#i’m lying they’re not stupid. that’s the whole problem

[pacifistcowboy]

i’m nineteen years of age, i shouldn’t be googling shit like “does my crush like me” ffs this is humiliating

[mellonieee]

Mellonie does FOP + A New Wish Analysis: 1

This is what a week of AC and Antifairy brainrot has led to. After this I think I’m going to actually watch through the entire original series from the Oh Yeah! Shorts all the way to Season 10. (Hopefully I wont hate it too much.) And then rewatch ANW again once it hits streaming for the full FOP experience. And also so I could maybe do more of this analysis stuff, its fun.

Plans for later aside, this and any I do in the future, will only use episodes the character actually appears in, and not ones that they are merely mentioned in. Its also important to note that I likely wont use all the episodes the Character appears in.

That old black magic is the introduction to Anti-Cosmo, Anti-Wanda, and the Anti-Fairies as a whole. They’re described as “Regular Fairies, but anti.”

This episode establishes a few things:

1.Fairy magic cannot interfere with Anti-fairy magic.

2.On Friday the 13th, Antifairies escape from Fairyworld and cause bad luck. Antifairies are naturally drawn to anything that triggers bad luck to happen.

3.Antifairies can only be seen by humans with anti-fairy goggles.

4.Antifairies are opposites of their fairy counterpart in personality. AW is “incredibly stupid and eats with her feet.” AC is “not an idiot, in any matter once so ever.”

But what’s really interesting about this episode is what Jorgen and Anti-Cosmo have to say about the anti-fairies.

“No one is allowed in Anti-fairy world!”

“You see, we’ve been trapped behind that blasted barrier for centuries.”

Jorgen, you cant just imprison a whole group without expecting any problems. Its no wonder they wanted to escape so badly. Is causing bad luck something, well, bad, enough to warrant the imprisonment of an entire race? The anti-fairies arent good at all, obviously, but they are biologically made to thrive off of bad luck and negative energy. This really muddies the waters when it comes to seeing this as a solely ‘black and white’ situation. Most, but not all, of what AC does is for the antifairies. He’s evil and chaotic by nature, but he’s not evil evil, yknow.

There isnt really anything else noteworthy to say about that old black magic outside of this, but I did notice that AC knew Timmy’s name despite the fact he never met him before that point, somehow. I merely brush it off as a minor goof and just figure AC mustve made a lucky (haha) guess, but if you want a crazy theory to explain it, then maybe anti-fairies share vague recollections or memories with their fairy counterparts. I dont actually think thats true, but theres your food for thought.

The second appearance of the antifairies, The Gland Plan instantly ditches the entire ‘antifairy goggles’ thing, which is honestly for the better, even if I do think it made anti-fairies more unique. They are sadly never getting the invisibilty thing back.

This episode establishes that the faggigly gland is a special organ in a fairies body that allows the fairy to change shape, and that both fairies and anti-fairies have one. Fairy biology in general is really questionable, especially if you factor in the angel forms from A New Wish, but thats a topic for another day.

A few things to note:

1.This is the start of that “Hello, Clarice.” quote that AC and Foop/Irep use. Its a reference to Silence of the Lambs but its a misquote anyway because Lecter never even says hello to Clarice.

2.AC claims that he cant see a thing without his monocle. If he isnt lying about that and isnt using the monocle only as a symbol of prestige, then he has really terrible eyesight and is most likely completely blind in one eye.

3.Despite AC calling his wife a twit, he prefaces it by saying that he loves her very much. Most instances of AC talking to his wife does include him being typically annoyed when she messes with his plans, but outside of that he acts courteous towards her. (“Chin up, my beloved Anti-Wanda! Your savior, Anti-Cosmo, will have you all free presently!”)

4.The more questionable line is when Anti-Cosmo and Cosmo are having the operation and AC claims that if he does live, Cosmo should take his wife. Needless to say, AC words things very poorly at times, but this statement does have them acknowledging that an anti-fairy and a fairy could hypothetically be with one another’s counterpart.

“Cosmo, old friend, since we both carry a piece of each other inside of us, I see no reason for us to do battle. But I warn you, don't look for me.”

AC doesnt hold that much ill-will towards Cosmo like how I figure most would expect him to. He seems to be fed up and annoyed by his counterpart’s foolishness, but he does not despise him.

Right as the episode ends, Timmy brings up the idea that maybe more than the faggigly glands got transplanted. There isnt much evidence to support this outside of the brief voice change Anti-Cosmo and Cosmo had, but I’m starting to think Timmy was right considering how Anti-Cosmo acts in A New Wish.

I dont know if AC and AW retired like Wanda and Cosmo did, but I feel like AC’s very obvious decline in intelligence is a likely theory as to why Irep now seems to be in charge of the anti-fairies as shown in A New Wish.

I frankly can’t see the New Wish Version of AC leading the antifairies compared to how he acted in the old show. Not when he now thinks leaving a cage unattended is a “good idea.” That isnt something AC would say at all if we’re going off of his original characterization. It’s interesting to think of a reason in-universe as to how he went from “not an idiot, in any matter once so ever.” to someone who definitely is not as smart as he use to be.

[funtheysaid]

IWTV 2x01 Initial Thoughts (Stream Of Consciousness)

- That title card for Delainey felt very stage play to me (ahhh I adore the theatrical elements for this season)

- Ooh I love the idea that vamps can take on the emotions of whosever blood they’re drinking - it’s like the vampire equivalent of when werewolves can smell ppl’s emotions and fears through chemosignals (a la Teen Wolf iykyk)

- “Disregard” is the funniest shit ever 😂 Oldmaniel they could never make me hate you

- There’s a Real Rashid OMFG ??? Lol imagine he’s not actually Rashid and they pull one over on us again I’d fucking shit myself

- “Your love was in a box” OH MY GOD EAT HIM UP DANNY BOY

- OMG OMG LOUSTAT ITS HAPPENIGN ITS HAPPENING EVERYONE SHUT UP

- I MISS YOU TOO LESTAT

- “Quite fucked” 😏😏😏

- “mon amour” “mon cher” “love” IM GOING TO EXSANGUINATE MYSELF ISTG

- The singular finger on Louis’ chin 🥲 so delicate so soft so bad for my mental health

- I like Emilia

- “They are not used to seeing man with good looks” OKAY I know they’re just racists BUT she also wasn’t lying bc beautiful Louis is canon god bless you Jacob Anderson

- Lol Morgan a little fruity

- OOH memory is a monster! They be redoing scenes as Louis “fixes” his memories !!!! That’s gonna show up again for sure :))))

- “Stupid Halloween costume” Daniel Molloy the brat that you are (is okay, Armand likes brats) *cough cough*

- I’ve never seen someone *elegantly* close an iPad before. Armand, you have bewitched me.

- The fucking sexual tension between DM is stifling 🥵😶‍🌫️ Um if this is us “not getting Devil’s Minion” then I think imma be okay

- Claudia pushing the little racist boy 🤪🥹 we can’t help but to stan

- WTF AMC you can’t just jumpscare me with a Grace photograph :’)))

- “UP YOUR BUM” EXCUSE ME MORGAN I KNEW YOU WERE FRUITY BUT SIRRRR?

- so the makeup department really put their whole sfxussies into that decrepit ass abomination

- Louis: Alexa, play Mr. Steal Your Girl by Trey Songz

- Claudia calling Louis Daddy in S1: ☺️🍭👼 Claudia calling Louis Daddy in S2: 😖🤢😟

- I’m dubbing Louis “The Rat Prince”

- “If he can’t take you ballroom dancing and call you pretty” ICONIC.

- “the motherfucker” it’s on sight Bruce or Killer or whatever the fuck your name was 🤕🥊

- “her hand twitched like yours would” why was that line lowkey out of pocket. My mans has Parkinson’s Louis !!!!

- SHE DREAMS 😭 MY FUCKING GOD STOP MY EYES ARE GONNA BE PUFFY WHEN I WAKE UP TOMORROW

- that wasn’t even acting that was some REAL shit. Get Jacob Anderson his Emmy or Oscar or Tony or whatever the fuck I just need him to be awarded for his talent

- Daniel’s soft compassionate side: rare but that much more meaningful when it makes an appearance

- LOUIS you did not just do Emilia dirty like that TF!?! She helped you dude.

- “Human affairs. Their problem.” Not you listening to Lestat now of all times

- “Catfish with teeth” Louis can really read a bitch to filth can’t he?

- AHHH THERE ARE TWO OF THE FUCKERS 👹👹

- Oh shit he’s a kid okay I’m sorry for calling you an abomination earlier. That was mean.

- Woman vampire, you standing precariously close to that fire 👀

- Delainey’s facial expressions are the perfect blend of innocent and slightly unsettling

- OPP INTO THE FIRE SHE GOES rip 🔥

- What the hell is a bacon triptych am I just stupid don’t answer that

- Armand you ain’t beating the iPad kid allegations

- “It’s his drug” He said that with such malice. Is this a “he needed me but he needed drugs more” plot line???

- So Dubai Loumand is chilly frigid tepid frosty glacial

- Free feet? Okay im sorry

- “We can have him saying what happened next in no time” okay wait hold up why you making it sound like YOU don’t know what happened next and you need him to tell you???

- oh danny boy whistling while the couple he’s counseling walks in… is this a comedy or ?

- Daniel: yeah? 🤓 Armand: yeah 🫦

- “the mother of New Orleans” oh he misses home

- LMFAO Daniel interrupting Armand before he can start soliloquizing

- Louis and Claudia in a truck full of art which they belong in bc they too are pieces of art to me

- hard words. soft words. 🥺

- “a shit life beats no life” god damn this monologue feels like Louis is speaking directly to my soul

- “as long as you walk the earth I’ll never taste the fire” If this is foreshadowing I- I- I don’t know what I’ll do but it’s going to involve a baseball bat and a waffle iron and my head

- “it would be enough” pan to Lestat 💀 you can’t be fucking serious right now you just cannot

- okay it’s over and the teaser for the season just started playing and I just have to shout out the score bc damn if those violins don’t get me every god damn time

(Stutter) That’s all, folks! 🐷👋

[mother-above]

The Golden Warrior | Chapter 7

Azriel x Reader

Summary: To you, love was a poison that slowly killed. It was something that could make the strongest of warriors and leaders weak and vulnerable. You had successfully evaded romance and relationships for a century until the day you realized it had been plaguing you from within.

Chapters: 7/?

Word Count: 8.6k

Warnings: suggestive, violence, and swearing

*masterlist*

A/N: please bare with Azriel and the reader. They’re both stupid and have deep-rooted problems.

Azriel burst through his shadows and startled his family who were sitting by the campfire. They stopped their tasks to watch Azriel swiftly walk by them with clenched fists. He acknowledged no one as he entered his tent. Feyre and Mor looked at Rhysand and Cassian to see if they knew anything, but they shrugged. Giving him a few minutes to simmer down, Rhysand and Cassian make their way to Azriel’s tent to find him lying on his cot staring at the ceiling. After a few minutes of pestering, Cassian finally got Azriel to tell them about his frustrations toward your obliviousness to the bond.

Rhysand puts a comforting hand on Azriel's shoulder. “I know how you feel Az, I truly do. All you can do is be patient. She didn’t reject the bond, she doesn’t even know it exists,” said Rhysand. “Think about it, she just started getting to know you. It’s normal for her to assume you are inviting her as a friend.”

“I’m worried that the bond hasn’t snapped because she doesn’t like me,” admitted Azriel.

“That’s ridiculous,” exclaimed Rhysand. “Just give it time and everything will fall into place.”

Azriel shook his head. “We don’t have time,” he snapped. “I don’t know if we’ll survive this, and I can’t die knowing I never told my mate. I’m beginning to think keeping this from her isn’t a clever idea,” said Azriel as he pressed his palms over his eyes.

Cassian had avoided thinking about the possibility that his friends wouldn’t make it alive, their stories ceasing to exist beyond this war. It’s a miracle they’ve lived this long, and he was beginning to think that this was it. He couldn’t blame his brother for feeling desperate, Azriel found his mate and had no idea if they had any time together.

Cassian chewed the inside of his lips as he weighed Azriel’s options. “You told us she has some issues with relationships, right? I’m not going to tell you what to do but do you think it’ll do more good than bad? She might freak out and we need her full concentration, Az.”

Azriel sighed deeply and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, his whole body slumped forward. “You’re right.” The conversation in the Palace’s courtyard was still fresh in his head. He’d never met anyone so passionate and anti-relationship in his life.

He said nothing more as his shadows swarmed him. Rhysand and Cassian patiently waited for him to elaborate but they knew better, Azriel wasn’t going to say a word and would just sit there and ruminate in his thoughts. Once left alone, Azriel laid back down and stared at the ceiling. He could feel his chest tightening, the golden cord desperately reaching for its nonexistent other half.

Of course, my mate doesn’t want me. How foolish of me to think that the second-in-command of Dawn Court would give me, an Illyrian bastard, a chance, thought Azriel.

***

Hybern was moving fast, they had reached the border of the Winter Court and those who could winnow were scrambling to transfer the troops to the correct location. While the camps were being set up, the High Lords sent you on a reconnaissance mission. You were the fastest of the Peregryns and could glamour yourself to avoid detection. When you were airborne, you took notice of a shadow that was struggling to keep up with you. Rolling your eyes, you hold your hand out allowing the wisp to latch on and wrap around your fingers.

“Tell the shadowsinger that he needs to start trusting me to report accurate information,” you whispered to the shadow.

It chittered back but of course; you couldn’t understand it. Little did you know Azriel sent his shadows to alert him of any sign of trouble. With one whisper of danger from his shadows, Azriel would drop everything to find you.

