#but its complicated i do still feel frustrated with her and the way she behaved

[seinfeldyke]

realistically i hate putting a sad little post in my story, have my ex comment on it and know when i see her later this week she will bring it up and ill have to consider whether i can whimper and say im lonely and sad or i should be chill because i dont want her pity. but im chilling cause its christmas so i wont think about it at all actually

[tomwambsmilk]

watching yellowjackets is a complicated and fascinating experience to me because the bones of something sooooooo good and cool and interesting are there, and truly I think the problem with the show is that the writers weren't quite skilled enough to execute their vision in a way that fully works and is thematically coherent. and that's not even a huge black mark against them because I think it would, in fact, take quite a bit of skill to successfully execute the premise of yellowjackets.

I think big-picture the main problems are: 1) there hasn't been enough thought to what they want to say about, idk, the experience of adolescence, or the socialization of women, or relationships between women, or how aggression manifests in those relationships, or any one of a number of topics that could have really grounded the show by connecting the wild and fantastical things that happen to people's real-life lived experiences. For example, I think Misty is a huge missed opportunity because there could have been a real "USS Callister" type plot with her where it's clear that she's socially shunned and it's also clear that she treats people horribly and selfishly, but it's not clear which came first. do they shun her because of how she behaves or does she behave this way because she's shunned? I would have loved to see an exploration of the really complicated ways in which kids who are socially ostracized can end up developing some really harmful personality traits which further ostracize them, and how this developed into her role as a nurse which gives her control over vulnerable people. instead they went more in the direction of "misty is fucking crazy isn't she" which is very fun for sure but feels somewhat shallow without that exploration. I think there's quite a few cases where a potentially nuanced or interesting plot or character development is jettisoned in favour of something that's "more fun"

2) they're bad at giving their characters, ESPECIALLY their secondary characters, any depth. most grating example to me is Laura Lee who is just the Girl Who Is Christian and has no personality beyond that. but she's just the most extreme version of a problem which I think plagues all the characters except possibly Shauna. every other character feels so much like a Type it's hard to care about them as people rather than as agents of a story. Jackie is Insecure Pretty Popular Girl In a Codependent Friendship, Natalie is the Druggie Burnout From A Bad Home, Misty is the Bullied Kid Who Turns Out to Be a Bad Apple, Taissa is the Bullheaded Strong Confident Independent Leader Who is Also Kind of Shitty and Doesn't Listen. I'm not sure why Shauna is the exception to the Types, but I think a lot of what the story does with adult Shauna (especially re: deceased Jackie representing everything Shauna wants to be and is not) is some of its best and most interesting stuff, and 80% of why I'm still watching, and I wish they could've brought some of that to at least the other main characters.

3) the lack of subtext. the amount of dialogue where I cringe because it's someone bluntly stating something which I think would have felt more convincing and would have hit harder if it was instead communicated through subtext. the worst example of this imo is when Jeff and Shauna visit Jackie's parents for the birthday lunch, but it's everywhere.

so watching it is continually frustrating in a way mediocre shows usually aren't because it could have been good!!! it could have been so good!!!! and in a weird way that circles back to part of the appeal for me because I'm so enthralled with the premise that I'm constantly thinking about what I would have done with it as a writer, which is a fun exercise. I'm not quite finished season 1 yet but I am going to keep watching for sure if only for that and that alone

[pastelwitchling]

Under the Microscope 2/3

Ramadan starts tomorrow, so posting might slow down, but I’m glad I managed to finish this beforehand. Let me know what you thought! I’m going to go do the million other things I have to get done before tomorrow.

***

               Isobel had read a lot of harlequin novels, so she knew all about the one bed trope. She just never imagined she’d actually be living it.

               Sleep had been a bit more of a complicated issue than she’d expected it to be. For one thing, there was a matter of where everyone would sleep. Isobel recognized how weird this arrangement must’ve been for Kyle, who saw his best friend whenever he looked at the woman he was going out with, and saw the woman he was going out with whenever he looked at his best friend. She had no question, however, of how painful it must’ve been for Michael. To want to touch his boyfriend and not be able to, to be so uncomfortable no matter where he looked.

               Don’t get her wrong. Of all of them, she and Alex got the Olympic medal for the Most Uncomfortable Competition, but she understood her brother was hurting. That was why, when he suggested Alex and Isobel take Alex’s bed while he and Kyle take the floor (“Keep that barrier up between you though!” Michael had warned, to which Isobel had rolled her eyes), Isobel couldn’t find it in her heart to argue or refuse.

               After all, it would’ve been a lot easier for Michael to know his Alex was lying beside his sister and not beside the handsome doctor who he actually had a chance of falling for. Who wasn’t helpless to those cheekbones?

               The issue should’ve been resolved then, but for whatever reason, Isobel could not get comfortable. She turned over in bed, not yet aware of how wildly her left leg would behave on its own, and ended up kicking the pillow wall Michael had built between them onto the floor. Alex hardly noticed as he, too, seemed frustrated with his two new legs, even in sleep, and tossed the rest of the pillows between them out of the way to have more room to stretch.

               Isobel pressed her face into her pillow for a long minute, hoping to suffocate herself enough to sleep, but she was restless.

               Finally, she opened her eyes, meeting Alex’s sleeping face on the pillow next to her, and whispered, “Pssst! PSSST! Alex, are you awake?”

               She hadn’t really expected an answer, and if she had, she would’ve expected it to be groggy and unfocused. She might’ve felt bad afterwards about waking Alex up, but at least she would’ve had someone to stay up with.

               Instead, Alex sighed and opened his eyes halfway, resigned. He clearly hadn’t slept a wink either.

               “Yeah,” he muttered with the heavy air of someone saying, But what else is new? “And you? Can’t sleep?”

               Isobel shook her head. “I’m so uncomfortable. I don’t know why.”

               Alex scoffed faintly, a tired but amused smirk tugging at his lips. “Gee, Isobel, could it be that you have only one leg?”

               “Maybe,” Isobel bit her lower lip, unconvinced. “It’s just . . . it doesn’t completely feel that way. It’s like I can’t . . . sit still, you know? Like something’s going on up here” – she tapped her temple – “that I’m supposed to be worrying about, and I don’t completely know what it is yet, and that’s making me worry more.”

               Alex’s smile had faded completely, but he didn’t look surprised. “Yeah,” he murmured. “It’s called PTSD. Your body’s used to being in fight mode for so long that it doesn’t know how to rest.”

               “Even when it’s supposed to?”

               “Sometimes especially then,” Alex looked down. “I’m sorry, Isobel.”

               “What?” she blinked. “What – oh, no! No, I – I don’t mind! Hey, I’m tougher than I look! Besides, I . . . I get being used to fight mode.”

               Isobel didn’t know why she was telling Alex any of this. It was something she hardly ever shared with her brothers, and yet she knew how Alex was feeling now; she knew the resignation, exhaustion. He may have looked like he was used to being awake at all hours of the night, but Isobel knew how tired he really was.

               “Sometimes I would wake up,” she said quietly, folding her hands under her cheek, “and imagine Noah was lying across from me. It doesn’t . . . scare me. I mean, I know it should, but . . . well, it keeps me awake sometimes, too. I don’t tell Max or Michael because I don’t want them to worry, but – well, I’m just trying to say that you’re not the only one who has nightmares.”

               Isobel scoffed at her own words, a sudden lump in her throat at the memory. Was this the building anxiety in her mind taking form? “He was a monster, and I can’t even hate him like I’m supposed to. You must think I’m pathetic.”

               Alex had been lying on his side, facing her, one fist against his chest, the other lying between them. His eyes were soft when she dared meet them.

               “No, Isobel,” he said kindly. “I get not hating the monster you’re supposed to.”

               Isobel looked down. “Bet you thought you’d swapped bodies with a very put-together woman, huh?”

               Alex huffed a quiet chuckle. “Bet you thought you’d swapped with a very strong captain.”

               Studying his face, his calm demeanor even when she knew he was scared and tired, his courage even when she knew he couldn’t really feel it, Isobel shrugged a shoulder.

               “I don’t think I was far off,” she shrugged.

               Alex smiled. It was weird, to see her own face smiling back at her, but have it feel like Alex’s. He whispered, “Neither do I.”

               Isobel blushed. Not knowing what else to say and still wanting to say something, she huffed. “Well, now w-w-what?” she stifled a yawn. “Do you usually just stay awake and wait for morning?”

               “Usually,” he said, “I’ll go to the kitchen. Make a cup of coffee, get some work done.”

               “You’re kidding,” she said a little too loudly, and covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide as Michael and Kyle stirred for several seconds and then fell asleep again. “Alex, please, I’m so tired, if I have to look at files and secret encryptions right now, I’ll cry.”

               Alex’s shoulders shook with silent laughter as he turned his face into the pillow to smother the sound. “I’m not going anywhere, Is, I’m too awkward on two working legs.”

               Isobel shook her head. “Do you really feel weird about it? I would’ve thought you’d be happy.”

               “Like I said,” Alex teased, “I’m used to a lot of things.”

               She pursed her lips, thinking. “What about Michael?”

               Alex’s eyes softened at the mention of Michael’s name. She could feel her heart hammering, the warmth overwhelming any fear or darkness. Did Alex really love him this much? It was a marvel.

               “What about him?” was all he said in response.

               “Don’t you ever – I don’t know – wake him up with you or something?”

               Alex frowned. “Why would I do that?”

               “To have someone to stay awake with.”

               “Nah,” Alex huffed a chuckle. “I can’t do that to him. He needs sleep.”

               “So . . . you really just spend all this time by yourself?”

               Isobel had been willing to wake Alex up just to have someone to talk to. How alone must he have felt almost every night, during these hours, when there was no one to talk to him?

               He covered her hand with his own. “This all seems like a lot to handle,” he told her softly, “but I promise I’m okay. I’ve been getting this stuff a little bit at a time since I’ve been twelve. You’re getting it all at once. It’s not as bad as you think it is.”

               “It’s not good either,” Isobel said through grit teeth, her frustration mounting. “You – you’re Michael’s entire world, Alex, you deserve better than this.”

               Alex studied Isobel’s expression and shook his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You and your brother. For some reason, you seem to think I’m made of glass.”

               Isobel opened her mouth to argue again when she felt a sharp longing pierce her heart, and suddenly, she knew why Alex really couldn’t get back to sleep. Why he was unwilling to leave the room like usual.

               “You miss Michael,” she breathed, eyes searching.

               Alex faltered, and swallowed. He lifted his head enough to look down at Michael laid out on the floor in a pile of blankets, face turned toward the bed, hand stretched toward Alex, like even in his sleep, he was reaching for him.

               Alex bit his lower lip and lowered his head back onto the pillow, unwilling to look at Isobel or answer.

               Isobel’s shoulders deflated. She had no idea how to talk to Alex, how to make him feel better in a way Michael clearly did, how to treat someone wounded who didn’t think he needed to be treated.

               What would Michael do? she thought, considering Alex and wondering whether he even knew what he wanted, aside from Michael here on the bed next to him instead of Isobel.

               Clenching her jaw, Isobel made up her mind. She closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around Alex’s shoulders and pulling him in against her.

               She felt Alex’s fist curl against her chest, and she hugged him tighter. If she’d thought it was weird to be sharing a bed with Alex Manes, holding him like he was the damsel in distress, like he was some softie instead of a captain that could kill with one stroke, was infinitely weirder.

               “Isobel?”

               “Whenever I’d wake up because of Noah,” she whispered, “I’d go to Max’s. He’d hug me like this, and he’d tell me that he’d protect me while I slept, that nothing would get me while he was there. I’m tough, Alex, I know I am, but everyone needs protection every once in a while, so . . .” She hugged him tighter. “Go to sleep, Alex. I’ll protect you. Nothing will get you while I’m here.”

               Alex laid very still in her hold for a long few minutes, then, just when she started to think that she’d seriously miscalculated, he melted in her arms, and slowly hugged her waist.

               A moment of silence, then, “Michael will kill you in the morning, you know.”

               Isobel smiled, and pressed her cheek to the top of Alex’s head. “Please. I’m doing his job for him. He’ll thank me.”

                 Michael definitely did not seem to be in a very grateful mood the next morning, waking Isobel with a none-too-gentle shove to her shoulder.

               She opened her eyes, startled, and Michael sat at the edge of the bed, smirking tightly. “Sleep okay?”

               Isobel was squinting. She couldn’t remember the last time sleep had claimed her so heavily.

               “The true answer would be yes, but that feels like a trap.”

               “Cute,” he said, then tilted his head at a still-sleeping Alex. “You wanna let go of him now?”

               Isobel looked down at the peaceful Isobel-looking Alex in her arms, fists curled against his lips and breathing deeply, seeming for the first time since they’d switched – maybe even before then – at peace. She’d done that. She’d helped Alex Manes sleep.

               Proud of herself, Isobel hugged him more tightly. “Nope, I’m good, thanks.”

               Michael shook his head and looked to the ceiling. “Isobel –”

               “You ever seen him sleep through a conversation before?” she said, and Michael faltered. “He’s tired, just give him a minute.”

               Kyle was still sleeping. Michael was awake in the bright morning light that poured through the windows, staring at Alex, lips pursed.

               “You felt it, didn’t you?” he said quietly.

               Isobel opened her eyes. She felt a lot of things from Alex, more than she’d ever expected to. Yet she still asked, “Felt what?”

               Michael was still staring at Alex as he said, “How lonely he gets.”

               Isobel swallowed, and hugged Alex tighter. “All this time,” she said, “I always thought Alex just . . . didn’t feel anything . . . that nothing could hurt him.” She shook her head and looked up at her brother, brows furrowed. “Were we just ignoring it?” she whispered. “All these years, were we just ignoring it?”

               Michael sighed and put a hand in her hair. “Don’t feel bad, Is. You’re not the one he was always begging to pay attention.” Looking away from Alex, Michael rubbed his jaw, and stood. “Come on, up, let him sleep. We’re heading to the Pony right after breakfast. The sooner we get you guys back in your bodies, the better.”

               *

               Michael couldn’t get over it. He couldn’t stand watching his Alex separated into two people, his mind one place, his body in another. As Isobel and Alex changed into their clothes and came out for breakfast, Michael was all too aware of Isobel leaning against Kyle to help keep her steady on the prosthetic, and the way Alex hooked his thumbs into his back pockets, pretending not to lean his weight on his left leg or be too disturbed that his right was still there.

               Alex came around the counter with a soft, “Hey,” probably to kiss him, but seemed to remember not to at the last second. Michael settled with a kiss to the side of Alex’s head, and while he was fond of his sister’s faint perfume because it reminded him of her, he found himself yearning for Alex’s natural vanilla scent.

               “Where’s Max?” Kyle asked, looking around at the couch where Max had decided to sleep last night.

               “He’s getting a head start with Maria,” Michael said. “Checking in to see if she got any new info from her mom.”

               “And?”

               “He said he’ll call me if they find something,” he shrugged. “Until then, breakfast. Sit, Private.”

               “Can you even call me that right now?” Alex said, rubbing his face. “I’m not a Private in this body, I’m not military, I don’t think I’m even human.”

               Isobel gasped. “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, I didn’t even think of that!”

               “Is that possible?” Kyle said, looking between Alex and Isobel. “That your minds are adapting to a whole new biology, would you even survive it?”

               “Could you not put that thought out there?” Michael heaved, pinched the bridge of his nose, and looked up to see Alex’s concerned expression. He held a hand out, and Alex took it and squeezed.

               “I was joking,” Alex defended weakly, “but . . . now that I think about it . . . maybe? I mean, Isobel, your powers depend on your mind, don’t they? They would’ve had to transfer over.”

               “Yeah, but biology does make a difference,” Isobel said, uncertain. “Otherwise, any human that focused hard enough could use a mindscape.”

               Alex looked at Isobel like she was crazy. “Uh – yeah, no, thanks, I’m good. No offense, but my list of concerns is long enough without out of control powers to top it off, so until proven otherwise, you’re the one with the alien abilities. At least you know how to work them.”

               She straightened in her seat eagerly. “I could teach you!”

               “No!” Michael snapped. “Isobel, we have to switch you back as soon as possible, we don’t have time for the training montage! If I didn’t know Mimi was somewhat coherent in the morning, we’d already be there! Now go ahead and eat, and then we’re heading out.”

               “I’m not really hungry,” Alex said with his hands over his stomach, grimacing. “I feel like I’m gonna be sick.”

               Isobel winced. “Yeah, that’s – uh – that’s my fault. My body’s used to hard runs in the morning. If I change routine, it rebels.”

               “Well, it’ll have to settle for a temporary truce,” Alex argued. “I haven’t run since I had a right leg.”

               “Then this could be your chance!” she perked up again. “Use the legs while you got ‘em, I don’t mind!”

               “No,” Alex said quietly. Michael’s eyes lingered on him.

               “No, seriously,” Isobel insisted. “I bet you’re tired of having just the one, it’s okay if you want to –”

               “Is,” Michael cut her off. “Stop it.”

               “Why?” she demanded. “Michael, he wants to use his legs –”

               “No, Isobel,” Alex said, “I don’t.” He exhaled shakily. “You know how some people would do anything to get one minute without their disability? Well, I’m not one of those people. It took so long to get used to one leg. I don’t want to pretend I have two, and then have to get used to it all over again, okay?”

               Michael didn’t like how pale Alex looked, how sick he seemed. Was that just Isobel’s body rebelling, or was his consciousness getting a little too cozy in there? Looking at Isobel again, he saw the paleness in her. The longer they waited, the more they risked being unable to switch them back. None of them could take that risk.

               Michael came around the counter, and took Alex’s arm. “If you’re not eating, then we’ve gotta go. Come on.”

                 On the drive to the Pony, Alex kept rubbing his temples like he had a headache, wincing and pretending not to whenever Michael looked over at him. Michael brushed his hand with the back of his own, and Alex squeezed his fingers.

               “I’m fine,” Alex told him before he pressed his lips together in an unconvincing smile. “Don’t worry.”

               Isobel sat in the back seat with Kyle, her head on his shoulder. Again, a jealousy stirred in the pit of Michael’s gut at the sight of his Alex so close to Kyle. He just wished he could hear Alex telling him, with his own voice, that he was okay.

               “I can’t wait till this is over,” Michael muttered, and Alex sighed.

               “Me, too.”

               “I’m sorry,” Michael shook his head. “I know this is way worse for you.”

               “I don’t know,” Alex shrugged a shoulder, his lips quirking. “Isobel smells really nice.”

               “Aww,” Isobel smiled in the backseat, eyes bright. “Thanks, Alex.”

               Alex chuckled under his breath and broke off with a soft hiss, pinching the bridge of his nose.

               Michael stuck his tongue into his cheek, eyes narrowed. “Hey, Is,” he said, glancing at the rearview mirror. “You getting headaches, too?”

               Alex’s shoulders slumped. “Guerin –”

               “Alex, you’re not fine,” Michael said with barely contained edge. “Is?”

               “N-No,” Isobel said, startled, sitting up. She looked like she was considering something, then, “Actually, it’s a little weird. I usually do get headaches, but they’re gone now.”

               Michael and Alex shared a look, and Michael could tell that Alex was thinking the same thing he was; his and Isobel’s minds were getting a little too used to the bodies they were in.

               “You know what I just realized?” Isobel said idly, holding up her arms. “Alex is buff.”

               “Oh wow,” said Kyle.

               “I know, right?” said Isobel, clearly misunderstanding Kyle’s blushing. “Like, what do you do, Alex? Cardio? Weights? You look good.”

               “Isobel,” Michael said through gritted teeth. “Don’t even think about it.”

               “Think about what?” she scoffed. “Oh, right, I forgot, you’re insanely insecure about your own relationship.”

               “I am not –”

               “You should be proud,” Isobel said. “I’m complimenting your boyfriend, right, Alex? Alex?”

               But Alex wasn’t listening. He had both hands pressed to his temples now, eyes shut tight, his expression pained.

               Michael pulled the truck over at once. “Alex?” he breathed, reaching over to Alex and pulling his hand back. He was sweating through his clothes. “Baby, hey,” he tried again, gripping Alex’s shoulders, “talk to me.”

               Alex was heaving. “I’m – I’m gonna be sick.”

               “Out the way, out of the way,” Kyle said in a hurried, but calm and steady voice as he got out of the truck and hurried around to Alex’s side. He opened the door and helped him out, one arm around his waist. “C’mon, I’ve got you, c’mon.”

               Alex was turning into Kyle’s chest, as if trying to smush his face and direct the pain somewhere other than his head.

               “Alex,” Michael tried, reaching for his shoulder, but Alex flinched away from him.

               “Don’t,” he breathed, “don’t touch me, Guerin, I mean it!”

               Michael recoiled, surprised and hurt.

               “A-Alex –”

               “Hold on,” Isobel said, coming up to him, “maybe I can help.”

               She pulled Alex away from Kyle, and Alex pressed his face instead into her arm, his jaw clenched. “I can’t –”

               “I know,” Isobel said, jaw clenched. “I can feel it. Just let go, Alex. Let it go.”

               Alex did as Isobel told him and let go. He screamed, and at once, an invisible force pushed everyone backwards, including a good amount of sand, leaving Isobel and Alex standing in a kind of crater.

               Kyle coughed at the hit to his chest and Michael stood staring at Alex in Isobel’s arms. She was holding on tight like she had known what was coming.

               Then Alex slumped against Isobel.

               “Alex,” Michael breathed and ran to him. “Alex, hey.” He took Alex’s slumped and weary figure into his arms, kissing the top of his head. “Hey, you’re okay. You’re okay.”

               Alex wearily took Michael’s arm in his and hugged it tight. “I’m – I’m sorry –”

               “Don’t you dare,” Michael murmured against the top of his head. “I know you were just worried about hurting me, it’s okay.”

               Alex shook his head and turned to look at Isobel. “What . . . what was that?”

               “Telekinetic energy,” Isobel said grimly. “I had those migraines too, in the beginning, when I had no idea what they were and my powers would go haywire for no reason.”

               “So Alex has your powers now?” Kyle said, looking between them. “Isobel, try using them yourself, see what happens.”

               Isobel swallowed. “I can’t.”

               “Is,” Michael said, “just try.”

               “No, I mean,” she shut her eyes. “I already did. I’m trying now. I . . . I can’t.” She knelt down in front of Alex. “Congrats, Manes,” she said very grimly, “looks like you’re the alien now.”

               *

               Alex had never been too sure about anything in his life, but he’d been certain of three things; the first was that he loved Michael Guerin more than he could love anything or anyone else, especially himself; the second was that he would do anything it took to protect Michael from any kind of harm; the third was that as in awe as he could be of Michael’s powers, he was glad not to have them. He’d always felt enough like an outsider without needing to be an alien, too.

               So, needless to say, this new arrangement left him a little more than unsettled.

               “Okay,” Isobel said as Michael helped Alex to his feet. “I wanna switch back now please.”

               “You and me both,” Alex murmured, rubbing his temple lightly. At least his headache was gone. “Thanks, Isobel.”

               Isobel blinked, like she wasn’t used to being thanked, and she swallowed, nodding, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I mean, duh,” she gave a little laugh.

               “Okay,” Alex said, eyes shut as he thought hard. “Okay, just . . . let’s get to the Pony.”

               “Whoa,” Kyle held up his hands. “Alex, you just found out you have Isobel’s powers. I think you’re warranted a breather for another minute.”

               “Valenti’s right,” Michael sighed, looking very unhappy with having to say it. “Alex, you need to sit down, get something to eat, maybe just take a second to process –”

               “Process what, Guerin?” Alex said wearily. “We’re changing back, there’s nothing to process.”

               But they didn’t understand. They didn’t see the worry in Isobel’s eyes, that look like she’d lost something as valuable as a limb. Alex knew that look too well. He’d recognized it from the mirror. Michael and Kyle were saying something else, but Alex shook his head.

               “Know what we’re not going to do?” he said, gently letting go of Michael. “We’re not going to talk about this like it’s permanent. We go to the Pony, we talk to Maria, touch the necklace, and be done with it. We’re getting this over with now, so get in the truck.”

               “Alex –”

               “Truck, Guerin,” Alex said sternly. He patted Isobel’s shoulder, nudging her along. She blinked, like waking abruptly from her thoughts, and Alex tried to reassure her just with a silent gaze. She swallowed and nodded once, the first to follow him back to the truck.

               *

               Isobel had never really known much of Alex, not for any particular reason. She’d always thought she’d known enough that would be typical for a girl to know of her brother’s boyfriend. Besides, who didn’t know the famous Manes men? Girls would swoon at the sight of them, guys wanted to either be them or be their friends, and they had enough of a mysterious air about them that made them just fascinating enough for Isobel to keep on her radar.

               She’d never mentioned this to Michael, but it had come as a bit of a shock when the man he’d been so desperately in love with had turned out to be none other than the most beautiful and untouchable of the Manes brothers. Isobel had glared at every idiot in high school who’d gone around laughing and gossiping about Alex’s sexuality, but after years of not finding a single woman who had so much been kissed by Alex, she had to confess the signs were there.

               And then there was the way her brother would always get when he was just mentioned. The way he’d look down and despite the pain in his eyes, be unable to help but smile. The way his cheeks would turn red and he’d get so quiet after that. The way every time Alex was at the bar or the diner, Michael was somehow there, like he was following him without being able to help himself.

               So Isobel had wanted to be supportive. When Michael told her that it was too hard to love Alex, Isobel kept her thoughts to herself, and when Michael wanted to date Maria, she’d kept her mouth shut, because all that mattered to her was Michael’s feelings. She hadn’t considered what it would do to Alex, the gnawing doubts he would always have in the back of his mind that now gnawed at the back of hers.

