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beardedjoel · 1 year ago

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sugar rush

joel miller x f!reader

event masterlist prompt: your desperate neighbor, joel miller, runs out of candy for the trick-or-treaters and comes to you. it turns out you've both been keeping a secret from each other; 4.7k words warnings: mostly cute fluff and pining, makeout sesh, they stay flirting, joel miller is a gentleman *saluting emoji* a/n: loved writing a fluffy little piece for my ppcu darlings for this event, happy halloween and i hope everyone enjoys all the fics we've been writing for you all!

The last thing you’d wanted was to do something extravagant for Halloween this year. You watched friends planning to go out to parties, ones with kids plotting all their family costumes. But what you really want is a peaceful night in, passing out candy and eating popcorn with a scary movie in the background, spending time in your own cozy cocoon. Work has been relentless the last few months, stressful and draining, and you’re happy to just relax with candy stolen from your candy bowl for the trick-or-treaters.

The first hour of little ones comes and goes, all of their costumes more adorable than the last, getting a chance to quickly catch up with some of your neighbors as they pass through. It’s just the evening you wanted, you convince yourself once again as you listen carefully to your popcorn in the microwave to make sure you don’t overcook it.

You feel a twinge deep inside, maybe some kind of loneliness hitting you while you feel the emptiness of your home pressing in on your heart. You’d not been having the best luck with dating recently, you knew that, and refused to believe the real reason was that there was someone you were interested in, but didn’t have the heart to pursue it. So instead, you had spent the better part of this week persuading yourself you were happy to spend the holiday by yourself, to get this much needed alone time.

You silently thank the universe when your doorbell rings again, bringing you out of your thought train that was heading towards a swift derailing into depression. You put on a smile before whipping the door open, expecting another group of kids dressed to the nines. Instead, your eyes flick up from child height to your neighbor, Joel Miller. He’s standing in a faded black band t-shirt that’s hugging his biceps, and when you finally pull your eyes to his face, it’s adorned with a shy little smile on his lips. His hair looks like he’s been running his fingers through it a few too many times today, tousled and sticking up, and his tan skin looks somehow stunning in the shitty light of your porch. How he manages to look this good all the time baffles you.

“Joel? Um, hey,” you stutter out awkwardly, hoping he can’t see that your cheeks now feel like they’re burning as they always do when you meet his intense, chocolatey gaze. “Here to trick or treat? I’m not sure what your costume is, though.”

Joel chuckles, his face lighting up and you feel your insides warm at the fact that you made him laugh. “Wish I was, but no. I actually, er…” He rubs the back of his neck nervously. “I ran out of candy, was hopin’ I could…” he says, the last part more quiet, half hoping you didn’t hear his embarrassing confession.

“Oh, y-you need some?” you reply, fidgeting your fingers in front of you. You glance over at your candy bowl, still over half full - you tend to go overboard on most things, and this was no exception. Anxiety had taken over you in the grocery store aisles and made you a different person, filling your cart with way more candy than accounted for kids in your neighborhood.

“I figured, y’know, think I might know ya best around here, and well, your light was on. The McCarthy’s don’t seem to be participatin’ this year.”

You have a flurry of emotions - amusement at Joel’s predicament, excitement that he’d chosen to come to you, and absolute screaming, jumping up and down joy that he’d thought he knew you the best of all his neighbors. The outside of you nowhere near matches the inside as you just give him a sweet, reserved smile.

“Those cranky bastards,” you say with a chuckle that Joel reciprocates. “Well, come on in, you can have some of mine. It’s kind of slowed down the last little while, though. But feel free to take whatever you need. Lord knows I don’t need this much leftover candy in my house tomorrow.”

“I’d kinda like to see you runnin’ around your lawn with a sugar rush, though,” Joel teases as he steps inside and you close the door behind him. Your brows raise slightly in surprise - Joel seems in an uncommonly great mood tonight. Not that he’s unkind, by any means, he’s just not typically the most chipper person you’ve ever met.

“Not so funny when I crash and pass out and you have to drag me back inside,” you quip back to him, and his smile goes a little crooked, which sets your heart jumping inside your chest. You’d been harboring a bit of a crush - okay, more than a crush, you admit to yourself - on your neighbor for a while now, too afraid to say anything about it, or even flirt too forwardly most of the time for fear of rejection. You figured he was just a nice guy, and you had helped each other out in a pinch a few times, attended a few of the same barbecues, or waved as you passed by. You’d fallen more quickly for his gorgeous little accent and rugged looks than you’d cared to admit to yourself, and these feelings didn’t seem to be going anywhere any time soon. You’d even started to wonder lately if the reason your dating life hadn’t been the most lively and successful was that you were still holding out hope that maybe, just maybe, Joel felt the same way about you.

“Might be kinda a good look for me - neighborhood hero an’ all, savin’ you,” he says, his smile growing a bit.

You roll your eyes playfully, feigning hurt. “And at my expense? That’s cold, Joel Miller.”

Joel laughs and holds up a small bag he’d brought over, hoping to take home his spoils. He’s filling it when the doorbell rings another time, and you start a little, so caught up in watching his broad, muscled form moving. You rush over to open it to a few small kids standing outside, not over the age of eight or so, all screaming TRICK OR TREAT! You laugh heartily and greet them all, gushing about how perfect their costumes are. You hold out your bowl of candy to them, letting them choose what they’d like and they all giggle at your compliments and little jokes.

Joel has stopped to stare, enamored with your sweetness in this moment, how good you are with the kids. Hell, Sarah is much older than these three little ones, but he’d seen how good you are with her, too. She seems to adore you, asking after you any time it’s been a while since she’s seen you. Joel’s lips tug up into a smile, just now noticing how cute your Halloween pajamas are - black bottoms with little jack-o-lantern’s printed all over them and a black tank top. Now that he was noticing, he tries not to bite his lip when he sees just how tight the tank top is, how well it hugs your body as it slides up along your back a little when you bend down towards the kids’ level.

You wave your goodbye and turn back to Joel, face glowing from the big grin you’d put on for the kids.

“So cute, right?” you say, hiking a thumb over your shoulder towards the front door.

“Miss that age,” Joel murmurs before he can stop himself. He promised himself he wouldn’t wallow too much tonight, and here he was telling the first person who had the misfortune of talking to him. Sarah chose to do a sleepover at a friend's house tonight, the first Halloween she was spending that didn’t involve Joel. Sure, they’d done the pumpkin patch and carved them after, apple picking with Sarah fulfilling her promise to bake Joel an apple crisp, and watched some of their favorite scary movies together. It still hurt that his little girl was Trick or Treating in another neighborhood without him tonight, maybe one of her last ones ever as she neared those teenage years.

“S-sorry, didn’t mean -” Joel starts, cutting himself off from the deep thoughts he’d tumbled into.

“No, hey, it’s okay. Sarah’s got plans tonight, I take it?” you ask, sincerity and compassion sparking in your eyes. Joel finds himself dangerously close to falling into those two pools, your sweet soul shining through as you look at him.

“Mhm,” Joel replies, scratching a hand through his beard. “She uh, wanted to do somethin’ at a friends’. Don’t blame her, just… y’know, one of those things.”

You give Joel a sympathetic half-smile, letting out a sigh. “I’m sorry, Joel. That is tough. I’ll bet she’s feeling a bit sad about it too, even if she’s having fun.”

“Better miss her old man at least a little bit,” Joel replies, trying to lighten the mood.

“Old man? I don’t see any old men in here,” you say, gazing around the room with a fake curiosity, your brow furrowed. Joel spits out a laugh and shakes his head.

“Too kind, darlin’. For that, and the candy.” He holds up the bag full of candy and starts towards the door. Your heart lurches every time he throws out one of his Southern little pet names, and you have to forcibly keep your face neutral as you bask in it. “Well, uh, thanks. I owe you,” Joel finally says.

You pull your bottom lip into your mouth and worry with it as Joel’s hand seems to inch towards the door in slow motion.

“W-wait,” you say, before you’ve even realized the word has left your mouth. “I was watching a movie - would you want to, um, stay and watch with me? Pass out candy together?”

Joel blinks a few times, and you feel your stomach sink, until he breaks out in a sheepish smile, his cheeks flushing a bit.

“I’d like that, yeah.”

“Oh,” you nearly start, mostly having expected him to say no for some reason. Maybe you just haven’t accepted the fact that Joel does seem to enjoy your company as much as you do his. “Great,” you flash a smile, gesturing over to the couch. You walk over and sit down, and Joel follows closely behind, peering around at your setup.

“Popcorn ready and everythin’,” Joel comments with an impressed whistle, settling onto the couch next to you, the distance between you enough that you’re hoping you can stay focused on the movie. His warmth radiates though, his broad shoulders looking so damn big, fuck, on your couch and his legs spread open as he relaxes back a bit. You try to make your shaky exhale as discreet as possible before grabbing the popcorn bowl from the table and plopping it between the two of you.

“What are we watchin’, then?”

“Killer Lake 3. oOooh,” you tell him, wiggling your fingers in an attempt to make it sound creepier, but Joel just laughs and shakes his head at you, running his fingers over tired eyelids.

“Ain’t seen that one yet, makes me kinda nervous, that uh, whole series,” he admits, and you kind of like the idea of knowing something small and intimate about him, something vulnerable.

“Me too,” you admit, holding back a chuckle, your hand over your mouth.

Joel sits forward, shooting you an incredulous look. “And yet you were watchin’ this… all alone in your house?”

“It’s called living on the edge, or something,” you reply with a laugh. “Besides, not alone anymore, am I? I’ve got a victim to suffer with me.”

Joel huffs and crosses his arms. “Just play the damn thing before I can chicken out.” He settles back again, but you can feel the tension radiating off of him as he never fully relaxes, his body taut while he keeps his arms tucked into each other. You find yourself hoping that at least part of the reason he seems tense is he’s just as nervous as you are to be sitting so close on the couch together, able to feel the heat of each other’s bodies, the scent of the other person permeating the space. You try not to breathe in too noticeably when you catch the smell of him - musky, a little outdoorsy, and something else a little less like his natural scent, an aftershave or deodorant. It’s all equally intoxicating, you think to yourself, trying not to let your brain become too muddled by it.

The doorbell rings several times while you two are watching, each time you and Joel pause the movie to coo over the little trick or treaters together. You feel your heart flutter at the thought of those who don’t know you two, who would think you’re just any other couple living together. Your insides are nearly bursting at the thought, not realizing just how badly you’d wanted that with Joel, this sweet domesticity. Now that it was within your reach, a little taste of it playing over in your mind, you don’t know how to go back to how things were before this night.

The movie still isn’t finished when 8:30 hits, but you get up to turn the porch light off, signaling the end of the trick or treaters for the night. Joel stands up awkwardly in your living room, hands fiddling in front of his belly. He clears his throat and glances at the carpeting before he looks back up to you.

“Love to stay, and finish the movie off, if that’s alright,” Joel offers before you can even say anything, and you nod eagerly. “Couldn't leave you all alone with this scary shit now.”

“My hero,” you tease, calling back to your earlier conversation. You clasp your hands over your heart with a grin, and Joel chuckles, rubbing his neck.

When you two sit back down, you start to realize that every time you've gotten up from the couch to give out candy and sat back down, you and Joel have gotten a little more comfortable, bodies less rigid and tense, able to sit a little bit closer to each other. You realize you’ve barely been paying attention as the movie plays again when Joel makes a sound at something happening on the screen, so you try to focus so he can’t tell just how affected you are by his presence or how lost in thought you are.

“S-shit,” Joel calls out, jumping a bit in his seat, clutching his chest with one hand. The other one flies over to your thigh, where he holds on for dear life, squeezing you there. He quickly pulls it off, before you can even fully register it, trying at the last second to memorize the feeling but coming up short, too stunned to even believe that it really happened. Joel seems to tear his gaze from the movie, both of his hands clutched in his lap, fiddling nervously.

“I’m - uh, I’m sorry ‘bout that. Just got me jumpin’, didn’t mean to, well…” Joel stutters out, gesturing to your leg. You’re sure if the room was more light, you’d see a flush creeping over his cheeks. He can’t believe he’s embarrassed himself in front of one of the most beautiful girls he’s ever known, one he’s sure is completely out of his league. It hasn’t stopped him from being excited to see you every time he’s had the pleasure of getting to have a conversation with you or simply see you pass by his house on a walk or run. He’s in deep, he knows it, and now he may have just ruined his chance to reveal his feelings to you the right way.

“Oh,” you say plainly. “It’s totally fine, I nearly did the same thing,” you say with a chuckle, trying to laugh it off.

You feel the skin on your thigh buzz beneath your pants where his hand had been for that brief second though, and your heart doesn’t seem to be interested in calming down its incessant thundering. You want more, you want to feel his hand back right where it was, the strength of his arm slung around your shoulder, his touch nearly anywhere on your body. You’ve never been alone with Joel this long and it’s starting to get to you, sending your mind reeling.