After a couple of hours of scouting and traveling as fast as you could, you arrived at the main war tent to report to the High Lords and their military commanders. Sweating profusely, you dumped your helmet on the floor as Callon handed you a cold drink of water. The shadow that was curled around your hand skittered back to Azriel who stood in the corner of the room. Thesan, Rhysand, Tarquin, Helion, and Kalias patiently waited for you to catch your breath as you plopped onto a chair.

“I’m not going to lie, boys,” you said solemnly. Azriel held back a chuckle, only you would get away with calling the High Lords ‘boys.’ Except for Thesan, the other High Lords were secretly afraid of you. “What I saw was disheartening, the army was twice the size of the first battle. I tried looking to see if more ships were arriving by sea, but I saw no movement as far as I could see. It’s a possibility they glamoured their ships so I don’t know for sure.”

There were so many things to prepare for and you were constantly moving around the tent strategizing over the war table’s scale map of the battlefield. Despite being busy all day, so much of your attention was spent keeping track of Azriel’s whereabouts. You always wanted him in your line of sight, it was easy to evade him that way. Despite your diligence, it was hard to truly avoid him, especially after you realized that whenever his gaze landed on you, it felt like a cool breeze caressed your skin.

The last interaction you had with Azriel at the healer's tent was so intimate that it terrified you. You remember reveling in his presence and you hated that you were still thinking about it. Then there was the possibility of Azriel asking you out on a date. You were curious to know if that was what he meant or if your paranoia of someone getting close to you was affecting how you viewed his intentions.

Once battle strategizing was done, you allowed yourself to look over at Azriel who was talking to Cassian. You had to admit he looked incredibly handsome in his Illyrian leathers that it was tempting enough to go and talk to him. Before the Shadowsinger had the chance to make eye contact and weaken your resolve, you grabbed Thesan and Callon and winnowed them to the Dawn Court camp. The two males looked at your retreating form in shock, the force of your power making you winnow so fast, it gave them whiplash. They watched you enter your private tent and gave each other concerned looks.

Lounging in bed, you rubbed your chest hoping to get rid of this tight feeling, but it never prevailed. It was one of the reasons why you were so tired after your mission, the whole time you felt constricted even though there was nothing physically wrong with you. It was anxiety but you couldn’t pinpoint what was causing it. Was it about the upcoming battle? Your family's safety? The court's safety? Whatever it was, you hoped it would go away soon.

***

The cool crisp air drifting from the Winter Court felt like a blessing as it dried your warm and clammy skin. From the sky, the battlefield looked even more chaotic in comparison to what you saw on the ground. The Prythian troops were getting slightly overwhelmed, which prompted Thesan to signal that now was a suitable time to use your ‘venom’. Breathing hard and rubbing your chest, you force yourself to concentrate and harness your power. With enough of your golden energy gathered at the palm of your hands, you send a burst of magic to the Hybern soldiers.

Moments later, about two hundred soldiers dropped to their knees as they coughed up blood and keeled over. Some were screaming in pain and others just dropped dead. You tried to muster more magic, but it sputtered and only reached a couple dozen Hybern soldiers before noticing your magic reserves had run dry. The soldiers you killed allowed a few moments rest for Prythian, but it wasn’t enough, everyone was back to fighting. Joining the soldiers on the ground, you felt your cheeks redden knowing you barely made a dent against the enemy. The Courts desperately needed the upper hand, and you couldn’t give it to them.

Using your embarrassment as fuel, you moved swiftly and cut through the Hybern soldiers. Caked in dirt, blood, and sweat, the Prythians slowly moved forward as the scale tipped in your nation’s favor. At one point, you, Wyla, and Azriel formed a trio that worked well together quickly taking down the enemy. A day ago, you were avoiding the male, but you couldn’t afford to think like that. In battle, all of that was irrelevant, it was either kill or be killed.

It was mesmerizing watching Azriel fight, he was like an impenetrable wall with his sword and dagger. Even his shadows worked in tandem with him, they watched his back and were weapons themselves. You had forgotten his shadows were weapons too, those same wisps that once gently wrapped around your hands were now striking for the kill.

All was going well until you watched a Hybern commander cut Cassian from his navel to sternum. With your eyes wide open, a scream escaped your lips as your death and poison rolled off your fingers. With precision, you directed your magic to every single Hybern soldier within ten feet of Cassian. They dropped dead within seconds. With a beat of your wings, you were the first person to reach the General, your glowing hands the only thing keeping his organs inside.

“Shit!” you roared, laying Cassian on the ground. “Stay with me Cassian!” He was screaming in pain and there wasn’t much you could do but keep your glowing hands on him. If you let go, he was going to die.

His skin was stitching too slowly, and he was losing too much blood, you willed more healing magic toward his abdomen, but you were too tired. He was going to need a well-rested healer or Thesan, but he was still fighting. In seconds, you decided that you had to save your new friend. You winnowed the both of you to the joint Dawn and Night Court's healing tent, your abrupt arrival made them jump in surprise. They helped you place a too-pale Cassian on a cot and immediately began to help you heal.

Quickly wiping your bloody hands with a cloth, you efficiently ordered the team of Night and Dawn healers. “I want one of you to focus your magic on stopping his bleeding, someone to clean the impurities that got into his body, and I want another healer to start stitching the skin on the sternum. I will focus on the arrangement of the organs and begin reconnecting the abdominal muscles. Please and thank you.”

The Night Court healers knew who you were, word had spread that the Dawn healer they learned from decades ago was the 2nd in command and Golden Warrior. Most healers in Prythian learned what they knew from the schools in Dawn Court, and under the guise of a normal Dawn Court citizen, you were able to work and teach healers from all over Prythian. After careful and fast work, you were able to reconnect the abdominal muscles which meant the worst part had finally passed. His body would have to finish the rest of the healing but with the work you did, he was going to survive.

Cassian was only asleep due to a strong painkilling potion, but you could tell the pain was still there because his brows were furrowed. You and a healer named Madja were stitching his skin together when Azriel and Rhysand winnowed into the tent. You lifted a quizzical brow at Rhysand, and he verbally confirmed that the battle was over, and Thesan was safe. Rhysand stood over Cassian, his features a combination of concern and fury. From what you could gather from his and Azriel’s conversation, Cassian had disobeyed a direct order from his High Lord, and it resulted in today’s injury.

After you and a healer named Madja finished stitching to the best of your abilities, you sagged against the wall in complete exhaustion. Healing Cassian took all your remaining energy. Azriel rushed to your side and helped you sit on a cot. He felt how drained you were and drew you close to lean your body against his. You were so tired it didn’t even cross your mind how intimate this gesture was.

Rhysand and Azriel profusely thanked you for all you’ve done for their brother. Feyre and Mor rushed into the tent and the blonde made a beeline toward you. She wrapped you in a big hug and blubbered her ‘thank yous’ before making her way to Cassian.

Azriel was looking at you with his eyes wide open and his pupils blown out. He was so impressed he couldn’t believe you were his mate. Without you, he would have lost his brother and that alone made him forever indebted to you. He felt good now that you were safely by his side, the feeling of your weight against him made his heart flutter.

You cast your magic over Cassian one last time and nodded in approval. “He’s going to be fine, a few days rest and he’ll be back to normal. Make sure he takes it easy.”

Realizing how close you were to Azriel, you sat up and leaned away from his warm body. You stomped down the feeling of comfort you were getting from him. He opened his mouth to say something, but you didn’t give him a chance.

Azriel’s cheeks burned as he watched your mud-stained wings grow smaller as you briskly walked away. He was glad that his family was occupied with Cassian to take notice of him. He could tell you were avoiding him, and that very idea made him feel like shit. He knew he pushed too far by inviting you to Velaris, he should’ve listened to that little voice inside his head that told him he wasn’t worthy of love.

Turning his attention back to Cassian, he inspected the work you’ve done. He listened to Madja as she spoke to Feyre and Rhys. Madja was Rhysand’s most trusted healer and to hear her speak about you in such high regard made his chest swell. His shadows whispered their approval as they danced around him. He just wished he knew what you were thinking.

***

With your skin scrubbed clean and a fresh set of clothes, you walked into the main war tent with confidence. The icy blonde heads of the Winter Court swiveled in your direction, Kallias gave a nod to Thesan as Viviane waved you over to the chair next to her. The two of you were chatting about what type of potions you use for clear skin when you found out that Kallias had banned his wife from fighting.

Leaning forward dramatically, you glared at the High Lord of Winter. After semi-hostile banter and input from the other courts arriving, you helped convince Kallias to let Viviane fight in the next battle. You and Viviane were giggling about Kallias’s pout when you felt a cool caress on the scarred side of your face. You turned to see Azriel’s earnest eyes on you as Night Court filed into the tent.

Captivated, you keep eye contact before you see Viviane bristle in the corner of your eye. Her eyes were wide with a mixture of fear and fascination, following her gaze you saw someone you’ve only heard about.

Amren. Rhysand’s 2nd in command.

You could feel her power now that you noticed her presence. Her sharp eyes fleet across the room as she nods to everyone in her presence. The only thing you know about her is that she was thousands of years old and extremely powerful. Thesan and Rhysand waved you over to officially meet her and you could understand why everyone in the room stiffened when she came in, Amren was terrifying. Her stature was one of the shortest in the room and yet, she had this menacing aura around her.

Her silver eyes scanned you from head to toe and then looked curiously over to your wings. Everyone held their breath as they watched two powerful beings size each other up. Amren flashed her perfect teeth and grinned at you wickedly. She grasped your hand in a hold that you assumed was a custom way of greeting in whatever world she came from. She told you she was excited to work with you in the future.

The meeting finally started, and the High Lords and Generals discussed any advantages we could have. The court’s scouts were reporting that the next fight was most likely the last battle. Hybern’s forces increasingly grew as more ships transported them from their island. They were also moving into human territories, which posed another problem. The odds against Prythian’s armies and Hybern’s forces were looking grim.

While discussing Spring and Autumn Court’s participation, High Lord Helion pointed out that he could tell you were not reaching your full potential. He criticized Thesan for keeping you hidden away for all these years when you could have been trained to do bigger things. This pissed Thesan off, his teeth gritted as he tells Helion he had his reasons, but Helion was having none of it.

“Maybe that’s the extent of her power,” interjected Kallias. “She may be a great warrior but there could be a chance she’s not as powerful as we think. I think we’re putting too much pressure on someone who just can’t perform.”

Viviane grimaced as she looked at you for a reaction. Sometimes she couldn’t believe her husband didn’t get in any more fights with the way he talked and presented himself.

“There's no way in Hel her little display in yesterday’s battle is all she could do,” pressed Helion. “Do you not feel her power? I choke on it every time she walks into the room. She’s just untrained, that’s all.”

You cringed as the other High Lords and their entourage agreed. Feeling embarrassed, you reigned in your power and stored it in the sapphire necklace that appears on your neck. It was humiliating to hear them agree that you could do much more… save more Prythian lives if you were strong enough. Your heart started to pound, you wanted to defend yourself, but they were right.

Azriel could feel the anguish under your calm demeanor, he wished he could bash the heads of everyone who was speaking ill of you. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort you, but he couldn’t. Instead, he let a shadow discreetly curl around your ankle. Even if it was a small gesture, he had to do something to show his support.

The moment you felt the cool wisp touch your skin, you knew who and what it was. The burning anger in your chest slowed as you held the gaze of the Shadowsinger. You give him a discreet nod and he responds with the smallest quirk of his lips. To your surprise, another gesture of comfort came from Tarquin who sat on your other side. He placed a large reassuring hand on your thigh and kept it there, it was affectionate, and bewilderingly, you didn’t swat him away.

Tired of all the bullshit the males were spewing, Amren piped in as she picked on her red nails. “You choke on it because you’re all too weak to handle it,” she said coolly. “Don’t worry about our angel of death, she will be powerful enough when the time comes.”

You're not sure whether it was because everyone was afraid of Amren or because of the finality in her tone, but the topic thankfully changed. Her support was appreciated but you have no idea why she was confident in you. With a shadow still wrapped around your ankle, you sat and contemplated how you could reach your full potential.

***

The next few days were spent doing everything you and Thesan could think would help you harness control of your power. The problem wasn’t the stamina of your magic, for 12 hours straight you were doing extensive protective magic around the camps and your magic never faltered. After many theories were evaluated, it all boiled down to either a mental block or something the Mother or Cauldron intended. Thesan had ordered you to relax as much as you could but that was a ridiculous request. An attack on the camps could happen at any moment and it was impossible to relax when that was a possibility.

You had just spent the last 8 hours back in Dawn Court checking the magical shields in the borders and doing research with the priestesses. You invited them to your private library, and you all scoured the books for any information on how to develop your magic. No one found any new information on how to boost your powers, but the priestesses did stumble on something that could be useful. There was a death god named Achlys from thousands of years ago who could poison people like you. The ancient tome didn’t have much information, but Achlys was noted to have developed their magic and had become incredibly powerful. The priestess made a point that in theory, you should be able to cultivate your powers to grow stronger and do things you never imagined.

The head priestess, Irabel, revisited one of Thesan’s theories about your problem being connected to the Cauldron or the Mother. After some prayer, meditation, and focusing on your aura, she believed you were having problems because you were not “whole”. She said she sensed that there was a missing piece in your soul. You blinked at her as if she had two heads. You were more than a hundred years old; you would have noticed if a piece of your soul was missing.

She shook her head, “You may feel perfectly fine because you’ve never felt your soul completely intact.”

“Prythian is at war, and we desperately need every advantage. How do I find the missing piece?” you asked urgently. “I need to find the other piece.”

Irabel looks at you with a fond smile. “My lady, I think the Mother may be implying that you are blessed with a mate. I suspect that you won’t have full capacity of your powers until you are mated.”

