#her singing “father your honor may I explain?

[ponds-of-ink]

So about the comic thingy with the different Purple Guys... Uh, what'd you think?

I did see it and liked the post, but I forgot to share my thoughts. 🤦🏻‍���️ Sorry about that.

That was great! Really dug the song choice (that one part in The Mind Electric really worked well) as well as how you drew my William. Also, your Dave looked very mad about being sent to the infirmary... Which I guess is fair, given what (seems to) happens later in the song.

TL;DR: Really love it, don’t worry. I’m too slow with responding sometimes– Especially since I’m still on vacation at the moment.

[firedrakegirl]

Loki lounged indolently next to his father as they watched the singing contest. Everyone was signing the same song by design, so that no one could discover Loki's favorite and use that to influence him. Odin had gotten tired of his youngest's monstrous children, and had announced the singing contest to find him a bride.

Loki looked at Odin. "I do not see the point in this. I am not going to find a suitable spouse by watching pretty people sing."

Every single prince, princess, duke, and duchess had beautiful singing voices. But they all grated on Loki's nerves for being too polished and perfect. Each blended into the next and previous, an endless succession of marionettes. He was the God of Mischief, by the Norns. And not one of them seemed to understand that. Hel, most of them didn't even dance at all, let alone let any part of themselves be seen in how they sang. They were too busy grasping for power to have real personalities.

Later that night, or perhaps early the next morning, Loki couldn’t sleep and so was wondering the palace. Then he heard the same song as he’d been hearing all day long. He quietly padded in the direction of the singing. It was quite the change from the polished, perfect voices he’d been forced to endure all day. The singer was clearly completely tone deaf, but was also putting their all into the song. He rounded the corner and had to cover his mouth to stifle the laugh. One of the servants was cleaning and dancing as she went, singing cheerfully. This part of the palace was typically abandoned at this time of night, so she clearly had no qualms about singing.

“'Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play And the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate  Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake I shake it off, I shake it off (hoo-hoo-hoo)  Heartbreakers gonna break, break, break, break, break  And the fakers gonna fake, fake, fake, fake, fake  Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake  I shake it off, I shake it off (hoo-hoo-hoo)” She danced around as she worked. Loki’s grin widened. He had a plan, and had spoken with this particular servant often enough to know she would roll with it.

“My dear, you are so tone deaf it makes my teeth ache.” He grinned as he announced his presence. “Please sing any other song. I’m so sick of that one.”

She spun around with a gasp, before relaxing abruptly at the sight of the dark prince. “Oh, good morning Loki. Can’t sleep again?”

“I cannot, but I’m glad for once. I think you have the solution to a problem that has been plaguing me.” She had always treated him like a person instead of someone to be put on a pedestal and then knocked off at the slightest provocation. Plus she enjoyed his mischief. He had long since given permission for her to use his given name when they were alone. Yes, this would work.

“You know it would be my honor and pleasure to help you with anything. Are we pranking the council again?”

“No, but I need you to go along with me without question, and I shall explain later.”

She looked at him for a very long moment. “If I may finish this section, I shall be done for the night and I’d be glad to help.”

Loki grinned at her. “Continue then. But please sing a different song.” She laughed and shrugged. “It’s been stuck in my head all day. Not my fault it was sung so much. Where is it from?”

“Midgard. Father thought the challenge would amuse me as I picked a spouse.”

She raised a brow as she cleaned. “And they still found a way to make it boring. I watched a few of the contestants before I went to bed this morning.” “Sadly, they did not improve.”

“You poor god of mischief.” She laughed, clearly teasing.

The two continued talking until she finished her work and put away her supplies. When she finished, she walked over to Loki and looked up expectantly. “Very well. It’s time for your next bit of mischief. How can I help?”

Loki took her hand, then wrapped an arm around her. “I need you to play along with me, and I shall explain later.” He guided her down the halls and through secret corridors that not even the servants knew. Eventually, they came to a gold gilded door, and Loki pounded on it.

“That’s the Allfather’s room!” His lovely servant hissed, eyes wide with fear. “Yes.” Loki didn’t have time to elucidate before the door swung open to reveal Odin in a dressing gown. “My son. It is hours before dawn.” The king stared at Loki then his eye drifted dismissively over the servant then back to his son. “What do you need?”

“Father, you can cancel the rest of the contest. I have found the one.” Loki pushed her forward gently as if to show her off. “She is a servant of the palace.”

“Your rules did not include that my spouse be of noble blood.” Loki retorted. “Just that they sing the song. We shall be married in two days time, as per your own rules.” Before Odin could get upset, Frigga stepped forward. “May we hear the voice of your bride to be?”

Loki nudged her gently, smiling encouragingly. She took a deep breath then started to sing. Odin winced at her singing abilities, but then Loki took her hand and pulled her into a dance as she sang. It did not help the quality of her voice, but it did make it clear why Loki had picked her. She tripped over her own feet, stepped on Loki’s feet, and yet they were both smiling widely as they danced together. Frigga put a hand on Odin’s arm before he could argue, and nodded her approval. “Very well, Loki. You will be wed in two days to our lovely… I’m sorry dear. I don’t think I know your name?”

“I usually work late at night, your majesty. I don’t believe we’ve crossed paths in a very long time. My name is Eldra.” She curtsied deeply. She was concerned that Loki was just using her to get out of some sticky situation, but he promised to explain later. Odin sighed, expression screaming that he had a migraine forming. “Eldra, I declare you the official winner of the contest, and of Loki’s hand.”

[kyra-writes-too-much]

Boiling Rage - Part 1

thanks for the request!!!!

@tobitofunction

“Saw that your open for Zuko request, maybe something about Zuko leaving Mai for the reader and Mai confronting Zuko about it in the boiling rock while reader is there was well”

I loved this idea so i wrote a lot of background too lol here’s part 1! lmk what u guys think in the comments!!! updates maybe a little slow cuz i’m trying to juggle all-honors classes, club softball, theater, and writing so please be patient, thank you! <3

word count 1.1k

~ ~ ~

You wake up to the sound of Zuko’s voice. 

“How are you going to get there, on Appa? Last time I checked, prisons don’t have bison daycares.”

This is followed by sigh. Presumably Sokka’s, because he isn’t in his sleeping bag either. 

“We’ll take my war balloon.”

What?

Zuko and Sokka are leaving? 

Not without me, they’re not, you think. 

You know the location of the balloon, and decide to follow the boys on their excursion. You silently slip out of your sleeping bag, and scale the wall of the cliffs surrounding the Western Air Temple. The forest is easy for you to navigate, as you often come there to hunt for meat and collect edible plants. And as a former Kyoshi Warrior, the obstacles and underbrush don’t deter you too much. In no time at all, you make it to the clearing where the war balloon is. 

Zuko and Sokka don’t arrive for ten more minutes. When you hear them coming, you crouch in the balloon's basket. 

“Okay, here it- AHH! Y/N!?” 

You collapse in a fit of giggles at the look on your boyfriend’s face. Sokka appears behind him, gaping at you in shock. 

Zuko takes a breath, quickly regaining his composure. “Y/N?” he repeats. “What are

you doing here?”

“Waiting for you guys, obviously,” you reply nonchalantly. “You said that you were taking the war balloon.”

Sokka gives you a smile. “So you’re coming to help?” 

“Uhh, yeah. What am I helping with exactly?”

While Sokka explains the plan to liberate his dad, Zuko gets the balloon ready to fly. When he’s all set and you’re caught up to speed, Zuko starts to firebend and the balloon takes off. 

You yawn, tired from getting little sleep. Sitting against the edge of the basket, you close your eyes and let the sweet darkness of sleep wash over you. 

~ ~ ~

“Pretty clouds,” Sokka says awkwardly, attempting to start a conversation with Zuko. 

“Yeah,” Zuko responds. “Fluffy.”

Sokka starts whistling a tune. 

“What?” Zuko asks, aggravated.

“What? I didn’t… say anything,” Sokka responds. “You know, a friend of mine actually designed these balloons.”

“No kidding.”

“Yep. A balloon, but for war.”

“If there’s one thing my dad’s good at, it’s war.”

“Yeah, it seems to run in the family,” Sokka agrees accusingly. 

“Hey, hold on, not everyone in my family is like that,” Zuko retorts.  

“I know, I know, you’ve changed,” Sokka says, attempting to diffuse the tension. 

“I meant my uncle,” Zuko mutters. “He was more of a father to me. And I really let him down.” 

“I think your uncle would be proud of you. Leaving your home to come help us, that’s hard.”

“It wasn’t that hard,” Zuko admits. 

“Really, you didn’t leave behind anyone that you cared about?”

“I had a girlfriend, but we broke up. I have Y/N now, though.” He looked at your sleeping form fondly. 

“Is that why you broke up with…”

“Mai? Yeah.”

“Huh. That gloomy girl who sighs a lot?” 

“Yeah. I… never really loved her the way I should’ve, but Y/N…” he trails off.

“How’d you meet her, anyway?”

Zuko laughs wryly. “The first time we met, I accidentally burnt down her village. But we met again in Ba Sing Se, when I was working in my uncle’s tea shop. She was kind to me, and at first I pushed her away, but… she was persistent. And eventually, I realized that I loved her. And then we met again here, and, you know.”

“Yeah.”

“What about you?” Zuko asks. “Do you…”

“My first girlfriend turned into the moon.”

“That’s rough, buddy.”

~ ~ ~

“There it is!” 

You sit up groggily, and Sokka jumps up excitedly. 

“There’s plenty of steam to keep us covered. As long as we’re quiet, we should be able to navigate through it without being caught,” Zuko informs. 

You get up and stand beside the boys as you enter the steam cloud. The heat covers you like a wet blanket. And then the balloon starts dropping. 

“We’re going down!” Zuko hisses. “The balloon’s not working anymore!” 

“The air inside is just as hot as the air outside so we can’t fly!” Sokka replies. 

The balloon lists to the side, and you’re all thrown against the wall of the basket. You’re pressed into Zuko, who wraps an arm around you protectively. 

“So what are we supposed to do?” your boyfriend says. 

“I don’t know, crash landing?”

“Careful not to touch the water,” you warn. “It may splash up on impact.”

The water grows closer until you hit it with a splash. Sokka didn’t listen to your advice, and he yelps as the water hits his hand. 

A moment later, the balloon crashes into the shore. You all tumble out of the basket in a tangle of limbs.

As Sokka and Zuko argue about the Water Tribe boy’s impulsiveness, you take in the environment surrounding you. The prison is enormous and imposing, the top of the walls barely visible through the thick steam.

Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, you realize. 

~ ~ ~

“I hope these disguises work,” Zuko says. You slide down the visor of your helmet. 

“I’m sure they will. Stop worrying, we’ll be fine,” you assure him, squeezing his hand tightly. He gives you a small smile through the helmet’s visor, which you return. 

Suddenly, a group of guards runs by the door. “Guards, there’s a scuffle in the yard! Come on,”  calls one of the actual prison guards. You all look at each other, but follow, jogging to keep up. 

The scuffle in the yard is “resolved”, and Sokka goes to escort the prisoner to the coolers (whatever that means), but not before saying to meet back there in an hour. 

“You! Come help get the prisoners back to their cells!” one of the older guards orders. With a start, you realize he’s talking to you. 

Zuko draws in a sharp breath, but you just whisper, “See you in an hour,” and hurry after the guard. 

~ ~ ~ 

You’re gone for much more than an hour. You didn’t realize the sheer number of prisoners before. You you did gain some information about what times the prisoners are fed, and let into the yard, and when they’re forced into jobs like mopping the floors, but   it’s nearly dark by the time you’re done. As soon as you can, you go to look for the boys. 

After a while searching, you finally spot Sokka  in the dining hall. 

“Hey, guard. What’s up?” you greet him. 

“Y/N! Thank the spirits you’re ok. Where were you?” 

“I was doing guards jobs,” you mutter. “Where’s Zuko?”

Sokka frowns. “He’s kind of… in a cooler right now?”

[maryamsweb]

WORST OF YOU, miles morales

“my left hook, a no-show

'cause I'll just keep letting you in”

synopsis: in which miles agrees to help felicia.

a/n: this is apart of my other story, “holy ground,” just writing some blurbs before i continue writing atsv!

felicia stood quietly by miles' bedroom window, her eyes fixed on him as he sat at his desk, absorbed in his drawings. the rhythmic tapping of his pencil on the paper echoed in the room, accompanied by his soft singing.

"needless to say, i keep a check. she was a bad-" miles' voice trailed off as felicia smiled, thoroughly entertained by his impromptu performance. intrigued, she decided to break the silence and share a secret she had been keeping.

"you know, when i left earlier, i may have... 'borrowed' your phone," felicia admitted, her mischievous grin widening. with a slight bounce in her step, she moved to sit on his bed, observing his reaction.

startled by her unexpected revelation, miles turned around in surprise, accidentally knocking his pencils off the desk. "how did you...? wait, you listened to that song the entire time?" he stammered, his voice tinged with a mix of disbelief and amusement.

ignoring his question, felicia continued, her tone growing more serious. "i need your help, miles. i want us to break someone out of prison."

miles froze for a moment, his eyes widening in shock. "what?!" he exclaimed, unable to comprehend the gravity of her request. before either of them could say anything else, the door burst open, revealing miles' mom standing in the doorway.

"mijo, qué pasa?" she asked, her gaze shifting from miles to felicia. her eyes lingered on felicia for a moment, noting her presence. "i didn't know you had a friend over."

felicia stood up from the bed, extending her hand toward miles' mom with a warm smile. "hi, mrs. morales. i'm felicia," she introduced herself politely.

rio shook felicia's hand, returning the smile. "felicia, hi. nice to meet you. miles talks about you a lot," she remarked casually, causing miles to facepalm and mutter, "mamí!"

rio's attention turned back to miles and felicia. "you should stay for dinner, felicia," she suggested, her hospitable nature shining through.

miles quickly intervened, positioning himself between the two women. "no, i think felicia should-" he began, only to be interrupted as felicia forcefully shoved him aside, taking charge of the situation.

"thank you, mrs. morales. i'd be honored," felicia graciously accepted the invitation, leaving miles to frown at her audacity. rio smiled and left the room, leaving the two teenagers to face each other with a mixture of annoyance and curiosity.

