#we'll see how much of it actually gets written considering i have so many other wips too but ehe...

[seishun-emergency]

stares 5e ng+ au

HELLO... that one's short for "five eccentrics new game plus au" it's inspired by this dnd campaign i'm in. im not sure where my dm got the idea for the campaign from or if its an original one BUT anyways. fun little dnd au. i actually posted a prequel fic to that wip a while back... onto the snippet

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He stands from his desk, picking up his greatsword from where it rests against the wall. “How many?” he asks. 

“Four,” the boy replies quickly, one of his hands coming up to comb nervously through red hair. “I couldn’t see them all, but I think one is—” 

The boy says a name, but the syllables come out muffled, wrong, like he’s been submerged in water and left to parse out the name from the bubbles that rise to the top after. He frowns. “Speak clearly.”

The boy’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, but he obeys easily. The name is no clearer than it was seconds ago. 

The confusion, something, anything, must show on his face, because the boy opens his mouth to speak again. “Are you alright, —-niisan?” This time, he knows exactly which name should be there — and that makes it altogether more baffling, more concerning, when the words sift through his ears like sand through loose fingers, when he cannot remember what should replace these words trapped in bubbles of air. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + three

authors note: wow! omg, thank you all so much for the kind words of support for this story! it really does mean a lot to me, cause i know the content is pretty heavy.

also, if anyone has read the acotar series, i imagine the dynamic between roman and the twins to be a bit similar to the bat boys. and yes, we'll def see more of the twins moving forward.

in addition, if you want to be tagged, you have to explicitly ask as such. the last thing i want to do is tag someone i thought wanted to be tagged and didn't, and they end up triggered. :(

if any cw/tw’s are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: language, violence against women, trauma responses (nightmares/night terrors), hints at suicidal thoughts, references to traumatic past

song inspo: 'looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

words: 9k

Roman doesn’t come back until the wee hours of the morning, and he’s out the house again before the sun is even up.

Solana knows all of this because she doesn’t sleep that night.

It’s not for lack of trying. She spends nearly two hours twisting and turning before finally accepting that sleep isn’t in the cards for her. She instead finds herself sitting on the floor of her bathroom, door locked, writing away in her journal. No letter to mom this time, just pure word vomit, all of her thoughts and feelings about everything that’s transpired. 

There’s as many tears as there are words, and like always post–writing, she feels a tad bit better. The best and only release she ever has is in her written word, all of the things she could never say aloud, melted from her head and sealed into paper.

When she’s done writing, Solana opts to read a book in her Kindle Library. Doing so makes her realize that she still doesn’t have her stuff from back home. It’s not that she has a lot, but the items she was told to pack just for the first few nights will only last just that—for a few days.

But, Solana doesn’t think it’s a good idea to ask Roman about that. She doesn’t think it’s a good idea to ask him for anything, not after she’s clearly and understandably upset him. She’ll just….she’ll just have to make do until it's noticed she's essentially living out of a suitcase. 

And Solana has a thought, an idea, that getting up early to fix him breakfast could be a good thing, something to tame his anger toward her. It’s the least that she can do.

But one look around Roman’s massive kitchen indicates he’s every bit the stereotypical bachelor. There’s only a couple of ingredients, not enough of anything to make an actual meal. There’s also a lot of “meal prep” meals, which makes sense. She can imagine he’s insanely strict with his diet and fitness. One can’t look like Roman Reigns without an intense amount of focus and dedication.

It makes her wonder just what kind of dietary restrictions and preferences she’ll have to learn about him to make meals that he can actually consume. Another question she needs to ask but doesn’t know how or when considering he already has very little to no interest in having anything to do with her.

It’s another thing she knows she’ll have to figure out but tries her best to focus on anything else besides the fact that she’s now married to a man who can’t stand her, the same man her family wants her to somehow assassinate.

Yes…..other things is a much better seat filler.

Solana briefly wonders how she’s going to get to work considering her car is still back at her dad’s house, but just when she’s considering calling an Uber, she’s met in the living room of Roman’s massive estate by none other than his right hand man and cousin.

Solo Sikoa 

All he says is, “ready?” And she realizes that this is how she’s to get to work, that he is to escort her. Him and another set of large men, guards as she realizes. A separate set of guards, not the ones who roam and patrol Roman’s mansion. 

Being around so many men….it’s a different kind of experience. Leaning more on the side of uncomfortable than anything. 

But, she’s at least a bit more at ease when Solo only opens the door to the back of the SUV and doesn’t join in, instead sitting in the passenger seat.

She's grateful for that.

Solo is almost the same exact person as his cousin. Large, strong, stoic and scary as hell. The only difference is that she’s not sure Solo is capable of sentences that include more than 1 to 3 words.

It’s obvious he’s not thrilled about being assigned as her personal guard, and she can’t blame him. There can’t be anything exciting about watching her boring life and making sure nothing happens to her during said boring life.

But Solana can’t deny there’s a small part of her that feels a small sense of comfort at having someone to look out for her. Even if she partially questions his loyalty to said job. Something happening to her wouldn’t do anything to anybody. At all. 

She’d just….cease to exist.

And lately….that hasn’t seemed like the worst thing ever. 

But, it’s when she arrives at work, goes into her office to start to prepare for the work day only to find her brother already waiting that that comfort is obliterated.

“Sis.” Wes' smile is tight and inauthentic, his eyes darting between her and Solo. “Sorry to scare you. I was just hoping we could talk.”

Talk….

Wes never wants to talk to her, not unless it’s him berating and screaming while he beats the shit out of her. 

“Alone.” He gives Solo a faux sympathetic expression. “Family things….you understand, I’m sure.”

Solana doesn’t know if Solo understands or he doesn’t, but she does know that Wes' kind and friendly tone is all smoke and mirrors. She knows he’s pissed that he didn’t catch her off-guard, didn’t catch her alone, that he couldn’t corner her like he always does.

And for a second, Solana believes she’s safe, knows that Solo won’t let Wes lay a hand on her. It’s….it’s his job to keep her safe, right?

But just as that hope is present, it’s extinguished by the reality she knows is inescapable. Solo won’t be with her 24/7. She won’t be protected forever. She’ll eventually be around both Wes and her father alone. And the price she’ll have to pay for denying him in this moment….

It’s not worth it. 

Roman’s words to her father about not touching her are nice in theory, but she knows better. Xavier Miller does what he wants, regardless of what’s said and by who.

“O–of course,” Solana mumbles, fingers dancing at the side of her pants. She turns to Solo. “Please….give us a few minutes.”

For the first time since she’s met him, Solo actually shows some type of emotion. It still stems from anger, maybe a branch of irritation, but it's still something different. “Tribal Chief said I’m supposed to watch you, so that’s what I do.”

She swallows. This is going to require a level of assertiveness that’s almost foreign if not non-existent. “I–I understand, but….Wes is my brother. He—” It’s almost impossible for her to even get the words out. “He would never hurt me.”

Solana almost immediately wants to vomit. That’s all this man has ever done. 

At least since the murder of their mother. 

Solo is struggling but wavering, she can see as much, so she continues. “It’s okay,” she assures, even mustering up a small smile. “Please….just a couple minutes. I won’t—I won’t say anything to Roman.”

Solo still looks torn but eventually agrees, leaving her alone with one of two men who hate her most on this earth. 

The door is barely closed when Wes has her pinned against the wall, hand slapped over her mouth, a knife pressed to the base of her throat.

“You stupid bitch, don’t think for one second that being married to Reigns changes shit,” he snarls. “He doesn’t give a fuck about you. He just doesn’t like people messing with his possessions.”

Solana knows all of this, knows that anything Roman may do that seems to be for her benefit is just him asserting his dominance. She doesn’t need to be reminded of this. 

“Wes, you’re hurting me.” She suddenly feels so stupid saying that, telling him what he already knows. Of course, he is. That’s the whole point. Still, she stupidly believes she can plead to whatever humanity is left in him. If any. “P–please.”

“Shut up,” he hisses, shoving her head against the wall. Solana winces quietly, mindful of Solo who stands outside the door because of her. Because she told him to, because she welcomed this violence onto herself.

“Reigns told dad you won’t be available for a couple weeks, so I suggest you start doing what you need to do to change that. We need to be able to communicate with you.”

This startles her. Why would Roman say that? Did Roman say that? Wes is a master manipulator, and she doesn’t put it past him to be playing mind games.

“I—I don’t know what you want me to do.” And it’s true. Solana has no idea what to do in any of this, how she’s supposed to kill a man who’s more or less impossible to kill, how she’s supposed to win his favor when it’s obvious she already annoys him. It’s all so confusing and overwhelming.

“Did you fuck him last night?”

It’s a question she hoped no one would ask, didn’t believe would be asked because there’s no one who would care enough except for Roman himself.

And while Solana knows being dishonest with her brother won’t turn out well, in this moment, she doesn’t know how he’ll respond if she tells the truth.

So, she lies. She lies to live to see another day, for what reason, she doesn't know. It’s not as if any other day will provide her some sense of solace or security. But, it’s just what she does. 

“Y–yes.”

Wes looks understandably pleased. “Good.” She gaps in fear when he drags his knife against her skin, gently trailing it across, just light enough to avoid drawing blood. “That’s all you’ve ever been good for us for anyway.”

A frown falls upon her face. What….what does that mean?

“Just keep contact open, you understand?” No, she doesn’t, but she has no choice but to pretend that she does. Nodding, Wes shoves her into the wall one more time at an angle that causes her shoulder to take the impact. Wincing, she holds onto it as he releases her and walks out the door. “Don’t fuck this up, Solana.”

Easier said than done. Much easier said than done. 

It’s when he leaves her alone that the tears pool in her eyes. But, it’s when Solo walks in, studying her that she sniffles and wipes at her eyes. “I–I’m fine.”

She’s not.

She’s far from fine. 

————

The day ends up slightly, maybe even moderately, improving. It’s to be slightly expected though as it’s Monday, the day that Solana runs her reading club with the younger kids. It’s always a highlight to see their bright, smiling faces, answering all of their fifty million questions.

It’s a break from a very bleak reality that is her life, immersing herself in their world of pretend and minimal worries.

Sometimes, she finds herself a bit jealous. Jealous that they still have their innocence, that their view of the world hasn’t been painted in red and blood like hers.

But, it’s when Solana is in the back taking her break, journaling, that that improvement takes a deep dive. Because a single knock on the door is followed by the large intimidating frame of her husband entering her space. 

Naturally, her stomach knots. She hasn’t seen Roman since last night, since he helped and scolded her in the same brief timespan. She understands it though and doesn't entirely disagree with what he said.

She’s far from the perfect picture of mental stability. 

Swallowing, Solana stands up and opens her mouth to address him when his eyes go from her face to her wrist. Following his line of vision, she sees why. There’s a blueish/greenish obvious bruise starting to form, beyond that initial point of formation really. It's just a straight up, fully developed bruise.

Roman slowly walks over to her and reaches for her arm. Solana naturally tenses. He hesitates for a second but still takes her wrist, lifting it so that it's at her eye level but still close enough for him to assess. 

She closes her eyes and acts quickly to think of an excuse. “I—umm—”

“Who?”

His voice is quieter than she anticipated and as much as she wishes she doesn't know what he means, Solana knows exactly what he’s asking. She just doesn’t answer. 

“I’m only going to ask you this one time and one time only.” His brown eyes are burning into her as he perfectly enunciates each word. “Who fucking touched you?”

Solana winces at his tone but eventually answers. “Wes....”

Roman drops her hand, and Solana brings her arms to her chest, head dropped. 

He’s pissed. 

That seems to be the only emotion he experiences around her, because of her.

His nostrils are flared as he demands. “Where was Solo?” 

Making him wait for a response is clearly something that sets him off even more, so Solana does her best to answer in a timely manner. “I—I asked him to leave. Wes….Wes didn’t want him in the room.”

“Of course, he fucking didn’t. Why would you—” Roman pinches his nose. A day. It’s been less than 48 hours, only a day in, and this marriage shit already has him fucking stressed out. Being married to this damn girl is like having a fucking child to look after. “From now on, I don’t give a fuck what your idiot brother and poor excuse of a father tell you, you’re not to be alone with them.” Roman’s command is a lot easier said than done. Denying her father or brother has never done her any favors. Solana isn’t sure how to verbalize this to the man in front of her who’s already six different shades of annoyed. “I thought I made that clear to them at the wedding, but obviously, they need a reminder.”

Solana feels every bit the scolded child, murmuring a quiet, “I’m sorry…”

Roman looks at her, and for a slither of a second, maybe even less than that, he feels bad for her. Feels bad because it’s clearly not her fault that she’s so fucked up. With a dad and brother like Xavier and Wes, what chance did she have?

He then briefly wonders about her mother, wonders what the dynamic was like there. But that’s a short lived trail because his mind then goes to his own mother. 

And Roman can’t have that, can’t go down that road for a variety of reasons, reasons that may not be that different from Solana’s. 

“Send me your work schedule.” Redirection is always a good strategy. That and fucking. Obviously, only one is an option for the woman in front of him. 

Panic builds in Solana’s stomach. Why does he want that? Her mind starts to race, arriving at only negative conclusions. Does he want her to quit? That thought kills her. 

Working at the library is the highlight, the only highlight, of her days. She doesn’t know what she would do without that outlet. 