Your ears started to ring. No fucking way. This was the last thing you wanted.

“W-what?” you stammered. This may be one of the worst news you’ve ever received. “High Priestess… a mate… the bond… that’s not an option for me.”

“This is all theory, but you do seem to be glowing brighter since the last time I saw you which was before Thesan came back from Under the Mountain. Maybe you’ve met your mate since then. Has there been someone you’ve met and had a connection with?”

Your mind drew a blank until a certain male with rich brown skin and turquoise eyes popped up. Tarquin. It had to be the High Lord of Summer; you should have suspected since you two became easy friends. Until Tarquin, you’ve never slept with the same male twice. Hot panic flooded your bloodstream, you couldn’t believe your worst fears were coming true.

“There’s not enough time for a mating bond,” you diverted. You were going to spare the High Priestess from your slander against something as sacred as a mate bond. Taking a moment to gather yourself, you looked at Irabel fiercely. “Please, there must be a way to be stronger by the time the battle arrives.”

She rested her chin on her steepled fingers. “We mustn't forget the power of sheer will. This may not be the answer you were looking for, but it may be your best chance.”

Once you said goodbye to the priestesses and received word they were safely back in their temple, you winnowed to the war camps. You trudged to Thesan’s tent where you ranted about the discoveries to your cousin and Callon. Thesan kept note to do further research on the god named Achlys, but Callon was far more concerned about finding out who your mate was. At first, you weren’t going to tell them who you thought it was but Thesan and Callon were persuasive. Thesan promised you an exceedingly long vacation if you told them, so you did.

The shock on both their faces was almost worth the agony of knowing you might have a mate and it was probably Tarquin. Thesan didn’t say a word as he looked at you quizzically. Callon on the other hand could barely contain his excitement. He knew you never wanted to be in a relationship, but he couldn’t help but feel joyous for you.

You weren’t on a battlefield today but the level of exhaustion you were feeling felt like you’d participated in one. The weight to perform in the final battle sat heavily on your shoulders and all this nonsense about a mate made things worse.

Saying goodnight, you walked to your tent warily looking around hoping a certain High Lord wasn’t popping by for a visit. You had no idea if you could even look at Tarquin now that you knew what you knew. You scrutinized every interaction you had with him and the more you did that, the more you were convinced he might be your mate. Despite everything, the mating bond must not have snapped because you felt nothing, and you were grateful for that. It would be difficult to avoid Tarquin forever, so you vowed to never touch him again to avoid the snap.

Irritation crawled up your neck at the thought of the High Lord of Summer. In an attempt to forget about him, you submerged yourself in the hot bath water. After washing up and getting dressed, you were so tired that you only bothered to wear underwear and a long tunic that stopped mid-thigh.

Flopping into bed, sleep quickly took over as vivid dreams enveloped your mind. It was a strange dream, nothing was making sense, but you felt like you were being chased, the sounds of howling behind you. The rest of the dream was muddled, the only thing you could clearly see was a scene of Azriel only wearing his Illyrian leather pants. He was leaning forward like he was in pain; blood was dripping from his torso and wings. The rest of the dream was bland, you were just about to peacefully doze in dark bliss when a heavy hand shook your shoulder.

“Quick! Get up, it’s the Shadowsinger!” said Callon urgently. “He needs a healer.”

You rolled out of bed and sprung onto your feet at the mention of Azriel. “What’s happening? Did Hybern attack the camps?” you asked, frantically looking around the tent.

Callon shook his head. “Something happened with the Night Court. Rhysand winnowed in Azriel and requested you since you know more about wings. It’s bad.”

The graveness of Callon’s voice made you make a beeline toward the exit only stopping to tug boots onto your feet. It was past midnight, and the only bright light was coming from the healer's tent. You strode in and the first thing you saw was Azriel who was bickering with Rhysand who was trying to get his brother to sit down and relax.

A gasp escaped your lips as you saw the injuries inflicted on Azriel’s body. There he was- shirtless and roughed up just like the scene from your dream. There were slow healing cuts everywhere and parts of his wings were ripped to shreds. Your eyes roamed over the expanse of his tattooed chest, he was still glistening in sweat, and it made the black swirls that decorated his skin pop out.

Their eyes snapped at you, Azriel’s eyes widened and then his body went slack as he sunk onto a cot. The sudden movement made the claw marks bleed more. Thesan who was assessing the damage looked up and sighed in relief.

“Thank goodness you’re here! He was shot by a faebane arrow and Nuan’s anti-faebane compound can only do so much. It’s affecting both of our healing abilities, and his wings aren’t looking too good,” said Thesan. “Do you think you can extract the poison?”

You stepped closer and peered at his lacerations. You could smell the sharp scent of faebane from the arrow wound on his shoulder. This was something you’d never done before but you could try.

Sitting next to Azriel, you hovered a glowing hand over a wound and you felt the strange resistance of faebane. You grasped his shoulder and Azriel winced at your touch.

“How bad does it hurt?” you asked.

Azriel rolled his neck trying to ignore the burning pain. “The arrow puncture doesn’t hurt much, it’s my wings I’m worried about,” said Azriel.

You sucked in a breath as you glanced at his wings. They were going to need extensive work and it was going to be extremely painful for him.

“You didn’t answer my question,” you said as you started the process of concentrating energy onto your fingers. “How are you feeling right now?”

“I feel better now that you’re here,” said Azriel honestly.

Rhysand’s eyes widened as Thesan and Callon shot each other looks. Your mouth curved into a smile as Azriel sputtered.

“You know- I feel better because you’re a master healer with wings,” said Azriel. “I’m in good hands.”

“Of course,” you said taking hold of his shoulder once more.

Azriel wanted to disappear into his shadows. He couldn’t believe he said that in front of everyone.

Closing your eyes, you breathed deeply as the magic concentrated in your hand. Instead of willing the poison to be released from you, you pressed your fingertips onto his skin as you tried to will the faebane out of the wound.

“I am death and poison,” you whispered, barely audible. Golden tendrils from your hand are absorbed into his skin. “Like calls to like. Come to me.”

Azriel’s eyes widened as he felt the strange sensation of your magic, it stung but your proximity was enough distraction. He let your presence calm his mind as he watched your magic in awe. Azriel moved his gaze to see your face slightly scrunched in concentration, the scar on the side contorting as your eyes crinkled. From the beginning, he was always attracted to you but the more time he spent with you, he found your beauty to be always flourishing.

Ever so slowly, you retract your fingers, and the tendrils had latched onto blood that was poisoned by faebane. Carefully, you pulled out all the faebane you could detect in Azriel’s system. Rhysand, Thesan, and Callon watched in wonder as they had never seen anything like this. Once you were finished and had a mass of Azriel’s poisoned blood properly disposed of in some pocket realm, they exploded into excited chatter.

While you appreciated their appreciation, there was still much to be done and they were far too distracting.

“Boys!” you snapped. “I may have gotten the poison out, but we are not out of the woods yet. Either shut up and let me work in silence or get out of the tent!”

Azriel chuckled as he watched his brother, Dawn’s High Lord, and a strong warrior shuffle out of the tent. He loved the idea that his mate had the power to make the High Lords do what you wanted. Granted it was your cousin and Rhysand, but it still meant that his mate was powerful, and he was beginning to adore that about you.

With no distractions, you were able to carefully work on Azriel’s wounds. To distract him from the pain, you asked him what happened. He explained that Hybern had taken Feyre’s sister Elain and that he and the High Lady went on a mission to retrieve her. He ended up having to carry Elain and a human girl while under attack. You gaped at him as you thought of the sheer strength it must have taken to do that. It explained the feminine scents that lingered on his skin you noticed earlier.

The scents weren’t the only thing you noticed. The black swirled tattoos that covered his chest and arms were so beautiful, you had to keep refocusing your attention. The swirls were mesmerizing, they reminded you of his shadows and you couldn’t stop looking. The black ink curved against the muscles under his skin, you had never gotten over how muscular this male was.

Once the wounds on his torso were taken care of, you moved to sit behind him so you could start mending his severely injured wings. Well aware Illyrian wings were sensitive, you wanted to survey what you had to work with before you touched him. Callon wasn’t lying when he said the wings were bad, they were wrecked, and you had no idea if they would heal in time for the big battle. With how tense Azriel was, you were sure the male was putting on a strong façade because if your wings looked like this, you’d be in agony.

“Azriel, I'm going to need to touch your wings to heal you,” you said. “Do I have permission?”

Azriel suddenly felt a little light-headed, he wasn’t sure if was from blood loss or the anticipation of you near his wings again. He nodded and sucked in a breath when he felt your warm hands poke and prod his wings as you examined him. He was glad he was in pain, otherwise, he didn’t think he’d be able to resist you.

“How do they look? Will I fly again?” said Azriel. He was so caught up in your presence that he had almost forgotten why he was in a healer's tent.

“I’m not going to lie,” you said softly “It doesn’t look good, but I haven’t started yet, my answer could change when we’re done.”

He turned to look at you and your heart plunged a little. He looked scared and vulnerable, the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen a warrior be. You don’t blame him, the idea of losing the freedom to fly was something you could understand.

“You should know it’s going to be painful, pain like you’ve never felt before,” you warned. “I’m going to do my best, but you’ll have to bear with me.”

“I trust you,” said Azriel.

It was strange to hear that coming from his own tongue. He had never trusted anyone this quickly, but he knew who you were to him. Despite the knowledge that you were his mate, his gut could tell that he could trust you with his life.

He said it with such conviction, that a gentle smile graced your lips.

“Thank you, Azriel. Good to know I have it,” you said. Clearing your throat, you place your hands on his shoulders and make him turn around again. “I want you to talk to me, tell me anything that’ll get your mind off the pain.”

He nodded and then the slow and excruciating process began. He felt every tug and magical stitch and it sent him rambling more about the mission and how he had to escape Hybern while carrying an Archeron sister and a human girl. You carefully worked and listened intently, his deep voice letting you slip into an ultra-concentrated trance. It was broken when you hit a nerve which sent Azriel gripping the cot and letting out a strained yelp. You apologized and let him gather himself before leaning down to continue healing.

“What was your childhood like?” you asked, trying to distract him.

Azriel’s shadows began to swarm around him, protective of their master. He wordlessly told them that it was alright, so they calmed.

“My childhood was… difficult,” replied Azriel. “You know, I’m no stranger to pain. It’s all I’ve felt my entire life.”

Your fingers froze over his wings, was he going to talk about the scars on his hands?

Letting out a shaky breath, you replied. “Oh?”

Blinking, you continued to heal while doing your best to calm your heartbeat. A part of you was eager to find out if you did have dreams about Azriel being locked in a cellar. A larger part of your subconscious was scared to find out because it would mean there was a deeper connection between the two of you. Even when you weren’t thinking about it, your heart was always protecting you.

Azriel glanced down at his clenched fists. Those scarred hands that he hated so much. He decided not to tell you what really happened to him, he didn’t want to scare you away with his childhood trauma. So instead, he resorted to deflecting which he was an expert at.

“Enough about me, I want to know what’s troubling you,” said Azriel as he smirked and looked back at you.

You raised a brow. “What makes you think something is troubling me?

“First of all, your energy is practically suffocating me at this moment and the second reason is you’re not wearing any pants. You’re Thesan’s 2nd, you would never step out in public looking informal.”

Jerking back in surprise, you looked down to see that he was right. You were only wearing a tunic and boots, your bare skin brushing against his waistband and back. Hyper-aware of how close you were to Azriel, you moved backward as heat rushed to your cheeks.

“I apologize for my appearance; I was in such a rush I didn’t realize I only had my tunic on!”

Azriel shrugged nonchalantly, the movement making him grimace in pain.

“It’s alright. I appreciate the urgency,” said Azriel.

You continued your delicate work on his wings while making sure there was enough distance between the two of you.

“You didn’t answer my first question. What’s gotten you so distracted you forgot to put pants on?” asked Azriel. “Is it the upcoming battle?”

Chewing the inside of your lip, you contemplated whether you should say anything. This was an incredibly personal topic but the weight it had on your shoulders was intense, you needed to talk about it. Choosing your words carefully, you make sure you don’t reveal too much.

“I was recently told that to be more powerful, I would have to find the other half of my soul…” you said quietly. “When I was searching for answers, that was the last thing I wanted to hear.”

Is she talking about the mate bond? Does she know about our bond? thought Azriel.

His heart started to pound as he tried to form the proper words in his head. Azriel stammered, “Uh- when you say your other half, do you mean—"

“The oh-so-sacred mate bond?” you interrupted; your voice laced with dismay.

Azriel felt the blood drain from his face, you sounded scared. “You told me you didn’t like relationships, but I didn’t think it extended to the mating bond.”

You sighed as you focused on healing a tendon in his wing. “I told you I have complicated feelings about love. What’s troubling me is I think I may have met my mate and I know who it is.”

“Oh?” said Azriel shakily. “Who do you think it is?”

“Before I say anything, you need to promise you won’t speak a word about this to anyone else. If you break my trust, I swear I’ll make sure you shit and vomit for an entire day. It’ll be the worst day of your life.”

Azriel hastily agreed. He wanted to laugh but the suspense was overpowering everything.

“Well, I don’t know for sure, but the High Priestess suspects I have a mate, and if her theory is right…. I think it’s someone I've recently slept with,” you admitted.

Jealousy ignited within the shadowsinger as he turned to look at you. You protested his sudden movement and his wings and muscles screamed at him, but Azriel couldn’t care less. He felt his blood boil as he thought of another male touching you. It took everything in him not to demand who your lover was, you had every right to sleep with anyone you wanted and Azriel had to live with that.

“What are you going to do about it?” asked Azriel lowly. His head was spinning, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to hear your answer.

