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cherrycranes · 3 months ago

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A Proper Thank You (Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader) [+18]

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x female reader Summary: You're Tommy's younger girlfriend who he loves to spoil. Thankfully, you always know how to thank him. Word count: 2,954 Contents: (Minors DNI) Age gap (reader is in her 20's, Tommy is in his 40's), smut, daddy kink (a serious use of the word "daddy"), oral sex (male receiving), cum eating. Author's notes: Another collab with my bestie @fuckiingloser. Don't forget to give her some love too! Mandatory "english is not my first language" disclaimer. Love ya!

You were not the first young woman to be with a man in his 40's. It was still very common even if the times were changing. But there was something about this relationship that did mirror the societal shift. You were his sweet girlfriend who he paraded around town, who shamelessly sat on his lap while he worked and who shared his bed. Quite the scandal for those still stuck in Victorian times who would expect this to happen only between a married couple. Good thing the Victorian times had ended over 30 years ago.

Tommy loved having you by his arm half of the time. The other half he loved having you under him. Or on top, he wasn't picky. He got a kick out of the variety of looks some people would give him for having a pretty, young girl as his sweetheart. But above all things, he absolutely adored the way his pretty baby looked at him whenever he spoiled her rotten.

Today, you went with him to a horse ranch near Southam. A lovely place where Tommy intended to see that beautiful look in your eyes once more. He smirked, seeing you caress a beautiful mare’s nuzzle, the animal calm and docile under your touch.

“Aye, I think she likes you.” Tommy announced with pride, already planning to buy the horse for his beautiful girlfriend.

“You think?” You turned your head to look at him and admire his poise. The cigarette kissing his lips, the fine dark suit, the piercing blue eyes. So intimidating to many, so dear to you. “She’s beautiful…” Your thoughts and eyes returned to the mare, giving her another soft pet.

“You two make a very pretty picture, baby girl.” He dropped his cigarette to the ground and stomped it out skillfully before making his way to you. His big arms wrapped around you from behind while he rested his chin on your shoulder. You smirked when a surprisingly sweet kiss was planted on the side of your head. Thomas Shelby was never sweet to anyone, not even in the dark humor jokes of those who knew him. His portrait could have easily been annexed to the definitions of “rugged”, “serious” and even “ruthless”, yet, here he was. This was what his lips that had spat out curses and threats were doing. Kissing. And very gently at that.

Above all women, you had a special place in his soul. You had him wrapped around your finger like those expensive rings you wore. Anything you wanted, you could have it. And if tomorrow you were to ask for a heart on a silver plate, he would tear anybody’s chest open and serve it to you himself.

You leaned into him, just in time to meet his husky whisper:

“If you want her baby… She’s yours.”

With a big, spoiled princess grin, you turned around and looked at him in complete elation.

“Thank you, daddy!” Your sweetness intoxicated him, the way you looked into his eyes killed him, and the way you called him “daddy” raised him from the dead. He absolutely loved it.

A calloused hand came up to touch your cheek, his thumb gently rubbing over your bottom lip. He admired the joy upon your beautiful face and studied it devotedly.

“Anything for my girl.” He spoke softly, his sexy Birmingham accent made your knees feel weak and your pussy become wetter. In a heartbeat, Thomas spoke to the farm owner, purchased the mare without even caring about the cost and made the necessary arrangements so you could have your pretty horse.

After a successful purchase, Thomas helped you into the passenger seat of his car, driving you back to town. You would have your horse tomorrow morning, right now, business called.

He drove you to the Garrison, the Shelby's family owned pub for a Peaky Blinder business meeting. Usually, women were not allowed, but you were not just a woman. You were Thomas Shelby’s woman. And the people who knew would rather chop a limb off than dare to deny you access.

With his hand on your lower back, Tommy guided you inside the rowdy bar towards the private Peaky Blinders table. Everybody was waiting for your arrival between sips of irish whiskey and puffs of smoke. Thomas took a seat and you took yours on his lap, the feeling of your weight on him as natural as the feeling of air entering his lungs.

The men at the table did not bat an eye, your presence was the new normality. And in a way, a sign that things were good, that Thomas was relaxed and no conflicts were on the horizon. If something bad or difficult was preying upon them, you would be hidden away in some safe heaven and not happily sitting on Tommy’s lap. Perhaps, the only other emotion a few of the men could feel when looking at you was a secret, deeply buried longing. Anybody would love to have a beauty like you sitting on their lap. Not that they would allow Thomas to hear them admit that.

The meeting started around you, some usual business and many details you didn’t care for. Thomas concentrated, his thumb mindlessly rubbing back and forth on your clothed thigh. You liked the skirt you wore, the fabric was soft, and it incited Tommy to touch. It was not exactly close to the feeling of your bare skin when you fucked him, or when he would make you sit naked on his lap while he worked in his house studio, but it was pleasant.

The more the meeting dragged on, the more you started to grow restless. And a little bored, in all honesty. Sitting on his lap sounded glamorous and sensual in theory but in practice it was a test of resilience and patience. Being a sweet arm candy girl like you required more than a pretty face and a hot body. You also had to possess the skills to tell when a meeting was dying out and calculate the exact perfect moment to lean closer to Tommy’s ear and whisper something to save you from boredom.

“You know… I never properly thanked you today for getting me my beautiful horse… I think daddy needs a proper thank you…” Thomas turned to look at you with a raised eyebrow and a little smirk.

“Is that right?” He leaned closer to you until your noses bumped together, giving your thigh a squeeze. “And just how would you thank daddy, then? Hmm?” He whispered, the meeting a mere background noise now. You leaned towards his ear again, whispering so quietly so only Tommy could hear.

“I wanna suck your cock… Or you can fuck me over your desk in the back?” You purred so innocently despite the pure filth of your words. His cock told you all you needed to know about his opinion. The twitch inside his pants impossible to miss. You pulled back to stare into his eyes and take in his tiny smirk. He knew that resistance was futile and completely incompatible with him when it came to you.

Without excusing words or explanations to the other gentlemen, Thomas scooted you two out of the booth, taking your hand and guiding you to the back. He kicked the small office door open and locked you both in. You could almost feel his piercing blues tracing the shape of your ass under that fashionable skirt you wore.

“So...” You started, walking over to his desk and luring him to take a few steps closer to you. He towered over you, his rough hands touched your hips with interest. “How does daddy want me?” You purred innocently, looking into his eyes.

Thomas’ cock hardened even more in his dress pants. Your figure, your soft face, your pretty eyes, your voice, you. Lust took over his eyes.

“On your knees baby… you know what daddy wants.” His voice was husky, overcome with his need for you and your pretty little mouth. You grinned, a hungry look in your eyes replicating his own. Steadily, you sunk to your knees, the fabric of your skirt your only padding on the cold floor. Tommy leaned against his desk and watched you work your magic. Your fingers undid the button of his pants with torturous care.

“You know… If you wanted to fuck me in front that whole room of men… I’d let you. I’d let you do whatever you want to me..” You were a tease, you killed him slowly. His breath hitched a bit, his possessive streak driving him to total insanity. You were right. You would let him do anything he wanted. He knew. But hearing you say that made the fire of his lower stomach ignite him whole.

“Oh, I know you would… You’d be my good little girl, wouldn’t you?” He whispered, brushing a hair out of your beautiful face. You nodded so innocently, and then lowered his pants down until they pooled around his ankles.

“I'll always be your good girl… I’ll always please you and let you use me however you need…” You whispered back, a soft sensual smile gracing your lips. Tommy couldn’t help but groan at your words, his painfully hard cock pulsing in his boxer briefs right in front of your face.

“God, you’re such a good girl… You’ll be good for daddy now won’t you?” He cooed.

“Always.” You purred in devotion. Your hands reached up to grab the band of his boxers and, with one swift, well trained motion, pulled them down. His large throbbing cock sprung free for you to drool over. Mere inches away from your face.

“You gonna thank your daddy properly, hmm?” He asked with a sexy smirk, heavily accented and incredibly husky. You nodded obediently, your eyes going from his beautiful irises to his hard cock. It had been over four months since you became his sweetheart and you still felt enamored at his sheer size.

“Yes daddy…” You answered softly then looked back up to his pretty blue eyes. “Gonna suck your cock and drain these perfect balls just how you like…” You made it a point to speak so innocently, stirring something in him. He could have lost himself right then and there from your words alone. It took him a second to fully take in the idea. The dirtiest promises coming from the prettiest girl he has ever seen.

“Fuck baby… You’re gonna be the death of me someday, you know that?” He asked in a playful little smirk, and you attacked. Your soft hand wrapped around his aching hard cock. He groaned softly.

“But at least you’ll die happy.” You purred, gifting him a few seconds to prepare himself before finally leaning in to swirl your tongue skillfully over the head of his dripping cock. Thomas let out a guttural moan, his hand gripping his desk behind him in an attempt to steady himself. His head fell back, the texture of your wet, warm tongue erasing each and every thought off his mind. It all became you and you only. You licking him, tasting his sensitive tip, you pleasing him.

“Fuck, baby… My perfect girl…” He managed to choke out, affected yet addicted. Your tongue swirled over him expertly, and you looked up at him. A sweet happy hum reverberated in your throat as you tasted the salt of his precum. Every drop that ran down his tip not making it far thanks to your eager licks. Your hum sent vibrations up his cock, making him feel like his knees were about to buckle under him. The only time he appreciated feeling vulnerable.

Tommy looked down at you servicing him, taking your sweet time on his sensitive tip. The fire in your eyes recognized his and burnt with it.

“Holy-f-fuck.. my girl knows how to suck her daddy’s cock so good….” He groaned, and you took more of his lengthy cock in your mouth, working your way down and sucking it, your tongue massaging it slowly.

He tried his best to maintain his composure and control, but another swirl of your tongue made him admit to himself that he would not last long.

“F-fuck, baby girl… You keep going like that…” He groaned, gripping the edge of the wooden desk harder and urging you.

You bobbed your head on his cock in a skillful rhythm. The sounds coming from you were so filthy and obscene. Nothing could have torn his gaze away from you. It was a war between him and his throbbing cock. He wanted more, desperately needed more, but his orgasm neared closer than his next breath.

“You’re too good to me, baby girl… You’re gonna make daddy come… And it’s gonna be right in your pretty mouth, and you’re gonna take every last drop, aren’t you?” He cooed with one hand touching the top of your head for support. You bobbed your head, up and down his shaft, with your nose bumping his pelvic area. You looked up and hummed in response. You always swallowed.

Noting his increasing pleasure, you pushed yourself to take more of his thick cock. You gagged a little and earned a loud moan from him akin to music to your ears.

“Goood girl… Good girl.” With his praise like a mantra, he watched over you, almost out of breath. “That's it. I'm gonna come for you… ‘m gonna come in this mouth and you’re gonna swallow all of it, aren’t you baby?” He repeated, unaware by now. No thoughts inside his head, only your perfect mouth that pulled back for just a second.

“Yes, daddy.” You purred, looking up at him with innocent eyes before taking him in your mouth again, this time working faster and with much more intensity. Constantly swiping against the underside of his thick cock.

Thomas had to resist the urge of bucking into your mouth and fuck your face just the way he likes, but he found the willpower to stay calm. This was all about you pleasing him, putting that mouth of yours to work and thanking him.

“Good girl, such a good fuckin’ girl…” He praised, his orgasm so close to hitting him and knocking him flat out. “Now, remember, baby girl… What’s my rule?” His voice almost cracked. Dominance was a hard thing to upkeep when his balls tightened this hard and your throat hummed around him. Your pussy grew wetter at the mention of the rule, one you had committed to memory.

“Before you can swallow, you have to show it to daddy... Need to see my come all over your pretty tongue, hmm?” Thomas said, barely hanging on at this point. One of his hands holding your hair back and the other gripping the desk behind him for stability.

You hummed as loud and as best as you can, his thick cock barely giving up space for sound to travel. You kept sucking him, and his resistance was hung on by a thread, ready to snap at any moment. His moans, his heavy breaths, the hot puffs of air he lets out, the way his cock throbbed in your mouth… You wanted him done for.

Your hand came up, gently cupping his balls and giving them a soft squeeze. His breath hitched and he cursed under his breath.

“Holy fuck, baby-” He choked out, and everything snapped inside him. “Coming..” That was the only word he managed to utter before his resolve crumbled and his orgasm hit him like a tidal wave. His hand grabbed your hair firmly, but not painfully, keeping you there, ready to take it all.

Your movements stopped in anticipation and his cock pulsed inside your mouth. A salty load of cum coated your tongue completely and his sensual low groan filled your ears. His eyelids fluttered shut for a moment and his lips stayed parted. When every last drop was unloaded, he opened his eyes back again and looked at you intently.

“Show daddy…” He murmured, his voice a little strained. You obeyed, pulling off him and sitting back on your knees. With pride, you stuck out your cum-painted tongue for his viewing pleasure.

“My good girl.” Tommy praised. You were indeed so good. So obedient. So perfect for him. “You can swallow now, baby girl.”

His hand petted the top of your head with appreciative softness, and you, living up to his praise, did as he said. The salt taste of his cum mixing with your saliva before passing down your throat. A soft hum of approval coming from you made him smile ever so gently.

He reached down to pull up his pants, tucking his now soft, sensitive and tired cock back into his boxers and buttoning his dress pants. He reached his hands down, pulling you up from the floor easily into his arms. When you were close to his face, you gave him a cheeky little smile. His hands cupped your face and gently pulled you in for a burning hot, passionate kiss. His tongue invaded your mouth, making him taste himself on you. A pervertedly satisfied smile crept into the kiss.

Slowly, he pulled back, looking at you with half-lidded eyes.

“You know… If all it took to get you to do that for me is to buy you a horse… I think I'll buy you a horse, or anything else you want every single day for the rest of your life.” Tommy whispered in a mix of sensuality but also pure, deep love.

Your eyes twinkled a bit and a soft smile appeared on your face. He was just as obsessed with you as you were with him.

“Deal”.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy characters #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #thomas shelby smut #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #thomas shelby fanfic

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imhappierthanever · 2 months ago

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Billie Care

Laryngitis. She had it all week and what a nightmare it had been. But you as Billie’s girlfriend had been by her side constantly throughout it all. You went to the doctor when they prescribed her Prednisone, you had been there through her mirror shattering phase of taking the steroid and now she was on her emotional crying phase.

You loved her through it all, making sure you took the best care of her that you could. You cuddled her and made her cups of tea to soothe her. You kissed her between cough drops and whenever you had to give her medicine, rewarding her each time after. Whenever she tried to talk you pressed your lips against hers, reminding her how important it was for her to rest her voice. No matter how much you missed it.

Billie pouted, grabbing your face, kissing you hard and with purpose. You knew exactly what they knew exactly what that sorta kiss was, as she began to let her hands roam your body, resting at the bottom of the jumper you had stolen from her. You were quick to grab her hands breaking the kiss to tell her as soon as she was better you would reward her and make it worth her while. She frowned, crossing her arms like a little kid who didn’t get their way. You couldn’t help but smile as you kissed her cheek, pulling a blanket over you both and turning on one of her favourite movies for her. She laid her head in your lap and you played with her hair, tangling her dark luscious locks around your fingers, letting your fingers trace shapes against her skin every now and then. You knew she loved the skin to skin contact, it was the least you could do for her.

By the middle of the week you could tell she was feeling better than she had been. At least feeling okay enough to get through Variety’s Power of Women event. You helped her get dressed in her iconic all black attire, and you talked about what she would say briefly before she took the stage, a beautiful and emotional wreck. She made everyone laugh straight away as she told everyone exactly what steroid she had been taking to cure her laryngitis. And that she didn’t usually cry.

Billie also mentioned she didn’t love giving speeches, she told everyone she would rather sing and “give-her platform to people who knew what the fuck they were talking about.

But then you watched her seriousness take over, and you felt so happy that she felt so proud to be a woman. And how proud of her mother she was. And then she thanked you for always inspiring her, and in her eyes truly defining what it meant to be a woman. She said how happy she was to have you, and that you took the absolute best care of her, mentioning that with you around she hadn’t broken a single thing all week being on the steroid and you felt yourself laughing through your tears as you ran over to give Billie one of the biggest kisses you had shared to date as she walked off the stage, wrapping her arms around you.

“I love you so much, Billie.” You said kissing her sweetly. Thanking her before you knew you had to let her go perform. She kissed you back with the same passion, telling you she loved you more and that you would finish this later. You couldn’t help but smile as you watched her walk off, ready to hear her beautiful voice fill the room again, for the first time in a week.

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Note: hope it’s not too boring. I only got the idea as I was falling asleep at the airport, waiting to board my who knows what number flight, trying to avoid humans

#billie eilish #billie x reader #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish x you #billie x fem!reader

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saurongorthaur9 · 18 days ago

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So, in the last couple months, I've gotten a few different people commenting on my fanfiction commenting/reviewing methods. I've been involved in fanfic communities since 2008 and I've reviewed literally thousands of stories. I also like leaving long, fairly detailed comments, and I've had multiple people asking me for tips on commenting and what my process is. I needed to take a little break amidst the chaos of packing for a 2000 mile move, so I thought I'd write up a little guide for tips and tricks on leaving great reviews. So here you go: SG's Guide to Commenting on Fanfics!