               She never considered the self-loathing, the fear that if he showed any sign of weakness or anxiety or depression, that Michael would leave him again. She never considered the courage he’d have to muster, so much so that it seemed he never had to struggle with any shortage of it at all.

               She considered it now. She knew Alex was just as scared as her, because where she’d lost too many parts of herself, Alex had gained too many parts of somebody else. Where Isobel felt like she was starving, Alex felt like he was drowning. She knew that, because she could feel an echo of it in herself, and she knew it wasn’t hers.

               Isobel had never known much about Alex, but she found herself now, as they stepped out of Michael’s truck, reaching for his arm to cling to. Despite Kyle right beside her and Michael right next to Alex, Alex squeezed Isobel’s hand on his arm as if in silent understanding. They’d entered something together here, and they would see it finished together.

               The Wild Pony was quiet, the chairs upturned on desks, dust motes dancing in the pale sunlight streaming in through the windows. And there at the bar with Maria and Mimi was Max, his arms crossed, the three of them looking grim as something small and silver sat on the counter between them.

               Mimi tilted her head at them, and smiled at Alex. She came around the bar, her arms raised.

               “Alex!” she said in that soft ringing voice of hers. “Come here, sweetheart.”

               Alex let her pull him into a hug, forcing Isobel to let go. “Anything?” Alex asked as soon as he was released.

               Mimi’s big eyes went to Isobel and she nudged her chin at the bar. “Sit down, dear. You look exhausted.”

               Isobel took the seat closest to Alex, their thighs touching and his arm in her grasp the only thing helping to calm her racing heart.

               “Max?” she said, and Max glanced at her warily. Clearly, whatever news they had wasn’t good.

               “We’ve made some headway,” Maria was quick to reassure. “We – uh – well, we figured out why it was glowing.”

               “Okay?” Kyle prompted.

               “Simply put,” Maria chuckled weakly, “this is . . . completely my fault.”

               Isobel looked to Alex, expecting him to look as shocked as the rest of them, but Alex’s lips were pursed, eyes narrowed, like this didn’t particularly surprise him.

               “How?” he said.

               Maria looked to her mother who explained, “You know that the flower is meant to be a protective charm, right? It’s supposed to ward off alien powers, even keep them under control. The problem is that it’s a small charm and Maria’s powers had grown too strong for it. So the charm fed on her emotions and became just as jumbled up.”

               “And what does that have to do with Alex and Isobel?” Michael said.

               “Because Maria’s biggest emotionally complicated connections are to two people,” Max sighed. “Take a wild guess who.”

               “What,” Isobel blinked, “me? Why me?”

               “And why Alex?” Michael defended. “Wouldn’t it make more sense for me to be the one you have a problem with?”

               At the mention of this, Isobel could’ve sworn she felt Alex flinch, but when she looked to him, he seemed perfectly solemn, so she assumed she must’ve imagined it.

               But no, she thought. I’m sure of it. He flinched.

               “I mean,” Michael went on, “I’m the one you dumped.”

               Alex flinched again. Now Isobel understood.

               “Michael,” Isobel said through grit teeth, “shut up.”

               Michael looked startled at the edge in her voice, but he glanced at Alex and swallowed, taking his other hand.

               “Look,” Maria said uncomfortably, rubbing the nape of her neck. “It’s not like I’m angry at anybody or anything, they’re not bad feelings –”

               They should be, Isobel almost said but managed to stop herself just as she opened her mouth. The desire to say them was so strong that Isobel found herself wanting to say them and hating that she couldn’t. Then she realized they weren’t her words. They were Alex’s.

               When she looked to Alex, she saw he was staring at his fists, lips pursed and brows pinched. Slowly, she put her head on his shoulder, which he seemed to hardly notice, and closed her eyes, trying to look for the memory behind this powerful emotion he had.

               She didn’t have to look hard.

               It seemed like Alex had had these dark thoughts at the forefront of his mind for a while because it was like they’d been begging to be found. Right away, Isobel saw what was driving Alex’s mind to distraction and pain.

               She saw Michael telling him he liked Maria outside his house. . . . Michael turning away from him. . . . Michael’s cruel words. . . . Michael’s kind smile to Maria. . . . Maria’s promises. . . .

               Isobel’s eyes opened and she felt them prickling as she sat up. She felt how much trust Alex had had in Maria, in her promises that she would never do anything with Michael because she would know how much it would kill him, then the way she’d broken his heart, the way she and Liz had discussed him and Michael, the way they’d chosen each other and Michael had chosen Maria and no one had chosen Alex . . .

               She felt a tear roll down her cheek as she stared at Alex, despite the anger bubbling just below the surface of her skin.

               Maria was still talking, something about how Isobel was her family who she didn’t really know much about, when Isobel whipped around to glare at her. “What did you do to Alex?” she demanded. Then turned on Michael, “And why didn’t you protect him?!”

               An awkward silence fell. Everyone was staring at Isobel, Maria startled and Michael looked . . . scared. Like he’d expected to hear these words from Alex’s mouth for a long time and always feared them.

               Alex looked up at her, eyes wide and brows furrowed. “Isobel . . .”

               “Don’t, Alex,” she breathed, appalled. “Don’t you dare defend them.” She looked back to Maria. “He trusted you, he trusted you, how could you do that to him?”

               Maria shook her head. She seemed to need no help understanding what it was that angered Isobel. “I didn’t – Isobel, you don’t know what happened, we talked about –”

               “No, you talked, and you gave him an ultimatum!” Isobel snapped. “At least he expected evil from his dad!”

               “Isobel,” Alex said quietly, “stop it.” His voice was calm, but it brought on a heavier silence and tension than Isobel’s screams ever could.

               She took his sleeve. “But Alex –”

               “Stop,” he repeated, her own searing blue eyes staring back at her and still feeling like Alex’s. Alex shifted in his seat, elbows on the bar, fingers interlocked and pressed to the bridge of his nose. His eyes were shut tight, and Isobel could practically hear the gears in his head turning.

               Michael was watching Alex as if awaiting a final judgement and Maria was looking at Isobel, hurt and betrayed at her outburst, but where was the remorse? Didn’t she care about what she’d done to Alex? Didn’t that hurt her more? She’d taken Michael from him. She’d taken Michael.

               Amidst their group, Isobel had always known better than to assume everyone else could sense the heated feelings connecting Michael and Alex the way she could, but she’d been wrong. Maria had sensed it. Even if she hadn’t, she’d known. And maybe, if Isobel was being really honest with herself, she’d known that, but she hadn’t wanted to think about it too much. She loved Michael, she cared about Maria, who was she to worry about Alex Manes?

               But feeling a mere echo of what he’d felt, how hurt he’d been, and how hard he’d fought to keep Michael anyway . . . well, Isobel had always been a romantic, and she didn’t think there was anyone in the world more romantic than Alex Manes right now.

               “That’s . . . that’s why you’re still bottling it all up,” Isobel murmured, eyes narrowed. “You think you’ll be too much for him again.”

               “Isobel!” Alex snapped, but he couldn’t hide the pain in his eyes. The ache in his voice.

               Michael looked eagerly between them like he’d been waiting for an explosion directed at him. “For who?” he demanded, his voice shaking, though it seemed he’d been waiting for this conversation for a long time. “For who, Alex? Me?”

               “Stop it, we’re not talking about this here,” Alex tried, looking away from him.

               “Why not?” he demanded. “DeLuca said so herself, it’s all jumbled up feelings about the two of you that got you into this, so let’s air it all out, right now.”

               “No,” Alex said through gritted teeth. Had Michael, like Isobel, noticed the tremble in his voice?

               Michael was ruthless. “You think that if you tell me how you feel, that I’ll leave you?”

               “You already did!” he snapped, and Michael looked like he’d been shot. Alex turned to face him. “You want to know why we don’t talk about this, Michael? You think I can’t? I don’t want to! And you want to know why? Because I know that if I seriously thought about everything you did, everything you both did, everything you made me feel, the way you still scare me sometimes, then all I’ll want to do is pack my things and leave Roswell and never come back!”

               Alex huffed, his voice quiet. “Because if I thought about it, Guerin, if I let myself feel it, then I don’t think I’d ever be able to forgive you.”

               Michael stared, expression unreadable. Max was rubbing his jaw, Kyle was turning idly on his stool, lips pursed like none of this came as any kind of shock. Mimi was watching Alex with a soft smile, like she knew it was her daughter who was included in this rant, but was still proud to see Alex let out his anger. Isobel . . . Isobel was leaning towards Alex. She had no idea why . . . maybe she felt like he was going to fall and she wanted someone to catch him.

               Guilt had finally seeped into Maria’s expression and she huffed a small, nervous chuckle. “A-Alex . . . I – I asked you –”

               “Maria,” Alex growled, turning his sharp gaze on her. “I love you, but for once in your life, take some goddamn responsibility for your choices.” His words turned breathless at the end, and Isobel could tell the misery in him was warring with his anger, not knowing which to stand at the forefront. “There is a difference between being selfish and being heartless. You’re smarter than to believe you did nothing wrong, and you’re a lot kinder than to pretend you don’t know that.”

               To this, Maria had nothing to say.

               Michael clenched his jaw, reached up to touch Alex’s cheek, then stopped, every muscle in his body and face pulsing, like he wanted more than anything to feel his boyfriend against him, to comfort him, and it was killing him that he couldn’t.

               So instead, he said in a low growl that trembled and promised at the same time, “What I want to say to you . . . I’m not saying to you like this.” He turned to Maria. “Whatever you need to figure out or do, do it. I want my boyfriend back.” He looked back to Alex. “And then I’m gonna talk to you, and you’re gonna listen to me.”

               Alex’s jaw was clenched, but as he held Michael’s gaze, his own turned glassy. Still, he wouldn’t let a single tear fall. He nodded once, stiffly, his brows still pinched with what Isobel now recognized as hope. Alex wanted Michael to reassure him, to fix this ache inside of him.

               Michael took his hand, gripping tightly enough to bruise, and Alex, exhausted at having shown so much emotion, slumped. Isobel caught him against her and hugged his shoulders.

               “I’m sorry,” she murmured against his hair. “I had to, Alex.”

               “Why do you care, Isobel?” Alex murmured quietly enough that Michael, who was fiercely arguing with Maria now, wouldn’t hear. “You don’t even really know me. Why are you fighting so hard for me?”

               Isobel hugged him tighter. “Because you have to know you’re worth it.”

               *

               “Isobel, come on,” Max held out a hand to Isobel as the rest of them stood against the opposite wall. “If we’re going to try to use our powers to light this necklace up, we all need to be touching it.”

               “Hey,” Kyle touched her back, “it’s going to be fine.”

               Isobel shot him a grateful smile, and went up to her brothers while Alex, Kyle, and Mimi stood back.

               Maria stood on the opposite side of them behind the bar, glancing up at Isobel as she came. They hadn’t spoken since her outburst, but Maria no longer looked hurt so much as ashamed. Alex couldn’t say he felt the same for his outburst. He’d seen promise and reassurance in Michael’s gaze, and while he couldn’t say that he wasn’t anxious about what was to come, he still couldn’t help but feel like an immense weight had been taken off his chest.

               Maria��s admitted shame was better than denied guilt. At least now she had a clearer idea of how she felt and maybe that would help the necklace glow again.

               “You guys ready?” Maria asked, and reached out two fingers to touch the necklace.

               Michael, Isobel, and Max touched the glass, Alex half-expecting it to light up and switch Isobel and her brothers next. But a minute passed, then two, and . . . nothing was happening.

               None of them looked that surprise.

               “I mean,” Isobel shrugged a shoulder, a false lightness in her voice, “not like we didn’t kinda see this coming, you know? Alex, we need you.”

               Alex swallowed, his fingers tingling with what he was about to do. Michael held out an arm for him which he kept around Alex’s shoulders as Alex reached for the necklace. He checked over his shoulder and saw Kyle was muttering into Isobel’s hair. Alex knew she felt as empty without her powers as he suffocated with it.

               “You okay?” Max murmured as Alex exhaled shakily.

               “Yeah,” he said, and was surprised to find he actually meant it. “Yeah, m’fine.”

               Maria met his gaze slowly and looked away.

               “I’m right here,” Michael quietly told him. “Just stay close to me.”

               Alex swallowed and nodded. He knew they still had to talk, but he was grateful to have Michael here next to him, promising to stay at least for what was coming.

               Slowly, Alex reached out and touched the necklace alongside Michael and Max. He had no idea what he was supposed to do aside from wish really hard that the necklace would light up, and then feeling ridiculous for acting like a fairytale princess.

               But fairytale princesses must’ve been onto something because the necklace soon started to heat up under his fingers, and, right before his eyes, the necklace started to turn bright, the flower inside blossoming with vivid color.

               “Oh my god,” Max breathed.

               “It’s working!” Maria gasped.

               “Isobel!” Alex called over his shoulder. “Quick!”

               Isobel was at his side in an instant, eyes wide and both anxious and hopeful. “I’m here I’m here I’m here! Michael, move!”

               Max, Michael, and Maria stepped back and let go of the necklace just as Isobel surged forward. The second her fingers touched the glass alongside Alex’s, the necklace glowed even brighter, turning almost unbearably hot under their fingers. Alex didn’t remember this happening the last time and didn’t know whether or not to be reassured by what it meant.

                Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Michael staring intently, Max crossing his arms tightly, Kyle looking anxiously between Alex and Isobel, Maria’s hands folded as she muttered something under her breath, and Mimi watching as if she were watching a particularly interesting play.

               Alex was preparing to be blasted back, to lose consciousness, to blink and find himself back in his own body. Isobel braced herself, seeming to prepare for the same thing. The glass grew hotter, hotter, hotter, then –

               Nothing. The heat cooled in an instant, the light dimmed, and Alex and Isobel stood there, feeling no different. That was a lie. Alex knew he wasn’t the only one who felt severely weighed down by a crushed hope.

               They stood there for a long few seconds before Kyle took a step towards Alex, his expression uncertain. “Is?”

               Alex swallowed and shook his head. His disappointment must’ve been evident because Michael clenched his jaw and pushed a hand through his curls. He shut his eyes a split second, and shelves of glass shattered, eliciting yelps from Isobel and Maria.

               He exhaled slowly, and looked to Alex. “You’ll change back,” he said. “You will. You’ll change back, don’t worry.”

               Alex wanted to be reassuring and strong, but all he could do was nod. He looked to Isobel and found her eyes were wide and scared. Kyle was already reaching a hand towards her, but he seemed to hesitate as Max stepped up too, and Isobel clung to her twin’s hand like a lifeline.

               “I – I don’t know why . . .” Maria shook her head, looking between them, lost and apologetic. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why it didn’t work this time.”

               “We’ll figure it out,” Kyle assured them. “We’ll figure it out, we just need more time.”

               Isobel and Alex met each other’s gazes then, and Alex knew they were both thinking the same thing.

               Time was the one thing they really didn’t have.

***

I just came back from seeing Morbius, and wow, what a pretty man. Anyway. I want to write about gay vampires now.

[andraaste]

I am not your enemy - Lance fanfiction part 14

And finally, it’s doooone ! Forgive me for the wait 💕

Chapter 14 : I just stopped hoping for your awakening

- Andraste, is everything okay ? Nevra asked, somewhat surprised at my sudden reaction.

I was about to tell him that it was none of his business when the pain, much more throbbing, resumed again, literally cutting my breath. Without warning, panic started to take me over and it was with confusion that I stood up and dodged his piercing gaze as he remained leaning over me, being too ashamed to tell him everything that was wrong with me.

The vampire still maintained the idea of ​​helping me to stand up completely and, when his hand finally let go of my shoulder, I immediately stepped back in order to establish sufficient distance between us, which didn’t escape him.

- Yes, it's nothing, I finally replied, feigned levity.

Falling back into the void, his hand remained inert along his side as his mouth opened and closed again without any sound coming out.

A wind much colder than before I fell asleep began to blow between us, causing my hair to fly and goosebumps on my bare arms. In order to warm myself up, I put my hands on them as the chills that ran through my skin burned my back unpleasantly.

I think my head was starting to spin.

- Are you sure everything is fine ? Didn't you hurt yourself somewhere or anything ?

- No, don't worry, I replied quickly. I hadn't planned to doze off here, the ground was too hard and I must have hurt a bit, but nothing serious.

I especially didn't want Nevra to know what was happening to me, I didn't think I would be able to bear this shame again in the eyes of another person.

Much to my dismay, the vampire didn't seem convinced. He took a step in my direction, reducing the distance I had deliberately created. An eyebrow raised, his gaze fell on mine.

- Do you know that I still know you by heart ? I can see you're in pain, there's no point in trying to hide it from me.

I breathed out as much air as possible against my poor acting skills. He would never let go, I was sure.

We had left each other angry earlier, though, so why didn't he take his eyes off me right now ? I felt confused, I didn't know how to react.

What's more, I had to admit that I was seriously starting to wonder if constantly blowing hot and cold wasn’t an Eldaryan custom.

Or maybe I was drawn to complicated relationships, who knows.

- Really, it's my luck, I said ironically. So you decided that I existed in your eyes, today ?

His features imperceptibly hardened as his gaze darkened so quickly that I thought I was dreaming for a moment.

- Andraste...

- What Nevra ? Are you going to tell me to pretend nothing has happened ? I was starting to get carried away. It's all well and good to behave towards me as you see fit, but it doesn't work that way.

It was his turn to exhale for a long time. Coming even closer, he took me completely by surprise, lowering his head until he came to rest his forehead against my shoulder, his dark hair brushing my shoulder blade. I remained frozen in place, unable to make the slightest movement as his breath caressed my skin.

I could no longer get my ideas clear.

- Listen, I don't know how to behave when I see you anymore, he finally blurted out, his voice slightly muffled by his probably uncomfortable position. You were the center of my world and overnight I had to relearn how to evolve without you by my side. Everyone was only talking about your sacrifice, he almost spat, but all I wanted was for you to come back to me.

He slowly lifted his head from my shoulder and came back to fix his gaze on mine. I was hanging from his lips, totally mesmerized by the words he finally addressed to me.

- Every day, for a little over a year, I didn’t stop making this wish, however selfish. Sometimes I would spend hours watching you, convincing myself that at any moment you were going to wake up. Except that it never happened, he added quietly, as if saying it out loud could shatter the dreams of this memory of him. I ended up decreasing over time my visits to the Crystal Room, I could no longer distinguish a vague sleeping figure. So to protect myself, I think I just stopped hoping for you to wake up.

The emotion Nevra was feeling at that moment overwhelmed me. I suspected that he must have suffered from this situation, but given his behavior towards me since I woke up, I had difficulty in realizing how he felt. On the other hand, I hadn’t imagined for a single second that it could still affect him at this point now.

- I didn't know all this, Nevra, you never told me about it until now. I never imagined you could feel this, I'm so sorry...

A wistful smile appeared on his lips.

- It's in the past now, even if I don't hide from you that I thought I had serious hallucinations when I saw you again.

Following these words, the vampire leaned down until his face was only inches from mine, allowing me to admire his scarred gaze under his thick black hair.

- I was a complete idiot to you, Andraste. I only took my feelings into account regardless of yours, but it was the only way I found to protect myself again. I'm terribly sorry, you absolutely don’t deserve this indifference, he confessed to me while placing a light and icy hand on my cheek. I hope you will forgive me.

Nevra was standing close, way too close for my breathing to calm down. I swallowed the air with more and more difficulty and, seized by strong emotions, the currents of energy began to circulate again in anarchy under my skin.

The young man finally withdrew his hand before standing up to his full height. Looking up at the sky, he quickly returned to plant them in mine with deep attention.

- Night has almost fallen, we better get back to HQ, he said softly.

I nodded and turned in the direction of HQ when his hand grabbed my arm the same way it had several hours earlier.

I was taken aback to find that his face had suddenly closed completely, brows furrowed.

- You're bleeding, what's happening to you ?

I widened my eyes.

- What ?

- I can smell your blood, it's not normal, he explained to me while making me rotate back to him.

Instinctively, I slapped a hand on the small of my back as my fingers slid over the thick streaks of liquid that flowed against my top.

No.

Not now, it wasn’t possible.

Nevra only took a fraction of a second to react when he saw my fingers red with hemoglobin.

A strong concern marked the tone of his voice as he spoke again :

- What's the matter with your back ? You tell me that everything has been fine since earlier, and now you start to piss blood !

- It's nothing serious, I promise. I just have to go see Eweleïn, she'll know what to do.

I still had the words he'd had when he saw me come out of the infirmary, but I think I just had no choice but to have to go back.

- I'll take you there immediately.

Binding action to word, he grabbed me under the knees and lifted me off the ground to carry me in his arms. The journey was surprisingly short to the entrance of the large building of the HQ while the abundant loss of blood finally got the better of my lucidity.

When they reached the door of the infirmary, Nevra began to pound forcefully on the door. It opened wide, revealing an Eweleïn with suddenly astonished features.

- Nevra, what happened to her ?

The vampire quickly explained the facts to her as he laid me down on the bed. The ground was turning dangerously, or maybe it was just my head that couldn't follow.

- Turn around, the nurse ordered him with authority, before leaning over me. Andraste, we're going to have to take this garment off.

I let her withdraw my sticky top without flinching before falling into a deep sleep.

*

I blinked several times in an attempt to focus, only seeing blurry elements around me. It was far from the first time I had woken up in this bed in the past few days and it made my lips pursed in frustration.

How did I end up in the infirmary again ?

Head heavy, I struggled to sit up on the soft mattress, looking for any sign of life in the room. But no one seemed to be standing here. Swallowing my saliva with difficulty, I realized that my throat was so dry that no sound could have come out anyway immediately, I felt like I had swallowed razor blades.

Feeling obstructed, I lifted my top and found a large bandage wrapped around my chest, with red spots marking the fabric as far as I could see. I was really hoping that my miraculous healing system had reactivated, like the time my stomach wound closed on its own in a very short time, because I wasn’t going to put up with this situation much longer. Moving slightly, I noticed that the pain had practically disappeared. I lowered the garment over my wounds then stood up slowly. The world was still spinning a little too fast for my liking, but I felt fit to get out of here.

I was finishing putting on my shoes when the door finally opened, revealing a long white hair in my field of vision.

- Oh hello Andraste, you're finally awake. How do you feel ? the elf asked with a soft smile.

- Hello Ewe, I think I’m okay. I’m not feeling at my best, but I’m no longer in pain.

- Perfect, I'll give you a quick test but I think you're fit to go out.

Sitting back on the bed, I let the nurse auscultate me without batting an eyelid.

- Your back is much better, even your skin has started to reform normally. I hope this story of stuck wings will get better soon.

- Oh reassure you, I hope so too, I said in a mirthless laugh. Can I go, now ?

- Yes, just a second.

She grabbed the same jar of cream as the last time and handed it to me, a smile on her lips.

- Here, you’ll have to brush your back with this until your skin is better.

- Very good, but it may be rather complicated, since it’s not an area necessarily accessible for me...

I saw Eweleïn's smile widen even more.

- Oh, I understood that someone could take care of it for you, but if it doesn't, you just have to come see me and I'll take care of it.

I narrowed my eyes at her suspicious expression.

- What are you talking about ?

- Nothing at all, and hurry up to see me if it starts again, don't wait any longer to bleed ! Come on, go, she ordered me with a wink.

Too tired to try to understand, I opened the door to rush into the hallway. But how long had I slept, exactly ? It was still dark !

Entering the guard corridor, I walked past several doors until I reached Lance's room, just before mine. I paused for a moment, hesitating, observing thoughtfully the image of the dragon towering over it at full length. Was he busy, right now ?

Heart pounding, I was about to knock when my arm caught in the air.

I didn't have to turn around to see who it was, letting myself be completely taken in by his mere presence.

- Good evening, my little dragon, his voice whispered with an amused grin.

Light streaks of ice were already drawing a multitude of abstract shapes on my skin as my lips stretched on their own.

Giving way to a huge smile on my face.

(Chapter 15)

[aeempress]

Apritello Express Evidences, part 1

Greetings, Apritello enthusiasts and attention! Here comes a loong post is written by totally nerd. You've been warned. Here we go.

The thing is that Apritello is a double-edged sword. The series shows us established friendship of these two, give us a lot of content with them. We can see development of relationship through interaction between the characters, their reaction about the situations they are put in. We can sense their synergy and bound through the show.

Donnie and April have incredible chemistry, and both options, brotp and otp seems fine to me.

But let me tell you why I ship them.

Apritello is the kind of pairings, which consists of small details, hints, that's hidden, but if you're sharp and attentive one, you will notice that. Apritello has a strong foundation: the best friends trope.

And from the very beginning, it works as planned.

When I start watching show, I could say that April and Donnie are best friends. It is worth noting that April is like an older sister to the other brothers, more of a sisterly figure than a friend, but with Donnie she behaves somewhat differently, namely, as best friend. Obviously, she sets him apart from his brothers, although girl tries to pay attention to all of them equally. And Donnie behaves as well.

Dee's battle shell designs for April needs as well as his. His shell transform into comfy spot for taking ride for April. Special and only for her. Because his bros are not supposed to use it (at least, he carries no one on his back), Donnie carries them by his techno-bó or his limbs.

This tiny detail shows his special treatment to her. April is a very, very special occasion to D. Don does care about her comfort, he accept the way she is. Donatello does not try to prevent her from participating in their affairs because he respects her decisions and is pleased that April can be shoulder to shoulder with him.

