#whats true. but last night i was trying to think of a metaphor for her and i and i did and i felt so genuinely inspired

[rodrickheffley]

she makes me want to write poetry wtfff

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Twenty-Two

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Minor character deaths. Major character injuries. Canon typical violence/graphic descriptions. Whoopdeedoo 9.2k words for you!

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

The lake lay flat and motionless as a mirror, like a pool of paint someone had spilled over grey stone. It extended past its dark borders, seeping into the ground beneath your feet and drenching the soil until it was thick as winter slush. You shivered just to stand in it. 

Ione stumbled on the soft, marshy ground of the southeast blindspot. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to winnowing. 

“Gods have mercy,” she swore beneath her breath, tugging at her cane from where it sank inches deep into the earth. There was a sucking sound as Ione gave another irritated pull.

Techaria allowed the woman to lean against her side, butterfly wings fluttering before turning invisible with a shiver of light. They attracted too much attention. 

You blinked up at her in surprise, forgetting the dread that had your stomach churning. Magic like that usually hailed from the Day Court, which meant your father had chosen her to accompany you. 

She shrugged noncommittally. “Helion had some say in deciding who would accompany you and Ione to the Continent. Everyone agreed I would be the best fit as someone familiar with both the Day and the Night Courts.”

You had dozens of questions you wanted to ask — how had she come to the Night Court? When did she join the ranks of the Valkyries, small in number as they were? What had possessed her to do such a thing? 

But those were questions for another day when you weren’t trying to keep your stomach contents from revolting and your racing heart in check. 

“Yes, that makes sense,” you agreed.

You gripped onto the straps of your pack, feeling the weight of two dozen siphons sitting within them. The plan was simple in nature, but would be difficult to execute — use Nesta as a distraction to lead Koschei away from the lake and give Ione enough time to unlock the power for herself. If your theory held true, the siphons would allow Ione to concentrate that power and destroy Koschei once and for all… at least that was the hope. 

Bone-pale trees stood in loose clusters all around and up to the water’s true edge, bracing themselves against one another like wounded soldiers trudging through mud. You tried to imagine they were protecting you as they’d protected Andrian. A fragile barrier against Koschei’s influence both physically and metaphorically. Thin as they were, they did what they could to cover your movements and you saw no evidence of the activities you knew were taking place across these lands. 

Some of the trees leaned out over the water with their pale, thin faces. Desperate to catch their own reflection in the inky stillness. Gray stones, round and smooth, filled the bottom of the lake, staring up like polished skulls through the brackish water. Or were they skulls after all? You couldn’t tell, although shadows appeared to look out through hollows that may have once been eyes. 

The ground rose on your left, curling out towards you like a brown wave. The trees that grew over the wave’s crest looked healthier, their skeletal branches managing to hold onto the last of their frost-bitten leaves on sturdier ground unspoiled by the water.

You breathed through your nose and gagged. The heady scent of rot and death choked the air, the stench inescapable no matter how you breathed. 

There was another sick smell creeping into the air. Something acrid, like chemicals set to flame in a flask. You tilted your head to the sky and gave a tentative sniff before frowning immediately. Whatever was causing the smell was close by. 

Techaria looked down first and swallowed a scream. Her boots, which had sunk into the soil up to her calves, were sizzling. 

Ione lifted her cane with a shaking hand and found the silver cap at its end similarly melting away. The metal smarted and popped off the wooden end, sinking into the ground and catching flame. 

The lake was alive and it was hungry. 

Techaria lunged forward, snatching the old woman around the waist and throwing her over her shoulder with a grunt. She took off towards higher ground, trusting that you would follow close behind. Not that you had much of a choice. You could either run or stand still and let your pearly white bones succumb to the lake’s magic. You rejected the latter option immediately.

You scrambled after them and with every step you felt the power of the lake seep closer and closer to your skin, begging to feast on the flesh of your bones. 

The harder you pushed, the deeper your feet sank into the ground until every step felt like a battle with the gaping maw of a fish.

All at once you understood what Bethsevah had meant when she had locked the power beneath the lake. There was something in those waters not altogether evil, but hateful nevertheless — some essence of Bethsevah’s magic that would destroy whatever it identified as its enemy. 

You were vaguely prideful and equally frustrated that your theories on magic as a biological system were proving true at every turn. You didn’t even know how you could quantify this for inclusion in your manuscript. 

Good thoughts, wrong time. You thought as you kept running. 

Techaria ran up the slope of the hill, digging her toes in before launching her body up by the strength of her back and catching onto a snarled claw of roots. For a split second, the roots threatened to snap and send both Techaria and Ione tumbling back down to the acidic mud. But Techaria made the final ascent, dropping Ione to the ground with little fanfare before she reached down for your hand. 

“Come on!” She hissed, too terrified to make more sound. 

There were ears and eyes in these woods. She could feel them blowing their foul breath against her neck. 

Something whistled in the sky as you clawed your way up the sloped ground. An unearthly glow shot across Techaria’s terrified features as she latched onto your arm and yanked you up to safety. You cried out in pain, your ankles nearly popping out of their joints as your feet came free of your shoes. 

Techaria rolled on top of you and slapped her hand over your lips hard enough to make your teeth rattle. 

“Be quiet and stay still.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. Techaria wove her magic around the three of you like a blanket, hiding you in plain sight just like she’d done with her wings.

Your breath caught in your chest when the source of the whistling came into view.  

It was Vassa.

She seemed to have doubled in size and strength — no more dreary feathers or patches of picked skin. She sailed close to the treetops, brushing her wings against the sparse foliage and setting them aflame with what could have been a screech or a laugh. 

Snapped branches, charred and crackling, rained over your head. 

“Is she gone?” Techaria asked moments later, her face still locked on your eyes as you took shuddering breaths.

You nodded stiffly and the female finally released her hold on you.

“Your shoes—”

You shook your head. You still had one sock on your left foot, but your right settled into the dirt and you felt every poke of detritus against the sensitive skin. Down below you caught glimpses of your leather boots bubbling in the soil. There was no salvaging them. 

“You can take mine.” Techaria offered, already bending down to undo the laces. 

“Don’t. They won’t fit me anyway.” They were burnt beyond recognition and hanging on by weak threads. “And from the looks of them they won’t stay intact for much longer no matter who’s wearing them.” 

But Ione was suspiciously unharmed. Her shoes were intact, as was the hemline of her cloak. The only item that seemed to have earned the lake’s ire was her cane. She waved it in the air, dispelling the smoke from its fuming end as if she were warding away evil.  

Curious. You thought. 

When you’d all caught your breath, you set out in search of safe ground closer to the water’s edge. You’d need easy access to its powers when the time came. Eventually you found your safe haven in the form of a willow hovering by a pool that bubbled out from the main lake. Its silvery sprays hung low, sparse and thin and sickly. But its roots held onto the soil well, keeping the ground firm and dry.

You pressed the palms of your hands into the ground, focusing on the subtle hum of magic that seemed to emanate from it. You dug through layers of topsoil, unspun the threads of magic like a ream of paper until you could read its contents. Every stroke of magic, its very signature, felt familiar.

It felt like Bethsevah. 

“I want to test something,” you said, gesturing to Techaria’s long, coiled hair. Without hesitation, she let you cut off a golden lock. You lowered it towards the lake’s mirrored surface and quickly snatched your hand away when the strands disintegrated with a spark. All it had taken was a touch and poof. Gone.

You repeated your test with Ione’s and… nothing. Nothing but a knotted length of gray, damp hair. Ione stared at the lake’s frozen surface, feeling something pull her closer and closer. 

She plunged her hands into the darkness.

You bit down a shout. Techaria leapt forward, grabbing a fistful of Ione’s cloak and pulling her back. You expected to see pure, white bone sticking out from the nubs of the wrist. At the very least, you expected some cracking of the universe as the ripples fluttered out and died. But once again… there was nothing.

Ione shrugged Techaria off her back before drying her hands on her cloak. “Well I think that settles any concern we had about my blood relationship to Bethsevah.” 

Techaria couldn’t believe that such boldness could come from a woman so frail and aged. 

You nodded. “Magic recognizes magic the same way blood does. It must be why you’re unaffected by the lake’s powers. It knows who you are.” 

You quickly took off your satchel, ripping off the buckles and upending its contents. Two dozen siphons spilled out, blinking like sapphires. You tried to tamp down on the wave of longing that rolled over you as you saw their familiar color but not the familiar body that came with them. 

Azriel.

Your mind whispered his name into the void as you clutched one of the blue stones. 

I’ll find you again when this is all over. I promise.

The elaborate leatherwork Ione had strapped on her hands, elbows, chest, and knees were familiar to you. Illyrian-made and designed to hold siphons capable of collecting and focusing power. 

You locked two of them into place on the backs of Ione’s hands, one at the center of her back, one at her chest, two at her elbows, and two at her knees. It was more than Azriel and Cassian wore, but Ione carried them with cold grace, as if she’d been born to carry out this task. 

“I hope you know what you’re doing, girl,” Ione said as you finished tightening the straps. 

“If you mean the armor, then yes, I do know what I’m doing.” It wasn’t the first time you’d handled Illyrian leather. You helped Azriel strip them off at the end of every day. It had become a ritual of sorts. You would unlace the armor at his elbows and knees and undo the buckles that kept his back brace secured beneath his wings. In return, Azriel would ghost his hands over your shoulders as you shrugged off your robes and undo whatever pins and knots had found their way into your hair that day. 

You shivered at the thought of him and his careful touch. At all the things you hadn’t told him. All the things you’d never gotten to do with him. You’d both been so cautious and determined to take your time as if you’d had an endless abundance of it, but you were beginning to regret it now. 

You swallowed those emotions. 

You couldn’t let them distract you. Not now. 

“If you mean everything else… I don’t.” You replied honestly. All of this was a gamble. You didn’t know if Ione would be able to handle the magic she was about to take on. And if she did survive, you didn’t know if the siphons you’d prepared would do anything to focus that power into something that could be used to kill a death god.

You slid a knife out from your thigh and Ione’s eyes flashed like two marbles caught in the sun. She too was thinking of all the ways the day could go wrong. But it was too late. She’d already committed to this next turn in her life and would see where the path took her. 

But for now… they could only wait. 

Azriel.

His head snapped up at the sound of your voice.

Every so often, when your guard was down or your emotions were heightened, thoughts and feelings would trickle across the connection that bound you too together and knock at the doors of Azriel’s soul. As if the bond knew your thoughts lay with him and wanted to give him a taste of all that could be his one day. 

Azriel. Focus. His brother’s voice snapped him from his thoughts. Shadows swarmed around him in a cloud so thick, he couldn’t see his brothers standing right next to him. They were all hidden in the same dark.

Is she safe, Rhys?

As safe as she can be with Ione and Techaria. They found the blindspot in Koschei’s magic. Y/n says some of the power in the lake belongs to Bethsevah, or at least used to, and will seek to destroy anything it doesn’t recognize. Take one step into those waters and it will burn you to a crisp.

So don’t touch the lake. Got it. I never was a fan of swimming. Cassian interjected. And I don’t believe my opinion will change after this day.

Azriel could feel the tension in his brother’s muscles the longer they were forced to stay hidden. Every twitch of his fingers as he drummed the hilt of his sword. Every rapid blink as he switched between conversations with Rhys, Nesta, and Feyre. 

Will Koschei burn too then? Azriel thought aloud. If he touches the lake before unlocking his power?

That would make our lives infinitely easier, wouldn’t it? I would bet good coin I could wrestle him into the lake. 

Something tells me Koschei isn’t the kind of man you can throw around, Cassian.

He’s not— 

The words died in Cassian’s mind, shriveling up and wasting away like flowers at the end of their season. 

He meant to tell Rhys, “He’s not a man at all.” But when Koschei emerged from the woods, languidly striding towards the lake, Cassian felt foolish for thinking anyone would need the reminder. 

Koschei was not dressed for war. 

Not a stitch of metal armor graced his skin. He wore only the unblemished flesh he’d been born in — grey as a stillborn child — and a length of pitch black fabric draped around his waist. Trails of white cord criss-crossed over his chest and wrapped around his throat like a necklace before looping down his arms.

Azriel narrowed his eyes, looking past his shadows, and shivered. It wasn’t white cord at all, but an endless chain of teeth strung together like stained pearls.

Koschei fingered them thoughtfully, counting each tooth and twisting the necklace around his neck so he could feel them drag across his skin. Molars, canines, and incisors alike were worn as decoration, testifying to the millions that had met their end beneath his feet. 

Death followed at his heels, sucking the air dry until it felt hard to breathe. Where he walked through the grass, the ground turned black. Plants lost their color and collapsed in pathetic heaps. Worms sprung from the ground, wriggling and writhing like the unfurling of a carpet in search of new rot to consume.

He carried a scythe in his hands, rust streaming down the black metal like it was weeping tears of blood. 

A scythe. How poetic,  Feyre thought with a shiver. Where farmers used the humble tool to cut down their fields, Koschei used his to cut down men. 

She gritted her teeth at the sight of something else in his hands. A metal chain tied around his wrist. One sharp tug and Ione — or rather, Nesta — stumbled out from the treeline by her neck. 

Nesta! 

I’m fine. She soothed her mate’s mind even as she followed Koschei’s beck and call, wrapping tendrils of cold flame around his boiling fury until it was at a simmer. The glare she shot into the death god’s back would have sent lesser men to their graves, but whenever he looked back at her with his alarmingly sympathetic smile, she masked that disdain, replacing it with a familiar mix of contempt and fear disguised as anger. He hasn’t hurt me.

She knew it was killing Cassian to watch as she was led to the lake like a lamb to slaughter. Every instinct of his screamed out to crush Koschei’s smooth skull beneath the heel of his boot for laying a hand on his mate. But whatever your magic had done was working. Vassa had dropped her at Koschei’s feet like a cat delivering a corpse and he had smiled so brightly, skin stretched to breaking over wide cheeks, that Nesta knew he’d been fooled. 

He’d locked that chain around her neck, caressed her cheek with care, and walked with her all the way from his cabin in the woods to this thin stretch of beach. He hadn’t spoken a single word, but he’d sung. 

Funeral songs.

Each and every one of them.  

Some she recognized, others she didn’t. Sometimes he sang in languages that had been buried in graves a long, long time ago, their tombstones scattered as dust in the wind. 

Pitch black eyes raked over the empty shores. His nostrils flared as he drank in the stench of decay and petrichor. Rain clouds huddled overhead, trembling in his presence as he smiled with a joy that didn’t reach his eyes. 

He couldn’t remember the last time his hands had been drenched with fresh blood, but he was looking forward to it. When he was finally free of this place, he would go to Prythian and revel in the violence he’d been deprived of for so long. 

He licked his lips and sighed. He could almost taste the iron on the tip of his tongue, brackish and pure. He began coiling the chain in his hands until Nesta was forced to kneel in front of him, not even a foot away from the still water. She could smell sickness on his skin, like that horrid summer in the human lands when plague bodies were left to bloat and spoil in the streets.

He gripped her face in one hand, pressing her cheeks until her lips parted. She fought the urge to bite off his fingers. 

“I know you’re disgusted by me.” He spoke in a deep, grating voice. “But you must understand, I was not meant to be like this. When I was worshiped, when I had full grasp of my being, I was a more handsome sight to look upon.” He grabbed the back of her neck, forcing her face over the lake until she could see Ione’s face staring back at her. 

“Thank you for giving that back to me, child.” 

Later on, when Nesta reflected on yet another brush with death, she would marvel at how sincere she found his words. 

He moved faster than light, a knife appearing in his hands that he aimed at Nesta’s throat.

But Cassian was faster. 

He hurled himself out of the shadows, slamming into Koschei’s side in an explosion of red light that left a crater in the earth. The death god looked almost elegant as he was thrown onto his back, drapery smooth over his chest and legs as he regarded Cassian with a frigid frown, like he was an ant who had dared to splatter and mark the bottom of his shoe. 

Cassian threw Nesta over his shoulder, sprinting off into the cover of the woods with his wings tucked tight between his shoulder blades. 

