#this is why shes absent in the current event

[emotsper]

hoptal

[merlot-and-chardonnay]

Quality Father-Son Time

Aegon II Targaryen x Targaryen!reader (Daughter of Rhaenyra) x Aemond Targaryen

YAY!!! I get to do ANOTHER drabble based on the works of @maidragoste and the series The Queen and Her Husbands. (thanks so much, hun :))

I had to write this after seeing the season premier and seeing Aegon spend time with little Jaehaerys (before that one scene I won't get into because it made it all the more tragic and upsetting).

*Also go support the original writer of this series.

Summary: Aegon is woken up early in the morning by his son so they can go dragon riding for the day.

Content Warnings: Allusions to Blood and Cheese, and some residual trauma from losing a child/children. Also some brief suggestive content with reader and Aemond (because I couldn't help myself and had a feeling the reader would take this moment to spend time with her first husband while her second husband is busy bonding with his son)

It was early in the morning. The sun hadn't even begin to make its daily ascent into the sky, and most of the Red Keep was still abed, including the king and queen as well as their children.

Well...almost all the children.

There was one little soul up already, dressed and eager to get the day started.

Daeron eagerly scampers into his parents' bedroom. "Kepa! Kepa! Wake up, we have to go!"

You and Aegon were soundly asleep, slowly being woken up by Daeron nudging the bed, trying to get his father up and going. Aemond wasn't there as he was currently in Oldtown resolving matters over there, though he was due to return sometime today.

"Kepa. Kepa!" Daeron starts whining.

"Your son is awake, husband," you mutter in your sleepy state. Aegon just groans a bit and turns over putting an arm around you, "before sunrise he is YOUR son," he mutters with the intent of going back to sleep.

"Kepa! KEPA!" Daeron starts pulling on the blankets but ended up falling backwards in his zeal. Finally having enough, Daeron pounced on his father, "Kepa, you promised!" Aegon was effectively roused from sleep, opening his eyes to see the stern look on his son's face.

Aegon knew already what the boy was talking about, "Alright, Daeron, alright. I'm up, I'm up," he sleepily assures turning on his back and rubbing his eyes. "Yeah!" Daeron exclaims with glee, climbing off the bed.

Right on cue, a couple nursemaids walked in through the open door. "Prince Daeron," the older maid exclaims, before hastily bowing, realizing the king was already up "oh forgive us, your Grace," she hastily apologizes, "the prince just ran off without notice we didn't-" "It's quite alright," Aegon assures, stretching a bit, "the young prince wished to start the day. Up before the sun it seems." "Yes, your Grace."

"Daeron, you go and break your fast. I'll join you in a moment," Aegon says, patting Daeron on the head before the boy scampered off out the room. "See to it that he actually does get some food in his belly," Aegon orders the maids. "Of course, your Grace," the maids quickly bow and go follow Daeron to the kitchens.

"What exactly did you promise Daeron that he must ruin our peaceful morning so early?" you ask, eyes still closed as Aegon leaves the bed to gather his clothes for the day. "I told him I would take him flying on Sunfyre," he tells you as he starts to dress, "We've had a busy week, and haven't had the time. I told Daeron if he was patient and on his best behavior I would take him flying. He made good on his promise. Now I must make good on mine."

"The reward of dragon flying was surely a great motivator," you say, turning a bit in the bed, "I wonder why Daeron was extra considerate this week."

Aegon chuckled at that statement, having finished putting on the rest of his riding ensemble. "Don't forget we have afternoon tea later today," you tell him, "Jaehaera has spent all week organizing this little event, and it would break her heart if her father was absent for it." "I wouldn't miss it for the world," Aegon assures, "We'll be back before then," he leans into the bed and pressed a kiss on your temple, "give my regards to Aemond should he return before Daeron and I do."

"Of course," you nod, slowing going back to sleep for a couple more hours before you start your own day.

After a quick light meal to break their fast, Aegon and Daeron walked to the wheelhouse which had been set up surprisingly fast for the king and his son. "Hurry, Kepa, hurry!" Daeron insists as he tries to jump in, only to tumble back from the steps. Lucky for him, Aegon was quick to catch his son, "whoa, slow down, boy," Aegon light scolds, getting Daeron in, "there's no rush, the dragons won't be going anywhere without us."

"I can't help it, Kepa," Daeron says, "I just really want to go flying, I've been waiting all week." "I know you have," Aegon says with a smile as he lifts Daeron and sets him on his knee as he takes a seat in the wheelhouse, "that's why you've been so good this week. Haven't been up to any mischief, yes?" He boops his son on the nose, making Daeron giggle in response, Aegon giggling back. As happy an occasion this was, Aegon found his mind starting to linger on more melancholy thoughts, though he wouldn't show it for the sake of his child.

It was moments like these that would make Aegon think of similar moments he had with Jaehaerys. How he would hold the boy in a similar position as Daeron whenever they made trips to the dragon pit to go riding on Sunfyre. Aegon tried not to think about those times, as the loss of his past children was still not something he has fully gotten over, and likely never will. Even if he will still get upset about it at times, he'll choose to think about the children he has who are still healthy and alive.

"Can we have Sunfyre do tricks in the air while flying?" Daeron asks, bringing Aegon out of his thoughts, "I don't think that's such a good idea, Daeron," Aegon tells him, "we can get him to breathe fire while flying, that might be better." "Okay, Kepa," Daeron nods.

Before either of them knew it, the wheelhouse had stop. They had made it to the dragon pit.

Daeron was first to jump out, eagerly running towards the pit, with Aegon trailing not far behind. The dragon keepers greet both the king and prince as they walk inside.

Daeron practically sprints towards Sunfyre the moment he catches site of the golden dragon. "Hold on, son," Aegon calls out, placing a hand on Sunfyre's snout the moment the dragon lowers his head towards his rider. Aegon smiles. Though Sunfyre still bore the scars from past battles waged before Daeron was born, the dragon was still a beauty to behold.

"Kepa, come on! Let's go flying." "Alright, alright," Aegon concedes, helping his son up onto the saddle before mounting the beast himself. Once Sunfyre was out of the dragon pit, Aegon gave the command and they were soon flying.

Daeron had a wide grin on his face the whole time during the take off. Aegon couldn't help but grin himself, seeing how excited his son was to be doing this with his father.

------meanwhile-------

You had decided to properly wake up and begin your day. Daeron excluded, the rest of your children were probably still sleeping. The maids would wake them soon so as to have them break their fast and start their morning lessons.

You half expected to for food to be set up on the table already for yourself. It was, but to your surprise you heard splashing sounds in the water closet. You frown a bit, having not expected Aegon to return so soon.

You take a peak inside and to your shock and amazement, it was your OTHER husband who had just settled into the copper tub, steam rising from it.

"Aemond!" you exclaim, getting the prince's attention. You run over, kneeling at the side of the tub so as to give your husband a kiss. "I though you weren't to return till later in the day," you tell him, "much later." "We finished early," Aemond admits, "I...I didn't wish to wait to return to see my family again." "I missed you too, Aemond," you give him another kiss, "We all missed you." "If that is so, where is my brother?"

"He took Daeron dragon riding today," was your answer, "I thought you would've run into the two of them while you were riding back on Vhagar." "Hmm, it appears we missed each other," Aemond says, slight smirk on his face, "although, that would give the two of us time to each other." "...I suppose so," you say with a smirk of your own, "the children will be waking soon, though, and I know our sons will be eager especially to see their father back in the Holdfast. Not to mention we have Jaehaera's afternoon tea later in the day." "Well then," Aemond turns your way, a wicked look in his eye, "we best make this a quick one, wouldn't you say, dear wife?"

----------meanwhile-------------------

"Watch me Kepa!" Daeron gleefully says, taking both his hands off the saddle and stretching his arms to sides to feel the wind rush as Sunfyre flew a little higher.

Aegon instinctively holds onto his son, fear lingering in the back of his mind that Daeron could fall, even though the boy was well secured to the saddle.

Nothing was going to happen, Aegon keeps mentally saying to himself. Nothing is going to happen. Daeron is not Jaehaerys, nor is he Maelor or Daenera. They may be gone but his son was still alive in the present. And Seven willing, it was going to stay that way even after Aegon and his wife and brother have long passed from this world.

Aegon started thinking back to when he and his wife started taking Daeron to Small Council meetings as a baby shortly after the death of his twin, how you and him were scared that something terrible was going to happen to your child if you took your eyes off him for even a second. Those were admittedly trying times, more so for Aegon, and even though you and your husband had managed to heal from the loss, the fear that something like that could happen again still lingered in the back of the king's mind every now and then.

It got a little easier as time went on. NEVER easy, but a little more bearable.

Seeing how high they were in the sky in the present, Aegon took this time to bond some more with his son, taking this time to say the things he never got to say with Jaehaerys, "see all that before you, Daeron?" he asks, to which Daeron nods in response.

"All this: King's Landing, the Crownlands, the Riverlands, Stormlands, the Reach, the North...the whole of the Seven Kingdoms. One day it will all be yours to rule the day you sit the Iron Throne." "When will that happen, Kepa?" Daeron asks, looking at his father with curiosity.

Aegon took some time to put his words together before he made his answer, "look to the sun," he nods in the direction the sun was currently in, "a king's time as ruler is like the sun. It rises, and then it falls. One day, Daeron, the sun will set on my time. BUT it will rise again, with YOU as the new king."

"And all this will be mine?" Aegon nods in response, "it will. But it will be some time before then. You still have much to learn. But, we shall not worry over such things today."

The two continue their flight. Aegon looks to the sun to see it was almost high noon. They would need to land soon so as to make it back to the Red Keep and prepare themselves in time for Jaehaera's tea party.

Aegon directs Sunfyre back to the Dragon pit. Daeron was a little sullen having to end their flight time so soon, but Aegon picks Daeron up and carried the boy back to the wheelhouse, assuring him there will be loads of times to go flying again. And, when Daeron is a little older, he would have ample opportunities to fly his own dragon without his father's supervision.

By the time Aegon and Daeron returned to the Red Keep and bathed and dressed in new clothes, the afternoon tea had already been set up in the gardens. Jaehaera was leading the social event. Among her guests were her cousins and siblings as well as her stepmother, her grandmother, and her uncle Aemond as well as your little brother Aegon the Younger.

Egg, it should be noted, had a look of admiration as Jaehaera directed the servants to pour the tea and serve the finger foods.

Jaehaera had the biggest smile on her own face when she saw her father Aegon and Daeron join them at the table. "Perfect timing, husband," you say with approval as the tea was served, "I trust the two of you had a good outing."

"It was good," Aegon assures, placing Daeron in his chair, patting him on the head before greeting the rest of the children, giving Jaehaera a kiss on the head, and welcoming his brother back after his trip from Oldtown.

Taking a seat, Aegon gazed at the whole of his family as they sipped their tea and exchanged pleasantries with one another.

This was his family, he thinks to himself, small smile on his face. They were here, alive, happy, and healthy. Seven willing, it will stay that way, even as their family continues to grow. Seven willing, there will be more happy times like this ahead in the near future, more enough to eclipse the sad times of the past.

[dreaming-medium]

Stray Kids Kinktober Day 6

Stray Kids Kinktober Masterlist

Frottage - Bang Chan

Word Count: 8.8k

Summary: Being an award winning actress isn’t as easy as some might think. Award shows themself are one of the more difficult events to tackle. But luckily, during this ceremony, you get to meet some of your favorite idols, and they get to meet their favorite actress.

—————————————————————

“And after the awards ceremony there’s an after party at The Plaza.” Your agent’s voice is strictly business in the back of the limousine. 

You’re playing with the fabric of your gown while absentmindedly listening to her. 

“Do I have to be on set tomorrow?”

“Yes, your call is at 9:00 AM. Transportation will be at your hotel at 7:30.”

You groan and look up at the ceiling. “Why do they always put these award shows on weekdays?”

“Your weekends aren’t exactly free anymore, either.” 

Yes, you’re aware. 

The life of an actress was not easy. Especially an award winning one. Right now, you are the hot, new, up-and-coming actress that everyone has their eye on. The actress that every director wants in their movie, their TV show, their commercials– everything.

Currently, you’re in the middle of filming a TV show that has a high fantasy aesthetic to it. You’re the main role in the show, the main badass warrior that everyone roots for. The kind of character that has a million and thirty Tik Tok edits of her.

It’s one of those shows where your character is constantly going through the wringer. The amount of bruises that you have to sport on camera increases each day; real and fake. 

Your nerves begin to creep up on you the closer you get to the award venue. 

Red carpets were one of the hardest parts of the job. Memorizing lines? Easy. Learning blocking and fight choreo? You do that every day. 

Talk to strangers and pose for pictures? No, thank you. 

Who were you wearing again?

“This dress is Gucci, right?”

“No, it’s Christian Siriano. I’m glad you asked. Your jewelry is Gucci and your shoes are Prada.”

You stare at your agent blankly, she hasn’t looked up from her tablet once. You were not made for this part of the job.

“Jesus…” you sigh and lean back into the cushioned seat. 

“While we’re at it, do you even know what award you’re up for?”

“Outstanding Lead Actress in a Drama Series, right?”

“And?”

“And?” you repeat incredulously. “I thought I was only up for one!”

Finally, your agent looks up with a smirk. “Trick question, you passed. Proud of you.”

You can’t help but laugh and look out the window. “You know I’m nervous as all hell, don’t test me.”

“Don’t be nervous. I’m sure you have this in the bag.”

“That’s exactly what I’m nervous about. I have to get up, walk up those stairs in these Gucci—“

“Prada.”

“Prada shoes. And then make an acceptance speech in front of everyone. Millions of people. No pressure.”

She laughs and looks down at her tablet again. “You’re very charming and everyone loves you, you can talk the paint off a wall, Y/N, just be yourself.”

Grumbling, you cross your arms over your chest. But you can’t sit still in that position for too long at all. You’re too fidgety. 

In front of you, there’s a chilled bottle of champagne. You pour it into one of the flutes and sip it entirely too fast for the quality of the drink. ‘Sip’ is putting it gently, you down it. 

A second glass is poured, but you choose to hold that one in your hand tightly. Absent-mindedly, you swirl the champagne around, watching the bubbles form and pop up at the top. 

A few moments of silence pass, you begin to mutter to yourself to ease the stress. “Christian Siriano dress, Gucci jewelry, Prada shoes. Christian Siriano dress, Gucci jewelry, Prada shoes..”

The crowd starts getting louder the closer you get to the event. Cameras are already flashing outside your limousine. 

“I haven’t even told you who’s going to be there.”

Your agent sounds extremely smug all of a sudden. When you look over at her, there’s a cocky smirk on her face. 

“Who?” With that look, you’re not even sure that you want to know the answer. 

“Maybe put the drink down before I tell you. Wouldn’t want you to spill it on your…”

“Christian Siriano.”

“Christian Siriano dress.”

After downing the contents once more, you put the glass down. 

“Okay, who?”

Her smile grows even wider. “You know Stray Kids, right?”

Your face pales, even under all that makeup all the color drains from your skin. 

“They’re going to be there?”

She knows, she knows you’ve been a fan for a while. You were a Stay before fame came your way. 

Your agent smiles and nods, the light from her tablet illuminating her face. 

“Don’t play with me,” your voice is strained. “That’s mean.”

You’ve been keeping your admiration of them on the down low for so long. Now that you’re in the public eye, you have to be very low key about things. 

It was killing you. 

“They did a soundtrack song for a show, it’s up for an award.”

You were nervous before. Now you’re downright hysterical. 

“They’re going to be there? All eight of them?”

“To my knowledge, yes.”

The limousine comes to a gradual stop. The screams outside are deafening, even through the car doors. 

“Will I see them?” You ask, gathering your skirt up to try and assist with a graceful exit out of the limo. 

“Probably!” There’s a little hint to her voice that you can’t quite put your finger on. What is she doing? What does she know? 

The driver comes around the limousine and you take a deep breath, activating your celebrity face. 

It’s never hard for you to muster a genuine smile. You’re humble about your life, you know how lucky you are. Thinking about how far you’ve come is all the motivation you need to let the corners of your lips perk up.

“Ready?” Your agent asks.

“Yes, ma’am!”

The door opens and the roar of the crowd goes insane. You’re practically blinded by the flashes of the cameras. 

You do your very best to keep a level head and follow the instructions of the security team around you. 

In the meantime, as you walk into the venue, you turn and smile at the fans behind the barricades. 

Sending them hand hearts, waving enthusiastically back at them. You look up at your head security guard.

“Can I please go sign a few autographs?”

He looks down at you, obviously annoyed. But annoyed in the fatherly way. Just by the look on his face, you knew he was going to say yes. 

