#chapter two next week :)

[dirtgrubber]

“You jumped off a building without a second thought?” He says in disbelief. His hand delicately clasps onto Lucifer’s shoulder blade, a careful touch. “Hmm. Aren’t you reckless.”

from @morningstarwrites Of Saints And Sinners

[regular-gnome]

6. I'm The Collector

First | Previous | Next

[cinnaminstar]

*crawling out of a google doc spitting blood* hey guys i enjoy writing

the current chapter is fighting back AND I move in less than a week, so to make sure people know I'm alive here are illustrated versions of a few of my favourite comments <3

(P.S go read my fanfic. It's about siffrin being evil but he's bad at it)

[aroaceleovaldez]

Romantic in nature or not, I always just looked at that scene in MoA with the notion: Annabeth is convinced that Nico, a gay man, has a crush on her in this exact scene (or you know, a different scene in MoA, I don't remember), and since we know that Annabeth isn't the best on the emotional front, she read Luke's intentions incorrectly, and Percy did, as well, due to his jealousy of the guy.

(Now, I know that neither of these are the case, especially since I doubt Nico was thought to be gay until HoH, and this is around the time that Annabeth was starting to be characterized as Never Wrong About Anything Ever, but it's always been my go-to regarding the whole Luke-Annabeth debacle. What I mean to say is that I like your interpretation of the scenes, too)

Oh i actually believe Nico was fully intended to be gay starting around MOA at least (though I do believe Rick claiming he had figured that out about Nico earlier than that), because Rick was absolutely acknowledging queer topics in his writing at that time. Jason's arc particularly in the latter half of HoO is extremely bi-coded and there's just straight up a canonical polyamorous relationship in Serpent's Shadow, which came out several months before HoH.

Which does make Annabeth's line about that in MOA funnier, especially considering by that point Nico has held maybe one full conversation with her in the entire franchise thus far, maybe two or three if you wanna push it. I cannot emphasize enough how little they had spoken to each other - and tbh, continued to not speak to each other. Just in general. Like the most notable interactions the two of them have prior to the high-five scene in BoO are literally both in BoTL and it's one line and then one off-screen scene of Nico breaking up a fight between Rachel and Annabeth (where they were fighting over Percy) entirely for the purposes of going to save Percy. They barely interact in HoO. Nico and Annabeth have a chronic case of their plot lines being in different locations because only one of them is allowed to be active at a time due to their narrative roles. Annabeth is kidnapped for most of the TTC Nico scenes and Nico is at camp when they get to Annabeth, and then in TLO Nico's busy with all the Underworld stuff and flirting with Percy so he never interacts with Annabeth. Then Nico is off at Camp Jupiter when Annabeth's at CHB and then busy being kidnapped for the first stretch of the Argo II mission and only shows up when Annabeth is busy on her Arachne quest. And then Annabeth FALLS INTO TARTARUS when Nico gets there (and proceeds to pine at Percy) and then IMMEDIATELY after Annabeth gets out of Tartarus, Nico skips away with Reyna and Coach to drag the Athena Parthenos to camp. And then FINALLY they interact and it's not even Nico speaking directly to Annabeth really, just high-fiving her after insulting Percy to his face. He literally only says one word directly to her.

Like. I cannot overemphasize the absolute comical degree to which these two avoid interacting. They're like magnets repelling each other. And yet Annabeth is like "I think he has a crush on me - he spoke to me once, allegedly." Like ah yes, sure, HoO. Next you're gonna tell me you retconned them into having a FOURTH conversation! Don't get too wild!

[aplaceforyourhearttorest]

Take Me Down To The River † James Hetfield (16+)

Part One of Two

Mentions/Warnings: smalltown!james, smalltown!reader, angst, hurt and comfort, exes to lovers, suggestive content

Cicadas croon in a repetitive notion as you slowly make your way down the seemingly never-ending road and pathway, the tattered and overworn lace on the bottom of your dress caressing itself against the tops of your boots with every step you trudge forward. The sky is gray and an offset blue, yet heat still permeates itself through the thickened clouds as music eventually begins to make itself known within the distance between you and the familiar looking, abandoned church ahead. Cars line themselves in hazardous and haphazard lines on each side of the jagged and uneven damp dirt road, and irritation starts to sear in your stomach as loud voices and engines begin to surround you.

You halt mid step and contemplate turning around and creating a false excuse as to why you were unable to show up to the party on your way back home, before you flinch back at the sound of a truck barreling its way down the pathway you're currently stood on, and as dark and browned water spatters itself against the now ruined bottom half of your dress. The muddied liquid immediately absorbs itself within the cotton of your outfit, and a grimace paints your already downtrodden features as the material latches itself onto your newly soaked skin. You look down in numbed disbelief as droplets collect themselves in the hem and then pummel downward, and you're hardly able to fully lift your head up again before a voice is yelling out and at you.

"Holy shit, I swear I didn't see you there," an oddly sounding familiar voice cries, and brakes are soon squeaked to a stop soon after, the high pitch constriction sounding the complete opposite of the slow music echoing itself down the road. Blonde and disarrayed strands of mane cover the left side of the man's face, and your heart stutters in your chest as the muddled air brushes it away to show the features underneath. James pauses in the middle of opening his door, and only comes out of his stupor when someone else in the car shoves him forward. He's barely able to catch his weight on his forearm resting in the created opening of the window's edge, and his own face twists in disgust as his left shoe makes contact with the soot textured filth he covered the bottom half of you with. "Are you alright?"

The second the question is verbalized, he's shaking his head at his own inquisition, and his lips move inward as you take a step backward and go to walk towards the small opening in between the rows of cars. "Wait!" He requests, yet you sift your fingers down the fabric and bunch it up instead, before lifting your other weighed down boot and continuing your half blind travel. The sun is now pivoting behind the earlier clouds, and you ignore the unyielding calls behind you as you attempt to find the source of running water you remember visiting only a few years ago. There's a halted moment and a pause within James calling out to you, and you suck in a deep breath of relief, just as a warm hand encircles itself around your right forearm. Your body's first instinct is to flinch away, even as the cool and familiar temperature of his rings press themselves against your bare skin and silently beckon you in.

"I didn't know you were back in town," the slight stammer in his now deeper tone softens your hardened shell, even as you tense under his hold, and as his grip loosens once he notices your demeanor. The dual sound of your guys' shoes and boots squelching as they imprint themselves in the mud is the only consistent cadence, before the cicadas round again, and as his fingers absentmindedly run their pads down your goosebump ridden flesh. Your fists clench themselves in the material of your dress as he retracts his hold from around your lower arm, and you force yourself to look forward as he clears his throat. "I'm really sorry, if I had known it was you, I would have slowed down."

Your lips raise on their own accord, despite the awkwardness and tension in the air, and you can feel James' eyes rest on you as your shoulders shake with your uncontained laughter. "And if it wasn't?" You edge, your knuckles relaxing against the wet cotton, the dress's material sliding back down to cover the rest of your legs as you catch sight of the river to your left. James allows himself to fully catch up with your own steps, and you subconsciously lean into his warmth as his clothed shoulder brushes and caresses itself on your own bare one. The smile in his voice when he answers is obvious, and if you'd allow yourself to relax any further, it'd almost feel like you two are eighteen again. Meeting up for a date by the river, or for a moment of silence, while your mutual friends raise hell not so far behind.

"I'd speed up and get even closer," he instigates, his smile turning into a smug grin when you look over at him in amused shock, your features brighter and livelier than a few minutes prior. "It's common sense and knowledge around here to walk in the grass anyway, most locals know that," his left elbow bends and purposefully collides with yours, both of your guys' smiles mellowing after he finishes his sentence. "Even if they've been gone for a while."

You're saved from answering as you pivot and carefully inch yourself towards the edge of the side of the river, the mud covering the bottom of your boots aiding you as you squat down to level yourself with the flowing water. James keeps himself a step behind you, and without even having to look back, you already know that he's got both of his hands positioned to catch you in case you fall. You place your dampened palms on the rocks and rest your backside against the cool surface, a shiver wracking up your spine as you place your lower limbs into the current. Hurried waves of excited and once still water wash ashore on the worn leather of your boots and stained dress, and you watch as both of your reflections look back at each other in the darkened liquid.

