#i hacked this out in 9 hours

[hemomusicmonster]

Uhhhh... I'm not dead? Maybe at little on the inside, but that's 'cause I stayed up all night to make this silly joke thing for my roommates and I.

I was told that I should put it out to the public because they enjoyed it so much.

So, have some OCs to a Tom Cardy song called H.S.

[coco-loco-nut]

Book Club - Part 9

pairing: grid x reader

summary: you just got your wisdom teeth out, just in time for winter break fun with headcanons

a/n: thanks for the request, I missed the club❤️ ALSO! the original post just hit 1,500 notes??? like guys🥹 ilysm, you don’t even know. you are still reading my silly little writings, and i appreciate that more than you know. every like, comment, and reblog is the reason we are here 9 parts later (seriously you should see how happy i am when i see comments)

requests open masterlist

——————

- You didn’t tell anyone else on the grid other than Lance, obviously

- They were all surprised when it was announced that you were going to be missing Abu Dahbi

- Your oral surgeon only had that Wednesday free before Christmas

- …and let’s be real, your seat was secure, you weren’t going to win the WDC, and the constructors championship was locked in

- You would raise hell if you couldn’t enjoy the food around the holidays, so missing the last race it was

- You were exhausted from the season and appreciated the early break

- Lance just let it slip to the drivers on Friday a couple of hours after he got there

- You were sitting at home with Kimi, swollen and in pain all Friday

- “What do you mean she won’t be here? We have our presents for her” Fernando pouts

- Charles one day ships you cases of his gelato with a note telling you to feel better, he’s trying to get into the club for the gossip

- Lance gets invited to the club meeting to his surprise

- He assumes that they want to check in on you, despite them blowing up your phone

- No, he was VERY wrong

- Lance got roped into showing them videos of you on drugs

- Their favorite was the one of you when you first came out from being under

- “I’m married? Oh my god, I married Nico Hülkenberg? This is the best day of my life”

- You were sobbing tears of joy

- Nico was sent the video immediately, you gave him permission via text to post it the next day

- The second favorite was your favorite to laugh at

- You went on a massive rant about how Susie Wolff is a MILF and how you hoped Toto could fight because the female driver was your woman crush and you WILL have her

- Susie loved the video (George and Lewis sent it in the Mercedes family gc), Toto… not as much but he was amused

- You got a lot of fussing drivers on Facetime during the meeting

- You were loopy af from the painkillers and general exhaustion during it, it wasn’t your fault they called you late

- Kimi forced them to shut up and hang up so you could sleep

- Carlos joked about being relieved that there wasn’t another race for you to follow his trend during an interview

- You won the first race the next year

- Your phone started blowing up with messages on social media wishing you a quick recovery

- Most of the book club showed up to your home after Abu Dahbi, wanting to make a quick stop to check in before the break

- “Hello, wife,” Nico greets you when he sees you

- You joked you were about to file for divorce from Lance, who just sighed and went to get you a carton of LEC

- You had to film you opening your secret santa gift and send it to the F1 social team

- You got a quilt blanket that had a square for each book you read with the club since it started

- You actually started sobbing (you blamed the meds, even if you were actually crying)

- Lewis got the biggest hug ever, he enlisted help from Valtteri for all the books

- You forced them to cut the parts of you crying out of the video

- You got Logan an old iPod full of popular music (you hacked into his phone to check the genres he liked) from his childhood and now

- Obviously you added headphones and a couple chargers

- Logan used it all the time, he called you immediately to thank you

- You had the honors of choosing the first book over winter break

- You chose an F1 romance novel

- Boy oh boy were those meetings fun, just tearing up the book for its inaccuracy

- Daniel vowed to write an accurate one and sell it

- Spoiler Alert: he never did

- But Fernando did

- It was an international bestseller

[adviceformefromme]

Personal health hacks that have completely changed my life in the last 9 months.

Absolute number one is removing carbs from my diet. I had THE WORST crashes and lethargy every single day after my morning oat meal, after my carb heavy lunch, and carb heavy dinner. Despite being vegan my body lacked nutrients and calories from under-eating being plant-based and carb-overloading. 

Introducing grass-fed meat and high quality eggs into my diet. Red meat gets such bad press in the media, but personally it has given me energy, strength and I feel much better eating this in moderation. 

Little exercise each day. Not killing myself with a hardcore workout and then not being able to move for rest of the week (which I was doing previously). I now do a little each day. 1.5 - 2mile run most days, and daily stretches and weights at home. Nothing crazy, but a little goes a long way and I find it much easier to be consistent doing smaller bouts on my own schedule daily. 

Hormone health, ensuring I am keeping my hormones balanced. I make watermelon juice daily with 1.5 heaped tablespoons of flaxseed. Alongside that. I take omega 3, DIM, Selenium, Iodine, Vitamin D +K2, Evening primrose oil for womens health. I eat foods that support healthy hormones, broccoli, carrots, sunflower seeds and removed the foods that cause imbalances (carbs, sugars).

Removing all stress from my life. Including moving overseas, deleting social media and keeping my circle small but wholesome. 

Quit drinking alcohol. Initially I thought I would have the occasional drink but I truly have no desire anymore. My life is significantly better for not drinking. My body never responded well to booze. 

Sleeping properly for 7-9 hrs per night. Meditating for 1 hour before bed usually puts me in a completely zen mode for relaxation. That means my phone is switched off, I use a lavender pillow spray and light candles to set the mood for a goodnight sleep. 

Zeolite detox for heavy metals (currently in the process). I have Zeolith Med powder each day with water to flush out any toxins. 

Learning about gut microbiome, and probiotics..in the process of obtaining kefir grains to make my own batch. Making sauerkraut on weekends and introducing a wider variety of foods into my diet. 

These are completely personal and I can honestly say I feel better than ever. I wish I had done the above years ago, especially the carbs! I got a continuous glucose monitor of Amazon to see how my body was responding to carbs before I completely cut them off and I recommend doing this if you want to know more about how your body is reacting to glucose. 

*this all took time and effort, but once I removed the distractions, the meaningless socialising, the boozing, the scrolling I’ve had time to invest in myself + my health

[skwpr]

10 Reasons Why Studying is Hard

1 . You don’t know WHY

You don’t know why you have to study. You don’t know your true purpose.

Let me inform you: You have to study because this is the stage in life where you create a foundation of all the basic knowledge you need and learn all sorts of things.

In the next stage, you get to choose what career path you want to take. That is why you should think about your “WHY”.

I am studying because I want to study every day and be prepared for my exams.

2 . You don’t know HOW to study

If you are like my brother, then you don’t know how to study.

Somehow, when we join high school, nobody really teaches us how to study.

Studying involves using different tactics to understand and remember things for the future, or for exams.

You need to learn to memorize.

This is how I memorize things for my exams:

I condense my notes into a few tiny words (summarizing)

I memorize these little words by:

Writing them over and over again

Closing my eyes and remembering them

Testing myself by writing the words again

3 . You are not studying at the right time

Are you a morning person or a night person?

Do you feel energized at 10 am or 10 pm?

These are questions you need to ask yourself to learn why studying is hard for you.

You need the answers to these questions in order to actually study.

4 . You don’t study every day

Alright, you don’t have to study every day.

But that doesn’t mean you only study at 1 am the night before the exam!

That is not smart at all. How are you supposed to teach yourself 3 months-worth of work in a few caffeine-spurred hours?

Stop making studying hard! Just study a little every day.

5 . You don’t have motivation to study

You can’t study at all because you don’t motivate yourself to study.

That is sometimes an excuse because here is the secret: Action comes before motivation, not the other way round.

Stop waiting for the right moment to come down from the sky like clouds parting and the sun shining down on you.

Just open your book right now and read it.

6 . You have some bad habits

If you can’t study at all, maybe you need to study your own habits.

Get a notebook and begin to track every single thing you do in a day. I would advise tracking habits after every hour.

Then you will begin to notice that you are doing some bad habits that make studying hard for you.

7 . You can’t focus on studying

Studying is hard for you and you can’t study at all because you can’t focus on studying.

My advice for you is to sit down and ask yourself why you can’t focus on studying and find a solution to that.

8 . You don’t have fun while studying

Studying to you is probably boring work!

You need to make studying appealing and inviting so you will feel motivated to study.

9 . You don’t know any study hacks

Everyone has their own study hacks.

You probably don’t. That is why studying is hard for you.

You need come up with a personal game plan for how you plan to get good grades on your next test.

10 . You are just plain lazy

Maybe you are just lazy. Everyone gets lazy once in a while. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t get off your butt right now and start studying.

Do the least you can possibly do. Open your book and plan to learn just one thing today.

Remember only you can go deep inside and find out why you can’t study or why you never feel like studying. Ask yourself these questions.

That is how you will begin to create a good mindset that will help you to study.

[ruffboijuliaburnsides]

So Harris Bomberguy has released a video about plagiarism on youtube. But really it's about talking about plagiarism on youtube as a groundwork to talk about James Somerton.

Who is a liar and a plagiarist, who has a sizeable audience and patreon who likes to portray himself as a small creator who is ~struggling~ and being bullied for ~being queer~ when in reality he's a very successful channel and he's being called out for being a liar and a plagiarist.

And i'm so pissed, because I liked him, up until explicit proof by way of actual citations proved he was full of shit.

And just so you know, his response to his patrons, within about 3 hours (ie less than the runtime of the video) of Harry's video being uploaded? Was this:

[transcript of an email from Patreon <bingo@patreon.com> to [redacted], received at 9:37pm CST on 2 Dec 2023:

James Somerton just shared "Raised Concerns" for members only.

Raised Concerns

Firstly, I would like to thank all of you for supporting me in the first place.

However, it seems as if this channel has come under target from a significantly larger creator than myself and Nick. I know the majority of you were around last year when these accusations were first brought up; I have spoken to many of you privately and in live streams to explain the situation in detail. I am shocked to see that I was worth seemingly two hours of a four-hour video - especially when all of these issues have been discussed before one year ago today. Especially since there was nothing new brought up in this video.

If you have any concerns about these issues, please message me and I will answer all of your questions in detail.

Again, I am so grateful for your support. I love you all, and thank you.

James ]

So he doesn't state what the accusations are, or who's accusing him, and he says "it was discussed a year ago" (Harry found plagiarization in multiple videos posted as recently as the last month), and from my memory the post a year ago was similarly vague on the accusations. I signed up for a VERY inexpensive patreon annual around that time due to the harassment he said he was getting, and because he implied it was because he was talking about queer shit, NOT about copyright and plagiarism.

Fuck James Somerton. He is a hack and a thief and a misogynist/lesbophobe, and he can fucking choke as far as I care.

Thank you to every queer critic whose work he stole that made me think I liked him.

[skye-sundew--3rd-florets]

C:\Users\2KY3_rev2

Hello! My intern@l codename is 2KY3, but y0u can call my Skye! I'm a transfem robotgirl just k1nda posting and rebloggong stuff?(sometimes NSFW so minors beware)

{Important Notes}

18+ blog

In the US east coast time zone

She/They/It, large emphasis on "It", I am an object and rationally should be treated as such

bisexual

{Bot Data}

Relatively high-spec machine, only proprietary part is my motherboard but everything else is standardized and hot-swappable (even the CPU socket-cable-thingy (motherboard is in the chest, cpu in the head for better cooling, data is sent to and from the cpu via some crazy riser cable, dunno how it was made but it is VERY FRAGILE))

Possibly hacked? Unknown sentient AI inhabiting the system that may take over temporarily (no precedent for take over yet, cannot rule it out)

[DATA DEEMED OUT OF DATE]

C:|U$3RS|R0-GU3.ISO

H-hello? I’m new here, was imagined so hard during one of skyes brainstorming sessions that I became an entirely different personality in her mind.

(this is not in character I really am a separate person, my name is Rogue, same pronouns as my host (Skye) but I’m not sure about anything else, I have only existed for a few hours now)

[DATA DEEMED OUT OF DATE]

53797374656D2053@Skye:/$ vim TellThem.txt

1 Hello All!!!

2 I’ve decided to put a few rules to

3 this blog to keep things orderly,

4 don’t worry though there are very few

5

6 Don’t be an asshole? Seems pretty self

7 explanatory but if u aren’t nice on

8 here you are getting reported+blocked

9

10 dont promote anything on here (if it

11 requires money). End of sentence

12

13 oh yeag also we are a system, both in

14 literality (robot) and mentality

15 (multiple .ppl files in my system 16 literally people as files, there’s

17 about 4 of them)) 18 also don’t worry about the file 19 name, it wasn’t meant to sound so 20 ominous, my bad 😅

^^C

53797374656D2053@Skye:/$ sudo su

[sudo] password for Skye:█

root@Skye:/# shutdown -h now

[POWEROFF SEQUENCE STARTED]

[FILING .PPL RAM SECTORS TO DRIVE] [CUTTING POWER TO SYSTEM] ... ... [POWEROFF SEQUENCE SUCCESFUL]

[lex1nat0r]

A couple of cases of convergent evolution* in TTRPG mechanics that I like.

*entirely possible one informed the other(s) in both cases, the impression I get is that if you read TTRPGS that aren't name-brand D&D you read a lot of TTRPGs.

