#cause this season so many of them have been claimed by the water you cannot tell me they do not just sit at the bottom sometimes

[noodlesnatcher]

What a catch!

(close ups under cut)

[sunnys-day]

Siren's Song

I literally have no idea what this is. I was listening to Sea Shanties and instead of finishing one of the MANY WIPs I have, this popped into my head. I did google if middle earth has mermaids and found a blurb about an older story that mentioned 'foam maidens' and ran with it. I don't post a ton of my stories and this has not been betad but I'm oddly proud of it. It shows that I'm slowly coming out of my funk and that gives me hope. So enjoy this... whatever it is about a mermaid trying to figure out what is wrong with the land dwellers.

Word Count: 6697

Characters: Sereia (sir-rye-ah), Bard, Bard's kids, The dwarves

Setting: Erebor/Dale after BOFTA, AU where everyone lived.

Song at the end: Drunken Sailor (specifically the one by the Irish Rovers)

TW: Mention of the battle and bloodshed, mention of mermaids luring men to their death, mention of smaug's rotting corpse

**

The singing had begun two years after the Battle of the Five Armies and destruction of Smaug. At first Thorin thought the dragon sickness had taken him over and he’d gone mad but after Fili and Bard started mentioning it, he knew it wasn’t just his imagination. The voice was female and hauntingly beautiful, the words both unfamiliar and yet giving off the feeling of an old friend. A few braver souls had tried finding the source of the voice but it led to the lake and many feared the place to be occupied by evil spirits. Many argued that Smaug’s evil had leaked into the bay and poisoned the nymphs that once called the waters home, so the voice was left alone… for a season. * Durin’s Day, 3 years to the day that the secret passage was found, the voice woke the king of Erebor from a deep sleep and Thorin decided he had enough of superstitions and made his way to the edge of the lake, listening to the song and allowing the melody to wash over him. The words told a tale of a young woman falling in love with a sailor and it caused his soul to begin to desire to leave the mountain and travel the sea, in search of the lass that pierced his heart with her siren song.

“Uncle?”

Thorin hadn’t realized he was waist deep in the water until Fili’s voice cut through the mist in his mind, the vocalization still sounding from the depths, calling him to the arms of the body the voice surely belonged to.

“Uncle, for your life you must come out of the lake.”

For his life he would go further but before he could take another step, Fili had grasped his arms and was pulling him back onto shore. The two of them stood in silence for a moment once Fili knew Thorin was out of the siren’s grasp, the song still sounding but the magic lessened on dry land.

“Do you know what it is?”

“Legolas called it a water spirit but Gandalf claims it to be a mermaid. A creature that lives in the waters of middle earth and lures people to their death by its song.”

“Then it is evil?”

“I cannot say for sure. Ori found some old books on them and there are many stories on them, suggesting that there are different types. Some can come on dry land and are merely curious about us, some solely seem to exist to bring death, some are omens warning about great calamities, some come after such a time and sing to bring peace and heal the wounds caused by”

“War?”

“Aye. War.”

“And which, nephew, do you believe this one to be?”

“I would hope it be the last one but until we know for sure… maybe we should keep out of the lake.”

“Very well.” he agreed, following his nephew back to the mountain, one last look cast over his shoulder at the water and the music still coming from it.

The same song was heard over the next few nights but Thorin kept to his room, listening to the voice from his window and allowing the melody to lure him to sleep. The moment he knew this wasn’t from a ghostly specter but a being with a mind that could learn and adapt was the night Bard’s children were found sitting by the water and listening to a song clearly meant for them.

“Come little children I'll take thee away into a land of enchantment. Come little children the time's come to play here in my garden of shadows…”

When questioned, Tilda explained that their new friend had told them to sit on the shore but NOT to enter the water. She told her father that the friend didn’t say why they had to stay out of the lake but that they were incredibly insistent so they thought it best to obey. While the creature hadn’t drowned his children, it still made the king’s uneasy, knowing that the singing was luring people to it and Gandalf’s warning to Fili was brought forward as evidence to why they should find a way to rid the kingdoms of it. * Below the water lay the rotting corpse of Smaug, a reminder that nothing is truly indestructible and that all things must come to an end when their season is finished. Though the land dwellers feared the waters, a school of fish played hide and seek between his ribs while the owner of the voice picked up some of the jewels that had been stuck to him when his body came to rest on the bottom of the lake-bed. She had heard tales of the mortals markets and what was needed to attain their wares, the gold seemed to hold great meaning for them and as this would be her first time on land she was hoping to get the best experience the gold could give her.

She was what the sailors called a ‘water nymph’ or ‘foam maiden’ and while she had similarities to her cousins, her singing being one of them, she sang to heal not to hurt. The war had seen many good people lost and the bloodstained water had called to her people, begging them to send someone to help heal it’s wounds. The tale it told made her heart ache for the water and the land beyond and she’d volunteered, determined to right so many wrongs.

The men she’d seen were, she was sure, what the mortals would call handsome but there was so much hurt hiding in their hearts. Wrongs done to them that they had tried to bury in hopes of moving their kingdoms forward, faster. She’d tried to help the one but those on land were always superstitious of things in the water and he’d been pulled away before she could work her magic. The children were dear things but she feared they would get out too far and hurt themselves so she ordered them to stay ashore, her intentions pure but misinterpreted by the men. Now she had a chance to visit the kingdoms and it was her deepest hope that it would give her a better insight into how to help the lands and the people that lived within it. * The day the two worlds would collide was a sunny, winter day in December. The markets were bustling with shoppers trying to get gifts for Yule and the lake had a thin sheet of ice over it, small ice caps floating over the water like spirits of ships past and singing lullabies that only those willing to listen would be treated to. If any of the inhabitants of either Dale or Erebor had taken a second to glance towards the charred remains of lake-town or stolen a look at the once battlefield, they would have seen the woman that came out of the crystal blue water. Her skin was pale with an almost blue tint to it that was not easily seen by mortal eyes, her hair was nearly to her thighs and was an inky black that had been twisted into a mess of braids that sat on her head like a crown, her eyes were a deep blue that appeared to sparkle like the sapphires and diamonds kept in Erebor’s treasury, and in her entirety did she embody what the mortals would describe as perfect.

The magic that flowed through her veins allowed her to easily change from that of a mermaid with a tail and gills to… well… not quite human but close enough in appearance to an elf that the mortals tended not to notice the subtle differences. She had never used her legs on land but all of her kind were taught at a young age how to use them, the sea floor acting as their walkway, and while the land didn’t have the flow her home had she was managing all the same. Conjuring up appropriate dress for the season and the clothing of those in this part of the world was the final step before spending her first day outside the water.

All heads turned when she walked by, looking at all the odd things the people were selling and wondering at their use. She felt very like a child among all this newness but reminded herself that they would be just as out of sorts if they set foot within her cities. She could hear the murmurs from the dwarves, who thought themselves very quiet when to her it was as though they were shouting, all wondering who she was and if she was from Thranduil’s court. Even a few of the humans stopped and stared at the woman, so much so that she felt it necessary to move away from them all. She’d heard stories of what could go wrong among the humans, stories that explained why some of their people turned murderous, and she did not wish to join the ranks of the sirens.

A child’s laughter caught her ear and she was delighted to see the young girl from before. Her brother and sister was with her and the person she could only assume was her father. He had a kindness in his eyes but she knew his hurt and sadness went deep… this one and the dwarf king had such wounds on their hearts that it made her want to reach out and hold them until all was right in their world. So enmeshed was she in their hurt that it took her a minute to realize she’d been staring and that the little girl had noticed and while she probably should have pointed it out to her father, she simply skipped over and put her hand in this strangers as though it belonged there.

“I know you.” She smiled up at her. “You’re my water friend.”

“Tilda!” her father ran over, gently pulling her away in case the woman took offense. “Tilda, you cannot run up to people you do not know.” His reprimand was gentle and when he finally looked at the woman his apology seemed stuck in his throat at the sight of her. “I…” his children had never seen their father tongue tied and yet here he was. “I… I’m sorry miss” he finally managed to get out.

“Sorry? For what?” she never understood the overuse of apology the land dwellers used. They were forever saying they’re sorry but hardly ever meaning it. “Is she venomous?” It was a genuine question, some water folk were venomous, so in her mind it made sense that perhaps some humans were as well. His laughter at the perceived joke confused her a little but figured she could worry about it if she got bit, not that she thought this little one was a biter.

“I don’t think so.” He finally answered, his gentle manner appealing to her greatly. “My name’s Bard. These are my children, Bain, Sigrid, and Tilda. What’s your name?”

“Sereia”

“Beautiful” Sigrid snickered at how smitten her father seemed to already be with this woman and while there was something familiar about her, only Tilda immediately knew who she was. “Are you new to town?”

“Yes. I only arrived today”

“Visiting family?”

“No. Just visiting.”

“Well, would you care to join us? We can show you all our kingdom has to offer.”

“Oh I wouldn’t want to intrude. You are spending the day with your family and I am sure your wife would not appreciate…” her voice trailed off when an odd expression crossed Bard’s face at the mention his wife.

“Were my wife still alive, I am sure she would have been happy to have you join us.”

That’s why that look was so familiar. It was the same one her brother got whenever someone spoke of his lost love. “I am so sorry. I didn’t…”

Not even on land 2 hours and she was already making a fool of herself. She was sure it would have been less embarrassing if she tripped and knocked over a table than the way she was currently stumbling over her words. A part of her thought that maybe she just wasn’t cut out for land and seriously considered going back home when he offered her his arm.

“Please Sereia, it would be an honor to have you join us.” Between Tilda’s hopeful expression and Bard’s sincere tone she knew it would be unkind to refuse. Once their arms were linked it was though a current of electricity was flowing through them and a glance up told her that he was feeling it too. * The day had started off like any ordinary day, his hopes of sleeping in dashed into a thousand pieces by his sister throwing open his curtains and letting the sun in. Comments about him sleeping the day away made no less than four times and it finally ending when he agreed to go with her and her sons to the market. It wasn’t his favorite way to pass the day but his opinion changed when his eyes landed on the most breathtakingly beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life. She was walking with Bard and his children and he cursed the luck of the dragon slayer. He wanted to meet her, hear her name and discover if it was as beautiful as the woman it belonged to, his feet obeying his thoughts before he knew what he was doing.

“Thorin, where are you going?”

“Bard is here, I’m just going to say hello. I’ll be right back Dis.”

“Oh, alright. Invite him and the children to dinner, his daughters are just darling.”

“I will.”

The small family was at a booth that was selling candy apples and both the men were entranced by the sight of her ruby lips biting into the treat. The feeling of eyes on her made her look about, her lip curving a bit when she discovered the reason behind the feeling and causing the dwarf king to blush scarlet and make his presence known before he made a bigger fool of himself.

“Bard, good to see you my friend.”

“Thorin, good to see you as well.”

The greetings were kind but she sensed a falseness about them. These two had a past and from what she could feel, it wasn’t all that great. The niceties seemed forced and though the kingdoms were thriving, she couldn’t help but wonder how much greater they could be if their kings truly liked one another.

“How are you this fine day?”

“Very well. As you can see, I am graced with a beautiful companion.”

“Aye and what is your friend’s name?”

“Sereia” she smiled kindly.

“Serena, beautiful.”

“Sereia.”

“Serena.”

She was trying not to laugh, her name wasn’t one used on land but Bard had gotten it the first try and she couldn’t help but wonder if the dwarf king was a little hard of hearing. “No” she corrected gently. “Sereia. Sir-rye-ah.”

“Sereia.”

“There you’ve got it.”

“As magical and as beautiful as the one it belongs to.”

If she thought Thorin was just being kind she would be more comfortable but in this moment his intentions were rolling off of him like the waves in the sea. All mermaids were beautiful and because of that they had a tendency to attract attention but Sereia knew where that could lead, especially when it was two men vying for the attention of the same person. He’d taken her hand and pressed a kiss to the top, keeping her hand in his until Tilda came bounding over and pulling on her arm.

“Sereia! You have to see this!”

“Excuse me” she bowed slightly to both men, thankful for the small girl’s interruption.

Sereia managed to remain with the children for most of the day, leaving Bard and Thorin to their conversations. The men were talking about her, both wondering where she came from and deciding to ask Thranduil if she was from his court, while the woman in question was currently helping Bain pick out a small present for his father.

“You sure he’ll like this one?”

“I’m not sure of anything Bain.” She smiled softly “I only met your father today but I am sure that anything from you or your sisters will be the very best gift and that he will treasure it for as long as he lives.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because, all parents are the same.”

“Do you have children?” Sigrid inquired, asking a few more pointed questions, more for her father’s benefit than her own.

“No. I’ve never loved anyone enough to want children.”

“You mean you’ve never been married.” Bain corrected.

“No. I would have a child with someone I wasn’t married to if I loved them enough.” Sigrid and Bain looked to one another and she couldn’t understand the disapproval she was feeling in them.

“Don’t worry Sereia” Tilda assured her, hugging her around the middle. “I’m sure the rules are different for people that live in the water than for us.”

“I’m sure you are right.”

“Wait…” Sigrid had heard Tilda call her ‘her water friend’ but assumed it was just her sister playing pretend. Sereia agreeing with her on this made her think that maybe Tilda knew more than she thought. “Sereia, are you… were you… you’re the voice?”

“Aye. I’m the voice.” She whispered, not knowing how the adults would react if they heard. “But lets keep that to ourselves shall we?”

“Of course but we’ve been wondering.” Sigrid looked to Bain but her brother seemed stunned at this newest puzzle piece “Why did you tell us to stay ashore while luring Thorin into the water?”

“I was not sure you could swim.” It was a statement with very little follow up “Thorin can.” The face Sigrid made confused her to no end and she was going to find out why she made it. “That’s how it goes, isn’t it? Children and smaller beings may not be able to swim but adults and large beings can?”

“No Sereia, not always. The three of us can swim very well but we know that some of the dwarves stay in the shallows because they’re not strong swimmers.”

“Are you saying I…” her face paled even more, showing the blue tint of her skin more clearly, and her voice was so quiet that Sigrid strained to hear her. “I almost drowned Thorin?!”

“I think Thorin can swim but rumors were swirling that he was bewitched.”

“Nonsense. I do not bewitch people.”

“Are you sure?”

She wanted to say she was but truthfully she had no idea what affect her music had on mortals. She knew they were drawn to it, especially if they had hurts that needed tended to, but to claim she placed them under a spell… if she had, it was unintentional. “Perhaps my coming today was a mistake.”

“No! Please don’t go!”

“Tilda” Sereia knelt down so she could look into the little girl’s eyes, the blue reminding her of waters she called home. “I didnae say I was leaving, I was merely wondering aloud.” Her words soothed the young girl but her next ones caused Tilda’s lip to jut out into a pout “I will stay until the sunsets and then I will be on my way.”

“Stay longer?”

“I cannot”

“Please?”

“Tilda, she said she can’t.” Bain stepped in before she could make a scene. “Instead of worrying about her leaving, why don’t we enjoy the time we do have with her.”

“Alright.”

“That’s a good girl.” when the smile was back on Tilda's face, Sereia stood up and gave her a quick hug before turning to a table with small mirrors and other things that the mermaid found fascinating. Her attention never seemed to be in one place for too long, so many booths to see and all a first for her. Though she was trying, at least until something caught her eye. “What is this called?” she whispered to Bain who held back a snicker.

“A fork.”

“What is its use?”

“For eating.”

“Oh… you don’t just use your hands?” he shook his head ‘no’ and she simply shrugged and picked up one of the mirrors. “How much for this?” she asked the shop keep, who’d been all out staring at her for the past several minutes.

“2 coins miss.”

“Um… Bain, can you?” she handed him the coin purse off her belt and he took out the correct amount for her and handed it to the owner. “Thank you.”

“Would you like me ta wrap that for ye miss?”

“Do I want that?” she whispered to Sigrid who nodded and took the mirror from her and handed it to the woman. Sereia watched as she placed it in beautiful, well beautiful to her, paper and placed it inside a pouch. “Thank you.”

“Have a nice day miss. Ye ‘ave beautiful children.”

“They are beautiful, aren’t they.” She smiled warmly at them before correcting the lady’s misconception “They are not mine though.”

“She’s a family friend.” Sigrid added after the woman made an odd face. “Sereia, I think father is looking for us.”

“Right. Thank you again” She gave a nod to the woman and left with the kids, smiling brightly at Bard when she caught his eye. He was still speaking to Thorin but there were a few extra and the way the younger dwarves eyes about bugged out of their heads at the sight of her was quite comical.

“Have my children worn you out yet Sereia?”

“Not at all. They’ve been most helpful.” She smiled down at Tilda who had been pretty well glued to her hip since she saw her. Someone cleared their throat, successfully catching her attention and not entirely sure what to do with it now that they had it. “Hello. I’m Sereia, nice to meet you.”

“Fili”

“And Kili.”

“At your service.” Them saying it in unison completely caught her off guard and she looked up at Bard so bewildered he didn’t quite hide his laughter well enough.

“Do people not greet one another like that where you’re from Sereia?” he asked, still thoroughly amused by her reaction.

“No. Not at all but I am curious as to what services you two speak.” She was so genuine that neither of the brothers had it in them to be cross, they were sure she wasn’t making fun and they were curious about where she was from if the greetings were so different. “Is it something like the people selling wares or do your talents lie elsewhere?”

Both the princes minds ran wild with her question but didn’t dare speak on it. They were sure Thorin would be outraged if they spoke crudely to this lovely visitor and they really did want to make a good impression.

“Elsewhere milady” Fili answered easily

“Fili and Kili are my nephews.” Thorin thought he was explaining something but she wasn’t sure what that had to do with talents. Her people had royalty as well and most of them were rather useless. Still, she didn’t come on to the land to be rude so she decided that nodding was probably the right choice.

“Oh… so your talents are being… royal?” No, that didn’t sound correct. They were speaking the same language but Sereia felt as though nothing made sense. Back home she was considered highly intelligent, one of the most skilled in her craft, but here everyone was looking at her as though she was a child and it was beginning to make her uncomfortable.

“Kili is an incredibly talented archer” Fili answered, refusing to laugh at the woman. “He is also very kind and funny.”

“And Fili is a great warrior” Kili added, always happy to brag about his brother. “He is caring, loyal, and you will be hard pressed to find a better man than my brother.”

That was more what she’d been hoping to hear. Being good with weapons and in battle was all well and good but she was more interested in the heart of a person. These brothers clearly loved one another and she had hope for the future of this kingdom when they would one day rule. Sure, Fili was the eldest but she had no doubt that Kili would be right there with suggestions to help their people.

“Then I am very glad to know you.” she curtsied to the pair and her smile was so warm that Kili thought it could melt the ice off the coldest of hearts. “The world needs more kind and loyal people in it.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Bard placed his arm around her waist and though outwardly she didn’t seem to mind, inwardly she had no idea what was going on. This felt very much like being claimed but Bard did not come off as the type of man to take what was not his. Truthfully, she didn’t belong to anyone but she had just met these men and she could hear her mother’s voice in her head warning her about the mortals. ‘They may come off as charming my darling but you will never know what their true intentions are until it is too late. Even with your gift, you may still be in danger. You never know who is imbued with magic and able to hide behind it.’

“Well, it is getting quite late and I must be off. It was nice meeting all of you.”

“Oh no, stay!” Kili wasn’t one to beg but it felt unfair to not get at least a little bit of time with her. “Have dinner with us. Bard and the children are all coming and there is always room for one more.”

Most mermaids only came out of the water one time a year but the actual law was you could come and go as you pleased as long as you returned on the second day. However if you got stuck and were unable to return by then, you could not return to the water until they next year, which was fine if the person wished to remain on land but so far she’d found the experience not entirely to her liking. Still, she did like these people and the thought of tasting their food definitely appealed to her…

“Very well but then I really must be off.”

“Come then.”

Thorin offered his arm and while Bard loosened his grip on her, she could still feel that he was reluctant to do so. However being rude to the man that was about to feed her didn’t sit well with her so she stepped forward and linked her arm in his, which was a little awkward as she was quite a bit taller than him. ‘One foot in front of the other.’ She told herself as they made their way into the great halls of Erebor. * Sereia, try as she might, couldn’t go anywhere without causing a commotion. Even walking to the dining hall had created a stir among the people, many dwarves wondering loudly if she was the King’s new consort, a thought that made her blush to the tips of her ears. It wasn’t that she thought him repulsive or anything, Thorin was quite charming, but some of the comments were… colorful. Inquiries on topics involving the bedroom that she thought they ought to be ashamed for speaking about. It was a relief when they were finally sat at the table. Thorin was to her right at the head, Bard was directly across from her, Tilda was on her right, and the other two children were by their father. Fili and Kili were sat by their mother across the way and soon the table was filled with 12 other dwarves that were all VERY intrigued by the newcomer.

“Friends, Family… tonight we have the honor of hosting Sereia. She is a visitor in our lands and this is the first time she’s been to this part of Middle Earth. Please make her feel welcome.”

His announcement did nothing for her nerves and Tilda felt the second she started to shake. Sereia was trying to maintain her composure but this was overwhelming for her. Most of her people were gentlefolk, the vibrations from loud noises hurt their ears and while it was a different sensation on land, it still made her anxious… until she felt a small hand slip into hers and squeeze.

“I’ve got you” Tilda promised and in that second Sereia didn’t feel quite so afraid.

Bard watched the interaction and the way Sereia’s gaze softened whenever she looked at his daughter made his heart sit heavy in his chest. This was a feeling he hadn’t felt in a very long time and he hoped he would have a chance to get to know her better. As it stood tonight, the others were quick to claim her attention and spent most of the dinner asking her many questions. Some she had to pretend she didn’t hear as she couldn’t answer honestly.

“So lass, where ye be from?”

“I’m sorry sir, what is your name?”

“Bofur.”

“Right, well Bofur I am from a coastal town.”

“Really?” a much older dwarf smiled, always enjoying the sea and wishing he could spend more time there. “Ya be mighty far from home then.”

“Aye…”

“Balin.”

“Balin… yes I uh… I must admit this is my first time away from home. It feels strange being so far inland as this.”

“Water calls ta ye lass?”

“Yes Bofur, it does.”

“Have you ever met a pirate?!” Kili hadn't meant to just blurt it out but he'd never met someone from the seaside and he had about a thousand questions for her, most having to do with pirates.

“Kili!” his mother’s fake outrage was comical, mainly because it was the same tone Sereia’s mother used on her. “Forgive my son. He doesn’t realize what an inappropriate question that is.”

“I asked if she’s met one mum, not if she was one.”

For as hard as she tried, that did make her laugh and she made a small apology for it. “Forgive me, I’m not making fun.”

“That never even occurred to me love.” Dis said warmly.

“To answer both questions.”

“Both?”

“Yes, both. You may not have asked it but I can see that you still want to know whether or not I’m a pirate.”

“She knows you better than you know yourself brother” Fili teased, not mentioning how Kili’s cheeks flushed. “Go ahead Sereia, if he won’t admit it, I will.”

“I hate to disappoint Fili but no, I am not a pirate BUT I have met a few.” That had all ears perked up and listening to her intently. “Some are as ill-mannered as you’d expect but the truly infamous ones are surprisingly genteel. Their crew is usually a different story but from my experience, the captains are generally not so bad. I’m not saying you should make it your mission to befriend one or anything, in fact that would be a very bad idea, but those times they go into port most of the stories you hear are blown out of proportion.”

“What is your favorite experience you’ve had with a pirate?”

“Oh, um…” she couldn’t exactly say, seeing as how it would give away what she was, but she figured she could make something up well enough. “I suppose the time I was taught a song by one.” In truth she'd overheard it so many times that she'd naturally picked it up but it was still what she'd consider an 'experience' with a pirate.

“Can we hear it lass?”

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s more appropriate for places with nightly brawls than a dinner with kings.” She blushed, taken a bit by surprise when Bofur let out a barking laugh.

“I bet I know what one!” Bofur grinned, getting up from his seat and grabbing his flute, surprising her when he started playing the exact tune.

“How do you…”

“Taverns lass, songs travel as fast as stories. Come now, a bit o’ fun is always welcome among dwarves.”

“Alright but you have to sing with me.”

“Deal. Bombur! Nori! Follow along lads.”

Sereia had assumed she’d sing from her seat but was soon hauled on top of the table with the others, manners seemingly forgotten, and while this didn’t feel at all correct Thorin wasn’t telling them to get down so she just went with it. In fact as soon as Bofur began playing, servants started removing the food and plates and placing them on a separate table almost as though this happened more often than not. The happy tune began and by the way several more dwarves, Thorin included, sang along with them she relaxed and allowed herself to enjoy this rather strange dining experience. [all] “What will we do with a drunken sailor? What will we do with a drunken sailor? What will we do with a drunken sailor? Early in the morning! Way hay and up she rises. Way hay and up she rises. Way hay and up she rises. Early in the morning!” [Sereia] “Shave his belly with a rusty razor. Shave his belly with a rusty razor. Shave his belly with a rusty razor. Early in the morning!” [all] “Way hay and up she rises. Way hay and up she rises. Way hay and up she rises. Early in the morning!” [her] “Put him in a long boat till his sober. Put him in a long boat till his sober. Put him in a long boat till his sober. Early in the morning!” [all] “Way hay and up she rises. Way hay and up she rises. Way hay and up she rises. Early in the morning!” The interlude was a merry tune and Sereia pulled up her skirt just enough to show her boots, the jig her father taught her not coming quite as easily as it did under the water but still well enough to earn a cheer from those enjoying the show. [her] “Stick him in a scupper with a hosepipe bottom. Stick him in a scupper with a hosepipe bottom. Stick him in a scupper with a hosepipe bottom. Early in the morning! [all] “Way hay and up she rises. Way hay and up she rises. Way hay and up she rises. Early in the morning!” [her] “Put him in the bed with the captains daughter. Put him in the bed with the captains daughter. Put him in the bed with the captains daughter. Early in the morning!” [all] “That's what we do with a drunken sailor. That's what we do with a drunken sailor. That's what we do with a drunken sailor. Early in the morning! Way hay and up she rises. Way hay and up she rises. Way hay and up she rises. Early in the morning! Way hay and up she rises. Way hay and up she rises. Way hay and up she rises. Early in the morning!”

The final part of the song was more of the merry tune, the dwarves extending it so they could dance with the lass. Sereia had been a little taken off guard when she was grabbed around the waist by Kili, lifted off the table, and spun onto the floor to truly dance with the young prince. Soon they were joined by the others, all of whom took their turn spinning her around the floor. Bain was dancing with Sigrid and Tilda was being spun around by Dis who was the height as the young girl. The dwarves were all shorter than her but that didn’t stop them from literally throwing her in the air and catching her with ease, showing off their strength along with their love for having a good time.

“Da, the song’s almost over. If you’re going to dance with her, now’s your chance.” Sigrid whispered, her eyes dancing along with the music as her father did just that.

Fili had just tossed the mermaid into the air with a spin and Bard caught her before she touched the ground, her eyes looked like they had stars in them and her cheeks were flushed from the dancing.

“May I have this dance?”

“I thought you’d never ask” she smiled, placing her hand in his, her smile growing when he pulled her closer to him and the two of them danced around the great hall.

The dwarves had restarted the song from the beginning, giving the two of them plenty of time to enjoy their evening and it was only towards the end that Tilda’s patience ran out and she cut in, to the great amusement to everyone in attendance. Sereia thought she could dance forever with Bard but telling Tilda no just didn’t sit well so she lifted the young girl into her arms and danced with her until the song stopped at last.

“Well done lass!”

“Ye be a good sport Sereia”

“One more dance?” The last one was Kili and while she thought them all very kind, it was now quite late and she thought it time for her to take her leave. However this dinner had her thinking that perhaps visiting the land wouldn’t be all that bad.

“I thank you all for your hospitality. Tonight has been more fun than I’ve had in a very long time and I do hope we get to do it again soon.”

“Why does it sound like you’re leaving?”

“Because Fili, I am. I’ve got to get some sleep or I will be about as useful as a leaky boat.”

Disappointed groans went around but the company all bid her farewell, Bard taking this moment to head off as well. The small group was lead back outside by Thorin who invited her to join them for their Yule celebrations the next week, an invitation she happily accepted.

“And Bard, you and your children are of course invited too.”

“Thank you Thorin, I do believe we’ll be able to attend.”

“See you then my friend.”

“See you then.” * The family walked with Sereia up to the fork in the road that led one way to Dale and the other to the lake. There was no inn or any other amenities the way she needed to go but she hoped Bard wouldn’t pry too much when she didn’t go the way he expected.

“I should let you get your family home.”

“We can walk you to the inn.”

“That’s quite alright Bard. I was thinking of staying out a bit longer, take in the night air.”

“Sereia, a lady should not walk alone at night. It may not be safe.”

“Da, Thorin’s guards patrol this way every hour.”

“Sigrid’s right. Pretty sure we live in the safest part of all middle earth.”

“Yeah and besides, Sereia knows pirates!” she knew that would be Tilda’s favorite part and figured her imagination must be running absolutely wild right now.

“If you’re sure?”

“I will be fine. Thank you for today Bard and for the dance.”

There were a thousand things he wanted to say to her, a thousand declarations he wanted to make, but for now he simply took her hand and pressed a kiss to the top of it. His lips lingering for just a moment and making her skin feel as though it was burning.

“Good night milady.”

“Good night.” She smiled up at the handsome king before turning to his children and hugging each of them “Good night my darlings.”

“When will we see you again?”

“Anytime you wish” she whispered in Tilda’s ear before answering out loud “You’ll see me at the Yule celebration in four days’ time.”

“Will you come with us?”

“Of course. I’ll meet you right here.”

“Good night Sereia!”

“Good night lovely.”

Sereia watched until the family was out of sight before returning to the lake and that night the inhabitants of the valley and the mountain were treated to beautiful vocalizations, no words sang this evening but if you listened closely you could make out the tune as ‘Drunken Sailor’.

[gaysimpsstuff]

Could I get a Hawks in his rut headcanon?

No problem, Anon! I’m sorry this took so long, I wanted it to be perfect since I really like thinking about Hawks’ avian traits, and I know people really like it too. I hope it’s good! 