“It won’t get in the way of my duties to you.” Solana typically isn’t the one to advocate for herself. Ever. But this….she can’t lose this, and it scares her to think of what mental decline could happen if she does. Nothing good. That’s for certain. “I—I can get up early and–and make your breakfast and meal prep lunch. A–and I’ll make sure your dinner is ready too by the time you come home—”

Rubbing his temple, exasperated, Roman asks, “what are you talking about?”

She’s not above begging. In a pleading tone, she begs, “please don’t make me quit my job.”

Roman isn’t quite sure what to make of the fact that the most words he’s heard leave Solana’s mouth are practically her begging to keep her job. He can understand it though. He would bet that her only time away from her family was when she was at work. “You can work as little or as much as you want. I don’t care about that.”

His words create instant relief. “Oh–I’m sorry, I thought—”

Roman runs his hand over his face. “You don’t have to apologize for everything.”

“Sor—” Solana drops her head as he exhales. Loudly. It’s not even noon, and he’s already over and done with this damn day.

“What time do you get off today?”

Solana licks her lips, answering. “Three.”

“I’ll meet you then.”

He can see she wants to ask but has decided against it, most likely recognizing his irritation. “We need to get your stuff from that house.” 

And in the midst of her anxiety in this conversation, she finds a glimmer of hope. She’s thankful that this isn’t something she had to initiate to ask him about.  

Something tells her Roman doesn’t like being questioned a lot.

Or at all.

“O–okay.” Is the answer she finally settles on, not wanting to say too much, vowing, “I’ll make sure I’m done by 3pm sharp.”

On one hand, Roman enjoys and respects punctuality, but something tells him Solana’s is based more on fear than anything. “Whenever is fine.”

Nodding and pushing her hair behind her ear, Solana watches Roman walk over to the door, preparing to leave when he asks, “is your brother right handed or left handed?”

His question takes her off guard, and she doesn’t quite know why he’s asking this in the first place. “W-what?”

Roman clearly doesn’t like repeating himself, because his tone takes on an edge. “Is he right handed or left handed?”

Solana swallows. She’s made him mad. Again. “R–right.”

Without another question, he leaves. And once the door shuts, he snaps at Solo, demanding, “why the fuck did you leave her alone with him? I told you to watch her!”

Roman knows his cousin well enough to know that Solo is doing a brilliant job masking his embarrassment at his failure. “She said—”

“I don’t care what she says. You don’t answer to her. You answer to me. Understood?”

Solo keeps his head high, acknowledging, “yes, my Tribal Chief.” Roman wastes no time in exiting the library and entering the SUV waiting for him, slamming the door shut. He pulls out his phone, selecting one of his most recent contacts, hitting dial. 

Jey answers on the third ring, but he’s immediately yelling to someone else, “slam my door one more fucking time, Nicki, and see what happens!” Roman’s jaw clenches, another new source of irritation being presented to him. “Ayo, Uce, now’s not a good time—”

“I don’t care.” Roman’s hot headed cousin and his equally hot headed wife arguing is nothing special. The fight. They fuck. They make up. And do it all over again. It’s not pressing news or even news at all at this point. “The Miller boy. Send him a message. A clear message.”

“I’ve got—”

“Did you hear what I just said?” There must be something in the air or the water, because Roman having to repeat himself is fucking asinine. He speaks once, and everyone should jump immediately. The fact that that isn’t happening is only pissing him off more. “And his right hand…make sure it’s broken.”

Jey sighs on the other end of the phone. “Aight. Me and Jimmy will have it done by the end of the day.”

Roman ends the phone call before his cousin can feed him any more excuses. Head tilted back against the headrest, he tries to settle himself. This day so far has been nothing but inconvenience after inconvenience. 

There’s nothing that pisses him off more than having to repeat himself, having conversations extend longer than they should, and that’s all this day has been thus far. He’s had to over explain and reiterate himself more than Roman feels necessary. 

And the day isn’t even halfway over. 

He needs an outlet.

Roman switches apps, finding one of his more recent contacts and sending out a message. 

Roman: Come over tonight. 

As expected, her reply comes almost right away. 

Samantha: Lol. That didn’t take long.

Samantha: See you then.

————

Solana always struggles with a level of anxiety when entering the home she grew up in. For a myriad of reasons. Most, if not all, being completely valid. Nothing good has ever happened for her in that place. And more often than not, she’d barely be in the house for more than a couple of minutes before she was either being berated or beaten.

Usually both.

But this…..this is different. A lot different, because she’s not walking into hell alone, she’s walking along (behind) Bloodline guards and the 6’3, pure muscled leader of said Bloodline. 

Roman Reigns.

Who also happens to be her husband.

Playing around with the wedding ring on her finger, Solana tries again to remind herself that this is real, that she’s married, that she’s married to Roman Reigns of all people. 

The reality definitely hasn’t set in.

Roman is about to knock on the door again when it swings open. Solana naturally steps back, something Roman takes notice of.

Xavier looks pissed, his fiery gaze landing on her first, but just as quickly as it was present, it's gone, settling into an almost pleasant smile. Directed at Roman, of course.

“Tribal Chief,” he greets. Solana’s gaze is on the ground now, focused on her painted toes instead of the man before her who she’s certain would be unleashing hell on her if not for the multitude of much larger, much stronger men surrounding her. “I wasn’t expecting—”

“I don’t care,” Roman interrupts, voice reeking of indifference. “She needs to go get her stuff.”

“Oh.” Solana can only imagine the difficulty her father is having in not throwing a fit. “Well, we can arrange for it to be delivered—”

“No.”

She means more to think it than to say it, but that intention falls short, because she definitely says it aloud.

And most of her regrets it, but there’s a small slither that doesn’t.

Solana knows her father. She knows him very well. 

Roman has done nothing but piss him off from the very beginning of this whole ordeal, pushing and pushing him. And Solana has always been the object of her father’s anger, but Roman seems intent on making sure that doesn’t happen. 

That means he’ll have to get creative with his punishments.

If he can’t hurt her, he’ll go after the things she loves. 

The few items in that home that she holds near and dear, items that belonged to her mother.

She knows he would dispose of them all so that all that would be retrieved by the movers would be clothes.

And the thought of the only things she has of her mother being discarded like trash makes her sick to her stomach.

She can’t give him that opportunity. 

Looking up, she’s met with two sets of eyes on her. One indicating irritation and the other, curiosity. Swallowing, she stutters, “I’m sorry. I—”

“No.” Roman’s interruption is stark and to the point. “We’re already here. She gets it now.”

“But—”

“Move.”

Xavier’s jaw ticks, but he does as such, stepping to the side. Roman looks back at Solana, motioning for her to walk in. 

Instantly, she’s going to the key holder. She has to make sure she gets her mother’s stuff before anything. But, the key to the attic, the key that’s sat in the same spot since she was a girl, is suddenly missing.

Her stomach drops. 

Without hesitation, she turns to her dad, asking, “wh—where’s the key to the attic?”

Solana knows before he even says anything that she’s not going to like his answer. She just doesn't realize just how much she’s not going to like his answer.

“Oh, I put it in your old room on the dresser.” Solana’s chest is immediately tight, her stomach dropping. Xavier gives that sly smile and little shrug. “Figured there’d be some things you’d want to grab as well.”

It’s hard for Solana to not start crying right then and there, standing between her father and her husband. Two men who dislike her for very different reasons. 

And maybe dislike isn’t a strong enough word to describe the feeling her father has toward her. Because one has to have an inhuman level of vitriol toward another individual to put her in the situation he just did.

That room….Solana hasn’t been in that room in years and planned to never enter it again for as long as she lived. And he knows that. Knows that there’s nothing in there she wants. Knows that she’d rather walk on burning coal barefoot than enter that space of horrific memories and unspeakable horrors. 

“I–I—”

“Is something wrong?”

Roman, watching this whole exchange closely, is instantly annoyed. It’s obvious something is wrong, there’s some story with this old room of hers, because she looks just as terrified as she did last night. And something about this pisses him off all over again, because this man is still trying to defy his orders, still trying to find ways to inflict his torture without lifting a finger. 

“Where’s the room?” 

Solana doesn't expect that question to leave Roman’s mouth, but it instantly brings on another layer of dread. He doesn’t know why she can’t go in that room, and he can never know, but that not knowing is probably going to result in him pushing her to hurry up so they can get the hell out of here.

But, that doesn’t happen. He steps towards her dad and repeats in a calm voice. “Show me.” It’s then she realizes that he’s asking so he can retrieve this key for her.

And that confuses the mess out of her because why? He doesn't have to, doesn’t need to. It doesn’t benefit him in the slightest. 

So why?

But for Roman, it’s simple. He’ll take any opportunity presented to piss off this son of a bitch, and undermining every attempt Miller takes to mess with Solana presents an opportunity for Roman to assert his dominance. 

And it’s obvious by the pure terror that crosses Solana’s face that, for whatever reason, she has zero desire or even ability to enter this room. It does cross him a bit strange that she would have such a reaction to her childhood bedroom, something that typically holds special memories for people.

Until he enters said room. 

Immediately, there’s a darkness about the aura, something heavy and unsettling that he can’t necessarily describe but most definitely feels. It’s a stark contrast to the design and decoration, lots of pink and girly shit, a couple of stuffed animals sitting on the top of the dresser. It’s on the dresser he notices a shattered picture frame that in picking up he sees a photo of a young woman, dark curly hair, beautiful, light eyes and a breathtaking smile. There’s something about her that reminds him of Solana. Her mother. This has to be her mother.

For reasons Roman doesn’t quite understand, there’s something suddenly uncomfortable by looking at this photo, a ghost, someone from the past. A person cruelly and violently ripped away from her family.

It….it hits too close to him.

Laying the broken photo frame down, Roman continues to assess the room and suddenly notices scratches on the door and the wall that holds the door. But, they’re not scratches that come from furniture being moved or kids being rough, they’re clearly nail marks. As if someone was dragged and the scratches a testament of their fight against whatever attack they were facing.

Snatching the key off the dresser, he then redirects his attention to the poorly cleaned splashes of dried blood on the carpet near the bed. He’s suddenly frowning of sorts. 

There’s a story here. A story that paints a dark, grim picture. One that makes Roman slightly curious about just what the hell this girl has really been through in this hellhole?

Not wanting to stay in that creepy ass room any longer than necessary, he walks back out into the living room and ignores Miller’s obvious irritation to reach Solana the key.

Accepting it, she offers the first smile he’s probably seen on her since their first meeting. “Thank you.” Her voice is the usual mixture of soft and quiet but also….grateful. She’s probably the only person in history to ever be so happy at being given something as simple as a key. But Roman isn’t stupid. He recognizes the deeper meaning. 

Nodding, he motions for a few of his men to follow her as she heads for wherever the attic door is located. 

That leaves Roman alone with his least favorite person in the world.

“She can’t take everything, you know.” Xavier shares. He reminds, “she has a brother. My son and I deserve to have something of my late wife to—”

“I don’t care.” And he doesn’t. He honestly, truly doesn’t. “She can take whatever she wants.”

“I understand that she’s your wife, but she was my daughter long before she became your wife. And you’re standing in my house.” Xavier doesn’t skip a beat to contend. “I think you should also remember that, Tribal Chief.”

To be fair, Roman would like to think he’s done a half decent job all day managing his temper. He’s yet to maim or kill anyone which is commendable for him, in and of itself. But something about Xavier pisses him the fuck off to the point where he doesn’t give a damn about controlling his temper. 

And that’s exactly what happens. 

In a matter of seconds, Roman has Xavier by the throat, pinned against the wall, squeezing so tightly he can practically feel the man's bones pressing against his fingertips. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” Xavier’s eyes are nearly bugging out of his head as he helplessly grasps at Roman's grip, which only makes the Tribal Chief squeeze harder. “Don’t ever fucking forget who runs this. I run it all!” As much as Roman enjoys playing the long game with this bastard, there’s only so much he can put up with. Miller needs to know Roman is not his daughter, but he damn sure will dictate that any interactions with said daughter go through him. “You see Solana when I say you can see her. You talk to her when I say you can talk to her.” Intensifying his grip, Roman notices the color draining from Xavier’s face. And it’s probably the best thing he’s seen all day. “You live because I allow it. You’re still fucking breathing because I will it.” Recognizing Miller is at the door of unconsciousness, he finally lets the man go, enjoying the sight of him coughing violently, nearly laying on the floor. “Don’t you ever fucking forget that shit.”

Xavier, wisely, doesn't say much after that. And neither does Roman, who simply makes sure his men help Solana gather all she needs, which isn’t that much outside of clothes. He starts to ask her about her car, but something tells him it’s under Xavier’s name, which is why he decides against it.

He’ll just get her another one. 

Roman doesn’t want her to have shit to do with this family, largely because he doesn’t want shit to do with this family.

And he knows what the first step toward initiating that separation will be.

—--------

The Warehouse has always been Roman’s escape.

17,000 square feet of escape, completely revamped and redone by him in his early twenties. It’s a massive compound that serves as both a place to train and compete. The former of which being why he’s present and needing to speak to the one person who he has in charge of all the day to day workings of the Warehouse. 

But, that’s all she’s interested in outside of competing herself and only training those with some fire to them.

It’s why he’s not surprised when Nia takes one look at him, then Solana, and with a snort and roll of her eyes, simply says, “no.”

Roman isn’t an idiot. He knew his cousin would immediately decline, would know what he wanted to ask before it could even leave his mouth.

If only he cared about her objection. 

“Wait here,” he mutters to Solana who only nods, hugging the jacket around her body. Solo remains nearly inches away from her. She looks so out of place, a small part of him can’t blame Nia for declining.

