#trying this new thing where i give myself positive reinforcement and hope for the best

[cheekys-slut]

Goals for tonight: get the structure of this wig done, so that I can justify spending an age gluing hair onto it tomorrow

[13uswntimagines]

Where Do I Fit? (Preath x Little!Reader)

Request: angsty little!reader with Tobin, where Tobin was rs caretaking fir way before Christen(like since college?) and they tell Christen but she isnt okay with it at first but accepts it by gettung r stuffies to apologise?

“It’s not like that Chris,” Tobin sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her elbows rested on her knees. The two of you had been trying to explain this for a better part of an hour, and Christen still didn’t understand. 

“Then tell me what it’s like Tobin, because from what you’ve said it sounds like your adult friend pretends to be a toddler, and you give her baths and feed her bottles. Do I need to continue? It’s some kinky shit-...” Christen said exasperated, frustratedly running fingers through her hair. How Tobin thought she would be ok with this? She was at a loss for words. 

Tobin shook her head, blinking up at her girlfriend “It’s not sexual Christen. It just-“  

“What, makes you feel good?” Christen spat, crossing her arms defensively across her chest. 

“Helps me deal with stress and anxiety, in a more positive way,” you mumbled, shifting anxiously on the couch next to Tobin, shivering at the glare Christen sent your way. You weren’t in love with Tobin, actually, you had a girlfriend of your own (who also happened to be little). Tobin was your safety blanket, and you just wished Christen could understand. 

****

Tobin had been your mama since college. An arrangement that had been made after she found you curled up under your dorm room bed, so stressed you didn’t know what day it was much less what stuff you had to get done. Instead of running away, she had pulled you into her arms and rocked you until you were done crying. 

After a little research and some explaining about why you regressed and how long it had been happening on your end, Tobin wholeheartedly embraced the role of Mama. And together you became more comfortable. She made you bottles and helped you keep track of school and soccer. As your best friend she decided it was her duty to protect you, and you were too fucking adorable when you were little to pass up. 

Then your Mama started dating Christen, and after a few months of them being serious, it was decided that you had to tell Chris. That you could propose that she join in your little arrangement. You got along well with the woman, and she was pretty nurturing to you anyway (especially at national team camps) making sure you ate and didn’t stay up at all hours of the night with your girlfriend and the youngins. 

****

Christen paused mid-pace, turning to look her girlfriend in the eye. “I don’t know how I feel about having a third person in our relationship Tobin,” She said calmly, crossing her arms. 

“Baby, I promise you it’s not like that. Y/n may be my baby girl, but I’m not romantically attracted to her. She’s my best friend, and this helps her,” Tobin pleaded, begging for the woman she loved to understand. She didn’t want to lose her and she didn’t want to lose her baby girl. You were a very sensitive little, absolutely petrified of her getting bored and abandoning you one day. She had made so many promises, and she couldn’t bear the thought that she might have to break them. 

“So what, she’ll call you whenever she’s little and you’ll just fucking drop everything to go ‘help’ her?” Christen’s eyebrow quirked up. 

You frowned. You had been hoping that this conversation would end in you having another mommy, so technically you would be calling them, and you were always mindful of overstaying your welcome. 

“I wouldn’t abuse that,” You huffed. 

“But you can’t control when you're little or whatever right? As long as you’re involved in this thing, she will always come first, and that’s not a healthy relationship,”  Christen asked viciously, turning her attention to you for the first time. You sunk into the couch, fighting the natural descent into little space that came with such looks. With looks only Moms could muster. 

You opened your mouth to respond, only for Tobin to jump in first. “Babe, we’ll figure it out. I was act-”

“Well then, I’ll be back when you figure your priorities out,” Christen scoffed, grabbing her keys and her purse and slamming the door behind her. 

Heavy silence stretched across Tobin’s apartment, both of you staring at the door. 

You hadn’t been expecting things to be rainbows and butterflies, but you didn’t think it was going to come down to an ultimatum. Little you or the love of Tobin’s life. It wasn’t a fair choice, but you knew exactly what needed to be done, no matter how much it hurt. 

“I was afraid that would happen,” You sighed, staring at the door, gulping to try and stay big. Trying to force yourself to hold back the painful emotions that were rattling in your chest. Someone had to be the mature one. The realistic one. 

“Y/n,” Tobin said softly, her voice ruff with unushered tears.

You shook your head, patting her knee, but never looking in her direction. If you did you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself together anymore. You wouldn’t be able to do what needed to be done. You had promised yourself that you would never get in the way of her love life, and you were about to follow through on that. “It’s fine Tobin. I understand,”

“I love her,” Tobin said, sniffling, and you felt a little piece of your heart crack. Didn't Tobin love little you too? Just not enough. You swallowed hard, again pushing those feelings down. This wasn’t about you, and Tobin deserved to be happy. 

“I know. Go after her, I know how to let myself out. I’ll go to Lindsey’s and text the group chat to see if anyone wants another little,” You shrugged. Lindsey could handle you and your girlfriend for the night, and the group chat was sure to be able to give you good advice, at least until you figured this whole thing out. They hadn’t let you down yet. 

Tobin made a strangled sound at the mention of the group chat. At the idea that one of her friends could ever replace her as your mama. She knew that it was the logical next step (you and little Em were a handful on your own, together you were little terrors), but she couldn’t help the little twinge in her heart. 

“I’m sorry,” She said, bringing her hand over yours and squeezing tightly. She hoped it could convey how badly she felt about this whole situation. She never thought Christen would react so badly. 

You bit your lip, avoiding looking at your mama. “Don’t be. You were the best Mama ever. Now go,” You mumbled, kissing the back of her hand and shooing her towards the door. She didn’t even spare a glance in your direction as she left. 

You stood from the couch, walking to the guest room that always served as your nursery. You collected your little things bag, Roary (you could never leave him behind), and your Batman blanket before heading towards the door. You paused in the doorway, turning to glance over the room one more time, allowing yourself to reminisce for just a second. How you wished this night had gone differently. You sighed, shaking your head and closing the door behind you. You would find a new caregiver, but Tobin would always be your mama. 

****

You were miserable. Completely, totally and utterly miserable. Hovering somewhere between adult you and little you, curled up in the corner of Lindsey’s couch, staring listlessly into space. Even your girlfriend cuddled into your side, running race cars gently over your legs couldn't cheer you up, and Lindsey was starting to get worried. 

“I don’t know what else to do, short of calling Tobin,” Lindsey said quietly, watching you from where her and Kelley were hovering by the door. It was one thing handling her little handful, and a complete other trying to take in both of you at the same time. She didn’t even know where to begin with you, hence why she called in reinforcements. 

You had known Kelley and Alex for almost as long as you had known Tobin. You trusted them, and if anyone could get you out of your funk, your aunt Kelley could. 

“You tried pudding?” Kelley asked, biting her lip. You were curled into the couch, Emily cuddled into your side, sending glances every now and then towards the stuffed triceratops you had left on the other couch. Pudding was little you’s favorite cheat food, and if that didn’t work she wasn’t sure what to do next. By now the entire team was aware of what was going on between you and Tobin, and none of them were surprised that little you wasn’t taking it so well. 

“And ice cream, and hot pretzels and Mac and cheese. I even tried warm milk,” Lindsey nodded. She had seen you upset before, but never this bad. She was literally at her wits end, and Emily wasn’t even being her normally bratty self. 

“Damn,” Kelley sighed, rubbing the back of her neck anxiously. How Tobin was going to fix this mess she didn’t know and how she was going to aid your obviously miserable self she wasn’t sure either. 

“Yeah, and she forbade me from calling Tobs,” Lindsey mumbled, patting Kelley’s shoulder. Kelley was known to have a magic touch with littles, but Lindsey was skeptical anyone besides your mama could pull you from this funk. 

“From the text she sent the group chat I’m not surprised. I’ll see what I can do,” Kelley nodded, shooing Lindsey towards the kitchen to heat up some Mac and cheese. She would get you to eat something even if it killed her. 

She slowly made her way over to you, gently patting Emily’s shin when she was close enough. “Hey Emmy, your mama wants to see you in the kitchen please,” 

The blond little blinked up at her, big Emily suddenly very present in her eyes. She didn’t like how much pain you were in, but you both trusted Kelley. The two stared at each other for a moment, before Emily nodded once, seemingly satisfied that Kelley would help. 

Emily leaned up and kissed your cheek before toddling off towards the kitchen. Maybe mama would get her a cookie. 

Kelley took her spot, watching you carefully, as though you were a puzzle she was trying to solve. “How you holding up bug?”

You shrugged in response, tucking your legs tighter underneath you and crossing your arms. 

“Not too good then huh?” Kelley filled in, scooting a little bit closer to you, taking a breath of relief when you didn’t curl into an impossibly tighter ball. 

You nodded once. While big you understood why Tobin couldn’t be your mama, little you was devastated that she had chosen someone over you. That she didn’t love you anymore (big you knew this was just as hard for her). 

Kelley’s eyebrows furrowed. You usually hovered around 2 and a half or three when you were little, but this version of you was far smaller. Small enough for you to go nonverbal. The only person to see you this small was Tobin, and as far as Kelley knew the last time this had happened you were still in college. 

“Well, I don’t know about you, but Roary was telling me that his tummy was hurting. Does your tummy hurt?” She asked you softly, holding up your favorite stuffed triceratops and wiggling him in front of your face. 

You shrugged again. Yeah your tummy was a little grumbly, but you were sad and all you wanted was for mama to scoop you up, but she couldn’t. 

“I know you’re upset bug, but not eating isn’t going to make you or Roary feel better, ok? Aunt Lindsey made Mac and cheese and it’ll warm you up ok?” she tried again, nudging your cheek with Roary’s nose. You bit your lip in thought. You did love Mac and cheese, and you didn’t want Roary to turn into a grumpasaurus. 

“Otay,” you mumbled, reaching for the defender (who despite her short stature was still an inch taller than you). She smiled tightly at you, handing you your stuffed Dino and picking you up to head towards the kitchen. At least they were getting you to eat. 

*****

Christen sighed from her place on the couch next to Tobin, glaring at the cellphone that had gotten far more attention than she had tonight. All she wanted was a date night with her girlfriend, and Tobin had spent the whole thing glued to her phone, nervously biting her lip. 

“Alright, who have you been texting all night?” Christen asked, pulling away from Tobin and wrapping the blanket tighter around her. 

The midfielder turned forward blinked and sat back to look carefully at her girlfriend. “Lindsey,” Tobin said, biting her lip. 

Christen’s eyebrows furrowed. “What’s up with Linds?” 

Tobin sighed. “Y/n went to stay with her until preseason starts. Emily’s there too and she wanted to hang out with her girlfriend,” 

“So what, why has Lindsey been texting you?” Christen asked. She was usually good at following Tobin’s train of thought, but she was lost. 

Tobin sighed again, shaking her head. “Y/n is having a really hard time, and I know you think it’s just some weird kink or something, but little Y/n doesn’t understand what’s happening. She doesn’t know what she did wrong and Lindsey needs some advice on how to handle her,” 

Christen’s back straightened immediately at the mention of your name. She thought she had made her opinion clear. “How can you say that like Y/n is two people. Like she isn’t manipulating you into doing what she wants?” Christen said, throwing her hands up in exasperation. 

Tobin took a deep breath trying to figure out how to explain it. How to make her girlfriend understand that it was so much more than you pretending to be a kid for a little while. “Y/n isn’t two people, and she isn’t manipulating me. That’s evident considering she forbade Lindsey from calling me,” Tobin started calmly, picking at a stray thread on her pants. She opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to find the right words to explain it. “It’s not a sexual thing for her. It’s about trust. When y/n is little she doesn’t have to worry about everyday things, she can trust that I’ll take care of her. That no matter what happens, someone will be there to protect her. That no one will abandon her…” her voice cracked. 

That’s exactly what she had done, isn’t it? Abandoned her best friend?. 

Christen pulled her into a hug, letting her sob into her shoulder. It was hard to see Tobin this upset, even if she didn’t fully understand why. 

“My relationship with her isn’t like the one I have with you. She loves Emily,” The words were muffled by Christen’s shoulder, but the forward heard them loud and clear. 

Her eyebrows furrowed. She had done some research after Tobin had initially told her, but this was turning out to be way more complicated than the online forum suggested. If Emily was involved too, and you were dating her, then why did you need Tobin? 

“Why can’t Emily be her mama?” She asked softly, honestly trying to understand this mess. 

Tobin leaned back, wiping her eyes. 

“Cause Emily’s little too and that would be dangerous. Lindsey takes care of Em like I take care of Y/n,” 

Christen nodded as she took in the information. That made sense. If you couldn’t necessarily control being little, then it was possible you would both slip at the same time (or one could trigger the other). That did seem like a pretty bad idea for a long term solution. 

But if Lindsey was there, then what was the problem? 

“I just don’t understand how I fit into this whole thing,” Christen said after a few minutes, finally looking Tobin in the eyes, searching for the answer. 

“You don’t have to deal with her when she’s little if you don’t want to. I just didn’t want to hide it from you,” Tobin shrugged, running a hand through her hair (the weight on her chest lifting just a bit now that Christen actually seemed to be willing to talk about this). 

“If she’s here, I’m not just going to ignore her,” Christen scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Tobin’s lips ticked up just a bit. She wasn’t sure if Christen realized she had basically said you were going to be around, but Tobin was pleased with the new development. Maybe Christen just needed to logic it out a little bit more to become more open to the idea, but she wasn’t going to force her into something she wasn’t comfortable with. 

“It’s still the Y/n you know, just a little bit more carefree. A little more silly and cuddly. You don’t have to be around her, but if you wanted to… she was gonna ask if you wanted to see what being a caretaker with me was like,” She said, leaning in and nudging under Christen’s chin with her nose. 

Christen frowned, pouting a little, the real reason she had been so against the idea initially finally rolling from her lips. “She wasn’t trying to take you away from me-“ 

Tobin was shaking her head before Christen even finished her sentence. “No, she was trying to include you,”

You had been open to the idea of being little around Christen (hesitant, but open especially if it meant including the woman your mama was head over heels for. 

The silence stretched between them for a few long seconds, broken only by Christen’s sigh. 

“I fucked up,” She mumbled, pinching the space between her eyes, completely missing Tobin’s blinding smile. 

“We fucked up, now let’s go fix it,” Tobin said, kissing her girlfriend’s cheeks and standing, extending her hand for the woman to take. They would make this right together. 

*****

Kelley would say that you were tolerating dinner. You were reluctantly opening your mouth for the airplanes of Mac and Cheese she was sending your way, glancing longingly at Roary (who was eating his carrots in his very own seat across from you). 

Lindsey had gotten up a few minutes ago to answer the door but had yet to return. That was why you were taking turns having Kelley feed you bites of dinner with Emmy. 

Kelley lifted the next bite up to your lips, but you pulled your head away. “No tank you,” 

Kelley sighed, leaning forward to make eye contact with you. “Baby, you’ve only had two bites. You need to eat a little more for me please,” 

You rapidly shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes. You didn’t want to eat the stupid Mac and cheese. You wanted your mama to love you again, but she was off loving Christen. 

“It otay, I eat Mac for you,” Emily said, patting your arm and placing a very sloppy kiss on your cheek. She didn’t like it when you were upset, and if she got more Mac and cheese out of it, then that was fine with her too. 

Kelley glared at the younger defender. You didn’t need any more encouragement to not eat, especially when you were this fussy. “I don’t think it works like that Em”

She looked back into your direction(ignoring your girlfriend’s pout), making her voice soft and sympathetic “Come on Y/n, 5 more bites please,” 

You whined loudly, shaking your head rapidly and kicking your feet a little in displeasure. The tears were now falling heavily down your very red face. “No want it!!”

“Alright bug,” Kelley murmured, pulling you into her lap, and letting you cry it out. You buried your face in her shoulder, heartbreaking sobs wracking through you. Kelley rubbed circles into your back, and carded her fingers through your hair, trying to soothe you. When that didn’t work, she carefully transferred you into a very familiar lap.

*****

You clung to Tobin as though your life depended on it, fisting her sweatshirt like you thought she would disappear at any second. You probably thought she would, Christen noted. 

It was truly a pitiful sight so see, and each little sob from your lips was like a knife in Christen’s chest. She hadn’t known what to expect when Lindsey said you were taking it hard, but it most certainly wasn’t this. It made her apology gift seem incredibly inadequate. 

“No babydoll, I’m never leaving you again. I promise,” Tobin said into your hair, rocking you to try and ease the wave of tears streaming down your cheeks. 

“But you wove Christen,” You said, though your voice was muffled by Tobin’s shoulder and your tears, Christen heard the words loud and clear. She shared a look with Tobin over your head, and she knew that she was the only one who could fix this mess. 

She knelt down next to you, carefully rubbing your back, encouraging you to look at her. You obliged, rubbing your bloodshot eyes as you pulled away from Tobin. 

“Tobin can love both of us darling, and I see that now. I’m sorry that I couldn’t see that before, but if you’re willing, I’d like to try helping your mama take care of you when you’re little,” She said softly. 

“No make me go bye bye?” You asked, sniffling. 

“No little one,” Christen reassured, bringing her thumb up to while away a stray tear. “No I brought a friend, but they don’t have a name yet. Do you think you can help me out?” She said, holding up the stuffed dragon they had picked up for you as an apology. 

You gently grabbed the purple stuffie, holding him very close to your nose, and examining him carefully. “Spike wants ta know if we go home?” You said after a few seconds, poking your tongue out the side of your mouth. Christen and Tobin laughed lightly at your expression. 

“Yeah, let’s go home,” 

[avengershumanresources]

blood 1 - Strange/Stark!Reader

Relationship: Dr. Strange/Princess!Stark!Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Adult Themes, eventual smut (like, wayyy down the line), adult language, implied sexual violence, general violence

Synopsis: Reader is the daughter of the legendary King Anthony Stark, Uniter of Lands, The Iron Defender, and leader of the realm. When the king disappears during battle, hope is lost and he is presumed dead.

When the late king’s uncle, Obadiah, takes the throne until your brother Peter is of age, he quickly arranges a marriage for you with a wicked king in a neighboring kingdom.

With the realms politics in question, and rumors of an upcoming siege to overthrow Peter’s rule before it starts, you quickly learn who is loyal to the crown and who is not.

Masterlist 

Chapter Playlist

1 - an empty grave

Cast:

The Royal House Stark:

King Obadiah Stark (Obadiah Stane)

King Anthony Stark (presumed dead)

Queen Virginia Stark (Pepper)

The Late Queen Alexandra Stark (your mother)

Princess Stark!Reader- you

Prince Peter Stark (Peter Parker)

Princess Morgan Stark

Knights:

Sir Samuel Wilson

Sir Steven Rogers

Sir Clinton Barton

Spellcasters/Master Sorcerers/Sorceresses:

Stephen Strange

Wanda Maximoff

Master Wong

Loyal to House Stark:

Natalia Romanoff (Natasha)- Assassin

James Barnes- her partner

Prince Thor- of Asgard, United with Stark’s kingdom

Prince Loki- of Asgard

Lady Brunhilde- of Asgard

Lady Sif- of Asgard

King T’Challa- of Wakanda

Princess Shuri- of Wakanda

(---) 

In a final twist of irony, the day of the funeral was bright and warm. 

You’d stood quietly while the priest recited his words, while candles were lit, while the Queen trembled silently next to you. You held Morgan’s hand, you listened while the choir sang, the ominous sound reverberating through your chest. 

The mourners in black whispered while the royal family walked up to an empty coffin. You touched the polished wood, fist tightening at your side. Pepper bowed her head, reciting a quiet prayer. 

How stupid. All of this was stupid. Praying to an empty box, crying over nothing. 

You kept your eyes down, lest you betray your own thoughts. Now wasn’t the time for rebellion. Not when your queen step-mother was relying so heavily on tradition and ritual to get through the day. It’d be borderline cruel to start antagonizing her in this way. 

No, you’d wait. 

Peter, your half-brother in blood but full brother in heart, touched your elbow, pulling you from your thoughts, and guiding you away from the coffin. He kept his eyes forward, expression stoic while he lead the family back to their positions in the massive cathedral. 

“They’ll pay for this,” he murmured low into your ear, as if reading your mind. The words were laced with a malice you’d never heard from the normally cheerful prince. 

You didn’t reply, instead you grabbed your younger brother’s hand and gave it a tight squeeze. A silent agreement. 

The attack had been a betrayal of one of the kingdom’s oldest allies, a neighboring kingdom ruled by someone your father had once trusted with his life. 

Apparently nothing was sacred anymore. 

The funeral ended somberly, mourners murmuring amongst each other, ladies fawning over Pepper, though the queen looked none too pleased with the attention. 

You searched the crowd for a pair of familiar of blue eyes, finding their owner tucked away from the crowd in a secluded corner. He was speaking quietly to the sorceress, Wanda, his eyes flicking up to meet your gaze. With a small nod, he signaled you over.

Weaving through the mass of people, you slipped into the conversation with Wanda regarding you, frowning in sympathy.

“I’m so sorry, your highness,” she whispered, bowing her head. “Your father was a good man, and an honest king. The realm is less for this loss.”

“Thank you,” your tone was colder than you’d intended, a reflection of the bitterness taking form within. Clearing your throat, you tried again, softer and more agreeable this time. “He truly was the best of us.”

Stephen sent Wanda a quick glance and the sorceress excused herself, parting the hall in a hurry.

“You’re angry,” he noted quietly. 

“Am I?” you hummed, quirking a brow up at your friend. “I thought I was supposed to be sad?”

“You’re allowed to be angry,” he replied, folding his hands behind his back. “It just means you understand the injustice of it all.”

“Peter wants revenge,” you stated, mimicking his motion and staring out at the sea of royals and court members. 

“Understandable,” he murmured. “I imagine a number of officials feel similarly.”

“He isn’t old enough to take the throne,” you supplied. “We can’t go to war without a seated leader.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time an heir succeeded in an unorthodox manner,” he noted before turning his head to look at you. “How are you, truly?”

You opened your mouth to reply, words catching in your throat. You felt hollow. You felt like you wanted to scream until you woke up from whatever nightmare you were caught in. Your heart felt like it had been ripped from your chest and stomped on. 

“I’m not certain,” you finally confessed, hands straining against each other behind your back. “Part of me wants to ride through the night and kill that traitor. The other wants to curl on the ground and fill the empty grave myself.”

He nodded in understanding.

“Grief is a powerful thing,” he replied softly, scanning the room before turning and giving you his full attention . “Would you like hide in the observatory a while?”

You looked up to him in surprise. The room was still full of mourners, citizens, and members of the court. Your duty would be to talk to everyone as they passed, pulling the burden off of Pepper.

“Can we?” you asked, voice cracking at the thought of having to converse any further.

Stephen gave you a mischievous smirk, nudging you toward a side door of the church. You followed his lead, slipping out of sight and tucking yourselves away from the crowds inside a small alcove. 

“They’ll want to focus on Peter and the queen anyway,” he noted casually, drawing up a portal with his fingers. “No point in dwelling. I’ll tell anyone who asks that you fainted from the stress and required immediate medical attention.”

“I’m sure they’ll all believe it,” you retorted with a matching grin, taking his hand and letting him help you through the portal with all of your heavy mourning apparel. 

The observatory had been a new addition to the palace after Stephen had arrived as its master sorcerer. Before, it’d been an abandoned archer’s tower, last used by the late king’s father, Howard, as a means of defense against the previously antagonistic kingdoms. 

After King Anthony had taken the throne and negotiated trade and peace treaties with the nearby kings, the reinforcements had largely been forgotten. 

Stephen had suggested it as an ideal place to study the cosmos above, and after some urging on your part, your father agreed to let the two of you repair the small space. When the foundation had been fixed to his specifications, Stephen added another enchantment to increase the size internally.

From there, the two of you worked to fill the space with objects of learning and interest. 

The walls had been lined with stacks of books, maps of the universe, and healing runes. Tables had been set with with all sorts of alchemical experiments, glowing amulets, and charmed quills. A small greenhouse had been established on one of the many turret balconies, where you helped tend to some medicinal herbs and enchanted florals. 

It was a place of peace and knowledge in a world of chaos and ignorance and in it, Stephen had taken the time to teach you the secrets of the universe. It was one of the few places you knew you truly could belong without judgement. 

“I’m not convinced this isn’t sabotage,” he stated once you were alone, the glowing orange portal snapping shut behind him. 

“What makes you say that?” you asked, lifting a book, flipping through a few pages in an attempt to distract yourself from his blunt words. You agreed there was some kind of malice involved in the attack, but sabotage suggested someone within the kingdom had betrayed your father. For such as honest and good your father was, your heart couldn’t handle such a reality.

“Whispers in the village,” he answered tersely. “Wanda was giving me her report when you approached. She is traveling to the next village over as we speak.”

“Rumlow betrayed his alliance,” you replied bitterly, refusing to look up from your book, though you couldn’t tell what the thing was about. Plants? Chaos magic? “What more is there to discover?”

“Why did he do it?” he asked. “What motivation does he have to sever one of the strongest military alliances in history?” 

“Greed? We’ve had a surprise in economic activity since the scholar agreement with Wakanda,” you guessed with a shrug. “This isn’t a smart man we’re dealing with. I’m met him once before. He’s ambitious and motivated, but not particularly clever.”

“Peter is almost of age, your father has prepared him for his new role thoroughly,” he continued, pacing the space. “It doesn’t make sense. Everyone is well aware he will be of age to take the throne in six months time, and now this just ensures his placement.”

“Not everything does,” you reminded him. “You taught me that. Or don’t you remember?”

You paused after a moment, peeking up from the book after letting his words settle.

“Maybe he plans to use Peter’s inexperience against him?” you suggested quietly. It wasn’t a pleasant thought, but even with the training and learning, Peter was a different person than your father, perhaps not in morals but certainly in other areas like strategy and planning. 