"It's been two years," you remind him, your breath leaving you in a shuttered exhale, and you wet your lips as you watch his features withdraw and close up. "You chose what you wanted to do, and I chose as well, I suppose. I'm not upset about it anymore." The tightness in your chest constricts as renewed guilt reawakens on his face, and you situate your eyes on the other side of the river, instead of having to see him relive the last day you two spoke to each other.

"You didn't abandon me, regardless of all of the fucked up things I said back then," James iterates, finally fully meeting you at the edge, and the large rock beneath you two shifts, before it recenters and seeps back into the soil. His left hand rests right next to your right, and you coerce and stop your fingers from spreading in a blind search of his own. "You did the right thing for yourself back then, and I did too." You twist around to try and look back for the truck he had driven in with, but it was too far back and blanketed within the others.

"Found the rest of your band members, huh?" You search gently, and hum around a renewed smile as you see him nod in your peripheral. The coil unravels in your chest, and for the first time since you've seen him again, it nearly feels easy to breathe. A ripple of cool water lifts the bottom of your dress from the tops of your boots, and you peer down as it naturally folds and rests on the middle of your shins. You brave yourself enough to look over at him, and the breath halfway exited from your chest halts, as your irises immediately find and latch onto his. "I knew you would." You breathe, you voice barely audible over the rush of water, the background music and cicadas, and the erratic beating of your own heart. It's pathetic how something as simple as a reciprocated look from your first love can have the last few years apart, feel like only seconds.

You swallow thickly and press your tongue to the roof of your mouth as his blue eyes track the movement, your fingertips pulsing against the cold stone beneath the two of you, as you cautiously wait for his next move. Expecting him to be as impulsive as much as he is shy has you tensing, and your spine relaxes as he instead looks away and inches forward. Reddened and calloused hands reach forward to gather the material of your dress, and you raise your legs in front of you for better access. The residual water he wrings out the cotton sounds like temporary pouring rain, and you can't help but shudder as he curves a roughened palm around your right calf to tug you in closer. His fingertips coalesce to scrub out some of the mud spatter and browned water, and you purse your lips together in an attempt to hold back a titter of laughter as it just makes it worse, the river's water doing nothing but softening whatever had hardened on the travel over.

"It's alright," you try to placate, your voice sounding tight as you try to swallow down your own mirth at the situation, it becoming harder to do so as he rubs the material back and forth together with annoyed vigor. You see his hands beginning to turn a light hue of purple, and you hastily bend forward to take his own in yours. "It's okay, James, it's only a dress." Your words are ignored as he continues under your hold, and you're only able to gather his full attention once you grab ahold of both of his wrists. You bend your knees and rest your now completely soaked boots on top of the rock beneath you two, and James follows as you beckon him to fully sit back down next to you.

"I can buy you a new one, or I can take it to the dry cleaners. I promise you; I'll figure something out this time." His words seem hushed and hurried, and you absentmindedly rub your thumbs against his pulse points, feeling his blood pumping anxiously underneath your digits. You tug on his unsteady hands and lay them on your right thigh, and send him a gentle look when he rests his unfocused gaze onto you.

"There's nothing to figure out, because everything is fine. See," you purposefully trail your eyes down the expanse of your body, and you make sure that he follows suit. His eyebrows furrow when you two get down to your boots, but he's already quickly relaxing into your hold. "I'm right here, we're both in one piece. We're all good to go."

He tsks and shakes his head to himself, before following your earlier movements by looking behind you both, seemingly trying to find his truck throughout the others. "I've got a spare outfit or two in the truck's backseat," he offers, and he's up onto his feet before you can fully digest his words, gently twisting his wrists out of your hold, only to mold his own hands against yours and squat down in front of you. "I said I'll figure something out this time, and I meant it. I may have broken both of our hearts and nearly drowned you in mud, but I can at least offer you a shirt that hasn't been cleaned in the past three days." He's got a familiar looking playful and hopeful gleam in his eyes in response to your own wry look, and you know it's best to follow him instead of trying to fight back and disagree, so you place the heels of your feet underneath you and allow him to bear the rest of your weight.

You hold back any reaction to the wet gush of water that covers your toes once you're fully stood back up, and you give yourself permission to hold onto the hands you've tried to convince yourself you haven't missed. You walk behind him through the tight rows of cluttered cars and trucks, and try not to reminisce on the times you two were in a similar position. Just having gotten out of the swimming pool back in senior year, with a wide smile on your face, and you lifting yourself up onto the tips of your toes to press the physical representation of your happiness into the middle of his shoulder blades.

The only sources of light down the long road and pathway are from headlights that were left on, and from taper candles that were brought earlier on from the actual party throwers. The tinged and artificial yellow light gives off a warmer atmosphere as you two shuffle yourself free from the onslaught of vehicles and back onto the slab of dirt, and you feel James let out a hefty sigh once you two do. You carefully untangle a hand from his and move forward to stand beside him, your relief becoming palpable as the red truck that must be his comes into immediate view. He's reaching forward into the truck with its window still down and pushing it open from the inside, before twisting the high beams off and motioning you to head inside first. You pause once you're able to stabilize yourself on your knees on the large front seat, and kick off your boots before you fully get into the truck. James is repeating the motion and barely has his door fully closed, before he's got a forearm and bicep disappearing in the direction of the backseat.

Your lips nearly split with the size of your disbelief ladened smile, as a shirt you once gifted him is tugged free from a messy pile. Red and black overworn and stretched out cotton is strewn onto and over your lap, and you clutch onto it as you try to figure out his expression. James stares forward as you slowly and carefully lift your hips up to tug the sticking material from your still dampened skin, and you hold back a shiver as you free your bottom half. You can see in the yellowed light from the other cars multiple feet away from his that his hands are gripping the steering wheel, and his teeth are pressing themselves into his bottom lip, worrying the natural swell. You tug the remainder of the dress off of you and drag the shirt and his scent over your mussed hair and head, and slowly lower yourself to lay back against the tinted leather.

By the time you've got your dress half folded up and resting near your bare feet, James is loosening the hold he has on the steering wheel and turning his head to look in your direction. You tug at the collar of the obviously worn and stressed shirt. "You kept this," you unhelpfully point out, and your breath hitches as you catch the familiar glint of metal on the keychain attached to the keys that were left in the ignition. "And you also kept the gift that I got you for our one-year anniversary."

"What about it?" He grates, his tone aggressive, yet saddened. James' hand lowers to almost protectively touch the keychain, as if he's reminding himself that it's still there. You push yourself up into a fully sitting position, uncaring as the material of the shirt lifts to rest on your upper thighs, as you begin to feel frustrated as well.

"The night I came and told you about me getting accepted into a college out of state, the first words out of your mouth were just take it and go, leave me already. That our relationship was essentially bullshit, and that neither one of us should hold each other back," you're unable to hold your emotions at bay, your tone becoming weaker. Tears burn and make themselves known at the precipice of your waterlines, and James stares at you helplessly as they begin to make their way down your reddened cheeks. "You broke up with me the week after you thanked me for always being by your side, and right after you got news of Cliff wanting to join the band. We celebrated the night before, and we made plans. To travel together and figure our shit out on our own time. That the timeline of things didn't matter, as long as we have each other."

James reaches out to take ahold of your hand, and you edge them further back, averting your eyes to not have to see his reaction to your rejection. You hear a broken exhale, and then the faint sound of something dripping onto leather. The hand James originally reached out to you with is raised temporarily, and then brought back down, now wet with tears. "You don't understand," he begins, the earlier strength and sureness behind his tone now nonexistent. "You were the only person there for me for years, and then an opportunity of a lifetime was offered to you, and I couldn't have let you miss out on that. I know you, and I know that if I had asked you to stay closer or wait another year on your dreams for me, you would have," you look up at him to intercept and disagree, but you hold yourself back when you see the expression on his face. "You gave up so much for me within the years we were together, and even before then. The least I could've done then, was give up the fear of holding you back."

