#comments and constructive reviews are welcome

[rey-129-fan]

Well, it's been a while since I've posted any fanfic... Let's change that.

Good news! I'm not dead! My brain did try to get me to do things that could unalive myself for a bit, and then I lost nearly an entire side of my family over the span of 3 years, but I'm still here and still kicking! And I have two new puppies who are adorable and so loving.

Now for this story, this is inspired by a few posts I saw on @theglamorousferal, mostly the one about Amity Parkers going to college in Gotham and buying a hotel (I'm making it a co-op student house, but I've never lived in one, so if something's unacceptably wrong, tell me, if not, artistic license), but also the one where our main Trio buy a building to set up shop there, and wind up adopted my Jason (I swear, I saw that post after I wrote the first chapter, but it just fit so well).

***

Honestly, Amity Park was weird long before the Fentons moved there- the original settlers named the nearby lake Eerie, and it wasn’t after the Great Lake.  It’s just that before the Fentons’ machine punched a hole through reality and created a permanent doorway to the land of spirits and ghosts, the weirdness was not as blatant.

Prior to that, Amity Parkers were some of the few that could move to Gotham without suffering a breakdown that was common for new arrivals.  Now there was a slight dip in newcomers for about a decade or two after the Bat made his debut and then the crazies that followed him, but then Amity Parkers got used to the spirits of the dead wandering around following the aforementioned punching through reality.

All this to say that Gotham Universities were a rather common destination for young Amity Park adults seeking higher education.

Now because of this, there were always apartments advertising themselves for people from the small town.  They, after all, tended to not have a breakdown after their fifth rogue attack and just pack up and leave halfway through their lease.  But it got very annoying having to sift through all the advertisements when looking for a place to stay- something Danny Fenton saw his older sister go through when she got in to Gotham City University.  The boy then shared what he was witnessing with his two best friends- Tucker Foley and Sam Manson.  Tucker offered to help filter out the spam, which Danny’s sister Jazz thanked him for but turned down.  Sam… Sam instead got thinking.

Sam had been to Gotham a few times in her life.  She had an idea of the areas closest to the schools and how much those should cost.  And looking at the letters Jazz was getting, the offers were a little too high for a regular college student to afford.  Sam was also familiar with how many hotels were not being used in Gotham- people building them in hopes tourists would come to stay while visiting the East Coast, tourists that could not be convinced to visit due to the high crime rate and the lack of activities or places of interest in the city itself.

She quickly went to work, looking in to these empty hotels.  She was rather upset by their numbers and put together a spreadsheet of them, with details like number of rooms, any amenities they may have, and nearby landmarks.  She then grabbed her two dorks and marched to Casper High’s Community Outreach director.

Now Sam’s presentation raised a few eyebrows, mostly because it was in a completely different state, but Sam shot back that because of the efforts to incorporate the town’s new ghostly residents and provide them with helpful ways to feed their obsessions- efforts led by the Fenton family- Amity Park had very few homeless, and those that were had a huge community safety net to help them get back on their feet.  Additionally, with how many people moved between the city and the town, helping the city could be argued to also be helping the town.

The Outreach Director just sighed and gave Same the green light to at least draft and send out a proposal to the powers that be in Gotham, saying that there wasn’t much that could be done before they got backing and approval.  Sam thanked them before leaving, Danny and Tucker trailing behind.

She was back the next day with a draft of her proposal and a list of who to send it to.

***

Since returning from the dead in the eyes of the public, Jason Todd was often contacted by groups trying to use the Wayne fortune to fund their own personal projects.  They thought Jason would be the easiest to con- sorry, persuade- since he was a former street kid unlike the rest of his family.  Thus surely he would know just how much this new building with low income housing would help the people of Gotham- it even came with a pool and gym!

Yeah, he did know how much the people of Gotham needed housing, but $2K a month was not affordable when you’re barely making $30K a year!  Oh and the pool and gym were only available for those who could shell out an additional $2K a month.  Jason knows, he read the whole document carefully.

God, sometimes it was hard to tell who was worse, the psychos in Blackgate or real estate investors.  And sadly, he couldn’t just pop a bullet in their heads and be done with it because 1) it would raise too many questions and 2) it would make Bruce get all sad and mopey- again.  Jason just did not have the mental energy to put up with that on top of the rest of his life as a crimelord/vigilante/long-lost adoptive second son of a billionaire.

All this to say, he was not impressed when he first glanced over a proposal to convert the unused hotels around the city into housing units- especially since it was from someone that did not live in Gotham.

Manson?  Wasn’t there a family with that name that would attend some of Brucie’s galas?  Oh yeah, their family made its fortune off patenting the machine that wrapped toothpicks in plastic, as well as a couple others.  And they had a daughter around Repla- Tim’s age.  Hopefully this wasn’t her trying to be a kiss-ass like her parents.

Jason finished reading and sat back.  The proposal wasn’t too bad.  Converting hotels into apartment buildings would be easier than office buildings, and the suggestion to use ex-convicts that wanted to turn over a new leaf as building managers certainly wasn’t the worst.  Also creating a fund for those that couldn’t afford rent, as well as community kitchens and gardens were certain plusses, though would need to have the right people in charge to make sure they actually worked as planned, and to keep the Court of Owls from messing with it.

Overall, it was something Jason would consider, after some research and maybe talking with the rest of the Bats and Birds.  And if this was from the Manson kid, maybe get Dickie or one of the others to talk to her next time there was a gala in town.  Or talk to her himself, if the Pit wasn’t too loud.

…Dick was probably the better option to talk with her if it came down to it.

***

There's the first chapter. I'm going to go write the next one. When I have a good log of them, I'll then go and edit them and put them on AO3.

This has no title yet because I suck at naming. Feel free to comment with suggestions for a name, both for the fic/au and for the eventual hotel/co op. As well as any shinanegans and majors/colleges/universities for our liminal young adults.

Part 1/? Next >

[staff]

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[fr0stf4ll]

A court of Shadows and Moonlight - Part 3

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the wake of looming war and changing traditions, a gifted healer returns to the Night Court after centuries of wandering the continents. Tasked with stepping into Madja’s legendary role, she must guide reluctant healers, soothe wounded warriors, and face the entrenched prejudice of Illyrian leaders. But as she mends torn wings and broken spirits, an unexpected bond awakens between her and the Night Court’s enigmatic Spymaster. With rivalries simmering and a dangerous threat looming on the horizon, she must reconcile duty and desire, learning that true healing can extend beyond flesh and bone—if she dares to embrace the light hidden among the shadows.

word count ; 4k

Trigger warning; Blood, pain, injuries.

notes; Hello everyone! Thank you so much for the comments on the previous parts. I'm so happy that you’re enjoying this story (because I personally am, lol). Don't hesitate to give feedback, as I'm trying to improve overall! I have uploaded all of my stories on AO3 if any of you are more comfortable reading on the other platform. Also, my requests are open if any of you are interested. It's vacation time for me, so I have more time these days. <3 See you soon and enjoy part 3!

Link; Part 2 or Part 4

-----

Weeks had turned into a comfortable rhythm, each day drawing you deeper into the heart of your new responsibilities. Winter’s chill still lingered outside, but within the clinic’s halls, warmth and purpose filled the air. Madja had constructed a careful routine—mornings spent reviewing patient logs, afternoons dedicated to meeting the healers who operated throughout Velaris and beyond, and late afternoons or early evenings tending to those who required care. You found yourself adjusting more easily than you’d anticipated, the constant hum of healing magic and quiet conversation making the place feel more like home with each passing day.

Your old room at the hostel now felt like a distant memory. Within a week of settling in, Madja gently insisted that you take the apartment above the small clinic—originally her own workspace and resting spot. At first, you hesitated, still feeling like an outsider who had just returned, but Madja’s firm yet kind encouragement made it clear that this was part of the transition. Now, the apartment’s modest rooms welcomed you each evening: a simple bed with a soft quilt, a desk cluttered with your notes and sketches, and shelves lined with medical texts and herb guides. There was a small window overlooking the Sidra, and sometimes at dusk you’d watch the lamplight glitter on the water, heart at ease.

Costa, your horse, had been entrusted to a capable ostler in Velaris—an Illyrian female who handled the animal with gentle expertise. Knowing Costa was well-fed and groomed, free to stretch his legs in a stable yard not far from the city’s edge, soothed the restless part of your mind. You missed riding, missed the quiet hours of travel with Costa’s steady hooves on unknown roads, but for now you needed to be here, grounded and ready to step fully into Madja’s role.

You’d met most of the healers who had worked under Madja’s guidance—some younger than you, bright-eyed and eager, others older, with steady hands and calm smiles. They greeted you politely, some with curiosity and others with measured caution, as if trying to understand what this new change meant for them. Madja still hovered at your shoulder during these introductions, offering subtle nudges of reassurance. Gradually, you learned their names, their specializations, their quirks. You discovered who excelled at mending broken bones, who shone at delicate surgeries, who possessed the gentlest bedside manner for frightened children. Each person became a piece of a larger tapestry, one you would soon be charged with overseeing.

In between these professional duties, you’d also been summoned to meet with the High Lady, Feyre, on several occasions. These meetings were less formal than you expected—Feyre seemed determined to put you at ease. She asked thoughtful questions about your travels, your impressions of the healing wards, and the ways you might improve the system Madja had built. Often, Rhysand or one of the other Inner Circle members would be present—Cassian slouching in a chair with that easy grin, Azriel standing quietly near a window, shadows at his shoulders. The High Lord listened intently, violet eyes calm, while Feyre nodded, her hand sometimes resting lightly atop a stack of parchment filled with notes.

They all gave the impression of patient confidence. They trusted Madja’s choice, and by extension, they trusted you. That trust both comforted and weighed on you. You were determined not to disappoint them, not to squander the opportunity to shape Velaris’s healing corps into something more agile, more prepared. If war truly loomed on the horizon—whispers still lingering in the court’s quieter corners—then every ounce of skill and knowledge you possessed would be needed.

Evenings found you often at your desk, reviewing patient charts by lamplight. Sometimes Madja would join you, a mug of herbal tea in hand, and together you’d discuss strategy and staffing. At other times you’d work alone, jotting down improvements to the triage system or ways to store emergency supplies more efficiently. The silence of the small apartment felt companionable rather than lonely. You were home, after all these years, in a place that recognized your abilities and gave them purpose.

One morning you awoke early, pushing open the window to let in a crisp breeze. The scent of bread baking somewhere below drifted up, and you smiled. Outside, Velaris shimmered under pale winter sunlight. The city no longer felt quite so strange or distant. You were beginning to know its streets again, to navigate its corners without hesitation. In the stillness, before the day’s demands rose up to greet you, you allowed yourself a small, private moment of contentment.

You had found your footing, a rhythm that matched Madja’s measured guidance with your own growing confidence. Soon enough, Madja would step back fully, leaving you to guide these healers through whatever trials awaited. The thought no longer filled you with anxiety, but with a quiet resolve. You were ready—or at least you would be, by the time Madja’s gentle presence receded from your daily life.

For now, you cherished these weeks of transition: the gentle hum of voices in the clinic halls, the scent of fresh bread and simmering broths, the steady beat of your heart as you prepared to carry on the legacy of a healer who’d believed in you from the start.

