#on the next chapter of scions

[shina913]

Ugh. I'm sick and my only consolation is that I’m dropping a little Scions one-off today. It's basically a flashback that's gone way too long, per usual.

Hope to post ~2PM PST.

It's a little soft!Joon moment.

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 3 - Dreams And...

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE) - PLEASE REMEMBER TO CHECK, THIS CHAPTER IS DARKER IN TONE!

PREV - NEXT

Your hands are pruned. It’s quiet in the extravagant bathroom, other than the sound of the tap’s running water and your own shaky breathing. This was all a bit much. Your hands are more than clean now, but you absolutely do not want to go back out there.

You kind of just want to go back into one of the stalls and cry. A core girlhood experience, except you were an adult with a job and taxes. Or, you were. You think you’re some rich scion or something in this dream. Which like, cool, who wants to slave under capitalism anyways?

…You wonder if anyone would notice if you slipped out the window. You’d been gone for a while and nobody had come looking for you, since you’d totally gotten lost trying to find the bathroom. Sure, you were on the third floor, but at this point you were willing to risk it. Even if you couldn’t walk in a straight line right now, much less climb the trellises. For some reason, you could not handle your liquor today like you usually could. But once again, this was all just a very vivid dream, so it wasn’t like you could die.

To punctuate that thought, you hear someone scream.

It cuts off instantly, and then there’s quiet again. You pause, then turn off the tap, listening for any more sound. Drip, drip, drip… you press the tap down again and properly turn it off. Still no noise. Immediately, you realise you are standing directly in a horror film. You live in Gotham for fuck’s sake. It wasn’t an unlikely occurrence. You’d gotten mugged just a few days ago.

And you were alone in the bathrooms. So unbelievably drunk, and alone in the bathrooms. You were actually so dead, it was crazy. A dream, a dream…!

Your head bows, staring into the white porcelain of the sink as you focus hard on your hearing. You don’t think you could hear the party before, but you’re not sure. It’s definitely not there now. You swallow the dry pain in your throat, trying to summon a modicum of courage. Your vision spins.

You slap your wet hands to your face and then blink through your fingers. God. Okay, okay, okay. You can do this. You survived a mugging just last week with only minimal bruising. To convince yourself of your badassery, you dig your fingers into the blemishes, hoping to wake yourself up with the pain. It’s a bad habit but you have lots of those.

…Where’s the pain? Oh god, where’s the pain? Wait, don’t panic, it’s a dream! Of course, you wouldn’t have your bruises in a dream. That made total sense. And you definitely weren’t panicking.

You splash more water on your face. Time to face the music, you drunken moron. If you were going to be in a horror movie, you’d be the final girl of all final girls.

One hand on the sink, you take your heels off. They’re going to get in the way, and the sound of them clicking against the marble will give away your location. Massaging your sore ankles, you try and come up with a game plan. You don’t know what’s going on, and it really could all just be a false alarm, but better safe than sorry and all that. It’s a gala full of some of the richest people on earth, and you’re pretty sure you saw a swat team of security guards at the entrance.

So this was probably a hostage situation or a villain attack. You’d hear more noise if it was a supervillain fighting a superhero downstairs. Then you’ll bet on a hostage situation for now. Depending on who had taken you all hostage, that could be a totally fine situation where you all just end up leaving with lighter purses, or it could be the Scarecrow’s shown up and he’s about to mentally traumatise you. Like you needed any more of that.

Of course, this was all probably still a dream. Maybe if you say it enough times you’ll actually believe it. You’ll just plan ahead in case this is real (which it definitely isn’t). Plus you’d proven you could feel pain in this dream anyway, with all the times you’d slapped yourself. You hoped the fucking Tim Drake didn’t think you were too weird. Because he definitely thought you were weird.

It’s cool. You’re cool. You could handle this. You were a Gotham native after all. Totally cool. You have to force yourself not to gag on your own fear. Totally, absolutely, terrifically cool.

A few deep, calming breaths later, and you’re cracking the door of the lavatory open just an inch. You peer through the crevice, taking another deep breath when you don’t see anyone in the hallway. You push the door open a bit wider, peek your head around it to look the other way. Still empty. Another deep breath, you feel your chest rise and fall, and then you take the first step out onto the wooden floors. You wince at the slight noise the bare sole of your foot makes and hurry over to the long Persian rug to snuffle any more sounds.

And then you’re standing in the middle of the hallway in your ballgown, head swivelling back and forth as you try and catch any minuscule sounds, shoulders bunched up to your ears.

The first thing you need to check is the exits. Since you are on the third floor, and the banquet was on the first, you can assume that they’re well-guarded, but probably far away from you. Still, this is the Wayne Enterprises Tower, and there wasn’t just the party happening tonight. It was mostly empty as you’d seen but there’d been a few people you’d wandered past. They’d all seemed like late-night office workers, and the female janitor you’d bumped into was the one who had told you where the toilet was.

Was the janitor okay? Was that her scream you’d heard? Concentrate, dumbass. On airplanes, they tell you to put your mask on first before you do it for anyone else. The idea was the same here. Save yourself before you can hope to save anyone else.

That was… that was if you even needed saving. This could all still just be your own paranoia. Someone hit their knee on a ridiculously fancy side table or something. Like that scream wasn’t of pure terror. Like it didn’t sound like someone on death’s door.

Concentrate! Okay, check the stairs first. Don’t take the elevator, because you’re not an idiot. Maybe. Hopefully. Slowly but surely you creep your way back towards the entrance to the third level, where both the elevator and the stairs were. There was a map, too. You hadn’t been able to figure it out earlier, but you had a bit more incentive this time.

You make sure to place your feet carefully, aiming for the carpets and rugs. Even if your drunken steps miss half the time, you’re still mostly quiet. Every time you have to walk across a crossing you spend a minute listening, and then peer around every corner too. You’re not sure if you should be running, or if you really should try one of the windows.

Deep breaths. Keep moving. That’s the best course of action. Don’t get caught, but don’t just hide either.

It’s when you’re almost at the third-floor foyer when you hear something. There’s a crash, the sound of something breaking. No voices, though. Still, you can’t convince your body to move for a full minute. There’s a part of you that wants to go hide in an abandoned cubicle and wait, but there’s another part of you that is very aware of the rates of fires in this city. You keep going, taking a longer route to avoid the source of the crashing.

Another noise. A scream. Laughter. Spine-chilling laughter.

Shit, motherfucker. Why the hell did you get smashed at a fucking Wayne gala? Everybody knew the rogues of this city were totally obsessively in love with Bruce Wayne. Especially your own personal worst nightmare. You don’t dare even think his name, lest you summon the bastard.

Was he in Arkham right now? He should be. Like you should be at home in the Narrows getting a good night’s rest. Like you should be wearing dorky Flash pyjamas, not a dress more expensive than your rent.

He should be. It’s not nearly enough.

You realise, suddenly, that you have to make a choice here. You can walk away, pretend you didn’t hear anything, that you can’t hear anything. A woman’s cries, you think. You could leave her, save yourself. Hideaway and let whatever fate she’s facing befall her. Could you do that? Could you even stomach the idea?

In the end, the universe makes the decision for you.

“And who do we have here? What’s a pretty little thing like you doing wandering around?”

You hear your doom in his slimy voice, even though you didn’t hear him sneak up on you. Shaking, you raise your hands into the air, and slowly turn around. You see your doom in the twisted clown mask’s grin. For a second you think it’s really him, but then you notice his dark brown hair and the tanned skin under the mask. God, god, god. It’s a Joker goon. Your literal worst nightmare, given flesh. Is he here? No, no, no- You swallow down the urge to scream, to run, and do your best to keep thinking like a person and not a prey animal.

You feel like one. You think he knows that. You hope he doesn’t.

“Hey Travis, I found another one!” the man calls out, raising his gun to point at you. He jerks it, moving forward, and you turn back around obediently. The gun presses against the back of your head, and you move forward, obediently.

“Shithead, don’t say my name out loud!” another voice replies. You get to see its owner when you come around the corner and find the foyer.

There are five other people here, all tied up. Four seem to be exhausted office worker bees, who just stayed too late on the wrong day, and the last is the janitor who helped you. The kind lady gives you terrified eyes, but she’s the only one not crying among the hostages.

“Man, you worry too much. Like there aren’t hundreds of Travis’s in the city.”

“Just shut up, my god! If we leak info and it gets traced back to us, he’s docking our pay.”

Who’s he? Who’s fucking he?! He can’t be here, right? He fucking can’t be. You can’t, you can’t. God, you're going to vomit right here and now.

“Whatever. Anyway, this is the last person on this floor.”

“Check the feed again, dickhead,” the second one commands, obviously the leader between the two.

The one who caught you groans, and then you hear the sound of fabric shuffling. Is he looking at his phone? You wish you could turn around and look. You don’t dare with the barrel against you.

Your teeth dig into the side of your mouth. So did they have the security feeds? That meant you were doomed from the start. The only other option would’ve been to actually jump out one of the windows. They would’ve probably found you anyway. Hunted you down to meet their quota.

Shit. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. This is looking like a big deal. And everybody knew Joker never left out on his big deal jobs, he enjoyed them too much. He’s probably downstairs demanding the Batman come meet him and have tea or something. Shit.

All of a sudden these goons seem like the much better end of the deal.

“Checked, checked, double-checked, triple-checked… There’s nobody else here,” the man behind you grumbles, and the one in front of you sighs.

“Alright, alright. Bring her over, I’ll tie her up, and then we can blow this joint,” the man says, and you really, really hope he’s not being serious about blowing this place. You’d had enough of explosions, thank you very much. Especially ones organised by the Joker.

The gun digs harshly into your skull, “Well, go on.”

Swallow, swallow down your fear. Don’t let it stop you. You walk forward to the other man, arms in the air shaking. When you’re in reaching distance, the second goon roughly grabs you and shoves you to your knees. He pushes your hands in front of you, not bothering to tie them behind you. You don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.

The rope cuts into your skin. It’s going to leave marks, and bruises. The man finishes tying the knot and then pulls you back to your feet. Then he shoves you towards the elevator and turns to start picking up the other hostages. You turn so your back is toward the wall, not willing to have your eyes off the monsters for even a second.

It’s when he’s pushing one of the office workers towards you, that the second man speaks again.

“Hey, the boss said we had to kill one of ‘em.”

What? What did he say?

“Oh yeah, oops.”

The gunshot goes off before you can process the words. Before you can process the gunshot, the janitor’s body is crumpling to the floor. Before you can process her fall, blood is starting to seep from the wound in her chest. Before you can process any of that, the man behind you laughs.

He laughs. He laughs and laughs and laughs.

The janitor lies on the floor, blood seeping into her hair and uniform. You squeeze your eyes tight, tears slipping over the lids. You refuse to look at the wound. At the gaping hole in her chest. And despite yourself, you know why they shot her, not you. Not any of the workers either.

Because she wasn’t worth the cash.

Yesterday, that would’ve been you on the floor. You were a fake wearing a fancy dress, who didn’t belong here at all. Still, they didn’t know that. You didn’t think anybody knew that. Not anyone but you, who had woken up in a world a little to the left.

“I’ll be down in a minute, Trav. I wanna play with this one for a bit,” the shooter says, and all of a sudden you’re thrown back into your body, into your frail mortality. You’re cold, your spine gives a shiver, and your horrified eyes find the wretched clown mask.

Like you said, your doom. You wish you weren’t right all the time.

“No way. She’s one of the high-profilers, we need her,” his leader replies, and you’re desperate to stick by his side. You didn’t think a Joker goon would be your saviour, but here you were.

“I’ll give you five K of my split,” he offers, not willing to let go of it. Of you.

The other one pauses, glances at you assessingly. There’s a glint of something in his eyes, something that tells you you’re not making it out of here unscathed. It’s something you recognise, something you even recognise inside yourself.

It’s greed. And it’s going to kill you. You always knew it would, you just didn’t think it’d be like this.

“Make it seven,” he finally announces, the deal for your soul made without any fuss or fanfare.

“You’re such a hardass. Fine, fine, seven it is.”

“Alright, and only thirty minutes, tops. Not a hair on her head, you understand me?” he says over his shoulder, waggling a finger at his coworker.

The group leaves through the elevator. It dings, and you watch in mute, stunned horror as the other hostages refuse to meet your gaze. As they abandon you to save their own asses. You couldn’t really blame them, as much as you wanted to. You were ready to do the same earlier.

“I think not even a hair is pushing it, right?” the creep says, finger reaching out for said hair. You jerk back out of his reach, an instinctual flinch. He grins, and lets his hand fall back to his side. You take a shaky step backward.

You’re trembling with fear. With the need to get away from this terror, this situation.

He gestures with his gun, pointing back in the direction of the branching hallways.

“Well, go on. Run.”

And God help you, you do.

Spinning on your heel, you flee to the echoing sound of his laughter. Your feet fall rhythmically against the marble floors, the sound of your bare soles far too loud. You can’t even do anything about it. There’s no option for stealth here, only the sort of hunt you’d expect to find in the woods.

Not here in civilised mankind’s territory. But this was Gotham, and the monsters often looked human.

You dart into a large room filled with tiny square cubicles. A call centre or something, a maze of low walls that are too small to hide behind. You keep going, teeth-gritting when his laughter cuts off. He’s taking this seriously, hunting you down. You think he’s done this before. ‘Played’ with people.

You can’t worry about those other poor victims, lest you become his next one.

Another crash, this time to your left. Your head snaps to the side, eyes wide, but when you look there’s only a broken lamp on the floor. You have to swallow down the urge to cry. He is. He’s playing with you. He’s having fun with it.

You keep running, passing by halls and offices and don’t stop running till you can’t. Out of breath. You’re out of breath. You bend over, the stitch in your side too much for you to stand. Why are you out of breath? You can run more than this. You often run more than this when you’re late for your morning train.

What’s going on? What’s happening to you?

A bang, behind you. You spin around. Don’t see anything.

He’s nearby. Right under your nose. You need to keep running, you have to. Through your panting you hear his laughter again, and that’s enough fear to get you moving again. Maybe you were in Arkham, arms strapped to your side and screams wailing down the halls.

You didn’t believe it. No, not in this moment. Not right now, as you run for your life. If you lived through this, you’d probably go back to thinking it was all a dream or a delusion.

But with that monster nearby, there’s nothing this could be but real. With sweat dripping down your neck, smearing your makeup. With the feeling of your heart beating out of your chest, in your ears. With the blind, all-consuming panic you’re in.

He’s real. And he’s coming for you.

You lift your tied hands and press them to your lips, muffling the sound of your harsh breathing and soft sobs. Heart beating out of your ribcage, you push your body even as it screams for you to stop. You’re flagging. Vision’s swimming, and you can feel bile creeping up your throat. You can’t keep doing this. You need to keep doing this.

For a moment, you stop to catch your breath. And he catches you too.

You scream, tugging at the rough grip on him. He swings you around into a wall, and again, you cry out. Side throbbing with pain, singing with it. Still, you don’t stop. Can’t stop. Not safe, not safe, not safe. You push back against him, and he pushes back against you. Your drunken state is no match, and you tumble down onto the carpet. When he laughs, you look up at him, and he down at you.

The goon’s plastic mask merges with the Joker’s mutilated face, until you can’t tell the difference.

You aren’t the type to fight back. It’s just not instinctual to you. But when you hear his belt buckle clack, your foot kicks out before you can even think. You hit him squarely in the stomach, knocking him backward, and then you scramble away from underneath him.

“You bitch!”

He grabs you by the nape of your neck, yanking you backwards. You choke, hands grasping desperately at the grip around your throat, but he offers no relent. You’ve pissed him off. That doesn’t mean you can stop, can give up. You can’t stop fighting. Can’t stop struggling. Can’t stop, can’t stop, can’t stop-

The gun clicks. You freeze.

“Yeah, figured you’d be more obedient if I did that. Now, get up,” his voice is breathy, from the high of the chase or the hit you delivered, you’re not sure.

You hope it’s the latter. You hope this fucker drops and dies, right on the spot. You’re not that lucky, though.

Ah, your hands are hurting again. Not just the one, but both. Maybe you touched something. An allergic reaction of some sort. It shouldn’t be distracting you, it shouldn’t even be noticeable in the situation you’re in but god. The itchy heat is nearly as unbearable as the evil cretin in front of you.

“You think you’re gonna get away with that? I’m so fucking sick and tired of you whores who think you matter anything. You don’t, and I’m going to help you realise that,” he rants. His eyes are red through the tiny slits in the mask. Angry, dangerous, on the edge.

“Please, look I’m sorry,” you stutter out, stinging hands in the air. You want to run, but you think he’ll shoot if you do.

“You’re lucky I don’t fuck corpses.”

No, that doesn’t sound very lucky at all, actually. No, this seems like maybe it might turn out to be the new worst moment of your life. You don’t think it can get much worse than this, than the next moments that will pass. And it’s too much. It’s too, too much. Your palms are itchy and there’s a gun pointed between your eyes and the goon’s licking his lips and oh my god you’re going to die from an allergy before the bullet and-

And you just want it all to stop. You want it so desperately. You want the man in front of you to disappear, to never exist again, to go right down to hell where he belongs. You just want him gone.

Your hands stop hurting. The burning heat disappears. It’s quiet again. You can’t hear him laughing, the awful slick sound of him licking his lips. You can’t feel the cool iron on your forehead, the heat from his body so close. You can’t smell his sweaty stench. Your eyes open.

…There’s no gun. There’s no man.

