#i read that for the first time and lost my mind

[freyito]

ᴅᴇʟʟɪɴɢʀꜝ ⨟ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪᴍ

✭ pairing(s): aventurine, dr ratio, boothill, gallagher, sunday, argenti sampo, jing yuan, blade, luocha, jiaoqiu, moze, dan heng, gepard, caelus, welt (seperate) x reader

✩ in which: you wake up next to them.

✧ a/n: for those who have read my works since i first started writing, i made a little masterpost on the mk(1) boys nightly rotuines... i figured id do one for hsr men since my mk hyperfixation died and is buried 6ft under... and i might do one for the hsr men nighttime routines but for now... wakey wakey

✦ taglist: @fffrost, @shinysora

🗒 cw: gn reader, just fluff, not proofread

✎ wc: 3.9k

⎯ Aventurine

Ever the gambler, AVENTURINE even takes a gamble on waking up in the morning. He can set as many alarms as he wants, but he always sleeps in. He finds any excuse to cuddle up next to you and enjoy your warmth for a minute, or even an hour more. He doesn’t mind coming into work late, he always finds a way to slip out of write-ups.

You’ve lost count of how many alarms went off by now, as annoying as it was. Still, despite how important Aventurine was, he’s cuddled up against your back, hands gripping your clothes tightly as if you’d dare to wiggle out of his arms. You could remind him, again and again, that he needs to go, that he has a meeting that day, or a certain deadline, and he’ll just groan and say that his superiors can handle him being gone for another hour or so.

When you do manage to convince him to get up and start the day, he does everything with such reluctance. Forget his rank, forget all of it, he’d much rather spend several more hours in bed with you, even when the sun dips low. He’s slow to put on his uniform, asking you the most mundane of questions, with answers he already knows. He skips out on breakfast at hope, douses himself in that expensive cologne that makes you have to distance yourself until he leaves, and wires you enough money to buy the entire menu from the cafe you mentioned you liked in passing.

⎯ Dr. Ratio

The early bird gets the worm, as they say, and VERITAS is no exception to the saying. Considering work has him busy, he’s thoughtful enough to leave you to sleep, if you are not accustomed to a sleep schedule like his. He tends to wake up early, to give himself enough time to prepare himself for the day. He likes to be thorough, check over his lesson plan for the day, make sure he made no mistakes the day before (although he rarely needs to revise it).

While on the outside, he seems cold and uncaring, on the inside he’s flustering himself with how much he worries about you. He knows he will see you later in the day, when you’ll bring him his lunch, or after his lectures, but some part of leaving just unsettles him. Not that he believes you’d be in danger if you were gone, but more so how you take care of yourself. Of course he knows you’re capable, but some part in him wants to make sure.

So, before he leaves, right when you wake up, he does his best to cook a filling breakfast. Most of the times, Ratio has to put it in some tupperware and save it for later at work, but there are very rare occasions that he gets to enjoy the meal with you. He always makes more– “it was an accident, nothing more,” he’ll say, shaking his head, stoic as ever. But you know it wasn’t– and shovel it onto your plate, it’s his own love language. 

⎯ Boothill

BOOTHILL is an early riser. It’s a habit that was ingrained in him since he was knee high. Granted, he doesn’t need much sleep, and he isn’t around as often as you’d like. He doesn’t stay in one place for long, and he really only swings by your apartment once or twice every month. But that doesn’t mean he’ll sleepover, if only for a night.

Despite the fact that he wakes up even hours before you, he decides to let you sleep. Sometimes he’ll stay in bed as long as you are, soaking in the peaceful sight, one that he’s never afforded himself until you came along. He reaches out ever so tentatively, as if he’ll feel your warm skin underneath his finger tips, but all it earns him is a shudder and your face scrunching. And when you wake up, he’s in such a hurry to pretend he wasn’t watching you sleep, mumbling apologies like he’s disturbed you.

When he’s not watching over you, Boothill enjoys cooking. He might’ve lost his taste and stomach a while ago, but he’s still an excellent chef. For all he can’t eat, he loves cooking. And he believes one of the best ways of waking up is to have a hearty breakfast. While you catch up on your sleep (most likely because he showed up at your apartment late into the night scuffed and bloody(?), acting like nothing happened), he’s making the most heavenly smelling pancakes ever, humming some old country tune to himself. If you dare get up to see what he’s cooking, he shoos you back to bed, tutting and claiming that you’re ruining the surprise, as if he doesn’t do this every time.

⎯ Gallagher

For such a busy man, GALLAGHER tends to sleep a lot. Or perhaps, too little. His schedule is always fluctuating, which means he’s up early and home late. It’s unfair, you think. Most of the time he’ll come home all quiet, settle on a snack, and then sneak into bed, and pull you up close. Half the time he doesn’t even care about his clothes, opting to take off his vest and shirt and throw them on the floor. He’ll worry about the laundry later.

That being said, it’s often a gamble if you’ll see him in the morning or not. He wakes up quite early, and as much as he’d love to spend time with you, cuddle up, and go straight back to sleep, he has to at least look presentable for the next time he’s called in. Most of the time, he accidentally wakes you up when he gets up to shower, but you settle back in quite comfortably. 

Most of the time, he’ll have to leave right after his shower. So he’ll do his best to be quiet as a mouse, sneak in, and press a kiss to your forehead, before starting his day. But on the days he can sleep in, or when he doesn’t have work… he climbs right back into bed. The scent of his body wash rolls over you, in the near-overpowering sandalwood haven it is. He’ll wrap his arm around your waist, pull you impossible closer, and nuzzle into your neck. If you are awake by that time, he urges you to go back to sleep. ‘5 more minutes’, he’ll grumble, and in possibly record speed, he’s out like light. His arm loosens ever so slightly, as he snores away until his thirteenth alarm goes off.

⎯ Sunday

As a stickler for schedules, it’s no surprise that SUNDAY has a strict morning routine. He wakes up at 7 AM system time, 6 AM being too early, and 8 AM being too late. Of course, he encourages you to do the same. You get used to it with time.

He likes to start with a shower, of course. Something intimate with you, yet so normal. He does not mind spending an hour in the shower, but with his station, he cannot. So unfortunately, he has to cut such time short. But he makes sure to soak in every single minute left in the morning with you. A nice breakfast and some tea, as he chats away about his ‘chores’ for the day, what matters he is attending to, whether or not it is a day in the office or out and about. 

Regardless of how busy his day is, Sunday makes sure you know that you are in every waking thought of his. A kiss and a hug at the door, and he’s on his way. You can see some flicker of sorrow as he leaves, as if it is something to grieve over, not being by your side for a minute longer. But alas, to achieve and infinite amount of sundays, he cannot afford to make room in his schedule for more down time. 

⎯ Argenti

ARGENTI never ceases to look as heavenly as ever, even in his sleep. However, he has quite a strict schedule he sticks to, something that manifested when his master started training him. He has quite the strict schedule: wake up early, shower, enjoy his breakfast, and start training, unless he has somewhere to be. 

However, he does allow him so rest days, where he sleeps just a little longer, and allows himself more spare time. Very rarely do you catch him asleep when you wake up, and most mornings when he does ‘sleep in’, you often wake up to him gazing down at you. His head propped up by his hand, hair cascading down his shoulders. He could even miss out on several hours of sleep or perhaps even the entire night, and still look angelic. He greets you with a soft smile and a huff, his fingers brushing against your cheeks, as he waits for you to properly wake up.

And once you’re ready to get up, he’s ready to start the day. Anything you do, he's practically following you around like a lost puppy. When you make breakfast, you're either watching over his shoulder, or he is. He never skips out on a chance to dance in the kitchen, making something that was normally a spectacle regulated, and yet, it still feels as intimate as it does the very first time he pulled you into his arms.

⎯Sampo Koski

SAMPO KOSKI needs his beauty sleep. Granted, his sleeping schedule varies based on his business. Sometimes he needs to rob someone blind in the early hours of the morning, or his clients want to meet way past his bedtime. He’ll huff and puff and complain about it, but he always makes time to curl up in your arms like a poor little stray kitten.

When he is finally free of his dreaded work (his path in life that HE chose), he sleeps in quite late. Most of the time, he wants to enjoy the time he has left with you, pout and complain about how hard his job is (again, a career HE CHOSE). He has a lot to say when he (or you) wake up, only because he’s missed talking casually, and most of all, he’s missed you. His jobs and clients have him acting all proper, putting on some other character than he truly is for his clients. While there are some acts he likes… sometimes he just wants to break character and get his clients to buy whatever piece of junk he’s stolen.

Despite all his yapping, he truly enjoys the time he gets with you, even if most of it is him keeping you in bed. He pulls you up close to his chest if you even dare to move, burying his face in the crook of your neck and muttering pathetic little ‘don’t leave’s and the like. When you look down at him he’s just so tired, his eyebags are somehow seven times darker and he’s lost all that luster in his eyes. But you know he’s putting on an act. When you get up, he’ll be crawling to your side in no time.

⎯ Jing Yuan

Ah, the Dozing General. Who better to wake up with? While JING YUAN has to be up early, he doesn’t skip out on any time that could be spent with you. When his first alarm goes off, he’s quick to snooze it, rolling over and throwing his arm over your waist, pulling you closer. He’s used to waking up this early, of course, but he doesn’t like to miss out on those precious 30 minutes where he’s holding you close, uninterrupted. You’re accustomed to this schedule, as well. Wake up; but not really, spend the next moments cuddling, and then start your day.

As the Divine Foresight, he doesn’t get as much leisure time as he’d like, or days off. He could spend all day in bed, really, spoiling himself (as he sees it) to high heavens. But unfortunately, there is work that needs to be done, and he needs to start his day. And (un)fortunately, he quite enjoys dragging you along. A nice walk in the garden before he truly starts the day is a sign of a peaceful day. With you by his side, half-awake or not.

That being said, he does so because he wishes to spend every possible moment he has with you. His station means his workload will be unpredictable, and while he wishes that all days would be mundane, that wish will never come true. So, spending the first thirty minutes to several hours of his morning with you is what he rewards himself with. A nice meal and a good bath sets him in the right mood, being simply a step away at most in the morning. 

⎯ Blade

BLADE doesn’t sleep well in general. Often times he’s woken up at all hours in the night by things he won’t share– “It’s childish.” is what he says, with a huff. Nightmares. It’s nightmares. He doesn’t have much of a reaction to them anymore, aside from grumbling and complaining quietly, which is normal. As much as he tries to go back to sleep, he simply can’t most of the time, opting to do something to keep his mind and hands busy, as sleep deprived as he is.

You tend to be met with his back when you wake up, tense as ever. When he can’t find something to do, he settles on meditation, which does nothing to calm the voices and ‘vengeance’ that addles his mind. It does too little for him, his mind always circling back to what could have been. The minute you shift in bed, he snaps out of it quickly, looking back at you with his unreadable gaze. 

Most of the time, if you ask him to lay down with you, he will, as long as he doesn’t have an assignment he needs to be on. For all his sharp edges, he’s quite… dull when it comes to you. Perhaps it’s the many years he’s faced that’s made him lose his luster, or simply his own undoing. Yet, somehow, when you pull him in close, he relaxes ever so slightly. Perhaps not all the way, but it’d take you a couple more years to break down his walls completely. You could sleep for another three hours and he’d at least get time to close his eyes and let his mind rest; something he desperately needs.

⎯ Luocha

While LUOCHA’s “work” has him up quite early, well into the AMs. Of course, with all the traveling he’s done, his sleep schedule varies, and it’s not like he gets to spend as much time as he’d like with you, but you tag along all the same. He could be awake at 3AM system time and you’d be sound asleep until 10AM, and somehow, he’d still look as handsome as ever. You’re starting to feel a little jealous.

Still, he makes time to greet you in the morning. Aside from being a merchant, he is, of course, a healer, and he wants to make sure you're sleeping right. And, perhaps to catch up, if he has been gone for a few days. After all, not only does physical health matter, but mental, as well. A quick little chat, maybe some tender touches, and a hearty meal that he’s brought from the markets is quite enough mental stimulation, yes?

Sometimes, it seems he disagrees, choosing to crawl in bed alongside you, even if you chose to wake up properly. He’ll play with your hair, whisper sweet nothings to you, or simply just stare and smile. He doesn’t get to be affectionate often, either, and often that need for human touch culminates, which leads to those impromptu cuddling sessions in the morning.

⎯ Jiaoqiu

As a healer, JIAOQIU wants to make sure you (and him) maintain a normal, healthy sleep schedule. Unless he’s on an emergency call, he tends to wake up at a mostly normal time, between 8-10 AM. Of course, he wakes you up with him, wanting to start his day off right with your pretty face.

He wakes you up oh so sweetly for a man with such a scheming smile. His fingers glide over your skin, pushing your hair behind your ear, using such a sweet voice, one so sweet that it makes your teeth ache. And when you're finally properly awake, he’s all too excited to rush off to the kitchen, like a giddy child. 

Of course, what’s a morning without Jiaoqiu without some breakfast? When you return from your shower, the kitchen is alive with his cooking, the sounds of sizzling and smells of spices (what else?) a delightful concoction. What is he cooking? Ji dan bing, a fulfilling breakfast. While you are the only person he cuts down the spice for, the food still has enough kick to make you make a face. Of course, his plate smells so spicy that it makes you recoil, which earns a chuckle from the Foxian.

⎯ Moze

Most of the time, MOZE sneaks into your shared bed by the morning, seeing as most of his work is carried out during the night. By the time he’s settled in bed, it’s around the time you wake up. It’s a peaceful sight, really. You’re so used to him scowling or simply not emoting, that when you wake up to his face, tranquil as ever, it makes your heart flutter.

Of course, that does not last. He is up within the first couple of seconds you stare too long, easily woken by any simple rustling. The feeling of someone’s eyes on him means one thing: danger. And he unfortunately hasn’t shaken that habit. However, he has grown used to the fact that it’s you staring at him in the morning hours, and thankfully you are spared a knife to your throat.

He jolts awake with a disgruntled groan, his eyes darting over your features, taking in as much information as he can in his hazy mind state, as if he hadn’t seen your face a thousand times over. Once he is satisfied with the fact that it’s you, he lays back down with a huff, before pulling you down with him. You may have the day to start, but he would like at least a couple more moments in bed with you, he’s stubborn that way.

⎯ Dan Heng

With his days off, DAN HENG tends to enjoy lounging. If not lounging, then reading, and if not reading, then cleaning. But most of the time, since you came back from the Xianzhou Loufu, he’s been sleeping in an awful lot. You're often the first to wake up, or at least, the first to get out of bed.

Most of the time, you sleep in with him, happy to get a couple extra minutes to a couple hours more of sleep. It’s a nice moment of peace and quiet after the amount of missions you two have been on, while March and the Trailblazer updates you on what’s happening wherever they are. Still, sometimes sleeping in gets kind of boring. So while Dan Heng catches on some much needed sleep (and alone time), you busy yourself with cleaning around the express, helping Pom-Pom with certain tasks, and even doing your best to cook up some breakfast.

When you bring your expert attempt at pancakes back to you and Dan Heng’s room, he perks up. He goes from sulking to practically beaming (or what you can consider beaming, you get a soft smile nonetheless), and digs in eagerly. It seems like enough to energize him for a couple of days, pushing away what had happened on the Loufu to the furthest reaches of his mind.

⎯ Gepard

GEPARD does not get much time in the mornings with you or himself. As captain of the guard, he has to be up early, and on call whenever the need arises. While it is very rare that he is called to dispatch an issue in the middle of the night, he is often reluctant to simply leave you in the morning. Of course, he won’t wake you for his own selfish reasons, he just simply wishes he could get more time to enjoy your presence in the morning.