———

It was late—well past the hour when the clinic’s final lamp should have been dimmed. Yet, there you were, hunched over a desk scattered with patient files, sketches, and half-finished notes on new salves. Outside, snow whispered against the windowpanes, muffling the night sounds of Velaris. The quiet calm of your small workspace was broken abruptly by a fierce pounding at the clinic doors.

You startled, heart lurching into your throat. Who would come at this time? Without hesitation, you rose and hurried down the corridor, slippers slapping softly against the floor. Approaching the door, you called, “Who is it?” But another series of urgent knocks answered you first.

Flinging it open, you found Cassian standing there, breathing hard, eyes wide with panic and urgency. He said nothing at first, just grabbed at your arm as if to anchor himself. The wild look in his gaze told you something was terribly wrong. Already, you could feel the adrenaline surging, steeling your nerves.

“I need you,” he managed, voice tight and rough. “It’s Azriel.”

You didn’t waste a second—no words of reassurance, no questions. Instead, you spun on your heel, darting back into the clinic’s supply room. Your hands moved with practiced speed, snatching up a medical bag and stuffing in gauze, vials of herbs, antiseptic solutions, and needles for suturing. You threw in a few carefully sealed packs of medicinal leaves, even a small jar of pain-relief tonic. Whatever you might need, because you didn’t know what awaited you.

“Come,” Cassian urged, voice raw. He led you out into the cold night, scarcely giving you time to close the door behind you. Before you knew it, he had scooped you up in a practiced motion and launched into the air. The sudden whoosh of icy wind shocked your lungs, but you clutched your bag tighter, keeping your head low and trusting Cassian’s strong arms and powerful wings to carry you safely. The moonlit panorama of Velaris rushed beneath, a blur of snowy rooftops and dim, golden lights.

Within moments, the House of Wind’s silhouette rose against the starry sky. Cassian landed hard, not bothering with a gentle approach. He half-dragged you inside, footsteps echoing down silent corridors. You found yourself nearly running at his side, alarm thudding in your chest. You followed him through winding halls, the hush of the night fractured by his ragged breathing and the frantic scuff of boots on stone.

He burst into the living area and there, on the massive table that usually served as a gathering place for the Inner Circle’s quiet talks or strategic meetings, lay Azriel. One glance at him and your stomach clenched: his wings—those powerful, graceful wings—looked shredded, raw gashes marring the membranes, blood staining the wood beneath him. Deep cuts scored his arms, his chest. He was breathing, but it was shallow and uneven, face drawn tight with pain.

Rhysand and Feyre hovered nearby, their eyes filled with worry. The High Lord’s jaw was clenched, hands fisted by his sides as if struggling to maintain composure. Feyre’s face was pale, knuckles white where she gripped the table’s edge. Neither dared approach the wounds, knowing to leave it to you.

You didn’t hesitate. “Clear some space,” you ordered, voice firm. Your professionalism took over, pushing aside the horror and fear. You dropped your bag on a nearby chair and quickly rolled up your sleeves.

Azriel’s half-lidded eyes flicked toward you, recognition and relief mingling with agony. His teeth were clenched hard enough to crack. You met his gaze steadily, letting him see that you were here and you would help. Cassian took a shaky breath and stepped back, giving you room.

“Tell me what happened later,” you said sharply to anyone listening, as your fingers deftly opened your medical kit. “For now, we stabilize him.”

A hush fell. The High Lord and High Lady stepped back, trusting you implicitly. Azriel’s shallow breathing and the soft drip of blood became the only sounds. You placed a hand gently near one of the deep cuts, already planning how to close the wounds, which salves to apply first, how to handle the delicate membranes of those damaged wings.

“Azriel,” you said softly, your voice calm and sure, “I need you to hold on. I’m here now.”

He gave an almost imperceptible nod, and you began working, every movement precise and determined. This was what you had trained for, traveled for, returned home for—moments like this, where skill and resolve would mend what cruelty had torn.

“Azriel, drink this,” you said firmly, pressing a small vial to his lips. He tried to turn his head away, but Rhysand and Cassian held him steady, their expressions grim. With a trembling swallow, Azriel took the tonic, his face contorting as the bitter taste hit his tongue. The mixture would dull the pain, buy you precious minutes to work.

You spared no time waiting for the tonic to take full effect. Turning abruptly, you called out to Feyre, voice steady and certain despite the chaos. “Open the windows and doors—all of them,” you ordered.

A flicker of confusion passed over everyone present. Feyre hesitated, eyes darting from you to Rhys, who gave a subtle nod. Then she darted across the living room, unlatching windows, throwing open doors. The chill of the night air swept in, carrying scents of snow and starlight. The House of Wind sat high above Velaris, offering nothing but open sky and a tapestry of stars. The moon hung low and bright, and its silver light spilled across the table, across Azriel’s bloodied form.

Cassian’s grip tightened on Azriel’s arm as the spymaster struggled feebly. Azriel let out a ragged hiss of pain, trying to curl in on himself. You reached out, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, meeting his gaze with steady determination. “Hold him still,” you directed, and Rhysand and Cassian complied, pinning him just firmly enough to keep him from thrashing as you worked.

The sudden openness, the influx of night air and celestial glow, began to make sense. You lifted your hands above Azriel’s body, fingers spread, eyes focused. The moonlight brightened, as if drawn closer by your intent. It pooled onto the table, over his torn wings and deep gashes, shimmering faintly. With careful, precise motions of your hands and a calm, centering breath, you guided that gentle lunar glow.

A thin thread of silvery radiance wound down from the sky, through the open spaces, into your hands. It took on a living quality—like a liquid beam of starlight. Guided by your focus and your will, it slipped into the wounds that needed attention most urgently. You could feel the damage through the magic, each ragged edge of flesh and shredded membrane translating into a sensation of raw, quivering energy beneath your palms.

Your eyes narrowed as you directed the moonlit thread along the worst injuries first—carving a path from torn wing membranes to a deep slash near Azriel’s ribs. Under that gentle illumination, blood flow began to slow, tissues knitting just enough to prevent him from bleeding out. His breathing, ragged moments before, evened fractionally, each breath less desperate than the last.

Everyone watched in stunned silence. Rhysand’s eyes, wide with a combination of shock and relief, met yours briefly as you worked. Cassian’s knuckles were white where he gripped Azriel’s shoulder, but he dared not speak. Feyre stood by the open window, the night breeze stirring her hair, eyes reflecting amazement as she realized what you had done.

You had brought the very light of the cosmos into your healing—the moon and stars aiding your skill. Focused entirely on Azriel, you guided that pale, silvery essence along lacerations, coaxing flesh to mend, halting the most life-threatening bleeding. Each moment counted, each movement of your hand coaxed more life back into him, steadied his pulse, strengthened the tenuous hold he had on consciousness.

And so, amid the hush of the night and the quiet gasps of onlookers, you let that quiet moonlight flow from your fingertips. If any doubts remained about why Madja trusted you, why you had returned at this critical time, they dissolved into silver luminescence and slow, steady healing.

“Turn him over,” you instructed, your voice steady despite the rapid pace of your heart. You had stabilized Azriel enough that he was no longer on the brink of collapse, but if he couldn’t use his wings, he might never fly again—an unthinkable loss for an Illyrian warrior. Rhysand and Cassian exchanged a glance, then moved together, careful and deliberate, rolling Azriel onto his stomach.

Your breath misted in the chill air drifting from the open windows, but you barely noticed it. All your senses were focused on the damage stretched before you. His wings—those proud, powerful wings—were torn and ragged, membranes frayed, the framework bruised and bleeding. Gently placing your palm near a particularly deep tear, you summoned the silvery light again, coaxing it along the rips and gashes. The quiet hush of the room pressed in, everyone mesmerized by the shimmering moonlight threading through your fingertips into Azriel’s wounds.

Bit by bit, you restored what had been brutally disrupted. You couldn’t make it perfect, not instantly, but you could ensure that he would heal, that flight would remain possible. Rhysand and Cassian kept him still, muscles taut with the effort of not jarring his injuries. Feyre stood watchful by the open window, letting in the night’s gentle glow. Her features were tense but hopeful.

When you had done all you could, you nodded once, giving them permission to turn Azriel back onto his back. His breathing was steadier now, his expression more tranquil. The moonlight’s touch lingered over the last of the cuts on his chest and arms. Methodically, you sealed them, coaxing bleeding vessels to close, torn muscle to knit. The worst damage handled, you eased back, allowing the faint star-born thread of light to dissolve, the connection with the celestial glow fading as you willed it so.

Azriel’s lashes fluttered, a quiet groan escaping him. His eyes opened briefly—heavy-lidded, hazy with pain and exhaustion. In that fleeting moment, your gaze locked with his. Something passed between you then—something warm, startling, and utterly unexpected. In the hush, as if the world had paused, you felt a golden thread snap taut between your hearts. Your breath caught, shock flaring through your veins. You knew the stories, the descriptions passed in hushed whispers: the feeling of a bond, a mate. And here it was, sparking in a place of blood and moonlight, in the eyes of a wounded warrior who had nearly died under your hands.

Your heart hammered in your chest. Azriel’s eyes drifted shut, too weak to question what he’d seen in your startled expression, and he slipped into a healing sleep. But you stood there, rattled. Him—your mate. How could this be?

Rhysand’s voice broke the silence, cool and concerned. “Y/N? Is he all right?” He must have seen the shock in your eyes, the subtle tremor in your posture.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to regain composure. The weight of that discovery pressed down on you, but you could not falter now. Azriel needed rest, treatment, not confusion. “Yes,” you managed, your voice calmer than you felt. “He’s stabilized. We need to bring him to his room, clean the wounds properly, and apply salves. The stitches and light will hold, but he’ll need careful monitoring.”

Cassian and Rhysand relaxed visibly at your words. Feyre approached, the night breeze stirring her hair. She considered you with quiet sympathy, not fully understanding your reaction but trusting you nonetheless.

“Very well,” Rhysand said, relief tempered by careful pragmatism. “We’ll move him now. Show us what you need.”

You nodded, forcing a small, reassuring smile. Inside, your heart still thundered, grappling with this new reality. Azriel—your mate. There would be time later to make sense of it, to examine the golden thread that had just woven your fates together. For now, you steadied your trembling hands, prepared your supplies, and focused on the healer’s work still ahead.

With Azriel finally settled into his bed, the soft glow of faelight illuminating the room, you stepped back and surveyed your work. Now that he was washed free of grime and old blood, you had been able to apply the final ointments and bandages, each touch carefully measured. He was stable now, breathing steadily. But every time your fingertips brushed his skin—no matter how clinically—it felt wrong, as if you were crossing some invisible boundary. A patient, nothing more, you reminded yourself sternly. Yet the memory of that golden thread you’d sensed earlier lingered, unsettling your calm.

Rhysand and Cassian stood quietly by, the heavy pieces of Azriel’s armor piled in a corner, their expressions grim and distant. Feyre lingered near the doorway, arms folded, her face etched with concern. At last, with Azriel’s wounds tended and his feverish warmth easing under your skilled hands, you turned away from the bed and walked out of the room. The door clicked softly behind you, sealing the sleeping spymaster safely inside.