You looked down in shame, were you going to tell Azriel how you planned to never talk to Tarquin again? The entire idea was ridiculous, but you were going to do anything to make sure that bond would never snap between the both of you. Slowly, you looked up to see Azriel’s exhausted features but despite everything he’d been through today, his gaze was sharp and calculating. There was a tinge of vulnerability in his hazel eyes, you weren’t sure why but that was enough to convince you to be honest.

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you looked down at your still-glowing hands. “I don’t know… ignore him forever? All I know is I’m terrified.”

“I don’t understand, what’s so scary about it?”

“Something as strong as the mate bond makes you so vulnerable and weak. I’ve seen what it’s done to my parents and other couples, the bond is a weakness and I refuse to let it distract me,” you admitted. “It doesn’t even have to be a mate bond, love itself is a corruption.”

Azriel was speechless as he tried to come up with something to say. He had never met anyone like you, and it made his heart twist knowing that his mate thought like this. In his silence, you gently urged him to turn around so you could continue to heal him. You were almost done stitching his wings when he finally spoke.

“What happened to you?” he asked, he didn’t bother hiding the sadness and confusion in his voice. “What happened to make you think like this?”

You thought about telling him about your parents, but you stopped yourself, it was too difficult and too personal to talk about. Instead, you let your hand's repetitive movements lull you into a memory.

“25 years ago, I was out on patrol with two Peregryns who were spouses. A creature was wreaking havoc on a town and at the time, we didn’t know it was a Puca.”

Azriel breathed sharply, he already knew it was going to be a horrible end.

“At one point, we were all separated and the Puca lured the wife pretending to be her injured husband. It was too late when we noticed, I didn’t even hear her yell…it was her blood that I smelt first. Her husband and I killed the Puca but the scream he let out when he saw her body—I can still hear it sometimes,” you said thickly. “We would check on him occasionally, but he was never the same. He was a shell of a male; it was only when the curse broke that I saw him walking around the city and even then, he looked ghastly and bleak.”

No one spoke after that, just the quiet shuffling of your hands moving and you and Azriel’s heartbeats. You wondered what Azriel was thinking, he probably lost all respect for you once he heard your opinions on something so sacred. Casting your magic over his wings and other injuries, you concluded that you did everything possible and that only time would heal the rest of his wounds.

Mindful you were going to face him after your haphazard explanation of why you don’t want a mate, you gathered your courage to reveal the bad news. Moving to sit on the cot across from Azriel, you explained to him that he was going to need at least 2 weeks of complete rest. It took him a second but when it dawned on him that he wouldn’t be able to participate in the big battle, he slumped forward and covered his face with his hands.

You looked at him in shock, you expected him to argue and fight against your orders, but he just sat there and breathed heavily. While you were concerned for the shadowsinger, Azriel was holding back hysterical laughter and roars of frustration. He wasn’t angry at you; he was furious at the world for all the hardships they’d thrown at him.

His own mate was so frightened and resistant of the mate bond, that you had deluded yourself into thinking another male was your mate. If only you knew who you were talking to, thought Azriel, you’d have a heart attack. He also cursed the universe for his injuries. How could he keep still while you and his family were fighting for their country? Azriel thought he was going to snap until he felt you place a hand on his knee.

“Azriel? I’m so sorry, I know how much you want to fight but your wings won’t last,” you said gently. “If you try to fly too soon, you’ll have irreparable damage on your wings.”

Collecting his thoughts, it took him a while to respond. “What if I don’t fly? Can’t I stay on the ground and fight there?” asked Azriel.

You looked at the beautiful, battered male in front of you. The healing you and Thesan could only do so much once faebane had affected it. You were able to remove the poison from his blood, but the damage was already done.

Shaking your head, you squeezed his knee in an attempt to comfort him. “I’m sorry, baby bat. I wouldn’t risk it if you want to fly again, I’ll make sure Rhysand gets briefed, so you don’t try to undermine my orders.”

He chuckled and a smile made its way to your lips at the rich sound. The both of you sat in silence once more, listening to the nocturnal animals make their faint sounds around the war camp.

“I think I understand you better now,” said Azriel, his voice slicing through the air. “You’re not scared of love or relationships. You shut yourself out because you’re scared of losing people. You’re scared of how much it’ll hurt once someone you genuinely love disappears from your life.”  

Your jaw dropped as you blinked at him. No one had ever spoken to you that bluntly, let alone try to analyze your character like that and you did not like it. He was wrong but something about his words rang true. It almost seemed like Azriel was trying to make you feel bad for feeling like that, but it only did the opposite.

Memories of your parent's abandonment flooded your mind, and you blinked back tears. You were going to make sure that bond would never snap between you and Tarquin.

You would do anything.

“I don’t think you understood my story,” you chided, leaning closer to Azriel. “I don’t want a mate or a lover because I don’t want to be weak.”

Azriel raised a brow, he didn’t think you’d be this hard-headed. “Love doesn’t make you weak, little dove. Ignorance does.”

“It’s not ignorance, it’s awareness,” you quipped back. “Look me in the eye and tell me that you haven’t been worried sick about Morrigan in the last two battles. You took your eye off the enemy, Azriel, that sounds like vulnerability to me.”

Azriel couldn’t believe you mentioned Morrigan. He wished he could tell that it was you who he was always checking on, but he couldn’t do that. He wished he could tell you that a mate is what he’s been waiting for all his life.

The world felt eerily still as you and Azriel gravitated closer to each other, both of you desperate for the other individual to see their point. Azriel’s burning gaze took in the beauty of his irrational mate. If only you knew the whole truth, you’d be swallowing your words. With your faces inches apart, your eyes hovered over his lips and something within wanted to press your lips against his… to do anything to forget the High Lord of Summer.

Slowly, the scent of the disinfectants and potions in the tent dispersed into the nether. The only thing you could smell was the pleasant waft of cedarwood and the chilled mist of night. Your gaze flickered to his hazel eyes and suddenly, all thoughts of formality, consequence, and reason flew out the window.

“Can I kiss you?”

Azriel sharply inhaled. Did he just hear you correctly? He thought his mind was playing tricks with him until he saw the intensity in your eyes. “Why?” he asked shakily.

“Help me forget him,” you whispered. “I don’t want to be weak.”

Azriel should’ve said no for both his and your sake. He could only imagine how furious you would be once you found out he was your actual mate, but he couldn’t resist this request. He was desperate for you, and he would take scraps if that was all you would give him. For you, he was learning he would do anything.

He never thought he could feel heartbroken and elated at the same time. Azriel took his hand and placed it tenderly on the scarred side of your face. Your eyes go wide as he gently strokes your cheek with his thumb. Wholly taking advantage of the opportunity you gave him, he memorized every single detail, down to every hair, fine line, freckle, and beauty mark on your face. Gathering his courage, he pulled you towards him and you met him halfway.

The moment your lips met; everything went blank. All was forgotten but Azriel. His presence was the only thing you could sense. Everything felt magnified. His lips were soft as they slowly moved against yours. The scrape of your tunic sleeve as it brushed against his chest sounded like thunder. The smooth glide of your hands felt like silk as you gently pulled him closer where his neck met his shoulder.

Being this close and kissing Azriel felt exhilarating, so much so that your golden glow was detected with closed eyes. You don’t know if it was 30 seconds or 30 minutes but time felt different. Slightly out of breath, the both of you leaned your foreheads against each other in disbelief. Suddenly, the loud chatter of Rhysand and Thesan by the tent opening makes you and Azriel spring apart.

You were just able to stand up and straighten yourself out when Rhysand and your cousin casually strode in, their faces smooth and unreadable. Moments later Calon and Cassian walked in, and they met your eye with smirks on their lips. You cringed at the thought of the four fae hearing what went down between you and Azriel. You gave the warriors a warning glare that would ensure their silence for the time being.

Still slightly dazed from your kiss with Azriel, you gestured to Rhysand to walk with you to the corner of the tent in a desperate attempt to clear your mind before speaking to the High Lord. Clearing your throat, you explained to Rhysand what you were able to mend and how much damage the faebane had done to his body. You tell him that you highly recommend Azriel to be banned from fighting in the next battle. Rhysand asked questions and you prayed to the Mother he wouldn’t mention anything about the shadowsinger’s scent that wafted from you.

As the shadowsinger watched his mate talk to his brother, Azriel tugged hard against the golden thread in his chest but to his dismay, the other side was still vast and empty. He still couldn’t believe he’d kissed you, with the way things were going, he never thought he’d get the chance. Despite the bond not snapping for you, Azriel could tell with the way you were breathless and glowing; that at this moment, whoever your lover was, was long forgotten.

For now, this was enough for Azriel.

[anonymousewrites]

Burden of Truth (Book 1) Chapter Eight

Father Figure! Marc Spector x Teen! Reader

Father Figure! Steven Grant x Teen! Reader

Mother Figure! Layla El-Faouly x Teen! Reader

Chapter Eight: To Mogart

Summary: With little luck, Marc and (Y/N) bump into Layla, who has a solution to finding their own clue to Ammit's tomb.

            Marc and (Y/N) walked through the marketplace of Cairo as (Y/N) kept an eye out for possible people to talk to. They had seen a lot of black-market dealings in their time, and that meant they had seen a lot of black-market dealers.

            “Do you recognize anyone?” asked Marc.

            “Not yet,” said (Y/N). “But it’s possible new fronts and new workers could be a part of the scene. If I don’t recognize them, it’s my fault.”

            “You’re doing the best you can, kid,” said Marc. “And I can’t do better.”

            (Y/N) glanced at him, unsure of how to react—still confused in interactions. They opted to nod curtly.

            “…About what Harrow said,” said Marc. “Are you alright?”

            Pouring from him, the words couldn’t be held back. Marc had seen (Y/N)’s reactions to Harrow’s words and accusations, and he didn’t like it. They were a kid. They were working harder for what was right than most adults did. They were good. They didn’t deserve to be looked down on or hurt by Harrow.

            Did I deserve to be hurt?

            Banishing the thought, Marc looked at (Y/N) as their eyes flicked to the ground before raising again.

            “He didn’t lie,” said (Y/N). “My parents died. I am a young Avatar.” They furrowed their brow. “But…I don’t understand why that meant my words could be dismissed. I told the truth, but no one listened.”

            “None of the gods are fair,” said Marc. His hand rose to pat (Y/N)’s shoulder (affectionately), but he forced it back down. “You did the right thing, though. They’re the ones who were stupid enough to listen more to Harrow.”

            “Thanks,” said (Y/N) quietly, pulling the cuffs of their jacket.

            “How have you guys not gotten anywhere with this whole mission?”

            As a new voice entered the conversation, Marc and (Y/N) whirled. Layla stared at them, hands on her hips.

            “You’re so close, but I guess experience doesn’t make up for being Egyptian and really knowing this place,” said Layla, smirking.

            “Layla, what the hell are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here,” said Marc.

            “Why? Because my name pisses off a few people in Cairo?” said Layla.

            “Well, that could cause a problem,” pointed out (Y/N).

            Perfectly unconcerned, Layla shrugged. “Who cares?”

            “It’s not the locals I’m worried about,” said Marc.

            Layla rolled her eyes. “Just come with me. I’ll help you find what you need.”

            “We have been pretty slow,” said (Y/N). “Harrow’s already on the track of Ammit’s tomb.”

            Marc’s jaw clenched, but he nodded.

            “Perfect! Follow me,” said Layla.

l

            That evening, Layla, Marc, and (Y/N) ended up on a boat filled with a family playing music and dancing with one another. Lively, upbeat melodies filled the air, and (Y/N) smiled as they watched, enchanted, as the family celebrated being together as one. As the sun dipped in the east, fiery light danced across the waves as the boat skimmed over the river.

            “So, what exactly are we gonna do here? What’s the plan?” asked Marc.

            Layla raised a brow. “Oh. It’s not pleasant being left in the dark, is it?”

            Marc’s jaw clenched. “Okay.”

            This is one way to ruin the happy family moment, thought (Y/N), sighing.

            “I get that you’re not happy about me leaving so quickly and coming to Cairo,” said Marc. “I understand.”

            “Wait. Is that your apology?” Layla scoffed. “That’s good. That’s really good.”

            (Y/N) didn’t need their ability to know she was lying and being sarcastic.

            “Just so we can get through tonight, maybe let’s just give our shit a rest for a moment and just try to strategize before we get to…” Actually unsure, Marc trailed off.

            “Mogart’s,” finished Layla.

            “Mogart’s?” repeated Marc.

            (Y/N) had heard of him—an antiquities “collector” who was really just a thief and a black-market dealer.

            “Just so you know, I’m not here to help you,” said Layla sharply to Marc. “I’m here for me and for everyone else who would die if Harrow succeeds.” Gesturing to (Y/N), she continued, “And you’re bringing a kid to a fight, so I have every right to take charge.”

            (Y/N) blinked, and they pulled on their sleeves. First Marc, now Layla. Two adults seemed…concerned, or something like that, about them. Due to the unfamiliarity of the feeling, (Y/N) found themself uncomfortable.

            Marc nodded stiffly. “Copy that.”

            “Got it,” said (Y/N), spilling the words out quickly.

            “Good,” said Layla.

            Marc swallowed. “But I am sorry. For whatever that’s worth.”

            Truth. (Y/N) felt it in their bones. They smiled.

            Clearing his throat, Marc brushed aside his vulnerability. “So, this Mogart guy. He’s really gonna have his sarcophagus?”

            “Yes. I asked around,” said Layla. “Mogart’s collection is prime gossip for those of us who deal in antiquities.”

            Abruptly, the music grew louder, and the three at the end of the boat looked back at the others. They were dancing and laughing, in their own world of fun, outside of Marc, Layla, and (Y/N)’s more complicated one.