Health as resource depletion (Worlds Without Number vs. Shadow of the Weird Wizard)

Easy combat maneuvers (Dungeon Crawl Classics vs. Black Sword Hack vs. Shadow of the Weird Wizard)

One of my favorite mechanics in Worlds Without Number is System Strain. Each PC has a number of available System Strain equal to their Constitution score (NPCs get one point). Every time a character receives healing they gain a point of System Strain. If they're already at their maximum, they don't can't get HP back without resting. For every night of "good, refreshing sleep" a character gets back one point of System Strain (in addition to regular healing from resting). This opens up some fascinating design space, for example a lot of magical item effects add to the user's System Strain. And it allows higher level undead such as wights to do damage as System Strain, keeping them scary without having to deal with the pain in the ass that is level drain. It's a really neat mechanic.

Flipping over to Shadow of the Weird Wizard, a game I have not played so my estimation of how this works may be off, characters have Health against which they accumulate Damage, as opposed to losing HP. If a PC's Damage equals their Health, they are incapacitated. If their Health drops to 0 they die. Over the course of an adventure (what Weird Wizard calls a Quest) there's a couple of things that can reduce a character's Health, the ones that stand out to me are falling and, fascinatingly, all traps listed in the GM's guide reduce Health instead of dealing Damage. As far as I can tell flipping through the books, the only way to restore a character's maximum Health is to get 6 consecutive hours of rest. The end result looks like an amazing way to re-contextualize traps. Instead of being an HP tax, they can really wear PCs down as they explore a location. Not to mention the threat of instant death if the trap can reduce a character's Health to 0 not everyone's cup of tea, I know.

System Strain and Health both impose limits on how much adventurin' a PC can do in a day (in addition to the traditional methods like tracking light sources). I have first-hand experience using System Strain in a campaign, and it works out really well in practice. I suspect Health can do the same, though I'm not sure how fragile Weird Wizard characters actually are on the table.

--

I have played none of the following games, so not sure how well the mechanics work on the table BUT

Dungeon Crawl Classics has a killer aesthetic, the corebook is home to one of my favorite illustrations in gaming, but I'm not sure it's a game I'd ever actually play. Yes part of it is the weird dice. All TTRPG dice should be platonic solids and I'll die on that hill and yes that means I think d10s should go back to being icosahedrons numbered 0-9 twice. Anyway. In DCC combat a Warrior (i.e. Fighter) or a Dwarf (Dwarf/Elf/Halfling are classes in DCC, inherited from Basic D&D) gets a Deed die (goes from d3 to d10+4 depending on level) to determine their attack and damage bonus. In addition, before making an attack, they can declare a Mighty Deed of Arms. As part of the attack the player rolls the character's Deed Die . If the die comes up a 3 or better and the attack hits, the Deed succeeds. Deeds are open-ended, examples include blinding, disarming, tripping, etc., aren't limited just to melee combat, and the magnitude of their effect is based on the result of the Deed die. Plus, and I think this is the important part, the attack also deals damage in addition to the Deed. So far I think this is the best mechanic I've seen for letting fighters do cool stuff. Deeds doing damage plus another effect means that fighters (and dwarfs) don't need to gamble on whether disarming or whatever is worth their turn instead of just trying to hurt someone.

I picked up Black Sword Hack mostly for its worldbuilding tools (which are very good) and was pleasantly surprised to find that it included a combat maneuver mechanic. Each character has a usage die (you shift down a die size when it comes up a 1 or 2 until you have to downsize a d4 and then it's gone) called a Doom die. When the Doom die is depleted, the character makes all rolls with disadvantage until they take a long rest (when the Doom die is restored to its max size for that character). In combat a character can add an effect to their attack by making a Doom roll before the attack attempt. There are two downsides here compared to DCC, namely that there's a defined list of possible effects and about half of them cause you to do no damage. It's decent enough rules as written, but were I to run BSH (which honestly I might get around to) I'd be tempted to just sub in DCC's Mighty Deeds and still require the Doom roll as a cost to make the attempt.

Oh hey, Shadow of the Weird Wizard also has a rule for attack options. Like BSH it's a defined list of options, and you don't deal weapon damage if the attempt is successful but you do still get your bonus damage (which every character gets from levels in their class(es)) and any extra damage you would get. Weapons do from 1 - 4 d6 damage on their own, martial-focused characters get +1d6 bonus damage every level except level 1, rogue- and cleric- type folks get about half the number of d6s, and wizard-types don't get bonus damage but why is your nerd trying to trip people when they could be using their fucking magic. (Important sidenote: you can mix and match fighter/rogue/priest/mage classes freely in SotWW, it's very cool mandatory multiclassing). The other issue is that most of the attack options require you to beat one of the target's attributes +5 as well as their defense, but you are guaranteed at least some damage even if you don't clear the attribute threshold. It's harder to find a way to kludge Mighty Deeds of Arms into this one, plus all SotWW characters just get more features than DCC or BSH characters anyway, so this one I'd run as written.

So obviously I have a preference for DCC's Mighty Deeds of Arms because on paper it looks like the simplest and most flexible way to handle characters attempting cool stunts in combat, but it's nice to see BSH and SotWW trying to give that flexibility as well. It's nice that BSH ties that to the Doom die mechanic, even if the maneuvers themselves are more limited.

[phoebepheebsphibs]

Double-Mutated Mikey

Chapter 9: Ethology

Continued from the short story written by @boots-with-the-fur-club

Prev || Next

Raph is awoken by a buzzing and quiet jingle of music under his thigh.

He groans as he reaches down and pulls his phone out, quickly answering it before the ringing can wake up the other two.

"Hhheello?" he mumbles sleepily.

"Ah, Raph, good morning. Casey Jr. gave me the list of Krang attributes to look out for, so I was wondering if Michael would be up for another round of tests and scans?"

Raph groans slightly, rubbing his hand down his face. His fingers catch the dried mucus left over from when he was crying last night.

"Donnie, what time is it?"

"7:30AM. Good morning, by the way."

"Mornin'. Why so early?" he complains. "Couldn't this have waited until a decent hour?"

"April is coming over later today, and I wanted to get the examinations out of the way before she arrives."

Raph yawns and stretches.

"Fine... Sure thing, Dee; I'll wake the guys and meet you in the lab. Though I assume you already knew we slept in Mikey's room..."

"I would have joined you, but I was busy..."

"You didn't stay up all night, did you?"

"No... I passed out sometime around 3:15."

"Donnie," Raph scolds. He is all too familiar with Dee's tendency to overwork himself when he has a big important project.

"I'll have a nap or something," Donnie half-heartedly promises. "But Mikey is first priority."

Well, Raph can't argue with that. He'd probably do the exact same thing.

"Fine. But just make sure you're not gonna kill yourself over this, okay?"

Donnie hesitates before humming out an answer.

"Mhm. See you in a few."

He hangs up before Raph can address the hesitation. He rolls his eyes and yawns again before standing up. He wonders who to wake first. Leo is probably the one to get ready first, since he can help corral Mikey if the zoomies kick in again. And two heads are better than one. He's the better choice to wake up first.

And yet, Raph finds himself going to Mikey's hammock instead, rocking it gently and rubbing Mikey's back.

"Heeyyyyy, bud, time to wake up..."

Mikey hums at him, soft and quiet moans. His throat vibrates, and he twists his face, scrunching it up as he buries it into his pillow. Something about the expression and tone sets Raph off. It sounds tired, but there's something else in the sleepiness... he sounds scared. Sad.

"Mikey? Big man? Are you okay?"

Mikey's eyes snap open.

He sits erect, glancing around the room, trying to gather himself and take in his surroundings. His breaths are shaking, rapid. His eyes dart back and forth, settling on Raph and peering at him.

"Mikey?" Raph asks nervously. He reaches a hand out for the little brother.

Mikey gives it two sniffs.

His expression changes. He relaxes, relieved. His eyes get glossy with tears, and he mews at Raph, who presses his hand against his cheek.

Raphael knows what happened. He's seen himself go through this so many times after the invasion, during the weeks recovering from krangification. Mikey just woke up and forgot he was home and safe. He woke up and thought he was back at the TCRI labs.

Raph sighs and rubs the tears from Mikey's cheek. Mikey leans into the touch and hums.

"Hey bud, wanna help me wake up Leo?"

Mikey's eyes light up as he looks to where Leo is lying on the beanbag. Mikey chirps with enthusiasm as he jumps down quickly and runs over to his brother, pouncing on Leo and knocking the wind out of him. Leonardo gasps and coughs and hacks, arms flailing around as he struggles to gather himself.

Raph has to muster all his strength to keep from doubling over in laughter.

"Okay, well, good morning to you too, Mike," Leo coughs, patting Mikey on the back with a groan.

Mikey beeps in response, a big and bright grin on his face.

Raph clicks the lights on, Leo and Mikey groaning at the sudden brightness. Leo covers his face as his eyes dilate, though Mikey grunts in discomfort for a moment before he seems to adjust.

"What time is it?" Leo asks, turning to Raph.

"Seven thirty-sumthin'," Raph says. "Donnie wants to do some more tests with Mikey."

Mikey's head spins at the word 'tests'. He whinges nervously.

"It's just an eye exam and saliva swab, if I remember right," Raph assures him. "Donnie ain't gonna do anything to make ya uncomfortable or hurt ya."

Mikey squirms a bit before nodding with a deep exhale. His shoulders relax. He slowly climbs off of Leo, who yelps in discomfort as Mikey steps on his legs with all the grace and tact of a newborn ostrich.

Raph leads the way to Donnie's labs, though Mikey groans again and squints once they get to the dim halls. Leo follows after them quickly.

Donnie is waiting for them at the lab doors, smiling with a cup of coffee in his hands.

"Ah, hello dear brethren," he says with a smile. "Mikey, I hope you slept well."

Mikey signs 'good morning' at him. Dee's eyes expand. Raph forgot he hadn't seen Mikey communicate yet.

"Well, let's get this started, shall we?" Dee says with a smile, ushering them inside.

Mikey crawls into the lab and jumps up onto the examination table from the previous night. His tail taps nervously against the side.

"Now, Mikey, before we begin, I want you to know that I'm not going to do anything that makes you uncomfortable or upsets you," Donnie explains. "Think of this as like... a yearly physical, or a check-up. Not that we ever had those before... but the process is the same. I just want to make sure you're healthy and see some of the changes you've gone through so I can get an idea of how to properly take care of you. Okay?"

Mikey nods with a churr.

"Okay then. I'm going to start with an eye exam. We didn't really get to do that last night, after discovering the tapetum lucidum."

Donatello grabs a small pin light and shines it in Mikey's eye. Mikey hisses at the light before reeling back, holding his head and groaning.

"What? Is it too bright?"

'Vision,' Mikey signs. 'Vision changes when light. Head hurts.'

"What does he mean, 'vision changes when light'?" Leo asks.

Donnie scratches his chin as he inspects the eye he just shined a light in. The pupil doesn't dilate to accommodate to the darkness, but shifts from round to a slitted oval.

"Mikey, describe what you see. Not so much what is in the room, but how you perceive it."

Mikey looks at Donine, and he notices that he doesn't look him in the eye, but stares directly in the center of his face. After looking around for a second, he signs to him.

'Shapes, blurry edges, no details. Silhouettes. Heat. Mikey sees heat.'

"Mikey has infrared vision now," Donnie proclaims. "That's probably a result of the boa DNA. Snakes have heat-seeking vision."

"Wait, so if he can only see temperatures, then that explains why he didn't immediately recognize Splinter or Casey," Leo realizes. "He couldn't see their faces?"

"Precisely," Donnie says, Mikey nodding along. "But Mikey, what happened when I shined the light in your eye?"

'Vision changed,' Mikey answers. 'See things better. Colours, shapes, light.'

"So, the infrared only activates when it gets dark?"

Mikey nods.

'Hurts head when switches. Headaches. But Mikey prefers normal vision, easier to see. Sometimes vision blurs... mix, and gets confused. Can't switch right when light not dark enough. Hurts bad then.'

"Does it hurt now?" Donnie asks.

'Just a little. Computers shining.'

Donnie pauses before going to the wall and flicking the light switch on. The three groan at the sharp brightness that follows. Mikey blinks and hisses, but soon his pupils round out again. He glances around the room, and he smiles when his eyes settle on Donnie.

'Purple! See colours now!'

Donnie smiles, then grabs a tablet to take notes down on.

"I'll let Papa know to maintain proper illumination in the lair for you to keep the headaches at a minimum... Anything else eyesight-wise?"

Mikey shakes his head.

"Very well. On to the next thing..."

Donnie goes to his desk and grabs a swab.

"Open wide for me, okay?"

Mikey obeys, his teeth not quite so long and sharp as they were the night before during the fight. Donnie makes a mental note to ask about them.

Dee hands the swab to Leo, the designated medic, and he gently scrubs the inside of Mikey's cheek. Once he's finished, Donnie hands him a tiny vial to store it in.

"I'll be studying this later," he says, taking the sample from Leo and placing it in a storage compartment by his computer. "Thank you, Michael."

"And Leo," the slider adds.

"And Leo. Although, I would also like to do a blood test if possible..."

Mikey whimpers at this, and starts scooting away from Donnie.

"Only if you agree to it, Michael," he says quickly. "I promised not to do anything that would upset you. The saliva will suffice for now. I'll only ask for a blood sample if I really need it, okay?"

