#she is not important to the plot and is never mentioned again (i searched the rest of the book for her name)

[kareenvorbarra]

read the beginning of a popular book out of curiosity and something happened in the first few pages that made me realize it might be least For Me book ever written

[theeveninghour]

All My Dreaming

Summary: You came to the Night Court as a fugitive and quickly became a valued member of the Inner Circle. Azriel’s love for you has burned brightly in his chest for nearly two centuries now, but when an unknown force threatens to take you from him, he must fight to keep you at his side.

Pairing: Azriel x Winter Court!Reader

A/N: I don’t use Y/N here just out of personal preference, but the IC do call reader “Little One” because she’s younger than them by like a century or so. Also, slight timeline deviation? I kind of just made the ACOTAR timeline work for me a little bit but the important bits are there mostly. If it’s not totally accurate, please suspend your disbelief and go with it. I also took some serious liberties with Prythian geography and Azriel’s shadows in this. I had to force myself to stop because I could’ve written five more scenes, so let me know if you all want a part two. I got nasty Azriel thots to spare, baby! 

WC: 16.1k  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TW: 18+, Minors DNI, violence, death, descriptive gore, lots of time jumps, torture, smut, p in v, fingering, porn with plot, mating, slow burn, angst, friends to lovers, declarations of love, loving sexy times, miscommunications abound, Azriel being a big ole softie, Azriel being a big ole bitch to bad men, Azriel really going tf thru it emotionally, and Azriel being mouthy as fuck. Just girly things. 

Part 2

Azriel hadn’t seen you in four days. Nearly a week had passed since you’d left. Rhys mentioned a mission but no additional details, Cassian avoided the topic, knowing how frustrated his brother got when you were gone, and Feyre was decidedly unhelpful the few times he’d brought you up. His shadows searched aimlessly, they’d found nothing as far south as Winter Court, daring not venture into Autumn, and knowing damn well you’d never step foot into Spring. You were slowly driving him mad; the bond in his chest aching at the loss. Even if you hadn’t recognized the golden thread linking the two of you, he felt it. 

Gods, did he feel it. He’d often lay in his bed at night, eyes tracing the intricate foil patterns of the ceiling tiles. When sleep evaded him, as it frequently did, he’d grasp the thread tightly in his minds eye and tug it experimentally, begging you to see, to notice it was him that loved you with a ferocity that rivaled the sun. Try as he might, the responding tug never answered, his call into the void not returning an echo. 

The second it snapped for him, Azriel had resolved himself as unworthy, not of someone like you. You were powerful, breathtakingly beautiful, intimidatingly intelligent, and you regularly brought men to their knees, both in political circles and on the battlefield. Rhys relied on you as much he did Cassian and Az, you were a core member of his court, a valuable asset, and the love of Azriel’s life. Azriel avoided the latter subject entirely, choosing instead to silently stoke the ember in chest with unyielding affection; his own private paramour. 

When you’d joined the Night Court, you’d been on the run from both Winter and Autumn Courts. Your father was a high fae noble in Winter that had attempted to arrange a marriage to the second youngest Vanserra of Autumn. The family’s brutal reputation was legend and you were terrified. You were young then, barely a century old, and upon your introductory visit to the Autumn Court, Beron sought to make an impression by presenting a welcome gift. That gift? The public torture and execution of a servant he’d deemed traitorous. 

His gleaming eyes remained on yours with each cast of the fire whip he’d conjured using his cruel magic. He’d cracked it again and again until blood splattered and the servant was left flayed beyond recognition, flesh searing, and finger tips twitching from the remaining neurons firing in his brain. Only after his death did Beron announce his crimes. He’d stolen a parcel of food from the royal pantry to feed his wife and small child. Your stomach churned at the thought of the now widow and fatherless child waiting at home for the male that would never return. 

It had all been a test to see if you were worthy of the most violent and petulant of the broody sons, and you’d passed, holding Beron’s stare and keeping your back straight as you faced his wrath head on. You’d cried yourself dry in your room that night though, sobs wracking your form until your chest ached, grief for the male that was lost. Fear settled into your heart, terror of the family you were set to marry into. 

You’d ran at first light, leaving with nothing but the clothes on your back. Your Winter white blonde hair streaking across the red and orange forest as you bolted. Beron sent his dogs after you. You still had the scars lining your calves from where they’d gotten too close, brought you down into the dirt, jaws snapping and tearing at the muscly sinew there. But you’d fought. You’d kicked and clawed like a feral child of the woods, screaming with a sense of self preservation you’d never known you possessed. 

Rhysand had found you half dead, starving and a little savage in the mountainous border between the Day and Night Courts. He’d made a bargain with you then; he’d save you, if you worked for him. Word had already spread of the ousted Winter female and spurned Autumn princeling and Rhysand was impressed you’d lasted in the wilds undetected for so long. The small star flecked tattoo of the Velarian night sky that lived on your wrist since was the only evidence of his deal. 

You’d long moved past such a bargain. Rhys had offered to lift it half a dozen times in your first hundred years within his court, but you hadn’t minded. A reminder, you’d insisted, a mark of your loyalty to the family that didn’t lead you the wolves with such glee. 

You’d settled into a routine in Velaris, training with the Illyrian brothers and charming Amren with your intelligence and wit.  But you’d become the closest with Mor, who felt a kinship in your shared traumas. She’d soothed you in those first years, fiercely protecting her friend when Eris Vanserra had shown up in Hewn City as an emissary to inquire on your new position in the Night Court. It was that same night that Azriel realized how fucked he truly was.

Eris smirked at you and your back straightened, face growing cold. He spoke, “My brother was wondering where you’d scampered off to.” A laugh followed, “You couldn’t stomach our court, but found yourself bound to the Court of Nightmares? My my, what a wicked turn of events.” 

Rhysand had spoken then, wearing his High Lord mask well, “Watch yourself, Eris. You know not what our Little One can do.” Eris laughed, the sound laced with the dark spark of a threat. “Little One? Fugitive and Night Court whore, I must tell your father. I’m sure he’ll be proud to hear of his daughter’s fate.” Azriel’s wings pricked, then fluttered, he would’ve killed Eris right then for you. Your hand came to rest on Rhys’ arm as you stepped around the throne to level your accuser with a look that should’ve turned him to stone. 

“I am no male’s whore and I belong to no court except Night. Report what you wish to my father, to your father, your brother. May you all rot.” You’d spat at his feet then, and the room heated twenty degrees, Eris’ barely kept rage simmering under the surface, fire blooming on the fringes of his figure. 

He stepped forward and Cassian, Azriel, and Mor all shifted, prepared to take out the threat. Eris’ eyes tracked their figures, gauging the situation. He knew better. Any attack here would mean war on his court and his father have his hide for that. You stepped forward to meet him, knowing he could make no move without endangering his position. You kept your spine straight and narrowed your gaze at him with such contempt he would’ve been impressed at the show had you been anyone else. 

“I will say this once Eris Vanserra,” you held up one long manicured finger, and Azriel traced the action with thinly veiled obsession. “Leave my court or I will be the one to kill you. I’ll rip your spine from your body and I’ll do it with the same glee in which your father,” you’d spat that word, the hatred you held for Beron burning your throat as the words exited your mouth, “killed that male for feeding his family.” You took a step closer, summoning a dagger in your left hand, and rolling it your palm. “Trust that we have no tolerance for your family or your bullshit in these lands.” 

Eris had good enough sense to step back then, peering around your form to where Rhysand sat, legs spread, slouched in the throne, smirking at your display of dominance. Azriel to his right looked on in pure male satisfaction, you were a powerful little thing and he was rather fond of you in that moment. Eris spoke up, “Should I note that the Night Court threatens other Courts for sport?” Cassian and Azriel rolled their eyes in synchronous fashion, but it was Mor that spoke with the dark edge of a threat, “Only ones that deserve such brutality.” Her father, Kier, stood in the gathered crowd and sneered at the tone of her voice.

You’d done the unthinkable then, winnowing behind Eris, grasping the male by his red hair and dragging the dagger to his neck, digging in enough to cause the male’s heart to speed, a line of scarlet leaking from the press of your blade. You could feel the heat in his skin, the flame licked at your hand as you released him with a shove. 

You brandished your dagger as if it was an extension of your hand, the tip of the silver blade glinting with red from the now healing cut at Eris’ throat. “Come for me again and I’ll kill you.” It was then that Azriel noted the slight tremble in the hand at your right side and he wished on some distant star that he could reach out to you, soothe you, tell you that he was proud and you defended yourself and your court beautifully. 

As if his wish was granted, he felt his chest give way to a canyon of emotion, heart stuttering as the bond fluttered and snapped, thrumming with affection for the female standing at the center of the room. He had selfishly allowed himself to hope it would be you, in the dark of the night when he was alone and his shadows whispered to him of your whereabouts. Since he’d met you, he fostered that small romantic notion of soulmates. His most private desire. 

Eris whirled on you with a roar, grabbing your throat with hands of fire. Azriel felt the breath leave him, and he took two then three steps forward before he could think, hazel eyes alight with a fierceness you’d not yet witnessed. Your eyes found his and you held up your hand to halt his movements, the one that had trembled seconds earlier, now steady as a stone. You’d looked at Eris then, raising your chin defiantly, a slow smile overtaking your face as you once again spit at the Autumn male before winnowing back to your place in front of the dais. Rhysand raised to his feet then, taking steps down to meet you. His hand grazed your arm this time and his mind reached out, “Very good, Little One, very good.” 

“As the lady said, Eris, come to my court in search of her again, and she’ll be the one to kill you.” Rhys circled Eris, tracking like prey. “But not before I sanction it for laying your hands on a member of my house.” Rhysand spoke with such quiet cunning, it was no wonder he excelled as High Lord. Eris snarled then before winnowing out of the Hewn City and Azriel quickly set his shadows to following him, ensuring he was actually gone. 

You returned to Mor’s side and the shameless pride that set on your face the rest of the night made Azriel want to kiss you. Gods, he was fucked.. 

You’d flirted with him constantly in the first century you’d been in Velaris. You had laid it on thick too, dragging a long nail up his arm, your mouth sliding into a smirk after one too many drinks at Rita’s. Azriel had always feigned friendly indifference though, a mask he slipped on that was equal parts protection as it was self soothing. His only crack coming in the form of a slight tremble in his pinky as he tried to gather himself to avoid closing the space between you, touching, grasping, feeling.

He’d worn black leather gloves around you in your first few decades with them. His hands always held the most insecurity for him, the silver scars and warped skin a brutal reminder of his childhood. It was after training one day, as you all packed your small bags and threw towels into bins that you’d asked about it. 

“I don’t mean to pry, and feel free to tell me to fuck off, but why the gloves?” You asked quietly leaning against a wall less than ten feet from him. He’d stiffened and breathed tightly, “it helps with the work.” That had always been his excuse, wearing gloves when killing helped reduce the touch memories associated with the act, and it was partially true. But he wasn’t on a mission right now, and you called him on that, “are you spying right now?” Your lips quirked, “should I tell Rhys?” Your words were mirthful, but your eyes held nothing but empathy for the Shadowsinger, sometimes Azriel wondered if that was your Cauldron blessed gift. 

You’d reached down then, rolling up the left leg of your training leathers. You’d resumed your full height and rotated your calf outward for his eyes to survey the damage there. Ragged silver keloid scars marked the skin from your ankle to the soft back of your knee— a knee he’d admittedly fantasized about many nights in a row now. He’d selfishly thought about trailing kisses up your leg, pausing to nip playfully at the soft skin at your knee as he made his way north, up your thigh. He breathed deeply banishing those thoughts as he took in the site of your marred skin. Judging by the heavily keratinized markings, the injury had no doubt been painful when incurred originally. Azriel’s fingers twitched again, wanting to touch your face, hold you as he kissed away your grief. 

“From Beron’s dogs,” you breathed, rolling you shoulders, as if shaking the memory from your mind. “They wouldn’t heal when I was out there,” you clicked your tongue, “granted I was starving,” you sighed, “but that’s a story for another day.” You looked at him then, and he had to steady himself at the emotions pooling in your eyes. 

He’d already planned on killing Beron if the opportunity presented for what had happened with Mor, but for you, he’d make it hurt. He’d drag it out and make it slow. He’d torture him for days, flaying skin from bone, taking fingers then limbs and when at last he begged for death, Azriel would set the dogs on him and laugh as they tore him apart. He felt a long repressed need for vengeance creep up his spine, and he hated to acknowledge what its presence meant in regards to you.

“It’s okay, you know,” you’d said, head lolling to the side as you watched him, eyes swimming with a gentle affection, “I’ll never judge you for something like that.” Azriel squeezed his eyes shut as he turned his head from you and breathed in tightly. How did always manage to be so fucking disarming and vulnerable? That must’ve been a gift too.

He pinched the middle finger of the right glove and pulled it from his hand, grasping his now exposed fingers into a fist, knuckles cracking. He extended that arm out, palm up as he let you view his deepest insecurity, the thing he hated most in his appearance. 

You’d stepped forward, looking at his palm. Your hands went to reach but you’d paused, looking to his eyes as you silently asked permission to touch. He nodded stiffly, watching you with the same intensity of an animal being hunted, prey ready to bolt at any moment. 

Your fingers touched his hand, and he felt the connection race up his arm and to his chest, settling in his heart. Your eyes studied, and you rotated his hand, fingers gently tracing from his wrist, to knuckle, to fingernail in reverence. You covered his hand with your own, moving your eyes to his hazel ones. “Are they dead?” You’d asked seriously, and he stuttered a shocked laugh. “Yes, Little One, they are,” he answered, a small smile playing at his mouth. The two of you far too similar it seemed. “Good,” you’d said simply before kissing his knuckles and pulling the glove back on for him. The action was quietly intimate, and Azriel should’ve kissed you then. Mother knows he considered it, eyes watching you with rapt attention as his heart sped up and breathing shallowed. 

“If you two are done flirting, lunch is ready,” Cassian announced from the doorway, breaking the spell you were both under. You’d jumped and laughed freely at the large male smirking at the entrance. You grasped Azriel’s hand tightly in affection before releasing it to turn on your heel to exit the room, passing by Cass with an eye roll, thumping him square in the chest.

Cassian looked to his brother as he walked into the room and his face split into a shit eating grin. “Let’s go, loverboy,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. Azriel glared, scoffing as he followed behind you, praying to whatever Gods were listening that he’d get you alone again soon. 

In your second century with the Night Court, you’d lessened the blatant flirting and settled into loving, easy friendship. You regularly attended balls and galas in Hewn City, fitting into such pomp with practiced ease, but always with a dagger strapped to your thigh, ready to cut a male down in seconds. Those events were almost routine at this point: Azriel would save you a dance, and you’d move together in a slow ritual that you’d both perfected over the years, he’d bow as the violinist played their final note and resume his place on dais at Rhys’ right. His eyes would follow you the rest of the night, as you spoke in an airy manner to various high fae, glaring at any male whose hands ventured too close to his mate. 

Nights when the Court held parties at the House of Wind were different though. You were far less rigid, finding it easy to exist without scrutiny. Those were the nights Azriel’s eyes rarely left your form as he watched obsessively from the corners of the room. 

“You’re staring,” Rhys chimed from his place next to Azriel, eyes not leaving the crowd as he spoke to the Shadowsinger, mouth smirking. Azriel was staring. You’d worn cobalt blue tonight, a lovely color on your skin. His color on your skin. Mother above, the male possessiveness that crawled up his spine was unreal. Mate, mate, mate, his shadows had sang in his ear. He wanted to pluck the eyes from every male in the room for even glancing in your direction. He wanted so much more than that too. Your breathy sighs as he marked you, your moan as he made you come undone, his name crying from your lips as he ate his come from your cunt after. Azriel had a million and one scenarios running through his head. He yearned to make each one of them come to fruition too.

He hadn’t answered Rhysand, so the High Lord tried again, “you really should tell her, but please,” Rhys closed his eyes with a grimace, “quiet your thoughts first, for Cauldron’s sake.” That got Azriel’s attention, his back straightening and mental shield slamming down. His eyes squeezed shut, almost as if he was in pain. “I cannot burden her with that now,” he said, “not with war at our doorstep.” Indeed, the second war with Hybern creeped ever closer, disappearances of other high fae occurring daily. Whatever they were planning across the sea, it was going to bring Prythian to its knees. 

Rhysand sighed then, feeling older than his 500 years. “Be that as it may, we should hold those we love tighter.” Rhysand looked to Feyre at that moment, his eyes meeting his mate’s, as he sent a strum of warm affection down the bond. She smiled and returned it cheerily. He turned back to Azriel, “if it all ends tomorrow, I know my love and she knows me. That’s all we can ask for in this immortal life.” Azriel looked back to you, and your eyes were already on him, tracing the shadows that wound around his chest. You met his eyes and winked, before turning back to Mor and laughing freely.  

“I thank the Cauldron daily it was you that found her in those mountains, Rhys.” Azriel spoke quietly, admitting a small secret he’d not told anyone. Rhysand softened, and clapped his friend on the shoulder, “As I am, brother.” Azriel nodded, letting the conversation die between himself and the High Lord as he drained the drink in his hand and moved down the steps in your direction. 

You’d been in conversation with Mor when he approached. She was telling you of the seamstress she’d been seeing, and how happy she was. Azriel cleared his throat from behind the two of you and you turned to meet him, taking in his appearance with wide eyes. “Ladies,” he started, bowing to you and Mor, who snorted at the silly formality. “And that note, I’ll be taking my leave. I’ve got a lady to see,” she said with a wink and a flourish of her red dress. You laughed and shook your head before turning back to the Shadowsinger. He’d caught you staring earlier and your heart had nearly jumped into your throat, before Mor mocked you lightly, diffusing the tension. 

“Hi Az,” you greeted softly, before dropping your empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray and thanking them. Azriel watched you closely, noting the revealed skin that shifted with each movement, committing every angle and freckle to memory.

“You want to get out of here?” He dared ask, jerking his head toward the private balcony on the House of Wind. You raised a brow, Azriel? Asking you to leave? Together? You heart was back in your throat and you thanked the Mother that you’d taken your time getting ready that evening. Nodding, you grasped his arm as he offered it to you like a proper courtier. He walked the two of you up a round of stairs and away from the eyes he’d threatened earlier in the night. Voices dulled the more space you put between yourselves and them and you couldn’t help but start to sweat a bit at the thought of being alone with Azriel. 

You’d been friends for nearly two centuries, but you’d always felt a connection with the male. Your heart thrummed with a warm, golden affection when he got close. It made keeping a clear head during training hard. It made sitting next to him at dinner difficult. And when he’d looked at you like you hung the moon as you danced earlier in the night, it made you want to take him to bed and ride him until he moaned your name. You breathed deeply. ‘Focus,’ you chided yourself, ‘he is your friend, for Cauldron’s sake.’

He led you out onto to the balcony and stopped at the railing before looking up at the star flecked sky. “This is my favorite part of the House,” he said eyes scanning the sky before looking back to you as you watched him. A blush crept up his neck, before he cleared his throat again. 

“I’ve always wondered what it was like to be able to fly, you know,” you said quietly, removing your hand from his arm, rolling up onto your toes, leaning against the stone railing, and looking out on Velaris before scanning your eyes up to the three stars that shone brightly overhead. “When I was a child, I met a Peregryn from the Dawn Court and thought she had the most beautiful wings I’d ever seen.” You chanced a glance his way, “I’d not met an Illyrian yet.” You reminded with a smirk, bumping his arm with fondness. Gods, he was in trouble.

“I asked her what it was like and she said it was the purest sense of freedom possible.” You glanced down at your feet, “I spent the next year wishing for wings.”  He mulled on your words. He wanted to say something cheesy as Cassian would, like ‘I’ll be your wings’ but he couldn’t, so you continued on. 

“When I was a little older, I witnessed a blue skinned lesser fae’s wings ripped from his body as punishment and it was the most gruesome thing I’d seen at that point.” You took a shuddering breath, “I cried for him that night. The lost freedom. How maddening it must’ve been.” You looked at him then and he watched you with furrowed brows. “How does it feel for you?” You asked softly, eyes tracing the shine of his wing. ‘Magnificent things,’ you thought. You remembered seeing his wings for the first time and thinking the Peregryn had finally moved to second place in your mind. 

Azriel had to gather himself as he spoke, “It’s… everything.” He said quietly adjusting his body to extend a wing. “My ability to fly came in late,” he said, and your eyes widened, you hadn’t known that. “My childhood was… rough and I didn’t learn to fly until I was nearly grown.” He laughed, scuffing the toe of his boot, wings folding in behind him. “It was a lot of crash landings those first months.” You snorted, mental image of a younger Az, landing in a puddle of mud crossing your mind. 

“I was never a proud Illyrian, not like the others,” he continued, “it was hard for me to reconcile my heritage and our traditions.” He looked to the cityscape then, “but the stronger I got, the more I understood why flight was so crucial to my people.” He looked to you, eyes shining, “it’s the closest we can get to the stars.” 

You leaned over the railing again, staring wistfully at the night sky, the moon reflecting on your skin. “Will you take me someday? Flying, I mean.” Did you not know Azriel would give you the world? Of course he’d take you flying. He’d give you the moon, the stars, walk through fire and back, anything. He nodded, “you say the word, and I’ll fly you the the ocean and back.” The smile that broke across your face crippled him, his knees threatened to give way. 

“Yours are my favorite,” you murmured softly, eyes glancing from his wings to his face. Azriel blushed in full, pink speckling his neck and cheeks as he laughed. “Don’t let Cass hear you say that, he’s got an ego,” he said, a smile remaining at his lips. You liked him like this the most. Loose, smiling, free. You reached up then, cupping his reddened cheek, thumb stroking. “I don’t care,” you said smiling, “it’s the truth.” Azriel swallowed roughly, staring at your eyes swimming with an emotion he knew, but was much too stubborn and scared to name.

Just as your hand went to retreat, he grasped it between his own. “You can touch them,” he offered, knowing damn well the implications, “if you want,” he added. Your eyes widened. Mor had mentioned once that Illyrian’s wings were ‘sensitive,’ was the word she’d used. It was a sign of great intimacy and trust to allow another to touch them. You felt the air shift between you two then, as you nodded.

He extended a wing toward you. This felt so much like the first time he’d shown you his hands all those years ago. Your hand crept forward and gentle fingers met the red gold membrane that stretched between two metacarpals. Your fingers traced the membrane in smooth circles, then traced up to the crest. Azriel felt his breath gutter out of his mouth in a loud, choppy exhale, and he felt himself harden at the sensation of your fingers against the most sensitive portion of his wings. You gasped and jerked away at the sudden noise, before apologizing. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten carried away.” 

Azriel shook his head, “It’s not that, they’re sensitive.” There was that word again, only it made you think of how they’d been shredded before the King of Hybern, and you opened your mouth to apologize again, but he stopped you short. “I haven’t allowed another to touch them freely since my mother.” The admission floored you, your gut giving way with a breath.

You looked to his eyes then, the air between you had shifted again and you knew this was it. This was the moment you’d waited for, he was going to kiss you. Mother, it felt you’d waited a millennia, and he felt just the same. But that kiss never came. Instead, Azriel went stock still, his eyes now on the House behind you. 

“Azriel?” You questioned. “It’s Rhys,” he said tightly, “he’s summoning me.” You understood then. He looked to you desperately, eyes a little wild and apologetic. “I’m sorry, I have to go to him.” You nodded, you both worked for the High Lord, you’d never get in the way of Azriel’s allegiance to his Court. “Of course,” you said quietly, taking a step back and swallowing down your disappointment. 

Azriel took three steps towards the entrance then stopped. “I’ll take you,” he turned around, backing his way to the arched stone, but keeping his eyes on you for a moment longer. “When I get back, I’ll take you flying,” he offered. Another smile etched its way across your face and Azriel took a long moment to memorize it greedily. “It’s a date,” you said confidently. He beamed then, turning on a heel to pick up into a jog, Rhys no doubt shouting to hurry up. 

That date hadn’t happened though. The second war with Hybern broke out days later and you both barely made it out alive. 

When Feyre had come to Velaris after Amarantha’s defeat, you’d accepted her with easy friendship. You saw Rhysand, your longtime friend, overcome with love for his newly found mate, and you couldn’t help but love her as well. You’d shared your story with her and the two of you bonded deeply over her art. She’d offered to teach you to paint, and you began taking lessons in your off time. Rhys had been Cauldron blessed with her and you reminded him daily. 

Later, when Feyre’s sisters joined their little unit, you’d been the first one to break Nesta’s tough exterior. The female saw parts of herself in you and you’d gotten her to crack a smile when you mocked Rhys’ High Lord voice at dinner one night. Elain had been a tougher sell, but you’d tried, along with Azriel, to bring the female out of her shell. The day she joined you in the library to read, you knew progress had been made, even if you two had only sat in silence a few feet apart, a small smile gracing her features. 

You left her book recommendations with small notes and she began to do the same. Your friendship playing out in the margins of the library’s tomes. You won her over with silent conversation. Nesta noticed, of course, and she looked to you with gratitude as she saw her sister’s eyes brightened and skin began to return to its normal, healthy color. The night Azriel mentioned it as you walked down the hall toward the dining room for the family meal, you’d shrugged. “I met her where she needed me to,” you’d said quietly, glancing to your feet. Azriel smiled, a Cauldron blessed gift indeed. 

Dinners at the House of Wind were by far Azriel’s favorite version of you. You’d laugh with abandon, smile splitting your face, showing every tooth as Mor cracked a joke and leaned against you for support, one too many drinks in her system. The first time he’d seen that smile, it blinded him, and he’d gone a little dazed, staring at you in wonderment. Rhys had interrupted his train of thought with an invasive insertion of “How quickly she reduced you to a puddle, brother.” Azriel had scowled at Rhys then, mental shields firming up, but not before he heard the distinct sound of his High Lord laughing at the Spymaster’s defensiveness. 

Indeed Azriel was gone for you. When Cassian finally confronted him last year about the truth of his feelings, Azriel saw no point to avoid it any longer, not after his brothers had also found their mates. “Our souls are one in the same, she’s my mate,” he’d said pensively, as if he was letting his deepest secret breath in the light for the first time in centuries. Maybe he was. He’d made Cassian promise on his life not to tell anyone, and despite being the biggest gossip in the Inner Circle, he kept his promise. He was thrilled for his brother, knowing you were the perfect match.

Little did Azriel know, everyone else was already more than aware of his affections. Amren had figured it out a century prior when Azriel had tended your needs as you’d recovered from an injury sustained during a mission. He’d fretted around you like a mother hen, buying you flowers, sweets, and books while you were bedridden. The female had watched and hummed with a raised eyebrow as Azriel exited your room for the fifth time in one day, wringing his hands with worry despite Madja’s clean bill of health.

Feyre had figured it out the same year she’d returned from the Spring Court, just before the second war with Hybern. She’d seen the way his eyes had followed you in the war room Rhys had created to host strategy meetings. Saw him lean towards you when you spoke, saw his wings flutter when you finally cast your gaze to him, eager for your attention. More than anything, she’d seen his shadows, desperate little things, sneaking across the floor each night, sidling up your ankles and wrists, begging for your affection. You always laughed and nuzzled them as the wound their way to your hair and Azriel went a little soft at the sight. 

When she told Mor, the blonde had laughed, “They’ve been circling each for two hundred years now, eventually one of them will cave.” Mor leveled a sardonic look at Feyre then, “and when they do, we’ll all have to relocate to the River House for a year lest we be subject to the frenzy.”

This mission should’ve been simple. Rhys had asked you to check out reports of rogue soldiers spotted making their way towards the border of the Night Court from the Day coastline. The intel he’d received had mentioned three to four maximum, all of them drunken ex-Hybern loyalists. It should’ve been a matter of locating them, spying for a day or two, then winnowing in to neutralize any threat. Gods, this was far from simple. 

When you’d arrived in the region, the hairs on your neck rose, the air itself feeling off. As you tracked them, you’d noticed intentional attempts to throw you off course. A carelessly trashed map, crudely laid tracks in the opposite direction, Dawn Court wine bottles that had been emptied and tossed about. They knew you were there, and you quickly realized that a trap had been laid. You backed off them then, staying further than you’d have liked, but trying like hell to make them think you’d given up. 

On your fourth night following them, you’d drifted away to an inn two towns over, desperately seeking a place to bathe and rest, even for a few hours. As you bathed, you felt watched in a way that discomfited you to your core, and your dagger stayed within arms reach the rest of the night. Suddenly, the role you’d played for the last two hundred years had left you entirely ill equipped for whatever was happening here. 

You’d left out before dawn, refusing to lose an ounce of daylight, but as you hit the tree line, readying yourself to winnow out, you’d noticed it. Hanging from a tree, a hundred yards away was a piece of clothing, your clothing. Clothing that should’ve been in the pack at your back. Your breath shuttered out of you as you opened your mind to Rhys, asking for back up. You were in over your head and you knew when to admit it. There was no pride in getting yourself killed. 

As you turned to move back to the inn where you could wait out contact from Rhys in a public location, you were met with a pair of shining blue eyes. You stepped back, keeping your grounding, readying for a fight. “You’ve been following us,” the stranger said calmly, beginning to trek in a slow circle around you. You opened your mind to Rhys again, “Help,” you called. Rhys answered this time, “Where are you?!” It was a frantic response, you never asked for help, Rhys knew this. “Just off the coast, beneath the mountain range, Day court border, 400 hundred paces from the inn” you spoke to Rhys in choppy thoughts, trying to establish a location before all hell broke loose. 

“I have,” you finally answered the stranger, whose lips quirked at your voice. He stopped circling and resumed his stance in front of you, blocking passage to the inn. “Why?” He asked and you tried to keep your mind steady as you answered. “You’re trespassers in these lands” you stated simply, shrugging a shoulder up. He grinned then, “had your lot not gotten in the way of our King’s plans, these would be our lands. We were promised them. I was personally promised the Court of Nightmares.”

“Well,” you shrugged feigning indifference, “that’s not how the war played out, so I will have to ask you to leave,” you offered in your most bored political tone. The same tone you’d used with High Fae that ran off at the mouth in Hewn City. The stranger cocked his head the side then, eyes twinkling, “I don’t think I will.” At that moment, one by one, additional soldiers appeared from the forest line. One, then four, then ten, until near twenty stood around you, looking on with hatred. 

Shit. 

“We’d hoped for the Illyrians, but it seems your High Lord sent us a treat instead,” the stranger said with mirth. You steeled your spine, looking down your nose at the stranger, “They’re going to kill you, you know.” He’d laughed at your threat. “I think not,” he said as as arrow was released from your left, finding purchase in your shoulder. You folded over on yourself at the blow, and looked up baring your teeth, before drawing your dagger and rushing the stranger with a feral sound.

Five more arrows hit you before your blade could find its target. One into your hip, two in your back, a fourth piercing your in your upper thigh, until the last burrowed into the back of your knee, bringing you down in front of him — forcing you to bow to the stranger. The arrows were laced with faebane you realized as you’d begun to feel its effects in your blood. Your power waning quickly, thoughts becoming murky. 

You released another shattered thought to Rhys then, “Tell him, please,” you begged raggedly. Rhysand came back with a rushed and tight, “Hold on, Little One, we’re coming.” You shook your head, there wasn’t time. “Tell Azriel I love him if I don’t make it, Rhys, promise me.” He responded but it muddled out, sounding like words shouted through a pool of water, then your brain fell quiet. The line severed. 

The stranger lifted your head, hand wrapped around your throat, as he bent to meet your crouched form. “I’ll be sure to savor this,” he smiled and the hilt of his sword came in fierce contact with your forehead. 

It was the early morning on your fifth day away when Rhys heard you. “Help,” it had come through so clearly that it startled Rhys awake and set his heart to racing. You’d only asked for help once, during the war when you were overrun and near death. You were in danger.

He’d sat up straight in bed, Feyre still sleeping silently at his side, hand resting on her pregnant stomach. “Where are you?!” He’d asked down the line, a little frantic, remembering the state he and Azriel had found you in last time. Gods, you’d been run through on a Hybern soldier’s sword, the damage was astronomical. Azriel had nearly killed everyone within a mile radius at the sight of you.

You recited your location in short bursts and Rhys focused on the bond of your bargain, using it to locate you with more precision. He reached out to Azriel then, “Get Cassian and meet me downstairs. Be ready to fly.” Azriel responded an affirmative and Rhys rushed around his room, grabbing his dagger lined belt, and using his magic to dress in his leathers quickly. He winnowed to the base of the stairs and was glad to find Cassian and Azriel waiting. 