“I intend to get to the bottom of this,” he stated, his hand tightening at his side. You’d never seen Stephen so inflamed before. “At the very least, I can try to retrieve his body. Negotiate a dignified exchange.”

The words pierced your heart far more painfully than you’d anticipated, your hand gave a jerk and you dropped the book you’d been fidgeting with while he spoke. 

The mental image of your fathers head on a pike outside of Rumlow’s keep was enough to make you nauseous. 

“I’m sorry,” Stephen’s tone shifted at your reaction. “I’m getting ahead of myself.”

“Don’t apologize,” you assured him, clearing your throat and composing yourself. “You’re just doing your job. It’s why he trusted you to the position. You’re asking the questions that need to be asked.”

He watched you pluck the book off the ground and toss it on a nearby table with a low sigh. This was a precarious position he found himself in. 

On the one hand, he’d been appointed as the Master Sorcerer of this castle and this realm. He had an obligation to serve that role and ensure the safety of the kingdom’s inhabitants. Not to mention, his obligation as a peacekeeper in his position as Sorcerer Supreme at Kamar-Taj.

On the other, you were his dearest friend and companion, and the obvious hurt you were suffering made his other duties nearly impossible to focus on. It was no wonder Kamar-Taj frowned on intimate attachments, they did provide a distraction from the ambivalent roles sorcerers and sorceresses were bound to play. 

He wanted to serve as an unbiased judge in this troubling time, but his heart wanted him to seek justice and bring peace to your troubled mind. 

His eyes drifted to the telescope at the edge of the room and an idea hit him.

Perhaps a distraction was best for the time being? A small respite to pull away from the doom and gloom of the immediate future.

“Do you remember that star cluster I showed you last week?” he asked, hooking and arm over your shoulder and guiding you toward the window. “There’s a fascinating change that’s been occurring.”

It was still relatively bright out, though with the sun was just starting to dip over the horizon, there was enough darkness to point out the phenomena he’d discovered the night before. 

“Let me adjust-,” he tinkered with the measurements before signaling for you to lean in. “Do you see it?” 

“They’re changing color,” you noted with a small gasp of excitement. “That’s a promising omen, isn’t it?” 

Your expression had brightened considerably when you looked up at him. 

“It is,” he nodded. “The specific colors suggest a period of tranquility and prosperity after a short struggle.”

“Then maybe it isn’t all terrible,” you tried voicing optimistically. It sounded strange, like you still weren’t entirely convinced, but the evidence was clear before you. 

Stephen knew the stars never lied and had taught you as much over the time you’d spent together. 

You sighed sadly, giving the stars another peek and shaking your head when you pulled away. 

“I miss him,” you murmured, looking up at Stephen miserably. 

The sorcerer frowned sympathetically, before he moved toward you and pulled you into a tight embrace.

You pressed your cheek against his chest and allowed his arms to wrap around you. 

“I know,” he replied softly, resting his chin on your head. “Just know he loved you very much, and wouldn’t want to see you so hurt on his behalf."

That seemed to break something in you, and you buried your forehead into his chest, shaking with suppressed sobs and held back tears until finally you choked out a wave of emotions all at once.

He spent an hour sitting with you while you cried into his tunic, yelling about how angry you were to how miserable all of this made you feel. He listened, offering a handkerchief and when you started to calm down, summoned a fresh pot of herbal tea.

“We will find answers,” he stated, blowing gently over the steaming cup in his hand. 

“You sound so sure,” you noted with a bitter chuckle, eyes swollen and red from your tears.

“I’ve tampered with seeing the future from time to time,” he replied cheekily. “Perhaps I’ve had a vision?”

“And what did that vision show you?” you pressed, playing along with a ghost of a smile behind your own cup. 

“We win,” Stephen replied firmly, his expression falling serious.

“Doesn’t feel like it,” you confessed quietly. 

“Victory seldom does,” he watched you take a sip of your tea. You closed your eyes and relaxed your shoulders with the calming scent.

You opened your mouth to ask him a question when a knock at the observatory door broke the small spell of peace that’d fallen over the space.

“I’ve got it,” he gestured for you to stay seated, moving toward the door and slowly peeling it open. 

It wasn’t that he was overtly concerned for your safety, but given recent events, Stephen didn’t want to be lax in covering all possibilities. The world had gone mad and he wouldn’t put an assassin with a dagger outside the realm of potential visitors.

“Is the princess here?” Loki, Prince of Asgard, asked with a tone laced with annoyance upon Stephen’s appearance. 

“Loki?” you must have heard his voice and stood, setting your cup aside. “Stephen, let him in. It’s okay.”

With a glare at the prince, Stephen stepped aside and allowed the emerald clad royal through. 

He didn’t like outsiders in the observatory. Especially when you were around. 

It made him especially uneasy inviting another magic user inside, where they could potentially measure its wards and security for later aggression. 

“Peter mentioned you might be here,” Loki glanced around the room, arms folded behind his back. “I apologize if I’m intruding.”

That last part was directed toward Stephen with the smallest smirk. 

“No, it’s okay, we were just having tea,” you replied quickly, gesturing to the steaming pot on the table. “Could I make you a cup-?”

“No-,” he cut her off and cleared his throat apologetically. “I’ve come to say farewell. My father is ordering the borders to Asgard closed until Rumlow’s nation offers an explanation to this… tragedy.”

“I see,” your expression fell at the news. 

Certainly Asgard closing its borders was a worrisome sign. They were the kingdom’s greatest allies and largest trading partners. The effects of such a move would be felt for quite some time, both in security and in the local economy. 

“I’ll write,” he promised with a curt bow. “Don’t fall behind in your studies. I’ll be testing you the next time we meet.”

You smiled before he took your hand for a brief kiss on the knuckles. Rolling your eyes, you pulled away and threw your arms around his shoulder in a hug. 

“What a sad parting,” you laughed at his bewildered reaction. “And you’re going to kiss my knuckles like we haven’t known one another for years? On the day of my father’s funeral? Unacceptable.”

He barked out a small laugh, reciprocating the embrace with an arm before pulling away. 

“Stay safe,” he urged her before looking up at Stephen with a steely gaze. “Do well to keep her protected, Sorcerer.” 

“Always,” Stephen answered tersely, a little offended at the prince’s casual disregard for his abilities. He’d always kept you safe, and had absolutely no intention of letting that guard slip now. 

“Travel safely,” you called after him and he gave a final wave before pausing in the doorway when Stephen moved to close the door.

“Keep her close,” Loki warned quietly, the smirk disappearing completely. “There are whispers in the village of treachery and assassination. Do not let anyone have the opportunity to take advantage of the situation.”

“My associates are building wards around the castle and her quarters as we speak,” Stephen replied in agreement, a quick glance in your direction to ensure you weren’t listening. 

“The tea was a nice touch,” Loki noted with a hum. Stephen nodded curtly. 

The tea had a protection enchantment included in the mixture of herbs. Something small, but effective if you found yourself in danger without him, Wong, or Wanda nearby.

“Be well,” Stephen closed the door once Loki was out of sight, turning and finding you digging through his trunk of cloaks at the back of the room. “What are you doing?”

“I want to see Natalia and James,” you answered, pulling out a large blue cloak and holding it to your shoulders. 

“Absolutely not,” he crossed his arms. “Your father was just killed, possibly murdered. You’re not going to the village unprotected.”

“That’s why you’re coming,” you threw a crimson cloak in his direction, fastening the blue one over your shoulders. 

“Did you miss the part where I said murdered?” he asked in disbelief. 

“Then it’s a good think I’m friends with assassins,” you chimed back, pulling the hood of the cloak over your head. “They might be able to tell us something.”

“I’m sure Wanda and Wong have already talked to them,” he shot back, folding the cloak over is arm. “You should stay at the castle, at least for tonight.”

“You already know I’m going to go regardless,” you replied. 

“Because you’re a headstrong idiot,” he sighed, reluctantly pulling the cloak over is shoulders. “Who clearly has a death wish. What if your family comes looking for you?”

“They won’t,” you answered with a confident grin. “Mother is going to be with Morgan and Peter is going to lock himself away in the armory or training fields until the knights give up and make him retire to his chambers.”

“You’re so confident in your knowledge of the castle,” Stephen snorted, tying the cloak around him. 

“It’s what happens when you’re the eldest daughter of a king,” you replied, patting him on the shoulder. “You see everyone, but no one sees you.” 

“Poetic.”

“Also, you owe me an ale for enchanting my tea,” you quirked a brow toward him when he stammered back a response. “Didn’t think I would notice?”

“I’m losing my touch,” he sighed, waving a hand and summoning a bag of coin.

“No, you’re just turning into a fussy mother hen,” you grinned, the smile looking far more relieving than the grief he know you wore on the inside. “It’s endearing.”

Wha danger was a short outing for the evening? It was arguably safer in a crowd than alone in her chambers, especially while Wong was still working on the wards.

Besides, the assassins you’d found friendship in would do well to keep threats away as well.

And while Stephen pondered this thought, you were already part-way out of the room and headed toward one of the hidden passages in the hall. 

(---)

2 - a night at the pub

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[quinintheclouds]

YES YES YES YES YES

Spoilers for RWBY Volume 8 Chapter 6

THAT WAS SO MUCH MORE THAN I HAD EVEN LET MYSELF HOPE FOR

It really looks like this is the Volume the writers realized how many answers we’ve needed for years and years, and is answering them now. I wish it’d come sooner, of course, but since they can’t go back and fix the pacing or writing, I’m really impressed and optimistic about how Volume 8 is going!

BUT MORE SPECIFICALLY

I would like to GUSH about how they handled the Oscar and Ozpin scenes. We have needed, nay, BEGGED for this sort of development, and it’s finally here. There’s too much I want to rave about so bullet point time! 

[Note: I love the farmboy so this wound up longer than expected -- have a read more for your scrolling convenience -- TL;DR at the end]

We got confirmation that Ozpin has been pleading with Oscar to let him take over so he can burden the pain and torture instead. Oscar is the one refusing, choosing to take it himself because he knows Salem and Hazel will be much harsher on Oz. I thought that was the case, but I’m so glad they addressed it because otherwise we’d be wondering why Oz hasn’t offered. It does make me wonder, is Oz still able to take control without asking? Oscar was able to fight it in vol 6, and he’s come a long way.

Hazel is holding back -- at least, Oscar says he can tell that he is. This would keep in line with the battle at Haven, when Hazel was suspiciously playing defense and stalling by letting Ozpin monologue, then letting Oscar give a little protagonist speech... I mean, it sure doesn’t LOOK like he’s holding back. Look at this kid:

moving on before I cry,

Ozpin suggests he take over and try to escape.

Oscar says no, he has a better idea. “This is our chance.”

Oz: “Hm. Maybe you’ve taken one too many hits.” I like this for two reasons: one, because it gives us a taste of the ol’ lighthearted Ozpin humor we’ve missed since he’s been gone, and two, because it shows that he and Oscar think differently. They have different thought processes, ideas, etc. Oz didn’t immediately know what Oscar was planning.

Oscar explains that Salem can’t take on everyone at once, and thus has been sending people to infiltrate all of remnant first, to attack from within. 

I LOVE that they had Oscar come up with this, because it is so in line with his character development in Volume 7. Not to mention how in volume 6 he was the one to figure out how to defeat Cordovin’s mecha. It’s cool to see him as a strategist, because while he’s a sweet kid from the middle of nowhere, he’s proven to be really smart and quick.

Plus, this gives him agency. People wanted Ozpin to return and save Oscar, but this is so, so much better. Oscar’s idea, Oscar’s choice, and Oz gets right on board. They’re agreeing to work together, despite their unresolved conflict. “Ozma learned the importance of living with the souls with which he’d been paired.”

AND THEN, A MOMENT I CANNOT THANK RT ENOUGH FOR:

The captions don’t show it, but Oscar AND Ozpin said this in unison. Now, this and the few seconds that follow were a rollercoaster of emotions. Let’s break it down:

When they said this together, I was positively GIDDY with excitement: they’re leaning into the “like-minded souls” thing and calling attention to the situation! Surely this must be a sign that Oscar and Ozpin will indeed both exist when their souls are one, as they are both equally parts of the combination of lives that is Ozma. Well, maybe not equally (yet?). 

Then, my elation was replaced with dread. What if this was actually an indication of them “merging” in the way some of the FNDM interpret it will go, rather than how I think it does? Or what if that’s not what RT is doing, but what if the FNDM takes it as a sign Ozpin is taking over?? I can’t last the whole break without knowing!

AND THEN!!! Ugh, this made me so relieved. Ozpin says, in a slightly amused tone of voice with a trace of a laugh, “We certainly are similar, you and I.” YESSSSS more references to them being like-minded souls!! But still having differences!! 

“Maybe we have been presented with an opportunity.” I’m really glad they went the route where Oscar is changing Ozpin’s mind on things. Oz no longer thinks he knows best, and is allowing Oscar to come into his own. Now he’s seeing how far Oscar’s come and the person he is.

Related note: The commentary for the vol 7 finale said that it was Oscar’s speeches to Ironwood about fear and trust that made Oz realize he’s been keeping secrets and hiding out of fear, and inspired him to come back. This is so promising for Oscar’s character going forward.

[Side note: Would love more info on what Oscar meant in volume 7 when he said “these memories... you’re back, aren’t you?” because? Is he just referring to the scenes with things like how he talked about Atlas’ history as if he were there, or does he have access to Oz’s memories now? 2 chapters ago we saw that he doesn’t yet know the location of the Beacon Relic. So unless he was lying really well, he doesn’t have ALL the memories yet. So which ones does he have? RT EXPLAIN]

Next,

I would like to call attention to the fact that Oscar smiled here. After Ozpin said they were similar, I was worried Oscar would react the way he has in the past: sad and conflicted about his identity, worried he’s becoming less of himself. But no. Like we saw in Volume 7, THIS is who Oscar Pine is. His development was his own, and we get to see that when Ozpin returned because Oscar had made him rethink his choices. Oscar Pine is more himself now than he’s been at any other point in the series. 

It’s really brilliant how the writers have used these last 2 volumes to show that Penny, the robot, is one of the most human characters on the show; and Oscar, the boy cursed to death and rebirth with a soul that was not his own, is one of the most individualistic ones. It’s just really cool how they’re playing with our expectations of the characters. (They’re doing great with Salem, too!)

[Side note: Penny’s soul/aura was given to her by Pietro, and they still have distinct personalities and identities. It’s possible that’s a parallel to Oscar’s situation, but I do feel the merge’s completion will result in one remaining soul/identity - just not a “taking over” situation]

Okay, that’s the last of that rollercoaster I mentioned. 

Time to get on a new one!

At long last, this episode finally gave us something we haven’t had since chapter 4 of volume SIX*:

*(I am not counting the one second of "Oscar." *glowy eyes* *Oscar blinks and is back in control* in the vol 7 finale)

OZPIN IS BACK!!!!

First, HELL YES I WANTED THIS TO HAPPEN!!!

Second, wow, they can change really quickly now. At first it took effort and was super visible, then just shook Oscar up a bit with the glowy eyes, and now it seems almost effortless, seamless. The eyes glow and the transition is smooth. I like it.

We didn’t get to hear Oscar’s thoughts after Oz said “Oscar, please,” begging him again to let him take control. So we don’t know whether Oscar allowed it out of pain, exhaustion, their plan, or a decision to trust Oz and work together here. Alternatively, Ozpin may have simply taken over of his own accord. I wish the writers would give us more insight to Oscar’s thoughts, because those scenes already have him talking inside/to his own head, so leaving some of his thoughts out can seem intentional and open-ended, which could mean more dragging out answers, but I think this was fine. Not the worst case of this by far lol

WHEN! HE! SPOKE!

I was hoping for this with all my heart. Over the course of volume 7 in particular, we saw Oscar’s voice, mannerisms, and speech patters start to resemble Ozpin’s. However, he still sounds and feels like Oscar. Going back to Volume 5, heck, even Volume 6 (which is when we last saw Ozpin in control), the voice of Ozpin speaking through Oscar is similar, but distinctly different from how Oscar’s speaking now. So I’ve been theorizing and hoping, and it CAME TRUE! Ozpin sounds more like Oscar now, while still managing to clearly be Ozpin.

Right from the first “Hello,” it was noticeable. It sounded almost like Oscar. I know it’s the same voice actor when one of them is in control (same body, same vocal cords), but that just makes it even more impressive. This is the first time we’ve heard Ozpin’s voice speaking through Oscar since QRWBY yelled at him in the snow in vol 6. And I was NOT disappointed.

“Why do you follow her?” I’ll keep saying it, but he sounds so much like Oscar confronting Ironwood. 

“I know how you see me. But her? Look at what she does, how is she the answer, why not stop her??” This gives me serious deja vu to Oscar’s speech towards Hazel in the Battle of Haven (and his speech towards Ironwood in v7′s finale). That speech had given Hazel pause then, and this one does as well, now. Ozpin sounds angrier, though, more aware of just how far gone these people are, but knowing they can change.

Hazel calls Ozpin out for the same thing the FNDM has been, and honestly, it’s been a long time coming. Hazel’s motivations are extremely misguided, Oscar was right to stand up for Oz/Gretchen at Haven, and the show really needed to reinforce the Ozpin-isn’t-bad-actually thing. Now it’s all out in the open. But it’s Ozpin’s response to this that elevated this scene even more:

That’s it. Ozma has spent countless lives fighting a war that may be impossible to win. But if no one tries, no one will survive. The gods will destroy all of Remnant. Still, every single lifetime, he chooses to try. Like Oscar said in volume 5 (about Hazel’s sister but writing-wise also kinda about Pyrrha), “She made a choice! A choice to put others before herself. So do I.” Like-minded souls.

AND THIS!!! Good gods I’m glad he said this. The show went way too long before anyone even questioned the “You can’t” answer from Jinn. Nora mentioned it in passing earlier, which I liked a lot (though this really should’ve been discussed in volume 6, but better late than never). But here? We see that Oz never gave up, never planned on losing, not sending people to a battle he “knows they can’t win.” While Salem is immortal, she is not infallible. Not even the gods were. Salem can be fought. Even Hazel has a moment of hesitation, perhaps even realization, before Salem enters.

Salem manipulates Cinder, offering her the maiden powers she wants so badly, and Ozpin interjects. “You’ll only be helping her bring about the end, for all of you!”

I just wanted to show these shots because again, just as we’ve seen Oscar’s mannerisms become increasingly similar to Ozpin’s, now that he’s back, we get to see the other way around. Look at the surprise and fear on his face. Look at how he widens his eyes and raises his eyebrows instead of narrowing/furrowing them now. Listen to the sounds he makes when tortured or thrown about. Listen to the desperation and earnest passion held in his pleas. He’s no longer hiding -- he’s being honest with the people who scare him most, and truly trying to help them see the light. 

[Side note: Cinder is not showing remorse in this scene, but I wonder how she’d react to Oscar, not Ozpin, being tortured. In the same episode, we have Cinder being tortured with a shock collar, AND we have Oscar decide to try to appeal to the humanity left in these villains. Last time we saw Oscar, Salem was torturing him with intense, almost electric magic. She might not care, but I wonder...]

ANYWAY I’m done for now. Have a TL;DR that wound up being long too

TL;DR: 

Basically, I’m super happy with the writers for the detail put into these scenes: 

they confirmed Oz has been begging to take over and bear the torture instead

had Oscar come up with an idea himself instead of getting rescued or immediately escaping

had Oscar view his dire situation as an opportunity, reminding us of his optimism and capabilities as a strategist

had Ozpin not know what Oscar’s plan was before he explained it (this might change as the souls become one, but it at least shows they think differently)

Oscar’s plan to appeal to the villains’ humanity and infiltrate Salem’s forces from within lining up with his volume 7 character development

had Oz trust Oscar and put his faith in him, which is progress for Oz

Oz and Oscar speaking in unison and agreeing to work together

Ozpin’s comment about them being similar, not the same

had Ozpin take control to speak to Hazel

Ozpin’s speech to Hazel and Cinder as parallels to Oscar’s speeches to Hazel and Ironwood, which CRWBY said were the reason Oz realized his secrecy is out of fear of trust, and Oscar’s points are what inspired him to come back.

Ozpin sounding and acting more like Oscar just like we’ve seen happen the other way around (though with Oscar, he’s holding true to his own ideas/morals, with Oz meeting him there)

established hope for some of our villains to defect, setting it in motion.

[raevenlywrites]

The Ties That Bind 19 of ???

I couldn’t sleep this night, and there was little point in trying. So I stayed among my people, hoping my presence would reassure them where my words might have failed. I had never been more grateful for my people’s habit of holding our emotions close; it kept my fury with my mother’s milquetoast words at a manageable distance.

She was better than this. I’d heard her give inspiring speeches all my life, words that inspired hope where it was waning, fervor where it was lost. I could only view tonight as an act of sabotage, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why. What would she have to gain from undermining me, and the peace I was trying to build? Was it not what we all were working towards?

On the one hand, I wanted very much to speak with her, to demand an explanation. But on the other... well, I had sort of given up. From the moment the Disa suggested marriage, my mother had been shut down. There was more at work here than the surface negotiations of peace. My mother seemed deeply disturbed at the notion of my life deviating from her plan for it--and that was just too bad. It was my life, my reign, my people. Her ways and her mother’s ways and her mother’s mother’s ways had not led to any resolution. I was willing to try something new.

But I was never alone with my thoughts for too very long. It was rare for the Shardae to mingle nowdays outside of festivals and holy days, so many were eager for my attention. Many offered wishes for my continued good health, simple excuses to engage and be near. More than I wished expressed their condolences for our “wasted trip” out to the Mistari, which I politely redirected back towards the news of Irene’s expectancy. Those that topic did not turn away expressed interest in my singing in the birth, and did that mean that I would be returned to my work with the midwives, now that I would no longer be needed on the battlefields? It was an excellent question, and one I hadn’t considered, but found that my answer was an eager yes. It did much to buoy my spirits to think my family gifts returned to acts of growth rather than simply easing the pain of loss. Perhaps even my mother--

I didn’t care to think on my mother overly much this night.

So I stayed among my people until well after moonset, making note of those faces that stayed, those that seemed cautiously hopeful, and those who’s distrust and disdain I’d had to redirect. There weren’t many who lived directly in and around the Keep; I knew most by family name at least, from the Lyssia tailors to the jewelers who ran the Aurita, to the Silvermead blacksmiths and soldiers.

One I did know by first name, Jeanne Kejamarl, approached me much later in the evening. I remembered her from our shared school days, when I was still learning to shape my letters and reading only the simple sentences chalked on the board. The children of the Keep were all raised and educated together, because there were so few. So while I had little cause to interact with the Kejamarl tanneries directly, I knew Jeanne by name, though I wouldn’t call her a friend now, the way I did Elanor. Which I only considered because of how utterly forward her question was.

“Forgive my asking, Shardae, but why wasn’t Captain Andreios by your side this evening?”

I blinked, long and slow and foolish. My brain felt like thick mud, unwilling to allow my thoughts to rotate and pivot this conversation change with any speed.

“I know it’s not my place to question, but if you’re not going to announce him your alastair....”

Jeanne’s cheeks colored, and I realized with shock and horror the direction this conversation was headed, too late to head it off. She was interested in Rei, and I had dragged my feet so long that others were wondering if they might court him.

It wasn’t entirely uncommon for young adults to pursue one another. Yes, alastairs were often chosen for children in their infancy, but tragically all too often, those alastairs and pairbonds did not live to see adulthood. And while it was traditional for men to take the role of alastair--chivalrous protectors--it wasn’t unheard of for a would be pairbond to express her interest in being pursued. And Rei was handsome, and highly ranked, and courteous and thoughtful and dependable--

The thought of his lips against mine came surging back, filling my own cheeks with heat. Luckily, Jeanne misinterpreted my reaction for embarrassment at the topic--or maybe not so much a misinterpretation--and quickly backed off.

“I’m so sorry, m’lady, I shouldn’t have asked.” She ducked her head, chin all but tucked to her chest as she tried to make herself small. “It’s just after all the rumors of the Arami’s proposal, and with Rei’s absence--“

“He didn’t propose!”

I snapped a too rapid answer in a furious whisper, too caught up in my own snarl of emotions to keep my usual decorum.

“I don’t know who started that stupid rumor but I would really appreciate it if people stopped speculating about my private life!”

Jeanne looked up, horror warring with curiosity. It was utterly unlike me to be so emotional--and if she was a lover of gossip, this was too good to miss. I cursed inwardly and did my best to regain my composure.

“Jeanne, please. It has been an excruciatingly long day, week, all of it, and I am tired of my love life being the topic of so much discussion. It’s unseemly, don’t you think?”

“Yes, m’lady, of course. I shouldn’t--“ “No, you shouldn’t. And I would ask you please to keep others from discussing it as well? I have enough to deal with right now.” I sighed, hoping to use the show of emotion to my advantage. “I hope to start my own family under the light of peace, not in the shadow of my brother’s funeral.”

“Yes, m’lady. Gods above, yes of course. I’m so sorry.”

I reached out, laying the lightest touch on her arm. “Please. I don’t need your apologies, just your consideration. You knew me when I still couldn’t form my S’s front ways.” She smiled at the shared memory, and how ridiculous it was that I couldn’t write out “Shardae”. “Please give me the room to be just Danica where I can. There are so many places where that won’t be possible.”

“Of course, my--Danica.”

I smiled, trying to positively reinforce the behavior. My mother had become distant from our people, and by extension, me. So many of them had expressed a desire to see us out and among them again. If I could befriend my people again, help them see this shift as a positive one, become their darling, golden young queen, perhaps it could help me regain the power our family had lost to the generals. I could sell them an idealistic young family, a vision of the future that was shiny and bright.

Maybe, if I sold it hard enough, I might believe it myself.

