#brennan not knowing how to respond

[rocks-in-space]

Once again Aabria has said something on the Fireside that has rocked me to my core in its level of depth of analysis of her character and the world.

“In the same way that Suvi’s irateness at the individualness of Orima is based on, ‘I will consider all spirits people and hold them to the same standard because I know a spirit, and I call him brother,’ that realization that Great Spirits do what they do and they're sort of beyond normal morality and applying normal lenses, is inside of Suvi now as she looks at Steel. I think that Steel as the sort of avatar of the Citadel and her disregard for the Grenaux children, like, “yeah, lots of bad things happen all the time,” she is no different than Orima in Suvi’s mind. She operates at the same scale with the same disregard for the individual, and I think if something interesting is being said about nuance, it is something about scale and size of purview, and how that can lose the importance of like individual care and how you can affect life on a singular and specific and intimate basis.”

Brennan: “…I think if you can level mountains and dry seas with the flick of a wrist, it has ceased to matter whether your origin is mortal or spirit … Maybe there's something about that level of power that removes you from the human heart of the world.”

I'm thinking lots of thoughts about this, mainly in relation to the coven witches as mortals with this level of nigh-spiritual power. Especially Hakea, who I feel really sits at that lost-in-the-sauce of scale and purview but eventually gave up and responded with apathy rather than action. But as she was awoken by Ame, she has returned to Steel- or Orima-level "Let's tear that tower down" rather than an awareness of "singular and specific and intimate" life.

It also reflects really interestingly on Grandmother Wren, as another mortal with this level of purview, likely even more so than Steel. It is her station to not remove herself from the human heart of the world; has she done that? From what we know, it seems so. But maybe being the witch of Toma was extremely important to her for keeping that level of intimate perspective. I wonder what she would have become without it. But also, we know that she had failures as a witch, and perhaps some of them did come from being too focused on the big picture of the worlds of mortals + spirits. Or alternatively, perhaps from having this extreme power but not considering the big picture enough. If you have the power to operate at this scale and pull your punches, is there something to criticize there as well? It certainly seems like the other witches think so, but I’m not sure I agree. (Thinking about “I refrain from fights I know I can win all the time”)

Also as an aside, this conversation I think dovetails beautifully with this line form EXU Calamity:

"Are all of you the heroes that you strove to be, or the villains that from time to time you might've been afraid you were becoming? In a world with this much power, what can be said to be the difference?"

[scorpioriesling]

All the fourth wing males x reader maybe as a punishment for nearly getting herself killed or something but up to you

You're Pushing It

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Xaden x Liam x Garrick x Ridoc x Brennan x Dain x Bodhi x reader

Warning(s): implied smut

Summary: A series of one-shots for each character pertaining to their implied "punishment" for doing something that put you in danger.

SR’s Note: These aren't real spicy, but more of the lead up before the spice... thank you for the request, and I hope you absolutely <3 it!

Tags: @mellowmusings @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @velarisdusk @nctsawrus @freakishfandomfiend @lreadsstuff @desprrssooo-espresssooooo (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Xaden

"What in Malek's name were you doing?" He roared, following you as you stormed off toward your dorm. You huffed, not even wanting to respond.

"What I thought was right!" You shouted, not even turning to look back at him. Before you knew it, his hand was curling around your bicep, yanking you to look at him.

"You could've been killed, Y/N! Why didn't you-"

"Oh please," you rolled your eyes, reaching behind you to twist the doorknob. The door swing open, and you turned to strut inside. However, your boyfriend wasn't having any more of your attitude.

"Maybe you didn't hear me the first time," his voice came out in a growl as he grabbed both of your arms, shoving you against the back of the door hard enough for it to swing shut. Your breath caught in your throat as his grip tightened, and his lips tickled the shell of your ear.

"You. Could have. Been. Killed," he says slowly, his lips brushing the skin of your neck as he continued on. You let out a breath as his teeth softly bit the skin there, the sensation driving you wild.

"Keep up this attitude and I'll have to punish you more for it."

✧･ﾟ: *

Liam

Your boyfriend continued to lightly massage your back as you continued your recounting of events, though his kneads and presses were growing firmer.

"And you... didn't get hurt?"

You shook your head, though the motion was lost as you were in fact face down on his bed. He sighed, moving to the lower muscles on your back next.

"Y/N, I am really proud of you as a rider -- but don't you think going on these forbidden quests will, I don't know, get you in trouble?"

You laughed.

"I really do enjoy the quests, and besides; there's no punishment they could give me that I can't take."

Liam chuckled, his hands moving to grab and knead your ass. His fingers slid lower, rubbing near the most sensitive bundle of nerves below.

"I may have a punishment of my own that I'd like to watch you struggle to take."

✧･ﾟ: *

Garrick

Your boyfriend stalked slowly from one end of the room to the other, eyeing you as you continued your story. His gaze grew more and more lethal when you got to the most chaotic part; the part where you were put in true danger.

"And you're telling me this because... what? You want me pissed off?"

You huffed.

"No, Garrick -- I'm trying to tell you how I held my own. Why can't you see that I'm just trying to-"

He crossed the room in an instant, pushing you back on the bed and lacing his fingers with yours above your head. You squeaked in surprise, and you watched as his gaze darkened.

"No, what you need to understand is that this is exactly what gets me mad," he says lowly, his lips merely ghosting over yours. "You putting yourself in risky situations like that is... just plain ridiculous."

You frowned.

"I did it for everyone's gain-"

He dipped his head, smashing a bruising kiss to your lips. He yanked away seconds later, opening the nightstand draw in favor of the silk ties you kept for... well...

"Big mistake," he said, taking your wrists again in his hands. He pulled you to the headboard, making quick of tying the ribbons around the metal and securing your arms above you. "Hopefully it's one you'll learn from."

✧･ﾟ: *

Ridoc

"This isn't funny, Y/N. Do I look like I'm laughing?"

You rolled your eyes and giggled, trying to take your jokester of a boyfriend's expression seriously.

"No, not yet," you grinned. "But come on, Ridoc, you're always laughing!"

His nostrils flared as he stared at you.

"Not about this, Y/N."

You waved him off, making for your vanity to brush out your hair. Sure, did you put yourself in a dangerous situation? Yes. But did your boyfriend need to make a big deal about it? Hell no!

In seconds he appeared behind you, his hands palming your waist and turning you to face him. He lifted you swiftly atop the wooden desk, and your ass hit the surface with a rather harsh landing.

"Ridoc-"

"You just don't get it, do you." His words were low in tone, the anger finally creeping in. Your eyes widened as one hand gripped your butt, the other coming to shove beneath your waistband. You groaned as his fingers dipped below your panties, finding you already ready for him.

"If you're so tough, you can handle a punishment, right?"

✧･ﾟ: *

Brennan

He stood immediately as you entered the office, an armed guard tugging you forward through the doorway. You glared at the metal-faced male, showing all signs of frustration with the situation you'd been put in.

Before you can speak, the soldier opens his mouth.

"Caught her just beyond the borders, sir," he says, holding your arm steadfast despite your wiggling. "She was in bad shape when we got her."

Brennan sighs, an impassive look flashing across his face. "Did she have her dragon with her?"

"N-no, sir."

He looked down, quiet fury raging in his eyes. When he looked up again, he only looked at the nobleman. "Release her, please. I'll take it from here."

You opened your mouth to protest when the guard let go, at least try and defend yourself. However, the guard exited the room and Brennan didn't let you get a word in.

"Bren, you have to understand-"

"I don't want to hear it."

You flinched, your brows knitting in confusion. "Brennan, seriously-"

"You knew the orders, and you disobeyed them anyway." He laced his fingers, pressing his pointer fingers to his temple. "You know you're in deep for this one."

You rolled your eyes as he sat again behind his desk. "Okay, first of all, I'm perfectly capable of speaking for myself, thank you-"

"Close that mouth, and get over here."

Your brows rose as you stepped forward, not daring to disobey again. Although the usual punishment from your boyfriend was far from "bad"...

"Bend over."

You did as instructed, getting to your knees and lying your torso over his legs. He yanked down your leather pants, pulling them to your knees before smoothing a hand over your ass.

"You've been a bad girl, Y/N -- and crimes cannot go unpunished."

✧･ﾟ: *

Dain

"I was just doing what was right," you griped, your hands on your hips. "You surely weren't going to help them."

Dain glared at you, mirroring your stature.

"Yeah, I wasn't -- sorry I have a girlfriend I want to come home to at the end of the day." He shrugged. "I prefer that than risking my life on a death wish mission, thank you very much."

You laughed humorlessly at his admission.

"You'd let all of them die!" You shouted, the wind whipping across the flight field drowning out your words. "You should've gone with me, Dain -- you are the Wingleader, aren't you?"

In an instant, your boyfriend was before you, his dominant hand wrapped lightly around your throat.

"You watch it, now," he warned, his gaze drifting to your lips for a fraction of a second. You glared furiously up at him, but he still pulled you in for a quick, bruising kiss nonetheless.

"How you speak to your Wingleader will effect how much he will punish you later for it."

✧･ﾟ: *

Bodhi

"So what," your boyfriend panted, punching at the bag before him. "You figured involving yourself in that type of situation was the best course of action?"

You shrugged as you leaned against the wall, watching your boyfriend's hits get harder and harder.

"Yeah, I mean -- we came out sucessful, didn't we?"

Bodhi's punches halted as a humorless laugh tumbled from his lips. His hands rest on his hips as he looked down, shaking his head slowly.

"You're impossible." He said, looking up at you again. Your brows narrowed.

"C'mon, you know it was the right thing to do," you reasoned, making way for the mat to begin stretching. You'd just gotten down on all fours when Bodhi's body heat became present behind you, his pelvis pressing into your ass.

"The right thing to do, huh?" He tsked, his hands grabbing your hips.

"The right thing to do is to listen to me when I tell you it's too dangerous. Since you can't seem to remember that, maybe you need a little reminder."

✧･ﾟ: *

[angstywaifu]

Secret Relationship - Brennan Sorrengail x Reader Riorson

A/N: You guys seem to really want Brennan in a secret relationship with an older sister of Xaden. I literally have 4 requests for this. So I’m just gonna mash them all together. So for the 4 of you that requested some Brennan with Xaden’s older sister. Enjoy.

Prompts/Requests: Brennan and Xaden older sister who have a relationship while at Basgiath and reunite in Aretia and she finds out he's alive. Xaden walking in on Brennan and his older sister. Warnings: Mentions of death, Fluff and minor smut.

Masterlist | Support Me

Home. I hadn’t been here in so long. But it feels like a day hasn’t passed since I was last here. Thankfully most of the damage from all those years ago has been repaired, only a few spots not looking quite how they use to. Part of me was annoyed Xaden had requested my help and appearances elsewhere, but it needed to be done. And now, after all these years, I was home.

My dragon turns and banks downwards towards the clearing below where a few people await our arrival. I can easily spot Xaden amongst them. Even from here I can tell how much he looks like our father. Gods, I could even mistake him for him if I looked quick enough.

As soon as my dragons feet touch the ground I jump from their back, rushing towards Xaden who is already heading towards me. Immediately he pulls me into his arms and crushes me into a hug. I swear he’d grown again since I’d last saw him. His head easily resting atop my own. So much for being the little brother.

“You need to stop growing. You’re meant to be my little brother.” I joke as I step out of his arms.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Wait till you see Garrick then.”

I go to respond, but as Garrick’s familiar face appears from behind Xaden i stand their shocked. He’s easily a few inches taller than Xaden. Last time I’d seen Garrick was just before the rebellion had started, and back then he wasn’t that much taller than me. Now I just reached over his shoulder.

“Bloody hell. I’m going to need some heeled boots to stand next to you guys, I don’t like this feeling short thing.” Both of them laughing at me.

”Don’t worry, Xaden’s girlfriend can make you feel tall.” Garrick teases, earning a glare from Xaden.

”Girlfriend? What happened to Cat? Weren’t you engaged to her or something?” Least that was the last I’d heard from Xaden. Though we didn’t really talk about it much.

”Don’t get me started about it.” Xaden says with a sigh. “And she’s not my girlfriend. It’s…. Complicated.”

I shake my head. “What did you do?”

”What didn’t he do.” Garrick jokes before stepping out of Xaden’s reach as he goes to shove him away.

Gods, I’d missed this. I hadn’t been alone while I was away, having a squad of my own who had chosen to pretend to be dead and do anything Xaden and the rebellion needed of us. But nothing beat the feeling of being around the ones you called your family. The ones you loved. The ones you would do anything for. I push down the feeling of sadness that wants to creep its way in. Push down the urge to look over my shoulder at the spot I last saw them that day.

“Come on, let me take you to your room.” Xaden says, ignoring Garrick who is currently chuckling to himself before turning away and walking towards the our home.

I quickly hurry after him despite the fact I know the way without him. We fall into a comfortable silence as we walk together. Neither of us needing to speak as we take in the feeling of being back here together for the first time in a long time.

It was odd walking these halls with Xaden. It felt familiar, but also not at the same time. Last time we both did this we were a lot younger, a lot was different, and a lot more people were alive. The usual commotion of the house no longer there. Least not the commotion I was use to.

Xaden pushes open the door to my bedroom, holding it open for me as I walk past him. Not a single thing had changed. It was exactly as I’d left it. Except for the bed. I’d left it in a mess last time I was here. Hopefully who ever made it had also changed the sheets. I hated to think how gross they’d be after all these years.