            Marc smiled and gazed at Layla. “I haven’t heard that sound since…” His eyes softened. “Since our wedding.”

            Layla couldn’t help a smile in return. Feeling it, however, she cleared her throat and looked at (Y/N). She escaped from sharing vulnerability. “(Y/N), we’ll be heading downriver for a while longer. You should take a rest.”

            “I can keep going,” said (Y/N).

            Layla raised a brow, and (Y/N)’s heart clenched as they remembered how their mom used to affectionately scold them, making them feel guided and protected. “Uh-huh. You can, but that doesn’t mean you should. Rest. Unlike Marc, I’m not running off anytime soon.”

            “…Alright.”

            Layla spoke no lies, and, although able to continue, (Y/N) was tired. From running around Cairo to fighting to channeling Ma’at to pleading with the gods for them to listen, (Y/N) had gone through about as much any person could take without crashing. They lay down on the bench, closed their eyes, and drifted off into blissful silence as the sounds of a joyful family swam around them hauntingly.

l

            “They shouldn’t be here,” said Layla, looking at (Y/N). She wanted them to rest, yes, but she had also wanted to talk to Marc about bringing a child into danger.

            “They’re an Avatar. Harrow knows who they are. They’re in more danger alone than they are with me. Us,” said Marc.

            Layla remained unimpressed. “They’re more in danger with you.”

            Clenching his jaw, Marc looked away. How was he supposed to answer? Layla was right. Around him, (Y/N) was in danger. Yes, they were an Avatar, but they had still been unseen, working in the shadows, until Marc got involved with Harrow and exposed them in the Alps with Steven.

            It was his fault they were in danger. Marc couldn’t just leave them. He had failed to protect others he led into danger. He couldn’t fail to protect (Y/N). They were too much like him. Like Randall.

            Marc wanted them to turn out better than he had.

            “Maybe. But who else cares about that other than us?” said Marc.

            Layla looked at the sleeping teen. She nodded shortly. Who else was there to care about (Y/N)?

l

            “(Y/N).”

            Sitting up, (Y/N) opened their eyes as they heard Marc speak to them. “What?”

            “We’re here,” said Marc.

            (Y/N) looked around. The boat was docking in front of a small carnival with glass, pyramidal structures behind a dirt track for horses. Marc, Layla, and (Y/N) disembarked and approached the grass lawn.

            “This guy’s got a lot of friends,” said Marc.

            “Yeah, and a lot with guns,” said Layla.

            “What else did we expect?” said (Y/N).

            Marc glanced around, and his eyes landed on a small motorboat approaching the pier. They had no lights and were looking around suspiciously.

            “What is it?” asked (Y/N), seeing Marc’s body-language tense.

            “Harrow’s men keeping tabs?” wondered Layla, narrowing her eyes.

            “I don’t know. Could be,” said Marc warily.

            “Let’s go,” said Layla, turning towards the carnival. They needed to focus and get this done. The longer they waited, the closer to Ammit Harrow got. “Remember, Marc, your name is Rufino Estrada. (Y/N), your name is Mariana Estrada.”

            Like the Mariana Trench? (Y/N) was confused but nodded.

            “Right,” said Marc.

            “We just got back from a family vacation in the Maldives,” said Layla.

            (Y/N) flinched at the mention of family. The last time they had one…they lost everything. Still, part of them ached at the word, and they sat up straighter.

            “These are strange details to give them,” said Marc.

            “I’d tell them you worked at a gift shop and they were some random kid, but they’d never believe me, would they?” said Layla pointedly.

            The three approached the horse track, and a security guard approached.

            “Bek,” greeted Layla.

            “Layla,” said Bek, glancing at Marc and (Y/N).

            “It’s been a while. Good to see you,” said Layla.

            Bek nodded to her. “Right this way.”

            “Thank you,” said Layla, smiling.

            “He’s looking forward to seeing her,” said Bek as he guided them closer to the horse ring. “After Madripoor, I’m sure you two will have a lot to talk about.”

            Madripoor did have quite a few issues recently, thought (Y/N), reminiscing on the super-soldier serum reproduction and gunbattle that had gone down with, reportedly, Avengers.

            “Excuse me for one moment,” said Bek. “Mr. Mogart will be with you shortly.”

            He walked away, and Layla, Marc, and (Y/N) were left watching the men ride horses with lances.

            “So, what? This joker just puts on El-Mermah games in his backyard, for fun?” said Marc, unimpressed.

            “No, he gets private lessons by the best in his backyard,” said Layla.

            “Using money from trading what doesn’t belong to him,” murmured (Y/N).

            Bek approached one man, Mogart, and he descended from his horse. Bek placed a red robe around his shoulders, and Mogart smiled at the group across the track.

            “I like the robe,” muttered Marc.

            Lie. But (Y/N) didn’t need to be told that.

            “Layla,” called Mogart. “Come in.” He walked towards them, and the three came onto the track. “Such a delight to see you.”

            “You, too,” said Layla.

            Mogart took her hand and kissed the back. “How have you been?”

            “Good. Thank you for having us over on such short notice,” said Layla.

            “Oh, please. I hope you realize you need no excuse to drop by,” said Mogart.

            Ignoring us to flirt with Layla and annoy Marc. Is this a man thing? thought (Y/N).

            Layla patted Marc’s shoulder and smiled at (Y/N). “This is my husband, Rufino, and my step-kid, Mariana.”

            “Nice to meet you,” said Marc stiffly, sticking out his hand.

            “Pleasure,” said Mogart, refusing to shake it a moment before taking it to show who was in charge (again, men). He nodded to (Y/N). “Cute kid.”

            (Y/N) avoided eye-contact and nodded.

            “Come, follow me. I’ll show you my collection,” said Mogart, turning towards the pyramidal structures. “I hope you understand, though, that this is more than a collection for me. Preserving history is a responsibility I take very seriously.”

            Marc gave (Y/N) a pointed look to not say anything since they clearly thought differently about his habits and was about to speak way too honestly.

            “A self-appointed responsibility that you alone were able to enjoy, no?” Unfortunately, Marc had forgotten to make sure Layla wouldn’t say anything.

            “Well, as I prefer to see it as a philanthropic effort at preservation,” said Mogart. “Now, if I may ask, why such interest in Senfu in particular?”

            “Oh, actually, our purchases—”

            “I’m sorry.” Mogart interrupted Layla and looked at Marc and (Y/N). “I’d like to hear from your husband or stepchild, if you don’t mind.”

            Marc and Mogart stared at each other evenly, and Mogart crossed his arms.

            “I think…I would just love to take a look,” said Marc, not the best lie by a long shot.

            “I like learning about Egyptian history,” said (Y/N). “And this is a great opportunity.” Not a lie at all, both were true facts. However, (Y/N) wouldn’t be learning about history in general but in Ammit.

            Mogart looked between them and nodded. Gesturing to the pyramid behind him, he said, “Feel free.”

            “Great,” said Layla, smiling. She took his and (Y/N)’s arms and walked into the pyramid. Quietly, she whispered, “Marc, just let Steven out before you blow this.”

            “Not a chance.” Marc looked at the sarcophagus. “Alright, what do you see?”

            “The burial practices are in line with the Studenwachen texts,” said (Y/N).

            “The what?” said Marc.

            “You know those?” asked Layla.

            “Ma’at makes sure I know a lot about Egyptian history,” said (Y/N). And my parents taught me before her. “The sarcophagus is legit, but all I see is the literature to guide the dead. I don’t see a location for Ammit’s tomb.”

            “Because the information has to be unlocked.” Steven spoke, and (Y/N) and Marc glanced up to the reflection in the glass ceiling. “It’s coded.”

            “Okay, um…” Marc took a deep breath. “Will you give me a minute? I gotta talk to Steven. Just keep Mogart occupied, and don’t let (Y/N) speak, they can’t lie.”

            Layla looked at (Y/N) in confusion.

            “I really can’t,” said (Y/N) honestly.

            Taking a deep breath, Layla nodded. “Come on.” They stepped out of the glass pyramid and left Marc and Steven to figure out the mystery of Senfu’s sarcophagus.

            Layla smiled at Bek and Mogart. “He just needs a couple minutes in there alone ‘cause…yeah. He is…” She looked back and winced. Marc was clearly speaking inside the pyramid. “He’s praying.”

            Marc and Steven’s talk isn’t going well, thought (Y/N), frowning worriedly.

            “Is he reaching into the sarcophagus?” said Mogart, frowning.

            “I’m sure he isn’t,” said Layla, but Marc was, guided by Steven.

            “Bek,” said Mogart, narrowing his eyes.

            Bek walked towards the pyramid, and with his back turned, Marc didn’t see him coming. Bek touched his arm.

            “Hey, what are you—”

            On instinct, Marc whirled, grabbed Bek’s gun with the skill a common man shouldn’t have, and pointed it at the mercenary. Instantly, two other guards pulled out their guns and pointed at Marc, Layla, and (Y/N), ready at any instant to shoot any of them.

            “Marc. Don’t,” said Layla, glancing at the guards warily.

            “Shit.” Marc looked between Layla, (Y/N), and the guns trained on them.

            “Marc…” said (Y/N), swallowing, unsure.

            Marc’s eyes met theirs, and he let his grip on the gun loosen, handing it back to Bek and holding his hands up.

            They were trapped.

Taglist:

@jaytheaceenby

@severussimp

@dmitrytherat

@slytherinroyalty16

@grippleback-galaxy

@alexpangender

@thewittyfanficreader

@aew-kun-age-regression

@oscarissac2099

@amberforest08

@kyalov

@yyourmotherr

@im-making-an-effort

@the-toskaverse

@wra-1-th

[galaxynajma]

How different Isagi ships would react to Isagi’s birthday

For isagi’s birthday I wanna do something silly and write some headcanons on how different some Yoichi ships would do to celebrate his birthday!

This was gonna have more than three ships originally but I didn’t have any ideas for them 😔 and didn’t want them to all feel similar

All of these will be short and hopefully sweet

Bachisagi:

Bachira is overjoyed by the fact that its his favorite person’s birthday today

He has the day planned out already . They’ll go to the park after eating breakfast. Walk around enjoy the scenery and then they enjoy a big picnic with Isagi’s cake ( that Bachira baked himself) for dessert!

there’s only one problem…. How will he wake Isagi up?

Bachira can’t be his normally loud self when waking Isagi up he has to do something special for his birthday!

After 5 minutes of Bachira just standing there staring at Isagi sleeping he finally wakes up on his own

Bachira panics a little and then immediately jumps Isagi . Downing the birthday boy with kisses and hugs

Isagi can’t think of a better way to start his morning than being bombarded by kisses from his happy little bumblebee 

Kaisagi:

Isagi woke up feeling a little refreshed and a little happy with the fact that it’s his birthday

But his mood immediately gets ruined when the first thing he sees when waking up is Kaiser in all his naked glory

" happy birthday Yoichi " Kaiser says in a sinfully tone with a stupid smile on his face

" Oh don’t look so pissed off already you know how much some people would pay to see the Michael Kaiser naked on their birthday? " the only thing Kaiser gets from Isagi as a reply is a side eye . Trying his best to keep his eyes at Kaiser’s face

" whatever. Today is all about you! Which is why I’m gonna take you out to spoil you <3 "Kaiser says with a big smile on his face… god Isagi wants to punch him so bad… with his lips

"Let’s get this over with " Isagi said trying to act more annoyed than he actually is

Isagi would be lying if he said he isn’t a little interested on what Kaiser has planned for them today

" what? Are we not gonna have some fun first " Kaiser teased adding a wink to make it worse

‘God I hate love him so much ‘

Isagi thought as he thrown the nearest pillow at Kaiser’s face

…

True to his word Kaiser does spoil him with going to the mall first thing and immediately going to the luxury brands stores in the mall

Getting shorts that are too short shirts that are too tight

the best part has yet to come

At some point they were in a fancy Japanese restaurant eating dinner when Kaiser suddenly pulled out a small red box from out of nowhere

" here’s your real birthday present Yoichi "

Isagi took the tiny box from Kaiser’s hand and opened it with a skeptical look on his face 

When he opened Isagi let out a little gasp at what the box contains 

Inside was a gold chained necklace with a beautiful blue rose at the end

" now we can match " Kaiser interrupted isagi’s thoughts as he looks at the necklace in awe

" since when were you so cheesy Micha" Isagi said with a smirk as he holds the jewel up to his neck

" oh shut up you clown you’re lucky it’s your birthday "

Isaness:

" are the pancakes up to your liking Yoichi?" Ness asked with his head slightly tilted " it’s the first time I’ve tried this recipe"

" hm what? " Isagi mumbled . He cant focus on anything with the piece of heaven in his mouth that is in the form of sweet warm pancakes 

" I asked if you liked your birthday pancakes " Ness giggled a little after saying that

" oh! They’re great! More than great they’re the best pancakes I’ve ever eaten in my whole life! Thanks Lex " Isagi’s voice still a little mumbled with his mouth full

Ness giggle a little more after hearing that . Happy to hear that his little Yoichi is enjoying his breakfast

" got any ideas of what to do on your birthday Yoichi?"Ness smiled with hearts in his eyes as he watched the love of his life absolutely devour his pancakes with no mercy  

‘ it’s crazy to think that two years ago I wanted to skin him alive ‘ Ness thought as Isagi downed the last of his orange drink

" OH! Well I actually don’t know .. " Isagi replied as he circled his finger around the rim of his cup

Well we can do anything you want today. I’m at your service " Ness said as he grabbed some napkins to wip Isagi’s face with 

" Lex stop " Isagi protested against Ness’s napkin assault on his face while giggling " honestly… you being here is enough already "

" OH" Ness’s eyes widened. He wasn’t expecting that response " re- really? "

" Yeah … Alexis you being with me is all that I could ever need . You don’t have to do something luxurious be in my service for my birthday. You’re all that i could ever ask for "

Ness was speechless. He was expecting for Isagi to say he wanted to go to an aquarium or a fancy dinner… not this … oh god he’s almost as red as the strawberries that were on Isagi’s plate

" actually.. " Isagi suddenly said making Ness’s thoughts pause " We could watch My Neighbor Totoro together. That’s what my parents did for me on my birthday

" of- of course! Anything for you Yoichi " Ness exclaimed

" Thanks Lex .. I love you "

" Love you too happy birthday Yoichi "

[cocogum]

My honest reactions of episodes 5 and 6 (part 2)

PART 1 : HERE

(‼️ SEASON 4 SPOILERS ‼️)

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Okay I just HAD to devote the full Alibert inn scene from episode 5 here CUZ WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT YUGO GOING BACK TO EMELKA!! I know I already mentioned Chibi and Grougal (as well as the tree Tofu tower) in part 1 but part 2 will basically be about all the rest of the inn scene cuz tumblr couldn’t let me have more than ten images per post (I know the site apparently lets u have more but I always use the phone for it so shush.)