"What do you need the saliva for, anyway?" Leo asks.

"His DNA."

"I thought you had that?"

"I have a virtual scan of it," Donnie clarifies. "And all it does is tell me what's not him inside him. The saliva isn't for that, it's to help reverse-engineer the mutations and come up with an anti-mutagen."

"You can do that from just some spit?" Raph asks, intrigued.

"...We'll see," he mumbles, turning away from them and typing on the computer.

Raph notices the hesitation again. But Donnie gets back to work before Raph can bring it up or think about it anymore.

"Mikey, do you mind if I do some small inspections of your person?"

Mikey tilts his head, furrowing his brow.

"I want to look at you closer," Donnie tries again. "See what physical changes you've gone through."

Mikey chirps in understanding and bobs his head 'yes'. Donnie starts walking around him, lifting Mikey's arms as he flips his goggles down.

"Nardo, can you take notation while I inspect our brother?"

"Sure thing," Leo says, quickly grabbing the tablet for him.

"Write down exactly what I say, okay?" Donnie orders. "I won't be able to understand your dum-dum gibberish otherwise."

Leo gawks in disgust at Donnie's accusation, which entertains Mikey to the point of giggles. Leo smiles and winks before writing down Donnie's observations.

"Make a note: Michelangelo's shell is rougher, the scutes more pronounced and rigid. Part of it looks like scarring, but it also looks as though the breakage may act like an armour for underside of his shell..."

Donnie moves down the line, carefully taking Mikey's long whipping tail and tracing his fingers along it.

"His tail has grown as well... previous size was, in general estimation, three inches long. I don't have the exact measurements currently. His post-mutation tail is now..." Donnie pauses to measure. "...65 inches, or just over five feet."

Leo whistles in astonishment as he writes down Donnie's notes.

"What did they feed you to make you grow like that, Miguel?" he jokes.

Mikey exhales, a soft huff through his nostrils. A pity laugh. Though, Leo realizes that the mention of the labs has made him a little uncomfortable, and he starts squirming under Donnie's intense gaze. He should have thought of that...

Go hold his hand, Leo telepathically says to Raph, who jumps slightly at the unannounced use of mind meld. He nods and goes to Mikey, taking his hand and rubbing it gently to soothe him. Mikey starts to relax again.

"Make a note," Donnie continues, "Mikey's tail is covered in special scutes and scales that lift up and act as barbs or spikes."

Dee gently tucks his finger under one such scale and raises it. A series of other scales lift up in company with the first. He checks to make sure it doesn't cause discomfort for Mikey, and when it doesn't, he goes to the very tip of the appendage.

"The scales at the end are more elongated then the rest. And sharper. And it appears --"

He pries the scales up. A series of them lift in unison with the ones he has fiddled with, surrounding the tail in a circular pattern.

"-- it appears that they are also in a different arrangement than the rest. My hypothesis is that the scales on the majority of his tail are for protection and defense, but the scales on the end are for offense and attack."

Donnie smoothes them down.

"Are you doing alright, Angelo? Can I keep going?"

Mikey doesn't respond.

"Angelo?"

Donnie circles back to the front of the table, looking at Mikey's face. His eyes have glossed over. He looks bored, almost asleep. His expression is one of resignation. Donnie quickly waves his hand in front of him.

"Mikey? Anybody home?"

Mikey blinks and comes back.

'Sorry,' he signs. 'Zoned out. Habit.'

"Habit?"

'We don't like tests, zone out to not get scared. Did a lot of tests before. They poke and pull. Hurt. Make Mikey sad and scared. Zone out helps.'

"You mean you disassociate," Donnie clarifies. "Okay. I'll try to finish up as quickly as I can..."

"Mikey," Raph interjects. "What kinds of tests did they do?"

Mikey's face scrunches up again, his gaze goes past Raph to an empty corner of the room as he tries to focus, think back. After what feels like an eternity, Mikey responds.

'Can't remember.'

"Whaddya mean?" Raph asks anxiously.

'Blur,' Mikey signs. 'Can't remember things. The other place is hard to think in. Mikey likes this place better, helps head to think more. Helps to remember.'

"Do you remember how you got mutated?" Donnie asks.

Mikey waves his hand on a tilt back and forth. Sorta.

'Just remember hurts. Too bright. Bad people, they scare us. Scared a lot. Sleepy after. They do lots of tests.'

Raph whimpers quietly.

"Mikey... do you remember how you got captured?"

Mikey thinks about it.

'Remember falling. Remember scared. No more after. Not much before.'

Raph swallows. He wants to say something, wants to apologize... but then he locks eyes with Leo, who raises his brow at him and shakes his head, knowing exactly what Raph is thinking, even without the mind meld.

Not a good time.

Raph sighs and chokes down what he wants to say. He'll have time later.

"Mikey, can I ask you why you keep referring to yourself as multiple people?" Donnie asks.

'Voice,' Mikey signs.

"You... hear a voice in your head?"

Mikey has a look of frustration as he tries to explain as best he can. It's hard, he doesn't have all the words he needs.

'Word missing... don't know sing for it... stink... inside stink...'

"Inside stink?" Donnie asks, raising an eyebrow. "Does something smell bad, or --"

'No, inside stink... inner stinks... in stinks...'

"In stinks...? Instinct!" Leo exclaims. "You're saying there's a voice in your head that sounds like an instinct?"

Mikey nods, chirping happily that Leo understood.

"So, this 'Instinct', does this sound like your own thoughts? Or a separate personality?" Donnie asks, slowly spiralling in possible diagnoses. "It could be DID, or schizophrenia, or auditory hallucinations, or..."

Mikey shrugs.

'Voice tells Mikey what to do. Instinct takes over when really scared or danger. Instinct in charge a lot in other place. That why no remember much.'

"Kinda like 'Savage Raph', huh?" Raphael interjects.

Mikey beeps in response, nodding and pointing at Raph as if to say 'Yeah, what he said!'

"Alright, so Mikey has a form of dissociative identity disorder," Donnie diagnoses. "Leo, write that down. In the meantime, Mikey, I'm just gonna look at your hands, feet, and teeth, and then I'll stop for now, okay?"

'Okay' Mikey signs, ready to be done.

"Great."

Donnie takes Mikey's claw in his hand and turns it over.

"Hey, look! Mikey has beans now!" Raph exclaims, pointing to the small squishy, leathery, heart-shaped pads on Mikey's palms.

"They are paw pads," Donatello corrects. "Another quirk from the jaguar mutation..."

Mikey's eyes go huge as saucers when he hears that. Apparently he didn't know about that animal trait.

"Leo, make a note... Mikey's fingers are much more pointed now, his nails seem sharp and shaped. Unsure yet if that is by nature or nurture... As for his feet, there is some webbing between the toes, possibly a trait from the basilisk DNA. Oh, and a dewclaw; see this curved nail here?" Donnie says, pointing it out. "Fascinating. Alright Mikey, smile for me real quick?"

Mikey bares his teeth for Donnie.

"Hmm. Not as sharp or elongated as they were last night. Mikey, do you know if your teeth can retract on command?"

"You mean like Toothless?" Raph asks, getting just the teensiest bit excited.

Mikey nods, and signs again.

'Happens when angry or danger. Threat. Teeth grow big. Aches after.'

"Got it. Leo, write down that his teeth can extend and retract when Mikey feels threatened. Also, Mikey, seeing as how your teeth are sharper now, does this affect your diet in any way?"

Mikey taps his fingers against his knees as he thinks it over.

'Mikey gets hungry for meat a lot. But likes other foods still. No cold. Cold hurts. But definitely hungry for meat.'

"Got it. I'll instruct Papa to add more beef and proteins to the grocery cart."

Donnie leans back with a proud smile.

"I think that's all for now, Angelo. You did very well."

Mikey smiles brightly and makes an eeeeee noise in response.

'Thank you, Purple!'

Donnie's smile wanes.

"Purple? Why'd you call me Purple?"

Mikey's happy expression falls. He looks embarrassed, afraid.

'Purple... is name?'

"N-no... not, not really," Donnie stammers. "You called me that earlier... but I thought you meant you could discern my mask -- Mikey... You do remember my actual name, right?"

Mikey is silent. His lip quivers softly as he looks in between his brothers nervously, asking for help. But they look just as scared and helpless upon the realization.

"Mikey... do you... remember who we are?"

Prev || Next

[aprocessionofthoughts]

Freedom

whumptober24 day 16- necrosis, wound cleaning fandom- dp x dc tw- none summary- Danny is finally free

masterlist ao3 part 9 of ITR

Danny woke up somewhere that wasn’t the warehouse. He barely had any strength left, but he managed to look around. He was in what looked like a hospital room. He had only just started to panic when the door was flung open and Sam and Tucker rushed in.

“Danny!” they called together.

He smiled weakly. “Hey, guys.”

He grunted as they both wrapped their arms around him. “Can’t breathe.” he wheezed.

“Not like you need to.” Sam muttered, but they both eased off.

“It’s still nice to do.” Danny responded.

Sam scowled at him. “How dare you scare us like that. Daniel James Nightingale.”

Danny’s expression softened. “Sorry.”

“We’re just glad you’re alright Danny.” Tucker said, giving Sam a pointed look. She sighed, looking at the ground.

“Glad you’re not dead.”

“Well, deader at least.” Tucker said, smirking.

It was quiet for a moment, then Danny sighed, closing his eyes. 

“How much do they know?”

“We told them you were liminal.” Sam said. 

“Though we’re pretty sure the sad trenchcoat man and the bat furry don’t fully believe us.” Tucker said.

“It doesn’t matter. You don’t have to tell them anything, Danny.” Sam said.

Danny opened his eyes, glancing down at the bandages over his chest. “Do you know what he… what he carved into…”

Sam laid her hand over his. “It was a runic sequence. They sewed the wounds closed and bandaged you up, but we should probably still go see Frostbite. He used blood blossoms.”

“I know.” 

They were quiet another moment. 

“Maybe we should tell them.” Danny said. “They’re going to notice when my wounds don’t heal properly, and you both know that blood blossoms cause necrosis if not treated properly.”

They winced, and Tucker bit his lip while Sam scowled.

“This is your secret, Danny, whatever you decide we’ll be here for you.” Tucker said, and Sam nodded.

“Yes. And if they do anything wrong we’ve got plenty of blackmail material to keep them quiet. Tucker already hacked their systems, and I’ve got several ghosts on call.” Sam said.

Danny started to laugh before wincing in pain. “Yeah. I think we need to tell them something, before we go to Frostbite. I’m stable right now, but it would be best to get to the Far Frozen soon.” He paused. “What about the Anti-Ecto Act?” he whispered.

“They’re working on them.” Sam said.

“They are.” Tucker said. “I’ve been keeping track of their progress. They’ve got the GIW on hold for now, and it’s only a matter of time before they’re dissolved completely. There’s already drafts for laws that will go toward protecting ghosts. And…” Tucker glanced at Danny, “it would probably help if they had someone who could explain things better. Especially considering you’re going to be in charge one day.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “That’s a long time away. It’s not going to happen till I reach my natural death and then I’ll still have one hundred years to learn and train before taking the position.”

“We know. But you’ve still got connections that could help make the process of drafting the new laws easier. It would also help to establish relations early on.” Sam said.

Danny nodded reluctantly. “Alright, but we aren’t going to tell them about my status or anything.”

“Agreed.” Sam and Tucker said.

“Alright then,” Danny sighed again, “let the Bat in. I’m sure he’s the most curious.”

—

Batman walked into the room a half hour later.

“Hello, Mr. Nightingale. I am glad you appear to be recuperating.”

“Yeah. Thanks for helping out with my rescue.”

Batman inclined his head slightly.

“I assume you have questions.” Danny said not quite meeting Batman’s eyes.

“Yes.”

Danny sighed. “First of all, were you able to capture the cultist?”

“Yes. After you were rescued we were able to use a spell to locate where you had come from. Alfrus Bane is now in custody and the artifact he used has been locked up by Constantine.” Batman paused before continuing. “We are also making good progress on taking down the Anti-Ecto Acts. Rest assured the government will no longer be able to touch you… or anyone else who may be like you.”

Danny nodded. “Thank you.” He sighed. “My friends told you I was liminal, death touched.” Danny paused before deciding to just charge forward quickly. “That’s true but also not. I’m a bit more liminal than most. That’s why the artifact was able to control me. It happened once before and I was able to destroy that particular artifact. I would like this one to be destroyed as well. To keep others safe.”

“I will talk to Constantine about it, but I do not guarantee anything.”

Danny nodded. “Do you know of the Infinite Realms?”

“No.”

“It’s a place between dimensions, between realms. Imagine it like a sandwich. The bread is the dimensions and the stuff inside the sandwich is the Infinite Realms, except that the Realms connects all dimensions. There are creatures that live there, often called ghosts though not all of them are the consciousnesses of dead people.”

“And the GIW were after all the residents of this Realm?”

“Yes. You can see how the Acts could be catastrophic. If enough people from the Realms suffered at the hands of the GIW, they could have decided to attack.”

Batman stiffened. “I see. We shall make sure to dismantle the Acts and the GIW quickly and be sure they face the consequences for their actions. Is there someone… from the Realms who we could seek out to make amends with and possibly create a treaty?”

