#did she feel the need to justify her actions to herself. that she's NOTHING like dahlia and she had reasons for acting that way

[icallhimjoey]

Not sure if you've done this but it fits the general mood of the fandom lately: I want grovel-y Joe. Knows he really fucked up but he's a guy so he doesn't know how to fix it so he just throws anything at the wall to see what sticks. And honestly we're not sure if we'll forgive him but we're definitely sticking around to see how far he's willing to go.

(yes I am in therapy 🤣)

okay im using this request to fix whatever that bullshit was that i wrote before this - hope you enjoy! Wordcount: 3.8K

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I'll Let The Sun Decide

Joe realises it in the morning. Feels like the biggest fucking idiot in the world.

Correction: the biggest fucking idiot on the moon.

He watches you walk out of his bedroom after leaving a perfect cup of coffee, exactly how he likes it, on his bedside table and everything about that makes his heart ache.

After the way he behaved last night, he knows he doesn't deserve a sweet gesture from the girl who looks like she only managed to sleep for about two hours.

You look exhausted.

He only catches a glimpse of you, and a few seconds later he can hear the coffee machine go again. You're making a coffee for yourself after making him one, and Joe can't help but groan his face into his pillow.

Fuck.

He didn't reach out for you in the night.

Your one fucking rule.

He vaguely remembers going, "Hmm?" after he raised his head off his pillow in a jolt.

"Just me." You'd whispered, nothing malicious hidden in your voice, because it was after midnight and it wasn't the time to continue whatever you'd started earlier that evening.

He should've reached over then.

He hadn't. Not even a knee to your thigh, or a toe to your foot.

Nothing.

He should've been happy you'd come back to his flat instead of going to your own. You could've so easily decided to avoid him for a bit, but you didn't. You said you'd come back, and then you did, and, fuck.

He hadn't reached out.

He hadn't even read the texts you'd sent. Left you with a bunch of grey ticks.

Well.

He had read them, but only in the notification bar.

He'd seen the messages about you making it to the office safely. Of how Charlotte was there too - you'd do the work together and you'd be done much faster that way. A little later of how you'd just be another hour, and of how you'd let him know when you'd leave.

He wanted you to feel bad about choosing your work over him, so he withheld the coloured ticks and had felt real fucking smug over it. It was sickening how right he'd felt about his actions in the moment. Every petty little thing justified, just because you'd hurt his feelings.

You'd climbed into bed after he had already fallen asleep, and the feeling of movement next to him pulled him from his slumber. And then, instead of reaching over like he should have done, he had sighed all heavily, like he was really fucking annoyed that you'd woken him up as you got comfortable under his covers. He'd rolled over and ignored you. Turned his back and festered in his own anger like a moody teenager because he truly believed you deserved it.

What a fucking loser.

Didn't touch you all night.

The realisation slaps him in the face unexpectedly, and your early-morning kind gesture is what flips the entire script. What a fucking loser of a boyfriend.

You've made the deadline.

Joe sees it when he opens his messages after taking a perfect sip of hot coffee, and it's weird how he feels awful about himself and proud of you at the same time.

He didn't need to let the world burn over such a tiny inconvenience.

Joe hates the moon.

Longs for the sun.

The moon is cold and dark and he's all alone up there, only warmed by the light the sun will bring him.

The sun. Or, the messy-haired girl with tired eyes in soft clothes too big for her body who brought him a hot cup of coffee before she even made one for herself. Either or. Same thing.

Joe stares at your messages in silence, gives you the coloured ticks he should've given you last night, and feels heavy guilt find home in the pit of his stomach.

You finished all the work in time. Probably have done a real good job at it too. Did it at the office, away from Joe's bad temper, and managed to actually focus and forget about how he told you to fuck off when you were already on your way out anyway.

What a dick-move.

Fragile ego syndrome, you'd guessed then.

That dick-move is what had you second-guessing going back over to Joe's for a while. Maybe going back to your own flat was the smarter idea. Avoid the confrontation and just text him the next day, after he'd cooled off a bit.

Maybe he'd actually read those then.

Another dick-move.

Joe could be so annoying sometimes, but it was easy to read him and you knew that just a little consideration of your time would fix whatever this silly issue was. With that in mind, you'd made your way back over to his.

You knew his dick-moves only meant he was going to feel bad about himself come tomorrow morning.

And you were right.

Besides an annoyed sigh and a soft grumble, you didn't get much else from him when you got into bed.

That was fine.

Again, you didn't think it was the right time to continue a fight anyway.

But the morning brought something new.

You woke up before Joe did and it took a few seconds for you to remember. To realise your prediction was right. Joe hasn't reached out in the night. No silent I still love you touch under the covers for you.

And it stings.

Could make you cry if you thought about it long enough.

Joe's stayed on his side of the bed, facing away from you, and you tell yourself that at least you've come back to his flat like you said you would. You finished the work you had to finish, and did the right thing by returning.

But then, you concluded, you also haven't reached out to him at all, and immediately felt bad.

Joe can be so annoying sometimes, but you do still love him, and a warm palm to a shoulder blade could've at least let him know.

It would've made you the bigger person.

Which, you still were. You came back, didn't you? But Joe was being an absolute child and you didn't want to sink down to his level.

You should've reached over. Should've touched him. You have no good excuse for not following the one rule you came up with after your first real argument, and now you feel bad.

Shit.

The coffee is to make up for it. At least a little. To say, I'm sorry I didn't reach out, here's me doing that now.

"Morning," you whispered when you saw him stir and open a squinty, confused eye.

You didn't wait for a reply. Just left the coffee there and walked back to go and make yourself one too.

Joe watched you leave and the moon came crashing down.

He knows what the coffee means.

He's read your messages, can hear you make breakfast in his kitchen and decides he needs to reach out too. With his coffee in hand, he gets up and makes his way over to his living area where he finds you rubbing your fist into an eye through a yawn, with a carton of eggs in the other hand.

"Morning," he croaks, and sees how it's only just starting to get light outside, it's so early still.

It feels a little weird and embarrassing to speak to you right now. To remember how you'd been in this same room just a few hours ago, and he'd told you to fuck off.

Fuck off, he'd said. To his girlfriend. Had meant it with his whole chest too. What a fucking idiot.

You turn your head to give him a small smile that doesn't reach your eyes, and ask, "Do you want some eggs?"

The moon can die.

He doesn't want the moon.

The moon is too far from the sun. He wants you closer and happy and well-rested and for your smile to overtake your whole lovely beautiful face when you see him and he hasn't got the faintest clue where to even start to fix it.

He doesn't know how to turn all the feelings in his chest into words to convey how sorry he feels. Has no idea what to say. Has no idea how you'll react to a verbal apology either.

But you look so soft, shoulders slouched, the scrunched up bit of fabric that held your hair up and out of your face as you slept about to slip out. And, even though he can tell it's not a real smile, you're still giving him a kind face. You're being civil.

You've made him a coffee how he likes it and just offered to make him some eggs and, Jesus, he's just the most awful person ever, isn't he?

The overwhelming need to wrap himself around all of you takes over.

Joe leaves his coffee on the side and steps closer to attach himself to your back. You accept it, and he can feel how you let your head rest against the side of his as he hugs you, arms tight around your waist.

He's glad that you let him.

But he also feels the defeat there.

The, Joe what the fuck, that's waiting to slip out of your mouth. Maybe it's why you're keeping things surface level. No time or energy to get into an actual conversation right now. Just breakfast eggs and perfect coffee.

That's okay.

Joe doesn't know what to say anyway, and he'd love some eggs, actually.

"I'd love some, but," Joe kisses the side of your face, does it quick so he doesn't have to feel you pull away from it, and then gently moves you aside. "Let me."

A first attempt at fixing it.

Joe finishes breakfast whilst you go for the quickest shower of your life. When you turn the water off he asks what time you need to leave from the kitchen. His eyes find your coffee that's going cold, and he thinks it's so stupid that you have to be back at work so soon.

This time he doesn't feel sorry for himself, though. This time he feels sorry for you.

It's a big difference.

You've only just left the office, Joe thinks. And sure, sometimes he makes long hours and feels like he lives on set, but you're in an office.

He knows that's different.

Worse.

You've got to go and present all the things you've finished and he knows you like it just as much as he does. That being: not at all. There's no use in getting angry at you.

He sees that now.

You're just as much at fault for not being able to go out with him last night as he is. That being: not at all.

Joe watches you take a few hurried mouthfuls of egg on toast, and he wants to tell you sorry before you leave.

He doesn't.

Isn't sure how, and feels like a literal child because, Jesus Christ, they're just words.

But you smile at him, even though it's only small. And you let him kiss your cheek on your way out. And when you've left, it's not even eight o'clock, which is too fucking early, and he decides he needs to give you more quiet I love yous that he didn't give you under the covers in the night the way he should've done.

You get flowers delivered to the office that afternoon.

It's a large bunch, beautiful colours, and you can't lie; it absolutely makes you smile. You can tell it's expensive, and you know he's paid extra for the same day delivery, but... he didn't reach for you last night, and you didn't reach for him either, and whenever you think of Joe, that's all that comes to mind.

You'd seen him turn to stone.

So cold and careless.

Had seen in his face how he didn't give a single shit about how inconsiderate he was being.

A bunch of flowers isn't going to magically make that visual go away, but it's nice that he' tried's trying, and you try to hold onto that.

When you leave the office that day, you text Joe that you're headed to your own flat because there's food in your fridge that needs eating before it goes off, and your dishwasher is half filled with dirty dishes that have been in there for about a week already, so you kind of need to go turn it on, and there's probably also a load of laundry you could do, plus a quick pass of your floors with a vacuum, maybe.

Joe doesn't get to read it for a few hours. Busy day on set. When he eventually does, sort of annoyed that you had to wait for his coloured ticks again, he texts back, "Yours?"

And you text back so quickly, it makes his guilt grow.

"don't forget your key, im gonna lie down "

Perfect, Joe thinks. He'll sneak in and maybe get some of your shit sorted whilst you kip on your sofa.

But when he walks in, you're not on the sofa. You're already in bed, and that's sort of heartbreaking, because it's so early, and Joe finds the food that's about to go off uneaten in your fridge still. Finds the dishwasher still half filled, smelling rank, dirty dishes growing mould in there. He also sees the full hamper that needs sorting and washing, and, how had he even had the gall to assume that you could just make time for him at a moment's notice when you hadn't even been able to take care of any of this?

Joe starts the dishwasher.

Sorts your dirty laundry and starts a dark wash.

Cooks the food that's about to go off and places it in plastic tubs to have at another time.

Notices you've not taken the flowers that he had express delivered home and tries not let that affect him, but fails.

You're not sure what it is that wakes you. The beeping of the dishwasher, or the clanging of plates as Joe places the clean ones back into their cupboards. When Joe comes to find you, you're on your side, facing away from the door, but Joe can see you're awake by the light from your phone that silhouettes you.

"You're awake," Joe says, voice surprised, and it makes you turn to look over your shoulder.

"Hey," you say softly, and Joe's eyebrows knit together automatically at how sad you sound.

"Thanks for the flowers," you turn in bed to let Joe kiss you as he bends over to place a small one to your forehead. "They got delivered during my presentation."

"Was it embarrassing?" Joe asks, sitting down next to you, one arm either side of you as he leans over. Kisses you again, but on your mouth this time.

"Very. Vanessa just barged in with them."

"Did you like them?"

"Hmm," you nod and give a little smile. Joe's glad for it, but he feels there's a distance there still. You're keeping your hands to yourself, even though his bare arms are right there.

"I um," Joe starts, and wants to start listing all the things he's done. Wants to tell you how he's been sweet, and kind, like you were with him this morning, and he wants those things to be the silent I love yous he should've given you last night.

But then he changes his mind and says, "Did the, um... did the presentation go okay?"

You nod, because it did go really well, actually. Thank fuck. But Joe doesn't ask any more questions about it, and he seems to hesitate to even speak at all. Seems to want to say something that he's clearly not saying. Afraid to say the wrong thing, maybe. You wonder if there's a sincere I'm sorry hiding in there somewhere.

"You seem tired..." he skirts around the issue, and it's disappointing, but not surprising.

"I am tired."

Then Joe looks at the empty space in your bed for a moment and gets up. Starts undressing. Leaves his clothes in a neat pile on your dresser and goes to brush his teeth.

When Joe looks at himself in the mirror, he frowns.

Fucking idiot.

Look at that coward.

He rests both hands on the sink, hangs into his shoulders, breathes through flared nostrils, and feels like a failure. You must think he is one too.

He didn't reach over last night.

With his toothbrush still in his mouth, he steps back into your bedroom and inhales a deep breath through his nose before he mumbles a barely audible and a very foamy, "I shouldn't have..."

He hears himself, grumbles low in this throat and turns on his heel, spits the toothpaste out and comes back.

Starts again.

"I shouldn't have said those things. Last night. I was being a dick, I shouldn't have done– well, anything, really. I was being mean just to be mean, I'm–"

"Joe," you interrupt, your voice soft.

You didn't reach out either.

"No," Joe argues, moves to sit back down next to you, arms back either side of you, hands pressing into the mattress. "You have nothing to be sorry for, I just," Joe sighs. Frowns. Doesn't know what to say.

What can he say to make you run a hand up one of his forearms?

"I didn't..." he tries once more, but falters again. Drops his head and knows he can't cry because he is not the person he's hurt.

He didn't reach over last night.

"Hey. I didn't either."

You read between the lines, even though your vision goes blurry with tears. You can hear the words Joe isn't saying and can read the thoughts he's not communicating. Joe's face always tells you a million things. You wonder if he's aware how easy he is to read.

You also wonder if he's aware that it's not going to be enough.

Joe swipes a thumb across your temple, close to your eye, and catches a tear that was about to slide into your hair.

He swallows thickly. Tries to swallow down whatever's hurting his throat.

"I don't want to live on the moon..." he then mutters, regretting how he set the world on fire. He wants to live on planet earth, even though it's all grey and black ashes now. He'll plant flowers there. Will feed them water, and will politely ask the sun let them grow.

Will ask you.

You're the sun.

You get to decide.

You don't fully understand what Joe means, because it sounds ridiculous, actors and their theatrics, but you tell him you don't want to live on the moon either and he huffs a laugh at how absurd that sounds coming from your straight face that's pretending it's not actively crying.

You're the sun.

Of course you don't want to live on the moon, silly.

"Your priority–" you start, breath hitching, but Joe is quick to interrupt.

"You. You. Us. I'm... it's us. I promise, it's us..." Joe sighs again, seemingly upset at remembering his own behaviour.

"Saying that is easy, though," you start, finally letting your fingers slowly wrap around one of his arms.

A touch.

It's enough to make Joe's whole face crumble.

He ducks down. Lets his arms find your shoulders to pull you up a little so he can hug you properly, both arms wrapped tightly around your frame, his face hidden into your neck, and you know Joe's only crying because of your fingertips touching his wrist. The smallest things can get him sometimes – so dramatic.