"We could have made it work; we could have figured something out." You try to reason, but let go of trying to rationalize it all when you finally have him in front of you to explain. You reach out this time, and instead of being rejected like you did with him earlier, he meets you halfway. The air pillowing in from the rolled down window smells like moss and post rain shower, the light is artificial and it's getting darker as each minute passes by, but you're here together. And with the first swipe of his thumb across the second knuckle of your left forefinger, you're moving in closer. Your bare knees make brushing contact with his right thigh, and his free hand intertwines itself with the material of his shirt.

"As soon as you left, I ran headfirst into finding the rest of the members of the band. Lars and I almost lost our minds with it, and I needed the distraction. We went days without telephones and nearly without food. Even if we could've tried to make it work, we wouldn't have been how we were," he traces the faded and ripped lettering and guides his fingertips up to the collar, before using it as leverage to usher you forward until you're both only centimeters apart. His exhale becomes your inhale, and as you blink, you can feel as your eyelashes skim and make brief contact with his cheekbone. "I think I needed to lose you, to figure out what shit really matters."

Hope blooms in your chest. And despite being partially freezing cold, terrified of making the wrong move, overstepping and then getting out of the truck alone, being in such a close proximity to him brings you so much comfort and warmth. "And what shit really matters?" You ask, tilting your head up with a nod, and fighting back the urge to close your eyes as your lips brush against his. You can sense and feel his answering grin without even having to glance down. And for the first time in two years, and instead of being kissed goodbye, you're being welcomed back in.

"You matter." Is murmured within a gasp, and you're unable to process anything but the touch of him again. Each brush of lips and the teasing swipe of tongue has you letting go of his hand and instead freeing your own to grip onto the handle of the driver's side door, only to use it as leverage to climb onto his lap. His hands are on you instantly, easily finding their way underneath his gifted shirt to dig his fingertips into your heated up flesh, his palm making direct and firm contact with your spine to push you even closer up against him.

You have to lean back and disconnect your guys' lips to suck in a much needed inhalation of breath, and James takes advantage of your newly exposed skin once you do. His tongue lengthens itself down and leaves trails of saliva and marks in its wake, and by the time he's got you littered in marks and nearly rutting against his lap, he's pleading with you. "Tell me you're going to stay."

You raise your hand to reach up and grasp onto his long, blonde locks, your lips swollen and bruised red, and your breath still lost. With a gentle tug and an answering groan, you whisper.

"Give me a reason to."

[skania]

I love, love, love what the anime did with that final shot. Kana's acting as a child was like "the dazzling and shining sun". In the manga, I always thought the the title, "Sun", was simply meant to be a reference to that.

But the anime takes it a step further and suggests it's meant to be about both, because in that final shot we see sparkles shining off Akane's eyes... the same sparkles that were shown in that initial shot where Kana's acting is called sun-like.

I also adored the way they elevated those last Aqua/Akane pages.

The anime clearly parallels Sayahime's pain at the war with Akane's pain at accidentally making Kana retreat into herself. She silently apologizes to Kana, just like Sayahime must be silently apologizing to those being hurt due to the fights.

Thanks to the manga drawn by the OnK Anime staff, we know those are Saya's quarters. So who would likely be the one to comfort her in those times of need?

Touki, her fiancé. And who comes to comfort Akane?

Aqua, Akane's very own Touki 😭

The anime didn't have to go that hard, but they deliberately set up this parallel. It isn't only that Akane and Aqua are dressed as Saya and Touki, they are behaving the part, too. Aqua is there to reassure her that she did nothing wrong, and to have her back so she can have the result she wishes for. Just like Touki with Saya.

[iamumbra195]

!!!SBG SPOILERS CHAPTER 77!!!!

THIS CHAPTER WAS EVERYTHING HOLY FUCKING SHIT!

The dynamics between the kids and how comfortable they've gotten around each other, especially with how Ashlyn was totally okay with Taylor and Aiden messing with her hair-- which is something I absolutely adore in this chapter she looks amazing and badass. The fact that Logan felt comfortable enough being snarky like that is also everything. Like this kid has been bullied relentlessly and the fact that he knows he can be snarky and mess with Tyler like that without getting hurt because of it shows so much growth. And the little moment of childish delight between Taylor and Aiden at the idea of racing around and the fact that Ashlyn doesn't tell them to focus or be serious but instead tells them they can do it later?? Early Ashlyn would get so annoyed and now she's just chill with it because she knows they all have their own ways to cope and deal with the stress and that's honestly so sweet.

Also, Ben using sign language and being understood and the others trying to find solutions so he can warn them of danger or something he is about to do is so sweet. They're so accommodating and caring to one another without even having to think twice, it's honestly so sweet.

Alex helping them with the card without question is really sweet but I have bad feeling it's gonna backfire on him and I don't like it.

And the rules of the phantom dimension are literally so weird. So technically they don't need to sleep or eat but they should because it helps them feel better when they're awake? I knew I was onto something when I made that post about how the fact they're technically living 31 hours a day should effect them more physically.

Also, The fact that the facility has a fucking armory is insane but also works so perfectly for the Mike-centric AU I've been trying to cook up and speaking of Mike, OH MY GOD HE'S IN THE PHANTOM DIMENSION, I REPEAT, HE'S IN THE PHANTOM DIMENSION!!

Does that mean the other parents are there too? Is it just him? Is Emma with him?

Also, both dad and daughter being certified badasses and having the same instincts??

We also got Mike with facial hair again lol but I'm kinda worried about what the means. Like they probably gave them stuff for basic hygiene right? Did something happen? Is he spiralling? Who was the one that screamed in this moment?

Also-- THE WAY ASH STARTED CRYING WHEN SHE RECOGNIZED HIM??

Oh my god, idk if we're gonna have another hug moment where he's comforting her again or if we're gonna have all the kids hugging their parents but either imma start crying.

Also, if she's crying but she thinks she's the one who dragged her dad into the phantom realm and feels horribly guilty about it again I'm gonna fucking cry.

My thought process is all over the place but if you stayed thanks and here are some of my other favourite panels in this chapter.

the second one and aiden shooting the guns has some good pfp potential lol

Anyway, the new outfits and Ash's new hair is everything (she looks adorable I wanna squish her cheeks she looks like a chipmunk oml) and I can't wait until next week holy shit.

[shirozora-draws]

I am so late but I am finally done with the first round of merch that I am satisfied with. I am satisfied and we are rolling forward with this set. Now to send off all of my final sample orders so that I know these are absolutely working and are worth posting to a shop site as pre-orders.

Clan of Three lanyards. I recognize that I could easily turn these into washi tapes if I wanted to. We'll see.

Grogu Baby Crimes. Sticker & acrylic shaker charm. Completely revamped after carrying around the old version as an acrylic shaker charm and deciding it was too unwieldy and, more importantly, not cute enough. This will be a sticker option and an acrylic shaker charm option.

Keldabe kiss - Interstellar version. Matte & holographic sticker.

Keldabe kiss - Tatooine version. Matte & holographic sticker.

Live Cheen Reaction. Sticker. For all the fans of Cheen Yofree, the unluckiest third-wheeling Rodian OC.

Need A Hero. Sticker & acrylic charm. The only thing I'm putting forward with Din's face for now. I wanted something cute.

Clan of Two. Sticker. A straightforward general sticker.

The Battle Couple. Sticker (for now). This was actually designed to be an embroidered patch, but I'm not really there yet. The sticker shape is odd so I might present this as a kiss cut sticker.

Luke on Ossus - no scars. Sticker. For people who don't want scars?

Luke on Ossus - scars. Sticker. I just wanted to doodle a thirst trap, thassit.

The Storm. Sticker (for now). I wanted to make more merch for my fics and might use this template for the other fics in the Dangerous Dreams series.

