#imagine all the moments and fun we'd see

[taran-chan]

my biggest what if is "what if the Eternals cast do a special edition for Three Meals A Day?"

like i'll never stop thinking about that ever

[bacchicly]

A few imperfect thoughts about writing fat characters respectfully

By me :

A short (5'2"), fat (approx 300 pounds), middle aged (turning 42 thank god), married to not a fat man, mother of a pre-teen, white, CIS, Anglo, Canadian, upper-middle class woman who writes fic (including smut) about a character who is fat by TV and Hollywood standards (Penelope Garcia)

Note: fat hate or debates about whether being fat is healthy or not will not be tolerated on this post. That is not what this post is about. This is about giving some insight into what writers may want to consider when trying to respectfully include more fat characters in their work and generally moving towards writing doing less harm to fat people.

This post started with me wanting to respond to someone honnestly asking "how do I write good descriptions of fat people" because they wanted to write more fat characters and write them authentically (and I assume in a way that would be respectful to fat people) which is an awesome! ...Or maybe it started a few months ago when a writer friend asked about whether a fat character in a fic borrowing a shirt or hoody from her fit boyfriend made sense. ...Or maybe it started way back when I started writing my first fan fic featuring Penelope Garcia partly in response to being irritated about how so many writers wrote her as a young woman and were often silent on her size or spent a lot of time on her insecurities about her body... anyhoo that's where I come from... doesn't make me an expert except maybe on my own unique experience with a fat body...rather more a fellow muddler / fat character writer enthusiast.

THE BASICS

This first part is a quick list of basics you'll read in other posts about writing characters in general - but we'd better get them out of the way because they apply:

Every character is unique and they way they act and think and feel tends to be a product of some mix of what they look like, how their body works or doesn't, how their brain works and doesn't, their "personality", what they were taught, their unique experiences, and the situation/society they are currently in. There are patterns (which is why we get tropes) but the fun thing is that small things can make big differences. So to write an authentic character, it helps to have a fairly clear sense of at least some of those elements and do some imagining about how all of that would funnel into the moment your writing.

The amount to which you describe character bodies and the style which you use to describe them tends to depend on genre, what the heck is going on in your story, the pov you're writing from, the reason you're writing etc. So their are no hard or fast rules. There may be norms for certain styles of fiction, but then it's up to you to decide if it's stronger for you to lean into those norms or to write "against" them at a particular moment.

In order to be more respectful and less harmful to fat people (especially if you see value in actively challenging the anti-fat status quo), you may have to change how you describe all bodies in your work, as well the attitudes both fat people and non fat people have about bodies in general.

Now that that's out of the way... let's get specifically to my thoughts on writing fat characters. I'm going to divide this part into tips for DESCRIBING FAT BODIES, FAT BODIES IN SPACE, and THINKING AND FEELING IN A FAT BODY.

TIPS FOR DESCRIBING FAT (OR OTHER) BODIES

I would say that both consistency and diversity across the work is important, by this I mean :

Consistently describe bodies in about the same amount of detail across your work for the same type of character regardless of body type. So protagonists should get about the same depth and breath of body descriptions as each other regardless of body type. Same goes for vilalns, supporting characters etc. Sometimes people are mute about the look and shape of "strait sized" character bodies (because what's to describe - they are just "normal") but then spend a bunch of time on "other sized" bodies or vice versa (in this case, the fat body is erased usually because of some form of internalised fat hate or phobia paired with "if you can't say anything nice" don't say anything at all.) If you're doing either of these things, I'm not saying it's wrong and has to be fixed- I'm just saying it's a flag that you may want to think about why you are writing differently about different body types and what your work is saying about what bodies have value and which don't.

Diversity Bodies in the real world come in a lot of different shapes and sizes (I know I know obvious woman strikes again) but if you are writing stories with fairly large casts and everyone has the same body type - there better be a good reason for it within the narrative. Truthfully there are cases where this does make sense to some degree... if you're writing about a group where there are physical requirements and standards for the folks in that world (ballet dancers, fire fighters, cops, soldiers, fbi agents) there may or may not be less diversity in body type and more homogeneous attitudes to body norms within the group - and certainly those who are outside of the norm may be commented on or feel like they are "other". But if you are in a more free setting - if you write without a diversity of body types - especially in settings where there is diversity - that is probably a clue that you're not thinking enough about what your various characters look like and may be "normalizing" one type of body over others. Similarly, if you are writing about a real time and place where there is evidence that there were fat bodies and you have none...that's another flag to ask yourself why.

The magical tools in your toolkit for describing fat and other bodies: Body neutrality and POV

Body neutrality is about not loving bodies and not hating bodies just accepting bodies as they are....or in this case describing them as they are. No poetic language. No judgement. Just this is what this character looks like. If you're struggling to do this, I suggest doing a body map for at least two characters with different body types - possibly one that you find easy to think of positively (in this case likely someone thin or at least fit) and one that you find more difficult to describe positively (in this case someone fat).

Describe them head to toe, naked and then clothed, in detail - acurately but not poetically. Start with their feet and then work up bit by bit. Pay attention to things like hair, scars, shape of joints, acne, tightness or looseness of skin, colour of skin, nails, fat, lack of fat, muscle tone, where do they hold their stress, what's in the bowels, how well they do or don't work, do they have their appendix, what they ate last, proportions (is their torso long or short compared to their legs), lungs - how much do they hold, are they healthy? - now describe their throat, shoulders, hands, hair, then end with face.

The only rule is no positive or negative connotations to anything. it's neither good nor bad that they have stretch marks - they just do and they have faded to silver. Now that you "see them' clearly - now look at them through the eyes of someone who loves them in a familial way...what do they see most? what words do they use? now through someone who is attracted to them sexually and love them and aren't ashamed...what do they see most? what words do they use? Now through the eyes of someone who hates them or wants to change them? or a child? or a dog? Now... how does your character feel about these descriptions? Now you have a variety of words you can draw on to describe the body and you also should have a fairly good idea of what is a more skewed view of the body and a more realistic view.

Also...it can be helpful to remember there are no consistently good or bad words to describe bodies - it depends on context and who is using the words. It's a lot like how sick can be used to describe something negatively or positively depending on the agreed upon meaning of the word by a group.

DESCRIBING BODIES IN SPACE/MOTION

Ok here's the thing - for every activity you can think of - there is a fat body that does it well and a fat body that can't do it easily or at all and there are a lot of reasons for both. Often it has to do with the fact that a lot of equipment is built for people who are 250lbs or less; and anything for bigger people tends to cost a premium. Also, if it's not an easy new skill to acquire with the body you've got...it may take longer and more bravery to keep pushing through to achieve mastery. People may try to discourage you from pursuing things. Sometimes out of prejudice, sometimes out of impatience, sometimes out of caring.

So deciding what your character's body can do easily and what it can't and why is more important than me giving you a list of words for how to describe fat movements.

My suggestion is: do your research. What sorts of body types have done the activity in the real world? What are the exceptions? What changes? So for example if a fat person is climbing a mountain - do they need more help? Different equipment? A different route?

Things to consider:

- equipment / things that can have weight limits: bunk beds, roller coasters, scooters, waterslides, camping chairs, elevators, trampolines, some bikes, life jackets (finding one that fit was a nightmare), exercise balls, airline seats (learning to ask for the seatbelt extender without second thought or shame was a lifesaver)

- not all fat people have pain, those who do will move taking into account the specifics of the pain - same as a lean person

- when I was pregnant I just got more cylindrical and did not get a classic belly. I moved well and easily all the way through my pregnancy, I had none of the back pain or ankle pain some people get. I stood for a lot of my labour. I gave birth on my hands and knees. Other fat people will have had different experiences of pregnancy...but that was mine.

- clothing can have a huge impact on what bounces or jiggles and what doesn't

- most (but not all) fat people I know are particularly sensitive to appearing sweaty or smelling bad

- how winded someone gets is not directly correlated to body size, neither is heart rate or breathing style; I have theatre training and grew up swimming - I breath very slowly and very deeply normally - so when I talk a slow deep breath...it is very slow and deep indeed. I have always been fat but can swim forever - I have always gotten winded and kind of dizzy running... Other fat people may be opposite.

- people do not "see fat" consistently. People regularly underestimate how fat I am (by 100+ pounds or many clothing sizes) because I am short, well spoken, proportioned in a way that is seen as fairly typical, and very mobile and very light on my feet. Someone who weighs less than me but is slower moving, dull witted, in a sour mood, is illl, or poorly dressed may be perceived as much heavier than than someone the same weight or heavier who is behaving/clothed differently (which can change how much fat hate someone experiences) and definately heavier than they are. Height also changes how people perceive weight.

- many stores still don't carry plus sized clothing, but eventually i sort of got used to it - although some days it makes me angry and other days sad

- chairs with arms or the occasional booth can be uncomfortable or just plain impossible to sit in, it's probably partly my ADHD but I often forget this until it happens; for taller and fatter people than me this can be a much more regular occurrence.

- once (if) a character figures out how to dress/move their body in a way that feels comfortable and meets general standards (or at least theirs) of respectability - they may not think that much about their body...or at least until something external draws attention to it

- I don't like feeling like I'm squishing people, so I will make myself small and still on buses or at the theatre, I also don't like sitting on laps or being lifted or carried.

- I often feel much taller than I actually am - except when I am standing right beside someone taller or am trying to reach something on a high shelf. The same principle applies - I feel larger next to smaller people and smaller next to larger ones.

- clothing and what I'm carrying also changes how I move (just like my lean counterparts)

- I don't lounge, my car seat is set almost straight but I sit further back than my brother in law who has a similar height and weight - he leans the seat back but pulls closer. I don't nap. My leaner husband both lounges and naps.

- some fat folks eat, walk, and move quickly - some slowly; figuring out which your character does, when they behave "out of character", and why these are their preferences will go a long way to creating an authentic feeling fat character

- acne is a thing and learning to accept ones rolls and tummy aprons (and thus take care of them properly) is a common challenge; although many do it naturally without thinking much of it. You lift your breasts and wash underneath - you lift you belly and wash underneath.

- fat bodies have the same reactions as everyone else: they tingle, burn, get numb, get goose bumps, like to be touched in certain places and in certain ways, feel the breeze, get hot, get cold, shiver, stretch, relax, get aroused, feel release, hold tension, feel capable and strong, feel weak...no matter who you are sitting in a chair that's too small for you will put pressure on your body and feel uncomfortable or safe ..you can explore what that is like. Sometimes it is a reassuring sensation. Sometimes it is uncomfortable. This is the same for fat bodies. It just may happen more frequently and depending on your character's context and experience the emotional reaction / thoughts that are generated may be a bit different.

THINKING AND FEELING IN A FAT BODY.

I think I touched on some of this in some of the earlier sections...but here I want to talk a bit about my experience of being fat and my thoughts about it - your fat characters may or may not feel similarly...but my hope is that you at least think about options as opposed to only writing one or two types of fat character.

I mainly "feel" fat in moments when it is pointed out to me or I am limited in what I can do because of it

I quite like my body, it is my home and I feel very connected to it's features. In my experience this is unusual for many people in North American society regardless of actual body shape or weight. Sometimes I feel guilty for not hating my body the way "I am supposed to" and wonder vaguely if my body would be different if I could hate it more (although as I get older I doubt it).

I do feel some pressure to be a cheerful "good" fat person as a way to stay safe and survive.

Nothing makes people more uncomfortable than me calling myself fat without judgement or asking for accomodation matter of factly. It took me a long time to feel comfortable doing so, but I do it now all the time and it makes my life better.

I felt some pressure to be the fun friend who people feel comfortable eating whatever they wanted with and I often felt like I was depended on to order dessert so they could too. This may have been all in my mind though.

Fat bellies can be very intimate places.

Not all fat people have dieted, but many have. I was lucky enough to never be forced into a diet. I did try keto once but it was a bit intense and nuts so I stopped. I learned a bunch doing it though.

Medical people not treating you appropriately when your fat is 100% a thing.

Internalised fat hate and fat phobia is a thing for many fat people and it pops up at weird moments.

I don 't.give a damn about being in a bathing suit. As long as it fits and my boobs and butt.aren't.falling out - I am happy and feel very attractive. In fact I am probably at my most comfortable in a bathing suit or naked. My body is mine in both those instances.

To reach the "healthy weight" for my height - I would have to lose half of my body mass. That is a lot of me to loose. Embarking on something like that would be totally different than loosing 5 or 10 pounds. Trying to navigate the various medical opinions about whether being fat is bad or not is exhausting.

For me, being fat and older is easier than being fat and younger. This could easily be the opposite for someone else.

Some fat people are into sex, some are not . Some folks are into sex with fat people and some are not. Some are nice about it. Some are not. Some want nice. Some do not.

Fat people are all around you living their best life or their worst life or somewhere in between. We know we are fat. We sometimes care and sometimes don't.

Ok that's it. I don't know if it will help anyone or if it's just a collection of rambles - but at the end of the day...fat people are just people. We are not going to go away. We are all sorts. We are the heroes of our own stories. We are people who are loved, depended on, hated, ignored, and/or spotlighted.

Some fat people think about being fat all the time. Some rarely. Just please don't erase us or other us.

Just by taking the step to interrogate your own biases and any feelings / assumptions you have about fatness/thinness is a huge step and will help limit the harm you could unintentionally do to fat people...actually to all people. Like all forms of hate and intelorance - Fat hate hurts EVERYONE. I would argue it privileges a few...but even that can be excruciating for the individuals who strive to retain that priviledge. We need to dismantle it.