First of all, my method. I take notes as I read personally. My preferred method is saving stories to my laptop and then highlighting parts I want to comment on, but there are any number of alternate methods, such as using a note app on your phone or jotting down physical notes in a notebook, if you're old-school like that :)

Then, here are my tips on ways to write great comments! (And a reminder, these are just tips, not rules! There is no Fanfiction Comments Bible I am using here, just my own experience for how I write my comments/reviews, so take or leave any portions of it that you want. But hopefully, if you are new to commenting or wanting to leave more detailed comments, you'll find something helpful here.

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1. First, you can never go wrong with an enthusiastic "OMG I loved this! *keyboard smash* *kudos*" I can guarantee you that there is no author out there who doesn't appreciate unbridled enthusiasm about the content they spent hours, days, weeks, or even months working on.

2. Quote passages that stood out to you, then tell the author how that passage made you feel. From my experience, authors love knowing specific passages that impacted their reader. I usually will format it something like this: *Quote from story* Oh my gosh, this piece of dialogue made me laugh so hard...or... *Quote from story* I seriously teared up here, so beautiful.

3. Were there places where the characterization was just spot on? Let the author know. It can be something simple like "When x character did x, that felt SO in character!"

4. Did the characters make you feel emotions? Again, let the author know. "When x character did x, I wanted to punch them so hard!" or "Aw, when x character kissed x character, I felt so warm and fuzzy!"

5. Was there a descriptive passage that felt super realistic? You can say something like "When you described that waterfall, I felt like I was right there" or "When x character was pulling out that splinter, I was squirming the whole time".

6. For a little bit of a more expert reviewer tip, comment on things that author has done to expand or add to the world. This can look like a variety of different comments, but here are some examples. "I love how you've delved into x character's backstory or psychology with your story. I've always found them intriguing and wondered why they made x choice." "Your OC fits so well into this world. I could totally see this character going about their life during the canon events." "I really enjoy that you're exploring x culture in your story; I loved the description of the festival at the beginning."

7. For a really expert tip, comment on the little easter eggs you notice in fics. From my experience, authors are utterly delighted when readers pick up the little tidbits they've meticulously hidden or ways they've shown off their technical skills. This requires more in-depth knowledge of how writing and stories work however. This can look like comments like these: "OMG, I saw what you did there with that foreshadowing when x character said x!" or "That was really clever how you showed a parallel between this character over here and that character over there."

8. Finally, thank the author! They put lots of effort into creating this piece of art that you've just enjoyed; let them know you appreciate their time, creativity, and effort. And if it's a multi-chapter story or a series, let them know you're invested without being pushy for an update. I like saying something like this at the end of my reviews: "Thank you so much for sharing your work with us! I am so excited to see where the story is going whenever you share the next chapter. Cheers!"

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And of course, remember that a simple comment is better than no comment! I know I'm very much not the only person to have said this, but comments are an essential part of the Fandom ecosystem. If you only have time or energy to leave a quick "I loved it!" then do that! You will make the author's day, I guarantee. But if you're considering whether or not to leave a comment at all, please remember that all fanfic authors are people who have poured enormous amounts of time and effort into the thing you've just enjoyed (to give you an idea, it takes me an average of about 60-80 hours PER CHAPTER to write Gorthauro Estel).

I've also seen posts from people about fears of saying the wrong thing in a review. There are very few "wrong" things to say, but just to allay any fears one might have, I've compiled a quick list of what to avoid in your review.

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Don't beg for updates. Getting an "Update please!" review on a WIP that you haven't been able to work on for whatever reasons is always discouraging. I can understand how a beginning reviewer could see it as a complement, but as someone myself who is slow to update, I can tell you that it only puts a larger sense of pressure, weight, and discouragement on the writer. If you want to let the writer know you are looking forward to an update and are invested in the story, look at my last point in the comment tips above.

Going along with that, don't comment on how long it's been since the story has been updated. During some of my gaps where I just couldn't write for a number of different reasons, I would get frequent comments along the lines of "wow, this story hasn't been updated in a year, are you ever going to update?" Those reviews would make me feel SO bad. I was always intimately aware of how long it had been, and I think most authors are the same. Instead, writing a sweet, enthusiastic review with some of the tips above might just give the author the emotional and mental juice to work on that stalled WIP again.

If the author has a different headcanon about a character, event, etc that doesn't line up with your headcanon, don't comment on it. I recently got a review complaining that I write my Sauron as someone attracted to women. I personally headcanon Sauron as heteroromantic demisexual (which is also what I am), and that's the way I portray him in my fics. If the author's headcanon doesn't line up with yours and it bothers you enough to want to comment on it, that story might just not be for you. If you choose to read the fic, you are choosing to enter into the world of the author's headcanon and you should be respectful of it.

Similarly, if the author makes a choice for where to take their story that you don't care for, don't comment on it. You are perfectly within your rights to stop reading if you don't like the way the author chooses to take their story, but it is their story.

Don't point out mistakes unless you know whether the author is comfortable with it or not. I am personally fine with people pointing out typos or the like to me in public reviews, but some people can be sensitive about it. Check with the author privately rather than leaving a public comment to see what they are comfortable with.

Basically, it comes down to the old adage, if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. If you keep your comments positive rather than negative, you're unlikely to say anything "wrong".

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Hopefully, this has been helpful! Now go forth and comment!

#fanfiction #fanfiction.net #archive of our own #ao3 #ffn #fanfic #fanfic authors #fanfic writing #fanfic comments #fanfic community #fanfic review #fanfic readers

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nerinefy · 1 year ago

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FOREVER YOURS, TRULY...! — NEW YEAR'S SPECIAL PART I

PART II — JING YUAN (TO BE FOLLOWED)

★ synopsis: during a stroll, you find yourself facing him- the love of your life, down on one knee as the clock strikes 12 and the striking lights of the fireworks dance across the sky. despite the blaring noises heard in the background, there is only one thing you hear, "will you be with me? now and forever...?"

★ details: pronouns: you/yours | imagine | fluff | 700+ words

★ DAN HENG ★

You and the Astral Express Crew decided to visit Aurum Alley for their latest festivities for the new year. Due to all the stellaron catching and unrelated side quests along the way, you have never had the chance to explore the rich variety of goods sold throughout the market. Holding hands, you and Dan Heng went and strolled through the bustling streets. It was still quite a gentle and intimate moment despite the rush the alley was filled with. It wasn't often you two had the time to loosen up and think about each other's warmth and presence.

"Oh look, I've been meaning to try those new snacks they have at Tall Auntie's!" March 7th, who in fact was also there the whole time, informed the two of you. "I'll go buy some so sadly I'll have to leave you two here. I mean, not that it's your losses..." She grinned and winked at the two of you while pointing finger guns. "So am I coming or...?" Caelus asks. The pink-haired girl stared at him, annoyed before grabbing his hand with a tug, "we'll be off then," she said as they slowly disappeared into the crowd. In turn, Dan Heng sighed at the two's antics but then turned his face to look at you, squeezing your hand slightly.

With a deep breath, he asks, "Would you like to go somewhere?"

You tilt your head, "Why? Where? And uh...aren't you forgetting the-"

"Do you trust me?" he interrupts the string of thoughts you're blurting out in confusion.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, "I guess they're fine on their own. The blind leading the blind."

He chuckles lightly, "They'll be Welt's problem now sadly." He then leads you towards a secluded place up and near the beautiful shimmering skies.

"Woah, where did you find this place? The view's majestic!" You ask in astonishment, your eyes shining even brighter than the stars above.

"I think I've seen this place somewhere in his memories, and I thought I'd like to show it to you too..." He answered, his eyes wandering towards the sky. "I just realized that...all of these missions we go to...it was just- it was different..." He begins. "Right after you came and traveled with us...everything changed. You gave me more purpose in this life and I'm so grateful for the color you've spread in this world, in our world. Dire situations still give me hope and unwanted circumstances still give me the push to go on...all because of you. Going through all these expeditions and knowing you're there by my side, fills me with ease I've never felt before. You gave me a new home, a place of serenity and security...all in your arms. I know I've been blabbering too much, so I'll stop and get straight to the point..." He says as he slowly gets down on one knee, revealing the small velvet box he's been holding onto the whole time. Sweat dripped down his forehead and his palms began to get shaky despite the snow falling around you- that's the effect you have on him. You gasp as you realize, tears forming in your eyes. "I may not promise forever, but 'til the end of our lives...may I be yours and will you be mine?"

You then grabbed him by the collar to lift him and kissed him, lip to lip, skin to skin, as the fireworks began shooting up to the sky. "I don't want to spend the new year with you." You mumble in between kisses, the man in front of you then wrinkles his forehead in disappointment. "I want to spend my whole life with you..." you giggle as he sighs in relief.

"Happy New Year, my love..." he mutters, a faint blush tainting his pale skin. Click You look from the sides in surprise as you see the crew standing in awe.

"Sorry Dan Heng, we couldn't help it! We just had to..." March 7th says, still holding the camera up near her eye, and Caelus smiling at the two of you.

"Congratulations...I hope we still see you two after the wedding," Welt says while giving you a nod of approval.

"I hope not to see you all after this..." Dan Heng sighs, hiding a chuckle under his breath. With that, you feel a squeeze on your hand once more, and you're reminded that you're not alone anymore. He's forever yours, truly.

#꒷₊˚ ꒰ఎ rinnie's works! ໒꒱ ‧˚₊꒷#honkai: star rail #honkai star rail #honkai sr #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #dan heng x reader #dan heng #hsr dan heng #honkai star rail dan heng #dan feng #march 7th #caelus #welt yang

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the-daydreaming-show · 3 days ago

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(3.) Dreams Made Heavy.

SUMMARY: It's the celebration of Nyx's first birthday.

Your time in illusion is running out and the past is ending, unable to bear its own weight any longer.

NOTE: I love this chapter because Feyre is so excited to bring the reader into her life and introduce her to her son, it's adorable. Let me know what you think of this chapter and how things are going, I'm always happy to hear your thoughts. As always, English is not my first language so sorry for spelling mistakes and mistakes of the type, any comment on it is welcome if it is respectful. I am always trying to get comfortable and improve my writing in this language. I hope you like it. XOXO Ella

Memories/Thoughts in italics

Dragon Language in bold italics

Previus Part: (2.) EMBRACING ILLUSIONS

AO3 / Story Masterlist

“What lived and died between us—haunts me still.” – «The Chronology of Water: A Memoir» by Lidia Yuknavitch.

Lying on your back in bed, you held the hand-painted parchment invitation above your head, looking up at it with the expression of someone who knew they had flown too close to the sun.

Feyre had painted the invitations herself—each one was different—and, in her words, they were meant as a sort of souvenir, something for each recipient to keep as a memento of the very special occasion that was Nyx’s first birthday. You didn’t know what the others looked like, but you guessed that not all of them had the shadows of three little dragons flying in the corner of the invitation. The boy’s name and what looked like a tiny fingerprint also decorated the small square of parchment, proving that he had helped create it as well. You ran your thumb over the shape of the boy’s print, which seemed to reach out to the three dragons in the corner.

“I told you that you should have brought more of a variety of outfits,” Mayhem reminded you flatly from her spot on the balcony, sitting cross-legged with her dress bunched around her as she settled in for her prayer.

With that, you snapped back to harsh reality, dropping your arms carefully so as not to ruin the invitation, and rolled over onto your stomach, wanting to drown yourself in the mattress as you let out a tearful cry.

As if that was the main problem in the whole situation, you thought, too hopeless to put it into words just yet. Of course, you wouldn't tell your court how deeply you had gotten yourself into the mud of this situation—not when they had clearly warned you it would happen, and not when you had known, deep down, that it would.

But I think it’s what I need, you had told Armin when he warned you about the consequences. And maybe you really did need it. You needed to see the beauty of the life Feyre had now, to let her go, even if it would break your heart. But you didn’t want to. You realized you weren’t sure how you would survive that. Still, there was no way out now—you were up to your neck in the consequences of your own decisions, of what you had asked for. You had wanted to see Feyre one last time, to know she was okay. And now you have gotten your wish.

“I don’t think a kid’s first birthday has much of a dress code, especially if it’s just a family gathering,” Luka added from his spot in the desk chair, practicing his penmanship on different birthday gift card options while experimenting with different ways to hold the pen with his missing finger. “Let's just be grateful if the gift has a decent bow.”

“It’s the birthday of the heir to the court. For all we know, it could be a gala, even if it’s just a family affair. It wouldn’t be unusual for people with the kind of money that the High Lord and High Lady have,” May said without changing her tone as she placed her hands in position to begin her prayer.

“It wouldn’t be the first time she’s shown up in riding gear to an event like that, either,” Luka whispered, focusing on his movements on the paper.

“What’s wrong with my outfits?” you finally asked, wanting to divert the conversation, lifting your head from the pillow. “They’re all very nice and comfortable.”

“And they all smell like ash and burnt leather,” Mayhem stated before beginning to whisper her affirmations.

You gulped. You needed something to do, and figuring out party etiquette suddenly sounded like a great activity. You didn’t say anything, and no one paid you any mind as you got out of bed and walked out of the room, into the hallways of the house, on a mission to find Nesta and question her about what she might be planning for her nephew’s birthday party. Would she give him a birthday card or just the bow? Who was going? And any other information she was willing to share so that your anxiety could drown in the comfort of knowing a little more about what to expect.

When you had offered to give Feyre Nyx’s gift so she could take it to him, she had ended up handing you that beautiful invitation with the child’s name, time, and place for the party. But she had told you that the birthday hadn’t happened yet, and giving gifts or celebrating early was a no-no in mortal culture, as it was considered bad luck. So, she couldn’t accept the gift, and instead, she had invited you to the party, pulling the invitation out of her pocket and handing it to you.

You told yourself that you wanted to see if Feyre was happy, to see if everything was as it seemed. This is the perfect opportunity to do so. Don’t complain. You repeat to yourself as you walk.

As you turned into a hallway, you came across Morrigan walking toward you.

“You look like a woman on a mission,” Morrigan declared as she approached. “May I help you with it?”

“Indeed, you can,” you replied with a knowing smile. Morrigan simply followed suit.

Morrigan took you out of the house the next morning with Mayhem in tow. Your bodyguard had refused to let you go alone, following you in deathly silence despite your insistence that you could manage on your own.

It was interesting to see your friend, Mayhem—thin, pale as a ghost, with long, straight dark hair falling past her waist and piercing eyes like stone—contrast with Morrigan, who was tall, blonde, and radiant, her smile dressed in reds and golds as she walked elegantly through the city. Morrigan talked a lot, while May watched her out of the corner of her eye, expressionless, merely analyzing. She took you both shopping, exchanging gold for the currency used at court.

“Personally, this outing suits me well. I don’t know what I’ll wear yet, and if Feyre paints a picture of the occasion, I want my nephew to see that his favorite aunt was the best-dressed since before he could even remember,” the blonde commented, linking her arm with yours as she walked.

“At this point, the only standard I have is that it not be riding clothes, as has been widely pointed out,” you replied, casting an accusatory look at Mayhem, who simply shrugged, knowing she wouldn’t regret her insistence.

“I’m afraid I have to agree with that—you need more variety in your wardrobe.” Morrigan shot May a knowing look, which she didn’t return. Instead, your friend put on a pitying expression and looked away. Morrigan, however, didn’t seem offended or put off by her reaction. “Uh, let’s start with this store. It’s one of my favorites.”

Morrigan pulled your arm into a sudden U-turn that nearly made you trip, while Mayhem hurried to catch up, trying to return to your side as quickly as possible. You managed to straighten up before entering the store, where a kind woman immediately greeted Morrigan by name, and the scent of lavender filled your nostrils.

Your escort broke away from you to chat about the occasion she needed an outfit for, expressing her excitement about the birthday, while you and Mayhem wandered slowly through the store together.

You quickly let Mayhem take the lead, walking ahead of you and browsing options on your behalf, given your clear lack of enthusiasm and ideas after the first two rows of hangers. You rejected skirts of any length—not because you didn’t like them, but because riding a dragon in them often led to painful scrapes on your legs. And since you never knew when you’d be flying Balerion, you avoided them whenever possible.

Instead, you picked out a loose-fitting pair of pants. While they wouldn’t be ideal for riding due to the excess fabric, they would suffice in an emergency. You left Mayhem to decide on the color and wandered toward the shirts, where Morrigan was supposed to be—though you couldn’t see her among the hanging clothes.

Taking advantage of the illusion of privacy, you asked a question.

“Morrigan, will you give the birthday boy a card along with your gift?” You spoke into the air, waiting patiently for an answer as you admired the shirts, t-shirts, and tops around you. But when no immediate response came, you suddenly felt the need to justify your question. “I know he can’t read—it’s only his first birthday. But Fey enjoys keeping memories.”