As quietly as he tries to move, somehow he always wakes you up, or perhaps that's what your sleep cycle has gotten used to. Oftentimes, you wake up when he’s taking his shower, his soft humming rising over the sound of water. You know he only does this when he believes he is alone or heard, and every single time, you can’t help but think of it as cute. But you won’t tell him you heard it.

Most of the time you stay up so you can say goodbye to Gepard and tell him to have a good day, while he stumbles over excuses that he doesn’t need. He’s adorable in all his fluster, before he finally collects himself with a deep breath. He promises he’ll see you at the end of the day, and that he’ll bring some dinner home from one of your favorite restaurants.

⎯ Caelus

What adventure with CAELUS drag you on next? That’s a constant question that haunts your mind every time an adventure is done. The most sleep you get is on the Express, in between missions. In the morning’s, he wakes up with such determination, it’s almost impressive. He could have the worst sleep of his life and he wakes up raring to go.

Of course, he does his best not to wake you if you aren’t up. In fact, he’ll do his best to be as quiet as possible, sneaking out of the room, and even tip-toeing down the cabins. Like any little movement will wake his precious partner up. However, sometimes, when he’s feeling a little clingy, he’ll cuddle back in bed and pull you really close, refusing to let go unless you need to do something.

On the occasion you guys are out on a mission, he is the complete opposite. He could wake up well into the noon and groan and complain about not getting enough sleep, even if he slept like a baby. Of course, he wants to get on with his adventures, but at the same time, the hotel’s bed is soooo comfy, and he doesn’t want to leave. Which, he’ll keep you there too until he’s fully awake, spooning you and hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

⎯ Welt

On his days off, which seems to be most days now, WELT sleeps in only a little. Mornings with him are nothing short of intimate, simply laying there in each others arms, muttering sweet words. Truth be told, he enjoys these quiet moments, even if they push back the work he has to get done around the Express.

Still, no one's complaining, right? The work he has to get done will get done eventually, and he can spare a couple hours for his beloved. He cherishes every stolen second, as the hours tick away, his fingers trailing over your skin, before cupping your face. Framing his entire world in his palm.

However, you can’t stay in bed forever. Unfortunately, you do have to get up, and start your day. Welt won’t leave your side, though. Not if he can help it, at least. You two share a shower together, some more words, of course, and even cook together afterwards. Pom Pom huffs and puffs about not only Welt, but you being late and taking too long, and how the Express is founded on the structure of the schedule. It’s okay, however, because Pom Pom will be thanking you two for your hard work (sweeping the other cabins, cleaning the windows, and vacuuming the carpet) at the end of the day.

© freyito, 2024 | masterlist | queue | kofi | discord server (16+) | star header by roseschoices DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[flawseer]

In your last ask, you mentioned misgivings with Book 10's ending, and especially how it pertains to Winter. I absolutely agree, and I know why, but I wanna hear your thoughts on it, too: What's up with Book 10?

The following is a (very long) examination of my personal feelings with regards to the WoF second story arc finale. While it is based on what is in the text, this analysis will be interpretive and fill in blanks with my own thoughts. Keep that in mind.

Hahhhh... okay. Since mentioning it in my last post I’ve gotten several requests to talk about my feelings regarding the second arc finale. There’s probably no way around it then.

If you haven’t read that last post (it was admittedly very long, and so will this one be), I talked briefly about why I didn’t like that part of the story. I have to warn you now, this will likely be the most negative and dour post in the history of this blog. In a few parts it will sound like I hate Wings of Fire, and I want to say now, while I still have the chance, that I don’t. I love this series, thinking about its setting and characters brings me joy.

I also—very emphatically—want to make it clear that I have no ill will against Tui T. Sutherland. I’ve looked around other people’s stuff a bit and there are a huge number of posts wishing violence upon her or threatening her for doing things to her series that people don’t agree with. That is NOT what I am doing here, shit like that is NOT okay! While I will be critical of her choices, I still respect her effort of bringing this vibrant, wonderful world of dragons to all of us.

Also, obligatory last disclaimer: If you liked the finale, that is okay. You are valid for feeling that way. I’m here to share my point of view, not to demand people agree with everything I say. Just be warned that you most likely won’t enjoy what I have to say. If you don’t think you can handle that kind of criticism, this is your guilt-free opportunity to stop reading.

Otherwise, let's get into it.

CW: Discussion of parental abuse, depression, disease, and extreme acts of violence.

In defense of the finale

Before I start to systematically disassemble this narrative and get lost in a quagmire of negativity, let’s talk a bit about the circumstances that brought forth this part of the story. The plot of this arc was a mess from the moment animus magic was unshackled from the restrictions it had in the first arc, and from then on there was no longer any conceivable way to end this story in a clean way. Sutherland had created an invincible, unbeatable, omnipotent villain; he could read minds, see the future with perfect clarity, and anything he could imagine he could conjure into existence at any time with no cost to himself and no drawbacks. She was likely wracking her brain about how to resolve this impossible conundrum. What we got wasn’t good, but I believe nothing could have been. The foundation was rotting and by the fifth book it couldn’t bear the weight of the plot anymore.

The thing about animus magic in arc 2 is that it is so potent, so all-powerful, and so free of restraint that everyone who uses it also HAS to be a simpleton, or they would be able to break the plot immediately and become god. From the moment Darkstalker broke out of that mountain, he could have said “Any and all spells that are cast with the intention to harm me, interfere with my plans, or do something I don’t consent to will not work, from now on until forever”, and he would have instantly won. The strawberry would have fizzled out. The Darkstalker-blocking earrings would not have been created, and no one could have saved the Icewings. On the flipside, Turtle or Anemone could have said “I enchant the concept of animus magic itself to no longer obey Darkstalker”, and his threat would have been neutered. Point is, powers as potent and easy to use as this really need limitations, or they will quickly eat your plot alive.

I don’t envy the situation Sutherland was in at the time at all. If you’re an author, that kind of thing is a nightmare. It really is no wonder she decided to blow up animus magic for good in her next arc, even if I would have preferred it to get more healthy restrictions instead of killing it outright.

The Darkstalker age regression thing

Everyone has talked this part to death already, but if I am to write a thorough analysis of my feelings regarding this finale, I’m going to have to talk about it as well. I’m sorry if I end up repeating a lot of things you’ve already heard.

This final fate of Darkstalker, to have his memories wiped and be reset to an infant, is really uncomfortable. As far as I am aware, though correct me if I’m wrong, Sutherland said in an interview that she didn’t want Darkstalker to die because, in her view, he did not deserve to. We can debate here about the philosophical question of whether anyone is truly deserving of death, and the merits of “justice” and “punishment”, but in general, Wings of Fire did not seem to have any issues killing off its villains prior if they committed suitably terrible acts. That makes this moment stand out as noteworthy.

Who is Darkstalker then--and if we assume villains can be “deserving” and “not deserving” of death--what about him speaks in his favor, or against? The guy had a pretty crappy childhood, coming from a broken home (there is that inadequate parent theme again). He genuinely loved his sister and felt protective of her, and whenever he liked someone he wanted them to be happy and feel affirmed. The thing that Queen Diamond does to his mother is awful and he is justified in hating her for it. He is also portrayed as rather sympathetic in Moon Rising. When he asks Moon to find his scroll for him and not to leave him, he is not manipulating her, he is sincerely begging for her help. He is stuck somewhere underground, trapped in darkness, in a space so tiny that he can’t move. He remains that way for months, lonely and sad. If you just focus on these aspects, it’s easy to understand why he has so many fans who want him to see healthy and happy.

On the flipside, while he is dedicated to the happiness of his friends, he doesn’t always go for the most ethical way to achieve it. He tries to brainwash said friends without their consent whenever they exhibit behaviors he doesn’t like, or when he thinks he knows better and wants to “fix” them. He has very little regard for other people’s autonomy, lies to his loved ones with alarming frequency, and is unhealthily attached to the idea of power. Those things are certainly not good, but they are his character flaws. These are his demons; everyone has them and they make him a person. If this was all there was to it, he might still be a villain, but I’d argue he’d not be wholly irredeemable.

But there are things about him that take him beyond the pale. Things that go beyond the realm of just being misunderstood, or easily excusable.

He is possessive. He wants Clearsight and Fathom for himself, and for them to listen to him primarily. When Indigo makes it clear she doesn’t like him and cautions Fathom against trusting him, he deceives his friends and traps Indigo in a wood carving, just so he can isolate Fathom from his support network and manipulate him easier. He alters Clearsight’s mind to make her more agreeable and stop her from holding him accountable for his actions; while he thinks he loves her, he only loves an idealized version of her that is wholly devoted to and unquestioning of him. This is why, when he later forcibly overwrites Fierceteeth’s existence to recreate her (which is another horrific thing), he tries to excise the parts he finds undesirable to create a perfect version of his lover. But this caricature he has created in his head is not and can never be Clearsight, which frustrates his attempts.

He is vengeful. Not against people who have actually wronged him, like Queen Diamond. That would be questionable, but understandable. What makes this unacceptable is his frequent targeting of innocent people who just happen to be related to the person who wronged him in some esoteric way. He enchants a secret murder knife that kills random Icewings regardless of who they are or what they think about the Queen, just because the one who took his mother from him happened to share their tribe. He hates Turtle and wishes death upon him in Moon Rising just because he is a green Seawing, like Fathom was. And then there is the big one: He tries to kill all the Icewings who are alive in the present day, where Queen Diamond is long dead and none of them have ever even met her. Even his mother, who suffered from Diamond’s actions the most and has the most reason to hate her, is horrified and calls him out on that one.

And lastly, he is sadistic. He revels in torturing those he hates. He forces his father to disembowel himself, while the latter is fully aware and powerless to resist AND the man’s traumatized daughter is watching. Later he sends a magical plague to kill every single living Icewing sans one.

It should be noted that Darkstalker possesses virtually infinite magical power; whatever he declares, with very few exceptions, will happen. Even if he wanted them dead, he had the power to prevent unnecessary suffering. He could have said “Arctic, fall dead instantaneously”, or “Every Icewing will fall asleep and pass away peacefully,” but he didn’t. He wanted them to feel pain and pass away in the most wretched, agonizing ways he could imagine.

So what he chose to do instead is—and I want you to picture this for a moment—Darkstalker sat down, calmly, and said “Henceforth every living Icewing, excepting Prince Winter and those of hybrid blood, will fall ill with an incurable disease. This disease will cause heavy internal bleeding and make its victims cough up blood and waste away for a few days, followed by certain death.”

This spell does not discriminate with regards to who its victims are. The book glosses over the implications, but imagine the ramifications. Young children are notoriously frail, how many newborns got infected and died because of this? How many families were torn apart because they couldn’t get the magic earrings fast enough? Or accidentally got one earring less than there were family members and had to decide who has to die?

Most of the Icewings were physically cured by the earrings, but an experience like that sticks with you for the rest of your life. Somewhere surely, a dragonet watched as his mother put the earring on him and then slowly wasted away because she didn’t have one for herself.

It’s really easy to overlook how horrific this spell is because it isn’t shown or dwelt on. But the trauma, grief, and suffering it caused must have been immeasurable.

And none of those victims have ever even met the person Darkstalker wanted to get revenge on. None of those deaths meant anything to anyone.

The attempted death toll and scale of the calamity here puts even Scarlet to shame. The ones who come closest to it were Queen Battlewinner and Morrowseer with their attempted Rainwing extermination. All three of those died for what they did. Gives you some food for thought for sure.

Peacemaker’s burden

Despite just airing all of his dirty laundry and declaring him an irredeemable villain, I actually do have a lot of sympathy for Darkstalker still. His story is really sad. He was a child born with an amount of power that nobody should possess, and it corrupted him to the point where it destroyed his life before it began. His parents were always fighting and no matter how good his intentions were, he was unable to understand why he couldn’t hold on to his friends and relationship. He kept making mistakes, then made bigger mistakes to fix those, until his hands were covered in blood and he couldn’t stop anymore. My belief is that, after he wakes up in the present and realizes Clearsight is dead, he loses his reason for living and becomes completely lost in his grief.

Therefore, my opinion is that it would have been appropriate for him to die. If not to punish him, then to finally grant him reprieve from all that rage and pain, and let him rest. I think that would have been a dignified end.

But instead he got turned into a baby. ... And then they decided to magically erase his father’s blood from him? I don’t know what it is, but something about that Icewing erasure makes my skin crawl?

The thing that turns this baby twist from weird into highly unsettling is the context. Darkstalker’s mind is erased, then modified into a new person via animus magic. This is the technique a lot of this arc’s villains used to victimize Hailstorm, Queen Ruby, Peril, Kinkajou, Fierceteeth, and Winter. The same technique is now used again, by the heroes, which is a dangerous thing to have your protagonists do if you want them to remain morally upright.

It is also very reckless, because in almost all of these instances, animus mind alteration has been shown to be very unreliable. The spells seem to wear down over time and are susceptible to partial breaking upon encountering certain strong stimuli. Hailstorm—while trapped as Pyrite—seems to retain trace amounts of his former memories, which is why Pyrite is subconsciously drawn to Winter and clings to him all the time. Ruby is able to ignore half of her conditioning because her familial love for her son partially overpowers the magic. Qibli is just straight up able to reason his way out of it.

The thing to note here is that spells of this nature require a very meticulous approach; you can’t half-ass your reprogramming or the victim will just think their way past it. If you alter someone’s mind, the wording of the spell must be ironclad, lest you risk it wearing down over time and even break.

Luckily we have nothing to fear in that regard, because the spell that created Peacemaker was written by a Rainwing with a total of four days of literacy training. No one better mention the name Clearsight to the new baby Nightwing, or next month is going to be rather interesting.

But that’s just speculation on my part. Let’s assume that, somehow, this spell isn’t as unstable as all the others. Somehow Kinkajou threaded all the needles, and masterfully dodged every conceivable pitfall to pen the perfect incantation, despite having been illiterate just a few weeks prior. This one is built to last and Darkstalker is sealed away really thoroughly, for good.

That is still absolutely terrible and morally dubious, because now you have Peacemaker, who for all intents and purposes is a COMPLETELY innocent little kid, saddled with this huge burden of being the certifiable reincarnation of a genocidal ancient wizard. He’s gonna grow up thinking things like “Mommy gets real quiet whenever the topic of the Icewing tragedy is brought up,” and “Why does Auntie Moon look at me like that? One time she accidentally called me a weird name, who is Darkstalker?” “What is this ‘Clearsight’ name my mind-reading friends from the village found in Mommy’s mind?”

In a village that will be full of mind-readers soon, eventually the secret will come out, and Peacemaker is going to learn what was done to him. A huge, messy load of undeserved baggage was forced onto this completely separate, innocent entity. He will be devastated. Whether he then chooses to forgive them for this remains to be seen. To be honest, he would be well within his right not to, and turn resentful.

Poor kid.

Qibli’s callousness

I love Qibli, he is one of my favorite characters. This happens to be his book, and the fact that I fundamentally dislike half of it makes me rather sad. If anything, I hope this tells you that I’m not just hating on it for my personal amusement. I really wanted to like this. I tried to, and I couldn’t.

Qibli is really weird in this one, to be honest. He is suddenly made to be co-dependent on Moonwatcher, fawning over her every third paragraph, saying how much he loves her, how he is an incomplete and dysfunctional wreck without her, how it physically pains him to be apart from her, oh if only the stars would grant his wish and split the mountains apart so that he may fly to his princess, his muse, his goddess of ebony wit. It gets so old.