[mcflymemes]

AS SAID BY DORIAN PAVUS  *  assorted dialogue from dragon age inquisition, updated version

i don't care what they think about me. i care what they think about us.

i like you. more than i should. more than might be wise.

discretion isn't your thing, is it?

all this dancing, politics, and murder makes me a bit homesick.

i suppose it really depends. how bad do you want to be?

living a lie... it festers inside of you, like poison.

i'm a man of many talents. what can i say?

the moment i saw you, i thought "there's a man who knows quality."

if you don't come through this, i swear i'll kill you.

i'm curious where this goes, you and i. we've had fun. perfectly reasonable to leave it here.

here is my proposal: we dispense with the chitchat and move on to something more primal.

i tease you too much, i know.

i'll have to find something we can do that doesn't involve teasing.

time to drink myself into a stupor. it's been that sort of day.

i see you enjoy playing with fire.

i like playing hard to get.

i'm not suggesting we venture into mutual domesticity.

if it's a trap, we escape and kill everyone. you're good at that.

talk to me. let me hear how mystified you are by my anger.

oh, i'm not arguing. just pointing out the ridiculously obvious.

if you choose to leave your door unlocked like a savage, i may or may not come.

now... what was i talking about? ah, yes. me.

i am apparently an incredible ass at accepting gifts.

i prefer the company of men.

would you prefer me bound and leashed?

sometimes the ones you love are also the ones who disappoint you the most.

you are the man i love, [name]. nothing will truly keep us apart.

the things you ask are just... very personal.

sometimes... love isn't enough.

there will always be an "us." we'll just be... farther apart, for a time.

i had no idea something like you was possible.

i'm imagining what you would look like in a dress.

i've never seen you smile so much!

i have no idea what you're talking about.

you stand there, flexing your muscles, huffing like some beast of burden with no thought save conquest.

you're shaping the world for good or ill. how could i aspire to do any less?

my footsies are freezing, thank you.

don't you ever bathe?

you're not suggesting we're similar.

watch where you're pointing that thing!

i'm not wearing a skirt.

it's significantly more impressive than hitting them with a sharp piece of metal.

i only meant to say i'm very sorry for your loss.

we can continue this dance forever, if you wish.

i'm saying we should be careful what we assume when it comes to such matters.

demons don't appreciate a man with good hair.

what i wouldn't give for some proper wine.

your outfit's entertaining. i'll give you that.

he had to leave early on account of assassination.

it's nice to know you have friends.

i'm here to do what is right.

come on, just answer the question.

they were asking me about you. personal things.

you said we'd be ass-deep in trouble. this is more like knee-high.

so what's your estimation? think we can win?

you can't call me pampered. nobody's peeled a grape for me in weeks.

you startled me. you're always so... nondescript.

you're a special and unique snowflake. live the dream.

i wanted to see you make flowers bloom with your song. just once.

you've done a lot less dancing naked in the moonlight than expected.

i've never seen anyone in this part of the world do it.

i realize there's more to you than that.

have i offended you?

for hating the outdoors, you sure seem to like bad weather.

i can't figure you out, [name].

you don't play their stupid game, they send an assassin or three your way.

i can't believe you're scared of magic.

i'm going to take that as a compliment.

still don't like me, [name]? after all this time?

[name], i owe you an apology.

i suspect people will use any excuse to hate us.

why be ashamed? power should be respected, not swept under the carpet.

maybe you're not a complete moron.

i just need to know you're capable of higher thought. for my own comfort.

it would take work. and soap. lots and lots of soap.

[luxsky]

Acotar characters; "you're staring" "you're beautiful"

Summary: ACOTAR characters + Twitter trend "you're staring" "you're beautiful"

Warnings: Moderately inaccurate political economy information, I think that's it (let me know if I missed anything)

Author's Note: Okay, I had a lot of fun writing this, hope you enjoy!

Rhysand

Ruling a court comes with various responsibilities, including dealing with accounting. Deciding how much money goes into each aspect, where there will be investments or cuts, handling the demand for buying and selling prices, export profits, and import expenses – these are the matters a High Lord has to deal with.

And Rhysand hates it; he dislikes mathematics, numbers, and especially thinking about all the headaches that economics brings him. That's why, when we got married and he made me his High Lady to reign by his side, I volunteered to handle that part – the part he disliked but I enjoyed.

So, while Rhysand deals with the political aspects that don't interest me, I handle the ones that don't interest him. We often work together, despite having separate offices. We also have a shared one because, even though we sometimes prefer working alone, most of the time, we choose to work together, not only to spend time together but also to enjoy each other's company and deal with any situation requiring the other's opinion.

"I think we should invest more in the export of artistic materials," I say to him, standing on the plush rug in the office, papers scattered on the floor from where I was previously sitting. I've analyzed these two specific papers in my hands for several minutes, pacing back and forth until reaching this conclusion.

"Well, we could do that, but the demand would increase, and we'd have to invest in structures for mass production of materials," he murmurs in response, not lifting his head from his stack of papers, filled mostly with reports from spies and armies.

"Urgh, okay, let me look into that," I crouch down, sitting on my heels as I shuffle through the scattered papers on the floor, searching for specific ones.

I make a satisfied noise when I find what I need, also grabbing a pen and starting to scribble some calculations and values on a blank sheet. Information here, consequences there, trying to find the best way to expand the Night Court's export market.

Rhys's pen stops, and I glimpse a movement from the corner of my eye, but I'm too focused on what I'm writing. I search for another paper, Mother, I should start organizing myself better. I lean to reach it, using the values there to compare with the ones I noted down, another paper comes to my hand, and my head is filled with numbers, values, and variations.

At some point, my concentration begins to wane because I feel eyes piercing my side. Perhaps my partner is trying to hint that my murmurs are bothering him, or maybe he wants to say something and is waiting for the right moment.

I put the papers back on the floor and look at him. Contrary to what I imagined, he's leaning back in his chair, a smirk on his lips, and his arms crossed over his chest. He doesn't look away or say anything, so I make a face and go back to shuffling my papers, still feeling the burn of his gaze on me.

"Rhysand, love, you're staring," I murmur, starting to stack the papers I had spread all over the floor, attempting a fake organization. I hear the sound of his chair scraping on the floor, and I look up to see him in front of me, crouching to be at the same height as me.

The smile on his face grew. "You're beautiful, dear, especially when dealing with all this math," he murmurs, and his hands cup my cheeks, his thumb caressing my face.

"Well, someone has to do the hard work, don't they?" I reply playfully, mirroring his smile. Rhysand leans in, kissing my lips, then my nose, forehead, and finally my cheeks. He continues planting various kisses all over my face, and I'm laughing by the end when he pulls away, looking at me with a loving gaze.

My laughter slowly fades, but the smile remains on my face. "You're my clever and beautiful little thing, dear," he murmurs, planting a final, very slow kiss on my forehead.

Cassian

Waking up early is one of the things highlighted on my list of things I hate and prefer not to do. My routine has always been organized with the goal of waking up as late as possible without disrupting my responsibilities.

And this routine worked perfectly until Cassian and I started living together, and he decided that my routine was somewhat unhealthy, insisting that I should start the day with him. The problem is, my beloved partner has a bizarre predisposition to wake up very easily before the sun even thinks about rising. And he doesn't rest until he wakes me up too.

"Come on, babe, we still need to have breakfast before we start training," his voice muffled as my face is buried under two pillows and protected by a thick blanket. "If you don't get up soon, we'll be late."

"Cassian, how could we be late if the sun hasn't even woken up yet?" Irritation in my voice is palpable, but perhaps the pillows somehow contained that annoyance in their feathers because the Illyrian has the audacity to laugh, a loud laughter that comes from the depths of his chest.

Before I could curse him with every name I know, my blanket is abruptly pulled off my body. As I cling to the pillows, trying to prevent him from taking them away, I feel the mattress shifting and his weight being placed on me. Peeking under the pillow, his forearms are bracing on either side of my body, preventing his entire weight from resting on me. His wings are spread, and a few strands of his hair escape from the bun.

"Are you going to get up, or do I have to take these pillows away too?" His voice is pure amusement, and I'm sure he's wearing that typical smirk of his.

With a very dissatisfied sigh, I push the pillows up, removing them from my face. As I suspected, his smile is evident on his lips, Cassian's face hovering above mine, very close.

I make a face and poke his cheek with my finger. "You really have no fear of death, do you?" Despite my words, the irritation of being woken up so early is set aside for a moment. Cassian's face so close to mine erases any resentment I could have for him being a morning person.

"Not when it's this beautiful," his hand moves, pushing strands of hair away from my face, his features softening. His eyes travel across the expanse of my face, and he's so focused on tracing the contours of my cheeks with his finger that he doesn't realize he's been doing it for a few minutes.

"You're staring, General," I murmur, a playful smile forming on my lips as I see his eyes darken with the title used. His finger doesn't stop caressing my cheek, but his face descends a bit, his lips hovering a few inches from mine.

He whispers to me, his breath mixing with mine, "With a sight like this? You can't blame me." He doesn't wait a second after finishing the sentence to press our lips together, a warm and desire-filled kiss.

My hands grab his hair, and the bun easily unravels as I grip the strands, his mouth dancing over mine as our tongues connect and dance. When he breaks the kiss, it's only because we need to breathe, but he plants soft and quick kisses while stabilizing his breath, then descending and leaving a trail of wet kisses on my neck.

I bring his face up, looking into his eyes, the previous amusement replaced by lust. My arched eyebrow and mischievous smile draw his eyes back to my lips. Before he can kiss me again, I speak.

"I thought we were going to be late for training if I didn't get up soon." The amusement in my voice prompts an eye roll from him in response.

"Screw the training; my only commitment now is with your body." And his lips resume leaving trails of kisses, descending from my neck to my collarbone. Laughter escapes me as his wife reverberates throughout the room, Cassian focusing on kissing me everywhere.

Azriel

Azriel's lips passionately met mine, his hands gripping my waist, pulling me closer. I'm a complete mess; one of my hands supports me on his arm, while the other grabs his hair. My feet barely touch the ground, striving for height to reach his lips. His warm mouth against mine, our tongues entwining, he pulls back just enough to capture my lower lip between his teeth, causing delightful shivers.

His hand moves up to my neck; his thumb rests on my chin, tilting my face upward. His lips trail down, planting a kiss on my jaw and then on my neck. He lightly bites and kisses the spot that never fails to elicit sighs from me.

As he pulls away, I open my eyes, meeting his brown, sparkling eyes admiring my face. His hands cup my cheeks, a small smile playing on his lips. My lip throbs, feeling swollen, yet Azriel gazes at me with such devotion that all I can do is smile back, my heart racing as if it's the first time he's touched me this way. It isn't, but my body seems to forget that in the moment.

Azriel continues watching me, but my attention is momentarily diverted as a bright flash catches my peripheral vision. I turn my head, his hand moving from my cheek to hold mine as I observe stars falling from the sky. They start timidly, but as seconds pass, more appear, the sky glowing with the trails they leave behind.

I love this. I love the starfall, sharing the moment with my partner, and more than that, I love how he still hasn't taken his eyes off me, even though the brilliant sky is far more beautiful and interesting to watch.

"You're staring," I murmur, my eyes still fixed on the sky. Azriel wraps his arms around my shoulders from behind, his wings blocking the wind around us. He places a gentle kiss on the top of my head, then lowers his lips to my ear, whispering in response.

"You're so beautiful; it's hard not to look, my love." His voice in that tone is incredibly sensual, and the shadows dancing on my arms as I hold onto his bring a delightful sensation.

I don't respond with words; instead, I send all the love and warmth I can through the golden bond that connects us. My eyes remain fixed on the stars detaching from the sky above us, but I'm sure he's still trying to study any detail he hasn't memorized yet, even with our closeness.

Feyre

The sun warming my skin is a very welcome sensation, the fabric of the sheet that Feyre and I spread on the grass earlier is a bit disheveled, but I don't mind.

The comfortable silence we're in is filled with occasional sounds of pages turning in my book and the strokes Freyre makes on her canvas. I lie on my stomach, reading the new suspense novel my lovely partner gifted me a few days ago. The story is at a particularly tense point, a crucial revelation is imminent, and I can feel it.

This may have been one of the best ideas Feyre had in the last month. She was recently inspired to paint landscapes and planned an outdoor day. With all the shared love, she asked if I wanted to accompany her. We didn't go far, choosing a spot near the Sidra River. We arrived in the early afternoon and planned to stay until the sun gave way to the moon.

Despite wanting to continue reading, Feyre's gaze distracts me. Giving up on reading, I sit up, looking at her. From my angle, I can't see what she's painting very well, but the paints are still scattered around us, and she's still holding the brush, so I deduce she hasn't finished the painting.

"Baby, you're staring," I stretch, trying to see what she's painting, curious to see her progress, but she quickly pulls the canvas away from my view. The warmth that fills her cheeks as she looks away from me gives me a hint as to why she was staring at me.

A mischievous smile forms on my lips. I lean forward, innocently running the tip of my nail on her bare leg. "You know, when you said you wanted to paint the landscape, I didn't think you were referring to me."

She chuckles at the teasing, rolling her eyes as she mumbles something. She places the canvas in one of the paints, away from my sight, and turns to me, her hand reaching to grab mine. Her finger is smeared with paint, and as she runs it over me, I get stained with the hue she was using, but I don't complain.