In the hallway, Rhysand, Feyre, and Cassian were waiting. The tension was nearly palpable, a silent acknowledgment of the danger that had brought Azriel to this dire state. You drew a steadying breath, mind still whirling with the revelation of a mate bond—one you could not, would not, address now. Instead, you focused on the immediate concern: understanding what had happened, what threat had caused such injury.

“So,” you said softly, meeting their eyes in turn. “What actually happened to him?”

The three shared a look—one that you, even as an outsider to their inner circle, could interpret as worry and anger mingled. Rhysand stepped forward, his posture poised, voice low. “Koshiev’s menace grows,” he began, each syllable measured. “We’ve been hearing whispers: new alliances forming, old enemies sharpening their blades. Azriel was gathering intelligence, trying to confirm rumors we’d caught in the shadows.”

Feyre’s gaze lowered, her jaw tightening. “He found what he was looking for, it seems. Reports suggest he managed to spy on someone—one of Koshiev’s allies or agents. But the enemy must have suspected something. They lured him in, set a trap, and ambushed him before he could escape.”

Cassian’s wings rustled restlessly. He crossed his arms over his chest again, scowling. “He was alone,” he growled. “We couldn’t send a whole team without risking alerting them, and now we see the price of that risk.” There was a note of self-reproach in his voice, frustration that they hadn’t prevented Azriel’s misfortune.

Rhysand inclined his head, the blue of his eyes darkening with resolve. “We still don’t know the full extent of their network, but this attack proves they’re bolder than we thought—and dangerously organized. It’s another sign that the threat Koshiev poses is not distant or hypothetical. It’s here, inching closer to our borders, to our people.”

You absorbed this quietly. The room felt colder, as if the open window had let not just fresh air in, but the weight of the coming storm. So that was it: Azriel’s blood on your hands because he’d tried to protect these lands from a greater horror lurking in the shadows. Your jaw tightened; you knew now more than ever that Madja’s warning of a future conflict wasn’t idle.

Feyre cleared her throat, drawing your attention. “Your swift action saved him,” she said softly, gratitude flickering in her eyes. “Without you… I don’t like to think what might have happened.”

Cassian nodded, grim acceptance in his stance. “We owe you a great deal,” he added, quieter than usual.

Rhysand’s face was serene but serious. “You’ve proved yourself beyond measure tonight,” he said. “Though I regret that such a test came at all.”

You inclined your head, acknowledging their thanks without lingering on it. There would be time for gratitude later. For now, what mattered was that Azriel lived, and that you knew—however unexpectedly—the depth of your new responsibilities. A mate, a looming war, a court depending on your skill and leadership. The path forward would not be simple, but you’d chosen to return to the Night Court for this reason: to heal, to help, to protect. Even if your own heart trembled at what fate had just revealed.

“I’ll prepare more medicine and check on him through the night,” you said at last, voice steady. “We’ll keep him stable, and with rest and care, he’ll recover. As for what comes next… we’ll be ready.”

Your words hung in the hush that followed, a quiet vow that all of you, together, would face whatever darkness Koshiev and his allies chose to bring.

Back in the living room, the tension that had filled the air began to dissipate as Azriel’s rescue shifted into a task of careful aftercare. The others lingered quietly while you settled yourself at a low table, spreading out your supplies. You’d taken a pouch from your bag, emptying it of tools, salves, and ground herbs that would form the next ointment for Azriel’s wounds. With measured concentration, you started mixing ingredients, mortar and pestle working in a rhythmic hush.

Feyre moved closer, her presence calm and unobtrusive. She knelt beside you, watching your hands as they skillfully combined powders and oils. Her gaze trailed to your face, and when you met her eyes, there was genuine admiration there. “What you did back there,” she said softly, voice laced with honest wonder. “That was… remarkable. I’ve never seen healing like that before.”

As if summoned by her words, Rhysand approached, standing behind Feyre, arms lightly folded. “I must agree,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “We’ve had healers here for ages, but none who channel the stars, the moon, or the sun into their craft. The way you drew that moonlight… it defied expectation.”

You inhaled slowly, organizing your thoughts before answering. It was natural that they’d be curious—this was your secret, your gift. “I can heal using the power of the celestial bodies,” you explained, keeping your voice low and measured. “The moon, the stars, the sun—they lend me their energy. When I open the spaces around us, letting their light spill in, I can coax that light into wounds, encourage flesh to knit and blood to still.”

You paused, stirring the ointment gently. The mixture took on a faint floral scent, the herbs reacting perfectly to the warm oil. Feyre’s eyes widened slightly at your explanation, her lips parting as she tried to imagine the scope of such power.

“Does it work every time?” Rhysand asked, tilting his head. The question was not accusatory, merely curious. He understood power and its limits as well as anyone.

You offered a small, wry smile. “So long as the sun, moon, and stars exist, I can tap into that energy. But it’s not effortless. It costs me a great deal of strength to channel their light in that way. Healing major injuries like Azriel’s wings or deep lacerations drains me quickly.” You pressed the pestle harder, grinding a stubborn clump of dried leaf into powder. “I must be careful not to overreach. Exhausting myself completely would help no one.”

Feyre nodded slowly, as if turning the idea over in her mind. “It’s a rare gift,” she said, voice full of understanding. “I’m sure Madja knew what she was doing when she asked you to return.”

A hum of agreement escaped you. “She trained me to harness it in more subtle forms, originally. But my travels—my time in other lands—taught me to focus it more precisely, to use it in dire circumstances.” You allowed yourself a brief glance back toward the corridor where Azriel lay resting. “Tonight was certainly dire.”

Rhysand’s expression softened, and he exchanged a meaningful look with Feyre. “We’re grateful you were here,” the High Lord said quietly. “Not just to save Azriel, but to show us what this court’s healers might achieve under your guidance.”

Your chest tightened, a mixture of pride and responsibility blooming there. “We’ll need all the strength we can gather,” you replied. “If Koshiev’s threat is as real as you’ve warned, I can’t afford to hold back.”

Your words lingered, and for a moment, all of you silently acknowledged the uncertain future—a world where any advantage might tip the scales. In the stillness, you returned your attention to the ointment, gently scooping a bit up to examine its consistency. Perfect, you decided, and let your shoulders relax a fraction.

“I’ll come back in a few hours to apply this to Azriel,” you said quietly. “I need to return to the clinic—dawn is approaching, and I must be there when the other healers arrive. He should remain stable for now, but if anything changes, please bring word to me immediately.”

———

When you returned to the clinic, the world seemed to tilt sideways. The door shut behind you with a soft click, muffling the distant hum of Velaris just awakening to dawn. Inside, the quiet halls that had always felt comforting and safe were now suffocating. A hollow ache pulsed in your chest, and before you could even set down your bag, you sank to the floor, knees hitting the hardwood with a dull thud.

Your heart thundered in your ears. He was your mate—Azriel, the spymaster you had saved in a frantic blur of blood and moonlight. The knowledge pressed down on you with unbearable weight. You wanted to cry, to scream, to lash out at the absurd cruelty of fate. You wanted to vomit, as if emptying your stomach might purge the confusion from your veins. You wanted to slap yourself, to break free from this overwhelming tangle of emotions.

How had this happened? You’d returned to the Night Court to take up Madja’s mantle, to heal and guide, not to be shackled by some golden bond you’d never asked for. You’d only wanted to help him, just as you would have helped anyone bleeding out on that table. Yet in that single, unexpected glance, the world had changed—his fate entwining silently, irrevocably with yours.

A sob lodged in your throat. You pressed trembling fingers against your eyes, as if darkness and pressure could hold back the tears. Every thought spun wildly: you were a healer, not some love-struck fool, not someone who had time or space for this destiny you never sought. But a mate. A mate was no small thing, no bond easily ignored.

Your breathing came in ragged gasps. You had just promised Rhysand and Feyre that you would return, that you would apply the ointment to Azriel’s wounds in a few hours. By then, he would be more stable, perhaps even conscious. Would he sense the bond too? Would he look at you differently? Or would he remain blissfully unaware, leaving you alone in this torment?

Your shoulders shook with silent tears. You drew in a shuddering breath, trying to reason with yourself: you were strong, capable, trained to face agony and death. Yet this… this you had not trained for. The golden thread bound you to a future you had never planned.

Minutes passed, or maybe hours—time lost meaning as you knelt on the clinic floor, trapped in your own swirling thoughts. Eventually, your tears slowed, leaving you hollow and raw. Outside, the city stirred. Healers would soon be arriving, expecting you to open the doors, to lead them through another day of caring for the ill and injured.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself upright. You would bury this secret for now, lock it away until you found the words or the courage to face it. Azriel was alive because of you. Your duty was to keep him healthy, to keep everyone healthy. The matter of mateship—of love, destiny, or whatever name this bond took—would have to wait.

Steadying yourself, you rose, wiped the tears from your cheeks, and breathed deeply. No matter the chaos in your mind, the clinic needed you. You would open these doors again, greet the other healers, and carry on. Somehow, you would find a way to reconcile the golden thread strung between your heart and Azriel’s. But not now. Not yet.

For now, you would endure.

----

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[natsgrave]

WHISPERS OF HEARTACHE | angstober

╰┈➤ synopsis: one day whether you are, 14, 28, or 65, you will stumble upon someone who will start a fire in you that cannot die. however, the saddest, most awful truth you will ever come to find is they are not always with whom we spend our lives.

╰┈➤ welcome and short message: main m.list hello, my sweet gravels! i am thrilled to welcome you to "whispers of heartache," a collection of angst-filled one shots centered around the compelling characters of natasha romanoff / scarlett johansson, wanda maximoff / elizabeth olsen, and a female reader. this book is a labor of love, crafted from my deep admiration for these characters and my passion for storytelling. in this book, you will find a series of emotionally charged stories that delve into the complexities of love, loss, and heartache. each one shot will be written in the third person point of view, offering a broad perspective on the intense and often tumultuous emotions experienced by the characters. i must share that english is not my first language. therefore, you may encounter some grammatical errors or awkward phrasing throughout the stories. i appreciate your understanding and patience as i strive to improve my writing skills. my goal is to convey the depth of emotions and the intricate dynamics between the characters, even if my language skills are still a work in progress. angst has a unique power to connect with readers on a deep, emotional level. it explores the raw, often painful aspects of human relationships and personal struggles. through these stories, i hope to capture the essence of what it means to love and to lose, to fight and to surrender. each tale is crafted to evoke empathy and reflection, inviting you to experience the characters' journeys as if they were your own. your reblogs and feedback is incredibly valuable to me. as i embark on this storytelling journey, i welcome your thoughts, suggestions, and constructive criticism. please feel free to leave comments and reviews. your input will not only help me grow as a writer but also ensure that the stories resonate with you, the readers. thank you for joining me in this exploration of the whispers of heartache. i hope that these one shots will touch your heart and leave a lasting impression. happy reading! warm regards, G.J ps: i will be adding the first few angst that i already wrote in this masterlist even though it's technically not part of this masterlist. but, it's angst, so...