The Clan of Three. Sticker. This motherfucker held me up for MONTHS. I didn't like the previous full-body version especially after getting several sample stickers so I started over... and then got stuck. For months. But here we are. The final piece of the puzzle.

Limited - Tron. Sticker & acrylic charm. I wanted to make a little Tron merch. The acrylic charm will be double-sided with Tron on one side and Rinzler on the other. Thank god this guy is more or less symmetrical.

Limited - Rinzler. Sticker & acrylic charm. For people who like Rinzler. This will be double-sided with Rinzler on one side and Tron on the other side.

I'm sending off a final round of sample sticker and charm orders so that I can get a feel for the revamped and new designs, and once I'm happy I'll get the pop-up shop up and running.

Round 2, I'm looking at small prints, possibly the embroidered patch, and maybe a Tron|Rinzler standee. Also a sticker for The Suns maybe, possibly also The Stars. What if I did a WarGreymon|BlackWarGreymon charm?????

And now.... we write.

[chaosduckies]

Surprise Sketches of some OC’s I was working on for a fic I was writing. Again, not an artist but I think they turned out okay! :D (I think the tiny is going to be smaller but I’m physically incapable of drawing that small on my current canvas size)

Don’t worry, the big guy is gentle… even if sometimes he doesn’t realize things until after he’s done them. But aghhh. Tiny with a broken wing, forced to stay with someone hundreds of times bigger than himself until he’s healed up which could take months? Amazing. Chef’s kiss

I won’t reveal the names yet, but this one is an extreme size difference because I love it so much 🫶

[lexosaurus]

I think, genuinely, the coolest part about being in this phandom for so long and semi-consistently putting creative projects out there is that I can look back over the years and see how much growth I've made in all areas of my creativity.

Like, I'm writing things now I wouldn't have even dreamed of years ago, and I'm composing music that past me would have been shell-shocked to hear. And I can see with each new fic I put out, each new song I make, how much better I'm getting. And it's not to say that I've mastered the art of writing and composition, but I've certainly improved a fuckton since like 2017 or whenever the hell I made this account.

Damn, y'all. It turns out that all the experts were right and skill is just a LOT of practice over a long period of time.

[gossippool]

i know my favourite characters HATE to see me coming❗️❗️

[regular-gnome]

3. A Collection Run

First | Previous | Next

What happens - Context

[cinnaminstar]

I finally have some actual free time again! To celebrate, here are some very quick villain Sif doddles as I try to get back into both the writing and drawing groove lol

[bluerosety-blog]

I can't with this lol! 🤭🤣

Aww Kacchan's smile reminds me of Izuku's! 😖💕

Heck yeah! I'm ready to have my heart broken, who's joining me! 😌 (Omg not I am not, Hori please!) 😭🙏

[whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk]

Begged & Borrowed Time (ao3, xxxi)

(Chapter thirty-one: After a week spent healing, Cassian is still trying to navigate the mating bond whilst struggling to keep his feelings in check.) (Prologue // previous chapter // next chapter)

As the early morning sun bathed Velaris in gold, Cassian stood in the centre of the House training ring and watched blood drip from his battered knuckles. 

When he’d entered the ring an hour ago, he hadn’t bothered to wrap his hands. 

And now, he was paying for it. His skin was torn, and each pass of the breeze against his damaged hands was like salt poured into an open wound, forcing a muted hiss to pass between his teeth as his blood pooled in the hollows between his fingers. 

It might have helped, once— the training, the way he skipped through a sequence of moves with nothing but a training dummy as an opponent, his muscles burning with exertion after so long spent idle. But today, the knot of apprehension in his gut stayed, like no amount of physical strain could lessen the weight he carried in his chest.

A week had passed since that day in the library.

Every day since had been the damned same; the sun broke over the mountains only to leave Nesta sitting silent and solemn by Elain’s bedside, all but wringing her hands as Cassian looked on, drifting towards her like he was pulled by something magnetic, keeping his face carefully blank as Elain spent only sporadic moments awake. And when she was lucid enough to speak…

Not yet, she whispered, over and over and over, like something within her had been irrevocably broken when she’d been tossed into that Cauldron. Not yet.

Cassian could have sworn the blood had turned to ice in his veins when he’d first heard it - when he’d knocked on the door to Nesta’s room an hour after she’d all but ran from him in the library, and he’d heard the concern in her voice as she nodded to Elain’s room and asked if he’d ever encountered anything like this before.

He slammed his bleeding fist into the dummy now— sent the frame rattling, precarious. 

For Nesta, Cassian had shrugged. He’d seen thousands of soldiers emerge from battle, he’d told her, and no two of them had ever dealt with the horror they’d endured in the same way. Perhaps, he’d said, this was just Elain’s way of coping. Sealing herself off inside her mind and letting her dreams take over. 

For Nesta, he’d forced the small smile that passed his lips to be comforting and assured, burying every single hint of apprehension even as unease snaked a path through him, something in his bones begging him to back away. 

Because no, he’d never seen anything like Elain Archeron lying still in her bed, talking in riddles.

But Nesta had looked so utterly lost that he’d tried to console her anyway, and even though something deep within him shied away from Elain and whatever it was that she had taken from the Cauldron - because not one part of him thought it was natural, that glazed look in her eyes when she spoke - he forced himself to sit in that room anyway, in a chair the House had left out for him, right beside Nesta’s own. 

He didn’t know what else to do; where else to be other than by her side. 

And every night, when Cassian closed his eyes, all he saw was that look on Nesta’s face— despondent, trying hard to fight the pain, and bowing beneath it as she turned and walked away from him in that library a week ago.

Another punch landed, his blood staining the cotton fabric that made up the dummy’s torso. Above, the sun was bright— blinding, harsh.

It fucking haunted him, whenever he thought of how they’d sat there on that sofa in the library. All the things he’d said about his mother, and she about hers. His father, too.

I don’t think he deserved you anyway.

It had been a moment of such aching vulnerability, when his soul was laid as bare as hers, and in five whole centuries of living, he’d never felt so exposed. He remembered, once, when his armour had been damaged in battle and he’d simply torn the breastplate away, leaving his chest prone to the sharp edge of an enemy blade. Somehow even that didn’t compare to that single conversation in that library. There was no more armour he could don around her now, no more protection he could call on. It had made his heart hurt in a way he’d never known before, and the damn thing only seemed to beat for her now anyway, but…

Cassian had longed to tell her, in that moment, that she might as well have scarred her name right into his chest for all that he belonged to her. 

A brutal snarl ripped from his throat as his fist collided, unforgiving, with the dummy once more, and breathing hard he wiped the sweat from his brow with the back one aching hand, already bruised. 

He loved her. And she wouldn’t let him say it.

And he wasn’t fool enough to think it wasn’t starting to take a toll, spending every day grounded, stuck up here waiting for his body to convalesce whilst he sought, evermore, to strike the right balance between navigating the bond that suddenly felt so much stronger these days, and keeping the damn thing a secret. It was a dangerous line to walk, and if he thought he’d been protective of her before… Gods, now he spent every moment finding some reason to reach out and touch her. To brush his fingers across her shoulder, to hold her hand, to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear. He’d always been one that needed touch after growing up so starved of it, but it was so much more intense with Nesta.

Everything was so much more intense with Nesta, and yet he had to go slowly, to consider every move in a way that he hadn’t needed to before the Cauldron. 

But with every day that passed, the anger in him seemed to build and even as his body healed, frustration and desperation made a wasteland of the heart inside his chest every time he looked into her face and saw those eyes, distant.

And today… Today was a bad day.

Today felt like breaking point.

The blood smeared across his knuckles was proof of it.

Whatever power it was that Nesta had taken from the Cauldron, they still hadn’t spoken of it.

Cassian had learned to watch the silver in her eyes. To notice when it flared. He didn’t think it was a coincidence that it was only when those eyes were more silver than blue that she’d pull away from him, or that only when her hands grew unnaturally cold did she not want him to touch her. 

There’s something… up with her, Cass.

Rhys’ words from when Cassian had first awoken were never far from Cassian’s mind these days. 