"You're too beautiful; it's hard to capture you in a painting," she confesses to me. Her brown eyes meet mine, her freckles reflecting the sunlight and seeming to glow. It's ironic for Feyre to say this about me; the beauty she carries is otherworldly, yet I am the one challenging to be captured in paints.

"Pfft, you can turn anything into the most beautiful art, Fey," I roll my eyes at her, her hand drawing a pattern on mine gently. "But I can be your muse whenever you want. I don't mind how long it takes for you to finish your painting."

She smiles at my response. Her other hand, which previously held the brush, holds my face tenderly, and she stares at me for a few more seconds in silence, studying and analyzing my face, imprinting the details with her eyes and fingertips. When she finishes, she goes back to grab the canvas and the brush, speaking excitedly.

"Alright then, get into a comfortable position. This will probably take some time," she starts mixing colors and dipping them into the brush as I lean back, sitting in a more comfortable way.

When she resumes painting, I'm still laughing, and as the sun sets, giving way to the moon, she remains focused, alternating her gaze between me and the canvas, until she completes her masterpiece.

Nesta

In this, Nesta and I have developed a small tradition in our relationship. At least once a month, we go to any bookstore we choose at the moment, even if we don't plan to buy any books or have only bought a few days ago. We simply go, wander around the store, and talk – sometimes we browse through books on the shelves, other times we just observe. It doesn't matter much what we do in the bookstore; we just go.

That's why the day after I return from a political trip to the Day Court, Nesta wakes me up early. We have breakfast together, then leisurely stroll to a new bookstore that opened while I was away. The place is beautiful and cozy, the smell of books is relaxing, and Nesta's hand in mine brings a sense of comfort. We are almost at the back of the bookstore, in the erotic books section, when one of the covers catches my attention.

"Oh! Helion had this book in his library; I read it while I was there." I release Nesta's hand to pick up the book. The cover is as discreet as the title; at first glance, nothing would indicate the content inside this book, except for the category it belongs to.

I flip through the book, reading some random passages and recalling the story. A laugh escapes my throat as I turn to Nesta and show her one of the excerpts. "Look at this."

Nesta's eyebrow arches as she reads the passage I showed her. A quieter laugh, compared to mine, also escapes her, and her eyes meet mine as she says, "Well, it's a... uninteresting scene."

I nod, agreeing with her, and turn back to the shelf, running my finger over the covers. "I really didn't expect that while reading, although it makes sense when compared to the rest of the story." Then I briefly start recounting the story – how the main couple faced various challenges when together but always had a significant tension between them.

I pick up another book, turning the cover and reading its summary. It seems interesting. "Look, Nes, it's from that new author you were interested in. The story sounds good; it's about..."

When I turn to show her the book I found, she still has the previous book in her hands, open to the page I handed her. Her eyes stare at me with an affectionate gaze, causing my cheeks to flush with the attention she gives me, and I release a nervous giggle.

"Darling, you're staring at me," I murmur, shyness covering my voice. This seems to snap Nesta out of the trance she was in because she blinks, very slowly, and a mischievous smile forms on her lips – a smile that sends shivers down my spine.

She closes the book in her hands, takes the one in mine, and puts both back on the shelf, pulling me close to her. "You look too beautiful when you talk about the books you like," she murmurs, her lips nearing mine.

Her eyes burn with mischief, her hand moves up to my nape, pulling me closer, our lips inches apart. "Tell me more about the book, about all the books you read while you were away," her lips meet mine in the next moment.

Morrigan

Morrigan's dissatisfied murmurs filled my ears as I watched her argue with herself through the vanity mirror about the three dresses scattered on the bed. Smiling at her indecision, I resumed applying makeup, finishing the products on my eyes and cheeks, adding color and life to my face.

Digging into Mor's vanity drawer, I searched for a lipstick to complement the outfit I chose for the night. Once I found the perfect shade, I glanced back at the mirror.

Swiftly applying the lipstick, I examined my face—it was perfect and would be even more so when I put on the golden earring that matched Mor's. With that thought, I sought her reflection and found her staring at me through the mirror with a puzzled look, still undecided on her choice. Turning to face her, still seated on the stool, I raised my eyebrows at her pout, and she scrutinized me with puppy-dog eyes.

"You're staring, babe," I stood up, approaching the bed with the intention of helping her choose her outfit but was interrupted when she pulled me close, pressing her body against mine. Her eyes descended to the lips I had just painted, now adorned with a mischievous smile.

"You're beautiful; I can't help but look," I playfully rolled my eyes, accustomed to her flattery.

She brushed a strand of my hair back, clearing it from my face, and leaned forward, sealing our lips. I got lost in the kiss, engulfed in the passion she radiated. Our mouths moved in harmony; my hand held her face, preventing her from pulling away. We only broke the kiss because we needed air. As her lips moved far enough from mine for coherent thought, I noticed the color on hers.

She furrowed her brows, confused by my exasperated sigh. When I quickly distanced myself and walked back to the vanity, she became even more perplexed. Until I looked at myself in the mirror and realized the chaos my face had become—lipstick smeared everywhere, ruining the makeup I had done.

I groaned and turned to her, attempting to hide a laugh behind her fist, "Morrigan," I whined, "now I have to clean up and redo it."

She approached again, her hands running up my arms and stopping at the base of my neck, her fingertips playing with my hair. "Well, at least I'll have more time to decide what to wear," she chuckled loudly as I huffed indignantly.

[cass-rambles]

honestly I'm probably overthinking this, but I think it's an interesting detail that in the Unmortricken episode during the whole "trap Saw box" shit we've got this shot of Evil Morty sort of disappointed/dismayed RIGHT as we've got our Morty Prime telling Rick to "take the shot".

Like he's got the sort of annoyed, sort of cast down look for a few seconds (because right after we have the "We both hate Rick Prime more than each other either way" thing) and I'm reading way too much into this, but it makes me think that he does give a shit about Morty, despite his Very Constant Denial.

I mean taking all aspects of the episode under consideration, we've got several scenes where it is heavily underlined that Evil Morty does not care about Rick C-137 nor Morty, even being blunt about it and telling everyone to fuck off or it won't end well.

It's not that I don't believe he wants to be left alone, he very pointedly does, Buttttt I think E!Morty does hold some form of "softness" or positive emotions towards Morty.

Looking at their characteristics in the episode, I know most of the other fans have noticed that our "main" Morty's character seemed to have regressed for the ep to more of s1/s2 behavior, making him look more "whiney" and weak in comparison to Evil Morty. I think it's to point out that if we Had our Morty's normal behavior from even previous episodes of season 7, we'd be able to see how SIMILAR both of them are now.

(I mean c'mon, I get you rushed his character a little, but to fuck it right back to season 1/2 during a significant mid season finale? You've gotta have a bigger reason for it.)

In either case, it's likely that we have an episode of Morty sub-consciously trying his hardest not to act like Evil Morty (That's why we got the development regression for an episode) as Evil Morty seemingly just acts like himself, merely underlining that he does not care.

"This didn't make us friends" okay??? Then why even wait for Prime Morty at all to join Rick in his beat down w Rick Prime? Don't get me wrong, Evil Morty won't suddenly develop attachment to him out of thin air, but imo he sees all the potential Prime Morty has yet is currently wasting it.

It's sort of a little nod to how insane it is of a parallel that Ricks can't fucking stand one another or themselves, immediately trying to one up the other or kill, as to how Mortys can co-exist peacefully and work together without any unhealthy character implements. (Fun fact: If you're into mortycest in one of the comics two Mortys sleep w each other. So we've got established selfcest in canon too if you're imagining and rolling Evil Morty's and Morty's relationship into a more romantic ball court.)

Another little detail I noticed, we have a moment where Rick shoots at Evil Morty again for funsies and I gotta say, the expressions are feeding into my overanalyzing brain . LIKE??? AM I SEEING THIS WRONG?

These two have GOT to have something cooking between them PLEASE.

[soopersara]

Recently, I've pondering Book 2 and 3 of ATLA, and I reached a conclusion that surprised me a little.

Specifically, this: Zuko would have been very unlikely to join Team Avatar if not for Katara.

Now I'm not saying that Zuko had a secret crush on her or anything. As much fun as that concept can be to explore in fics, I don't love the idea of Zuko's redemption being motivated by romantic interest, and his canonical arc is clearly driven by his own evolving understanding of the world and the morals that come along with that understanding. Still, if you cut out his interactions with Katara, especially in the crystal catacombs, I just don't see him ever taking that last step to turn against his father and join Team Avatar. He would have been discontented in the Fire Nation, sure. Spending a few years away from home with a guardian who genuinely cared about and protected him could easily push him that far all on its own. He might have become disillusioned enough with the Fire Nation and its role in the war to run away too. Zuko spent enough time in the Earth Kingdom, learning about the people and their suffering, to have doubts and regrets when he finally learned about Ozai's true plans.

But without Katara reaching out to him in the crystal catacombs (or more accurately, Zuko reaching out to sympathize with Katara, and Katara reciprocating), I'm not convinced that he would have considered his future or his place in the world enough to go farther than that. To leave and to join the enemy. And even if he had considered joining Team Avatar, I'm not convinced that he would have thought he had a chance of being accepted if he hadn't shared that moment in the crystal catacombs with Katara.

I mean... sure, Aang sort of reached out to Zuko way back in Book 1. But even leaving aside the fact that that was one moment several months before Zuko finally left home (and an offer that brief and that old is probably shaky at best), it wasn't an offer of friendship in quite the same way that Katara's kindness was. What Aang said to Zuko was:

You know what the worst part of being born over a hundred years ago is? I miss all the friends I used to hang out with. Before the war started, I used to always visit my friend Kuzon. The two of us, we'd get in and out of so much trouble together. He was one of the best friends I ever had, and he was from the Fire Nation, just like you. If we knew each other back then, do you think we could have been friends, too?

"If we knew each other back then, do you think we could have been friends, too?"

It's a hypothetical question. Aang is thinking back to a time before the war, to the people he knew in the Fire Nation an entire lifetime ago, and trying to imagine where Zuko might have fit into that time and those relationships. He doesn't reach out a hand to directly offer Zuko a friendship in the present (and frankly, it wouldn't make sense in the moment if he had), nor does he ever make another offer of friendship until after Zuko actually joins the team. Every encounter between Zuko and Aang from The Blue Spirit on through The Western Air Temple is either a) a fight, b) Aang sparing Zuko's life while Zuko is unconscious (and therefore unable to see the kind gesture and interpret it as an offer of friendship), c) unwilling cooperation against a common enemy, or d) ... That Face that Aang makes at Zuko after interrupting him and Katara in the crystal catacombs.

Maybe it's just me, but... none of those interactions exactly set up a strong foundation for a future friendship, or even a future alliance. If Aang's old "offer of friendship" was all Zuko had to go on, then joining Team Avatar would have been a long shot. An extremely long shot.

By contrast, Katara bares her heart to Zuko and, at least in the moment, makes it clear that her kindness is deliberate. They've fought against one another time after time, they've been unwilling allies in the fight against Azula, and they've had some... generally antagonistic face-to-face interactions as well. But even after all of that, Katara offers to heal Iroh with very little hesitation in The Chase, then offers compassion to Zuko himself in The Crossroads of Destiny. She openly shows Zuko that there's a chance for him, and even when he turns against her in CoD, her angry dialogue still reflects the fact that she thinks he can be better. That she wants and expects him to be better. "I thought you had changed" isn't just anger, it's also a sign that her trust and kindness in the catacombs was genuine.

It's a sign to Zuko that if he can become the person who Katara thought he was for those few minutes in the caverns beneath Ba Sing Se, he might be able to prove himself worthy of that same trust and kindness again. And once Zuko has finally had enough of living under his father's thumb, of sitting silent on the sidelines while the world burns around him, once he leaves his old life behind for good, it's the beacon that draws him onward into a new life and a new purpose.

I can't claim to know exactly what would have happened if Zuko had never shared those pre-redemption moments with Katara. I'm just one random fic writer in a quiet corner of the internet, but I don't think it's unreasonable to say that her kindness to him in Book 2 made his decision easier. Without Katara, Zuko still might have left the Fire Nation behind. He still might have told off his father and tried to rescue Iroh from prison during the eclipse, but that doesn't necessarily mean that his next step would have been to run off to the Western Air Temple and offer himself up as a teacher.

Without Katara, Zuko might have fallen into the cracks in between the Fire Nation and Team Avatar. He might have become a different type of dissenter - maybe a less obtrusive one, like Piandao or Jeong Jeong, or he might have fallen back into his vigilante persona. He might have gone searching for his mother while the war kept raging on the other side of the ocean, or he might have tried to settle down into the type of quiet life that Iroh wanted for them both in Ba Sing Se. But regardless of what choice Zuko would have made, I think it would have been much harder for him to choose Team Avatar if he hadn't had Katara's voice in the back of his mind, telling him that he could be better, and that if he was, he might have a place with her and her friends.

Ship them or not, Zuko and Katara had an incredible bond that shaped a lot of the show. And while I'm not exactly on Team 'Zuko had a secret crush on Katara from the beginning' because of what it can do to his character arc if it's not handled carefully, I think I just found myself squarely on Team 'Zuko changed because it was right, and Katara opened the door for everything that came after.'

[chronicmisfit]

Can I get some fish n chips almond latte with extra whipped cream? Thxxx

(extra love for victor)

This was a fun one to write! I decided to go with the First Words soulmate AU for this one!

I found their actual first words btw, and Kate has the same first words for seven of the boys.