Remember, You’d told him, We need to keep Koschei away from the lake for as long as possible. The moment Ione breaks the spell, he’ll know and he’ll come racing back to destroy us all. 

He could hear Vassa screeching in the distance, the noise growing as the beat of her wings carried her back to the heart of the lake. Back to her master. 

He also heard the rustling of the leaves as the wind picked up. The steady footsteps of warriors getting ready to make their assault.

Koschei did not run after them. It was beneath him to run. He may have lost his prize, but such things were temporary. He’d waited this long. He could afford to wait a little longer. 

He took his scythe, raised the blade to his lips, and cut a vertical line down the center. Dark red blood, thick and clotted, spilled out from the wound and painted the blade. With an artful swing, he carved a circle into the sand and those things that were dead in the woods began to walk once more. 

Ione clawed at her chest the moment Koschei drew blood, some wild feeling in her spirit begging her to turn and sprint into the deep woods or to hide in the tall grasses like a bunny escaping a hound. 

“What’s going on? What’s happening?” 

You remembered she wasn’t blessed with the sight and sound of the fae. She couldn’t see what was happening on the other edges of the lake as Koschei finally began to walk after Cassian and Nesta. But she could feel it as keenly as you and Techaria that something was amiss. A malicious power was bleeding into the world and ripping souls from their rest.

It’s finally begun. 

The ground shook with silent thunder.

Techaria’s amber skin turned white, wings flickering back into the seeing world before disappearing again as she regained her focus. 

The wind whistled past you, skeletal branches beginning to rise and fall as they bowed over and over and over again in frantic prayer. The trees by the water leaned further down, kissing the lake with their lips and watching as they were burned away, leaving black craters on their faces. 

The earth trembled and bones rose from their graves, creeping up inch by inch like shiny, white pustules. Some still clung to their rotted flesh, stringy and dark and rank. Others were as smooth as pearls, picked clean by the scavengers of the earth. But all of them began clustering together, held up by magic as new tendons sprang into existence and knit the bones close.

You couldn’t believe how quickly those crooked creatures ran. Their movements were erratic yet purposeful as they weaved in between the gaps in the trees and through the rustling tall grasses, followed by distant screams and shouts and the ringing of steel and—

“Do it,” Ione commanded, holding out her wrists with a grimace. 

You clutched the knife tighter, but didn’t move. “Ione, I—”

The woman’s eyes hardened. She had not traveled all this way for fear to take over. She had not lived to this age or survived a fucking war to be afraid of death now. 

“I’m an old woman, Y/n. It’s a miracle I’ve kept my sanity this long. I can afford to lose it today. Now, if you don’t use that knife for its intended purpose, hand it over and I’ll do it myself!” She growled.

You sucked in a deep breath and without further hesitation, cut a line across the woman’s wrists. She hissed in pain before she turned and held out her hands so her blood could drip, drip, drip down, and disturb the smooth mirrored surface of the lake. 

He’s not following us, Cassian. Cassian! 

Nesta held onto him for dear life, burying her face in the folds of his wings as he sprinted through the woods like a wild horse. 

Koschei was meant to be following them. 

It wouldn’t matter that Ione could break the magic of the lake if Koschei was there to snatch it up instead.

Nesta felt a wave of power roll over the woods. Cassian held his breath, his stomach dropping towards the cradle of his hip bones.

I think you’ve spoken too soon, Nes.

Twisted creatures dropped down from the trees, pale with pitch black eyes and gaping mouths. Nesta gave a shout as one grabbed hold of her shoulder and threw her off Cassian’s back.

Two more leapt atop of Cassian, narrowly missing the curve of his throat with their teeth as he jerked back and then shot out bursts of power. 

NESTA!

She screamed, beating at the creature with her fists. Long, black strands of flesh fell from its skull, drooping over Nesta’s cheeks with a slimy touch. Just when she thought she’d need to pull from her own power, Cassian’s hands burst through its chest, tearing apart its chest in a shower of red light and bone fragments.

“Come on!”

The wind stopped howling so loudly. The temperature of the air dropped. And suddenly there was Koschei, looming just above Cassian’s shoulder with his stretched-skin smile and empty eyes.

Cassian caught sight of the death god in Nesta’s eyes, rolling out of the way of his scythe before it could take off his head. 

Nesta played the role of the old woman, scrambling away on all fours as bone-beasts gathered around like crows to a corpse. They clicked their teeth together, heads popping in and out of sockets as they closed off all avenues of escape. 

But Nesta’s attention was squarely on Cassian as he and Koschei danced through the trees. Her mate had never looked more alive than while fighting a god of death, with his sweat-slicked hair and cheeks painted red from exertion. There was a light in his eyes as he dove and twisted away from the swinging scythe and Nesta swore she could hear his wildly beating heart over the chaos.

Are you glad he followed us now, Nesta? He could still find it within himself to tease her.

Oh for fuck’s sake! 

She gritted her teeth, picking up a rotten log and beating away a creature that dared to cock its head in her direction with hunger. 

Despite the rush of blood in Cassian’s ears and the growing ache in his body, he couldn’t help but smile at the sound of Nesta’s curses in his mind. He stamped down on the scythe with his left foot and kicked it away with his right. It flew through the air, embedding itself in the trunk of a dead elm at the same time that Cassian sank his sword into Koschei’s ribs.

Koschei looked down at the blade in his side, a flicker of surprise passing through his eyes. 

His shoulders twitched… then began to shake. 

Koschei was laughing.

Cords of unnaturally defined muscle pulsed around Cassian’s sword, sucking and swallowing like a starving dog. Cassian’s stomach turned. His brain muddled and grew hot, for there was no blood to be found when he finished twisting the blade and wrenched it loose. 

Worms, wriggling, pink-grey worms, poked their heads out from the wound, writhing and coagulating before becoming flesh once more.

Koschei stopped laughing, but the smile never left him as he locked eyes with the Lord of Bloodshed.

“It’s been a long while since anyone laid a hand on me, let alone twice.” His words were heavy with condescension. “Well done.” 

Cassian reeled back, dropping his weapon as the muscles of his right arm seized with a vengeance. He ripped off his gauntlet, watching as the veins of his hand turned purple… then black. The skin followed suit, decaying before his very eyes.

He dropped to his knees, cradling the ruined limb against his chest and howling in pain.

Nesta saw red and lost her mind as Cassian’s pain erupted down the bond. 

She shrieked so loud and so powerfully that the bone-beasts vibrated before shattering into dust.

She tore away the magic you’d spent days weaving over her skin and through her blood like they were cobwebs until it wasn’t Ione standing in front of Koschei, but a Lady of Death in her own right.

Recognition flickered through Koschei as the scythe flew back into his hands. 

“Sister?” 

Then.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

And a piece of Koschei’s soul cracked open. His eyes flew open in surprise. His mouth dropped and a dozen flies swarmed out, buzzing with anticipation and hunger. 

Someone had unlocked the power in the lake. His power. 

Nesta lunged at him and landed in the dirt, damp leaves slipping and sliding beneath her hands and knees. Koschei was already gone.

Cassian moaned. His skinned burned from the inside out. Is this what his death would be? He felt like a pig slowly roasting on a split.

“Cassian, Cassian, my love.” Nesta crawled over to him, tearing buckles and leather armor off his chest and arms. “Cassian. Look at me.”

His eyes opened, bleary and unfocused.

“Nes,” he whispered, feeling cool kisses of wind pepper his burning flesh. “How bad is it?” 

Nesta went quiet. His right arm was black up to the elbow and the infection of Koschei’s touch was only spreading. Darkening veins bloomed towards his shoulder, like ink running down coarse paper. Soon it would spread to his chest and kill him. 

“Nes?” He felt her caress his mind. Felt her soothing his soul before quietly shutting him out. 

She eyed the sword abandoned on the ground, walked over, and picked it up. Cassian didn’t need to ask her what she meant to do as she stood above him and raised the blade above her head. His wife, his mate, had never been one to shy away from hard decisions.

“Damn, Nes,” he said through gritted teeth and adjusted his position so she had a clear path to his arm. “Just do it.”

“I love you, Cassian,” she said through tears.

“I know.” 

Then she brought down the sword, and severed Cassian’s arm from his shoulder.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The water turned red, swirls of color spreading out through the dark until every inch of the lake had turned as crimson as a rose.

Azriel slipped in and out of shadows, cutting down Koschei’s creatures just as quickly as they reformed. Beads of sweat gathered at his brow, painting his cheeks and neck with salty strokes. 

EVERYONE TO THE WATER! NOW! 

Feyre’s command rang in his mind and in a flash of shadow, he materialized on the beach. 

The High Lady’s silver armor shone like starlight — a beacon for warriors to flock to as they came staggering out of the trees and grasses covered in the blood of their friends.

Behind me! Rhys shouted from Feyre’s side. 

He crouched low as the bone beast sailed over his head, its crooked jaw open wide. Feyre plunged her fingers into its eye sockets, curling them around the nose bridge and holding tight as Rhys drove his sword up and into the dark flesh of its underside. His sword channeled his power, exploding the creature from the inside as it thrashed. Its jaws still snapped and twisted, screeching at a high-pitch until Feyre crushed it to dust.

Light, wind, fire, and ice exploded on the beach as High Lords and High Ladies poured out their power. Viviane threw her hands up, sending hundreds of shards of clear-cut ice towards Vassa as the firebird swooped down and bit off the head of an Autumn Court soldier. There came a scream as fire met ice and steam blanketed the ground, thick as early morning mist. 

Koschei’s creatures never stopped spilling out of the woods, piecing themselves back together in increasingly bulky, horrid formations. Even the fragments on the ground were restless, crawling over bodies like maggots, filling the eyes, and ears, and mouths of corpses until they were compelled to stand and fight with twitching limbs.

To Azriel’s right, Helion fought a wolf-man hybrid, shoving light down the creature’s throat until it lay convulsing on the ground. Somewhere to his left, the High Lord of Autumn was kneeling in the wet sand, shaking the bloodless body of one of his brothers and screaming at him to wake up. Azriel tried blinking the grit out of his eyes, shadows streaming over his arms and around his body like a shield. 

One blink and there was nothing but the misty haze before him.

Another blink and there was Koschei with his scythe in hand and a line of blood from his lips all the way down to his sternum.

Eris stopped cradling his brother’s body. The tears evaporated from his cheeks as he stood on shaking legs and pulled out his knife. He wanted to be close when he made the kill. This was personal.

Koschei tipped his head to the side as he regarded the High Lord. Then he smiled. He enjoyed it immensely when they fought back. 

The passion and hope and rage was just so delicious, like salt sprinkled over a fine meal. 

So when Eris roared, his metal armor turning pure white as he burst into flame, what else could Koschei do but slide his tongue over his lips and taste death? 

Eris clapped his hands together above his head, bringing them down in a stroke of white flame that Azriel felt blaze past his shoulder. Koschei swung his scythe and severed the flames in two, cutting a neat circle in the sand. Then he swung again and in an arc of light, the power of a High Lord of Prythian met the power of a death god. 

Lighting cracked through the air, structures of sand erupting and trapping the arc of the bolt like a snake’s tongue.

The scythe won.

Blood splatter decorated the ground as Eris’s armor was torn off him. His helm of oak branches and gold cracked in two, clattering to the ground before his body followed suit. Lucien ran forward, dragging Eris away as he gurgled and gasped for breath. 

Koschei sighed, dragging a finger down the handle of his scythe. “Oh how I’ve missed this.”

Ione felt the power call out the moment her blood hit the water. It was a thousand symphonies playing at the same time, calls from a hundred desperate lovers asking for her hand as she stared at her reflection and felt the world around her drown itself to music.

Drip… drip… drip.

“Ione… Ione… IONE!” 

Her eyes went dark and hungry, her hands curling into claws that wanted to reach out and take, and take, and take.

She shrugged off the hand you laid on her back, plunged her head into the iron-laced water, and began to drink. 

Every gulp was a breath of fresh air. An electric zing through her blood she hadn’t felt in decades as the pain of time-worn bones melted away. 

She felt untouchable. 

She felt alive. 

Like the first time she’d taken a man to her bed, his dramatic gasps rolling out from beneath her as she dug her nails into the headboard and drove her hips down. Like the day she’d run away from home with nothing but a bag of copper, the clothes on her back, and bruises blossoming on her knuckles. Like the morning she’d awoken in a strange town miles away from home and seen her endless future unfurling before her.

Yes. That’s what she was. Endless.

“IONE!” You screamed through water-logged ears. 

Ione’s skin, wrinkled and dusted with sunspots, began to clear. Light, hot and saturated as a sunset, pressed against her skin from the inside. Like a parasite ready to burst, it roiled and bubbled within her, consuming her every thought except that she needed to keep drinking until the lake was completely empty and she’d reached the depths of Koschei’s magic. 

“You need to stop! You’re taking too much! IONE!” The siphons she wore were bright as stars, cracks appearing in their surface as they tried to contain the power coursing through her system and failed. You kept replacing the ones you could reach, throwing the overcharged stones to Techaria until you ran out. 

You grabbed the leather straps criss-crossing over Ione’s back and yanked. Hard. 

Ione threw out her hand and the siphons on her body exploded. Your head burst with pain as you were thrown back with enough force to snap the trunk of a chestnut tree. The world swam before you. Colors melted like the paint water Feyre cleaned her brushes in. 

Ione drank and drank and drank, craning her neck ever forward as the water level dropped at an alarming rate. 

Techaria looped her arms around the old woman’s chest, digging her heels into the ground and heaving with all her might. But the woman didn’t budge, too drunk off power and possibility to let anyone stand in her way. Ione used her newly acquired strength to grab Techaria’s wrists and together they dove into the water and disappeared. 

Blood dripped down your temples, dampening your hair as you crawled your way to the lake’s edge. 

Techaria’s wings floated to the surface, orange crystalline membrane sizzling like steel wool.

The water dropped another three feet before Ione reemerged. If you hadn’t seen her go in, you wouldn’t have recognized her when she came out. Her grey hair was now so blonde it may as well have been moonbeam cascading down her back and over her breasts. Her skin shone, pale and perfect. Her pupils were but pinpricks in the fabric of her steel grey eyes. 

You whimpered when she looked at you, her stare flat and empty as the air around her rippled and turned white. 

For a moment she looked like she might smile. 

But then she took in a shuddering breath, lower lip trembling as her mouth filled with blood. She dragged her hands down her face, peeling away the skin as fissures broke out full of light and crackling with electricity.

“Get it out. Get it out! GET IT OUT! NOOOOOOOOO!”

Ione blew apart. 

Her blood rained over your head, drenching you so thoroughly you may as well have gotten caught in a thunderstorm.

Bethsevah hadn’t been able to control the power nestled within the lake. To possess it for even a short period of time had nearly driven her mad. You should have known Ione never stood a chance. 

If things go wrong, find me so I can protect you. And so if anything happens, we won’t be alone. I want you to promise me.

“I promise, Azriel. I promise.” 

You walked in a daze, muttering those words to yourself over and over again. You didn’t know where you were. You didn’t even register the change in the air as you stepped out of the blindspot’s safety and began walking. 

And walking. 

And walking. 

Towards where you could only hope Azriel was still fighting. 

You tripped over a body, salt-crusted braids peeking out from beneath a helm of coral and seashell. Paisley blue eyes, deep and dark and bloodshot, stared lifelessly at the sky. You staggered back to your feet, picking up the pace as you stumbled through a maze of corpses. 

You slipped when the ground turned to pure ice. It splintered outwards from two bodies like a starburst.

Viviane, armed to the teeth in blue steel and a crown of ice protruding from her white curls, rocked back and forth on her heels while cradling Kallias’s head in her hands. 

She wailed as his body turned cold. Frost clung to his long, pale lashes and where his blood pooled around his pale blue robes the ice melted and cotton grass grew in quiet, white tufts. 

Onwards you walked, until you felt a familiar tap at the edges of your mind. 

Y/n! What’s going on? Where are you? Your High Lady’s voice rang loud and clear. 

It’s over, Feyre. Ione’s dead. Techaria’s dead. 

What do you mean? What happened? TELL ME!

