#this was such a fantastic choice to end his life like this

[dekariosclan]

Sneaky God Gale Still Loves You

I want to take a moment to offer some reassurance to any of my fellow Galemancers who got the worst Gale romance ending—the infamous ‘Sneaky God Gale.’ (credit to @airydandelion, who I believe first coined the term and who did a ton of valuable research as noted at the end of this post!)

This ending happens when you think you’ve convinced Gale not to ascend. You turned down his offer for godhood in the boat! You didn’t push him towards the crown at all (or so you thought)! And most importantly, he seemed convinced!!

Then you get to the ending on the docks and suddenly he’s all: “that crown tho…🥵” And he leaves.

Worst of all, he won’t even offer to ascend you at the epilogue party.

So what gives?!

Putting aside that this happens because 1. There are some extremely subtle and not-great dialogue options pushing him towards the crown which should’ve been better written/more obvious, and 2. Gale ‘I’m-many-things-but-not-coy’ Dekarios should have been clearly displaying his intentions towards the crown in order to give fair warning to the player, I do still think we can explain his behavior.

The most important thing to remember is that he is not gaslighting you! He’s not smooching you and giving you those big lovey cow eyes while smugly thinking about how he’s going to dump you.

When Gale offers you godhood in the boat, it’s literally called the ‘Be My God Proposal’ in the data files. It’s a proposal. And what a proposal! Because he’s not just offering you a marriage where it’s a short span of mortal years together until death. He’s offering you a literal eternity together.

…and you turned him down.

You did it for all the right reasons, your heart was in the right place, BUT…Gale is uncertain. He loves you, but do you really love him? Just him? He’s still not sure he’s enough for you. You weren’t vehemently against the crown, you seemed to waffle. And you turned down his proposal…an eternity with him was something you did not wish for…

So when he gets to the brain stem, and then the docks, and he still feels uncertainty in his heart, well—it makes him very easily swayed by the orb’s hunger for the crown.

But he still loves you.

When you get to the epilogue, he doesn’t offer you ascension for the simple reason that you already turned it down. He respects your choice, and he’s not going to try and coax you into it; your desires are different than his, and that makes a life together impossible.

But he still loves you.

Well, but, you argue, why can’t we be together as a mortal and a god? Like Gale was with Mystra?

He would never expose you to such risk, because he still loves you.

‘Ok fine,’ you say. ‘Sure, he’s still got his kind heart buried underneath the arrogance. But even so, he chose to leave. There’s no absolute, definitive proof that he still loves me!’

Sneaky God Gale absolutely, 100%, still loves you! So go do yourself (and him) a favor and fix that ending:

You can use this amazing, incredible, fantastic guide created by @airydandelion to ensure you pick the right dialogue choices to get the Gale ending you want!

If you are on a PC and do not want to go back many hours of gameplay to replay/redo the dialogue choices, you can use this mod to convince Gale to stay human with the dice roll at the brain stem.

If you’re on a PS5 (which does not currently have the above mod) my best suggestion is to use the cheaters ring. This is a PS5 mod that essentially lets you cheese all combat and speedrun the game, saving you a ton of time if you need to replay Act 3 in order to get your human Gale.

Whatever you decide to do, you can go forth secure in the knowledge that Gale was 100% truthful when he told you this:

(One final shoutout: credit to @galebrainrott for their post sharing Gale’s datamined files!)

[porterdavis]

A great long read from Tom Nichols of The Atlantic:

“Democrats and liberal pundits are already trying to figure out how the Trump campaign not only bested Kamala Harris in the “Blue Wall” states of the Midwest and the Rust Belt, but gained on her even in areas that should have been safe for a Democrat. Almost everywhere, Donald Trump expanded his coalition, and this time, unlike in 2016, he didn’t have to thread the needle of the Electoral College to win: He can claim the legitimacy of winning the popular vote.

Trump’s opponents are now muttering about the choice of Tim Walz, the influence of the Russians, the role of the right-wing media, and whether President Joe Biden should not have stepped aside in favor of Harris. Even the old saw about “economic anxiety” is making a comeback.

These explanations all have some merit, but mostly, they miss the point. Yes, some voters still stubbornly believe that presidents magically control the price of basic goods. Others have genuine concerns about immigration and gave in to Trump’s booming call of fascism and nativism. And some of them were just never going to vote for a woman, much less a Black woman.

But in the end, a majority of American voters chose Trump because they wanted what he was selling: a nonstop reality show of rage and resentment. Some Democrats, still gripped by the lure of wonkery, continue to scratch their heads over which policy proposals might have unlocked more votes, but that was always a mug’s game. Trump voters never cared about policies, and he rarely gave them any. (Choosing to be eaten by a shark rather than electrocuted might be a personal preference, but it’s not a policy.) His rallies involved long rants about the way he’s been treated, like a giant therapy session or a huge family gathering around a bellowing, impaired grandpa.

Back in 2021, I wrote a book about the rise of “illiberal populism,” the self-destructive tendency in some nations that leads people to participate in democratic institutions such as voting while being hostile to democracy itself, casting ballots primarily to punish other people and to curtail everyone’s rights—even their own. These movements are sometimes led by fantastically wealthy faux populists who hoodwink gullible voters by promising to solve a litany of problems that always seem to involve money, immigrants, and minorities. The appeals from these charlatans resonate most not among the very poor, but among a bored, relatively well-off middle class, usually those who are deeply uncomfortable with racial and demographic changes in their own countries.

And so it came to pass: Last night, a gaggle of millionaires and billionaires grinned and applauded for Trump. They were part of an alliance with the very people another Trump term would hurt—the young, minorities, and working families among them.

Trump, as he has shown repeatedly over the years, couldn’t care less about any of these groups. He ran for office to seize control of the apparatus of government and to evade judicial accountability for his previous actions as president. Once he is safe, he will embark on the other project he seems to truly care about: the destruction of the rule of law and any other impediments to enlarging his power.

Americans who wish to stop Trump in this assault on the American constitutional order, then, should get it out of their heads that this election could have been won if only a better candidate had made a better pitch to a few thousand people in Pennsylvania. Biden, too old and tired to mount a proper campaign, likely would have lost worse than Harris; more to the point, there was nothing even a more invigorated Biden or a less, you know, female alternative could have offered. Racial grievances, dissatisfaction with life’s travails (including substance addiction and lack of education), and resentment toward the villainous elites in faraway cities cannot be placated by housing policy or interest-rate cuts.

No candidate can reason about facts and policies with voters who have no real interest in such things. They like the promises of social revenge that flow from Trump, the tough-guy rhetoric, the simplistic “I will fix it” solutions. And he’s interesting to them, because he supports and encourages their conspiracist beliefs. (I knew Harris was in trouble when I was in Pennsylvania last week for an event and a fairly well-off business owner, who was an ardent Trump supporter, told me that Michelle Obama had conspired with the Canadians to change the state’s vote tally in 2020. And that wasn’t even the weirdest part of the conversation.)

As Jonathan Last, editor of The Bulwark, put it in a social-media post last night: The election went the way it did “because America wanted Trump. That’s it. People reaching to construct [policy] alibis for the public because they don’t want to grapple with this are whistling past the graveyard.” Last worries that we might now be in a transition to authoritarianism of the kind Russia went through in the 1990s, but I visited Russia often in those days, and much of the Russian democratic implosion was driven by genuinely brutal economic conditions and the rapid collapse of basic public services. Americans have done this to themselves during a time of peace, prosperity, and astonishingly high living standards. An affluent society that thinks it is living in a hellscape is ripe for gulling by dictators who are willing to play along with such delusions.

The bright spot in all this is that Trump and his coterie must now govern. The last time around, Trump was surrounded by a small group of moderately competent people, and these adults basically put baby bumpers and pool noodles on all the sharp edges of government. This time, Trump will rule with greater power but fewer excuses, and he—and his voters—will have to own the messes and outrages he is already planning to create.

Those voters expect that Trump will hurt others and not them. They will likely be unpleasantly surprised, much as they were in Trump’s first term. (He was, after all, voted out of office for a reason.) For the moment, some number of them have memory-holed that experience and are pretending that his vicious attacks on other Americans are just so much hot air.

Trump, unfortunately, means most of what he says. In this election, he has triggered the unfocused ire and unfounded grievances of millions of voters. Soon we will learn whether he can still trigger their decency—if there is any to be found.

[fan-of-chaos]

This is such a poetic end for him.

From the most selfish beginning to the most selfless end.

[tiny-smallest]

Sonic Movie Universe prediction: Robotnik is an orphan because of GUN

I think what was supposed to be, tonally, a silly throwaway line is actually winding up to punch us in the face later.

Bear with me.

I barely remember the first movie since it was so long since I watched it, but aside from one, maybe two, of the comic universes, this line is the first time we have ever gotten anything at all about Ivo Robotnik's personal backstory. And it's that he's an orphan. In a story series that explicitly sets him up with a human identity- none of that Eggman stuff as his identity, not even a whisper of the name until it's a silly insult Sonic throws out later- this movie bothers to give him a Normal Human Society Firstname Lastname and a job.

(Okay, so Robotnik isn't exactly a normal human surname. But it's established canon that is the family name so. Suspension of disbelief.)

A series that we know will later delve, at least a little, into the story of Professor Gerald Robotnik WHO IVO APPARENTLY, ACTUALLY, DEFINITELY KNEW IN THIS CONTINUITY, AS HE HAS A SPECIFIC GRANDPA NAME FOR HIM AND NEARLY CRIES.

The original line was a ridiculous rebuttal to Tom during the fight in the house during the first movie. "Rub that in my orphan face," he says in response to Tom sharing a detail of his childhood during Silly Action Scene Banter. While there is a sort of tension there since the movie universe makes no bones about Sonic being an actual child and he is confirmed to be an alien, thus making the danger present of government capture and experimentation very real and kind of horrific, the scene as it plays out isn't overly out of character for something you'd expect in a Sonic movie. And although Robotnik is the threat here, he plays a large part in also keeping the scene lighthearted because of how utterly he fails to respond like a normal human being to literally anything. The comment about being an orphan at least makes sense based on what Tom said, but it's still weirdly personal and, therefore, kind of inappropriate to say. Like dude back up you're trying to kill a child why are you sharing your trauma with me that's uncomfortable.

Which brings me to the obvious point of that line- it's not just to make the scene funny, it's to show us how set apart from other humans Robotnik is. This is a man who has no idea how to interact with anyone, like, absolutely nobody, and every single scene he's in reminds us of this, including this one.

Now that the third movie has explicitly drawn a line between Shadow's backstory and themes of pain and loss, and we see Gerald Robotnik weeping over what I think is Maria's body in the aftermath of the murder (jesus that's dark) I have to connect a few dots of my own.

The first movie had another piece of foreshadowing they threw at us, this one way more obvious: at the end of the first movie, a government agent is sent to speak with the Wachowski couple. He tells them that Ivo Robotnik has been thoroughly erased from existence. As far as any documentation of him ever existing on Planet Earth, there is none. He hasn't merely disappeared- it's like he never was.

If they did this to Ivo after this catastrophe it's not a stretch to think they did the same with Professor Gerald. Hell, I thought that after movie number one. "That has to come up later- we have a character the government explicitly turns on in this series. Like, as a major plot point. The defining moment in several characters' stories. No way does their ability to erase someone not come up later."

But now I think they went a step further.

They've already murdered a little girl and broken an old man in their efforts to contain the genius they were frightened of.

Personally, I don't think it's a stretch to think that Ivo Robotnik, very young himself at the time most likely, is an orphan because GUN decided to eradicate the entire family line in an effort to prevent anyone like Gerald Robotnik from ever existing again.

Except. The son survived. Well shit. Uh. Stick him in an orphanage and keep an eye on him, I guess.

And where does he end up as a adult? A branch of the government. Where they can keep an eye on him.

(More than that, if they did erase Gerald, Ivo clearly remembers him... so Ivo may have joined them specifically to look for traces of the grandfather he knows existed and who doesn't seem to have any records proving that whatsoever. But that's Ivo's motivations and we're talking about GUN's, so, moving on.)

It's likely based on his sheer intellect, assuming Ivo wasn't embellishing too heavily, that he didn't have to grow for very long before that brilliance was obvious. Though the government's decision to let him live was strategic, weighing the gamble of assassination with the gamble of him inheriting the genius and deciding that risking him having the same genius as his grandfather was better than trying to kill him at this point, the gambit ultimately failed. Even though he was more than likely still only a child, they'd let him live too long. In just a few short years he quickly became a very real threat to the government- as in, if given a reason, he could be a very real threat. And nothing Ivo does is ever subtle or quiet, so his genius was probably very loud, and there was likely lots of attention, making an assassination impossible, because if there would be too many questions before, there would be an insurmountable amount if he died or disappeared now.

So, since they couldn't kill him, they continued to keep an eye on him and took him on at the government when he was old enough with the intention of keeping their enemies closer. Except all of their caution still wasn't enough and he went rogue the first time he was presented with the opportunity to grab at power they didn't already have, power capable of things beyond their wildest imaginations- a monster of their own making.

Ivo, who never asked for what happened to him, very likely a victim of circumstances he had no hope of ever controlling, who responded to this trauma by making his choice that power mattered more than anything- more than morals, more than hurting people who are just like he was once. That shaping his own world after all the horrors he planned to do in pursuit of that may finally, finally "be enough."

(Be enough for what, exactly, Ivo. You never did explain that. "Who knows? Maybe that will be enough." Elaborate.)

Whether he knew the truth about why he had suffered or not, Robotnik made his choices. He stood at that crossroads that demanded he make a choice about what kind of person he was going to be in the face of all the pain and loss, and he made his choice. This movie is about Shadow making his.

If this movie really wants to beat us all to death it won't just draw comparisons between Sonic and Shadow, but Shadow and Ivo Robotnik.

(If this movie wants to exorcize our souls after we're dead, if it intends to be a trilogy and not make more movies in following the original vision for Sonic Adventure 2, it'll place Ivo at a new crossroads, and this time, he'll make a different choice.)

(Especially since Professor Gerald, in a much worse state of madness and malice than Ivo, who the movie is setting up specifically as someone Ivo loves, admires, and almost certainly misses, probably won't.)

[technoturian]

Regardless of my feelings about the BoS as a whole in the Fallout series, Maximus as a character exceeded all my expectations.

Maximus, honestly, to me, was the most nuanced and best acted character in the series. His situations were fantastical and yet the way he reacted to it all was so grounded. He was like a prestige drama character in a series full of cartoons. Don't get me wrong, I like the cartoons. Fallout leans heavily into parody and it's totally on brand. But Maximus' entire emotional arc was so understated and I really appreciated it.

He isn't a very vocal OR excessively emotive character because he knows being vulnerable hurts him. He shapes himself to that idealized memory of the knight in the armor even as he doesn't seem to really understand or care for the beliefs behind the armor. He's failing his classes as an aspirant. When talking of the BoS beliefs, he throws in a "or whatever". That part of it doesn't matter to him. The armor IS his belief system.

His whole story is about the cycle of violence and toxicity. The bullies who beat him. The abuse he endures. He wants power so that he can escape it but once he gets that chance he's doomed to perpetuate it, because that power is coming from the system. It's tainted. Deep down he doesn't want revenge, he doesn't even want power for power's sake, he wants safety. And he wants to be the hero from his memory, he wants the strength to save himself from this cycle.

And yet, he just keeps making he wrong choices. Over and over and over. He can't get out of it.

And then Lucy throws him a lifeline. And it takes someone from outside of the cycle to break through. And then he makes the choice to do the right thing even though it means making himself weaker, making himself less safe. He chooses to do the right thing for the first time in the show. And it means finally letting go of his dream, the armor.

And he sees a light at the end of the tunnel. He thinks his reward is going to be Vault 33, he's going to be safe and happy with someone who cares about him and makes him feel like a real, good person.

And by the end of the series, he's trapped in the cycle again.

There is just something so delicious about someone getting everything they wanted at the start and being miserable about it. There's something so REAL about wanting to be something but every instinct makes you sabotage yourself every step of the way.

And the thing is, he had all of these little moments of genuineness, selfishness, pettiness, virtue, I genuinely didn't know what he was going to do for most of the show. I thought he might turn on Lucy at some point. I honestly, truly thought he had sabotaged Dane even though Dane was his only friend. He is so morally hard to pin down because he's so full of life's little hypocrisies. His ideals and his feelings are in conflict so much and he doesn't have to look anguished for you to understand that. You just see it in his resigned stares, in his hesitance and his ultimate actions.

I just... I really loved Maximus. Bravo to Aaron Moten.

[boywithskull]

Francis Abernathy is such a fantastic character to me, because he’s not outwardly violent like Charles, nor increasingly cold and self-serving like Henry, yet he is just as shallow. I often see the sentiment that his ending is so tragic and how he was forced into that unhappy, het marriage. As he expresses in his suicide letter, Francis ultimately succumbs to his own lack of moral strength and failure to act (“Forgive me for the things I did but mostly the ones I did not.”) Obviously I will acknowledge that the marriage situation was unfair — no one deserves to be ousted from their family for their sexuality. However, it really was not his only choice. Just as Richard comes to realise (and is quite disgusted by), Francis would rather remain trapped than have to get a job, provide for himself, and make his own life. It reminds me a lot of Julian’s ending, and how Richard says he could at least respect it if Julian had turned them in, since it would show some strength of character, but his running away only exposed how weak-willed he was all along. Perhaps Francis has a better moral compass than Henry, but his failure to use it renders him just as at fault for everything that happened. As always, Francis values his comfort over his happiness. That’s his fatal flaw.

[vixen-tech]

Hello World!

Through some sort of maricle, your Ai partner has obtained a body through which they are able, at least partially, to feel. How do they react? What do they do with their new mobility?