You quickly pick up your skirt and walk over to the barricade. The screams get louder and louder the closer you get. 

“Hi! Hi!” You greet all the fans as they scream for you. So many different objects are thrust over the fence for you to sign. 

You grab a marker and begin leaving your signature over everything in sight: posters, shirts, books. 

Several selfies are taken with you. Every single fan is so sweet and kind that you can’t help but spend extra time with them. 

They reach out and grab your hands, you hold them back and have conversations with them. 

You always do this. It’s something you’re very well known for. 

“Miss Y/N.” your security guard says gruffly behind you. 

“Okay, okay. I gotta go, guys. It was so nice meeting you, and it was nice seeing you again!” You point to a fan that you recognized from a convention you attended a few months ago. 

After blowing a few more kisses, you leave the barricade and head towards the red carpet. 

If it was up to you, you would’ve stood there and talked with your fans all day and never gone into the awards ceremony. They’re the reason you’re here, after all. 

Walking along the carpet, you plaster a smile on your face and wave to all the photographers. You stand still right in the middle of the space and strike several different practiced poses. 

You make sure to look in all different directions and show off the dress hugging your body beautifully. 

It’s a dark yellow gown with huge puffed sleeves that sit off your shoulders. The center of the gown dips down to show off your cleavage. The rest of the skirt poofs out in a princess style. 

It’s absolutely gorgeous. Crafted to show off your body in the best way.

All the photographers call out your name, all of them trying to get your attention. 

You wave to several that you recognize and say hello to others. 

Your short minutes on the red carpet run out and you quickly make your way across to the other side to link arms with your agent. 

She pats your arm, “Great job! Now for the hard part.”

On the other side of the red carpet there are several different magazines, websites, and other fashion sources lined up with interviewers stationed in front of cameras. 

“I studied for this, remember?” you tease her and hug her arm closer before letting go. 

The first interview you do is with Vogue, they had grabbed your attention so fast you almost got whiplash. 

How’s the show? Who are you wearing? Are you nervous about tonight?

These are all questions you prepared for.  

Next interview was with Vanity Fair. You had recognized the interviewer, so you approached her first. 

“Y/N!” Her face lights up when she sees you.

“Hi!” you answer just as cheerfully, wrapping her in a big hug and then holding her out at arms length. “How have you been?”

“So good, you?”

“Can’t complain– busy. I’m so glad to see you!”

“Me too! Do you have time for an interview?” She asks hopefully. 

“I always have time for you.”

She says thank you and her camera man gets into place. A second microphone is handed to you. Before you can blink, she’s in interview mode. 

You smile and listen to her introduction.

“I am here with, Y/N L/N, star of the Emmy award winning show, Kings and Pirates. How are you doing tonight, Y/N?”

You lift the microphone up to your mouth and speak into it happily. “I’m doing great, thank you! Always a pleasure to be talking with you on the red carpet.”

“You flatter me, Y/N! Now tell us the obvious question here: Who are you wearing?”

“I am wearing an original Christian Siriano dress, Gucci jewelry, and Prada shoes.”

“The entire outfit is beautiful! An amazing dress to hopefully show off when you win Best Actress tonight…?”

You laugh humbly. “I don’t know, there are so many amazing actresses nominated tonight. A girl can hope, but when I see the other names around mine, I can’t help but be anxious.”

The interviewer opens her mouth to ask another question, but the crowd absolutely erupts in cheers. Louder than when you got out of your limo, louder than some concerts you’ve attended. 

“Oh my god, I think someone important just showed up.” You joked into the microphone. 

Both you and the interviewer are looking across the carpet, craning your necks to see if you can get a glimpse of whoever just stepped out. 

“Minho! Hyunjin! Felix!” Crowd members scream out several names and your heart rate skyrockets. 

“Oh my god, it’s Stray Kids.” You accidentally say into the mic. 

“Oh wow! Are you a Stay?” She asks you. Your head whips around and a dark blush covers your cheeks. 

Laughing nervously, you look down at the ground, suddenly sheepish. “Ah… well, yeah. I’ve been a fan of theirs for years now.”

“Did you know they were going to be here tonight?”

“I was told it was a possibility, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”

Joke after joke makes the interviewer and her cameraman laugh. 

The interview continues without a hitch. But the entire time all you want to do is turn around  and see if you can catch a glimpse of Stray Kids. 

Yes, you’re famous. But you’re just a Stay at heart. 

You say your goodbyes with the interviewer and turn to move onto the next one. 

A gasp catches in your throat as soon as you step away. 

All eight of them are right there, doing their own interview with Buzzfeed. They’re smiling and laughing about something. 

You’re just able to stare. They’re right there. You’ve never been in the same space as them. 

Act professional, Y/N! Stop acting like a fangirl, you’re literally on the clock right now!

Their laughter is contagious and you find yourself smiling as you turn away and walk to another interviewer trying to flag you down. 

“… excited to maybe meet tonight? You guys are usually at music award shows, so this is definitely new for you! There’s some new faces that you probably have never seen before.”

“We actually were just talking about this on the ride over,” Chan says to the interviewer, ever the front man. “We’re all huge fans of Kings and Pirates, we watch it together every week when new episodes come out. We joked that it would be an amazing opportunity to say hi to Y/N L/N.”

It’s like the red carpet is pulled right out from underneath your feet. 

“But that would be like trying to get a private conversation with royalty, you know?”

You? They want to meet you? They watch your show? Every week? Together? 

“I think I just saw her around…” the interviewer trails off, by her tone you can tell she’s looking around for you. 

Act casual, Y/N. Pretend like you weren’t listening to every word of their interview closely. Act normal for once in your life.

“Ah, no way.” Chan’s thick accent reaches your ears. He sounds so shy by his tone. Several other members murmur and tease one another. 

“Oh, there she is! Y/N!” The interviewer grabs your attention— she technically already had it. 

The members begin to get louder when you turn your head to look at the entire group of them staring at you. 

When your eyes meet all of theirs, each of them freeze like a deer in headlights. Do they even know who they are?

You can’t tell if you’ve gone sheet white or bright red. Your heart is beating so fast it might explode. 

The interviewer waves you over, you look over at the other one you were walking to and hold up a finger to say ‘one moment’ before walking over to the large group of them. 

“Hi, hi!” You cheer casually when you come up next to them. 

All right members look absolutely starstruck. Jeongin’s eyes look like they might bug out of his head. 

They all bow politely when you join the group. 

Chan’s bow is a second later than everyone else’s. He’s too busy staring in absolute disbelief. 

“Y/N! It’s so nice to see you!” the interviewer says. You think you recognize her from another event. 

“You as well,” you respond with a beautiful smile.

“Let’s get you a mic— oh, we have no more— maybe someone— can share?”

Chan is the member closest to you, he immediately angles the mic your way. He does it so fast and eagerly it almost hits right into you. 

You giggle and thank him, “Thank you! It’s good to see you too,” you repeat and step a bit closer to him to make sharing easier. 

He smells so good. You can feel his body heat radiating onto your bare shoulders. Thankfully, the outdoor chill isn't affecting you much due to your adrenaline being so high. 

“Y/N, before I ask anything else, I do need to ask who you’re wearing.”

“Oh, a Christian Siriano original with accessories by Gucci and shoes by Prada.”

“Absolutely stunning,” the interviewer compliments. 

A light giggle comes from your chest and you go to thank her. It’s under his breath but you hear Chan say something along the lines of ‘that’s an understatement.’

“I did call you over here for a specific reason, besides the fact that we would love to interview a nominee for Best Actress. It seems you have eight fans all eager to meet you!”

You turn and look over at the members with wide eyes. “Oh my god!” You say out loud and your hand flies to your chest. “I am literally honored!”

“You know Stray Kids?” The interviewer asks. 

Well, if they already said they were fans… 

You lean down into the mic and laugh, “I have been a Stay for so long, are you kidding?”

Every single one of them don shocked expressions. Chan goes stiff as a board. 

You look at each of them with one of the most gorgeous smiles across your face. “When I was called over here with you guys I thought I was going to pass out. I had your discography playing in the room while my stylists got me ready.”

All eight of them move around like little kids meeting their idols for the first time. They each stare at you with literal stars in their eyes. 

“The first album that caught my attention was In Life, actually. Haven is my favorite song.”

You rain compliment after compliment down on them.

“It’s truly an honor to meet you, we’re all such huge fans.” Felix is the one that breaks the silence into the mic. The rest of them all nod eagerly. 

“Since we’re all fans of Kings and Pirates,” the interviewer brings your attention back. “Do you think you could give us a small spoiler for the new season coming out?”

“Ah,” you laugh and look around a bit, sucking your teeth in thought. “I reaaally shouldn’t, but…” You look to the side to make eye contact with all the members but Chan’s piercing gaze is the one that stole your breath away. 

His stylist had done his hair in such a natural, curly way. Every single strand is sitting perfectly on his head. The makeup on his face highlights his features angelically. 

Especially that beautiful nose of his. 

Each of them wore black tie suits with a bit of personal flair on them. Chan’s entire suit, including the undershirt and tie, was black. 

It takes a moment for your brain to reboot, not that anyone noticed. To them, it just looked like you were thinking of a small spoiler to give away. 

“I think that fans can look forward to seeing an old face that we previously had to say goodbye to.”

Jeongin eagerly grabs Han’s arm and says something in his ear. The two of them start whispering about what the spoiler could possibly mean. 

The rest of them all move around anxiously. Except Chan. He continues to stare at you with his lips parted slightly. 

You hold his eye contact for one more moment before looking back at the interviewer with a sinfully sweet smile. 

“Wow!” She says over-dramatically on purpose, “I think us fans have a lot to look forward to. Best of luck to all of you with your nominations tonight!”

“Thank you so much!” You chirp into the mic and stand there with a smile while she does her required sign off to go back to the main camera back in LA. 

During those few moments, you feel Chan shift his weight so that his entire arm brushes against yours. Goosebumps immediately fly up your shoulder and through your neck. 

It takes every muscle in your body not to react to it.

He’s still holding the mic between the two of you just in case you need to speak again. You want to turn your head and look at him so badly. 

You want to talk to him in the worst way; ask him questions about the music, even just how his day is, anything. 

The cameras cut and you instantly let out a sigh of relief, next to you, you see the eight of them deflate a bit too. 

The interviewer says her thanks and the crew takes the mics back from everyone. 

“It really was a pleasure meeting you guys,” you say with your hand on your heart again. “Words cannot describe how honored I am to be talking to you all.”

“Are you kidding?” Chan jokes. “We all feel the same way. I don’t think we even thought we would be able to stand near you tonight.”

You laugh and see your agent signaling you out of the corner of your eye. 

“Bah! I’m just a girl, really! Best of luck to you guys tonight, I’ll be cheering extra loud from the crowd when you win!”

“The same goes for us,” Chan smiles. He sticks his hand out and you immediately grab it. 

Electricity shoots up your arm and you have to bite your cheek to keep yourself from screaming. 

Your hands shake and you say your goodbyes to each of the members before walking away to your next interview. 

As soon as they think you’re out of earshot, they all begin talking rapidly to one another about you. 

“Can you believe it?”

“She’s a Stay!”

“Oh my god, I think I blacked out, did that really happen?”

“You lucky bastard, you got to shake her hand and share your mic with her.”

“Stop acting like a middle schooler.”

Their voices fade into the background the further you get from them. You just can’t help but smile and look down at the floor sheepishly. 

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

“I’ll find you after the awards show, okay, hon?” Your agent catches your attention as you walk into the auditorium. 

She grabs both of your forearms lightly and kisses your cheek. “Best of luck to you, don’t make yourself look stupid on stage.”

That last part is whispered into your ear and it makes you laugh. “I won’t! I won’t!”

She says her goodbyes once more and you look up at the usher waiting for you. 

This award show has its nominees all sitting around large dinner tables. There’s about ten people per table. 

For your show, you were the only one nominated for an award tonight, so not even your director or crew was here to sit with you. 

The usher held out his arm for you to take and you did so with a gracious smile. There’s a reason you’re known for charming everyone you meet. 

He leads you through the vast room. Several fellow actors call your name and greet you, and you respond to each one happily. 

“Here we are, Miss Y/N.”

No way. Absolutely no way. 

Seated around the entire table are the eight members you saw mere minutes ago, their manager taking the ninth seat. 

Sure enough, your name is printed on a sign draped over the back of the chair. 

Minho looks up at you first and waves sheepishly. You immediately wave back.

If Lee Minho waves, you wave back. 

“Hi again!” You greet them all before turning up and gently laying a hand on the usher’s bicep to thank him. He bows his head once and walks off. 

Chan, who was seated next to your empty chair, practically springs out of his seat and stands next to you. 

“I can’t believe this,” you tell him with a wide smile. He mirrors it and holds his hand out to the chair. 

You laugh while he grabs the back of it and pulls it out from the table. 

It takes a little bit of special maneuvering, but you manage to fold your poofy skirt down in order to sit down. Chan pushes your chair back in and takes his seat next to you. 

He now sits on your left, Seungmin on your right. 

“I guess I would’ve met you guys tonight regardless, then!” 

“It seems that way,” Chan answers. He reaches up and rubs the side of his neck with his hand. 

Now, from years of being a fan, you know that’s a nervous tick of his. And with your friendly nature, all you want to do is soothe him. 

“It’s like I’m getting a deluxe, VIP fan meeting. When Stay watches the award ceremony they’re all going to put a bounty on my head.” 

They all laugh and you turn to look at Seungmin, “Can I have an autograph before I die? I didn’t bring any of my albums with me, though.”

He laughs at your joke and your heart smiles with his beautiful grin. 

“I knew I should’ve brought a photocard with me.”

Behind you, Chan shifts around. “You bought our albums?”

You turn back to him, “Of course I did. I wanted to support you guys. Best way to do that is streaming your music and buying the albums, right?”

“Yeah,” he answers nervously, his bottom lip pulling between his teeth. “Yeah, you’re right. Just didn’t think I’d ever meet a celebrity I admired and find out they’re a Stay.”

You giggle and lean forward on the table. “I hope that’s not weird. I think I would’ve exploded if I didn’t tell you guys how big of a fan I was.”

“Not weird at all, just unexpected.”

“I guess I feel the same way, especially after hearing that you guys watch the show.”

“We love the show!” Han tells you from across the table. “Sometimes Minho will cut dance rehearsals early for us to go back and watch it.”

“Seriously?” you ask. “Wow, that really means a lot, you have no idea.”

“It’s easy to be a fan of yours,” Chan grabs your attention. “You’re one of the kindest people we’ve met in a while.”

Oh, you are practically kicking your feet around. 

“Fame is a whole other universe to tackle. I wanted to make sure I treat my fans and everyone around me the way I wanted to be treated before all this happened to me. It’s important not to lose yourself. But I know you guys all know that already. You’re masters at it.”

“Hyunjin still lets it get to his head.” Felix jokes. 

“What!”

The pre-show continues like this as the rest of the celebrities file in. Many stop by your chair and say hello to you.

With each one, you get up out of your seat, hug and kiss them hello, then sit back down only to be interrupted again. 

“You certainly are popular,” Chan comments after you say goodbye to a fellow actor. “That last guy crossed the room to come say hi to you.”

With a giggle, you joke, “Is someone jealous?”

He stiffens for a moment, his back going straight and he clenches his fists on the tabletop for a moment. “No.”

His answer is not firm at all. 

Before you’re able to analyze it, producers come out among the audience to tell everyone the cameras are about to begin rolling. 

“When is your award in the lineup?” You whisper over to Seungmin. 

“Right before yours, actually.”

“Maybe I’ll see you all backstage then.”

You both smile at each other and shift back in your chairs. 

Several cameramen come out into the audience with their large sets of equipment. One of them is very obviously hovering by you. 

You know he’ll signal you if you’re being shown. The teleprompters strategically placed along the venue also show what is being broadcasted. 

Opening music begins playing and the lights dim among the audience. The centerpieces on the tables give off an evening glow. 

A waiter comes over and places your drink on the table. You actually had forgotten you requested one before sitting down. 

You thank him and he takes his leave. 

“What’s that?” Chan whispers in your ear. 

“Espresso martini,” you answer. “Wanna try?”

Chan looks over at his manager, who is busy watching the host make his opening speech. He nods quickly and leans down, taking a long sip off the top. 

A tiny ‘mmm’ comes from the back of his throat and he looks at you while licking his lips a bit. 

“Oh that’s delicious.”

“And dangerous.”

You lift the glass and take a long sip from it and place it back down on the table. 

“I got my first major role fresh out of college. I’m still learning how to not rely on alcohol to have fun.”

Chan just laughs and both of you direct your attention to the host on stage. 