Hawks Rut Headcannons

Genre: fluff, smut

Type: headcannons (so... many... headcannons)

Warnings: animal traits, Keigo being possessive af, the commission being assholes, sickness, food, breeding kink, lots of horny times

Other: most of this is based off of real research, but some of it also comes from personal preference. @keilemlucent and their fic Best Nest very much inspired many other headcannons, check them outI They’re one of my favorite creators, and the linked fanfic is one of my favorites! Hope it’s okay I tagged you here lmao

NSFW Taglist: @smolchildfangirl @combat-wombatus @mandalorian-baby-bird @waffleareniceandfluffy (Lemme know if you wanna be added to or removed from the Taglist)

Remember to check if requests are open before sending in a request. This was made while requests were still open.

Pre-Rut Behaviors

Grooming and Preening

Before his rut, Keigo starts to feel dirty. He just seems to accumulate more dust and dirt during hero work than usual. He’ll come back home grumbling about blood in his hair and little bits of concrete in/on his skin.

He will insist you clean him off. So you get to brush his hair, put creams on his face, and wash him off in the shower.

Finally, there’s the preening. If he lets you preen his wings, then you know he’s in it for life. He loves and trusts you with everything he has. 

Expect him to press his nose against yours a lot.

Possessiveness and Protection

You’ll notice he gets more clingy, more possessive of you. He gets really controlling in the days leading up to his rut, so you’ll be annoyed a  l o t.

Just text all your friends and family that you’ve been swamped at work, it’d be a little weird to say “hey guys, sorry I can’t hang out, my boyfriend’s horomones are crazy right now and he gets really insecure if I so much as exist near anyone but him.”

You would come home from work and he’s already on you, sniffing your body to see who you’ve been around, and to see if any of them were attracted to you at all.

If he had any kind of sneaking suspicion that anyone posed a threat, he’s literally laying on you and rolling on top of you to try and get his scent on you. Even if no one will smell it except him, he’s gonna do it.

He’s so protective of you, and if something tiny hurts you or makes you upset...

He.

Is.

Angry.

Someone was rude to you? He’s screaming at them.

Someone tries to hurt or touch you? You’ve got to hold him back to stop him from ripping that person apart limb from limb.

All that x100 when he’s approaching his rut.

One person accidentally bumps into you? He takes it as passive aggressiveness even if they’re very apologetic about it.

You stub your toe on a table? He’s smashed the table and burnt it then thrown the ashes in the ocean. 

If you’re sad about something he can’t beat up, he feels horrible. He’s not the best at comforting people, so he’s just grabbing onto you and not letting go, telling you how much he loves and cares for you, and just how amazing you make his life feel.

If you don’t give him enough attention, he gets really huffy, and it gets worse leading up to his rut. 

You lifted your hands from his head to reach for your buzzing phone? He’s already whining and pouting and begging you to give him more head-pats again.

Nesting

He’ll leave hints asking for you to make a nest, usually saying things like “Our bed needs some changing, don’t you think?” “Don’t you wish our space was more personalized?” 

If you don’t get the hint, he’ll be very sad, and he thinks you’re rejecting him. So you’d better be good at reading into things and realizing he’s approaching mating season and wants you to build a nest.

He comes home one day and sees you piled blankets, pillows, and dirty clothes in the living room, sprayed with his cologne and you’re cologne and/or perfume. He pulls you into his arms and spins around with you, giggling and laughing.

He’s so happy you made a nest for the two of you. 

He starts putting pretty shiny things he likes around the nest. Your toothbrush went missing and you found it in the mountain that was your nest.

Once, you were in desperate need of a clean shirt, and the only clean shirt you could find was in the nest. So you picked it up to put it on, and two seconds later, Keigo was in front of you, hands in your shirt, staring at you with such a fierce intensity, you felt almost like a villain.

He was very mad at you for taking things from your shared nest.

He leaves feathers all around the penthouse, but they’re all piled mostly around the nest, they’re for your protection so don’t try and throw them away.

Noises

He also gets really noisy, so he’ll be ‘singing’ and squawking and cooing constantly. He feels really bad about it so he might get you some noise-blocking headphones for when he’s screeching into the sky in the dead of night about how “THIS IS MY FUCKING TERRITORY Y’ALL MOTHERFUCKERS STAY AWAYYYY!”

You really think bird’s springtime songs are about love? Nah he’s mostly screaming about how he’s gonna fuck his partner and how the neighborhood  practically belongs to him.

Someone called the police once, tired of all the shouting, but the officers backed off when they saw who was doing all the shouting. Most of your neighbors are used to the screaming during early spring.

Rut End-game

On the third and second to last day before his rut, he gets a sudden burst of energy and an increased appetite. He refuses to eat anything unless you’ve made it though, so let’s best hope you can cook at least a little.

When he was younger, his hungry times before his rut were spent either eating anything and everything he can get his hands on. The commission broke that behavior very quickly though, so he’d starve himself before his rut, which would result in him getting very sick from a lack of energy and sustenance. That plus the extreme arousal was a recipe for pain and suffering.

So when you noticed he suddenly stopped eating, you insisted on making food for him, telling him that you wouldn’t let him go hungry ever. That was the first rut in years that didn’t feel like torture.

You’re cooking almost all the time, and he’s constantly eating everything you give him, running around from room to room while he waits for his next meal. He’s basically a hobbit.

In the last day or two before his rut, he suddenly has no energy, and starts getting hot and cold flashes. He’s sniffling, curled up in your shared nest, dirty tissues surrounding him. He comes in and out of consciosness, and when he’s awake, he’s whining and complaining about exhaustion and aches.

Physical Changes

Most of these happen in the last few days leading up to his rut, so it’ll be very sudden. These physical changes is what causes the extreme hunger and sickness.

His feathers darken several shades, and they become super sensitive. They also seem to grow in size, so when you cuddle, you’re smothered by them more than usual.

He also gains an extra couple inches in height, so expect some teasing now that he’s just that little bit taller. His hair also gets thicker and stronger, that’s so you can pull on it when he fucks you.

His nails get longer and darker, and they’re impossible to file or cut. So when he holds you and touches you, he often scratches you on accident. He’s really apologetic about it, but honestly you could totally paint his nails and pretend they’re acrylics if you’re into that.

His teeth get sharper, and he starts biting you just for fun. Bites your finger, hand, wrist, neck, even your nose. He underestimated just how strong his teeth are, and he made you bleed first time he bit you.

His whole body is very sensitive, so head-pats, back rubs, wings, and even his touching his feet can get him to the verge of cumming.

his tongue is longer, and it’s a whole lot stronger. He could probably carry a full plastic water bottle with his tongue (which isn’t a lot, but for a tongue it’s very much a lot).

His voice drops a whole octave and a half- mans is sounding almost like Corpse now. Maybe Markiplier? Anyways, if you’ve got a voice kink, you’re in luck

His dick changes too, it gets bigger, and he grows a lump at the base of it, between his shaft and balls. His balls get smaller until they’re barely noticable beneath what he calls him ‘knot.’

His eyes become sharper too, so don’t try and hide anything from him. 

Rut (MAJOR NSFW)

Everyone already knows Keigo has a breeding kink, but he hasn’t brought it up with you until now. It just kind of- happens. As he’s drilling into you, he suddenly starts blabbering about fucking a kid into you, and how hot you’d look all round with his kids. Might be a little weird for those of you who physically cannot give birth to children (my lovely AMABS and infertile AFABS). 

He can’t control it, so it’s especially weird if you don’t even want kids. If you can get pregnant, you’d better double check that you’re taking your birth control. And get to know some good clinics just in case.

However, if you do want kids, if you want to start a biological family woth Keigo, fuck. You will not be able to handle his happiness and horniness in that moment when you beg him to get you pregnant.

He is going to mark you up. Hickies, bruises, hand prints, bite marks, plus his scent. He needs everyone to know that you are his. He wants to claim you, make sure you know you belong to him. No one else can have you but him.

Halfway through your fuckfest, he starts making animalistic noises. He’s growling, roaring, whining, chirping, etc. This is around the time when he stops thinking about you, so he’ll really rough you up during this phase.

This man was a virgin before you, so this is also the first rut he’s ever going to have with another person, so he’ll hold himself back a lot. He needs you to reassure him at every step, tell him how good you feel, how you want him to fuck you, how not only are you okay with him going all out, you want him too.

Did he just cum? You think you’re finished? HA! No way in fucking hell is he finished after one, two, five, ten... so many rounds. He just keeps going and going and going and how the fuck is he still hard? He cums so fucking quickly, so much, and then keeps going.

When he finally does go soft, his whole personality changes. it’s like he didn’t just fuck you stupid. He immediately goes into ‘protect’ mode, which includes cuddles, him spoon-feeding you, petting you like a dog, and singing to you.

He puts the nest near a window so he can keep an eye out for possible threats. Just like “gotta keep mate safe. Is that the mailman? NO FUCK NO GET OUT OF HEREEEE!” 

One moment, he’s fucking you, and the next he’s leaning halfway out the window, screaming at some poor dude walking his dog. Remember, he’s still naked. You learned your lesson after that and kept the windows locked, and warned the neighbors to stay out of sight of the window, at least for the time being.

You’re going to feel very dirty, because he does not want you cleaning off the sweat, cum, and tears from your body. He likes that you smell like him, and you washing it off makes him feel rejected. 

He’s going to break a lot of things, so move pictures and vases into another room and lock the fuck out of that room. Or else he will break all of it.

He thinks any clothes you’re wearing are mocking him, so wear clothes you hate when his rut starts, then get used to being naked for a couple days. 

Oh yeah, his whole rut lasts one to five days. He’s fucking you for about three days on average.

He fucks you until you faint, and then keeps going until he’s out of ‘fuck’ mode and into ‘protect’ mode. A few times, he fucked you unconscious in the middle of the afternoon and then kept fucking you until the sun rose. 

Yeah, he’s got that much energy.

Don’t worry, during the whole time, he lets out pheromones with a strong vanilla-chocolaty scent that keeps your body and mind relaxed. 

There’ve been times when he’s just fucking into you and your water bottle is just out of reach.

During his rut, he has no shame. Let’s hope your walls are soundproofed, or else your neighbors will all know how he fucks you. 

He will not restrain you or hurt you in any way during his rut. So no degredation, no collars or chains, the only thing keeping you in the nest is his weight on top of you.

He gets upset if you try to touch yourself, things it’s you trying to tell him that he’s not satisfying you enough. 

He wants you to cum as many times as him, which is difficult because of his increased sensitivity, so he’s using every skill he knows to get you cumming again and again and again.

Most of the time, he’s going hard, rough, and spilling absolute filth from his cock and mouth, but in the last few hours of his rut, he suddenly gets emotional.

He’s rocking up against you, holding you close to his body and blabbering about you

How much he loves you

How good you make him feel

How he wouldn’t want anyone else by his side for his rut

How you’re his mate for life

How he’ll protect you and keep you safe.

Please be gentle with him, he’s very vulnerable near the end of his rut, and he’ll cry very easily.

When he’s nearing his last load, he makes out with you sloppily, trying to talk as he shoves his tongue down your throat.

He finishes off by  pushing his knot all the way inside you, and stays there for an hour.

This is the softest moment, and he’s covering your body in kisses. 

His knot pushes these small eggs inside you, and you have the lovely job of pushing them all out the next day. 

Post Rut

When his knot deflates, he finally pulls out and starts cleaning you off. 

He’ll carry you around and finally gives you a bath, constantly making sure you’re okay.

He’ll give you lots of massages and he’ll cook for you. He’s constantly thanking you for helping him, telling you he didn’t deserve it.

Just kiss him on the cheek, tell him you had fun, and that you love him so very very much.

He needs the most reassurance now than ever before.

He’s also very tired, so you’ll be taking care of each other.

Then his ‘post-rut’ resets, and he sleeps for hours.

Then he gets super hungry, and the two of you make huge meals and just kinda binge eat for a day or two.

Then his physical changes go back to normal, and you have a happy lil bird boy who simps for you so hard

[impalementation]

spike, angel, buffy & romanticism: interlude [1/2]

part 1: “When you kiss me I want to die”: Angel and the high school seasons

part 2: “Love isn’t brains, children”: Enter Spike as the id

part 3: “Something effulgent”: Season five and the construction of Spike the romantic

part 4: “But I can’t fool myself. Or Spike, for some reason.”: Buffy and Spike as a blended self

part 5: “Everything used to be so clear”: Season six and the agony of the real

* 

“This is real, here”: On the word “real”

Consider two of the show’s most recurring motifs: the word “real”, and the dual imagery of fire and water. I see these motifs mentioned most often in the context of the Spike and Buffy arc, and they are indeed crucial to it, and I’ll eventually get to the how’s and why’s of that. But that said, they are not motifs exclusive to that arc. In fact, in order to explain what fire, water and “real” mean in the context of Buffy and Spike’s characters and relationship--and by extension, how they connect to romanticism--it’s also necessary to explore the show’s whole symbolic infrastructure around them. So that’s what we’re going to do. 

I call this section an interlude because it’s more of a clipshow than a standard argument. I’m hoping that these examples will provide context for the analysis in the final section, but while I think this section is worth reading, it’s also possible to skip to the next one (when it ends up getting posted). Some of these examples have already been discussed, some haven’t. Some I’ve almost definitely forgotten. But I’ve done my best to be as comprehensive as possible.

* 

First, “real.”

In the first four seasons, I don’t know that the exact word “real” is used in a directed enough way that it could quite yet be called a motif. But several patterns in how the concept of realness is used do emerge, and will inform the last three seasons, when “real” becomes an unambiguous motif. 

First there’s the idea of a person’s “real” self. In “Angel” Darla talks about Angel suppressing his “real” nature, or in “Out of Mind, Out of Sight” Cordelia talks about people not “really” knowing her, in a parallel of the way that people don’t “really” know Buffy. In “Dead Man’s Party” Buffy confronts her mother for throwing her out, saying: “You found out who I really was, and you couldn't deal.” Multiple times in season three, Faith claims that the “reality” of people is selfishness and deception. In “Beauty and the Beasts” she says: “It's not cynical. I mean, it's realistic. Every guy from...Manimal down to Mr. I-Love-The-English-Patient has a beast in him. And I don't care how sensitive they act.” And in “Consequences” she says: “It doesn't matter what kind of vibe you get off a person. 'Cause nine times out of ten, the face they're showing you is not the real one.” It cannot be emphasized enough that one of the big Buffy-specific pieces of vampire lore is that vampires have grotesque hidden faces. It’s clearly an important metaphor to the show, one that’s echoed in its many two-faced characters, whether that’s Malcolm, Ms. French and Angel in season one, or Giles, Oz, Ford, Jenny, Ted, and Angelus in season two. Or the demons who get their faces pulled off in “Anne” and “Living Conditions.” Or the abusive boyfriend in “Beauty and the Beasts.” Or Faith, who goes bad. Or the Mayor, who acts normal in public but has an agenda underneath. Each time, there’s a question of which face is someone’s “real” one, or how an alternate face fits in with who the character “really” is. 

In addition, the first four seasons feature many plots in which a character has their perceptions altered or becomes some false version of themself. First there’s the (again) Buffy-specific vampire lore that when someone becomes a vampire, something about their self is lost, nebulously called the “soul.” In “Witch” a mom steals her daughter’s identity, in “The Pack” Xander becomes a hyena, in “Nightmares” Buffy becomes a vampire, and in “Halloween” the characters become their costumes. In “Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered” all the women think they’re in love with Xander. In “I Only Have Eyes For You” ghosts hijack people’s bodies. In season three, we get alter-egos like Buffy as Anne in “Anne”, Faith as a doppelgänger figure, the parents as kids in “Band Candy” or vampire Willow and the other Wishverse characters. Season four in particular is brimming with identity confusion, alteration, and theft. Buffy feels like she isn’t herself in “The Freshmen”, gets her soul sucked in “Living Conditions”, and becomes a cave person in “Beer Bad.” In “Wild at Heart” Oz’s werewolf side overcomes his human side. In “The Initiative” we find out that Riley has a secret identity just like Buffy, and that Spike has had a chunk of his identity stolen by being chipped. In “Something Blue” a spell makes Buffy and Spike think they’re in love. In “Hush” the villains steal everyone’s voices. In “Doomed” Spike is forced to abandon his bad-guy costume and wear Xander’s clothes instead. He also attempts to hide his identity from Riley just like Buffy did. In “A New Man” Giles gets turned into a monster, and tries to tell himself that his monstrous instincts aren’t who he really is. In the Faith two-parter, Faith literally steals Buffy’s body and life.* In “Superstar” it’s Jonathan’s turn to steal Buffy’s identity, in addition to magicking everyone’s minds into seeing him differently. In “Where the Wild Things Are” characters are once again possessed. In “New Moon Rising” Willow acknowledges her feelings for Tara, no longer suppressing that part of her identity. Finally, the Initiative arc as a whole features villains that want to scientifically alter people and demons without their consent, reprogramming personalities and grafting pieces of identity together. Also in general, the characters find themselves at a loss throughout the season identity-wise, unsure of who they want to be. The fact that season four finishes on a character-piece episode highlights the centrality of identity to the season’s themes. It ends with the First Slayer informing Buffy that her identity remains not fully known: “You think you know what’s to come...what you are. You haven’t even begun.”

*(As an aside, I find it interesting that in “A New Man” Buffy and Spike are the only ones who are able to recognize Giles despite his transformation. Also that in “Who Are You?” Tara can recognize Buffy being wrong and that in that episode and “New Moon Rising” Faith and Spike can recognize Willow’s sexuality. Buffy and Spike navigate humanity and monstrousness in such a way that it fits that they’d be able to recognize Giles through his monstrous exterior. While Faith and Spike’s connections to repressed desire makes it understandable that they’d recognize Willow’s. Tara’s connection to Willow’s “true” self also makes it understandable that she’d recognize Buffy’s. In any case, these examples reflect ideas around recognition being an important element of navigating split identity.)

Second, there’s the idea of being a “real” person, often contrasted with the idea of being a “thing.” “Out of Mind, Out of Sight” features a character that is so ignored she becomes invisible, and emphasizes Angel’s lack of reflection, and the way that this makes him less real (“Looking in the mirror every day and seeing nothing there...it’s an overrated pleasure.”). In “Prophecy Girl”, when Xander is trying to get Angel to help him, he tells him that Buffy thinks that he’s a “real person”--in contrast to the nothingness of vampirism and Angel’s personal disengagement from the world. In “Halloween” Buffy thinks she needs to be a fake version of herself to appeal to Angel, and says that she “just wanted to be a real girl for once.” On the other hand, when Kendra shows up, Buffy tries to claim that she and not Kendra is the “real” Slayer. In “Lie to Me”, Drusilla describes herself as “not a person”, while by contrast in “The Dark Age” Buffy tells Giles: “I'm so used to you being a grownup, and then I find out that you're a person.” In “Ted”, Ted mocks Buffy by saying that she can’t slay him because he’s “real”, and Buffy is devastated when she thinks she’s killed him, saying: “He was a person, and I killed him.” In “Phases” she’s disgusted by the werewolf hunter: “It doesn't bother you that a werewolf is a person twenty-eight days out of the month?” She’ll express similar disgust towards Riley’s dismissal of Oz’s personhood in “New Moon Rising” and general “bigotry” towards the supernatural. In “Killed By Death” Buffy describes herself as a “real hero” who fights “real monsters.” In “Becoming, Part 1”, Drusilla cries that she does not want to be an “evil thing”, while Whistler tries to persuade Angel to join the cause by telling him: “You can become an even more useless rodent than you already are, or you can become someone. A person. Someone to be counted.” But he also warns Angel that the more he lives in the world, the more apart from it he’ll realize he “really” is. In “Anne” the hell dimension demons try to break down people’s selfhood until they think they’re “no one.” In “Homecoming”, like in “Halloween”, Buffy is anxious about how disconnected she is from being a real girl. She misses her yearbook picture, the record of her personhood. When her teacher doesn’t remember her, she says: “I’m like a non-person. Am I invisible?” She wants to be Homecoming queen so that she can say: “I was there. I went to high school, I had friends, and...for one moment, I got to live in the world.” In “Lovers Walk”, Spike describes himself as “nothing” without Dru. In “Amends”, Angels asks if he’s “a thing worth saving.” In the classroom discussion of Othello in “Earshot”, Buffy describes Iago as “not really a person. He's uh, the dark half of Othello himself,” describing Faith by proxy. This aspect of Faith will climax in “Who Are You?” when she describes herself as “nothing” as she pummels Buffy in lieu of herself.

Next, there’s the idea of “real” love. In “Reptile Boy”, Angel warns Buffy that their attraction “isn't some fairy tale.” In “Innocence” Angel mocks Buffy by claiming that he had to pretend to love her. In the same episode, Oz turns down Willow’s advance because he thinks she just wants to make Xander jealous. In “Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered” women try to insist that what they feel for Xander is real (“What we have is real”), and that they finally “really see” him. Meanwhile Xander turns Buffy down, saying “this isn’t real to you.” (Also: Drusilla tells Angel she’s “finally found a real man” in Xander.) In “Homecoming” Cordelia hopes to find out “if it’s real” between her and Xander. When Angel breaks up with Buffy in “The Prom” he says that Buffy needs a “real relationship, instead of this-this freak show.” In “The Harsh Light of Day” the debate about whether the Gem is “real” is arguably also about whether people’s romantic intentions are real. In “Something Blue” Buffy muses that “part of [her] believes that real love and passion have to go hand in hand with pain and fighting.” Xander says that “Angel's an okay guy” unless “you give him even one second of pure, real pleasure.” The many instances of sexual and romantic deception and coercion are also relevant to this subject. You have things like the predatory Ms. French in “Teacher’s Pet”, the boys building a girlfriend in “Some Assembly Required”, Parker hiding his intentions in “The Harsh Light of Day”, Faith sleeping with Riley in Buffy’s body, or the various attempted love spells. For all the show’s flaws when it came to acknowledging how nonconsensual some of these moments were, it’s also clear that they were not meant to be seen positively. Rather, they all seem to have been treated as unreal perversions of love.

Finally, there’s the idea of the “real world.” The show alters reality multiple times in the first four seasons: “Nightmares”, “The Wish”, “Fear, Itself”, “Superstar.” It also sets up a contrast between the supernatural world and the people aware of it, and the “regular” world that lives in ignorance (“Everything you've ever dreaded was under your bed, but told yourself couldn't be by the light of day. They're all real!”). Both worlds are treated as more real in different ways. The supernatural world is “real” in the sense of being the unacknowledged unknown, while the regular world is “real” in the sense of the everyday. If you went a bit more meta, you might say that the supernatural is the realm of metaphor, while the regular world is the things the metaphors refer to. Symbol versus referent. Or to make things Jungian, the unconscious versus the conscious. There’s also the idea of the “real world” as the world after high school (“I mean, when in the real world am I ever gonna need chemistry or history or math or the English language?”). In “Prophecy Girl” Giles tries to go fight the Master on Buffy’s behalf, saying: “I-I've waded around in these old books for so long, I've forgotten what the real world is like. I-it's time I found out.” Similarly in season four, a colonel disparages the Scoobies as a “band of freaks” and warns Riley: “They're anarchists, Finn. Too backwards for the real world.” 

All of these usages of realness are ultimately intertwined. In “Halloween”, for example, Drusilla asks Spike “Do you love my insides? The parts you can’t see?”--a question that connects the episode’s ideas around inner and outer identity to the realness of love. In order to love, both people need to know who they are, and who they’re loving, and part of knowing who one is is also knowing the world and having a relationship to it. In order to grow up, one must be able to navigate reality in all its forms: literal and metaphorical, conscious and unconscious, personal and societal. 

* 

Now let’s get into “real” as it manifests in the last three seasons. 

“Buffy vs Dracula” opens the season with Dracula using the same lines the First Slayer used in “Restless”: “You think you know...what you are. What's to come. You haven't even begun.” In both cases, it’s a figure of Buffy’s violent, isolationist side saying that it knows Buffy’s identity. Dracula adds a sexual overtone to it too. In other words, the season opens with the idea of Buffy reckoning with the shadow side of her Self, and connects her shadow to a sexualized vampire figure, as well as to romantic myth. “Real Me” starts the “real” motif, though. Dawn says that nobody knows the “real” her, which takes on significance when you think of Dawn as Buffy’s girl or human side. She’s dismissive of Buffy’s ability to do “backflips and stuff” since it’s not “a crucial job skill in the real world.” Meanwhile Harmony, who in the context of the episode one could read as a figure of Buffy’s vampire or shadow side, tries to tell Spike that “I’ve found the real me...and I like her.” In other words, both Buffy’s human and vampiric halves express a desire for realness. Moreover, Buffy has to rescue her girl half from her vampire half--but who notably, “sucks” at being bad. “The Replacement” reinforces these ideas around identity, reality and duality. Xander gets split in two by a device intended to split Buffy into her human and Slayer halves, and to kill her by killing her weak, human half. When Riley asks which Xander is “the real one” though, Giles replies that: “They're both real. They're both Xander. Neither one of them is evil. There's nothing in either of them that our Xander doesn't already possess.” The implication being that the same ultimately goes for Buffy. (Tellingly in “Intervention”, when Xander tries to say that Buffy and the bot are “both Buffy”, Buffy instantly disagrees. Buffy’s human and Slayer halves may both be Buffy, but the robot is not. The robot is the fakeness that Buffy, Spike and others are tempted by.). Keep all this context in mind for Spike’s arc, and how it ultimately connects to Buffy’s. In the season that Spike becomes both a love interest and the more ongoing avatar of Buffy’s shadow side, the show paints him--like Harmony in “Real Me”--as a vampire who is fairly incompetent at badness, and who increasingly expresses a desire for realness. Point being: season five establishes the idea of Buffy not only “reckoning” with her shadow, but reckoning with it in the aim of integrating it into her total (“real”) sense of herself. Bridging her human and Slayer, or “real” and romantic duality.

Meanwhile, Dawn’s (and the other characters’) ongoing anxiety over her realness can be read as Buffy’s anxiety over how human she really is. The word “real” shows up over and over in the context of Dawn. In “Blood Ties” Dawn despairs “Am I real? Am I anything?” Buffy says “[Dawn] probably feels like she can say or do anything right now. She's not real. We're not her family, we don't even know what she is.” Tara wonders “How can [Dawn] not be real?” to which Willow replies: “She’s real. She’s just, kinda...new.” Look at this conversation from “Listening to Fear”, and the usages of “thing”, “wrong”, and “real” in the context of both season six and the person/thing dichotomy established in earlier seasons:

DAWN: [Mom] called me a thing.


BUFFY: She loves you. Okay? She's not herself. I told you what the doctor said about the tumor.


DAWN: No, not just Mom. People. They keep saying weird stuff about me.


BUFFY: Are you talking about the man in the hospital?


DAWN: He called me a thing too. And there was another one. Weird guy outside the magic shop. He said I didn't belong. He said I wasn't real. Why does everybody keep doing that? What's wrong with me?


BUFFY: Nothing. It's not you. I think there's something that happens in people's brains when there's something wrong. It's- it's like a short-circuit...and it makes them feel like nothing's real except for them. That's all it is.

Also look at this conversation between Dawn and Ben in the context of other characters calling themselves “nothing.”

BEN: Is there anybody I can call? Your sister?


DAWN: I don't have a sister.


BEN: Oh. You two have a fight? It's okay, I know how that goes. I got a sister too. They can be a real pain sometimes. I tell you, there've been a lot of nights I wish she didn't exist either.


DAWN: It's not Buffy. It's me. I'm the one that doesn't exist. (sighs)


BEN: Look, I know it can feel that way sometimes, but when you're older-


DAWN: No, you don't understand. It's not real. None of this. (indicating her body) They made it.


BEN: Dawn-


DAWN: I'm nothing! I'm just a thing the monks made so Glory couldn't find me. I'm not real.

In other words, in a season in which Buffy is repeatedly afraid that being the Slayer is “turning [her] into stone”, her metaphorical humanity (or girlhood, or innocence) becomes afraid that it does not exist. 

It’s also notable that Dawn is introduced in the season in which “real” life things like cancer and death become a driving force of the emotional plot. Buffy becomes vulnerable via Dawn--ie, her humanity. In “Shadow”, the episode that reveals that Joyce has cancer, Glory attacks Buffy and mocks her by saying: “There! That feels more real, don’t you think?” It’s a line that at once echoes Buffy feeling like she’s been attacked by realness, as well as a line that treats Buffy’s fighting like a performance she’s failing to pull off (ie, she is failing at both real life and at romantic performance, shades of season six). After Joyce’s death, Buffy says that her “Mom was the strong one in real life.” When Buffy has to drop out of school, Xander tells her “welcome to the real world”--which Ben will echo when he tries to cripple Glory with his humanity: “Welcome to the world.” And when Dawn stops keeping up with her schoolwork, Buffy tries to make her understand that “this is for real.” The crisis of the season involves the threat of “the walls separating realities” crumbling and bleeding together, echoing the way that the line between real, non-metaphorical life, and Buffy’s supernatural life--or put another way, between adulthood and childhood (or to connect to the Jungian reading, between the conscious and unconscious)--has begun to collapse.

“Real” of course, also shows up repeatedly in the context of love. When Riley confesses that he’s been seeing vampire prostitutes, he says that he knows what they offered “wasn’t real”, but that their hunger for him was. And the Initiative offers him his job back, saying it’s “the real deal”--in contrast to how Riley perceives Buffy’s feelings for him. Ie, not the real deal. Riley also threatens Spike with the language of realness, attacking him with a fake stake (“Looks real, doesn’t it?”), but promising to “do this for real” and “kill you for real” if he makes a move on Buffy*. “I Was Made to Love You” centers on a fake girlfriend. Anya wonders “Why would anyone do that if they could have a real live person?” to which Willow replies, “Maybe he couldn't. Find a real person.”
 Outside of romantic love, the season also addresses the idea of real familial love and bonds. In “Intervention” Buffy tries to tell Dawn she loves her: “I love you. I really love you.” Giles calls Buffy Dawn’s “real family” while Glory tries to tell Dawn that her hell dimension is Dawn’s “real home.” There’s a repeated question of whether Dawn is “really” Buffy’s sister, because how could Buffy love someone who isn’t?