“You doing ok?” Xaden asks after a few moments of me walking around the room.

I nod. “I will be. It just feels…. Weird. Being back here I mean. Everything is so different now, but this place still looks the same.”

”You get use to it after a few days. I felt the same when we first got back here properly a few weeks back.” He tells me before a soft knock sounds at the door.

I furrow my brow in confusion, who could be knocking at my door? It can’t be Bodhi, he would have just barged in here, pulling me into one of his hugs, which I had a feeling would be a lot more bone crushing than they use to be the last time I saw him. I hated to think how much he had grown since I’d last seen him if Xaden and Garrick were anything to go by.

”Promise to not get angry.” Xaden says as he looks back at me, as he walks towards the door.

“Why would I-“

My words die on my tongue as Xaden opens the door revealing who had knocked. The same curly auburn hair, shaven on the sides just as I remember. Same amber coloured eyes, now just with a few lines at the edges. Same indent from where his dimple sits when he smiles. All I can do is stand here and look at him.

There’s no fucking way he’s there. I have to be hallucinating. He can’t be here. I watched him die. Watched Naolin try to save him. Watched Naolin kill himself trying to save him. He steps into the room, nodding at Xaden in greeting who nods back as if this is normal. Why is Xaden not shocked like I am? How does Xaden even know him? What the hell is going on?

I’m jolted from my thoughts as Xaden steps out of the room and closes the door behind him, leaving Brennan and I alone for the first time in years. Brennan cautiously walks towards me, almost like he’s approaching a dragon during threshing.

“Hi.” He says as he stops a few feet away from me, fidgeting with his hands ever so slightly.

“Hi? After all these years of making me think you’re dead, all you say is hi?” I say harshly, watching as he swallows nervously.

”I didn’t really know what else to say. How to explain what’s happened.”

”How about starting with how to hell you’re alive?” I snap at him.

”Right, that might be a good place to start.” He says quietly before walking over to the bed and sitting on the edge, resting his arms on his knees as he leans forward and looks down at his hands. “Whatever Naolin did worked. Clearly not straight away, but it worked somehow.”

”Least he didn’t die for nothing.” I add, Brennan nodding in agreement. “Have you been here this whole time?”

Part of me wants him to say no, to make this a little easier. But as I look over at him and meet his gaze I already know the answer.

”Yes. The rebellion took me in, healed me and looked after me. All without knowing who I was. And when you’re brother came back, he put me in a leadership position, help run things while he was at Basgiath.”

All this time Brennan had been the one calling the shots in Xaden’s absence. Keeping everything running while Xaden couldn’t. He’d been the one giving me my orders and updates.

”Lieutenant Colonel Aisereigh. That’s you isn’t it?” I ask, even though I know the answer.

Yet again he nods. I shake my head in disbelief, racking my head for any sign or hint that it was him in those letters. But I know there wasn’t. Otherwise I would have picked up on it. Seen something that hinted it was him.

“Trust me when I say I wanted to tell you.” He says as he stands and walks over to me. “So many times I wanted to give you some sort of hint that would make you realise. But I couldn’t risk it.”

I take a step back and avert my gaze. He’s right. I hate that he’s right. But it doesn’t stop the hurt. The betrayal I’m feeling. Even though there’s a larger part of me that wants to jump into his arms and never let go. Even though it had been years, there was a part of me that could never get over him.

“I get it. I understand.” I say, trying to hide the hurt in my voice.

I gasp as he reaches out and grasps my hand in his and pulls me towards him. I try to pull away but he just grips my hand tighter, his other hand coming to rest on my hip. I keep my eyes lowered, focusing on one of the buttons of his jacket.

“Mo Chroí, look at me. Please.” He pleads as he pulls me closer.

I can’t help but look up at him as he addresses me with the Tyrrish phrase he use to use all those years ago. The same one my father would use when I was little. As my eyes meet his, he smiles down at me, his dimple becoming more obvious at the movement.

“There she is.” He whispers, his hand letting go of mine as he cups my cheek.

I’m not sure what comes over me, but I grasps his jacket in my hands and pull him down to me. His breath hitches, warm against my skin as his face hovers just inches from mine. For a moment, time slows. The sound of our breathing fills the space between us, and I can feel his heartbeat racing beneath the layers of fabric.

He opens his lips, but I silence his words by pressing my lips to his. The world falls away, and all that remains is the heat of the kiss, the way his hands move hesitantly to my waist, then quickly righten as if he’s afraid to let me go. Afraid to lose this moment. I don’t know if this is right, or if I’ll regret this later, but right now, none of it matters. Right now, he’s here and alive, and so am I, and that’s enough.

I loosen my grip on his jacket, reaching up to push the material from his body, Brennan manoeuvring his arms to let the clothing fall to the floor. I feel his eyes on me, his presence commanding every inch of space between us. I can feel the heat radiating from him, an intoxicating warmth that wants to draw me in.

”Are you sure?” His voice is low, husky, and laced with something that feels like both desire and restraint.

I now, swallowing hard, my own voice barely above a whisper as I grasp the bottom of his shirt in my hands. “Yes.”

My heart races as I fumble to pull the material up his torso, Brennan releasing me from his grasp to reach down and pull the fabric from his own body. I don’t know what I expected him to look like, but it wasn’t this. With the material now gone, it reveals the sharp lines and smooth planes of his chest, freckles dotted here and there from training outdoors more than likely.

Brennan reaches out and pushes my jacket from my arms, throwing the clothing to the corner of the room before quickly grabbing my shirt in his hands and pulling it up my body. His lips capture mine again, this time tentative as though testing the waters. But the second I respond, threading my fingers through his hair and pulling him closer, something shifts. The kiss deepens, a fire igniting between us, burning away any common sense or anger I had left.

I push him back towards my bed, Brennan stumbling backwards as his knees hit the edge, grabbing my hips and pulling me into his lap, my legs sitting either side of his as I straddle him. I can feel the heat of his breath against my skin as his lips trail down my jawline, grazing the sensitive spot just below my ear, sending shivers cascading down my spine.

”Gods, I’ve missed you.” He mumbles against my skin as he kisses down my neck causing me to arch into his touch, a moan escaping my lips.

He turns his head back up to me, his lips ghosting over mine as the door to my room swings open.

”You better not have killed my-” Xaden starts as he walks into the room, stopping in his tracks as he sees me straddling Brennan on my bed, both of us half dressed.

Seconds tick by as he just stands there and looks at us as we both stare back.

”Well least you haven’t killed him.” He says with a smirk.

I growl at him before grabbing the closest thing to me, which happens to be a pillow, hurling it towards him as he dodges it with ease as he closes the door behind him, his laughter echoing in the hallway.

”Least you don’t look like you want to murder me anymore.” Brennan mumbles against my jaw as he presses soft kisses along it in an effort to get my attention back to him.

”Don’t push your luck.”

[skateboard-of-sickness]

On the topic of Wealwell getting sick (per the post by @magical-girl-coral and the tags) possibly being a coping mechanism or response to the house they grew up in, YES it totally could be an anxiety response and I would like to add to it! All of the brothers that have had speaking lines have shown coping mechanisms in response to their father's treatment (in my opinion)

Samwell is the oldest, and obviously one of the favorites if not THE favorite. He might have gone through some parentification (I can touch on this later) but he has definitely gotten protective of the baby of the family, Maxwell.

Hatwell has responded to being one of the favorites by just being such an asshole. He doesn't have to bear the brunt of the emotional abuse and he punches down on Max just like their father, probably to ensure he stays in their dad's favor.

(I have a lot to say about Wealwell and Max so these ones are gonna be long sorry)

Obviously Wealwell, when faced with anything stressful throws up. He stood up for Max after getting sick, but his first reaction was to vomit. Brennan says he throws up a lot, as a long standing thing with history. No one is shocked he got sick. This is a normal response for him to anxiety and he pushes past it anyway because he doesn't want their dad to be mean to Maxwell, obviously there's a reason, probably a history of their dad being emotionally abusive. He can handle death threats, he can't handle emotional turmoil. Not knowing where he stands in a conversation. When Pappy is trying to kill him, it's clear where they stand. A firm line is drawn. His dad never gave him that, he probably walked on eggshells to stay in good graces with his dad. The threats give him no room to guess where he's at.

Max has a very obvious response; open rebellion. He knows his dad doesn't love him, he doesn't care. He is gonna be a rowdy, and the only reason he's hiding it even a little is so he can go to school. His father is emotionally, verbally and financially abusive. He is being controlled, and the first time he takes control for himself his father sends the government after him. His father already hates him, and he knows he's probably disowned. But he took control and did what he needed to because he didn't want to listen anymore. He tried to break away to save his family in his grandfather's way. It seems like his grandfather cared for Max the most, maybe he saw how he was being treated and wanted to give him a break from his father.

"There are six Gotch sons my father cares about" OH right thanks 😃

The Gotch brothers are all coping the best they can, and if these are the responses we KNOW about, what is happening to the other boys?

[callsign-rogueone]

five thirty

Dain Aetos x reader (Love!)

words: 1.0k

🏷️: no book spoilers, no warnings, set the week before fw begins, I decided to split this up so you’ll get Liam in the next one! I just wanted to post something today.

You don’t recognize the pattern of the knock at the door — it isn’t the specific rhythm your friends use to let you know it’s them. No point in answering, then.

The knocking stops, whoever it is outside seemingly giving up. You can roll back over and sleep until ten minutes before formation, like usual.

Then it starts again, louder.

You groan into your pillow, dragging yourself out of bed and grabbing a knife off of your desk before you unlock the door, pulling at Cosa’s power just in case. “…Dain?”

He wrenches his gaze away from the smooth expanse of your bare thighs as he speaks, his cheeks reddening. “Why aren’t you dressed?”

You bring a hand up to yawn, and the sleepy sigh you let out as you exhale stirs something in his chest. “It’s too damn hot for pants,” you answer finally.

He’ll give you that — it’s the second week of July, and the humidity is killer; he hasn’t been sleeping fully clothed either.

You realize he still hasn’t told you why he’s here. “Do you need something?”

“It’s Tuesday,” he responds, as if that should clear things up. “Leadership run?”

“Huh?”

“Every Tuesday and Thursday at 5:30, all the leadership gets together for a group run. Nobody told you about this?”

You really hope he’s fucking with you, but he’s never seemed like the pranky type, too by the book to do anything like this as a joke. “Five thirty,” you repeat, to confirm. “Five thirty in the morning.”

“Yes. Which is in about…” he peers behind you, looking at the clock on your desk. “three minutes.”

You take a deep breath, considering shutting the door in his face and crawling back into bed, consequences be damned, when Garrick appears behind him, also dressed for a workout.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

It’s definitely not a prank. They’d never team up for something like this.

“Told you she’d be pissed,” Garrick says to Dain, grinning. “Now put some clothes on.”

You give him the finger, shutting the door with a gust of air and moving to go get dressed. Stupid fucking deathtrap military school, fucking morale leadership bullshit. If it wouldn’t get you in trouble with Brennan, you’d ask to be demoted just so you won’t have to do this twice a week.

You open the door again, seeing only Dain waiting for you. Of course Garrick would abandon you with him. He probably thinks this whole thing is hilarious.

You move through the hallway in silence, down the flight of stairs and out to the courtyard. The rest of the leadership is nowhere to be seen, but Dain seems to know where you’re going, motioning for you to follow him as he starts off at a steady jog.

You don’t bother to ask how long this run will be, because you know that the answer, whatever it is, is going to be too long. Thankfully he seems to notice that you need a break, slowing to a stop after a quarter mile or so.

“Remind me again why we’re doing this?” you pant, reaching for your waterskin — it’s only half-full, and a little stale, since you haven’t refilled it in a day, but you’ll take what you can get: you feel like you’re dying.

“It’s tradition,” he answers, as if that’s obvious.

“One that I cannot wait to end next year.”

He bristles. “You can’t just decide to end a hundred year old tradition like that.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time someone did,” you mutter.

You see Dain’s eyes soften, but you pull your gaze away quickly, not wanting to have this conversation right now. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

You swipe at your mouth with the back of your hand, not acknowledging the apology. “Come on. We’re behind.”

After another few minutes, you see a pack of at least a hundred headed toward you, likely on the second half of an out-and-back run. “About time you two joined us,” Garrick says, patting you on the back a little too hard as you fall in next to him and Bodhi.

“You were the one who left us behind,” you rasp. “And not everyone is as freakishly tall as you. You’re impossible to make pace with.” Speaking of freakishly tall… “Hold on. Where’s Xaden?”

“Your brother chose not to join us,” Amber Mavis answers, making it clear in her tone that she hates the pair of you — and that she doesn’t respect your self-described relation to the wingleader. As if you didn’t hate her enough already.

You turn your head in her direction, hoping the look on your face makes it obvious how much you despise everything about her. “You’re telling me this is optional?”

“Not for you, princess,” Garrick answers. “When you’re a wingleader, you can decide how to spend your mornings. Until then, you’re here with us.”

Great.

Another knock.

You scrape yourself off the mattress, not bothering with the knife this time: you know it’s Dain, here to wake you up. You’re still sore from the last run — you hadn’t had time to stretch first, and even though you’d missed part of it by being late, it was still too much for you.