“First of all, I’m giving him too many presents to include a card with each one.” You jumped in place when her voice sounded much closer than expected. “Second, call me Mor. And third—” Morrigan rounded the corner of the same row of hangers you were hiding behind, looking at you in amusement. “Fey?”

You felt like a deer caught in headlights. Or rather, like Balerion when you caught him stealing cattle.

Mor, carrying several red and purple dresses in her arms, walked toward you with a friendly smile. Mayhem, as silent as your anxiety, appeared at your side, making you glance over as she placed three pairs of pants in your arms, giving you a knowing look.

Are you okay? her eyes asked as she carefully arranged the clothes in your arms, hangers included. You nodded quickly while she adjusted the garments on your elbow.

“Yes, it’s—” You swallowed, realizing your mouth was dry, then turned to Mor. “It’s what I called her when we were kids. Pronouncing ‘Feyre’ was too much for me back then—my country accent kept me from being understood.”

Mayhem settled next to you, browsing through the pants among the shirts. You mimicked her, and Morrigan wasted no time joining in, glancing at the pants in your arms before helping with the search.

“You had an accent?” Mor asked casually. “Sometimes I swear I hear something in Feyre’s tone, but not enough to place it. Is that it? Did she have one?” She then lifted the sleeve of a nearby shirt, holding it against the fabric of one of the pants to check the match, only to let it go with a frown.

“No, actually, in all the years I knew her, she never quite managed to shake off her posh, aristocratic accent. She sounds pretty normal now—I guess time has won in that regard,” you explained, recalling little Feyre elegantly asking how to set up a rabbit trap in the woods. Even now, the memory was amusing. Morrigan must have agreed because she let out a genuine laugh.

“And your accent? What happened to it?” Mor asked, looking up from the shirts to meet your gaze. This time, you didn’t avoid her eyes or her question. Instead, you met her gaze and answered.

“Courtesans with accents aren’t well regarded unless they sound ‘exotic,’ and I didn’t fall into that category by any standard. So, I was trained until I lost it,” you explained simply, turning toward another rack of more casual tops. Mayhem mirrored you without thinking, even though none of the clothes in front of her now matched the outfit she had been planning with the pants.

As you browsed side by side, Mayhem silently took your hand, squeezing your fingers. You looked at her. She smiled sadly—a quiet comfort, an “I understand you”. Because even though Mayhem had never been trained as a courtesan, when she was raised to be a hired assassin for a slave master in the bay, they had done the same thing to her as they had to you. They trained her to forget who she was and become what was expected of her.

“What was she like?” Morrigan asked. You had almost forgotten she was standing next to you, but you turned to her, murmuring in confusion.

“Feyre, when you were children. What was she like?”

You thought for a moment. You could have said more if you had started, though at the end of the day, it wouldn’t have changed the fact that you genuinely believed the answer you ended up giving her.

“Not much different from now,” you pointed out softly, to which Morrigan raised an eyebrow. “But smaller, of course, and with an insatiable need to learn.”

“And with an elegant accent?” Morrigan smiled mischievously.

“Yes, my lady.” The phrase, mimicking the elegant, exaggerated tone Feyre used to have as a child, made Morrigan burst into laughter.

“She sounded like that?!?” she asked between giggles.

“Don’t tell her I told you—she always said it was my imagination. But I swear to anyone that she sounded exactly like that,” you told her, while May, noticing that you were calmer, returned to searching for shirts to match the pants.

“I’ll take it to the grave,” Morrigan assured, her eyes glinting with honesty and amusement, a look that went unnoticed by you. “Come on, you need some good boots for those pants.”

With that, Morrigan led you toward the stairs of the store, May hurrying behind both of you, shirts in hand, as you headed up to the second floor where the shoes were.

To Mayhem's bewilderment, Morrigan made sure to give—and impose—her opinions on the outfit the black-haired girl was putting together for you, quickly realizing that you had little drive or interest in making choices yourself, trusting their judgment without much thought. As the day went on, you got the impression that the blonde had started to genuinely enjoy debating Mayhem’s choices, gradually drawing her into longer discussions, getting her to argue more and more as the hours passed.

You picked out the pants from the first store, but May wasn’t convinced by anything else there, so the three of you scoured nearly every shop in Velaris to piece together your outfit. Jewelry became the biggest battleground between Morrigan’s yin and Mayhem’s yang, reaching its peak when May delivered a twelve-word speech to Morrigan about why silver jewelry suited you better than gold. Morrigan’s defeat did nothing to deter her—if anything, she seemed to enjoy it. When you finally walked out with the silver jewelry May had carefully selected, your two shopping companions each latched onto one of your arms, and off you went.

“I’ll pick you up at the House. And don’t even think about putting those pants on that beast’s saddle.” That was the last thing she said before leaving you in the living room of the House of Wind—then she disappeared without another word.

You wished you had put on a riding suit. Leather would have made you feel safer than the soft, airy fabric of the fancy pants you had bought. You regretted the logic that had led you to avoid Mayhem accompanying you—and the fact that it had worked.

“If I’m going to be killed at the birthday party, there’s nothing you can do. It’s a gathering of the most powerful beings on this continent—and all the continents—so it probably won’t make any difference whether you’re here or not.”

You were right. Mayhem knew that. But once you arrived, you realized that her silent support would have been invaluable. Mor had dragged you into the house happily, as if there was nothing wrong with your presence. Yet you could feel the guests’ wary gazes, and soon after, she left you alone—standing at the entrance to the living room with your gift in hand—while she excitedly went to greet the other guests. There was no way to feel balanced, but at least now you knew that it wasn’t just your side that was the problem.

Someone called your name, and before you knew it, Elain Archeron was in front of you, wrapping you in a hug.

“Hi,” you greeted her tentatively, trying to hug her back without dropping the gift in your hands. The gift was a small, handmade wooden chest carved with stars and the moon, barely bigger than your hand, wrapped with a perfect bow—one that Luka had managed to tie despite having one less finger than usual. He had been very proud of it.

“Hello,” Elain replied, pulling away and looking at you with emotion in her eyes. “How are you?”

A glimpse of the human life she once had—that’s what this was, you thought. It was no secret in your court how unhappy the middle Archeron was about her life as a High Fae, and how she openly longed to be human again. Elain was not comfortable in her own skin. You could understand that, and you smiled back at her because of it.

“Well, it was refreshing to have a change of scenery after so much time in the desert,” you commented softly, watching as she looked at you intently before hooking her arm around yours and gently pulling you toward an armchair in the empty living room.

“I’ve seen the dragons in the sky since you arrived,” she explained, smiling as they sat down peacefully. “They seem to enjoy the mountains, and the blue one always seems to stay near the flowers.”

“Yeah, they’re not used to seeing so many colors,” you explained, carefully placing the gift on your lap and making sure the bow didn’t shift from its perfect position.

“Balerion is the oldest, right? He’s quite large compared to the others,” she commented softly, her curiosity genuine.

“Of those who accompanied me here, yes, he’s the oldest. He was born in the volcanoes, but he’s the second-born of all the dragons—they have an older sister and a younger one,” you explained calmly. Elain listened attentively, and you didn’t mind. You loved talking about your dragons. “The other two that came with me are Caraxes and Dreamfyre. They hatched in the desert.”

“You need to stop pestering the poor woman with questions,” Nesta’s voice cut in as she sat sideways at the head of the chair. “She’s been obsessed ever since you flew over the city when you arrived, and she won’t stop asking me questions,” she added, taking a sip of her fruit juice.

“And you have no answers, Nesta,” Elain complained, turning her gaze back to you. “The blue one of the two—the middle one. What is its name? I always see it flying over the flower meadows outside the city.”

“Her name is Dreamfyre. The flowers in the desert—the few that grow—don’t have much of a scent, so the flowers here fascinate her. That’s why she’s always camping out in the meadows,” you explained. Elain seemed ecstatic, her eyes lighting up at the information, but before she could say anything else, another voice interrupted the conversation.

“Elain, I told you not to pester her with questions as soon as she got here,” Feyre scolded, sounding somewhat embarrassed as she approached you at a quick pace. She was wearing a dress. “Sorry, she’s been obsessed with them ever since you arrived.”

“That’s what Nesta told me. But don’t worry, it’s nice to talk about them out of curiosity,” you commented, smiling softly at Elain.

It’s nice to talk about them as if they were nothing more than weapons to be used in war, you wanted to say, but that would be saying too much.

Elain, seeing that her questions didn’t bother you, prepared to ask another, but Feyre’s hand suddenly appeared in both of your fields of vision, drawing your attention away from your curiosity. Standing in front of you, dressed in the style of her court, her hair half-up and decorated with pearl stars in a style very similar to Nesta’s—though with more hair cascading down her back—Feyre offered you her hand, a gleam in her eyes.

“Come,” she said, gently taking your hand and pulling you toward her. “I want to introduce you to someone.”

Feyre lifted you off the couch and led you down a hallway that stretched deeper into the house. The sounds of the party faded as the steady tug of her hand guided you through the house, and you nervously held your gift to your chest the entire way.

The silence of the house was suffocating as you moved forward, and you became hyper aware of the way she wouldn’t let go of your hand. In a sudden turn that took you by surprise, Feyre took the opportunity to intertwine your fingers more firmly, and you didn’t know what disturbed you more—the touch of another human being, something you had grown sensitive to since leaving the volcano, or the fact that it was her hand holding yours. The one who hid so many secrets from you that simply being in her presence made you feel tainted. You felt disrespectful.

You two climbed the stairs and then turned the final corner of the path, at which point you saw Cassian and Azriel, both casually standing on either side of a particular door. Guarding. That’s when you realized, with the same feeling as someone who had just received a punch to the stomach, who you were about to be introduced to. You quickly adjusted the gift in your hand, praying that the bow hadn’t shifted from its place when you pressed it against your chest, and Cassian waved at you as you walked past him, entering the room.

There was a huge stained glass window that offered a beautiful view of the mountains and the meadow of flowers Elain had mentioned earlier. From there, you could see your three dragons in the distance. Standing in front of the stained glass and looking at them was Rhysand, with little Nyx sitting on his hip, pointing and babbling. You stood in your spot, watching the child interact with his father, squeezing Feyre’s hand, torn between your own decision.

You looked at her, as if ready to lend a helping hand if she was sure of what she was going to do. After almost a decade of not seeing each other, you wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t feel comfortable introducing her son. But she was looking at you with an excited smile, genuinely happy that you were there about to do what you were going to do, and guilt closed your throat as you let her happily lead you over to where Rhysand was holding the child by the window. He turned to greet you as soon as he heard your footsteps, though you had no doubt he had known you were there long before. He smiled softly every time your gaze met as you approached. He didn’t look uncomfortable either; in fact, he seemed the calmest of the three because Feyre was vibrating with excitement and you were almost frozen with fear. If he felt uneasy about the situation, he didn’t show it for a second. When he greeted you by name as you reached his side, you managed to sense that the arrangement held back a little too strongly.

The bow, you scolded yourself as you breathed, looking at him and checking the state of the bow.

Nyx noticed his mom standing next to him and reached out to her as he babbled, and Feyre closed the distance between them, happily receiving him and resting him on her hip. She whispered your name excitedly as she looked at the chubby boy in her arms, then raised her head to smile.

“This is Nyx,” she proudly introduced, then pointed at you softly, drawing the boy’s attention in your direction. “Nyx, this is y/n.”

The pride in her voice and the smile on her face as she approached you with the child in her arms were undeniable, and it was also the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. At that moment, you panicked; you didn’t show it, but you looked at Rhysand, trying to convey: This is the moment where you get protective of your child or something and end this encounter. But the idiot was staring at his wife and child, mesmerized.

“Say hello, Nyx,” Feyre asked sweetly, moving closer to you and leaving you no choice but to accept the situation. Ever since you had met Rhysand, you had tried not to think too much around him because of the information you had received about his abilities, but now you could only think about wanting to know what he was thinking. It had been planned that something very different would happen, and you had even been advised not to bring the gift for Nyx because it could be taken the wrong way. Yet Rhysand didn’t seem to be reacting to the situation, which made you more anxious than anything. Meanwhile, little Nyx, with his chubby hand, made a greeting motion towards you along with a little sound that you assumed was the closest he could get to saying hello.

“Hello,” you greeted back, shifting uncomfortably, not knowing what to do. “Umm, I brought you a gift; it’s some toys.”

“I’m sure you can’t get enough of those. Right, my love?” Feyre ran her hand through the boy’s curly black hair, giving you a moment to admire him more closely.

You noticed two things. The boy’s wings weren’t in sight, which meant they were either hidden or he had already developed the ability to hide them. He was the spitting image of his mother. Yes, he had his father’s hair, skin, and reportedly wings, but it was Feyre’s eyes, color, and shape, as well as his nose and the shape of his lips.

“He looks just like you,” you pointed out, reaching up to run a finger over the freckles on the boy’s nose, just as you used to do with Feyre. The little boy looked at you, his eyes wide with surprise and curiosity.

“Really?” Feyre asked, her eyes alight with excitement.

“Yes. It’s a mini you, Fey.” You assured her without looking at her. Feyre didn’t say anything else, but you could feel her beaming with happiness; her enthusiasm was almost contagious, to the point that you smiled softly at the child who was watching you intently. Nyx reached out his hand towards you, pointing and looking at his mother, asking a silent question, to which Feyre repeated your name. The baby babbled and looked at you, as if waiting for you to answer.

Rhysand decided to make a move at that moment. He stood next to Feyre and met your gaze before the questions began.

“May I?” he said, pointing to the wooden trunk you still held in your hand. You handed it to him without much thought, your hands feeling the loss of something to hold onto. You missed your gloves and regretted not putting on any rings.

Rhysand pulled at one of the strips of the undone bow, all under your watchful eye. Feyre peeked out a little to see as he removed the small latch from the trunk and lifted the lid, revealing your gift. Inside the trunk, resting on a padded base, were three toy dragons, carved in intricate detail from wood and with polished black stone eyes.

“They’re very popular in the bay. I chose these because I thought that since Nyx would probably be able to see them through the window, bringing him the same ones he would see would be more appealing than a regular dragon. Maybe he would enjoy them more. The kids in the bay even collect them, so...” you explained hurriedly as you watched Rhysand pull out the one that was Balerion and stare at it.

“They’re beautiful,” Feyre whispered breathlessly, pulling mini Caraxes out of the box and looking at the carved wood intently.

Rhysand and Feyre seemed fine with the gifts; they hadn’t moved the boy’s toys away, so you assumed they considered them safe. But the opinion that mattered to you was Nyx’s. So you found yourself staring at little Nyx expectantly, hoping he would like your gift.

You weren't lying when you said they were popular in the bay. Of your adult dragons, who constantly flew over the bay and its cities, all of them had been immortalized as wooden toys in countless numbers by this point, for children to play with and enjoy. It was rare to see a child on the street who wasn't walking with a wooden dragon in hand or one within quick reach, either in the hand of one of their companions or hidden in a pocket or bag.

Sure, there were more expensive gold or silver versions sold to high-born children, but those were the ones you saw on the streets all the time, and they were the ones you enjoyed the most. You thought wood was the most worthy material to immortalize your dragons in; there was something about it that felt more alive than any metal. You had your own collection, as apprentice carpenters who learned to make them would give you the ones that failed to meet their standards so you could see if a dragon that looked like that would ever be born.

You had bought those three from an old carpenter who refused to die and continued to work on his craft with passion. He had been recommended to you on the streets, and he had ordered all three personally. The man hadn't made toys in years, according to his words, but he had made them for free despite your complaints and had exceeded the expectations you had for his work.

Nyx set her gaze on the dragon in Feyre's hand, looking at it for a second before glancing at the one Rhysand held. She reached out her hand towards the mini Balerion with eagerness, almost breaking out of her mother's arms to reach it.

“Looks like there’s already a favorite,” Rhysand laughed, letting Nyx reach for the toy in his hand. When she did, Nyx held the dragon in both hands, looking at it as she babbled excitedly. She shifted in place to face you and held out her hand with the dragon, babbling something in a questioning tone.

“Balerion,” you said, and it was immediately met with a determined babble.

“Bababa,” the boy said, looking closely at the toy, then immediately glancing at the dragon that Feyre still held in her other hand. He let go of Balerion without thinking and grabbed the other dragon. Rhysand managed to catch the toy before it fell. Again, he offered the toy to you with a mumbled question, grabbing it by the neck roughly, which you found funny. The long neck of Caraxes’ lizard was very different from the rest of your dragons; you called it Wyrm because of that.

“Caraxes,” you said, playing with your fingers and waiting patiently.

“Carrare,” Nyx repeated, stretching out the "r" so that it spit a little onto Feyre’s sweater. Rhysand offered him the third toy before he could ask for anything, pulling mini Caraxes from her hand to break his fall. The process repeated itself: Nyx offered the dragon to you, and you stammered in question.