That brief touch suddenly has you gathering up your courage, so you turn your body to face Joel a little better and breathe in deeply.

Now or never.

Your heart thuds harder and your stomach tightens into knots, but you strengthen your resolve and square your body a little, trying to give yourself a false confidence.

“Actually…” you say, clearing your throat quietly. Joel’s attention quickly snaps from the television back to your face, and you nearly lose any semblance of bravery at his gaze locked so firmly on yours. “I didn’t mind, at all. If you wanted to do that again, or anything like that, uh, maybe,” you tell him, cursing yourself for stumbling on your words, for making it sound so unsexy to ask him to put his hand on your thigh.

You pull your lips inward and press them together, sure that your widened eyes are giving away the complete terror you feel as you await his reply. It feels like years creep by of his face looking completely taken aback until you see the corner of his mouth twitch up, his eyes starting to go a little softer with a twinkle in them.

“What, like, uh,” Joel clears his own throat now. “Like this?”

His hand slides over from his lap, much slower and intentional this time, landing on your thigh, right above your knee. It feels like heaven - his grip firm and protective but also soft and caring at the same time. His fingers flex a little, giving away his nervousness before he settles on a few errant rubs of his thumb.

“Yeah” You give him a toothy smile. “Like that.”

“Wouldn’t mind one bit if you wanted to hold onto me, an’ all that. Since the movie’s so scary, ‘course,” Joel says, sounding more bashful than you’ve ever heard him with his voice lowered.

You feel yourself smiling wider and wider, your face nearly feeling like it’s going to crack soon with the excitement you feel. Joel’s own heart is fluttering more than it has in ages and he wills it to calm down before he gets too excited about his crush, for Christ’s sake, simply cuddling with him.

“Of course, since the movie’s so scary,” you tease, biting your lip anxiously. You tentatively scoot closer to Joel, pressing your thighs flush with his as you curl up on the couch, tucking your feet up next to you on the opposite side. You bring your hand up to his bicep, wrapping it around the muscle before gingerly laying your head onto his shoulder. Every movement feels a little stiff at first, testing these new and exciting waters with each other.

Joel lets out a quiet hum of satisfaction, one he’s not sure that you heard until you sigh lightly in response and his heart leaps along with yours, the two of you tensely holding one another. Joel feels you start to relax first, your attention half back on the movie, and he takes the initiative to let go of some of his own tension, letting his hand wander a bit more on your thigh.

By the end of the movie, you and Joel are entwined together, his arm slung behind your shoulders, your hands clasped together and palms sweaty from the intensity of the film and being so close to each other. You’ve migrated onto the top of Joel’s chest, resting your head there. Joel thinks he’s died and gone to heaven as he keeps getting delicious whiffs of your shampoo at that angle - a scent he tries to burn into his memory for when this evening inevitably ends.

When the credits start to roll, neither of you move, not wanting to break whatever spell it seems the two of you are under. Joel reaches for the remote, turning the movie off before tossing it aside and resting a finger under your chin. He gently pushes, urging you to tilt your head to look up at him. The little, curious noise you let out at his touch makes Joel’s insides instantly turn to fire, his body tensing up and muscles going taut. Just the touch of his calloused finger under your soft chin has a heat licking up your spine, then settling deep inside your gut.

“This was nice,” you murmur, now looking up at him and blinking slowly. He can hardly believe that the look in your eye - the starry, eager, content look - has anything to do with him. His eyes drift down to where your lips look so pouty and inviting right now, parted slightly as you wait to hear from him.

Joel leans forward a little, sliding his fingers up from your chin to your cheek, cupping it softly. He brushes his lips across yours, so lightly you can barely feel it at first, sensing his hesitancy. You meet him in the middle, and you can feel the smile on his lips as they meet yours in full, pressing into you with a romantically soft kiss. You moan wantonly into it, having wanted and dreamed of this moment countless times. Your hand cups his face in return, gently scratching your fingers through his beard and he lets out his own satisfied groan now before pulling away.

“That okay?” he asks quietly, his voice a hoarse whisper.

“Joel,” you say, your own voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been wanting that to happen for like, almost a year now, so yes.”

Joel blinks hard in surprise. “That long?” he asks, his tone going lower with suggestion as his brows quirk a little. He keeps his hand on your cheek, rubbing along your jawline with his thumb.

“Mhm. That long,” you murmur with a nod, closing the small gap between your faces once more as you press your lips into his. You make a small moaning sound deep in your throat and barely pull your lips off of his to utter feels nice.

Your enthusiasm urges Joel on, a quiet groan making its way out of his throat as he deepens the kiss, sliding his hand from your cheek up to the back of your head and burying it in your hair. His fingers along your scalp feels so heavenly that you can’t help the satisfied mewl that comes out of you.

Joel’s hands start to explore a little more, curving down your back with a firm touch, his fingers tracing along your spine. You nearly shudder and then gasp when his calloused pads find their way underneath the bottom of your tank top, touching bare skin now, the heat of his hands blazing into you. You can feel how heavily you’re breathing already, the tension building and nearly unbearable. It feels like a dream, this moment you’d thought so much about happening, wishing for his touch and his lips and his body just like this. Your hands wrap around his neck to keep him pulled close, desperately trying to keep this moment from slipping away from you.

He surprises you by lifting you onto his lap, hands enveloping your plush hips as he tugs you over to straddle him. You gladly and willingly move your body along to where he guides you, settling on top of his lap with your heart beating out of your chest. It all feels so natural but has you giddy, nearly jumping out of your skin with the quickening pace of your kisses. Your bodies meld to one another effortlessly, your hips sinking down further into his lap as you grind a little into each other.

Every movement, touch, and synced breath is pure bliss as you two continue devouring everything the other is putting out, tongues dancing with one another and now swollen lips pressing into each other. All the pent up longing and burning desire coursing through you now has an outlet, and you try to hold back a moan that pushes up through your throat to not seem too desperate, but Joel beats you to it, a little groan slipping past his lips. He pulls away slowly, peppering the corners of your mouth with a few kisses before slowly opening his eyes, now gazing at you with a heady, half-lidded look. You meet his expression curiously, your heart still thundering as you lazily scratch along the back of his neck.

“W-would it make me look like a complete idiot if I said,” Joel starts, keeping his hands steadily wrapped around your hips, fingers still splayed all the way to your ass. “I wanna take y’on a date before we go any further? Know it’s old fashioned, but…”

You laugh quietly, sincere and sweet, at his honesty and apprehension, watching his cheeks reddening and mouth a little agape as he awaits your reply. You palm his chest with your free hand, spreading your fingers out and brushing them dotingly across the fabric of his tee shirt.

“Not at all,” you tell him, your voice coming out a little cracked, planting a chaste kiss on his lips, savoring the way they mingle so quickly into yours without hesitation. “I think I’d like that, too,” you add on, giving him an encouraging smile.

You see him breathe out, shoulders sagging in relief while his mouth twitches upwards. “Good,” he sighs, “‘Cause I really wanna take you out, darlin’. Been wantin’ to…” he says with a lopsided smile now, leaning back in for another kiss.

“Maybe I’ve been wanting to, too,” you tease, leaning your head down to rest on his shoulder, snuggling into him, letting the moment become comfortable, any expectations on the two of you lifted for now.

“Couldn’t tell or anythin’, by the way you hopped on top of me,” Joel jokes, breaking the tension even more. It feels like any other day, now, like you tease each other while you curl yourself up on his lap all the time. It amazes you how little discomfort or awkwardness you feel right now around Joel despite the major shift in your relationship only moments ago.

“You pulled me up here, you ass,” you quip back, lightly hitting him on his other shoulder.

“That I did, sugar,” he says more sweetly now, kissing your forehead, warm and sticky. “Wanna go out w’me this Friday, then?” he asks, and you pick your head up to smile at him, tenderly curling your fingers around his cheek, still getting used to the feeling of touching him so freely.

“Friday? Not sooner?” you ask, biting the inside of your lip and trying to give him your best version of sweet, pleading eyes.

“Eager, are you?”

You kiss him again in reply, letting your tongue slip into his mouth again and he meets it hungrily with his own, his hands snaking around your back to your ass and squeezing the globes greedily. You can feel his arousal, pressing hard where your warm heat meets his, thighs gripping around his legs tightly. He has to practically tear himself away and you can see the mischief in his dark eyes growing by the second.

“Yeah, me too,” he says, a little breathless now. “Tomorrow, then.”

“Tomorrow is perfect.” You slip off of his lap and plop next to him on the couch again, stifling a yawn now that you’re coming down from the quick boost of adrenaline your make-out session with Joel had given you.

“I should head out, but…” Joel says when he notices your tiredness, putting a warm hand on your thigh. “I’m lookin’ forward to tomorrow.”

“Me too,” you reply with a wide grin. You stand up from the couch with him, walking to the door together with your fingers brushing, not seeming to want to be without the other’s touch.

“Pick you up right here at 6:00 tomorrow, yeah?” Joel stands in your open doorway, lingering on shifting feet as you nod in agreement. He leans in and captures your lips in another kiss, this one feeling just as new as the others and you instantly lose yourself to it, breathing in his scent and memorizing the feel of his plush lips on yours for the final time tonight.

“Goodnight,” you say quietly, planting one more peck on his cheek, wiry stubble around his beard tickling your lips. He ambles down your walkway, and while you’re admiring the view, leaning against your doorframe he turns back, giving you a sheepish, crooked smile.

“Hey,” he says, stopping where he stands. “Happy Halloween, darlin’,”

You can’t help the smile that bursts onto your face, your heart soaring at the adorable pet name, the locks of Joel’s hair sticking out in all directions, and the near puppy dog eyes he’s giving you right now. This right here, this Joel Miller is one you know not everybody is lucky enough to see, and you’re so grateful you’re getting a glimpse of it tonight.

You lift a hand and wave as you step back inside and call out to him.

“Happy Halloween, Joel.”

dividers from saradika !

#halloween event #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you

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jon-snows-man-bun · 6 days ago

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By Turns

Chapter Fourteen

The closer Eris gets to his goals the harder he has to work to keep all plates spinning. Tensions simmer underneath his new alliances, pulling him into the Hewn City where the impact of Rhysand’s rule shapes the future.

Masterlist

Find this fic on AO3

A/N: Chapter contains smut, violent ideations, discussions of trauma, misogyny, domestic violence, female genital mutilation (ie wing clipping), extremely brief non-con (blink and you miss it, from nobody we like), and alcohol abuse.

Cut an Azriel jacking off scene because it wasn't plot essential and we've clocked in at 6.3k words. Let me know if you want it.

Thank you everyone for being so patient, and happy new year! And for every lovely comment and question I got. I love you. Hold my hand and let's shit on Velaris together.

Azriel was heavy as he stepped through the shadows. He’d been dreading bringing Aisling to Velaris, dreading managing her integration. It had to happen; keeping her in the Moonstone Palace wasn’t doing them any favours – with Eris, with the Hewn City, or with her – but the thought of telling her and keeping a shadow on her was only slightly less exhausting than the thought of continuing to stay at the palace and winnowing constantly between locations.

It was fucking annoying. The only reason he spent the time here was because he enjoyed the suffering, in a masochistic sort of way – it was so miserable, and Aisling was so obscure and sly about everything. It always felt as if she were in on some joke he wasn’t, and she was simply waiting for him to catch up. It had been that way when she asked about his hands, drawing him out by playing stupid then pouncing on the only fucking vulnerability he couldn’t hide. It infuriated him, feeling like he’d been outmanoeuvred because of a false assumption. Basic, simple mistakes Rhys’ father had whipped out of him long ago.

And thinking about Eris Vanserra and his motivations this much made him all but break out in hives. Was Eris toying with her, or was he smitten, or was he merely doing the bare minimum as expected of any newly-mated male and didn’t intend to use her beyond as a broodmare? At times Azriel was convinced of any one of the three, only to pick up a new bit of information and change his mind. Eris was difficult – but not impossible – to predict, and Aisling was cagey about him. She was too well-trained in courtly arts to give him a genuine answer, and too guarded and aware of her position to slip up.

He had to have told her something, be up to something, for her to be so sly. Rhys was right to be paranoid, but Azriel was starting to accept that if they ever genuinely wanted to know Eris’ plans, Rhys would have to go into her mind. Perhaps there was a way to do that delicately – Rhys always disliked invading minds, and if all of this didn’t reveal any answers as to the source of tensions in the Hewn City or uncover intent from Eris then it would merely drive a wedge further between them all. Eris had already been furious at the invasion of his brothers and soldiers’ minds after offering up his own to Rhys. To do the same to his mate out of suspicion of him would be, perhaps, the final slap he wouldn’t ignore.

Rhys had already decided to do it, though, to protect his family, his city. Those fifty years under Amarantha and the battle against Hybern had proven that there was nothing he wasn’t willing to do. Azriel had seen shadows of it before, but after Amarantha, his brother became ruthless in his ferocious drive to protect. Azriel assumed it was because of Feyre, and now Nyx; how the mating bond was not just a thing to be possessed but something that shaped you back.