“Tell him, please” you begged into Rhys’ mind then, words growing ragged. Rhys’ eyes slammed shut with a wince and he attempted to reassure you, “Hold on, Little One, we’re coming.” Rhys opened his eyes and looked to Azriel, who was watching him with anticipation. You responded again, words growing murkier, a little warbled. “Tell Azriel I love him if I don’t make it, Rhys, promise me.” Rhysand felt sick. “We will find you and you will tell him yourself,” he spoke but the bond was dead, silent, foreboding. Rhys thought he might vomit. 

He looked to Azriel again, “It’s her. She’s in trouble. We have to go.” Azriel’s face darkened with a thunderous ferocity. Mother help the males who’d harmed you. “Where?” He asked, voice deep with the threat of murderous violence. “The wilds on the border, off the coast of Day. I’ll winnow us as close as possible.” Azriel nodded his acquiesce and lifted a trembling hand to his hair, running scarred fingers through the strands. Cassian spoke then, “we will get her back,” he’d said softly as Rhysand put his hands to the two of them, preparing for the jump. “And we will kill every last one of them,” Cassian added darkly as blue-black shadows encased them and they disappeared. 

You awoke with a start, gasping like you’d been underwater. Your shoulders ached from your position. You pulled on your hands only to realize you were shackled to a tree somewhere deep in the forest, the same forest you’d been on the outskirts of earlier. You looked up to the sky, trying to find the sun to gauge how much time had passed. The sun had long moved past midday and was sinking towards the evening horizon. Your throat tightened. Where was Rhysand? 

“Nice of you to join us,” a voice spoke. It was the stranger again, he emerged from the camp set two hundred paces to your left, hidden by shrubs and underbrush. You got a good look at him this time. He was tall, leanly muscular in a way that reminded you of Lucien Vanserra. His hair was a dishwater blonde and lacked any sheen, falling in choppy dry waves around his shoulders. His face was gaunt, eyes sunken, bruised with a lack of rest, and his cheekbones were sharp, giving his face an angle that made him look harsh and unforgiving. Though he carried himself with confidence, you noticed a slight, barely there limp in his right leg, an old wound perhaps, one that never healed correctly. You noted that for later, if you ever got out of these shackles. 

You leveled a glare at him that you hoped looked more fearsome than you felt. Mother, your bones ached and your wounds throbbed. “I left the arrows in, but broke off the shaft. Didn’t want to have you healing too quickly.” He spoke with nonchalance, while polishing a dagger, your dagger, you realized as your eyes focused. You pulled at the shackles above your head, and the stranger chuckled at your attempt. 

“What do you want?” Your voice croaked, mouth dry from disuse. The stranger laughed, pointing the blade at you, “I want my fucking court and you’re the key to getting it.” You shook your head then, “I am nothing.” The words sounded foreign on your tongue, a lie on some level, you knew this, but you would be damned before you gave up your family. The stranger clicked his tongue at your response, shaking his head. 

“Surely you don’t believe that? The High Lord doesn’t trust easily, you’ve been seen with his entourage. The Shadowsinger’s whore.” He squatted a few feet from you, eyes tracing from your tied hands down to your face, pausing at your breasts, before trekking down your stomach, thighs, and calves. He was sizing up how much fight you had left.

Your brain had short circuited though, the Shadowsinger’s whore. Mother above, you’d never even kissed. How long had this male watched you and your family? How had none of you seen it? A bitter laugh wretched from your lungs, “sorry to disappoint, but the Shadowsinger isn’t mine.” No matter how desperately I’ve wished it so, you added silently. 

The stranger grinned then, “if you are truly nothing, then I’ll make this a little sweeter.” He took steps towards you, raising the dagger to rest at your chin, the blade pressing to the underside painfully. “You’re far too pretty to be nothing.” He ran the blade along the column of your throat, resting it against your sternum, between your breasts. You pushed yourself further into the tree, back protesting as the arrows burrowed deeper with the movement. You didn’t like the new angle this interaction had taken and your fight or flight instincts were screaming. 

You attempted to reach out to Rhysand, but the bond was dead silent. Your breathing hitched at the realization that you were truly alone in this. The stranger chuckled, dragging the blade down your chest, slicing the leathers, letting the fabric fall open and reveal your undergarments to his greedy view. Your legs moved to kick, but you realized quickly they too were tied. The blade came to rest at your bare stomach, and the stranger dug it in below the navel, causing blood to pool there. You winced, but made no sound. 

“Ah, I was hoping you’d be louder than that,” the stranger smirked, “I’ll have to try harder.” He backed up then and pulled a whip from his back pocket, unfurling it with a crack. Your eyes widened and you brain went silent, fear overtaking your senses. “There it is,” his smile gleamed with violent delight, “there’s the reaction I was hoping for.” He reared an arm back before cracking the whip in your direction. The leather made contact with your torso, a stinging slice appearing along your rib cage. You jerked, but bit your tongue.

He cracked it again and again until you were bloody, slices in your leathers, festering wounds along your breasts, ribs, and stomach. You’d counted to 25 lashes before your brain gave out and your vision blurred from the pain. You looked up to the sky wearily. The sun was gone and the stars were slowly appearing. You smiled at them, remembering Azriel’s words from that night all those years ago. 

You hoped he’d forgive you for not telling him. You hoped he’d understand your fear in revealing that secret, that the bond had snapped for you during the war. When that Hybern soldier’s sword pierced your armor, running through your body to the hilt, and he’d let out a fearsome bellow from across the field at the sight. You felt it then, the golden strumming taking the form of a fated thread linking you two. You been near death when he and Rhys had found you and the only thing you could do was smile. Such an ironic thing it was to die in the arms of your mate. 

Your head lolled to the side as exhaustion threatened to overtake you. “Azriel,” your thoughts ventured, calling down the bond he didn’t even know existed, “I love you.” Darkness swam in the corners of your vision but you swore you felt his responding tug. The Mother was kind for granting that hallucinative mercy in your final hours. Your body gave out, slumping against the shackles and darkness overwhelmed you. 

Azriel was furious. No, furious wasn’t the word, he was a walking time bomb. You were gone. His mate was missing and he was going to explode. As he’d arrived with Rhys and Cassian to the location you’d given them, he could smell you. His eyes searched frantically around the scene before him until they zeroed in on an item hanging from a branch a few dozen paces out. Cloth of some sort? He approached and could detect your scent on it, realizing quickly it was your clothing. A ripped cotton blouse. His fists clenched and he vaguely heard Rhysand speaking to his left. “They must’ve captured her here.” Rhys crouched down to the ground, two fingers swiping the dirt there, before bringing them eye level to examine sample. “Blood,” he muttered, rubbing the hand on the leg of his pants, “she was injured.” Azriel’s heart thundered, he was going to fucking explode. 

He set his shadows work, surveying the forest with rapid precision. They’d cover more ground this way, an army of three operating like a whole infantry. By the time the sun rose to midday, Azriel was ready to begin screaming. They trekked further into the forest, following a line of smoke that was miles deep, originating at a camp somewhere far into the wilds. His shadows murmured to him of a small band of males there, of you, shackled to a fucking tree, arrows buried in your back. He’d nearly lost the contents of his stomach at the information and set to a run alongside Rhysand and Cassian. 

As the three approached the encampment, the sun was nearing dusk. Rhysand had commanded the halt and strategize. There were roughly twenty-five men, all armed. They couldn’t enter this blindly and infuriated, they would lose if they weren’t careful. Azriel hated admitting he was right, his instincts screaming otherwise. Mate, mate, mate, his heart pounded. 

They backed off to a thousand paces out, close enough that they could hear if the troop vacated the premises. As Rhysand and Cassian spoke quietly, Azriel felt his heart thrum. The golden thread there had pulled him closer to you and he could tell you were still alive. Though Rhys couldn’t reach out through your bargain, Azriel’s bond was still alight and warm, he stroked it with gentle affection. You might not feel it, but Gods he would try. 

As the trio retraced their steps to the camp, stars were just beginning to light overhead and Azriel grasped his daggers tightly, knuckles cracking around the hilt. He was going to kill them. Kill them all brutally for taking you, for touching what was his. When they were within a stones throw from the camp he heard it, heard you. “Azriel,” you whispered into his mind. He went stock still, spine ramrod straight, fingers trembling as they gripped his knives. The golden bond vibrated in his chest, and he felt you reaching out through murky waters, against all odds. “I love you,” you said with a soft exhaustion before your side went dark. Azriel’s breathing guttered and he felt high on mirthroot, sick from fae wine, and enraged to the point of explosion all at once. His blue siphons flared brightly from the surge of power. He closed his eyes and reached out to you through the bond, tugging on the thread connecting your souls. He was coming. He was going to save you. 

Rhysand looked to him then, curiosity swimming in his eyes as he took in the Shadowsinger’s sudden stop. Azriel opened eyes, irises alight with fire and shadow, voice grinding with dark threat, “Let’s go.” Rhys nodded and Cassian drew his knives. 

They moved with brutal efficiency, killing male after male until none remained alive. Some had begged, others shouted and scattered their belongings as they set into a run. His shadows had caught them, twisting around their ankles and dragging them back to meet their fate, daggers slicing throats from ear to ear until blood poured like a prized hunt being slaughtered, the Illryian’s hands grasping and snapping necks like twigs. It was a practiced routine for the three of them, who’d trained since they were teens. 

As they stepped through the shrubs to find you, Cassian gasped and Azriel felt his lungs threaten to collapse at the sight. You’d been shackled to a tree at the wrists and ankles and whipped within an inch your life. Wounds glistened with blood along your thighs, soft stomach, ribs, breasts. There had to be thirty lashes. A knife wound was visible at your exposed navel. Your head hung forward unconscious and Azriel’s heart pounded. He wanted to vomit and his hands shook. 

“She said you’d come,” a voice said, emerging from behind the tree you were bound to. The male held a dagger to your throat. This new stranger had to be the leader of this band of idiots. Azriel’s eyes followed the tip of the blade up his arm to the male’s eyes and a growl escaped him as he bared his teeth. The male laughed, “to think she said she was nothing and yet I have both the Shadowsinger and the Lord of Bloodshed before me to save her.”

Azriel’s mind latched on to that piece of information, turning it over in his head. You’d told this male you were nothing? Did you not know Azriel would do anything for you? You were everything. You were his love, light of his life, keeper of his soul, his mate. How alone you must’ve felt, how scared. Azriel’s eyes narrowed, he was going kill him. 

Rhysand spoke then, emerging from behind the two Illyrian brothers, “And may I ask why you’ve abducted a member of my court?” He was in High Lord mode, tone bored, fingers picking at his sleeve. The Hybern male’s smile gleamed at the introduction, “just who I was hoping to see!” 

“Hybern, the old fool, made a few promises in his last days as King,” the male spoke, digging the blade down to your chest, where it rested over your heart. Azriel stared at the blade, eyes tracing to the the hilt. That was your blade, the one he’d given you when you first arrived in Velaris, the one you wielded against Eris, the one you kept strapped to your thigh. Your own knife had been used against you.

“One of which was that I would inherit these lands after your lot were annihilated.” Azriel wanted to laugh at the male’s words, was he serious? “A dead king cannot honor empty promises,” he ground out eyes shifting to the male’s blue eyes. “A dead and headless king cannot gift you shit,” Azriel spat. The male smiled then, a feline grin growing on his lips. “Precisely Shadowsinger, a dead king cannot give me my due, but this little thing can help.” You’d made a noise then, something akin to a whimper as you came to. Eyes wincing then fluttering open as your irises found Azriel’s immediately, some preternatural magnetism existing between the two of you. Then you looked to Cassian and Rhysand, and your eyes swam with apology.

“She awakens!” The male sang, looking to you. Azriel jumped at the opportunity to send his shadows out while the male’s attention was elsewhere. They traced over the ground to you, circling the tree and working at your binds. He sent two others towards the distracted male. “Who knew the Night Court was so attached to a whore,” the male laughed, “I want my lands,” he fixed Rhysand with a glare, “you can have your plaything back in exchange for my seat, High Lord” he sneered. 

Rhysand looked from you to the stranger to the shadow now creeping ever closer to the male. “You must be mistaken,” Rhys said then and Azriel’s shadows wrapped around the male’s neck and wrist simultaneously, whispering violence for touching their mate, forcing the dagger from his grasp and air from his lungs. Azriel tightened them until they heard bones crack in the male’s arm and choked sounds exit his throat, face reddening as oxygen was cut off. “I do not make deals with dim witted cunts,” Rhysand said darkness beginning to surround him, High Lord voice encroaching, “I do not entertain terrorists and I do not take kindly to threats on my family.” 

‘Finish him,’ Rhysand said darkly into Azriel’s mind and the Shadowsinger moved with lightening precision, dagger find purchase as the male’s neck was sliced open and his right hand was removed from his body. The male’s body toddled forward with a choked gurgling, before falling to the ground, lifeless, blood pooling.

Azriel’s gaze fell to you and he softened. His shadows finished picking the lock of the shackles that held your arms and they clicked open, allowing your body to fall into his. “Azriel,” you breathed, voice weary with exhaustion, “I didn’t— I—“ you stuttered, pulling a shaking hand to his face. You swallowed, tracing his cheek with trembling fingers, “I didn’t think I’d see you again,” you murmured, your watery eyes searching his face, memorizing the details of his visage.

Azriel picked you up in his arms and unfurled his wings protectively. “I will always come for you,” he said vehemently, eyes watching your face with intensity. You smiled, a weepy trembling smile as you nodded. Rhysand reached the Shadowsinger’s side then and your eyes moved to his violet ones, “Hi Little One, I’m so sorry we’re late.” You let out a single watery laugh before wincing as the sudden expansion of your chest burned the wounds littering your chest and back. 

“The arrows,” you gasped, “at my back,” you twisted in Azriel’s hold, “please get them out.” Rhysand leaned down to inspect the wounds. “Faebane,” he surmised, that’s why his connection to you had been severed. “We need to get her to Madja, now.” Azriel nodded, allowing Rhys and Cassian to move closer so the High Lord could winnow them home. 

Landing back at the House of Wind had been chaotic. Rhysand shouted immediately to get every healer available and the dining room table had been lined with a sheet, turning the warm family room into a medical ward. You were laid facedown on the table and Azriel took to your side, scarred hands touching your face, keeping you awake as Madja worked to remove the six arrows burrowed in your body. 

You’d screamed. The sound would haunt Azriel for centuries. You begged to make it stop and Madja had apologized softly as she worked faster to remove them while minimizing damage. “I’ve got you,” Azriel said softly, “eyes on me, alright?” He rubbed the hollow under your eye with a scarred thumb and you opened your eyes to lock on his. “No gloves,” you said, smiling tightly, before wincing as Madja applied local anesthetic to an arrow wound. Azriel smiled, eyes a little watery. “Not with you,” he whispered shaking his head, “never with you.” You smiled at him and the sight set Azriel’s heart to fluttering.

Later, after the arrows had been removed and wounds bandaged, you’d been given a strong herb tonic for pain that set your head swimming as exhaustion overtook you. Azriel carried you his room, laying you gently onto the mattress and covered you with the duvet. He leaned down then, breathing in your scent as he placed a kiss to your forehead, nuzzling his nose to the Winter white hair there. He would tell you. When you awoke, he would bare his soul to you. 

You woke with a groan. Fucking Gods, your body ached with the effort it took to roll over. “Easy,” a voice came from the corner of the room. Your breath gasped out of you as your eyes raced to the figure there. “Azriel,” you breathed. The male smiled warmly at you and stepped forward to rest at the edge of the mattress. You pushed up in the bed, the wound at your shoulder screaming from the exertion. Once in a sitting position, you rested your back on the headboard as you looked at him. “For taking out a small militia, you seemed to be decently uninjured,” you said smiling tightly, memories of the stranger and his whip haunting your mind. He snorted a small laugh, “Yes well,” he looked down then, thumbs fiddling with each other, chest heating, “I had something worth fighting for.” 

He looked back to you and your cheeks had grown pink, a small pleased smile at your lips. “I heard you, you know,” he said softly, turning enough to rest a hand on your thigh, thumb drawing small, soothing circles there. The heat generated in the touch sent a spark to your belly. Oh, you were fucked. “I heard you in my head, through the bond,” he said eyes watching his thumb as it traced on your bare skin hypnotically. 

“You know then?” You whispered, breath skittering out of you. You were scared to death of the trajectory the conversation was taking, your heart preparing for the best and the worst simultaneously. Azriel’s eyes dragged up your form to your face and a smile broke over his lips, one that caused your heart to ignite. Your Mother had once told you the heart was an organ of fire and you’d laughed, never having cause to believe such a statement. You understood now. 

“I—“ Azriel started, before clearing his throat, turning his body to face you in full, a knee pulled up on the mattress, touching yours. “In the whole time I have known you— two centuries, Little One,” he looked at you pointedly, “you have been my dearest friend, my greatest comfort, my confidant, and the person I admire most in this Gods forsaken world.” He breathed deeply, a whoosh exiting his lips as his hand tightened around your thigh. “The times when you were lost to me have been some of the most painful moments I’ve experienced.” 

Your eyes began to water, and you moved a hand to rest atop his own, thumb circling the scarred skin at his wrist. He took a breath then and the air shifted between you, his mouth opening and closing, as if he was gathering his confidence for what he was about to say next. “I have loved for you so long that I’d given up all hope of reciprocation.” The words shattered through you as all air escaped your lungs, guts swooping down as heat alighted there. “I felt the bond the night Eris came for you,” he continued, eyes watching your entwined hands. Your body went still and a startled laugh exited your mouth. Azriel’s eyes flew to yours questioningly. 

“Sorry,” you chuckled again, “I’m just realizing how fucking stupid we’ve been.” You lolled your to the side, watching him with loving eyes. “I’ve been in love with you for almost two centuries, Azriel,” you smiled, “I thought you wouldn’t want me.” Azriel’s eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing in disbelief, two then three times. You thought for a second to compare him to the guppy fish that swam in schools along the banks of the Sidra but refrained. 

He pushed forward then, hands coming to cup your face, pinky and ring fingers resting in the hollow below your ear, thumbs stroking your cheeks. “How could I not? You’re everything,” he whispered, searching your face, conviction showing in his eyes. You couldn’t stop the smile that overtook your mouth as you spoke, “and you’re my mate.” His eyes moved to your lips, glazing before they moved back to your eyes. “As you are mine,” he spoke confidently. 

Your eyes watched each other for a long second, “I really hope you’ll kiss me this time,” your hand trailed up his arm, fingers teasing. “Mother knows I’ve been dreaming of it for far too long.” He surged forward, lips meeting yours and you thought you might float away. You gasped and his tongue moved in, claiming your mouth, your taste with his own. 

He pulled away minutes later, a little breathless, “Sorry to have kept you waiting, my love,” he spoke, resting his forehead to yours with a smile, watching your dazed expression, pink cheeks, as your lips split into a grin. Your hand moved to the front of his button down, fisting in the material there, giving an experimental tug. “Kiss me like that again and I’ll consider forgiving you.” 

The laugh that came out of him was golden, and you pushed yourself to memorize it. Azriel, Lord of Shadows, Spymaster for the Night Court, Rhysand’s right hand and Illyrian warrior was soft for you. He loved you. He was your mate. You’d be giddy about it for the rest of your life. 

Your healing had been slower than you would’ve liked. The faebane had done serious damage but with Madja’s help, the scarring was minimized. The lashes at your front took two weeks to heal, the arrow wounds took three. Three fucking weeks. Meanwhile all you could think about was your mate. He hadn’t left your side in the interim. Helping you take steps, applying the wound creams that Madja had left in small glass pots, keeping you fed, making you laugh, telling you how much he loved you daily. Mother above, you were going to ruin this male. 

You walked into the kitchen at the end of week three, the only evidence of your wounds now in the slight limp of your right leg and twinge in your left shoulder. The marks at your stomach and chest had diminished into barely there, silver scores. Cassian was sitting at the small table in the corner as you entered. “Hi Cass,” you greeted, “seen my mate around this morning?” It was fun calling him that, a small part of your chest swelling with pride each time. 

Cassian smirked, “He’s been…… out.” Your eyes narrowed, he was being evasive. “Out where?” You asked, grabbing an apple and hopping up on the counter to watch the male. He shrugged, “No idea, Little One.” You smirked, “I know where you sleep Cassian,” you started, “is it really wise to lie to me?” Nesta strode into the kitchen, “What’s he done now?” She asked laughing. “Hey! I’ll have you know I’ve done nothing!” The male exclaimed, “She’s interrogating me on the whereabouts of her maaate.” He dragged out the vowel of the last word mockingly. Nesta took her seat next to Cassian and laughed, “Ah, him.” She looked to you then, “he’ll be around to collect you soon.” 

You looked between the two, suspicion dripping from your features as you took another bite from the apple in your palm. “You two are being weird,” you stated. Nesta shrugged, nudging Cassian who smiled at her. “Just wait,” she said softly, “maybe cook yourself a meal.” Cassian’s mouth quirked with a laugh he restrained. “Right, I’m leaving, cause whatever this is,” you waved a hand at them, “is deeply odd.” You hopped off the counter and strolled to the exit.  You heard them laughing softly once you were out of the room, making you roll your eyes at their antics.

You’d gone to the library after leaving the kitchen and found Elain already there. Her eyes moved to you upon your entrance and she closed her book, middle finger marking her spot. “How are you feeling?” She asked softly, eyes surveying your body for lingering damage. You sighed, falling into the sofa across from her. “I’m better,” you said quietly, “the pain is gone, scars are minimal.” You turned your eyes to her, she looked brighter than the last time you’d seen her. “How are you?” You asked in return. She smiled sweetly. “Better,” she echoed you and you wanted to laugh. “I’ve been exchanging letters with Lucien,” she added and your ears perked up.

“That’s great, Elain,” you rest your chin on a closed fist, watching her. She shifted and sat her book to the side, page forgotten. “I want to tell you something,” she said quietly, fingers twiddling with each other. She looked... nervous? “I’m all ears,” you said softly. 

“I had a vision while you were gone,” she started and took a deep breath. “It was so muddled at first, I couldn’t tell who it was, but then I saw you. Your hair was longer, you stood taller, and your belly was round.” The breath left your body in a powerful exhale. She looked to you again, eyes watching yours, “You were pregnant and happy and in love,” she said quietly, as if the words in themselves were fragile. Your hands trembled and you moved them under your thighs, her eyes didn’t miss the action. 

“I couldn’t understand why the Mother would send me a vision like that, I saw Feyre’s pregnancy, but we’re sisters, you know?” You nodded. “Then I realized I recognized the tattooed arm I’d seen wrap around you, knew it was Azriel.” Your eyes watered, and you hiccuped out a small laugh. “I’ve known for a while you two were fated, but the Mother was telling me for certain. I hope you know how happy we are for you.” She finished and moved to sit next you, small hand touching your knee. 

“When they brought you in that night, I thought the Mother had lied to me, that it was a vision of what could have been, that you wouldn’t make it.” You’d never heard Elain speak at length in this way, and you thought you might stop breathing. “I’ve never been happier to see you than when Azriel brought you in to read days later, my sweet friend.” You surged forward, throwing your arms around the female and she returned the gesture warmly. 

You sat back and looked at her then. “Thank you,” you said, voice small, a little watery. She nodded before turning to resume her original spot at the end of the sofa, picking up her book and opening it to the page she’d left off. 

In the hours that followed, you’d returned to the kitchen, grateful to find Cassian and Nesta had left. You took Nesta’s advice, gathering the ingredients to build a small berry tart. It had just gone in the oven when your mate appeared in the doorway.

“Hello love,” he said casually, leaning against the door jamb. You startled, turning on your heel to find him smiling at you. “Where have you been?” You asked walking towards him and running your hands around his midsection in a hug, head resting against his chest. His arm came around your shoulders as he pressed a kiss to your hair, breathing in your scent. “That, my dearest one, is a surprise.” 

You looked up chin resting against his chest, watching his face. “It’d better be good, I baked for you,” you said, smiling softly at the Spymaster. His eyes moved to the oven then and back to you, irises darkening, as his pupils blew a little wide. “You… baked?” He asked disbelieving, “didn’t know you knew how to bake,” he followed up playfully. You gasped and shoved him, “for that, you can starve, have fun finding another mate to bake for you.” He laughed heartily and caught your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, eyes swimming with warm affection as he pressed a kiss there. Gods, the action made lust swoop in your stomach, heat spreading. 

“The fool I’d be to turn away such a female,” he said, voice deepening, lips running across your knuckles with each word. “Azriel” you breathed. “Yes?” He offered in return, still smiling, moving your knuckles back and forth against his hot mouth. “Please tell me this surprise involves you bedding me.” A growl creeped out of his throat, the thought of you under him sending lust racing down his spine and to his groin. 

“It might,” he said quietly, lips resuming their exploration, tracking small kisses from your knuckles, to the joint of your thumb, the inside of your wrist where Rhys’ tattoo lingered, up the soft skin of your arm, to your elbow, until he reached the skin of your shoulder. His lips traced over the raised skin there, a small nip above the scar as he traced north to your collarbone. You’d gone to putty in his hands, head rolling to the side to bare your throat. He pressed soft kisses there, pausing at your pulse point to trace the area with his warm tongue, a whimper escaping your mouth. 

“If this is going to become a regular thing, I’ll need you two to relocate to the River House,” a voice came from behind you and you jumped in shock, but your mate, he let out a possessive growl before turning on the intruder. Rhysand laughed airily and folded his arms over his chest. “Easy, brother,” he smiled, causing Azriel to roll his eyes. You blinked a little dazed, and pulled away from the Shadowsinger. “You’re gonna make me burn my fucking tart,” you shoved him with an arm and laughed as you turned to resume your place at the oven. 

Azriel instructed you to dress comfortably and be ready in a hour as he kissed your knuckles one last time and exited the kitchen. Butterflies roamed freely in your stomach at the thought of what he had planned. You’d returned to your quarters after removing the tart from the oven and portioning it into a small travel sized container. You were going to accept the bond, and your nerves were alight with anxious excitement. After you dressed in a lightweight linen dress, you packed a small bag with your remaining creams, and the boxed tart you’d prepared earlier. 

You descended the stairs to find Azriel waiting at the base, his wings standing proudly behind him, shadows skittering around his feet. At the sight of you they raced to meet on the bottom step, running up your legs, around your waist and into your hair. A laugh escaped you as one nuzzled into the space behind your ear. Azriel watched fondly. “They love you,” he said smiling, taking a step to meet you, “ever since the bond snapped, I’ve had the hardest time reining them back from touching you.” 

You reached a hand out to meet his, interlacing your fingers. “They’re cute, but you’re cuter,” you said with gentle affection. A shadow pinched at your waist and Azriel’s cheeks went a little pink as he laughed. 

“Will you tell me what the surprise is?” You asked as he walked you toward the training balcony. “I’m afraid I’m very poorly dressed for training,” you joked. He snorted, “no, we’re not training.” He came to rest at the railing and then turned to you, running a hand up your arm, fingers moving to hold the back of your neck, warm palm heating the skin there, thumb grazing your jawline. “Amongst many things I’ve been terribly late for recently, I realize I owe you a date.” 

Your face went a little puzzled and you looked to his eyes. “A date?” You questioned. He nodded, “I was supposed to take you flying.” Realization dawned on your features and a smile overtook your lips, each tooth shining in the setting sun. “I wanted to kiss you that night too,” you admitted laughing, remembering how desperate you’d been for his touch and attention. He smiled softly, “you have no idea how angry I was with Rhys for calling me away.” Your eyes widened, still in disbelief that this male wanted you return. It seemed both a millennia in the making and still so new and fragile. 

Azriel snuck an arm around your waist and brought you up into the stretch of his firm body. His other hand tracing down your hip, then thigh, to curve under your knees as he picked you up. His wings unfurled and he shot into the air. A shaky laugh startled out of you and you gripped him tighter, your arms winding around his neck. His wings flapped in thunderous bursts, taking you higher, until you could see the entirety of Velaris spread below, the Sidra flowing like a snake through the winding city. Your breath left you in awe. “The Peregryn was right,” you said loud enough for him to hear and he smiled, pressing a kiss to your temple.

The flight was short, but it took you to the rural banks of the Sidra on the outskirts of the city, just before it emptied into the sea. You could see ships sailing into the harbor, moonlight beginning to trickle across the water. This was undeniably special, you thought, no one would see you up here and you felt like this was the edge of the world itself. You turned to Azriel, finding his eyes already watching you. “Thank you,” you said softly, leaning into him, his chin meeting your forehead as you moved your body to rest alongside the length of his. His hand came to rest at the small of your back, pinky stretching to graze the curve of your bottom. Wherever this was going, you were very interested. 

He turned and grasped your hand, pulling you back up the hill and away from the view, towards a field of wildflowers and grasses. There, in the middle, a blanket had been laid out, small candles lit to illuminate the setting. A basket sat in one corner, a bottle of fae wine held within with an assortment of pastries, breads, and cheeses. You realized quickly that your mate, the male you’d loved for damn near two centuries, was courting you. The thought thrilled you. 

He led you to the blanket and motioned for you to sit next him. “I must confess, I never took you for a romantic,” you said looking from the candles, to the basket, and then to him. He was watching you again. He smiled, laughing a bit nervously, “I’m a lot of things,” he said and your eyebrow quirked. “Oh yeah? Like what?” You challenged him and he loved you for it. You made him feel easy to love, you made loving fun and freeing. Azriel had once only thought freedom could be found in fucking and flying, then he’d found you and he knew it was there too. In the smile of your lips, in the thrill of your touch, in the ease of your love. 

“Well,” he started, moving his wings to lean into you, pressing a kiss to your exposed shoulder. The action caused you to shiver. “I’m a spymaster.” You snorted, “no shit.” A laugh rumbled in his chest. “I’m a bit shy as you well know, I’m quite fond of dancing, I’m—” he hummed the last letter, pausing his thoughts and moving his lips up your neck. “I’m in love with you,” he said biting into the flesh at the juncture of your collarbone and throat, cock hardening at the sound that rolled out of your mouth. “I’m going to take you right here, on this blanket, under the stars.” 

You gasped, your hands moved find purchase in the hair at the back of his head, fingers winding through the strands, nails dragging at his scalp. His nose ran the length of your jawline before his lips found yours. He rumbled a small hum the instant his mouth touched your own. At first it was a gentle press, teasing you as he had done today in the kitchen at the House of Wind. The adrenaline racing up your spine made you feel like you might vibrate out of your skin. His hand reached up then, threading broad fingers into your hair as he took the kiss deeper. Tonguing the bottom of your lip until your mouth opened, his tongue stroking your own. Humming with contentment, he tilted your head, deepening the kiss at a new angle that had heat swooping down to your core. 

You brought your left hand to his shoulder, fisting your fingers in the fabric there and pulling him closer. He understood your intention and leaned you back into the blanket, pleasure alighting each nerve as his body pressed into your own. He eased up on your lips and began a slow trek south, pulling the strap of your dress down the curve of your shoulder, leaving a love bite there that had you gasping. He kissed down the bust line of the dress, laving his tongue at the swell of your breast. Your breath was coming in pants and you pressed yourself up on your elbows as he moved further south, fingertips tracing the hem of your dress that had risen to the middle of your thigh. 

He looked back to you and smiled, mischief playing in his eyes as he ran his hands up your thighs, the slow drag pulling the dress with it. “I’ve been thinking about your cunt for centuries,” he said, his lips on your knee, pressing insistently as they moved north. “I’ve been dreaming of making you come on my tongue since I met you.”

Your breath leaves you in one fell swoop as you feel his tongue at the juncture of your hip and thigh. His mouth was insistent at skin there, tonguing the lace of your panties before pulling them down your legs and off entirely. He picked up a foot, placing it to his chest as he traced the long line of your body with hungry eyes. You were panting already, dressed rucked up around your waist, straps fallen down your arms and breasts heaving. His gaze flowed south and landed on your pink cunt, glistening, begging for him. His eyes went back to your face then, and his titled his head to the side, “Will you let me eat your pretty little cunt?” He asked fingertips tracing the scars of your calf with reverence. He brought your foot up, kissing the inside of the ankle, then nosing his way over your scarred calf, suckling at the skin there. “Please,” he added, eyes moving back to yours as his mouth continued his ministrations. 

