#she verbatim just said those words too

[myrandom-fandomlife]

i love you, i’m sorry with s5 maddie when

[cressidagrey]

Brighten Up the Sky

This started as a prompt from the lovely @satiresunflower, (though it is pretty much unrecognisable from the prompt she actually gave. She did give me permission to go wild though, so this is what you get lol) 

This starts in Chapter 14 of ACOWAR, so some of the sentences are taken verbatim from the original text. I did change it into 3rd person, because me trying to write in 1st person never ends well. I also think there is a longer story in this particular idea, but quite frankly, I don’t have it in me to write it right now. 

Summary:

A Mating Bond between her younger sister and the Night Court’s shadowsinger was the last thing Feyre had expected to spring up…but then, maybe it did make sense. 

Warning:

Public Displays of affection, kinda Nesta bashing, but like...she has her reasons?, Cassian being annoying

(Lovely dividers thanks to @cafekitsune)

“Where are my sisters?” Feyre asked, the thought clanging through her head as jarring as a pealing bell. 

Her sisters

Rhys paused for just a moment, his hand slipping from her hair as his smile faded. “Elain and Nesta are at the House of Wind.” He straightened, swallowing. “I can—take you to them.” Every word seemed to be an effort.

But he would, Feyre realized. He’d shove down his need for her and take her to them, if that was what she wanted. Her choice. It had always been her choice with him.

Feyre shook my head. She wouldn’t see them—not yet. Not until she was steady enough to face them.

“They’re well, though?”

His hesitation told her enough. 

“They’re safe,” Rhys answered quietly. 

"That’s good," Feyre murmured as she took a deep breath in an attempt to calm the swirling, churning emotions inside her chest.

Her sisters...her sisters were safe. That was something. That was enough. For now. 

Only then she realised something else.

“You said Nesta and Elain are at the House of Wind,” Feyre pointed out, her hands clenching, her heart beating faster. “Where’s Alana?” she demanded, singling out her younger sister…singling out her half sister. 

The result of their father’s dalliance with a maid during her mother’s pregnancy with Feyre. Alana was just 6 months younger than her. Alana’s mother had died during childbirth…so their father had been saddled with another squealing infant that his wife was ill-pleased with. 

Nesta liked to say that that affair had eventually killed their mother. Feyre thought it to be ridiculous. It had been a fever and Alana had nothing to do with it, because she had been a literal child…and Alana had lost her voice to the very same fever. Feyre could still remember her singing like a pealing bell when she had been a child…and then…then she hadn’t been able to anymore. Even talking was near impossible for Alana, her throat unable to produce any sounds. 

Even as Alsna had been thrown into the cauldron…Her mouth had been open in a silent scream, but no sound had come out of her mouth. 

A shudder ran through her at that memory.

Alana. Her sweet, quiet younger sister. The sister that always smiled too sweetly and saw too much with those sharp eyes of hers. 

"Where is Alana?" She repeated. The silence in the room hung thick in the air as Rhys continued to hesitate.

A prickle of unease started to make its way up her spine. 

“Rhys, where is Alana?!” she demanded, her voice rising. 

“She’s safe, I swear,” Rhys hurried to promise her. “She’s not staying with Nesta and Elain but she’s safe. She should be here soon. I think…everything else…you should ask her about that.”

His words did little to soothe her worries, the unease that now clawed up her spine stronger.

“You’re not telling me something,” she pointed out, her brow furrowing. “Rhys, what are you not telling me?” 

She thought back to the last time she had seen her sister…thought back to her being poured out onto the wet stone floor from the cauldron…not a noise had come from her…nothing. She had…She had been poured out of the cauldron and had just kneeled on that stone floor as they had forced Nesta into the cauldron after her. 

She hadn’t…she had been…absent. Like the cauldron had taken too much from her. 

And then, in the moment as Mor had pushed Lucien away from Nesta and Elain, Feyre had seen Alana lunge. 

Not for the King of Hybern. Not even for Mor, who would have been closer to her…But for Cassian and Azriel for some reason. She wasn’t sure what had been Alana’s reasoning. Wasn’t sure what…Rhys had grasped all three of them and winnowed them away. 

Her heart was now hammering.

“What did you do with her?” Feyre demanded, her voice growing panicked. “What did you do with Alana? Why isn’t she staying with Nesta and Elain?” Feyre asked, her voice forcedly calm. “Rhys, what is going on?”

There was another moment of hesitation, another moment of silence, before Rhys finally replied. "She just…opted to stay elsewhere."

Those words did little to reassure her.

"Where?" Feyre pressed, her eyes narrowed. 

Rhys sighed. “How about you get into that bath that should be ready by now?” he suggested. “I’ll…tell you some of what happened. But I do think that some of the things should come from Alana and not from me,” he pointed out drily. 

The last thing she wanted to do right now was take a bath, the last thing she wanted to do was to be pacified with pretty words and nice things. That was the last thing she wanted.

But...he was right. She needed to be clean. 

Feyre growled at her mate, but stomped into the bathing chamber, stripping out of her clothing. Her fingers were near-black with dirt and caked blood. 

Rhys snapped his fingers, and her skin was nearly instantly pristine again. “Tell me what happened,” Feyre said flatly, as she sunk into the blood-hot water. “Why isn’t Alana staying at the House of Wind?”

Rhys was silent for a moment as he looked at her, his mouth in a grim line.

Then he let out a deep sigh, sitting down on the edge of the bathing tub. “A lot of things happened,” Rhys said drily. “But the biggest reason why Alana isn’t at the House of Wind is mostly that…I can’t guarantee Nesta’s safety, if she keeps spewing some of her venom in Alana’s direction.”

Feyre’s brow shot up at that, her heart skipping a beat. “What?” she demanded. “Rhys, what are you talking about?” That didn’t sound—didn’t sound like...

To say that Nesta and Alana didn’t get along was an understatement. Nesta gave Alana the fault for seemingly everything and Alana…well, she played deaf. And even more mute than she normally was. Even when Feyre‘s sister hadn’t been able to talk, she had been more than able to communicate if she wanted to, either with her expressive face, or her hands. And still, Alana had pretended like it wasn’t happening. Elain was no better to her…Elain liked to ignore Alana’s very existence.

But Alana wouldn’t have done anything…Alana wouldn’t have…

“Alana doesn’t lose her temper,” Feyre said carefully as she looked at Rhys. “She doesn’t.”

“She didn’t,” Rhys said drily. “My spymaster did.” 

A puzzled frown crossed over her face at that. “Azriel?” Feyre asked, her eyebrows furrowing. “What did he do?”

Azriel had lost his temper with Nesta? 

“If Cassian hadn’t been there, I think Azriel would have torn out Nesta’s throat with his bare hands,” Rhys said with a grimace. “It was…bad.”

Feyre’s jaw dropped.

Azriel, tearing out Nesta’s throat? With his hands? That…that didn’t sound like him. Not at all.

“I...” Feyre had no idea what to say. Why would Azriel have done that?  Feyre couldn’t…Of course, she knew that Azriel was capable of great violence, but he had never…she had never seen him lose his temper with a member of his family. Had never even through that that was a possibility. Whatever Nesta had said, must have been…

If he had gotten this angry on Alana’s behalf…What exactly had been said?

"What did Nesta do? What did she say?" Feyre asked, her voice hard. "What did she say to warrant that reaction from Azriel?" 

Rhys grimaced, shaking  his head. “You don’t want to know,” he said, his voice low. “Trust me, you do not want to know what she said. It's...complicated."

"Complicated, how?" Feyre demanded as she towelled herself off, walking back into the bedroom and pulled on comfortable clothing, her worry mounting. "What could possibly be so bad that you don't want to tell me?" 

If it was bad enough that Rhys didn't want to tell her what exactly happened...what exactly had been said.

"Well, that…” Rhys trailed off.

"Tell me," Feyre demanded again. "What exactly happened after…Hybern?"

Her mate gave in, holding out his hand and she joined him sitting on the edge of their bed.

Their bed.

She was home. Finally.

Rhys sighed.

“After Hybern…Mor dropped Nesta and Elain off at the House of Wind and then came back to the Townhouse. I had…I had Azriel and Cassian, and Alana too” Rhys said quietly and Feyre swallowed. Azriel and Cassian were healed. Rhys had told her that…but somehow she hadn’t been able to believe it…until she had seen it. 

“Amren tried to stop the blood flow from the literal hole in Azriel’s chest. I didn’t notice at first…Alana was kneeling at Azriel’s side…covered in his blood…holding his head on her lap…” Rhys’s violet eyes seemed to be far, far away, as he nearly shuddered, just thinking about it. “Azriel was…in and out of consciousness…but he was just…he was just holding onto her.”

Feyre’s heart was lodged in her throat. Azriel, nearly dead, was just…holding Alana. Her head was spinning as her mind worked hard to comprehend this. 

“The mating bond snapped for them,” Rhys finally said quietly. 

Feyre’s eyes widened. Her mouth went suddenly dry.

The…the mating bond? Alana and Azriel? Mates?

“The mating bond,” she echoed faintly. “The…the mating bond.” 

Feyre was quite sure that her jaw dropped. And that she stared at Rhys like he had just grown a second head.

“Azriel and Alana?” Feyre asked, unable to believe that. Azriel and Alana?! The brooding shadowsinger and spymaster of the Night Court and her youngest sister?

Azriel, who seemed to have a thing for Mor and had never looked at another female as far as Feyre was aware?

Rhys winced at her look.

"Yes, I know," he said quietly, wincing. "That was…my reaction too. I didn’t see it coming. I don’t think that anyone saw this coming...especially not Azriel." 

Feyre’s mind was racing.

Azriel and Alana. Mates.

She couldn’t…she never would have imagined it. Never seen it coming. Not in a thousand years. 

“Have they…” she wasn’t even sure what she was asking.

“Three days late,” Rhys said with a sigh. “They were not willing to wait.” 

“Three day?!” Feyre demanded. As far as she knew, Alana had never even entertained the thought of a suitor. Not that there had been any men that had looked over the fact that she was a bastard…and mute. They had never bothered to look further and Alana had never fussed about it either. 

"Three days," Rhys repeated. "The moment Azriel was well enough to be mobile again, they mated."  Rhys shuddered, his face scrunching up in distaste. “They are insufferable. The both of them.” 

"What do you mean, insufferable?" Feyre asked. A million thoughts were running through her head. Alana and Azriel…mates. They mated. 

"They could not stay away from each other," Rhys said, shuddering again. "They were...touchy. All the time. And so very...cutesy and sweet with each other. Gods, they are nauseating."

Feyre’s eyebrows rose at that. Alana and Azriel. Touchy? Cutesy and sweet? She could barely even imagine it. Alana...and Azriel. Being affectionate. 

"She’s sitting on his lap constantly," her mate groaned, rubbing his eyes hard. "And he is just…constantly touching her. I don’t even think that they have gone a whole five minutes without touching each other."

"And the looks," her mate continued drily. "Gods, they are exchanging these  looks. You would have thought that they are the soppiest, lovesick couple in existence. I did not ever need to see Azriel making heart-eyes at Alana. That was…traumatising."

Feyre pressed her hand to her mouth to muffle a snort. Azriel, making heart-eyes? That was a sight that she could not quite imagine. She…she hadn’t even thought that Azriel was even…capable of making heart-eyes. 

"Cassian and Mor kept poking fun at them. At every opportunity, which they definitely got often. Alana just…ignored them. But Azriel…" Rhys’ lips curled into a smirk. "He was not as amused as Alana by their teasing. He kept threatening violence every five minutes."

Feyre’s eyes widened at that, a laugh escaping her.

Azriel threatening violence for every five minutes that someone teased him about his new mate? She could not picture that either. 

"Cassian started making kissy faces at Alana just to see if Azriel would lose his temper," her mate said, a broad smile on his face. "And let me tell you, he nearly clawed out Cas’ eyeballs for it."

"So she's staying here?" Feyre asked carefully.