*(An interesting interaction if you read Riley as Buffy’s normativity and Spike as Buffy’s shadow. Buffy’s normativity is suspicious of her shadow and suggests that realness would destroy it. But it’s actually Buffy’s normativity--Riley--that falls apart under the pressures of both realism--Joyce’s illness--and shadowy romanticism--Riley going to vampires. Buffy might want a “stable” love, but her still-unresolved inner conflict between realism and romanticism makes this impossible. Or at least, that’s one way one could interpret things.)

And then there’s Spike. In “Crush”, Spike parallels Buffy’s behavior in “Halloween” when he dresses up like Riley--ie a real or normal man--to appeal to Buffy. Just like Buffy dressed up as a cliche hyperfeminine woman to appeal to Angel. Spike insists that what he and Buffy have is “not pretty but it’s real” and that “this is real, here”, while Xander says that Spike isn’t to be taken seriously because what he feels is “not real”. The climax of the episode involves Spike attempting to prove the reality of his feelings in the face of Buffy’s claims that what he feels is “not love.” Then in “Intervention” Spike of course orders up a fake Buffy. At first he says that “some say [a bot] is better than the real thing”, but at the end Buffy says, disappointed, that the bot “wasn’t even real.” However, his sacrifice for Dawn “was real.” In general, it’s notable how often fakeouts are a feature of the Spike and Buffy arc, whether that’s the bespelled love in “Something Blue”, Faith teasing Spike in “Who Are You?”, the dream in “Out of My Mind”, Buffy pretending to be the bot in “Intervention” or all of the many cases in which a character asks if Spike is Buffy’s boyfriend. The idea of them having feelings for each other (and in particular, Buffy having feelings for Spike) is treated as a joke, a tease, and then eventually a genuine question. Buffy and Spike could never happen in the real world...or could it?

Notice how over and over in season five, it’s Spike and Dawn that have their realness questioned in different ways. In Dawn’s case, her “realness” is precarious in the sense that it’s unclear whether she should be treated (loved) like a real person, given her mystical origins. But also in the sense that she is physically vulnerable and could easily die. Meanwhile Spike’s realness is uncertain in the sense that it’s unclear whether or not he can feel or behave like a “real” person, given his soulless status. In other words, just like Buffy with her Slayerness, the idea that either Spike or Dawn might not be “real” is connected to the fact that they are supernatural. Moreover, Dawn and Spike are both repeatedly portrayed as outsiders because of their precarious realness. Dawn is excluded from information, and is unsure whether Buffy and Joyce will accept her. Spike too is excluded from information, and unsure whether Buffy will accept him into her life. Multiple times, Spike and Dawn have conversations alone together outside of Buffy’s house (“Blood Ties”, “Crush”, “Forever”, “Tough Love”, etc), aligning them as companions in outsiderness. Taken together, Spike and Dawn reflect the two sides of Buffy’s dual nature, and her struggle to see them both as truly part of her. In turn, it’s significant that Buffy ends up inviting both into her life. Dawn earlier in the season, and Spike in “The Gift.” Both sides of Buffy’s nature prove themselves willing to sacrifice themselves for the greater good.*

*(An arc, incidentally, that is foreshadowed early on by Tara’s story in “Family”. Tara is torn between her--apparent--human and demonic halves and considers herself an outsider, despite her desire to help. But she is eventually welcomed into Buffy’s circle, in a scene that Dawn and Spike are both present for and actively participate in.)

In general, the world “real” just infuses season five, with more examples than I can even address. Things like Tara inventing constellations because “the real ones never made sense to [her]”, or Anya wanting to play the game of Life with “real money”, or Buffy saying that going to a “real hospital” in “Fool For Love” would get her “real mom, real freaked out.” It’s a word that’s always popping up like a low-level anxiety. Realness is coming, and the characters cannot stop it.

In a fulfillment of that prophecy, in season six Buffy’s (and other characters’) anxiety over her realness is no longer metaphorically externalized in characters like Angel, Dawn or Faith, but becomes intensely located within herself, and mirrored in Spike. Gone are the scenes in which Buffy easily reassures Dawn that she is real and not a thing. Instead, she begins to apply words like “thing”, “nothing”, and “real” directly to herself, or to Spike as thinly-veiled projection. The realness of Buffy becomes a genuinely pressing question, compared to previous seasons when it was never really in doubt. So the season opens with the Buffybot playing Buffy’s role. The characters lament that “the only really real Buffy is really Buffy,” which the Buffybot chirpily parrots as a knock-knock joke (a type of joke, notably, about identity), devoid of the solemnity of the original sentiment: “'If we want her to be exactly she'll never be exactly I know the only really real Buffy is really Buffy and she's gone' who?” When Buffy does come back, Dawn and other characters repeatedly ask if it’s “really” her and if she’s “really” there. In “Life Serial”, Buffy attends a seminar about the “Social Construction of Reality” (the word “Reality” is written on the blackboard), that introduces the question of whether identity is something externally defined or individually created. She spends the episode having her perceptions messed with by the Trio, and trying to figure out who she is and wants to be. The Trio gloats that they’re “really supervillains now” because they got one up on Buffy. In “All the Way” there’s various talk of the costumes not actually being accurate to reality (“You’re not a real pirate!”, “If I see one more idiot that thinks witches are all hairy moles and rotted teeth”), a reminder of the idea of identity performance. Dawn is hurt because she thought the vampire “really liked [her].” He says that he does, and moves to bite her--a dynamic that foreshadows the simultaneous sincerity and violence of the Spike and Buffy dynamic. In “Once More, With Feeling” Buffy sings that “nothing here is real, nothing here is right” and that she “can’t even see / if this is really me.” Sweet sings to Dawn that he’ll “make it real, girl.” Spike observes that Buffy talks to him because “whisper in a dead man’s ear / it doesn’t make it real”, and says about one of Sweet’s puppets: “Someday he’ll be a real boy.” Repeatedly, Buffy describes her identity as a role she is trying to fulfill, rather than something she connects with. And of course before she and Spike kiss, Buffy sings that “this isn’t real / but I just wanna feel.” 

In “Tabula Rasa”, Spike tries to tell Buffy that “I know what kind of girl you really are” but fades out with a “...don’t I?” Anya wonders if Giles is leaving “for real this time?” After the characters lose their memories, Tara gets excited because “this is a magic shop, a real magic shop.” Similarly Buffy says: “Monsters are real. Did we know that?” (Remember Buffy telling the boy in “Killed By Death” about her being a “real hero” who fights “real monsters”). In “Wrecked” a stoned Willow dismisses Dawn’s fear of the demon chasing them: “Oh it’s okay, he’s not real.” To which Dawn says, scared: “Seems real! Very! Real!” In “Doublemeat Palace”, Anya says that Xander lectures her about “how a real human would behave.” In “Dead Things” Dawn says that Janice’s mom is going to “teach me how to make real tortillas”, in contrast to the lack of nourishment Buffy provides. Spike asks what Buffy’s friends would think of her if they knew who she “really” was. Dawn snaps that Buffy isn’t “really here.” Eventually, Buffy despairs that she “can’t feel anything real” while attacking Spike as a proxy for attacking herself. In “Older and Far Away”, Buffy tries to promise Dawn that they’ll “sit down and have a real dinner” (shades of those “real tortillas”). In “As You Were”, Sam is excited about “patrolling with the real, live Slayer”--a pointed phrase to apply to a Buffy who has repeatedly asserted that she is neither real nor alive. In “Hell’s Bells” Anya tries to stop Xander from being persuaded by the vision of their future: “But it wa - it wasn't real. What he showed you, it wasn't real.” To which Xander replies: “I know it wasn't real. But it could be.” In “Normal Again”, the characters of the two competing realities each claim that the other world isn’t real (“No, none of that’s real, none of it. You’re in a mental institution.”). Dawn and Joyce, both figures of Buffy’s family, make the most appeals to Buffy, asserting their realness and the fakeness of the other world. Spike remarks: “So, she's having the wiggins, is she? Thinks none of us are real. Bloody self-centered, if you ask me.”

In “Entropy”, Anya gets annoyed that Xander readily agrees to the curses she can’t inflict on him: “Those are metaphor intestines! You're not in any real pain! What's wrong with me?” Spike insists that what he feels for Buffy is “real” to which she replies “I think it is. For you.” Spike muses that despite their unnatural existence, he and Anya are the “only ones who are really alive.” Multiple times, Buffy is accused of not knowing who Spike “really is.” In “Seeing Red”, Dawn asks if Spike “really” loves Buffy, and Spike admits to Clem that he and Buffy were “never together. Not really. She’d never lower herself that far.” Andrew explains that the Trio “can't Siegfried and Roy” the barrier protecting the orbs they’re after, “It's gotta be the real deal.” During their fight, Warren mocks Buffy: “What's the matter baby? You never fight a real man before?
” In “Villains”, Andrew cries that Warren was “just using” him and “never really loved--” (him), a farcical echo of Spike and Buffy. Jonathan chastises Andrew that “this is real life.” Warren postures that he needs “a real gang, you know, not a--not a couple of wannabes.
” Just before she kills him, Willow taunts Warren with one of his bullets: “Wanna know what a bullet feels like, Warren? A real one? It's not like in the comics.
” Anya warns a security guard regarding the danger Willow poses: “These things are real. They're dangerous. And they're coming.” In “Two to Go”, Buffy and Willow debate about what a Slayer “really” is. Finally in “Grave” Buffy tells Giles that for a long time after her resurrection she felt like she wasn’t “really here”, but that that feeling has gone away.

In other words, season six realizes the full threat of realness that season five began. It threatens the idea of Buffy being overwhelmed by her shadow, i.e. the mystical, violent half of her that seems antithetical to realness. The part of her that, like a vampire, she thinks cannot grow or change or feel. That cannot have real emotions or live in the real world. But as discussed in the previous post on season six, Buffy--and Spike, as a mirror of her--eventually accepts that realness, despite the pain of it. Buffy no longer wants to protect Dawn, her humanity, from the real world, she wants to show it to her. Meanwhile Spike, her shadow, proves itself capable of change after all, committing to reality by getting a soul. 

While it might seem that the way Spike and Dawn are used in the resolution of season six is an unnecessary rehash of the resolution of season five, in fact I think the way the two seasons deal with the idea of accepting the “real world” and “real identity” are quite different. Season five, to me, involves a passive kind of acceptance of reality. Repeatedly, we see characters helpless in the face of things they can’t control--love, death, pain, selfhood. It challenges characters to behave gracefully in the face of difficult, even impossible choices. If season five is a conclusion of something, it is perhaps a conclusion of the idea of “You have a choice. You don’t have a good choice, but you have a choice” that has defined the show from the beginning. Buffy finishes season five having accepted both her own nature and the unfair nature of the world, and this is what allows her to sacrifice herself and move on to the adult world. By contrast, season six demands that the characters take an active role in the creation of their reality and identity. And it is this demand that frightens them all so much, and tempts them to stagnate, regress, give up. Buffy no longer has authorities either to guide her or to struggle against, nor supernatural battles passively thrust upon her. She is alone with her own power, and must overcome her fear of using that power in the course of creating her own life. 

Season seven will then take this idea of having an active relationship to reality to another level, by introducing the idea not just of creating identity, but altering the world itself.

Season seven opens with Buffy teaching Dawn to fight, lecturing her with the lesson from the last season: “It's real. It's the only lesson, Dawn. It's always real.” Dawn will repeat the sentiment later in the episode to a disbelieving friend: “Lesson one: it’s always real.” When Spike appears in the basement Buffy asks “Are you real?” and he begins to laugh hysterically. In “Beneath You”, a girl vents to Anya: “God, my boyfriend's spineless, and he should just—you know, he should just be spineless for real.” To which Anya replies: “No spine. Got it. I can do that.” Trying to perform his soulless persona, Spike says to Buffy “You've had your turn, love. Leave the real violence to the demons, yeah?” In “Selfless” Anya asks Xander sadly: “What if I’m really nobody?” In “Him”, Buffy and Dawn fight about how “real” Dawn’s feelings for RJ really are:

DAWN: 
It isn't a crush. It's love. I love R.J.

BUFFY
: Again, since yesterday. Dawn, it's awfully fast.

DAWN: What? You're telling me I don't feel what I feel?

BUFFY: 
No, of course not. I believe that you think it's real. It seems real...to you.

DAWN
: You know what? Maybe I don't want advice from the Dysfunction Queen. You have no idea how I feel. You have no idea what real love is. Maybe if you did, you wouldn't make fun of me this way.

BUFFY: 
Dawn, I'm not making fun of you.

DAWN: 
Just go. Leave me alone.

Buffy uses the same language with Dawn that she used with Spike in “Entropy” (“I think it is. For you.”), but in a situation that echoes her quick feelings for Angel in season one. In “Conversations With Dead People” Holden realizes his and Buffy’s camaraderie will have to end in a fight to the death: “Wow, reality just shows up sometimes, doesn't it?” Later, Buffy muses to him about Spike: “And the joke is...he loved me. I mean, in his own sick, soulless way, he really did care for me. But I-I didn't want to be loved.” She tries to be real about herself, and Spike. In general, having accepted the necessity of realness by the end of season six, Buffy spends season seven trying to hold on to it, and integrate it with her life. Instead of trying to accept that she is real, Buffy knows in season seven that “it’s always real,” but struggles to know what the “real” thing is. She struggles to see through illusions and preconceptions, and tries to assert her understanding of reality. Notice how unlike in “Bewitched, etc” in season two, when Buffy is caught up in Xander’s love spell, Buffy in “Him” is able to tell Dawn that “No guy is worth your life--not ever” even without the spell being broken. She is no longer consumed by passions and illusions the way she was as a teenager, but can see through a spell.

To that end, throughout season seven, the First becomes a not-real version of various dead people. Moreover, the fact that the First cannot be touched suggests the idea of the search for the real in the face of the illusory. What is the tangible thing? In “Sleeper” Willow and Buffy talk about these aspects of the First, using the language of deception, illusion, and reality:

WILLOW: Buffy, this thing knows us. It made us think that we were talking to people we knew. Mine said it came with a message from Tara. But Dawn actually saw your Mother. This thing, it had me for a while. I mean, before it started letting loose with the pulse-pounding terror. But before that, the lies were very convincing. It just seems real.

BUFFY
: Lies...

WILLOW: 
I mean maybe, maybe to confuse us, to mess us up. Or maybe just to be cool.

BUFFY
: Vampire I killed last night told me Spike sired him. Two nights ago.

WILLOW: 
Well, that's impossible, right? So maybe it was another one. A fake-out. You got one too. It wasn't a real vamp.

BUFFY: 
It dusted real enough.

But most significantly, the only “living” characters the First becomes are Spike and Buffy. So Buffy’s struggle to see through preconceptions also arguably goes for her perceptions of herself--and Spike, as usual, as a mirror of her. In “Sleeper” the First appears to Spike as both Spike and Buffy at different points, and forces Spike to behave as a false version of himself. In “Never Leave Me” Spike says that Buffy has never met “the real me.” Just before raising an ubervamp the First asks him: “Now, Spike, wanna see what a real vampire looks like?” As Buffy, the First tells Spike to “be realistic” about Buffy’s belief in him: “I don’t even believe in myself.” (The First’s insistence that Spike needs to move on also echoes Buffy’s response to Spike in “Entropy” when he told her his feelings were real.). When Buffy comes to rescue Spike, he at first insists that she is “just a figment”, but realizes it’s the real Buffy when he touches her. His realization parallels his realization in “Intervention” that the Buffy kissing him is Buffy, and his realization that the Buffy descending the stairs in “After Life” is not the bot either.

To continue the clip show: In “Showtime”, Buffy tries to tell the First appearing as her mother: “You’re not real.” She asks Giles if he’ll “ever show up for a real visit.” In the guise of one of the Potentials, the First tries to make the others feel unprepared by saying it’s “never even seen a real vampire, much less slayed one.” The girls wonder how Buffy can protect them when she couldn’t defeat an ubervamp, “and you’re the real slayer.” In “Potential”, Amanda asks Dawn about the vampire that attacked them, “Is it real? Was it really a vampire? I bet you think I’m crazy,” but Dawn believes her. After the other Potentials successfully fight off a group of vampires, Rona is excited: “It was like we knew what we were doing. For real.” When Willow transforms into Warren in “The Killer In Me”, Andrew touches her face in awe. “It’s so real,” he says, to which she replies: “I’m all too aware.” In “First Date” Buffy describes Wood as “too charming to be real.” In “Get it Done”, just before finding Chloe’s body, Buffy jokes with Dawn about whether she has any “real homework.” When transported to the Shadowmen world, Buffy tries to tell herself “I'm not really here at all. None of this is actually happening. This is like a play. Like some shadow-play. Some non-reality re-enactment hologramy--” whereupon one of the men knocks her over (Lesson one: it’s always real). In “Storyteller” Buffy notes that “here, in this school, over the hellmouth”, the way things feel “kind of starts being that way for real.” She tries to get Andrew to get real and “stop telling stories.” 

In “Dirty Girls” Caleb defines Buffy by her “Strength. And the loneliness that comes with real strength.” In “Empty Places” Spike is skeptical of the mission that Giles wants to send him on, but Giles assures him that it is “bonafide, with real ramifications.” During the climactic confrontation between Buffy and the others, Faith expresses skepticism about Buffy’s plan. “
Listen, we're fighters, all of us, but you gotta give me something to fight, something real, not—” she says, to which Giles adds, “Windmills.” In “Touched”, in the aftermath of the First appearing as the Mayor to Faith, Wood says to her: “Listen, nobody wants to be alone, Faith. We all want someone who cares, to be touched that way. I mean, the First deals in figments, but that wanting is real.” Spike confirms the reality that Buffy couldn’t confirm in “Empty Places”, that something is at the vineyard. And more importantly, confirms the reality of how he sees her, and the reality of his love by extension: “I’ve seen the best and the worst of you, and I understand with perfect clarity exactly what you are.” In “End of Days” the Guardian says she’s “as real as” Buffy is. In “Chosen” the First wears Buffy’s face. It taunts her by saying that none of the Potentials (“those girlies”) “will ever know real power unless” Buffy is dead. Which of course, Buffy ends up proving wrong. And finally, as the amulet begins to work its magic, Spike says, with awe: “My soul...it’s really there.” 

Over and over season seven uses phrases like “real vampire” and “real strength.” Over and over, it asks if people are real. It asks if stories and propositions and feelings are real. To change the world, one must be able to see the world for what it is, to see what needs changing. One must be able to see power as something that can be creative, not just destructive. In total, Buffy finishes the season having rejected the false image of the First (“I want you to get out of my face”), having accepted the reality of her shadow and found strength in trusting it (Spike, Faith), having discovered that “real” power is about connection and generosity rather than isolation, having experienced romantic love that is based on real--both positive and negative--understanding, and smiling at the prospect of facing the real world. 

The next half of this post will discuss the parallel evolution of the show’s symbolic use of fire. If “real” is about the “real” half of the realism/romanticism duality, then fire is about the romantic half.

[asahipleaseloveme]

Hello, and congratulations on 200 followers! If it's not too much trouble, could I take part in the event please?

Character: Daichi

Color: Blue

Lyric: Even if you cannot hear my voice, I'll be right beside you dear (Run by Snow Patrol)

Season: Fall

Ideal Date: cooking dinner together, and slow dancing in the living room after eating.

Thank you very much if you find time to take this request, and congratulations again!

Hi hi!! I apologize for taking so long. I hope you're doing well! Thanks for sending something in!!

The week couldn’t end fast enough. Work had been unnecessarily stressful, and all you wanted to do was to go home and relax. As soon as your eight hours were up, you booked it out of there as fast as you could; you had already given them enough of your time for the week. 

The plan was to take a hot shower and then catch up on some of your favorite shows. But before you even put your key in the lock, you could hear the faint sound of music. Walking through the door, you could see that your original plan was not going to happen. The living room was not in the same state as earlier. The couch and the tables were pushed up against the wall and the carpet was rolled up. You quirked an eyebrow as you called out to your partner. 

“Daichi?” 

The music was turned off and Daichi walked out of the kitchen wearing a blue apron that read ‘Hot Contents: Handle with Caution’.

“______! You’re home sooner than I expected. Go get changed and come back in here, I’ll tell you what I’ve got planned for the evening,” he smiled. 

You gave a light chortle and shook your head. He was always up to something. 

You returned a few moments later in some sweatpants and one of his shirts that you borrowed so long ago that it could now officially be claimed as your own. Daichi was quick to meet you with a hug and a forehead kiss.

“You’re so adorable!”

“Stop that,” you laughed as you broke away from his arms. 

“I’ve been waiting all day for you to get home. I thought we could make dinner together tonight. I went to the store and got all of the ingredients to make your favorite meal!”

You smiled up at him, but your attention quickly went to a pot on the stove where the water was threatening to boil over. You rushed over and began stirring the contents in the pot which caused the foam to subside. Daichi wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder. 

“We definitely work better as a team in the kitchen.”

After a few mishaps, several bouts of laughter, and many stolen kisses later, dinner was finally ready. Daichi set the table as you added the finishing touches.

The dinner was delicious and you were glad that Daichi had roped you into helping him. But he wasn’t finished with his antics just yet. 

“If you clear the dishes, I have one more thing I need to do,” he smiled sweetly. You were not immune to his charm, but you made sure your eye roll was over the top while saying “I guess” in the most sarcastic tone you could muster.

“But don’t think you can get out of helping with these dishes, Sawamura!” you called out after him. 

A quick tidy of the table and setting all of the dirty dishes in the sink was all you were able to accomplish before Daichi was back by your side, pulling you into the living room. He had opened the windows so the cool autumn breeze could roll in. Several candles were lit and scattered about on the tables near the walls. 

“I thought we could continue the night with some dancing. You’ve been very busy with work, and we haven’t had a whole lot of time for just us. So, here we are,” he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Here we are,” you repeated back as you took his hand into yours. He smiled and wrapped you up in a hug. He turned on the music and the two of you swayed and spun around the empty living room. Sometimes, Daichi would sing along. And sometimes, he whispered the lyrics so delicately in your ear. 

“Even if you cannot hear my voice, I’ll be right beside you dear,” he whispered along with the song as it ended. He topped it off with a kiss to the top of your head. 

“I hope you always remember that, ______. I love you very much.”

“I love you, Daichi. Thank you for this wonderful evening. It’s everything I could ever ask for,” you cupped his face and gave the tip of his nose a kiss. 

He repeated the gesture, and soon enough you were enveloped in his arms once more. And in his arms was a place you were sure you would never get tired of.

[variousqueerthings]

Daniel LaRusso: A Queer Feminine Fairytale Analysis Part Two of Three

Part 1

Part 3

6. Sexual Awakenings part 1: Love, Obsession, & Size Differences

[Insert that post talking about the creators making sure that Daniel’s antagonists were much bigger than him so that the audience would sympathise, spawning 10000 size kink fics]

I’m sure this won’t awaken anything in Daniel

Corporate wants you to find the difference between these two pictures

The hallmark of feminine fairytales tends to be growing into womanhood, with all those symbolic sexual under/overtones, searching for a prince, encountering monsters (or evil stepmothers), on the surface tending to be quite passive/reactive, but actually being about young girls and women getting out of their environment and choosing to tussle with those deep, dark desires – monsters. They’ve got to function within the limitations of power that they have – escaping an abusive situation through marriage, chasing forbidden desires under the guise of duress, asking questions about sexuality through things like symbolic plucking (flowers) or consumption (fruit) or pricking (needles), etc.

Daniel isn’t striking out to find his fortune or win a girl or a kingdom Like A Man, he’s not a threat to Silver, who – like Jareth in Labyrinth – is in control for almost the whole of the narrative, he’s not actually able to do much more than react until he makes the decision to stop training, and even then he’s immediately ganged up on and assaulted, needing to be saved by Miyagi while he stands and watches, bloodied and bruised. 

Daniel’s journey in the third movie is to be forced into an impossible situation, seduced by Silver, and then prove that whatever violence Silver did to him isn’t enough to destroy him. It is incredibly similar to Sarah’s in Labyrinth, who by the end declares: “you have no power over me,” and that’s her winning moment. Not strength, not wits, not a direct fight, (although Daniel does fight Barnes and gets beat up again – only winning in in the end by taking him by surprise, unlike in TKK1 or TKK2 where you could argue that he proves himself to be a capable physical opponent to Johnny and Chozen), but by declaring that whatever power was held over her is now void.

Daniel’s narrative isn’t satisfying in the same way, because the dynamic of Silver and Daniel only accidentally emulates this - it’s not an intention on the side of the film-makers.

When Miyagi tells Daniel that he has strong roots, when he tells him not to lose to fear and Daniel wins over Barnes (in an almost fairytale-esque set of events), on paper he’s defeated whatever hold Terry Silver has over him. In the film itself though, Daniel never defeats Silver (which will likely be confirmed once he returns in Season Four). Daniel cannot simply say “you have no power over me,” and see Silver shattered into glass shards. 

The film is a contradiction: It wants to be a masculine sports film, but it exists in the same realm as Goblin Kings seducing young girls with the promise of: “Just fear me, love me, do as I say, and I will be your slave.” Unlike Sarah, Daniel doesn’t claim the power that’s been promised to him on his own terms. His subtextually sexual awakening is so corrupted that all he can do is pretend it never happened.

Still, Daniel proves in the film that his strength is not in his fists. It’s in his praying to the bonsai tree that’s healed despite a violent boy brutally tearing it in two.

These looks on Daniel and Silver though?

So why does Silver become obsessed with him? What’s up with all those red outfits (that he doesn’t wear in Cobra Kai)? What does the temptation reveal about Daniel? How does it recontextualise TKK1 and TKK2? Is Daniel bisexual? (yes).

Ah, beach-Daniel, in your red hoodie and your cut-off jorts. Iconic hot-girl summer vibes. 

If you didn’t want me over-analysing this, you shouldn’t have put him in so many red outfits and then have this man leering at him like he wants to eat him alive.

Surface-level it’s not hard to read into a Dude Story: Masculine power fantasies are about strength in a very direct way. Fighting, control, suaveness – and if you’re not the most traditionally masculine of guys, asserting dominance through being a good lover or intelligent or overcoming that unmanliness in some way through beating the bully or convincing the hot girl to go out with you, levelling up in coolness. Being A Man. It’s not too dissimilar from Daniel’s arc in the first movie, if you watch it without taking later events into account, although Daniel is never interested in proving himself as a man, and more in making Miyagi proud. Still, he does win and gain respect, and arguably “get the girl,” although Ali’s interest in him was never dependent on the fight.

7. Sexual Awakenings Part 2: Sexual Assault, Liberation, and Queerness

Feminine power fantasies are often about sex. Metaphorically. More accurately it’s “owning sexuality.” Even more accurately: “Freedom.” They also inhabit a fluid space in which empowerment through monstrous desires and non-consent can happen at the same time. And on top of that, many of these “fantasies” are actually being written by men, so whose fantasy is it really? A lot of them are based in oral traditions so presumably they were originally from the mouths of women, even if modern iterations (starting with Grimm’s collections) are filtered through cis men’s perspectives.

All of that being acknowledged: In Angela Carter’s “The Company Of Wolves,” Red Riding Hood unambiguously sleeps with the wolf. Belle discovers her freedom from expectations and unsuitable suitors (and in some versions, evil stepsisters) by falling in love with a Beast (the original novel was written by a woman, the 18th century Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve). Jareth informs Sarah of his obsessive devotion to her in Labyrinth. To lean into horror for a moment – Buffy is stalked and eventually has relationships with both Angel and Spike, Lucy in Coppola’s Dracula (which I have mixed feelings about) is raped by the werewolf and Mina is stalked by Dracula, The Creature Of The Black Lagoon kidnaps Kay (the lead’s girlfriend) – subverted in both The Shape Of Water in which Eliza forms a consensual relationship with the amphibious sea-god and in the short-lived horror series Swamp Thing, in which the connection is purposefully framed as seductive…

and in The Karate Kid Part Three Daniel LaRusso punches a board until his hands bleed because an attractive, older man tells him to and in this moment he gives in to what he (thinks he) wants.

Not all of those examples are equal. Some are consensual, some are hinted as abusive and/or stalkery, all of them have large age gaps, and a few are outright non-consensual.

But they’re all fantasies.

They’re all power-fantasies.

Except for Daniel, because he’s a man and the idea that being obsessed (lusted) over by an older man who keeps you in his thrall, specifically because you tickle his fancy for whatever reason, because you’re beautiful, breakable, different – could in any way be considered empowering is a difficult concept to wrap your head around. It doesn’t contain that “but I’m a good girl, I’d never go off the path and pluck flowers if a bad wolf told me to, honest,” societal context or the social context of rape culture. It’s closest comparison is closeted (perhaps even unknown until that point) queer identity.

There have recently been some comparisons of Daniel LaRusso to Bruce Bechdel in Funhome (and everyone who says that Ralph Macchio ought to play him in the upcoming movie: you’re right and I’m just not going to enjoy it as much without him). I’ve written a post about Sam being the heir to his legacy and trauma, specifically as a queercoded man. It’s not dissimilar to the plot of Funhome in a lot of ways.

The other interesting source that’s been going around in connection with Daniel is the essay “The Rape of James Bond,” which discusses the use of sexual assault as a plot device for women and not for men: “About one in every 33 men [in the US] is raped. … [your statistically average, real life man] … doesn’t have a horde of enemies explicitly dedicated to destroying him. He doesn’t routinely get abducted, and tied up. Facing a megalomaniac psychopath gloating over causing him pain […] is not the average man’s average day at the office.” That last bit is just a descriptor of Terry Silver, (although I take issue at the blasé use of psychopath).

The two part youtube essay  Sexual Assault of Men Played for Laughs posits that there is nothing more de-masculinising than the threat of sexual assault and therefore any narrative that features this “rightfully” must mock any man who has been a victim or who fears being a victim of sexual assault. It is feminising. There is nothing more humiliating – and therefore unheroic – than a man dealing with sexual assault.