“Mother above, Azriel,” you breathed and a laughed startled out of you, “you are mouthy.” He chuckled darkly then, nipping at your knee, taking special care to press a gentle kiss at the new scar there. “Is that a no then?” He said softly and your head fell back with a groan, exposing your neck to his view. “As if,” you said, head pulling back up and lolling to the side to rest on your shoulder. “I’ve thought about it too, and if you back out now I will explode.” He laughed again, freely this time, forehead resting on your thigh. 

His eyes find yours again, and he kept them there as he traced his lips north. He nosed the juncture of your cunt and inner thigh, running a tongue along your mound. You gasped and eyes narrowed, watching him with rapt attention. He pressed a kiss to the top of your slit and his hands come up to open you to him, pulling the lips apart and tonguing the collected moisture there. Your head fell back as your elbows gave way, falling flat against the blanket. 

“You taste better than I imagined,” he said before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. The moan that left you had his hips pushing into the ground to find relief as his cock begged for release. His tongue flicked against your clit as he sucked and hummed. He thought this might become his favorite place in all of Prythian. He thought that every bad thing that had happened in his life seemed insignificant now that he was able to worship freely between your thighs. He traced fingers up and paused to wet them on his tongue, before pushing his middle and ring finger in to the second knuckle, pulling them out and scissoring them back in again. His tongue found your sweet little button for a second time that night and he laved at it, listening to your cries as he pushed you to the brink. Azriel’s life had been a nightmare, but between your thighs, mouth on your cunt, walls fluttering around his fingers, he thought he’d been blessed by the Mother herself. 

Your hips rocked up in time with his fingers and you cried as your gut twisted, the coil there tightening. “Az-“ you gasped. “Azriel,” you went a little whiny on the vowels of his name, and your hand reached down to thread your fingers into his hair, nails scratching and tugging the strands. He hummed, the vibration sending shocks up your spine. “Azriel, baby,” you gasped, coming up on an elbow again, rutting your hips into his face as he took you higher. He didn’t let up, suckling at your cunt, fingers finding the spongy spot on the backside of your clit that made the world go blank “Azriel!” you gasped again, hips stuttering out, “Fuck, fuck— oh.” In seconds you were reaching your peak, hips faltering, thighs twitching, toes curling into the hard planes of his back. 

He pulled his mouth off of you, pressing kisses to your pubic bone as he moved north up your stomach. He eyes were alight with desire, the male was pure want and you were his last meal. He pulled his fingers from your cunt and trailed them up to rest at your neck as he slotted his body between your thighs and kissed you. The hedonism of tasting yourself on his mouth made you wetter, cunt pressing into the hard line of his cock, still restricted in his trousers. He moaned at the contact, mouth leaving yours to rest his head against your chin and gather himself. The sound sent a pleasurable shock directly to your core. You grasped the hand at your throat and brought his fingers up and to your mouth, tongue laving at them before taking them to the knuckle, and pulling back slow, hollowing out your cheeks and sucking, keeping your eyes on his. He bared his teeth the sight and ground his hard cock into you, the friction on your clit making your thighs twitch. 

“My sweet little mate,” he cooed. “Love of my life,” he nosed your cheek, his fingers still in your mouth. “All my dreaming has been put to shame it would seem,” he pulled his fingers from your mouth and replaced them with his tongue, his hands flying to his belt. He growled in struggle and you ventured a laugh. His eyes found yours and his jaw ticked, “keep laughing, sweet girl, I’ll fuck your throat next and you won’t come.” Your eyes went a little wide and a feline grin appeared on your face. “Mouthy indeed,” you said with glee as he finally got the buckle undone and pushed the pants down and off. 

His shirt went next and your fingers traced up his exposed arms to his shoulders. “I’ve seen you shirtless a dozen times, and you still take my breath away,” you said softly, a hand resting on his pectoral. He laughed and went a little pink, before he pushed your dress up your body and over your head, leaving you bare. “I’ve always been impressed by your ability to so disarming,” he said, mouth finding the space above your breast as his hands came to cup them, fingers toying with the nipples. “It’s my favorite thing about you, you see me in a way I can’t even see myself,” he followed up. 

Your eyes watered at the admission and your hands found his face, bringing his mouth back to yours as you kissed him again, tongue entwining with his. Your hands grasped his shoulders, as your leg found his hip and you pushed him over, onto his back. Your hands came to rest on his chest as you settled your weight on his lower abdomen. You could feel his manhood standing to attention, insistent at the curve of your ass and you reached around to grasp it, pushing your chest out for his greedy eyes. Taking him in long strokes, you ran your hand up and down, circling your thumb around the head. His eyes screwed shut as his breathing shallowed. 

“Wanna know a secret, baby?” You offered, rocking your hips in time with your strokes. He whined then, the Lord of Shadows keened a little whine for you that had you ready to come right there. “Last time we hosted a gala, that night before Hybern,” you were panting, “all I could think about was taking you to bed.” His eyes opened and hazel was gone blacked out in pure desire. His hands found your hips and his own began to move in time with you. “I thought about riding you,” you said, twisting your hand in a way that had his breath guttering out of him. “I thought you might love me in the way you looked at me.” His eyes softened and he leaned up, hands tracing up your spine as he pressed kisses to your chest. 

“I loved you that night and every night since,” he said before tonguing a nipple and sucking it into his mouth. “That dress you wore, my color, had me hard for a week.” You laughed then removing your hand from his cock and bringing both to his face, so you could kiss him. His hands slipped to your ass then, palming the cheeks as his tongue moved in tandem with yours. When you moved back from him, a string of salvia still connected you two, you reached up to comb fingers through his hair gently.

“I brought you something,” you said quietly, looking to the corner of the quilt where your bag had dropped ages ago. His brow furrowed, confusion showing in his features. “You don’t have to, but I brought some of that tart. If you want,” you offered the statement nervously, as if there was still a chance for rejection. Azriel’s heart went soft and his brain turned to mush.

“You want to accept it?” He questioned, hands sliding up your back and to your waist. You smiled and looked at him incredulously, “Of course I want to accept it, it feels like I’ve waited a millennia for you.” You’d laughed a bit and that feeling of home raced through him again. Gods, he was fucked. 

You leaned off his lap, pulling the strap of your bag to you and unzipped it. There, packaged in a little glass container, lay a small slice of the berry tart you’d fretted over earlier in the day. “Nesta made some stupid comment about ‘cooking’ when I’d asked where you were,” you laughed in hindsight at the female’s leading words. “She knew because Cassian knew, he helped me with the food and candles,” Azriel murmured pushing your hair up and over your shoulder. 

He pulled the container from your grasp then and opened it before picking the pastry up with his fingers, the same fingers that had been inside you minutes ago. Eyes on yours he took the first bite, your heart thrumming as the golden thread of your bond lit up like the sunrise. His eyes never left yours as he consumed the pastry in four bites, swallowing and pulling his fingers into his mouth at the remaining sweetness there. 

The bond between you two was shining, strong and thrumming with love. ‘Hi,’ you tried, your thoughts reaching out to him. He smiled, laughing freely, and his voice came through clearly, ‘Hi, Little One.’ You choked out a laugh, eyes watering as you leaned forward to kiss him, tasting the berries on his tongue. ‘Can I make love to my mate now?’ He questioned down the bond and you laughed again. His hands were already tracing your hips as you leaned forward, hand reaching underneath to guide him into your cunt. Lowering yourself down, you rocked forward once then twice in order to take him to the hilt. 

Mother above, he was big. His cock was thick and filled you wholly, pushing against your cervix making your eyes flutter in pleasure. You thought of the comment Mor had made about wingspan once decades ago and you heard him laugh, “I’m flattered, truly,” he said playfully, reading your thoughts and nipping at your shoulder.

You rose up again and set to riding him slowly, hips moving in long strokes as his hands traced your ass, pulling at the flesh there in time with your movements. You gave a experimental squeeze of your walls, and he keened a loud moan that had you speeding up your flow. “You keep that up, Little One and I won’t last,” he panted at your throat. “That’s rather the point,” you laughed breathlessly, your own hand moving to cup your breast, the other sliding down to circle your clit. His eyes traced the view greedily, moving down to the point where you connected, watching your cunt take him in full, his cock glistening with your shared wetness. He bared his teeth at the sight, a rumble lighting in his chest. 

Just as your walls began to flutter with your impending orgasm, he grasped you and flipped you to your back, pulling your hands from your body and entwining your fingers with his own on each side of your head. He ground his pelvis in deep and your legs hitched higher around his waist. “Azriel, fucking Gods,” you called out at the switch in angle, the tip of his cock grinding into your cervix. He hummed at your throat, teeth marking you there as his hips pulled out and pushed in, grinding each time he bottomed out into you. His wings flared behind him and you thought you’d never seen a more beautiful sight. 

“You take me so well, my love,” he panted, “you were made for me.” You whined then, cunt fluttering around him as he bottomed out deep and held it there, grinding his pubic bone into your clitoris. The pleasure raced up your spine and you thought you’d never be able to leave this place, might have to keep him inside you forever. He growled, reading your thoughts. “You want me to fuck this cunt forever?” He asked aloud leaning up, pulling his hands from yours. 

You whined at the loss, but the sound died as he pulled your legs up his waist to his shoulders, kissing the scarred calf. He drew his cock out, only to slam back in. “Fuck,” you moaned out, voice going up two octaves. “You want me between your thighs for the rest of my days?” He said again, hips moving faster, your hands moving to your tits as they bounced from the impact. His eyes watched the movement and he bared his teeth again, turning his head to bite into the flesh of your calf. 

“Azriel!” You called out again, pleasure zipped up your spine and you felt your stomach tighten. “Az, baby, I’m so close.” He chuckled darkly. “Be a good girl and come on my cock,” he said as his fingers traced down your leg to find your clit, rubbing the bundle in quick, timed circles. “Az- I-,” you barely got the words out before your orgasm overtook you, a long moan exiting your mouth as your cunt tightened around him, he ground into you and worked you through it, before dropping your legs back to his hips and pistoning deeper.

“My sweet mate,” he gasped at the skin of your throat, mouth tracing up to find yours, hands finding purchase on your thighs as he pulled you open, allowing him dive deeper. “My darling love,” he moaned and his tongue moved with yours, your hips pushing up to meet his thrusts, walls fluttering against his velvet length with the remnants of your orgasm. 

You ventured your hand up his shoulder to the base of a wing and traced your fingers up the membrane to the bone. His eyes twisted shut, and he keened a low primal whine that had your cunt ready to come again. At the tightening of your walls, he groaned dark and deep, shadows seeping from him, as he pushed in, grinding against the innermost portion of you. His hips pulled out slightly and then pushed back in as his cock kicked, come spurting against your walls. He panted against your throat as his hands released their hold on your thighs and moved up your body before grasping your throat. He moved up to lean over you and his eyes found your own. He gave an experimental thrust of his hips and your eyes widened. Fucking Cauldron, he was still hard. 

He laughed then, nuzzling at your mouth as he nipped at your bottom lip. “I’m giving you five,” his voice was deeper than you’d ever heard it, “and then I’m eating my come from your cunt and fucking you until the sun comes up.” 

You gasped out a laugh as your arms wrapped around his shoulders. ‘They call it frenzy for a reason,’ you thought, kissing along his cheekbone and to his mouth. Gods, you were fucked. 

[earlysunshines]

we'll be alright, please try again

kim minji x fem!reader ; angst, fluff

synopsis: you and minji break it off, both emotionally and physically, each pushing the other away. but the universe has other plans, bringing you two back to square one as if you were always meant to find your way back to one another.

warnings: sixth member!reader ; arguing ; pining ; reader is canadian for the plot but it's not even that important it's just for a silly tims joke and smth more ; ugh they're so in love get away ; angsty but super fluffy + heavy pining ; a lot in one ; iffy pacing imo ; have fun with this one i rly liked writing this ; wtv else i didnt mention

a/n: guys PLEAAASSSE don’t be scared of the hook and angst tag PLSGIYS i swear it’s sweet… i swear. i was smiling throughout don’t be scared… it’s not THAT bad ANYWAYS i want timmy's so bad rn... un cafe infuse froid a la vanille si vous PLAAAIIT someone send me timbits asap

“i think we should break up.”

minji’s head snaps toward you, eyes wide, an exasperated “what?” escaping her lips.

confusion flashes across her face, and for good reason. everything has been good between you two, really good—no fighting, no tension, just the usual hustle of practice and training. you’ve both always found a way to make it work, to balance everything. so why now? why are you saying this?

you can’t bring yourself to meet her gaze, your eyes focused on some spot on the floor instead, teeth worrying your bottom lip.

“we’re both training so hard,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. “i think we should focus on that for now.”

“but… everything is fine,” she says, a pleading note in her voice. “i don’t get it…”

truth is, you don’t want this—not at all. the idea of breaking up with her makes your chest tighten painfully. but things have gotten tougher lately, the rules stricter, your company’s expectations weighing heavily on you. being with minji would only make things harder down the line, for her and for you. you’d never want to hold her back—not her, not the person you love more than anything.

“i think it’s best for us,” you repeat, though your voice lacks conviction.

minji’s brows knit together, her eyes searching your face. “why do you get to decide this?” she argues, her voice rising slightly. “let’s just… talk it out. we can work through this, can’t we? we always work it out.”

you’ve only been together a few months, but they’ve been some of the best months of your life—of her life too, you know that. both of you are still figuring things out, still finding yourselves in the midst of all this chaos. hell, neither of you are legal adults yet, both being sixteen and clueless. but it’s minji who made you realize you’d never feel this way for anyone else, certainly not a man. she was the first girl who gave you butterflies just by smiling at you, the first whose hand you held with a racing heart, the first whose cheek you kissed, feeling your face flush with warmth.

and there’s that one memory, a core memory that replays in your mind like a favorite song—you can still feel her hands gently holding your face, the way her eyes sparkled with something pure, something deep, right before she leaned in and kissed you. your first kiss, your first everything. she’s your first love, and the thought of letting that go feels like tearing out a piece of yourself. 

tearing yourself away from her would be better for her anyway, that’s what your company insisted anyway.

“please,” minji whispers, and there’s a crack in her voice that breaks you all over again. “don’t do this.”

you swallow hard, your resolve wavering. your chest feels heavy, like you’re carrying a weight you can’t bear. but you press your lips together, fighting the urge to reach out and pull her into your arms, where she belongs.

“it’s… it’s better this way,” you say, even as everything inside you screams the opposite.

minji shakes her head slowly, a tear slipping down her cheek. “it’s not,” she insists, voice breaking. “it’s not better… not for me.”

and you know, deep down, it’s not better for you either.

“minji,” you begin, voice faltering. 

“don’t minji me,” she snaps, eyes fierce and determined. “we’re not breaking up.”

“we have to, don’t you get it?” your voice breaks, tears welling up as you stand in front of the entrance to her dorm, the one she always complained about, the one you’ve come to know so well. “how will we ever debut if we have these worries and burdens in the back of our minds?”

minji pauses, her features softening, but her gaze remains fixed on you. “you think i’m a burden?”

“n-no! no, minji, no.” you shake your head quickly, regretting your words the second they leave your mouth. “it’s not like that… my company’s been on my back, pushing me harder, and they might move me to another one. god, i feel like a pawn in chess or something. look, it’s just… it’s best we focus on our own paths right now.”

minji’s eyes search yours, hurt etched across her face. “we’ve always made time for each other before. what’s different this time? y/n, i love you.”

“we’re sixteen, minji,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “we’re young and… and stupid, and nothing in the future is promised.”

“well, i want you in mine. i would do anything to make sure you’re there in mine, anything.” she insists, her voice trembling, “even if you debut and i don’t, or the other way around—i want you there. i want you there always.” she steps closer, her hands coming up to rest on your shoulders, her touch warm and steady, even as your own resolve begins to crumble. 

her words make your neck tense, your lip quiver. you feel the tears spill over, hot against your skin. minji moves one hand to your cheek, her thumb brushing away the tears, her gaze softening as she whispers, “i love you. i love you when i’m exhausted from practice, i love you when i’m stressed over exams, i love you when we only have a few minutes together… i love you every moment of every day. i can’t… i can’t let you go.”

you shake your head, your breath coming out in short, uneven gasps as you pull away from her touch. minji’s brows knit together, her eyes filled with concern as she watches you crumble, sees you bury your face in your hands. you take a shaky breath, wiping your tears away with the back of your hand.

“i’m sorry, minji,” you choke out, your voice heavy with emotion. “i love you, but we can’t… we can’t do this. i don’t want to talk about it anymore. you don’t need me in your life. i—” your breath hitches, your heart clenching painfully in your chest. you wonder if it’s worth it, if sacrificing what you have with her is really the way to achieve your dreams. “i don’t need you in mine right now,” you finish, your voice cracking, every word cutting through you. “we should focus on our own things.”

minji stares at you, her eyes searching yours, her heart breaking, the words slowly sinking in. a tear slips down her cheek, and she doesn’t bother to wipe it away.

you take a step back, your vision blurred with tears. “i’m sorry, minji… i’m doing this for us—for you.”

you turn away, your chest tight, and as you walk away, the sound of minji’s quiet sobs echoes in your ears, each one tearing at your heart a little more. but you don’t look back. you can’t. not now, not when every step away from her feels like losing a part of yourself.

—

it’s been a year. one long, agonizing year since you last spoke to minji. a year spent fighting the urge to look through the hidden folder on your phone filled with photos of the two of you, each image a reminder of what you lost. you’ve stopped crying every night—first every week, then every month. but the guilt, the sorrow of losing her, the love of your life, still clings to you like a shadow.

you’ve thrown yourself into training, harder than ever. it stopped being about debuting a long time ago; now it’s just a distraction, a way to drown out the ache that never seems to fade. but was it worth it, listening to the company, if the will to keep going feels like it’s slipping through your fingers?

then, one day, they pull you aside. your company tells you you’re being relocated, moved to another company that’s shown interest in you, in your potential. they say you might debut sooner. it sounds like everything you should want, so you agree, packing your bags and letting them shuttle you off to the new dorms, even if a part of you feels numb, disconnected.

when you arrive at the new building, something about it feels familiar. the hallway, the scent in the air, the way the light filters through the windows—it all makes your heart thud in your chest, unease curling in your stomach. memories you tried so hard to bury start to bubble up.

you shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts, and push open the door to your new room. it’s… not much. the walls look a little worn, there’s a fine layer of dust on the shelves, and it’s small—cramped, really. not surprising. you’re still a trainee, after all. you didn’t expect luxury.

inside, two girls turn to look at you, surprised by your sudden entrance. one is shorter, with wavy hair and a bright, warm smile, the other taller and younger-looking, with a curious expression. you manage a small, polite smile in return. 

“hi, they sent me to source–”

“you must be y/n?” the girl with wavy hair interrupts, tilting her head slightly, studying you with interest as you shut the door behind you. “i’m danielle, nice to meet you.” her voice is friendly, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“hi, nice to meet you too.” you reply, noticing the slight arch of her brows. your korean is decent, but the accent still lingers, evident enough to catch attention. 

“i’m hyein,” the younger girl chimes in, a grin spreading across her face. “are you from here?”

“n-no, i’m not,” you stammer, a little caught off guard. “you could tell from my accent, huh? i’m still working on my korean. i’m fluent in english though.”

hyein glances at danielle, then back to you. she points at danielle and adds, “danielle speaks english too.”

“you do?” you ask, turning to danielle. she nods.

“yeah,” danielle says, switching to english with an easy smile. “it’s nice to have another english speaker around. two of the other trainees speak it pretty well too.” her accent is thick, australian, and it’s like a tiny piece of familiarity amidst all the change.

a small relief floods through you, just enough to calm the nerves that have been knotting your stomach all day. “oh, that’s… that’s good to know,” you say, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

“yeah,” danielle agrees, and for the first time since you arrived, you feel like maybe, just maybe, this new start won’t be as hard as you thought.

they both help you settle in, and soon you find yourself sharing a bed with hyein. it’s cramped, barely enough space for two, but it’s better than nothing. you’re grateful for their kindness. both of them seem so genuinely sweet, and you quickly learn that danielle is only a year younger than you, while hyein is much younger. she’s practically a child, literally a child, you feel a protective instinct kick in immediately. there’s a sincerity in her wide-eyed curiosity, an innocence that makes you want to look out for her, to make sure nothing ever limits her spirit.

danielle, on the other hand, is a ball of sunshine—radiating warmth and energy that makes the room feel brighter. she’s constantly smiling, her laughter infectious, and even though there’s a hint of tiredness in the way she moves, a slight slump to her shoulders, she’s still so full of life. she talks a lot, her voice light and cheerful as she shoots question after question while getting to know you. it’s hard not to be eased by her easygoing charm. 

as the night wears on, they do their best to lift your spirits, sensing the nerves that still linger just beneath the surface. danielle makes a few silly jokes that make you smile despite yourself, and hyein tries to comfort you with small gestures—a reassuring pat on the arm, a soft-spoken “it’s okay, you’ll get used to it. they must’ve relocated you for a reason!” they can tell you’ve been thrown into this new situation without much warning, and they’re doing their best to make you feel welcome. 

you feel a strange mixture of fear and hope—this whole thing is still so new, so uncertain. it’s unsettling to be here, to have been displaced so suddenly, but at least your new roommates are wonderful. they’re different from the people at your old company, where the atmosphere had been tense, filled with a kind of hostility that always made you feel on edge. here, there’s warmth, a sense of camaraderie you haven’t felt in a long time.

you wonder if this company will be any different. you hope it doesn’t end up ripping you apart like the last one, but for now, you find comfort in the gentle smiles and kind words of danielle and hyein. they make this unfamiliar place feel a little less lonely, a little less scary, and for tonight, that’s enough.

—

danielle shakes you and hyein awake at the crack of dawn, urging you both to get ready for training. it’s a normal routine for them, but for you, it’s the start of something new. you rush through your morning routine—skincare, a light layer of makeup, and clothes you hope are suitable for dancing. you quickly follow the two out, trailing behind as they lead you down a path toward another building, one that you assume is where all the training happens.

inside, they guide you through the hallways until you reach a room. danielle opens the door, and you’re greeted by an empty dance studio. hyein lights up at the sight, a wide grin spreading across her face. “we have some time to warm up before the other three get here,” she says, already jogging inside.

danielle steps in next, and you follow, trying to push down the nerves fluttering in your stomach. you all sit on the floor, stretching your legs, trying to loosen up and prepare for what you know will be hours of hard work. you focus on improving your flexibility, feeling the slight burn in your muscles as you push yourself further. ten minutes pass, and just as you start to feel a little more at ease, there’s a knock at the door.

the three of you turn your heads in unison, watching as the door creaks open and a girl shuffles in, rubbing her eyes like she just woke up. behind her, two more girls enter—the first is a shorter girl who yawns deeply with each step she takes, but the second girl… your heart stops dead in your chest.

kim minji.

kim fucking minji.

she catches your gaze, and both of you freeze. time seems to halt, your eyes locking onto each other in shock. minji looks just as stunned as you feel, her expression mirroring the disbelief you know is written all over your face. you can’t breathe, can’t think—your mind is spinning, and your heart feels like it’s dropped to your stomach.

before you can fully process what’s happening, a voice from the other side of the room snaps you back to reality. “you’re the new girl? nice to meet you! i’m hanni,” the shorter girl says, approaching with a friendly smile.

you force yourself to tear your eyes away from minji, swallowing hard before managing a polite smile in return. “nice to meet you, i’m y/n.”

minji, on the other hand, feels like she’s caught in a dream—or maybe a nightmare. you’re standing right there, in front of her, looking just as beautiful as you did the last time she saw you, minus the tears streaming down your face. she thought she had done pretty well moving on, pushing you aside so far in her mind so that she only thinks of you when she’s not bombarded with coursework or training—so rarely. she can’t move, can’t speak, not until danielle calls her over, breaking her from her trance. she takes a shaky breath and forces herself to join the group, her mind still reeling.

the room feels charged with tension, both of you stealing glances when you think the other isn’t looking, neither daring to say a word. it’s a strange, painful coincidence, running into each other like this. it’s almost as if cupid is playing a cruel joke, aiming to tear your heart to pieces rather than make it flutter.

and the worst part is, you just have to push on with practice like there’s no history between you two. like you don’t have memories stored up in your mind of her laugh, the way her hand fit in yours, or the way she looked at you like you were the only person in the world. both of you are still so young, but you know better than to let your feelings get in the way—not when debuting is on the line.

you take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves as you introduce yourself to everyone again, making sure to keep your eyes anywhere but on minji. your voice is calm, your smile practiced, and you do your best to pretend that she isn’t standing just a few feet away, close enough for you to hear her breath hitch, close enough that you can almost feel the weight of her stare. 

the room is filled with conversation as the girls introduce themselves back, one by one. you nod, exchange pleasantries, but every word feels heavy, like you’re walking on a tightrope above a pit of old memories and unspoken feelings. you focus on the faces in front of you, the ones you haven’t seen before, trying to absorb their names and voices — hanni, haerin, danielle, hyein, and… — anything to distract from the familiar face you know too well.

then, practice begins, and you force yourself to concentrate on learning the choreography, to commit every move to memory. the beats of the music fill the room, and you step in time, trying to mirror danielle and hanni’s movements. you stretch your arms, pivot your feet, focus on your control, and move across the floor, pretending that your ex-love-of-your-life isn’t right there, just a few steps away. 

you try not to notice minji’s presence, the way her hair falls across her face when she turns, or the way she bites her lip when she’s trying to focus. you do everything you can to ignore the quickening of your heart whenever you hear her voice, sharp and clear, giving feedback to the others. you push down the memories that threaten to surface, the images of stolen kisses and whispered secrets, forcing yourself to focus on the rhythm, the steps, and the music.

but it’s hard to pretend when every glance feels loaded, every second that passes feels like an eternity. you know you’re here for a reason, to work hard, to debut, to make something of yourself, and you can’t let old feelings get in the way of that—not now, not ever. still, as you dance, you feel a pang of something deep in your chest, a longing that no amount of practice can seem to shake. not this time.

—

another year goes by, a year of slowly building bonds with the other girls and learning how to navigate around minji’s presence. the two of you have grown, mature enough to look each other in the eye, exchange a few words when necessary, but never more than that. neither of you dare to willingly interact beyond what's required.

an unspoken agreement hangs between you both: act alright in front of the others, get along enough to avoid raising questions, and move on. it’s all you can do. three hundred and sixty-five days pass, and in that time, you begin to notice more about minji, the side of her that never wavered, the side that’s still so caring towards everyone around her. 

you see her helping hanni with her korean, keeping hyein motivated with endless praises, complimenting danielle on her improvements, and reassuring haerin when worries weigh on her. minji’s always been the caring type, that never changed. neither did her pretty, gummy smile, her soft eyes, the way her eyebrows furrow in concentration—everything about her that once made your heart skip a beat still lingers, still draws your attention.

it stings, realizing your feelings haven’t faded. they’re still there, buried beneath the surface, and you know they’ll remain, how could they not? it’s kim minji you’re dealing with. if you debut together, those feelings will continue to simmer, but you push them down, suppress them, because you’re the one who created the distance between you two. the tension is your fault, and you have to deal with your mistakes.

minji tries not to break, not when she sees you laughing and being carefree with the others, yet stiff and distant around her. she knows she should be angry, and she is, but not enough to hate you. you’re both just young, chasing your dreams, and if that means leaving her behind, minji will accept it. as long as you’re happy, she can let go, because no matter what, she’ll always care about you, always love you in her own quiet way.

her feelings haven’t faded either, and sometimes it shows—when you’re with the others, bringing laughter and light into the room, she remembers the way you once brought that same warmth into her life. but staying stuck in the past won’t help her, and minji knows that. she allows herself a few glances, lets her gaze linger on you when she thinks no one’s looking, before pulling herself back to reality.

there’s always that unspoken tension in the air, the weight of words never said, the feelings both of you try so hard to bury. but somehow, you manage to keep going. you get by, coexisting in the same space, neither of you willing to confront the past, but not quite able to forget it either.

—

two days until debut, and the excitement is electric.

all six of you are buzzing, nerves mixed with joy. after years of grinding, sleepless nights, and moments where the dream seemed too far, you're almost there—right on the cusp of what you've always wanted. the final practice for "attention" wraps up, and you gather in a circle, sharing words of encouragement. the rehearsal went better than any of you could have hoped for, and the anticipation of seeing the music video reactions and stepping on stage for the first time is almost too much to handle.

the energy in the room shifts once practice is over, everyone easing into a more relaxed state. danielle is sprawled out on the floor, leaning against hanni, who's leaning on hyein. haerin sits by the mirror, legs crossed, lost in her thoughts. minji, meanwhile, stands near the mirror on the other side of the room, hands on her hips, staring at her reflection. you're in the center of the room, watching her without even realizing it, your eyes tracing the curve of her back before you finally gather the nerve to approach her.

you tap her shoulder twice, and she turns around, surprise flickering across her face. "y/n?" she says softly.

"hey..." you respond, suddenly shy, your eyes flickering from her chin to her collarbone, avoiding direct eye contact. "can we talk?"

minji hesitates, glancing around the room before nodding. "alright."

you lead her out of the practice room, both of you offering quick excuses as you slip away. the walk down the hallway is quiet, the silence heavy between you. minji waits for you to say something, but you can't seem to find the words until you reach a small window in front of a couch and potted plant. the light streaming in casts a soft glow over the space, and you take a deep breath.

“we’re debuting soon,” you say, the words awkward as they leave your mouth.

“yeah,” she breathes, her gaze following yours out the window.

“it’s been my— our dream for so long,” you continue, voice quiet. “i know things have been... rough between us. and that’s on me. i wanted to apologize.”

you take a deep breath, forcing yourself to meet her eyes, even if just for a moment. “from here on out, i want to mend things between us.”

minji’s eyes widen, and you can see the surprise written all over her face. you can tell she’s about to say something, but you press on before she can interrupt.

“i’m not asking for us to go back to how things were, i know that’s wrong of me to ask, considering i… yeah.” you clarify, gulping and trying to supress a faint blush. “but i want us to be members, to get along. eventually, maybe even friends again. i just want to fix things—at least a little. i know our past was complicated, but if we’re going to debut together, i want there to be less tension. more of... a broken bridge than no bridge at all, you know?”

your words hang in the air, and minji is silent for a few moments, processing. she looks at you with an expression you can’t quite place, and for a moment, you wonder if you’ve said too much. then she speaks, her voice quiet, almost fragile.

“okay,” she says, the word barely escaping her throat. “i want that too.”

relief washes over you, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. a small smile tugs at your lips. “i’m glad. i hope we can talk more, catch up... maybe do something normal again.”

“something normal,” minji echoes, a hint of uncertainty in her voice, but she smiles. it’s a soft, genuine smile, one that makes your heart clench a little.

the two of you stand there, the silence between you now comfortable, not heavy like before. for the first time in what feels like forever, you’re seeing her—really seeing her. minji’s changed. she’s more mature, more thoughtful in her actions, her words. there’s a quiet authority about her now, especially as the eldest. the others look up to her, and honestly, so do you. hell, you’ve always looked up to her. she’s become even more beautiful, the soft evening light highlighting her features, giving her this glow that makes it hard to look at her for too long without feeling something stir inside you.

minji, on the other hand, is taking you in as well, a quiet smile on her lips as she does. there’s something almost poetic about this moment—you two, standing here together, about to debut in the same group. just years ago you two had met by the river, built a friendship and more, then less. regardless of what would have happened to the two of you, you’d end up together again.

to think that there was a whole time where you were both in different buildings, different spaces, hoping the other would make it. now, you’re side by side, part of the same dream, somehow together again. both of you made it.

—

after your first debut stage, adrenaline courses through your veins as the six of you rush backstage, breathless and buzzing. the girls are squealing, jumping around, and you can’t help but grin at them. then, your eyes meet minji’s across the room. her smile is genuine, proud, and it softens something inside you. you mirror her expression, holding her gaze longer than you should, until danielle tackles you with a hug so tight you feel like your ribs might cave in.

“that was amazing!” danielle beams, pulling back just enough to see your face, her eyes sparkling. “i can’t believe we just did that.”

“i know, right?” you respond in english, your body finally beginning to relax. “i’m so... overwhelmed, but in the best way.”