You crumple to the ground with a relieved sob. Fisted hands lift to your eyes, as big blubbery tears stream down your face. Your shoulders shake with your cries. Your heart is screaming in your chest, trying to beat out of it. He’s gone, somehow. You’re alive, somehow. You’re not dead with a bullet in your brain, somehow. Somehow, somehow, somehow.

An impossibility. It’s an impossibility, and you’re so goddamn grateful for it.

As always, you don’t give yourself long to cry. Even as your tears still fall, even as you lick them off your mouth, tasting salt and lipstick and fear, you push to your feet shakily. You almost fall over with your hands still tied, shouldering the wall next to you for balance. You don’t have time to cry. No time to process what just happened. You need to get to safety.

You creep back into the main area, heart pounding in your ears, breath hiccuping. You don’t know how long it takes for you to get there. Ten minutes, thirty, maybe even an hour. When you try the staircase door, it doesn’t open. You yank on the handle, grab a chair and try and smash it in, but it stands strong. Fuck. You try the elevator as a last-ditch effort, but the buttons don’t respond.

You press your overheated forehead to the cool metal. Okay. Okay. Okay, okay, okay.

You turn around and storm back into the cubicle space, find one at the edge of the room with a clear view of all the doors, and tuck yourself under the desk. Pulling your knees to your chest, you resist the urge to rock yourself like a baby.

And you sit there, and you watch, and you wait. It doesn’t matter how many hours pass, you are not moving from this spot. It doesn’t matter how heavy your lids feel, how the adrenaline leaving your body has you sagging.

You’re not going to sleep. It’s not safe, and you’re not dying today. You’re simply not.\

You’re not allowed to.

-

A hand touches your shoulder, and you snap awake. Your fist slings out at the would-be attacker, but they dodge it smoothly. When you rear up for another, they move back, hands in the air in a show of surrender. Panting, you don’t lower the fist, your vision swimming.

It’s the Joker. But the Joker wouldn’t back up, right? And the Joker isn’t red, he’s green and purple.

It takes a while for the Joker’s pale, laughing face to disappear. But when you blink and he’s gone, you find someone else underneath. A red mask, a man you think you recognise from TV. A vigilante. God, you hated the vigilantes in Gotham.

Not more than the Joker. Not more than him.

The man stays a safe distance away, gloved hands firmly in the air. He’s tall, really tall. Broad-shouldered, scary. But he’s a vigilante, right?

Is he here to save you? Someone should've by now. The bastard's late then.

He says your name, you think. You can’t hear him properly. Wait no, it’s a nickname, one you haven’t heard in years. You could barely remember your mother calling you that as she tucked you in, as she told you she loved you over the phone, as she disappeared from the world entirely.

You hadn’t let anyone call you that since.

How does he know that name? How does this bastard know your name?

“-hurt? Hey, hey. Listen to me, are you hurt anywhere?” his voice is deep and warbled through the red metal mask, his eyes peering down at you through his domino. You just stare at him, eyes wide, barely breathing.

You need to know how he knows. Unconsciously, your hand reaches up to him, and after a moment, he takes it in his own firm grip. It’s awkward, as you’re still sitting half under the desk and he’s trying to stay as far away from you as possible. Still, his hand is warm through the leather, grounding, keeping you from drifting off into panic and fear. Into your worst nightmares come to life.

Because this was real. It didn’t matter that it was impossible, it was real. You simply couldn’t deny it any longer, this was all real.

You stare at this stranger’s gloved hand like it holds the answers to the universe. It might, in the end. It really just might. It wasn’t like the universe was making much sense at the moment.

“She seems fine. Uninjured, if a bit shocked. Doesn’t seem to have a concussion. Hardly responding anyway,” Red Hood speaks, but not to you. An earbud, you think. Superheroes used wiretaps and things like that all the time, right?

If you could even consider Red Hood a superhero. Everybody knew he had his own gang. Of course, even as your very life is being saved, it’s by a morally grey hero who runs around with crowbars and guns. Ah, you’re crying again.

You told yourself a long time ago that you wouldn’t let yourself cry anymore. And you’d managed it, mostly. You think you’ll give yourself a pass for today, just a little one. You hold this stranger’s hand, and you cry.

You just cry. You cry, and you hold the hand of some stranger you hate, because you have to.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

[girlfromthecrypt]

Such Happy Campers is an interactive horror/romance novel made in Choicescript.

DEMO / COG FORUM POST

status: demo consists of five chapters + prologue, currently at 147.192 words, last updated on July 15th.

You are an employee of the Cloverleaf program. Your job is to organize and oversee their seasonal vacation for kids from low-income backgrounds and troubled homes. This summer, said vacation will be hosted at the rustic Camp Solace, a cabin campsite situated right next to the picturesque Lake Solace and flanked by acres of woodland.

Camp Solace is idyllic, calm and far removed from the bustle of civilization. 

V̵̲̂e̶̝͆ŕ̸͍y̷͎̏ ̷͚̎f̵͈̀ā̸̦r̵̀͜ ̸͓͘r̴̜̂e̴͉̕m̵̺̎o̷̢̓v̶̒͜è̴̘d̴̳̐ ̴̀͜i̵̡͊ñ̷̘d̸̼̀e̷̪̽ȇ̵̯d̴̜͒.̷̰̚

It'd take you quite a while to reach the nearest town in case of an emergency…

Ý̷̭ö̸͎́u̷̘͗'̴̘͘d̸̛̰ ̶̢̐ḇ̸̌ẻ̸̦t̴̝̅t̷͚̒e̷͓͑r̸͔̿ ̷̱̆m̸̜̔a̸̳̍k̵̰̍ě̸̖ ̸̦̚s̷̛̺ṵ̴̔r̵̘̅e̸̝̽ ̸͈̑n̴̡̛o̶̬͑t̶̺̊h̸͖̋i̵͎̽ṅ̵̜g̸̗̽ ̴̹̿ḧ̵̘́ā̷̦p̸̖̎p̵̻̑e̴̗͌n̵̡̒s̶̜̈.̶̥͂

But you're not alone in this! Working alongside you are Basil Laurier, the free-spirited scion of the wealthiest local family, Anita Merrick, the smart but skittish university student intern, and the Malak siblings, both skilled and experienced teachers. 

Now go take care of those happy little campers.

Customize your MC’s name, appearance, outfit and apartment!

Be a good camp counselor and protect the kids in your care!

Romance a charismatic heir, a chronically sleep-deprived psychology student, a temperamental musician or a reserved martial arts instructor!

Get to know your team and form lasting friendships!

Uncover the lakes long-forgotten secrets and save Camp Solace from the horrors that are slowly closing in on you.

TW: mentions of bullying, toxic past relationships, troubled childhoods, mental illness. Non-graphic.

[greycaelum]

I have another question, sorry if I'm spamming 🫣 but I was wondering if Kouki has ever attended meetings with his parents as the heir to the Gojo family? And how are Reader, Kouki, and Saiki treated in the world of Jujutsu Kaisen as the wife and children of the "strongest" ?

Kaleidoscope Series—Clouds and Mochi Chapters: { Field Trip }

—Gojo Satoru X Wife Reader

𑁍 Genre: traditional clans, politics, parenthood

𑁍 WC/CW/TW: (1.2k)—/timeline where Satoru managed to accomplish his goal of resetting the jujutsu society, remnants of traditionalist clan, politics, Y/n's role as the Madame of Gojo Clan, Kouki and Saika are candidates for being the next clan head—/

𑁍 A/N: will be catching up to the piled-up asks one by one~

If someone told you a decade ago you will be seated in meetings of the Gosanke, meet and discuss matters with the prime minister regarding matters with the jujutsu society, or the one overseeing the Gojo Clan in Satoru's stead, you would laugh at them and tell them they got their heads in the clouds.

Yet perhaps, one cannot really talk with finality because fate seems to always like bending what seems to be impossible to possible.

After all what would they expect from a human with a not so significant amount of curse energy to manage the top family of the jujutsu clans? Much more to be the drive behind movements in the Gojo Clan, resulting in movement in the stagnant jujutsu society.

Many traditionalist clans spited Satoru for such "preposterous" action. While the minority saw it as progress. Either way, they have not much of a choice but to address you accordingly as the Madam of the Gojo Clan and treat you as the wife of Gojo Satoru.

"If you don't feel good, you can excuse yourself and go with Yuta Onii-chan. He's guarding outside." You held hands with an eight-year-old Kouki who is wearing his light blue traditional haori and hakama with the Gojo Clan crest whereas you wear a kurotomesode with five Gojo Clan crests signifying the formality of this meeting. "Whatever you hear in the meeting must stay in that room and will never be brought out, do you understand, sweetheart?"

"I will be fine. I will sit beside you and protect you, Mama." Kouki looked at you with a determined look on his face so much as if you were looking at Satoru.

"Really? Mama feels safe having you beside me today sweetheart." You gently pat his head and motion for your bodyguards to stand outside as you enter the meeting chambers of the Three Great Sorcerer Clans and the Higher-ups.

You walked in with a stolid greeting to everyone as you found your seat on the round table and Kouki sat one step behind you in an impeccable seiza form he perfected in his etiquette classes.

It seems no one has expected the young scion of the Gojo Clan today and didn't take long to point out your son's presence. The others greeted Kouki as he returned them politely, the others took some time to eye the son of Gojo Satoru before turning to you.

"This isn't a playground for kids to easily enter."

You glance at the vicious tone of a minor clan head, one of the few traditionalists who survived the crusade.

"He is eight years old, and done with his hakama-no-gi." You glance at your son wearing his kimono like any adult in this room, then back to the older man. "Borrowing my husband's words, it's a field trip."

"Gojo Y/n, this meeting is not for kids to attend. This regards confidential matters of the Jujutsu administration. What are you trying to do?" An elder man seconded the motion.

"Young as he is, my son is one of the candidates as heir to the Gojo Clan. He needs to learn. Unfortunately, my daughter is still young so she cannot attend yet." You smiled.

Kouki saw the disagreement and unsatisfied looks of the people around them.

This is probably why his father always looks haggard when talking about this formal stuff. Clenching his fists he kept his mouth shut and looked at the people around the table, imprinting their faces in the back of his head. If he wants to protect the people he loves, then he will need to do better than this. He needs to protect his Mama.

"Oh, Kouki. Are you here to accompany Y/n-san?" Maki, in her hakama and haori with the Zen'in Clan crest, entered the room and was surprised to see the kid sitting behind you.

"Maki-san, good morning." Kouki promptly nodded at his elder sister who sat beside his mother after ruffling his head.

"Y/n-san, good morning. The hamburger steak you sent yesterday was very delicious. Thank you." Maki smiled brightly at you and looked at the people around the table with narrowed eyes.

"The Daiginjo Sake you sent last week was so good too Maki-kun." You chuckled at the younger girl and whispered. "Satoru was knocked out with just one shot."

With the landscape of the Jujutsu clans extensively reformed from the succeeding wars and tragedies that rocked the society's long-term traditions and foundations, it has also been quite rocky but more open for change regarding the stigma and decisions the higher-ups must execute for more viable options regarding the non-sorcerers and sorcerers welfare.

You were focused in the meeting and had long discussions with the people present. Sooner or later you know Kouki will grow bored and you don't fault him if he wants to leave, after all, no matter how good a kid your eight-year-old son is, he is still a kid, too young to sit on seiza for hours straight.

"Kou-kun? Do you want some onigiri?" Yuta sneaked in a rice ball on the boy who sat straight with his hands on his thighs. "We can go out if you want."

"I will stay with Mama." Kouki couldn't fully understand what the elders were discussing but all he cares is that he can see you work and hold your ground in front of all these people so gracefully. You look so effortless as you handle the matters being thrown at you regardless of how heavy the topic is. You've always been a good communicator, unlike his Papa who can be very nonchalant.

An hour later the session took a break and everyone went out to get some fresh air.

"Sweetheart, your legs must hurt from all the sitting, let me see." You were surprised that Kouki managed to sit through the meeting without being fussy.

"Mama, when I grow up, I'll be like you." Kouki scrunched his nose when he felt how numb his legs had gotten from sitting like that. Your surprised eyes met his determined ones.

"Like me? You're gonna handle clan matters, Sweetheart?" You chuckled and took some snacks for Kouki and Yuta to eat.

"No... I'm gonna be calm and smart like you." He met your eyes. "And I'm gonna protect you."

"You don't wanna be like your Papa?" Satoru popped out of the corner, one hand tucked in the pockets of his slacks, the other carrying your four-year-old daughter with her glittery backpack and frilly yellow dress. "Don't you wanna be strong and handsome like Papa too, Kikufuku?"

Satoru walked by your side and set down Saika who immediately ran to hug you.

"Mama! I missed you."

"Satoru..." You hugged Saika but then sighed at your husband. "Why did you bring her here?"

Satoru shrugged, pulling up his blindfold, and exchanged it with his black glasses. From the slit of the glasses, he swept a sharp glance over the spectators who gathered on the corners since he came with his daughter. It was enough to turn them away. He's just making sure no one would bother you and his son and at the same time make a statement to anyone that would dare that he's watching over his family.

Satoru looks back at you and puts an arm around your waist. He glances down at his son who notices the people watching them as well. The boy certainly is observant more than what's expected of him. Good boy... He returned his eyes to you and just grinned.

"For field trip..."

Footnote:

Hakama-no-gi: Five year old boys celebrate this. When wearing a kimono was commonplace, boys would start wearing the hakama and those boys from a samurai family would wear a haori (jacket) over the hakama. This signifies that the boys have started their journey into adulthood.

—GreyCaelum

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

Check out the Masterlist for more

All rights and credits of the Jujutsu Kaisen character(s) mentioned images(s) and songs(s) used, belongs to their respective owner(s)

General/Kaleidoscope Series Taglist: @ice-icebaby @aeanya @gummy-dummy @tender-rosiey @lexiene @nevermoresworld @loml-riri @pelicanpizza @emichou-chan

[jamethinks]

Sitting, Eating and Breastmilk: An examination of the Desmonds family dinner

**cw for discussion of abuse, manipulation, and vague mentions of disordered eating**

Lots of things to note about the interactions of the family in the recent chapter and how that reflects their dynamic and Donovan's control over the family.

I am by no means smart, just chatty. Media analysis is a skill I am trying to develop slowly... very slowly. Bear with me.

Also unedited hehe let's see how many times I forget to negate a word and just fucked everything up *tiktok smirk emoji*

Firstly, we will observe the sitting positions.

On the right hand side of the table we have Donovan, the head of the table. Right side being the dominant side it further affirms his position of power over his family. Furthermore it gives him full view of his family. He can see all of them, clearly. At some point we see him scan the room, checking to ensure everyone is acting correctly.

On the opposite side, we have Melinda. Although she is also at the head of the she's on the left hand side aka the non dominant side. If we were to use our left as our dominant side, we would be scorned and discriminated against, right is right. This is reflective of her role as the mother. She's technically in a command position, but it's one with no power whatsoever. She has power, but it's limited. If she tries to gain more, she will be met with scorn. She is also in direct view of Donovan, meaning he is especially aware of everything she does.

Then there is Demetrius. Demetrius is seated on the northern(? I do not know my cardinals, lmao) side of the table. This is again a dominant position in the family. He's sat closest to the head of the household. While Damian is a scion, Demetrius is the heir expected to follow in his father's footsteps and inherit his power. Demetrius' proximity to his father is also harmful. Donovan is very attached to Demetrius in a way that may seem like he cares for him more, but it simply opens Deme up more to his father's abuse. Remember Damian's words about his father spending more time with Deme as a child, that one panel of him staring at Deme as his works (staring is a bit unfair though that's just how his eyes look). So on paper, Demetrius is seeming in the best position but in reality he has the worst luck.

Lastly, there's Damian. He's sat closest to his mother on the south side. While his brother is closest to the head of the household, he's closest to the tail. He is at the least powerful position of the table, reflecting his nothingness to his family. He's also sat far away from his father, which is part of Donovan's approach to abusing Damian. Negligence. By completely ignoring his son, he forces damian to actively seek out his attention (and affection). Damian spends most of his time trying to get closer to his father w/o realizing he's in a position of complete submission. It also forces him to envy his brother, who again seems to be the closest to his father. Damian has to depend on mother who despite the illusion of being equal to Donovan, has nothing to offer in support of her son. In the end, Damian is forced to sit there alone.

The next angle is food.

Demetrius eats his food quietly and at a proper pace. He ignores everything around him and just eats his food. Deme is a simple man. He does as he is told and moves on. He studies hard and achieves a lot. He's composed and emotionless, exactly what his father wants him to be. He's the perfect son. Emotionally stunted and isolated, focusing on the task at hand and nothing more. He doesn't even spare a glance at his mother or brother. When he's finished, he gets up and leaves, probably going back to work.

Donovan, eats ig idk I wasn't watching him.

Melinda doesn't eat much and only drinks. This can be taken a lot of ways. The main way I interpret it will be spoken on later, but let's look at the other two options. One is that she's too disgusted by her husband to eat. The situation is so unbearable that it completely suppresses her diet. The other option is that she can't. Dietary control and eating disorders are a very patriarchal way of controlling and abusing someone. Again, she's in a direct line of sight to her husband. She can't eat a lot of food because, as a woman, she isn't supposed to. She should stay weak and feeble and hungry, with a constant state of need and submission.

Damian eats at a somewhat slow pace. He's young, and kids are known for being complicated when it comes to eating. They're slow with most tasks as their still learning and trying to figure it out. He's the last to "finish" and by the end, he's left alone by the table. His father's parting comments indicate that he was trying to eat faster to meet up with his family but failed in the end. Donovan subtly reminds him of his position, the slow and last one. That he shouldn't try to shake up the dynamic.