But first, we finally get to see Alibert again after all those years 💕

Alibert. Sweetie. Baby. You can take care of two (technically four) kids with the addition of a freaking INN, you COOK for the customers, AND, ON TOP OF ALL THAT, you’re the MAYOR of EMELKA, that same place where you run the inn and take care of your adopted sons.

You do much more than just “taking care of an inn”, you got three jobs AND you’re still sane. You’re three in one, a whole package, props to you king. He’s such a boss ass man I love him 💕💕

NAH MAN

Not these ppl trying to avoid the inflation 😭😭 I don’t blame them tho. I would’ve said the same thing lol.

(Also is the wine a call back to Gustavio? Plz it would be so funny if the reason why Alibert is angry is cuz these ppl are saying how “bad” it is just so the prices can stay the same but also because he’s mad that they’re calling Gustavio’s wine “disgusting” even if they were all just trying to make him not raise the prices!)

Love how Yugo doesn’t say that same shit to Ruel after all those years of cooking for his ass and never getting anything from him.

Like even the whole Brotherhood calls Ruel a “cheapskate” but the only time where we see Yugo say that same shit is when he says that to his own CUSTOMERS?!?

Gurl bye Yugo’s such a silly little hypocrite!! 😭😭

OMG THE WHOLE FAMILY’S BACK TOGETHER!!

Adamaï get your stupid lizard ass over here.

It’s been so long since I’ve seen these two just laughing and hugging like this 💕💕💕

Also, Ankama tried being very slick with Az and his wife.

Nah cuz how can you not see these two and not think about Yugo and Amalia?? Does the thought never come to mind or what??

They literally give off the same energy, how did no one say anything before???!!?

THESE LITTLE TOFUS ARE OBVIOUSLY A SILLY PARALLEL TO THESE TWO AND NO ONE CAN TELL ME OTHERWISE.

Okay now the next part of the Alibert inn scene is very important to me so listen.

Recently, I came scrolling on @moths-are-better’s recent posts about Yugo and I came up on the one where he drinks the “milk” that was in the cup in the scene below.

But like-

@moths-are-better STOP LYING TO YOURSELF THIS IS CLEARLY WINE!!!

Look at all the other people drinking in the inn before they left: they all had that same kind of cup, insinuating that they were drinking wine (and also cuz they confirmed it was wine while trying to avoid any possible future inflations with Alibert).

I just love how Ankama deliberately shows us small scenes like this to remind us that Yugo can do adult things even though he looks like a kid. Because THIS is one of those scenes! Just look at how Alibert quietly pulls the cup of wine away from Yugo as soon as the guy starts ranting about his problems.

That’s clearly not milk lol I just love your delusions @moths-are-better 💕💕

But not only did this scene made me realize that nothing can stop Yugo from doing adult things despite how he looks, it also helped me realize that Yugo is the type to only drink when he’s having problems. We clearly see him about to drink more while ranting to Alibert before he carefully pulls the wine away from Yugo cuz he KNOWS Yugo would drink more just for that.

That level of attention to detail is amazing and I’m so glad I managed to catch up to the hints early on.

Alibert be looking like Yugo’s bartender AND therapist in just that moment alone lol

Ngl I would’ve loved to see a drunk Yugo if he had been able to drink more before Alibert intervened.

‼️ EVERYONE ‼️

👏 BE👏 LIKE 👏 ALIBERT 👏 ❤️❤️

This is making me wanna have kids too man….

His caring and calming attitude towards Yugo and the way he just treats him, cares for him, and acts like a responsible parent during all these years really makes me wanna do the same thing someday. Alibert is so good at his job(s) that he’s even beating a freaking goddess. Let that sink in. (actually any good parent like Alibert would beat the Eliatrope goddess’ parenting easily lol)

Alibert is genuinely so sweet, patient, thoughtful, and understanding of Yugo. Like even though he just heard Yugo say he finally found his true family, Alibert doesn’t take his words as insults and would rather just let him spill out all of his words to him.

When I said I missed these two like this, I really meant it. This inn is not only where Yugo was raised in but it’s also Yugo’s comfort place.

My ass knows this is foreshadowing.

It just knows.

Older Yugo where u at? We need to talk.

Ankama’s gonna ruin this family and laugh about it while eating some croissants.

[harmonictechnicality]

This has got to be a mistake. There is no way on this spherical floating rock of fucked-uppery that this is the right hotel room.

Rose petals. Champagne bottles in a glass bucket. A silver tray of chocolate covered strawberries. A goddamn hot tub in the center of the room??

Mistake. Total mistake. The highest of errors.

See, Eddie is just tagging along with Steve on his monthly trips to visit Henderson at his big-brained university. And since Eddie has earned himself an appalling (yet valid) reputation of being flaky as dandruff, Steve was in charge of all the travel arrangements. Gas, schedule, hotel room.

This isn’t a hotel room. This a fucking honeymoon suite.

“The concierge said this was the only room left.” Steve tells him, plopping his duffel bag onto the heart-shaped bed. Which… fuck, really? Those exist outside of soft-core pornos?

“Sure. Okay.” Eddie spots candles on the balcony. Their balcony. Holy… “But why is all of this romantic shit here? Cause I’m sure as hell not paying for any of it.”

Eddie is barely paying for anything to begin with. He bought the snacks at the first gas station stop and has conveniently forgotten to pitch in ever since.

Steve shrugs. “It just… comes with the room, apparently.”

Eddie really wishes Steve had not put emphasis on that specific word. Knowing his hyperactive imagination, he won’t be able to un-hear that phrase for the entire duration of their trip. Awesome.

See, none of this would’ve been a problem two months ago. Up until then, Eddie never thought about inflicting red-rope marks around Steve’s wrists or how salivating it must sound to have his own name leaving Steve’s mouth while it’s stuffed with silk. No. Before two months ago, Eddie had Very Normal thoughts about Steve Harrington.

But since that day - the day Steve insisted on helping Eddie reapply his new eyebrow piercing, Eddie’s normal thoughts have been fucking poisonedwith vulgarity. 

It was everything whipped into one moment. The close proximity, the chemical-high off the sanitation wipes, the wetness of Steve’s fingers on him, the slight pinch of the metal threading through Eddie’s skin. 

As soon as Steve inserted the thin barbell, Eddie audibly gasped, swore quietly, had to play it off like the insertion hurt or whatever - just so Steve wouldn’t freak the fuck out. It proved to be an ineffective attempt at coolness, obviously Steve knew what he was doing. Has been an absolute tease about it ever since too. Flirty comments with Eddie when no one is around or making subtle touches whenever Eddie is close enough to get away with that sort of thing.

And look, Eddie would happily encourage all of that. He’d get Steve out of that stupid little polo and kiss every muscle on his torso if he thought that’s what Steve really wanted. There’s just no damn way that they are into the same stuff, physically.

Steve is probably nuts about fluffy-pink sex. All wispy touches and muffled moans under the covers. And Eddie doesn’t do that shit. Eddie wants bruising kisses and sensual demands. He wants to dissect all the vanilla parts of Steve and replace them with black magic and velvet.

That. That is why this room, these things, that person, is making this all of this very dangerous for Eddie.

“You okay, man?” Steve asks.

“Yeah.” Liar.

“You’ve been staring at the desk lamp for like, five minutes.”

“Just speculating as to where the interior designer may have found a dark red lightbulb.” Which, yeah. Why is it red? Is red the horniest color? Eddie bets if Steve is lying beneath red lighting, it’ll look like his whole body is flushed, overheated from whatever Eddie is doing to him.

Fuck. This is bad. This is so very bad.

And yet, Steve is so unfazed. So casual. He’s eating the gummies off the snack bar like they’re not shaped like dicks. He’s turning on the stereo as if it’s not only looping through steamy saxophone solos. Why is none of this affecting him like it’s affecting Eddie? Is passion and desire so deeply woven into his Harrington DNA that this stuff is just a typical Tuesday for him? Ugh, Eddie is making his own head spin. 

“So…” Eddie sways side to side. “None of this is weird to you?”

“What do you mean?”

What does he mean? What fucking gives? “Uh - there’s a bowl of flavored rubbers sitting next to your hand, dude. How are you so chill about this?”

Steve clinks his nail over the condom bowl. “It’s just stuff. No biggie.”

“Just stuff? It’s like a romance novel threw up in this place.”

“Yeah, but..” Steve counters, sounds irritated. “It’s only romantic if you’re with someone and wanna… get it on.”

Eddie scoffs. “Get it on? What - suddenly, you can’t just say fuck?”

“You’re so annoying.” Steve rolls his eyes, tosses another dick gummy into his mouth. “These are all just things. It’s all about your mindset.”

“I disagree.” Eddie states. “I think anyone with an active libido would wanna fuck all over this sex-trap.”

“Booby-trap.”

“Nice one.” Eddie gives Steve a high-five. Unironically.

“Still…” Steve turns the volume dial down on the stereo. “I think you’re wrong.”

“I think you’re wrong.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Steve’s arms fold into his chest, taking a step towards Eddie. “Then prove your point. Convince me otherwise.”

Eddie should back down. He should wrap a leash around all of his sick thoughts and chain them up somewhere far away. He should not say what he’s about to say. He shouldn’t.

“How about we make a bet?” Big yikes. Wrong move.

“What kind of bet, Munson?”

“I bet you twenty bucks that I can change your mind. If we can use up all of these so-called ‘regular items,’ without you feeling a twinge of romance, then you win.”

Steve doesn’t respond, so Eddie keeps talking. Can’t shut up anymore.

“But if you so much as blush during any of it, then I win.”

Steve opens his mouth, shuts it. He raises an eyebrow and tries again. “When you say regular items, that excludes the condom bowl, right?” 

“What ever do you mean?” Eddie gives a sneaky grin, no restraining his dirty plan now. “You’re not interested in making balloon animals this evening?”

Steve huffs, plops down into a nearby chair. “So weird.”

“Do we have a deal or not, Harrington?” 

This is so dumb. Eddie can tell just how dumb it is by the puzzled expression on Steve’s face. But here he is, making bets like he’s still in fucking high school, trying to swindle beefy jocks out of their cushy-privileged allowance money.

However, it appears that Steve is just as dumb as Eddie is.

“Make it forty bucks.” Steve offers a hand out to him. 

Eddie accepts it, gives the firmest handshake. “You're on.”

So much for this being a normal evening.

*the rest is on ao3 :) here's the link*

[communistkenobi]

what are some of your favorite nonfiction podcasts?

the big one I recommend is just king things - two marxist academics go through the books of Stephen King in publication order. extremely funny and insightful podcast, very accessible (like this is not a theory podcast or anything, it’s very laid back and casual), and I really appreciate their approach to literary criticism.

game studies study buddies is by the same hosts as just king things but this is a theory podcast. Each episode they go over and discuss a book from the field of game studies (ie the academic study of games). I very much recommend you listen to this if you want to like passively absorb critical/leftist theory. The hosts are academics, one of which teaches about games regularly as a professor, so it kind of feels like someone is teaching you about a text. I find it fairly accessible, I learn a lot about games, and as I said they very frequently structure their discussions with left wing theory. I find them very insightful!

blowback is very good, it’s about the imperial history of the United States. a history/journalist type podcast. this can get extremely heavy and difficult to listen to given the subject matter so I would not binge this (I usually listen to it when I’m doing a physical activity) but it’s a really good source of historical information and has helped me develop my political understanding of modern western imperial history. each season covers a different event: S1 is the invasion of Iraq, S2 is the Cuban Revolution, S3 is the Korean War, S4 is the invasion of Afghanistan

ALAB (all lawyers are bad) is good with some caveats. It’s a podcast by a bunch of lawyers who spend a lot of time on twitter discussing how horrible lawyers are, usually either focusing on specific high-profile lawyers (Kavanaugh, Dershowitz), specific american legal regimes (anti-BDS legislation, sanction law, etc), or specific trends in the legal system that causes structural problems (eg lifetime judgeship appointments with no mandatory retirement age). They also sometimes do random funny lawsuits or cover legal responses to events like Jan 6th. A mixed bag in terms of focus but mostly it’s hating on American law and the legal system. This is a critical recommendation because it’s a bunch of lawyers dudes riffing and some of their analysis can be stupid/bad, they say stupid shit that comes off as “anti identity politics” at times, etc. I’m pulling from memory because it’s been a while since I listened to them so I’m sorry if this is overly vague/general. The best way to describe it is chapo-adjacent if that means anything to you lol

and finally the podcast knowledge fight. this is a podcast dedicated to covering and debunking Alex Jones. in all honesty I don’t find this podcast super valuable in terms of analysis, like they are only really focused on debunking the claims Jones makes and explaining why they’re factually wrong. Which like that’s a good thing to do, I’m not saying its bad, but I don’t really need to be convinced Jones is lying about everything lol so I don’t personally find it super useful/insightful. If you have to interact with Alex Jones fans regularly (like family members) then maybe that will be more valuable for you! Totally depends. however the reason I bring them up is because I DO recommend the series of episodes they have titled formulaic objections - in this series they go through all the deposition material from the sandy hook lawsuit against Alex Jones (the one that cost him a billion dollars in damages and court sanctions lol). They play clips of the depositions throughout these episodes, which are so fucking insane to listen to. Like listening to a bunch of employees of an insane fringe right wing media organisation being questioned by lawyers for hours on end is so entertaining lmao. This lawsuit is about the sandy hook school shooting so a warning about the subject matter, it can get dark at times, but on the whole it’s extremely fucking funny to listen to. And the hosts provide a lot of context for what’s going on in the lawsuit, talk about it, and also they debunk the shit Jones lies about in court that you may not know about, so I find that part of it really good.