But you continue, "I believe that you believe that your priority is us, but when you're stomping around your kitchen, blaming me for shit I have no controll over, telling me that it's my fault that I–"

"No," Joe mumbles into your skin, and pulls back just enough to press his forehead against yours. "No."

And you give his forehead a slight push with yours and you want to say, yes.

Yes that's what you were doing.

Yes that's what happened.

Yes you got caught up in all of your own feelings and forgot that I have a whole set of my own.

But then Joe whispers, "I'm sorry." and you can't help but go absolutely lax in his hold.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have. I love you, I'm sorry." he whispers his apologies against your mouth through heavy breaths because he's doing his best to not cry, but he's failing, because then he feels you shake with a sob, and, fuck that, he'll banish himself to the moon, actually.

He'll live up there no matter how miserable it is, and he'll take whatever sunlight he can get, and he'll be thankful for the rays you'll allow to even reach him at all.

"You didn't t-touch–" you stutter, and immediately feel Joe squeeze you tighter.

"I'm sorry, I love you. I'm so sorry." Joe whispers right into your ear. Keeps repeating it, over and over and over.

Your one rule.

He should've never broken it.

It's good to hear the words, the I'm sorrys tumbling over his lips, and you'll accept them for now. But actions speak louder than words, and you know that there will probably be a time where the way the world treats Joe will make his head grow to twice its size again. He'll do and say similar shit. Won't want to meet you halfway, but will demand that you make the trek all the way over to him, won't care what the ground will look like, and won't care if you're wearing shoes for it or not.

Joe doesn't know it right now, but you can see into the future and know it will happen again.

And when it does, you'll grow a little colder.

Let some of your rays die out.

"Here. Lay back." Joe says after holding you for a while, and when your head finds your pillow again, Joe curls around and uses every body part of his to touch yours under the covers.

Every inch of skin touching yours is a big fat quiet I love you that he'll repeatedly tell you all night. He's not gonna let go.

He knows he's on the moon still. Up there, all alone. Cold. In the dark.

He said he's sorry, but knows it's not enough.

Wants off, but is smart enough to not set foot somewhere he's not allowed yet.

He has said that he's sorry, and now he needs to wait for the sun.

Wait for you.

And he'll touch you under the covers until you're ready.

Whispers the promises into your hair as you fall asleep.

You get to decide.

He'll let the sun decide.

---

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add yourself

[relicsongmel]

As much as Phoenix using Maya/Mia to get information out of Victor Kudo during Recipe for Turnabout makes me uncomfortable because he basically blindsided her with a situation in which her being ogled was literally the whole point (even if he didn't foresee it not working and Maya deciding to channel her sister as a result), I can't help but be fascinated by Mia's whole behavior in that scene and how it reminds me of Dahlia. The fact that they both hide that they'd really rather not be there with a polite smile and take full advantage of their femininity to nullify the potential threat of men and get what they want from them? It can't be a coincidence—it's gotta be a deliberate parallel on the part of the writers because there's simply no way they weren't highlighting that Mia and Dahlia can't wash away the similarity of their mannerisms despite the fact they're mortal (immortal?) enemies. There's no way they weren't using this to slyly foreshadow the fact that they're related do you guys SEE MY VISION

[destinysbounty]

A lot of people like to gripe that Harumi's motivations didn't make a lot of sense, but honestly? To me, I feel like that was kinda the whole point. She's a traumatized kid lashing out at the world, trying to justify her actions with a false veneer of morality - when it truth she just wants everyone to suffer like she did. She wants to feel like she is doing something good, that she's saving the world, but in truth those are just lies she tells herself to help her remain in denial of the fact that she is just a scared, broken child.

"I want you feel the emptiness that I feel!" Of course she didn't have a motivation that made sense!

The thing we need to take away from this isn't "well Lloyd's been through way worse trauma and he turned out okay". The takeaway should be, "people have the power to heal from their pain, but only if they're given the support needed to do so." Lloyd had the ninja there to guide and support him and show him love. Harumi only had her gilded cage of the palace and the emotionally distant royal family.

It's important to note that Lloyd and Harumi are inverse parallels of each other. Where Lloyd's arc began, hers ended (in s9 at least). Lloyd started off as a lonely, traumatized kid with no support system, who unleashes forces beyond his control out of a misguided idolization of Garmadon. But then he's given a home and a loving family, and he's able to become the hero we all know and love.

Harumi's the inverse. She started off with a home and a loving family and a support system, but it all got torn away from her. And in her isolation and neglect, Harumi languished. And when we meet her in s8, what has become of her? She's a lonely, traumatized kid who unleashes forces beyond her control out of a misguided idolization of Garmadon.

She hates Lloyd for the same reason Lloyd never gives up on her, even as late as Crystalized: they see themselves in the other. They're equal and opposite reflections of each other. I think on some level, both of them are subconsciously aware of this.

Harumi resents Lloyd for receiving the life she was robbed of, and Lloyd pities Harumi for falling victim to the life he left behind.

Harumi looks at Lloyd, son of Lord Garmadon, and thinks it should have been her. Lloyd looks at Harumi and pities her, seeing nothing but a broken shell of his past self. This is why Harumi wants to break him and revert him to that past shell. This is why Lloyd never gives up on her, always holding out hope that she can change.

So yeah. Harumi's motives don't make sense. And personally, that's one of the things I find most interesting about her.

[crossfandomslut]

At Peace in Your Fire pt. 3

part 1 and part 2

Summary: Hewn City bs and lots of Eris screen time haha

Pairing: ErisxArcheron!reader

Word Count: 4k

Notes: I am so so excited that people are liking this story so far !!! I love all your comments and am so appreciative of the likes and reblogs ! For this chapter, I did use a big chunk of the direct dialog from ACOWAR for the Hewn City meeting with Eris, because I think its important context and I wasn't about to rewrite SJM's mastery. So disclaimer, I do not own any of SJM's characters or speak for her or them in anyway ! This is just for shits and gigs and I hope y'all enjoy this chapter ! Also please let me know how we feel about the Eris POV :)

Amber eyes and a pale face littered in freckles, framed by fiery red hair,  stared wildly at her. Eyes full of fear and confusion contorted his beautiful features. He was stunning, truly. Rakish, almost lanky, but toned muscles rippled under his well-fitted clothes as he fell to the ground gripping and clawing at his throat, trying to force air back into his lungs. Y/n did that to him. She made another being feel that pain and suffering. But he was hurting her sister. He was hurting Feyre. Y/n didn’t know why she had to remind herself of that fact so often to justify her actions that day on the frozen lake, but she had fallen asleep thinking about the male every night since.

Now that Feyre was home, things started moving pretty quickly. Hybern was making moves in the Spring Court to bring down the wall to the human lands, and thus putting Prythian on the brink of another war. Everyone was hard at work planning, coordinating, and scheming, but Y/n was told to just keep training. She wanted to be useful when the time came, so she was going to need to hone her powers and her physical abilities. She finally got to be a part of the plans when Rhys announced at family dinner that everyone would be taking a trip to Hewn City.

Y/n wasn’t afraid per-say, but she wasn’t sure what to expect. Feyre had told her that Amarantha’s ‘lair’ for lack of a better term, was designed after the city. She wasn’t sure she wanted to see that firsthand after hearing about everything that Feyre and Rhys went through. She was going to put on a brave face though. It’s not about her. It was about helping this court, her new family, and potentially the fate of the world as they knew it.

She studied herself in the mirror after selecting the right dress. Rhys had told her to wear whatever color she wanted, but she knew that this visit to Hewn City was all about appearances and she needed to help show that they were a united front. She had never been fond of black. It always looked so good on her twin, but Y/n preferred softer, neutral tones that helped her blend into the trees and underbrush. Tonight however, she would step out of her comfort zone. Adapt. Her constant mantra. So, she studied herself in the mirror, eyes gliding along her body that was no longer too thin, but now tones and showing real muscle. Her hips were wider, her arms and thighs thicker. A body to fill out such a fine dress. It was a floor length gown, as black as obsidian. It had see-through long sleeves and a modest neckline. Nothing flashy, she didn’t need to draw attention to herself, she just needed to blend in and help silently from the dais. But as she looked at herself, she thought that she looked quite pretty. She always thought she was the most plain of her sister, even now as Fae, but tonight, Y/n would try to wear this dress with confidence and that casual coolness that came so naturally to all the others.

 Eris’ POV

 That beautiful female on the frozen lake haunted him every waking and sleeping hour of Eris’ life. The way she literally took his breath away. If it weren’t for her power actually stealing the air from his lungs, her beauty alone would have stopped him in his tracks. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his many centuries of existence. He could help but laugh when she stormed up to him in the Winter Court wearing little more than pajamas. He shouldn’t have laughed. If the Illyrians thought she was important enough to bring along, he shouldn’t have underestimated her. He saw her face every time he closed his eyes. Her y/e/c orbs staring straight into his soul. It ratted him, which not much did anymore.

Eris hated Hewn City and he hated Keir. He was so tired of playing these court games and scheming behind the scenes. He knew Rhys liked to make an entrance, but he was growing bored and restless. Until he saw her. She was just as beautiful as the first time he saw her, but now, dressed in a night court black gown, she didn’t glow like she did when she was comfortable in her chestnut brown pants and a forest green sweater. Who is she?

Y/n’s POV

Stood atop the dais behind the single throne that Feyre and Rhys shared, Y/n scanned the room. Doing her best to keep her face carefully neutral, she stood there while Rhys addressed the court introduced Feyre as their High Lady, and coolly demanded that they kneel. After a long pause, the whole room on their knees before them, he released them to enjoy the festivities.

A man with blonde hair, that Y/n identified as Keir, Mor’s father only by blood, approached the dais. Then, the last person she expected to see approached as well. The male from the lake, with the glowing amber eyes and hair that reminded her of a maple trees falling red leaves. She swore her heart stopped beating when he made eye contact with her as he bowed. Not to Rhys or Feyre, but to her.

“Keir. Eris. So kind of you to join us. But don’t be so eager to get our meeting over with, go enjoy the evening. Azriel’s shadows will find you when we’re ready.” Rhys slid his bored gaze over each male and waved a hand in dismissal.

Eris. That was his name. Eris Eris Eris. The name clanged around her brain, and she had to choke back the desire to know how it felt on her tongue. She knew his name now and it made falling asleep to picturing his face feel like she was violating him in some way. She knew she shouldn’t have been thinking about him in the first place. He tried to kill her sister, or bring her back to his father who was a known tyrant and took brutality to another level. She should definitely not be thinking about him. But there he was. And gods damn he was even more devastating than she remembered. For starters, he wasn’t covered in blood, and she wasn’t choking the daylights out of him. But more than that, he had this air about him. He exuded a confidence that was purely Fae male and came from centuries of a life lived. Then she remembered the way that fire had danced from his fingertips. He could wield flame like an extension of his own body. It was beautiful. Y/n once again had to reprimand herself, because those same beautiful flames coming from his long, calloused fingers, were causing harm and pain to her own sister. That light and radiance that fire had was diminished in the context of it’s use. How dare he make Y/n fear something she loved so dearly? How dare her use fire, which is the root of all life, use it to hurt and destroy?

Y/n was snapped out of her daydreaming by the sound of someone clearing their throat. She realized Eris had not broken eye contact with her and was now starring at her expectantly. With no small amount of embarrassment, she realized she was probably just standing here gazing into his eyes while her whole family stood there and watched. He cheeks heated and Eris’ smirk grew.

“I asked you for a dance, lady…?”

“Y/n, you do not have to dance with him. Honestly, you don’t even have to talk to him.” Rhys said.

“Y/n...” She hated how much she liked her name falling from his lips. “Just once dance, Lady Y/n, and I’ll share what I know of the Spring Court in our meeting this evening.” Still smirking, he held out a hand.

“Fine.” Y/n unceremoniously slapped her hand into his. Just because she was practically vibrating with anticipation of being so close to the male, didn’t mean he needed to know that. And neither did her family. For all anyone else knew, she hated Eris as much as they all did. She certainly should if she knew what was good for her. Gods, what was wrong with her!?

That smirk turned into a cocky grin as Eris led Y/n to the dance floor. He tugged on her hand still held in his and pulled her close to his body. Not pressing against her, but close enough that she could feel the heat coming off his body. He was unnaturally hot being a fire wielder, but Y/n never minded the heat. Even found herself having to hold back from pressing every inch of her against the warmth. He stood close to a foot taller than her, and she had to tilt her head up to lock eyes with him. She was met with amber eyes dancing with amusement, and he was met with a cold hard glare.

Eris blew out a soft laugh and asked, “why, little dove, do you hate me so much? We don’t even know each other yet.”

Y/n tried not to linger on the ‘yet’ as she leveled him an incredulous glare. “You mean aside from the fact that you chased my sister across a frozen lake, blasting fire at her and then restrained her with said fire?”

He had the audacity to laugh again. “Yes, Y/n, aside from that. I would very much like to know you. You hating me makes that slightly difficult.”

Gods that smirk. Y/n was trying to think straight as he floated her around the dance floor like it was nothing. She hoped he didn’t realize she was using her magic to keep herself from tripping over her own feet or stepping on his. He was such a beautiful dancer. And the truth was, she wanted to know him too. But instead she said, “you use your gift of fire to hurt others. You use that delicate flame to inflict pain and fear.” She desperately hoped her voice was staying steady, but then he scoffed at her and the leash she had on her temper slipped from her fingers. She feels her voice raising and her cheeks heating as she goes on. “Fire is not meant to cause pain, Eris!”

He halts their movement. That was enough to make her blink and remember where they were. Her eyes and her voice soften as she tries to look straight into his soul and speak directly to it. Her hands drift to hold both of his in her much smaller ones. “Fire is beautiful and lovely and soft and warm. Fire is nurturing and breathes life into everything. Fire is a gentle protector and a kind companion. I am so sorry someone told you otherwise and that you’ve been told to use it as a weapon.” He just blinked at her for what felt like an eternity. Suddenly the music stops, and the room erupts into applause for the musicians. “Eris…?” Y/n sys his name as gently as she can, but he pulled away from her so fast and muttered an ‘excuse me’ before he turned on his heels and practically ran out of the ball room.

Y/n stands there until someone accidently bumps into her and jolts her out of her head and back into her body. Slowly, she makes her way back to the dais staring at her feet, still not totally present. She looks up when she reaches her family only to see them all with a hand over their mouth to choke back a laugh. “What?” Y/n’s brow scrunches and she tilts her head in confusion.

Cassian is the first to break, laughing so loud a few partygoers jump and glasses shatter. The next is Mor, and finally, Feyre asks through tears in her eyes and a barely concealed giggle, “What the hell did you say to him!?”

Y/n just took her spot on the dais next to Feyre and Rhys as they laughed and laughed together and resumed staring at the floor trying not to be eager to see Eris at the meeting later this evening.