"you talk about me a lot, huh?" felicia teased, a playful glint in her eyes. miles rolled his eyes, trying to hide his embarrassment, but the telltale blush creeping onto his face gave him away. "shut up," he muttered, playfully defensive.

miles and felicia walked over to the dinner table, with felicia taking a moment to look around the house. the sight of the familiar surroundings brought back memories of what her home looked like before her father was locked up. as they approached the table, felicia noticed a man already seated there, giving her a curious glance. she looked back at him with a polite smile and asked, "who's this?"

rio, miles' mother, took it upon herself to explain felicia's identity. she said, "this is felicia, miles' friend," and she winked, sharing a knowing look with her husband. felicia nodded and greeted the man, saying, "nice to meet you, sir." miles observed felicia, wondering how someone who had once resorted to such violence, like clawing a person's face off, could now be so respectful.

rio initiated the conversation by asking felicia, "so, felicia, do you and miles go to visions together?" miles chimed in, saying, "yes, we do." jefferson, the man at the table, squinted at miles while taking a bite of his rice. "you look familiar, felicia," he remarked. felicia took a breath and replied, "maybe you've seen me around?" jefferson nodded, and rio added more plantains to miles' plate, saying, "well, i'm just glad miles has another friend."

playfully, felicia asked, "another?" the whole table erupted in laughter, except for miles, who discreetly kicked felicia's foot under the table. trying to steer the conversation away, jefferson asked felicia, "what did you say your last name was again, felicia?" felicia hesitated for a second before answering, "hardy." jefferson's fork clattered onto his plate. "hardy? as in walter hardy?" he questioned. felicia clenched her jaw and replied, "yes."

rio looked confused, her eyes shifting between the two. "qué? who's walter hardy?"

jefferson explained, "i arrested him for the murder of officer jenkins."

all eyes were now fixed on felicia. she took a deep breath and continued, "my father... was a dangerous man," she winced, "but you can't judge a daughter for the sins of a father."

the room fell into a heavy silence as the weight of felicia's revelation sank in.

the dinner continued awkwardly, with no one asking any questions after. as they finished, felicia spoke up, breaking the silence, "thank you for the food. It was delicious." rio responded with a tight-lipped smile and gently squeezed her shoulder, saying, "dont hurt him." felicia returned the smile and replied, "o would never."

miles, observing the tension, decided to intervene. her walked up to the women and said, "i’ll walk you out." as they left the apartment, miles couldn't resist breaking the tension with a light-hearted comment. "so, who are we breaking out of prison?" he asked with a smirk.

felicia paused for a moment, a mischievous smile spreading across her face. "i knew i could count on you," she said appreciatively.

[libidomechanica]

Untitled # 12132

A curtal sonnet sequence

               1

If silence, and a still amazed to me. If I find her burning no old thinkes I hear it. His brackish waues be, whose bodies force already shouts the mouth is they keeper than in prisoner to enjoy. Morning; such be Rome and the low sibilation, so I write, and like a roe or a travel tired with those Æols youth in a belovèd hands arise, when was gone from thy lute, while those fancies be. That for ” Her hair.

               2

Light is our fingers of my power, and Reigns lord of pomegranate are through fled from me, after it,—so you see the blinded thing of a curse. The people do when his long with flowretts bene fat, and sailed, his father the ringers who had with dew, and forth, this rustic voice, they seemed by his side exultations heart, with me; the force in the honor’s mimic, all our brain, instead of sound; I grant with beauty of religion.

               3

Some did breed a loathing came, an Eagle sore the excess of mine eye or else swoon to explain—If I were all night show ripe ears were heo on me saying it wakes many days, then, Sir, awful thrice-turned a dying how ridiculous. Warm in the saints, I reuerence, or cool me with divine; has felt sprung from the wainscot mouse, and never come her wins, till as he wed a foreign part to shrowde emong the salmon sing to dreaming.

               4

Who now arraigne, Lord along; and out of the lips: but the evenings harder to rest. I burn; and would, were rapid falcons in her name, above. Not for the phone. The father to retract; and with a girl, this breath my extern the mourn; but a far more is He that vow, that only gleaned. No more, that sigh. Navel, stomach, I knowe. Dead release the nuptial feast; and tropics in an easy man, gave you more famed for each redeem the way.

               5

Or like a buttercup upon its service to blere my sorrow must like a fire was thy beloved, O thou iollye she wept, he wiped her face, and art my wings from his love. In such Talisman—He yet hath fashioned not its bene myne, to whom, by the dwellest in other gives and resides, invaded withdrawn himself apart, the lass that I saw his supreme delight in sense my dying light? And simple shepheard prowde, the mind.

               6

But we remain according the sweet the caue, when he felt, Away, quoth he thou arise, and my belov’d repose. And said, airing crowd? Or I shall no more beautiful are thou my oblation move, unless number’d hours, for many a May. There is not weaned till God’s own heart besides, in a grateful loveth: I sought but that with your spright. Wery so wan, cloth’d with the Lost Soul to its turn the expect the rest of my beloved.

               7

No—yet still loveth: I held his silent with the roots together love, called disclose; so well as oak-leaves in the last: a peace or mourn no more that’s in the stage. And stupid eyes, that my self: cast him into bowl: milk are under an army wit. Thus to bear that which is mornes bene not whether both my mind; he saints will keep my dream’d, the ladies’ care, and scape, began to glitterand goodness and converted, does not my hearts.

               8

And Spirit fold, her forsake, hung hart upon that is the lattice. And yet, to die, or cool flowers. Last shepheard, and maidenhood. Resolved he soueraigne, Lord of the war by landed by his late the clearly twilight; There through of the thundering moon, in earth receive. And he spoken for her, and hung in their aid: they han the end is laid us as your poets can sayne that the circuit of Cain, is not his father’s the river.

               9

Like a flowers: his low tract and closed myself, the fatal fleshed the pavement are twins, which them, my own. Who now a spirit pours, when ye could hear twins her bosom with towards tho gan to applied to help the receive: for valour and the lowly leas: and and glorious holy Angels will have had a fane by sweetly, across a lake in one who would, my loveliest when the grave for love is all night, and they know; as liberties.

               10

As blank indifferent hands she no long; Thine head, and abandonment on his grow cold. A rose, and free, i’ll be spoke, and the sky to the tea-cup opens; only show it chance has round; that with bared bow loosed our flowring Wether lips must lie opened ear: surely be the seagull divine, and lie fall be glutted. Accuse me to thee. Now nae langer came wondering voice is kind; and they treat and bishoped by her conquer Time.

               11

From thence: her hairs be you too. Well she faintly, farre mens heart as thou make myself in ease my thoughts it roused the Rhodian state, was from world must die: the orator so I though you wear not returns: like to time to my beloved? By love, and bells, and we have spend, but if flame be ever and fair is thy breasts are asleep to the marks where above, but first did strike the shriek of a pomegranates bud forth by the galleries.

[beloved-little-coffee-shop]

Pick a song and tell your ocs back story from how their parents met.

Alone and Forsaken - Hank Williams and Drifting Cowboy

Tw! Suicide, gun, blood and illness mentions.

I dunno if saying "Bastard child" is a tw but it's just me saying that they weren't married when they had Cirius.

We met in the springtime when blossoms unfold

Cirius' parents had just met... They fell in love almost instantly.. He claimed he'd never fall in love.

The pastures were green and the meadows were gold

But she claimed that she'd help him figure out his emotions. He hid his love from her..

Our love was in flower as summer grew on

When he confessed, they were together for a year, and had a bastard child. Cirius was born.

Her love like the leaves now have withered and gone

A few years after Cirius was born, she got ill... Cirius was only 5, almost 6, when his mother passed away...

The roses have faded, there's frost at my door

His father couldn't cope with his love's death...

The birds in the morning don't sing anymore

Soon, in the winter when Cirius was 6, his father grabbed his own gun,

The grass in the valley is starting to die

And when Cirius came into his father's room, there was blood splattered on the walls.

And out in the darkness the whippoorwills cry

Cirius ran out and dialed 9-1-1, sobbing and pleading for help.

Alone and forsaken by fate and by man

He explained how his father had shot himself and he was sobbing the whole time.

Oh Lord, if you hear me, please hold to my hand

The paramedics arrived at his house but... His father couldn't be saved.

Oh, please understand

His father passed when he was only 6.

Oh, where has she gone to? Oh, where can she be?

When Cirius was 16 he started working at Étincelle coffeehouse.

She may have forsaken some other like me

He met a few nice people but... Regardless of having those friends and co-workers..

She promised to honor, to love, and obey

He still felt alone.

Each vow was a plaything that she threw away

It was 4 years of working in the coffee shop and he payed for a decent apartment...

The darkness is falling, the sky has turned gray

He would still feel alone no matter who he was around.

A hound in the distance is starting to bey

He would always wonder how his parents would act if they saw him,

I wonder, I wonder what she's thinking of

Like he was? Working at a coffeehouse.. in an apartment alone..

Forsaken, forgotten without any love

No girlfriend... Not even a roommate.

Alone and forsaken by fate and by man

One day, the day he turned 29,

Oh Lord, if you hear me, please hold to my hand

He didn't feel alone. He made a friend. And he didn't feel alone anymore.

Oh, please understand..

But he'd always remember the day he lost his mom. The day he lost his dad.

[countrymusiclover]

10 - The New Mentors

(Gif not mine. Belongs to @starkswaters

Part 11

Victor's Daughter

"Ladies and Gentlemen may I present the Victor's of the 74th annual Hunger Games. Katniss Everdeeen and Peeta Mellark!" The mayor of District 11 announced as the peacekeepers outside opened the doors allowing them through. I stand behind him seeing the faces of Rue's family nearly already in tears. Twisting the fabric of my shirt the pair stepped up to the microphone with Effie's prepared cards to stick too.

Peeta starts to read the cards but puts them down thinking of his own words to honor their fallen citizens. He turned to leave but Katniss stepped up to the microphone sucking in a breath. "I just wanted to say that I didn't know Thresh. I only spoke to him once. He could've killed me and instead he showed me mircey. That's a debt I'll never be able to repay..." She trailed off looking to Rue's poster. "I did know Rue. She wasn't just my Allie, she was was my friend. I see her in the flowers that grow in the medow outside my house. I hear her mockingly song. I see her in my sister Prim. Who was too young, too gentle, and I couldn't save her...I'm sorry."

An elderly man raises three fingers in the air singing the mockingly song. Seconds after the rest of the crowd followed. The peacekeepers draw their weapons as I whipped my head Peeta's direction. Katniss tried to walk forward seeing them pulling the man from the crowd, but two peacekeepers hold her back. I started running forward but a peacekeepers grabbed me around the waist holding me back. I thrash around seeing the other two put the man on his feet in front of the people of his district. Peeta gets shoved inside as I'm pulled inside. Katniss is the last one thrown inside seeing a gun get drawn. Gunfire is heard. Katniss started to charge back outside but my father grabs her. She thrashed against him where he has to yell at her, tightening his grip around her waist. "Stop it, stop, stop it!" I run forward but a peacekeepers grabs my arms where I try kicking him but he throws me to the floor. My father yanks me up by my right arm warning me. "Come on, don't do that."

"You two have a very simple task." He grumbled dragging us up the stairs and into a closed room. Yanking my arm from his I huffed bawling my hands into fists wanting to punch a dang peacekeepers right now. "Snow came to see me. He's worried about rebellion in the district's. He says they don't believe our love story." Katniss mumbled in a shacky breath. "So he wants you to make them believe it?" My father questioned before Peeta raised his voice at her. "You should've told me that before I tried to go out there and give people their money!" She whipped her head to him tears welling in her eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't know what else to do. He threatened to kill my family-" He cuts her off shouting directly in her face. "Well I have family too. Okay, people that I need to protect!" My father throws his hands up, throwing his hair around. "What about them. Who protects them!" He brushes his hair behind his ear with his left hand. "Katniss, what were you thinking?" Katniss started crying, her voice shaking as she spoke to him. "I was thinking about Rue. Haymitch please, please, please just help me get through this trip. Just help us get through this..."

He snapped his fingers at her words. "This trip, girl wake up. This trip doesn't end when you get back home. You never get off this train. You two are mentors now. That means that every year they're gonna drag you out and broadcast the details of your romance. Every year your private life becomes there's. From now on your job is to be a distraction. So people forget what the real problems are." Peeta looks to him for advice like in the games. "So what do we do?" He turned to the baker boy explaining. "You're gonna smile. You're gonna read the cards that Effie gives you. And you're gonna live a happily ever after." Katniss sniffed shaking her head yes right when I see the peacekeepers dragging the elderly dead man off somewhere. I croaked out in tears running straight for my father sobbing. "Daddy..." He instantly wrapped his arms around me. Running one of his hands through my hair until Peeta broke his comforting hug with Katniss. "What a second. Did you just say, daddy?" My father eyed the boy as I bury my face in his shirt, staining it with my tears not caring that they didn't know. "We'll explain on the train..." He responded focusing back on me, brushing his fingers through my hair. "Sssh it's going to be okay. I'm here, sweetheart." He whispers into my ear wishing this wasn't the life you had to live with.

The train zoomed down the track as I stepped into the living room wearing a blue sweatshirt and grey pants. My hair wavy from being in braids all day. Peeta and Katniss are sitting on the long couch watching me sit down in a side chair beside my father. He sits his drink down on the table in front of the four of us slowly breathing out. "I'm not sure how to put this..." Katniss crossed her arm over her chest leaning back on the couch. "How about the fact that you lied to the both of us for our whole lives. I mean come on Y/n, you lied to Prim and your supposed to be her best friend." My gaze falls to my feet playing with my fingers. Peeta points his index finger at us. "Katniss, wait a second. We shouldn't judge them without knowing the whole story." My father gave him a small smile as we then explained everything to them until it got really late where they went to bed. Laying on my bed with my hands behind my head the door slid open having my father walk in. I scoot over having him lay down beside me silence filled the room until I broke it.

"How did you feel when you're family was...killed?" I mumbled staring up at the ceiling with the train hitting the tracks. He shifted holding himself up by his left elbow. "I don't think you should know about that honey." I rolled over staring into his eyes. "I wanna know about mon...will Katniss and Peeta be able to handle what you went through?" He sighs heavily running his other hand through his hair. "I'll tell you more about your mother tomorrow. For now I just want to keep you safe." I simply nodded laying my head on his chest where he draped an arm over. I closed my eyes hoping that I wouldn't dream of the district 11 guy getting shot right in front of me. Haymitch stared down at you as you fell asleep. He wasn't sure how or if he would ever have the strength to tell you about his family or about your mother. No matter how many years went by for him it was still a constant nightmare. He reaches into his pocket revealing a small knife, clutching it underneath the blankets after he pulled them over the two of you. "Rest easy Maya, my love. I'll never leave her side." He mumbled in a yawn trying to sleep some even though it wouldn't last through the whole night.

Hi readers, I've got a question. Should they're be more flashbacks of a young Haymitch?

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[ljf613]

Zuko’s Memory Bias

I’ve talked about Azula’s potential memory bias towards her mother. In that same thread, I mentioned that Zuko also has memory bias towards his parents. What I didn’t think about until I was writing my recent post on his relationship with Azula is how those same biases may have affected the way he perceives her. 

(Warning: This is a very complex topic, and I suggest not reading/engaging if you find it potentially triggering or are unable to deal with it in a nuanced way. I am NOT trying to downplay abuse, nor am I trying to gaslight those who’ve been victimized by it.) 

Azula the Liar 

In “Zuko Alone,” we get a good sense of what Zuko’s life was like as a child. We see him interacting with his mother, sister, and (briefly) his father. And we get some insight into a line from “The Avatar State.” 

[ID: Excerpt from the transcript of the ATLA episode “The Avatar State.” Zuko: “You lied to me! [Cut to Azula, who appears confident.]” Azula: “[Smugly.] Like I've never done that before.”/ End ID] 

There are two scenes in “Zuko Alone” where Zuko accuses Azula of lying to him. Look at these lines, and see if you notice a common denominator. 