[confused-rat]

So Lily Orchard really did just lie her ass off, with the two people she was talking about coming forward and saying, “Yeah, bitch is crazy. IDK what she’s on about.”

And thus, she now has two options: She can delete the bullshit posts she made about her lies, hoping people will forget them, or plant her feet and continue trying to drag Josh in a desperate attempt at making someone else suffer. The problem with option one is that people spent a whole DAY talking about how Lily was full of shit, taking screenshots of her posts and calling her out as the liar she is. If she deletes those posts, it’s not going to fucking anything, leaving her with no choice but to go with option two. And even then…what’s the plan there? Unlike Lily, Josh and InkRose use this little thing called LOGIC. They dismiss the lie entirely and point out how obviously pathetic Lily is acting. In the off chance that they are lying, they’re a lot more convincing than Lily, because why would someone be so nonchalant about her “silliness” (to put it gently) when Lily could fight with her last breath to bring out the “truth?” It’s almost as if Lily based her entire plan on Josh and InkRose acting rattled or irrationally angry, giving her the tiniest bit of a chance to prove herself. Or that they’d never find out about her “allegations,” bagging on the fact that they stopped caring enough about Lily to respond, which is stupid for a number of reasons. Only—Surprise, surprise—it didn’t work out.

Honestly? As far as I’m concerned? Lily’s done. She pulled some bullshit lie right out of her ass in an obviously desperate attempt at getting herself out of the spotlight only to have it further cemented over her as NO ONE bought the act. Her fans might, but now that Josh and InkRose have both responded and revealed Lily as the liar she is, there’s nothing that Lily can do that won’t seem even more desperate, losing all credibility she had left in the process. Because if she lied about that, what else could she have lied about…?

Late to answering because she has deleted the posts. 🤣

Which kind of ruins her integrity more, because why would she delete those accusations if they were true?

[my-darling-inej]

may i present: my favourite wesper moments

wylan yelling out “don‘t!” when jesper deals in his guns while gambling with smeet, almost blowing his cover as a waiter

after genya changes wylan’s face back: “Did you have her make you better-looking?” Wylan pinked. “Maybe you forgot how handsome I am.”

wylan worrying about jesper after they’re attacked on black veil: Would Jesper be waiting when they finally got wherever they were going? Or was he lying wounded and bleeding on the floor of the tomb with no one to come to his aid? Wylan refused to believe it. [...] Jesper had to survive. (helpppp i’m crying)

jesper flirting no.1: “Things are always more interesting in the dark.”

Wylan’s first thought was that this boy had the most perfectly shaped lips he’d ever seen. (hello???)

colm’s instant approval of wylan: “That‘s why he likes you. I know, I know - it’s none of my business, and I have no idea if he’d be good for you. Probably bring you ten kinds of headache. But I think you’d be good for him.”

“Maybe I liked your stupid face.” (no need to elaborate on that one)

jesper flirting no.2: “It’s brilliant.” Jesper winked. “Just like you.”

this scene in the hotel: All Wylan wanted to do was stand as close as he possibly could to him and know that he was safe. (again, i’m crying)

jesper being the absolute best support for wylan while they are visiting his mother. “Wy, listen to me. You have to pull yourself together.  Can you do this? We can leave. I can tell her you’re not up to it, or I can just go in myself. We can try to come back some-”

the fact that jesper was being super grumpy during their journey back from fjerda because wylan was “hiding out” when he literally was standing next to him the whole time

the whole first kiss scene. peak romance. and ending with:“Wylan,” Jesper said, looking into the wide blue sky of his eyes, “I really hope we don’t die.”

jesper being super angry when he finds out the reason why wylan’s father kicked him out (“He’s your son!”)

jesper flirting no.3: “Thought of me? Late at night? What was I wearing?”

wylan being the one to jump in and lie for jesper so colm doesn’t find out about his gambling problem: “It was my fault,” Wylan blurted.

”You were pretty amazing back there, by the way.” (awww <3)

[amononymous]

Silence Patch

During the mission, [reader] is wounded.  Their partner, Hank, tries his best to heal them.

Hank x Reader

tw// Wounds, violence. 

Another day.  Another mission.  As heard by the ear-shattering sounds of the gunshots fired by the agents.  Bullets pass through.  Hank swiftly dodges every bit of them while sprinting.  Letting his katana penetrate one agent.  Then slashing one after another.

You’re behind Hank watching the performance unfold.  Resisting all the urges not to show how amazed you are.   This is Hank they’re seeing in action after all.  Seeing him fight… how would that not be amazing?!

The blood dances in the air as you watch.  Your eyes try to retain focus on Hank’s ability and for any other surviving agent you can shoot down.  

Before you knew it, Hank cleared all enemies in this very room.  The room consists of iron odor, causing you to crinkle your nose.

“Alright, let’s move.” The airy, deep voicesnaps you back to reality.  Hank is glaring at you, waiting for an answer.

“Right… Gotta stay focused,”  you nodded.  “I really gotta stop making you do all the killing though.”

Hank stops dead on his track as his attention pans to what you said.  “Elaborate?” 

“Well… we’re paired together for this raid after all.  Would suck if you did all the killing while I just watched.”

Hank remains silent.  Perhaps trying to process what you’re trying to say.

“What I mean is that, I’m your partner right? So why not make me feel like one?”

“[Reader], I get it,” Hank interrupted.  “I’m not stupid.”

“Oh?”  [Reader] took a pause.  “Well, do I get to be in action now?”

“You can.  The agents are all mine if you fail to take them down swiftly.”

“But you always kill them so fast?!”

“Not my problem.”

Without batting an eye.  Hank hears a light clinking noise on the ground.  Before glancing at the source.

“A flashbang?!” Hank immediately closes his eyes upon noticing it.

“Wait what-” you bat your eyes in response to this.  Next thing you know, the loud sound caused you to shut your eyes and cover your ears.  The ringing noise produced from the flashbang was all you could hear.  Your eyes are teary as you try to wipe off the numbing blindness.

Afterimages.  That was all you could see.

What followed was muffled sounds of gunshots.  The weird feeling on your cheek starts to irritate you.  

It’s like you’re in a big room.  Your legs don’t know where to step and all you could hear were constant noises.  Like balloons popping on the other side of the room.

Where are you?  Which way did you come from?  Where’s the sound coming from?

Few seconds later.  Your eyelids open up slowly when all the sounds die down.  Your eyes focus on the first thing they meet.  Hank.

Placing his palm on his forehead.  He investigates the whole room for any other hidden ambush lying beyond the door.  Seems like the room is thoroughly dyed with more crimson and aureolin yellow.

“Didn’t see it coming did you?”  Hank taunted.  “Really should’ve watched yourself.  You were one step away to The Other Place.”

“How would I have seen that?!” You growled.  “And you know how fast these things set off!”

“Doesn’t matter, get going.”  Hank then took a pause after finally taking one good look at you, before pointing at his own cheek.  “Something’s on your face.”

Hank then urgently walks up to you and starts glaring something at your left cheek.

Before you realized it.  You felt this stinging pain continuously irritating you as you felt your cheek.  The moist feeling was enough to alert you.  Seeing the streak of red on your fingers was the next reason why.

“How did this happen!?”  You gasped, letting your fingers rub against the fresh wound.  “Ugh, no wonder it was bugging me.”

“Who knows?  Perhaps from the ambush?”  Hank said. 

“Ow ow! Now it’s starting to hurt more now!”  You sighed.  “Great, as if this couldn’t get any worse.”

As you grumbled trying to hide the wounds from plain sight.  Your eyes widened as you felt this aggressive grip on your wrist.  Hank was eager to observe the cut resting on your face.

Few seconds pass by.  Nothing but silence.  Your heart could jump out any time with the tension lingering in the air. 

Finally letting go of your wrist.  Your eyes start fixating on Hank as he rummages the inside of his coat, soon displaying a medkit.

“Huh?”  you acknowledged.  “You carry those around?”

Hank remains silent as you hear tools being put out and hit the ground.  The clinkling sounds echoed in this desolate room.

“Stay still.” Hank directed.  

Confused, you closed your eyes letting your body relax as Hank slowly inches closer at you.  Your ears pick up Hank’s breathing.  It was steady, muffled and tickles you a bit.  

Trying your best not to move a muscle, you try to scrounge for some self control.  Breathing fully to try and calm yourself.  

But then again, the situation at hand makes it hard not to break character.

Hank lets the cotton ball soak in a few drops of rubbing alcohol.  Before extending his arm to let the cotton ball interact against the wound.  To which you flinch in response.  

“Ahh! Didn’t mean to flinch there!”  You gasped.

You glance at Hank. Nervousness streaks your body as Hank remains silent.

After a couple of breaths, you close your eyes again, letting Hank resume his process.

The stinging feeling of the rubbing alcohol causes your body to tense up.  You can feel some of the liquid content dripping down your face.  Not only that, but Hank’s glove is tickling you a little bit.  You feel the plastic-like, waxy surface rubbing your chin in a circular motion.  You felt the same rubbery feeling rub against your cheek, wiping off any excess liquid given off the cotton ball.

All you can feel and hear is your own heartbeat.  Each beat can only go faster as time passes on.   Your heart could really jump out any second.

All of this is giving you a sense of deja vu.

The sense of the past.  Sitting up, you were on the medical bed looking around for anything that piques your interest.

While stable, the room was muted.  All you can hear as of now is your breathing.  Letting the chemical odor linger inside your nostril as the minutes go by.

Eventually, the footsteps echo in the medical room.  Shifting your attention to the distinct sound, your eyes locked onto Doc.

The burning sensation, the little drop of rubbing alcohol running down your skin.  Gritting your teeth, all you could do is do what was instructed by Doc.  “Don’t move.”

A moment of peace but also a bit of tension as you let Doc disinfect your wound.

“That feeling…  Did Hank learn this from Doc?”

You don’t doubt that thought.  As you can recognize some of the techniques Hank is putting into treating you.  All you can defer from the both is their preciscions.  Hank is a bit more improper in handling this than Doc.  You can tell he has less experience in doing so.  

Strangely… you feel at peace.  After the initial bloodshed brewing earlier, all that’s leftover is the peaceful atmosphere persisting within you.  It’s like relaxing at a beachside.  Watching the sunset while the breeze softly brushes you.

All within that moment, you can tell Hank’s putting in some care.  His rough fingers brush against your cheek as he puts the bandage on, finally covering up your cut.

Steadily you open your eyes and see Hank tilt his head.  His eyes focused on the bandage as his thumb pressed against the corner, ensuring it was airtight. 

“There.  Should be good,”  Hank stood up, extending his arms to stretch his muscles.

Frozen for a second, you feel the bandage.  Content grows within you as your eyes widen over the gesture Hank did.  Your heart warms up.  Still a bit surprised over this but contented as you felt like you won something in life. 

“A-ah… thanks!”  you extolled.  “I’m already feeling better by the second!”

“Good.” Hank glances at you, checking you up and down for anything else he should look out for, before looking back at you.  “Let’s go.”

“As straightforward as ever.”  You sighed.  “Well, you’re right.  Let’s go.”

You let Hank take the initiative as you walk behind him.  Looking around to make sure the same thing doesn’t happen again.  

“Make sure it doesn’t happen again.”  Hank continues to walk without batting an eye on you.

“Huh?”  it took you seconds to process what he said.  “Umm… don’t worry.  I’ll be careful.”

“Good.”  Hank said. 

Both of you kept walking, readying your weapons for any danger that lies ahead.

You already wished the tranquil moment with you and Hank lasted longer.

But oh well, maybe at least seeing that side of Hank was enough to fill you with delight.