“Dreamfyre,” and this time Nyx couldn’t even stammer a syllable; her attempt at pronunciation only got her tongue tied, ending with her tongue sticking out. “Two out of three is very good,” you assured him when he looked at you for approval, smiling sweetly at him. He mimicked the smile before turning around and searching for the missing toys in his hands.

Nyx babbled over to her mother, showing her the toys, and Feyre's attention shifted to the boy, her eyes shining as she looked at the toys and accepted the explanation of their names. It was lovely to see her interact with her son like this, but you soon realized that it left you and Rhysand in an awkward silence, or at least an awkward one for you.

When you glanced at him, checking to see if he was distracted by the sight of his wife as he had been a while ago, you found him staring at you with an expression you couldn't understand. You felt the heat of embarrassment build up in your neck.

“I’m glad he likes them,” you managed to say, looking at him with the softest smile possible. “Even if he stops playing with them, he can use them for decoration; I use them for that.”

“Do you have any of these?” Rhysand asked, his tone amused. Embarrassment crept up your neck and onto your face.

“Yes, I get them as gifts from time to time, and I put them on my mantelpiece,” you answered quickly, turning your full attention back to Feyre.

“I hear he has a taste for carved wood,” Rhysand subtly noted, directing the question at you but feigning indifference to your reaction.

You pressed your lips together in a tight smile and nodded softly, unable to stop yourself from telling him to fuck off if you spoke. The table—that was what he was referring to when he mentioned your taste for carved wood. When he had ordered the piece of furniture, you hadn’t thought that its acquisition would mean much, but once it was installed in the War Room of your mansion on the bay, word had spread that the new queen of Slaver’s Bay had acquired a table carved from wood and inlaid with stone, outlining in detail the shape of the great continent, with the lands and kingdoms of mortals carved into it, and the borders detailed. A huge wooden map, the map of a conqueror.

Everyone knew what that table was for; the cards declaring you queen had been an action long overdue on the continent, and that beautiful piece of art carved in wood was the reason.

“They are beautiful,” Feyre spoke to you, easing the tension out of your shoulders with just those words. “Thank you.”

You nodded with a softer smile this time.

The party officially started when they walked in with the birthday boy. Little Nyx happily passed from arm to arm for the first few minutes after his arrival, receiving hugs and kisses from practically everyone. You became a silent presence during this process, accompanied by a drink and the occasional snack that would allow you to eat because you were hungry, but you wouldn't be able to devour the food as your body demanded because there were so many people.

When people began to clear out around you, you felt like a child, sensing the gaze on your back—how you knew when one of the younger dragons thought to try and attack to see what would happen, or when you were within sight of the wolves in the woods in your youth. The eyes followed you as you walked to the drinks table and helped yourself again to the fruit juice you had been drinking.

The eyes fixed on your back followed you to the open doors in the courtyard, where you leaned on the railing that limited the unevenness of the floor, entering the building and the garden that you suspected was Elain's area. You felt her gaze as if she were looking at a bright red target on your back as she approached you with a calm step, as if she weren't stalking you or didn't care to be obvious in her pursuit.

When Amren stood beside you, the most primal part of you—the one that was more beast than person and as connected to Balerion as if they were one—wanted to growl in threat, and you were sure Balerion was doing it in the mountains, leaving room for you as the threatening sound bounced off his chest and tongue.

“Enjoying the food?” she asked with little kindness or dissimulation of her skepticism towards your presence. “I imagine you have a particular appetite since you brought your beasts to life.”

We are not talking about food. Of course not.

“My appetite is particular, but I only eat what I need,” you assured her absentmindedly.

“And if you are not satisfied, kovesh*? Where will you look to satisfy your appetite?” The question was cruel, accusatory towards you. And you smiled calmly at her because you knew what she was implying with the question.

Once you conquer mortal lands, how do you know you would not want more and look to us, conqueror?

Amren was not out of place. That was why her words did not affect you as much as they should have; you had expected these questions at one time or another. Dragons, as beloved as they were to you, were in the eyes of many like a strong brute, one that few defenses could stop or harm. You had conquered the bay in less than a year with them; you had already proven that you were capable of carrying out the actions necessary to take lands with only dragon fire as a weapon. And when you commissioned the carved table, you made it clear that the conquest of the bay and the liberation of the slaves had not been enough for you. It has not sated your appetite. You had already made the first move to conquer the rest of the continent owned by mortals. You offered peace before unleashing war again, but the statement was firm: you would not back down if the queen did not bend the knee. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, only your appetite for conquest and power moved you to seek to conquer those lands. You knew the truth; you knew what you had seen in the lava and what you wanted to avoid, but you didn't need anyone else to do it.

You sat up straighter and took a step closer to her, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Amren stood up straighter, as if ready to fight, but you just stared at the way her hair fell perfectly, framing her sharp jaw and slanted eyes; it was wonderful. Her eyes looked up at you, irritated by your boldness, no doubt. You weren’t sure if you were more irritated because, at this close distance, the height difference between you and her was apparent, even without her heels, or because you reached up and moved a strand of hair from her cheek delicately, leaning carelessly on one elbow on the railing beside you, daring not to fear the infamous second of the Night Court.

“On that side of the sea, dear and stunning Amren, it is not my appetite that is a problem.” You watched her as she blurted out the statement, her tone sweet, finding it adorable how beings like her could not see past their necks and did not understand the truth of life.

It was not you or your dragons. It was their kind, sworn to the gods with the lives of mortals even when the wall had been up for years and were now free to do as they pleased. It was them, not you, who planned to invade and sent their beasts to test the waters on the other side of the unprotected border the wall had left behind.

A name called out to you from inside the house. You turned your head to find Elain walking hurriedly toward you, followed by a man with stubby skin, hair that was more white than blonde, and a face that looked less than happy. Elain quickly hugged your elbow when she reached you, repeating your name with somewhat forced excitement.

“This is Varian,” she pointed to the grumpy male who came to Amren’s side and hugged her around the waist, looking you up and down skeptically. “You’ve been introduced to him; he’s Amren’s boyfriend.”

Elain stared at you, wanting to say something, but you weren’t sure what it was. You looked at Varian and Amren, searching for a clue as to what it was, but Amren had leaned against Varian, looking at you as you supposed she was looking at the people, and Varian was still frowning. You knew who he was and his relationship with her, but you didn’t think it was a state secret, so it wasn’t that big of a surprise or something that serious.

“Nice to meet you,” you said, not sure what else to say, moving your glass of juice in his direction. You're still confused as Elain pulled you into the house.

“Have you seen Feyre’s paintings? Let me show them!” the girl said hurriedly as you let her lead you.

Elain led you down the hallway of the house, away from the central area. It was long and ended in double glass doors that led to the patio, making it perfectly lit for the paintings hanging on both sides. There were no doors or hallways that branched off from this hallway, only walls displaying Feyre's paintings.

At the beginning was the most recent one. A painting of Rhysand, Fey, and little Nyx when he must have been a newborn was the first one that caught your attention. It was proof of how the talent that had painted wooden drawers, tables, and small wooden figures had evolved wonderfully until it became that divinely illuminated image, with colors brightened by the rays of sunlight that flooded the hallway.

“Wow.”

“I know, right? It gets better every day. Soon we’ll be trying to walk inside its paintings in search of experiencing their beauty,” Elain spoke softly, as if she had lost her breath. You watched her smile at the painting with pride before she pulled you toward the next one.

There was one of the three sisters, along with Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel, and one of Nyx alone. You were surprised by the one of Mr. Archeron, but you didn’t wince. There were also remnants of all of them individually, and one that depicted them as a whole. A family. At the end of the hallway was a painting leaning against the wall, as if waiting to meet its fate; the nail it should have hung on highlighted the empty spot where it had been or should be hanging.

“Oh, I should get back—”

“Elain, do you mind changing Nyx’s diaper for me?” Feyre’s voice rang out in the hallway. You looked at Elain, confused, not understanding why she wanted to go back, but she just gave you a sad smile before meeting up with Feyre in the hallway and taking the child from her arms.

Nyx didn’t need a diaper change; you could smell it quickly—it was an excuse for Elain to leave. Looking back at you from the hallway, at the place where the painting leaned silently against the wall, that was when Elain realized she wanted to get you out of there.

Feyre slowly approached you as you walked carefully down the hall, moving toward the painting leaning against the wall as if it were an explosive of some sort. Feyre didn't stop you, which you assumed was a sign that she didn’t want to keep it from you but rather wanted to be there when you saw it.

As you stood in front of the painting, you noticed that a corner of the cloth covering it was falling away, revealing the right edge of the canvas. Your breath caught. You recognized the snowy forest you and Feyre had walked through so many times, and the dark, curly hair, just like your mother's, peeking out from beneath the cloth. Feyre reached under your arm and hugged you, holding your hand and interlacing your fingers.

“I made it a few months ago, before you sent the letters,” which was before she knew you were alive. Feyre had painted it thinking you were dead. “When I found out, I repainted it. I wanted to give it to her, but when we sent Mor to the bay with the letter, I thought it would be too much for you. I don’t know the exact circumstances, so I didn’t know how you would take it on top of everything.”

Feyre spoke to you in a whisper, so only you could hear her, but you weren’t able to look at her or answer her, or even return her handshake. You felt her gaze on your profile, full of concern, as if it pulsed out of her to you.

“I hope I didn’t overstep,” she admitted, just like you had a few days ago regarding the gift for Nyx.

But you weren't able to reassure her the same way she had done with you, because she had crossed a line—one you had blocked years ago when you decided to fight for your freedom in the volcanoes, ignoring the emptiness that weighed down and bled in your heart.

You ripped the canvas off the top of the painting's frame with one pull, like tearing off a band-aid while holding your breath, and you couldn't breathe again when you looked at the painting in front of you.

The scene depicted a winter afternoon, with the forest covered in white. Rue, dressed in her clothes to accompany you on hunts when you deemed it safe for her, was half-turned, facing forward, as if watching you as she walked in front of you in the snow. Her hair, a massive, curly mass just like your mother’s, was tied into a makeshift braid. You had never been able to style it the way your mother knew how, so it was loose and low, with many strands flying in the wind around her face as she stood halfway into the forest, looking at you as if you had called out to her not to go ahead on the walk.

You stood there, frozen, feeling the pain in your throat as the lump that had formed there became unbearable, and the burning in your eyes as you refused to cry, despite your body begging for it. You stared at the painting for a long moment while Feyre looked at you, still feeling her concern against your cheek.

Finally, you set your jaw and stared at the floor, blinking rapidly. Feyre rested her hand on your cheek, her thumb caressing your hand, and you were able to squeeze back, turning your knuckles white, but she didn’t complain.

“She looks like she’s saying goodbye,” she finally said, looking back at the painting, and Feyre looked at it too, admiring for the first time the depth of her own act. “Since she left, I haven’t been able to remember her any other way. But I like the ability to remember her this way.”

You didn’t explain to her that the way you remembered her was covered in blood, terrified, and with the feeling of helplessness tearing through your chest. There was no reason to put that on her, but you wanted her to know that the line she had crossed was significant. You might now think that she had left you like that—smiling, with her hair free in the wind, in the middle of the snow that she loved to play in so much and that she missed during her years on the pirate islands. You could imagine that those were her last moments, going into the forest you had accustomed her to so much, where she felt safe, never to return again, becoming part of the nature and the snow of the place.

“Thank you,” you managed to say over the tightness in your throat.

Feyre smiled softly. You felt her warmth as she rested her head on your shoulder, and you stayed like that for a while before going back to the celebration.

You left the painting leaning against the wall next to the bathroom door in your room so that you could see it from your place, sitting in the middle of the bed. You couldn't sleep and had resigned yourself to waking up and asking for some tea.

You didn't notice Mayhem in the room until she was sitting next to you on the bed, the hot cup of tea in her hands. It was only then that you realized she had even come in. You silently thanked her and took the cup from her hands, but she didn't move. She just sat there, and you looked at the cup, your hands, and the painting, constantly shifting your focus among them, but never looking back at her.

A silent understanding formed between the two of you, and Mayhem stayed with you as you drank all your tea. It worked; whether it was the tea or her reassuring presence, when you finished your cup, your eyes closed, and you fell asleep as soon as you laid your head on the pillow.

You dreamed of Rue. You always dreamed of her being scared in her final moments, but that night, for the first time since you lost her, you dreamed of her happiness. You saw her answering you in the forest, playing with the snow. You woke up with the certainty that she had stayed there, happily making snowmen, and also knowing that Feyre knew what she would do here, happy for the rest of the eternity that the Mother had granted her for her sacrifices.

It was time for you to go to your war; the illusions ended here.

*kovesh: It means conqueror in Hebrew, which is the language I have decided to use as a representation of the first language of mortals, without any particular reason other than I do not have the mind to invent a language for this story. All words in this language will be translated by me as best as possible, but if anyone knows the language that I do and sees any flaws in my translations in the future feel free to point it out in the comments.

Next Part: ...

TAG LIST: @pinksmellslikelove @saltedcoffeescotch @raisam @asweetblueberry2 @kabekusa @throneofsapphics @makayla2036789 @jojodojo02 @kooterz @rcarbo1

#acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #feyre archeron x reader #rhysand x reader #feysand x reader #poly!feysand x reader #feyre archeron #rhysand #acotar fic #feysand #friends to lovers #strangers to lovers #second chance love #fated mates #mates #dragons

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brucebocchi · 7 months ago

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Spring 2024 anime, Pt. 2: Mixed bags and the gems

hey! i also post this on my ko-fi! this is very much a labor of love, so if you liked what i wrote consider throwing a few bucks my way! also you can find part 1 right here! thanks!

Yes, hello, I'm still here. Between work and AI: The Somnium Files -nirvanA Initiative-, I was struggling to find the time to get this out, but here we are! Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go actually watch some anime again.

As always, the OP for each show is linked in the title. Watch them! There were some damn good ones this season.

Let's-a go:

Mixed Bags

Astro Note

I’m going to kick off this section by first stating that on the whole, I’m much higher on the anime in this section this season than I was last time: Nothing that I watched this season disappointed me nearly as much as Metallic Rouge or The Witch and the Beast, nor bored me to tears like The Unwanted Undead Adventurer. This truly is a collection of mixed bags; anime that I found enjoyable or interesting but still left me wanting in one way or another. “Good But Could Have Been Great” is too unwieldy anyway.

Astro Note was eye-catching from the jump: This is very clearly an homage to Rumiko Takahashi’s beloved romcom Maison Ikkoku, with character designs by Carole & Tuesday’s Eisaku Kubonouchi. The colors are soft and bright, everyone looks unique and has a wide variety of hilarious facial expressions, and the OP is a fun time right out of the gate. You come for the lovely visuals and Takahashi homage, and you stay for, uh, not much else.

Takumi, a down-on-his-luck young chef, answers a job posting at a boarding house that promises its residents breakfast every day. It turns out that Mira, the odd but beautiful new landlady, is a dogshit cook and tried to attract a new one with a plagiarized job posting. Takumi doesn’t really care because she’s, like, really pretty, so he takes the job and moves in. He’s soon beset by a cast of wacky characters that includes an enigmatic unemployed salaryman and his precocious son, an indie idol who looks like a hard-drinking Futaba Sakura in her downtime, a nosy neighbor, and a rich, handsome romantic rival. We’re already approaching Maison Ikkoku territory.

Shortly after moving in, Takumi believes he overhears Mira saying that she’s a widow, which would firmly plant Astro Note’s flag right in Ikkoku’s turf, but it turns out that Mira is in fact an alien from the planet Wid, meaning she is of the Wido race (this is as good of a localization as you can ask for; in the original Japanese he heard “miboujin,” not knowing that she’s from the planet Mibou). So we’ve got some Urusei Yasura sprinkled in for good measure. Her adorable poodle, voiced by Junichi Suwabe (Sukuna himself!) is from the same planet and helping her find a MacGuffin, hidden by the previous owner, that would help her take over as queen. There’s also some blossoming romance!

The alien stuff made for an interesting wrinkle, and it went a long way toward characterizing Mira as an endearingly odd but curious woman, but it often played out in wacky hijinks caused by alien spies, which felt like a designated make-the-plot-happen button more often than not. It paid off splendidly in the last couple of episodes, and I loved how all of the flashbacks of Mira’s mother looked like grainy Showa-era space operas, but getting there took a lot of “oh no, chase that Thing!” sequences. I found myself tuning out on those until they finally became plot relevant.

The central romance was fine, if a little underbaked, but what kept me watching Astro Note was the smaller moments with the ensemble characters. There were moments with both Wakabayashi the salaryman and his son Ren that slapped the apathy right off my face, and a side plot with Takumi and a person from his past was incredibly sweet. I did also love the massive turn the plot took in the last couple episodes, to the point where I found myself almost wishing that the show up to that point was different.