“Rei is back with the serpiente, helping keep the Arami safe.” Jeanne’s eyes widen, and I nod, leaning closer as if in confidence. “There’s no one else I would trust with so high a priority. Here among my people, I could not possibly be safer. But I worry for Zane--as my mother said, this is an extremely brave thing for him to be doing. I hope my people will greet him with courtesy and dignity, but I am too pragmatic to trust his safety to anyone less than Rei.”

There. Maybe using his nickname twice will drive the point home. Of course, a part of me whispers that if I just declare my intentions on him here and now that would end all of it. I have no reason not to. Everyone assumes I’m as good as his pairbond. But for some reason I don’t--probably because I worry the story will grow in the telling, much like my “proposal” from Arami Zane. No, when I’m ready for word to spread, it will be through an official announcement, not from wildfire gossip from an old schoolmate. I release her arm and take a step back, letting some of my weariness show on my face.

“Now I think its time I take my leave. We all have a big day tomorrow. I should try to sleep while I can.”

I take another step back and melt into my golden hawk’s form, trusting whoever is on my most personal guard duty to peel off and follow as they always do. Only I don’t fly up to my balcony on the far side of the Keep. Instead, I turn my flight towards the east, and the waiting encampment of serpiente. - I am not so foolish as to have not considered this to be a potential invasion. I have let a score of serpiente warriors within an hour’s flight of the heart of my kingdom. But as I have said, more times than I care to, I refuse to behave as if Zane will betray me. It will either happen or it won’t. If a cobra is destined to slay a hawk again, then I have made peace with it being me. Our people began with one golden queen, if they are to end with simply one, then Fate will have her way no matter what we design. And honestly, they could do worse with a conquering monarch than Zane Cobriana. From what I have seen, he is fair, just, considerate, and generally in favor of art, self-expression, the well-being of his people--

I bank and circle back, realizing  my mental wandering has allowed my wings to wander as well. I am too tired to think, but thinking is all I seem to be able to do. I want to see Rei, to wrap myself in the warmth and comfort of his arms to maybe try another few kisses, softer and gentler this time, to reassure myself that my life has not turned completely upside down. Instead I am circling around the encampment, having flown right over it while thinking of Zane Cobriana’s qualities as a king.

I realize as I circle in to land that partially my mistake was due to the sheer size of the gathering. I don’t know what my distracted mind must have made of the numerous campfires now dotting the fields, a small village perhaps, but it is certainly too many for the two score of soldiers or so that should be out here. This gathering is nearly twice that, centered around a ring of figures--

Dancing.

Zane and Adelina are dancing, with six other serpents besides. They weave in and out of each others’ steps, intricate rings within rings, scales flashing in every color of the rainbow.

Serpiente warriors can grow a scaled demi form, much like the large, angelic wings we avians sprout. While ours are used to give us an aerial advantage in battle, theirs provides a natural amrour that only the keenest arrow can pierce. And much like our wings can be used as an expression of beauty, an elegant backdrop to fine garments and jewelry, so are the serpiente before us using their scales now. Lines of color sparkle like living veins of gemstones, from the iridescent white of Adelina’s viper, to rich reds and greens of dancers I do not know, to the shimmering obsidian of Zane’s cobra.

They are a perfect complement to each other, his dark hair and scales reflecting red in the firelight, hers glinting gold like a low harvest moon. They sway and swirl, moving around each other and through their fellow dancers as if bound by an invisible chord. It is heartbreakingly beautiful, and I understand why every one of my subjects simply stands and stares. It is like nothing any of us have ever seen before, except maybe the soldiers.

I remember the ready pose Zane and Adelina fall into so easily, and thinking how perfectly it would transition to either dance or combat. I am mesmerized by the dance; I can only imagine how impossible they might seem to fight. I am struck with the sudden realizaiton that our survival til now seems nothing short of miraculous. Without the falcon’s am haj to allow us to fight with such lethality from the skies--

I want nothing more to do with this line of thought, so I land, picking a spot far enough away from the dancing serpents so as not to startle anyone. The avians in the crowd all know the silhouette of my hawk’s form, but it is late, and I am trying to be discrete. Still, several soldiers peel away, bowing swiftly as they make a report.

“No trouble yet, your majesty. As you suggested, the serpiente are well able to sense intent. None were allowed past the outer perimeter that were anything other than curious.” Curious. I should have thought of that. Raymond steps up at my side, and I realize he was one of the ravens flanking me. “Erica flew in during your mother’s speech, m’lady, with a message from Zane and Andreios. Neither one of them say any harm in letting a few come and see, but--well, I wished they’d said it was more than just a few. I never would have fielded such a decision for you if I’d thought--“

“It’s alright,” I say, holding up a hand. “If Zane allowed it, and Andreios cleared it, then I trust their judgement. I didn’t even think folks would venture out, so they’re steps ahead of me.” I gave Raymond a tired smile. “In all things security, I don’t mind letting Rei make decisions. It’s matters of battle and war I wish to be consulted on. Allowing a few--okay, more than a few--curious folk out to meet our guests...”

I trailed off, feeling sick at the idea of how poorly this could have gone. We were treading the most precarious line, and I’d barely thought any of it out. And Zane had simply come, trusting.

I should have worked something else out. I never should have asked him to come here--

“Dani.”

Rei was suddenly before me, undoubtedly alerted to my presence here. Too tired to care anymore who saw or what they thought, I let myself fall into his arms. This was all I’d been seeking. I hadn’t meant to stumble onto more trouble, more problems--I just wanted to be held, and get some sleep.

“Do you have a tent sent up?” I asked, trying at least to keep my voice between just the pair of us.

“For you? No, but we can--“

I shook my head. “Yours is fine. I’m exhausted, we’re in the field. There’s no where safer for my than by your side, right?”

Rei sighed, but I could see him caving in. “I mean, ostensibly you were safer back at the Keep, but yes.” He tucked his arm over my shoulder, with all the familiarity of an alastair in private. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”

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[royallyjoon]

cursed stars

cred for the gif goes to whoever made it! 🤍

fairy au, royalty au

yandere! jung hoseok x f! reader (wind chimes: part II of II) 

warnings: yandere themes, delusions of grandeur, violent behavior, and manipulation

once hoseok “successfully” claimed you as his queen, you are introduced to a tedious life as the princess of Wysteria: etiquette lessons in the morning  with a testy crone of a duchess and tea at noon with His Highness himself. a new guest comes to the palace, introducing himself as an old friend of the prince’s. despite all your thoughts of returning home, your beloved knows there’s no force on Earth strong enough to rival his love for possessing you.

(a/n): hello everyone~~ all i can say is: wow!! thanks again for all the love, and for being patient with me and waiting for the next and final installment of this series haha. i have a lot more works in the drafts; please look forward to them as well** this one’s a bit of a long one; hope you enjoy! may we all bow in the final presence of the prince and princess~  :) love, ati

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“The Fae of Wysteria are a majestic race, coming in all shapes, sizes, and colors. However, a distinct aspect of our people stems from our heritage—we are pure-blooded, descending from the Heavenly Crowned King and Queen, Rostel and Elisia. The information we have about their descending to Earth is mostly written in memoirs from scribes who happened to be alive at the time. The records vary in terms of what they were doing that day and where they were in Wysteria but two significant details remain consistent: One, the heavens opened and through the clouds, one could see a vast sky of night alit with stars. Two, the Heavenly Royalty flew through the clouds to descend upon our humble abode and bless us with their presence.”

You placed your elbow on the mahogany desk before which you sat, planting your head in your hands. Usually, you did not mind history lessons but the way the Duchess droned on you felt your head nodding back and forth, almost dropping on the desk multiple times.

“Our Heavenly Crowned rulers blessed certain fairies with their powers and decreed that every eight centuries, a new fairy be born with iridescent wings, for that child was to be our new ruler. Those meant to serve in that child’s palace would be born the same year with silver wings and would reside by their side until the end of the eight hundred years. We have carried on with this tradition for--(Y/N)!”

There was a harsh smack on the table in front of you and you jumped up to witness the Duchess with her pale hand on the desk. She glared at you and you rolled your eyes in annoyance. “Yes, Duchess Roxia, I was listening. Iridescent wings for the next ruler, silver wings for the servants, they rule and live in the palace for a century.”

The crone sneered. “Eight centuries, (Y/N). Eight. Never will I understand why His Highness is wasting his time with the likes of you.” She slid her hand from the desk, nails itching to scratch the polished surface. 

“In the past, I was hired to teach only the proudest of fae this generation has seen. When His Highness summoned me, I thought to myself, ‘This! This is what I’ve been waiting centuries for! To be welcomed back into the palace, to teach only the highest of fae kind! To bring honor to my family’s disgraced legacy!’ Only to find out he brought me here to educate his human plaything.”

You suffered this kind of verbal abuse on a daily basis. She would belittle and insult you to her heart’s content, then mercilessly quiz you on the material she’s taught during the hour and fifteen-minute lecture. Most of the time, you barely passed. 

“Of course, I could be out in the world doing better things with my life, but who am I to refuse a request from His Highness?” She sighs, the noise heavy and more similar to a grunt than a dispel of air.

“That is why it is my personal goal to make you the best crown princess Wysteria has seen. Politics, history, etiquette--you will know it all in three months’ time for the coronation. His Highness will be so enamored with my skill, perhaps he’ll keep me in the palace to teach the next Crown Prince or Princess! Oh, the honor!” She gazed out the window, the nicest expression you’ve ever seen written all over her face. 

And it was excitement at the thought of her selfish opportunity.

You glanced at the clock and shut your dusty textbooks. “Yes, well, thanks so much for the lesson, Duchess. But class is over and I have to meet with His Highness in about fifteen minutes. Have a good day.” You bowed to her and scrambled out the classroom with your head ducked down. 

“Lift your head, (Y/N)! Walk like royalty!” She snapped as the grand doors of the library shut.

                                          ~~~~~~

You strolled through the corridor with Olivia in tow, taking your time to smell the flowers and feel the breeze. It was almost always sunny here now that Hoseok had you where he wanted you.

You had the finest jewels, the prettiest gowns, and the most handsome man in the kingdom laid down in front of you, yet all you wanted to do was get away from here.

He hadn’t harmed you since that awful night on the balcony, but he was in no way hesitant to do it again. You could sense it in every icy gaze he sent your way when he felt you were “misbehaving”.

The heels of your sandals clacked against the floors and you turned into the palace’s garden. Alit with soft, colored lanterns the smells from the flower petals hit you all at once. It took you back to the day you sat in that field and performed the summoning Etha so desperately wanted.

Etha...you had had no way to contact the mortal world since your capture. Hoseok had provided no comforting thought towards your friend. He simply assured you that she would be fine but she had no place here, as she was “but a mortal, and you are so much more.” 

A likely story.

His wings were the first thing to catch your eye, gleaming and reflecting their multitude of colors when they met the sun. At the sound of your footsteps, he rose and approached you with a smile.

“Good morning, my dear. How were your classes?” He took your arm, leading you to the chair opposite his at the table. Olivia gently pulled your books from your arms and bowed, exiting without a word.

He pulled the chair out as you smoothed your dress out and sat. “They went as they always do...Duchess Roxia talked about the characteristics of a ruler and their servants and the length of their reign.”

Hoseok took his place and clapped his hands. Immediately, two fairies were setting tea, cups, and delicacies onto the table.

“Ah, our Regal Doctrine. She’s already managed to teach you that much, eh? Perhaps she is worth keeping around.”

You internally rolled your eyes. Had Hoseok known how Duchess Roxia was treating you, she would probably be halfway home by now.

As awful as the crone was, she was your only excuse for spending less time with the Prince. You would pick classes over emotional and psychological torture every day.

The table had grown eerily silent. You looked up to find Hoseok looking at you, seemingly waiting for something.

“Duchess Roxia informed me she taught you table etiquette during last Friday’s lesson.”

“Oh.” You shifted uncomfortably, trying to recall the exact steps.

“I’ll give you a hint,” Hoseok leaned forwards on the table, resting his head on his palm, “it begins with how you pour the tea.”

You nodded and slowly stood up, walking over to the teapot. The Duchess had said to grasp it so that when you pour, the top would not come out of place.

“A princess must always pour the tea for her prince and any visiting guests. It is crucial in demonstrating good table manners to all.”

You picked up the teapot gently, feeling Hoseok watch your every move. “The right hand to hold, the left to stop,” you murmured to yourself.

Once you felt your hands were in the correct position you held the pot an adequate height over the teacup—not too high, not too low—and began to pour. The tea did not splash around in the cup, rather it settled very gently and you waited until it rose to just a little before the rim. Then you placed the pot down, somewhat proud of yourself. “Sugar?”

Hoseok leaned back in his seat, a grin breaking out on his face. He clapped. “Wonderful! You did it perfectly, darling. I’ll take two lumps of sugar, please.”

You grabbed the lumps with a spoon and dropped them in his cup.

“You’re doing an excellent job so far, darling. You’ll be the perfect Princess of Wysteria in no time.” He continued smiling, despite the growing chill in the air.

“When I see you doing so well in your classes, it reinforces my hopes for you.” Your wrist froze, the lumps only partly dissolved. Hoseok pried the spoon from your fingers, taking your hand in his. “To think you thought you’d be anything but mine.”

The wind chimes sounding from the city hadn’t been so loud a moment before, but now they were deafening. The wind whipped your hair and dress around as you gazed down angrily, yet terrified at Hoseok. He met your gaze, doing nothing but pressing his soft lips against your hand.

And all at once, there was silence once more.

“You must forgive me, (Y/N). Every time I think back to that night, I get a little...angry.” His brown eyes were practically glowing once more, switching back and forth between dark and purple irises.

You pulled your hand from his grasp and promptly sat away from him. Hoseok continued spinning the spoon in the tea, dissolving the rest of the sugar.

“I have exciting news.” he continued. “A dear friend of mine is coming to visit in time for our coronation.”

You tilted your head curiously. “Friend?” You weren’t aware that Hoseok communed with people outside of the palace that often.

“Yes, an older friend from my childhood. He and I are extremely close and he wished to visit to see me become King before he commences travel once more.”

“Oh.” You sat, sampling the delicacies at the table. “...If you’re inviting a friend, would I be able to invite Etha for the corona-”

The wind picked up again. You heard the sound of metal slicing through the air and a knife from Hoseok’s side of the table landed inches, no, centimeters, away from your hand.

You stopped short. “Never mind,” you whispered.

Hoseok glared at the table, purple eyes fierce and gleaming. “Perhaps it is time for you to go back to your lessons, (Y/N).”

Olivia appeared at the doorway and you raced towards her, forgetting proper table manners to bow towards the prince once you exit.

For some reason, you felt the need to burst into tears.

                            ~~~~~~

“He can bring whatever friends he wishes to, of course, yet I ask him to bring the only friend I’ve ever mentioned to him, who he knows of, and all of a sudden it’s a problem.” Soon after you left the garden, your fear and sadness dissipated into growing anger. You practically stomped down the hallway towards the room you occupied since your arrival. “He’s being hypocritical, again.”

“He may do whatever he wishes, Your Highness. He is the Prince.” Olivia mutters back to you. “If he feels as though he does not want any human presence tainting the purity of his coronation, he may ban their presence altogether.”

“Then why am I allowed there, Olivia?” You held your anger at bay, yet your lips twitched into a perceptible sneer. “Unless you have forgotten, I’m human. I don’t belong here as much as Etha-”

You doubled back in surprise as Olivia’s eyes widened and she threw herself at your feet. “Forgive me, Your Highness!” She cried out, head bowed to the floor. 

“What are you doing?” You knelt beside her and tried to pull her up but her hands stuck to your ankles with a deadly grasp. 

“Please forgive me!”

“For what?” You were exasperated at this point, but more worried. Olivia never did anything wrong; of all your handmaidens she was the strictest.

“I have wronged her Highness by insinuating an impurity with her birth! I beg of you, please!”

You kneeled in silence for a moment. With a heavy sigh, you stood. “You’re the last person to say something cruel on purpose, Olivia. You only spoke the truth. You’re forgiven; will you please stand up now?”

She pulled herself to her feet, her blue dress crumpled from the floors. To your shock, tears streamed down her face.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, gripping her by the arms.

She shook her head. “It’s nothing of importance, Your Highness. I thank you for your grace and mercy.” She curtsied, knees almost touching the floor. 

You looked around, trying to see if there were any onlookers. When your eyes found nothing, you hurriedly walked towards your room, pulling Olivia along with you.

Hoseok frowned from his column perch. The maid was a good one--too good to let go. 

But he couldn’t let her go unpunished for insulting his future Queen.

The prince smirked, flying away silently.

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

Olivia’s curious behavior quit after that day. It was the biggest display of emotion you had ever witnessed from her. Rattling, to say the least. 

Two weeks went by uneventfully. All too soon, you were sitting in the library as Duchess Roxia went over the history of fae and human relations.

“Humans have attempted to contact the fae realm for centuries now, and only a few have succeeded. None to your extent, of course,” she sneered sarcastically.

“They blunder about in the forest searching for fields and lakes, trying to find a place with the right amount of ‘energy’,” the Duchess laughed and it sparked annoyance in you. “The pitiful things actually believe they have control over who they summon and where.”

Her mockery of the ritual that made you end up here, that currently has you trapped under the thumb of a purple and black-haired prince, made a new level of anger arise within you. You slammed your book on the desk and began putting away your “notes”.

 “Any fairy who attempted to make contact first spelled destruction for Wys- (Y/N), where do you think you are going?”

“I’m leaving,” you snapped. “Perhaps I’ll return when I feel as though I’m being taught useful information and not racist sentiments from some bigot.”

You tucked the books into the corner of your arm and marched towards the door. Duchess Roxia’s heels clacked on the floor quickly behind you and before you could say another word, she wrapped her wrinkly fingers around your wrist, spinning you around.

The sound of your books crashing to the floor echoed in the library, but not as loudly as the crack of her hand against your cheek.

“You insufferable little bug,” she seethed. “I am not finished with my lesson, therefore you will be going nowhere. Pick up your books and take your seat, unless I must spell you to remain seated from now on.”

The flush of anger sat deep within your chest now and you threw her hands off of you. “Try me, bitch.” You resisted the urge to spit on her face and continued to head out of the library.

There was the sound of the Duchess sighing behind you but you paid no mind. Until, that is, you felt little sparks running through your hands and feet. 

“I’m sure His Highness would not be pleased to hear of your insubordination...no worries. I will punish you in his place.” You felt yourself turn around, once again not of your own volition, to face the witch. She had both arms outstretched, wrinkly hands controlling your every movement.

The next moment, you felt like there was electricity convulsing through every inch of your being. It was painful, yes, but you were not allowed to scream or call out for help.

She had you at her whim.

About five minutes later, Duchess Roxia released her hold on you. Your body dropped to the floor, fingers still twitching unknowingly.

“Need I repeat myself, (Y/N)?” She cackled. “Books. Seat. Now.”

There was nothing you could do. You picked the textbooks up off the floor, stumbling a bit, and then slammed them back on the table. She scoffed at your helplessness, lecture continuing without a hiccup.

Your cheek burned. Your entire body ached.

When the lesson did end some thirty minutes later, you waited for her to leave the library first. Olivia passed by her as she exited before gasping at your condition.

“Your Highness!” She collected your books and tried to make you rise, but you were glued to the seat. Not by spelling, as if you’d let that witch’s magic get anywhere near you twice, but by your own indignation.

The handmaiden finally managed to make you rise and helped you to your room.

Upon entering, Raina, Eliza, and Kyla gasped, leaving their cleaning to crowd around you and ask what happened. 

“Duchess Roxia slapped me,” you revealed as you placed enough foundation on your face to cover the mark. “Then she used her powers on me. I felt like I was being shocked in every part of my body.”

“How dare she lay her hands on the future queen!” Raina growled, her eyes glowing a bright hazel. “It’s high treason!”

Kyla nodded, cracking her knuckles. “We should go incapacitate her and drag her before the prince and princess to answer for her crimes.”

Those dear, four handmaidens. Your jailers who happened to be the people you have closest to friends.

You managed to earn their trust, and they managed to earn yours. They were only cruel to you when you decided to go against the prince’s wishes...which was in their best interest as they would be the ones he punished if you acted out.

“There’s no need,” you sighed, finishing up with the foundation. “In her mind, she was completely in the right. There’s no fae law that prohibits the use of magic on humans.”

Olivia sighed. “His Highness would be most displeased to find you like this,” She muttered.

“It’s none of his business,” you said. “I don’t need him to fight my battles for me. Especially not the ones he placed me in himself.”

“As you wish, Your Highness,” Eliza said, having a conversation through her eyes with Olivia that you couldn’t bear to translate at that moment.

As off-putting as your handmaidens were, they were the only ones you could freely talk to. At times, you found their presence and protectiveness comforting.

But it wasn’t as comforting as your home.

When you were finished, Olivia quickly led you back to the garden. The aftereffects of the shock were thankfully gone now; there would be nothing suspicious for the prince to question you about later on.

This time, Hoseok sat at the table with another man. He had a pale complexion for his skin tone, which was not too dark or too light. His hair was straight, hanging into his eyes. He, too, carried silver wings on his back, similar to those of your handmaiden’s, but slightly larger.

“(Y/N), my dear!” Hoseok gushed as you approached the table. Olivia took her place behind your chair as you curtsied to the prince and the guest. 

“Greetings, Your Highness.” You muttered.

Hoseok could sense something off with his love, but he knew wouldn’t be able to confront it at that moment, not with his guest here.

“This is Lord Yoongi, the friend I spoke to you about.”

The man, Yoongi, stood and bowed to you as you curtsied. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness. Hoseok has told me much about you.”

You rose, eyebrows shooting up a little when you heard him address the prince by his first name. “All good things, I hope.” you smiled. 

“Of course.” He flashed a closed-lip smile at you and Hoseok stood, pulling out your chair. You poured the tea for Hoseok and Yoongi just as you had the day before.

“Do you take sugar with your tea?” You asked, placing two lumps in Hoseok’s cup. As much as he tried to hide it, for whatever reason, he was beaming with pride. 

“Three, please.” The answer surprised you again, but you hid with a smile.

Who exactly was this man?

You gently placed the cup before him and took your seat. Hoseok moved his chair so that he sat in between you and Yoongi, forming a triangle at the round table. 

“I can’t quite explain how amazing it is to have two of my absolute favorite people meet,” Hoseok grinned. You couldn’t help but feel a little disgruntled: he was never this smiley around you.

“Yeah, yeah, we get it. You’re a bundle of emotions,” Yoongi snorted, sipping at his drink. “How are the preparations going for the coronation?”

Hoseok grabbed your hand in his and placed it on his lap. “I’ve been covering most of the duties, as (Y/N) here catches up with her studies. How was your class today, darling?”

You could feel Olivia’s glare on the back of your head and your body shook in  reminder of your lessons. “It’s difficult, but what is education if not a challenge? I'm just really excited to be learning more about Wysteria’s history and culture.”

Yoongi nodded. “It isn’t easy at all, I commend you for your dedication. I know it may take a while to get used to, but I’m sure Wysteria can become a home for you just as much as it is for any other citizen.”

“That’s very kind of you to say...thank you.” You were taken aback by his kindness. All of your other encounters were racist or harmful, but Yoongi seemed to genuinely accept your presence here.

An attendant stepped closer and whispered something in Hoseok’s ear. His grip on your hand tightened but he let go to stand up. “I’m afraid there are some manners in the ballroom I must attend to. Please, feel free to chat amongst one another.”

Hoseok leaned down and you held your breath, praying he wouldn’t comment on the makeup. 

His lips went to your ear all of a sudden, and he whispered: “Every day could be like today, you know.”

Then his lips were on your cheek, and he was walking out with all the servants.

You stared after him curiously. What could that have possibly meant?

After Hoseok left, you shifted in your chair uncomfortably. Yoongi crossed his legs and leaned back in his seat.

“So...how long ago did he take you?”

Your eyes shot up. “Did he tell yo-I mean...” your voice faltered, unsure if you should even be asking the question. Were you supposed to refute the claim? 

“I know him like the back of my hand; he’s the only fairy powerful enough to bring a human into this realm. And as smiley as you are around him, I can tell you’re not here of your own accord. So when did you get taken?”

You paused. “A month ago,” you murmured. 

Yoongi hummed, looking at the lanterns and vines behind you. 

“He’s not a bad person,” he commented. “He’s always been a bit...off, but it didn’t show as much in his youth because he had so much energy and familial support.”

“How long have you known him?” You asked.

“Since childhood,” Yoongi said. “My parents used to attend his in the palace. When he, the new set of servant fairies, and I were born, my parents took to training them and I was a sort of babysitter. I must admit, I can understand what you’re going through. He was quite possessive of me in his youth shortly after he lost his parents. He clung to me all the time, really.”

A gummy smile broke out upon Yoongi’s face, and you felt your lips twitch in response. “Really? That’s...interesting.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent listening to Yoongi dispel stories about the young prince and their escapades in the palace. 

“The old king and queen always told me that they hoped I’d be a friend of Hoseok’s for life.” He mused, eyes clouding a bit. 

You paused at the sudden mention of his parents. “...Is it alright for me to ask what happened to them?”

Yoongi was quiet for a long while, and you were afraid you had overstepped your boundaries. Yet he began speaking a few moments later.

“It was an ambush,” he muttered.

Your head snapped up.

“On his birthday, Hoseok’s parents were holding a score of festivities to celebrate their seventieth reign together. I was still fairly young in fairy years, and Hoseok was even younger.” He continued.

“There was an insurrection in the palace...a group of commoners’ used the party as their opportunity to annihilate the royal family despite their divine right to hold the throne.” Yoongi held his teacup so firmly, the ceramic began to shake in his grasp. “Hoseok only survived because he and I immediately ran to hide with the servants. So many servants sacrificed themselves for us that night...