“-and if all else fails, we have our lovely knight in shining armor to protect us, tonight.”

The camera man turns and has the camera on your face. You smile brightly and blow a kiss into the camera. The entire audience lets out several positive reactions. 

When the camera cuts away, you let out a sigh of relief. “I knew they were gonna do that.”

You take another large swig of your drink. It’s almost empty already. Curse these fancy people and their tiny portions. 

Chan leans over and suddenly his hot breath is on your skin. Goosebumps rip down your body and you can’t suppress a shiver. 

“Careful,” he whispers lowly. “I don’t think you want to be stumbling onto the stage.”

“I think you underestimate my alcohol tolerance, Mr. Bang.”

You both make eye contact.

The audience applauds as the host leaves the stage and the first announcer comes on. Both of you clap and Chan leans away from you. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his tongue dart out to wet his bottom lip before he pulls it between his teeth.

His cologne lingers around your senses even after he’s gone. 

Dammit, he’s right. But, my god, you need another stiff drink.

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

“And here are the nominees…” The announcer says into the mic. The entire table is holding their breath. 

This was it, this was Stray Kids’ award. Your jaw clenches with anticipation as the names are read off one by one. Individually, you crack each of your knuckles anxiously.

All eight of the members are staring up at the screen, each of them have their own nervous ticks. 

You reach under the table to try and comfort Chan a bit, your hand landing on his knee. He jumps in place at the table at the contact.

Without looking at each other, he places his hand on top of your and squeezes a bit.

“It’s going to suck when I have to sit here by myself after you guys win.” you whisper to him.

“If we win.”

“You’re going to win.” You squeeze his knee again.

“And the winner is…” 

You suck in a breath, all of them stiffen up. Cameras are pointed at each of the nominees tables. 

“Stray Kids!”

Immediately, you spring out of your seat with a gleeful cheer. Clapping your hands together and smiling at each of them. 

Without a second thought, Chan wraps you into a grand hug, pure joy written across his face. Your face morphs into a shocked one, but you hug him back happily.

He’s so warm. His hug is so tight.

After a few heartbeats, he tears himself off of you with an unreadable expression. All eight of them walk up to the stage and grab the award from the presenter.

Sitting back down, you take a second to catch your breath. 

So badly, you want to focus on their acceptance speech, but all you can think about was the way Chan held you. It went straight to your heart, and thanks to the alcohol in your veins, it traveled a bit south as well. 

Nervously, your hand comes up and rubs at your chest by your collarbones, a small nervous tick of yours.

The table feels so empty without the eight of them there. Their manager is the only one left sitting there with you. He’s watching their speech intently.

Both of you stand and clap once more as they walk off the stage. All of them pushing each other gleefully and playing slap ass. It makes you giggle.

All of the lights around the room shift again and another announcer comes into the stage. The same camera man as before comes around the side of the table to stand closer to you.

The announcer goes through their speech about how important actresses are, how each of you stood out, how it was an honorable nomination. Your heart is in your throat, you can feel each thud against your ribcage so closely. 

No one was next to you to hold your knee. 

“And the nominees are…”

Various clips of the other nominees in their element flash behind their names.

Your name is third. Several different dramatic scenes play out within the five second window. They chose some of your best scenes for that little animation. The next few nominees flash after that.

“And the winner is…”

You suck in your breath.

“Y/N L/N! King and Pirates!”

The entire audience erupts in cheers. Practically everyone stands up on their feet.

You bury your face in your hands in disbelief. 

“Oh my god!” you practically yell as you stand up. 

An actor from the next table places his hand on your back to help you out of your chair. You smile gratefully at him and make your way up to the stage. 

During the entire walk, several different people offer you their congratulations, you thank each of them, shaking their hands. 

Climbing your way onto the stage, you make your way over to the announcer, kissing their cheeks as a thank you and turning to speak into the mic.

“Oh wow,” you laugh into the mic, looking down at the award and then back up at the audience. “I know everyone says this, but I really did not expect this! I mean, have you seen any of the other shows?”

A gentle laugh comes from the crowd. 

The rest of your acceptance speech is short, sweet, and to the point. The timer on one of the teleprompters definitely motivated you to speak quickly. 

As you walk away with your award, music plays behind you. A stage manager comes up to you and ushers you through the wings.

Several more congratulations come your way, you respond to each of them humbly.

You turn a corner and are met with a cheer even louder than the one from the auditorium full of people. 

All eight members of Stray Kids are clapping for you, jumping up and down in excitement. Your enthusiasm immediately matches theirs as you come up to them.

“I can’t believe it!” you say loudly, holding the award out to look at. “I think I’m dreaming!”

You turn and look up at Hyunjin, “Pinch me, I have to be asleep!”

He laughs at you and lightly grabs your arm. You yip dramatically and look back down at the trophy. “Nope, definitely awake!”

“If you guys would please find your seats, we need to clear this hallway.” a stagehand ushers your group away. He turns and looks down at you with a soft smile, “They wouldn’t leave until you came back.”

“Aww,” you coo to all of them. Your arm wraps around Jeongin’s, who happens to be the closest at the moment. “You guys are too sweet!” 

Your head rests on his arm and you hug it close as a thank you. He pats your hand and bends his arm to escort you back to your table.

A pair of deep brown eyes burn into the side of your head the more you grab onto Jeongin. Not that you noticed. 

Walking through the hallways, you see one back hall that has signs for the bathroom.

“Actually, I’m going to run to the ladies’ room before going back to the table. I’ll meet you guys back there. Do you mind taking this back to the table for me?”

You drop Jeongin’s arm and hold the trophy out to him. The maknae is hesitant, but takes your award anyway. You laugh at him and rub his arm before you head back to the bathroom.

“Am I allowed to be holding this?” he asks as you walk away.

The venue was a grand, old hotel, you follow so many twists and turns to get to the bathroom. Was there even one back here?

Did you take a wrong turn? There aren’t even workers back here. 

You definitely aren’t supposed to be back here. Turning back and finding another bathroom is probably the best option at this point. 

A gentle grasp on your wrist makes your heart jump and a gasp tear from your throat. Frightened, you turn around and raise your hand to hit whoever snuck up on you. 

“Y/N! It’s just me!” Chan says quickly, cowering behind his hand just in case you still swing. 

“Ugh, Chan! You scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry, I called your name a few times, I guess you didn’t hear me.” You shake your head, he sucks his teeth. “That explains it. Staff told me there’s no bathroom down here, I wanted to grab you before you got too lost.”

Chan chuckles nervously, you laugh too. “That explains it. I guess those signs must’ve been extras that they printed for the venue. Who knows?”

It’s now that you notice he’s still holding your wrist tightly in his hand. His hand is so warm, so soft. 

He nervously licks his lips and his eyes look all around the hall, anywhere but at you. His throat bobs with a gulp. 

“I don’t ah— I don’t believe I gave you a proper congratulations. So, congratulations on the award. You deserve it.”

“Oh!” You giggle. “Thank you! And a hearty congratulations to you as well, I can’t think of anyone who’s worked harder than you guys.”

Taking another step closer to him, you turn your wrist around and take a hold of his hand.

“I also can’t think of any other celebrities I would want to celebrate with.” The corners of your lips pull into a grin, Chan’s twitch as well. “You guys are so sweet, cheering for me. Made the win that much better.”

Slowly, his ears begin to turn red and his jaw clenches a few times. His chocolate brown eyes flit all over your face and around the hall. His nerves on clear display. 

“Yeah, well, you deserve it, so.” Chan clears his throat and adjusts the tie around his neck. “I can’t take credit for it, it was Changbin’s idea to wait for you and all.” 

You reach up on your toes and press a long, soft kiss to his cheek. With his lips right by your ear, you’re able to hear him gasp under his breath and then stop breathing. 

Underneath your lips, you feel how much heat is radiating off his smooth skin. It’s like you kissed a frying pan. 

“Thank you, Channie,” you whisper against his skin. 

The hand around yours twitches and tightens. 

You press another kiss to his cheek before going to back away. 

Quicker than you can blink, Chan’s free hand comes around your body and holds you against him. His hand curls around you to press into the small of your back. 

Your head tucks under his chin, ear against the dip of his throat. His heart is beating just as fast as yours. 

“Not yet,” he whispers so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. “Please, not yet.”

Your heart thuds in your chest at his words. How could you not? The Bang Chan is asking you to stay closer to him for just a little while longer. The same man you’ve admired from a distance for years. 

The man who created such a deep parasocial relationship with you that it took a lot of self reflection to bring yourself out of it. And now, here you were, in his arms in real life, tucked away in the hallway of this hotel. 

Smelling his expensive cologne and aftershave, listening to his shallow breathing, the entire world seems to stop. If your past self could see this, she’d probably pass out. 

Hell, you might pass out now. 

You squeeze his hand once and he responds with a grip of his own. 

Slowly, you pull your head back to gaze up at him. He stares down at you with the most thoughtful expression. 

Eyes are windows to the soul; and right now, his soul is so flustered and fulfilled at the same time. 

“I can’t believe tonight is real,” you murmur. 

Several times, you catch Chan’s eyes flicking down to your lips. Each stolen glance adds another butterfly to your stomach. 

His hand on your back pulls you even closer. 

“You keep talking as if you’re not one of the biggest names in the world right now.” he teases and you chuckle softly. “If anyone should be pinching themself, it’s me.”

His breath is cool and minty. Yours is tinged with espresso. 

Your tongue comes out and licks your bottom lip before you pull it between your teeth. Chan watches, trying not to make it obvious. 

“Can I try something?” Your question is deathly quiet. If it wasn’t for the silence of the hallway, there’s no way he would have heard it otherwise. 

“Yes,” he replies immediately. It comes out as a huff; quick, short, and desperate. 

“Close your eyes, Chan.”

He listens right away, his eyes snapping shut. 

You hesitate for a split second, just taking in his ethereal beauty. Every curve of his gorgeous, blemish free face. It’s not fair.

Both of his hands twitch, his jaw clenches. 

You lean up slowly and press a featherlight kiss on his plush lips. 

His shoulders seem to sag inwards, a large, relieved exhale leaves his nose. 

Fireworks explode behind your eyes, tingles shoot down into your fingertips. 

You pull back after a second, his eyes open a bit and Chan stares down at you, his lips parting for a moment. 

He stares intently into your eyes, as if trying to read you or see something within them. 

Without breaking eye contact, he leans down and kisses you again. You melt into the kiss with half lidded eyes, they unfocus as you fall further into his kiss. 

Chan pulls back for a moment to turn his head and capture your lips once more, his bottom lip slotting between yours. 

Both of your eyes shut. 

Your hands move and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his head closer to yours as he kisses you like his life depends on it. 

Chan holds your waist with both hands, the heat from his hold going right through your dress. 

Each kiss is hot and heavier than the last. His grips at your dress grow needier and needier by the second, he can’t hold you close enough to his body.

Within moments, you’re both opening and closing your mouths, with open mouthed, wet, sloppy kisses. His eyebrows pull together.

Erotic pants fill the empty hallway.

You ever so gently bite down on his bottom lip and pull your head back. 

Chan sighs and his half lidded, hazy eyes look down into yours as his lip snaps back after you release it. 

He takes two long steps and walks you backwards until your back hits the wall. 

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs against your lips before capturing them in another heated kiss. “You’ll have to tell me. I can’t do it myself. Not when I’ve wanted you for so long.”

Your fingers thread up through his hair on the back of his head and you pull him closer against you. 

Tangled tongues and gentle grunts mix together. 

“What if I don’t want you to stop?” you ask lowly in between kisses. 

Chan groans and presses his entire body into yours. 

You felt like you’re on fire with the way you’re so feverishly pulling him closer. 

One his hands moves up and down your waist. The puffiness of your skirt getting in the way of his hips grinding directly into yours. 

“So beautiful,” he mutters between kisses. “So gorgeous.” Kiss. “Wanted you for so long.”

It’s your turn to moan at his praise, you suck on his tongue and his eyes roll back in his skull. 

When you pull away from each other panting, you look around in the hallway. There’s a door right next to you both, where it leads, you’re not sure. 

Chan kisses your cheek and then makes his way down your neck with his lips. 

“Chan,” you moan out. 

“Yeah, baby?”

Fuck. That goes right to your head and makes your stomach flip. 

He presses another wet kiss to your exposed collarbone and your head tilts back, knocking against the wall. He’s making it impossible to try and get any words out.

The hand on your ribcage squeezes when you let out a breathy exhale. 

“Did you need something?” he mouths against your neck and bites down right after. 

Oh, that cocky motherfucker. 

“Fuck, Chan…!” You pull at his hair. 

He brings his head up with a dopey look on his face, eyes half lidded and hazy. 

“Hm?” he hums and leans in, pressing another kiss to your check. 

One of your hands comes down and runs over his chest. You grab a hold of his tie and twist it around your hand before yanking on it. Your lips are right next to his ear and you make sure to let out hot exhales.

Chan gasps and presses a hand on the wall next to your head to keep his balance. A shiver wracks his body.

“You’re starting something you can’t finish.” The low, gravel timbre of your voice shocks even you for a moment. It’s raspy and sexy. It has an effect it has on Chan immediately. His pupils dilate and he takes a sharp intake of air.

“Oh, princess,” Chan bites your earlobe before blowing against it lightly. “I’ve never started something I didn’t intend on finishing.”

God, his voice. It’s like running your fingers over velvet. You yank his tie to the side and drag him towards the room like he’s on a leash.

Chan lets out a surprised grunt, but follows you nonetheless. Just like your little puppy begging you for your attention.

The entire walk over to the door, his hands are on your body. Anywhere Chan can reach, he’s touching you. 

When you push open the door, you’re happily surprised to find an empty dressing room. All the lights are off– perfect.

Once you both are inside, the door shuts and you push Chan against the back of it. Your lips desperately smashing together.

He’s everywhere on your body. His hands don’t stay in the same place for more than two seconds before he’s groping somewhere else. 

Blindly, he reaches for the door handle and clicks the lock in place. 

Your fist is still tightly curled around his tie, you wind it around your hand a few more times while your tongues tango. Sinfully wet noises emanate from your locked lips. Your other hand runs down his chest to unbutton his blazer.

Chan pushes off the wall and shucks the blazer off his shoulders, dropping it onto the ground. 

Never once do his lips leave yours. He’s intoxicating, you can’t get enough and neither can he.

He backs you up again until your ass hits a counter.

In one smooth movement, Chan reaches down and grabs your waist and lifts you onto the countertop. Your legs part and he stands in between them.

“This fucking dress,” he growls against your lips and nips your bottom one lightly. Desperately, he begins grabbing at the fabric, bunching it up around your hips. Underneath, you’re still clothed in stockings, corsets, spandex shorts, and many more.

He doesn’t seem to care. With both hands now grabbing your nylon-clad thighs, he brings both of your legs to wrap around his waist.

As soon as both of your hips meet, moans leave both of your mouths and you swallow each other’s. He’s hard as a fucking rock against you. So many layers of clothing separate the two of you from one another, it’s endlessly frustrating.

You pull his tie even tighter and one of his hands comes down to grip the edge of the counter for balance. 

Your hips roll against his once and he has to tighten his grip so much his knuckles turn white. 

“Do it again,” he whines against your mouth.

Who are you to say no? 

Again, you roll your hips up into his. This time, his hard cock rubs right against your clothed clit. It’s just enough to send a ripple down your legs and into your toes and they curl in your Prada heels.

You don’t stop in between hip rolls this time, you do it again and again and again. Each one feels better than the next.

It’s like your head goes underwater, deep within the riptide of the oceans of pleasure. 

And by the noises that are coming out of Chan’s mouth, you know he feels the same way. 

His hips begin to meet your thrusts with his own. Both of you are grinding into each other like teenagers in your parents’ basement. 

But you both are so needy at this moment that you’ll take anything you can get to scratch that insatiable itch. 

With each thrust, his exhales get heavier and heavier, whimpers and whines come out in between them. 

Your head kicks back against the mirror behind you after one particularly delicious roll. There’s no way you’re even on planet Earth right now with how much he’s making your body thrum.

“Fuck, babygirl,” he moans out and kisses your bare shoulder. 

You pull on his tie absentmindedly while you cry out when he thrusts even harder. 

“Wanna hear those moans with you on my cock,” he hisses when your legs tighten around his waist. “If I’m making you feel this good without touching you, think of how loud you’ll scream when I can finally fuck you into my mattress.”

“Chan-!” you whimper, your eyes squint closed, mouth falling open.

How is he so fucking good at this? Those dancer hips are merciless. It sends just the right amount of pleasure through your body.