[rgr-pop]

we had literally just had a user services meeting where my supervisor said the library decided not to put any high time sensitive stacks project on the agenda for the summer. she was like please use your vacation time!

the next monday at 3pm our director read our meeting notes, became mad, and decided unilaterally to assign us (just me and my supervisor plus my students if i have them) to shift the whole general collection by august starting now. more or less out or nowhere (i spent last summer and fall outliningwhat we’d need to do and getting trained up while i was creating a whole oversize collection from scratch but was told up til a few weeks ago that it wouldn’t go on the calendar—primarily because we don’t have the staff.)

we asked for the plan and he said “shifting ldoesn’t need a plan. just move the books. distribute the evenly across the shelves with each shelf at 60-75% fill capacity.” (WHICH and okay math?)

please if you’ve ever planned or participated in a collection shift chime in. not sure i can possibly explain how deranged this is

fun fact TS isn’t sure how many volumes are in our collection due to not being inventoried in about a decade. the director didn’t have a sense within 10,000 of how many books he was asking us to move even if a shift was just moving books from one location to another (it’s not). we were gonna focus on missing and inventory over the summer (fun fact we have a missing list about SEVEN PERCENT OF THE COLLECTION!!!) it’s good practice to always measure the materials on the shelf for a shift but it’s essential when you don’t have a well maintained collection— the other way we would make the estimation of how to distribute a collection evenly would be to use a formula estimating volumes per linear inch in various collection types. but again we have a 7% missing collection lmao

so over the past two and a half workdays i’ve been working a 10 page project plan all by myself — planning stacks projects is not my job. i’m still a clerk with some extra technical duties on paper. i make about 24k in a year working part time. the people doing this task at msu make 2-3 times what i make. there are two administrators above me, one who is lying about the work itself and being insane (also the worst at his job or anyone alive), the other doesn’t know how to do any of this. and she’s dedicated herself to getting caught up and this makes me feel a million times better but in theory on principle i should not do this (he will make me “move the books” regardless sooo)

we have this thing in my unit called responsibility dollars you can apply for to get a small bonus for a project outside your job description. if i was full time i would be eligible for an extra $3.25 or so, but as part time i can only get $1.20. so onward requesting my $33 per week summer stipend.. my director might block admin from approving it because he doesn’t believe a plan is required. i should just move the books! (google how to plan a library shift if you’re interested in my work)

anyway the problem is that i really enjoy doing this and would love to do a good job at it. it’s not happening in august lol be real. what rows this man want us speed shelving for. TO WHAT END?? WHY?? i will see this through and start applying to archives jobs—the real core of the “thrown into the most chaotic situation imaginable and plan a lil system” field—it’s what i’m good at and i’m putting this stupid shit in my portfolio. all i actually want is to not have my work openly disrespected by a man who wants the library to literally crumble because he hates queer people so much ! he still by the way refuses to speak directly to me or read anything i produce 🤷‍♀️

my supervisor texted me this morning at 11 am asking me if i was at work (i was in the staff kitchen and didn’t see it til hours later bc i was AT WORK not ON MY PHONE and she didn’t use work communication) so now i’m paranoid that they’re watching my time, which is insane bc i’m so much more productive… he tried this last year too around the incident. challenged some hours i worked out of nowhere and said he didn’t remember me being here and i was like ok there’s nothing i can do to demonstrate that?? so i had to take hours i worked off my timecard. to my knowledge no one else but me is required to do time tracking or has had their time challenged —only Me who accused him of homophobic retaliation and got disciplined for it and can now get fired for any reaaaason :’) so anyway i worked til 11 pm monday and i will be here til 8 every night the rest of the week due to paranoia

[monstersinthecosmos]

September 3, 1973

Even now, two years since he’s left his parents house, he still thinks about his dad every time he grabs a newspaper.

It was like a challenge to him every day to get through the whole thing. Starting on the 5:30am train to the city in the morning, and he’d chisel away it all day, in between meetings, on his lunch break, the train ride home. If there were a few pages left at the end he’d sit at the empty dinner table after it was cleared, while Daniel’s mother cleaned up. 

And the way he’d pick at the crossword all day, and sometimes humored Daniel by asking for help at the end. He missed some of the pop culture questions and acted like it was the only thing Daniel was useful for. 

He kept lecturing Daniel that he should read the paper, never really acknowledging that he wasn’t done with it until well into the evening. Daniel would read yesterday’s paper sometimes, if it was still lying around. His dad always wanted to read about politics and the war. Daniel searched all the forgotten corners for the weird stuff.

Like today.

He doesn’t get the paper every day. His dad is too old fashioned to know that people can get news from the radio, too. Daniel always listens in the morning, and gets enough of it at the station when he stops by. But he was out of cigarettes this morning and took a walk down to the corner store. Cigarettes and a coffee and the Chronicle was right there at the register.

What’s going on in the world, Dad? he would ask sometimes. Snarky teenager asking a rhetorical question, and his dad would never actually answer. All that bullshit about needing to know what’s happening and he never actually shared. 

Well. Daniel thinks he knows more about the world than most people. He goes out, he talks to people. Incredible how few of them have space for anyone or anything else. 

His eyes scan the front page, naturally seeing the largest headlines first. Giants Win 2; L.A. Loses. The World of Wiretaps. Dramatic Rescue in the Bay.

He sips at his coffee, a little too hot still. He misses his mom’s coffee. 

3 Union Chiefs Vs. Brennan on Economic Policy. New Arrest in Ingleside Cop Slaying. 

The stupid thing is that he’s fine. He’s been fine. He likes his life out here. Coming out west was the best decision he’d made, and he never once felt unsure or homesick or out of place. 

Danish Hotel Holocaust—A Suspect.

And he hasn’t even cared that his dad got mad at him for dropping out. Moving away had released him from worrying about things like that. Gave him the space and perspective to be his own person, to stop worrying what his dad thought. 

I’m not you, he thinks, staring down at the newsprint. He wonders what his dad’s front page looks like today. Labor Day, so he’ll be reading it at home. And his mom will be so tense all day, like she always is when he has a day off, like he sucks all the air from the room.

The index of the paper reads: Comics - 46, Deaths - 29, Entertainment - 36. He hears his mom’s voice in his head again, like the phone call burned it there. Long distance distortion and everything. 

Daniel looks for the smaller print, the weirder stories.

A man claimed to be the oldest human in the world—at age 168—died in the Soviet Union. Page 2.

He makes a mental note to figure out the oldest person in the Bay Area; maybe they’re still sharp enough for an interview.

It’s just that he felt like he was cut loose, like he could be himself now. And he’s fine with it, really and truly fine. Not a person who mopes about it, who wishes his parents were better, who worries about things like this. He doesn’t define himself by it. But she calls him and sounds so sad and it resets the clock. He wonders if he can be his own person without destroying them, and if it’s his problem if they’re destroyed, and if he should feel like a bad son. 

He’s interviewed so many people by now with shady families. Even the guy yesterday. Charlie. Daniel didn’t get all the details but he just wonders how many times they wrote him off, refused to help him. It’s not entirely the same, but Daniel wonders if all families just fall apart when people can’t care anymore, whatever the reason. 

Snake Charmer’s Last Performance, Kuala Lumpur. 

Daniel sets his coffee down, lifts the paper closer to his face. His lips move as he reads over the blurb, the words mumbling out of him.

“One of the highlights of 52-year-old Snake charmer Mohamed Desa Abdullah’s act was to place the head of a king cobra in his mouth. It bit him under the tongue yesterday and he died 30 minutes later.”

Daniel lays the paper on the coffee table. Lights a cigarette. Brushes a strand of hair out of his eyes. 

“Sucks, man,” he says softly. 

[previous day] | [next day]

[lenniharrisonsims]

Behind The Scenes...

Omiscan Villa, Selvadorada, 9:26pm

Gio: Lady Itzel, good evening!

Itzel: (looks around for evesdroppers) I thought I told you just Itzel was fine, My Lord.

Gio: Well if I’m going to call you Itzel, then please, just call me Gio.

Itzel: Alright, Gio. What are you doing up here?

Gio: Looking for you actually. (looks around, checking again for listeners) I was able to see your parents.

Itzel: Really?! How are they? Are they okay? What’d they say?

Gio: They’re fine. They have more guards watching their manor than the ordinary townsfolk, but they’re unharmed, and living relatively normally. Your brother seems like a firecracker though.

Itzel: (chuckles) Micos has always had problems with authority, even when that authority was just our parents. I hope my parents are able to keep him from doing something stupid…

Gio: I talked with them about that, I said things were moving behind the scenes, and that any drastic rebellion might put those plans into jeopardy. 

Itzel: Let me guess, that didn’t go over well?

Gio: He definitely thought I was lying about being on your side. (laughs) But I think your parents have brought him around, or at least, calmed him down.

Itzel: … Thank you, Gio. It means so much to me to hear that they’re okay. I can’t thank you enough for that. 

Gio: (blushing) I dunno, It wasn’t much.

Itzel: It’s a whole lot, to me, to hear from my family. And it’s a lot to go against your brother like that to help us.

Gio: I just wish I could do more. But Luc is watching me closer than ever. The only reason I was able to make it up here now is cause he went to take a shower, and I slipped the guards.

Itzel: Rosie and I both appreciate what you do. Your defiance inspires me.

Gio: What? Me?! Your strength, being locked up here, unable to see or speak to anyone besides Rosie, unable to communicate with your family? That’s real strength, you inspire me.

Itzel: Gio…

Gio: Yes…

Itzel: What are your plans for after the war? Do you think you’ll… stick around Selvadorada?

Gio: I don’t think any of us has plans for after the war… who knows how everything is going to go? Who knows if I’ll be around…

Itzel: Don’t talk like that…

(Luc appears around the corner, listening in)

Gio: But… if I do make it to the other side, I think I wouldn’t mind sticking around here… Would you… want me to stick around?

Itzel: I know Rose would appreciate another friend down here…

Gio: Right, Rosie, of course…

Itzel: But I think… yeah, I might like you to stick around. I could show you some of my favorite places from when I grew up…

Gio: I would really like that…

(Luc turns the corner)

Luc: Giovanni! What the hell are you doing up here!?

Gio: I.. just… Just going on the rounds, Luc. I ran into Lady Itzel here by chance and I distracted her by talking. It’s my fault, not hers.

Luc: I fully believe it’s your fault. (to Itzel) You, what are you doing out of your room?

Itzel: On my way back from the bathroom, Your Majesty.

Luc: Get back to your room now before I move you to the prison instead.

Itzel: Of course Your Majesty, my apologies.

(Itzel hurries back to Rose’s room)

Gio: Don’t punish her, Luc, it was my fault she stopped.

Luc: I know it’s your fault, Giovanni! You’re getting too familiar with the prisoners! The Simsdom Princess is not your childhood friend anymore! You’re not here to flirt with the locals! You are here to shadow me and learn from my side. You’re too damn soft, a fucking embarrasment to your family and the Empire. This is your penance for helping Octavia sneak away to marry that Oasis Springs bastard. Get your fucking act together or I will have you on the first ship back to Windenburg faster than you can say “oops!”

Gio: … Yes Luc, sorry Luc.

Luc: That’s Your Majesty to you!

Gio: Yes, Your Majesty.

Luc: Now get the hell out of here before I lock you in your room too.

[depressed-teacup-inc]

Oh god another Lila episode

Hi yes, before you say it I’m aware protection released yesterday, I was taking a mental health day for myself so I’m late but we’re doing this now ok? Let’s go!

So as the title says, this is another Lila episode! Which usually means that people are dumbed down to believe stupid things Lila says and everyone is against marinette being obsessive and that’s depicted as bad! While there is no dumbing down this episode, LILA MAKES SOME ACTUALLY GOOD POINTS THIS EPISODE THAT ARE SWEPT ASIDE BECAUSE “OHhH shES tHe VillaiN”

So Kagami confides with Lila in how marinette and Adrien being in a relationship, despite her being happy for them, hurts her a lot and that she’s just trying to help her friends be happy right?

So Lila starts saying how selfless and kind Kagami is for tolerating this shit and helping marinette get Adrien (which she’s right to say) and says how frankly, the fact marinette always has people help her with her love life issues is kinda weird, because she never seems to help others or acknowledge other people’s emotions or effort, AND SHES FUCKING RIGHT!!!

Like this is a serious problem in the show!!! Every single character except for marinette doesn’t have anything going for them anymore except helping marinette and Adrien get together! When is the last time we saw kitty section just play for the sake of playing, or marinette discussing Marc and Nath’s work, or hell! When is the last time we saw Adrien, Marinette’s love interest have anything going this season except for loving marinette?!

This show has a whole cast of different characters that they can easily grow and make new and interesting plots with, with episodes that rather then revolve around marinette confessing, can revolving around LITERALLY ANYTHING ELSE!!! And instead, everyone in this show has been just dumbed down to a couple signature traits, and constantly praising marinette and helping her with her stupid confession!

And when they’re no longer of use to Marinette? THEY WRITE THEM OUT OF THE SHOW (THEYRE LITERALLY WRITING LUKA OUT OF THE SHOW, WHO LET NINO PLAY THE FUCKING GUITAR?!)

And sure, Lila lies and definitely exaggerates and calls marinette “toxic” and shit which is very much “I have my own motive I want her to suffer” and I will acknowledge that! Lila isn’t a saint, and she never was!

But she’s not fully wrong. Marinette again, runs away from her friends trying to help her and when the plan doesn’t work cry about how “she doesn’t have the magic” or what not, instead of getting her shit together and try to consider and evaluate her feelings (again she immediately went back to Adrien after the thing with Chat Noir) and be considerate of her friends who are really trying to help her!

But again, whenever there’s a problem in the writing of the show (the plot being purely “marinette deserves everything and we should always help her get what she wants”) the show will make the villains say it, with a couple of mean words thrown in to argue that anyone who thinks this way is manipulative or wrong

Like hell, the way they “counteracted” Lila’s points? About the fact that people are constantly in service of marinette and don’t ever get the same kindness or support from marinette? Was just saying “well Marinette is the best and Lila is just lying so ha”

WHAT SORT OF ARGUMENT IS THAT?!

“Hey why is everyone constantly in service of marinette? Don’t you think the confess to Adrien plot is overdone? Don’t you think characters deserve more depth then being Marinette’s lackeys and perhaps even have marinette help them with their life?”

“Well it’s because marinette is the best and we love her so she’s fine”

Anyways that was a stupid episode, Lila is not necessarily wrong, and Gabriel not letting Adrien be with marinette is still weird? Like the show is trying to say that Gabriel’s only reason to not approving is blackmail from Kagami’s mom? Bitch if they try to redeem him