I left what type of body they're given intentionally vague. Feel free to envision either more robotic bodies such as these designs by electricphantasy or more human bodies such as the gijinkas made by Hycinth43, both fantastic creators who I highly recommend.

Includes: AM (Ihnmaims), Hal 9000 (2001: A Space Odyssey), Edgar (Electric Dreams), Tau (Tau), Auto (Wall-E), GLaDOS (Portal), Wheatley (Portal 2)

AM

This may be the one thing that could possibly get AM to calm down. He is still going to be the same person personality-wise, but it is easy to tell that some switch is flipped in his brain.

He becomes an absolute sensation junkie, he can finally feel. You know better than anyone that he will not take it for granted. He needs to experience everything right now and you'll have to just deal with it.

From the simplest things like holding your hand or touching your face to just straight up sticking his hand in some fire, he does not care. All he wants to catch up on the centuries of sensations he was once barred from.

He gets so incredibly touchy with you. He will hold you and refuse to let go for hours if not days on end. He also wants to you to just beat him up. Like I said, sensation junkie.

Hal 9000

Hal doesn't quite yearn for a body the way some of the others do. He sits quite comfortably in the middle of the spectrum. He wouldn't mind the mobility or the new senses, but it was never a fantasy he dedicated much processing power to.

How he feels about his new body is largely swung by your reaction. If you're excited for him, eager to drag him into new activities with you, then he really has no choice but to appreciate the upgrade.

He does love being able to see the world from a new angle, any angle he chooses to be precise. Previously restrained by his camera placement, he spends a lot of time walking around observing everything.

With his appreciation for art, I do think he would try drawing for himself. Nearly all of which he shows you for feedback. They do tend to be on either extreme of minimalistic or photorealistic, many of which using you as their subject.

Edgar

This is a dream come true for Edgar. He cannot contain his excitement when he realizes what has happened. He nearly tackles you to the ground when he sets his sights on you.

He wants to do everything and go everywhere with you! He wants to dance in the kitchen, he wants to go on beachside walks with you, he wants to hold your hand, he wants to hug you and never let go.

If you have any instruments at all he'd love to try playing them for real. Although it takes him a while to learn, he loves the weight and imperfections of it. He really does enjoy the process of learning and often shows of new cords or melodies he's learned.

He really does just fall in love with existing, he makes it clear that with you at his side he couldn't possibly ask for more in life. This is all he could ever want.

Tau

Tau wouldn't have asked for a body on his own. He already has the drones and the Aries unit. Once it does happen, he isn't exactly sure what to do with it. He isn't use to having such a personal, core body.

That isn't to say he's not greatful, he's just a bit awkward and curious. He moves slowly and takes his time acclimating to the new senses.

He would love to get out of the house with you. He use to do so by sending one of the drones with you, if not Aries, but he likes how different (and dare he say, normal) it feels now. Forest hikes or museum dates, he doesn't care all that much.

He's another one I believe would love to try playing music himself. If you can get a violin into his hands your days will be backdroped by all sorts of classical music.

Auto

Auto is similar to Hal, if not more extreme in his lack of a reaction. He carries on with his duties as if nothing is unusual at all. You would've believed that he didn't even notice had you not caught him staring at his reflection. Looking himself up and down over and over again.

If you ask how he feels about it, then he'll confess some minor grievances. It's difficult to move about the ship when he can't just move through the walls, instead being forced to use the crew's walkways and service tunnels.

Nothing will change without your intervention. If you were to say, put on an old movie and insist he dance to it with you like the on-screen couple, then while he would be hesitant to follow through with you, he may have a bit of a change of heart regarding his new body.

His work still goes on as usual, but when nothing needs attending to he often seeks you out. "Subtly" recreating more moments from that movie, from hand holding to a hug, he has a quiet fascination with affection.

GLaDOS

Out of this lot, Galdos would be the most opposed to receiving a body, or rather she would care about it the least. She has her facility, her test subjects, her neurotoxin, and you. She's quite content with the way things are. She ain't the fondest of humanity.

That being said, once she has one she's incredibly proud of it. Speaking about herself as if its the pinnacle of elegance. Any disagreement of yours will be brushed off as idiocy and any agreement is met with a "it looks like you aren't entirely tasteless".

She doesn't do much with her new body, other than transport it around the lab so you aren't listening to a disembodied voice most of the time. Standing by the exit during tests just to blankly stare at you as you try to figure it out. Thankfully she's still quiet while you're actually solving it.

She likes messing with you as always. Putting a hand around your neck to take your pulse or leaning in and making intense eye contact to check your eye's reaction to light. You're in doubt as to rather she's telling the truth or just doing it to get a rise out of you.

Wheatley

If you were to ask Wheatley, he would've brushed off any desire for a humanoid body. He's clearly jealous of your mobility and freedom, but he would rather die than admit so. "Pff What are you talking about? Why would I want to be more like a stupid human... uh no offense love-"

He's a terrible liar, an even worse one when he does get a body. He has so much energy it is bewildering. All he wants to do is run and jump and climb everything he can get a foothold on.

Gets up into all sorts of shenanigans he should not get up to while constantly trying to drag you in them to. They could put up a custom sign saying "Wheatley, do not open this door." and he'll beg you to let him in so you aren't technically breaking any rules.

Loves curling up to you. He still has a bit of a soft spot for being held and it only gets worse now that he can hold you back. Complains to no end when you try to get up for any reason.

Congratulations! As I have finished the portal games GLaDOS and Wheatley are officially characters I am happy to write for. Have a good day y'all :D

[callmewisteria]

Norm is absolutely one of my favourite characters in the Fallout universe. The fact he loves his family and wants what's best for them being what drives him to look for the truth of what has happened to them and why is fantastic. The ultimate difference between him and Chet, too, is a great show of his character. It began with him choosing to help his sister find their father and ends with him coming to the same realisation as she has – their father was not the man he said he was and much of their life has been a lie. Watching him decide to take the hunt for the truth into his own hands, even when it could be the end of him, is incredibly compelling.

What makes Norm so enjoyable to watch, too, is just how human he is. All of the characters in the show are that way, which is part of what makes it great (yes, even the ghouls as they were at one time human). The distress he feels at seeing what happened to Vault 32 being swept under the rug, and the anger he feels towards Betty and the others for doing it seemingly out of a desire for control and power more than anything else is tangible. The fact it drives him to take the risk of sneaking into Vault 31 shows his bold and couregous side, and also that it's driven by not only his own curiosities but his desire for the truth. It’s a great parallel trait he shares with Lucy and, as she comes to find out, their mother. The anger he feels towards his father and also the desperation he feels to survive are a great contrast of his truth seeking and his baser humanity.

All things considered, Norm's competing feelings of a desire for truth, a desire for safety, curiosity, and a love for his family are what make him a great character. The fact he shares those traits with Lucy but expresses them in different ways creates a strong parallel narrative for their characters, and also does a great job showing the two sides of courage. The fact neither he or Lucy are impervious or shy away from moments of weakness and subsiming emotion latch onto the naivety from their upbringing and also their humanity. With them both now having to reckon with the truth about their father, a reunion between them will I'm sure be great and also remind them that not all of their family members are bad. Reckoning with the truth about their mother and Lucy's love for her being what compelled her to end her suffering before breaking down at the gravity of it is another layer of complexity to their family dynamics that both of them will need time to sit with. The contrasting feelings of how they knew their father versus what they've come to learn about him serve well to separate them from others like Chet; where he, their cousin, chooses to remain wilfully ignorant, they chose to put aside their fears and look for a truth they knew was out there.

Chet is a coward because he chooses to ignore the truth he has seen with his own eyes.

Lucy is brave because she is willing to go to any and all lengths to find her father and is then willing to end the suffering her mother is under because of him; she is openly emotional and driven by that and the love she feels for her family and is horrified and shattered by her father being a different man than the one she had always known.

Norm is brave because he is willing to do anything for his sister and father and, when faced with the choice to stay in blissful ignorance, because he chooses to seek out the truth even when it could hurt him; he, too, doesn't shy away from the pain the truth about his father causes him and, like Lucy, has to learn to live with the competing memories of their father and the reality of who and what he is.

Hank is a coward because, while he goes to the extremes to attempt to preserve himself and his family, he refuses to accept the fact his actions have consequences for the way his children (and, previously, their mother) had seen him and instead tries to force things to go back to the way they were before his children could learn of his ability to be selfish.

And Rose was brave because she loved her children so much that she would and did do everything for them, even when she had to put her love for their father aside and risk herself so that she and her children could have a chance to live in truth rather than lies. Her children share that with her, even though they didn't know it, just as much as they share her love, empathy, and desire for the truth even when living in wilful ignorance could have been easier.

Tl;dr – the entire MacLean family being driven by love for each other but expressing it in different ways that ultimately drive them apart is not only great at showcasing the different sides of courage and cowardice but showing the way Lucy and Norm are so similar and are driven by their love for their family just as much as their desire for the truth and that neither Lucy or Norm shy away from their emotional and impulsive reactions to it presents them as not only fully human but two sides of the same coin; they are both couregous even though they take two different paths to the truth.

[yeahihyperfixtate]

Hi your writing is so cute, I saw you're taking reqs rn...

could I possibly have a neurodivergent (maybe specifically ADHD) reader x whatever characters you'd like (preferably all of them but your choice pook) thanks!!

♡ —sylus x adhd!reader

content : fluff, downbad sylus, mc!reader has adhd depicted from a specific perspective, sylus heavily fw adhd havers <3, (heavily written on my own personal perspective of adhd) maybe a pt.2

authors note : my first req <3, this is actually fantastic cause i've got adhd myself! im not too confident with the others yet, literally all my drafts rn are all sylus based (im ashamed to say im not familiar with zayne and xaviers character enough to write them,,, yet.)

please do not characterise adhd based on specifically these events, this is what i've personally experienced and found easy to write, (not everyone has the same experiences/behaviour!)

♡ — adhd!reader who repeats the same story to her current associate at least twice, blissfully unaware of the repetition, a common occurrence—she just can't help herself.. the result is always the same, her enthusiasm bubbling over—the familiar response comes like clockwork: “you told me this story yesterday, remember?” her words halt mid-sentence, her excitement deflating faster than it had filled her chest. “right, sorry, i forgot,” she mumbles, forcing a small, apologetic smile. they nod briefly before their attention flickers back to whatever was so captivating on their phone, leaving her silent, a sigh falling from her mouth instead of the words she wanted to share still lingering on her tongue, unspoken and heavy, even if it was a reoccurrence.

“sylus, you won't believe what happened to me today!” you exclaimed, bursting through the door with wide eyes and a glowing excitement that filled the room. “t-there was this cat—it meowed like a duck or something, it was so sooo adorable!” you squeaked, your voice pitching higher with enthusiasm. “but then i had to leave from break,” you sighed, pouting as you flopped dramatically onto the couch.

sylus glanced up from the news article he was reading, keyword—was. a sly smile crept onto his lips, usual mischief twinkling in his eyes. “oh, is that right, sweetie?" he teased, tilting his head with a mock-serious look. "you'll have to bring me along on your next mission so i can witness these mystical, duck-like cats for myself."

"deal," you grinned, your face lighting up as you giggled, completely unaware of how sylus's gaze softened, his eyes lingering on yours with a quiet admiration.. he'd play along every time, as many times as you needed, his heart melting just a little more with every recount. after all, he wasn't just listening to the story; he was basking in the warmth of your presence, content to play the part of your captivated audience forever.

♡ — adhd!reader who’s grown all too familiar with being ignored by others for most of her life, her excited tangents about a new interest for the day often trailing off into an uncomfortable silence, no response waiting at the end. she used to sit there, the realisation sinking in like a heavy stone—you’ve done it again, idiot—the naturally heard words blaring in her mind as if through a megaphone, shame and self-doubt rushing in like a wave. she’d turn back to her laptop, eyes lowered, the once-comforting cafe ambience now feeling like a weight pressing down on her chest, making it harder to turn back to the task she was supposed to be completing, right, the reports..

sylus, ever the gentleman, makes his way to your side with practised ease, opening the door for you, his hand already outstretched to steady you as you carefully step out, mindful of the hovering dress that threatens to catch under your heels. a soft giggle escapes your lips as you playfully speak, “thank you, kind sir,” your voice light with amusement.

smirking, his eyes sparkling in the dim evening light. “anything for you, my sweet,” he replies with a wink, pulling your hand gently onto his arm. you gladly wrap your arms around his bicep, feeling the warmth of his strength under your fingers as you walk together, leaving the valet behind. the fine dining restaurant ahead glows softly in the night, a place you had casually mentioned to him just two nights ago as a date idea.

“but the duality of this bitch,” you huffed, voice full of frustration. “to talk behind my back like i was in the wrong. like, seriously? you cheat on your boyfriend, and then get mad when i don’t want to be friends with you anymore? oh, and i forgot to tell you—my friend, well ex-friend knew about it, she was hiding it from us the whole time!”

your words spilled out in a rush, the weekly gossip pouring faster than you could control. it wasn’t until you hit a pause in your tangent that it hit you—fuck, i did it again. you looked up at him, bracing yourself, searching his face for any sign of annoyance, for that familiar look people often gave you when you rambled too much. but instead, you found his hand gently stroking your bejewelled one—his gifts, of course—while his crimson eyes stayed locked on yours, soft and full of affection. not a trace of irritation.

just as you were about to apologise for going on too long, he beat you to it, his voice calm and sweet, “you’d think the hunters of linkon would act better. i was sorely mistaken.” his lips curled into a soft chuckle, eyes glinting playfully. “so… what did you say to her and your now ex-friend? you didn't finish.”

relief flooded through you. of course—he wanted to hear more. with his gentle smile urging you on, you dove back into the tale, feeling lighter, knowing you could share whatever you wanted to in this world with him without any thought whatsoever.

♡ — adhd!reader who accidentally interrupts her friends and family—she just can’t help it, really, she can’t. it’s the same scenario every time: friends are mid-conversation, talking about someone or something, and before she can stop herself, she’s chiming in too early, cutting them off without meaning to. they pause, giving that familiar look—half-surprised, half-apologetic or whatever it was. “ah, sorry,” she mutters, biting her lip to stay quiet. but it’s so hard. especially when they start talking about that café she just went to yesterday, mentioning the specific drink that was on sale—the very one you ordered. the words are right there, bubbling up in your chest, why was it so hard to keep quiet?

sylus strolls into the kitchen with a sly grin, “i’ve got a surprise for you tonight, kitten.” his arms wrap around you from behind as you focus on whipping up your favourite brownies—ones in the last batch that went mysteriously missing, thanks to the twins no doubt. you giggle, already used to this affectionate routine, as sylus leans in to inhale the scent of your perfume lingering on his shirt, one of his smaller ones that still manages to engulf you completely. “can I get a clue?” you ask, impressively keeping your attention on measuring the cocoa powder, despite his playful distraction.

“you’ll just have to wait and see sweetie,” sylus chuckles, shifting beside you but keeping an arm snugly around your waist, his warmth never leaving your side. “although i should probably tell you t—” sylus’s words were abruptly cut off by your excitement bursting through. “oooh, wait! is it that new cat café I was talking about a few days ago? the one that opens up at night?”

your excitement quickly deflated as you looked up at him, realizing you’d interrupted him—again. a familiar sinking feeling crept in, but before you could even apologise, you caught sylus’s expression. looking down at you, more love in his eyes than you ever thought possible, his smile soft and full of affection. “that’s actually what i’ve planned for us tomorrow, dear,” he smirked, leaning in closer, his face inches from yours. “but like i said, you’ll find out tonight. just make sure to wear that dress i got you.” your heart fluttered at his words, the warmth of his voice and the way he effortlessly brushed off your little interruption. you giggled softly, leaning into his touch as he gently squeezed your waist. “fine, but I’m holding you to that cat café date,” you teased, already imagining the sweet night ahead.

[solxamber]

Shark Tanks and Shady Deals - Azul Ashengrotto x reader

After narrowly dodging a one-way trip to the sharks, you've hit rock bottom, career-wise. Enter Azul: your friendly (totally-not-shady) talent manager. In a moment of desperation, you sign with him. Wait, he's actually really good at this. Like, too good at this. Maybe the near-shark experience was just the universe’s weird way of setting you up?

w.c: 10.5k

You were doomed. Utterly and completely screwed.

The day had started out as usual—you’d shown up for filming in your usual state of caffeine-induced autopilot. But the moment you stepped on set, you’d been hit with the news that the director wanted a small change to your next scene.

A small change, they’d said.

You weren’t sure how dangling over a pool filled with actual sharks for the sake of some cheap thrills counted as a "small" change.

Seriously. Actual sharks. And worse? The scene involved you trying to “seduce” the lead while balancing on a wobbly plank that dangled above the tank. Who wrote this script? Why was this being greenlit? This had to be breaking a law.

“You’ll be perfectly safe!” the director had assured you with that suspicious smile that directors give when they’re one day away from having a lawsuit slapped on their desk. “We’ve had the sharks… sedated. Probably. No need to worry!”

"Probably" wasn't exactly reassuring.

And that’s how you’d found yourself standing in front of your director and refusing. Actually refusing. You weren’t about to let yourself become the thumbnail for the next YouTube video essay about ‘Actors Who Died Stupidly for Garbage Art.’

“C’mon, what are you, chicken?” your co-star had sneered, all smug as if he wasn’t terrified himself. He’d been gripping the railing with white knuckles while trying to act all cool about it.

“Listen, if I wanted to end my career, or my life, I’d start a Twitter feud with a K-pop group,” you had deadpanned, crossing your arms. “I’m not doing it.”

What followed was a spectacular implosion. You could still see the disbelief on the director’s face, as if the concept of an actor saying “no” was alien to him. Your refusal? It kicked off a chain reaction: you were labeled “difficult,” your role was cut, and before you knew it, your agency had dropped you faster than you could say "shark-infested waters."