Eris’ POV

He had to get out of there. Had to get out of that room that felt too similar to under the mountain and away from that female who was far too gentle and kind to be anywhere near him. ‘The Mother must really hate me’ he thinks as he reaches the city’s edge and can finally breathe again. He knew the shadowsinger would find him soon and call for the meeting, but before then he needed to regain his composure. Y/n didn’t need to use her power to stop his breathing and make his heart race.

He took a few deep breaths and the shaking in his hands and the ache in his chest eased slightly. His mind drifted to the feeling of her in his arms, how well they danced across the floor together and how lovely her hands felt pressed to his chest. ‘Fire is not meant to cause pain’ Y/n had said. The words had come from her mouth with such passion and determination that he almost believed her. He wanted to. Gods did he want to believe her and her kind words and her cold calloused hands that soothed his burning skin. There was no way for Y/n to have known his father had struck him across the chest just this morning. A show of power after his father bested him during sparring. The punishment for winning would have been far more gruesome. Y/n’s cold unassuming hand placed directly over where his father’s had left the flesh raw and painful. Her lovely hand placed there while she looked him in the eyes and told him that fire wasn’t meant to cause pain and that she was sorry. He couldn’t believe she was real, and his need to know her just grew tenfold. But he wasn’t good enough for her. He wasn’t good. He should keep his distance and save her the misery of his company again.

Eris was dreading the mask he would dawn in this meeting and the monster she would think of him as afterward. A shadow wrapped around his wrist and tugged. It was time. Eris schooled his features into the calm, bored, arrogant heir, winnowed back into the halls of the palace, and sauntered his way into the meeting.

Y/n’s POV

The meeting was nothing of what Y/n expected. Eris came in, and straight up avoided eye contact with her. She couldn’t lie, that stung a bit.

He sat across from Rhys, but looked to Mor with a knowing glint in his eye and said, “you look well, Mor.”

“You don’t speak to her,” Azriel said softly.

Eris gave a bitter smile. “I see you’re still holding a grudge.”

Y/n was so confused.

“This arrangement, Eris,” Rhys spoke, “relies solely upon you keeping your mouth shut.”

Eris huffed a laugh. “And haven’t I done an excellent job? Not even my father suspected when I left tonight.”

Feyre glanced between her mate and Eris. “How did this come about?”

Apparently, Feyre was just as lost as you were.

Eris explains that he caught Azriel’s shadows snooping around the Autumn court after they returned from the frozen lake, and that his brothers ‘mysteriously’ forgot about Feyre’s powers. He said that he had taught himself a few things about daemati powers and how to block them out. He says that he didn’t tell his father because he knew that Baron would want to hunt Feyre down and kill her for his belief that she stole part of his power. He doesn’t believe that Baron knows just how much of a threat Hybern is, but that he wont join forces with them if he finds out about Feyre’s powers.

“So what’s the asking price for you silence then, Eris?” Mor demanded. “Another little bride for you to torture?”

All the blood drained from Y/n’s face as her eyes darted between Mor and Eris. Her head hurt from trying to put this puzzle together without having all the pieces. She knew that Mor’s father had tried to marry her off and Mor took control of her own fate by sleeping with Cassian, but she hadn’t known the male she was sold off to was supposed to be Eris. The pounding in her head did not cease.

Something flickered in Eris’ eyes. “I don’t know who fed you those lies to begin with, Morrigan,” he said with vicious calm. “Likely the bastards you surround yourself with.”

A sneer from Azriel. And a sharp intake of breath from Y/n. If he had looked at her she would have seen the brief flash of guilt in his eyes.

Mor snarled, rattling the glasses. “You never gave any evidence to the contrary. Certainly not when you left me in those woods.”

“There were forces at work that you have never considered,” Eris said coldly. “And I am not going to waste my breath explaining them to you. Believe what you want about me.”

“You hunted me like an animal,” Feyre cut in. “I think we will choose to believe the worst.”

Y/n didn’t know how to feel. Couldn’t think of anything to say or do, so she just dropped her gaze to the floor. She shouldn’t come to Eris’ defense. She just met the male and apparently her gut feeling about him was wrong. Her family hated him and he hurt Mor. Something didn’t feel right, but what would she even say? There were literal centuries of bad blood between her found family and this male who for some gods forsaken reason, she couldn’t stop thinking about. This arrogant, spiteful, male who attacked her sister! Not just Feyre it seems, but Mor as well. Even if he didn’t have direct hand in harming her, he didn’t help her. Why didn’t he help her? Her head was still spinning trying to sort through all these conflicting feelings. She felt like she needed to come to Eris’ defense, but why? Maybe because she felt deep down in her soul that no one ever had. She could feel that he was good, so why were his actions such the opposite? The pounding in her head wouldn’t stop and she felt as if she might faint. The conversation starting to sound like they were underwater.

“I was given and order. And sent to do it with two of my…brothers.”

“And what of the brother you hunted down alongside me? The one whose lover you helped to execute before his eyes?” Feyre accused.

Eris slammed a hand on the table, which did nothing to help Y/n headache. No one seemed to notice her flinch and start to sway. “You know nothing about what happened that day. Nothing.”

“Indulge me,” was all Feyre said in response.

“How do you think he made it to the Spring border,” Eris’ voice had returned to its normal low and sharp nature. “I wasn’t there- when they did it. Ask him. I refused. It was the firs and only time I have denied my father anything. He punished me. And by the time I got free… They were going to kill him too. I made sure they didn’t. Made sure Tamlin got word- anonymously- to get the hell over to his own border.” Eris picked at a stray thread on his jacket, “not all of us were as lucky in our friends and family as you, Rhysand.”

Sharp, stabbing, shooting pain ran through Y/n’s head and it was so surprising that she let out a yelp as she dropped to the floor, and everything went black. The last thing she remembered hearing was the voice of Eris’ panicked voice crying her name.

Taglist: @abysshaven @myromanempiree @lilah-asteria @96jnie @ivy-34 @minaethrym

[strawglicks]

Misty isn't selfish for wanting friendship with toons.

Misty is selfish for her lack of consideration of toons, their feelings, their perspective. She only focuses on herself and how she has been hurt.

She feels hurt by Bessie's actions, claiming "there was no reason" for her to do such a thing. But toons and cogs are at WAR. Bessie didn't see Misty, she saw a COG approaching her and retaliated. She did not see them as an individual, she saw them as the enemy that's been terrorizing and colonizing their land. And rightfully so.

That being said, Misty did not have ill intentions approaching Bessie. Because of this, they feel hurt that she responded in such a violent way. Misty can feel hurt, but they need to understand why toons feel the way they do towards cogs. They are at WAR. And Misty just doesn't seem to realize that.

She feels entitled to play with toons and garner sympathy from them despite their ongoing battle against the cogs.

It's all about "you still tried to hurt me" and "i've done nothing wrong". Misty truly believes she is the victim and thinks she's entitled to sympathy from toons. But she's not.

Misty genuinely wants friendship with toons, which is why she feels so hurt when they reject her, even if they are right in doing so. Much of her dialogue implies she really is oblivious to the gravity of this war and why the toons, obviously, don't want to engage with her:

Misty may want to befriend toons with no bad intentions, but that doesn't erase what the cogs are doing to the toons' land. And the toons are still justified in fighting Misty. She is a cog at the end of the day.

Misty is so focused on her own, personal pain that she is completely disregarding that a WAR is going on. She disregards what the toons endure due to Cogs Inc. and thinks, just because she doesn't personally hate toons, that they owe her friendship.

I think Misty is probably the main reason for the fandom's villainization of toons and woobification of the cogs. But it's not the fault of how she's written, it's the fault of people who feel bad for a character and suddenly think all their morals have to align with that character. Now, they all have to adapt to Misty's way of thinking: that she is an innocent victim who has done nothing and doesn't deserve any of the treatment she's gotten from toons, and that toons are just evil monsters who attack her for no reason.

THIS COULD NOT BE FURTHER FROM THE TRUTH.

You can enjoy a character, like Misty, and feel bad for her. It's obvious there is some real suffering happening here, but it does not justify her view or lack of consideration for others. They are so focused on their own pain that they never think of others. They are so focused on being the victim that no one else can be a victim.

This line of thinking is so flawed, and when a big chunk of fandom REPEATS it, it leads to wild mischaracterization and woobification of. colonizers.

You can like characters who are bad people and disagree with their actions. Misty is not a good person. I think they are suffering, they are hurting, but that cannot be the end of the story. There are others, like the toons, who are suffering and hurting as well. And that should not be erased for the sake of your blorbo. You can still love Misty while condemning her way of thinking. I do myself.

There's the opposite end as well, where people acknowledge this character is not a good person but suddenly think they have to hate the character as a whole because they are morally bad.

Misty Monsoon is very flawed as a person and suffering from her own victim mentality, which hurts others as well. But I love this character. They're fucked up and just want a friend, but they're going to need to be more considerate and aware of their own poor actions if they want to earn that friendship and respect from others. Give and take.

[thatfeelinwhenyou]

KINDRED — 33

It’s your final year of highschool, and your only goal is to graduate top of your cohort, as usual. Except as student council president, your advisor can’t seem to leave you alone. What happens when you take Decelis Academy’s top student, their star athlete and put them in front of a camera?

smau + written (5.1k words 💀)

❥･• episode 33 — the bane of my existence

The ceiling of your room is adorned with handwritten notes of keywords you were supposed to memorise for your mid-terms. The notes are large enough for you to easily read them, especially as you lie flat on your back on the bed, as you are now. Throughout the term, you had gradually covered the ceiling with these notes, dedicating the last two weeks before the exam to repeating them over and over again in your head as you drifted off to sleep.

Despite the exams being over, you have yet to take them down to be replaced by new notes you’d be curating for the new term. With nothing but time, you find yourself spending hours staring at the section dedicated to your English Literature notes, wondering why you never noticed it. You can't help but reflect on the 30 minutes before bed that you could have spent memorising the highlighted words. Perhaps then, you wouldn't have fumbled so hard in the vocabulary section, and you wouldn't be in your current predicament—separated from your friends, from Jungwon, forced to skip your own farewell party, and school itself.

You never expected your mother to willingly let you stay home, especially during your final semester at Decelis Academy. You thought she'd prefer you practically living in school. On what grounds did she choose to ground you? Because you ended up second on the scoreboard? That’s bullshit.

As a matter of fact, it seems counterintuitive for her to keep you at home for self-study as a disciplinary action. The situation is baffling to you—as a senior in high school with less than three months left until finals, it doesn't make sense that you're wasting time at home instead of being in school.

In truth, your mother is perplexed, even a bit terrified. But what exactly is she terrified of?

Change, that’s what.

Changes that manifested after Jungwon came into your life. How, instead of returning home late from the library after a long revision session, you now return late after spending the entire day with him. He’s a constant presence; waiting at your gateway, observing as you consciously stroll down the gravel to your doorstep, turning back to thank him for walking you home and bidding him goodbye.

Moreover, you divert your attention from your own studies, putting in extra effort to tutor him so he could compete in his upcoming competition. Instead of sharing the events of your day with your mother, you find yourself engrossed in texting him at the dinner table—something you’ve never dared to do before. She would nag at you over the smallest details, and you no longer quietly listen even if you are in the right, but rather engage by talking back, defending, or justifying yourself.

As a consequence, you've shifted from being at the top of the pyramid to now occupying the second position, trailing behind a library secretary. Yet, it seems like these changes haven't affected you in the slightest.

It feels as though you are finally managing to form your own opinions and make your own decisions. It's as if you no longer need her.

These changes, this departure from the routine she had come to expect, terrifies your mother. The fear of losing the daughter she thought she knew, the fear of a new chapter that doesn’t align with the plans she had envisioned, leaves her bewildered and uneasy.

When she looks at you, she sees a reflection of herself from years ago when she was a student. She recalls the time she met your father, fell in love, and sacrificed her dreams to follow his path and have you, only for him to later abandon both of you to pursue his own endeavours.

So, the mere thought of you, broken and lonely after what she assumes will be Jungwon eventually leaving you, intensifies her hatred for him. The déjà vu becomes too real, and she firmly believes she's doing what's best for you, even if you end up resenting her for it.

At some point, you started living your life for your mother rather than yourself, and you're aware of this subconsciously—the paradox of being both the subject and object in her pursuit of validation. Even then, it’s hard to let go of everything you once believed in altogether.

No, rather, you want to believe it's true. You want to believe your mother is right, and the status quo she has set for you is genuinely for the best:

Your goal is to enter an elite local university.

You aspire to be a doctor.

Mother is not controlling.

You don't need a man to validate your worth.

Which seem rather ironic as you contemplate how, essentially, you are a pawn in your mother’s subconscious quest to prove your father wrong about her. Her motives, however well-intentioned, have inadvertently moulded your path.

It's a narrative in which she’s determined to show that even in his absence, your mother is fully capable of nurturing a child, specifically her child. The belief embedded in her actions is that one day, you will emerge successful, surpassing what she might have achieved had she chosen to pursue her own dreams back then. This belief, however, unravels into a conundrum because, if your mother could turn back time and choose a different path, you wouldn’t be here.

As these thoughts weigh heavily on your mind, you find yourself truly overthinking it. You sit up on the bed, your body leaning against the frame, and your surroundings seem to echo with the gravity of your contemplation.

It's barely past 10 in the morning, and you can't help but wonder about the mundane yet comforting routines of your friends. Beomgyu is probably relieved that Chemistry is over, recalling him perpetually complaining about having the subject for their first period. Chanelle and Yunjin are likely engaged in their usual ritual of placing bets on the lunch menu. Gyuvin is probably sleeping again, and Riki is likely disturbing some poor kid by launching staple bullets from the back of the room.

And then there's Jungwon, perhaps experiencing a quiet sense of relief at your absence, no longer subjected to reminders to pay attention or being shaken awake just as he teeters on the edge of drifting off into dreamland. The vivid details of their potential activities form a contrast to the complex musings clouding your thoughts.

The room, once a sanctuary, now bears the weight of aching tensions. With a sigh, you rise from your bed, a restless energy propelling you forward. Just then, you hear a slight knock against your window.

Wait, your room is on the second floor; what could be banging against it?

Tok. There it is again. The sound echoes throughout your room. You approach the window ledge with apprehension, visibly flinching as a small rock flies towards you, knocking against the glass that separates you from the tiny projectile.

Determined to catch who is disturbing your peace on this calm Friday morning, you march up to your window frame, planning to give whoever it is a piece of your mind. Your gaze follows the direction from where the stone came, and to your surprise, you see Jungwon excitedly waving towards you from behind the giant tree in your front yard.

As you open the window, the sounds and sights of the outside world flood in. The pre-winter morning sun casts a warm glow on the scene, highlighting the details of the landscape outside. The gentle rustle of leaves, distant chirping of birds, and the distant hum of the town come together in a natural symphony of morning sounds. The tranquil scene outside your room stands in opposition to the turmoil within, amplifying the surreal nature of the moment. It's really him.

"Hey! Sorry for the wake-up call. Come on down; I wanna bring you somewhere.” Jungwon’s voice rises above the ambient noise.

“What are you doing here?! Aren’t you supposed to be in school right now?” You attempt to raise your voice just enough, afraid that your mother would overhear.