The last detail I wanted to touch on was the interactions between Melinda and Damian.*

Background: Breastmilk is a naturally produced substance by mammals that is used to feed and nurture their young. Mammals have a unique relationship with their young, often found to have genuine bonds and love for their offspring compared to most other animals. In the case of humans, our evolutionary bond with our young is far more complicated. Babies are born underdeveloped compared to most species, can't walk, can't talk, can't even shit right. They're useless. But because of how intelligent humans are, our young can be so useless and dependent since we have the capacity to care. Thus, however, it results in an extensive dependence on the mother/primary caregiver.

Breast milk is a bit of a magical substance. When feeding, babies will spitback (don't ask me how) milk and the mother's body will analyze it to check the needs of the baby and adjust the contents accordingly (again don't ask me, just look it up. This allows the mother to feed her baby, bond with them, and keep them healthy by ensuring they have all the nutrients they need.

Throughout the dinner scene, Melinda doesn't eat and spends most of the night sipping wine. Meanwhile, Damian is constantly shooting signs that he needs her help. By not eating, Melinda is limiting the amount of nutrients available in her body, preventing her from being able to feed him (i.e., attend to his needs). If she did try, it would come a cost, draining her of what little she has for herself. Furthermore, by consuming alcohol she's making the milk unsuitable for him, meaning it would also bring him harm.

Obviously, breastmilk is a metaphor for love and care (?). Melinda can't offer Dmaian what he needs with harming the both of them. It inadvertently still causes them harm (Melinda starves and is now filled with alcohol which is bad, yk). It's a lose-lose situation, one perfectly orchestrated by Donovan. Although she's suffering in this moment, Melinda still plays his little game, afraid of what worse consequences come from defiance.

Damian's perspective:

Given his age and lack of experience, Damian clearly doesn't understand what's going on around him. At the end, he asks Jeeves what his father meant by worthwhile. In the Japanese version, he asks it in the hiragana (?) Way aka the more simplified version of Japanese written language (man Google it fuck off). Again, he's too young to understand the words and approaches ir from a more juvenile angle.

This is how he will continue to process his interactions with his family. His scope is limited, and his adoration for his father will cloud his ability to understand his father's actions, automatically assigning bias to him. This will eventually cause him to resent and avoid his family. He won't see his mother as scared but simply cold, rejecting him for no clear reason. His brother is also cold but also gets the love and attention he craves from his father. Think about him not helping his brother with his homework (academics being the avenue to get his father's attention and validation), essentially blocking Damian from what he believes in the key to getting closer to his father, blocking him from having a relationship. A selfish way of safeguarding his position as the heir with no care for his brother.

In the end, Damian will resent his family for abandoning him. When he acknowledges that his father was, in fact, abusive (if he notices), he will further resent his family for not protecting him or helping. The difference between each form of abuse makes each member unaware of the violence the others are exposed to. This ensure they can never bond or team up against him, too busy competing with one another.

Unedited, early morning rant. You all be safe now. No photos either. You will sit here and read.

*breast milk is being discussed in a more metaphorical sense. Some of the points made lean heavily into natalism and bio essentialism (?). So, just for my sake, this is not a full reflection of my opinions on breastfeeding. It's a complicated social issue that's very integral in the oppression of women/mothers. It's a very nuanced issue, but for the sake of brevity, I looked at it from a more general and simplistic angle, focusing on what's relevant for the comparison. Obviously, Damian is 6, so this isn't an actual issue for him. Just a way to model the relationship b/w parent (primary care giver to be specific) and child. I don't even agree with some of the sentiments I shared lmao just take it with a grain of salt.

[hunters-vigil]

The Archon's Baby - Chapter 4 - Reunion

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

request from ao3: Make one where they have a child but the female character doesn't tell Mavuika that she is expecting a child and distances herself from Mavuika please 🙏🙏

warnings/mentions of: pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, talks about hypothetical major character death.

Fic under the cut, don't repost my stuff on other platforms, i have ao3. Reader is not the traveller. Reader's adoptive sisters are Chasca and Chuychu.

"Mavuika?" you whispered, hearing her hum, clinging to her clothes as you buried your face in her neck. A sob escaped your mouth before you stop it, your lover holding you a little tighter as her ears picked up on the noise.

"I'm here, my darling," your achon cooed, pressing her lips to the crown of your head as you held onto her desperately.

"I've missed you." The words wouldn't escape your mouth without some force, your emotions getting the better of you thanks to your hormones, but Mavuika didn't know that.

"I've missed you too," she whispered, gently pulling you back so she could look you in the eye, as tears streamed down your face, "I'm sorry I've been so busy that you felt like you couldn't approach me."

Your heart fluttered, closing your eyes to lean into her touch as she cupped your face, "the Pilgrimage and the Night Warden Wars are more important..." you began, but Mavuika didn't respond. "Natlan needs you." Burying your face back into her neck after your archon wiped away your tears.

"You needed me, and still need me." Mavuika argued, but she knew deep down that you were right. She was the Pyro Archon... Natlan's people are her priority, but that includes you.

She could remember when she first met you, approaching the Scions of the Canopy to look for information on her family. Ancient names may have documented those warriors, but many people didn't receive them, yet still should be remembered.

"If you're looking for history from 500 years ago... your best chance is Chasca and Chuychu's younger sister. A wingless, but the drive to dig up as much history as possible has found many tribes a lot that was thought to be lost." Your Uncle Wayna advised the Pyro Archon, who thanked him for his help.

"Any idea where she could be found? Chasca is a peacekeeper, and Chuychu is a doctor, but..."

"Despite the sisters arguing against it, she moved out into her own place, plus... she's better with an outlander wing glider than with a qucusaur." Wayna explained, letting out a sigh, "there were rumours of her not even being from Natlan, but... she doesn't remember anything from before she was found and taken in by Chuychu's parents."

"I see..."

Mavuika kept this in mind as she approached you, spotting the intrigue but also sadness in your eyes when you caught sight of her. It was like you saw right through her walls, helping all you could to dig up information on her parents and younger sister.

"I hate that you'll never truly get to live. You ended your life early 500 years ago to be here, and then you'll sacrifice yourself for Natlan again if you need to... you'll never get to grow old, find love, have children and watch them grow up... you're so selfless, Mavuika. Natlan would get to live, but you wouldn't. You're so determined to save Natlan, but you don't want anyone to try save you." you confessed after many nights helping Mavuika with her plans.

She hadn't wanted to let you in, you weren't a warrior, (despite the training she had heard about from your sisters) or an ancient name bearer... You'd figured out too much just from your research, putting together the pieces to realise her sacrifices. Past, and future.

Maybe it was a moment of weakness, a moment of selfishness, that first kiss, that first touch, but Mavuika couldn't resist. She held back, hesistating as you frowned, realising why she had stopped.

"It's okay. I want to, not because you're Haborym, or Kiongozi... but Mavuika, so please..." that was all it took for Mavuika's restraint to be gone, leaning in to finally let her lips meet yours.

She could never have thought that that moment would have led to this. You, exhausted, crying in her arms as she held you close, wishing she had more time with you than less than a year.

"Please, don't go. I just... need to feel you a little longer," you began to beg as she shifted slightly, pulling you on top of her, until a squeak of pain escaped your lips.

"Did I-"

"No, no. It wasn't you, I'm just..." you hesitated, realising that you hadn't told her, "tender. I'll be fine..."

"Tender?" Mavuika's voice laced with confusion, her hands lingering at the hem of your shirt. However, she decided against asking to remove the cloth, instead resting her hands on your waist after you settled your head on her chest. "Are you injured?"

"I'll be okay, I'm not hurt. But, can we stay like this, just a little longer? I know you're really busy but..." Mavuika shushed you, holding you closer, as hands lingered under your shirt, drawing patterns on your skin.

Meanwhile, one of your hands lingered close to your belly, trying to be surreptitious but it helped you to self-soothe. Your other hand was a lot less calm however, holding onto Mavuika for dear life, like she would slip away any moment.

"I'm not going just yet. Even Archons need to sleep, my love." Pressing her lips to the crown of your head, her hand shifted, moving to hover over the hand on your stomach, causing a question to flicker in her mind.

Did you go to Chuychu about your sickness? If you did, what did your sister have to say? You seemed better, but the exhaustion, and the look Atea had on her face when she turned up at the People of the Springs, having just witnessed you and Mualani just leave...

Unfortunately, Mavuika couldn't ask you about it, hearing your breathing even out as sleep got its hold of you once again. A quiet sigh escaped her lips, appreciating your warmth as she closed her eyes and let sleep consume her too.

[athina-blaine]

you can't carry it with you if you want to survive (Nimona 2023) Chapter 2

Summary:

With their Queen deceased, no heirs, their Director terminated, three-quarters of their holy protectors retired, and their walls gone, the kingdom had called upon the scion of Gloreth to lead the way.

-

“The Director lied to you, Ambrosius. She used you and she hurt you. None of that is your fault. Why can’t you see that?”

Ballister reached out his hand, freezing when Ambrosius recoiled.

“I guess I’m just not as forgiving as you are, Bal.”

Rating: Mature Relationships: Ballister Blackheart | Ballister Boldheart/Ambrosius Goldenloin, Ambrosius Goldenloin & Nimona Chapters: 2/4 Chapter Word Count: ~6.1k Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Anxiety, Guilt, Self-Neglect, Ergomania, Post-Canon, Established Relationship

Chapter 2

Remember your training. Remember who you are.

We are born to protect this kingdom.

Thankfully, we have a descendant of Gloreth to lead us.

Refilling his glass, Ambrosius reclined in his chair as far back as the wooden frame would allow, running a hand through mussed hair. The office’s temperature had grown intolerable after only a few sips of the dark liquid, and so the top buttons of his uniform lay undone, exposing his throat and sternum. A few more sips, and he imagined he’d be tempted to roll up his sleeves and kick his feet up on the desk, boots and all.

Just considering it sent a roguish thrill coursing through him. Even in solitude, Ambrosius seldom permitted himself to sink into such a state of dishevelment. Every morning he’d stick to his routine—hair styled, face done, freshly shaven—even on rare days when he'd had no obligations but to otherwise laze about his apartment.

Ballister had teased him for this. He’d needle Ambrosius time and again, asking why bother waking up so early to groom himself when Ambrosius had confessed he hated mornings. On one occasion, he even went as far as wrestling an amused Ambrosius back into bed, pleading with him to enjoy a few more hours of sleep for a change.

At the time, Ambrosius had conceded. They’d only been dating a few months at that point, and it had taken embarrassingly little persuasion to convince a smitten Ambrosius to forgo his usual routine and curl back under the cozy covers. The next morning, however, while Ballister still slept, he rose at his usual hour to start on his hair.

It’s just what Ambrosius did. He’d never given it much thought beyond that. He’d developed the habit as early as primary school, recalling with fond warmth the mornings his mother would let him play at her vanity, mimicking her and her serene elegance. Ambrosius had been quick to fall into a morning routine of his own, smoothing out blemishes and tending to his brightened hair.

After all, even as a child, he’d understood the importance of maintaining appearances, even if—

Is something on your mind, Ambrosius?

… I’m fine, Director.

—even if, internally, he felt like his entire world was falling apart.

[Continue on AO3]

[Chapter 1]

[blessedtoaster666]

WITCH WEEKLY - Issue 94 - December 2006

Editor’s Note:

Gentlebeings of the Wizarding World,

Our cover feature this issue is the one, the only Draco Malfoy- a man who needs no introduction, but whose presence might require the briefest of explanations.

Lord Malfoy has had no shortage of press over the years… but since his release from Azkaban we have dutifully kept an eye on him, and for sore ones he is a sight. Every time we feature him, the owls pour in. Some carry missives with love potion-laced ink, in the hopes that we’ll pass them to the man in question (no judgement, we’ve tried to slip him a little something in the past) while others are Howlers bursting to scream about our hideous facilitation of lusting after a war criminal. How dare you drool over a terrorist! But drool we do, like a three-headed dog.

It’s one of our favorite things about Draco Malfoy: those who love him, would die for him… and those who hate him, would like to see him killed. We fall into the camp of the former- do you?

Read on for 10 of our other favorite things -

Venia Plumberton, Editor-in-Chief

BEST OF Draco Malfoy

We surveyed our editorial staff, as well as witches and wizards on the street (Horizont Alley, to be exact) to determine the 10 best features of the wizard we love to hate, but don’t hate to love. Caution… at least three witches went feral after editing this piece. You’ve been warned.

#1 - CHEST - We don’t know if it’s that he’s vaguely the color of honed marble, or that we had too many brushes with the fit statues at Hogwarts during our formative years… but oh, Mummy. We don’t get to see shirtless Draco often- perhaps he’s self-conscious of the scars? Are they from the whip of a lover… or perhaps the Dark Lord?

Our seven-page coverage of his trip to Bali last year, “Draco’s Treasure Chest” July 2005, contributed to our best selling issue. EVER. We are certain our journalistic prowess has not gotten that much better. When it comes to Draco, we’re delusional, not deluded.

#2 - EYES - Pureblood politics like to keep things in the family; but if inbreeding is wrong do we want to be right? Like pools of mercury, Draco’s eyes look terribly inviting but might just kill us if we take a dip. We have on record that his nickname in school was, “The Heir of Slytherin”. Basilisk, much? We’ve heard stranger. Speaking of basilisks… this magazine doesn’t stoop to such levels… but we know where your head’s at.*

*Right next to ours, in the gutter. But at least we’re looking at the stars… specifically, the Draco constellation.

#3 - HAIR - We here at WW celebrate a man who takes the time to learn grooming spells, and we dare say the Malfoy Scion created a few of his own to tame his mane just the way we like it. Tousled, pushed back, glittering platinum everywhere the light touches it. Oh, to run a hand through that hair. Maybe pull it, just a little. Ruin our life, Draco. We are at the ready.

#4 - SIZE - When the DM walks in the room, suddenly, we orbit around him. Is it because of his white golden hair (see above) or is it perhaps that he’s the size of a planet? The Muggles have really gotten into something called gravity, look into it friends - because Draco is our sun. 6’5”, the wing span of a bloody hippogriff and the legs (oh we’ll get started with those next) of a semi-giant.

#5 - THIGHS - We could be pressed to include the whole leg, look at those calves, but in the interest of being specific- Draco Malfoy’s thighs get us through our work day.

Thick as tree trunks, we’d surrender our wand to be a part of that forest.

We spoke to Madame Mirabelle, tailor to rich and infamous, and she assured us that while she hasn’t fit Draco in years, she knows for a fact he has a tailor on staff to “rightly pinch and pin” every set of trousers he wears. One must not assume that anything off-the-rack could surround such thighs, wrap that arse, cover that bulge and hug that waist without being magically pinched and pinned. We’re due for a sewing spell seminar, it would seem.

#6 - ABS - Speaking of waists… Well. We shan’t. We’ll just show a picture, it scores a V, for va va voom.

#7 - FOREARMS - Again, we feel remiss not mention the scrumptious biceps, the scandalously sexy shoulders… but let it be known, Draco’s forearm game is unmatched. Maybe it’s the veins; maybe it’s the sheer size of them. Maybe it’s the Dark Mark- you know we need to be reminded about the danger lurking underneath. Or maybe… we are ovulating? No matter. We’d let him cast any spell he wanted at us so long as he used those arms to hold his wand.

#8 - SNEER - A snide look, on the face of Draco Malfoy, is better than a smile on any other man… We’re sure should Draco ever smile our way, he’d be crowned ‘Most Charming Smile’ in an instant… but to that end, we’ve never seen it. We’re not sure he’s capable. So we covet the sneer.

Eyes narrowed, nose flared, lip curled? Check, checkity, check. Sign us up for the next war!

#9 - JAWLINE - We long to go to a taffy emporium with Draco and watch him sample the wares… such is our obsession with seeing him clench. For Merlin’s sake, someone get the man some gum! We deserve such visions, we’ve been so good.

#10 - HANDS - Hands tell the story of the man- and here’s what we know… Draco’s hands can palm a quaffle and are typically adorned with family heirloom rings. He likes a Muggle watch, and doesn’t always need a wand. An eyewitness told us she saw him stop a falling bottle at his bar, The Jobberknoll, with just a flick of his fingers, as he dined with friends. We love a wizard who takes matters into his own hands.

[genshin-impact-updates]

Version 5.0 Quest Notices Compilation

After the Version 5.0 update, Archon Quests Chapter V: Act I and Act II will be permanently available. Meet the unlock criteria or use the "Quick Start" function via the event page to unlock said Archon Quests.

Complete the corresponding Archon Quest within the specified duration to obtain an additional reward of Primogems ×500.

〓Specified Duration〓

After the Version 5.0 update – 2024/10/08 14:59

〓Quick Start Criteria〓

Adventure Rank 28 or above

Complete Archon Quest Chapter I: Act III "A New Star Approaches"

〓Archon Quest Unlock Criteria〓

Adventure Rank 40 or above

Complete Archon Quest Chapter IV: Act VI "Bedtime Story"

Travelers who reach the required Adventure Rank and complete the prerequisite quests will be able to unlock "Tribal Chronicles: People of the Springs."

Complete the Tribal Chronicles within the specified duration to obtain additional Primogems, Character Ascension Materials, Character Level-Up Materials, Natlan regional specialties, and other rewards.