“so many people were cheering for you.” danielle pokes your cheek playfully, a mischievous smirk tugging at her lips. “bet it was that wink you pulled off during your ending fairy.”

your face flushes instantly, and you push her away with a groan. “stop! i was nervous! i didn’t know what else to do…”

danielle’s laughter is contagious, and soon hanni joins in, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “smooth wink, miss l/n,” she teases. “you might end up with a lot of fangirls, more than guys i bet.”

you whine, trying to push them both away, before finding refuge by haerin, who’s spaced out in her own world. she blinks at you, a bit startled as you point over to danielle, hanni, and now hyein, who’s joined in, the trio replaying your ending fairy. they giggle like kids, mocking the way you winked and bit the inside of your lip. haerin just sighs in understanding, standing beside you like a silent bodyguard.

minji watches the whole scene unfold from a distance, a small smile tugging at her lips. there’s a warmth in her chest, seeing everyone so carefree and happy after all the hard work. she’s beyond glad that you all made it, that the dream finally came true.

(even if you’re not hers anymore, you’re happy, and that’s more than enough for her. minji is grateful just to know that.)

–

the next month flies by in a blur. your ep is out, there’s promotions, interviews, a few meetings, and just so much. despite the whirlwind, every feeling from every moment sticks with you, vivid and sharp.

each track from your ep gains massive popularity, spreading across the globe with people praising the group left and right. your debut isn’t just a debut—it’s the debut of the year, and suddenly, everyone’s talking about you. you’ve become the new “it” group, with people especially stunned by hyein’s talent at such a young age. the attention is surreal, but what shocks you the most is the way people are talking about you. everywhere you look, there are comments about your visuals, your voice, and the shy praise makes your cheeks burn.

(of course, hanni and danielle never miss the chance to tease you about your ending fairies blowing up online. each one garners thousands of views, and despite the attention, you cringe at every single one.)

but while you’re in the spotlight, so is minji. social media can’t get enough of her, with countless posts gushing over her visuals. people are stunned by how effortlessly beautiful she is, how her voice carries a certain warmth and depth. all the things you’ve always admired about her are now being praised by the world. her popularity is skyrocketing, and it’s no surprise to you. minji has always been stunning, both inside and out, and now everyone else is finally seeing what you’ve known all along.

it’s bittersweet; all the gushing over minji had been your little thing before you messed it all up.

—

minji sits with the rest of the girls in the dorm complex, a new one near hybe. it’s nicer, not as cramped as the old place, and even though she still shares a bed with haerin, she loves it. 

(it’s a queen sized bed instead of a full size, she’s not complaining at all.)

she’s grateful for everything, especially the upgrade from where they used to live. they’re all gathered for dinner, a celebratory meal after their debut, but as the minutes tick by, minji notices something off: you’re not there.

the rest of the girls don’t seem fazed, but minji is. she’s the oldest, the most observant, and it feels strange that a whole member is missing. she waits a few more minutes, but you still haven’t shown up.

“have any of you seen y/n?” minji asks, her voice calm but curious. “i don’t want us to eat without her. we’re a team—it doesn’t feel right.”

hanni tilts her head, looking a bit confused. “she didn’t tell you?”

“tell me what?” minji’s brows furrow slightly.

haerin chimes in. “she went out.”

“what?” minji stands up from the table, the unease settling in her stomach. 

“i told her to stay,” haerin continues, “but she kept saying ‘it’s okay’ and that she’d be back in an hour or something. she seemed pretty eager to get out.”

danielle shrugs, adding casually, “yeah, she told all of us. she didn’t mention it to you?”

minji shakes her head, feeling a small twist in her chest. “no, she didn’t.” the thought of you being out alone, especially during a meal this important, doesn’t sit right with her. you’d left your wallet in haerin’s bag—minji remembers seeing it out of the corner of her eye, a little gray wallet you always carried. she hadn’t thought much of it, assuming you’d all eat together like usual.

“she said she’s not hungry,” hyein chimes in. “she said she snacked too much earlier. don’t worry, she’ll be back.”

minji hesitates, still standing while the others pick up their bowls and begin eating. she knows you too well—you’re the type to lie if it meant sparing someone from worrying about you. and if you were really hungry but said otherwise, it just made her feel worse.

she sits back down but can’t shake the unease gnawing at her. she’s never eaten this fast before, practically gulping down the side dishes and wrapping lettuce around the grilled meat without much thought. she finishes her meal quickly, but it feels empty, and the food doesn’t settle well in her stomach.

after a few bites, she stands again, slipping on a light sweater. “i don’t want y/n to miss out on this food. it’s really good,” she says, her voice light, but her eyes are serious. “i’m going to go look for her, i’ll be back soon.”

before anyone can respond, she’s out the door. she walks quickly, her steps filled with purpose. she knows where you’ll be, and it’s not long before she’s headed to the place she’s almost certain you’ve gone to.

it’s a five-minute walk to the nearest bus stop, a three-minute wait, and a ten-minute bus ride to the area she’s thinking of. the city blurs by as she stares out the window, her thoughts racing. another few minutes pass as she speedwalks from the bus stop, her legs carrying her to the familiar bench by the river, the one with the view of the bridge that glows softly in the evening light.

she remembers the first time she met you here, how you both talked for hours, the breeze gently blowing through the trees. it’s quiet now, the water rippling softly under the dimming sky, and there you are, sitting alone on the bench, looking out at the water.

(“hi, is anyone sitting here?” minji asks, her voice lighter than it is now. 

she’s fifteen, fresh from a rare break in her training. she holds a small bag of honey chips in one hand and convenience store gimbap in the other—nowhere near as good as her mom’s, but enough to fill her up. her usual bench is taken, though, and she spots you sitting there. no big deal, she thinks, she’ll just sit on the other side.

you glance up, still chewing, and your eyes widen at the sight of her. “o-oh, no! here, sitting, um, no one. you can—uh—” you fumble for the words, trying to string them together. “alone, i am. with me, no one.”

minji smiles at you, easily picking up on your accent, the way you stumble through the grammar. a foreigner, she thinks. she gives you a thumbs up and takes a seat next to you, setting her bag of chips between the two of you.

you blink at her, caught off guard by how effortlessly she seems to glow. before you can say anything, she catches you staring, and offers you a chip. “want one?” she asks, holding the bag out.

“it’s okay, food, i have.” you respond, shaking your head, but she giggles softly.

“i have food,” minji gently corrects you, repeating the sentence with a small smile.

you mumble an embarrassed, “oh,” before adding shyly, “yeah, i have food.”

“your korean is really good,” minji compliments you, her tone warm. “it’s just your grammar and formality. but it’s not a big deal if we’re the same age. how old are you?”

you pause, taking a second to process her words, then respond, “fifteen. i’m fifteen.”

minji’s face lights up, her eyes crinkling with her bright smile, and you find yourself mirroring her expression. “me too!”

“really?” you say in english, then quickly switch back, clearing your throat. “really?”

minji nods, understanding your little slip, and switches to english herself. “you speak english?”

your eyes widen slightly in relief. “you speak english too?”

“i learned some here in korea,” she explains, her voice soothing and calm. “i also studied in canada for a while.”

“no way! i’m from canada.” 

“really?” minji’s eyes sparkle with interest.

“yeah,” you grin, glancing out at the bridge in front of you, the soft glow of the evening lights reflecting off the water. “i’d kill for some timbits right now… i wish korea had them.”

“i get that, they were my favorites when i studied there. cheap and good.” minji chuckles softly before asking, “why are you in korea? are you studying abroad?���

your smile falters for a second, and you hesitate before answering. “well, i want to be an idol. it’s… kind of stupid. i came here alone after making it through the audition and getting scouted, but i barely know the language. i just really want to be an idol—it’s my dream.”

“it’s not stupid at all.” minji leans in a little closer, her eyes locking on yours, the sincerity in her gaze catching you off guard. “i want to be one too. i’m a trainee.”

“really?” your surprise is evident in your voice. “that makes two of us.”

“i guess it does,” minji agrees, holding the bag of chips out to you again. “i’m minji, kim minji.”

“that’s a nice name,” you say, accepting the chip this time, plopping it into your mouth. “i’m y/n, l/n y/n.”

minji grins, her eyes soft as she says, “even nicer name.” the compliment catches you off guard, and you can’t help but giggle at her words.)

you notice someone sit down next to you, catching minji’s presence in your peripheral. her voice, now deeper and more grounded than that first time you met her, cuts through the silence.

“i hope this seat isn’t taken.”

your muscles relax as you scoot over to make room for her. “it’s not.” you keep your eyes on her as she settles in beside you, looking out at the familiar view. the glasses perched on her nose somehow make her even more striking, drawing out the natural allure she’s always had. you can’t help but let your gaze linger on her profile, tracing the soft lines of her face. 

before you lose yourself entirely, she breaks the silence. “you weren’t at dinner.”

“i wasn’t hungry.” you lie easily, turning back to the bridge.

minji gives you a side glance, clearly unconvinced. “right.”

“i just needed some space.” the truth slips out this time, your voice quieter. you can feel her gaze shift, now fixed on you. “how did you know i’d be here?” you ask, still staring ahead, avoiding her eyes.

“some things don’t change, y/n.” she says simply, leaning back into the bench. “i had a hunch.”

you stay quiet, the wind brushing past you both. the bench holds too much history for either of you to ignore. the same spot, years later.

(“you’re here again.” it had only been a week since your first meeting. minji had found you on the bench at nine at night, munching on fruit snacks. “thinking of timbits?”

you laughed, patting the seat next to you. “maybe.”

minji smiled as she sat down, and you handed her a piece of dried fruit without a second thought. “was it a coincidence that we ran into each other again?” she asked, sounding curious.

“maybe i’m just lucky,” you said playfully, “lucky to have run into you again.”

“lucky to run into me?” she raised an eyebrow.

“you’re the only person i can talk to like this,” you admitted. “i was hoping i’d see you again, kim minji.”

“i was kind of hoping the same, l/n y/n.”

“is that so?” you grinned, scooting closer. 

“maybe.”

the two of you spent the next hour talking, shoulders nearly touching, laughter filling the space between you. the fruit snacks were long gone, but you stayed, sharing stories about trainee life and the little struggles of the week. it felt easy, natural, like you’d known each other for years.

when your phone buzzed with a notification, your face fell, and minji’s mirrored yours.

“you have to go?” her voice held a tinge of disappointment.

“yeah,” you sighed, “but let’s meet again, okay? can i get your kakao?”

“of course!” minji had jumped at the chance, quickly giving you her contact. “can we meet again next week? i’m happy i’ve made a friend like you.”

“me too,” you had said softly, “you’re like a savior. my korean is so bad…”

“i’ll help you with that,” she’d laughed, “but our time is limited.”

you hugged her then, surprising her with the closeness. she caught the faint scent of lavender on you and hesitated for only a moment before hugging you back tightly. you mumbled a quiet “thanks,” your lips brushing against her hair near her ear, making her shiver slightly.

“for what?” she had asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“doesn’t matter.”)

you feel minji looking at you now, and in the corner of your eye, you see her scoot a little closer, her shoulder brushing against yours. it’s subtle, but the warmth from years ago flickers to life again in your chest.

“your korean is really good now,” she says after a pause, her voice soft. “especially since the first time we met.”

“i’d hope so, after three years.” you smile to yourself, trying to lighten the moment.

minji doesn’t laugh, though. instead, she turns to face you, her expression unreadable. “i was worried, you know?” she says quietly. “why did you tell everyone but me that you were leaving?”

you turn to meet her gaze, lips parting as you exhale softly. her eyes are as warm and familiar as ever. “i knew you’d make me go back inside.”

“i wouldn’t.”

“yes, you would.”

“i’d just go outside with you, y/n.”

her words settle between you, and you feel the weight of them in your chest. she’s always been too kind, too caring, even more now than when you first met. she’s still minji, but somehow better, different in ways that make you feel like you’re stuck in place, the same selfish version of yourself.

“oh.”

there’s no warning when your eyes start to sting, a subtle burn building until you feel the tears pooling. you turn away quickly, hoping to hide it before it gets worse.

“do you hate me?” your voice comes out barely above a whisper, but shaky enough to betray you. “i wouldn’t blame you.”

minji’s brows furrow. “do i what?”

“hate me.” 

she pauses, studying you closely. her eyes trace the way your hands fidget restlessly in your lap—something she’s seen you do countless times before. you’ve always done it when you were anxious, whether it was before a monthly evaluation, or when you had something on your mind that you wouldn’t share with her. she notices how your teeth press into your lower lip, your foot bouncing slightly, a nervous habit she’s memorized over the years.

“y/n,” she says softly, scooting even closer until her side presses into yours. her arm wraps around your shoulders, gently pulling you into her. she holds you like she always has, her thumb brushing lightly over your arm in slow, comforting strokes. “i could never hate you.”

“i dumped you without a word,” you mutter bitterly, the words heavy on your tongue. “and then i got moved to your company, and you had to act like you were fine with me being there.”

minji stays quiet, letting you continue.

“you don’t have to pretend. i know i made it hard for you.”

“i’m not pretending,” she says, turning to look at you again. “you debuted, y/n, and that’s all i ever wanted for you. it’s your dream. you gave up so much to make it happen.” her voice softens even more, her gaze steady on you. “all i have is admiration for you. even if we’re… not together anymore, all i’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy.”

her words only make the tears spill faster, flowing freely down your cheeks as you tremble beside her. the warmth of her touch is familiar, and it brings back memories of when you were sixteen, when she’d comfort you in moments just like this, when everything felt overwhelming.

“minji, i’m sorry,” you manage to choke out, your voice cracking with the weight of it all.

“it’s okay,” she whispers, her hand still rubbing soothing circles into your shoulder.

you hate how vulnerable you feel, especially in front of her. you’ve held it together for so long, keeping your emotions locked down since the breakup, since the whirlwind of your debut. but now, sitting here next to her, it feels impossible to keep pretending. the tears keep coming, and you sniffle quietly, wiping at your cheeks with the back of your hand.

even though her arm is still around you, and part of you craves that comfort, you can’t help but feel like you don’t deserve it. the guilt presses down on you, and you gently take her hand, holding it for a brief moment to savor the warmth before carefully removing her arm from around your shoulders. you don’t meet her gaze as you do it, but minji seems to understand, not saying a word.

“you haven’t eaten yet, have you?” she asks after a beat, her voice still soft but with a hint of concern.

“i’m not that hungry,” you reply, forcing yourself to focus on anything but the heaviness in your chest.

“not even for gummy snacks?” she teases, tilting her head slightly as she watches you.

her playful tone pulls a small smile from your lips. “maybe for those…”

—

the next few months go quite normally, though it took you a bit to fully open up to minji.

you're timid and reserved, but there’s a new warmth in the way you interact with minji. the tension that kept you two apart starts to fade during the activities that come with your debut. livestreams, music video shoots, and photoshoots become regular parts of your routine, each one pulling you and minji closer.

during livestreams, you and minji share laughter, trading playful jabs as you engage with the fans. the cameras capture genuine smiles that hint at the friendship creeping up to the surface. music video filming offers another chance for you two to joke around, using humor to ease the nerves that come with performing in front of the crew. 

you find comfort in those moments, the way your shoulders brush together as you wait. a cozy blanket drapes over the two of you, forcing you into close proximity. in those quiet moments, laughter spills from your lips, light and infectious, often unnoticed by the cameras. the bond between you deepens as you exchange jokes, the sound of your shared amusement weaving a thread of connection that feels both familiar and new.

photoshoots also lead to accidental closeness. whether it’s posing back-to-back or sharing a prop—or something much more heart-racing like minji putting her arm around you or your head ending up on her shoulder—you two frequently end up right next to each other, considering the fact that you two are the oldest of the bunch, and a popular duo. the laughter comes easily, her smile draws you in without fail, and soon you’re both cracking a bunch more jokes to distract from the awkwardness of the camera lenses. there was a stiffness in the curtain that separated you both, and as soon as it begins to fall the lingering chemistry starts to peek through again.

as time passes, the bond you share with minji deepens as well as with the other members. the lingering feelings you both carry remain tucked away, hidden in the trenches of your hearts and overshadowed by the growing friendship. you find some type of comfort in this new ‘normal.’ to be completely true to yourself, you’re just grateful for the connection that remind you both of the comfort you once shared. 

(for the most part, it stings sometimes, mostly late at night.)

dinner and practice felt natural again too, as easy as brushing your teeth or opening the blinds in the morning. being around minji no longer held that awkward tension; instead, it was a comfort, familiar and warm. the only thing that lingered was your admiration for her, something small that colored your interactions. 

(there were more nights that stung.)

at practice you’d see her greeting everyone with your favorite smile of hers, eyes crinkly and gums showing. she’d smile at you sweetly, maybe even sweeter than how she smiles at the others (but you could be delusional) then head on over to one corner to stretch. 

even the others would notice this, catching you while you’re stretching, hand on one foot reaching for it as you stare at minji through the mirror.

minji is sweaty, lifting her shirt a bit to wipe remnants of the rigorous choreo and giving you a peek of her abdomen. when she brings her shirt back down, your eyes go back to her face. she’s stunning, even after all that exercise and tiring movement. her hair sticks to her a bit, and she just looks so—

hanni pushes you over subtly, making you fall over and let out a weird noise that only she catches. you give her a glare and get up.

“you’re so annoying.”

“someone’s daydreaming a lot these days.” hanni’s right, you’ve been doing that far too often.

“just got a lot on my mind.”

“you’re always staring at minji.” hanni snickers, looking over at the oldest member. “bunnies have even caught you in the youtube videos.”

“they have?”

hanni laughs, helping you up on your feet. “people are calling you guys ‘parentz’ online.”

“w-what?”

“it’s kind of cute,” she grins, “it’s actually hilarious. dani and i were laughing at some clips last night.”

you scoff in response, nudging her with your shoulder and snickering after. minji catches the interaction from afar, eyes narrowing just barely when hanni pushes you again with a little more force, and eyes narrowing just a bit more when you push her back again and laugh.

—

minji hasn’t felt like herself lately, it’s been more than a week. there’s something about you that keeps her attention, especially now that you look stunning for the comeback. in the photoshoots and music video recordings for “super shy” and “new jeans,” you radiated beauty, and minji often tried to look away, but your adorable hairstyle was impossible to resist. she found herself playing with your hair whenever hyein, danielle, or haerin joined in, but only when they distracted you. she wouldn’t dare being the first to do so.

as you began shooting for the full album—not even music video shooting or for the photobooks, just in the booth recording the actual songs—minji was pulled in like sand drawn back into the ocean. she caught sight of you just before her turn to record, attempting to sneak up and surprise you, but you surprised her instead. walking out of the studio, you wore no makeup, your hair was clipped up messily, and a snug t-shirt and sweatpants hugged your form perfectly. 

(her eyes stayed on the curve of your torso for a little longer than she’d like to admit.)

minji froze for a moment, taking in how unraveled you looked; she was mesmerized.

“i didn’t think you’d be here early,” you said, your smile breaking her trance. 

minji felt her stomach twist.

“wanted to surprise you,” she replied, earning a bigger smile in return. “you sound good.” she added, biting back the urge to tell you how good you looked.

“did i? ugh, i don’t know; i think i can do better. i’ll work on adjustments tomorrow.” you sighed, a familiar hint of perfectionism creeping into your voice. minji had always found it strange how you saw flaws in everything you did, despite your talents. you’ve always been like that even when you were fifteen, sixteen, and during the time you two were trainees together. “i bet you’ll do lovely, though.” you add, shaking the topic of you off.

“you think too highly of me,” minji chuckled, shaking her head. “my range is kind of iffy.”

“your voice suits anything, minji. i like how deep it is. it’s nice to the ears, really soothing.” you shrugged, glancing at the cap she wore—a dark gray with pink lettering. a small smirk tugged at your lips, almost imperceptible, but minji noticed. you pinched the brim, lifting it slightly to reveal more of her face before turning it backward and letting it sit like that on her head, a few strands of hair poking out from under to cover her eyes.

“is this new?” you ask, your surprise evident. you move the hair away from her eyes and minji swears she feels her legs wobble.

“um,” minji stammered, caught off guard and blushing slightly. “yeah.”

“it’s cute,” you mumble softly. “fits you well. i’ll see you later? what do you want for dinner? i’m cooking for us tonight.”

“uh, i, um. anything the members want—ask hyein.”

“okay.” you smiled again, walking past her but pausing to give her shoulder a gentle pat. 

minji felt a rush of warmth from the brief contact, and as she stepped into the recording booth, she struggled to shake off the memory of your interaction. her mind lingered on your words and the way you looked at her, causing her to falter. the producer raised an eyebrow at her distraction, but once she shook it off, she found her rhythm, pouring her heart into the song.

—

if seeing you just after recording made her lose her balance, then just seeing you in every concept for the new album had completely swept her off her feet. 

for “cool with you,” the stylists had dressed the members similarly, all with flowy white outfits. however, each members look was different. everyone looked amazing, but the stylist seemed to pay a lot of attention to you—at least in minji’s eyes— because they did you great.

your makeup wasn’t all that strong, just simple eyeshadow, light blush, and faint lip product. still, you looked ethereal. it seemed like you had jumped out of a fairytale movie, even the cameras for the “behind-the-scenes” recording had caught her staring.

minji laughs awkwardly after catching the camera in her peripheral, smiling to hide how flustered she is.

“y/n looks very pretty, doesn’t she?” minji says, “everyone does. i think the concept suits everyone well.”

the camera is still on her, she starts talking about how she feels about the shoot and the album. then minji feels someone creep up from behind, putting both hands on her shoulders and making her jump up. she turns her head slightly to meet some of your features, your gaze on the camera in front of you gives minji a good look at the side of your face.

“hi everyone!” you wave to the camera, then turn to your left, meeting minji. “hi minji.” you say softly, almost adoringly—minji might be a little insane for thinking there’s even a hint of adoration in your tone.

“hi y/n.” 

“i like how they styled you,” you admit, “doesn’t she look wonderful?” you run your fingers through the hair falling down her shoulders. “your hair is so soft… ah, i love the accessories in your hair.”

minji tries her best to keep her cool, especially with the camera focused on both of you. you’re reaching out, playing with her clothes or gently tugging on strands of her hair. your fingers trace the edges of her accessories, and then, almost absentmindedly, you start to toy with her hands, admiring her nails like they’re the most fascinating thing in the world and boasting about it to your fans. at one point, your gaze locks with hers, and minji feels herself freeze for a second. your eyes are intense, filled with a warmth she can’t quite describe, something familiar and it makes her heart race. embarrassed, she laughs it off, looking away as though your compliments are nothing.

minji tries to return the favor, hoping to give you even a fraction of the feeling you’ve stirred in her. her knuckles brush lightly against your jaw, sending a soft tingle up your spine as she points out your earrings to the camera. her touch is brief, but intimate enough to make you hold your breath. then, without warning, you feel her fingers gently poking into your scalp, carefully lifting a section of your hair to admire its style. you don’t expect the sudden closeness, and your lips part slightly as heat rises to your cheeks. 

she catches the change in your expression and feels a little proud, her own heart fluttering at the sight of your blush.

“i was just telling ‘bunnies’ about your look for today. i think it’s really beautiful.”

“do you?”

“mhm,” she nods, “i bet you’ll look wonderful during the choreography too. i’m excited to see the monitoring.”

“haha,” you chuckle awkwardly, “thanks.”

the staff stops recording and shoots a thumbs up to you two, which lifts a weight of your shoulders.

you two don’t share a word for a moment. you can’t really look at her for some reason, and neither can she, but thankfully hyein joins in and starts admiring the both of you.

—

day two of shooting is simply hours of posing for the photobooth. you’re set up for group shots, then some solos.

as you’re doing your solo’s, danielle pops up from behind the camera and starts throwing compliments at you. 

“pretty girl~” she teases, “ooh la la~”

your stone-faced expression is replaced with amusement after the shoot ends. you let out the laughs you’ve been holding, getting up to teasingly hold onto danielle and then push her back. 

“you’re so annoying,” you joke, walking away from her. “you’re so lucky i was close to finishing the shoot, i wouldn’t have been able to go on after.”

“sorry y/n-ie.” she apologizes, “i couldn’t help it.”

you roll your eyes, catching the camera that’s recording the interaction and giving it a dumbfounded look. you pout playfully before danielle jumps to your side and smiles as she hangs onto your arm, both of you giggling like idiots.

minji, who’s watching from afar, accidentally frowns. hanni notices this, considering minji is supposed to be taking a picture of her so she can update on ‘phoning.’

“what’s with the sad face?”

“what?” minji focuses on hanni again instead of the scene going on behind the younger member, readjusting her hand. “it’s just my resting face.”

“you’re not even taking the pictures properly.”

“i– i was thinking of something.” minji shrugs, “look here, let me snap a picture.”

but hanni doesn’t look back at the camera, instead turning around to catch you and danielle giggling about something. then she looks back at minji, who’s also looking in the same direction again, frown present.

“did something happen with either of them?”

“no, it’s nothing.” minji sighs, “you turned your head while i was taking the picture, let’s redo–”

“you weren’t paying attention when you took it.”

“hanni–”

“what’s going on?” hanni asks, brows creasing slightly. “is it y/n?”

“it’s nothing.” minji says firmly, putting the phone down now and giving up. “i think i’m going to go use the restroom.”

“nuh uh, no you’re not.” hanni grabs her wrist, squaring up with minji. “c’mon, what’s up?”

minji pauses, words failing her as she tries to piece together how to explain what’s been gnawing at her for weeks. how does she tell hanni that she’s jealous, jealous of the easy way you and danielle flirt without thinking twice about it? how does she admit that you’ve never really left her mind, that she still wakes up some days with her heart aching for you, despite all her efforts to push the feelings down? minji wonders how she could possibly confess that she hasn’t fallen out of love with you—not even close. in fact, she’s only fallen deeper, drawn to this new version of you that she wasn’t around to witness grow.

it hurts, more than she lets on, that she’s missed out on so much of your life. the pain of being cut off so suddenly still lingers, but at the same time, she’s proud of the sacrifices you made to debut. and it stings even more that you debuted alongside her, the constant proximity stirring up emotions she thought she had buried. she’s spent so many nights alone, thinking about you, about the two of you, wondering what went wrong and what could have been different. 

hanni watches her, waiting for an answer, and minji shrugs, trying to mask the storm of emotions with something easier to swallow.  

“i just feel like y/n and i have this… rift, i guess. as friends, i mean.”

“i don’t see anything wrong between you two,” hanni replies, clearly unconvinced.

“i don’t know… she’s just so relaxed with everyone else, like with danielle. they act like they’ve known each other forever, but with me, it’s different. it feels like something’s changed.”

“are you jealous?”

“no! no,” minji says quickly, shaking her head, though her voice betrays a hint of uncertainty. “it’s not that. i just don’t want anything rocky between us. everything’s fine with the others, but with her… it’s complicated.”

hanni gives her a knowing look. “if it helps, i think she looks up to you a lot. you’re both the oldest, and i feel like there’s a different kind of pressure on you two. maybe she’s just intimidated by how amazing you are. she talks about you all the time when we hang out, and i’ve seen her look at you from across the room more than once. i think you two need to talk or something.”

“she looks at me?”

hanni rolls her eyes. “is that seriously the only thing you took from that? you’re impossible.”

minji blushes, a quiet laugh escaping her, but hanni’s words stick with her. “no, but seriously,” hanni continues, “we’ve had some deep talks, a lot actually. she’s mentioned being scared that she’s not as good as you. she thinks you’re way out of her league, like you set this standard that’s hard to meet.”

minji’s quiet, the weight of hanni’s words sinking in. she glances over and catches your eye from across the room, both of you pausing for a split second before you smile. it’s a small, soft smile, the kind that leaves minji’s heart racing. she quickly looks away, flustered.

“i guess i’ll talk to her,” minji says, her voice softer now.

“you should. i mean, i’m not her, but that’s just my two cents—or won or whatever. you get what i mean.”

minji bites the inside of her lip, nodding slightly as she mulls over the thought of actually talking to you. it’s long overdue. too many things were left unsaid when you ended things, even the apology you gave her before debut didn’t cover it all. but the idea of confronting it all, of putting herself in that vulnerable position again, is terrifying.

maybe after the shoots, after the performances, after the album drops, she tells herself. more time to stall, more time to watch you from a distance, more time to get lost in her own confusion. 

—

promotions aren’t done yet, but you’re close. you’ve just gotten back to korea after performing at lollapalooza, a memory that’ll surely be engraved in your mind.

as fun as it was, you’re exhausted, exhausted from everything and how often you were being put near minji. 

as soon as you get back to the dorms, exhaustion pulls you straight to your bed. you barely make it onto the mattress before you collapse, landing flat on your back. your eyes are heavy from the long day of shooting for the ‘newjeans’ youtube channel, and within seconds, you drift off into sleep, your body giving in completely.

but when you wake up, you’re not in your bed anymore.

the air feels different, the scenery unfamiliar yet somehow recognizable. you blink, disoriented, as you take in the street around you. it feels like a memory—one deeply embedded in your mind. you look down and see your pinky linked with someone else’s, the warmth of their hand anchoring you. confused, you follow the connection, eyes tracing up their arm to their face. at first, the features are blurry, making you squint. and then it hits you, as clear as day.

it’s minji, but not the minji you know now. it’s sixteen-year-old minji.

your heart stutters in your chest. she looks exactly as she did back then, her bright smile lighting up her face. her eyes are wide and full of life, just like you remember from the night market where everything between you had changed. the place where you’d confessed to each other, turning a casual hangout into an unplanned first date.

“what’s wrong? you look a little pale,” minji says, tilting her head in concern, but there’s a playful lilt to her voice.

“minji?” you manage to say, your voice wavering. “what’s going on? you—this—”

“y/n, why are you acting weird?” she laughs softly, her hand sliding into yours, fingers intertwining easily. her thumb brushes lightly against your skin, a touch so familiar it makes your heart ache. “did you skip a meal again? i told you to eat before we came out here.”

her words are like a time capsule, pulling you back to when she’d always remind you to eat. even when she was drowning in her own trainee schedule, she’d send texts making sure you were taking care of yourself. back then, you were just friends. or maybe more, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

“i—i have to go,” you stammer, your chest tightening as panic floods your system.

“again?” her smile fades into a frown, brows knitting in confusion as you pull your hand away from hers. “you’re leaving again? without explaining?”

“what?” your voice cracks.

“you’re always leaving me,” she says, her tone dropping. “are you ever going to stop?”

“minji,” you whisper, shutting your eyes against the guilt that washes over you. the regret is palpable, twisting in your stomach. “i didn’t want to, but i had to.”

when you open your eyes again, you’re somewhere else. the market is gone, and you’re left disoriented once more, thrown into another unfamiliar scene.

you’re on a couch now, rubbing your eyes as you sit up. the air smells sweet, like pancakes. your favorite—sundays at home, topped with fresh maple syrup. the scent guides you into the kitchen, where a girl is standing at the stove, her back turned to you. long, dark hair, pajama pants, a loose t-shirt.

she turns, and your heart nearly stops again. it’s minji.

but this time, she’s not sixteen. she’s the age she should be. the present minji. your minji.

“you alright, love?” she asks, concern in her voice as she turns the stove down and sets the spatula aside. she walks over, fingers gently fixing your messy bedhead. “bad nap?”

her touch is soft, her presence warm. she cups your cheek with one hand, her thumb brushing against your skin. “you looked a little shaken up.”

“i’m… no, i’m okay,” you lie, leaning into her touch for just a second. your eyes drift past her, trying to ground yourself. “are you making pancakes?”

“yeah,” she says shyly, her lips curling into a soft smile. “you mentioned missing home, so i thought i’d surprise you.” she presses a light kiss to the tip of your nose. “there’s a batch ready for you.”

“thank you,” you murmur, the words barely leaving your lips as a lump forms in your throat.

“anything for you, baby.” she takes your hand, leading you toward the stove where a plate sits—two pancakes perfectly stacked with raspberries and syrup. it’s thoughtful. so minji. 

you love this, you love her. you never stopped loving her, you couldn’t ever do that. but instead of feeling warmth, you feel a pit growing in your stomach. something’s not right.

“this isn’t right,” you say, voice trembling as you put the plate down.

minji blinks, tilting her head in confusion. “what’s wrong? is it the pancakes?”

“not the pancakes,” you say, stepping back, your hands shaking. “this. none of this.”

she moves closer, concern deepening in her eyes, but you instinctively back away.

“y/n, what are you talking about?”

“this isn’t real,” you choke out, your voice breaking. “i don’t deserve this. minji, i broke up with you. this never happened.”

a tear slides down your cheek, your lip quivering uncontrollably as the weight of your words sinks in. “i’m sorry, minji. i’m so, so sorry. i keep doing this to you. i’m so sorry… i love you so much.”

minji’s expression mirrors the heartbreak from that day—the day you stood at her door, delivering the news that shattered everything between you. the pain you inflicted on her then, it’s all here now, reflected in her eyes.

before she can say anything, you turn, running toward the door, heart pounding in your chest.