“Gimme a minute,” you mumble in greeting, not bothering to close the door as you turn around to find socks and shoes.

“Did you sleep in your running clothes?” he asks, watching your little wisps of air move through the room, straightening up and making your bed.

“Mm,” you reply. “Saves time.”

“Smart,” he comments idly. His eyes catch on the small brown shape floating down onto your pillow — a stuffed bear.

Your cheeks warm as you realize what he’s looking at. “Yes, I brought him with me. He was one of the only things that survived the fire.”

“I understand,” he reassures. “I had a little green dragon for a while. It got lost when we moved outposts. I was inconsolable for a week, apparently.”

“Aw. Did you find it, or just get another one?”

“Neither,” he answers, still looking at the bear. “I just got over it, I guess.”

[luvly-writer]

Aretia: The Duchess of the people

Xaden Riorson x Gamlyn! Reader

Masterlist

Xaden stood just outside the half-finished hall near the village square, arms crossed, half in shadow, watching her.

Y/n was in the middle of it all—dust on her boots, a clipboard in hand, sleeves rolled up and wind tossing her braid over her shoulder. She moved with quiet authority, weaving between workers and townsfolk, checking ledgers, nodding as someone handed her a rolled parchment. One of the elders from the surviving group said something, and Y/n laughed softly, adjusting the Tyrrish-patterned ribbon in her hair as she responded in a mix of Tyrrish and the regional dialect she’d grown up with.

Children peeked out from behind the market stalls, whispering and waving. One of the bakers in Aretia had come down with extra bread. Y/n made sure everyone had some.

Xaden’s chest ached—full and sharp all at once.

She didn’t need a title to be a leader. Didn’t need crowns or courts. She held herself with the weight of her people’s hope and carried it effortlessly. Not once had she missed a report from the rebuilding teams. Not once had she failed to show up to a farmer’s supply drop in Aretia. Even now, she made time to write to both towns weekly, often dragging Ridoc, Sawyer, and Quinn with her to personally check progress in person.

She didn’t rule from a seat—she led from the ground.

Brennan’s voice from weeks ago echoed in his mind: She brings light to all of this.

Xaden understood now more than ever.

Bodhi came up beside him, quiet. “You look like a man watching the sun rise for the first time.”

He didn’t respond at first—just smiled softly, the weight of his shadows quiet for once.

“She doesn’t even realize what she’s becoming,” he said, mostly to himself. “She’s already leading two towns like she was born to it.”

Bodhi nudged him. “That’s because she leads like she loves—fierce, steady, and all-in. It’s terrifying. And kind of amazing.”

He nodded slowly. “I think I’m going to marry her.”

Bodhi snorted. “Think?”

He didn’t answer. Just kept watching as Y/n turned, caught his gaze from across the square, and smiled at him—bright and tired and soft around the edges.

And Xaden knew, deep in his bones, that no matter what title came next, she was already more than any duchess. She was the heart of it all.

Later that night...

The moon hung high over Aretia, silver light spilling through the open balcony of their room. The fireplace crackled gently, casting warm shadows across the walls. Y/n sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing at her shoulder with tired fingers, dirt smudged faintly on her cheek and the ends of her braid starting to fray. She hadn’t even bothered changing out of her worn tunic yet.

Xaden stepped behind her quietly and placed his hands on her shoulders. She sighed at his touch—melting back into him slightly as he started kneading into the muscle, thumbs pressing in slow circles.

“You’re tense,” he murmured.

“There’s a lot to do,” she whispered. “The northern well’s still unstable. And the baker’s wife is expecting, so she can’t carry heavy crates anymore, and we still need someone to—”

“Y/n,” he interrupted gently, dipping his head closer to her ear. “It’s past midnight.”

“I know,” she murmured, voice small. “I just… there’s always more.”

He pressed a kiss to the side of her neck and leaned in until his chin rested lightly on her shoulder. “You don’t have to carry it all alone.”

She was quiet for a moment, fingers curling in the fabric of her tunic. Then, softer than before:

“I wasn’t trying to be a good leader,” she said. “I just saw things that needed to be done. People that needed help. I don’t know how to be anything else.”

Xaden slowly sat beside her, brushing a bit of wind-tangled hair behind her ear. “You don’t need to try, Y/n. You already are. That’s what makes you different. You don’t lead for power. You lead because your heart doesn’t let you ignore the people around you.”

She flushed, the words sinking in, her eyes turning down toward her hands. “I’m just… me.”

Xaden leaned forward and cupped her cheek, lifting her face gently so she’d meet his eyes.

“You’re the kind of leader I’d follow into battle without question,” he said. “You’re the reason your people are starting to believe in rebuilding again. And whether or not you see it, they do. I do.”

Her lip wobbled just slightly, and he leaned in, kissing her softly—slow and grounding.

When they pulled apart, she leaned her forehead against his chest, voice muffled. “I really love you.”

He smiled into her hair. “Good. Because I plan on reminding you every day that you’re more than enough for this world.”

They stayed like that for a long time, wrapped in each other and the quiet promise of everything they were building—not just towns, but a future.

Xaden has stayed thinking what he could do to aliviate the stress a little from Y/n. Between meetings with the council, battle briefs, Venin moving quickly through the borders, Violet and the squad looking for something to power the wards in Aretia, him handling battle, Y/n handling the administrative part of Aretia (which was a relief for most of them seeing as they could focus on the war more and not have their attention conflicted and divided), he finally found a way to help a few nights later. Small but impactful.

The door creaked open, and Xaden immediately knew the day had worn her thin.

Y/n didn’t even lift her eyes when she stepped into their chambers—just trudged in with her leathers half-undone, her braid nearly falling apart, and her hands marked with dust and ink. She let out a low sigh, dropped her satchel by the door, and slumped against the wall.

Xaden pushed his chair back, already on his feet before she could say a word. “Bath’s already drawn.”

Her head lifted slightly, surprise flickering across her features. “You—?”

“You’ve been working since before dawn,” he said gently, stepping toward her. “Thought I’d save you the trouble.”

She gave him a soft, grateful smile, but didn’t move.

He reached out a hand. “Come here, love.”

She let herself be led. Step by step, he guided her into the bathing room where the steam curled from the surface of warm water laced with the oils she liked best—tropical ones, with sweet notes of pineapple and passsionfruit and something he could never quite name but always associated with her.

Xaden helped her out of her clothes wordlessly, his touch reverent and patient, fingers lingering only long enough to ground her. She was quiet, exhausted. When she eased into the water with a sigh that sounded almost like relief, he knelt behind her and rolled up his sleeves.

He poured warm water over her shoulders first, then gently lathered the herbal soap between his palms before massaging it into her arms, her back. She leaned forward with a content hum, letting him take over. Letting herself be taken care of.

“Lean back,” he whispered, guiding her head into his hands.

With practiced ease, he began to wash her hair. He worked in slow circles across her scalp, his thumbs rubbing behind her ears, his voice a low murmur now and then—telling her she was safe, she’d done enough, that she deserved this quiet.

Once her hair was rinsed, he grabbed the wide-toothed comb she always left on the edge of the tub and detangled her curls gently, starting from the bottom, always careful. She didn’t even flinch, just let her eyes fall closed.

After helping her out of the water, he wrapped her in a soft towel and carried her to the vanity, where he dabbed her skin dry and helped her into one of his shirts—her favorite one, the black one with the worn collar that smelled like him. She looked so small in it, bare legs curled beneath her on the stool.

He pulled her favorite cream from the shelf and rubbed it into her shoulders, her hands, her legs, her face—following the steps she always took. When he reached for the last bottle, her eyes finally opened.

“You remembered all of it,” she whispered.

He gave her a small smirk. “I always do.”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” he said, brushing the backs of his fingers against her cheek. “You take care of everyone, Y/n. Let me take care of you.”

Her lip trembled just a little, and she stood on shaky legs and wrapped her arms around his waist. He tucked her against him, pressing his lips to her temple.

“I love you,” she breathed.

“And I love you,” he said, tilting her chin up. “Now, let’s get you to bed, future duchess.”

A few days later - Ceaelyn on square

Y/n had only come to the village to oversee the latest delivery of supplies and check in with the team managing the rebuilding. She’d expected a short visit—a few conversations, maybe a cup of caf with the baker whose shop was nearly fully restored.

What she didn’t expect was the way the town square glowed with lantern light.

Or the way garlands of coastal flowers—blue and gold, bright and wild—hung from every post and railing.

Or the way the entire village was gathered, waiting for her.

Children ran with woven ribbons in their hair, families held hands, music played softly in the background. At the center, long tables overflowed with food from every household—cooked with what little they had, clearly brought together in a joint effort. Candles flickered gently along every surface, their warm light dancing like soft magic in the twilight.

She blinked. “What…?”

Ridoc was at her side, beaming. “They wanted to thank you. For everything.”

“I didn’t—” She turned in a slow circle, stunned by the sheer love radiating from every corner. “I don’t deserve—”

“You do,” came a familiar voice from the crowd.

Old fisherman Toren stepped forward, weathered hands holding a small carved conch. “You brought us back. Piece by piece. You remembered us when so many forgot.”

Another woman followed—one of the seamstresses. “You fought for us when no one else would. Sent soldiers, food, even asked for healers.”

“I just did what anyone would—” Y/n’s voice wavered.

“No,” someone else said. “You did what only you would.”

The crowd murmured in agreement. And before she could protest, a small group of children rushed toward her, one holding a flower crown clumsily tied together, sea shells dangling from the woven vines.

They gently placed it on her head.

Something cracked open inside her.

She tried to blink the tears away, but they came anyway—silent and warm and aching. A hand slid into hers, grounding her. She turned to find Xaden beside her, eyes soft, unreadably proud.

“They love you,” he said quietly. “And they should.”

She looked at the faces—the people who had once run barefoot across the same sands she had, who had taught her to swim, who’d watched her grow. Now they were thanking her, celebrating her.

It was too much.

Y/n stepped forward, trying to speak, but her voice caught. Her lip trembled.

“Thank you,” she whispered finally, eyes brimming. “I carry you with me—always.”

And as they cheered, and the music picked up again, and Xaden pulled her gently into a slow dance beneath the lanterns, Y/n closed her eyes and let herself feel it.

The love. The grief. The pride. The overwhelming, quiet truth:

She was home.

Taglist: @eepyfaerie @dreamdragonkadia @hiraethjules @nikfigueiredo @galaxystern08 @taleiaargenis @minidemont @poeticbookwormcat @eternallyrosyfire @shadowhuntyi @bubble300 @messageforthesmallestman @iheartshopping @lagrandeourse @readinf @barbreadsbooks @optimisticsoulstarfish @locatinginspo @lxnvmvrzx @im-a-weirdo-for-life

If you want to be added to the taglist, leave a comment. <3

[dropoutconfessions]

you will really will just uncritically publish the most transmisogynistic slop, but whenever someone speaks out about the transmisogyny in the fandom and creative side you always gotta give a note. and i know youre a trans woman, which makes it worse tbh

okay so i'm lowkey oblivious, so just wondering if you'd link me to which posts you're referring to where people actively say smth transphobic and i don't respond to it. appreciate it in advance

and yeah i give notes. you wanna tell me a detail about a character's star sign is transphobic? yeah sure i'm gonna remind you that there's a running trend where ally confuses the hell out of people with spiritualism n stuff (see mirror work from the mice & murder adventuring party) and brennan finally getting to turn the tables might be a thing he chooses to do.

you wanna tell me that a bunch of cis people should not parody harry potter? i'm going to remind you erika is trans and therefore not cis, and that people do not owe you their identities to earn your permission to create art. rabid fans spend enough time badgering creators and forcing them to out themselves and then 3 months later y'all say how awful it is that happened to them, still spouting the same "only this sexual/gender identity can write about this, or play this character, or do this, or do that" bullshit

you wanna tell me that mismag 2 shouldn't happen because harry potter parodies are bad (regarding posts that were sent in before it started airing)? i'm going to remind you that we don't know if it was going to be one given that the holiday special and live show were drifting away from said vibe.

i always cite my sources when people accuse me of this shit and i am waiting for a single on of y'all to do the same. so, here we are. it's your move. i can wait. i'm a patient woman.

and just letting the rest of y'all know, the next person to send in accusations calling me a transphobe without the metal to back it up, is getting blocked. i am tired of your shit. cite your fucking sources, it's not that hard, you can't just say random bullshit, we don't do witchhunts here.

[auraisereigh]

"One chance"

chapter ten

Brennan Sorrengail x Riorson reader Blurb: When finally reunited with her brother Star finds herself overwhelmed by the state he is in. wc: 5.3 ☆ SPOILERS FOR THE EMPYREAN SERIES. Wounds/injury. Yelling, False accusations? Uses pronouns: she/her. i use Star as a nickname as y/n sounds weird, and i'm awful with names.

I am working on the requests you lovies put in but I'm currently extremely stressed and busy with school. ☆

Masterlist ☆ Dragon guide ☆ Star's story ☆ Empyrean guide ☆ Support me

I look at my brother for the first time in over than two months. He looks almost the same as before but he has visible bags under his eyes, and the way he's leaning against our father's throne is tense, like he's in pain.

Aethan pats my back before leaving us alone. The nauseousness is my stomach turns to pure relieve. He's alive.

"Xaden." I whisper. "Star." He responds but even his voice holds a note of pain.