Rhys shook his head, his expression growing more serious. "She's at Azriel's house," he explained with a sigh. "It's...the cauldron left her with some...abilities. She’s a daemati…of sorts, at least,” Rhys said with a grimace. “We are still trying to figure out…how exactly it works. You and me…we need to concentrate if we want to read somebody’s thoughts. Alana…she said it was like she was standing in the middle of a market square and everybody is shouting at her,” Rhys said quietly. “We haven’t yet found anybody with shields solid enough to keep her out.”

Feyre swallowed at that. Alana, a daemati…of sorts. Having no control over whose thoughts she heard. No control over how loud everything was. 

“It’s like every mental wall, doesn’t even exist for her," Rhys said with a sigh. "Being around Amren gives her a headache too apparently. Azriel and Cassian are the most relaxing to be around according to her. There minds seem to be...even, analytical."

It sounded like a living hell. No control, no shields. Nothing.

“Is she…” Feyre’s voice was quiet. “Is she doing alright? Considering everything that happened.” 

“She’s fine,” Rhys promised her. “Alana is probably doing the best of them all,” Rhys said, something like amusement bleeding into his voice. “She can tell you all about it."

There was a knock at the door at that moment.

Feyre tensed as her eyes flew to the door.

“That’s her,” Rhys said quietly, placing a soothing hand on her leg. “Are you ready?” 

Feyre took a deep, steadying breath, pushing down her worry and her nerves.

“I’m ready,” she said. 

“Feyre!”

Her sister's voice. Her sister's voice.

Feyre’s heart skipped a beat as her body went rigid.

She couldn’t…she couldn’t believe it. After so long…after believing…believing for so long that she would never hear Alana’s voice…

Feyre remembered with a shudder the sight of small, slight Alana in her translucent nightgown…being poured out of the cauldron onto the stone...She looked nothing like she did now.

She looked well.

That was the first thing Feyre realised. Colour on her cheeks, dark, pin straight hair pinned away from her face and these devasting doe eyes…

Feyre’s eyes roamed over her sister, drinking in the sight of her. Alive. Well. Whole.

She could barely believe it, her mind struggling to catch up. 

"You can talk," Feyre whispered as Alana hugged her.  

She grimaced.

Kinda. This is easier though, she answered, her mental voice slipping into Feyre's mind without her even noticing. My throat hurts if I talk too much.

It was strange, having a voice in her mind that was not her own. Different from when her mate spoke to her down the bond. It was more…pronounced. Clearer, somehow. 

"Are…” Feyre’s voice broke again, her eyes roaming over Alana again. “Are you really alright, Al?” 

She drunk in her sister's face, the pale skin, the freckles that covered her face...she had been pretty as a human but as a fae...as a High fae she was gorgeous.

Alana’s eyes, her sister’s eyes, were still the same. Still that same dark, endless brown that had always seemed to hold so many secrets. She had never met anyone who could hold as many secrets as Alana had.

She looked so healthy, so well and Feyre felt a lump form in her throat. 

She had to fight the sudden urge to cry, as she pulled her sister into another hug. Her sister’s slender arms wrapped around her, pulling her in tight. Like she was never going to let her go again. 

I am alright, Alana promised fiercely. I am better than alright. I am...I am so happy, Fey.

The thought in her mind brought another wave of tears to Feyre’s eyes. She held on to her sister tighter, burying her face against her neck as a sob escaped her and she inhaled her sister’s familiar, comforting scent. Pomegranate and Vanilla, with an underlay of Azriel. 

He treats you well? she asked, cradling her sisters face in her hands. She didn't think that Azriel would...mistreat her but...

Alana’s eyes darkened as she thought of Azriel and her expression softened as a faint smile crossed her face. 

Feyre swallowed again. This was different. This was…her sister had never smiled like that. So open. So happy. So filled with…love. 

And then, very carefully, Feyre felt how Alana pulled at her mind in some sense and then dropped a memory.

For just a moment, it felt like she was in her little sister's body. And she stared at Azriel who looked at her, at Alana with utter and complete adoration, scarred hands cupping her cheeks so gently.

Feyre’s breath caught in her throat at that.

She could feel, could understand the feeling of Azriel’s warm, scarred hand against her skin. The way how the pads of his fingers ran over her jawline, the way how his thumb traced over her lower lip. The way how those hazel eyes of his were filled with nothing but love. 

A shudder ran down Feyre’s spine. That look, the way how Azriel had looked at her sister…it was like the expression in Rhys’ eyes when he looked at her. 

Her eyes flickered to Rhys, where he was patiently waiting in a corner.

He was looking at her with that same look in his eyes. The same look that Feyre knew was mirrored in her own eyes. It was the same, that look. Pure, utter devotion. 

It was the look of a man completely and utterly in love. 

Feyre swallowed as she turned back to Alana, her mind whirling. This was…Alana, her sister…her quiet, shy, closed-off little sister. And Azriel, the Shadowsinger and Spymaster of the Night Court. The one that no one saw as anything but sharp and deadly and a ruthless killer. 

He didn’t hurt you, did he? Feyre asked weakly. She didn’t think he would but…

Alana’s expression softened. Her hand gently came to rest on Feyre’s arm and she shook her head, a small smile on her face.

He was gentle as possible, Fey, Alana promised quietly. Gentler than I would have expected. He made sure to go slow, to be careful. He was…he was everything I could have wished for. He has never hurt me more than I wanted. 

Feyre let out a long, shaky breath she didn’t know that she was holding.

She…she had been worried. Worried for her sweet little sister, being together with a man like Azriel. Who was dangerous and deadly and…and lethal. 

What do you mean with no more than you wanted? she demanded suddenly. Alana just grinned at her, her laugh like a pealing bell.

A shudder ran down Feyre’s spine again. Alana’s…her sister’s voice, the sound of her laugh. It was the most wonderful sound that she had ever heard. She could’ve started bawling like a child, but the thought that Alana dropped into her mind just completely derailed her.

He knows what I like, and he���s happy to oblige. 

Feyre’s eyes widened and she choked on nothing.

She…oh Gods. Her face heat in a blush as Alana just continued smiling at her innocently. 

This was her sister. Her quiet, shy, closed-off sister. That was how she remembered her. And now…and now…she was standing in front of Feyre, smiling at her like a cat who had just devoured an entire bowl of cream, telling her that her stoic, broody, deadly Spymaster of a mate was apparently…into things… 

Her sister smirked at her. Alana! Her shy, little sister, who had never even so much as looked at a male with interest, stood in front of Feyre, a smirk on her face as she told Feyre that her mate knew what she liked. 

I was surprised too, you know, Alana’s voice echoed in Feyre’s mind. But well…I like it, and he’s happy to oblige. He’s very good at it… 

But the look on Alana’s face, the utter contentment in her eyes, and the feeling of…of lust from her sister, made it even more mortifying. 

Alana was happy. Her sister was happy and well, and she just radiated happiness. Feyre’s heart soared, seeing her sister like that after so long.  And even the horrifying bits, Feyre could push past.

Seeing her sister happy like this…that was worth a bit of mortification and discomfort. 

So she swallowed her mortification, and just pulled a face at her smirking sister.

Enough with the gory details, for the love of the Mother. she chided her in her head. Alana just let out another pearly bell kind of laugh.

You should come downstairs. Nuala and Cerridwen have given Lucien some clothing and showed him to a bathing chamber. Lunch should be served soon, if you are hungry, Alana said into her mind.

I am famished, Feyre confessed in her mind. “Lead the way,” she said aloud and Alana just rolled her eyes, taking her by the arm and pulling her downstairs. 

And then something else came to her mind. What did Nesta say to you?

Alana sighed. Nothing that matters, her sister said easily as they reached the dining room. Azriel and Cassian were waiting for them.

And then Feyre saw how her sister turned from happy to radiant as soon as she saw Azriel. 

Feyre watched with ill disguised horror, as the spymaster’s shadows came over to Alana, seemingly swarming around her. Whatever bits of naked skin they could find…in this case her hands and face, because she wore a long sleeves high necked gown, they caressed. Nearly sweetly. 

Alana absentmindedly drew her fingers through one tendril as she floated over to Azriel, sitting down onto his lap like that was an utterly normal thing to do. Feyre could just stare as Azriel pressed a kiss against her sister‘s cheek, one scarred hand possessively spanning her waist.

Like this was normal. Like this was something they had done dozens of times…like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like this was their usual routine…and Alana smiled at him, broadly, pressing a kiss against his cheek in greeting. 

It was...it was surreal, watching Alana like this. So much more open, less reserved than Feyre had ever seen her. And the way how Azriel looked at her...Feyre had never seen him express such open and utter adoration before. 

Cassian made a retching sound, catching Feyre’s attention. Azriel’s eyes darkened as he threw an icy look in Cassian’s direction. Alana just snuggled deeper into Azriel’s chest. 

Azriel let out the smallest of chuckles at Alana’s behaviour in his lap, one of his hands coming up to gently play with a strand of her dark hair as he pressed another kiss to her forehead. 

The quiet, brooding Spymaster of the Night Court, who could be downright terrifying when he wanted, completely and utterly smitten by her little sister. 

Feyre could just stare. 

She had not for one moment thought that they would…would be a good match. But here they were. 

Alana...Feyre had never seen her sister like this before. So open, so happy. So...unreserved. She was like a cat, settled in the lap of her male, letting him pet her like she was...like he owned her. And it seemed like Azriel would gladly claim ownership too. The possessive, proprietary look on his face told Feyre all she needed to know. 

“Get a room, for the love of the Mother,” Cassian drawled with a disgusted look on his face as Azriel buried his nose in her sister’s hair and Feyre shot him another dirty look. Alana just stuck her tongue out at him. 

Azriel just bared his teeth at Cassian, a silent warning to watch his tongue in the direction of the woman in his lap, who was busy playing with the buttons on his fighting leathers. 

“What did Nesta say?“ Feyre repeated as she sat down herself. 

The reactions were immediate. 

Azriel growled.

Feyre couldn’t help but flinch slightly. That growl...she hadn’t heard him make that sound before. It sounded utterly terrifying. Alana didn’t even flinch. She just touched Azriel’s chest in a soothing gesture and Azriel immediately quieted down, holding her even tighter. 

It doesn’t matter what Nesta had to say, Alana’s voice echoed in her mind.

“It absolutely does,” Feyre muttered, feeling some anger rising in her. Her sister deserved better than what Nesta had to say. 

I don’t care what she says, Alana replied in her mind. She can believe whatever she likes. She is entitled to her opinion. 

“She can be quiet about her opinion,” Azriel hissed. Only then Feyre realised that her sister must have been projecting her mental voice so that everybody could hear it.

"Azriel." Alana's voice was soft. "It's alright. We both know the truth. It doesn’t matter what she believes"

Azriel looked down at her and a slight frown appeared on his face. He gently cupped her sister's chin, his hazel eyes staring into her dark ones. Feyre could practically hear the silent conversation between them. 

Cassian sighed. "Nesta found out about the mating bond between Azriel and Alana and she didn't take it well," he told Feyre drily.

Of course, she didn’t. Of course, she didn’t. Feyre ground her teeth together. 

"So what exactly was said?" she asked sharply.

Cassian and Rhys shared a look as Azriel let out another warning growl. Feyre ignored him. 

I want to know, Feyre snapped towards Alana. Her sister stiffened. 

Feyre, Alana’s voice echoed in her mind, a hint of warning in her tone. Feyre pushed down a wave of irritation. 

Tell me, Feyre demanded. She was done with secrets. Done with not knowing things. 

It’s nothing, Alana tried to brush her off and Feyre’s irritation flared up in her stomach. 

It is not ‘nothing’. Feyre snapped at her. Her sister’s face was a stoic mask as Azriel let his hand span across her stomach. 

Nesta made a comment about how she was surprised that Azriel hadn't ripped me apart during our...mating. But maybe she shouldn't be surprised because I was a whore anyway, Alana finally answered. How a brute like him was all I amounted to, given that I was a bastard...and then there was some more stuff in that rant about how unfair it was that I had landed on my feet but Elain is...well...Elain isn't doing so good, Alana answered flatly.

Feyre felt her blood boil in her veins. Of course, Nesta would say something like that, the bitter, twisted...- Feyre bit down on the string of curses burning on her tongue. 

Nesta isn't doing well, Feyre. You can't take what she is saying right now to heart, Alana warned her softly. You haven't been in her mind...it's...it's bad.