Order: Romantic Villain Boys with Soulmate AU

Soulmate AU: First words - The first words they will hear their soulmate say are written on their wrist like a tattoo

Additional Request: Extra love for Victor (I made his headcanons a tad longer)

The words on William’s wrist: “Pardon me, that's mine!”

The words on Kate’s wrist: “There you are, milady.”

William finds the words his soulmate will say to him amusing

The funny part is how brazen he assumes she will act when they meet

Kate is confused by the words on her wrist

And a bit concerned

Milady is something that people higher up in the world use to refer to women

IS HER SOULMATE A NOBLE?

William is speechless for a moment when he first meets Kate

But he was right that he is amused.

Kate’s eyes widen when William speaks his first words, knowing that he must have known right before he said them- since she spoke first…

The words on Liam’s wrist: “Oh my-!”

The words on Kate’s wrist: “Friend of yours, Will? Does she know about us?”

Liam assumes that she must be a fan of the plays he’s been in.

Any other things it could be…

…He worries about those possibilities when he can’t sleep at night

What if she catches him in the middle of a mission?

What if she’s scared of him?

Kate doesn’t know anyone named Will

But even more concerning is the second question

What does ‘know about us’ mean?

Liam’s worry is confirmed and Kate’s question is answered when they meet

However, Liam is too curious about her to dwell on his concerns

And Kate is too shocked by what she saw to dwell on hers

The words on Harrison’s wrist: “Oh my-!”

The words on Kate’s wrist: "Sorry to spook you, but this is just a rehersal for a play."

Harrison assumes the worst immediately

That his soulmate witnessed him do something wrong

His tragic fate immediately comes to mind whenever he thinks about it

Kate is excited

She believes her soulmate to be an actor

He is proven right, and she is proven wrong

She stutters as she tells her own soulmate that he is lying

Harrison thinks that she probably hates liars since she doesn’t live in the same world as Crown

The words on Elbert’s wrist: “Oh my-!”

The words on Kate’s wrist: “It's fine. Are you all right?”

Elbert worries that the reason she said that could be him accidentally using his power on her

That would be like a nightmare for him

Kate is giddy that her soulmate would be so concerned for her even when he doesn’t know her

When they do meet, Elbert almost feels like it’s worse than he imagined

Only almost though, forcing her to see her worse sad memory would surely be worse

Kate is too busy being shocked to be happy about meeting her soulmate

However after the fact, when she learns that he is a noble she is very nervous knowing that he is her soulmate.

The words on Alfons’ wrist: “Oh my-!”

The words on Kate’s wrist: “Well, well...! I wasn't expecting a guest.”

Alfons and Kate both don’t know how to feel about their soulmate’s first words.

To Al, those words could be either excitement or shock.

He would prefer it if it were the first one

But he wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if it were the second.

Kate just has no idea what to make of the first words.

Even worse, after she hears those words she can’t even be sure which face the words go with.

It’s not until after she meets Victor that Alfons speaks again

But Kate recognized the voice immediately.

When Alfons realized Kate was his soulmate, he wished he could use his power on her to make her believe Harrison’s lie

A girl like her shouldn’t be swept into his fate.

The words on Roger’s wrist: “Oh my-!”

The words on Kate’s wrist: “Haha, well, I didn't think we'd have a trespasser! She's a naughty lil thing, isn't she?”

Roger is excited to find out what kind of girl would be his soulmate.

Kate has so many questions

Why did she trespass?

Why did he call her that?

Should she be concerned about who her soulmate is?

When Roger realizes she’s his soulmate, he could be described as elated.

He thinks she’s a cute little lady.

Kate however, still is concerned

He has a gun

He is extremely handsome

But he’s also extremely unsettling

The words on Jude’s wrist: “Oh my-!”

The words on Kate’s wrist: “Tch... That's why i toldja to lock the damn door!”

Jude doesn’t really care for romance stories

So he never really thought about his soulmate

Ellis did make Jude show him the words though.

Kate is nervous

What will she walk in on?

On days that she got antsy she would walk around the part of London

Specifically where an accent similar to the one in her words can be heard

And she will test doors to see if they’re locked

When they meet, Jude doesn’t react

Ellis looks towards Jude when he recognizes the words though.

When Jude mentions the door, Kate’s eyes widen.

So this is the kind of man she’s soulmates with?

The words on Ellis’ wrist: “Oh my-!”

The words on Kate’s wrist: “Why don't you come over here? there's no escape at this point anyway.”

Ellis is extremely excited to meet his soulmate

He has to make them happy

Sometimes he’ll accidentally bump into strangers, but he’ll apologize profusely

Especially since they didn’t say the words he’s waiting for

Kate is concerned by the words she reads

No escape

No escape from what though?

The answer is obvious once she hears them

Ellis is sad about how they met

Because she must have been scared.

The words on Victor’s wrist: “Yes, Master Victor. That's right.”

The words on Kate’s wrist: “Welcome back, my beloved Cursed Boys!”

Victor is not surprised at the formality of his soulmate’s first words

He is the queen’s aide

Unfortunately, he knows he’ll have to push her away

He has to keep her from being engulfed by the darkness and death around him

Kate is happy that he seems polite, but also worried.

What cursed boys?

That question is halfway answered when she hears the words said.

The cursed boys must be the 8 men she met at the crime scene mere moments ago.

Unlike the other 8, Kate is not the one who speaks around her soulmate first.

So, she gulps then stutters as she says her first words

Upon realizing she is his soulmate, he is both enamored and crushed

Enamored by how beautiful his soulmate is

But crushed that he needs to push her away for her own protection

Maybe it’s selfishness

But he can’t bring himself to turn her away from him just yet

So he makes her stay for a month.

Masterlist

[otteropera]

Home (Jon Snow x Reader)

A/N - Only took me, what, like three months to finish this request? I kept coming back to it and re-reading and changing it but I finally FINISHED IT! The wonderful @pastanest requested this one so shoutout to her, if you are thirsting for Jon Snow (like me) GO CHECK HER OUT!!! She is an amazing writer and a wonderful person <3

Warnings - blood, RAMSAY BOLTON, violence... its game of thrones tbh

Word count - 5.7k

The fire had gone out weeks ago. No one who came in bothered to replenish it with wood, and I wasn't exactly in a position to do it, with my wrists chained to the floor. I'd had a lot of time to think about things. About my past, about Sansa, about what led me to this moment, about Jon.

I found that my mind went wandering to him quite often.

Nineteen years ago, after Robert’s Rebellion ended, many reunions were had. Fathers saw their children and wives saw their husbands. It was a sigh of relief for people who had their loved ones taken away, forced to fight the Mad King. My mother waited with baited breath, staring at the horizon everyday for months, praying to all the Gods that she would see him in the distance, finally returning to her. She held her budding belly with tears in her eyes, refusing to believe that she was living in a world without him.

She later passed away on the birthing bed.

If it weren’t for the wet-nurse that was able to arrive so quickly from a town over, I wouldn’t have made it. When word got to Eddard Stark that I was in fact alive, and without parents, he was quick to get me over to Winterfell. I don’t remember my life before the Starks, and I don’t have much of a need to. I befriended the Stark children and was welcomed into their home with open arms. My father gave his life in service to the realm, they felt it was the least they could do. From what Lord Eddard remembered of my parents, they were utterly and wholly in love.

Sansa and I clicked when we were younger. Although I was a few years older than her, we got along very well. We would brush each other's hair and put it in pretty braids, we'd giggle when the stable boys would flirt with us, and she would tease me for my crush on Jon. Once the two of us were of age, I was assigned as her lady-in-waiting. It was sort of like being Sansa's ‘official friend’, which wasn't hard. It really didn't change much; we got to spend all of our time together.

Sometimes, if I closed my eyes hard enough, I could go back to those days. When we were younger, we'd help sneak Arya out of her room and run down the corridors to the kitchen to steal any lemon cakes that were left from dinner. I was almost certain that Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn knew what we were doing, but let us have our fun when they heard the laughter from the kitchens late at night.

"What are you doing?"

Jon stood in the doorway, his mouth slightly agape, eyebrows furrowed. Arya, Sansa, and I stilled, crumb-covered mouths tightly shut. I wasn't sure if it was our lack of sleep or the definite sugar high, but Arya burst out laughing, spewing bits of cake over the table, while Sansa and I did our best not to copy her, covering our mouths and stifling our laughs. With my quick and shy glances to Jon, I could tell he was having a hard time keeping a smile off his face.

"I can't believe you guys," he said, shaking his head. "You're worse than Bran."

Bran was notorious for stealing sweets. I hoped that wherever Sansa had escaped to, she got to eat as many lemon cakes as she pleased. It had been months since she got away from Ramsay’s hold, and sometimes I wondered if she would leave me here for good.

It was an awful thing to think, I knew that, but Ramsey knew how to get under my skin (literally) and drill some awful things into my mind. I couldn’t begin to imagine what he’d done to Sansa. Thankfully, he could go days without bothering to torment me, which usually meant that I didn’t get to eat either, but I was more than willing to trade that for some time away from Ramsay. The room that I’d been confined to was small and drafty, from what I could guess used to be an extra storage room for food, with the old flour bags and rotting potatoes. They were my bed most nights. Though I have to admit, it’s a step up from the cell outside with the dogs. Ramsay had been keeping me there until Sansa found out and refused to eat until I was moved to an actual room. She even got me a makeshift fireplace in an old cooking pot.

I was convinced that the only reason I was able to stay sane was by staying in my mind. Thinking of ten years ago, when I was growing up here with Sansa, Arya… Jon. When I was safe and happy and took everything for granted.

There was some irony in it. The place that I grew up in, that allowed me to build the friendships and relationships that I had, that allowed me to be free of the pain of growing up without a family, was then the same place that kept me from being with mine.

The door creaked open, and in walked the man who had chained me here. Ramsay knelt in front of me, placing down a bowl of stew. One glance at it and I was salivating. Meat, potatoes, carrots, celery, all steaming gloriously in the bowl in front of me. That was… odd. I’m not one to turn down a hot meal, especially when I hadn’t eaten in days, but I knew the games Ramsay played. I knew that there was… something else to it. Ramsay sat on the floor across from me, with that sick little half-smirk.

“It’s rude to refuse food from the Warden of the North,” he commented, clasping his hands together in front of him.

“He didn’t put this in front of me. You did.”

Ramsay let out a dry laugh, not letting his smile fall. I only managed to get that look off his face once, and I paid for it. However, I still found myself accepting the challenge of knocking Ramsay’s ego down a peg.

“I see you’re in a fine mood today, that’s good,” he paused, “I have good news.”

That was saying something, coming from him.

“The bastard is coming.”

I froze at that. It took a moment to realize that that’s what he wanted, he always wanted to get a rise out of me. I refused to give him any satisfaction. I had to stop myself from meeting his penetrating stare.

“I’d spoken to him earlier, along with my dear wife,” his emphasis on the word ‘wife’ made me want to vomit. “They’ll be coming to Winterfell tomorrow to try to take it from me, with lesser men. And when they lose," Ramsay's voice got quieter as he leaned in towards me, "Sansa will watch me flay you living. She will watch me feed you to those dogs, she will watch as you die in that cell, screaming and bleeding. I will make her understand what happens to those she cares about when she betrays me." His pitch black eyes stared into mine as I tried to control my breathing. I didn’t think I'd ever truly, wholly, and honestly wished for someone to die a painful death as much as I wished it for that man. I swallowed harshly.

"Winterfell has never been yours. It never will be," I whispered. He leaned back, loosening up, but his eyes looked empty as ever. And he smiled some more.

“Jon sounded awfully concerned for you.” No. No. “I’m assuming Sansa had told him about your… conditions here.” That was a nice way to put being held prisoner in your own home. “I wasn’t aware that you two had such a history.” I shouldn’t have even looked at him. All the emotion that I was trying to hide, he saw right through. The more I spoke, or acted, or looked, the more leverage he had against me. It was an impossible struggle.

“Don’t worry,” he leaned closer, his breath hot and putrid. There was nowhere for me to go. “I won’t kill him before I let him see you,” he snatched my face in his free hand, his grasp firm and unwavering. I felt the cool tip of a knife rest on my cheekbone. “He will see just how you’ve been holding up.” He dragged the knife agonizingly slow down the bare flesh, I was sure I would pass out. “And he will see all that I’ve done to you.”

I didn’t eat the stew until after he left. The chains rattled as I reached forward for it, slugging from the bowl like an animal. I didn’t like eating while he watched. Something about it felt… humiliating. Like he was watching one of his dogs rip someone apart after not feeding them for weeks, like he was proud of the way he had starved me. I was sure he was. I was sure he would love to see me eating like it was the last meal I’d ever indulge in.

***

Jon was outside the banquet hall, in the courtyard, slashing away at a dummy with his sword. The mead sloshed in their cups as I stepped toward him.

"I think you won," I commented once I got within earshot. He turned around, his face lighting up at my presence just enough for me to notice, causing my face to flush. "I smuggled you out a drink," I outstretched one of the cups, which he took while catching his breath.

"What am I missing in there?" Jon questioned, referring to the dinner party with the King and Queen, taking a slug from the cup.

"Well... the King is drunk, Sansa's gushing over Prince Joffrey, and Arya just got in trouble for catapulting food at her," I explained. Jon chuckled at the thought of it. "So nothing new, as far as our dinners go."

Jon went quiet, surprisingly. He'd tend to have a lot to say when I was around. His gaze was fixed on the cup, lost in thought.

"Is everything alright?" I asked. I've known him to be a bit upset about being forbidden from dinners, but he was usually better at hiding it.