D is glad to be at her service.

Yeah, Dee's still playing cool, he has image to perform as tough and coolheaded guy. So Don doesn't show his intentions, interest and feeling to other people (he's tryin', but fails). Because his actions matter. They are always small, hidden, but meaningful.

April, in return, trusts Dee and depends on his tech, even knowing what his inventions are the opposite of success (usually).

Go on. Look at Donnie's facial expressions and body language when April is near.

Donnie seems more relaxed when she's around, happier. His emotional response is always different from his brothers ones.

Oh, and look, he wanted to be first to give her a high three.

They worry about each other. Look at Don. He does worry about her way more than his brothers. Yeah, they all want to protect her, but Donnie is more expressive.

Mayham has no particular sympathy for the brothers: he is afraid of Raph and behaves aggressively, he is indifferent to Leo and Mikey. Mayham immediately takes a liking to April. And then the details come back: he let Donnie touch his neck. The most vulnerable place for any living creation, for a second. Let him to study an important vial without any hesitation. Mayham depends on April trust for Donnie. When everything goes wrong for Don, the little doggie comes to his rescue, just as April would have done. Is the hint transparent enough?

We can see links with "A mystic library", wherе Donnie begins to look for solutions to save April's pet. Yes, this may seem like his next leap, "sit down, I'm smart, and now I'll solve all the problems, watch and learn," but Don says one phrase that opens up the veil of the second plan, what happens behind the scenes. "My illiteral colleagues and I was conducting a mustic research, with a life of the beloved pet, hanging in a bounce".

Strange wording, Donatello. Beloved pet? Not yours, as we can see. I can say, that everything in this sentence is true, but Donnie and Mayham has something more.

Continue. Next episode "Origami tsunami". Interactions are kept to a minimum, as April herself appears for a maximum of 5 minutes in the series itself. But devil is always in the details, dear friends.

When April was attacked and hung up, the only one who excitedly called out to her was Donny. Raph is furious that the thieves have escaped, Leo is frustrated that their plan has failed, and Mikey is worried about the salami.

Yeah, we didn't see his worries about her when she fell, because Donnie is on the mission and must be coolheaded turtle, and second, he's calm because now April life is safe and sound, out of the danger.

Dear passangers, Apritello Express arrives to the next station - episode "War and Pizza".

Bare facts:

1. April has Donnie's number on an emergency call.

2. "Anything for you"

3. Donnie is the reason why Alberto knows April's name.

No one calles April by her name (except for Donnie, while phone call, but Alberto wasn't nearby) it was "Captain O'Neil" by her chief, her badge seems blank. And yeah, you can say, that's just economy of budget, but I assure you: in the first episode we were shown the name of the delivery guy. The animators were not lazy bones and wrore "Stewart" on his badge. So if something isn't there, then it either shouldn't be there, or it really isn't, that's how this show works.

So, the reason explained in the episode. When Al has short circuit, parts of its new code flashed through its mind.

Info about April was in its memory, in its code. Alberto was a lame animatronic, and it seems somewhat outdated. I do really doubt about Alberto is being something smartass machine with complicated AI like Freddy's Pizza's ones. Quite questionable. Donatello fix Al's brain and wrote code, synchronize with his remote control. He put information about Cap O'Neil into animatronic's head. All this pictures are kind of massage: "You was created for birthday celebrations. You are machine, and there concepts of "life" and "birth". Do great party for this birthday kid and April won't be like this". Or, something like that.

So Alberto did - do a memorable party. And he do what his creator programmed him to do, but in his way.

4. In other words, Alberto was a tool to impress April. Don flaunts himself in front of her, stating how he did the upgrade while doing the upgrade, even though April is fully aware of his tech wizard. And his abilities supposed to help Cap O'Neil to finish the birthday party, so she will stay at her job, not fired. All thanks to Donnie and his upgrade Alberto. (Or not)

By the way, Donnie was the last to leave April in ruined "Alberto's". And it's not an isolated case, it is a pattern.

5. They understand each other without words.

First, Donny came at her at the speed of light. Second, she hadn't even finished speaking before Dee was taking Al apart. Third, their chaotic, well-coordinated work? Donnie was a distraction (although he wanted to just take a break from the battle or let Alberto's guard down, while April just knocked him out). Donnie and April are great team, and sometimes the DonniexApril team is much more precise, coordinated, and interdependent than the DonniexBrothers one.

D&A feel each other and anticipate each other's actions, their skills complement each other, creating an incredible synergy of their interaction. They act as a whole, while it's not always possible with his brothers, even though they're family and know each other the way more Donnie know April. And Dee hasn't trained with cap O'Neil.

Donatello didn't show his crush for April. No puppy, loving eyes, no lovey-dovey speeches, no planning schemes (at least, the audience don't see one) . He just want her attention, but stays cool and hidden. D is already her BFF, but still.

The same thing is claimed in 5B episode - Mascot Melee. Donnie has no problems with interaction with idol of his childhood - Atomic Lass. She'd put Leo in a stupor, but Donnie? He playfully challenges her to a dance duel. Yes, he adores this character, who may have become his measure of the attractiveness of others to Donatello, determined his type. But still, he's playing all cool and confident guy, he's really smooth with girls, so you will never see a puppy loving eyes from him. Only two things can betray him at this point: his voice and his body language. Remember, how's soft his voice became for Atomic Lass? Now I want you to remember the scene before, in turtle tank, when April sent guys a meme.

D is the first to respond to the message, despite the fact that Mikey is sitting closest to the screen. And the responding is a little too emotional for this situation, don't you think?

And this face of his. And he comments it. He likes her sense of humour.

The only difference between April and Atomic Lass is that the first one is a real girl who is a friend of their family, practically a member of it; and the other one is just a fictional character. It is easier to say about love for a fictional character, because it brings less problems for a teenager, especially when he is living with three brothers and a father who likes to tease as well. Donatello needs to be careful and outline the area of emotions he could show, so that he does not get hurt.

Now, dear passangers, we are returning to the previous episode, shall we?

Donnie presents to his brothers his precious Turtle tank, but she's gone, and it's really necessary to find out, who has taken her. And the first person to suspect is April.

Something is odd, don't you think? Yeah, Raphael has taken tyre for their "Midnight special", Leo claimed that Donnie's stuff is common, but they are D's beothers. It's natural for family to borrow(stole) stuff of each other. But this trend was not observed in April. She would never steal anything from Donnie, much less steal anything from him.

Actually, there is a good, logical and solid explanation here. April was number 1 in Donatello' suspect list, because he simply told her about Turtle tank. His brothers didn't know he were working at Moon buggy, except Mikey (Orange helps Dee get the vehicle from Repomantis), but they didn't know what exactly Donnie was working for. They didn't know he build the Turtle tank, he kept it a secret, to surprise his brothers. But April knew.

- Alright you! Where's our turtle tank?

- Hi, DONNIE. You have 9 seconds to say, why are you just broke my door.

- Someone's stole Donnie's turtle tank.

- Haha-ow, I see. As your best friend, you naturally suspect me.

- She gets it!

- Oh-ho, don't give me that! You're the only one could taken it!

The only one, because she knew about it.

As Splints said in this episode - "April is not a snitch"

Donatello does trust April and share with her both, sorrows and joys. But we are not shown this directly. We do not see the action itself, we do not see their calls and conversations on the phone late at night, we only see the consequence. We have no choice and take it as a given.

And the way she cooled him down? Fast, efficient, and Donnie seems to used to it. Moreover, she slapped everyone, but still, she throw Don out of window the last. However, why such a large time delay between him, being slapped and him, was throwing out of the window?

And my favourite scene. It was obvious that Donnie had taken the hardest hit (judging by his scream and the way he was putting his knuckles back in place). Don then claims that their inner circle is secure, Mikey tries to make amends for everyone, and April agrees, blowing them a kiss and closing the window. Cute and mean, isn't it? (You're cute! but mean! why do I always go for your type?! - ep. War and Pizza)

Nota bene: Donnie wouldn't apologize to April. Tough, not caring badass boy image, remember? Even to best friends. It's hard to him to express his feelings by using words, he cannot do it in proper way. But he has Mikey, who is so alike inner him. Michelangelo apologizes not only for himself, but for D mostly, because D starts suspected April.

Let's continue: the episode 8B: Hypno Part Deux

• Donnie put "Donnie's blocker" at April's phone to protect her.

It's common thing that your friend install some programs or apps on your device. But you will always ask your friend to do such a favour, and you will always know about what, when and where were installed on your phone.

And April didn't know Donnie had done something with her phone. It was a real surprise for her, to see blocker with "Donnie says no-no-no".

And you know, the interface of his app. The way he tell this current phrase. Donnie could put a huge banner "THE APP YOU WANT DOWNLOAD TO IS A REAL PIECE OF GARBAGE", as usual antiviruses do. But no, voice interface. It makes the app more personal and thoughtful. Because when Don made gifts for his brother, the program was voiced by a computer-generated female voice. Yes, the tank's interface is voiced by Donatello himself, but his voice sounds more like Google than the real Don. And, we talking about HIS BABEY, for a second. Bit still, the point remains.

• Also, Dale.

Dale is nerdy boy in purple, wow, how convenient for making a parallel with certain purple turtle.

But thing is, April doesn't like Dale. He's clingy, remora guy, who has a little obsession with April, even he's not harmful, still, such behaviour freaks girls (and not them only) out. Her classmate is usually tell her what April O'Neil is "his favourite person" and he loves her. There is little that is attractive about this behavior.

So, there is nothing new and unpredictable here that Dale was rejected. Because April didn't, doesn't and won't like him because of his lame personality and strange behaviour. Our girl in yellow do right thing: she clearly sets personal boundaries and does not allow any dubious personalities to invade them. So that's the reason she refuses to go on a date with him at the end. He's weird, obsessed, and she doesn't like him.

Donatello, as far as I concerned from different versions of TMNT, was always a little obsessive with some things. And, you know, putting a blocker inside your best friend's phone seems a little weird, because it's, in simple words, violation of privacy and personal space. And there are people who may regard this as stalking or sorta.

Yeah, for the most part, he gets away with it, not only because April's focus is in a different area, but also because their bond is stronger than April's with anyone else at school.

She has known him for years. Donnie is her best friend. I can't say that it's fine to her when Dee violates her personal space - her phone, but April can accept Donatello's personality in general.

And he does really have good intentions. Donnie installed this blocker, developed by himself only for one reason: to protect personal space April from fishy apps from nowhere, from being hacked and etc. Don knew her too well, how much she depends on stupid apps that will distract her. He also knew well, that he can't be with her 24/7 to fix problems with April's phone, so Dee put a part of himself to prevent any harm in the future.

And again, "Donnie's gifts"'s vibes. Donatello genuinely cared about April, because he wrote, coded, developed, designed, and dubbed it, turned on the database, and installed it all on April's phone. 'cause, you know, writing programs in general is a bit of a hassle, but writing an antivirus is much more difficult, because viruses are changing, and questionable applications are finding ways to bypass. Do you feel how much effort Dee put in for her?

But Donatello didn't mean to fix April, as he tried to do with his brothers. Purple turtle accepts this girl the way she is, and tries his best to play smoothly with April, by adjusting, not being passive aggressive jerk. It's his outstanding way to show his caring nature, soft side.

Remember, small but meaningful actions.

Maybe, Donnie also can foresee that April may be forced to download some suspicious program, but still, it work: he managed to prevent April being hypnotized, even if couldn't be physically with April at the this moment - Dee was working for Repo Mantis, building dog's paradise for Todd. That's why, by the way, Leo and Raph were dragged into this whole situation. Mayham would teleported literally anyone to help his hostess. Donnie just wasn't at the Lair at the moment.

And on this note, we'll take a break for now. Stay tuned, expect parsing of the series, there's a lot to discuss.

Part 2

Part 3

[mischievouswritingblog]

Meta Essay: Medivh The Bisexual Icon

As of the time of this post, there’s going to be an update coming to World of Warcraft where the once all female ghosts in Karazhan will be changed to include male varieties as well.

Full details on the update can be found here: https://www.wowhead.com/news/female-only-ghosts-in-karazhan-updated-to-include-male-versions-324371

This has caused a lot of fun posts and people to take this as an ‘accidental confirmation’ by Blizzard that the character Medivh is bisexual. Pair this along with how some of his portrayal in Hearthstone was made into Warcraft canon, and in my opinion, it’s an excellent update to his character.

It’s no secret that Blizzard’s had a massive lack in LBGTQ+ representation for the longest time. Often when such subject matter did show up it was treated more as a punchline in some quests or was kept conveniently to the sidelines, with nonconsequential, blink and you miss it text, side characters, moments. It’s insulting, to say the least, and is the source of a growing frustration from the LBGTQ+ members of the audience. What’s more, whenever this frustration gets voiced it’s always talked down to. We are told that to ‘keep politics out of gaming’ and that we are too sensitive, when these are the same people that get bent out of shape when even a single thing changes or is called out in their game. It’s bullshit. LBGTQ+ people exist and the act of existing isn’t a political issue.

But of course, with people even making lighthearted jokes or posts of Medivh being a ‘Bisexual Icon’, there’s folks crawling out of the woodwork with reasons from “But the loooooooore!” (as if the lore isn’t constantly changing and being retconned from one expansion to the next) to “Well A-C-T-U-A-L-L-Y, those male guests were just for the female nobles that visited and attended his parties, Medivh was very straight”. To that, I’m going to say: “Nah, Medivh is a bisexual icon, deal with it”.

In my personal opinion, Medivh is an excellent character to explore queerness  with. He’s a character that’s been around since Warcraft 1 and the effects and ties from his story are still felt throughout World of Warcraft in various ways. Medivh is also a character that’s gone through a large amount of evolution and various portrayals. My personal favorite being the One Night in Karazhan take on him because it’s so different from the usual ‘brooding, grand powerful hermit-mage’ that his type of character usually is. Medivh in One Night in Karazhan is instead, vibrant and is a thriving social butterfly that loves to have and treat people to a good time. His reasonings for being this way make a lot more sense when you really think about what Medivh’s situation was.

Now, I have to mention that I do a much deeper dive and deconstruction of Medivh’s circumstances and just how messed up they were in this self indulgent essay/headcanon dump: ‘My Completely Self-indulgent Medivh Essay’. Feel free to give it a read but here is the basic gist for this essay:

Yes, Medivh was the Guardian, one of the most powerful mages to exist at the time. He was also possessed by Sargeras and was the one that created and opened the Dark Portal that brought the Orcs to Azaroth and changed Azeroth forever. But here’s the thing, Medivh had no choice in any of it.

To be the Guardian means you have to put your life on the line for Azeroth’s sake. This is a role that had to be kept to secrecy, people had to make a lot of sacrifices to be the Guardian. You gain phenomenal powers and it is a great honor but none of this was anything that Medivh ever asked for. He was literally born to become the Guardian, there was no other choice for his own future. 

Then you have Sargeras, he had his plans in play long before Medivh was even a thought. A sliver of Sargeras had entered Aegwynn (Med’s mother and the Guardian before him) from a battle between Aegwynn and his avatar. This influence hid within her and made its move when she decided that she wasn’t going to allow the Council of Tirisfal to choose her heir for her title and powers for her. Ignoring Chronicle’s softening of her, she used Medivh’s father, Neilas Aran, the court magician of Stormwind to sire a child. In TLG she let him know she flat out used him and felt nothing for him then came back later and tossed baby Medivh to him for free childcare. What neither of them knew at the time was that Medivh was possessed by Sargeras while he was in the womb. Sargeras would then screw him over even further by causing his powers to lash out when he was fourteen, causing him to accidentally kill his father and fall into a near 10 year coma, and wake up mentally and emotionally fourteen in a twenty-three-year-old’s body. So from the very beginning Medivh was always set up for failure.

So with this summary out of the way, the point of the matter is that Medivh is a character that had little autonomy for most of his life. His career and his fate were chosen for him from the start. Sargeras was in his head messing with him throughout his life, in TLG Medivh even tells Khadgar that he tried to fight it as much as he could. His story is a tragic one but with his reappearance in Legion there’s potentially a ray of hope.

I think there’s a lot of aspects in Medivh’s story that can tie well with the feelings and experiences of queerness. Not so much the being possessed by discount space Satan, but more so the struggle of trying to have autonomy and hanging onto who you are as a person. Being queer myself and looking at it through that lens, I see Medivh being vibrant and throwing parties as an attempt for him to seize what autonomy he could for himself. To exist, to be seen, and to have an identity of his own that had nothing to do with being the Guardian of Tirisfal. I think that it’s also something that separates Medivh from Sargeras. There were likely times where Sargeras may have forced the lines between them to blur as he gradually poisoned Medivh’s thoughts and twisted his soul throughout the years. Medivh likely had to struggle a lot with separating who he truly was from Sargeras. This being inside him, who wasn’t him but would at times take over his body suppressing Medivh’s true self. It’s a horror story where some elements can really hit close to home.

Medivh I believe surrounded himself with like minded, free spirited people like Barnes and the theater troupe (while there’s the joke Medivh’s only seen three plays, I choose to headcanon he’s a theater kid, given how he has a theater to begin with and his own love for theatrics). Whether you picture Medivh as aro, ace, gay, bi, pan, or trans, with the upcoming changes he clearly accepts many kinds of people into his home.

This also has the interesting effect of changing some of the tones for some events in his lore. One example being the titans sending down the Maiden of Virtue to punish Medivh and make him live a more ‘pure’ life. The Titans are Azeroth’s closest thing to a pantheon of gods. They are beings of order, having taken Azeroth in her rawest form and molding her into something they saw fit. Apparently, Medivh’s parties and behavior was seen as something that required ‘correcting’.

On one hand, it’s really easy to read it simply as Medivh being a selfish, spoiled brat. But with looking at it through a queer lens one can put a more positive spin on the situation. The Maiden of Virtue was sent to shame and punish him into conforming into something the Titans believe someone like Medivh should behave. It clearly didn’t work. Looking at this situation, one can read it as Medivh refusing to relinquish his identity because a ‘higher power’ wanted him to. In the real world there are so many that have to hide their orientation and gender thanks to people using religion and belief as a cudgel. So having a character like Medivh as queer, with the power and willfulness to flat out refuse and shut it down is a refreshing power move.

Medivh’s story and the way he is in general has elements that I believe many people of the LBGTQ+ can relate with. He’s a complicated character that has dealt with abuse and being forced into roles without his consent, he made identity for himself and it was stripped away by an oppressor (Sargeras), and, depending on if Blizzard decides he’s actually resurrected/alive instead of being a ghost, is a survivor.

So to me, I love the idea of Medivh being a queer icon in Warcraft. It hasn’t been officially stated by Blizzard at the time this essay was posted but it has started a fun conversation. There are and will be the haters who will scream and tantrum about the LBGTQ+ touching their precious (when convenient) lore with their filthy paws and tarnishing ‘their game’. But in the meantime, I’m going to continue having a blast with the idea and enjoy working the story potential it gives into fanfics, speculations, and essays.

If you enjoyed this essay, I did a few other bits of meta, headcanons, and speculation for fun: My Completely Self-indulgent Medivh Essay

A Bit About Wizards and Sorcerers

Headcanons: Medivh is Alive and Currently Uses ‘The Guardian’s Study’ as his Home

[rein-ette]

Are you still working on your Commonwealth study? Do you have any thoughts on Arthur's relationships with his colonies apart from Canzuk + US?

Not properly, unfortunately with exams and then work I haven’t had mental/emotional capacity to do real research (and probably won’t for a while 😔). But I have continued to think about and develop certain relationships, and I think I also have old hcs I’ve never shared, so I’ll put those down!

Born into the Empire

Australia

@oumaheroes has already done such great hcs on him idk what I can add, but basically he was a little bit of a rowdy child, always breaking windows and shattering fancy pots, never able to sit still. I think rainbow once mentioned that Ken (short for Kenneth, my name for Aus) was a lot like England as a child in his curiosity and energy, and I wholeheartedly agree. But I think Arthur’s intensity was more inwardly directed, pushing him to pursue and master new talents and learn whatever he could, while Australia is a little more carefree in his love for the outdoors, exploring, jumping around and off things, little wild animals. Unfortunately for him, he was born in a period of the empire when Arthur was very serious about his kids education, and therefore often praised those who studied hard and learned fast, which really just wasn’t Australia’s cup of tea. Australia took this kinda hard and thought he was the “dumb” one in the family that Arthur was always scolding, but in reality Arthur knew and appreciated that Australias interests lay elsewhere — he was just a frustrated, tired, parent who really wanted to give his kids the best while also holding his empire together, two goals that were never going to fit well in the end and would completely exhaust him.

As Australia’s grown older he’s realized a bit of this (not entirely, though) and also that 1) he really did break a lot expensive things and cause general mayhem 2) scolding us Arthur’s way of showing he cares, if he didn’t he wouldn’t have payed attention to him at all 3) despite being a penal colony, he was still one of Arthur’s more “legitimate” children (being white and a boy) and was therefore still incredibly privileged — never having to question, for example, why it was that Arthur was his dad, if it should be this way, or if he had a seat at the family table at all (more on this later).

New Zealand

Zee, from birth, was a clear favourite. Obedient, calm, quietly intelligent, he would also later develop a blistering sense of humour which combined with his appearance made it overwhelmingly clear who’s child he was. If Ken questioned his place in the family because of his poor academic record and others did because of their appearance/race/other complications, Kaelan never had such problems; his siblings called him the “prince.” Zee, however, also had a charm that, like Matthew, endeared him to his siblings and mostly protected him from jealousy, though he certainly still had issues with being called a try hard, daddy’s boy, bossy, arrogant. Certainly as a child Zee was a little prideful and, under that unperturbed demeanour, willful, but he grew out of it by the 20th century and became one of those most trusted by Arthur, second only to Matthew. He’s also always been inseparable from his brother Australia despite their differences, and today they both have one of the healthiest and most amicable relationships with Arthur of any nation, let alone former colonies (family road trips, every summer).

Bermuda

I absolute fell in love with this girl after reading about here, once, in this fic by @shachaai, and after that my mind just ran away with me. For me, her human name given to her by Arthur just has to be Ariel — for the little mermaid reference, yes, symbolizing her connection to the sea and stunning good looks, but also because:

1. Ariel is a biblical name, meaning lion of God. This makes sense to me, because Bermuda began as a Portuguese trade post, so Arthur definitely consulted our resident bad catholic Port before naming her.

2. Ariel used to be boys name. This also makes sense, because I hc Bermuda was and still is a tomboy. Bitch is fierce, takes no prisoners, and has zero filter. Her letters to Arthur, which all the colonies sent so Arthur could keep an eye on things, were full of shit like “I swear to god if the Spanish don’t get out of my waters I might eat one of them,” and “father, I asked you for destroyers two months ago, and yet you sent them to Hong Kong — could you explain this most unusual occurrence, surely it’s not that you forgot”, and “thank you for the harpoon on my birthday, I caught a small shark a couple days ago and have sent you some of its teeth for your collection.” Arthur tolerates this attitude because he’s weak when it comes to girls; he absolutely spoils his daughters (and flushes like a 16 year old when a woman so much as bats her eyelashes at him). Yes, p*ssywhipped Arthur is a hill I will die on.

3. It also suits her because? Ariel? Shakespeare? The Tempest? Bermuda Triangle? Shipwrecks? Daughter-like figure of powerful and vengeful sorcerer? Yeah. And this girl is a fire spirit — she is so lively, snarky, clever. As she’s grown older she’s mellowed out a little, but still: a no shit taken, no fucks given type of gal.

4. Speaking of growing up, she’s also become quite the beauty. Shacha, if I’m remembering correctly, described her as dark skinned, wavy-haired, and green eyed and that image has been burned onto the back of my eyelids ever since. Those Iberian genetics really be pulling through for her, that’s for sure. Engport love child if I’ve ever seen one. Definitely one of the prettiest in her family.

Singapore

I’ve already mentioned this to needcake, but I’m not too big a fan of canon Singapore, so this is my oc version. Singapore is fascinating to me because it had only a very small local population before it became a colony (The original settlement had actually been destroyed by the Portuguese about two centuries before the British started building a port there.) So nation-tans like Singapore and Bermuda really are Arthur’s children in the most direct sense of the word. And yet, Singapore is mostly ethnically Chinese, with Malays being the second largest group. Growing up Asian in a white, Victorian era family surely cannot have been easy and more than once Singapore probably wondered if there hadn’t been some mistake. To make up for the constant fear that he wasn’t “really” British, Singapore studied ferociously and had a truly terrifying work ethic. I’m not sure if this is common knowledge outside Asian circles, so I’ll mention that this hc comes from the fact Singapore is well known for having truly exceptional students and some of the most prestigious schools. Singaporeans score highly in literally everything and they have an advantage with good English learning environments, a highly desirable trait in Asia, but these results come from brutally long hours — and its really saying something that they’re known for working hard, considering the studying ethic of students in Korea, Japan, and China aint nothing to sneeze at, either. To me this actually fits really well with Singapore’s upbringing in Arthur’s household, because Arthur himself prizes intelligence and hard work above all else, being a workaholic himself.