I walk closer to him. I go to hug him but his hands keep me at a small distance. "Don't." He says. His voice is breaking. My worry skyrockets. "What's wrong?" I ask, my face twisted in worry. "Tell me." I urge. I need to know what's wrong, I need to help him.

"It's my back." He responds and his voice wavers as I see a tear fall. I frown and walk around him. I grab a hold of his shirt and the sweater he's wearing and slowly pull it up. I make sure to be gentle, what's on his back must hurt a lot of he's on the verge of crying. I never see my brother cry, the last time was when mom left.

When I lift the shirt and first see his back, I gasp, covering my mouth in shock. My body trembles, the sight overwhelming.

It's covered in cuts.

I lift his shirt up higher, almost to his neck. His entire back is covered in cuts. Some look fresh as if they were reopened, some actually look like they're healing. I lower his shirt carefully. i take a deep breath, calming my own emotions.

"How?" I whisper. "I made a deal to ensure the safety of all the rebellion children. At the age of Twenty we have to go into the Riders Quadrant. I took responsibility for all of them. If they do something that's against Navarre, my life is forfeit." He explains through the pain even though I can see he's trying to hide it.

Damn him. Damn his deal. This moron, I swear. For the love of the lord. What was going through his mind. Yeah sure, let me take responsibility for all those children.

"Each cut… it represents one child. All 107 of them." What? I blink, trying to get my mind to cooperate. "Who did it?" I ask, my voice cold. I have an idea, I just hope it isn't that person but deep down I know it is.

"General Sorrengail." He says. My mind turns to pure cold ice. "Get to the healers. Now." My voice leaves no room for discussion. "I'll find you after that." That's the last thing I say before I walk out the room, my anger visible on my face as I walk past by the assembly members.

I make up to the third floor. I don't even bother knocking, I just hope it's unlocked. I push the door open and slam it behind me.

Brennan flinches from the sound. "Your mother is a wretch. A cruel wretchful woman." I bite out as I restrain myself not to yell. He frowns and he gets up from where he sits on his desk chair. "What do you mean?" He ask softly. Why is he always that soft? Does he also think I'm that fragile that if you bite back I'll tremble and shatter?

"Your mother dragged a knife hundred and Seven times through my brothers back!" I scream but there's more pain in it than anything else. His hands go to my shoulders to ground me. "Don't touch me." I brush his hands off. "I didn't know, I swear." He assures me, letting go of me and giving me some space. "She burned down my home, my city, my people. She executed my father, my family. She cut into my brother a hundred and Seven times! For you! She did that for you. Her son, who she thinks is dead. She's willing to wipe my culture, my home off the map, for you! To avenge you. And for what? For a son who just ran away, who's not even dead." Most of it is pretty much true. All of this was not his intention, but it still happened.

"Why don't you go back, huh? Go home. To your mother. Tell her she did all of that for nothing. Tell her that Fen Riorson shot you with an arrow. Tell her you survived and that you didn't go home because you don't stand by what she does. By the lies she tells. And maybe, in one go, tell her that Fen's daughter is alive so she can come and kill me too." I yell the last part. I put all my pent up emotions in those words. I can feel my eyes glow their red hue.

I'm so tired. Of all this, every little thing that goes wrong pushes me into an even darker corner. Where there's good, bad usuals follows. When I want to open myself up to him, this stuff happens, which seems to backfire all the progress I had made to even get to the point of considering opening up to this man.

He takes a step back and my heart aches. Where there's good, bad follows, Xaden is back but now Brennan is further gone.

I take a step back myself, until I lean against the door I slammed not even five minutes ago. I slide down the door till I hit the ground. He also takes a seat on his chair again. We don't say anything for a while. It's just a quiet, tension filled room. But then Brennan speaks up.

"I didn't mean for any of it." He says quietly. "I didn't know what my mother would do when she'd found out I was....gone." He explains. "But she hurt you, in more than one way. And even if it's not my fault, you wanna take it out on someone, and the closets to her is me so that makes it understandable that you'd yell at me but do not think for a second that this is something I wanted." His voice is soft but he holds a stern tone at the end. That's fair, to defend himself.

I don't respond, I don't see the point. I've said what I wanted to say.

I sit drained on the floor, completly exhausted by emotion "yeah... Fair." I mumble. I don't even have the energy to argue with him anyway. He holds a fair point, none of this is his fault. All of this is weirdly connected in a way he could have never guessed was possible. Then why does it hurt so damn much? Why does it all have to hurt so much?

I grab the door handle to help me stand up. Once I stand I lean against it before standing back on my own legs now that they don't feel like jelly anymore. I rub my temple, a rough headache forming, my throat dry and aching from yelling.

I open the door when he speaks up. "Where are you going?" He asks, getting off his chair and walking to me. "I have to help my brother." I mumble, headache pounding.

"I know you do." He replies softly, putting a hand on my arm. "You don't trust me. Every time you try to something happens that makes you distant. Give me a chance to prove I can be trusted. One chance is all I ask." His voice is soft and pleading. "Why do you wanna know me? I'm not even that special." I question. What is it about me that he keeps trying to know me? "Because Naolin always said you were special. From what I heard you were an amazing friend to him and maybe that's what I want for us." He explains. I can hear the vulnerability in his voice.

"I'm not a good friend." I state, my voice drained. "One chance." He repeats, his eyes look straight in mine. Those same eyes that glowed red not that long ago. "One chance." I whisper.

His eyes light up at my whispered words. "Thank you." His words are sincere, genuine. "I'll come to your room. Friday night, then you can still get some time with your brother, is that okay?" I nod and something in my heart grows fuzzy at the thought of spending time with him.

"Okay, good. I'll see you then." He smiles. I manage to give him a small, genuine smile back.

☆

Taglist: @honethatty12 @smashee0789 @awkardnerd @randomperson1234sblog@bangtanxberm@hyperactive-bookworm-0 @littowl

[laursdomain]

wherever you go, that's where i'll follow

pairing: bodhi durran & xaden riorson

genre: angst

synopsis: Bodhi is Xaden’s right hand, which has been in place since they were children. With new developments, Xaden is attempting to change what has been planned for them by their parents. Bodhi, who hates change, can’t help but fight back against his cousin. 

warnings: fighting, cursing, brother!xaden, xaden and bodhi argue, takes place in OS, happy ending!

w/c: 3.0k

a/n: song ➳ die with a smile by lady gaga & bruno mars; happy bodhi week! here's my take on day 1: right hand! @empyreanevents

ྀིb.d week masterlist

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“You go where he goes, that’s an order.” 

Bodhi’s father’s words ring inside his head, like a mantra. He may have said those words to him at the ripe age of eight, but he stays true to those words as a twenty-two year old. Bodhi walks the halls of Riorson House, taking the familiar route to Xaden’s room. Xaden and Violet’s room. He was happy to be back at Aretia temporarily, even if Violet was unsure if she belonged in Xaden’s room. She always belonged. Xaden was back, and even though Bodhi didn’t want to interrupt his solace, he had no choice.

i, i just woke up from a dream

His feet plant themselves in front of the door, remembering all the times he would sneak out of bed as a child, practically running to Xaden’s door whenever he’d have a bad dream. He knocks, using the secret code Garrick came up for the three of them when they were ten. 

The door flies open, revealing his older cousin. Without hesitating, Xaden pulls his younger cousin into the room, closing the door behind him. Bodhi knew Violet wouldn’t be in here, being her section leader had its advantages. He mentally checks second squad’s schedule, realizing she is at runes class. 

Bodhi’s gaze analyzes his cousin, acknowledging the way his body stays tense, keeping his fists balled at his sides. Bodhi wasn’t disgusted by the fact that he’s now a venin initiate, he could never feel that way about his cousin. Though, it did upset him that Xaden felt the way he did. 

“You did good,” Xaden acknowledges, though what he was acknowledging fell short to Bodhi.

Bodhi raises a brow, clearly confused. “On?”

Xaden rolls his eyes, as if what he was talking about was incredibly obvious. “Speaking on my behalf while I was recovering.” 

Bodhi’s mouth forms an O shape, realizing what he meant. Thinking like Xaden has become second nature to Bodhi, being around him consistently since birth gave him that advantage. Even Garrick knows how to think like Xaden, that’s how much the two have been around their best friend.

“Who told you that?” Bodhi inquired, curious on who was praising him. He assumed it was Lewellen, having to speak through the Duke simply because Bodhi himself didn’t have any authority to be in the room.

“Brennan and Lewellen,” Xaden answers, and it shocks Bodhi to hear the oldest Sorrengail’s name. He didn’t think he had impressed Brennan Sorrengail, but he gladly accepted it with open arms.

nobody's promised tomorrow

“It got me thinking,” Xaden speaks again, meeting his cousin’s chocolate brown eyes. Bodhi doesn’t speak, simply gestures with his eyes for Xaden to continue. “You’re going to start training. In case you have to take over.”

Bodhi furrows his brows, why in Amari’s name would Xaden say that? Bodhi knew of the thoughts his cousin has been having, the thoughts of not being able to survive being an initiate. Xaden had confided in Garrick and Bodhi before the last time he slipped up, unsure if he could truly make it through. Bodhi knew this, but he wouldn’t let his cousin do it alone.

“I’m not taking over,” Bodhi responds, deadpanning at his cousin.

“You don’t have a choice. It has to stay in our family.”

“Then marry Violet,” Bodhi thought it was the most obvious route. Violet would be safe under Tyrrendor, the province would still be in their family, and Xaden would be married to the love of his life. Easy.

“It’s not that easy,” Xaden glares at his cousin, annoyance biting his tone at how stubborn he was being. Another annoying trait they shared. “There isn’t a temple in the Continent that would officiate a marriage between a venin and anyone else.”

Bodhi goes to retort, only to realize he has a point. No priestess in their right mind would do that, let alone allow a venin inside their temple. But that doesn’t mean he wanted to take over.

like it's the last night

Bodhi sighs, “if I train, will that ease your worries?”

“Yes,” Xaden whispers, a trace of vulnerability intertwined with his words. Bodhi noticed it, and it slightly broke his heart at the sound of it. He can’t recall the last time he heard or saw his cousin vulnerable, and he didn’t like it. Not one bit. 

“Then I’ll train,” Bodhi agrees, seeing the way his cousin smiles in gratitude at his words.

It's only been three days of training, and Bodhi already wants to quit. It’s not that he doesn’t want to do this for his cousin. He’s sure if his mother could say something to him now, it’d be to suck it up. He did always admire the way she could withstand Uncle Fen’s antics. The antics Xaden also possessed.

“You’re brooding,” Imogen comments from her spot across from him. She came into his room two hours ago, not saying a word as she sat at the edge of his bed. She throws her dagger in the air, catching it. She’s been doing that for thirty minutes now. When Bodhi doesn’t comment as he usually does, she follows up, “penny for your thoughts?”

Bodhi sighs out, trying to let out some of the tension that has been building up since he returned from training. “Xaden wants me to be his heir.”

“You’ve always been his heir,” Imogen retorts, giving her friend a look.

“We’ve only had the province for a couple of months.”

“So? You’re his cousin, everything falls back on you. You know that.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to be his fucking heir,” Bodhi snaps, though he doesn’t apologize to the girl. Their friendship was easy like that–they were always able to vent to one another about their stresses. She knew Bodhi’s issues with being Xaden’s shadow too well, and knew how Bodhi felt about being his backup.

“I know, but Xaden doesn’t know that. Even if you told him, his skull is too thick to process it.”

Under different circumstances, Bodhi would’ve laughed. Instead, the amusement falls short, getting lost in his thoughts again. 

Imogen looks at her friend, a sympathetic look written on her face. It was a stark contrast to her usual demeanor, but she couldn’t help it when it came to Bodhi. “You’d make a great duke, physically at least.”

Bodhi cocks a brow, “are you complimenting me, Imogen Cardulo?”

“I’m just pointing out the obvious,” Imogen teases. “Xaden needs someone pretty enough to distract Navarre while he’s gone.”

A dry chuckle escapes Bodhi’s lips, amused at the thought. “You may have a point.”

“I always have a point,” she retorts back, though it holds no bite.

Bodhi opens his mouth to argue against the pink-haired girl, but before he can get a word in, the alarms are blaring throughout Riorson House. The alarm that Xaden had implemented into their security in the event that wyvern and venin finally invaded their province. Imogen and Bodhi share a look, quickly grabbing their weapons before dashing down the halls, making it to the lobby where a swarm of riders and fliers stand, waiting for instructions. 

Imogen abandons Bodhi to find her squad, knowing her place is with them. If she is needed by Xaden, he’ll come get her. Bodhi slides through the bodies blocking his path, shortening the distance between himself and his cousin, who stands with Violet.

if the party was over and our time on Earth was through

When he finally makes it to his cousin, he speaks over the chattering cadets around them, “I’m coming with you.”

“Fuck no,” Xaden narrows his eyes at his cousin. “You are going to go hide in the deepest part of this fucking house until this is all over.”

“But–” Bodhi begins to argue, though his cousin doesn’t let him get a word in.

Xaden grips the back of Bodhi’s neck, holding him there. “You have to survive, for both of us. For both our families’ sake. If I don’t survive, She needs to stay with us.” He refers to Tyrrendor, and despite Bodhi’s protests, he knows he won’t win.