Even the fucking House seemed to be aware of it— responding to her. Twice now Cassian had noticed the House give something when Nesta hadn’t asked for it, and it was odd, he thought, because the House had always been so infuriatingly literal with commands in the past, and yet… only the other day, it had started a fire without instruction when Nesta shivered. Had brought her tea when she seemed to need it.

He’d brushed it off, chalked it up to something strange he didn’t have the capacity to deal with right now, but…

Odd.

With a heavy sigh, Cassian dropped his fists from the training dummy. He shook the tension from his shoulders and stretched his wings until it hurt, feeling the sun’s heat sinking through the sensitive membrane like a balm, a soothing press against injuries that were only almost healed. He tipped his head back and let the same light wash across his face, closing his eyes and stretching his wings as far as they would go. 

He could almost get them to full extension.

Another day or so and he’d be able to start flying again, and as he looked down over the city, he felt his blood thrumming in his veins, simmering with a week’s worth of restlessness. It was hard to shake, that unsteady feeling he got when he’d been grounded for too long. Illyrians weren’t born to be confined, or to keep their feet on solid ground for too long. Cabin fever set in quickly when those that had once tasted the skies had flight robbed from them— it was why Rhys had brought him to the House of Wind to heal, Cassian supposed. Being up so high and being able to taste the wind alleviated some of the frustration, but still. There was too many things Cassian needed to do, and combined with the absolute mess of a situation they were currently in…. Was it any wonder his head was too loud?

He rotated his wrists, loosening the stiffness that had gathered as he’d punched the dummy until his skin split. The wind brushed his cheeks, cooling the heat, and as he looked to the horizon he heard the call of the gulls over the docks, carried to him on the breeze. It still wasn’t enough to calm the tides inside him.

Turning his face, he looked to the smooth rock walls of the House, clay-red against the bright blue sky, and when a shadow darkened the archway that lead inside, for a foolish moment Cassian thought Nesta had come to find him.

For a foolish moment, his heart skipped.

Foolish, because it wasn’t Nesta leaning in the rounded doorway. 

Azriel’s shadows pooled at his feet, like they were loath to slink into the sunlight, and dressed head-to-toe in his habitual black, he might as well have been a void where the light went to die, absorbing the sunlight entirely as he folded his arms and observed the training ring from a distance. 

No long stretch of healing had been required for Azriel. The spymaster had woken from the sleep the healers had put him under and been strong enough to walk about a day later, the poison entirely gone from his system. That had been four days ago, and now Azriel’s gait was smooth and even as he stepped outside, his face blank and impassive as the shadows that had hung in the shadows skirted the edge of the House roof, seeking shade. Only when Azriel was a pace or two away from the painted lines that marked the edges of ring did he speak.

“I spoke to Rhys,” he said, straight to the point, with about as much of a hello as Cassian figured he’d get. “He’s asked me to fly to Cretea tomorrow to see if we can find Miryam and Drakon.”

Cassian scowled at the dummy, fingers flexing as the urge to punch it again gathered like wildfire in his hands. “Let me guess— he wants to ask if their forces could supplement our own.”

Az nodded.

“And he still hasn’t heard anything? About Hybern?”

Grimly, Azriel shook his head. 

Rhys had been monitoring the situation on the continent, trying to figure out the king’s next move, but even though Az’s shadows hadn’t been able to infiltrate Hybern again, the High Lord was already on the defensive, scouting out forces that Cassian might be able to direct in battle. The siphon on the back of his hand glimmered at the thought of the conflict, the promise of warfare, and like Rhys, already Cassian was preparing for the fight ahead. Violence pulsed beneath his skin, searching for an outlet, looking for blood to spill.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t longing for a fight.

And for Nesta… oh, for Nesta he’d take his retribution. Would claw it free. 

The King of Hybern would die at his hand.

Brutal and bloody and slow— he’d never exactly been one for regicide, but this was a death he’d savour. For what he’d done to Nesta, Cassian was going to tear the skin from the bastard’s bones, and he was going to relish every moment of it. 

Sapphire siphons flickered, like the warrior in Azriel could sense the rage in Cassian’s chest plumbing new, wholly-murderous, depths. 

“You alright?” the spymaster asked, his eyes shrewd. He glanced at the blood smeared across Cassian’s knuckles as his shadows skirted the General’s boots. 

Cassian laughed, bitter. “No.”

Az swiped a roll of cotton off the trestle table by the marked edge of the ring, stepping forward, crossing that line, and holding it out for Cassian to wrap his hands. Cassian only shook his head and turned away.

He needed to feel the pain.

“You know that it’s not your fault, Cass,” Azriel said slowly, dropping the hand that held the roll of cotton. 

Cassian didn’t bother to wonder at the way Az had cut right to the heart of what was bothering him. He’d always had an uncanny ability to sense exactly what was wrong, and when he glanced at Cassian’s bloodied fist again, it was like he knew without Cassian needing to say it that the blood he spilled today was spent in the hope that it might wash his hands clean of the blood Hybern had spilled at the Archeron manor that night. 

Cassian’s face darkened as he turned to his brother, his back to the sun. “Yes it is,” he countered. “Of course it is.”

“Then it’s as much my fault as yours,” Az insisted. “I was the one who told you everything was fine, and I was the one who only sent a shadow to Nesta’s house, not Elain’s. I was the one who didn’t fucking know Nesta was staying with her sister.”

“She’s my mate,” Cassian shot back, reducing his voice to a low hiss as he shook his head, sharp. “I promised to protect her. To protect them both. I’m the one that broke that vow, not you.”

Another tortured laugh left him. It didn’t matter that Nesta had all but said she didn’t blame him. Didn’t matter that he’d already had some version of this conversation before, with Rhys. He’d never been particularly good at letting things go. 

“What sort of fucking general does that make me?” he asked darkly, clenching his fists so hard his nails cut into the skin of his palms. “What fucking hope do we have for this war, when we can’t even protect the ones who matter most?”

In the silence Azriel’s face shifted, his eyes burning as he said nothing. He held Cassian’s eye for a long moment, something unspoken passing between them, a kind of understanding only a brother was capable of. And then, still silent, Azriel took off his jacket and began wrapping his hand in the cotton Cassian had forsaken. Cassian only turned back to the dummy, the anger beneath his skin needing an outlet fast, but this time, when he swung his fist, Azriel’s own hand darted out first, catching Cassian’s knuckles in the centre of his palm. The Shadowsinger’s own scarred fingers curled around Cassian’s bleeding fist, his grip tight as he pushed the General back, lowering his chin and widening his stance. 

“It won’t happen again,” Azriel swore. “Ever.”

Determination lined Azriel’s frame, his jaw set with stone-cold purpose as he looked, unflinching and unwavering, at his brother. And suddenly Cassian saw it, the violence that lined every inch of Azriel just as it lined every inch of him. Az didn’t like to be bested, and Hybern had bested them thrice, now. The only difference was that whereas Cassian’s anger was palpable and heavy, Azriel’s was cold and slick, sharpened to a lethal point. 

And both of them, it seemed, were ready to fight it out. 

Az offered him the cotton again, stepping further into the ring. “Wrap your hands,” he said firmly. “I’d rather you not get blood on my shirt.”

Cassian scoffed. “If you’re scared of getting a little bloody, Az, why the fuck are you even here?”

Azriel gave him a sly smirk. “Oh, I won’t be the one getting bloody.”

He shifted, making circles around the inner edge of the ring as Cassian twisted to keep track. His mind quieted entirely, his focus only on sparring now, like Az had known that pummelling the dummy wasn’t enough— had known that this was what Cassian had really needed. 

“Wrap your hands,” Az said again, tossing the roll of cotton across the ring.

With one hand, Cassian caught it. 

Slowly, he wrapped the material around his battered knuckles, and when he was done, when he brought his fists in line with his eyes, Azriel nodded again, dipping his chin before he looked up at the General and, with a feral grin, said,

“Let’s go, then.”