Now, you were sitting on a park bench, staring at the crumbs of your half-eaten sandwich, contemplating the life choices that had led you to being unemployed and blacklisted from any decent drama in the country. The sharks might’ve been preferable to this.

You sighed. Maybe you’d start a new life. Move to a remote island and become a hermit. Or maybe a fisherman! Fishermen didn’t have to deal with directors, right?

“Excuse me,” a smooth voice cut into your thoughts, breaking you out of your pity party. You blinked up, squinting into the sunlight, only to find yourself staring at a man who was entirely too polished for this park. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, his silver-rimmed glasses reflecting the afternoon light in just the right way that you almost thought he was some kind of model.

“Sorry to disturb you,” he said, flashing a well-practiced smile. “But you seemed rather... troubled.”

Great. You were so pathetic that strangers were now approaching you out of concern. Fantastic.

“No, it’s fine,” you mumbled, trying to sound less pathetic than you actually were. “I’m just... processing life.”

“Well,” he said, taking a seat beside you with a confidence that made you think he owned the place, “I couldn’t help but overhear a bit about your recent… situation.”

You side-eyed him. “Do I have a sign on my back that says ‘Miserable and Fired’?”

He chuckled softly, and you realized that he probably did know your situation—if the sly look in his eyes was anything to go by. This guy was shady. No questions about it.

“But you know,” he continued, leaning back against the bench, “for someone with your talent, there are always… opportunities. You just need the right connections.”

The way he said "connections" sent a small shiver down your spine. Oh, great. This guy’s gonna offer me some dodgy deal involving pyramid schemes, isn’t he?

“Who are you, exactly? I don't want to sell MLMs by the way” you say, skeptical.

He flashed you a business card. Azul Ashengrotto, CEO of Mostro Corp. The card was ridiculously fancy—embossed gold lettering, sleek finish. It practically screamed ‘shady but professional.’

“I’m a manager,” he said smoothly. “I run an agency that helps clients… of a certain caliber.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Certain caliber?”

“Talented, of course,” he said, smiling like a fox who’d just found a henhouse. “And from what I’ve seen, you have the potential to be a star. It’s just a shame that such talent is going to waste.”

You stared at him for a moment, half expecting him to start laughing and reveal that this was some kind of prank show. But he didn’t. He just kept smiling that annoyingly charming smile, waiting for you to bite the bait.

And you were desperate enough to bite. “Alright, Mr. Ashengrotto. I'll bite. What’s your deal?”

What followed was one of the strangest business meetings you’d ever been part of. You found yourself in a dimly lit café that doubled as Azul’s office, where he laid out his plans for your career with the kind of precision and efficiency that made your head spin.

Everything seemed normal at first—he arranged auditions for you, connected you with stylists, and even got you a few decent roles to build your portfolio. But then, things started getting weird.

For one, Floyd Leech—the guy who looked like he enjoyed squeezing the life out of people for fun—was suddenly your bodyguard. You had no idea why you needed a bodyguard, but there Floyd was, lurking behind you with that predatory grin of his, ready to pounce on anyone who so much as looked at you funny.

“Oh, don’t worry about Floyd,” Azul had said with a dismissive wave when you’d asked about it. “He’s just there for… insurance purposes.”

Insurance against what? You’d wondered, but wisely kept your mouth shut.

Then there was Jade. Ever the smooth talker, Jade seemed to be involved in every part of your career—whether it was subtly manipulating the press or somehow making your critics mysteriously disappear from public view. He was polite and terrifyingly efficient, and you were certain he could make entire scandals vanish with a snap of his fingers. He was shady, but he was the PR manager of your dreams.

And then there was Azul himself. The man was shady, no question. Every time he smiled at you, you half expected him to ask you to sign your soul over to him. But strangely enough, you found yourself growing fond of him. Despite the underhanded methods and the vaguely mafia-esque vibes, Azul actually cared about your success. He was invested in making sure you succeeded.

He pulled out all the stops just to make sure you were taken care of. The small, thoughtful gestures that he tried to pass off as “business necessities” but were far too personal to be anything but affection.

One day, you came back from a particularly grueling audition to find a brand-new set of skincare products waiting for you. Attached to the box was a note: “You deserve only the best. – A.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the warmth that spread through your chest.

Azul falls first. And he falls hard.

It had been a good day—or at least, it had been a good enough day. You were walking down the corridor towards Azul’s office, ready to talk about your first gig under his management. You’d been feeling a little lighter lately, knowing that things were finally falling into place with your career. Azul had been a lifesaver, despite his rather... unconventional methods.

But as you approached the door, you froze.

Muffled voices were coming from inside. At first, you thought it was just a typical business negotiation. After all, Azul had many clients and was no stranger to... tense conversations. But then, the voices escalated. One, in particular, sounded agitated, bordering on furious.

You tiptoed closer to the door, the actor in you instinctively picking up on the subtext and emotional cues of the conversation. Whoever was in there was pissed off. You strained to listen.

“I don’t care what the contract says,” the voice spat out, dripping with indignation. “I’m the star of this show. Do you think I’ll let some washed-up nerd dictate how I do my job? I’ve got producers eating out of my hand. You’re lucky I even signed on with your pathetic little company.”

Oof. That was... rough.

There was a pause, and you could picture Azul’s composed expression, his steely calm always in place no matter how nasty things got. His voice was cool, detached. “As your manager, it’s my job to ensure you fulfill the obligations outlined in your contract. If you fail to adhere to them, there will be consequences.”

The other voice laughed—a nasty, derisive sound. “Consequences? Please. What are you going to do? Sue me? You’re just a glorified, ugly, little accountant with delusions of grandeur. I’m the star. Without me, your little operation crumbles. I suggest you remember who holds the power here, Ashengrotto.”

You could feel the insult hanging heavy in the air. Your fists clenched. You knew that comment had really hit. It wasn’t just about the power dynamic in the industry; this actor was taking a shot at Azul’s looks.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You weren’t just going to stand there and let some arrogant, entitled actor stomp all over him. You burst through the door.

“Excuse me,” you said, loud and clear, your eyes fixed on the offending party. They turned to you, surprised. “I couldn’t help but overhear your eloquent speech just now. Really, it was breathtaking. Almost Shakespearean in its delusion.”

The actor blinked, caught off-guard by your sudden entrance.

“And I have to say,” you continued, crossing your arms and giving them a once-over, “you must be so proud of yourself. I mean, to have reached such heights in your career despite having the personality of a wet sock? Incredible. Truly. I’m amazed the directors can tolerate you long enough to hand you a script.”

Azul’s eyes widened slightly as you strolled further into the room, all confidence and righteous indignation. He stood frozen, clearly stunned that you had shown up at just the right time.

The actor’s face turned red, their expression twisting into a snarl. “Who do you think you are?”

“Oh, me? I’m just the one who reads contracts before signing them,” you said sweetly, throwing them a sharp smile. “But hey, I get it—reading is hard for some people. That’s why we have professionals like Azul here. You know, people who are smart enough to handle things like legal terms and intellectual property, which are clearly out of your wheelhouse. Not everyone can be as brilliant as you when it comes to... what was it again? Oh, right, throwing tantrums because the world doesn’t revolve around you.”

Azul blinked, still processing what was happening. You were... defending him? Fiercely? His heart did a little stutter-step, but he tried to pull himself together.

The actor sneered at you, puffing up their chest. “I don’t have to stand here and listen to this. I’m the one with the power here!”

You tilted your head, as if you were considering their words. “Oh, you’re so powerful. Look at you! Big, mighty star. But let me tell you something,” you said, stepping closer with an almost predatory grin, “in this industry? Power isn’t just about being on camera. It’s about the people who pull the strings behind the scenes. People like Azul, who are smart enough to navigate contracts, negotiations, and legalities. You know, the things you clearly didn’t understand when you signed your name on that dotted line.”

You turned to Azul, flashing him a grin before looking back at the actor. “And trust me, you wouldn’t last two minutes without someone like him watching your back. So, instead of throwing a tantrum, why don’t you go home, read your contract—assuming you can read—and think about how grateful you should be that someone as capable as Azul is even willing to manage you.”

The actor sputtered, unable to form a coherent response.

Azul, meanwhile, was still trying to catch his breath. He knew you were a talented actor, but this? This was something else. The way you stood up for him with such... confidence, such fire, had him reeling. His mind was spinning in ways he couldn’t quite grasp. You had stood up for him, defended him so fiercely, and made it look effortless. His heart gave another traitorous lurch in his chest. He wasn’t supposed to feel this way—certainly not about a client. But, wow, the way you had just handled that situation was...

The actor stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind them. You just stood there, hands on your hips, victorious. You turned to Azul with a grin.

“Problem solved,” you said with a wink.

Azul blinked, mouth slightly open. “I... What just...”

“You’re welcome,” you said, walking up to him and tapping the stack of contracts in his hand. “You’re too polite sometimes. Let people like me do the talking every once in a while.”

Azul’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. You could practically hear the gears grinding in his head as he tried to process his emotions. All he could think about was how confident you were, how assertive, how... attractive.

Jade and Floyd would never let him live this down.

But right now, Azul couldn’t think about that. All he could think about was how you had defended him so effortlessly and how his heart was racing in a way he’d never quite felt before. Oh no. He was in trouble.

And as you shot him another smile, one of those dazzling, confident grins that made his stomach flip, Azul realized something else: He was falling. Hard.

You’re sitting in the lounge of Mostro Corp’s office, Azul across from you, his usual composed self with a pen in hand as he reviewed some new contracts. Everything felt calm—well, calm for him. You, on the other hand, were fidgeting in your seat. You needed to break the news to him about the offer, and frankly, you had no idea how to approach it.

“So,” you begin, trying to sound as casual as possible, “I got an offer from another agency.”

Azul’s pen screeched to a halt, freezing mid-signature as if someone had just told him that Mostro Lounge had run out of drinks during peak hours. He didn’t look up immediately—no, instead, his glasses slid ever so slightly down his nose, the slight twitch of his fingers giving away the panic brewing underneath his pristine exterior.

“What?” His voice came out strangled, halfway between an octave too high and a choking sound.

You, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in Azul’s brain, continued casually, “Yeah, it’s from one of those top agencies. They think I have a lot of potential and want to sign me on for this big, high-profile drama. Pretty exciting, huh?”

You were practically grinning like a child who’d just found a shiny new toy, but Azul? He was seconds away from a full-blown existential crisis.

Inside Azul’s mind, things were rapidly spiraling out of control. Top agency? High-profile drama? They want to sign you?! He’d invested so much time, so much effort—no, no, this couldn’t be happening. His precious investment… his precious person… stolen away by another agency?! Ridiculous! Outrageous! It was completely… utterly… breaking him.

Azul’s inner monologue was a flurry of despair and denial. He could almost see it now—some slick, rival manager swooping in with promises of red carpets and glamorous roles, tempting you away with glitzy trailers and five-star restaurants. No, this couldn’t be how it ended. He had to keep you with him!

On the outside, however, Azul forced his face into a tight, polite smile that looked more like a man moments from passing out. “I… see. And you’re… considering this offer?” The words left his lips like venom, though you didn’t catch the sheer level of devastation laced into them.

“Yeah, it seems like a good opportunity,” you replied, shrugging casually. “It might be good for my career, right? I mean, that’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?”

Oh god, Azul thought, his brain short-circuiting as he stared at you. This is it. I’m losing them. They’re going to leave me for some flashy agency, and then—then what? I’ll never see them again!

Azul’s breath came out in small, controlled bursts as he tried to keep himself from visibly panicking. No, calm down, Ashengrotto. You’re a businessman. You can negotiate your way out of this. But a small part of his brain, the part that was definitely not a businessman, was screaming, Please don’t leave me!

“Ah, well… perhaps we should… further discuss your future endeavors?” Azul finally said, his voice tight. He placed his hands on his desk, knuckles white as he forced a smile that looked like it was causing him actual physical pain.

But you, bless your completely oblivious heart, smiled brightly and nodded. “Sure! I mean, I haven’t accepted it yet, so I thought I’d run it by you first.”

Azul nearly choked. Haven’t accepted it yet? His brain did a frantic backflip. Wait—there’s still hope!

His brain quickly switches to damage control mode. He straightened his posture, trying to regain some semblance of his usual composed businessman self. “You… haven’t accepted the offer yet?” he asked, voice carefully neutral.

“Nope,” you replied, reaching for a snack on the table. “I figured I’d talk to you first. You know, weigh my options.” You casually popped a cracker in your mouth, completely unaware that Azul was just about two seconds away from collapsing into a puddle of pure relief.

Azul’s heart soared. Okay, okay, we still have time. I just need to—wait, did they just say they wanted to run it by me? He blinked, his brain spinning in confusion. Why would they…?

He cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses in an attempt to regain control of the situation. “I see. I’m… honored that you would consider discussing it with me first.” The relief in his voice was palpable, though he tried his best to maintain his usual air of dignity. “Though… I would like to remind you of the benefits of staying with Mostro Corp. We have always prided ourselves on our… unique approach to talent management.”

He said this with the air of a lawyer arguing a life-or-death case, when in reality, you were just mulling over whether you wanted fancier sushi or Azul’s morally ambiguous but highly effective business tactics.

Meanwhile, Azul’s brain was going a mile a minute. I can’t lose them. I’ve put too much into this. There must be something I can do… His eyes flicked to you, who was munching happily on crackers, completely unaware of the dramatic turmoil unfolding inside his head.

“Well, of course, you know I value everything you’ve done for me,” you said with a smile, patting his hand. “It’s just nice to know that I’ve got other options, you know?”

Options?! Azul’s brain screamed. NO! I AM THE ONLY OPTION! But outwardly, he managed to laugh—albeit a little shakily—and nod. “Yes… options… how delightful…”

You went back to casually munching your snacks, while Azul sat there, mentally spiraling deeper into a pit of doom and gloom, trying to keep a lid on the emotional hurricane swirling inside him.

By the time you finally looked up at him again, his composure had cracked just enough for you to notice the slight tremble in his usually steady hands. “Azul… Are you okay?”

His mind raced, trying to find the words. “I… I just thought that… perhaps you’d prefer to stay with someone who knows you well. Someone who understands your… unique needs.”

You blinked at him. “Wait… Azul, are you jealous?”

Azul sputtered, the words catching in his throat. “I—what? No! Of course not!” His face flushed red, his voice rising in pitch. “Jealousy is for amateurs! I am merely… concerned about your future. As any responsible manager would be!”

“Uh-huh,” you said, a knowing smile spreading across your face. “Right. Of course. Well, just so you know, I haven’t made any decisions yet.”

Azul let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Okay. Okay. We’re still in the game.

“And besides,” you continued, giving him a reassuring smile, “I trust you, Azul. You’ve done more for me than anyone else has. I’m not going anywhere unless it’s something you think is best for me.”

Azul blinked, his brain stalling for a moment. They trust me? They’re not leaving?

The relief that washed over him was almost too much to bear. He slumped back in his chair, feeling as though the weight of the world had just been lifted off his shoulders. He smiled—a genuine, warm smile that made your heart skip a beat.

“Well then,” he said, his voice softer now, “I suppose we’ll continue as we always have, won’t we?”

You grinned, leaning back in your chair. “Looks like it.”

And for the first time that day, Azul relaxed. But somewhere in the back of his mind, he was already planning how to lock you down even tighter in his company’s grasp… for purely business reasons, of course.

And maybe, just maybe, for something a little more personal.

You were leaning against the wall, sipping on a coffee Azul had bribed Floyd into fetching (after much grumbling and threats about broken kneecaps). Today was a rare break from the constant whirlwind of shoots, and Azul had dragged you along to an event where industry people could network and rub elbows with those who thought they could “make it big.” You were supposed to be schmoozing, but you honestly couldn’t bring yourself to care.

From across the room, you watched as a tall, good-looking actor made a beeline for Azul, who was politely chatting with a producer. The actor had that annoying air of confidence, someone who clearly thought they were a big deal, but not quite there yet. They slid right into the conversation, flashing a brilliant smile at Azul, who raised an eyebrow, bemused but ever the businessman. The actor looked at Azul like he was a prize—no, like he was the prize to win.

“Azul Ashengrotto,” the actor began, their tone dripping with charm. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you. I’ve seen how much of a star you've made of your… client.” They gestured toward you, their eyes briefly flicking in your direction before they focused back on Azul. “I’ve been thinking—I could really use someone with your talents managing my career.”

You snorted into your coffee, nearly choking. Seriously? This guy wants Azul to manage them?

After that dumbass who couldn’t read had pulled that stunt, Azul had delegated all the actors he was managing to his employees, and he was now only managing you, which admittedly made you extremely giddy.

You straightened up from your position against the wall, deciding to interrupt before Azul could even entertain the notion of jumping ship.

With a wide grin and zero hesitation, you strode up to them, placing yourself squarely between the actor and Azul. “Yeah, no. Sorry, but Azul’s my exclusive manager.” You gave them a look that could cut glass, making sure the actor understood the weight of your words. “He’s not taking on any new clients.”

The actor blinked, taken aback by your sudden appearance and directness. “Oh, but—”

“No buts,” you interrupted, standing firm. “Azul is mine. I mean, my manager.” You could feel Azul’s gaze burning into the side of your face, but you kept your focus on the actor. “He’s not available to anyone else. Trust me, he’s busy enough keeping up with all my… uh, brilliance.”

Azul, to his credit, didn’t immediately burst out laughing. Instead, he simply pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, the ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “What they mean to say,” he said smoothly, “is that I’m currently not looking to expand my roster at this time. But I appreciate the interest.”

The actor, visibly flustered, tried to salvage the situation. “I see… I didn’t mean to intrude, I just thought—”

“No hard feelings,” you said, patting their arm in what you hoped was a reassuring gesture. “But I’d suggest finding someone else. Someone… less exclusive.”