And it’s not Qibli. He never acted this clingy towards Moonwatcher. It’s more intense than even Winter gets about Moon, and Winter was actually depicted with a crush on her in book 6. Qibli was always just a supportive element, eager to befriend Moon but never desperate, like he is going to keel over if he is separated from his true love five minutes longer. These very frequent love declarations feel so forced coming out of him. It strikes me like it was just written in service of the love triangle. Maybe if we make him confess his love every four seconds readers will overlook the fact that they had no proper romantic build-up.

You might rightly accuse me of bias. I have previously admitted I am fond of Qibli/Winter as a romantic pairing, on the surface this seems like I am just not happy with my pet ship being blocked by Moonwatcher. But I assure you, I am actually pretty flexible and accommodating even towards pairings that contradict my preferences. I have no issues with Winter/Moonwatcher, for example, because the possibility was properly established and they have good romantic chemistry in Winter Turning. In theory, I would have no problem with Qibli/Moonwatcher either if it was ever set up as an interesting romantic dynamic. But to me, it seems like Qibli is written as a good, supportive friend to Moon for four books, only to pivot hard into “Moon moon moon moon moon moon swoon” at the last second, and it just reads to me as obnoxious.

I got distracted. This section is called “Qibli’s callousness”, and I haven’t even talked about the main part.

Qibli and Winter have excellent chemstry together, whether you read it as romantic or platonic—both of these interpretations have merit and are set up. They’re always the highlight of any scene they’re in. Throughout the story arc you get the impression that these two really get on each other’s nerves, but they bond and grow into really strong friends who bicker a lot but have each other’s backs when it counts.

Then there is a scene where Qibli casually tells Winter that he wouldn’t object if someone wanted to mind-control away some of Winter’s more objectionable traits.

This is genuinely a terrible thing to say to your friend. Like, it crosses a line and ceases to be harmless banter; you’re just telling them that there is something you hate about them so much that you wish they were someone else. Winter actually WAS mind-controlled earlier and felt (and proably still feels) guilty about having attacked Qibli in that state. And now Qibli says “Hey, I wouldn’t mind if someone did that to you again! Hue hue!”

It is awful, BUT I don’t necessarily object to Qibli saying this here. Qibli is in the middle of his character arc at this moment, so he is expected to be flawed. He is making a mistake by thoughtlessly telling Winter this horrid thing, and it seems like a believable continuation of his current character track. This is a reasonable development as long as the plot acknowledges that it’s a mistake.

Spoilers: The plot doesn’t acknowledge that it’s a mistake. Qibli never has a scene after where he reflects upon what he said and apologizes to Winter. When Darkstalker has Qibli trapped in his mountain jail and mind-wipes Qibli’s grandfather into a toddler (hey, wait a minute), Qibli gets visibly disturbed. Like, this is so off-putting to him that he gets queasy and Darkstalker hastily changes the spell. That could have been a great way to bring this back. Like in the epilogue, have Qibli track down Winter and tell him about disturbing baby grandpa theater and how he realized that wiping people’s minds is actually messed up and should have never said that to him.

But he doesn’t. He just lets Winter go, allowing him to believe he is broken and needs magical intervention to be tolerable. It leaves me to think that maybe he’s still okay with it, and fantasizing about rewriting his friend’s mind. Great.

Moonwatcher’s character death

You will find as this goes on that, I get the impression that the second half of this book takes all of the wonderful, endearing characters I have learned to love throughout the story and replaces them with really mean, or stupid, or otherwise inaccurate caricatures.

Moonwatcher’s relationship with Darkstalker gets plenty of setup and development in Moon Rising. You get the sense that these two could be great friends if their circumstances were a little different. It does a great job at making you think maybe Darkstalker is just misunderstood; maybe Moon should free him from his predicament.

Then at the end of Escaping Peril comes the emotional gut punch. Darkstalker actually IS a villain. He callously admits to Moonwatcher that he used his magic to make his own father gruesomely disembowel himself. Moonwatcher is horrified and disgusted that he would do that. There is no circumstance in which something like that would ever be okay. She ends the scene awash in tears because the person she thought was her friend is a murderer and a sadist. This is good, that is a natural reaction to what she was just told.

A few hours from there, in Talons of Power, Turtle finds Moon again and she is completely cool with Darkstalker walking free, despite crying her eyes out after feeling so betrayed earlier. That may seem strange, but this is still good because later, Darkstalker’s mind control plot is discovered. This scene was obviously written to set that up, Moon is mind-controlled into forgetting that Darkstalker could do something that morally reprehensible, and thus forgives him. This is also completely in line with his characterization in Legends: Darkstalker. It’s a kind of stunt he would pull to get Clearsight to shut up about him slipping into villainy.

In my earlier post I alluded to a moment where Moon is set to narrative auto-pilot and says something so rampantly off-kilter that it does irreversible, permanent damage to her character. It happens here, in the second half of book 10. Qibli gives Moon the Darkstalker protection earring, and Moon, somehow, says “I’m not being mind-controlled, Darkstalker really is my friend.”

I get what the plot tries to do here. It’s taking this concept of mind-control and adding a nuance, in an attempt to flesh out Darkstalker and give his character depth. He is ready to control everyone in the world, but for Moon, who is his best friend in this era, he wants her to remain herself. Perhaps this is his attempt at attonement for playing with Clearsight’s mind and driving her away from him. It is very touching in a way, viewed in isolation.

Unfortunately, it does not work with the full context of all the books. Because Moon is in auto-pilot mode right now, her main character trait is “Darkstalker=Friend,” so naturally she would speak in support of him. But this revelation has devastating retroactive consequences. The earlier scene that was written with Moon under mind-control is now altered into her having been in her right mind! She is completely okay with Darkstalker’s admittance to cold-blooded torture and evisceration, within hours of being so shocked by it that it made her cry and ready to denounce him. That is such a quick turnaround it’s giving me whiplash. And what’s more it turns Moon from a principled, upstanding girl into a sociopath who casually accepts gruesome torture and murder if it is committed by someone she likes.

Did Sutherland forget about the scene two books ago, where Darkstalker’s actions were so inconceivably horrid for Moon to learn of that she started crying? It baffles me that this made it into the final version. Her saying she was never mind-controlled makes Moon come off as so awful. This torture-excusing lunatic is not the same kind-hearted and insightful character I followed in all the other books.

Kinkajou’s character derailment

The world is a sad place when I have to question the way Kinjajou is written. Fortunately she is mostly fine, despite her having the biggest excuse to act out-of-character since she’s the victim of a mind-altering spell. Her only real moment of “what!?” comes at the end.

I already talked about her role in casting the spell that regresses Darkstalker into an infant. But I didn’t mention how her being the source of it is questionable in itself.

The clue is in the first paragraph of this section: She herself has experienced the effects of invasive mind-alteration. She was cursed by Anemone in the previous book to be in love with Turtle, and kind of half-struggles kind of not with it, it’s really strange. Turtle is appropriately horrified and acts like really awful things are happening, but then it’s mostly played lightly for some reason. My assumption is that Sutherland introduced this plot point, but then realized how uncomfortable this premise really is and tried to downplay it until the story got to a point where it could get done away with.

But I think the takeaway is still supposed to be that this was a horrid thing to do (which it absolutely is), and that Kinkajou will have to spend a lot of time trying to untangle her real emotions from the fake ones the spell created.

The point is: Kinkajou knows first-hand how awful it is to do something like that to another person. Ideally she should never even conceive of the idea to cast a spell like that, but if we’re really set on this Darkstalker baby thing and it has to happen, she should at least be a bit hesitant about it. And afterwards she should struggle with the guilt of having resorted to it. Not celebrate it and be proud, like it’s funny.

The assassination of Winter’s future

Now we come to the part I’ve alluded to previously; the part where all of these threads converge to utterly destroy one character and drive him to the brink of ruin. Let’s talk about Winter.

Prince Winter is the son of Tundra and Prince Narwhal, hatching in the same clutch as his sister Icicle. He spent his formative years being unfavorably compared to said sister—who easily took to traits that Icewing royalty considers desirable—whereas Winter struggled greatly to embody those same ideals. He was just a little too kind, too merciful, too gentle. As a result he often had to endure abuse from his parents, who made him feel like he was defective.

Because he was young and didn’t have any other frame of reference, he embraced this abusive narrative and began to drive himself with a vigor unreasonable for someone of his age. He scraped and cloyed for every bit of credit he could get, obsessing over advancing up the circle rankings in an attempt to “purge” the wrongness out of himself. To make his parents as proud of him as they were of Icicle.

This never worked. He was always seen as the runt, poised to embarrass the family name. Whatever he did, no matter how hard he strived, there was always something he could have done better.

The only real source of love and affirmation in his life was his older brother, Hailstorm. Where everyone else only saw what Winter wasn’t, Hailstorm embraced his brother despite of his “failings” and was openly affectionate with him. When Winter was with him, it was okay to not think about rankings all the time, and just be himself for a bit. I assume Hailstorm fulfilled a similar role for Icicle as well, which is why both of them love him dearly, and Icicle destroys her own life to bring him back.

Winter also has a fascination with scavengers, possibly because they are small and perceived as useless, like he himself is. He likely feels a kinship with them and observes them being craftier and more adept than everyone else sees them. This is therapeutic for him, to see that a thing can have merit even if no one wants to see it.

One day, he and Hailstorm sneak into Skywing territory so Winter can catch a scavenger as a pet. This excursion turns hostile when they are discovered by a roaming Skywing troop and faced with the prospect of capture, possibly execution. In a gambit to save Winter from this fate, Hailstorm mirrors the words of his parents, calling Winter pathetic and useless, so the Skywings will not think of him as a threat and show mercy. His act succeeds in convincing the Skywings, but it also convinces Winter, who does not understand Hailstorm only said these things to save his life. He returns home—believing his brother hated him all along—to face the wrath of his furious family for losing them “the desirable son”.

For all of his life, these themes have repeated themselves and haunted him. “I was born wrong and defective,” “I am unlovable,” “No one wants me.”

A few months after the war ends, Winter is one of the five Icewings enrolled in the newly founded Jade Mountain Academy. Shortly after departing, he unexpectedly returns home, having successfully rescued his older brother and bringing him back. He is made to believe that this erases his mistakes, his mother even pays him a backhanded compliment, an uncharacteristically “nice” gesture. He is promoted to the top of the rankings, finally his parents are proud of him.

But of course it is all a trick. The “adoration” afforded to him was all a ploy. Secretly, his parents abused power and tradition to arrange for Winter’s death. They force him into a lethal trial they intentionally rigged against him, all to finally erase that stain on their family’s honor.

Winter finally realizes the true nature of his parents’ opinion of him. Even when he succeeds, and does everything right, he is still defective, unlovable, and unwanted. He will never be anything else to his family. And so he leaves his homeland, pretending he is dead, resigned to live in hiding forever.

During this time, while at the brink of despair, Winter is able to draw strength from one source: His new friends from the academy. He vocalizes that, for all the abuse he suffered at the hands of his birth family, he fervently believes that THEY would never do anything like that to him. They chose to stuck with him, even when he was awful, and told him he was not hopeless. He was not a mistake; he could be deserving of love.

So naturally, he returns to them; they accept him readily, are willing to be his new surrogate family. When he almost burns to death at a later point, they fear and weep for him. When Qibli sets out to confront his own abusive family, Winter, despite being mind-controlled into a placid potato at the time, feels concerned enough for his friend’s safety to insist to come along (returning the favor of them accompanying him in his time of need in book 7). When Darkstalker’s mind control forces Winter to attack Qibli, he is shown ashamed and guilty of it once the control wears off again.

They bicker and struggle, and make mistakes, they break up but always come back together again. Time and time again the one thing that is always reinforced: When the cards are down, Winter loves his friends, and they love him. They would never intentionally hurt each other, or give up on each other.

I want you to keep in mind how wholesome, and loving, and mutually supportive this ramshackle band of misfits has been portrayed to this point... Because we’re moving on to the arc 2 finale, and it will do everything it can to corrupt all of it and consign Winter to a life of misery.

We arrive at aforementioned scene, where Moonwatcher receives her earring. Just a little bit prior, Winter had learned that Darkstalker unleashed a magical plague onto his people in an attempt to wipe them out. Now here is Moonwatcher, revealing that she is not under any spell, and has aligned herself with this guy willingly, speaking fondly of him as if he was a dear friend who never did any wrong. Winter takes this badly and accidentally breaks a vase; the narrative lingers on this moment and really tries to sell us on how unreasonable Winter’s reaction is, how he is overreacting, but let’s examine that interpretation for a moment.

Moonwatcher doesn’t yet know about the attempted Icewing genocide, but she DOES know about Darkstalker being okay with casting spells to inflict immeasurable torture upon those he hates. WE know that she knows this, so her stance here is already suspect. Yet she goes on to praise Darkstalker and refer to him as a friend. Look at this from Winter’s perspective. This “friend” of Moonwatcher just tried to kill his entire tribe, and he actually succeeded in killing his aunt, Queen Glacier, a person Winter greatly respects. Winter is currently unable to return to his homeland for fear of being branded a traitor. Even if he could return, he knows his obstinate and spiteful family would prevent him from attending the funeral, meaning he is not even afforded the basic dignity of saying farewell to his aunt. The aunt whom Darkstalker murdered by making her vomit her own blood until she withered away in her bed. And here is Moon, absolving the person who did this to Glacier from his appalling actions, despite knowing full well what Darkstalker is capable of and choosing to look away.

I don’t know about you, but I think I can forgive the grieving, emotionally overwhelmed boy for shattering a little pottery after hearing his trusted friend—who held his hand when he was dying—say that the guy who makes people disembowel themselves and wipes out entire countries may be misunderstood and not so bad. I think I would have a similar reaction. In fact, I would never want to talk to her ever again.

There is no way I can read this scene in which Moon doesn’t come off as either an absolute lunatic, or critically stupid and callous. In fact, based on her earlier behavior I half-expect her to get over the news of the attempted Icewing massacre in a couple hours, saying “Eh, it’s kinda bad, but you just have to do these kinds of things sometimes, you know? I’m sure he had his reasons.”

Then there is the part where Qibli makes his off-color comment about how Winter’s brain could really use a good wash. I already went into how it could have worked but didn’t. But with the timing here, we’ve already had Moon spit on their friendship, so as Winter’s other closest friend, it naturally follows that Qibli also craps on his feelings.

Consider the context: Winter comes from an abusive household where his parents forcibly tried to change him away from who he was to purge the “wrongness” from him. When they betray him and he narrowly escapes their attempt on his life, he re-affirms his belief in his friends, and the knowledge that they wouldn’t treat him like that gives him the strength he needs to keep going. But now, Qibli asserts that Winter DOES need to be altered, thereby AGREEING with Winter’s abusive parents, rendering Winter’s affirmation from book 7 erroneous. Qibli WOULD treat him like that if it made Winter less “intolerable”.

Neither Moonwatcher nor Qibli ever make an attempt to repair this rift. Winter is left betrayed and alone.

Stuff happens, and the forces of the Nightwings and Icewings come to blows over Jade Mountain. With his two closest friends having written him off and his support network eroded, Winter relapses into thinking he is worthless, seeks validation in unquestioning patriotism, and realigns himself with his abusive family by throwing himself into the battle. Nobody wants him to, in fact his parents still hate him for it, but whatever. His father dies and his mother blames him for it.

Meanwhile Turtle, Anemone, and Qibli are cooking up a solution to the battle problem. They have the idea to make everyone’s minds connect in a huge empathy wave for a few moments, which I think is a pretty interesting idea for what it’s worth. But then they teleport both armies back to their homes, and the spell sweeps Winter up with them, taking him out of the rest of the finale and bringing him to the Ice Kingdom. The characters say “whoops” but aren’t further concerned with the situation. It’s all a big laugh.