As for their relationship, it was probably the best when Singapore was young and peaked in the 1930s with the massive naval base the British built at Singapore, at the time the largest dry dock in the world. Singapore was a well-behaved child, not necessarily introverted but not rowdy either, and all the way into his teenage years he truly admired Arthur and was proud to be a part of the British Empire, despite his lingering unease and insecurities. The British defeat in World War II, however, was a massive turning point. He had worked his ass off to be a good son, a good brother, to contribute to the only family and system he had ever known, and he had thought by the 30s he was finally on his way to becoming a fine adult. And suddenly, the British surrender brings his entire world crashing down. He had followed the rules faithfully thinking it was his destiny, but suddenly it was clear that all rules were made up. Of course, his insecurities exploded. If the empire was a ruse, what the hell was he? A part of the illusion? He couldn’t have a truly Asian identity, because many of the old East Asian nations shunned him for his Western upbringing, and he could not entirely understand their values either. So he was a kid who kinda had to figure out late and very very suddenly who the fuck he was and wanted to be.

And, well, he’s done pretty well for himself, hasn’t he. After having a total crisis and questioning everything, I think Singapore slowly started to realize that just because the British Empire as a political entity didn’t last forever, that didn’t mean that his entire childhood and identity weren’t real. The love he gave to his siblings and the love he got back, the hard work he put in, his bond with Arthur and the safe, happy childhood he had — those memories and feelings didnt have to be diminished by what came after. Essentially, he learned the lesson all nations have to learn, which is that one needs to be able to discern between duties as a nation and feelings as a human being, and to some extent keep them separate to protect both.

Whoooooo ok I’ll stop there because this turned into a dissertation, sorry. Let me know if there are any specifics u want me to elaborate on or anything I missed, but I’ll leave this here for today :)

[nolansnose]

To my moots: I did A THING. Wrote a lil something. A Nolpat imagine *gasps*

This is unfinished and I will only be updating this everytime Patty gets a point or better yet, score a goal!

Edited and rb'd because this has been updated!

(With added steam 🙈)

Summary: Surprise!

Nolan Patrick x whoever you wanna pair him with in your head

UNTITLED

They hadn't exchanged any kind of communication in three weeks. That kind of radio silence from both their ends wasn't normal. It has been a month since they saw each other last, they were both busy --- she with the endless demands and responsibilities of being the new executive assistant to the director of medical services while Nolan was training in preparation for the incoming season.

It amazes her how they were able to give each other attention in the past year and how they haven't given up on each other. It wasn't easy, it's daunting at times, at least for her.

For someone with such a demanding job and schedule, she truly couldn't figure out how she was able to give time to Nolan.

She didn't understand how someone like her was able to pique his interest or that he continued to give her attention, well, not until these past few weeks. She may be busy but during moments that she wasn't thinking about work, Nolan makes sudden, sometimes unwelcome appearances in her thoughts.

Unwelcome because she shouldn't be thinking about him. They're not... Argh! She sighed and put down the book she's trying so hard to understand in her lap. She's in an old cottage by the beach, alone for this long weekend, her first non work related trip after a long while since being appointed and she's alone. She should be relaxing, resting, eating sumptuous meals and reading this... Shit it was Nolan who gave her this book. Why did she pick this one to bring? She sighed again and tried for the nth time to relax in the couch she was perched on. She put her feet up in the arm rest and reached for the tea in the side table to drink but grimaced as its already cold.

As cold as the weather that wasnt apt for the place she was in. Beaches are made for warm, summery weather, not rain and cold drafts. She looked out the window and shook her head because it was still raining. The rain peltering the roof was loud and... what was that?

She heard something beside the raindrops. Footsteps. Rustling. Knocking? Was someone knocking?

But she wasn't expecting anyone.

Still, she stood up and headed for the kitchen which was near the parking area of the resort she was in. She clutched her chest when she saw another shadow beside the plants outside. Shit! A thief? But this was an exclusive resort!

She grabbed the fruit bowl in the counter and headed for the kitchen door. There was that sound again. Footsteps. And knocking.

She took a deep breath and raised the bowl above her head, ready to whack whoever was on the other side of that door. She unfastened the locks and opened the door.

"Fuck!", the 'intruder' called out and caught the bowl before it made contact with his face.

"Nolan?", she blinked.

The newcomer put down the bowl and raised the hood of his jacket. "Hi,"

"I thought you were a thief!"

Nolan looked at her with amusement. " I knocked but there was no answer."

"When was that? I didn't hear anything."

"Uh, five minutes ago?", he asked as he grabbed a clean towel out of the basket on the washing machine near the door. "May I?"

She exhaled loudly while moving away from the door so Nolan could dry his shoes in the mat and removed his jacket which was also wet.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. How did he even know she was here? Oh. Right. She remembered telling him about this weekend trip the last time they were together.

"I missed you," he said. "You didn't text or call."

"You never did, too," she pointed out.

"Hey, I called," he said with a bit of pain in his voice.

"When did you call?"

"Are you going to let me come in or do I have to defend myself by your kitchen door?"

2

"What's that for?", she asked having glanced at his backpack.

"Change of clothes. I've been in town for a few days, actually ", he replied honestly.

She gave him another quick look before going back to retrieve the cup of tea in the living room and brought it up in the kitchen to heat in the microwave. She felt his eyes on her while she set the timer.

"Chamomile?", Nolan asked just as he put down his already opened backpack in the kitchen counter and took out a clean pair of socks.

She didn't know whether to be irritated or happy that he remembered her preference. Normally, she'd appreciate it but now she felt cornered. Vulnerable. She came here to unwind, rest and think, -- to escape from all that's troubling her -- that included Nolan.

Yep, trouble. That's Nolan, alright. What else would you call the man who chose to entangle himself with someone like her? Even for a weekend, she wanted a break. She wanted him out of her head, her body and her bed.

"You still haven't answered why you're here," she took the mug out of the oven and set it on the counter. She caught the smirk on his face. "What?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Nolan took a step towards her and tenderly caressed her arm."Didn't you miss me?"

She looked up into his eyes to see a worry there she didn't normally see.

They've talked about their situation a handful of times before, where they're headed eventually. Together they've decided that its better if no one else knew whatever kind of relationship they were to have.

She can't remember exactly how that topic came about, but they wound up in bed together before defined lines were ever set.

This, whatever this was, has gone on for a year, a short time compared to others. She knew she shouldn't keep her hopes or expectations up, but sometimes, she gets tired of her feelings being hurt from a misunderstanding because nothing was solid or made public. Sometimes the feelings were his. Sometimes he acted jealous or frustrated because she behaved in a way that made him question the exclusivity they had agreed on a year ago.

"Not at all?" His low, lazy voice pulled her back from her thoughts.

She shook her head. "No."

He leaned into her some more, their closeness made her feel like she's drowning. "Liar."

Then his mouth met hers and she instinctively opened her mouth to allow his tongue to enter. He tasted sweet and salty like caramel popcorn. He satisfied every urge and each craving.

A whimper escaped her throat and he had her pushed against the counter with one hand in her hair as the other lifted her leg and grabbed her ass. He knew how to completely envelop her into a whirlwind of sex. It started out with a kiss as it always did.

And this kiss grew more fervent and she felt a familiar hardness push against her in just the right place. He made her feel sexy and desirable in a way that she revelled in. His kisses were addictive.

Its hard to reclaim her sanity everytime they ended up like this, like he drained whatever courage she had left. But before she could totally gave in, she held Nolan's arm firmly and pushed him away from her. He moaned a little as a protest but moved away and let her right herself.

The desire for her was evident in his eyes, in his jeans and she tried not to look but his scent, his kiss lingered. She was still dazed and her heart was beating wildly.

"What?" He asked as he touched the edge of his mouth.

"We can't continue this, Nolan", she insisted.

He shook his head. "We're not doing anything we haven't done bef----"

"No", she cut him off before he could finish his sentence. "This as in hiding. We thought it wont get this complicated given our work and who we are, we thought it'd be easy. None of this is easy, Nolan."

"Thank you for saying we, instead of you," he nodded as he answered. "Seriously. We both said this unofficial exclusive thing would be easy and a breeze and I'm glad you didn't pile the blame for your feelings just on me."

She looked at him carefully. Sometimes, his prankness still startled and overwhelmed her. She hoped and tried hard for its effect to not register on her face.

"Whoa," he said with one eyebrow raised when her gaze turned squinty. "Why are you looking at me like I just told you I'm getting married or something?"

"Let's end this, Nolan," she said in a faint voice, then grabbed the mug of tea again.

She felt him observing her eventhough her attention was on the tea she's drinking.

"You already said that four months ago."

"This time I meant it." She said in a voice lacking of conviction.

[practicalmagicintuitions]

HC-NV relationship after the IG post (part 2)

This is the second part of my reading. I've decided to post this separately because it’s a 2 months forecast and the previous reading was long enough already. Cards pulled on the same day 15/05

DISCLAIMER: If you will send me an Anon, I will answer the same tone as your ask, opinion is written.

All information and statements made in this reading or any other post of mine are all alleged until proven to be fact and for entertainment purposes & usage only. All information stated is based on my intuition and my tarot cards. Opinion only. The readings have no intention to cause any harm to the individuals, people featured in it.

JUNE

Emperess rx, Knight of Sw rx.

At this point, because I made many readings on them I can say Empress rx is a significator of NV in my readings. So when this card comes up I immediately though it’s her and the KofSw is him. But first I want to give you the general meaning of those 2 cards and then I give an explanation on them as people or personal behavior. I say one thing in the beginning. Both cards are out of control cards. 

We got the Empress rx many many times, so I am sure you are familiar with this as a person and how they behave. 

It’s a difficult period, it's a lack of growth. If you got this card, your happiness and fulfillment is not there but somewhere else. Forcing a situation that is not meant to be. It’s destruction. Lack of growth, lack of abundance. No matter how much you try this situation won’t be fruitful. In a family front it means, disharmony, family fraud, new addition to a family who is disapproved, family secrets. 

Knight of Swords rx.

I remember, once I said swords are a two-edged weapon. If it’s upright it is the intellect, the knowledge, clear communication, if it’s rx it’s the manipulation, the words which cause harm etc. 

KofSw rx it’s like Don Quixote fighting with windmills. Someone who is so hot-headed, so rushing into fights that he seems ridiculous at the end. Someone who is crying for injustice but has no facts or proof. Impulsive, having tantrums. Blaming the mistake on others. Trying to get away with something and not listening to advice. 

So based on this their June could mean they will have some family fraud, where they will have some victim mentality like ( NV and HC vs. one of them’s family or the fans again.) Or it could mean NV vs HC where NV is the disruptive force. Empress rx could be overly sensual, very flirtatious (sometimes a cheater). And this card is the reason I am saying I don’t see babies in this relationship. So if she is like that, HC is the one who has tantrums, who is fighting with her verbally. Who is blaming everything on her, who is pitiful.

When you are trying to connect the cards, you look for colors, facing, movements etc between them. That is the way, how you build the connection. So it almost looks like the Knight is protecting the Empress with his swords out. So I would say it’s more like the HC+NV as a team vs someone else scenario will happen. 

I don’t know how spectacular this will be, I think many things will remain behind closed doors, maybe we will have some rumors, but we don't really have outings now, so who knows. 

JULY 

7 of Pentacles rx, 3 of Swords rx

I won’t lie, I see two different meanings of this combination. Let’s start with the more positive one : Loss and healing. 

Many people make the mistake that they cannot see others in the pentacles card but money. Of course, this is the strongest connotation to it, but I would say it’s more like about resources. Not only money. Your resource can be your time, your affection, your values, etc. 

First of all, it’s a bad investment. You are spending more than you earn. It is impatience, frustration because you are using your resources badly or you do not earn enough or fast enough.  You feel you have started a project which is too big for you, and thinking about going away. You underestimated your strength. You started something with poor planning and now just thinking why? It also could mean you are taking more time out than you should. I was thinking about it because he is already posting very little on social media, so maybe he will even less. Or if he really will have a rocky June with his family/fans maybe he will step back from them a little. This rx card is a little bit suspicious, feels or imagines some threat. 

In a relationship it could mean a rocky patch too because you are busy with something else, for example with your career, so you have little time to your relationship. It also means disappointment. 

So if they will have a bad June with each other, it could mean they are too busy with their career. And because this card is not the best career card it could mean they are working on their careers but the results won't be the one they expected. 

In career means that you have a little ambition or your projects are failing because of poor planning. Setbacks, problems and again frustration because of it. 

3 of Sw rx

This is a very very interesting and complicated card. It has so many layers.

We see 3 swords in a heart but because it’s reversed, the swords are falling out. This means the healing aspect. You are still in great pain and probably will have the scars forever, but you start to heal slowly. And it also could mean you are denying your inner pain. 

So… if he will have some fallout with his family in June that 2 cards can mean, he will regret this, he will feel he lost something, he put his resources ( value, trust, money) in the wrong “soil” so this causes serious anxiety and frustration. But if he realizes this, if he steps back a little, it means he could start to heal. 

How is this healing look like? 

It is still slow and painful, it’s not the rainbows, unicorns, sparkles kind of healing. The swords cut deep, the pain is intense, you have scar tissues, but probably you missed the worst pain. 

The second possible meaning of these 2 cards : loss and denying your heartache. ( I think the healing aspect is more possible here too, but I definitely wanted to give you more insight) 

So, fallout with the family which he regrets dearly and have the sense of loss but he is denying how serious is this. He will be devastated but pretending to be okay. 

A personal note: I really loved this reading. Not because it was so positive or negative but because it really challenged me as an intuitive tarot reader. Especially the last 2 cards. Really had to go beyond the meanings, using my intuitions etc. That was a good practice, loved it. 

UPDATE on 19/05:

Oh ok, I think I totally forgot to add to my 2nd part reading that I wanted to ask about their August too. I was just shuffling the cards and shuffling and shuffling for I don’t know how long, but nothing happened, I felt nothing. Then half of the deck just felt out from my hand. So I stopped and didn’t force it. So I think July and its aftermath in August will be interesting. I wanted to post this separately, but I will update my reading with it too.

[mythicamagic]

Eve’s Inferno - Rukiyui oneshot

Dante's Inferno AU. Eve has searched almost every circle of Hell, leaving just one left. In order to find Adam, she must face the one responsible for their banishment from Eden. But the Devil is used to whispering sweet nothings, and Ruki has succeeded in getting under her skin once before. Rukiyui oneshot.

AN: Made for the Diabolik Lovers Zine @diabolikloverszine​ and published with permission since the sales have closed. I had this idea a long time ago, due to Ruki often being associated with Lucifer in the games. Hope you enjoy!

Rated T

3,000 words (also posted on Ao3)

Eve's Inferno

Disembarking from the small boat, a young woman kept her hand in the ferryman's as he assisted her down. He smiled gently with ashen lips and doleful eyes, nodding to a set of double doors awaiting her.

Thanking him, she offered coins for the ride but was met with a quiet decline. He soon pushed off the dead earth, slinking back up the dark, murky waters of the cavern's river.

The grey doors had vast, intricate carvings of desperate people rising out of it, frozen mid-air, arms outstretched and clawing as though trying to escape. She wondered if they were real human souls, trapped as such a mundane part of the underworld. Taking a breath, she set her shoulders and reached out. The doors opened easily under her hesitant touch.

The woman didn't know what to expect behind them. Perhaps fire and brimstone, the dead or dying, tortured continuously and screams ringing out. But the vast, open space looked empty. There were no cries of pain, blissfully silent. A large cave awaited her, walls dark and jagged with obsidian rock. At her feet lay a cool, frozen lake, solid enough for her to stand on as it took up the entirety of the floor, spreading wide. Curling, misty air didn't chill her bones or make breath visible, instead feeling a little heady.

She steeled herself, walking forwards. In all the domain only a single thing truly held her gaze, that of a lone white tree standing on a small island. The shock of white and green was impossible to ignore.

With careful steps, she crossed the lonely, silent space. Walking onto the island, fresh grass crunched beneath her feet- soon coming to a stop. Breath catching, wide eyes took in the sight of a man with familiar dark hair reclined against the tree. He held a book, pale fingers gripping its spine.

She could not place how she felt, standing there, watching him calmly read. Soft, blue-grey eyes looked as disarming as she remembered when they flicked up to her. But they could sharpen. That tempting mouth could praise and charm one moment and then damn her the next.

"Good to see you, Yui."

"Hello Ruki," she murmured, folding her hands before her skirts. Swallowing, she babbled; "I didn't pay the ferryman, I hope that's alright."

"Azusa can be overly generous, it hardly matters," he dismissed, shifting long legs. "What can I do for you?"

Yui's fingers twisted into her sleeve. The casualness of his question belied Ruki's penchant for manipulation. If she weren't careful, she'd make a mistake, just like their last meeting all those years ago in Eden.

So, raising her head, she set thin shoulders. "I'm here for Adam," her tone was firm and final.

No surprise flickered in his expression, attention returning to his book as though bored.

"I-if you can't give him to me, then I'd like to know where he is. I've been looking for him in the other eight circles for-"

"Centuries, I know."

Annoyance flared, "if you knew, why didn't you meet with me? The other princes weren't very..." she trailed off, curbing her tongue for the sake of diplomacy, "helpful."

A deceptively pleasant chuckle rang out. "Do you expect the ruler of a domain to heed every whim from their subjects? Especially subjects of hell?" Cruel lips curved as he shifted, setting the book down before standing. "Besides, most people when searching for someone will give a description."

Yui held her ground when he approached, heart thundering- drumming wildly in her ears. "You know what he looks like."

"But you don't."

The dark-haired young man, despite his handsome features, did not possess a presence that stood out or screamed malice. When compared with the other princes, his appearance wasn't as eye-catching, attitude not as loud or attention-grabbing. In a crowd, your gaze would likely pass over him. Despite this, when he stepped closer, Yui felt a pressure in the air. A type of sticky humidity that heralded storms. Those eyes, so calm and cold, implored her to confess her sins and sink to her knees. He'd treat her like a pet. A well-fed, maybe even cared for pet, but a pet nonetheless.

"P-please don't toy with me," she murmured. "You probably removed my memories of his face and voice, but I remember Eden. You won't keep us apart."

Ruki reached for her, brushing a shock of cold knuckles against her cheek. Yui congratulated herself for not flinching despite the rush of feeling that attacked her. Compared to the second circle of Lust, with prince Laito's thoughtless, grabby hands, this was nothing. And yet... such a small touch demanded her attention, skin pricking.

"Of course you'd assume I did that. Doesn't it occur to you that he put you here and dictated your punishment?" Hot breath fanned over her mouth, and something tightened in Yui's lower stomach. Lulled by the stroke of his fingers gliding from chin to ear, Yui rocked back on her heels to try to clear her head.

That touch changed- locking into blonde hair and grasping tight to prevent escape. Yui stilled with a gasp, gritting her teeth.

"You're afraid," he purred.

"N-no," she thought for a moment and admitted; "not of what you can do to me. Just of my memories fading."

She'd seen what that did to souls. Lost, wandering figures mourning their own condition. They couldn't even remember their own names.

That touch turned gentle and soothing again, but she didn't trust it not to turn into violence at a second's notice. "Why do you care so much about finding him?"

"B-because I love him?" Wasn't that a question with an obvious answer? She'd literally been created from a rib to be Adam's other half.

"You can't love someone you don't remember. Someone you don't know. You'd trust a stranger like that?" Devastatingly beautiful eyes shifted over her pale expression, his pupils slightly slit. Ruki leaned closer, lips ghosting over the delicate shell of her ear. This time she was unable to suppress a shiver. "You should give yourself over to your Master's hands instead... I wouldn't treat my Livestock poorly."

Something hot churned in her stomach. "You're not my Master and I'm not cattle."

A low chuckle resounded in her ear, firm fingers gliding down her spine. "I seem to remember us having a conversation similar to this a long time ago. Do you recall?"

Yui squeezed her eyes shut, trying to push back the memory. It flooded through the gaps between her fingers like water. She could suddenly smell thick, choking scents of roses, feel lush grass and flowers brushing at bare legs. Lashes reluctantly opened, and her breath hitched.

The lake and lone tree were nowhere in sight. Ruki had vanished. Instead, she found herself wandering through the achingly familiar gardens of Eden. Birds sang to each other in twisting trees, lions and other predators lazed around, heedless of her or other prey. Yui felt her skin prick from a faint chill in the air, glancing down to find herself naked.

It was all exactly as she remembered. She'd become Eve again, lost in those painful memories that had haunted her for centuries. Only... she still couldn't remember Adam.

---

Rounding a large flower bed, Eve lay eyes on a single tree, separated from all other greenery. It bore fruit, red apples catching the sun in such a way that salvia filled her mouth at the mere thought of tasting them.

"You can have one if you like."

Eve's gaze slid down the apple tree's truck to find a man leaning against it. No, not a man.

An angel.

She frowned, making no move to cover herself as she approached.

"But I was told not to."

The dark-haired angel smiled, and she felt no reason to be afraid. "Why do you obey blindly?"

"I don't know."

Some frustration marred his handsome face. He gestured to a small pond not too far away, "go look into the water."

The woman did so because she'd been told to, and it didn't cross her mind to resist. Kneeling at the water's edge, blonde hair slid forward and Eve's breath hitched at the sight of her own reflection. Her eyes struggled to take in the image, a stunned hand raising to touch her reddening cheek.

'That's me...'

Complicated thoughts blazed to life in her mind where none had been before. Wonder, perception, a briefly vain absorption in her own existence having palpable proof before her eyes. What a gentle and pretty face. She loved it simply because it was her own, something that only she owned. Eve was at once changed. No longer an extension of Adam, she felt like a person.

The angel knelt not too far away. "I'll ask again; why do you obey blindly?"

"Well because..." she trailed off, swallowing. "I suppose I was created after Adam so I should behave in order to show my gratitude?"

"You act like a Livestock that's been reared and bred in a shelter. That doesn't sound like honest loyalty to me."

"No, I- maybe it isn't, " her arms moved to hug herself, wondering why she felt a little cold. Maybe it was the strange, isolated feeling his question awakened in her. "What is... honest loyalty?"

His eyes sharpened, tone becoming firm. "It's when you can be certain the one you've put faith in can care for you. In turn, you support them, like they're a worthy Master."

Eve picked at soft green grass, mulling this over. "Sounds as though you have experience with it."

"Mn, though lately, I've been feeling dissatisfied."

She got the sense that he wouldn't be saying anything more. "I feel... different. Like I'm not the same Eve as a moment ago."

Her companion shifted to stand, some white feathers from exquisite wings falling to land on the water's surface. She watched them float and twirl slowly with fascination.

"If you're someone else, you could always give yourself a new name," he casually suggested.

"Give... myself?" Eve chewed on her bottom lip, thinking. A name came out of nowhere. No one suggested it, so at once, she felt slightly giddy and pleased with her hushed murmur of: "...Yui."

Blue-grey eyes shifted. A pale hand rested on his chest as he bowed slightly. "Yui. Well met."

"Well met," she blushed, glancing at the funny material wrapped around his body curiously. "What's your name?"

"I was given the name Lucifer."

Yui tilted her head, sending lush falls of blonde over one shoulder. "Oh, did you change yours too?"

"Yes. I chose the name Ruki instead."

Her hands curled in her hair, testing out the new name on her tongue. "Ru...ki."

Ruki stiffened slightly, attention weighed upon her like a heavy, palpable thing with substance and form. She felt her cheeks flush, remembering the reflection of herself in the water. For the first time, she wondered what he might be thinking. What an angel's own perception of her was like.

"Mn... there's no need to get caught up with trivial things," he cleared his throat, walking towards the tree again.

"I wanted to ask about those things draping over your body," Yui chirped, following.

"My clothes? More trivial talk," he sighed, not particularly annoyed, however. Ruki stopped by the truck and rested a hand upon it, "you can have clothes too if you desire."

"I can?" So many new things were being offered to her today! She felt as though discovery was perhaps the single most wonderful thing to experience. She hungered for more- like the reflection and her new name. "Yes. I'd like that!"

He made a gesture, twisting his wrist in the air- and at once those strange, wondrous threads were wrapped around her, covering her shoulders but clinging around her chest and then falling down to her feet like a waterfall. Yui touched the material, finding it soft. She giggled, looking at him. "Thank you," she said breathlessly.

Ruki nodded, face unreadable. He then gestured to the fruit hanging above them. "You can still take one of these if you wanted."

At this, she hesitated, stopping by his side. "I... I'm not sure..."

"Did we not establish that you don't have to give your loyalty to someone who hasn't earned it?" His pleasant voice remained patient. A cool hand, chilled to the touch, met the base of her spine. The woman stilled, feeling that palm drag up her back, before curling in her hair. He seemed at once too close and yet not near enough.

"Maybe if I... take a bite, I can explain that I was just discovering new things? I'll know what it's like and won't be tempted anymore," she murmured.

Strong fingers tightened, stroking the back of her neck. "What an interesting word to use. Yes, I suppose you won't be tempted. You'll have had experience, and no one should punish you for that."

She agreed and reached up of her own volition, grasping a red fruit and yanking to break it free. She then sank blunt teeth into the apple, making a noise as juices overflowed in her mouth. Ruki's slit gaze dilated.

"It tastes wonderful!" She smiled, offering him some. The angel refused, taking a few steps back.

"I'm happy for you, but I should really be going now."

"Oh," Yui wilted, not even noticing the darkening, angry clouds above. "A-alright, I'll see you later! I should go share this with Adam."

"Yes..."

---

Blinking, Yui shook herself. Like an after-image, Ruki and the gardens changed. They melted away, revealing the lonesome lake once more. Ruki stood without his wings, having lost them in the fall. She could remember hearing about his uprising, his sins. They were far worse and more numerous than her own, and yet there they stood, together in the last layer of Hell. Two traitors.

"You didn't need to show me that," Yui murmured. "I do still remember. Please, please just tell me where Adam is."