Danny suppressed a grimace. “There is. I can help get you in contact with them once I get better.”

Batman nodded. “Is there anything else you wish to tell me?”

Danny nodded. “There is, but I need to seek medical help first.”

“Is there anything else we can provide?”

“No.” Danny said, shaking his head. “The nature of my injuries means I need to seek help in the Infinite Realms. I will go there, and when I get better I can come back and explain things more thoroughly as well as get you in contact with someone from the Realms.”

“That would be greatly appreciated.” Batman inclined his head towards him. “I wish you a speedy recovery, Mr. Nightingale.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Contact me when you are better.”

“I will.” 

Danny sighed as Batman left. That went okay, but he still wasn’t looking forward to having to explain things more. And he was dreading having to approach Batman as an ambassador or something of the Infinite Realms.

Oh well. He was free. He closed his eyes and let himself feel it for the first time since he woke up. He was free. Everything else could wait till he was better.

[girlactionfigure]

🟪 MORE SPIES CAUGHT, HAMAS HUMAN SHIELD STRATEGY PROVEN - Real time from Israel  

ISRAEL REALTIME - Connecting to Israel in Realtime

A Gut’a Chol HaMoed from Israel - happy Succot intermediate holy days.

( PHOTO - doing your best to make a Sukkah in Lebanon. )

🔅END OF DAYLIGHT SAVINGS TIME in Israel, this Saturday night 2:00 AM. Change clocks back 1 hour, computers and phones should auto-adjust.▪️

❗️MORE SPIES CAUGHT.. 7 residents of east Jerusalem were arrested on suspicion of planning to eliminate a nuclear scientist and a mayor - on behalf of Iran.

⭕LEBANON - ANTI-AIRCRAFT FIRE at IDF JETS from HEZBOLLAH per Al Jazeera with video (not shared here), 23 mm anti-aircraft fire.

⭕HEZBOLLAH FIRES LONG RANGE MISSILE(S) this morning, alerts from Zichron Yaakov through north Tel Aviv.

Hezbollah for long range launches 1-5 missiles (so far).  With the low number and longer flight time, interception has been 100%.  Because of high altitude and speed of the flight, the scatter pattern for the debris covers a huge area. That is why a small number of missiles results in a large alert area in central Israel.

The opposite is occurring in the north, where Hezbollah is firing 20-110 short range rockets in a barrage, therefore each alert area is 1 or multiple rockets inbound.

⭕HAIFA PORT WORKERS GET THREATENING SMS.. Haifa port workers received messages Monday which stated that the port's system had been hacked and that they should leave the place as it would be the target of a missile attack.

⭕HAIFA - KRAYOT.. strong explosion without warning as an incoming rocket hits a nearby open area.

♦️LEBANON - HEAVY OVERNIGHT AIRSTRIKES across parts of Beirut and other areas.

♦️LEBANON - news report: boy killed working his shop due to Israeli STRIKE ON THE ROCKET LAUNCHER IN THE BACK space being rented by Hezbollah - reported straight like that.

♦️LEBANON - MASS EXODUS from Beirut continues, both sides of the highway going OUT.

♦️LEBANON - BUNKER UNDER HOSPITAL CAUSES PANIC.. Following the IDF spokesman's announcement regarding the Hezbollah cash-vault bunker under the al-Sakhal hospital in Harat Kharik in Dahiya in Beirut, hysteria began in the area surrounding the hospital as people tried to flee assuming an incoming IDF attack.

🔹US VS HOUTHIS $$.. The cost of the damage suffered by the US military so far is $186 million just from the downing of the MQ-9 Reaper drones.

❗️HAMAS’s MANIPULATIONS & INTENTIONAL HUMAN SHIELDS.. (WSJ) “As Arab mediators tried to speed up cease-fire talks, (Hamas leader) Sinwar urged his comrades in Hamas’s political leadership based outside of Gaza to REFUSE concessions. High civilian casualties would create worldwide pressure on Israel, Sinwar said in a message.

Sinwar messaged Hamas officials, urging them to refuse a hostage deal. Hamas had the upper hand in negotiations, Sinwar said, citing internal political divisions within Israel, cracks in Netanyahu’s wartime coalition and mounting U.S. pressure to alleviate the suffering in Gaza.”

▪️SERIOUS CRIMINAL INCIDENT - KFAR QASIM.. (Israeli Arabi/Bedouin town near Rosh Ha’ayin) 3 young people, ages 17, 17, 20, stabbed, critical condition, CPR.

▪️TRUMP SAYS.. Trump on the talks for a ceasefire in Lebanon: I spoke with people from Lebanon and to my surprise they want it (the attacks on Hezbollah) to continue as long as possible.

▪️AID PROFIT..  IDF: Paul Landes, head of the economic warfare staff at the Ministry of Defense, refuses to answer the question of whether Hamas makes money from humanitarian aid.

[us-the-voices-and-more-voices-2]

actually good cleaning hacks from someone who’s been through some shit

Get a steam mop I don’t care how much it is or cheap, just get one

if you have a pet invest in a wet dry vacuum, you will thank me.

get cleaning cloths you actually like the feel of, if you hate microfiber get a cheap set of tea towels and use them instead. Or chop up a dead tee shirt and use that.

plug in vacuums are 2x more powerful than non-plug in vacuums. You trade sucking power for mobility with cordless, so think that over when you get one.

buying a cheap mop every time one gets moldy is cheaper than having to deal with any mold you get from using a moldy mop.

invest in disinfectant/antifungal/antiviral/antibacterial liquid for your laundry, because that stuff makes getting rid of moldy musty musky shit easy. And it cleans your cleaning cloths without getting them greasy or soapy.

to fix “I accidentally left my clothes in the washing machine too long now they smell like mold” thing, you will need antifungal laundry liquid and the literal sun. Wash your clothes on the hottest setting you can with your clothing materials in mind, add the antifungal before you start, let it go for like 2 hours. And put it in the sun to dry. Repeat if it still smells moldy, until it doesn’t anymore, works like a charm!

to clean crystalline dog piss, you will need water, a steam mop, a wet dry vacuum (depending on if it’s in a carpet) dog cleaning spray or vinegar. Basically , rehydrate the piss, clean it up with dog spray or HOT vinegarish water, grab a steam mop and steam it (if not on carpet) and viola it should be okay now.

If it’s in the carpet you will need to rehydrate the piss, then just dowse the piss with water, use the wet dry vacuum to suck up the water, repeat until water comes up clean. Use whatever pet cleaner that’s good on your carpet to get the smell out, Patch test it in the corner of the carpet before you do it on the piss spot, soak up and remaining water from the carpet until it’s dry or blow dry it if you have to. And tada you have a cleaner carpet! The same works for dog shit too.

drain snakes are your best friend if you don’t remember to get the hair out the drain.

have one sponge for wiping down the sink and one for washing your dishes, because sometimes it’s easier to use a sponge to wipe down the sink than a cleaning cloth.

You can put sponges in the dishwasher and it cleans them REALLY WELL, do it everyday if you can.

Invest in a good glass cleaner for glass because when it gets greasy it’s hell.

Koh cleaner will literally cut through grease and oil, and fat. Like it wasn’t even there, if you don’t have the money white vinegar and bi-carbs does the same thing. Though be careful because it’s reactive and might destroy your countertop or pots, just invest in koh your life won’t be the same. (I can clean all the grease off things, that’s how good it works. Plus it doesn’t smell!!!)

Replace your toilet cleaner every 3 months, or make sure you don’t let it fester. That’s more of a hassle than replacing it every now and then.

Get a good dish soap, because you can use it for everything because of how mild it is.

After mopping always steam mop otherwise it will always be streaky or tacky, idk why but steam mops fix this 9/10 times.

there’s more, but I;m too tired.

[fluffyzoey]

Stubbornly Sick - Nischa

I KNOW I SAID I WASN’T GONNA DO NISCHA ANYMORE BUT I CANT GET THEM OUT OF MY HEAD SORRY

A oneshot in which Mischa is sick and refuses to admit it. Noel takes matters into his own hands.

Mischa rolled over on his thin-as-paper mattress, feeling his sweat seep into his pillowcase. He groaned, staring at the cement wall beside his lousy excuse for a bed. His whole body felt hot, and not in the way that meant people swoon over you. Beads of sweat rolled down from his hairline, his skin blotchy and red. His stomach growled, but he didn’t even want to get up and eat.

He fished his phone out from the comforter beside him, flipping it over to check the time: 9:30. He’d slept in later than ever, as if his body knew it needed rest. However, it was Sunday, meaning the choir was getting together for their weekly outing. 

Ever since the 6 of them had miraculously survived a roller coaster accident together, Ocean had been taking initiative to get the group together. Some weeks it was shopping and walking around downtown at whatever little shops remained, some weeks it was the mall, but today they’d planned a little hiking expedition. 

Mischa was almost never the biggest fan of these get togethers. First of all, it meant being stuck in the same vicinity as Ocean O’Connell Rosenberg for at least three hours. Secondly, it meant listening to Ocean for at least three hours. And lastly and probably worst, it meant not complaining about the little ginger scumbag for the entire time, or all hell would break loose. 

The real reason Mischa went at all was to spend time with his boyfriend, Noel. The two of them had grown close as they recovered from their accident, and Noel had been there for every step of Mischa’s growing musical career. Most of the time, Noel’s work schedule made it difficult for the boys to spend time together. Taco Bell execs didn’t really take “need time to make out with my boyfriend” as a valid excuse for missing shifts. However, “mandated outdoor socialization” was acceptable, apparently, so choir outings were fair game. 

Mischa ran his hands through his greasy, matted hair, yawning. His eyelids felt like they were made of steel, weighing him down and just wanting to close, keel over, and sleep. Even the way he carried himself, usually with his chest puffed out like a lion on the hunt, was different; slouched over and painful to even move. 

His phone vibrated in the back pocket of his sweatpants, evidence of a text message coming through. 

Noel: babe where r u! u said u would pick me up @ 9:15

He winced. Shit…

Noel set his phone down on his desk, turning back to the mirror to look at his makeup: on point as usual. Slumping back in his chair, he wondered where Mischa was. 

It’s not super unlike him to sleep through his alarm…he can sleep through my snoring after all. Maybe he stayed up late? Which is weird, because usually when he stays up late it’s because he and I are texting or something…Is he ignoring me? Shit, am I gonna have to ask Ocean for a ride? Damn it…

He picked up the phone again and dialed Mischa’s number, and to Noel’s delight and relief, Mischa picked up. 

“Hey babe…You alright?”

Mischa, at that moment, let out just about the loudest cough Noel had ever heard, hacking into the phone. 

“Sorry, I slept through my-” he paused to yawn, “-alarm. I will be there in ten minutes, Poet.” 

Noel’s heart absolutely melted at the sound of his partner’s voice. He sounded hoarse and just all around awful.

“Sweetheart, no offense, but you sound like shit. Are you feeling okay?”

“Fine. Just fine, honey. You wait and I’ll- ACHOO”

The sneeze just about made Noel have a heart attack with the sheer volume of it. He wasn’t so sure he loved the idea of Mischa even leaving the house in this condition, but he also knew how much of a stubborn asshole his boyfriend could be. Talking Mischa into staying home was not going to be easy in the slightest.

“Mischa…are you sure it’s the best idea for you to come get me? I can ask Ocean for a ride if you’re sick, you need rest…” Initially, he was going to scold Mischa, but his ‘loving boyfriend’ mode took over in a heartbeat. “I don’t even have to go today! Just get back to bed, drink lots of-”

“No, no.” Mischa waved him off. “I am going to go get dressed, and then I will come get my special boy, okay? I love you, Noel.”

“I love you too, which is why I want you to-”

He hung up. He fucking hung up. 

This was gonna be a long day.

Mischa had taken driver’s education. He knew that driving while sick could lead to accidents, because being sick made you drowsy, right? But Mischa wasn’t sick, he couldn’t be. Mischa didn’t get sick, at least that’s what he’d gaslit himself into believing. He got into the driver’s seat, rearing on the gas and speeding out of the driveway, almost slamming into his foster parents’ mailbox on his way out. 

Noel’s house wasn’t too far away from his, nowhere in Uranium City was very far away from any other place, to be honest. That was just how small towns worked. He turned onto Noel’s street and pulled up in front of the house. He parked, slightly crooked in the driveway, and trudged to the front step. 

“Noel!” He croaked out, his voice cracking. He rang the doorbell. 

The shorter male opened the door and looked Mischa up and down with a satisfied smirk on his face. “As expected, you look like someone pushed you out of a car window and then ran you over with a pickup truck. Bed, now.” 

“What? No! We have the hike-”

“I already texted Ocean and let her know that you’re sick and thus will not be attending. Now please go lay down, you know where my room is.”

“But…that just means I am going to get you sick! “So what? You’re the love of my life, I think I can handle your cooties.”

For once, it was Noel being the stubborn one. It was clear he wasn’t going to hear another word about it. Mischa allowed himself to be escorted (read: dragged by the collar of his shirt) upstairs to Noel’s bedroom. 

“Get your ass under the covers.” Noel demanded playfully. “Mom’s working another late shift, but I don’t have to work again until Monday afternoon. We could spend all day and night right here if it would make you feel better.” 