╰┈➤ tolerate it

while you were out building other worlds, where was i? you assume i'm fine, but what would you do if i break free and leave us in ruins? ── .✦ pairing: elizabeth olsen x gf!reader

╰┈➤ new year's day

i want your midnights, but I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on new year's day. please, don't ever become a stranger whose laugh i could recognize anywhere. ── .✦ pairing: sister's bsf!elizabeth x fem!reader

╰┈➤ midnight rain

she was sunshine, i was midnight rain. she wanted a bride, i was making my own name, chasing that fame. ── .✦ pairing: actress!elizabeth x fem!reader

╰┈➤ you're losing me

how can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dyin'? do i throw out everything we built or keep it? and you know what they all say, you don't know what you got until it's gone. ── .✦ pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

╰┈➤ in the next lifetime

but in those photos, i saw us instead and, somehow, i know that you and i would've found each other in another life. you still would've turned my head even if we'd met. you're always gonna be mine, we're gonna be timeless. ── .✦ pairing: general's son!steve x general's daughter!reader, maid!natasha x general's daughter!reader, scarlett johansson x fem!reader

╰┈➤ the manuscript

the only thing that's left is the manuscript. one last souvenir from my trip to your shores. now and then i reread the manuscript but the story isn't mine anymore. ── .✦ pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

╰┈➤ the smallest woman who ever lived

and i don't miss what we had, but could someone give a message to the smallest man who ever lived? ── .✦ pairing: avenger!natasha x ex hydra!reader

╰┈➤ favorite crime

i hope i was your favorite crime, 'cause baby, you were mine. ── .✦ pairing: bsf!wanda x fem!reader

╰┈➤ mean it

on your lips just leave it, if you don't mean it. ── .✦ pairing: scarlett johansson x gf!reader

╰┈➤ love me nicely

i know you love me, but could you love me nicely? ── .✦ pairing: toxic!elizabeth x gf!reader

╰┈➤ if the world was ending

i know, you know, we know, you weren't down for forever and it's fine. i know, you know, we know, we weren't meant for each other and it's fine. but if the world was ending you'd come over, right? ── .✦ pairing: avenger!wanda x fem!reader

╰┈➤ soulmate

what a shame, didn't want to be the one that got away. taking down the pictures and the plans we made. big mistake, you broke the sweetest promise that you never should have made. ── .✦ pairing: fiance!elizabeth x fem!reader

╰┈➤ greatest what if

someday when you leave me, i bet these memories follow you around. ── .✦ pairing: actress!elizabeth x fem!reader

╰┈➤ heart

i knew it from the first old fashioned, we were cursed. should've known i'd be the first to leave think about the place where you first met me. ── .✦ pairing: elizabeth olsen x crush!reader

╰┈➤ too late

words— how little they mean when you're a little too late. ── .✦ pairing: avenger!natasha x avenger!steve, husband!bucky x avenger!reader

╰┈➤ i miss you

now, i fear i have fallen from grace and i feel like my castle's crumbling down. ── .✦ pairing: actress!scarlett x actress!reader

╰┈➤ wedding

sometimes giving up is the strong thing, sometimes to run is the brave thing, sometimes walking out is the one thing, that will find you the right thing. the snaps from the same little breaks in your soul, you know when it's time to go. ── .✦ pairing: elizabeth olsen x event planner!reader

╰┈➤ last memory

if i didn't know better, i'd think you were talking to me now. if i didn't know better, i'd think you were still around. what died didn't stay dead, you're alive, so alive, in my head. ── .✦ pairing: agent!elizabeth x agent!reader

╰┈➤ thank you

why'd you have to lead me on? why'd you have to twist the knife? walk away and leave me bleedin'. ── .✦ pairing: scarlett johansson x fem!reader

╰┈➤ we both had our chance

i persist and resist the temptation to ask you if one thing had been different, would everything be different today? ── .✦ pairing: avenger!natasha x avenger!reader

╰┈➤ i hate you

remembering her comes in flashbacks and echoes, tell myself it's time now gotta let go. but moving on from her is impossible, when i still see it all in my head, in burning red. ── .✦ pairing: shitty!scarlett x annoying!reader

╰┈➤ on bended knee

can we go back to the days our love was strong? can you tell me how a perfect love goes wrong? can somebody tell me how to get things back the way they use to be? oh god give me a reason, i'm down on bended knee. ── .✦ pairing: actress!elizabeth x actress!reader

╰┈➤ the cut that always bleeds

oh, i could be anything you need, as long as you don't leave. the cut that always bleeds. ── .✦ pairing: scarlett x gf!reader

╰┈➤ backburner

i'll always be in your corner, 'cause i don't feel alive 'til i'm burnin' on your backburner. ── .✦ pairing: agent!natasha x agent!reader

╰┈➤ the great war

we can plant a memory garden, say a solemn prayer, place a poppy in my hair. there's no morning glory, it was war, it wasn't fair and we will never go back. ── .✦ pairing: actress!elizabeth x gf!reader

╰┈➤ enough for you

and maybe i'm just not as interesting as the girls you had before but god, you couldn't have cared less about someone who loved you more. 'cause all i ever wanted was to be enough for you and all i ever wanted was to be enough for you. ── .✦ pairing: agent!natasha x insecure!reader

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ to be written:

╰┈➤ 1 step forward, 3 steps back

do you love me, want me, hate me? boy, i don't understand. no, i don't understand.

╰┈➤ better woman

i know the bravest thing i ever did was run.

╰┈➤ strange

isn't it strange how people can change. from strangers to friends, friends into lovers, and strangers again?

╰┈➤ lose you to love me

we'd always go into it blindly, i needed to lose you to find me. this dancing was killing me softly, i needed to hate you to love me.

╰┈➤ almost is never enough

almost is never enough, so close to being in love. if i would have known that you wanted me, the way i wanted you then maybe we wouldn't be two worlds apart, but right here in each other's arms.

╰┈➤ wish you were sober

kiss me in the seat of your rover, real sweet, but i wish you were sober.

╰┈➤ same ground

because i have learned that love is beyond what human can imagine, the more it clears, the more i have to let you go.

╰┈➤ the way i loved you

but i miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain and it's 2 a.m. and i'm cursing your name. so in love that you act insane and that's the way i loved you.

╰┈➤ champagne problems

your mom's ring in your pocket, her picture in your wallet, you won't remember all my champagne problems.

╰┈➤ last kiss

you told me you loved me, so why did you go away?

╰┈➤ maroon

the burgundy on my t-shirt when you splashed your wine into me and how the blood rushed into my cheeks, so scarlet, it was. the mark you saw on my collarbone, the rust that grew between telephones, the lips i used to call home, so scarlet, it was maroon.

╰┈➤ loml

you said i'm the love of your life about a million times.

╰┈➤ consequences

loving you was sunshine, safe and sound, a steady place to let down my defenses but loving you had consequences.

╰┈➤ casual

i thought you thought of me better, someone you couldn't lose.

╰┈➤ illicit affairs

they show their truth one single time but they lie, and they lie, and they lie a million little times.

╰┈➤ forever and always

oh back up, baby, back up, did you forget everything? back up, baby, back up, did you forget everything?

[call-sign-shark]

A Slice Of Us || Modern!Peaky Blinders

Notes: Something for my lovely @raincoffeeandfandoms' 3k and her food theme. This blurb has also a tiny reference to @shelbydelrey’s vampire roommate idea. Also, it has been a while since I wanted to introduce Modern!Heaven so it was the perfect occasion. Congratulations again Flor 🖤

Words: 560.

Arthur knew her.

He did not know from where nor when, but the moment their eyes met, crystal iris drowning in his steel-blue ones, he had been convinced of it. When he opened the door at midnight and found himself face to face with the most otherworldly beautiful young woman he had ever seen Arthur’s words choked in his throat. Slightly embarrassed by how late it was, the angel handed him the renting advertisement she had printed and offered him a beaming smile that showcased four pearly white and sharp fangs. Such an odd complexion was soon to be forgotten for the gangster found himself enthralled by the way her plump and glossy lips reflected the corridor’s light as if her flesh had been engraved with diamond dust.

That was how he, a troubled veteran and an assassin, became roommates with her, an aerial performer who spent years in a mental hospital for unknown reasons. It didn’t take long for Arthur to fall in love. And to fall hard. Since she had entered his life, there were things that instantly soothed his urge to take drugs or his overwhelming violence. Like watching her stretch in the living room, her face rosy and pouting because of the pinching sensation in her hamstrings. When she let out small whimpers and long sighs, he would just obliterate everything else. Often she even asked him for help: “Arthur, can you please push my foot so that it touches my head?” "Can you keep my legs open for my splits?" Or “Can you seize my hips while I invert for my Aisha trick?” And he obeyed, craving some skin-to-skin contact with her. He had lost count of how many times they ended up laughing because she had slipped from the pole and they fell together on the living room’s wooden floor. For sure, she brought joy into his life. Peace into his mind. And soon, warmth into his bed. Her presence beside him was not only required, but it was also a necessary need for him to function properly.

Their life together was filled with little rituals and demonstrations of affection such as taking baths and showers together or establishing movie nights — even if, most of the time, they stopped paying attention to it at some point to sink into each other.

But her favorite one was when she exhausted herself at the pole studio late at night and he brought pizza from her favorite local restaurant. Arthur sat on the floor and watched his angel gracefully spinning on the pole, dressed in revealing exotic dancing gear and Pleaser platform boots. And when her training was over, she sat with him, snuggled in his loving arms, and shared the pizza together.

“Arthur. Do you want the last slice?” She asked, her French accent melting on her tongue. The way she pronounced his name made his legs weak — and it changed so much from the English way that he sometimes didn’t realize she called him.

“Ye can take it angel,” He grinned, his gravel voice cooing. Pressing a kiss on her temple, his mouth trailed down her porcelain skin until it reached her ear, “But I crave s’mthing sweet so I’ll take a slice of you for dessert, hm.”

She laughed and each time she did, he found gold in her voice and heaven in her eyes.

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

[end-otw-racism]

2023 OTW Board Election Review

The election is over, and we'd like to congratulate (in alphabetical order) Anh Pham, Kathryn Soderholm, and Qiao Chu, who have been elected to serve full terms on the OTW Board of Directors, and Jennifer Haynes and Zixin Zhang, who have been elected to partial terms. We recognize that this is a turbulent time for the OTW, and that running for Board at any time takes guts and a lot of hard work, but especially so now, and we appreciate the time and labor you all have put into answering questions about how you envision your time serving on the Board and guiding OTW policy.

It really was a rollercoaster of an election season. With an original ballot of seven candidates for three seats, the field eventually narrowed to five candidates, and then unexpected resignations led to the opening of five total seats, creating an uncontested election. Still, voting mattered, as the number of votes each candidate got determined if they won a full term (three years) or a partial (two years), and we want to thank everyone who showed up to #VoteToEndOTWRacism.

Through their prepared bios and platforms, the Q&As posted to the Elections site, and the four Candidate Chats, OTW members and stakeholders had ample opportunity to get to know the candidates and learn about their ideas for improving the OTW, and we're excited to see how they might implement their plans once they take their seats.

Today we're going to take a look at how their stated priorities might guide the new Board, specifically in addressing our three main demands: 

Terms of Service (TOS) updates that address racist and bigoted harassment.

Hiring a Diversity Consultant within the next 3 months.

Committing to a policy of transparency on this topic.

As candidates, all five stressed the importance of updating the TOS (or the way the current TOS is enforced) to better protect fans from harassment on AO3, with Anh, Kathryn, and Qiao all listing it as a priority. 