Ione wasn’t strong enough to hold Koschei’s power. She… she killed Techaria. She blew apart into a million pieces. I’m covered in her. 

You spit on the ground, wiping away the taste of blood on your lips. It clung to you like a second skin, seeping into your pores and burying itself there. 

Y/N!

It was a different voice calling out to you this time. You heard it on the wind, soft and faint as an echo. Or maybe you were finally losing your mind. But it didn’t matter. You would have followed Azriel’s voice anywhere. 

You started to run, or rather stumble forward, hearing the clanging of steel and shattering of bones grow louder and louder. Through the gaps in the trees you saw Koschei standing as immovable as a mountain. He had one hand splayed out — silver lines splintering out in the air like and holding back the assault of Rhysand and Helion’s power. With the other he swung outward with his scythe, the rusted blade sprayed with fresh blood. 

The High Lord of Summer beat aside the weapon, the moisture he’d plucked from the air fluctuating around him like a brilliant, blue sea creature. Feyre trapped the scythe in the sand, crossing her twin swords in an X and giving Tarquin the chance he needed to bring down his spear and shatter the weapon with a boom that exploded through the woods and sent you sprawling back on hands and knees. 

Koschei hissed and he lurched back with what remained of his weapon — a metal rod tapering to a jagged, thin end. That fleeting moment of triumph on Tarquin’s face fell away when Koschei stepped close and drove that jagged end through Tarquin’s stomach. His iridescent, pearl-encrusted armor may as well have been crafted from paper the way it crumbled and tore. 

Rhysand roared, finally breaking through Koschei’s shield as Feyre threw herself over Tarquin and raised a barrier to protect them both. He snapped his wings out to the side, leaping through the air in an arc that had you holding your breath. 

Black feathers exploded from his skin. His hands elongated, curling into claws capable of shredding through steel and iron. 

This was the High Lord of the Night Court. 

Rhysand was darkness given monstrous form.

Night triumphant.

The strongest elements of his Illyrian and high fae heritage combined.

Koschei plucked Rhysand out of the air like he was a fly. 

Grabbed hold of his wings.

And tore them off his back. 

“RHYS!” Feyre’s shriek tore through the air, forcing everyone to turn their heads and watch as the High Lord of the Night Court’s wings drifted to the ground like silk.

Rhysand didn’t cry out, too in shock at the loss of such a familiar weight from his shoulder blades. He felt Feyre’s horror and pain where he couldn’t feel anything. His body all but shut down. He landed in the dirt, sand rolling around his tongue and stealing the moisture from his mouth. Then Feyre was there, smoothing back his hair and telling him not to move. He fumbled around for her hand, feeling it clamp down and never let go. 

Koschei loomed over the High Lord and High Lady, looking down at the fire in Feyre’s grey-blue eyes with a sneer. It was a sight he was too familiar with — a foolish girl making foolish decisions in the name of love. It filled him with an indescribable hatred. 

His wall of magic built itself up again and would not bend or break, no matter how Helion threw his blows down in cascades of golden light to help his friends. 

Feyre spit on the ground as tendrils of decay scattered out from Koschei’s feet, dampening her magic until she could only drag Rhysand over her lap and press her lips to the top of his head. 

Helion gritted his teeth. His magic was fading fast, even as he kept finding new places within himself to pull strength from. Koschei’s shield was weakening, he could feel it stretching thin as he began to divide his attention towards the High Lady and High Lord of Night stretched out before him. 

Just… a little… longer. He promised himself, even as his legs shook and buckled until he was down on his knees. 

There was a flash of red at his side and Helion’s brows shot into his hairline when Lucien Vanserra slipped into his peripheral vision, palms out and pouring every ounce of energy in his body towards the weakening hole in Koschei’s shield. There was something about him that Helion recognized. Some close connection that revealed itself as the golden flame of Lucien’s power joined his own. 

Helion’s stomach bottomed out. He was in freefall. “Lucien?” He asked breathlessly.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Lucien replied through gritted teeth.

Koschei snapped out his wrist and an obsidian blade, thin as a needle, appeared in his palm. It seemed to shriek as he swung it down, screaming with a thousand voices like a choir from hell. 

Azriel slipped out from the darkness, shadows pouring out to block the attack. 

No. You breathed. No, no, no, no, no, no, no—

Azriel was cunning. You’d seen him in action and knew he was talented beyond measure and armed with a skillset that could rival the High Lords of Prythian. But even he was no match for Koschei. 

The death god stuck his hand through the assault of shadows and lifted Azriel into the air with a mere flick of his palm. 

He tore Azriel’s shadows away from him, peeling them back like a second skin until they fell limp to the ground. Had he killed them? You’d never stopped to think that such a thing was possible.

Azriel stifled the screams that rose in his throat. He had promised himself he would never cry out in pain — never beg for anything — since the day his brothers had ruined his hands. 

But then he locked eyes with you and heard you scream his name as you ran towards him barefoot and bleeding over the battlefield. And he found reason to beg. 

“NO!” He roared over the shrieking of shadows in his ears. “GET OUT OF HERE, Y/N!” 

There was only one way he’d die a good male and that was if you managed to escape. That was the only hope on his mind. The only prayer on his lips as he begged you to leave him. To leave them all. 

“Y/N! PLEASE!” He cried out in pain, thrashing in the air. 

Promise aside, you couldn’t leave him. You’d never stopped to entertain the thought that Azriel might be the one to die today. He was too good. Too strong. But if this was the end of his road, you would follow close behind. That was a promise no magic or death god would ever get in the way of.

You gasped, feeling something beneath your ribs tighten and lock. 

The bond snapped into place so powerfully you almost fell apart in the sand. 

It was a sliver of moonbeam laced with shadow that tied you to the one person in the entire world you’d felt safe with. The first person you could ever truly call home. 

Azriel’s face crumbled, tears streaming down his cheeks as the world fell away from him until you were the only bright and shining thing. A single star dropped onto a black sky. 

And Azriel… Azriel was everything to you. 

I’m only a Librarian. You thought even as you ran forward, eyes locked on your mate. You weren’t meant for war or strategy or cunning. You belonged in the stacks, huddled over ancient pages. Not on blood-soaked grounds hundreds of miles from home. 

But more than that, you belonged with Azriel. You were meant for each other. As intrinsically as gravity bound the seas to the earth, Azriel grounded you and you centered him. To lose him now would mean being untethered from the world. To float away into a nothingness that wasn’t serene or patient, but dark and lonely. 

You wouldn’t lose him. Not now. Not ever. 

You had done what no one else had been capable of doing. You’d read through Bethsevah’s history. For a moment, when you’d been close to death on the cobblestone streets of Velaris, you had felt her power fill you like a cup of wine, her memories overflowing from the pages of her book until you had become her.

If you’re reading this, my daughters, do what I could not. Take the power in the lake and destroy him. It will open for you, and only you. My power. My blood. 

You’d had a taste of that power. You knew the shapes it took beneath your hands. You knew how it felt when it was running through your veins like blood. And it was this knowledge that you clung to with reckless abandonment as you began to pull Bethsevah’s memories from the reaches of your mind, donning them like a costume.

Without thinking twice, you switched courses, desperation fuelling your legs as you sprinted towards the glossy, blood-red lake before you. Azriel was still screaming your name, begging you to stop, and you heard your father and brother’s voices join in his pleading. The bond, still so fresh and vulnerable, echoed his horror as you ran right up to the lake’s edge and leapt into the waters. 

I don’t know how to swim. You remembered as the darkness enveloped you. Lucien never taught me and I don’t know if he’ll ever get a chance to. 

You thought that by looking up you’d see a warped image of the sky, bordered by murky outlines of the trees as they swayed and bowed. Instead, you saw a reflection of yourself. You floated inches above yourself, lips closed tight as you felt the growing need for oxygen begin to bloom in your lungs. 

It was warm here, but it did not burn like it did before. You held onto the knowledge of Bethsevah’s power, feeling the texture of it beneath your fingertips and carefully undoing the threads of your own magical signature before remaking it to match. Months ago, you had shared a theory with Azriel that Clairvoyants possessed a particular ability to alter their magical signatures to match others. A form of magical mimicry and another example of your studies bleeding into the real world and shaping the fabric of the universe. 

You’d tested that theory with Nesta when you’d hid her from Koschei, but now it was time for a second experiment. 

You did not burn. Not even when you opened your lips and let the water pour in. 

It slipped down your throat like whiskey, setting your blood ablaze and sending shivers across your skin. With each gulp you felt stronger. The wounds on your body sealed shut. The bruises beneath your eyes faded. 

You reached deep into that wealth of power to find what belonged to Koschei, Thanatos, Stryga, and Bethsevah. You absorbed the knowledge embedded in their magic, and time crumbled beneath your touch as you began undoing and reweaving their magical signatures into something utterly changed. 

It was careful, pensive work. The kind of work that could only belong to a Librarian and a Clairvoyant. 

With the power of three death gods and a warrior flooding through your veins, you pulled yourself to the edge of that mirror and stared at your own reflection. Your clothes were gone and your body healed. Once, you would have cringed at the sight of your own skin. But no more.

You drank.

And drank.

And drank.

Until the lake was only an empty pit in the ground. 

All creatures, dead and alive and in-between, felt it when the powers within the lake broke a second time. 

Koschei dropped Azriel and he fell flat onto his back, raw and broken. His shadows were gone, and now matter how he called out for them, they did not return.

He grasped on to the bond, desperately tugging on it to make sure you were still breathing on the other side. 

“Y/n,” he whispered. His voice was stripped back to nothing. 

You were still there, but you felt faint, as if more distance stretched between you than a hundred meters. 

He rolled onto his stomach, digging his fingernails into the sand and dragging himself forward inch by bloody inch. But the lake drew away from him, water levels plummeting like someone had reached down and pulled the stopper from a bathtub. 

The bond roared, heat blooming in his chest with new power as you revealed yourself. First it was the smooth expanse of your back, then your head as it dipped further and further down to drink what remained of the lake’s magic until there wasn’t a single drop left. 

Koschei stood in shock, his bloodless skin growing even paler as you stood up and pinned him to the ground with your stare. You shone brighter than the sun, moon, and all the stars in the universe combined and Azriel couldn’t pull his gaze away. 

You had never looked more otherworldly — more ethereal — than in that very moment. 

You moved forward so quickly, Azriel didn’t register it until you were standing in front of Koschei, naked and perfect. 

You grabbed Koschei’s face in your hands, his jaw slack and open. He tried to move but found that his feet had been driven into the ground like tent poles. For the first time in his immortal life, Koschei felt fear. 

You shoved power into his body — down his throat, his eyes, his ears — until he was vibrating with untempered energy. His skin started to split apart, light spilling out from the fissures like lava rock and dripping down his body like blood. He felt his own power attack him, killing him from the inside out as you kept pouring more and more magic into Koschei before it could destroy you as well. He was being unwritten from this world. Every muscle fiber snapped in two. Every cell in his body swelled and burst like a grape. 

You held onto the bond, letting it act as an anchor for your sanity so you wouldn’t die like Ione did, and Azriel held on too. Gods did he hold on. He held on so tight you could feel the pressure in your ribs like he was holding your body together and not just your soul. 

You leaned close, allowing your breath to fan over Koschei’s rotten face. “No one touches my mate,” you seethed.

And Koschei blew apart into a trillion microscopic pieces.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

Thank you for your patience as I worked to get this chapter out! And um.... sorry if it wasn't what you were hoping for.

Now let me just—

[transmascutena]

while akio’s car is obviously a symbol of sex and sexual violence and the power that he alone wields as the only person who can drive it, i’m not really a fan of the interpretation that “any time someone gets in the car it means they are Literally Actually Having Sex in that moment.” while i do think that it’s probably true some of the time (touga’s first car ride with the “i’m not old enough” line and the car scene with akio and anthy in episode 37 in particular are the ones i read in this way,) i don’t think it’s as straight-forward as that, and generally, trying to decode metaphors to what they Actually Represent in the literal real world is not the most interesting way of approaching analysis to me. i do still think there is significance and meaning to which characters get in the car with who, though, and especially where in the car they sit. specifically i think it says something about the characters’ relationships to one another.

let’s start with the pairs we see sitting in the backseat together. the first are touga and saionji in episode 25, who have a lot outside of their car scene to imply a sexual (or at the very least homoerotic) relationship between them (see the motorcycle scene in episode 36, with similar symbolism to the car.) after that is ruka and shiori in episode 28, who have by far the most overtly sexual car scene, and is probably another one where the sex is literal. last is touga and nanami in episode 32, where touga assaults her (another sexual relationship, although enitrely nonconsensual this time.)

compare that to the characters who sit in the backseat alone: miki and juri. miki is in the car with kozue, but she doesn’t sit next to him, instead she sits in the front seat. this, in my opinion, means that while their relationship does have its weird incestual undertones, it’s never actually been sexual, and it isn’t here either. juri is in the car with ruka, and similarly they do not sit together; their relationship is also not sexual (even though ruka does assault her earlier in the episode, it doesn’t continue in the car.) it’s possible that sitting seperately in the car implies one-sided feelings, but i don’t think that’s likely since there's no implications of that between touga and ruka who do the same thing, and personally i don’t think it’s true for the kaoru’s either. and also, if the positions had anything to do with attraction, touga and nanami would obviously not have been sitting together.

then there’s the front passenger seat, and here the significance is that it’s next to akio. most of the people we see sitting there* (touga, utena, anthy, kozue) are people who are direct victims of akio’s grooming and abuse (the only exception being ruka.) i also think there’s something about how sitting in the front seat feels like it gives you more freedom than the back, even though that’s not true. like you get the special privilege of sitting next to the person driving the car, but you don’t actually get any control yourself.

(*i am deliberately not including wakaba here, because although she does sit in the front seat on her “date” with akio in episode 30, they don’t go to the infinitely looping metaphor-highway at night, and i think that distinction is important. like how utena is in the car several times, but only in that place after akio has turned the relationship explicitly sexual)

[libby-for-life]

I want Lucifer to get humbled🤭 and that angelicradio requested you did open something up, lol. So I was wondering if you could a part two of it of everyone finding out about Alastor and Adam. And Lucifer, I especially need Lucifer reaction!!

I got you, Anon. Part 2 of AngelicRadio

Adam was more than satisfied by last night's activities. Who knew that lambs could scream that high? Alastor was satisfied as well. He was going to be spending the rest of Hell's life making sure that his lamb was taken care of.

They were currently in bed together. Adam was lying on Alastor, his face snuggled into his chest. Hid little lamb was so tired and yet, ever the stubborn one, was still awake.

"I think...we should tell the others. They'll figure it out eventually." Adam said, eyes drooping. Alastor hummed as he rubbed soothing fingers over Adam's bruises.

"If that's what you want, lamb." He yawned and he was well aware his partner watched him as his jaw unhinged, Alastor's rows of sharp teeth and long tongue on full display. He let out a soft laugh as Adam mumbled. "Damn. That was hot."

"I'm glad you like me yawning."

They fell asleep in each other's arms until late morning.

"Wait. So you guys...are together?" Vaggie said, her voice shaky due to how surprised she was. Her mouth was opened in shock.

"Yes, do try to keep up," Alastor replied making her glare. Everyone was in different levels of shock. Well, except Angel Dust. He was grinning from one metaphorical ear to the other.

"I knew it!" He screamed getting everyone to look at him. "I fucking knew it! Pay up, Husk! You owe me fifty Souls!" Alastor watched with his head tilted as Husk actually paid the spider.

"This game was rigged," Husk mumbled while Angel snickered at his misfortune.

"I'm so happy for you guys!" Charlie said with a grin. Adam nodded at her with a small smile, but his true smiles were reserved for Alastor alone. Something the deer demon was grateful for.

Nifty hugged Alastor and was talking a mile a minute about her...yaoi? Sometimes, Alastor thought, ignorance was bliss when it came to that one.

The only one who hadn't commented about Alastor and Adam was Lucifer. He was glaring daggers at them, his hate and jealousy seeping through. Adam was too busy trying to keep Angel's questions at bay to notice it.