So what do we feel when we see an attractive young man being put into a vulnerable position by an older man? A trope associated with female characters, a trope that is considered unpalatable for men (see reactions that happened when the hint of sexual assault was introduced in Skyfall).

Was it the fact that he was being threatened, or the fact that James’ next line is: “what makes you think this is my first time?”

Some thoughts added by @mimsyaf​ are around the idea of safety in how a lot of cis women might relate to this narrative through Daniel’s eyes. He’s not a woman, he has – societally – more power than a girl or woman would have, which makes this a different watch to, say, if Danielle were to go through the same narrative. Daniel doesn’t carry that baggage of rape culture, or of the male gaze that you might find in a similar scenario of Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Christine in Phantom of the Opera (and once more the age differences between these characters and the men who love/lust over them are substantial), which makes the narrative “safer” to engage with.

I agree with that, although as a transmasc person I also come at it differently. I specifically like to headcanon Daniel as a trans guy and find his fraught interactions with masculinity through his own non-toxic lens relatable, as well as the way other boys and men react to it – also I think Terry Silver is hot. I know there are people who write Terry Silver with female OCs, which is also a form of empowerment.

On the flipside putting Daniel in this space runs a risk of fetishising him as a queer youth who is either Innocent and Pure, or a bisexual stereotype that deserves to be assaulted for not being a real man. After all, Real Straight Men don’t run the risk of sexual assault.

 Alas, the road to empowerment never did run smooth. 

The comparisons between the way Daniel is treated by the text and how female characters are often treated in texts are undoubtedly there. Through Ralph Macchio and TIG’s casting and the direction and acting, but also within the text itself. 

It might not be with the same purpose as Neo’s symbolically trans journey, but it puts the whole narrative that Daniel’s going through from TKK1 under a different light than if there had only been one movie that ended on a triumphant sports win and a girlfriend.

Johnny’s masculinity and the use of tears as liberation, now that’s a whole other analysis….

[abruisedmuse]

For the Elucien week drabbleathon, can I have Lucien finding out about his bio father and talking through his feelings with Elain?

ELUCIEN WEEK

DAY 7: FREE CHOICE

Okay so this is kinda funny to get this. I actually have this in my docs that's a multi chapter fic. The feelings bit with Elain is spoilery for the story itself so I can't share that...yet. But what I can do is show this part. Basically in this story, Elain finds out of Lucien's parentage through a vision and this scene below is what happens after that. It's set to be a few parts. Where Lucien deals with this information and then Lucien and Elain playing matemakers lmao. The chapter after this is where we deal with Lucien and talking to Elain I can tag you in it whenever I post this story to tumblr.

TRIGGER WARNING: very, very slight mention of child abuse

The three of them settled in the sun-lit room. For an office it was worlds different than Rhys' in the river estate back in Velaris. That room was a standard four walls. This one, Helion's office in the Day Court was a rounded room. Tall ivory columns wrap around the circular area. There were no windows, it was simply an open space allowing the sunlight and the warm kiss of its rays inside to dance along the tiled floor. Elain adored the sun peering in at every angle and the soft breeze that followed. She only wished they were here for better circumstances.

Glancing between the High Lord of Day and her mate, the resemblance was uncanny. From their posture, sitting regal yet with an air of recklessness to the silken strands of hair, matching grins, and the shape of their eyes. Mother above even their nose was the same. There was no denying her vision wasn’t false. They scarcely were.

When she told Lucien of seeing Helion and his mother, he refused to believe it. He was Beron's son unfortunately. His mother would never hide this from him. Elain pointed out to him that he did in fact cleave an unbreakable spell to come to her aide that day in Hyberns. No Autumn court member, high fae or otherwise had done that. Lucien attempted to pin it on the bond. Elain dismissed it bringing up his tendency to glow when in the throes of passion. The seer had once asked her sister if this common for faes to glow while being intimate. Feyre told her it was power from the High Lord of Day. Elain never could make sense of it. Why her mate glowed like a fire bug in the summer seasons until her vision. Lucien claimed it could be from a crossed lineage years ago.

“Lucien...you said you never felt like you were a Vanserra. That there was something wrong with you.”

“Maybe this is why. Because you’re not a Vanserra. We go to the Day Court and ask Helion says no then fine.”

There was panic and fear in his russet eyes when he looked at her. “What if he says yes?”

Elain crossed the threshold to her love taking his face in her hands, resting their foreheads together, her fingers lacing with his. “Then I will be there with you and together we will hear him out.”

With reluctance he agreed and now they were here, an awkward tension like a dense fog slowly filling the silent room.

Lucien leaned backed in the golden chair, hand flexing at fae speed on the arm of it, his equally golden eye whirring as it zeroed in on Helion. The High Lord's brows quirked up in amusement, a roguish smirk pulled at the corner of his lips.

"I've always wondered what that eye of yours could do. What it could see." Elain's cheeks flushed a vibrant pink, Helion's gaze fell on her offering a wink, "Petal." He purred, "Is it alright if I call you petal?"

The smile he gave her could turn someone's insides into liquid heat. No wonder he had as many lovers as there were clouds in the sky. She chuckled before answering, shifting in her seat, "Elain is fine."

"Ah, I see. We don't want to upset your mate and have him feel left out."

Helion turned to Lucien who remained silent and watching. A steely gaze on his father, Not father and his boots tapping with the same ferocity as his hand. Elain reached through the bond feeling wave after wave of anxiousness roiling through him. It was enough to make her feel nauseous like they were in a sea of turbulent waters instead of seated, far away from any ocean. His heart, she could tell, was battering so quickly Elain was surprised it didn’t fling directly out of chest. There was something else she noticed in the bond. Realization. He knew. And Lucien was not handling it well in his mind. Elain poured her affections down the bond then overlapping her hand with his. Sweeping a thumb over his knuckles. A silent statement to say, I'm here.

Elain smiled tenderly, noting the appreciation in his russet eye as Lucien glanced at her fingers. Sliding in between his own, squeezing them in reassurance. He repeated the action to her, holding tightly as if she were the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. Then his eyes met hers. The nervousness etched on his beautiful face softened. Her heart fluttered as it always did when he looked at Elain this way. Like she was his home. His comfort. His everything. Just as he was hers.

Helion coughed a bit too loudly to be real, breaking their moment, "I hate to break up this lovely storybook moment petal. If this is about the Pegasus who ate Rhys' shirt. One Rhys should come and two he left it in the stables. If you’ll excuse me, I do have a party to prepare for and guests will be arriving shortly.” Helion made to stand.

"Sit.” Lucien snarled. Helion’s eyes widened at the pitch and the bite of the one word. “We don't know anything about a Pegasus. We're here on our own accord." Lucien curtly stated.

The two high fae stared each down as Helion slid back into his chair. The fog thick tension is now so deep a knife could only strike it. Helion lifted a hand over his heart " Unfortunately, I don't take mated mates as lovers. I'm honored you thought of me to share your bed." He teased with a lovers grin. The fire in Lucien’s eye was a roaring flame. He was several seconds from exploding. Elain has seen him angry, furious, but nothing like this. If he wasn’t her mate, she’d be frightened at the burning rage beneath him.

"I find that odd. Being if Feyre or Nesta were here you'd take the chance." Elain challenged feeding off the energy her mate emitted.

"I-" His eye shuttered briefly before meeting Elain's again, "Sweet petal," he crooned before he could speak again Elain cut him off feeling Lucien's waring feelings churning through the bond.

"There's a reason you'd deny me. Us. I think it deals with a vision I had and Lucien." She gripped her mate tighter feeling his hand grow clammy yet white hot beneath her own.

Helion grew quiet, brows pressed together, his tanned chest rising and falling in rapid succession. Holding a stern gaze with Lucien. "Of?"

"The past."

Helion blanched, the color of his skin fully drained. All hints of the easy going High Lord faded into nothing. A mask of steel replaced it.

"What did you see?" His voice faltered, shaking and strained. He cleared his throat, aiming for a deeper tone in his voice. One that caused anyone to listen and obey. If an ominous storm with roaring thunder that streaked the sky in lighting had a voice it would’ve sounded like this. It came through gritted teeth in a low predatory growl. "What did you see?"

"You will not speak to her like that." Lucien snapped. Slamming his fists on the desks sparks of embers shot from his hands. Elain jumped back into the chair. Helion had the good sense to look startled for a moment, "Unlike you or my mother, she doesn't keep things from me." then Lucien added that and the steeled features returned.

It was Helion’s turn to stand and move for move copy his son’s actions. “Listen boy. I will rip your throat out if you insult your mother like that in my presence again are we clear?”

Lucien scoffed. Not the usual playful scoff Elain had grown accustomed to. This was laced with malice. “You don’t think I’ve heard threats like this before? My entire life? "I've been beaten for saying less.”

Elucien watched as the emotionless expression Helion wore quickly faded. Now his face crumbled. Pained with grief, the glow in his eyes gone as he stepped away from Lucien. Her eyes darted between the two. This wasn’t just protecting a secret she realized. There was love here. For the lady of the autumn court, and for his son. Her mate.

"I'm sorry." Helion let out in a defeated sigh. "Forgive me. forgive us."

For as fast as that heated anger ripped through Lucien, it seemed to to die down. Like the loud sigh for Helion somehow cooled her mate down.

"I-" Lucien turned to Elain unsure of what to do. Elain did not respond the whites of her eyes rolled up, her body falling back into the chair.

Mate.

The word seared in her head, when thrust back into the past, seeing Helion and the Lady of the Autumn Court together. As if her inner eye was speaking to her, revealing a part neither Lucien nor herself were ready for. Now she felt it. The golden spark tethering two souls. Pure, protective, unbreakable love. Seconds later she came back to reality.

Lucien no longer standing at the desk but kneeling in front of her. Calloused palms on hers while he searched her features.

“Elain?”

She didn’t look at him. Her gaze landed on Helion who took a step back.

“You’re mates."

“There are things bigger than telling you the truth. Stakes are high dealing with him and a situation like ours. This conversation cannot happen here.” Helion drew a finger to follow as he stood. “Ears are everywhere in Prythian. You should know this.” He fixed a sorrowful look on Lucien. “We will talk in my inner office.”

elucienweek taglist: @ladyvanserra @helion-ism @bookologist @firestarsandseneschals @thecrownlands @rarephloxes @elucienweek @nestaisgod

[yukheistics]

liar, mark lee.

pairing mark lee x reader

word count 2.5k

genre angst, slight fluff

warning(s) implication of cheating

note i’m experimenting with writing styles, so bear with me on this one hehe! this concept is inspired by the ways we lie by stephanie ericsson. i finished this at 2am so idek (⊙‿⊙✿)

summary he knows how to lie. he knows how it works. he knows you.

There are many things Mark Lee is good at. 

He knows how to rap, sing, and dance until his lungs are on fire. He knows how to plaster a smile on his face when his company offers another tiring position for him to be in. He knows how to pretend that everything is alright for him to handle. He knows how to lie.

He has a thing or two for semantics and can construct a deception for one to believe in. He maintains his composure, sticks to his story, and walks around the truth more often than he can think. He claims to dislike lying, but the person he often does it to is you. He likes to think of it as a way of protecting you as unpleasant as it really sounds. 

“Have you told her yet?” Donghyuck asks him after dance practice when it was just the two of them alone. He looks concerned for him. “The sooner you tell her, the better. You know that.”

Mark simply shrugs his shoulders and leans his back on the mirror. “’Hyuck, just—I’ll handle it, okay? I just don’t know how to tell her.”

“Simple,” the younger male starts to wipe his sweat off with his shirt and sits next to him. “Tell her about the contract. It’ll ease her mind knowing that her boyfriend isn’t actually cheating on her.”

“Right.”

“She already put a lot on the line for you. The least you can do is tell her the truth.”

He recalls an essay he has read in his junior year of high school: The Ways We Lie by Stephanie Ericsson. It made him aware of the underlying cancer that grows within our mind that society accepts the fact that everyone lies. It’s a trait that has been embedded in the human mind for so long that it is almost impossible to get rid of.

There are ten ways listed, but all he remembers are four prominent ones: white lies, facades, omissions, and delusions. (He utilizes it all.)

“Baby, I’m fine.”

Mark reassures you. He never lies to you—not even a white lie, but he doesn’t want to worry you with his issues. It is his problem, anyways. He couldn’t find the right flow to the rap verse they assigned him to, no matter how many times he does it. Something is missing. He’s way off, he thinks. 

“Okay, fine,” you pout through the video call and cross your arms. “But if there is something wrong, you have to tell me. Even if you know I am sleeping because of our shitty time zones, you still have to call me just to tell me. I don’t care!”

He laughs wholeheartedly and grins at you. “Of course.”

“You better, Mark Lee,” you shake your head in a taunting manner. “Or else, I will go to South Korea myself and force the answer out of you. Wait, that’s too aggressive, but you get what I’m saying, right?”

“I’m still surprised I understand you in general,” he jokes and stands up to get a glass of water. “But baby, I’m fine. You know how comeback season works, it’s like, a routine at this point.”

“I know,” you address. “Just make sure to get lots of rest and know your limits. I don’t want my baby boy getting sick while I’m in another country studying law.”

He blushes at the nickname and rubs the back of his neck. “Of course. I always know my limits.”

“Take a break.”

Mark looks up from the lyric sheet and sees Taeyong staring right at him. He clenches his jaw and pushes the headset down to his shoulders before opening the door of the recording studio. “I’m fine. I just need more time. I keep messing up a verse.”

“The producer said your voice was already good during your eighth recording. You are at your twelfth right now,” the leader pauses and pats his shoulder. “I understand where this is coming from, but you never acted this way over a recording. Is everything okay?”

He looks down at his shoes. “Yeah, you know me. I have a tendency to try and perfect it the least. It’s the least I can do to our fans.”

“Just don’t push yourself. It’s already midnight. Make sure to get some rest,” Taeyong purses his lips and playfully hits his shoulder. “Plus, what would ____ think if she knows you’re not taking care of yourself, huh?”

Mark almost crumples the contract in his hands. “She’d be pretty concerned—and mad.” He pushes the chair back and runs his fingers through his hair. “Fuck, why did I agree to this?”

At this point, he wears a facade for you. He keeps saying things again and again and hopes to God that you haven’t caught on to his act. It’s a one man play. And you’re the only one watching. He looks at his best friend, who pushes a mug of green tea towards him—as if it will solve all of his problems. It won’t. 

“Why did you?” Donghyuck repeats and looks at him with concern. He has known Mark for the past ten years, but he can never understand the impulsive decisions he makes. It’s one to be dedicated to a job, but it’s another to be impulsive. “Mark, you’re gonna break her if you don’t tell her.”

Mark laughs. He glances down at the hot steam coming from the mug before looking at his best friend. “You think I don’t know that, ‘Hyuck?”

“Tell her,” the other boy urges on. “Tell her how you signed a contract that states you agreed to be in a relationship for the time being for the new group’s sake. Technically, it is the truth.”

“It’ll make her more stressed. She’s already stressed with law. I don’t need this to be a part of her concern.”

“Then, tell me,” Donghyuck finally sighs. “Tell me what you’re gonna tell her when you’re on the headlines for being in a secret relationship with a trainee?”

Mark clearly knows his faults and weaknesses. He is partaking in another version of lies: omissions. He tells you the truth by excluding one or more key components of it. You don’t need to know everything, is what his mind says when he sees you through the camera exhausted, but still excited to see him. You ask questions and he answers with the important parts being left out. He asks questions and you answer with utter honesty because he knows you too well. 

(You don’t need to know.)

“Yujin,” Mark enunciates and looks at her with a tilt of his head. “Do you think this is right by any means?”

She hums. “Well,” she takes a sip from her drink. “It’s what the company wants right? It’s their word against ours—and you should know how this industry functions at this point. It’s a bunch of manipulation and shit that is geared towards perfection, which is only utilized to please the public eye.”

“Well, I know that,” he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “I mean about this—our relationship.”

She giggles. “We’re getting paid anyways. What’s so bad about kissing in front of the camera at events to please fans?”

“Right,” he replies with a strained laugh. “I just find the idea nerve-wracking.”

She frowns at him. “Mark, are you okay?”

Here is what he learned from the entertainment industry: people don’t really want to know how you feel. The truth, they never want that. When they ask how are you, they don’t wanna know. They just ask because they feel like they have to. They don’t want you to elaborate on how you really are. It’s something that they do to make them seem like a good person. They do it for their part and not his. 

No. The two letter word burns on his tongue, but just like a mechanized script, the words that leave his mouth is a lie that he has told multiple times that leave people with a nonchalant smile on their lips: “Yeah, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He sees you for the fifth time this week, dressed in sweats as you cradle a bowl of cereal in your hands with a goofy smile on your face. “What?” you curiously ask with the spoon in your mouth. “Am I that pretty, Mark?”

“You’re always pretty,” he responds immediately with a slight smirk on his lips, which in turn causes you to blush. “I miss you.”

You smile. “I miss you more.”

He sees your tired smile once more and sighs. He wants to tell you, really, but he doesn’t want to see that smile slip from your features knowing that it is his fault. But he knows that he will be the reason you will be crying in the following week. It’s for you, he repeats in his head, it’s for you. 

I need to let you go.

“Imagine if I just became an idol, hm?” you suddenly say. “I’d probably see you more and not stress about stupid bar exams for the time being.”

Don’t. Please don’t. He urges to say, but he just shakes his head and sheepishly grins at you. “Well, if you did become one, you’d probably be a singer. I still remember when you were drunk and sang to me—”

“You said you wouldn’t bring that up!” Despite the virtual connection, he can still clearly see your flushed cheeks. Again. (He really loves you.) “That was so fucking embarrassing.”

“It was adorable.”

“Right,” you close your eyes and lean your face closer to the camera. “I love you, Mark Lee.”

“I love you too,” he responds immediately. “One day,” he rubs his eyes. “One day, I’ll finish my contract and I can be with you. We can be together. That sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

To think, he has already planned out his life with you in his mind, but he knows it’s impossible. But not only does he aim to deceive you, but to deceive himself too. It’s a delusion as Ericsson would describe it to be. It’s funny how he cannot remember a preponderance of things, yet he always remembers how delusion was described: filters out information that contradicts what we want to believe. He is building a perception of a perfect world with you, where he wouldn’t have to think about his image for a second. It’s too good to be true. It’s not real.

“It does. It really does,” you say, but the tone of your voice says otherwise. “Just promise me one thing?”

“What is it?”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Mark Lee.”

The blinding lights of the studio almost make him want to throw up. Mark watches how the staff are preparing the set and how his management are talking over the script with the interviewer. He looks at himself through the mirror one more time before facing Yujin, who is busy fixing her eyelash extensions. 

“So, the interview is gonna be live,” Yujin drawls out, puckering her lips and tilting her head at him. “Mark, be honest with me,” she taps his shoulder. “Do you hate me?”

He widens his eyes and shakes his head. “No, I don’t. I swear!”

“You sure? Because every time we talk, you look glum. You tend to zone out.”

“It’s really not because of you,” he utters. “Let’s just say, I didn’t expect the company to agree to this for publicity.”

She nods in acknowledgement. “Is that all?”

Mark thinks of Yujin as a catalyst. She’ll be the one to speed up the duration of his relationship with you and destroy whatever he has built for you. Not that any of this was hers to control. He wishes he can hate her, but all she has ever done was sign her name on a contract the same as he did. If anything, Yujin is a spawn in a much bigger scheme that acts as the catalyst. 

“Yeah, that’s all.”

Mark feels dizzy. His eyes are overwhelmed by the numerous flashes from cameras and the questioning voices of reporters. He pulls down his cap as if it’ll do him any justice and wraps his arm around Yujin—as told by the company. “I didn’t know the reporters were gonna be this much.”

“Well, since our management wants our relationship to blow up, it’d make sense in a way,” she exhaustedly replies when he opens the car door for her. “Just smile and pose, Markie,” she says and leans in for a kiss on his cheek when she catches a camera aimed their way.

He freezes. 

“Show business is show business,” she whispers in his ear and gets in the car. “It’s a cruel world we live in, isn’t it?”

Mark calls you, but he understands why you haven’t picked up in the past week. He already can see your tear-stained cheeks and hear your stifled sobs. He wishes he can tell you the truth, but he’d rather let you go with a lie. He’s good at that. He’s good at lying. He’s lied before to you. It should be easy.

“It’s been going on for the past months,” he tells you. “I-I didn’t know how to bring it up, so I just—”

“Decided to let me see it for myself?” you cut him off, chuckling nervously. “God, Mark, this whole damn time I have thought to be with you, you’ve been off fucking a trainee?”

Mark almost grimaces. But he maintains the composure he has left for himself and nods slowly. Lie. Lie. Lie. Lie until it feels right. “It just happened. One day, we were practicing and we clicked. At first, I thought it was a one-time thing to distract myself. I just needed a friend at the time,” he pauses. “One thing led to another and we slept with each other, okay? And I just lost feelings for you. I only continued our relationship because I felt obligated to.”

It’s a lie. It’s a lie. It’s a lie.

He loves you. He has always loved you, regardless of the distance between you. The only reason you had to move was because of his debut; the company did not want any news spreading about him being in a relationship, yet they were the ones pulling the strings as of right now. They explained how their new girl group was not selling well, and the infamous Mark Lee was a way to solve the problem. Mark, do this, Mark, do that. Mark, pretend. Just smile and pose. Smile. Smile beneath the lie. 

He can’t keep doing this to you.

“You did so much for me, so I kept calling you as a means to return the favor.”

He sees it. He sees the tears building up in your eyes as you force on a smile and laugh again. “What am I? A charity case?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I hate you.” 

He knows you too well. He knows that you’re putting a front—don’t we all? He thinks of the white lie you’re uttering, the facade you’re wearing, the omission you’re doing, and the delusion you’re forcing yourself into. He knows how to lie. He knows how it works. He knows you. 

“I know.” I know that’s a lie.

[wreckofawriter]

Strawberries

Restaurant AU!

Pairing: James Potter x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Lewd language, swearing, a small mention of sexual harassment. tooth-rotting fluff.

Summary: You hate being a waitress for rich assholes, but maybe the new line cook will make it a little better

A/n: this is for week three of my Cliche Month. Sorry for being inactive. I suck at time management and have no motivation.

    You never aspired to be a waitress. You didn’t sit down in primary school on a ridiculously colorful rug and tell your underpaid depressed teacher that you wanted to wait on prestigious assholes and rich men who thought a 20 dollar tip bought them an ass grab. You never wanted to wait on entitled white women and spoiled brats. But shit happens.

   

“Yes ma’am I understand but that was last week’s special, we don’t serve it anymore.”

    The woman rolled her eyes, “I don’t think you do understand. I said I want the sea bass, just have them make the sea bass.”

    You bit back cusses, “I am very sorry ma’am but we don’t have the ingredients in the kitchen to make a sea bass. I can recommend our halibut it’s severed with a delicious mango chutney and-”

    “Shut up about the mango crap. She said she wants a seabass, give her a seabass.” The man who sat on the opposite side of the table spoke.

    Your smile almost faltered, “Sir, we don’t have sea bass.” 

    “Then get some.” The man huffed, “There are plenty of stores around.”

    You had already taken the fork beside him and jabbed him in the eye in your mind four times, “I am terribly sorry sir, we cannot do that.”

    The look on his face could only be described as disgust, “I would like to speak to your supervisor.”

    You took in a deep breath, “Sir, he will not say any different.”

    “Now girl.” He snapped, his wife’s smirk making you want to smash her champagne glass over her head.

    “I will be right back.” You forced a smile, notebook flipping shut as you turned, the click of your heels disappearing into the chatter of diners. You almost rubbed your tired eyes only to remember the makeup which coated them and dropped your hands back to your side. You walked towards the pass of the kitchen, the smell of fish and meats becoming stronger as waiters weaved around you. 

    “Denzel.” You called, the man in question turning towards you.

    He raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

    “Can you pretend to be my supervisor?” You asked, “Some idiots still want to order the sea bass.” 

    “I’m assuming you told them that was last week's special.” He spoke as you began to lead him back to the couple.

    “Multiple times.” you sighed.

    He nodded smiles finding both of your faces as you stood in front of the table.

    “How can I help you both tonight?” He spoke, his voice dramatically shifting tones. 

    The woman went on to explain your complete incompetence just to hear your friend restate everything you had. She eventually ordered the halibut.

    Denzel left thanking them for their cooperation as you went on to take the man's order and pretending not to hear his wife calling you a bitch as you walked away. 

    You wanted to be a journalist, a warrior of justice. You wanted to expose the one percent, shattering their ivory towers with a mallet of words. 

Instead, you served them halibut and ribeyes with a smile as fake as their trophy wives tits. 

James had fallen in love with many things in his life but cooking had been the most prevalent. Most hobbies were tossed out windows, they became phases, leaving nothing but footprints in his life. But cooking had been different. Since he was five years old and would hop onto a stepping stool to peer into the cast-iron pan his mother would be sauteing in he had been hooked. By age 10 he was making things like meatballs and stroganoff. At fourteen he began to engage in more complicated dishes and by the time he hit culinary school he was easily the best in class. 

Now as he washed his hundredth dish of the night he wondered if all of that love had been for absolutely nothing. When applying for a line cook position at one of the most prestigious restaurants in London he definitely didn’t expect to be stuck as a dishwasher. 

James’ hands felt raw from scrubbing, his apron soaked with warm water and unscented soap. His feet were aching in his shoes, his jealousy for those putting together the night’s last desserts burning hot.

He ignored his anger and pushed on, washing plate after plate just to place them into an industrial-sized dishwasher which was supposed to thoroughly clean the dishes which he already spent hours scrubbing. Dessert plates and wine glasses seemed to replace every dinner plate he had washed, his work seeming endless as his coworkers said goodnight and walked out the back door. 

It took James another hour to finish. He felt like he could pass out on the kitchen floor. His glasses were a greasy steamed mess as he pushed them back up his nose for the nth time that evening. He sighed out in a mix of exhaustion and relief untying his apron and preparing to leave.

“So you’re the newbie?” 

James jumped letting out a small yelp as his heart leapt in his chest. 

You let out a snort hand coming to cover your mouth, a poor attempt of hiding your giggles.

“You scared the shit out of me.” James huffed his glare only holding for a moment as you came into focus. Your hair was up in a reckless bun, your waitress uniform slightly crumpled, heels held in your left hand. Yet your cheeks seemed to be painted, the smirk your visage held tantalizing. 

“I saw.” You snickered padding past him and dropping your shoes onto a counter with a small clink. You headed for the refrigerator, opening it and scorning over its contents. You finally settled on a container of cut strawberries, which were to be used as a garnish the next day, “You won’t tell will you?” You muttered peeling open the top and snatching a fork from the dishwasher.

James nodded, what for he wasn’t quite sure. 

You jumped onto the counter spinning to face him, “Sooo, what’s your name?”

“Uhh, James, James Potter.” He said leaning back onto the sink.

“It’s very nice to meet you, James.” You grinned, “I’m y/n y/l/n.” 

An awkward silence followed as you plopped a berry into your mouth, its flavor bursting as you side-eyed the man. 

“You’re a line cook right?” You asked, legs swinging in front of you. 

James pouted a bit, his cheeks puffing for a brief moment, “Well I’m supposed to be but so far all I’ve done is wash dishes and take out the trash.”

You hummed in understanding, swallowing fruit before speaking again, “They do that to every newbie. They want to make sure you can do the dirty work before they let you burn on the line.”

James started at you, “Really?” 

You shrugged, “That’s how it’s always worked.”

“That’s a relief I thought I was going to be stuck doing this shit.”  James relished in his found happiness feeling a bit more energized, “Hey what are you doing back here anyway, didn’t most of the waitresses leave like an hour ago?” 

“I just had to see if the new cook was as attractive as all the girls said he was.” You grinned.

James felt his cheeks flame, eyes going wide, “Are you serious?” 

“No,” You snickered, “I got hungry and didn’t feel like cooking.”

The heat of his cheeks only worsened, “That’s rude.”

You cooed, “Ooh poor baby I’m so sorry I hurt your feelings, are you going to be okay?” 

“I don’t know.” James huffed, “I don’t think I can take this harassment.” 

The laughter that echoed around him caused a smile to break onto his face. 

You suddenly realized he was as attractive as the other waitresses were saying. Even if his hair was a mess and his glasses were smudged. 

You hadn’t been lying. By his third week, James was helping with both garnish and desserts. His thirst for cooking finally being fulfilled even by the small tasks he had been given. He was still forced to do dishes at the end of service but usually, someone would help him or even trade-off with him so he could take part in prep. 

Most nights when he was left alone in the kitchen you would appear, always claiming to be hungry and that cooking was for “the weak.” so you would raid the fridge instead. You stated many times that veggies and leftover slices of cake were a fine dinner much to James’ distaste. 

“That's it.” The newbie announced, hands in the air in mock surrender as you opened a container of cauliflower. “This has to stop.”

Your heart sped in your chest, was he going to turn you in? 

“You can’t keep eating shit, I’m going to cook something for you.” James huffed, moving you aside and beginning to pull stuff from the refrigerator. 

You lifted your brows, “Are you sure?” 

James nodded, “You need to taste actual food.”

You rolled your eyes, “Couldn’t you get in, like, a lot of trouble.”

“You aren’t going to tell me, are you?” He smirked pulling out salmon and bok choy. 

“Obviously not.” You huffed taking your usual seat in the counter as James began to work, “What are you making anyway?”

“Asian inspired salmon.” He mumbled, lighting the stove and grabbing a frying pan. 

You sat in comfortable silence, watching as he cut the vegetable in half placing it into a pan and the salmon into another. James’ hands moved quickly, not hesitating with the large knives he handled and weaving through the meal as he grabbed seasonings and sauces.

By the time he was pulling the fish from the heat, the kitchen had filled with the scent of soy sauce and warmth.    

Grabbing a plate James placed on the salmon followed by the bok choy and the lemon sesame sauce. He wiped the rim with a damp rag and presented it before you with enough dramatics to earn a giggle.