〓Quest Start Time〓

After the Version 5.0 update

〓Specified Duration〓

After the Version 5.0 update – 2024/09/17 17:59

〓Quest Unlock Criteria〓

Act I and Act II:

Adventure Rank 40 or above

Complete "Pilgrimage of the Return of the Sacred Flame" in the Archon Quest "Flowers Resplendent on the Sun-Scorched Sojourn"

Act III:

Adventure Rank 40 or above

Complete "Into Eternal Night" in the Archon Quest "Black Stone Under a White Stone"

The three acts must be experienced in sequence. You can only unlock the next act after completing the previous one and meeting the corresponding unlock criteria.

※ In the current version, once you reach Adventure Rank 28 and complete Archon Quest Chapter I: Act III "A New Star Approaches," you can use the "Quick Start" function to unlock Archon Quest Chapter V: Act I "Flowers Resplendent on the Sun-Scorched Sojourn."

Travelers who reach the required Adventure Rank and complete the prerequisite quests will be able to unlock "Tribal Chronicles: Scions of the Canopy."

Complete the Tribal Chronicles within the specified duration to obtain additional Primogems, Character Ascension Materials, Character Level-Up Materials, Natlan regional specialties, and other rewards.

〓Quest Start Time〓

Act I and Act II: After the Version 5.0 update

Act III: 2024/09/17 18:00

〓Specified Duration〓

2024/09/17 18:00 – 2024/10/08 14:59

〓Quest Unlock Criteria〓

Adventure Rank 40 or above

Complete "Pilgrimage of the Return of the Sacred Flame" in the Archon Quest "Flowers Resplendent on the Sun-Scorched Sojourn"

The three acts must be experienced in sequence. You can only unlock the next act after completing the previous one and meeting the corresponding unlock criteria.

※ In the current version, once you reach Adventure Rank 28 and complete Archon Quest Chapter I: Act III "A New Star Approaches," you can use the "Quick Start" function to unlock Archon Quest Chapter V: Act I "Flowers Resplendent on the Sun-Scorched Sojourn."

[patroxlos]

home base . ch3

"friends who believe in mpreg" - 2.7k words

ultraman: rising (2024). kenji sato x reader

master post. ao3 link.

previous: ch2. "friends who reconnected and who certainly don't want to be more"

next: ch4. "friends who sleep on call with each other"

Kenji endures an awkward interview with sports journalist Ami Wakita.

And is it monsterfucking if you're kind of into Ultraman?

A/N: So my dad accidentally bought me a coffee float instead of the coke float I asked him to get me. I ended up caffeinated at 11PM and began writing this in jitters. it's nearly 3AM. This is unedited and unfiltered which means: my writing is gonna be so unserious you will sit there and ask yourself "Is this writer different from the one who made the last two chapters?"

Hoping you can keep up with all my pop culture references. Motsubishi is such a silly little name. I was workshopping other company names like "Soni," "Yomaha," etc. but Motsubishi is giving Mob Psycho 100 brand parody.

Also, I refer to Ami as 'Ms. Wakita' connotes that she and Ken are still not that close, but as you would be able to tell while reading, they are begrudgingly becoming fast friends.

---

“Absolutely not.” Ken denies it immediately, with a slight aggression. “There’s no lovechild to speak of. We are just friends.”

Ami Wakita flinches a bit at his tone. “Woah, they weren’t kidding when they said you’re a bit defensive about her.”

“Who’s they?” He huffs, taking a bite from a strip of tonkatsu to calm down. He was glad that it is just him and Ms. Wakita in the restaurant at the moment. He would not want anyone to overhear their conversation about you. 

“Your friendship with the Motsubishi scion has been well-documented since the start of your professional career. Rumors about your couplings have been circling since before,” Ms. Wakita points out.

“No comment.” His media training kicks in with his mouth full.

She rubs her temple a bit. “What did I say about you showing a little vulnerability?”

“I didn’t even say anything about my dad before you psychoanalyzed me!”

“Well was I wrong?”

Damn, she’s good. “...I thought you were a sports reporter.”

“Reporting on the players’ personal lives is a big part of it,” she coolly responds. “You should read my articles on Ohtani’s translator embezzling his funds, or the Yuki Tsunoda puppy interview I produced.”

“This isn’t about puppies though…” His shoulders are tense. “She’s just been my friend for as long as I can remember. Her family has always been good to my family– especially to my mom–and I know how much they value privacy. She is at a really crucial point of her career working to inherit one of the biggest conglomerates of the world. She and I definitely wouldn’t risk a secret pregnancy.”

He is impassioned when it comes to you.

“Woah…Can I quote that?” Ms. Wakita glanced down at her phone recording their conversation.

He deflates. “Yeah yeah sure whatever. You’re right, this isn’t the first time someone has made up stuff about us. Lovechild is new though. The last time it was an arranged marriage.”

“If it helps, online reaction has always been generally positive at the idea of you two coupling up,” she tries to be helpful. “Both of you are celebrities in your own right. You’re both young, wealthy and attractive. It fulfills a lot of people’s fantasies. The engagement rumors came about only because you two have been publicly attached to each other for so long.”

It does help. A bit too much. His heart picks up. Of course Ken has read all the comments whenever those articles came out over the years. You visit him in L.A. whenever you could, and those visits helped a lot with maintaining your friendship. There are multiple photos of you attending his career-defining games wearing his baseball jersey— the oversized look making you seem like his perfect WAG sitting beside his mom.

Ms. Wakita reads this on his face, clear as day. She figures that he is telling the truth about you and him never ever being romantically involved, but there seems to be something additional brewing on the surface. Putting on an unassuming tone, she asks “So I guess that’s it? You both can’t imagine being involved?”

He leans back on his seat, confidently answering “Yes, we both think it won’t work out long term—”

He proceeds to unlean as the realization causes him to hunch over. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuckity fuck. She really can get the devil to confess his sins.

She tries not to look too thrilled about his slip up, which he can commend her for.

“W-What I mean is that neither her nor me— it’s not happening. It never happened,” he stammers. He needs a new media trainer.

“I’m sure you recall that there have been photos—”

“Of her at my games? Of course she was, haha!” He did NOT need her to mention their other photos right now.

Please don’t.

Please don’t. Please… He is supposed to be moving on. Which he has!

“—that pop up over the years of you two being overly familiar.” She finishes.

God kill him. “All alleged. They’re too blurry to be sure it is us.”

“...Some looked like pro shots to me.”

Ken nearly slams his face on his tonkatsu.

“The one where you’re both getting smoothies at Erewhon was cute?” She sounds honest, and she is. She isn’t even going to report on this. It is already evident that the gossip is a sham, but she cannot help but want to tease the baseball player a bit, now that they are sort of becoming acquainted.

He sighs. “Thanks. It was the Ken Sato wheatgrass and bone broth blend. She didn’t like it.”

He remembers that day. You made a face when he tried to get you to take a little sip, so he blew some raspberries against your cheek and maaaybe just a little on your neck as you both stood in the parking lot; you were shrieking for him to stop as his smoothie-covered lips smothered your skin. All friendly, of course.

“Where did the lovechild thing even come from?” Ken thinks aloud. “She looks too great to be pregnant.”

Ms. Wakita, known single mother, asks “...Do women not look great pregnant?”

“Oh you know what I meant,” He snaps as she covers her mouth with a napkin to laugh.

She stops the recording on her phone to slide him the online tabloid article. Allegedly, he and you fought about him being an absent father at the restaurant last night as you have endured your pregnancy all alone. The story ends with a sweet coupling at the parking lot before you left on separate vehicles, a marker that neither of you planned to get married, or a possible abortion in the near future. What. 

“You have a thing for parking lots?” She tries to joke.

His eyes nearly bulge at one line. “‘ The Motsubishi scion ate for two as she devoured a Yakisoba platter all alone—’ It was a decently sized portion for a reasonable price! And I definitely am not an absent father!” He says the last bit with a bit too much vigor.

“I didn’t write it,” She tries to keep his emotions in check. “...I did nearly believe it for a moment though when you called me last night. Was it an hour or two after you met up with her at the yakisoba place?”

He admits that if he was in Ms. Wakita’s place, he would’ve also thought he was secretly raising a child. He wonders whether the Baby is awake right now, terrorizing Mina. “Totally unrelated events.”

“And the apparent baby book purchases in your credit histo— how did a gossip mag get that information?” She marvels as she scrolls through her phone.

He doesn’t know what’s worse: the world finding out that he is raising a giant baby lizard in his basement or people thinking that he’s an absentee like his own dad.

A red blinking light catches Ms. Wakita’s eye. “Are…you gonna get that?”

Not hearing her at first, he runs a hand through his face. God he really did not want to imagine your reaction to this news article. He promised you that it would not be weird. The past is past. If your friendship is already in danger, this might ruin things even further. Oh he can already hear the alarm bells ringing in his head—

Or from his watch?!

“Hey, you don’t have a kid growing in you right now, do you?” Your assistant asks you as she glances at your stomach.

You were both in one of your sleek city limousines on the way to a late evening banquet, where you are due to give a speech. The traffic jam in front of you stretches a kilometer. You follow her gaze. “I thought this suit was slimming.”

She passes you her phone. Huh. ‘Motsubishi Scion Gets Impregnated by Famous Baseball Star.’  You pass the phone back to her. “I don’t want to see the kind of porn you’re looking at.”

“Young Master, it’s an article about you and Ken Sato.” Your assistant was not in the mood for your jokes right now.

You just shrug, taking your phone out to send a few quick texts to Ken. You are sure he probably heard the news by now, and he will definitely agree with you that it is as hilarious as it is ridiculous. “It’ll blow over.”

As you look back out of your window, you’ve already forgotten about it. Seems like a slow day for the newsroom.

At the horizon, you see a PacMan proudly sticking out from the top of a building get knocked down by some beam of light. You yawn and stretch back out on your seat. “Can we go any faster? I want to get this banquet over with.”

Your driver sighs. “This new kaiju attack is impossible ma’am. Apparently, it is just running around without any clear direction.”

“Well I don’t think a monster would have access to KoogleMaps,” you reply wryly.

It was going to be a long night. You begin to settle in for a nap while people are exiting their cars and running out into the streets. Their screams of terror sound muffled inside your bullet-proof vehicle.

“Should we get out too?” Your assistant nervously asks.

You lift up your foot and rest it on your knee. “I’m wearing So Kates. I don’t think I can run either way.”

As you say that, your security detail at the front of the limo begins getting out. Ugh, Tokyo is the worst… You need to fly out soon. He opens your car door and extends a hand out. “Let me carry you, Young Master. Better to evacuate now.”

“Must I?” You groan in frustration.

“We can skip the banquet and take you home,” he compromises. Begrudgingly, you step out of the vehicle just in time for the pinkest…chicken lizard to pop up at the corner of the street.

Immediately, you are swept off your feet as your security detail rushes to escort you and your assistant away from that thing as fast as possible, the wind is knocked out of your lungs. You peek over the shoulder of your bodyguard for a better glimpse at the chirping beast.

You lock eyes with it.

Big mistake.

Because why the hell did it flitter with excitement and began chasing you?!

It keeps chirping, and… burping?... as it hobbles and stomps over cars. Your jaw drops as your limo is flattened like nothing. And for some strange reason, the monster’s eyes are solely trained on you.

Did I do something to piss it off? You ask yourself as it gets closer. You know you can be a bitch but you would remember if you told it to fuck off. No, this monster is chasing after you like it knew you. There was no aggression in its oddly proportioned body, like you are being chased by that grotesque baby in the Tin Toy Pixar short. There is no moral compass behind those beady little eyes, just the pure pleasure-seeking nature of baby hedonism.

It gets closer, and your bodyguard’s legs can only run for so long. He screams bloody murder as he feels himself get picked up, you along with him, by the beast. You hear another scream that sounds like your own voice as you feel yourself get ripped from your bodyguard’s grasp. The monster puts him back down on the street, his landing relatively gentle.

You are being shaken like a rattle now in its claws, its gurgling filling your ears. “Oh my god.” You feel yourself getting sick from the nausea. You never thought you were going to die like this. Your legs flail in the air helplessly but your So Kates stay on, pinching your toes like you are about to give them the best shoe advertisement Louboutin can ask for, with how it feels glued to your feet.

The ground rumbles as if a giant springs through the streets. Your life does not flash before your eyes, but you can hear it in your ears— a very clear ring of Ken shouting “Baby! Put down the human!”

…

Huh?

You felt your body decompress as the monster’s grip loosened. Air returns back into your lungs, but you don’t find yourself returned to the ground.

Instead, you are being lifted up way higher into the sky as you lay on the palm of Tokyo’s hero: Ultraman.

You hiss as your eyes burn from the blinding lights of Ultraman’s unblinking lenses. “Are you okay—?” He says your name with a rising panic. You can swear you saw his chest light threaten you change colors. He is cradling you against it.

You did not know Ultraman can be this friendly with Tokyoites. You struggle to regain your ability to speak, a bit confused and frazzled from everything that just happened in the past minute.

The hero takes this as a bad sign. “Oh god you’re hurt.” There is an ache in his words that shakes up your own core. No one has ever sounded this worried for you.

Man is he bright . You try to shield your eyes from his light. You are brought up close to his face as he inspects your body. “I– I’m fine,” You manage to rasp out. You are initially not sure he heard you, but the evident sag of his colossal, broad shoulders affirms that he did.

You have never gotten to observe the hero this up close. Despite the unemoting face, you find his body to be an open book as it trembles with the fear of losing you. Even if he must be like this with every other citizen in need of saving, you cannot help but feel a little special.

“I was so worried— wait here for help.” He lowers you on top of a roof building, his fingers shaky, worrying about dropping you. You shakily slide off his palm, patting down your suit. You stumble a little on your stilettos, and instantly his massive hands crowd you once more to hold you up. " Please be careful."

“Ultraman!” You shout as you push away his fingers. “I’m okay, thank you!” You point towards the Tokyo Tower, where the baby-like kaiju was already climbing up. “You gotta deal with that first! Leave me, I’ll be alright."

“Huh? Oh, yeah, god… ” The hero curses, getting ready to sprint towards the tower. “Be a good girl and stay put, yeah?” He says to you before running off.

Your feet wobble on your heels as you nearly keel over from the adrenaline coursing through your body. That… you are never leaving the house again during a kaiju attack. Though… you watch as the slim figure of Ultraman begin to climb the tower after the kaiju. Maybe it won’t be that bad next time.

Later that evening in the Ultrabase, Ken excuses himself from the company of his father, Mina and the baby as he heads towards the bathroom for a long-awaited shower. His muscles ache with every step, and he is tempted to pass out on the cold floor— wouldn’t be the first time since getting this newfound responsibilities.

This is getting too overwhelming. He still cannot believe he felt so cornered against the wall that he had to call his dad for help like some kid. If only you saw him now. You were oddly closer to his dad than he was.

Oh shit, you.

You, who he left stranded on some random building.

He quickly fumbles for his phone, eager to call you to see if you’re alright.

Shit , he feels some tears of frustration welling up in his eyes. He is fucking everything up. He is a bad son, a bad father, a bad friend.

Ken opens his messaging app, and he first sees the texts that you sent earlier in the evening.

…

[YOU]

Hey bbgirl.

You pregnat? Pragnent?

My mom is gonna hand you a stack of 20M yen just to stay away from me. Are u g to take it so we can split it after? LOL

Not rlly in the mood to be ur baby daddy atm. get a DNA test before i send child support.

SENT LINK: Motsubishi Scion Gets Impregnated by Famous Baseball Star.

Bc if one of us left that restaurant pregnant it definitely would not be me

A/N: Ultraman fine as hell have you seen his waist?

This chapter was supposed to go A LOT differently from how it ended up being. It was initially supposed to be an extended conversation between you and your assistant about your past...whatever you had...with Kenji during your visits to L.A. But I actually really like writing Ken POV because him and I are pretty similar?

[driftward]

FFXIV Write 2024 Master Post

I wrote some words. Got a prompt in for every day, plus a bonus one that wouldn't leave me alone.

Steer: Is reality destiny?

Horizon: What lies beyond the future curves

Tempest: A short poem for Susano

Reticent: The annual reminder that Nyx Blackmoon is a walking war crime

Stamp: Desertwalkers AU. Reinhardt sure is having a day.

Halcyon: Karasawa Atraxae suspects she remembers Amaurot rather better than Emet-Selch

Morsel: Yotsuyu has a hunger she wishes to satisfy

Free Day 1 - Glasses: It always comes back to an artifact from a shared childhood moment...

Lend an Ear: Desertwalkers AU. The naturalist and the seer encounter each other for the first time. This will be a thread I come back to several times during this Write event

Stable: Dominants AU. Ozma has some problems

Surrogate: Aymeric leans on the Scions as babysitters

Quarry: Desertwalkers AU. Zoissette and Lavender get in some trouble

Butte: Desertwalkers AU. A continuation of the naturalist and seer thread. Thancred's been keeping an eye on things.

Telling: Desertwalkers AU. Chapter three of the naturalist and seer thread. The naturalist interrupts the seer's business

Free Day 2 - Contest: Zoissette fights for a reward from her beloved

Third Rate: Desertwalkers AU. Zoissette and Lavender get in more trouble

Sally: More of the naturalist and seer thread. Urianger calls out the seer on her blind spots

Hackneyed: Everyone's a critic, but especially Emet-Selch

Taken: What Zoissette takes with her, what she leaves behind

Duel: Desertwalkers AU. Lyse and Livia fight for a train on top of a train

Shade: Desertwalkers AU. Lavender has a way with new people

Free Day 3 - Caretaker: Y'shtola tends to Zoissette in the time after Ultima Thule

On Cloud Nine: Aetherwave AU. Riot has opinions about this gilded garden

Bar: Tony Hawk is not in this fic Bar (Another Take): Aymeric and Zoissette talk about Zoissette's new relationship

Perpetuity: Nyx watches on the journey to forever

Zip: Multiverse shenanigans. I will finish this one one day

Memory: Krile and Zoissette talk about the nature of people

Deleterious: Desertwalkers AU. The seer catches up to the naturalists' thread

Free Day 4 - Coda: Desertwalkers AU. And the thread with the naturalist and the seer comes full circle

Two Heads are Better Than One: Thancred is very punny.