What changes would be wrought in Eris? Perhaps Eris wouldn’t care how they handled Aisling if he wanted her only to breed the next litter of Vanserra pricks. Eris had never cared for females that Azriel had seen in all his surveillance; he acted like they were chattel to him, fucking them like whores then turning them out. Azriel had tried to send his own spies to Eris’ bed twice. The first time he hadn’t touched her, but on the second… The informant - a female he’d trained himself and had employed as a serving maid in the Forest House – had been visibly distraught when she told him Eris had barely said a word to her. She didn’t detail what he had done to her in lieu of talking, but she’d had dark bruises and bite marks sucked up and down her neck.

That had been in the century following Mor, when Azriel burned most brightly for revenge. Azriel had sent the spy back in - to one of Eris’ brothers that time - and had never seen her again. It had been another loss that he added to their already sizeable tally.

His thoughts were running in circles uselessly. He was overly tired. Nuala met him in the hall as he arrived at the Moonstone Palace, her dark eyes shadowed and her lips pursed. “Good luck,” was all she said, slipping off to her own rooms, long hair swirling with the shadows that drifted off her like smoke. That wasn’t promising. Azriel frowned, wondering if this was the day Aisling finally threw the hissy fit she’d been building up to.

He came across Aisling laying on a chaise, drunk as a pleasure hall patron and eating raw organ-meat with her bare hands. She was licking the blood off her fingers, eyes half-shut and the tips of her pointed ears practically quivering in pleasure.

“Duck’s liver,” she said finally, head tossed back, making a heady sound in the back of her throat. “Delicious. Help yourself.”

Azriel’s mouth twisted. Her voice had a thick, dreamy quality, and he had never seen her looking so rumpled. She was draped over the chaise like a discarded blanket, gossamer black gown pooled around her as lightly as cobwebs. It did little to hide her body. He was used to seeing such styles in the context of the Court of Nightmares, and she’d been wearing similar dresses for the time she’d been here, but now with her sauced as a goose and lounging indulgently across the furniture –

His eyes strayed, then darted back to her face. His shadows clung to him instinctively, hiding where he’d been looking as he sat heavily in an armchair opposite her. He’d tell her that she’d be moved. He wouldn’t warn her about Rhys; better to catch her unaware with that.

Azriel took the time to study her as he sat and Aisling lolled with her eyes closed. She couldn’t have been any further from Elain, and yet they were mated to two brothers - and Eris and Lucien were more alike than they were different, both slick, manipulative courtiers. The Mother was either blind or working to a plan none of them could conceive, in Azriel’s estimation.

The thought of Elain made his palms itch, the familiar sense of shame slinking through him and making him shift down in the armchair. Vanserras got mates. High Lords got mates. Cassian, with his fierce, warm heart, got a mate. Azriel didn’t, and should put it from his mind – it wasn’t for someone like him, and centuries of longing for Mor only for her to avoid him had made that clear.

He told himself to make his peace with it, even as shame and anger curdled together while he watched Eris Vanserra’s spoiled child of a mate lick blood off her hands. In the absence of anything to do she was making her own fun, like any faerie. But with none to torment she seemed to have turned her destructive impulses inward.

“If you are bored you will be very amused tomorrow,” Azriel finally said, when she showed no interest in speaking to him. She didn’t sit up, merely lolling on her side, studying him with knowing dark eyes.

“Am I to be killed?” She asked, as if about the weather.

“You’ll be brought to Velaris.” Azriel poured himself a glass of wine after she gestured lazily at the bottle to him.

“Alive? Or only my head?” She was amused now, watching him drink. She was stroking the velvet of the couch rhythmically, petting it like it was an animal, eyes occasionally going unfocused. He caught them for a moment and saw that they were all pupil, only a thin sickle crescent of blue on the edge of the deep well of black.

“Alive, and all of you. Including your headache,” Azriel said, looking pointedly at the half-empty bottle on the table, the bloody plate, the empty bottle she’d already been through on its side on the floor.

Aisling laughed, rolling on to her stomach, idly conjuring darkness. She waited, letting it pool, then lazily flicked it at one of his shadows as it skittered across the floor.

Azriel cleared his throat. She seemed moody and contemplative today – had probably snapped at Nuala, judging by Nuala’s expression as she left – and unwilling to talk. That was too bad for her; if she was to be moved, she’d need to know the same rules that would govern Keir when he inevitably infected Velaris.

“Velaris is peaceful, when you get there. You must be respectful. It is not as the Hewn City is. You will not be in any danger, so long as you do not pose any.” Azriel swallowed his wine, remembering the conversations he had had with Rhys’ mother as a child. The ways she had coaxed him like a wounded, feral animal; how she had watched him eat hiding under the table, sleep in the closet, sit in the corners of the cabin. Violence had been the first common language he shared with Rhys and Cass – their only shared trait, not even his wings worked correctly – but Ejona had taught him everything else: how to walk and talk and stand like he wasn’t a stain on the world.

“Have I not been a very well-behaved house pet?” Aisling complained, swiping her finger through the congealed blood on the plate and sucking it off. “Have I bitten you even once?”

Azriel looked pointedly at the very expensive wine bottles. If Aisling was embarrassed to be caught sauced, she didn’t show it. That was the High Fae in her: arrogant, never ashamed, always sure of themselves. Aisling poured him another glass at his stare.

“Rhys requires respect in Velaris,” Azriel said. “No violence.”

“Why are you telling me?” Aisling said. “I am not the one with the penchant for violence. Do you fear I will treat your home as you treat mine? I will not.”

She said it with no heat, and the gleam in her black eyes told him she was baiting him. She’d sussed out quickly that he was reluctant to hurt her and had been playing with claws ever since; she drew blood on occasion.

He huffed out a breath at the absurdity of Aisling taking the moral high ground, but he shrugged off the accusation. The Hewn City was hardly Velaris; it required a different role, a different way of handling.

His breath of laughter had encouraged her. “Are you afraid of me? Is that why you creep around so?”

“Hardly.” Azriel drank from his glass again as Aisling rolled around on the chaise like a cat, tossing silk pillows about until she was comfortable. “Is this how you act in the Court of Nightmares?”

“Of course,” she said, surprised. “What do you think we do all day?”

“Torment each other.”

“Only on holidays,” she replied, so seriously he wasn’t sure if she meant it or not. “What do Illyrians do all day? Swing swords and fly around?”

Azriel felt the edges of his lips kick up. “Yes. And torment each other.”

Aisling studied him closely, propping her head up on one hand. Her eyes were glassy, but Azriel was reminded of the way she looked at him before she asked about his hands. She was more perceptive than she pretended, and sharp enough to cut herself. Mor and Cass thought she was stupid, Rhys and Feyre thought her scheming or cruel or both, but Azriel saw the outline of something different.

“If I had wings you would need to tether me to the ground,” she said finally, rolling on to her back. “I would go wherever I pleased. If I misliked somewhere I would simply fly away to somewhere new.”

Azriel kept quiet, wine suddenly churning in his gut. That was all he had wished for as a child, trapped in the dark; every Illyrian had the instinct to fly, and he had spent hours each day with his eyes against to the single air brick as soon as he was tall enough. He pressed his tongue to it sometimes, to taste the fresh air as it passed through the small squares. He had heard the wind calling him, singing of far-off lovely places where there weren’t stone walls and brothers waiting to hurt him, and he had spent hours imagining what leaving would be like and all the places he would go. He imagined palaces in the sky, had furnished them in his own mind, laying pretend banquets and eating the dishes one by one.

He would have died without that air brick. The imprisonment would have been too much. He would have simply curled up in the dark, waited for death to find him, and held out his hand for it.

“That’s why females are clipped,” he said, and the anger that took him whenever he thought about Illyria reared its head again. “So they cannot leave their camps.” His culture’s perpetual shame. Death would not be enough to fix them.

Aisling wasn’t surprised. “Males are ever the same, high or low. They hold you so tightly it breaks you.” She sighed, blinking slowly. “Then they call that care.”

“Is that what you fear Vanserra will do to you?” Azriel asked.

Aisling didn’t look at him, instead conjuring darkness to swirl through the air above her with one finger. It wasn’t like Rhys’ darkness – there were no stars, no constellations adding texture and depth. It was just silken blackness.

“I’m not afraid,” she said finally, her eyes half-lidded. “My chambers will have windows. He said there are many trees to look at….” She trailed away, lolling back against the foot of the chaise, sliding down. Azriel’s mouth twisted at that – ‘many trees’ was an understatement for Autumn – but it dropped off his face when he realised that it was likely on her mind because she’d never seen any. None in the Hewn City, none on the mountain slopes here, and she’d in all certainty never been anywhere else. They kept their females cloistered down there.

Windows. Trees. Azriel could taste that air brick still. He took a deep drink of his wine to chase it away, but it lingered at the back of his throat. Salt and stone and tears, the hot blood of a rat, the rust-flavoured water - he could taste it all the time.

“You don’t need to accept it,” he said suddenly. “Rhys changed the laws. You are not compelled to accept the bond if you do not wish to.”

It took Aisling a long moment to realise he had spoken - she was staring out the window, head tipped upside down off the end of the chaise. When she finally processed what he said she looked at him with eyes like two new moons.

“Lord Eris would war with you for that,” she said, long hair brushing the marble floor as she spoke. “Perhaps you have said the law is changed, but I doubt the High Lord values my independence so deeply as for all that.”

It was true. Rhys would hand her over if it came to war. And it would: even if Eris didn’t give a fuck about his mate – unimaginable to Azriel but extremely likely from Eris – he couldn’t afford to look so weak as to let them keep hold of her. Females were still property in Autumn, as in the Hewn City; it would be embarrassing for him, and Azriel knew from his informants that he was still wrangling Autumn nobility on the fence about rallying behind him. Their culture was as broken as Illyria’s, despite all their wealth and aristocracy. His shadows were writhing now, zipping about the room, betraying his anger.

“Don’t look so dour on my behalf,” Aisling was saying, sitting up. “To be female is to be controlled. You become accustomed to it.”

“It isn’t right.”

“And yet here I am, your grateful guest.” She fixed him with a bored look. “Don’t wring your hands over it now, after it’s already been done. It’s insulting.”

Azriel felt his lip curl at her in irritation. She was hardly being mistreated – he’d watched Keir bounce her head off a table, for fuck’s sake, and he doubted that was the worst she’d ever been handed from her utter lack of reaction. Sitting on her ass in the moonstone palace was a luxury in comparison. She also didn’t understand the larger forces at play, the balance Rhys was trying to achieve across Prythian, the pressures he needed to exert to make it happen.

“So terribly droll,” Aisling said. She seemed to be sobering, though her eyes were still dark as pits. Any drunken levity they’d had earlier was souring into ill temper. “Lord Eris will buy me twice over when it’s all done with, but I’m yet to see a drop of commission. But every male around me prospers.”

“There’s more at stake than you know,” Azriel said flatly, shaking his head. She was a child; a bored, spoiled child. She was blessed with wealth, beauty, a mate, immense magic – and still she tossed him a sour look as she sauntered from the room.

“I imagine they tell themselves that in Illyria, too,” she snapped over her shoulder, lean form silhouetted against the moonlight as she crossed in front of the great arched windows. “From my perspective you all rather look the same.”

Azriel slammed back his glass of wine, fist gripping the glass so tightly it groaned from the pressure.

-------

Aisling had slunk off to her chambers as the sun started rising, anger threatening to spill over into a messy scene. Her chest hurt from the pressure of keeping herself contained. Even as she leaned a hand against one of the columns that formed the series of tall open arches, breathing in the crisp air of the rising sun, she couldn’t shake the restlessness.

The marble was smooth and polished under her palm and the mountaintops were a blushing rosy pink as the sun crept up, but the sight only nettled her. An empty palace on top of her mountain with walls made of windows and air.

Aisling stepped away from the edge of the balcony and waved a hand. The curtains swung closed obediently, and the view was covered with darkness.

Earlier that morning she had woken up with the same restlessness, more bored and frustrated than she’d been in her whole life. Fear had no room to grow anymore, suffocated beneath the weight of anger and boredom she’d built up over the weeks in the empty, airy palace. She had wanted to scream. She had wanted to cry. She had wanted to tear the velvet cushions apart, rip down the curtains, stab Azriel and Nuala and then herself. She had wanted to touch the snow with her bare hands. She had wanted to leap from the balconies. She had wanted to grab Eris by the pale curve of his throat and squeeze until he burned the entire moonstone palace to ash. She had settled for getting drunk.

That had been a poor idea, it turned out.

Normally wine dropped a sheet of glass between her mind and her eyes: she could glide through court, through anything, looking and moving but not really seeing. Everyone in the City drank to excess as far as she could tell; perhaps for different reasons, but Aisling liked watching all that happened through a window rather than her own two eyes. It made the bouts of sudden, vicious violence easier to swallow, made her face easier to arrange into a pleasant, cow-eyed mask. Everything she felt and thought was contained inside, hers and hers alone, like a little silver locket.