“You’re ridiculous.” You spoke through a smile taking the fork from his offering hand and digging in. 

You placed the tender meat into your mouth and was greeted by an explosion of flavors that danced on your tongue like pixie dust. You hummed, a facade of deliberation on your face, “It's overcooked.” You started plainly watching as James’ face dropped. “I’m just kidding it's delicious.” You laughed as James rolled his eyes. 

“You are such a dick,” he mumbled, beginning to clean the slight mess he had made. 

“What are you doing?” You asked. James gave you a strange look, “Get a fork dumbass, you can’t make rich people food like this and then not eat it.” 

The smile that crept onto his face caused wings to erupt in your stomach. 

You had always hated teenagers. They were spoiled and greedy and gross. So when an older woman walked in with four 17-year-old boys you had fled the scene. Unfortunately, the waitress head placed you at the table anyway. The second you reached the table all four adolescence had fallen silent and you were positive it wasn’t them being polite. One of them started at your boobs the entire they ordered and you could feel their eyes on your ass as you walked away. 

You were used to the gross stares, every waitress was. It didn’t matter how expensive the food was there always seemed to be creeps asking for it. What you had not been prepared for was the boy closest to you to reach out and grab you. 

You didn’t hesitate, hand snatching his wrist before he had a chance to fully pull away. The woman the boys were with gasped. You squeezed his arm tight hoping he could feel your nails biting his skin. 

“Touch me again and I will cut your hand off. Am I clear?” You hissed, a whimper left the teen’s mouth and you released him. You placed his plate in front of him with a clatter and didn’t waste time walking away. 

Your anger didn’t diminish the rest of the night and by the time your shift was over you considered going straight home, a shower and an extra hour of sleep would serve you well.

You glanced into the kitchen, there were three chefs left, James stood in front of the sink smiling at nothing as he always seemed to do. A sigh left your lips, who needs sleep anyway?

“I’ll close up.” You called to the head waitress who shot you a skeptical look.

“You used to hate closing.” She mused, “What’s with the sudden change of heart?”

You shrugged, “Nothing in particular.”

She smirked, “So it has absolutely nothing to do with the new dishwasher?”

Pink bloomed on your cheeks, “He’s a line cook and no it doesn’t.”

“Uh-huh, sure it doesn’t.” She mocked, “If you’re gonna fuck just don’t do it in the kitchen.” 

Your face twisted in disgust and you almost dropped the napkins you held, “That is so gross.” 

She laughed, dropping the keys on the bar, “If I find any bodily fluids in my office you’re fired.” 

“You are disgusting.” You hissed, face hot and she only laughed harder.

You finished cleaning off the remainder of the tables, peeking into the kitchen occasionally as the last two cooks left for the night. 

The weight of your exertion hit hard as you entered the kitchen, legs seeming to give out as you bent down to remove your heels. 

James noticed your discomfort and let out a chuckle, “Let me.” 

You stood up a bit too quickly, head spinning for a second as you were lifted onto the counter, James crouching to slip off your shoes. You sighed leaning back onto your palms. 

“Tough day?” he asked, turning back to open the fridge. 

You nodded, “Kids are assholes.” 

James laughed, “And why's that?”

You yawned eyes watering from its force as you answered, “Well one little highschool shit grabbed my ass.”

James froze, he hand hovering midair as he processed what you had just told him, “What?”

“Oh yeah, entitled rich kids always think they can touch whatever they want. It's why I hate serving teenagers.” You complained not noticing the distress you had put James under.

“This happens regularly?” He was appalled.

    “Well not really regularly more like once a month, it’s not always teenagers though,” You explained, “Oo what’s that?” 

    James set the container of chocolate-covered strawberries in front of you. His mouth still agape “Once a month isn’t regular?”

    You huffed, “Can we stop talking about it? It happens to every waitress.”

    “Yeah, sorry,” James mumbled watching as you bit into a strawberry, lipstick smearing.

    “You going to have one of these?” You asked, holding one between your thumb and pointer finger. 

    “Sure.” James went to grab the strawberry only for you to pull it away with a grin.

    “No, no, I get to feed it to you.” Your smile was sweetly arranged. 

    Heat tingled on his neck like tv static, “Don’t be ridiculous y/n.” 

    “Oh come on James, don’t be a pussy.” You taunted waving the fruit in front of him as color painted his cheeks. 

    He glared at you in mock annoyance as his heartbeat began to run, “Fine.”

    You giggled as he took the berry into his mouth, lips barely grazing your fingertips as he pulled away. 

    James had never been more embarrassed in his life, he chewed the sweet fruit refusing to meet your eyes as you continued to laugh.

    “You’re cute ya’ know.” You giggled.

    James scoffed, a mix of bittersweet coming from your words, “Whatever.” He walked away from you hiding his flushed face. 

    You whined, “I’m not joking. You are really cute.”

    “Seriously y/n stop,” James spoke, his voice laced with disappointment and melancholy. 

    You rolled your eyes, “You’re such an idiot James.” 

    He leaned against the refrigerator as you plopped another berry into your mouth. His arms crossed as a pout you had found yourself obsessed with took his lips. 

    “A few girls actually did want your number.” You hummed watching as he seemed to perk up, reminding you of a puppy given a toy. “I was supposed to get it for them, but I didn’t really want to.”

    James scrunched his brows, “Why not?”

    “Cause I wanted your number dumbass.” You scoffed, “I wasn’t about to give it to someone else.” `

    This only confused him more, “Why would you want my number?”

    A groan lifted from your lips, “Your skull is so thick James. I want your number because you’re cute and funny and all that shit.” your voice fell to a mumble and your eyes became glued to your swinging feet.

    “Why didn’t you ask for my number?” James challenged and you felt your already warm face grow hot. 

    “I was nervous.” You muttered bitterly not liking the vulnerable position you had been put into.

    James was suddenly stepping towards you “What was that?” he grinned hand to his ear mockingly.

    “You’re enjoying this too much.” You grumbled, “Look I like you, I think you’re cute and sweet and funny now are you going to continue being a dick or give me a proper response?” 

    James continued to beam, stepping closer to you as you glared up at him with pink cheeks. 

    “Well, you’re really cute too.” James said, “And I think you were being the dick for making me try to impress you for three weeks only to say you liked me the entire time.”

    You were tempted to bury your head in your hands but considering that would mean you breaking his gaze you stopped yourself, “Oh fuck off.” you muttered heart thudding so loud you wondered if James could hear it.

    “Is that really what you want?” He questioned already knowing the answer. He leaned over you cupping your cheek.

    “Just kiss me already asshole.” You murmured.

    James tilted your head up to meet his lips. They were soft and plush, a thousand times better than you imagined them to be nights before. Your thighs parted as his own pressed against the counter between them in desperation to be closer to you. Closed kisses turned to open-mouthed ones, leaving the pleasant taste of strawberries on your tongue. 

Taglist:

@accio-rogers @roslea @k3nz-doodl3 @theseuscmander @sleepingalaska @chloe-geoghegan1 @obsessedwithrandomthings @coldlilheart

Masterlist

[itsclydebitches]

Hello, everyone! Can you believe this is the third time I've started the recap for this chapter? Between a dying computer and a mass edit during my monthly state of, "Oh my god get rid of everything we can't let people know that we wRITE!" this project is cursed. This is the version though, I can feel it. Be positive!

Now, where were we? It's been some months (RIP) since I last posted, so I wouldn't be surprised if everyone's forgotten what's going on in this insane novel. A quick recap before the recap then: new teams have formed, no one is happy about it, Sun and Velvet went off to a shady club run by The Crown and — shock shock, surprise surprise — got themselves into a heap of trouble. That's the long and the short of it. We have to wait a while to find out what happens to them though because this chapter is focused on Coco.

We learn that Professor Rumpole has sent Coco and her new team — Team ROSC — out into the desert to take care of the grimm around the city's borders. To say that Coco is disappointed in this assignment is an understatement. We learn that they've been at this for a week straight and have gone without showering or a change of clothes that entire time (no one packed a bag?), so for a second I was hugely sympathetic. You know this vine? 

I feel this vine in my soul. Give me hot water and hot coco or give me death. Besides, work is work and dangerous, physical work without a break or basic comforts is incredibly taxing. Toss in the extreme heat of a desert and I'd be pissed at everything too, no matter how important my work was. That's human.

Yet instead of humanizing Coco like this, it turns out she doesn't care at all about the hardship involved. It's fighting grimm that she's annoyed by. She thinks that "Searching for the person or persons kidnapping innocent people for some unknown but dark purpose was way more useful than fighting Grimm far from the city" and I'm just like, Coco, honey...

Do you know what your career path is?

IT'S TO KILL GRIMM.

Okay, there's admittedly a justification here, but it's a stupid one. Coco goes on to say that "This area was called the Wastelands for a reason." She's snarky about it, saying that it wastes “her time, her talent, and her patience," but the real takeaway is that it's, you know, a wasteland. Deserted of grimm and of people. What's the point of defending an area that doesn't need defending? A huntress' job might normally be to fight grimm, but when those grimm aren't around and kidnappers are, that's a whole new set of priorities.

The problem with all this is that the Wastelands is definitely not deserted and it's definitely not as far from the city as Coco would like to imply. In just a few paragraphs an alarm is going to trip and Coco will find six grimm roaming in a pack. Then she finds a person. Then that person says she needs to get back to see someone in the city within half an hour. So there are grimm, there are people about, and this area is apparently close enough to the border that you can get back to the city proper, on foot, and then get wherever it is you’re going in a bustling metropolis... all within half an hour. By that logic these grimm aren't out in the boonies, they're right outside everyone's door.

Yet Coco isn't convinced, saying that "Post Beacon [killing grimm] had been for a noble cause, but this just felt like … busywork." I cannot possibly emphasize enough that this is the job she signed up for. Not to be a detective specializing in missing people, not a war hero always on the front lines of a battle, but one of many huntsmen who perform the daily, routine, very necessary task of protecting the people from grimm. With "protecting" covering both immediate threats and preparatory work that ensures more threats don't come about — like taking care of grimm outside before they become a larger threat. You know what would have happened if Beacon had a daily chore of students killing grimm within a few miles radius of the school? There would have been far less grimm charging a mass of unprotected students when negativity unexpectedly skyrocketed.

And, as always, I am aware that Rumpole is the likely villain here. From a writing perspective, this is very much presented as her getting Coco out of the way so that she can go about her nefarious deeds in peace... but that doesn't erase the fact that the task itself is a sound one. Rumpole's motivations don't matter here, only Coco's annoyance that she... has to do her job?

I mean yeah, everyone complains about their job to one extent or another, but can you imagine if you stumbled across a firefighter complaining about all the kitchen fires they've had to put out lately? "It's so boring! There are much better things I could be spending my time and talent on. I mean, that inferno that took out a city block last year? Putting that out was noble. But routine fires? House fires? Giving lectures on how to prevent fires in the future? Ugh, I can't believe the department expects me to do this grunt work." Meanwhile, you're sneaking off, hoping that this firefighter is never called to your house, nursing mild worries about how much they're romanticizing the recent tragedy that took so many lives...

Complaints about the job turn into complaints about the teams, which makes far more sense for Coco's character. Anyone's, really. Despite my insistence that it's a good thing they're learning to fight with people other than their three besties, that was absolutely a sudden and rather traumatizing change, just given how attached the teams already are. I'm not at all surprised that Coco is struggling to cope.

She says she misses her friends, obviously, but also "surprisingly, Coco missed being in charge."

...That's supposed to be surprising? Coco, you love being in charge! How is this in any way a revelation?

Apparently it is though, stemming from how bad Reese is as their leader. As with so many things in RWBY, I find myself disagreeing with a perspective that's presented as a fact: "She liked to lead by group vote, which wasn’t leading at all." Yes... it is? We could go down a rabbit hole of literal definitions — to lead is to direct, to direct is to regulate, to regulate is to direct again — but ultimately our understanding of a word does not adhere to the dictionary alone. It's a knowledge built on experience and I would hope that everyone's experience with the term "leader" includes that person considering multiple perspectives before making a decision. A leader doesn't impose their view on a group without due consideration of their preferences and needs — that's a dictator — a leader guides the group based on feedback and their personal knowledge. If that feedback and knowledge results in a standstill, or if their knowledge outweighs preferences, they are the deciding vote because the people have previously said, "We trust your decisions" through the act of making them leader in the first place. 

Asking for a group vote isn't avoiding leadership, it's an act of leadership. Reese decided that these situations warranted a majority rule. She further decided that whatever they settled on was indeed an appropriate course of action. Leadership skills are required to assess a situation and determine whether it's appropriate to vote on in the first place. If I announce to a group that we're voting on whether we go to the movies or the museum, I've done the work to determine that both of these choices are of roughly equal value and roughly equal availability. I haven't hit on any snags like, "The only movies playing are mindless blockbusters and I want this to be an educational outing" or "The museum is too far away. We'll never make it to dinner on time." Figuring out that a group can vote is its own kind of work. This avenue is particularly useful when the group is of roughly equal standing. With a few exceptions (like Ruby and Jaune) huntsmen classmates are all the same age, underwent the same training, and have had the same combat experiences. This isn't a case of one elite huntsmen lending their knowledge to an otherwise green party, it's a school randomly pointing at a somewhat outgoing individual during orientation and saying, "You. You're leader material, I guess, even though you've done little differently than the person standing beside you." Someone has to lead and Vacuo's switcheroo proves that anyone can be the leader if they're just put in that position. Coco claims a group vote is just "passing the responsibility off to your team" and yes! You want to share the responsibility because you are a team. They are a group of four equals working together with one person to guide them, they are not a boss with three subordinates. Why wouldn't Reese utilize the skills and ideas of those teammates? When making a decision, why wouldn't she see if everyone believes it's a good idea to do Thing A as opposed to Thing B? Unless Reese is outright ignoring her own ideas, beliefs, or gut feelings to cater to the others — which there's no reference of — this is good leadership. She's assisting her team in making decisions as a whole, rather than arbitrarily imposing her view on three others of similar skill and experience.

Yet Coco acts like because Reese doesn't go, "We're doing Thing A! End of discussion!" it's not leadership. Which, frankly, says a lot about how the RWBY-verse sees leadership as a whole.

I realize I'm rambling a great deal, so let me quickly provide a different media example. I'm currently immersed in Star Trek: Voyager and in season two, episode 14 "Alliances," Captain Janeway is faced with a difficult choice: align herself with a violent and so far untrustworthy species, or risk traveling through this quadrant of space without any allies. At first she's entirely against the idea of an alliance, going so far as to say that this isn't a democracy. She's the captain, dammit, she makes the decisions! But her first officer begs her to reconsider. Then the crew express disappointment — even disgust — that she won't consider this alternative. Then her chief of security, being a Vulcan, provides a persuasively logical argument for why an alliance is worth the risk... Long story short, Janeway finds herself in the minority and changes her decision accordingly. She attempts to garner an alliance and the fact that she was right — the species wasn't trustworthy and the alliance fails — is entirely beside the point. She realized that the majority voice matters. As far as we know, Reese is already practicing what Janeway learned.

ANYWAY the point is none of it matters because these characterizations are a mess. Coco also throws out that Reese "dressed like she was a twelve-year-old hanging out at the mall" and supposedly acts like one too. We're not given any examples of what that behavior looks like and, sorry, but I'm not personally inclined to judge someone based on their fashion sense. It would be great if this story actually engaged with some of the flaws the characters demonstrated, rather than just throwing them out to exist in this unacknowledged void.

Not that Coco's fashion-focused personality is really that important. Truly, the best thing about all this is how contradictory Coco's own thoughts are. She also listens to her teammates... except when she doesn't. She know when to go with their ideas and when to dismiss them for her own... except when she gets it totally wrong. As with so much in RWBY, this doesn't feel like the author giving Coco deliberate flaws that the story will grapple with down the line, it just comes across as a nonsense philosophy about leadership we're not meant to examine too closely. Coco gets to make references to the fact that her own, supposedly superior leadership is filled with holes, but heaven forbid she engage with that. 

She ends all this with the thought that no matter what she might decide, she trusted her team to "do what she demanded of them” and is now extending that courtesy to Reese. This I'm inclined to praise Coco for. No matter what she might be thinking, it doesn't appear as if she's tried to undermine Reese (well, not yet. More on that at the chapter’s end), and she doesn’t appear to be refusing to listen to that leadership, even if she doesn't like how it comes about. As we're about to see, Coco has her team's best interests at heart, no matter the challenges they're facing.

Her thoughts turn back to her old team and we get... this.

Velvet was with a team that didn’t recognize her awesome capabilities. Fox was withdrawing, having lost his family for the second time. Yatsuhashi was going mad with worry about Velvet and his teammates, knowing that he couldn’t be there to protect them, and worrying he would accidentally hurt someone on his new team.

This is so unnecessarily dramatic. First, how does Coco even know any of this? Because it's been heavily implied that the old teams are barely in contact with one another. See: Velvet refusing to loop anyone in about the club and Coco stuck in the desert for a week. Second, why aren't they in contact, at least those who aren't on away missions? The entire group is acting as if changing teams means they're no longer allowed to be friends — family, as Coco puts it — when the relationship between Team RWBY and Team JNPR creates the opposite expectation right at the start of the series. Clearly, people from different teams can be close. Yatsu's worry that he might stumble using his semblance with new people is the only conflict that holds up here. Everything else has fairly straightforward solutions. Velvet needs to prove herself to new people. Yatsu needs to text Velvet if he's that worried about her. And Fox "having lost his family for a second time" is a pretty ridiculous exaggeration. You're attending the same school! Your family is still living down the hall if Vacuo has dorms like Beacon! In what world are these students unable to interact largely as they did before? They're acting as if the school has outright barred them from hanging out, rather than doing what will no doubt occur the moment they graduate: force them to work with different people. Just catch up with Fox over dinner! 

Honestly, this chapter is pretty short, I'm just continually bewildered by this story.

To get back to the actual plot, something trips a sensor the group has set up and Coco responds to the situation in what I think is both a smart and empathetic manner. Previous experience has taught her that it's likely just a lizard, so she doesn't want to wake up her team for no reason. Disagreements aside, she cares enough to let them rest — "They’d probably appreciate the extra sleep." However, if it's a "rare case of something she couldn’t handle alone" she'd immediately call for help. Great plan! It's not often in this novel that I feel like I enjoy the characters, but this little moment actually had me liking Coco. Which, yes, I realize is a complicated claim. Characters should test the reader to a certain degree, mirroring all the personalities we see in real life, including biased, mean, or contradictory people. It's often a good thing to write a character that your reader is frustrated with. That can be the point! The problem with Myers' writing is that it isn't the point. Coco, as the former leader of our heroes in this tale, should be someone we enjoy spending time with and her flaws should be the basis for growth, or an acknowledgement that she is an imperfect, but well-rounded person. As it stands, flaws in this novel just sort of... exist? They bop around in the RWBY universe with almost no acknowledgement from the narrative or other characters, leaving the reader with little to nothing to take away from the text. Is Coco correct in her judgement? Is this a bias she needs to work on? Is she putting on a facade and her natural instinct to care for her team is the real Coco hidden underneath? Who knows! She’s just frustrating to read about most of the time and nothing comes of that. 

Regardless, she heads out into the desert, using the night vision glasses Velvet made her. 

Now see, this would have been the perfect thing to introduce before Velvet was fixing relay towers after the expert was injured. Remember how I said the novel didn't do enough to establish Velvet's own expertise? Not that a pair of goggles is really comparable to fixing a communications issue, but it still would have gone some way towards convincing me that Velvet is this super impressive tech gal, capable of handling any and all situations that might come her way.

But no, we get this impressive display of skill after Velvet's knowledge was needed in a pinch. 

The glasses help Coco navigate the terrain, allowing her to both see in the dark and zoom in on things in the distance. This allows her to spot the six jackalopes that tripped the sensor, as well as the woman currently fighting them: Carmine, a villain from After the Fall that I know nothing about. Ah well. Note though what I said at the start, that Coco's dismissal of this assignment is based entirely in its supposed uselessness. Yet now here we have a pack of dangerous grimm and an enemy to content with.

Also, this is where Coco moves from kindly teammate to overconfident fool. She said she'd call for backup if she needed it... and she clearly needs it! From what I can gather, all of Team CFVY lost to Carmine last time they met up. But now she wants to risk fighting Carmine alone? Go get the others!

She doesn't, of course. Carmine doesn't notice Coco at first. She's talking about how she has to get back into the city. "He’s going to kill me if I’m not back to the Mirage in thirty."

As said, this also implies that Coco isn't nearly as far out as she initially suggested. If Carmine can feasibly finish this fight, cross the desert, navigate who knows how much of the city, and meet up with the mysterious "he" all in under half an hour, then Coco is patrolling pretty much right at the walls. AKA, the area that absolutely needs to be grimm free.

Luckily for those of us who are reading the books out of order, Myers gives a quick recap of Carmine's significance. Last book she had kidnapped Gus and "held off the combined might of Team CFVY in the desert” (oh hey, I was right), presumably escaping afterwards. Now here she is again, likely up to some new, nefarious deed. 

Our of curiosity, I googled to see what she looks like and... 

WHAT IS THAT OUTFIT? 

Coco watches as she works to keep on top of the six grimm, debating whether she should help or walk away, but when Carmine is taken unawares, Coco acts without thinking, throwing herself into the fray.

Sometimes decisions were like that—your body already knew what to do while your brain was still processing the situation. Only in this case, Coco’s body wasn’t necessarily the clearest judge of character. Her brain would have said that Carmine didn’t deserve her help.

Now see, this is a scene I can get behind. The entire RWBY-verse is based around a type of superheroism: people with unnatural abilities, fantasy weapons, and extensive training devote themselves to protecting the people from various threats. Yet too often RWBY fails to convince me that these people are actually heroic, taking the standard flaws of a character and unknowingly exacerbating them to the point where I think, "Is this meant to be a commentary on the anti-hero? Or a critical look at these fantasy formulas? Because we've got the elements of that here, but no indication that the authors realize they're writing something other than that standard story." But this? This works for me. Coco, as a huntress, is so conditioned to help others that her body responds instinctively to someone being in danger, regardless of who that someone is. She outright admits that if she'd had the chance to think about it she would have decided against helping Carmine. The fact that she recognizes this and move anyway says a lot of good about her. Well done, Coco!

We see later that Carmine probably didn't need the help, but between the two of them the grimm really don't stand a chance. What's interesting though is how chummy the two are while defending themselves. Coco comments on Carmine's tendency to talk to grimm (like she does) and Carmine freely offers information about her movements, the fact that she lost her other sword, and that her partner, Bertilak, needs to "recharge a little" before getting back in the game. Carmine asks Coco if she'd like to team up with her instead (she does not) and the two have a number of flirty exchanges to top things off:

“I’ve been dreaming of a rematch with you,” Coco said.

“You’ve been dreaming about me? I’m flattered.” Carmine winked.

***

“Hot date with the Crown?” Coco asked.

“Don’t be jealous, darling.”

I bring all this up not as a criticism of the buddy-enemy dynamic (it's a favorite of mine), but simply because of something that happens next. Before we get to that though, I admit that I am on the fence about the flirting. Given that I haven't read After the Fall (assuming this characterization exists there), I know that Coco is a lesbian mostly via RWBY cultural osmosis, rather than through the text. This is one of the few (the only?) times that I've gotten a hint at her sexuality, yet it's associated with predatory behavior. Carmine, her enemy, is the one who turns an angry dream into a flattering one, the hot date with the bad guy into something to be jealous of. I'm honestly struggling to remember what, if anything, Coco has had to say about women in this book — this is what comes of such slow recapping and I acknowledge that this is entirely my fault — but I'm nevertheless discomforted by knowing Coco's canonical status, knowing RWBY's struggles with queer rep, and then reading a scene where the most overt representation thus far is the bad guy twisting Coco's words into something sexual.

I'm no purist. Give me a good enemies-to-lovers fic any day of the week, but that doesn't mean that kind of dynamic is the best to pull from in a franchise already facing heavy criticism for its queer rep.

Especially since the moment the grimm are gone Carmine turns her sai on Coco.

This is the "something that happens next" that I referenced above. It's weird to have them attacking one another after a whole scene of pretty genuine companionship. Coco doesn't help Carmine as a consequence of defending herself, she willingly gets involved. They tease one another. Carmine appears to answer her questions honestly. There's both implied and overt references to how well they work as a team. Then, suddenly, Carmine is outright trying to kill Coco, not just with her sai but by burying her alive. It's not the sort of banter that Ruby and Roman used to engage in, trading fake compliments and, in Roman's case before his death, legitimate feelings while attacking one another. Nor is Coco prepared for an attack the moment the grimm are gone, and she's not surprised by it. It’s just this sudden change that feels rather jarring. 

Though it's far from the first time BTD has failed to convey the emotion of a scene. Here's another example rnow. As said, Carmine is attempting to bury Coco alive by moving the sand with her semblance. That's horrifying enough on its own, but remember that Coco is claustrophobic. Yet none of that panic shines through here. She comes across as indifferent throughout the attack, thinking back to summers when her brother tried to bury her while she sunbathed, amazed that she could ever consider this fun. You know who Coco sounds like in this scene?

At no point during this attack did I get the sense that Coco believes she’s in serious danger, let alone that she's struggling against a long-term phobia. The only time I even remembered that claustrophobia is meant to be a challenge for her is when she throws out the oh-so casual line, "One of her worst nightmares was being buried alive." Oh really? Because it doesn't seem like it! Coco is calm enough to remember that she used to be able to hold her breath for exactly three minutes and forty-two seconds. That doesn't feel like a character fighting against her worst nightmare.

So this scene isn't exactly compelling. Which is too bad because, as said, Coco as some other nice moments in this chapter.

However, during all this we do learn a little more about Carmine. Prior to getting trapped in the sand, Coco comments on how shockingly strong she is. "Carmine should have been at least a little bit worn down from fighting Grimm," but she's not, "She seemed nearly unstoppable now." Coco hits her full in the face, but she doesn't seem fazed. Earlier in the chapter there was that comment about how she previously took on Team CFVY alone and at the end of the battle Coco observes that Carmine "still seemed as fresh as she had at the beginning of the fight. How was she even doing that?" My basic reading comprehension skills tell me that this is setup for something, likely some change enacted by the Crown. Surely the text wouldn't put so much emphasis on Carmine's strength — have Coco questioning it to this extent, framing it as unnatural — unless we were going to get an answer, right?

But this is RWBY, so I'm not inclined to count my chickens before they hatch.

The rest of Coco's team arrives and it's then that she decides to pull the super dangerous stunt to free herself. Yeah, yeah, I get that she's suffocating and needs to do something now, can't wait to be dug out I suppose, but the timing is pretty ridiculous. The cavalry has arrived, yay! Time to blow myself up.

Seriously. She blows herself up. Using her own semblance, Coco focuses on one of her gravity dust bullets and detonates it, causing all the others in her arsenal to detonate too. It gets her out of the hole and "knocked her Aura down to a dangerously low level."

So... let’s see. Coco can literally detonate a bunch of explosives on her person, after suffocating under stand, after fighting Carmine, after fighting grimm, after a week long mission, and her aura doesn't break... but Yang's does from a single Neo slash?

Okay, RWBY.

Reese and Olive try to attack Carmine together, but end up eliminating one another's attacks. I like that a team actually has some realistic difficulties for once. Coco, however, is internally an asshole, calling them "idiots" and saying that they need to learn to coordinate their attacks. Thing is, she apparently hasn't done anything over the last week to help with that. She's been too busy complaining about Reese's clothes.

Carmine runs off as more grimm show up, drawn by Coco's non-existent panic. To her credit she does thank the others for saving her... but then immediately tries to downplay that. “It wasn’t a fair fight,” Coco spat when Reese (correctly) points out that she's the one who was ambushed. She also starts giving orders and when Reese (again, correctly!) goes to point out that she's the leader, Coco talks over her, saying they can't waste any more time out here because she has reason to believe that Shade has been compromised. She needs them only because she's out of bullets and low on aura, but they definitely need her because "let’s face it, I’m the best strategist around for miles."

Coco's a strategist?

And why does she sound like a villain trying to convince the heroes to work with her? She’s already part of the team!

Putting all that aside for the moment, we're back to this prideful characterization. I liked the well-rounded Coco from a few pages ago who balanced caring for her team with the likelihood of needing backup. Now she's flinching from the idea that she'd ever need help (hello, Sun characterization too) and snatching Reese's role the moment she's given the chance. So much for respecting her position. If the book wants me to believe that Reese is unfit to be leader and this is a golden opportunity for Coco to right a wrong... how about we actually show Reese being a bad leader?

Regardless, yay working together? The chapter ends with them presumably taking out the grimm before heading back to Shade, along with an important revelation. Prior to leaving, Carmine asked Coco why Yatsuhashi and Fox weren't rushing to her aid. It's only now that Coco realizes she didn't mention Velvet. Why? Perhaps because Carmine already knows where Velvet is, which obviously doesn't imply anything good.

And that's the end of Chapter Ten! Can you tell I never know how to finish these recaps? Describing cliffhangers doesn't have quite the same punch as, you know, actual cliffhangers. You all just have to suffer through my mediocre endings with me.

But would you look at that! Turns out the third attempt at writing this was the charm! :D

See you for Chapter Eleven! 💜

[unkownknowledge]

Genshin characters and their spider s/o

A little crossover HC post between terraformars and genshin.

Basically the reader is the result of a messed up experiment and now they look like a monstrous humanoid spider, like this guy:

Except you have no human skin or hair, just pure chitin, extra legs out the back, and mandibles(like a turian)

Also: request are still open, feel free to request!

Including: Jean, Xinqiu, and Razor

_____________________________

Jean: hollow knight

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Jean had been receiving reports of frightened merchants and townsfolk, all of whom had been found on the road ranting about a giant spider.

Jean was sure it was nothing more than hilichurls or hoarders or abyss mages and the people were merely suffering panic induced hallucinations, this was supported by the clear signs of such dangers at the scene of the crime.

But still, neither any of the knights nor adventurers in the guild reported saving these people, nor did Diluc claim that he did when she asked him.