“Someone needs to have your back, Garrick isn’t here.” Bodhi points out, referring to their absent best friend who is at an outpost. 

“I have Sgaeyl,” Xaden assures him. He holds Bodhi’s stare, demanding that he backs down from this argument. Bodhi relents, nodding as he turns around, running up the stairs as he finds the deepest room in their house. 

If there’s anything Bodhi Durran hates more, it’s being a sitting duck. He couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong, but he couldn’t quite place what it was. He itched to leave the house, fly on Cuir to Xaden’s side, to ensure that his cousin was safe and sound. Alas, he knows he’d be in for it if he disobeyed Xaden’s direct order.

“You go where he goes, that’s an order.” His father’s voice filled his head, as it always does in these situations. Bodhi felt conflicted, on one hand he didn’t want to disobey Xaden’s orders, but on the other hand–he couldn’t bring himself to disappoint his dead father.

“How willing are you to feel Sgaeyl’s wrath?” Bodhi opens his bond with his green dragon, Cuir, welcoming the familiar warmth.

“I only answer to you.” Cuir quips back, his voice soothing over Bodhi’s mind like a comforting blanket.

Cuir’s answer was enough for Bodhi. Bodhi can handle Xaden’s scolding, but Sgaeyl is on another level. He was terrified of the blue dragon, she always radiated dominance, just like Tairn. He always assumed the other dragons respected the two as if they were their leaders. They probably were.

“I’ll be outside in three minutes.” 

Cuir huffs, “race you.”

Bodhi managed to be outside in two minutes, but Cuir being the green he is–was already outside waiting the moment Bodhi opened their bond. Bodhi sits comfortably on his dragon, savoring the feeling of the wind running through his curly hair as they dash their way through the sky, making their way to the frontlines where Xaden and Sgaeyl currently reside. 

if the world was ending, i'd wanna be next to you

A wyvern chases Sgaeyl, practically on her tail as she desperately tries to put distance between herself and the ugly beast. “Hold tight,” Cuir warns Bodhi as he speeds up, barrelling into the ugly beast as Cuir’s jaws lock onto the wyvern’s neck. 

Cuir slams the wyvern into a nearby rock wall, using the force of it to deepen his teeth into the wyvern's neck. His strength doesn’t falter, not stopping until the beast becomes limp in Cuir’s jaw. Cuir releases his strong grip on the dead wyvern, watching with satisfaction as it falls down onto the grass.

“Didn’t even put up a good fight, tragic.” Cuir comments, golden eyes watching the dead carcass.

“You did attack it from behind,” Bodhi retorts, internally shaking his head at his dragon.

“From the side,” he corrects, huffing smoke. “Incoming.”

As if on cue, Sgaeyl stops short before Cuir and Bodhi, glaring her golden eyes at the green dragon. Bodhi has no idea what conversation they are having, nor does he want to know. 

“I thought I told you to stay home,” Xaden yells over the wind, anger overtaking his hardened features.

“I just helped you, and you’re yelling at me?” Bodhi retorts, glaring at his cousin.

“I gave you an order,” Xaden narrows his gaze.

“I’ve told you before, and I’ll tell you again.” Bodhi holds Xaden’s stare, “I’m your right-fucking-hand. Not your backup. End of discussion.”

Xaden is on the verge of retorting when he realizes the new wave of wyvern coming their way. This doesn’t mean he’s no longer upset with Bodhi, in fact he’s already preparing a colorful speech for him when this fight is over. He doesn’t say a word, promptly flying away on Sgaeyl as they head towards two wyvern heading towards them from the east. Bodhi takes that as a sign to stay, directing Cuir to head towards the wyvern coming from the north.

Taking down the first wyvern was quick. According to Cuir, it was no match for them. Taking down the venin atop of the second wyvern? Completely different story. The venin had possession of fire wielding, taking immense pleasure in throwing fireballs at Cuir and Bodhi every second to keep them from getting too close. Bodhi would have to think of another way, his own signet wasn’t powerful enough to extinguish venin signets, only human ones. 

Out of nowhere, the wyvern barrels into Cuir, throwing them off course as they crash into the ground. Bodhi quickly regains his composure, unaffected by the force of the hit, internally thanking Cuir for cushioning his fall.

“Are you okay?” Bodhi quickly sends down the bond, scanning Cuir for any injuries.

“Yes,” he answers, his voice holding its usual strength. “Give me a minute.”

ooh, lost, lost in the words that we scream

They didn’t have a minute. Bodhi predicted they had maybe ten seconds before the venin absorbs everything within proximity once it touches the ground. The venin slides down the leg of the wyvern, peering at Bodhi. Why wasn’t he channeling? 

The venin bares his teeth, the pearly whites an interesting contrast to the red veins that bulge from his eyes. “You’re probably wondering why I haven’t channeled yet.”

Bodhi stands, straightening his posture. “Because you’re a coward?”

A laugh slithers out of the venin’s mouth, the sound as ugly as him. “No, I have a challenge for you.”

Bodhi tilts his head in confusion, gesturing for him to continue.

“Take me down with no signets. It’s not like yours would be useful anyways.”

Bodhi clenches his jaw, trying his best to not retort at the way he disrespected his signet. “Deal.”

“Are you stupid?” Cuir hisses, still seemingly trying to recover.

“I can do this, focus on recovering.” Bodhi argues back, slamming his shields up to properly focus. 

Bodhi unsheathes one of his alloy-hilted daggers, clutching it as he waits. He’s never the one to make the first move, no matter what enemy he was facing. And he most certainly wasn’t going to change that for a venin.

The venin clutches his own dagger, though Bodhi can see the pride gleaning in his eyes. The fucker knows he doesn’t need any weapon, he is a weapon. That doesn’t falter Bodhi’s confidence, he would survive. 

Finally, the venin lunges forward, attempting to catch Bodhi off guard. He fails, quickly sidestepping before throwing his entire body weight onto the venin. Bodhi goes to kick the dagger out of his hand, but the venin is too quick. He knew Bodhi was going to do that, and he hated that. The venin scrambles to his feet, anger overtaking his features. Bodhi wondered how long he could play this game until his patience wore thin. Until the venin decided to just channel from the ground to quickly kill the rider and his dragon.

Bodhi is the one who attacks this time. With years of training under his belt, he lunges forward, quickly spinning around once the venin dodges. They continue this dance for what feels like too long, and Bodhi is the one becoming impatient. It shouldn’t be this hard. He recognized the venin’s fighting the moment he lunged first, hating how quickly he registered it. It was the fighting style taught in the infantry quadrant, and the only reason he knew that was because he spent years watching his own father spar with Fen Riorson, the two surviving infantry together.

It wasn’t long before the venin found a small vulnerability within Bodhi. He was unguarded on his left side, and he instantly took advantage. The venin lunged, pretending to aim for Bodhi’s midsection. As he predicted, Bodhi sidestepped, giving the venin the ability to jab the hilt of his dagger into Bodhi’s side. Bodhi cries out in pain, falling to the ground. The venin kicks Bodhi’s alloy-hilted dagger out of his hand, stripping him of his weapon. Bodhi quickly realizes it was only the hilt, meaning he’d only have a nasty bruise the next morning, but gods, did he have strength.

The venin raises his dagger, ready to plunge it into Bodhi’s neck, pride still swimming in his eyes at his victory. “You put up a good fight, rider. Now, stay goodbye.” 

right next to you

A deep voice behind the venin freezes him in place. Bodhi glances behind his enemy, eyes widening. 

“Get your fucking hands off my cousin,” Xaden’s voice is full of venom, anger gleaning in his eyes. Shadows pool at his feet, and Bodhi worries only for a millisecond that Xaden may slip. 

Before the venin can even turn around, shadows wrap around his pale body, slithering around his neck as he’s lifted into the air. The shadows begin tightening, cutting off his air flow as Xaden gives him a slow and painful death. To finish him off, Xaden flicks an alloy-hilted dagger in his direction, landing right in his heart, the corpse crumbling to dust. 

Xaden’s shadows leave the corpse, returning to his feet. He’s quick to shorten the distance between him and his younger cousin, promptly pulling him to his feet. Bodhi doesn’t have time to react before Xaden forces him into a hug, feeling the anger and tension from his older cousin slowly dissipating. Bodhi may be utterly confused, but he gladly accepts the embrace. Xaden pulls Bodhi out of their hug, keeping a firm grip at the back of his neck. 

i'd wanna hold you just for a while and die with a smile

“You are my right hand,” Xaden’s words are a firm statement, onyx eyes boring into Bodhi’s brown ones. “But you are still my cousin, and I will not allow you to die. Ever. We will survive this war together, and it isn’t until Malek takes you when you are old and wrinkly you will be allowed to go. You are not permitted to die on a battlefield in which you follow me to. Do you understand?”

Bodhi smiles, eyes crinkling. “Yes. I understand.”

Xaden nods, eyes softening before pulling his cousin into another hug. Bodhi can’t help but feel like a child, hugging his cousin tight at the acceptance of being his right hand, no longer being burdened as his backup. He burrows his head into Xaden’s neck, enjoying one of the rare hugs he gets from his cousin.

If he will die in this war, it’ll be by his last living relative’s side. That is Bodhi’s order, nobody else's. Not Xaden’s, and most certainly not his father’s.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

[senjuci]

A Chance Encounter - Iwaizumi Hajime

╔══════════════════════╗

If there was anything you knew for certain, it was that you hated Mondays. You had back-to-back lectures all morning, and all you wanted to do was curl up and rot in your bed for the next 3 to 5 business days. 

But instead, you had to head down to an appointment at the Athletic Therapy Centre on campus. Your gaze lifted from your phone to see a small group of your teammates huddled by the entrance.

“Y/n!” A voice called out, your gaze shifting over to where Kori stood. You smiled, walking over to the woman and stopping at her side. “Is everyone just waiting here for their appointments?” You questioned, receiving a nod in response as your eyes drifted over to the doors leading to where all the athletic trainers were. 

A woman stepped out holding a clipboard and gently tapped her pen against it before looking over the crowd. “Y/n L/n, Kaito Suzuki and Kori Brown?” The woman stated the three athletes shuffled over to follow her inside. 

“We have to do this every year, I stopped growing when I was like 17, I don’t need them to measure my height again.” Kaito scoffed as he crossed his arms over his chest, leading to a snort falling from your lips. 

“That’s because you’re worried about finding out you’ve shrunk Mr. 5’4.” You replied, receiving a glare in response from Kaito, and a laugh from Kori. A soft grin was still present on your face as you looked around and took in all the new faces that had joined this year. Lots of sports science and kinesiology students would do internships for the school year in the department, so it was no surprise to see a lack of familiarity heading into the room. 

It didn’t take long for your eyes to land on him. There was quite frankly, no way he was real. He looked like he had been sculpted by the gods. His tanned skin, short spikey brown hair and olive green eyes. But what drew you in most was his smile. The way his eyes crinkled slightly as he laughed, you were sure your heart skipped two, no three beats at that sound. 

“I’m in love Kori.” You state simply, Kori rolling her eyes in response. “You don’t even know his name Y/n.” She responded as you shrugged your shoulders. “That’s okay, whatever it is I’m sure it will sound good with mine.” You say, Kori shaking her head as she hears one of the doctors call her name and leave you standing in the middle of the room by yourself. 

It didn’t take long before you locked eyes with the man, a slight look of confusion in them as he noticed you staring. But after a small glance over you, and seeing the blush that rose to your cheeks, he gave you a small smile before returning to his conversation. 

“Y/n? You’ll be with me today.” Dr. Brennan, one of the Athletic Therapists whom you had worked with the year prior had said. Nodding in return, you walked over to where she stood, taking a seat on the bed. “How have you been? You have been keeping up with your practices over the summer?” She questioned, not fully paying attention to you as she flipped through the file with your name on it. 

“Yep, been doing my stretches too don’t worry.” You respond and receive a smile from the woman. “Good. Now, you said you were also having some wrist pain as of late, so I have left a bit of room after the assessment to check that out,” She explained as she looked up at you, "But as you have probably assumed I have a new student interning with me this semester, and he’s going to be helping with your assessment if you’re comfortable with that.” Dr. Brennan explained as you nodded your head in response. 

“Perfect. Hajime? Can you come help me?” She called out, a yes maam being yelled in return from somewhere behind her as the Doctor stood up. “Y/n, this is Hajime Iwaizumi, my intern. Hajime, this is Y/n L/n, they’re on the fencing team.” The doctor explained, your gaze lifting to be met with the man from earlier. You could see the slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“Nice to meet you Y/n. I look forward to working with you this season.” Hajime stated as you gave him a smile in response, your heart beating so loud you could hardly hear his words. “Likewise.” You state, your gaze drifting back over to the doctor. 

Normally, you hardly ever have issues talking to people. You were quite a social person, and easily got along and made conversation with anyone you met. But Hajime Iwaizumi? He was like your fucking Kryptonite and you had only known of his existence for what, three, four minutes? 

Hajime, why don’t you take them to the stadiometers?” The doctor suggested as Hajime nodded, gesturing for you to get off of the bed and follow him. Silently, you trailed behind the man admiring his physique from behind as the two of you arrived at the tool. “Stand underneath it with your back straight please,” Hajime asked as you stepped forward and straightened your back, watching as Hajime gently lowered the small weight down so it would rest on top of your head and he could read the results. 