And that’s Astro Note in a nutshell: A lot of good pieces mixed with some filler, weird pacing, and an overall uneven experience in a nice-looking package. A fun little distraction but nothing entirely memorable. If I can give this show one major positive, it’s that watching it finally convinced me to read Maison Ikkoku, and for that I will forever be grateful. Read Maison Ikkoku.

Go! Go! Loser Ranger

I keep running notes for everything I’m watching as the season rolls on, and sometimes I’ll indulge in other reviewers’ early takes and jot down some insights that might spark from hearing outside perspectives. During Gigguk’s opening remarks on Go! Go! Loser Ranger in his early Spring season roundup, I made a note that the easiest way to summarize this show for a western audience is “basically The Boys but with the Power Rangers instead of The Seven.” And then he said pretty much the exact same thing five seconds later. I just want the record to show that.

Indeed, this is a sentai series with some spice. 13 years ago, the invading forces of evil were soundly defeated by the Dragon Keepers, a real-life sentai squad. In the present day, the Dragon Keepers now sit atop a massive organization protecting earth, and also dominating the entertainment industry: Every week, they hold an exhibition match against the remaining rank-and-file footsoldiers, skull-faced shapeshifters known as Dusters. In order to keep their lives, the Dusters were forced to give up their freedom and serve as the farcical Putty Patrol for what is ultimately a pro wrestling show. Sick of being a jobber and effectively a slave, one of the Dusters, known simply as Fighter D, decides the best way to destroy the Dragon Keepers and free his brethren is to do so from within: He’ll morph into a human shape, join their Rangers program as a cadet, and personally slay each of the five Keepers.

Fighter D is quickly found out, though. One of the recruiters, the lovely but mercurial Yumeko, isn’t nearly as dumb as he thought, but she fortunately has the same aim and quickly puts him to work trying to steal the Keepers’ insanely powerful weapons, the Divine Artifacts. He’s also found by the Dragon Keepers and manages to escape, though badly wounded. He’s found in a cave by Yumeko’s hanger-on, the upstart Ranger cadet Hibiki, whose family was badly fragmented by an unknown monster. While he still believes in the Keepers and shares their ostensible goal of protecting humanity, he believes that there needs to be major changes and agrees to let D impersonate him to infiltrate the Rangers. He’s soon embroiled in a prolonged examination trial against higher-ranked Rangers that soon turns into a fight to the death, made only more deadly by the inclusion of a female Duster and the same monster that killed Hibiki’s parents and paralyzed his sister.

Yes, that’s a lot, and everything up until that last sentence was just in the first four episodes. I’ve said repeatedly that I’m willing to be patient with introductory seasons for action-oriented shonen series, because those do usually take a minute to start cooking, but the first season of Loser Ranger is bizarrely paced. The first four episodes were an intriguing introduction, but they might have served better as a movie to kick off the season, because the overwhelming majority of the remaining eight episodes were pretty much just a bunch of people fighting in a fucking parking garage. I was under the impression that the first season was going to be 24 or so episodes, for some reason, so I was willing to be patient with it.

Maybe I should've been patient enough to wait until the second season, because I found myself getting whiplash between fascination and utter boredom. I still don’t know if I even like this show. There are so many moving parts, and many of them are fascinating, but to get bombarded with them so early and so often, only to then keep most of them in the background in favor of way too many new characters fighting in, again, a goddamned parking garage, frustrates me in increasing measure the more I write about it. I really wanted to like this show more than I did.

The production values are seemingly all over the place too. The OP is another Tatsuya Kitani banger, the voice cast is deep and talented (especially for the English dub, holy hell), the puppet outros are a hoot, and the animation is mostly fine. I’m rarely one to complain about CGI in anime (the ED for this show is entirely 3DCG and it fucks), but a lot of it in Loser Ranger, especially as an obvious means of cheaping out on having to hand-draw and -animate the Dragon Keepers’ slightly-elaborate costumes, is baffling. You could make a generous case for it representing them as larger-than-life personalities, but in execution it’s just kind of uncanny. The show looks and sounds fine overall, but little things like that just take me out of it.

I’m going to withhold judgment until the second season, but for now I can’t say I’m too impressed by the debut. Maybe just watch the first four episodes and put a pin in it until season 2 drops.

Jellyfish Can’t Swim in the Night

I’m beginning to worry that Metallic Rouge’s catastrophic narrative failure may have permanently made me nervous about any original anime to follow. It’s an unfair comparison to make, especially considering it aired at the same time as the bombastically audacious Bang Brave Bang Bravern, which I consider one of the best of the year so far and even one of the better anime to air so far this decade. At the same time, though, the millisecond I start to suspect that an original anime is losing its footing, as soon as the one synapse fires that tells me that this show may not be able to stick the landing, I start to get cynical. The good news is that Jellyfish Can’t Swim in the Night isn’t even in the same time zone as Rouge’s disappointment. The bad news is that it still never fully lived up to what it could have been.

Right from the jump, this felt like Doga Kobo flexing in between seasons of Oshi no Ko with yet another gorgeous showbiz anime. The debut episode is one of the best I’ve seen in some time; an immaculately animated and brilliantly storyboarded mission statement showcasing the self-doubting illustrator Mahiru and the disgraced ex-idol Kano meeting and finding new inspiration in one another’s work (if you’ve been reading Beat & Motion, this may sound familiar, except they’re both high school girls). It was a masterclass in depicting powerful self-expression and the spark of a truly fateful encounter. What followed was also pretty good, but...

Mahiru and Kano band together (pun intended) to form the multimedia collective JELEE, also enlisting social-outcast musical prodigy (and Kano stan) Mei, and NEET VTuber Kiui along the way. We see a lot of the nitty-gritty of trying to get a new act off the ground, as well as the reality that any new artist or creator nowadays is, ultimately, at the mercy of the internet. It was a treat to watch these four all come together, as was seeing the emotional bonds they forge with one another while also navigating their own personal issues, but it frequently came at the expense of an actual plot. That sort of thing is fine, I do love me some good slice-of-life, but I feel like the show planned on something a bit grander. While we’re focused on so many of these really lovely moments of character growth and interpersonal drama, everything about JELEE’s ascent, y’know, the main plot, just kind of happens, and before you know it everything turns out okay and the season’s over. It really felt like the writers had a big plan but ended up just laying down the tracks while the train was already in motion.

As mentioned, I’m not nearly as down on the anime in the “Mixed Bags” section this season as I was three months ago, but just thinking about how the plot sagged around the middle and rushed towards its ending leaves me frustrated. Unlike JELEE itself, Jellyfish Can’t Swim in the Night feels like less than the sum of its parts. This show feels like an unfinished jigsaw puzzle; what you can make out of the image is gorgeous, yet not only was it never completed, but someone clearly put a few of the pieces together wrong as well. There are plenty of themes in the story and character writing that could have blossomed into something amazing, like impostor syndrome, finding community and identity through fandom, young sapphic love, gender identity, and so many more, and it may have been possible to resolve at least a couple of these in 12 episodes, but Jellyfish seemed either incapable of or uninterested in actually getting there beyond a few vague overtures.

I know I sound harsh here and I didn’t mean for this review to be mostly complaints; I did very much like this show, but I wanted so badly to love it. And it probably isn’t entirely fair of me to grade this show based on what it could have been instead of what it is, but so much was plainly left on the table that I’m not really left with another choice. I still recommend it much more strongly than anything else I've put in the Mixed Bags section so far this year, but be forewarned that you may be let down. This is a pretty goddamn good anime that could’ve been pretty goddamn incredible, but it just couldn’t get there.

Mysterious Disappearances

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I know what I’m about. If a new series rotates around a protagonist who looks like that, I’ll at least give it an episode or two.

Sumireko is a former child-prodigy novelist, now in her late 20s working at a bookstore with the sharp-tongued Ren, as she continues to fail at getting published again. On the eve of her 28th birthday, Sumireko accidentally takes home a book that was droplifted in the store, and shortly after reading it aloud she finds herself reverted into the body of a child. Suddenly struck by inspiration once again, she disappears from work for the next week, furiously typing away at her next novel. Ren manages to find her and tells her that she’s under a curse: The book is an otherworldly object known as a Curiosity, and its power can be deadly to those who use it. Though Sumireko is desperate to hang on to her newly-regained youth, Ren manages to smooth-talk her into changing back and handing over the book. Now aware of an extradimensional threat to daily life, Sumireko teams up with Ren and his little sister Oto to track down and neutralize more Curiosities before they cause widespread havoc.

This series is alright, if questionable in a lot of areas. I recognize that I’m not entirely the target audience; while I love a good supernatural mystery, each of these Curiosities is rooted in East Asian mythology and contemporary urban legends, very few of which I was familiar with going in. To those on that side of the world (or to Westerners with that specific special interest), I’m sure it hits different, but I got lost on a couple of occasions. Mysterious Disappearances also runs into the same pacing issues that I found with The Witch and the Beast last season, where the plot structure is effectively episodic, but each mystery can last a few episodes at a time, so if you’re not particularly invested in the subject at hand, you’re SOL for another week or two.

This show also just plain doesn’t look very good. The animation is nothing impressive and there’s something off-putting about the overall look that I can’t quite put my finger on. It looks retro in ways that probably weren’t intentional, like a 20-year-old digipaint anime that was upscaled from 480p. The audio element is great, at least; the music, sound design, and cast are all fantastic (between her turn as Sumireko in this one and her supporting roles in Reincarnated as the 7th Prince and Kaiju No. 8, Fairouz Ai has put in great work this season), and that’s a good thing because this one isn’t a looker.

If you couldn’t already tell from how the main character looks, Mysterious Disappearances is undoubtedly horny as hell, but often distractingly so. I do have to praise Sumireko’s design to an extent; for a large-chested anime lady, she at least hews closer to how a tall woman with somewhat appropriately large breasts would actually be built and how her clothes would actually fit. She looks like a more realistically-proportioned Nami. There’s no shortage of anime characters with gigantic boobs, but few that make me actually go “oh, this woman definitely has back problems.” There are a lot of slow-tilting shots up female characters’ legs towards their chests to the point where I tuned the dialogue out because I couldn’t believe they just kept on doing it. I skimmed through the manga, and though there is far more semi-gratuitous nudity as compared to the anime, I still somehow found the latter much more distracting with its attempts at fanservice. I also don’t really care for how the “camera” looks at Oto and her middle school classmates either; I found myself just getting nervous whenever a scene focused on them.

For its problems, there’s at least a series of solid emotional cores here. Similar to Sumireko’s desire to regain her youthful creativity, the wielders-slash-victims of these Curiosities are largely vulnerable individuals who are trying to make the best of their lives in spite of past traumas like bullying, neglect, and disability. All serious issues, no doubt, and the story tries to handle them as well as possible, but once you see through the pattern of “awful thing is happening, we get to know the character, then we learn their tragic backstory and there’s a tearful resolution while we move closer to advancing the overall plot,” it can feel a little cloying in the long run. Not that those resolutions can’t be potent; I really liked the endings of the stories of the missing hairdresser and the rogue VTuber, but as a plot formula it can ring hollow.

Mysterious Disappearances is a fine if unspectacular series of supernatural mysteries with an okay overarching plot, and your mileage may vary depending on your existing knowledge of East Asian occult and superstition. It’s also not that fun to actually look at, even if you happen to be into tall redheads with huge racks. Uh, not that I would know.

The Gems

Girls Band Cry

When Bocchi the Rock! made its unexpectedly earth-shattering landfall a couple years ago, it was inundated with a deluge of comparisons to the previous landmark girls-in-a-band anime, K-On!. It felt a bit trite at the time, and feels even more so in retrospect; each show is its own thing and they both stand on their own merits. And now here’s my dumb ass, reviewing a new girls-in-a-band anime, desperately trying not to compare it to Bocchi.

It’s really not a fair comparison either way; the focus being on an all-girls rock band is really the only thing they have in common. Rather than Hitori “Bocchi” Gotoh, a perpetually-anxious recluse looking to join a band so she won’t have to get a real job after high school, we have Nina Iseri, who is… difficult. Nina has just moved to Tokyo after running away from home, but her train arrived too late for her to get her apartment key, and to make matters worse, her phone’s dead. While charging at a local coffee shop, she finds out that Momoka, the now-former frontwoman of her favorite band, is playing on a nearby street. After some ups and downs, they decide to form a band together, and butt heads more than a couple times.

Along the way, they recruit more members, each with their own issues: Subaru, the drummer, is struggling with the expectations placed on her by her grandmother to become an actress, Tomo, the keyboardist, is exacting and a little too opinionated to keep a steady role in a band, and Rupa, the bassist, is a soft-spoken foreigner who remains a cheerful enigma despite losing her parents. And Nina and Momoka are both flat-out stubborn in ways that do not mesh well with one another. There are a lot of yelling matches and many angry tears shed as the band Togenashi Togeari comes together: yes, the “Cry” in the title isn’t just for style points.

I will say that it’s refreshing that Girls Band Cry does not sugarcoat what an absolute pain in the ass Nina can be when she’s dug in: She ran away from home because she’s utterly convinced of her own righteousness, and it’s your damn problem if you think otherwise. She is avoidant and oppositional-defiant, and everyone else just has to deal with it. She may not pick her hills well, but by God will she die on them. Props for having a protagonist this openly messy and unpleasant. Plenty of musicians, or really anyone working in a group for that matter, can be abrasive and stubborn, and TogeToge’s growing pains are a necessary element of their development as a band.

I know the bar isn’t very high for 3D computer-generated anime when it doesn’t come from Studio Orange, but this is easily one of the best-looking 3DCG anime I’ve ever seen. Between this and Trigun Stampede, I’m blown away at how expressive characters can be in CG, and how they react to what’s around them in real-time more consistently than you’d see in most 2D animation. Speaking of which, Girls Band Cry isn’t entirely in 3D; much of the OP as well as several flashbacks and background characters are hand-drawn, and they look so goddamn good that I’m almost left wondering what could’ve been. Not that I’m disappointed in the slightest; when the 3D animation hits, it REALLY hits in gorgeous synaesthetic waves that so perfectly depict an intersection of sound, light, and emotion. Hell, even the transition cards are huge eye catchers. Not everything looks brilliant all the time; the pets in particular are uncannily low-res and almost look like they got plucked out of KamiKatsu.

Of course, this is a band show, so the audio element has to be on point as well, and I’d say Girls Band Cry is up to snuff. The anime is part of a larger multimedia project, and the entire main cast consists of audition winners performing under mononyms, and they knock it out of the damn park; they’re pretty goddamn great for supposed newcomers. The music is a blast as well, not just in performance scenes but in the background as well. Togenashi Togeari already existed in the zeitgeist as a virtual band before this show went to air, so they already had a small discography out there before the show went to air and I’m looking forward to digging into it.

Infamously, this show isn’t particularly easy to watch. Not in the thematic sense, but literally: You cannot legally watch it in English anywhere in the West. Despite its popularity, Girls Band Cry was never picked up by any Anglosphere-based streaming platforms, for whatever reason, and the only official English subtitles out there are from an Indonesian streamer. So, much like the days of VHS trading and the early internet, we’re forced to rely on community translations. Far be it from me to encourage piracy (lol), but if you can find a good fansub, Girls Band Cry is very much worth your while. Pinkies up, motherfuckers.

Kaiju No. 8

I don’t watch Demon Slayer or My Hero Academia, so this was my designated Shonen Jump action show of the season, and it came with a ton of buzz: The way I see it, if I can pick up a volume of the manga at Target, the inevitable anime adaptation is gonna be a big deal. I’ve not read Kaiju No. 8 yet, but I’d say the anime lives up to a good amount of the hype.

Japan has had to handle a constant threat of kaiju for many decades now, and as a child the way-too-aptly-named Kafka Hibino made a promise to his best friend Mina that they would both grow up to lead the Japan Anti-Kaiju Defense Force in charge of eliminating the threat. A couple decades later, she’s a national hero as a captain in the Force, while Kafka is in the private sector at age 32, cleaning up the enormous corpses and viscera Mina and her division leave behind. He hasn’t given up on his dreams, by any stretch; Kafka has failed every single enlistment application he’s submitted since he came of age, but he just keeps on trying.

Kafka and his work kohai, the upstart JAKDF hopeful Reno, manage to survive a kaiju attack at the end of a shift with minor injuries, but when they’re in the hospital, a potato-sized flying kaiju shoves itself down Kafka’s throat, causing him to transform into a kaiju. Fortunately, he’s able to change back to his human form just in time to pass the first round of Defense Force exams, with Reno warning him not to let anyone in on his secret during practical exams.

Kafka is pathetically weak in his human form and is repeatedly shown up by the daughter of the Defense Force’s director general, the young hotshot Kikoru (Fairouz Ai once again), but he manages to save her life when a training exercise goes haywire and forces him to transform and share his secret with her. Reno and Kikoru get in, no problem, while Kafka manages to squeak in as a cadet. Of course, without exposing his little-big kaiju secret, Kafka can’t do much to help in terms of actual combat, but he does frequently act as an unofficial tactician in directing his squadmates on the battlefield and, in a very smart writing decision, applying his professional knowledge of kaiju anatomy to help them identify and target weaknesses.