Let me remind you that Winter is currently considered not welcome on Icewing territory. His family, whom he was sent back with, is extremely abusive and vindictive. His friends know this. Said parents have previously arranged for him to be killed, and are still on record as wanting him dead. His friends KNOW this. And now he is alone with them and a gaggle of other royal Icewings who all are extremely pissed off at him for ruining their sacred trial site.

It is very possible that he is being torn apart and mauled by an enraged mob right now. He could be forced into captivity and flayed. Maybe the interim regent is sentencing him to death and getting the rope ready. There is a million different horrible things that could be happening to Winter right now, while he is trapped alone with people who hate him, things his friends would be reasonably able to anticipate. And nobody is doing anything to get him out of there, to suggest bringing him back, even though it would only take a single spoken sentence to do so! They aren’t even concerned!

Then the climax happens, strawberry thing and all, and we get the coup de grâce. After all is said and done, the group decides that Winter is untrustworthy, and that they must protect the secret of Darkstalker’s fate from him, because they fear if he knew he would kill Peacemaker.

Moon, who read Winter’s mind in book 6 and reached out to him about how the “ruthless Icewing warrior” persona in his head is a facade and how she sees he has a gentle and good heart... Moon, who in book 7 finds out about Winter’s secret deal to kill Glory and STILL trusts him, who calls out his bullshit to his face because she KNOWS how kind-hearted Winter is and that he would never resort to murder... Moon who, again, held his hand while he was dying... thinks that the dragon she has reminded of his compassionate nature time and time again would kill an innocent child.

This is disgusting. Moon believing that is so far off the mark with regards to anything this group has embodied or done for any of the last 4 books, that my only conclusion can be that these are different characters. Maybe the Nightwing library collapsed on top of original Moon, and when Darkstalker magiced her back to health she came back wrong or something. I don’t know.

So after all of this, Winter is left alone. He somehow escaped from the Ice Kingdom; luckily there is a timeskip so we can just gloss over the horrible situation he was put in by his friends. He thinks about Jade Mountain. He reflects on everything that happened, how his parents never really loved him... How they hated him so much they tried to kill him... How he despaired, but found solace in his friends who loved him for who he was.... How those friends then betrayed him too and magiced him away... How they didn’t care about what happened to him... And he decides he is done. He won’t bother going back. A few people, probably Sunny, reach out to tell him he is welcome back, but he says “it wouldn’t be fair to other Icewings if an exile took up a bed”. The decision isn’t hard to make, after all there is nothing left for him there. Everyone has written him off, moved on and left him behind.

Kinkajou visits sometimes, tries to stay in touch, but that’s just how she is. Maybe the others sent her to check on whether he’s going to become troublesome. They don’t trust him. Better to keep an eye on him, he might kill the baby.

With nowhere else to go, Winter moves to Sanctuary, a place for rejects like him. I picture him standing there, at the edge of a cliff staring blankly into the distance. He is completely alone; no one wants to go near him or talk to him beyond the bare necessities. He could probably make new friends with the Talons of Peace if he tried, but there is no point. Why should someone like him have friends? It wouldn’t work. They’d just decide he is too inconvenient to be around. Sooner or later they would just tell him to leave anyway. It's better not to try, so he doesn't get hurt again.

And slowly it dawns on him. His parents had been right all along. It was never them, or the others, it was him. He is the problem. The Icewings said it, Qibli said it, Moonwatcher said it. There is just something fundamentally wrong with him.

He is defective. He is unlovable. Nobody wants him. He will never be anything, or have anyone. And so he stands at the cliff, looking over the broken vase fragments of his life... This is who he is. Prince Winter. A mistake.

And quietly, where no one knows or cares, he does the only thing he has left to do... he begins to weep.

As it is written, the tale of Winter is the story of a boy who is told he is wrong for being alive. He closes his ears and tries to keep walking forward, desperate to prove that he is not an error, that he has merit. But this book comes out and it unmistakably says that he doesn’t. He is nothing, and he deserves to have nothing.

And I just cannot accept that.

Why did this have to happen?

I think that the author was really struggling with the ending of this book. I’ve said before how much of a corner she wrote herself into with such an invincible villain. I think she came up with the strawberry idea as a solution to this problem. But as she was writing it, the characters kept fighting her. It was not a natural solution, not a decision the characters—as they were established—would ever make.

So concessions had to be made to force the issue. Established traits had to be bent slightly to make this plot work. The farther she went, the worse it got. The concessions piled up and turned into contrivances. Eventually the characters were no longer acting like themselves. Their bonds got stretched too far and some snapped. It’s a very tragic pitfall that occurs with long-running series.

I think Sutherland must have also been tired. Writing an entire book is a monumental task, and writing 6 connected ones even moreso. She also comes out with these things really quickly. Maybe she was burnt out? Maybe she wanted to be done and her attention lapsed. Maybe that’s why she forgot that Moon knew about the disemboweling. It seems reasonable to believe when you consider that the next story arc would make a relatively clean break from the problems of this arc, especially with regards to the magic system.

But I don’t know what ultimately happened, so I can only speculate. I reiterate, I bear no ill will against Sutherland for writing this. Even if I kind of hate everything about this finale, and very vocally wish it would be different, I don’t want this examination to generate (or reawaken) any hatred towards her, or to attack her personally. I understand the pain of an artist who gets trapped with something for too long and has to find the means, any means, to see it through to the end. I criticize the story, but I could never hate anyone for that.

But for me, I do not consider this half of the book as part of the story. The characters act too unnaturally for it to have happened. So to me, it didn’t. We don’t know what happened, maybe Darkstalker is still out there. Maybe they dealt with him. Maybe what actually happened is my crappy and self-indulgent rewrite of the ending which I will never show to anyone because it would be really embarrassing.

But whatever actually ended up happening, I am sure Winter never ended up at that cliff, pondering how worthless and meaningless his life was. He is currently at Jade Mountain, surrounded by friends who love him, and bickering with Qibli about the correct solution to their advanced calculus assignment that is due tomorrow.

Is there anything left to say?

Probably.

I didn’t talk about Anemone yet. You know, in the epilogue she enchants herself a bracelet that makes her “not be so mean all the time”. I find that creepy. To me it reads as Anemone voluntarily brainwashing herself with magic to erase her negative traits instead of growing past them naturally because she finds them undesirable and wants to work to change for the better. I would ordinarily assume that this is an overreaction on my part, and I’m just reading the scene wrong. But no, we just got through a part where the heroes brainwashing someone is treated as an unequivocal good and worthy of celebration, so I think my reading may actually be spot on. Why are we letting the little kid alter her own brain without supervision? Hello? Tsunami? Someone intervene maybe? This cannot be healthy.

Turtle stands out to me as the one bright spot in all of this. He (and Peril, but she’s mostly out of focus) remain as the only main characters of this arc who don’t have any mind-boggling out-of-character moments or sudden streaks of uncharacteristic callousness. I really like the part where Qibli goes to free Turtle from his captivity and plans to give him an earful about the comically unhelpful messages he’s been sending him. But when Turtle asks if what he did was helpful, Qibli sees how beaten down and exhausted Turtle is, and wordlessly drops his frustration to tell him “Yeah, they were helpful.” That is the true Qibli shining through for a moment, showing that he cares about the well-being of his friends.

Do I hate the pairing of Qibli/Moonwatcher? No. Well, I DO hate how it happened in the book, and how the story tried to assassinate Winter’s character to resolve the love triangle and make it happen. I don’t hate it on principle though. If you are a fan of Qibli/Moonwatcher and want to write fanfics about it, please do! I absolutely encourage you to do that! Maybe you can fix this mess and turn it into something that’s actually properly handled!

Mightyclaws keeps the power that Darkstalker granted him past the finale. That means all the spells that Darkstalker cast are technically still active. Does that mean the Icewings have to wear earrings for the rest of their lives? Do they get sick again if they take them off? Is Peril forever cursed to think of Darkstalker as a cool old uncle and has to somehow reconcile how everyone else thinks of him? How did the Nightwings relinquishing their powers work, do they have to wear the earrings forever too now?

And there is one more thing to mention.

My confession

You may have already intuited this, if you’ve been following the content of my blog. It is very heavily skewed towards the first and second arcs of the series. I would now like to confess something.

When I read the second half of book 10, I found it so disillusioning, Winter’s fate so upsetting... that I put down the series then and there. And I haven’t picked it back up since.

That’s right, I have not read arc 3. I don’t know if that makes me a fake fan. I know pretty much everything that happens in it, the controversial twist at the end, Pyrrhia coming back into the story later, Snowfall getting brainwashed by a piece of jewelry until she cares about a plot that had nothing to do with her or the fate of the Icewings, etc..

It’s not out of malice, or because it’s a new continent. The opposite in fact; I would have greatly prefered a clean break with a new setting—Bug-themed dragons in a slightly more contemporary, developed environment sounds fascinating and full of potential. I don’t hate Pantala or the new characters.

I just... I can’t really do this again. I can’t handle the thought of Pyrrhia coming back post-Darkstalker, with Winter showing up and talking to these guys again like nothing happened, seeming like a different person, joking around with them like his entire character wasn’t dragged through a mountain of manure to make the plot bend a certain way. I think as long as this is the ending that the story is continuing from, seeing that would just make me miserable.