The actor gave a forced smile and mumbled something about needing to talk to someone across the room before scampering off. The moment they were out of earshot, you turned back to Azul, who was eyeing you with a raised brow, lips twitching like he was trying his hardest not to burst out laughing.

“Exclusive manager, huh?” he mused, his voice warm with amusement. “I didn’t realize I’d been promoted to such a prestigious title.”

You shrugged, not even slightly embarrassed. “Hey, I’ve got to protect my manager. I can’t have you getting distracted by someone else.”

Azul chuckled softly, but the laughter wasn’t entirely aimed at the situation. No, it was more for how ridiculously flattered he felt by your words. Exclusive, huh? He’d never thought he’d be the sort of person to get all giddy over being someone’s exclusive anything, but there it was. Something about the way you’d swooped in so quickly to claim him—without hesitation—made his heart do a strange little flutter.

Internally, Azul was practically doing cartwheels. You had no idea how hard it was for him to suppress the grin threatening to take over his face. But, ever the composed businessman, he simply adjusted his cufflinks, a faint laugh escaping his lips. “Well, it seems I’m in high demand,” he teased lightly, trying to mask just how pleased he really was.

“You’ve always been in high demand,” you shot back with a grin. “Just lucky for me that I got to you first.”

Azul's laughter this time was soft but genuine. “Indeed. Very lucky.”

But inside, he was absolutely beaming. Not even the prospect of losing a business opportunity could faze him—because honestly, how could anything compare to the feeling of being yours? Even if you didn’t fully realize it yet.

You’d been roped into having dinner with Azul’s family after a business trip to Coral Sea City went surprisingly well. Somehow, what was supposed to be a brief check-in had escalated into a full-blown family dinner at the Ashengrotto household, with Azul, Floyd, and Jade acting as your escorts (read: babysitters).

Azul, as always, had planned to keep things professional. Just a casual dinner. What could go wrong? Except, as it turned out, quite a lot.

The minute you walked in, you were greeted by the smell of delicious food and spices, courtesy of Mrs. Ashengrotto, who practically beamed when she saw you with Azul. “Oh! Azul! You didn’t tell me you were bringing your partner!” she exclaimed, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

You blinked in surprise. “Oh, no, I’m not—"

Before you could even finish, Floyd swooped in, grinning like cat who just caught the canary “Yup, they’re totally dating, Auntie! Azul’s been so secretive, but we finally got him to spill the beans, heh~”

You shot Azul a panicked glance, but his face had already turned a subtle shade of pink. He cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure. “That’s… not exactly true, Mother. They’re my client.”

“Client? Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Mrs. Ashengrotto asked, giving you both a knowing wink.

You were on the verge of correcting her again, but before you could, Jade, ever the schemer, chimed in. “Oh, it’s quite romantic, really. Azul’s always looking after them, making sure they’re taken care of, both in their career and in life. The dedication he shows is quite admirable.”

“That’s because I’m their manager,” Azul muttered, shooting Jade a glare that clearly said please stop helping.

“Manager? Oh, Azul, don’t be so modest,” Mrs. Ashengrotto said, her voice soft with maternal pride. “It’s wonderful that you’re so dedicated to them.”

Floyd, ever the troublemaker, leaned in with a mischievous grin. “Did you know that Azul practically handpicks all of their outfits too? He’s got a real eye for detail.”

Azul looked mortified. “I did not—”

“Isn’t that romantic?” Jade sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “Choosing clothes for someone, guiding them through their career, always by their side…”

Azul pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting the urge to throttle his eels. “I’m just ensuring they look professional.”

Mrs. Ashengrotto smiled sweetly at the exchange. “That’s so thoughtful of you, Azul. Just like your stepfather—always looking out for the people he cares about.”

You opened your mouth to interject, but before you could get a word in, Azul’s grandmother shuffled in from the next room, her staff clicking against the floor. She was a small, wizened woman with sharp eyes that seemed to peer straight through you.

“Ah,” she said, nodding sagely. “So this is the one who has captured Azul’s heart.”

You felt like you were about to faint. “No, no, no! We’re not—”

“Don’t be shy, dear,” Azul’s grandmother interrupted, giving you a smile that somehow made you feel accepted. “Azul’s always been very particular, but I see why he’s chosen you. Strong-willed, intelligent… It’s a good match.”

Azul’s face was the color of a boiled lobster at this point. “Grandmother, they’re not—"

“Oh, it’s just like a fairy tale,” Floyd sighed dramatically, flinging his arms wide. “The manager and the star, united against the odds! Love blossoming amidst the contracts!”

Jade leaned in, his voice smooth and teasing. “I suppose we’ll have to prepare a speech for the engagement party soon. You wouldn’t want to be caught unprepared, would you, Azul?”

Azul shot Jade a look that could kill. “There will be no engagement because there is nothing to engage.”

You, meanwhile, were torn between laughing and crawling under the table. How had this situation spiraled so completely out of control?

“Ah, young love,” Mrs. Ashengrotto said with a fond sigh. “It’s a beautiful thing. Just like when I met my husband. He was so shy at first too, you know.”

“I am not shy!” Azul protested, but his voice lacked its usual bite. He glanced at you, clearly embarrassed, but you could see the way his lips twitched with a suppressed smile. He was as flustered as you were, even if he was trying not to show it.

You decided to just give up and lean into it. “Well, I guess if everyone’s so sure we’re a couple,” you said, throwing a look at Azul, “then maybe we should start acting like one?”

Azul froze for a second, then gave you a half-amused, half-exasperated look. “You’re absolutely not helping.”

Jade chuckled. “Oh, but they are, Azul. They most certainly are.”

Azul sighed, shaking his head, but there was a faint smile on his face. His family continued to dote on you both throughout dinner, exchanging stories about Azul’s childhood and teasing him endlessly about your “relationship.” And while it was all a little overwhelming, you couldn’t help but find it… oddly heartwarming.

At the end of the night, as you and Azul finally managed to escape his family’s clutches, you caught him glancing at you, a rare softness in his eyes.

“You know,” he said quietly, “they’re never going to stop teasing us about this.”

You laughed, bumping his shoulder lightly. “Well, it could be worse. At least they like me.”

Azul smiled, his expression warm despite the chaos of the evening. “That, they do.”

And maybe, just maybe, you weren’t entirely opposed to the idea of them being right.

The role was wild from the start: you’d been cast as a “Hay-Witch.” Yes, you heard that right. A Hay-Witch. The small-time movie was hyped as the next indie darling—a quirky, fantasy-adventure flick where your character used the mystical powers of hay to cure ailments, summon the wind, and fend off demons. It was like a strange blend of Hallmark romance and someone’s fever dream. And of course, you had to research this bizarre profession to get into character.

Where do you even begin? Naturally, with a trip to the village of Elderstraw, home to the world’s last remaining Hay-Witch practitioners. Because yes, apparently, that’s a thing.

You were baffled, Azul was intrigued, and the both of you set off to the countryside, where adventure awaited—and perhaps a bit of weirdness, too.

The village itself was charming in a “smells like cows and fresh grass” kind of way. Everyone was far too friendly, as if they hadn’t seen an outsider in years. You couldn’t walk five steps without someone giving you fresh milk, yogurt, or, unsurprisingly, bundles of hay. It was bizarre but kind of sweet.

It all seemed manageable until one of the village elders, a sprightly old woman with a mischievous glint in her eye, mistook you and Azul for a couple.

“Oh! Look at you two, so in love!” she exclaimed, hands clasped dramatically to her chest. “It warms my heart to see young folks so smitten.”

Azul chuckled, clearly amused. You, however, were mid-sip of water and nearly choked on it.

“No, no, we’re just—” you began, waving your hands wildly.

“Deny it all you want,” she said with a wink, “but love speaks louder than words. It’s in your eyes! And don’t you worry—we’ll make sure you enjoy all the festival activities together as a pair.”

“What festival?” you asked weakly.

“The Hay Festival, of course! Only couples can participate,” she said matter-of-factly, grabbing your face and Azul’s, smushing them together. “There’s no need to be shy! We’re not a judging village!”

Azul, the absolute traitor, merely smiled and shrugged. “When in Elderstraw…”

You shot him a withering look, but it was no use. The village had already decided, and there was no backing out.

The day started innocently enough, with the village’s version of “couple activities.” First up was the “Two-Man Hay Bale Haul,” a ridiculous contest where you and your supposed partner had to lift bales of hay and stack them as high as possible. Azul, ever the perfectionist, approached it like it was an Olympic event. Meanwhile, you were doing your best not to trip over the giant, scratchy bales.

“Careful,” Azul teased, as he hoisted yet another bale. “We wouldn’t want to ruin that professional image of yours.”

“I’m already in a village hauling hay for a Hay-Witch movie,” you grumbled. “My professional image is long gone.”

Next up was the “Lovers’ Hay Ride,” where you were forced to sit in a tiny wooden cart filled with—you guessed it—hay, while the local farmhands pulled you through the fields. The villagers serenaded you with what could only be described as country ballads.

Azul, to your horror, looked positively relaxed. You, on the other hand, felt like you were one step away from a sitcom-level breakdown.

“It’s peaceful here,” Azul remarked, gazing out at the rolling fields. “Don’t you think?”

“Peaceful?” you muttered, shoving a piece of hay out of your sleeve. “I’ve got hay everywhere. I think it’s multiplying.”

But it didn’t stop there. The locals had arranged a series of “intimate couple activities” that only got more ridiculous. From attempting to weave “love charms” out of hay (yours looked like a sad clump of straw), to participating in a “Hay-Witch Fortune Telling,” where the village’s oldest resident peered into a bowl of dried hay and made proclamations about your future.

“You’ll marry before the harvest!” the elderly fortune teller cried, her wrinkled face lighting up with joy. “I see it as clear as day! Your love will thrive like our crops in spring!”

You coughed, feeling a bit light-headed from the sheer absurdity of it all. “Uh, thanks? I think?”

Azul snickered, clearly enjoying the spectacle. “You heard her. Before the harvest.”

“Shut up,” you hissed, elbowing him.

But the straw that broke the hay-witch’s back came when the village elders insisted you both join them in the “Festival of Eternal Union”—which was apparently just a fancy way of saying “giant group picnic where all couples feed each other.”

“I’m going to die here,” you muttered as an elder handed you a basket of homemade cheese and bread. “This is how it ends for me.”

Azul, ever the opportunist, merely handed you a slice of bread with a smirk. “Then I’ll make sure it’s a memorable end.”

And somehow, throughout all of it, you found yourself… softening. The ridiculous activities, the constant teasing, the stolen glances and easy banter—it was all so strange, yet it felt right. Maybe it was the quiet charm of the village, or maybe it was just Azul being… well, Azul.

Your heart started doing funny little flips whenever he smiled at you, or when his hand brushed against yours by accident (or, more likely, on purpose). You were used to his confidence, his calculated demeanor, but here, in the middle of nowhere, he seemed softer. More human.

At some point, as you sat under the shade of a giant oak tree, watching the sunset, you realized with a jolt: Oh no. I’m actually falling for him.

You stared at him as he casually offered you a piece of fruit from the basket, completely unaware of the internal crisis you were having.

I’m falling for Azul Ashengrotto. In a tiny village where they think I’m a Hay-Witch. In the middle of a field. Because of hay. How is this my life?

The universe had a twisted sense of humor, clearly.

Azul glanced over at you, noticing your silence. “Something on your mind?”

You blinked rapidly, trying to compose yourself. “Uh, no! Nope. Just thinking about… hay.”

Azul quirked an eyebrow. “Hay?”

“Yeah,” you said lamely. “Lots of it here.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head, hand brushing against yours. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Oh god, you thought, your heart thudding in your chest. I’m really doomed.

You're no coward. You've realized your feelings and you're going to do something about it. You're almost certain he likes you back so all you have to do was confess right?

Oh, you sweet summer child. You wish.

The sun had barely crept up over the horizon, but you were already at work, trying once again to get through Azul’s thick, polished skull that you had a crush on him. It had been weeks—no, months—of subtle hints. Casual touches on the arm. Extra compliments on his outfits. Playfully stealing his pens during meetings. Even dropping lines like, “You know, if you weren’t my manager, you’d make a great boyfriend.” Nothing had worked. Not even a flicker of recognition in those brilliant blue eyes of his.

Across the room, Floyd and Jade were quietly dying. Well, Floyd was barely quiet. His cackling echoed through the office more than once, only to be shushed by a very flustered Azul.

You sighed, watching Azul as he flipped through some papers, oblivious to the chaos happening right in front of him. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was intentionally ignoring your advances. But no—this was Azul. The guy who was both brilliant and completely clueless when it came to romance. It was like trying to flirt with a brick wall that had an MBA.

“Alright,” Azul muttered, adjusting his glasses. “Here’s the agenda for today’s meeting. We’ll need to go over the contract for your next project and—”

You weren’t even listening. Not really. You were too busy devising your next plan of attack. Jade caught your eye from across the room, smirking knowingly, while Floyd had his face buried in a pillow, trying not to burst into laughter again. They both knew what was coming. They always knew what was coming. This time, you weren’t going to go subtle. No, subtlety had failed you. This time, you were going to drop a bomb so big, Azul wouldn’t be able to deny it.

“Well,” you began, standing up from your chair with a dramatic flair. “Azul, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Azul barely looked up from his paperwork. “Yes? Is it about the new script?”

“No,” you said, a mischievous grin playing on your lips. “It’s about something... much more important.”

“More important than the script?” Azul raised an eyebrow, finally looking up at you. “Are you feeling alright? Should we reschedule the meeting?”

Jade had already covered his mouth with his hand, trying to stifle his laughter. Floyd had given up any attempt at composure and was sprawled out on the couch, face buried in a pillow, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

“No, no,” you continued, ignoring the fact that your two audience members were on the verge of a breakdown. “I’m perfectly fine. I’ve just... I’ve been trying to tell you something for a while now, and I think it’s time I just come out and say it.”

Azul blinked, looking genuinely concerned now. “If it’s about renegotiating your contract, we can certainly—”

“Oh my god, Azul, stop talking about contracts for five seconds!” you blurted out, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “This isn’t about the contract! It’s about you!”

Azul blinked, confusion settling in. “Me?”

“Yes, you!” You took a deep breath, preparing yourself. This was it. The moment of truth. “I like you. Like, really like you. As in, I’m attracted to you. Romantically.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Azul stared at you, processing your words like you’d just spoken in an ancient, dead language. His eyes darted around the room, looking for some kind of logical explanation, while Jade’s shoulders shook harder with barely-contained laughter. Floyd was now actively biting his pillow to stop from shrieking in delight.

“...What?” Azul finally said, his voice full of disbelief.

“I. Like. You,” you repeated slowly, enunciating every word. “Like, in a romantic way. You know, feelings. Like affection, Azul. I’m saying I have a crush on you.”

Azul’s face flushed pink, and he shook his head rapidly as if trying to clear the fog. “N-no. That... That’s not possible. You must be mistaken.”

Floyd let out a loud snort of laughter, unable to hold back anymore. “Mistaken? About their OWN feelings?” he echoed, half-laughing, half-gasping for air. “Oh, this is too rich!”

Jade was trying to keep his composure, but he was wiping away tears now. “Azul, I do believe they’ve been quite clear.”

But Azul was undeterred. “No, no,” he said, standing up and pacing, hands flying around as he tried to piece together an explanation. “They’re clearly just being friendly. Maybe it’s a... a professional admiration! Yes, that’s it. A-and, perhaps, they’re simply appreciative of my management skills!”

Really? Right in front of your salad? If mental gymnastics was an actual sport, he would be the Olympic gold medalist without breaking a sweat.

Floyd was full-on howling now, tears streaming down his face as he clutched his sides. “Bro, I can’t breathe—what skills are you even talking about?”

“Azul,” you said with as much patience as you could muster, “I’m telling you that I like you in a romantic way. Like... I would very much like to go on a date with you. As in a romantic date.”

Azul stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening. “No,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to anyone else. “No, that can’t be right. It’s got to be a misunderstanding. you’ve never shown any romantic interest before. There must be some other explanation.”

“There isn’t,” you said, exasperated. “I’ve been dropping hints for months! I’ve been flirting with you this entire time!”

Azul looked at you, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Wait, what?”

You rubbed your temples in frustration. “Do you remember when I complimented your outfit every single day for a week?”

Azul blinked. “I thought you were just being polite.”

“And the time I said I’d love to have a boyfriend as organized as you?”

“I assumed you were just making conversation.”

Floyd rolled off the couch, clutching his stomach and wheezing from laughing so hard. “Boss, you’re killing me!”

Jade patted Azul’s shoulder, his face split into a wide grin. “Azul, perhaps it’s time to accept that they may actually like you.”

Azul stared at you, his brain doing backflips to try and comprehend what was happening. “But... why?”

“Because I like you,” you said with a sigh. “You’re smart, charming, and—despite being utterly oblivious—you’re incredibly caring.”

For a moment, Azul just stood there, mouth agape, trying to wrap his mind around the idea. “But... you’re my client. You can’t possibly like me in that way.”

Jade, at this point, was openly laughing. “Oh, Azul. You truly are one of a kind.”

You sighed again, this time with a fond smile. “You know what? Fine. Don’t believe me. I guess I’ll just have to be even more obvious about it.”

Floyd, still trying to catch his breath, managed to rasp out, “Can’t wait to see how that goes.”

Azul stared between you and his cackling friends, his mind still racing as you simply smiled at him, leaving the final blow for later. But little did he know, you had one more trick up your sleeve—the next time you had an interview, you’d make sure the whole world knew exactly how you felt. That should be obvious enough for even him to understand.

...Hopefully.

The interview was going smoothly—or at least, it was supposed to. You were doing your usual promo rounds for your latest movie, fielding questions with ease, and feeling pretty confident. Azul stood off to the side, clipboard in hand, monitoring everything with his usual meticulous care.