“They never discovered the person who let them into the palace. Commoners in Wysteria don’t have wings, you see. Only servants meant to be with the royals and the royals themselves possess the ability to fly.” Yoongi drifted off, lost in his thoughts. “I have my own suspicion about who it was, but I fear starting an investigation would cost Hoseok his current mental state.”

Never would you have guessed what the prince had gone through. “I could never imagine...thank you for telling me.” Nevertheless, you couldn’t help but wonder: did his response to the loss of his parents truly excuse his actions?

 Yoongi sighed. “They were truly great parents to him but taken too soon.” He lifted himself from the chair and walked over to you. “Shall we go find him in the ballroom?”

You stood. “Sounds like a great plan.” 

Olivia's eyes widened in glee at the sight of Yoongi. “Greetings, Lord Min. It’s wonderful to see you around the palace again.”

“As it is to see you, Olivia. I remember when you were still a toddler in the palace...time goes by all too soon.”

You smiled a little at the thought of Olivia as a toddler, learning etiquette.

The three of you walked out of the garden only to bump into none other than Duchess Roxia, lurking down the corridor.

Your breath hitched in your throat as her eyes passed right over you to land on Yoongi. “Why, if it isn’t the Lord of Tierny himself! A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Duchess Roxia, royal teacher of the future que-”

Yoongi pushed right by her and kept walking without a blink. “Come, (Y/N), we have to go find the prince.”

You stood behind in shock, watching as the Duchess whipped around in surprise. Olivia gave you a little shove forward and you walked briskly lest you be caught in the aftermath of her fury, again.

When you rounded the corner, there was nothing to stop you from cackling as loudly as possible. 

                                ~~~~~~

Hoseok had expected a lot of things from your arrival. The anger and the confusion were a given, but your desperation to leave was the one thing he could not wrap his head around.

He saw you as his queen from the moment you shook those wind chimes on the lakeside. How regal you looked, skin draped in moonlight and eyes alight with the stars. There was nothing left that the Earth could gift you with, thus he took it as his responsibility to give you all the niceties in life. Never again would he allow another creature to pollute your natural grace and kindness. 

The night he caught you on the balcony, oh how the strength of your sobs tore at his very core. He didn’t want his love to be unhappy; he brought you here because the two of you belonged together. Couldn’t you tell?

Of course, he never questioned your love for him. Why else would you have wished for him to take you on an adventure so sweetly, so openly? 

Sure, he may have lost his temper quite a few times but it was well within reason. 

The first time you two had met, when he saw you donned in his royal garments in the library that day, he thought you couldn’t be any more beautiful.

So when he saw you walking in with Yoongi, eyes scrunched up and mouth split open by a wide grin, he knew he’d been proven wrong. 

Your silk dress slid along the floor as you leaned back in laughter, arms wrapped around your soft frame. The light entered the room at just the perfect angle and Hoseok was able to witness the star greet your skin and light it up, like a parent with arms open to welcome their child home. He grinned softly. 

“My lord! That was--that was amazing!” The older man could not understand for the life of him what you found so funny. Little did he know that dismissal of Duchess Roxia made your entire week. 

“Hoseok-ah, come get your fiance.” The man groaned but chuckled, taken aback by the force of your laughter. 

You calmed yourself as you neared the center of the ballroom and the prince approached you “Care to tell me what’s so funny?” He asked amusedly.

You shook your head, smiling at the floor. “Duchess Roxia attempted to greet Lord Yoongi but in our haste to see you, he paid her no mind...she was left ever so crestfallen in the hallway,” snorts attempted to take over your words once more but suppressed the giggling.

Hoseok looked at his oldest friend in shock. “Hyung!”

Yoongi widened his eyes and spread his arms innocently. “I had places to go!”

As the two bickered, you took in Hoseok’s work, admiring the way the ballroom gleamed. There was no doubt about it, the event would be beautiful but you still were not positive that you wanted to be a part of it. 

“Every day could be like today.”

Is that what he’d meant? No cowering in fear from the anger of your supposed fiance, no disgusting teachers or challenging examinations? Just sunlight and laughter and friendship?

Don’t be ridiculous, you chastised yourself. You’re never going to stop longing for home, and Hoseok is never going to get over that. When Yoongi leaves, you’ll be transported from one tormentor to the next. 

There would be no end. There is no method to his madness.

But...perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad place to stay...

“(Y/N)?” Hoseok waved a hand in front of your face and you violently flinched away. The action caused both men to pause, gazing at you seriously.

“Are you alright?” Yoongi asked. His face showed no great emotion, but you could see the question that lay in his eyes.

You shook your head pointedly as if to say, No.

At least, not him.

“Yes, sorry. I was lost in my thoughts for a moment there.” You smiled assuredly at Hoseok, hands twisting the fabric of the silk dress you wore. 

“I thank you both for your company today. I’m afraid I don’t feel well and will have to retire to my room for the rest of the afternoon. It’s been a pleasure, really.” You curtsied to both men.

Olivia, never far behind you, curtsied even lower to the prince and his lordship and followed you quietly out the ballroom.

The sky darkened a bit as you left and Yoongi sighed. 

Clouds formed in the previously blue skies, a storm quickly changing the atmosphere of the room.

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

Later that evening, you lay in bed chatting with Raina and Kyla recounting the day’s events as Olivia sat by the window, listening. You didn’t have the energy to change out of the dress but all of that socializing exhausted you.

Eliza slipped into the room. “Your Highness, the prince is calling for you. He wishes for you to meet him on the balcony.”

You stopped mid-sentence. “What balcony?” You asked dumbly.

“The same balcony you found on your first night here,” Eliza replied calmly.

You stared at her for a few moments before flopping back onto your bed. “I’ll be out shortly,” you muttered, slipping on a simple pair of flats. 

Olivia made herself ready to stand up but Eliza waved her down. “He wishes to see Her Highness alone,” she said as she rearranged the sheets you were just laying on.

Raina and Kyla pouted, disappointed that they wouldn’t hear the rest of the story. They acted as if they were even younger than you despite being considerably older. They understood, however, that the wishes of the prince came first in every situation. 

Eliza chastised them for sitting around all day rather than completing their tasks. Olivia smiled, watching them all bicker from the windowsill.

You smiled at the chaotic scene before quietly closing the door, mentally preparing yourself to go back to the balcony.

                            ~~~~~~

You saw the prince before he heard you. Hoseok had his head laid in his arms, peering out at the city of Wysteria. You appeared beside him and he turned, smiling at you.

You found it hard to return.

“I hope you’ve enjoyed today, (Y/N). And your time here in general.” Hoseok began, straightening.

You raised your eyebrows. “You make it sound as if you’re letting me go,” 

His eyes flashed purple and he grinned. “Never. No, I said that because I have been reflecting upon my decisions as your prince, and I admit my actions may have been a bit...hasty.”

You snorted quietly and leaned on the railing. “That’s a bit of an understatement, Your Highness.” 

He stayed quiet. 

You walked to the end of the balcony and placed your arms along the wire rim, turning your head to his. “Yoongi told me about your parents...I’m sorry for your loss.”

He inhaled sharply, turning away from you for a moment. His dangling black coattails whipped around in the wind. “I didn’t want you to know about that,” he said.

You hummed. “Why not?”

“I want you to fear for nothing here,” he said, back still turned to you. “I simply wish to fulfill your dream, our dream of being together...I want you to be happy here. With me, and me alone.”

You stared at the back of his head, wishing you could read his mind. “You hurt me here,” you stated. “All I want to do is go home, but you keep me trapped-”

“That is for your own protection,” he cut you off. “You were behaving rashly by running around the palace. I know you’re a bit of a free spirit, love, but you shouldn’t act as though you want to leave me behind. I know you care for me as much as I care for you.”

You suppressed a groan of frustration. “Hoseok, I barely knew you when you brought me here. I still hardly know you.”

He took your hands, cupping them in his. “(Y/N), you’re the only one that knows the real me.”

Your expression twisted in confusion, but Hoseok was already changing the topic. 

“Nevertheless, I invited you here because I want to apologize for any of my behavior that may have been...off-putting.” He started, leaning his back against the rail.

Ah, yes. Because nearly stabbing my hand with telekinetic powers was simply off-putting.

“Our love is not meant to be like any other, yet we have stood the test of time. I cannot wait to place a crown on your head myself, to watch you become a great ruler to my people.”

You tore your arms off the iron gate of the balcony and stood before him, locking eyes. 

“You’re delusional,” you emphasized.

His eyes flashed purple but you were determined to stand your ground. “I have never seen nor spoken to you before that night on the riverbank.”

“But couldn’t you feel our connection?” He murmured. “I know you felt how powerful my presence was, how strong we were together. What else could it have been but a sign? Who else could have had the strength to summon me to your mortal realm and interact with me?”

“Somebody!” You cried. “Literally anybody!”

“But it was you, wasn’t it?” His voice got softer and softer, like a parent talking their toddler down from a tantrum. “You were the one to speak to me first.  You were the one to make contact first, and you were the one to shake the chimes. No one forced you to participate in the ritual...you must have been searching for something to come out of it.”

“I only did it for Etha!” you protested. 

Hoseok hummed and reached a hand up to pat your head. “I think you did it for yourself,” he concluded. “And I think the only option you have left is to accept your fate.”

His other arm crept around your back until he was hugging you. You tried to push him away, but your arms were trapped between the two of you.

“Our meeting, our love, our fates, they’re all written in the stars.” He rocked you gently side to side as he gazed up into the night sky. Where clouds once dominated, stars took their place and lit the balcony.

He let you go and stepped away, walking back inside the palace. Without looking back, he said, ““We’re going to have a beautiful life here, (Y/N). I suggest you get used to it very quickly. As I said before, I have no intention of letting you leave.”

You were left on the balcony with those cursed stars, regretting every decision you’d made in the past. 

With the news of that cruel reality, you trudged down the palace corridor back to your room, slipped under the sheets, and promptly fell asleep.

                            ~~~~~~~~

Olivia prided herself on her good work for the future King and Queen of Wysteria. Ever since she was little, she dreamed of working for Lord Min and His Highness to help preserve their beautiful land and beautiful country.

She was consistently the highest ranking fairy in her lessons; perfect posture, perfect demeanor. Everything about her was groomed to perfection.

When His Highness assigned her and her friends to the princess, she’d been ecstatic. Sure, she was a bit of a challenge in the beginning, but (Y/N) has improved from her initial hysterical behavior.

Olivia is proud to work for such a determined, self-aware mistress. If only she would put all of that anger and energy to escape towards her lessons and the kingdom’s future.

She knew her insult to Her Highnesses’ birth would not go unnoticed. Sooner or later, the prince would drag her before him and demand answers.

Olivia closed the door to your room with one hand, the other arm occupied by a basket of clothes. She had changed you out of your day gown, as she was sure you’d complain about it in the morning. As her sandals quietly clacked down the corridor, she saw shadows approaching her. 

Two royal guards stepped out of the darkness directly into her path. “Miss Olivia, His Highness requests your presence at his personal library immediately.”

Olivia’s breathing began to increase just slightly. She nodded and clung to the basket a little harder.

They led her to the dreaded library and she gulped, seeing only a sliver of moonlight from underneath the door. One of the guards checked her for weapons and the other took the basket, gently placing it on the floor. With a deep breath, she knocked twice and turned the handle.

“I have arrived at your request, Your Highness.” She curtsied, keeping her eyes glued to the carpet.

The library was dark but moving. In a moment, he appeared.

 “My dear, you know I value your service. You are of the most competent in your generation...I remember how my mother simply adored you and your friends...” 

The prince placed his hand around Olivia’s throat.

“...yet, you have insulted my queen. Your mistress.” He pressed a little tighter and Olivia gasped. “This cannot go unpunished. Do you have anything you wish to say for yourself?”

Olivia could barely get anything out. "Yes, Your Highness. I just want to thank you for your benevolence and generosity.”

He hummed. “Anything else?”

She felt that she shouldn’t, as her mistress felt sure she could handle it, but this was her life at stake. She broke. “Before Your Highness ends my pitiful life, I have something extremely important to tell you.”

The prince continued staring at her, pressing a little harder. “It’s..about..the princess...” Olivia tried to speak, but he had managed to squeeze all the oxygen out of her throat. 

Hoseok’s eyes narrowed the slightest and he released her. Olivia coughed, dropping to her knees.

“Go on.”

Olivia rubbed her neck. “Duchess Roxia is well-known for her knowledge on fae history, and although she has been teaching my mistress everything she needs to know, she has been expressing a variety of anti-human sentiments. She ridicules my mistress nearly every lesson, and for the past couple of weeks, has even ventured so far as to...” 

She faltered. 

“May I remind you that if you obstruct the truth, I will not hesitate to hang you from the gallows.” The prince’s words were as sharp as the knife slowly rising from his desk.

“Duchess Roxia has been physically abusing the princess. She slapped her when she tried to leave a lesson and subdued her with magic. She almost electrocuted my mistress.”

The prince’s eyes danced purple in fury. Olivia knew he was going to erupt, but before he did, she wanted to make sure she was in the clear.

“I’m afraid that’s not all about the Duchess, Your Highness...”

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

The next morning, you were shaken awake by your handmaidens. You tried to insist that you didn’t have classes and didn’t need to get up, but the grim look on their faces told you otherwise. 

Kyla and Raina did their best to keep appearances sunny, giving you breakfast while Olivia and Eliza chose your outfit. They bathed you and dressed you in a silk, royal purple gown. It wasn’t until the dress was on you that you realized it was the exact same shade Hoseok’s eyes turned when he was infuriated.

And for whatever reason, Olivia kept wincing and touching her neck. You tried to ask her if she was okay, or if she wanted a massage, but she turned you down, joking that she was supposed to be the one to offer you such services.

Once you were dressed, your handmaidens led you to the balcony. To your surprise, there was a palanquin resting there, adorned with swirls of black, gold, and silver, with multiple royal guardsmen outside. 

 Not a chime could be heard from below the palace. The city of Wysteria was silent, and it made you shiver.

“What’s going on?” You asked Raina, hoping she would spill. 

She shook her head and gestured towards the palanquin. “Please get in, Your Highness.” 

You gasped. “That thing? It’s tiny!”

After that comment, the expression you saw on Eliza’s face couldn’t have had you rushing to the palanquin sooner. You picked up your skirts and stuffed yourself inside, trying not to feel cramped. The guardsmen pulled the door down and you could feel them lift the palanquin up. 

You gasped, hand scrabbling against the wall. Your knuckle hit something sharp, and you pressed your fingers against a tiny knob. You slid the knob across the wall and it opened a window.

To your shock, you were being carried in midair. You could see Olivia and Eliza flying next to your side of the box, the swirls on their silver wings glistening in the sunlight.

If you peeked your head out a little further, you could see the borders of the city getting closer and closer.

So this is how people have to leave the palace, you noted.

You closed the window and stayed deathly still in the palanquin, afraid that the slightest motion would make you tip over.

About fifteen minutes later, the palanquin landed and the door opened. You hiked up your skirts, hoping the silk was not wrinkled. 

“My first time in the city...is this a gift from the prince or something?” You asked Olivia. Before she could respond, Eliza intervened once more. 

“This way, Your Highness. We are meant to go to the Wysterian Amphitheater.”

The handmaiden’s voice was even chillier than normal. You walked the streets of the city, head craning around the guards to get a view.

The city was gorgeous, filled with apartment buildings and shops. The blocks were lined with trees whose leaves had varying colors; some had red and orange, others had pink and purple, or silver.

 Every tree had a wind chime tied to its branch. They would have been tinkling wonderfully had there been a sort of breeze.

Yet there was no breeze. In fact, there were hardly any citizens, either. The shops were closed, and doors were shut everywhere. The city was empty. 

Everything remained deathly still.

You had so many questions, but you knew that you would get no answers, so you continued to keep quiet.

 Your party had been walking for quite a while when you all approached a large building in the center of the city. It reminded you of the government buildings in the capitol back home; all marble columns and golden plaques with sprawling greenery surrounding the entrance. The main difference is that, behind those doors, you could hear people cheering and yelling. Thus, you were heading into the belly of the amphitheater.

The handmaidens paused before the doors. Eliza gracefully spread her wings and flew upwards, disappearing over the walls of the building. 

“This is the first time the citizens of Wysteria shall see you, Your Highness.” Kyla whispered. “We know how amazing you are, but they do not yet.”

“Just hold your head high!” Raina added.

“Things are about to get ugly,” Olivia muttered.

Eliza returned, landing with both feet on the floor. She turned to you, brushing out your dress and fixing any stray hairs. When she felt satisfied with your appearance, she nodded at the guards.

Two of them stepped forward to open the doors of the amphitheater. You kept Kyla and Raina’s advice in mind, raising your head and squaring back your shoulders.

On the outside, you looked like someone important. Someone composed and dignified. Someone royal.

On the inside, however, you were resisting the urge to scream from nervousness.

As you passed through the doorway, you made yourself acquainted with the citizens of Wysteria. They were, quite literally, every shape, size, and color, just as the Duchess had told you only a few weeks ago.

They were beautiful.

You found yourself forgetting your instructions, looking around in wonder at the fae community. The cries you heard exploding from the arena silenced as your visage became clearer and clearer to the citizens. 

While the outside has resembled a sort of official government building, the inside was most similar to a sports arena back on Earth. There were seats, which the citizens filled, and then there was a separate section.

In the silence, you searched for Hoseok. Your eyes took their time, drinking in every sense they could interpret, before landing on the prince in a sort of skybox, set in the middle of the spectator’s part of the theater. 

The prince stood, and you could see his outfit was meant to match yours in that he wore an all black suit with a purple tie. His coattails still dragged on behind him and his highlights were shimmering in the light of day.

Hoseok unfurled his wings and you had to squint when they caught the light, blasting every color of the rainbow out at the audience.

Even with your eyes partly closed, they were probably the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. 

He didn’t land before you, no. He extended a hand to you as he floated above ground, waiting for you to take it.

“I’m afraid of heights,” you whispered.

Hoseok grinned and placed his hand in yours. In one fell spin, he had you wrapped in his arms, bridal style, as you let out a shriek.

The cheers erupted from the citizens, even louder than before, as Hoseok flew you to the Royals’ seating station. The guards disbanded and went to stand at their respective part of the stadium while Olivia, Eliza, Kyla, and Raina followed you and the prince.

You clung to Hoseok as the two of you flew. “So this is your idea of a first impression? Me cowering in front of the citizens?”

Hoseok smiled, but for some reason, the moment felt sinister. The earlier unease you sensed in front of the amphitheater returned full force. 

It wasn’t until the prince set you down in the skybox that you realized why. 

In the center of the stadium, Duchess Roxia stood on a raised wooden podium. Her usually stoic and professional appearance was in tatters, as she had nothing but a ripped nightgown on to face the crowd. Her dark hair curled down her shoulders. 

You gasped, looking to Hoseok and Yoongi for an explanation. “What’s happening...?”

Yoongi, already a man of few words, said nothing, as he gazed forward with no emotion. 

Hoseok held you like he did in the library that first day, arms around your waist with his chin tucked into your neck. “She’s receiving due punishment, my love. Long overdue, but just.” 

You were sure he meant for his words to be warm but his voice made you freeze out of fear, and you hadn’t even done anything wrong.

The prince held you like that for a few moments more before gently leading you to your seat. As you were placed between him and Yoongi, the situation dawned upon you.

When the prince sat down, a screen appeared, broadcasting the skybox to the citizens. It only showed Hoseok’s face, thank everything, as he motioned for them to quiet down. Then, he began to speak.

“Centuries ago, my parents ruled Wysteria with generosity, clarity, and grace in a manner which I am currently preparing to do so for you, my beloved subjects.” Hoseok spoke, the epitome of cool and composed.

“Nevertheless, as we all know, a rebellion that had been forming in the city chose to execute their diabolical plan to rid the land of its royalty.”

“This insurrection was carried out with the assistance of an insider from the palace...thus it was at the tender age of seventy years that I lost my parents, and so many children here in the city lost theirs as well.”

“While we as a nation have moved on from this horrid tragedy, I, as your prince, kept this traitorous act in mind for years. And along my journey...I fell in love.”

The fae cheered once more, and your face was broadcasted alongside Hoseok’s. You smiled a little, hoping it didn’t look too much like a cringe.

You sat as he spun your abduction into a fantastic tale of love, danger, and triumph. He claimed you were in a precarious situation back on Earth; surrounded by people who posed physical and emotional threats to your safety.

You had just managed to steal a wind chime, as well as directions for communication with other beings, and pledged yourself to Hoseok, who appeared underneath the moonlight on the riverbank, grabbed your hand, and saved you.

As you watched him spout utter lies, you found it harder and harder to smile, the false expression of joy slipping off your face. 

This must have been what he told himself in order to justify his actions.

What a pretty tale he’d woven.

And the fae were eating it out of his hand.

“I introduce to you, citizens of Wysteria, your future queen, (Y/N) (L/N)!”

The crowds clapped for you, shouting and chanting your name. Your face was being broadcasted all over the stadium, but you couldn’t even pretend to smile. 

“I fear my princess has not has it easy,” Hoseok continued and the audience hushed themselves, placing all of their attention on him once more.

 “Ever since her arrival, I hired our dear Duchess Roxia to instruct the princess on our history. (Y/N), completely unfamiliar with our ways, jumped into her lessons wholeheartedly and retained a lot of knowledge.”

“But while under my roof, in my kingdom, in my palace, Duchess Roxia had the gall to mistreat the princess.” The smile was completely gone from the prince’s face now. Warm, brown orbs turned purple and hardened, like gems. 

 “She abused her by constantly expressing anti-human sentiments and using illegal spells on her!”

The crowd roared in disapproval. Your stomach dropped and you whipped around to face Olivia. The handmaiden shrunk in shame. 

“I had no choice,” she mouthed.

“I brought my beloved into my home with the intentions of keeping her safe,” Hoseok growled, glaring at the pathetic figure of Duchess Roxia on the podium, “and someone thought she could harm my princess and get away with it.”

“Someone thought she would be above the law for the second time.”

Silence.

“It was she, the very traitor I scoured the kingdom for, disrupting the peace once again. Threatening the safety and well-being of those that I care for, again.”

You looked at Yoongi, recalling his suspicions from the day before. The dismissal that had brought you so much joy...was because he suspected the Duchess of allowing the insurrection into the palace.

“When His Highness summoned me, I thought to myself, ‘This! This is what I’ve been waiting centuries for! To be welcomed back into the palace-’”

“Thus, it is today, for my parents’ honor, that I bring this criminal before you all to witness the capitol punishment she deserves.” He sat down once more, practically breathing in the violent energy the crowd was emitting.

“Execution.” Yoongi muttered.

You sat back in your seat, gazing at Hoseok’s side profile in shock. You had no idea whether she was guilty or not, but who were you to advocate for your abuser?

Stubborn. Clearly.

“Hoseok,” you murmured, barely audible beneath the crowd’s chanting, “I understand that she killed your parents, but murder? ...Why not imprisonment?”

The prince turned to you, purple irises glowing brightly in the shade of the skybox. “And let the maggot live thinking she can get away with her crimes? For not only touching what’s mine, but punishing you? Not in this century, my love. Nor the next.”

He leaned closer to whisper in your ear, “As a matter of fact, we will be having a very serious discussion about how you kept this from me once we return to the palace.”

You gulped, glaring at Olivia. She looked down in shame.

“The stars have spoken for us all, (Y/N).” He said. “You will not be leaving. They have decreed your fate.”

A manic grin spread across his face. He rose, unfurling his wings to fly out to the center of the arena. 

“The citizens have decided!” He yelled above their clamor. “And so have I.”

Hoseok didn’t even spare Duchess Roxia a glance as he lifted his little finger and flicked it, causing the duchess’ head to roll off her shoulders. 

You screamed, volume matching that of the faes, and buried your head into Yoongi’s shoulder as the citizens grew louder and louder. He and Olivia gently pat your back while your eyes were pried together, replaying the horrid image.

The Wysterian prince, eyes mad in victory, drunk off of the power that rolled in waves from the crowd’s cheers, bowed before his citizens. 

“My queen and I, after our coronation, will rule this country anew. Any threat against us shall meet the same fate as the duchess. I hope you will all walk forwards with us into an era of great prosperity, wealth, and glory!”

The duchess’ body collapsed to the floor of the wooden podium.

Shouts rang in your ears. You lifted your head from Yoongi’s shoulder. He, Eliza, and Olivia were nodding along with Hoseok’s energetic cries of rage.

The audience stamped their feet in carnal joy.

Kyla and Raina had stars in their eyes, glued to Hoseok’s visage.

And you knew all at once, without a doubt, that he had won.

And why wouldn’t he? After all, your fate was written in the stars.

[itsclydebitches]

Hello again! Im the tinfoil hat anon with the long ass asks and I finally had the time to read your response. Thank you, it makes my day reading your answers. I honestly just enjoyed them over a cup of coffee like a good book.

Now, the gun pointing scene I mentioned was in fact the one from the droid fight facility like the other anon suggested. But I really liked that you covered the boat scene too, I haven’t thought of it much myself and now I definitely have!

I also would like to mention I love your “candy bar” choice analogy and I 100% agree Hunter’s “invitation” to join back wasn’t welcoming in the slightest. It is very likely just an obligation as you said. Sort of “you gave us a chance, we owe you a chance too”.

And the problem with it is now I am struggling to figure out how the batch members might change their attitude toward Crosshair going forward, especially Hunter. As of right now Crosshair’s best relationship is not with his brothers but with Omega(as surprising as this is). And I think he does realize now she cared about him the most out of all of them during the short time they interacted(both 1st and last episodes). Even between themselves(not counting Omega) I find most of the bad batch members to be cold and distant to each other. They feel less like a family than Rebels for example. And they aren’t even a “found family”(a trope everyone loves) but an actual one! And I get that they’re soldiers and supposed to be tough, I don’t expect them to share all “the feels”. I just can’t put my finger on it but something feels off. I agree with your previous post, the show doesn’t do a very good job showing or even telling they love each other.