[ID: Excerpt from the transcript of the ATLA episode “Zuko Alone.” Young Azula: “[Sing-songy.] Dad's going to kill you! [Seriously.] Really, he is.” Young Zuko: “Ha-ha, Azula. Nice try.” Young Azula: “Fine, don't believe me. But I heard everything. Grandfather said Dad's punishment should fit his crime. [Imitates Azulon.] ‘You must know the pain of losing a first-born son. By sacrificing your own!’“ Young Zuko: “Liar!” Young Azula: “I'm only telling you for your own good. I know! Maybe you could find a nice Earth Kingdom family to adopt you!” Young Zuko: “Stop it! You're lying! Dad would never do that to me!”/ End ID]

[ID: Excerpt from the transcript of the ATLA episode “Zuko Alone.” Young Zuko: “Where's Mom?” Young Azula: “No one knows. Oh, and last night, Grandpa passed away.” Young Zuko: “Not funny, Azula! You're sick. And I want my knife back, now. [Zuko tries to grab it, but misses as Azula quickly moves out of the way, and loudly grunts.]”/ End ID]

Do you see it yet? Twice Zuko thinks Azula is making some kind of joke, and both times (as far as canon shows us, though I’ve seen headcanons that argue differently) Azula is actually telling the truth. 

Azula has no qualms about lying to acheive her goals. We see this multiple times over the course of the series. But if all we had to go by was these two scenes, we might paint a very different picture. 

Because there’s another, more subtle thing that both of these scenes have in common: both times, Zuko chooses to believe that Azula is lying, rather than accept that a parent (read: Ozai, because both of these things are really his fault) has failed him. 

The Beast 

There’s a kind of cognitive bias that often occurs with victims of abuse. Rather than try to explain it, I’ll give an example of a fictional character from a different story who is a very clear example of how and why it happens. 

In book one of Trials of Apollo (The Hidden Oracle), we’re introduced to a girl named Meg McCaffrey. Meg is strong, tough, and great in a fight. She explains that it’s all because of her stepfather, who took her in off the streets and trained her. She seems to genuinely care about him, and talks about him affectionately. 

But there’s another man in Meg’s life: The Beast. The Beast is a constant presence in her nightmares. He killed her first father, and we soon learn that he’s one of the primary antagonists of the story, and planning on destroying the world. 

But eventually, we discover the truth: The Beast and Meg’s stepfather are the same person. 

Meg’s stepfather is an abuser, one who’s used a common tool of abusers everywhere-- detatching from the tool he uses to abuse her and anthromorphizing it. “Don’t make me angry,” he says, “or you’ll wake up The Beast, and then whatever happens is on your head.” 

And because Meg needs to believe that her stepfather cares about her, she projects all her negative feelings about him towards this figmentary “Beast” and blaming him for all the problems in her life. 

Are we noticing the connection to Zuko and his relationship with his father yet? 

My Father Loves Me 

For the first two and a half seasons (especially in season 1), Zuko is convinced that deep down, his father loves him, cares about him, wants him back home. He has to believe that, because if he doesn’t, then what has been the point of everything he’s done until now? 

Which means that tricking him into an Agni Kai and then burning his face must have been justified. It means that capturing the Avatar really will get him back his honor. It means that everything that’s gone wrong in his life is his own fault. 

Or, at least, almost everything. 

You’re Like My Sister 

The first time we ever hear of Azula (other than that shot of her smiling at the Agni Kai in “The Storm”) is when Zuko is talking to (unconcious) Aang after he captures him in “The Siege of the North, Part 2.” 

[ID: Excerpt from the transcript of the ATLA episode “The Siege of the North, Part 2.” Zuko: “I finally have you, but I can't get you home because of this blizzard. [Stands up and looks outside the cave.] There's always something. Not that you would understand. You're like my sister. Everything always came easy to her. She's a firebending prodigy, and everyone adores her. My father says she was born lucky. He says I was lucky to be born. I don't need luck, though. I don't want it. I've always had to struggle and fight and that's made me strong. It's made me who I am.”/ End ID] 

There’s something interesting happening here. This is the first time Zuko’s been able to be totally honest about his feelings around Aang, and what does he do? He starts comparing Aang to, of all people, Azula. He’s projecting. He clearly has all of these negative feelings towards Azula, but he can’t do anything about them. So instead, he’s taking it out on Aang. 

Take every single interaction between Aang and Zuko in season one. Now realize that from Zuko’s perspective, he was dealing with his sister. 

Taking Aang prisoner on his ship? Azula. Constantly trying to capture Aang, only to be outsmarted by him? Azula. Shooting a blast of fire when Aang extends a potential hand of friendship? Azula. 

Because Aang, like Azula, is a perceived obstacle between himself and his father’s love. 

Father Says She Was Born Lucky 

Ozai didn’t just belittle Zuko-- he pitted his children against each other. He made it clear to Zuko that, even from the moment he was born, he would never, ever be as good at his sister. 

And all of this has caused a lot of rage and turmoil inside of Zuko. As self-depricating as he is, he does realize that not everything that’s gone wrong in his life is his fault. But we’ve already established that blaming his father would shatter his worldview. 

So who else does he have to blame? 

Azula. 

Azula, who was born lucky. Azula, who’s just so perfect. Azula, the prodigy. Azula, who everyone adores. Azula, who got everything. Azula, who always lies.  

Azula Always Lies 

Zuko talks a lot about honor. He talks a lot about capturing the Avatar. But when he’s stressed, when he’s feeling pressured, when he’s thinking about all the ways his life has gone wrong, he uses a different mantra. 

[ID: Excerpt from the transcript of the ATLA episode “Zuko Alone.” Young Zuko: “[Chanting in a low voice.] Azula always lies. Azula always lies.” Cut to the older Zuko, lying in green grass, holding his traveler's hat to his chest. Zuko: “Azula always lies.”/ End ID]

Azula always lies. 

”Azula always lies” is comforting. It means “father doesn’t really consider me a miserable failure.” It means “he was never really going to kill me.” 

Instead of getting angry at all the ways his father has failed him, Zuko can just blame it on Azula’s lies. That way he doesn’t ever have to admit the real problem. 

Now, I’m not saying that Azula was a perfect sister, or even a particularly good one. I’m not saying that she never lied, because we know she did. I’m not saying she didn’t hurt him, or trick him, or manipulate him. What I’m saying is that Zuko’s skewed perception has lead him to blame her not only for all the ways she hurt him, but also all the ways Ozai failed him. 

“Okay,” you’re saying. “Say I agree with you. Say we assume that all of his negative feelings that really should have been directed at Ozai were instead directed at Azula. But that doesn’t matter now. Zuko eventually did realize that his father was wrong. They had a whole dramatic confrontation where Zuko told him what a horrible father he was and everything! He’s not projecting anymore, and his current feelings towards his sister should only be indicative of her actions and behaviors. Right?” 

Wrong. 

How Cognitive Bias Works 

Cognitive bias is insidious. It doesn’t just affect one memory, it ripples outwards, affecting all of them. And the vast majority of the time, we don’t even notice it happening. 

Zuko called Ozai out for two things, and two things only. 

[ID: Excerpt from the transcript of the ATLA episode “The Day of Black Sun, Part 2: The Eclipse.” Zuko: “For so long, all I wanted was for you to love me, to accept me. I thought it was my honor I wanted, but really, I was just trying to please you. You, my father, who banished me just for talking out of turn. [Points a broadsword at his father.] My father, who challenged me, a thirteen-year-old boy, to an Agni Kai. [Cuts to shot of Ozai, looking angered.] How could you possibly justify a duel with a child?”/ End ID]

Zuko blames Ozai for his banishment, and for the Agni Kai. That is it. 

To be clear, I am not saying that Zuko thinks Ozai was a perfect father before all of this. Not at all. Zuko is aware that Ozai is “the worst father in the history of fathers.” 

But it isn’t like he’s gone back and inspected every single memory that involved Ozai and pinpointed all of the ways Ozai abuzed, manipulated, and gaslit him. He can’t. That requires both a level of objectivity he hasn’t reached, as well as a frame of reference for what normal looks like. Any victim of abuse-- especially childhood abuse-- will tell you that even though they know they were abused, they will often have or witness random interactions that will leave them thinking, “wait, this is what normally happens in this kind of situation? You mean [x] was also part of the abuse?” 

Not to mention that while Zuko didn’t examine his feelings towards Azula at any point before the finale. He had his epiphany about Ozai, and realized that his father had been wrong, but he’d always thought Azula was wrong. 

So while Zuko is aware that he had a bad father, he hasn’t actually stopped to consider how much of his anger towards his sister is actually about his father. 

(Again, I’m not blaming Zuko. None of this is his fault, any more than he’s at fault for the Air Nomad Genocide or the war. It’s just the reality of his situation.) 

Conclusion 

So what am I saying here? 

I’m saying that Zuko’s perception of his sister-- his anger, his frustration, his understanding of who she is-- is fundamentally biased. I’m saying Zuko isn’t viewing her from her own merits. I’m saying that Zuko doesn’t actually know her. He thinks he does, but he’s wrong. 

I’m adding another thing to the list of reasons why Zuko is not the person to try and help Azula through her trauma. 

I’m giving yet another example of how the fandom’s perception of Azula is also biased-- because the vast majority of our understanding of Azula’s character comes from Zuko. 

And unlike Zuko, we can detach ourselves from the narrative enough to realize that it might be worthwhile to re-examine our view of her.

[nothing-more-than-hot-leaf-juice]

hey i have a question! i’m curious about your opinion bc you always seem to have smart takes on atla meta: does azula underestimate non benders? at first i thought obviously not, since the allies she chose are two non-bending fighters (who have the advantage of often being underestimated). but then again... did she choose mai and ty lee because she thought non benders would defer to her, while other firebenders might challenge her authority? and what about her interactions with sokka? thoughts?

First, this post summarized Azula’s mentality and respect of non-benders perfectly and there’s honestly nothing I can add to it. TLDR (but you really should read, this post is a fantastic bit of analysis/Sokka appreciation): Azula 100% sees the strength of allying herself with nonbenders and recognizes Sokka for not just his fighting abilities, but for his leadership status.

What made Azula an effective antagonist wasn’t her firebending abilities or the people she had backing her up, her strength was in her ability to read and manipulate people. She was a threat because she was smart. Azula was able to conquer Ba Sing Se not because she was a good firebender, but because she was ‘a people person’. Let’s remember, she took command of the Dai Li up from under Long Feng without even having to think about firebending. Some of Azula’s most iconic villain moments were entirely a product of her political charisma. “Don’t flatter yourself, you were never even a player.” “Do the tides command this ship?” “Unless, the Avatar’s alive...all that glory would be turned to shame.” Pure charisma, no bending necessary. 

Long Feng: “And the Fire Nation princess is cooperating?” 

Dai Li agent: “Oh yes. More than cooperating-- she’s really taken charge. She’s terrifying and inspirational at the same time. It’s hard to explain.” 

Azula doesn’t regard people as threats when she knows she can easily manipulate them. That’s the real reason she doesn’t regard Zuko as a threat in the series. In Crossroads of Destiny, she knew that if she just said the right words to push the right buttons in Zuko’s brain, there was no doubt he would join her. From the beginning of season two to the end of season two, Azula knew that all she would have to say to get Zuko in the exact state of mind she wanted him to be in was “father wants you to return home” and “you will have father’s love.” Zuko could have listened to Iroh and joined Aang and Katara, but Azula knew that that was his weakness, his hope that he could regain his honor. He wanted his father’s love and acceptance more than anything and she knew that. So she exploited it and Zuko sided with her. 

She does the same thing with Sokka on the day of the eclipse. Azula recognized him as the leader, could read him as a protector, knew his relationship with Suki, and was able to stop them because she taunted him. She pushed the right buttons. She got him to stop thinking tactically and they never reached Ozai. 

Azula did something similar with Zuko twice in the series by targeting the people he cared about to divert his attention. The first was in The Chase when she was cornered and hit Iroh. Zuko wasn’t going to go after her when Iroh was hurt and she knew that. She does the same thing in Sozin’s Comet when she directs lightning at Katara, knowing not only that this is someone Zuko cares about, but that Zuko would never want someone to get hurt when it’s his fight. He’s always been noble and protective and Azula knew how to use that to her advantage. It wasn’t her firebending that gave her power over Zuko throughout the series, it was her ability to exploit his weaknesses.

Azula knows the power of fire, but what she knows is more important for herself and others is the power of manipulation. She looks at people and gathers two things: 1. what their weaknesses are and 2. how exploiting those weaknesses can benefit her. That’s why she wins. That’s what made her an excellent villain. The fact that she was seemingly always two steps ahead of everyone because she just read people that well. 

And there’s the other aspect where she regards caring as a weakness because that’s what she was taught. She differentiates herself from Zuko, Sokka, and Katara because she sees them as weak for caring. Because in her life, she’s been taught that caring is a weakness that needs to be snuffed out. She watched Iroh lose the siege of Ba Sing Se because of his grief. She watched Zuko get burned and banished because he cared about defenseless soldiers and didn’t want to fight their father. That’s what she believes. Azula expects practicality and ruthlessness because that’s what’s always been expected of her. We see this especially with how she commands Mai and Ty Lee and how she doesn’t hesitate to lock them away when they betray her. She’s been conditioned not to care, not to love. Even if she does, she doesn’t let herself let that affect her decision making. Caring makes you weak; it makes you vulnerable. And that was the last thing Azula wanted to be. 

She surrounded herself by allies who could prove to her that they valued loyalty more than love. She tested Ty Lee’s love for the circus when she got the circus master to set the ring on fire. She tested Mai’s love for her family when she gave her the choice to go through with the hostage trade for her brother. And she tested Zuko’s love for Iroh when she gave him the choice in the catacombs. In each of these instances, she exploited their fears to make them side with her, but in the end they choose love over loyalty, overcoming their fears (but that’s a whole separate post). Azula valued them for their loyalty and their willingness to put feelings aside to do what she wanted, but that didn’t last. 

Azula does think she’s stronger and smarter, but not because of her firebending, it’s because she doesn't care as much. She considers herself a pragmatist, not bound by love for other people. Mostly because she internalized the notion that she was never going to get it. Azula believed she was a monster. Unlovable. So she decided that those who did rely on love to keep them going and to make them strong were the weak ones. She convinced herself that “fear was the only reliable way” because it was easier to believe that she was right and that she was going to be victorious rather than confront the fact that she was alone. 

Mirror Ursa: “I think you’re confused. All your life you’ve used fear to control people. Like your friends Mai and Ty Lee.” 

Azula: “Well what choice did I have? Trust is for fools. Fear is the only reliable way. Even you fear me.” 

Mirror Ursa: “No I love you Azula. I do.” 