Feyre felt some of her anger cool down ever so slightly. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t pissed off at Nesta for what she had said. Even if...even if Nesta wasn’t doing well. 

That doesn’t change anything about what she said, Feyre said through gritted teeth. 

I am not defending her, Alana said firmly. I love Nesta. Doesn’t mean that I like hearing her talk about Azriel like that. But Feyre... her voice grew softer. I have seen her mind. Her thoughts. She isn’t in a good place right now.

Feyre grimaced, feeling her anger slowly disappear. She didn’t like it. She didn’t want to. But...maybe Alana was right. Nesta was her sister, and Feyre loved her. Even after everything that had happened between them. 

Still...what she said... Feyre said weakly and Alana’s lips quirked. 

I know, she said gently. I was angry too. I nearly tore her head off. But Azriel...he was furious. I’ve never seen him like that before. 

Feyre didn’t need to be told how furious Azriel had been. The look in his eyes, the clenched jaw and the growl that Feyre had heard...she didn’t need anyone to tell her how the usually stoic male had been absolutely furious about what Nesta had said. 

"I'll talk to her," Feyre said aloud.

She ignored the dubious look that Cassian and Rhys were giving her. Her sister just smiled at her softly and nodded. 

Talk to her gently, she urged in Feyre’s mind. Please. And don’t...don’t try to defend me. It will only start a fight. 

Feyre winced. Even though, she didn’t like the thought of it and not defending her sister went completely against her nature, she knew that Alana was right. And her sister could read her thoughts with ease anyways. 

I’ll bite my tongue, Feyre promised her. Alana smiled at her again, that smile that lit up her entire face. Feyre felt her heart clench at the beautiful sight. 

“Thank you,” Alana said happily, her voice like the most wonderful sound. Feyre had a feeling that that was the thanks not only for agreeing not to defend her but for just...not making a scene. Feyre felt a small, answering smile tug at the corners of her own lips.

Instead, she watched her sister pick up a piece of bread from the plate in front of Azriel and hold it up for him to eat without another word. A silent gesture of acceptance.

Azriel’s lips twitched as he looked at his mate, sitting on his lap like she belonged there. But he obediently opened his mouth, a subtle sign of complete surrender to Alana. 

Cassian made another retching sound. Alana ignored him.

Azriel was the one who kissed Alana.

Feyre could have gone quite a long time without that sight. Especially because it wasn't a simple peck on the cheek or a quick kiss to her lips. 

Feyre could have gone forever without seeing her sister like this, settled in the lap of her mate, their bodies pressed together tightly as Azriel kissed her, devoured her, his hands possessively splayed out on her slender waist. 

"Now you are just fucking with me," Cassian said with a sigh.

Alana just broke out in a fit of giggles as Azriel threw a glare in Cassian’s direction. 

“Maybe I am,” Azriel mused, as Alana settled back into his lap. Azriel’s one scarred hand was back to playing with a strand of Alana’s hair. “Jealous?” he asked lightly and  Cassian actually growled at him.  Azriel snorted, his hand possessively covering Alana’s stomach, who was smiling like the happiest person in the world. 

“Shut up,” Cassian huffed. “I am not jealous. I just don’t want to know what you two get up to at night.” 

"Only at night?" Azriel asked drily. "Brother, you have much to learn."

Feyre groaned internally at the hint in Azriel’s voice as Cassian looked a little ashen, while Rhys burst out laughing and Alana let out another one of her pearly-bell like laughs. 

“Stop tormenting him,” Rhys said with a chuckle as Cassian tried to recover. “He’ll have nightmares for weeks if you continue like this.” 

“That sounds like a you problem,” Azriel replied, completely unrepentant, “not ours.” Alana was still giggling, a sound like tinkling bells in Feyre’s ears. 

“Of course you say that, you bastard,” Cassian said with a sigh as Azriel’s hand on Alana’s stomach started to slowly wander upwards. 

Feyre could see how Alana’s cheeks flushed slightly in response to the possessive touch. How her breathing quickened ever so slightly. Azriel’s lips twitched as he noticed it too. 

"We'll let you deal with Lucien," Alana said suddenly, gaining her feet quickly. "We'll see you at dinner. Az?"

“Coming, sweetheart,” Azriel said and Cassian made another retching sound as Feyre could feel the waves of possessiveness coming off Azriel in waves. Her sister was his. 

In a matter of heartbeats, they were gone. Feyre was left with Cassian and Rhys who were both looking at her intently. 

"Yes, they are always like that, if you wondered,” Cassian said with a roll of his eyes. "I think they are still in the Mating Frenzy."

“Most likely,” Rhys agreed with a chuckle. “But they also don’t seem to care who sees it. Mor is still horrified from walking in on them a few weeks ago.” 

“So would I be in her shoes,” Feyre said honestly and Cassian snickered. 

“They are insufferable, aren’t they?” He said with a grin. Rhys just chuckled. “So utterly happy.”

“Yes,” Feyre agreed, the image of the two of them, completely oblivious to the world around them still in her mind. “Unbelievably so.” 

“They’re also completely and utterly devoted to each other,” Rhys mused. “It is…kind of sweet.” Feyre nodded thoughtfully. 

It was sweet. The way Azriel looked at her sister, how he was so utterly possessive about her. And Alana…there wasn’t a hint of hesitation about her when it came to Azriel. 

"As long as she's happy," Feyre said quietly. As long as Alana was happy.

[horizon-verizon]

The showrunners just continue to steal from TV Daenerys’s characterization and final storyline to improve their Rhaenyra (a self righteous Targaryen woman with delusions of grandeur ? Groundbreaking), but she remains completely boring and forgettable. Dust in the wind.

And even though TV Daenerys is radically and entirely different from her book counterpart (as much as I love Emilia Clarke), TV Daenerys’ daddy didn’t tell her she’s special, unlike Rhaenyra, Daenerys realized she’s special when she brought back dragons from extinction and walked out of fire utterly unharmed, please can people stop compare her to any of the mid characters from HOTD ??

Speak it again, anon, bc what?! It's quite obvious that they are trying to inject as much a literal magic layer of significance in Rhaenyra's story as magic was in Dany's Or they are trying to make Rhaenyra more "important" in the Targ lineage & "interesting" to those who loved Dany (which is most of the fandom, lets' bfr) to promote the show. And yet at every turn they have also excused D&D's atrocious illogical writing of Daenerys' core traits and convictions behind the ol' "GRRM has not finished his series".

We know that there are only 2 books left of this series and Dany is still very NOT like her show counterpart's more...demanding isn't the right word but for now, we'll go with it. Based on this fact alone, people are so much more willing to believe that Dany will turn a 180 somewhere in these last 2 bks and destroy KL or do something akin to Mad!Aerys "bc Targs are crazy and she seeks to be a white savior while profiting from slaves". That this extreme turn for her will not happen for someone like Jon Snow who literally came back from the dead after nearly all under his command killed him. That they don't feel it rather be Cersei, not Dany, who'd blow up KL despite all the comparisons and actions she has similar to Aerys in the text, word for word verbatim. No it has to be Dany, bec she is a "foreign invader" come to ruin the good town of Westeros with her slave-owning ways.

Ryan Condal recently said as much about the D&D defense on BigThink:

Besides, there were a lot other instances where it's clear the real reason why they demolished her was to move on from the project and they just didn't like Dany. Go on over to ozymalek/PhoenixAshes' Youtube and search through to see how they broke it all down.

And yes, Dany actually showed/has very good reason to believe her singularity and even this pseudo-religious quality from her revitalizing dragons, effectively patching up a lot of the magical balance of the world by doing so.

What's also pretty cool is that bk!her still doesn't think of herself as a "god" the way Euron Greyjoy is kinda heading towards/is already at.

So it's so fucking weird how they are trying to re-capitalize on Dany's effect and show!character (and before that, her nonviolenet ADwD arc about the pits) for their false version of Rhaenyra bc apparently we can tolerate and even like ambitious, vengeful, cruel, or just selfish men like Euron, Robert B, Robb (not evil, but went to war for his own ends and his armies also raped indiscriminately), TYWIN [Rains of Castamere, everything else], etc. BUT a woman who has even just the mere self-concern to want to claim back a throne that was DEFINITIVELY usurped?! Nah, apparently, that's too much. She's unsympatheziable.

For a woman, she HAS to be "unselfish", trying to prove a point to men--dead or alive--of her strength 24/7, but unable to settle with an idea of her own "strength" or worthiness, and thus eventually be lead into semi-unintentionally building some strange "cult" around dragons from Westerosi religiosity to feel in control & for people to sympathize with her. She HAS to--as one Twitter user said--have a problem with her gender identity so as to attribute "womanly" stuff as "weak" to want the same things as what a man are granted.

If the audience is stupid, does that mean you should be as well and perpetuate MORE sexist stereotypes/frameworks? No; HotD is for the money and comes form a place of ignorant "women guide violent men" narrative, no matter much it claims it is "feminist" or how lore-knowledgeable Condal says he is.

We all know this is a media company and Condal is more businessman than creator and that you need sorta both a business/production sense as well as a creative spirit for TV/film. Problem is that Condal is inevitably and attempting to build an ethos and ethical narrative while also treating the org stories and GoT as material to re-market through his own "vision" of what he'd personally like to see as a ASoIaF story.

Just bc this is a huge media company doesn't mean whatever they say is "God" for the actual story they were tasked to adapt! You can enjoy that and still recognize nothing about it or most of it informs the orig story or "proves" anything of it WITHOUT bringing up good reasoning and comparisons as to how-why!

Much of the characterization/writing/plot decisions he makes are not about feminism or making the characters palatable for others but to--like with a lot of censorship--just make it so that as many people as possible are watching and are comfortable with the most popular but incorrect ideas of what ASoIaF & feminism or sexism is about, etc.. those of which have already been in fandom and larger life/online circulation for YEARS.

Therefore, there is much superficiality as well as what could have been fleshed out and nuanced ideas or directions the current writing HotD has AS WELL AS Condal's/Hess' own biases written into the very fabric of this show that mark it as just ASoIaF "fanfiction" instead of a strict "adaptation". I know people get annoyed with the fanfic allegations, but if you have an "adaptation" that no longer has most-to-any of the core ideas, themes, characterizations, EVENTS, etc. as its original, you call that a fanfic, not an adaptation. Just bc it came from a prestige major studio/company and had a lot of money thrown at it, doesn't make it actually an adaptation.

If the author themselves--even though they should know better bc look what happened with Dany, Euron, Cersei-Jaime, etc.--say something is egregiously wrong with how they written a certain thing in the show, it is not actually using the orig lore and therefore it is more fanfic than adaptation:

Dany--unlike any other Targ, which includes Rhaenyra--has a relationship with 3 separate dragons even though she will only ride one. Vermithor should NOT have been as "docile" with Rhaenyra as they were in the show (saw another clip online, still haven't watched the episode). There is still a reason why Jace tried to get her out TWICE, why Viserys was upset at Aemond for going down to the Dragonpit alone, why Rhaena nearly died trying to bond with some, , why Nettles approach and SUCCESS with Sheepstealer is so amazing, why Baelon bumping a dragon on the nose gave him the moniker "Baelon the Brave", etc. Dragons are damned dangerous to anyone who aren't their rider! And Rhaenyra's "specialness" was evident in the plethora and rise of dragon eggs....you want to show her as such? Have dialogue about the trajectory of dragon eggs laid compared to now vs 40/30/20/10 yrs ago!

Yes, most of the Targ women are connected and esp through magic and fertility & expressed "Targaryen woman's strength" and agency in unique but still related ways. But as rhaenin-time once said:

HotD thinks it's somehow an improvement to insist that actually, no, they're all just (by circumstance) variations of a "generic targ girl" template.

You could have even have Rhaenyra stumble on something a GoT character later finds but not have her go into that deep about it bc she's focused on the war/usurpation if you really want to stick with the whole oversimplified "distracted by selfish stuff" going on. Point is, Rhaenyra's significance was meager compared to Dany's SPECIFICALLY when we talk about active and participatory spiritutality/magic. Passively and more subtly, Rhaenyra dying spelled the end of dragons...so be subtle about it and stop with the whole "religious cult" nonsense that really is just a continuation of the whole Dany-is-a-facist nonsense we got in the final season of GoT. "Targ madness" and all that.