“I was, until I realised how boring it is without you nagging at me every five seconds. So, I thought I'd bring a little adventure to your day.” The spontaneity of the gesture catches you off guard, momentarily eclipsing the complexities of your internal monologues.

Being deprived of any form of human interaction left you craving, and for a second, you almost accept his proposal without thinking.

“I can’t leave, Won. I’m grounded; my mom is going to kill me if she finds out.”

"Then we'll make sure she doesn't. You'll be back before you even know it, Y/N." The idea is tempting, yes, but you are also unsure if you are ready to face the consequences if, for some reason, things do not go the way you want them to (as always).

"I skipped class for this. I think it shows how much I really miss spending time with you, Y/N."

"As if you never skipped class before we started filming for the documentary." Jungwon sheepishly smiles and subconsciously rubs the back of his neck. The memories of those carefree days filming the documentary flood back, adding a nostalgic touch to the present moment.

You were about to decline for the second time when he skilfully pulls out those cat eyes that you dearly admired. Those captivating eyes that Jungwon knows you can never say "no" to. It's the only efficient method he remembers using to convince you to watch a movie with him everytime he wanted to get out of your long study sessions.

And he's right; those cat eyes works like a damn charm. Because you are now desperately climbing out your window, clinging for dear life against the rusty pipes. As you navigate the unconventional escape route, Jungwon tries hard to suppress his laughter, not wanting to discourage you.

As your feet touch the ground, you become acutely aware of the brisk chill in the air, a stark contrast to the period spent locked up in your makeshift jail cell. Only when you stand before the boy do you fully realise how cold the weather has gotten since the last time you saw him. And unlike Jungwon, who is covered from head to toe, you find yourself in just trousers and an oversized t-shirt.

Promptly, he detects the tiny hairs on your arms standing, and without a moment's hesitation, Jungwon removes his padded jacket, swirling it around your shoulders, instantly enveloping you in warmth.

But It's not just the jacket; it's the proximity of Jungwon that warms you up, his closeness palpable as he adjusts the padding to sit perfectly on the blades of your shoulders. You can practically feel his breath on your neck as he fusses with the collar.

As he fidgets with the article of clothing, Jungwon's actions appear purposeful, yet in reality, he is merely using it as an excuse to draw even closer to you. But he’s not the only one taking advantage of the moment, though, as you seize the opportunity to embrace him. Your arms winding around his waist beneath his uniform blazer and you softly whisper a grateful "Thank you," eliciting a subtle shiver that courses down his spine.

"For what? I’m only lending it to you, you already have a few of my hoodies stocked up. Which reminds me, when are you returning them?" You pinch his sides playfully, and he flinches, the playful exchange bringing the two of you even closer. As if there were any more space between you in the first place.

“I’ll return them back to you, soon. But that’s not what I was referring to.”

“Then, you’re grateful for… making you climb down some rusty-ass pipes?”

"No, you idiot. Thank you for coming to see me. I missed you, really, more than you think. You have no idea how close I was to just running over to you.” The emotions from having the opportunities to spend time with the boy ripped away from you must have been stronger than you thought for those words to come out of you like that. Jungwon senses this, and you feel him tighten around the frame of your body.

"Then, it’s a good thing that I ran over here first.”Jungwon gently pushes you away with a heavy heart. Moving away the few strands of hair stuck onto your cheeks that are turning a shade of rosy pink, most likely from the cold (or not).

The pace picks up again as he locates the palm of your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours,“Let's get out of here before your mom finds us." Luckily for the two of you, you manage to get away with your secret rendezvous, at least for now, and you can only pray that it stays this way.

The world beyond your little bubble beckons, but in this moment, the connection between you and Jungwon feels like the only reality that matters.

Time with Jungwon feels like a pocket universe where seconds slip away unnoticed. Before you know it, the sun slowly begins to dip beyond the horizon, ushering in the cool embrace of the evening air and casting a gentle twilight glow upon the buildings.

The Friday night air is crisp, and the streets come alive with the vibrant energy of the neighbourhood transitioning into its nocturnal rhythm. Jungwon confidently navigates through hidden shortcuts and familiar alleys, the lively sounds of people and distant music replacing the lingering heaviness from your room.

As you walk leisurely through the dimly lit streets, Jungwon animatedly shares anecdotes, laughter, and stories of incidents that unfolded in school during your absence. The glow of street lamps casts a warm ambiance, highlighting the joy in his eyes as he recounts the tales. You are not only relieved to hear that your friends are working hard, but also reassured that the council is thriving under Gunwook's leadership—a responsibility you earnestly insisted on passing down to him.

Eventually, you find yourselves at a serene bench overlooking the river. In the distance, you spot couples on little boats doing whatever couples do on little boats. The two of you sit in a contemplative silence, not awkward, but a kind of loud silence filled with unspoken words—where there is so much to say, but neither of you knows where to start.

Breaking the quietude, Jungwon eagerly rummages through his bag. Curious, you sneak a peek, and a soft giggle escapes your lips at the unconventional contents within. Instead of the expected textbooks, you see a stash of your favourite gummies and an abundance of pencils, which explains why he always has spares on hand whenever you ask for one.

You also spot your fall gloves that you had momentarily forgotten about until now. You recall leaving them with him when it got too uncomfortable for you to wear, and the memory of him playfully nagging you to put them back on, complete with a cute pout when you refused, brings a fond smile to your face.

It’s a touching realisation when you see these tangible tokens. It’s as if little bits and pieces of you and your habits are slowly finding a place in Jungwon’s life. His world, once dominated by Taekwondo, effortlessly accommodates you and the fragments of your existence, just as he seamlessly wove himself into the fabric of your life, which was once burdened with the heavy expectations of achieving stellar grades.

“People might think this is my bag that you’re carrying,” you remark, your tone playful.

"With the amount of things that are yours in here, it might as well be," Jungwon replies, laughter dancing in his warm gaze. He pulls out a hot pack, rubs it between his hands, and extends it to you—another subtle gesture that unleashes an entire zoo inside your stomach. The gentle warmth of the hot pack mirrors the blossoming warmth within as you mumble a quiet “Thank you”.

"Can't believe we'll be graduating soon; it still hasn't hit me just yet," Jungwon says, his voice carrying a tinge of absentminded reflection.

"Believe it or not, sooner or later, reality will come crashing down on you like a meteorite," you jest, attempting to lighten the sudden solemnity of the mood that has settled between you.

"Yeah, then you'll be off to a great local uni, and I'll probably get into the youth Olympics team. Who knows when our paths will cross again?" You turn to look at him, finding his gaze locked onto the calm waters of the river, though you suspect his mind must be anything but calm, straying far from the placid surface of the water.

"I thought we agreed to remain close even after the documentary? You're speaking as if we'll never see each other again," you remark, shuffling closer to him on the bench. The fluttering of your heart intensifies as the skin of your arms comes into contact with his. The connection between you, both physical and emotional, echoes the desire to linger in each other's presence despite the uncertain paths that lie ahead.

"At first, it really was a nightmare having to be around you everywhere," he confesses, leaning forward, his fingers lightly gripping the edge of the bench as he reflects. A tiny pout forms on his thinking face, and you can't help but coo at the endearing sight—a habit you discovered and cherished as you got to know him.

"I don't know if I should be finding that offensive or not," you retort and Jungwon laughs lowly, the husky tone of his voice sending subtle shivers down the back of your neck. "That's why I used 'at first,' idiot."

"But now, I guess it's not that bad to have you around sometimes," he shrugs, attempting to play it cool while ignoring the fact that his heart is pounding relentlessly against his chest.

"Only 'not that bad'? I'm disappointed," you tease, a mischievous sparkle in your eye.

The night envelops both of you in a quiet embrace, the air thick with unexpressed emotions. Jungwon's eyes, once fixed on the distant river, now meet yours. Only this time, there's a vulnerability in his gaze, a silent admission of something more complicated.

"You know," he begins, his voice softer now, carrying a weight of sincerity, "it took me a while to figure out why your presence felt like a storm at first—chaotic and unpredictable. But now, I realise it's more like the calm after the storm. The kind that leaves everything refreshed and new."

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the gravity of his confession sinking in. The atmosphere seems to hold its breath, each passing moment brimming with anticipation as you almost impatiently wait for him to phrase his next words, watching the thoughts flicker across his face as he carefully composed the sentiments in his mind.

"I never expected you to become this important to me," Jungwon continues, his eyes reflecting a mixture of emotions. "But now, imagining my life without you feels like trying to picture a world without sunlight. It's just not the same."

A warm breeze rustles the leaves above, and if there were some stranger watching you right now, you probably wouldn’t even have noticed as you slowly tuned the world around you out. On the contrary, you're acutely aware of the shared space between you on the bench, the closeness that has become second nature.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is... I like having you around. A lot more than 'not that bad,'" he confesses, a shy smile playing on his lips.

Your heart swells with a rush of emotions, and you sense the urgency to respond. "Jungwon, I—" But before you can complete your response, his fingers gently find their way to yours, intertwining them in a silent gesture, as if he's saying you don't owe him anything.

But no, you do owe him everything. You owe him for coming into your mundane excuse of a life and allowing you to realise that sometimes, breaking away from routine is the first step towards discovering your own narrative.

Thus, a smile mirrors his on your face as you say, “I can’t let you say all the cool things yourself. I wanna be cool too.” Jungwon scoffs and you feel his grip on your hand tighten.

"Go on, I'd like to see you try," he challenges, a subtle glint of encouragement in his gaze, knowing you're not one to shy away.

Taking in a deep breath, you confidently look into his eyes as you say what has been on your mind. “Thank you for changing my life, and I don’t ever want to lose you, Yang Jungwon.”

As the echoes of your confession linger in the night air, both of you become aware of the tangible shift in the atmosphere—something profound has unfolded between you. The moonlight paints a soft glow on Jungwon's face, emphasising the earnestness in his eyes, as they remain locked onto yours. The touch of his fingers on yours warms up your skin, a comforting sensation that surpasses any heat pack he could ever give you.

“Okay maybe that wasn’t very cool after all… I just never thought a simple change in routine could lead to all this." You muse, your voice carrying a mixture of awe and gratitude.

"Life has a funny way of surprising us, doesn't it?" Jungwon responds with a playful twinkle in his eyes.

You nod, smiling genuinely. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

As you sit on the bench, hands still entwined, there's a gentle pause—a moment suspended in time, as if the universe itself is waiting. The world around you, once ordinary, now feels touched by a magical essence, and the stars above seem to glitter with the promise of a future written in a language only both of you understand.

Jungwon leans in, and you can feel the beating of his heart aligning with yours, the soft warmth of his breath as he closes the gap between you. The scent of the night air, infused with a hint of his cologne, adds to the sensory symphony. His lips meet yours in a tender, unhurried motion. It’s a kiss that carries the weight of the world’s expectations on the both of you, only for it to melt away as he smiles against your lips.

Time seems to stand still as you savour the softness of the moment, the warmth of his touch resonating through every fibre of your being. As you sit there, wrapped in the warmth of his lips on yours, the world feels limitless, and the journey ahead, uncertain but exciting. And as you break apart, breathless but filled with an exhilarating warmth, that’s when you realise you have finally come to terms with and chosen to accept your emotions that are now clear to you that it is not borne alone—Yang Jungwon, who was once the bane of your existence, is now the centre of it.

tw! depiction of violence

You smile to yourself as the sweet memory of that magical first kiss plays in your mind like a cherished melody. Your hands remain interlocked with that of Jungwon’s as you walk through the same alley that you came from. The difference being the absence of the vibrant lights of the night market, which had already faded by now, leaving only the soft glow of the moon and the distant street lamps that barely bleed into the alley to guide your way. Yet, you feel safe and protected when you sense Jungwon’s presence beside you.

As you turn a corner, the alley widens, revealing a quieter stretch with fewer distractions. However, just as you start to relax, a familiar voice cuts through the tranquillity.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Y/N. Didn't think we'd run into you two lovebirds tonight. How cute.” Hana's voice, laced with envy, echoes through the alley. She steps into view, flanked by her two loyal lackeys who wear matching smirks.

However, they were not alone as you spot a few familiar faces perched up against the brick wall—they were the same group of boys known to wreak havoc among the underclassmen. You know this having seen their faces in detention multiple times when you were supervising.

You didn’t expect Hana to be hanging around them, it’s like trouble mixing around with even more trouble, a recipe for disaster.

In the dimly lit alley, tension hangs thick in the air as Hana and her lackeys close in, their predatory grins revealing a hunger for confrontation. Jungwon instinctively tightens his grip on your hand, pulling you behind him as he stands his ground, a subtle signal that he's prepared for whatever comes next.

Hana takes a step forward, her voice dripping with malice. “It’s unfortunate really. You skipped a whole week of school; I thought I finally managed to get rid of you, but alas.” Her lackeys snicker, emboldened by their leader's confidence.

You square your shoulders, determined not to let Hana's provocation rattle you. “What’s your problem, Hana?”

Hana's eyes narrow, her jealousy fuelling the fire. "My problem? It's you, Y/N. Always meddling where you don't belong."

In disbelief, you step out of Jungwon’s shadow. “You know what, fuck you. I don’t even remember ever offending you. I also had a really shitty week, and I don’t need you making it worse than it already is, so please just get the fuck out of my face.” The words fly out of your mouth before you can even comprehend, and Jungwon seems to be equally shocked, hearing you curse for the first time. The shock quickly turns into admiration as he smirks at your bold proclamation.

"We're not looking for trouble, Hana. Just let us pass," Jungwon says cautiously, not wanting to provoke Hana any further, but it only seems to rile her up even more.

Hana's frustration mounts, and she takes a step closer to you, invading your personal space. "You think you're so special, Y/N? Jungwon can do so much better than someone like you." The words sting, but you refuse to let her get under your skin. Before you can respond, one of her lackeys makes a move, attempting to grab your arm. Instinctively, Jungwon steps between you and the aggressor, blocking the advance.

Despite their attempts to provoke a reaction, Jungwon remains composed, his experience evidently shining through. The underclassmen, however, aren't as restrained. One of them lunges at Jungwon, but he swiftly sidesteps the attack, using his fast reflexes to evade without retaliating.

However, the group, instigated by their leader's resentment, launch a coordinated attack. One of them goes straight for Jungwon, aiming for his lower abdomen. Despite his fast reflexes, the underclassman manages to land a blow, catching Jungwon off guard.

A sharp pain courses through Jungwon's side as he winces, the surprise attack taking its toll. He stumbles backward, trying to maintain his composure. The underclassmen, emboldened by their success, taunts him. "Looks like your taekwondo skills don't mean much in a real fight, huh?"

You, torn between defending Jungwon and avoiding further escalation, plead with Hana. "This is unnecessary, Hana! We don't want to fight!"

Hana, however, revels in the chaos she's created. This is her way of saying that if she can’t have Jungwon, nobody can—much less lose him to the likes of you.