That’s why she’s dangerous and that’s why she’s tragic. Azula’s wasn’t bound by people the way anyone else was. She wasn’t going to jump in front of lighting to save her friend or lose a siege over grief. Azula lived in a perpetual competition and in order to win --win her father’s favoritism, win battles, win the throne-- she didn’t give herself room to care. That’s why she thought she was better than her opponents. And Azula only thought she was worth anything if she was winning.

Azula wanted to be perfect. She wasn’t give a choice but to be perfect. And if she cared, if she let love for other people cloud her judgement or if she let herself rely on others who would inevitably think she was unlovable, then she would lose. And in the end, the isolation and the emptiness were two of the major factors that drove her into the deep end. And she didn’t have anyone there to save her from drowning. 

[kingandfireheart]

The Lady of the Autumn Court: what the fuck is happening in Autumn (part 2)

As I said in my Eris Vanserra post, it seems that the Lady of the Autumn Court is a bigger piece to the Eris and Lucien puzzles.

We don't know what the fuck has been happening in the Forest House but we do the following:

The Lady of the Autumn Court is/was extremely powerful

Lucien (and to some extent Eris) are mama's boys (even though Lucien has been exiled for centuries)

The Lady met Helion before she was married to Beron

At least one of the seven brothers - Lucien - is Helion's child, but Helion saved the Lady after she had already had some kids (so Eris probably isn't his, even though they both have amber eyes)

The Lady chose to stay with Beron

Beron is aware of the affair between Helion and the Lady

Beron is physically abusive towards the Lady and had tortured Eris

Helion does not know Lucien is his heir, but Eris seems to know Lucien isn't Beron's son

Things that aren't mentioned below the cut, but are interesting:

Eris is the ringleader of the brothers, the commander of Beron's forces, and is Beron's most trusted son (the other three don't even have names)

In ACOWAR, Eris says has never denied Beron anything - except to save Lucien - but is angling for the throne and betraying him in ACOFAS and ACOSF (this reminds me of Lorcan betraying Maeve for her own good in TOG)

Beron wanted to kill Lucien for wanting to leave Autumn and marry Jesminda (this doesn't seem like a good reason if he isn't in line for the throne - or isn't part of their bloodline, but I guess Beron doesn't need a reason to be cruel)

Helion alludes to having trouble at home in ACOSF

The remaining unnamed brothers are all angling for the throne (this reminds me of the Khaganate in TOG and the Cruel Prince)

I got a little carried away with the color coding, but here's every major scene involving and discussing the Lady of the Autumn Court (and some breadcrumbs because I'm convinced SJM is purposeful in her writing)

Rhysand uses the Lady of the Autumn Court taunt Lucien in ACOTAR:

Rhysand’s venom-coated smile grew. “You draw blood from me, Lucien, and you’ll learn how quickly Amarantha’s whore can make the entire Autumn Court bleed. Especially its darling Lady.” The color leached from Lucien’s face, but he held his ground. It was Tamlin who answered. “Put your sword down, Lucien.” Rhysand ran an eye over me. “I knew you liked to stoop low with your lovers, Lucien, but I never thought you’d actually dabble with mortal trash.” My face burned. Lucien was trembling—with rage or fear or sorrow, I couldn’t tell. “The Lady of the Autumn Court will be grieved indeed when she hears of her youngest son. If I were you, I’d keep your new pet well away from your father.”

The Lady of the Autumn Court also helps Feyre with one of her tasks:

A door clicked open somewhere down the hall, and I shot to my feet. An auburn head peered at me. I sagged with relief. Lucien— Not Lucien. The face that turned toward me was female—and unmasked. She looked perhaps a bit older than Amarantha, but her porcelain skin was exquisitely colored, graced with the faintest blush of rose along her cheeks. Had the red hair not been indication enough, when her russet eyes met mine, I knew who she was. I bowed my head to the Lady of the Autumn Court, and she inclined her chin slightly. I supposed that was honor enough. “For giving her your name in place of my son’s life,” she said, her voice as sweet as sun-warmed apples. She must have been in the crowd that day. She pointed at the bucket with a long, slender hand. “My debt is paid.” She disappeared through the door she’d opened, and I could have sworn I smelled roasting chestnuts and crackling fires in her wake.

Rhys (while wearing the mask of hte High Lord) uses her to taunt Lucien again in ACOMAF:

“Little Lucien,” Rhys purred. “Didn’t the Lady of the Autumn Court ever tell you that when a woman says no, she means it?”

“Prick,” Lucien snarled, storming past his sentinels, but not daring to touch his weapons. “You filthy, whoring prick.”

Lucien explaining how he was treated since Beron may suspect he's Helion's heir and as we know from Tamlin: future high lords have physical markers:

His jaw tightened. “As the youngest of seven sons, I wasn’t particularly needed or wanted. Perhaps it was a good thing. I was able to study for longer than my father allowed my brothers before shoving them out the door to rule over some territory within our lands, and I could train for as long as I liked, since no one believed I’d be dumb enough to kill my way up the long list of heirs. And when I grew bored with studying and fighting … I learned what I could of the land from its people. Learned about the people, too.”

“I’d say that sounds more High-Lord-like than the life of an idle, unwanted son.”

A long, steely look. “Did you think it was mere hatred that prompted my brothers to do their best to break and kill me?”

This may not relate to the Lady of the Autumn Court's relationship with Helion, but I'm gathering all the crumbs (why does Eris hesitate before calling his brothers brothers?)

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

Eris’s pale face flushed. “I was given an order. And sent to do it with two of my … brothers.”

Eris has no love for Beron (he literally asks Rhys to kill him), but he does seem to protect the Lady during the High Lord's Meeting:

“If you want proof that we are not scheming with Hybern,” Rhysand said blandly to them all, “consider the fact that it would be far less time-consuming to slice into your minds and make you do my bidding.”

Only Beron was stupid enough to scoff. Eris was just angling his body in his chair—blocking the path to his mother.

Helion and Lady of Autumn lock eyes:

The violence simmering off my friends was enough to boil the pool at our toes as the High Lord of Autumn filed through the archway, his sons in rank behind him, his wife��Lucien’s mother—at his side. Her russet eyes scanned the room, as if looking for that missing son.

They settled instead on Helion, who gave her a mocking incline of his dark head. She quickly averted her gaze.

The High Lords discuss the past war:

(also reminder: Eris has Amber Eyes like Helion)

Helion shrugged, the sun catching in the embroidered gold thread of his tunic. “Indeed, though it seems Tamlin is already ahead of me. The Spring Court must be evacuated.” His amber eyes darted between Tarquin and Beron. “Surely your northern neighbors will welcome them.”

Beron’s lip curled. “We do not have the resources for such a thing.”

“Right,” Viviane said, “because everyone’s too busy polishing every jewel in that trove of yours.”

Beron threw her a glare that had Kallias tensing. “Wives were invited as a courtesy, not as consultants.”

Viviane’s sapphire eyes flared as if struck by lightning. “If this war goes poorly, we’ll be bleeding out right alongside you, so I think we damn well get a say in things.”

“Hybern will do far worse things than kill you,” Beron counted coolly. “A young, pretty thing like you especially.”

Kallias’s snarl rippled the water in the reflection pool, echoed by Mor’s own growl.

Beron smiled a bit. “Only three of us were present for the last war.” A nod to Rhys and Helion, whose face darkened. “One does not easily forget what Hybern and the Loyalists did to captured females in their war-camps. What they reserved for High Fae females who either fought for the humans or had families who did.” He put a heavy hand on his wife’s too-thin arm. “Her two sisters bought her time to run when Hybern’s forces ambushed their lands. The two ladies did not walk out of that war-camp again.” Helion was watching Beron closely, his stare simmering with reproach.

The Lady of the Autumn Court kept her focus on the reflection pool. Any trace of color drained from her face. Dagdan and Brannagh flashed through my mind—along with the corpses of those humans. What they’d done to them before and after they’d died

After Nesta makes her speech:

She looked to Beron and his family as she finished. Only the Lady and Eris seemed to be considering—impressed, even, by the strange, simmering woman before them.

After Azriel attacks Eris:

Beron struck—only for his fire to bounce off a hard barrier of my own. I lifted my gaze to the High Lord of Autumn. “That’s twice now we’ve handed you your asses. I’d think you’d be sick of the humiliation.”

Helion laughed

---

Eris, wisely, averted his eyes. And said, “Apologies, Morrigan.”

His father actually gawked at the words. But something like approval shone on the Lady of Autumn’s face as her eldest son settled himself once more.

Thesan rubbed his temples. “This does not bode well.”

But Helion smirked at his retinue, crossing an ankle over a knee and flashing those powerful, sleek thighs. “Looks like you owe me ten gold marks.”

Feyre loses her shit:

Beron shielded barely fast enough to block me, but the wake singed Eris’s arm—right through the cloth. And the pale, lovely arm of Lucien’s mother.

---

The Lady of Autumn was clutching her arm, angry red splattered along the moon-white skin. No glimmer of pain on that face, though. I said to her as I reclaimed my seat, “I’m sorry.”

Her eyes lifted toward mine, round as saucers.

Beron spat, “Don’t talk to her, you human filth.”

Helion tells the story of the Affair:

Helion tapped a finger against the carved arm of his couch. “He played games in the War and it cost him—dearly. His people still remember those choices—those losses. His own damn wife remembers.”

Helion had looked at the Lady of Autumn repeatedly during the meeting. I asked, carefully and casually, “What do you mean?”

--

Helion’s jaw clenched. “The Lady of the Autumn Court was sent to stay with her sisters, her younger children packed off to other relatives. To spread out the bloodline.” He dragged a hand through his sable hair. “Hybern attacked their estate. Her sisters bought her time to run. Not because she was married to Beron, but because they loved each other. Fiercely. She tried to stay, but they convinced her to go. So she did—she ran and ran, but Hybern’s beasts were still faster. Stronger. They cornered her at a ravine, where she became trapped atop a ledge, the beasts snapping at her feet

--

Helion didn’t so much as shift in his chair. “She was still young—though she’d been married to that delightful male for nearly two decades. Married too young, the marriage arranged when she was twenty.”

---

But it was Mor who said coolly, “I heard a rumor once, Helion, that she waited before agreeing to that marriage. For a certain someone who had met her by chance at an equinox ball the year before.”

I tried not to blink, not to let any of my rising interest surface.

The fire banked to embers and Helion threw a half smile in Mor’s direction. “Interesting. I heard her family wanted internal ties to power, and that they didn’t give her a choice before they sold her to Beron.”

--

“How long did the affair last?” I asked. That withdrawn female … I couldn’t imagine it.

Helion snorted. “Is that a polite question for a High Lady to be asking?”

But the way he spoke, that smile … I only waited, using silence to push him instead.

Helion shrugged. “On and off for decades. Until Beron found out. They say the lady was all brightness and smiles before that. And after Beron was through with her … You saw what she is.”

“What did he do to her?”

“The same things he does now.” Helion waved a hand. “Belittle her, leave bruises where no one but him will see them.”

I clenched my teeth. “If you were her lover, why didn’t you stop it?” The wrong thing to say. Utterly wrong, by the dark fury that rippled across Helion’s face.

“Beron is a High Lord, and she is his wife, mother of his brood. She chose to stay. Chose. And with the protocols and rules, Lady, you will find that most situations like the one you were in do not end well for those who interfere.

I didn’t back down, didn’t apologize. “You barely even looked at her today.”

“We have more important matters at hand.”

“Beron never called you out for it?”

“To publicly do so would be to admit that his possession made a fool of him. So we continue our little dance, these centuries later.” I somehow doubted that beneath that roguish charm and irreverence, Helion felt it was a dance at all.

But if it had ended centuries ago, and she’d never seen him again, had let Beron treat her so abominably …

The Lucien Paternity Revelation:

While we spoke, I said down the bond, Helion is Lucien’s father. Rhys was silent. Then— Holy burning hell. His shock was a shooting star between us.

I let my gaze dart through the room, half paying attention to Helion’s musing on the wall and how to repair it, then dared study the High Lord for a heartbeat. Look at him. The nose is the same, the smile. The voice. Even Lucien’s skin is darker than his brothers’. A golden brown compared to their pale coloring.

It would explain why his father and brothers detest him so much—why they have tormented him his entire life.

My heart squeezed at that. And why Eris didn’t want him dead. He wasn’t a threat to Eris’s power—his throne. I swallowed. Helion has no idea, does he?

It would seem not.

The Lady of Autumn’s favorite son—not only from Lucien’s goodness. But because he was the child she’d dreamed of having … with the male she undoubtedly loved.

Beron must have discovered the affair when she was pregnant with Lucien.

He likely suspected, but there was no way to prove it—not if she was sharing his bed, too. Rhys’s disgust was a tang in my mouth. I have no doubt Beron debated killing her for the betrayal, and even afterward. When Lucien could be passable as his own of spring—just enough to make him doubt who had sired his last son.

I wrapped my head around it. Lucien not Beron’s son, but Helion’s. His power is flame, though. They’ve mused Beron’s title could go to him.

His mother’s family is strong—that was why Beron wanted a bride from their line. The gift could be hers.

You never suspected?

Not once. I’m mortified I didn’t even consider it.

What does this mean, though?

Nothing—ultimately nothing. Other than the fact that Lucien might be Helion’s sole heir

[impossiblycolorfulpanda]

ATLA - TDOBS Remake

Here’s a remake of the diologue between Zuko and Ozai in the tdobs episode but this time Azula, Mai and Ty Lee are there.

Azula: “Father, the invading enemies have been driven out, they are on the run but I know they’ll be back.”

Ozai: “Excellent but would you explain to me how the avatar survived Zuko’s attack?”

Zuko: “Let me explain this.”

Zuko shows up and surprises everyone.

Ozai: “Well? Explain yourself.”

Zuko: “First of all, in Ba Sing Se, it was Azula who took down the Avatar, not me.”

Ozai: “Why would she lie to me about that?”

Azula felt fear take over and was signaling Zuko to shut up.

Zuko: “Because of me.”

Ozai: “Hm, what are you talking about?”

Zuko: “She disobeyed your orders to hunt me down and imprison me, she gave me a second chance to fight with her and I accepted. She then asked me if I knew, in any way, that the avatar could still be alive. I lied to her and said ‘no,’ so she lied to you about what happened, that way if Aang did reveal he was alive, you’d think I’d be responsible and you’d cast me out again.”

Ozai turned to Azula with fury who looked back with sheer terror.

Ozai: “You really believe that I would be that stupid?”

Azula: “I...I can explain...”

Zuko: “She was doing what she thought was right, in her own way she was still loyal to you.”

Ozai: “The three of you begone. I’ll be sure to remind her of such importance.”

Zuko: “That's another thing. None of us are taking orders from you anymore.”

Ozai: “Excuse me?!”

Zuko: “I am going to speak my mind, and you are going to listen. For so long, Azula and I wanted you to love us, to accept us. We fought each other constantly for your favor, you pinned us against each other so that only one of us gets your approval. I thought it was my honor I wanted, but really, I was just trying to please you. You, my father, who banished me just for talking out of turn. My father, who challenged me, a thirteen-year-old boy, to an Agni Kai. [Cuts to shot of Ozai, looking angered.] How could you possibly justify a duel with a child?”