Maybe I will just stay in the parts of the story that I fell in love with. And imagine a version of reality in which Pantala is allowed to exist on its own, where Swordtail was the fourth POV character of arc 3, where Queen Wasp stayed the villain throughout, and Snowfall got her own legends book about how she reformed Icewing society and fixed all the shit that poisoned Winter’s life, so future generations don’t have to suffer through the same stuff he did.

~~~~~

If you’re still with me, thank you for reading this far. I think this is everything I ever thought about the finale of the second story arc, so now I never have to talk about it again. Writing this was difficult. I found it crushing at times. This will probably stand as the only overtly negative post I have ever made on this blog. I love Wings of Fire, and I want to celebrate it. To add to it, not tear it down.

I hope this wasn’t too boring, or painful, or frustrating, or soul-crushing to read through. I’ll see you later, hopefully with a more constructive post.

[meazalykov]

the forest

salma paralluelo x orienteer!reader (request)

summary: your girlfriend tries to understand the sport you participate in

salma is a bit confused when you first invite her to watch one of your orienteering competitions live. 

she’s seen a few races on tv, but never in person, and you can tell by the way she fidgets with her hands that she’s nervous, even if she won’t admit it.

“are you sure you are not just going to get lost in the woods?” she jokes when you’re explaining how it works, but there’s a hint of genuine concern in her voice.

“i will be fine,” you laugh, kissing her before heading to the starting area. 

“i’ll see you after i win, okay?”

she watches you run off with the rest of the competitors, map and compass in hand, disappearing into the forest within seconds. and for the first time, salma realizes she has no idea what’s actually happening. 

she looks around at the other spectators, all of them more prepared than her with binoculars, and GPS trackers to follow the competitors’ progress.

“what am i even supposed to be looking at?” she mumbles to herself, squinting at the forest.

in her mind, she wished that she brought esmee or alexia with her– just for some company.

“you’re here for y/n, right?”

salma turns to see a girl standing next to her, probably in her late teens, sporting a y/n fan t-shirt. her eyes are wide and excited, and salma smiles awkwardly, hoping this girl can help.

“yeah… how’d you know?”

“well, you looked super confused. that’s usually how people are when they come to watch y/n for the first time,” the girl says, a laugh bubbling up. 

“i’m natalie, by the way. big fan of hers.”

salma’s relieved that someone knows what’s going on. 

“i’m salma. nice to meet you. so, um, can you explain what i’m supposed to be watching?”

natalie grins. “okay, so it’s orienteering, right? everyone gets a map with specific points they need to reach in a set order. those points are marked by little orange and white flags hidden in the forest. the goal is to navigate to each flag as fast as possible using just the map and a compass. no GPS or shortcuts. once they find the flag, there’s a sensor that registers their time.”

salma raises her eyebrows. “so, they’re just… running around trying to find these flags?”

“pretty much,” natalie says, shrugging. 

“but it’s way more technical than it looks. like, you have to be good at reading the map while running, keeping track of where you are, and planning the best routes to each point. that’s what makes y/n so good—she’s super fast and she barely ever makes mistakes with her navigation.”

“that sounds intense.” salma glances toward the dense trees where you disappeared, her respect for you growing with every word natalie says.

salma and you met outside of both of your sports. in fact, it was a mutual friend who set you both up at a party. 

when she found out that you did a sport too, she was happy to get familiar with it. even if it sounded confusing. 

“yeah, it’s mental,” natalie agrees, nodding. “and y/n’s one of the best. she’s won a ton of races.”

salma smiles softly, feeling proud. “i know. i’ve watched her a few times on tv, but this is my first time seeing it live.”

“oh, really? well, you’re in for a treat. she’s amazing to watch in person. plus, if she’s in the best mood, she’ll be back here at the finish in no time.”

salma watches as competitors start emerging from the forest, some sprinting toward the finish line, others clearly frustrated, taking longer routes back. 

every now and then, a beep goes off as they punch in at the last control point near the finish.

natalie’s eyes light up suddenly. “look! there she is!”

salma’s heart skips a beat as she spots you darting out from between the trees, sweat running down your face but a determined expression set in your features. 

you’re one of the fastest runners out there, navigating the final stretch like it’s second nature.

“she’s flying,” salma mutters in awe, watching as you punch your last point and sprint toward the finish line. 

within seconds, you cross it, panting and grinning widely.

natalie claps excitedly. “she did it! i think she might’ve won!”

salma’s too busy watching you catch your breath to hear the announcer confirm it, but when you glance her way, she waves excitedly, a proud smile taking over her face. 

you give her a tired thumbs-up before turning to cool down with your teammates.

“wow,” salma breathes, still trying to process the speed and skill you just showed. “that was insane.”

natalie grins at her. 

“told you she’s amazing.”

salma chuckles. 

“you really know a lot about this sport.”

“yeah, been following orienteering since i was a kid. and y/n’s one of my favorites.” 

natalie shuffles her feet, a little shy all of a sudden. 

“she’s, uh, actually the reason i started orienteering.”

“really?” salma’s eyes soften, touched by the girl’s enthusiasm. “you want to meet her?”

natalie’s jaw drops. “wait, are you serious?”

“of course! it’s the least i can do after you explained everything to me,” salma says, already walking toward you. 

natalie hesitates for a moment, then quickly follows.

you’re still cooling off when you see salma and a nervous-looking girl approaching. you smile, wiping your face with a towel.

“hey, you,” salma greets you, pulling you into a quick hug. “you were amazing out there.”

“thanks,” you mumble, catching your breath. your eyes shift to natalie, who’s staring at you in awe. 

“who’s your friend?”

“this is natalie. she’s a huge fan of yours and explained the whole race to me. i thought i’d bring her over to meet you.” salma grins, gesturing to natalie. 

natalie’s cheeks flush red as she stammers, “i-it’s such an honor to meet you, y/n. i’ve been following your career for years. you’re… you’re incredible.”

“thank you, natalie. that means a lot. and thanks for helping salma out—she probably would’ve been totally lost without you.” you chuckle softly, reaching out to pull the girl into a hug. 

“definitely,” salma adds, laughing. 

“i was ready to run into the forest myself and find out what was going on.”

natalie laughs too, the tension easing as she relaxes around you. 

“seriously, though, you were amazing today. i think you won.”

“we’ll find out soon enough, but i’m glad you got to see it live. there’s something special about being here, right?” you nod, smiling at her enthusiasm. 

“definitely,” natalie agrees, her smile wide. “and i’ll be cheering for you at every race i can.”

“same here. even if i don’t fully get it yet, i’ll always be here when i don’t have my own games.” salma wraps an arm around your waist, squeezing gently. 

you laugh softly, looking between salma and natalie.

“you two are the best.”

to whoever requested, I hope you liked this!! I tried my best to do some research before writing :D

[prince-jjae]

Ceilings.

pairing; hueningkai/reader, taehyun/reader

tags; angst, mild fluff, mild smut [mdni!!!], poetic smut lol, barista!reader, barista!taehyun, jealousy, sorta maladaptive daydreaming, unhealthy coping mechanisms. lmk if i missed anything???

warnings!!!! vomiting, self-hatred, self-deprecating remarks and thoughts.

this is my first txt fanfic, and my first tumblr fic as well!! feedback is encouraged and appreciated. happy reading! title and general idea for the fic is based on the song ceilings by lizzie mcalpine.

Hyuka ending. Tyun ending. Masterlist.

summary;

"but its not real, and you dont exist. and i cant recall the last time i was kissed."

Life was easy, you were happy.. until you werent. come to think of it, had you ever truly been? now you cant even manage to get through your day without daydreaming of him. the perfect man. the one who would brighten your day, love you, save you. everything about him was perfect.

except for the fact he didnt exist.

You were cuddled up to him, thoughts swimming and keeping you perfectly dizzy as he played with your fingers. He was talking about something, rambling on about his day and what he was going to get up to in the next few weeks, but all you could focus on was the rumbling timbre of his voice, soothing your nerves like a balm. His breathing, his heartbeat, his scent, everything that made him so.. Him.

The rain battered softly against the window, but you didn’t mind. You sighed, content, head resting against his chest as you watched a race between two raindrops. You always loved dreary weather like this, as it gave you the perfect excuse to cuddle close to him and absorb his warmth. He was still mumbling into your hair, pressing kisses to the crown of your head every once in a while as if silently reminding you how much he adored you. You craved this more than air. He was sweeter than you could ever imagine, ever deserve. Nothing could take the fluttery feeling from your chest as your heart swooped and stuttered. You lifted your head to look up at him, stars in your ey-

The ringing of your phone snapped you out of your daydream. Your vision cleared as the sound jarred you back into reality, finally settling on the pillow you were cuddled against. You sighed, running your fingers through your hair in a way that tugged painfully at the knots there. You hissed but sat up, picking up your phone and holding it to your ear with a bored look on your face.

“What do you want?”

You busied yourself behind the counter of your job, moving through the motions of making coffee after coffee with practiced ease. This job was good for you, your friends decided. It allowed you to fall into an efficient routine, gave you something to stay busy with. Always moving, always working. You washed counters, mopped floors, stocked the fridges for your coworkers– anything to keep yourself busy and push the daydreams from your head.

It had been months of this. Day in, day out, dreaming of some handsome prince that with otherworldly beauty that would come save you from your mundane life. Maybe he would breathe life back into you, provide you with the spark you lost over the years.

..or did you even have it to begin with?

It started innocently enough, imagining what would like in a partner so you could finally begin opening yourself up to the idea. Being with another person had always been a terrifying idea. Letting someone so close? Allowing them to see you in all your drab, boring glory? You had counted yourself out, but your closest friend and coworker had slowly worn you down.

“Just make a list,” he had said, shrugging as if it was that easy. As if this wasnt world-crushing. “youve gotta start somewhere, right?”

And so you did. You listed every ideal thing your perfect partner could have or be. ..And then you started imagining what this perfect man would look like.. what he would sound like.. feel like-

Even now, when you were supposed to be hard at work as always, you found yourself getting distracted again, vision blurring around the edges as you made the 15th iced americano of the day.

What kind of coffee would he like? Would he like sweet things like you did? Would he like bitterness instead? It would make a nice contrast, you supposed.. you always had a sweet tooth when it came to drinks. What would his order b–

You were startled out of your thoughts as your name was sharply called. You jumped at the sound, looking down at your hands. Shit, the coffee you were making was ruined. You sighed, tossing the bitter liquid down the drain beside you before you began making a new one, completing it quickly and placing it on the counter for the customer to take.

You looked over your shoulder, frowning as you made eye-contact with your aforementioned coworker, who was watching you with sharp, judging eyes. Taehyun always knew when you fell into your fantasies, and it was beginning to get on his nerves. He grabbed your arm, tugging you back to the break room to fix you with a stern look, hands on his hips. You shrunk under his gaze.

“You're dreaming about him again, aren't you?” His words were cold as ice and straight to the point, something that you had once appreciated about him. But times like this, his straight-forwardness left much to be desired. You weren’t exactly soft either, a fellow tsundere, like your other coworkers used to call you. Taehyun always could see through you, though. Through the tough and cold exterior into the pool of softness that festered underneath.

You still flinched at his words, looking away as you adjusted your glasses on the bridge of your nose. They were dirty and smudged again, something Taehyun took notice of with a sigh. He plucked them from your face without a word and began cleaning them, glancing up at you as he did so to prompt your answer.

“It’s not like that.” You argued, slightly indignant. You couldn’t bear the thought of Taehyun seeing through you like glass. You couldn't bear the thought of anyone seeing through you.

Taehyun sighed, because he knew. He always knew, and it pissed you off to no end. “If it's ‘not like that’ then what the hell is it, huh?” He stepped closer, face steeled and calm as he placed the glasses back onto your face where they belonged.

And with that, you froze. Your pulse fluttered under your skin, and dread creeped up your throat. He couldn’t know. No one could know. You couldn't possibly tell him that not only had you indeed been fantasizing about your dream man, but you were beginning to have.. more involved daydreams. No, that was something he could never find out.

Taehyun watched the way you stiffened, eye twitching in irritation as he pushed past you to go back to work. All you could hear other than the shrill ringing in your ears were Taehyun's parting words;

“Just get back to work.”

The feeling of smooth silk and warm skin was the only thing you could think of. Plush lips and equally plush words, sweet nothings being whispered into your ear. You keened, brows furrowing as you arched into the feeling of fingertips brushing over your torso, making their intentions known as they slid lower, lower, lower still.

It drew a gasp from your lips, the fever rising under your clammy skin was slowly turning your mind to mush. He was so careful, so attentive to every little minute detail. He was perfect. Every detail about him from the fluffiness of his messy hair to the way his face would scrunch when he laughed, the sound ringing in your head like bells and just as clear. Even now, with his mouth pressing slow, saliva-slicked kisses to your skin, making you writhe under his touch, he was still perfect. He took your breath away with every movement. You found yourself becoming so lost in him that you couldn't find the line between you two– where one soul ended and the other began. Falling into pleasure with him was just as easy as breathing. Even the simple act of being near him set your soul alight, even with mundane tasks like laughing over a shitty movie, cooking easy meals together, dancing in the kitchen to your shared harmonies.

“Please–” Your voice was shaky and pleading, foreign to your own ears as your fingers clutched desperately at his arms. Your eyes watered, pretty tears clumping your lashes together in a way that made him coo down at you. You had the distinct feeling that you would surely explode if he wasn't the one holding you together with such an iron grip. The thought made a thrill pleasantly buzz under your heated skin, and you could feel his grin against your neck. What you were begging for, you hadn't a clue. All you knew was him. All you wanted was him. And gods above, you felt greedy. You needed more, more, more. Craved it, even.

You whined as he pulled away from your neck, looking down at you with the kindest eyes you'd ever have the pleasure of seeing. His mouth moved, words pillowy and full of promise, but you couldn't hear him. You never really could.

When you came down from your high with a long whine of his name, reality hit you like a bucket of ice water.

Huening Kai.

His name. You said his name. It rolled off your tongue like you were made to say it. Like the syllables were always meant to fall from your lips like a desperate prayer. A prayer to a god that didn't exist.

Saying his name suddenly made it feel real. Too real. Your stomach churned, making you lurch out of bed and scramble for the bathroom so you could empty your stomach into the porcelain. You hoped that with every obscene gag and whimper, that your dreams would be expelled, too. That you'd be free of this beautiful hell. Maybe then you could be normal.. perhaps even be loved for real.

It was later in the workday when you found yourself swaying on your feet. You hadn't gotten a wink of sleep, the gravity of your daydreams finally settling on you like a lead weight around your neck. You could only hope it would take you under the angry waves of your turbulent mental state.

It was sick, right? You were sick for this. Feeling so desperate and lonely that you would make up a whole boyfriend. A perfect, loving boyfriend. But none of it was real. He didn't exist, only in your twisted little brain. Had you really been so pathetically alone that you had to dream about being loved? Being wanted?

Taehyun caught your eye with a sideways glance, and you knew instantly that he knew. How was he so perceptive? How did he always know? Your shoulders sagged as you could assume how this would end. Sure enough, a few hours later when your lunch break rolled around, you found yourself being pulled along by Taehyun once again.

“What happened this time? These dreams are making you worse.” Taehyun frowned, eyebrows pinching together almost imperceptibly. You could see it. Just as he could see you, you could see him in turn. His concern was palpable, with the way his touch lingered on your shoulder before you shrugged it off. If it bothered Taehyun that you did this, he didn't show it.

“Look,” He leveled with you, sharp eyes meeting your own. You desperately wanted to run, something screamed in the back of your mind that this was too close. That everything was too close to you.. to the ugly truth you tried to shove down with all your might.

You were in love with a dream. Devastatingly, sickeningly, irrefutably in love.

“Something is seriously going on with you. Have you called any of those therapists I've sent? You've been looking like a shell of yourself for months now, but today you look like death fucking warmed.” His words always had a way of slicing right through you. ‘No use in sheltering you from the truth,’ as Taehyun would say. You pressed your lips into a thin line, tearing your gaze away from his.

“Gee, thanks. You really know how to make a person feel pretty, don't you?” You were deflecting. You knew it, Taehyun knew it. He groaned, grabbing your chin and tilting it so he could look into your eyes again. He wouldn't let you hide, you knew that. Still, you recoiled back out of his grip like it scalded you, but remained meeting his eyes as he wanted.

“I mean it. Tell me what's going on, now. You can't keep fantasizing about some made-up life with a made-up man-” But you cut him off hastily, so desperate to defend what little pride you had left that you couldn't even process what you were saying.

“Kai is just a dream, youre right. but I’m trying to get be-” You slapped a hand over your mouth, but the damage was done. The words had already been spoken.

Taehyun blanched, eyes widening a fraction in shock. His hands clenched into fists where they lay at his sides.

“...You named him?” Taehyun speaks carefully, words measured and precise, but you didn't miss the edge that skirted around the syllables. He was seething, and you knew it. You gnawed on your lip until metal filled your mouth, looking pointedly away from him. The floor was suddenly much more interesting than Taehyun's eerily silent rage.

Something dangerous swirled in his eyes, and the heat that rose to your face was dizzying. You felt so ashamed, rage rising in you over the sheer embarrassment you just threw yourself into.

“Just forget it, okay? I didn't mean it, it’s nothing-” But Taehyun was having none of it. His shocked expression was now schooled into something darker. Something angrier.

“Forget it? You expect me to forget that you've been spending every conscious and unconscious moment dreaming about someone who doesn't exist? It's nothing!?” He was seeing red. You thought, distantly, that this was the most you had gotten out of him before. You were stunned into your spot, cemented to the floor under Taehyun's anger.

“I'm sorry, I-” Again, you were being cut off by Taehyun retreating, irritation rolling off of him in waves as he pushed past you again, shoulder bumping harshly against your own.

“Get it together. Maybe someday you'll wake up and see what you've been missing out on, but I can't promise I'll still fuckin’ be here when you do.”

It was a few months later, and you were barely any better than you were in the wake of your argument with Taehyun. If you could even call it that. Your connection had almost entirely been severed, only feeling the weight of his stare whenever he thought you weren't paying attention. It made you shiver.

You tried so hard to listen to his warnings, that this would only make you more sick. You needed to wake up from your delusions and face reality. You were lonely, yes, but you could fix that if you took control of your own mind again. If you controlled your own life again. Taehyun was right, he was always right. This wasn't healthy in the slightest.

Now you were back to working regularly without fucking up. You were efficient as they were before this hell began, albeit a bit more hollow than normal. Your mind still tortured you, but you were strong enough to begin to push it away. These fantasies, these delusions were only a poison. You had to stop drinking it by the mouthful if you ever expected to be happy.

The bell above the front door of the cafe rang, signaling you had more work to do. You pulled yourself together, hearing the customer approach the counter. You didn't look up, opening up the order screen on the register before you.

“Hello, what can I get for you today?” You asked, a practiced and saccharine sweetness staining your voice.

“Ah.. could I just get a few egg tarts?” You blinked. That voice.. it itched something in the back of your mind, but you pushed it away. He was probably a regular customer. Nothing to get excited about.

“Sure thing,” You selected the requested items, head moving up to look at the customer with a pleasant customer-service brand smile on your lips. “What's the name for the order?” You hadn't quite looked at his face yet, just a quick glance to not seem rude. You weren't the best with eye-contact, anyway.

“Oh- Kai. Huening Kai.”

The pen fell from your hand, eyes snapping up to finally, finally meet the eyes of this stranger and any words you could have had in your mind died on your tongue. It was him. It was really him. Holy fuck.

“Everything okay?” He was so sweet. So perfect. He was everything you dreamed and then some. You swallowed thickly, nodding like a fucking idiot as you punched in his total in the machine.

“Yeah- yeah, your total is $10.25” You managed to squeak out, voice stunted and shaken. You felt like a flame in a hurricane, on the blink of blinking out of existence. You moved in a daze, grabbing his items and handing them to him after he paid. Your hands were shaking, and you swore your knees almost gave out when his fingers ghosted over your own, flashing you a warm smile that nearly ended you then and there.

You were blissfully unaware of the weight of Taehyun's gaze this time, and the anger behind it.

He knew. He always knew.

[vessels-two-front-teeth]

Where the Delicate Stops- IV x Fem!reader/MC

An “In The Low Light” one shot. For now.

Notes: alright folx, I want you to read this very, VERY carefully. This is *technically* part of In The Low Light, but it’s much farther along in the plot than where we are with officially released chapters. There is no real plot in this, nor any character names (aside from IV), so it can be viewed as a stand alone piece for now. I wanted y’all to have something to gnaw on while I work on chapter 3. Once we reach the proper point in the plot I will re-label this as a half chapter so it fits into the right spot. Quality control by the lovely @365granitegirlx thank you as always, Wolfie.

That being said, this is SMUT. MDNI.

Tags etc: IV x fem!reader/MC, established relationship, first time, hand kink, fingering, nipple play, hand on throat but no squeezing, mirror stuff??, fem nicknames (love, baby, princess, good girl), heavy language (but c’mon it’s smut what do you expect), diabetes inducing fluff, it’ll make you cry out your eyes and down your thighs.

Word count: 2951

ITLL masterlist

I listened to Talk by Hozier while writing this. Listen to it here for ✨vibes✨

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I was sitting on my kitchen counter with IV standing between my knees, his hands on my hips, and his lips on my neck leaving soft whispers of kisses. My hands had found their way into his hair, and tugged gently at the nape of his neck. His breath shudders against my skin, and I feel his teeth graze me.

“IV…” my voice is quiet, just above a whisper. He hums against my neck as he leaves an open mouthed kiss on the corner of my jaw. “I think I’m ready. For you.”

He freezes, and his fingers flex against my lower back. He pulls back just enough to look into my eyes, and I see his pupils are blown wide, his eyelids half open. He brings a hand up to cup the side of my face. “What exactly are you saying, love?” His voice is husky, gravelly. He leans closer, brushing his lips against mine, and my breath catches in my throat. I tighten my fingers in his hair, and pull him closer, deepening the kiss. He groans softly as his tongue moves against mine, and we stay like this for a few minutes; lost in one another. I catch his lower lip in my teeth as I pull back to speak.

“I’m saying I want you to make sweet, sweet love to me.” I drag my hands down his chest, across the hard planes of his body, and slip my index fingers into the waistband of his pants. “I’m saying I want you to ravage me.” I pull him closer to me and he captures my mouth with his again.

The kiss is hungry, all tongue and teeth, and his hands squeeze around my hips. I slip my hand up under the hem of his shirt and push the fabric up slightly. He steps away to pull it over his head, and I catch myself getting lost in his beauty. Tattooed skin over taught muscle, a few scars here and there, and a faint happy trail disappearing under his waistband. He catches my gaze, and smirks at me. “You like what you see, love?”

I jump off the counter, and step closer to him, scraping my nails against his skin lightly as my hands move up his chest to rest on his shoulders. His hands slide under the hem of his hoodie I’m wearing and splay across the small of my back. I place a kiss to the center of his chest, and meet his eyes. “Baby, I think you’re divine.” His expression is overtaken with my favourite smile, the one that creates those little crinkles at the edges of his eyes.

He bends down and scoops me up by the back of my thighs, and I wrap my legs around his waist. I place a small kiss on his lips, both of us smiling into it. He turns and walks to my bed, in its place in my living room, and sits on the edge with me straddling him. His mouth finds its way to my ear and the words come out soft as he breathes out. “Do you trust me, love?” He begins trailing searing open mouthed kisses down my neck, pausing to leave small bites in my skin.

I struggle to find my words, my mind made blank by the sensation of his mouth on me. The words fall out of me on a blissful sigh. “Yes…I trust you.” At this he slowly pushes up the fabric of his hoodie, his fingertips against my skin leaving goosebumps in their wake. He pulls it off over my head, and tosses it on the floor. I shiver from the slight chill in the air, my thin camisole and pajama shorts doing little to keep me warm. His hands are back on my body, and they seem to be everywhere at once. I pull his mouth back to mine, and all of my senses are consumed by him. His taste, his touch, his smell, the way he groans in the back of his throat as my nails scratch at his scalp. How his pupils have taken over his eyes when I draw back from him. “You’re so beautiful.” I can’t stop the words from rolling off my tongue. It’s the truth.

He releases a breathy laugh, and rests his forehead against mine. “You’re killing me here, love.” He brings a hand up to cup the side of my face, pushes his fingers into my hair, and pulls my mouth back down onto his. I’m left breathless as his tongue rolls against mine, exploring every crevice of my mouth. He pushes his fingers under the hem of my camisole and pulls back slightly. “Can I take this off?” I pull him back to me as I breathe out an emphatic yes. He quickly removes the garment, tossing it who knows where, and his mouth is on my chest. One of his arms wraps around my waist while the other makes its way around to cup my breast. He leaves desperate kisses on my skin, and suddenly his lips are wrapped around my nipple, his tongue swirling tantalizing circles around the sensitive bud. My head falls back as I gasp at the onslaught of sensation, my fingers pull harshly at his hair, prompting him to use his teeth. A thrill floods through my body, straight down into my core. He releases my skin with a gentle pop, and I tip my head forwards so our eyes meet. “Can you stand up for me, love?” I grant him this, simply standing between his parted knees, my hands still resting on his shoulders. His hands glide down to rest on my hips, his fingers dipping below the waistband of my shorts. His eyes bore into mine, and he leaves a single kiss against my lower stomach. “Can I?” He softly snaps the elastic my shorts against my skin to emphasize his question.

I laugh softly, and nod. “Yes, please do.” My hands always seem to find their way into his hair. He pulls my shorts and panties down my legs, and I step out of them, his eyes never leaving mine. They seem to be searching for some sign of hesitation or second thoughts. I hold his face and, bending down to kiss him briefly, I look deeply into his eyes. “I want this, you don’t have to worry about me.”