Alastor smirked and decided to rub salt in the wound. He grabbed Adam and kissed him. It was long and passionate, something that left Adam moaning in front of everyone. Adam's eyes were closed but the deer demon snuck a peak at the devil.

He was pissed, his teeth grinding together in an effort to control himself. Good.

"Well, I believe that's all the questions we have for today," Alastor said cheerfully, holding up a boneless lamb. "Me and Adam have a lunch date. Goodbye for now!"

He walked out of the Hotel with everyone whispering. Those whispers were carried on by the demons they walked passed. Adam soon came up from his little head and he grew embarrassed with all the stares. "Alastor! Everyone is starring!"

Alastor chuckled. "Good. Let them see what they can never have."

[companion-of-the-dragonmark]

Is the Light Fury Based on a Book Character(s)? (HTTYD 3)

Warning: Spoilers for those who either haven't read the books or having read books 10-12.

Greetings and well met, my fellow Dragonmarkers!

Today is the start of ONE of my new article series that I promised to start working on for you guys!

Today's first topic will be diving into the possibility on whether or not the Light Fury is based loosely on a book character as well.

Now, as you guys know, my opinion of the Light Fury is a little on the low side since the trailer. Not only because I've seen Light Furies since the first film came out (thank you, fanfiction and fanart 2010 and up), but also because of the obvious sexual dimorphism that they've created between Toothless and the Light Fury that you never see in other dragon species — which, in my opinion, is a bit of an insult. And her feminine-like physicality and seemingly OP skills.

DreamWorks, be honest, you took this character from the fanbase, didn't you? 😒😑

Would it have killed them to give us another Night Fury? 😭

But, to save time and to prevent you from listening to old rants and explanations from previous articles, I'm moving on.

There's been several theories and headcanons that I've been voicing as to explain her appearance physically and canonly-speaking in the past, but most of them have been shot down by metaphorical bola-launchers manned by Hiccups in the form of Dreamworks. Thank you, Dreamworks! (Notice the sarcasm)

However, recently, I've been re-reading the books and I've noticed something peculiar that never struck me before.

What if the Light Fury isn't as random as I had thought? That she isn't just something that Dreamworks implemented from the fandom in order to please the fans or created for the sole purpose of being Toothless's mate? What if she was inspired — as many HTTYD characters are — from the books?

The reason why I suddenly was struck by this though was by what Dean DeBlois stated: "That we will be basing a lot of the third part of Hiccup's story on the last book of the series: Book 12," to paraphrase heavily here.

He said that they'll be basing the third film to be loyal to the twelfth and final book of the series: How to Fight a Dragon's Fury. (Which, by the way, wasn't really the case.)

So, if this is true, then is the Light Fury a possible nod to the books? That's what we're here to hopefully find out. 

Two Possible Influences:

There are two dragon characters that the Light Fury could possibly be inspired by: 

The Silver Phantom — a powerful dragon species that shows up in books 10-12 (as well as the Complete Book of Dragons)

And Luna, a Seadragonus Giganticus Maximus who's Furious's second-in-command and eventually Ruler of the dragons when a dying Furious names her as his successor and leaves for the Great Ocean (the author left it open-ended for the reader to decide whether he lives or not).

These two are not only female dragons, but dragons that are closest to what could've inspired the Light Fury that I could find.

I'm going to begin by discussing the Silver Phantom and the Light Fury and their similarities and differences. Then I'll do Luna and the Light Fury.

Now, please keep in mind that these upcoming reasons of the possibilities of the Light Fury sharing inspiration from one or both of these dragons are pure speculation, hypotheses, guesswork, and assumptions. So please take these words with a grain of salt.

If you think that I am wrong at any points or to improve any points, please let me know. I don't claim to have or know all the answers or that everything that comes out of my mouth is 110% accurate. I'm just making speculative reasonings and theories to try to better understand certain characters out of my love for this fandom.

So on to the Silver Phantom!

<><><><><><><><><><>

Similarities Between the Light Fury and the Silver Phantom:

The Silver Phantom is first mentioned in Book 10: "How to Seize a Dragon's Jewel", where it's waiting for Hiccup and his dragons in ambush. We find out later that it's the Riding Dragon of Valhallarama, Hiccup's questing mother. It's nameless and doesn't talk (similar to Humungous Hotshot's dragon in book 5: "How to Twist a Dragon's Tale"), unlike other Riding Dragons. Though, I'm sure that's because of irrelevance to the plot of the story.

The stats on the picture say 7 for Size and 8 for Disobedience, though in the stats in the 10th book for the Silver Phantom, it says that all of its categories are a 10. I'm not sure how to account for this, on whether or not if this is a mistake. Or if it's dependent on gender. However, the 10th book was published in 2012, while The Complete Book of Dragons was published somewhere between 2013-2014, so I'm guessing that Cressida changed the stats a bit?

So here are some possible reasons as to why the Silver Phantom and the Light Fury might be similar and why the latter could be loosely-inspired by the former.

1) Both dragons seem to have similar colored scales.

Both dragons seem to have scales of a silvery-white hue, as both of them are sparkly and glowing. 

In page 23 of Chapter 1 in Book 10, it says: 

"Even though it was in the dead of night, every silver scale was lit up and shone brighter than was strictly possible in real life. The Silver Phantom seemed to give off its own light, like the moon.  "Its scream was so high and so loud that Hiccup felt as if it were setting fire to his ears. And as the dragon screamed, it poured out a jet of bright blue flames that blasted the trees in front of it, burning the leaves as bright as green stars before they dropped to the ground in powdery black smithereens."

The Light Fury seems to glow in a similar way, though her scales seem to be nonexistent and more reflective than the Silver Phantom's. Now, the Light Fury doesn't breathe blue/purple flame (the film seems to show that she breathes a regular plasma blast with the normal color of fire, not a bluish-white color), but Toothless does. So I believe that the Fury family could easily be based on this particular dragon, as they can fly in high altitudes, and (the Night Furies, at least) can breathe blue/purple flame, and are the fastest in the dragon world in the movie franchise.

2) Both dragons seem to be rare.

It's described in page 1 of Chapter 1 as being "an Air Dragon of the purest silver — very, very rare and very, very dangerous."  

In Book 10 and in The Complete Book of Dragons, Hiccup says that the Silver Phantom is a very rare dragon. However, in the latter book, it shows Hiccup the First, the second and third Hiccups' ancestor, riding on the back of a female Silver Phantom—which according to Hiccup the Third is very rare. So I'm not sure if Cressida is saying that the Silver Phantom as a species is very rare, or just the females. Or maybe because there are few females, that the Phantoms as a species can't reproduce as quickly and so their numbers were dwindling.

Or maybe during the previous two Hiccups' times, they weren't so rare, but they're rare now in Hiccup the Third's time?

Regardless of the reason, they're a rare species of dragon, and a Viking who has this dragon as its Riding Dragon would definitely be getting a big rise in social status. Valhallarama is the only known Viking in the series to ride a Silver Phantom as their riding dragon. There's also Hiccup the First, but it's not known whether the female Silver Phantom he's riding was allowing him to ride her for a temporary period, or if she was another riding dragon for him. There's no mention in the series of anyone having more than one Riding Dragon. Many Vikings are known to have more than one Hunting Dragon—or just more than one dragon in general—but there's no evidence of any Vikings having more than one Riding Dragon. Wodensfang said in Book 9 that he was Hiccup the First's blood brother and Riding Dragon. So, because of the lack of evidence of Vikings having more than one Riding Dragon, I'm assuming that's because you can only have one at a time, while you can have multiple Hunting Dragons.

Now, concerning the Light Fury, Dean DeBlois has said that "she is not the last of her kind," when talking about the Light Fury. However, you can take that with a grain of salt. For one thing, he says, "not the last of her kind." It doesn't say that they're not rare or endangered, nor does it say that female Light Furies aren't rare. However, I can't say with 110% certainty because neither the movie nor the behind-the-scenes vids have come out to prove this, nor is there any certainty of there being any concrete information in the film even if it does come out. Informative, and quite possibly visual, evidence on Light Furies and Night Furies will probably be scant if at all existent.  

3) Both dragons seem to be super fast.

In pages 32-33, it speaks of the Silver Phantom's speed: 

"Over the past year they had often eluded dragon pursuers by climbing up into the higher air, too high for the other dragons to follow. Most dragons prefer shallow air, the air nearest the ground. Very few can operate in the higher atmosphere. "Apart from the Silver Phantom. ". . . The Phantom was an Air Dragon. They were among the best flyers in the dragon world, and they flew the fastest and the highest."

In Page 307 of Chapter 27, the Phantom's speed is confirmed and the dragon is said to be "the fastest riding dragon in open skies."  

Now, since she's part of the Fury family of Dragons, I'm assuming that she's really fast—as fast as Toothless if not more so (which might be the latter since he's encumbered with flight equipment, while she doesn't have such encumberments). 

The Fury family of Dragons seem to be the fastest dragons in the dragon world, as Hiccup and Dreamworks have stated several times, and is mentioned in the book of dragons. Which makes me not help but wonder if the Night Furies weren't somewhat inspired by the Silver Phantom species.

Now, again, these are just speculative hypotheses at the moment, and probably won't ever be proven.

Now, on to Luna!

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Similarities Between the Light Fury and Luna the Sea-Dragon:

(Second_Only_To_The_Dragon_Furious_by_Grim1978)

.

Luna, Second-in-Command of Furious, King of the Dragons:

Now, this latter character is who I personally believe that the Light Fury is based on, in my opinion. I'll explain as I go along.

1) Both dragons are of the same species as their respective Toothlesses.

In the 12th Book: "How to Fight a Dragon's Fury", Luna is described in Page 76 of Chapter 4 as "a luminously beautiful Sea-Dragon slightly smaller than himself (Furious), known as Luna." 

In the books, "Sea-Dragon" is a term often used to describe the Seadragonus Giganticus Maximus (due to the first part of their species' scientific name, I think), a massive Sea-Dragon species that are arguably the most dangerous dragons known in the dragon world. That, and they're also quite possibly the largest dragons in the dragon world—hence why Furious is King of the Dragons. Size and ferocity are very important for an Alpha, in a similar aspect to lions and wolves, etc. 

Anyway, it's been revealed in Book 11: "How to Betray a Dragon's Hero", that Toothless is a Seadragonus Giganticus Maximus, and NOT a Common or Garden Dragon, making him akin to other SGMs such as Wodensfang, Furious, Luna, Merciless/Green Death, and Purple Death (Book 1).

Meanwhile, the Light Fury, while not a Night Fury, is of the same family as the latter and are very close cousins. And since both the Light Fury and Toothless are Furies, and Toothless is loosely inspired from the Book!Toothless, who is a Seadragonus Giganticus Maximus (or a Sea-Dragon) like Luna, it makes sense that the Light Fury might be based on Luna, however slightly. 

2) Both dragons have glowing white scales.

In the same page and the same chapter, the narrator (Hiccup) further describes Luna as such: "She was so-called because she glowed with light like the moon. She lit up the dark storm clouds all around, and waves of heat pulsed out of her, so that the rain smoked and hissed when it landed on her shining body."

Now the Light Fury doesn't have glowing scales; her scales are more sparkly or glittery than anything. But in certain environments under certain exposure of light in a particular angle, it does look like that her scales are glowing in a sense. Unlike Luna, the Light Fury seems to copy the Deadly Shadow's and the Changewing's cloaking abilities, though in a smaller and more temporary sense, and having to use her plasma blasts to activate it.

3) Both dragons become rulers.

In Pages 415 and 421 on Chapter 26, Furious gives his Alpha-ship to Luna before he swims away into the Great Ocean, either awaiting death or even surviving the venomous injury he acquired from the Witch. And Luna then becomes the new Alpha of the Dragons and rules the Dragons for the rest of her days (which are very long indeed, even well past the end of the series.)

Now, here's my theory and headcanon for the third film concerning the Light Fury: That the Light Fury either 1) is Alpha of her own thunder (term for flock of dragons) as Toothless is when they find her and somehow got separated, 2) she'll become co-Alpha when she becomes Toothless's mate, or 3) Toothless, like Furious, ends up giving his Alpha-ship to another—namely the Light Fury—so that he can stay with Hiccup.

What do you guys think? Which do you think is plausible?

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Conclusion:

So that's my thoughts about the Light Fury. What do you guys think? Think that any of this is plausible? Do you think that she might be inspired by the Silver Phantom or Luna or a little bit of both? Anything that I got wrong and needs correcting? What are your thoughts on this?

(Personally, I still think that the Light Fury is a fanbase add-on by DreamWorks.)

Again, this is just a theory since I can't prove any of this. So if you have any thoughts you'd like to give me to prove or disprove this or to add to this that I didn't think of, I'd appreciate it.

Thanks again for your time and for reading this, as well as any comments that you might post. I appreciate the feedback and support!

If you guys have anyone specific you'd like me to write an article about in this comparison series, let me know.

Long Live the Wilderwest!

— Companion of the Dragonmark

[fallen-angel-with-broken-halo]

Huge delay but also huge life problems. Let's get down to my rant about The Wisdom Saga.

"Legendary" is the introduction to Telemachus, now an adult. After all, it's been 20 years. And Ithaca still has no king. Telemachus is willing to face whatever monsters are thrown his way in order to find his father with the enthusiasm of the 20 something that he is. This is also where the light metaphor starts. This is a world filled with monsters, after all. Human or not. So he just wants to "bring the world some light." The repeated plea for strength to fight and protect his mother, of course, will pay off. Antinous right from the start establishes his dominance. Not only does he somewhat demean Telemachus for his youth, as he does repeatedly in the next song, but also riles him up into a fight by calling his mother a tramp, most likely to just get rid of him already. As per usual, there are some musical elements that repeat from previous songs. Which is adorable, considering that Telemachus never really knew his father. And yet, there are still melodies akin to Odysseus'. Like father like son.

"Little Wolf" perfectly captures three things. Firstly, the true face of the suitors. They're vicious, especially Antinous, who's basically the face of all 108. The fight is pure entertainment to him, like a gladiator match that's set up right from the start. After all, Telemachus should've died in that showdown. Antinous once again takes note of Odysseus being gone, basically calling out that Telemachus had no father figure. His last words in this song encapsulate everything there is to despise about the suitors. He's mocking the boy for losing, showing how much stronger he is in both physical and mental terms when urging him to cry where his mother could hear him, just to encourage helplessness. He also threatens both Telemachus and Penelope, basically promising that they would try to kill Telemachus and rape Penelope if she doesn't choose a new husband. Secondly, there's Telemachus and wolf imagery. We already know that wolves are established to have a connection to Odysseus and his crew, which makes me think that, in general, it refers to soldiers. On the other hand, Athena calls Antinous a dog, the rest of the suitors "all his kind." A dog is lesser than a wolf, while also maybe referring to how eager they were for Penelope. It's very clearly derogatory. Thirdly, we're already seeing a hint of how Athena changed since we've last seen her. She's very patient with Telemachus while also very much encouraging him to fight. She also praises his heart, showing that she has very much different priorities than she used to. (Also, is it just me, or does Telemachus sound so much like his dad sometimes in general, istg. Really good choice of casting.)

"We'll Be Fine" shows fully the transformation of Athena. She no longer thinks of Odysseus as her mentee, but her friend. Once again, the light metaphor appears with Athena mentioning Odysseus' light going dark, while Telemachus reassures her that she will find the light, everything will be fine. We see so much regret from Athena, the what ifs. She can no longer sleep at night, just like Odysseus couldn't because of losing his crew, his friends. Telemachus only shows what good she has done for him, that she can put the past behind and focus on learning from her mistakes, being his friend to redeem herself and find that life can still turn out great if you let go of your own overthinking. Telemachus saying that it's the best day of his life because he got in a fight and didn't die hurts. Also, Jorge already explored it in a tiktok of his own, but I really love how Telemachus mimicked the run from "Warrior of the Mind" that Athena used (which is so heartwarming, she's using Odysseus' melody again) and then he made it his own. He is not a baby, how some people in the fandom try to portray him, but he sure as hell is the most optimistic character we've gotten since Polites.