And that is a wrap for this year, I hope to see everyone next year! I have enjoyed a great many of your stories.

[idalenn]

Day 1 - Steer

Aftermath of the Crystal Tower. Alphinaud learns from a true businessman. (A Realm Reborn)

Full text below the cut if you'd rather read it on Tumblr instead of Ao3.

“And of the boy – were you successful locating his next of kin?”

“The documents provided by NOAH were bereft of evidence related to his origins. Unofficially, we’ve heard claims he may have familial ties within the Corvosi of southeastern Ilsabard.” The Elezen woman tapped a quill to the open, hide-backed volume in her hands. “But we are unable to confirm their validity at this time. It remains hearsay.”

“Then our efforts must be concentrated in a more scholarly direction. We cannot simply shrug our shoulders when it comes to Sharlayan. Having the loss of their pupil go unrecognized, or worse – underappreciated – will impact future endeavors. Reparations will soften the blow and secure fertile grounds for tilling.” With his own writing tool, edges leafed in gold and tipped with a brilliant ruby, Lolorito scratched his final signature onto the treaty.

A click of the inlaid jewel sent the tool’s end retreating into itself. Black ink dripped from the hole; blood from an open wound. One quick swipe with cloth made of finer material than Lillian would ever own picked it up without a trace left behind. Lolorito curtly tossed the cloth back among the ink pots. “A veritable drop in the ocean of spoils we’ve earned this day, wouldn’t you agree?”

Lillian felt a veritable ocean of sweat growing in her boots. Devoid of windows or any sort of opening to the outside save the single door combined with an abundance of crystal-lit lanterns, the Monetarist’s chamber buffered her and Alphinaud with a furnace’s heat. Even wearing gloves she feared taking the document in hand and drenching their hard work. The scars across her face ached under the pressure.

“Adamantite. Allagan technology. Wisdom beyond measure and reach, and beyond price some might claim, but there will be a price, and as sole owner of that crystal tower, the price shall be any figure negotiable.” The Lalafell chuckled to himself as he sealed the treaty with wax and sigil before sliding it across the desk. “And this is just the beginning. I know our contract was only for the tower’s acquisition, but I have grand plans in motion for future expansion, and you’re just the two to help see them bear fruit.” He spread his arms wide as though welcoming them into his embrace. “Care to stay for a time?”

Another cramp ran through Lillian’s leg. The chairs they sat in were perfectly Lalafell sized, undoubtedly Lolorito’s primary audience, but less so for the snow-haired Elezen child across from him, and unbearably small for the Miqo’te dwarfing every other soul in the room, whose legs were forcibly kept at such an angle between chair and desk that, if this meeting continued much longer, were liable to fall off.

“Other business calls.” She said.

“Of course. Scions and governments running you ragged must come first, but forget not my offer. And you, Master Alphinaud? From your quiet I must believe in some thought being given.”

Alphinaud took the treaty in a shaking hand. “Your assistance to the Crystal Braves is greatly appreciated, Lord Lolorito. If I may, I have but one more question, and after we’ll be on our way.”

“Then I take it you need time to consider.” Lolortio stroked his goatee, smiling with brilliant white teeth. The mask made interpreting his expression impossible. To Lillian it appeared a predator’s grin. “Very well. The floor is yours, my boy.”

“Care to share the details on how you intend to move forward? Specifically, I wish to know how you will honor the loss of G’raha Tia, without whom this endeavor would have ended in failure.” The Elezen aide narrowed her eyes. Lolorito’s smile never dropped an ilm.

“For effort contributed, I suppose you can be trusted with particulars. I am nothing if not fair, as Nald’Thal demands.” One of the lanterns flickered, and a glint off a gold-plated scale on the Lalafell’s desk caught Lillian’s attention. “G’raha Tia has no will, no family of note who can be contacted or given payment, and represents no organization outside of one within Sharlayan. Any and all possessions within NOAH’s hands will be returned to that organization. His share will, of course, be divided amongst all hired.

“Sharlayan will receive a lump sum of gil in an amount yet to be determined but no less than two hundred thousand. That previously mentioned organization will also partake of a sizable donation. Ah, but this name eludes me.” He snapped his fingers rapidly as if trying to light a spark. “I’m sure it began with ‘students’ something or other… the students of…”

“Baldesion.” Alphinaud finished through gritted teeth.

“It is refreshing, Master Alphinaud, to meet another so untrained in subtleties and be reminded I am not so alone in this world. As someone eyeing to hold a position of political power in our realm, you would do well to either hone a silver tongue or abandon all pretense of furthering your cause with it.”

“You only saw our friend as numbers to be counted!”

“Absolutely! Much in the same way you yourself only see the Syndicate in measures of usefulness and value to your coffers. Life is a series of numbers! You sought profits as well as I, my boy, and in doing so one must on occasion plan for declines. All gathered in this room have value, and all will be made equal should misfortune come to pass.”

Lolorito leaned forward over the desk, his hands folded together in a wall from which atop he stood a giant before Alphinaud and the Warrior of Light. “You captain an uncertain ship, Master Alphinaud, and unless you wish your company dashed amongst the rocks, you had best learn to steer.”

[acourtofquestions]

Empire of Storms Part 1 thoughts, theories & a VERY VERY long post of rambling:

(+ this title as a spoiler warning; heads up to my fellow fans & first time readers (esp. those semi-tagged in this post), I address a lot of Part 1 & possibly up to Chapter 52 of EoS;-) I am ALSO on my first read just finishing said 52 so no spoilers for me past that as I go through Fireheart as well plz, & thx!

I will also be posting a far shorter better edited version of this post next :-)

Oh good gods this book is going to destroy me in the best way possible😅😅🤦‍♀️😭😁😬😆🤣🙃❤️‍🔥🖤🫶

Long writing/reading (I HAVE LOTS OF THOUGHTS & FEELINGS & NEED TO SCREAM IN WIVERN FANGIRL NONSENSE! So, this post will probably jump around quite a bit between chapters, thoughts, theories, reactions, & randomness; read/skim at your own rambling risk😅 also in advance for missed autocorrects I TRIED😂) “round up” for Part 1 of EoS. & yes I have been reading a LOT (whilst VERY busy😂😭), so this blog’s posts are in desperate need of a catch up & will probably only grow more hectic as alas, my library & brain demand to know what happens next NOW😂. You have been warned this post & blog is about to be more incoherent than usual! — And as I said this post is LONG (If your thinking I’m kidding; legit I think this is 20 something pages long; consider it here for historical purposes… & I had a VERY long drive with no books😂)

— NOW —

The organization of parts is interesting, we go from Nightfall, to The Fire-Bringer, to Fireheart. It feels like a full circle from night to day; from learning to being, and showing Aelin’s claim (not from Elena, not from her powers, but from her). The heart of Terrasen, the fire for the world (esp. against the Valg). … It’s also scaring the heck out of me with her self-sacrificial tendencies & the VERY intense vibe (from the first few chapters this story advances into a “final chapter vibe” yet it’s only the first few; it’s reminding me of Deathly Hallows almost? — which is esp. confusing CAUSE I STILL HAVE 3 BOOKS LEFT… and we’re already this intense😬😅soooo MAAS PLEASE DON’T YOUR DARE HURT A HAIR ON ANY OF THEM!!) P.S. for this note; it’s also making my shipping fuel go from 180 to infinity cause she’s his Fireheart🥹 (If only “worried over liking the ship” HoF first read me could see me now😂 @ goddess-aelin 🫶YOU WERE SO RIGHT👏). And generally it’s just been cool to see how the entire story & series has shifted so much (yet kept its heart ;-) !

So, Generally speaking: I’ve loved the first half of Nightfall & The Fire-Bringer (As I’ve loved the series). From the pace & many perspectives, to the plot twists & Easter egg style hints, and the writing with straight-up foreshadowing & full-circle series arcs (many of which have had big moments interwoven & reaching peak within this book). There has been some great character development (many beautiful lines/moments) a lot of raw emotion (crying, laughing, and all of the above), & entertaining interactions as my favorite piece of this book has been all these stories finally crossing paths (& within that developing relationships, friendships, families, courts, enemies, allies, etc.) for the “New World” that’s coming.

Nightfall:

“Elena sent up a final prayer on a pillar of smoke rising from the valley floor that the unborn, faraway scions of this night, heirs to a burden that would doom or save Erilea, would forgive her for what she was about to do.”

Elena I don’t know if I can forgive you for what you’re about to do😅😅 the plan here is long coming, as Lysandras “theory” further confirms:

"The more it seems like this was all planned, laid out long ago. Erawan had decades before Aelin was born to strike decades during which no one with her powers, or Dorian's powers, existed to challenge him. Yet, as fate or fortune would have it, he moves now. At a time when a Fire-Bringer walks the earth." It was all horrifying, impossible, but—so much of their lives defied logic or normalcy. The shifter next to him proved that. "Morath is unleashing its horrors," Lysandra said. "Maeve stirs across the sea. Two goddesses walk hand in hand with Aelin. More than that, Mala and Deanna have watched over her the entirety of her life. But perhaps it wasn't watching. Perhaps it was ... shaping. So they might one day unleash her, too. And I wonder if the gods have weighed the costs of that storm. And deemed the casualties worth it."

& previous lines on “all the players in the unfinished game” (I’m getting S&B Ruin & Rising vibes (for those of you Grishaverse fans; which btw one of these days I need a whole post about parallels & these two series, cause just the stag and lord of the north alone. I AM INTRIGUED & do love both fandoms ;-) + I think the crows would fit so well & it would be wonderfully & utterly chaotic🤣).

So, my general concern is this theory & warning everyone keeps giving Aelin about “the price”; from Rolfe’s tattoo map & warning question: “"That was the price of my power. What shall yours be, Aelin Galathynius?" She didn't reply to him before storming out. Though Deanna's voice had echoed in her mind. The Queen Who Was Promised.” To clever Elide’s question: “Was that the price for the humans they'd once been-magic that was somehow immune to what flowed naturally in this world? Or had the choice been taken from them, as surely as their souls had been stolen, too?” to crucial warnings like Brannon: “We burn not just within our magic, but also in our very souls. For better or worse.” & the danger continuing to grow like that of the FULL Deanna scene:

“And she said to him, in a voice that was deep and hollow, young and old, "Every key has a lock. Tell the Queen Who Was Promised to retrieve it soon, for all the allies in the world shall make no difference if she does not wield the Lock, if she does not put those keys back with it. Tell her flame and iron, together bound.”

She is the one, she has to get the lock, and she will have to pay the price for both (her ancestors & the darkness created in centuries of Erawan); one that will be heavy (one Elena failed to do; and I somewhat worry is because while she did sacrifice herself, her friends, her people, her kingdom, even letting Brannon fall to ruin (Brannon; the only one who ever successfully sealed it, because he sacrificed her mother, his love, “My mother died to forge that Lock!”) she did not let Gavriel “that which she most loved” fall; she tried to do it alone & was left with no option but to leave it to someone else; another era, another heir); now Aelin carries every thread, plot, battle aligning; the power she wields & sheer force of it, the weight of her crown & every choice it comes with, the price it will demand (the one she has spent a lifetime running from; “my crown is just another set of shackles”; the one Mala may have been shaping her to be able to make even through experiencing tragedy & turbulence in decisions over & over again). The warning in every choice; including the person she loves most (Rowan’s fear of “The people you love are just weapons used against you.”) “This thing between them, the force of it, could devour the world.” Her terror in that; struggling to allow them to go for the front lines while she survives, no longer alone & no longer able to take it all on, but struggling to let them in on the “master plan”. Struggling because even as she does, it weighs on them too: “Aelin was trembling, a hand on her friend-face so white and drawn that any harsh words he'd reserved for her were unnecessary. His queen knew the cost. It had taken her so damn long to trust any of them to do anything. If Aedion roared at her now, even if he still yearned to ... Aelin might never delegate again. Because if Lysandra hadn't been in the water when things had gone so, so badly…” And they do see it; the on-growing burden on Aelin’s shoulders & how she’s carrying the weight of it; both as a queen (despite her current lack of crown) another long-coming plot; as spoken by Chaol: “There she was, that queen looking out at him, a hint of the ruler she was becoming. And it knocked the breath out of him, because it made him feel so strangely young-when she now seemed so old.” And turning her desperate & weary; heavier slowly: “Since Rowan had gone, since word of Rifthold's fall had arrived, Aelin had been half present. Distant.” line after line “She'd grown quieter the farther north they'd traveled. Perhaps weeks on the road had sapped her.” They fear for her “And he wondered if Aelin was somehow watching the archipelago, and the seas, and the skies, as if she might never see them again.” for the price of such powers “We have yet to see the full extent of Erowan’s darkness. And I think we have yet to see the full extent of Aelin’s fire.” & They try to help “After tonight, depending on what the lords reported he'd try to find her a quiet place to rest for a day or two before they made the last leg of the trek to Orynth.” desperate to stop it “"She's not some unwitting pawn." He'd defy the gods, find a way to slaughter them, if they threatened Aelin, if they deemed these lands a worthy sacrifice to defeat the Dark King.” to protect her “Rowan at her right, Aedion at her left, Lysandra at her back; nothing and no one would get to their queen.” all the while they know they cannot as Rowan’s line painfully says: “This was war. These lands would endure far worse in the coming days and months. His queen, no matter how he tried to shield her, would endure far worse.” (Also the key word endure, frequently used for the “lost children of Terrasen” as I call their grouping). To even Aelin’s own words “She was a liar, and a murderer, and a thief, and Aelin had a feeling she'd be called much worse by the end of this war.”

This is where I fear Nightfall will come to rise in Fire-Heart:

I say all of this to say I get concerned when Maas feels the need to start a book with such warning; in both the price, and person paying it… Aelin is too much like Elena… Celaena has lost too much to lose anyone else (“And she would not add another name of her beloved dead to her flesh.” — “"We'll get her back, Aelin." "I can't bury another friend." "You won't."”)… and carrying it so heavily I worry she may overpay her share on their behalf’s. And between that & the many conflicting & star aligning forces of Rowaelin I worry the conflicts may grow; originally it was him not feeling “enough” for her because he’s a Prince not a King, he has no money no land no army (thankfully we are done with that piece because he can give her everything🥹 of his heart and that’s all she needs). We have the inevitable Maeve’s vendetta. We have my growing fear with the Carranam bond getting drained; like it almost did with Deanna. And the quotes all warning that their world may lead to another being destroyed, one or the other; “This thing between them, the force of it, could devour the world. And if they picked it, picked them, it might very well cause the end of it.”

… and though this isn’t due to Nightfall I am just concerned (I try to avoid spoilers (and continue to do so); but I already know it’s got a cliffhanger) and I have read enough Maas books (and just fandoms in general) to fear the 1-2 punch of “THEY’RE ALL GONNA DIE😱 — PSYCH😜 THEY ARE ALL FINE😅 — JUST KIDDING EVERYONE YOU LOVE IS DEAD!☠️” + the amount of possible brainwashing between Valg, Wyrdstones, and now gods… I’m just nervous (& still not 100% sure someone isn’t already secretly possessed).

MY DO NOT KILL LIST IS GETTING TOO LONG: From ASTERIN (scared me half to death SARAH) & Manon + 13 (obvi💁‍♀️), Abraxos & Fleetfoot & Evangeline (had to break my “no Google” rule to assure the latter twos safety *phew*), Aelin & Rowan (DON’T YOU EVEN DARE), Lysandra, Aedion, Dorian (HE’S BEEN THROUGH ENOUGH; STOP HURTING HIM), Elide (just let her be happy & home & make Marion proud dammit), Chaol (he’s not even here & I’m still a little mad BUT STILL) & Yrene (she hasn’t even fully come in yet & I don’t care I love her already) + Nesryn who babe, you know I love you, but I need more history & perspective to trust you fully (you seem cool, but I’m worried the lack of knowledge about you means your gonna lie or die, & it’s just too soon after Sorscha), Emrys (your safe in Mistward; STAY THERE), Sam (beloved, you’re still on this list; even though I know how it ended, & really do LOVE Rowaelin, I just still miss you; & want a Multiverse of happy endings for EVERYONE).