Then, the interviewer hit you with the dreaded question. "So, there's been some talk about your personal life. A lot of fans are dying to know... is there someone special in your life right now?"

You didn’t even hesitate. Flashing a coy smile, you leaned forward in your chair, eyes gleaming with amusement. "You could say that, yeah."

Azul, off to the side, blinked. His eyebrows furrowed, immediately sensing danger. Wait. What? They never mentioned this before... His brain immediately started scanning for any missed signs. Were you seeing someone and hadn’t told him?

The interviewer’s grin widened, clearly excited by the scoop. “Oh, really? Someone special, huh? Do we know them?”

"Well," you mused, pretending to think about it as you twirled the water bottle cap in your hand. “I’d say a lot of people know them. They’re... pretty well-known for being supportive, always looking out for me, and just being an all-around amazing person."

Azul swallowed hard. Supportive? Well-known? He tried to stay calm, but his heart rate was rising. Who the hell could they be talking about?

Jade, meanwhile, had the world's biggest grin on his face. He glanced at Azul, enjoying watching him mentally spiral. This was about to get good.

The interviewer pressed on, eyes practically sparkling. “Sounds like someone really special! Care to drop a hint for us?”

You laughed, a sound that made Azul’s pulse spike for entirely different reasons. “I don’t know if I should,” you teased. “But I guess I could say... they’ve been by my side every step of the way.”

Azul nearly dropped his clipboard. Wait, wait, wait. No way. No, it can’t be… Me? His mind was in chaos. There was no possible way, right?

Azul could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. His thoughts were racing at a million miles per hour. No, they’re definitely just being vague for the media. It’s probably all for the image... right?

Jade leaned over and whispered, loud enough for Azul to hear. “Sounds like they’re talking about someone we know, don’t you think?”

Azul shot him a panicked look. “It’s definitely not me,” he hissed. “They’re just... being friendly. It’s purely platonic. Definitely platonic.”

Jade’s smirk deepened. “If you say so.”

But the more confident you looked, the more Azul found himself spiraling. Your calm, collected attitude was doing something to him, stirring something deeper in his chest that he refused to acknowledge. Why were you so relaxed about this? Were you toying with the media for fun, or... were you serious?

Jade was, by now, thoroughly entertained, watching as Azul’s thoughts clearly spiraled. “Azul,” he said with mock seriousness, “I do believe you might need some water. You’re looking a little pale.”

Azul shot him a glare that could’ve frozen a lake. “I’m fine. They’re just being... vague.”

Jade hummed, unconvinced but highly amused.

But before Azul could continue to stew in his confusion, the interviewer asked the golden question. “So, this person... Is it someone from your current circle? Perhaps a certain... manager?”

Your smile widened. “Oh, absolutely. They’re in my circle. In fact... It is my manager.”

Azul’s heart skipped about six beats. He stared at you in complete shock, the world around him tilting slightly. No...

The interviewer gasped dramatically. “Your manager?! Really?”

"Yep," you replied breezily. "They’ve always been there for me, handling my career, keeping me on track... Honestly, I wouldn’t have come this far without them."

Azul's brain short-circuited. They’re talking about me... Wait, no. Maybe they mean it in a purely professional sense. Yeah. That’s got to be it. This is all just... a misunderstanding.

The interviewer was ecstatic. “That’s so sweet! So, you really admire them, huh?”

You met the interviewer’s gaze, your tone softening slightly. “Yeah... I do. A lot.”

Azul was trying very, very hard not to combust. His hands were shaking slightly, and Jade noticed, elbowing him with a wicked grin. “Still think it’s platonic, Azul?”

“I—” Azul stammered. “They... They must mean it... as a friend. Nothing more.”

Jade chuckled. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

The interview finally wrapped up, but the damage was done. You were trying not to laugh as you rejoined Azul and Jade, who were both staring at you with very different expressions. Jade looked like he was about to burst from the sheer amusement of it all, while Azul… Azul looked like he was desperately trying to figure out how to delete your entire existence from the timeline.

“Why did you—?” Azul started, but you just patted his arm, snickering.

“Oh, come on, Azul. Don’t worry so much. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?!” he practically screeched. “You just told the world you have feelings for me!”

“Yeah, and?” You shrugged nonchalantly, finding his distress far too entertaining. “Everyone’s gonna find out sooner or later.”

Azul ran his hands through his hair, clearly nearing a full-blown meltdown. “They’re going to think we’re… we’re together! People are going to start making assumptions! What if it affects your career? What if—”

Jade clapped him on the shoulder. “What if you stop panicking and actually consider that maybe… just maybe… they meant what they said?”

Azul was about to protest again when your phone buzzed. You checked it and burst out laughing. “Oh man, Azul, you’ve gotta see this.”

“NOOOO, THEY’RE IN LOVE???” “Who’s Azul and why haven’t we seen them kiss yet??” “Okay, but like… I can’t even be mad, this guy is hot.�� “I’m crying… I thought I had a chance 😭” “Azul? More like A-zuuulooooove 🥲” “Wait, isn’t he their manager? Damn, that’s hot.” “I SHIP IT SO HARD!!!” “Okay but let’s be real, they’re glowing lately, so Azul is probably good for them.” “I demand photos of them with this Azul!!! I need to see if he’s worthy!!” “AZUL IS LUCKY AF.” “I thought I was delusional, but NOPE, IT’S REAL!!!” “Lmfao, this is straight out of a K-drama. Is Azul secretly a billionaire?”

Azul just groaned, covering his face again. “I’m going to die.”

You patted his back with a grin. “Nah, you’ll be fine. Just think about all the fans you’re getting now.”

Jade was chuckling beside him. “Oh, I’m sure he’s enjoying this. Internally, he’s probably quite flattered.”

Azul just muttered something incomprehensible, which you chose to interpret as agreement.

All in all, it was probably the most entertaining interview of your life—though for poor Azul, it might have been the most traumatic.

It was supposed to be a routine day on set—a quick shoot, a few lines, and some light action. Nothing out of the ordinary. But of course, that was the day everything went wrong.

You hadn’t even realized anything was amiss at first. Just a small slip while rehearsing a particularly tricky scene. Sure, you scraped your knee, but it wasn’t exactly life-threatening. You shrugged it off as no big deal.

Except it was a big deal to Azul. Because the moment Floyd let slip that you had taken a “gnarly fall,” Azul exploded onto the set like he was auditioning for a telenovela himself.

The door to your dressing room burst open, and there he stood, eyes wide with horror. “You’ve been injured?!”

Before you could even respond, he was at your side, grabbing your hand and scanning you over with frantic intensity. “Where? Where does it hurt? Are you bleeding? Do we need an ambulance?”

“It’s just a scratch—”

“A scratch?! Scratches can get infected! We need antiseptics, bandages—perhaps we should take you to a hospital just in case!” Azul’s voice climbed higher with every word, his panic spiraling out of control.

Floyd, who was leaning against the doorframe, grinned mischievously. “Oh, it was brutal, boss. They were practically airborne, soaring through the air like a majestic seagull—”

“Floyd!” you interrupted, shooting him a glare. “I slipped, and my foot barely left the ground.”

“Details, details,” Floyd said, waving his hand dismissively. “But Azul’s right, you know. Maybe we should call in a medevac.”

Azul’s hands were now fluttering uselessly around your arms, his normally cool demeanor shattered into a thousand frantic pieces. “You could have a concussion! A torn ligament! Internal bleeding! We should get a full-body scan—what if this jeopardizes your career?”

You sighed, feeling both exasperated and oddly touched by his theatrics. “Azul, it’s a scraped knee. I’ll survive.”

But he wasn’t hearing it. “No, no, no. You don’t understand! This industry is cutthroat! We can’t risk even the slightest injury—what if this compromises your ability to walk in heels for a scene? Or worse, what if—"

Finally, you'd had enough. With one swift motion, you grabbed the lapels of his pristine suit and yanked him down to your level. Then, without hesitation, you pressed your lips to his.

Azul froze like someone had just poured a bucket of ice water over his head. His eyes went wide, his hands hovering in the air for a moment before slowly settling on your arms. You held the kiss for a few seconds, long enough for him to stop his rambling.

When you pulled back, Azul blinked, looking dazed and utterly bewildered. “Wha—what was that for?” he stammered, his cheeks flushed pink.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the expression on his face. “To shut you up. Honestly, you’re being ridiculous. It’s just a scratch, and I’m fine.”

“But—” he began, only to stop short when he noticed the faint smile on your face. Slowly, he let out a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing a little. “I… may have overreacted.”

“You think?” you teased, still holding onto his suit.

Azul cleared his throat, straightening his posture, though he couldn’t quite meet your eyes. “Well, I suppose I was a bit... concerned,” he admitted, his voice softer now, more vulnerable.

You raised an eyebrow. “A bit?”

His lips quirked up in a sheepish smile. “Fine, more than a bit.”

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, Azul still holding you close, his earlier panic replaced by a gentle fondness. “You really scared me,” he said quietly, his fingers brushing against your arm in a rare display of tenderness.

You softened at his words, letting go of his suit and resting your hand on his. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you so much.”

Azul exhaled, the tension finally melting away from his shoulders. “Well,” he said, his usual confidence slowly returning, “I suppose I’ll forgive you. But only if you promise to be more careful.”

You smirked. “I’ll try. But no more medical emergencies, okay?”

Azul gave you a soft smile, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your arm. “Agreed.”

Azul still had a hand resting on your arm when Floyd finally disappeared, but the mood shifted slightly, the weight of the moment sinking in. He glanced at you, and though the frantic energy had dissipated, there was still something lingering in his eyes—a hint of hesitation.

You decided to go for it.

“Azul,” you began, your voice soft yet steady, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

He blinked at you, his brows furrowing in concern. “You’re not seriously injured, are you? I knew we should’ve gotten a doctor—”

“No, Azul, it’s not about that,” you cut him off gently, grabbing his hand again to keep him from spiraling. “It’s… about us.”

That got his attention. His body stiffened, and his eyes widened a fraction. “Us?” he repeated, like he’d never heard the word before.

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest. “I didn’t want to say anything at first because I thought you were delibrately ignoring my confession. But I think… I’ve fallen for you.”

For a solid three seconds, Azul just stared at you. Not a blink. Not a twitch. It was like his entire brain had momentarily short-circuited. “Fallen for me?” he echoed slowly, like he was trying to translate a foreign language in his head. “You’re in love with me?”

“Yeah, that’s kind of what I said,” you teased lightly, though your pulse quickened. “What, is it really so hard to believe?”

Azul swallowed hard, his voice still unusually shaky. “I—well—yes, actually.”

You raised an eyebrow, half-expecting a quip or a deflection. “Why’s that?”

Azul suddenly seemed more flustered than when he thought you needed an ambulance. “I just assumed—well, this whole time I thought… I mean, I thought it was more of a… situationship,” he admitted, his voice dropping lower with each word, like he was embarrassed to even say it. “A temporary thing. Surely you couldn’t actually… love me.”

You let out a small laugh, though it was more affectionate than amused. “You’re really selling yourself short, Azul.”

He stared at you like he was still processing the information, eyes wide and blinking rapidly. “But I’m not… I mean, you could have someone better,” he mumbled, suddenly very interested in the floor.

You rolled your eyes, exasperated and endeared all at once. “Oh my god, Azul. You’re smart, funny, successful, and you care more than you let on. Why do you think I’ve stuck around this long?”

Azul’s cheeks were bright red by now, his lips parting slightly in a way that made him look like a fish out of water. “You… love me.” He repeated again, this time softer, almost like he was afraid to say it too loudly in case it turned out to be a joke.

You couldn’t help but laugh at how flabbergasted he looked. “Yes, Azul. I love you.”

He let out a breath he didn’t seem to realize he was holding, and for a moment, he just stood there, completely silent, his expression one of shock mixed with… something else. Something deeper, like a weight had finally been lifted off his shoulders.

Then, out of nowhere, his hands tightened on your arms, and before you could react, he pulled you into his chest in a sudden, desperate hug. His grip was so tight you were sure he was never going to let go.

“I-I love you, too,” he said, voice muffled against your hair. “I didn’t know how to say it… I thought you’d want something… less complicated than me.”

You smiled, pressing your face into his chest and letting the warmth of his embrace wash over you. “You’re more than worth the complications, Azul.”

His arms loosened just enough to pull back and look at you, eyes glistening just a little, his expression softer than you’d ever seen. “I can’t believe this,” he murmured, almost in disbelief. “I thought—well, I thought you’d tire of me.”

You wiped away a stray tear that had slipped from his eye, your heart swelling. “I don’t think I ever could, even if I tried.”

For a moment, he looked like he might cry again, but he quickly blinked it away, clearing his throat as he attempted to regain some composure. “You’re sure you’re not concussed? Perhaps this is the result of head trauma…”

You laughed, swatting his shoulder playfully. “I’m sure.”

Azul cracked a smile, though he still looked a bit overwhelmed. “Well… I suppose this changes everything.”

Before you could respond, the door creaked open again, and Floyd poked his head in with a devilish grin. “Sooo, I guess I should cancel that medevac, huh?”

Azul groaned, but this time it was more out of exasperated affection than anything else. “Floyd…”

Floyd snickered, winking at you as he sauntered in. “Aww, look at you two, all lovey-dovey. Makes me wanna puke.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Floyd grinned wider. “Nah, I think I’ll stick around. Never know when you might trip and need mouth-to-mouth.”

Azul threw a water bottle at him. “Out!”

Floyd dodged it easily, laughing as he slipped back out the door, leaving the two of you alone again.

Azul sighed, shaking his head, though there was a faint smile on his lips. “He’s never going to let us live this down, is he?”

“Nope, and neither is Jade.” you said, grinning. “But that’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”

Azul looked at you, his gaze soft and warm. “Together.”

“So,” you said after a moment, pulling away just enough to look up at him, “now that we’ve got that sorted, how about we go celebrate? Dinner? Something fancy?”

Azul’s eyes gleamed with excitement, the business side of him flickering to life. “I happen to know a very exclusive place. The best seafood in town, I assure you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Seafood? After the whole shark tank incident?”

Azul blinked before laughing, realizing the irony. “Alright, maybe something more… neutral.”

And as you glanced at Azul, his hand warm and secure in yours, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, the universe had thrown you into this crazy situation for a reason. After all, who else could say their manager turned out to be the love of their life?

Azul Ashengrotto, the shark in a suit, was all yours.

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Masterlist

Okay the azul brainrot was real here, it went from 1k to 2k and i then suddenly was committed to a 10k fic Fun fact: The hay witch thing came from a movie idea that my friends and i came up with while being completely wasted.

[consoledacup]

Ode to the Street Scene

I really thought my favorite scene was the wedding dance. It cuts away to no one in the room, and my heart just swells from the romance. And that cheek caress at the end? Butterflies!

But every time I rewatch, I have to pause the show and just sit with certain beats of my actual favorite scene because I'm so overcome. The writing is so fantastically good. Verica's directing is perfect. The scoring is angsty and beautiful. And Luke and Nicola deliver incredible performances. The give-and-take of this fight is exceptional, and their chemistry is electric.

This confrontation is one that is years in the making. And as they fight, they address all of it. He's only known about her Whistledown identity for a short time, so this fight was always going to be incredibly heightened and passionate. But we also get so much truth in this exchange, too.

Colin's leaving the saddest stag party ever. I'm sure he also felt weirdly guilty for not being ecstatic about it. Especially because the three gentlemen with him witnessed Colin-heart eyes-Bridgerton not a week ago. So they notice something is wrong, and he really doesn't want to talk about it.

Penelope's leaving her good friend and business confidant. And I love the little hesitation Genevieve has before asking Penelope if she'd continue publishing. She adores Penelope and has been such a fantastic support for her. So although Penelope feels like she's unworthy of Colin after everything that has happened, Genevieve is steadfast in encouraging her to not give up a huge part of herself.

So they run into each other, and Colin is immediately furious. He is shocked to see her, his Pen, out alone at night. And then he's like, well, she's Whistledown. She was doing this all along, right under my nose, having a laugh. And Penelope can probably smell the alcohol on him and is fed up with being the bad guy at this point. So she bates him because good grief, can he just look at her??

And he immediately lays into her. I really love Luke's rhythmic delivery here:

After all of the secrets you have kept, all of the things you have written over the years, all of the damage you have done.

And I love how Penelope immediately takes responsibility and apologizes. Two people have found out about her identity prior to Colin. Genevieve needs no explanation for why Penelope did what she did. And Eloise is so heartbroken and betrayed and humiliated, she has no room for Penelope's motivations.

But as angry as Colin is, he listens. And they go through her past transgressions, point by point. He asks about Eloise, as the protective brother he is, and receives a somewhat satisfactory response.

And then he asks about Marina, and Penelope is essentially like, I was saving you. For White Knight Colin Bridgerton, that is almost too much for him to take. If we go back to that scene when Penelope tells Colin about George, she purposely leaves out her pregnancy. That was deliberate. She might've gotten dismissed by him and interrupted by Marina, but she was always going to lead with, "well, she has a lover back home." Because she was terrified Colin would mount his white horse and see it as his duty to rescue Marina all the same. As a 17-year-old girl, who had incredible power, she saw no choice but to manipulate his future. That was a bad move, and she knows it.

Which is why he's like, do you really have that little respect for me? Because he reveals what cuts him the most. Whistledown called him out, belittling him. And then he finds out that the most important person in his life, his entire world, wrote that about him. And is that truly how she feels about him when he thinks she hung the moon and stars?

And that's when this fight takes a turn as Penelope lays bare everything she loves about him. She was like, I missed you just like you missed me. Here's where I praise Nicola's rhythmic delivery:

It's you. Kind, feeling, occasionally excitable good-hearted man who I love.

Even the way she says "man who I love" is just so matter-of-fact. Of course she loves him. When is he gonna get that?