Ruki looked almost deceptively kind for a moment, features softening. "They forgave Adam. He has been accepted into Heaven and left you behind, Eve."

Her knees threatened to buckle, lungs constricting. No, no, she needed to calm down. Of course he'd lie. "The truth, please," she gritted out.

Strong hands caught her slim waist as she moved back, starting violently at his touch and proximity. "I am not lying, Livestock."

"How can you expect me to believe you?" tears pricked her eyes.

"I understand-" he hissed, gathering Yui's thin, shivering body closer and curling around her. "I'm the snake that tempted Eve. You don't trust me and see me as nothing but an unworthy Master- but there's a place for you, here Eve." The smoke of a smile lingered on his lips, unseen by her, but she could hear it, feel it in his voice. "Here, by my side. We're a lot alike, cast out for our sins. All we did was utilise our free will. I'm not like him..." Ruki quietly purrs. "I won't shut you out no matter how much you sin."

Tears leaked down her cheeks as Yui raised her head, finding his lips much closer than anticipated. "Just give me your loyalty."

Trembling, the sensation of his mouth pressing against hers stole her breath. Shame rose to mingle with the glow he elicited within her chest, feeling herself considering, wondering if perhaps- just maybe... he genuinely cared for her.

'What is...honest loyalty?'

Yui's fingers curled in his clothes.

'It's when you can be certain the one you've put faith in can care for you. In turn, you support them, like they're...a worthy Master.'

Two hands shot out, shoving against his chest. 

Ruki grunted, eyes flashing. "Yui-"

"No! I-if it is true, then I-I'm happy for him!" Yui yelled. "Adam deserves to be free, but I won't ever give you my loyalty. I won't be your Livestock," she turned, hurrying away.

"Yui!" Ruki snarled, something hard leaking into his voice.

She stepped off the island, landing upon the lake a second before his hand met a barrier. Yui blinked, noting that he couldn't seem to set foot off the island, unable to leave the tree where he'd helped her commit the first sin of man. It seemed someone up in Heaven had a sense of humour.

Her blonde hair bounced as she jogged away, having no idea where to go. Anywhere was better than with him.

"You can't leave," came his quiet voice. "We'll keep going over this. We'll keep doing it, as many times as it takes for you to say yes."

Yui ignored him, reaching out to touch the large grey doors- only to hear a quiet snap of fingers behind her.

---

Sitting up, she stifled a yawn.

"We're here, miss."

Disembarking from the small boat, the woman kept her hand in the ferryman's as he assisted her down. She tried to give him coins, but he declined, continuing on his way. Approaching some large, imposing grey doors, she noted they had vast, intricate carvings of people rising out of them. Taking a breath, she pushed them open, stepping into the quiet space.

Awaiting her, marooned on a single island within the lake, the Devil watched as Eve approached.

[mikauzoran]

Marichat/Lila Fake-Dating/Emotional Blackmail: Betting Against the House: Chapter Six

Read it on AO3: Betting Against the House: Chapter Six: Fidelity

Marinette was so engrossed in her sewing project that Tikki had to inform her that Chat Noir was tapping on her skylight.

“What?” She looked up with a jerk, her stitch going crooked as her hands accidentally moved the material.

“Chat Noir’s here,” Tikki repeated, glancing back up towards the skylight. “Or, he might have just left. I don’t hear him knocking anymore.”

Marinette swore under her breath as she pushed herself up out of the chair and sprang into action, ascending the ladder up to her loft at double her normal speed. She didn’t see him at the window, so she pushed it open and pulled herself up onto her balcony.

He turned around from where he’d been leaning on the balcony railing, taking her in with soft eyes she was more used to seeing as Ladybug.

“Uh…hey,” he greeted, raising a hand tentatively.

“Hey.” She blinked, eyes going to the rose in his other hand. “Is that…?”

She pointed.

He followed her gaze, looking down at his own hand in surprise. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry.”

He lifted the rose, holding it out to her as he timidly advanced. “I think you dropped this—I mean, I know you dropped it. I saw you drop it, but… Did you want it back?”

A cloudy expression set into her face as she stepped forward to take the rose and then stared at it thoughtfully.

It didn’t look like her thoughts were positive ones.

“You don’t have to take it back,” he hurriedly added. “I’ll keep it if you don’t want—”

With a jolt like one suddenly waking in the middle of a dream, Marinette’s gaze whipped around to her right, and she began searching the streets below.

“…Uh… If you’re looking for Adrien Agreste, he’s gone,” Chat informed gently, not all together sure that she was even looking for him in the first place.

Marinette looked back to him in surprise. “He is?”

Chat nodded. “I kind of saw the…er…little scene…between you and him. I was here to see you, and I just happened to catch…whatever that was. Sorry.”

She held up her hands and waved them, seeming to come back fully to the present moment and out of her thoughts. “No, it’s okay. It was…” She winced, biting her lip. “It was nothing. Um… Did you want to come in?”

“May I?” He took a hesitant step forward. “I don’t want to bother you. I heard…” His brow furrowed, and he lowered his voice. “I heard a couple things. Are you feeling okay? I heard you were sick.”

She averted her gaze, her cheeks colouring slightly. “Thanks. Yeah, I’m fine. I’m not actually sick. I just…I kind of feel like crap. I probably look like crap,” she laughed ruefully, glancing down at her sweatpants and baggy t-shirt and touching her hair self-consciously.

“You look cute,” he chuckled. “I dig the messy bun.”

She cracked up at that. “Thanks, but it got that way by accident rather than design. It was a fully-functional, respectable-looking bun earlier before I rolled around and pulled on my hair in grief and messed it up.”

He clicked his tongue, waving away her protests. “You’re rocking it, Princess. Trust me. I know what I’m talking about.”

Her lips settled into a soft smile, and she motioned for him to follow her down into her room. “Come in, Minou. I could use a friendly face. For some reason, today, it feels like everyone’s against me.”

“I promise they’re not really,” he attempted to comfort her as they made their way down into her attic bedroom.

She hummed ambivalently, dropping the rose off at her desk before taking a seat on her chaise and gesturing for him to sit at her feet. “Can I play with your hair? Please?”

“Yeah, sure,” he replied, hoping he didn’t sound too eager as he sat between her knees, his back to her.

They sat in silence for a good minute or two, Marinette running her fingers through his hair to comb it and then separating little strands into sections to braid, before she finally spoke up, mumbling, “…Today kind of sucked.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered a little more balefully than made sense since she didn’t know that he was the chief cause of her strife. “Did you feel like talking about it?”

“No. I mean, yeah, but…” She pursed her lips, shaking her head. “It’s complicated.”

He waited a beat, debating before remarking offhandedly, as if he had no personal stake in the matter, “…I hear that Adrien Agreste is persona non grata around here. Apparently he’s dating that awful Lila girl?”

“Lila freaking Rossi,” Marinette hissed. “I don’t know what the heck is the matter with him. How can he just…? She is worse than awful, Chat Noir. She’s a bully and a liar and—ugh. I don’t even,” she growled. “How can he even stand to let her touch him? He knows what she’s like, and still he…he…” Marinette petered out with another “Ugh!” of frustration.

Chat swallowed hard, guilt wrapping its fingers around his heart and squeezing painfully. “Maybe…Maybe there’s some piece to the puzzle that you’re missing,” he suggested cautiously. “Maybe he has a good reason. Maybe he doesn’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice,” she pouted sullenly, her temper cooling somewhat. “He could stand up for himself and say no for once. He’s always been like this, Chat Noir. He never wants to cause trouble, and he always avoids confrontation. He’s spineless.”

Chat winced, feeling the jab slide clean between his ribs and puncture a lung.

“He just appeases everyone and lets them walk all over him. It makes me sick sometimes to watch him cave without a word. I don’t know what I ever saw in him, and I don’t know why I put my faith in him,” she muttered bitterly.

“Maybe it’s more complicated than you think,” he offered in a flimsy attempt at self-defence. “I’m sorry he let you down, Marinette. You’re totally within your rights to be angry, but you can’t know what’s going on inside his head. Maybe he has a good reason, and you’ll feel bad later for being so harsh on him.”

“Yeah, maybe.” She blew out a long sigh, dropping her arms from his hair to loosely hang around his neck and resting her head on top of his. “I’m just really hurting right now, Chaton. He was the one person I thought I could count on in my struggle with Lila, so I’m feeling utterly betrayed,” she whimpered. “It’s hard to give him the benefit of the doubt when I can’t imagine any circumstance that would compel him to date her.”

Chat closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe through the aching pain in his chest. It killed him to sit there useless while she was hurting—while he was hurting her. But he couldn’t explain himself. She’d insist that he stop, and then what would have been the point of submitting to Lila’s ever-increasing demands over the years?

He had to see this through to the finish.

“I’m sorry, Princess,” he whispered helplessly. “I wish I could do something to make it better for you. Know that I would do anything to make it better.”

“Well,” she chuckled halfheartedly, trying to lighten the mood. “You could start by not trying to make me behave rationally and think about things from Adrien’s point of view. It would be easier if I could just demonize him and lash out at him with all of my righteous fury.”

“Sorry to take away your scapegoat,” he laughed weakly.

“Yeah,” she teased, giving his hair a little nuzzle. “Whose side are you on, anyway? Mine or his?”

He twisted around to face her, kneeling at her feet and gazing up at her earnestly. “Yours,” he stressed, desperate for her to believe him. “Yours. Always yours, even when it doesn’t feel like it.”

She blinked at him, taken aback by his vehemence.

Slowly, a warm, genuine smile danced across her lips, and she leaned in to brush a delicate kiss against his forehead. “Thank you.”

His heart nearly exploded as she pulled back and smiled down at him with a soft look that made him think that maybe he had a chance after all.

“Yeah. I mean, yeah. Anytime,” he replied dumbly, struggling to get his brain and his mouth to work in concert. “You’re welcome. Always.”

She laughed—a light, airy sound that made his heart soar—and it was obvious from the smug look on her face that she could tell how smitten he was.

He couldn’t bring himself to care. So what if she knew she had him at her mercy? He trusted her with his heart.

“Wanna play video games?” she inquired, breaking him out of his reverie.

He blinked at her, his brain still scrambled from the memory of her lips against his skin.

“If you have time,” she hastened to add, nerves flaring up at his lack of a response. “I mean, I know you’re busy what with saving Paris and regular life stuff, but…if you weren’t doing anything, I was supposed to be hanging out with my friends tonight, only that’s not happening because Adrien is a traitor, so if you wanted to hang out, play some Smash Brothers, have dinner with me and my family, snuggle on the couch and watch movies…? I could use the company,” she confessed.

“Yes to all of the above,” he replied enthusiastically, finally getting a handle on how his mouth functioned again.

Adrien was still floating on cloud nine when he returned home several hours later.

 Lila had pressured Adrien into agreeing to come up with a romantic surprise for her in response to Adrien’s claim that Nino had been consulting with Adrien about a surprise for Alya the previous day (since Adrien was, allegedly, so good at that kind of thing), and Adrien did not aim to disappoint.

He escorted Lila to her locker where she found beautiful orange lilies inside.

“Oh, Adrien!” Lila squealed, leaping into his arms and giving his cheek a joyful kiss. “They’re beautiful!”

He couldn’t tell if she were just putting on a show or if she were genuinely pleased with the gift.

She was certainly satisfied with the response of the other students as they cooed and raved about how sweet Adrien was, what a cute couple he and Lila made.

Marinette stood apart from the others, looking on in a mix of resentment and pensiveness.

Adrien wondered if she knew anything about the meanings of flowers. If so, she might know that orange lilies were not a nice gift. Perhaps she was wondering if Adrien knew the implications of the flowers he had given his girlfriend.

She caught him gazing at her and turned away, going to her own locker. Once there, she gave a start, a soft gasp escaping her lips when she spotted the sunflowers, tucked inside and waiting for her with a little note attached.

Adrien’s heartbeat quickened a little at the pleased smile gracing her lips and the rosy blush rising in her cheeks.

Alya was the first to notice Marinette’s surprise and draw the attention of the others.

“What’s this, Girl? A secret admirer?” she trilled excitedly.

“Alya, don’t—” barely made it past Marinette’s lips as Alya swiped the card and read aloud, “‘For my Princess. I hope these sunflowers brighten your day, even though they’re not half as radiant as you are. Much love from your not-so-secret admirer.’”

The girls chattered excitedly all at once, completely forgetting about Lila to join in the speculation about Marinette’s mystery boy.

Lila turned a venomous glare on Adrien, hissing dangerously under her breath, “Your ‘Princess’, is she? You did this on purpose to upstage me, didn’t you?”

Adrien frowned, leveraging all of his acting skills to feign wounded innocence. “Hey, I don’t know why you’re looking at me like that. Those flowers aren’t from me.”

Lila’s eyes narrowed, scanning him intently.

“He’s just a friend,” Marinette insisted over the din of her friends. “Just a close friend that I play video games online with. He’s a total flirt. He’s not even serious. He knows I had a rough day yesterday, and he was just trying to cheer me up.”

The girls didn’t seem to buy Marinette’s story entirely, but her persistent denials seemed to mollify all but Alya.

“Oh, Honey. I think he’s serious, even if you’re not,” Alya hummed skeptically, pitying the poor boy who had fallen for her rather oblivious best friend.

The other girls joined in with sympathetic hums of their own.

Adrien turned to Lila. “I feel like you owe me an apology for your accusations of infidelity.”

“How about not?” Lila growled quietly, shoving her books roughly into Adrien’s arms as she continued to seethe over Marinette inadvertently stealing the spotlight.

 The week stretched on with, luckily, only a few minor incidents to mark it.

Marinette continued to hold a grudge against Adrien, but she was more than happy to spend her evenings with Chat Noir.

He was glad that he could help her feel less alone, even if it were just in some small way, and the time he passed with her was a balm for him too.

It was a relief, after dealing with Lila’s ever-increasingly ridiculous demands all day, to cuddle and watch Disney and Studio Ghibli movies with Marinette, to bake cookies together, to play niche video games, or just to sit in her room working on separating things but enjoying the other’s presence.

Nino kept giving Adrien worried glances, looking like he was this close to saying something several times a day.

It made Adrien sick with anxiety.

He shouldn’t have told Nino. It felt like he had the sword of Damocles hanging over his head and never knew when it would drop, when Nino would break his promise and try to tell everyone about Lila, ruining years’ worth of Adrien’s sacrifices and hard work to protect Marinette.

If Nino asked him if he were okay one more time, Adrien was going to cry.

All he could do was lie and say he was fine, all the while knowing that Nino knew he was lying.

“Just don’t say anything to anyone,” Adrien kept repeating, and Nino would nod, assuring, “Yeah. No. I won’t.”

But Adrien could see the way Nino tensed around Lila, how he clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes whenever she invaded Adrien’s personal space or asked him to do things for her.

The week was rough and already wearing Adrien down by the end of it.

He felt sick with guilt over hurting Marinette and sick with fear about when Nino was going to crack and spill the beans. That wasn’t even taking into account the hell Lila was putting him through.

Lila was steadily getting worse. She was growing bolder with her public displays of affection to the point where Adrien was genuinely uncomfortable.

The casual touches and the expectation of cheek kisses had quickly crossed the line. More than anything, he was sick of the sensation of Lila clinging to him. The constant contact and her weight and her warmth made his skin crawl. He couldn’t wait for evening to come so his personal space could be his own again to share (or not share) as he saw fit.

Adrien had always been a little touch-starved, but, now, physical contact was something he found himself recoiling from, sometimes even with Marinette.

On the third day, Lila made Adrien move to the back of the class to sit with her, and it was torture to be separated from his friends. Classes had been a brief reprieve from Lila’s presence, an oasis where he didn’t have to think about her for hours at a time, but, now, even that solace was stolen from him.

He missed passing notes with Nino and the little sweets his best friend would often share.

Adrien had considered it a victory when, the previous year, he’d convinced his father to allow him to eat lunch at school with his friends. Now, he found himself wishing he could go home for lunch again because Lila had gotten it into her head that she needed to sit on Adrien’s lap and that they needed to feed one another to show what a lovey-dovey couple they were.

Adrien was quickly finding that he had little appetite during the day. He scarfed down leftover baked goods from Tom and Sabine’s as well as whatever the Dupain-Chengs had for dinner in the evenings when he visited Marinette, but he couldn’t keep much down during the day.

The smell of Lila’s cloyingly sweet floral perfume made him feel nauseated.

He wasn’t sure how much more he could take, but he was certain that something had to give, and soon.

He was afraid it was going to be him.

Adrien was at his breaking point, so maybe that’s why, when Ladybug asked what was wrong that Sunday on patrol, he gave in so easily and spilled his guts to her.

[amimons]

Miraculous Sweet-ember (Sept. 30th)

September 30th: Chat Blanc, Félix, & Ladybug

Chat Blanc emotionally scarred all of us I think we can all agree to that. Everything we could’ve hoped and feared for was wrapped in this heart-aching episode. We’ve seen a possible outcome for a premature one-sided reveal which leads to the end of the world. After Adrien saw Ladybug place a gift for him in his room with an attached note from Marinette he instantly put two and two together. We all joke that Adrien is oblivious but in reality, once he gets the puzzle pieces he puts everything together rather quickly. Not only did he put together that Ladybug was Marinette he also knew that meant he was the boy she loved. Discovering that Ladybug was Marinette and in love with him brought him an immense amount of joy. He was basically on cloud 9. He ran off to confess to Marinette his love for her but made sure not to disclose to her he found out her secret identity. And then they finally dated yay!...until his father ruined it. Gabriel being his usual unpleasant self made Marinette break up with Adrien so he can manipulate her into being akumatized. 

Adrien wasn’t going to just let Marinette go so easily so as he went after her he saw an akuma making its way over to her. He knows she is Ladybug so the threat of her getting akumatized was even greater so he transformed of Marinette revealing himself to her...and Nathalie. The two heroes without seeing how discovered Hawkmoth’s identity...which lead to Chat finding his unconscious mother...and...eventually him being akumatized bring the end of the world. Chat Blanc is a cautionary tale of revealing information too suddenly. It’s neither of their faults for the destruction of the world but because the timing was off. Information was being withheld it caused the communication between the two to be incomplete. Their relationship was a good and happy one but because their added responsibilities of being a hero and having a supervillain trying to defeat them it adds complications normal relationships don’t have. So they have to be cautious not to let things slip up too suddenly. Chat Blanc was a great example of why we should take their secret identities more seriously and not get frustrated as to why they cannot share them yet. At least with Chat Blanc we had confirmed information that Adrien does suppress feelings for Marinette deep down, that Gabriel will do whatever it takes to get the miraculous even harming his son and that Marinette and Adrien would be happy together.  

Félix was about Adrien’s trouble-making cousin who happens to look a lot like him. It’s also the first time we’ve seen relatives of Adrien on the show with Félix being from his Mom’s side of the family with his mother Amelie Graham de Vanily who is Emilie’s twin sister. Both Adrien and his cousin can relate to losing parents but how they were shaped by their loss is a lot different than one another. Adrien sees the best in people and wants to make friends. Unlike Adrien, Félix is mischievous and has malintent with his interactions with others. As soon as he got to the Agreste mansion he was already trying to ruin Adrien’s reputation and steal Gabriel’s ring. Through Félix and Adrien we saw how grief can impact people in different ways. 

When Félix pretended to be Adrien his goal was to make all Adrien’s friends hate him after making mean comments to them. This made Alya, Juleka, and Rose become reakumatized and go after Adrien (who was Félix) as revenge for what he has said to everyone. Ladybug who already thought something was off with ‘Adrien’s’ (aka Félix’s) video message went to save him from the akumas. When the rescue was completed she was ready to go back intake them on that's when Félix tried to pressure her into a kiss. Even though she was uncomfortable he still cornered her in and tried to land a smooch. But then the greatest thing happened...Ladybug told him all about consent and punched him right in the face. A great thing to see. Seriously consent is extremely important and Félix was crossing major boundaries. Adrien never would behave in such a way so it was also very telling her that this isn’t Adrien. Ladybug punching a man who was not taking no as an answer was very empowering and I’m glad a younger audience will see this and understand that if someone is making you uncomfortable then you don’t need to put up with it.

Ladybug was another intense, jam-packed episode. It focuses on Lila’s lies, Marinette’s near akumatization, and exploring the depths of sentimonsters. We saw the alliance between Gabriel and Lila in action and the extremes Lila would go to get Marinette's reputation ruined. We finally started to understand why Hawkmoth was so hellbent on akumatizing Marinette. People view her as a good and trustworthy person that it would cause a lot of emotional response if she ever did a bad deed. Alya stuck by her friend and tried to investigate who would’ve framed Marinette. Adrien with such intensity threatened Lila to leave Marinette alone and forced her to clear Marinette’s name. It was also confirmed that Marinette’s akumatization would be a justice theme and seeing her be almost successfully akumatize was a big moment.

With Mayura we saw that it was possible to recreate human life with the Peacock miraculous which was showing this miraculous in its most powerful form. She created another Ladybug to trick Chat Noir so she can take the miraculous from him. This took such a huge physical toll on Natalie and just added more curiosity about what could’ve Emilie used the peacock miraculous for. We discovered that even though sentimonsters are real human beings they act and experience feelings just like humans. The deep insight on how sentimonsters operate was very intriguing and it was cool to see that through a Ladybug version. Hawkmoth also made another appearance after discovering Mayura was off on her own giving us another in-person battle with our heroes. This confrontation ended up being a showdown between Hawkmoth who was holding on to Chat Noir and Ladybug who was holding onto Mayura. We saw that Ladybug valued Chat’s safety over the peacock miraculous and Hawkmoth valued Mayura’s safety over cat miraculous. It was a good faceoff and I’m looking forward to more of them in the future.

About Sweet-ember:

For the month of September I wanted to spread some positivity and praise Miraculous Ladybug on the things I’ve appreciated/enjoyed from the show.

Everyday I’m going to select one particular moment, event, theme, etc. from an episode of Miraculous and shared what I liked from that episode. Each post will discuss 2-3 episodes (from season 1-3; 78 episodes in total).

Whether its something big or small there is something positive that I can take away from every single episode of Miraculous.

Please feel free to add a moment from these particular episodes that you loved to this post as well!

Salt towards the show, characters, ships will not be tolerated!

Sweet-ember posts

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17]

[18] [19] [20] [21] [22] [23] [24] [25] [26] [27] [28] [29] [30] [31]

[cupcakemolotov]

Fall With You

I ended up pinch hitting for the exchange! It was fun, if slightly wild 48 hours to put this together. Written for the lovely @queencarolinemikaelson​. I’m really glad you enjoyed it since it ended up being a fluff fest of roommate co-hab. Also a big thank you to @bellemorte180​ for putting this graphic together!

I put the first but under a cut, bit under a cut, but the full story is almost 9K, so the link to the story is at the bottom. :)

Summary: When life throws her a curve ball in the form of her good looking, yet moody roommate, Caroline takes it in stride as best she can. Her living situation was a favor, after all, and rent is anything but cheap in NYC. Its the part where she actually starts to like him that she can't quiet figure out how to manage. Lust was one thing, but feelings? 

Warnings: Alternate Universe; Alternate; Universe - Human; Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates; Minor Character Death; not otp; Family Drama; Family Dynamics; Fluff and Humor; Domestic Fluff; Tooth-Rotting Fluff; Mild Smut; Human Caroline Forbes; Human Klaus Mikaelson; Living Room Picnics; Wine; Dates That Aren't Dates; They Could Really Get Their Shit Together Faster; but not really; Making Out; Some petting; NSFW just to be safe            

It was almost three am, her feet were killing her, and her key was stuck in her front door.

Seriously, what was with her luck today? The door had always been finicky, but until earlier this week the lock had been behaving itself. It’d gone from not wanting to turn properly to straight up mutiny in four days. It was an easy fix, unlike the door, but it also required a trip to the store and she just hadn’t had time. Amazon could have delivered the powdered graphite, but she was on a budget and believed in shopping local.

Her two year savings plan to finish her degree would not manifest itself if she bought things simply because they were convenient.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Caroline seriously considered just leaning up against the door jam and spending the night outside. It was early summer, and the air had cooled to a balmy sixty-five degrees, leaving the usually stifling hallway almost comfortable. If only she didn’t smell so heavily of beer. Shifting her weight, she winced as her shoes squelched, a reminder of the truly spectacular ending to her night. Her eight hour shift had almost doubled when the night shift manager had called in sick. Usually that wouldn’t have been a problem, but the only other person with keys was out of town leaving Caroline holding the bag to close.

She knew from experience that she had about an hour before she crashed, the rush from kicking out the lingering guests who had been clearly on an epic brawl crawl having mostly faded after the hour long subway ride home. Right then, the only thing keeping her upright was the fact that she was starving, her dinner had been rushed and only half eaten, and the knowledge that if she made it into her apartment she had the next two days off. Tomorrow she could sleep in, and if she was really lucky, her roommate’s night had gone well enough he could be coaxed into making pancakes.

Cheered by the thought, Caroline dug out her cell phone from the backpack she’d slung over her shoulder and checked it for a response. She hadn’t been sure if Klaus had beaten her home or if he was still out celebrating, but either way, he hadn’t bothered to respond yet. Her lips compressed into a thin line.

Usually, she could depend on Klaus to be awake when she finished a night shift, her roommates' hours were only reliable on how sporadic they were and depending on her schedule, hers weren’t much better. But with his big event tonight, she had no idea what he had decided to do. Honestly, would it kill the man to respond to her texts?