…

you shoot up in bed, gasping for air. it takes a few moments before you realize where you are. blinking rapidly, you rub your eyes, trying to ground yourself in reality. you grab your phone, checking the notifications—something from your mom, and a random emoji from haerin in the group chat.

this is real. you're awake. it was just a dream.

it's one in the morning, and you're sitting on the edge of your bed, face buried in your hands. your eyes are shut tightly, trying to suppress the emotions that are threatening to surface. after a deep breath, you force yourself to stand, legs feeling unsteady but somehow keeping your balance. you make your way to the bathroom, turning on the light, squinting as the brightness stings your eyes. you splash cold water onto your face, hoping to snap yourself out of the lingering shock. you stare into the mirror and the reflection looking back is someone you barely recognize—someone you can’t stand. your breath shakes, your brows furrow, and you hastily wipe the water from your face before switching off the light and heading toward the living room.

you stop in the kitchen first. grabbing a glass from the cabinet, your fingers hesitate when you realize it's the one minji gifted you for your first birthday together in the group. the memory flashes in your mind—you remember the shock on your face being caught on live stream, eyes wide when she handed you a clear glass with your favorite cartoon character on it. you can almost hear the laughter from that moment, but now it just feels heavy in your hands. 

you fill the glass with water and take a sip, catching your distorted reflection in the stainless steel of the fridge. your hair’s a mess, faint lines under your eyes telling you that sleep hasn’t been kind. you lean your forehead against the cool surface of the fridge, closing your eyes and sighing deeply as exhaustion sets in even deeper.

"are you okay?" a voice comes from behind, making you jump and spill a bit of water onto the floor.

it’s minji—of course it’s minji.

"woah, hey, let me help you clean that—" she steps forward, concerned.

"i’m fine," you lie, shaking your head, waving her away as you kneel down to clean the small spill. "it’s just a few drops, don’t worry." you place the glass on the counter and grab the nearest paper towel, crouching down to wipe the floor quickly, feeling her eyes on you the entire time.

minji watches you closely, her expression soft yet concerned, taking in your restless, frantic movements.

"are you sure you’re alright?" she asks again, voice low, gentle.

"yeah," you breathe out quietly, still not meeting her gaze.

"why are you up this late?" she presses, stepping a little closer, her presence warm but heavy with concern.

you straighten up, tossing the paper towel in the trash. "i just had a… a strange dream."

"nightmare?" she asks softly, tilting her head.

"something like that." you try to brush it off, but you’re too tired to put much effort into sounding convincing. minji watches as you trudge over to the couch, your body language saying more than your words. you sit heavily, sipping your water before setting the glass down on the coffee table. leaning back against the cushions, you close your eyes, trying to sink into the silence, but it doesn’t bring comfort.

minji follows, sitting a few feet away, watching you, clearly wanting to understand. she can tell something’s off. "y/n," she says softly, her voice coaxing your eyes open, "is everything okay?"

you don’t respond right away, instead turning your head slightly to look at her. there’s something vulnerable in your eyes, a longing, a quiet ache. but you sigh, closing your eyes again, trying to swallow it all down.

"i’m sorry," you whisper after a beat.

"for what?" minji asks gently, scooting closer to you, her hand hovering over yours as if she’s not sure whether to reach for you or not.

"everything," you mutter, voice thick with regret. "minji, i’m sorry for everything."

she shifts even closer now, her hand softly covering yours, her thumb brushing lightly against your skin. "is this about…" she trails off, already knowing what you’re referring to.

"yeah," you say quietly, eyes still closed, voice tight. "i’m sorry. i’m so sorry." your voice breaks, and you finally open your eyes, but you can’t look at her. "you didn’t deserve what i did. i’m sorry i debuted with you, i’m sorry for all of it. god, minji, i’m so sorry."

"y/n," she breathes out softly, her hand gripping yours a little tighter now. "we were young. we didn’t know—"

"i didn’t want to break up with you," you blurt out, cutting her off. "my company… they saw my lockscreen. i’m so stupid. they made me break your heart." the words spill out, your voice raw and trembling. "you were never a burden. i never stopped loving you. seeing you now, after all this time, you’ve grown into this incredible person, and i… i can’t stop loving you. it’s killing me. i don’t deserve to love you after what i did. i tried to push it down, but i can’t. i hate myself for it." your breath catches in your throat, tears welling up as you force yourself to keep talking. "you’re so perfect. you’re everything i could never be."

"y/n, stop," minji pleads, her voice thick with emotion, but you pull your hand away, retreating from her touch.

"no, you don’t get it," you say, shaking your head. "you’re perfect, minji. i’m being compared to you every day, and i’m nothing like you. you’re the role model, you’re everything the group needs. and i’m just… i’m an asshole. i tried so hard to keep things casual, to pretend i was fine, but i’m not. i’m not fine. i’m still so in love with you that it hurts." you pause, voice faltering, barely holding it together. "i’m sorry. i’m so, so sorry."

minji’s eyes fill with tears as she listens, her heart clearly breaking for you, for everything you’ve carried alone. she tries to pull you in again, to comfort you, but you push her away one last time, unable to accept the closeness.

and she doesn’t push further. she just watches, her heart breaking alongside yours.

a tear slips from her eyes, she’s looking at your trembling body and unstoppable flow of tears. minji shakes her head, opting for holding your hands instead, her fingers brushing against your knuckles.

“y/n, do you remember what i told you before?”

“what?”

“y/n i hated you for a good amount of time. but time made me realize that we were both just trying to reach our dreams, and if that meant you sacrificing us, then… i support you. i did support you. that never stopped me from loving you either.”

you stay silent and look at her through tear lined eyes.

“i tried to push down a lot, and it hurts to see that you’re hurting from doing the same thing as me. as your member, as your friend, and… as someone who loves you beyond measure: i don’t want you to hurt anymore. it’s okay, y/n, it’s okay.”

you let her pull you in this time, her tears stain your hair and her arms wrap around you so warmly that all you can do is succumb to the tenderness. you sob into her shoulder, muttering at least three more “i’m sorry’s” into her.

“y/n, what i said before still goes. ‘i love you. i love you when i’m exhausted from practice, i love you when i’m stressed over exams, i love you when we only have a few minutes together… i love you every moment of every day.’ i never stopped loving you ever.” 

the memory echoes in your head, replaying the two times minji said it—both sincere, both heart-wrenching. you feel a little less terrible when her hands begin rubbing your back in slow, soothing circles. you can hear the slight crack in her voice, the way she tries to stay strong for you because that’s who she is—someone who always holds it together for everyone else. 

(“are you okay?” you’d asked her once, catching that brief shift in her expression, the kind she tried to hide. 

you took a better look at her that day, noticing the dark circles under her eyes, the slight lag in her movements, like she was carrying something heavy. it took her a few seconds to force a smile, nodding as if everything was fine.

“yeah, sorry,” she said casually, quickly turning her attention back to her food. “just thinking.”

“minji,” you said her name softly, reaching out to place your hand over hers. she looked up at you, a little surprised, her cheeks flushing slightly. “tell me what’s going on.”

“it’s fine, i—” she started, but you cut her off with a raised brow, your expression making her shrink a little under your gaze. the warm glow of the restaurant’s evening lights illuminated her features, the soft orange hue catching the tiredness in her eyes. she pursed her lips, letting out a small sigh before admitting, “everything’s been really difficult lately. i’m losing energy. i feel like i’m not doing well. it’s just… i wish you could be there with me more. thinking about you is what gets me through practice. knowing i’ll see you, even just once or twice a week, pushes me to keep going.”

you didn’t say anything at first, just pushed your bowl of noodles across the table towards her before standing up and sitting beside her instead of across. she looked at you, confused, but you reached for her hand again, holding it in both of yours as you gazed at her with all the love and understanding you felt.

“you’re always doing great, minji. no one’s doing it like you,” you said, voice soft but certain.

“really?” her voice was small, like she wasn’t sure if she should believe you.

“of course,” you reassured her, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to the side of her head before pulling back. “i’ve been feeling the same way. just the thought of you keeps me going. let’s be each other’s push, okay?”

minji’s face softened, her lips curving into a small smile. she nodded before leaning in and pressing a tender kiss to your lips.

“okay,” she whispered.) 

as you sit here now, her hands still rubbing comforting circles on your back, the memory feels bittersweet. she’s always been there for you, even when you couldn’t be there for her.

minji holds you close, her arms tight around you like she’s afraid you’ll slip away if she lets go. you bury your face deeper into the crook of her neck, your own arms wrapped around her, clinging like she’s your anchor.

“you’ve always been my push,” minji says softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “that’s never changed.”

she pulls back gently, lifting your head and brushing away the strands of hair that have stuck to your tear-streaked face. her own eyes are glassy, but she smiles through the tears, looking at you in a way that makes her feel exposed, vulnerable—like she’s seeing you for the first time all over again.

“can we try again?” you ask, voice trembling with hope and hesitation.

she blinks, heart racing. the weight of your question settles in the air, heavy and fragile. 

“of course,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “that’s all i’ve wanted.”

time seems to freeze, the air still around you as your eyes lock. it feels like you’re both sixteen again, standing in that alleyway after a long night at the street market, except this time it’s different. now you’re on the couch, in the dorm you both share because you made it—you both made it. you two achieved your dreams. but there’s always been something missing: each other.

minji cups your cheek, just like she did back then, but her touch is softer now, more tender, more vulnerable. her thumb strokes your skin as she leans in slowly, her eyes fluttering shut before her lips meet yours. it’s gentle, delicate, like she’s afraid you’ll crumble under the weight of her affection. your hand instinctively moves to rest atop hers, feeling the warmth of her knuckles against your cold skin. the kiss is soft, laced with the remnants of tears, but somehow it tastes sweet. everything you’ve been holding onto—all the fear, all the doubt—seems to melt away in that moment.

you pull back first, though only just. your lips hover near hers, close enough to feel her breath.

“i love you, minji,” you say, voice low but firm. “i’m never going to make you doubt that again.”

her eyes soften, and she brings her hand to the nape of your neck, pulling you in again. “i love you too, y/n,” she whispers, before pressing her lips to yours once more, this time with a little more certainty, a little more sweetness. like you’ve both finally found what you’ve been missing.

—

hyein stumbles into the living room, rubbing her eyes, not fully awake yet. she groans, dragging her feet toward the kitchen, but stops mid-step when she spots two familiar heads peeking out from the couch. her sleepy eyes narrow as she tries to make sense of what she’s seeing. the sight takes a moment to register, and when it finally does, a sleepy smile creeps onto her face.

you and minji are tangled together on the couch in what looks like an awkward but oddly comfortable position. your head is resting on her shoulder, one arm lazily draped over her, your hand clasped loosely with hers. minji’s other arm is wrapped around you protectively, her head tilted at an angle that looks uncomfortable, but somehow it balances out with the way yours is twisted. the corner of the couch has you two nestled in tight, looking cozy in your pajamas, mouths parted slightly, both of your eyes a little puffy from sleep—a little too puffy to be from sleep. hyein stares, completely baffled at how you both ended up like this.

haerin is the next to wake up, and she spots hyein standing by the couch, phone in hand, snapping a picture. haerin yawns as she saunters over, her head tilting like a curious cat when she catches sight of you two. her brows furrow, and before she can even ask, your head slips, falling from minji’s shoulder and landing in her lap. your torso twists in an awkward, almost painful-looking angle, but minji instinctively shifts, scooting over to make room and pulling you closer, making sure you’re both comfortable without even waking up.

"what’s with them?" haerin asks, her voice low and groggy, her eyes narrowing at her oldest members.

"dunno," hyein shrugs, amused. "i’ve never seen them this close."

"me neither."

before they can figure out what’s going on, hanni and danielle stroll in, spotting the younger girls gathered by the couch. curiosity piqued, they walk over to see what’s going on, and as soon as they do, their eyes widen in surprise. a grin spreads across hanni’s face, and she wastes no time whipping out her phone to capture the moment. she quickly airdrops the photo to danielle, who giggles as she looks down at her phone, eyes twinkling with mischief.

"what’s up with the parents?" hanni teases, barely able to hold back a laugh.

"parents?" haerin repeats, raising an eyebrow.

"just look at them."

you and minji remain tangled together, still sound asleep despite the odd position, yet somehow, you both look peaceful, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. your head rests in minji’s lap now, her hand still protectively holding yours, the two of you fitting together as if you’ve always been like this.

hyein and haerin exchange glances, amused but confused, while hanni and danielle quietly snicker like children who’ve stumbled onto something they weren’t supposed to see.

—

the next few weeks with promotions still going on postpones the time you get to explain everything to your members. but eventually you and minji sit down with them in the living room, going over the whole timeline of events and earning a variety of reactions.

your members gather around, all seated in the living room, eyes trained on you and minji. there’s a tense sort of anticipation in the air, the kind that comes with heavy conversations. you and minji exchange a glance before diving into the timeline of everything— how it started, how it fell apart, and now, how you’ve found your way back to each other. each word feels like you’re lifting a piece of the weight that’s been suffocating you both for so long.

the reactions from your members are immediate. there are lots of “ohhhh”s and “ahhhhs” as they start piecing things together, understanding slowly dawning on their faces. you see nods of realization, and even though some of the details are painful, they listen intently, faces softened with sympathy. they admit they’d sensed something was off but had never wanted to pry, giving you both the space they thought you needed. now, knowing the full story, their expressions shift to one of collective empathy, eyes filled with a kind of pity and concern.

you and minji sit close, your hands intertwined, a subtle reassurance to each other that it’s okay to finally share this. as you speak, minji’s thumb rubs gentle circles against your skin, grounding you when the memories become too much. the frowns deepen as you recount the harder parts—the breakup, the misunderstandings, and the silent pain you both carried alone. but there’s also relief. it’s evident in the way your members nod along, like everything makes sense now. they’ve always had your backs, and now it feels like they’re rooting for you even harder.

"we never wanted to push," hanni finally says, her voice soft, almost apologetic. "we figured you two just needed time."

danielle nods along, her eyes a little glossy, while haerin sits quietly, processing it all. hyein, surprisingly, offers a small smile, "i’m glad you guys worked it out."

you and minji exchange another look, this time a lighter one. something close to peace settles over you both, like a burden’s been lifted now that the truth is out there. it feels good to be understood, to no longer have to hide the past or the pain from the people closest to you.

this isn’t like before—and that’s a good thing. there’s no going back to what was, because now you’re both different, stronger, and this version of “normal” is something you’d choose over and over again. you’ll grow alongside minji, hand in hand, side by side, and she’ll be growing with you too.

you wouldn’t trade anything in the world for this.

—-

"you called?"

“texted, but close enough,” you respond with a smirk. minji rolls her eyes playfully before plopping onto your bed, looking at you curiously. 

“did you need something?” she asks, her voice soft but carrying a hint of amusement.

“i just remembered something,” you say, moving toward the bed. “i wanted to show you it—give it to you before your shoot. you said you had to leave in twenty, right? well, i found this while i was organizing things."

“what is it?” she asks, her curiosity piqued. her eyes follow your movements as you crouch down, pulling a slightly worn shoe box from under the bed.

you smile as you open the lid, revealing a collection of small mementos—photos, letters, and trinkets that instantly stir up memories for both of you. minji leans closer, her eyes widening slightly when she recognizes some of the items.

“i never threw anything out,” you explain, voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia. “i couldn’t. i remember you gave me two copies of this because you couldn’t keep one at your place while we were both trainees. i’ve always kept it… never really looked at it after everything, though… after i…”

your voice trails off, the weight of that unfinished sentence hanging in the air. minji, understanding without needing an explanation, moves from the bed and sits beside you on the floor. her shoulder presses against yours, a silent comfort.

you reach into the box, pulling out a photo strip. it’s from one of your dates, back when things were simpler, when everything felt new. you flip it over, revealing four small photos in sequence. the first has your cheeks pressed together, wide smiles on both your faces. in the second, you’re both forming a heart with your hands. the third shows minji kissing your cheek, and the last one has you kissing hers. your smile deepens as you hand it to her.

minji stares at the strip, her fingers lightly tracing the edges of the photos. her expression softens, caught between disbelief and tenderness. you two were so young back then, but the love captured in the pictures is unmistakable—just like the love that still exists between you now. she glances at you, her gaze full of warmth.

“now you can keep it,” you say, voice gentle, “without worrying about anyone taking it from you.”

“y/n…” minji whispers, her voice so quiet, so filled with awe. she hugs you tightly, and before you know it, she's covering your face with kisses, one after the other, until finally, she presses her lips to yours in a long, tender kiss that feels like everything you've been holding back for so long.

“i seriously love you so much,” she breathes out when she pulls away, her forehead resting against yours.

“i love you more,” you reply, grinning.

“more than timbits?” she teases, raising a brow.

you giggle, poking her cheek. “don’t get ahead of yourself now.”

[a-town-called-hometown]

yippee! apologies if my takes are horrendously bad

my personal take on the matter is that i definitely think the dark worlds can work as a metaphor for escapism without undermining the darkners' personhood. it can be more than one thing, yknow? the darkners are important, their lives matter. and the lightners do go to the dark world as an escape from the problems they face in their own life. but that's not the darkners' whole PURPOSE, yknow? i mean. according to the laws of the universe of deltarune yes darkners' "purpose" is to serve the lightners but like it's not their whole purpose in the STORY.

it's sort of like how, in UNDERTALE, LOVE represents how distant you've become, how easy it is for you to hurt people. but it also literally gives you the power to destroy the world.

i think the biggest reason i believe escapism is at least a part of deltarune's narrative is queen.

queen's whole speech in both of her fights is about how she intends to provide escapism for the lightners (so that they will worship her but also so that they will he happy). she wants to turn the whole world into a dark world, so that everyone can live in bliss and not have to worry about the woes of the light world. she mentions "Staring, Tapping, To Receive Joy. Staring, Tapping, To Avoid Pain." which is like pretty much the definition of escapism

she wants to help Noelle with the problems she faces in the light world ("Noelle. Who Will Be There To Help Her? Her Strange And Sad Searches" and "My One Idea To Help Noelle, Failed") by just... shoving it away for a blissful fantasy world ("Wake? No, She Has Already Awakened Too Much. Let Her Close Her Eyes And Sleep Away, Into A Darker, Darker Dream.")

...i forgot the rest of what i wanted to say!

well first off, thank you for your ask! I'm going to get extremely in depth in my answer, so bear with me here. sorry it took several weeks to write this. the escapism reading of deltarune is pretty deeply entrenched in fandom, and to refute it, I felt it required a full-length essay to completely explain my viewpoint.

yes, "the lightners desire escapism" does not automatically translate to that being the darkners' actual narrative purpose. escapism can be a theme without dehumanizing those who are used in order to escape - in fact, I've read a number of stories that use someone's desire to escape to HIGHLIGHT how they're hurting others in pursuit of that. I believe that toby fox is definitely capable of telling a story about kids having a valid desire to escape, and about them grappling with having inadvertently created a world of real, living people as a result.

(I'll reiterate again that this is not the story arc that generally shows up in fanon. the common consensus is that the game will end in an omori-esque "growing out of" the dark worlds. it's why I have a huge dislike of the fanon escapism reading, given that the darkners are shown as people whose lack of agency parallels kris' own. it would feel cheap if the resolution to that plot was that the darkners were actually never meant to be agents in their own fates. but this is a digression.)

the reason why i DON'T believe that this is a story that toby fox is telling is because of the way the world, themes, and characters are written. put simply, it just doesn't come across as congruent with the story being told.

deltarune's main themes are agency, fate, identity, and control. this is a conflict that shows up in nearly every major character, is baked into the worldbuilding, and is the central struggle involving us, the player. the protagonist of deltarune is literally possessed by us against their will. the darkners are objects that have no choice but to serve and be discarded. over and over again, there is emphasis on roles that characters play - and crucially, roles that are imposed on them.

what would escapism mean, in this thematic context? in real life, escapism can represent any number of things, but in a story, a major narrative theme generally has to dovetail with other major narrative themes in the work. I would argue that escapism in deltarune would likely mean going to a place where characters are able to choose for themselves what roles they embody, or even to discard the notion of roles altogether. a fantasy of control is the only way to escape a reality where you have no agency. and honestly, it's hard to imagine that something could count as an escapist fantasy if you don't even get to choose whether or not you participate in it.

let's talk about kris.

I see a lot of discussions around kris that say that kris goes into the dark worlds to escape. the dark worlds are posited as kris' fantasy of heroism. it's a world where they can seem heroic and cool, a world where they can have friends. this theory makes a decent amount of sense on the surface level, but only until you consider that kris is being controlled in order to go into the dark worlds. and it is not a control that they appear to welcome.

if those worlds represent kris' fantasy, then why don't they get to choose what happens in those fantasies? why are they being controlled by an external force, one that they actively push back against? if it's really an escape, then why does everything about this world reflect their lack of agency? if they really think this world is just a pure fantasy, then why do they care if spamton falls when his strings are cut?

because they're being deliberately obscured to the player, it is hard to say how kris actually feels about many subjects... but I do seriously doubt that they view the dark worlds as an escape. they don't act in a way that is consistent with that. they resist their lack of agency, and what little we do see of their reactions to darkner characters doesn't suggest that they view those characters as part of a disposable fantasy, either. they seem to have complicated feelings on ralsei. and of course, one of their biggest emotional reactions in the game is to the spamton fight. I would argue that that suggests they have empathy for spamton, which is a hard emotional reaction to have if you believe he's just part of a fantasy. not impossible, mind you, but it seems unlikely that kris believes that all this is simply fantasy.

also, considering that snowgrave both actively discredits the idea that the dark worlds are mere fantasy and is actively traumatic for kris... I seriously doubt they'd open another dark world in chapter 3 on a snowgrave run if their motive was purely to escape. on that route, they've seen the damage we can cause in a dark world. they know that berdly has sustained lasting damage due to our actions, assuming he's not outright dead. why would they want to try and "escape" to a place like that again now that they know what can happen?

the only answer is that they have a motive that isn't escapist.

now, as for ralsei... what part does he have to play in all this?

ralsei does play a lot to the fun, fantastical elements of the dark worlds. he delivers the prophecy that kickstarts the adventure. he flatters both kris and susie endlessly when they act appropriately heroic. he welcomes them into the castle and even makes nice rooms for them. he initially seems tailor-made to enable a fantastical experience where no real issues can ever complicate anything, and where the pain of reality can successfully be hidden from. but there's a lot of complications to the idea that he might represent an escapist fantasy.

the first, and what honestly seems the most important to me, is that he doesn't encourage kris and susie to remain in the dark worlds. he is welcoming and kind, but once the adventure is over, he prompts them to return to the light world. he wants them to deal with their more "real" problems like homework. that doesn't feel like he is trying to facilitate escapism in them. a real fantasy would encourage you to stay in it, wouldn't it?

and while ralsei is definitely invested in making sure the lightners are happy, there are always cracks that show. he isn't able to make kris ignore what happened in the spamton fight. he isn't able to convince susie to be peaceful and kind. and in his very essence, he represents a number of uncomfortable ideas. very importantly, he represents a number of uncomfortable ideas to kris.

this probably ain't your first fandom rodeo, so I'm not going to explain all the different ways that ralsei interacts with kris' personal issues. there's plenty of posts on it out there. what i will point out is, once again, it feels odd that a character who seems tailor made to bring up kris' most uncomfortable associations with their lack of agency and their outsider status in their own family would be part of a fantasy of escapism to them. you'd think that they'd prefer something that didn't have an inbuilt hierarchy, a prophecy that denied them autonomy, or especially a person that reminded them how little they fit into hometown.

that doesn't mean kris doesn't care about him at all - it seems very likely that they do. what I mean to say here is that he just seems ill-suited to an escapism reading, both behaviorally and on a conceptual level. it doesn't seem like that's at all part of his servitude towards the lightners.

of course, there is another non-lightner entity that ralsei seems diegetically engineered to serve. but I'll discuss that later.

now as for susie...

yes, susie definitely views the dark worlds as more fun than the light world. and why wouldn't she? the light world sucks for her, and she doesn't seem very aware of the fact that the dark world can also suck. you could definitely make the argument that she views the dark worlds as a fantastical escape from reality... were it not for the fact that she treats her darkner friends with just as much importance as she does kris and noelle.

can someone treat components of an escapist fantasy as real and important? of course. but given deltarune's themes of agency and control, as well as the fact that darkners exist in servitude to the lightners, I feel like you'd have to make escapism tie into forcing others into a lack of agency if you wanted the theme to feel coherent with the rest of the work. this would require susie to be limiting the agency of the darkners around her. and obviously, she doesn't do that. her presence around them might be inherently limiting, just by simple virtue of being a lightner, but she isn't aware of it, and clearly is uncomfortable with the idea of limiting anyone's agency. she encourages ralsei to make choices. and she supports lancer in basically anything he wants to do. her treatment of lancer is integral to chapter 1's narrative, and it seems like that treatment of ralsei is integral to the ongoing narrative as well!

her preference for the dark world feels very rooted in her engagement with it as its own reality. rather than trying to avoid her real-life problems by engaging in a pretense, she seems to simply want to spend time with her friends in a place that isn't cruel to her. she isn't ignoring any of the dark world's problems in service of that, either. she notices when things don't line up. if she thought of it as a fantasy, wouldn't she be inclined to ignore issues that impede the fantasy?

and critically - like kris, she does not intentionally choose her imposed role in the prophecy at first. she steps into the role of bad guy to resist it, but that role is limiting too, and she eventually acquiesces to being a hero. it's never something she's completely on board with, though. she actively pushes back the limitations that the role places on her. I find this important to reiterate when we are discussing the notion of the characters viewing the dark worlds as fantasy.

noelle has a complicated relationship to the dark worlds. susie tells her that it's a dream to make her accept the strange reality she finds herself in, which works well on her. she continues to think of it as a strange dream throughout the chapter. (though, like the others, it is not a 'dream' she entered of her own volition!)

it is also a markedly unpleasant 'dream' at times. she has her agency restricted, is kidnapped, has to evade a controlling monarch, and is even tied up in a weird evangelion cross thing on the hand of a giant robot. it's not purely fun. noelle does like scary things, and while it might be healthy for her to have an experience where she stands up to a controlling adult figure... again, the circumstances make it difficult for me to assume that this is a fantasy she would choose for herself. not impossible, mind you, but it's not the first reading of the situation that comes to mind.

and while she does say she wishes she could dream like this every day in the normal route, that does happen specifically because she was talking to the girl she likes. it makes sense she'd find that pleasant. I don't think that necessarily equates to her finding the dark worlds escapist.

and importantly, this isn't the sentiment that she expresses in every route.

again, there's a lot of analysis on snowgrave, so I won't bother regurgitating it much here. but it's nightmarish for both kris and noelle, and very likely fatal for berdly. noelle needs to believe that the event is a dream, for her own psychological safety, but one of the most important parts of snowgrave...

...is that its events, and the world it took place in, are very, very real.

noelle wants to have the strength to face her problems, both in the regular route and in the snowgrave route. rather than escaping from them, she views the "dream" as a chance to practice dealing with her day-to-day issues. it's just that in the regular route she finds that strength authentically, and in the snowgrave route, that desire is manipulated and pushed until she is forced to kill berdly. she doesn't interpret snowgrave as an escape gone wrong. she views it as a dream that became a nightmare. and those are two extremely different things.

but i haven't even gotten to the biggest thing that undermines the concept that the dark worlds are a metaphor for escapism! which is: this fucking guy is dead wrong about everything.

so full disclaimer - I really love berdly. I think he's slept on a lot in the fandom because he's annoying and weird. which is fair, I suppose, but I think ignoring him hinders a lot of people's understanding of deltarune's overall narrative. because berdly often illustrates a lot of concepts in the game, but his narrative framing as a joke (usually...) prevents the player from taking it completely seriously. he has things to say and ideas to show off, it's just that he's often very loud and kind of dumb in his expression of them. which is kind of the point!

ralsei brings up the idea that the darkners are meant to serve the lightners very seriously in chapter one. by extension, and by way of the literal mechanics involved in a dark world's creation, we can infer that this logic is probably something that also applies to the dark worlds themselves. they are allegedly worlds and characters that only are supposed to fulfill a dream of the lightners. but due to narrative framing and deltarune's themes, we know that that's not the full truth. however dark worlds and darkners are created, they deserve to have their own agency. they can't just exist to fulfill a higher being's wishes.

you know who else undermines that view of the dark worlds? berdly! berdly does!!!!

because berdly is the only lightner in the game so far who does take the dark worlds to be an escapist adventure! he wants to turn cyber world into smartopia. he views this as a chance to be a cool hero. he believes he's going to get the girl, he's going to shape this world to his own liking, and maybe also he's going to get queen to acknowledge him or something so he stops being a forgettable little bluebird. and not only does none of this happen, his steadfast belief that it will happen is continually a joke within the narrative!!

berdly's wishes for uncomplicated escapist fantasy are flat-out denied by the dark worlds themselves. as a lightner, those worlds should be serving him. he should have the power to do whatever he wants within the bounds of an escapist fantasy. these npcs should be singing his praises!

but he doesn't have the power. and this world doesn't sing his praise. because it just isn't an escapist fantasy. he isn't right to view it that way. his wishes for heroism are always going to be thwarted.

so now that I've gotten all that out of the way, let's swing back over to the subject of your original ask. queen.

because, like berdly, queen's entire character arc is about how she's completely wrong about what the lightners actually want.

queen would in fact like nothing more to place the lightners into an escapist fantasy. she believes that that's the best way to serve them and make them happy forever. as a darkner, queen has very much internalized the idea that a lack of control is what actually makes people happy. since darkners have no choice in their destinies and are supposed to be happy in it, and since she personally finds her role as a darkner fulfilling, she believes that that's true of all people everywhere. if you want to make people happy, you just have to remove that pesky personal agency!

so she spends the story trying to force the lightners and particularly noelle into situations where she controls them in order to make them ostensibly happier. she does genuinely believe that this is the right thing to do, but as she finds out eventually, she's just wrong. noelle doesn't want that. queen believes that escapism is why the lightners use the internet... but that's totally wrong too.

while there are other searches mixed in, noelle is trying to use the internet to find her sister. instead of trying to hide from whatever happened, noelle wants to figure it out. queen's thesis about noelle and the lightners is proven wrong even before she personally encounters noelle in the dark world. it's just that queen doesn't realize it due to her limited perspective.

the concept of escapism being brought up with both queen and berdly is not there to say that the dark world is escapist. rather, it's there to say that it isn't. despite the dark worlds being a fantastical place, they are extremely real. to view them as a means of escape is foolhardy at best. you cannot act as though you are above consequences within them.

themes and ideas exist within the story for a sake of an audience. so let's get into the final character I need to discuss here. hopefully this will tie my thesis of deltarune together neatly.

that character is of course us. the player.

when creating a piece of fiction, an astute author will often identify and anticipate an audience's reactions to certain things in their work, and write things in such a way that they elicit the desired reactions. in essence, a writer is directing the "character" of the audience. how we feel and how we are anticipated to react to things is an integral part of nearly every fiction.

that effect is far more overt when dealing with metanarrative fiction that diegetically involves the audience. since the fiction is saying a lot of things about the general 'you,' the audience in aggregate, your reactions to certain things in the story have to be finely cued and anticipated by the author, so that the author can thus commentate on the reactions that you have to the story. the "character" you are assumed to inhabit is posited by the author to have certain traits.

to explain what I mean in plainer terms, I'll use the player of undertale's no mercy route as an example. because undertale is commenting on the way rpgs generally work. the player's behaviors in no mercy are attributed by characters in the story to be the result of us acting like a typical gamer. we kill the characters in the game because we want exp. and more than that, it's because we want to see everything the game has to offer. the role we inhabit in this role-playing game is that of a completionist. you could say that that's assumed to be our "character" in no mercy.

deltarune also posits that certain things are true of its audience. by being written to evoke certain cultural ideas, rpg tropes, and references to undertale, it guarantees that its audience will probably have certain traits, and spends a large amount of its conceptual focus commenting on those traits. one of those traits is nostalgia, which is probably an idea that I'll expound upon in a further essay because it's quite integral to my reading of deltarune. but the main one I mean to discuss here, and why I went off on this tangent about how audiences are dealt with in metafiction, is that we are posited as someone who believes in the logic of certain narratives.

deltarune's writing evokes a lot of portal fantasy narratives. alice in wonderland, narnia, pretty much every story where it's revealed at the end to be all a dream... the story of deltarune superficially resembles a lot of those. this, I think, is responsible for the popularity of the escapism theory. because those stories are often at their end about a child learning to put away fantasy and grow up, people tend to believe that deltarune must be about the same thing. but I truly don't think that deltarune is trying to do anything with that aspect of portal fantasy narratives, at least not directly. its main characters aren't involved in that exact type of coming-of-age arc.

instead, deltarune is very concerned with what happens to characters in fantasy, and specifically fantasy rpgs. if your world is deemed to not matter because it's a dream, what does that mean for you, who has no choice but to live in it? if you are an npc whose role has been predetermined for you via script, then can you ever decide for yourself what you want? what if you want to matter? what if you want to be your own person?

as the major controlling force of deltarune, we are initially cued to believe that deltarune is like a dream. it superficially fulfills so much of what we want from undertale fanon. hometown seems like it's a perfect idyllic town, at least until you start noticing the obvious cracks. and remember what I said about ralsei earlier? he is so reminiscent of asriel, and extremely eager to help us. it's not a stretch to say that making us specifically view deltarune as dreamlike and idyllic is probably part of his purpose in the game.