"You should have thought about that before getting involved with Jungwon." In truth, she never truly liked Jungwon. Just his reputation and the attention she’d get if she managed to crack the academy’s most mysterious boy. Enraged, Hana signals them to continue, escalating the confrontation.

Jungwon, though injured, refuses to retaliate recklessly; something about physical fighting one against a whole group of well-fit boys with a sport designed for self-defense doesn’t seem very smart. Instead, he focuses on defending their attacks, hands wrapped tightly over his head, as he lay cradled on the ground. His determination remains unwavering, but the odds are stacked against him.

The underclassmen, seemingly relentless, taunt Jungwon with malicious glee. "Thought you were tough, huh? Looks like you're nothing even with your precious taekwondo skills."

He shouts for you to run (as if you were about to leave him behind) but you’re forced onto your knees and held in place by her two lackeys. As the scuffle intensifies, the alley echoes with grunts and the shuffle of feet.

The chaos attracts attention, and the distant wail of approaching police sirens grows louder. The approaching alarm prompts Hana and her lackeys to scatter, disappearing into the shadows, leaving behind a battered, bruised and disoriented Jungwon.

As the police car arrives, its flashing lights casting an unsettling glow, you find yourself cradling Jungwon, who is visibly struggling.

“Please tell me you’re okay, Won.” Urgently, you call for an ambulance, realising the severity of his injuries when he could barely reply you.

The journey to the hospital is filled with a heavy silence, broken only by the wail of sirens. Jungwon, laid out on the gurney, appears vulnerable under the harsh hospital lights. His eyes meet yours, conveying gratitude and reassurance amidst the pain. As Jungwon is wheeled into a room for further evaluation, you can't help but reflect on the unexpected turn the night has taken—from stolen kisses to the harsh reality of a hospital emergency room, a scenario straight out of a drama.

The hospital transforms into a surreal space where time seems to both stretch and contract, leaving you suspended in uncertainty. Every passing minute feels like an eternity as you anxiously await any updates on Jungwon's condition.

Your friends, Jungwon’s family, and even his coach start to arrive, having informed them about his condition through Jungwon’s phone that you somehow remembered the passcode to from the last time he told you. The reunion with your friends, especially Chanelle, who runs up to engulf you in a hug, brings a fleeting moment of joy. However, the thought of Jungwon lingers, casting a shadow over the otherwise happy encounter.

Finally, a doctor emerges with updates. Jungwon's injuries are serious, though not life-threatening, requires thorough treatment and a period of recovery. Hearing the news, relief washes over you knowing he will receive the care and medicine he needs. However, your relief is short-lived as the reminder of his upcoming competition the following Saturday floods you with renewed stress.

How can he possibly compete in his current condition? The thought of him being covered in bruises, or worse, questioning if he can even participate at all, weighs heavily on your mind.

The national team coach is going to be there, and Jungwon's entire future hinges on him performing well in that godforsaken competition he worked so hard to compete in.

The unfairness of the situation becomes glaringly evident, casting a shadow over the initial relief. The stress that momentarily lifted now returns with even greater intensity, leaving you grappling with the looming uncertainty of Jungwon's athletic future, and maybe even your own.

prev | masterlist | next

♡。·˚˚· ·˚˚·。♡

authors note: feels like i just wrote a kdrama… as usual i cba to proofread so i apologise yall 🥲

perm taglist. @hajimelvr @s00buwu @urmomssneakylink @grayscorner @bubblytaetae @mrchweeee @artstaeh @sleeping-demons @yuviqik @junsflow @blurryriki @bobabunhee

taglist open! @uuzhanggggggg @jayhoonvroom @en-flirt @missingemobeomgyu @jiawji @ocyeanicc @s7noo @asterizee @nwjws @noascats @yunwonie @saturnmooonxx @enhaz1 @jiaant11 @clairecottenheart @i2lain @miumiuoi @zhounauts @hoey2k @neocockthotology @nanuer @yenqa @ahnneyong @chanhee-hee @yanqiiuver @yujmelon @beomsbeanie @sloobydooburmomjungwon @keiisu @jaeyunniesimp @jiamini @jihanniee @lilriswife4life @i-yeseo

*white = cannot tag

[kobitoshiningneedle]

I think the tumblr Ace Attorney fandom has a weird stance on Dahlia Hawthorne. Even more so, on her culpability, to the point that some people claim that she was justified in killing Terry Fawles and even Valerie

First of all, we need to consider the main message of the games first and our personal sense of justice second, because Dahlia, as much as any other AA character, operates within the games' own narrative, and has consequences according to it. And Ace Attorney makes it quite clear that any human life is valuable and no one has a right to take it (illegally). This message was accentuated in TGAA mostly, but even in the trilogy we have Edgeworth who says "everyone deserves a fair trial"

And (I think I need to say before someone throws tomatoes at me) I'm not here to defend Terry Fawles and say that he didn't do anything wrong. He pretty much did, and the fact that he started to date his young pupil is pretty horrible and brow-raising, even if it's unclear who initiated it. It's also possible that Valerie was a neglectful sister, and that Dahlia's whole family was abusive and insufferable to her. The most important thing to understand here is that even if Terry and Valerie were all-round terrible people, killing Valerie and manipulating Fawles made Dahlia a criminal. Objectively.

The second point I see people miss is how disastrous was the collateral damage Dahlia caused in her attempts to cover herself. Poisoning Diego. Killing Doug. Attempting to kill Phoenix. Attempting to kill Maya. And the question is: in what way did any of these people do Dahlia injustice? What is their fault?

They didn't have any. By the time of T&T timeline she was pretty much a person poisoned by her hatred and fear. The main tragedy of her character is that she spiraled down from a mistreated schoolgirl who wanted to run away to a malicious woman who would stoop to crime whenever she needs to. I think this is a solid example of an anti-arc, in which Dahlia's fate was indeed shaped by her unfortunate circumstances in many ways, but! She still had agency in her actions, and having agency means having responsibility

To clarify: I don't hate hate Dahlia, even though my disagreement with the fandom lies in the amount of her hateability. I think she's fascinating and is a good foil to Mia. She pretty much IS a tragic character, and we actually have a good insight into her via Iris' recollections before the final trial segment - the person who probably understood Dahlia the most. Realizing that Dahlia was yet another victim of Fey family drama, much like our Maya (even if in other ways) adds some sympathy points to her. But I have a firm opinion that she wasn't exactly redeemable at the end of her criminal path

So, do I think Dahlia's character goes beyond the crazy-psycho femme fatale? Yes, even if the game wasn't really forthcoming about her childhood misfortunes as much as we would want to. Do I think Dahlia deserved condemnation in the end of BTTT? Yes, and I personally didn't expect Phoenix or Mia to pat her head after being responsible for the deaths of 4 people and (the other important part that adds to her hateability) feeling absolutely no remorse towards people that had nothing to do with her tragedy. Having complexity doesn't necessarily mean Dahlia is secretly better as a person, and understanding why a character became the way they are doesn't mean we should sympathize with or forgive them

[spacerockfloater]

Hi.

It's so disheartening to see how a big chunk of TG turned on Aemond and Alicent and only support Aegon now. I deeply dislike most of the writing decisions this season, but people seem to forget that these decisions didn't harm only Aegon's character, but also Aemond, Alicent and Criston's, I would say even more than Aegon's. Nevertheless, after the last week episode I've seen a lot of TG hate directed towards Alicent and Aemond that reminded me of TB discourse and it's just sad.

I would love to hear your opinion on this. Thanks in advance.

Hello there friend! Thank you so much for sending me this ask!

Sigh. This is such a complicated issue. As a fellow TG supporter said recently in one of my posts, us turning against the Targtowers and hating them was exactly what Ryan Condal wanted.

They accidentally made them too sympathetic and righteous in the first season, so they had to ruin them to remind the public of whom they are supposed to hate. It’s sickening.

Alicent’s whole journey was about understanding that she needs to be more fierce and demanding to help her family survive. The first season ended with her being ruthless and ready to sacrifice everything for her children. But now she has regressed back to herself from the first half of S1, a scared little girl that doesn’t have the guts to do what must be done and loses all hope the moment the first tragedy comes her way.

Aegon’s whole journey was him overcoming his bullying tendencies and genuinely supporting his brother and his family. He may have initiated the pink dread incident but when his mother told him to cut the bullshit and stop acting like his nephews are his friends, he had no problem knocking Jace to the floor during practice. He stood tall when his brother was disabled and refused to name his mother as the one who spread the rumour(!) of Nyra’s children being bastards. He spoke his truth with his whole chest. Years later, the moment Aemond rose to answer to Lucerys’s mockery, he was right beside him, toasting with him and smashing Luc’s head on the table. And finally, when everyone turned on Aemond for taking his revenge, it was Aegon who demanded Aemond remain in his council, because that was his brother, his best sword and he wanted him there, even if their mother could not bare to look at him. Aegon rose to the occasion and was ready to become a better person, he seemed to genuinely want to serve his subjects. He loved nothing more in the world than his son and his death tore him apart. But suddenly, next episode he has forgotten all about it and is back at bullying Aemond again? That’s just none-sense. All that character development for nothing.

I did feel like Aemond burning his brother alive went from 0 to 100 real quick. He already got his lick back when he made a fool of Aegon in front of his own council. Aemond is a calculating person. He would know that talking Aegon out of the way would cause more harm than good.

Their relationship has been destroyed. Every TG member hates the others. Ultimately, I think we just have to accept this is bad writing and let go of the show because yikes.

However, if we want to discuss show canon, we should keep the characters accountable for their actions and unfortunately, I am displeased with all of them except from Criston. I’ll keep supporting Aegon, Aemond and Alicent but I must also criticise them for the things that they do if I want to be fair.

That being said, I can see why Alicent is horrified by Aemond’s actions. I can see why people think Aemond went too damn far. At the same time, I can see that Aemond would never just sit down and accept being abused. Add to that his not so secret desire to be king, and you can see why he wouldn’t think twice about turning his brother to ashes.

All in all, I think that every opinion is justified and that we must wait for the new episode to air (Aemond’s interactions with Aegon and Alicent are essential) for some additional insight on the incident of Rook’s Rest.

[infernalodie]

𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐏𝐭.𝟐 || 𝐀𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐀𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧

"𝘐𝘧 𝘸𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘒𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘥"

Inspo: Jacob Banks - Devil That I Know Sabrina Claudio - Frozen

Pairing: Abby Anderson x Black!Fem!reader

Summary: Trouble in paradise...

Warning: Fluff with angst at the end.

Part One - Finale

Words: 4829

The love you had felt a day ago had been deeply invested in the soil of your mind. Roots interweaved and twisted until they met one solid structure that stood strong and tall. Supplied with nutrients that were needed; love and care.

That was what love stood for and represented. Something strong, unmoving, and beautiful. Yet, in less than 24 hours, Ellie’s actions had been able to break that tree down to a rotting, hollow trunk. The roots able to retract and give supply to another tree had done so. Leaving the remaining ones to stand still as a flame burnt them to a crisp.

She’d done that. She’d managed to bring a firestorm to what was fine and unique and destroy it. A burnt forest left to take what was once beautiful.

You were broken. Sadly, that was a truth you had admitted when Issac had you locked up once more. Left to craft a makeshift bandage from the wound in your leg and just wait. Wishing there was some way you could alleviate the weight in your chest.

Abby hadn’t said anything to you after you gave her the info she needed. Truthfully, you were too exhausted and hurt to care either. All you cared about was sleep and hopefully being allowed to leave this cell soon.

“We shouldn’t have left her as we did.” Dina’s words shook the auburn-haired girl from her empty stare. Turning her head to the other to find her sitting up from the couch, still feeling the sickness from her pregnancy. “Maybe it was a mistake for me to ever tell you how I felt. If it saved me from feeling the weight I do, I would’ve kept everything to myself.”

Ellie chewed on her bottom lip, shaking her head as she replayed those few moments. A large vent pinning your foot and restricting your movements. And when the foul screech of a Clicker sounded, silencing the trio, raising the anxiety in their bodies. It all just happened so fast. You were trapped. If they tried to do anything, they would’ve been dead as well. Then this would’ve all been for nothing, and Ellie couldn’t have that.

But maybe she was just saying that to herself to justify the purpose of her selfish decision. An argument could be made that she felt something for Dina and everything between you two had been fizzling out like water to sugar. But that would also mean her having to admit she led you on because she had. And maybe this was the easiest way for her to non-verbally tell you that things were different now.

“She’s dead, Dina,” Ellie finally spoke, turning her head half-heartedly toward the ill girl. But ever meeting her guilty eyes. “She knew what she was signing up for when she came along.”

Dina pursed her lips, wiping away the tears that slid down her cheeks. “But you aren’t acknowledging the obvious, Ellie,” she pointed out. “She was your girlfriend and you chose me over her. Do you not feel any guilt over that?”

Licking her lips, Ellie reached over and took Dina’s hand. “All I know is that I chose the girl that I love.”

The city streets were quiet. Way too quiet for Abby. There was the occasional conversation with Manny and Mel, but not enough to ease her cautious awareness that they were out in the open and a perfect target for the Seraphites.

Hearing a quiet grumble behind her, she peeked over her shoulder to see you holding your stomach. “Do you want me to carry your pack?” She inquired, surprising herself with how soft the question was.

But you raised your hand, exhaling heavily. “If we get in a firefight, I need you to shoot. The pack helps keep me planted when I’m firing,” you pointed out, able to spare a faint smile toward the girl. “But a shot of Vodka might be good right now.”

Abby smiled, placing a large hand on your lower back as the both of you moved up the steps of the old warehouse that stored a boat. “When we get to the F.O.B., I’ll be sure to get you that shot.”

It’d been some time since you were locked in that cage. Since you had to piss in a bucket or eat food off the dirty floor. But since then, your intelligence of Ellie and Dina had convinced Issac to task you with Abby for patrols or any deployments. And it wasn’t like you saw any choice in the matter. You couldn’t be banking on some sort of hope that someone would storm the stadium, kill everyone and save you. It was unrealistic. So, you did the thing you were good at. You helped people. You helped Nora and Mel where you could and stayed in that cell with the addition of a dirty mattress until Issac trusted you enough to go out on patrols.

And now, with everyone being called to the front, you were deemed needed for whatever came next. Abby reassured you, seeing this as a way to earn your keep and be considered a part of the WLF. But you knew full well where Manny stood with your presence now added to the group.

In fact, many people were indifferent about your contributions to the force. You were a doctor and started aiding the wounded from attacks then you were going on small skirmishes with fellow WLF soldiers. But they were simply waiting for the moment they could put a bullet in your back.

You held no particular fond spot in anyone’s mind. You were an anomaly. Walking a lonely highway hoping to find a new place to call home.

That’s why you stuck to yourself when moving with the trio. Mel tried to strike up some sort of conversation, but you kept your mouth shut. And you kept your eyes averted whenever Manny wished to show you his distaste for you accompanying them. Abby was really the only person you were willing to spend time with and talk to. She was the only person not looking to tear your head off. She taught you how to properly handle their rifles and taught you what you needed just in case something were to happen out in the field.