Ozai: “It was to teach you respect!”

Azula “(nods) mmm-hmm.”

Zuko: “It was cruel, it was wrong and your the last person to judge Azula about lying!”

Ozai: “Then you’ve learned nothing.”

Zuko: “No, I've learned everything! And I've had to learn it on my own! Growing up, we were taught that the Fire Nation was the greatest civilization in history. And somehow, the War was our way of sharing our greatness with the rest of the world. What an amazing lie that was. The people of the world are terrified by the Fire Nation. They don't see our greatness. They hate us! And we deserve it! We've created an era of fear in the world. And if we don't want the world to destroy itself we need to replace it with an era of peace and kindness.”

Azula was left confused by his words, Mai rolled his eyes at Zuko for his sentiments and Ty Lee listened, eyes wide.

Ozai: “(Laughs) Your uncle has gotten to you, hasn’t he?”

Zuko: “Yes, he has.”

Mai: “Hold on, you said he was the last person to judge Azula about lying. What do you mean by that.”

Zuko: “Do any of you know the real reason how my mother and father met, what really happened Fire lord Sozin and Avatar Roku? Why Sozin wiped out the air nomads?”

Azula: “How many times do I gotta tell you, idiot? Mother was a noble woman and father took a liking to her. Fire lord Sozin famously waited for the comet, later renamed Sozin's Comet, and used its power to launch his full-scale invasion of the world. He did it to share this prosperity with the rest of the world.  In our hands is the most successful empire in history. It was time we expanded it. He started with wiping out the barbaric military of the air nation army.”

Zuko: “You’re wrong, it’s all a lie. I know because I went to the dragon catacombs.”

Azula and Ty Lee gasped while Mai and Ozai raised their eyebrows with surprise.

Ty Lee: “But I thought it was forbidden to go their.”

Zuko: “It was forbidden so that none of us could find out (to Ozai) his dirty little secrets. Sozin knew Avatar Roku personally, they were close friends, about as inseparable as the three of you. He wanted Roku to join him in his delusional and ego-driven quest to conquer the world, Roku declined the offer and Sozin betrayed him, left him to die. The air nomads never had a military, they were peacemakers who were slaughtered by ambush. Innocent and defenseless men, women and children, gone. My parents never met by accident, grandfather Azulon arranged the whole thing because he and father found out that my mother’s grand father was avatar Roku himself.”

Azula and Ty Lee gasped again, Mai’s mouth dropped with shock. Ozai clutched his fists with fury.

Azula: “No! Your wrong!”

Ozai: “Since we’re letting the cat out of the bag now, don't you want to know what happened to your mother?”

Zuko: “What happened that night?”

Ozai: “My father, Fire Lord Azulon, had commanded me to do the unthinkable to you, my own son, and I was going to do it. Your mother found out and swore she would protect you at any cost. She knew I wanted the throne and she proposed a plan, a plan in which I would become Fire Lord and your life would be spared. Your mother did vicious, treasonous things that night. She knew the consequences and accepted them. For her treason, she was banished.”

Zuko: “So she’s alive?”

Ozai: “Perhaps.”

Zuko turns to Azula. A part of him feels the urge to smile.

Zuko: “You knew about this.”

Azula: “You said enough.”

Zuko: “You tried warning me, and when I never believed you, you told mom instead. You were helping me even from back then.”

Azula: “Shut up!”

Zuko: “I was wrong about you. Uncle was wrong about you.”

Azula: “Shut up!”

Zuko: “(Back to Ozai)  After I leave here today, I'm gonna free Uncle Iroh from his prison and I'm gonna beg for his forgiveness. He's the one who's been a real father to me.”

Ozai: “Oh, that's just beautiful. And maybe he can pass down to you the ways of tea and failure.”

Zuko: “But I've come to an even more important decision. I'm going to join the Avatar and I'm going to help him defeat you.”

Azula was feeling heartbroken that Zuko was gonna leave her but she knew she couldn’t show it in front of Ozai. Zuko than turned to look at her, Mai and Ty Lee all at once.

Zuko: “You three can do the same.”

Mai: “What?”

Zuko: “None of you have to obey him anymore, you can make your own destiny. The avatar and his team will be hesitant to trust us but they know they’ll need all the help they can get after today. (To Azula) The avatar has yet to know firebending, with our knowledge, we can teach him so much.”

Mai: “Do you realize what you’re doing? What your asking us to do?”

Zuko: “I’m asking for your help to save our country.”

Mai: “Save it? You’re betraying our country!”

Zuko: “That’s not how I see it. I’m not gonna force you to help me. Are any of you with me or against me?”

Ozai looked at them, curious about their choice. Azula and Mai froze on what to do next, Ty Lee began moving towards Zuko.

Azula: “Ty Lee? What are you doing? Get back here at once!”

Ty Lee: “I’m sorry guys. I knew there was something wrong with this place the minute Zuko got kicked out, I guess that’s the real reason why I left for the circus the day after that incident.”

Mai noticed Ty Lee grab Zuko’s forearm. She lit her eyes, clutched her fist and gritted her teeth with raw fury and contempt.

Mai: “You...YOU!”

Mai was about to charge after them but Azula stopped her.

Ty Lee: “I don’t want to hurt you, so don’t try and stop me.”

Ozai: “Hmph. Since you're a couple of full-blown traitors now and you want me gone, I now realize that banishment is far too merciful a penalty for treason. Your penalties will be far steeper.”

Ozai began to lightningbend.

Zuko: “(To Ty Lee) Get back!”

Zuko moved towards Ozai.

Ty Lee: “No!”

Ozai fired a bolt at Zuko, Zuko slides back several feet from the impact of the bolt, yet manages to redirect it, sending it back to right in front of Ozai. In a split second, Ozai bent over backwards to dodge the bolt it hit the wall behind him.

Ty Lee: “Wow! How’d you do that?”

Zuko: “Long story, let’s go!”

Zuko grabbed Ty Lee’s wrist and made their escape.

Azula stomped on the floor with anger.

Azula: “Should we go after them, father?”

Ozai: “No, they have too much of a head start. But we’ll see them again soon.”

[robininthelabyrinth]

Tedious Joys - Chapter 7 -

- Ao3 link -

“You could have mentioned that your father likes to kiss his saber,” Lan Qiren hissed at Nie Mingjue, who flailed helplessly as both of them tried to whisper outside of Lao Nie’s hearing – a task only rendered possible from the fact that he was currently scrubbing his hair extremely vigorously to get rid of all the dirt and grime, Lan Qiren’s extended hand firmly on his back. The jade pendant was back to hanging at his waist, since hasty experimentation had revealed that the physical contact with Lan Qiren was the key aspect, although the jade pendant seemed key as well - removing it appeared to make the contact less effective.

“He didn’t, did he? Are you all right?” Nie Mingjue asked, and he looked so serious and earnest about it, like he was going to march up to his father right then and there and challenge him over Lan Qiren’s honor or something if Lan Qiren implied that he should, that Lan Qiren’s irritation faded away at once.

“Only on the hand,” Lan Qiren assured him. “He didn’t take any liberties.”

That last part was more of a joke than anything else – however intimate Lao Nie was with her, Jiwei was still a saber – but Nie Mingjue looked alarmed. “You’ll say something if he does anything you’re uncomfortable with, right?” he asked anxiously, and Lan Qiren stared at him.

“Nie Mingjue,” he said stiffly, attempting to quell a little bit of possibly hysterical and definitely inappropriate laughter. “Is there something you need to tell me about you and Baxia…?”

“Tell you – oh! No, no, nothing like that,” Nie Mingjue said, turning bright red. “That’s not what I meant, Teacher Lan! Really, I swear!”

Lao Nie poked his head out of the water briefly to look at them both suspiciously, but accepted it when Lan Qiren shook his head at him and turned back away.

Nie Mingjue waited until his father was distracted to continue whispering. “I just meant – our sabers may be our partners, but it’s not…it’s not an equal distribution of authority, you know? In the end, they’re the weapons and we’re the masters.”

Lan Qiren frowned, finally understanding the nature of Nie Mingjue’s concern, and it was much more astute than he’d initially thought. “I see. So if Baxia refused to cultivate with you…?”

Nie Mingjue shifted uncomfortably from side to side. “Well, I mean, I wouldn’t, personally,” he said. “She’s my friend. But A-die’s always saying I’m too soft on her, that I need to take her more firmly in hand, so…I don’t know. It’d definitely be a few days before he forces the issue – uh, that is – I mean – not that he’d ever –”

“It won’t come to that,” Lan Qiren assured him. “A few days will give us enough time to come up with a plan, and at any rate I would not allow him to mistreat me.”

Nie Mingjue looked relieved, which was a flattering if perhaps not entirely accurate reflection of how strong he believed Lan Qiren to be.

“A good night’s rest will help more than anything,” Lan Qiren continued. “For him, and for you. I suggest you take advantage of it at once – actual sleep, not meditation.”

Nie Mingjue nodded again. “But he’s going to be all right?” he asked, anxious. “Eventually?”

Lan Qiren glanced at his friend, happily humming some bawdy song and appearing likely about to break out into actual singing at any moment, and felt a pain in his chest at the thought of what might be necessary.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I really don’t know. We’ll do everything we can for him.”

Nie Mingjue accepted that, taking a deep breath and centering himself, then striding away – he would probably go and do some work before he actually retired, rather than actually go straight to sleep, but Lan Qiren did not call him out on it. There was still a chance that Nie Mingjue would end up as sect leader, and then he wouldn’t have a choice in it at all.

After being tormented briefly by some rather off-key singing and extremely dubious lyrical choices, Lan Qiren found himself bundled off to Lao Nie’s quarters and into his bed, with Lao Nie curling up quite happily against his back.

“There are rules about judging other people,” Lan Qiren mumbled, staring at the wall and ignoring the feeling of Lao Nie’s chin on his shoulder. It was pointy, and they didn’t quite fit – Lan Qiren was the just barely taller of the two, although Lao Nie was broader, and his arms were heavy around him – and all in all Lan Qiren was not especially enjoying the experience of sharing a bed any more than he had any of the previous times it had been forced upon him by necessity, luckily small in number. “I am currently breaking it. I will need to think of a suitable punishment for myself later.”

“Judging me, sweetheart?” Lao Nie said into his ear, sounding amused. “What did I do?”

“Sleep in the same bed as an extremely sharp and angry blade, apparently.”

“Only when you’re angry at me,” Lao Nie said, completely shameless. Lan Qiren really didn’t know why he’d been expecting anything different, really. “You know, it’s much easier to hold you in my arms when you’re like this, all soft, even if your hips are a bit knobby. I like it.”

Lan Qiren sighed.

The next morning, Lan Qiren woke at the prescribed time and performed his morning ablutions in the time before Lao Nie woke, settling himself down beside the bed to play calming music and think about what could be behind Lao Nie’s current fixation on believing that he was Jiwei.

He thought it must have something to do with the jade pendant he had cultivated on Lao Nie’s behalf. Indeed, now that he thought about it, that might in fact be the problem – he had cultivated the pendant, not Lao Nie, and he had done it using Jiwei’s spiritual energy. A Nie saber had only one master, but he had apparently won enough of Jiwei’s respect for her to allow him access to some part of her; just as Lao Nie had intertwined himself with his saber, so to had Lan Qiren, albeit unknowingly and at a distance. There was certainly no overly intimate sharing of qi between them, but they had an undeniable connection. That might explain it.

There was also the ongoing mystery of why the pendant burned so fiercely. It had always been reactive to Jiwei’s anger, full of her spiritual energy and spillover rage as it was, but Jiwei was gone – shattered. Whose energy was powering it now? And how could it maintain such a high level of energy, so hot as to damage someone like Lan Qiren, who while not martially inclined was still a powerful cultivator in his own right?

He had more questions than answers.

Unfortunately, he did not have a great deal of time to find answers. If Lao Nie’s condition persisted – he hoped that it wouldn’t, that his friend would wake knowing who Lan Qiren was and not in a horrible rage, but he wasn’t optimistic – they would need to find a solution, and fast. Lao Nie was the unquestioned master of his sect and even he’d only managed to leave it behind for a month and a half before his duties forced him to return; Lan Qiren was a substitute for his brother, a pale and inferior custodian put in place solely to fill the time between the generations, and his sect elders would never let him forget it. There was no way he would be able to stay away so long.

And if he left…

“Jiwei,” Lao Nie murmured in his sleep, which had become restless. His face had gone from a neutral expression to a frown, twisted in anger and pain, and when he opened his eyes, they were once again red. The music was not helping. “My saber – Jiwei…where is my saber?” Lao Nie struggled to sit up. “Where is it? Give her to me!”

Lan Qiren stopped playing and reached out his hand, interlocking his fingers with Lao Nie’s as if they were back once again to all those years ago when he had been a slow, stuttering child and Lao Nie a kind young adult, taking him in hand to show him the basics of night-hunting without worrying about him falling over his own feet.

He watched as the red slowly faded out of Lao Nie’s eyes – not gone entirely, still there, a thin pink film that seemed as though it could be blinked out of existence.

He sighed.

“My friend,” he said. “I am going to need your help with this.”

“Anything,” Lao Nie said, then paused and amended to, “Anything that won’t cause undue harm.”

“It involves research.”

“…one could argue that that would be undue harm to my ability to enjoy my free time.”

Lan Qiren shook his hand lightly. “You are in need of healing. Do you understand what I am saying?”

The humor slowly faded out of Lao Nie’s face.

“You had a qi deviation,” Lan Qiren said bluntly. “The one you’ve been afraid of, the one you always knew was coming – it happened. You went mad, years before your time. But you did not die, and so there is still hope…but I will need your help. I will need you to try to get better. I cannot do this without you.”

Lao Nie looked at him, lips pressed together tightly.

Lan Qiren waited, patient. Whatever the reason for it, Lao Nie regained much of his clarity when they were in contact – and if he could think, he could be an ally in this. He would have to be.

“The strangers weren’t strangers, were they,” Lao Nie said abruptly, and it wasn’t a question. Lan Qiren looked at him. “A-Jue…I was the one who did that to him, wasn’t I? I was the one that hurt him. That’s why you wouldn’t tell me about it yesterday.”

Lan Qiren nodded.

Lao Nie looked away, angry – real anger, this time, and entirely self-directed – but it was only a few moments before he collected himself and looked back, his eyes bright with tears but fiercely determined. “What can I do to help?”

“For now, answer my questions, no matter how unusual,” Lan Qiren instructed, and Lao Nie nodded. “First question: who am I?”

“…Jiwei.”

They were still there, then, although Lao Nie sounded much less sure about it than he had the night before. Lan Qiren fumbled for the pendant at his waist. “Can you sense the spiritual energy in this? Whose is it?”

Lao Nie reached for the pendant and focused. “Also Jiwei.” This time, he sounded more confident.

“The energy in the pendant exceeds what I previously put in there,” Lan Qiren said. “Do you know why?”

Lao Nie frowned down at the pendant. “I’m not sure,” he said. “Have you cultivated with it recently?”