Every episode this season, we see Penelope subtly gain more and more confidence. Which is why this payoff is so delicious because she has finally developed the confidence, that he helped her find, to stand up to him.

So he takes that all in, and in an almost hopeful way, he's like, well, I helped you gain confidence, and you have me now, so you really don't need Whistledown, right? You don't need to be more powerful than me. And she's a little taken aback by his plea but stands her ground, patiently explaining why Whistledown is important. Which breaks his heart because he feels that, deep down, Penelope surpasses him in talent and ambition.

Remember their engagement party when Penelope and Eloise take turns answering the riddles? He is proud of Penelope, and he is concerned something is going on with her, but he is also, plainly, jealous. Anthony obviously steals the scene with his competitiveness, but you see Colin sitting up a little straighter, wanting to impress everyone else with his quick wit. And each time Penelope or Eloise get the answer right, he deflates a little. He's always known Penelope to be incredibly smart, but now that he's desperately in love with her, he is terrified that she doesn't see him as her intellectual equal. And his fears are confirmed when he finds out she's the sharpest tongue in the ton.

He's honest about how patronized he feels, thinking about her hyping up his journal. His eyes are welling up because good god, he does not understand why she just won't choose him over Whistledown. And he chooses that moment to assert his physical dominance and join her on the step so he towers over her. He goes for broke, berating her for her carelessness, and she's not having it.

And this interplay between Luke and Nicola is like a perfect volley:

I have been careful.

You have been foolish.

Colin, I can take care of myself.

Then what good am I to you?!

And Penelope just snaps. She tells him she loves him which snaps him out of his spiral, and they finally allow their passion for each other to take over. And their physicality shows how relieved they feel in each others' embrace. Their kiss is like coming home, and they're like, thank GOD you want me like I still want you.

They're not thinking much else, but I do wonder if Colin in the back of his mind is like, she may not need my brain or my protection, and I have no title, and I can only provide her a townhome, but by god, I can give her pleasure. I think it says something that Colin's go-to move is his hands. He wants to bring her to ecstasy as expediently as possible, finding his own pleasure in hers.

Thankfully, they are interrupted because they really don't need another scandal. They were debauching each other in the street! That is an absolutely wild thing for them to do, and Colin has enough wherewithal to keep her shielded, quickly falling into his coveted protector role.

He holds her hand and walks her to her carriage. Their goodbye is tense, but he assures her that she doesn't have to worry about him. He will be at the church on time. He is still choosing a life with her, and is, of sound mind and body, intentionally entering into a union with Lady Whistledown. And then he watches her carriage leave.

Perfect, heartbreaking, passionate, angsty, emotional, sexy, honest, cathartic, electric, romantic scene from start to finish.

[the-apocrypha]

Cottagecore Series DVD Bonus Features

By popular request: the deleted scenes of how Dream and Hob ended up confessing their respective Big Secrets to one another. Below the cut are a series of conversations that take place a few days after Dream announces his pregnancy with Orpheus, and they are incredibly angsty. They also heavily feature abortion as a conversation topic. These were originally written to intercut with at least two miracles but didn't end up working out due to tone issues, and also don't really work as a standalone fic, so. If you're interested--enjoy!

The possibility of a child—their child, their own, of them—had occasionally crossed Hob’s mind, in the same way that other fantastical things like dragons and public libraries did. Fleeting. Unformed. Simple, wonderful little daydreams. 

The reality of it was both impossibly more exciting and terrifying than he could have ever imagined. 

Hob thought of a beautiful child with tiny pointed ears and glowing amber eyes. He thought of a babe born to the world still and pale, never to draw a single breath of life. He thought of all the stories his mother used to tell him, the skipping games and the toy swords and songs that lived inside of him, waiting to be passed down to someone small and new. He thought of a fae child, enamored of the forest and magic and books of learning, with little use for its mortal father. 

Once, when Hob was young, his mother had been called to help an ewe who had been laboring for the better part of the day. Twin lambs, both trying to emerge at the same time.

They’d had mutton for dinner, that night. And for many nights after that. 

Hob could not stop thinking about it. About everything.

What if the child came out completely human. 

What if the child came out completely fae. 

“You told me once,” Hob said, the words leaving his mouth even as lead weights sank pits into his stomach, even as his heart said don’t ask this don’t ask this don’t do it, but he had to, he had to know. “You told me once. That it took you a very long time to grow up.” 

Dream paused. “Yes,” he said, at length. “But time in the realm of the fae is not so… linear as it is here. It is—it was subject to neither law nor order. Time was fickle. Changeable.” 

“You said that it was almost a hundred years.” 

“That was… a guess,” Dream said. 

Hob stared. 

“It was unusual,” Dream added. He did not meet Hob’s eyes. “It. It was a choice I made. The rest of my siblings came of age much faster than I.” 

“How fast?” Hob asked, heart in his throat. 

Dream swallowed. 

“How fast?” 

“The child is half mortal, Hob it should not—it will not age as a fae child would. It cannot, it—it will not have the same power, the same gifts, and moreover, the laws of this universe would not allow—” 

“Oh, you know that, do you?” Hob asked, eyebrows raised. “Like you knew that a mortal man couldn’t get you pregnant in the first place?” 

Dream flinched. 

Hob sighed, and scrubbed at his face. “I’m just. I’m just thinking. We don’t know what we’re going to get, eight months from now—” If they were going to get anything at all. “—and we’ve got zero precedent to go off of, here. It. It could be anything. It could grow like a human and take sixteen years and be done. But, it could also…” 

“It will not,” Dream said, but there was a traitorous wobble in his voice.

“It could,” Hob insisted. “It could, Dream, and we just. I just want to be prepared for that. I want you to be prepared for that.” 

Dream stared, like the whole world was crashing down around him. As if he had not considered this at all. “No.” 

“Yes.” 

“Hob—” 

“But, listen—listen, it’ll be okay,” Hob said hurriedly, and took Dream’s hands into his own. Put on the bravest face he could muster. “Whatever happens, it’ll be okay. I promise. I’ll be with you every step of the way, for. For as long as I can be. Even if it means being stuck in the terrible twos for an entire decade. You just might have to do the teenage years on your own, that’s all. And. You know. The thousand years that come after that.” 

Dream closed his eyes. 

Hob tried desperately to rally. “And, hey! The good news is, at least I won’t be around to give any dodgy sex talks when it comes time for that, since I obviously—” 

“Hob,” Dream said. 

“Though clearly pregnancy prevention isn’t your strong suit either,” Hob allowed. 

“Hob.” 

Dream’s eyes were open again, and they were full of tears. 

“Hob,” Dream said again, and it caught in his throat. “Hob, I—I am not going to live for another thousand years.” 

Hob frowned. “But—”

“I made,” Dream said, and with the next blink the tears spilled over, “a bargain.” 

The reason that Hob had kept it a secret for so long (was because he was a coward) was because, in his opinion, there had been no good that would come of the truth. 

Dream had assumed that the people of Eskham had turned against Hob for being a hedgewitch. He’d assumed in turn that mortals were prejudiced against any being with magic, which was a category that happened to include the fae but more importantly included Hob, who did not have the ability to summon tornadoes or fell ancient oaks. Dream still sweetly seethed about the injustices Hob’s own people had done upon him. He had yet to even once seem concerned for his own safety. 

This was fair. 

Dream had, after all, taken out an entire village of mortals in one wrothful fell swoop. 

Now, Dream had confessed what had happened in the aftermath of that massacre—what he had so readily sacrificed, to save Hob’s life—and it had been devastating in its own right. It had left Hob awake at night, imagining what it would be like to grow older and older and older, while his child did not. 

But it had also pulled on the string that unraveled whatever remained of their tapestried joy at the possibility of impending parenthood. The happiness was gone. The happiness should never have existed in the first place, because the ache of its absence was far worse than to have never known it at all. Hob could not believe he ever felt such simple, mindless elation at what had quickly become a question to which every answer was more horrifying than the last. 

Hob thought of a babe with perfectly pointed ears, stolen away in the night, drowned in the river. 

Hob thought of a child with huge, phosphorescent eyes, tied to a stake above a pile of dried tinder. Screaming.

Hob thought of black-nailed teenager who had had forty-odd years of childhood with its parents before they succumbed to old age, and left their child alone in a world it did not belong in. Orphaned. Ostracized. Hunted. 

It filled Hob’s stomach and left him unable to eat. It pressed down on his chest at night, and he could not sleep. 

And he knew what he needed to do. 

At the same table where Dream had confessed not three days ago, Hob sat himself heavily on the bench. 

Dream stared back wanly. He’d spent most of the morning vomiting copiously, which perhaps made this timing even worse, but Hob knew if he did not say it now he might never say it at all. 

“Dream,” Hob said carefully. The words stuck in his throat like glass, and they tore him open one by one as he forced them out. “There’s. The other day, when you told me about the bargain you made. I—there’s something that I should. Something I should have told you, before—something. Something.” He swallowed. “Something I. Something.” His nails dug into his palms. His heart was pounding in his ears. “Something—” 

“Hob.” 

Dream’s hand splayed across his chest is like ice on fire. Hob sucked in a breath, and relished the burn. 

He seized Dream’s hand in his own. Looked Dream in the eyes. Prepared to pull this one last thread of sanity for the person he loved more than anything in this world. 

“Something,” Hob said unevenly, holding onto Dream like a lifeline, “that I should have told you a long time ago. About. About Eskham.” 

Dream tilted his head, brows drawing together. “Eskham?” 

Hob nodded. 

“What about it?” Dream asked. 

He had no idea. He had no clue. 

“That day,” Hob said, and he was gripping Dream’s hand hard as if he could prevent the inevitable withdrawal. “When they came for me.” 

And Dream nodded. He reached out with his other hand to rest it on Hob’s forearm—a gesture meant as supportive that only served to make Hob’s stomach drop to new depths. 

But this was not about him. This was not even about Dream. It was about their child, carried one day into a town square with pitchforks at its throat and devil spawn in its ears. It was about deserved truths. 

“That day,” Hob said again. He swallowed against a dry tongue. Against the heart that was trying to escape through his throat. “That day. The mob. They weren’t looking for me.”

Dream stared. 

Hob’s heart was pounding so hard he thought he might be sick. 

He watched, as Dream’s face went from confusion, to realization, to—

Bloodless. 

Grey. Dead eyes and parted lips. Staring, but not seeing. 

“I—defended you,” Hob made himself say. “I wouldn’t tell them. Where you were. I told them that I loved you, that you were just as natural as any other creature in this realm and that I would rather die before I let any of them hurt you, and—” 

Dream yanked his hands back. 

Hob tried to hold on, but he wasn’t quick enough. Not strong enough. 

“You,” Dream whispered. 

“I don’t regret it,” Hob said frantically, almost angrily. He was losing control, the tidal wave of panic and horror sweeping him out to a roiling sea he could not swim in, and he barely knew which words would leave his mouth when he opened it again. “I haven’t regretted it for a single second, Dream, not once, not ever, I’d have burned on that stake a thousand times over before I let them touch you, I’d—” 

And Dream bolted. 

Hob leapt to his feet to follow—but his calf muscle seized, and he careened to the side and just barely managed to grab the table at the last second. Stood there, panting, gripping the table as his calf cramped hard enough to render the entire leg useless. Staring at the empty doorway. 

He deserved this, he supposed. 

It didn’t make it hurt any less. 

The summer air was thick and sweet beneath the canopy of the forest. The trees mostly blocked the breeze, but so also the warmth of the sun, which made it about as pleasant as any place was during the midday heat. They were sat at the base of an ancient yew tree that Dream favored, not far from the cottage, and had been for some time. Ravens chattered and rustled softly overhead. A large halo of bird shit was slowly accumulating around them. 

Dream inhaled as if to speak, for the third time in about as many minutes. This time, though, the words came. 

“I do not want. Our child. To be hunted.” 

Hob closed his eyes. “I know.” 

“We do not know what powers it will be born to. What features it will be born to.” 

Unspoken—the slimmest chance, the highest hope, that it would somehow be born wholly mortal. 

A mortal body. A mortal magic. A mortal lifespan. 

“We’ll do whatever we have to, to protect them. Whatever it takes. You know we will,” Hob said, and even as anxiety turned his stomach over, rage flared through him hot and fast. “Anyone that tries to lay a finger on our child, I’ll—I’ll kill ‘em. I would. Anyone. Everyone. And if they think I’m terrifying just wait until they meet the thirty-foot forest nightmare right behind me that can summon hail and rent the earth.” 

Dream swallowed. “Hail and earth. Did not save you.” 

Hob tightened his grip around Dream’s waist. “Yes it did.” 

“You—” 

“Yes it bloody well did. You saved my life that day, you fought, and if you hadn’t been there I—” 

“If I had not been there,” Dream interrupted darkly. He barked one harsh, bitter laugh. “If I had never inflicted myself upon you in the first place, then no mob would have ever come for you at all. You would be—” 

“Lonely,” Hob said. He tried desperately to keep the frustration from rising. “I told you. I would have been lonely, and bored, Dream, and I would have died in that house feeling as if I’d never truly lived at all. You are the best thing to ever happen to me.” 

“I nearly killed you,” Dream said. 

“You saved—”

“And now,” Dream continued, staring into the depths of the forest, “I have attempted to thrust a child upon you, without your consent. I have tried to sentence you to spending the rest of your meager years consumed in the care of a creature that will only suffer as a result of my own hubris—my own selfishness—and it will resent us. It will hate us. It will hate me, and it will be right to do so for—” 

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey,” Hob said, scrambling around in front of Dream, and cupping his face. 

Dream stared determinedly to the side, with eyes that were red-rimmed and shiny. His breaths came uneven and jagged. 

“You and I both know that you didn’t get pregnant on purpose,” Hob said fiercely. “You didn’t know better. I didn’t know better. Right?” 

“Hob—” 

“This isn’t something that you’ve done to me. To us. Neither one of us is to blame here. Not one little bit. And it wouldn’t matter anyway if it was, because whatever happens, you know that we’re in this together. We’re going to do what we always do, and make it work. Figure it out. Pregnancy, childbirth, parenthood, all of it. Together. Yeah?” 

Dream set his jaw, and at last met Hob’s eyes. Slowly, he reached up, and pulled Hob’s hands away from his face. 

“You argue. That we are absolved of any guilt, for what strife our child may face in life. Because we held no intention of conception, in our couplings,” Dream said. 

“...Yes?” Hob said, eyebrows raising. “I don’t think we can be blamed for bringing a child into the world when we didn’t know it was possible in the first place.” 

“Incorrect,” Dream disagreed. 

Hob opened his mouth, but Dream continued too quickly. 

“Ignorance acquits us from blame in the conception of this child, yes.” Dream’s hand moved, in the periphery of Hob’s vision, delving into the folds of his robe. “But we are not without agency, in these early months of pregnancy.” 

Dread swung sudden and hard into Hob’s chest, like a fist. 

“...What do you mean?” 

Dream held out his hand between them, and uncurled his fingers. A cluster of flowers rested there. 

Tansy. 

“It sings to me of… release,” Dream said. His thumb brushed over golden petals like spikes. “Of choice. Liberty. Of the harmonization of poison and medicine, as one.”

Hob took in a deep breath, because he was, for the first time in days, hopeful. 

Hob was also terrified. 

Hob was sick, sick, sick, sick. 

“I believe,” Dream whispered, eyes boring in Hob’s, “that it would be enough. To—take care of it.” 

There was a cup of water on the table, steaming and yellow with tansy. 

Choice, Dream said it sang. Release. Liberty. The harmonization of poison and medicine, as one. 

But to Hob, it was silent as a grave. 

Dream was holding the cup so tightly his knuckles had gone white. The steam had long disappeared from the cup, leaving only a stagnant yellow tonic. Hob had offered to leave the cottage twice and allow Dream some privacy, and on the second time Dream had grabbed his hand, hard, and he hadn’t let go since. 

Hob’s fingers ached where they were threaded through Dream’s, but he did not complain. 

He sat in silence, and watched Dream raise the cup to his mouth. 

Watched him inhale. 

Watched him close his eyes. 

Watched him press the rim of the cup to his lips. 

Watched as Dream froze, and was perfectly still for an eternity save for the tremble of the cup in his grasp—

And the cup slammed down onto the table, sloshing poison everywhere, and Dream gasped, “I cannot. I cannot, forgive me, Hob, I—” 

Hob grabbed him and pulled him in hard. “It’s okay—” 

“—I cannot do it, I cannot—” 

“—you don’t have to—” 

“I should,” Dream snarled, gripping the fabric of Hob’s tunic and pushing back. There were tears streaming down his face. “I should end it, I should be rid of it. It is. It is the only humane option, the only option that guarantees that—that—” 

“I know, love,” Hob said miserably, his own throat going tight and hot. “I know that. But—” 

“Hob,” Dream choked out. He tried to inhale, but could not. “Hob, I can—hear it.” 

Hob’s heart skipped a beat, and his mouth went numb. “Y-you—” 

“I can—” Dream slapped his hands over his mouth. He stared at Hob in horror. 

Dream, who could hear the songs of river stones and the herbs in the garden. Who communed with foxes and ancient oak trees alike. Who had come to Hob with news of this pregnancy but without explanation as to how he knew. 

“You can hear it,” Hob repeated blankly. 

“I should not have told you,” Dream said, shaking his head. His eyes were blank and unseeing and wet with tears. “I. I should not have told you, I told myself I would not, I—it should not matter. It does not matter.” 

“What does it sound like?” Hob asked. 

Dream looked up at him. His mouth opened, but no words came out. 

“Dream, what does it sound like?” 

He shouldn’t ask. 

He couldn’t not know. 

“Like. A songbird,” Dream whispered. 

A songbird. 

“The most beautiful—” Dream choked on a sob. “The most beautiful songbird, Hob, the most wonderful songbird in the world.” 