She was your only friend.

Moving through the warehouse and moving down a slope leading to a few box carts where you took notice of voices further down the tracks. With the density of bushes and tall grass, the approach was made easy, but the execution of taking the Serphaites down wasn’t. You are stuck near Abby, not trusting yourself on your own. And once she killed the first and Manny killed the second, the Seraphites took notice. Then all hell broke loose.

Gunfire sounded throughout the overgrown enclosure with you seeking refuge inside of a box cart. Taking pot shots and beginning to feel the ache in your shoulder from the recoil of the rifle. Mel, Manny and Abby handled the situation like pros. Taking one down after another until the only sound to be heard was your panting. Adrenaline coursing through your system.

“All clear!” Abby announced, shouldering her rifle. “You good?” Abby inquired, appearing from behind cover and walking toward you.

With a sheepish nod, you hopped out of the box cart and followed behind the group. Climbing up a mound of dirt and onto a broken landing that held a gate ahead of them.

Walking over, Abby pushed against one of the sides and created big enough of a gap the chain would allow. “Through here.” Abby moved out of the way, allowing you to step through first before she followed and the other two did the same.

The moment you stepped through, barely able to take account of your surroundings, a distinct whistle sounded. And before you could respond, a hand grabbed the back of your pack and yanked you inside the gas station just as the sound of gunfire appeared. Bullets whizzing past you, the wall behind the front register was slowly becoming riddled with bullets. The trio were quick to return fire and keep the Seraphites off of them for as long as they could.

But you were stuck with that constant tremble in your joints. Much like when you had your first run-in with the cult, you couldn’t pull the trigger. This fieldwork wasn’t where you belonged. You preferred being stuck inside a tent smelling like metal and injured bodies all around you. That was when you were in your zone. But this? This shit isn’t ever going to be where you exceed.

By the time the gunfire stopped, you were already being hoisted to your feet. Faced to look at all the dead bodies of cultists, which were a lot more than you were expecting. They had the upper hand, the same firepower and large able bodies. But you were beginning to discover the pattern with Abby that she was practically invincible and a lot better than most people in this day and age were capable of being.

“We got wounded in the truck. Mind giving us a hand with that, outsider?” The title had stuck rather quickly in the short amount of time of you being “recruited” into the WLF. Everyone didn’t call you by your name or consider you a human being. If anything, you were a dog on a leash, being tugged along by Issac to do as he ordered. Because if you weren’t going to give him any info on Ellie or Dina, then he would make you useful.

Nodding, you followed into the truck after Manny. Moving to the center relinquishing your pack and quickly pulling out some gauze. Glancing up at the injured WLF soldier, he was shot right through the hand. Nothing that could limit his capabilities to work, but it would make him have to put down the rifle for a few weeks at best.

“Hold your hand out for me. This isn’t going to hurt, but bear with me, all right?” The man nodded, straining as you began to wrap the gauze around the wound. “You might think this part is the worst, but I’m going to need you to squeeze this as hard as you can.” Placing the roll of gauze in his hand, you slipped back into the seat behind you and sighed. Holstering your rifle and securing it whilst ejecting the round from the chamber. Out of everything Joel taught you and what you picked up, it was never wrong to make sure a gun was extra safe.

“You froze.” Lifting your gaze, you found Manny staring at you with almost a look of empathy. It was new coming from him. Constant badgering and snide remarks were all you got from the man. “In the train yard and gas station. You froze.”

It took you a moment, letting out a breathy laugh as you nodded sheepishly. “I’m not good with guns.”

“That’s hard to believe considering how you discharged your weapon.” He motioned to the rifle in your grasp. “Who taught you that?”

With pursed lips, you looked down. “Joel. Joel Miller.” That created a riveting silence amongst the “Salt Lake” group that stared at you. Still, the vivid imagery of that night still haunted Abby to this day. And to think that you travelled all the way here with your ex and a friend to kill her and everyone there that killed Joel was hard to grasp. She guessed this was some sort of act of torture. Forcing her to see the pain she indirectly caused with her decision. “But my father taught me how to handle a rifle–the basics, you know? His father taught him since he was a Vet before the world went to shit and whatnot. But Joel taught me to how to shoot, how to clean a gun, and how to kill someone.”

For the rest of the ride, the group was silent and you enjoyed it. Often, you felt like the outcast during most conversations with Abby’s group. The point being; they killed a close friend of yours. So, it wasn’t like you could talk about getting beers or having a barbeque with them. Instead, you would stand there in silence and only talk when someone attempted to converse with you. So, the silence was slowly becoming your best friend each day.

Arriving at the F.O.B., you hopped off the truck and assisted the injured man and Mel off. But it wasn’t long before a man came running over. “Hey, Outsider! Issac wants you in his office, pronto!”

Abby smiled. “No rest for the wicked, huh?” She teased.

You scoffed, nudging her softly. “I’ll see you up there?”

“You can count on it.” You smiled once more at the woman, feeling your guys’ gaze linger on one another a moment too long before you turned. Cheeks warm as you followed the soldier through the front barracks of the base.

From the gate, WLF soldiers were piled up under tents to avoid the sun. Some were working with faulty weaponry and supplying ammo, assisting with teammate’s gear. Others were working on battle plans and zones occupying Serphite forces. And in the center was where the fresh scent of food caught your senses. Men and women seated on dirty benches feasting on one of the few meals they could get in a day. It made you wish you got to stay back at the stadium. At least then you got to eat some fruit and not starve.

Entering the central compound, the dim lighting of fires blossoming from barrels did very little to give you a view of the interior. It wasn’t until you reached the lobby made into a jail of sorts that you could see clearer. The backup generators set up outside gave the fluorescent lights power with them occasionally flickering. But your eyes shifted to the prisoners. Seraphites and outsiders. All of them sitting in their own piss and shit. The sight of it was more enlightening than disgusting because you were in their place a mere few days ago. You were sleeping on concrete in your own filth. The only difference was Abby had specifically requested that you be given a bucket. The point was, seeing it from the outside gave you insight into what you must’ve looked like. And safe to say, you weren’t planning on it ever happening again.

Riding the elevator up to the office, the soldier opened the door for you. But you found no sign of Issac and as if the man was reading your thoughts, he said, “He’ll be up shortly.” And he left without hearing your response. Leaving you in a cleansing silence that you slowly eased back into. Collapsing onto a counter and staring out the window. The sunset hit your face nicely and allowed itself to warm you from the cold inside the office.

It took a few minutes, but Issac soon arrived. But when he entered, he turned around and stopped Manny and Abby. “The both of you wait outside.”

You frowned, sliding off the counter and looking past your leader at a confused Abby who looked like she wanted to protest but was stopped by the door closing on her.

Issac then turned to you. “Y/n,” he sighed, walking to his desk. “I heard you’ve been a great help at the Stadium.”

“Um, yes, sir. I’ve been picking up jobs where I can.” You hated these types of conversations with the man. It wasn’t too long ago that he had you tied to a chair and was extracting information from you. Cutting you up and probably was planning on doing worse. But you hated how intimidating he could be at times. You weren’t the confrontational type and he solidified it with his constant hollow demeanor.

“That’s good. Good.” Lifting up a paper, he waved it with a smile, scoffing to himself. “This job is going to kill me.”

“What can I do, sir?” You asked, taking a step.

He sighed, turning to sit on the edge of the desk, crossing his arms over his chest. “In the next coming days, I’m going to need you to stay here.”

The order nearly made you laugh. But finding his expression unchanging, you felt your own smile slowly drop. “May I ask why, sir?”

“We’re staging an assault against the Seraphite’s island and when we come back, I’m going to need a medic ready to patch our soldiers-”

“Is Abby going, sir?” The question slipped without much thought being put into it. Judging by the look on Issac’s face, he wasn’t exactly expecting it either. But he’d seen and heard about the two of you. How the both of you were nearly joined to the hip since you were released. He wasn’t sure how his most trusted soldier was able to grow attached to an outsider like you.

But he brushed it off. “This isn’t up for debate, Y/n,” he said. “They go, you stay.”

Pursing your lips, you nodded. “Affirm’, sir.”

“Good.” He turned back toward his desk, saying over his shoulder, “Your room is down the hall. Last door on the left.”

Biting your bottom lip, you walked to the door and swung it open. Finding the two soldiers standing talking to one another. But when they found your defeated expression, their conversation halted. Abby is the one to step forward and place a hand on your shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Sniffling, you nodded, jutting a thumb over your shoulder. “You should go. He’s waiting.” Slipping past her, you were quick to wipe your cheeks as you followed the directions provided by Issac and entered your quarters for the next few days.

You didn’t know why you were crying. You didn’t want to. If anything, you were glad to be out of harm's way. Protecting and saving people was where you excelled. But you couldn’t take a life. No matter the person, it still meant that you were killing a part of yourself to survive. So, shouldn’t you be feeling relief instead of dread?

With a shaky exhale, you hit yourself in the head. “Stop!” The answer to such a simple question was Abby. It felt so wrong to care for her. After everything she’s done, she was supposed to get a bullet in the head or a knife in the stomach. But you hadn’t done what you were tasked with doing when you came to Seattle. That promise to Ellie had fallen through the moment you smiled at Abby. Then again, did you have to keep a promise with someone who couldn’t even keep theirs?

Storing your gear in the corner of the room by the bed, you made quick work to occupy your attention from the daunting thoughts and eventual conversation with Abby. Going into the fridge and pulled out some bread and eggs. Placing a pan on the stove and turning on the burner with butter soon following.

A knock sounded at the door before it slowly peeked open. Abby’s head slipped through the crack, glancing around before finding you standing in front of the stove, cracking open an egg and letting it hit the pan. Its loud sizzle and pops make you step back and look at Abby. “Do you want some?”

She smiled, shutting the door behind her. “Sure.” Walking across the room, she placed her gear with yours before looking around. Eyes staying transfixed on the single bed in the room.

“I’ll sleep on the floor.” You frowned, looking over your shoulder at the girl who was already unrolling her sleeping bag. It made you laugh.

“Scared you won’t be able to keep your hands to yourself, Abby?” You asked, chuckling to yourself.

“I’ve been keeping self-control since I met you, Y/n,” Abby muttered. “But I want you to be  comfortable and I would take up most of the bed.”

“But what if I don’t want to sleep alone?” You inquired a hint of mischievous intent in your voice.

Your arms crossed over your chest as Abby tilted her head slightly, smirking. This game that the two of you have played has been going on since the moment Abby saved you from imprisonment. Or maybe it started a few days after she found you helping Nora and Mel in the medical bay. Either way, it was a cat-and-mouse game that neither of you wasn’t afraid of indulging in. And, at the deepest part in your core, you knew this wasn’t okay. To sleep with the “enemy”. But she was attractive and had been nothing but caring to you since she met you. And maybe you fell for people so easily before looking at the red flags, but you wanted to enjoy life for a little while longer. At least until she left for the attack against the Seraphites. Because if she didn’t come back, you wanted to have one last night with her.

The steam of the stove grabbed your attention once more. Smirking to yourself, you flipped the egg. You could feel her gaze bore into your figure.

And it only took a few moments before you felt her hulking figure press into your back. Her pelvis is flush with your ass and her hands holding your hips. Her finger dipped further, gently pressing into your pelvis. It made you smile.

With her face pressing into the back of your head, you muttered, “If you’re wanting to fuck, then just say so, Abby Anderson.”

“Is it obvious?” Your only response was to gently shake your head, dreadlocks hitting her face, making her laugh.

With a deep guttural groan, Abby spun you around and lifted you onto the counter. A yelp fell from your lips as your hands fell to her shoulders, legs interlocking around her waist. Abby let out a deep sigh, staring up at you with a small smile.

“So, are you going to make the first move or do I have to?”

The two of you laid side by side with one another. You were still trying to capture your breath and savour the taste of Abby’s nectar on your tongue. Gently pressing kisses into her side. Your legs were tangled amongst one another with a bedsheet lazily draped over the both of you to escape the cool breeze that slipped through the window.

A sweet sheen covered your guys’ bodies that didn’t at all seem to bother either of you. If anything, it made the moment seem to carry on a little longer.

Letting out a gentle laugh, Abby sighed. “I’ve never done it with a girl.”

You smirked, rolling onto your stomach and resting on your forearms. “Did I impress?”

Abby grinned, nodding eagerly. “Oh, yeah. You did more than impress.” A soft laugh fell from your lips as you chewed on your nail, shaking your head.

Although you knew there might be some sort of clarity that hits you, making you regret your decision, you still enjoyed it. There had been something primal and intimate with Abby that you forgot what it felt like after months with Ellie. This felt way too different 

“You ever think about running away?” You asked, looking at the taller girl. “

“Where would you want to go?” Abby inquired, staring up at the ceiling.

“Canada sounds nice. I mean, the winter would be shitty, but it’s nothing I’m not used to,” you said.

Abby hummed, eyebrows slightly pinching together in thought. “I think anywhere with you would be nice.”

Your lips rolled, corners pulling upwards as Abby huffed. “Flirting is not my thing, huh?”

A graceful laugh fell from your lips, forehead resting against the other side. “Baby, stick to flexing and being all sexy and flirting won’t ever have to be used.”

Another break of silence took its place with the two of you enjoying one another’s company. Holding one another softly. And it felt true. Like this is where you belonged.

Despite everything that happened leading up to this point, you liked this. It was a simple way of life working with the WLF and you wished this had been what you experienced in Jackson and with Ellie. But there always had to be something relating to Ellie’s pent-up anger and Maria tasking you with patrols. At least now you could do what you had trained yourself to do for years and feel like you might be making a difference.

And Abby made it better.

“I want you to know that I care about you.” Your confession came suddenly and caught Abby off guard. “Like, despite what we both went through. I care about you so fucking much and I know I shouldn’t. But, If I can, I want to be here with you.”

“Then stay.” You looked up at Abby, finding her smiling softly down at you. “I mean, who else is going to wake me up by throwing books at me.”

A laugh fell from your lips as you nodded. “Yeah, I guess I have a role to fulfill, huh?” She smiled, leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips before leaning back.

But Abby’s smile slowly faltered as she sighed. “I have to go out and find Owen soon. Any WLF soldier that finds him will likely shoot him on sight for what he did.” Despite her saying this, she made no move to start getting ready. She continued to stroke your hip slowly, occasionally reaching around to grab at your ass possessively. In all honesty, she didn’t want to waste any time away from you considering she was going to be putting her life on the line against the Seraphites.

You picked at the fabric of the pillowcase, adjusting your position on your forearms. Pursing your lips, you asked,  “You still love him, don’t you?”

“If I did, I wouldn’t have done this.” Sitting up with her back against the headboard, you adjusted to lay between her legs with your chin resting on her pelvis. “What I and Owen had is history. Young teenage love that faded out. Right now, I’m focused on you. I want to make sure I have something to come back to.”