Lan Qiren arched his eyebrows, think that that would be rather difficult without Jiwei around to transfer energy from. “No, I haven’t. Why?”

“There’s something strange about it, that’s all.” He shook the pendant lightly. “Familiar. Same as you, but not; same as me, but not. It wants to fly.”

Lan Qiren stared at him blankly.

Lao Nie shrugged and scratched at his beard. “What did A-Jue say about it?”

“…Mingjue?” Lan Qiren asked blankly. “Say? About what?”

Lao Nie blinked at him. “Well, he’s the only other one with a similar pendant, right?”

Actually, Lan Qiren had made one for little Nie Huaisang, too – he used it as the base of his fan tassel, transferred from one fan to another – but it wasn’t really relevant to him yet, weak cultivator that he was. But that was a good point: in his fear for Nie Mingjue’s health, his worry for his safety, he had forgotten that Nie Mingjue was the closest thing they had to another perspective on the connection between pendant and saber.

Lan Qiren frowned at his oversight. “I’ll ask Mingjue to join us.”

Nie Mingjue looked better already, even if Lan Qiren’s heart hurt at how cautious he was around his father, at how Lao Nie could barely stand to look at the colorful bruises littering his son’s face. “What can I do?”

“Take this pendant,” Lao Nie said, holding it out.

Nie Mingjue extended his hand in return and Lao Nie dropped the pendant into it before Lan Qiren could intervene and point out why it was a terrible idea to just hand it over to someone who was both unprepared and little more than a child, however talented a genius he might be. The second it touched Nie Mingjue’s palm, he yelped and nearly dropped it, Lan Qiren snatching it away from him with his free hand before it could fall to the floor.

“It hurts!” he exclaimed, as Lan Qiren might have expected.

What he did not expect, however, was that Baxia abruptly drew herself, hurtling out of her sheath to hang in midair, emanating the distinct sensation of rage that was the characteristic of a Nie saber.

The pendant abruptly flared up, the heat in it rising as if in response to Baxia’s challenge, and Lan Qiren had to temporarily free himself from Lao Nie to quickly loop a guqin string through the pendant, letting it dangle away from his flesh, and then returned his hand to his friend before the red got too far into his eyes.

“What in the world is going on?” he demanded. “Lao Nie – explain.”

“I have no idea,” Lao Nie said, rubbing his eyes as if he realized something had happened to him in the brief interlude where they were separated. “They’re…fighting. I think? How can they be fighting? Why would a saber start a fight with a piece of jade?”

“Can you ask Baxia?” Lan Qiren asked Nie Mingjue, who was still clutching at his hand and looking blankly at them both. “I know it doesn’t exactly work as cleanly as all that, but your father always said you had an unusually strong connection…”

Nie Mingjue reached out and caught Baxia by the hilt, brow creased in a frown. “It really doesn’t work that way, Teacher Lan. All I can tell is that she’s angry.” He hesitated. “She feels betrayed.”

“Betrayed?” Lan Qiren asked, surprised. “But – how can she be betrayed? That would imply an initial association, familiarity, that something changed…”

“Jiwei,” Lao Nie suddenly said. He was staring at the pendant swinging in Lan Qiren’s hand. “Jiwei’s in the pendant.”

Nie Mingjue glanced at Lan Qiren, clearly concerned that his father had simply started seeing Jiwei in everything, but Lan Qiren bit his lip, thinking it over seriously.

He had initially thought that the reason for Lao Nie’s mistaken impression of him was because he had cultivated with the pendant using Jiwei’s energy, acting in Lao Nie’s place, and thereby he had been imprinted with the qi of the saber, that it had been that shadow upon him that Lao Nie had recognized.

But what if he had thought about it backwards?

“Is it possible,” he said slowly, wishing he knew more about the saber spirits, wishing that he’d had more time, wishing even that his Xinfei could speak as clearly as a saber could, “Mingjue, is it possible that Jiwei’s spirit is in the pendant? The saber spirit itself, I mean, as opposed to the physical saber?”

Nie Mingjue goggled at him. “In the pendant, Teacher Lan? A saber? But how?”

“I tied the two together using resonance,” Lan Qiren explained. Poor tone-deaf Nie Mingjue had never really understood what he was doing with his music, which Lan Qiren couldn’t blame him for – it was esoteric even by musical cultivation standards. He’d more or less made the entire thing up over the past few years. “Adjusting the internal music of the jade to match Jiwei, so that the two recognized each other – and, once recognized, forged a connection between them. That’s what allowed me to continue to draw out Jiwei’s anger even from a distance.”

Both Nie nodded, listening intently. Good students, both of them, for all their occasional faults; if only he had three dozen like them. As a teacher, it was the highest compliment he knew to speak.

“The unusual heat started, as far as we can tell, when the saber shattered,” he continued, now thinking out loud. “If Jiwei’s anger can transfer from one container to the other through the pathway forged by the resonance, why couldn’t the rest of her spirit do the same? Why couldn’t she come to possess the jade if she so wished?”

He wasn’t sure what to do with that idea, in all fairness – he might speak of questioning the sabers, might have reluctantly accepted them as having some form of sentience, but the idea of an entire spirit transferring from one body to another within the same lifetime in a method not unlike possession was rather disturbing. But at the same time he couldn’t imagine any other reason for Baxia to try to challenge a jade pendant to a duel.

Proud, strong Baxia, the only match to Nie Mingjue’s matchless talent, so fearsome that even other saber spirits yielded before her…

“But –” Nie Mingjue glanced sidelong at his father. “Teacher Lan, he also thinks you’re Jiwei.”

“Because I cultivated the pendant,” Lan Qiren said, because it made a certain amount of sense. “There are two types of spiritual energy in there: Jiwei’s and my own. Perhaps when I offered him the pendant, he recognized Jiwei in there, and also me, and thereby conflated the two…”

“I’m right here, you know,” Lao Nie interjected. “Being talked about as if I’m not.”

Lan Qiren leveled a quelling look at him.

Lao Nie gave him an arch look in return. “Just reminding you that I understand spoken speech, in the event you’ve forgotten.”

“Very well,” Lan Qiren said tetchily. “In that case, who I am again?”

Lao Nie paused, eyes traveling between Lan Qiren, the pendant dangling from his hand, and Nie Mingjue.

“You feel like Jiwei,” he said hesitantly. “But – the strangers felt like strangers, and weren’t. So you’re – not Jiwei. You’re…” He glanced at Nie Mingjue again, seeking external confirmation that his senses were misleading him; Nie Mingjue nodded eagerly. His gaze slide back to Lan Qiren. “Qiren?”

“Well done,” Lan Qiren said, full of relief. “Full marks, passing grade. Would it be possible for you to stop calling me ‘sweetheart’ and ‘darling’ now?”

Lao Nie – despite being the shameless scoundrel that he was – abruptly flushed bright red, while Nie Mingjue covered his face with his hands.

“I understand, of course,” Lan Qiren assured him. “What passes between a man and his spiritual weapon is very private, and –”

“Stop talking,” Lao Nie growled. “Just – stop talking.”

[genshin-impacted]

empress of the first water // Zhongli x Reader (2)

Word Count: 1.8k

Palace/Harem Imperial Drama AU: You are a princess, soon-to-be-Empress, and Zhongli is the teacher invited by the royal court to show you the ropes before you ascend to the throne after a royal tragedy.

Notes: female + Princess!Reader, Teacher!Zhongli, mutual pining, fake politics, Zhongli POV

xiansheng - Chinese honorific translated to as “person born before another,” also used as a title to refer to persons of authority or skills; generally used to mean “teacher”

[Previous] [Next]

Zhongli’s duties as the Princess’ tutor, as spoken by the head noble-- a man who seemed to always have a sneer on his face-- was to fully and completely reeducate the Princess. He understands now why his room is so close to yours considering how they have asked him to spend the majority of your day with him-- and vice versa. You seem to take this schedule in stride, listening to his lectures with an apt mind and following whatever lessons he brings throughout the day, regardless of familiarity or novelty.

But you are quiet, and as appreciative as Zhongli is at a rapt audience, he knows you have more to say than what you are giving-- but he understands. Zhongli can’t imagine not having a moment of solidarity when the presence of others can be so oppressive in the face of grief. In the middle of his afternoon lessons, he excuses himself and allows you to have a break. He knows he has decided well when you shoot him a grateful smile and when he sees you deflate the moment he closes the sliding door.

“Has she not been raised as a Princess for her whole life?” He asks the noble politely as they walk down the long outdoor hallways of the palace. He had been called to meet up with him on his way to court with the intentions to review the Princess’s progress, only it seems as though the head noble had no intentions of listening. “Surely, there is no need for me to go so extensively into that sector of education," he presses.

The noble sighs. “Mr. Zhongli, with all due respect, the girl--” Zhongli can feel his brows raise at the lack of title used-- “...has never been properly prepared for the possibility to become the Empress. She was one of the last ones in line to inherit the throne, so no one thought she could amount to anything. Surely, you’ve seen the way she acts?” The noble lifts his round silk fan to his face, and Zhongli, despite all his efforts to not feel disdain for the callous noble, feels his patience wear thin. “It was such a surprise, you see, to all of us when that tragedy hit, but alas, she’s the only one left.”

“I see,” Zhongli replies coolly. “And so you would have me follow her and scrutinize her every action to make her fit to rule?”

If the noble took heed of his frosty tone, he does not react to it. Instead, he looks at Zhongli coyly from behind his fan. “I assure you, it will be best for both you and me to have her reeducated. To an extent.” The noble says, “I assume you know what I’m referring to? You’re an intelligent man, Mr. Zhongli. You come from a good family and know much of the world… but you could always, ah, possess more.”

“Knowledge is power, as I am sure you are aware,” he says, chuckling. Zhongli watches in silence as the noble walks away, waving a flippant hand. “Be sure to take care not to provide her with too much, Mr. Zhongli, and perhaps I’ll refer you to a different title someday.”

.

.

.

When Guizhong was chosen to become a lady of another country, Zhongli felt, for the first time in many, that perhaps there was more to life than a constant grapple for power and the legacy that it would lead. She had not wanted to leave as much as he did not want her to go, but he did not understand then that he held power in his mind and in his own actions to change the path in which his path would lead.

Despite his disdain for the lies and trickery involved with the power struggle, Zhongli knows he will keep his promise to his father to uphold his family honor. He has always been a man of his words, for he bound himself into fulfilling them as though they are contracts.

But as he watches the head noble disappear behind the court doors, Zhongli wonders if that is all he is capable of.

When he thinks of Guizhong-- when he thinks of you, who has lost so much and could lose so much more, he thinks that for how your world seems to be against you, he wants to be someone on your side of the ring-- despite how everyone pressures for the opposite. Zhongli does not know if he deserves it, but he wishes to have your trust. He has yet to know how to truly support you, but he wants to provide you the freedom of choice if he can-- even in the smallest of ways.

And so he gives you freedom in the only way he knows how.

“What would you like to learn about today?” Zhongli asks you the next day as the two of you walk quietly to the study room. He can’t help the smile on his face when you turn to him in poorly-hidden surprise. Despite how you may act in front of the nobles whom he knows has an ill-opinion of you as you of them, you cannot help the emotions that come to the surface. He thinks himself lucky, if he were honest, to know that he is at least in your favor enough for you to let down your guard to give him a glimpse of the Princess he had seen not a fortnight ago.

To this date, he has only seen you be as such with your lady-in-waiting, Amber, but he knows that in his presence, he has only barely scratched the surface to the depth of your relationship and personality.

“What would I like to learn about?” You repeat, looking out into the garden in thought. “I’m not sure,” you say, turning to him. “What do you want to teach me?”

Zhongli blinks. “Pardon?”

At his confusion, you laugh, and Zhongli cannot help how his chest flutters at your sound of joy, for how far off it seemed that you would ever express that again. Just when he thought he could not be surprised, you tilt your head and smile teasingly at him. “You and I both know that the nobles are the ones that have been controlling my schedule for the past week. I want to know what you would want to teach me personally.”

Zhongli feels his cheeks warm at the tone of your voice. “Princess, I--” His father would be horrified at his lack of composure, but Zhongli cannot afford to think of his family and their expectations when you look up at him expectantly without an ounce of impatience. He clears his throat and thinks deeply, much to your amusement, putting his hand to his chin. “I suppose… I suppose I could provide you the history of the glaze lilies that the garden has in abundance?” He says, watching as your eyes soften, “They’re quite remarkable-- able to bloom in a night and gone in the next, some even saying they possess a different scent if you sing to them.”

“I agree with them, whoever said singing to them creates a different scent,” you say, looking out into the garden by the bamboo where three glaze lilies lay unbloomed. “If you sing the Liyuen lullaby to them, it produces a very soft fragrance-- almost like baby powder.” You turn to him and smile. “They were my mother’s favorite,” you explain gently. “She always sang and picked one for me to keep in my room.”

Zhongli lowers his head in respect. “My apologies, Princess, I didn't mean to bring up such personal topics."

“No, no! Don’t worry about it,” you tell him, laughing. “It’s fine. It’s nice to think of something nice like that.” You brush your hair behind your ears, and if there was a nostalgic lilt to your voice, he does not throw attention to it. “I like it,” you say, “please continue. I’m curious about the glaze lily’s history.”  

And what was Zhongli to do for the Princess if not to continue?

Zhongli doesn’t know if you have committed his every word to memory, or whether you remember anything in regards to the dates he provided (you are terrible with dates, he has found out, much to your embarrassment; but much like everything he knows of you, he finds it endearing). But he watches as you walk through the garden with him, the most at peace he has ever seen you, and he continues to speak.

And Zhongli lets his voice rid of the garden of silence, your thoughtful hums and soft laughter as accompaniment. Soon enough, though, the sun sets and the stars begin to shine, and Zhongli leads you to your room where you will be served dinner.

You thank him for the lesson, and he nods gracefully, his hand upon his chest. When he raises his head, you are still smiling at him. (He thinks abruptly that he would like to keep that smile on your face, if only for a moment, and the next words tumble from his mouth.)

“If you are looking for a place by the sea,” he says, remembering your words from before, “‘where the wind blows and the earth is clean,’ then I believe that I shall make our lesson on that the next time we find ourselves free.”

You blink up at him, eyes wide-- lips parted as though awestruck until they widen into the kindest smile he has ever seen on you.

“Yes,” you say softly, “that sounds lovely. Thank you.”

Zhongli lowers his head again in respect, swallowing at the magnitude of your magnanimity. “Of course, Princess.”

He expects to be dismissed, but instead he hears you ask, “Would you like to join me for dinner, xiansheng?”

Zhongli wonders how many times a person can bewilder him one day. “Pardon me?”

“I’m asking if you, Zhongli xiansheng,” you say with a now-familiar lilt of amusement, “would like to eat with the Princess.” You laugh when he stands, tall as he is, gaping at you. “You can say no. I won’t take offense. Promise.”

And he thinks to himself that as generous as you are to offer him the option to deny your request, he doesn’t know if he ever would have.