Wine didn’t make the locket break open. It must have been Azriel – she had been adrift in a pleasant lake, any frustration or anger nicely packaged and sealed away, before he started speaking to her. He had a core of icy anger that ran through him like a curse, and she had just touched the edge of it, enough to burn herself.

He had been so…. Aisling huffed a sigh as she stripped off her dress and crawled under the blankets of her bed naked. It was a different sort of knife, one she wasn’t used to and didn’t know how to defend against. His eyes looked angry, and his mouth said sympathetic things, but his hands still held the leash. Hers – and the City’s.

Aisling was bored and irritable and unhappy. She was adrift and lashing out like a child when she needed to keep it within herself as she always did. She was so malcontent, tossing and turning despite the silk bedding and gentle darkness, that it bled into her dream.

When she finally slept, Eris came to her.

His hand wrapped around her ankle and she was up, only to be dragged down the mattress and into his waiting hands. In her dream it was night and the moon was full, and Eris was illuminated in a way she had never seen him, glowing and warm against the endless night sky.

“Little mate,” he crooned; that silken, aristocratic drawl, the smooth Autumn accent. “Did you miss me? Did you long for me?”

Aisling aimed a kick at his head with her other leg. It only made him laugh, catching that ankle as well, biting her hard on the calf.

“Don’t be so wroth with me.”

He was on her then, straight away, licking her teeth as she clawed at him, suddenly eager to hurt him. It only made him laugh again and roll over, pulling her astride him effortlessly. He was laid out beneath her like a banquet, his hands skimming their way up her bare thighs. She could feel his cock, hard and insistent, pressing at the seam of his trousers underneath her bare cunt.

Eris studied her then with his head cocked to the side, naked and perched atop him, his brilliant red hair spilled over the pillows. His hands rested on the curve of her hip, amber eyes sizzling with inner flame in the darkened bedroom. His face was unreadable, unknowable to her. He was bathed silver in the holy glow of moonlight.

It was her dream, though. Aisling drew back and slapped him as hard she could. It only made his cock twitch underneath her, and he groaned as he ground her down against him, seeking relief. Aisling’s breath caught at the friction.

“Cruel female,” he panted, forcing her hips to grind faster. “Hurt me all you like. It’s nothing to me. Soon we’ll make others hurt worse.”

“I hate this place,” she whispered as he rubbed her against himself. “I hate it. I hate it.”

“A test of patience,” Eris groaned, raising her for a moment, desperately unlacing his trousers. “Sharpen your knife in secret, mate, be patient.”

She sank down on his bared cock, and she felt everything and nothing at the same time, as was the nature of dreams.

“I hate it,” she chanted, “I hate it I hate it,” as she rode his cock, “I hate it here,” as she dug ten crimson pinpricks of blood in the smooth muscle of his chest. In her dream he felt like the same polished moonstone as the palace but warm and living, full of fire and magic and blood. He grabbed a handful of her ass, sitting up and moving her how he wanted, so she could wind her arms around his pale neck and speak it directly from her mouth to his.

“I hate them,” she whispered as Eris nipped her bottom lip, the heat of him simmering, scalding, making her sweat.

“Patience,” he murmured. “Trust and patience.” His amber eyes drank her down greedily, the same as they did that night, as he took everything she offered and a little extra, too. She rode him the same, taking what she wanted from him – even if he gave her nothing else, he could give her an orgasm, and Aisling felt the burn in her thighs and in her cunt as she sank to the root of his cock.

She felt disoriented as she sprung awake, panting and hot all over like a fever.

The purple silk blankets were tangled around her in a great knot, and she was slick all over – in her eyes, behind her knees, between her legs. She was dizzy and sick and like she’d die if Eris didn’t touch her immediately, that instant. The bond was strung tight against her ribs and twanging like the string of a lute. It was a writhing, painful ache, desperate to find its missing half, caught rasping on the sour note left between them.

That was how she felt in this empty palace: a missing half, like she’d been clipped neatly from everyone she’d known and lost like a broken earring between the back of a couch and the wall. Never to be seen again, collecting dust and cobwebs. She waved the curtains open with a flick and the blue hour was revealed: somewhere between lightness and darkness, the sun having gone round to the other side of the mountain, any light turned indigo and sleek.

She knew how the magic of dreams worked - she had worked with it all her life. The dream was too surrealistic, too fantastical and nonsensical to have been dropped directly in her mind; more likely, she had felt Eris’ desire and longing and her heart had filled in the details with its own whims.

Aisling was staring down the narrow path of a dynastic political match, and not even in her heart’s most private fantasies was Eris anything other than arrogant and high-handed with her. He didn’t want to hurt her and fucked like a demon but she couldn’t imagine ever having a partner in him like Niamh had with Padraig. Her dream had left her muddled up, a frustrating mix of angry and hot. Eris, Azriel, and her headache all joined hands in her head.

Trust and patience, Eris had said in her dream, but she was a rough hand at both.

She had soaked in the beautiful bathtub, staring off the edge of the world as the sky changed colours, until Nuala summoned her.

“The High Lord is coming to speak to you before we leave,” was all she said. Aisling’s mood soured, last night’s wine churning up her stomach and head; Azriel’s dark presence was no help as she took a seat on a carved chair to wait. Neither of them spoke, which was for the best, considering she was saving her limited reserve of deferential words for the High Lord.

He arrived soon after the moon rose. A last quarter moon, a harbinger of change, teetering in the balance. He trailed darkness and stars in his wake.

She wasn’t speaking with Azriel, too hungover and tetchy, but he vastly preferred silence and didn’t seem to care. But still she rose, and gave the High Lord the barest curtsy she could get away with, remembering how he’d laughed as she’d bled all over the floor with her head smashed in.

The High Lord was dressed in black, both his clothing and the darkness he wore around him like a cloak. His power was a tangible thing, his magic a suffocating cloud that filled the room and wanted to squeeze her to the floor. Her hair stood on end, the back of her neck prickling as his eyes swept over her, stuffing his hands in his pockets casually. The swirling, writhing tattoos decorating his hands and forearms were on display.

A bargain-mark was an ill thing in her City, a mark of someone who needed to be coerced by magic to uphold their promises. Breaking oaths was already severe enough a crime, but to need the threat of magical punishment on top? The more you had the more untrustworthy you were, the more unreliable, the more bound by others’ claims on your actions. Her own skin was unmarked. The High Lord’s was covered – palm to neck, foot to kneecap, and likely more she’d never see.

She did not trust him. He was not of them, no matter who sired him.

“Aisling,” he greeted her, a dark smirk on his too-handsome face. “I trust you’ve been well looked after here, as our guest.”

Bastard. “You are a gracious host, High Lord,” she said, and no more. Better to speak too little than too much.

“Keir is now claiming you as his true daughter,” the High Lord said, studying her with violet eyes. “He claims he raised you by his own hand after the death of your father, and that you are more a daughter to him than the get of his body. Is this true?”

Aisling knew when to perform. She betrayed no hint of her surprise. “The Lord Steward is a father to the whole Court,” she said. “I follow him as loyally as any child.”

Lord Keir didn’t give a fuck about her and would probably actually vastly prefer it if she were dead. He had to be scheming for something – either her wealth, or because –

“Eris has not yet asked for you to be sent to him,” the High Lord said idly, propping his head in one palm, elbow casually on the table. “But don’t worry. We’ll look after you. It’s far too dangerous in the Hewn City right now to return you. But you know all about that, don’t you?”

She knew this game, the question that was not a question. She kept silent, carefully studying the wall above the High Lord’s right ear.

“I’d like to take a small look in your mind,” he said, undeterred by her studied silence. “Only a quick peek, really. At nothing personal – whatever sweet nothings Eris whispered in your ear, those can stay your own. I know how special a female’s first time can be.”

Aisling wanted to vomit.

“But I think you may have forgotten something that may be helpful for us in pacifying the Court of Nightmares. It’s your home, after all. Wouldn’t you like to see it stable and prosperous? Even a little morsel from you might help us do that.” His teeth flashed white. Azriel’s shadows circled slowly, like smoke, drifting through the dark room.

“I am but a servant of the Court,” her mouth said, while she got her mind ready. “I serve you loyally.”

“Quite,” he said, studying her with his brow furrowed. She felt a small scrape at the walls of her mind.

Was the High Lord within already? Aisling pictured Lord Thanatos’ face very clearly, taking a small silver spoon and scooping out his eye. Then she ate it like a fat grape.

She felt Rhysand’s presence then, a dark ribbon that didn’t belong, threading through her awareness of the world with a sudden chill. It was like a black spot on the edge of her vision, only in her mind’s eye instead. The pressure of it, of containing two in a skull designed for one, made her temples throb.

Across from her the High Lord smiled. “We all wish we could do that.”

He went deeper then. She felt those sharp dark talons dig in, and Aisling stilled though he did not hold her, horrified. It felt as if he had ripped the dress straight off her back or shoved his hand into her ribcage; an invasion, a humiliation, something intimate and done so casually that it was shocking.

The talons found the secret spaces in her mind, homing in on the dark pit that she pulled from when she wanted to send nightmares and misery. He dredged through the black hole of her heart, fishing out the miserable things she put away to forget and popped the locks off them one by one.

She let out a grunt as she hit the stone with a hard thud. “Don’t waste my time,” Keir hissed at her, grinding her face against the obsidian slab –

– blow from the back of Lord Thanatos’ hand blindsided her. His hand cracked across her face hard enough to stun her and sent –

He was as good as his word, looking no more than a glimpse at the things he wasn’t searching for. But still they kept coming, as fast as he could dig.

– Choked hard as Evander forced her head all the way to his pelvis, her nose pressed against his skin, and she forced herself to relax and not fight it. “Fuck,” he groaned above her, releasing her with a wet suck –

– A hard, cold hand ripped the blankets off her as she cried out, dragging her out of bed so her knees scraped across the stone floor as she scrabbled wildly, one fingernail ripping off in the bedframe as she grabbed at it. “Aisling,” her father thundered, “what the fuck have you done – ”

Don’t cry, she wouldn’t cry. She was stone, she was hard diamond. This was pain and humiliation. She’d long since made her peace with both, could live alongside them.

The High Lord kept searching.

– “You were bred for such a purpose, were you not?” Eris snapped. “What else did you presume your role here would be?” –

The Dark Queen’s wild laughter up on the obsidian throne as –

The High Lord let go of that memory quickly, as if scalded. The pressure of those claws eased for half a second and Aisling was on it, grabbing that memory with both hands, dragging it up and forcing it to the forefront of her mind –

The lesser fae had been herded into the streets to wait for their new Queen at the order of the High Lord, and Aisling stared wildly at them all as all the gentry passed by on their way to the throne room. It was more crowded than she had ever seen it, dark streets throned with wild-haired banshees with nails like knives and silvery-grey goblins, trolls towering over the crowd like mossy boulders, gaunt and yellow-eyed Bodachs with arms twice as long as they should be. And everywhere the little dark knockers and coblynau who worked the mines, already shorter than Aisling at eleven years old.

She held her father’s hand and they passed them all by.

The throne room was crowded with all the gentry, every noble faerie and their families, packed in and frightened. She’d only been here a few times and the room had felt enormous, but now it felt small with all the bodies. And on the tall dais was the Dark Queen, her hair the red of old blood, and by her side was the High Lord –

Rhysand tried to pull back, but they were in it now, stuck in the mire of what was to come.

The High Lord knelt before her, and the Queen was smiling a terrible smile, and then she made him lay prone and kiss her feet. Some of the gentry laughed, and then they were the first to die – Aisling’s memories splintered like glass here, snagging on the sharp edges of what her mind had refused to accept and keep hold of – The Queen made them all watch as the horrible creature ate a youngling, starting with her toes, not ending until the steps of the dais were red and sticky, but then all she could feel was the slick, cold burn of her father’s metal armour beneath her cheek as he pressed her to him so she did not see what was happening. She cried hot tears against the metal, her mother pressed trembling into her back, her father’s gauntlets cutting into her waist from how hard he clutched them both. The hot, fetid stink of death and blood, the iron scent of the High Lord’s magic above it all, caging them in, cutting them raggedly in two.

Their own High Lord. The Lord Steward was up on the dais as well, shouting, but all Aisling could see amid all the red and the black was the dark violet of the High Lord’s eyes and his face like stone as he –

He eased out of her mind finally, face drawn and brow furrowed. Azriel was as still as a statue over his shoulder, so deeply in shadow that she could barely make out his profile.

“Rhys…” Azriel said finally, voice grave. The High Lord must have shown him everything as well, brought him along to see every horrible thing that had ever befallen her, every terrible thing she’d ever done. The worst day of her life and every awful day since, chewed over like a hound with a bone, cracked open for secrets hidden in her marrow. Aisling hoped they’d found the truth they sought – the seeds of malcontent had been planted long before she’d ever been born, but what fertile soil Rhysand had made that day…

Aisling was pulled from her thoughts as the High Lord pushed back from the table abruptly, running a hand over his face.