Nia continues to walk the balcony, eyes clearly checking in on the various sets of people training. Roman does as well, just not nearly with the same amount of focus and attention. That’s what he has Nia for.

His blood cousin and close friend since they were kids, there’s few people in this world that Roman trusts, and Nia is grouped in that category. She’s a worthy member of the bloodline and a hell of a person to have alongside you in a fight. 

It’s why she's the perfect person for this task.

“Nia.”

“I said no, Roman.” She turns to him, smirking, taunting him in a way only she and his close family can. "You know, that word that you hate?”

It actually makes him chuckle, a speckle of amusement in a day full of anything but. “If you know I hate it, why are you saying it?”

“Because unlike the rest of the world, I’m not your bitch.”

It’s partially true. Nia has never been one to shy away from being completely and, often, ruthlessly honest with her cousin. It’s something Roman sometimes appreciates, enjoying the occasional challenge and differing perspective.

This isn’t one of those times though. 

He again reiterates. “She needs to be trained.” 

It’s abundantly clear that Solana has no backbone, and he can’t entirely fault her for that because it’s also clear that she’s never really had the chance to develop one. But, that’s no longer the case, because while he can deal with the stammering and quietness, her fragility has to go. 

She has to learn to stand up for herself.

She needs to learn how to fight back.

Nia turns around with a sarcastic chuckle. “You really think that girl can be trained? I saw her at the wedding. She looked terrified the entire time. You breathe too hard in her direction, and she’ll probably have a fucking panic attack.” Roman is briefly taken back to last night. Nia hasn’t the slightest clue how true her words are. “She’s not built for this life.”

Roman doesn’t entirely disagree. If there was ever a person who’d do well and significantly better in something cookie cutter, white picket fence type shit, it’s Solana. But she’s here now, this is her life, so they need to make the best of it. She needs to learn how to survive in this life. and he expresses as such. “Regardless, she needs to learn to defend herself to some extent.”

Nia shrugs, leaning back against the railing and crossing her arms. “So teach her.”

“I don’t have the time. Or the patience.” It’s almost entirely true. There are already so many hats that Roman has to wear. Adding on another one that includes teaching a traumatized young woman how to fight is not an option. Even more, something tells him that Solana would do better training with a woman. She seems most skittish around men.

Nia scoffs, pointing to herself. “And you think I do?”

“Nia….” As much as he enjoys sparring with his cousin from time to time, his patience has grown thin. His tone darkens. “I’m not asking you.”

While tempted to continue to push back, Nia isn’t a stupid woman. She can recognize when Roman is about to lose his cool. “Fucking hell….” With a heavy sigh and shrug of defeat, she accepts. “Fine. I’ll do it, but don’t expect me to like her.”

“I never expect you to like anyone.” He chuckles, adding. “And Nia…..take it easy on her at first.”

Nia curses, instantly accusing, “You think coddling her will help?”

“I know being too rough with her won’t.”

A hard exterior is built from experience and tolerance. Roman fully believes that. However, something tells him his new wife has had enough experiences that anything more could push her closer to breaking point. So approaching it almost gingerly would probably wield the best outcome. 

Nia is, justifiably, vexed. “Whatever. I don’t have time for your weak ass wife. I’ll have Naomi teach her the basics, and once she learns how to actually throw a punch without crying, I’ll take over her training.” 

Roman has no issue with this. Solana seemed to be fine around Naomi at the wedding, so it might actually be a good match. “Fine. Just keep me updated with her progress.” Roman adds, starting to walk away.

“Do I have a choice?”

Instantly, he answers. “Nope.”

Nia’s laughter behind him brings a small smile to his face. 

Rejoining the group, he finds Solana looking just as nervous as he left her. “Let’s go.”

He turns and so does Solo, Roman deciding he’ll talk with Solana about starting training back at the house. But, her small voice calling his name, the first time he’s heard her say as such draws his attention.

Turning around, he asks, “yeah?”

She swallows and starts that damn stammering. It’s hard for him to not snap at her to just get it out. He hates that beating around the bush bullshit. “Umm, can we—uhh, stop somewhere?” Roman does his best to hide his irritation. Where the fuck does she need to go? “I just—-I noticed you don’t have a lot of ingredients at the house, and—and I need some things so I can cook.”

Initially, Roman’s first reaction is to tell her no, that she doesn’t need to cook. He doesn’t need her to cook for him. He does just fine on his own, but that’s the thing that makes him pause. He’s not on his own anymore. She needs to eat too.

So, he agrees, “fine.”

“Ayo, uce!”

Jesus Christ.

Roman needs a vacation. A week long vacation, because the way the past 24hrs has drained him more than anything he’s experienced in the past year is criminal.

The twins jog over, exchanging what is an undeniably awkward acknowledgement to Solana. And he doesn't blame them. She’s so damn docile that they probably don't know how to interact with her.

“Let us catch that ride with you.”

Roman shuts his eyes. “Why?”

Jimmy is the one to answer. “You wanted us to debrief you on that thing from earlier, remember?”

Roman realizes they’re referring to the message he had them send Solana’s brother, which he does want to hear about but not necessarily now.

“She needs to stop at the store before we head back to the house,” Roman informs, hoping the twins will just take a car back to the house to meet him their to debrief.

But that’s too much like right, because they end up in the same SUV as him and Solana, seated in the back, while he sits in the middle with her. And it’s not missed upon him how she’s practically tucked in the corner of the SUV, notebook out as she writes away while his idiotic cousins go on and on in the back about whatever.

The old lady from the library wasn’t kidding. This damn girl is always writing. 

When they arrive at the grocery store, Roman reaches for his wallet, sliding out his black card and handing it to her. “Here. Use this.” 

Roman hadn’t thought about this until just now, thought about the need to make his money available to her. He makes a mental note to have his accountant add Solana to all of his accounts and have cards mailed out with her name. In the meantime, she’ll have to deal with using his.

“Thank you.” She accepts the card, quickly asking, “what’s my limit?”

“What limit?”

Her cheeks redden as she explains. “Like….like how much I can spend?"

“There is none,” he answers with a shrug. “Just get what you need.”

Jey suddenly leans forward, tapping Roman on the shoulder. “Ayo, Big Dog, lemme run this by you.”

“No.”

Of course, the word goes in one ear and out the other. “So, I’m trying to explain to her that it’s not what she thinks. I don’t even care about that bitch, but she’s not trying to hear me. Going on and go about how I ain’t shit, I don’t treat her right—you know, the usual—-and so finally, I just snap on her ass cause who the fuck you think you talking to—”

Jimmy agrees. “She acting like you ain’t got no options.”

Jey sucks his teeth, “man, that’s what I’m saying. Like, I ain’t gotta put up with that shit!”

“Hell naw!”

The idea of grocery shopping doesn’t appeal to Roman in the slightest, but neither does listening to his dumbass cousin complain about his marriage problems to his equally dumbass brother. So, it’s the lesser of two evils, really. 

“Fuck it,” he mutters, unbuckling his seatbelt, and opening the door. Solo and Solana’s eyes fall on him as they’d yet to enter the store. “I’ll go with her.”

Solana looks expectedly surprised as Solo simply nods and gets back in the passenger seat.

“I’ll make it quick.”

Roman says nothing, walking alongside her, still providing enough distance to not make her uncomfortable. 

As long as the twins are harping on and on about stupid shit, she can take as long as she wants.

Once in the store, Solana pushing the cart, Roman realizes she was writing down a grocery list that she uses to track the needed items as they peruse what feels like endless aisles. Granted, he hasn’t been inside an actual grocery store in probably close to two decades, if not longer, so maybe this is normal for a grocery store. 

It’s when they reach the produce section that she seems a bit stumped, chewing on her bottom lip, clearly perplexed.

He starts to ask her what’s wrong, but she walks over to one of the workers and takes him slightly by surprise when she starts speaking in a different language. Spanish, he eventually settles on. It’s also the first time he thinks he’s ever seen her smile. Outside of when he gave her the key And laugh. That one is definitely a first. Both small and quiet, but still, a first. She seems to know or at least be familiar with the worker who digs around the produce and reaches over a packaged bag of whatever produce it is. 

It’s when she returns to place the produce in the basket, continuing to walk, that he asks, “you speak Spanish?”

She looks up at him, but not for too long, as if doing so is forbidden, explaining. “My—my mom taught me. She was originally from Mexico.”

Roman figured as such from the picture he saw in her room that Solana’s mom was Hispanic or had some type of Central American ancestry. He’s also surprised by her answering with more than just 3 to 5 words, providing more information than he asked. 

It’s not something he necessarily cares about, but it doesn’t annoy him like it typically does when people give him a longer answer than what’s necessary. 

“Are—are your cousins always like….like that?” Again, she takes him by surprise, up until the point where she immediately goes into apologizing. “I–I don’t mean it in a bad way. I would never—”

“Yes,” he cuts off her rambling. It’s unnecessary because the answer is simple. “They are.” With a mutter, he adds, “they never shut the fuck up.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees it. That smile smile, this time conjoined with a small laugh that she does a decent job trying to suppress. And it’s like she catches herself, changing the subject as she asks, “umm, are you—like—allergic to anything? Or is there something you don’t like? I can learn—”

“I can eat anything.” It’s a simple, truthful answer. It also seems like something she’d been wanting to ask but only built the courage to do so at the end of their current conversation, even if brief as hell.

Solana doesn’t say much after that, and it confuses Roman when she tries to grab items on shelves much higher than what exceeds her reach. It confuses him because it would be significantly easier for her to just ask him to reach it. Granted, something tells him just her asking to be taken to the grocery store seems to be her daily quota for requests.

So he takes it upon himself, hand on the small of her back, ignoring how she tenses at his touch, to tell her to step aside as he easily retrieves the item. With a tuck of her hair behind her ear and a small “thank you,” she continue shopping but this time actually, still with that same irksome gentleness, asks him to reach items that she cannot. It’s not a lot, just a couple.

And it’s not long before she’s done, checking out with his card that she makes sure to give back to him immediately. He gets the sense that that’s something she thinks is important to him.

It’s not.

The worst he can see her doing is going crazy at fucking Barnes and Nobles.

Roman has his men load the trunk for her, something that also seems to take her off guard. Like she’s not used to the assistance.

And she probably isn’t. 

————

Samantha Irvin has been on Roman’s revolving roster of women since he was in his teens. The longevity being that It’s always been the easiest with her. Sexually, at least. Their compatibility in that one area, the only one he really (only) cares about, is astronomical. But lately, more in the past few months than anything, she’s dropped a comment here and there about wanting more. 

He’s ignored them everytime. 

Roman has never promised Samantha anything more than what they currently are: fuck buddies. She knows this, just like she knows she’s not the only woman he’s fucking. Nothing about that should indicate him wanting more with anyone, including her.

Well, other than the wedding band now on his finger.

Samantha’s gaze falls on that wedding band, a bitter chuckle leaving her mouth. “I still can’t believe you actually did it.”

“Yeah,” he mutters. Discussing his shitshow of a marriage is the last thing he wants to do and far from the reason he left Solana in the middle of the night to come see her, to come work off his frustrations.

The same reason he invited her over tonight. 

Last night was a dumpster fuck, without a doubt. But today with Solana was….decent. Not amazing. Not awful. Just some strange space in between. Even as they arrived back at the estate and she went straight into cooking, creating something he can’t pronounce but can honestly say was delicious, a meal she delivered to him in his office. There was something manageable about that, this level of she does her thing, he does his, and if their paths cross in the process, he can deal with that.

The intimacy though….that’s something he’ll have to figure out, have to navigate, just not now. Not tonight. 

Right now, he just needs Samantha’s talented mouth on him.

She moves her hands up his chest, biting on her bottom lip. “She’s just a little girl, baby. You need a woman who knows how to please you.” Roman knows the other side of what she’s saying or rather what she’s not saying. Another subtle, or not so subtle depending on how you look at it, hint that she’s the one he should settle down with.

In all honesty, he has, or had, zero desire to settle down with anyone.

Especially not with Sam. She’s the kind of woman that’s good for fucking and nothing else. As much as Solana’s extreme passivity annoys the shit out of him, he’d pick that over the bitching Sam would do. He just knows she’d be on his ass about stupid shit like fucking other woman and not paying her enough attention. Like she’d think she’s somehow above him doing who and what the fuck he wants just cause he put a ring on her finger.

Way too needy.

But at least he can actually fucking touch Sam.

Kinda hard to make a baby with someone who has literal fucking panic attacks just from being touched.

It builds up his frustration again, hence Roman grabbing Samantha by the back of her head, forcing it back. She hisses, both from pain and pleasure. It’s another thing he does actually enjoy about her. She lets him be as rough as he wants and needs.

“Why are you still talking?” There may be a slight dim in her eyes at his question, but she hides it well. “I don’t give a fuck what you think.” He releases his grip and shoves her to her knees. “Put that mouth to actual good use.”

If she’s hurt by his brusque tone, she doesn’t show it, simply bringing her hands to unbuckle his pants. “I got you, daddy…” 

She gets his zipper down when a scream sounds throughout the house, causing her to freeze in her motions as she shoots Roman a confused look.

“What the hell?” Samantha’s obvious irritation is the last thing he hears before adjusting himself as he heads out the room and down the hall.

For some reason, Roman already knows what to expect before he even reaches Solana’s room. Opting against knocking, he opens the door and finds her twisting and turning in the bed, eyes shut, chest moving up and down, a light sheen of sweat on her forehead.