“You know that Vogue photoshoot you did last month?” he moans into your ear, his lips right next to it. 

Your Vogue photoshoot was a borderline boudoir shoot. Only a black sheet covered you in most of your shots.

All you’re able to do is whine out an “uh-huh”.

“Babygirl, I can’t even think about that shoot without my cock getting hard. God, fu–huck! Shit.”

He’s going to make you cum just by grinding on you. You can feel it coming closer and closer. 

One of his hands travels up your body to grab at the side of your neck, his thumb caressing your jawline while he licks and nips at the other side. 

“Want you to pose like that for me. I want you all to myself.” He sounds like he would eat you whole if he could. And fuck, you would let him.

He could tell you to get on your knees and bark right now and you would.

“Close, Chan…” you whimper.

Just hearing that he’s going to make you cum makes his eyes roll in his skull. Every single wet dream of his is coming true under his own two hands. He has Y/N L/N’s legs wrapped around his waist, his cock pressed against her clothed cunt, her skin in his mouth.

Is this what winning felt like?

“You gonna cum for me babygirl?” he hisses and bites your neck.

“Yes! Shit! Don’t stop, please!”

When you try to meet his thrusts, your hips stutter, they’re unable to keep up with how fast he begins moving.

“Need you to cum, babygirl, need it so bad. Need it like I need oxygen.” Chan’s hand moves and he pulls your lips together.

He’s all consuming.

Three more thrusts and your body seizes, your orgasm gripping you so tightly that you think you might black out. 

You break free from his kiss to throw your head back. It thuds against the mirror. Your legs tighten around him so much he can barely move.

Chan rolls his hips a few more times, letting you ride out your mind-blowing orgasm. Each one is slower and more sensual than the last.

After a few seconds, your legs loosen up a bit around him. Chan trails softer kisses down your neck, over both of your collarbones, then back up to your cheeks.

They’re gentle and sweet. So different from the way he was absolutely devouring you mere moments ago.

“Chan,” you pant out. “Let me help you.”

“Soon, baby. Not here.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gold card– a hotel roomkey. 

Chan leans forward and presses a long kiss to your swollen lips. While he’s attached to you, he slips the roomkey into the top of your dress where your breasts sat.

“The Mark, room 103. Fuck The Plaza, you have your own afterparty to attend to.”

[beannoss]

Something I think about a lot and wonder if maybe gets overlooked in Twilight’s story and as vitally indicative of his character is actually in the very first chapter:

Anya isn’t needed for Strix. Twilight decides to adopt her anyway.

[Spoiler warning: Mostly this post deals with early chapters already in the anime but there is reference to chapter 62, which has not yet been animated and will be in season 3]

Twilight decides it — “I’m going to rework the mission so it doesn’t involve a child because that’s too dangerous” and he’s 100% right! Donovan Desmond is canonically a far right warmonger with fascistic authoritarian aims. His government made liberal use of the SSS — a group to mirror the Stasi — who continue to operate in morally dubious ways (much more likely they’re actively morally reprehensible, though we’ve mostly only had rumours of that so far). From what we can tell, Desmond is at best an absent father and likely actually worse than that: if that's how he treats his own children, imagine how he might treat others. And the timeline seems to indicate that the experimentation performed on Anya was done under Desmond's government — even if Twilight isn't aware of experimentation on children, he is aware of both human and animal experimentation under Desmond's government. Taking all that and also the complexity of Strix's aims, undoubtedly there were other things that could be done, more straightforward if not necessarily easier.

So. Why? Why entertain the change at all? And then, having entertained it, why go back when the reasoning is indisputable?

On the Doylist level, I think Endo wanted to ensure that Anya had some agency within the set up — Endo also does this with Yor. It would be much harder to be on Twilight’s side fully, or to trust him on an ethical level/take him as any sort of moral authority, if he were just straightforwardly using these two people. To have them be active and consenting participants (arguably to actually be affirming the arrangement: Twilight sets it up, but Anya and Yor actually make it happen) even if the audience only knows the depth of their knowledge/motivations/etc currently, shifts the power dynamic in important ways.

But it also the set up tells us important things about Twilight. He is largely impatient, cold, detached in chapter one. His overarching feelings towards Anya are, I think, real annoyance, real confusion, and real impatience. He just doesn’t understand this damn kid and it turns out she’s a person which is frankly unacceptable — he’d needed and anticipated an automaton, ideally of himself in miniature form. (Though I think one could ponder whether Twilight was, in many ways, an automaton himself at this point, but that's maybe for another meta 🙃)

He’s not entirely unmoved of course — we're given to understand he’s affected when Franky tells him how many times Anya’s been adopted and returned, and isn't amused by Franky's joke about names. Franky's comment — "Just don't get attached" — reinforces this. The prospect of “the future” perturbs Twilight when he’s reading the parenting books. His initial reaction to Anya’s kidnap is horror. All these are true too.

Then there’s also this, from earlier in the chapter:

It’s exposition, yeah, and it’s also exposing. "Hopes" and "joys" are very specific words to describe those events. It could simply have been "A marriage? An ordinary life?" but describing them as such — hope for marriage; joy in ordinary life — expose something of what Twilight feels about those two experiences and, on the flipside, they expose what he deems he's lacking. No hopes of intimacy; no joy in (an ordinary) life. There's an argument as well, of course, that he's being ironic but I don't think that actually invalidates the above analysis. Drawing attention to 'hope' and 'joy' at all are revealing, regardless of Twilight's tone in thinking of them. I think it's also interesting this panel, taken in conjunction with a pair of panels in chapter 62, Twilight's backstory. The above is almost a pulled out version of this below panel of Twilight's recollection of his childhood, and of course the returning image of not just a rubbish bin but a rubbish bin on fire when it comes to disposing of his identity:

Back to Strix. Both his final interaction with Karen and the whole everything of the framing of Strix is making Twilight think (and feel, ahem) things that he hasn't for some time. Twilight decides, I’m reworking this. It can’t proceed this way. Not because Anya is a pain in his ass, not because she’s not as (apparently) intellectually advanced as he’d originally thought, not even because he thinks he can find another child who would better be exactly what mission parameters called for. No:

And what changes his mind is Anya asking to come home.

One of the important parts of this to me is this:

He seeks consent.

This moment is a keystone, I think, to understanding Twilight. It’s also more telling than he maybe realises. Twilight is decisive — we all laugh because he spirals at the drop of a hat when his daughter or wife look even mildly upset but outside those (also very telling) scenarios, he makes decisions and he pursues them. Often he makes decisions quickly. He’s a dab hand at it; it’s a large part of why he’s as good a spy as he is.

He’d decided to change Strix.

Anya asks him, in essence, not to.

So, he doesn't.

But it's wild that he entertains keeping her request at all — why? Why even entertain it? It’s dangerous; it’s impractical; there are too many moving parts outside his direct control; Anya isn’t the sort of child he’d wanted for the mission if he’d spent any time thinking about what a child might actually be like; Strix is in many ways an extremely long shot anyway, Desmond could just stop attending for reasons unknown and unrelated; etc.

So, yeah, why? Maybe because of this —

In conjunction, I often think of this moment in the cruise arc:

Twilight first naming the feeling as lonesome, and secondly tacitly conceding that he perceives Yor as a companion and that that relationship is important to him, something to be missed. What makes this for me though is that Anya calls this out "Papa's you're so sappy" and Twilight's reaction is that of someone caught-out. He doesn’t say “nuh-uh!” but he may as well have. Essentially, something landed a bit close to home, hm? Maybe some of that hope for marriage? A soupçon of joy of an ordinary life?

Twilight’s loneliness underpins many of his decisions with his family — probably without him being fully conscious of it. I think he is at least somewhat conscious of it, but also if he looks too closely... Well, best not to. I could fill this post, I think, with images that demonstrate his loneliness throughout the series; that sorrowful/pensive close-up of his eye(s) is one of the abiding motifs for Twilight throughout. I'd probably start with this one from Twilight's backstory arc:

Anya's request plays directly off his loneliness. Still though, he doesn’t immediately capitulate — he emphasises Anya’s choice. Is she sure? The last day has been scary for a child (and for him, but he's ignoring that part) and Twilight, in his increasing recognition that Anya is a person, is probably aware in the back of his mind that he hasn’t exactly been warm or welcoming or at all patient with her. Things that people respond to — he's otherwise excellent at manipulating people, so of course he understands this. So. Given she'd just had this scary experience, given he hasn't exactly been great with her: Is she sure? She wants to come home — with him?

I think the moment may get a little lost because Anya says something riffing off his own earlier thoughts and self-revelation (featuring that shadowed, lonely eye motif again!)

Were this a post about Anya, I’d talk about how it’s an important character moment for her as well by way both of demonstrating her agency/choice and also that she isn’t nearly as dumb as Twilight thinks (and the audience, maybe, also thinks).

But in my view, she didn’t actually need to say anything about it making her cry. I think she could simply have said yes in that moment and Twilight would have agreed.

Twilight’s an unreliable narrator; he’s disconnected from his heart and that shrouds his own motivations from himself — something he actually also concedes in this chapter!

And it shrouds from us just how much he actually understands himself. He’s also a master of deflection. Easy to assume or say that bringing Anya home is just to align with Strix. Nothing more to see here; nothing else going on. But also that ripping off of the mask in the panel above — and the literal 'riiip' sound effects — also indicate to us that this is an unveiling to himself.

In my view, Twilight agreeing to Anya's request, deciding to go back to original mission parameters, actually shifts his motivations, subtly. Now he’s committed not only to the original mission goals, but also to Anya. He needs Anya to succeed at Strix, not only for Strix's sake, but also because otherwise the mission will end and she’ll have to go back to the orphanage, and he’s just agreed with her not to do that (not right away, in any case). I don’t think at this point he’s thinking it’s forever — his thoughts throughout the manga indicate he still expects the Forgers to be temporary. I don't think the shift in motivation is necessarily even conscious, but given the set up, I think something inside Twilight recognises that agreeing to bring Anya home is a compact, jointly engaged. Mostly all this has become subsumed into Strix: he makes decisions. He pursues them. He deflects, even from himself. Of course it's just for the mission; this saved him the trouble of reworking it, of figuring out something else. Nothing more to see; no need to think any more on it. And to be fair to him, Strix is very high stakes, resting pretty solely on his shoulders, so of course that is, objectively, motivation enough. Why even consider beyond that?

But I personally think that to the extent he's aware of it at all, there is something else going on, that he wants to have Anya for as long as it takes him to work something else out for her. If that's the case, then of course, we have Occam’s razor: the simplest solution may be the best one.

Maybe Twilight should just keep Anya himself, eh?

[Image description: gif from Spy x Family season 1, episode 1. Twilight and Anya have just found out Anya passed her entrance exam and are overjoyed. Celebratory, Twilight picks Anya up and swoops her into the air as they smile at one another. End image description]

[dustysalmon]

Eye of the Storm - Chapter 2

Pairing: Silco x Reader Rating: Explicit Warnings/Tags: graphic depiction of violence; slow burn; enemies to lovers Word count: 3.6k

Summary: After a chain of unexpected events, Jinx is arrested, and you find yourself in possession of the gemstone. On top of it all, you are forced into a reluctant alliance with Silco. What else could possibly go wrong?

Takes up at the end of episode 7.

Read on ao3 ⎜ Previous chapter

The last time you had been in the city council building was for your graduation at the enforcer academy, years ago. As you are now led to the hearing room, the place strikes you as immense and comically shallow—just like it did the first time.

Beautiful, no doubt, but empty and cold, devoid of personality and humanity. The archives are the exception. You’d barely gotten a glimpse of them back then, but you had wanted to go back ever since. The immense room was brimming with books, artefacts, and knowledge dating back centuries. Piltover had its share of problems, but it had always been a remarkable city. Hextech had only confirmed that. It transformed the lives of Piltovians for the better, improving transportation, the use of technologies, healthcare. One day, you think to yourself with a smile, you’ll find a way to sneak into that room again. But alas, for now, your current position doesn't allow for such privileges. Your smile fades a little as a large, heavy door opens before you, and you are reminded of why you’re here. 

The councillors are in the middle of a heated debate, apparently trying to determine just how tight to close their fist around the undercity’s throat. It has not escaped your notice that the citizens of Piltover were deeply shaken by yesterday’s events. The streets are empty, shipments are being delayed or even cancelled at an alarming rate, and some people have even started leaving the city. Not that you can blame them. The repeated clashes between Silco’s goons and the Firelights have gotten more frequent, just like the assassinations of enforcers. It may have been years, but no one up here or below has forgotten the riots. 

You balance yourself on your feet as you wait for the councillors to finish. They don’t seem to be in a hurry. At some point you even wonder if they have noticed your arrival. You gaze absently at the dome-shaped ceiling, calculating how many yous it would take to reach it. So high and out of reach, disconnected. After a long minute, and with swift apologies, Councillor Kiramman gracefully puts you out of your misery. Among the people present, you can safely admit that she is one of the more grounded—well, as grounded as Piltovians can be, but she’s not afraid to swim against the tide when the need arises. Show of proof, you wouldn’t be there otherwise. 

She introduces you to the other six members, states your rank, and your part in arresting Jinx. With minute details, you go over the events of the day before, the showdown between the Firelight leader and Jinx, the bombs, and the aftermath. The council has already heard from Caitlyn Kiramman this morning and you confirm Marcus’ betrayal. When councillor Salo inquires about the alleged deal between the late Sheriff and Silco brought forward by Caitlyn, you fail to suppress a light scoff, to the great displeasure of your interlocutor.

"Is there something amusing? Please, indulge us, officer, I do love a good joke in the midst of tragedy."

You clear your throat, arms crossed behind your back. "Respectfully, councillor, a blind man would have seen the connection." Salo fixes you with contempt, but leaves it at that.

"What about the gemstone?" He continues, "Officer Kiramman stated that it was the very reason she was meeting with Marcus, but there’s been no trace of it since then." You display your most convincing expression of surprise. 

"I was not privy to the details of that meeting. It was only after my medical check-up this morning that I was made aware of the stone." The councillors exchange disappointed looks across the circular table. It’s been days since Progress Day, when the Hextech technology was stolen. Until last night at least Piltover knew where to look. Now, the Gemstone is in the wind, just about anybody could put their hands on it. True, the chances of this person actually being able to use the Hextech technology are thin but that uncertainty is far from satisfactory to the Council. On top of it all, it represents a tremendous economic hit for Piltover due to the colossal amount of third party investments revolving around Hextech. The city would recover eventually, but its reputation would be tarnished for decades to come.

Council members Medarda and Shoola follow up with more general inquiries about the riots, the protesters, and the arrests. Meanwhile, Bolbok and Hoskel seem more interested in moving on to more economic and trade matters. Jayce Talis, the man of progress himself, has not uttered a single word since you walked in, but his brain is buzzing, and you can see the restlessness in his posture, and the way his jaw tightens each time the others drone on about policies and regulations. Clearly he’d rather be anywhere else, crafting the next jewel of Hextech, running numbers, and solving equations alongside that curious partner of his. He’s not a bureaucrat, and at that particular moment, he’d much rather do the work than simply talk about it. 

Councillor Kiramman asks you about the morale of the enforcers deployed. You can’t tell if the concern is genuine, or if this is all just political decorum. Either way, you gladly put in a word for more ample rations, surely that can’t be too much of a dent in the city’s budget. 

At last, the interrogatory comes to an end, and a discreet exhale of relief escapes you as each councillor thank you for your service and presence. You are in the middle of excusing yourself when Salo cuts you off. 

"One last question, if I may. Multiple witnesses confirm that Silco, the industrialist, was at the scene last night. Why not arrest him too?"

You frown, "On what grounds? The council itself concluded that he runs his…business by the book."

"True," he presses, tone unyielding. "However, after Marcus revealed himself as a traitor, one would think you would have reconsidered Silco’s true role in all this."

Normally, you don’t take kindly to being called dense, especially in front of an audience. But now isn’t the time to let pride get in the way. This testimony is far from routine; you need to tread carefully here. As far as Piltover is concerned, this entire operation is a no show. The city is on edge, its Sheriff exposed as a corrupt traitor, and the gemstone…well, that’s strictly need-to-know. The truth is, Piltover is not looking too sharp at the moment, and neither is the council. They are looking for a scapegoat. All things considered, you’d much rather appear naïve for a few seconds than be caught with the Gemstone in your back pocket.

"I’m an enforcer, not an investigator." You say with a slight shrug. "But I believe that Silco is more valuable to us down there than rotting in Stillwater."

Salo leans forward, curious to hear your input. "And why is that?"