I would not say that we are posited as escapist. but the idea of escapism as brought up with queen and berdly is meant to strike at the heart of a much deeper idea that deltarune is trying to deconstruct. because if we view deltarune as a dream, escapist or otherwise, then we are inclined to write the internal realities of the characters inside off. the dark world can disappear without it mattering. we can control kris without it mattering. if it's all a dream, what does it matter? why should we care to let its characters go free? aren't we supposed to be in control?

if deltarune is an rpg... what is the significance of us interacting with it?

[cannedpickledpeaches]

Insert Your Name (3)

Mafia!Jade Leech x Mafia!Reader

Link to series masterlist!

Notes and TW: Jade and Reader are finally properly interacting! For the whole chapter, too. This series will have mentions of blood, violence, crime (kidnapping, attempted assassination, extortion), and harassment, as one might expect from a mafia AU. Please enjoy!

The night breeze sweeps over your skin when you step outside Azul’s mansion. The moon illuminates the world tonight, and you can easily see Jade’s car pull up to the driveway. He parks it perfectly, just like everything else he does, and comes to the front door with a smile.

“Looks like everything went well.”

He walks up the steps leading to the door, stopping just one step below you. Even then, his tall figure ensures he’s slightly above eye level. He zeroes in on something on your cheek.

“Indeed,” he says, raising a hand. His bare thumb swipes gently over your cheekbone. “Excuse me. You had something on your face.”

His thumb leaves your face with a hint of something red. Barry Moore’s blood. You must’ve stood too close while Floyd was having his fun.

“Thanks,” you say dismissively.

“No need to thank me. Were you the one who personally took care of the interrogation?”

He’s talking about the physical coercion. The violence. You shake your head.

“Floyd’s doing it right now.”

He lowers his eyes, rubbing the smidge of blood between his thumb and forefinger. The thoughtful pace of the action makes you wonder if he is satisfied with something.

“That’s good to hear.”

“Floyd said the opposite. He said he wanted me to draw blood.”

“Rest assured that he is more than happy to do it instead.” He reaches out for your hand. His bare fingers handle yours like they are made of porcelain. He studies them for the few seconds you allow before pulling your hand back. “You should never have to lift a finger. Just keep making others do your dirty work. There is no need for you to dirty your hands with the blood of filth.”

That implies there are things which are worthy for you to personally dirty your hands with. You choose not to think about it. Jade’s ambiguous wording is purposeful, a habit partially caused by his enjoyment of your tendency to overthink.

You look for a way to change the topic. “I see you’ve made sure to leave your gloves at her place.”

An important plot point that ensures they meet again. A trivial accessory that can easily be replaced, which (Y/N) washes and returns to him when she runs into him again. She will take great care in handwashing the white fabric, and she will keep it with her until she finds their owner. It’s an item created for the story. Because she is sweet, because she is kind, because she is the perfect person.

“Are you upset?” Jade’s eyes curve slightly in amusement. His fingers linger by your jaw. Not quite touching you, yet refusing to pull away. “You are stating an observation which does not need to be said. It feels as though you are searching for something to say.”

“No.” You push his hand away, your bare skin touching briefly. The body temperature of merfolk is naturally lower than humans, and on this warm summer night, he stays as cool as ever against your warm palm. “Maybe you’re just not that good at talking.”

He chuckles, a low timbre that slides through the air like silk. “I will work to meet your expectations, then.”

“The conversation better not be this stilted when you’re talking to (Y/N).”

“I assure you it is not.”

“Of course.” You turn to the door, its frosted windows casting a warm glow over your face from the lights inside. “She’s basically destined to be your partner, so there’s no way you wouldn’t get along.”

“We get along.”

“I know, that’s what I just said.”

“That is not what I meant.” His hand settles on the doorknob before yours. With his chest to your back and one arm reaching around your left side, you are suddenly reminded of how large he is. Towering over you, his body surrounds you on all sides except the front, an enveloping embrace where no parts of you touch. “I was referring to you and I. Ah, unless—” his voice suddenly drips with self-pity and his arm falls away “—I was the only one who felt that way about my dear friend?”

You stare at him. A few seconds pass, and you dissolve into quiet laughter. “Right, right. Feel more sorry for yourself, maybe you’ll start crying.”

“Would you like to see it?” Jade leans into your peripheral vision, a veiled grin tugging at his lips. “I can certainly try. It would come at a price.”

“I’m not that interested, then.” You push open the door. “Let’s go. Azul’s waiting for you to use your Signature Spell on the captive.”

“Ah, the captive.” He follows you into the house. In the sudden flood of light, he seems less intense, more interested in fading into obscurity to any onlookers. Azul’s home has a few trusted employees to keep it spotless. But no matter how trusted they are, Jade dislikes being perceived unless it amuses him. He manages to do it even while being six feet tall. “Where is he being held?”

“In a dingy room in the basement, tied to a chair with a single light overhead.”

Jade chuckles into his hand. “Azul has always had a flair for dramatics.”

“I think even the kidnapping was a bit clichéd. We should’ve just had you use your Signature Spell on him after you beat him up in the alley.”

“It wasn’t mentioned in the story. And I know how much you love to follow the story to the letter.” You don’t need to turn around to know that he has a smarmy smile on his face. “After all, you asked me to lead on your good friend just to stay true to it.”

He is prodding you to observe your reaction. To see if you will get angry, or pensive, or hesitant. You look straight ahead and start descending into the basement.

“My friendship with her or your parents’ life. It’s a pretty clear choice.”

“I am sure they will be happy to hear that once they awaken.”

A pause. The words hang on the tip of your tongue. They are hard to swallow, but also hard to spit out. The latter becomes easier when you don’t think about it.

“Who’s to say? You might end up falling for her eventually.” Every step you take down the stairs feels heavy. “So far, everything in the story has come true. So maybe you really will become madly in love with her.”

Jade’s silence seems to weigh down your steps more than whatever feelings are on your mind. You wonder what expression he has on his face, but you don’t want to turn around—whether it’s for your pride or for dread of seeing something you don’t want to see, you aren’t sure.

“Do you really believe that manuscript is a reflection of things that will certainly come to pass?”

He’s dodging the topic. You hate when he’s like this. He doesn’t want to give a straight answer, so he gives a tangentially related statement or question that can be interpreted to be one. Something that gives a vague answer, but can shield him with deniability when confronted. Even so, his question is not one that can easily be ignored, so it’s hard to stick to your original train of thought.

“I don’t know. It could be a prophecy of sorts. It could be someone from the future writing down what they know happened in the past. It could even be something like a magic pen that will turn anything written with it into reality. But powers like those are, well, powerful, and not easy to find. I don’t understand why it would be used on a silly, badly written love story like that.”

“Could it be that you’re jealous?”

You furrow your brows and spin around to give him a withering glare. His smile is the same as always, but you think it reminds you of when a cat toys with a mouse.

“Don’t smile like that. It’s unpleasant.”

“I’ll do my best to meet your expectations.” He won’t. You’ve already resigned yourself to that.

“Whatever. Besides, what part of anything I just said makes you think I’m jealous?”

“It isn’t what you just said.” Your shoes clack against the floor of the basement, followed by the quiet taps of his footsteps. “You have seemed rather . . . Restless since the story started.”

“There’s a lot to think about.”

“Am I one of those things?”

“You’re the male lead. You’re one of the major things I think about.”

“I see.”

You take a glance behind you again. His smile seems less predatory now, more pleased. Is he looking for attention? Right after you internally commented on his tendency of fading into the background, too.

The truth is not something like jealousy. Or maybe it is, but in a different way than what Jade is insinuating. Something feels missing now that you know you will not talk to (Y/N) again, at least until the story ends. The story takes place from her perspective, and since it never mentions Friend A after the inciting incident, you cannot appear before her for the duration of the plot. You cannot talk to her about the sweets you ate or the cafés you’ve found. You cannot sit in her apartment and talk about nothing in particular. It’s true that you will be very busy for the next while, but you still need to get used to the sudden absence of a good friend even while she is within reach.

You can deal with it, though. Over the years of working with the mafia, you have lost your fair share of friends. At least you know you can still talk to (Y/N) when she gets her happily ever after.

[faceofpoe]

What Happened to Bad Batch Season 3: Canceled Season 4/Condensed/Frankenstein'ed Plots Conspiracy Edition:

(aka: Poe Is Still On Her Bullshit)

(It's a puzzle, I like puzzles, but this one has been breaking my brain since May 1st/but really as far back as s3e8/9).

(And if you loved season 3, I am very glad, but this post is probably not for you lol)

We begin our tale with the episode Bad Territory (3.8), wherein with very little pushback, Hunter & Wrecker decide to venture off alone to find Fennec, despite the indignation at the idea of being left behind when infiltrating an Imperial outpost 3 episodes earlier.

(yes there are textual excuses for this; does it stand up to close scrutiny that we'd trust taking Omega more to an Imperial outpost we didn't know was abandoned rather than to see a bounty hunter who isn't known to currently be after her? you do you.)

We notably get this conversation with Fennec - this is important - while they're on Creepy Toxic Planet:

Fennec also has a jab about how Nala Se thought Omega would be safer with the Batch, rather than on Kamino, and how that obviously didn't work out so well.

Which... makes no sense in the context of the episode except maybe flimsily in a "well she's not here so she must be lost" way. But she looked into the squad, she knows there are/were more than 2, so Omega's absence isn't necessarily weird...

Unless this part of this episode was originally a hunt for Omega early season plot repurposed around a new intro/ending/motivations and with the Pabu scenes in between to carry on the Omega & Crosshair relationship development.

Now this episode builds up straight to The Harbinger, i.e. the Ventress episode, i.e. the episode that tells us twice in the script itself, that we are wasting valuable season time on a question that does not matter.

From the end of episode 7 and Rex's "you have to figure out why they're after her" spiel, we are never given a compelling reason to figure it out. As Crosshair tells us in 9 - it matters not at all. It's not like the answer would change anything. And from a viewer standpoint, we were given the answer at the end of episode 3, when Emerie rushes to stop the ship being shot down.

But I have another contender for a repurposed early season storyline:

The Juggernaut. Crosshair is with them in this episode. Crosshair is the driving force behind this episode.

The big action scene of this episode quite notably is Hunter & Wrecker centric, and when Crosshair is in the room (in the Juggernaut cockpit) (aside from the shot of him dragging Rampart out of the hold) - he is in the background, doesn't speak, and is not spoken to or acknowledged.

He is likewise just floating (lol get it?) in the background during the chaos approach to Erebus, while Phee actually has a conversation with Hunter & Wrecker.

(I've been trying to decide if Crosshair looks potentially added in later to the dramatic jump on the ramp scene as well)

(should emphasize when I say things like 'added in later' I know fuck-all about animation)

Were these sequences salvaged from an earlier hunt-for-Omega story where Phee was actually part of the search and repurposed for this hasty/bananas-pacing Rampart-driven conclusion? And thus the relegation of Phee to suspiciously-arrived-right-on-time taxi driver and what-the-hell-cavern-on-Pabu-is-big-enough-for-THAT-ship?

Taken with a couple of dropped threads such as:

A sector location for Tantiss that's never again mentioned after ep2

Hemlock's "other plans" for Crosshair at the end of ep1

The bag of 30k credits Crosshair makes sure to scoop up on Lau

I am thinking we were intended for a mid-season reunion. Few episodes hunting; few episodes building up Tantiss. Maybe 2 shorter episodes condensed into the long(er) season opener to get that 5 month time jump in there?

Which then prods my curiosity about other curiously dropped threads or just irrelevancies like:

Omega's crossbow

"All our operatives" Hemlock wants notified on Lau and how few that is/(or how quickly they get killed off??)/the fact that he's yanked 4 aside despite the crucial need to get Omega back so he can make them... idk extra badass Worst Batch operatives who all bring knives to gunfights?

(sorry my salt is showing lol I hate them so much)

What the hell does Hemlock show the Emperor (WITH Nala Se in tow) in ep 3 (and was that supposed to be the Vault)?

Everything about CX-2.

...weirdly I also kind of want to call Batcher a dropped thread? Like... I don't think she needs a bigger story and she deserves her days obliviously relaxing on Pabu while everyone else almost dies. But I do wonder if she wasn't envisioned for... some further role after ep 3. Besides therapy dog and snow shovel. But if not I'm not mad about it lol.

My instinctive thought wondering, if mid-season was meant to be a reunion after at the very least a Phee/Fennec/Durand sequence of hunting episodes and maybe another ep or 2 on Tantiss (or another ep on the run? or an earlier Emerie-centric episode?), what sort of season 3 (of 4) finale might that be building towards.

I have a hard time imagining it'd be Point of No Return and repeating the end of season 2 but maybe....

Or my first thought was:

building into a season 4 follow-through-on-Echo's-whole-story-since-season-1 plot, tying in his and Rex's side, the politics...

with a touch of

to tease us into season 4 with Crosshair's making peace with the "regs" as he completes a longer season redemption arc and CX-Tech (yes, CX-Tech) crawling out of the river (possibly after getting beat to hell starts cracking the conditioning a bit?).

(This potential finale thought does however leave hanging curious threads such as the CX-2 & Phee scene and the forever fascination with CX-2 shooting his own pilot in 3.11 so maybe not)

(but setting it at the end of the season does satisfy my 'doesn't Omega look a lot older between eps 5 & 6?' thing that's been bugging me for months lol)

Now. If they found out when they were already well on their way to done with season 3 (and started on 4?) that they were getting 4 canceled... how do you hastily jam a resolution into place?

Condense your reunion to one passage of time Tantiss ep/one hunting ep/escape ep/hijinks&reconnect ep.

Replace CX-Tech stakes with kids-in-the-basement stakes.

Maneuver Emerie & Omega to facilitate a nice smooth resolution to the kids plot to make way for a grittier action plot for everyone else. (I know I know no one else is on my episode 10 Emerie making no sense + lego brick vault vendetta but it is what it is)

Replace a bigger Tantiss clone assault with Tarkin shuttering it despite the emperor's eagerness in ep3 and going from "more prisoners than we thought!" to a manageable amount for a 4 man infiltration team + 1 evac shuttle.

Conveniently ignore the second mountain.

And have CX-2 cut off Crosshair's hand to emphasize no-really-he's-totes-mcEvil and deserves the spear and none of the clones are redeemable after all but then not have time to worry about the traumatic aftermath of it lol.

(+ keep your Ventress ep however you can fit it because someone said you had to) (I guess?)

Anyway all this to say: if a canceled 4th season is what happened, perhaps season 3 originally had room to breathe. Perhaps we got some actual Pabu time, and Omega meeting the cadets, and some reminder the Pabu friends existed before they just existed to be threatened in 3.11. Perhaps Phee was more than a ride to Erebus. Perhaps it took Hunter & Crosshair more than an episode to make nice. Perhaps the Ventress episode was... uh. Relevant? Force-sensitive Omega maybe?

Perhaps they took Omega and her 30k credits to Canto Bight, idk.

And perhaps, well - CX-Tech.

(Better late than dead)

[yanderes-galore]

Could you make a general concept with the prompts H-1 (writeformesinpie), 45 (yandere-daze) and 13 from (ddarker-dreams) for Arya Stark?

For plot, i like to imagine that Arya knew reader when they were young (Season 1) only to be separated when she runs from King's Landing. Years later, they reunite again after Arya joins the Faceless Men and returns to Westeros, but her change isn't well accepted by the reader.

Sure! I kept the pairing vague and this doesn't follow any specific plot point. It's like alternate Book Canon where she finds you although you're both adults and she's with the Faceless Men.

Sorry it seems rushed. I ran out of ideas on how to make it yandere for awhile but I think I got there...?

Prompt H-1, Prompt 45, Prompt 13

Yandere! Arya Stark Prompts H-1, 45, 13

"I would never hurt you. You know that, right?"

"I’ve been dreaming about this since I first saw you."

"A part of me wonders if what I’m doing is right… but I no longer care."

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Manipulation, Mentioned murder in the past, Deception, Kidnapping, Dubious companionship/relationship.

Becoming 'No one' was something Arya could never fully do.

Even with every disguise, Arya still knows who she is. Deep down it's probably impossible to fully get rid of Arya Stark. It doesn't matter how many faces she puts on to blend in.

She's still Arya...

She can never seem to separate herself from her attachments.

As part of the Faceless Men and a skilled assassin, Arya knows how to be someone else. She knows how to swap faces and fool others. She's no longer that young lost girl anymore...

She's a killer... a wolf pup all grown up.

Arya should've known you wouldn't accept what she is now. After all, when you knew her you both were ten and in Winterfell. Although, Arya doesn't bother asking for acceptance at this point. Not morally anyways.

It's been a long time since she's thought of moral repercussions.

Faceless Men are good at hearing secrets. It took a while, but when Arya came back to Westeros she heard whispers of where you could've gone. Upon fleeing from Winterfell, you had hidden away near Fairmarket Inn. With keen ears... Arya learned of someone similar to your appearance staying there.

She knew it was you.

It was not hard to pretend to be someone else and head to Fairmarket. She was used to travel... and yearned to see a familiar face. In reality, she should really leave you be, let you go like the rest of her past.

But she couldn't help but search.

When she found you, working away at an inn, she couldn't figure out how to approach you at first. It isn't easy, wearing another face and all. Yet, she urges herself to lure you away into private... Playing an entirely new role....

She takes time to research her surroundings first. She watches your routine, she watches others around you. She makes sure the coast is all clear...

Before eventually revealing herself within a room of the inn you're working at.

"Arya...?" You sound baffled and Arya can't blame you when she removes the face she wears. You didn't entirely express distaste... but you also didn't express excitement either. Just confusion.

"You don't seem happy to see me." Arya comments, disappointed in your reaction. "I would never hurt you. You know that, right?"

"Right... The Arya I knew would never hurt me..." You murmur quietly, before reluctantly meeting her gaze again. "But you aren't the Arya I knew. You're... You are something else entirely..."

"To most, I am no one." Arya admits. "To you? I'm still Arya, that very same friend from long ago. I've... been looking for you."

"Why?" You whisper, concerned. "Why bother? I simply work at an inn now, Arya. I don't understand—"

"You're important to me." Arya confesses. "Even when training... Trying to forget who I am... I could only think of you and my family."

Arya pulls you closer in a hug, shocking you even more as she relishes in the warmth you give off.

"I’ve been dreaming about this since I first saw you." Arya whispers, "When I heard you were here... I had to find you. I had to confirm it to be true. I may not be able to see Jon... or Sansa... or Bran... but I can see you."

You sigh shakily, hugging the woman back as you think to yourself. She was so much different than she was back then. When you were both at Winterfell... She was just a tomboy and a playmate to you.

You were a Karstark who moved down to Fairmarket upon news of The Red Wedding. You never expected to see a Stark after that. Yet here Arya was, in your inn, an assassin.

So much different than the young girl you once knew.

"... I have a lot of blood on my hands." Arya admits to you, pulling back yet holding your hands. "I've learned the art of death... yet here you are... playing inn keeper... It's not a bad job, I suppose... better than murder."

Arya sighs, looking you over. She's not blind to the subtle fear in your eyes. You don't like what she's become. She's a skin changer... a warg... and so much more.

Yet she's a wolf in the same... just not your wolf it seems.

"Please don't fear me." She pleads softly, watching as you pull your hands away. You look uneasy... Arya knew something like this would happen. Yet... She wishes you'd look past what she's become.

She wants you to care for her as you did when you were kids.

Unfortunately... you don't... but Arya doesn't want to let you go.

She can't.

Even when she should.

"... You know you're in danger here, right?" Arya asks, seeing more fear spark in your eyes. It was a half truth. Fairmarket was still close to Winterfell... but Arya doubted the Boltons would collect you here.

However, Arya couldn't bear to leave you again...

"What do you mean?" You ask, nervous.

"The Boltons and Freys could be looking for you, deem you as a traitor even." Arya continues her act of deception, an easy act for her at this point. "Let me bring you somewhere safer... like The Reach. Or somewhere further? Braavos? Just the two of us?"

"Arya... I'll be fine here." You frown. "You... look, we should really part ways. I missed you, yes... but..." You try to excuse yourself, unable to look away from Arya's desperate gaze.

"... you won't come with me, then?" Arya murmurs, looking away. "Even if it was to keep you safe? Even if it was so you'd never be lonely again... and stay with me?"

You go silent, her words holding a dangerous meaning. Arya sighs dejectedly, rummaging through a satchel.

"I was hoping you'd agree with me... It would've made this easier...." Arya frowns.

Before you can reply, Arya pins you to the wall and slips three drops of a vial into your mouth. She shuts your mouth aggressively and forces you to swallow. Reluctantly you do... only to realize what she's done.

Essence of Nightshade... Three drops and you're put to sleep....

You struggle but Arya merely covers your mouth and nose. She waits until your movements slow before pulling away. Even then... she only does it enough to hold you.

She usually keeps such vials for her jobs. However... She should've known you'd be combative. After all, she isn't the same wolf you once knew...

She never would've done this if she wasn't a Faceless Man.

"A part of me wonders if what I’m doing is right… but I no longer care." Arya muses, seeing you still trying to stay awake. "You may fear me now... but I'll never hurt you."

Arya glances at a window in the inn, slowly dragging you towards it.

"I'll show you I'm the same Arya you once knew... you'll see in time."

[jolieblack]

Jolie's thoughts on

The Retired Colourman (Sherlock & Co. podcast)

This case, in ACD's original version, is the opposite of a favourite of mine. It's somewhat pedestrian, doesn’t have particularly memorable characters, doesn’t have particularly memorable deductions, and the only memorable dialogue or interaction is Holmes famously enumerating all the ways Watson should have used his charm to get the local ladies hot and bothered. Oh boy, that just changed a lot!

Lilian Barker - In ACD canon, Barker is Sherlock Holmes's "friend and rival", the other gifted and clever private investigator that just randomly pops up out of nowhere, never mentioned before and never mentioned again after… Weird, just weird. I prefer this Barker who finally gets a personality and a narrative function (other than being a painfully transparent red herring)!

Loved Sherlock going ballistic when she turns out not to have called the police, though. And how he keeps hating her even when she provides some useful evidence. (Thank you for not letting her actually solve the case though. I was worried there for a moment.)

Another plus: The deduction that the bad guy has a prosthetic leg goes absolutely nowhere in ACD canon but suddenly it becomes an important point!

Interesting dynamic between Sherlock and Inspector MacKinnon, too. Either Sherlock has realised that the police are not always idiots or MacKinnon is a very special person, in which case I want to know more about him and how he knows and why he trusts Sherlock. And how he managed to sell Sherlock & Co. to his superiors as a "third party investigation unit"!

Details I liked:

Did it take anyone else an age to realise that Amber Lee = Amberley? I‘m so slow.

John nattering away about low emission zones for a reason.

"The plot is thickening like a thick, evil… soup."

The chess metaphors! In ACD, the chess aspect just goes nowhere, except to serve as an explanation why the miserly, unsociable bad guy sometimes has a visitor at all. Great use of it here!

Sherlock "strangling" Mr Lee when he makes fun of John's injury, and then it turns out a pretty nifty move to secure evidence. (Or was it? Interesting question, hen or egg? I guess we'll be in sweet unknowing agony about this forever.)

Mariana = Mari? Sweet but uncomfortable at the same time, for obvious reasons.

I do love the confirmation that Mariana co-owns the business and is not just an employee, though.

"Don’t say juices, it’s a family show." - "You just said fuck."

John taking his frustrations out on the wall with a sledgehammer.

And then oh boy again for how dark this whole case is. Even Sherlock actually being really considerate and protecting Mariana from trauma took a pretty creepy form. Honestly, the way he said, "Follow the thought. Don‘t run away from it. It’s natural to be scared when you know what you'll find at the end of it.", I honestly expected for a moment that he was talking her into looking at the bodies, just from the tone.

I also can’t help feeling that that moment in the attic would have belonged to John, not to Mariana. I mean, yeah, she did deserve to reap the fruit of her earlier clever deductions about the water pipe system, and Watson is absent from the final resolution in ACD’s story, too… But I‘m not sure I can ever get over the fact that John did not hear Sherlock say "check mate" in that voice.

Reality check: The police are incompetent if they missed both the walled-off extension/basement and the walled-off part of the attic after a week of searching, and if they even considered taking the bad guy to court without having done that first.

Also reality check: Like with The Cardboard Box, straight up cruel and unimaginative domestic murder hits too close to home for me to be ideal entertainment, but then Joel Emory absolutely gets points for realism. What Sherlock and Mariana find at the end of the case - two human bodies having decomposed in water for a week - is straight out of ACD canon. The podcast version just calls the horror by its name, instead of elegantly glossing over it, and gets kudos from me for that.

Check out this amazing art for the episode by @abstractfrog (Sherlock and Mariana), and @subtlehysteria 's fantastic John with a sledge hammer!

[queerponcho]

Transfixed | part 6

previous part | masterlist

collage made by me with pictures from pinterest

moonknight!system x f!reader

a/n: Hello lovelieeessss!! I am back with another chapterrr. Now we are getting to the juicy part of this story!! You are about to find out about the actual role of our beloved reader and how important she actually is. I really hope it was worth the wait<3

Warnings (chapter specific): no use of Y/N, fluff, gushing about the moonboys, flustered awkward dorks, plot-twists, this part only mentiones the boys but they arent in it- (i promise the next part will feature our fav boys again.) if I missed anything or made any spelling mistakes pls don't hesitate to tell me!

Summary: whos this mysterious intruder and what do they want? (can't say more cuz spoilerzzz....)

3,800 words

You make your way into your apartment, not noticing your clothes dripping all over the floor. You replay all of the moments from this evening in your head and can’t stop yourself from breaking into a huge grin. You chuckle to yourself and feel your heart almost beat out of your chest at the memories flooding your head in huge waves. All the spots they touched on your body flaring up with heat. All of it comes to a stop when you see a white blur from the corner of your eye. Your breath hitches when you hear music playing and see the window open, suddenly very aware that you‘re not alone…

You clasp your bag to your chest and hold your breath, not daring to move a muscle in your body. Too scared that you might make your presence known to the intruder. ‘Now, there you are!! I’ve been waiting for you to come back darling. I’m in the living room-’ a sweet honeyed voice calls you over there and you follow it cautiously. You stand on the threshold to your living room and stop to breathe at the sight before you. A beautiful, tall woman stands in the middle of the room. But this is no regular woman, she has long braided black hair and dark, gold shimmering skin. Like her deep, black skin were to have been covered by a tasteful dusting of gold glitter. She was wearing a prettily draped white dress and...were those cow ears and horns on her head?? Who is this, swaying so calmly in your apartment? Before you can even ask she opens her eyes to reveal beautiful magenta colour and smiles at you brightly, easing your tense muscles and finally letting your lungs take their much needed dose of oxygen. She looks at you and an expression of concern washes over her face. ‘Sweetie what happened to you? Why are your clothes so wet? Come, sit sit’ she beckons you over to her and pats your couch, inviting you to sit down on your own furniture, like it was hers, but despite generally needing to be afraid you can’t help but feel a sense of trust and motherly energy radiating off of her, you could never imagine to feel threatened by her presence. 

‘Alright, tell me about what had you so giddy when you came in. I could sense those butterflies from miles away’ She winks at you and speaks to you like you know each other, while draping a fluffy blanket over you gingerly. As you’re about to tell her of the boys you feel a certain amount of clarity rushing back into your body when you glance over at the flowers standing on the dining-table.

They had been only a medium-sized bouquet mere hours ago, and now they had become a huge bush of carnations. They looked like they could barely squeeze into the glass vase you had previously put them in. You rushed to the kitchen counter and carefully pried them out of the tight space, searching the cabinets for a more suitable vase. The cow-like woman only watched you as you scrambled for a more suitable object, as you finally take a big pasta pot and fill it up to a third with water, before putting the abundance of carnations in it. Now…onto your much more pressing issue. ‘Who the hell are you? And what the fuck are you doing in my house, lady?’ you ask sternly while raising your eyebrows seriously, looking intimidating even while wearing a fluffy white blanket and simultaneously dripping all over the kitchen floor. You watch the tall woman stand up gracefully and she all but floats over to you. ‘I’m very pleased to finally meet you. My name is Hathor.’ She says this as if it were the most casual introduction, when really, she had just introduced herself as a member of the egyptian Ennead. She had just introduced herself as the goddess of love and beauty, aka. the mother of all. 

What the actual fuck is happening. ‘H-hathor..? As in- the goddess of love and beauty- o-of music and pleasure and, and-’ you hear a melodic laughter and she responds ‘oh my- child please, I am but a woman- although a very powerful one.’ She smiles and touches the beads of her turquoise necklace, stroking it as if in thought and you see her cow-ear flick swiftly. ‘May I ask, goddess Hath-Hathor. What exactly are you doing in my apartment?’ You try your hardest to not freak out. And yes, you believed her. How were you not supposed to believe her when she is literally shimmering gold, with magenta eyes and has literal fucking cow-horns attached to her head?

‘Oh! Right! I’m so sorry, I forget that you can’t hear my thoughts. I am trying to employ you as my new Avatar, child. I have been watching you for a few months and I think you would fit into the role perfectly.’ Hathor beamed with confidence and touched the carnations, as if rearranging them, and you see about a dozen more pop up in between the others. ‘Avatar? You mean like a prophet? Am I supposed to spread your word like-like Moses?? Am I your Moses???’

You feel yourself hyperventilating. Your breaths become shorter and the air around you hotter. The feeling of running out of air to breathe and you’re about to cover your eyes when a warm tingle runs up your arm. The tingle feels almost exactly like the one you’d feel whenever you had touched the boys. Like when you and Marc were dancing or when you held Stevens hand and wh-when Jake had his hand on your thigh when he drove you home- Hathor hugs you and all your thoughts come to a halt. She smells sweet like honey, warming up your entire body with her radiating comfort. ‘Calm down, you’re not my prophet- well, not really. At least that’s not how I look at it. I’d say you’re more like my messenger…my voice if you will.’ She parts from your embrace and looks at you warmly, while still holding on to both of your hands. ‘I want you to help me help humanity. I truly believe that we can achieve wonders together for communities all over the world. We could help further equality in your society and I could help you encourage much needed change. You kids have not come as far as we gods have hoped…The ennead has finally agreed for me to step in, and after convening with my council I chose you.’ She steps away from you and makes her way over to the kitchen. She opens your fridge, carefully lowering her head to look into it, mindful of the Solar-disc sitting between her long horns.