He places a small kiss on my palm, and studies me for a moment. “If at any point you want me to stop, just say the word, and I’ll stop. You are fully in control of this.” He holds me by my hips, his touch anchoring me to this moment.

I stand back up, and nod. “I know.” He leans forward and places a few small kisses against my stomach, but stops and stands up.

He grabs my chin between his fingers and forces me to make eye contact. “Do you feel safe with me, love?”

“Yes, I feel safe with you.” My stomach erupts with butterflies. The anticipation is killing me. I feel a fire ignite inside me.

“Sit on the bed, right in the center, a little away from the head board. Face towards the mirror. Wait for me,” there’s a slight stern tone to his voice and he raises his eyebrows at me. “Got that?”

“Yes.” My voice is barely more than a breath. He bends down and kisses me fiercely for just a moment, and pulls away, releasing my chin. I follow his instructions, and wait for him. I watch as he readjusts my standing mirror so that it’s turned directly towards the bed. When he steps away I can see myself perfectly.

He turns to face me and reaches down to his belt, undoing it and his pants. He pushes them down, stepping out of them, leaving him clad only in black boxer briefs. He climbs on the bed and settles behind me, his legs on either side of mine. His hands slide in between my thighs, and gently push out. “Open for me, baby.” I open my legs and he loops his around mine, pinning them down to the bed. He takes both of my hands and places them under each of his thighs and presses his legs down on them. “Keep these here, squeeze as hard as you need to. Lean back against me….just like that. Relax baby, let me do all the work.” The feel of his body against mine is enough to feed the fire inside me. When his arms wrap around my body and his hands find their way to my chest, I can’t hold back the small moan that escapes my mouth. I feel my cheeks flush, and I feel embarrassed for a moment until he says “You make such pretty sounds, love. Don’t hold back. I wanna hear how good I make you feel.” His fingers pinch and twist at my nipples and each one sends a bolt of lightning through my body. One hand trails down and begins massaging over my thighs, and the fire within me grows evermore. His hands on me are like a drug. I can never get enough of them. I need them like I need his mouth.

I crane my neck to the side searching for him, and he grants me what I seek. Our mouths move ferociously against one another, our tongues moving in tandem. He swallows my moans, and I breathe his. I can feel the hard ridge of his erection pushing into my back, how it twitches with each sound I make. His hand is still massaging the inside of my thigh, and his fingers brush against my most sensitive part. My breath shudders and I gasp against his lips. “I can’t take it anymore. Touch me, please, IV. Please, please, please. Touch me.”

He groans and brings his hand to his mouth, sucking in his middle and ring fingers. He pulls them from his lips, a small string of saliva stretching between his digits and his mouth. “I’ll go slow, baby. I don’t want to hurt you.” His fingers ghost over my clit, and the faint sensation drives me wild. My body bucks up into his hand desperately searching for more, and a loud moan pulls from my throat. He traces delicate circles over the sensitive bud before sliding his fingers down and gently pushes just the tips in. I can only enjoy the feeling for a second before he pulls them back out, returning to swirling those soft circles. Within minutes, I am a writhing whining mess. He repeats this same pattern, without end: feather light pressure and barely pushing in.

My body has a mind of its own, rolling up against his hand, constantly chasing his touch. I need more. Now. “Ffffffffuuuuuck…babyyyyy,” his fingers push in again and my thoughts falter. My hands squeeze against the muscle of his thighs, my nails digging in slightly. He releases a small hiss followed by a moan against my hair. The fire inside me is now a raging inferno.

His voice is strained, and the words come out as a plea. “What do you need, love? Tell me. Use your pretty words.”

“More. I need more.” The desperation in my voice would be humiliating at any other time.

“More of that what, baby?” There’s a teasing tone in his voice, and it drives me crazy.

I groan in frustration, “Fuck! More pressure. Deeper, please!”

“That’s it, good girl.” As a reward his fingers press down on me harder, and it rips a keening moan from my throat. When he pushes his fingers in up to the base and curls them against me, I clench hard around them. A tension begins to build in my lower belly, and my breaths leave me in ragged moans. After a few more minutes of this torturous pattern, I can no longer think. I feel his breath on my ear as he speaks. “Are you close, love?” My response is a desperately gasped yes! “Cum for me, baby. I wanna feel you squeeze around me, feel how wet you get. You’re so beautiful, princess. Show me how good I make you feel.”

With this, the tension inside me snaps, and when his fingers push in again, my vision goes white behind my eyelids and I convulse with each thrust of his fingers. He keeps them pushed in, to the knuckle, repeatedly curling them against that tender spot inside, each brush of his fingers sending a shock of electricity down my legs. He continues his ministrations through my orgasm, my body rocking and bucking against his hand all the while. When he begins to pull his hand away, I quickly pull my hand out from under his leg and place it over his. “No, don’t stop. Please don’t fucking stop.” I slide his hand back down to my quivering pussy, and guide his fingers back inside.

The groan that leaves him is pure sin. “Oh my fucking god, baby, you’re so sexy.” As he pulls his fingers back out and begins rubbing firm and fast circles on my clit again, I place my hand back under his leg. When he goes to push back in, he adds a third finger, the stretch causing my body to arch against his arm still giving attention to my chest. A loud animalistic moan tears from my throat, my eyes falling shut, and I feel his hand move from my chest to my throat. He doesn’t squeeze, but he applies a gentle yet firm pressure. “Look at yourself, baby. Do you see how fucking incredible you are? Do you see yourself how I see you, now? Look.” I open my eyes and look at our reflection in the mirror, my mind reeling at what I see. His arms wrapped around me, one hand on my throat, the other on my pussy. The gone expression on his face as he watches us in the mirror, my face matching his as my body jerks with pleasure. The way his fingers disappear inside me. This image will be burned into my mind for the rest of my life. His words send shivers down my spine as he breathes them against my ear. “You think that I’m divine, darling, you’re a fucking goddess.” With this, he gives a particularly firm thrust of his hand, pressing into my g-spot, and I feel my second orgasm begin to build. The sensation of his hand slowly dragging across my slick skin, and his fingers stretching me open soon becomes all I can think about and feel. My breath leaves me in rapid motion, and tension builds in my body, my legs shaking with each swirl of his fingers against my clit. I let my head fall back against his shoulder, a long drawn out moan pulling from my throat. Once again his words come as a hot breath on my ear. “Do you feel loved by me, darling?”

“Yes, I feel loved by you, IV!” I gasp the words as my climax begins to hit. “FUCK!! I’m gonna cum! Gonna cum!” My nails dig harshly into his thighs, and my mouth hangs open as a high keening whimper releases from my lips.

“Cum for me, princess. Let me feel you fall apart in my hands.” My wish is his command, and my orgasm crashes through me like a tsunami. I ride the waves for what feels like eternity, the drag of his skin against my most delicate parts a tantalizing delicious treat. As the tides of my climax begin to recede, the strokes of his hand slow too. I bring my hand back to rest on top of his when it comes to a stop. He releases my legs from his, and I bring my other arm out to rest on his other arm, as it wraps tighter around my torso. I close my legs around both of our hands, enjoying the warmth spreading through my body. He presses countless kisses against my neck and shoulder, anywhere he can reach, until I’m a giggling mess. “You’re so fucking beautiful, baby. I love you so much. Thank you for trusting me enough for that.”

I turn to face him and pull my hand out from between my thighs to hold his face as I pull him closer to mine. We share a tender, drawn out kiss, just enjoying the feel of each other. I pull away breathless, and rest my forehead against his cheek. My hand once again has found its way into his hair. “I love you more. And now I want to return the favour.” His erection is still pressing into my back, and by now it must be feeling painfully hard.

He presses a kiss to my temple and hums against my skin. “As much as I would like that, I think we’ve gone far enough for tonight, love. I’ll be alright. I don’t want to push you too hard. Not yet, anyway.” A teasing tone colours his voice with the last sentence, and we both fall into a fit of soft laughter. He pulls his hand out from between my legs, and scoots off the bed, turning to hold his other hand out to me. I take it, and we both go into my small bathroom to clean up.

When we come back out, we turn down the lights and crawl under the blankets. He pulls me to him, and peppers my face with kisses before tucking me into his chest. I nuzzle against his skin, and wrap my arms around his waist. We whisper our “I love yous” into the dark, and drift off to sleep for the night.

[dinosaurcharcuterie]

It still kind of blows my mind that it's 29 years ago since my grandfather, two aunts, my mom, my uncle, the pharmacist and her treating doctor had to harass state health insurance to testify that my great-aunt would benefit from an at-home blood sugar meter, even if she didn't have type 1, as opposed to going to the doctor 3-5 times a day to have it measured. The thing was the size and weight of a brick, took several drops of blood to read, and the test strips were the size of my grade schooler pinky. It was accurate...ish. Text was gray on Nintendo screen green, and about the size of Arial 10. Three people were schooled on how to use it, in case it was necessary while she was unconscious. She had to pay for it herself as a pensioner who had never worked, and the entire family chipped in to make it happen, before they got on more of a first name basis with the ambulance drivers than they already were, what with there being just-in-case pastries in the house daily to "make sure those boys ate lunch".

Today I have my own blood sugar meter that I bought for less than 10 bucks "just in case". I've lost test strips down the back of the sofs and never had to be horrified about how much money I'd just wasted. My doctor just read out my hb1c value from a pinprick of blood in less than 2 minutes. The second I need constant monitoring, I'll get CGM sensors that work with my phone, paid out by insurance.

Most millennials are older than the concept of all kinds of diabetes being able to be monitored reliably, easily and affordably at home. It feels kinda unreal.

[seokka0o]

Koga Yudai ♡ Reader

──┈ׄ─𐨿─┈ࠜ╼Contain: Smut, humping, cockwarming, breeding, pet names, sub! Reader and dom!Kei, unprotected sex (please use protection)

Author: I was on my way to work and this popped into my mind, I'm a slut for this man I swear and I don't regret it, hope enjoy and please leave a feedback ♡

──┈ׄ─𐨿─┈ࠜ╼ this is +18 content and purely fictional, not intended to offend anyone. read with descriptions. Minors do not interact.

1k

The sounds you made were specific, low, and desperate. The feeling was like suffocating, the heat came from your abdomen and rose until it made you dizzy, which made you reconsider all your decisions since then. it was terrible, you consider yourself a good tease, but then your boyfriend who has known you for so long knows more about your limits than you do. Who is smiling, every now and then looking at your face as a kind of entertainment. His cock is growing and growing inside you, throbbing showing how satisfying it seemed to him just to be there watching you try so hard not to move for the sake of your own self-control, because if it were up to him you could have just fucked at the first sign that it would lead nowhere.

Kei smiles and then you are close to falling apart, trapped in his embrace now, he caresses you, inside your shirt, on your warm and sensitive back, he goes down to your ass and squeezes to feel the flesh, taking advantage of the opportunity to move his cock so uniquely to slide a little deeper inside you. You moan so painfully that it seems to really hurt, but you are just trying to contain everything that is inside since the moment you put yourself in this desperate situation, all you could do was regret, Kei with his simple touches did all the work of making you forget the reason why you started this game. You just wanted to bet that they could stay like this without you trying to lose all your control. But you were failing so miserably.

“Come on baby, you can't take it anymore. Did you notice the pool that has already formed... it's just a fuck” he dictated close to your ear, with acidic affection, arms wrapping around your waist as he barely heard your answer before starting to move very slowly, you felt him so slowly tearing you apart, just like his words, Kei was rough in the most subtle way possible, making you moan so delicately and sink into the curve of his neck as if you needed it desperately, like a sulking animal. You lost yourself for a good few thrusts, and when Kei was already starting to pant when you leaned on his chest to sit up and stay still.

“No,” you said breathlessly, your hot, wet, pulsating insides giving away your lie so he could make fun of you in front of your boyfriend once again. He laughed in disbelief and laid his head on the pillow, a little nervous because his body had already entered a state of feeling pleasure corroding him. “We need to be stronger than this.”

“Just because you want to? My love, look at you, I can feel your pussy contracting around my cock… so desperate, you can’t mistreat yourself like that,” Kei commented subtly, with endless naturalness. He ran his fingers over your exposed thighs and up your inner thigh where he caressed you, you trembling under his touch, it was like falling into a sea of ​​endless temptation. “I could make you cum at least three times in the next five minutes and you’re denying me that.”

He complained beforehand, moving his hips so slowly that you hadn't even noticed too much to protest, letting the moans escape so slyly, letting yourself be carried away and moving your own as if you were escaping, but entering into his game like easy prey.

You moaned, slyly, as if you had been waiting for this for a long time, desperate for the sensation of the flesh, your fingers marking themselves on his white shirt, while his hands made more trips than necessary, ass, thighs, back, breasts that he squeezed so lovingly so he could play with the rigid and negligent nipples, in his ears you making the most beautiful sounds, with your body starting to ride lightly.

“Mhm…baby” you sighed and he grunted back.

“Yes, you do it so well, just keep going” he dictated in a sweet tone, feeling his skin burn, they weren’t aggressive moans, it was something so intrinsic that Kei could often only sigh and gasp as you kept that slow and tortuous, a slow and engaging fuck, the two of you dancing, moving your hips towards each other and then in moments your leg was losing strength, without any strength in your voice to express any words, or anything other than a continuous moan.

“So sweet..” he begged for you knowing what was coming, your fingers pushing, your head fell as the air began to run out. Kei let you take your time, watching you lose control, coming and going, letting your voice say what you were feeling, he felt like he could destroy you, but he should let you delight in his cock alone, looking for your own pleasure after denying it for maybe an hour. There was no way he could know. It was magnificent to see.

You lost the air in your lungs, treating your boyfriend like a toy for seconds to spill yourself over him, reaching the limit that took so long to conquer , you lost all your temper, you wanted more and he would give it to you without mercy and without thinking twice. 

“Give me everything, everything you have, baby” he encouraged, feeling his body lose a little in this condition too, his wide and firm fingers held you tightly, Kei was tense, in the middle of your orgasm his arrived and Kei's hips rose so quickly inside that you lingered in the sensation, whispered curses between the muffled sound of his hips hitting against you in a fuck that escalated quickly from something so subtle and sweet to an unprecedented aggressiveness.

Your lips made a synchronicity of sounds to each other, you syllable each other's name so desperately, you held yourself to keep yourself, falling on your boyfriend's body so he could have perfect precision, feeling overstimulated, tired, and he finished with you in an instant, filling all your walls with his pleasure, rolling his eyes so full of that breathtaking feeling, and in the end you were both destroyed and panting, feeling your body so tired from the effort to get there.

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Dragon Blood

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Dragonseed (f) reader

Chapter 5.5

Jace pulled away, his breath still heavy as he surveyed the red marks blooming on your neck. The sight stirred something possessive inside him, and his lips curled into a grin. By morning, they'd bruise, a physical reminder of his claim of you. He couldn't help the rush that came with it. Making his mark was just the beginning. He wanted more than just the bruises. He wanted to leave a deeper imprint on you, something that couldn’t be erased.

But then he hesitated, his grin faltering as he caught the look on your face. It should’ve been intoxicating—should have driven him further—but something about your expression gave him pause.

“Stop,” your voice was soft, almost fragile, but it cut through the haze between.

Everything froze. The smirk disappeared from Jace’s face, replaced by confusion. His heart was still hammering in his chest, the need still pulsing, but he met your gaze, searching those troubled, violet eyes.

“What is it?” His voice was low, though there was a hint of concern he wasn’t quite sure how to express.

You shook your head, breath still coming fast, as your desire clashed with your self worth. “I don’t want this. Not like this.” The words barely made it past your lips, as though you hated speaking them.

Jace blinked, stunned by the shift in the atmosphere. He stared at you as though trying to read your mind, to figure out what went wrong. His hands, still lingering on your skin, now felt out of place, unsure. “I would never hurt you,” he said.

You shook your head again. What were you doing? Every part of you was still aching for him.

This was Jace. The prince. The heir to the Iron Throne. He wasn't just any man. And you... you had fantasised about being this close with him more times than you could count. But your fantasies had been soft, warm, threaded with tenderness. In your dreams, it had been about love. Not this strange combination of anger, jealousy, and raw need.

You swallowed hard, feeling the burn of your words before they left your mouth. “I want to be with you, Jace. I do.” Your voice wavered, your gaze dropping from his intense stare to the cold stone floor beneath your boots. “But you think of me as a servant. A bastard. Someone beneath you.”

He said nothing. The cold, unforgiving stones of the training room took over the warmth of his embrace, the flicker of torchlight casting shadows over Jace’s face masked his reaction.

You rushed to fill it, the words spilling out of you. “As is your right. You’re a prince. But… when I imagined my first time, I wanted it to be with someone who respected me. Maybe not in stature, but in spirit. I hoped it would be with someone who saw me as an equal, not someone who only realises they want me when they feel jealous.” Your gaze flickered back up to him, eyes filled with both hurt and resolve. “Not like this. Not in a training room, of all places.”

Jace’s eyes darkened as he absorbed your words, his jaw clenched tight. For a long moment, he said nothing, only staring at you with an intensity that made your heart twist in your chest. “I understand,” he finally said, his voice quiet.

You exhaled, relieved, though a part of you mourned the lost connection. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance that’s been handed to me,” you murmured. “Claiming a dragon, training as a rider… I won’t jeopardise it. Tonight was tense for both of us. We need time to come down from this emotional high.” You hesitated, then forced yourself to meet his gaze again. “I’ll see you tomorrow, my prince. As mentor and student.”

He nodded, dismissing you. Possessiveness and jealousy clashing with his affection, he restrained himself from saying anything, but the tension remained.

You offered a quick bow and turned to the direction of your chamber.

For a long moment, Jace didn’t move. His eyes followed you as you walked away, torn between letting you go and pulling you back into his arms.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Tag list:

@legolastheleafyelf @alwaysdaydreamingoffiction @rav9n-16 @dracaryxzs @jacaeryvardaddy @alessiaparigim @zizouu23 @staarflowerr @deltamoon666 @burningwitchobject @alexa554

[ilys00ga]

𝙔𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙙, 𝙄'𝙢 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧

(PROLOGUE) → FIRST CHAPTER

: ̗̀➛ synopsis: you're in the wind, I'm in the water.. somebody's son, somebody's daughter..

OR: Sirens and humans were made to be at war with one another. To sear their deadly bond, not with love, not with wealth, not with rules and restrictions... but with flowing blood and torn flesh. That's what history says. That's what's bound to be.

: ̗̀➛ pair: yoongi x f reader/oc.

: ̗̀➛ tags: mute human!yoongi, half siren half human!reader, reader is obsessed (almost yandere-ish (we'll see as the story progresses)), forbidden love and relationships, middle ages/old times era theme, supernatural, slow burn, strangers to lovers (?), fluff, angst, bloody or dark themes. more tags could be added eventually.

: ̗̀➛ note: hi :) finally decided to post this! first off, I know first-person povs are somewhat "controversial" in the fanfic community, BUT please give this one a read, and I hope you will have a fun ride! second, I know this prologue is longer than it should be (?) but I had a certain idea in mind, so, who cares if it was long af, right? enjoy! I hope u like it.

★ MASTERLIST.

PART ONE:

It was in the middle of a bright, warm spring day that I found the moon reading on a boat.

That day, I took the risk and sneaked Aftreen—my well-trusted and loyal maid—up to my favorite spot.

The first whispers of the fresh air brushed against our skins, and I smiled at the lovely memories it brought along with it.

And oh, how I missed those precious, precious old days.

We hid behind a large, isolated sea stack perched somewhere close to the coast line, but still far enough from the danger that a small distance could bring to the two of us.

“This is as far as we can go. Hurry up, Afreen.” I warned and watched as Afreen was comfortable in climbing the huge rock, eager to get a better view of the island awaiting beyond it.

“Woah, Your highness…” She gasped, a smile stretching her mouth. “Is that it, you highness? your village?”

I hummed in response, my mind elsewhere. She was marveling at the sight of the golden sand and the life of the village sitting at the edge of the island, while my eyes were stuck on the sight of him.

He with his arms crossed to his chest and his eyes fixed on what seemed to be a book he had on his lap, floating on a boat behind the huge rock. His hair dark and grown, its tips brushing against his broad shoulders as it danced with the gentle wind.

Calm, graceful, pale. I blinked. He glowed under the basking sunlight. So lost in his book that he didn't pay attention to anything else around himself—much less being in the presence of a siren princess and her siren maid propped on a huge rock not so far away from where he sat.

I always loved watching the moon, and I always envied the lucky stars to be in the presence of such a creation crowning the night sky. I wasn’t aware that the heavens were kind enough to put one wandering the earth for me to find.

“Afreen, get down.” I ordered, my voice hushed and stern.

Her lower lip jutted out in a slight pout, but she wordlessly obeyed and jumped off of her spot at the top of the stack and into the water daintily.

The dive made an audible splash echo through the air around us. I swiftly hid myself behind the rock right as the human's head jerked up, a soft gasp slipped me unconsciously.

Afreen didn't emerge again. I took the chance to peek over the stack and steal another glimpse of the stranger.

He wasn't reading anymore. He moved to handle the sail of his boat instead. The thought of him leaving spread a sour feeling in my chest.

The siren inside of me growled, urging me to swim to that boat myself, but I fought against it. I knew better than that. I wasn't supposed to be out there in the first place.

Yet, I could feel it. And I couldn't blame her on it. He looked so inviting to her. She was eager to see how his skin would look underwater, if I were to yank and take him deep, deep into the ocean with me. How he would feel against my skin if I were to trace his features with my thumb and caress his hair with my palms. How his face would twist if I were to card my fingers into his dark locks and pull them hard, or if I were I were to hold on his jaw in a tight grip and watch him writhe before me, searching to reach the surface and breathe some air into his weak, human lungs before his soul is put to rest between my arms. How my piercing fangs would feel if I were to—

I felt a persistent tug at my tail. Then, it was Afreen who popped up from underneath the water beside me.

“Your highness, what's taking you so long?” She asked.

I quickly brushed her curiosity off with a shake of my head, then led her deep into the saltwater again.

Every time I met the other moon after that, I'd talk to her about him. About how he looked more entrancing than any human I have ever laid my eyes on. About how he was more delicate and beautiful than she could ever, ever be.

About how I wish I could see him again, even for one, only and last time..

PART TWO:

A dark night sky, a tilted crescent and a pitch black ocean. Darkness cradled the four boats as they glided their way across the ocean, but their lanterns guided them towards their destination.

On each boat were three ruthless and tired sailors. Their journey almost reached its end as they approached Dogon Island.

A small boy that looked to be in his twelfth or thirteenth summer accompanied his father—after much begging pouts and determined promises—on this particular one.

While the adults were lounging on their vessels, the kid was leaning over the gunwale, watching his own reflection in the water with an intense gaze. His eyes soon perched up when he noticed a faint ripple in the image. He turned his head to glance at his father, only to find him sipping on rum, completely unaware. He darted his eyes towards the other two sailors still lounging on the other side of the boat, just as unaware as the previous one, then back to his own reflection again.

Some moments passed like that. The waves calm and steady, the wind gentle and crisp. Until all four boats started rocking from side to side in gentle motions. As if the ocean was soothing them onto the unpreventable.

The father put his rum down, a faint smile adorning his face for a brief moment, before it melted into a neutral frown as he stood up tall.

Everyone was up on their feet. Everyone looked around, alert. All except for the kid, who's hands were still holding onto the gunwale before him.

The rocking halted. A pair of hands gripped the wood right in front of the young boy. Then, it was a dark pair of eyes that locked with his youthful ones.

A soft gasp slipped his mouth at the angelic creature that came face to face with him, her wet skin bathed withed in the lantern lights.

He waited for her to move, like his father had told him she would, but she didn't. She just ogled back at him, her eyes carrying a baggage his young brain was unable to recognize.

More sirens rose and clung around the four boats. Each more breathtaking than the ones before.

Their lips parted as they hummed ? their songs to the men above the water, beckoning them closer and closer, right into their embraces.

The father held his son's shoulders and led him to the center of the vessel, his eyes not once leaving the siren at their boat. Then, he slowly approached her, bringing one knee down in front of her in complete devotion.

Without hesitation, her arms stretched out to cup the man's face in her hands. Closer and closer, she leaned her upper body forward, their noses almost nuzzled together. A wicked, yet faint smile appeared on her face when she felt the sailor's arms wrapping around her in response, pulling her towards the male.

Her deadly song was cut off with a loud, piercing shriek that erupted from her throat instead. The sailor pushed his dagger deeper and deeper into her writhing back.

Several shrieks and shouts erupted all over the area within an instant. The boats quivered violently. The small boy screamed and stumbled to the bottom of the vessel, trying desperately to hold onto something and not fall right into the freezing, salty water.

Hungry humans stabbed sharp tools into inhuman flesh. Angry sirens fought back in desperation after their feast attempt had come to be a dooming failure. And as history said and told, hundreds and millions of times all across the stars, siren blood had, once again, covered the wood and flowed into the ocean.

Victorious grins split the sailors’ faces as they pulled the small pieces of beeswax out of their ears. The father raised his rum flask in the air, keeping a firm grip on his son's shoulder as he stood next to him and bellowed to the open ocean: “To the kingdom!”

The other men seared the victory in loud and proud roars, with blood dripping from their lethal knives as they rose them to the air, and lifeless sirens gathered on each of the four boats.

[blindvogel]

A companion piece for my previous Mourn Watch Rook background exploration, this time from Emmrich's perspective. I can't wait to learn more about him!