All five also spoke of hiring and working with a Diversity, Equity and Inclusion (DEI) consultant, with Anh, Kathryn, and Qiao all speaking of filling the position soon, and Kathryn expressly calling it a priority.

And, continuing the positive trend, all five offered multiple ways the OTW could improve transparency within the organization and with stakeholders outside the organization! We are particularly interested in Zixin’s suggestion to increase the section on Board work in the monthly newsletters (something Qiao also mentioned!) as well as improve the Board Meeting process to have it better moderated and more efficient, as this would be a great step towards that transparency and engagement with the user base, and her idea to set up clearer internal guidelines on crisis resolution and make them accessible to all volunteers would be a tangible way of increasing transparency within the org.

Kathryn is also concerned about documentation and believes the OTW needs to establish: clear org-wide standards for when to use Constructive Corrective Action Procedures (CCAP), an org-wide crisis communication plan, and org-wide standards for moderating comments on news posts, and that these standards can, and should, be created within the first year.

And, finally, Anh discusses having the group tasked with implementation of the OTW's strategic plan develop infographics to better communicate that plan as a means of fostering outreach to OTW members and users to bring them in to contribute to the OTW’s processes. Unfortunately the strategic plan does not currently reference any of our goals, but if updated, this could be a great path of dialogue between users and the organization.  

The new Board will be seated October 1, 2023, and we look forward to seeing what they can accomplish by working together to make the OTW and its platforms a safe and welcoming place for fans of color.

[tbb-appreciation-week]

The Bad Batch Appreciation Week 2024 is HERE!!!

The time for appreciating Clone Force 99 has arrived! Y'know, like the cavalry 😅 Don't mind my bad pun!

What I was saying? Oh, yeah! The prompts have been revealed HERE, so we must refresh the rules. They're the same as last year, but it doesn't hurt to review them again, right? So:

Event Info & Rules

TBB APPRECIATION WEEK is a week-long, prompt-based creation challenge to celebrate our love for the Batchers and the show. There are 7 groups of prompts—one for each day of the week—, which can be used, skipped, or combined in any way you’d like. They are meant to be an inspiration without being taken literally (i.e., you don’t have to include the exact wording of prompts in your work). Feel free to interpret them at your convenience. For example, if the prompt is “anooba”, you can create either something about the animal, use it as a name/mascot of a sports team in your modern-day AU, or as an analogy for someone with a voracious appetite. It’s up to you.

Each group contains a Theme (which is in and on itself a prompt), an AU/Trope, Dialogue, an extra character, NSFW, and a color palette). You can use them in combination or just pick one. The idea is to give everyone as much creative freedom as possible. The participants can create works in any media they choose, including but not limited to: writing, art, edits, gifs, videos, playlists, cosplays, etc. The only restriction is that it needs to be focused on The Bad Batch (can be on a particular Batcher alone).

Also, people can participate as little or as much as they want, meaning that they don’t have to do ALL the days if they can't/don’t want to.

Collaborations are welcome and even encouraged. For example, if an artist and a writer want to work together, or a writer and a podficcer, or two writers, go for it!

When uploading TBB Appreciation Week content to your Tumblr blog, be sure to mention this blog and add the following hashtags:

#tbbaw2024

#the theme of the day and/or #prompt(s) used

#medium (gifset, fic, podcast, fanart, etc.)

#trigger warnings, if applies. (Please do NOT to add “tw” in front or at the end but only use the word/trigger itself, because the way Tumblr tag blocker feature works, it makes it harder for people to block the right tag.) (List of trigger warnings)

#nsfw (only for NSFW content)

#any other relevant tags go here

PLEASE BE DILIGENT WITH YOUR TAGGING (both by mentioning the blog and putting the necessary tags). That'll ensure that your post will be reblogged on this blog.

I'll do my best to reblogged everyone's posts, but if it passes 2–3 days and I haven't posted yours, please let me know.

If you are posting NSFW fics or art on Tumblr, I ask that you use the Keep Reading break to hide the NSFW portion of your work; and please, give the proper warnings. On Ao3, please, use the correct rating and warnings as well.

If you want, you can also add your work to the Ao3 Collection (closed at the moment, but I'll open it in due time). (Use the tags TBB Appreciation Week 2024 and/or TBBAW 2024 when posting.)

There won't be censorship in this event, so everyone is free to create whatever they want. Participants are expected to hold judgment to themselves of others and their works, even if they don't agree with or find it repulsive. That means that harassment of anyone or anything that they post (even if said work is something you personally find morally reprehensible) WILL NOT BE TOLERATED. Anyone that breaks this rule will be banned from the event. Curate your own experience by blocking what upsets/squicks/triggers you, and leave everyone else alone. That's the importance of the correct tagging, as it says above.

Important!! Show support to other participants by liking, reblogging, AND commenting. If an author or artist has asked for constructive criticism (not the same as a comment, and with constructive being the keyword) you may give it. However, refrain to give any of the unsolicited kind, as it can be discouraging for the author or artist.

But most of all, HAVE FUN!!! This is meant to be a lay-back event to show love for our favorite characters.

I'm looking forward to seeing what you all come up with!

If you have questions, you can check out the F.A.Q post. But if you don't find there the answer you're looking for, send me a message to the ask box or a DM, either in this blog or my fandom blog @nimata-beroya.

Thanks for reading, and happy creating!

Mare 💜

[mmkin]

Home from the Sea/Get You Some Arlong - final chapter

Sniffle, sniffle. My very first Arlong story is now complete. I feel a little sad but also proud. This was my first ever Canon x Reader story and I'm really pleased with how it turned out, it was a lot of fun to write and was also a unique challenge for me to write a Y/n. It also got me deeper into the One Piece rabbit hole, lol.

Link to AO3 here, also under the beautiful Arlong pictures here.

All feedback/reviews/comments are very much welcome and appreciated!

Content warning - some smut, mention of violence, but nothing readers of this tale have not already seen.

XI

o0o0o0o

Arlong has sunk a fair amount of ships over the years. Marine, pirate, or otherwise. To support the ever-growing Arlong Village, he’s sent fishmen into the depths to salvage what they can of said ships. On occasion, a treasure or some other stash is found. And when the Arlong Pirates capture ships nowadays, he’s more inclined to keep them than just sink them. After all, he no longer leads just a crew, but an entire tribe of seafolk, and he takes his responsibility to care for them seriously.

It also gives the humans forced to pay Arlong tribute an easier way to come up with that money. They can come to Arlong Village and sell their wares, instead of having to venture outside of Arlong’s territory. It used to be that keeping an influx of money coming to the Arlong Empire, Arlong had to let the humans travel overseas to sell their wares. Wily bastard he was, he only gave out these permits to humans who had loved ones who remained on the islands. The message was clear. Fuck up, or contact the Marines, and bad things will happen to your loved ones.

Brutal, but effective. But hey now there’s Arlong Village, so the nearby islands don’t have to travel as far to make the money needed for their tributes, and you’ve also convinced Arlong to allow the towns to pay some of the tribute in crops, to make it easier for Arlong to feed his growing tribe.

You and Arlong are out for a casual stroll in the village, looking over the most recent construction projects. It’s a beautiful and sunny day, and the birds are singing. The waves are crashing against the shore and piers, and there is a mild breeze. Your mate is at your side, and you feel secure in his presence.

“I don’t know why I didn’t do this sooner,” Arlong grumbles as he looks around at the fishmen strolling about happily.

“All things in good time,” you quip as you hook your arm around his. A few people greet or chat with Arlong and you remain near him while you look around, enjoying the sights and sounds. There’s a small but bustling market, and several fishmen relax in lawn furniture. A couple is coming up the streets, and you see the husband has a baby slung to his chest in a wrap, a strong arm curved under the baby for extra support. The infant babbles softly, grabbing his father’s collar with a pudgy webbed hand.

The couple greet Arlong and he chats with them for a couple of moments. They came here half a year ago from the Fishman District and have made no secret of how better they consider this place than the dumping ground of Fishman Island. The wife had been heavily pregnant back then, and knew she didn’t want to raise her child in the District.

You all move along, and when you look up, you see a wistful look on his face. It’s not too hard to figure out what he’s been thinking about after seeing that baby with its father.

o0o0o0o

You’ve only known Arlong for two years. From what you’ve heard, he had plenty of anger and hate in his youth (and yes, he still holds onto a fair amount of it) but it seems like he’s mellowed out a bit. Many of his tactics remain the same, but he’s changed or honed others with your advice. The Arlong Empire is relatively small compared to the entire world, but it is now a solid presence in the East Blue. With some humans seeing that there is a chance to get promoted in the Arlong Empire, this increases the support in Arlong’s favor, even if by only a few points.

Twenty years ago, Arlong would have scoffed at this notion, but as he’s come to learn over the years, not all humans deserve to be crushed underfoot. He’s still pretty hateful, but he’s learned how to better channel that hate into something productive rather than self-destructive to himself and his goals.

o0o0o0o

Although things are mostly peaceful within the Arlong Empire, there are times when Arlong resorts to violence. There’s only so much you can do to rein him in after all, and when it comes to would-be slavers trying to kidnap fishmen, or Marines coming to challenge Arlong, all you can do is stand back and let him and his warriors do what they will. And you have to admit, it’s sexy to see your mate in action, defending his nakama and tribe.

o0o0o0o

“You looked absolutely sexy out there, swinging your Kiribachi,” you say with a purr as the two of you savor the crew’s latest victory. The crew is at Arlong Park, having a party, but you and Arlong have decided to sneak off to be by yourselves.

He basks in the glow of your praise as you cup his angular face in your hands. And he really does look sexy when his strength is on full display. Shark on Darts, or throwing water at humans, or swinging his sword, eyes wild with warrior’s spirit as he takes down the people who would enslave his people or try to take territory away from him.

“Thinking about it gets me all hot and bothered,” you growl into his ear as the two of you grope one another.

“I can tell,” he replies with a chuckle as his hand moves between your legs.

“What are you going to do about it then, big boy?” you tease, seeing the glint in his eyes.

“What the hell do you think I’m going to do, Y/n?” he replies with a throaty growl, his fingers curling up against you. You shudder and arch against him. Oh yes, you know the answer only too well… There are different ways you can phrase it, but they all have the same end result.

You moan his name as he sinks into your hot, receptive tightness.

“Mine, all mine,” he growls softly, swaying his hips against you. His large, webbed hands lift your legs up, pushing them back so he can press into you more firmly, grinding against you and causing you to whimper in agreement at his words.

“I need you, Arlong,” you moan when there’s a pause in the frenzied rhythm and you’re able to speak coherently. “Need you so fucking bad. My sharkman.”

“You have me, all of me, and I’m going to pound every inch into you until you can’t walk.” And yes, that’s exactly what he’s doing and will continue to do.

“Hey… don’t threaten – ah! – me with a – hngh! – good time!”

He gives you a mock threatening growl, snapping his teeth at you as he continues to pound into you. You snap your teeth back at him, and he grins.

“Yes, take it all, Y/n.”

“All… and more…” you manage to gasp before he gives out a short, sudden growl, his fingers digging into the back of your thighs as he releases his pent-up load into you. He growls softly against your ear, breathing against it before nibbling along the side of your face.

“Mine, all mine,” he growls as he continues to kiss and nuzzle you, mindful of his nose.