***

It wasn’t just Cassian’s knuckles that were bruised and bloody when they were done.

Both the General and the Spymaster were breathing hard, a thin sheen of sweat slicking both of their foreheads. As Cassian absently rubbed a hand over a rib that Azriel had landed three good punches to, Az filled two glasses with the water from the carafe the House had delivered to them. Already beneath the Shadowsinger’s jaw, a bruise was beginning to turn purple. 

“Better?” he asked as he passed off one glass of chilled water into Cassian’s sore hands.

Cassian drank deeply, hardly pausing long enough to nod in answer. The fight had smoothed the sharpest edges of his temper, and though it still felt like tides were raging inside his chest, it was more bearable than it had been that morning, at least.

Idle, Az leaned a hip against the low trestle table set against the wall. 

“Nesta’s hurting now,” he said slowly, keeping his voice low and careful, “but when the dust settles…”

Cassian stiffened. Already he knew exactly what it was that Azriel was about to say, could tell by the way his brother lifted his brows with something like sympathy, his eyes holding nothing but the truth as he tilted his head. But Cassian didn’t want to hear it— never wanted to hear it. 

“Cass,” Az continued quietly, “isn’t this all you wanted?”

Cassian slammed his glass down.

“No,” he said flatly, definitively, leaving no room for argument.

Mother bless him, Az backed off without another word, raising his palms in surrender.

“Alright,” he said, but his tone made it clear that he didn’t quite believe him, and Cassian couldn’t even fucking blame him, because suddenly he thought back to Mor, and the tear that had slipped silent down her face at the cabin in Windhaven when she’d told him about the human she’d once loved. The human she’d lost. The grief had been written all over her, and Cassian had felt a sinking in his gut when he looked at her and had to wonder if he was looking at what, exactly, the future held for him. 

And all those nights he’d spent fearing a life without Nesta in it... they were meaningless now. 

But he couldn’t say it out loud.

Would never say it out loud.

Az cleared his throat, letting his shadows gather at his wrists before finally letting his hands drop. He tilted his head back, took a deep breath as he filled his lungs with the morning air.

“Rhys said he’s coming up for dinner tonight, by the way,” he said, changing the subject in a move that Cassian was grateful for. “Mor and Amren, too.”

Cassian only nodded again, a silent acknowledgement as he straightened the leather half-gauntlet that housed the siphons on the back of one hand.

“Will you ask Nesta to join us?” Az asked. 

Cassian lifted his eyes, hesitating as he looked up at his brother from beneath a bunched brow. As if it were that simple— as if it were an invitation Nesta might somehow accept. He was already certain that he knew her answer and knew it would be a resounding no, and it must have shown on his face because Azriel let out a gentle sigh as he pushed off the table.

“Rhys mentioned that Mor wasn’t…” He trailed off, took another weary breath. Around his wrists, his shadows tightened, grew darker.

“Nesta’s number one fan?” Cassian supplied.

Az nodded grimly. “Mm.”

“She needs time,” Cassian said, his voice strained. Tired— he was so fucking tired, and he thought that Azriel must have known, because the Shadowsinger clapped him lightly on the shoulder as he plucked up his jacket, already preparing to leave. With a small smile, Az said,

“Ask her about tonight.” His tone was soft, a source of gentle encouragement. “Even if you know her answer. Ask her anyway.”

***

“I must say,” Amren said dryly, swirling the liquid in her glass as beyond the wide windows of the House dining room, the sun sank behind the mountains, “after everything Feyre told us, I was rather looking forward to finally meeting the eldest Archeron tonight.”

Seated off to her right, Mor flicked her eyes to the ceiling, pausing briefly as she cut into a slice of roasted chicken. “Perhaps you should’ve been the one to take her clothes, then,” she muttered, her elegant fingers tightening around her knife as she tossed her head back. 

Across the table, Cassian’s lip curled, a quiet snarl slipping between his teeth as, too late, Mor clamped her lips together. Avoiding his piercing stare, Mor busied herself by plucking up her wine, and even though some kind of guilt flickered briefly across her face, Cassian wasn’t fool enough to expect an apology. As predicted, Nesta had declined the invitation to dinner out of fear of leaving Elain, but as Cassian glanced between Mor and Amren now, he thought it was probably for the best that she’d decided to sit this one out. The words thrown to the wolves seemed to come to mind. 

Beside Mor, Rhys rolled his star-flecked eyes. 

“How are they? Nesta and Elain?” he asked, leaning back in the very same chair he’d occupied the first night he’d brought Feyre here. A deliberate choice, no doubt, and consciously or unconsciously, none of the rest of them had chosen to sit in the chair Feyre had that night, leaving the space to Rhys’ right conspicuously empty. 

Cassian shook his head as he poured himself a generous glass of wine. “Elain is awake, but she’s not exactly present. She speaks in riddles.” The table was silent; Amren’s face was more curious than anything, but Rhys’ eyes were dark with concern. Cassian forced himself to clear his throat, taking a large sip of wine before he continued, knowing that the words he was about to speak were ones he hadn’t yet found the strength to voice in front of Nesta. “I— don’t know how much the Cauldron affected her mind.”

Grim silence answered him. 

“And Nesta…”

Where did he even begin?

Nesta was exactly who she had been the first time he’d met her, a maelstrom of rage and fury that she tried so hard to contain and conceal. Every time he looked at her, he saw the pain limning her features, exactly the way it had that day in her father’s estate, when he’d stayed behind as Rhys and Az had brought down the Attor. The woman who had pulled away from him in the library was the one that had been so angry that first night in her father’s dining room, and only when she lowered her guard now did Cassian catch a glimpse of the Nesta that had, until recently, clung to him and let him see the sides of her she kept so deeply hidden. 

It killed him to think she’d gone back behind her walls, drawn a line in the sand that he could only occasionally cross. 

Rhys scowled. “Nesta is Nesta.”

Cassian set down his wineglass with a growl rumbling deep in his chest. “And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

His brother sighed, waving a hand in a gesture so weary it might have given Cassian pause had Rhys said literally anything else. “Come on, Cass. She’s entirely Illyrian in spirit.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Cassian said, his voice low, just a shade shy of combative. Beside him, Azriel’s shadows had skittered up his master’s arms to wreathe his shoulders in darkness, like they could sense the fight brewing beneath Cassian’s skin and had flocked to Az like armour.

But the Shadowsinger himself had stilled, too. 

Still staying at the House of Wind, Azriel had been the only other member of Rhys’ Inner Circle besides Cassian to make a fucking effort with the eldest of Feyre’s sisters. Cassian had even entered the private library the other day to find Nesta and Azriel sitting in companionable silence on opposite ends of one of the largest couches, a book held in each of their hands. Neither of them had looked up as Cassian entered, but Az’s shadows had skirted along the edge of the couch, and Cassian hadn’t said a word as he strode past them, knowing that Nesta would have his head if he disturbed her reading. He’d only touched her shoulder lightly as he passed, heading for the other end of the library.

“It could be a bad thing,” Rhys pointed out dryly, dragging Cassian out of his thoughts and doing nothing to calm the temper that was building like a storm within his veins. “We still don’t have any idea what power she came out of that Cauldron with.”

At that, Amren leaned forward in her chair at the head of the table, setting down her glass containing something that didn’t look even the slightest bit like wine. Her sharp eyes glinted, reminding Cassian of the birds of prey that hunted deep in the Illyrian mountains.

“You should find out what exactly she can do with that silver in her eyes. Start training it.”

Cassian whipped his head towards her. With Rhys opposite him and Amren off to his side, he couldn’t help but feel cornered. 

The ancient fae only sniffed delicately and dragged a gold-ringed finger around the rim of her glass before adding, “I’ll train her myself, if you don’t want to get too close to whatever it is that she stole from the Cauldron.”

“Mother knows what might happen if she doesn’t train it,” Rhys contributed, his eyes dark and troubled. “She needs to learn how to control it—“

“Or maybe we should just give her the time she needs to figure things out for herself first,” Cassian growled, his words slipping through teeth so tightly gritted it was a wonder he could open his jaw at all. “You’re asking her to run way before she can walk.”