Will Hunter and co only start caring about their brother again only after he leaves the empire?(assuming he does at some point). What about Disney’s prevailing theme and message that “family always love and care for each other no matter what”? I guess it’s “family always love and care for each other but only if you’re good guys making right choices”. There is no room for mistakes or wrong decisions. In the last episode everyone form the batch seemed to have given up on Crosshair(besides Omega). For now their attitude seems to be just “you’re not our enemy” and that’s that.

I realize Crosshair is a “bad guy” and consciously made his choice(and we know it’s the wrong one) but to me it felt like he thought he didn’t even had a choice or rather became so lost and confused he actually thought he chose the empire as “the lesser evil”(as in the less shitty choice out of all the other bad ones). We as audience have the benefit to know exactly how atrocious the empire really is but maybe Crosshair still doesn’t realize that.

So what exactly must Crosshair do to get back “in their good graces” as you say? Start saving “the good guys”? Save the bad batch multiple times? There is a popular opinion on how Crosshair can redeem himself. That he eventually heroically sacrifices himself to save them. I personally REALLY hope it’s NOT what’s going to happen but I heard so many people speculating his story is set up to be redemption=death. I know you mentioned you don’t want “Vader style redemption” either. Personally I think it would be a waste of a character who has a lot of potential. And I just think that the batch kind of don’t really deserve his sacrifice(maybe save for Omega) after how they never tried to save him themselves and how they treated him overall. Maybe he will risk his life to save Omega at some point and that will “prove” to Hunter he cares? Although he has already shown he cares by saving her(even if in Crosshair’s own words it’s just so they’re “even”). And the thing is, he doesn’t need to prove that he loves them, he already did that in episode 15 and made it clear he does care. He actually went to extreme by shooting his squad to prove his loyalty. What were the moments the batch demonstrated they care about him? Hunter saying “you never were our enemy” and taking his unconscious body to safety? To me Hunter “not leaving him behind” during bombardment felt more like guilt about the last time it happened and an obligation to Crosshair for helping them with droids, rather than them showing care. And I kinda of think if that was any random civilian(or anyone other than an enemy or a threat) they would carry them out too just because that’s what good guys do and not because it’s their brother. You also mentioned that minutes later Hunter snaps at him with “if you want to stay here and die, that’s your choice” which I agree can be interpreted in different ways. And I think it’s one more point to it being an obligation that in Hunter’s eyes is fulfilled now. He corrected his mistake of leaving a brother behind and saved him this time, now his guilt won’t burden him any longer.

Anyway, I can’t wait for season 2 and I appreciate you and all the anons sharing the tinfoil hat, interacting and speculating together. Those discussions have been a lot of fun!

TLDR: How do your think the relationship between the brothers will mend or evolve in the next season? Do you think S2 will improve in portraying the batch more as a family rather than a group of mercs doing missions together? What are your thoughts on the popular idea of Crosshair’s redemption by ultimate sacrifice? As in, how likely do you think this scenario is?

Anon, that is just wonderfully hilarious to me. Ah yes, the sunrise, a good cup o' joe, and the overly long character analysis of a snarky, fictional sniper. Exactly what everyone needs in the morning! 😆

You know, TBB is far from the first show I've watched where there's an obvious, emotional conclusion the creator wants the audience to come to—the squad all love each other Very Much—yet that conclusion isn't always well supported by the text. It creates this horribly awkward situation where you're going, "Yes, I'm fully aware of what the show wanted to do, but this reading, arguably, did not end up in the story itself. So what are we talking about here? The intention, or the execution?" It's like Schrödinger's Bad Batch where the group is simultaneously Very Loving and Very Distant depending on how much meta-aspects are influencing your reading: those authorial intentions, understanding of how found family tropes should work, fluff focused fics/fan art that color our understanding of the characters, etc. And, of course, whether someone saw TCW before they watched TBB. I personally wouldn't go quite so far as to say they're "cold" towards one another—with Crosshair as an exception now—but there wasn't the level of bonding among the squad that I expected of a show called The Bad Batch. Especially compared to their arc in TCW. The other night I re-watched the season seven premiere and was struck not just by how much more the squad interacted with each other back then, but how those interactions added depth to their characters too. For example, Crosshair is the mean one, right? He's the one picking fights with the Regs? Well yeah... but it's also Wrecker. While they're trying to decide what to do with Cody injured, Jesse calls out Crosshair on his attitude—"You can't talk to Captain Rex like that!"—and Wrecker's immediate response is, "Says who?" and he hefts Jesse into the air. And then he just holds him there, clearly using his superior strength to do as he pleases, until Hunter (sounding pretty angry) tells him to put Jesse down. If Wrecker had put him into a more classically understood bullying position, like pinning him to the ground, it would probably read as less funny—less "Haha strong clone lifts Jesse up in the air!" and more "Oh shit, strong clone can do whatever the hell he wants to the Regs and few are able to stop him." It's such a quick moment, but it tells us a ton about Wrecker. That he's going to stick up for his brothers, no matter the context (Crosshair deserves to be called out). That he will gleefully assist Crosshair in bothering the Regs (something that is reinforced when he later throws the trays in the mess hall, after Hunter has already deescalated the situation). That he's likely been hurt by awful treatment from the Regs too. That he'll only listen to Hunter when it comes to backing off. Little of this work—that interplay among the squad that shows us new sides to them other than basic things like "Wrecker is the nice, happy brother"—exists in TBB.

Or, at least, little exists after Omega becomes an official member of the squad.

Because, as said previously, she becomes the focus. I don't mean that as a total criticism. As established, I love Omega. But if we're talking about why the squad can feel so distant from each other, I think she's the root cause, simply because the story became all about her relationships with the Batch, rather than the Batch's relationships with each other. Having dived headfirst into reading and writing fic, it occurred to me just how many of the bonding moments we love, the sort of stuff we'll see repeated in fics because we understand that this is where the story's emotional center is, are given to Omega in canon:

Someone is hurt and in need of comfort. Omega's emotional state is the focus + moments like her being worried over Hunter getting shot.

Someone needs to learn a new skill. Echo teaches Omega how to use her bow.

Someone reveals a skill they never knew they had before. Omega is a strategic genius and plays her last game with Hunter.

Someone is in serious danger and in need of rescue. Omega rescues the group from the slavers + is the most vocal about rescuing Hunter. (Which, again, is a pretty sharp contrast to the whole Crosshair situation.) Omega, in turn, needs rescuing from things like the decommission conveyor belt.

Similarly, someone is kidnapped and in need of rescue. Omega is kidnapped twice by bounty hunters and the Batch goes after her.

Someone saves another's life. Omega saves Crosshair from drowning.

Someone does something super sweet for another. Wrecker gives Omega her room. Omega gives Wrecker Lula.

A cute tradition is established between characters. Wrecker has his popcorn-esque candy sharing with Omega.

Someone hurts someone else and has to ask forgiveness. Wrecker is upset about nearly shooting Omega and they have that sweet moment together.

Note that most of these examples could have occurred between other Batch members, but didn't. Someone could have created a space for Echo on the ship too. Wrecker also could have apologized to Tech for choking him, etc. It's not that those moments shouldn't happen with Omega, just that there should be more of a balance across the whole season, especially for a show supposedly focused on the original squad. Additionally, it's not that cute bonding moments between the rest of the Batch don't exist. I love Hunter selling Echo off as a droid. I love Wrecker and Tech bickering while fixing the ship. I love the tug-of-war to save Wrecker from the sea monster. Yes, we do have moments... it's just that comparatively it feels pretty skewed in Omega's direction.

So, as a VERY long-winded way of answering your question, I think we need to fix the above in order to tackle Crosshair's redemption in season two. Now that we've had a full season focused on Omega, we need to strike a better balance among the rest of the squad moving forward. We need to re-established the "obvious" conclusion that the rest of the Batch loves Crosshair and that's done (in part) by establishing their love for one another too. To my mind, both goals go hand-in-hand, especially since you can develop their relationship with Crosshair and their relationships with each other simultaneously. Imagine if instead of just having Wrecker somewhat comically admit that he misses Crosshair (like he's dead and they can't go get him??), he and Tech had a serious conversation about why they can't get him back yet, despite very much wanting to. Imagine if Echo, the one who was rescued against all odds, got to scream at Hunter to go get Crosshair like Omega screamed at them to go back for Hunter. Imagine if we'd gotten more than a tiny arc in TCW to establish the Batch's dynamic with each other, providing a foundation for how they would each react to Crosshair's absence. Instead, what little we've got in TBB about Crosshair's relationship with his brothers is filtered through Omega: Omega's embarrassment that she knocked over Crosshair's case, Omega treating Crosshair's comm link like a toy, Omega's quest to save Hunter that just happened to involve Crosshair along the way.

Obviously, at this point we can't fix how the first season did things, but I think we can start patching over these issues in season two. It would be jarring—we'd still be 100% correct to ask where this "Brothers love you, support you, and will endlessly fight for you" theme was for Crosshair's entire time under the Empire's thumb... but I'd take an about-face into something better than not getting any improvement at all. It is frustrating though, especially for a show that I otherwise really, really enjoyed. For me, the issue isn't so much that the show made a mistake (since no show is perfect), but that the mistake is attached to such a foundational part of the franchise. Not just in terms of "SW is about hope and forgiveness" but the specific relationship most clones have with each other: a willingness to go above and beyond for their brothers. The focus on Omega aside, it's hard to believe in the family dynamic when one member of the family was so quickly and easily dismissed. I couldn't get invested in Hunter's rescue as much as I should have because rather than going, "Yes!! Save your brother!!!" my brain just kept going, "Lol where was this energy for Crosshair?" It messes with your reading of the whole story, so in order to fix that mistake going forward, we need to start seeing the bonds that only sometimes exist in season one. Show the guys expressing love for one another more consistently (in whatever way that might be—as you say, soldiers don't have to be all touchy-feely. Give us more moments like Wrecker supporting his brothers' bad habits) and then extend that to Crosshair. Which brother is going to demand that they fight for him? Which brother is going to acknowledge that they never tried to save him? Which brother is going to question this iffy statement about the chip? In order to buy into the family theme, Omega can't be the only one doing that emotional work.

Ideally, I wouldn't want Crosshair to go out of his way to prove that he's a good guy now. I mean, I obviously want him to stop helping the Empire and such, duh lol, but I'm personally not looking for a bunch of Extra Good Things directed at the Batch as a requirement for forgiveness. Simply because that would reinforce the idea that they're 100% Crosshair's victims, Crosshair is 100% the bad guy, and he's the only one who needs to do any work to fix this situation. Crosshair needs to stop doing bad things (working for Empire). But the Batch needs to start doing good things too (reaching out to him). Especially since Crosshair made a good play already, only to be met with glares and distrust. He saved Omega! And AZI! And none of them cared. So am I (is Crosshair) supposed to believe that saving one of their lives again will result in a different reaction? That doesn't make much sense. And no, his own life wasn't at risk when he did that, but does every antagonist need to die/nearly die to prove they're worth fighting for? As you say, he's already shown that he loves them, far more than they've shown the reverse. Every time Crosshair hurt them (attacking) it was while he was under the chip's influence. In contrast, the group has no "I was being controlled" excuse for when they hurt him (abandonment). Season two needs to acknowledge the Batch's responsibility in all this—and acknowledge that they're all victims of the Empire—in order to figure out an appropriate arc for Crosshair's redemption.

Right now, the issue is not Crosshair loving his brothers, the issue is how Crosshair chooses to express that love: trying to keep them safe and giving them a purpose in life by joining the organization that's clearly going to dominate the galaxy. The only way to fix that, now that his offer has been rejected, is for him to realize that a life on the run from the Empire, together, is a better option for everyone. And the only way for that to happen is for the Batch to seriously offer him a place with them again. They need to make the first move here. They need to fight for him. And yeah, I totally get that a lot of people don't like that because it's not "fair." He's the bad guy. He's with the fascist allegory. He's killed people and has therefore lost any right to compassion and effort from the good guys... but if that's the case, then we just have to accept that (within the story-world, not from a writing perspective) Crosshair is unlikely to ever come back from this. When people reach that kind of low, they rarely pull themselves out on their own. They need other people to help them do that. Help them a lot. But with the exception of Omega's reminder—which Crosshair can't believe due to how everyone else has treated him—they leave him alone and seem to expect him to fix himself first, then he gets their support. It needs to be the other way around. Support is what would allow him to become a good guy again, not "Well, you'll get our love when you're good again, not before." That's unlikely to occur and, as discussed, it doesn't take into account things like this bad guy life being forced on Crosshair at the start. If the story really wanted this to be a matter of ideological differences... then make it about ideological differences. Let Crosshair leave of his own free will, right at the start. Don't enslave him for half the season, have him realize he was abandoned, imply all that brainwashing, give him no realistic way out, and then punish him for not doing the right thing. This isn't a situation where someone went bad for the hell of it—the story isn't asking us to feel compassion for, say, the Admiral—it's a situation where Crosshair was controlled and now can't see a way out. That context allows for the Batch, the good guys, to fight for him without the audience thinking the show is just excusing that behavior. They should have been fighting from the start, but since they didn't, I hope we at least start seeing that in season two.

Ultimately though... I don't really expect all of the above. The more balanced dynamics and having the Batch fight for Crosshair rather than Crosshair going it alone... I wouldn't want to bet any money on us getting it, just because these are things that should have been established in season one and would have been more easy to pull off in season one. (If the Batch wouldn't fight for Crosshair while he was literally under the Empire's control, why would they fight now when he's supposedly acting of his own free will? It's backwards in terms of the emotional effort involved.) But again, it could happen! I'd be very pleased if it did happen, despite the jarring change. I don't want to make it sound like I think they're going to write off Crosshair entirely. Far from it, I think there are too many details like his sad looks for that, to say nothing of Omega's compassion. But the execution of getting him on Team Good Guys again might be preeeetty bumpy. I expect it to revolve around Crosshair's sins and Crosshair's redemption, even if what I would like is balancing that with Crosshair's loss of agency, the Batch's mistakes, and their own redemption towards him.

Honestly though, I just hope that whatever happens happens soon. It's a personal preference, absolutely, but after a season of Crosshair as the antagonist, I'm ready for him to be back with the group, making the Empire (and bounty hunters) the primary enemy. Whether his return happens through a mutual acknowledgement of mistakes, or through Crosshair being depicted as the only one in the wrong who has to do something big to be forgiven... just get him back with the squad lol. Because if the writing isn't going to delve into that nuance, then the longer he remains unforgiven, the longer some of us have to watch a series while going, "Wait, wait, wait, I really don't agree with how you're painting this picture."

[mjalti]

I really love your approach and your "take it or leave it" attitude and I'm hoping you might have some definitive advice to share. I'm in a competitive medical program and Im one of the top students. I use to be way more self confident, but the difficulty and demand of the program is really wearing me thin. Also my unrealistic desire and expectation to be the best. I question every interaction I have, I doubt my approach, I wonder if I'm saying the right thing, I want to perform perfectly. Other sources are just telling me to practice self care and yet that is meaningless to me. I know I'm a resilient and compassionate person who has plenty to be proud of, but I just feel so uncomfortable in my own skin. I have a really supportive partner and a good job, but I feel like nothing I do is good enough (even when my grades and feedback say otherwise) and I use to be a lot happier with my lot in life. How do I settle back into myself?

“I want to perform perfectly.” really sticks out to me, we’ll get into it in a minute.

 i’m not sure if you’re questioning your approach within your field/ your decisions you make within that or if you’re questioning the depth of your knowledge. medicine is an EVER-evolving field and if you are questioning “how much you know” in the grand scheme of things--that is WONDERFUL. that is the mark of you truly understanding the complexity of the field you have the honor of practicing in & it is a trait that you should keep. stay curious. if you are doubting your decisions in the clinical context, always feel free to ask a colleague to glance at your work, just make yourself say “hey would you do anything different on this?” and get a second pair of eyes to look over your train of thought. You are a medical STUDENT, you aren’t competing with the doctors who have 40 years of been-there-done-that experience. You are still in the “going there” phase. Have compassion with yourself & remind yourself that if getting this experience was easy, it would be disrespectful to the people who have dedicated their lives trying to get good at it. 

next i want to remind you; everyone you meet is a series of impressions you have of them, not necessarily reflecting what they’re going through. even the most confident person you will interact with in your field, had a medical student phase where everything was overwhelming, intense, and over their heads. the only difference between them and the others was that they kept going. 

I am really happy to hear that you have a supportive partner. Have you been open to them about what you are going through or do you feel like a burden? It sounds like you have great intentions, but you have allowed this negative thinking to start to isolate you from your partner. You should not be living two lives in your head. [except riding dinosaurs while you’re taking a shower, but that’s understandable, cool and totally normal, i swear.]

“Self care” for high achievers is its own animal because the very things that cause us so much damage are the things which, in controlled portions, we are told bring us success & happiness. It becomes so difficult to put a hard stop on things that burn us out when the positive reinforcement is so loud, so vivid, so all-encompassing. I bring back your statement: “I want to perform perfectly.” To perform is to act, not to be. It seems like you struggle with wanting to be everything for everyone but when it comes to you being your own side, you give yourself the scraps of what’s left from a long day-- and let’s be honest here: it’s usually nothing. 

You seem to be very good at helping others, but how does that translate to helping yourself? 

Start by defining simple things:

when was the last time you felt happy/at peace/confident? 

what were you doing, who were you with, what were you thinking?

what has significantly changed from that time to now? did you move? did you become jaded with a certain aspect? when did you start feeling the way you feel now? could you reach out to your partner for some help with answering these questions, as they could have more insight into your behavior [we observe and analyze the people we love endlessly, we observe the nuance]?

What is something you do for YOU, regardless of how productive it is, how good at it you are, how much other people respect it?

when was the last time you did something new, without it being related to your profession or being prompted by your partner? 

There are so many things going on, there is so much of yourself that you bring to this equation which is hidden from me, that I cannot provide you a solution in a gift-wrapped box but I can hopefully provide some outside perspective. I think you would really benefit from some sessions with a compatible therapist who can help you answer those questions above with some guided exercises. What you are going through is not going to go away like it arrived; spontaneously. You have to have the tools and resources to tell it to leave. I think you owe it to yourself to invest in yourself, to find a way to learn to make sense and peace with the chaos that’s trying to come in between you and your best life. Being proactive about this is the best self-care possible, and even you coming to me anonymously on the internet is a big step in the right direction, especially because it doesn’t sound like this is something you often bring up. 

[hazard-and-friends]

i watched the first episode of canine intervention tonight, here’s some uncensored liveblogging featuring my spicey dog training takes:

“my dog training system is known all over the world" mhmm. lemme google this guy.

by clicking through his in person training site to his online remote training course, i found a whole lot of big red flags: "Establish pack leadership" dogs don't have pack leaders. anyone who wants to make you a leader is not using a good understanding of dog behavior "Time your praise and corrections" the times when i use corrections are when i'm the least on my game. my goal is NEVER to use corrections/positive punishment. why should i? it's concerning that he uses it as a core part of his method. "Exercise and reinforce your leadership as a way of life" more leadership bullshit.

fancy letters are not the end-all-be-all, and there are trainers i seriously respect who have none of them. but they don't talk about leadership and corrections. it's concerning that he talks about his sports team as a kid, where he went to high school, and his celebrity clients, but not his mentors and education in training.

back to the show

why does his facility have enough dogs to keep them in kennels? how does that teach aggressive dogs how to be safe in a home environment?

not all of the dogs in the first shot of a class (~1:38) have two collars on but a lot do. that's not a red flag (i worked sydney in two collars [her flat collar and a martingale, because syd was very gear smart and it was nice to tell her that we were doing heeling now]) but with what i saw on his website? it's quite likely that one of those is the dog's normal flat collar with tags, and the other is a prong, choke chain, or electric collar

also: "I help the dogs that no one else will" is a flat out lie

if you're willing to take on any human aggression cases, generally you’re willing to take on all of them. now, some of these cases may generally lead to a recommendation of euthanasia. but that's in the best interests of the dog and owner

oop class shot where it's clear that they're wearing prongs

here's two points not about this guy specifically: 1) it is hard (impossible?) to do humane, ethical dog training in a 45 minute episode slot. it's not good tv. it's slow as hell. there's no drama. the aggression trainers i know? have never been bitten. many have never been CLOSE to being bitten. no tv value. 2) the positive dog training community is OVERWHELMINGLY white and middle class.

it's also full of racists.

"Nearly a million dogs are euthanized yearly and over 40% of them are pit bulls" i've calculated that first statistic myself, but it's important to put it in context: this is USA specific, and that's down from 3-4 million 20 years ago. the second one, i would love to see his source.

he's right that it's important to understand where aggression comes from

anyway back to those two points, at the same time that it's really, really hard to do compelling TV with ethical dog trainers, it's also really REALLY important that the positive dog training community be working on being anti-racist. and it's really, really important that low income dog owners and people of color are getting good dog training.

alright first case! he's had her 3 months, 3 bites in that time. 10 attempted attacks. she's a young adult bully breed mix who had one front leg amputated after being shot. owner walks her in a muzzle which is a) too small and b) not bite proof.

"I see what we're working with" he says, after approaching a dog in her crate. hazard responds similarly to someone coming in, but he's not a bite risk. that's not a good evaluation.

he is correct about lady macbeth's motivations: this is a dog who's scared as hell and making herself really big and scary so that everyone leaves her alone.

okay he's also right that playing with her around strangers is really, really good for fear aggression

"frenzied just chaotic state" yeah no

reality check for y'all: i am not an aggression specialist and i have seen more freaked out dogs

she was on edge! she was unhappy! but holy shit was she not even remotely close to what dogs are capable of

"she just bit me!" she nipped your cheek, not breaking skin. that's a level 1 or 2 (of 6). that's not NOTHING but it's well within normal for a dog who's being restrained when she wants to be somewhere else.

[note that at no point in the episode was the owner ever given any sort of indication that lady macbeth is not this horribly aggressive Pit Bull TM. nor was there any discussion of a bite scale.]

"The only option we're gonna have is to [board and train] for 3 weeks" "I have no choice but to take her back to my facility back in San Jose and work daily with her" no!!!!!

[15 minute break]

lmao sorry i had to go yell at gf about how much this board and train is not necessary and in the process penny decided to cause Drama again

ANYWAY, the b&t is not necessary because all of those aggressive incidents bar the first could have been avoided if the owner was on the ball. this is not JUST a lady macbeth issue, this is ALSO an owner issue. both of them need to relearn how to handle new people.

as a bonus, lady macbeth needs to learn to trust her owner, which she categorically cannot do in a b&t

"The box is an important training tool to teaching new behaviors. It's also a first step in establishing pack leadership" ok this is new to me

and new is not a good thing here

text: Obedience depends on a dog's trust and respect for their pack leader calculus depends on your trust and respect for your math teacher! if you respect them a lot you will magically be able to do calc!

I WAS HOPING. I WAS TRYING.

i was HOPING that his training for her fear aggression would be based in toy play.

instead he's got a fake arm and he keeps reaching out to poke her, and the owner says "no!" and does a leash pop (leash wrapped around her neck) every time she tries to bite.

"She doesn't know it's not his hand" it smells like plastic what would she THINK it is

also funky that we're 19 minutes into the episode about an aggressive bully breed mix and the trainer's childhood bully breed mix who killed a dog, and like. not a single mention of what these dogs were bred for.

let's go back to "how are you teaching aggressive dogs to live nicely in a home, if they are spending most of the day in a wire kennel"

for shits take, high school doesn't teach you how to handle your emotions! why should obedience class teach your dog the same?

and then like, every time she breaks the down he yells NOPE and leans over her??????

dude you're scaring her into being obedient. while you're talking about how it's important to treat her fear.

text: Fear based aggression can be reduced by desensitizing the dog to strangers you're right! it sure can! THAT'S NOT WHAT YOU'RE DOING HERE

you've got a dog on her side with one hand over her, the other on a skinny check chain on her neck. every time she does anything but lay flat, the leash is popped and you say no. you are flooding this dog and creating learned helplessness.

jo summed it up well with this: he's good at seeing the behavior, he knows what he's looking at, he just can't change it. he only knows one method.

jo and i are now trying to figure out if "dog training but marie kondo not cesar milan" is a viable tv show

jas correctly stops the friend and changes how he approaches the dog, that's a good response

i'm laughing bc after a 3 week board and train which is not going to be less than $4k, he's giving the exact same "how to meet new people" directions that i would give to a similar client--at the start of our time! not at the end!

"I can't imagine imagine a dog having it too much worse than she did, the fact that she took a gunshot, the fact that she had no security for years of her life" alright dude a) think worse, this PALES to abuse cases b) let's not? shittalk? the care that people without reliable housing give to their dogs (and occasional cat!)?? because what they do for their pets is incredible, and it isn't necessarily connected to her opinions on strangers

so yeah still laughing bc like. that "happy ending" would be my first session with a client. that's how you START handling stranger danger. and for this the owner paid thousands.

[tsipasce]

Same Difference Ch.19

“I’ve tried as hard as I physically can-- nothing. I just can’t replicate it.” Nanami let out, frustrated after hours of trying in vain. “Any progress on your end?”