“Always?” you ask with a pleased purr, clenching around him as he remains inside of you, running your fingers along his back and fin.

“Always and forever.” He presses his lips along your shoulders, his hands sliding from your legs to your hips as he holds you. “Sweet Y/n, do you think I would ever let you go?” he asks half-teasingly.

“I certainly hope not,” you shoot back as you nibble along his jaw and ear. “You’re stuck with me.” Your tentacles wrap around his middle, and he gives out a playful growl.

It doesn’t take much to renew his ardor when he’s in this sort of mood, and he’s pounding into you again.

“Keep going like that,” you moan as you arch against him. “Fill up my womb.”

His purring growl fills your ears as he does exactly what you ask.

o0o0o0o

You are in the pool, a floating noodle under your knees and another one under your shoulders. The park is closed so only the highest-ranking members of Arlong’s crew can roam around at these hours, so besides you, there’s just Chew and Hatchan, taking the opportunity to relax as well by lounging in the poolside chairs and sipping the drinks they’ve mixed for themselves.

None for you though… at least not for the time being. You rest your hand on your gravid belly, feeling a kick as Arlong’s child asserts its presence. The pregnancy wasn’t too bad at first, but as your belly grows bigger, so does the inconvenience. You’re looking forward to motherhood, but you wish that the journey was at least a little easier. Nowadays, you’re more comfortable in the water, where your belly doesn’t feel so heavy.

A fin slices through the water, and Arlong appears at your shoulder before swimming around you.

“Do you know how sexy you look, floating around in your swimsuit?” he asks with a soft purr. You let out a small scoff of disbelief, and he smirks at you before reaching out and resting his large hand on your stomach.

“I know you’re ready for this to be over. But I’ll admit you look cute like this. After all, it’s my child you’re carrying,” he says with pride in his tone. “And we had fun making it, didn’t we?”

You can not help but roll your eyes a little at that. But you know he’s right. And he is also providing a safe place for you and your baby, surrounded by your nakama and friends.

“We have fun regardless of what the end result is,” you tease him back.

“Mmm,” he agrees, pressing kisses along your shoulder as he remains at your side, floating with you contentedly.

o0o0o0o

This story has run its natural course. In the future, I might be inspired to add another chapter or two here, but right now, I am satisfied with what I have done with this story and want to end it on a high/sweet note.

This started out last year as a collection of smutty headcanons for the sharkman when I started simping for him after watching OPLA. But as the story and Arlong’s relationship with Y/n developed (and I started watching the anime and the Sabaody and Fishman Island arcs) it became much more than just headcanons (although the headcanons were incredibly fun to write!) and I wanted to see what could happen if I wrote about an Arlong that never lost his park and actually managed to have some wisdom and character growth despite being an asshole because let’s be real, you can’t have Arlong without at least a bit of assholery, lol.

But don’t worry, this is not the end of my Arlong fangirling. I have started a new story, the Siren’s Shark, which is about Arlong after he loses Arlong Park. Squid has taken on such a life and personality of her own that I no longer call her Y/n in my head, so I have christened her with the name Yolande. If you’re into the whole Marvel and DC multiveral mayhem that seems to be the cool thing nowadays, you can consider the new story a multiversal alternate reality version of Arlong and his squid. It will be less sweet and fluffy than this story, but will have the usual quality fishman love you can expect of me :)

All feedback/reviews/comments are very much welcome and appreciated!

[woozapooza]

People who get affronted or disdainful about ao3's norm that constructive criticism is opt-in only are soooo annoying. It's fine if you don't like that norm, but dismissing it as juvenile or whatever speaks to such a rigid view of the "right" way to do creativity, IMO. I saw a post about this topic recently either on here on reddit, I can't remember which but it doesn't matter, where someone commented, basically, "putting your writing on the internet and expecting it to be exempt from criticism is like selling a product and expecting it to be exempt from bad reviews." But like...the reason that simile doesn't work is right there in the simile itself: fanfiction isn't a product! (Not in the sense in which the commenter was using the word, at least.) A product is something that someone sells for money. Fanfiction is something that someone writes for fun and shares for free. If you really want to criticize something publicly, just read a published book and write a review! (Or go to the Constructive Criticism Welcome tag on ao3!)

Personally, I love that criticism is opt-in on ao3. I have no need for criticism! I have no illusions that my silly little stories about my silly little blorbos are great art! But I am proud of them and I just want to share them with other people who like the same fake little guys that I like. The idea that any creative work should immediately become fair game for criticism the second you put it on the internet is just...exhausting. It's so exhausting.

[mariacallous]

As asylum centers are boarding up ahead of another predicted day of violent protests across the UK on Wednesday, X owner Elon Musk has stoked tensions by labeling UK prime minister Keir Starmer “#TwoTierKier” and spreading a far-right conspiracy theory that claims white rioters are being dealt with more severely than minorities by police.

For days now, Musk has sought to use his huge influence to suggest that diversity was causing the riots: “If incompatible cultures are brought together without assimilation, conflict is inevitable,” Musk wrote. Responding to a video of riots in Liverpool on Monday, Musk warned: “Civil war is inevitable.”

Six thousand police officers are on standby in response to far-right figures sharing a list of dozens of targets, including locations of asylum centers and offices of lawyers who help asylum seekers. Officials are facing resistance from X to take down posts that are deemed a threat to national security, according to a report by the Financial Times.

After the death of three children in Southport during a mass stabbing attack last week, which sparked the riots, conspiracies flooded social media platforms, including X. But it was on Telegram where much of the initial organization for the attacks took place.

Far-right channels not only posted information on locations and times for protests, but shared information on how to construct Molotov cocktails and set fire to buildings, according to a WIRED review of multiple Telegram channels.

But, while Musk and X have done little to quell their activity, Telegram appears to have taken action against at least one channel which has been set up to spread hatred and disinformation around the Southport stabbings.

The “Southport Wake Up” Telegram channel was set up within hours of the stabbing incident last week and soon amassed a huge following. It shared details about local protests but quickly descended into making violent threats against named individuals and locations.

On Monday night, Telegram appeared to remove the channel, which at that point had almost 15,000 members. It is unclear if Telegram made this decision itself or if it was at the direction of the authorities in the UK.

The creator of the channel, who has been flagged to police by researchers but has not been publicly named, has attempted to set up new channels several times, but they have all been shut down within hours of being established.

Telegram told WIRED that its moderators were “actively monitoring the situation and are removing channels and posts containing calls to violence.”

A spokesperson told WIRED the Home Office could not comment on whether they had called for the Stockport Wakeup telegram channel to be blocked, as “it’s an operational issue.”

Many far-right figures had migrated to Telegram in recent years after being kicked off all other platforms, because of Telegram’s notoriously lax approach to censorship. But since Musk’s takeover of Twitter in November 2022, many of those previously exiled extremists have been welcomed back, including Stephen Yaxley-Lennon, the leader of the now-defunct English Defense League, who goes by the name of Tommy Robinson.

Robinson has repeatedly thanked Musk since being reinstated in November last year, calling Musk “the best thing to happen for free speech this century.” In recent days he has tagged Musk in multiple posts on the platform. Musk responded to one of Robinson’s posts over the weekend.

Analysis from disinformation researcher Marc Owen Jones has shown that any engagement like this from Musk dramatically boosts the number of views, likes, and shares a post on X receives—even posts whose interactions had been declining dramatically.

“Twitter has been a disinformation delivery system,” says Jones, which has allowed the “proliferation of anti-migrant and anti-muslim speculation.” He cites the trust and safety team cuts, the blue tick pay for play strategy and the reintroduction of far right people onto the site as “perfect conditions for disinformation and hate speech to thrive.”

“[Musk’s] comments are totally unacceptable,” courts minister Heidi Alexander told the BBC on Tuesday. “For someone that has a big platform, a large following, to be exercising that power in such an irresponsible way, is pretty unconscionable.” X did not respond to a request for comment.

UK law enforcement is taking action against those using X to overtly promote violence—in one case by arresting the wife of a local councillor in Northampton who called for hotels housing asylum seekers to be set on fire.

“Mass deportation now, set fire to all the fucking hotels full of the bastards for all I care … If that makes me racist, so be it,” Lucy Connolly wrote on X. Northamptonshire police told the BBC the 41-year-old child care worker was arrested on suspicion of inciting racial hatred.

Rioters and violent protesters have also taken over TikTok Live, sharing self-incriminating videos of them confronting the police or members of the public in cities like Leeds, Stoke, and Hull. Police have used that footage to prosecute a first wave of demonstrators this week.

“Over 400 people now have been arrested, 100 have been charged, some in relation to online activity, and a number of them are already in court, and I am now expecting substantive sentencing before the end of this week,” Starmer said in a video posted on X on Tuesday. “That should send a very powerful message to people either directly or online.”

Starmer has not referred to X or Musk by name in his comments on the issue of online radicalization around the riots.

[smileyfacemojisworld]

Ever After Middle School

Aka EAM(Past AU)

Credits for the ff idea to @stealeroflemons, tysssm4ur motivation❤️

Apple White’s POV:

I flipped my silky, blonde hair and strutted out of my million-dollar limousine, taking a sip of my caramel apple Hocus Pocus latte with nutmeg. I grinned my perfectly-practiced smile at the enchanted, staring strangers and went up to my Best Friend Forever After, Briar Beauty, who just came back from some early shopping.

“Happily Ever After High Briar! What a coincidence that we arrived at the same time, a perfect start to a perfect new year! I’m so fairy hexcited for Middle School, aren’t you?”

Briar removed her sunglasses and placed them on her head, “Well, I’m more hexcited about the Welcome Party! I’m so going to sign up in the Party Planning Committee, I’ll probably ask Melody Piper to do it together with me.”

I was about to respond when a loud voice interrupted me from afar, “This is Blondielocks coming to you Live from the one and only, Ever After Middle School! The day hasn’t even begun yet, and drama is already happening! Stay tuned to find out more, in my mirror cast blog!”

Briar grabbed my hand and dragged me to the voice, where we found our friend, Blondie, who was standing outside of a sort of mysterious “green portal”, hastily backing away from it as 4 people tumbled out of it.

There was a middle-aged man, who had bushy eyebrows, blue eyes, bunny-rabbit teeth, “brown-tea-coloured” frizzy hair, a layered, ruffled, colourfully patterned outfit with a hat larger than his head!

The other three were about my age, there was a girl who had “turquoise and purple-coloured” hair with a tiny “teacup-shaped hat” that had a mouse poking out of it and a extravagant layered skirt.

Another girl had wavy, lavender-coloured hair that was tied up into two cute ponytails, mischievous cat-eyes, nails so sharp they look like claws and teeth as perfect as Daring’s.

The last one caught my eyes the most. She had a red heart painted on her right eye, hair as dark as ebony with blood-red highlights, the most fashionable outfit Ever After and a gold crown headpiece with ruby-red stones bejewelled upon it.

I stared at them in awe but stopped myself. “How rude of me”, I chided myself scornfully.

As Blondie kept on trying to get an interview from the girl with the pet mouse, her persistence led to nothing, as all she spoke was gibberish.

“It’s like she’s speaking in another language we can’t understand!”, Blondie exclaims, fascinated.