~~~

His first memory of her is also of his first day in the Mourn Watch. He’s nervous and tries very hard not to let it show, surrounded by a hallowed institution and impressive people he is only too fortunate to call his peers. And then suddenly there is a little girl barreling down the hallway, black hair flying behind her in an intricate braid he’s usually only seen on another Watcher. She slides to a stop in front of him, such a serious look in her rain cloud-grey eyes. He bends down to greet her. “Kamari Ingellvar, pleased to meet you.” A pause. “You’re tall.” He is no longer nervous.

He is exhausted and certainly not feeling his best. Definitely not looking the part either after a tussle and a fall down in the catacombs, and not looking forward to trudging like this past any of his colleagues. Then he notices her walking towards him, is surprised for just a moment at how much she has grown, how he somehow had missed that she gained a few inches.  Absently he tries to brush the grime off his coat, and luckily just stops himself from dragging his hand through his hair. The girl with the serious eyes doesn’t seem to mind. “Hello Mr. Volkarin. Was your expedition a success?” she says as if his harried appearance was the most unremarkable thing in the world.

He is far less nervous nowadays and he finds he truly loves the time in the lecture hall, loves teaching. Most of the younger Watchers attending his lectures even listen. At least she always does. No matter when he finds himself turning away from his presentation and to the attendees, he finds her face turned towards him, focused with her full attention. He’s a little proud of that.

He is searching for a specific book on the revered dead in the library, and instead finds her - and the book. She appears to be reading but he knows her by now, knows that the look on her face is one of distant absence, lost in thought. She has changed recently, or perhaps he is simply late to notice again.  He startles her, and yet in a heartbeat is holding a pile of books in his hands, including the one he was looking for. She still calls him Professor, no matter how often he asks her to use his name. The formality feels awkward, especially coming from her.  “Just one more time,” she says with a rare smile. He cherishes it because it is the last he sees of her for a long time.