“Do not ever mention that day again or I will carve the memory from your head,” he ordered her, violet eyes burning cold. Aisling could only nod. Azriel stared, stone-faced and brutal, nothing but the High Lord’s weapon once more.

Rhysand was gone, then, striding from the room, winnowing away through a rip of darkness. Azriel couldn’t even stomach looking at her.

“Why did he bow to her?” Aisling finally asked, her voice scraping and raw even to her ears. The High Lord had agreed not to hurt her, but it still felt as those talons had scraped their way into her skull and back out again.

Azriel understood what she was asking. “To protect the Night Court.”

“But he didn’t,” she said, and she could see Azriel’s profile through his shadows, studying her in turn. “He killed us, and watched her kill us. My father died there.”

It was a long moment of silence before Azriel answered again. “To protect Velaris,” he admitted.

She was too raw to be angry, wrung out and hungover. “It was all for Velaris. We suffered and fought for Velaris,” she said, trying the words out.

“He suffered, too,” Azriel insisted. “Greatly. More than I know, for fifty years.”

“Yet he lives now and my father does not.” Azriel had no words for her at that.

-------

A/N: Azriel is like... soooo close to getting it. Justifying Rhys being a bit of a weirdo here based on that scene in ACOTAR where he rifles through Feyre's mind and brings up her sexual fantasies, and when he comments on her tits in front of Tarquin in ACOMAF - remember that? He's GROSS when he's got his mask on, guys.

#eris vanserra #eris vanserra x oc #eris vanserra x ofc #acotar fanfiction #by turns #my writing #didn’t forget my page break spacer or a paragraph off the end this time guys!!!#hewn city #court of nightmares

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swimming-karyss · 6 months ago

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I've been thinking about the screwed magnetic fields of the grand line recently, and while that train of thought didn't lead anywhere, the phrase I liked - "an invisible birdcage" - really applied to Sabo's situation nicely.

I mean, it's obvious how much influence Sabo's parents have on him, but have you ever thought that Sabo never felt freedom while he was staying in Goa kingdom? And it's even before he was brought back to his family and properly realized just how messed up nobles are!

We've seen multiple times that his parents treat him as something they own, that he unquestionably belongs to them, and even after running away to the Gray Terminal the feeling of being tied down never went away. It seems like Sabo internalised that so much, that he didn't even realise that he was free this whole time! He was free to choose his future, he was free to choose his family! The only thing holding them down was that they were unprepared to set sail,amd even then they could always leave if they wanted! As Sabo did - by stealing the boat.

And yet he still longed for freedom, to be "anywhere but here". We can see it in his design - he lives among the 'scum' of the Gray Terminal, and yet he still dressed as a noble, he wears a waistcoat and a top hat which reminds us of the fashion of the high town and especially his father, and his cravat is tied tightly around his neck. His life really was suffocating for him. Even if he was physically away from his family he still could feel their influence, though he was outside the city wall, outside of their reach! And he ran away 5 years ago! He's spent so much time living there, that his noble upbringing has faded - he felt compassion towards the people of the gray terminal, which nobles don't even consider human; he even put someone else's happiness before his own - which is unheard of in the noble circles; he has defeated men twice his size, fearlessly charged into battle while nobles don't want to get their hands dirty. And yet he was powerless when met with violence from his father, showing that despite all this time, despite how much he's changed he still was in that invisible birdcage, unable to act under the influence of his father. (which is why he leaves again)

Even Ace and Luffy feel that:

And it's really sad that Ace says that Sabo was never able to grasp freedom, because even if briefly, he did. With you two :") But he could never feel freedom as long as he stayed in the country where people are treated no better than trash, and the shadow of his family and Goa's walls lingered above him.

And a couple of hundred chapters later we see the extent of his parents' grasp! Even with amnesia this deep-seated feeling of confinement never left him. (Though I do think that it's not just the abuse from his parents but also his disgust with nobles as a whole: the burning of the Gray Terminal and nobles' indifference to it clearly affected him a lot)

And what's worse, now he can't even identify what's wrong! I mean, it's clear that his parents were abusive, you don't need to be a Sherlock to figure that out, but the specific details are lost. Think about it! He ended up on a ship with people who at first didn't really want anything to do with him - not out of malice, they just have more important things at the moment; and then in an organisation(an army) where your value as a soldier is based on your performance(like rising through ranks and such). He doesn't know that his parents equated his worth with his usefulness, and the revs don't know that the boy being so eager to help isn't just a rightheous motivation. He needed to be sure that their efforts on getting him to health weren't in waste, to be useful, so that the only people he knows won't just leave him, plus pair it with his moral values, distaste of nobles, longing for freedom... – no wonder he is the second-in-command of the entire army by the age 22!

This guy's love language is acts of service, but no one (not even Sabo himself) realises that it stems from his screwed upbringing and fear of being cast away if he's not of use.

Ok, to be fair, it's mostly based on the flashbacks - I haven't finished my reread to look in depth at him as an adult yet! After all we've only seen point A(his childhood) and point B(adulthood) with the journey between them obscured. He does seem to be faring well tho! He takes his job seriously when needed, but also fucks around when he wants to - even if ppl around him show displeasure with that! Good for him.

Same with Koala actually! It's so nice to see her being able to express her feelings so visibly! Be it positive or negative. And I think it's cute, that while Sabo is both the common reason and victim of her outbursts of emotion, he never berates her for it! He's not thrilled, but he's not complaining either!

#all roads lead to Rome and all thoughts lead to Sabo so to speak #sabo #revolutionary sabo #one piece #karyss' rambling #oh now that I think Sabo and Koala share some parallels in their character development #the main one - they were forced to conform to extreme extent of societal norms: reserved emotions. tidiness #obedience. studies for future. living up to parents' expectations etc...#and by healing from that they both grew up insufferable to be around🫡

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symphonic-scream · 10 months ago

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Okay hear me out

Persona 5 Stardew Valley au

So we've got the animal seller, Haru, who's parents divorced when she was young. She spent her teen years in the city with her father, but once an adult she decided to live with her mom, and has fallen in love with country life

Makoto has lived in town her whole life. Her older sister left to have a fancy city job, and thinks Makoto is wasting her talents and smarts by staying to keep up the family tradition. Makoto knows someone has to protect the town, and gladly draws her sword to do so. She trains by cutting down trees for the local artist and for town projects

Ryuji is a former golden child. He was going to be a star athlete, but an accident took it from him. He's not really doing anything at the moment, just working on loving life again. His Ma is the bus driver

Shiho moved to town after a similar incident to Ryuji, only she puts all she is into work, to have a place so when they're adults, her girlfriend can leave her family behind so they can be together. She only recently took over the carpentry business from her mentor, and her girlfriend Ann helped expand the business to include furniture and house decor, with design input

The pub in town in Leblanc. While the owner, Sojiro, specializes in coffee, he'll accept local foods to make dishes by request of the townspeople. His daughter Futaba is a recovering shut in, and his wife Wakaba runs the town clinic, with her med student Tae

Yusuke appeared one day, having sold all he had to find a font of inspiration. He fell for the valley, and at first lived in a tent near the mountain. Makoto, who nearly mistook him for a monster, invited him to stay on her family's property. He mostly paints, but does sculptures for order from the nearby city to pay his share of living costs

The town blacksmith is named Munehisa Iwai. He's the broody type, but cares for his son a whole lot. He's just, not good at showing it. He often requests things his kid would like

The town store used to belong to an older man, but he passed it on to a wayward boy and his younger brother, both whom he met by chance. The boys, then in foster care, lived with him until he became too old and ill go run the store. Akira and young Morgana still keep the Velvet Room running, even if old man Igor is living in Hospice

And, the mayor, Lavenza. She's very new to the position, which used to be Igor's. She's hoping to improve the town a lot, and is caring for her younger twin sisters

A strange man lives on the beach, with a strange talent for fishing. Goro doesn't talk about who he was before he moved there. It's behind him.

The library is run by Hifumi, who wants to reopen the museum portion after her parents sold the artifacts to keep it from closing. Hifumi thinks a museum would inspire tourists to donate,

And, finally, our farmer.

Sumire feels lost. Her sister died, her parents can't speak to her without crying, and she feels, trapped, so she impulsively quits her profession. She finds a letter from her grandfather, with the deed to a farm. Needing a reset, she leaves the city and life behind to live in a small town in the valley, where no one knows her, or her sister.

To clear things up, Makoto and Ryuji both grew up in town, have been friends the whole time. Futaba has been in town since she was 6, Hifumi was born there, and Akira and Morgana have been there since they were 14 and 6, now about 21 and 13. Shiho and Ann were in Ryuji's class at school, since they had to travel to a nearby city for school. Haru moved there when she was 18, Yusuke and Goro appeared around 19-20.

Anyways. Talk to me about this

(I'm open to any ships for it pretty much, but I will say I have Okujima in it.)

#persona 5 stardew valley au #makoto niijima #haru okumura #okujima #yusuke kitagawa #ryuji sakamoto #ann takamaki #goro akechi #futaba sakura #akira kurusu #morgana p5 #hifumi togo #sumire yoshizawa

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storiesbyjes2g · 1 year ago

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3.74 San Sequoia dreaming

Dub was such a blast to hang out with, and I really wished we could have spent more time together, swapping stories and figuring out our lives. But eventually, he had to leave and meet Maia to catch their train. It made me really happy when he said he wanted to stay in touch. I was planning to ask him, but he beat me to it, and I was stoked to finally have a new friend. When I got home, Sophia asked where I'd come from all suited up, and I told her about meeting Dub. Needless, she was thrilled to hear about my new friend. That night, as I lay beside her, the memories of the afternoon replayed in my mind, from the tour to our conversations. At that moment, I recognized what I need to do. Or rather, how I needed to do it. I hyped up San Sequoia so much, but I never actually showed it to her. How could I expect her to be on board with going to a place she had never seen? For all she knew, it could be just another sleepy little town, like Oasis Springs. We were partners, and I knew she would pack up and leave when I was ready, but I wanted her to be excited about it. I needed her enthusiasm because, without it, she could resent me later. So, the next morning, as she began to stir, I asked if she had any plans.

"I was gonna ask if you did," she said between a big yawn.

I smiled, happy to receive a green light, and moved some stray hairs away from her face.

"I do. I want to show you San Sequoia."

"Okay!"

She got up immediately and hopped into the shower. After we ate breakfast, we gathered the dogs and headed out to the Celebration Center. I was determined to be a better tour guide this time around.

"San Sequoia is a great place for families," I began. "And this neighborhood is the hub. It's called Gilbert Gardens, and I love it here."

She glanced around, taking it all in.

"It's pretty here."

"This place is like a community hangout spot. They've got something to build just about any skill you can name for all ages."

"Wow! That's so important. Is this an affluent area? You usually only see learning centers in nicer areas."

"From what I've learned, San Sequoia is a very diverse city, economically and socially. I personally have experienced the latter."

She nodded, satisfied with my answers, but the lake stole her attention.

"I just want to jump in there. I haven't been swimming in so long. My body is calling for it!"

"Swimming is allowed! And the weather is warm most of the year, so you could come here literally anytime you want."

I saw a sparkle in her eyes and knew that was the moment she saw herself in San Sequoia. My tour was successful, and she hadn't seen the best parts yet, so I kept going.

"That's the spa I told you about over there. They've got everything and-"

"Oh look at this," she shouted in the middle of my sentence. "This is the cutest, biggest splash park I've ever seen! We've gotta bring our kids here!"

That last part made me feel all warm inside, but I didn't want to give myself away yet, so I demoted my smile to a slight smirk.

"We will."

We walked around the lake, and I told her about the track. And of course I took her to the Arboretum and told her of the trail. I could tell she was eager for more, but we had another place to go. Next, we headed to what I hoped would become our new neighborhood. We strolled leisurely through the streets, hand in hand, looking at houses, making sure our dogs didn't wander too far. The back of the neighborhood, where the Michaels' lived, ended at the water. The closer we got, the faint smell of salt in the air got stronger. Like many cities, San Sequoia had its signature architecture, and many of the houses looked the same. But each one had its own unique characteristic, whether it was a garden or a cozy porch or even tacky stuff in the yard. All the homes comprised the tight-knit community I longed to be part of again.

"This is Hopewell Hills, my old neighborhood."

"That's a nice name. I see why you love it here so much. It's so quiet!"

I grinned in pride for San Sequoia never disappointed. As we rounded the corner, the salty tang of the ocean permeated the air, and my heart began to race because it was almost showtime. I wasn't nervous at all, but my excitement ate me up inside. With our destination just steps away, I created a diversion to set up my production. I slowed my pace and walked toward the marina, which had the most magnificent, unobstructed view of the bridge.

"This is my favorite spot in the neighborhood," I said.