As I spotted another one of my good friends, Ashlynn Ella, I pulled her to my side, asking her what happened, as she was here before me. However, the new Headmistress came along and tried to take matters into her own hands.

~Chapter 1 Ends~

AAAAAAAAAA OMGGG I FINALLY DID IT

Plsss comment and leave reviews (constructive criticism)

Hmmm I wonder who THEY were hmmm

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

Thinking about the site culture difference between AO3 and FF.net (as someone who has been deep in both)

A lot of people complain that writers on AO3 don't want constructive criticism in fic comments, but a lot of the culture on ff.net was "R&R" aka Read & Review - review meaning 'please read this and leave feedback on how I can improve'.

And I think that's because the bulk of users on ff.net were teenagers who were just getting into creative writing for the first time. Which is why paragraph spacing, spelling, grammar, awkward breaks for author's notes, etc. used to be very common practice on there. If you told someone in their comments that they should add more of certain elements to their fic and that would make it better, that was welcomed, because writers were young and uncertain.

But most writers on AO3 are in their 20s, 30s, 40s, etc. and they have well established their style, their niche in the fanfiction community, the type of fics they like to write, the tone of their stories - and they are posting fully finished, very well thought out works. Works of art. So posting unsolicited criticism in the comments feels like infringing on someone's identity (and how they have established their identity as an artist).

A lot of people don't post fics on AO3 looking for reviews and potential criticisms for improvement (which is a huge part of what ff.net was) - they post to share with other people who might enjoy the niche that their work fills.

[ahiddenpath]

Fic writers say reviews are important, but what do I do if I don't know what to say?

This is a valid question! Apologies for sitting on it for a few days. I am concerned about coming across as guilting people or making something sound easier than it is, but I do think it's a great q. So...

Disclaimer: My desire to guilt readers who don't review is exactly 0%. My desire to earnestly answer this q in good faith is 100%. I can only give my subjective personal opinion. And I will do so beneath the cut!

Reasons why readers might not review:

Readers are not necessarily writers

Meaningful analysis of a narrative (character analysis, discussion of theme, discussion of narrative structure, etc) is difficult. And like... Even if a reader has those skills, they might be reading the fic for entertainment, and not want to utilize that skill/do that work.

Solution

Short, simple, encouraging reviews. Something like, "Great job, I love this!" or "What an interesting story, excited for more!" or "I've been looking forward to this, thanks for sharing." As a reader, you don't need to approach reviewing as a critic or an analysis. Just offer simple encouragement. This reassures the writer that their work is being read and enjoyed, which enforces that sharing their work is worthwhile.

Readers are afraid that their reviews will be misconstrued or interpreted in bad faith by the author.

Existing online is becoming more harrowing and confusing by the day. There have always been trolls, which I define here as people looking for a fight with no real interest in the reason for the fight. But these days, it's even worse than that.

We've probably all encountered folks online who police the phrasing and supposed intentions of another person's posted content, whether it be a fic, an analysis, or a comment. As you read above, I made a disclaimer to say that I am trying to present a good faith presentation here that respects everyone. The fact that I felt the need to say that really speaks to the status of online discourse right now.

We all encounter things online that we find offensive/objectionable/triggering/not to our tastes. The healthy response to that is to add those tags to our block list so those posts won't show up on our feeds, or to block the user if they don't tag in a predictable and consistent way. As "in real life," we can only control our own behavior. Attempting to argue with the poster will either make you look like an ass if it turns out that their intentions were good, or start an argument with someone who actually IS being a jerk, or at least who has heightened emotions and is volatile right now.

It's just a poor use of our limited time on earth.

Solution

As fic reviewer, the way to avoid unintended offense is to stick to simple, positive reviews when reviewing an author you have not interacted with before. As you get to know them, you can begin branching out if you'd like.

We live in late stage capitalist hellscapes, fascism is rampant, and I am a little bean who is so so tired.

God, do I feel you on this one. I am also a little bean who is so so tired. I won't use the solution tag here because like. Hahahhaahaha. A solution??? To this???? Related to fanfic?

But I suppose, as a fandom writer, I'd gently remind readers that the folks who make fandom related art in all formats are also tired little beans. Without encouragement, we might stop sharing our stuff, not out of spite, but out of sheer exhaustion.

I'm going to pivot topics from why readers might hesitate to review to what I think fandom writers are looking for from reviews- and what we are not looking for. I can only speak for myself, so please take this as my subjective opinion.

My thoughts on constructive criticism from readers

If the writer specifies in an author note or summary that they welcome constructive criticism, go for it! If not, simply ask the author in a review before proceeding. Meaningful constructive criticism is a skill, and it takes a lot of time and thought, so don't put yourself out if the author is not interested.

A lot of fic writers are here to play; AO3 and FFN are not creative writing workshops. A lot of us are interested in growing, though, so please feel free to ask!

What is and is not constructive criticism?

I don't want this to become an essay, and I am wary of treading into the "assuming bad intentions" zone, so I will be brief. Constructive criticism explores literary concepts like characterization, theme, narrative structure, etc. Constructive criticism is not telling the author your personal preferences. If you tell the author that you prefer w theme, x trope, y character, or z ship, this can read as asking for a free commission. Kindly find someone who is open for requests or commission a writer. It's okay and wonderful to be excited about where the story might go and to speculate! But if someone gifts you chocolate chip cookies, maybe uhhh don't mention that you prefer snickerdoodles unless they ask.

What is the "best" kind of review?

The best kind of review 1.) exists and 2.) is positive and encouraging. This is (what I personally believe is) the most broadly applicable statement. For folks who specify that they want constructive criticism and/or proofreading help, then it's that.

I personally think that the best way to review is to mention something specific from the update that stood out to you. Even if you don't have the spoons or desire to articulate why, knowing what is resonating and working is awesome! But what most fandom creators need is to feel that they are being heard, so the simple reviews ("I love this! This is great! Thanks for the food!" etc etc) are treasured.

That's all I can think of! It's kind of you to care and to ask.

[sewritersupport]

What kind of feedback should I give?

While our event focuses more on giving quality feedback, anything you can throw in the comment/review box is usually welcome! Here are some ideas:

Short comments

Long comments

Questions

Constructive criticism

“<3” as extra kudos

Reader-reader interaction

If you're ever not wanting an author to reply to you for any reason, feel free to whisper your comment/review!

[ninainthetardis]

⚠️⚠️⚠️ HoFaS Spoilers ahead ⚠️⚠️⚠️

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Just a bunch of things about this finale that I wanted to get off my chest. I will start by saying that I found it overall underwhelming, unsatisfying and anticlimactic, so you can guess it's not going to be a positive rant here. This is the part of my GR review I haven't posted there.

Please, do not come at me under this post or the others. This is just my opinion, and I won't be answering any rude comment. I have the right to express my own disappointment. Those who want to have a constructive and respectful conversation are always welcome, though.

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• The crossover ended up being reeeeally underwhelming, and the whole Ruhn/Rhys thing that built the entire hype for this book was explained in the lamest way possible (and at a certain point even forgotten by the characters). Also, what the hell were those references to ToG that were just dropped there without further explanation? We know how the Fae from Prythian got to Midgard, but what about the ToG ones? How is it that Lidia has knowledge about her ancestors from the other world? Also, how could Lidia know she had fire magic even when Danika was alive if elemental magic had been hidden and kept dormient in every Vanir for centuries?

• I am not a big fan of Azriel and Bryce, and I am definitely not on the list of Nesta's fans, but you know what? This trio worked. For some reason, I liked to see them interacting, and I actually found Azriel and Nesta's dynamic an element that could be interesting if explored in the following acotar books. Maybe it's just that I didn't care about any of them enough to be bothered by the things I usually find annoying (Bryce), triggering (Nesta), and irritating (Azriel) in such characters.

Too bad Nesta screwed it up with the mask thing (which I have already discussed here) and in Ember/Randall's bonus chapter with the return of her spiteful, ungrateful, behaviour/attitude. I guess the best I can hope for when it comes to Nesta is to be civil to her and nothing more, just like it happened with post ToD Chaol. Slightly less even. Like, maybe she could stop triggering me every two pages. That would be progress and beyond any of my expectations, really. It would make the next acotar books much easier to read, though I cannot forget how she's been in the past.

• I didn't like the info dump both in the final part of the crossover and in the part with the Princes. I would have preferred some flashbacks showing what happened to the "tell don't show" technique SJM chose here. And finding out what happened in the First War, for me, was the most interesting point of the whole book, so that execution disappointed me.

• Why was everything resolved so easily? Bryce got everything she needed provided for, or told by someone else, she somehow managed to master new skills within a range of few seconds (the same can be told for Lidia and the other characters when freed of the infection) and the most interesting aspect of her character - her being so underpowered in comparison to the Asteri - Was totally nullified by the ridiculous amount of power she got along the way. Literally, all they did/tried to do, worked first try. Where is the struggle? Where is the pain KoA made me feel? Where are the emotions? The only moment I felt something was that "Light it up, Danika!" At the end of the book. Just that.

And where is the characters development? Ships development? Also, the always absent talking about traumas is really getting on my nerves. I'll be making examples about this later.

• What the hell was that recycled finale? It resembled KoA's finale. It even had the "Rhys is dead" plot twist, but with Bryce and with the same resolution. Also, what was the point of having characters killed in books 1 and 2 if Hypaxia could've just resurrected them within a couple of minutes? I hate the resurrection theme, especially when overused. It diminishes everything.

• I am apparently one of the few people who's given Hypaxia some consideration. She's been one of my favourites ever since the first book, but... in HoFaS she's just doing miracles, resurrecting people, and developing an antidote out of the blue in a couple of hours (really?), which brings me back to the fact that in this, everything happened too easily.

• So, SJM is trying to tell me that the Asteri were so clever to submit a population of powerful Vanir people for 15000 years, meanwhile keeping hidden form them that they were limiting and stealing their magic, - and even eating their dead's - but then failed to imagine Bryce's real plan because they were too arrogant? Wtf was that? Am i supposed to believe that Rigelus just underestimated her when in book 1, he was the one trying to keep her calm and content because he recognised how dangerous she was, after all she had done?

• What was the point of introducing Ariadne?

• I can't say I am totally disappointed in Jesiba's character, I just don't understand why the most powerful characters for magic or combat skills were kept away from the battle against beings as powerful as the Asteri lol Her arriving only at the end of the battle, Fury and Baxian being away... meh, everything was just kind of disappointing.

• Also, black holes? 🤨 no insights about the battle and the Princes fighting? All we got was literally: "The Princes killed the other Asteri, yay!". Did I mention that it was all so disappointing and anticlimactic?

• Now, let's move on to specific characters:

- Tharion "the funny one turned into Mr Boredom".

I have to say it. He was the king of repetitive povs in book 2, and just one of the many characters in this series who started off as being interesting only to become almost annoying by the end of it. But he's the friend who can't do anything right to the point you end up thinking your own bullshit is not that shitty. Repetitive povs and excessive whining (he was supposed to be the funny one sigh) aside, I kind of still care about him. And him and Sathia are unexpectedly interesting as a couple, but we'll see if they become an actual one. I also liked his sort of friendship with Ariadne. And the one with the Aux and Ithan, "the pack". Please, let him sort his shit out and be fine because he's such a mess I cannot even hold it against him, lol

- Bryce the Fa(k)e Woke Queen-lan

I won't say that Bryce's character was butchered here because there was nothing to butcher according to me, she's always been like this. It just became more evident.