"There's something I've been thinking about, that I want to tell you," he breathed out. "I'm taking the black. I leave the same day as the royal party with my Uncle Benjen." His eyes were on mine. I felt... conflicted. I was happy for him, I knew he'd do well up at Castle Black, given his bravery and swordsmanship. I knew that we all couldn't stay in Winterfell forever, that we were growing up. However, something in me hoped that wherever Jon would go, I could follow. The bastard and the Lady's maid.

"I'm happy for you." Truly, I was. I knew he'd always been worried about making something of himself. He would never have lands or a title, so it made sense he would seek to prove his worth through service to the realm.

"Thank you." There was a hint of sadness in his voice.

"From what I've heard I'll be going to King's Landing with Sansa. Serving as her handmaiden."

Jon hummed in response. He seemed to have the same reaction to my news as I had to his.

"I'll write to you," he commented. I didn't even bother trying to hide my growing smile.

"I'll write back."

***

The days were cold, but the nights felt colder. Ramsay sent in a Maester to treat the wound that he inflicted. I was no use to him dead, of course. It was sore to the touch. Through the small, barred window in the room, I could see that the sun was setting, as it did every night, and as it will continue to do well after I die in that place.

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the throbbing pain in my face. It felt like it was on fire, which meant that my body was probably fighting an infection from the cut. Looking out my small window, the sunlight couldn't penetrate the clouds, leaving the sky a gloomy, milky gray.

Sometimes, when I was just waking up, I would forget where I was. I could open my eyes and be in King's Landing, with Sansa and Arya and Ned Stark. Or I could be waking up here in Winterfell, but in my own bed, in my own room, right across from Sansa's, how it used to be. Those moments were my favorite. When my mind was still fogged with sleep and I could swear that just yesterday I was reading in the Godswood with Jon. Sometimes I would see how long I could go before opening my eyes. It felt like when I did so, it cemented the pained reality of where I was, and who I was without. It's silly, really. No matter how hard I tried, I would still wake up surrounded by these four walls, in the same house that was no longer a home.

I must have dozed off again at some point, because the next time I rose I was awakened by the sounds of chaos outside. The window in my cell was far too high for me to see ground level out of, even if I wasn't chained. I had to use my hearing to discern what was happening.

The scrambling and shouting of soldiers, and a loud, rhythmic bang... bang... bang. It was coming from the front gate. Was... was it a siege? There was a shrieking of a creature that I couldn't name, and then more shouting and yelling, the clanging of swords. Then it stopped. I held my breath. It felt like ages until I could hear anything else.

Footsteps raced towards the door. I could hear muttering on the other side. There were two very different ideas of who could be coming to me at such a rush, one of which made bile rise in my throat.

"This has to be it, I know that he kept it locked and I remember it being by the kitchens," the sweet, feminine voice rushed out. I'd recognize her voice anywhere.

"Sansa?" My voice was hardly a whisper as I croaked out the name. I jumped when the door started shaking as though it was being kicked in. The chains clicked as I scrambled to stand up. Had they won? Was Winterfell back to the Starks? Was Jon here?

The door burst open and I locked eyes with the one who had been infiltrating my thoughts. He looked much more grown than I'd remembered. His dark, curly locks were pulled back with only a few strands in the front that had burst free. There were streaks on his face where dirt and blood had been haphazardly wiped away. Sansa engulfed me in a hug, pulling me in so tight I was sure she could tell just how little Ramsay was feeding me.

"I'm so sorry it took so long for us to get here, my escape wasn't planned, I would've never left without you if I'd known-"

"Sansa," I cut her off from her babbling, pulling back from the hug and holding her at arm's length. There were tears welling in her eyes, as well as mine. "It's okay, I'm okay." She let out a shaky breath, looking relieved I didn't resent her.

"Ramsay had the key on him." It took me a moment to realize what she was referring to, her and Jon's arrival had almost made me forget that I was still chained in the room. For the first time since she'd come in, she acknowledged Jon's presence by turning back towards him. He looked as though he'd just seen a ghost. To him, I guessed I might be one. He blinked a few times, seeming to snap out of his stupor and reached in his pocket, handing the rusty key over to Sansa. When the manacles fell with a clank to the floor, I felt like I could finally breathe. I rubbed the skin that was under them, it was red and irritated, which wasn't surprising.

"Are you hungry? I'll see what can be made.”

***

"It's for you." A boyish Jon stood at the foot of my bed, on unsteady feet, with a bowl of steaming soup in his hands. Even from the distance it smelled heavenly.

"You didn't have to, I was about to go to the kitchens," I complained, sitting up. Jon made his way around the bed, delicately placing the soup in my cold hands.

"Are you feeling any better?" I saw his hand start to move up as he asked the question, only to stop himself. Was he going to feel my forehead?

"A little," I lied, sipping from the side of the wooden bowl. The soup was hot and delicious; it had been prepared with herbs that were still growing outside. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me." He gave a small shrug but smiled anyway. "I'm just glad to see that you're eating again."

"Me too," I said, trying a spoonful this time. It was potato soup, my favorite. Had he known? Jon sat down next to me before continuing.

"I feel awful." I snapped my head up at his statement.

"Why? Are you feeling ill too?" I stammered, shifting under the furs. He chuckled through his nose.

"No," he sighed, "the stable hands warned me they were still training that horse, but I'd ridden her before and she was fine. I can't believe she threw you off like that, into the stream of all places." I had to suppress a smile, thinking back to the other day. Jon offered to teach me to ride a horse, as no one else would bother, and we'd spent the better part of a day out in the woods. It was the most fun I'd had in ages. Towards the end, my horse had gotten a bit fussy and, well…

Jon was quick to get my sopping wet figure back into the gates of Winterfell, but it wasn't quick enough to stop me from catching a cold. I truly didn't mind. Any time spent with Jon was valuable to me.

"Don't feel bad, it's part of learning... people fall. In streams, sometimes," I muttered towards the end.

Jon's face pulled into a smile at my comment. "Well, let's hope your second attempt at riding doesn't involve a broken bone or two."

***

Potato soup. I was sitting in front of a crackling fireplace, wrapped in furs, with a bowl of hot potato soup that conspicuously arrived. In that moment I wondered if I truly had passed away at Ramsay’s hand, if that was real, if I was just dreaming, still locked in the room.

I knew that I should eat, but the hollowness of my stomach made the food smell less than desirable. Sansa hadn't left my side since she'd unlocked the chains and brought me into the room, going on about the past few months. I hadn't said much.

"How do you feel? You’re quiet,” she bit her lip. 

My throat hurt, it was dry. I swallowed hard, clearing it before answering.

“Okay. It's just so good to be warm." I had no idea how long I'd been cold. I often stayed balled up in that room, as tight as I could. I tucked my extremities into myself and dreamed of the sun. I took a breath and brought the bowl to my lips.

"Jon was shocked to hear you were still alive." I almost choked on the soup. Sansa smiled, one that looked devilish. "I knew you were close when we were younger, but I wasn't expecting him to react how he did," Sansa thought out loud.

"How did he react?" My curiosity got the best of me. I set the bowl down on the small table next to me.

"I'd told him soon after Brienne, Poddrick, and I arrived at Castle Black," I quirked my head at the names, but she was too consumed in her story to notice, "that you were still at Winterfell. He was furious, he wanted to come straight here, but I wouldn't let him." Sansa looked down, wringing her hands. "I convinced him to wait, to gather more men. Otherwise it would have been a slaughter."

I put my hands on hers, her glossed eyes met mine.

"You did the right thing," I reassured her. I knew she felt guilty for not getting here sooner, but she did what was best. I'd feel worse if they'd come sooner, and Ramsay's threats rang true.

"Rickon-" Sansa choked a sob, "h-he-"

I shushed her and put my arms around her shoulders. I'd seen some Winterfell men carrying his body through the gates on our way to this room. "I know," I whispered, shedding tears of my own. I didn't dare ask her how he died, I knew enough. That it was by Ramsay's hand, without a doubt.

We sat for a while longer, both comforted by the silence. The warmth of the fire and the contentment of the soup helped me relax. I realized that I'd been clenching my teeth, so I released them. I'd been in an awful lot of pain the past few months. The wound on my face would leave a plump scar, that I was sure of. Our silence was interrupted by a few maids entering with warm buckets of water for a bath. The mischievous smile on Sansa's face told me she had planned that. It wasn't until the maids had filled up the tub and left that I got the courage to ask the question that was lingering in my mind.

"Where's Jon? I haven't seen him since..." since I was freed from my cell? Since I saw him for the first time in years? Since he looked at me and his stare penetrated my being?

"I believe he's with some of the men of Winterfell, gathering up any survivors of Ramsay's men in the castle," she replied, giving me a look. She knew why I asked. I could only imagine what Jon was doing to Ramsay’s men "I'll leave you to it," she stood, her long furs flowing down to her ankles. It was then that I realized this room was intended to be mine. "I'm sure a bath is just what you need." I nodded in response, and she swiftly exited the room.

***

Jon hissed and pulled back slightly at the damp cloth I held against his temple.

"I have to clean it, Jon," I pleaded.

"I know," he breathed out. "It stings." I could see the pain in the way he scrunched up his face.

"I’m sorry." His eyebrows scrunched together at my apology, his eyes locked to mine. I could hear the wheels turning in his head.

Jon and I had a silent understanding of each other. While we had different reasons for being at Winterfell, we were both seen as slightly less-than the Stark children. Of course, I wasn't scolded by Catelyn nearly as much as Jon was. However, we were both instructed to stand behind the Stark's during the Royal family's arrival, never with them. While Jon was told not to attend the feast at all, I was tasked to stay at Sansa's side.

We noticed these differences, we saw them at a very young age, and we protected each other. We looked out for one another in an unspoken pact, that was shown by Jon walking me to my chambers late after the sun went down, and my defending him when Catelyn was always too harsh.

"Jon, I was fine. Those stable boys didn't cause me any harm."

"They were throwing cow shit at you," Jon blurted out. I had to suppress a grin, he was fuming. 

"Well, they didn't have very good aim," I muttered. Jon returned his hardened gaze to the gloves that were clutched in his hand, he must not have found my comment very funny.

"Eddard and Catelyn will have an earful for you, you know. Especially Catelyn." He turned away from me.

"I know," he said quietly, "those boys didn't put up much of a fight," Jon pulled my hand down, and grasped it in his. "I'd do it again." My heart fluttered and I swallowed hard.

***

I recalled the memory in the bath. It was so vivid, his warm hand gripping my fingers, his eyes locked on mine and saw everything inside them. It was the first time he ever offered to defend me like that.

I had scrubbed myself too hard in the bath and opened the wound on my face. I stayed in the water until it turned murky and cold. I wanted to rid myself of every piece of Ramsay, though I knew it wouldn’t be possible. At least, not for a long time. My only motivation for exiting the bath was the small trickle of blood down my face. After drying off and dressing, I exited the chamber and made my way to what used to be Maester Luwin’s space. Surely, there would be a healer of some sorts there.

It was dark outside, the moon shone bright above. A chill breeze blew through the halls. I pulled my furs tighter against me and walked to the door, opening it. There was no one inside. The room was littered with medical supplies, my best guess was whatever Maester was here had been out tending to any wounded men from the battle. Though I'd patched up Arya's scrapes and scratches from playing too rough with Bran before. With the supplies here, I could fix myself up. It took me a moment of fumbling through the shelves and drawers to find a healing balm in a small wooden bowl. The smell of it reminded me of Maester Luwin. His hands were always covered in the minty salve.

The sound of footsteps coming down the hall startled me, and I nearly dropped the bowl. A soft knock sounded on the door, and I was almost certain I knew who it was. I didn't waste a moment, rushing to the door and opening it. Jon was standing in front of me, his dark hair smoothed back, the moonlight made shadows dance across his face. He wore a plain black tunic with his cloak over it. The air rushed from my lungs. It couldn't have been more than a few moments, standing there, gazing at each other. But I felt like I could spend the rest of my days looking into his warm brown eyes, and I would be content.

"You stopped writing back." There was a hint of amusement in his words, the type that only someone who'd known him well enough could pick up on. I did.

I didn't bother trying to hold back the smile and the tears as we engulfed each other. His arms felt strong and real. One of his hands held me at the back of my head, pulling me so close to him that there was no room for doubt. His breath felt warm on my neck, sending a dance of shivers down my back. I sniffled, holding onto him with every part of me. We stayed together like that for what seemed an eternity.

Finally, he broke our embrace, keeping his hand on the back of my head, holding it, holding me. "I've missed you."

My lips quivered when I spoke, unable to form the right words. "I... I've missed you too." There were so many things I wanted to tell him, so many stories and so many people that I'd met, but he looked at me so intently that words fell flat on my tongue.

He held my gaze and I was sure I'd burst into flames. "How are you?" he asked softly. "Are you hurt anywhere else besides there?" His calloused thumb brushed just below the cut on my face. By the gods, I must’ve been a thousand shades of red.

He'd gained a few new scars himself, his face was littered with them. The little nicks in his skin and the dark shadows of his face made him look so... mature. He was no longer the boy who's cheek I'd pecked before he left for the Night's Watch. "No," I said quietly, wringing my hands. "Nothing serious. Just cuts and bruises."

"That's serious," he started analyzing me, trying to find any, "it's you." I smiled again.