"So far, save for a few dissidents, the people of the undercity have mostly kept to themselves. Enforcer presence at the border is only effective because the other side is not interested in making trouble. Yet. We’re not the ones keeping the undercity in check. And neither are you or your policies. Silco is." 

Salo sneers. "And what a marvellous job he’s doing!"

You hold your ground, trying to ignore the mocking laughs rising around the table. "Surely I don’t need to remind you what happens when the underground is really out of control. This is nothing."

"Watch your tone, officer. Don’t forget your place."

You muster every ounce of self-control, taking a deep breath as Councillor Kiramman calls for a bit of decorum. You give her a quick, appreciative nod before continuing, "I made a judgement call, if you wish to punish me for it, that’s entirely up to you. Our orders were to stand watch on the bridges, and make arrests. Nothing more, nothing less."

Salo looks ready to press further, but Councillor Medarda’s patience is running thin as well. "I’m sure there will be no punishments necessary." She offers a composed smile, folding her hands together. "Once again, thank you for your time." She pauses, then seems to remember something important, and her smile sharpens. "Oh, I nearly forgot. Some good news at least. It seems you’ve been promoted." You stare at her, mouth agape and completely thrown off. "My congratulations, Major. You’ll be sure to extend my sympathies to Warren as well."

Of all the things that you expected from this meeting, this wasn’t even part of the honourable mentions. "Warren, ma’am?"

"He will be the city’s new Sheriff, of course."

"Of course." You echo, the words slipping out reflexively as your mind is still reeling.  You nod absently, thank the council, and with a final glance around the room, you turn and make your way toward the large doors that the guards are pushing open for you. The corridor outside somehow feels even emptier than before, each step echoing as you replay her words in your mind. Major. You’d walked in here prepared to defend yourself—prepared for the occasional lecturing and patronising, maybe—but a promotion? That hadn’t even crossed your mind.

You decide to go all the way home on foot today—some fresh air might do you some good. So many events in so little time. You sigh. It’s not that you miss your old life—no, you wouldn’t go back for anything. But there was a rhythm to it, a familiarity. You did your part and did it well. Until the sickness made it unbearable. Here, everything feels out of reach, beyond your control. It’s not quite what you imagined. Not that you came to topside with the intent of sparking fundamental change or flipping the narrative. You would gladly call yourself an idealist, but you’re not delusional—something your mother would argue against. Maybe, somewhere deep down, you once thought you could make a difference, but that ship sailed long ago. 

Unsurprisingly, the locals have deserted the food market today, much to the traders’ dismay. They linger behind their stalls, looking miserable, surrounded by products that will likely go unsold. Another week of nearly nonexistent pay, and most of this food will end up wasted. Maybe you can profit from that.

You treat yourself to a cheese sandwich and pick up some fruits and fish for the next few days. You approach the bread stall with a tinkle in your eye. A bit of small talk here, a few shared laments about the dire economy there, and you walk away with five huge pieces of brown bread—free of charge. The uniform surely helped a little too.

Taking an enthusiastic bite of your sandwich, you start making your way out of midtown, when you hear someone calling your name in the distance. The smile that spreads across your face as your eyes lock on the massive Vastaya jogging towards you is one of pure joy and excitement.

"Dren! I thought that was you!" You barely have time to set your grocery bags on the floor before strong strong arms lift you off your feet and spin you around. When he finally puts you down, Dren towers over you by at least a foot. 

Like most Vastayas of his species, he boasts stunning purplish skin covered by a very thin layer of fur, thick jet-black hair, and vivid fluorescent green eyes—eyes you are convinced are twice as sharp as human ones, though he always denies it. Truth be told, you’re still a little salty about constantly losing shooting contests and training sessions to him. The two of you find the nearest bench and start catching up on everything that’s happened over the past four months or so, while Dren was in training. Eventually, the conversation shifts to the events of the bridge. You keep it brief, doubtful he wants to hear the gruesome details. 

"What about you?" You ask, steering the conversation away. After the testimony just minutes ago, you’ve had enough of this topic for the day.

"Well…it’s official." Dren discreetly pulls a shiny paramedic insignia from his satchel. "I was just on my way to headquarters to pick up all my gear." You watch him as he gazes at the small object resting in the palm of his large, clawed hand, his expression transfixed. 

"I’m so proud of you. I hope we’ll get to work together again, now that I—" You stop yourself mid-sentence, and Dren is too lost in his own thoughts to notice. This is his moment after all. Besides, the ceremony isn’t even planned yet—plenty of time to share the news.

"How’s Olenna these days?" The question jolts you out of your happy little trance. Dren is part of a very small circle of people who are aware that your relationship with your mother is complicated, to put it gracefully. He knows how painful it is for you to talk about her, but he always asks. He’s unapologetically direct and straightforward like that, which is one of the reasons you like being around him. He challenges you constantly, body and mind. 

"Not improving," you admit with a sigh. "Not getting worse, either. At least, I don’t think so. It’s hard to tell." Dren nods silently, his green eyes fixed on you with a disarming attentiveness that always makes you feel both seen and vulnerable. When you don’t elaborate, he pats his hands on his thighs, and rises from the bench.

"Well then, I’m sure a nice dinner will do her some good. Her and you." You chuckle at the remark. It has been an intense few days for sure, and you can physically feel the bags pulling at your eyes and your entire body screaming with fatigue. You part ways after a long hug, him striding towards the university district, you towards the undercity.

They’re still scraping up blood and body parts off the main bridge; you’ll have to make a small detour. The protests have died down significantly, and from experience, you wager it will remain that way for a couple more days. Hopefully, you’ll be able to rest properly for once. You cross the southeast bridge without a hitch, a group of demonstrators throw nasty looks in your direction, but they don’t make any trouble. 

As soon as you reach the other side, you smell it. The pungent, heavy atmosphere of the underground. A stench that gives every visitor, foreign or local, a clear picture of what to expect once they enter the undercity. The familiar tang of rust and oil invades your nostrils, and you automatically reach down into your collar to adjust the sensibility on your chemsurge. Here, the smells cling to everything—your clothes, your skin, your very breath. It takes a few showers to get rid of it; you’ve learnt that the hard when you started working in Piltover. All things considered, the promenade level is not so bad. At least the sun is still visible there, faint but persistent, piercing through the cloud of fog hovering menacingly above. But as you descend deeper into the city through endless flights of worn stairs, it gets darker and darker, until your surroundings turn a murky haze of green and brown. The only light comes from the old street lamps lining the path. Their glass casings are grimy and cracked, some sputter and pop as though they might burn out at any moment. 

The alleys of entresol are mostly empty at this hour, but they’ll come alive with chatter, the clinking of drinks, and the inevitable clash of street brawls as the evening sets in. The sounds here are already louder, more chaotic. Voices echo through the narrow alleys, overlapping to create an overwhelming cacophony. Your gaze drifts towards the walls that are covered in graffiti. Beautiful murals, meticulously painted to retrace the history and pay tribute to the notable figures of each neighbourhood. 

As you make your way through the industrial district, the faint hum of machinery fills the place, a blend of churning and groaning punctuated by the sporadic hiss of steam vents and the distant clatter of pipes. Workers pass by, their clothes stained in grease, sweat and coal. Their faces are weary, marked with exhaustion, yet there is an undeniable air of camaraderie among them. Cables and pipes crisscross above, dripping occasional beads of liquid onto your shoulders or the ground with a soft plink. The pavement beneath your feet is uneven, a patchwork of scavenged stone and scrap metal, slick with oily puddles that reflect the faint glow of the lights.

At last, the distinct reddish roof of your mother’s house comes into view. You step inside, slide your muddy boots off, and leave them on the small doormat right behind the door.

"Ma, I’m home." You announce yourself loudly as you set the groceries down in the kitchen. You put everything away, sliding the items in their proper drawers and cupboard. Your mom is very particular about that. You set two breads aside for yourself before grabbing a large container of water from under the sink. Pouring some into a clean glass, you set it on the wooden table.

Olenna emerges from the dimly lit corridor, her warm sleeping clothes hanging loosely on her frame and a book resting in her hand. "It’s barely noon," she says dryly, pulling herself a seat. 

"It was just a routine council meeting," you reply matter-of-factly, your hands reaching for the little compartment that holds her medicines. 

"Must be nice for those Pilties," she scoffs, before a heavy coughing fit overtakes her. "They sure don’t push themselves too hard, do they?…You would know."

You ignore her remark and ask, "Is fish porridge okay for today?"

"Oh, it’s okay," she replies, her voice dripping with passive aggression. "Just like it was okay yesterday, and the day before that." You know better than to engage, so you simply place two painkiller tablets in front of her. 

"Those things are killing me, you know."

"I’m sure they’re the least of your problems." Her face tightens, clearly offended, and she is about to argue, but you put your hand up.

"Just—" You are used to this ridiculous back and forth, it’s the same charade everyday. "Take the meds." You slide the glass of water across the table and wait. It takes the usual five or six seconds for your mom to give in. Finally, she grabs the pills, shoves them into her mouth, and  downs the glass like it’s a shot of fine whiskey. After a few very exaggerated heavy breaths, she stands up. "Okay, I’m ready."

The process is always the same. Olenna sits backwards on the chair, her arms crossed over the backrest while you transfer a small dose of tampered Shimmer in a syringe. The light purple liquid spreads slowly, almost hypnotically. You lift your mother’s shirt up and quickly find the spot along her spine where the needle needs to go. Her body becomes rigid as you empty the content of the syringe all the way through, but it’s very brief. Once you’re all done, you clean everything up and get to cooking. 

As usual, most of the dinner is spent in comfortable silence. Occasionally, you’ll try to make small talk. You get a word or two in return, a full sentence if you’re lucky. You smile quietly to yourself as Olenna puts her fork down. She can criticise your cooking all she wants, but she always finishes before you, leaving nothing but a clean plate behind. 

You drape your uniform jacket over your shoulders and grab the grocery bag with the bread, calling out from the hallway.

"Goodnight, Ma. I’ll see you tomorrow."

"If I haven’t kicked the bucket by then," she shouts back.

"Whatever you say, Ma." You throw one last glance behind you—Olenna is already lost in her book—and head out the door.

Your apartment is just across the street, close enough if anything happens. If your relationship was different, you’d be living with her, of course. But the way things are now, she probably would’ve strangled you to death already—or vice versa. It’s better this way. 

Once you’re alone in the quiet of your room, you pull out a small shoe box from under the bed. You open it to reveal the gemstone, nestled in a makeshift padding. Carefully, you take it between your thumb and index finger, rolling it slowly. It’s beautiful by all accounts, and you can’t help but wonder how such a tiny object could cause so much trouble. You’ve turned the problem over in your mind all day, and yet you still don’t know what the hell to do with it. Honestly, you don’t even fully grasp the kind of power you’re holding. You imagine that if Hextech can power up portals, then surely this thing could be used for much more dangerous purposes. But technology was never your strong suit. All you know is that there’s only two people in topside who know how to use Hextech safely—and that is not exactly reassuring.

You glance out the window, barely able to make out anything through the thick green fog in the distance. There are plenty of things about this whole mess that are bothering you, and you intend to get some answers. A little visit to the Last Drop is in order.

[abiatackerman]

Through miracle, to you

Event: @levievent Levi Month 24!

💜Day 3: Isekai💜

Canon universe! Thug Levi X Aristocrat Reader! No Regrets Levi!

🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻

The cold breeze of the night brushes against your skin, making you shiver as you wrap the blanket coat around you more tightly. Each step you take is unsteady, your tears falling uncontrollably down your cheeks, blurring your vision.

It has been a day since you last ate, and the hunger gnaws at you, making your head spin. The world around you seems to tilt, and you feel as if you might faint at any moment.

What is the point of grieving for someone who is already gone? The thought haunts you, echoing in the emptiness left by their absence. A sob escapes your lips without knowing.

You had  no one in this world, without her. You grew up in an orphanage and you had no family, no friends, no loved ones...

Until you met her.

Your best friend, your blessing. You both met in the orphanage, grew up there and struggled hard to establish a new life. And after a lot of hard work, both of you had succeeded and you both were happy....

Until she died... Leaving you alone in this cruel world. Now you have no one who you can call close.... You're totally alone in this cruel world.

Your eyes well up with tears, blurring your vision as you walk out of the cemetery. Suddenly, you stumble and lose your balance. Your head hits the ground with a sharp impact, pain shooting through you as you groan and slip into unconsciousness.

...............................

"She's gonna open her eyes!"

You hear an excited female voice and you slowly open your eyes. A red haired-green eyed girl, who is hovering over you, smiles widely.

"Hello pretty sister.... How are you feeling?"

You blink and can't help but smile at her friendly words.

"Fine but... Where am I?"

You answer her with a weak voice. Before she can say anything you hear a hoarsely male voice, forcing you notice their presence.

"Your clothes say clearly you don't belong in this shitty place. Then why were you laying in the backyard of our cottage? That's a filthy place."

You follow the voice and see a man sitting on a chair with a knife in his hand. He's handsome but... He's short?

"Hey Levi! Don't be harsh. Hello, I'm Furlan Church. This is Isabel and Levi. May I know who you are?"

You look at the guy who's sitting beside Levi, as the guy addressed. You smile at him and nod.

"I'm... F/N L/N. And where am I currently?"

You ask as the red haired girl sits on the bed beside you.

"You're in the underground. But don't worry, you're safe. Levi bro's the strongest here and no one dares to mess with him."

She says proudly as you sit up slowly. You absent-mindedly curl your hair around your finger and as you notice your strands, you gasp.

What the fuck? It's not your hair! You had dark brown straight hair but the hair you have now is light brown and wavy. You furrow your eyebrows.

"What happened?"

Isabel asks worriedly and you look at her dumbfoundedly.

"My hair.... It's not mine..."

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

You ignoring Levi's insult and keep inspecting your hair. Isabel hands you a small mirror and you take a look at yourself. You blink with disbelief.

Who's the girl? It's not you! You had dark brown eyes, but now it's hazel! You look so far prettier than you used to!

What does it mean? You're not even dreaming....  What the heck?

You look at your hands, your clothes.... They're not the ones you were wearing at the cemetery. It looks more like a gown, which 1800's aristocrat ladies used to wear. You stand up with shock, abruptly.

If it's not your body then...

"Hey stop!"

You don't listen to Furlan's words and open the window. You peek outside and get completely confused when you look up and see no sun or stars up in the sky.

Or should you say... There's no sky at all?

"Where am I? Where's the sky"

You ask mumbling as Isabel pulls you backwards and closes the window.

"Just as I told you, in the underground. It's a city under capital mitras. You must've heard of it, right."

Isabel asks worriedly and you shake your head.

"No."

You say blankly.

"How can she? Look at her dress, she's definitely a rich bastard's spoiled brat. It's just a normal thing for her not to know."

Levi says bitterly and you bite your lower lips. Isabel and Furlan remain silent too.

It's clear on their faces that they hate rich people. Why? You don't know. Also you notice that they are not giving you the same sympathetic gaze anymore.

"Hey I... Um... Can't remember anything."

You mumble and Levi looks at you questioningly.

"The name I told you guys... It was maybe wrong... I can't remember anything."

You say hopelessly and look down at the wooden floor and grip your gown nervously...

You're panicked, scared, confused and...

"Tch, I'll just go to that shitty town to find out your identity then... Your dress tells that you belong to a rich family so I guess it won't be hard."

You look at Levi with tear soaked eyes and nod.

"Tha.. Thank you."

You mumble and wipe your tears as a sob escapes your lips. Isabel's face softens again as she notices your vulnerable state, so she hugs you immediately.

"You don't know Levi bro, he's the best... He'll obviously return you to your family.... Until then we'll take care of you."

Isabel says and your eyes tears up again. She's behaving just like your best friend. Chill, friendly and warm. You hug her tightly, breaking into tears. You hear Levi clicking his tongue.

"What a pain in the ass!"

...................

"You sure you don't want my help? I know your ego is too big and that's ok but think about Furlan and Isabel. I can easily make all the arrangements so you guys can live up here."

You say calmly, leaning on the wall of the garden as Levi sips his tea. He looks at you over his cup and shakes his head.

"Why not? You guys helped me a lot! Let me help you in return!"

You say angrily while Levi places the cup down and looks at you blankly.

"All I did was come up here. I immediately found a poster with your sketch on it which was telling you were missing. And then I just brought you here.... That's it."

You bite your lower lip in frustration.

It's true, it seems that you're a daughter of a retired commander of the military police brigade. Even though your father has retired, he still has enough influence to control some stupid royals. So some people were trying to kidnap you to blackmail your dad.

According to Levi's words, there was probably some misunderstanding between the kidnappers so they ended up fighting with each other. You took the chance and ran away and somehow ended up in Levi's backyard and that's it.