The bridge stood there, tall and majestic, proclaiming to all who gazed upon it, "THIS is San Sequoia!"

"Woooow! It looks so close, like you could swim to it," she said.

"You can't get any closer without being in Anchorpoint Wharf."

I casually turned around to face the house we'd been standing in front of.

"I love this house, too. I ran by here every day, imagining what it would be like to live there and watch the sky change colors at sunset on the porch."

"That sounds amazing. And this house is beautiful, Luca. Is it empty?"

"Sure is."

She left me to walk around and peek in the windows. I watched her for a little while, hoping she saw something she liked.

"I want to buy this house," I confessed finally.

She ceased her exploration and came back to me with a look of concern.

"It's so big! Can we afford it?"

I guess after living in a tiny house for as long as she did, most houses seemed large to her. To me, it was the perfect size, with no wasted rooms or cramped spaces.

"Probably not," I replied. "But we can figure it out....make a plan."

Worry still radiated off her face, but that's just how she rolled.

"But...can your SimTube money really handle this?"

I grabbed her hands.

"It might take some time, but I think we can do it. Whatever it takes, I'll figure it out. One day, it'll be me and you sitting on the porch watching the sunset. I'll build get my dad to build that treehouse for our kids. Rosie will run around this neighborhood and Kooper will chill on the porch watching her."

She laughed, but her eyes began to water.

"Ha ha! I think that's what they're doing now. Gosh, Luca! You're an excellent salesman! I want all of that right now!"

"I do too. That's really why I brought you here today. I love you, Sophia. I've loved you for a really long time, whether or not I knew it. You're the only woman who could get me to this point. And you're the only woman I'd want any of that with. We've been tiptoeing around marriage and starting a family. It's something you've been wanting and waiting for. And I just want you to know...I want it too. All of it. And I'm ready and want to give it to you. Sophia, will you marry me?"

"OH MY WATCHER! OH MY WATCHER!!!"

I wished I could snapshot that moment. She was so adorably shocked. It amazed me that she didn't catch on, but I was delighted to see her sincerely surprised.

"YES!!!! Of course I will!! Oh, Lucaaaa!!"

The ring dazzled her immediately after she took it and put it on. I was so happy she liked it because I knew nothing about jewelry and didn't ask for help. But as soon as I laid eyes on it, I knew it was the perfect one.

"Awwwww it's a heart-shaped diamond! It's so beautiful!"

"We're getting married, Luca!!"

"I can't wait."

#ISBI challenge #sims 4 story #sims 4 gameplay #adolting #adolting gen 3 #luca winston murillo #sophia aguilar #rosie #kooper

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linkspooky · 1 year ago

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CHOUJIN X, CHAPTER 41 HYENA

Hello, it's time to cover the climactic battle and rescue of Palma a recently introduced character who will probably turn out to be a major player considering the sheer amount of time that has been spent on this battle. This is also the first time we've seen the trio truly work together in a fight since they got separated before the time skip so there's a lot of interesting character and thematic moments to dig in here.

I think if there's any central statement that Ishida is trying to get across in this long drawn out fight scene it's that old cliche.

GOOD INTENTIONS LEAD TO HELL.

Tokio's mentor Sato reminds him of this. While he is trying to make Tokio into the successor of Sandek because of this heroic and selfless attitude he has, he's also the ahrshest critic of that same attitude. That no matter how hard he fights, or how beautiful the path he walks, or what his ideals are intentions are not outcomes.

The power of choices is a common theme in Ishida's works, often used with a railroad motif at the same time. We are capable of making choices, we are capable at switching tracks at critical junctions too, but oftentimes there are unforeseen consequences for our choices and because of that no matter how much you overthink a choice it at times feels like you've been railroaded into an unexpected result. There is always a choice and always a consequence, and sometimes these things aren't fair or just or logical.

Azuma makes a pretty clear reference to the train tracks monologue in Tokyo Ghoul when he's going to fight the scissor choujin to try and rescue Tokio. In both cases protagonists make a wrong choice that they are then locked into for different reasons. Kaneki correctly understands that Furuta might raid his home base, but instead of splitting his forces appropriately goes alone.

Azuma similiarly is told he can't handle fighting against a Choujin and to stay out of it, and goes anyway. In Azuma's case he's told straight up to his face that his intentions aren't as noble as he makes them out to be. Did he want to save Tokio because he wants to be the kind of person who save others, or did he just want to test himself because he thought being put in life threatening danger would activate his choujin powers?

The road to hell is paved with good intentions can mean two things, number one good intentions don't always lead to good results or number two people's good intentions aren't always as good as they make themselves out to be.

Tokio post timeskip is so far shown to be true to his good nature. However, he is an Ishida protagonist and Ishida doesn't really write straightforward heroes. There is a similarity between the two scenes as I mention, Azuma and Tokio both willingly choose to charge into fights that are far out of their depths and they're warned beforehand that while sitting and doing nothing might seem crueler it also might be the smarter choice and they might make things worse by intervening. Tokio is told that he was the one who asked to take the lead on this Opium operation and now he might throw it all away to save a random stranger by charging in with no backup.

When Tokio is fighting he's able to hear Palma's cries for help in her chaosified state because of their shared connection to Zora's blood and we see he is forcibly flashing back to critical moments of his life. The scene on his beach where he made the decision to leave his life and friends behind for one year and devote himself entirely to training. The memorial for the dead he left behind in his final battle where he beat the tyrannical choujin yes, but lost most of his allies.

The text are Palma's thoughts, but they are probably things Tokio highly identifies with because they're things he's said in his personal narrative before (I want to be stronger, I want to smarter, why am I weak? i can't anymore? Why? I can't give up) something that has even appeared to us in his internal dialogue right before the timeskip.

Palma is lamenting her fate, how weak, useless and helpless she feels and how it feels like nothing she did amounted to anything and begging for help while at the same time succumbing to her berserk state. Part of me wonders if Tokio is overinvested in saving Palma not because of some higher mind heroic goal, but because number one a year later he's still stuck with the feelings of uselessness he had on the beach from watching everyone fight and die for his sake. He's stuck with the idea that if he does not do everything on his own from now on that he'll revert to his old useless self.

Is Tokio trying so hard and so recklessly to save Palma because it's the right thing to do? Is he doing it because their psychic link makes him project his own feelings of uselessness and helplessness onto her? Is it survivor's guilt from all the people he couldn't save in Iwato?

Is it because Tokio like Kaneki hates being made to feel weak or useless so at moments like this he will act on his own and act recklessly so he can pretend he's in control. I think these chapters in general are setting up more for Tokio's character, at least to add a level of complexity because really importantly if Azuma had not shown up when he did Tokio would have completely lost.

It's also narratively interesting to me how this scene compares to when Azuma charged in blindly to save Tokio from the scissor choujin when he was warned against it. In that case Azuma's good intention truly did lead to hell because he got the worst result possible. Not only was he brutally cut in half and didn't succeed in helping Tokio at all, but he also turned into a Choujin and immediately brutally attacked the person he was trying to save. Azuma wanted Choujin powers too but when he awakens he's immediately told he's dangerous and needs to control himself.

Things just don't work out for Azuma narratively. That's always been the case since the beginning. The things Azuma wants get just kind of dropped into Tokio's lap. Tokio has more potential as a Choujin. Tokio awakens first. Tokio has spent years slacking off unlike Azuma who was a martial arts prodigy and overachiever, and in just one year of hard work Tokio has far surpassed Azuma. Tokio is Sato's star pupil, while Sato remarks to Azuma's face that Yamato Mori's quality of peace keepers is on the decline. Tokio is put in charge of a large operation when he speaks up against his superiors, whereas Azuma's attitude is keep your head down and listen to your superiors and he remains in relatively the same place.

Tokio is the protagonist so the story moves forward with him and it's about his growth, whereas Azuma is continually frustrated by both his lack of mobility and lack of growth. SO in this scenario where Tokio and Azuma basically do the same thing, run in to fight without backup Azuma's ends with this horrific scene of him turning against his best friend and even losing his status as "Tokio's hero" while Tokio gets to fly off into the sunset with Palma.

I'm not saying Azuma deserves better anything, I'm just observing that things work out for Tokio and they don't really work out for Azuma. Tokio keeps movig forward while Azuma stays in place and is oftentimes left behind. That's what Azuma long suspected and feared that if Tokio put the effort in that not only would he be on Azuma's level, but he'd be much higher than him.

It's why Azuma freaks out on Ely for not taking his side in the conflict between him and Tokio. In Azuma's mind at least everything he wants, Tokio just already has. Ely doesn't mind that Tokio ditched her for a year because she's more relaxed about those kinds of things. Not only is Azuma more sensitive he's also known Tokio for all of his life as opposed to Ely who only met him recently. From Azuma's point of view though the connection he's built up with Ely for the past year as her partner means almost nothing because he thinks she's naturally siding with Tokio, because Azuma fears Tokio's just naturally better. That there's something internally missing in Azuma that Tokio has and that fear makes him play stupid high school games with Ely. "Well, why are you on his side? You're supposed to be on my side" he yells in the middle of an important mission even though hes supposed to be the most mature and goal oriented member of the main cast.

Of course, there's the fact that Tokio didn't save the day in this situation because of anything he did specifically, besides making the decision to save Palma and not give up on that even when things were looking bad. No the day was saved because Azuma and Ely showed up and they were only there because Azuma considered Palma suspicious and was following up on a lead he established beforehand. It's Azuma's detectivework that brought them there, and luck to salvage things after they went south and Tokio wasn't strong enough to handle it, not anything Tokio did specifically.

It's still a pattern though Tokio tends to get good outcomes, and Azuma tends to make choices that lead to bad ones. I'm curious as to why this is though I don't think it's going to settle on a simple answer like Tokio good, Azuma bad.

Sato's heavy emphasis on "good intentions lead to hell" makes me think that the happy ending to this chapter mini-arc might get the rug pulled out of it at a later event. Palma turns into a hyena, and Azuma had a lot of connections to hyena symbolism early on in the manga.

Something tells me we might get a scene like this with Azuma and Palma at a later point, that the happy ending with Palma now might somehow lead to a tangled tragedy in the future. It might even be a romantic thing, because Azuma's jealousy over his perception that Ely is taking Tokio's sides has shades of romantic jealousy and possessiveness to it too. I'll talk about this theory more when I'm analyzing all the reveals in the next chapter though.

#cx meta #choujin x meta #choujin x #azuma higashi #tokio tsunashi #ely otta

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zegrvshvghes · 2 years ago

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Coach-MK23

I am genuinely in love with this man and i always will be. Also there’s not a large age gap between these two it’s like 2-3 years but it seems like a lot.

As a female hockey coach, I knew firsthand the challenges that came with the job. But when Matthew Knies showed up on the ice, I never expected the challenges to come from within.

At first, I saw him as just another player. But as he began to excel on the ice, I couldn't help but take notice of his talent and determination. There was something about him that caught my attention and made me want to learn more about him.

As the weeks went on, I found myself looking forward to our training sessions more and more. We talked about hockey, life, and everything in between. I began to see him as more than just a player, but as a person with his own challenges and goals.

It wasn't until one particularly grueling practice that I saw a vulnerability in him that I never expected. I could see the frustration and exhaustion in his eyes, and I knew that he needed support. Without thinking, I put my hand on his shoulder and told him that he was doing a great job.

And that was it. In that moment, everything changed. I could feel my heart race as I looked into his eyes. I saw something there that I had never seen before. And as the ice melted around us, I knew that I was falling in love with Matthew.

I tried to push the feelings aside, to keep things professional between us. But it became increasingly difficult as the season went on. We spent more and more time together, and I found myself cringing at the thought of leaving the rink without seeing him.

Then one night, after a game, he asked me out. It was as if he read my mind. We walked to a nearby corner store, and picked up a couple of snacks and drinks, I found myself telling him everything as we sat in his car. I told him about my fears and dreams, my successes and failures. And he listened, really listened, as if he cared about every word that came out of my mouth.

And as the night came to an end, we sat in silence for a quick moment and he leaned over the center console to kiss me. In that moment, I forgot about everything else. The world melted away, and all I could think about was him.

Over the next few weeks, we fell deeper and deeper in love. We spent hours talking on the phone, going on dates, and of course, practicing hockey. It was as if we were the only two people in the world, caught up in our own little world of love and hockey.

But as the season came to an end, we knew that we would have to part ways. He would be off to the NHL, and I would be coaching the next team. It was heartbreaking, but we promised each other that we would do everything in our power to stay in touch.

And that's just what we did. We talked online, sent each other care packages, and cheered each other on from a distance.

Years have passed since those days on the ice, but I still think about Matthew Knies often. We've both moved on to new chapters in our lives, but I know that the love we had will always be a part of who we are. And in my heart, I know that he will always be my favorite player, and my first love.

Although we were miles apart, we still managed to see each other. Matthew would come home from college during the holidays and we would catch up over dinner. Sometimes we would go to the rink and the memories would flood back in, reminding us of where we started.