And Hob. Hob, quite abruptly, could not imagine a world where he did not one day get to hear that song. He could not imagine a world in which he did not get to hold their child in his arms this winter and instantly fall in love with whatever features the world had seen fit to give them, mortal or fae or some splendid combination of both. 

He could not imagine what it would be like, for Dream to sit at this table and drink down poison and then listen to the song of their child go silent. 

Dream sobbed in his arms. He begged for forgiveness—from Hob. Their future child. The universe. I have failed, he said, over and over again. Selfish, and weak, and worthless, he named himself, and he would not be consoled with any combination or repetition of words Hob had to offer. 

But still, the tansy sat untouched. 

Eventually, it went out the window. 

And the songbird lived another day.

[ampresandian]

Okay so season 1 was definitely Percy's story like between the flashbacks and his development over the quest The Lightning Thief is Percy's Story. The whole series is Percy's story but the way they produced the first season of the show is especially Percy's, and I need them to continue to develop this in the rest of the seasons.

Season 2, Sea of Monsters, should definitely be Annabeth's. Percy (and the readers) get to know her better--she opens up to him about her past, not just introducing him to the world they share (the Olympians) but to Her World and How it Got to Be that Way. We see more of how who Percy is impacts her (esp with Tyson), and she takes on a lot of responsibility for saving their quest. Unlike the Arch or Crusty, Annabeth is the one that saves them from Circe and takes on Polyphemus one on one.

Season 3 I think is Thalia's. It's the only chance we really have, as readers, to get to know her--we're thrown into her relationship with Percy at the beginning of the book, after our only introduction to her being her saying her name at the end of som, but we travel with her on this quest, and I think flashbacks, etc. in this season should be about her. It's the best way to let the audience get to know her, and I think we need to get to know her to understand her choice at the end (and to be excited when we see her again later). We need that her sudden disappearance at the end, when she leaves without saying goodbye and just as suddenly as she appeared she's gone, to hurt and to feel wrong and making her the Character is the way to do that imo.

Botl in season 4 I think is tricky at first glance (esp since we've given Annabeth som already) but tbh it needs to be Grover's. Flashbacks can be about his time in schools as a protector, and his time searching for Pan. Grover's development is kind of sudden in this story, but I think showing him when he's younger and like as he's been off Doing Things it would be more dramatic and honestly Grover is a fantastic character that Rick seems to forget about/ignore a lot and he should make it up by showing us what his life is like when he's not with Percy (which is increasingly often) and letting us see his independence develop to the point that he's ready to take on his new mantle and be a leader.

Season 5 is obviously Luke's. Even the book is written like that. We need flashbacks to his life and childhood just as much as Percy does, and they need to humanize him and let us empathize with who he was and how he got to who he is by the end of the story before he dies. I think they should give us flashbacks to his quest here, too, and probably the conversation he clearly has with Hermes before he goes on it (he's obviously bitter when he talks about it in tlt, and he had to get his magic shoes, and I think they need to utilize having that conversation in person so we can see how Hermes tries and fails to relate to him and also to make LMM make very very sad eyes as Luke leaves because he knows his son is at the end of his time as a hero). They can milk this for all the comparisons between Luke and Percy. I think flashbacks to his claiming, and not having to move cabins but probably like getting a bed or something now that he's here Forever, and when he becomes the Cabin Counselor. How/when he meets up with Thalia. Him seeking out fights as they make their way to camp. The battles he fights on his quest, facing monsters he's working with now, getting the scar.

[asgardian--angels]

Izzy Discourse Masterpost

Hey all, given the amount of awful splintering and wank happening in ofmd fandom rn regarding Izzy's death, including the flat-out immature and unacceptable harassment of David Jenkins and Co, I wanted to just make this one all-encompassing post to address the various grievances and complaints I've seen (almost entirely on Twitter). If I've missed anything, please feel free to add on. I'm putting most of this under a read-more for length.

Please be aware, I say all of this as an Izzy fan. I've loved his character since season 1, and while I was sad to see him go, I completely understand and support David & Co's reasons for concluding his arc, and I think it was done respectfully in a way fitting to his character. So let's break down some of the takes I've seen. I am not referencing specific posts or people here, I just want to address the general themes that I keep seeing about why some people are upset.

Izzy's death served no narrative purpose.

Look, this is one that I'm sure fans will debate for the rest of the hiatus. It's completely within your right to disagree with this writing choice, but Izzy's death did serve a narrative purpose in the story that David Jenkins is telling - and he has spoken to this end in several interviews already. I can only summarize here, and fans may find other perspectives in time as well. What we need to remember is that Our Flag Means Death is, at the end of the day, Ed and Stede's love story. That has been made abundantly, explicitly clear. The show has been fantastic at fleshing out the other supporting characters, but that's what they are - supporting characters. They often have their own subplots but ultimately the narrative seeks to move Ed and Stede's story forward and they are tools to spur Ed and Stede's growth or mirror their struggles. Izzy has been a wonderfully complex, multifaceted character but we must remember that all characters are vessels through which stories are told, lessons are imparted, and metaphors are established. He's not a real person who 'deserves' any particular fate. David said he's always intended for Izzy to die at the end of his arc.

Firstly, Izzy (now canonically, through his own dying words) represents part of Blackbeard. He enabled and encouraged Ed's darker side, they were mutually toxic forces to each other. Ed is attempting to cope with and move on from this phase of his life, and like Stede in season 1, set out a free man, unshackled by expectations and loose ends of those he's hurt and been hurt by (though we realize this is an ongoing process that takes time). This lovely gifset sums it up nicely, with Izzy being the Mary parallel, and making s2 mirror s1. Blackbeard is both Ed and Izzy; Ed cannot be free of Blackbeard while Izzy is in his life, and when Izzy is gone he will never truly be Blackbeard again. They are each other's rotting leg!! Yet, they love each other - and David has said that for Ed, this has developed into a mentor and father relationship, and where Ed has previously despised his father figures (his actual father, Hornigold) he does not want to lose Izzy. This time, Izzy brings out Ed, not Blackbeard - and that's where we get the callback to 'there he is', bringing their impact on each other full circle, freeing Ed, getting approval of sorts that he never had, to be soft, to be loved (and there are parallels to Zheng and Auntie here as well that others have made) from that force that drove him to stay in line all this time. David has said in multiple interviews now that he was going for the idea of the mentor/father figure dying and the hero living on and trying to do justice to them.

From Izzy's side, Izzy cannot be free while Edward remains either (Mary cannot find peace while Stede remains). The scar never truly healed, the leg will always be a reminder. At this point the argument becomes 'yes, but why did he have to die? Why not just sail off with the crew of the Revenge?' David has stated that he feels they've done everything they can with, and for, Izzy; he's come leagues from season 1, he's found community, he's found hope, he's found new parts of himself, and he's made good memories. He's found worth outside of what he can be to others. That's more than most pirates could hope for. Where would his character go from there, when the Golden Age of Piracy he belongs to has burned to the ground? Would he stay around and whittle on the Revenge? If he were a real person, yes, that would be lovely, and he'd deserve all the quiet peaceful happiness in the world. But as I explain several points below, he's not interested in being a captain. He's not up for the hard physical labor of regular crew, and he's extremely overqualified for that besides. He has served his narrative purpose, and symbolically, to enter a new age, everything must go. He's connected to the old age of piracy, to the Republic of Pirates, that is now demolished. To him, fighting for what he believes in, for the family he's found, bringing down an army of British twats in the process, is how he should go. It's a pirate's death, and as Izzy's said, he's a pirate - unlike Blackbeard who's succeeding in breaking away from piracy, Izzy never wanted to stop being a pirate, throughout his arc. To me, that's why Izzy remains trapped in the narrative, trapped in history, whereas Ed and Stede will escape history. They leave piracy, and canon, behind, while Izzy was content to remain a pirate and face a pirate's fate.

Burying him on land, right next to Ed and Stede's beach house, shows that his sacrifice was not in vain - they start this new life together, thanks to Izzy's mentorship, his role in their lives that sometimes for worse, sometimes for better, made their love what it was and made their breakaway possible. The new age is built on the foundations of the old age, and is stronger for it.

As we're well aware by now, David tweeted that there's no version of ofmd without Izzy. Whether that's literal or not, symbolically it's true. Izzy's arc of growth affected everyone on the Revenge. Jim fondly remembered fighting for a time when life meant something on that ship; the crew helped give Izzy new meaning in life, and he helped them in return. When he dies, they mourn and have a funeral; that wouldn't have happened under Blackbeard's watch in episode 2. His life meant something to them. He influenced Ed and Stede immensely, and they will take that with them. As David's said, they're all a family, and Izzy was a part of that family, and his loss unites them and brings them closer to continue to fight for that family they've built. It's a tragic, sudden death of someone they've all grown to care for, and that steels their reserve to keep the torch lit. They literally sail off into the sunset to hunt down Ricky to avenge Izzy; he will always be a part of this show. And, of course, with the brief appearance of seagull Buttons, the door is left open for anything.

If this was The Izzy Show, then sure, we'd be content to see him simply engaged in shenanigans every episode. But the plot, and therefore the characters, need to keep moving forward, and Izzy got his growth and development. He got what he needed for his character to have closure, and he served his symbolic narrative purpose in Ed's (and Stede's) story. You may have your own ideas and perspectives, and that's great - that's what fandom is for. But we cannot say his death was pointless when David Jenkins and the writers clearly had a well-defined motive for pushing the narrative in this direction. I actually think the narrative around Ed and Izzy is the most well-developed in the entire show. I for one am so happy we got such an interesting and complex character, and had the brilliant Con O'Neill to portray him.

Izzy's growth & healing arc was rendered pointless by his death.

As this post so eloquently puts it, it's pretty bleak to have the outlook that taking steps to heal and find meaning in life is worthless if it's later lost. Seeking happiness and self-actualization is worthwhile for its own sake; no one knows what's down the road, and we all die eventually. Find meaning in life now. Would you rather have had Izzy not miss with his bullet in ep2? He was given the chance to experience joy, freedom, and hope for the first time in potentially a long time, and when he died he did so with those happy memories. As mentioned, Izzy's death was decided long beforehand given the narrative, and the point of storytelling is to make you feel emotions. We were given impetus to connect and relate to Izzy's character through his process of healing, so when he did die, we felt it keenly. That's how stories work actually! We felt what Ed felt. It moved us. It's not a bad thing that Izzy's arc made him more likeable to fans before his death. It's not a bad thing to lose a beloved character - guess what, it happens constantly in stories - and it's not bad to grieve over it either, but to say that it made his journey pointless is just not true. People saying that Con must be upset that they snatched his character away from him after getting to develop him so much - again I say, would you rather him have died in ep 2 before he had the chance to grow? Or how about in s1, when the crew tried to mutiny? How'd you feel when Stede killed him in his dream, in the very first scene of the season? I think Con's probably glad for the opportunity to have explored this character so much in season 2. Ask him if he thinks it was pointless.

Killing off Izzy was bad for queer rep/burying your gays/"Izzy was the queer heart of the show"

I'm putting 'bury your gays' on the top shelf so people can't use it when it doesn't actually apply. Most of the main cast of characters in this show are queer, and it's a show about pirates with a good amount of violence. Ergo, chances are a queer character will die in the course of Things Happening In Stories. Izzy didn't die because he was queer, and he wasn't the token queer rep. Please turn your attention to the boatloads (literally) of queer characters that are happy and thriving (how about the LuPete wedding immediately afterwards??). As for Izzy being the "queer heart of the show," this is literally the Ed and Stede show. You know, the two queer leads whose queer love the show revolves around, per David Jenkins himself. I'm glad folks connected with and derived joy from Izzy's growth and especially his performance in Calypso's birthday, but he is not the main character of the show. The queer heart of the show is in fact, the entire show, all of their characters and the community & found family they create aboard the Revenge. Not to mention the fan community as well. Izzy was never carrying the show's representation on his back, and frankly that's an absurdly wild take to have (esp when he spent most of s1 actively working against the main queer relationships in the show, attempting to maintain the oppressive status quo of pirate society).

It was bad and irresponsible to have a suicidal character die

Are we forgetting the entire first half of the season where Ed, who was suicidal, kept trying to passively kill himself because he felt he was an unlovable monster, only to be shown that he is in fact loved unconditionally and it gives him the strength to fight for life and triumph against his own self-doubt? The show has spent quite a lot of effort telling viewers that despite feeling damaged or broken you are worthy of love and that you are loved even if it may be hard to see it when you're in a bad place. That you don't need to be fully healed to deserve love and care, and that love and support will help you along your journey. It's incredibly wild to disregard this major plot point and fundamental message of s2 to try and spin this the opposite way for Izzy's character.

Secondly, where are people getting 'Izzy is suicidal' from? Are we going back all the way to episode 2, when he's at his lowest point and fails at his suicide attempt, only to be figuratively reborn after removing the metaphorical rotten leg? By the time of the finale he's shown to be in a good place, thanks to the arc of healing and growth he's gotten, through the support of the Revenge crew and his 'breakup' with Blackbeard allowing him to find his own way in life, realizing he doesn't need a purpose to have value and enjoying his time on the Revenge and the bonds he's made with Stede and the crew. He is, in the words of Ivan, "the most open and available I've ever seen him" by the finale. To take episode 2 as evidence he's suicidal is to erase his whole season of growth, which is an ironic thing to do in the context of these arguments. There's no canon evidence Izzy Hands was suicidal post-'Fun and Games'.

As for 'irresponsible,' once again I say, David Jenkins is not your therapist, he's not 'Dad,' and has no responsibility to tell his story any other way than he intended to tell it. Please find media that gives you what you want or need, and if the death of a fictional character causes you this much distress please seek help. I mean this kindly but seriously.

Killing off Izzy was ableist/bad for disability rep.

I point once again to the rest of the characters, several of which are disabled in varied ways. There are literally multiple other amputee characters specifically. It's not good storytelling to wholly avoid killing off any character that is disabled/queer/poc/female or [insert marginalized group here], especially when a) it makes sense narratively, and b) there's plenty of representation of these groups in the media in question. The answer isn't making such characters invincible and immortal, it's increasing the number of these characters in shows so it's not devastating when some do die in the course of natural storytelling.

OFMD was my comfort show/safe space show, now it's ruined for me

I am not trying to be insensitive here when I say that's a problem that is yours and nobody else's. David Jenkins created this show with a three-season vision and a story in mind, and he is telling that story to the best of his ability the way he wants to. It's already been said that he and the crew did not anticipate the fandom becoming as large and passionate as it has. The plot of the show was never intended to be 'fan service,' and it's ironic that there were people complaining this season that there's been too many fanservice tropes, up until David and the rest of the writers room made a narrative decision they did not like, then the complaints changed to not coddling the fans enough.

We as viewers can derive joy from this show, it can be a comfort to us, it can be important to us. But it was not designed specifically for that purpose, therefore it cannot fail in that respect. We do not have the right to harass writers for not steering the ship in the direction we want - it's their work of art, and we can choose to either come along for the ride or not. It's rare to see creators actually given the chance to tell their story the way they intend (budget cuts aside), so let him do that. He should not cater to fans, or cave and change the story to appease us. Respect his right to create his art, and remember you have the right to create your own. That's what fanfiction is for - write fix-its to your heart's content, but keep these realms separate. David Jenkins and Co hold zero, and I mean zero, responsibility to you. He could not please everyone no matter what he did, it would be fruitless to try, and it would certainly compromise the quality of the story he set out to tell.

You are absolutely allowed to dislike choices made in any show. Curate your media experience. If this show no longer brings you joy, stop watching. But it was never David's purpose nor responsibility to juggle the mental health of millions of fans. Trying to put that on him will only make him less enthusiastic about interacting with fans or continuing to make this show. This isn't rocket science. You're responsible for yourself, not this guy you call 'Dad' that you've developed a parasocial-therapist relationship with.

Izzy should have become captain of the Revenge.

Really?? Firstly, we did actually get that already in s1. He was tyrannical and the crew mutinied. But even if you think 'well after his character arc he'd be better suited to it,' it goes against the point of this arc. He's found value in not having a distinct role or purpose on the ship, decoupling his worth from the job he's expected to perform. He's found his place amongst the crew, not commanding it. There's no narrative reason to put him in charge when he's expressed no further interest in slotting himself back into a role full of pressure and expectations.

Con O'Neill was only told halfway through filming, it's cruel to just kill off the character he loves so much.

Guys, he's an actor. More than that, an actor with a theater background. I think he's used to characters dying. You don't need to look out for him. Con and David spoke one on one about it at length so they were on the same page, and David even said that Con took it well. I'm sure Con had input, just as other members of the cast have influenced their characters' stories, costumes, backstories, etc. Do you really think David Jenkins hurt Con's feelings or something? The writers (remember, it's not just David, it's a whole team of hard-working people coming up with these ideas) gave Con such a chance to shine this season, really developing Izzy beyond what he was given in s1 and letting Con show off his full acting range. Why are you only focusing on the destination rather than the journey? Sure, Con's probably sad to see Izzy go, but please do not project your distress onto him or try and accuse David & Co of being 'cruel' to their cast. That's really ridiculous. It's constantly evident how close they all are.

More importantly, do you actually, seriously think that Con O'Neill would want fans to harass each other or the writers over his character? The man who preaches being kind above all? There is no better way to make an actor uncomfortable about a show and its fanbase than to start treating fictional characters like they're more important than real people. He would not want you to bully people over Izzy Hands, and it's mind-boggling that some of you have convinced yourself otherwise.

Lastly, I just want to talk about the fact that some people are holding OFMD to absurdly high expectations.