She’d expected him to ignore her rapidly typed apology and well wishes she’d sent in-between bites of food. Klaus wasn’t particularly good at handling sentiment of any kind and supremely anti-emoji, and she’d made a point to send several of them. She’d hoped it’d give him something to be annoyed about that wasn’t his evening plans. He needed to schmooze, and a scowl-y Klaus would not accomplish that at all.

He could be charming, when he wanted to be. She’d seen it. He just didn’t deploy full dimples unless he wanted something. Her reminders the night before that he needed to earn his half of the rent without getting carpal tunnel hadn't impressed him.

Too bad. She’d been right, and he’d known it.

He had mentioned a couple of his friends were trying to talk him into drinks afterwards, back when she had thought she might be able to join him. Usually, she would be thrilled that he was getting out and actually seeing people instead of trying to live off granola bars and tea. But right then she really wanted him to be home and grumpy so he could unlock the door. She wondered if texting Marcel with an S.O.S would be rude?

Things were a lot less complicated when she only liked Klaus for the rent he helped cover. Wanting him home, even just for a lock-related emergency wasn’t a thought she would have had even six months ago. Klaus was not what one would label as a comfortable roommate for most of the time. He was far too prickly for that, and he could be snarly in the mornings. Which fair, so could she, but the moodiness. Caroline hadn’t been one to spend much time around the art scene, either at Uni or in high school, but she’d spent the last year learning that there was a lot to be said about artistic temperaments, most of it unflattering.

She was fairly certain Klaus had been born a contrary grump, his winning personality had nothing to do with his chosen profession, she could certainly see how he’d been drawn to the lifestyle, talent aside. Most people immediately laughed off his acerbic tongue once they learned he was an artist, his behavior brushed aside as temperamental. His goods certainly helped his cause, and his accent added a layer of charm that otherwise might not have existed.

She was not so forgiving.

The first few months of their co-hab had not been easy. Klaus was messy, absent minded, and had ruined three of her towels with paint splatter before she’d blown her lid. The apartment was small enough that avoiding each other was nearly impossible, and her preferred kind of stress relief had to be timed for when she was alone, and so they’d been forced to deal with their annoyances. To Klaus’ credit, while he’d been snappish in return, he’d somehow managed to keep a lid on the worst of his temper.

They’d argued, multiple times, they were both stubborn and used to being right, but they’d eventually found some kind of middle ground. Snapping had softened into bickering, and Caroline had stopped nitpicking him about his notebooks being spread across the house and the incorrect way he rolled his toothpaste, and he stopped leaving towels on the floor and made a point to contain his absentminded mess to his room.

And then they started to talk, sometimes about work, sometimes about art, and she’d realized she kind of liked him as a person. She’d started dragging him to her group lunches on her days off, much to Rebekah’s despair, and they might have become something like friends. Except for the part where every so often, she’d look at him and something about the way he stood, the angle of his jaw or the line of his throat left her wanting to jump his bones.

It was really frustrating, when her existence didn’t even seem to phase him.

So she’d done her best to ignore whatever that little spark was between them when it flared up, and not upset the status quo. Because the past year had been better than she could have imagined. Before her mom had died, she would never have considered the life she found herself living now as a good one.

She’d just wrapped her third year at NYU, had exactly 24 hours of classes left before graduation, and had managed to wrangle her schedule so that her final semester would be a cake walk of classes. The cherry on top had been the kick ass internship she’d lined up for the summer. Her five year plan was perfectly on track, her excellent grades gave her a shot at graduating with honors, and she couldn’t wait to show her mom around New York City from the eyes of a local. She’d spent three years putting together a binder, collecting menus from her favorite places to eat and brochures from all the museums and the jam packed tourists locations to offer her mom some variety.

Then she’d gotten that phone call that had thrown everything into a tale spin.

Blowing out a breath, Caroline bounced on her toes and debated best her course of action. She could probably get her key out of the lock if she was very careful, though the past twenty minutes said her luck wasn’t great, Forbes women were nothing if not stubborn, but there was also a chance she would break the key off in the lock and she could already see the little smirk on Klaus’ face if she did. Her hand tightened on the strap of her backpack. He still hadn’t forgiven her for being far more comfortable with power tools than he was and her perfectly reasonable gloating probably hadn’t helped much, if she was honest.

She kind of didn’t regret it. Poking Klaus sizable ego was a favorite past time of hers, and he seemed to enjoy their back and forth as much as she did. Her mental tally had her up two points this month, and she wanted to keep her lead.

Unfortunately, things weren’t really going in her favor just then. Sighing, Caroline tucked her phone back into her bag and admitted defeat. She’d have to figure this one out herself. Either Klaus’ event had run long and he had actually taken her advice to schmooze people or he was home and had drunk enough that he was sleeping like the dead.

Either of those options would not help her now.

Her best bet now was to go and eat a giant piece of pie, drink her weight in caffeine, and trudge her way to the little mom and pop shop that sold a little of everything, including graphite, once it became a reasonable hour. She’d fix her lock and then crash for the following eight hours of hopefully uninterrupted sleep, and leave a very pointed sticky note on the coffee pot so Klaus knew not to disturb her.

Satisfied with the makings of her plan, she shifted her backpack to her other shoulder, mentally reviewing the pie menu, and paused when the elevator dinged from behind her. Sliding her teeth between her lip, Caroline turned and blew out a breath when she recognized the tumble of ruffled curls stepping into the hall. The hallway was dimly lit, so it took a moment for her brain to really understand what else she was seeing.

Klaus was wearing a tux.

Logically, she’d known he was going to be wearing one. His event that night had been important, his work had finally made it into a gallery tonight and it was a Big Deal. His first real show outside of the fancy art school he had attended, and he had spent months fretting over his work and brooding silently in his room as nothing met his incredibly exacting standards. Klaus had even brought home a couple of canvas to work in the questionable light of his bedroom instead of the small studio space he and five other artists pooled their money to share.

Much to her annoyance.

No amount of febreeze really removed the scent of acrylics and turpentine, and she’d been worried if she tried to burn her stash of scented candles something would catch on fire. She’d held her tongue though, because Klaus was never nervous. He was in fact annoyingly difficult to rattle even in the most ridiculous of situations, the man had absolutely no shame, and the way he’d almost jittered had been weird and kind of enduring. Since he’d seen her in numerous states of frantic and alarmed, it was nice for things to end up on a little more even ground for once. She’d done her best to force him to eat something that looked like actual food every so often, and tried to stay quiet when she knew he was working in his bedroom.

She’d even helped him pick out the tuxedo from the catalogue he’d brought home from the store he had planned to rent from. There was a fancy evening gown that she’d rented hanging in her closet that Caroline had planned to wear to go with him before work had made that impossible. But knowing all that, and actually seeing him in that tux were not nearly the same thing.

Caroline blinked rapidly. Her paint speckled roommate, with his surly attitude and annoying dimples, was wearing a tux. And he looked really, really good. He’d undone his tie so it hung loosely around his neck, and his jacket was loose and unbuttoned around his waist, his curls still somewhat tamed along his forehead. Something very much like arousal jolted through her as he looked up, the low light highlighting the scruff along his jaw and the length of his neck. For a moment, he just stared at her, as surprised as she and then his head tipped and his brow arched, lips tugging up at the corners.

“Waiting on me?”

The rest can be found here: A03

[aiikawarazu]

Hourglass Chapter #22

Title: Blue & Grey

Rated: M

Summary: Blue was the color of ocean. Grey was the color of sky in winter. In March of that year, before the cold winter melted into spring, these group of adolescents at the very center of this story experienced love, pain, heartbreak, and joy. Life was a series of choices, after all. And it was as mysterious as it could be.

FFNet here || AO3 here (AO3 is late update)

Disclaimer: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin

In March of that year, Armin found a ring.

Ymir lost her job, while Historia got a letter.

In March of that year, Ayako finally fell in love, while Mikasa fell into despair.

But for a short while, in March, they had all experienced happiness in various sorts of ways.

March was the moment which witnessed many strange happenings. Some bonds were broken, while others were strengthened. At the beginning, no one could have seen how these seemingly random events were all connected, but then again, perhaps none of them were a coincidence.

Even months, and years after that, Mikasa still sometimes thought to herself – what would happen if she had chosen to do things differently?

If she had given a different answer, would things turn out the way did?

Or, was everything a predetermined setup from the beginning, flowing in one direction towards the inevitable outcome?

If only she had the answer to that.

It was a tale in the strange city of Shiganshina – when the weather was about to turn from piercing cold to warm, when the icy winter was about to give away into spring. Along with the coming of spring, these adolescents in the very center of this story had also melted away their youths into maturity.

It had all started on one chilly winter afternoon, when Armin picked up a lost ring.

- Winter Flower: Daffodil -

At first, Armin wasn't really sure whose ring it was. As usual, he was on his way home from school to the train station. Eren and Mikasa were off somewhere together that afternoon. They had been together a lot as of lately and to be honest, Armin knew what's going on between them. There was such subtle openness in the way they were casually behaving in one another's presence now – as though it was just natural for one of them to be with the other, just like the waves and the sea being of one existence. It was as if they had known each other for all their lives, even those hellish months full of fights and misunderstandings in September last year up to this January now felt like something that had happened a long, long time ago, probably from another lifetime. Indeed, life was as mysterious as it could be – a lot of things were set in motion after he met Eren and Mikasa, and the rest was history.

If only Armin knew, that him walking these streets today was also history in the making. Life was a series of choices, after all.

He was walking in a hurry in an attempt to catch the next train in five minutes – when suddenly he felt his foot kick a peculiar object on the side of the pavement. The small sound of metal clink brought the object to his notice. The circular thing glistened a little under winter sunlight, rolled half a meter away before losing balance and fell sideways, circling a few times before it finally settled down on the ground. Armin frowned. Carefully, he made a few steps to approach the object and slowly picked it up, feeling curiosity rising inside him.

A ring.

He turned the object in his hands. It was a modest ring, made out of metal and silver. Judging from the color, it was certainly not a new one. It had been worn out due to age – but at the same time, this ring was beautifully polished, proof that the owner was taking a good care of it despite of its age. If it was such an important thing – the owner must be looking for it now.

Armin ran his fingers on the outer circle. The size was small, the owner was probably a woman. He tried to turn it around for more clues. Could this ring belong to someone in Shiganshina North? It could be. After all, all the students had to travel past this road if they wanted to reach the station. And Armin knew that for a fact, a lot of students went to school by train.

If this belongs to a student – I could easily give it at school, Armin thought. He tried to look for name engravings, and his eyes glistened in silent triumph when he finally found it. There, on the inside of the ring, was engraved the name of a person, most likely the owner of that ring, in cursive letters.

Annie L.

"Annie…" Armin brows furrowed at the name. He was plunged deep in thought for a few seconds. The name seemed to ring a strange bell in his brain – he had heard that name somewhere… only he couldn't remember it.

Was there a student named Annie in their school? He couldn't recall anyone in his year – but she could be a first or third year. He stood still for a moment, the mysterious ring still intertwined between his fingers. Annie… What if she wasn't a student in his school after all? Shouldn't he be turning this to the police as a lost item?

He tried hard to remember. Every time it seemed like he was so close to remembering, his memories went up and over like thin smokes. He gave out a sigh of frustration. He couldn't let it go.

At that moment, Armin didn't know why he did it. He could have made a detour to the police before resuming his walk to the train station. He could have turned the ring in as a lost item – it was the most sensible thing to do. Armin was usually a pretty sensible person. But this time – just this time, something stopped him from doing it. Probably because he wanted to know who Annie was. Probably because he wanted to find out why exactly she took a really good care of such a modest, old ring. Or probably – because the image of this ring itself had made him curious about the owner.

Whatever the reason was, he squeezed the item carefully inside his hand and slipped it in his pocket. Then, he continued his walk toward the station, as if nothing happened. He had chosen to keep that ring.

- Winter Flower: Plum Blossom -

It was a chilly afternoon indeed. Even though it was March, the temperature was still freezing. Not a weather Jean would have preferred for this activity he was about to carry, but still he couldn't have chosen any other day.

He washed his face with the freezing cold water, turned the tap shut, and faced his expression in the foggy bathroom mirror. He looked scared. Scared, but ready.

"You got this," he said to himself as he slapped both hands to either side of his face. It was an attempt to bring him down to reality, a slap of truth on the face that he needed to have to perform this action. Swiftly he walked out to the bathroom, past the corridors, ran down the stairs, and finally reached the central courtyard.

And there she was, sitting on a bench at the far end of that courtyard. She wasn't looking at him, instead, she was looking upward toward the sky – it was almost as if she was waiting for the skies to open, and snow to fall.

Without wasting any chance, Jean drew in a deep breath and called.

"Mikasa!"

The girl turned to him.

"Jean?" she said, sounding both surprised and confused. He knew why she was behaving that way, of course. He would have to explain it to her.

"Ishijima told me you'd be here."

"Ayako..?" for a moment Mikasa seemed to be processing the fact, until she connected the dots together, and a hint of understanding finally passed on her face.

"She set me up, didn't she?" Mikasa asked, and Jean nodded, looking a bit guilty. "Yeah… I kinda… asked her a favor," he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Sorry for that."

Mikasa drew a long sigh and shifted uncomfortably on the bench, deliberately not looking at the boy standing before him. This air, this awkwardness and tension between them… she knew where this was going and she didn't like it. Damn it, Ayako. Why would she set her up like this? She already knew what's going to happen anyway.

"I just… I have something to say to you," she heard Jean say, and suddenly, her chest seemed to weigh a ton. She drew in another long, deep sigh and closed her eyes.

This was exactly the roots of all trouble, the beginning of it all. All the hurricane that seemed to turn her school life upside down had started from here. It was so simple really, just one event, and one wrong decision from her side.

But that one decision had branched into another mistake, and then another one, and… soon it had developed into a web caused by her series of bad decisions that slowly entangled her and trapped her inside. If there was one thing she did not understand back then when she rejected Jean, it's the fact that what happened between two persons were never only about the two of them.

She had thought that what happened between her and Jean was a matter between them both – but it was a clear mistake. It was not, and it never was. There will always be something, someone else – be it Nanako or other people, who were just as interested, as invested emotionally as both of them –in that relationship. These people's feelings would then become intricated, tangled, and as a result – all the emotions came together to cause complications that happened down the road. She was never an expert in interpersonal relationship – she didn't quite know how to deal with human emotions. A single mistake could cause a whole lot of chain reaction, which triggered the other events. But deep down, she might have known that this was an event that was bound to happen. Sh was going to have to face this, no matter what road she chose.

Slowly, slowly, she opened her eyes again to look at Jean. It took almost all of her to not run away from the spot. Jean looked conflicted, there was a lot of emotions on his face that she couldn't name. For a while, she thought of a way she should end this, in the least painful way possible, but then there was something on his eyes that just left her in a quiet reservation.

His sharp golden eyes spoke neither of hope nor anticipation. Those eyes just spoke of sorrow. They spoke of defeat. Somehow, it was the only emotion that kept her grounded. And in the next moment, she regained her senses back.

"What is it you wanted to tell me?" she asked.

She knew what was coming, she knew she might make another mistake here – just as that time when she rejected Jean but said that they could still be friends, when she accepted his invite but stood him up on their dates, twice – and when she decided to tell Nanako that she knew her feelings for Jean. She knew, and she wanted to offer her support, but Nanako just so mercilessly slapped her hands away, before proceeding to shatter their friendship to pieces. She had made countless mistakes back then – what would happen this time if she made yet another bad decision? When the inevitable happens, what then?

"I want you to know that I've given up on you."

Jean's words prompted Mikasa to look at him in surprise. There was a long silence when she gathered her thoughts, but Jean didn't interrupt her. He was looking at her, but he didn't say anything.

"What?" she opened her mouth, but that was all she could say.

"I give up," Jean repeated. "I give up chasing you, on liking you. I give up trying to make you look at me. I realize… that I am mighty stubborn at times. But I really… I want you to know that… it all ends today. I'm sorry if I ever made you feel uncomfortable before. Sometimes… I just cannot help it. I couldn't control my feelings and I caused you trouble. I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be sorry," she said before she could stop herself. "Jean, you're not at fault. I'm –"

"No, listen to me, Mikasa," he interrupted her gently, and she was silent, only her eyes imploring him to go on.

"I know I haven't got a fair chance on you. Even before Yeager came in… before all this shitstorm happened… I told you how I felt already but I got rejected. I should have given up then but I was too stubborn… I couldn't accept defeat, especially, my pride wouldn't allow me to give in. So… I kept going, over and over to chase you. I did like you but at some point…," he paused. "I realized, it might have been more about my pride than my feelings toward you."

His sorrow was replaced by something else now, a quiet, more subtle emotion. It was resignation.

"So… that's why I'm here today. To admit my defeat. Like I said… it all ends today."

"Jean…," she started, but then stopped. She didn't know what to say. She surely didn't expect any of this, but she was even more surprised that Jean would admit that the real reason he kept chasing her was because he didn't want to lose… because of his pride. For a while, she wanted to say sorry – sorry for all the things she did to him, for rejecting him and getting him entangled in her mess… It was almost at the tip of her tongue, but then, another word came up.

"Thank you, Jean," she said quietly. She could see his eyes widened in surprise. "For telling me this," she elaborated. "Thank you."

There was a speck of relief in his eyes. He was not sure how he expected her to take this – to be honest, he was actually prepared for feeling even worse, to admit a crushing defeat, but her words of gratitude set a huge burden off his chest.

"Well I guess…," he said to fill in the long stretch of uneasy silence between them, "I guess I should… thank you too." He shot her an awkward smile, which she returned just as nervously. Again, she heaved a deep sigh, and shot an upward glance.

"It's too cold here, we should –" but at that time, something caught her attention.

"It's blooming," she said almost in a whisper.

"Pardon?" asked Jean, clearly not following her. She pointed upwards, toward the tree branches that stretched above the park bench she had sat on earlier. "The flowers," she said. He followed her finger, and immediately understood what she meant.

When he found her earlier, she wasn't looking at the sky. She wasn't expecting the sky to open, or a heavy snowfall. She was probably looking upwards at these.

"Plum blossom," the said both in unison, and stared at each other in surprise.

"You didn't strike me as someone who knew about flowers," she commented, her surprised expression had changed into a somewhat soft smile.

"I guess… there are some things you might not know about me," Jean shrugged and answered rather bashfully. "I can see why you are excited, though," he shot an upwards glace again at the plum blossom buds, which had begun to blossom silently in the cold weather. "It takes a while for them to bloom this year."

"They bloom in the most adverse weather," he heard her say. "In the coldest winter climate – they survive and blossom. Don't you think it's amazing?" He stared at her face, which had softened considerably. She was still silently admiring the early blooms. He could sense a somewhat deeper meaning behind her words, but he couldn't dare to probe.

"I agree," he said finally. "People say flowers are weak because they live only for a short while, but for sure they're stronger than us. I mean… look at us now." He suddenly realized that he had been shivering. It was damn cold. "Listen, it's been a good talk, but we should probably go inside, yeah? Let's not catch cold."

Mikasa laughed. It was probably the first time ever that Jean was able to make her laugh, and he was taken aback.

"You were the one who asked to meet me here," she said. "Idiot."

Wow. That's two times she made him surprised today. The entire time he knew her, she never used any kind of bad words, even those that people normally considered as mild profanities.

"You have changed," he commented. Only after seeing her look of surprise did he realize that he had been saying it out loud… yet again. He covered his mouth in embarrassment. Him and his big mouth. One of these days, he should really learn to control it. But since he already said it anyway….

"Is it Yeager?" he asked. For a long while, Mikasa didn't speak. Her hand jumped to the red scarf she always had around her neck. It was just lately that she began wearing it, Jean had never seen her with it earlier, and yet, these days she was almost never seen without it. Mikasa tightened the scarf nervously, burying her lower face in it. Jean could still see her face glowing with hint of scarlet. Her reaction had said it all.

"Alright, I won't ask again," he said, sounding resigned. He was somewhat satisfied to have found his answer, though it did hurt a bit. But he had known this for a long while, so what difference did it make? He considered her again carefully, and speak, from the bottom of his heart this time.

"You look happier these days, Mikasa. I'm happy for you."

Beneath her scarf, Mikasa silently thanked him with a grateful smile.

***

"So? How did it go?" Jean just slipped his uniform open to change it with a T-shirt for a drama club practice, when a voice made him turn.

"Ishijima!" he yelled. "This is boys' locker room."

"You know no one cares about that rule," said Ayako, walking leisurely toward him and sitting on the bench nearby. "What did Mikasa say?"

"No – still, this is invasion of privacy, you know."

"What did Mikasa say?" Ayako asked again, more urge in her voice this time. Jean sighed.

"What else could she say? And just so you know, I did not confess. I went there to tell her that I'd give up on chasing her."

"Oh –" this came as a surprise to Ayako. Then, after a slight pause, "Jean… I'm so sorry."

"Don't be – it was my decision." He finished putting on a T-shirt and closed his locker with a clank. "And if anything… I was wrong about her." Ayako looked curious at this statement.

"About what?"

"Well," Jean sent her a sideways glance before continuing. "How should I say it… I think she's changed. The old Mikasa that I knew… she was beautiful but so cold, you know? It was like she never had life instilled in her. But these days, she's more… lively. I mean.. she called me an idiot for having her to meet me outside in the cold." Ayako burst out laughing.

"You probably deserved," she said. "Were you surprised?"

"Took the life out of me," Jean replied sarcastically. "It was Yeager after all… right?" he directed this question at Ayako, who only replied with a discreet smile.

"So you don't want to answer too? Damn it," Jean sighed. "Anyway, I'm over her now, I just wish her plenty of happiness." He shrugged, and began to walk toward the exit.

"You know, Jean..," he could hear Ayako call him from behind, but his words exploded before he could help it.

"I know… I sound like a loser, don't I?"

I wish you plenty of happiness was a bunch of bullshit. It took him a lot of courage to say that. To swallow his own pride, his own feelings for her, and to admit that he would bow out gracefully and declare defeat. It was a defining moment where he decided that he should never look at her again with a different feeling other than friends.

And still, in that damn little corner of his mind, there was a small voice that never wanted to shut up.

I wish you all the happiness. But when will I get my own happiness?

"Don't say that," said Ayako, rising up from the bench. She walked nearer to him, and sent a gentle squeeze on his arm. "How about… a consolation date?"

Jean turned, and regarded the brown-haired girl with a surprised look.

"What?"

"I'm free this Saturday," she said playfully. "So… let's have a date." Jean blinked a few times.

"Are you… are you joking, or…?"

"Really…. Are you seriously going to hurt a girl's feelings after I ask you out like this?" Ayako crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Are you free this Saturday, or not?"

"I –" It took a while for Jean to process her question. She really was serious.

"Of course. I'm free," he finally relented.

"Great!" she broke into a smile, and Jean was taken aback. For a split second, with smile lighting up her face, Ayako did look positively lovely. "Let's decide where to go later after practice then. See you!"

And with that, she trotted out of the locker room, leaving Jean in stunned silence.

- Winter Flower: Camellia -

"You can't do this," Ymir said, half in desperation, as she stared to the person standing in front of her – who returned her plea with a very cold expression.

"I'm sorry."

"No!" Ymir screamed. "What are you saying… you can't just – up and fire someone like that, you know? I'm – I'm the longest employed staff here, I never come late to work, never caused any trouble, why… why are you doing this?"

"Like I said," the staff who stood before her repeated with the same cold, bored expression. "This is boss's decision."

"Then let me talk to boss!"

"No use. That's why he wanted me to talk to you instead."

Ymir clenched her fists, her breath hitched up her throat in frustration. "I've got bills to pay, Takagi-san," she said, trying to keep her voice down, "You know I live alone, you know how my situation is, right? The boss knows too! Why are you doing this to me?"

"Business isn't exactly easy these days," Takagi replied with a sour smile.

"And so is my life!" Ymir's voice rose again. "If you fire me, I won't have any source of income, how… how am I supposed to live?" she clutched the front of her shirt, trying very hard to keep her emotions in check. "Are you telling me to go out there and die, Takagi-san?"

"Enough!" Takagi raised his voice too now. "The boss has already done enough for you, Ymir! Don't you realize it? We're employing an underage kid here, in a bar! We falsified your age and thanks to the boss, we never got discovered though we've come pretty close to it many, many times! Who do you think covered for your ass all those times?" Ymir looked away in guilt. It was true, the boss was the only one who took her in and employed her here despite her being underage after hearing about her situation. Thanks to that, she was able to cover for her rent, bills, and tuition for school. If not for the boss' kindness, she would be wasting away out there in the street since a long time ago.

"You should be in the social service, not here," Takagi told her, and Ymir eyed him with deep resentment. "I'm saying the truth," he said, not wavering under Ymir's look of profound distaste. You are underage, you are still in school. You shouldn't be working here. After shift is over today, pack your things." Ymir didn't say anything, she only looked down with her fists still clenched. Takagi sighed, then slowly put his arms on Ymir's shoulders.

"You need to be where you belong, Ymir."

She shook his hands away. "What do you know about where I belong?" She shot back sharply, her eyes glistened of fury, but also of tears. "In the end, you're just trying to make yourself feel good about this decision, aren't you? You kicked me out, and now I won't have money to survive! What a bunch of bullshit, saying you do this for my sake!" she shouted bitterly, and slammed her fist to her locker door in her anger outburst. She ignored Takagi's hurtful and surprised expression. Why was he the one acting like he's hurt – when clearly she was the one being kicked out here?