"Come here." He dropped his hand from me, closing the door behind him. I immediately missed the warmth he brought to my skin. I turned to follow him, and saw that he was already holding the bowl of salve. With feather light touches, he began to apply to the wound on my face. It stung at first, if only for a moment, but once the minty coolness took effect, I let out a breath of relief. I hadn't realized I closed my eyes until Jon placed his fingers under my chin, tilting my head sideways to get better access to the cut. When I opened them, they found his. The downward curve of his brow told me something.

"What's wrong?" I asked. My voice cracked a bit, and I cleared my throat.

Jon shook his head, leaning back against the wooden desk. His gaze fell to the floor. "I wanted to come sooner, but we didn't have the men," his soft brown eyes followed the curve of the wound down my face, "I'm sorry." For a moment, I thought I saw a wetness in his eyes.

A lump formed in my throat, and I swallowed hard. "For what? Winterfell is back to the Starks. You did what you had to do."

His expression softened. "I know," he said quietly, "I don't think I can thank you enough for keeping Sansa safe the past few years." He reached out to brush the hair away from my forehead, and I could feel the heat radiating off his hand. "She told me everything. About Joffrey, Baelish... Ramsey." He spat out the last name with venom as his jaw hardened.

"Is he...?" I didn't need to finish asking the question for Jon to understand.

"Sansa put him with his hounds. I don't imagine he'll be there much longer."

I knew exactly what that meant, and a breath of relief left me, one I never knew I was holding in. Though I'd felt relieved, I knew that it wasn't the end of Ramsay's torment. He would continue to haunt the darkest parts of my mind. I would continue to have nightmares where his touch was everywhere, and no matter what I did or said, I couldn't shake him off of me. I'd only experienced a fraction of what Sansa had from him. I couldn't imagine what she'd been going through. She was stronger than me, that I knew for certain. I made a mental note to talk to her about, at the very least let her know that I was willing to, if that was what she chose. Jon's warm hand on my arm pulled me from my thoughts. He was looking at me, expectantly.

"What?"

"I asked if you'd like me to walk you back to your room," his voice was laced with concern.

I tried not to show how his offer made my heart squeeze. I nodded. We walked side by side through the castle halls, silent except for the occasional murmur of voices drifting around us. Once or twice, we passed another person, but neither of us acknowledged their presence. The silence was nerve-wracking. It didn't take long before we reached my room, a small smile tugging at his lips. I stopped short outside the doors, turning to face him. He was right behind me.

"Was the potato soup any good?" Jon asked, and it took only a moment before it clicked in my head.

"That was you?"

"So it's still your favorite, I take it?"

"I-... yes."

Jon smiled and nodded his head slightly, stepping back. He was starting to leave. A burning ache ran deep inside me. I felt myself longing for him, although he was right in front of me. "Jon..." I paused. His presence was doing that thing again where it made it very hard for me to speak. I needed him to say something. Anything. So when he said nothing, I continued. "Would you... stay, for a little while? Please?" I finished lamely.

It was all the encouragement he needed to step forward and set his hands on either side of my face. His thumb rubbed along my cheekbone and up toward my hairline, making me shiver. His eyes flew back and forth between mine, looking for permission that he always had. He nodded delicately, pulling me in and pressing a kiss to my lips. It was so soft, so gentle, so tentative. But even that small moment made my stomach twist into knots and my knees go weak. I closed my eyes, savoring the feel of his lips on mine, letting the lingering feelings of the past few months melt away. It didn't matter that there was still so much to be said, so much to figure out and plan with the retaking of Winterfell. Things would melt into place, as I melted into him.

Ramsay had left his mark on me, literally and figuratively. And maybe he would continue to live in the parts of my mind that he clawed out space for, but Jon never needed to claim space for himself. He had it earlier when he kicked down the door to my cage, when he hugged me tightly goodbye the day he left for Castle Black, when he showed me that smile that always turned my insides to mush, and every time in between. All without having to ask for it. He was slowly filling it with warmth, with love. With life. So maybe Ramsay had some part of me, one that I may never get back... but those parts were all Jon’s, and I'd always treasure them.

As his lips moved against mine, I realized I’d made it. 

I finally felt like I was home.

Tags: @pastanest @nyotamalfoy

[fallloverfic]

"Nimona" movie artbook thoughts

There's so much neat stuff here. Spoilers for the movie below the cut but just dang I love this

So many neat ideas for long-haired Ambrosius. Ponytail Ambrosius! He looks so cute!

There was going to be a magazine cover with "Goldenloin bares it all" and I like to think part of this is in reference to the two pin-ups Nate drew (Pin-up 1 and Pin-up 2). It's neat to see how much they were building up his celebrity in more ways. In other concept art, he was on more magazine covers, and he shows up as part of a parade. There are lots of concepts of Goldenloin fans.

Also this Ambrosius test is amazing. The weird Todd/Ambrosius fusion in motion lol But you can tell they even modified it later to turn it into Todd. He's a bit softer here in a way and just... fun. Todd cosplaying as Ambrosius/having a nightmare/dream about it aldkjalj

It was also interesting to see more confident Ballister. There's an animation test with him fighting some Institute guards, and it's very clear in early concept art (from that popular viral test back in 2021 as well) that he was more confident in earlier production.

More adorable Ambrosius/Ballister moments, and some cute Ambrosius. They're absolutely sweet.

And unfortunately one of the biggest losses in the movie: the amazing stuff they show for Meredith Blitzmeyer. At one point she was going to be covered in magic tattoos.

"For a long time, the character of Meredith Blitzmeyer was in the film. She served many different functions in many different iterations. At one point, she had a magical van that was bigger on the inside. In another, she was covered from head to toe in magical tattoos. And in another, she was the head of a vast underground society, called the Silver Society, comprised of all the magical creatures forced into hiding by the institute. Ultimately, the story went in a different direction, but her design and model were so beloved that she wasn’t lost but repurposed into The Queen." This all sounds so cool (except the repurposed into a character who dies in the first 10 minutes of the movie part T-T).

She has an entire spread. It's neat that she got to show up in some form (when they recycled her design for Valerin), but I love the idea of the Silver Society and her place in it and also Ballister having more friends and just ugh. These designs and world-building are so cool. I wish we'd seen all of them in the movie.

Also finally an eye dings chart! With everything clearly explained lol Neat to know I wasn't imagining some in-between diamond/square shape when Ballister is changing.

And this pride flags spread! There's a drag queen club! I just love all of this!! Seeing them spread throughout the movie is fun but it's neat to see the collection here!

Also this line: "In actuality, there has not been a monster attack since the first, so the fear and belief of the possibility is the only thing keeping the populace in check." It's neat to get confirmation of that.

Also a very much more violent Nimona was in the early/late-ish production lol.

José Manuel Fernández Oli talked on his Facebook collection of concept art about there at one point being an underground of outcast shapeshifters, and I don't know if that's what we're seeing here, but we were at least maybe also going to get more magical people (which matches the Meredith plans)??

Weres? People with fire magic? Satyrs? Demons? Elves? Or just a wider range of shapeshifter people. That would have been so cool.

There are environment designs for the Institute, Ballister and Nimona's hide-out, people designs, a few more test animations they haven't put up elsewhere, more Nimona shapeshifts (more dogs and cats, a second kind of gnome, more of her bulkier, muscular design, more types of dragons, a goat, more ancient Nimona concepts, plant monster Nimona, alien(?) Nimona, etc.). We nearly had goblin Director. Older Gloreth concepts... It's all really awesome.

All in all, a lot of really cool stuff.

[oodlyenough]

apollo justice: ace attorney thoughts

over the weekend I finished playing AA4 so I wanted to try to put my thoughts in order. much to think about etc

spoilers for the whole game obv, but i haven't played AA5 or AA6 yet so any mention of those are speculation lol

I had heard some pretty mixed reactions to AA4 and I had a lot of reservations going in. It's also probably the AA game I've played that I've been the most spoiled for, which is a shame but probably an unavoidable consequence of waiting for the port while engaging with the fandom. I don't usually like being spoiled but I think knowing the broad strokes of what to expect actually helped here. I can imagine an AU where I blitzed through the first trilogy and onto 4 with no idea of what was coming and being... very upset and disappointed by the direction it took. Having several months to brace for things like Phoenix's disbarment, the 7 year gap, Trucy, etc definitely softened those blows and made me more amenable to them than I would've been otherwise.

Cases

For the most part I thought the puzzle solving was good and the pacing was solid. The puzzles were mostly challenging enough to be satisfying to solve but not so challenging as to be infuriating, and I don't think I needed a walkthrough at all. 4-1 is one of the best tutorial cases in the franchise so far (though I'd give the edge to 3-1) and 4-4 was a really cool finale. The middle two cases tbh I also found fairly charming, and there's usually a least one case in the middle that seems to drag forever, so that was a pleasant surprise. I played Investigations 1 right before this, and I thought both the puzzles and pacing in that game were frankly horrible, so AA4 won a lot of points just with that.

I did think Turnabout Corner and Serenade would be more relevant in the grand scheme of things. The half-spoilers I knew had me expecting a much bigger web of conspriacy than we ended up with -- I expected it to be more than coincidence that Phoenix got hit by a car, more than coincidence that the Borginian egg coccoons are related to poison etc ... like... I fully assumed this was going to tie into the atroquinine plot. But I guess not ... ? Lol

Characters

The new main cast are all very likable, despite my initial reluctance to have a new main cast to begin with. Klavier was an interesting change of pace as prosecutor, in that he wasn't particularly antagonistic outside of the court, nor was he particularly preoccupied with winning, but he was still fun and challenging enough to face off against. Trucy was fun and delightfully bonkers as all assistants should be. Apollo's longsuffering exasperation was hilarious. Ema is the BEST I loved having her as the detective I wish she was there all the time.

I loved Beanix, for the most part. I can see why he rubs some people the wrong way, and tbh I'm glad his last canon outing isn't ... this. But I didn't find him wildly out of character, or at least, when he was feeling "out of character" vs the trilogy it made sense given the intervening events. I also thought it was fun to see him from the outside and see what a galaxybrain 5d chess master he is. I do wish we'd gotten to see more genuine moments of him with Trucy.

Kristoph was fun as a villain, though I have to say fandom led me to believe he was much more of a mastermind puppeteer than he seemed to be in reality. I was expecting a whole decade worth of conspiracies! Instead he fucked up once and struggled to fix it for seven years, lol. I also found the Kristoph/Phoenix relationship a) very fascinating, b) not really what I'd been led to believe by fandom (shocker). I like the canon more though -- I like that instead of being a retread of the Dollie betrayal-from-someone-you-love it was two guys who hate each other being forced to play nice as part of their own schemes.

Criticism

I think it's fairly obvious AA4 was meant to be a soft reboot of the series, to pivot away from the trilogy cast and set up our new heroes in Apollo, Trucy, and I guess Klavier. I think this is probably the entire explanation behind Maya and Edgeworth (and others but lbr those are the big two)'s conspicuous absence... but that doesn't make their absence any less conspicuous. I can squint and forgive neither of them being there when Phoenix is accused of murder, even though I find that insane. I can squint around Maya maybe being off in Kurain during the Enigmar trial, even though I think they could've used a line of dialogue to explain it. But then we started playing past-Phoenix for huge portions of investigation and that started to fall apart for me. Sure, maybe he's pushing his friends away because he's depressed, or maybe he wants to keep Maya out of things because he thinks it's dangerous, or whatever -- you could at least throw in a line or two saying as much. Not mentioning them at all and setting AA4 so closely after AA3, where Phoenix fell through a bridge to save Maya and Edgeworth chartered a private jet, just feels ridiculous.

I also think, at the end of the day, the story here was focused on and pivoting around Phoenix. The core question of the game is "what the hell happened to/is up with Phoenix Wright?" I love Phoenix, so that alone isn't a negative -- except that I think it meant Apollo, Klavier and even Trucy felt underwritten. Trucy and Klavier have such personal stakes in the unfolding events with the Gramaryes and Kristoph, but we only spend a little time and hints on how that might influence Trucy, who mostly falls into the AA weird girl pattern of brushing off major trauma instantly. (Maya got this a lot too in the original trilogy.)

Klavier ... I like Klavier, but they did not do much with him. How did he feel about Kristoph going to jail? He doesn't seem to hold it against Apollo, which is uh, noble, but perhaps not believable. He says he values honesty and truth but do we know why?

Apollo, likable as he was, felt like a passenger in his "own" game, rather than a major character. He doesn't even solve much of the stuff happening in the big overarching mystery -- he is Phoenix's avatar in court, presenting evidence and clues Phoenix left for him. Unlike Trucy and Klavier, who I am pretty sure take a back seat from now on, I guess Apollo still has two more games to try and flesh himself out ... lol but I also know fan reception of those two is not great, so my expectations there are minimal.

Overall

A really solid game that I enjoyed playing, though I can see why it's controversial and not some people's favourite, if they really loved the trilogy. I think it's debatable whether this was the best/only way to continue the series after AA3. And I am excited to read and write a billion 7 year gap fics now.

[descendant-of-truth]

What I like about this scene is how it tricks you into thinking it's just here for a quick laugh when it's actually the beginning of a surprisingly deep look into part of Rockman's character - specifically, how he handles lying.

See, Rockman's never really... lied in this show before, I don't think. He doesn't usually have a reason to, but even then I would describe him as being honest to a fault.

But when put under the pressure to seem cool to Trill, a young child who idolizes him, he cracks and tells probably the most bold-faced lie of his life: that he was totally not scared by a monster movie. He's never been scared of anything! Hasn't even screamed once!

And it's. such a goofy lie to tell?? It works on Trill because he's like five years old, but to the viewer who knows him better than that, it just comes off as a funny, harmless thing to say.