Yeah….just as he expected. 

Sighing, he walks over to the bed, sitting on the side. “Solana.”

“No.....” she’s crying in her sleep, clearly in the midst of a nightmare. Or night terror. “Mom, please…don’t leave me.”

Roman tenses. Immediately, he knows exactly what her nightmare is. He brings hands to her shoulder, shaking her. “Solana, wake up.”

“No…..”

He says her name again, a bit louder, firmer, “Solana, wake up.”

“No!” She screams again, shooting up from the bed, immediately fighting and pushing against his body. “Leave me alone!” She’s crying, clearly fighting against the demons one faces once in life but forever battles, even when they’re gone. 

It’s a permanent scar on the soul.

“Solana,” he says again, still stern, but somehow gentle. “You’re fine. You’re safe.” It’s the ‘safe’ word that seems to trigger something for her, mouth still ajar, painting heavily but no longer struggling against him. “It was just a bad dream.”

There’s a fleeting thought he has about pushing some of the flyaway hairs out of her face, but it’s gone before he can really process let alone act on said thought.

Solana looks at his hands on her forearm and immediately tugs them back to her body, hugging herself. She drops her head, eyes closing, “I’m—I’m sorry.”

His eyes take her in, studying her, “it’s fine.”

“I—I need some air.” She kicks the blankets off her body and swings her legs over the bed, hurriedly grabbing a notebook off the dresser and rushing out of the room past a smirking Samantha.

Roman shuts his eyes and runs his hand over his face, ignoring the strange array of emotions, or something like that, he’s experiencing.

He hasn’t been this exposed to this kind of behavior in years.

This may be more complicated than he realized. 

And it’s as he stands up from the bed, walking near the door that Samantha smirks. “Did she seriously say mom?”  His eyes snap to her as she runs her hands up and down his chest. “What a fucking child.”

Her words take him back, reframe things so that it’s not Solana the child crying for her mother not to be taken from her. It’s a young boy. Burned, bloody, and beat, fading in and out consciousness, the gaze of fiery flames in his peripheral vision, the smell of burning flesh invading his nostrils, the sound of wails and sirens all mingling together from the shock of it all. 

Roman catches himself, forcing those buried memories back where they belong in the very back of his mind. He then looks at Sam for a good five seconds before demanding, “get the fuck out.”

She pauses and then asks with an uncomfortable laugh, “what?”

“Get the fuck out of my house,” he repeats, shoving her hands off him. 

“What did I sa—”

“Get out!” Roman snaps, volume and tone making her jump. He probably scared her. He also doesn’t care. He just wants her gone. And she does as such, walking away without another word of protest. 

Left alone, he tries to gather himself, moving back to his room.

So much for a fucking distraction.

 —----- 

Roman finds her out back on the patio. 

He needed to clear his head, get back into his tunnel vision focus, and the gym he had included when he built the house is the perfect place to do that. Two hours later, recentered and showered, he readies to call it a night. But, he realizes he probably shouldn’t do as such until he makes sure Solana is at least partially stable enough to be left alone. 

And she is. 

She’s laid out, sleeping on the rattan lounge chair, a closed notebook tucked into her side. Roman recognizes it as the same one she was writing in that day at the library as well as the one she used for her grocery list just earlier in the day. 

He settles down on the chair next to her, studying her. Even in her sleep, she looks….sad. And for the first time in the midst of all these strange experiences with her, Roman understands. He understands her sadness, understands her difficulty, understands the memories that clearly haunt her.

The same way they used to haunt him. 

His hand goes to his tatted arm, intricate tribal tattoo hiding permanent remnants of that night of hell. The night that he once had the same kind of night terrors about. 

Noticing the breeze, he walks back into the house, grabbing one of the throw blankets on the sofa. Roman is careful to not directly touch her as he lays it over her body. A part of him is tempted to carry her back to her room, but he remembers these kinds of nights. The kind where it’s a challenge to escape the memories, let alone find a place and mental space to turn your brain off enough to just sleep.

So he leaves her alone, allowing her to enjoy the only escape she clearly has in this life.

[xortstories]

Contrary Writing Advice: Tell, Don't Show

Wherein I give advice that runs contrary to commonly shared writing tips, because some short bits of advice get repeated without context until they become actively detrimental to the process.

Today, we're looking at a common adage: "Show, don't tell."

On the surface, this seems to be (and often can be) good advice. "Showing," in the context of writing, is all about description. Don't say "He was sad because he had to go to work", say "His shoulders were slumped and he walked with slow, trudging steps to his cubicle."

It paints a picture with words. It implies the sadness, allowing the reader to interpret it by picking up on the cues in the writing, thus increasing engagement in the story.

It's not always that simple, though. For the most basic problem, let's compare word counts. In the example given it's not that egregious—10 words for "telling" vs 14 words for "showing," but that's still a 1.4x increase to the word count of your book, and it could get much more than that. There is value in shorter, telling sentences. For starters, they break things up and can be used to punctuate the end of a sequence. Let's have an example paragraph, which we'll then try two final sentences for.

He desperately raised his shield as his foe rained down a series of heavy blows on him. Once, twice, three times the knight's mace collided with the shield, splintering the wood and driving him to his knees. His shoulder ached, and the shield began to fall low enough that his head would soon be exposed. Then, out of nowhere, another soldier—one of the many allies whose names and faces now bled from his mind as adrenaline washed away all conscious thought—appeared as if from nowhere, colliding with the knight and thrusting his dagger frantically at the weaker parts of his foe's otherwise impenetrable armor.

Probably not the best fight scene I've ever written, but it does the job of being a very strong example of "showing." Now let's look at two ways to follow up this paragraph.

#1: Showing

He turned, heedless of his ally's struggle, and dashed away. His heart pounded in his chest and he struggled to keep his shaking limbs steady, stumbling and faltering every few steps. The sounds of battle surrounded him, overloading his senses, and he narrowly avoided several errant strikes from others embroiled in conflict as he raced through the battlefield.

Again, not the best, but a pretty good paragraph. We'll talk more about it in a moment though, as now we're gonna look at a second followup:

#2: Telling

He ran for it, leaving the battlefield far behind him.

So, let's examine what each of these followups actually does for the story.

For starters, we need to consider what we want this scene to accomplish and how important it is. If this is meant to be a defining moment for the character, the culmination of several chapters of buildup where he trained for the upcoming battle, grew close to his allies, struggled with his fears and insecurities, and now in the heat of the moment loses his nerve?

Yeah, it might be worth it to drag things out and continue "showing" what he does.

But let's say instead that this, instead, is meant to be an establishing moment for an already-true fact about the character. Let's imagine that this is from the opening scene in a story that, we will soon learn, is about a cowardly soldier. The buildup of the main paragraph above sets up a suitably intense, epic fight scene. It paints the main character ambiguously, as someone who is fighting but unable to hold his own, but it leaves open the possibility that he'll join his ally and finish off the knight that was hammering him down.

And then comes the rug pull. Just when the reader expects the intense fight scene to continue, nope! He's running away. The short and to-the-point nature of "telling" what the character does there leaves things unambiguous and drives the idea home immediately. We see that the character is a coward, and that sudden rug-pull creates a great moment where the reader goes "Oh, I see. He's a coward."

Basically, it's a punchline. And a punchline has to be... punchy. You can't draw it out with sentences and sentences of "showing." You just "tell."

Let's also consider the fact that ending a long series of "showing" paragraphs with a short, simple "tell" can be a great way to transition out of a scene. It signals that that sensory feast is over, wraps it up and puts a bow on it, and lets the author move into another discrete chunk of writing.

"Telling" is also great to summarize boring, inconsequential parts of the story. If your book is about political machinations, where the draw is the characters going toe-to-toe with clever enemies in social scenarios, then it's totally fine—sometimes imperative, even—to just say "After three weeks of travel, where x, y, and z, happened, Bobson finally reached his destination."

I could go on, but this post is long enough already. Remember, the point isn't that "showing" is always bad, just that you need to understand the benefits of telling and know when it's best to do one or the other, because 100% of either does not make for a very good story.

Also I'll probably write more of these in the future. I've got plenty of beef with common writing tips.

If you like my posts, feel free to buy me a coffee!

And if you're interested in seeing what I'm working on, check out my Blood of Dragons master post!

[annaraebananawriter]

Day 1 - Stars

Hello all! I come bearing a new fic for a new ship week. This one (created by @starsanspolyweek) (which is also me) is for the Star Sans Poly ship! It's so fun to explore how much they mean to one another, and I thought about doing a ship week for them a few years back, but only got the courage and motivation to start it last year. So sorry about not posting anything for that one--I honestly just didn't get anything written. But this year I have!

I will try and update daily, though today is the only full day I have pre-written. The others are mostly a handful of words, or a blank page. We'll see how it goes.

Without a further ado, happy reading!!

Fandom: Undertale, but specifically UTMV

Characters: Dream (Who belongs to Joku), Blue  (Who belongs to P0pcornPr1nce) and Ink (Who belongs to Comyet)

Pairings: Star Sans Poly/Pre-Star Sans Poly

Warnings: None, actually, now that I think about it. Let me know!

Summary: "Dream is not mortal. His brother, Nightmare, is also not mortal. They are both gods. An incident in the past involving both of them forced the hand of the other gods to create a new rule: Mortals and Gods are not to interact, let one infect the other with knowledge they should not possess.

This rule becomes a problem when Dream becomes infatuated with two mortals, Ink and Blue."

Word Count: 4420

***

I went to the Garden of Love,

And saw what I never had seen:

***

The tree was always Dream’s favorite place to watch the stars. Nothing beat climbing up to the furthest branch, using skills built upon centuries of practice to get up with the ease and grace as a nimble forest animal would naturally have, using the same skills to balance there on a branch that would’ve cracked had he been anyone else.

Being so high up got him so close to the sky, so close he could almost feel the twinkling lights kissing him. He could spend hours there, crouched in the tree, staring up at the wonder most didn’t think twice of.

Correction: he has spent hours there. He often got so lost in the beauty of things that he forgot to return home, and so his brother would be forced to come and retrieve him. Though he’s often said to Nightmare to just let him be, and though his brother often agrees to do so, forever annoyed at having to leave their house for any reason, he is often going back on his word, there at the base of the tree to call him home before sunrise without fail, every night.

Tonight, it’s still early enough that he knows he has time to watch. He settles in, leaning against the trunk, eyes searching the sky for anything and nothing at the same time. If he were an artist, his fingers would itch with a drawing. If he were a writer, it would be a story or poem instead. He is neither, however, so instead all he does is look.

That is enough to content him.

Mostly.

He does sometimes wish he were more creative. Sure, he can sketch something and have it end up half-resembling the original idea, and he can string together a short story with a simple theme, but they both end up crude and childish. That’s not a bad thing overall, it just leaves him unsatisfied, forever envious of those who can do them.

It’s funny, really, that in all the centuries he’s been alive, he has never mastered the art of art. So many other things he can do with his eyes closed. Never art. The closest thing to it is baking, maybe gardening, both things he can do well enough. Healing might be considered an art in itself, but it’s not paint and words and colours and metaphors. It’s not something people will look at for years with awe, not something people will hang up on their walls or in galleries. It’s simply a skill to help others, as is his duty and job—the only thing he is ever frustrated by.

He doesn’t hate doing his job. No, he does enjoy helping people. It makes him smile when he can dry a child’s tears with some warm magic on the knee, or when he grants a miracle to a family who now needn’t worry about the cost of a funeral for someone so young. In fact, he prides himself on doing good, spreading laughter across the world. He loves the stories told of him, the kind way they portray him in artwork, and he’s flattered by the statues of him in temples. It’s all something he enjoys.

That doesn’t mean he can’t find it uncomfortable at times.

One of the very first things people decided about him was that he was never selfish. He was always working in favor of others, always, no matter the demand or price. As the people have sway over how the universe works, he is bound to this fact. He can never act for himself, not without it also benefiting others. In the beginning, he hadn’t minded this, naïve to there being a different way to live, but when he found out he was the exception to the general rule, he couldn’t help but find it unfair.

Yes, he is not mortal. That shouldn’t mean he cannot be as free as them.

He should not have to bend to their whim, pick up after their messes, make every tiny wish come true. He should not have to heal all their scraps, paper cuts to broken bones, and he should not have to drug them to feel happiness, his aura meant to be something soothing and helpful in a crisis, not something to get addicted to.

Through the years, he’s grown so irritated that the common belief about him is that he enjoys being seen as a slave. It is simply not true at all. He enjoys helping people, yes, but he does not enjoy how it is half of what people see when they look at him. He is so much more than that. He is the sun and the stars and the light of your home, the lightness in your chest. He is the pleasant morning breeze against your flushed skin as you close your eyes and bask in it. He is the relationship you have with your closest friends and family, the way they know you better than yourself, that unspoken trust that they will be there to hold you when you fall.

He is so much more than a helper.

Dream is a God.

Yet, the laws of the universe dictate that he never speak about his wants, for that would be ‘—blasphemy for suggesting that we have free will like the mortals. We do not. We serve Fate, and Fate tells us to serve the mortals, to act the part they want us to play.’

Nightmare is a stickler for the rules. He never used to be. He was once as dissatisfied with the role mortals gave him while he had not been able to see what he meant, too wrapped up in the glitz of attention. Time has seen that their roles flipped over. Now, Nightmare insists he remember the laws, remember the role he plays, the one both of them play. What happened all those years ago changed him so much…

Ah, but he rambles. As he always does when watching the stars.