Of course they won't bc this is Condal's "vision", but hey, got things off my chest.

[sephirthoughts]

Mother

Chapter 1: The Grey Figure

summary: post-advent children, the remnants of sephiroth wind up somewhere they aren't supposed to be, without a clue how they got there, or how to get out. a mysterious figure takes them under its wing, claiming to want to help them.

tags: gratuitous silliness, slight mystery, post-canon, the remnants are the stars because we need more of them

rating: teen and up

warnings: amnesia, i guess?

Location: The Skyless Plains, Space Between Worlds

Through the bleak and barren waste, a solitary figure wandered. Grey and wraithlike, it was, veiled in hooded robes, like shredded wisps of cloud; invisible in the purple-grey fog, that hung heavily over the featureless landscape.

But that was alright. None who came here had eyes. 

The figure had just paused, to contemplate choosing another direction, in which to wander aimlessly, when a sound disturbed the perpetual calm. A voice. Then another, and another. Three voices!

“But such lively voices in this place are unheard of,” thought the figure, then laughed inwardly, believing itself to be terribly clever.

Since it had no specific reason to choose any other direction, the figure glided toward the lively voices, to take a look. Soon, it came upon their source: three legless and armless little blobs, who seemed to be quite small, for creatures capable of generating so much noise.

The grey figure thought of them as little, because, though size was entirely conceptual, here, when judged relative to the grey figure’s own size, theirs would be similar to grapefruits, if the grey figure is assumed to have the rough dimensions of a human being. 

In any case, the three little blobs were made of pale and wavering light; one white, one blue, and one green—which only mattered because the light was actually life force, which could be seen by those without eyes, and thus the colors perceived, in this place. 

“Greetings, little blobs,” said the grey figure, in as polite and non-terrifying a tone as it could remember how to configure. 

Of course, the three blobs screamed in terror and darted away as fast as they possibly could. Or, perhaps, darted is the wrong word. They had no limbs and, to be perfectly honest, were not very fast.

The grey figure stood watching, curiously, as the tiny disembodied existences wriggled in the grey dirt, inching away at a pace far slower than its own usual, aimless strolling. 

“Did we—did we lose her?” the green one panted (having absolutely no reason to be out of breath, since none of them had lungs).

“Maybe, but those things are wily,” said the (slightly) more intelligent white one. “She might be trying to trick us into letting our guard down.”

“No one told me to have my guard up, in the first place,” the blue one whined. “I’ve had it down this whole time.”

“Pardon me, little blobs,” said the grey figure again, in an even more polite and non-terrifying tone.

The three blobs repeated the process of howling and flailing stupidly in the dirt, until they succeeded in getting a few more inches away, upon which they repeated their former conversation, nearly verbatim.

The grey figure gave a forbearing sigh. Reaching down, it plucked up the three wriggling blobs and held them in its (purely conceptual) palms, to have a (metaphorical) look at them.

“You’ll never take us alive!” roared the white one.  

“I’m too beautiful to die!” wailed the blue one.

“I can’t feel my legs!” bellowed the green one.

“Calm down, little blobs,” the grey figure gently admonished. “You’re using up your life force, thrashing about, like this. If you keep it up, you’ll disappear altogether.”

“We’re not blobs, you reaper hag! We’re souls!” the white one contended. “And don’t even think about eating us! I’ll…I’ll lodge myself in your throat and choke you!!”

The grey figure considered this for some (or no) time (which did not exist here). “Hm. You do seem to be human souls. But you’re so small. You must be very young souls.”

“We’re not born yet,” the green one offered helpfully.

“Shut up, Loz!” the white one scolded. “Don’t tell it things!”

The grey figure seemed to smile. “Your name is Loz?”

“No!!” the white one thundered. 

“Yep,” the green one chirped.

“I’m Yazoo,” the blue one said languidly, as if speaking was a dreadful inconvenience, and it could only be asked to do so much.

“I said don’t tell it things!!” 

“You’re Loz, and you’re Yazoo,” repeated the grey figure. “And what’s your name, little one?”

“None of your business!” the white one wiggled angrily.

“He’s Kadaj,” the green one said. “We’re all brothers.”

“I see. So, you’ve always been together?”

“Yes.”

“Mn.”

“Ye—I mean! Who’s asking!! And put us down!”

“This is a curious riddle, little blobs,” the grey figure said musingly. “If you were never born, how do you have names?”

“We named ourselves!” growled Kadaj, the white one. “What do you care!”

“Did you? Well, they’re darling names,” the figure chuckled. “I like them, very much.”

“Thanks!” Loz chimed.

“Hmph,” Yazoo hmphed.

“So, Yazoo, Loz, Kadaj, tell me; how have you come here?”

The three blobs faltered, seeming to be at a loss.

“We…um. Well.”

“We really can’t…”

“We don’t know.”

The grey figure nodded. “I suspected as much. And where were you, before?”

“We don’t know.”

“No idea.”

“And we wouldn’t tell you anyway!”

“I ask because you look like human souls, to me. But if that’s the case, you shouldn’t have been able to come here. This is a place of exile, for those who can’t return to the lifestream.”

“We were in the lifestream, once,” Loz said cheerfully. “It was warm and bright!”

“Then we were…somewhere else,” Yazoo murmured.

“Now, we’re lost in this stupid wasteland,” Kadaj grumbled.

“Well, you’re in luck,” said the grey figure. “As it so happens, I’m the guardian of this place. If you’ve found your way here by mistake or mischance, there must be a way to send you back to where you belong.”

“The guardian?” Yazoo asked, skeptically. 

“What’s a guardian?” Loz wanted to know. 

“As guardian, it’s my task to oversee this place, and ensure that everything proceeds according to the rules. I’ve never tried to exercise my authority, before, because I’ve never had a reason. But this does seem to be the correct situation for it.” 

“Were you always here?” Loz asked.

“No. I was human, once.”

“You don’t seem human,” Kadaj said suspiciously. “How long have you been here?”

“That is a question,” the grey figure sighed. “It seems, not very long. And yet, I feel as if I carry the burden of ten-thousand centuries.”

“You can just say you don’t know,” Kadaj informed it, which made the figure seem to smile.

“Excuse me, um, ma’am,” Loz put in, shyly. “Do you have a name?”

The figure appeared briefly troubled. “I must have, but…I seem to have lost it.”

“Then, what do we call you?” Yazoo asked. 

“Yeah, we have to call you something,” Kadaj agreed.

The figure laughed softly, seeming to be pleased by this. “You wish to give me a name?”

“Well, we don’t actually know any names,” Loz admitted.

“We know our names, idiot,” Kadaj retorted.

“But we can’t use our names, they’re already ours,” Yazoo lamented.

“The three of you seem to know many words,” observed the figure. “Any word you know can serve as a name, if you choose to use it as one. Why not choose a word, for my name?” 

“Reaper hag,” Kadaj put forth confidently.

“But I’m not a reaper. Shouldn’t a name be a more unique designation, that avoids causing unnecessary confusion?” the grey figure reasoned.

The blobs were utterly confounded by this, and fell silent. 

The grey figure seemed to laugh, again, behind its wispy sleeve. “This is not a pressing matter. Think, for a while, and choose something you like, to call me. For now, let us go.”

“Hang on a minute, go where?!” Kadaj demanded. “We never agreed to go with you! This is some kind of trick, isn’t it!”

“I vote to go with the reaper hag,” Loz said. 

“Seconded,” Yazoo yawned. 

“There’s no voting! This isn’t a democracy! Hey, where are you taking us! I demand answers! I dem—mph! Mmmph!”

Kadaj’s outraged protestations were muffled, as the grey figure stuffed the three little blobs into its sleeve, and vanished.

To be more accurate, it didn’t really vanish, it simply used astounding speed to cross unfathomable (conceptual) distances, in negligible time (which did not exist here). Not that it would have mattered if it vanished or not, though, since again, no one could see it in the first place.

“Here we are,” it said, shaking the little blobs back out of its sleeve, to plop onto the grey ground.

“—have rights! I don’t have to put up with being manhandled by some reaper hag, just because I’m—” Kadaj broke off, bewildered. “Where are we?”

“Home,” the figure said, in a sepulchral facsimile of cheerfulness.

Kadaj scowled. “This doesn’t look like home. It looks like more shitty grey fog.”

“What should home look like?” the figure asked.

“It should have a house!” Loz answered sagely. 

As he spoke the words, some of the fog receded, and a cottage style, two-story house emerged, just as he’d imagined it, only grey.

“It should have a garden,” Yazoo ventured, and more of the fog lifted, revealing a perfectly idyllic kitchen garden, full of flowers and vegetables and herbs of many varieties, only they were all grey. 

“It should have a mother,” Kadaj said coldly. 

When he looked up to sneer at the grey figure, however, he found that it had transformed, into a lovely young woman, with a gentle smile on her face.

She was as grey as everything else, but her skin was fair and her eyes were deep, and her long hair, which she wore pulled up in a high ponytail, was somewhere in the middle. Her figure was slender and petite, and she wore a simple dress, with an apron and comfortable house shoes, like the mother character in a children’s storybook. 

“M…mother?” Loz faltered.

“She’s not our mother!” Kadaj exploded. “She’s that reaper hag, in disguise!”

“That’s true—well, not exactly true, since I’m not a reaper,” said the former grey figure, who was now a grey young woman. “I am the same person who brought you here. I have created this place for you, in accordance with your ideas regarding what a home is, to make you more comfortable. I suppose I’m to act as the mother, since you say a home requires one, and I can’t create sentient beings.”

“Mother!” said Loz and Yazoo, bouncing happily.

“Since we’re home, shall we go inside?” asked the grey young woman.

“Inside, inside!” Loz and Yazoo cheered.

“You’re both idiots seeking death,” Kadaj groused, sullenly following the others into the house, with his arms crossed and his little silver eyebrows lowered in a scowl. Then he abruptly realized he had arms to cross, and a chest to cross them on, as well as legs to follow the others with, and gave a yelp. “I’m a person! Y—you guys are people, too! We were born! Wait, that doesn’t make sense.”

“Since this place is intended for your comfort, I gave you human forms, based on the condition of your souls,” the grey woman explained. “You’re children, now, because you’re so weak and small.” 

“Shouldn’t we be babies, then?” Kadaj pointed out. 

“I’ve no wish to care for infants, who can neither speak, nor do anything for themselves, so I gave you a little spiritual energy boost. Your physical ages should be around six human years.”

“Couldn’t you have given us a big one, so we can be grown ups?” 

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” the woman said gravely.

“Is it against the rules?”

“No. It’s just that I think you’re absolutely precious like this,” she grinned, reaching down to pinch Kadaj’s little round cheeks.

“Back, hag!” he barked, striking out with both hands, to fend her off. Unfortunately, he had the strength of a six year old, and the woman simply ignored his little slaps and pinched his cheeks to her heart’s content. 

His eyes were blazing with white-hot indignation, and the moment she released him, he ran away up the narrow stairwell. A second or two later, they heard a door slam, upstairs.

“Only just become a mother, and it seems I’ve already got a teenager,” the young woman mused. “Wherever does the time go?”

“Mother? We’re hungry,” Yazoo said, tugging on her apron.

He was looking up at her with the largest, saddest eyes, and an aggrieved pout, which, on his beautiful, childlike face, was a devastating blow capable of slaying gods and mortals, alike. 

“Mother, can you cook us something?” Loz put in, tugging on her apron on the other side.

“I’m not sure. I suppose we’ll find out, won’t we,” she said, and entered the kitchen with the intrepid air of an adventurer, sallying forth into an undiscovered country, fraught with unknown dangers.

THE AUTHOR HAS SOMETHING TO SAY 

yazoo: mother we’re ever so hungry

loz: please make us food, mother

system: [-1000 points of puppy-eyes damage to party member mother] 

grey figure: [spitting out blood] my character settings are not specced for this 

[itsnothingofinterest]

So it’s looking like we might be getting the ‘AFO gave Tenko his quirk’ theory confirmed and I gotta be honest; I am not in favor. I’m hardly the first to take this position, both before and after this chapter dropped, but if I may attempt to put into words why; it’s that I don't think it can really add anything except reveal postmortem some new way AFO is bad in the best case & handing Deku a potential deus ex machina in the worst case.