Amren hummed. “She’ll need to run, boy, if Hybern reaches these shores.” Her lips split in a smile that showed her teeth. “Why waste time waiting for her to come to terms with that power, when what we need is for her to bring death and destruction raining down on our enemy?”

“She is not your fucking weapon.”

“Not yet,” Amren shrugged.

Cassian snarled again, the anger a living thing beneath his skin, a second pulse that had his heartbeat starting to quicken. 

It had never bothered him before, when Amren spoke about him like he was only as good as the number of punches he could throw, or only as worthy as the number of legions he could lead. But when she turned that same perspective on Nesta…

Rhys was silent.

Cassian wasn’t a fool. He knew exactly why Rhys had sat in that chair tonight. It was a deliberate attempt at remembering another dinner, another time. But Cassian couldn’t sit back and think of better times whilst Amren and his brother spoke of his mate like she was some kind of tool to be utilised. 

“Don’t do this,” he said darkly, the fury sinking into his blood, calcifying in his bones until it was solid and silent, but no less potent. His eyes were hard when he looked at his brother, met those violet eyes and refused to look away. “Using her like a weapon— now that’s entirely Illyrian in spirit.”

Rhys’ eyes guttered, the few stars that had shone there swallowed as Amren pursed her lips. 

Midnight claws brushed against the defences in Cassian’s mind; a silent plea for entry.

I’m sorry, Rhys murmured when Cassian dropped his shield, saying nothing as his brother’s voice echoed, guilt-ridden, inside his mind. I know I said I’d back off, but with Feyre still in Spring and us still no nearer to knowing what exactly Hybern is planning to do…

Cassian met his brother’s eye across the table. 

I know, he answered. I’m just as fucking exhausted with all this as you are. But don’t forget, Rhys, that Feyre might be your mate, but Nesta is mine. I won’t push her to do anything she doesn’t want to. These powers, whatever they are… she’s fucking terrified of them.

Rhys lowered his chin, having the good sense to at least look chastened. The silent conversation hung between them, heavy, but Cassian kept the memory of Nesta all but fleeing that library locked behind his shield, refusing to think of the way she’d looked so broken. Rhys said nothing more, like for once he couldn’t quite find the words, and Cassian had nothing else to say either. There was nothing else left.

And then Azriel - Mother bless him - cleared his throat.

“Well, whatever her power is, the House certainly seems to like Nesta more than any of us, now,” he said lightly. 

Rhys frowned, straightening as he severed the mental bridge that connected him to Cassian. “The House isn’t sentient.”

Cassian settled back in his chair. Took a breath. Took several. When he lifted his wine to his lips and drank deep, he forced himself to calm as he looked at his brother and said,

“I don’t know. We might have always thought so, but…”

Az hummed. “Even I’ve noticed it, the past couple of days.”

“Noticed what?” Mor asked, the bracelets at her wrists singing as she linked her fingers beneath her chin, resting her elbows on the table’s polished surface. 

“It seems to anticipate what she needs— what she wants,” Azriel answered. 

Az had been there, in the private library, when the House had delivered Nesta a fresh cup of tea when the one she already had had gone cold. Cassian had been by the window, looking out longingly over the city, wanting to feel the wind beneath him, when Nesta had looked up in surprise. Azriel had quirked a brow, asked her if she had somehow found a way to communicate with the House silently, but Nesta had simply shrugged and said the House seemed to just… know what she wanted. Az had met Cassian’s eye curiously, and Cassian had frowned as he tilted his head, but ultimately they had both moved on because… well, what explanation did they have?

Rhys’ face turned contemplative. “You’re telling me the House’s magic is changing?”

In tandem, both Cassian and Azriel shrugged.

“It’s possible, I suppose.” Rhys trailed off, tapping a finger against his chin as he mused. “Whatever power she’s been given… It does feel familiar to me, somehow. Perhaps the House has... latched onto her. The High Lord that spelled it so many years ago may have had a similar power to whatever Nesta’s is. Perhaps the House can sense it.”

Cassian shrugged again. Perhaps Rhys was right— perhaps that was all it was, similar magics reacting to one another. But silently he couldn’t help but wonder if the House hadn’t also begun to sense how great Nesta’s power was, and had already begun to yield to her. Or was that just because he’d been yielding to her every day since he’d met her?

Mor flicked her gleaming blonde hair over her shoulder as she waved a hand. “This is entirely too serious a topic for such a nice dinner,” she declared, raising her glass. “Let’s just thank the House for such good wine and leave it at that, sentient or not.”

Rhys rolled his eyes. “It’s still my wine the House brings up from the cellars, you know. How often do you thank me?”

Mor only brushed him off, practically shooing him with a flick of her fingers that had her rings clinking against one another like chimes. “I thank you plenty,” she countered. “You get to enjoy my delightful company, and isn’t that recompense enough?”

Rhys snorted.

Even Amren smirked a little, and with the banter that came so naturally between them lightening the atmosphere, the tension that had, only a moment ago, been a noose around Cassian’s neck loosened. In good-natured disagreement, Rhys rolled his eyes again, nudging Mor with an elbow in the ribs that she dodged so neatly the wine in her glass barely even sloshed. And just like that, the mood shifted.

“Anyway,” the blonde said brightly, steering the topic and leaning forwards until both elbows rested on the table. “How are the wings holding up, Cass?”

She nodded to the wings at his back, the membrane soaking up the warmth from the fireplace behind him. Wordlessly, Cassian stretched them until he could take no more, managing to get them only an inch away from full extension before he grimaced and let them rest again. Mor’s face was contemplative, and though she smiled softly to see how much he had healed already, there was something else in her eyes too— a spark in her eye that Cassian hadn’t seen for a while. 

“How long till you can fly normally again?” she asked, her tone one that was casual on the surface, but one that he’d long since learned meant she was up to something.

“Too long,” Cassian grumbled in answer. 

“A month at least, I bet,” Mor said, those familiar eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’d stake six gold coins on it.” 

She turned her attention to Azriel, a quirk of one perfect brow matching the curve of her lips as she grinned in silent question.

The Shadowsinger hummed, contemplative as he glanced sidelong as his brother. “Three weeks,” he countered, laying a hand on the table. “Ten gold coins.”

Mor snorted, but nodded once before extending a hand for Azriel to shake. Cassian looked on, wry amusement pulling the tension from his bones, and when Az looked at him and muttered, darkly, you’d better be back flying a hundred leagues a day within three weeks, Cassian let out a dry laugh and shook his head.

“Pricks,” he muttered. “I can’t believe you’re betting on this.”

Az shrugged. “You’d do the same.”

And Cassian said nothing, because Azriel was right. He fucking would— had made his fair share of stupid bets on his friends over the centuries. So he couldn’t argue as Mor sank back into her chair with a grin. He only rolled his eyes and raised his middle finger. 

Mor laughed, and Azriel’s lips split into a small smirk as, at the head of the table, Amren drank from her cup and rolled her eyes with something like indulgence as Rhys sat back and watched them.

And for a moment Cassian might have been able to convince himself that it was fifty years ago— that they were back up here before the curse had torn them apart, laughing the way they used to, the city at their feet, the stars in the sky gleaming down on them as they depleted Rhys’ wine cellar.

But then he thought of Feyre— of Nesta.

He glanced to the door.

It might have been fifty years ago, but for the shadows under Rhys’ eyes that were proof of how much Feyre had forever altered the high lord.

Might have been fifty years ago, but for the way Cassian kept glancing to the door, the bald hope on his face that he’d see her the proof of how much Nesta had forever altered him.

And still he looked. He laughed, and he drank with his brothers, and still he looked.

And he waited.

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[skania]

OnK Chapter 158 Thoughts

This is literally me every time Akane shows up 😭

It was so cute to see Ruby so happy to see Akane! It feels like the two must have grown close again off-panel after this happened:

Akane looks so cute, too 😭

Onto the more pressing matters, first thing that caught my eye was that the concert took place in Miyazaki, aka the town where Goro & Sarina lived and died. According to Akane, she had "some business" there. This business is quite obviously not something she is keen to discuss, considering her reaction.