And from there we get a whole lot of early military training and bonding, and not just with Kafka, Reno, Kikoru, and their division’s vice-commander, the giggly Hoshina: There’s also, uh, Man-Bun! And Muscles! And Shark Teeth! And the Token Women! You know, those guys. Yeah, this is ostensibly an ensemble cast, as any good battle shonen should be, but I really didn’t get much from anyone outside the main few characters other than identifying features. I’m sure we’ll get more out of them in subsequent seasons but I have little to work off of right now.

The main three are great, though: Kafka definitely has shonen protag brain even at his age, but he’s still necessary representation for schlubby guys in their 30s who still have hopes and dreams (we exist and our stories matter), and for as serious and focused as Reno likes to think he is, he makes a great tsukkomi whenever Kafka starts acting up. Kikoru is already an icon as well; she’s basically Asuka Langley Sohryu for the zoomer generation. I feel a little weird about the fact that she’s literally half Kafka’s age and still acts kinda tsundere around him, but this is a shonen at the end of the day.

I have some small nagging issues with the story here and there, but nothing that outright ruins the show for me. Like plenty of others, I’m far more fascinated with the ins and outs of how Japanese society adapted to living with kaiju threats outside of just military preparation and response; Kafka’s initial job in kaiju cleanup was actually really neat and I’d have loved it just as much (and possibly more) if the series had just focused on that. I want some damn world building! I also am not crazy about the focus on the Defense Force’s powerscaling in the form of “Unleashed Combat Power,” but I also just plain don’t care about powerscaling to begin with. Wasn’t the entire point of power levels in Dragon Ball Z that it’s pointless to define someone’s fighting spirit by a number? Maybe they drop it later.

This show looks pretty darn good! Production IG clearly put its A-team on this one; the character animation is cartoonishly bouncy and expressive in ways we rarely see outside of Trigger productions, and the big-ass kaiju are all mercifully in outstanding 2D (though I wouldn’t complain about CG; the OP is entirely in 3D and looks exceptional). The silliness of the animation really came through in one of the funniest scenes in any anime I watched this season. Some of the textures can look a little distractingly muddy at times, but hey, these are big ugly monsters we’re looking at. Make those bastards ugly.

On a certain level, I can appreciate the effort put into this show to try to make it a crossover success; the manga is popular and kaiju films remain one of Japan’s greatest cultural exports. Streaming new episodes on the fetid corpse of Twitter was certainly a decision. I can also appreciate wanting to load up the soundtrack with popular Western artists; my problem is that they went with acts I actively avoid like YUNGBLUD (with writing by Imagine Dragons!) and OneRepublic. Suffice to say, I don’t care for the OP and ED on a musical level, but I know that I’m coming at this with a conscious bias. I’m sure they’re hits over in Japan, and for all I know there are music fans over there with the same tastes and disposition as me who think that some Japanese acts I learned about through anime like, say, Bump of Chicken or Queen Bee, are “coworker music” or whatever. I’ll live.

Kaiju No. 8, at the end of the day, is another battle shonen with guns and big monsters, but sometimes that’s all you need. I’ll be coming back for the next season.

Train to the End of the World

Spring 2024 was a banner season for girls anime. From the veteran director/writer duo that gave us cult hits like Squid Girl, Shirobako, and Prison School (and individual credits on a laundry list of classic and cult-favorite anime across the board) comes an original anime that’s not quite Cute Girls Doing Cute Things, nor Cute Girls Doing Amazing Things, but Cute Girls Being Fucking Weirdos in a Weird World.

7G technology has arrived in Japan and immediately wreaked unknowable chaos. Geography, flora, and fauna have all warped beyond recognition, and in the town of Agano, every human above a certain age has become a talking animal. Shizuru, a still-human high school girl, has been looking for her best friend Youka ever since they got in a fight two years ago and the latter ran off, just before the 7G cataclysm. She finds out that Youka has been spotted in Ikebukuro, and with the help of a babbling train conductor who managed to briefly turn lucid, learns to operate a two-car commuter train to get the hell out of dodge. Just before Shizuru leaves, train stocked with Agano’s famous goya melons, she’s joined by her classmates: The soft-spoken Nadeko, the temperamental bookworm Akira, and the rambunctious gyaru Reimi. Youka’s dog, Pochi, also joins for morale purposes. Along the way, they see just how warped Japan has become, with locals in the various towns ranging from mushroom people to zombies to Lilliputians to characters from their favorite anime, and more.

Try as I might, a summary does not do Train to the End of the World justice; this show is as offbeat as offbeat gets. It makes no bones about how flat-out weird it wants to get and actively revels in it. It’s not really interested in making the girls into a new generation of moe icons either; they are unabashed weirdos, in the ways that really only high school girls can be, and they handle the bizarre situations foisted upon them in similar fashion. They get into arguments about dumb shit, hurl insults at strangers, and occasionally just talk about poop. The writing in this series is fascinating, and it really shouldn’t come as a surprise coming from someone who also has script-writing credits for classics like Cowboy Bebop and Ranma ½ on her resume. The dialogue is punchy and comes at a breakneck pace in ways that you really only get in original anime like ODDTAXI.

Train to the End of the World is an incredible dichotomy unto itself because it clearly comes from a very literate way of thinking but has a blast being really goddamn stupid sometimes, in the best ways. It draws on a lot of inspirations of the epics of yore, gleefully cites the western literary canon, and ponders the future of the human race, and then has the girls negotiate their release from a Gulliver’s Travels situation by threatening to flood a park with urine. It is at once Homer and Homer Simpson. This show is funny in ways that are hard to articulate; comedy is so intrinsic to the show that it only has so many laugh-out-loud moments, but much more often I found myself shaking my head and remarking “this show is fucking hilarious.”

As a complete story, Train to the End of the World isn’t exactly generation-defining, but that’s perfectly fine. It’s an experience more than anything. It has really nice character moments and some heartwarming stuff in there, but I was mostly there for the weird shit. The ending was just okay, but I didn’t feel any poorer for having seen it; I’ll dive right into the cliche and say that it wasn’t about the destination but rather the journey. I had an absolute blast for the whole ride.

Now that I’ve made you read all of this, I’m going to go ahead and admit that I haven’t seen Squid Girl, Shirobako, or Prison School, but I kind of have to now, because I was bowled over by this show. This series revels in surrealism, so your mileage may vary, but it’s at the very least worth checking out. It may not have a lasting impact outside of some similar cult favoritism, but this was still my personal favorite new anime of the season.

Wind Breaker

A few weeks into the Spring season I felt like I was missing something. I gave Wind Breaker a shot and I realized about halfway into the first episode that what I was missing was just some dope-ass fisticuffs.

Haruka is a bit of a delinquent. His hair and eyes are heterochromic, and because he’s judged so harshly for his looks, he decided to lean into it and become the nogoodnik everyone thinks he is. He’s moved to a new town to join the local high school Furin, where he hears he’ll have to fight his way to the top, but as soon as he arrives in town he sees a young woman being harassed by a group of creeps. He takes them out on his own and in return receives a free lunch from the cafe she runs despite his protestations. After she teases him more than a little (his ass is NOT used to positive attention), the creeps return with more goons in tow, and Haruka is backed up by his new classmates. To his surprise, the locals shower the Furin boys with praise, and he then learns that Furin’s gang, Bofurin, exists solely to protect the town from outside threats. And Haruka thinks that is the coolest shit ever.

From there, Haruka gets to meet more of the Bofurin boys, and because of his standoffish personality, rebuffs their praises from the fight. Again, his ass is NOT used to positive attention. We get to learn the hierarchy of Bofurin, and it’s not exactly as Haruka expected: This is not a might-makes-right dogpile at all; it is a structured organization that protects its own and puts its community first. Soon enough, though, they happen upon one of their middle schoolers being hassled by a neighboring gang, and they organize a tournament on hostile ground to resolve their differences.

I am an absolute goddamn sucker for the “delinquent with a heart of gold” archetype, and Haruka is just a big ol’ tsundere from the opening minutes, so Wind Breaker hit like fucking catnip for me. For a show about gangs of delinquents, this could actually be a good example of positive masculinity if you look at it in a certain light. It’s very heavy-handed with the message that nobody can achieve greatness on their own and that surrounding yourself with the right people can change your life for the better. It’s not a rare theme in Japanese media by any means (it’s a central theme of the Persona series as well as another ultra-popular shonen series I’ve been reading in secret), but I really appreciate it being delivered through the lens of channeling brute strength and fighting prowess specifically to protect the vulnerable.

At the end of the day, though, it’s really just about guys bein’ dudes.

The production values on this are phenomenal and I have to commend CloverWorks for turning in yet another banger. The cast is deep and plenty talented (there’s a lot of Jujutsu Kaisen in there, and it should surprise nobody that the goofy, silver-haired leader of Bofurin is voiced by Yuichi Nakamura). The animation, shot composition, fight choreography, and lighting effects are all absolutely gorgeous, and it’s clear that they see this as a potential franchise. At least, I would certainly hope so, because what we actually got from the first season left me a little hungry. The tournament arc was juicy, and it went a lot longer toward introducing the ensemble cast than the two other action shows I just talked about, but it lasted about an episode too long for a 13-episode season, and the ending came at an awkward time. I was left wanting, but what I want is a second season, so I guess it did its job.

The issues with pacing and the weirdly-timed ending meant that Wind Breaker was a bit of a fence case for me between this section and the last, but my memories of watching it are almost uniformly positive, so into The Gems it goes. This show rocks. Dudes rock.

#anime reviews

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inkspecter · 2 years ago

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A Quick Guide to Clown Breeds

Today I'd like to discuss the amazing genetic diversity found in our delightful clowns. Most of my information comes from the fantastic @clownology4dummies blog and this article is a direct result of the mini-interview I had with them. There's quite a lot to take in so we'll break it down into a few sections. The goal is that you will be able to answer your own question as to which breed your little funny friend is!

What are the Different Clown Breeds?

There are actually quite a lot of clown breeds! The most common terms you'll find amongst the clown husbandry tag include Teacup, Jester, Circus, Rodeo, Party, Mime, Harlequin, Pierrot, Porcelain, Tramp, Tragic, Auguste, Whiteface, and Fool. A lot of these terms are subcategories of others, so let's take a look at the umbrella terms and their related variations.

Circus

Circus is likely the largest umbrella beyond even what I've denoted here. In most cases, every breed can qualify as a circus clown with only a few exceptions. Circus clowns are rowdy, energetic, and require significant stimulation making them a tough breed for average households and new keepers.

However their beauty rivals that of traditional clown performers making them sought after by collectors. Additionally, circus breeds also have three main variations with unique behaviors and appearances each.

Whiteface

Possibly the best known breed is the whiteface. Inspired by the leader of the troupe in the classic clown theater format, this breed is elegant and beautiful. Their skin tends to be chalk white all over and they beat delicate and intricate marking.

Auguste/contre-auguste

In traditional performances, the auguste is the absurd counterpart of the whiteface. Troupes may have more than one auguste whereas there is typically only one whiteface. The auguste often has a base skin tone that is highlighted with section of white. The white patches are usually outlined in a distinct color and the other marking they have are typically bold, bright, and exaggerated. They lack the subtle dignity of whitefaces and tend towards loud and boisterous appearances and behavior.

Tramp

Another popular circus variety is the tramp, also known as the hobo clown. In breeding circles it's typically referred to as the American Standard Coat. This breed is known for its long and luxurious coat. Besides this, they typically have markings somewhere between the tragic and the auguste, but with a more rugged flair.

Jester

The jester is easily one of the most sought after breeds of clowns. They hail from a very privileged lineage prized by royalty of old. As such they are known for their exquisite costumes of high quality materials and bold colors and patterns. Additionally, true purebred jesters have little to no facial markings.

Fool

The fool is the commoner variety of the jester breed and tends to have less exquisite breeding. They are typically mixed with any other variety of clown. Despite having slightly more drab costumes and coloring, they make up for this with big personalities and accessibility to the average collector.

Harlequin

The harlequin fits squarely between the fool and jester being both and neither at the same time. Primarily they are denoted as a jester with an emphasis on patterns. Harlequin make up for a lack of facial marking with an explosion of costume detail.

Pierrot

The pierrot is somewhere between the royal perfection of the jester and the raw elegance of the whiteface. These clowns tend to have delicate markings and minimalist costumes. Typically their coloration consist of almost exclusively white with small black or red elements. These clowns thrive on culture and have a major flair for dramatic theatrics.

Tragic

As a subcategory of Pierrot, the tragic clown unsurprisingly focuses on theater. However their interest is as one would expect, primarily about tragedies. They love all things sad, dramatic, and dreary. They can usually be spotted with recent tear stains. Don't be surprised if your clown spends a lot of time sighing or staring out the window. That's just how they are and they like it that way.

Porcelain

Since many breeds feature porcelain elements, this grouping could potentially be an umbrella term for most other categories. However for the sake of simplicity, this blog will use this term to refer to clowns with porcelain like details but who don't quite qualify as a whiteface on their own. They may be partially or entirely porcelain and as such should be treated with care and dignity so as to avou trips to the vet.

Teacup

The teacup clown is arguably the most popular among the clown husbandry tag. Due to their petite size and soft features, they are a great choice for the average size house dwelling keeper. Teacups typically range from three to five inches from toe to hat tip. They have soft sand filled bodies that are especially good at sitting and looking cute. Usually the face is porcelain.

Due to their popularity, teacups share a liniage with just about every other breed. It's not uncommon to find teacups with jester, whiteface, and even scareclown features.

Party

Another favorite among clown enthusiasts is the party breed. Much like real life clown performers, this breed is dynamic, friendly, and outgoing. The appearance of the breed is extremely varied and they can have features like just about any other breed. The only difference is that the party clown is always bright, colorful, and typically they have extraordinary patterns. Party clowns typically don't have anything subtle about them and their facial markings are between that of the August and the whiteface.

Rodeo

The rodeo is actually closely related to the American Standard Coat but it was bred for working purposes. Much like the real rodeo workers, this clown breed has a desire to work with livestock and has excellent herding instincts. As such they need a lot of space and significant exercise opportunities. They differ from tramps in that they rarely have coats; instead they features costumes akin to colorful exaggerations of cowboys.

Scare

The scare clown is my personal favorite breed and I'm very excited to have the chance to discuss them. This breed is determined more by diet and behavior than appearance. They live to thrill others and spend a lot of time lurking and waiting for the perfect jump scare opportunity. They are quite aggressive and most believe they are essentially completey wild and should not be interacted with like other domestic breeds.

In terms of appearance, scares can look like virtually any other clown; from elegant to eccentric. However, darker coloration and features that tend toward the uncanny are generally associated with scares. Additionally it's worth noting that some breeder intentionally breed clowns to look like horror movie clowns. While some argue this may not be the most sustainable or humane practice, lookalike scares still remain popular with many collectors (myself included!).

Mime

It's important to note that while mimes of the human cultural sense are a variety of clowns, they are different in the collector sense. While they share looks with whiteface and color palettes of Pierrot, it's not visible features that make them different. Mimes are by nature completey silent. They also confound themselves and others with magic tricks.

Interbreeding mimes with other clown varieties may result in extremely elegant offspring. However it's considered to be a highly immoral practice. Doing so causes a lot of stress to the parents and the offspring as mime mothers will consistently reject young the instant they make noise-- and most other breeds are very noisy from the get go. This means breeders must be able to care for extremely young and vulnerable clowns which is challenging to say the least.

Which Breed is My Clown?

For most of us, this is the most important question. However, it's actually a very difficult question to ask. Just talk to anyone that works at a local adoption center or take a look at your local strays. Clowns have been carelessly bred for decades by shady individuals. As such, few clowns you'll find today are definitely a purebred of any variety. Most display a chaotic mix of behavior and visual genetic variation.

As such it's not unfair to judge your teacup as also whiteface and jester. Or your jester as scare and tragic. Look closely at the details in your clowns makeup, costume, and behavior to make an educated guess. Ultimately only a genealogy test will give you definitive answers, but those can be pricey depending on your location. As such it's generally considered more worthwhile to puzzle the likely origins of clowns and simply enjoy them as the quirky mix breed they are.

Final Thoughts on Clown Breeds

In closing it's easy to see why new clown keeper's tend to become.confused as to which category their clowns fit into. I hope this guide has helped you clear up any confusion you have. Please feel free to comment below with any questions or to ask our friends at Clownology for even more expertise.

Additionally if you feel I've made any mistakes here, please don't hesitate to comment or reblog with corrections. As I primarily raise circus and scare clowns, I'm by no means an expert on every breed. I will be delighted to make adjustments so this blog can serve as a useful resource to newcomers and expert clown parents!

Thank you for taking the time to read and I hope you'll join me again soon for more clown news and articles. In the future I'll be discussing each breed in more detail as well as exploring specific pure bred lineages.