Like, the best case result of such a revelation at this point in the plot is that it's just to make AFO seem more evil by making him the root cause of the Shimura tragedy, except…only in a way that doesn’t even matter. Like, this reveal shouldn’t change any of Tomura’s motivations or talking points; he already knows AFO manipulated him & hates him for that, but he also hates Kotaro, Nana, All Might, and the greater hero society for the role they played in his tragedy, and AFO giving him Decay wouldn’t change how much everyone else I listed deserves that ire. It just means that some of the tragic happenstance of the Shimuras that seemingly could've happened to anyone was instead purposefully cause by that jerk we know.

It’s like if we learned AFO killed Endeavor’s father, leading him down the path to become the domestic abuser we know him as. Thus the tragedy of the Todorokis would also come back to AFO...but y’know…not in anyway that matters. Endeavor, Touya, and everyone else involved still made their choices; AFO’s just the root cause of it all by sheer technicality. How diabolical, I might care if he were still relevant.

The worst case result of such a revaluation of course is that it gives Deku an unearned & largely uninteresting easy out to solving the problem that is Tomura's rage. Because if AFO gave him Decay, then he's actually the one ultimately responsible for near everything, if not just everything wrong in Tomura's life (even if, again, just by technicality in some areas). Never mind the rolls Kotaro, Nana, All Might, and greater hero society played in it; AFO's the real root cause of it all whose been manipulating Tomura for longer than he even knows, so he should just stop caring about that other stuff.

Plus it'd also mean Tomura doesn't exist to destroy because Decay isn't his true quirk (never mind how that's not why he thinks that & he never even put much stock into that quirk-identity stuff anyway) so he can just stop being a villain now please.

Yeah this all just doesn't seem like the most interesting way for Deku to tackle Tomura's trauma, talking points, or motivations.

Plus, like a live action Disney movie, the idea's kind of felt like it’s tying up a ‘plot hole’ that didn’t need tying up; that might even work better as a coincidental tragedy. Like; people act like this can’t be just a tragedy, it's too convenient, it has to be some master machination of the grand demon lord who…is already beaten, dead, and doesn’t factor into anyone’s plot lines or themes anymore. At best, to make him seem more evil long after the point we have any reason to care; at worst, to give Deku an easy out (with the side effect of making him seem like a worse hero who can’t save villains in Tomura's position without unique circumstances to make it easy).

Also like a live action Disney movie, this almost feels like it opens up a plot hole in trying to tie one up. Because as we know; Tenko’s circumstances are identical to Eri’s, down to the signs of their quirks being random mutations. When I said the tragic happenstance of the Shimuras we're blaming AFO for could've happened to anyone; I know this because it happened verbatim to her. So if those circumstances (just so happening to get a deadly quirk that kills their families, which just so happen to be connected to the villain who'll use & abuse them, etc.) are seen as suspicious, early signs that AFO gave Tenko Decay…did he or another villain give Eri Rewind? Almost certainly not; but if not then why does she get a random mutation-caused tragedy, while Tenko must have been the victim of some villain’s plot that's already been foiled?

So my point is: I really hope this is just a red herring. Revealing that AFO gave Tenko Decay kind of feels like it undercuts the Shimura tragedy as something that could've happened to any kid in Tenko or Eri's shoes; and I don't think any payoff you'd get for that undercutting is worth it.

We should instead get the much funnier revaluation that the man who brought Tenko home that day was, rather than AFO, a completely different man who Deku would coincidentally recognize: Hisashi Midoriya.

[sid471]

Ellie Disventure Camp also needs a time out 😶

Ellie fans, I’m sorry, no I’m not, but I’m coming for your girl. But let me start by saying, I LOVE a villain. Especially a bad ass female villain. That’s why I like Fiore and Riya. But Ellie… is not bad ass. She’s just plain petty 😶 and, listen, petty villains have their place in my heart too. But Ellie is not just petty but also spiteful. For no reason .-. And yeah, yeah, I know she needs money, she’s relatable, you would do the same for a million dollars, blah blah shut it >_> Now, let’s begin with Jake ☺️

Now, imma just say, I love Jake, I’ve been team Jake since season 1, but I’m not gonna deny that Jake is annoying. He is sometimes 🤷🏻‍♂️ but he does not deserve the fuckin… psychological torture by Ellie ._. Y’all love to say JAKE is petty and obsessive but ELLIE is the one who’s pissy at Jake for being, RIGHTFULLY, upset for ruining his relationship 😶 and it looks to me like she’s been like that… the whole time? .-. Last episode, episode 6, She made Tom and Aiden kiss for NO reason other than to fuck with Jake ._. Like, she says that verbatim 😶 Her exact words are “I suggested the idea of the kiss, but the reasoning we just made up. This might be evil, but I can’t pass up the opportunity to see Jake lose his mind again. Hey, with no tv out here, it’s the next best thing.” Like, girl! This is… just ridiculous ._. What did Jake do to you? Rightfully get angry at you for betraying his trust and completely ruining his relationship? Not even Season One Grett would stoop this low 😶

And THEN, in episode 7, the latest episode so spoilers sorry, she again uses Tom and Aiden just to fuck with Jake .-. Granted, this one gets half of a pass because it WAS an actual game move and it worked out 🤷🏻‍♂️ But was it necessary? Mm. Debatable. Speaking of unnecessary. Let’s talk Tom 😊

Ellie dislikes Tom. For what reason? I couldn’t tell ya 😶 SHE fucked HIM over, SHE trash talked HIM on national TV. Not the other way around .-. Why is SHE mad at HIM ._. And why is she surprised that Tom is generous? He was a great guy, all things considered, in season 1 .-. Know what it smells like to me? ✨Projection✨. SHE’S gonna use the money for self fulfilling reasons, so of course everyone else is too 🤷🏻‍♀️ I think Ellie can dish it but she can’t take it, know what I mean? She can trash talk Jake, Tom, Miriam, AND Alec and that’s fine, she needed the money 🤷🏻‍♀️, but if any of those people are angry at her for the things she said? All hell breaks loose 😶 You can dislike Riya, but at least she owns her mess 😊 She knows she’s a villain and she owns it. She doesn’t do Villain Things, then try to revert back to her early season 2 self, no, Riya owns her shit.

Now, let’s talk about Gabellie. They’re very cute :3 I like them together, they’re sweet. However… Ellie, Gabby is your ONLY friend and only true ally. She HAS Tess… but like she also doesn’t, Tess could be swayed by Aiden, I feel, and especially could be swayed by Ally if they both make the merge. Ellie’s only guaranteed number is Gabby right now. So, what does Ellie do for her only ally, and, y’know, her girlfriend? Lie to her 😶 Now, listen, I understand lying to Tess, Aiden, and Tom about the villain alliance. That’s just smart gameplay 🤷🏻‍♂️ But lying to Gabby? No .-. Pull her to the side and tell her the truth 😶 Show that you trust her >_> because it’s very clear that Gabby adores Ellie with all of her heart, she wouldn’t have said a word 😊 but no 😶 Ellie lied to her. And now Gabby knows Ellie lied to her. And now Gabby could very well turn on Ellie because if she lied about the villain alliance, what else could she lie to her about ya know?

In conclusion: Ellie is a try hard villain 😶 She wants to be Fiore, Season 1 Grett, and Riya so bad and it’s embarrassing 😊

[emblemxeno]

Fire Emblem Heroes-CYL Bonus Quotes + My Ideas for the Ones Who Don't Have Them

Choose Your Legends Winners have bonus quotes when they are on a team you enter a map with and playing with English voices (only the English voices have these quotes actually)! These are popular or funny quotes from their home games or other appearances, like Smash Bros.

CYL1

"The future is *not* written."-Lucina's victory quote in Smash Bros.

"Roy's our boy!"-Roy's crowd chant in Smash Bros.

"I'll be your peerless warrior!"-Lyn's promising words to Mark at the end of FE7 prologue

"You... like Ike?"-Ike's crowd chant in Smash Bros.

CYL2

"Take me with you!"-Veronica... I think she says this once to Bruno, but I can't find where specificailly

"Together, we will always stay."-Ephraim's A Support with Eirika

"Nothing will ever come between us."-Celica to Alm as kids during Echoes' opening movie

"I just gotta be me, y'know?"-Hector's A Support with Lyn

CYL5

"Let's go rescue my brother!"-Eirika to her troops at the end of FE8 chapter 6

"Caeda, what's wrong!?"-Marth to Caeda in FE1 chapter 1

"Please forgive me, Goddess..."-A constant sentiment of Marianne's character, and said verbatim once she slays her first enemy in FE16 chapter 2

"There was something to report, wasn't there?"-A staple of Gatekeeper's dialogue, said verbatim in FE16 chapter 5

CYL6

"I am *no* chatterbox."-Reference to Hapi's nickname for Byleth

"There is more than one truth."-What Sigurd's ghost says to Seliph, after Seliph lands the finishing blow on Arvis and waits next to the beach in FE4 chapter 10

"My... autograph?"-Tiki's C Support with Anna

"You are yourself."-Chrom's consoling words to Robin in FE13 chapter 13

CYL8

"Now... what was so damned important?"-F!Robin's B Support with Chrom

"You must be joking."-Felix during his Goddess Tower event in FE16 chapter 9

"One day... I'll be left alone."-A reference to the correct response to one of her advice box questions during FE16's war phase (this one I'm not 100% on, if anyone has corrections let me know in the replies)

"I'm going to kill you, too."-Alfonse to Letizia during Book 6, Chapter 5, Part 5: I Killed Him

However, the winners of CYL3 (2019), CYL4 (2020), and CYL7 (2023) don't have these bonus quotes. The reasons, if the directors or higher ups of the localization team forgot or they weren't too high priority for the time, are unknown. So I thought I'd take a stab at what I think they'd be for those winners.

CYL3

"I'll have their heads on a platter!"-Camilla at the of FE14 chapter 3

"I'm proud I took your hand."-Eliwood's A support with Hector

"I have finally found my purpose."-Micaiah at the end of FE10 chapter 3-F

"This isn't where things end for us!"-Alm to Celica before returning to face Duma together in Echoes Act 5

CYL4

"You think I'm special?"-Lysithea's A support with Claude

"We'll scale the walls between us!"-Claude during Verdant Wind's final cutscene

"Take your first step!"-Edelgard to the Black Eagles after escaping the Holy Tomb

"I am finally home again..."-Dimitri at the end of Azure Moon chapter 18

CYL7

"Remember where you came from."-Mikoto to Corrin at the end of FE14 Revelation chapter 24

"My only wish was to see you again."-Soren to Ike in their base conversation in FE10 Endgame 5

"A gift of revelation..."-Seiðr to the Summoner, Book 7, Chapter 5, Part 1: Goddess's Descent

"Get eaten by a bear. I don't give a damn."-M!Robin's B support with Aversa

[baddygab-bi]

My mom’s a general audience member in her sixties. Doesn’t read articles. Doesn’t watch interviews. Had NO spoilers. A very casual watcher. She once said “they’re not gay” when I told her about how “some gay people” (hi, yeah, me but she doesn’t know I ship nor that I’m bi) ship Buck and Eddie as buddie.

Here’s her thoughts:

Helicopter scene: “huh. Interesting.” Then about Tommy “who’s that guy? I remember him from last episode, but who is he?”

Sewer scene: “that’s funny. That’s cute.” About Buck watching Chris. She also was confused about Eddie suddenly having another car that’s not his truck. She thinks Ravi is adorable and funny.

Maddie and Buck at home: “so he’s jealous, what can you do?” “There’s nothing you can do.” “I don’t know why Buck is at Maddie’s house… I know they’re siblings.” “What’s the big deal, so what? Eddie has a new best friend, you can have many best friends.”