"If you want me out, fine! I don't need until the end of this shift. I'll get out now!" She grabbed her bag and her coat, and dashed to the exit, eyes blinded by tears. She felt angry, but more than that – she felt miserable. Once again, someone she thought she knew had betrayed her trust. Once again, she was left with no place in this world.

***

A sound of broken glass from her sister's room alarmed Frieda Reiss. She ran upstairs, and immediately knocked on her bedroom door.

"Historia?" she asked worriedly, "What happened? Are you alright?" after a few seconds of tense silence, she was relieved to finally hear her sister reply.

"Yes… I'm fine."

Her voice sounded a bit shaky and Frieda raised her eyebrows, looking unconvinced.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes… I'm sorry, I'm just a little bit tired. I knocked over the cup when I was moving some stuff," she answered again. Then, after a slight pause, "I'll clean this up immediately and go to sleep, I'm sorry…"

"That's fine," Frieda said. "Do you need any help?"

"No… I'm alright. Thank you," she said politely.

"If you say so," Frieda said, and she began to walk away from her sister's door. Inside, Historia waited until she heard her sister's footsteps going away down the stairs, then sighed in relief. Hurriedly, she gazed down to the letter in her hand. It looked like an ordinary, simple letter. The envelope had an ivory hue, the thickness indicated that it was of good quality. It might have passed for a wedding invitation, had it not been for the wax seal on the front of the envelope bearing an intricate capital letter 'R'. Once Historia saw the wax symbol, she knew who that letter was from, and that's practically why she dropped the cup she was holding on the other hand.

She glanced at the sender's name scribbled on the bottom right of the envelope, her heart racing when she saw the name.

Rod Reiss.

- Snow Flower -

Armin lay on his bed, his hair still damp from shower, carefully holding up the ring he just found back in the afternoon between the thumb and index finger of his right hand.

Annie.

He knew he had heard that name somewhere. He tried racking his brain, tried searching the internet for it – for an Annie that lived in Shiganshina, but there were too many results that he couldn't possibly dig in one by one.

Was he behaving stupid right now? What if the owner was frantically searching for her lost ring? Why didn't he just turn it in to the police station?

Maybe tomorrow I should just wait for the owner to show up near the place I found this ring, Armin thought. She will show up, and I can tell her I found this yesterday and decided to keep it.

Armin didn't know when he fell asleep. He was pretty tired, he didn't even wake up when his grandfather knocked on his door, found his grandson fast asleep, then turned off the lamp. However, just a few hours after, he suddenly he found himself wide awake. He didn't know exactly what woke him up. Floating between his consciousness, he sent a quick glance at the bedside table, and found that it was past 2 in the morning. Armin lay back down and tried to go back to sleep, but suddenly, a strange voice was ringing on his ears.

Annie… what are you doing here?

Eren's voice. Where did he her it before?

Armin tried to focus. Then, the memories came to him all at once.

That breezy autumn day in October, when Eren had just moved to Shiganshina North High, Armin had walked to the school front gate and found a female student waiting for Eren. Blonde hair, icy blue eyes, pale face as pretty as an ocean in winter. She gave him chills when she spoke.

Her name was… Annie.

***

"No."

"Please, please please… can we just ride the Takabisha one more time?"

"Hell no! My life was flashing before my eyes during that ride, you know?"

"Exactly! That's why it's so fun, right?"

"Stop it."

"Oh come on… just once? After the steep drop it wasn't too bad."

Jean regarded the girl standing before him, who was practically bubbling with excitement, jumping up and down, trying to get him to ride the Takabisha one more time with her. He sighed, then sent a dark look over the towering figure of that coaster, which rose straight up toward the sky from the ground level to 43 meters in height. Why would anyone design something so incredibly evil, Jean would never know. Not only it was high, they had to drop the coaster from 42 meters high in a world-record steepest angle of 121 degrees, took them through multiple twists and turns, going from 0 to 100 km per hours in only 2 seconds, before finally stopping in the finish line. It was only roughly a minute ride, but it was enough to scar Jean for a lifetime. He could painfully feel all the regrets in life coming back to him during the ride – and couldn't be more relieved when it was over.

But Ayako seemed to think otherwise. When she said she wanted to go on the ride again, Jean was struck with horror.

"Must you really pick something so scary?" he asked miserably. "Why can't we… have some normal rides or just…"

"Then how about the Haunted House?" she asked, and Jean's heart sunk. This park's haunted house was famous as a labyrinth modelled after some old, abandoned asylum, in which the visitors were responsible to find their own way out, with no guarantee what kind of ghosts or terrors they would encounter on the way. It was a gigantic attraction, and some visitors even couldn't find the way out for hours.

Something about the combination of being stuck for hours in a dark, scary place, modelled after some abandoned mental hospital really didn't have Jean running enthusiastically for it. No, he didn't even want to go inside, if he could. He sighed.

"Why don't we… just sit here, okay? I'll buy us some coffee." He motioned to a bench near them, and was relieved when Ayako finally nodded okay. "Latte for me," she said, and Jean nodded, quickly making his way to the nearest coffee shop before she changed her mind again and try to get him on another scary ride.

He had known that Ayako was pretty energetic and all, she was always such a contrast to Mikasa's calm and collected demeanor. When she suggested they should have their date at an amusement park, he agreed, thinking that it was a mighty fitting place for her. What he didn't know was – how much she was into scary rides and horror stuff. She breezed through all the stuff like it was nothing, enjoying them even, while he could barely even stomach it. After a drop tower ride, a 360-degree vertical rotation, a pirate ship, and finally, the infamous Takabisha which gave his stomach a dangerous turn he was almost sure he'd throw up his lunch – Ayako asked him to get on the ride one more time with such glimmer in her eyes like she'd just experienced her dream of a lifetime coming true, while he felt like he was on the verge of death.

He couldn't believe her.

Thankfully she agreed on his idea to sit down over a cup of coffee. He would have to think what he'd say to her later when they started moving again, though. Why can't they ride something that will plant their feet on the ground, for once? Jean was determined to not go to another coaster or a haunted house.

"Thank you," she said enthusiastically, retrieving her cup of hot latte from Jean, who proceeded to sit beside her.

"This park is so fun!" she commented. "I'm glad you found it so," Jean muttered darkly. He gazed down at the cup of hot americano he held in his left hand, slightly slouching with both elbows resting on his thighs. His dark tone didn't escape her attention. She raised her eyebrows, then, after a few moments of studying the boy in silence, she spoke.

"You were really scared, weren't you?"

Jean turned to face her. She sounded curious, but he saw a look of genuine concern in her face. He had to turn away quickly then, for the sight of her bright hazel eyes and blossoming pink cheeks were suddenly too much for him to bear.

"I'm sorry. I got too overexcited."

He heard her speak, and he blinked. Ayako looked a bit sheepish. "I was so excited to finally come here – I wanted to try everything so I just dragged you without thinking. I'm sorry… I was inconsiderate."

"No, don't apologize," Jean cut in quickly, as he felt his guilt sank in. "I mean I – I should be the one to…" he stuttered out, feeling devastated at her words. He couldn't help but mentally slap himself. Damn it! What kind of guy was he? Why couldn't he have handled a few scary rides? She was having so much fun, and he completely ruined it for her.

"There's a reason I want to go here, you know," she said, playing with the latte cup in her hands. It's… um… but, promise you're not gonna be mad?" she eyed him with a look, and he, feeling curiosity had taken over him, simply nodded.

"It's that… extreme rides trigger an experience that releases adrenaline. And Adrenaline helps you forget the bad things easier," she said, and he frowned, not quite getting what she meant.

"Oh God, you are so slow," she laughed, half in desperation. "I want you to have a good time. I want you to make good memories. I thought after everything that's happened… you would need to unwind, relax, and release the tension. That's why… that's why I chose this place. But to be honest, I didn't know you would be scared instead," she twirled her brown locks in her hand, looking somewhat guilty. "Sorry."

"No," Jean started. He didn't know why she would say sorry – he should be sorry instead, for ruining the experience for her, after everything she did to cheer him up. He felt so stupid.

"It takes a while to get used to, these things," she said, and Jean blinked.

"Roller coasters?"

"No, you silly," she laughed. "Moving on from someone you loved."

Her words were met with a stunned silence. She gave out a sigh.

"It's not like it is something that can happen overnight," she said. "People talk as if it's an easy thing to do – but it's not. That's why you shouldn't worry. Just take your own pace, do one thing at a time. And slowly, slowly you will heal." She smiled. "You have to."

He couldn't bring himself to say anything to her. He'd had this thought a few times about Ayako, but it was always just a fleeting thought. After all, he was always too busy paying attention to Mikasa that he never had eyes for anything else. Despite being in the same club, Jean never even had a proper time to converse with her. It was as though this was the first time Jean had really ever seen her. He knew Ayako mostly from the school rumors, she was pretty, goes to blind-date a lot, easy to get laid with and would probably do it for money. She's an easy-win, that's how guys would often call her. There were still various other names that people used to describe her. But it never really captured the essence of her as a person, and this was the first time Jean realized that Ayako, despite everything else that people might call her, really could be considered quite mature and thoughtful for her age.

"It's nice," he said finally, with a relieved smile.

"What is?" she sent him a curious glance, looking at him through the brim of the latte cup, which she was drinking to fill in the empty silence.

"Discovering a new side of someone we thought we knew." This time it was her turn to not follow his words.

"Sorry?"

"I'm talking about you," he said quite humorously. "Ishijima."

"Oh, just drop the formalities," she said. "You can call me Ayako."

"Ayako," he liked the way that name rolled off his tongue.

"Jean," she replied. They looked at each other for a few stunned seconds, then, a hint of smile began to form at the corner of her lips. He didn't know why, but he suddenly found this hilarious also. As he mirrored her expression, his eyes lit up. And the next second, they both burst into laughter.

***

It's not here. It's not here. It's not here

Annie was searching frantically, retracing her steps back from yesterday, turning every stone, every nook and cranny, but still she couldn't find it.

Her ring was gone.

She clutched at her chest with devastation. She had always worn the ring every day, dangling it on a silver chain around her neck, but yesterday, the chain was broken, and she only realized she had lost her ring when she arrived home.

She couldn't sleep that night and couldn't pay attention at all to school the day after. When the fourth period bell rang, she slipped out of class and retraced her steps back, from the train station to the streets she walked to the places she visited, but none of them resulted in any good news. It was almost hopeless, she knew. But she couldn't give up.

She let fatigue overtake her when she finally rested a bit on the way uphill to Shiganshina North High. She was here yesterday, looking for Eren, but she couldn't meet him. She leaned back against the stone wall on the side of the street and slowly sank down, crouching. The cold of winter was biting her cheeks. She was exhausted. She covered her tired eyes with both her hands, sighing in frustration. What would happen if she didn't find that ring? She didn't want to think. She had to find it… she had to. It was the only memento she had left from her father, from their earlier years together.

From their happier years.

"Excuse me," a voice came up, and she burrowed her face deeper in her hands, hoping it would go away.

"Excuse me," the voice repeated, and she ignored it even further. This voice was quite persistent, so annoying….

"Annie," now the voice called her name, and she immediately looked up. A pair of big, blue orbs were staring back at her, those belonging to a boy of her age. Blonde hair was framing his face, and he looked concerned, but relieved. Annie frowned. She remembered him.

"You are Eren's friend," she said, almost matter-of-factly. "How did you know my name?"

"About that…," the boy reached out to his trousers' pocket, and brought out something inside his fist. Slowly, he opened his hand in front of Annie, revealing the object he was holding. The girl immediately let out a gasp, and covered her mouth.

"It's yours… right? I found it yesterday."

She stretched out her trembling hand to pick up her ring from Armin's hand, her breath seemed like it had stopped in her throat all the while. She had almost given up all hope to find it, but here it was now, by some kind of miracle, this boy had somehow returned this ring to her.

She clutched the ring tightly inside her hands and brought it in front of her chest, closing her eyelids so hard and drew in a deep breath to stop tears from pouring out.

"I thought… it might be an important thing for you. That's why I didn't give it to the police," she heard his soft voice, and she slowly looked up again. She was too relieved in finding her ring back, she'd forgotten to even thank him.

"Thank you," she said, genuinely. For a while, her never-ending cold expression was replaced with a smile, which Armin regarded with surprise. She looked completely different when she smiled. And if her frosty eyes were filled with some kind of cool animosity toward him before, now it was more of a quiet, yet still distant, acknowledgement of him.

"You are welcome," said Armin. He returned the girl's smile with a speck of relief. "I'm glad."

She looked surprised. "For what?" she asked.

"Ah, well… I'm just thinking….," Armin paused. Should he say it? But he's rarely ever going to see her anyway, so… might as well take his chance now.

"I just think… you look really nice when you smile."

She looked surprised, but, Armin noted in huge relief, not in a bad way. It seemed she was taken aback at his comment, but it's not in any way unwelcome for her. She stared at him for a few long seconds, before asking.

"What's your name?"

"Armin. Armin Arlelt."

She seemed to think for a while, then…

"If there is anything I can do to thank you, let me know. I'll do it if I can."

Armin hesitated for a while. "There is… one thing I would like to ask then," he said.

"Yes?"

"Do you mind… do you mind to give me your number?"

- Blue Side -

"An Instax?"

"This kind of thing is all over the social media lately. Gives you the kind of retro feels," Armin showed up his brand-new polaroid camera to Mikasa. He had got an Instax Mini 90, a nice and compact polaroid camera with well-polished black faux leather and silver metal body, which, like Armin said, completely gave Mikasa retro vibes.

"Can I try it? I promise not to waste any films," she asked, and he smiled.

"Don't have to worry about it," Armin handed the camera over to her, and she pointed the camera to his direction, capturing him in the viewfinder window.

"Okay, smile," she said. Armin gave her a huge grin, then she clicked.

The camera produced a whirring noise, then the film came out, still looking like a blank piece of paper.

"It's going to take a while to develop," Armin said and she nodded, setting it aside.

"Eren!" she called out to the other boy, now pointing the camera to him. "Look here."

"What?" Eren was laying on his back on a wide space near the window sill, playing with the basket ball that he had somehow snuck out from the sports warehouse. He threw the ball upwards into the air, and caught it as it came back down, sometimes twirling it on the tip of his index finger. He didn't seem to be paying attention to Mikasa or Armin.

"You're going to break something in this lab with that ball soon, I just know it," said Mikasa.

He grinned. "You wish," he said, and continued to bounce the ball upward and caught it mid-air.

"When that happens, I'm not gonna cover up for you, by the way."

"Me either," Armin chimed in.

"Well, why should we meet up in a science lab anyway?" he protested. "There are other safer places I'm sure. Somewhere we're not at risk of breaking things."

"We are not at any risk of breaking things, mind you."

"Yeah, only you are, Eren."

"Also, everywhere else is full. The third years are having their cram period before the exam so we can't use the classrooms. And the home economics lab is locked cause some students from first year blew up a fuse during their cooking practice today."

"Sounds lovely," Eren commented.

"Hold that pose," said Mikasa finally, when Eren just caught the ball for what must have been the hundredth time. He looked at her, questioning, but she already clicked the camera shutter quickly. She pulled out the polaroid film, and set it aside with Armin's, which had turned out nicely.

"Nice lighting," Armin commented. "Nice use of the window light there, Mikasa."

"I'm bored," Eren interjected, finally rising from his place. "Isn't there something we can do?"

"I don't know about you – but I'm broke," said Armin. "Spent all my allowance to buy this camera."

"I don't have that much too," Mikasa commented. "Have to last until the end of the week with what little I got left."

"How much does everyone have?" said Eren. "Let's put them together."

Armin and Mikasa sent a sideways look, but they grabbed their wallets anyway to pull out their remaining pocket money. They didn't have much indeed.

"We can't go very far with these," said Eren, thinking.

"Told you."

"How about just going to that convenience store down the road to grab some cup noodles and hot coffee?" Armin said, and Mikasa was about to agree with his idea, when Eren suddenly cut in.

"No wait… I got a better idea."

***

"Whose brilliant idea was this to go to the ocean in winter?" Mikasa protested through her chattering teeth.

"Shut up, you already agreed to it anyway, so don't protest!" Eren shot back, annoyed.

The three of them now stood on Shiganshina's open coast, having just exited the bus that took them to this place. The bus driver sent them a look as if they were crazy for going to the ocean in this weather, and Mikasa definitely had to agree.

They set out on the descending staircase that brought them all the way to the beach, the freezing wind blew mercilessly all the while, cutting through their skin, and sending chills all the way down to their bones. Mikasa's hair was blown away by the fearless wind, hopelessly tangled now in all direction. Half of her regretted going here, but she knew anyway Eren wouldn't have let her say no to his plans. She had no choice but to go along with him. Once they had descended all the way to the bottom, she began taking out her socks and shoes, while Eren and Armin sent her a look.

"Might as well," she tried to bite back the cold that seemed to seep through her bones. "Go all the way now that we're here."

She put away her bag, socks and shoes, then ran bare-footed toward the ocean to catch the waves. She winced when her toes came into contact with the waves.

"Cold!" she muttered. "Eren, Armin, come on," she waved at them. "Let's have a contest to see who can last longer in these cold waves!"

Eren already took off his shoes and socks and was now running to catch her. Armin was worried about catching a cold, although he couldn't help but follow in his friends' footsteps.

"Shoot! It's so damn cold!" Eren shivered as he stood now with his feet planted in the sand, waves sweeping freely at his feet. Mikasa, who noticed the close distance between them, quietly bent down, scooped a handful of water, and splashed it at him.

"Ouch! Hey, Mikasa? What the hell?"

"That's for making us going to the ocean in winter," she said, her eyes glinting humorously. Then, she ran away before Eren could have got back at her, smiling as she heard his frustrated groan. From the reverberating sounds of footsteps though, she knew that Eren was chasing after her. He could try – he'd run a marathon before she ever let him catch her. Knowing that it was futile, Eren soon stopped his attempt. He paused to catch his breath. Mikasa wasn't called the fastest runner in class for nothing, after all.

"Eren, Mikasa!" Armin called, waving his hand to both of them. He was standing a little way up, closer to the staircase, where waves wouldn't reach him. "Get here, I'm taking your picture." He had his polaroid camera ready in hand.

Mikasa came close, still slightly wary of Eren, wondering if the boy would somehow try to use this chance get back at her. Eren noticed her, then held up a 'peace' sign.

"Let's call it a truce," he said. She frowned. She couldn't trust him at all.

"Get closer!" Armin shouted over the sound of the wind and waves crashing, "You're not even on one frame!"

So – after sending quick glances toward one another, they began to walk closer, and stood side by side. Armin peeked through the viewfinder, and gave a frustrated groan.

"You guys look like an old married couple who's fighting and haven't said anything to each other in weeks," Armin said. "Can't you just be a little more… peaceful?"

At this, Mikasa felt Eren's right hand circled down her waist. Before she had a chance to react, he had jerked her closer, and now they stood side by side without distance, his chest to her back.

"Now?" he asked Armin, almost as calmly as if they were making a commemorative class photograph. Her breath seemed to have stopped in her chest. She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut in.

"Be quiet," he said, locking his eyes with hers with an obvious grin, "Or else I'll kiss."

She could feel the heat radiating from her face upon hearing those words. God – surely this was his way of getting back at her. Despite how they were behaving in private, he knew how reserved she was when they were in front of others – even if that someone other happened to be Armin. She couldn't find any retort to give him, so she just stayed silent and looked down, until Armin shouted at her to look at the camera.

"Much better," Armin grinned in satisfaction, when she finally did. He clicked the shutter before Mikasa could say anything else, and soon he had flicked the undeveloped film inside his hand. He felt rather amused. Just because he knew what's going on between them – didn't mean he shouldn't give them a tease.

He was about to go up to retrieve more polaroid films from his bag, when he suddenly heard a scream from behind him. Alarmed, he quickly looked back. Apparently, Eren had been successful in getting back at Mikasa by splashing her with a handful of cold, freezing water. And now he's got a very angry Mikasa chasing after him. Armin sighed, and continued his climb. He will not be responsible if both of them catch colds tomorrow.

[thepetulantpen]

Out Of Sight, Out Of Mind

(My blind!Geralt fic. I already posted this on my ao3, but I decided to put it up here, too. Enjoy!)

Plenty of boys are blinded in the Trials. It’s the price paid for tampering with vision enhancements, and it almost always ends with more boys dead- succumbing to complications, or put out of their misery.

Geralt is not one of those unlucky few. No, Geralt lived through the Trials- lived through more trials than most- and came out the other side mostly whole. 

So, of course, a fucking Bloedzuiger is what does it.  

Afterwards, he barely remembers the battle. His clearest memory is of getting acid in his eyes, followed closely by him blindly stabbing the damned thing to death and then stomping it into a pulp. In hindsight, it was probably already dead, but he hit it until it stopped making any sounds whatsoever, because he deserved a little overkill when it felt like his face was on fucking fire.

He doesn’t even feel panic in the moment of fading adrenaline. He’s made for survival and killing at the detriment of everything else- he feels nothing as the world fades away, filtering out everything save for the next steps, the next move. Just like a fight.

He finds Swallow by weight and smell, and drags himself towards the sound of a nearby river. Downing the potion and splashing water in his eyes does absolutely nothing, which is frustrating, but he’s not going to fix it by sitting around and cursing Destiny. It’s time to figure out how he’s going to make it to town and find someone competent.

He trips seven times, but finds Roach by her heartbeat. She’s a good horse, a smart horse, and with a bit of urging in the right direction, she follows the path towards the sound of people without issue. 

The healer he finds by smell alone, because he can’t be bothered to ask for directions in this state. It’s not a difficult trail- the potent herbs act like a beacon and Roach keeps them carefully on the road. 

The walk gives him time to acclimate somewhat, pushing through any remaining shock and pain to the calm clarity of a mission, same as any hunt. There’s a world of sound and smell around him, his senses just as strong as they’ve always been- possibly stronger when his attention is not drawn away by sight. It forms a map of sensations, coloring a world gone dark. 

A healer’s hut is in front of him. He can hear the wind- strong today, it was annoying until now- hitting the wooden walls, prompting little creaks of protest. The shape of it becomes clear in the places he hears resistance, the motion of the wind halting, and there is an outline where the wind whistles through the gap between the door and its wall. 

He leaves Roach to her own devices, trusting that she’ll behave, and finds the door, knocking loudly. Louder than necessary, but he thinks he can be excused on account of the spectacular evening he’s had.

The woman who answers- he assumes it’s a woman, based on the length of her hair, which he can hear brushing her shoulders, and the smell of flowery soap- only comes up to his shoulder, the subtle displacement of air giving him her approximate height in a blurry silhouette of awareness. 

“How can I help you, witcher?” She must not have been looking at his face because there’s a second of audible movement and she gasps. “Oh, dear. Come in.”

She takes his arm to guide him, which he probably doesn’t need, but he can’t be bothered to correct her. He’s had a long fucking day, and he’d rather not trip over a dining table, failing his newfound navigating abilities. 

The wet cloth against is skin is shockingly terrible, he feels each individual scratchy fiber. There’s more water on his face, in his eyes, and a smell of herbs that stings his nose. It hits him full force, and when he inhales, trying to identify them, he can practically taste them.

The woman’s heartbeat is loud, saying what her expression might’ve. He’d known that he could hear heartbeats, but had little cause to listen to them before, no reason to do anything but block them out on a daily basis. It takes him a minute to remember the rhythm of a human heart, gauge what’s fast, and decide what that may mean. 

She swallows and Geralt hears that in horrifying detail now that he’s concentrating, now that his senses are scrambling to compensate. 

“I’m not sure there’s much I can do.” 

The careful step process in his mind reaches its end, leaving him without anything to hold onto for a moment, scrambling for calm in the realization that there’s nothing to be done. He pushes down panic with a sigh, willing his mind to clear.

There’s always another step, always something to do. He just needs somewhere to recover, like any other injury. Somewhere safer than the floor of a stable, ideally.

He’ll be making an early return to Kaer Morhen, then.

“Wait,” the healer puts a hand on Geralt’s shoulder as he stands, a low note of concern and fear making her voice shake, “take this. I’ll show you how to use it.”

A wooden cane is pressed into his hands and he has to fight everything in him that protests the idea. Taking a breath, he allows the woman to lead him through the motion- tap, tap. Left, right.

It’s not sustainable- too visible, too obvious. Nobody will hire a blind witcher, but he can keep it strapped to Roach for emergencies.

At least until he figures out how to hear cracks in the ground. 

...

It’s pure luck that he happened to be close, planning on starting his winter early for lack of work. The trip up the mountain is a challenge, but it gives him a good idea of what his remaining senses can and can’t do. 

Everything has a sound, and that sound echoes until it hits something. With practice- and he has plenty, tripping over rocks and nearly falling off cliffs- he learns how to map out his surroundings in an array of newly audible shapes. Rain and wind make it easier, constant sound that cuts off when it comes in contact with something. More obvious than echoes. 

He uses the cane occasionally up here, where there are no witnesses. It eases the mental burden of processing every single sound, but it’s not something he could rely on in battle- or around people, for that matter. There’s not much kindness in this world for witchers or cripples, never mind a crippled witcher. 

The echoey halls of Kaer Morhen present a unique challenge in wide open spaces, sound that seems to stretch out endlessly. He stops at the threshold; head tilted to try and make sense of the room in front of him. He’s been here so many times, but now that he has to, he’s struggling to remember its precise layout. 

“Geralt? What the fuck are you doing here?”

Telling Vesemir what happened is the part he’s dreaded most. He forgets how damn quiet the man is, and it irritates him now, with no face to read. The pause after his story is extensive, leaving him straining to hear any clues. He catches the brush of hair against Vesemir’s collar- turning his head, maybe?