So Jean decided to investigate, after all not only is there a chance of finding camps of the three above dangers, but also the chance of finding a new ally.

When she saw you in a clearing you looked like a normal human, until you turned your head in an inhuman manner and looked at her with eight red glowing eyes.

You screamed at her and used your geo vision to grow eight giant legs out your back, which you used to run away.

Jean, being the persistent woman she is, wasn't about let you go until she confirmed if you were a friend or foe.

She chased you through the forest for a while, and unfortunately didn't notice a group of hilichurls hiding behind some trees.

One swung out and struck her from behind, knocking her to the ground.

At the sound of this you turned around and saw Jean on the ground.

While she easily could have beaten the hilichurls, she didn't have to. This is because you were immediately next to her, sword drawn and slicing through the monsters like a hot knife through butter. Your geo legs acted like extra blades that parried any attack directed towards the knight.

Because you're other legs were busy, however, you were unable to block the attack from a crossbow that shot right through your knee.

You fell down and were beaten senseless by the hilichurls, the last thing you remember was the sounds of a blade and the monsters turning to dust before you blacked out.

You woke up on a soft bed inside an unfamiliar building. You tried to get up but your knee had a large hole in it, luckily for you your ability to feel pain was long lost.

Jean entered a minute later with some food, "good, your awake."

"Where am I?" You asked.

"In my home, the guest room to be exact."

"Why did you save me?"

"Because you were in danger."

"Yes but why? Aren't you afraid of me?"

"Considering how you saved me as well? No, not at all."

Jean poured some tea for both of you, "now onto-"

You felt your eyes water, something you didn't realize you could still do.

"What's wrong?" Jean asked.

"It's just, it's been so long since anyone was...nice to me. My appearance isn't exactly very welcoming."

"And yet you still help people, the same people who call you a monster?"

"Of course! I might be an abomination, but I'm not a monster. In fact, before I became...this I had always dreamed of joining the knights."

"Well, that makes things easy."

"What do you mean?"

"While I cannot officially make you a knight, I can make you an honorary member of the knights of favonius."

"REALLY!?" You said, a child like excitment on your face.

So you joined the knights, of course not everyone was happy about this.

But noone doubted the acting grand master's decision, after all she never once failed the city.

After a while the city warmed up to you, even hailing you as a hero thanks to all you've done!

But the city's attitude towards you wasn't the only thing getting warmer.

Infact, a certain person's cheeks seemed to grow red as Amber's ribbon at the mere mention of your name.

Lisa and Kaeya were the first to notice Jean's infatuation with you, and they were quite intent on helping her.

It would be easy for them to set it up: you were cold blooded, so you had a heater in your room during the winter, and thanks to a 'freak lightning strike', your house was under renovations for the whole season, this caused Jean to let you stay in her home until yours was repaired.

Now all they had to do was sneak in an 'cool it' down.

You awoke in the middle of the night due to the temperature suddenly dropping. You tried turning on your heater but that didn't work. You went downstairs to make some hot tea, unaware that Kaeya swapped the labels on Jean's coffee and your tea. After making the beverage you sat down in the warmest corner, covered in blankets, and with a warm drink in hand.

Fun fact! Spiders get hella drunk off caffeine.

You are a spider.

One sip of the coffee and you felt funny, you couldn't think straight and felt wobbly.

Kaeya and Lisa giggled watching you.

"So, how DID you get them drunk? You couldn't exactly have spiked their tea could you?" Lisa asked.

"I swapped the labels on their tea and Jeans coffee. Spiders get hella drunk on-" Kaeya noticed Lisa worried face, "fuck, what did I do this time?"

"Kaeya, spiders don't get drunk on caffeine like humans do with alcohol."

Lisa pointed Kaeya towards the window

"Whoops"

Caffeine doesn't make spiders drunk the same way alchohol does a person, which is what Kaeya expected.

Caffeine makes spiders hyper, very hyper.

When Jean heard skittering and clanging she thought someone was robbing the house, so she was reasonably surprised to see you lying in the center of the kitchen, crying, and with webs all over.

When she asked what happened you just rolled over and mumbled out gibberish about how you can't catch any flies.

Jean picked you up to take you to bed, but you wrapped your arms and legs around her and caused her to fall.

"(Y/n), please let me go." Jean pleaded.

You shushed her, "nap time" and fell asleep.

Your grip was to strong for her to get out, and with your weight she couldn't get up in this position, so she just had to wait for you to get up.

The next day Jean got up the same time as you, she would have said something if you didn't kiss her and pet her head.

"I love this dream." You said, nuzzling into the crook of her neck.

Jean was shocked, what dream? You were clearly awake.

"I wonder if Jean is this warm in real life....I wish I could find out..."

"(Y-y/n)" she stuttered out, "you're not dreaming."

You shot up with all your eyes wide as saucers.

You immediately thought of running. But where would you go? The forest? Yeah, that works, just go there a-

You felt a warm sensation on your cheek.

"So (y/n), how does this dream usually go?" Jean said with a suggestive wink.

.

.

.

"(Y/n)?"

404 error, reader.exe has crashed

After that rather unconventional confession session, you both started dating.

Jean was concerned about not having enough time for you, but that proved to be very unfounded. Thanks to your many years alone you didn't know what dating was, so to you simply working together was fine.

On every mission out of the city you would bring gifts or a picnic for when the sun was setting.

On days where you both had paper work you would make tea and buy little cakes or biscuits and sit on her lap as you rested on eachother's shoulders and fed each other snacks, under the excuse that "sharing a chair saves space".

On the rare occasion Jean gets to have a day off, she showers you in affection.

She'll make you breakfast in bed(it's not good 80% of the time, but you don't tell her), she'll cuddle with you all day, she'll even read to you if you want. She wants to give back to you for all the time she couldn't give you her full attention.

_____________________________

Xingqiu: it's like one of my Inazuman graphic novels

_____________________________

Your meeting with the guhua geek was far more coincidental.

You were just minding your business, catching some animals to eat, when some weird guy just walks by you, not noticing you at all, as he reads his book.

You were rather suprised and, by extension, curious about this boy.

Was he blind in peripheral? Was he that brave? Was he an idiot?

A bit of colum B, mostly colum C.

Xingqiu sat down on a rock and continued reading, given how he was reading aloud you figured you might as well take advantage of his lack of notice and learn to read.

But he did notice.

"Ah shoot, spaces out again." Xingqiu cried, "now I have to start all over."

Xingqiu started reading the book all over again, much to your joy.

You could easily match his words to the page thanks to your speed of comprehension.

When the boy noticed it was getting late he decided to head home, while you were upset you didn't try and stop him. In fact you immediately darted away before he saw you.

The next day he came back, and read from the same spot.

And again

And again

This went on for quite some time.

Xingqiu knew someone was watching him, but he never was able to catch a glimpse. He just figured it was someone who wanted to read legends of the shattered halberd but couldn't find any copies, and so the chivalrous thing to do would be to read it for them.

One day he finished the fifth book and proclaimed it was the last one, which made you rather sad.

Until he spoke to you.

"Well my secretive friend," he turned around, "shall w-"

You screamed

He screamed

For about five minutes.

After which you both just stared at eachother.

He pointed a shakey finger at you, "you're-"

You turned away, 'a freak I know' you thought.

"SO COOL!"

"What?"

Xingqiu immediately ran at you and started inspecting you.

The whole time he had such an amazed look on his face.

"Woah!" He said as he grabbed your mandibles, "are these real?!"

"Ye ey are, a ah ee e ah a" you said hoping he would understand that you need them to talk.

"Oh. Hehe. Sorry." He said releasing them.

"Aren't you...scared of me?" You asked.

"Why would I be? If you wanted to kill me you would have. It's not like I was particularly on guard when I was reading for you."

'Y-you knew I was there?"

"I knew someone was there, and I knew they were watching me read. Since you showed such interest in my book I thought the only chivalrous thing to do was to keep reading."

You were shocked, most people just ran and screamed upon seeing you.

"Now, shall we go look for the sixth book?"

After that you and Xingqiu became fast friends.

He used some of the money he made from the scam he pulled on that scammer to buy out the forest you lived in, making it officially private property so that people won't go after you.

He kept coming back with books for you both to read, you absolutely loved it!

And while you never realized it, you also loved him.

He however, did know he loved you.

Being the menace to society he is, Xingqiu decided the best way to confess was to just kiss you.

You're sitting on a stump with your head on Xingqiu's shoulder.

"This book isn't as good as the others." You say.

"Ah don't be like that, fairy tales are the foundation of all those 'knight in shining armor books' you love."

"Yeah but this is boring."

"True, true. But I think it has a great ending." Xingqiu turned to the final page, "and then the knight told the (royal title) how much he loved them, and to seal his love he placed a kiss on their cheek."

"That wasn't good."

"Why? It was very realistic."

"In what reality does someone confess by kiss-"

*smooch*

It took you a solid five seconds to process what happened.

Xingqiu smirked at you like the bastard man he is, "this one I believe."

Your mandibles hung slack as your face got a dark shade of blue.

"Uh, (y/n)?"

"Clothes off, now."

Xingqiu stumbled out the forest four hours later. Chongyun, who was protecting his privacy, asked him what's wrong.

"Absolutely nothing." He responded with the largest grin a human could muster, before his legs gave out, "can you carry me home?"

Your relationship was more steady than just that bit though.

Xingqiu spent as much time with you as he could, he even learned how to hunt so he could be with you while you hunted for food.

You never left your forest though, you were far to afraid of people and especially the vigilant yaksha(which Xingqiu tried to convince you was friendly).

Of course, not everything goes so simply.

Xingqiu was skipping through the forest, far to enamoured at the idea of you to notice someone following him.

You sat calmly on your rock and awaited your boyfriend of two years, today was his birthday so you made him a beautiful silk picture of his favorite scene from 'the legend of the broken halberd'

You felt the boy drop into your lap, "hello my love!"

You wrapped your arms and extra legs around him, "hello my little knight, I have a wonderful gift for-"

"XINQIU! WHAT THE HELL IS THAT!"

You both turned around to see a man who looked oddly like Xingqiu.

"H-hey big bro..." Xingqiu said, clearly nervous.

"You're his brother?" You asked, "nice to meet you! I'm your future sibling in law!"

His brother looked surprised, then angry, "Xingqiu, a word."

"No," he responded, "anything you can say to me you can say to my (s/o)."

"Xingqiu, this is not a game."

"ANYTHING," Xingqiu said, far more aggressive, "you can say to me, you can say to them."

His brother sighed, "you can't date them."

"I believe I can."

"XINGQIU! ME AND FATHER HAVE TOLERATED ENOUGH OF YOUR CHILDISHNESS! YOU ARE AN HEIR OF THE FEIYUN COMMERCE GUILD, YOU CANNOT DATE THAT-THAT THING!"

Xingqiu shot up into a fighting stance, "care to repeat that?"

Xingqiu stared down his brother with murderous intent.

"So you wont back down?"

"Never, I love (y/n) to much!"

"If you don't leave them, you'll be disowned by father, all your wealth, power, and influence will be forfeited. All for an inhuman freak!"

"Xinqiu please," you tried telling your beloved, "I won't let you sacrifice-"

"Sorry darling, but I don't give a damn." He interrupted you before turning to his brother, "I will NOT abandon my beloved (y/n)! They are the most precious thing in the world to me! So go ahead! Strip me if my title, my riches, of my very skin! My heart will yearn for nothing else but the cold hard touch of love that is my (s/o)!"

Xinqiu's brother smirked

"So, you promise to always be with (y/n)?"

"Yes!"

"Through both sickness and health?"

As smart as he was, Xinqiu couldn't see what was happening, "with all my heart and soul!"

"And you would take (Y/N) as your contractually bound spouse?"

"I would sooner bite my arm off than live another day without them as such! In fact!" Xinqiu turned to you, "(Y/N)! WE'RE GOING TO GET MARRIED RIGHT NOW! COME ON!"

"Hold it!" His brother demanded, "(Y/N)! Would you stay with my brother, Xinqiu, through sickness and health, through rags and riches?"

You nodded, "forever and always!"

"And would you take him to be your contractually bound husband?"

"E-even if I had to fight Rex Lapis himself!"

Two burly hands grabbed the couple and pushed them together, "You may now kiss the bride!"

Without thought, you two kissed each other, not thinking to question the cheering, clapping, and crying-

You both pulled apart, "what the abyss is happening here?!"

The burly arms, now wrapping you both, was an older crying man who also looked like Xinqiu.

Xinqiu's Brother was crying and clapping.

Chongyun was blasting off party cones(🎉🎉these things)

And several other of Xinqiu's friends were there celebrating.

"W-wait..." Xinqiu started to remember that his brother, as a high ranking member of a commerce guild, can officiate marriages.

The older man, Xinqiu's father, cried and said, "finally! Grandchildren!"

(If you can't have babies, adoption exists and is perfectly normal)

Needless to say

404 error, Xinqiu.exe and Reader.exe have stopped working

_____________________________

Razor: the big bad spider and the itsy bitsy spider

_____________________________

(Please understand that my knowledge of Razor is based on his quest, I know of his special vision but it won't be brought up for this. I will be sure to read the wiki page for him if I write him again)

Razor knew something was wrong.

His wolf side told him something was wrong with the forest, and his human side told him it should be either avoided at all cost or destroyed.

Because it had stayed away he had largely tried to just avoid it and keep his lupical away from whatever IT is.

Until a foolish pup decided to try and defeat whatever big bad monster had their protector so scared.

Razor ran faster than any lightning bolt upon hearing the news.

Razor didn't know what he was seeing: giant webs strewn out covering entire trees, boars and Hilichurls wrapped in webs and frozen in a sickly green.

And at the center of it all was a giant, monstrous creature with eight leg like roots coming from it's back, feeding off the life of all the creatures stuck here.

This is what he was afraid of, the beast that every inch of his primal self screamed to get away from.

But he couldn't, not until he found the pup!-

"Hello." You said calmly to the strange man coming into your home, "is this your's?"

You outstretched your hand and a sleeping pup drifted towards razor on a flower.

"He caused lots of problems, so I made him sleep. Don't worry, it's nothing permanent, give him an hour or two and he'll be right up."

After Razor left, you assumed that would be the last disturbance for a while.

But it wasn't.

Razor's wolf half still feared you, was still mortified when he pictured your spider like face, your towering body, everything.

But his human half...teembled.

Not in fear, but in a different way.

He couldn't stop thinking of you, and his primal upbringing did little to quell the less romantic thoughts about your gem like eyes, the way your mandibles clicked and moved when you talked, the overwhelming nature energy that you radiated.

But he still knew good enough to get to know you better.

Just not HOW to do it.

"Why are you spider?"

Is not a good first thing to ask.

But you explained regardless: you were taken as a kid and experimented on by some rogue students from Sumeru academy.

Then some purple lady rescued you, and while you were grateful you much preferred living out in the wild.

"Yes...wild is good! Wolvendom, especially good!"

Someone please help him.

"Purple lady....ah! Shockey wizard lady from knights?"

You nodded

"Razor good friends with her and honorary knight! Do you know red flamy girl?"

"Klee? Oh yes! I love her! She's such a nice kid!"

"Yes, Klee is like lupical! Even if she...burns down forest from time to time."

Lucky for him, your shared familial love for the pyromaniacal minor helped bridge the gap between you two.

Eventually he even got you to leave your grotto(?) And meet his lupical!

He introduced you to the wonders of actually eating rather than just sucking the life force out of animals.

You both love and protect the forest of wolvendom, and if any large threat arises to it then you both will fight fang and claw to protect your home!

Neither of you know what love is in the human sense, but you both feel it to each other and act upon it: giving each other a portion of your food, taking blows in battle for each other, and cuddling more intimately than just friends would.

You are his lupical, and so much more.

_____________________________

I started this near last year's end, it took me till now to realize I should only do 3 characters.

(Paging: @golden-wingseos, @storytravelled)

[sweeethinny]

DUDE WHATTT!!!! I just read ur jilly reacting to hinny first kisss. Dude it was amazingg. But imagine if jilly were alive and James finding out that his daughter in law got a contract to be a professional quidditch player. HE WOULD FREAK. If u have the time pleaseee write thisss.

OMG thank yooou, i love Jily so much, and i love write them alive!

i hope you liked <3

-----------

It was early August when the Potter decided that they needed to take a vacation, James claimed that it had been so busy years and that they almost never took advantage of the Boat he bought almost five years ago, when he started to take an interest in the subject and see various programs who were dedicated to naval practice

"Does your dad really think he can do it?" Ginny asked as soon as she finished closing her bags, smiling at Harry lying on her bed, sprawled as he waited, arms crossed behind his head and following her with his eyes

''He found a pilot. After my mother convinced him, of course, that he would hardly know how to fly a boat just by watching TV shows''

The two had been dating for a while, since the end of Harry's fifth year, and Ginny had been practically adopted by the Potter family, who included her in absolutely every outing, dinner and any celebration.

Lily and she spent hours talking in the greenhouses, sometimes the mother-in-law said about how the studies she had been doing had been improving and giving results, and that it would not be long before the patients who  wounds caused by curses, finally healed. Sometimes they just talked about trivial things, like the gift Harry had bought her, or some gossip they heard.

James was also a big fan, Ginny suspected even more than Harry, hers. They flew and played almost every vacation, and the father-in-law made sure to include her in everything related to Quidditch, always reminding her how good Ginny was.

"Even more than I was, and I was considered one of the best of that time"

So traveling with the Potter was not something new, but traveling with them in the same week that might or might not arrive at the letter that would tell she about the final decision on her contract with the Harpies was too much.

''You'll be accepted, I don't know why you're so nervous'' The two of them had just stepped into the Mansion - even though Harry insisted it wasn't one - and Ginny could barely count the anxiety that was eating at her bones, rhythmically tapping her fingers against the thigh and trembling feet when sitting

''Because everything can go wrong. If they think not ...''

''..They liked you'' Harry stated, squeezing her shoulders and forcing her to stop ''Everything will be fine''

Then, the four embarked for the trip to the port, Lily drove spectacularly well, laughing and having fun with the songs that played on the radio, pretending not to notice how restless her daughter-in-law was, who spent more time looking out the window than playing along with James.

''I think all of this will be good .. We need time out of communication. Of course owls can still find us, but only the most important matters'' Lily smiled in the rearview mirror, winking at the redhead in the back seat.

As soon as they arrived on the boat - named Euphemia, in honor of James' late mother - Ginny thought she would throw up right there, before they started moving through the calm, clean waters. The fear of being rejected and not being able to join any team, made her lose sleep and become more and more anxious, which made Harry worried and spent the nights by her side, talking and telling stories that she had already heard but who asked again just to distract her mind and laugh at  boyfriend.

When they started the real boat trip, she felt calmer.

The island they were going to stay on was wonderful, with clear, calm waters, and a sun that made Ginny have to wear sunscreen every hour. But it was totally worth it.

The boat ride was also magnificent, with all that wind in her face, the feeling of freedom and happiness that made her forget the tests she had done six months ago, and the most beautiful landscape she had ever seen in her life.

''I said, Lils, buying that boat was the best way to invest the money '' James said as they prepared to jump into the water, with Muggle equipment needed so they could dive deeper and deeper into the water kingdom who lived there (the pilot would never let them jump with only they bathing suits on, and Lily forbade them to bewitch the poor boy so they could use magic)

"Do you feel better?" Harry asked her as soon as they sat down to lunch, the sun at the top of the sky and the birds singing everywhere; the table was full of light, delicious foods that would not make them throw up as soon as the boat started up again, and Ginny almost moaned when she tasted the salad that Lily made with mango and pineapple.

"Yep’’ And it was true.

[...]

On Sunday morning, Ginny almost jumped out of bed when an owl hit her and Harry's bedroom window. The boyfriend was still sleeping peacefully, too tired from the past few days, much more tan than he had a week ago, and looking even more handsome. Already she had a beautiful burnt shoulders, in addition to the red cheeks that her boyfriend said made she look like a cute child.

“Mrs. Wealey.

It is with great pleasure that we inform you that Holyhead Harpies is honored to announce that Ginevra Molly Weasley, 18, is officially part of the team, and that, if she agrees, the new member should pass by the Human Relations office without fail for effect the hiring until Tuesday, 08 of 1999 ...... ''

They accepted her

''Gin?''

''I came in'' She was still gaping at the letter ''I came in Harry'' And then her realized, dropping the long letter with all the rules and terms, she started jumping with joy, smiling from ear to ear '’I was accepetd’’

After the celebrations with Harry, which were based on many congratulations from him, and sex, the two left the room. The in-laws were in the kitchen, James seasoning the fish they had caught the night before, while Lily prepared a dessert pie. Ginny had always thought that the fact that her boyfriend was an incurable romantic came from having parents like that.

Molly and Arthur were in love with each other, there was no doubt, but Ginny always admired the way James treated Lily, always zealous, making sure she had everything she needed around her, paying attention whenever she started talking, as if Lily was the only person in the world.

''Urgh, you guys give me a toothache'' Harry kissed his mother's head as soon as she noticed them both, smearing his finger with stuffing and licking it, and running when Lily tried to hit him with a wet towel for touching the food

''How are you? I saw that an owl arrived earlier today ... any problem?'' James asked, without looking at any of them, focusing on the knife he used to clean the animal in front of him

''A letter from the Harpies arrived'' And as if Ginny said she had won the lottery, her in-laws turned to look at her, eyes wide.

''And ...?'' James looked more anxious than Harry, when she told him that she had entered

''You are talking to the newest player, reserve, from the Holyhead Harpies team'' She could barely contain her smile, almost jumping with joy again. Saying it out loud made everything more and more real.

''Oh Merlin! Ginny this is amazing!'' Before Lily arrived at the daughter-in-law, James ran over her, passing in front and hugging the girl with all enthusiasm

''I knew you could do it, I knew it! I told Sirius, you play so well! Jones would be being blind if she didn't accept you on the team. Oh dear, have you told your parents yet? Harry, we need to have a party when we get back! We will all wear green, in her honor'' He spoke without stopping, looking at her with happiness ''Now I will have to cheer for the Harpies, I cannot be against my daughter-in-law'' Ginny knew she was red, but it was impossible to try to hide enthusiasm when James was like that ''I knew, since Harry told us that you had learned to fly alone, I said that you would still play professionally ... Oh Merlin, we need to celebrate''

''James dear, don't choke her'' Lily pushed her husband away, and Ginny could see that she and Harry were laughing, looking amused by the moment ''I'm so happy, I saw you were nervous earlier, but I didn't want to meddle ... You will look so beautiful in green''

After the hugs, James decided that they shouldn't spend time cooking, and that he certainly wasn't seasoning that fish properly, so they went out to eat, in a restaurant not far away.

''Your father looks happier than me'' She whispered to her boyfriend when they got home and saw that, somehow, they had ordered a cake decorated in Harpy colors and with her name on top

''He loves you a lot more than he loves me .. You had to see it when I told him I asked you to date''

''I think he'll fall back when we have a son'' Harry laughed, kissing her head and nodding

''You know, you're the daughter he never had ... I don't doubt that he would trade me for you. For free'' James came back from the kitchen, Lily and him seeming to discuss what the best drink for the celebration, if wine, beer or Champagne

"To Ginny! The future star of the Holyhead Harpies'' They toasted - each with a chosen drink.

And Ginny was happy that, on that rainy afternoon in her fourth year, she was in detention with Harry. Because she would certainly never find a second family better than that.

[lukeios]

The plot holes of Eldarya

Hello wonderful people of Eldarya fandom! Along with some other players we have prepared a little something for you: The list of all the plot holes in the first season of Eldarya. 

The list has over 2000 words in total. I am so, so proud of us and I would love to give special thanks to @aokane-eldarya who wrote probably over 1/3 of this by herself! Everyone who participated is tagged, so make sure you check out their blogs! 

And of course, before we start: this is not an attack on Beemoov - it’s merely a critic of their writers. More under the cut. 

@kyriechristeeleison

- Chrome surviving Leiftan's attack. Leiftan isn't an amateur killer and wouldn't let him stay alive.

- Game said Leiftan never kills children and yet the next episode he tries to kill Chrome.

- Chrome saying he contacted Leiftan, event though the other episode informed us he "summoned" him. 

@cintanna-rants

- A plot hole between Valkyon's spin-off and the game. In the spin-off, he dreams about his mother even though in the game he couldn't have seen her at that point. 

- During the Leiftan & Erika vs Lance fight in the last chapter, Lance acts like he thinks Erika is just a simple human, yet in chapter 26 he fainted precisely because he discovered she was an aengel and thought he knew why Leiftan wanted her.

- Leiftan “sacrifices” to tell Valkyon about Lance’s weakness (a neck injury). None of this is mentioned in the last battle nor ever again. Why did Leiftan sacrifice for then? What was the point of making him betray his pact with Lance and risk his life if that info doesn’t matter? 

@aokane-eldarya

- Leiftan threatens Lance to kill him, as well as all the other members of his race, if he hurts Erika: not only does he do nothing when Lance kidnaps Erika (while we have the proof in episode 30 that Leiftan is still able to subdue Lance), but Valkyon is the only other dragon in existence.

- By extension, he didn't react as expected (if we refer to his personality) to the story of the potion.

- Leiftan who is the demon of the crystal: he was able to act normally while having a part of his mind threatening the Oracle, which is absurd (nonrespect of the principle of the cost of use of magic ). During his imprisonment, Miiko talks about the fact that the corruption stopped suddenly and Leif explains that he stopped because Erika suffered from it. If Leiftan had had the power to stop the corruption caused by the Naytili crystal (and therefore, by someone other than him), he would have done it immediately since he knew from the start why she was suffering. In any case, it was not Leiftan who stopped corruption, it was the use of the Fenghuang flute.

- Leiftan tells Erika that he did it all for her. But the fact is that he started acting before Erika arrived on Eldarya and she doesn't think it's strange. 

- In the spin-off, Leiftan says he will respect that Erika doesn't follow him, suggesting that he will pursue his goal. In the end, as soon as Erika holds it against him, he decides to abandon his projects and accept his "mistakes". The funny thing is that it's been weeks, even months that we know what Erika thinks, he could have given up before.

- Episode 30, the "Lance VS Erika and Leiftan" confrontation. The writing suggests that Lance doesn't know Erika's race, which is wrong. It will also be noted that Lance didn't think of using the dragon spell that had allowed him to imprison Leiftan the time he came to destroy the crystal.

- In episode 15, the history teacher tells us that the daemons refused to sacrifice themselves.

- Then thanks to Fafnir, we learn that, in reality, Lilith and her supporters were for the sacrifice, Dagon and his supporters were against; they killed each other.

- Episode 30, Erika says that she and Leif must sacrifice themselves because their ancestors refused to sacrifice themselves.

- It will also be noted that hundreds of dragons sacrificed themselves for the Blue Sacrifice, but that it lacked just the equivalent of a daemon / aengel for the vegetables to be nutritious.

- Erika who doesn't remember that Dagon was one of the daemons invoked by Naytili

- Leiftan had a redemption. When he died, there was a white feather. Leiftan should have fought with his angelic aspect and not only with his demonic aspect.

- Depending on the situation, the terms aengel and daemon are used either to denote the same thing or to denote two different things.

- Lance refers to Erika and Leiftan by saying "the aengel and the daemon", even when Erika says to her "I am a daemon".

- Ezarel fights with a foil, a training weapon that cannot hurt. He uses it as thrusting and cutting weapon whereas it is only a thrusting weapon.

- The Guard sends civilians to unprotected villages; Lance just had to go there to use them as leverage.

- Lance, who is experienced, attacks by arriving by sea, a disadvantageous position because exposed, to arrive on a beach in a basin with only one narrow exit, with then the optic of crossing a meadow also exposed. The Guard decided it would be funnier if it got stuck on the beach itself.

- Lance is ready to negotiate: he agrees to allow the Guard to evacuate the faerys on Earth (The same faerys he wants to destroy). The famous faerys which are not there because evacuated in the villages. It will also be noted that suddenly the total population of Eldarya is reduced to only the inhabitants of the Guard.

- Lance donated ingredients for two gates: two gates to evacuate hundreds of people. I thought it was too expensive per person.

- Lance sent Enthraa, a mermaid who can't get out of the water, to kill Erika and Miiko ; Erika and Miiko thought it would be a good idea to be within the range of Enthraa.

- In episode 30, the hamadryads meet around the ancient tree of Yvoni. The same tree that had burned and the remains of which had been removed.

- One day, Leiftan and Lance released a monster who swallowed all the knowledge of the library. We still don't know why.

- Everyone knows that the dragons have sacrificed themselves. Even Lance. It was while reading books in the library that his hatred developed, suggesting that there is information that we don't have about the Blue Sacrifice. We still don't know this info: Lance just seems to blame the faeries for letting the dragons sacrifice themselves, nothing else.

- How did Lance and Leiftan become partners? We don't know. Why does Leif say that without him Lance is nothing? We don't know.

- How did Ykhar know that Leiftan was a traitor? Where did the hostage go?

- Ykhar and Chrome who tell an experienced killer that they are going to report him.

- Chrome who says that Leiftan manipulated him to join him whereas, in a previous episode, Leiftan reminds Chrome that it was he who called him.

- Some members of the Guard speak several languages, but no one can read the instructions on a package of pasta. And since Erika seems to have no idea where the language is located, it must be a package of alien pasta.

- Ewelein was to give us a gift. We are still waiting.

- The faerys had recent humans books, like Twilight. Ykhar didn't know what television was: yet, her favorite book was Barjavel's " The Night of Time", in which we talk about television.

- Oluhua said that it was not possible to use Leiftan's blood to transfuse Feng Zifu, without explaining why. She was not on Leiftan's list of traitors, so we still don't know what Oluhua knows.

- Miiko announces to us that there is a ritual acting as a lie detector. She must have forgotten its existence when she had to find the traitors of the Guard.

- Erika learned to understand the familiars. She quickly forgot about it.

- Erika is described as a high school student in the CGU. In the story, she is around 23-24 years old since she finished her studies.

- the Guard claimed to be able to detect dragons. Lance and Valkyon are proof that this is not true.