It’s time to clear his mind, lean his head back against the bark and fall into his trance. Crickets are abound on the grassy floor of the hill below, providing a symphony as he follows his own instructions, stretching his leg out along the branch. On a whim, he plucks an apple out of the air, biting into it, letting the juice fill his mouth.

It makes him sigh, this simple act of savoring what he eats, especially since it’s not needed. It is something he wanted, and so it was something he did.

A small rebellion, if you wish to call it that.

Closing his eyes, he took another bite.

He should eat more often. It’s a pleasant experience, and the taste is amazing. This apple was just one of the many edible things out there, too. Perhaps he should try an orange next, or maybe one of those sweets he’s heard about. Something to consider the next time he comes to the tree to watch the stars, that’s for sure.

When he opens his eyes again to look at the sky, he finds himself looking at a face instead. Freezing like a deer caught in the hunter’s gaze, Dream looks at the face in front of him, eyes wide.

It belongs a skeleton monster, that much is obvious, and it’s eyelights do a curious thing he’s never seen before. They change. Shapes and colours, they change as the monster blinks, making him fascinated. He’s never met a monster whose eyes change colours. It’s intriguing to watch, and he wants to ask this monster how his eyes work. Does he pick the colours and shapes? Or do they just happen? Does he know his eyes change, or will the news surprise him?

And then he remembers the new law, instilled after Nightmare’s incident: Mortals and Gods are not to interact, let one infect the other with knowledge they should not possess.

Remembering it, and realizing this would count as a violation of the law, makes his eyes widen even further, something in his stomach churning uncomfortably. He starts to panic, thinking of the repercussions of this act is found out, how it will affect Nightmare, since the universe is much more willing to blame any fault of his onto his brother.

The apple slips from his hand as his grip loosens.

The mortal catches the apple before it falls too far to salvage. “Hello!” The mortal says, grinning. His eyes change again, distracting Dream from his panic for a few moments. There’s an ink splotch on his cheek. Is he aware of it? “What brings you all the way up here?”

“Um…” Dream says, and then his panic returns, engulfing his line of thought. Automatically, he tugs at his magic, giving it the order to teleport him out of this interaction before he gives away more than he should.

Unfortunately, he does think of a destination along with the order, so he blinks and finds himself falling, having only teleported below where he was sitting, in a space without any branches to catch himself with. The beginning of a scream escapes him before he manages to wrench his mouth shut. It’ll do no good to draw even more attention to himself, not now. The best he can do is keep quiet and begin to teleport again.

Before he can give the order, he is caught, his hand instinctively clenching the fabric of a shirt. Blinking once, then twice, he breathes heavily as it sinks in that if he was caught that means…he looks up at the face of another mortal, another skeleton monster at that, who is looking down at him with concern, checking that he is alright.

Then, his face changes, jaw clenching, and the mortal looks up at the tree. “Ink! You were supposed to ask him why he was up there, not scare him into falling!” The mortal shouts up at the other one.

Ink, Dream thinks. How fitting, considering the splotch of the substance on his cheek.

The mortal who caught him does not have the changing eyelights of his companion, but that does not mean they are any less fascinating. They are blue, a bright blue that almost seems to glow, contrasted by the darkness that surrounds them. It’s a trick, he knows that—and really, the only eyelights that can glow are his own, a tell that he is not as mortal as everyone else—but it still makes his heart skip a beat.

Sounds of leaves being shaken come from above their heads, and they watch the other mortal—Ink—hop down. At first, the height he jumps from makes Dream panic, a feeling echoed from the mortal whose arms he was still in. Or maybe that feeling came first and he was the one that echoed it. Emotions were vague, that way. Landing perfectly fine, though with a bit of a stumble, Ink does not feel regret for making them worry, instead just laughs at them.

“I didn’t mean to, honest!” Ink says, grinning first at his companion, then looking down at Dream, blinking. His eyes change again: two question marks, different colours. “I gotta say, it’s weird that you got down here so quickly. I mean, I know you fell, but still. I didn’t hear any branches break or anything. The only leaves on the ground are from me.”

He’s observant. How terrible. Not only will he have to scramble for an excuse to leave as soon as possible, praying that he makes it home before anyone can get suspicious, he will have to find a way to avoid these questions.

The companion answers before he finds any words. “Don’t be silly, Ink, he just fell. That’s it. There’s nothing different about him.” He says the words pointedly, as if referring to something only the two of them understand. What were they talking about?

No, no, don’t ponder that!

Just go home.

Except he’s still in the mortal’s arms, and now he’s been in them so long, it feels too awkward to ask him to set him on his feet. That is the only reason he hasn’t moved, he tells himself, and nothing to do with the fact that it’s comfy here.

Ink scoffs, throwing Dream’s apple in the air and catching it. He takes a bite out of the other side, opposite from where his marks were. For whatever reason, the fact that this mortal is eating his food makes his cheeks burn. “You don’t know that. I’m telling you, there’s something off about him! Something…magical.”

His companion—he really must discover his name—shakes his head. He feels exasperated. Obviously, they have had many conversations like this. “Magic doesn’t exist.”

Unable to stop himself in time, Dream flinches. To proclaim that magic does not exist in front of a God, a being comprised of and birthed from the rawest form of magic, knowing you were in the presence of one or not…well, that hurts. It’s like someone denying a piece of you exists, no matter how much proof is written down, how many times you explain it to scholars and historians. It’s like they shake their head, telling you that you are the uneducated one, and referring you to a handful of resources that provide all the reasons as to why, exactly, you’re wrong about yourself.

Ink sees this flinch. “Ah, but he flinched when you said that! Why would he flinch unless you wounded him personally?” Grinning in triumph, he walks closer, standing in front of them with his hands on his hips. There is a small bit of apple stuck on the corner of his mouth. “Perhaps it’s time to ask the man himself. What say you, Magician? How do you explain traveling such a distance in such a short time?”

As the mortals wait for an answer, Dream swallows.

The only way to get out of this is to lie, which goes against everything that he is; God of Honesty and all that. Which is different from truth, yes, but it still holds the same restrictions. He cannot lie here, not fully. But there are many ways to lie and perhaps he can use that to his advantage by taking a page out of Nightmare’s book: avoidance and omission.

Yes, this will work. Or else he risks all of them being in trouble.

“Uh…” Dream says, swallowing again as he draws on his courage to raise his eyes to meet Ink’s. The changing eyelights are trained on him with unwavering attention. Clearing his throat, Dream tilts his head, pushing a curious expression to fall over his face. “Your eyelights change, did you know that? I’ve never met someone like that before.”

It’s a very clear avoidance, much like seeing someone you don’t want to talk to, making eye contact with them even, and deliberately turning and walking right back where you came from. Ink doesn’t call him out on it, though, instead just hums. “I see, I see. You want to keep your secrets. I guess I can respect that. A magician never tells, correct?”

“They’re very pretty to watch,” Dream continues as if he hadn’t replied.

Ink stares at him some more before shrugging. “Alright, Magician, keep your secrets. Maybe you’ll tell me your trick one day.” Now that his topic seems to be finished, he smiles, putting on a show of blinking and unveiling the brand-new eyelights. “Thank you! They are my second-best trait, if I do say so myself.”

Dream blinks. “Second-best?”

“Yes,” Ink laughs, eyes scrunching up. New eyelights appear. “They’re fine, but I’m used to them by now. It doesn’t excite me as much as it seems to excite you.” Sending him a wink, he reaches into his satchel, which is sat on the ground on a blanket he had been too preoccupied to notice before now. There are other things scattered on the blanket, a few snacks, and a telescope aimed up at the sky.

Finding what he’s looking for, Ink holds a notebook in front of him. “But these are much more interesting. I say this with modesty, of course. I would never proclaim myself one of the greatest artists of my generation.” With a hand on his heart, and a grin on his face to say how he really feels, he offers the notebook to Dream, who reaches out to accept the notebook but falters, remembering he is still in the arms of the other mortal.

Isn’t he tired yet? His arms must be aching by now. He is not a light God, certainly would not come across as a light mortal. But the mortal doesn’t appear to really notice him in his arms, content to stand as long as needed. Still, even knowing he wouldn’t mind holding him for a while yet, it feels like he’s being mean by taking a notebook to look through, lounging in the arms like it was his idea. Certainly, if he does this, he would come across as selfish, and as already established, this is something he cannot do.

But how to explain such things to a mortal…?

Ink seems to notice his dilemma, and he smirks at his companion. “Are you going to hold him all night, Blue, or are you going to allow him to stand on his own two feet again? I’m sure you’ve had plenty of time to make sure he was uninjured.”

His companion—Blue, Dream thinks to himself. How appropriate, with eyelights the essence of the word itself—jumps as if just remembering he is, in fact, holding someone in his arms.

“Oh, I am so sorry! I didn’t think to—I didn’t mean to—I’m so sorry.” He doesn’t seem to know how to explain himself, stuttering and starting over as he sets Dream on his feet. When he looks back at him, Blue is blushing, flushed from his neck up, the colour just as bright as his eyelights as it glows. Ink is laughing in front of them, not even trying to hide it.

Dream smiles, laughs a little himself, patting him on the shoulder. “If it helps any, your arms are quite comfortable.”

Blue’s blush deepens. “Thanks.”

Taking the notebook from Ink, he first runs his fingers over the cool sensation of the leather cover. He’s unable to tell what colour it is exactly, too much of the pigment sucked into the darkness that surrounds them—which reminds him of another problem. “It’s too dark to see your art.”

Ink looks up at him as he plops himself down onto the blanket. He’s still eating Dream’s apple. “Ah, right. Forgot it was night.” Laughing at himself, he shrugs. “I guess you’ll just have to borrow it and wait till morning to look at it.”

Blue frowns at Ink, having walked around Dream and is fiddling with the telescope. “You’re giving it away? You never give your sketchbook away.”

With those words, Dream’s hand stills, fingers hovering in the air, a hair width away from the cover. Never? What made him so special, then?

It seems that’s Blue’s question as well, the one not spoken aloud. Ink shrugs again, answering both of them at the same time. “I’m not giving it away forever. It’s not like he’s just going to keep it.” Pausing, he looks at Dream, appearing for the first time this night nervous. “Are you?”

Dream shakes his head. “Of course not! I understand how important your art is to you artists. I would never steal it from you.”

“Right.” Gesturing at Dream, Ink continues talking to Blue, “See? I’m not giving it away. I’m letting someone borrow it.”

“Yes, but you never do that either.”

“There’s a first for everything.”

Silence rings in the air as both companions fall silent. He cannot help but feel that an unspoken conversation was just had with those few words, a conversation he is not even somewhat aware of. Like Ink said—a first for everything. What did they talk about? Was it about him? Must’ve been. Was he really that important to them?

Oh no, he didn’t interrupt anything, did he? Is he ruining something by lingering here? Well, he is, but is he ruining something for the mortals, too?

It’s best he leaves, quickly now, before—

“Are you going to sit down, Magician?”

Blinking out of his worries, Dream clutches the book to his chest. “Pardon?”

Ink tilts his head back, looking at him upside down. “Are you going to sit down, join us? I promise you; we don’t bite.” Another pause. “Not unless we have to.”

Blue smacks his arm. “Ink!”

Ink laughs, the sound beautiful, filling the quiet as if it was always meant to be there. “What? Just telling the truth. You really have nothing to be afraid of, I swear it. We’re out here to test run Blue’s telescope, that’s all—he built it himself, you see.”

Mouth opening in surprise, Dream draws closer, inspecting the telescope. It’s true. It’s made out of a mixture of wood and metal. If he reaches a hand out to touch the barrel, he runs the risk of getting a blister. Despite this, it is pretty, the rough wood a nice texture, the cool metal that frames the edges, that makes up the legs and the viewing port a nice difference, a good compliment. He cannot see too many details—again, too dark—but he can tell that a lot of work was put into it.

Shifting his gaze, he finds Blue’s gaze. “It’s amazing. How did you build it?”

Shrugging, gaze dropping back to his fiddling, Blue mumbles. “It’s nothing special, really…just wanted to make something to look closer at the stars…”

Beside him, Ink groans. “Don’t be silly, Blue.” Scooting over, he leans against Dream’s back, his breath warming the side of his skull as he whispers into where his ear would be if he was based on a human. “I keep telling him not to be so modest. It never sticks.” Getting louder, he leans forward even more, pointing at Blue and his telescope. “You built it to prove to your classmates that you didn’t get into school by chance. You built it because you knew you could. You built it with your heart, with determination—that’s how you built it.”

It seems Blue is unused to so many compliments in a row, the flush creeping back in, but Dream can tell that this is a proud flush, not an embarrassed one. “Bit more to it than that, but I suppose…and I can tell that I need to change the glass—I don’t think this was the correct cut. I need to change other things a bit, too, as it’s not zooming in as much as I want it to…” The longer he speaks, the more confident he gets, the more relaxed. He is in his comfort zone now, talking about his telescope, about the intricacies of it.

As he rambles, Dream glances over his shoulder to Ink, finding him looking at Blue with a smile far gentler than his grins were. This one, he can tell, is only used for moments like this, looking at someone he loves. Oh, how much he loves Blue…the emotion is like flying up into the sky, being among all the stars, all the lights, and closing your eyes and letting yourself fall, the euphoria in letting go.

It makes Dream’s essence pulse in tandem, like a heart skipping a beat.