It wasn't until a few years ago that I got the chance to see him play again. He had made it to the NHL and was playing for the leafs in Toronto. I went to see him play a few games and it was amazing to see him out on the ice, doing what he loved.

After the game, he invited me to the locker room to meet some of his teammates. They were all surprised to see me, the coach that Matthew had spoken so much about. I could feel the pride and admiration radiating from him as he introduced me to everyone.

That night, as we walked around the city as we had done the first time we’d been alone, I couldn't help but feel a sense of completeness. Even though we had been apart for so long, there was still a connection between us. We talked about everything that had happened over the years, catching up on all the details.

As the night came to an end, I realized that Matthew had never really left my heart. He was always there, from the beginning and even now, years later. And even though we lived in different states, we still managed to keep our connection strong.

Today, Matthew has retired from professional hockey and has settled down with his family. We still talk online and send each other Christmas cards. But even though we have moved on with our lives, I know that there will always be a part of me that will remember the amazing journey we had together.

Matthew Knies will always be the young player that stole my heart on the ice, the one that taught me that love can come from anywhere and that anything is possible.

#matthew knies #toronto #leafs #nhl #hockey #knies #matthew x reader #matthew knies x reader

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marshmallowloves · 6 months ago

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*SLAMS IN HERE* CICI PLS 🏝️ and 🍨 AND MAYBE 🏖️ FOR YOU AND BOTW LINK! Pls I would LOVE to see how you and Link enjoy Hyrule together in the summertime!!!

~ @princess-hope-selfships 💖

OKAY hi Hope yes hello my lovely friend. I know you said BOTW Link but. I think the only time we'd get to enjoy a fun summertime would be in the couple years gap between BOTW and TOTK asfhshf (<-- not me adoring both versions of him and compromising accordingly KGHDJF) so that's the window of time I'm gonna go with here.

Also, it's canon that Zelda lives in Link's Hateno house during that time, but I don't think it was ever stated whether or not he also lived there…?? Even though he bought the dang thing??? It's a little confusing djfh but for the sake of this post, I'm making it so that just Link and Koci live together in his Hateno house after BOTW (like I always pictured they would). OKAY MOVING ON fjfhdjg

also sorry this was late, I had to do a lot of stuff after you sent this, and then think of these responses and it kind of took a long time kdjfg sorry they are very long I am also very sleepy so I hope it's written okay

🏝️ - do you like to go on vacations or would you rather stay at home?

So… we've never really taken a… "vacation," I think. If you mean like, for the whole summer…? It would be neat, and I'd love to bring Link to stay for a while in the Korok Forest sometime - it's really pretty in the summer! But he and Princess Zelda sometimes spend a lot of time helping rebuild lately, so I dunno if we'd really be able to go anywhere and just relax for the whole season… I know it's important work, and I think they probably shouldn't be too far from where they're needed.

But if you're just talking for maybe a few days or a week at a time or something, then… Hm… I'd really like to go to Lurelin Village again sometime. Last time we went, we didn't really get to enjoy it since…well, we had a lot to do, still…

I think it's still nice even when we stay at home, though. If it's too hot outside, Link and I hang out in the house and open up the windows. It's really nice getting to sit inside the shade but still feel the warm wind coming through the house. Sometimes it reminds me a little of my room at home in the forest…

But hey, you know what, it's cause we stay at home on those days that we figured out something really cool!! Link still has some stuff from when we were traveling that can make ice. And if you take that ice, and you smash it up really good, and then you squeeze fruit juice into it… it's SUPER tasty, especially when it's hot out~

…but, um, don't tell anyone else about that please. I dunno how much ice Link has in store and we REALLY like eating this stuff… I'm only telling you 'cause you're my friend!

🍨 - what kind of summer dates do you guys go on? do you have a favorite?

I think…maybe "date" means something else to most people. Like the kind you see in books and stuff, right…?

Even though Link and I decided we wanted to be… um…together a while ago… we never really had a lot of personal time to spend together like that before, 'cause we both had our jobs to do and there just…wasn't really time for that.

But the worst of that is over now, and we can spend a lot more time doing what we want. On nice warm days when we're not busy, we take walks across the village, or go pick out a spot in the woods nearby to sit and have a meal, and sometimes when it's a little hotter we cool off in the nearby pond for a little bit. I…guess that's what you'd call a date, but I never really saw it like that, I think. It's just…we get to spend time together now.

There was one time we went back to Hyrule Castle to help with relief and spent a few nights camping nearby. Link and I walked through one of the gardens, or…what was left of it, really. It was…kinda nostalgic actually… I saw him there once, a little after we first met and I was allowed to stay in the castle. He was training all that morning and I guess he went there to rest. I was still pretty nervous to talk to him, 'cause I knew how important his role was when he took the Master Sword… He didn't say much when he saw me, but he let me sit next to him and we just sort of…stayed there for a bit, enjoying the sun and the air…

… Oh... I got a little distracted. Sorry… Um… anyway, one of my little siblings happened to be nearby while Link and I were looking through the rubble, and showed us some of the soil that was still good. They gave us some seeds and helped us plant them there. It was a small thing, but it still felt…special, helping to make something new after everything that had happened. And…not just the plants. I don't think he remembers that day in the garden, since it was before his restorative sleep… so we were making a new memory, too.

I think maybe that one was my favorite.

🏖️ - what's your favorite beach activity?

For the longest time I didn't know if Link even liked beaches much. There were some nights, back when the Champions were still here, where we would stop to rest for the night and it just happened to be near a beach. And even when I would run in the sand to tire myself out or show him cool stuff me and Rina found, or even when Daruk or Mipha would walk down the shore with us sometimes, Link would usually just stay near the fire and never did anything with us.

I figured maybe it was just 'cause he had his job to do as the Princess's knight, so there wasn't really room for him to enjoy the beach like anyone else would. But even after I started seeing more of his personality outside of his duty, he still didn't do much but sit and stare out at the ocean…so I thought maybe he just didn't like beaches.

But ever since we settled down after Ganon was defeated, Link's had a lot more time to really enjoy himself and not worry as much. And I'm learning that he actually likes all sorts of stuff about the beach! (Sorry, I know that took a long time to give you an answer!!) Whenever we visit one of the beaches near here, I usually see him trying to catch crabs and fish, climbing the palm trees for the fruit, and just hanging out in the water…and he always looks like he's having a great time while he does it, which I'm really happy about!

I usually like to stay and play in the sand, 'cause I'm…actually not really a fan of swimming at the beach. I dunno what it is, maybe it's 'cause the ocean is so big, and it's kind of intimidating… or cause sometimes I feel a fish on my leg and it freaks me out. Link's had to convince me a few times to at least come in the shallow waters, especially on the hot days… and I guess it's not so bad when he's right there. But I'd definitely still rather lay in the warm sun and look for neat shells and rocks~

(…it's also nice to see him right after he gets out of the water and the sun is on his skin… wait what. I didn't say that)

#I got carried away with this i'm sorry--#goodness I haven't thought about Link in a minute. maybe it's time to do that again ASDJFH #thank you for the ask though. this was good for my thinking muscles kdfjg #Link #Koci #Wild Child #ask game #Hope

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charlesandmiranda · 11 months ago

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Asakusa Adventures part one:

2/1 dinner with friends and 2/2 Senso-ji Temple

After leaving Ochanomizu, Charles and I took the train to Asakusa, our next stop in Tokyo. We had dinner plans to meet with a friend and her family that night, and we planned to explore the area the following day (which is yesterday, at the time of writing!)

Our friend, Penko, her husband As'maria, and two sons took us to Asakusa Ichimon, which is a super traditional restaurant. It was featured in the movie Shin Ultraman which came out in 2022, and Charles really wanted to visit it as a film location, but before we could even mention it to her, she was already suggesting that we should all go together, and so we did!

The interior was amazing, I wish we had taken more photos. Taking photos inside establishments can sometimes be difficult, privacy is much more significant of a cultural consideration than in the US and we don't want to take photos of other patrons. It was a lot of gorgeous, dark wood, short, low to the ground tables, tatami mats, and floor chairs. There was a super zen, indoor water feature too, which was pretty cool, to put it mildly.

I don't even begin to know how to describe how tasty the food was; there was a huge menu of sakes (Japanese style alcohol, think sort of like a "rice wine" even though that's not strictly accurate) and shochu (more like a liquor), almost all, if not all of which, we'd never seen before in the states. The entire meal was a like...5 course experience, starting with a small appetizer of fruit, tofu, fish egg and beans (in honor of the Setsubun holiday, which is today [2/3] at time of writing!) all the way to a hot pot of tuna, leek, mushrooms and more. Genuinely everything was like, beyond delicious, and it was sooooo much food, without ever making us feel like we were totally gonna pop (although it was close). There was also a beef dish mid meal that was the first beef Charles had eaten in close to two decades, and it was worth it.

It was also really really special to get to spend the time getting to know Penko and her family better; I first met her here on tumblr actually, maybe....gosh, I don't know, 8 years ago? give or take a year? through a mutual fandom (we were both fans of a specific pairing in a video game called Danganronpa, where she was a very popular fan-artist at the time). Since then, we've met her in Japan a few times on trips, and we've slowly gotten to know her family over the last few years. After our engagement, Penko actually drew some lovely art for us as a congratulations; if you were at our wedding, we had it displayed near our guestbook :P

The following day, we spent exploring around our Airbnb in Asakusa, as well as visiting Tokyo Skytree. Our stay was on the second floor, above a restaurant, right in the heart of the district.

We started the morning early at Cafe Royal, a super old-school Showa-era coffee shop built in the early 1960s. We had coffees and breakfast there, and their specialty Royal Coffee has to have been one of the best coffees I've ever had. It almost reminded me of dark chocolate in terms of its acidity and smoothness. It was truly awesome.

Afterwards, we spent some time shopping at Uniqlo, a Japanese clothing store (there are some in the states too, if you're curious!) My favorite pair of jeans ripped badly on the plane, and I wanted to replace them, so I bought a new pair at Uniqlo, as well as some of their warm layering clothing, which they're well known for, to stave off the February chill. Charles also got some warm winter wear, so we're both totally topped off for the rest of the trip with trendy heat-tech goodies.

We also wandered around the streets and streets and STREETS of Asakusa's extensive shopping and food district surrounding the massive, gorgeous Senso-ji temple. One thing I love about Japan is that these huge shopping districts often have covered roofs over the streets so even if it's raining or kinda crappy weather, you can still walk freely across blocks without too much trouble. We were mostly window shopping, but we definitely stopped for a few treats.

From there, we headed to Tokyo Skytree, stay tuned for our next post!

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harmonyckrs · 9 months ago

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DAY 5 in Twisted Strangetown: The One in Control

THE PREVIOUS DAY

Today marks the second day of staying with the Curious brothers in order to ease Pascal's worries. Due to this, we've had limited contact with the General, but I will assume that Boss has been able to resume communication with him.

My observations of the Smiths is that they are just normal (bruh). Further observation is needed. There's nothing particularly off putting about them that isn't any more off-putting about everyone else (you spent a whole day observing them with and your conclusion was this? This is why Ajay likes me more LOL). I admit it was nice to see other people with alien descent, though I wasn't a huge fan of the General talking about how all aliens were evil before proceeding to call Chloe and I "the exception." He was quite apologetic when he realized it offended me, however. I suppose he still has a lot to unlearn in regards to his alien biases.

I also overheard Pascal and Lazlo discussing a conversation they over heard Chloe having with Vidcund's kidnapper and her fuming over the riddle that he gave her in order to meet up with him in person. We've come to the conclusion that it might be an art museum, but it'll take some time to figure out which one. Either way, Chloe's recklessness may cause some hardships later (seriously? It ain't that big of a deal). We'll have to claim that the kidnapper was simply just trying to reach out to whichever family member will listen. Hopefully they will buy it.

C: So how's the subject doing, Aktu?

A: His name is Vidcund, and he's doing fine. I explained everything to him, and I think he's starting to cooperate. How are you feeling?

C: Really tired. And my head still hurts, but I'm sure it'll be gone in some time. What happened to the hat you always wore with that suit?

A: Dropped it by accident.

C: You realize that they could track you with that, right?

A: They couldn't even figure out my riddle! I don't think they're smart enough to use my hat to trace me here.

C: Figuring out who a hat belongs to through collecting DNA from it and solving a riddle require two different skills. They probably have your name already.

A: Well, I...fuck.

C: Just lay low for a while, and don't do anything stupid. If he's calm enough, you can probably just let him go and give him one of the rings we have that'll keep him immune to mind control.

A: Are you sure? We only have so many of those.

C: Yeah. I'm sure he cares about his family, right? We can use him as our mole with the promise of helping the rest of his family.

A: Good point! I'll give that to him as soon as I can.

C: Good. I don't want to use up too much battery on this hologram machine, so I'm going to end our call here. Just remember what I said...