But Levi doesn't know that your soul is from another world, after a lot of thinking you have come up to a conclusion.

The real owner of this body you, both were tired, fainted and hit you heads. So maybe,  your souls accidentally switched with each other? Who knows? But this is the only conclusion you could come up with.

"Have your memories returned?"

Levi's voice pulls you out of your thoughts and you smile.

"Yeah... You can say my family really cares about me. I told them about you three, and dad is willing to help you. He also wants bear Isabel's study expenses and everything you guys would need."

Which is true. You have a family now, parents, a big brother and a little sister. They all love you so much, no, love the girl in who's body you are now. She seems to have a lot of friends too. They're all being too sweet to you and all of these are new to you.

But the feelings are sensual, in a good way so you're not complaining.....

"Then make sure to tell your father that when we'll come up here, he can repay us by providing Isabel's study expenses"

Levi's voice pulls you out of your thoughts again and you smile. You walk towards him and sit beside him with a big smile on your face.

"I'm glad you agreed."

You grip one of his hand and squeeze him to provide comfort. You can feel him tensing under your touch and you smile friendly.

"You know, you guys could have just taken my dad's help instead of doing whatever the hell you're planning. Knowing you, it'll be something risky."

Levi keeps looking at your hand which is still gripping his and sighs.

"We've done a lot of works like this also the survey corps will follow us no matter where we go. It'll be just a mess if we involve you here. Furlan and I have figured everything out so there's nothing to worry about."

Levi says and stands up, pulling away from your touch making you sigh.

"I'll leave now."

He says and you stand up too.

"Ok, I'll walk you to the main gate."

You and Levi keep walking silently for some times then you speak up.

"I can't wait, you know? I'll make sure that three of you will be able to stay here, in this mansion, with me. I miss Isabel so much. She's gonna be my best friend. And you? Probably my bodyguard."

You says and laugh as Levi makes an annoyed expression.

"Keep dreaming, brat."

He says as you two reach the main gate of the mansion. You suddenly hug him, making him freeze.

"Make sure you all stay safe, ok?"

You squeeze him.

"I'll wait for you all!"

You release the hug and find out that his cheeks are slightly pink. You blush too.

"Yeah whatever."

Levi's says and walks out of the mansion like nothing happened. You smile looking at Levi with dreamy eyes.

You never thought something this amazing would happen to you. Yes, you've come into another world but you've gotten a lot of things you never had. Love, friends, family... And Levi....

You chuckle.

It seems like getting isekaied isn't as bad as you thought.

[louisferrignojr]

the actual couch metaphor as seen in canon events (and buck's loft from s2 to the present day)

evan buckley grew up in a home devoid of warmth and love.

evan buckley took the jeep and the money his older sister gave him, along with her blessing, and ran away from home.

evan buckley lived as a nomad for 6 years, travelling around the country and working odd jobs as he tried to figure out where and what he's supposed to be.

evan buckley found a group of friends who welcomed him into their fold and followed them to LA where they lived together. it was like having the family he always wanted.

he moved in with his first serious girlfriend without ever talking about it, because it was not a relationship where they talked about things, and they weren't ever on the same page. his girlfriend's brother pointed out that buck was living there. he continued living at abby's place even after she left to travel around in europe, waiting for her to come back — even though she hadn't asked him to. waiting for the relationship to resume. he thought it was weird he was still living at abby's place, and it took him a long time to admit that their relationship is truly over.

then he finally moved out and crashed at chimney's apartment for a while and then lived with his sister.

he moved into the loft he's currently renting at the end of s2, with his girlfriend's help, who probably helped him furnish it, too. the loft is the first place buck has lived in on his own, it's his first apartment he's moved into knowing he's gonna stay there for a while — because he lives in LA, where his job is, where his family is.

next plot point is him asking taylor to move in with him instead of coming clean about the fact that he got drunk and reciprocated a kiss initiated by an equally drunk coworker. he got insecure, he knew he fucked up, and he absolutely trapped her because he only told her about it after she'd already moved in — and replaced some of this things, namely The Couch, with her own. the relationship ends in the s5 finale, taylor moves out and takes her couch with her.

at the beginning of s6, buck is upset about not being chosen as interim captain in bobby's absent. he's talking to eddie about it when he wonders "what am i lacking" and christopher teases him about it saying "buck you dont even have a couch" — this is the point where the Couch Metaphor is brought into buck's arc. buck is worried about "choosing the wrong couch" (see: he's insecure about the choices he made with taylor, ali, and abby). he has a conversation about it with bobby, too, where bobby tells him that buck's not ready to be interim captain. so it's not just about buck's personal relationships: it's about buck himself, where he's at in his journey and his character development. he's still searching for answers.

buck buys himself an armchair. it's kind of fucking obvious but. he's pressing pause on the whole dating thing. it's a one-person armchair. buck is focusing on himself.

i've written about buck's coma episode and how it affects buck's opinion of himself and his relationships with his friends and his family. there is a moment in the coma dream where he hugs his parents and, for the second time, but perhaps on a more meaningful level this time around, forgives them and says goodbye to the version of them that exist in the parallel-universe where daniel survived. when he's out of the hospital, his parents are fussing over him, his mother is asking why doesn't he have a couch and that she's gonna buy him one. maddie points out that she's gonna re-decorate his whole apartment and buck smiles and says it's actually kind of nice. yeah, they're trying to compensate for the ways they failed their kids, and buck is letting them. so his apartment now has furnishings gifted to him by his parents, who are trying to insert some of that love and warmth that was lacking throughout his childhood.

at the end of s6, two things happen, but it's important to remember that these things were written and filmed at a point where the show was not being renewed, and it's blatantly obvious that they were trying to tie up loose ends before the finale. first, the baby who was conceived with his sperm donation is born on his couch (please allow me a moment to roll my eyes so hard they fall out the back of my head. the sperm donor arc should have ended in 6a). there's a moment where buck is very clearly emotional because he knows that he helped create that baby but he is not the baby's father. but okay, the couch is ruined. gross. second, he asks natalia, the woman he's started dating recently, to help him pick out a new couch, symbolising the depth of the relationship, i guess. again, they were tying up loose ends.

and that concludes season 6, and with it, the Couch Metaphor.

this essay has been a long time coming because i know buddie shipppers have lowkey appropriated the canon couch metaphor to fit their ship, and honestly, whatever, go nuts. i don't know if anyone has written any non-buddie meta about it so i decided to do it to set the record straight.

and what prompted me is the ideas i have seen from the bucktommy side that tommy is sleeping on the same couch from s6, that the writers forgot, or that they retconned anything from s6; in this post i have given an in-universe explanation if you need one, and something from a technical perspective. whichever satisfies your curiosity about why it looks like the same couch. the point is: it's not the same couch, and it means nothing — beyond the fact that buck had to sleep on the armchair because of his dislocated shoulder, and tommy chose to sleep on the couch to be next to buck (forgoing the perfectly comfortable bed up one flight of stairs) because he's a devoted (and ridiculously in love) boyfriend.

aside from the couch, though, people have pointed out that buck has decorated his apartment for halloween, something we haven't seen before, that there was a plant that appeared in 7x10 that wasn't there in 7x04, and the noticeable difference of his fridge decor (or lack thereof) between s7 and s8, and what it means for buck's character development. those hard-pressed for buck to "get out" of the loft should maybe pay attention to it now more than ever.

buck's character has been through tremendous growth since the beginning of the show. he seems confident, and settled and comfortable in his own skin like never before. i'm looking forward to seeing how that reflects his home environment, with or without tommy.

[ihaveforgortoomany]

Alright time to speculate 2.3 with the poster tease

(Mainly why London? Why reference ballet and Swan Lake?)

(I will hide speculation now but really i dont mention anything in the 2.1,2.0, 2.3 stories, mostly just Uluru Games stuff)

Alright Uluru Games confirms the existence of people who can reincarnate in the character of Spathodea. A large part of the beginning of the event was wondering if Spathodea's current self was going to be overwritten by Flammy the first priest of the Games.

The only other one we know is Dorothy of London, from Erza she had fell down the stairs "lost every vital sign. But she woke up again and became the Egyptian Bentreshyt" so what if one of the new characters is a reincarnator?

So why London? The Uluru Games as an allusion to the Olympic Games and London has hosted a couple of the games (the famous one being the 2012 one, and the last one nicknamed the "Austerity Games" in 1948 after WW2)

@socoolinmypajamas brought up that Oliver Fog's dad died in 1952 so it might be plausible why he may appear in the patch. We know from the prologue London was hit with the 1966 Storm where we met Regulus (Rimet Cup happens shortly before as well) - so London likely is in 1948. (This would explain how Tooth Fairy and Mr Fog could be in the same story, London has been reversed to a time he could have been alive, as his death was not near or caused by the Storm)

The absence of Spathodea and Ulu is interesting, maybe they can only host the games in the Stadium? The games only start up again as a result of 1.5 so why are they seemingly absent? If this is a sequel then maybe something is preventing them coming back.

(Question: when did the games get cancelled by the Foundation? Maybe this is taking place prior to its cancelation?)

Maybe there are more priests of the game globally, but right now I cannot figure out who is on the poster.

The poster and description makes alot of references of ballet and swans so I assume something with Swan Lake might be involved. A performance maybe? Maybe we follow the focus character's journey to be the main character of Swan Lake? Its either two people on the cover or the same person dressed two ways.

(I would believe Swan Lake since the story usually ends in tragedy, the lovers in most endings die but are united in love in heaven, given R1999's tendency to pull from tragic stories this seems likely)

What I am interested in is Tooth Fairy's role here: this is also the second event where either Matilda or even Vertin appear in the story - first being Rimet Cup (Regulus does appear there but more on the side if anything)

List of main roles in Swan Lake (if the PV reveals something else or a completely different play with swans then ignore this:

Princess Odetta (Swan Queen, Swan Princess) the princess turned into a swan

Prince Siegfried the prince who falls in love with Odetta

Baron von Rothbart an evil sorcerer who bewitches Odetta into a swan

Odile (Rothbart's daughter) the black swan

Maybe like in Book 6 characters become allusions to roles in Tosca

But so far thats what I got from the teaser. (Expect more when the PV drops)

[anghraine]

@brynnmclean tagged me in WIP Wednesday! I doubly appreciate it because I'd completely forgotten, lol.

I'm gearing up for an original project through November (not NaNo directly, but I still really wanted to do something and found a cool Bluesky community with more reasonable goals and less genAI bullshit etc). So my main current fanfic project is one I've been planning all year and forcing myself not to post in its entirety and which I won't get back to until December. But a snippet can't hurt ;)

Nihlus lifted a datapad in his hand and tapped a few times, then looked at her again. “You are the Captain Mira Gardiner who was given the chance to join the Spectres and advance the circumstances of your species?” “I am,” said Captain Gardiner. “I failed the test years ago. What does that have to do with this meeting?” His mandibles flared, then settled again with a slight clack. She spared a glance at Hackett; his usual dry humor was entirely absent from his face, as was any other expression, and he said nothing. The two admirals between them were a little less guarded—they looked tense, but no more. Whatever was going on, it didn’t seem disastrous, just important in some other way. Nihlus said, “Your … performance convinced the Council that humanity was not ready for this kind of responsibility, nor capable of satisfactorily carrying out the Council's dictates without guidance.” “I’m aware,” she told him. “Recent events have altered their opinion,” he said. Gardiner tilted her head, running her thoughts through what she knew of the Alliance’s far-flung operations. She still couldn’t believe it was anything she herself had done, yet didn’t see why she was even here—much less the clear center of attention—if it didn’t have something to do with her. “He’s talking about the Skyllian Blitz and the siege of Torfan,” said Hackett. Several of the admirals shifted a little. Gardiner had no difficulty imagining why. The Blitz was one thing; human civilians, in addition to a small number of Alliance ships and soldiers, successfully defending their home from an unprovoked attack by pirates and batarian slavers, well. That made for one kind of story. Torfan was messier. “The Council has seen considerable evidence of human resourcefulness and ingenuity,” Nihlus corrected. He clacked his mandibles again. “But it is true that your people’s operations in the Skyllian Verge were particularly conclusive in the debate. When it comes to Spectres, the Council looks for those with the ability to do what must be done, as effectively as possible, no matter how unfavorable the situation, no matter what the price. Some among your species appear to have that ability.” Captain Gardiner sat back, her confusion clearing. “You’re talking about Elizabeth Bennet,” she said.

Tagging: @kareenvorbarra, @veliseraptor, @ncfan-1, @steinbecks, and anyone else who wants to!

[dr-futbol-blog]

The Siege I, Pt. 1

The Siege is a three-part story containing the two-part finale of the first season, the resolution of which takes place in the first episode of the second season. But it's actually the second and third episodes that make a double episode where the first is really a self-contained story that is still just preparation for the culmination of the A-plot of the season. And in this episode, of course, McKay and Sheppard are once again separated because they have to come up with ever more flimsy excuses as to why the two of them need to be kept from being alone together on screen. Only this time there's a reason for it.

The episode begins, like so many do, with a meeting in the conference room. The room is filled to the brim with both scientists and military, they've brought in a screen for show-and-tell, and it seems like this is McKay's show. He is giving a presentation on their current situation to all gathered, all eyes naturally on him. Teyla is not attending the meeting and it is interesting that McKay, who was absent for the events of the latter part of the previous episode with no explanation, mentions her by name right off the bat as though he has at the very least been filled in on everything that happened when he wasn't there. In fact, he begins by referring the very last thing Teyla said when Sheppard, Weir and Beckett were present by her hospital bed, so either McKay has heard all of this from Teyla herself later on, or from one of the people that were present:

McKay: Not only has Teyla been able to ascertain that the wraith are more interested in Earth than Atlantis, which is... you know, terrifying, she realized that the hive ships will go right past the only surviving LaGrange point satellite. Zelenka: The last of what we assume were dozens of defense satellites destroyed during the Ancients' last stand with the wraith. McKay: Yes, yes, yes--the point is, we think we can use it to our advantage. Sheppard: I thought you said it was dead.

Sheppard seems to remember what McKay told him months ago. Not for the first time, not for the last time. Perhaps he just found what McKay said in The Defiant One (S01E11) important enough to file into memory. Or he just has a really good memory. Or he just really cares about things McKay says. Also, this is an inside reference. He is referring to something only the two of them would know. He is bringing up a memory shared by the two of them. His comment is also pretty pointless so it seems like it's intended purpose was just to get McKay's attention back to himself because he had wandered too far into the room and away from him for Sheppard's comfort. But let's put a pin on the first thing he says in this episode because it is relevant for the final scene.

And again we may note that Sheppard is not resting his arm on the table where it would make a barrier between himself and McKay (in fact, and this sounds really saccharine, but like a flower turning toward the sun he juts out his face toward McKay as the moves). Sheppard isn't really resting his chin on his fist, he is once more rubbing the corner of his jaw in this auto-erotic fashion. And as soon as McKay starts moving, is gaze follows him. He's not looking at Zelenka, who is talking. He is watching McKay.

Also notice how McKay is impatient with Zelenka, they've clearly been spending so much time together in the lab that he is just done and has no forbearance to listen to him even though Zelenka is just trying to explain things that McKay left unexplained to the audience at large. He does not appreciate being interrupted by what he sees as inane comments. Whereas while Sheppard's comment had no purpose other than to connect with McKay by reminding him of the thing he said back when, McKay answers him in a completely different tone, a hint of excitement in his voice. He also leaves what he says open, giving Sheppard a clear space to say something back to him, perhaps even expected and wanted to hear what Sheppard had to say about what he said (because the two of them have this on-going conversation that may jump from topic to topic but is only ever on pause), but he is again interrupted by Zelenka.

Now, where McKay was standing while giving his presentation, Sheppard had clearly chosen the spot to sit that is closest to him and from where he could not even see the screen (it's possible that the smaller screens in front of everyone is showing the same thing as the main screen but what even is the point of the big screen that being the case?). He did have a really good view of McKay's backside from that vantage point, however.

Sheppard is not in his fatigues but is wearing a black shirt, less formal than his uniform. In the previous episode, we saw him wearing the shirt when he was practicing the Athosian martial art with Teyla so it's possible that he attended this meeting straight from doing something else. All the other military personnel are in their uniforms. It's also notable that he wears this black shirt for most of the episode so either we are meant to start thinking about him as "the man in black" (having just seen the Johnny Cash poster in the previous episode) because of what he does there at the end, or there is some other reason for which he eschews wearing the full uniform at this time. Sheppard also seemed to be lost in thought when we joined the meeting, distracted or zoned out, and it wasn't until McKay had walked further away to stand in front of Zelenka that he reacts to what McKay originally said.