After pressing about Tommy: “He’s not gay, is he?” I said: You can’t just ask someone if they’re gay. “They’re getting really buddy-buddy”

Amazon prime scene: when Buck was doing the weights, she was mumbling something that looked like “no. Stupid. No” (we’re on FaceTime and only unmute on commercial breaks). She thought the Prime ad was funny. “Apparently the other guy (she means Eddie) isn’t interested.” “Buck is going to be lonely if he doesn’t find another friend to play, that’s all.” “I thought he was gonna kill himself with the bar weights.” “He’s not gonna come to your rescue, dude.” “He wanted his friend to spot him and look at him, not the other guy (Ravi).” “But Eddie’s busy with Tony.” (Yes she said Tony.)

She’s more invested in the mom shooting her son and Harry and Athena than I want her to be. I need her to be IN THESE BISEXUAL BUCK TRENCHES. Also is this my coming out moment lmao? I’m just gonna say I like his acting.

Basketball: “that was a killer move. He had so much anger and he wanted to really hurt him and he did.” “He’s jealous! And they were winning!” (Huh, they were winning.) “it’s all about the bonding, the guy things. He’s jealous, that’s all there is to it.” “And sooner or later, Eddie isn’t going to want to be around Buck, he’s gonna want to be around Tommy.” I asked her about the song that was playing, she didn’t hear it. Rewatched the scene to hear the song. Song thoughts: “oh there was music.” I bet she won’t understand the words. I was right, verbatim. She put on the captions. “Just because Eddie gets a broken ankle, I don’t want him to leave the show.” She thinks someone is gonna leave at the end or die, I kinda tricked her into thinking Tommy’s gonna die. She asked what a beard is. Told her. “Let me ask you something—no—wait—Eddie’s not gay. Neither is Chimney. So why would he be a beard?” I asked why she thought Eddie was gay. “Not Eddie. Buck! Buck’s not gay.” I told her nobody on the court is gay (not a lie technically). “Exactly. Nobody is gay.” Still listening to the song: she likes the song. She’s into this scene that I made her watch three times. “Ooohh he drove him.” “They’re not gonna be friends any more.”

Buck and Maddie at lunch: Liked Maddie going blonde and the Sarah story. Thinks Maddie was right he was acting like a kid, so jealous. “I want to be your friend too. Include me.”

The SCENE: she has no clue what’s about to happen. No idea. Is nodding when Buck said he was jealous. “Wow” about Buck wanting to get to know Tommy. “That was funny!” After they kissed. “Buck was trying to get his attention and he just kissed him.” “It’s nice. Good. It’s an interesting ending. So now those two will be friends.” I asked if she missed the end of that scene. “No! They’re going out on Saturday at 8am to learn to fly a helicopter.” I told her to rewind it. On the rewatch: “You can have more than one friend!” After Buck said he thinks Tommy is cool “He likes him… okay.” “Tommy went in for the kiss.” She smiling now. “They’re gonna get a beer.. and kiss.”

Promo for next week: she gasped when Buck said it was his first date with a guy. She thought it was just two guys going out for a drink. She didn’t realize they were romantically involved. “Who did Eddie bring to the restaurant?” I said it was his girlfriend “when did she get on the show?”

And on Buck being bi? “It’s nice.”

Was she expecting it? “I thought Buck was more interested in Eddie. Because of the jealousy. I thought Buck and Eddie would be kissing. And then Tommy comes along and he’s gonna kiss one of them.” “Tommy is cute, he’s gonna kiss somebody. Once they add another character it has to be someone to kiss Eddie or Buck.” “I was waiting for them to have a threesome.” “They’re just men having fun! All three of them!” “I thought Tommy and Eddie were gonna kiss. I forgot about the girlfriend.”

[missmungoe]

titles, a little future-fic inspired by a spoiler I saw for chapter 1089. Shanks x Makino & Pirate King!Luffy.

She’d been saying it for so long it had become second nature, from the moment her belly had first started rounding under her hands, talking to the child within, to the mornings she'd work in her bar, her newborn sleeping in the sling against her breast, telling him about the boy who'd used to come running through her doors, leaves in his hair and dirt under his fingernails, and his little hands cupped around a beetle for her; the one who was no longer a boy but a king, although Makino wondered sometimes if he always would be the first, to her.

But she said it often, wanting her son to know him for what he was, ever-growing bounty and long list of monikers notwithstanding, Straw-Hat and Emperor and King. And so it only followed that he would take to saying it, too, the syllables taking shape, first awkwardly as he learned to speak, and then with more confidence, until it became a common occurrence, whenever his photograph appeared in the newspaper, or an updated edition of his wanted poster.

“Big brother!”

“Yes,” she would say, ruffling his hair tenderly where he'd sit on the floor by the bar, his little hands wrapped around the poster, showing her the grinning face on it, the boy she'd once known now a young man, and changed in more ways than just the years that had passed since his departure, his once-black hair bleached the white of a brilliant sun. But even older, and different, she knew the smiling face beneath the black print, and better than most. “That’s your big brother.”

This usually prompted an eager repetition, in the way of children learning how the pieces of their world fit together, mama and papa and uncle, and her son had a hundred and then some, each one as dear as the next. And brother, although she hoped it would be a few more years before he started asking about the specifics of this particular family tree, wonderful and complicated as it was, but Makino would tell him when he did―that brother didn't need to mean by blood, and that no one knew the meaning of the word as well as his own did, the two who lived, and the one she would make sure still did, remembered in the wide brown eyes asking for stories about him.

But accepting their relation was simple enough, the words repeated often, and she quickly learned to distinguish the different inflections and what they meant, spoken to a photograph in the paper, or shrieked at a passerby in a straw-hat in Goa’s market district. And gentler, after tucking him in, the implied request made with those wide brown eyes, “Big brother?”

“Shall we read the story?” Makino would ask, and after a furious nod, she’d read from the latest article in the newspaper, embellishing the sometimes dry journalistic descriptions with the skill of a girl who’d grown up between the pages of books, although the theatrics she’d learned from someone else (his father, who’d tell it better, Makino knew, or at least with more panache, and a flourish that would see their son shrieking with laughter), and glossing over certain segments, included to keep the navy appeased, although she could have read every word verbatim and those wide eyes wouldn’t have changed, the hero in his story untouched by the judgement of the navy and the world press, but then as far as Monkey D. Luffy was concerned, that little heart had already made up its mind about what he was.

And she’d grown so used to hearing the words, babbled to himself as he played, content in his own company as she'd always been in hers, bringing his long-time hero to life with his imagination, the brother he hadn't even met yet, that she didn’t even react, the morning it was suddenly shrieked into the quiet common room of her bar.

“Big brother!!!”

She was in the storeroom trying to focus on doing inventory (it was hard with a hand up her skirt, and she was trying her best to be quiet), when she heard it, pitched with such a shrill delight it made her wonder if the newspaper had arrived with an updated wanted poster, before another voice asked, deeper than she remembered―

“Makino?”

She nearly dropped the bottle in her hands, and only a nimble set of fingers saved it from shattering across the floor of her pantry, and that somehow still had time to adjust her skirt before she fairly threw herself through the door where it sat ajar, a deep laugh chasing her.

A man stood in the doorway of her bar, the bat-wing doors still swinging behind him (she could still remember a time he'd been small enough to walk beneath them, Makino thought, dazed).

Her son had pushed up on his feet, his little hands fisted in the cloak draping from Luffy's shoulders, wider than she remembered, and his own hands lifted to hover around the eager little boy who'd run to greet him.

For his part, Luffy looked like he wasn’t sure he’d entered the right bar.

“Um,” he said, to the toddler excitedly tugging at his cloak.

“Up!"

The demand was answered promptly and without question, but then for all his visible confusion, there were few Makino knew who could readjust as quickly as the young man before her, now holding her son and looking like he still wasn’t sure he’d docked in the right port.

On his hip, Ace was beaming, but then there was no confusion in that little heart of just who’d walked through her doors.

Luffy looked from the toddler on his hip to her, standing behind the counter, his mouth open like he was about to say something, when several more figures appeared through the bat-wing doors behind him.

“Who’s this?” a beautiful young woman with long copper hair asked. Nami, Makino knew her name, but then their wanted posters filled the back wall of her pantry.

“He’s cute,” Nico Robin agreed, appearing on Luffy's other side.

“You’re holding him weird,” Zoro said, his arms crossed, before his one eye swept the common room of her bar. Makino saw it pause on her where she stood, and the sword peeking out from behind her back, slid through the knot of her apron.

“You didn’t mention you had a little brother, Luffy,” Franky said, lifting his sunglasses where he’d ducked through her doorway.

“This must be the enchanting Makino-chan~!”

Sanji had barely made it two steps into her bar before Nami yanked him back by the jacket of his suit.

"Makino-san," greeted the skeleton politely, his cane tucked beneath his arm as he swept her a bow, even going so far as to take off his top hat. Then as he straightened back up, "Might I be so bold as to ask you―"

"No," Nami cut him off.

“Apologies for not calling ahead,” said another voice, as Makino's eyes widened, moving up the towering fishman who'd appeared behind the others, the words directed to her as Jinbei inclined his head in a bow. Then with a grin at Luffy, “Captain wanted it to be a surprise, although it seems he’s been beaten to the punch."

Still holding her son, his wide brown eyes taking in the crew around him, Luffy didn’t seem to know what to say.

"Why are you so shocked?" Usopp asked him. "Dad told me before they left. Didn't Red-Hair say anything?"

Luffy looked at him, his eyes wide, just as calm footsteps drew their collective attention to the tall figure who’d emerged from her pantry, coming to stand beside her as a warm hand brushed over her back. To Luffy, “There you are,” Shanks said, picking up a dish towel to throw over his shoulder. “Took you long enough. We've been here for weeks and we set sail from Laugh Tale after you.”

There was a long pause where Luffy just stared at him, his arms still around the cooing toddler reaching for his straw hat. Then, shrilly, “Shanks?!”

“You didn’t tell him?” Makino asked, and batted his hand away when it not-so-discreetly tugged her blouse into place. He hadn't even bothered buttoning his shirt back up.

That grin knew where her thoughts had gone, but all Shanks said was, “And miss out on this opportunity?”

“Is this why you had the others take the ship to Goa today?” she asked, as he blinked innocently. “So they wouldn’t see it coming into port?”

“Hm?" Shanks asked. "I don't know what you're talking about. That was to pick up our shipment.” When her look wasn't convinced, his grin only grew, and placing his hand over his heart, told her very seriously, “I swear on my honour as a pirate.”

"Not your honour as a barkeep?" Makino parried.

"I think I left that in the pantry with your underw―mmpppfh!"

His filthy grin was too wide for her hands to cover, and ignoring it―and her incriminating blush, which wasn't any more subtle―she primly turned to the Straw-Hats, observing them with amusement, and just in time to catch Brook as he bent his head to murmur to Nami, "I suppose that answers my question."

The girl had enough grace to avert her gaze, although the grin she failed to hide with her cough was less discreet, Makino thought.

For their captain's part, he hadn't moved, his expression frozen where he stared at them behind the bar, the toddler on his hip babbling eagerly.

“He’s processing,” Nami explained.

“Give him a minute,” Robin agreed.

“You’re still holding him weird,” Zoro said, just as Ace made another grab for the straw hat, nearly tumbling out of Luffy's arms, which saw them all scrambling to catch him.

It was what snapped Luffy out of his daze, his arms stretching, grabbing their son before he could hit the floor, to loud objections from his crew, and the shrieking delight of the little boy in their midst, made the sudden centre of attention.

"You almost dropped him!!"

"He's not made of rubber, Luffy!"

"What are you doing? Don't bounce him like that!"

"But he likes it!"

Their voices had risen to fill her bar, although louder was the laughter of the two at the centre of the chaos, as Luffy lifted him up as high as he'd go, his earlier confusion forgotten under that infectious joy.

A big hand brushed her back tenderly, his voice pitched beneath the din as Shanks bent his head towards her ear to murmur, "This is why I didn't tell him."

Her grin couldn't be helped any more than her tears, as Makino tucked her brow to his shoulder, and heard his chuckle as Shanks kissed the top of her head.

Luffy was watching them now, a different look in his eyes, one that belonged to the boy who'd stood there once, his little hands cupped around a beetle for her (a red one to cheer her up, because she'd been so sad, the day he'd left), not the king who'd returned in his place. Their son was back on his hip, the straw hat he'd sought now in his possession, so big it obscured his whole head. Without it, she could see Luffy's face clearly, older than she remembered, his cheeks without their youthful pudge and dusted instead with a dark scruff. They’d have to update his wanted poster soon if he kept this up.