Finally, a sigh and Vesemir steps up to put a hand on Geralt’s shoulder. “Surprised you didn’t kill yourself on the way up here. Could’ve just sent a message, you know.”

Geralt isn’t so sure he could’ve- his handwriting was bad when he could see, and he doubts he could’ve gotten hold of a bird in his state. 

“I happened to be in the area.”

Another pause, he thinks Vesemir is giving him a look, then Vesemir is moving. “Come on, let’s sit down. Do you need help finding anything?”

“I’ll manage.” He moves steadily after him, hands forward when he senses an obstacle. Muscle memory helps, a little, in the most familiar parts of the keep. 

Vesemir doesn’t seem impressed, watching him feel for a chair in his room. 

“Do you need a cane, or something?”

“Already got a stick. Left it on Roach.”

A new sound- is that Vesemir rolling his eyes? He did not need to know there was a sound for that, but there it is, the unmistakable movement of eyeballs. “Of course you did.”

They sit. Geralt gets a sense of the size of the room first, then uses smells to fill in a few blanks- the paper and ink denoting books on the shelf, soap residue from a bath, Vesemir’s general musk clinging to the bed. He grounds himself on Vesemir’s heartbeat, a steady rhythm. 

“You could stay here.” Vesemir leans against his desk, making the wood groan. “Help out around the keep.”

Geralt snorts at the idea of cleaning or doing chores in this empty, lonely place. There’s barely enough for one man to do, let alone two irritable witchers. He doesn’t know how Vesemir does it without going mad- and he has books to read. 

There’s not much for him here, just an exasperated, and secretly worried, Vesemir. He could stay, and- not quite retire, but... make use of what life and skill he has left. 

It’s an offer that falls on deaf ears. Geralt can’t sit here and wallow, can’t sit here when he knows he could still be out there. 

“I just need the winter to adjust. Then I’ll be out of your hair.”

From the sound of his head shaking, Vesemir already knew he was going to say that. He thinks, if he spends enough time around the old witcher, he might find a smell for exasperation. 

“I’ll have to see you hunt, before I send you out there again.”

“Worried about me, old man?”

Vesemir doesn’t respond but his mouth moves- a frown? Definitely a frown. 

Beasts, it turns out, are the absolute least of his concern. 

The heartbeat, the smell, they may as well be announcing their position at all times. He has a feeling hunting at night is going to get significantly easier- no more Cat for him. 

The Kikimore’s legs creak with every movement, its jaws click before every bite, and Geralt learns, in the span of a battle, to recognize the near-silent gurgling sound as a precursor to the beast spitting venom. He feels a strike coming before it lands, the air moving subtly in warning, and finds himself ducking hits that might’ve been out of his line of sight. It’s like having eyes at the back of his head, except- well, he doesn’t actually see.

Vesemir nods his approval when he successfully takes down the Kikimore that’s acted as a pest too close to the grounds of the fortress, and brings them home dinner on the same hunting trip in record time, tracking heartbeats to bypass natural camouflage altogether. Geralt hears the movement, but Vesemir grumbles a verbal affirmation a minute later. Adjusting to more audio-heavy communication- for politeness sake. 

“Next test is gutting it. Think you can find a liver blind?”

...

“Any monster trouble?”

The bartender scoffs and turns to Geralt- presumably glaring. “We’ve got a notice board for a reason. Why don’t you check there?”

“I can’t read.” It’s a simple enough lie- not even a lie, really. He can’t, not anymore. 

The man mutters something to the effect of witchers being no better than beasts, but directs him to the alderman, who’s desperate enough to explain. Someone is sent to show him the main site of attacks, guiding him unwittingly- though, he could have found it faster by smell.

From there, it’s the same as it’s always been. The only challenge in the hunting process is harvesting the useful alchemical bits afterward. He can thank Vesemir for forcing him to spend the last several winters drilling on butchering blind, so he knows, intimately, the difference in smell between a heart and a liver. Dodging toxic parts to reach the valuable ones is still a little tricky- he’s been burned by acidic insides more times than he can count- but practice makes perfect, and he’s getting there. 

Hefting proof of kill on one shoulder, he puts his other hand on Roach. To anyone else, it looks like he’s leading her, but he relies on her to take his general direction and follow the road. He can hear where the town is, but finding the distinction between grass and dirt path is another issue altogether. On his own, without constant concentration, he’d wander off in a more direct diagonal, cutting through rougher terrain and calling unneeded attention to himself.

Reaching town requires bracing himself for the barrage of sensory information that crowds bring. With so many people around, navigating is far harder, but he lets the assumption that witchers are rude cover any vision-related blunders- bumping into people, cutting people off, ignoring people shouting at him.

Getting humans to believe he can see is shockingly easy, more likely due to the stupidity of humanity than any skill of his own. Nobody wants to get any closer to a witcher than they have to, so it’s a simple thing to keep his head turned away, avert his eyes, and mind his own business. 

The scars have faded to faint burns around his eyes- or so Eskel told him- leaving nothing for chatty whores or curious townspeople to ask him about. Most physical indicators of his condition have been wiped away; the only remaining obstacles being his inability to make eye contact and occasional struggle to not trip over barstools. 

He’s been discovered a few times, all of them equally unpleasant, but ultimately unremarkable. He can handle mocking and rocks- especially now that he hears them whizzing through the air, before they nail him in the back of the head- but he counts his blessings that he’s never had an incident notable enough to add Blind to his Butcher epithet. 

His routine doesn’t change much, sticking to his usual strategy of staying out of sight, as far from people as he can manage. He gravitates towards the dark corners, feeling the slight absence of heat in the sunless parts of the tavern. Blindness never becomes a weakness- there’s nothing to exploit, if they never even realize something is different. Being a witcher makes him uniquely invisible.

Nobody bothers him and he makes sure they never will.

Unfortunately, he underestimates the pushiness of a certain bard. 

He doesn’t even realize the bard lingering nearby is looking at him, or talking to him, until he’s sliding into the bench in front of him. He sensed his presence, sure, but he thought he’d be looking at someone else, talking to any number of other people in the tavern.

The bread in his pants is stale, and smells like it. It squishes and crumbles as he moves, probably getting bits stuck in the folds of silk so numerous he hears every slight shift, every wrinkle forming. He thinks the sharper, almost clicking sounds, are sequins against each other- another ridiculous, new sound to add to his catalogue.

“You must have some review for me.” His smile is wide enough that Geralt hears it without trying particularly hard. “Three words or less.”

For all he listens closely to his surroundings, he’s pretty sure he didn’t catch a single word of that song- much less enough for a review, were he inclined to give one. Once upon a time, he may have glared him away, but he fears his aim wouldn’t be good enough now, so he settles for tense silence.

Jaskier does not take no, or an implied no, for an answer.

...

Having Jaskier around is not nearly as annoying as he thought it’d be. At first, he was sure he’d have to dump him somewhere- the noise would be too distracting- but now, the sound has become something of a blessing. 

Like the wind or rain, it creates consistent feedback, bouncing off obstacles and forming a mental image of the area around him. It wraps around their campsite, chatter and music traveling into the forest behind them and dancing around tree trunks until the sound is out of even Geralt’s range. 

It makes nights like this, of Jaskier talking constantly and playing his lute intermittently, pleasant. As close to seeing as he ever gets, giving him a complete picture the world. 

Jaskier breaks his litany of nonsense with an abrupt, “Geralt?”

He actually waits for a response, which is a new and alarming development. Geralt hums and hopes that’s enough. 

“I was wondering- and I hope this isn’t too personal- what’s wrong with your eyes? They never really focus.”

Geralt hears Jaskier’s heart beat a little faster- nervous- and the more subtle sound of him biting his lip. As a rule, Geralt doesn’t disclose his condition to anyone who hasn’t figured it out, but Jaskier-

Jaskier could be sticking around. There’s no point keeping it. 

“I’m blind.”

A silence that he’s come to equate with facial expression- something too subtle to guess, he’s never cared to be precise enough for specifics- follows.

“Is that one of your weird jokes?”

“No, Jaskier. I’m really blind.”

More silence, a steadily fast heartbeat. It’s accompanied by the familiar, frustrating feeling of missing something, an irritation he’s trained to ignore, but has never quite mastered. Geralt sighs and turns fully to face Jaskier, meeting his eyes as well as he can.

“What are you doing?”

A creak of wood, Jaskier startling on the log and shifting too fast. “What do you mean?”

“You got quiet. Usually that means I’m missing something.” He tilts his head, considering. “You’re making a face, probably.”

Another moment of silence. He never thought he’d grow tired of these- let alone become annoyed by them. 

“Huh. I guess I just looked surprised, if my face matches my thoughts as well as I think it does.” Jaskier leans in, for a better look, maybe. If he squints enough, he might be able to see the scar.  “How long have you been, uh...”

“A long time.” He’s not being difficult- despite what Jaskier, and the inhale of breath preceding a scoff, might think. He doesn’t exactly track the date. “A decade, maybe more.”

“How-“ Jaskier clears his throat and Geralt hears the movement of his sleeve as he waves. “How do you do all this?”

“Witcher senses are much better than an average man’s. I use my hearing, mostly.”

The sound of fabric rustling and stretching as Jaskier scoots forward on the log, sliding as close to Geralt as he can without getting up. “How good? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

“You’d ask anyway.” Geralt swings back the last of his drink and turns back to the fire. “Really good. I can hear heartbeats, movements. The way air and sound move around things makes... an outline, almost.”

Jaskier’s heart beats a little faster. Geralt isn’t sure what that means; he strains to hear, but he doesn’t think Jaskier is smiling or frowning. 

“That’s amazing.” A grin- lips sliding over teeth. ���No wonder you’re such a good hunter.”

There’s a jab comparing him to a wolf in there somewhere, but Jaskier doesn’t make the connection so Geralt just hums and picks up his swords, content to spend the rest of the night sharpening and oiling. He’ll keep the fire going, enjoying its heat, if not its light. 

They lapse into a silence that feels more comfortable, less tense than it was the first time. Then again, it’s not really silence- Jaskier is humming almost silently under his breath. Quieter than usual. 

“You don’t have to be quiet, Jaskier.”

Surprise, in the quickened heartbeat and sudden inhale. Shifting, as he sits up straighter. 

“Sorry! I thought it might bother you.”

“I’ll be fine.” Sensing- not through any particular sound or smell, but through his increasing familiarity with Jaskier- Jaskier’s disbelief, he tacks on, “I would’ve stopped you before now, if it was.”

Jaskier nods, then narrates, “Sorry, I nodded.”

“I can tell. I can hear your collar scrunch.”

His mouth falls open and he adjusts his collar. Geralt dutifully does not smile, and keeps his smugness to himself.

“Right, of course.” Jaskier pauses, then looks up again. “Could I ask you a question you probably won’t like?”

Geralt raises an eyebrow. “You’ve never asked permission before.”

“I was wondering, is there anything you can’t do? Anything I could help you with?”

He’s tempted to say no. He should say no. Jaskier probably wouldn’t even argue- too unbalanced around this subject- but he doesn’t want to. 

He wants to say, Keep humming. He wants to ask, Guide me. He wants to demand, Stay by my side. 

He doesn’t do any of those. Instead, he says, “Reading. I can’t read print on contracts. If you could-“

“Of course.” The buttons of his doublet clink together as Jaskier adjusts it, straightening it and puffing out his chest. “I’ll be your agent, of sorts. A very intelligent, shrewd negotiator, taking only the best monster hunting jobs. I’m brilliant at public relations, too.”

Geralt nods, and leaves it at that. 

...

“Make way! The mighty White Wolf is gracing your town with his presence, clear a path!”

The townspeople mutter amongst themselves, confused, but move right away at Jaskier’s tone, lingering curiously at the edge of the street through town. 

Geralt hates the attention, but he can’t deny that Jaskier’s little show is helpful. Particularly since this town is more crowded than most and Roach is struggling to guide him through without trampling anyone. 

Helpful. Unnecessary but- nice. Against his better judgement, he’s started to let Jaskier help more and more often. It’s dangerous, carrying the threat of developing dependency, but Jaskier never oversteps any boundaries and, sometimes, he’s just too tired to refuse. 

There’s been a distinct difference in the time he’s spent with the bard, bisecting his life into the uneven parts of before and after Jaskier. For one, his headaches have decreased, not having to strain to guide himself as often. People are nicer with a human- and a charismatic one, at that- around. They get to stay at better inns if Jaskier performs, and enjoy quality meals outside of rations or burned rabbit. 

He’s happier. There was a time when he thought happiness had been burned out of him, but he’s reminded of its fleeting presence in those special, few and far between moments that prove him wrong.

Well. Previously few and far between. 

“The man at the bar,” Jaskier starts in a dramatic whisper, still loud to Geralt, “is wearing an absolutely ghastly outfit. Geralt, we’re talking multiple primary colors, ruffles, and feathers.”

It’s easy to identify the man based just on his smell, wearing enough perfume to kill. “I imagine it matches his taste in perfume.”

“Gods, yes. I can smell it from here- I don’t know how you can stand it.”

It’s a test of his willpower, certainly, but then, on a few desperate occasions, he’s shoveled shit for coin. This, however, ranks right below those incidents, and right above the stench of a necrophage. 

Jaskier’s color commentary on the world fits right in with his usual chatter and fills in a few, albeit unnecessary, blanks on the decor, the attractiveness of barmaids, and other visual odds and ends. It transitions, at some point, into a story that’s so exaggerated he may as well have made it up and ends in musings about his newest song, which, inevitably, leads to him needling Geralt for details. 

Geralt just hums and tunes him out, focusing on the noise of the street outside. It’s a challenge to pick apart the individual moving pieces of a crowd but it’s enough of a distraction until Jaskier throws his hands up.

“You know, all of this,” Jaskier waves generally at Geralt’s eyes, “explains why you’re such a shit storyteller.”

He senses there’s more to this, can feel Jaskier winding up to something. It’s a quiet evening and a nice tavern, so he indulges. “Does it?”

“Well, I suppose much of the blame falls on me.” Rustling, and the clinking of several unidentifiable objects in Jaskier’s bag, as he fishes out his notebook. “I wasn’t asking the right questions.”

Geralt can’t tell what he’s writing, but he hears a few long drags of the pen and figures he might be drawing something. A box, maybe? A chart, a probably. A series of shorter scratches, for letters. 

Jaskier grins, wide enough that Geralt hears it without concentrating. “Right. Are you ready?”

“For?”

“Your role in the creative process. Now, what did the rotfiend smell like?”

Geralt scrunches his nose and braces for a complicated answer. “I’ll need a few more drinks before I get into that.”

Wordlessly, Jaskier waves for another round and the questions begin. It seems like Jaskier is determined to pick apart every aspect of his sensory experience and, as they get deeper in drinks, Geralt is willing to play along. He’s never talked about it, at length, like this and it’s fascinating to hear the things Jaskier can’t detect, the parameters of human senses that were lost to him long before his vision was. 

He talks until the candles stop giving off heat and his words start to slow, having detailed every smell, sound, feel, and taste that he can articulate. Sleep comes easy, after he lets Jaskier describe the pattern of the quilt and climb in beside him, warm and tired. 

Jaskier’s heartbeat, though faster than his own, forms an easy rhythm to follow into unconsciousness, sinking into a darkness he no longer registers. 

The next time they’re in a tavern, he listens carefully to Jaskier’s new song, lyrics filled with more sounds and smells than he’s used to hearing described. Where there was once brilliant colors and hideous monsters, there is now rich smells and vicious growls. 

He can’t help but smile, hiding it behind his tankard. 

How Jaskier worked rotting flesh into a chorus is beyond him, but it earns a clap. 

[bookdorp]

Getting back into reading!!!!

For about two years now reading has been hard for me. Even though for most of my life, ever since I learned to read as a kid, I have devoured book after book after book, usually several per month. But for some reason for the past two years I could bearely get through one book every two months.

But two months ago I finally got my reading fire back. Huzzaah! And the book that got me fired up again was (to my utmust and complete surprise and even a little frustration and dissapointment) A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas. One of my best friends was doing a re-read and ofcourse the re-read bug bit me too.

When I read this book for the first time 4 years ago, I read it like a masterpiece and loved it so much that I immediatly ordered the second; A Court of Mist and Fury. Which at the time also felt like a masterpiece to me. The second time I read these books was right before the third came out; A court of Wings and Ruin, a book I’d been waiting for and marked in my dairy and even pre-ordered. 

So the second time I read ACOTAR, I was slightly dissapointed because I no longer got the rush from it like I did the first time I read it. And to my memory it felt bland next to how I remembered how ACOMAF made me feel, which read like a train the second time I read it, even though I started noticing some small things that bothered me. So eventually I got to the third book; A Court of Wings and Ruin. Which was definitly disapointing to me, even reading it for the first time. I was expecting to love it.

Now, we are a few years later and I’ve just read ACOTAR and ACOMAF all over again. And I’m grateul to these books for getting me into reading again. And to my surprise, this time I preferred ACOTAR over ACOMAF. (MINDBLOWN!)

I no longer think this series is a masterpiece (anything but) but it’s an easy read, you don’t need to think too hard, the writing is pretty simple and sometimes even pretty. The plot is never complicated and, honestly, I do love myself some good smut. 

ACOTAR

So ACOTAR Round 3: I really liked it best this time. Especially because the plot is so much smoother than ACOMAF and ACOWAR, and most important, it’s THERE, it’s visible, it’s noticable. Every little thing the characters do, especially Lucien and Tamlin, make sense at some point. Things just click once you get to Under The Mountain. And I love that in books! Books that leave hints for you to pick up on (or not), so nothing seems like its a sudden *gasp* suprise! I mean, plot twists are fantastic, but only if they’re executed well. When you feel something coming or you pick up the bread-crumbs left througout the story, and even though you don’t know how to put them together yet, you know they mean something and it will make sense in the end. And ACOTAR gave me this! It all made sense in the end:

-The mention of Tamlin’s heart of stone several times

- The vague mentions of a plague or blight on the land

- Lucien and Tamlin purposely letting her spy and figure things out on her own

 You know, those little things, that all become more logical at the end. I really appreciate that in a book. 

The Love story between Tamlin and Feyre was also nice. It’s wasn’t great but it wasn’t bad either. I’m still not sure if Tamlin truly loves her but I do believe he cares about her a lot in this book. After all, he is being nice to her on purpose and that purpose is to save his people and ending a curse. So does he love Feyre or does he love what she could represent for the future of his people? But I am convinced he cares about her lot, otherwise he wouldn’t have send her away before UTM to save her and so condemn his own people. So maybe there was some love in the end.

The ending itself was great. I loved that Feyre ended up solving the riddel, I only thought the riddle was a little obvious? I mean, I figured it out before Feyre did (even at the first read), but being good or bad at riddles isn’t something I can judge a person for. I think it was amazing Feyre died before being Made Fae, even if, secretely, I would have loved for her to have stayed human. That would have been an interesting story too.

There were definitly consequences for the main characters to work through at the end of the book. Something I looked forward too in book 2. And each character has their good parts and bad parts and the writing accepts that and doesn’t apolagize for it. No one loves perfect characters (looking at you ACOMAF Rhys and Feyre!). 

So I finished ACOTAR with a happy feeling.

ACOMAF

On to ACOMAF, knowing that I loved it in Round 1, was dissapointed in Round 2. And in Round 3 I found myself somewhere in between love and disapointment.

Things I loved (because you always start with the positive:

- The slowburn romance building. Was it eye-rolling at times? Definitly. it’s not my favorite romance couple of all books (Phèdre and Jocelin from Kushiel’s Dart *chef’s kiss*) but I liked how it build slowly and how both of them were given the time to get to know eachother. 

- The Inner Circle. Always nice to welcome new characters into a story. I love their love and friendship, their banter in amusing, and I’m a sucker for found family.

- Learning more about Prythian. We go to so many more places then in ACOTAR. In ACOTAR we only got the human realm, Tamlin’s Mansion and Under The Mountain. In ACOMAF we get Spring Court, Human Realm, Night Court, Velaris, The Prison, Weaver’s Hut, Illyrian places, and (most importantly!) Adriata. So many Courts out there and we are now on Court 3! So much more to explore!

- Lucien. I just really like his character. He’s both a good guy and a bad one. He tries. He wants to be loyal to his only friend, support him and help him, and that is so admirable, but at the cost of Feyre. Which is bad. He is just so conflicted. The right thing to do is not so easy from his point of view. For Feyre it’s easy: yes, he should just help her and stand up for her. But from his own point of view he sees a Court, his Court, that has been devastated for 50 years, his friend comes back broken and in pieces, and in the end he’s only known Feyre for 6 months or so? I understand him chosing the Spring Court and Tamlin before anything else. Even if it’s terrible for Feyre. And it does makes him something of a coward. But he tries to the best of his abilities, even if it’s not enough. I love the duality of Lucien. This is what makes a character interesting: the good AND the bad. Because he did, UTM, help Feyre as much as Rhys did. He healed her, warned her during the Myddengard Wyrm thing. He tried. But he’s not al all powerful High Lord who has somewhat gained the trust of Amarantha.

And in ACOMAF he still tries though it’s obvious he’s chosen Tamlin. He’s allowed to do that, even if it makes him an awefull friend towards Feyre. It doesn’t make him a terrible villain monster. 

The only thing agree with does make him the worst, is him trying to force Feyre to go back with him in the woods. And yet he did that for Tamlin. All of it, all of what he does, is (in his mind) in the name of friendship and protecting his Court. The goal is good, the means are wrong. 

Anyway I like Lucien, even if we didn’t get much of him in ACOMAF.

The things I was dissapointed in (because hate is too strong a word):

- The drama of everything. Everyone gets a sob story, a horrible painful sobstory, because that’s the only way to know if you can like and trust someone I guess? Rhys’s father, mother and sister are murdered, Mor was tortured and brutalized by her own family, Cassian is a bastard that had to fend for himself nearly to starvation, Azriel is a bastard brutalized by his borthers and ignored by his family, and Feyre fits right in I guess. I know it’s fantasy, but please, does no one get a happy childhood in this book? I’d like to include Amren but we really don’t know much about her at this point and we don’t learn much more either.

- Taking away Rhys’s bad boy points??? It made him as interesting as Lucien in my book, the bad he’s done. Why does everything that he did Under The Mountain have to because a ‘Mask’ now. What made him so interesting was because he did all those things thinking he maybe liked them. Now we need to find out he was suffering all along and didn’t want to do it. He just had to to protect his people. I mean, make some things a ‘Mask’ but maybe leave us some bad things because he enjoys them?

- Which leads me to the third things that I disliked: the constant comparison to Tamlin. Suddely, all the good things about Tamlin in ACOTAR disapeared, and Tamlin becomes monster villain number 1 with no good qualities whatsoever. I totally agreed with Feyre staying away from Tamlin for awhile, but to just never go back again? Once she felt like she was strong enough to talk to him, she should have. Was Tamlin in the wrong with how he treated Feyre, YES ABSOLUTELY. But she could have gone back, with Rhys and the Innder Circle for back-up, and sat down with him to talk to him about it. I wish an attempt was made. But I think we all know that Sarah just needed us to hate Tamlin to make Rhys look more perfect. Feyre shouldn’t go back to Tamlin, after Under The Mountain, they’rr not good for eachother. But Tamlin doesn’t know Rhys is secretly a good guy. Feyre got to know him but no one else in Prythian knows Rhys is just pretending. So it’s incredibly ridiculous to assume that Tamlin knows Rhys is good? Rhys behaved like a villain in public on purpose and it worked. And now they are surprised eveyron thinks Rhys is a villain? Of course Tamlin and Lucien believe Feyre is being controlled or manipulated. It’s why I can understand why they want to force her to come back. they truly don’t know any better.

COMMUNICATION IS KEY. Feyre complains how Tamlin never asked her how she felt or how he never wanted to talk abou what happened UTM, but she never asked him either. So this shit goes both ways. I feel for Tamlin and I feel for her. They BOTH couldn’t talk about it but everything gets blamed on Tamlin because his behaviour is more outrageous. She should have gone back (WITH BACK-UP) and talked to him. Would have prevented the weird ending

- And that leads me to the ending. Did anyone really think it would be that simple? Just sneak in and out and that’s that? Like. I love clues in books, but this really screamed TRAP AHEAD *Leliane voice is DA Origins*. Also, Rhys is supposed to be the most powerful High Lord ever, but he’s really easy to subdue and trick. I mean, the King of Hybern is supposedly a warlord of masterful cunning....

 And the fact they left Amren in Velaris. Everyone seems to agree she’s even more powerful than Rhys. They should have left Mor and Cassian in Velaris and taken Amren and the King of Hybern would have died then and there. Making stupid decisions to further the plot is not fun to read. Write better! But then again, ACOMAF was never really about the plot so if you read this book accepting it’s all about romance building and some smut, it’ll be easier. It’s what I did :P

And some minor annoyances:

- I feel liked everyone’s going to find love in these books. Because being single is BAD I guess. It’s too convenient.

- I would have loved for one weaker character to be in the Inner Circle. Not everyone can be overpowered. Where are my bookworms that make plans and don’t have flashy powers that can make mountains tremble when they orgasm?

- Velaris was too modern? I miss a more fae place? Less with bars and dancings and stores selling lacey underwear? Feyre in leggings and an over-sized sweater annoyed me. Seriously.

And that’s that.

I’m so happy to be reading again! And writing about reading ><

Next is A Court of Wings and Ruin.