‘Not to disagree with a literal goddess, you know but um- well a prophet literally is the voice and messenger of god so…You really do want me to be your moses…But everything you said, it does sound really nice. I would love to help my society, always have…May I ask, what happened to your previous avatar?’ you ask cautiously not wanting to disturb her focus as she is now rummaging through your cabinets. She interrupts her search and turns to you with her hands on her waist, her black manicured fingers beautifully contrasting against the ivory white gown she was wearing. ‘She had found her true calling as a teacher and felt it was time for her to move on from her role as my ‘moses’ as you so wonderfully put it’ she turns and opens a top cabinet taking out a glass. ‘Other gods have previously forced their Avatars into servitude but I really don’t enjoy forcing anyone to do anything they don't enjoy. Being the goddess of pleasure really speaks for itself doesn’t it.’ She opens your tap and lets out water, as soon as it enters her glass it turns to milk. She takes a few sips of it and sets the half full glass on the counter and walks back over to you. ‘My cows are certain that you’re perfect for this role and after watching your for a while i can’t help but agree with their judgement…as always’ she says with her arabic accented voice- wait a second- did she just refer to her council as her cows?? ‘Excuse me, your cows?’ you ask trying to keep it respectful as you did previously asked the goddess of love “what the fuck” she was doing in your house. ‘Yes! You’re going to love them. They are my prophets, I trust them completely, they’ve been by my side for five millenia and they are like my sisters.’ She responds smiling ‘huh, ookay…cool.” so much information has been spilled onto you in the past minutes that your brain has probably suffered from an overload. You don’t question her any further and just watch her sit down on your couch, checking the bounce of it. ‘Do you have any blankets or cushions I could use?’ She is sitting down but her face is at the height of your own, reminding you of how large the goddess actually is. ‘Oh yes I d- wait, no y-your Hi- Hathor I will not make you sleep on the couch, you can take my bed I’ll sleep here’ you insist, not wanting to be the idiot who made a literal goddess sleep on a two-seater couch. ‘Nonsense sweety, I don't really need to  sleep at all, I just like to close my eyes and rest in a comfy place sometimes. You stay in your bed, you need to rest, it has  been a long day.’ ‘but I-’ ‘I insist’ you freeze at the sight of her serious eyes and stern voice. The serious expression quickly melts into her regular soft yet commanding demeanour. ‘Alright, I think it's time you go to sleep, tomorrow is a big day afterall.’ She says while settling into the little nest she’d built with your extra cushions and fluffy blankets. 

You cross your arms and stifle a yawn when you see the glowing white five on your digital clock resting on the side-table of the couch ‘what is happening tomorrow?’ your eyes are now glossy and your eyebags heavy, you barely manage to keep your eyes open when she answers. ‘I am going to test you.’ she says, eyes closed and sighing into the pillow, perfectly mimicking the demeanour of tiredness. You hear her but don’t really register her words. The only thing you can focus on is how perfectly comfy she looks, all snuggled into the couch, having made herself small to fit beneath the fluffy blanket. ‘Oh and don't think I forgot about you avoiding my question earlier. Tomorrow, I wanna know what made you so smiley when you came home at almost four in the morning.’ Your attention is now back on her words and you feel your face burn at the memories rushing to mind... His lips softly nibbling on yours and your tongue stroking his languidly and hearing him whimper at th- ‘hey! Your ‘excited’ energy is disturbing my rest. Go sleep-’ you startle at her interruption, clutching the now damp blanket more tightly and head to your bedroom murmuring a quick good night on your way out. Only to hear her yell after you. ‘Just know that now I am even more curious to know who you met up with.’ You bite your lip and quickly close your door letting out a heavy sigh. Somehow you get yourself ready for bed, even managing to take off your make-up…at least partially. Your mascara smudged on the pillow and your jewellery still on, you fall asleep within seconds.

‘Wakey-wakey sweetie!!’ you wake up to the large elegant woman ripping your blanket off of you. You shriek when you see the goddess hathor standing in your room. So meeting her hadn’t been a dream then…yeah that checks out. Hathor reaches for your curtains and pulls them back, opening the windows and letting in the cold, London spring air. ‘Noooooo- whyyyyyyyy?’ you pull your knees to your chest and drop to your side pathetically. ‘Stop whining and get up, human! We have a lot to-do before I can bring you before my beloved council.’ She glides out of your room and you hear her continuing something in the kitchen. You get up with a huff and rush to close the window. You look back at your bed, all comfy and still warm from your body-warmth, incredibly inviting…you could just lie down and catch a few minutes of sleep, lord knows you need them. Just as you reach for your bed you hear the melodious humming come to a stop ‘you better be getting ready right now! Otherwise I’ll eat these blueberry pancakes myself.'

Your eyes widen when you remember that an Egyptian deity is in your house and waiting for you with a freshly cooked breakfast. You find some sweatpants and a comfy sweater (which definitely doesn't have a hole in the left pit) and make your way to the kitchen. 

Saliva gathers in your mouth when you see the pancakes and cut up fruit perfectly arranged in your nicest plates. To be fair they weren't that fancy but just slightly nicer plates, you only used when you had company over. ‘Sit, we have a busy day ahead and it’s already noon. I let you sleep in because you need as much energy for today as possible, if we are to find out if this life is what you need and want.’ she sticks half a pancake into her mouth and continues talking ‘now…before we start with all that though, I have got to know about this person that’s got you all…transfixed.’ your eyes widen when she uses the same word Jake uttered that first time you talked. That word that has echoed in your head in his low seductive voice. The voice which fuels many of your not so child-friendly thoughts each night. Thoughts that cause those intense feelings...though pleasurable, also never quite enough to quench the thirst you feel for- ‘see this is what I am talking about. It’s truly remarkable, this has to be someone important. Please human, you have got to tell me, I am practically begging you.’ She looks at you with a mischievous glint in her magenta pools, you couldn’t say no to a goddess could you? Especially since you’ve been dying to tell someone about the boys and now you’ve got the perfect opportunity to-do so. ‘Yeah, okay- I’ll tell you.’ you say while chewing the perfect pancakes, not questioning how she made them, when you haven’t even had eggs in your fridge for about a week. She scoots closer to the edge on her chair and leans in with a grin, urging you to go on. 

‘Okay so um- there’s this guy I met in the library. He is- oh you should see him. He is gorgeous, just absolutely breathtaking.’ ‘don’t you have a picture or something? You humans have those portable cameras now, no?’ ‘Yes- yes we do…but no I don’t have a picture, that would be weird…I do have drawings though…’ you don’t know why you’re telling her that. It’s just impossible to hold back and you wanna show someone the pretty guy you’d made out with. ‘They still do portraits of people? is he famous?’ ‘well no…I drew him a few times…for character studies of course, nothing creepy or anything...’ you chuckle awkwardly. ‘Mhm riiight, cuz drawing a stranger isn’t weird.’ she arches her left eyebrow upwards and smirks a little bit, completely looking through your innocent ploy. ‘Right- lemme go get them.’ you stand up in a hurry and leave the goddess to eat her pancakes. Opening the drawer in your bedside-table you come up empty. ‘I can’t find them!’ you shout at no-one in particular. ‘What do they look like?’ you hear her call back from the kitchen. ‘They’re all in a navy notebook-’ ‘Oh- you mean these??’ you dart to the kitchen quickly and see her standing over your open sketchbook. ‘Wh-’ ‘I found it yesterday in your bag, and before you say anything. I got here early okay? I thought you’d be home so I had to keep busy. I gotta say…some of these drawings are…very enticing, human. Almost a bit too indulgent, but really they only affirm why you'd fit perfectly into the role as my avatar. I understand your fixation, sweetie… he is certainly easy on the eyes.’ You watch her stare at your drawings, her large and long fingers flipping through the pages. She looks up happily and you watch her face brighten further when she spots your flushed face. Making you turn away to look out the window, the sun shining through the clouds, lighting up the otherwise grey part of town. 

‘Okay, that's enough-’ you quickly reach for your notebook and pull it away from the gold shimmering goddess. She lets you keep some of your dignity and doesn't prod any further. ‘Alright honey, let’s get to work then!’ She stands up swiftly and turns around to store away the clean plates. Wait a minute…the clean plates? When the fuck did she clean those? Her powers seem pretty limitless and if there’s a possibility that the powers she gives you will magically make your dirty dishes clean..?- then you’re gonna sign the fuck up to being her knight or whatever it is you’ll need to be. Right as you’re thinking that she turns around and conjures up a tiny little clock that looks like a winged solar disk. It doesn’t appear to show the time though, at least it didn’t look like a regular watch. ‘Oh! We are running late. We have to meet the council tonight and I've got lots to tell ya before we can go there.’ The “clock” disappears and a tiny parchment takes its place. She reads it carefully, mumbling her notes back to herself. ‘Okay so what are we gonna do? Are you gonna train me in martial arts and give me nun-chucks? Or are we gonna go save some people like that mysterious Moonknight guy on the news?’ you hadn’t realised before this moment how exciting this all actually was. You’ve mostly just been focused on not freaking out over the actual goddess, Hathor standing in your kitchen and havent had the chance to be excited over being a literal “chosen one”. ‘Actually- It’s good that you mention this Moonknight…The reason the Ennead has allowed me to interfere with a new avatar is actually because of a recent “altercation'' caused by the god who created said knight.’ She looks up from the parchment and turns around making her way to the couch. You follow her, intrigued by the mentioned importance of the vigilante you’ve watched jump over the roofs and bridges on TV. ‘Why? What did he do?’ you watch her sit down and she lets out a deflated breath ‘It's a long story…I might find the time to tell you some time but right now, is not that time. What you need to know is that he is unpredictable and extremely dangerous. And to be sure you should apply the same caution towards the knight.’ She says seriously, and fluffs the pillows behind her, trying her best to make the old couch meet her godly standards. 

‘Hathor, may I ask you something?’ your voice sounds unsure and timid. ‘Of course honey, what is it?’ she says, averting her eyes from the parchment and shifting her attention completely to you. Her eyes are glittering with intention and she makes you feel safe and comfortable once more. ‘I-i’ you exhale exasperatedly ‘How do you know that I am the right person to be your “voice”- like what makes you think I fit into that passionate, pleasurable or I don’t know- like…fertile image..?’ you don’t even look her in the eyes. You’re a person who's had many crushes but never actually got to love anyone…not genuinely. Maybe you just had said “I loved you” to people because you wanted to feel the feeling, not entirely because you really felt it. So Hathor choosing you, a woman who has never actually loved anyone romantically or really felt loved and cherished in that way…that women should become the messenger of pleasure, fertility and motherhood? ‘I told you about how I’ve been watching you right?’ she pauses and you nod ‘well, I’ll tell you about the time I was sure I’d found the perfect candidate, maybe that’ll make you see where my values really lie.’ 

She sits back on the recently fluffed pillows and begins to tell you about how she watched you for months, how you would draw people and what she discovered while watching you do that. ‘You would go to parks and coffees to draw people going about their day. They’d be doing their homework or mabe crying on a bench, some of them out of laughter and some in despair. You would capture their emotions and take a- a little glimpse into them. Putting yourself in their shoes and empathising with them and their state of mind. I was blown away by the raw emotion and true magic I was able to witness while watching you. In a time where you humans have managed to become such a secluded lonely people…you still found a way to follow your innate feeling to relate and cherish other people. You give them space in your world, and even if they don’t know it, you care for them. That is what is the most important thing, you care. Care for people and how they are doing. About what they need and how you can help. Once in a while I’d give you little nudges and see which paths you would choose. And every time, you chose to help instead of ignoring the troubled people or animals. Like that time I blocked off the mainstreet and you had to take a detour through a…less fortunate part of town. It was freezing and you weren’t really moving due to traffic. You were bored and were looking out the windo-’

‘The shelter- I-I saw the shelter, The doors where only open for a second and I saw all those people inside and I knew there was a big chance that there weren’t enough volunteers working there to help out all those in need…’

‘So you went in, even after the long shift you had and those stupid costumers had yelled at you, you still parked your car and went into the shelter. Spending the rest of the evening serving them soups and mashed potatoes an-and handing out blankets. Child, I am the goddess of love and beauty and all of that…but first of all I am the mother, the mother of all. I am here to take care of people who need help and I think you want to do the same thing. That calling is inside of you. And I need you to help me take care of people because too many are suffering. I can no longer standby and watch like the rest of the Ennead. That's the one thing me and Konshu have in common.’

Hathor gets interrupted by your phone buzzing on the coffee table. Its facing up and you see the caller ID and feel your heartbeat accelerating. In all low-cap letters the name ‘steven<3’ is glaring at you, taunting you to pick up and you look at Hathor when she swiftly swipes over your phone to pick up the call. ‘What the fu- what are you doing?!’ you whisper almost inaudibly at her. She arches her left brow and crosses her arms, sitting back she watches you smugly. ‘He-Hello? Love, are you there?’

a/n:I hope you guys enjoyed the new chapter and that it was worth the wait! as i have said before I have had to work alot more bcs a bunch of people are falling out due to sickness and holidays. I am so sorry that i can't post as frequently but i do wanna write other things besides this story aswell. I hope i can keep up a somewhat regular updating schedule but if i don't post for a bit don't think I've given up on this story cuz I love writing it!! I hope you stick around for more(❁´◡`❁)

If you enjoyed as always consider liking/ reblogging/ sharing or commenting! thanks lovies<3

I have done extensive research on Hathor and the ennead, i hope i am not offending anyone with what i have written. If theres anything that should be changed or seems insensitive please do not hesitate to reach out and just know that i would never disrespect anyone on purpose.

Also the thing about the cows being her council and her having cow-like features are very much factual. The turqoise necklace was smth she was pictured wearing and she was usually depicted with gold skin but i thought that might be a bit weird to imagine. Like in my head they would look like those golden clones in 'guardians of the galaxy 2' lol. So i made her black with gold shimmering skin. If yall ever want me to explain what went into her character design and want to know more lore please tell me! I'd love to share hehe. (<- current hyperfixation lol)

The next chapter will feature the boys again and maybe even in their full moonknight glory? who knows hehe (me either i haven't written it yet so we shall see)

The lovely people in my taglist: @lilladyblink14 @lemongirl5910 @sunnycl0ver @its-me-mila @urlocalgeek @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @mangoslushcrush

please notify me if you want to be added/ removed from the Taglist<3

[mari-lair]

Aye is me again!

I was just wondering if you had any theories on what Teru's dream involving Aoi may be. He says she's necessary for his dream and I wonder if its because she's a direct descendant of the kannagi line?

I hope his dream includes Akane too bc even if they won't end up together I just KNOW they'll be besties either way (am soft for Akane being the 1st person he shows his true self to outside his family)

Hello! :D I have no hope Aidairo will treat this sub plot with care, (or any plot that includes Aoi) so this will be more of a rambly analysis than a theory.

I am inclined to believe Teru’s dream doesn’t have anything to do with her Kannagi blood because of how he approaches Aoi compared to Nene.

Nene is also a Kannagi, but Teru never searches for Nene or gives her much thought, he even let her have a crush on what he sees as a dangerous supernatural since it is what she wants so who is he to reprimand a dying girl? Whenever they are together he flatters her but never asks about her life or tries to make her linger in his presence. 

He does show interest in Nene being a Kannagi but it does not feel like he sees her as a weapon or an important tool that he can use to achieve a ‘goal’. She is still a ‘silly girl’ or a ‘funny girl’ in his mind, someone he is kind to when they are face to face, but he doesn't go out of his way to do much for her.

Aoi is canonically very hard to get close to, so trying to 'be her friend just to use her later’ would be contrived and too stupid for a character built up to be smart, considering Nene (who had a crush on him throught a big part of the manga) would be a far better target to get his hands on Kanagi powers.

Teru actively goes out of his way to try to learn more about Aoi and make her stay with him, even if he has to resort to manipulation, he will do it to spend more time with her.

It also bears mention that Akane's tactless way to ‘woo’ Aoi is what he hates the most about Akane. Not Akane supernatural contract or, any of his behavior with Teru, but how he approaches Aoi:

Teru trusts Akane, but he gets disgusted with how he put her on a pedestal, how his obsession gets on creepy territory at times, yet, when Akane and Aoi work things up and are able to properly communicate, Teru gets grumpy and mopes about their almost kiss. A kiss that shouldn’t be significant if what he was interested in was her Kannagi status.

He listens to Akane go on and on about how ‘sweet and kind and pretty’ Aoi is without ever shutting him down, and despite loving to annoy the clock keeper, he never disagrees or implies that Aoi isn't as amazing as Akane claims, so he does have a very positive view of Aoi.

I can’t say for sure what his dream is, but it feels related to Aoi as a person, not her blood or ancestors. Is a desire of his own.

Minamotos are very connected to supernaturals, and they are pushed to put their duties first, but being disconnected from other, and able to have a level head in dangerous situations doesn’t make them any less human or emotional: They value their family, their friends, their desires, occasionally putting them above their job for selfish reasons.

Now let’s talk about a theory Maagi shared with me, that the more i thought about it, the more plausible it seemed: If Teru was in love with Aoi, it wouldn't be the first time a Minamoto fell in love, or at the very least, was very attracted, to an Akane.

The manga makes a point to heavily imply that Kanagis usually live with loved ones at the start of their lives, and that even in the old ages where Sumire’s story takes place, it's seen as cruel to abandon a child so young.

They mention her family wanted to ‘get away from her resentment’ but considering how oblivious and happy she had been to “marry God”, eager to declare a demon her husband, it is far more likely they wanted to get rid of Sumire for reasons out of her control, like her bloodline.

From Sumire pale eyes, which have hints of the Akane purple we know, but is mostly blue, to her expertise in using spiritual tools (from her knife, to bracelets, to even a protective barrier)  it’s just far too much of a coincidence.

Even her personality seems like a mix between Teru and Aoi.

And I can see the argument that her exorcism tools are things that every Kannagi can use, since Aoi can use them too, but it is still strange that Sumire has so many tools associated with the Minamoto clan, when every other sacrifice has none. Not even a bracelet.

The bracelet is not part of a Kannagi’s uniform. Or a precaution of No.6 that comes with his duties. It’s a Minamoto’s gift. Which makes Sumire feel more personal than ‘just another sacrifice girl’, like her protection matters for someone.

This leads me to how Teru gave Aoi a bracelet the second she got mixed with supernaturals, and let her keep it,

He never offered this kind of protection to anyone else, not even Nene, the girl that lives in danger.

So even if the fandom will cry at the idea, there is a lot to indicate Teru is genuinely interested in Aoi. The seeds are there, Aidairo was just clunky when hinting his interest (I’m still baffled an interaction as important as the convenience store one is in a spin off.)

And I am sure his dream includes Akane! Akane is his best friend, even when he wants to spend time with Aoi, he isn’t opposed at all to Akane tagging along.

He values Akane in a completely different way than he values Aoi, but is so clear he has tons of fun with the two Aois!

(There is a reason I would be chill if his crush was either Aoi or Akane, he acts in such a way that no matter who he has a crush on, it is still obvious he really values them both)

[xxbrightshadowxx]

How the hell did I learn about the 9th Amulet book through two brothers arguing in the backseat behind on a two hour plane trip from Arizona? I thought they were joking at first till I searched it up and it’s real and it’s coming out very soon. So after I learned that I decided to re-read the Amulet series up till 8 and decided to tell whoever is willing to read this my thoughts!

Clarification beforehand though, I do enjoy Amulet. It was one of my favorite pieces of media for a few years and even inspired me to create my own story similar to it. While I may come off a bit hatful and aggressive, I do like this series but that doesn’t mean I don’t have my fair share of problems with it

Books 1

So I’m going off the same rating scale that I use for movies so go check out my Trolls Band Together review to know what each rating means and just replace movie/film to with book. Anyways I give this book, 6/10. I enjoyed this book. This was the first graphic novels series I read and I was excited to know what happened next. I also loved how the robots and the robot house looked. I don’t have any problems with the first book. Primarily because it’s way too early to have any problems.

The reason why I rate it low though, is because while I enjoy it, it’s not my favorite. It didn’t do much to really impress me nor draw my attention. It did just enough to make me wanna see what happens next.

Book 2

With the second book I give it a 6.8/10 right between 6.5 and 7. Why? Well for starters I enjoyed the Elf plot line. To me, when I first read the series was much more interesting then the main one for some reason. This is the book where we meet Leon. Leon, for the most part was an interesting character. Not to mention we get some world building through him about the elf king and being a stone keeper.

Navin’s plotline, while useful to some degree, wasn’t my favorite. Of course it’s important but I was less invested than I should’ve. That might just have been a personal problem I have with Navin later in the series but we’ll get to that later.

My only problem with this is Luger. Now, Luger is a good villain and I found him intimidating when I first read the second book. I think my problem really stems from the fact that this is the only book where Luger gets to be a villain. This should be a book 3 problem but book 2 is where he is defeated.

Book 3

Book 3 was my favorite when I was younger and it still holds the place as one of my favorite amulet books in the series to this day. I give it a good 7.5/10. This book does a lot of things right in my opinion. I like the action sequences and the new information about Trellis backstory proving again that he is the most interesting character. I also found Rico and Enzo funny believe it or not. They are a fun addition to the party.

However, my problem was the robots. Miskit and Cogsly were just there most of the time. They didn’t really guide Emily like they were set up to be. I didn’t feel anything when they got captured. Which is not something you want your readers to feel when something bad happens. I also found Luger’s personality change strange. I expected him to be a bit more hostile and condescending after being defeated. Granted, you could argue it was the stone but still, it was odd.

Book 4

I have mixed feelings about this book. This is where certain problems that I have with Kazu start to show. First of all, I give this one a 7.5/10 as well. I was never sure if I should trust Max until the very end. I never understood Max. He was suspicious and I thought he had bad intentions some times and other times I thought for a moment maybe he did have good intentions for Emily.

I also like Alyson mostly because she felt much more real. She was fun and I liked her character. Leon, Rico, and Enzo have their moment, the prison break which I enjoyed reading. I also like the Elf racism while Trellis and Luger are at the prison. Granted, it’s brief but it’s to be expected and it does give some insight on what other people think about Elves. I also liked Vigo. I was glad to see another stone keeper on the good and he also came with more world building which I’m always glad to see.

However, Miskit and Cloglsy were both weak parts and I was confused about how everyone was dead and stone and Max’s agenda for a while. I had to re-read certain parts to fully grasp what was happening.

Book 5

Book 5 was a 7/10. I don’t have many thoughts. For one I am mad they split up the original party. Karen, Miskit, Cloglsy, and Leon felt like they were meant for more before they got shoved in the brook closet. Sure, Cloglsy is here with Navin but it isn’t much. I do enjoy seeing Navin and Alyson hanging out, that’s fun. Max’s backstory is sad..he tried helping his friend and her family from prison. Only for it to backfire horribly in his face and be thrown into prison for trying to be a good person. His hatred and need to revenge for his dead friend is such an interesting concept for a villain and he poses such a genuine threat and I love it.

Then there is the about the voice. I am not gonna lie, not a big fan of it. The reveal that the voice is the elf king felt odd and sort of out of place. I don’t know. I have mixed feelings about it.

Book 6

Max. Max, max, max. All I got to say is f-ck you, Kazu Kibuishi for screwing over such an interesting character. This book gets a 5.1/10. The utter and total whiplash I got when Max wanted to work with Trellis, Emily, and Vigo gave me migraines. There was no build up and it was so random. And his death, are the FUCKING kidding me. This just felt like a lazy way to write out a character. Max knew that Layra wouldn’t approve of his actions and that’s why he asked for forgiveness. Then he tried to justify with her and it’s such horse crap! No to mention, it was so fricking anticlimactic and just lazy!

I also wasn’t a big fan of Navin’s side plot. Also something reoccurring is that Emily is just there. She doesn’t push the narrative because she has no goals. She just does heroic stuff because she feels she has to. Not because she wants to. It makes her feel flat. Which is disappointing since she had potential to be great.

The reason why I don’t put this as a three is because the scene where they save the elves and Trellis announces himself to be the real king, is cool. Not to mention I liked Riva. She’s a character that had great potential. However this is not enough to save this book.

Book 7

Oh, firelight. You are the embarrassing sibling in the Amulet series. I give you 3/10. First off, one good thing I’ll say is I am glad we are continuing the theme of lost. Even if it feels weird, pacing wise. That’s it. That’s the only thing I really enjoy about this book.

First off I didn’t like Pil, Alyson, and Navin’s storyline. It was just there and it took up too much page time. Second, Gabilan. Oh, Gabilan. He was also just there. We get his backstory, he does some stuff and then he dies. He’s a plot device and while if you really think about it, everyone is a plot device, Kazu didn’t try to hide the fact that he is a plot device. Also the ending. TRELLIS. YOU ARE TELLING YOU DID EVERYTHING TO TRY AND STOP HER FROM BECOMING A BIRD! WHAT THE F—

Book 8

Where do I begin. First off, this book was a 0/10.

And now my problems. First off the si fi outer space plot like win Navin was so boring. Oh my god. I felt nothing. But that. That part was least of my concerns. My concerns was everything else. First of all, Trellis and Vigo got nerfed so easily that it annoys me. They stop the army and that’s fine, though they did it without trying. And that’s it for them. In the entire book. I have several issues with them shoving Riva, Trellis, and Vigo in the closet.

But my biggest issue is Emily and the void. First of all how the hell did she get out so easily. Was this even an issue if she just left without any problems any help. WHY DID SHE NEED NO HELP! If it was that easy to leave the void, why did it take people years to get out. What the fuck. Also what the fuck is with the future Emily bullshit?! TIME PARADOX ARE A THING KAZU. THERE IS A REASON NOT MANY PEOPLE DESL WITH TIME TRAVEL. Also who the hell is Moze’s dad?! Why does he have to her son?! Kazu, why?! You missed the mark by a landslide.

Also the elf king. WHAT. THE. FUCK. IT WAS SO FRICKING EASY TO DEFEAT HIM. JUST HAD TO TAKE OFF HIS DAMN MASK. TELL ME THIS. IF THE ELF KING WAS THAT EASY TO DEFEAT, WAS HE EVER A REAL THREAT IN THE FIRST PLACE?! NO! WE HAVE BEEN BUILDING UP TO THE ELF KING AS THR BIG BOSS SINCE BOOK 2 AND WE DEFEAT HIM IN THE MOST ANTICLIMACTIC WAS POSSIBLE ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! NOW THE MAIN THREAT IS A BUNCH OF SHADOWS?! WHY?! WHY! AND IF YOU TELL ME THAT THAT ISNT WHAT BOOK 9 IS ABOUT IT STATES IN THE AMZON DESCRIPTION: “Emily finally understands the stone's power and what she must do to defend Alledia from the shadows.”

ALSO THE FACT THAT EMILY IS ALIVE SEEMS LIKE A NO BIG DEAL TO VIGO AND TRELLIS ALSO THEY JUDT LER HER LEAVE TO GO KILL A BUNCH OF SHADOWS ALONE?! ALSO OLD EMILY WAS THERE TO GIVE EMILY HER STAFF AT THE END. AGAIN, TIME PARADOXS ARE A THING KAZU.

Overall thoughts:

It’s obvious that Kazu Kibuishi wrote this story without a proper outline. What does that mean? It means Kazu didn’t know how he was going to end the story or the middle. He knew the beginning and instead of trying to figure out and plan the entire story, he wrote what he thought of right on the spot. When waverider comes out I will buy it and read it. I will also most likely rate it and write down my thoughts. Till next time though, if you actually took the time read this post and indulge in my thought process and ideas.

[cutegirlmayra]

Aye, Aye, Capt'n!!!!

Note: All the obstacles listed are basically what's in the above mentioned Anon requests XD I just didn't want to have to describe everything when they did it so well! <3

PROMPTS ARE ON SHUT DOWN, LOCKED UP TIGHT WITH A ZIPLOCK BAGGIE, DO NOT PUT MORE REQUESTS FOR WRITING INTO THE PRISON WHICH IS THE INBOX, Thank you~

However, do I like a 'Hi, I love this and that <3' every now and then. Peace and love, My Cuties~

Prompt:

War had ruined most hearts against the sunny light of hope… it was a dark time, hardly counts to call it the ‘worst’ since most refuse to acknowledge that time should even consider it. To most, it was a mistake.

Many looked to the basking Sonic with quiet anger, seeing him up on a ruined pillar that had fallen on some poor sap’s rooftop. They saw this as an open rebellion of sorts, as though their ‘hero’ was ‘too good’ to help with reconstruction efforts.

This soured their hearts, as they had all mourned his supposed passing… now they envied the time they thought him better than this.

Amy, sensing the hostility, requested a plot of land to not be cleared yet. With the trash, she constructed obstacles, feats of daring intique, and even thrills in hopes of getting Sonic and the rest of the remaining survivors a entertainment spectacle to lose themselves in.

Maybe… sparking love once more for their daring, dashing hero again.

However… Sonic was a fickle sort of heart. Always darting around, Amy couldn’t find the time to actually stick his feet to the ground long enough to engage him in these ‘sports’ of sorts.

Not giving up, though exhausted, she asked for more time from Knuckles and Tails happily took her spot to cover for her.

She was determined to make Sonic care… there was no doubt in her mind that he did, but no one saw the actions a hero did when alone… and no one was watching.

‘How do I make them understand him?’ She thought to herself, getting a bungie chord secured and ready, locking it in place. “How…” She arched her eyes, in worry. “How do I show them who he truly is?”

At night, dead in its darkness, Sonic traveled hundreds of miles… searching the ground with due diligence, he would race back with seeds of every different kind of plant life he could find–down to the smallest grain of mustard seed.

He would run and scatter from his hands the seeds into the wake of his wind, and thereby, he was healing the earth… digging out channels of land to make small canals for water to be brought to the new seedlings, and he did this all without a single eye upon him… except, when Amy tracked his location one night, that is.

She took out her tracker and followed in his footsteps, covering her mouth when her eyes were alight with green… and all sorts of beautiful colors from the freshly watered plants springing up again.

It was so far from the city… of course no one would interfere with it.

But Amy clenched her heart, she knew the people would still think Sonic a decadent, his credence simply being that he never helped the living civilians and rebellion people whom he led… caring more for ridiculous plants than their own wellbeing.

But Amy knew in her heart that this was important work, too… No matter how many homes are rebuilt, if the earth was damaged, so would their futures be…

“I have to make them see.” She hit the large, steel spike into the ground adamantly, sweat forming on her forehead as she wiped it off, ‘He’s so kind.’ she teared up, gritting her teeth, ‘How dare they say he doesn’t care! If they saw the beauty of that place… of the wide and green miles upon miles he’s worked so hard to restore… they’d see he is on their side… just… in a different way!’

She hammered and hammered… growing more upset, ‘Sonic..’ Her heart cried out and she fell to her knees, “How do I make them understand..?”, ‘How do I get them to see your heart… without actually showing them your private passion project?’

She wiped her eyes with her arm… before hearing a familiar spinning sound, like a pinball spin-up.

“H-huh?” She turned to see Sonic blazing through her track, “Oh!” She was elated to see him… but then…

“Wait!” She rose straight up, “No, no, no!!!” She raced forward, wanting to stop him! ‘If he completes the obstacle course and thrill rides… No one will see it and laugh with us at his accomplishment!’, “Sonic!!!”

She raced after him with her hands outstretched along the track, like a true test of courage and strength, as Sonic was literally destroying the track as it wasn’t done yet while completing it.

He was having a ball!

Amy quickly had to run to get on the track, unable to save it, she just tried to keep up and dodge the crumbling setup built from the ruins of the area. “Soooniicc!!!” She tried to balance along a beam as he swung from rail to rail, smirking the whole way as he was enjoying the strange setup, not looking back, always moving forward…

‘Why isn’t he looking back?’ She saw the railing swing had snapped on one side, and jumped to the bars to climb up the rope and move along that way.

Sonic only halted at the bungie chord, putting a finger to his chin.

“This is meant to be for all to see! To do it with me! As a game!” Amy cried out, but Sonic tied the rope around him… She had to hurry before he-!”

“Waaaiiittt!!!” Amy grabbed his waist, as Sonic smiled and took hold of her, jumping. “AHHHH!!!!”

Sonic held her the rest of the way through, leaping over large rubber balls, spin-dashing through punching bags, and narrowly avoiding the water traps too.

Scaling a climbing slope, he threw Amy up top and then made it the rest of the way no problem.

He hit a button and laughed, “I did it!” He put his hands straight out, “Yes!” as the whole of the entire area crumbled to pieces, and smashed over other parts of the track to completely fail and fall, slashing big portions of the setup to rumble once more…

He put his hands on his hips, “Huh, wonder why Eggman randomly put this track out in the middle of no where, huh, Amy?” He looked down at her, “... Amy?”

She was on all fours, shaking…

“... Amy, are you okay-?” He went to reach for her hand, bending down but she turned her head away, silently looking as though growling at him in her head. 

Her eyes were covered in shadows… “Why don’t you listen?”

His outstretched hand paused.

“This isn’t a game… Well, it was- but it was meant to be adored by millions of suffering fans who needed to see you do it!” She gripped the steel upon rusty steel flooring of the top of the tower. “You just… you don’t stop and think, you just… you just do it!” She cried, “Sonic The Hedgehog… Do you care about anyone’s hard work besides your own!?” She looked up at him and it cut air off between the two of them.

He stepped back, his arms out to the side of himself now.