Emmrich opens his eyes to her fingers in his hair, her black hair unbound and cascading over her shoulder, the rain cloud-grey eyes looking down at him with a softness that still surprises him. Even now. He doesn’t think he could ever get used to it.  She smiles at his endearment, a blush dusting her cheeks and creeping all the way up into the points of her ears. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to that either. 

“Morning, love,” she says and leans down to kiss him. Or that.

[graciereadshannigram]

hey fam, my spreadsheet is FINALLY up to date so i am FINALLY getting back to the monthly rec lists! here's the cream of the crop from June :)

as a reminder: the ingredients for a five star rating typically (but not always!!) include some combination of a.) believable characterizations of both Hannibal and Will, b.) compelling plot and/or character arcs, and c.) high quality smut.

that being said, my judgment of the aforementioned ingredients is powered almost exclusively by vibes and as such, is incredibly subjective.

you can find past recs below:

February March April May

and if you have any recs of your own for me, PLEASE SHARE.

without further ado, let's go!

Bring Your Hunger by HigherMagic

Word Count: 22748 Summary: Having two Alphas is practically unheard of. Having three is damn near impossible. Having three like Hannibal, Duncan, and Nigel? All of them not only content to share, but genuinely enjoying each other's company? Well, Will doesn't believe in fate so much as luck, and he's more than willing to admit he's the luckiest Omega in the world.

Show, Don't Tell by StratsWrites, whiskeyandspite

Word Count: 3680 Summary: “The bedroom,” Hannibal murmured. “Do you have the patience to get there?” In answer, Hannibal gripped the backs of Will’s thighs and hoisted him up, settling him onto the kitchen island. After the fall... Will makes Hannibal wait. Just... to see what he would do.

I will read anything where Will purposefully drives Hannibal out of his mind.

to lie in wait for blood by its_the_ratdawg

Word Count: 1907 Summary: They had been sharing a bed since their first night on the run, ever since Will had climbed into bed next to Hannibal and curled around his broken body. In nearly a year that had passed since then, they’d always slept together unless they were enduring the climax of a particularly nasty fight. It had only happened three times. Tonight had nearly been the fourth. Hannibal laid there feeling as awake as he had ever been. Even with a fire built in the wood stove, the bed seemed cold with Will tucked stubbornly against the far side of the mattress, stoic as the cross on the wall above the bed. The pale moonlight streaming in through the window only made the illusion more severe. Just as Hannibal was considering drugging himself to sleep, Will shifted and his breath hitched. Hannibal waited for the rhythm of his breath to resume the slow, sleeping pace he was used to. He nearly jumped when instead he felt Will reach for him, his hand finding Hannibal’s waist. Wordlessly Will pulled Hannibal against him the way a bear might drag its prey to it with a single paw.

Somnophilia is really my thing and I loved this.

Batter My Heart by amarriageoftrueminds

Word Count: 2351 Summary: Hannibal/Will, Hannibal tricks Will into talking dirty. Will has trouble switching off. Hannibal doesn’t mind, and encourages Will to continue their conversations about serial killers while they’re having sex. About one serial killer in particular.

Fuck me, this was so hot.

Blaze by HotMolasses

Word Count: 3008 Summary: The thought slipped from his mind as a warm tingle spread across his skin. Will inhaled again, deeply, and the scent was so good, so very, very good. A soft moan even escaped his lips before he realized what he was scenting, though it wasn’t until he heard the feral, bestial growl in front of him that his brain finally made the full connection, and his eyes flew open in terror. Rut. Hannibal had indeed lost his control. Will’s eyes snapped up to Hannibal’s and he saw them dilating. Will’s throat grew dry and his heart leapt with fear. The Chesapeake Ripper was in rut, and it was because of him.

This author could write anything and I'd eat it up.

A Rising Tide by gleamingwholeanddeadly

Word Count: 3255 Summary: Sleepy, nostalgic talks in a bedroom the same colour as the ocean. Hannibal reflects on how close he feels to Will. Will wouldn't mind getting even closer. OR: Cuddles, unnecessarily florid banter, and graphic morning sex.

Oh I love this author so fucking much.

no amount of crying i can do for you by abbmyg

Word Count: 3763 Summary: Will is driving from Quantico to Hannibal's house in the middle of a blizzard. He never makes it home.

Umm, I'm tearing up thinking about this fic. It hurt. A lot.

i bet on losing dogs (you're my baby) by antiheroblake

Word Count: 2822 Summary: now, all hannibal has is winston

This made me sob. It hurt.

The most dangerous injuries don't leave scars by CulterVenatorius

Word Count: 909 Summary: When Hannibal hadn’t told Will about the encephalitis, thus preventing immediate treatment, he’d been more than aware of the possible outcomes. What he hadn’t been prepared for was that Will might change him and that one day, he might come to regret his decisions.

Ow ow ow ow OW.

Love Letters by Thiefbird

Word Count: 2039 Summary: After Will's funeral, Molly finds a box filled with relics from his past, and confronts the truth of her husband's history with Dr Lecter

WHUMP. This one hurt. In a good way.

Wrong by HotMolasses

Word Count: 4257 Summary: Will roughly rubbed his arm across his mouth again, trying to rub it off. Rub off the scent of Alana, after they’d kissed. After she’d kissed him. Or he’d kissed her? It was mutual. Until it wasn’t. Until Will breathed in her scent, so familiar, so Alpha, so…wrong. He’d pulled back forcibly, unable to hide the expression of revulsion on his face. “I…I need to go.” he said, sweeping his coat off the back of a chair on his way towards the door. “Lock up when you leave.” The weather was crap, and it probably wasn’t smart to drive in the snow while he was in pre-heat, but Will didn’t know what else to do. He needed to figure this out, he needed to talk to the only person who understood him. He needed to talk to Hannibal.

Another damn good reread.

Quid Pro Quo (Just friends helping friends) by QueerCannibal

Word Count: 4840 Summary: Will Graham isn't exactly going to therapy, and Hannibal Lecter isn't exactly his psychiatrist, which is probably why when their conversations turn to unorthodox topics neither of them are entirely guilty about it. Will Graham is stressed, and Hannibal Lecter--as Will's friend--wants nothing more than to help.

ACE HANNIBAL AND TRANS WILL. We love the representation.

a slick delicate sound by destroyedspectacularly

Word Count: 4345 Summary: Hannibal catches Will with one of his students (Matthew Brown) in his office, and takes the opportunity the stupid boy left behind, and finds out some fun new things about one Will Graham in the process. -- “Were you hoping he’d cross the line on his own? Do all the work for you?” “Well, he’s a good student. I know he’d love to do all the work,” Will shut his eyes in shame before he even finished his sentence, “That—that was inappropriate—should we go? I think we should go—”

I LOVE WHEN THEY FUCK IN WILL'S OFFICE ON HIS DESK.

The Porcelain Fawn by EarthsickWithoutYou

Word Count: 4976 Summary: Will falls asleep while visiting Hannibal one evening, and the good doctor carries his guest to bed, unable to resist watching him sleep. But when Will starts having one of his lusty nightmares, Hannibal can't hold his passionate obsession back any longer...

Oh noooo, not Will have a nightmare that turns into a sex dream that turns into actual sex!

Whiskey for One by CarnivalMirai

Word Count: 5364 Summary: Will is bribed by Beverly into driving her to a college party. When he loses his way to the bathroom, he bumps into the host’s father. And oh, is he beautiful. Or: Will fucks his classmate’s father

BEST FRIEND BEV. This probably would have gotten five stars regardless, but the ending was really the cherry on top.

Home and Dry by mokuyoubi

Word Count: 4329 Summary: Um, so, people on tumblr wanted Hannigram phone sex, dick pics, and Hannibal talking dirty, and this is what happened. Will's stuck in a car with Jack and Alana, and Hannibal starts sending him massively inappropriate texts. Tada!

Fuck me sideways, this was perfect.

You'll Go Blind by mokuyoubi

Word Count: 3650 Summary: Hannibal comes home to find Will masturbating in his bed, and it's time for them to finally follow through on the promise of all the texts they've been sending one another. I guess it could be read as a stand-alone, but it would help to read Home and Dry, first.

THE BUILD UP FROM PART ONE (above) MADE THIS SO GOOD.

howl by multifandom_fic_writer

Word Count: 7386 Summary: Prompt: When omegas go into heat, they go feral. Only an alpha strong enough to subdue them is worthy of being their mate. Will Graham has never found anyone to be worthy. After all, there is only one alpha Will wants to submit to – and he doesn’t even know their name.

This was just stupid hot. Okay. That's all.

Dead Men and Sinners by gleamingwholeanddeadly

Word Count: 4890 Summary: He looks at Hannibal and sees what he sees: himself glowing where he stands, blood-red and divine- a vengeful god of death. Protecting what's his. Hannibal steps toward him, and Will sees what's coming next, too. He drops the knife and catches Hannibal's face in his bloodied hands as he presses in to kiss him. The touch of his lips is searing hot against the blood cooling on Will’s skin, and so are his hands grasping at Will's waist. "Nothing," he whispers, kissing Will again intently before he continues, smearing blood between their mouths, "nothing is so moving as watching you act on your glorious wrath." A trespasser makes the mistake of attempting to blackmail Will and Hannibal, which is the last decision he makes. Hannibal shows Will just how pleased he is by his savage protectiveness. Pure filth written for Bottom Hannibal Day

God why is post murder sex so hot?

an ocean in my soul where the waters do not curve by gleamingwholeanddeadly

Word Count: 11540 Summary: n/a

This was fucking gorgeous and beautiful and sad and hopeful and. Wow.

bite down into me by gleamingandwholeanddeadly (something_safe), printersdeadly, printersdevils (tuesdaysgone)

Word Count: 21307 Summary: When Will is diagnosed with encephalitis and has to come cold turkey off his hormonal suppressants, Hannibal does everything within his power to ensure Will's comfort throughout the recovery process. But despite all Hannibal's careful planning, Will is never quite what he expects, and they quickly find themselves entangled in all manner of ways.

FUCK. This was so fucking good.

Keep Me Warm by nbcravenstag

Word Count: 5138 Summary: Will lets out a gasp, which is decidedly the worst thing he could do because Hannibal is on him in a second, pulling him close, tucking him against his chest, and rubbing his hands up and down Will’s body through the mountain of blankets. Will lets him do this, realizing now that Hannibal isn’t here in the present with him, but somewhere colder and less kind where there was blood in the snow and a devastating loss to come. _________________ Will arrives home after walking through a blizzard, fully expecting an angry husband, but instead finds a traumatized little boy, terrified of the cold and haunted by what he's already lost.

This hit all the right emotional notes for me. There's something so sweet about Hannibal being vulnerable with Will, wow. And Will knowing exactly how to react.

The Armor of Patroclus by nbcravenstag

Word Count: 8754 Summary: “You stay with me now, Will.” Hannibal urges, placing him back down so that he can continue compressions. He whispers please with each pump of his hands against Will’s chest and breathes life and love back into Will’s lungs. “You stay with me. You can do that, I know you can.” Hannibal pushes and pushes and begs and goes lightheaded with the lack of air, but he cannot stop because Will still won’t wake up. _________________ Hannibal finds himself on the beach and nearly loses Will along the way.

The angst here was perfect. Utterly perfect. Sometimes you just need some good good angst, you know?

Always In My Mind by swaggnation

Word Count: 19133 Summary: They had, in fact, not died together. And Will was ready to make it everyone’s (Hannibal’s) problem. Or, Three times Will tries to kill himself, and one time Hannibal answers for his sins.

OUCH OUCH OUCH but also this was so sweet and good and mmmmmmmf.

kalos kagathos by zipegs

Word Count: 8176 Summary: Will has always had issues with penetration, but with Hannibal, he discovers he wants to try. Thankfully, Hannibal’s cock is just the right size.

Oh! This had some really great trope inversion and that made it such a nice breath of fresh air.

Elysium by sourweather

Word Count: 2955 Summary: Hannibal finds Will dissociating in the shower. Again. Luckily, he has a creative technique for bringing him back to earth.

I need more showerhead orgasms!! Wish I had Hanni whispering in my ear like he was whispering in Will's. Fuck.

The Law of Meat by gleamingandwholeanddeadly (something_safe), printersdeadly, printersdevils (tuesdaysgone)

Word Count: 85396 Summary: Hannibal wakes alone in a hospital bed, barely able to move, and even less able to accept what Tattlecrime tells him - Will did not survive the fall.

THIS WAS BEAUTIFUL. Chapter 8 was absolutely gorgeous and so well done and so necessary for Will's character development wow.

[spaceage-bachelorette]

Lk My favorite thing about the final concert performances atomic vaudeville recording on Sound Cloud is the fucking description

[ruporas]

dragon meat, you, and me

[delta-piscium]

The first signs that Steve is getting a migraine are always ones he can’t identify until it’s too late. Things he dismisses as they occur but in hindsight knows what they meant.

The first one is a general feeling of something being wrong. But, he lives in Hawkins and a general feeling of something being wrong comes with the goddamn area code. So, a hard one to identify.

The second sign is that he’s unusually tired. But again, he lives in fucking Hawkins which is halfway to hell. And he’s been fighting devils since he was sixteen and had nightmares for just as long. So being unusually tired is actually pretty usual.

The third sign is irritability. He always feels too guilty about it to acknowledge it or look too closely though. He shoves it down and forgets what it might mean, doesn’t put it together with the other things.

The fourth sign is a sharp pain in his temples, like someone is trying to jam a pencil through them. This is when he should be alerted to what’s happening but he’ll most often write it off as a normal headache, after all, he’s rarely without one.

The fifth sign is his face going numb, combined with a dull heaviness like his cheeks suddenly have a weight in them. This is when he gets suspicious, thinking back to the other signs but he’ll still be in denial. Determined that if he just ignores it, it will go away.

The sixth sign is nausea. Something slimy that sticks in his throat and deep in his gut. This is when he resigns himself to his fate. It’s also when it’s too late because he’s been ignoring signs one through five and his migraine is about to go from something lurking in the corners to fully in his face, literally.

read the rest on ao3

[britneyshakespeare]

i'm very interested what ppl find to be the harder shakespeare plays and which they found to be easier. bc i was googling out of curiosity and i found a sparknotes article (link if you're curious) that ranked ten of the most commonly-read plays on difficulty and it put king lear kinda down low whereas it put julius caesar pretty high because of the politics/complicated conflicts. that kind of baffled me because julius caesar was the first tragedy i read outside of the classroom and i found it very approachable; it's one i often recommend to people trying to get into shakespeare because the plot is already familiar to most ppl and you can just enjoy the poetry and how shakespeare chooses to characterize these figures. on the other hand i read king lear a few years later in my shakespeare journey, and to be honest i still kind of have a hard time with lear. maybe i just don't connect with it on some level; i'm not sure. it's not a very tightly-organized play where the action is as centered as in the other tragedies like hamlet or macbeth. that's certainly a me thing and maybe that'll change with age. but i'm always a little surprised when i find someone's experience with the plays so much different than mine.

anyway if you're reading this feel free to reblog and tag or comment which shakespeare plays you found yourself falling into most naturally and which worlds you felt like you had to force yourself into. i'm interested in what ppl feel on this subject

[mikakuna]

did i just read the wrong issue or are tim fans just overdramatic.... because y'all please jason did not beat the shit out of tim in that comic. they were literally so on par while fighting LMFAO tim got in so many hits. bros also built??? why do you guys act like he's a tiny skinny toddler. on top of that, why do people make him seem like he's so skinny in every fan content i see of him

please add a link to the comic issue (maybe i read the wrong one?) if you think i'm wrong because what in the world