Your gaze stayed trained on him, watching as he bit his lower lip slightly while reading the results and jotting them down. His gaze had yet to lift from the paper when he spoke up once more. “You know, with the way you keep staring at me it gets a bit hard to focus.” He told you, glancing back up to meet your eyes. 

You smiled widely in response, waiting until he lifted the weight up so you could step off of the Stadiometer. “I only stare when there’s something worth looking at.” You tell him in response, watching as his cheeks become dusted with a rosy hue. He is silent for a moment, turning back around before gesturing for you to follow. “Let’s head back to record your results.” He told you, a small giggle falling from your lips as you followed him. 

The appointment had gone much too quickly, and you had been prescribed some cream for your wrist as well as some stretches to do to increase your wrist flexibility. Dr. Brennan had already moved on to another one of your teammates, leaving Hajime to write up the exercises on a sheet of paper for you on the other side of the room. 

You watched him quietly, kicking your feet back and forth while you sat on the bed waiting. Hajime set down the pen, straightening up before walking back over to you, keeping his gaze trained on the desk just in front of you. 

Walking up to you, he cleared his throat and held out the paper, his head turned to the side as he spoke. “Here are the stretches I would recommend for you to do. 3 repetitions of them each day. If you have any questions about them, you can either email Dr. Brennan…” he suggested to you, a hesitancy in his tone as he trailed off “Or you can text me.” He stated. 

You gently took the paper from him, seeing that he had added his name and phone number underneath the prewritten email signed on all of Dr. Brennan’s papers. If it was possible for your cheeks could’ve gotten any more red, they did. “Thanks, I’ll make sure to.” You reply as you stand up picking up your bag that you had placed on the ground earlier. “Bye Hajime.” You mused, the man giving you a relieved smile as he waved goodbye. 

You quickly made your way to the entrance, seeing Kori already there waiting for you, but you didn’t say anything. Instead, your eyes were glued to your phone as you typed in Hajime’s number into your contacts and quickly sent him a text. 

‘I’ve already forgotten how to do a few of the stretches, would you mind showing them to me again?’

After clicking send, you see Kori looking at you with a raised eyebrow. “What’s got you in a good mood?” She questioned as you sighed in response. “I just met my future husband. That’s all.” You tell her as she rolls her eyes. “Yeah, whatever you say Y/n.” Kori tells you, as you feel a buzz in your back pocket from your phone. 

Grabbing it, your face lights up as you read the incoming text from none other than Hajime.

 ‘How does 8pm tonight sound? I can refresh your memory over dinner.’

Maybe Mondays weren’t so terrible.

╚══════════════════════╝

This is my first fic I know she is rough on the edges but I've had this scenario rotting in my head for like months at this point

Likes and Reblogs are so so appreciated!!

[jq37]

So, that lady FH episode was amazing and all, but...

Hoo boy, I already see the discourse around the Ratgrinders' fates forming and it is going to be painful. Be careful around the fandom space.

(I mean, resurrection is still on the table for them, but that's based on if the players feel like it and right now, we're looking at 50/50 odds at bests)

Yeah, don't worry about me. This isn't my first rodeo and also I post a lot about D20 and respond to asks I get but I don't actually personally engage with any of The Discourse (tm).

And I'm not really surprised at the reaction. I know people have been opinionated all season in two main camps (that have a lot of overlap): people dissatisfied with the narrative direction and people deeply sympathetic to the Rat Grinders to the point of being mad at the Bad Kids.

The first camp I mostly understand. I get wishing the cast would explore a certain storyline more. For example, I've been on the Aelwyn redemption arc train since literally the first episode of Fantasy High so I was a little disappointed that when that finally came to a head in Freshman Year, it was a big fight and then very little aftermath/unpacking because Aelwyn was sent to jail right after. And Sophomore Year hadn't been announced so I had no idea that she was gonna get another shot. But I wasn't upset or anything. Adaine at that point still hated her sister. She had no reason to want to reach out. And at the end of the day this is other people playing a game. Brennan presented them all the possible plot threads and they were most interested in self discovery, hanging out with each other, doing Shenanigans, and playing Tomb Raider re: Ankarna. Those are all options they were presented and it's not like they were doing crazy off-roading. It's well within the parameters of what D&D is. If you're gonna watch a show like this (or honestly any show), you have to accept that what's most interesting to you isn't always going to be the most interesting thing to the people in the driver's seat.

So yeah, I feel like this side of things I get (even though I'm fine with how things turned out).

The other camp--people being legit mad at the Bad Kids (and in some cases the actual cast) for treating the Rat Grinders like antagonists instead of victims that they were responsible for empathizing with and redeeming--I find kind of wild.

Like…you're mad at the kids who go to Child Murder School for killing kids who want to end the world and kill them specifically? Literally the first day of school the principal of the school says that adventurers are violent wanderers who engage in shenanigans and enact violence. This is the exact assignment they were given and that's what they're doing.

I think it's wild to at the same time believe that the Rat Grinders (who have killed people) are not responsible for their actions and deserve to be talked down while in the process of causing an apocalypse because they're just kids who were manipulated while at the same time calling the Bad Kids evil lunatics for trying to stop them by killing them (in a world where Revivify and Resurrection exist) even though they are ALSO kids who are doing what they've learned at Child Murder School. The Bad Kids have to be mature enough to thoroughly investigate the situation and have nuance about it but the Rat Grinders don't have any responsibility to not join a shady evil murder plan*? And do the Bad Kids really hate the Rat Grinders to the point where they're doing some overkill in this fight? Absolutely. But it's not like they're killing them because they hate them. They're killing them because they're trying to end the world--and they also happen to hate them. Are we forgetting that Kipperlilly killed Buddy--her own teammate--with a gleeful smile on her face? That was so out of pocket.

They're adventurers! Not guidance counselors! If Jawbone was like, "We need to kill these kids," yeah that would be weird but why would the Bad Kids extend an olive branch to the kids who (1) famously hate them, (2) killed at least one maybe 2 of their own party members, (3) endangered the entire student body population an hour ago, (4) are currently trying to end the world. Hell, Adaine was ready to be mean to her own sister in elf jail literally up until the point Brennan described how rough she looked from the torture and that's when she changed her mind. The Power of Love and Empathy is on the menu but it's a special item you only can get if you know the chef. Everyone else is getting a serving of These Hands. Just because you can find a vegan solution to a problem it doesn't mean you're obligated to.

This all comes down to, "Maybe teenagers shouldn't have godlike powers and the ability to play judge, jury, and executioner" but that's literally the premise of the entire show so you can't get around it without rejecting the show's entire premise. If they were like, "Hmm the systems that underpin our world are questionable and we should change the power structures" instead of, "Let's kill some bad guys!" then that's a totally different thing we're doing here!

And, idk man, this show has always had a Who Framed Roger Rabbit style morality where the normal rules of ethics stop applying when it's funny. They beat the crud out of Ragh and then lied to him that he shit his pants just for the bit. A pirate was rude/kinda racist to Riz so they scared him into killing himself. Riz ate the remains of the sentient (albiet evil) dragon he killed. That's all unhinged behavior but none of that is meant to be serious. Getting upset about Fig sending Ruben to hell to me feels like getting mad that Jerry hit Tom with a cartoonishly large mallet.

None of this is new so I have to assume that people are having a big reaction because they relate to the Rat Grinders or just really like them so it feels bad that the Bad Kids are treating them like fodder rather than beloved NPCs.

But again, this is a world where you can bring people back from the dead and the Rat Grinders have showed intent that is grievously neglectful at best and insanely murderous at worst so I can't muster a lot of sympathy for the fact that the Bad Kids are just taking them down without remorse. I don't think you have to try to empathize with the people who are trying to harm you if you don't want to especially while they are in the process of harming you.

(*And we still don't know how voluntarily they joined this plan. We don't know if they were killed and basically forced into resurrecting with rage or if they just leapt at the chance to join a plan that would let them get one over on their rivals. It literally could be either. We've had kid villains on this show strong armed into being party to evil plans by threat of harm (Aelwyn) as well was kid villains who just had their own selfish motivations and weren't tricked at all (Penelope and Biz). We actually don't have any clear answer on how culpable they are. We don't know if they all have rage crystals (except for Buddy). And we don't know how much having a Rage Crystal effects your actions. The best indicator we got is in this latest ep when Brennan said that there was a mechanic where Porter was going to call anyone with a rage crystal to fight for him but that says to me that he's only directly puppeting them when he uses that action and otherwise they have free will and are just angrier. The Bad Kids don't have a reason to believe definitively that the Rat Grinders are just unwilling puppets even if that is the case so of course they're treating them like enemies. Anyway, this is a whole lot of "I don't knows" but that's only because I've seen a lot of people talking like the Rat Grinders literally aren't in control of their actions but that's not info that we have. It could be true but we don't actually know that so it's not a good argument.)

[thenatezone]

I thought it was so cute how gleeful Brennan was when he broke Zac in episode 9 with the Vulture King because Zac seems to be the one player who can always break Brennan by responding in a really understated way (see: the Ravening War). So when Brennan, as a confusing NPC born from a running gag, refuses to engage with the lore and just responds to Gorgug's question of "Are you a god?" with a sigh and a tired "I don't even know, man" it felt like such a Zac response, and I think that's why it got him so good and why Brennan was so proud of himself. Anyway I just think it's cute! I love friends being funny together!

[callsign-rogueone]

Hi, Liz! Technically, we’re mutuals, but I have terrible social anxiety so I’m gonna remain ✨anon.✨

I was rereading “Allies” earlier and I had a thought. Brennan obviously thinks that the braids that Duchess wears are gorgeous — and rightfully so. How do you think he reacted seeing her hair *down* for the first time? Do you think he’s like Xaden when it comes to Vi’s loose hair? Idk — I just thought it was cute hehe

— ❤️‍🩹 Anon (?)

I promise I’m nice, and you can dm my main any time!! especially if it’s about my girls, hehe. (now I’m wondering who you could be. I have one person in mind, who I know likes Brennan… and started writing for fw kinda recently… but it would be so awkward if I guessed wrong shsbjssb) anyway ily!! 🩷

and to answer your question: Brennan.exe has stopped working. here’s a very rushed very short scene of what could have happened, from when they were still bb cadets!

He hadn’t really thought about just how long your hair would be out of the braids. To see it now, cascading over your shoulders… it feels much more intimate than anything else about the situation — you being together in your room after dark, seeing you in pajamas…

Why is he looking at you like that?

“Are you okay?”

It takes him a second. “Yeah,” he manages, his cheeks pinkened. “It’s just… your hair.”

You bring a hand up to squeeze the water out of the ends with your towel, eyebrows drawn together in concern. “What about it?”

“I’ve never seen it down before. It’s nice.”

“Oh,” you respond, not sure what else to say. Why are things still so awkward, even after you’ve confessed your feelings to each other?

You settle into your desk chair without further comment, running a brush through it until you’re satisfied with the smoothness.

He’s still watching you from his hesitant perch on the edge of your bed — he’s spent the night once before, but doesn’t yet feel like he belongs here.

He doesn’t miss the soft noise of discomfort as you lift your arms behind your head, starting to part it into sections. Today’s training had been brutal, and both of you are going to be incredibly sore tomorrow.

“I could do it for you,” he blurts.

“Hm?”

“Your braids. Since your arms already hurt. It won’t be as good as yours, but I’ve had a decent amount of practice from my sisters, so…”

Gods, you love the way he blushes every time you look at him. “That would be nice,” you say, offering him a soft smile.

He settles behind you, taking a moment just to play with the damp strands. In the small mirror, he watches your eyes fall shut, the tension leaving your shoulders as his fingertips rub against your scalp.

Later, as you both settle into bed, Brennan Sorrengail thanks each of the gods by name for letting your paths cross.

[thydungeongal]

In regards to the "D&D is good because it doesn't get in the way of roleplay" thing, I think you have correctly identified the desired play of the people who say that, but have misattributed WHY they think this thing.

Based on conversations I've had with a lot of players who feel this way, I think the core thing with D&D is this:

Those players really only want to sit around and play pretend with their friends. But they feel for one reason or another that they can't just Play Pretend because they are Adults Now (this is obviously wrong but, discussion for a different post). So they look to D&D primarily as a tool to lend a sense of "legitimacy" to wanting to play pretend.

D&D is good for fulfilling that role for a couple reasons. First, it does what Brennan describes: adjudicates the intricacies of combat, but "gets out of the way" for non-combat activities, which is desirable when the actual goal of the thing is freeform roleplay. Second, it lends a lot of legitimacy because it is by far the biggest TTRPG and a household name cultural icon.

I think that the vast majority of people who refuse to play anything besides D&D are likely responding to those two things by saying, in the first case, that adding non-combat roleplay rules is stifling because then they're not purely playing pretend and instead having to actually engage with a text; or in the second case, playing a less culturally dominant game doesn't lend as much perceived legitimacy as playing D&D does.

And also, critically, none of that camp can admit this is what's happening because then they'd have to admit they just want to Play Pretend, and they can never admit that.

I don't know how to solve this! Getting over this hump has proven virtually impossible to me. But at the end of the day I think this is what's actually happening.

(And again it's fine to want to play pretend, this isn't a dig in any way towards that group.)