Amy’s eyes were blurred by her emotions, her tears like blobs of weighted mass, she couldn’t wipe them from her eyes as more just kept coming… like a floodgate had been opened.

“I don’t get it… I’m the one that doesn’t understand you.” She lowered her head, “I’m so sorry… I shouldn’t have said all of that…” She cried into her hands, “I worked so hard… so people could see a different side of you… But… this is all they see.” She gestured to the ruined obstacle course and thrilling feats she had been working on. “I… I don’t want to give up on you… or the people… or myself.” She lowered her hands to her lap, now sitting on her knees.

“Sonic…” She looked up at him, his face still distorted by her tears. “Why do you do your works in the dark?”

Realizing in that sentence what she was finally talking about, his shoulders relaxed and he took a deep breath.

“I’m not offended, Amy…” He put a hand behind his head, scratching it a bit to loose some of the awkward tension that had arisen. To him, this had come out of left field, literally no where, and he was expected to catch a baseball he didn’t even know was pitched. “Just taken aback, is all.”

“...” Amy said nothing, her head lowering down, as though distraught that that was his first reply.

He looked worried, and smiled gently as he looked over the track. “... I’ve seen you working on this, Amy.” He admitted, as her head came back up, and she got herself straightly up right away onto her feet.

“Then why did you destroy it!? Why’d you say it was Eggman’s doing!?” She shook her fists, “Why did you-…” Her voice broke a bit, “I always thought I had to entertain you, Sonic… that I couldn’t keep up, so I might as well keep you around by making a good effort on my end… but even then… I’m tried, Sonic.” She closed her eyes, as Sonic twitched and put his fingers to his heart, looking down as though feeling literal pain there.

“That sank pretty low.” He admitted, his tone sounding more heartbroken then ever. He couldn’t hide that.

“You’ve done… nothing for others to witness.” She rubbed her eyes, “I can’t keep trying to make them see the real you, Sonic… or even love you, anymore.”

He smiled and turned to her, “I never asked to be ‘entertained’, Amy… No friend should have to feel like they’re catering to one or the other.”

Amy’s head shot up at that.

“If you’re tired, it’s because you’ve been trying to grab at something that just isn’t there. No one can control another’s emotions… you aren’t responsible for how I act, or how other people feel, Amy…”

Amy got wobbly, so Sonic held out a hand, catching her. “... It’s the moments people hold personal… that make them heroes, Amy.” He lowered his head, “I never asked to be a hero… I just became one… because I couldn’t hide myself anymore.” He smiled, “Good deeds or not, I live by my own creed… I don’t need cheers or approval from others… I do what I want to do, and it just so happens that saving the world, protecting my friends and others,... those are things I enjoy doing.” He helped her back to her feet, her hands gripping his arms as though never wanting to be let go of them.

“But… why can’t you… be celebrated openly, Sonic?” She shook her head, “I don’t want to hear people speaking ill of you…”

“You’re burnt out, Amy… worrying about how other people view me.” He rubbed the top of her head, affectionately. “Eggman made this mess… but you made another, putting your time into something that wasn’t your problem to deal with in the first place.” He lightly pulled her head to his chest, dropping his own head to hers. “Amy… Whether people like what I do or not, I would hope in my heart… that you’d at least choose to accept it, accept me… and for what I am, I accept all of you… even the parts that worry about me.” He smirked and moved her out of his embrace. “Life’s no fun if you’re always waiting for someone to witness you doing it.” He gave her a wink and a thumbs up, “You miss too many opportunities that way.”

She couldn’t help but feel there was some truth in that, “... The best things…” She sniffled, rubbing the back of her nose against her gloved hand, looking at it as though disgusted, but having no alternative. “Are what’s unseen…”

Sonic nodded, “My merit isn’t credited by those that can view it… it’s what I know I did, Amy. So have faith that people will warm up to us all again, you’ll see.” He grinned, leaning towards her, “Keep a smile on that pretty face of yours, and quit playing in the trash, alright?” He rubbed her cheeks, getting some dust off of them.

She giggled, “Sonic… you’re the best and the worst at this!” She pushed him and he stumbled, wobbling off the edge of the tower as Amy placed her hands on her cheeks and swayed repeatedly back and forth, “Ohh~ You sweet talker, you~”

She blinked her eyes… “Sonic?”

She looked over to see he was gripping the edge of the tower.

Looking over, she saw him with chibi tears spraying out of his eyes, “HELLLP MEEE!!!” He cried out, “AMMYY!!!”

She immediately gasped and reached down, “Oh, OHH!! Sonnniccc!!! I’m so sorry!”

“Wah-hah-ha, why’d you make it so tall!?” He wiggled his feet out as she hoisted him up, looking down and getting freaked out.

When she got him up, he laid across her and starting laughing.

She blinked her eyes again but he just rolled off of her, “That sure was fun! I’m glad I got to be here with you… Amy.” He smiled and put a hand on his stomach, “What should we do next, huh?”

She smiled, “First… you’re gonna do all my work I left behind.” She narrowed her eyes, “You’re gonna take responsibility for your actions… and you’re going to at least clear up the misunderstandings.”

He looked as though she didn’t get what he was saying, but sighed, “Fine. If it makes you happy… Amy.” He closed his eyes and put his hands behind his back, “But first…” He tilted his nose up, “Can you smell that?”

She tried to, “Smoke? Oil?” She guessed, but he kept shaking his head lightly.

“Nah… keep trying.” He smiled gently, “Emmm~”

She tried again… reaching her nose out further, “Ah..! Your flowers!” She looked to the area far off, seeing his passionate project coming to life now that the thick smog parted to show the whole area… and people picking flowers, playing in the clean water, and enjoying life out there.

“Ah… They already knew.” Her eyes twitched at the beautiful sight, “From way up here…”

“... You saw a problem that you thought was there.” Sonic opened his eyes lightly, “No one hated me, Amy…” He looked to her, “... You were projecting your own thoughts and feelings onto others… You thought you were the only one… but really,” He took on a serious tone.

“I think you felt I wasn’t giving you enough time, Amy… for all you do for me, I think you felt jipped.”

She broke down and sobbed profusely, as Sonic slowly got up and put an arm around her again, letting her cry…

She was the one thinking those horrible things… this whole time…

“Eggman really made a mess of things.” He gently rested his head over Amy’s shoulder, “Didn’t he, Amy?”

With an absolute heart full of grace and sorrow, thankful for Sonic’s understanding, she held her hand to his back and pulled him closer, “Yes…” She admitted, feeling the weight finally set in. “I tried to be so strong when he took you away from us… I never once believed you were gone…”

“... That must have been a heavy burden… keeping everyone’s faith and hope alive… in me, and in the war efforts,... Amy.” Sonic closed his eyes, letting her let it out.

“I just… I wanted to see you.” She smushed her eyes into his shoulder. “I wanted you to want to see me…”

“...” This time, Sonic remained silent.

“... I love you, Sonic.” She mumbled through her tears.

“... I know.” Sonic took his other hand and adjusted his legs to be able to sit and hold her with both his arms now around her. “I missed you too, Amy…”

They both then said, as though one healing thought spoken aloud from their souls…

“I missed you so much.”

[mdhwrites]

Do you think it's a bit odd how muddy the premise of TOH is?

I can sum up the premise of other similar shows I've watched in one sentence to any hypothetical viewer going in blind. SU: A chubby boy struggles to master his own power, identity, and goodness while navigating complex family dynamics, old wounds, and sick sci-fi technomagic. Amphibia: Three girls search for each other, stretch their friendship to its limits, and find a way back home in a wacky land populated by amphibians. She-Ra: An imperialist soldier turned rebel fights to free her homeland from occupation whilst struggling with the unique bond she shares with her frenemy.... etc!

I'm just not sure what I could say for TOH. A girl runs away from home to be mentored by a wild witch? But she doesn't really get mentored, and she didn't exactly run away either (she just... didn't go home until it was too late.) A girl leaves her home dimension to enroll in a magic school - hm, but that wasn't really something she super duper cared about, it was just part of the witch gimmick for her.

What else?? A human enters a land of witches, only to discover sinister scheming from the only other human to genocide - which - he's 400-ish too, so, uh, that proves that... colonialism... um.. religion... Let's restart. A human enters witchland and discovers things are not as they seem - no, things are pretty much as they seem-

A closeted girl is thrust into a new world in which she can be herself, and catches the eye of a popular rich girl? Hey, that's not too bad, except it ignores a whole lot of other shit that went down.

How about: A girl enters a wacky land that fulfills her dream of living a fantasy to a T, including the unpleasant parts of the genre.

...Yeah, I guess that's the closest I'm getting. Anyway, what d'you think about TOH's premise? Is it clear to you?

So when I bring up that TOH has a split personality problem, this is what I'm talking about. It effectively is trying to tell three different stories, with three different tones. Any one would be good on its own. Any two would need some finesse but they had plenty of time. All three? Well, even disregarding time constraints, you would have had to be really smart in mixing all three elements in order to make something cohesive as keeping them all separate for longer would simply create the same problem as keeping them apart for a short time does.

And TOH doesn't even fucking try. The literal only element that consistently ties all three story ideas together is Luz. I'll get into it more in a second but this is part of why when you pitch the show to someone, you kind of just have to focus the entire description on Luz in one way or another. To mention any of the other elements causes you to inherently imply one is more important than the others and TOH never chose anything to prioritize.

But of course, what were the three stories trying to be told and with what tones? And I'll talk about how it handles each of them weaving into one another once I've just established a baseline for each.

Well, first we have the slice of life, comedy, coming of age story that is Luz, Eda, King and Lilith. Especially in S1, most hijinks with them are focused around blunt morality, hijinks and just dealing with a problem of the day. It is the most bluntly kid's show of any of them, adopting a lot of the tone of Amphibia. This is why we get so many B plots with King that are the same thing over and over again. It's why Lilith and Eda are on opposite sides of the law but they don't fight until the end but instead are just nice, silly sisters here for hijinks. It's also part of why Lilith is made into a joke in S2 because that is more keeping in line with the tone of this storyline than if she were to actually what happened to her seriously and mixed in with:

The second is a fantasy epic about the corruption of a world by hate and prejudice. Of one man's corrupted beliefs of religion and want for control ruining a land. It is a much darker toned story, meant to reflect the horrors of the real world and its prejudices. This is the plot of Belos and Hunter. It is also the plot that is the smallest part of TOH but should have been the most omnipresent due to how so much of it is tied strictly into the worldbuilding. A lack of world building easily makes this sort of story, like most dystopians, fall completely apart. It also is the one that requires the most adherence to it as conflicting elements makes this story feel all the weaker each time someone treats this existential threat as nothing to be worried about.

The third is the most obvious: The school drama/romance story. This one is probably the one actually trying to be the most concise due to how almost every element for a season and a half of this plot is dedicated just to the weird girl/serious girl romance. It's a classic and one I've iterated on multiple times myself as it's just a fun concept to handle.

So there you go. Three ideas that are each on their own a good story but have their own complications. Each one of these could have easily taken two seasons to properly explore and tell. With more efficient storytelling, any of them could have taken a single season or less.

But then you get the exponential problem of mixing them together. Because mind you, tonally you have a comedy slice of live, a romantic drama, and a dark epic. Those are VASTLY different genres for each tonally and in narrative intent.

The easiest combo is actually the first and second. This is actually what Amphibia is effectively. The show starts in a somewhat isolated part of the world so its lighter tone can not contrast with the darker epic that is to come, giving it a safe space for character development, relationships, etc. Then with each threat, it gets a little more serious with its tone. There's a reason Hop Pop buries the box in S1 but the confrontation about what that means isn't until S2. There's a reason why S3B of Amphibia is MARKEDLY more serious than anything that came before it. The strength of this combo is that when the darker elements show up, the contrast of what came before makes them hit all the harder and makes you care about the stakes.

So what about how TOH handles it? Well, Lilith and Eda are theoretically a blend of the two but Lilith is never treated quite seriously enough. Also, rather than it being ideological, it comes across more personal with those two and it kind of leaves Belos out of it for the entirety of the first season, especially due to how wishy washy the show is about the covens being a big deal. Then in S2, Lilith absolutely SHOULD be the connective tissue. Her and Luz share a similar anger towards Belos and the two acting on that anger is a way to show that hate in any form is destructive, playing on the grander themes of the epic side of it while bringing in The Owl Family.

Instead, Lilith is just kind of flicked away, rendering any connective tissue from S1 to just evaporate, especially as no one actually seems to have cared about Belos almost murdering Eda. Rather, Raine is the connective tissue for the two plotlines. You know, the character who never gets to meaningfully interact with Luz or King, nor actually has a role in potentially pulling Luz to different ways of learning like Lilith might have, meaning they don't interact with the mentor side either. Even in their first episode, Raine is entirely self contained away from the other two. Eda and King's closest contribution to the plot before S3 is honestly in trying to get info out of Warden Wrath and that's really it. Otherwise, they're entirely divorced from Belos, his philosophy and his machinations.

So next easiest combo: The grand epic mixed with the school setting. This is how you get things like S3 of RWBY, My Hero Academia or Harry Potter (Though HP sucks dick at it too because good old Joanne sucks both at being a good person and actually writing anything serious.) The school setting is used as a kind of safe space for drama, romance and teenage shenanigans while the dark elements allow those things to come to a fever pitch as well as a way to test the bonds made at school versus the grand threat's hate and evil. It's hard to make smooth though, if the fact that I listed two things with... questionable plot writing to put it mildly isn't indicative. It at least has been done before. Oh, Naruto pre-Shippuden could possibly also be counted as this.

And TOH mixes these two by... Hunter? That really is the closest it ever comes to mixing them. The school is easily the part that obliterates taking Belos' regime or themes seriously as it constantly, CONSTANTLY undermines the worldbuilding of the show and struggles to actually feel like a part of the grander society. None of the Hexside Squad members ever properly face what being a wild witch or ditching the coven system actually means after all. Amity literally treats it as something that will mildly disappoint her parents but isn't a big deal.

So all you really have is Sport in a Storm and Labyrinth Runners as at least those episodes are using the school setting to give Hunter a chance to make friends and become a better person, theoretically, and he's important to the epic storyline so that kind of counts. If you REALLY want to stretch it, Eclipse Lake is another point of crossover before all three plotlines are mashed together starting at Clouds on the Horizon but the only justification there is that Amity is from the school stuff, though it's closer to fitting the tone and tropes of the mentor's storytelling than that of the school's.

But that is still three... In almost 38 episodes.

The last one is easily the most awkward and the one I don't have examples for: Mixing the Mentor and School plotlines. It's actually pretty easy to see why this would be hard. Both are about teaching the main character but in different ways. I think you could claim some works have done this by having a specific teacher be the primary teacher/mentor for the main character while the school is just where that mentor is accessed.

So how does TOH mix the-

Error 404.

Huh...

I'm not over exaggerating that much. Besides Teenage Abomination, VERY WEAKLY, the two never actually mix. Eda comes to Hexside once. King interacts with the Hexside kids a couple times but always in episodes or B plots that are much closer to the silly slice of life stuff than anything trying to mix the two tones. Even when it does, you get Really Small Problems where neither story is progressed and it all feels bad. Remember the closest that Eda comes to ever being a part of fixing a school problem is in Understanding Willow where she's just a spell dispenser before then being an idiot for Gus. It doesn't make her look better or play with any of the themes. The next closest is during The First Day where she is isolated entirely in her own plot so it's not actually mixing it besides the fact that Eda is at the school.

And for all three?

Well... I think the best way to point this out is that the best example of all three plots coming together is Edric deciding to expand his knowledge of magic. He actively chooses to reject what society has told him, tries a new method endorsed by the mentor figure but does at least acknowledge that his old schooling didn't prepare him for it. It's not strong and it's still hamstringing the epic storyline because he's already practicing two types of magics and so is mostly just nervous about being any good at this but it's SOMETHING.

But otherwise? The three shall never meet. Even once Clouds on the Horizon happens, they never meet. Eda literally never spends time with the Hexside Squad, especially as a whole. King is barely a part of the mentor stuff by then and is purely in the Epic territory and he's still not interacting much with them. Even in the final episode, the Hexside members are entirely on their own while Luz, Eda and King properly take out Belos, rather than everyone trying to protect Luz or having to fight by her side.

This sequestering of characters, themes, plotlines, etc. causes the show to waste a LOT of time and never have a proper focus. You never know what the point to a scene is because what it's serving is unclear, if it's serving anything at all. The show, by the end, can still have cut Amity and Hexside out entirely and lost literally nothing except much of what made the fandom engage with the show. And a reminder: Disney SUGGESTED Hexside. Dana said yes. It wasn't forced on her.

And that fits the show's entire storytelling ethos. It never feels like it is actually focusing on a single point. Instead, individual episodes will present interesting ideas or statements that immediately conflict or need to be retconned by other episodes because nothing is properly congruent. It is all conflicting against each other because each part is acting entirely independent of the rest.

It is an ever growing leviathan but rather than bringing in more of what is around it to make it stronger, it only ever hurts itself more and more as the details that once shone on its surface are made murky and unclear by all it has piled upon it until there is nothing but a rancid sludge. Unclear, unfocused and hard to describe except in the most blunt way possible. So what is the most blunt way to describe TOH?

The only factor that gets to cross all three storylines: Luz. So the only way to describe the show is "A story of a teenage girl going into a fantasy story." What type of fantasy story? Who knows. The writers didn't seem to after all so why should we?

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

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

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

A Twitter you can follow too

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

[linka-from-captain-planet]

Florrickology, Part 5: Counsellor Desiré "Fuck It, We Ball" Florrick

Back in Part 1, I alluded to this fascinating aspect of my beloved's personality. I have had much to say about her overarching actions re: her role in the story, but it's time to focus on the details of what she actually does and how she actually handles the challenges she faces of the course of the three acts.

What is so interesting about Florrick is that she's presented as character who would be fully Lawful Good: careful, methodical, a planner... but IS she?

Again, it's important to emphasize that Florrick is a background figure. She's a quest-giver and a story-mover first, and a character last.

As I mentioned in previous installments of Florrickology, what she actually says and does isn't as important as the impression they leave the player with; you aren't supposed to read too much into her literal lines/actions, but rather take them at pretty much face-value and move on with the game, because they mostly boil down to a) moving the plot for more important characters/events and b) video game mechanics.

But as a background character propagandist and Florrick's first and #1 simp, this creates a playground of fun stuff to play with that is actually rooted in canon, because even if you aren't supposed to read into these things, you can and I did.

In Part 1, I said:

I'll have more to say about Desiré "Fuck It, We Ball" Florrick and her personality in another florrickology post, but the long and short of it is that this woman is not afraid of shit and sashays into every situation fully confident in her ability to charm or steamroll it to her liking. "She is used to getting her way", indeed.

Let's dig in deeper, encounter-by-encounter.

"She is used to getting her way" is straight from the dialogue file for the first Florrick encounter conversation, which along with "She should come off as no-nonsense but good" is the only description of her in the files. These definitely set the tone, because what's the first thing Florrick does in the game?

Command the player to assist with search and rescue. She's not really asking, even if she does phrase it in a civilized manner. As far as she's concerned, she's calling the player up (on borrowed authority, as she's only an advisor, not a duke herself) for a mandatory civic duty... even if they're not even Baldurian, or even from this plane of existence. If you think about it, unless Wyll is with you, it makes 0 sense to agree to anything she asks (especially if you don't yet know anything about the overall plot), and all this is an insane thing to ask of a random stranger who just happened to stop by.

I love this because not only is it insane, it's assertive. It's asking for forgiveness, not permission. It's the door-in-the-face technique. It's being so self-assured and confident that she is correct and others will comply because she is correct that it doesn't even occur to her that anyone would refuse. From her perspective, it's probably a small ask considering what she would be willing to do, and proceeds to actually do, for the sake of the greater good and the survival of Baldur's Gate.

My first play through I had literally no clue what the fuck she was talking about, was only tangentially aware that "Baldur's Gate" was an actual place and not the place I currently was, and had not yet synthesized any information about the overall plot, but of course I was immediately like "never arguing with a woman with big brown eyes... whatever you say gorgeous" and would have immediately run to """moonrise towers""" if I had any idea where it was. So needless to say it worked on me.

This blisteringly self-assured and balls-to-the-wall approach to handling every situation follows her throughout the game.

Depending on how you progress through the Act 1 map, she may be the first character who tells you details about Moonrise Towers, the center of this hot new cult on the block, swallowed in shadows so perilous that they can only be attributed to nefarious powers at work... so obviously, she's just like "anyway, I'll see you there."

And then she literally runs off with her ragtag group of surviving Fists, thong and all. No further planning. No correspondence with contacts in the city. It IS the next step in handling this matter in her estimation, which is true and correct, so that's what they'll do.

Fuck it, we ball.

When you meet her again in the Last Light Inn, her Fists have completed a reconnaissance mission to Moonrise (maybe she went with, considering her famously good scouting skills) and determined it to be unassailable, which indicates she considered storming the tower as an option, despite presumably already having rendezvoused with the Harpers who informed her that the tower was guarded by cultists, zombies, and an immortal undead general. (You also find her mid-argument with a Fist, putting him in his place as he questions her authority and she is NOT having it.)

On speaking with her, she promptly voluntells the player's party to investigate the tower further, while she returns to the city to appeal to the council for reinforcements, specifically newfangled Steel Watch units. Then for some reason, she drops this fairly baffling line:

Baby... what the fuck do you mean?

Does she mean she half-expects to die trying to transverse the shadow-cursed lands, which she's already done with no issues (presumably sheltered by the radiant glow of her gorgeousness)... or does she know or suspect there's something up with the council, which she's never indicated before? I think I missed something in this convo due to being distracted by beautiful she looks in this lighting, but if I didn't, then I guess she's possibly referring to getting past the Absolute's army parked in the way to the city, but regardless...

Fuck it, we ball. It's what she decided to do, so it will be done.

The next time you meet her, she's like a completely different woman. Defeated, head hung, demoralized, just waiting in her cell for execution. She can't escape for Video Game Reasons, but realistically... she definitely could, as a level 11 wizard. She just chooses not to, because as she says herself, she already lost. She failed, and the city will fall, and there's nothing worth living for.

It's shocking to see her in this state because it's so discordant with her previous behavior: head high, spine iron, barking orders.

So, good thing she bounces back immediately! This is again a Video Game Mechanic, but I do find it very in character that her response to even the "I'll beat your ass" rescue option is basically "You're totally right, giving up wasn't very cash money of me."

I've had much to say about the last real Florrick encounter, and how much it sucks ass, but it really is the biggest Fuck It, We Ball moment in the game, because you have to consider:

Florrick knows the player and/or Wyll have killed the avatar of a god. And she confronts them anyway, ready to fight and definitely ready to die. She's already fugitive marked for death; she's already determined that with Ulder fallen, the city is doomed.

Might as well die like she lived, right? Might as well take a mother fucker down with her, right?

All of this subtle chaos and insanity is super fun (also hot) to me because it's like... what is this woman's actual deal? Combined with what I pointed out in Florrickology Part 3, where Wyll implies it's somewhat routine practice for her to up and kill would-be assassins and also scout the wilderness for danger, "moving the plot" and "video game mechanics" add up to one hell of a woman. How does she come off as such an uptight, level-headed person but sometimes act like 5 raccoons stuffed into a distractingly sexy dress?

Truly an icon of a character for us modern-day corporate girlies who just get a little squirrelies sometimes.

Women can truly do it all!

[the20thcenturykid]

I was thinking about something... We know that both Lilith and Alastor were missing for the last 7 years and we have confirmation that Lilith is now in heaven and from Alastor breakdown in finale that his powers are somewhat compromised, limited (what could also add to the reason why he lost to Adam, since as prideful as Al is he couldn't fathom loosing to him even when not on his full power) and that his deal is part of it, probably even cause.

Soooo, long post theory ehead.

Leading theory is that Alastor made not so good a deal with Lilith but! When? If it happened during those 7 years would Husk know about it at all since it looks like Alastor might not even be able to talk about it? (Again, his pride and hubris but it also looks like he isn't allowed to say much about those 7 years) I highly doubt Alastor had some heartfelt conversation about that somewhere during those 6 months of show, especially if he really cannot say much about it so... Husk shouldn't know much.

What if the deal itself is old news and recent development was just part of it? Since he played with some voodoo during his lifetime it's not out of question he made it even before his death or right after since from the beginning he was able to take down overlords one after another. Also - did Al actually sold his soul or someone pulled on him "power for tiny favour in future" ploy? Or both?

The question of why he's engaging with the Hotel's plot is also on, because as honestly compelling is the idea he was just bored we can be sure it's just an excuse and he has way bigger plans.

Alastor was and is the hunter.

He also can probably destroy souls. He threatened Husk to do so, since overlords he killed disappeared completely they could get this fate. Normally when the human soul gets killed in hell they come back sooner or later but not when killed by angels and apparently Alastor if he decides to do so.

Now to the point - I have weird feelings that his deal isn't with Lilith but rather this "future favour" is somehow connected to her and probably she's its target. What if she messed with the one who owns Alastor's soul and he was sent to silence her? From the start - I don't know if Alastor is/was strong enough to kill an ancient demon queen even with extra power from his "benefactor" but if so it would be wise to hide from demon who's hunting her in only place he would never be able to go - in heaven.

Now, why is Alastor supposedly weaker if he's to take down Lilith? BECAUSE HE FAILED and this is his punishment for that. Why was he missing for the whole 7 years? Was he searching for Lilith? Yeah, for that I have no fucking idea to be honest. Idk, he tried to break into heaven by force and accidentally fell into limbo between heaven and hell and just got out after 7 years and Lilith not sure where he is didn't want to leave her safe haven for which she probably paid quite a big price (probably part of the deal which Lute mentioned at the end of season). Idk, that would be funny.

This all could quite well fit the reason why Alastor is so interested not only in the Hotel but most importantly in Charlie. As redemption might be a way to enter heaven I doubt Al would even consider going through it, but just knowledge if it's possible for demon souls to go there would be some hint how to exploit this possibility to get to Lilith. But the most important part here is Charlie. She's still young and finding her footing and how's the best way to get her trust? Help her grow and achieve her goals. Alastor went for some lengths to gather some trust and by how everyone reacted for his comeback at the end it looks like aside from Lucifer and Husk he bought some of it from them. And there's also a question of Charlie's deal. "Favour where she doesn't have to harm her friends"? Maybe some footing for the way to lure Lilith out of heaven or find his way there to get her by himself.

So why doesn't Alastor just use Charlie now to lure Lilith out? If he threatened to harm Charlie who's still discovering her own power her mother should come running to help her child? Well judging from outside sources about Al and his personality he isn't as cold blooded as one might think and even when he was alive he had his code. Afterall using hostages is quite low blow, so he's trying to avoid it by manipulating Charlie into trusting her. This is also the reason why he hated Lucifer's involvement so much - he's another obstacle and actually quite problematic. One thing is to manipulate the young one to get to the ancient demon queen, the other to try to manipulate the young one in front of their father to get to the ancient demon queen who happens to be said fathers wife (ex?).

And now for the finale and his breakdown. One thing is his pride was just completely slaughtered by Adam, he's losing control, he's not only weaker than someone, but even weaker than he himself thought (and just a few hours earlier he was making fun of Adam for his hubris and just got the biggest UNO reverse card in his afterlife). Also, he realised that he almost died in an attempt of protecting Hotel and its residents. No matter if they are just means to the end, if he's accidentally creating himself a new obstacle on the way to his prey by getting attached to them and most importantly Charlie using them will be way more difficult. He's scared of showing any weaknesses, and here he showed not only that he isn't as powerful in fight as he seemed but now feels emotionally vulnerable. And he hates it so much.

SOOOOOOOOOO

One last thing. Who's the person with whom Alastor made a deal? Since he gained the skill of destroying souls one might think it's some angel, but then heaven wouldn't be so safe for Lilith. So probably Roo, the Root of whole evil that was teased here and there by Viv for some time. If so

[cowbilover]

lo and queer masc/man rep

or therefore the complete lack there of. which is incredibly insulting considering how common and prominent it was in original myth (although not always perfect but what greek myth is regardless of straight or gay). also i will be using queer in place of LGBT+ as an umbrella term so if you're not comfortable with that then sorry.

now rachel has made attempts at including queer rep through hestia and athena as lesbians and morpheus (and maybe chiron? idk) as trans women. which could be a whole separate post on its own with the problems that arise with them, but seeing as i am not a lesbian or trans woman, i will not be speaking on them in this post nor to the same degree if i do ever mention them.

what i am is a queer man, both bisexual and trans. i am also a big enjoyer of greek myth. i am not a big enjoyer of lore olympus nor of rachel's complete lack of representation when it comes to men like myself despite it being again very prominent within the original myths. now seeing how badly she has handled other forms of representation for other groups, i am partially glad she hasn't tried. but while i am a little happy, i am more so overall upset and annoyed at this. it comes off as nothing more than simple erasure.

the closest we've seen of rep for queer men/mascs is aged up storge who is more feminine then other men in the story, but this has not been explicitly confirmed therefore i will not be including this. besides men can be both feminine and still cishet. finally storge is a minor background character with little importance, so even if rachel did decide to make him canon queer we likely would not see much of that.

his brother eros is another annoying case as he is unarguably coded as a gay best friend stereotype. but without being gay. he is fashionable, witty, intelligent, dramatic, and always serves as a shoulder for his straight friend to cry on. but again he is not even fucking gay. he is married to a woman with a child. while i would like to see better representation then the gbf stereotype it is still insulting that rachel while coding eros to act like that couldn't even do the bare minimum of making him bisexual.

now it has been pointed out to me that names of male lovers to gods have been used and slapped on female nymphs. krokos (one of persephone's dead nympth friends) was a male spartan lover of hermes, and ampleus (the name pysche took as a nymph) was a lover of dionysus. now i am not upset that rachel didn't include the original stories since the story is already messy enough. i am upset that she took the names of two queer men from myth and slapped them on two woman. one of which ends up marrying a man, and the other dying. a quick google search could show that these names belonged to male lovers of gods, and so to me it comes off as at best lazy and at worst erasure.

i won't be discussing much of dionysus since he was only recently introudced. nor of apollo since the erasure of his queer identity is only one of many problems that occur with his character and how rachel wrote it, which could constitution a completely separate post.

i will be discussing hermes though. as both a character that we have seen a lot of, and as one that has not been completely villainized by the plot. he had an incredibly early appearance in the webtoon and had a handful of myths where he had male lovers or expressed homosexual love. but not a single mention or even passing comment has ever been made about this. it would be incredibly easy for rachel to just throw in one allusion to any of his male lovers (besides krokos who has been turned into a nymph for some reason) yet this never happens.

zeus is another character we have seen a lot of, especially in regards to his many affairs. all of which have canonically been with women. despite the many affairs he carried out with men. one of the most famous being ganymede and the foundation for the myth behind aquarius and the cup bearer. again it would not be so incredibly difficult for rachel to add any allusion to his male lovers. yet again though, nothing. (i will come back to this post after some fast passes become public and i can discuss his treatment as a pregnant man)

poseidon also had a couple queer lovers but besides the reference to the fact that he has a polygam "pod" we haven't actually seen any of his partners besides his wife.

the way rachel draws men with all perfect six pack bodies is also something that annoys me, and i'll be discussing it briefly here. people always comment on the lack of body diversity for the women in the comic but for the men it is much more severe. hermes, thanatos and eros who were all shown to be more skinny and not completely jacked in the beginning of the story are now all ripped with washboard abs. the men are all built like brick walls and it is just upsetting to see as a trans man who does not fit into that category. it sends the message that to be attractive a man must be perfectly fit. not scrawny or skinny or god forbid even fat.

also again as i said in the beginning many of the myths for queer men were just as fucked and problematic. it’s greek mythology it’s inevitable. but i’m more upset over the fact that if rachel can modernize and (attempt to) make hetero myths less gross, then where is that effort for homo myths

overall despite the overwhelming amount of queer man/masc rep that exists within the source material, rachel utilizes none of it. there has not been mention or allusion to a single queer god, forget any trans god. to me it comes off as purposefully ignorant and as erasure of queer men/mascs. which is fucking annoying considering how many of us see ourselves for once fucking represented in these myths. she has plenty of opportunity to include rep for people like myself but continuously chooses not to, instead adding another hetero-centric plot line for no reason. it is tiring and annoying to see so many gods that were queer in their myths not be represented as such. i will not make assumptions about why rachel chooses not to include this kind of rep, i will simply say to me it comes off as blatant erasure.

i could go on, and probably will come back to this post but for now i have said what i have wanted to say.