He didn’t meet her gaze, but she could tell by the far-off look in his eyes he wasn’t having much luck either. After running some analysis on their fluid samples from the day before, they found the protein-encased mystery particles from before seemed to be reacting in time with their quirk activation. They surmised it had to be connected to overhaul, but to what end they still weren’t sure. It also wasn’t helpful that whenever they attempted to isolate the particles from the sample fluids, they immediately disintegrated. Nanami felt they were hitting a wall and decided to try something risky. The suggestion had popped into her head an hour or so ago upon reviewing the final footage with Kurono, but hoped they’d figure out an alternative before resorting to testing it out. Sighing, she began, “…I ha—"

“ve an idea.” They spoke simultaneously, though what was a look of apprehension in Nanami’s eyes was one of mischief in Overhaul’s.

Yup, don’t like that.

“Don’t look so worried, we’ll be careful about this, just like last time. I don’t want a repeat of that morning as much as you do.” He said rubbing the back of his head upon remembering how very unpleasant it was cracking his skull and having to anxiously wait by her bedside for days.

“… Fine. But for the record, I do not endorse this, but desperate times…”

“Your apprehension has been noted.” He sighed annoyed, “After you, doctor.”

++++++++++++++++++++

They entered the testing arena followed by Kurono, Rappa and Mimic who were hauling in various plastics from the lab. They placed them neatly against the wall as Nanami took stock of the varying kinds and shapes she had to work with. Overhaul stood nearby taking down the room conditions and making markings on the floor while the last of the plastic was brought in. The pile was large, stretching at least six feet tall. Looking back at him, Nanami confirmed, “You sure about this?”

“Are you questioning him?” Mimic screeched as Nanami’s eyes reflexively rolled the second noise came from his mouth.

“Was I talking to yo—"

“Mimic.” Overhaul chided; his expression bored. Mimic scoffed, folding his arms, but remained silent nonetheless as Overhaul continued, “Yes, I am sure. I trust you.” He replied to her question simply.

If a pin had dropped in that moment, the sound would have been deafening as the three Precepts froze, staring in shock at what they’d heard. Nanami shared in their surprise before promptly looking away, feeling his gaze to be a bit too intense at the declaration. It was common knowledge that the only person he truly trusted was himself, and to state otherwise, in front of an audience no less, was no small matter. There wasn’t a hint of the sarcasm in his voice or features at his reply to her, no air of manipulation. It felt sincere and she was confronted with the possibility that the games had ended, and they’d truly stepped into new territory that sent her heart racing.  A simple ‘yes’ would have sufficed. Nanami thought, annoyed at how easily he got a rise out of her, heat rising to her cheeks.

Satisfied with her reaction, he resumed, his gaze still fixed on her, “Now, if you all value your eyes, you’ll leave us to our work. Or did any of you have something to say?”

“Nope, I’m good.” Rappa replied, turning on his heel and out of the room as the rest of them followed suit, Kurono’s face a bit too smug for Nanami’s liking.

Now alone in the room, Nanami spoke, still refusing to make eye contact, “L-let’s just get started.” She knelt down to the pile, examining it for a beat before transforming it into a large span of padding that covered a quarter of the room, the density thickest towards the center. The plastics made great raw materials for make-shift poly-fil, the padding essentially being a giant pillow to soften the impact she anticipated.

He strode over to her, disposing of his gloves, “We’ve tried a myriad of different ways to recreate the blast from the experiment on our lonesome with… depressing results. By the footage we can confirm that the air is what reacted to our quirk. I say we try again, together this time.”

“It’s gonna be pretty hard since I know we’re supposed to get riled up. It’d be kind of contrived to do it the same way as last time, don’t you think?”

“Agreed, but I don’t think that will be necessary. I’d like to try it as though we’re using overhaul normally, without any significant stressors.” He reasoned before motioning to the lines drawn on the floor as guides, “If we adhere to the diagram, we should be able to perform this with minimal risk.”

She chewed the inside of her mouth before acquiescing, “Alright, let’s line up and on the count of three, we’ll give it a shot.”

Nodding the went to their designated markers, both focusing intently on the target placed on the other side of the room. Standing side-by-side, each extended an arm outward, aiming towards the marker a few yards away. Taking a centering breath, Overhaul began, “One… two… three…”

“…”

“…”

“… Okay, now we just look constipated.” Nanami exasperated, frustrated by their lack of progress.

“Be serious.”

“I am. I just don’t know how this is supposed to work. Obviously, air is matter, but it’s… different. I can’t see it…”

“…But we can feel it.” They looked to each other, sharing a eureka moment. Early on in their research, they discovered what seemed to be a heightened sensitivity in their hands which was unsurprising as they were their primary quirk factors ( Nanami also discovered their feet could serve as secondary factors, but the idea of feet in general grossed Overhaul out so the discovery was promptly archived).

Closing her eyes, Nanami focused on her hands, feeling for every whisp of air that caressed her fingertips as she slowly moved them through the air. She was sure it looked like she was having a very boring acid trip, but ultimately the movements worked to help visualize the air particles to the best of her ability. With renewed vigor, she opened her eyes to see her lab partner doing a similar exercise, though his movements were more akin to lazier version of jazz hands. Stifling a giggle at the sight, she cleared her throat to gain his attention, “Ready to try again?”

“On three.” He confirmed, with a nod, his eyes focused on the target in the distance once more. “One… two… thre—"

The second the last syllable ended, a chain of explosions cascaded across the room, obliterating the target in an instant. The blast sent them careening backwards towards the padding on the wall and across the room and Nanami found herself eternally grateful they’d taken the time to reinforce it. Dizzied by the recoil, she hazily peered in the direction of the target, brushing a stray hair from her face. Blinking her vision into focus, it was clear that the target was gone… As well as the wall behind it… And the wall behind that one as well. Rebar and blocks of concrete fell pathetically from the rim of the gaping hole left behind, though the sound was muffled by the ringing in her right ear.

It worked. Nanami thought awestruck at her quirk. She could acknowledge its usefulness in a general sense, but for whatever reason, this moment reminded her of the sublime, and she felt Herculean for the first time in her life. It became easier for her to imagine how this feeling would leave others drunk with power, the possibility for creation and destruction growing more vast by the day, but her resolve remained unwavering. In the same moment that she was in awe of the destruction, there was a marked guilt at the thought of someone being in the way of a blast like that. Her quirk felt like a cruel metaphor for her life; constantly building to mitigate the equally constant destruction, both of which she was responsible for. I…have really got to stop depressing myself like this. She thought, shaking herself out of the mini-existential crisis.

Readjusting herself on the padding where she landed, there was a warmth on her back, then small, rhythmic breathes. She looked to either side of her to see familiar slack-clad legs caging her in. Connecting the dots, her eyes shot wide, realizing she was sitting in her partner’s lap. Trying to ignore a slew of unprofessional thoughts, she turned carefully, a small part of her hoping he’d been knocked out, simply to avoid any embarrassment. Still a bit sore, she steadied herself, absentmindedly putting a hand on his chest, the other pressing against the padding before looking to his face. Much to her chagrin, he was fully conscious. He gazed down at her with an expression she couldn’t read, though it certainly wasn’t blank. Hyperaware of their positioning she attempted to steady her breath before speaking, feeling the familiar tension between them growing more potent. Move! Say something, do something! Literally anything! Instead her breath hitched as he unsubtly glanced down at her lips before returning to her eyes, the fact that he’d made no efforts to change their position now weighing heavily on her. It was becoming too much for Nanami as it became clearer by the moment what the tension would amount to if left unchecked. The scariest part of it all being that she wouldn’t stop him if he decided to act on whatever ideas were dancing behind those eyes. Panicked by her own willingness, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind, an awestruck look still in her eyes as she appreciated seeing him this close.

“That… was a bigass explosion.”

Truly insightful observation, Dr.Watanabe. Just put that as the title of the research paper: The Methodology and Phenomena of Bigass Explosions. She thought, inwardly rolling her eyes at herself.

She could feel his chest jerk at her comment in a stifled chuckle, his face that of disbelief and amusement, “You’re not wrong… Would you care to join me in getting up and surveying the results? This position isn’t ideal, for labwork that is.” He spoke the last part a bit too suggestively and Nanami was convinced her face would be stuck in a permanent state of blush.

“O-oh yeah, of course! Sorry about that,” She stammered, hopping to her feet before instinctively extending her hand to help him up. She almost immediately remembered how silly the gesture was, but before she could withdraw the palm, he grasped it firmly, accepted the lift. She pulled him up, struggling for a beat as he was heavier than he looked, trying her best to hide a look of shock as he held her hand longer than necessary.

As they surveyed the damage from a distance, there was a glint in his eye, that left her equally excited and concerned. They hadn’t realized it yet, but what appeared to be a breakthrough dragged behind it a deluge of questions they might soon regret asking.

[aleatoryalarmalligator]

Hello tumblr,

Boy, it’s been a moment or two. I haven’t left tumblr by any means really in the last year and a half, but it became less a part of my life when I moved to Portland two years ago and got involved with people and had a social life there for awhile and a love life and now I am 30. I started tumblr at 22. I was so much more naive. I’m sorry to all the folks who wanted to keep reading my life story. I do swear that I will get back to it someday, but even rereading it I see things I left out and perspectives I forced on my audience when I could have left the truth more open. I don’t stand by some of the values I had even two years ago.It’s not bad, but I feel like it needs to be gone over. It’s been suggested by people that I shouldn’t do that, but I have a strong sense that I know what I should do.

I’ve been feeling the weight of time and limitations of health both mental and physical, financial and just the circumstances of living in an environmentally unsustainable late stage capitalism position where I can bank on nothing and so much is up in the air. And I know I’m still young, but not that young anymore. I missed out on a lot in my twenties and I know I won’t get a lot of that back. And I don’t feel like I can plan ahead. I feel very trapped, enormously lonely and isolated. I know it’s eating at me all the time, but I feel like acknowledging it (as I am ironically doing it now), makes It bigger and more painful. But it’s getting to the point where I have nothing to lose.

I’m in a situation where I have troubled friendships. People who love me and I love them but there are several reasons we can’t be close. I look at the way the world is headed and I have this lack of enthusiasm in me because I feel like people are going to get more isolated and more unhappy and feel empty and deterministically realistic about the lack of prospects of what they can look forward to, I feel like everything is getting unstable and worse. And nobody wants to talk about it, to inspect it or even laugh about it. I see growing trends of fascism, a sense of withdrawing in ones self and into technology that everyone I know is guilty of, myself definitely included, the commodification or gentrification of acts of rebellion or individualist acts that one can take to protest the status quo through art or media. There seems to be no valid way to stop the way the world is headed or what people are doing collectively, or ultimately how to even demonize all but a select few. And even them, as shitty as it is to say, the same rules of the universe that created trees also created Jeff Bezos.

I feel like hedonism gets misunderstood. I consider myself to be a hedonist and I’ve been holding out for a future of excitement or sense of euphoria or positive paradigm shift for about a year now. It started when I lost my job last year, and Went through a semi abusive relationship that left me emotionally drained. I feel like after that I kept getting on my horse and falling off two weeks later. It’s gotten to the point where I am afraid to lie to myself when I do have minor breakthroughs that I am even improving.

Poverty also got the best of me. I’ve gone through a series of setback after setback and it’s prevented me from even acquiring the sense of relief or letting go or growth even to take on or form enthusiasm about even making myself happy and there is a despair in me beginning to grow that says this is just the way things are now. It’s like I’m just surviving for no reason. I have nothing to offer anyone. I’m also surrounded by people who are very depressed, probably more unhappy than me in some ways, so I’m not about to get any light at the end of the tunnel talk from a friend. I have no doubt that a strong sense of support would probably make worlds of difference but that’s not in the cards right now. Reaching out in my situation would probably cause other people’s misery or misguided outlook on life to rub off on me further. And for that I unfortunately have to put up my walls because I know myself and the chameleon aspects of my personality and other people’s negative coping mechanisms rub off on me.

And see, like on top of all that, COVID hit and that donked up my plans at maybe getting a new job or meeting new people. All the things I could do to reinforce positive new things into my life became impossible. I shut down after coronavirus happened and fell back on some of my old bad habits, which were reinforced by literally the whole world shutting down. I couldn’t fight it if I wanted to, I was living in isolation and frustration and insecurity and even looking around and worrying about all the people who are worse off than me and will be even worse off once their benefits go away or housing is taken makes me sick to my stomach. I’m afraid I am just gonna have to tread some kind of postmodern Great Depression and give up on living my best life.

Something got messed up with my unemployment and it’s been six months and though I claim every week, I don’t have access to any of that money yet and still have to call people constantly to try to correct it. I have over fifteen thousand dollars that I can’t gain access to. I just lost my food stamp benefits. I work eight hours a week which basically just keeps my phone on, and other than that I’ve been making it on no money. I don’t see eye to eye with my roommates, though it’s not personal and nobody really checks up on me. I wonder why sometimes that I am doing anything. What use is it to hope for things that become more and more impossible? And why tread water when I feel like I have no goal I can aim towards? As soon as I get used to the way things are, something new happens that is out of my control, and I am back to square one. I feel like I am shutting down.

Anyway, I am trying to hold out for something better, but more in a sense that I am trying to maintain something. I do have experience with feeling hopeless and empty from my early and mid twenties, which isn’t good but in a way I know that when I moved to Portland I got a beautiful awakening of a life more realized and full and in some way that was so unexpected that, not to sound super cheesy but, it was kind of a second birth for me, and if I was in the muck before and got out, perhaps I can do it again.

I guess I’m back on tumblr with a little more frequency for that very reason. I’m lonely and lost and trapped. Maybe I will do more writing on here and see where that goes. I feel like I could break things down further and get a better grasp of myself if I wrote more. So maybe I will write on here tomorrow. Meh..Who knows? I feel like if I broke my ideas down into topics I could exemplify something or find a deeper truth in the details.

Lastly, and this is semi unrelated but, I’ve been mutual with some of the people on this site for seven years and it trips me out when the notifications say so-and-so likes your post and its been seven years. I am not gonna lie, it is really cool. It kind of makes me feel like tumblr is still kind of a form of ‘home’ to me.

[makomori]

SIX | CONSIDERATIONS

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI x OC

Nishimura Yua has to take her nephew to his first rep practice with the Tohoku Tigers at Shiratorizawa Academy. Ushijima Wakatoshi is filling in for the assistant coach on said team.

She’s recovering from a nasty breakup and he’s reeling from a stunning finals loss against the Jackals.

Yua’s drawn to his composure and honesty.

Wakatoshi finds her warmth and tenacity intriguing.

It’s the start of a Brand New Story; can they heal from past hurts and endure new challenges in order to help each other trust and love again?

CHAPTERS

ONE | NEW TERRITORY

TWO | FAMILIARITY

THREE | INTRODUCTIONS

FOUR | OBSERVATIONS

FIVE | THE OFFER

Length: 4.1k words

Wakatoshi finally has dinner with his mom after ignoring her for almost a month. Will he make it through the appetizers without getting lectured?

That's the problem with being the strong one. No one offers you a hand.

Wakatoshi knew he was in trouble.

When he called his mom to ask if he could take her out to Fuki Sushi, she answered with a suspiciously cheerful, "Absolutely; I'll meet you at 8 PM on Wednesday."

He hadn't spoken to her in almost a month— not since the day the Adlers lost to the Jackals. The nervousness he felt made the 15-minute drive feel three times longer. When he arrived, she was already comfortably seated in one of the booths. He hesitated. Her dark gray eyes narrowed when she spotted him.

Yeah, he was in trouble.

She sipped on her water while he settled into the booth. Most places weren't built to accommodate someone as tall as he was, but this was one of the few restaurants that wasn't too bad. He could sit without having to fold himself completely in half. His knees didn't bang into the table either. When he finally looked at his mom, her expression was unreadable.

Ushijima Izanami's dark brown hair was set it its usual immaculate bob. The sharp angles of her hair were reflected in her cheekbones, brows, and eyes. Wakatoshi felt like he was in one of her business meetings. She was the current head of the prominent Ushijima household, and a formidable negotiator. He swallowed. There was no use in prolonging the unavoidable.

"Okaa-san," he began cautiously. "It's good to see you."

Her expression remained inscrutable, and he fought the urge to fidget.

She then folded her hands on top of the glossy menu. When she spoke, her tone was clipped. "Is that all you have to say? 'It's good to see you?'"

He opened his mouth to apologize, but she didn't give him a chance to speak. "Mom—"

"You haven't called in a month."

(He thought about telling her that it's been more like three weeks but thought better of it when he saw the warning look in her eyes.)

She lifted one elegant finger and wagged it in his face. "And you've been ignoring my texts." Another finger joined the guilt trip. "Your dad called, too," she huffed. "He was worried."

Guilt wormed its way into his gut. He had spoken to his dad after the finals. However, the disappointment of his performance still weighed heavily on his mind, so their conversation was brief.

"Oto-san called you. Really?"

"Twice last week." She flipped the menu up and scanned over the appetizers. At least she was still talking to him. It would've been worse if she were giving him the Ushijima silent treatment, which started with a hard stare and ended with a demoralizing statement. He had often been accused of dividing people with his honesty, but he learned from the best.

"How is he?"

"He sounded tired. But he did say that his team is one win away from making the playoffs, so I'm sure he's been busy." Her eyes softened as she tried to hide her smile, but Wakatoshi saw it even in the dimmed atmosphere. It seemed like she had enjoyed speaking to her ex-husband. He made sure to file that away for future use.

"I promise to call him." He missed his dad. Looking back on it now, he's one of the few people who would've understood what he was going through. He'd apologize for his selfishness tomorrow. Right now, he had to put his mom at ease.

"Mom?" He pulled the menu away and gripped her hands gently. "I'm sorry."

She returned his gesture with an assuring squeeze. "I know," she sighed. "I was just worried. Both of us were."

Wakatoshi smiled gently. She had a soft heart beneath that tough exterior. "Moms worry a lot."

She quirked a brow at him. "Because they have stubborn sons."

"Where do you think they learn that from?" He pretended to duck when she swiped at him playfully.

"Don't push it, Toshi."

Okaa-san and obaasan were the only ones who called him that, and it was only when they were truly irritated with him. He felt like he was 10 years-old again and being scolded for taking too many candies from the jar, but he didn't mind. He puffed his bottom lip out and looked at her earnestly.

"Oh, stop it," she sniffed. "I can't stay mad when you do that."

Wakatoshi chuckled. At least he knew he could pull that out as a last resort against her. "I still can't believe that works."

"It won't next time," she threatened. The laughter in her voice told them both that wouldn't be the case. After looking over the menu, they called the waiter over and ordered three servings of the assorted sashimi platter. His mom initially fussed and said that it was too much food, but he assured her that he'd eat what she couldn't finish.

"Will you be home until the season starts?" She sounded hopeful; he didn't get to spend much time in Sendai during last year's off season.

"Yes. I won't be moving back to Oita until the end of September." He was on the road often for away games, but even then— Oita was nine hours south by train. When he wanted to visit, he opted to fly since it was only a three-hour trip. "And Saitou-sensei asked me to help coach a local rep team."

Izanami looked at him in surprise. "Coach?" She echoed.

He nodded. The timing worked out almost perfectly. The V.League season started in October and the rep season would be well into the playoff bracket. The schedules would overlap at some point, and the other assistant coach would be able to take care of things if he were away, but he would do his best to accommodate both. The Tigers had the talent to win, so he hoped they'd make it to the end.

"I've always liked Saitou-san," his mom praised. "He complimented Washijou-sensei's style."

"He was certainly the voice of reason among the two of them." Saitou-sensei tempered the Demon Coach's hardline way of teaching. Their combination of tough love and positive reinforcement was proven to produce championship teams.

"I thought you weren't going to think about coaching until the end of your career."

"I thought so as well," he murmured. "But I couldn't say no to sensei." Indeed, many people found it hard to say no to sensei simply because he was so earnest and passionate about whatever task he set his mind to.

Izanami smiled. "You'll be in your thirties before you know it. Thinking about the future is never a bad thing."

Wakatoshi rubbed the back of his neck. Mom was right; he'd be turning twenty-six in August. He'd always known that playing at this level wasn't something he could do indefinitely. Anyone who played professionally only had a small window to maximize their youth and talents before their bodies eventually started to slow down.

"Losing the finals made me consider a few things." His mom didn't force an answer from him when he paused, as she understood that it wasn't always easy for him to express how he was feeling. "I took the loss harder than I had anticipated. I let my team down." He frowned; embarrassment and remorse laced his tone. "That's why I haven't visited. Or answered your messages. I was disappointed in myself. I needed time to understand how I was feeling."

Izanami's heart ached for her son. Even now, expression was contemplative as he rubbed the pad of his right thumb back and forth along the table's polished surface. The Ushijimas were one of the oldest families in Sendai, having been a part of the ruling class during the Edo period. Along with their reputation for philanthropy, they were heavily involved with many businesses within the city.

For better or worse, they were in the public eye.

Over the years, excellence became synonymous with their name. The pressure could be unbearable at times. That's what drew her to Utsui when they first met; he was free from expectations and it showed in the ease with which he carried himself. She hoped that sense of freedom would rub off on herself and their son, but life had different paths in mind for their family.

Neither of them was faultless in the events that led to their eventual divorce, but she regretted that Utsui didn't have the chance to have a say in how his son was raised. Izanami lived with that regret for years, but she slowly began to grasp that the future didn't have to be like the past. When she placed her hand over her son's, and he looked up at her curiously.

"Wakatoshi— any person would be disappointed after a loss like that. You're human. But our family has always been in the public eye. You've had to deal with pressure and expectations from a young age. And eyes are still on you in that career that you've chosen. You've never complained once. You've worked hard and excelled at everything you decided to try. I couldn't have asked for a better son."

A soft smile crinkled the corners of her eyes. She had little trouble raising Wakatoshi; most of his time was spent studying or playing volleyball. When he first started playing, she often wondered what drove him to practice and play so diligently. But she realized that it was his way of staying connected to Utsui. Despite not being present physically, he was still an influential part of their son's life.

Izanami shook her head. "In hindsight, there was no room at home for you to express any frustration; I should have done a better job at providing a space for that. I'm sorry you felt like you had to go through this loss alone."

Wakatoshi couldn't help his bewildered expression. The last thing he expected from his mom was an apology. If anything, he was the one who needed to apologize for his selfish conduct. He couldn't remember the last time mom had spoken with him like this. Her unwavering work ethic and loyalty were things he always admired about her. She was frightening to everyone outside their family. But he had always been aware of her softer side; she loved deeper than anyone he knew.

Another gentle squeeze from her pulled him out of his thoughts. "I'm getting older, too," she teased. "I've had time to consider some things as well. Please, come to me if you feel like that again. I might not be able to fix all your problems, but I'll do what I can to help."

Wakatoshi was silent as he tried to process what she was offering. He needed people like his mom and sensei in his life to help him understand that he wasn't meant to do everything on his own. He learned confidence and discipline from observing and listening to her throughout the years.

When he searched her face, he suddenly saw the fine lines around her eyes and mouth, along with the strength that still shone vibrantly in her eyes. They were a testament to the life she had led. Being a single mom was difficult. People either looked at you with pity or loathing. She shouldered that negativity and protected him from it so he could live his life without having to worry about what everyone else thought. He owed her everything.

"I will mom— thank you."

She gripped his hand firmly and nodded. Those two words were genuine. They had never needed to say too much to each other to come to an understanding. The reality was that they wouldn't get to spend as much time together as they used to. That was part of the reason why she was upset with him not communicating or visiting. He was living his own life and making something of himself in this world, and she couldn't be happier for him. They would just have to be more mindful about making time for each other in the future.

"So, are you enjoying coaching?"

Wakatoshi grinned and nodded. "I wasn't sure if I would be good at it, but the first practice went well. The team is incredibly talented."

"Excellent," she stated. "You sound excited about them. I've always thought that you'd be able to use your instinct when you started coaching."

He tilted his head. That was interesting. "Why do you think that?"

Izanami folded her arms. "You have a unique perspective as a top player. Yes, most coaches are former players, but not all of them played at the level you're at now. You'll be able to connect with your students personally because you've been in their position. But I think you'll also find a way to explain the thought process behind your talent."

Wakatoshi mirrored her and folded his arms. The reasoning behind her explanation was solid. "I've always been told that I'm unnaturally talented at volleyball."

His mom laughed. "That would be an understatement, my dear."

"I think it's a combination of dad's talent and your discipline." He said after a few moments. His eyes warmed and his voice was gentle. "I wouldn't where I am now if it wasn't for the two of you."

Izanami's breath caught in her throat. She felt guilty for so long about the way her marriage ended with Utsui. He loved her enough to marry into a family that was the opposite of who he was as an individual. But in the end, she couldn't protect him from her family's expectations and strictness. She knew Wakatoshi wasn't resentful about not having Utsui in his life, but she still carried that responsibility with her. Hearing him say that they were able to accomplish something positive in his life despite their divorce— that was enough for her to let go of that weight.

"Wakatoshi that's— I've never thought of it that way. You were so happy every time you played with your dad. I knew that you'd do well in volleyball from the start." She rubbed at the corners of her eyes to stop herself from getting too emotional. "And I didn't understand it at the time, but he was correct in protecting your left hand. You were able to stand out and excel because of his decision."

Wakatoshi agreed. Being different had always been his best weapon. "I'm grateful. Not everyone is able to choose a career they love."

"That's very true." She gave him a pointed look before she spoke again. "But please do everything you can to stay healthy. You're not getting any younger."

He was fortunate that he hadn't suffered any serious injuries since he start playing in elementary school. He couldn't bear the thought of sitting on the sidelines. "Always. Injuries mean that I won't be able to play, and that's unacceptable."

"Good. I'm glad we're on the same page. Otherwise I'll start worrying again."

"Worrying is a part of your job," he joked. "But I should've spoken with you sooner. I truly am sorry."

Izanami shook her head and waved him off. "I am, too. We'll be learning more about each other as we go along. But it's good to have you home."

They were starving when the sashimi arrived. Mom helped negotiate a better lease with Fukase-san's landlord, so he always wanted to give her free food whenever she ate there. But she was stubborn and insisted on paying because she wanted to support his restaurant in whatever way she could. It was good he wasn't working tonight because the two of them usually got into an argument over comping her meal.