However, in doing this, it reminds him of how different he is to these mortals. Why he puts them all in danger the longer he stays.

If Nightmare were to catch him like this…it would not be worse than the others, but it would mean being on lockdown. He would not be able to go anywhere without his brother breathing down his back, watching his every move, through his own eye or one of his familiars’. His brother is paranoid, afraid of what the others have done. If he sees this, he will worry that the others have as well, that the same thing that happened to him will happen to Dream…

He should leave. He should leave, right now.

But…

Tuning out of the conversation, Dream looks down at the book in his hands, runs his fingers over the leather, feeling an indentation where Ink has carved his name.

Ink has given him his sketchbook, obviously a weighted responsibility with the way they were talking earlier. Then there’s Blue and his telescope, which he built from the ground up with his own two hands, and the way lying in his arms was so comforting—he wants to know everything about them both. Why build things? Why draw things? Why create things?

These two mortals are the first ones he’s spoken to in a long, long time. Since before Nightmare’s incident and the law was fashioned. He wants to know how things have changed from last time, how much progress they’ve made as a society—he has heard of an Industrial Revolution, would like to know about it from the eye of mortals, maybe even see the changes it had made for himself. He longs for it, an ache in his bones that he cannot ignore any longer, has so many questions and two people able to answer these questions sitting so close to him.

It's dangerous to stay…but it would be terrible to leave.

The mortals deemed him selfless, to never act for himself. They might have had good intentions at first, but they quickly grew greedy with their order and wishes, and the gift turned into a curse, a prison. He has spent so long behind these bars, watching mortals grow close with one another, watched the others dictate the laws of the universe like they were the only deciding factor of it. He has watched mortals revolt tyranny all on their own, watched them write into their laws time after time some version of free will, that everyone has the right to be who they are, all of themselves, without judgement, without prohibition.

Perhaps the same can be true of a God…

Perhaps the same can be true of him.

There is a first for everything, and so Dream decides to try and be selfish, sitting down on the blanket to stay in the mortals’ company for a little while longer.

[amethystfairy1]

hi I'm back again already lol, bc u really ought to know all the great things about ttsbc that I was too lazy to write out last time lmao.

Also! totally fine that ur not doing skizzpulse, you should write what inspires/motivates you (personally very motivated by them xD I've written ~90k words of skizzpulse myself rip)

Anyways, good things! You! you're the good things! I honestly can't remember when I last sent an ask in for the lil guys, so I'm just gonna say something I loved about each of their recent arcs.

First, Treebark. There's been so many identity reveals but I think this has been my favorite thus far. Ren going all protective boyfriend and fighting over Martyn was SO GOOD, plus soft kisses and they can just hold hands now without Ren being afraid he'll figure it out. Also loved Martyn seducing his entire family while being terrified out of his mind by big dog people with knives, like, I'd be a little out of it too. but the fam doesn't even notice but Ren did and is all supportive and comforts him, offers to take him home. I love how well they can read each other, like they're just in tune. they're soulmates, your honor. and, AND this means we can have double dates where they all know now! so excited :)))))

Zedango. this is what started me reading your stuff (the first fic I ever wrote was actually my own tt zedango ficlet, btw. that feels like an eternity ago now) I love how they've simultaneously progressed and devolved into slightly unhealthy relationship territory. something about not everything being perfect all the time just adds so much depth and realism to their relationship, as well as keeping the plot tense without feeling like you're making up problems just to have something to write about. AND THEN Tango doing the blazeborn courtship rituals was just so aaaaaaaa (THEY"RE SO ADORBSABLEEE) Tango setting aside his disgust with his claws to take care of Zed even tho its uncomfortable for him, and then Zed recognizing that and having all the warm fuzzy fondness for his bf was so sweet. Doc's notes about the rituals were on point, with how he reassures Tango that they're normal, healthy things and saying he's always open to having a conversation about it. (tho, i doubt Tango's ever taken him up on that offer lmao)

The other fic that's been in my head is ur most recent one, Handshakes and Headaches. I highly doubt we'll get a cub reveal in this next chapter, but ig we'll see soon enough. I loved how Cub just knew instantly that Grian was a hybrid and was just going in spirals putting it together that he was cuteguy, then him coming to the wrong conclusion about whether Scar knew, too, was just perfect. Tho, if he did think Scar knew and was cool with it, I wonder what he'd do first? Tell Scar his own secret, guess Grian's secret in front of them? I feel like he would think the safe thing would be to confront Scar about Grian being Cuteguy, and then if/when Scar admits it and says he's cool with it, Cub would feel safe(r) revealing his own identity. Maybe not right away, but sometime. Also, that would mean everyone in Hot Cave knows about hybrids and undercity, so he wouldn't have to glamor while he works (tho, that would also require revealing to Zed... they don't seem super close, but it's kinda obvious that Zed's chill w/ the undercity people, considering he's dating Tango and Cub knows that).

Also! now that Hypno knows G and Scar are safe, I really wanna see him revealing to Scar and Scar being all supportive and stuff :)))) Hypno wasn't someone I knew I needed in this world, but I'd die for him now. (ALSO the casual mention that his scales are dry and flaky rather than smooth and taken care of??? Hello?????? Someone get him some proper self-care ASAP, maybe take him swimming at a private pool or something idk. I feel like the moment Scar knows, he's going to be on it with the cookies and love and support. so excited hehehe)

anyways, I'm probably forgetting something, but whatever. I'll be back with more art soon (maybe I draw Hypno, since I've never done that before and electric eel hybrid sounds cool. Actually, I've decided, I'm gonna do it now. remind me what that looks like pls? or I go reread, whichever happens faster lol)

Ok that's all, have a good day!

I LOVE THE RAMBLESSSSS

Petition to get Hypno a private pool 😆

I'm so glad you love the slightly unhealthy but also very loving Zedango situation we have going on!

I LOVED YOUR TT ZEDANGO FIC! I'M STILL WAITING FOR THE SEQUEL!!!! 😭 /j you don't have to write one if you don't wanna BUT KNOW THAT I LOVED IT!

Ren being a protective boyfriend is all I need sometimes! It's just good fun! Thank you so much for telling all about everything!!!

I would actually LOVE to see how you would design Hypno if you do feel like drawing him! That sounds amazing! Electric Eel hybrid time!!!! 💖

[acourtofthought]

Is High Lady a legitimate position? or was that just made up to make Feyre legitimately the most powerful fae (like her mate)? Does being a high lady require a different set of socio-political functions than any lady in Prythian? Or are they just ladies in positions of power who are really really powerful?

Also, should Elucien be the main couple in the next book, how do you want SJM to explore other courts since Lucien is connected to a lot of them?

Lastly, idk if you answered this but what attributes from Feysand and Nessian made you shy away from them becoming high king and queen? After seeing your posts about characteristics of Elucien that make them suitable to rule, I'd like to hear more from you!

This is not a hater question if you ship the canon couples. Hope you have a great day.

High Lady was a legitimate position at one point though it seems to have fallen out of favor as of late, probably because certain "dictator-like" High Lords who wed had / have the mentality that their wives are not their equals (i.e. Beron, Rhys's father).

I imagine the way Sarah has written it is that High Lady is different than other Lady's in society in that they are the rulers of a court. They share in the same decision making process / voice of authority for a court that a High Lord would. I actually think it has less to do with power and more to do with being the ones to set the laws, where those who work for them are expected to follow their orders when they do issue commands (a sometimes necessary thing).

Where their purpose is to ensure the safety and well being of their people.

As for as Elucien exploring other courts, I feel like Spring is where they'd spend a good bit of time because Spring is the court that needs the most work. The people have been ignored, the land is beginning to die and it's army is something the NC needs as an ally (not to mention a strong force against Beron).

Day I think they'll travel to in order to learn more about Elain's powers.

I think Autumn will be where they visit after Beron is defeated so Lucien can reconnect with his mother.

The human lands to meet with Jurian after Vassa is forced to return, I think we'll also see Elain finally put Graysen in his place.

Feysand are decent enough leaders.... To the Night Court. Everything they do is to protect the people of Velaris (not even so much other territories there) and while it can't be denied that they do love their citizens, they have proven they are willing to use the people of other courts as collateral to prioritize their goals.

Yes, they fought for all fae and humans during the war but Rhys's first priority during Amarantha’s reign was Velaris. Feyre was willing to displace innocent people in Spring in order to get revenge on Tamlin.

So while they do often care for many, they are still willing to sacrifice them at other times. A High King and High Lady will not make good rulers if they're already showing favoritism.

Nessian, I think it's a bit of the same not to mention Cassian is clearly uncomfortable with the political game which is territory being in charge comes with, like it or not. Nesta does fight for others but that character trait typically comes out only when she sees someone truly in need of a fighter and only when she deems it to be something truly unjust. I.e., she did speak up in the High Lords meeting but only after Beron declared the meeting was over. And Feyre initially asked her to tell her story during the meeting and Nesta refused. Nesta is a lot nicer to those she considers weak than those who are equal to her or more powerful. And she chose to ignore the people of Velaris after the war, choosing instead to drink and gamble for a year. I'm not faulting her for that, I understand she was depressed. But I think someone who is a leader tries to move forward and focuses on the needs of the people rather than letting themselves get sucked into themselves. It's kind of why Tamlin isn't the best leader, he let his depression overtake the needs of his court.

But Elain, after losing her father and Graysen and her humanity helped the fae in Velaris rebuild their gardens after the war even though we know she was still struggling. She made an effort to learn what fae traditions meant to them though she grew up fearing their kind. She became invested in the people rather than focusing on her losses. Her personality makes it possible for have decent a relationship with all personality types versus her her sisters who at times come off as combative towards others.

And Lucien? Though he's loyal, we've also been shown that he cares about the needs of the many. People get so caught up on how he didn't do more for Feyre but that's because to him there were many who also needed something. The people of spring, it's High Lord being able to help the court get back on its feet. Not to mention his choosing to help the humans rebuild after the war and sort out their politics. His willingness to help the NC.

Lucien doesn't have blind loyalty to just one place, he cares about many and to me, that is the kind of personality that would make for a fair and just High King.

[beevean]

Some other thoughts, because I cannot and will not shut up.

This is Hector and Isaac's very second scene in the show. Hector ends up staring at Dracula's fireplace: he reminisces of his abusive parents, and how he set his house on fire with them inside. This immediately tells us, along with Dracula's speeches, what kind of person Hector is: despite his apparent softness that we'll see later on, he can be ruthless enough to kill, or at the very least punish, those who have wronged him.

Much later, Hector has been brought to the lowest point of his life. He's listening as the woman he has given his heart to is gleefully humiliating him in front of her sisters, describing in detail how he's going to be treated as a tool, as a dildo, as a pet, and only because he trusted the wrong person. Multiple times, in fact. He has been hurt by one too many people.

And by the time Hector's fate is sealed, the fireplace acts as the framing.

Basic cinematic symbolism indicates that Hector's backstory would be become relevant in the next season. As a child, he killed his abusers. And now he's in the clutches of two other people who abused his trust and good nature and stripped him of all freedom and dignity.

So, was Hector meant to set the entire castle on fire, and kill Carmilla and Lenore for what they did to him? And then it was changed to make the season artificially happier? Would it have been the narratively more sensible course of action?

Well, not necessarily. As fun as it is to imagine Hector taking revenge on those two pieces of shit, subversion of expectations can still be done well. And, to be fair, while Hector did kill his parents and is certainly not above murder in general, he seems to not be inherently violent in nature, even against someone who hurt him:

Carmilla has lied to him, insulted him, and coerced him into indirectly killing his master. He still speaks to her very candidly.

From what was shown until S3, Hector needs to be pushed to his absolute limit before he starts considering violence, but once he does, he has no mercy. The most obvious proof is his disastrous attempt to threaten Lenore:

Yeah, as ill thought as this was, I don't blame him for being this desperate, after the torture he was recently put through. From a certain perspective, it would have been nice to see a recreation of this scene, but with a Hector acting smarter, having learned from his mistakes.

However, to be honest, I don't think that seeing such a gentle character being brought to horrific violence would have been cathartic. It would have been tragic. It would have been actually a bad thing, a reason to be scared and to pity him. And it still wouldn't have addressed his utter apathy when it comes to keeping humans in a cage: hell, that act would have made him as bad as Isaac in S3.

With that being said, I will never, ever, accept how he was written after that scene.

I'm going to use an excellently written show to talk about the difference between taking the high road, and forgiveness.

Our good horseman here has been abused since infancy by his utter monster of a mother, who delighted in making him feel guilty for daring to be alive. Long story short, she is now old, weak, and senile to the point where she can't recognize him anymore. Bojack is planning to finally vent all of his anger for all she did to him, as soon as she's lucid enough - and who could blame him? By this point, no one would shed a tear for a woman who did her very best to ruin her son's life. Hell, some might have cheered when he more or less bullied her by "killing" her doll. No mercy for an abuser, right?

However, in a brilliant display of foreshadowing, the audience is made to suspect that Bojack won't actually get to tell his mother off. He already wasted the seasonal F-bomb here! And there are no freebies. So what's going to happen? Will Bojack simply be prevented from finally facing the woman who ruined his life, deprived by outside circumstances of the catharsis he needs?

No. He does it himself.

Right when he has Beatrice where he wants, in a terrible retirement home and finally lucid enough to recognize her son... right after she has committed her last unforgivable act and secretly poisoned Hollyhock with appetite suppressants until she overdosed... Bojack chooses to not hurt her.