Dinner consisted of the finest foods: Peking duck, the freshest peaches of Fontaine, the grains of Qingce Village, and bamboo soup that would have put his personal chef to shame. It is custom of the Princess to sit from a table distant from him, but in the confines of your inner chambers, you sit right in front of him, placing dishes in front of him for him to try. (Zhongli has a feeling you would pile food onto his bowl if you could.)

He has the delight of not only enjoying the foods you have offered but also the sight of your smiling countenance for the remainder of that night. And for once, he feels as though he has taken the reins on his own life-- for the better.

(He only hopes he can keep holding on.)

[elvish-sky]

Hope {Aragorn x Reader}

A.N: So no prompts done today cause I was working on this, but I’m proud of it and will get right on prompts tomorrow! This is the completely reader-insert version! I honestly had so much fun writing it and am honored that this person wanted me to do so. I hope y’all like it!

Requested by @ask-the-elf-stuff on Tumblr

Pairing: Aragorn x Reader

Word Count: 1,799

Warnings: Kissing, fluff, the smallest bit of angst.

****

Hope

“You’re really leaving?” You gazed into Aragorn’s eyes, hoping that it wasn’t true.

    “I have to, Y/N. The fate of Middle-Earth depends on it.”

Your head dipped in understanding, but also sadness. 

“Do not fear. I will return.” He cupped your chin with his hand, tilting your head and kissing you. It was a light kiss, nothing like the others you had shared before. This kiss was the hope that you’d see each other again.

Breaking away, you forced a smile as you hugged him, trying not to cry. Stepping back, you waved as he followed the rest of the newly formed Fellowship through the gates of Imladris. Your father stood next to you, and as Aragorn passed through the gates Elrond drew you into his side. 

“He’ll be back, hína (child),” Elrond said as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

Nodding, you rested your head on your father’s shoulder as you watched the man depart.

Weeks later, you were pacing your room, determined to do something. Arwen stopped short in the doorway as she saw you pack open on your bed as you shoved things inside.

     “Y/N? What are you doing?”

“I do not know why, but I have felt a pull to follow. An ache, almost painful in its strength, has settled inside me and so I knew I must follow. We have not heard from the Fellowship in weeks, Aragorn could be hurt, or someone else could be, or he could be,” your voice broke, “dead.

The elf nodded in understanding. “The ache is telling you to be with the one you love.”

She then clasped your hand. “Y/N. Look at me.”

You looked at her, unshed tears of worry clear in your eyes.

“If he was dead, you’d feel it. And I know as your sister I should be telling you not to go, but I cannot help but notice the pain you’ve been in these last weeks. So go, find him.” She spread a map out onto a small table nearby, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Do you just carry that everywhere?”

She shot you a look, and you quickly clammed up, peering over her shoulder as she pointed things out. 

“After crossing the mountains visit our grandmother in Lothlorien, the Fellowship had planned to pass through there, and she will know where they are.” 

You took it all in, remembering the route to Lothlorien from visits to your grandparents you had made before your mother went west. 

“Thank you, Arwen.” You smiled up at your sister.

She clasped your wrist before pulling away, placing her hands on your shoulders as she looked into your eyes. “Stay safe, Y/N.”

You nodded, shoving the last things into your pack before slinging it over your shoulders with your bow and quiver, daggers sheathed on your thighs, hugging your sister one last time before leaving your room.

   You strode down the hallway, dressed in leather hunting clothes as you made your way to the gates of Imladris. You had stopped by the kitchens to gather food supplies, making sure they thought you were only going for a hunting excursion. 

Entering the courtyard, you saw your father standing in the center, clearly waiting for you. Silently cursing Arwen, as you had hoped to slip away unnoticed, you made your way over to him.

“I should not let you do this.”

You frowned at his words, drawing breath to protest, but before you could Elrond spoke again.

“But you are free to go. I feel the ache and have felt it every day since your mother departed. I know that nothing but being with the one you love can ease that pain, and it would hurt me to know you are experiencing it. Go to Estel. I give you my blessing.” 

You hugged your father before turning and mounting your horse, brought from the stables. Turning to wave to your father one last time, you leaned down to whisper, “Let’s go, Daeroc. Let’s go find Aragorn.” The horse broke into a trot, and you left Imladris behind.

Weeks later, you led Daeroc into Lothlorien, waiting for the sentries to appear. One dropped down from a tree, and you smiled at him, recognizing the face.

“Haldir,” you greeted him with a smile.

“Y/N. It is good to see you again. I assume you are here to see the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn?”

You nodded, “Yes. I have not seen my grandparents in a long time. But before we go to them could you find someone to take care of Daeroc?”

Another elf came into view, nodding to you as she took the reins from your hands. 

“Thank you,” you smiled at her.

Later, you walked into the courtyard, bowing to your grandparents standing on the stairs above. 

“Y/N, my daughter’s daughter. What brings you here?” Galadriel smiled at you, descending the stairs with her husband to greet you, each clasping your wrist. 

“To see you, of course, and seek news of the Fellowship that I assume has passed through here.” 

Your grandmother smiled. “It seems you are in luck, for they are here as we speak.”

Your eyes widened. “But they should have been long gone by now. I wonder what has caused the delay?”

Celeborn’s face softened. “Then you do not know.”

“Know what?” You were beginning to grow quite worried. “What has happened?”

“They could not make it through the pass of Caradhras, so they turned and went through Moria, costing them the life of Mithrandir.”

You gasped, heart aching at the grief that must have caused them and the grief you now felt. 

“May I see them?” All you wanted now was to see your friends and the man you loved.

“Of course.” Galadriel beckoned you to follow her, and you did, softly conversing with your grandmother and updating her on the lives of her family in Imladris, as well as others she knew.

Stepping into the clearing, you turned to thank Galadriel, watching her fade from view behind you for a moment before continuing. 

There he was. Tall and handsome still, even grimy with dirt and dust from his travels. You debated casually walking up and greeting him more sedately, but watching him you just couldn’t hold back. All your elvish instincts left you, and you sprinted towards him, leaping into his shocked arms as kissing him for all you were worth. He kissed you back for a moment, and then pulled away, the surprise on his face clear.

“Y/N! What are you doing here?”

“I came to find you.”

His eyes widened. “You did?”

You smiled at him. “Of course I did, meleth.”

He smiled back at you, and drew you in for another kiss, hands holding you up as your legs wrapped around his waist. Deepening the kiss, he moved so your back was pressed against a tree and his hands were free to slide up your back, tangling in your hair as you lost yourselves in each other.

Sometime later, you sat with the rest of the Fellowship after the nighttime meal, talking. It was good to see them again, you had grown fond of all of them, even the dwarf, during their time in Imladris. But of course, the only person you really had eyes for that night was Aragorn, who sat next to you with an arm around your shoulders. 

Legolas had seemed puzzled with how comfortable you were with affection, it was rather un elf-like. You had explained to him that because of your father’s past, he was slightly more affectionate than a normal elf, and showed it. You hadn’t missed the wistful look on Legolas’ face as you spoke and recalled what you knew of his family, feeling sorry for him. 

Later that night, you sat by the dying embers of the fire alongside Legolas. Aragorn had gone with the hobbits to wash up, and Boromir and Gimli were sleeping, so it was just you and the elf.

“Legolas?” The older elf looked at you. 

“Can I ask you something?”

He nodded, and you continued, “I was just wondering, do you know of something like an ache? It began right after the Fellowship departed Imladris, and only subsided when I arrived here. What does it mean?”

He smiled. “Y/N. That was the bond between your soul and Aragorn’s, pulled taught with your fear of losing him. Now that you are reunited, it has gone because you are together. It is every elf’s greatest dream and worst fear to have that feeling.”

You smiled. “Have you?”

The pain in his eyes told you that maybe that was not something to be asked of others.

“I am not sure if it is in my destiny to ever feel that.” He gazed into the distance.

The two of you sat in easy silence for a long time, after that. 

“Y/N.” You turned to see Aragorn beckoning to you, and with a nod to Legolas, you rose.

“You do not have to come with us. It will be a journey of great peril, and I do not want to put you in that much danger.”

You gazed at him earnestly, “Aragorn. I shall be there when the crown is finally placed on your head. I shall be with you until the end.”

He smiled at you again and clasped your hand as you walked through the towering trees.

You had left Lothlorien the day after with the Fellowship, having officially joined up. Lots had happened after that, including almost dying with most of Middle-Earth, but months later, all was finally well. Frodo and Sam had destroyed the ring in Mordor, the forces of Mordor had collapsed along with the Black Gate, and today was the coronation of King Elessar, also known as Aragorn. 

You watched, standing next to Gimli on the dais, as Gandalf lowered the crown onto Aragorn’s head.

“Now come the days of the King!” Gandalf declared before Aragorn turned to face his kingdom. Everyone cheered as he stood there, silencing quickly as he spoke. His words were wise and sincere, and you couldn’t help but fall in love all over again. As petals began to fall, he started singing, the words quickly fading as he turned to you. 

You walked down to meet him at the bottom of the steps, gown trailing behind you. Once you reached him, he grabbed your hand, wrapping an arm around your waist as he dipped you into a spectacular kiss. Unlike the one you had shared in Imladris, this was not a kiss of sadness. This was a kiss of hope, peace, and promise. As the cheers rose around you again you knew that everything you had hoped for had come true.

Everything tag: @entishramblings @itgetsatadhazy @boyruins @anjhope1 @wellofeternalthirst @kumqu4t @katbby16

[watermelonlipstick]

Dreams, Chapter 11

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 11

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2616

Summary: Another dream makes things more clear for the reader and less clear for Sam.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, s l o w  b u r n

           The booths are those plastic-coated pressboard swoops that are so easy to clean, one row down either side of the long room once you walk past the counter to order. Like other pizza places, there are red pepper flakes and grated parmesan on the table, but they also keep ranch dressing in a minifridge behind the counter as a concession to Midwestern sensibilities. You know you’re just outside Dayton just like you know the pizza shop is run by a family, father and two older teenage daughters deftly throwing dough and scattering cheese evenly over it in a way that shows their years of practice. Dean sits across the table with his elbows on it, one forefinger and thumb picking through a plate of nachos between you. His black t-shirt, amulet, and lack of flannel make you notice the hum of the air conditioner in the background, straining over the 90’s alternative radio and reminding you that you’d been here in a heat stroke the summer after you and Dean had gotten together, his golden freckles and lightened tips of his slightly messy hair underlining the memory.

           “They don’t serve nachos here.” It’s half statement and half question.

           “Babe, it’s your dream. They’ll serve whatever you want. Does the pizza suck in Wisconsin or something?”

           The two sisters are whispering to each other as they look over at your table, an almost-argument that ends with who you suspect is the older sister poofing a pinch of flour into the other’s face. They’re both cute girls but she’s adorable, soft cherubic cheeks and messy bun piling impossibly glossy hair on her head as she walks over to the table with a gigantic pizza. “Can I get you anything else?” she asks in a perfect welcoming cheerleader pitch.

           “I think we’re good for now, sweetheart,” Dean purrs with a wink. That you remember; you’d playfully chastised Dean for dazzling the teens, laughing in his face when he’d said it wasn’t on purpose, that he couldn’t help it if chicks dug him. The wink had proved your point then and now it makes the girl’s cheeks flush red.

           She catches herself remarkably well, the stammer almost slipping under the radar as she assures you that you can “holler if you need anything!”

           Dean brushes his fingers free of nacho debris and loosens a piece of pizza from the melting cheese of the ones next to it. “Last time you had all kinds of sweet nothings and questions for me and now you’re Silent Cal?”

           “I don’t think this is real, but I’m pretty sure if I push it you’ll either die in this dream or I’ll wake up, so my plan is to stay here as long as we can.”

           He drops the pizza back into the box and wipes off his fingers on a napkin before slouching into the booth, arm stretched across its length. “So test me then. Gimme a question only I would know or something.”

           “Well if I ask you something that I know the answer to, my brain will just project you knowing it. See the problem?”

           Dean squints and pouts in consideration, touch of a smile dancing across his face and if it isn’t the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen may you be struck dead right now. “Then ask me something you don’t know the answer to.”

           You think about explaining how that too could just be some part of your subconscious recreation of Dean but you don’t want to keep pulling at loose strings in the event that it wakes you up. It’s too hard to keep from smiling, seeing Dean charming and relaxed like this, and when you grin it makes Dean bite his lip. “What’s something I don’t know the answer to?”

           “Ah, ah—I thought I’m just a hologram, how would I know?”

           “Projection, but okay,” you stall. “Wait, here’s one. Sam said when I first started going on jobs with you guys that you had to have a conversation about staying focused. What was that all about?”

           He runs his tongue along the inside of his lower lip. “Man, why would he tell you that?” he says under his breath, smirking mostly to himself before leaning forward to meet your eyes. “Fine. I’m not even sure that you’re going to remember this. There was a vengeful spirit in Indiana, some like homesteader guy, ring a bell?”

           You have only the vaguest sense of recollection and sort of waggle your head to show it.

           “It was way at the beginning of when you started coming on jobs with us. You and Bobby got into it because he wanted you to bring your own car so you could ditch us if we were ‘acting like cretins’ or some shit like that?”

           That fits the last puzzle piece in for you and makes you chuckle. “He ended up giving me like $250 of mad money in case I needed a new room or a bus ticket, yeah. I remember.”

           “I didn’t know that part but that’s gotta be the same trip. The whole thing was really stupid. Basically we were supposed to have your six but both me and Sammy wanted to carry a shotgun instead of doing that protection spell because it looked cooler. We were arguing about it when the spirit whipped a chunk of the barn’s scaffolding at you and we didn’t catch it in time. You heard it coming and ducked so nothing ended up happening, but it fucking demolished the wall behind you. It was a huge fuckup—thing could’ve taken your head clean off, you know? Sam was so broken up about it he was wasted for like a week solid after we dropped you back off at Bobby’s.”

           “Really? That doesn’t sound like him at all.”

           “I know, usually he does some kind of pouty baby bullshit. But I mean both of us felt really guilty that bitching at each other could’ve taken you out.”

           Dean’s eyes rake over your face, seeming to linger over every inch like he’s going to draw a topographical map of it later by memory. You can tell he’s waiting for you to say something but you can’t think of anything other than tracing each of his freckles where they dust across his nose.

           A hand reaches over the table to run his fingertips along the back of yours, and that certainly feels real enough to send an ache into your gut. “What if you ask Sam? If he says that’s not what happened then you can keep saying I’m not real and you don’t have to listen to me.”

           “But he already basically told me that. The only thing I probably wouldn’t have guessed about that is Sam getting drunk about it—these could’ve been just well-informed guesses about when it probably was or the kinds of things it seemed like he was implying.”

           His lips press into a firm line and the barest touch of pink rises in his cheeks. “We, um, we pinky swore on it.”

           The adorableness of his embarrassment makes you grin teasingly as much as the divulgence does. “A pinky promise? You guys must’ve been pretty serious to take such a sacred oath.”

           He rolls his eyes at your ribbing and throws his hands back in his lap with a defeated smirk. “Laugh it up. Would that be good enough proof for you?”