#clowncore #clown husbandry #clown #clowns #clown core #clownblr #clownery #clown collection #clown oc #clown doll

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kim-jongin-s · 2 months ago

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svt fic recs (mostly nc-17; jeongcheol, minwon, wonchan, jigyu + other)

JEONGCHEOL

"running home (to your sweet nothings)". oneshot, 1k. pg-13.

There's always someone who wants something from Seungcheol. Jeonghan wants nothing.

"happy hour". oneshot, 2k. pg-13.

No one could ever have Seungcheol or Jeonghan like they have each other. No one ever will.

"but i need affection". oneshot, 3k. nc-17.

“Did you like it? How I said your name?” Seungcheol dips a finger into Jeonghan’s boxers.

He’s shocked by a hand gripping his hair, pulling his gaze to Jeonghan’s face.

“Find out for yourself.”

"if it's forever (it's even better)". oneshot, 4k. pg-13.

It’s as simple as a three second moment in their choreography.

"who am i to ask for more?". oneshot, 8k. pg-13.

Jeonghan seems to flirt with everyone but Seungcheol.

Seungcheol wishes that wasn’t the case.

"you are the unexploded bomb to me". mpreg. oneshot, 21k. nc-17.

If Jeonghan gets pregnant, he's no longer eligible for enlistment. Seungcheol does his best.

MINWON

"birthday pup". au. oneshot, 3k. nc-17.

Mingyu was excited to give his boyfriend the one and only thing he'd been asking for for his birthday, which was sex. It was something they did annually, Wonwoo's favorite part of his birthdays. Though, this time, Mingyu decided to incorporate one of their newer kinks into it, dolling himself up with accessories, makeup and a pretty little outfit.

"what money can't buy". au. oneshot, 4k. nc-17.

Mingyu can go anywhere in the world, but he keeps returning to one particular resort in the hills of South Korea.

"dangerous". roommate!au. oneshot, 6k. nc-17.

a one-night stand between Wonwoo and Mingyu turns into two.

"lady vera". au. oneshot, 25k. nc-17. ♡

It starts with poker. Wonwoo finds an opponent who is, annoyingly enough, extremely prone to winning.

And then they proceed to spend an entire week together. In the middle of the damn ocean. Wonwoo has a feeling this trip is going to fuck him up beyond repair.

WONCHAN

"seventy-eight". + svt/svt. oneshot, 3.5k. pg-13.

“OK, if we’re really doing this,” Mingyu says, in his most Organising voice, “we’re going to need a spreadsheet. Someone,” he adds, imperiously, “pass me my iPad.” And he gestures to it across the Beijing hotel room.

"ache". omegaverse: alpha!ww, omega!dn. oneshot, 3.5k. nc-17.

It’s strawberries—bordering on overly ripe. Delicious and sweet. It’s been clinging to Chan’s skin for the past few weeks, only noticeable if you were close enough to touch.

The scent made Wonwoo’s teeth ache.

"welcome to the zoo!". + dino/svt. hybrid!au. 5 chapters, 63k. nc-17. (pls check the tags!)

Chan is full of love and ready to help when zoo keeper Jihoon explains the impasse he's found himself at in his hybrid breeding project.

JIGYU

"grounding techniques of the unofficial variety". zombie apocalypse!au. oneshot, 5k. nc-17.

After holding everything in to stay strong for the others, Mingyu finally breaks.

"i'm around, be around, come around, be around me". au: single dad!mg. oneshot, 30k. nc-17.

”we found someone safe like you told us to.”

it’s all so… personal. jihoon comes to the mall to watch people, but this is too close. he kind of wishes he’d slipped away after all.

“i meant a security guard or police officer, but”—he looks up at jihoon with relief still on his face and mouths a quick thank you—”good job. and he bought you ice cream?”

OTHER

"limited supply". s.coups/mingyu/seungkwan. omegaverse: omega!sc, omega!mg, omega!sk. oneshot, 6k. nc-17.

Omega Seungcheol is missing his alpha boyfriend Jeonghan more than he ever has, so Mingyu and Seungkwan offer to have an omega threesome with him as a distraction.

"swallow your tears". seokhoon. oneshot, 7k. nc-17.

There's only one issue that comes with recording a new song with Seokmin - he's beautiful when he cries, and Jihoon sort of wants to make him cry all the time.

"i keep closing my eyes but i can't block you out". booseok. volleyball player!au, rule 63. oneshot, 11k. nc-17.

When did “I want to be her” become “I want her”?

"it's just that i'll always choose you". verkwan. omegaverse: omega!sk, alpha!vn. oneshot, 12k. nc-17. ♡

Hansol and Seungkwan have been broken up for two-hundred and twenty three days.

"peaches and jasmine". seokwoo. omegaverse: alpha!ww, omega!dk. oneshot, 20k. nc-17.

Call him old-fashioned, but Seokmin can only see himself being with a good, strong alpha. Too bad every alpha he’s met thinks he’s not omega enough. Too bad Jeon Wonwoo is an omega.

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yuukienstarsera · 2 years ago

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Knights with a Idol S/O (part 1)

Knights (separately) Leo x gn reader, Izumi x gn reader Fluff, Little angst, idol stuff. Warnings: Anxiety thoughts (Izumi), nicknames, kisses,

This is the first part, the second is part here!☆

You belong to a new group under ES Square, you were already in a relationship with him when you debuted…

Leo Tsukinaga

At the beginning

He was so hyped up when you debut, he attended your concert, and he was the first in the line, screaming the song.

I really believe that he copy and paste the link of your debut song to all the contacts that he had in hold hands.

He will give you advice about how is alright to take the brakes once in a while.

He will make sure to be friends (or leave a good impression) with all your bandmates.

How he shows his love (in public, in private, etc.)

He won't stop talking about you.(he talks a lot about the things he loves)

Messages and calls in your free time, even between your activities, I believe that he would make time to do that.

When neither of you has idol activities, you would have dates in his room watching videos and documentaries about aliens, spending time together. (Natsume is so done with you two)

Kisses on the forehead and cheeks (Quick little kisses on the cheek in public) and a lot of hugs!

Communication is the key, Leo will make sure to have it!

I believe that one of his love languages is dedicating his songs to you.

“I promise you this, my dear” and with that “Silent Oath” by Knights finishes.

When you and he are in the same concert he would go to the dressing room you are in and would give you encouragement

“You will shine like you always do!” ”You have nothing to worry about, they gonna love you, but not as much I do!” “Show them your beautiful and powerful voice”

Another love language that he had is writing songs for you! if your group chooses one of the songs that he writes, he will say it to his fans.

How rumors start

Has I said before, he would say to his fans “By the way I write a song for (insert group name), they are very talented! I was really happy when they told me that they choose my song”

When he said that, all of his fans were a little suspicious about it, why does he have such interest in that group? That is how the rumors begin.

Another thing that caught the fan's attention was your actions.

On variety shows you would answer things like “Actually, my favorite song is (insert a knights song) because their voices are so beautiful” “I usually spend my free days with Leo-kun, we had a lot of fun!” “On my debut days, I always remember having a lovely supporter, thanks to them i keep going until today”

How the fans know about your relationship

Knights won an award, so they diced that Tsukasa and Leo would give the thanks speech to their fans.

Everything was going normal until Leo finished with “I wanna thank our princess for all the support that they gave us, I wanna give a special thank to (your name) for always supporting knights, but above all, for being my inspiration “ and with that, all the world knows that you and Leo were in a relationship

“I´m sorry, I shouldn´t have done that,” he said with tears in his eyes.

“Don´t worry love, I am thankful to be in your life ” you whipped his tears with your hands, grabbing him by his cheeks.

“You are not angry with me?” he asked looking at your eyes, see those beautiful green eyes happy again was the only thing that really matters to you.

“If I was you in that situation, I would do the same, or even worse, I would scream that I love you, aliens would know at that moment that we are in love” Both of you laugh when you said the last thing

“I love you dear” he saw your lips, he always does it when he wants a kiss.

“I love you more, Can I kiss you?” you said while you approached even more.

“Of course” he murmurs, his lips were soft.

You had your world in your hands.

Izumi Sena

At the beginning

Unfortanetaly, He was in Florence by the time you debuted, but after your concert finished, he would call you to say that he was watching you online and all the moments that had him fall in love more with you.

I believe that he has a lot of merch about you in his room, Shu probably has complained about it.

He will give you advice like is alright to do work perfectly, but will be occasions when you can't do that, is important that even if you get frustrated about it, don't give up, you are gonna be alright, you are human after all, take a break, and keep it going.

If one of your bandmates gets too close, he would tell you that he is jealous about it (please he needs a lot of words of affirmation).

How he shows his love (in public, in private, etc.)

One of his love languages is gift-making knit things for you! You already had a whole closet with the things that he made.

He would check on you via messages, he makes sure that you eat all your meals, and you are restringing well, etc.

When both of you had free time, you spent time together on dates outside ( like going to the beach, aquarium, looking at the stars) and inside (watching movies together, taking coffee while you catch up).

He is more to give hugs than kisses, in private we would love to kiss you on your cheeks (he gives you kisses on your hands when you are in public, he is very professional when both of you had worked together )

Izumi spent a lot of time working as a model, but when you need it he always is there for you.

“Izumi, don't you have work today?” “I reschedule it, have you eaten? get up, we are going to the cafeteria”

When both of you are on the stage, he will give little glances, only to make sure that you are alright.

Has I said before, he always does little things that prove that he loves you, for example, opening the door for you, carrying your things, ordering food for you, and retouching your make-up, etc.

How rumors start

It was his actions that betrayed him, he always makes sure that you are safe, little actions like holding your hand when both of you are getting down the stage, how he gives you attention when you speak on the microphone, etc.

Fancams of you and Izumi smiling at each other went viral, and soon both of you began to have worked as models for different campaigns (both of you were happy about it).

The connection that both have could be seen through the camera lenses, they invite you to a variety show.

How the fans know about your relationship.

In the variety show that you were invited to, you said it unconsciously, you found out when you saw the episode on the TV, fortunately, Izumi was with you at the time.

In the episode, both of you were doing an activity that was a little dangerous and you said “Be careful love”, Izumi responded “Don't worry, we are gonna win this”, and both of you know that this is only going to confirm the dating rumors.

“Are you scared?” he asked, you were in total shock, how could you say it so naturally? What is gonna happened next? Anxious thoughts were running wild in your mind.

“Love, look, everything will be alright, don't worry” you don't even notice when he approached until he was hugging you.

“I´m sorry” tears start to fall while hugging Izumi.

“What are you apologizing for? I couldn't be more proud that I have you as my partner, that we love each other” he murmurs in your ear “Besides, we are pretty obvious, and the media love us, so relax, believe in me that everything is gonna be alright” he whipped your tears.

“Gosh I love you so much, you know that?”

“Yeah, Who doesn't love me?”

“You are ruining the mood, love”

“I´m ruining it?” he said caressing your cheek with his hand while he approached to kiss you.

“Sometimes I hate you” you murmur into his lips.

#ensemble stars #enstars x reader #enstars imagines #enstars ff #enstars x you #enstars fluff #leo tsukinaga #leo tsukinaga x reader #leo tsukinaga x yn #izumi sena #izumi sena x reader #izumi sena x y/n #izumi sena x you #knights enstars #yuuki works ☆#knights ☆#headcanon ☆#esworks

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hearts4youz · 1 year ago

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The Captains Daughter Chapter 11

A/N: kinda rushed this one but a lil more action for ya. Thank yall so much for reading my fic!!

1.5k words

Reader pov:

The next morning at breakfast you were extra groggy. The single off day had thrown off your sleep schedule. Dark circles hung under your eyes, you squinted at the bright light in the mess. You felt a presence behind you, you turned around to reveal Ghost.

"Listen Y/N..." he said in a monotone voice.

"About the other day, at training. I'm sorry." He let out a breath as he said the last word.

You raised an eyebrow.

"You... your sorry?" heat flooded to your cheeks.

"Yeah I... shouldn't have pushed you so hard." This was very unlike him. It felt like the walls were down. You took this opportunity to slip in a joke without getting yelled at.

"You have a heart?" you smirked.

"A cold one" he grunted.

You smiled, you felt like he opened up, like there was some understanding between you two now. Like you were closer. He didn't appear to reciprocate as his face had the same stone cold look. Your mind was taken off of it as everyone else began to gather at the table, talking loudly. Price quickly quieted them down as he cleared his throat to make an announcement.

"Meeting room, right after breakfast. Mission today," he kept it short and sweet.

You finished your breakfast while listening to Gaz and Soap debate on a variety of topics.

"Pineapple belongs on pizza!" Gaz shouted.

"No. It. does. NOT!!!" Soap said, standing up.

Things were just getting interesting, but then your father scolded them. At that point, you decided to throw away your trash and head towards the meeting room. You walked down the corridor and stopped for a moment to look out the window. Snow whirled around, the pine trees outside had icicles dangling from them. It was a truly picturesque scene. It brought you back to years ago, when outside your living room window was a landscape just like this one.

It was a beautiful morning, just like this one. It was a dreamy white Christmas, one you would only see in movies. The family, gathered by the tree, basking in the comfort of each other. The mother, recording the kids opening the presents. The father, just as surprised at the gifts as the kids are. Except, this was not the movies, your mother had left that summer, and your father was slowly recovering. He managed to put together a breakfast for you, the pancakes were burnt, but you knew better than to complain. At this point, you understood that mommy wasn't coming back, and daddy needed his space. Today was especially hard for him, even at your young age, you knew to be extra cheery to try and bring up his spirits. You opened the gifts he bought you, thanking him after each one, until there was one remaining under the tree. He squinted at it.

"I didn't put that one there" He said suspiciously.

"I did!" You said with a grin.

He looked at you, puzzled as you placed the wrapped present in his hands. He tore off the wrapping paper and it almost brought him to tears. He held up a framed picture of the two of you standing together at thanksgiving at your grandparents house. You had on the adorable long sleeve with a cartoon turkey on it, your father wore a polo and nice pants. It was one of the first times he had genuinely smiled since your mother left. The frame was decorated in a kiddish fashion, you had made it yourself at preschool.

"Y/N..." he choked.

"I love it."

You broke into a smile as he was at a loss for words. To this day, that picture sits on top of your mantle. After that day, Price's mood improved tremendously. He no longer spent long hours in his bedroom alone. There were still tough days, but from that moment on, things got better.

Your trance was broken by Gaz's voice, "Y/N come on! the meetings about to start."

"Coming," You said, as you made your way into the meeting room.

The second you sat down, your father began to speak. He talked about today's mission. Your head perked up at the word mission.

This is my chance to prove myself to Ghost, you thought.

Price droned on about the details and you listened intently, not wanting to mess anything up.

"Today's task is simple. Take out a person of interest, and head home. Lets try not to cause a ruckus in the town, alright"

A picture of the man's face was broadcast on the screen at the front of the room. He was quite ugly, with a long scar running down his ghostly pale, blotchy face. If you weren't so focused, you would laugh at that man being considered a threat.

When it was time to board the helicopter, you triple checked your gear, this earned you a laugh from Soap. When you reach the designated area, you follow protocol exactly as you are supposed to. You act exactly like a young, green, recruit, which is slightly embarassing, but hopefully it will pay off when you do something right. Last mission you weren't exactly impressive, this mission, you will prove yourself worthy of working with the 141.

Everyone gathers around as the helicopter drops you off.

"Alright listen up" Price commands.

"Trusted intel says our guy is in a house about 5 miles from here, I had us dropped off here so we can make a discreet entrance. We don't want a repeat of last time around."

"Gaz and Soap will enter through the back when we get there. Ghost, Y/N, and I will go through the front. Understood?"

Everyone nods a yes. You all begin trekking through the woods. Gaz and Soap continue their arguement from earlier.

"YES you can put ranch on pizza!" Soap yells.

"NOO!" Gaz yells.

Everyone chuckles as they carry on, their bickering passes the time.

Hours later, you finally reach the house. It is on the outskirts of a small town, only a few people mill about in the streets. Your group crouches at the edge of the woods to avoid being seen by civilians. Once the coast is clear, You, Ghost, and Price run to the front door, while Soap and Gaz do the same in the back. The team moves almost in sync with each other. They break down the doors on both sides immediately taking enemy fire from the occupants inside. You are severely outnumbered, but this is nothing that the 141 hasn't dealt with before. You do an impressive job, taking out many combatants and helping advance further in the house.

Once the first floor is cleaned out, the team moves up the stairs, there are a lot less soldiers so the next few floors are quick work. When you reach the door where intel says the POI is, it is of course, locked. Gaz takes a step back, winds up, and kicks the spot next to the lock, effectively breaking it. You wait a moment before opening the door, listening for how many are inside.

You find yourself at the front when the door is finally opened. Swallowing your fear, you rush inside, there are multiple soldiers. You fire three rounds, three enemies fall backward onto the floor, blood pouring out of their chests. Soap and Ghost take out a few more.

"Where's the POI?" Price says.