He could have. She would have listened to him. The viewers would have understood. But instead, the last moment Bojack could talk with his mother is used to soothe her confusion and fear, and give her a comforting vision where she can feel loved and like everything is alright.

Bojack is not one to do selfless acts without getting anything in return, and he doesn't know anything about her terrible past that we viewers have witnessed through the episode that explain why she was so bitter towards her son: so this act of pity towards the person he hates the most in his life speaks wonders of his character and growth.

But he did not forgive her. The entirety of Free Churro is dedicated to Bojack's painful eulogy of Beatrice, where he makes clear that he still resents her, and the only reason he's sorry for her death is that now he knows that he has lost the chance to have a good relationship with the one who was supposed to care about him.

Beatrice was shown wanting to reconnect with Bojack, almost as an apology. But even if her personality didn't got in the way of a proper reconcilement, nothing she could have done would have made up for the pain she caused Bojack, and he's right in still remembering her as a cruel person. But still, we remember that one moment of kindness he gave her as one of the most powerful scenes in a powerful story, for the build-up and for the significance it has for both characters.

Bojack Horseman did a wonderful job in exploring the complicated feelings that arise from being a victim of abuse. It's not just hatred and desire for revenge: there is a deeper connection, and care despite everything, and regret, and longing, and wishful thinking, and all sorts of uncomfortable feelings that are hard to explain to someone on the outside.

Needless to say that Netflixvania only wishes it could have reached the heights of Bojack Horseman, and Hector is not conflicted about Lenore. He's not anything. He shows no tension when he talks with her as if they were friends (it's the very first scene we see with them after Hector cried over being made a slave in S3); he shows no resentment when he talks about the ring that she forced on him to make him a useful tool, as he was a mere "problem to be solved"; his one attempt to address what Lenore did to him is brushed off as a sick joke that he takes in stride; he shows no confusion in his attempts to reconcile the Lenore who talks to him like someone worthy of respect with the Lenore who sadistically took advantage of his vulnerability to trap him. And needless to say, Lenore doesn't exactly get a good justification as to why she thought to resort to rape by deception to get her way, leaving fans to scramble to find one that still leaves her sympathetic enough.

It's only when Isaac storms the castle that Hector finally shows the slightest twinge of resignation when he cages Lenore to allow him to do his thing, but also to protect the woman who apparently protected him as well. Only now there is emotion in his voice, care and regret at the same time. Once more, much like Alucard killing Dracula, it's a big emotional payoff to nothing - worse than nothing, even.

Hector leaving Lenore alive, even protecting her from Isaac, could have been him taking the high road. Instead of going on a rampage like subtly implied by the framing, he could have shown her pity, for understanding that for all her cruelty and manipulation, she too was just a pawn in Carmilla's insane scheme (admittedly the parallel intended by the narrative, but not addressed enough). It would have fit with the general idea that revenge is for children (the development that was given to Isaac), and perhaps, in a way, we can consider it the fitting punishment for Lenore: being precisely being forced to live and see what exactly she has become. If written well, the subversion of the revenge ending could have been brilliant, and poignant.

But there's nothing there, except some shallow banter wasted on Carmilla and dick jokes and some flat voice acting. There is no inner turmoil. Hector just likes Lenore for no proper reason, which, if we pretend the writing was not a rushed mess, implies that he forgave her off screen and now everything is all peachy between them. As if what Lenore did was that easy to forgive. And if it was that easy, regardless of whether it was forgivable or not, then why should I be impressed?

It doesn't speak of Hector's supposed good nature. It's not an admirable act of strength. The choice to let go was not pondered, because it was apparently never a choice. We are eventually left with a nothing narrative, one that doesn't address the events of the previous season except in the form of a joke, one that doesn't allow the characters to grow but rather to regress (because remember, Hector's big badass moment of trapping Lenore and cutting his finger is in the context of him wanting to bring back Dracula and letting himself be killed by Isaac), one that doesn't explore the complicated relationship between a kind mistress and her well-treated pet that was deceived into imprisonment, and one that offers no catharsis whatsoever when it comes to the end, where Lenore kills herself out of nowhere and Hector lets her go after at most one second of hesitation (I have my idea on how that scene should have went - oh look, another comparison with BH :P). And we're left with accidental but vile apologism, instead of the nuanced tale about abuse that we could have had. It would have been so easy, even with the time restraints.

And it wasn't even intentional. It's just sloppy writing hailed as something deeper than it actually is.

(I keep reading in the comment people who gush about Hector showing compassion to Lenore, instead of comparing Carmilla lying to her to Lenore lying to him. I get the parallel and I get the superficial sweetness. This story should not have happened after petty rape by deception: remove that, and all the bonding suddenly makes sense. I want to fix it so badly.)

[thewordworrier]

Current WIPs - September 2024

It has been an actual year since I did one of these and considering the fact that I literally just finished (and posted) a fic last night/in the early hours of this morning, I figured that it might be an idea to look at what I've got in the GoogleDocs.

Let's see. First I should probably note that anything I call any document here will be a working title. I very very very rarely share final titles until I hit the publish/post button. I like to keep some secrets. Uh... Normally I'd talk about the Big Files first and then touch on the smaller ones. Although there isn't that many smaller files nowadays. But I think today we'll just go by things as I remember them. Most of the time, my Big Files are only that way because I cannot end fics for love nor money. I create these worlds and then don't want to leave them.

Okay then! On we go! This might be a long one.

I have three, maybe four Vampire based fics. I'm an MCR writer, of course I do.

~ Vampire AU the First

In which Lux, Mikey and Gerard are vampires. Mikey has moved with the times and Gerard’s a little stuck in the past. Lux was a modern day Human until she was recently turned and Shelly is a Human.

This file is one of my long ones; about 40k. This is the AU in which my OTPtober 2022 - Insecurity piece is set. I haven't dipped into this one for a little while, but I enjoy this world. ~ Reverse!Vampire AU

In which Shelly is our Vampire, Mercy is her Human familiar and Gerard is a struggling artist.

About 37k. Again, not one I've touched for a little while but, again, one I enjoy. Gerard being the not-vampire isn't as common in ths fandom, in my opinion. That might be why I enjoy this one when I'm in it. ~ VAU4 (because 3 got published)

Gerard is vampire royalty, and Shelly appears to be a regular Human who finds herself in the wrong place at the wrong time.

This one is less than 15k and a little bit fragmented, which is probably why it's not that long. Slightly different relationship dynamics here too, a less friendly start between the girls. So that's fun. For the final vampire based fic, I'm gonna copy the paragraph from the last post because it amuses me and is stll true:

I ALSO have something labelled as Vampires&Werewolves AU, which… Seems very Twilight, putting the two creatures against each other with a Human in the middle, but… Also, not Twilight because there’s no fucking sparkling.

This fic a baby - it's only like 10k.

What's next? Let's stick with the paranormal. ~ The Succubus Fic

In which Shelly is a succubus and Gerard is her… Victim?

This one is labelled as a “fic” instead of an AU because I do not want it to get as long as some of my other files. This one is about 15k and could maybe end where it is and have parts added later on but... I'm not sure. I haven't touched it for a little while. ~ the Supernatural Beings AU Vampires, werewolves, witches and wizards, oh my! This one is about 30k so that's how much fun I'm having there. ~ the Normal AU That is, the regular, run of the mill, there is a band, this is their career, fics. This is spread across like, 5 different GoogleDocs (at least) so I can't really give you a wordcount, though it is my biggest project. I'm working on all those milestones (like the engagement and the wedding, because, hello?!) but they take time. Even if I do have like 80% of Shelly and Gerard's story all written in my head. There are so, so many words here. So many little situations and... So. Much. There's a smut scene in one of these files that... Lord above. Like... SiR! (I wrote that one in a hospital walk in waiting room too.) ~ The Danger Days fic aka The Sandbox Fic Another AU spread across several files, but I think it's all about... 30k? so far? Then again, about 10k of that is a smutty chapter... Lead up, the action, wrapping up the scene. It's all... Can you call it a spin off? of my Wife’s Danger Days fic, picking up a little after where that left off so I could throw Shelly into that world. ~ The Tamarin Inspired Situation 20k ish. An excuse to write more threesome-ish stuff after dabbling in the next listing. If you look up Tamarin breeding stuations, you'll learn more about the scenario I was going for. ~ The CollegeAU - also known as the PolyCollegeAU This started out as me attempting to write a threesome, BEFORE the Birthday Fic happened. It ended up in timeout for a long time because Frank wouldn’t behave, thus making the inevitable choice between the two really hard! And then, along comes my wonderful wife and is all OKAY BUT WHAT IF and boom, it came out of time out and gained… A lot of words. And turned into a poly-relationship situation. I thinkkkkk I had the intention/s of throwing a little light dom/sub play in there too. And I think there's a scene or two where Shelly and Frank talk about pegging. So that's fun! It's about 32k currently. ~ The Nameless Fic. Another 15k ish file, and this one is definitely a bit more out of left field for me. It's a bit more angsty despite what the subtitle/working title suggests. I know where I'm going with this one I just have to tweak some stuff to write it the way I want it. ~ The Half Baked Idea About 10k and has more of a series of plot points. It’s a little ✨mystical✨ and supernatural but because there's not much more to it than a few chapters and some notes, I don't know where I'm going with it. ~ It’s A Compliment I Swear I wrote the ending for this in July 2022. It’s… 😬 Yeah. I might get in trouble for that ending. I'm very close to just creating a bulletpoint list of what I wanted to cover in between where I ended it and how we get to the last few chapters I ended up writing and just posting that.

Other, smaller files ~ The Sugar Baby AU ~ PopStar!Shelly ~ The Stripper!Gerard fic ~ a HighSchool AU or two. ~ my first VampireAU that I'm probably not gonna go back to, but I stole my own lore from it for the others I write. ~ Taylor Swift fic drabbles.

I thinkkkkkk that's it. I might be missing one or two things, but you can only scroll through GoogleDocs so many times before your eyes glaze over, you know? I might've mentioned something in the older post that I didn't mention here. Anything else is probably just a file of maybe a page of notes and not actual writing.

[ladythornofrivia]

Endless Reds and Blues

Pair: Kakucho x Reader (Ran x Reader)

Warning: Slight toxic dialogue.

A/N: I apologize for the lack of posting stuff here on the site. I'm having a hard time lately. I just want to give up. For the people who support me when no one could, thank you so much. It means the world to me. I hope you enjoy this chapter--I haven't written this series forever! Sorry I took so long to post a fanfic. I wish I could’ve done better and faster when it comes to writing—like I got everything down from start to finish with the plot, but, trying to overcome my problems in life. Thank you for your patience. ❤️

(Please report if someone decides to steal/plagiarize my story. And notify me. Thank you.)

Chapter 6: So Heartfelt and Vulnerable

As you we're having a deep talk with your friend, the part of the sandwich fell off on your lap, dripping the sauce.

Himiko placed the napkin. You thanked her and wiped the substance.

"This is pretty good, considering how the sandwich fell off. The should be careful on what they put here. Dry food can be wet real quick."

"Or how they carelessly stuff it down without thinking about consequences on carrying it. So what are you doing after school? I was thinking we should go to the karaoke."

Yow swallowed in fear. "I'm not sure...I have other plans. I'll let you know when I'm available."

"This new place by Shibuya is crazy good. The service and the food and drinks are great," Himiko insisted. "And so many cute guys passing by."

"I can't."

"What if there's a guy that looks like Leonardo DiCaprio? I've seen tourists going here. Maybe I'll find him."

You shook your head. "Thanks. But if the actual Leonardo DiCaprio is there, let me know."

"I'll even try to ask him if I have to."

Shaking your head, you said, "Become a Hollywood actress, then tell Leonardo that I requested him to date me. Maybe I want to be in a Titanic movie, starring me and him. Although Kate Winslet is better for him than me, actually."

Himiko slapped your shoulder lightly. "Let me know, then. Because I can't stand being around my relatives."

"Like a home away from home."

"Exactly." Himiko's eyes twinkled.

Then the classroom doors opened.

Oh, no.

You scoot your chair back on the wall as the Tenjiku members entered. Surprisingly, the admirers weren't following them. Probably the law they gave sufficed.

"Ah," Ran's eyes twinkled. "Here's our little mermaid." Then he rushed over to your side and had his hand on your waist, hoisting you up and drag you out from the classroom. "We've been looking for you everywhere."

"In case you didn't know, I'm trying to have a peaceful lunch," you said, munching.

His face leaned in almost close towards yours, his breath tickled your skin and his eyes gazing longer than it should've. "You forgot our deal, little darling." Then gazes to your lips, then back to your bewildered eyes.

"First of all, I'm not a darling," you said, removing yourself from his arm. "And second, the deal is supposed to a meeting between me and you guys after school."

Ran smirked. "Perhaps I should phrase it, little darling. You have to sit with us during lunch."

"What is this? Mean Girls? Who's the Regina George?"

"There's no Regina George," he said, baffled. "But you do have to sit with us."

"Out in public?" you asked, blushed.

Ran smirked again. "No, we have our own private area for lunch break to get away from prying eyes and ears and mouth. Come with me, my little mermaid."

You rolled your eyes. "In case you forgot, my name is (y/n), not Ariel. Unless you wanted me to sing and get my voice."

He chuckled. "We'll see, (y/n). We'll see." Then he snapped his fingers, saying, "Oh, I forgot." His thumb caressed your lips, and his satisfaction grew wider. "You have slight dirt on your face. You should thank me." Then licked the portion on his lips, tasting it.