Rockman does not see it as either of those things.

To him, it's not cute that Trill takes him at his word by virtue of being a young child who doesn't know any better. If anything, that's part of the problem; maybe if Trill didn't believe him and just teased him about it instead, he wouldn't have to worry about lying so much. But as it stands, Trill is believing a lie, and it eats at Rockman throughout the episode.

And at this point you kinda start to guess how the rest of it is going to go down. Rockman will eventually come clean to Trill, who's gonna say that Rockman is still cool even if he screams at scary movies, and they'll all have a big laugh and move on.

This is not what happens.

Instead, Rockman digs his heels into the lie further, stopping himself from screaming every time Trill tries to scare him (which is a realistic toddler thing to do if I've ever seen one), until he eventually loses his trademark patience and yells at him to cut it out.

And in a move that defies the usual expectation of setup and payoff, Rockman never actually. tells Trill that he lied. and there's a part of me that's bothered by that, but what we get in exchange is so interesting to me that I can't help but feel it makes up for it.

Something to note is that, throughout this episode, it's stated that Trill likely sees Rockman as an older brother, and so he's affectionately referred to as "big brother" by Roll a few times in a teasing sort of way.

It's all fun and sweet and par for the course; I think everyone knew that Trill was going to act as a younger brother to Rockman as soon as he was introduced, so having characters bring attention to it isn't unusual. And Rockman doesn't really comment on it either way... until Netto calls him that at the end of the episode.

This. this is the scene that really makes me go insane. just absolutely bonkers

Because like, okay. listen. this is only episode four of the season. it's not at all surprising that Rockman doesn't consider himself to be Trill's brother, because he's known him for all of three days and he's only been talking for one of them.

But that phrasing.

If he had just left it at "I'm not his big brother," we'd all have a nice chuckle and go "sure buddy, I'd like to see you say that by the end of this season." But he has a qualifier for WHY he's not Trill's brother, and it's because he lied to him. about not being scared of a movie.

And notice how matter-of-factly he says this, too. Remember how troubled he was earlier by the fact he had lied at all? Well it seems that, after perpetuating that lie for the rest of the episode, he's gotten past those doubts and reached acceptance in the idea that... he's lost his brother privileges.

Suddenly we've learned something very interesting about how Rockman handles lying, and it's that, while he's surprisingly capable of keeping a lie up, he finds that even one as innocent as this makes him disqualified from being Trill's family.

Which is Totally Normal and Not at All Concerning Behavior

But you know what. we can make it worse.

Imagine with me, for a moment, that all of the Saito Lore from the games remains true in the anime. If that was the case, then Netto still hasn't been told about it this many seasons in, making it a secret that Rockman keeps every day - a lie of omission.

What if the reason Netto hasn't been told about it for this long, the reason it seems so easy for Rockman to never bring it up, is because he's long since decided that he's not Netto's brother anymore.

"After all, I did lie to him."

And it just keeps going because if we decide to take that angle with it, then it suddenly becomes a lot more pointed that Yuuichiro is the one to assure Rockman that lying to your little brother is Sometimes Okay, Actually

Like of course he would say this, the guy who encouraged Rockman to lie to Netto in the first place in order to keep up the image of being a Reliable NetNavi

Don't get me wrong, it's a really interesting character trait for Rockman to have even without adding game context to it, but using Trill as a parallel to Netto in this scenario adds a special something to the whole thing that I'm never going to be able to stop thinking about

[sxturnrjpple]

KAGIHIRA CHAP 24 SPOILERS (PT3)

THEY'RE BOTH SO HAPPY WITH EACH OTHER I CAN'T PLS IM DYING HERE (ALSO HIRANO IN THE SECOND AND THIRD SLIDES IS SO PRETTY LOOK AT THAT SMILE HE'S HAVING SO MUCH FUN)

don't worry kagi, he'll tell you soon im positive😭😭😭

okay so i was waiting for this moment here.

i think their relationship and hirano's feelings are actually moving really fast. this story is a slow burn without any doubt but it seems slower because the updates are very far from one another. i wanted to open this parenthesis for my analysis: as we know hirano has never had a relationship and most likely never liked anyone in that way (im assuming since he's being so slow at realizing). i suppose when you already know a feeling, you're able to recognize it right away just like kagi did, but that's exactly hirano's problem. we know he keeps blushing and doing all that affectionate stuff (including saying affectionate things) but still doesn't get where they come from so i thought that he just never felt that way and doesn't see those actions as romantic because they're towards another guy. he said he's never even thought about dating a guy probably because in his growing up environment the ideal romantic relationship he's been taught is right is between a man and woman (that's just a theory obviously but im also speaking as a typology geek and that's exactly how Si function works). anyway, the point is that in reality hirano's going really fast with the realization, faster than we all probably see (that's because of the updates schedule cause it's only been 24 chapters but if we got a chapter every month, imagine where we'd be now. i guess sensei is also adapting the story to the schedule). anyways, we've got progress, let's gooo 😭😭😭

about hanzawa!!

I've seen many people say that he's homophobic but what im saying is a homophobic person wouldn't support his queer classmate and his boyfriend and even help them get together. it's a little confusing and im struggling to get it but im sure he's not homophobic, mostly because he's grown up with queer siblings and so in an accepting environment. i believe he has other motives for doing what he does and i also think yashiro's words were put in that way to confuse the characters AND the readers.

[slaaverin]

3 days before the travel show and I feel already all over the place. So many emotions are already flowing, and so many questions to answer. I know that whatever expectations we have of jikook, they always somehow surpass them. But how? And how will people react? And how will we be able to handle it?

If you told me we'd get 8h+ of jikook content, I would have laughed. But it's not only content, it's just the two of them, with no other distractions, no work, just their real unfiltered interactions, in a context where they can simply have fun and enjoy being with each other. I feel like crying with how huge and unbelievable that is.

I don't know what we're gonna see, I can only imagine but I don't know, because we've never seen them in a situation like this. This is complete uncharted territory. And it makes me scared and anxious because there's a limit to the bro spin. What if they do something so huge people can't deny it anymore even if they try. Jimin said "I don't know if we can air this" and it doesn't calm my worries.

When we get seconds or minutes it's already on the limit. The articles are using very romantic terms already. But in 8 hours+? Sooooo much things could happen!

I am excited because I know we're gonna see them so happy, and it makes me happy. But I am scared as well because I don't know how far they're gonna push the boundaries, and I hope they will remain safe.

People would say "Don't worry, they would edit it out if it got too far". Would they? Really? They didn't edit out the hickey, they didn't edit out Rosebowl. They are pretty loose on the editing and what's supposed to be "politically correct" when it comes to jikook. And jikook however you squint act and feel and look like boyfriends on a 2 minute clip already. So in 8hours+? What the hell are we in for???

This show looks like pure joy, pure love. Like this is it guys, this is the most jikook we're going to get in such an intimate way. This is like a (BIG) peak into their relationship.

And they are letting us see it. Can you imagine how lucky we are? What's happening is INSANE. It's just not something that happens in normal life.

Everything will be on display. Except haters anyone with eyes will see their love. I'm???

This is really beautiful, because us jikookers we truly love these two men, and seeing them this happy, I think we're gonna reach levels of joy little things in life can provide otherwise.

This is a really special situation, with really special feelings, in this particular context, that will rise us up collectively, make us feel so many emotions, maybe all at once? Perhaps we'll cry, scream, hold our breath.

We spent so many years supporting these men, against all odds, because we recognized love and it touched our hearts so deeply it made us want to celebrate every little moments. We never faltered in our support.

Well I feel this is like the reward for all the love we've been giving back to them.

This is our time, truly.

Grouphug 🫂

It will be ok to let out all of our emotions. Let's be insane on the tl, share the joy, cry together, be a mess. I feel grateful to be doing it with all of you people.

How lucky we are to be alive at this time to witness this! Life works in mysterious and beautiful ways.

Let's enjoy it to the fullest ✨️

(I may share more thoughts as the show progresses)

[patchwork-crow-writes]

Thoughts on Kris x Ralsei

This is so long I had to split it up into parts - this is Part 1, which looks into how the roles that Kris and Ralsei are given contributes to the idea of their romance. As more parts are written, they'll be linked below in this handy-dandy TOC!

Part 1: And They Lived Happily Ever After <- (You Are Here!) Part 1.5: I Believe Your Choices DO Matter Part 2: A Pair of Star-Cross'd Lovers Part 2.5: In Another World, We Could Have Been (Just) Friends

Okay, so.

Wanted to elaborate a bit on my viewpoint of this ship, because I don't think it's something I've ever really discussed before and I think it's actually a very interesting dynamic (or at least has the potential to be, depending on where the rest of Deltarune goes).

So, Kralsei is cute, isn't it? It's fun to hug the fluffy boy and watch him melt into incomprehensible stuttering and blushing. All the little signs he's really, really into Kris, all the cute little snippets of dialogue you can initiate with him, all the alone time they spend together, in both chapters... honestly, the game makes it hard not to root for this pairing.

And yeah, it's cute... in a very surface-level, don't-think-about-it-too-hard kind of way. But once you start thinking about it... hoo boy. There is. A LOT to unpack here. So much more is going on just under the surface, and once you see it, it's difficult to un-see it. And in my opinion, it makes the Kralsei dynamic so much more nuanced, more compelling, and potentially quite tragic.

Now, a disclaimer: it's fine to like this ship on a surface level. No real harm is being done, these are fictional characters and it doesn't matter what reason you enjoy it for - if it provides comfort to you and gets you through, then more power to you! This is more me sorting through my thoughts on the subject and is not a judgment on how others approach it. With that said, and in the spirit of full disclosure, this will go into slightly uncomfortable territory - picking apart the idea of destined love, the deconstruction of common romance tropes, how outside manipulation might play a part, and even the potentially incest-adjacent nature of the relationship. If you don't want to deal with any of that, you can stop reading right now, and that's okay. Please continue to enjoy Deltarune in the manner that is best for you, and thank you for your attention thus far :)

If you're still with me, then please click the read more and we'll get started.

Part 1: And They Lived Happily Ever After

The first thing you have to understand is that Deltarune is utterly determined to cram the notion of Kralsei down the player's throat. The game is not subtle about this in any way, shape or form. Everything from the narration, to the dialogue, to major game events, to item interactions, and even the roles that Kris and Ralsei play both in the story and the party, serves to reinforce the notion that these two are very likely to end up romantically involved with each other in some way.

Let's look at the characters first. Kris is portrayed as the noble knight - stoic, unwavering, courageous, a natural leader - clad in medieval-inspired plate armour and wielding a sword and shield. And Ralsei is the archetypal princess - demure, dainty, kindhearted, nurturing - who uses magic to heal his allies and pacify enemies.

I did not mistype there - Ralsei is a prince, but the characteristics associated with him are more commonly found amongst female healers in JRPGs. Think Fina from Skies of Arcadia, or Marle from Chrono Trigger (minus the temperment), and you might have an idea of what I'm on about.

Think of knights and princesses for a moment. Imagine St. George slaying the dragon to save a helpless damsel. Imagine Lancelot and Gwenevere. Robin Hood and Maid Marion. Link and Zelda. Squall and Rinoa. Every single fairy tale involving an imperilled princess and a knightly rescuer. For a more modern take, imagine The Bodyguard. Ness and Paula. I could go on, but then we'd be here all day.

Suffice it to say that there is a pretty entrenched tradition surrounding these archetypes - a male-coded, phsyically-adept, courageous, stoic, action-oriented figure, is paired with a female-coded, magically-adept (depending on the medium of course), less-physically-capable by comparison, emotional, and more passive foil. The (male-coded) knight protects and rescues, the (female-coded) princess nurtures and soothes.

It is a very, VERY emotionally-charged dynamic, by its very nature. Through their acts of service to their protectee, the Knight displays their devotion and care for the Princess, and is in turn emotionally-enriched and cared-for. There is a great deal of physical and emotional vulnerability between them, and it is therefore ideal for romance stories.

Look at Kris and Ralsei again, through this lens. Kris is immediately put into the role of Knight, and Ralsei quickly establishes himself as a classic Princess. Almost instantly, before you've even become aware of it, you've made the connection - they're going to fall in love, because that's what ALWAYS happens in these stories. Ralsei supports and encourages Kris, both in dialogue and in battle, and Kris...

...Kris, uh...

...they...

...hug Ralsei sometimes...?

...they... they give him a ribbon...?

...no, that can't be right.

But it is right, for two reasons. One, Kris doesn't have to do anything. The roles are already established, and Ralsei is playing his part like a pro. And two, Kris doesn't do any of those things in the first place - you do. It's the player who hugs Ralsei, who gives him the ribbon, who picks the dialogue options, who makes the connections. You're the Knight in this scenario, not Kris.

Because Kris doesn't get to make that choice. Kris has to do what you tell them to do. And many of us have already jumped to the conlusion that this romance is happening, becuase that's what always happens. The Knight and the Princess fall in love. They get married. They live happily ever after.

So we ship them, because hey, it's cute, and it's easy. I can't stress enough how easy the game makes this. I'm fairly convinced that Ralsei was designed by comittee, like the Funzo toy in that one episode of the Simpsons. Like he was created with the sole purpose of being the most disgustingly adorable, lovable, awkward little cinnamon bun that ever existed. Like he was created to generate the maximum emotional response in players. It's the cuteness response dialled up to 11, and we are almost hard-wired to want to protect this little bundle of fluff from any and all danger, because lookit how sweet and adorable he is! The glasses make his eyes look all big, his fluffiness is reminscent of that of baby animals, he stutters and fumbles his way through dialogue, and you just want to scoop him up and put him in your pocket or something.