— HOWEVER —

I hope Fire-Heart will bring:

More Manorian; and let’s be honest ALL the ships (+ it could get realll literal with the set-up right now😂 the ships are LITERALLY sailing🤣) of course I CAN NEVER HAVE ENOUGH ROWAELIN (though Fire-Bringer was great 🥵 THEY FINALLY SAID I LOVE YOU🥹👏) & I am SO HERE FOR Lysandra & Aedion! … also what’s up with Elide & Lorcan? (Her last name + his first name TOO SIMILAR😂)

More interactions in general between all the characters from ships, to friendships, to even enemies (who often also become friends😂) honestly might be my fav part about this book so far; seeing it all line up & crossover; (from aforementioned Elide & Lorcan), (to previous & hopefully again soon) Manon & Aelin, the FULL team with THE THIRTEEN (Asterin & our crew would be absolute chaos & I would love every second of it), Sorrel too! AND VESTA! Petrah Blueblood (I find her VERY interesting as a character), Elide & the “lost children of Terrassen” finally meeting; maybe some more Ren & Bane updates (cause I wonder about them & what their up to) to Abraxos & Fleetfoot (PLEASE I NEED THIS… just don’t eat eachother😅😂) & yes I do STILL miss Evangeline & Fleetfoot; though I am happy they are safe; while the fire trick was cool it was SO not sustainable, & I do trust Murtaugh… and these full circles; Ansel’s (presumed) reintroduction & the TAB throw-backs/crossovers (plus NOW Crochans?). —

Exploring things of the sort; what is the other side of the “Crochan’s tale”, what is Elide’s true bloodline, how does the new Mala knowledge effect Aelin & Dorian?

Who are the Cadre (& learning more of their history; both with Aedion & Gavriel (that blood oath better not pass to children), Lorcan (Elide is already helping there thankfully) the other twin because I already stan Fenrys, and really Rowan because who are they really? Despite the “blood oath” reasoning they spent centuries together there has to be more to it). I want to get to know the twins & their whole Yin & Yang balance; also what is Fenrys power? (why does Rowan let him go after Aelin in the water instead, he must be pretty dang powerful & more so than Rowan to be her best option in his eyes)! What other histories does Rowan have (are the “witches” one of them)? What else is Maeve (I will never trust her) hiding?

Why is Erowan this way (who really killed Aelin’s parents)? Are we POSITIVE the Ilken aren’t the creatures Elide saw in the basement (wow that sounds extra ominous😂)?

Will Chaol show up (how is his team & the southern allies coming along)?

What is the limitation to Lysandra’s powers (can they find a way to trick the Terrasen flower into “blooming”)?

Is their further crossover between these series (ACOTAR & CC)?

Explain further how certain things work such as mates (Rowan has two? Celaena/Aelin too maybe? & what that means for others)… And just a lil’ fluff (Rowan & Fleetfoot, the team all together, shenanigans & some side plots for funsies) maybe?…

I theorize Fire-Heart will:

Confirm Rowaelin as mates (they practically have already but I want to hear the words). Plus plenty more of them just being them (their every moment is so detailed & precious). Maybe even some more moments with Prince of Doranelle vibes ;-)

Show that there are multiple Carranams (possibly a dyad between Aelin & Dorian. Rowan & Aelin being the mates balance; making Aelin & Dorian the “friendship / rulers / fates” balance). & Without a limit to their power; the danger of over-draining others (Deanna causing Rowan to feel “thunder steal his magic” is CONCERNING & Dorian’s magic is hungry for it).

Confirm that Aelin can use shadowfire, moonfire, & power without limit. Explore her other gifts such as water & healing. Possibly introduce her as a powerful enough wielder to use all the forms (as briefly referenced as a possibility among others before).

Confirm Lysandra & Aedion as mates or at least a couple. (Also use it to explore Aedion’s history & introduce the Bane or at least their set-up).

Bring back the Mycenians since Lysandra & Aelin’s masterplan worked (THE DRAGON THEORY WAS RIGHT)!

Set sail on Manorian in a way that is explanatory/foreshadowing. (Possibly tap into Dorian’s immortality? & power exploration explanations. And go into Manon’s ability to forge a new alliance of peace between MANY groups; not because I’m suggesting the sexist “get married” nonsense so many are giving Aelin, literally just that she could speak on behalf of many groups & since Darrow has brought diplomatic debates into this war it could be an asset).

Introduce Ansel, and perhaps loop back to the Red Desert (unless the Silent Assassins have disappeared). Showing all of Celaena as we see all of Aelin (letting Rowan know even more of her, healing those wounds as he & her family fully accept her; hopefully doing the same thing for them; going through more history). & Similarly with Rowan; possibly saving the Cadre’s lives through it (or at least stopping Lorcans “execution”).

Tie in the spider silk, between Abraxos’s wings (Manon’s “stealing”), & Aelin’s Red Desert history deals. If not in this book than KoA.

Explain Maeve’s obsession with Aelin & vendetta against the family.

Aelin reclaiming her crown by having the heart of her people (we’ve seen “the future”, there is a woman with hair like moonlight; I think this is Manon. The people chant for her, she is their Queen and that is her court; including the witch).

I think Aelin (like Manon & the other golden eyed 13) are Valg proof. She has the golden eye ring of the Ashryver eyes… in that case maybe Aedion too?? (Hopefully🥺… I mean why else would history write a poem about it?) … While I’m at it let’s make Lysandra’s shifting immune too (protect all my bb’s)!😂

Reveal the Wyrdstone Elide carries as THE Lock (between her last name having the word lock😂 or “loch” I guess, the magic not being immediately recognized as a Wyrdkey by Lorcan, & Kaltain’s promise/importance with an explanation for the “living gate” term). Then when she reaches them so does the thread of fate (once again).

Go to Ellywe & both heal/break my soul (all this travel has made it inevitable; though it is cool to see more of the continents of this fictional world etc.)!🙃

Not something I truly believe but one I wonder on; is there a relation between either Rowan & Manon (history or hair color related😂) or Aelin & Manon (some sort of blood relation; the gold eyes & power levels?).

Not theories but things I think need to happen ASAP: STOP WEARING THE WYRDKEY as a necklace AELIN I DON’T care if it’s a “family heirloom” IT’S A BAD IDEA (have you not seen Harry Potter? — sry for another reference, but seriously DON’T WEAR HORCRUX LOCKETS folks)! Tell Elide the full truth; Celaena = Aelin (at least Lorcan is getting close). Commit to immortality (I’m looking at you Aelin & Aedion; esp. Aelin… ROWAN NEEDS THIS; the only time I will ever encourage a woman to “settle”😂)! Address the very long list of “things for later/back burner” because I can’t keep track😂 & they are all WAY too important😅, dangerous😬, and THE LIST IS LONG SO HURRY UP Y’ALL😁!!!

— NOW ONTO THE “ACTUALLY” READ “BIG PORTION😂 —

The Fire-Bringer:

A lot of reactions have random posts; per usual many of the opinions change with hindsight, but I like being able to look back & enjoy it for the first time so (while I do try to give an update) I’ll probably leave the posts up :-) hoping to get a few lil (by that I mean pages jk sry not sry lol I warned you) notes I’m pondering on in here though…

I love the Little Folk’s little but magical role:😊 when (not if; I’m gonna will it into reality with terminology) this gets an adaptation I can’t wait to see them! — I really love the fan art & its many different takes for what they may be all the way from fairy’s, to wisps, to “baby-Groot”-like characters! … I also wonder if they could help out with that “rulers flower thing” possibly, same as pondered for Lysandra (I think these “little things” will be keys to helping Aelin with “dum-dum Darrow” (as I’ve dubbed him; cause I’m angry! & it may be only a 1st read impression as of right now, but he’s also given me 0 reason to like him).

The Oakwald forest: EVERYONE IS SO CLOSE yet SO FAR! (At least Manon has finally made it to the team… well kinda… she better actually MAKE IT past the ship drop-off… if you can call it that?😅 this is why I need to type fast & go read!) If Tower of Dawn manages to match this pace of “just-missed, kinda-crossover” I see why the tandem read would work! It’s quite fun (& semi-irritating/anxiety-inducing but in a good way😂).

Speaking (writing?😂) of Manon: TALK ABOUT IMMEDIATE CHAOS, each of her chapters have been SO intense. I might have cried with her the most so far; I legitimately almost lost it over Asterin’s almost execution & The Thirteen (I AM VERY GLAD THEY FINALLY LEFT THE MATRON & got out so they can please be safe now; or at least they already are in my mind; though last we saw them it was all chaos, they were running (a win) & the shadows seemed to confirm them getting out (another good sign) while Asterin being dragged off screaming isn’t great I think she was shouting for Manon because she didn’t want to leave her… & I refuse to accept any other answer) only problem is Manon is not with them; & she really needs to be😅😅😭 instead of half-dead in the woods, hunted by a banshee-hound-thing? Abraxos honey, thank you for taking care of mother🥹😂 at least she is with the team on the same-ish side now. So, hopefully Abraxos will go grab the rest of The Thirteen while he drops Manon off? I NEED THE WHOLE GANG; I mean Erawan & Maeve are screwed in that case. Esp. since most of them are Valg proof golden eyed; & also have you seen these gals fight? … Honestly, I think they are one of the great shows of good writing in these books; because these characters could easily be read as villains & psychopaths to be hated, yet they manage to be a compelling, interesting, group of female badassery & sisterhood, that really captures your heart (pun intended). HOWEVER, I say all of this Spoiler-free while not oblivious; I have 2 &1/2 books left (wow that’s numbers too small I’m gonna get sad😅😂) I know people say this ending is a hard, & a book of cliffhangers… So, if this is “just” the beginning it can only get crazier😅 (I just don’t want to know; I want to think this will be like ACOTAR with no deaths as long as I can believe it) & even with the Matron’s probable on-it’s-way “dispatch”, they managed to hide Asterin for years. My main concern is Sorrel & Vesta as they’ve been given enough time to love them, yet not enough time for a full arc, I can’t have any red shirts & I’m a little worried for them (but I just wanna love them as long as I can🥹).

I’m so glad I was right; from day ONE I’ve been wondering about Aedion & Lysandra cause *coughs* I mean their first scene together ever… she’s changing his shirt… and now the whole “wandering off to give Rowaelin time” which while a fair-ish excuse it is also a little ;-) ;-) … and now that he’s said he’s gonna marry her “Because I am going to marry you," he promised her. "One day. I am going to marry you.”… I’m counting it (why is it giving New Girl CeCe & Schmidt?😂)

But in all seriousness ship-ness aside I appreciate their friendship; the understanding of each-other with a healthier trauma bond (for all they cannot say, yet carry so heavily; all the shame & fear Aedion is wrestling with; & the steady acceptance Lysandra gives) I loved them both as is, but together is something precious & nice to see develop (while staying slow, taking time, surety of respectful). While at times it feels fast, it makes complete sense (esp. as we don’t get their perspectives as frequently, & with the knowledge that mates can be pretty immediate; even if it’s not “said”; it tracks).

Though it hurt (& was also kinda healthily valid) to hear Aedion be angry with Aelin, it also says a lot about how much he cares for Lysandra (as Aelin often can “do no wrong in his eyes”) to be angry in the first place “And for the first time, he hated his cousin. He hated Aelin for asking this of Lysandra, both to defend them and to secure the Mycenians to fight for Terrasen. Hated the people who had left such scars on the shifter that Lysandra was so willing to throw her life away. Hated ... hated himself for being stuck in this useless tower.” While also knowing it’s not her fault, it is her choice, but it also had to be (he at least knows that & does cut her slack). “He was shaking now, that rage indeed taking over. But Rowan snarled at him, low and vicious, "Save it for later." Aedion growled right back at him. Rowan gave him a cold, steady look that said if he so much as began to hint at what their queen carried, he'd rip out his tongue. Literally. Aedion shoved down the anger. "We can't carry her, and she's too weak to shift." "Then we wait here until she can," Aelin said. But her eyes drifted to the bay, and to the city beyond, still cheering. victory—but very nearly a loss. The remnants of the Mycenians, saved by one of their long-lost sea dragons. Aelin and Lysandra had woven ancient prophecies into tangible fact. "I'll stay," Aedion said. "You deal with Rolfe." "Fine," he said. Aelin groaned, getting to her feet, but stared down at him before she took Rowan's extended hand. She said softly, "I'm sorry." Aedion knew she meant it. He still didn't bother replying.” & knows (because Lysandra makes him better; as she already reminds him with her knowing compassion): “"That man has endured enough, Aedion. A little kindness wouldn't kill you." "He stabbed Aelin. If you knew him as I have, you wouldn't be so willing to fawn over. "No one expects you to fawn over him. But a kind word, some respect-" He rolled his eyes. "Keep your voice down." She did- but went on, "He was violated, and even if you cannot draw up forgiveness for stabbing Aelin against his own will, then try to have some compassion for that." — Aedion snarled at her. Lysandra snarled right back and held his stare with the face not trained or built for bedrooms, but the true one beneath—wild and unbroken and indomitable. No matter what body she wore, she was the Staghorns given form, the heart of Oakwald Aedion said hoarsely, "I'll try." "Try harder. Try better."”)

& Then moments like him asking her to come with him to meet Gavriel, & she simply does. Or that she trusts him to carry her home, vulnerable & tired. I think they give a lot of what the other needs while growing to be who they are themselves. Plus Lysandra deserves to be a leopard princess, sister-in-law(ish) to Aelin. “Princess Lysandra Ashryver sounds nice, doesn't it?” YES IT DOES!

Speaking of Lysandra (who is seriously one of my all time favorites; I relate, I adore her, and really it just doesn’t get better then all of these characters) I WAS RIGHT ABOUT LYSANDRA BEING A DRAGON!!! GENIUS!! And also LYSANDRA WAS A DRAGON!!!!!! I love her & Aelin’s plotting (which also gets kinda Kaz Brekker vibes sometimes; she is so brilliant, & the fact Lysandra just piles into the shenanigans; I love them). TALK ABOUT POWER! Also what fun genius for mythology… winning the people’s hearts… etc. …if only she could turn into a flower… and making that moment the first perspective we have from her in this book was so fun! Shoutout to @ asexualzucchini for fandoming about this with me (heads up again cause I know your on a first read too; THIS POST HAS SPOILERS for Pt. 1 ;-)

ELIDE & LORCAN; a team-up I was NOT expecting, yet find SO intriguing. From highlighting Elide (which is well deserved) esp. in her truest strength; smarts (her & Annabeth Chase would’ve been besties) and as something even Lorcan sees & values greatly, extra fun as in combo to his physical strength it’s a pretty perfect team (& a helpful combo for storytelling because you see his perspective which is of course very different then spoken threats from Rowaelin perspectives ONLY; & of course once again while I’m curious to learn more on the Cadre; esp. since Lorcan often to me just seems angry to have “lost” his friend). And I do love the boundaries they respect (even as an unknown dare I say “anti-hero”? Lorcan still has some clear moral lines (& I generally appreciate that in the Maasverse that everyone except the worst of the worst can agree where those are) he also keeps his word a VERY intriguing piece of his character), also the representation they give (go team disability represent!) + small girlies hanging out w big brooding boys (there’s my “kitty” style reference for you Aelin lol). Also funny cause eventually they’re gonna end up in the same place😂 P.S. him calling her MARION (gut-wrenching), Crochan history (very curious), etc. IT’S JUST ALL SO INTRIGUING! … Now if we could only have an empowering crossover so she can go talk to Feyre & realize she’s already intelligent, powerful, & capable, & not being able to read has no effect on that!! (while we’re at it & I’m on a crow comparison kick; go hug Wylan please).

Another team up I didn’t expect but surprisingly loved most was Dorian & Rowan’s roadtrip through Rifthold (new movie adaptation idea?😂):

Dorian, Dorian, Dorian where do I begin? — I love him. I think he might be the most morally grounded character (odd as that sounds for someone that was recently possessed). He would be a good king, because most important he’s just a good man. My heart breaks for him, he’s seen a lot without time or space to deal with it (it’s just adding up; “The latter, Dorian realized, usually happened when even the heat and sun couldn't drive away the shadows of the past few months—when he awoke with his sweat feeling like Sorscha's blood, when he couldn't abide even the brush of his tunic against his neck.”); yet he still gives everything he can to his friends, his people, his country (& Rowan gives & takes care of him too (another Aelin paralell/foreshadowing; “"You're not going to believe me," Aelin went on. "What l've just said, you're not going to believe me. I know it--and that's fine. I don't expect you to. When you're ready, I'll be here.”) ; “He wasn't sure whether to thank the Fae Prince for noticing or to hate him for the kindness.” — Because Rowan knows; “"You're going to hate the world, Dorian. You are going to hate yourself. You will hate your magic, and you will hate any moment of peace or happiness. But I had the luxury of a kingdom at peace and no one depending upon me. You do not."”); and somehow Dorian just remains good and kind even when the world is not. He may carry more, but it is never an excuse for him; he sets aside his pride, humbled, un-selfish, caring, and really trying. (remarkable enough that even Rowan notices & takes note; “I have known many kings in my life, Dorian Havilliard. And it was a rare man indeed who asked for help when he needed it, who would put aside pride.”) And I also appreciate that he is cared for in this, seen for who he is; respected in it (FINALLY said quite well in: “Rowan knew most underestimated the sharp intelligence under that disarming smile. Knew that Dorian's value wasn't his godlike magic, but his mind”)