From HoSaB to the end, she's been annoying. Though she had some moments of glory along the way, I have to admit that. But why was she convinced that she could be Aelin all of a sudden? She was never a strategist nor a planner (and her plans ALWAYS failed, except her plans in HoFaS? How's that?). Her most successful moments were due to improvisation, - prompted by survival instinct - and luck. Now she's suddenly an entitled overpowered mastermind lol

She has zero respect for others feelings/traumas, as usual she's always right and anyone who disagrees with her is just an alpha asshole, she's better and knows better than anyone else (and I am still trying to figure out why she's supposed to be any of those things) and she's constantly criticising anyone else... for things she does herself too. Great. Like, in the crossover she literally complains about Nesta and Az manipulating her while.. she was doing the very same thing to them? Just like in book 1, when she was complaining all the time about Fury not talking to her while she did the same thing to Ithan.

And what the hell were her plans, anyway? She was so desperately trying to be Aelin, but she never even had a chance. Leaving Baxian and Fury in a naturally protected place and not taking them to battle? How is that smart? Not calling Jesiba, the powerful witch, to join the battle? HOW IS ANY OF THAT SMART?

She had a whole conversation with Nesta before Rhys arrived, his shadows announced pages before? (Wtf?)

She bloody endangered Prythian, almost freed and unleashed an Asteri on Prythian's soil, and Nesta GAVE HER THE MASK? (WTF I-don't-even-know-which-part-this-is-anymore)

Now, should I comment on Bryce's total disrespect for her mate's trauma and past while he's always been thoughtful when it came to hers? I do not ship them AT ALL, and it's not because Hunt is boring as someone claims, but because Hunt deserved better, tbh and I loved them in book 1! Worst SJM main female character, really.

Also, please tell me again why she was supposed to be the queen of a species she literally hated and didn't want anything to do with. She was Queen of generalisation in that sense. I loved how Baxian called her out and made her realise that she was only considering what was convenient and conform to her prefixed, biased ideas (the speech where he compares wolves and fae). I mean, she was right about fae nobility, but there were innocents among the fae too and she was talking about how the whole species deserved obliteration, while claiming wolves were better (when statistically there was a huge amount of wolves who judged her just like the fae and did nothing to help during the attack, just like the fae... because they obey to their leaders, and Sabine was just as bad as Morven and the Autumn King. Wolves were not all like the Devil's pack, Ithan and Danika, just like fae were not all like the Autumn/Avallen king). All while not considering the fae among her group and treating Declan and Flynn like shit for absolute no reason. Or giving those shitty answers to Sathia about her plans for the fae people... she was a victim of the system more than Bryce tbh Bryce's wokeness would have been so much more believable, useful and coherent if she wasn't biased as the ones she accused or an alpha asshole herself.

I am sorry, but I just cannot stand her hypocrisy. And I cannot stand generalisation.

- Hunt "the powerbank" Athalar

He was literally conceived to be Bryce's powerbank first and later his shadow (Umbra Mortis?!) who follows her everywhere without even being given the chance to have a say in what they are going to do. Otherwise, he'd be acting like an alpha asshole. Just to be told not to make a fuss about being held captive and tortured with his friends. I'm so pissed for his arc, because he was so interesting in book 1, only for his povs to become repetitive and sometimes boring in book 2 and almost non existing in book 3, like he didn't have any inviduality other than being Bryce's mate and anchor. Also, how could he blame himself for anything when Bryce didn't even listen to his warnings/complains/objections, leaving him with no other choice but following her to get at least the chance to protect/help her?

And then she's like "I don't want you to just follow me, I want that you want to do this" (wtf?)

Bonus: being son of Apollion or Thanatos instead of somehow created by them in terms of powers would have been so much more interesting.

I liked his friendship with Ruhn and Baxian though, and missed him and Isaiah/Naomi.

- Ithan "I don't even know what I'm doing" Holstrom

Why was Ithan so damn sure Sigrid would be a good leader for the wolves is beyond me. He didn't know her. Literally, it was just because she was a Fendyr. That was his only argument in support of his theory. As if Sabine wasn't proof that being a Fendyr didn't automatically make you a good leader. As if Sigrid didn't act entitled and reckless and dominant and selfish and despotic the whole time. It's all she's done, really, and he did not expect that she was not that good as he wanted her so desperately to be? SHE AIMED TO KILL HIM IN THAT PIT! Him, the very person who risked everything to save her, the only person who ever cared about her! A person who was not trying to harm her despite the circumstances. She was not going to try and find another way even though she knew all those lives depended on the group getting out the Viper Queen's hands... it was self defense and I truly get his struggle to accept what happened BUT defeating the Asteri was the priority and the fact that she came back 5 seconds later as a creature that could not be killed and known for being dangerous, when it is known that messing with the dead usually leads to no good... did not exactly make me empathise at all with this whole arc. And after that, he was still whining about Sigrid instead of fully focusing on fighting the Asteri...

It's a pity because I really liked him before this Sigrid thing. But I'd be willing to give him a second - or should I say third? - chance. I think Perry may be his mate, anyway, and I am kind of curious about that.

- Ruhn/Lidia

I was totally unimpressed by them as a couple after book 2, but I thought they were getting interesting at the beginning of book 3. Then somehow Lidia felt entitled to be pissed at Ruhn because he was struggling to accept that Day was the Hind (wtf) and then Ruhn felt entitled to be pissed at Lidia for not talking to him about her past (wtf part 2). Only to forget/postpone all of their issues because they were horny and about to go to battle against the Asteri. That's not ship building/development. Ruhn shooting her was too much, even if he was trying to protect her and sacrifice himself. But that idea made no sense and had literally no use or purpose. Why did SJM think it would be a good idea? Adding some drama/shock value element that was totally uncalled for and that only resulted in diminishing a ship that wasn't even well developed to begin with? Because it served nothing and it was dumb. Leaving Lidia wounded and vulnerable. One of the best assets they had in that battle - and they didn't bring many with them. Just like clockwork hadn't been for Tharion, they would have all been dead five seconds later.

To think that the fact that Lidia already had two kids was such an interesting and unexplored arc for mates... sigh, I am disappointed.

I am happy that it was Ruhn to deal with the Autumn King in the end, though. He deserved closure and to free himself of that monster. I am quite sad that his character never had the chance to fully come out.

Lidia carried the whole book. I loved her.

- Baxian/Danika

They truly were the most interesting ship in this series. I hope there will be a flashback book/novella about them. I swear I would love it. Their dynamic is also interesting, and I'd love to get to know Baxian better. But maybe, we will?

To sum up, this series left me absolutely nothing. I do not care enough about any of the characters, I didn't get particularly affectionate to any of them. Its major strength was the focus on friendship, but after the first book, it was almost absent, the principle only slightly reminded by Ruhn, Dec and Flynn/Hunt, Rhun, and Baxian. The premises of the story in general were so good (HoEaB), but the execution through book 2 and 3 was so poor it disappointed me. It's not a bad series, it is entertaining in its own way... it's just a bit "undertone" if compared to the other SJM series, it lacked of emotions, plot/characters/ships development and impact, I don't know how to say it. I hope the next books will be better. My guess is on Ithan, Tharion, Flynn next. Or even Sathia, considering that SJM prefers female povs. I wish we'd seen Fury and Juniper a bit more, and Dec and Marc, but they are established couples, so I don't think we'll see any of them as main. Flynn has that slightly hinted thing with Ariadne, who was introduced and forgotten, so maybe she'll be important later? I want to stay optimistic lol

I wished there was a better development for Ruhn and Lidia as a couple, though, and Ruhn as a character because I think they'll be side characters from now on. Also, why on earth was their marriage in a bonus chapter? That's not extra content. That's the ending for two of the main characters. It's not fair!

Btw, imo the only memorable characters in this series so far are Danika, Baxian, Aidas, and Lidia.

[emilykaldwen]

A long time ago I stopped reading and reviewing your work because you started making these kind of comment posts. I want to keysmash and share my excitement at your work but it began to feel like walking on eggshells so I stopped. You are not just about leaving nasty comments, you explicitly censor anything negatively toned even if it's not about your story. Like if I say in passing I don't like Otto in general you take that as an attack on your story.

Your whole attitude in general is very defensive on here. If people don't somehow align with your personal ethos, you respond aggressively, no matter what it is or if it's not aimed at you. You're extremely critical too and overreact. Your friends are very similar to you. When they express opinions, it becomes just an exercise in gatekeeping or dictating to the fandom. Your post there is a perfect example of telling people what to do because anything else doesn't suit you. Maybe you don't want criticism etc but I welcome feedback of all kinds and review it accordingly. I've learned a lot from critical comments. I know it's not for everyone but that's the point, everyone is different. You want everyone to be like you and follow your rules. You're a tin hat dictator.

This was written because people were going into a fellow author's comments and all they were doing was tearing down the character journeys. That's not constructive criticism, that's just being shitty.

I'm sorry that you feel like you have to walk on eggshells around me, I welcome keysmashing and excitement, but genuinely, I'm not here to read unsolicited criticism (which IS different from feedback) about something I'm doing in my free time. And that's okay. And it's okay if you're explicitly welcoming concrit. But my concrit is curated through my beta readers. If I wanted constructive crit, I would explicitly ask for that.

When it comes to crit, at the end of the day, I don't know you (general you). You don't know me! and we don't have the trust of that kind of talk, and only my beta circle knows the kind of story that I'm trying to tell.

Like I said, it's totally fine if you are someone who is looking for/welcoming that. All my post was saying, as I said up top: this post was in direct response to people being assholes with nothing constructive and hurting people who have worked hard on their stories. It upset me, and I'm allowed to be upset, because it's like people don't understand there's someone on the other side of the screen.

When you leave a comment about wanting x character to die and you hate them and complain about choices the author is making, consistently, across chapters, I feel like we should all agree that that's shitty behavior. It's being mean for the sake of being loud. It's going into someone's inbox and telling them all this effort you put in is all for nothing because I personally don't like it.

And honestly, I've been in this space long enough where I'm just tired of it. This is supposed to be a fun hobby for people: it's why I always say 'if you don't know what kind of comment to leave, just say thanks! or leave a heart emoji'. And yeah, I get upset in my friend's comments because I'm on the other side listening to her cry because every single comment she's getting is wanting characters to die or complaining about plot points. THAT is what this is about. And I think anyone would feel that for a friend who has been working so hard on something that they're excited and passionate about.

Because when someone leaves a comment talking about what they hate/dislike about the story and that's it, with nothing about 'hey I really like this character portrayal or plot', that sucks. That's demotivating. And I'm seeing it happen across the board and driving writers away. This is why people stop writing.

Fic authors, we aren't publishing books. This isn't up for review USA Today. It's on tumblr, or wattpad, or AO3.

There is 100% a difference between well thought out feedback, and just being inconsiderate and unkind in someone's comments and going shocked pikachu when an author says 'I'm sorry you don't like it, but don't do that'. That's all I'm saying.

I'm not defensive about myself, I'm upset and angry on behalf of what I see happening to my friends, and what I see across fandoms as a whole. I'm glad you've found commenters helpful, but I think we're talking about different types of comments.