-  Nevra, as a vampire, is able to smell blood from a small cut. Her sister was unable to smell the blood in Ykhar’s room.

@lukeios

- (Death TW) Ykhar's death and her body looking pale after 2-3 days in the room. Total disregard for research. The body should be in stage 2 of decomposition.  

- The clothing and armors. Dressing a warrior into an armor that shows stomach - the most vulnerable part of the body - is somehow inappropriate, even for a fantasy setting. If they had other clothing used for battles OR the game would be pure fanservice - it would be ok.

- For some reason Lance's sword from The winter illustration seems like too much. It looks too broad, like a piece of a metal wall. It doesn't seem like it would be useful in a fight - it seems way too hard to use that thing than it would be necessary. Mind you - if something like this is happening in a fantasy setting, an explanation is mandatory. Is the sword extremely light? Is it made of a material that is changing shape? This point isn't exactly only about the sword. Beemoov keeps on throwing things at us without a proper explanation and if the explanation is even present, it's not explored enough. 

- Our pet is killed in episode 30. Does it change anything in the page section of pets? Is the exploration frozen? I don't think so. 

@waywardpeachworld

- Stealing food from Earth for many years without a way to preserve it. Not making a connection with any humans because "they are evil".

- Miiko told the MC there are humans in Eldarya who are searching for her. Where did they go?

- The potion fiasco. What happened to all the photos of the MC? Aren't her parents wondering "who is this girl who looks like us?" in the albums?   (according to an anon, the potion was able to erase any proof of her existence on Earth. No photos were left. Thanks, Anon! )

-They can make very powerful potions that literally erase somebody from the memory of everyone who had known them in a different realm but still cannot make a “potion” to preserve the crops they steal. 

- Ez's crimes were mentioned once and never again. This information seemed too important to just be left alone.

@glassmoonfortuneteller

- How at the beginning of the game, they mentioned us several times Erika’s special eye color (purple with golden light) and how this was an important clue to know what kind of faelienne she is. It’s never mentioned again even after we found out she’s an aengel. Apparently it wasn’t that relevant.

- How the guard has a portal to Earth near the HQ facilities but Erika never seemed interested in it to go and see it for herself since she arrived at Eldarya, especially since she was determined to know everything about the portals when she still had hope of going back to her world during the first episodes.

- When Lance kidnapped Erika, she finds out Enthraa is a traitor and that she’s working for him. After she’s rescued and goes back to the HQ, she doesn’t say this to the other members. They found out about it only when Enthraa ambushed Erika and Miiko in later episodes and gets killed.

- How food was rationed and limited at the beginning of the game, but in later episodes this doesn’t seem to be a problem anymore.

- How Lance said he found out about the sacrifice of the dragons in the library archives, but during Erika’s history classes in the HQ they said there weren’t any records about the blue sacrifice and all they knew was passed down through generations through oral traditions and tales. If that’s true, then Lance and Valkyon would have known about it since they were kids with adults telling them about the stories of the creation of Eldarya.

- What happened to Marie Anne after she was captured and purified of the faerie blood? She’s not mentioned again after that.

- Humans in Eldarya were mentioned once, and that’s it.

- How Erika is characterized as a very kind and empathic person but didn’t seem affected when she found out Ykhar was killed.

- How Leiftan was the one who killed Ykhar since he was with Erika and the other guard members in Memoria the whole time.

- Alajea’s fear of water is not a thing anymore.

- Why Erika took Valkyon leaving with Lance as a betrayal, she was right there when that happened and saw that he did it to protect her. 

@nelielombrelune

- Miko told us dragon’s ingrédients were necessary to open portals, but later she finally said those weren’t really “dragon” stuff but they called it like this because, you know, everything there is a mess.

- Humans were supposed to be a threat on Eldarya (Miiko mentioned secret societies like Illuminatis, Templars or Freemasons but we’ve never heard about them anymore)

- There is no real food in Eldarya and the Guard has to open portals to Earth to steal foodstuffs for Eels survival. They don’t know how to cook and eat raw pasta in the firsts episodes but a few episodes later they throw tea-parties where Karuto & Erika bakes crepes and cakes. 

- In episode 20, Leiftan says he's been waiting for Erika for years. Except that he does not seem to know who she is, nor her species or where she comes from, how she came here, nor her connection to the Oracle...

- When we’re in Ashkore PoV he said his ancestors killed the daemons

- Once upon a time we had to choose a “job” (infirmary, library, and I don’t remember the third one), but we never hear about it in the next episodes.

- On the illustration where Leiftan saves Erika from falling off the cliff, his wings are white, he’s got only 2 and his horns have disappeared 

- In episode 30 Lance calls Erika “the human” though he knows she’s an aengel

- What about the war ? Lance killed his brother, Erika and Leiftan sacrificed themselves and then what ? Did Lance just leave after all the time he tried to destroy Eldarya ?

- “In episode 29 Miiko (I think it was her) says that they will have enough water for everyone because they filter rainwater but in episode 19 someone has said that it barely rains in Eldarya...”

@momiyi-chan

- Three enemies of Eldarya (Triades, Illuminati, and Templars) are mentioned but never make any appearance. It is said the Templars are trying to get MC to rescue her. Where are they?

- Until episode 20 the Guard was looking for the pieces of the crystal, that were scattered on Eldarya. That was never mentioned again. Crystal became irrelevant.

- Who taught Naytili to corrupt the crystals? Leiftan and Lance were very interested in learning that skill, but it was never touched again.

@hsakurausasuke

- Mary Anne is still rooting in prison. It's like she disappeared.

@velleitxs

- Erica cannot decide if she is an aengel or a human with the blood of an aengel

@susymei 

- Episode 15, we never learned the consequences of telling or not telling the Guard, that Ashkore was stealing food in the HQ. 

- Ashkore doesn’t kill Huang Hua because Erica likes her, and yet he wants to kill her few episodes later. 

- Episode 26. We can kind of flirt with Lance. There is some tension on the cliff (if you pick right choices) and he protects us from the heat of the volcano. The episodes afterward completely forgot about those choices - it’s like Episode 26 never happened. 

@valethari

- The episode in which Gardienne becomes a mermaid to go back from the Kappa Island to the HQ: She almost drowns and her S/O saves her and carries her up the stairs to the infirmary effortlessly and princess-style. When Colaïa was the one in the dungeon and Karen, Alajéa and Gardienne tried to bring her to the sea again, they said she was SO heavy because her tail is pure muscle, and between THREE people they had a lot of trouble carrying her.

Well, that was pretty long! Thank you for reading all of those! Have a nice weekend guys and stay healthy <3 

[fan-fantasies]

Weakness

A/N: hey guys! I hope you like this piece for Sigtryggr! There will be some spoilers for season 4 so don’t read if you haven’t seen past like episode 5 or 6. Destiny is all! -Heather

Summary: you’ve had a secret relationship with Sigtryggr for a while but the feeling of being hidden starts to eat away at you. Plus, you have a big secret you’ve been meaning to tell him. But what happens when you hear him saying that a wife and kids makes a man weak? Will there be hope for your relationship or will victory always come first?

Pairing: Sigtryggr x Reader

Warnings: mentions of death, pregnancy, general angst

Masterlist

Part Two

You sat in the young queen’s chamber in the palace at Winchester. You thumbed through the luxurious clothes and jewels that she had collected. The halls outside the door were quiet but you knew that wasn’t going to last.

You jumped as the door opened revealing Sigtryggr. He closed the door behind him and flashed you a sweet smile.

“I thought I might find you here, hidden away from the celebrations,” he said. He sat next to you on the bed and took your hand in his.

“I’ve had my fill of ale for a while. I’m just waiting for the Saxons to come and reclaim their fallen kingdom,” you admitted. He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. 

“And when they come, we will talk. I wish for no more bloodshed than has already occurred. If they want to fight, then we will fight, but I’m hoping it will not come to that.” 

“But what if-” 

“There’s nothing to worry about, my love. No harm will come to you,” he said. 

“It’s not me I’m worried about,” you whispered. He placed a sweet kiss on your forehead and sighed. 

“You know that this life is not guaranteed. Death can take us at any moment. Try not to worry about something you cannot control. The Gods will not lead us astray,” he told you. You conceded with a nod and a sad smile. 

The thought of losing him was always too much to bare but loving him was worth every moment of anxiety. No one knew that the two of you were together for your safety, or so he claimed. You had picked him up after his defeat in Ireland and helped him come to a new land and find wealth. You knew that other Danes talked about the two of you, often calling you his whore. 

Maybe that was true. You were not his wife, you had given him no children. There was no commitment to you other than knowing that he would find you most nights and slip into your bed. 

He left you that evening to go back and plan strategies for when the Saxons would return. And return they did. They stormed the gates and were met with defeat. You stayed within the palace walls but you could hear the cheers of the men returning from the walls. The boy king was thinking irrationally and you had seen firsthand how that can lead to a man’s demise. 

“(Y/N), Sigtryggr is asking for you,” one of his warriors called to you. You made your way to the main hall where you found the ever-happy man that held your heart. 

“You called for me?” The words had no sooner left your mouth when you were pulled into his arms and into a passionate kiss. You responded immediately by wrapping your hands in his hair and giving it a tug. He growled in response and nipped at your bottom lip. Victory always excited him and you knew where this was going. 

He sat you up on a table and stood between your legs. His hand traveled between your bodies but you were both snapped back to reality when you heard someone clear their throat. Sigtryggr pulled away from you immediately and left you feeling cold. 

Haesten stood there with a huge grin on his face. 

“Please, don’t stop on my account,” he chuckled. “I always knew there was something special about you.” He pointed to you and winked. You stood up and brushed your dress down. 

“What is it, Haesten?” Sigtryggr asked, standing in front of you to shield you from the other man’s hungry gaze. 

“The Saxons are planning to fire the walls, burn this place to the ground. We need to do something to prevent that from happening,” he said. Sigtryggr nodded and paused to think. 

“We show him his heir. We show him what he has to lose if he burns this place down. That should hold them off long enough to prep the walls for a fire attack. Haesten, go to the gate and start the preparations. I’ll get the boy.” Haesten nodded and left. Sigtryggr turned to you and pressed a kiss to your lips. “This isn’t over.” 

“I know,” you smiled. “Go. Negotiate. Show everyone what a fantastic leader you are. Be strong.” 

“You are my strength,” he whispered with his forehead pressed to yours. He kissed you once more before going off to fetch Edward’s heir. You left the hall shortly after and nearly shrieked when someone grabbed your arm. 

“Haesten? What are you doing?” You asked. 

“Does he know?” He questioned. 

“Know what?” You yanked your arm from his grasp and took a step back. 

“About the babe,” he said gesturing to your stomach. You arms quickly wrapped around your torso to cover your belly. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you gasped. 

“It’s the tits.” He winked before walking away. Something had been feeling off lately and you wondered if he was right. You cradled your stomach and tried to calm your heartbeat. How would Sigtryggr react? Most Danes wanted to have as many children to carry on their name as possible but he was different. He never showed interest in having a wife, never mind a child. 

You decided that you wanted to see what happened with Edward and the heir so you went to the wall. You stood hidden away from wandering eyes as you watched Sigtryggr stand before the Saxon king with the two boys. 

Edward approached with his men behind him.

“Give me my children or I will find yours and take their eyes,” Edward threatened.

“I have no children. Nor a wife. This is why I’m stronger than you,” Sigtryggr replied. Your heart sank into your stomach when you heard his words. You realized then that he would never make you his wife nor would he want the child growing inside of you.

You heard nothing else that was said, it was as if time was frozen. You rushed from the ramparts and back to the palace. Haesten saw you leave and he almost felt bad. Almost.

You gathered some of your things from the room you settled in and threw them in a bag. You armed yourself a dagger and your ax before setting off to find food for your journey. You had heard of other Danes living in East Anglia so you figured that would be your best bet. You’d even settle with Saxons if that meant you could keep you and your babe safe.

You knew you had to hide somewhere until you could leave under nightfall. Sigtryggr would certainly be looking for you to finish what was started earlier but you couldn’t bare to face him. You couldn’t be the cause of his weakness.

You grabbed bread and fruit, shoving them into your bag. You had to figure out how to get out without anyone seeing you. You’d just have to lay in wait for your opportunity.

You found refuge in a small abandoned house near the gate. You didn’t have to wait long before smoke was filling the air. You heard pounding at the gate before it was broken down. Fighting soon began right outside the door of your little safehouse. You waited until the fighting had progressed inward to take your leave.

You slowly opened the door, peering out to make sure no one was looking. Satisfied that everyone was preoccupied with the fight, you ran. You ran through the gate and past the bodies laying lifeless on the ground. You saw horses tied to a tree and figured stealing one wouldn’t do too much damage.

You were unfamiliar with the area but you knew that you’d find a village eventually. From there you could find a way to other Danes.

You didn’t look back at the smoke filled kingdom. You knew that there was nothing but pain there for you. So you rode through the night, only stopping to water your horse and eat something to keep your strength up.

You eventually stumbled upon a nunnery. The women were weary of you at first but you promised you meant them no harm, you were just seeking safe passage.

They fed you and allowed you to rest there for a bit before directing you to the nearest Dane settlement. Apparently they had been living in agreed peace for some time much to your surprise. You decided to stay with the nuns for a bit longer, not ready to face your own people.

Back in Winchester, the dust had settled and the smoke cleared. Sigtryggr and the royal siblings were working to come to a deal that satisfied all sides. Unable to come to a compromise for the first few hours, they decided to take a break.

Sigtryggr went first to the queen’s chamber where he thought you might be. When he didn’t find you there, he went to the reading room. Empty, he sought out a warrior who he knew you were familiar with.

“Can you fetch (Y/N) for me?” He asked.

“I haven’t seen her, lord,” the man told him.

“Well can you try to find her for me?” Sigtryggr signed. The man nodded and set off to find you. Sigtryggr sat on a bench with his head in his hands. He wasn’t sure he was ready to be the Dane to break the feud between Saxon and Dane. He needed you to calm him down, to reassure him that he was doing the right thing.

“You seem uneasy, lord,” Haesten said as he entered the room. Sigtryggr ignored him- he didn’t have the energy to deal with Haesten right now. “Missing your wife? Oh wait, you don’t have a wife.”

“What are you on about?” Sigtryggr finally asked.

“(Y/N), I assumed you knew she had left by now. I don’t think she took too kindly to your little speech earlier,” Haesten chuckled.

“She left the palace?”

“She left Winchester, lord. Took your babe with her too,” the gruff man smirked. Sigtryggr felt like he was going to be sick.

“You knew and you let her leave?!” Sigtryggr charged at Haesten and pinned him to the wall.

“She’s not my responsibility. She’s not my wife, nor is she yours.” Sigtryggr let the man go as he stormed out of the room. He went into the garden and found Uhtred who was talking with Edward and Aethelflaed.

“Uhtred, I need your help. You know the land, I need you to help me find someone. Forget Ethelwich. Keep it. I will keep my land in Wales and a portion of East Anglia if you accompany me, Uhtred,” Sigtryggr said. The three looked at each other and nodded.

“Yes, this sounds agreeable,” Edward answered.

“Then we shall abandon Winchester at once. Uhtred, find a horse and meet me at the gates. I won’t let her get away.”

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

The Last Kingdom Taglist: @cornervase

Sigtryggr Taglist: @ivarinleatherpants​

[orangegreet]

No Minor Miracles | Chapter 9

In a Cell, At the Bottom of the World

In which we find out how Aleksander takes the news of his Sun Summoner's impending nuptials.

Alina lay awake in the moonlight, white beams cast across their bed.

Between her thighs, the tacky seed was drying and growing itchy. On this last night at the dacha, they were lazy with keeping clean.

Exhausted and spent, the effort to clean up after every round cost too much and they opted to fall asleep in each other’s arms. Waking only occasionally to refuel with food.

She watched him doze, running her hand through his long loose hair and drawing lines across his features.

She could not leave him.

She could not go home.

At home was something she did not want to face. Did not want to do. At home were people who demanded too much of her and censured her own actions in the same stride.

Running had never seemed so appealing before now.

She could take him with her, keep him as she longed to do.

And the Tsar would die and Nikolai would be put on the throne and someone else would kill Zlatan and they would find someone else to lead the West and it could all be done without either of them.

They could go live in anonymity among the otkazat’sya. They could outlive this whole generation of people and then rise up in the next century if they wanted.

Two Immortals, two creators of the world.

What was to stop them from scrapping it all to start anew? Reducing this world into powder and regenerating something better in its place.

They held the Making at the Heart of the World between them.

Did that not give them the power to decide how the world spun next?

They could create a new world and walk it’s lands from the first day, together. They would ensure equality and freedom for all Grisha from the beginning and they would rule in tandem.

It would be a world made just for them.

With a pang she thought of Tamar. Tolya too. And Nina and Matthias.

Even of the ashes of Pabel.

The bodies of her father and mother that lay at the bottom of the True Sea.

Could she destroy a world which held all of them? Erase the people she loved, both alive and dead from existence?

Pabel would not like it. Pabel who had seen so much hurt and pain in the world that he struggled to remember how to hope.

Pabel who had claimed himself as her first true miracle. “The Sun Summoner made an old man believe things could be good again. That people with power could be good again. I thank the Saints for you, Alinochka.”

To take it all away would be to obliterate that hope entirely. Was that in her?

Her fingers brushed down the neck of her Shadow Summoner, his even breaths filled the space between them.

What would it mean to erase the Fold he created?

She wondered yet again what would have happened if she had been there to push back against his Shadow. What shape would his Shadows have taken in the presence of her Light?

It would not undo the pain he poured out onto the earth that day.

Perhaps it would be wrong to undo it. Wrong of her to clear away the evidence of his agony like wiping a tear drop from the face of the earth.

Pain is memory and Aleksander might not want to forget the few people who made a mark on his long life anymore than she wanted to part with hers.

Moreover, how could she erase the world when so many had made their marks upon it?

Just a few months and she and Aleksander would be together.

That was, if Aleksander choose to stand with her when all was said and done.

The thought of the Tsar and the Tsesarevich and their impending assassination and the secession of the West and the engagement to Zlatan and the murder of Zlatan and the transition of power to Nikolai and herself all swirled around her head, unsettling her anxieties.

Would he instead hate her for eternity? She had told him once that she could endure it. She prayed that was true.

Thinking of it any longer was causing the pressure to build in her chest and his brow was furrowed in his sleep and that was probably because her emotions were bleeding into him.

She placed soft kisses to his face until it relaxed. It relaxed her too.

But then.

His cock was hardening, pressing against her thigh and she welcomed the oblivion of sex. She kissed his pliant sleep-softened lips as he murmured unintelligible words to her and his eyes blinked open.

When he was semi-aware, Alina rolled him to his back, stroking his cock with her tongue before she settled herself over him. Soft groan issued from their throats and his hands spread over her thighs, running down them with splayed fingers in appreciative strokes.

She pressed her hands to his chest and circled her hips, warming him up and feeling the pay off as he grew inside her.

When Aleksander had fully woken, his hands captured her hips in a vice and he held her still while he thrust deep a few times.

Lightning was shooting through her belly and into her core and her head was thrown back in the pleasure of it.

Everything felt suspended. Worries, anxieties, fears. They pushed out from her being and she lived in the place where she and Aleksander dwelled as one.

The need to be close was overwhelming them both and when she pulled up on his shoulders he was already sitting up. His mouth met her breasts and his hand lay against her stomach.

His palm pushed in to feel the tip of his length as it moved in her and her mouth began to water at the feeling.

His other hand went to her lips and she laved his fingers with her tongue. His wet hand pressed firm strokes to the slippery lips of her cunt, ensuring she felt every sensation of him.

“Nothing is better than this feeling, Alina.” He confessed to the valley of her breasts.

She nodded against his hair, clutching his head as they strived to get deeper, tighter, wetter.

As if through this act they could possibly fuse together for good.

“Nothing,” she agreed, “nothing will ever be better.”

Aleksander pulled her mouth to his, struggling to keep the rhythm while he tried to consume her whole.

____________________________

It was at dusk the next day that they gathered their things.

Aleksander stood before her, dressed in his black kefta, hair pulled back into his warrior’s knot. In his face he was still soft and gentle, completely open to her and her alone.

His General’s persona was just at the edge of their room and she knew once they passed the threshold, she would not see him like this again.

May not see him like this again for a lifetime or more after this day.

Alina was already crying. Dense, silent tears rolled down her cheeks as she finished the last clasp over his chest.

His calloused hands held her face and he brushed the tears away with his thumbs.

“I cannot do this, Sasha.” She whispered.

His eyes slid shut and his forehead rested to hers. He breathed a deep, shuddering breath.

“Let us go far away from everything. We can do that.” Alina began in a flurry, “We could begin a quiet life away from everyone. Just for a while. Just for now.”

He was confused and shaking his head but she barreled on, unrelenting, “In a century we can rise up together, partners and creators and we will rule all of Ravka as we were made to do. No one will deny the sanctity of a Shadow Summoner and a Sun Summoner blessing the earth in the same moment. Everything can be ours then.”

Her knuckles were white where she clutched at his wrists and he began shushing her, thumbs still methodically brushing over her cheeks, soothing her.

If she could only make him understand that this would be the best thing.

“Where is this coming from, Alinochka?” She closed her eyes and shrugged helplessly.

His voice was strained as he spoke, “I cannot leave my people. You know that I cannot. My Grisha, all those at the Little Palace, in the Second Army. Grisha cowering from discovery for fear of death, enslavement, experimentation—you know we cannot hide, solnyshka.”

Her people waited for her as well. Waited for her to deliver them from the fate of Zlatan. From the impending alliance with Fjerda which would open hunting season on all the Grisha in the West. How could she even consider abandoning them?

Her legs were crumbling beneath her and Aleksander caught her and clutched her to his chest.

Alina was so full of everything.

Full of power and full of energy and full of passion and of love and of rage and contempt.

Why did it all make her feel so small in this moment?

Her body was some insignificant casing and in her was contained the full fury of the sun and who exactly thought this would fit together well?

She was altogether too young to feel the weight of this so acutely. It seemed that everything would go flying out from her body as soon as she rested.

Had Aleksander once felt this way? Perhaps it would take a few centuries for her to adjust.

Only she did not have that kind of time. Discernment and commitment and loyalty were already tangled inside.

His hand stroked her hair and he murmured into her ear. “Come with me now. Please, Alina. We can be together and lead as we were meant to do. It can all start right now, you just have to trust me.”

The agony of his request flared inside her and she wanted desperately to be able to follow him home.

But again she thought of Tamar—all of her friends and allies and knew that she was the lynch pin in their plan to free the West.

She knew without a doubt that she would regret not following him home anyway.

She thought of the words of his mother, Zlatan fears Aleksander. Zlatan will kill Aleksander, one way or another.

The gasping breaths of Aleksander.

A Fjerdan wolf. A zealous Secessionist.

The tether fraying in her chest.

The feeling of being unmoored. Set adrift.

Alina, floating through space and time, ungrounded, untethered.

Alone.

She had to push forward. Keep to the plan. Trust that her opportunity—their opportunity—would arise again.

They had eternity to figure it out. It was she who had determined they were Inevitable.

She who held this truth in her chest as a perpetual water wheel of hope. Rising within her and renewing her resolve to see through the circumstances before her.

One day they would truly belong to each other. The fires of doubt flared again and again but the truth of their inevitability rose and doused the flames time and time again.

She owed it to give her people their day now—those who did not have eternity.

Her breathing slowed as she composed herself. When her eyes met his, she did not need to voice her rejection of his request.

His mouth scrunched with the bitterness all the same.

“It is close.” She began, cutting off any possible disdain he could offer up.

“I am close to the end of my work in the West. I will come to you when it ends. I will follow wherever you ask when I do. I will devote myself to your will and your life and your pleasure until the world burns up beneath us. And if there is an after I will find you there and my vow will remain the same.”

Aleksander did not have words for the unease he felt between them. The anxiety and the guilt and the shame she was emitting sounded off inside of him like a warning bell.

He simply nodded, bending to gather her mouth in a kiss. One that filled them both with urgency and comfort.

“I will not be able to be in touch for at least three weeks, Sasha. Everything is all right, I just need you to know.”

“Not even—“

“No. I am almost to the end of something. If I have you to fall back on right now, I may not see it through. I have to see this through. For myself.”

He did not like the answer, she could tell. Still, he nodded in acceptance.

When he lifted her traveling cloak from the bed and secured it over her shoulders, he took care to caress her neck with the backs of his fingers as he closed the clasp.

“You promise it will be soon?” He asked.

“I do.”

_________________________

Alina emerged from the Fold well past midnight.

Her goodbye with Aleksander lasted far longer than either of them intended.

Ultimately, she ended up on her hands and knees, head arched back to view the undulating curtain of Shadows as he tugged her hair in one hand and steadied her hips with the other.

His hand wrapped into her locks and he thrust into her from behind with a punishing pace—unwilling to let her forget who had used her body in this way. Who it was who owned her body. Her soul.

Their dual cries were swallowed by the void before them and something about the swirling darkness made her feel even dirtier as she cried out her ecstasy into the void.

His head fell between her shoulder blades, arm supporting her torso as he rubbed her clit with his dripping spend, determined to leave her with another orgasm.

She came again with a whimper and he let her ride it out on his fingers and then pressed his cum back into her with soothing shushes.

She growled and then moaned. She wanted to kick him away but his fingers were still moving, feeding her aching center with his cum and she hated how much it roiled her belly with pleasure.

It was impossible to know if she could ever get enough of him.

When he buckled her trousers for her, cupping her clothed cunt all saturated with his seed, he whispered in her ear, “Wouldn’t want you forgetting me on the journey home, pet.”

And then with a kiss to her mouth, he sent her off into the shadowland.

The literal dark scar of his pain, etched into the earth by his hand.

As if she could forget him in here—her Shadow Summoner had the real flare for theatrics.

She did not want to think of anything but Aleksander anyway—did not want to redirect her focus to the other General. The man whom she would announce her engagement to in a fortnight.

Alina moved through the comfort of the Fold. Feeling as if she were still safe in the arms of her love.

Feeling that, for a couple more hours at least, nothing could touch her here.

She thought again of his request that she follow him home now. Tonight.

Just as she predicted, she already regretted her decision to say no.

__________________________

Three Weeks Later __________________________

Aleksander did not hear the sound of the cheering crowd. His breathing halted altogether.

Over the heads of thousands of people, Alina’s eyes locked with his. Her fear swirled into the swell of his anguish.

His chest tore open and the alley around him filled with a tidal wave of darkness.

Shadows poured out of his body in a geyser of black matter.

Alina was still standing on stage, with her eyes fixed on him while the other General stood beside her, waving to the crowd.

He made quick work, forming his shadow into something he could control, something large and dense which he could sweep across the crowd and use to pick up the little body of the otkazat’sya General and pull it apart into a dozen—

Aleksander froze in place.

His chest convulsed.

The shadow around him was dissolving. Blowing away like the sand at the top of a dune and he did not even have a moment to be properly confused before he fell to his knees.

He saw only blackness.

__________________________

He woke on a thinly cushioned bench, head pulsing with the furious pumping of blood and he put a hand to his forehead.

The metal rod strung between his wrists stymied the movement, clunking across the bridge of his nose.

“Fuck!” He blinked and looked down. Grisha slaver’s shackles. Aleksander shook his wrists in their steel bindings and cursed again.

Metal bars stretched from floor to ceiling across the back half of the stone room he was in. Nothing else was particularly notable with the exception of a small window inset near the ceiling of his cell.

The passing horse hooves and feet he could see through the square told him he was below ground. The brightness of the light told him he had been out a few hours.

Locked in a cell.

Shackled at the wrists.

Alina.

Alina engaged to General Zlatan.

Alina would be married to a Secessionist leader.

He had to get out.

“HEY!” He shouted, calling out beyond himself over and over again.

At the other end of the basement was a door. Aleksander fixed his eyes on that as he got to his feet, yelling as if it were powerful enough to bring the thing down off it’s hinges.

He began to hit the shackles against his cage so the vibrating metal jarred him and the clanging echoed off the stone.

The door to the chamber burst open.

Had there been any room left in his body for a spare bit of shock, he might have felt it as he watched his mother descend the stairs.

He squeezed his eyes shut, wanting desperately for her to be gone when he opened them again.

She was not. Baghra looked at him, sizing him up.

“It is good that I was close by before your little episode could play out, boy.” She said. “It would have been just like you to ruin a perfectly good plan by creating another shadow Fold and turning the public tide even stronger against Grisha.”

The shadows dissipating. How quickly his creation dispersed…

Of course his mother was involved. But then how did he pass out—

“One of our Heartrenders made quick work of you while I cleaned up your mess.”

Aleksander watched her, mind sluggish with disbelief. Pain. Betrayal too.

“I do regret that,” she said, pointing at the slaver bar keeping his hands from touching, “for what it’s worth.”

There was a muffled commotion sounding through the barrier of the door. Baghra glanced behind her and then returned her attention to her son.

“Humph. I supposed I will not have long uninterrupted—”

“Is this where you have been, Baghra?” Aleksander asked. He looked around again, gaining his bearings as he processed the events of the last twelve hours.

“Yes and no. West Ravka is new to me in the last few years. Before this we were mostly overseas.”

His eyebrows raised, surprised at how easily she was answering his questions. Struggling to take advantage of it even as he could barely comprehend the circumstances. The series of events which brought him here.

“You said…a plan—what are you doing?” He asked. “Who are you doing it with?”

Very few times in his life did Aleksander feel like he was out of step.

With Alina, that was essentially the rule. However, now he knew his mother was somehow folded into his captivity, he was growing weary with all the plot points that were not his own.

“Hush boy. There is barely any time to go over all of that with you. I’m here to talk to you about what you really want to know.”

Shadows fell from beneath his clothes at the reprimand. His shackles prevented him from controlling them properly but they congregated around his ankles all the same.

“And what is it you think I want—” He began through gritted teeth.

Baghra rolled her eyes, cutting him off, “Your Sun Summoner, stupid boy.”

The commotion behind the door was growing louder.

Aleksander sneered at her and looked away. The idea that his mother was privy to his desires was a gross realization.