Smiling, the quaver in her voice held years in it, of missing teeth and dirty fingernails and endless gifts of beetles to make her smile, a pride that ached in her chest now, as, “Welcome home, Pirate King,” Makino said, although she'd barely spoken the words when their son turned his head towards the bar, a little hand pushing up the brim of the straw hat as he said, this time with an entirely new inflection, not requesting confirmation or a story but offering a correction.

“Big brother!”

And while she might have thought once that nothing could ever surpass the importance of the first, and the dream he’d held onto so fiercely, seeing the grin that lit Luffy’s face now, Makino didn’t need to wonder which title held the greatest value, at least not to the one who knew, and perhaps better than anyone, the meaning of those two words.

[thewickedbohemian]

Thoughts on a wild High Potential pun kinda intended

hello critters

dude she said IN THE TANK!

where art thou, Romeo?

the tell-tale printer

why is everyone wearing patterns

an answer to the "manny" thing

missing frog that can't be good

Morgan in the vet's office with the snake tranq

and there's the frog

voice-command printer of course

someone's got a date!

seems like a good friend

forget good cop bad cop this is friend cop cop cop

Oz confirmed geek and that's a nice way to do the face-recognition-sketch-y, via The Avengers

I hate to be stereotypical but you get this guy's vibe from ex-con-turned-personal-trainer

Morgan quoting Selena seemingly verbatim (how neuroweird of her, I sometimes do similar things with quote-as-justification so people know their exact words)

those pills aren't what they look like

and busted

this guy's like a crazy dog person about a tarantula

oh so we have a second apartment

and the other team found a clue too

Oz is such a kid

gun...oh wait nevermind and now everyone's all at the secret apartment

there's a whole lot of illegally obtained critters including the supposedly incinerated spider

Morgan's mind working a million miles an hour and I'm getting Librarians flashbacks (to both Cassandra and Flynn)

there's the infodump-of-the-week-on-seemingly-random-yet-related-topic (pollinator gardens), I was starting to worry we weren't gonna get one

Karadec, they're les-bee-ans

that confession seemed a little too easy, what's the twist gonna be

ten metaphorical bucks says Karadec's an ISTJ (vibes, y'know)

the kids don't know they're helping

and Morgan's observational mind just went full on Criminal-Minds-y vision mode

it's all in Shane's face (in more ways than one)

nice little bit of date-crashing improv (potentially foreshadowing a thing)

so that's the a-plot b-plot thematic connection

ok holy soap opera

so it's not a representation fail as at least one was actual lesbian

that was not what the mom needed to hear

this is all about parental love it seems

and Morgan makes up with Ava and I was half-right about the pills

but why does Ava have what looks like not just a hat but a straw hat on her light

and tarantula and slightly eccentric owner are reunited (I presume Daphne and Oz told him what happened so he doesn't think she rose from the dead)

[trans-peridot]

FFxivWrite Day 4: Reticent

Saw this prompt and immediately knew it would have to be Urianger. Didn't know what, just knew who. In the end I settled on Tayfun's perspective of a certain scene in post-ARR. Spoilers for that, naturally. Urianger's dialogue is verbatim from the game, everything else is my writing.

Tayfun had never seen Urianger cry before. Perhaps simply because he’d never had cause in her presence, perhaps because of the dark goggles always obscuring his eyes. But more importantly than either of those reasons, because he went above and beyond in playing his emotions close to his chest. She had never seen him happy before, or angry, or really show any emotion. Alright, there had been one time. When Moenbryda first arrived in the Rising Stones and tackled him with a hug, Tayfun had gotten the briefest of glimpses to a rare Urianger emotion: flustered. Oh, Moenbryda...

Tayfun had never seen Urianger cry before. And even as he was speaking his soliloquy on her death, his voice remained as level as ever. But she could sense the effort he was putting into keeping it that way. “...Knowingly did I deny my friend the comfort she craved. And now she hath gone to her rest with doubt still in her heart.” Tayfun finally realized why he spoke like that. If every word was so strategically selected, emotion couldn’t sneak into one’s delivery.

“Urianger, you may wish to know what she said in her final moments. She spoke to Louisoix, said she finally understood his choice. She said, ‘In death there is life.’ I think she made her choice because she had cleared away that doubt.”

“Speakest thou in earnest? Did Moenbryda truly come to understand Master Louisoix's will before the end?” Tayfun had never seen Urianger cry before. On his face must have been the legendary Goggles of Reticence. “The realization hath set her free. She may now find the peace which hath for so long eluded her.” He remained stonefaced. “Oh, Moenbryda... My dearest... How I shall miss thee...”

“But her very last words weren’t to Louisoix. The very last thing she said was... She said, ‘Farewell, Urianger... you daft old coot.’ Her last thoughts were of you.”

Tayfun had never seen Urianger cry before. But as she studied his face, she could have sworn she saw a single drop of moisture slip past his defenses. “My lady Minfilia. I would mourn Moenbryda in mine own way. I beg your permission to return to the Waking Sands.” Tayfun knew that quaver all too well. He couldn’t hold it in forever and he needed to get out now before they saw him feel something. He didn’t even wait to hear Minfilia’s reply in the affirmative before he turned to brisky escape the eyes of his comrades.

For a moment Tayfun considered going after him, offering a shoulder to cry on, telling him he didn’t need to hide his feelings from his friends. But Tayfun had never seen him cry before, and that was clearly on purpose. Though it pained her to admit it, the best thing she could do was allow him to grieve alone. There were enough scions still in the room with her who would want her help, anyway.

[vishnavishivaa]

Unexpectedly

Seems like I cannot control myself. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Kundavai was reeling internally. 

Everything had happened so fast, starting from her uyir thozhi’s vow, to the death of her stepmother, all successively bombarding her with heartaches. She could not help but feel that she was a big reason for the oath that Vanathi had taken, though her brother was as big a reason as she herself was. 

She closed her eyes, and every time, the image was of the absolute hurt on Vanathi’s face when she made the oath- an oath she had decided because the rumours had reached Arulmozhi, who had clearly and pointedly spoken to her at the Nandi Mandapam. 

Though, Kundavai could detect some emotion for her from him, something that was blossoming, something that was present, but something even her brother could not recognize. 

And Vanathi was the one who had been hurt by it.

Kundavai did not know what it was, but she knew that there was more to the two of them than just her wish and desire. 

Tears filled her eyes, and she sighed softly, resting her head on her hands. She should have been more careful with Vanathi. 

“Akka?”

The concerned voice of Arulmozhi reached her ears, usually nectar to them at his very tone. His presence was still soothing to her, but her heart was overwhelmed about Vanathi in that minute, and tears leaked down her cheeks and down her chin, those that were caught by her brother quickly, not allowing them to fall. 

“Akka, what happened?” he asked again, gently moving her hands away from her face. She looked at him, her weariness filling her face. She smiled instead, partly swallowing, before saying, “You got your wish, Thambi.”

“My wish? What are you saying, Akka?”

“Marry whoever you want, Thambi. Any Princess, any boat girl, anyone,” she whispered, defeated. “I cannot see the dream I had for you come true, so what is the point?”

“Akka, I am still your Thambi. I still listen to you.”

He sounded frantic, and Kundavai turned to look at him, gently patting his cheek. 

“Thambi, we will still establish the Empire we wish for, we will do all of our joint dreams, but my desire of seeing Vanathi next to you is all for naught.”

Another tear slipped down her cheek, and she hastily wiped it away. 

“What are you saying, Akka? Has Vanathi decided that she does not want to marry me, after all?”

Was Kundavai imagining it, or was her brother sounding disappointed. She peeked at his face, which while holding neutrality, showed tinges of discomfort, his eyes holding an indescribable emotion. What Kundavai read on his face gave her sudden hope, and she had to pause, to pray to Parameshvara that all will be well. 

“Her love for you is as pure and true as it always has been,” Kundavai said. “She has just decided to sacrifice her right to the throne of our Empire if she marries you.”

Arulmozhi had gone completely silent, but the widening of his eyes gave Kundavai her answer. She continued, partially ruthless with her words, needing her brother to understand what she wanted to drive home. 

“I tell you, I Swear, with the goddesses of the sky and earth as witnesses, that if Ponniyin Selvar comes through this crisis alive, if he comes forward of his own free will and takes my hand in marriage - even if I’m granted so great a reward, I swear I will never sit on the throne in the Thanjai palace. I swear this! I swear!"

Kundavai recited Vanathi’s oath verbatim, every word like molten lead to her ears. She lifted her eyes to meet her brother’s, shock running through her when she saw tears running down his golden cheeks. 

“Thambi…”

Arulmozhi hugged Kundavai, crying his heart out on her shoulder, moved by the oath, as Kundavai too cried, knowing that things had become complicated in an unanticipated way, and not seeing a way out of this. 

-------------------------------------------------------

Should I continue this as a multiple chapter story? If yes, do any of you have suggestions?

@vibishalakshman @dumdaradumdaradum @thelekhikawrites @rang-lo @kovaipaavai

[ceoofhelaegon]

https://www.reddit.com/r/HouseOfTheDragon/comments/15la2zx/aegon_is_the_first_targaryen_with_a_natural/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android_app&utm_name=androidcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=2

Most of the comments in this post are like "No! Aegon has no problem with doing incest, it’s just he is not attracted to Helaena"

Bitch you better be joe king! A 14 y/o not wanting to marry his sister has nothing to do with him not attracting to her and I think Aegon ignoring Helaena is related to his self worth issues because he's so afraid of rejection that he rejected her first. I seriously don’t get it why people want Aegon to not attracted to Helaena.

I don’t think they're like some huge love story or something but i think they definitely have feelings for each other like they crave for each others affection in more than a platonic way but Aegon is in denial because he doesn’t feel worthy of Helaena and also Helaena is a delicate part of Alicent his mother from whom he felt first rejection in his life and deep down he's afraid that Helaena will reject him too so he's just isolated himself from her. On the other hand Helaena is confused why Aegon ignores her, she wants to be close to him, wants him to be a part of her life but he's so afraid that he's not giving her any chance so she thinks that it’s just normal if a husband ignores his wife and she accepted it.

I mean their feelings for each other are so complicated like do they feel trapped in this marriage? Yes, do they love each other? Fuck Yes! and it’s not like some average forbidden love kind of incest, it’s so different than that and it’s what make helaegon interesting but some weird people really think that their relationship is like some average westerosi political marriage😮‍💨

Hey the same anon who send that reddit link a while ago I'm so sorry i shouldn’t have called people weird just because they can't see what i see so i take back that word lol but helaegon marriage is more than an average westerosi political marriage that those people want to believe and no one can change my mind

It's funny because they are the same people that say we are the ones that hate Helaena but go out of their way to erase Helaena or paint her this way. Even if you don't ship helaegon is very dishonest to say that they have no feelings for each other.

Whether they like it or not, Aegon and Helaena were fucking at least twice. They had twins, they didn't need to have Maelor but they did. Aegon is attracted to her, no matter how much they want to erase Helaena from his arc.

Aegon never mentioned that Helaena was ugly, he said verbatim "we have nothing in common". How can you hear that and say: "he doesn't find her attractive". Did you even listened to what he said? You don't need to have things in common to people to find them attractive.

Couldn't relate to the people that want a boring relationship for helaegon, or even wanting Helaena to suffer in his hands instead of wanting something complicated.