"Love in Paradise" is my favourite from the saga, which was so unexpected for me. This song is a lot! Starting with the long promised quick thought ability of Athena's, quickly skipping through the most important parts of the sagas since Athena's goodbye. But then we get to Calypso. And honestly, I believe that she wants to be the same way as the lotus. The moment you get a taste, you never want to leave. She repeatedly emphasises that her island, her love, this life with her, is a paradise. But Odysseus is not like Perimedes. His only reason to keep living, keep going, is his wife and son. Odysseus' anger towards the woman turning into fear/panic once she admits she's a goddess hits me in the feels, precisely because the gods are at fault for most, if not all, of his trauma. Meanwhile, Calypso doesn't care for his feelings, keeping him stuck in "paradise," which only led to him spiralling further throughout those 7 years. He was already on the verge of breaking when he ended up there. During the cliff scene, he is literally hanging on the last thread. There's nothing but screams of those he has lost. The only thing he can do is call out for his last living friend, Athena. This depiction of his mental deterioration is very precious to me. Calypso is so manipulative in this moment. I'm very much sure that all the callbacks to Eurylochus, to Anticlea, to Polites in her speech are meant to keep him there still. They are familiar, good. But they are also the ghosts of the past haunting him. Also, "I'm not your man" sang to the tune of "I'm Just a Man"? Jorge, when I catch you, Jorge-

"God Games" really shows the influences of games and anime in this musical. Although I believe this song could've very much benefited from being even longer, I understand why it's not. The fact that Athena admitted she rarely ever asks for favours from her father, yet he still punished her for winning his game? Zeus is truly well executed in Epic. Anyway, rolling back. Apollo truly did not care for this game. His argument was barely anything, easily rebutted. There wasn't much convincing at all happening. This was just silly. Also, considering Apollo is the god of prophecy, he knew Odysseus would reach home anyway. Hephaestus is also very easily convinced. His whole argument was Odysseus sacrificing his crew for his own life, also breaking their trust in "Scylla." But the fact that the crew betrayed him and failed to listen to him during "Mutiny" easily convinced him. (Also, I really loved the wording in this part, giving homage to Hephaestus as the god of forgery, and I loved the bells in Athena's part.) Aphrodite is well-written here in terms of her being a goddess of love. Odysseus never cheated, and nothing with Calypso was willingly, so she mentions instead the fact that he let his mother, Anticlea, die from heartbreak. Also, showing that the gods are still mad that he didn't kill the cyclops. This moment with Athena, where she asks Aphrodite to reconsider, really reminds me of Odysseus in "The Horse and the Infant" and "Mutiny." Which is why it's very interesting to me that Ares calls this Athena's "old tricks." Did she teach Odysseus that, then? It's just a little thing I love. (Edit: got this clarified, the reference is to slowing down time. Still like to think about the connection, however. No matter how fickle. It shows how much Athena has changed and that Ody had an influence on her!) Ares is. Well. Ares. Both in terms of his singing and lyrics, he is a brute force, not holding back. The complete opposite of Odysseus, who is viewed by the god as cowardly. Also, he insults Telemachus in the same breath. This moment really shows the rivalry between the siblings, which I adore. Athena does not stand for his bullshit, protecting Telemachus as her friend. Not only does she address to Aphrodite that "a broken heart can mend," rebutting her claim about breaking his mother's heart, but she also then promises bloodshed to Ares if Odysseus is released. Considering the two were lovers, they agreed simultaneously. Hera's part is fun and groovy, as expected. She's quite easily convinced once Athena appealed to her problem with Zeus' love affairs, mentioning that Odysseus never cheated on his wife. Zeus got pissed off, tried to kill his daughter because she won his game, like he had the emotional regulation of a toddler, and Athena let out her final plea for his release. The song is musically very interesting, the lyrics are so very fitting for the gods... I love it. Also, the fact that during Zeus' rage, he used the same words he used against Odysseus during "Thunder Bringer," now towards Athena, therefore demeaning her for her friendship with Ody and expressing his disdain with her going against his wishes? Amazing.

[holdupjack]

In That Moment, My Heart Died With You

——————

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fem!Reader

WARNING: Angst to Fluff

——————

Third Person P.O.V:

Hermione stood in the crowd as they watched the army of death-eaters walk across the bridge. Hagrid stood before them cradling two bodies in his arms, Ginny cried out in horror as she realized who he was holding in his left arm, while Hermione just stared at the body in his right.

Her Y/n.

She looked as though the was sleeping, only needed her shoulder to be shaken to open her eyes.

Hermione felt as though her knees would buckle, and her heart would crawl out of her chest to Y/n.

The argument from earlier in the day replayed in her mind, causing the blood in her body to boil and scream at her past self for not stopping her.

Y/n and Harry had agreed to meet with Voldemort in the woods, just in the hopes that could save a few of their friends. When they had told Hermione and Ron their plan, almost immediately did Hermione stand up and calmly told the boys to leave the room.

Y/n stared at the ground, afraid to meet her lover's harsh gaze. She knew this would be the end of their relationship, whether she left with a girlfriend or not.

"What the hell are you two thinking?" Hermione asks in disbelief as she towered over her girlfriend's shrinking form.

"Harry thinks that we-"

"Screw what Harry thinks! I know you two are siblings, but that doesn't mean you have to follow him blindly into these things!" She states as the Potter stood up and met her gaze finally.

"It's because of us that our friends are dying out there!" Y/n yells as she gestures in the direction of the castle.

"That's not true! This was going to happen whether you two lived that night or not!" Hermione yells back as her eyes darted around her girlfriend's face.

Y/n sighed and ran her fingers through her hair, she knew Hermione was right, but she wasn't going to let her brother go alone.

"I'm going, Hermione. That's final." Y/n replies as she grabbed her coat from the chair beside her, but Hermione quickly grabbed her wrist.

"Don't. Go." She pleaded through gritted teeth, trying her best to hold back the emotions that wanted to burst out of her.

Y/n stared at her hand around her wrist, trying to think of any words that would ease the pain in her favorite girl's soul.

"When we first met, you told me that you didn't plan on falling in love, since it would deviate you from your studies" Y/n starts as her eyes began to trail up Hermione's arm.

"Then in the fourth year, we found ourselves in a secluded corner of the Gryffindor common room, where I admitted that my mind whispers your name like is desperately asking for air" she continues as they found their sights on one another again, Hermione's lip quivered only for a moment, but Y/n caught it.

"That was the moment I knew you'd be the one to wound me more than any Curse would be able to procure" Hermione replies as she pulled her girlfriend towards her, the coat dropping to their feet.

Their arms wrapped around each other in such desperate and pleading motions, that it almost seemed like they were posing for a renaissance painting.

Hermione felt dread and paranoia flood her body as her mind told her that this was the last time she would see her beautiful Y/n alive.

Little did she know, that she was right.

"THE POTTERS ARE DEAD!"

Voldemort words broke Hermione out of her mind and made her blink back onto her lover's unmoving body.

The Gryffindor's ears began to ring as she never broke her eye contact with Y/n's corpse. She felt Ron next to her, either trying to comfort her or get her attention, she didn't care to know.

Angry wasn't the right word or any different literature form that every language has given this feeling.

Hermione felt as though someone had dug their fingers into her chest and began pulling her rib cage away from her body. She could almost hear the metaphorical cracks of her bones as her fingers twitched around her wand.

Kill him.

Her eyes darted over towards Voldemort as he gave a speech, time seemed to slow as her grip tightened around her weapon.

We haven't gotten all the Horcruxes.

Kill him.

The ringing in her ears was now sirens in comparison to before, as she raised her wand to the wizard.

For Y/n.

Before she could act, Harry darted out of Hagrid's arms, running to cover and back into the castle as the war finally broke out.

Hermione stood still amongst the chaos as she shifted her eyes to Hagrid's retreating form into the castle.

Y/n still wasn't moving.

Life finally resumed at normal speed as she chased after him, the bells in her ears disappearing as she pushed her way back into the school.

Cries of pain and casts of spells filled her ears as she jumped/tripped over corpses on the ground.

She even shoulder-checked one of the Death Eaters, which gave an opening to another student to kill him.

(A/N: *linebacker Hermione*: MOVE! MY WIFE NEEDS ME)

Hermione stumbled into a hallway leading towards the Great Hall, she saw the man quickly walk into it.

The makeshift morgue was in there.

"Y/n" Hermione whispered in fear as she ran towards the entrance, people held each other in horror as the walls shook and screams echoed around the school.

When the Gryffindor broke her way into the Great Hall, Hagrid stood with Madam Promfrey as she covered a boy's body with a white sheet.

"Where is she?" Hermione asks quietly as she got closer to the adults.

The groundskeeper was surprised to see Ms.Granger away from battle already, but at the same time, he wasn't that surprised.

"She ran off towards her brother, I have the slightest idea of where they are headed" Hagrid replies as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Ran?" Hermione breathed out in relief as she felt her heart gasp for air and come back to life, pounding steadily in her chest.

"Yes, she seemed to have taken a little longer to come back than her brother," he says as he placed a giant hand on her shoulder.

"Thank Merlin" Hermione cried out as she hunched over and let her emotions run free before she ran back out into battle.

Oh, you're going to get your head chewed off if you both survive this.

——————

War Over

Y/n stood in the library, it was one of the few rooms that were still intact after everything and one of the few that didn't have bodies in it.

Her body ached, and her mind was tired from the anxiety she had been experiencing for the last seven years.

She hadn't seen Hermione at all during Harry's showdown with Voldemort, she was too busy dealing with Bellatrix.

"This is for Hermione"

The door suddenly slammed open, which sparked fear in Y/n as she pointed her wand at the intruder.

Hermione stared at her with a heaving chest as the Potter quickly stood down her weapon. They both had; dirt, cuts, and ash covering their bodies, but they have never looked so beautiful to each other.

"My love-" Y/n starts, but she was quickly cut off by Hermione running towards her and engulfing her body in a bone-crushing hug.

Y/n found her fingers in Hermione's hair, now that it was free from the hairstyle she had in it earlier.

"You're bleeding" Hermione whispers as she felt a sticky wet substance staining her finger as she grasps her shirt.

"It's not mine" Y/n whispered back as she pulled her closer, and kissed her head comfortingly in an attempt to calm them both.

Yet, Hermione pushed herself away and slapped her across the face. Y/n stared at her with wide eyes as she touched her cheek, the Gryffindor started to angrily sob.

"I thought you were dead! Why would you do that to me?!" Hermione yells as she shoved Y/n away, which made her stumble.

"I'm okay now-"

"You weren't breathing! You made my worst fears come true and you think that I'll just forgive you now?!" She continues to rant as she pushed her again, Y/n fell against the table behind her.

"You left me!" Hermione cries out as she hit Y/n's chest with the side of her fists, tears falling down her face as she let out her anger.

"I felt my heart stop beating when I saw you in Hagrid's arms, every logical thought left my mind as I was about to get myself killed to avenge you!" She yells as her hands grasp the front of Y/n's shirt and pushed her onto the table, their eyes finally meeting again.

Hermione loomed over her with such sorrow and anger that it frightened the Potter slightly.

"You hurt me"

Silence floated between them for a while, to which Hermione scoffed, and began to back away.

Y/n quickly wrapped her arms back around Hermione, trapping her hands between them as she struggled.

"Let me go!" She yells in protest but soon went limp as her girlfriend began to whisper apologies and sweet nothings.

Maybe it was the haste that she and her brother shared, but Y/n hadn't realized how much she had hurt Hermione with their quick decisions.

Her wails vibrated Y/n's ears.

She had thought of her friends' lives, but not her girlfriends, and now seeing her falling apart because of it, shattered Y/n in ways she didn't think possible.

"You've broken me, just like I knew you would!" Hermione choked out as Y/n nuzzled her face into the crook of the girl's neck.

"I'll fix you, I promise" Y/n whispers as Hermione broke her hands free and pulled her girlfriend in for a sought-after kiss.

"Never again will you break me Y/n, I mean it" Hermione whispers in between the kiss, to which Y/n hummed in agreement.

"I swear"

...

Thankfully, Y/n kept her promises, giving Hermione the life she wanted and deserved after everything they went through.

They spent life together with smiles and laughs, but some tears when night terrors or sudden flashbacks plagued them.

Hermione was prone to throw herself into her work to distract herself from the memories, which Y/n would always break her away from with a promise of a delicious dinner and the new book she was looking at.

Y/n was more of a daydreamer, where she would stare off into the corner of the room when she had nothing to do. She'd be there for hours, just thinking back on the terrors she saw and done. Hermione would just walk over and begin to pepper her favorite girl in kisses, which easily brought her back into reality.

They had each other's backs, and that's all they needed to the end.

"Thank you for 'fixing' me, my love"

"And thank you for keeping me sane"

[professorspork]

⭐️the triple meet cutes pls >:)

well, here is where the downside of the way I outline -- i.e. putting it directly into the document and then just replacing it with the prose itself as I go -- shows its head, because I'm not sure I can stitch the timeline on this together as perfectly as I'd like. luckily I can for some of it because I narrate the vast majority of my life events to @alexkablob thanks for being my searchable diary pal

lol gonna cut this too bc I AM VERBOSE

the true meet cute was always going to happen at a bar. "My friends are being jerks right now, can I sit with you?" is a line that was actually used on me (collectively, addressed to my friend group) at a bar, and it remains one of the BEST lines I've ever heard (love that poor little meow meow rizz), and it was always going to belong to Yang. I knew they'd begin there, and they'd end at "So you don't date. Do you make friends? I've been told I give great friend."

the question then became: how the fuck was I going to get Blake to go to a bar when I knew she's sober and a total hermit?

I considered her going to see a band she likes play, but didn't love that because it would put Yang in the rude position of interrupting something important that she was there to enjoy. I considered it being an open mic night, maybe something where they had an overlapping friend in common and didn't know it, but again-- that directs the scene, and suddenly it's about their mutual buddy rather than them and their chemistry. I considered several different settings (coffee shop? the park?) instead of a bar, to try and make it read smoother, but bar just Felt Right. as someone who's gone to bars to watch baseball when I didn't have access to cable, that cropped up as an idea, and then it was just a question of coming up with a sporting event Blake would possibly have interest in, and ice skating seemed feasible enough. back when I lived in the East Village, I had a corner bar I'd go to down the block from my place that had amazing fried pickles and I'd often do my homework there before it got busy, so that's where that came from.

the "last ferry out to Menagerie" paragraph, in which Blake recontextualizes and basks in her attraction to Yang after learning she's trans, is hands down the single excerpt I worked hardest on. the first step, as I was drafting it early last august, was coming up with the right metaphor in the first place. I wanted something which would help me avoid it reading like a "well you can always tell with those transes" cringefest

me: so now the thing i'm chewing on is-- is what we talked about before, which is figuring out how to write about blake being attracted to the parts of yang's appearance that are sort of self-evidently trans without it accidentally becoming a weird bioessentialist screed me: the best metaphor i've come up with so far is glasses, like-- like putting on your glasses after cleaning them when they've been smudgy for a week, and you suddenly have this wonderful appreciation for crisp little beautiful details me: but blake does not wear glasses and i'm not enough of a hack to give her glasses JUST FOR THIS (i did consider it) so now i'm trying to think of other ways to talk about that, like-- moment of dawning clarity

(sorry I did not give blake glasses. similarly, this past march while writing the big sex scene in chapter 9 I was like "well yes i'm 123k into this but what if I went through and edited everything to give Blake a nose ring wouldn't that be hot" and alexis talked me out of it so blame her.)

once I came up with the "last ferry" concept ("me, rollerblading down Main Street, AO3: HAVE YOU MARVELED AT THE CELESTIAL BEAUTY OF TRANS PEOPLE TODAY") I worked on those two sentences for over an hour. i am particular about my language and cadence always, but even for me this is uh absurdly excessive. WORTH IT THO, because it's the most important passage in the whole fic. i deleted and rephrased it probably a hundred times, trying to get the right flow, the right lyricism, and crucially not say "stars" 8 different times.