And getting the friends & care he deserves, like Aelin who kept her word “I came back for you. "You both came back,"” (he is her friend, she does care for him) as it’s shown because she went so far as to send Rowan (someone she would NEVER risk; “"I will save him," he murmured. "I wouldn't ask this of you unless it was ... Dorian is vital. Lose him, and we lose any support in Adarlan." And one of the few magic-wielders who could stand against Morath. Rowan's nod was grim. "I serve you, Aelin. Do not apologize for putting me to use." Because only Rowan, riding the winds with his magic, could reach Rifthold in time. Even now, he might be too late. Aelin swallowed hard, fighting the feeling that the world was being ripped from under her feet.” (When she says “losing support” she pauses; because really it’s about losing Dorian her friend, remember she’s always coming from the mindset of “she will not write another name on her scars” almost to the level of her “I will not be afraid mantra” fading in from QoS in this first EoS quarter) so she wouldn’t risk him even in leaving her side (which props to Maas for breaking a typical VERY possessive YA trait; even at the cost of a promise-ish from the last book; “Next time we need to save the world, we do it together. Deal.”). & keeps keeping that promise to save him; not only to keep her word, but keep her friend. Along the way he so easily becomes Rowan’s friend, thawing the ice by just being a decent guy (that says a lot for a centuries old Prince of stoic brooding). I love the genuine respect they have for each other; the time they take (even short as it is) to have a mini-boat therapy session because they needed it; it says a lot about the two of them as good men; the way they help each-other, plan & train together (Dorian even has time to understand Aelin’s time away with a new compassion😅😅 “Honestly, Dorian had no idea how Aelin had survived months of this--let alone fallen in love with the warrior while she did. Though he supposed both the queen and prince possessed a sadistic streak that made them compatible” & even see Rowan get a taste of the Celaena Sardothien world & find he has similar sass). vice-versa you also see someone valuing Rowan’s strength, strategy, personality beyond warrior or prince, without any of this “male pride chest-puffing instinct”. And the way despite the change in new healthier friendships you also have the original ones growing with them “"And will keep changing," she said, squeezing his arm once. "But... There are things that won't change. I will always be your friend." His throat bobbed. "I wish I could see her, just one last time. To tell her... to say what was in my heart." "She knows," Aelin said, blinking against the burning in her eyes. "I'll miss you," Dorian said. "Though I doubt the next time we meet will be in such …civilized circumstances." She tried not to think about it. He gestured over her shoulder to her court. "Don't make them too miserable. They're only trying to help you."” It helps both him and them; like the team they need to be & are finding a way in: “"We'll figure it out." She loosed a breath. "But your being king is the first step of it."” Like the Queens & Kings they have been becoming for a world slowly building; starting with the fact he is one of the good men that do exist (like Nehemia & Celaena said) and as already shown: “Ten years later, and they were all sitting together at a table again--no longer children, but rulers of their own territories. Ten years later, and here they were, friends despite the forces that had shattered and destroyed them. Aelin looked at the kernel of hope glowing in that dining room and lifted her glass. "To a new world," the Queen of Terrasen said. The King of Adarlan lifted his glass, such endless shadows dancing in his eyes, but--there. A glimmer of life. "To freedom."” esp. as he helps raise up women in positions of power to do so as well! (We love a King ally)

Much like Aelin growing into a queen you see the shift as Dorian becomes a King. “Never again. Never again would he be weak and useless and frightened.” (From a quote I appreciated and found Nesta paralells in). “To her surprise, a king smiled back.” And I just hope somewhere along the way Dorian also finds his happy ending much like our queen is slowly finding a way too (like Rowan said; “You will find your way, too, Dorian. You'll find your way out.”); I think Manon is promising, I think he finally has a real family, & he’s learning his power which is good; his already Kingly skills also come in handy, they needed a diplomat. And for two characters I love so much, a genre that rarely shows good friendships between so many characters and guys having emotions and bonding beyond a love interest trope… I just loved it! p.s. thanks again @ mysterylilycheeta for fandoming about this one with me (and many others :-)

Now speaking of Dorian quotes (plus I needed a transition lol) much like Dorian I do sometimes miss Chaol; “"You know," he said, "sometimes I wish Chaol were here to help me. And then sometimes I'm glad he's not, so he wouldn't be at risk again. I'm glad he's in Antica with Nesryn.”while also being glad he’s off somewhere else… not just ‘cause of the injury (I actually hope they don’t make that THE “problem”, at least in the sense of making him “useless”. While healing in a magical realm is a useful skill, representation of disabled characters in the read world is also really important & still super kick-ass & powerful)… So, I’m glad he’s gone not for that but for the fact I think his mentality would conflict right now (& while Aelin isn’t always right; & does sometimes need a check as Aedion aforementioned & does this at least better thank Chaol in timing & how) + most of the time ya kinda need to just “keep calm & trust the process” because while “the gods may have some “masterplan” & only Aelin can outsmart & outplan them (you just have to let her go for it)… and hopefully Elide will be there to help soon!

Now speaking of good friends, & the rest of this post from “threads of fate”, to really loving characters, friendships, relationships (even most of my favorite quotes) it’s time to address THE SHIP because there is ROWAELIN. TRULY WHERE DO I START? I love them. They are perfect. Nothing can break them (Nothing better try). I love the peace & hope they hold for the other (they want more together, for each other; to live.). The balance they carry; especially when one is down, the other lifts them up (even rapidly flipping; I’m a few Chapters into Part 2 (spoiler sentence)🚨 & there’s the moment where it goes from her being on fire & him waking her from her nightmares, to him so panicked to save her he’s freezing the room & she’s soothing him). The way they are so alike, & shown even more so (as I’ve briefly mentioned) in this book (Rowan having some Celaena moments, her taking on a leader & diplomatic role, learning to control water & him teaching her to heal, exploring each others histories & a growing team of friends for & with them) & VERY different (they are the balance even in what they do share; for instance a scene I think on frequently: when Rowan leaves to go get Dorian, and Aelin cannot let him go. Right there she uses very specific words; she does not ask him to stay instead she says she cannot let him go; because she knows asking him to stay (like Lyria had begged) would kill him or telling him “he’s leaving her” would utterly destroy them both. And he does the same; he distracts her (knows what she needs) takes a moment for them (stops the clock) kisses her and then leaves before she opens her eyes in a flash, so she does not have to watch him leave (again), or (be the one to) walk away from him (he knows she already used all of her will to even have him go in the first place, she cannot ask anything more or she will not ask at all), or run again. They both are feeling the same thing, while understanding the differences they have experienced, they take the notice to love the other the way they need & the only way they can). Part of it stems from something I’ve adressed on the blog before, the honesty they share; and desperately needed. Or have discussed with other fans in beyond that the fact they trust, they can have it all on the table, and respect what has to be kept. Part is the fact they are the others soulmate (waiting for those words: “mate” to “officially” & finally seal what we ALL know by now😂). Another being the threads of fate every character keeps seeing; they are VERY tightly bound beyond separation; for better or worse a tangled knot that can not be undone.

The way in that they would fight by the others side, live & die together, for each-other. They would save the world for each-other (like Rowan jumping in front of the moonfire because he knew her fiery soul; “"No!" The word was a roar, a plea, and silver and green flashed in her vision. A name. A name clanged through her as he hurled himself in the path of that fist, that moonfire, not just to save those innocents in the city, but to spare her soul from the agony if she destroyed them all-Rowan.” — “"If you had destroyed that city, it would have destroyed you, and any sort of hope at an alliance."”) It goes beyond taking a bullet for the other, it goes to taking a bullet from the other (you see that side a lot in HoF). They would save the other for the world (like he says, the world needs alliances; because he knows it needs her, his queen). Or the other from the world; “And as his face became clear, his tattoo stark in the sun, as that fist full of unimaginable power now opened toward his heart-There was no force in any world that could keep her contained.” Together, to whatever end. They would even destroy it for the other; “But if it was death separating us … I would find you. I don’t care how many rules it would break. Even if I had to get all three keys myself and open a gate, I would find you again. Always.” They deserve something that’s an always, known, world & gods defying. And while I appreciate the way they defend each other, I also appreciate the way they defend their friends together; it may be them to whatever end, but it’s also not just them against the world (more so for the world?) they may be capable of destroying the world for each other, still they choose to give everything to save it. They choose each other, they continue to do so, to accept, to be honest. “Even if this thing between them ... even if he knew it was not mere lust, or even just love. This thing between them, the force of it, could devour the world. And if they picked it, picked them, it might very well cause the end of it.” they have a powerful love (one that is quite literally more powerful together). I love that scene too, the carranam; the way he steadies her (he knows why the manacles scare her, knows how to help her breathe despite it; “she is not afraid”), trusts her (she could kill them both, but he believes in her, always has, even before she believed in herself) gives her his power (talk about a feminist ally😂 he literally uses his power to give her more power), and she blazes the world (better & worse); she trusts him enough for the irons (something she may have killed someone else for), she trusts his trust in her (it empowers her metaphorically too), trusts him to save her from herself; trusts him which as this line shows; “"You trust nothing. She met his eyes. "I trust you."” is almost a miracle in itself. I love the easy rhythm they fall into like breathing, simple domesticity (even among war), natural understanding (soulmates), gentle unconditional stubborn & unchanging love that simply is. & is accepted as such. Learning more of their history in parallels & new perspectives, tales & legends, chaos & opposites (especially opposed in power) FIRE & ICE and remains the “meant to be” Carranam; though one of a kind it also understands itself in being love among grief, giving it the ability to see & soothe the unhealthy internal monologues… in a way that’s honestly kinda healing to read; I love their quotes, I love their scenes, I love their characters, I just love them.

It’s been fun to see more Aelin as Aelin, (and I’m not meaning “The one in green smiled, but for all its delight, all its wicked mischief ... It was a softer smile, made with a mouth that was perhaps less used to snarling and teeth-baring and getting away with saying hideous, swaggering things. Lysandra, then. The two queens faced Rolfe.” Lysandra twin-swap scene 😂) the way Celaena is now recognized as a part to play; “You met Aelin when she was still pretending to be Celaena” — “Because it was Celaena who sat here-for whatever purpose, it was Celaena Sardothien in this room.” from the way Rowan helped & accepted her all along. Rowan has always been her protector, her guard, her best champion, fiercest warrior & love, her dearest friend, her everything. It’s the one that saw all & loved anyways “to have one person who knew the absolute truth about her--and didn't hate her for it.” — “I see you, I see every part of you. And I am not afraid.” he is not afraid of her; the first time she’s ever had that… Something she desperately needs as someone so fear-based… She went from being a child who was never not afraid; she was taught to fear her power, fear the secret coming free, because she would be persecuted; because her people would not love her for what she was; she was protected against it and taught her powers weren’t to be trusted. She spent so long burying herself… Arobynn taught her that; created a world of only that for her to exist in, only to survive never to live. And as I’ve said before I LOVE SAM, I truly think he would have accepted her without flinching (I love & believe in the many soulmates for many lives theories; he was Celaena’s) but over & over again the saddest four words of almost they never had time. Thinking someone would love you “even if” is different that getting to experience it, she was still afraid he would turn her in or turn away, he would judge her as she judged herself, or didn’t know “how dark she could go”; like he was too good and she would drag him down. And here is Rowan: the one person who could stop her (the dark comfort she takes in knowing he could save the world if she endangered it; “That is how I was able to stand before the King of Adarlan, how I was able to befriend his son and his captain, how I was able to live in that palace. Because I did not give that rage, those memories, one inch. And right now I am looking for the tools that might destroy my enemy, and I cannot let out the monster, because it will make me use those tools against the king, not put them back as I should--and I might very well destroy the world for spite. So that is why l must be Celaena, not Aelin--because being Aelin means facing those things, and unleashing that monster. Do you understand?”) and doesn’t think that of her; “For whatever it's worth, I don't think you would destroy the world from spite.”

To the moment on the beach that strikes me again & again; Aelin in her rawest state (inner child & traumatized immortal), sobbing, unclothed (a very important detail not because of the rest of Chapter 38 spice but because of the psychological component; she is stripped down to her core at her worst, most vulnerable, visibly terrified uncomfortable state; it’s more like a nightmare of giving a speech & realizing your the only one without clothes), on fire (no hidden power or sense of control), unleashing an entire storm (after almost destroying the world; her world; even against her will); because she is Aelin Ashryver Galathynius “the rightful heir of fire” and Queen of Terrasen; she has been “Adarlans Assassin” & a “King’s Champion” Lillian, Elentiya, Celaena… all of these names… and yet, she is still afraid. And she cannot stop it; she is trying & failing, feeling every step backwards for every step she takes, she is running to nowhere, she is lost. And then there is Rowan. Rowan, who walked to the creak to see her, and went loudly so she would know & not be afraid. Rowan who knows when she needs to let off steam (literally) & has been burned & still does not turn away from her. Rowan who now is “silent as death” because he knows her mind is already screaming enough for the both of them. Rowan who follows her; over & over, unflinching, returning, staying, seeing, & still believing in her (even before she believed in herself; even when she cannot). She is begging for anyone that listens to take the job & all its “blessings & burdens of power”, wishing for a bottom to the endless abyss of her power, drowning in it; helpless in her own strength, because she does not trust herself (how can she when she can’t even be herself; not just Celaena; but Deanna), trying to run from herself. And Rowan who sees, hears, knows; and only cares about her. Choosing her. Loving her. Telling her those words. Arguing against the voices in her head for her; making her feel for a moment that maybe somehow she’s worth it (or at least too lucky to care even if she’s not). Because he has every reason to go; he knows what he could lose (even as they stand there; he is still shaken & terrified; he just saw a god steal the woman he loves from her own mind; he has no idea how to fight that & bring her back) He has lost that; felt it for centuries The world may be the price, they may be the price, they are in the middle of a war waged & waiting for hundreds of years; and he does not care. He only cares about her; better & worse. And she is not alone; never again. Reminding her that she can be both, staying on the road. As he says (a quote that made me cry): “You and I will learn to manage your power together. You do not face this alone; you do not decide that you are unlovable because you have powers that can save and destroy. If you start to resent that power… I don’t know where we go on that road.” And when she voices it, that fear (that brought me to tears); you’re just crazy for loving me.“"Because I'm the only one arrogant and insane enough to ask Mala Fire-Bringer to let me stay with the woman I love. Her flames turned to pure gold at the words-at that word. But she said, "Perhaps you're just the only one arrogant and insane enough to love me."” He simply, firmly, undoubtably, says no. … And when the times comes; when he creates a snow storm of his own (& destroys half a forrest😂) she just laughs, holds him closer, kisses him again. As she says; “who would not look at those flames with any ounce of fear.” as anyone else would have. They aren’t afraid of each other, they aren’t afraid, not together. “But Rowan had caught her each time she had fallen-first, when she had plummeted into that abyss of despair and grief; second, when that castle had shattered and she had plunged to the earth. And now this time, this third time ... She was not afraid.”

And because they are equal, because they will go to whatever end, because they pull each other back over & over whenever/wherever they drift. (And while I love Lyria, I believe she was one of his soulmates) I don’t think anyone ever understood him so well in return… Rowan loved Lyria. Lyria wanted him to stay for good reason, but he was not able to tire to rest to settle; she did not understand the warrior; just as he couldn’t understand enough not to be. Where peace was never quite had, the warrior that could not rest; there is Aelin. Who just goes to war with him, for him, for them. She is his hope, his queen, his love, his world, his fireheart🥹, & his everything (& thankfully NOT because of the blood-oath; “"How does she do it?" Aelin asked baldly. "With Rowan, it's not ... Every order I give him, even casual ones, are his to decide what to do with. Only when I actively pull on the bond can I get him to ... yield. And even then it's more of a suggestion." "It is different with her," Gavriel said softly. "Dependent on the ruler it is sworn to. You two took the oath to each other with love in your hearts. You had no desire to own or rule him." Aelin tried not to flinch at the truth of that word—love. That day ... when Rowan had looked into her eyes as he drank her blood ... she'd started to realize what it was. That the feeling that passed between them, so powerful there was no language to describe it ... It was not mere friendship, but something born of and strengthened by it.” glad they clarified that to give consent). I’ve said this about them before and I’ll say it again there is something healing in how wholly they accept and understand each other (to the point you would think they are reading minds), how evenly matched and equal they are. They are two of the best matched characters I know of; at times even to a fault (but even that is taken in stride). Aelin and Rowan are everything they have ever been with the other. This isn’t a comparison, there’s something beautiful to each of them (I’ll even still say that to Dorian & Aelin, the way their friendship came to be, and re-reads what might have been) there is just the fact that this is different and I think it’s a special kind of something. And the fact in the matching for the other they can go to the ends of the earth together; whether it be as Queen and Prince (though he would make a good king ;-) or assassins, gentle souls trying to rest, never at rest but trying for peace, fae and shifters fire and ice, warriors, martyrs, saviors, villains, Kings Champion & Maeve’s Cadre, friends, mates, whatever it may be “to whatever end”.

I especially love them in the little things… all these moments that show everything I’ve said and more.

The detail in Rowan knowing the other side to Aelin keeping him at the beach, and it not taking away from the moment. He knows, he accepts it. They know the layers, they don’t pretend otherwise, they don’t run or fight it, they just sit with it. The way he held her & grounded her during the sea battle, believing in her even as she lost her balance in power, the way she came back from Deanna for him, the way she held on to him through the storm. She reminds him what he is; that he is everything she needs, she doesn’t take the bullshit, she doesn’t give up; she lends a hand, or lets him follow, or defends him. And they finally said it; I love you. — Actually better than that, worlds best quote award of: “I love you. There is no limit to what I can give to you, no time I need. Even when this world is a forgotten whisper of dust between the stars, I will love you.”They finally chose this, them; and the world needed it (I will go down with the ship of them as queen and king). … So, my shippers heart is happy, I want more, I’m happy they’re happy, I want them to stay happy. They are the best brightest threads of fate & for a book I’ve loved to see tie together, the Rowaelin ship has been pretty perfect.

And some random notes I keep wondering on:

The color green in this series… From Lysandra’s eyes (the one marker she keeps in each form; funny as it’s also Terrasen (her future Courts) color, to Rowan’s pine green (& often “home” like Terrasen descriptions (once again)) to the green roofing of Rifthold, or tiling of the desert, the stolen wax stamp rings, Terrasen’s color, etc. … it’s just used to tell a lot of story & I find it a fun note!