And so, we're more than happy to fulfil the role of the Knight to Ralsei's Princess. Whether Kris actually wants to or not. Because it does become increasingly obvious that outside of our influence, Kris is still their own person, with their own goals and desires, but no real agency with which to pursue them. Would that we could know what they truly want, but we are never presented with an opportunity to find out.

The thing is, Kris is not particularly... knightly. They play pranks on their friends, they swipe sweet treats from their mother, they seem to enjoy getting a rise out of people, and particularly from Asriel, if the story about "dropping the lizard into the pit to jump higher" is any indication. They sleep through class, yet by Berdly's grudging admission they are the "third smartest in the class". The only reason they go to church is so they can drink the "sick fruit juice". They don't seem to have any issue with prank-calling their mom, while she's taking about them with their tutor, while they're standing just out of sight, while they're balancing a trash orb on their head.

Nothing about this behaviour screams "Knight." If anything, it would make more sense for Kris to have become a Rogue-type character upon entering the dark world. So the question remains - why is Kris forced into that role? And to what extent is the seemingly "fated" romance between Kris and Ralsei part of that role?

Folks, we have barely scratched the surface here. If I keep writing here this will become a novel, so I have to stop for everyone's sanity. But I will follow up soon, looking into the ideas of Purpose and Destiny and how they relate to Kralsei in-game. If you've stuck with me up to this point, let me just say thanks, because wow I wrote a lot here, and it's probably a bit rambly and says the same things two or three times, but I just. Had to get this onto the page in some way or another, so... here it is.

Thanks for reading, and see you in the next one :)

[amaretigris]

Dreamy Part 2

Taglist: @hopeisrising @notagreekgal28 @luna2034 @justagirlthatlovedtoread @mylittlemermaid221 @freyagallileaevans @daydreamerwithnohobbies @jonahmermaid23 @jonahhauer-kingg

A/n: I came up with a part two for this. I hope you guys enjoy 😘

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1.8k words | Pure fluff

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"Sorry, sorry."

Jonah set his drink down, and brought his hands back up to placate.

"That was a joke. I don't mean to poke fun though. That was a tense situation."

You wiped the baffled look off your face and smiled.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I was trying to play along, and just went with my gut. I made it awkward," you grimaced before you took a long sip through your straw.

Jonah noticed the action. His eyes took on a more serious tone, and he reached his hand over to yours to reassure you.

"Hey, it's totally fine, (Y/N). That creep had you all worked up. There's no need to apologize. Besides, it wasn't awkward. I think we were actually pretty believable."

He gave you a soft smile, and watched as a blush tinted your cheeks. You smiled back, and he withdrew his hand.

"We were, weren't we?"

You knit your brow. He nodded.

"I'm sure we'd get along well. What do you like to do in your free time? I can't imagine it's spending it in places like this."

You lifted your eyes in thought.

"I love going to the movies, but besides that and concerts, I'm pretty much a homebody. What do you like to do?"

"I also like going to the cinema, and reading quite a lot. I spend time with my mates when I can."

You smiled at his response.

"So you don't normally come to places like this either?"

Jonah tipped his head.

"Occasionally. Although I do have to say that this bar is not my favorite. I prefer places where you can have a little quiet, and privacy."

"Yeah, that seems like it'd be a better experience. I don't drink much anyway, though," you shrugged.

Jonah smiled.

"Yeah, I try not to drink much either. It fogs the brain too much."

The two of you continued chatting for a while. Jonah was very polite and kind, but you'd guessed that when he protected you from that lowlife earlier. As you sipped more of your margarita, you felt yourself growing a little bolder.

"What do you do for work? Do you model?"

Jonah laughed at that.

"Part time, believe it or not. I'm trying to break into acting, though."

"Yeah, I could see it," you nodded.

"You're kind of dreamy," you offhandedly mentioned.

Jonah was quite amused. You seemed to be a lightweight, considering that you hadn't even finished your drink earlier before that man ran you off and it got tossed. One margarita was all it took.

"Ah, you can see it? Some people don't believe me."

You blew air out of your mouth and made your lips flap. Jonah had to hold back a chuckle. Pretty and funny.

"They're blind, then. I'm sure you get hit on all the time," you waved your hand in his direction.

Jonah shrugged.

"I'm not sure. In that dress, you could probably get more numbers than me."

You opened your mouth in disbelief, and looked down at your outfit.

"No way," you decided, shaking your head.

Jonah lightly chuckled, but took a second to just look at you. You were beautiful in your blue green dress with your cheeks and chest flushed from the alcohol. Your lips looked especially pouty.

"What do you say we-"

"(Y/N)?"

A foreign voice cut Jonah's question short. You both turned in confusion. Oliver, the guy you were originally supposed to meet, stood before you. You blinked, taking a moment to realize who he was. You sobered up quickly.

"Ah, shit," Jonah heard you whisper to yourself.

"Oliver...," you trailed off.

"Listen, (Y/N). I know I'm over an hour late. I apologize. The tube I was on broke down, and it took forty five minutes to get transferred to a new one. Unfortunately, my phone also died because my battery is shit. I know that I'm so late, but I decided to still come and see if maybe you stuck around."

Jonah looked back to you. Your eyes were saucers. You were processing what he said, and you watched as Oliver nervously pushed his glasses up his nose.

"I think that's my cue to le-"

Jonah started to get up from his stool until you reached your arm out to stop him. Your eyes begged him to stay, and Jonah sat back down. You fixed Oliver with a determined look.

"Oliver, I'm sorry as well. I have to be honest. I mean this in the nicest way possible, but I didn't really want to come on this date. Ariel made me. I don't think we'd be anywhere close to compatible."

Oliver's eyes dropped.

"Oh," he sighed.

He took his glasses off.

"Well, if we're being honest, I actually overslept from a nap after work. I didn't want to come either. No offense. I'm interested in Ariel, but she was dead set on setting me up with you. I just wanted to be able to tell her that I tried," he shrugged.

Your eyes found Jonah's again, and the two of you burst out laughing.

"All good then," you waved your hand.

"Thanks, Oliver. I'll put in a good word for you with my sister," you gave him a thumbs up.

Oliver got visibly excited, sliding his glasses back on.

"Really? Thanks, (Y/N). See ya."

He nodded at you and Jonah, and turned to march back through the crowd.

You put your hands over your face and shook your head.

"Well, guess my date didn't go as planned," you started. "It's for the best. I was dreading sitting through another boring one, honestly."

You caught Jonah's amused gaze, and a question came to mind.

"Do you think we meet certain people for a reason?"

Jonah swallowed, and he nodded.

"Yes, I do. I think everyone who comes into our lives teaches us something, whether it's good or bad."

You nodded pensively.

"I think you're right."

You took a deep breath, realizing that your buzz was wearing off. You didn't feel nearly as bubbly.

"Well, I suppose I should get going," you started.

"I'll have to wait for an Uber though."

"Where do you live?"

Jonah quirked his brow.

"I'm not asking to be creepy. We could share one is all."

You laughed. He was sweet.

"I live in Nine Elms," you answered.

"Really?" Jonah asked in disbelief.

"That's where I live. See. We were meant to meet, although I am sorry that it was through such unfortunate circumstances."

"Let me call an Uber," Jonah pulled his phone out.

You smiled. It was nice having someone who was willing to help you out for a change.

"Here," Jonah handed you his phone.

"Type in your address, and I'll add mine after. I won't even look at yours."

You chuckled, looking down at the phone to type it in.

"It's okay, really. Maybe since you live so close, we could hang out again."

You tried to shrug and make it seem like a casual suggestion.

"That is, if you don't get too famous for me," you joked.

Jonah grinned.

"You beat me to it. I was going to suggest the same thing. And trust me, dear, I could never be too famous for you."

At his insinuation, you cleared your throat, and finished typing in your address. You handed Jonah his phone back. He typed his in.

"There," he set his phone down for you to see.

"The Uber gets here in ten minutes."

"Good," you started to yawn.

"I feel like I'm starting to crash."

Jonah nodded, and rubbed your arm.

"Probably so. I'm sure your adrenaline was pumping earlier."

You sighed.

"Yeah, it was. I'm going to run to the restroom before our ride gets here," you pointed.

Jonah nodded again, and watched you get up to leave.

Looking at your reflection in the mirror, you were thankful that you had actually put extra effort into your hair and makeup tonight. You'd almost decided that it wasn't worth it, but now it was paying off. You combed your fingers through your hair, and noticed that you were flushed. It happened every time you drank. Yawning again, you were trying to perk yourself up for the ride with Jonah, but you were so tired.

Walking back to your seat, you admired Jonah's back. He had wide, strong shoulders. Shaking your head at yourself and your thoughts, you grabbed your purse. Jonah stood when he saw you.

"Hey. Are you ready? I think the Uber is pretty close now."

"Yeah, we can go stand outside," you agreed.

You sighed, and grasped your purse strap. You were mentally preparing yourself to push back through the crowd to the exit. To your surprise, Jonah simply grabbed your hand, and led the way. People actually parted when they saw him. You moved through the crowd with ease. Outside, you took a deep breath of fresh air. Jonah led you to the street corner, and the two of you waited there. Realizing that you were still holding his hand, you decided not to say anything about it.

After about a minute, a car pulled up to the curb. The man rolled down his passenger window to talk to you.

"Jonah?"

"Yep," Jonah nodded.

He stepped forward, and opened the car door for you. You slid into the backseat. When Jonah was settled beside you and the driver took off, you turned to him.

"I'm really tired. I might doze off a little. I'm sorry," you warned him.

Your eyelids felt increasingly heavy. Jonah grabbed your hand in his, and stroked his thumb across it.

"That's okay, love. You can lean on me if you need."

You nodded, leaning into his warmth. You closed your eyes, and sleep overtook you. Jonah smiled to himself as you dozed off. This night may not have gone according to plan for either of you, but he thanked his lucky stars that he was there to protect you from that slob earlier. He hated to think of what could have happened otherwise.

He inhaled the scent of your hair, and examined your hand in his. About fifteen minutes passed, and Jonah had laid his head on top of yours. He watched the city pass by through the window. The driver pulled up to your building and parked much sooner than he would have liked, and Jonah hated to wake you. He delicately brushed your hair away from your face.

"(Y/N), I think we're here."

He couldn't help himself. He kissed the top of your head. You finally stirred.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

You sat up, looking around.

"Is this your building?" The driver asked.

"Yes, thank you," you unbuckled your seatbelt.

You turned to Jonah before you opened the door.

"Listen, I seriously don't know how to thank you for tonight. I hope I see you again."

Jonah gave you a soft smile.

"Real quick, can I have your phone?"

You reached into your purse to grab it out, handing it over. He typed in his number, and called it for one ring for good measure.

"There. Now you have my number, and I have yours."

He handed your phone back to you. You looked down at it. Gathering your courage, you opened the door before turning back to kiss Jonah's cheek. You slid out of the car, and quickly closed the door. Walking up the stairs to your building, you considered yourself lucky. In the backseat of the Uber, Jonah touched his cheek, and considered himself quite lucky, too.

[innerchorus]

So I've seen a few people here and there speculating that Estelle will turn out to be Tahamenay's daughter, and tbh I was never convinced by it but today I found myself wondering 'well, what if...'

I'm not saying that I actually think it's going to happen but after some consideration I can see why others have it as a theory? (Fair warning, there will be some novel spoilers in this post.)

If it's not resolved or it turns out the child was dead all along like in the novels it feels like either a loose end or a very unfair ending for Tahamenay. Yeah, she's not my favourite character and the way she treated Arslan is harsh even if you understand why, but I still feel compassion for what she's been through and feel like she deserves to reunite with her missing child.

If she is going to meet her child, it would feel jarring for that child to pop up as a completely new character, whereas the revelation that the missing daughter is actually someone we already know would hit the right note. (Having said that, I feel like we'd have been picking up on some groundwork that hinted at it by now if it were true.)

Yeah, there's no real evidence that it's Estelle (sure, she must be about the right age, but there's no hint that she's not actually Lusitanian, and no evidence of the bracelet that the three candidate girls were given in novel canon) and maybe the main thing making people think this is that in the anime Estelle was said to be adopted whereas in the novels/manga she's the only child of a knight, but I do kind of like the thought that after seeing Arslan come to terms with the truth of his origins, she's faced with a shock of her own (and the woman who turned out not to be Arslan's mother is in fact her own).

In the absence of a tell-tale bracelet, how would we know that Estelle is the child of Tahamenay and Andragoras? Well, she could be able to draw Rukhnabad, and I think that would be a really fun moment! We've seen Hilmes draw the blade due to his royal blood, and we've seen Arslan unable to draw it due to his lack of it, which sets us up to understand what Estelle being able to draw the sword would mean. I can't deny it'd be a nice reveal!

Estelle's importance to Arslan and his to her is very clear. That's true regardless of whether anything romantic develops between them, but I keep thinking about the fact that in the novels, Narsus had the idea of marriage between Arslan and Tahamenay's daughter (if they can figure out who it is) as a way to join the old dynasty with the new. I imagine he (and Lushan, lol) would be all for this union if Estelle turned out to be the daughter of Tahamenay and Andragoras.

Would Estelle remain in Pars even if this were true, though? I'm really not sure. As such, I don't think it'd work as a plot point. And like I said, I don't actually subscribe to this theory myself, I just felt like taking a look at it in more detail.