Blake's deep dark secret being that she's a country fan has been baked into this fic's essence from the very beginning; the title, "something wild and unruly," is from a Dixie Chicks song for this reason. IT WILL CONTINUE TO BE RELEVANT, and I had to get it in early.

as I've told several people, the "deck building game" joke also comes directly from my life. Helen and I went to New Jersey last June to do wedding errands -- tastings, fittings, engagement photo shoot -- and while we were there we visited a very cute bar in my hometown as a potential night-before-wedding hangout space. she casually mentioned that her sibling was texting her about... oh gosh, I can't remember the name of it, but I went "what's that?" and she said "a deck-building game" and because I was home, and thus around my mother and how she has HGTV on all the time, instead of oh, like Dominion I went "like a porch?" and then she laughed and laughed and I said "well that's definitely going in the fic."

luckily my wife is used to that, because I stole from our lives a great deal. she first started having car battery trouble in January of 2023, and then we opened up the hood and found scary corrosion and my dad talked me through how to clean that out the way Neptune does. from then on it was sort of floating in the back of my mind that this could be something I used in the story-- Blake's car is 100% based on Helen's car, which she bought at a police auction and clearly had a Rough Backstory-- but it was three weeks later that we finally got tired of jumping it all the time and called AAA. the guy really DID come like 2 minutes after I put the request in on the app, so shockingly Yang's fast turnaround time is actually based on life. and about ten minutes after that happened I declared:

me: no real-life anecdote is ever wasted and this is DEFINITELY happening to blake after she and yang have their meet-cute and it's yang who shows up and has to be like WELL HOW ABOUT THAT SERENDIPITY :D

about three months later I then had my OWN battery troubles, and that's when I went out of my way to ask the tech who came about a million questions about what the multimeter read and how cold crank amp tests worked. I pretty much wrote our conversation verbatim into a note on my phone, which became what Yang said. (the fellow who came then also had a very sharp and snazzy work shirt, and that's when I thought about how cute the little Yang on her breast pocket would be)

only it would be--

Yang

:) okay anyway

I don't know what it is about competent service professionals that make me go "you're Yang Xiao Long actually" but I've done it twice now, with my wedding DJ and with the AAA people

I went back and forth on whether the library meet-cute would come before or after the car scene, but in its earliest incarnation the idea was just that Yang would come up to the circ desk to check something out and oops Blake's standing there. at one point I even considered having Yang ask her out to lunch. once I realized it behooved me to have Yang and Pyrrha already be friends, so Pyrrha could vouch for her, I knew it had to come at the end to tie everything in a bow.

[oneeyedoctogod]

Disclaimer: long, extremely personal rant. Yes, it's also about mdzs and Jiang Cheng but mainly, it's about me trying to deal with my own trauma when I'm being hit in the face (metaphorically) with it by putting my feelings into words. The posting is so I don't erase it and force myself to forget about it.

You know it's funny, but as I was trying to sleep (and failing. Badly. It's 2:38 am.) I kept on finding myself thinking about why I didn't like Jiang Cheng. Because you see, it's rare for me to dislike a character that much, to the point I actually have blacklisted all his tags and avoid any fics that talk about him positively.

(Again, this is an extremely personal post about my own feelings. This is not meant as a rebuke if you love him. On the contrary. Keep doing what sparks joy. Just, you know, far away from me.)

I have a funny history with the mdzs fandom. I first started watching the donghua when it started airing back in... 2018? 2019? Can't remember for sure. Then I was left hungry for more because only the first season had aired, and it ended on a big cliffhanger. I saw it was an adaptation, so I went looking for the source material... and found the manhua (I was used to japanese animation at that point and thought that was it). The manhua was also being fan translated, and despite being extremely different (and confusing for poor past me), ALSO left me on a cliffhanger. I was desperate and saw someone pointing out there was a novel! I finally found it, read it in a few nights, and loved it. I read a bunch of fics, enjoyed myself, met and befriended people. Then I moved on after a while. I remember, distinctly, that I wasn't a big fan of Jiang Cheng but that I could at least stomach him in fics.

Last December, I felt the urge to reread some mdzs fics. I read some popular ones and, after falling into the animatics and amvs rabbit hole, decided to rewatch the donghua. Except for some reason, Jiang Cheng's character rubbed me wrong. I remembered not liking him much but he wasn't that bad in the fics so I couldn't see why he was so distasteful in the donghua. I'd been warned that the donghua wasn't that faithful (my own memory was extremely hazy), so I just shrugged it off. Maybe the people behind the donghua weren't fans of jc?

I saw there was an official translation of the novel and, by that point, DEEP into the hyper fixation, I bought all four available volumes and read them. At the same time, I was still reading fics. It was fine after all, I already knew the story.

By then, I had realized something was a little wrong with the characteristization. Some of the tropes given to Wei Wuxian rubbed me the wrong way. I looked it up a little (remade a tumblr, found amazing meta, the rest is history) and figured "Ah that must be cql fics. That's the problem."

And yes, that's true. In part.

The other problem lies with the particular way some people write Jiang Cheng. I'll be clear again: I have nothing against those people. Most of them I don't know and I'm aware this is very much a, shall we say, "me" problem. It's why I avoid the positive Jiang Cheng content. I don't care if you keep writing it so long as you keep it away from the canon jc tag.

But whenever people write Jiang Cheng and completely erase his crimes and abuse of both Wei Wuxian and Jin Ling, I feel it like a slap on the face.

Last Monday, I saw a therapist and talked about her about many things (I did warn this would be a very personal post). Part of it was my mother and her treatment of me and my brothers. And after barely a few words, she said, very simply "Oh so your mother abused you."

I already knew that. I use those words myself to describe my history with her. But the validation is always nice to hear, you know? Especially because so many people try or have tried to brush it off as "nothing." My own mother did, both about her own behaviour and when I was being abused by other people and tried to seek her help. Hell, even I still do it sometimes.

And I think that's why I hate Jiang Cheng so damn much now. His canon self is... Well, I'm not a fan, but he's a well-written antagonist. But dear gods, I've seen so many people brush off his canon characteristics to make him into a more palatable character, the loving uncle, the funny tsundere brother, the ace guy who hates mushy romance (let me tell you, as an ace person I am also real fucking tired of homophobic characters being hc as ace)... Even the ones who mention his bad parts feel the need to immediately add his achievements, as if they don't dare speak badly of their fave. "Yes, he tortured Wei Wuxian, but he also sacrificed his core to save him!" "Yes, he hit and verbally abused Jin Ling, but he also lovingly raised him!" "Yes, he tortured and killed innocent people but he also has trauma and had to lead a sect when he was so young!"

And this feels familiar, every time. This feels like the people telling me "Yes but it's not that bad" or saying "Yes your mother gave you panic attacks but she made sure you didn't fail at school" or "Yes but she made you love reading" or "Yes but she gave you so much, don't be selfish" or "Yes but she was here for you when you were depressed" or "Yes but she has it hard too" until I fell in the habit of saying "Sure, my mother insulted me and threatened me financially and there was a long, long time I was convinced she didn't love me... but."

Always that damn BUT.

So you might be able to understand why I have a hard time with Jiang Cheng when people pull the same shit all thenfucking time. I'm working on it because I'd rather not be stuck feeling anxious about a silly purple grape just because he happens to be fandom fave in my current hyperfixation but in the meantime, I have to deal with it and it's... annoying. To say the least.

(I'm going to insist here: I know that Jiang Cheng isn't my mother. That's not the point here. I am fully aware he's a fictional character and that me feeling that way is something I should be working on. I am. And I'm not telling people to stop writing positive content for him. This is just me trying to put into words my complicated feelings for a complicated character. And ranting, a little bit, about badly tagged fics I admit.)

It's easier on social media. You just block the characters tag and, if people bother you about it, you block them. Friends being friends, I just need to tell them "I don't feel comfortable talking about this character" or "let's agree to disagree on this interpretation" and because my friends are the best, they agree and we move on.

Fanfiction is where the problem lies.

I know why people erase the 'hard' parts, or at least I have a good guess. It's easier that way. Fanfiction is about having fun! It's about writing about your blorbos the way you want to! I don't want to police anyone's content. I'd just like it if people tagged their OOC and stopped trying to make me feel as if I'm the one who misread the book because I don't feel like erasing the canonical abuse this character did or because I don't like that they keep putting down my favorite character to uplift theirs.

I'm not sure how to conclude this. I should be sleeping honestly.

Let's try this: if you read this to the end, congrats I guess. I want to reiterate I don't care if you make Jiang Cheng into the most loving, best brother and uncle ever. Just be aware of what you're erasing first. And tag your goddamn fics.

[frankendykes-monster]

Of course, this is the fundamental issue with Deadpool and Wolverine. It’s not a story, it’s a collection of familiar intellectual property bundled into a two-hour package, and fans would complain if Wolverine either waited to put the costume on or eventually symbolically took it off. So the costume stays on for the movie’s runtime, because that is the priority here. That’s the primary purpose of the movie. Even the most basic storytelling logic is secondary to the desire to pander to empty nostalgia. It’s very interesting what Deadpool and Wolverine can and cannot joke about, what topics are deemed out of bounds for this most irreverent of franchises. There are no references to either T.J. Miller or Jonathan Majors, though that is to be expected. There are no references to Cable, Domino or Julian, despite the fact that they formed the emotional crux of the last film. They’ve seemingly been replaced by Shatterstar, who is alive for some reason. And who Deadpool no longer hates, for some reason. Under the Disney brand, Deadpool and Wolverine is thoroughly domesticated. Any implication that the making of this movie was troubled is sorely out of bounds. There is another small but appreciable shift between Deadpool and Wolverine and the previous two movies in the franchise. The opening credits in Deadpool and Deadpool 2 were irreverent and passive aggressive. Deadpool was directed by “an overpaid tool”, Deadpool 2 was directed by “one of the guys who killed the dog in John Wick.” In contrast, Deadpool and Wolverine is “a Kevin Feige production” and “a Shawn Levy film.” Apparently there are some things that you don’t joke about. That’s Deadpool and Wolverine in a nutshell. Or a fan-service-y yellow costume.

Still, there is something interesting here. Last year’s summer blockbusters were largely about how man had killed god, whether literally or metaphorically. The High Evolutionary stepped into the role of creator in Guardians of the Galaxy, Vol. 3. The entire journey of The Creator was to turn off the life support keeping “the Creator” alive. Barbie was about the exile from the Garden. Fast X found Dante (yes) trying to blow up the Vatican because he died and discovered there was no afterlife. Oppenheimer finds mankind taking atomic power into their own hands, “a terrible reckoning of divine power.” Loki imagines what it means to kill He Who Remains. As such, it’s interesting that this year’s blockbusters seek to fill that existential void with something: intellectual property. It’s no surprise so many of this year’s blockbusters are about intellectual property surviving the literal or metaphorical death of the author. Deadpool and Wolverine survive the merger and acquisition of Fox. Harold contemplates his creator’s mortality in Harold and the Purple Crayon. IF was about the idea that nobody outgrows their childhood imaginary friend. Argylle is the story of an author who discovers that she is ultimately a character in her own narrative. In these stories, fiction survives the loss of its creator. Intellectual property endures. Indeed, intellectual property moves to fill the gap. So many modern films are “spreadsheet movies”, films about watching companies celebrate how much stuff they own. Space Jam, The Flash, Deadpool and Wolverine. There is no story, no theme, no purpose, no character. There is only intellectual property, imagery and iconography to be memed and reproduced and reimagined and reworked, until any residual meaning is completely erased. But intellectual property doesn’t just survive. It redeems. It will save you. It is your messiah. What is Madame Web but A Very Spider-Man Nativity, the story of the birth of one Peter Benjamin Parker mythologised, with three wise Spider-Women in attendance? The joke in Deadpool and Wolverine is that Deadpool is “Marvel Jesus”, but the film is too smart to play that straight. Instead, it casts Wolverine as the messiah. Wolverine is “the anchor being.” Only through Wolverine’s death and rebirth can the world itself be redeemed, the universe born again, the centre allowed to hold. Hell, he’s even crucified at one point in Deadpool and Wolverine. [...] (It is telling that even the void has no room for anybody but superheroes. Second chances are reserved entirely for pieces of recognisable iconography, not for ordinary people. There is no humanity to be found in Deadpool and Wolverine, the narrative equivalent of watching an executive move items around a spreadsheet for two straight hours.)

[prolix-yuy]

Writers' Iron Chef #9: My Everything and Beyond

[PROMPT] Song lyrics from Leon Bridges’ “Beyond” “Do you think I’m being foolish if I don’t rush in?

I’m scared to death that she might be it That the love is real That the shoe might fit She might just be my everything and beyond”

[TIME LIMIT] Optional, 10 minutes prep. time 30 minutes writing time Optional, 10 minutes editing time

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Rating: T, some angsty Marcus, overthinking galore, lotsa sweetness. While this story is not explicit, my blog and the content shared on it is 18+ so MINORS DNI.

Summary: He's never named the feeling in his chest, but it's as much a part of him as he wants you to be,

Notes: Written for Writers’ Iron Chef Prompt 9.

To ease myself back into writing after the holidays, here's a little fun with Marcus. I am a classically trained overthinker, so I thought it would be fun to see Marcus trying his darnedest to not keep making the same mistakes. I love these prompts as little writing warmups, and while this one got a little belabored in the metaphor it definitely got my wheels turning! Thanks to @writersironchef for always giving the best prompts!

He was wrong before, and that’s what scares him now. This twisting, aching, anxious feeling scrambling in his chest is so close to what he felt for Teresa, but with sharper teeth. Claws that scrape and dig between his ribs. And words that drift up and past his ears like steam from an unattended teapot ready to burst into song.

You love her.

You love her.

You love her.

But Marcus doesn’t know when to trust that voice anymore. Every time it’s hissed softly into his hopeful ear his heart took the damage. College girlfriend who balked at his promise ring. A wife gained, a wife lost. Another proposal dashed to bits on the cold concrete. This feeling is a liar, a trickster that beats against its confines no matter how hard Marcus tries to ignore it. 

When you looked at him for the first time, more than the passing glance he waited for every morning, it tapped tentatively against his sternum.

When your morning greetings grew from “Hello Marcus!” to “I wish you never told me about The Subject was Roses, I cried for an hour after. You better have lunch free to talk about it!” it skated up his spine like ascending notes on a xylophone. 

And finally, after six dinners at the same terrible Chinese place between your apartment when he admitted he wished all of them had been dates, it dug its claws into his chest and held still for a breath.

But when you smiled over the lip of your beer, and said “Haven’t they been?” it roared.

Falling in love was Marcus’ true profession, but was he ever lousy at staying employed. Not for lack of trying, and after Teresa he realized maybe for an abundance of trying. So with you he wrestles the tremors of excitement back. He’s going to play it cool, play it slow. Dampen the voice that begs him to kiss you, hold you, tell you every little thing he wants and desires and what he’ll do to give you the world.

He’s going to do it right this time.

But every time he tries not to linger on your touch, he finds his hands ghosting over your skin. Your teases set his face ablaze, needing to take several laps around the office to regain his composure. And the last few times he’d watched you mount your steps, saying goodnight with a beat longer than necessary before heading inside, he wanted to follow. 

He knows he’s getting close to trouble now. The worst part is how much you’re stoking this feeling, and how hard it's becoming to resist. All he wants to do is quell the ache ponging around his stomach, but your last moments each night are spent obsessing over whether now is the time to kiss you. And if it is, can he stop once he’s started?

You’re starting to notice, and it’s only making it worse. The pendulum has swung too far in the other direction, and now Marcus is positively glacial in his courtship. Thinking about it makes his jaw ache, the twin desires of tell her everything and don’t scare her off become a torturous purgatory of his own devising.

Tonight the air is crisp, and you’re walking closer than usual. He took you to a cozy Mediterranean place this time, the vegetal spice of oregano and grape leaves still dancing on his tongue. You’d slipped your hand into his, tucking both into his overcoat pocket and the closeness makes the feeling rabid.

You love her.

I like her. A lot. 

Tell her you love her.

I’ll scare her away.

Tell her you need her.

Stop it.

Kiss her kiss her taste her take her.