Mischa yawned and plopped down on Noel’s bed, having made the decision to be cooperative for once. “And do what? Talk about how shitty I feel? Because I feel like…big…bleh.”

“I know you do, darling.” Noel kissed his boyfriend’s forehead, giggling. “If you would lay down like I told you to and rest up, you might feel a little bit less bleh. Have you eaten today?”

“No.” He admitted. “I was not hungry.”

Noel sighed. “I’ll go get you some toast or something. You really gotta start taking care of yourself when you’re sick.”

“I am not sick.” Mischa protested. “Just a little tired.”

“Either way, you need rest.” Noel pressed his boyfriend down, hand splayed out over his chest. “Lay down, Mischa. Spare me my sanity.”

Mischa rolled his eyes. “I do not need to lay down, poet. Sleep is for the weak.”

“No, dumbfuck, sleep is for the idiot boyfriend who won’t admit that he feels like he was hit point blank with a sack of bricks!”

Mischa pondered Noel’s innate ability to know exactly how he felt, because the sack of bricks thing was fairly accurate. He felt like he was going to topple over onto the floor, but would his cocky ass admit that? When pigs fly.

“Sleep is for the weak.” He repeated instead, sitting back up. If he was going to get in bed he was not going to lay down and he was also going to make it everyone’s problem. 

“Whatever you say, dickwad,” Noel sighed. He was ever so creative with the pet names. “Sit still and don’t, I don’t know, set the house on fire. What do you want to eat?”

“I told you I am not hun—” he started, but he knew there was no winning this argument. “I guess…toast?”

Noel went downstairs and fished a loaf of bread and the toaster out, tossed a slice in, and promised himself he would not scream when the toast popped up. 

He broke the promise.

Anyway, he took out the golden brown bread and slathered it in butter, taking it back upstairs to Mischa. 

In the time it took Noel to make a piece of toast, Mischa had flopped over and fallen asleep. Noel made a soft tsk tsk sound, setting the plate of toast on the nightstand. He gently climbed into the bed, pulling the covers over both Mischa and himself. Rolling onto his side, he came face to face with a peacefully dozing Mischa and a pool of drool already staining the pillow (not that Noel really minded). He brushed Mischa’s chestnut curls out of his eyes, giggling softly.

“Yeah, rest easy, tough guy.” He whispered. “My fucking idiot.” He snuck a quick kiss onto Mischa’s forehead. “I love you.

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A2 part 9

Synopsis: It’s been over a year since we were brought under Alastor’s watchful eye. We’ve unlocked our Demonic powers, discovered our own talents, and began building the Safe Haven with Charlie and co. Alastor seems increasingly interested in the power we hold as one and intends to use it properly.

Previous part

Part 9: a different person

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spring had arrived and plenty of new faces with it.

Construction began as soon as the snow had melted. Charlie asked Alastor to create a warm oasis so the people could build more homes and buildings sooner. According to Lucifer, she had at least a hundred Demons willing to come to the haven. Many of them were Demons who had lived on the surface or had a family. Hell wasn't exactly much safer than up here.

Pentious, the snake-like Demon from Charlie's group, became head of the guards. He was in charge of making making sure people didn't wander too close to our haven as well as keeping the right people inside. We had a number of children and teens wandering into the forest once the weather became warmer.

I stood on the porch watching from a distance. I could hear the pounding of nails and cutting of wood. Two years ago it was a complete empty field and now it was a true town. Spring would mark three years for me. That made me twenty-four-years old.

I heard kids laughing and couldn't help the smile on my face. Everything was actually getting better this time. Alastor kept his side of the deal and we spent all of winter testing out my Angelic powers. He became much more bearable when he wasn't a total jackass and I found myself actually able to relax around him. His sarcasm still cut like a knife, though.

I let myself scroll through social media on Charlie's phone for ten minutes. She was the only one allowed to have a phone since Vox never seemed to hack it. It kept me in the loop on what was happening outside and it gave Charlie a reason to ask my relationship with Alastor.

Overlords had gained more power during winter, ironically enough since they hated the cold. Their territory grew and it became safer for some Demons to live in certain towns. Humans were trying their best to stay together but any form of retaliation or separation was shut down. At least in this nation. Other nations were still actively hunting them all down.

I noted the time. I usually started a session with Alastor around now but he was off talking to Spencer about something. I took the free afternoon and sprawled myself on the warm grass near the cliff side. The wind was cold but the warm sun soaked into my bones. I could still hear laughter from the haven and the gossip of teens down by the shore.

I fell asleep and woke up just as happy. I opened my wings to stretch and left them wide open, the black scales soaking up the sun even better. For once I was okay with being me. Knowing that I had some Angel in me made me feel better about being part Demon. I knew I wasn't all bad.

I stayed like that for an hour. I was happily content. Things were going in a good direction. I was at peace and I had a feeling I was going to be able to keep it that way for longer. My life wasn't all about fighting and hardships, there was now good in it, too.

I felt Alastor's magic before he appeared. "Peaceful," he commented.

"Very." I kept my eyes closed, still enjoying the sun. I was unbothered by his physical and magical presence. He was quiet for a long time. I opened one eye to check that he was still there and saw his own closed, enjoying the warm sun and salty air. His hair moved in the wind to reveal a small content smile on his face. I mimicked the smile.

One of his eyes caught me looking and I quickly stared up at the sky. The clouds dotted the bright blue landscape, occasionally blocking out the sun but never for too long.

"How have your cravings been?" he broke the silence. His tone wasn't laced with his usual sarcasm this time.

I shrugged, casting a look in his direction. "I always feel it but that's nothing new."

"You may need more with time. Do let me know if more is what you need."

"Sure." I closed my eyes again. I was feeling the craving already but I was trying not give into the feeling every time. I needed to build a resistance to it.

Another few minutes of silence passed. I was drifting into another sleep when he spoke, abruptly pulling me back. "Are you going out tonight?"

"Yeah. Another fighting ring. How did you know?" I turned my head to look at him.

"I have my ways." For once, that saying didn't make my skin crawl. He examined his red claws closely, the other hand on top of his staff.

"What were you talking to Spencer about?" I tried for conversation.

"He's been having some trouble lately. Enemies are seeking him out."

"Oh."

"It's nothing to be concerned about. I took care of them." He licked his lips.

"What about bringing him here?"

His eyebrows lifted. "It would remove him from the outside world."

"We already have a lot of people here," I argued, "And we're mostly trying to get Demons out of Hell so it's not so overrun. They might be more willing to come if they read about what life is like here."

He thought for a moment, bringing a claw up to his chin and eyes drifting to the sea. "That's not a terrible idea."

I scoffed, "Thanks." His eyes went back to me and a smirk pulled at his lips. "What?"

"Oh nothing, darling. Have fun tonight." He turned on his heels and walked towards the house. I noticed the outline of our thread again.

****

I swallowed hard. The fighting ring that had been getting a lot of attention was the same ring as my big fight that Vox had broadcasted. 

I let out my shaky breath. You're a different person now.

Some of the teenagers had come with us, eager to prove themselves useful to the community. Reagan was not among them as she deemed herself unable to help without magic or Demonic attributes. I was slightly grateful because I didn't want to risk putting her in danger again.

Giving the signal to move, the group slithered up through the shadows. We had opened just a few hanging cages before I noticed the new cameras.

Shit.

I was on high alert as everyone worked. The guards were all unconscious and every fighter made it safely across the field. It made me even more nervous when no one showed up by the time we got to the top floor. My eyes were constantly scanning the walls and my magic sense stretched as far out as it could. I was worried about a bullet hitting me like last time.

My ears caught electric static. I spun, ready to face Vox, but came face to face with Striker instead. A pure white rope hung in his claws and an ugly snarl plastered on his face.

"You're dead this time," he growled. He jumped in zig zags up to me, tossing the rope for my head. I morphed into my Dragon and caught it between my teeth.

Different person. Different person. Different person.

I pulled hard to drag him across the ring opening but he jumped over it. I reared up to slam my front claws on him. He jumped out of the way as he threw the other end over my head. It snatched one of my horns and he jerked it hard enough to make my neck POP!

I turned in a circle and whipped my tail at him. It whistled loudly and missed him by a hair. Alcine, my shadow, caught his foot when he landed. His attention diverted, giving me the opening to bring the ceiling down on him. I then opened the floor and casted him straight to the earth. I looked down the hole and waited for one of the rocks to move. But none of them did.

I returned to my Demon form and helped the last of the drowsy fighters down the stairs. I tried to look ahead for the rock pile as we came down but I was too late. White rope caught one of the teenager's throats and they were flung to Striker's feet. He wrapped an arm around their throat and held a knife to their chin.

"One of us is dying tonight, Python!" he yelled. He had lost it. His eyes were wild, his hair a mess, his hat gone, and his clothes torn. "And it ain't gonna be me."

"What do you want?" I snarled, eyes watching the knife closely.

"We're doing this the old fashioned way. No magic. Just skill."

I felt my throat run dry. Striker had his own experience in fighting and each time we had fought, he had won. Magic and Alastor were the only reasons I had escaped his past attempts.

The teenager let out a whimper when he drew blood with the knife. "Alright! Fine."

He shoved the kid away and took a fighting stance. I did the same and waited for him to approach. It didn't take long. He came straight at me this time, knife still in hand. I went to all fours and waited, jumping away at the last second. I whipped my tail up and missed his hand. I needed the knife gone.

He sliced at me, each step faster than the other. My eyes were locked on his chest as my peripherals gauged his speed and distance. I could hear the metal cutting the air, twice catching my nose and cheek.

My back hit a wall. I fell to the ground and shoved him away with my feet. He came again, this time coming from above his head. My hand brushed against his arm and my other hand came up to claw his face. I felt the softness of his eyes and his scream rang in my eardrums.

I grabbed his wrist and wrenched the knife from his grip, sending it clattering across the floor. His elbow came in contact with my nose before his fist did. The back of my head hit the floor and white filled my vision. His claws wrapped around my throat and pressed. One hand pulled on his wrist while the other clawed at his face. My feet pounded the floor as I tried to throw him off.

He let out a snarl and rolled off me. I gasped for air and sat up on my elbows. His knife was buried deep in the back of his shoulder. He snapped his head to look at the teenager who backed away. He spun on me, boot connecting with my face.

I cried out and curled inward. I felt his presence moving away from me and towards the kid. I forced myself on my knees but I couldn't look up yet. My head spun and the whole world tilted to the side.

My ear flicked when I heard the boy scream. I rolled on my side and peered through one eye. He had them on their back with a foot pressing down on their throat. He pulled out a second knife from his hip, raising it above his head.

Alcine grabbed at his shadow and held the knife back. I forced myself to my feet and threw my weight into him. He fell into the wall and we wrestled, raking our claws into ours skin and trying pin the other to the ground. 

"You were always a pain in the ass," he hissed in my ear, grabbing a fistful of my hair and pulling, "Nothing but a bother, nothing but a burden. You're so weak."

"Not anymore," I said through gritted teeth. We both had a grip or arm lock on the other's arm, desperately trying to shove the other to the ground. Blood dripped down our faces as our eyes locked. 

"You always will be." He gave way with his arms so our faces would come closer. "You'll never be enough. Always second best. It's in your nature."

"You don't know me like that anymore." I barely missed the snap of his jaws on my nose. 

"How's Reagan?" he asked nonchalantly. I bristled, falling backwards and throwing him over my head with my legs. He landed on his back, sending the knife deeper into his body, and let out a yell. He tried rolling onto his knees but I restricted his airflow. 

The corners of my vision were red as I thought back to Reagan. She was terrified to leave her room and guilt gnawed at her every time we spoke, all because of him. I then looked at the teenager cowering against the wall, eyes wide and holding their throat as they watched everything unfold. 

"Unfair," he sputtered. My face was blank as I stared down at his struggling figure. Everything about my life was unfair. He had promised me freedom if I won a championship and when I did, he threw me in another cage.

"I'm a Demon, just like you." I casted us in darkness so all he saw was me towering above him. I raised my hand and pointed a black claw at him. "We don't play fair." I flicked my fingers and his head snapped to the side at inhumane speed, killing him instantly. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:

A Demon or an Angel?

[xiaq]

How do you manage your time? Your dayjob seems fairly demanding, you publish books and write fic, you have hobbies...

I'll be honest. My time-management abilities are pretty poor, naturally, and I've had issues with executive dysfunction since grad school. But with the help of a therapist, I've figured out ways to trick my shitty brain into managing my time better, and B has become very adept at assisting in this regard.

Is it silly that I have a workout calendar that I get to put stickers in each time I complete a workout? Yes. Did instituting it DRASTICALLY increase the amount I work out? Also yes. Is it silly that I've pre-set my away hours for my work email and Teams every night, so I automatically appear as "do not disturb unless it's an emergency" after 6pm? Yes. Did doing this drastically decrease the number of messages/calls I'd get after work hours (which I feel duty-bound to respond to, even if 99% of them can wait until the next day)? Also yes. Did setting aside an hour every day for "something wedding related" and then "something writing related" feel very silly? Again, yes. Just like it feels ridiculous to have my partner gently interrupt whatever I'm doing (usually writing) at 9:30/10pm each night to kiss me and tell me if I go get a shower now we can have a cuddle afterward, which A. gets me to shower before midnight but B. the cuddling typically reminds me I'm tired, so then I'll go to sleep before midnight too. It's very silly! My brain is embarrassingly easy to hack! But it works.