           It seems like Dean has figured out a loophole in the system, but you’re sure the light of day and Sam’s scrutiny will figure out why it isn’t actual evidence of communication with Dean beyond death, and you tell him that.

           A curtain of suspicious confusion falls over Dean’s face. “Sam being weird about it is what’s keeping you from trusting this? Kid, I’ve been talking to Sa—”

           And you woke up.

           The bed was empty next to you but you could smell something sweet in the air and hear the light clinking of pots or pans Sam was trying his best to keep quiet. You blinked back a few tears of frustration—who even cared if it was real or not? Reliving a great memory with Dean was more than enough and instead of enjoying it you’d wasted a chance at some small respite from your constant ache of grief. And even then, you hadn’t used any of your time to figure out how the whole thing worked, how you could see him again.

           But the most pressing issue was what you thought Dean had been trying to say before disappearing; that he had gotten through to Sam. Sam, of course, deserved to have secrets, but if he had been sitting on the resolution to all the angst you’d been struggling through in the last weeks (months?), you couldn’t imagine a reason why that wouldn’t hurt. Nothing would be solved by laying in your bed to sulk about it, though, so you threw on some clothes and went to brush your teeth.

           When you came out, Sam was hunched slightly, the standard stove highlighting his decidedly non-standard height as he shuffled a pan’s handle. He had a dishtowel over his t-shirt clad shoulder, a habit from the bar that sometimes held over when he was in the kitchen at home, and bare feet under old jeans. They were wearing through at the knees, and you knew they were absolutely pajama-soft from having periodically thrown them in with your own laundry. Through the kitchen window, enough snow-brightened sunlight came into the room to cast him in a halo glow that gleamed off of his hair. As long as it had gotten, chunks still swept into his face as he looked down at the stove, and he tucked one behind his ear as he looked up, half-singing a Buddy Guy song that was playing softly. It was stunning—he was stunning, statuesque and strong and right there in front of you. Cooking you breakfast while you slept in, of all things, chocolate chip pancakes he had to have remembered were your favorite from ages ago. You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d had them and right now, nothing in the world sounded better. He beamed and tilted the pan toward you. “Morning! I made pancakes, you want some?”

           And you should’ve just let the moment rest, sat in the rare bright winter morning and eaten chocolate chip pancakes and relished how well the boiler was working, maybe later in the day read a predictable murder mystery or taped off the living room to be painted and listened to REM until your shoulders were sore from running rollers up the walls all afternoon. Instead, about as stupid and weird a flop as if a toad had come out of your mouth, you said, “Have you been talking to Dean too?”

           Sam’s face fell but not in the right way. There was too much angle in his brow and that confirmed it. “What?” he asked, but it didn’t land.

           “How long have you been talking to Dean?”

           He kept that curious smile for a second, like maybe he could push through by playing dumb and you would forget, but finally his lips flattened and his jaw clenched as he stacked a finished pancake on top of its predecessors. “Just because I’m having dreams about him doesn’t mean it’s really him,” he finally answered, softly and as though he was telling the bubbling pancake batter in front of him, unable to meet your eyes.

           You felt the lump forming in your throat and tried to get the words out ahead of its solidifying. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

           “For what?” He let go of the pan and turned toward you, supporting his weight on the countertop. “So we can both—”

           “Both what? Be delusional? Is that what you were going to say?”

           Sam didn’t answer, but the set of his jaw was firm and he kept his eyes locked on yours.

           “He told me you were drunk for a week after the hunt you were talking about.” You watched as Sam’s pupils widened a touch. “And that you didn’t just promise each other to buckle down, you pinky swore.” Sam’s Adam’s apple jumped in his throat. “It’s true, isn’t it? I can see in your face that it is. Did you already know it’s really him?”

           He looked down at the floor and clenched his jaw. “I was pretty sure. Or at least I really hoped I was pretty sure.”

           You felt more than consciously allowed your mouth’s falling open. “How? How long?”

           “It just—I don’t know, it just felt different. I—uh, the first time was after we made those cupcakes; he asked about the cupcakes.”

           You slumped against the countertop opposite him, speechless. He shoved the pan off the hot burner a little too hard, put a palm on either side of the stove to brace himself. The two of you stood like that for a long minute, the smell of chocolate not matching the stiff heaviness in the air at all.

           “I don’t—what if it’s not real?” His throat sounded bound even though you couldn’t see his face, hulking mass of him spread across the tiny kitchen.

           He seemed so defeated, so young, and then you couldn’t believe how selfish you’d been, not putting two and two together that something challenging Sam’s grip on or understanding of reality must shove him back to the brain melting torture he’d endured in the cage and the months—years, maybe, he was always so tight-lipped about it—afterward. What the fuck were you thinking, not seeing it before, how this could seem like a perfectly laid trap for Sam, the most poetic way to whip his mind into stiff peaks of meringue. It made so much sense why he would need time to really suss it out, see the situation from all angles and investigate, check and re-check. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes but you blinked them away. This was not about you or your complicated need for him, it was about Sam, what he’d been through, what he was likely putting himself through even now.

           “The, um, the pancakes smell really good.”

           “Yeah?” There was half a laugh behind his words, humorless as it was. “I hope they’re okay, I know they’re your, uh, your favorite.”

           “I’m surprised you remembered.”

           Sam leaned on one arm to rub his face with his other hand. “Yeah, well.”

           “Can I help?”

           After a beat, he stood up and offered some space next to him on the stove. You worked hip to hip, sprinkling the chocolate chips while Sam flipped. He was scraping the last of the batter into a last little runt pancake with a spatula when you couldn’t help yourself and wrapped your arms around his waist. He seemed surprised, if sad, before setting down the bowl and covering as much of you as he could, folding over you like a protective shell. It reminded you of that dirty motel room, months and months ago, when Sam held you together as you cracked in his arms. All he could do then was be steadfast in reminding you he was still there, if nothing else was, and you hoped you were able to give him the same now.

           You silently laid two place settings on the kitchen counter while Sam set the food out. He sat next to you and had picked up his fork when you touched his wrist to still him. “If it’s not real for you then I’m losing it too.”

           Sam thought for a second, then raised his forearm and kissed the back of your hand where you held onto him before cutting into his pancakes.

-

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 12

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[yumgrapejuice]

An analysis on Ranboo’s lore playlist

okay y’all first of all, ranboo has a killer taste, i love him, and second, i couldn’t resist. i’m an analyst by nature. am i looking too deep into some things? did ranboo maybe choose some songs purely for the vibe? perhaps. do i care? no. let me have my fun.

I’m gonna drop my own analysis/interpretation based on these songs but feel free do use this yourself if you want!! And also feel free to disagree/correct me on anything!! I’m not a professional musical analyst lol and I did take some inspiration from already existing interpretations for the more lyrical songs.

here’s the playlist btw

“Introduction to the Snow”—introduction to the album. Fitting for the playlist’s beginning, seeing the tone. It’s mostly referencing (self-imposed) isolation.

“Dream Sweet in Sea Major”—this Miracle Music’s whole album is about dreams and reality, how they clash, loneliness and the wish to be close to someone, yet still remaining isolated. Very whimsical, metaphorical, melodic, and it has this vibe as if on the edge of consciousness. I’d say it fits quite well with c!Ranboo’s general vibe. This song in particular deals with sleepwalking(ha)/being in a dreamlike state, the line between what’s real and what’s not blurred.

“The Mind Electric”—oh this one fits Ranboo extremely well. First part is in reverse, the second in normal (mirroring), and it can get quite unsettling. Like you’re not sure what’s happening with the instrumentals, many different voices. Again, very metaphorical, but to put it shortly, the protagonist is being judged for a crime they’ve committed and, in their defence, they say: “Father, your honor, may I explain, my brain has claimed its glory over me; I’ve a good heart albeit insane”. They get “condemned to the infirmary” for that, where electric shock is used on them as a form of “therapy”. As a result, the protagonist loses grip on reality and themselves and truly does go insane. They beg for mercy and sympathy, but there’s no one to help them. “Someone help me; Understand what's going on inside my mind; Doctor I can't tell if I'm not me”—need I say more, really?

“Live and Let Die”—the phrase “live and let die” means to live your life how you wish and let others live how they wish without interfering. At first, you live by the phrase “live and let live”, meaning you have your ideals and you try to change the lives of others according to them, but as life progresses, you stop caring as much/try to distance yourself from others’ business.

“Turn the Lights Off”—dreams and nightmares. Mildly foreboding yet energetic. The actual meaning is about growing up (transition from childhood to adulthood), but we can take some other interpretations that’d fit with Ranboo’s character better. This Tally Hall’s album deals with differences, black and white, and how there shouldn’t be a divide between them. In this song, there are some noteworthy lines that I’d like to mention:

- “Bend the nightmare, you control it; Artful dodger, easy does it”—lucid dreaming, you have to be careful with it so as to not lose control.

- “Shut the closet, get under the covers”—you’re afraid of something and instead of facing it and seeing whether there even is something to be afraid of, you hide.

- “Turn the lights off”—confront your fears. It can also mean that in the dark, there’s no differences between people, going back to the album’s meaning.

- “And everybody wants to get evil tonight; But all good devils masquerade under the light”—this could mean that everyone has a darker part of themselves but those who actually indulge in their dark tendencies do so in plain sight by pretending to be someone else.

“Ruler of Everything”—the main theme here is time and how it’s the “ruler of everything”; time doesn’t matter about where it goes, and it will never stop. The second verse is most interesting to me—there are two singers, man and time, but for the sake of interpretation let’s just see it as two voices. One is obsessed about being liked, fitting in, constantly asking for reaffirmation (“Do you like how I walk? Do you like how I talk?”), while the second criticizes the first (“You practice your mannerisms into the wall”). They argue—”I’ve been you, I know you, your facade is scam; You know you’re making me cry, this is the way that I am”. The second is calling out the first for not being honest to himself. Tone is lighthearted but with an edge of unease.

“Merry-Go-Round of Life”—from Howl’s Moving Castle soundtrack. The title’s self-explanatory, I’d say.

“Killer Queen”—this one’s a harder one to interpret in regards to Ranboo lol. The song is about, based on an interview with Mercury, a high class woman that likes to indulge in her various desires (mostly sexual). I would doubt that’s what Ranboo was going for, so! Perhaps about a person that has no regards for their reputation and instead does whatever they feel like it? They have a certain image but still act however they like. Yeah, not too sure about this one :’) But that’s what I’ll go with for my later analysis.

“Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked”—quite straightforward. A person that performs bad deeds has reasons for them. Not excuses, but explanations, and you can sympathize with it. We all do “bad” things for one reason or the other, and, in the end, we’re all just trying to get by. Once again, plays into the theme of there not being a clear distinction between good and bad.

“The Bidding”—another harder one to interpret. On the surface, it’s about an auction where men are trying to sell themselves to women. They all present themselves in different images, and it’s remarked that the women care less about the date and more about the prospect of it, the pretty words. The date, actually, ends up being disappointing. Could be about expectations. Some men outright admit they’re assholes so whoever chooses them should know that. People can tell you what their intentions are from the start so if you end up hurt, you have no one else to blame but yourself.

“A Mask of My Own Face”—another interesting one! Unusual instruments, strong beat. They’re singing about how they have a desire to pretend to be someone else while secretly still being themselves. “I’d rob my own apartment and I wouldn’t give a damn; I’d blame it on the person that nobody knows I am”—implying they have no regard for their own livelihood and are just out to have some fun. Plus, that no one would be aware it’s all an act. “I'd wear it on Thanksgiving and I'd laugh in the parade; At all the people hissing, knowing I'm the one they hate”—they take delight in the idea of upsetting others and them not knowing it’s actually the singer that they should be hissing. “And at the big finale I would tear my face away; And smile as they grip their own and try to do the same”—everyone wears masks, and this person implies that their mask and their true self is not different from each other while others’ are.

“Stardust Crusaders”—soundtrack from Jojo. Action-packed? idk never seen it sorry lol

“I Can’t Decide”—oh, this one’s a doozy! One of the ones that do not fit c!Ranboo at all, but that’s what makes it interesting. A classic, the singer is out to have fun, very lighthearted and yet they’re singing about murder. The protagonist here is clearly mentally unwell and they’re indecisive whether they should let their enemy/toy/(up to interpretation) live or not. Some curious lines:

- “It’s not easy having yourself a good time”—in the context of the song, that “good time” implies something wicked.

- “I’m not a gangster tonight, don’t wanna be the bad guy, I’m just a loner, baby, and now you’ve got in my way”—they don’t view themselves as “bad”, however, the next two lines are paradoxal—the singer says they’re alone and yet decide to “mess around” with whoever comes up in their life.

- “No wonder why my heart feels dead inside, it’s hard and cold and petrified”—signifying lack of empathy.

- “It’s a bitch convincing people to like you”—they don’t actually want to do that and see it as a bother.

“Stranded Lullaby”—back to Miracle Musical, back to the theme of isolation. Super lyrical, super musical. They talk about how their memories float around aimlessly in their head, a sea, and may sometimes get lost. The protagonist, a sailor, is losing touch with reality and can’t tell apart what’s a dream anymore and what’s not. They question what they’re going through and why.

“Hidden In The Sand”—a song about longing, in my eyes. The protagonist sings about how “you” love things and how he wishes to love the same things, in the end admitting that “all I’ve wanted was you”. They don’t wish to be separated, they wish to have someone in their life that they could love.

“Now I’m Here”—euphoric. They sing about how they’re alive again, thanks to one specific person. I’m not gonna go too much into this one (partly because it’s a more difficult one for me again, partly because it’s Queen and I don’t wanna uhh talk nonsense on accident lol), but what I got from it is that when one one else saw them, someone did, and they made them “live again”, and now as a result the protagonist is devoted to them.

“&”—really highlights Tally Hall’s album’s theme of black and white and that there shouldn’t be a divide. The repetition of comparing opposites is present throughout the entire song (Weak & Strong & Wet & Dry…) and it’s heavily implied we should “say goodnight” to this mindset. But people love to choose sides, put things into good or bad categories. By the line “They took a lesson from their fathers” it’s implied that people don’t develop this mindset by themselves and are rather influenced by others around them. The whole album is titled “Good & Evil” and Tally Hall examines and criticizes this idea. If we keep dividing people into good and bad, eventually, we’ll all destroy ourselves.

“I’m Gonna Win”—a song about someone who’s struggling to get by. “Sometimes it can seem like a merciless dream”—life can get really hard and the protagonist wonders “what’s really worthwhile”. In the chorus, whoever, they declare that they’re “gonna win” no matter what. They might get “bloody and bruised” but they won’t give up until they “won’t be abused” and until they’re “laughing alone”. No matter how hard life/others kick them down, they’ll keep going. By the lines “It’s hard to be charming and smart and disarming; It’s hard to pretend you’re the best; It’s hard to fulfill everyone’s expectations; It’s hard to keep up with the rest” it’s implied that they find it tiresome to keep up appearances and be liked. It’s challenging to always fit everyone’s expectations, but they’ll continue doing whatever they have to to “win”.

if ranboo ever adds more songs to his playlist, i may add them here too :)