Marcus barely realizes he’s climbed the steps with you before he’s there, your hand still in his and your smile soft on your lips. He’s at a loss, all the words he’s warring with trapped in his throat. 

“I…” he manages to croak out.

“Marcus,” you interrupt, opening your front door. If he could just focus for a moment, concentrate on the perfect arrangement of words to let you know how he feels without being too much, too fast, too soon.

“What are you waiting for?”

Your question quells the feeling for the first time in…Marcus isn’t sure how long. But it finally settles, like a feral cat come to love its home. And Marcus finally breathes.

“For you,” he says, chasing your smile as long as you’ll let him.

END

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[yukipri]

The Bad Batch Season 2 - Mid-Season Eps 7 & 8 Spoilers & Thoughts

Ranted it out on twitter last night and forgot to share here.

LOT of thoughts this time

Major Spoilers beneath cut!

Really trully phenomenal writing, so much more than I expected to be said so explicitly. Open discussion of clones' rights, their futures, their lack of personhood under both the Republic and the Empire, even the threat of decommissioning.

What we always knew, what we wanted explicitly addressed in mainstream canon, stated by the clones themselves. Truly ecstatic about these episodes.

Absolutely loved the confirmation that yes, this is what Rex has been doing all along. We saw it implied with Gregor in S1, but it's so good to see it clearly stated, and to see him in action. It makes me hope he got Cody out too.

It also made me crave a show dedicated entirely to this fight. I once again understand and am okay with the TBB centering solely around the Batch. But it's hard not to be anxious knowing what all the other clones are facing. Which makes me understand Echo even more.

Echo's decision. I knew it would come to a boiling point, trusted it would. I'd hoped that Echo would convince Hunter + co to care, but they have their own priorities. I love Echo more bc he decided he couldn't walk away.

He said that his place was with the Batch, and I like to think that he found some kind of home with them. But unlike the rest of them, he sees the rest of the clones as his brothers too. I hope this isn't the last we see of him, but I know he is loved and respected with Rex.

These episodes were a wealth of nostalgic locations, and seeing each one caused such a beautiful ache. I love all the lush new planets explored in the other episodes, but Coruscant felt like coming home.

The specific locations: 79s, the Senate building, Riyo's room that looks so much liked Padmé's, the Martez sisters' place, the clone memorial, the lower levels, even the star destroyer, the stunning of the troops specifically evoking S7's finale. Everything the same but different.

We didn't get to see all of these places with the new graphics, bc TCW S7 only had 4 arcs and TBB S1 covered a lot of newer locations. But gosh what a treat. It was all so beautiful, both aesthetically and metaphorically. Defs need to rewatch so many times to truly appreciate.

Rampart's fall surprised me, bc I did feel he's the lone Big Bad of the show so far, the true embodiment of anti-clone. He's done a lot of unforgivable things and having Palps lock him up isn't satisfying, even if it was surprising. I unfortunately doubt that's the last we've seen of him, though who knows. I admittedly don't care too much either way, but if he's gone, it'll be interesting to see who steps into the next "main antag" shoes, bc I doubt it's Palps himself.

IAN MCDIARMID.

TRULY THE KING.

(or should I say, Emperor)

RIYO.

I'm so glad to see her again

(also, apparently I've been saying her first name wrong all this time??? Am I the only one who's been saying Ree-yo when it apparently shoulda been Rai-yo?)

Rex had his tiddies uncovered the whole time and I was so concerned he'd get shot. i mean he's the only chara guaranteed to live, and I'm also glad he's got a better disguise, but dear please wear some protection

(but yeah ngl it's nice that we got to see him armorless with the beefier new model. I am still remembering TCW Saleucami and thinking my gosh this man is a STICK he is STARVED they ALL ARE. I am always for adding more beef to clones.)

Really curious where they're going with the chips brainwashing the clones. Both Rex and Wrecker appeared conscious of the whole time they were under, trying and unable to stop and remembering it afterwards.

Yet other clones seem to be gradually "waking up," even though many of them likely should have been equally horrified at the moment O66 went live. Rex and the Batch aren't exceptions being Good Guys, the vast majority of the clones are extremely loyal and honorable.

Makes me wonder if after an extended time under the chip's control, that feeling of wrongness/fighting against it fades, until it seems the new ordinary? But then the more time passes, the Order weakens, and they're able to feel more discrepancies, hence the desertions?

The clone assassin definitely seemed super "under" an Order, extremely Off and not himself, like what I'd imagine a freshly O66 clone to be like. Which makes me further curious that Rampart had him (and presumably more like him) under his control. We'll have to see!

But yeah, to conclude: Cody didn't die! (didn't show up!) Named clones I cared about too much in the few minutes we had them DID die and I am still sad but, it could have been worse.

Also huh, not even a glimpse of Crosshair? (feeling a wee bit bad for his fans, that out of the first 8 eps, he's only in one of them...hopefully the next one will be about him ^ ^; )

[foxes-that-run]

Betty

Betty was written with William Bowery. In the credits, Joe is a producer. In the Long Pond Session, Taylor said James and Betty wind up together, but he really put her through it. In the Eras Tour Taylor introduces Betty, (Transcribed Betty Speeches) likening it to HYGTG. She says it is about a teenage boy trying to apologise to the love of his life:

There are songs with a high school metaphor (Betty, August, INTHAF, MA&HBP & Suburban Legends) that have Haylor references. The metaphor of 17 year old James for late teen HS and Betty for Taylor is clearer. To me, I think Augustine is loosely based on Kendall Jenner, but Taylor has also shown she identifies with this role also.

To Vulture Aaron said:

This one Taylor and William wrote, and then both Jack and I worked on it. We all kind of passed it around. This is the one where Taylor wanted a reference. She wanted it to have an early Bob Dylan, sort of a Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan.

It's unusual for Taylor to have a direct throw back musical reference like that play such a role in the song. This may be William Bowery's influence, Taylor said that William Bowery played her a lot of diverse music. Harry Styles has a similar approach.

Lyrics

Betty, I won't make assumptions About why you switched your homeroom but I think it's 'cause of me Betty, one time I was riding on my skateboard When I passed your house It's like I couldn't breathe

The opening reminds me of Wish you Would & Style with him passing her house, now on a skateboard rather than Range Rover. (cute video of Taylor recording the skateboard)

Harry has Asthma and uses oxygen on stage. This last line also reminds me of his anxiety, which Taylor has referred to in New Years Day (squeeze my hand in the backseat of the taxi) and Now that we don't talk ( Did you get anxious though On the way home?)

You heard the rumors from Inez You can't believe a word she says Most times, but this time it was true The worst thing that I ever did Was what I did to you

It's well known that James, Inez and Betty are Blake and Ryan's kids. I always wonder how Inez will feel about this line when she's older.

Here I think her name is standing in for the media, specifically I think of Perez Hilton which was a bigger thing in 2012. This is a call back to when Harry kissed a girl in Australia in April 2012.

The worst thing line is a reference to Where do broken hearts go's line "Counted all my mistakes and there's only one / Standing out from the list of the things I've done / All the rest of my crimes don't come close / To the look on your face when I let you go"

[Chorus] But if I just showed up at your party Would you have me? Would you want me? Would you tell me to go fuck myself? Or lead me to the garden? In the garden would you trust me If I told you it was just a summer thing? I'm only 17, I don't know anything But I know I miss you

In the Long Pond Sessions, Taylor said 'William Bowery' wrote this whole chorus. It includes references to a number of songs about Harry and Taylor's relationship:

HYGTG "Stand there like a ghost / Shaking come the rain, rain / She'll open up the door / And say, are you insane, -ane?"

Cruel Summer "And I snuck in through the garden gate every night that summer just to seal my fate"

Style: " I heard / That you've been out and about with some other girl, some other girl" / He says, "What you heard is true, but I Can't stop thinkin' 'bout you and I" / I said, "I've been there too a few times"

To be so Lonely: "Don't blame me for falling / I was just a little boy Don’t blame the drunk caller / Wasn't ready for it all" and "You said you cared / And you missed me, too"

Betty, I know where it all went wrong Your favorite song was playing From the far side of the gym I was nowhere to be found I hate the crowds, you know that Plus, I saw you dance with him

Suburban Legends "“I am standin’ in a 1950s gymnasium” in Suburban Legends and here Taylor is using a metaphor for a prom or school dance for an event. In Suburban Legends she is proud to be with him, here they are using it as a reason to escape together.

Wildest Dreams "He said, "Let's get out of this town / Drive out of the city, away from the crowds"" and who could blame either of them. I Know Places is also all about the avoiding crowds

The seeing Betty dance with someone else reminds us of Exile (I can see you standing, honey / With his arms around your body), Woman ("While he’s touching your skin He’s right where I should, where I should be") and To be So Lonely "Do you think it's easy being of the jealous kind?"

I was walking home on broken cobblestones Just thinking of you when she pulled up like A figment of my worst intentions She said "James, get in, let's drive" Those days turned into nights Slept next to her, but I dreamt of you all summer long

Cobblestones links it to Cardigan, and indicates it is set in London or New York.

I love 'figment of my worst intentions' for temptation, in Style she sings of him being with someone else and thinking of TS.

Betty, I'm here on your doorstep And I planned it out for weeks now But it's finally sinkin' in Betty, right now is the last time I can dream about what happens when You see my face again The only thing I wanna do Is make it up to you So I showed up at your party

This verse is similar to HYGTG, Wish You Would and The Last Time.

Also this is similar to the leaked Half the World Away "I messed up, you'll be fine / I'm gonna sleep alone tonight / Never gonna be the same"

Yeah, I showed up at your party Yeah, I showed up at your party Will you have me? Will you love me? Will you kiss me on the porch In front of all your stupid friends? If you kiss me, will it be just like I dreamed it? Will it patch your broken wings? I'm only 17, I don't know anything But I know I miss you

The stupid friends like reminds me of Suburban Legends "I had the fantasy that maybe our mismatched star signs / Would surprise the whole school / When I ended up back at our class reunion/ Walkin' in with you" They are both expressing wanting HS and TS to be showing off their relationship, which they kept private.

Standing in your cardigan Kissin' in my car again Stopped at a streetlight You know I miss you

Kissing in cars matches Cardigan "To kiss in cars and downtown bars was all we needed" and also matches the many references to driving.

If I could fly "I'm missing half of me when we're apart"

TBSL "You said you cared / And you missed me, too"

[libraryofneith]

Out of Mind - Chapter 3 (Joel x Reader)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 

Chapter 4

Summary: With no resources, no allies, and a seriously pissed off Robert after you, you're forced to make a choice that will change your life forever. 

Warnings/tags for this chapter: [18+, minors DNI] violence against reader, but I don’t go into too much detail, more of Joel being a dick but it’s kinda justified, more profanity.

"I may be a thief but I honour my word, and I think you will too."

You

Over the years on your own, bouncing from place to place, trying to scrape together a living for yourself, you'd learned how to go unseen. When needed, you could slip from shadow to shadow, watching and waiting, disappearing into dark corners and alleys and emerging the last place anyone would think to look for you. It was what made you such a good thief, it had gotten you out of more scrapes than you cared to remember, it had kept you alive when the odds were stacked against you, and it had completely deserted you tonight.

You stumbled clumsily through street, nook and alley, not paying attention to where you were going, only making sure that you weren't being followed. A stitch tore through your side and the sounds of you gasping for breath echoed through the night as you pressed on unheeding. It wasn't just exhaustion. You were shaken. Tess and Joel had scared you.

You'd really thought you’d had them for a minute, Joel pinned against you, Tess armed but unmoving, but then they'd had to fill your head with all that crap about people hunting you. You weren't an idiot. Most places you'd been, you had a target on your back, and you knew you'd get one here eventually. What you hadn't been expecting was the offer of a safe haven. You hated yourself but part of you believed - or had wanted to believe Tess; the desire to belong, to not have to be constantly looking over your shoulder, to have someone stand up for you winning out over your well-earned scepticism. But in this world anything that seems too good to be true is just that. The minute you'd even contemplated letting down your guard for a second Joel at literally and metaphorically knocked your feet out from under you. Spry for a man his age, can see why Tess likes him so much...

It was stupid. You'd been stupid. And now you were paying the price.

You allowed yourself a quick breather, leaning against some abandoned building that looked like a strong wind would blow it down. You looked again over your shoulder. Didn't look like Tess and Joel were following you.

That was when a hand clamped over your mouth. You flailed helplessly but a strong set of arms pinned your struggling limbs to your sides. Your eyes darted around looking for your attacker but the world went dark as your head was stuffed in a musty smelling sack. Then your hands and legs were tied and you were slung over your someone's shoulders like a bag of potatoes. Your hands squirmed trying to slip their way out of their ties but someone gave a sharp tug.

"Quit it" a harsh voice spat. No southern Texas drawl, so not Joel. This part of town, this time of night, could be anyone. Didn't Tess say you were attracting attention?

You were plunked down unceremoniously on what you were guessing was a chair, the bag ripped off your head, revealing only a dark unlived-in room, empty save for the other chair opposite you and the man whose ass occupied it. Oh shit.

"Robert..."

"You stood me up sweetheart."

"Not my fault, I got held up."

"Well you're here now, you got the stuff?"

"No, I..." you were cut off by a fist plunging into your stomach. Robert's bruiser got ready to land another punch but his boss stopped him.

"Now, we don't want her completely unconscious. What happened?"

"It was stolen." This time it was Robert's fist that connected to your jaw. Lights exploded behind your eyes and you could taste blood.

"Robert please, if you just give me a chance, I'll get it back." The back of a hand - whose hand you couldn't say - struck your cheek, the harsh metal of a ring splitting your skin.

"Even if you could get it back, and I'm not so sure you could - gotta be real with ya babe, this has really shaken my faith in your abilities - whoever stole it from you would probably come looking and it'd be traced back to me. And that's just not worth the trouble, better to cut my losses here."

Your face was on fire. You weren't sure what hurt more, your jaw or your cheek, but dammit if you were walking away empty handed.

"Look Robert, I appreciate you putting your trust in me and I let you down. Maybe I could make it up to you. I'll get you whatever else you want, do you a special discount rate?"

Robert grinned. Fuck what an ugly smile.

"You got a mouth on you. Really starting to get on my nerves. Time to shut you up. Boys..." the two huge men on either side of you stood to attention. "Smash her face in."

You braced yourself, waiting for the first blow when-

"Wait!"

"Tess? Joel?" And just like that, Robert's cool-guy-criminal persona was gone.

"Mind getting your hands off our associate?" Robert shot you and incredulous look.

"She works for you?"

"She's a new recruit, still a lil rough around the edges, breaking her in, you know how it is." You glared but Tess only smirked back. "Anyway, we're responsible for her and all her dealings now."

"So you got what's mine?"

"Jesus Christ yes, we have your stash." She tossed him the anti-depressants. 

"All this fuss over a little bag of pills, honestly. I believe seven ration cards was the agreed upon price."

"Make it five for all this unnecessary stress." Joel looked like he was ready to show Robert what he thought of his five but Tess held him back.

"Five it is, and an apology to the girl for being such a fucking baby."

Robert nodded to his men who delicately loosened your bonds, all their previous brutality gone.

"Sorry kid, should've told me who you worked for." You surveyed him in silence, took a deep breath, then spat a bloody gob at his feet. Robert wrinkled his nose in disgust but Tess was pushing you forwards before you could cause anymore trouble.

"Pleasure doing business with you, as always."

---

Joel

They walked home in silence.

It was taking them much longer than normal but they needed to hang back for the girl shuffling along beside them.

"You ok kid?" She gave Tess a silent stare. Either she didn't feel the need to answer the question or she couldn't. Her jaw was swelling up angrily while the cut on her cheek wept red blood.

"We'll get you sorted once we get home." Nothing else was said until they were safely inside.

"Joel help her, you're better at it than me."

Wordlessly, he found their leftover whisky and a clean rag.