I think there's truth to this, but I think it can be both: in part it is, as I said, that there's this toxic meme of roll-play vs. role-play (which despite being old and stupid and bad keeps being resurrected by much the same type of people), but I think there is also a desire for basically freeform roleplay but with procedural scenes in between. But also, because actual play has a disproportionate effect on this playstyle, there's a widespread disinterest in actually engaging with the actual text of the game and instead trying to mimic the type of carefully curated narrative experience presented in actual plays, which are often largely disconnected from the actual text.

I think the best solution is to play good games with people interested in engaging with games.

[fourthwingfan]

Madness - Chapter 21

Hello, there readers. Here is the new chapter. Enjoy :) And as always you're all awesome! ❤️

Don’t freak out if you can’t immediately channel your dragon’s powers, Mira. Yeah, I know you have to be the best at everything, but this isn’t something you can control. They’ll channel when they feel you’re ready. And once they do, you’d better be ready to manifest a signet. Until then, you’re not ready. Don’t push it.

—Page sixty-one, the Book of Brennan

This really isn’t necessary.” Violet glances sideways at Liam as we make our way toward the door of the Archives. The cart doesn’t even squeak anymore. He fixed that the very first day.

“So you’ve told me for the last week.” He shoots her a grin, revealing a dimple.

“And yet you’re still here. Every day. All day.”

“Come on, Vi. Don’t be like this.” I chided her. “Admit that you actually like him. Liam is awesome, you know.” I wink at her.

“Shut up, Aelin.” She retorts but blushes so hard, her face is almost red.

And that’s it. Liam’s charm is working. He’s courteous, funny, and ridiculously helpful. He makes it difficult to loathe his constant presence. I mean I tried to avoid him when we first met, but somehow he wormed his way into my life. And Violet can’t hate him either. Even though he leaves wood shavings in little piles everywhere he goes. The guy is constantly whittling with that smaller knife of his. Yesterday he finished the figurine of a bear.

“Until otherwise ordered,” he answers to Violet’s remark.

I shake my head at them as Pierson jolts upright at the Archives doors, straightening his cream tunic. “Good morning, Cadet Pierson.”

“You as well, Cadet Melgren, Cadet Sorrengail.” He offers us a polite smile, which dies as he glances at Liam. “Cadet Mairi.”

“Cadet Pierson,” Liam responds, as if the scribe’s tone hadn’t completely changed.

My shoulders tense as Pierson hurries to open the door. Maybe it’s just that I haven’t been around marked ones before Basgiath, but the outright hostility toward them is becoming glaringly, uncomfortably obvious to me.

We walk into the Archives and wait by the table just like every other morning.

“How do you do that?” Violet asks Liam in a hushed whisper. “Handle when people are that rude without reacting?”

“You’re rude to me all the time,” he teases, drumming his fingers on the handle of the cart.

“Because you’re my babysitter, not because…”

“Because I’m the son of the disgraced Colonel Mairi?” His jaw ticks, his brow furrowing for a heartbeat as he looks away.

I silently squeeze his shoulder and he faintly smiles at me.

„I guess I’m really no better, though. I hated Xaden on sight, and I didn’t know a single thing about him.” Violet says softly.

Liam scoffs, earning us a glare from a scribe near the back corner. “He has that effect on people, especially women. They either despise him for what his father did or want to fuck him for the same reason, just depends on where we are.”

“You actually know him, don’t you?” She cranes her neck to look up at him. “He didn’t just pick you to shadow me because you’re the best in our year.”

“Just now catching on, huh?”

“Hey, take it easy, Liam. I needed time too. It’s not that obvious.” I elbow him in the ribs.

A grin flashes across his face, then he looks toward Violet. “I would have told you that on the first day if you hadn’t been so busy huffing and puffing about the pleasure of my company.”

I roll my eyes as Jesinia approaches, her hood up over her hair. “Hey, Jesinia,” I sign.

“Good morning,” she signs back, her mouth curving in a shy smile as her gaze darts up to Liam.

“Good morning.” He signs with a wink, clearly flirting.

It shocked me to my toes that first day that he knew how to sign, but honestly, I should have known. He’s awesome at everything.

“Just these today?” Jesinia asks, inspecting the cart.

„And these.” I reach for the list of requests amid their obvious glances and hand it to her.

“Perfect.” Her cheeks flush and she studies the list before putting it in her pocket. “Oh, and Professor Markham left before his daily report arrived to teach your briefing. Would you mind taking it over?”

“Happy to.” Violet waits until she’s pushing the cart away from us, then smacks Liam’s chest. “Stop it,” she whispers out loud.

“Stop what?” He watches her until she turns the corner at the first set of shelves.

“Flirting with Jesinia. She’s a long-term-relationship woman, so unless that’s what you’re looking for…just…don’t.”

Ohhoo, Violet are you jealous?

His eyebrows hit his hairline. “How does anyone think long-term around here?”

“Not everyone is in a quadrant where death is less of a chance and more of a foregone conclusion.” She says as she tries to calm herself down.

“So you’re saying that some people still try to make cute little things like plans.”

“Exactly, and those some people is Jesinia. Trust me, I’ve known her for years.”

“Right. Because you wanted to be a scribe when you grew up.” He scans the Archives with an intensity that almost makes me laugh. As if there’s any chance someone is going to lunge out of the shelves and come after Violet.

“How did you know that?” She lowers her voice as a group of second-years passes, their expressions somber as they debate the merits of two different historians.

“I did my research on you after I was…you know…assigned. And Aelin is really gossipy.” He shakes his head. “I’ve seen you practicing this week with those blades of yours, Sorrengail. Riorson was right. You would have been wasted as a scribe.”

“Hey, I’m not ‘gossipy’, you moron.” I scowl at him.

“That remains to be seen.” She answers both of us.

At least challenges haven’t resumed. Guess enough of us are dying during flight lessons to hold off on killing more through hand-to-hand.

“What did you want to be when you grew up?” Violet asks suddenly.

“Alive.” He shrugs.

“How do you know Xaden anyway?”

“Riorson and I were fostered at the same estate after the apostasy,” he says, using the Tyrrish term for the rebellion.

“You were fostered?” Her mouth drops open.

Fostering the children of aristocrats was a custom that died out after the unification of Navarre more than six hundred years ago.

“Well, yeah.” He shrugs again. “Where did you think the kids of the traitors”—he flinches at the word—“went after they executed our parents?”

“I didn’t think.” She admits it in a meak voice.

Oh, Vi. I didn’t know her mother never mentioned it to her. It seems I am much more informed on the subject. Thanks to The General…

“Most of our great houses were given to nobles who had remained loyal.” He clears his throat. “As it should be.”

I don’t bother agreeing with what’s obviously a conditioned reply. King Tauri’s response after the rebellion was swift, even cruel.

The burning of Aretia, which had been Tyrrendor’s capital, to the ground had never sat well with me, though. Liam was the same age. It wasn’t his fault his mother had broken faith with Navarre. And I’m sure there’s more to it.

“But you didn’t go with your father to his new home?” Violet asks.

His gaze swings toward her, and his brow furrows. “It’s hard to live with a man who was executed on the same day as my mother.”

“No. No, that’s not right. Your father was Isaac Mairi, right? I’ve studied all the noble houses in every province, including Tyrrendor.”

“Yes. Isaac was my father.” He tilts his head, looking toward the area where Jesinia disappeared, and I get the distinct feeling he is over this conversation.

“But he wasn’t a part of the rebellion.” She shakes her head, trying to make sense of it. “He isn’t on the death roll of the executions from Calldyr.”

“You read the death roll from the Calldyr executions?” His eyes flare.

“I needed to see that someone was on it.” She admits it.

He draws back slightly. “Fen Riorson.”

She nods. “He killed my brother at the Battle of Aretia. But your father wasn’t on that roll.”But Liam was—as a witness.

“Vi, enough.” I try to stop her. We should not tear open his wounds.

She glances at me and I can see the understanding in her eyes.“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“He was executed at our family’s house.” His features tighten. “Before it was given to another noble, of course. And yes, I watched as they did it that time, too. I already had the rebellion relic by then, but the pain was the same.” He looks away, his throat working. “Then I was sent to Tirvainne to be fostered by Duke Lindell, the same as Riorson. My little sister was sent elsewhere.”

“They separated you?” Her jaw practically unhinges.

He nods. “She’s only a year younger than me, though, so I’ll get to see her when she enters the quadrant next year. She’s strong, quick, and has good balance. She’ll make it.” The edge of panic in his tone reminds me of Mira.

“She will make it, Liam. And after that we’ll be there to help her.” I grab his hand and squeezes it.

“She could always choose another quadrant,” Violet says softly, hoping it will soothe him.

He blinks at her. “We’re all riders.”

„What?”

“We’re all riders. It was part of the deal. We’re allowed to live, allowed a chance to prove our loyalty, but only if we make it through the Riders Quadrant.” He stares at her in bewilderment. “You don’t know?”

“I mean…” she shakes her head. “I know that the children of the leaders, the officers, were all forced into conscription, but that’s all. A lot of those treaty addenda are classified.”

“I personally think the quadrant was chosen to give us the best chance of rising in rank, but others…” He grimaces. “Others think it’s because the death rate is so much higher for riders, so they were hoping to kill us all off without having to do it themselves. I’ve heard Imogen say they originally figured the dragons have unimpeachable honor, so they’d never bond a marked one in the first place, and now they don’t quite know what to do with us.”

“How many of you are there?” I ask him, because I don’t know the exact number.

“Xaden’s never?” He pauses. “Sixty-eight of the officers had kids under the age of twenty. There are one hundred and seven of us, all who carry rebellion relics.”

„The oldest is Xaden,” I murmur.

He nods. “And the youngest is almost six now. Her name is Julianne.”

I think I’m going to be sick. “Is she marked?”

“She was born with it.”

I understand it was done by Codagh, but what the fucking hell? My father is a monster.

“And it’s all right that you ask. Someone should know. Someone should remember.” His shoulders rise and fall as he breathes deeply. He suddenly turns toward Violet. “Anyway, is it hard for you to be in here? Or is it more of a comfort thing?”

Subject change noted.

„It’s like coming home, but not. And it’s not that it’s changed—this place never changes. Hell, I think change is the mortal enemy of a scribe. But I’m starting to realize that I’ve changed. I don’t quite fit here. Not anymore.”

“Yeah. I get that.” Something in his voice tells me he really does.

That’s when Jesinia reappears, the cart laden with the requested tomes.

“I have everything here for you,” she signs, then gestures to the scroll on top. “And that is for Professor Markham.”

“We’ll make sure he gets it,” Violet promises, leaning forward to take the cart. Her high collar shifts, and Jesinia gasps, her hand flying to cover her mouth.

“Oh gods, Violet. Your neck!” Her hand movements are sharp.

“It’s nothing.” She puts her collar back in place, covering the ring of yellowing bruises, and Liam reaches across me, taking the cart. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

She bobs her head and wrings her hands as we turn for the door. Pierson closes it after we pass into the hallway.

“Riorson taught me to fight during the years he was at Tirvainne.” Liam’s change of subject is appreciated and no doubt intentional once again. I still feel terrible. My farher is a monster. There’s no doubt about it. “I’ve never seen anyone move the way he does. He’s the only reason I made it through the first round of challenges. He might not show it, but he takes care of his own.” He glances toward me with a smirk.

“Are you trying to sell me on his finer points?” I ask as we make the ascent.

We round the corner and take the path past the Healer Quadrant.

“How can you do this anyway? Guard someone whose own mother oversaw the wing that captured yours?” Vi asks before he could answer.

“Wondering if you can trust me?” He flashes another easy grin.

“Yes.” The answer is simple.

He laughs, the sound echoing off the tunnel walls and glass windows of the clinic. “Good answer. All I can say is that your survival is essential to Riorson’s, and I owe him everything. Everything.” He looks me straight in the eye for that last word, even as the cart hits a raised stone in the paved corridor.

The scroll on top tumbles to the floor, and Violet retrieves it and it unrolls along the slight slope of the passage.

“Got it.”

The thick parchment isn’t eager to roll back into place, and when she looks at it, she pauses.

“What does it say?” Liam asks.

“Sumerton was attacked.” She flips the scroll to see if it’s marked as classified, but it isn’t.

“On the southern border?” He looks as confused as I feel.

“Yeah.” She nods. “It’s another high-altitude attack, too, if I remember my geography correctly. It says a supply convoy was looted.” She reads a little further. “And the community storage in nearby caves was ransacked. But that doesn’t make sense. We have a trade agreement with Poromiel.”

“A raiding party, then.” I say.

She shrugs. “No clue. Guess we’ll hear about it in Battle Brief today.”

Attacks along our southern borders are rising, all with the same description. Mountain villages are being torn apart wherever the wards weaken.

I hear an enermous growl.

„Sorrengail?” Liam looks over at her, concern etched between his brows.

“Tairn’s awake,” she manages to say, clutching her stomach. „Does it ever get any easier?” Being tackled by what they’re feeling?”

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Aon is pretty good at keeping his emotions to himself, but sometimes I can’t separate myself from him.”

Liam winces. “Deigh keeps pretty good control of himself, but when he’s angry?” Liam shakes his head. “It’s supposed to help once they start channeling and we have the power to shield them out, but you know Carr isn’t going to bother with us until that happens.”

I’d already assumed Liam didn’t have his abilities yet, considering he’s with us in every single class, but it’s comforting to know he’s still in the waning population of powerless riders with me.