Everyone looks around uneasily.

"He has to be in this building, there's too many soldiers here for there to be nothing of value," you answer.

Everyone backs out of the room through the broken door, but you feel like you're being watched. You decide not to say anything out of fear of being mocked. You decide to bring up the rear of the group so you can watch your six without being questioned for turning around so often.

You give the room a last glance, you are startled by a tall, lanky man, possibly in his early 50's. He points a pistol at you with his finger on the trigger.

Your eyes widen, "DOWN!" You scream.

Without questioning, everyone hits the deck, flattening themselves to the weathered floor as a shot whizzed by overhead. Like lightning, everyone is on their feet again in a flash. Returning fire to the man. Multiple bullets hit him, his body convulses, then crumples to the ground.

"Fucking hell," Ghost sighs as he catches his breath.

Price claps a hand on your shoulder, "Way to watch our backs kiddo." he says with a proud smile.

You release a pent up breath and smile. You slightly relax as Gaz identifies the body as the POI you were after.

"You've done well today, kid," Soap exclaims. Everyone nods in response.

He was right, you did well today. Maybe tomorrow Ghost wouldn't go so hard on you in training. Maybe you could even share a moment together like this morning. Your heart fluttered at the idea of his praise, since it was so rare.

You went to bed happy that night. Exhausted, but happy.

Taglist: @abbiesxox @n30n-j3lly @weird-katthing @kayoyamamegame

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that-house · 1 year ago

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The Cosmic Wheel Sisterhood

This game was so good I decided to write a review for it, which is,, not something I tend to do on here. My very subjective and enthusiastic game review begins here.

Cosmic Wheel Sisterhood is a visual novel where you play as Fortuna, a fortune-telling witch exiled from her coven and forced to sit around on an asteroid for a thousand years. This kinda blows, so she summons a Behemoth named Abramar (the big boy up above) to help her get free.

Abramar helps her make a new oracle deck with which to tell fortunes, and visitors come pouring in while Fortuna learns how to use her new deck and schemes to overthrow the leader of the coven that exiled her.

Gameplay: 5/5

It’s a visual novel, with no parts of the game requiring skill in anything other than decision making. This is not a game that is going to challenge any part of you other than your tear ducts. That being said, the specific mechanics brought to the visual novel by the addition of the oracle deck are fucking delightful. For any given choice, a card represents some subset of the possible answers for a choice, which you can then choose between. Sometimes you get unlucky, and pull a card that makes all of your choices shit. Sometimes you get lucky and can perfectly shape how a character’s arc goes. It’s really neat and can add a lot of replayability. Also, you get to custom-make all of your cards and some of mine wound up being really pretty. There’s no fucking feeling like drawing your favorite card that you spent 10 minutes designing while you’re tackling a tough problem. The game took me about 5 hours to beat.

Story: 4.5/5

I have a few minor gripes with the plot. Some of the characters and their arcs could have stood to have a little more time spent on them (the romance subplot in particular is… very fast). Besides that, the characters are all delightful, the overarching plot is FUCKING BEAUTIFUL and the setting is really fucking interesting. The game tackles things like gender, sexuality, fate/free will, and Lovecraftian gods. Their handling of these themes (besides fate/free will, which is definitely the core idea being explored here) isn’t anything revolutionary but it’s solid. I almost cried a few times, both during some conversations in the middle of the game and during the absolute beauty of a climax. There’s a decent number of possible endings the game can have (There seems like there’d be 6 main possible endings). As befitting a game that’s all about fate, your choices VERY early on will inexorably bind you to a given path, but the terms of how it all shakes out are up to you.

Art: 5/5

Gorgeous gorgeous pixel art. Phenomenal aesthetics. A variety of wonderful character designs. There isn’t much to say, it’s just pixel art executed flawlessly. There isn’t a ton of stuff going on, because it’s a visual novel about sitting on an asteroid in space, but god this game is so fucking pretty like jesus christ

Music: 6/5

Every character has their own theme that plays while you’re talking to them (and they’re all bangers). I will be listening to this soundtrack for a WHILE, and I will 100000% be stealing the climactic song for a D&D boss fight. It’s very Hyper Light Drifter: impeccable vibes and with a certain somber determination present throughout much of it.

Final Ranking: a very subjective 5/5

This game isn’t gonna be for everyone. Visual novels aren’t everyone’s cup of tea, and they aren’t necessarily mine. But this game was fucking awesome, and it’s currently $15 on Steam. If you check it out, I’d love to hear what you thought of it!

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shadowqueenjude · 1 year ago

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Nesta ends IC part 12

The Spring Court was even more beautiful than she had dreamed.

It was so bright and colorful. The chattering of birds in the trees was music to her ears. And there were so many types of flowers, varieties so numerous that there were many that Elain had only seen in books. The grass was so green it almost looked fake. There were small ponds with little lotuses floating across the surface, so clean the water was a silvery blue. But the most stunning thing about the Spring Court was the roses.

There were roses in every color in existence, and Elain was sure these flowers were magical, because no such color flowers existed in the human world. Coming down from the flowers were thorns so sharp they could cut a human hand off. Elain would never need to make a garden here. There were enough flowers to fill a thousand of her little gardens back home.

And she was glad about it. She had a greater purpose than tending to gardens. After so long in the Night Court, Elain had never expected to see a place more beautiful. But the Spring Court…topped it by a long shot. Elain couldn’t understand how Feyre ever left this place.

Lucien offered his hand to her, and she took it, letting him guide her towards the palace. Elain tried to recall her sister’s descriptions of the place. It looked nothing like what Feyre had described.

“Tamlin trashed the old place,” Lucien explained. “So, I had to have it rebuilt.”

Elain shuddered. “This Tamlin sounds like a real asshole.”

“He didn’t use to be like that,” Lucien said. There was a lot of sadness in his voice-pain. “He was my best friend. He saved my life when my brothers came to kill me. We had each other’s backs for a long time.” He took a deep breath. “What we went through under the mountain- it changed us. It took our worst characteristics and inflated them. For Tamlin, it was that need to control, to protect. He and Feyre dealt with their trauma the same; burrowed it down and attempted to ignore it. It tore them apart, and lo and behold, a few months later, Feyre is married to the wicked High Lord of the Night Court.”

Elain squeezed his hand, unable to come up with an adequate response. “Do you mind telling me- what happened down there? To you, I mean.”

Lucien sighed. “I was only down there for a little while. But they were some of the worst days of my life. What Amarantha did to us…she loved playing with me. Then Feyre too, when she came. Because we were the two people most loved by Tamlin. When Feyre came, Amarantha demanded that she tell her her name. Used me as bait. Asked me Feyre’s name. I didn’t say shit, of course. I could never betray Tamlin like that. I had sworn him an oath. Or Feyre, who despite being a murderous human, had grown on me. She had become my friend. And Rhysand was there- Amarantha’s lackey. To mind torture me. But I was ready. I was ready for Rhysand to torture me, turn me to dust, end my life. I’d sooner do that than betray them.”

Tears bit the corners of Elain’s eyes. So brave- so admiringly brave.

“But Feyre heard me. I made one small noise of pain, and she gave away her name. To spare me. After that, I knew I’d do anything to help her. Oath or no oath.”

He spoke about her with such…intimacy. Elain knew Feyre had been with Tamlin and Rhysand, but she wondered if there had ever been something between Feyre and Lucien. God knows if Elain had been in Feyre’s place, she wouldn’t have looked twice at a Tamlin or a Rhysand when this male was right there.

Ok. So, she was jealous. A little bit. So what?

“And then, I had to watch them torture her. Her human body was so much more fragile than ours…I’ll never forget her screams. I can only imagine how bad it was for Tamlin. Later on, I was able to sneak into the dungeons and give her a cloak and fix her nose. I left coloration so the repair wasn’t obvious, of course. Then in her first task…I helped her. I gave her the direction of the monster that was hunting her. It saved her life, but Amarantha nearly killed me for it. Tamlin begged for my life. Amarantha agreed but forced him to deliver my punishment. Twenty lashes. Then she used magic to keep my Fae body from healing properly. I couldn’t walk for days.”

Rage filled Elain’s body at the unspeakable torture her mate had endured. “The second task…There was a riddle. There were hot spikes that threatened to come down on me and her. All Feyre had to do was answer the riddle and we were free. But those hot spikes kept coming lower and lower. And when Feyre looked at me, when I saw the panic in her eyes, I realized…this bitch couldn’t read. I was going to die because my murderous teenage human friend who also happened to be my High Lord’s girlfriend was fucking illiterate. At some point I was like, ‘Just pick one!’ It was a 33% chance of survival but still higher than not picking one at all. Then at the very last minute, she slammed her hand on one, and miraculously, it was the right answer. I was so delirious; I was muttering prayers to the floor.”

Elain was so entranced by the story that she didn’t even notice when the two of them walked right through the doors of the palace. Her hand was still tightly clenched in his, and it just felt so right to be there, to have their hands entwined.

“Then,” Lucien whispered, “I had to watch that filthy prick dress Feyre up like a whore. He drugged her with some kind of Faerie wine and forced her to do lap dances for him. The scum of the earth, that man. And let me tell you, that dress left nothing to the imagination. She might as well have been naked.”

Elain again seethed with anger- this time on her sister’s behalf. “What a bastard.”

Lucien nodded. “Then the final task. Feyre was forced to stab two faeries, plus Tamlin. But Feyre knew Tamlin wouldn’t die, because of his heart of stone. But Amarantha tricked her. She used her powers to kill her. We all heard her neck snap. But just before she died, she answered the riddle that saved us all.”

There were tears in Lucien’s eyes too.

“And Tamlin raged. He went after Amarantha. I threw him my sword, and he ran it through her head.”

“Wow,” Elain said. “That is…an insane story.”

Lucien smirked. “You want more stories, oh, all-seeing goddess of flowers, then there’s a lot more where that came from.”

Elain blushed.

Nesta’s POV

“I can’t help but think this is a terrible idea,” Nesta said, scowling at stunning red dress that hugged her body. Her hair was in some complicated updo, and it took all her self-control not to yank it out.

“You’re doing great sweetie,” Eris crooned mockingly.

Nesta glared at him. The asshole of course looked perfect in his glittering royal green robes, because why look anything less than perfect when you can be flawless all the time?

“This is bullshit. No one is going to believe I’d actually marry you.”

“I’d be slightly offended by that, but I know it’s far from the truth. My brother is mated to one Archeron, so why wouldn’t I go for another one? You sisters are taking Prythian by storm, you know.”

Nesta snorted. “Was it supposed to be hard? This place has been stagnant for years.” Eris grinned. “That is has. Prythian has been waiting a long time for you ladies. Especially you, Nesta Archeron.”

He offered his hand. His flawless hand, with long, deft fingers that had been inside her body. Nesta took it. His hands were smooth as butter despite the countless lives Nesta was sure he had taken with them.

“Hold on tight,” he murmured in her ear as they winnowed away. They were at the edge of a forest.

And there, about 500 feet away, was a large, sloping house so in tune with its surroundings it appeared to be part of the mountain it was built on. It was absolutely massive, layers upon layers coming together to form the sprawling complex. There were soldiers everywhere, armed to the teeth. But as Eris came through, his face morphed into a cool mask, Nesta beside him, looking equally bored, none of them stopped the duo. Soon, they neared the gates to the palace. The guards were even more densely packed near the entrance than on the field. Unbelievable. Eris didn’t acknowledge any of them as he strode in, Nesta following his example. The two of them didn’t dare speak as Eris led them through room after room, until he finally turned toward the throne room. And as Eris led them towards the dais, Nesta met the eyes of Beron Vanserra, who smiled like a wolf. Eris really was his mother’s son. She saw almost nothing of him in his father’s face. Only the coldness of his expression, the sharpness of the brow, and the casual grace he exuded. She had only seen the man once before, at the High Lord meeting. She hadn’t liked him then, and she certainly didn’t like him now. She knew quite a bit about the Autumn Court, having learnt from Eris and to an extent, Lucien. The most beautiful court- and the most vicious. Beron was the oldest of the High Lords. Nesta felt like that was a sign that he should just drop dead. But she maintained a small, bland smile on her face as she curtseyed to the asshole who had somehow raised Lucien and Eris.

“Father,” Eris bowed. “Allow me to introduce you to my betrothed. Nesta Archeron.”

Beron’s eyes swept over her. A cold, calculated assessment. Nesta straightened. Let a little silver enter her eyes. Not a lot, but enough to send a message.

You’re not the only Alpha here, Beron.

Beron remained unruffled. Simply continued to study her, then his son. Then said, voice full of vicious triumph, “So another one of my sons is to marry an Archeron.” Eris stiffened ever so slightly but said nothing. Beron still pretended like Lucien was his son? So, the world hadn’t realized then that it was the power of the Day Court that had saved Feyre Cursebreaker’s life.

It felt like they were in the forest, playing a dominance game, marking their territory. It was both ridiculous and terrifying at the same time.

But then Beron waved his hand. A clear dismissal of Eris and Nesta.

Their plan had worked. Beron had bought their ruse. But somehow, Nesta felt that if she walked out of the throne room and Beron was still alive, they’d never have a good chance of killing him. It was in this open place that he was the most vulnerable. Hence the soldiers.

So, Nesta disregarded the plan she and Eris had carefully constructed and slowly but surely, let silver fire build in her veins. Shuffled her feet. Beron was hardly paying attention. Nesta caught Eris’s eye, however, and he understood her plan.

And just as they reached the exit to the throne room, Nesta whipped around and struck.

She had unleashed incredible magic to defeat Rhysand and save Feyre.

Yet, it was nothing compared to the power that now rocked the world.

Something boomed in the distance, as if her power had summoned a storm. Or maybe she was the storm. She certainly felt like it. She was the eye of the hurricane, she was everything and nothing, she was all that was Made, she was life and death, she was fire and shadow, the silver flames raw from the depths of the Cauldron itself.

This girl, who had had the audacity to steal from the Goddess of the Fae? She couldn’t be beaten by anyone. Beron didn’t stand a chance as her storm hit him square in the chest, and his soldiers could only watch in horror as Beron became younger and younger, until he was nothing but dust on the wind. And Nesta noticed there was a whiff of something red hot in there. Like smoking embers. She had reduced him to the very essence of what he had been crafted from. She turned around to find Eris bowing to her, along with the rest of the faeries in the room. She wondered if it was due to the fact that despite the fact that she had just murdered their High Lord, they had witnessed such incredible power that they felt compelled to bow. Or if they hated him as much as she did. Her question was answered when Eris kissed her hand and said, loud and clear, “All hail the High Lady of the Autumn Court!”

Tamlin’s POV

Tamlin felt naked without the High Lord power roiling through his veins.

He didn’t regret giving it up. Not in the slightest. It was a burden he never expected to have, never wanted to have. He had never been good at any of that courtly stuff. He had been happy to leave that stuff to his father and brothers. And after he had become High Lord after all…the title had brought him nothing but pain. Nothing but misery. So, he would leave that title behind him to become one with nature. He just didn’t expect to feel the absence of his beast form so badly. It hadn’t truly left him, of course. It was still there, and if Tamlin strained himself, he could probably form claws. But the full-blooded beast was gone.

He hoped his friend forgave him for putting the High Lord’s burden on him. But Lucien had always been stronger than him. Better than him. He had been destined to become a High Lord practically from the moment he was born. It was why his brothers had hunted him so maliciously, despite him being the youngest of seven.

He had been a terrible friend recently. He had been so bitter from the fallout with Feyre that he had taken it out on Lucien. Lucien, who had come back for him. The only person who had. He had been his only companion those weeks.

He prayed that Lucien would understand how sorry he was. Tamlin had been doing a lot of meditation. He found it centered him, calmed him. Out here in nature, he was at home. He had lost track of how long ago it had been when he had said goodbye to Lucien. Time meant nothing to him. Time held no meaning. There was only nature.

In this place, he found he was able to achieve something that he hadn’t felt in a long time. A feeling he thought he had felt with Feyre, in those brief months when he had fallen for her, thorns and all. But even that feeling couldn’t compare to this. Something restless had settled inside him. At last, he was at home.

He had found inner peace.

Not me completely changing the entire structure of Prythian 😭😭😭😭three new rulers in the span of a few months, two of them women. But who the hell cares. I know Nesta's fire isn't the same as Lucien and Eris's but it's still a variety of fire. And Nesta is just so powerful I feel like the Autumn Court magic would choose Nesta over Eris. I mean Eris will still become a High Lord if Nesta marries him though ;) The ending is for all the Tam Tam stans who still have hope for him! I know I didn't resolve Neris and Elucien, but they're both extremely implied and basically inevitable, but let me know if you think I should write one last part resolving both relationships!

#pro lucien vanserra #lucien vanserra #elucien #pro nesta archeron #eris vanserra #pro eris vanserra #neris #high lady nesta #high lord eris #pro tamlin #tamlin redemption #fanfic #pro elain archeron #high lady of the night court #high lady feyre

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