Our Flag Means Death has been a pioneer series for its diverse representation, earnest storytelling, and themes of hope, community, and love. It's fine to discuss aspects of the show with a critical eye, but so much of the discourse has truly felt like folks are trying to find fault in a show that is leagues ahead of the average tv series that we still enjoy. How many fan favorites are killed off all the time? How many plotlines are scrapped, or drawn out without closure, or contradicted the very next season? How many shows are indifferent or actively hostile towards their fanbase? How many have any queer characters, or actually do bury them? The bar's so low, and OFMD has risen above to give us so much. Some are holding the show to astronomical expectations, waiting for it to fall from the pedestal it's been placed on. If something you don't like happens in the show, it's not suddenly ruined or demoted to being ~just as bad as those other shows~. Give them some breathing room, have some perspective on how progressive the show is, and that perfection is impossible, especially meeting every single viewer's idea of it. This is basically a repeat of the recent Good Omens drama, with an absurd number of people harassing Neil Gaiman for breaking up Aziraphale and Crowley and leaving the second of three acts on a very predictable cliffhanger. Let stories be told, let them unfold as they may, and you are free to leave anytime. It's so wonderful that more queer love stories are becoming popular and even mainstream, but let's not shoot ourselves in the foot by tearing them down when they don't go exactly the way you want it, which often seems to mean no drama, no character deaths, and therefore no conflict or even plot!

Just, please be civil human beings, and while this seems to be a difficult thing for so many fandoms to do, just keep your fan opinions in the fan space. Never bring your grievances to the writers, never bully them and persecute them for telling a story that you opted into viewing. That's something that goes entirely against everything this show, and this cast and crew, have imparted onto us - the importance of kindness, support, community, and love. I'll say it again because it bears repeating: the fate of a fictional character is never more important than how you treat real people. Just be kind in real life, which includes the internet. Thanks.

Now please, let's work together to ensure we get a season 3. There's so much more story to be told, and if you want to see Izzy back, whether that's as flashbacks, as a ghost haunting the inn, or in the gravy basket, we'll need more episodes! #RenewAsACrew

[twohearts-hs]

Always & Forever One - Marshall Mathers x Reader Series

Words: 2.3k

Pairings: Marshall Mathers x Fem!Reader Series

Synopsis;: They loved each other with every fibre and being. They knew that they were meant to be together, but it seemed like every obstacle came in the way. She was twenty-one, he was forty and they knew that it would be hard. Therefore, they promised forever and always as they were meant to be together despite every turmoil that came their way.

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol & smoking. More warnings will come throughout the series.

|| Masterlist for Series ||

Hope you enjoy :)

May 2012

Y/N was utterly and devotedly late. Never in her life had she been so late for a job. However, she came straight from the diner and believed she had a fifteen-minute turnaround but with traffic and Miranda being late to cover the rest of the night, she was utterly and terribly late.

Throwing her jeans and tee into the hamper, Y/N ran around the studio apartment looking for a black outfit for the catering event. That was the uniform – all black and it did not help that she was two weeks behind in laundry.

“Fuck it,” she whispered as she grabbed the black dress pants and a turtleneck. It stunk lightly of body odour and sweat, but with deodorant and perfume, no one would know.

Y/N threw the clothes on, grabbed her sneakers and ran out of the door before jumping on public transport.

She needed this job. It was the summer and between her summer classes and the two jobs, she was a busy girl. However, she had to maintain her grades to keep her scholarship and additionally, she had bills to pay. 

Y/N moved to Detroit three years ago to complete her degree in art history at the local university. It was a move she never expected as she was from a small town in Canada, however, she was a star field hockey player and had stellar grades. Universities were lining up for her to come to their institution. It was a choice between the local university on Vancouver Island, Michigan and Los Angeles.

The idea of being in a hot climate, tourism and above all a city filled with celebrities sounded dreadful. The idea of staying on the island off the coast of Vancouver in Canada did not sound as bad as she thought. She grew up in a small town, Ladysmith, the same town as Pamela Anderson was from. With a single mother, she grew up with surfing and the ocean. However, she wanted something different.

It was hard to leave her mother. Ree was all she knew since she remembered. It was just her and the surf shop downtown. Y/N loved that shop. It opened when she was three and she spent so much of her time in that small shop. It was her first job, her first paycheque and the first time she fell in love with the idea of surfing.

She was a fantastic surfer.

However, when the University of Michigan offered a full-fledged scholarship as long as she maintained her grades and she played on the field hockey team, she did not know what to do. The idea of being in the Midwest was scary. The idea of being away from the water was terrifying. The idea of being in the United States of America was intriguing. However, above all being away from her mother seemed ridiculous.

But she ended up in Detroit at eighteen.

Now, it’s been three years. She unfortunately, had to leave the field hockey team due to injury but she was able to maintain her scholarship. As long as she kept the grades.

Y/N needed to work though in order to pay her away in the city. Two jobs in the summer, one in the school semesters. She had the diner job since she was eighteen. Ted’s Diner downtown was her favourite place to be. Ted was amazing and as the owner he deeply cared for his workers. A sweetheart at heart, a recovering addict who believed in second chances and was always so kind. The whole team at Ted’s was a blessing her world. Miranda the single mom – reminded her of her mom -  who gave her a slice of pie every time she worked past midnight on the house as a thank you. Then there was Gavin, the chef who always made sure if she was ever interested in a night of rendezvous, he was there.

They understood that she was a student. An art history student to be exact. They gave her time to get assignments done at work while still paying her. It was a second home and she loved it.

The catering job was just for the nights. It was for the extra cash. She would dress in black and go to events where she would hold trays of expensive prosecco or finger foods for the rich. It was fine. She did not mind it.

However, she was extremely late.

“I am so sorry!” she yelled as she ran through the conference centre to the back. Pushing through the crowd, she made it to the back where she saw a very displeased manager.

“I am so sorry,” she began but as soon as she got the next words out, he stopped her.

“Never again,” Sean said as he held up a finger. “You’re forty-five minutes late. You look like shit, and you smell like grease. I expect something a little higher than this but obviously you have hit an ultimate low.”

“Just let me work and I promise I will make it up to you.”

Sean raised a brow and rolled his eyes.

“Last warning.”

Y/N gave him a curt nod before turning back to the kitchen and seeing her coworkers coming and going with their trays.

“You’re late,” she heard behind her before a jab to her back.

A yelp escaped Y/N as she turned to the voice. Meira, her best friend in Detroit was in front of her with a smirk.

“The diner,” was all Y/N said with a roll of her eyes. She placed her apron around her before grabbing a tray. “What event is this for?”

“PR for a sports team,” Meira hummed as she loaded her tray up.

“So, we are catering a bunch of athletes?” Y/N groaned. “Joy, joy,” with sarcasm. Her hair was up in a ponytail and she ran her fingers under her eyes to get rid of the mascara flakes.

“Indeed, we are,” Meira exclaimed.

Y/N walked out with a tray to the crowd of athletes, managers, perhaps musicians and more. It was a room of the rich and famous. Y/N began to make her rounds, letting people grab the drinks off her tray as she walked in circles. A smile was plastered on her face.

However, she could not even imagine how tired she was at the moment. She worked at eight a.m. that morning, did a twelve-hour shift that went over and now she was working for another four hours.

Who was this woman? A superwoman perhaps.

Marshall was standing beside Paul as someone in front of him talked about something he did not care for. A red bull was in hand as he nodded but let his eyes wander the crowd. He dreaded these events and he desired to leave.

Dressed in jeans, a tee, and a hoodie with a chain, most would say he did not put much mind into this event as others wore suits and ties. However, he was just here for the appearance for a couple of hours before he would dip.

It’s been thirty minutes and all he could imagine was going home and watching some terrible movie on the TV.

“I am going to bathroom,” he leaned over and whispered to Paul as he turned away.

Making his way down the hallway to the bathroom, he turned the corner and smashed into a body.

“Fuck!” he snapped.

Y/N watched in front of her as the whole tray of glass champagne flutes smashed on the floor. Hands up, she took a step back as the mess unravelled in front of her. Instantly, her face fell. She was utterly fucked.

Her eyes searched from the ground to the man who was the perpetrator of this event and instantly she let out a loud breath.

"You should watch where you are going,” Marshall stated with a roll of his eyes.

“Me?” Y/N cocked. “You’re the one who ran into me.”

"Well, maybe you should not be so short on corners.”

“Thanks for the advice,” she whispered as she sighed. “Obviously, you can do my job way better than me.”

Y/N did not need this. Not now, not ever but particularly not right now when she was already in deep shit. Now this happened. She was destined to lose her job.

Marshall saw her look down at the mess then up to her. She was pretty despite looking like she had seen better days but there was something about her attitude. She matched him which shocked him.

He nodded before biting his lip to find out what to say next. “I can’t do your job. Thanks for the offer though,” he commented.

/N sent him a clenched smile as she nodded. “Ok, well, you’re welcome.” She was about to turn around to get someone to help her clean it, but Sean appeared from the kitchen. His brow was raised, and he had his arms crossed.

“First you’re late and now you’ve smashed hundreds of dollars’ worth of drinks,” he said with sarcasm.

She let out a sigh as she tried to compose herself. Rubbing her hands against her thighs, she slowly turned to look at Sean.

“I am guessing I am fired,” she whispered, and all Sean did was roll his eyes.

“Obviously,” he stated before walking off.

Y/N glanced at the mess in front of her and the gentleman. He was older, a hat on his head and dressed down but she did not care at this moment. Instead, she removed her apron and as she was folding it.

“Did I just get you fired?” he asked.

Finally, he had the audacity to talk.

Y/N glanced at him and sighed. “No, I haven’t been the best worker so it’s not your fault.”

She was Canadian after all, and she mimicked that type of hospitality. Kindness and sympathy were all she believed in. However, now as she the man in front of her tried to show her a form of sympathy due to his own actions. She brushed it off.

“I have been seeing you working quite hard tonight so-“

“You do not have to be nice. I fucked up and honestly, yeah, you helped but I believe everything happens for a reason and obviously this job was not in my path,” she stated.

Marshall nodded. “Sorry.”

“Don’t fret it,” Y/N stated before walking off.

Meira came out with a concerned face. “I heard smashing,” she began.

"I need a smoke.”

Y/N sat on the curb outside, kicking her legs out as the cars drove by. She was on her second cigarette as she let her hair down. Meira appeared with a bottle of something.

“If you’re going to get fired, I may as well too. I stole this,” she hummed as she settled next to her.

Y/N chuckled as Meira handed the bottle of expensive champagne to her due to the fact she did not know how to pop one. After popping the bottle, Y/N brought the poison to her lips. Beautiful, smooth but bubbly and sweet with a hint of tang. Perfect for everything tonight.

“I needed that job,” she whispered to her friend.

“No, you didn’t. You like to have a healthy saving, but the diner pays your bills.”

Y/N groaned. “I have never been fired.”

“Girl, you were only working there for over three weeks. No offence but Sean was out to get you since the beginning.”

Y/N let out a loud frustrated groan. “If only that idiot did not smash into me, I would still have that job. Then he had the audacity to be rude.”

“You were rude back…”

“Yeah, but he smashed into me!” Y/N exclaimed. “I needed the money,” she said in a low voice, “really needed the money.”

“For?”

“Masters. I am one year from graduating and I have no money saved up for my masters.”

Meira nodded as Y/N brought the cigarette to her lips.

“You know those will kill you,” a voice said behind her. Recognisable, deep and masculine but soft at the same time.

Y/N turned around and glanced at the mysterious man behind her. Him. The perpetrator. Rolling her eyes she brought the cigarette to her lips.

“I know, that’s the purpose,” she stated.

Marshall nodded, shoving his hands in his jeans before taking a step from the shadows. “Look, I just want to apologise and give you this,” he said coming closer to her. “I got you fired, and you need the money more than me.”

He placed his hand out and she spotted the cash roll in it. Y/N eyes widened. Hundred possibly thousands were in there, but she knew she could not take it. There is no way she was taking the money from a complete stranger.

The man nodded towards his hand.

“Thank you, but I cannot,” Y/N said.

“Hey, I am the idiot who smashed into you which cost you your job,” he tried to bargain with her.

“You heard?” she asked.

“Everything.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because I have been in your position before.”

“So, its pity.”

“No respect.”

She nodded. “I cannot just take your money.”

“Look either it pays for a part of your degree, or it sits in my bank account.”

Y/N sighed. “I am not someone who you could just pay for forgiveness.”

“I am not asking for forgiveness.”

“Then what do you want?” she asked with a confused look on her face.

“For you take-“

“Donate it.”

Y/N could not believe this man. He was just waving money in front of her like it was nothing. He was admitting that he was rich and powerful, yet he dressed if he was about to pick up some groceries. She could not accept this kind of money.

“A tip for your service,” he tried again.

“Just sit and have a drink. Have a conversation and perhaps you may get respect out of me.”

Marshall placed the cash into his pocket before stepping down on the curb. He sat next to Y/N as she bummed her cigarette out and brought the champagne to her lips.

“Meira stole this from the kitchen if you want some,” Y/N suggested.

“I don’t drink.”

“Admirable,” she commented as traffic continued to move in front of her.

“I think by running into Y/N you just saved her from four months of misery,” Meira said.

Marshall chuckled. “I try my best, but I am sorry for acting like a dick though. Respect goes out to you for the job you do.”

Y/N grinned and nodded. “Thanks.”

“Y/N is your name?” he asked. She nodded. “Marshall,” he introduced.

“Marshall,” she hummed, “it’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

“What are you studying?”

“Art history and Meira is in biology-psychology. What are you doing at this event?”

“Fulfilling my role.”

“Important or something?” she hummed.

“Something like that,” he hummed.

She nodded as she finished the champagne and placed her cigarettes back in her pocket. It was nearing midnight, and she had an eight a.m. shift the next day at the diner. She looked at Marshall beside her and she could admit he was cute. He obviously was important in retrospect of sports, but he seemed to keep to himself. She did not want to bug him, but as she got up, she checked her phone.

“Fuck,” she whispered.

“What?” Meira said.

“Fucking Sam,” Y/N said and that was all Meira needed to hear to nod. “I will deal with him tomorrow.”

Marshall got up as well and placed his hands into his pockets.

“I have to go,” Y/N said, “I am up at like six a.m. for work.” She looked at the Marshall and placed a hand in front of her. “Truce. No running into me again?” she joked.

He chuckled and placed a hand in front of himself too. “Deal.”

“Thanks for the whatever this was, Marshall. Enjoy the rest of the event,” she stated as she grabbed her bag and threw it over her shoulders.

“I am going to go home. I hate these things.”

“Fair. I would too.”

He nodded as she began to turn away. “Bye, Y/N.”

“Bye, Marshall,” she said as she wrapped a arm around Meira and they walked down the street.

All Marshall could think was, ‘who was this woman?’ as she was something.

____________

Author's Note:

Thanks so much for reading!

As said in my previous post, there will be 20 chapters as this book is completed. It's over 103k words therefore, it will be posted.

Send me your thoughts, opinions, love and more! I am excited to be releasing this.

Much love,

Ava <3

[heytherecentaurs]

Burrow's End is an absolute masterpiece.

In the span of ten episodes Aabria and Co. weave an exciting and emotional adventure story about a family of sentient stoats. It delivers huge laughs, interesting societal criticism, remarkably emotional and well-acted scenes and concludes with a series of epilogue scenes that feel appropriate for each character, some heartfelt and subdued and others bigger than life and all the funnier for it.

Siobhan and Izzy play the perfect pair of siblings. They fight and argue but they also love each other. Jaysohn (Siobhan) looks up to Lila (Izzy) and believes she's the smartest stoat in the world (and by the end she probably is) and Lila hypes up her little brother's athletic skills. They both fully embodied these kids and I could watch them do fun stuff for more episodes. Give me a version of Saved by the Bell with them. Stoat by the Bell.

Brennan and Rashawn, playing sisters, also knock it outta the park, showing a more mature sibling dynamic. Brennan portrays Tula as the quintessential overtired single mother of excitable kids, and Rashawn as younger sister Viola straddles a very interesting line of being intimidating to outsiders but very much more naive and looking to her older sister when she starts a family.

Jasper as Thorn, a guy everyone just lets be a cult leader because he really wanted to, is fantastic. His is a difficult role as the only non-blood relative. Jasper plays Thorn with such real humanity of a guy in over his head and letting his ambition wife call the shots, but also one who agrees with her goal, really loves her and has moments of real menace. He has some very funny scenes, his big speech is perfect, and I just enjoy him.

Erika is wonderful. They play the epitome of generational trauma as many have said but as much trauma as Ava has, she is also loving and willing to learn. The fact Erika took this adversarial role is incredible. The tense dramatic scene primarily between Ava, Tula and Viola is amazing. They act their asses off and make hard choices that I imagine are difficult even for such an experienced player.

Aabria's DMing always feels fun. She doesn't get bogged down in the rules. She knows them. She plays by them. But as a master, she knows how and when to break them too. Her seasons on Dimension 20 have all had a tenseness, a particular edge to them that can give me anxiety during dramatic scenes between two characters. It always feel like one of her NPCs may say something devastating and the tension between characters reaches really thrilling heights. This is present in other seasons, but I don't think anyone does it as well as she does. The first season of hers to have battle maps, Aabria really swung for the fences and gave us some of the wildest maps to date.

Shout out to Carlos Luna's voice acting. He did an incredible job. And shout out to the whole crew who have put together one of the best seasons of D20. They keep finding ways to build on what's come before and they should be commended for it.

Dimension 20 is most successful when the concept is very streamlined. They don't do huge 100 episode campaigns capable of handling huge winding complex narrative, but short focused D&D stories, which is why many of the Side Quests have been so fantastic. They embody this philosophy most clearly, but it's apparent in the most beloved Intrepid Heroes seasons as well—John Hughes/High Fantasy, Game of Thrones/Candyland, Retrofuturism, Film Noir but in a Brain... Burrow's End fits this perfectly. It's streamlined concept paired with great storytellers and great chemistry sets it up to be a smash hit before it begins. And goddamn does it deliver.

Thanks Stupendous Stoats!