"Sorry, this is gonna sting a little." She gave him a defiant look but when he started dabbing at the cut on her cheek she took in a sharp breath. "Told ya. You're lucky you won't need stitches.”  He remembered seeing Robert's ring stained red from where he'd hit her, the glint of metal underneath the scarlet of her blood and something twisted in his chest. He'd always hated Robert, it wasn't like he didn’t already know what a thug he was, but three guys wailing on a girl half their size... Joel had a sudden urge to go back and find them.

 “Tess, do we have any ice left?"

"Just a few cubes. Looks like we're gonna be drinking our liquor lukewarm for now."

He dropped the ice cubes in a plastic bag and held them up to her face.

"Put this on your jaw, it'll help the swelling." For a while she just sat there, keeping her sullen vigil, but as he turned away he heard a quiet thanks.

"She speaks" Tess quipped, hauling herself up from the couch, to sit across from their new resident.

"Can I get your name?" The girl gave what would've been a playful smile if her face wasn't blowing up.

"Ozymandias King of Kings. And you are?" He and Tess must have simultaneously rolled their eyes.

"Funny. Look, if you don't want to give us your real name that's fine, just so long as I have something to call you other than kid."

"I'm not a kid, I’m 27 fucking years old." she whined, giving them a petulant look.

"Then give us a name and we'll stop calling you that."

"Fine." She took a deep breath like she had to force the next words out. "It’s Ciara."

"Good. I'm sure we'll all get along swell." Tess gave a pointed look at Joel who'd been stood behind her, arms crossed and a glower set in his face the whole time. "Your rooms down the hall, bathroom at the end. Get some sleep, we're gonna want you fresh faced in the morning."

"Nice to meet you Ciara. Here's how things are gonna work from now on. You're gonna do what we say, when we say it. If you don't know something, you learn quick. If you need help, you ask for it, and you steal for us, not from us. In return you get a cut of whatever we make, you get a roof over your head, and anyone who lays a finger on you answers to us. Sound fair to you?" There was hesitation in her eyes, but she nodded.

She shuffled off carefully, cautiously, like if she made one wrong move this would all be snatched away, but the minute she was gone Joel turned on Tess.

"What the hell are you thinking?"

"Girl's got marketable skills."

"She's completely incapable of taking care of herself."

"Not completely, you saw how she was living."

"She'll learn."

"Exposed, taking stupid risks..."

"How long is that gonna take, huh? You got time to teach her how to survive the QZ? Cos I sure as hell don't! And until she learns, what's she gonna do if she gets jumped, when she comes across raiders, FEDRA, clickers? Cos if we're responsible for her and she dies..."

"Walls aren't soundproof guys." Both Tess and Joel jumped as she reappeared from what was now her room. "Look, I know you guys are taking a pretty big chance on me, and since you’re kinda my only option I'm gonna make it work. I may not know as much as you guys but I can take care of myself, as you should know," she said, staring deliberately at the bite mark still visible on Joel's hand. "I may be a thief but I honour my word, and I think you will too."

"We will."

"No." She cut Tess off. "I wanna hear it from him."

"Fine." She smiled slightly and held out her hand. He took it and she brushed her thumb over the indentations her teeth left in his skin.

They held each other's glare for what felt like hours but finally Joel let out yet another exasperated sigh.

"Got yourself a deal."

---

As ever, any feedback or support you’re willing to offer is appreciated. Feel Free to like, comment or reblog - or all three if you’re feeling particularly generous.

[luukeskywalker]

wangxian 28!!

ummmm this is longer than 100 words. and i wanted this to be toxic yaoi because the song for this is F2f by That Handsome Devil but thinking about that hurt my heart for too long so this is what we have instead:

The Sunshot Campaign was a time mostly concocted of horror and grief. Death surrounded Wei Wuxian, usually of his own volition, but it sometimes seemed to cover him like a stinking cloud of rot. 

Of course, digging up dead bodies all the time tends to make you smell like that, but he’s trying for a metaphor here, so let’s try not to take it too literally. 

Comforts were few and far between for him as he marched through battles with hordes of undead at his beck and call (truthfully it was probably only like ten or twenty corpses, but hey, the emotional toll it had on people fought half the battle for him), and he had often taken to really living in the moment as best he could. After all, one wrong move and he’d be no better than the old granny at his side who’d ripped her grandson’s head clean off in the last skirmish. They were both reunited under his service at least, so he didn’t feel too bad about it. 

Anyways, he’d decided to appreciate the little joys in life before it inevitably ended bloody. And one of those little – though he really couldn’t be described as such – joys was just up ahead. 

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian called, grinning past the grime smeared across his face. “Looking good as always. Ah, I’m so jealous!” 

The aforementioned Lan Wangji regarded him and his shambling corpses coolly for a moment. “You look tired,” he said at last. “My tent is already prepared. Rest.” 

Wei Wuxian commanded his corpses to assemble his own tent (they would not do a very good job at it, but he could always fix it up later) and sidled up closer to Lan Wangji’s icelike countenance. “You really did miss me, didn’t you? Already telling me to go to bed…as if I’ll get any rest with you.” He smiled like a fox and grasped Lan Wangji’s arm. “You don’t look tired, but I think you should rest as well.” 

Lan Wangji hesitated, as if he meant to say something else, but allowed himself to be led back to his sleeping quarters. 

What they had wasn’t exactly personal. It didn’t really mean anything. How could it? Either one of them could be dead by morning. Probably not Lan Wangji – he was too powerful, too beautiful, too skilled and righteous. But Wei Wuxian had no such faith in his own fate. He was cunning and powerful, sure, and could take a hit like nobody’s business (just ask his ass after one night with Lan Zhan), but he had thrown away his destiny for his own reasons. He didn’t expect to live long. Hopefully just long enough to end this war. 

So what if he decided to indulge in a few nights of carnal lust every so often? He had the right. And Lan Wangji was more than willing to enjoy it with him. 

When all this was over, and Wei Wuxian was just another rotting corpse in the ground, Lan Wangji could easily move on from his wartime nights of passion and find himself a nice wife. He’d already be great at his husbandly duties. 

“Why don’t you get comfortable, and let me take care of you.” Wei Wuxian gestured to Lan Wangji’s bed. “You’ll feel much better in no time.” 

“I’m not the one who looks like a corpse,” Lan Wangji said. “Lie down.” 

He brokered no argument, and soon Wei Wuxian found himself nestled onto the surprisingly comfortable bed. 

“I do not look like a corpse,” Wei Wuxian said, more for the sake of arguing than actually meaning it. Lan Wangji was always more fun when he was a little mad. “I just smell like one.” 

Lan Wangji blinked at him, then reached out to wipe off some old corpse dirt on Wei Wuxian’s cheek. “Two things can be true,” he said. 

This wasn’t how this usually went, and Wei Wuxian had to admit he felt a little off-kilter. By now, Lan Wangji should have pounced on him, but he was…not doing that. “Am I really so disgusting that you won’t sleep with me?” He tried to make his offense sound over the top, but it came off as almost genuine, which made the whole thing so much worse. “I’m offended.” 

“You need rest more than I need you,” Lan Wangji replied. “Sleep. There is always later.” 

No there isn’t, Wei Wuxian wanted to say, but found his eyes drifting shut before he could open his mouth. It was so warm in there…how long had he been so cold? 

When the war was over, so was their relationship. Lan Wangji didn’t need Wei Wuxian’s reputation dragging him down a dark, single-plank bridge. But Wei Wuxian held the warmth from that night in his mind for the rest of his life (and the next one after that).

[keelt9]

Chapter 11

Juniper

Masterlist

Jill and I meet on Sunday morning for a little walk on the beach; girls time, hoping with a calm and fresh morning will help to put my mind in order before a new week starts. 

“Phoenix asked for you yesterday.” I keep my eyes in the sand as we walk.

“I know, she called me, but actually I don’t have the spirit for going to Hard Deck.” It’s true after the talk with Maverick my mind keeps having an unfair fight against my heart and the stupid butterfly in my stomach. 

“Is it because of Rooster?” I hate Jill and her sharpness, I just giggle and smile. 

“Today we don’t want to be smooth, huh?” She laughs and pulls me to sit in where the sea and the beach meet.

“Do you like him?” I take off my cap, I don’t like to lie to Jill, but the situation was awful enough to involve more people. 

“I don’t know and I’m being honest.” I see to her eyes, if I learn something crucial to my father is the ability to lie with a cold head. 

“Jesus, you are hard to read with that look.” We smile but she doesn’t let this go easily. “Because if you do, it’s ok, I mean you are two adults who can like or dislike the people you want, I don’t see anything wrong.”

“We are pilots from the navy plus, come on Jill, we know those guys, they are like bees, they love to go from flower to flower.” I start to form a circle with my finger in the sand.  “No, nah, I don’t want to be another flower, I just want to be the only girl for someone.” 

We play with the water that reaches our feet. “First of all, what the hell with that metaphor, second you hate the flower thing and third… I hate it because you have a little bit of a reason.” She splashes me water. “But what if he is different?” 

I cross my legs. “I don’t want to hang on to the if thing.” She put her head on my shoulder. “Besides, right now I have more important things to think about. I want to keep kicking Shooter’s ass.” We both laugh.

“Ok, we are on the limit, Sky takes the lead.” Mike says and we start to go straight to a faster and cloudy nosedive, the weather in which the mission will take place will be worse and with a huge chance of unexpected storms, so get down fast as we can and with enough control are vital.

“4 seconds for the turn.” I say having Shooter, Panther and Justice in my back, with poor vision we turn and face the mountains in a blink and the maneuver continues. After the maneuver ends, we get back for the final review, still 2.25 seconds short, in a mission that means an airplane lost. 

“Is a good one, Sky. We still have time.” Shooter says, what I recognize from him is he always keeps professional when the life of someone of us is on the line. 

“In one second we’ll be dead.” I say walking away. 

“Sky, Shooter is right, we still have a week and a couple of days to reduce that time.” Barry says catch up with me. “Also, who is the fastest in the sky, the Greyhound name it’s not just an aleatory name.” He puts his helmet on one more time. “Let’s try one more time.”

That day we practiced another 2 times; by the end of the day Hondo gave us the good news: we reduce the time to 2:01, give us the relief we make our goal. In the locker room Jill and Justice are in deep conversation about last Saturday night. 

“Hangman always get out with a girl.” Jill says and watches herself in the mirror. “But I think maybe one of the daggers is already trying to settle down.” Jill opens her eyes and turns to face her. 

“Spit out!” Jill sits beside her and makes us laugh.

“Well, the rumors said the girl who was with Rooster that night is becoming a regular one, even Fanboy made a joke about one of them is already down.” It can’t be more perfect, a good reason for keeping the distance and Jill knows too for the look she gives to me, and I wink to her. “I’m dying to know if it’s true or not.” Justice stands and grabs me by the shoulders, and I know she wants me to dig and find. 

“Nah, nah, it’s not my business.” I shake her off and put my black t-shirt.

“Please Sky, you are practically one of them.” She follows me. 

“I’m not.” I say and open the door. “See you tomorrow girls.” I hear whimpers from Justice and the laugh from Jill.

In the parking lot I see Bob walking to the main entrance and even though I try to avoid him, it didn’t work. “Stop right there Lieutenant.” I smile and salute him. “Where have you been? We wanted to celebrate with you last weekend, but Nat said you say no.” He lowers my arm and laughs. 

“I must remind you that I have a deployment in two weeks. When she called me, I found it hard to keep my eyes open.” I put my cap on and smiled at him.

“Also, I already hear you have fun.” I wink to him, but he has a shadow of panic. “W…Wha…Who told you?” Before an answer comes, Rooster and Nat join us. 

“There you are a little slippery.” Nat pushed my cap and Rooster smiled. 

“Hi I’m fine, and you?” She laughs when she sees Bob's expression. 

“What?” I save him for a sure joke. 

“I was telling him I already heard you had a great time the other night.” Now the tree of them has the same expression. “And… I heard one of you is almost down.” I lean my head in the direction of Rooster. “For your faces I think it is true.” No one speaks and that makes me giggle.

“God, I just say one of you is already taken and it’s like you see a ghost.” I get out the car keys. “I have to go guys, I really need a good dinner, but if you are free maybe Friday night you can tell me who is the mystery one.” I pass to his side and they just wave to me.

My father is right after all, the pilots ran to the compromise until they found the one.

*

“Are you alright?” Bangman asked us when we were on the way to the airplanes. “Jesus, you have a weird look.” Phoenix throws a mad eye to me. “Don’t tell me, but focus, ok?”

“Rooster.” She says and I know what is coming. “It’s over, don’t mess around her.” I try to speak but she continues. “One thing was she found you with Lilian once but now the rumors, false or true, put an idea in her mind, don't involve her.” She ends and walks to her airplane. 

I already have Mav, now Phoenix against me and if Penny thinks the same, I’m done; when the truth for that night is I told Lilian we can’t keep seeing us the same way, just like friends, of course that doesn’t change the fact we talked all night. 

*

Thursday morning begin like another day, the team is getting better every day and the times is reducing, we expect for the middle of the next week we already get it, ambitious goal but we already are proving is possible.

“Sky, morning.” Justice catches in the front door. “Have you heard?” We stop for I can stretch a little bit my legs, after the accident my left knee is weaker than the right, doctors said when you injury the muscles in the way I did I have so much luck of be back in airplane. 

“No, what’s up?” She has a huge smile on her face.

Have a training session with Maverick. It's a pretty good thing the problem is when we get into the hangar, we aren’t the only ones. A few members of the dagger team are already there too.

“We are complete now.” Maverick point when he saw us coming in. “Please take a seat.”  One side Dagger team and the other us with a confused look on our faces. 

“As you may hear, the Greyhound team has an important deployment in one week, and the admirals order me to give them a training lesson while people from the Dagger team are the most, well, polemic, whoever they are great.”We look at each other. 

“The superiors start to notice a breach in their unity, and we are going to help them to fill these gaps one more time.” Maverick stands in the middle. “With a volleyball dogfight.” 

The cheers from us can’t wait when he ends the sentence, the other side looks at us with narrow eyes. “Oh, I forgot to mention.” Maverick says walking to the exit. “There are 3 of this side who were volleyball champions in middle school.” Fanboys open and close her mouth. 

“Yes, we were sir.” Tom says standing and follows Maverick to the door.

Team of tree, the first match is Justice, Mike and Jill against Bradley, Fanboy and Bob. I must be honest, that's the most equivalent game, only Justice was champion in the third year of middle school. Even though the other three were ingenious and won the match just for one point. The second match, Tom, Barry and I against Payback, Phoenix and Hangman; Barry and I won the championship two times in middle school and with constant talking between us we put them in a really bad position.

Three games after finally Bradley and I are face to face, but I trust in Mike and Barry will sort this out, it won’t be easy he has Phoenix and Hagman in his side.

“Sky!” Shooter throws the ball to me, two points down for us, but if we win this will be the absolute win. I didn’t take the eyes of the ball, we both know I’m not in a good position, but Barry does. 

“Tiger.” He watches with a quick eye and sees an empty space between Phoenix and Rooster and with a fast move he hits with direction to that space. 

“POINT!” Jill screams and we hit our hands. 

“Go to the front Sky, I just cover, that way Barry can give it to you in a blink.” Shooter coordinates us, we nod and put our hands together. “Let’s go.” 

When we get the ball in the position we need, I see in front of me, Rooster, of course he is taller than me but between Hangman and he have an empty space, I take a few steps back and when we got the position for make our move, I jump and hit the ball, just a few centimeters and Phoenix get but the ball, but touch the sand.

“Greyhound wins.” Maverick blows the whistle and the rest of the team run as we celebrate. Mike and Tom grab me by the arms and legs and run to throw me to the sea, followed by Justice and Jill pushing them. Barry didn’t have another option to join us. 

“Come one guys, get out and finish this properly.” Mav says and reunites us in a circle, the lesson where even if we lost someone, as long as we talk and communicate between us the confidence used to have not lost, just increases.

“It’s all for today.” He smiles at us. “Why don’t you finish early. It’s on me.” All scream and clap to him. 

I turn away from grabbing a towel from my bag when I hear someone scream my name, it’s a familiar voice but not for the recent years, I lift my eyes, and I can’t avoid scream.

“DANNY!”