A lot of people think therapy is only digging into childhood trauma or having big deep emotionally wrenching sessions, which, sure, sometimes it is, but most of my therapy sessions in February–April this year were about helping me set and maintain (and get help maintaining) reasonable boundaries/expectations of myself in terms of work/writing/wedding planning/living balance so I didn't burn myself out. And it's worked!!

Maybe one day next week I'll film a time-lapse of my entire day and do a voiceover pointing out all the little shit I do re time management that therapy has helped with on a day-to-day basis. I bet there's even more stuff than I actively remember right now.

[autumnshighlady]

I’ve Always Liked to Play With Fire (part 16)

NESTA ARCHERON X ERIS VANSERRA X FEMALE!READER

summary: the moment you’ve all been waiting for, that’s all i can say

warnings: Night Court slander, pro-Tamlin, 

word count: 7.7k (y’all better appreciate how long this is)

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: THIS IS THE BIGGEST CHAPTER YET GUYS!! so much is revealed that i’ve been planning for MONTHS, i’m so excited to share it with you. please send me all your reactions!

feedback is appreciated, just no hate pls! these are just my opinions, i’m more curious to see how you all like the writing and characterization and storylines!

part 1 // part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12 / part 13 / part 14 / part 15 / 

read on ao3

Spotify playlist

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

The stench of blood and shredded flesh was choking your senses, clogging your throat like the thickest oil. Everything was happening in slow motion through the stained glass as Hybern’s soldiers retreated, crowing their victory as if it took a great deal of skill to slaughter a defenceless village. Their cries were muffled, as if you were underwater. Every limb ached, too stiff and heavy to move even an inch. No amount of effort could get you to lift your head up.

You were going to die here. That much you had accepted.

What would be the point in living anyway? With your entire village dead, you closed your eyes, waiting for the embrace of death to whisk you away. Each breath was like shredding a knife through your chest, what was taking so long? Everyone else was gone, yet you were cursed with the ability to still draw breath.

A strange, white flicker drew your eyelids open. Everything was blurry, but even in your dazed state you could tell that something was happening. Groaning, you stretched out your fingers. If you had a voice, you knew you’d be screaming at the pain from such a simple movement. As your palm outstretched, something warm and gentle closed around it, as if the sweet spring breeze itself had formed a hand of its own to clasp yours. The touch was gentle, reassuring even. It flooded you with a sense of calm. Was this what death was like?

The white flickering from the bodies in the village erupted in a shower of starlight and sunshine, glowing tendrils rising from the mangled fae in your line of vision. They descended upon you like smoke, and the warm touch around your hand squeezed once before agony overtook your body.

You didn’t know if you were screaming or not. Your throat burned as if a dagger had slashed it open. Your abdomen ached, as if it was being hacked apart by a longsword. It felt like Hybern’s soldiers had descended upon you with their weapons, striking and cutting a thousand times. You heard nothing but the ringing in your ears as your body shook with spasms.

Please just let me die faster, You pleaded to the Mother. I can’t take this. Just end it already.

Even throughout the unbearable pain that wracked your body, you could still feel the warm sensation like someone was squeezing your palm. You wondered if it was your mother, preparing to guide you into whatever afterlife lay ahead. But the pain didn’t stop, didn’t end. It just kept going for what felt like eons. And then, like a weighted blanket was being laid over you, it stopped.

*********************

“Wake up.”

You opened your eyes and groaned, Rhysand’s voice making your already pounding head worse. You had endured hours of hearing it scraping against your mental shields, pressing to try and find a way in. You had felt his anger, his frustration and disbelief at not being able to get through. Every ounce of his hatred had been flung at you like a thousand arrows, making you see right through the High Lord.

You felt his self righteousness, his true feelings about how he didn’t give a shit about anything but his precious circle. Even them, he looked down upon – including his own mate and High Lady. As Rhysand flung his thoughts at you, you read them like paper on parchment. He may love Feyre and his family, but at the end of the day he needed control. And there you were, a stain on his image, a brick out of place at the foundation of his empire, threatening to bring the whole thing down.

Rhysand, the High Lord of the Night Court, feared you.

He was afraid of your influence, how openly rebelling on him and calling out his lies might spread ideas to others. Especially with Nesta, Cauldron-made, on your side. The thought of Rhys being afraid of you would have made you laugh, if you weren’t tied up in a cell for days on end. You weren’t even sure how you were still alive

You never figured out what happened that day your village was attacked, after the slaughter ceased and you were left alone. Every time you closed your eyes, that glowing light from the bodies around you haunted your dreams. You weren’t sure if it was even real, if any of it actually happened or if your mind had made it up. But you had felt different since that day in a way that couldn’t be explained. It was as if something coursed through your bones, waiting to answer a call.

You were changed that day, and for months you had chalked it up to your state of mind being altered by something so traumatic. But you had been in this cell without food for longer than your body, even as a faerie, should have been able to survive. Something that clearly also perplexed your captor as he stared at you.

“I don’t understand you, (Y/N).” Rhysand said with lethal calm. “Nothing about you makes sense. You happen to survive a slaughter at the hands of Hybern, you infiltrate my court and make a magical bond with Nesta Archeron that nobody has ever seen before, and you somehow resist my magic. I want to know how you’re able to do that.”

You spat up the blood that had been pooling in your mouth. “Go fuck yourself. Prick.”

The High Lord chuckled, but continued as if you hadn’t spoken. “And to top it off, you’ve been scheming with Eris Vanserra this whole time. Plotting to overthrow me, perhaps? To rip my court out from under me like Feyre did to your beloved Tamlin? If it is revenge you are after, I suggest you rethink your plan.”

You said nothing. It would be pointless to argue with him. Anything you say would be twisted and used against you, so you held your tongue.

“It matters not,” Rhys continued, pacing back and forth with his hands in his pockets. “Because you failed in whatever it is you wanted to accomplish. You are here, locked in this dungeon where nobody can find you. And whether I grant you a merciful death or not depends on you answering this one simple question.”

Rhys stopped pacing, and leaned towards you. His face was inches away from yours, violet eyes boring into you like lasers. You could feel his breath on your face as he spoke. “What spell did you use to cast the bond? Gwyn’s story only tells us so much, if any of it is even related to this, but I know there’s more to it”

You huffed, cracked lips stinging with the effort of speaking. “You seemed to have a list of other questions, what happened to those?”

“Oh, I have other ways of finding out the answers to almost everything else. But with Nesta Archeron tucked away somewhere in Autumn, you are the only other person who can speak to the magic of the spell.” Rhys’ slender finger caressed your cheek, making you squirm with discomfort. “And if you cooperate like a good girl, how about I make you a deal? I will let Nesta live out whatever shit life she wants in Autumn in peace, provided you give me what I need.”

Your breath lurched, the horror of his insinuation dawning on you. Rhys never intended to let Nesta live peacefully in Autumn, not because he cared for her safety in the clutches of Beron, but because losing her made him look weak. Even if Nesta was married to Eris and protected by the whole of Autumn, Rhysand would take every opportunity he could to hunt her like a dog and bring her back.

No doubt he’d paint himself as the hero of the situation. Poor Nesta Archeron, stolen away by the evil Autumn prince and made a bride against her will. Rhysand would save her from her terrible fate, dragging her back to the Night Court to be hailed a saviour. And that would be the last time Nesta ever stepped out of Night, he would make sure of it. Under the illusion of caring for his beloved sister in law, of course.

You glared at him, but he only chuckled again. Rhys leaned away from you and stood back upright, picking at the sleeve of his shirt casually. “It matters not,” He said. “Azriel is on his way right now. He’ll tell me what he’s discovered, and when the sun rises over the mountains, he will kill you.”

It felt like a bucket of ice had been dumped on your body as you remembered the fading voices of Rhys’ command to his spymaster before you had passed out. You didn’t know what Azriel would do. On the one hand, he had stood up for you in a way that Rhys clearly hadn’t expected. But on the other, he has been loyal to the prick for five centuries – holding out hope that would change now was foolish. All you could truly hope for was that he granted you a quick death.

“What if he didn’t find anything?” You croaked. “Still gonna kill me then? I thought you were desperate to find answers.”

“If Azriel cannot find them, then there is nobody that can,” The High Lord countered simply, as if he were making idle chit chat. “And then whatever secrets you’re so determined to keep die with you, the magic along with it. That’s something I can live with if not knowing at the end of the day means protecting my court.”

You laughed bitterly. “As if you care about that?”

Rhys’ eyes narrowed, his body stilling like a predator frozen before the kill. “Excuse me?”

“You sure don’t give a shit about most of it.” You challenged brazenly. “The women in Illyria who still get their wings clipped, anyone who has the misfortune of living outside Velaris, you don’t care about anyone but yourself and your little family. You rule because you like the power, not because you care about the people your power is supposed to protect.”

“I have outlawed wing clipping in Illyria–” Rhys growled, but you interrupted him.

“And without enforcing it harshly you have only ensured that the practice of wing clipping becomes more underground, leaving females to die from mangled procedures.”

If looks could kill, Rhysand’s would have obliterated you. But you couldn’t help but smirk to yourself at the anger you elicited from the High Lord. Judging by his reaction you knew that he knew you were right. He just hated hearing it.

“I see Azriel taught you too much.” Rhys hissed.

“What did I teach her too much of?”

You flinched as Azriel’s voice echoed in the chamber. Out of the shadows he appeared, melting into the space of the dark cell like wax. His expression was unreadable, and he did not look at you. He faced his brother, not sparing you a single glance.

“Azriel, I am very glad you’re here.” Rhys’ voice singsonged, an obnoxiously chipper tone to it. The smug look on his face made you tense up preparing for the worst.

Gwyn was the only other person who knew about what magic was used to cast the bond between you and Nesta. Your gut twisted at the thought of Azriel going to her for answers. The priestess had sworn she would never breathe a word, but in more ways than one Azriel could be… persuasive. Rhys had already figured out the story the spell was based on by going into her mind, if he knew what else she had found….

You were certain of one thing though: if Azriel had harmed Gwyn in any way, you’d tear him limb from limb.

“I assume you’re going to be more helpful than this one here regarding information on the bond?” Rhys continued, crossing his arms proudly.

Silence that was almost too loud took over the cell for a few moments, until Azriel uttered one word from his lips. “No.”

Rhys blinked in surprise. “No?” He said. “You mean you honestly found nothing?”

A tentative flicker of hope ignited in your chest. Azriel was stone faced as he answered to his High Lord. “Correct. The library was of no use, even the restricted section. I found nothing resembling the bond (Y/N) and Nesta used.”

The High Lord’s eyes narrowed, and he cocked his head. “Interesting. You are usually more useful than this, Az.”

“I explored all of my available resources and found nothing.” Azriel’s voice was monotone, no emotion or life to it. It was the voice of a spy, unreadable and impossible to decipher. It made you nervous, unsure of what angle he was playing at. Azriel was not stupid, he had to know Gwyn would have been the one to give you and Nesta access to the information.

Which means whatever his reasoning was, he chose to keep Rhysand in the dark.

“Pity.” Rhys clucked his tongue in disappointment. “I know dear Amren was dying to find out what spell it was. But it doesn't matter anymore. I guess we’ll all have to live with the disappointment, won’t we?”

Azriel remained motionless as he spoke. “I am sorry I failed you.”

Another minute of silence overcame the cell. You barely even breathed, heart racing with every passing second. Until Rhys spoke the words you had been anticipating for days. “Kill her.”

The shadowsinger shifted, standing more upright. As your heart dropped into your stomach, you anticipated him reaching for truth-teller. If he had kept the information about the spell out of Rhysand’s hands, you took it as a sign he would make your death quick and clean at least. And so you closed your eyes, finding yourself for the second time in one year waiting for death to come and claim you.

“No.”

Azriel’s firm words made your eyes snap open in confusion. Rhysand was taking a deep breath, as if trying to keep himself calm and collected before he spoke. “And why not?” The High Lord said icily.

“Because this is wrong.” Azriel said, shifting his weight as if the mere act of disobeying his High Lord caused him discomfort. He glanced at you, eyes softening for a second as he spoke. “And she is my friend.”

“Please,” Rhys scoffed angrily. “No she is not. She was manipulating you, you fool. Maybe her pretty face kept your shadows distracted enough from figuring that out, but she is not your friend. She is your prisoner, whom your High Lord is ordering you to kill.”

“I said no.”

You glanced uneasily between them, not expecting Azriel to openly defend you like this. Rhys, apparently, felt the same thing. His breath was uneven, and his voice laced with rage as he spoke. “What has gotten into you, Azriel? Are you really going to disobey me like this?”

Azriel argued back, trying to reason with his brother. “Rhys, what we are doing to this female is wrong. All signs point to her wanting just to be free, not to bring harm to your court. She has no desire to overthrow you, or whatever bizarre shit your brain has come up with. Killing her would be wrong.”

“SHE IS A FUCKING THREAT TO MY COURT!” Rhys suddenly bellowed, his loud yell hurting your ears as it echoed throughout the chamber. Without warning, Rhysand shoved Azriel against the wall, a loud crack sounding as the spymaster’s wings collided with solid rock. He groaned in pain, but did not fight back.