“The attack on the Seraphites,” you measured your words, almost cautious of what you might say. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I’ll radio you if anything comes up, all right?” She kissed you on the corner of your lips and you nodded. Reach up and grab her ponytail and forcefully tug her back down to meet you fully. Tilting your head and pressing further into the kiss. Only parting with your teeth gently at her bottom lip. Warm breaths intertwined with one another as you looked up at her with those eyes that tempted her to forget Owen for a little longer and spend some more time with you

“Make sure you come back to me.”

It’d been a day or maybe two. It was hard to tell at this point with the workload given to you. What you did know is that there had been little to no communication from Abby. And laying awake in your room, thoughts of the prior night kept you up and wanting more.

In full honestly, it’d been a while since you got laid. Ellie had been rather busy before Joel even passed and most of the time she wasn’t in the mood. So, you had to deal with the pent-up stress and bottled it. Abby helped you release it and always seemed to be ready to give a “helping hand” with your situation.

So, maybe out of desperation, you grabbed your walkie-talkie and held it close. Smiling to yourself as you pressed the button and whispered, “Abby.” There was no response. “Abby, are you there?”

Again there was another long pause, making you realize how late it actually was. Making you sigh, sitting up in your bed with your legs curling into your chest. “I guess you might be sleeping. I’m pretty lonely here. I just wish you were here with me, you know?” You sighed. “I will say that if you don’t make it back to me, I’m going to go to hell and kill you again, all right? Let me know if Owen is alright and when you guys are on your way back.”

Silence filled the void, letting you hope that maybe your words had drifted into your sleepy daze and would be at the back of her mind when she woke. The idea of it made you smile. So, with a sheepish smile and a heat growing across your body, you whispered, “I love you.”

A pause before the radio clicked on with audio.

“Y/n.”

The voice made your body tense up as you stared at the device in horror. A cold chill ran down your spine, shivering as you shakily brought the device close and muttered,

“Ellie?”

[gojuo]

Hello! What do you think about these parallels? Link: manny-jacinto post 758104776759214081

Aegon has just lost his 4-year-old baby in the most horrific event in all of the ASOIAF lore (bar Elia), because a ratcatcher knew how to get inside the Red Keep. Which is why he hung them in the first place, innocent or no. Justice dispensed. They live in a medieval society, the life of the king's heir is infinitely more important than the few lives of commonfolk. I am absolutely not saying that what he did was morally right or that I believe he's justified in hanging innocent ratcatchers just to catch one guilty one, I'm saying that it makes no sense in a Watsonian reading for Alicent, Dowager Queen, to care about these ratcatchers so much that she'd invoke their execution as an accusation on Aegon for his treatment of her. Not to mention ... why in God's name would Alicent even insinuate Aegon would hang her? For what? What exactly did she have to do with Jaehaerys' beheading that she would imply the same fate of the ratcatchers awaited her? Oh right, it's because the writers needed to use her as a mouthpiece to make it look like Aegon hanging 10 people as retaliation for the murder of his son is somehow the worst crime ever committed in all of ASOIAF history because 1. they needed a reason for Alicent to hand over his life to Rhaenyra in that stupid season finale and 2. they needed his motivation for going into Rook's Rest be about his shattered self-worth thanks to Alicent & co's belittling, and not dead little Jaehaerys. Plus, Aegon's done nothing for two seasons long but yield to his mother and seek her approval at every opportunity since he wants her love so bad. The insinuation that he'd ever hang her for ... no real reason (unlike his reason for hanging the ratcatchers) ... is mind-boggling. Makes no sense. It's the writers forcing her to act as a mouthpiece for their nonsensical plot threads. It's manipulative and bad writing since they're trying to force me to feel a certain way, but it falls flat since it makes no sense in-universe for Alicent to act like this or say that to Aegon in the first place.

In contrast, yeah Aemond burned Aegon in an attempted murder, for no real reason other than his bruised ego. Now he's getting called out for it by Aegon's sister-wife. The very first time he's getting confronted with his appalling actions, mind you.

No shade to OP but the parallel doesn't work. Aegon hung the ratcatchers because one of them murdered his son vs. Aemond had no justified reason in trying to kill his brother + Alicent equating herself to the ratcatchers makes no sense since she had nothing to do with Jaehaerys' murder like they did nor are they in the same position of relation to Aegon like she is vs. Aemond burned his sibling on dragonback in a battle they were supposed to fight together and Helaena is also Aemond's sibling who would be on dragonback in a battle he's trying to make her fight together. The parallels are ASS!

[wisteriasymphony]

Pulcinelle - Fragmentation

“Victory is still within my grasp, Nathalie! I have no need for the minor miraculous! Victory is mine, victory is mine!” Gabriel shouted through his phone, tearing his atelier apart while he paced like a caged tiger. 

The man had not rested for the slightest moment since the Chinese Miracle Box had been stolen from him, and his face wore the exhaustion like a coat of warpaint. Silvery gray hair fell over his brows in the haphazard manner of a battle-torn settlement, white banners of surrender tainted with ash as his eyes burned with a conqueror’s fury. And yet, he had conquered nothing. Monarch had crowned himself king with a power he no longer possessed. 

Raising up a crumpled diagram to the air, Gabriel continued to roar and howl. “I know the frequencies of each Kwami’s power! With the traces of their energy recorded within me, I shall be able to replicate them!” The ruined king burst into a manic laughter, shaking the paper like an empty chalice as its brothers swirled across tables and laid in dead heaps on the floor. “With the immense power of Embodied Transmission, all of the minor miraculous will be recreated and under my control! Do you understand, Nathalie? I’ve won! I have won!” 

Monarch Renatus - Alliance Rings

Alliance Rings shall be constructed of an alloy (hereby designated Alliance Alloy) of 50% Silver, 39.9999% Lutetium, 10% Scandium, and 0.0001% Miraculum. Miraculum powder shall be harvested independently and combined with Lutetium before the Alliance Alloy is synthesized. Miraculum powder will display properties similar to mica, giving Alliance Rings a faint purple sparkle that may be used as a marketable feature. 

Miraculum charged Alliance Rings -> Instantaneous Akumatization -> Potent Transmission? 

“Gabriel.“ 

“All I need is to convince Tomoe of this plan, and I’ll be—“ 

“Gabriel!” Nathalie was pinching her nose so hard she was half worried she would snap it off. “You had the Rabbit Miraculous with you, the first thing you should’ve done is gone back to save Emilie. We can’t keep helping you if you can’t help yourself!” 

“This isn’t just about Emilie anymore!” 

Gabriel began to choke at the sound of his own words, letting the phone drop to the floor. All at once, the room began to spin, the papers and charts around him like a sea of parchment with an ever-shifting gravity, no up nor down. He had to grasp the edge of the table to prevent himself from collapsing and remember, remember that it was all about Emilie and it would only ever be about Emilie. He had to remember the ghost she had become, picture his love slipping away and resolve beyond all means and measure to bring her back. It was about Emilie, and ergo everything was justified, nothing was his fault! Gabriel could swear he had never been at fault!

“Yeah,” Nathalie barked back. “I can tell.” 

And so she ended the call. 

—— Hours later, in another office… ——

“Where are they?” 

Gabriel was not at all comfortable with the idea of admitting failure to Tsurugi Tomoe. “Where is what?” He stammered out, loosening his collar with a finger. 

“The collection of minor miraculous,” she repeated herself. “You said you had them.” 

“When did I ever say that? You must, uh… You must be mistaken, Tomoe.” 

“At 21:08 last night exactly, I was greeted with an email in my personal inbox. Its contents were:” 

Madam Tsurugi,

 I am pleased to inform you that I have acquired the possession of fifteen minor miraculous this evening. I feel as though this may be beneficial to our plans for the Perfect Alliance Initiative, and would like to discuss alterations to our plans in the morning. As you know, these artifacts are highly powerful (albeit not what I am currently searching for), and I believe you will know the best course of action moving forward. 

An earlier meeting later on this evening would also suit me, although I do plan on following this sudden turn of events up with a grand speech to Paris as a whole to highlight Ladybug’s catastrophic blunder. Please refrain from contacting me until after I have concluded this. 

Signed, Gabriel Agreste 

“…That must have been an automated message.” 

“Do you take me for an idiot, Agreste?” 

Gabriel swallowed hard, bringing his face into a taut closed smile that pushed his glasses further up his face. The cocktail of drugs he’d taken to restore himself was only making Tomoe’s face swim before him, her features blending into a blurry blobfish mush that he couldn’t stay still long enough to focus on. The sweat rolled down his face with the tempo of his twitching cheek. 

“I can say with utmost certainty that—“ 

“That you take me for an idiot?” 

“No!” Gabriel blurted out. “…That what transpired last night was due to circumstances beyond my control. I believe the culprit we should turn our attentions towards is my nephew, Felix.“ 

“The fourteen year old boy?” 

Gabriel swallowed again, following the action up with a quiet, nervous laughter. Of course it had to be the most ridiculous thing, for a boy less than a third Gabriel’s age to defeat him, but there was simply no other leads! Gabriel could picture that twerp now, cackling to himself as he sifted through the jewels rightfully stolen for Gabriel, crying to his mother about how innocent he was and how his uncle deserved to be robbed like this! But Gabriel Agreste would not take this slight standing down, not for a moment. Just as Tomoe had put it, Felix was but a small defenseless child. 

“…Yes.” 

“I see no reason in working with you any longer if teenagers can surpass you in competence,” Tomoe stated coldly, rising from her chair. 

Gabriel slammed his hand down on the desk, the sweat from his palm graying the slick white sheen on the white wood. 

“One last gamble, Tomoe. I have one last gamble.” 

Gabriel fished out his brooch from underneath his jacket lapel, holding it up to the light. To the untrained eye, the center of the brooch was a cabochon of charoite, dark streaks clouding the surface of the gem. From its back shot out four spokes, the top two longer than the bottom: Pearlescent, shimmering nacre reflecting tones of lilac and blush pink. Silver veins ran up each wing tenderly, so thin they were hard to even notice. Perfect, invisible segments, tapering off at the ends of each wing into immaculate points. 

“Feel its power, Tomoe,” Gabriel panted, leaning onto the desk. “This is all we have ever needed! Imagine even an ember of this power flowing through the alloy in every ring! Even the smallest pinch of this brooch as a component, and I will have every customer of yours as my minions.” 

Tomoe slowly sat herself back down, keeping a hand on the table to steady herself. 

“And how do you plan on accomplishing this?” 

Gabriel’s laugh was hoarse and already sickly, his grasp on the brooch so tight the lower wings began to poke into the flesh of his hand. 

“If there’s anything I know intimately, Tomoe, it is that a miraculous can break,” he replied. “And if I can even shatter a single wing of this brooch, I can redistribute its power as I see fit.” 

taglist: @notchocostrwberry @beezonia @silliersiluriforme @lemons-taste @pyrusinc @wuhuislandconspiracy

[harmonyindark245]

Character Hate

This is 100% a rant and you don’t have to agree with me, but I really needed to talk about it. I’ve been trying to distance myself from the ACOTAR fandom because of all the toxicity, but I always find myself drawn back, especially with the new books coming out and everything. There is a big difference between hating and disliking. And I understand disliking certain characters because they don’t sit right with you. But one thing that I cannot fathom, is the hatred. Why has everyone decided to hate on characters that aren’t our favorite? I just wanted to point out a few specific characters. 

Rhys 

He’s secretly evil. Really? Did you all not read the first three books? I get the argument that we only see him from Feyre’s pov, but even Feyre disliked him until we found out his truth. Also, can we talk about the absurdity of this claim? The man who was SA’d for FIFTY YEARS, who hasn’t even shared his trauma with his MATE because he doesn’t want to burden her with it. The man gave it all up for his friends, family, and PEOPLE. As an Elriel shipper, I was pissed at Rhys for interrupting them, but I GET IT. He wasn’t sure if he was going to survive, if his mate was going to live. Then there was all the other drama that was happening. Of course, he wouldn’t want one of his close friends going out and dueling with the son of a high lord (and technically heir of a whole court). And at the start of ACOSF, Rhys has every reason to hate Nesta, and I don’t think that needs to be justified. And in HOFAS, as a High Lord, he again had every right to be pissed. I just feel like sometimes you guys forget that as well as being a part of their family, he’s also the High Lord of the Night Court.

Nesta

Yes, I will admit that she’s not a good person. But she worked through it. She went through traumatic experiences, that if anyone of us goes through, we would probably behave the same way as she did. But she worked on herself. She healed. She became a Valkyrie. Nobody could hate Nesta more than she hates herself. And I admit that I could never completely love Nesta because as someone who has been in a position that Nesta had been, I can’t even imagine letting my younger sister go through all of that to keep us alive. It’s a completely personal reason, because I would do anything for my sister, and the way Nesta didn’t do anything when they most needed it will always anger me. But I still admire her for how she tried to bring herself back. Because it’s not easy. Feyre was also the same when she was depressed and she also worked on herself. Even though I don’t like Nesta, she does not deserve the hate she gets. 

Feyre (?!)

If you hate Feyre, you probably should’ve stopped reading around the second book.

Elain

What is it with people hating on Elain? I never understood how you can hate someone who has done NOTHING to ANYONE. The only possible reason people could hate Elain is because she happened to like a boy. It’s not as if she didn’t want to help out with the court. She even apologized to Feyre. She even took part in the war. So what is the problem with her? Just because she doesn’t like Lucien and likes Azriel she deserves to be hated upon? She’s boring? She can’t give birth to Azriel’s kids? Is that really what we’re getting to? Again, I can understand disliking her because she wasn’t helpful during the cabin, or maybe because she was rude to Nesta or whatever, but hating her for such feeble reasons? Let’s not forget that it was Elain who convinced Nesta to let Feyre and the three unknown Fae males inside their house and offer it up as a meeting place.

Gwyn

Just because a group of people want to ship Gwyn with Azriel doesn’t mean that other people have the right to hate her. She has done NOTHING wrong. She hasn’t even shown interest in the man. She has her things she’s going through and she is also trying to heal. There has been not a single action done by her yet that deserves the hatred she gets. As an Elriel shipper, I will admit some people unnecessarily try to bring Gwyn down. 

Fans

We are all the same. We read this amazing series by SJM and love the characters and dynamics and want to talk about it share our thoughts and theories and write pieces of fiction for others to enjoy. It’s vile how many hate comments are passed around in this community. You enjoy what you love, and let others enjoy what they love. You don’t need to prove your likes by bringing other people and characters down. You may not realize it, but some of us relate to our favorite characters, and when you say hurtful things against the character, it truly feels like a personal attack. The main reason why I couldn’t stay in the fandom anymore was because of the claims that Elain didn’t deserve to be with Azriel because she couldn’t have his kids. As someone suffering from PCOS and might not be able to have kids, that statement always breaks my heart. Do people think that just because a woman can’t have kids she doesn’t deserve love? There are so many examples of such small claims causing hurt to the fans, which is not what fandoms are for. 

And with that, if you have something negative to say about my rant, then please keep it to yourself. 