Zelenka also manages to keep Sheppard and McKay from devolving into discussing the topic just between themselves, also clarifying to the audience points that McKay didn't deem worth explaining:

McKay: It is, but we think we've learned enough about how it works to bring it back. Zelenka: If we are right about what is wrong with it. McKay: Yes, of course if we're right about what's wrong with it! But if we're right, and it's just out of power, the Wraith have simply been ignoring it. Zelenka: Our preliminary estimates indicate a single naqahdah generator would be enough to bring it back online.

McKay walks back toward the screen and Sheppard seems to have a hard time drawing his eyes away from him. He is also doing this nervous motion with his fist, tightening and loosening it. Ford starts talking next to him and it takes him a moment to do the polite thing and turn his head to follow the conversation happening to his side. And even when it seems like Sheppard was asking Zelenka a question (who, again, was the one doing the talking), he looks up at McKay half-way through the question indicating that it was meant for him and not Zelenka. Or, he asked Zelenka the question but actually wanted the answer from McKay. His attention is on McKay.

Zelenka: Because those systems were designed to be powered by the Zero Point Module and the satellite isn't. Sheppard: And you think it's powerful enough to take out a Wraith hive ship? McKay: According to the Ancient database, it should be able to take out all three when fully charged.

McKay is looking hella good up there in his tight T-shirt showing off his biceps, though. Can't really blame the man for wanting to keep his eyes on this. Even Doctor Beefcake in the background is watching McKay. Whether it is because it seems like they finally have something to combat the wraith with, but McKay also sounds rather pleased as he is talking about the satellite to Sheppard. And so, in spite of Zelenka's valiant efforts, it does not take long at all for McKay and Sheppard to fall into their bubble and start talking to just each other even with the whole host of people present around them like they just suddenly shut all of them out. And even though they do this frequently, usually it is in smaller, more intimate meetings among people they both know very well. Here they are, doing the same song and dance, surrounded by all manner of people:

McKay: Keep in mind that the Ancient technology was far superior -- they only lost the war because they were vastly outnumbered. Sheppard: Well, we're vastly outnumbered!

Now, the episode seems to call back to The Defiant One in more ways than just the Ancient defensive satellite introduced in it now being one of the main features. While Sheppard was teaching McKay how to fly a jumper, "this baby," McKay made a reference to 'space pilot parlance'. Here, he makes a similar reference: "In military parlance, surprise… is an element on our side."

It's cute in that he is so obviously trying to impress Sheppard finishing his presentation with this saying but he realizes half-way through that he messed it up. What he says makes perfect sense but it is obviously not a known saying. Given that McKay has been thinking about leadership lately, it is of course possible that he has tried to brush up on military parlance and tactics, and we certainly see him improve in the use of weapons and to try to e.g., learn the tactical hand-signs--try being the operative word.

Now, the US Army Field Manual (which someone must have had with them) does refer to surprise, "Surprise can decisively shift the balance of combat power." McKay could be trying to refer to this. He might be referring to Sun Tzu's Art of War where he wrote: "Surprise will lead to victory. Those who are skilled in producing surprises will win." But most of all, what he says sounds a lot like what the character Zapp Branigan, the dashing captain that is a parody of James T. Kirk from the show Futurama (a "sister show" or companion series to The Simpsons, which was frequently referenced in SG-1) says: "The key to victory is the element of surprise." The line was used in the episode War is the H Word, which is a parody of several war in space stories and hence would be a fitting reference.

Regardless, McKay is embarrassed by botching up the quote. We don't see Sheppard's reaction to this, albeit he undoubtedly had one, where Weir decides to save him by sticking to business:

Weir: What do you need? McKay: The satellite's fifteen hours away by Puddle Jumper. I recommend that we put together a small crew--say myself, Grodin and a pilot. Sheppard: I'll go. Weir: No, Miller can handle it. Major, I need you to keep searching for alternate Alpha sites, just in case this fails.

Sheppard feigns a sigh like he's begrudgingly willing to go on this mission, twist his arm if you must, which might have had a better effect if he hadn't started talking before McKay had even finished saying he needed a pilot. McKay had also just pointed out that the trip takes 15 hours by puddle jumper so it appears as though he did not find the previous 15 hours he spent with McKay going both ways tedious. Sheppard really wanted to go and as Weir tells him no, he looks really upset about this. His face falls immediately. His first expression was feigned, the second one is visceral.

Clearly, he has decided that starting a civil strife in the middle of war preparations is a counter-productive thing to do and hence he defers to Weir's leadership when it really should be the other way around at this point. So he accepts her decision but you can see it on his face that letting McKay go on this quest alone bothers him. Make no mistake, he wanted to go with him. He did not volunteer because he has nothing better to do or because he's hankering for some action or because he might as well go.

There's an actual shadow that passes over him as he's having to think this over.

Weir also reminds him that this mission McKay is taking on is far from safe and Sheppard is clearly having thoughts relating to this. And notice that he does not respond to Weir. He doesn't say anything to Weir "expressing her need" which seemed to be like an order but still not an actual order. He's not acknowledging it, not even with an expression. He looks away from her. He seems to be seriously thinking over whether he actually will go along with this and whether he wants to be taking any orders from her at all at this point. Sure, finding another Alpha Site is important but for him everything that isn't McKay is a side quest.

Now, when people start filing out of the room, Sheppard hangs back. He draws the corners of his mouth back but it is not a smile so much as a grimace; he seems to be gritting his teeth, still unsure of what he should do here.* Weir also stays back to say some private words to McKay when everyone else has gone, and Sheppard waits for even her to leave before he gets up to go. He clearly waited to have a private moment with McKay, brief and stolen though it is. He also walks really close to him as he passes.

Weir: Well, Rodney, I don't mean to put any undue pressure, but at this moment, that satellite is the only thing standing between the Wraith and Atlantis. Sheppard: No undue pressure...

While all he does is repeat Weir's words to McKay, they still say so much more. He is not saying it to be flippant, he actually means the words that Weir just used as a platitude. The sarcastic tone he uses communicates that the two of them are a team that just got screwed by her. He reminds McKay that he really wanted to be there for him, to go there with him. That he knows there is much too much put on McKay's shoulders and he had wanted to carry some of it for him but now won't be able. That they both have heavy responsibilities but they are ultimately doing all of this for each other.

McKay files out of the room seeming to follow Sheppard. He is also not happy to be leaving without him. He just told all of them that they have so little time that they need to make every moment count but he didn't know that this, and what ever took place once they left the meeting room, would be all the time he has with Sheppard. They don't meet again for the rest of the episode.

Continued in Pt. 2

-* This could also be an expression of of pain as we have seen him display signs of something smarting him on two other occasions when he has had to get up from a seating position (Before I Sleep, The Brotherhood). The reason why this might be I leave for your imagination but I'll also draw attention to Sheppard's body-language with regards to McKay's line about "really slamming into it" in The Gift. Something like this could well be the natural result of one being well-endowed and the other in a perpetual state of hurry, but there may also be a number of reasons why he needs it to hurt, even beyond "you torture yourself every day, John." It makes you feel alive, tests the limits of pleasure, allows you to remember and carry the memory of them in your body through the lingering ache.

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

The Magnus Archives/ What We Do In the Shadows (Crossover)

gaslight gatekeep girlboss by thepolysyndetonaddictsupportgroup

"Look, believe it or not, I had no intention of killing the Vampiric Council when I came here,” declares Nadja, sitting alone on the couch. “But Guillermo and I arrived at the first council meeting and did the whole, you know, the whole thing, the first day thing. Introductions and all that, yes hello wonderful to meet you, yes this is my bodyguard, yes he has slaughtered a tremendous number of our kind”--she flaps her hand absently--“normal first day things, you know? It was fine.” She pauses. “It got really fucking weird on the second day."

Or: Nadja and Guillermo seize control of vampiric politics, puppeteer world powers, and have the hottest of hot girl summers.

Unfortunately, they also really miss the stupid assholes they're in love with. With no way left to find them, they have no choice but to consult an Archivist.

DC/Danny Phantom Crossover

Teenage Hero Burnout #56: Interview With A Ghost. by STOVE

Red Robin, (aka Tim Drake) decides to host a YouTube series called "Teenage Hero Burnout'' after he makes a video by the same name talking about his own experiences. He interviews current and past heroes who started their careers as teens and discuss how it shaped their outlook on heroing & life in general.

(This fic is a one-shot. Teenage Hero Burnout is a hypothetical series that I will not be writing, but others are welcome to write their own episodes.)

All For the Game

One More Time (With Feeling) by elesary

Andrew Minyard went to sleep next to Neil Josten in their bed in Denver six years after graduation. He woke up on plane to Tucson between Wymack and Kevin, on their way to recruit Neil Josten, striker sub.

boyfriend privileges by mostly_maudlin

Andrew knows he treats Neil different. So why is it so bothersome that everyone else seems to know it, too?

Five times Neil gets boyfriend privileges, and one time it doesn't piss Andrew off.

SVSSS

The Peace Between Divine Pec- ah-hm sorry - uh…Peaks by AceOfDivineChlorophyll

Well, being kidnapped and tied up had to be the worst part of Shen Qingqiu's day right? Surely it couldn't get worse even if he was being presented to some new and upcoming demonic warlord as tribute after all it would all be mote when Luo Binghe escaped the Endless Abyss right? Well... unless the demonic warlord in question WAS Luo Binghe.

Thankfully... it might not end up going at all how he, or the demons, thought it was going to.

invasive blindfold removal surgery by postcardorigami

Part 1 of side effects may include indefinite photosensitivity

Oh, he thought absently, dizzily. Oh. I love him. I really, really love him.

That wasn’t a new thought—Shen Qingqiu had always known that he loved Luo Binghe. Thinking otherwise wasn’t a concept that had occurred to him. He’d loved him as a fictional character, as a sticky and eager-to-please disciple, as a troubled young man. He loved Luo Binghe the same way he loved the world around him: easily, wordlessly, endlessly, and in full acceptance of all faults and flaws.

But this- this felt like-

I think, Shen Qingqiu thought, for the first time in this life or the one he’d left, I think I’m in love with him.

And- and then-

I want to tell him where I come from.

or Shen Qingqiu, in order: hits the ground, pulls himself back up, and comes out. About several things.

Dreaming of Gardens in the Desert Sand by TGP

Huan Hua Palace master Luo Binghe never thought there'd be any reason to worry about the master that threw him away all those years ago. Surely, he was safe and cared for by the martial siblings he'd so thoroughly enamored.

Luo Binghe was wrong.

(Or, the one where the Jinlan City event doesn't happen and Luo Binghe's plan to slowly show he can be a righteous cultivator actually goes as he expected, with consequences he did not)

starry-eyed by shoutowo

"Shi-Shizun,” Luo Binghe says, going cross-eyed in an effort to see what Shen Qingqiu just placed on his forehead. “What is this?”

“A star,” Shen Qingqiu explains, while not explaining at all.

or, Shen Qingqiu has a sticker sheet.

Clone Wars

(you were) meant to save them by cjwritesfanficnow

The building was only five stories. With the gravity on Melida/Daan, it should’ve been over in seconds... but he—

just—

kept—

falling—

And then there was nothing around him, but he was still falling, down down down, infinitely, through space, stretched thin, twisted and pulled and the Force curled so tightly around him that he couldn’t tell where he ended and it began, and then—

And then he was falling straight out of a clear sky and down down down—

Onto another battlefield.

-

In which Obi-Wan is abruptly transported from the civil war on Melida/Daan to the Clone Wars.

(Alternately, in which I noticed how few clones there are in all my other fics, and this wouldn't leave me alone.)

Tactical Engagements by elwenyere

Even before he managed to open his eyes, Obi-Wan felt the tug against the base of his neck, the snarled thread of energy that only ever meant one thing: something had gone very, very wrong.

-----

Or, Cody, Obi-Wan, and the 212th are sent to Ringo Vinda with Anakin and the 501st, and it changes the field of engagement.

[adm-starblitzsteel-4305]

To be honest...

Ma. Celestina (OC) as Sailor Godzilla and Sailor Mothra

😳😉

Full description is here because I am tired of typing sheeesh.

There's a new ability I introduced for all of you guys:

"Titan Up! (insert Kaiju transformation)"

It is a mixed of Godzilla and Sailor Moon style I created. So how does it acquired with such magic?

I started the small concept about a small fusion: supposedly there was a girl who likewise have a powers like Godzilla and her transformation into a Godzilla themed style plus sailor fuku, but then I thought about this small concept will be the main course.

If you remember my human OC and main protagonist of POTM - Ma. Celestina (Celestia is her alias): yes, SHE is the ONE who will acquire the power of her Titan parents (Godzilla and Mothra) and with the Cosmic Brooch's superstitious magic. She can allow herself to transform into a magical superheroine girl.

BACKSTORY BEFORE MONSTERVERSE:

On the prelude of Sailor V, Ma. Celestina meets Minako Aino alongside Artemis who likewise senses her powers the same as Minako (who is the superheroine beauty called Sailor V), she allows herself to become a superheroine beauty like Sailor V, under the name as Sailor C. The two worked together to vanquished supernatural evils who steals energies of humans before Artemis reveals that they will have to find the other Sailor Guardians like themselves because he explains that Minako is the long lost Moon Princess of the Silver Millenium and that she wields the mystical Silver Crystal, which is the main reason why the Dark Kingdom was after for it. Minako posed herself as a student on Juuban High School (Usagi's school) while Ma. Celestina continues to search the Silver Crystal while gathering information about the Dark Kingdom's leader.

The two eventually met the other Sailor Guardians: Sailors Moon, Mercury, Mars, and Jupiter, alongside a black cat named Luna, before they joined into many adventures and battles they encountered (I used the Sailor Moon Crystal Seasons 1 to 3).

After the battle with Pharaoh 90, Ma. Celestina coincides about staying with the Sailor Guardians, but her quest was not complete yet. She asked Sailors Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto to watch over Hotaru Tomoe (known as Sailor Saturn) while she is away, giving baby Hotaru a necklace emblazed a topaz star pendant, promising to return back from her adventures as they depart.

Ma. Celestina is currently absent on the events of Sailor Moon Eternal and Sailor Moon Cosmos.

IN MONSTERVERSE:

Short prequel from after the events of POTM, the now 18 years old Ma. Celestina - who is given a name Astra II after her Titan incarnated past - adjusts her life as a Princess and normal life with Godzilla and Mothra, her newly adoptive family alongside Mothra Leo and the reformed Titan-turned-human Battra. What's more even interesting is that her Cosmic Brooch allows its user to fused a being that is incredibly powerful. Astra II spliced Godzilla's radioactive heat ray and Mothra's cyan bioluminiscent dusts from her mystic celestial magic, allowing it to combined the power as one because she is a part human and part Titan.

As Sailor Godzilla, she wields a Radioactive Titan Staff which produces an immense amount of heat ray and conjuring a powerful god-like aspects (think about Sailor Saturn's Death Reborn Revolution, but much more powerful). It is also noted that whenever she feels angry, there's a certain transformation about becoming a Godzilla genes due to heredity that is not awakened in time. This is her yell:

"TITAN UP! GODZILLA!"

"I bring balance and justice to those who opposed the Earth! Sailor Godzilla! Here to fight, and bow before your Ruler!"

As Sailor Mothra, she wields a double-bladed katana engraved with gems and a symbol of Mothra (like Mothra's limbs). She can also created a similar god rays like Mothra to erased the storms, and a magical song to target the enemies' old pasts about their loved ones in order to surrender, or to fight. She is capable of using silk attack to struck opponents. Note that her moth wings has Mothra's patterns, but much likely resembles Ma. Celestina's moth wings. Her majestic form is alluring to humans and Titans. Plus, Mothra's ancient song can be played by two of Ma. Celestina's new Twin Priestesses, but added a bit magical to express the devotion of the Stars. Her yell:

"TITAN UP! MOTHRA"

"I am the Goddess of Peace, Giver of Life, and Protector of the Earth. A King needs his Queen. I, Sailor Mothra, shall cast forth upon your evil deed! Bow before your Ruler!"

So, what do you think of my OC's transformation?

And that's it. I hope you like my fusion as both Sailor Moon style and Godzilla style.

If I ever fused Rodan and Ghidorah, then that's my promise.

I don't own any Godzilla and Sailor Moon Characters. They all belong to their respective owners and rights.

I only own my OCs.

Game:

Sailor Moon Dress Up on Dolldivine.