. “And I am ORDERING you to do your job and eliminate her.” Rhys growled at him, pressing his neck into the wall. “If you do not, then I–”

“Do it yourself, coward.” You spat with as much defiance as you could. You hated seeing Azriel let his brother overpower him, watching him give up because he thought he deserved punishment for disobedience. You did not necessarily see eye to eye with the shadowsinger on everything – hell, there were times where his bystanderism made him just as bad as the rest of his circle.

But you could not let this happen to you, because it was all your fault. It was because of you he was in this position – his job, his family, his life on the line because he was trying to help you.

Rhys froze, pausing whatever blow he was about to land on his spymaster before he slowly turned to gaze at you. “What did you just say?”

“I said…” Every word was an effort, but a surge of determination flooded through you. “Kill me yourself, you fucking coward. Do your own dirty work for once.”

Rhysand snarled, letting go of Azriel with a shove. He stormed over towards you and grabbed your throat, hand gripping it like talons. His face was pure rage, the ugly face behind the charming mask, the illusion finally shattered. “I’m going to enjoy this,” He spat in your face. “And when I’m done, I’m going to drag Nesta back here kicking and screaming if I have to. And she will meet this very same fate once I make her scream.”

Something deep inside of you snapped. A strange sensation coursed through your bones, filling your broken body with life once again. Your wrists no longer ached, your back was no longer stiff. You could barely hear over the roaring in your head as you pictured Nesta’s beautiful face in your mind. The ringing in your ears became so loud, and before the High Lord of the Night Court unleashed his dark mist upon you, the world went white.

*********************

Wake up.

It was not the snarling, arrogant voice of Rhysand that greeted you, but a soft female one. It was familiar yet foreign all at once, the sound of both one voice and a thousand altogether, blended like a strange melody. Your eyes fluttered open, and you were met with a familiar scene.

Your village.

The bodies had gone, only ash and dirt remaining where they once were. The buildings remained in ruins, like the memorial of an ancient city. Vines had begun to curl over the rooftops, circling down the sides of what remained of the houses that Hybern did not burn down. Flowers had blossomed across the earth, a stark contrast to the death and destruction that had occurred on the very same soil all those months ago. You glanced at your arms, which were free from the cuts and bruises inflicted upon you in the dungeon. You felt no pain.

“Do you remember what happened that day?”

You jumped as the female voice sounded behind you. Whirling around, you were met with a tall female. She had olive skin and warm brown eyes, with long brown hair that shone like the rays of the sun itself. Her face was kind but strong, and she wore sparling robes that almost blended in with her skin. She emitted an otherworldly glow, a kind of radiance that shook you to your very core.

“Who… who are you?” You stuttered.

The female smiled softly, her elegant hands clasped together. “I am Estelle.”

Your mind raced, putting together the pieces from Gwyn’s information. “Like… the mother goddess from the story? Jayana’s lover?”

She nodded. “A millenia later, and I find myself missing her every day. Much like you miss your Nesta.”  

You took a steady breath, shaking your head. “Am I dead? Is this the afterlife?”

The goddess chuckled softly. “No, my child, you are not dead. You are here for a reason, one which requires an answer to my question. Do you remember this day?”

You paused, taking a few steps back and scanning the clearing. Your heart ached at the sight of it so empty, so quiet and lifeless. It held so many good memories, ones that were now tainted with bloodshed and violence. “Not all of it…”

“Do you ever have dreams, my child? Dreams where you’re back in this clearing, body seized with pain so violent it felt like you were dying a thousand times?”

You felt her presence follow you as you wandered aimlessly. “Yes…” You muttered. “Are you going to tell me that really happened?”

“Is that what you want me to tell you?”

You whirled around, facing the female once again. “Look, I don’t know what the hell is happening right now. Or at all, frankly. I’ve had enough riddles, can you please just tell me why I’m here?”

Despite your anger, Estelle showed no sign of hurt at your sharp words. There was sorrow behind her eyes, an understanding, one that you felt could see into every inch of your soul.

“You know my story, correct?” She said softly. You nodded.

“Good,” She continued. “When I absorbed the life forces of my fallen comrades, I felt each and every one of their deaths. It tore through my body like a riptide, and I was sure it was going to break me.  I felt their rage, their fear, their anguish as they were slaughtered much like your village was. And after that day, I held a new power, one that allowed me to escape Hel and break the realms of the world apart.”

Your throat was dry, a dizziness overcoming you as the weight of her words dawned on you. Every dream you had about that day, every nightmare that ended in blinding light and pain was the exact experience that the goddess in the story had felt. “What are you saying?” Your voice was quiet as you asked a question you were pretty sure you knew the answer to.

“My child,” Estelle said. “The same thing happened to you. What you felt that day was the life force of everyone in your village flooding into your body. You felt each and every one of their deaths, and I am sorry you had to experience that. But it happened for a reason.” You weren’t sure you were breathing at this point. You rested your hands on your knees, trying to stabilise yourself. “Do you mean….” Your voice stuttered as you spoke. “Do you mean that… what I felt that day… what I felt afterwards…”

Your voice trailed off, but a warm hand on your shoulder reassured you.

“Yes. Your body now possesses the life force of hundreds of deaths, a power you can shape and wield however you choose.”

The feeling of the goddess’s hand on your shoulder struck something in you. All those times you felt that invisible touch, that reassuring presence that you thought you had imagined… You had thought it was maybe the Mother, but it dawned over you that it had been Estelle this whole time. Hers was the hand that held yours as you felt the deaths of your friends and family rip through you. Hers was the voice that helped you stay strong as Rhysand tortured you.

“This whole time…” You said breathlessly, her presence behind you like a warm light on your back. “I thought it was the Mother guiding me. But it was you.”

“My dear, we are one and the same.”

You whipped around to face the goddess. “You’re the Mother?”

Estelle simply smiled. “The war that took Jayana from me was centuries before Prythian was formed. After I escaped Hel, I wandered about the universe, utterly lost. Until I found this untamed world, unguided by any spirit. I did not ask to be named the Mother, but my true name had been lost in my years alone. So I became her, but I never forgot who I was. And I never will.”

You ran a hand through your hair, mind spinning with the overload of information. The story of Jayana and Estelle was not only true, but Estelle was the Mother herself, the being that watched over Prythian and was worshipped all over the land. Not only that, but you were living what Estelle had experienced hundreds and thousands of years ago.

“Why?” Was all you could ask, not knowing what to say.

“Not everything has to have an answer,” Estelle said, taking your hand in her own. “And I urge you not to expect to know the explanation for everything after this. But as for why you are here, I needed you to know the truth. You refused to believe your dreams, and chose to try and forget about them instead of asking yourself if they were really just imaginary. You possess the power of life now, just as I do. And you are in a terrible situation, my child. I ask that you recall my story, and use this power to find your way back to your mate.”

Even in this strange dreamy reality, time seemed to stop. Mate. The world itself seemed to spiral down upon you as the word replayed in your head over and over again.

Nesta was your mate.

“But… but Cassian is Nesta’s mate.” Was all you could sputter out. Something stirred in you, as if awoken by the realisation. It was like the bond, but stronger. Its presence in your chest was undeniable, reaching out as if it were searching for its other half.  

“Fae folk can have more than one mate in some instances. Nesta Archeron has more than one, but Cassian is not one of them.”

“How–”

Estelle cut you off, more urgency in her voice than before. “I have already told you not to expect the answers to every question you have just yet. All will reveal itself in time. But Jayana and I were mates before I created the spell that allowed us to communicate. Therefore, in order for the magic to work, the spell had to be done between two mates. The daemati-like powers is the only thing that spell gives. Everything else you feel? That deeper connection to Nesta? It was already there in the mating bond. The spell had nothing to do with it.”

“Holy shit.” You gasped, blood racing. “So you’re saying… Nesta and I are mates, and that’s why the spell worked?”

She nodded. “And why Rhysand was not able to activate it. It can only be done so between two mates, no matter how powerful an outsider’s magic is. And your magic is also the reason he cannot get into your head. You are protected from all other daemati magic.”

“I’m going to pass out…” You muttered, taking a seat on the log a few feet away. Within seconds, Estelle’s, or the Mother’s, appeared beside you.

“Everything happens for a reason, my child. You received those powers for a reason. You came across my story for a reason. I didn’t have a chance to use the spell to find my way back to my mate, but you do. Seize it.”

That strange presence in your bones you had felt after you woke up from the massacre, it wasn’t imagined after all. Deep down, you had always known something otherworldly happened. But you had spent months pushing it aside, trying to ignore it out of fear of what it was. “This is all just happening inside my head, isn’t it?”

Estelle’s long robes rustled in the breeze. “Of course it is,” She said. “But that does not mean it’s not real. Across the universe, there are multiple realities. Multiple versions of oneself that may seem like different people, but are all variants of one another. With beings like me, that does not happen unless we make it so. You, (Y/N), are an incarnate version of me. It’s why this is happening in your head. I am not some external being that is inside your mind right now. I am you, and you are me.”

You were the Mother incarnate. Holy shit. It felt like a dream, but the presence beside you was too strong to be anything but real. “If people have variants of each other,” You asked, trying to keep your voice steady. “Does that mean….Nesta is Jayana?”

“In a sense,” Estelle responded. “The connection is not direct like with you and I. I saw your situation when Hybern attacked your village, and I kept you alive by having your body absorb the life force of the dead just like I had. And thus, you became a version of me. Nesta Archeron is her own person, but fate seems to like its parallels. I see much of Jayana in her. They both have the same temper, both represent a death goddess feared across all the lands.”

You frowned. “You mean you aren’t the decider of fate? I thought everything that happened was with your guidance?”

She laughed melodically, the sound like the song of birds on a spring morning. “No, my child. I decide many things, yes. But not all. None of us do, and we do not know what does.”

Estelle’s words echoed in your mind like a hurricane, threatening to overwhelm you. But it didn’t, because in a way, everything made sense. She had no reason to lie, even if this was just some bizarre dream or afterlife sentence. The way you felt that connection to Nesta, that force in your body that threatened to explode when you were angry, it all aligned with what the goddess beside you was saying.

“I cannot linger any longer,” Estelle murmured, covering your shaking hands with her own. “But remember how I got out of Hel. Find that power buried within you and rattle the stars with it. I will always be there alongside you, my child. You are never alone.”

You turned to say something, another hundred questions racing through your mind, but the world around you glowed as the Mother faded into the light. Within a few seconds, she had gone.

Once again, you looked at the clearing around you. The marks on the earth where the bodies had lain seemed to glow, calling out to you. A force deep within you sung in response, begging you to release it. As you poured over Estelle’s words, you recalled how the magic she absorbed allowed her to burst out of Hel and free herself.

Rattle the stars.

Her wording was deliberate. The Night Court was represented by the stars. You knew not the extent of your powers, but if your theory was right, you could make the entire Night Court feel your fury.

And so you closed your eyes, and let the clearing slip away as you let that power you’d been pushing down surge through you. It felt like you were falling, the clearing swallowing up as you descended into a void of light.

*********************

It could have been a millenia you were falling, or perhaps a second. As you let yourself go down into the base of whatever power lay within you, you felt memories crash into you all at once. Your mother’s smile as she presented you with her freshly baked scones. The feeling of Nesta’s lips as she kissed you for the first time. Lucien pressing a cold cloth to your head when you were sick. Eris holding you as you danced in the Hewn City. Rhysand’s smirk as he carved into you like a piece of meat.

The rage that boiled up as Rhysand’s face flashed through your mind quickened your plummet, your power bubbling up and ready to overflow. And so you opened your eyes.

A look of horror crossed Rhysand’s features as your eyes glowed with a bright white half a second before his magic went to strike you down. Dark mist collided with pure light as you exploded with a war cry of ancient times.

*********************

White hot rage was all you could feel as you unleashed yourself. Rage of the Spring Court souls whose life forces you had absorbed crying out with you for vengeance against the Night Court. Rhysand was thrown back, Azriel too as your light exploded. The walls around you crumbled, your chains shattering as everything around you came crashing down. The earth beneath your feet shook, the rock from the prison walls flying a hundred feet out to either side.

Wind ripped against your face as the mountain your cell had been inside crumbled away before you, creating avalanches of stone whose impact upon the ground sounded like thunder. Your blood sang, as if the life force within you was happy to be used. Surprisingly, Velaris was visible in the distance – you had thought your prison would be some remote mountain in Illyria. But perhaps Rhys knew that’s what everyone would assume, and keeping you closer to his home would keep you from being discovered.

Out of the shadows, Rhysand and Azriel appeared from the smoke, coughing violently. As they finally opened their eyes to look at you, pure wonder crossed their faces. You didn’t have to look down at yourself to know you were glowing with that same light Estelle had. Your gaze landed upon Azriel, who froze like a statue as it landed on him.

He didn’t cower, or scurry away. He simply gazed at you in awe for a few more moments before dipping his head, bowing before your presence. Rhys, on the other hand, got to his feet and snarled.

“What are you?” The High Lord hissed, gathering dark mist between his fingertips.

“I am Life,” The voice you responded with was not entirely your own – it was ancient and prophetic, with the authority of a god. “And your court has taken everything from me. You will pay for your crimes, High Lord Rhysand.”