When Izanami updated him on what was happening with obaasan, he remembered the Boswellia supplements sensei gave to him at the end of practice on Saturday. "Could you give these to obaasan? Sensei said it might help with her arthritis."

She took the pills and stashed them away in her purse. "You need to come to the house and convince her to take her medication consistently." He tried not to laugh at her exasperated tone. "She barely listens to me anymore. And then she complains that everything hurts too much. But I'm sure she'll do anything for her grandson."

Wakatoshi smiled at the image of mom and obaasan clashing over this. She was even more stubborn than her daughter. "In that case, I think these might help." He pulled out two bags of sweet and sour Hi-Chews from his coat pocket. "Tell her it's from me. Maybe then she'll feel better about taking her medicine."

"You have a good heart, Wakatoshi," she said with affection. "That's one of the first things I noticed about your dad. He was always helping people in some way."

During the few times they went out as a family, dad usually ended up helping people carry their groceries or helping older ladies across the street; there was something universally appealing about his kindness.

"He said he never understood how people think you're intimidating or unapproachable," his mom continued. Then she sighed. "But that's an Ushijima trait."

"Yua-san said something similar." The back of his neck warmed when he remembered how shocked he felt when she described him as sweet.

"Yua-san?"

"Our team manager," he clarified. "When I met her last week, she said I was sweet."

Izanami's eyes flickered with curiosity. Any mention of a woman in her son's life was always interesting, especially now that he was older. She hadn't been impressed with his last two girlfriends, and she didn't say that out of spite. They were only interested in Wakatoshi's looks, not who he was as a man.

"Her nephew is one of my students. I helped him understand that losing isn't always a bad thing." Wakatoshi continued, unaware of his mom's protective thoughts. "I've never seen anyone react so positively to something I had to say."

Izanami leaned back against the booth. She liked what she heard so far. "Yua-san is a wise woman. There's always more to a person than what they present on the surface. But not everyone is willing or able to take the time to know someone on that level."

Wakatoshi nodded. "Still— she surprised me. No one has ever described me as sweet."

"Like I said, she sounds wise," Izanami mused. "Unlike that last woman you dated. What was her name again? Aoi-san?"

He nearly groaned. He hoped his ex-girlfriend wouldn't come up during their dinner. Or at all. "I'm surprised you remembered her name. You and obaasan took an instant dislike to her."

His mom rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Well, we weren't wrong. She was only interested in your looks. No wonder you two lasted only lasted three months."

"Okaa-san." He admonished. She was unfazed by his warning and gave a look that dared him to oppose her. "The season was grueling last year. I couldn't give her the attention she deserved."

Izanami leaned forward. He did not just try to justify her actions. "You mean the attention she thought she deserved. You said to me several times you felt that you were the only one contributing to the relationship. I heard you say never heard you say once that she reciprocated your actions."

Wakatoshi stared at her. His mouth gaped slightly when the truth of her words finally hit him. In the end, Aoi only wanted to talk about him when it was beneficial for her. She was only interested in flaunting that he was superstar player in the V.League. The fact that they were constantly travelling for work didn't help either. She was a rising model and had an even more hectic schedule than he did. And when they did finally get together, he was usually tired from training or playing games. She was always rearing to go out while he just wanted to rest.

When he looked back his mom, fury was written on her face, but it dissipated after a few seconds. "Forgive me," she said on an exhale. "You're a grown man now, but you're also my son. It's hard not to get emotional about your relationships."

"I understand," he soothed. "You worry because you love me. You're right. Our relationship was shallow. And it was bound to end with how frantic our schedules were."

"Well," Izanami huffed. "I'm hardly qualified to give you relationship advice considering how things ended up with your dad. But I can sniff out a shameless social climber from a mile away."

"I'll keep that in mind." It was his turn to sigh. "But my schedule doesn't seem to be compatible with dating since I'm on the road often." That was something he was concerned about as well. Depending on how his career went, he could end up playing for volleyball leagues in different countries. His family would have to relocate with him when the time came. Being married to a professional athlete wasn't going to be easy.

"That's not true," his mom said declared. "If you're interested in someone, you'll make time for them. You just haven't found the right woman yet."

Wakatoshi shook his head. "There's also that to consider. I don't know what the right woman looks like." That's not true, either. An image of Yua-san and her bright smile flashed in his mind while the intense feeling of their connection snaked up his arm. He could say with certainty that he hadn't felt this way with Aoi or anyone else.

"All you need to do is look out for one thing."

A knowing smile graced her lips. That usually didn't bode well for him. He was hesitant to ask, but he was also willing to take any advice when it came to this area of his life.

"And what is that?"

"Look out for the woman who becomes more important than volleyball."

Wakatoshi blinked. More important than volleyball? It was a part of who he was. Could it be that easy to find such a woman? He rubbed the back of his neck again. "With the way my life is going right now, I don't think she'll show up anytime soon."

Izanami laughed. Now that the challenge was out in the open, it would be interesting to see how things would turn out. "Be careful what you say, Wakatoshi. The universe just might take you up on that."

An hour later they pulled into the Ushijima ancestral manor's expansive driveway. Nothing had changed since his last visit, and he doubted that anything would. This was his childhood home, but he wasn't sure he wanted to raise his own children here. Anyway, he was getting ahead of himself. He opened the car door for his mom and helped her out.

They chatted comfortably until they reached the front door. Wakatoshi wasn't prepared for the warm, giant hug his mom gave him. She was shorter than Yua-san, so he took care not to crush her when he hugged her back. After pulling away, she straightened the patted down the non-existent wrinkles in his overcoat. He grinned. She would always see him as her little boy in some way.

"Please don't be a stranger to your own mother," she scolded lightly.

He tapped his chin. "I can't make any promises now that I'm a coach. The season is going to be terribly busy."

Izanami raised her brows. "I'm sure Saitou-san would agree that your family takes priority," she said dryly. "And you're lucky obaasan sleeps early now. Otherwise I'd make you come in and say hello. You know she loves telling stories."

Wakatoshi grimaced. "Then I'd be obligated to sleepover."

"You can do that next time," she promised. She slid the front door open and moved to go in but paused and turned to face him again. "You're always welcome to come home. Thank you for dinner. It was lovely."

"It was the least I could do. Oyasumi."

Wakatoshi walked back to his car after he made sure she was inside. The drive this time was peaceful. Okaa-san was right.

It was good to be home.

[capricornus-rex]

Love’s Mischievous Twin (6 - End)

Gif by @daisyridleys

Cal Kestis x Reader

I’ve finally finished it! I had extra fun writing the fight scene while listening to Duel of the Fates song, of course it perfectly fit with the vibe of that scene! Hope you’ve enjoyed the stories and my other stuff, guys. I really love the support you’ve shown. ❤

Summary: The Imperial troops and Inquisitorius threaten to occupy your home planet, a certain someone from the past gets a little too close for comfort for Cal’s taste.

Prompt: Jealous Cal

Legend: [p/n] = planet name; choose your own fave Star Wars planet ;)

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | Masterlist

6 of 6

Cal got separated from you in the chaos but you had to continue fighting; left and right, soldiers came running up to you in need of reinforcement. You worry for him but you knew that was strong, you told yourself that you believe in him. He’ll know what to do.

You aided the faction of Captain Osmos’s second-in-command in the marketplace. Very few troopers were stationed there but they had ones armed with heavy artillery like  flametroopers and Purge Troopers. 

“Hold fast!” You cried out, lightsaber gleaming in the night, a beacon in the midst of devastation.

Meanwhile, Cal joined Captain Osmos and Cere in the plaza. The numbers have thinned in the Imperial side. Death wrought an air of silence as the street was strewn with bodies. Out of the blue, there was a sharp jab in his senses—a disturbance in the Force—you felt it too.

He didn’t bother to confirm it with Cere. He just knew and this prompted him to leave.

“I have to find [y/n]!”

Cal sprinted through the city, retracing the path to your last known location: the marketplace. Between the plaza and the marketplace is the residential area—it was a wide area consisting of several blocks between both public areas. He sped through the streets, feeling you through the Force, and trying to hear your voice in the distance. He gasped for breath with every step he took; each one would bring you closer to him.

“[y/n], I’m coming!”

But something stood in his way: Armus. Fully clad in black like the darkness that consumed him, armed with the electrostaff whose indigo sparks crackled like contained lightning—impatient and wild—and the hazel eyes underneath that curtain of black fringes that were once so gentle to the look were now as furious as the inferno.

“Going somewhere, Jedi?” Armus growled.

Cal did not say a word, his thumb searched for the switch on his hilt and then ignited his lightsaber.

Armus’s smirk was smeared with arrogance and blind confidence when the lightsaber buzzed out the blades from both ends. Cal positioned into a defensive stance. Armus sprang from where he stood, screeching with seething hate, his electrostaff met Cal’s lightsaber, both weapons sizzled and spewed sparks on impact. Armus brought down his weight against Cal, but he was staggered away with the Force and Cal regained his composure again.

Cal and Armus have each other trapped in a dance of blades. The fight has brought them to the small residential square. Surprisingly, Armus was as destructive as he was skilled with the electrostaff. His blows were strong, one wrong move and he might overpower Cal.

“You just had to up and ruin everything, don’t you, redhead?”

“Sorry I stole your thunder… not.”

Cal’s snarky comeback provoked Armus. A flurry of slashes and overhead strikes ensues. He was able to put a dent on Armus’s defenses: getting the right timing to stagger the enemy, breaking Armus’s block with continuous strikes until he fumbles and then a straight-on jab, switching between lightsaber styles to deny Armus an opening to strike.

The duel went on for long and it was exhausting, but Cal isn’t allowing himself to falter—not yet, not now, not ever.

Armus landed another strike but Cal parried it hard just in time.

“You’re so persistent,” Armus chortled wickedly as he staggered. “That’s impressive. I wonder if she is just as strong as I think she is, I can’t wait to see for myself!”

“You’ll have to get through me first!”

Armus continued to flail his electrostaff, he doesn’t seem to be tiring out any time soon, but so is Cal.

“What does she see in you, anyway!?” he spat.

His every taunt rooted from his immense envy. Cal didn’t respond to his verbal taunts. But Armus’s anger blinded him, made him lose the grace that he demonstrated in the earlier moments of the duel. Eventually, he has resorted to brute force and recklessness. He continuously struck Cal’s lightsaber until his defense would break.

One… two… three… four strikes.

After the fifth hit, Armus—now overtaken with derangement—chuckled menacingly, “Don’t bother answering. It doesn’t matter anymore. I’ll deal with her once I’m through with you! I will have my way with her!”

Suddenly, that fueled something within Cal. He Force-pushed Armus away from him to afford a moment to regain himself. Raising his lightsaber to the level of his cheek, the look in his eyes gleamed with determination.

“I won’t let you hurt her!” Cal snarled.

It was Cal’s turn to send a flurry of strikes until Armus could falter, but he pulled away and kicked Cal to the ground.

For a moment, Cal body felt like giving up already—he was exhausted and his body ached, his adrenaline had worn off. He weakly snapped his fingers, signalling BD-1 to toss a stim, but before he could even inject himself, Armus darted toward him and kicked off the stim from his hand.

“No…!” Cal exclaimed even while out of breath, squirming on the ground to reach the stim.

“Aww, so weak and pathetic. I think [y/n] failed to see that,” Armus taunted. “You were so busy pretending to be strong in her eyes. Now look at you—writhing like a worm!”

Armus struck Cal on the leg with the end of his electrostaff, sending thousands of volts forcefully coursing through his weakened body.

“I will have her head and yours rolling at the Inquisitor’s feet!”

“Don’t get too confident, Armus!!”

You entered the duel with a jump attack, Armus blocked it at the last second, completely taking him by surprise. The indigo light from the electricity shone over your face while your eyes flared with an intensity that bested the wild cracks of the staff.

You swung your lightsaber and pushed Armus away from Cal, standing between both of them with the tip of your lightsaber humming threateningly at Armus’s face.

“You’re not laying anything on him ever!” you threatened.

Armus swung back with his electrostaff, he has you exchanging blows and slashes with him this time, he switched to using the electrostaff in a twin-blade mode; dealing with him afforded Cal to reach for the stim and heal himself. When he finally injected himself and let the bacta do its work but it was taking some time before he could actually recover and fight again.

Cal was able to stop an incoming blow from Armus with his Force slow to help you—it was the least he could do. You turned to look at Cal, he was still weak and lying on the ground.

You’ve overpowered Armus in a few things: stamina, speed, skill, and finesse. With the right balance of Force abilities and lightsaber skills, Armus couldn’t pick up the pace, not even with his twin-blade electrostaff.

Finally, you brought Armus to the ground, completely weakened and unable to fight back. You hovered your lightsaber over his nose.

“You’ve lost, Armus,”

Captain Osmos and a handful of his men strode into the scene of your duel, finding Armus lying flat on the ground.

“Take him away,” you commanded.

The squad encircled him, a guard confiscated his electrostaff, and Captain Osmos proceeded to cuff him. You run up to Cal, knelt by his side and shook him lightly on the chest.

You took his hand and placed your fingers on his wrist, feeling for a pulse, you lightly tapped his cheek to wake him up, you press your ear against his chest in search of a heartbeat. There! You felt the slow pounding of his heart.

“Cal? Cal, it’s over… we did it,” you mutter in his ear.

His lids slowly lifted, he blinked until the light in his eyes have adjusted; you were the first thing he sees and he manages a smile.

“Hey,” he softly muttered as he reached for you cheek.

“Hi,” you choked back tears as you happily kiss the palm of his hand.

“You came for me, you saved me,”

“Of course, I did, silly. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I love you…”

“I know,”

BD-1 scampered to Cal’s side, nuzzling on his shoulder, Cal lifts his hand to pat BD’s head and the little droid whistled with great relief.

You helped Cal sit up, supporting his weight with one arm on his back and holding his hand with the other. You let him lean on you while he tries to regain his strength.

Much later, the sun’s rays spill over the roofs of the houses while coloring the edges of the clouds in sunshine gold, at the same time tickling your skin with its mild heat.

Daybreak.

“Good morning,” Cal softly whispered while gazing lovingly at you.

You smiled back, caressing his cheek, “Good morning,”

You and Cal greeted the new morning together with the breeze flying through your hairs and fingers intertwined in a firm clutch. He remained leaning on your shoulder as you nuzzle your cheek on his fine red hair while you watch the sun fill the horizon.

[penguiduck]

The Relationship Between Readers & Writers: Creating Motivation and Appreciation for Readers

Introduction | Part 1: What is this Relationship? | Part 2: Creating Motivation and Appreciation for Readers | Part 3: A Day in the Life of… | Part 4: Creating Motivation and Appreciation for Writers: Perspectives | Part 5: Creating Motivation and Appreciation for Writers: Implementation | Part 6: How to Write the Best Feedback |  Part 7: Where Does This Leave Us?

Last chapter, we discussed the nature of this unique relationship between readers and writers, and the currency that is exchanged between them.  This section is for the writers.  I hope to give you some insight on how to motivate your readers and let them feel appreciated for giving your work the attention it deserves.

As a reminder, currency can be provided in a number of different ways, but I’m going to focus primarily on feedback in this section because I think it is the most feasible and appropriate.

A common theme that I’ve been hearing is that readers can be shy or uncomfortable giving feedback.  This can be due to the nature of an online relationship because reading work anonymously is an option.  It can also be due to a language barrier or general reluctance to engage.  Or perhaps it’s due to a bad experience with leaving feedback in the past in which they were reproached for expressing their honest thoughts.

Writers can’t necessarily help make a reader less shy or remove the language barrier, but they can be approachable and kind.  They can welcome feedback and reward those who offer it.  If a writer is consistently welcoming, it may encourage readers to take a chance and provide much-desired feedback.

In the case of a poor experience, I think it’s especially important to be cognizant and ensure that this does not happen between you and your readers.  I will address the acceptance of criticism and opposing opinions at the end of this section to help reinforce this.

If a relationship between readers and writers is desired, writers have the responsibility of being affable and fostering an environment in which readers can provide honest feedback without fear of confrontation.  Let’s first discuss ways in which we can encourage readers to come forth with feedback.

WHAT DO READERS WANT?

They want good work, writing that can make them feel what they want to feel, whether that’s heartrending angst or tooth-rotting joy.  They want to feel respected should they choose to voice their opinions.  They want to know that writers care about their work and their relationship with readers.

Nothing I’ve said is revolutionary, but I think there are a few things writers can consistently do to stay honest with these ideas:

1. Respond to your readers.  It’s a small gesture, but if they take the time to give you feedback, the least you can do is thank them for it.

Imagine you telling someone, random stranger or not, that you like their new haircut or their shoes, and that compliment falls into an awkward silence.  You probably won’t compliment them anymore because you don’t know if your compliments are welcome.  So if you, as a writer, want more feedback, you need to acknowledge those who are currently providing it.

This doesn’t just apply to comments and reviews.  This applies to emails, Facebook chats, Tumblr asks, etc.  It’s basic manners to acknowledge feedback, no matter how short or simple.

2. Thank your readers.  You can do this comment by comment, but I like to thank my readers by name in each new update.  It lets readers know that I’ve read their feedback and that I’ve not forgotten their kindness, even as I continue to write new chapters.

A sincere thank you goes a long way in expressing that appreciation.

3. Involve your readers.  I think having reader input is instrumental to writing some types of fiction.  For example, I primarily write reader-inserts — anything from straight one-shots in second person to versions of CYOAs and WWYFFs — and sometimes my readers say things in the comments that make me pensive.

Ask readers questions.  If you’re not sure about a certain writing style, theme, or idea, just ask them.  I tend to do this at the end of every chaptered piece of fiction that I publish because it’s an opportunity to gather reader input and make myself a better writer for my audience.  An honest desire to improve is a very welcome prospect for readers — it shows that you care about their thoughts and opinions.

4. Do things for your readers to show your appreciation.  You’re a writer — I assume you like writing.  Write for your readers.

You can do this by hosting raffles or opening requests. As an example, I host a raffle every month for my readers called An Expression of Thanks. Those who leave comments on my works are eligible, and the winner of this raffle receives a written one-shot.  When the events of COVID-19 first started, I opened a request booklet called A Single Word. to help readers cope with the global pandemic. You can hold raffles for any occasion and any conditions. 

Celebrate your accomplishments to thank your readers for sticking with you.  Did you get to a certain amount of kudos on AO3? Hit chapter 100 for one of your fics? Did you just reach an anniversary for posting on a specific site? 

These are all incredible accomplishments for you, but where would you be without your loyal readers?  Raffle off one-shots, art, beta-reading services, even gift cards or other items of sentimental value. Donate to a cause on behalf of your readers. Get creative!   

5. Update consistently and complete your works, if possible.  You certainly don’t have to spend every waking moment writing.  Self-care is important, after all, but no one needs me to tell you that readers appreciate quality writing and updates to their favorite stories. 

Do whatever you need to do to nurture your love for writing, and don’t let yourself burn out.  But don’t forget that there are readers waiting on the edge of their seats for an update, and by providing a new chapter or new piece, you could very well make their day.

ADDRESSING CRITICISM AND CONTRARY OPINIONS

I’d like to dedicate some time to criticism and how to approach it.  To level-set, allow me to define what I mean by criticism.  I am not referring to outright rude, trolling, or hateful comments.  These are of a different category and should be dealt with in another manner — they should be ignored and reported to an administrator.  For the purpose of this essay, I am specifically addressing well-intentioned feedback that is of a critical nature or a contrary opinion.

First, please realize tone is often lost in informal writing online.  It can be hard to hear when someone is being sarcastic or gentle or sheepish.  Start by believing that your readers have the best of intentions and give them the benefit of the doubt.  They’re not trying to ruin your day.

Understand that feedback is a gift, even if it’s critical.  Someone took precious time out of their day to tell you something about your writing.  They don’t have to do that, but they care enough to provide you this information.  Accept it, and thank them for their effort, even if you don’t agree.

Accepting criticism is not always easy — to be candid, not all criticism is fair.  It’s entirely possible that readers can misinterpret your meaning or, simply, be wrong.  Nevertheless, it’s vital that you remain gracious and kind.  You don’t have to agree with the criticism.  The nature of writing and art is subjectivity — some people like A, and some people like B.  That’s okay. 

What’s important is that you foster an environment in which these differences in opinion are accepted and appreciated.

Still don’t like critical feedback?

You can ask your readers to not provide any.  I’m sure they’ll kindly oblige.  However, I advise against this because if you want to grow as a writer, you need to learn to accept criticism, and even apply it to your craft.

J. K. Rowling’s Harry Potter pitch was rejected 12 times before she found success.  Stephen King’s Carrie was rejected by 30 publishers.  Madeleine L’Engle’s A Wrinkle in Time was rejected 26 times before finally finding a publisher who would accept it.

My point is that these are incredibly popular books, best-selling and well-loved by a huge portion of the world population, and even they were faced with rejection by those with varying opinions.

My advice is to grow a thicker skin.  Don’t let criticism crumble your confidence.  You’re still learning as a writer, refining and polishing your craft as you continue your journey.  Even published authors had to walk this same path — and are still walking this path.

There will always be opinions that contradict yours.  Oftentimes, they won’t be right or wrong — they’re just opinions.

You have freedom of speech, not freedom from speech.  You can write whatever you’d like; people can say whatever they want to say about it.  By posting your work online, you are opening yourself up to the possibility of criticism.  

It’s a fact.  Let it be.

I loathe what I call “care bear culture.”  While I think it’s important to be polite and thoughtful when rendering opinions, writers should not be offended by or shield themselves from innocuous, well-intentioned comments.  This exposure and acceptance of criticism is a fundamental piece of learning and becoming a better writer.  If you reject constructive criticism and limit your exposure of opinions to those that agree with your own, you reject personal growth.

People are allowed to have opinions.  They are allowed to think that A is better than B or X is superior to Y; and if you’re a supporter of B or Y, you have the right to respectfully defend your position.  But do not disregard a polite comment or piece of feedback simply because it is contrary to what you have done or prefer.

Do not allow opposing opinions to break your creative spirit.  Diversity of thought is incredibly important and powerful.  If you dissuade your readers from providing this type of feedback, you may not get any feedback at all.

Some of the most useful feedback I’ve ever received was uncomfortable for me to read and hurtful to apply to my craft.  It’s not easy looking at your writing with a critical eye because what you’ve put on paper is part of you.  How can you criticize yourself and your work?

There is a piece of writing advice out there: Kill your darlings.  Sometimes your readers can give you incredible perspective on who or what your darlings are.

Allow yourself to be uncomfortable.  Embrace that discussion.  You will be a better writer for it.

In the meantime, be gracious and kind when receiving criticism.  As I mentioned earlier, you don’t have to agree with the criticism, but take it to heart.  Consider it.  If you focus too much on why it’s said and not what is said, then you’re going to struggle with accepting criticism.

Allow yourself to be a better writer.  You deserve that opportunity.

This is also posted on AO3.

[stillinaincrad]

The NineSpot: Anime I Really Liked with Sequels I Really Didn’t

Am not calling any of these the worst sequels of all time or likewise calling any of the originals the best ever by any stretch of anyone’s imagination, but these are sequels to anime series I fell in love with and didn’t really care at all for what came next. (am not considering OVAs or movies based on entire shows, btw, because they both almost always suck compared to entire seasons anime)

1. Is It Wrong to Try to Pick Up Girls in a Dungeon? (Dungeon ni Deai wo Motomeru no wa Machigatteiru Darou ka)

The original DanMachi series was proof-positive that predictable and cliché can still yield a really great tale when the directing and production is top notch. Everything that should have made it lackluster couldn’t outweigh the feels and I always end up smiling earlobe to earlobe. The characters are beyond well crafted, and it is still crystalline-clear that this project was someone’s pride and joy. I adore the original series. The Sword Oratorio spinoff was -meh- to me, it leaned too much on the original for hooks as it tried to fill in Ais’ backstory and ended up being more about Lefiya anyways (plus they blatantly stole the marquee anthem from Last of the Mohicans, which turns me off a thousand times every time it plays now). Oratorio provided some levity, but did nothing at all to advance the story. Then we got DanMachi 2, which started out with mediocre writing but a killer arc and the backbone surfaced for some amazing story depth to amass, but all we got in the end was the horribly lame Ishtar arc where a depressed fox girl doesn’t want to be a prostitute and Bell feels bad about it. I’ve felt exactly nothing for these characters since the original.

2. Overlord

Take a peruse through my blog and you will see that I have never campaigned for a second season of anything more than I did Overlord. I LOVE the first season, it is an absolute favorite of mine, and being that it is yet another Madhouse anime I honestly never expected more but always clamored for it because Overlord was absolutely deserving. When we finally got S2, it threw me for a loop because the original cast barely appears in the first four episodes, but then I found my feet and eventually got myself into the new episodes. Ironically, that is about all that this second season had to offer to me. The lizardmen arc is fantastic, definitely watch it, but when that ends? Here’s about all you need to know: Sebas has a softer side, Climb is a little bitch. There you go, onto season 3 (which is fantastic, btw). 

3. Full Metal Panic

FMP is one of my favorite old-school anime ever, because it balances great humor, great characters, and - despite a shload of filler in the second half - a great all-around story. It is SUCH a gem. Second Raid was a tad bumpy due to a new studio, but still fantastic, and Fumoffu was the comedic break that an already goofball of an anime conjured up and it totally fit as long as no one took it too seriously. Then, some 15yrs later out of nowhere we get Invisible Victory, which Xebec used to completely rewrite everything, and not in a good way. From go, Kyouka - an important supporting character from the outset - is killed and totally glossed over like it wasn’t significant asf, and I got pissed. Then all the already-established characters took on totally new personalities of grave seriousness, which was never the brand. When you take previously established characters who have always been hopeful, energetic, and buoyant to a fault, always looking forward and up - and suddenly make all of them overtly dramatic, hardened, and inordinately austere across the board, it totally cheapens the original and to an extent that superflous doesen't even begin to describe. Massive franchise fail, Xebec - dishonor on you, dishonor on your cow. Easily the sequel I have hated the most. As in, ever. 

