurts so much, but he doesn't know how to let her go. He's caught in this terrible spiral where he can't win either way--except we know what he's giving up. James doesn't, however.

I know I've mentioned this in asks before, but I actually had far more flashbacks planned out for the years between, enough to the point that I legitimately considered making a second fic to cover that time period. I think we would have seen a lot more development for James if I'd stuck to the plan that included them, but it didn't ultimately add to the story I'd set out to tell. However, if I had, that would have included:

Watching Wolfstar fall in love which only made him long for Lily more. (I have a few of these drafted if anyone wants to see it)

James got seriously injured about 3.5-4 years into the time apart. Like, Sirius pacing the halls of St. Mungos and discharing accidental magic like crazy because he thinks his brother is dying (which should inform Sirius's behavior a bit too)

Regulus showing up when he hears that James is hurt, and showing Sirius his locket-horcrux.

Regulus recognizing the curse that's killing James, and saving him.

Regulus helping them find more horcruxes, and ultimately developing a relationship with James and Sirius too (Brotherly; no Jegulus in my Jily fic!)

Dramatically watching the Prewets, Meadows, and Dearborn die.

Regulus still being killed, despite everything.

Finding out that Peter caused James's injuries and got Regulus killed

Nearly losing the war before Voldemort was finally defeated.

And two weeks later, Lily is back in town. And she has a kid that James doesn't know. And it breaks him.

He's broken. He's torn to pieces. And yet, our James is made of love and hope, and everything that is good. He just has to find that again. Perhaps in a green-eyed, messy-haired boy?

[crossdressingdeath]

One of the major problems with Three Houses is that sometimes it tries to make you feel bad for poor Edelgard and how alone she is (now that I've stolen her entire house out from under her, anyway) and how much she hates what she "has" to do. I don't feel bad for her, game! This is entirely her own doing! If she didn't want to have to fight her school friends she shouldn't have declared war on her school friends! No one is making her try to subjugate the entire bloody continent, that was entirely her own decision!

The typical Fire Emblem lord discussion of the horrors of war and how terrible it is to have to fight and kill rings just a little hollow when the lord in question declared war on the rest of the continent without provocation and with the aid of the people ACTUALLY RESPONSIBLE FOR THE EVENTS SHE'S USING TO JUSTIFY HER INVASION, is all I'm saying. Also, the Black Eagles seem a lot more comfortable with the side they chose in Silver Snow than they did in Crimson Flower. They're still not happy about it, but I don't get the same sense of conflicting emotions that I did in Crimson Flower; same with all the other houses' units, who while conflicted about leaving their homelands at least didn't actively betray them. Basically no one seems happy with how things are going in Crimson Flower (on a much more... moral (for lack of a better word) level than how they're unhappy in the other routes, which is more "we're having to fight people we went to school with" than "oh fuck I think we might be the bad guys"). In Crimson Flower everyone seems miserable with their choices the whole way through. Except maybe Hubert. And I feel bad for all of them! They all had to make the difficult choice between their loyalty to Byleth/Edelgard (mostly Byleth I'd say given they turn on Edelgard the moment Byleth does in Silver Snow) and their loyalty to their classmates/families/the Church/the general concept of peace in Fodlan with zero warning (because Edelgard and Hubert didn't bother to warn any of the people whose support they were planning on what they were doing)! But I don't feel bad for Edelgard, and that's the main failing of Crimson Flower for me; a lot of the impact of the routes is tied to how you feel about the main lords! When they talk about how awful it is having to fight their friends and former classmates it matters that you feel for them and connect with that struggle! And with Dimitri and Claude (and Seteth, who so far seems to be taking on the lord position in Silver Snow, although I'm not very far in so I don't know if that changes) I do, but every time Edelgard starts going on about how hard it is having to fight her "friends" and how she wishes it wasn't necessary, she doesn't mean she wishes this war had never started; she means she wishes they would just hand their land over to her without a fight. She wishes she didn't have to fight to steal their land from them with no justification. When she talks about how bad she feels all I can think is that this whole situation and the misery of all the other units across all four routes is all her damned fault. And that makes it just a little hard to feel bad for her when she's sad, or when she dies in every route but her own. I hate Dimitri dying on the other routes, because I care about him and want him to be happy and you only get that on his own route! I wish I could convince Claude to stay and help me make Fodlan better in Azure Moon! Even when I'm fighting them in Crimson Flower they don't feel like enemies! (Also it still makes no sense that they fight each other but that's not the point.) But I damn near cheer when Edelgard goes down. I get the same joy I get defeating Grima in Awakening (still my favourite FE, not gonna lie). She's the antagonist, she's the problem, she is the biggest thing standing between Fodlan and the peace that already existed before she decided she wanted the Empire to control everything. Basically she feels more like Walhart than Chrom, and that... makes it really hard to want her to win even on her own route.

Honestly? The only reason I'll ever play Crimson Flower again is if I decide to do a M!Byleth run to get all the route-exclusive supports as a dude, because I don't like feeling like the bad guy. And subjugating an entire continent by force because one woman decided she, with the aid of the group largely responsible for her suffering, should be put in control of everything, with the major support of the people responsible for all the experiments she went through? That feels pretty fucking bad to me.