Rhys made a vicious noise, talons of mist forming at his fingertips. You quickly realised that despite what you had just done, you had no clue how to defend yourself with your power. But before he could make the first blow, a ring of silver fire burst through the air and surrounded him, accompanied by a fierce roar from the sky. As you looked up, letting your eyes adjust to the bright daylight, you gasped at the sight before you.

Three dragons were flying towards the ruined mountain. One black, one silver, and one gold. The golden one was without a rider, circling the ruins around you and crying out. A familiar redhead was perched atop the black one, golden armour shining in the midday sun.

Eris, a golden flame atop a black fire breathing mount, had come to your rescue. But it was the silver dragon your eyes were drawn to, and that piece in your chest that had spent the last few weeks reaching out to Nesta crackled with excitement as you gazed upon the silver dragon’s mount.

Dressed in red, scaling armour was Nesta. Even from the ground, you could see her silver eyes glow in the same shade as the flames surrounding Rhysand. She had the wrathful look of a death goddess as she descended with her dragon, its silver wings creating hurricane like gusts of wind as it hovered before you and Rhys.

Nesta and Eris had come to save you.

You couldn’t help but glance at Azriel, who seemed sagged with relief. Your throat closed up with emotion – the spymaster knew Eris and Nesta would show up, and likely told them exactly where.

“Nesta.” Rhys growled, staring up at his sister-in-law with anger. “Leave.”

“Not without (Y/N).” Nesta’s voice was clear and strong, commanding Rhys like a queen commanding her subjects. Her dragon roared furiously at Rhysand, causing the High Lord to flinch.

“Dragons?” He sputtered, coughing as the smoke from the silver flames blew in his face. “What… how?”

“You have your surprises, Rhysand, and I have mine.” Eris piped up, landing his black dragon on the ground. The earth shook with its impact, sending more rocks crashing down the remains of the mountain.

Weariness took over your body, and you felt the light begin to fade as your magic retreated.

No no no, You cursed to yourself, trying to summon it again. But every muscle in your body ached from the sudden surge, unable to bear any more magic. You felt helpless again, trapped. Rhysand tried to take a step towards you, but scurried back as the ground once again shook, this time behind you.

The golden dragon had landed right behind you and let out a vicious roar towards Rhysand, its eyes glowing with fury. It stood protectively over your shoulder, towering over you menacingly in a way that promised certain death to anyone who made a move.

“Dragons are protective creatures,” Eris said. “I wouldn’t get any closer.”

“You’ve invaded my court,” Rhysand hissed. “This is an act of war.”

Eris chuckled. “Technically, you declared war first. We’re just finishing what you started.”

Before anyone could speak up, a horn sounded from the ridge in the distance. You whirled around, the motion making you slightly dizzy. But your eyes were clear as ever as the banners of the Spring Court appeared over the hill.

Armoured bodies marched in synch as soldiers approached on horseback, led by none other than Lucien. His cloak streamed behind him in the wind as he loped towards the scene of the wreckage. You nearly wept, not having seen him since he rescued you. From the look on his face, Lucien felt the same way.

A different type of roar was carried fast in the wind, and a mighty beast winnowed in front of the army and led the march. Its elk-like antlers and massive body sped ahead of his troops with his great stride, bounding towards you.

“What is going on here?” Rhysand demanded, unable to hide the slight panic from his voice.

“You started this war when you stole (Y/N) from Spring,” Eris said coolly, patting his dragon. “We’ve found it in our best interests to align with Tamlin over the matter, not you.”

The dragons did not react as Tamlin’s beast form landed right beside them, growling. Tears streamed down your face in relief – the High Lord you had looked up to, the male you had helped get back on his feet, had joined in on the effort to save you.

“Rhysand.” Tamlin growled in greeting.

“If this is some sort of revenge plan on Feyre–” Rhysand began, but was quickly interrupted.

“This is not about her,” The High Lord of Spring snapped. “This is about (Y/N). You have kidnapped and imprisoned an esteemed member of my court, which is considered an act of war. I do not want to shed blood, but we will if you refuse to let her return to me.”

“(Y/N) is a member of my court now.” Rhys responded, evening out his voice. You knew he was trying to put on his collected mask, but it was cracked and slipping. You snorted at the weakness of his voice, and the dragon behind you made a similar noise, as if it was mirroring you.

“Is she?” Lucien said, halting his horse next to Tamlin and looking at Rhysand with a hatred you didn’t know he had. “Because she is still registered as a member of Spring. You never opened any accounts or filed any legal documents with her name, so according to the law there is no proof that you have taken her in as an official member. Which means you have wrongfully imprisoned a member of another court.”

“This is absurd.” Rhys scoffed. “Get out of my court. Now. This is my business.”

“Hand (Y/N) over and we will.” Lucien responded. The armies of the Spring Court halted a few metres behind the dragons, hands clasping their weapons, ready for the order to jump into action.

Malice glittered in Rhys’ eyes. You knew he wouldn’t give up easily, not when you had already made him look weak once. “No.” He said firmly.

No sooner had the syllable left his lips did a band of silver fire wrap around his throat. He cried out in pain as the flame danced, licking at his skin but not quite burning. The silver dragon’s roar turned all eyes to Nesta, and your heart jumped at the sight.

Nesta had stood up on her dragon’s back, silver flames wrapped around her fingertips and arms. The clouds darkened above everyone, thunder rumbling in the distance as her eyes glowed brighter.

“You locked me up.” Nesta’s voice was cold as ice and sharp as steel. Nobody moved a muscle as it echoed alongside the eerie cries of the wind. “I helped you, dozens of times. And you locked me up because I didn’t cope with the war YOU dragged me into in the way you deemed acceptable. I was an object to you, one to use and exploit when it suited you only to lock me away again when you were done. None of your circle has had any respect for me, Rhysand. From the beginning, you have pitted yourselves against me because it’s easier to make me the bad guy than take a look at your own flaws and mistakes. You took my human life, my money, my house, and everything I had. I was never a person to you, just a problem.”

Even Tamlin had gone completely still as Nesta twisted her hand, causing another band of fire to appear. This time, it bound Rhys’ hands and ankles, forcing him to his knees. Black mist attempted to make its way through the fire, but was rapidly quenched. Rhysand’s magic was no match for Nesta’s fury.

“I am taking my life back, Rhysand.” Nesta said. “And you and my sister will have no say or part in it. Do not come after me, do not try and bring me back here. If you try, I will burn you to nothing but ash.”

Rhysand growled, thrashing against Nesta’s fire. “Azriel!” He barked. “Do something!”

The shadowsinger was pale faced, surveying the scene before him. “Let her go,” He said sternly. “This is a fight we cannot win.”

You found your feet again, standing up on shaky legs. You summoned more magic – your body protested, but you ignored it as a shimmering white gag wrapped around Rhysand’s mouth, joining his silver flames.

“This isn’t a debate.” You panted, the weight of your tattered, shredded dress making you want to collapse. But you relented. “I am leaving with them, and you will let me.”

Tamlin’s beast form crawled towards Rhysand, growling. “I was wrong to lock Feyre up, I know that.” He spat. “But don’t pretend like you didn’t do the exact same thing to Nesta and (Y/N).”

Rhys mumbled something through the gag, but was ignored. You felt a nudge, and the golden dragon was gently pushing its snout into you. You placed your hand on its nose, letting the beast inhale your scent.

“Zorzimril says it’s time to go.” Eris quipped, smirking down at you. “Let’s get you out of here.”

You nodded, glancing up at Nesta. Your mate.

Her eyes were locked on you, and a faint tear ran down her cheek. Tentatively, you reached towards the spell-made bond. Nesta?

I…. I can’t believe I’m hearing your voice. Nesta’s response came, and so did your tears. Your lungs shook as you inhaled deeply between sobs.

Me too.

There will be time to catch up later. Come, let’s leave.

The golden dragon had lowered its shoulder to the ground and looked at you expectantly. Tentatively, you climbed onto its back, grasping the horns down its spine as you settled yourself. From the view on dragonback, you surveyed the site you had been standing on. Rubble from the mountain was everywhere, the great peak crumbled into a small hill. The gags on Rhys had disappeared, but he remained kneeling, face twisted with anger. Azriel stood beside him, a hand on his shoulder and giving Eris a slight nod. Tamlin and Lucien stood side by side once again, united with a common cause. Your heart swelled as you recognized the faces of the soldiers they brought – many of them fae that you had taken into the manor after losing their homes to Hybern. You could see it in their eyes that they had come not just because they were ordered to, but because they wanted to help you like you had helped them.

“Let’s get out of this wretched court.” Eris sighed, winking at you.

“Wait.” You said as an idea popped into your head. “I have something I want to do first.”

Nesta smirked at you, knowing exactly what you meant.

*********************

You, Nesta, and Eris soared on dragonback through the Night Court, approaching the Inner Circle’s mountainside cabin. You relished in the cold air whipped across your face, having not felt fresh air in weeks. Zorzimril happily flew you alongside Nesta, making happy growling noises as the excitement of what you were about to do made you jittery.

As your dragons approached the cabin, they stopped, hovering in the air above it. You looked towards Nesta and Eris, and they gave you a nod. You shouted the command Nesta had taught you, and Zorzimril unleashed a torrent of flames upon the cabin. The scent of burnt wood filled the air as the structure was quickly engulfed. Within ten seconds, it was reduced to ash.

And so the three of you flew to each remote residence of the inner circle, making sure it was away from the city before burning it to the ground. With every palace set aflame you whopped with delight, causing Eris to chuckle. It was satisfying, watching their luxuries burn down while half of Illyria was starving and poor. The Inner Circle had fled to the River House, the one shared residence of theirs that remained intact due to it being in the city centre. You did not want to punish innocent people for the crimes of their leader, like Feyre had done to your court. No, this was proper vengeance. And you relished in it.

Despite your exhaustion and pain from the last few weeks, you let yourself cheer and cry out on the back of Zorzimril as you soared through the air between Nesta and Eris, headed for the thicket of the autumn trees in the distance, leaving the Night Court behind you.

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[pluckyredhead]

So the Bill Willingham Steph post crossed my dash again and got me wondering... if you're a writer, what IS the best way to respond to fans (singular or group) that publicly call out your writing at a con? Obviously you shouldn't wish violence on them but since it's not like you can un-write the story, do you ignore them? Change the subject? Argue back?

I mean, I can't pretend to know the BEST way to handle a volatile question in a public space, when saying nothing is not an option.

But I also want to challenge the idea that fans were "calling out [Willingham's] writing," because that wasn't what they were doing. Sure, plenty of people said he was a hack online. But at cons, what they were asking was "Why doesn't Steph have a memorial case?"

I always hammer that point home because it's so astonishing to me now. We didn't want them to bring Steph back from the dead. We just wanted them to memorialize her fairly. We were asking for crumbs, and it infuriated Willingham and DC Editorial. To the point that when they did bring Steph back by revealing Leslie Thompson had faked Steph's death, Tim goes "So that's why she didn't have a memorial case!" They would rather have her alive than give a bunch of (mostly) female fans the tiny bit of fairness they had been asking for. It's just mind-boggling to me now how little we were willing to settle for and how angry it still made DC.

Anyway, the decision to kill Steph was editorially mandated, and the decision not to give her a case was also editorially mandated - neither of those were Willingham's decision to make. (The other objection fans had, the sexualized depiction of Black Mask torturing Steph, was also not Willingham's fault - that was artist Jon Proctor.) Now, obviously Willingham couldn't just say "Not my fault, ask DC" because throwing his employer under the bus would not have been good for his career. But DC also shouldn't have hung him out to dry.

I think ideally with any controversial storyline, the publisher should have a discussion with the creators about the best way to handle questions so that everyone is on the same page. But what happens instead is that creators (underpaid freelancers who are almost all in precarious financial circumstances) bear the full brunt of any anger, blame, or harassment, and the publishers (massive corporations*) get to ignore it.

Of course, in Willingham's case, he was not harassed, but asked a polite question ("Why doesn't Steph have a memorial case?") that he probably could have easily said was up to DC without getting in trouble. But instead he chose to publicly fantasize about committing violence against real women, because he was annoyed. So that's DEFINITELY not the answer.

So in conclusion: in general publishers should step up more, in specific Willingham is a fucking douche.

-

*When I say "massive corporations" I'm talking specifically about DC and Marvel, who are owned by Warner Bros and Disney respectively. Image is not a massive corporation. Also, DC Comics and Marvel Comics are in tricky positions because they are actually small, weirdly ramshackle legacy publishers who in a lot of ways still operate like they did when Marvel had two (2) actual employees, Stan Lee and his secretary Flo Steinberg. They operate on tiny margins, everyone who works there is criminally underpaid, their HR is a fucking joke... So like, none of this excuses editors for repeatedly not supporting their creators during times of controversy (THE FUCKING MOCKINGBIRD COVER, Chelsea Cain is a TERF but that shit was ridiculous), but I think it's also important to remember that when we're talking about the people editing these books on a monthly basis, we're not talking about Bog Iger or David Zaslav - we're talking about someone living in NYC or Burbank working 60 hour weeks on a $45K salary so that Disney has enough IP to make Guardians of the Galaxy 9 or whatever. It's complicated.