He could not deny it. He hungered to know everything she knew about Alina.

His body craved to swallow up everything everyone in the world knew about Alina. On this side of the Fold, it was clear, just how much of her life was obscured from him.

“As I said, you almost ruined our plan today. The truth of the Sun Summoner is not yet known to the public—at least, not as Grisha. Alina or rather the otkazat'sya 'Anya', is a well loved public figure in the West. This engagement to Zlatan is what we would call an undercover assignment.”

Aleksander grew uneasy as more questions pestered his slow-moving brain. The blood still pumped furiously and the noise outside the door continued and he had not seen his mother is over ten years.

As if all of that weren’t dividing him, his insides were still being eaten alive at the image of Alina’s hand in Zlatan. At the image of a wedding day between them.

Aleksander cricked his neck, determined to focus. “Why are you telling me this?” He growled.

A bang sounded from the other side of the door and a white flash of light illuminated through the cracks.

Baghra had a look on her face that he could not place. She was hesitating—something she never did.

Then her wrinkle-lined eyes met his. Guilt.

He read it on her face, plain as day. Though, it had never appeared to him before. At least not in memory. It was a marvel to witness—rare as the Sun Summoner herself.

“What did you do?” He asked.

The guilt dissolved into a scowl.

“What I always do—exactly what has to be done. We needed a way into the Secessionist party so we could bring it down. Alina was able to provide one for us. She was simply doing her duty—”

The din from the hall was growing louder. Another flash and then a scream.

The door burst open for a second time.

Alina stood, silhouetted on the threshold, chest heaving.

“Get out.” She hissed at Baghra.

The malice in her tone was shocking to him.

Had he not been so murderously heartsick over her in the moment, he might have been aroused to feel something more.

The surge of heat he felt was quickly squashed under the image of Zlatan holding her hand and simpering to the crowd.

Baghra lifted one imperious brow and left out the door.

Alina bolted it behind her.

She practically ran to him. Desperation written on her face as her hands wrapped around his through the bars.

Aleksander stiffened, carefully wiping his face of emotion as he backed away.

“Are you okay? Have they hurt you?”

Her desperate and pleading looks were too much to bear. On her hand, the gleam of the engagement ring caught his eyes. He sneered at the sight of it. Shining, even in the dim light.

In himself he found a cruel smile to give to her.

“Alina. Welcome.” He gestured around himself. “As you can see, my new place is sparse but over time I’m sure I will come to call it home.”

“Aleksander…”

In spite of the fact that he did not want to succumb to his bitterness—at least not immediately—he found that the persistent gleam of her ring would not stop twinkling in his eye and he could not stop himself. “Forgive me, dear. Congratulations are in order, aren’t they?”

Aleksander gestured toward the ring, his hands still heavy with the steel rod. Her eyes lingered on the shackles and then met his eyes again.

She looked afraid.

Good.

He continued, “I should thank you, I suppose. For choosing me to work out all your pre-wedding kinks. As you now know, I am quite skilled between the sheets. My one downfall is that I’m a terrible bragger. I am thinking of writing Zlatan a detailed letter of every way I have used his future wife’s body.”

Horror was painted over her face and Alina shook her head at him. “ You cannot think that I—that is not what happened with us.” She was breathless. Catching up to his words and his emotions.

Both of them once again playing the game of trying to guess the other’s thoughts. Both of them trying again to head the other’s thoughts off at the source.

Alina swallowed, glaring at him with resolve. “Aleksander, no. You mean more than him…that week meant more than—”

“Come now, Alina. You don’t have to be shy with me. I have seen you from every angle now,” The abrupt shift in his tone alerted her that he spoke of more than sex. “Who better to describe every facet of your being than I?”

“Listen to me, Sasha, please—”

Aleksander hit the slaver shackle against the bars of his cage. Alina jolted and stumbled backward as the sound again echoed off the stone walls.

That she would call him that name. That she dare use that name to coax him into submission—it was despicable.

He tore his eyes away from her, willing his emotions to abandon him in the process.

She wanted to be candid, very well. He could provide candor. “You have betrayed me. Utterly and completely.”

Her breath hitched. He did not look at her to see the tears he knew were already in her eyes.

Aleksander continued, voice even and empty, “If I could rip the light out of you and give it to someone else, I would do it. I would do anything to cut my tie from you.”

Anything that will numb it all again.

In his periphery, he watched her legs give out. Silently crumpling beneath her weight until she was kneeling quietly on the floor, her hands still clamped to the bars for support.

“I asked you not to come.” She said, softly. “I said you had enemies on this side of the Fold."

“You failed to inform me that you were one of them.” His tone was still flat and lifeless.

“I am not your enemy, Sasha—“

He stiffened, his jaw clenched. “Do not use that name with me.”

The quiet fury seeped from his otherwise controlled voice. “That you would name me with affection when you have sworn yourself to another man is the gravest of insults.”

Alina reached her arm through the bars, willing to touch him—to have him look at her.

“I am not sworn to him, Sasha."

“You are not permitted to use that name!” He shouted at her, composure breaking as his yell also echoed around the chamber. She flinched.

He paced the wall, breathing heavy from his thoughts. How did this happen? How could he not have known?

How could she not have told him?

Alina took a breath.

“Zlatan does not know me. He does not have my true name nor does he have anything true about me. He is angling for a political marriage with Anya.”

Aleksander huffed.

In truth, even he had heard of this woman. This sainted being from across the Fold capturing the heart of commoners. It was a smart move on the part of Zlatan, this ploy to tie the love of the people into his rule.

Except—now Zlatan would have to be ripped apart by shadow as soon as Aleksander could get his hands freed.

Zlatan, his hand holding Alina’s. Zlatan, marrying the Sun Summoner before the entire country.

“And has Anya spread her legs for the esteemed General Zlatan?” He asked, hoping it hurt her to hear the words as much as it hurt to ask them.

“Has she done her duty for the new leader of West Ravka? This Anya might be a saint but I’m sure the way she uses her mouth and her cunt is completely divine.”

She clenched her teeth, growling at him. Sunlight rose to the surface of her skin and he stared down at her with blank eyes.

"I have never allowed him to so much as kiss my lips.”

He scoffed, “Saving it all for the wedding day, are we? Well I suppose Anya is as big a tease as you are, Alina. The part must be terribly easy for you to play.”

Tears were falling down her cheeks and she gripped the bars as she got to her feet.

“I cannot discuss this with you right now.” She choked on the words, starting to back away.

He launched himself at the door, chest pressed to her fist, trapping her hand around the bar where she stood, already half turned toward the door.

Aleksander’s eyes were feral as they finally met hers.

“You let me believe you were mine.” Her face crumpled further, tears streaming as she spoke.

“I am yours.”

“You are a liar.” His teeth were clenched and to his own growing horror, his vision blurred with unshed tears and his voice cracked. “I have been betrayed by hundreds of people over my lifetime. None have been as cold or as treacherous as this. I will never forgive you for this, Alina.”

Alina stared into his eyes for several long moments. With her sleeve, she wiped her eyes and her nose. Sighing, she pulled away from him.

“You must be hungry. I will be back.”

It was obvious she was about to return only because the yelling commenced outside the door.

Still, the door opened and she stood at the top of the stairs, quite alone. Her demeanor was rankled but she closed the door firmly behind her, balancing a tray on one hand.

Aleksander watched her from his seat as she unlocked the cell and entered. The cage was opened but his hands were still bound and he was dangerously close to her now.

It hurt to be so close.

The tether inside of him pulsed, itching to light up and stretch between their chests as it had done a dozen times the last month. Aleksander closed his eyes and breathed, willing the thing to coil itself back up so he could press it down again.

Alina straddled the bench next to him and picked up the piece of bread, dipping it into the stew on the tray and holding it out to his lips.

Though the cell was open, his hands, evidently, would not be unbound for him to eat.

Aleksander turned his face away from the proffered food and stared out the small window at the fading daylight.

“Would you rather me send someone else here to feed you?” She asked, quiet and small again.

He hated her for it.

“I would rather you killed me than continue to force me through this humiliation.”

Alina sighed and took a bite of the food herself.

Just a few weeks ago, she had fed him. She sat on his lap and spooned jam on a roll and he licked the excess sweetness from her fingertips. Then when breakfast was done, they pushed the food aside and she fed him with her body, legs spread open on the table so he could feast on her cunt with the voracity of a starving wolf. His tongue had explored her, devouring and stroking until she had finished twice. After he had pulled her lips to his, feeding her body right back to her.

The memory sent a lurch through him.

Her eyes met his and she cleared her throat. The regret and shame in his gut told him they both felt the desire of that moment.

Just as he sometimes shared the feelings of her euphoric orgasms, she would feel his desire for her in return.

“Zlatan has never touched me.” She said, their shared feeling a natural lead in. “He will not ever touch me intimately. I swore the truth to you that day when I said I would only be yours.” She put the food behind her on the bench and shifted toward him.

“Zlatan needs me to further his agenda only. He does not require me to even pretend affection. We, my friends and I, are using him to bring me into a place of leverage and power. Once I am established, we will kill him. We know under his lead, we will never get freedoms or protection for Grisha. Under my rule, it will be law.

“Please believe me. There will be no wedding. No newly wedded kiss. No wedding night.”

Alina lay a soft hand on his arm, “I will slit the throat of Zlatan myself. I will do it in front of you if it is what you wish. I would have you watch as I take his life.”

His eyebrows twitched as indiscernible emotions waved across his features. His breaths were quick but deep. He could not deny the image she provided him was a pleasant one and she had all but cooed the promise into his ear.

“I understand you do not trust me, Aleksander. For that, I am sorry. If I could go back and tell you everything, I would.” She chewed on her lip, “Actually, if I could go back, I would have gone home with you when you asked me a few weeks ago. I would do anything to make this different.”

The churning in his stomach had been placated somewhat. The pain at the thought of Alina letting him into her body only to give it someone else had dulled a little.

A plot for power he could understand. Taking advantages when offered freely was a rule he generally followed without exception. This was war and Grisha would never be in a place to be given the freedom of a safe life. The freedom had to be wrenched from the hands of those who withheld it.

Alina took a chance, dipping the bread back in the stew and raised it to his lips again.

His eyes told her he still did not trust her but he did open his mouth for a bite.

He chewed in silence, unsure what to say next.

He wanted to know everything now.

He wanted to destroy her.

He wanted to fuck her until she cried.

He took the next bite offered and chewed.

“And the Tsar?” Aleksander said eventually, “You had him assassinated, did you not?”

She blinked, apparently forgetting her hand in the demise of the ruler of Ravka. Then again, it was not yet public knowledge on this side of the Fold. He had only received the intel hours ago.

“Yes and no. You told me the crown would align with Shu Han. Our Council has had someone in place for a very long time to take out the Tsar and the crown prince at our signal.”

Aleksander closed his eyes and grunted. The information he had shared had been useful to her after all.

He had been arrogant. Idiotic. Believing she would not be able to enter his territory without him knowing.

“How?”

Alina watched him with trepidation. Still, he did not look at her.

“A Squaller. He is young. We sent him to the Little Palace some time ago and he has been there waiting for the right moment.”

“A young Squaller…Kalem from Novyi Zem.” Aleksander said, nodding his head in understanding and internally screaming.

He had been highly impressed with the boy. Overlooked the fact that he was quite impressive for being so new to the Little Palace.

Sighing, he got to his feet, no longer able to stand being near her once again, “You have to let me go, Alina.”

She frowned.

“My army is marching back to Os Alta as we speak. Once the court finds out it was a Grisha who took out the tsar and the crowned prince, there will be no one to protect them. Not the army, not the teachers.”

He looked back at her, scrutinizing her. “Alina, there are children in the Little Palace. Did you not consider this?”

“Of course we did.” She seethed. “Kalem has ensured everything points back to the visiting Shu delegates. No one will be surprised that they have betrayed their own peace talks.”

“But you cannot be sure,” He said, pacing the cell. “You cannot be sure and I cannot stay here when there are people who count on me. Why did you not consult me?”

He glared at her, “Do you doubt me so much that you would go behind my back and put me in this position?”

“No, I do not doubt you!” Her tears and her tone made her surge of desperation all the more evident.

“Then why, Alina!?”

She flinched and then looked at the door.

“It was out of my hands.”

“Do not dare lie to me. You did not need to tell them what I confided to you about the arrangement with the Tsar and Shu Han but you did.”

“I did no such thing!” She got to her feet and was finally angry. "Kalem has been monitoring the situation for months. He knew it was time and he waited for approval from the Council first.”

Alina clutched his arms, forcing him to face her. “It was planned before we went away together. That is why I invited you when I did. I did not want anyone in the Palace to suspect your involvement.”

Frigid air cascaded into his chest, choking his lungs. A bitter laugh tore out of the cold.

He ripped his arms out of her grip and slammed the steel rod against the bars once.

The metal clang rang through the room once more forcing Alina to cover her ears.

He hit the bars again.

Then again.

Aleksander was yelling soon. Loud, raging bellows, deep and guttural, joined the clanging as he hit his hands against the bars over and over and over.

He could not stop the fury pouring out from him along with his shadows. They wafted around him without agency, their master unable to lift his hands to control them properly.

Aleksander shouted himself hoarse and blood seeped from the wounds beneath the shackles and the pool of shadows crept over the floor, filling the room.

Only then did he stop, chest heaving and forehead resting against the cell bars.

Alina approached him with caution. She touched a hand to his back and he stiffened. She flinched back.

“Let me out of here, Alina.” His voice croaked, raw from his rage. “This has gone on long enough. I have to go where I am needed.”

She said nothing for a moment.

“Aleksander, please.” Her voice was so small again and closed his eyes against her. He hated her. He had to hate her. It was easier than loving her.

“Sasha, I need you.”

If he could wish for anything at that moment, it would have been the will to believe her. The will to believe that most of the thoughts and words she had spoken to him over the last few years had been true.

He couldn’t.

“You have just told me that you not only took the throne out from under me, undermining my leadership of both the Little Palace and the Second Army in doing so, but on top of that, this week away together…This time which you so generously granted me, was some sort of ruse to serve your agenda.”

“That is not what I said. You are willfully twisting my words.”

“Am I?” He asked, his voice was empty again. Alina turned his face toward his, her palms were hot on his cheeks and he closed his eyes so he would not have to look at her. The anguished tears on her face already burned into his vision.

“Yes! You do not understand. You are used to being in charge of everything. You believe that I am in charge here but I am not.” Her forehead pressed against his.

He remained unmoved.

“Then take charge, Alina. Get me out."

The door to the chamber opened again and Aleksander turned to see his mother once more.

Alina scowled at Baghra like a feral cat. His mother looked between the two of them and eventually landed on Alina.

“I have convinced the Council it will be in our best interest to let the General return to Os Alta.”

Silence fell between the three of them. It stretched until Baghra let out an impatient noise and gestured for Aleksander to step toward her.

Baghra stood just outside the cell, a key clutched in her hands as she pulled Aleksander’s arms toward her.

Aleksander held still while his mother removed the bar from his wrists. Alina stood beside him, her hands closing over his bloodied wrists as they became free.

He watched her, cataloguing her features. Those wide and fearful eyes, her anger at the wounds he now bore. She wanted to fuss over him and he was tempted to let her.

Tempted to fall back in.

How easy it was to forget she was so young. She was still so malleable and full of raw potential. The people here did not know what it was they held.

And she did not know yet how to withdraw from the influence of others.

Perhaps he should have expected that when she fell out of his grasp, she would end up ensnared in another. Could he hold her responsible for this?

It felt impossible to decide. He was too close to the book and he had to put his mind and his focus back where it mattered.

Alina was out of his purview for the time being.

He tore his eyes from her and looked at his mother expectantly.

“We have horses saddled and ready to return you to the Fold and then on back to the Little Palace. It is expected that you will work with Nikolai, Darkling. As Tsar he will protect Grisha and keep the Second Army in his service.”

Aleksander made no acknowledgement, simply staring at the ancient woman before him. The one who raised him and endured century after century as he did.

He walked around her.

“You have done well without me, boy.” Baghra said to his back.

He scoffed, reaching for the chamber door. Alina was at his heels.

“And this Summoner,” Baghra gestured at Alina. Reluctantly, he turned to look. “She did not choose this. She is doing this for you—to protect you. For the good of Grisha.”

Alina’s eyes stared at the floor in shame as she passed.

Without a word, he followed her through the door.

________________________________

He stared up at the black curtain. The dark of nighttime surrounded them once more and their horses shuffled at the edge of the Fold.

Aleksander looked down at his hands. When he had come through the Fold just last evening, he felt he had something to hold onto.

The Light lived in his palms and was dependent on the strength of his connection to his other half.

Together, he and Alina had ventured deeper into the Making at the Heart of the World and while there, they could use the elements almost interchangeably.

And now, once again, he found himself removed from her. No trust between them—not any more.

Perhaps in time they could reforge something but, as it was, Aleksander could barely spare a thought for the woman who, just a night ago, ruled his very existence.

The pain was too much to bear and the offenses too great a burden to carry.

Only now, leaving it behind was an issue. The Darkling would be unable cross through his Shadow Fold without the volcra descending upon him. Without the protection of her Light—of their connection—it was useless.

“I need your help.” He said. The words wrenched from his mouth. “With crossing, I will need your help.”

Alina was quiet and he sensed the questions she wanted to ask but instead she just answered, “Of course.”

________________________________

The journey through the Fold was silent.

On the other side, Alina swung her body down from the horse without a thought and waited for Aleksander to do the same.

Longingly, he stared out at the field and contemplated taking off for Os Alta without a backward glance. It was easier than a goodbye.

Zlatan’s hand. Zlatan’s ring on her finger. Lie after lie after lie. He was so weary.

When he joined her in the small space between their two horses, he could not help the way his hands gravitated to her cheeks. She was warm in his hands and he wanted to swallow the gasp from her mouth. Wanted to hold his mouth over hers and share the same breath they way he felt they shared the same life force.

Her face was cradled in his palms and for a moment he distanced himself from his own confusion—long enough to look fully into her eyes.

“Alina. I don’t know when I will see you again.” Her eyes closed and she tried to pressed forward but he held her still. Lie after lie after lie. It was too much just now. “And I do not think I want to see you again.”

The space between them grew warm with her breaths which were barreling in hard and quick.

Aleksander felt the panic inside of her. Felt it trying to creep across their connection but he blocked it out as best he could. It hurt to love her and he was a General and he had responsibilities and she was engaged to another General and she promised she would not fuck him but he couldn't process that right now and it gave him no release.

“Do not try to get in touch with me. For now I want to pretend as if you never existed. I want to believe I have not met you. That I have not touched you.”

She cried, her head sagging in his grip. Her tears wetted his hands and he pulled up on her face, demanding her attention. She had to understand that she had pushed him beyond what he was capable of handling right now. She had to understand.

“Do you hear me? Not a trace. Please—I cannot bear it.” His voice broke. Alina’s eyes raked over his face, savoring his features and he knew he looked wrecked as he gazed down at her in return.

Any second he would cave inward, crumble beneath the weight of it all.

She nodded.

Aleksander turned from her, gathered the horse’s reins in his hands and pulled himself back onto the saddle.

He left her there, abandoned her at the edge of the Fold. He did not look back. His palms were still warm from her skin.

________________________________

When he caught up to his troops, it was before they had even completed the return trip to Os Alta. He welcomed the presence of Ivan and Fedyor in his company once more.

The torture of three days spent alone with his thoughts was finally ended and he entered the tent with a renewed sense of purpose.

Divulging all he learned to them—the assassination, the impending secession of the West and any next steps he worked out on a speeding horse in the last three days—returned to him a sense of control.

________________________________

A scant two weeks were spent at the Little Palace, securing defenses and paving the path for the new Tsar. Nikolai proved to be a more natural leader at least than his older brother, may he rest in peace.

Aleksander, thankfully, did not feel the need to grovel before him, nor did Nikolai expect it.

Indeed, when they are alone, save a couple guards at the door, Nikolai confided in his General. “I have received word from mutual friends of ours that you are to be trusted. I hope that is true.”

Aleksander eyed the newly minted Tsar and nodded. He had at least ascertained that the Tsar did not know the role their “friends” played in the assassination of his father and brother.

Nikolai was content to blame the Shu as all evidence indicated and Aleksander held the information close to himself, waiting for the appropriate time to use it.

________________________________

At the request of his Tsar, he returned to Kribirsk a mere fortnight after he left it. Having delivered the news that the West began steps in secession, Nikolai agreed that another trip through the Fold would be required as a final supply run before the inevitable civil war could begin.

The General thrived at the front, well distracted from the issues which plagued him just three weeks before.

Though he had meant it when he told her he wished to believe they had never met, it was not easy to commit to this sentiment for long.

At night, he dreamed of her. Felt her skin under his hands and could not stop himself from taking every part of her body for himself. In the darkness of his dreams she glowed and he watched in awe, always surrounding her, closing her into his cocoon of darkness. Protecting her, protecting them both from the world around them.

He tried not to let it drive him back into madness. Although he wished things could be different, he was at least resigned that it was only a matter of time before they reconnected.

They were magnets—opposite sides of the same thing. One of their existence beget the other and vice versa. What they were could not be undone or detached. How deeply he had missed her. How intrinsically linked they were and how wrong it felt to be divided from her.

They circled each other on and on and into eternity.

For now, though, he stubbornly clung to his hurt.

For her part, Alina did an exemplary job adhering to the promise she made to him. Alina did not so much as twinge in his direction for a solid month. And so, when the inexplicable tugging started in his chest, despite his request of her, a burst of hope radiated through him.

It was immediately followed by dread.

Accompanying the tug was a searing pain, rendered into the very heart of him. The General disappeared into the privacy of his tent, going to her at once.

“Alina?” He whispered, her body a hazy mass on the ground.

She was passed out on a dirt floor. Aleksander could not make out any of her surroundings.

“Alina?” He kneeled beside her.

Dark hair obscured her face and he tenderly lifted it, brushing it away. Her lip was cut and she had a gash across her temple but she was otherwise unmarred.

Her hands were trapped in a similar device used to keep him from summoning just weeks earlier, the steel Grisha slaver rod.

Aleksander lifted her gently into his lap, wrapping an arm around her back and cradling her head in the crook of his arm.

“Alina. Wake up.” Gently, he patted her face.

Her face scrunched.

“Alina, please.” He kissed her forehead.

Eyes blinking slowly, she looked up at him, “You came.”

“Where are you? What happened to you?”

“My friends cannot…” She coughed. “It’s been a while and no one has come…I’m sorry…I d-didn’t know what else to do.” She coughed again and he held a hand to her cheek, bringing her focus back.

“Your friends did this?”

She shook her head, eyes clenched in pain. “You have to tell them…they need to know. ’S going to ruin everything.”

“Who, Alina?” He held her face tipped up.

Her voice was croaky, “H-he is going to kill me in the morning.”

Alina took a deep breath and breathed out a sob which broke her composure, “He will kill me and then he will come for you. He wants you dead, Sasha and I won’t be able to stop him.”

“Zlatan? Alina, where are your friends?”

Her head lolled on his arm, “Look at me.” Aleksander said, jostling her as he brought her face close to his. “What happened?”

“Zlatan knows.” She whispered. “What does he know?”

“That I was going to kill him.” She said, voice fading. “He knows now that I am the Sun Summoner. He knows and now he will make sure I die.”

[antilagardelle]

My Conversion To Catholicism

Given the nature of this piece I will largely stay my usual impulse to abide by strict writing formalities. I will likewise employ a great deal more pathos than usual, albeit still less than most people, especially with respects to something as profoundly epiphanic as a conversion. That said, I reckon the best point of commencement for my story is at the beginning. I was raised Catholic from the cradle, but around the age of fourteen I fell away from the faith. Now I never became an atheist, although I did have a phase where I believed that God was evil and he created us as his guinea pigs for the mere purpose of torturing us. This belief was largely reflective of my domestic situation at the time. 

As far as God’s existence goes--a subject which I do not have time to cover in this piece beyond a cursory review of thomist apologetics--I had always felt that these arguments, to which I was exposed at an early age, were essentially irrefragable: that a belief in any cause and effect without an uncaused cause at its outset was effectively an open rebellion against arithmetic, as was any belief in motion without an unmoved mover at its outset. Over the years I debated many atheists, all of whom advanced countless counterarguments to these undeniable verities. Yet not one of these rebuttals ever proved to be substantial argumentation, but rather clever forms of intellectual obstinacy; nay, that they never once posed an argument that both delegitimized these truths, and did not in so doing, delegitimize epistemology on the whole. So I was always convinced of the existence of a sentient uncaused cause: aseitas. 

Now it occurred a couple years after I graduated high school in February of 2018 that I was quite spontaneously driven to look into the controversy of whether or not Jesus actually existed. I found that there were in fact extra-biblical references to Christ from trusted historians such as Tacitus and Josephus. And upon reading these references, and further finding that all attempts to repudiate their veracity, or even to argue that they were insignificant to prove that Jesus existed, were eristically facile. And it was upon this realization that I then knew that Jesus was a historical figure. When I was younger my stance on the story of the crucifixion would have been that the story accurately reflected the human tendency to hate that which is righteous. To hate that which is good, and love that which is evil. But as to the historicity of the texts I would have taken a neutral stance: I didn’t know. But after researching the matter, I now knew. The thing that I had been raised to believe, happened to be objectively true regardless of my having been raised to believe it. The values I was raised to believe were objectively true. And this was somewhat astounding to me. It was as if I no longer believed... I knew. 

A couple months later, when Good Friday rolled around, I watched Mel Gibson’s The Passion Of The Christ. I had watched the film before, but this was the first time I watched it knowing beyond the shadow of a reasonable doubt, that the events depicted were verifiably historical. It was real. What I was watching really happened. And as such, I was so profoundly impacted by what Christ voluntarily underwent, and that through it all, he deigned not to provoke or to strike back, but instead to simply say “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.” An innocent man, who did absolutely nothing, chose to undergo this torture anyway, without complaint. I was so deeply impacted by watching all this that I cried quite profusely. And I can remember thinking to myself that I wanted to be part of that man’s church. Whoever this man was, and whatever church he instituted I wanted to follow. And how could I not? The thought was burning through my mind, that if I had lived and seen what this man did, there was no way conceivable that I could choose not to follow him. And precepts such as saving sex for marriage, and going to mass every sunday were a small price to pay in comparison to how profound it felt to be numbered among this man’s followers.   

Moreover, I recall the thought that I could not get out of my head for several months thereafter, was just how incredible the scriptures really were. In other words, the story of Christ was a story that on all accounts should have been a fairytale. I mean you’re telling me that the son of God came to earth and turned water into wine and he was crucified and the temple split down the middle and the vail rent from the top down upon his death, and the earth shook, and on the third day he rose again from the dead and is seated at the right hand of the father and he will come again to judge the living and the dead? But that’s just it... it was true. It was all real. It was as real as my own two hands. This story which on all accounts should have been the biggest fairytale of human history, just so happened to be objectively true regardless how surreal or mystical it was. Far from dismissing the scriptures from reality as some outlandish fairytale, it elevated the status of reality to that of a fairytale. This was my realization: reality was a fairytale. And it is no surprise then that the marked trait of reality is its need for fairy tales to express it. The modern idea that everything can be reduced under a “rational” system devoid of all numinous or esoteric qualities is flat out irrational. In fact anyone who impartially observes nature and the universe sees esoteric qualities all over the place: namely the Fibonacci Sequence, the fact that the moon wanes and waxes in 28 day cycles mirroring the menstrual cycle by sheer chance, the perfect transition of the four seasons(four being a symbol of wholeness). Now what’s the immediate conclusion of all these occurrences? The most immediate answer, if I am to forego relating these mystical realities to intelligent design for the sake of argument, is that the world is inherently esoteric. If your version of reality does not include ineffable, mystical, numinous doctrines, it isn’t reality at all. This was the conclusion that my conversion brought me to. And I distinctly recall thinking, “the things that are true, the things that are true, you wouldn’t believe the things that are true.”

It was not until late December of 2019 that I began to shift from a sort of vague unitarian Protestantism to Catholicism. My heart was no longer hardened. It had softened at this point in time, due largely I believe to the fact I had just moved out of my Parents’ house. My conversion to Catholicism from Protestantism was based on two principle truths that I had long known, but suppressed or ignored out of a fear of coming back to Catholicism. That fear was now removed. The two primary truths were as follows:

1. That Protestantism is merely moral relativism with a Christian flavor. As bluntly phrased as that is, it’s true. The scriptures on their own cannot adequately constitute morality without a central magisterium to interpret them. Without a magisterium, stoning gay men, raping women, and flogging would all be justified. And many Christian movements have done such things which were made excusable by the mere fact that they had no papal authority to condemn them. The magisterium mediates the meanings of the biblical passages.  Discussion about infallibility is for another occasion. 

2. That biblical canon is an unattainable standard where there is no central church to delineate between those books which are doctrinally adequate and those which are not: namely The Gospel Of Judas, The Gospel Of Thomas, The Book Of Enoch, etc... Without a central authority, the very notion of a uniform bible vanishes completely. One of the attacks on the bible made constantly by atheists, is just how various and contradictory the literature is that claims to chronicle the life of Christ, and of the individuals and events in the old testament. That these chronicles are so varied and contradictory that there can be no canon. This argument holds sway as long as one refuses to believe that there was an actual central church that went through all these varied accounts and pulled out only those that were coherent, and in line with the Church’s doctrine, and I had to accept this in order to properly defend the truth against the assault of atheists.

I have now been Catholic for over a year. I recall it started as an inkling. In late December of 2019 I felt like I was being pulled that direction, but I still didn’t consider myself Catholic for certain. I started going to mass every now and then. This eventually became every sunday. I went to confession so I could start receiving the eucharist. Month by month, week by week, day by day, I became increasingly more devoted to being Catholic. I went from saying that I thought I wanted to come back to Catholicism but was hesitant to call myself Catholic, to boldly considering myself Catholic. I hope this piece has been informative, helpful, or enlightening to fellow Catholics, as well as others of all creeds and philosophical beliefs. God bless all who chose to read this!