On the subject of these “fun notes” I’d also like to Mention Maasverse “deals” in wording; I find it so interesting how carefully phrased (like a genie) things need to be, yet kept to their word they are. I feel like there’s some loopholes within some plots right now using that clause (if only there was Mort to prove it!)… I miss Mort…

There’s all of Lysandra’s shapeshifting, the character in that, her character all together. And then moments like Rowan reaching her to fly, to have her own wings. And introducing more powers outside of fae.

Fenyrs possible… winnowing? Whatever reason it was that Rowan sent him to save Aelin instead of himself (obviously meaning he was more capable because Rowan would save her any means necessary).

And these aforementioned threads of fate are pretty brilliantly done, I look forward to continuing to enjoy them. From Oakwald to 10 years ago to the detail of plans (Aelin going to the temple, for Brannon & the Dragon, & her territory claim… etc.)… SO MANY!!!

Especially because of YOU!..

— Final, biggest most important book/fandom thought yet: —

THANK YOU to the Maasverse!

As someone who doesn’t know anyone reading these —one of my favorite things to do is talk about them with other fans— I’m thankful to still have that; I’m thankful that tumblr has that; and thankful that y’all are so welcoming, kind, talented, & lovely! (Limiting full tags as this post is ridiculously long and no one should “have” to read it😂)

There’s a long list of you, to name a few (others please know you are still on the list, loved & appreciated)!! @ archerons-elain @ highladyelenna @ iwantavaldezinator @ romantasyreader28 @ antvwinderbaum @ shadowhunters77 @ chaos-on-stand-bi @ theauroragalaxy @ impossibelle @ aelin-fire-heart @ autumnbabylon @ headboymalfoy @ somebooksbelonginthesinbin @ idfendyr @ winged-artistic-wolf @ batter-upp @ cheap-spirits @ just tsteffs50cts @ xxvalkyriesxx @ captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @ lynnsthoughts @ maevecrom @ stingy-swann @ mothlvrtothemoon @ wannaberachelgrxxn @ sweetokami @ avymiir

& so if I missed any, like I said just know you are so appreciated🫶 … and sorry I get confused sometimes (as this is technically a secondary blog to @lavendarneverlands lol😂). It’s always me though🤣

[sweet-old-hereafter]

The Primus Game: Prologue

Coming soon on Ao3

I swear this is a nomae fic, writing an ape bible is just easier than exposition

In the age of old, apes did prosper under the reign of our Caesar, and Caesar created our Law.

Primus 1:28, The Sacred Scrolls

When came the mighty flood; it scattered our people across the land where we could not find eachother. It was the undoing of our bonds; it was the bleeding of our lifeblood.

Primus 7:23, The Sacred Scrolls

He who was the last Scion of Caesar of the Coast did declare to gather the sundered; and so He did.

And so the Scion led His people from their wastelands and said; This land shall be my land, this land shall be your land, and who transgresses upon our land transgresses upon us all, and who fails to serve their land fails us all.

Before you I have set twelve portions of this land, divided in practice but united in purpose, and I shall call this land a Kingdom, and we shall call this Kingdom Pacifica, and the Coastal City, home of the Scion, shall be its Capital.

Dynasties 22-24:13, The Sacred Scrolls

Echoes are lesser apes who survive only under the guidance of the Great Ones. Each Clan shall be supplied with their own flock of Echoes, and they will be utilized to carry out tasks designated as unfit for our Kind.

Beware the Echo who can speak; for they are a mimicry who can only espouse lies, and their word foretells the downfall of our Kind.

Proxies 2-3:1, The Sacred Scrolls

Once a year, each Clan is to pay Tribute to its Capital in the form of an Echo, and this Echo will represent them in a bloodsport in the Coastal City. The Echo who falls last shall bless their Clan in riches for the next year.

Proxies 5:16, The Sacred Scrolls

In the Darkest Chapter, ape turned against ape. And the Scion of the Scion before him, our King Proximus Caesar, saw that in the time of our separation they were corrupted, and when those who strayed from the land of our inheritance returned, they returned Changed. This Change would never fully be reversed. We could only hope to quell it through the purging of blood.

Absolution 1:18, The Sacred Scrolls

Each Clan is now required to pay Tribute in the form of one Echo and one of their own, and these Tributes will fight to the death against twenty-two other Tributes in what shall henceforth be known as the Primus Game. We as the Representatives of our Clans agree to honor this along with other provisions listed above to atone for our transgression against our Coast and our Kingdom.

Article XVI, The Treaty of Treason

[irisopranta]

The Girl from Gridania Chapter 7: The Scions

Part 7 of Iris’s origin story. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Or Ao3 Word Count: 2,295

A sharp gasp escaped her lips. Her eyes shot opened. It took a moment for her vision to adjust to where she is now. Last she remembered she was in the middle of nowhere being attacked by a primal. Now, however, she found herself in a bed in a room. The stone facing of the walls around her were unfamiliar to her. She looked over her body, seeing a few bandages around her arm. She notices that she was in a white robe, confused to what happened to her dress.

As she looked around, the door to the room swung open. In came in a lalafellin woman with a tray of various items. A cloth, a vessel of water, and soap. She seemed cheerful enough humming a song and hadn’t noticed that Iris was up and about. She set the tray on the end table that was next to the bed. The humming continued as she dipped the cloth in the water before applying the soap to the cloth. Turning to Iris, she opened her eyes and noticed that she was awake.

“Oh sorry.” The Lalafellin shocked and panicked, dropped everything she had in hand. She turned away to head out of the door.

“Wait!” Iris yelped. This seemed to make her stop from going completely out for the room. She turned back to Iris. “What’s going on? What happened? Where am I?” She barraged the lalafell. She continues “And who are you?”

The lalafell sighed. “I guess it would be natural for you to be confused, but let’s take it slow. My name is Tataru Taru.” She gave Iris a bit of a bow with her introduction. “As for everything else I feel that I must bring my boss here to answer your other questions.” She started to head out of the door once again shouting “I’ll be back.”

Iris, now alone in the room that she was resting for however long now. The silence was starting to drive her mad. A moment later, Tataru came back with a woman just as pink as her.

A highlander? She thought as she looked over the new face before her. Her blond hair was all tied up with braids. Her skin was dark, most likely from being from all sun exposal. Maybe she is an Ala Mhigan?

“Hello there!” She greeted. “I am Minfillia. The leader for my fair group, The Scions of the Seventh Dawn. A group of adventurers looking to bring the next Astral age upon us.” Her voice was calming. Much to Iris amazement that she could be a leader of any sort of organization. Minfillia continued on “You might be wondering why you might be here. You see, We believe you might possibly have the echo.”

“The…Echo?” Iris’ face twisted for a moment. Never have she heard of this echo and to hear that might have it. What is she even going on about.

As her mind wondered off, The Antecedent nodded “Aye the echo, a gift blessed to those from the Mother Crystal.” She let Iris process what she had said before continuing “A gift that protect anyone from any tempering from the Eikons. The fact that you went up against Ifrit without getting tempered tells me that you hold such a power. Tell me, have you had any visions?”

“Visions? Yes actually. Very recently in fact. I have been seeing on top of my normal headaches and dizziness.” The Antecedent nodded, though she seemed unsurprised. It was as though she expected her response. “Wait, is this all related somehow?” She asked her.

“Aye, and I have a very important question for you. Would you join us? For we have a need for your power.”

Iris was aghast. She was neither a fighter or an adventurer. Why would she be asked to join, to fight. She hummed at the thought knowing that she couldn’t handle the frontlines like her brother.

“If you are unsure, why don’t you go around and ask those who are around?” Minfillia mentioned. “I’ll have Taturu fetch your clothes. We took the liberty to get them cleaned whiled you rested.” Iris looked at the lalafell that greeted her earlier. Without saying a word she gave Iris a bow as she left to fetch her clothes.

After getting her clothes back on she left the room that she was in. Exploring the space that she now found herself in. At least it seemed like she was still in Thanalan. The stone faced halls lead her to what seemed like a mess hall. She scanned through the room to see who to talk to her. She spotted a red headed man in the corner, looking over a bow. His left eye was covered with an eye patch, which confused her as to why he would have a bow.

“Hey!” she approached him. He looked up from his bow to spot the elezen. He grunted then placed his bow beside him, leaning against the wall. His magenta eye were focused on her, waiting for Iris to continue. “Hey, yeah, well.” She stuttered out as she tries to find the words she whats to say to him. He just continue to stare at her with his arms now crossed over his chest. Iris cleared her throat a bit “Yeah, Sorry to bother you but I need to ask you a few things.”

The nervousness was definitely coming out of her voice as his stone cold look he was giving her wasn’t making it better. “So this whole scions business. What exactly do you do as an adventurer here?”

The adventurer scuffed at her question as though he was annoyed at her. “’Aye, why would you want to ‘now lass? Looking at ye, I can tell you wouldn’t last a day as a Scion.” He looked beyond her. “Oy, Liavinne, I got your bow fixed.” He called out to signal to another elezen woman. She came over, ignoring Iris in the process. The two continued to walk away from Iris.

The dejection hurt Iris. He wasn’t wrong, she knows she shouldn’t be here. She found a seat from the pillar that she was standing next too. She closed her eyes, thinking what now.

Should I even bother? It doesn’t seem like I would fit in and what use would they have for a seamstress.

“A gil for your thoughts?” A deep bass voice called breaking her thoughts. She had turned to the man that just spoke up. He seemed quite young considering that this is an adventuring hall. His bronzed skin was only broken up with a white tattoo X that ran across his face. His blonde hair covered most of his forehead. More noticeably, The man was quite built. Another highlander she thought. Then again, being in Thanalan, she isn’t too shocked based on the information from any of her Thanalanian customers.

“Oh, I’m not quite sure. I just don’t think I really shouldn’t be here. I really should tell Minfilla that I don’t belong here.” She throw her hands in the air before getting up.

“I wouldn’t think that.” He blurted out before she walked away. Iris stopped in her tracks. He continued “Take me for example. I just joined myself. Only been her for two weeks so far. I’m sure if you join you can learn to become one.”

She’d turned back to him. “But you at least had some skilled before coming here right? I’m nothing like that. I’m no adventurer to begin with. I only know a bit of conjury and that is only to help my father out with healing those in need.”

“Oh Conjury, I don’t know a lick of that myself. Come sit, let’s talk a bit more.” He pointed at the chair that was next to him. She sat down “My name is Arenvald. With the mention conjury and being new here, I take it you’re Iris that Thancred had spoke of?” Iris nodded as he continues “I had a feeling. The man that you were talking with was Clive. He can be a bit rough around the edges but a good man.” Arenvald then pointed to the woman that Clive had called over. “And that is Liavinne. I don’t know too much about her, she just joined a day or two now.”

A loud cheer erupted near the entrance of the mess hall. The two turn their attention to there. Seeing both an elezen done in mage clothing and a roedangyn in full on knight’s armor. The crowd that was around them exclaimed “They done it again, Coultenet and Hoary did it again.”

“Ah those two. Hoary Bolder and Coultenet Dailebaure. They have been here for a long time. Probably the longest anyone here outside the founding members. Good folk they are, and definitely someone to have your back when in a fight. One day I hope to be like that.” Arenvald waxed on. Iris can see the appeal that he may have, after all she would figure that an adventurer would love to have the heroics attached to them.

“Say Arenvald, why did you become an adventurer?” She inquired.

He looked on to Iris and gave her a smile. “That’s quite easy, I want to save people. I want to make sure no one would have the life I had growing up.” Arenvald sighs “To find out that I have a gift that help me do that and a group that aligns with my goals and wanting my gift in return is pretty great.”

“I guess that would be wonderful.” Arenvald is a young man but he seems like he knows what he wants in life. “Wait, you mention a gift?”

Arenvald nodded “Aye, the Echo. I heard you also have it. It’s quite useful.” He chuckled.

“So what exactly is it?” She figured he would be able to tell her how he lives with the echo at least.

Arenvald hummed. “Well It’s not too bad. It helps me feel how other’s feel. And talk to animals. I will say though, I heard it’s different for each person.”

“Different?”

Arenvald shrugged. “I don’t know too much on the details, that seems to be Minfillia’s deal. You could possible ask her.”

Iris nodded. “Thank you for the time Arenvald. You have been truly been helpful.” She got up from her seat. “I think I need to talk the Antecedent.” She left the mess hall and started to look for the lalafell that was taking care of her. If she recalled, she was the receptionist of the organization so she figured to check the front desk where ever that may be.

Tataru was at the front desk, as she is normally, organizing the books that were scattered about. Iris approached from the stairs leading up to her. “Tataru, was it?” Iris spoke out. The lalafell jumped, not realizing that their guest had come to visit her. The book that was in her hand had fallen to the floor.

Tataru, sighed and picked up the book. “Yes, I am. I take it you need me?”

Iris nodded. “I think I have sorted out my thoughts. Though I do have a question for you.”

“For me?”

“Why did you join the Scions?”

Tataru paused for a moment. “Why would you want to know that info? I’m just a simple receptionist.”

“That’s exactly why I want to know. I’m not quite the adventurer like the others. I’m just a seamstress after all.”

The lalafell hummed a bit more. “Well.” She paused for a moment. “My family lost a lot of gil back in the day. So much so that I had to take up being Lapidary’s apprentice. It just so happened that I got to meet a certain miner. Minfillia was her name. Became good friends with her. And then one day she told me that she had plans. Plans to make a better Eorzea. And she wanted me to join her to help make it happen.”

“So you been here since the beginning?” Tataru nodded to the Elezen. Iris continued on. “And Minfillia wasn’t an adventurer at all either?”

“If you want you could hear more from Minfillia.”

Iris couldn’t help but think that the scions weren’t all adventurers and most likely they would have the answers see seeks with her echo. “I guess I should.” Tataru nodded and led Iris to the Antecedent.

“Minfilla, our guest wants to speak with you.” Minifilla turn to the two that are in her door way, giving them a nod to enter. Upon entering the Antecedent’s office, Iris had noted that a broken staff was on her wall. She stared onwards curious as to what it’s purpose was.

“I would like to welcome you again, Iris was it?” Minifilla words snapping Iris out of her trance.

“Yes.” Iris cleared her throat to regain control of her thoughts.

Minifilla nodded before she continued on. “Had you the chance to talk to the other adventurers then?”

“I have and to be honest I not sure if I would be the greatest adventurer in your ranks. Though hearing about what the echo can do I may do something and possibly get an answer for it.” Iris looked on to Minfillia, hoping to get a cue as to what she is thinking. She continued. “I'm neither a fighter nor adventurer, just your run-of-the mill seamstress. However, if I can aid those we can yet save then I will.” Again, looking to Minfillia to see what she had say only to be greeted with a smile.

“Of course, we need someone like you in our ranks. The echo is truly a gift that only a few have.” Minfilia moved around her desk. “Let me call everyone in to introduce you’ll work with.”

[naeleys]

CHAPTER 01 — princess rhaenyra of house targaryen

In the year 262 AC, a baby of surpassing beauty was born, destined to carve her name in legend.

Queen Rhaella Targaryen's birthing of her second child was swift, a blessing after the trials of her first. As the maester gently cradled the newborn in his arms, he declared, "It is a girl, Your Grace."

Rhaella's heart momentarily stilled. A girl? King Aerys, her brother-husband, coveted sons above all, a sentiment echoing across a realm steeped in patriarchal tradition, wary still from the War of the Usurper and the earlier Dance of Dragons.

But Rhaella had yearned for a daughter. With tears of joy coursing down her cheeks, she held the babe. "Is she healthy?" she whispered, scarcely glancing up.

"Quite healthy, Your Grace, with a spirited kick," the maester replied.

"And her name?" prompted a handmaiden, sharing in her queen's elation.

Rhaella knew at once what she must call her—a name from the annals of Targaryen greatness, borne by a queen of indomitable spirit.

"Rhaenyra," she murmured tenderly. "Rhaenyra Targaryen—a name fit for one destined for greatness, strong and power."

In that chamber, hearts swelled with affection as they witnessed Rhaella's maternal devotion bloom.

As the doors creaked open, King Aerys entered, accompanied by their firstborn, Rhaegar. "You have a princess, my king," the maester announced, and all bowed as Aerys approached.

Little Rhaegar scampered forward, his eyes wide with wonder at his new sibling. "She's so small," he marveled, peering down at Rhaenyra with awe.

The queen chuckled softly, then glanced anxiously at her husband. Aerys's expression was inscrutable, betraying no disappointment, yet holding no visible joy either. Her heart sank—would he not embrace their daughter as he had their son?

Suddenly, a smile cracked across Aerys's face, dispelling their fears. A collective sigh of relief swept through the room as he extended his arms.

"What name have you chosen?" he inquired, his voice gentle as he cradled the infant.

"Rhaenyra Targaryen," Rhaella replied, her relief palpable. "A name of power and beauty."

"Perfect," Aerys murmured, gazing at his daughter with a father's tenderness. Turning to Rhaella, he added, "She possesses your beauty."

Then, addressing his children, he continued, "Rhaenyra, I am your father." The baby gazed up at him, and a smile curved her lips—a true scion of House Targaryen, with pale skin, silvery hair, and eyes of lilac.

"And this is your brother, Rhaegar," Aerys went on, adjusting so Rhaegar could better see. "He will protect you, as will we all."

Rhaegar beamed with pride, eager to embrace his role.

"Princess Rhaenyra of House Targaryen," the King proclaimed with joy, as if he already sensed the weight of destiny upon his daughter’s shoulders.

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