“So neither Aon nor Tairn has started channeling to you, either, right?” Liam asks, a look of uncertainty, vulnerability on his face.

I shake my head. “I think he has commitment issues,” I whisper.

“I heard that.”

“Then stay out of my head.”

Suddenly waves of emotions washes over me.

„Don’t be an ass.”

I swear I hear him chuff a chuckle in response.

“We’d better hurry or we’ll miss breakfast.” Liam says.

“Right.” Violet finishes rolling the scroll and put it back on the cart.

---

“I want to be like the cool kids,” Rhiannon grumbles as first-years from Second and Third Wings pour out of the stairwell of the turret that leads up to Professor Carr’s classroom that afternoon, further clogging the hallway on our way to Battle Brief.

“We will,” Violet promises, linking her arm through hers.

“You may be cool, but you will never be as cool as I am!” Ridoc pushes past Liam and me, and throws his arm over Violet’s shoulder.

“She’s talking about everyone who’s already channeling,” I explain, juggling my books so I don’t drop them. “Though at least if we’re not channeling, we’re not stressed about manifesting a signet before the magic kills us.” The relic on my back tingles.

“Oh, I thought we were discussing how I just owned that physics test.” He grins. “Definitely the highest score in the class.”

Rhiannon rolls her eyes. “Please. I scored five points higher than you.”

“We stopped counting your grades months ago.” He leans forward slightly. “Your grades in that class make it unfair for the rest of us.” He looks between Liam and me. “Wait. What did you get, Melgren? Mairi?”

“Not getting into the middle of this,” Liam responds.

“Me neither” I laugh at him.

I had pretty good scores. Only thanks to Liam. Despite of his assignment, he still has time to study with me. And I will be eternally grateful to him.

I smile at him as we’re entering the bottleneck of cadets to get into the briefing room.

“Sorry, Sorrengail,” someone says, stepping out of the way and tugging their friend with them as we enter the tiered classroom.

“Nothing to be sorry about!” She calls out, but they’re already headed up a few rows. “I’m never going to get used to that.”

“It definitely makes getting places easier,” Rhiannon teases her as we descend the steps that curve along the massive turret.

We find our row and walk to our seats, sitting as a squad among the first-years.

The room buzzes with energy as riders file in, and I can’t help but notice that no one has to stand anymore. Our numbers have decreased exponentially in the last four months. The number of empty chairs is sobering. We lost another first-year yesterday when he got too close to another rider’s Red Scorpiontail on the flight field. One second he was standing there, and the next he was a scorched patch of earth. I kept as close to Aon as possible the rest of the session.

My scalp prickles, but I fight the urge to turn around.

“Riorson just got here,” Liam says with mirth in his voice from the seat to my left, breaking from the little dragon figurine he’s carving and looking up the rows toward the third-years.

“Figured.” I hold up my middle finger to him and keep my eyes forward.

He just loves teasing me. Asshole.

Liam snorts and grins, flashing his dimple. “Now, that we’re talking about Xaden. I noticed that you two are always bickering. Tell me, is it fun pissing off the most powerful rider in the quadrant? ”

“You could try it yourself and find out,” I suggest, opening my notebook to the next empty page. I can’t turn around. I won’t. Wanting Xaden is fine. It has to be. Indulging the impulses it gives me? That’s asinine.

“That’s going to be a no from me.” He shakes his head.

I lose the battle with my self-control and look over my shoulder. Sure enough, Xaden is seated in the top row next to Garrick, mastering the art of looking bored. He gives Liam a nod, which Liam returns.

Then he concentrates on his carving, which looks a lot like his Red Daggertail, Deigh.

“Then you should focus on Vi. She is you’re assignment, not me.” I shot back.

“I swear, you’d think there were assassination attempts on me during every class with the way he makes you shadow me.” She shakes her head.

“In his defense, people are fond of trying to kill you.” Rhiannon sets out her supplies.

“One time! It’s happened one time, Rhi!” She says as she adjusts her posture.

“Right. And what would you call that whole thing with Tynan?” Rhiannon asks.

“Threshing.” She shrugs.

“And Barlowe’s constant threats?” I arch a brow at her.

“She has a point there,” Sawyer chimes in, leaning forward from the seat next to Rhiannon’s.

“They’re just threats. The only time I’ve actually been targeted was at night, and it’s not like Liam here is sleeping in my bedroom.”

„I mean, I’m not opposed—” he begins, his knife hovering over the piece of wood.

“Don’t even start.” She whips her head to face him and she blushes. “You are a shameless flirt.”

“Thank you.” He grins and goes back to carving.

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“Don’t mind her, she’s just sexually frustrated. Makes a girl crabby.” I say and write the date down on the empty page with my quill. Those easy, mess-less pens some of the others can already use is just another reason I can’t wait to channel. No more quills. No more inkpots.

„That has nothing to do with it.” She shots me a glare.

“And yet I don’t hear you denying it.” I smile sweetly at her.

“I’m sorry I don’t make the cut,” Liam teases. “But I can review a couple candidates, especially if it means you’ll stop being so edgy.”

“And how exactly would you be reviewing candidates? What will you be scoring?” Rhiannon asks, one eyebrow raised above her wide grin. “This I have to hear.”

I manage a straight face for all of two seconds before laughing at how horrified he suddenly looks.

“Thanks for the offer, though. I’ll make sure to run any potential liaisons by you.” Violet teases him.

“I mean, you could watch,” Rhiannon continues, blinking innocently at him. “Just to be sure she’s fully covered. You know, so no one…sticks it to her.”

“Oh, are we telling dick jokes now?” Ridoc asks from my other side. “Because my entire life has led up to this very moment.”

Even Sawyer laughs.

“Fuck me,” Liam mutters under his breath. “I’m just saying that since you’re protected at night now—” We laugh harder, and he blows out a deep breath.

“Wait.” Vi stops laughing. “What do you mean I’m protected at night? Because you’re next door? Please tell me he’s not making you sleep in the hallway or something obnoxious.”

“No. Of course not. He warded your door the morning after the attack.” His expression clearly says she should know this. “I’m guessing he didn’t tell you?”

“He what?”

“He warded your door,” Liam says, quieter this time. “So only you can open it.”

“But if he’s the one who warded it, then he can get in, too, right?” I ask.

„Well, yeah.” Liam shrugs as Professors Markham and Devera walk down the stairs, heading for the front of the room. “But it’s not like Riorson is going to kill her.”

“Right. You see, I’m still adjusting to that little change of heart.” I fumble my quill and it falls to the ground, but before I can lean over, the shadows beneath the arm of my desk lift the instrument like an offering. I pluck it out of the shadows and look back at Xaden.

He’s locked in conversation with Garrick, not paying me a speck of attention.

Except, apparently, he is.

“If we can get started?” Markham calls over the room, and we fall silent as he places the scroll we had delivered to him before breakfast on the podium. “Excellent.”

I write Sumerton down at the top of the page and Liam trades his knife for a quill.

“First announcement,” Devera says, stepping forward. “We’ve decided that not only will the winners of this year’s Squad Battle receive bragging rights—” She grins like we’re in for a treat. “But they’ll also be given a trip to the front lines to shadow an active wing.”

Cheers break out all around us.

“So if we win, we get a chance to die sooner?” Rhiannon whispers.

“Maybe they’re trying a reverse psychology thing.” I glance at the others around us who are clearly overjoyed and worry about their sanity. Either I am a fool or everyone else.

“You crave the action just as much as they do, little one.”

“Don’t you have better things to do with your day than listen in on my private thoughts?”

“Not particularly. Now pay attention.”

“Stop butting in and maybe I can,” I counter.

Aon chuffs. One day I might be able to translate that sound, but it’s not today.

“I know the Squad Battle doesn’t commence until spring,” Devera continues, “but I figured that news would give you all the proper motivation to apply yourselves in every area leading up to the challenges.”

Another cheer resounds.

“And now that we have your attention.” Markham lifts his hand and the room quiets. “The front lines are relatively quiet today, so we’re going to take this opportunity to dissect the Battle of Gianfar.”

My quill hovers above my notebook. Surely he didn’t say that.

The mage lights rise to the Cliffs of Dralor that separate Tyrrendor, lifting the entire province thousands of feet above the rest of the Continent, before shining brightest on the ancient stronghold along the southern border. “This battle was pivotal to the unification of Navarre, and though it happened more than six centuries ago, there are important lessons that still impact our flight formations to this day.”

“Is he serious?” I whisper to Liam.

“Yeah.” Liam’s grip bends his quill. “I think he is.”

“What made this battle unique?” Devera asks, her eyebrows raised. “Bryant?”

“The stronghold was not only set for a siege,” the second-year says from high above us, “but was equipped with the first cross-bolt, which proved lethal against dragonkind.”

“Yes. And?” Devera prompts.

“It was one of the final battles where gryphons and dragons actually worked alongside each other to annihilate the army of the Barrens,” the second-year continues.

I glance left and right, watching the other riders begin to take notes. Surreal. This is just…surreal.

None of them knows what we do, that an entire village of Navarrians was ransacked last night along the border and supplies looted. And yet, we’re discussing a battle that happened before the convenience of indoor plumbing was invented.

“Now, pay close attention,” Markham lectures. “Because you’ll be turning in a detailed report in three days and drawing comparisons to battles from the last twenty years.”

“Was that scroll marked classified?” Liam asks under his breath.

“No,” Violet responds just as quietly. “But maybe I missed it?”

The battle map doesn’t even show activity near that mountain range.

“Yeah.” He nods, scratching his quill against the parchment as he begins to take notes. “That has to be it. You missed it.”

I blink, forcing my hand through the motions of writing about a battle I’ve analyzed dozens of times with The General. Liam’s right. That’s the only possible explanation. Our clearance isn’t high enough, or maybe they haven’t finished gathering all the information needed to form an accurate report.

Or it had to have been marked classified. We just missed it.

Or…they withold information from us.

I need to speak with The General. Somehow I have to gather more information.

“Careful, little one. You need to be careful when you uncover the secrets.” I hear Aon’s warning.

[beardedmrbean]

CBS host Margaret Brennan made what many called an "incredibly dumb" and "deeply ignorant" statement claiming Nazi Germany "weaponized free speech" during her show on Sunday.

The "Face the Nation" host clashed with Secretary of State Marco Rubio over Vice President JD Vance’s speech at the Munich Security Conference in Germany last week. After Vance criticized European allies for adopting a "soviet"-style approach to censorship, Brennan implied free speech likely led to the Holocaust.

"Well, he was standing in a country where free speech was weaponized to conduct a genocide," Brennan replied. "He met with the head of a political party that has far-right views and some historic ties to extreme groups. The context of that was changing the tone of it. And you know that."

"Well, I have to disagree with you. No- I have- I have to disagree with you," Rubio said as the pair talked over one another. "Free speech was not used to conduct a genocide. The genocide was conducted by an authoritarian Nazi regime that happened to also be genocidal because they hated Jews and they hated minorities, and they had a list of people they hated, but primarily the Jews."

He added, "There was no free speech in Nazi Germany. There was none. There was also no opposition in Nazi Germany. They were the sole and only party that governed that country. So that's not an accurate reflection of history."

The exchange quickly went viral with several conservative users calling out Brennan for a "bonkers" take on Nazi Germany.

"Wow. Margaret Brennan ACTUALLY claims that the Holocaust happened because ‘free speech was weaponized’ in Nazi Germany. She’s incredibly dumb, a blatant Democrat propagandist or both. Doesn’t really matter which it is, @CBSNews should fire her over this," conservative activist Robby Starbuck remarked.

Radio host Erick Erickson commented, "Can we just talk about how a prominent American news anchor actually believes Nazi Germany had free speech and that supposed free speech is to blame for the Holocaust? That's both deeply arrogant and deeply ignorant."

"Anyone claiming ‘free speech was weaponized to conduct a genocide’ in Nazi Germany is either profoundly ignorant or deliberately lying. The Nazis didn’t ‘weaponize’ free speech, they abolished it. No one pushing nonsense like this should be allowed anywhere near a newsroom," author Hans Mahncke wrote.

"This bonkers. Like pull her off the air bonkers," RedState writer Bonchie commented.

The Federalist CEO Sean Davis joked, "Welp. I guess that means Trump needs to shut down CBS to prevent another Holocaust. Not the path I would’ve chosen, but if Margaret Brennan says that allowing CBS to just say whatever it wants will lead to another Holocaust, who am I to argue? Better to be safe and shut down CBS than be sorry you let CBS bring Hitler back."

The National Review editor Philip Klein also joked, "If it weren’t for the famously robust 1st Amendment protections in Nazi Germany the Jews might have stood a chance."

"’[F]ree speech helped cause the holocaust’ is a new one," Targeted Victory vice president Logan Dobson remarked.

Vance responded to the CBS clip, calling the comments "crazy."

"This is a crazy exchange. Does the media really think the holocaust was caused by free speech?" Vance wrote.

The vice president also went viral on Friday with his speech criticizing many European leaders about their cavalier attitude towards censoring ordinary citizens out of fear of "misinformation."

"To many of us on the other side of the Atlantic, it looks more and more like old entrenched interests hiding behind ugly Soviet-era words like 'misinformation' and ‘disinformation,’ who simply don't like the idea that somebody with an alternative viewpoint might express a different opinion or, God forbid, vote a different way, or even worse, win an election," Vance said.