[science-lings]

I've been thinking a lot about Phoenix's family, and I got carried away so I'm going to put the whole essay below the cut, I'm so normal about him

I'm sorry there's just no way that Phoenix has any sort of normal family situation, not just because they're never mentioned even in passing as he goes through extremely major life events, but also because of how he is as a person. You cannot convince me that the guy who fell head over heels for Dahlia two seconds after meeting her had any sort of reliable support system in his life. When she got arrested the only person he could think about was a guy he hadn't seen since they were both nine instead of any current person who would likely care that he almost got poisoned and arrested for murder.

While I think it would be nice if he had lesbian moms who loved him, it just doesn't quite fit in with what we know about Phoenix. I mean, even in the WAA/WTA the only photograph on display is Zak's, and if there isn't a better person to put on the wall than the biological father of his daughter who abandoned her, that's pretty sad. (though I personally like to think that his portrait was there specifically as a target for things like darts and throwing knives). Plus, we already know from the thing with Dahlia that Phoenix's primary way of dealing with trauma and abusive people is just to pretend nothing happened and force himself to forget about them.

That's not even mentioning this guy's abandonment issues and complete willingness to adopt anyone he finds into his found family with zero hesitation. He meets Ema once for a few days, someone he has no personal connection to, but because she reminded him of Maya he stays in contact with her at some capacity to the point that he keeps her investigative tools with him and can have his name be used to gain her favor. Also, there's that new years art where she gets drunk with the Wright's and Apollo. And there are several more young adults/teenagers like that, he's got that foster kid to foster dad energy.

What I think makes the most sense is either that he was given up for adoption/ was an orphan in the foster care system who was passed around a lot, never getting too attached to one family, which led to his abandonment issues, or that he had a normal family life until something happened that estranged them from him. As a staunch believer in Transmasc Phoenix my thoughts are that he had transphobic parents so when he left for university he cut them off and changed his full name which explains why he is so desperate for emotional connection at that time. He suddenly has no one but a dream to find Miles and a girlfriend whose red flags he's completely blind to.

But honestly, there are so many reasons that people could come up with that would also make sense for his character. Maybe they were emotionally abusive and since everyone around him has dead or horrifically bad parents he's just not going to ever bring it up because who is he to complain when his besties are Maya Fey and Miles Edgeworth. Maybe they were just absent a lot and he had to take care of himself (and perhaps younger siblings) until he just couldn't take it anymore. Maybe they just tried to get him a girlfriend to settle down with one too many times and he just refuses to visit them, not even on holidays like Christmas or new years. It's just fascinating to me that there's absolutely nothing about them, I think there was even one of those little (official?) comics that poked fun at the fact that he doesn't really have parents, he may not even know who they are.

I also stand behind all of the ideas from my Phoenix Family HCs Poll because all of them would be so fun to explore even if some of them are total crack HCs. Tigre is only 16 years older than Phoenix but you can't say it's not possible that he messed around in high school and his girlfriend just gave up the kid for adoption and it would be so funny if Phoenix had to put his own father into prison after he pretended to be him.

In my Fem!Phoenix AU where I'm planning on expounding upon her relationship with the Feys and her own spiritual power (Phoenix does canonically talk to ghosts sometimes), the spirit of Ryunosuke found her and kind of became her imaginary friend who appears sometimes because I love him.

Even the idea of the goddess of law making him as an indestructible little terror on the legal system would be fascinating to expand upon. I would love to read about the whole concept of law being turned into a kind of religion, is she a single omniscient god (is she single?) or is she part of a larger pantheon? What would that mean for Phoenix?

I just can't even fathom that there's something normal going on with Phoenix and his family, I think he should pull an Apollo and secretly have the most batshit family backstory. Just looking at this guy and you know he has some kinds of issues, he was an art/theater major, he's got to be a little bit of that flavor of fucked up.

[thepastisalreadywritten]

By Simmone Shah

29 February 2024

While Catherine Middleton has been absent from royal duties for two months due to a “planned abdominal surgery,” the British public has been full of speculation about what's going on with their future Queen Consort.

But the royal family has always held a fine line between balancing private health matters with disclosure to the public they serve.

“You could argue that details about a head of state are in the public interest,” says Richard Fitzwilliams, an expert on the royal family.

“But on the other hand, to what extent does a public figure have a right to privacy?”

Catherine's absence fits into a long and evolving history of how royals have chosen to handle health issues.

Past generations often shrouded them in secrecy. Perhaps most famously, in the 1950s, the British public was not told when King George VI had lung cancer.

In 1951, he had his left lung removed because of what was vaguely described as “structural abnormalities," and cancer was not mentioned in his death announcement.

Occasionally, past generations would be more open about less significant problems.

Once in 1982, when Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Mother, had to visit the hospital after nearly choking to death on a fishbone, she issued a statement to the press, joking, “It was only the salmon getting its own back."

“The fishbone is quite revealing because they tended to be more open about minor instances,” says Gareth Russell, a historian and author who focuses on the British royal family.

“Britain was a much more reserved society in the 20th century, and in families across the land and across the social spectrum, cancer or fatal illnesses often weren't discussed.”

Catherine and William’s approach has proved to be starkly different, as they’ve addressed private matters with far more candor.

“Catherine and William are members of a different generation, so they feel no shame in being open about challenges,” says Clare McHugh, a royal historian and author.

Neither Catherine or William have shied away in the past from speaking out about health matters.

Prince William has spoken extensively about the importance of mental health, and Catherine spoke about the difficult morning sickness she faced during her pregnancies.

She also revealed her postpartum baby bump in photos hours after giving birth to her son, Prince George.

In part, it’s a necessary tactic for the internet age in which secrets are much harder to keep.

“I think they do recognize that in order to survive and flourish in a modern era they need to be honest about what is going on with them,” says McHugh.

“It’s better for them to be candid up front rather than let internet rumors fly.”

That they have previously been somewhat transparent only makes their current silence stand out, experts say.

“That’s why William and Catherine’s reticence about what's going on with them is odd,” says McHugh.

As Kathryn Lamontagne, a lecturer in Social Science at Boston University says, sometimes saying nothing causes more of a stir than addressing the problem head on, a lesson the Royal Family learned when Queen Elizabeth II missed parts of a major event in the months before her death.

“For Royal followers, her absence from the Platinum Jubilee celebrations in 2022 was a glaring sign of how unwell she was and a clear indicator of a serious issue on the horizon,” Lamontagne said in an email.

Still, despite her candor in the past, in many ways the Duchess of Cambridge’s silence is simply following tradition.

“This dance between private and public information nudges the line of medical privacy and a public clamoring for details, but it still follows the pattern of giving very few medical details of a certain kind to the public,” says Lamontagne.

“‘Never complain, never explain,’ in the words of the late Queen.”

[acourtofthought]

The Magic of Restoring a Land

While Elain and Lucien both have homes, SJM seems to be hinting that those current homes are a temporary thing:

(not to mention Elain was notably absent in the crossover)

Combine those hints with the following:

and it seems clear to me where Elucien's journey will be taking them.

I am enamoured at the thought of Elucien as High Lord and Lady as Day but I struggle to see it anytime soon because of Helion being such an important character to Rhys, to the LOA, and hopefully Lucien.

I wonder if SJM was being sly with the wording above:

"permanently station him at the Spring Court"

"The Spring Court had been made for someone like her"

What if she literally just told us that Lucien will permanently remain in Spring? In ACOFAS we know he wanted to return to living there but was unable to because of the lies Feyre spread. What if his good name was restored and it could once again be his home? What if he and Elain could turn it into the court he once hoped life in Tamlin’s court would be? I'm sure centuries down the line he'll play his part in Day (he could even travel there as emissary while living in Spring) but until then, Lucien isn't the type to sit and wait around to do something. And even Feyre said, "you enjoyed its pleasures and diversions. But don’t pretend you weren’t made for something more than that.” He's never going to be someone who waits for something to do, he wants purpose.

Also, when something is made for someone, there's a sense of belonging associated with the phrasing.

It wasn’t a guarantee that a High Lord’s firstborn would be his heir. The magic sometimes took a while to decide, and often jumped around the birth order completely. Sometimes it found a cousin instead. Sometimes it abandoned the bloodline entirely. Or chose the heir in that moment of birth, in the echoes of a newborn’s first cries.

“There are no High Ladies.” His brows furrowed, but he shook his head. “We’ll talk about that later, too. But yes, Feyre—there can be High Ladies. And perhaps you aren’t one of them, but … what if you were something similar?

I know some feel Elain can't be chosen as High Lady but why? Rhys tells us there can be High Ladies and just because there hasn't been one prior to the series doesn't mean it can't happen now that the Archeron sisters are having their stories told. Rhys made Feyre his High Lady so she wasn't exactly chosen by the magic but Feyre is still unlike anything that ever existed before. Elain as High Lady does not negate that Rhys and Feyre will most likely remain the most powerful fae in their lands.

Tamlin never wanted to be High Lord, it was never a fitting role for him, what if the magic always knew he was simply a place holder until the "moment of Elain's birth"?

What if Elain is made High Lady of Spring and Lucien stays by her side as interim High King (until the war is over)?

A major problem that Feyre and Nesta have when it comes to Elain is holding her back from doing more, from being unable to imagine her in certain situations. But I wonder if all the things they once doubted will come to pass-

I’d do it mostly to keep Elain from ever going to the Spring Court (a hint that Elain WILL end up in the Spring Court?)

I shook my head, trying not to imagine Elain subject to that … fire. (a hint that Elain WILL end up with Lucien and possibly perform in Fire Night with him?)

"Elain would faint to hear such thoughts." (Fire Night is very voyeuristic event, imagine if she were the main act?)

Being this is the current state of the Spring Court and it's manor -

Distant—because on the estate, nothing bloomed at all. The pink roses that had once climbed the pale stone walls of the sweeping manor house were nothing but tangled webs of thorns. The fountains had gone dry, the hedges untrimmed and shapeless. The house itself had looked better the day after Amarantha’s cronies had trashed it. Not for any visible signs of destruction, but for the general quiet. The lack of life.

A tomb. This place was a tomb.

No whisper of sound behind him. On any acre of this estate. Not even a note of birdsong.

Hunting for dinner—because there were no servants here to make food. Or buy it.

And though he roams these lands, he does not see or care for the neglect he passes, the lawlessness, the vulnerability.

- it seems so fitting that Elain and Lucien, two characters who are full of light and sunshine, who are extremely social, who make friends wherever they go and are able to convince anyone to do anything with their words, would be able to restore Spring with not only their personalities but the magic of their union.

"the magic that we create helps regenerate the land for the year ahead.”

With Elucien, the Spring Court could again be a place of light and happiness, filled with laughter and sound and as a result, a place of strength and an ally for the rest of Prythian.

[tanzdoesthings]

Fresh Air

this is for an au in collaboration with with @mothsakura and also i believe @ardienothesieno has some input as well? either way they’re both great and fun to talk ideas with. baseline info you need is that iterators walk in their cities, with massive facilities underneath the ground level. also some details on fathoms’ ID is not actually settled now, but the writing is what matters anyways lmao.

The heavy door closes behind Fathoms, quietly as to not draw attention to the fact that the person being celebrated at the gala was suddenly absent from the event. She takes a breath of the fresh air, cooling her systems and letting it out as a sigh, shoulders lowering as she let the uptight posture fade away. The nice thing about having such a large event is that she wasn't expected to be working much at all over the next two cycles. Less pleasant is the constant talking, touching, and interacting she must do with her citizens and other councils. They all want to know why she's so special, how she can do everything, what does it feel like to be so perfect? Those questions, she lets her council answer. Fathoms can't give the answer they want, and all this sensory input is making her overwhelmed. So much data, and she's too far from her neurons to process properly. Therefore, she quietly let herself out.

She was not expecting another iterator to be there, One that she does not recognize. They are sitting near a patch of greenery, picking at the rocks lining the plants. It is clear this iterator did not hear Fathoms walk out, so she tries to catch their attention. "Hello?" Fathoms asks, standing a few paces away.

"Oh- hello?" the stranger answers, turning to look at her. They have a handful of pebbles, clearly picking through the pile to find... something. "You're an iterator! I heard there was supposed to be a lot of them around tonight!" They stand, bringing the assortment of stones to Fathoms. Now that they're standing, she has a much better view of them. They stand just a bit shorter than her, antennas a similar length, though tilted back and decorated with an assortment of little stones and sparkly things. They wore a caplet over a robe, rather standard and simple for iterators. Certainly not an outfit for a gala, and they looked like a river stone compared to her bright pinkish-red hues and sparkling white pearls.

"Look-" they continued talking, "The pebbles here are very nice! See the stripes?"

She had noticed, in the times she had taken breaks out here. She always notices. "Yes, they are quite nice." Fathoms says, looking over the ones they had picked out.

They grab one particularly round one, holding it up. It seems that this is when they truly notice what she looks like. "Woah!" they gasp, dropping the stone. "You are really dressed up! Is it for that meeting-thing? My current admin was all shiny today too."

"Yes, there is a gala tonight. It's very noisy in there, I must admit. Why aren't you attending?" she says gently, hands folded in front of her.

They wave their hand, shaking their head at the same time. "I'm not exactly supposed to be out of the train. It's okay!"

Fathoms was taken aback by this information, but kept moving along. "What's your name? I'm Fathoms of Dreams, she/her. 489."

"Woah-! We're really close in number! I'm 492!" They exclaim, bouncing a little. "They/them, no name yet!"

She tilts her head. "No name? We're so close in age, how do you not have a name yet?"

The nameless iterator shrugs, keeping their demeanor the same. "I keep going from council to council. Nobody has taken care of me long enough to get a name, you know?”

It's a tragedy to Fathoms, but she doesn't voice this concern. Instead, she offers a hand to them, and leads them to a bench. The two sit, overlooking Fathoms' city. The council house is atop a hill, whereas the rest of the city slopes down what was once a lake, now reduced by a large amount to the center of rows and rows of buildings. The lights on each block sparkle in the night, and by the sounds of it, the whole city is using the gala as an excuse to party. The nameless one gasps in awe, sitting and swinging their legs next to Fathoms.

They deserve something nice, Fathoms thinks. She pulls off one of the bracelets given to her for the gala, a simpler one, made with a string running through a pale pink pearl. When she brushes her hands against the pearl, she gets a brief glimpse of the data written to it, around the holes drilled for the string. It's a prayer of well being, rather standard. She taps her new friend's hand, and they perk up, looking at her. Delicately, she takes their hand, slipping the bracelet on. The nameless one beams, as if Fathoms had just moved the whole world for them. Her eyes crinkle in a smile, watching them admire the bracelet.

"Are you serious? You're just giving this to me?" they whisper-shout, one hand on the pearl.

Fathoms nods, and they practically leap to hug her. She breathes in sharply, and this reaction immediately makes them loosen their grip, looking at her. "It's okay- I'm fine, just wasn't expecting... that," she reassures them.

They shift to instead lean against her, watching the city and running their fingers on the pearl. "I'll get you the best gift ever. I'm the greatest at that!"

"I'm sure. You had a good eye for those stones, you know?"

They nod, excitedly, with so much more energy than Fathoms has ever had. A moment of watching the city, and then they speak again. "Why are you at that big meeting anyways?"

That snaps Fathoms back into the reality of her situation. "It's a celebration. The city we are in is celebrating their iterator and the technological progress," she states.

"Wow. Did you meet them? A party so big must be for someone really interesting!"

Her hands grab the fabric of her dress, silky between her bio-mechanical fingers. "It's... for me." The other iterator stares at her with wide eyes, but she continues. "I'm very experimental. I can process very fast, but there are issues. There's a team of mechanics on hand 24/7 in my memory arrays and main bus, making sure my structure doesn't collapse. The whole city is on top of it. The day it does give up... won't be pretty."

"How can there be a party when there's so many problems to fix?" they ask, watching Fathoms.

"Politics, I suppose. I look finished, therefore I am." A pale pink, nearly white overseer darts up to the two, and at the sight of it Fathoms sits up straight, gripping her dress more tightly. They notice, glancing down to look at it. Her breathing sharpens, and she stands up quickly. They shuffle, following her movements.

"You need to leave, go back to your train. Now," she whispers, pushing the nameless one back towards the way they came from. "Follow this overseer."

Thank the void, the unnamed iterator follows her instructions, disappearing around a corner. She only has a moment to smooth her dress before another iterator walks up behind her.

"Fathoms." She knows that voice. She could never mistake that voice for another. "Leaving your own party now?" She turns, and is greeted by her sibling, Ink Run Dry, leaned against the wall. They tilt their head, not amused with the task at hand. "Get back inside. There's some kind of speech soon. I want a good vantage point, but of course, when you disappear, I'm the person they call. You're always back here. I don't know why it's my problem."

"Yes, of course." Fathoms answers curtly, leading the two back inside, away from the fresh air, from the nameless one, from the momentary peace.