[witchofanguish]

This is me, and I’m not trying to be confusing, but the above paragraph that I’m cutting into now is verbatim Morgenstern; he was continually referring to his wife in the unabridged book, saying that she loved the next section or she thought that, all in all, the book was extraordinarily brilliant. Mrs. Morgenstern was rarely anything but supportive to her husband, unlike some wives I could mention (sorry about that, Helen), but here’s the thing: I got rid of almost all the intrusions when he told us what she thought. I didn’t think the device added a whole lot, and, besides, he was always complimenting himself through her and today we know that hyping something too much does more harm than good, as any defeated political candidate will tell you when he pays his television bills. The thing of it is, I left this particular reference in because, for once, I totally happen to agree with Mrs. Morgenstern. I think it was unfair not to show the reunion. So I wrote one of my own, what I felt Buttercup and Westley might have said, but Hiram, my editor, felt that made me just as unfair as Morgenstern here. If you’re going to abridge a book in the author’s own words, you can’t go around sticking your own in. That was Hiram’s point, and we really went round and round, arguing over, I guess, a period of a month, in person, through letters, on the phone. Finally we compromised to this extent: this, what you’re reading in the regular type, is strict Morgenstern. Verbatim. Cut, yes; changed, no. But I got Hiram to agree that Harcourt would at least print up my scene—Ballantine has agreed to do the same—it’s all of three pages; big deal—and if any of you want to see what it came out like, drop a note or a postcard to Urban del Rey at Ballantine Books, 201 East 50th Street, New York City, and just mention you’d like the reunion scene. Don’t forget to include your return address; you’d be stunned at how many people send in for things and don’t put their return address down. The publishers agreed to spring for the postage costs, so your total expense is the note or card or whatever. It would really upset me if I turned out to be the only modern American writer who gave the impression that he was with a generous publishing house (they all stink—sorry about that, Mr. Jovanovich), so let me just add here that the reason they are so generous in paying this giant postage bill is because they fully expect nobody to write in. So please, if you have the least interest at all or even if you don’t, write in for my reunion scene. You don’t have to read it—I’m not asking that— but I would love to cost those publishing geniuses a few dollars, because, let’s face it, they’re not spending much on advertising my books. Let me just repeat the address for you, ZIP code and all:

Urban del Rey Ballantine Books 201 East 50th Street New York, New York 10022

and just ask for your copy of the reunion scene. This has gone on longer than I planned, so I’m going to repeat the Morgenstern paragraph I interrupted; it’ll read better. Over and out.

[theapangea]

Night Out

Chapter: Girls Night Out Pt.2

Pairing/Characters: Steve Harrington x Reader, Nancy, Jonathan, Jason Carver

Summary: You and Steve have been dancing around each other for sometime now, neither of you wanting to make the first move. All your friends decide it is finally time for you both to confess your feelings.

A/N: So sorry I have been mia lately, just some super crazy personal stuff came up. I think I'm finally getting my Inso back to write. I hope you enjoy this chapter and finally some drama happens yay!!!

Also please know that my replies aren't working.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

It was pretty anticlimactic when you finally arrived at the Wheeler house. Steve, nor any of the boys were anywhere to be found. 

All the hard work that you and Nancy put into making the perfect plan. Something along the lines of you and Steve being magically locked out of the house and forced to talk, professing your undying love for each other. The ‘undying love’ part was definitely Nancy’s contribution, making you wish that’s how it actually ends. 

Nancy’s Dad grumbled something about them heading out on some “grand adventure”. The air quotes indicating that he was speaking verbatim. Probably quoting something that Dustin said, that sappy line definitely a dead giveaway. 

Smiling to yourself on how he would do anything to get you on a date. Only understanding now that most of those times were signaling you to go out with Steve. The tingling feeling of a giggle holding onto your lips as the faint memory fades.

And as much as you tried to fight off the sheer thought of Steve while you were getting ready. Everything you did and every word you spoke reminded you of him. The way he compliments the sparkly pink lip gloss you wear or the way you’d tell a story about some customer that he originally told you. The way his hair falls in front of his face while he laughs, putting his whole body into something funny. 

He was constantly on your mind. Finally realizing how much he has influenced your whole life. He wasn’t just some goofy coworker but a friend who’d you see every single day of the week. Even when you didn’t always want to. Making your day better by a large margin.

Don’t think about Steve.

Don’t think about Steve.

Don’t think about Steve.

Reminding yourself over and over again.

And the whole time you were trying to forget Steve while getting ready, he was still at the forefront of your mind. The shining star in this crazy darkness that is this night.

The butterflies are swarming in your stomach as you slump into the backseat of Jonathan’s car. Begging any god that will listen to let you sink into the folds, disappearing before you get to the party. But sadly there is no answer as Jonathan pulls off the road. 

Jason’s house was a typical middle American suburban house. Not too small and not too flashy. The music noticeably shaking the house from the outside. 

Sluggishly following behind Nancy and Jonathan. Their hands tangled around others. Your heart strings pulling, the instant thought of Steve and the way his hand would feel in yours. 

Don’t think about Steve.

It feels like the whole senior class is shoved into Jason’s house. The dancing, singing, shouting filling your ears as you enter the house. Passing by people making out, grinding on each other and giving/receiving body shots.

Don’t think about Steve.

You follow the only couple that isn’t all over each other, maybe Nancy felt like she couldn’t be intimate with Jonathan for your own sake. Nancy hands you a red solo cup full of some clear liquid. Flashing her a quick smile before bringing the cup to your lips and taking a sip. The liquid instant coating your mouth and throat. The burn sends goosebumps through your body. 

After a couple of minutes, the liquid took effect and you didn’t even care to think about what’s-his-name. Allowing yourself to let the butterflies free, letting the alcohol carry you into freedom. 

Rough hands snake around your waist while a hard chest hits upon your back. Looking up to see the blonde playboy by your side. 

“Hey you.” You giggle, the alcohol clearly doing its job. Swirling around in your veins and head.

“You wanna go somewhere quieter?” He says just loud enough for you to hear him over the speakers.

Shaking your head yes before chugging the rest of your drink. Placing the empty solo cup on the counter as you turn around to grab his hand. Allowing him to take the lead. Signaling to Nancy that you were heading in that direction with Jason.

A thumbs up shooting back from her.

Pushing your way through the crowded people, his hand squeezing yours, keeping you close. Leading you towards the back of the house, passing several closed doors before slipping into one of the vacant rooms. 

It is clearly Jason’s room. Your eyes gaze upon the blue walls lined with dozens of trophies. Making your way to the bed in the middle of the room, taking a seat as Jason locks the door. 

It is almost like a dream, your mind happy it isn’t fully present because if it was it would definitely be thinking about Steve. And the way his shirt rises when he’s pulling a movie away on the top shelf, showing a little bit of his tummy. Or the way his jeans hug his thighs, not leaving anything to the imagination.

Don’t think about Steve.

Jason clears his throat, “I’m really happy you came tonight.” His thumbs hooked into his belt loops as he makes his way over to you.

You hum in response. Desperately wish it was Steve standing in front of you.

Don’t think about Steve.

“Something on your mind?” He questions, the bed sinking next to you finally pulling you from your thoughts, pulling you from Steve.

“You can say that.” You try to play it off, forcing a smile.

“Well I think of a way to clear it.” He whispers, closing the space that separates the two of you.

His lips capturing yours, dominating the intimate moment. Sloppy and too much tongue is all you can think. The kiss is no longer what you want but you don’t stop yourself, you don’t stop him. 

Gently pushing you onto the bed as your hands grasp the fabric of his shirt. 

Don’t think about Steve.

Don’t think about Steve.

Steve.

It has always been Steve.

All the years you tried to push this feeling down and here you are tongue deep in Jason Carver wishing that it was Steve. 

Pushing him off rather aggressively, “I don’t want to…”

“Come on.” He begs, “You come here looking this hot and I can’t even get any?”

“I'm just not in the mood.” Shifting yourself away from him, exiting from under his body.

He scoffs, “You were like a second ago.”

“But not now, not anymore.” You roll your eyes, pulling your jacket back on.

“So we’re really not doing this.” 

“No.” You are firm in your words, “We’re really not doing this.”

Jason tilting his head back as you can tell her is clearly annoyed. But you didn’t care, you wanted to get out of this room, of this house, away from this party. 

Steve .

You want to find Steve.

Stepping out of the room, straightening your clothes and hair as you feel an arm rest on your shoulders. Noticing Jason is standing unusually close. 

Finally lifting your head to see Steve staring back at you at the end of the hallway. His once open mouth shuts, nodding his head as he makes sense of the situation. Turning on his heels and getting lost within the crowd.

~~~

let me know what you think!! love you so much for support me <3!!

Tags: @orphic-musings @shireentapestry @lifecanbehardbutyouarestrong @ash5monster01 @johnricharddeacy@artsyfartsytheaterkid @kennedy-brooke@graciehams

Only 1 more part. Let me know if you wanna be tagged.

[r-osehips]

And now is when I must posit a question that has been weighing on me greatly: Is it possible we’re wrong about Lottie being the Antler Queen? We deduced as much after she was framed by antlers in a shot in season one and then later actually donned a crown made from them. But is this genuine confirmation? Could our real Antler Queen be Shauna? Something about the way the Antler Queen gestures for the others to eat the flesh in the show’s pilot does echo the way Shauna grants permission to feast on Jackie in “Edible Complex.” Could Lottie’s ascension to a cult leader in her adulthood not be an attempt to reclaim the position she had in the woods but rather a position that she was denied and feels she is owed? Or is Lottie indeed the Antler Queen and Shauna is something like her war general? After all, we don’t see the Antler Queen do any of the hunting or slaying herself; it’s easy to assume Shauna’s holding the knife when a girl’s throat is slashed to drain her blood in the pilot. Adult Lottie, on the surface, seems more nefarious than Adult Shauna, but doesn’t that hinge on the exact assumptions I’m talking about when I say these dangerous men in the chop shop don’t see Shauna as just as dangerous as them? Shauna might not have an army of followers, but she’s like a sleeper agent, performing a boring by-the-numbers life while harboring a hunger for violence, for murder! This monologue makes her sound extremely hungry for murder! She would never cry over dead bees like Lottie.

[…] A common narrative about serial killers is that they can often live very normal lives, with spouses, kids, quaint little homes tucked into quiet neighborhoods. And they can often go through long stretches of not killing, too. How many people has Shauna killed? The way she talks here, I think it’s much more than just Adam. I think stabbing Adam, which she also did so easily and without any remorse despite having a long sexual affair with him, reanimated something dormant in her. I don’t think Shauna has been secretly serial killing for the past 25 years, but I do think she has killed more than we think and isn’t just capable of violence but actively courts it.

And that brings me back to a subtle but ultimately very meaningful parallel I noticed between the two Shaunas in this episode. Remember those bolded words from above that Shauna says to Jeff? She said she liked the affair with Adam, because she felt like she didn’t know what was going to happen. Later, Teen Shauna says the following to Lottie in the cabin, still reckoning with the Jackie feast from the night before and clearly rattled by it:

“I’m scared, Lottie. Everything just feels out of control, like I don’t know what’s gonna happen next. What if I—”

Lottie interrupts her to say she won’t hurt the baby. And there’s a lot packed into this short conversation between them, so it’d be easy to miss this echoing of words, especially since it’s not perfectly verbatim. But this can’t be a coincidence, right? Teen Shauna is terrified by the prospect of not knowing what’s going to happen next. But as an adult, Shauna craves that uncertainty. Her fear has alchemized into desire. The Shaunas express these sentiments in different contexts, and Sophie Nélisse and Melanie Lynskey imbue the words with tonally disparate emotions, but it feels very significant in both moments. What if Shauna’s response to feeling out of control is ultimately to embrace it? To flirt with chaos the way we see her do as an adult? Sometimes the only way to conquer what we’re scared of is to turn it into something pleasurable, as fucked-up as that can sometimes feel. Teen Shauna and Adult Shauna both have talked about feeling fucked-up this season, Adult Shauna in the premiere and Teen Shauna here in “Digestif.”

I do doubt Adult Taissa and Adult Nat would be so trusting of Adult Shauna the way they are in season one if she had been some sadistic ruler in the wilderness, but I also think Shauna is sometimes good at pinning things on others, the way she convinced the group to isolate Jackie from the cabin even though she was the one who had so greatly betrayed Jackie. It’s possible she could have done worse in the woods but been able to scapegoat Lottie or otherwise manipulate those around her. Shauna’s not good at lying, but she does have a tendency to get away with shit. And this moment in the chop shop makes it clear that violence isn’t just a means to an end for her; it’s something that actively excites her.

-Kayla Kumari Upadhyaya in the Autostraddle recap of Yellowjackets 2x03, “Digestif”