Could the business be keeping tabs on our resident psycho, the one and only Nino?

To be perfect honest, I'd also hope that "business" involves Akane doing some digging about Goro...

...But since I've gotten used to not having nice things in this manga, I'll just settle for Akane tailing Nino and keeping an eye on her, because that feels like the in-character thing for her to do.

So we could say that the beginning of the chapter establishes that Akane may be tailing Nino.

That's one thing to keep in mind.

Moving on, Akane says that she "might not be able to make it" to the Christmas concert. The very concert Kana will Graduate in. The one where Kana is expecting a reply from Aqua.

Akane (and her now patented ^^ smile) is vague enough that we can read it in various ways. Could it be that Akane doesn't quite want to watch the concert where she's expecting Kana and Aqua to get together? Or could it be that she has something more important to do that day?

And if she does, could that involve the 'Happy Ending' she and Aqua discussed two chapters ago?

That's another thing to keep in mind.

Speaking about Aqua, since Christmas in Japan is a holiday for couples, we get this very funny, very interesting panel from Ruby, who looks anything but supportive at the thought of Akane dating someone new lol

Looks like Ruby isn't too keen on Akane moving on from her precious brother. It's up in the air whether that's just Ruby being a brocon or because Akane still has her seal of approval to date him, though.

Akane really has this fake smile down to an art lmao

Next we get an Akane monologue where we're told that despite Kana being a force to be reckoned with, she can't match up to Ruby, who outshines her.

When I read those words, they automatically reminded me of Nino, who went through the same thing with Ai. Fittingly enough, we later get this Nino panel, where Memcho's face is obscured and only Ruby and Kana can be seen.

We also happen to get this ominous panel where Akane shows she's aware that there are people out there who want to "destroy" Ruby's sparkle. This is another thing to keep in mind.

I'm curious as to what Ruby was about to say when the scene cuts to Nino, but I won't speculate about it. Tsukuyomi's monologue was also interesting, in the sense that it tells us how Aqua's, Nino's and Kamiki's love for Ai has gotten all twisted.

Next thing we know, we get a timeskip. Aka has literally timeskipped us straight to Christmas, aka Kana's graduation concert.

The rushed pacing alone would've been hilarious if it weren't for what happens next.

Let's summarize everything Aka has established in the past few chapters up to now, shall we?

Aqua and Akane know that Nino is behind all the deaths in the manga. We have no idea how they realized this, but Aka took the time to show that they magically knew it. We're thus led to believe that this is important.

Akane wants to ensure everyone's future holds a happy ending, and Aqua is aware of this. Considering that both of them outright discuss Nino, we're led to assume that they may team up to make sure she's dealt with.

To this end, Akane may be, quite literally, tailing Nino.

Meanwhile, Ruby herself is being constantly watched by Miyako and Ichigo, to the point she says she doesn't have a single second of alone time.

Moreover, Akane pretty much summarizes in this chapter why Nino would target Ruby.

So I must ask:

Taking all of this into account, in what world does this make any sense at all?

The door even had a window! A window!

And even if it isn't see-through, we've been told over and over again that idols need to have keychains and security systems to protect themselves from crazy fans. Ai herself says so.

So in what world does it make sense for Ruby to get stabbed like that?? lol

Now, the stab in and of itself is anything but surprising. The manga hasn't exactly been subtle lately about Ruby likely becoming Nino's target. Some of us thought that Gotanda's line about Kana protecting Ruby was foreshadowing and that Kana would tank the stab for Ruby. Others thought that Kamiki would be the one to step in to save his daughter, one good deed to help atone for his past wrongs.

Whatever the case, despite our personal preferences and hopes for this manga, we all knew that Ruby was in danger and that someone would be getting stabbed. Some of us even expected it to happen this week because it's the week where Sayahime would be getting slashed in the manga lmao

So how am I supposed to believe that Aqua and Akane, who somehow even figured out Nino killed Yura and thus her motif, didn't take the necessary measures to not let it happen? lol

Even the lead up to it is... bland. Forced. Nonsensical. Why isn't Ruby shown curiously peeking at the door just like Ai would've done? Why don't we see her behaving normally at all before she opens the door?

The stab page is pretty much a copy-paste from Ai's, so why not go all the way and have a repeat of these panels, too?

This all could be explained by forced, bad writing — an Aka staple, certainly. And I wouldn't be surprised if that's the case. In fact all of this must sound silly coming from me, since I've been laughing about Aka's mess for weeks now. But biased as I am, I'm kind of forced to take the bad writing more seriously when my favorite character is directly impacted by it 😂

So I'd like to think that Akane and Aqua did see this coming and that they have a contingency plan. In fact, I'd even go as far as saying that I'd like to believe that the stab itself is staged. There are certainly enough weird things about it to make room for that possibility. The first thing I wondered about when the leaks dropped was if it could be someone pretending to be Ruby to trick Nino, and the lead-up to the stab does leave room for that possibility imo

Akane (or Aqua) with a wig, or even Ruby herself but aware of the plan — I would literally take anything at this point except the very empty, very forced scenario where Ruby truly just got stabbed because everything established in the previous chapters suddenly ceased to matter lol Heck, I'd even take Akane using a prop knife to give Ruby a scare and force Miyako & Ichigo to take measures to keep Ruby safe during the concert. Would it be silly? Absolutely. But this entire situation is already silly as it is, so I'll settle for the lesser evil lol

The story can't keep making Aqua & Akane ridiculously intelligent when it suits it, and normal when it doesn't. It's inconsistent and most of all, it's unnecessary. They could just as well have figured it out after the fact, alongside the reader, which would have drastically increased the emotional impact of the Nino reveal from: predictable and rushed to predictable but impactful.

If this was done so that Aqua and Akane can question themselves and their desire to shoulder the darkness to protect others, couldn't this be done in a better way? Because as it is, if everything is just as it seems, then Aka has deliberately kept Aqua and Akane from growing just so he can force them to do so through shock value alone.

I know I always say that I don't like predicting Aka, but I thought it'd be revealed that they had enlisted everyone's help to deliberately lure Nino into targeting Ruby during the Christmas concert, and that they would catch her red-handed before she could hurt Ruby. Since I figured that Aka may want someone to get stabbed anyway so that Aqua could put his medical knowledge to use, I thought that something would go wrong during the confrontation with Nino and that she would manage to hurt someone either way.

Maybe it was my mistake to expect any sort of consistency from Aka. Time and time again he shows that all he cares about is his perfect timing, and so characters will do whatever they have to do and will be kept as stagnant as they need to be in order for their development to happen only when that perfect timing has been reached. Like the way he rushed and rushed just so the stab could happen at the same time as the Saya slashing in the anime.

I do wonder though, aside from Ruby being immortalized as the ultimate idol through surviving the same attack Ai died from (and Kana's graduation happening at the Dome, because who wouldn't want B-Komachi at the Dome after this), what would be the point of this? Will Aqua magically get there in time so he can use his medic knowledge? Will Tsukuyomi perform a miracle? Or will we get a few chapters of people crying over Ruby's hospital bed while Nino keeps being crazy in the background?

No matter how I look at it, I feel like the only scenario where the writing is (somewhat) salvaged is the one where things aren't as they seem and this is all part of a plan we aren't privy to. Making Nino think that she has killed Ruby, only for Ruby to get on-stage brighter than ever would be a pretty cool twist.

If there is no twist though, then characters were made to look circumstantially dumb and incompetent just so Aka can have some last hurrah in the form of forced drama lol

So yeah, as per usual, I'll be hoping for the better option out of the two while preparing myself for the worst outcome.

Edit: I literally forgot KAMIKI lmao if not Aqua and Akane, KAMIKI should know that Nino is definitely going to go after Ruby. Why would he just sit on his butt and let it happen??

If there's no twist at all, this will seriously be an all-out character massacre 💀