4. Sword Art Online

Look, I am the last person you need to tell how much bad this series has divulged into. I was so all-in on the concept, the characters, the drama, and the love of the original series. Do you think it’s ironic that I’ve been doing this almost 5yrs now and haven’t changed my URL? I’ve always said that if the first Matrix movie were left alone and that was it - Neo giving that threat and then flying off into the credits and we have to make up the reality that may or may not have transpired after that -  that it would be in the top 10 movies ever made. That’s how I see the first arc of SAO. It was THAT good, I have somehow watched it more than anything ever made. I originally considered the whole second half of the first season to be filler and am always turned off at the molestation that it celebrates, but said it was ‘for the story’. Then the Sterben shiz happened and I said ‘yes, it’s the EXACT SAME STORY  but it’s going somewhere’, and then it did, to somewhere absolutely worse. I made it about halfway through Alicization and I up and quit altogether. SAO is such a shit franchise - the only thing that has gotten worse than the animation is the writing, the characters that used to be great are so incredibly shallow and annoying now, and I have made more fun of something I used to love than anyone. I am the first to admit I am a huge heel for most of what I have said in support of it in the past. But omg those first 14 episodes. I can’t label the initial tale of SAO as anything but amazing. And if those 14 episodes were the only episodes we ever got, I would easily call it one of the best anime ever made.

5. Date a Live

I almost have to laugh that I am about to mention Date a Live after that. DAL was never going to be confused with a good anime, but it was fun. It was silly and rampant and insane, but you still fell in love with the characters because they were totally and completely worth falling in love with. Then DAL2 happened, and I hate this season a little too much. It was released too soon, it was done too poorly, it was just every kind of measurable cringe. The only thing worse than the writing was the lackadaisical and pedestrian voice acting, and that’s saying a lot considering how intern-worthy the animation of the second season was. DAL3 redeems itself plenty, the characters become likeable again, and there is an actual story and it isn’t awful and harkens back to seeds planted that were never developed, and at least part of the budget was dedicated to better artwork. But wow - DAL2 is just pure hot garbage.

6. A Certain Magical Index (Toaru Majutsu no Index)

The first two seasons of both Raildex series have casts I'd pretty much take on an entire den of Wendol with a soup spoon to protect. They're just that good, so I was beyond excited when a third Index season was announced. I've never read the source material, so maybe some were ready for it more than I was, but Index III started off TOTALLY different - the blood and brutality is turned up past 10, everybody up and turned into an a-hole about everything, and it all felt very foreign to me compared to everything before it. But, I stayed in because I was still invested in the characters and wanted to see where it all went. It eventually reminded me a lot of the good 'ol days of anime where it wasn't always happy, where sometimes even the good guys made you feel bad, and where there was a fairly complex storyline that you really had to pay attention to if you wanted to keep up. The difference is, a lot of those shows were good. Index III just... was. I got nothing out of choking my way through the entire season, and really didn't care about anything but finishing it long before I ever did. I still feel a bit betrayed that this was the anime that fans waited 8 years for. 

7. Eureka 7 Ao

No need for any exposé. Screencap says it all. How you follow up one of the most epic mecha anime ever with this fail of a series is beyond me. Great music, absolutely abysmal writing. 

8. Infinite Stratos

Was Infinite Stratos good? Original, yes. Fun, yes, Characters that made you care about them, yes. But good? BWAHAHAHA NO, it absolutely was not good. IS is one of a handful of titles I chuckle about saying I enjoyed, because it's quite bad. Which is how you know IS2 is total dregs, because it's so very bad that it makes the first season look kinda decent. There was a story worth developing in place in the second season, they just chose to go full potato on the harem and fanservice elements instead, and decided that the writing didn't really matter. The ensuing episodes are for the most part just too much stupid to watch. 

9. Blood Blockade Battlefront (Kekkai Sensen)

A bit of an odd duck, Kekkai Sensen introduced us to a world of enigmatic and strange bedfellows traversing a totally bonkers landscape of a world that somehow all manages to come together as a collective yaaas in the end. There is a unity that develops between them which task by wacky task binds these otherwise incongruent personalities together towards a common goal, and interpersonal gold eventually develops between them. The strengths of the individual are blended like watercolor to reinforce the weaknesses of the individual within the resulting eccentric genus. A cliché but nonetheless robust red string of fate ties all the loose ends together and a fantastic actuality of cognizance materializes between the ragtag cast and the forces that amass against them, and the first season ends with a feel-good that no one could have ever seen coming. It really is a great ride. Then the second season happens, and the glue that holds it all together feathers and ‘stuff just happens’. I was disappointed that all that great writing and plot that intertwines in the first season is totally absent in the second, and in the end it becomes just tales. I wanted so much more and got barfly stories regaled secondhand. 

[mymelodyheart]

Starting Over Chapter 22 ~The Tale of the Night Part One~

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!  

Claire's heart started to beat a little faster as their hired Bentley slowly inched closer to the Hilton Hotel Glasgow. They were following a long line of fancy cars waiting for their turn to pull up, step out and parade themselves. She felt Jamie's gentle squeeze on her hand, but it didn't help quash the feeling of apprehension. She'd promised Jamie to stand by him but seeing the throngs of excited fans and reporters behind the installed barriers, made her want to curl up in a fetal position and not leave the car.

"Sassenach, are ye alright?"

Huh?  She turned and looked at him and saw the worried lines etched on his face. She gave him a feeble smile. "I'm fine," she lied, trying to convince herself as well as him. "I know events like this draw crowds ... it's just that I didn't realise it would be as crazy as this. I-it's one thing seeing it on TV or pictures, but this ..." She leans forward and waves a hand, the frenzy screams and shouts, giving her jitters. "There's a bloody mob out there. It's insane!"

Jamie gently drew her sideways against him, tucking her in under his arm. "Some people from the movie industry will be there too, that's why. Events like this like to invite big names to attract the media. And Prince Harry will be making an appearance as well, most probably to promote the Invictus Games."

"Invictus wot?" she asked absentmindedly, her attention fixated on the excited crowd outside.

"It's a paralympic-style sporting event for injured military servicemen and women. It's a foundation launched by Prince Harry," he explained, following her gaze.

Only half-listening, Claire closed her eyes and tried to breathe normally, focusing on Jamie's hand on her arms. It helped a bit to soothe her nerves. For a split second of weakness, she thought of suggesting to let her slip into the back entrance and meet him inside the hotel lobby after his pap-walk but remembered her promise to stand by him tonight and dropped the idea. "Does this get any easier for you?" Claire asked, glad for the darkened windows that hid them from the flashing camera lights.

"What? This?" He puffed out his cheeks and blew out air. "No. The public looks like the giant scary monster, but truthfully, I dinnae mind the fans. The problem is the media. The media isnae journalism as ye know it anymore. They turn everything into a bloody circus show."

She shuddered, remembering her indirect first-hand experience with the reporters and how they've made her looked like the cheating fiancée and Frank, the virtuous, pillar of the society, who could do no wrong. "Tell me about it," she whispered.

"Stations and news will gobble up anything - the more sensational the story, the better, anything for the ratings. Ratings are everything. Ratings mean money and lots of it. Perhaps it really is just a matter of time before they're funding the nefarious for the consumption of the people. There's nae more moral compass, only the most immoral become the victors in this industry, and so on. Morality is for losers, winners are the ones who "pushed the envelope." He looked at her, and she didn't miss the subtle change in his demeanour. "As I told ye before, the tabloids will feed the public some shite by publishing pictures, and when it's captured at a right angle, it could be taken in any context ye want. The news' outlets delight on that because the fans can make up their own stories and they write articles based on their speculations."

"Has it ever happened to you?"

"What? Speculations? Aye. Many times. With my reputation, I'm fodder for other celebrities' publicist, especially when movies or projects need to be promoted. I tend to get used for that end. I'm not saying my reputation was a made-up lie. I'm not proud of it, but I own my shit. The problem with this industry is when ye want to use their platform or be part of it, be prepared to whore yersel' literally or figuratively." He lets out a short laugh. "Thanks to them and the publicity stunts, I've increased my followings on social media, which of course, opened other avenues such us modelling for big-name products even if I've never done that line of work before. The upside - it made me loads of money."

"So, you reckon the network will want something from you?"

"Aye, most probably. But ye'll have yer say in it, Sassenach. This is nae longer just about me," Jamie's mouth pressed into a determined line. "This concerns ye too."

"But, this job means the world to ye, Jamie."

He twisted around to face her, and his hand stroke her cheek. "Dreams and priorities change over time, Sassenach. Ye come first now because I'll need someone who will hold on to my soul in that crazy world out there. But I'm warning ye. If ye agree to let me take on the job, there'll be a lot of things ye'll not like and perhaps disappointments. Whatever happens tonight, I'll need ye to trust me in this. Ye dae trust me, aye?"

Claire squeezed his hand. "Yes, of course, I trust you." She nervously glanced through the windshield and saw there was only one car left in front of them before it was their turn to get off. "I meant to go over things with you, Jamie. What do you need from me out there?"

His face softened. "Just be yourself and smile. Ye dinnae need to answer questions from the press if ye dinnae feel like it. If ye do though, dinnae reveal anything personal and give them an arsenal for future use." He leaned in and gave her a kiss. "And thank ye for being here with me. It means a lot."

She nodded and smiled weakly, still dazed from the surreality of the upcoming moment when they would step out as a couple. It was quite apparent they were both not looking forward to going out there, and for Claire, it was one hell of a circus show to go through just for a presenting job.

"Ye sure ye'll be okay?" Jamie asked. "There's still time to turn around if ye wish. There'll be nae hiding once we step out." His tone was guarded and tinged with concern. "I ken I asked ye to stand by me. But I can go out there by myself, present the award, listen to what the network has to say and if I dinnae like it, I'll leave, and we can enjoy Glasgow for the rest of the evening."

The suggestion was too tempting, and it would be an easy way out. But Jamie could lose out on his dream job because he would choose her. She didn't want that. Claire turned and saw him looking at her thoughtfully, earnestly waiting for an answer, as the ghost of past heartache resurrected in her head. When James Fraser loved, it was scary. The man put his entire heart out with the expectation that it would be crushed. Sometimes she worried at the way he looked at her and at the way she felt for him. It seemed too precious and too rare to explore knowing if it didn't work out between them, the heartache would be greater. If she ever lost this man, she would never recover. If he ever lost her, she feared for the man that he would become. She could only hope that their relationship would survive Jamie's new career.

Swallowing the odd lump in her throat, she gave him her best smile and summoned the courage. If he's willing to sacrifice his dreams, she was prepared to at least try and take this on too before he gave it up altogether. "Hey I'm a big girl, remember. I can tough this one out," she whispered, attempting to sound cheerful.

His handsome face lit up. Grinning, he leaned in for a final kiss before grabbing the handle of the car's door. "Weel, let's do this then, Sassenach.".

..........

Ah, bloody hell, here goes nothing!  

Claire inhaled deeply and took Jamie's hand as she stepped out of the car. She felt like entering into another realm as she was greeted by frantic screaming, knowing it had more to do with Jamie's appearance than her stepping out. It was very loud, more than she'd imagined it would be with a crowd such as this, and the deafening noise was reinforced more by all the shouting, cheering, camera flashes, instructions yelled out by photographers at celebrities, and security and ushers barking orders.

"Jamie! Jamie!"

"We love ye, Jamie!"

"Jamie, please sign this!

"Jamie! This way, please!

"Jamieee, selfie please."

Jamie's hand tightened and tugged her forward, her eyes blinking and squinting against the flashing of bulbs and set of lights beaming down on them. He leaned down to say something, but she couldn't hear over the screams of hysterical fans. Although she'd been a fan of Jamie for years, she couldn't understand the over-the-top hero-worship and grown women shrieking whenever Jamie smiled, winked or waved. People crying and all these hysteria for a retired rugby player was simply just beyond her.  Heaven forbid Jamie ends up becoming an actor. Unbelievable!

Jamie led her to the top end where the broadcast outlets were, namely BBC, ITV as well as UKSC, the network Jamie might one day work for. He subtly reminded her when to stop and where to look as the photographers furiously took their pictures. His eyes were on her the whole time, a knowing upturn tugging his lips and his hand always pulling her against him. He kissed her for the cameras as if it was his way of announcing she was his, and although Jamie ignored requests from the journalists to introduce her, she obliged them, despite herself, by smiling for their lenses instead. Claire was surprised not one of the photographers had recognised her as the infamous  Runaway Bride . She hoped her unknown status would remain for the rest of the evening, but she knew reporters were like a dog with a bone and it was only a matter of time before they caught on.

"Hey, Jamie, who's the pretty lady with ye?"

"Can we have a name, please?"

"The dress is gorgeous. Who designed it?"

"Jamie, a quick interview, please?"

"Sorry ye lot, time for us to go in," he deflected, pretending to look disheartened while putting one hand dramatically over his chest and another, tugging her elbow and leading her away from the crowd and into the double doors of the hotel. 

What a charmer!   Despite Jamie loathing the media, he had a way with the reporters, whether they were women or men. Not once he showed a hint of annoyance even if she could feel it pulsing from his aura. He was evasive when people asked questions but somehow managed to get away with it with a smile or a wink, lending them a sense of mystery. Maybe Jamie was born for this. He did everything with ease and was full of self-confidence in front of the watchful eyes of the public. Whereas, her, she felt like she was caught up in a current, whirled and tossed in every direction. Her face hurt from endless smiling, hand numbed from Jamie's constant hard grip and her feet already throbbed from the ridiculously high stilettos. She hoped Jamie's charms would be enough to tide her over when the media finally finds out who she was.

One hurdle down, a million more to go!  Once they made it through the hotel's lobby, her first thought was to grab a flute of champagne from a passing waiter, but Jamie kept walking and steered her through groups of people, nodding and acknowledging with a smile those who glance their way. 

"It wasnae so bad, was it?" Jamie murmured against her ear as they positioned themselves at the least populous area of the lobby. "Ye look so beautiful tonight, and everyone thinks so too. Ye've captivated the press and the fans." He took a couple of champagne from a passing blonde waitress who was beaming up at him, but he didn't notice the awed gaze.

"Captivated? More like inquisitive," she replied, taking a huge gulp from the bubbly Jamie gave her and scanning the crowd. "The press is probably running my picture through some facial recognition software as we speak. I hope with the amount of makeup Geillis plied on my face, they'll fail at their attempt."

"That's not how facial recognition software work, Sassenach. The app distinguishes a person based on the person's features and shape."

"I was afraid you were going to say that. Let's just hope the software they're using is crap or dated."

Jamie laughed, taking a step closer in her direction "Dinna fash. Sometimes media exposure can work to yer benefit."

Claire looked up and saw the amusement in his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Weel, for one, Frank will surely leave ye alone now. He wouldnae want to jeopardise his career in case ye talk to the press. I'm presuming he'd be thinking, ye've been considerably unpredictable ever since ye jumped out of the church's window. Controlling people don't like unaccounted for surprises. And ye're likely to do something spontaneous."

"I guess you have a point ..." She sipped her drink and quickly changed the subject. "What happens now?" she asked, watching the elite and sports' celebrities rub shoulders together, exchange air-kisses and posed for the cameras with subdued interest.

Claire had never seen so much pretentiousness in one room, and she'd mingled often enough in Frank's circle to make that distinction. The need to impress was so palpable in the air when, in actual fact, almost every individual present was talented and gifted in their own way. It was too showy and flashy for an event that was supposed to be all about honouring sportsmanship and sports in general. The only thing that seemed genuine was the designer clothes they're wearing and their expensive perfumes wafting through the air. It seemed like the long tentacles of the world of celebrities have crept into the world of sports, blinding them with glitz and glamour. It was definitely not a scene she could get used to, and she felt, Jamie couldn't either no matter how much self-confidence he exuded and wanted the job.

"We're just waiting for Forbes," Jamie explained. "I told him I'd meet him here and he's supposed to update me on his talks with the network." 

"Forbes is your agent, right?"

"Aye. And speaking of the devil, he appears." Jamie gestured toward the tall, blonde and handsome man in a dark blue business suit, walking confidently through groups of celebrities. "Showtime," he whispered, shifting on his feet.

She downed her champagne in two mouthfuls and watched Forbes stopped and shook hands with Andy Murray, Scotland's professional tennis player. It was apparent Jamie's agent knew a lot of famous people and appeared comfortable around them as he greeted and addressed a few more.

"Jamie!" Forbes strode towards them in a way a famous person might. His smile Hollywoodesque as he shook Jamie's hand. He was younger than Claire thought, midway through his thirties and almost as tall as Jamie. "Sorry to keep you waiting," Forbes apologised. "Got held up in the office and then stuck in the traffic."

Jamie nodded. "Nae bother. We haven't been here for too long." He put an arm possessively across her shoulders and pulled her in. "Forbes, this is Claire, my girlfriend." Forbes took her hand and kissed it, smiling over it when she blushed. She felt Jamie stiffened, indicative of his lack of credence towards his agent. 

"Call me Gerald. Forbes is my surname. I'm a long time friend and confidante of Jamie. I'm surprised he hasn't introduced you sooner, but I've seen you in the papers. Have to say you caused quite a stir in Edinburgh, and the pictures that were published haven't done you any justice at all. You're even more beautiful in person." He dipped his head as if his next words were meant only for her ears. "Jamie's reputation precedes him. As we all know, he has a keen eye for beautiful women."

Claire swallowed and yanked her hand back. "A keen eye for beautiful women, you say?" She glanced up at Jamie before looking at Forbes squarely in the eyes. "Too bad it doesn't extend to his instinctual perception on human nature. Jamie is too trusting for his own good."

Taken off guard by her reply, Forbes stared at her for a few seconds, trying to gauge her meaning. When she didn't smile, he was left with no other choice but to give out a fake laugh that was so over-the-top and loud, a few people glanced their way. Jamie disguised his choke with a cough.

"That's sports agents for ye," Jamie remarked, squeezing her shoulder. "Cannae live with 'em ..."

"Can't sign a deal worth a damn without them," Forbes added, plastering his toothpaste advert smile back on his face and dragging his attention away from her. "Well, Jamie, shall we go somewhere private and talk business?"

"No. We can talk here," Jamie said smoothly, releasing Claire to grab more glasses of bubblies from a passing waiter. "It's simple, really," he started, passing a glass to her and then to Forbes. "It's either the network and I are on the same page or not. So which is it?"

The mega-watt smile on Forbes dimmed, as he cast a quick glance at Claire before looking back at Jamie again. "I reasoned with the directors, and they've invited both of you at their table for further talks."

"And?"

Forbes tugged at his tie. "They still want you to do a pap photo with Geneva tonight. And it would be wise if we told the press Claire is your PA in case her identity leaks out."

"I'll do a promotional photo with Geneva if that's what they want," Jamie said firmly. "As for Claire's identity, the press or some random fan has probably already figured it out who she is. The fans aren't stupid." 

"Fine, so what if they've figured it out," Forbes sighed, lifting a hand in the air. "Just release a statement saying Claire's working as your PA while she's out of a job or something. Or a close friend who came with you as your plus one for tonight. Or just say nothing at all, and I'll release a statement to the press for you."

Noticing the tension between the two men, Claire placed a hand on Jamie's arm. "Shall I leave you both alone. I'll be just right over there," Claire intervened. She knew how important this job was for Jamie, and she was more than willing to remain hidden from the public if that's what it took.

"No," Jamie replied, grabbing her hand, in case she did walk away. "Please stay." He gave her a pleading look. She couldn't say no, so she simply nodded hoping they would come to some kind of resolution. Satisfied she wasn't going anywhere, Jamie turned his attention once more back to Forbes. "You will not release any statement on my behalf, and I will not discuss my personal life to the press. I've never had, and I'm not about to start now. Anyone who's got eyes knows Claire is with me and hundreds of pictures have already been taken when we arrived. The only thing I am willing to talk to the press about is my work."

"Jamie, there won't be any work if the directors found out you are with the  Runaway Bride  and even more so if the word gets out," Forbes argued impatiently. "We can make those pictures disappear, and nobody has to know about Claire. And it's for her own good too."

Claire tried not to flinch, but both men noticed. Forbes gave her an apologetic look and Jamie squeezed her hand.

"The directors said they specifically wanted that?" Jamie asked in disbelief.

Forbes sighed. "They want an unattached Jamie."

"And yet, they want me to parade myself with Geneva? That doesn't make any sense at all," Jamie countered.

"Look there's something I need to tell you about Geneva. And you can't tell another soul ..." Forbes paused and eyed Claire.

Jamie noticed Forbe's hesitation. "Claire won't say a word. She's a doctor and has a duty of confidentiality to her patients. So this won't be any different," Jamie reassured his agent.

Forbes nodded and lowered his voice. "There are rumours within the IOC that Geneva used performance-enhancing drugs during the Commonwealth Games and Beijing World Championships and she may be consequently be stripped off her medals ..."

"And how is that my problem?" Jamie challenged.

"Well, this is where you come in. You know that Geneva's dad, William, is one of the directors of the network, right?" When Jamie nodded, Forbes resumed. "The IOC isn't the problem, and the majority of the committee can be bought, but it won't stop the rumours circulating. So daddy dearest wants to paint a nice picture of Geneva for the public by giving her a few stints on the sports network. They want you both to host the London World Championship during rugby off-season. Her exposure will unveil her to the public as a clean-living athlete, and so when the rumours grow its head, the public will dismiss it as mere gossip. And also, they want the public to perceive you both as a couple. There'll be no need for you to announce you both are. A few pap photos here and there and the fans will do the talking. You're the ideal person for the partnership with Geneva because well, you know ... you were well-known for your discipline in rugby. No drugs, no alcohol, five times best player of the year, Scotland's national treasure and all that shit. Get my drift?"

"And why me?" Jamie asked warily. "Surely, there are other candidates with the same background in sports as I have, a better reputation and could talk comfortably and eloquently in front of the camera. I can think of five on top of my head, and they're all living nearer to London."

Forbes shook his head as if he couldn't comprehend why Jamie still hadn't understood yet. "You come from an old family, Jamie. A family with a solid background, good reputation and the public is more forgiving with your past indiscretions compared to your peers. And that alone carries a lot of weight in William Dunsany's eyes."

Jamie gave a burst of short mirthless laughter. "And here I thought I was being considered for the job because they saw a potential in me." He shook his head in disbelief and slapped Forbes on the shoulder. "Sorry mate, thanks but no thanks."

"Jamie! We're talking about a million-pound contract here and a place in the network for two years. That's an incredible amount of money for someone who doesn't have experience in mass media. No one is asking you to break up with Claire. Just keep things between the two of you under wraps. That's not difficult, is it?"

"Aye, it is! Have ye lived under the watchful eye of the press? Claire will be living with me. How am I suppose to keep our relationship under wraps? The answer is no. I'm not putting Claire under that pressure."

"William Dunsany is desperate. Maybe I can arrange a better deal for you," Forbes offered.

Jamie arched an eyebrow. "Why is he desperate?"

"William Dunsany is about to be bestowed a knighthood by the Queen, and he can't afford any scandal or gossip tainting his family name. He thinks Geneva being linked to you would shift the focus away from the rumours."

"Sorry, Forbes. It's one thing piling this whole shite on me but ..."

Forbes raised both his hands and gestured to both of them. "Talk about it, the two of you. And I'll go and talk to Dunsany and get you a better deal. I'll give you both half an hour to decide." And then he turned and strode away before either of them could say a word.

Jamie took Claire's glass and set it on the nearby table and faced her. "Do ye want to talk about this, Sassenach?"

"I think we should," she whispered.

Without another word, Jamie took Claire by the elbow and led them to an empty conference room. Once alone and away from the crowd, they sat on a nearby table facing each other.

Claire spoke first. "Jamie, I totally get it. The money doesn't mean anything to you, and I know you love me, and I also know you're willing to walk away from all of this because of me, but ..."

"Sassenach ..."

"No, Jamie, hear me out first, please," she insisted, wringing her hands as she searched for the right words. "You're here because you want to be part of that sport you love so much and want to start your own rugby academy with the money you'll earn. I know we talked about this in the car before we got here, but I don't want to be the reason for giving up your dreams. I can't live with that. When two people love one another, they nurture and support each other. I want you to do this thing in London and build your academy."

He smiled and took her hands from across the table. "Sassenach, I appreciate what ye're saying but it doesnae matter. Besides, I get the feeling ye dinnae like London much and the whole palaver with the paparazzi, and I cannae do it on my own if ye decide to send me away. I'd miss ye terribly."

It was true what Jamie said. She hated London, but she'd also hate it if she didn't get to see him every day and see where their relationship go. Maybe this was a test and opportunities like this only come once in a lifetime. Of course, they could make their own opportunities, but more often than not they are sprung on you like a dare to test your skills, to see if you could take that leap of faith to make whatever it was a success. To continue to be dictated by fear, an excellent opportunity might slip away. Frank already took away so much by inspiring self-doubt in her, and she didn't want to be afraid anymore. She needed to take that leap first, for the sake of both of them. And although Claire didn't like the idea that William Dunsany could get a knighthood from her life-changing decision, Claire had a feeling Geneva was being manipulated by her father. She wanted to be beside Jamie to make sure it wouldn't happen to him and at the same time reach out to Geneva and help her.

Confident she made the right decision, she stood up, walked over to him and sat on his lap. Linking her arms together around Jamie's neck, she planted a kiss on his lips and smiled. "What if I said I want to come to London with you, would that change your mind?"