[sharpth1ng]

I need to blow up Mr. Hank Loomis so bad. I'm ripping him to shreds with my mind. I don't like when people say Maureen is the reason Scream happened because it's HANK'S fault. fuck that guy

Yeah honestly the Maureen blaming feels like some unexamined misogyny. They were both cheating. Maureen is the only one that dies because of it.

Also like. Neither Maureen nor Hank is the reason scream happened. It’s either Billy and Stu or Roman depending on how you see it. No one forced them to do that. They chose to react to Hank and Maureen’s infidelity with murder. “My girlfriends mommy is a homewrecker” is not a defence that’s going to hold up in court.

Beyond that Maureen’s only crime is cheating, and in both fanon and canon Billy is also guilty of that (it’s either Stu or Christina). Like if you’re going to hate Maureen for cheating then it feels a bit hypocritical not to hate Billy for the same.

Idk from what we know I think I would have liked Maureen more than Hank as well. Sid seems to have had a positive relationship with her but Billy seems to want nothing to do with Hank.

Maureen was also a scream queen when she was younger like, that’s rad? The titles we get for the movies she was in make them sound like some pretty wild B-movies: Amazombies, Space Psychos and Creatures from the San Andreas Fall. These sound like movies Stu would LOVE.

I also just have some sympathy for Maureen with her past, so much of her backstory is defined by brutal sexual coercion and assault from the time she was 18. Cheating is obviously not good, but also like, she got together with Neil at the age of 21. Prior to that it seems like her experiences were mostly not consensual.

It was the early 70s, I can’t imagine that she felt like she had a lot of choices. The idea that she would have consensual affairs later in life is unfortunate but also not surprising. I think a lot of people who get married young can end up having this realization later in life that they want to experience things they haven’t, and those are the kinds of things you can regret on your deathbed.

As far as we know she’s a stay at home mom, she has no ability to support herself without Neil. From her perspective the options were probably: get a divorce, split up her family, make herself financially destitute, and have a chance to experience the things that were robbed from her when she was younger, OR stay with Neil and die eventually wondering what she missed out on, OR have an affair and hopefully keep her family together.

So yeah. Cheating? Not good, not excusable. But also relatively understandable in my opinion.

And yeah in terms of Hank we don’t know the most about him from canon, but we know how Billy reacts to him, and we know how Billy and Nancy both are: they’re sexist slut-shamers. Like, Nancy blaming Sid for what Billy did? You can hate Sidney but come on, you can’t argue that his actions were actually justified. All of this tells me that Hank’s views are probably in line with Nancy and Billy’s. Billy had to learn it somewhere right? Misogyny isn’t genetic.

So yeah that’s my monologue. Tldr: hate Maureen if you want, that’s fine, but blaming the Scream murders on her doesn’t make much sense. If you need a villain Hank is right there, and either way the real villains are Billy and Stu.

You can still like them even if they suck, I promise, they’re fictional characters. You don’t need to shift the blame for their actions onto other characters to justify liking them.

[mdhwrites]

Since you watched Hazbin hotel, you maybe have watched Helluva Boss too. I have a question, cause im curious.

Do you think that Stolas's marriage was retconned to victimize him?

So I'm going to swerve this at first to just talk about the fact that what they did with Stolas is nothing new, it's just essentially twin tropes smashing together at the same time. Both are ways people use family to humanize someone, and in a broader context two ways in general used to humanize someone. His daughter is essentially "Save the Cat" where by showing a gentler, warmer, more caring side of himself, we know there's nobility in him which can paint some of his better actions in a kinder light. Meanwhile, his wife shows the pressure and cruelty upon him, the way life crushes him, that makes his crueler actions seem perhaps more like coping mechanisms. It's like giving an alcoholic a tragic backstory so you understand that he doesn't drink himself to oblivion because it's fun for him and he doesn't care about the harm it does to others but because he needs it to survive and function at all, at least in his eyes.

Neither of these tropes are bad either. Done with less awful character traits, you get stuff like the silly person who covers their trauma by being over the top and maybe ignoring reality more than they should. I myself literally used saving a cat as a way to humanize my noble main character in Little Miss Rich Witch because while she was dismissive of others and seem annoyed at many people's actions, now she was willing to hurt herself by reaching into a bush of brambles and help a kitten find safety. It theoretically can help assure the reader that a better person is under there and going to emerge eventually.

...Which brings us back to Stolas. Now the first thing I have to mention is that you're actually incorrect. I have not watched Hazbin but I mention a lot of shows that I've seen enough analysis, discussion, etc. for and feel comfortable enough mentioning some broadstroke elements that resonate with what I'm discussing. I HAVE seen some of Helluva Boss but ended it on the episode where Blitzo and Moxxie get kidnapped so I'm not ignorant on these subjects but I didn't really see when life went to complete shit for Stolas...

And I do not give a fuck because neither of these tropes function when there is no better man to speak of. I mentioned Rich Witch not just as self promotion but because of a REALLY important element that fails with his daughter: Follow through. Azu, the noble girl, puts herself in danger of breaking the rules because her busy schedule means that in order to bring the kitten to a shelter, she first has to bring it to school the next day. Then we find out that while she's tsundere about the reasons for working there and doesn't think animals like her, she actually volunteers at that same shelter so this is hardly the first animal she's saved in some way. This makes what is essentially virtue signalling an actual part of the fucking character. Stolas on the other hand, in the SAME EPISODE that we introduced to Octavia, has seemingly neglected his daughter's interests and the fact that she's been growing up for roughly a decade. Hell, even then, he still hires his boytoy to guard them so he can focus on being horny than his daughter and on other childish pleasures that he enjoys. So... Yeah, he gets a really sweet song with her but it's hardly like that's some small nugget smoldering at the core of his character as that fire burned out long ago.

Which brings us to his wife. Hey, why does the alcoholic have a tragic backstory instead of saying, "I beat my wife because she's a bitch and that's why I drink"? It's because the latter doesn't feel like a justified response. At that point, you are a horrible human being with little care for others, you're just bitching and moaning so that you can justify your terrible behavior. This is what Stolas is doing to his wife. "You're a bitch so I openly, confidently, CONSTANTLY cheat on you with someone I do not actually act like I give a fuck about except for his dick because otherwise show him basic human decency." At that point, the only reason the show manages to frame Stolas' wife as worse than him is because she never gets a song with Octavia so it comes across like only one tried to be a good parent before things went to hell and... That's just narrative bias, not strict fact. Not from what I saw.

These tropes only work when there is a better man underneath it all. There is no better man to Stolas. It's akin to how Blitzo has this tragic backstory, life has clearly dealt him a terrible hand... And he's just a complete horrid monster when it comes to those around him. Moxxie despises him for what he does to his privacy, his boundaries and his own personal life and for what? Because Blitzo gets off on it? Luna is a trying too hard goth chick and she isn't actually that mean or cruel or the like. Not even the fucking succubi that act as an antagonist for an episode are as bad to their people as Blitzo is to his and that's without getting into how that episode's proper antagonist is actually Blitzo, both because of past actions and present.

There is at no point, besides shallow backstory (which as always, backstory does not actually a character make because their present actions matter WAY MORE), where we really have a reason to think there's good people in there anymore. That's also why I dropped the show. I wanted to continue but it clearly was going to focus on its worst characters rather than anyone with an ounce of likability. Or, better yet, anything actually compelling about them several episodes into the series besides "Uwu, look at my tragedy while I harass the people around me."

I'm sorry, that just makes you the asshole. See you next tale.

======+++++======

I had initially considering answering this privately since I don't know all the nuances about Blitzo's marriage... But also I watched 7 episodes (including the pilot), more than twice as many as most people tell you is a fair shake, and these were my impressions. At that point... Sorry, you have an uphill battle to prove your sexual harassment in story is somehow justified. The CONSTANT sexual harassment that is not just because they're in hell since Moxxie and Millie prove you don't have to be like this. It's still a choice.

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

[xenodile]

Dawntrail deals heavily with the idea of "proving your right to exist" and how self-destructive that line of thinking is. Each of Wuk Lamat's opponents in the Rite of Succession have something to prove that "justifies" their existence.

Bakool Ja Ja is the sole survivor of hundreds of stillborn siblings and a victim of eugenics that has spent his entire life being told he has one purpose, and that if he fails in that purpose, he is a waste of skin that should never have been born. As a result, he's a bully with horrible self-worth, who feels he HAS to lie, cheat, threaten, and kill to prove he's good enough to someone that sees him as a tool, and justify why HE was the one that lived among his hundreds of brothers and sisters that never got the chance.

Koana is so fixated on foreign technology and innovation because he needs to prove that Gulool Ja Ja adopting and raising him was "deserved", he NEEDS to "earn" his place in the royal family by making Tuliyollal a better place to live.

Zoraal Ja is a miracle child, born in circumstances no one ever thought possible, but he can't figure out what his purpose is supposed to be. Everyone told him as he grew up he'd be a great Dawnservant and surpass Gulool Ja Ja, but he could never live up to the impossible standard set by his father. He thought he was meant to be Gulool Ja Ja's heir, but his father instead adopted two other children, whom by Zoraal Ja's account, Gulool Ja Ja was more attentive too. In his eyes, he was unwanted by his own father, and nothing he ever did ever measured up to the expectations placed on him, so he wondered why he was even born when the world didn't seem to want him.

The reason Wuk Lamat succeeds is because she's driven by her own belief and desire, rather than a need to live up to a perceived standard. She is happy and content with a life that is, in a grander scheme, totally pointless. She enjoys the food she likes, she talks with people and makes friends, she just enjoys being alive and doesn't fight with herself trying to justify why she deserves to be happy, nor does she place expectations on others to prove why they should be able to live happily. Her motivation in the Rite of Succession is to maintain that simple, pointless happiness for herself and others.

After the Rite of Succession is finished, we meet Wuk Lamat's foil in Sphene. Sphene similarly just wants to protect the mundane, unconditional happiness of herself and her people, but in her case, she was created to do so, both as an individual and as a system. Because of the violence inherent to the system she was built to sustain, Sphene finds herself trapped in a contradiction wherein the action she MUST take to preserve the Endless is incompatible with what she as a person wishes to do, so in order to fulfill the purpose she was created for, she has to destroy her sense of self and identity. When Sphene is defeated, her individual desire overcoming the purpose she was built for and she is able to reflect on the harm she caused without managing do to what she was made for, she expresses the sentiment that she was a flawed creation that should never have existed. Wuk Lamat and the WoL both refute that idea, telling Sphene that even if she ultimately failed, her life still had meaning, because regardless of her "purpose" she brought happiness to others simply by existing.

[el-moscorrofio-y-el-mercachifle]

I don't see many people talking about Patricia's character anywhere, so I'll talk a little (give my opinion) here.

I personally feel VERY sorry for her. Okay, many of Patricia's attitudes and actions are not justifiable, but you can't help but feel empathy for her at least at some point throughout the story. She was never a saint because several times she was not strange when it came to manipulating/seducing to get something, she never thought before humiliating people among other things that make her a bad person.

But despite all this, you can see that several times she showed herself to be a naive person, she filled herself with expectations, deluded herself and lied to herself, (like for example the whole story with Mário, which she faithfully believed he was would marry her and keep her), and as you said, she always thought she was in control of everything and all the relationships she was involved in, but she never was.

She tried to use everyone and always ended up being used, she tried to manipulate everyone and they easily manipulated her, situations that show that she was really a vulnerable and naive person. I believe that her being so materialistic and wanting to find a rich husband is not only to solve her economic problems, but also to fill a void, because what she really is, is a very lonely person. She's so empty that she'd rather go to the gym than buy food, she'd rather not give up things she doesn't need than live poorly. These things only show that she is a person who lives by appearances, who tries so hard to be someone she is not, rather than showing the reality: that she is alone and does not have someone who loves her to the point of caring about her.

She was so at the bottom mentally (stopping eating to try to look like a life she can't keep it’s not normal, also other things she did) and economically that she had to humble herself to people, like when she went to Daniel because he had become president (that's all he wanted, and we know that sooner or later he would tell her the worst possible way how shameful this situation was and how much she fell to get to that point), or when she tried to seduce Mario to get a ride home.

Anyway, Patricia could be selfish, materialistic and a lot of other things, but that just reminds us that she is a REAL person like so many others out there.

I know many will definitely disagree with me, but as I already said, I know that she is no saint throughout the entire novel, but she suffered as much as those who were called and considered the “good guys” in the story.

Hiiii! Loved that you shared some of your thoughts! Here are some of mine too🥰

Patricia's character was definitely... a topic. It's no secret that to me she became a wasted potential and I dislike the decision to make her purely comedic relief when at first she was honestly pretty much in the same camp as characters like Armando and Marcela: very entitled and blinded by their own gigantic ego, to the point of hurting others for their own benefit even though they didn't realize it. I'm not saying she should have gotten a redemption or anything of the sorts. Characters like Mario never got them but they were still super well worked with. Patricia just became a joke.

I've also mentioned before that I too feel pity for her, or at least, I feel for first-half-of-the-novela Patricia. She was never kind, polite, humble or endearing, sure, but she seemed much more human. She was truly excited to think Mario fell for her, and seemed truly disturbed by that firdt encounter with Daniel. I feel for that Patricia because up until that point, her story felt real. I wouldn't say she was naive, but rather, too egocentric to realize there are bigger fish on the sea. She thought she could do anything to anyone and she'd always triumph. Uo until there, you feel she is a real person clinging to appearences because her life is so empty she literally has nothing else. Eventually it just became comedy and exagerated whining that made you forget that she's actually a person with real suffering, even if she's causing it herself (most of the characters cause their own suffering, too).

I couldn't pinpoint exactly when she became a parody of herself. At some point her role was just to throw venom, be comedic, and complain. That's it. She didn't even cause much trouble like at the beginning, and her extreme poverty was merely the butt of the joke. This last part particularly is where I feel the potential was the most wasted. I would have loved to see more of Patty's real struggles, and, if we had had a but more time with the novela, perhaps we could have even seen this for character development (or character regression, whichever you choose!): for example, how poverty is keeping her from eating, which is leading to headaches and dizziness and lack of energy. How poverty is landing her homeless. How she's forced to rely on, for example, Nicolás. I could totally see their love story having formed from this, like her falling so badly that she has no choice but to rely more on Nicolas now not only for frivolous things like the car and the cellphone, I mean real things like food and shelter and seen in a more real light.

Anyways, Ik why they couldn't develop more their "love story" (I think they probably were meant to be together, as in Gaitan probably had that goal, but we all know all the problems that theproduction went through), so it's just an idea.

I do think Patricia was probably mentally ill, tho. Her obsession with appearences is so bad, like you said, that she's willingly STARVING herself. She's starving and yet she doesn't miss a single day at the gym. She's willing to risk going homeless but doesn't stop buying new clothes or hair dye. She's willing to shower with cold water and go back to a pitch dark apartment where there's no food or entertainment as long as she can still look and act like a rich person in front of everyone. I think we often forget how insane Patty's situation was because we remember more her funny/malicious sides, but honestly, her whole world view was crazy.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts and sorry this took so long!😂❤️