THE NEXT DAY

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BONUS:

ENERGY: 25%

I don't remember feeling this awful since having to leave Strangetown 20 years ago.

I was just a teenager! What was I thinking, going up against one of the most powerful people in all of Strangetown? And what was [REDACTED] thinking, fighting a fourteen year old for power? For the sake of the Watcher, I'm just a colony drone! I'm not powerful like the Birth Queens or Pollination Technicians!

And that's why I need to keep training. If I won that fight, then everyone would've been safe from [REDACTED]. And maybe I wouldn't feel as though they're always watching, even when we're miles away.

ENERGY: 50%

A: The weather is pretty nice today. Do you want to go outside?

V: Aren't I a hostage?

A: You're a test subject, not a hostage. Plus, you're really far from Strangetown, and Cyd and I have connections in all of Bluewater village from getting rid of the other guy who used to live here.

V: Makes sense. Who was the other guy?

A: Oh, nobody important. Think his name was, like, Malcolm Lemongrab or something. I forgot.

V: Malcolm LANDGRAAB? The heir to the richest family in the world?

A: Oh, shoot! You know him? That explains why the police came by with all those annoying questions. Cyd had to pretend to be Malcolm over the phone and act like he got abducted by aliens in order to get them to go away!

V: ...You're the worst criminal ever.

A: Well, it's my first time. So is that a yes or a no on the outing?

V: Eh, sure. Why not?

ENERGY: 75%

As I'm forced to remain in bed to recharge, I think about [REDACTED] and what they did. A part of me wonders what they have to gain from altering everyone's personalities. Power? Some sense of superiority that they have the ability to control everyone there? Fear of being discriminated against?

No matter. Once Aktu and I are done with this experiment, we'll be able to find a way to release Strangetown from the control of [REDACTED]. Peace will be restored, and Porthos and I can finally rest knowing that we've completed our mission.

ENERGY CHARGED: 100%

I think I'm ready to meet that subject now! What was his name again...Vincent or something? Ah, I'll figure it out.

Either way, it's a step closer to freeing Strangetown from [REDACTED]'s control.

#ts2 #strangetown with a twist #lola curious #cyd roseland

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ryqoshay · 1 year ago

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How to Handle a Nico - How to Handle a Chilly Walk

Primary Pairing: NicoMaki Words: 537 Rating: G Time Frame: Early adulthood, Nico owns an idol protection company and Maki is working through her residency Prompt: Chill

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Author's Note: Bonus 2nd entry for the 16th

Summary: Nico and Maki head home after their picnic

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Nico shivered.

Maki pulled her fiancée closer.

Nico smiled at the unexpected, but much appreciated act of public affection.

The couple had just finished what would likely be their last picnic of the year. Even if the weather took an unexpected turn and warmed up for a little while longer, it was unlikely the two could align their schedules for so much time together in one day.

After eating, the two had spent a good couple hours just lying in the sun, talking, and enjoying each other’s company. Both had gotten a lot of mileage out of teasing one another over the topic of Nico’s dream earlier that week in which Maki had turned into a monster over forgotten tomatoes. Today, said tomatoes had been remembered, and a live reenactment of the nightmare had been avoided.

Now, the couple was heading home. Clouds had unexpected rolled in and blotted out the sun, causing the temperature to drop. Thus, why Nico was now cold, even with the extra layers she had brought.

"Oh, there is a sweet potato stand." Maki pointed out.

"I'll be making dinner when we get home." Nico replied.

"Yes, but it will help take the chill off until we reach the train." Maki insisted. "And we can split one, like we did in high school."

"And college."

"And many other times since."

"I think we've always split them," Nico reaized "even when we end up getting two."

"Mm." Maki hummed.

Nico smiled as memories of shared sweet potatoes filled her mind. At first it had been a little awkward. But then it became a habit. And now it was second nature to the point that doing elsewise would feel strange. Not all that much unlike their relationship in general.

Maki made her purchase, split it in half, and handed one piece to Nico.

"Thanks, Maki-chan." Nico said, relishing the warmth on her hands as she held the delicious autumn treat.

The couple continued their walk to the station in comfortable quiet until they reached the station.

“Mm, hot lemon tea…” Nico found herself drawn to the vending machine in the station. “Want one too, Maki-chan? My treat since you got the sweet potato.”

“Actually, if they have coffee…” Maki searched the selection.

“Yeah, but probably not the quad espressos Maki-chan likes.” Nico smirked pushing the button for her tea.

“I’m not in cram school any more…” Maki muttered.

“Yeah, but you still stay up too late sometimes with doctor stuff.”

“Maybe…” Maki said, accepting the heated can of coffee. “Thank you.”

“Mmm… that’s good…” Nico said after a long sip. “But you know, as much as Nico loved the sweet potato and this tea, my favorite way to keep warm is still this.”

Nico let go of her can with one hand, reached over, pulled one of Maki’s hands off her can, then shoved both into one of the pockets of Maki’s jacket. She then smiled as she watched red creep across Maki’s face. The blush deepened, but Maki was the one to then intertwine their fingers.

“This… is nice…” Maki admitted after a moment.

Nico’s smile grew and she stepped even closer to her fiancée as they waited for their train to arrive.

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Author's Note Continued: Some nice and warm NicoMaki fluff to counter the chill of the season here in the States where I am, as well as Japan where they are.

#NicoMaki #Nishikino Maki #Yazawa Nico #How to Handle a Nico #Love Live #fanfics #Promptober 2023

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genericpuff · 5 months ago

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Very personal response, as someone who was right in that middle grey area of Millennial and Gen Z, I can attest to the loss of rewatch value for movies, and even shows and games, as a consequence of streaming services. I'm old enough to remember growing up with landline phones and VHS tapes and DVDs and home videos, but also young enough that I was still in middle school when the iPhone first released. I distinctly remember my big brother buying me a copy of The Wind Waker on Gamecube when I was like 7 years old (still one of my favorite memories, love you big bro) but also remember being 13-14 and getting the pants scared off me watching the first few episodes of Marble Hornets at my best friend's house on a much smaller version of Youtube, before the days of content creators, social media influencers, and Raid: Shadow Legends sponsorships. I remember learning how to draw from books like How to Draw Pokemon and How to Draw Disney Princesses that I got at school book fairs and book orders, but also from anime bases and tutorials on DeviantArt and RateMyDrawings.

And I can confidently say that the replay value of films and movies and games and entertainment media in general is one of the biggest things we've lost in the advent of streaming services. When I was a kid in a low income household that liked to play video games, I only had the games that I owned, meaning I'd often be replaying games from my limited collection that slowly built up over the course of many birthdays and Christmas seasons. If there was a game I really wanted to play but couldn't wait until Christmas or my birthday to get - or maybe it was on a console I didn't own - I'd have to rely on whoever I was friends with at school to either play it with them at their house, or trade one of my own games with theirs (this is actually how I wound up owning my Gamecube copy of Tales of Symphonia, which I loved so much that I kept borrowing it from my friend at school, until he finally just let me keep it years later as a gift because he wasn't interested in beating it and knew I'd get more fun out of it, thanks Edmund LOL). And when that all failed? Welp, guess it's time to crack open the bag of games that I have and see what I'm willing to replay. Half the time I wouldn't even actually progress the game, I'd just fuck around in the overworld making my own stories. Many hours I've spent riding around Hyrule Field on Epona and visiting towns to talk to the NPC's in Sylvarant.

And hoo boy, did this make the experience of buying new games a whole ass event. If you were lucky, you'd get a new game on Christmas or your birthday, in which case the worst of your waiting would be getting through the festivities until everyone left so you could hole yourself up in your room with your new copy of Pokemon Colosseum. If you were unlucky, you would get the chance to buy a game from the actual game store an hour away in the city, but then you'd have to be stuck in the car and god knows where else your parents dragged you while re-reading the instruction manual for Kingdom Hearts 2 cover-to-cover and begging them to just take you home already, what the hell do you mean we're staying for the weekend at dad's friend's place-

And yeah, this was often the case with movies too, we only had the movies we owned, oftentimes on VHS tapes in a box in the basement that we would dig through when the DVD's we owned weren't cutting it. There are movies that I'm still sick of despite my fond memories of them because we'd watch them back to back just to make the time pass, especially during summer vacation when school was out and there was nothing to fill the day with besides whatever entertainment we could make for ourselves. We had a couple family friends who knew their way around a computer and were able to pirate and burn DVD's for us, but that always came with video quality that would jump from high to low, and hilarious audio glitches that almost trained us to expect them in clean versions of the film when rewatching it years later, just for us to go "oh yeah, that was a bootleg copy of Hancock, the music isn't supposed to suddenly blip out and then blip back in during the credits". Other than that, there were rental spaces, but growing up in the sticks meant the selection of rental films was limited to whatever was available at the nearby family-run gas station and the library.

If any of this resonates with you, and you now find yourself in the position I do where you're more than willing to rewatch the same movies and shows you watched as a kid but find yourself completely uninterested and almost disconnected from the sensationalized artificial hype created by studios and streaming services like Marvel and Disney and Amazon, well let me assure you, you're not alone, it's not just you. Yes, we are getting old. Yes, we are experiencing much of the same disillusionment that our parents did and their parents did that comes from simply growing older. This is unavoidable.

But it's absolutely also still worth discussing the consequences of these changes, because as it stands right now, much of that disillusionment is being sped up by the effects of the exponential technological growth and oversaturation of media around us. I'm sure this could very well be a flawed comparison, but it makes me think of the things that have managed to survive even to this day compared to the things that came around in the height of the technological boom of the mid-2000's - newspapers were around for centuries and still managed to survive the rise of radio and television until the advent of the Internet as a popular method of consumption around the mid-2000's which is when they were truly threatened to become obsolete... meanwhile streaming services as we know them today have been around for barely two decades and they're already failing, and that's nothing compared to the tech bros who are constantly coming up with new gimmicks and "miracle technology" like NFT's and AI which are often clung to immediately by corporations purely on the basis of hype and inflated promises, just to become financial black holes within a year that they then have to find sneaky ways to profit off of until something else comes along to fill their void for something "new and innovative".

Case in point, I'm not even thirty yet, I shouldn't already feel like I'm falling behind the way my parents did when they were in their 40's. That whole feeling of life being "over" at 25 isn't just psychological, it's being actively enabled by the titans of capitalism shifting the goalposts of how we interact with the world faster than ever before. I can absolutely still quote the entire script of Shrek as it's happening onscreen, but I can't for the life of me remember a single video I watched while doomscrolling in bed last night.

And this HAS had its effects on art and media, because now movies and shows are simply hype-events that people consume and never touch again, never re-analyze, never rewatch with updated perspectives. You'd be shocked how many times I've rewatched old Spongebob episodes like Squid on Strike and Selling Out just to realize that Hillenburg himself knew what was up and was both empathizing and warning the adults of that time period what was happening in the creative industry - and now those episodes are still timeless and relatable even more than they were back then because we're now living in the exact reality that such episodes were trying to warn us about. Don't even get me started on films like Idiocracy which may as well now be a prophecy uttered by ancient gods that we should have probably paid more attention to.

This effect of turning art and media into mindless "content" is even bleeding into the smaller industries as well. Within my own special interest and experience, webcomics, a virtually endless library of indie media to enjoy that isn't gatekept by industry control, is now becoming controlled by corporate platforms which pump out cheap media that's trained people to value quantity over quality, oftentimes resulting in fanbases who barely even read what they're swiping through and will deadass forget the name and plot of the comic weeks after they've stopped seeing it in their reading lists. Many of those same readers will immediately get nervous as soon as anyone even mildly criticizes or questions the content that's being consumed, often jumping on the defensive with arguments like "you need to turn your brain off if you want to enjoy the story" and "stop thinking about it so hard" and "just let people enjoy things".

I don't know about you, but as a seasoned webcomic artist myself who loves engaging with discussion and discourse surrounding their favorite pieces of media, I'd be livid if I found out my readers were saying that shit about my own work. I want you to think about it. I want my work to get your brain moving. I want you to come up with your theories even if they're wrong. I want you to re-read and change your opinions and re-think your perspectives as you re-engage with the text with a new lens that changes both over time and over the course of reading the work in full. I want you to be capable of engaging in nuanced critical discussion and thought without it automatically becoming a polarizing battle between "fan and hater". I suppose I was born just a little too late to exist in the time period that allowed projects like my own weird convoluted "work for the lore" meta-commentary shit to exist without needing to maintain a company's bottom line. Instead, I was born just in time to exist in the world that's solely serving the "turn your brain off" population of consumers who don't even realize how much their senses and thought processes have been numbed by the effects of late-stage capitalism, with only the hope that maybe there will be a renaissance within my lifetime.

The disillusionment we feel from "what the kids are watching today" isn't just a symptom of getting older. It's a symptom of all of us - as a collective society, across all the generations - getting fucked by corporations bombarding our senses for profit.

Matt Damon explains why they don’t make movies like they used to. Pls watch.

#reblog #rant

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