*~~*~~*

Then you and Ran met up with the rest of the members, who are watching Ran clinging to you beside him.

"Why am I not surprised?" Kokonoi said, sighing.

Rindou and Sanzu followed. Then Takeomi and Mochi stood still watching you. As for Kakucho, he watched you also, but with a slight sheepish gaze, still wearing his stoic expression.

"Here she is!" Ran announced, smiling widely.

"Um, Ran, why are you still clinging onto her?" Rindou asked.

"She's tiny, and needs to be protected," Ran answered.

"I don't think she needs protection, she can smack me with a heavy book," Sanzu reminded.

"Don't be like that, Sanzu," Ran said, poking Sanzu's cheeks, to which Sanzu smacked Ran's hands away.

"Keep her away from me," Sanzu said.

"Don't worry, I will," you said, approaching.

Kokonoi frowned. "Don't try to forget our deal. Even if you pretend to do so, we'll remind you again."

"Fine," you said, looking at the school window.

"This way," Kokonoi said, beckoning you to enter the private area.

Once everyone entered, Kokonoi said, "Have a seat."

You took a seat beside Kakucho. "Are they always this way?" you whispered to yourself.

"Yes, they're always this way," Kakucho said with a flicked brow.

You looked at him directly. "Sorry, I was talking to myself."

Kakucho's eyes closed as he softly smiled. "It's fine."

The rest of the time during lunch, it was wilder, wilder than you expected--or maybe it surpassed your expectations in a most frightening and baffling way.

*~~*~~*

You packed your stuff for tonight, and lying to your mother is the worst thing. You didn't want her to find out the deal between you and the boys while your mother is trying to reach the lawyer to investigate regarding the bullying incident you have before.

Tonight, you're bracing yourself for the worst.

Entering the Tenjiku's lair--private home--one where you made a deal with them.

You weren't sure what you're going to do with the boys. Probably studying and tutoring in full hours. Partying. Or possibly surprising you with a twist.

Whatever it is, you prayed hard for a good and smooth-sailing result despite of bracing oneself.

In the lavish building, you were thinking and imaging you’re going to be tutoring then for the whole time until exhausted.

As you enter their room, the foyer, then the living room, it was set all cozy with large and cushiony pillow and blankets with a large screen tv turned on. Buttery popcorn and sweet-filling ice shaving drinks are on the go.

“What the hell?” you uttered.

“(Y/n), nice of you to join us,” Ran greeted before giving you a hug. And you returned the gesture rather awkwardly and suspiciously.

“Yes, because I made a deal with Kokonoi,” you said with a stiffened smile.

Ran then dragged you on the couch with all the members watching you. Again.

They could’ve just ignore me and do their own thing. Luckily, Kokonoi and Sanzu weren’t paying attention to you because they’re trying to select a movie they watch.

"No, I'd say we watch Godfather," Sanzu suggested.

"No," Kokonoi said, typing the movie title on the laptop that was already connected to the movie projector. "I want to watch Dark Knight."

"Forget it! I'd rather watch Iron Man!"

"No!"

"You're difficult."

"Same goes to you. If you want to watch Godfather, go to this movie theater where they replay the old movies."

"Dark Knight isn't new, either. It's been years since Dark Knight is out since 2008."

Kokonoi had his hand up. "Shoo!"

"Both Iron Man and Batman are rich playboys," you told them.

Kokonoi and Sanzu both looked at you. "What?" Sanzu said.

"Both guys--rich and playboys, like you guys," you said with a sincere smile.

Kokonoi looked back to his laptop. "I don't remember in the contract that you're going to be mean."

"How can it be mean when it's true?" Kakucho said.

All members flabberghasted at Kakucho.

"Thank you," you said, sitting down at the farther corner of the lavish couch.

"Which one?" Kokonoi asked.

"Which one, what?" you said, lifting your feet up on the couch.

"What movie do you want to watch?"

"Whatever."

"There's no movie called "Whatever"," Sanzu butted in.

Your sharp glare darted at Sanzu. "Fine," then you stood up and went over to Kokonoi with a hand outstretched. "Give me your laptop."

"No," Kokonoi said, pulling it back.

"Just give it to her," Ran advised with a swished hand.

As Kokonoi begrudgingly handed you his laptop, you searched the movie title, and Ran's voice boomed. "Did I ever tell you that your pajamas are cute?"

You snorted. "Save the flirting for later, Haitani."

Ran drew a dramatic gasp with a hand on his chest. "How hurtful! Did you not want to call me by my first name?"

Then goo-goo eyes shown, as you're stifling your giggle.

"You're not drinking alcohol again, are you?" Rindou asked.

"Hell no!" Ran said, with a fake, dramatic cry.

"I can't choose..." you whispered to yourself. Then a minute later, you said, "Alright, I have a question for everyone. Do you guys want sub or dub?"

Everyone's glances are exchanged with each other.

"Um...dub--wait--why?" Kokonoi asked.

Then you installed the movie, gave back the laptop to him. As the lights dimmed, you bounced back on the couch with a little squeal and little kicks on your feet, stuffing higher squeals in the pillow.

All the members looked at you as if you've gone mad.

"What movie did you install?" Sanzu asked, horrified.

With a little snickering, you said, "You'll see..."

Couple of minutes later, everyone's invested into the movie screen until it showed the face Leonardo DiCaprio.

Then you squealed it occupied the quiet walls. Some members jumped and looked at you again.

"Oh my god," Rindou said, planting his face against his hands. "No!"

"Every time! What does he got that we don't!?" Ran said.

"He's Leonardo DiCaprio...?" you stated.

"That's not a real solid explanation, (y/n)," Takeomi said, lighting another cigarette.

"Okay, his hairstyle," you said with confidence.

"Again, not the reason."

"Is there anyone else you like? Someone who's not a celebrity?"

"Umm....Johnny Depp? Keanu Reeves? Brad Pitt? Matt Damon? But if you’re talking about MCU, it’s either Tom Hiddleston or Robert Downey Jr. or Benedict Cumberbatch or Tom Holland.”

"Not a celebrity!"

Then before you reached another set of popcorn, you took a glimpse at Kakucho with a stilled expression. Dismissing, you look back at Leonardo DiCaprio. Each time he shows up, you kept sighing and squealing, though it's toned down.

As soon as Leonardo DiCaprio's character reached his hand towards Kate Winslet's character, your hand automatically reached out towards his in a dramatic fashion, and it got some men snorting at your profound acting and reciting line by line.

"How many times did you watch Titanic?" Sanzu asked.

"This is my thirteen or fourteenth time...I'm not sure--I lost count!"

Then you get lost into the movie again. Until you started crying on some death scenes--mainly Leonardo DiCaprio's character--Jack Dawson.

"Even when he close his eyes and covered in blizzard, he still looks handsome. I want to marry him so bad," you whispered. "Leonardo I love you then, and I love you now! I loved you ever since it came out--I'll never let go!"

But all the members shot their shocking gaze at you.

"This girl...she never stopped..." Sanzu said, rolling his eyes.

"Tell me about it..." Ran said, saddened. Then he looked at Kakucho, who was also looking at you.

As soon as the movie is finished, you hummed along Celine Dion's song. But Kokonoi halted it. The lights switched back on.

"Hey!" you said with a pout.

"No more," Kokonoi with a cat-like smile, poking his tongue out.

"So what do you guys think?"

"I think it's...great!" Ran gave a polite smile.

"I somewhat fell asleep," Takeomi said.

"But...we could watch any movie, and you chose the one where you squeal for 5 seconds each," Rindou stated.

"You're the reason why we kept ourselves awake from your admiration towards Leonardo--Takeomi sleeping aside."

"How old was he when he's in Titanic?"

"22 years old," you said. "I know he's so gorgeous. His face, his eyes, his majestic hair and his voice. I want to swim on that forever. We should watch Romeo and Juliet next. The way he smokes his cigarette and the way he cries on that movie is too sexy. If you chose the sub version, Leonardo's voice is beautiful."

"Okay, that's enough fawning." Sanzu said, refilling the popcorn.

"Hey, I could say the same thing to girls towards you guys at the school. How is this any different?"

"She's got a point," Mochi said.

"Mochi!" Rindou said.

Shrugging, Mochi said, "I mean where's the lie."

"Anyway, are you guys ready?" you chimed in.

"For another Leonardo movie?"

"No, I'm testing you guys in English," you said, indicating for Kokonoi to give you his laptop for install another movie, this time it's Disney's The Little Mermaid. "First we have to watch this."

"I don't watch cartoons," Rindou objected.

"Then go somewhere else, or try to talk to one of the girls," you said without looking at their direction, you put the sub version of the cartoon movie.

"Do you think so low of us, (y/n)," Rindou dared.

"Rindou, with all due the respect, I meant to say that everyone is handsome and like most handsome men, they're occupied by girls. See, if I say you're ugly, what would you gain from it?"

Minutes in, and the song began to play, you hummed along the tune quietly. Kakucho, on the other hand, could hear you. There's something so pleasant about you, self-assured of yourself and unafraid to speak your mind--no matter how harsh it was.

Few scenes in, and Prince Eric shows up.

You sighed.

"Oh, now what!?" Rindou said.

"He's cute!" you raised your voice slightly.

"But he looks like the type who does stupid things," Sanzu said.

"Like you?"

Then it was silent again, minus Sanzu's huff.

"You're the real life Ariel," Ran commented with a smug.

Though you didn't hear it. Kakucho, on the other hand, heard it.

A heart stirred.

Did Ran have feelings for you? Surely he isn't. He's a playboy who knows how to make someone feel good through affirmation. Another reason why he's the most popular member.

*~~*~~*

Then you and everyone talked, due to English assignments. And by the time there's a pop quiz, Ran stopped and said, "I keep hearing you humming during the Disney cartoon. Is that your favorite movie?"

"I like Beauty and the Beast, and Mulan and Aladdin, and Tarzan--The Little Mermaid is one of the top five favorite Disney movies."

"I want to go to sleep," Sanzu said.

"Do you want to fail?" you said.

"I can copy off from someone else. I mean what's the point of learning when I can just use translation. We have technology."

"Sometimes translations are unreliable. They can give off the wrong impression on someone--some people out there, they get offended so easily. One time I tried to practice Japanese to someone, and he got pissed--doesn't want to talk to me and left. I kept saying and pronounced the wrong thing, and it ended up being so inappropriate. So I ended up going to Japanese classes--ones that doesn't feel basic. I just wanted a good challenge, so that it'd be worth it in the end."

"You did good," Ran said.

You smiled at him. "Thank you. Alright, we should take a break. Do you know where the restroom is?"

"Pass down from the living room on your right--first door," Kakucho said.

"Thank you." And with that, you left, shutting the door.

Kakucho watched you, and until you come back, he still watches the door.

With a shadow hovering over Kakucho, he glanced over to see smiling Ran. He's already creeping Kakucho out.

*~~*~~*

Ran and Kakucho spoke alone, making an excuse of bringing more snacks and proper meal in. As Kakucho entered the kitchen, Ran followed, and said, "She's cute, isn't she?"

"Yeah...she is," Kakucho said.

"Feisty, too."

"I guess so."

Then Kakucho is backed to the wall. This time, Ran's smile turned into grim. "I saw the way you look at (y/n), but your love for Mariko runs deep. Let me give you a warning. She's not someone to be trifled with."

"You only know (y/n) for a few days, she hasn't said much to you. Besides, since when do you care about (y/n)?"

"But her character does. I'm not stupid. Whatever you're thinking right now, you're thinking of Mariko, instead. I have my eyes set on her. If you dare to hurt her by mixing with your feelings with Mariko towards (y/n), you're going to regret this for life."

Taglist: @colored-tr-panels @galactict3a @penguinlovestowrite @onyx-blossom @akemiixx01 @goldenbeskar @f1yh1gh @sanzuisacrackhead @sehunnies-hunnie96

[alicepao13]

A lot of my thoughts about the second episode can be summed up in one phrase:

Why the hell wasn't that the first episode???

But I'll try to go a bit more in depth than that.

I'm sure we've had episodes with more action but this was a dynamic episode. Yeah, Charlie and Rex spent a lot of time being just the two of them again, yadda yadda. I can't keep talking about that after every single episode. In fact, since it's kinda the premise of the show, they could very well turn and call me stupid for assuming it would be centered on the rest of the characters as well. But I should also judge what was in the episode, not only what was missing.

Charlie character backstory in season 6? Okay, I'll take it. Daddy issues isn't something revolutionary (then again, you can't do anything remotely revolutionary in a cop show, much less a cop show that's comes from a previous show) but it's something. It's a character moment. Hopefully, it wasn't just that and we'll see Charlie's father.

The action scenes were nicely shot and very dynamically and made you feel like you were in the middle of the action. Yeah, they used a few too many dutch angles at times (they're not supposed to be used so liberally) but I can forgive that.

I don't have much of an issue with the plot as plot. The script was funny at times, some scenes were heartwarming, it was all pro-military bullshit of course, but it's a cop show and Charlie is a navy brat. I've seen 1,500 episodes of NCIS, I can cope. Even when the military-ish music started playing when Charlie was talking to the female perp (forgot her name and also don't have a better name for the genre of music). Props for them hinting that most vets fall through the cracks after they serve while they need help (this episode also aired 2-3 days after World Mental Health Day, and they did discuss a bit, or well, slightly brushed, the fact that soldiers come back after combat, often traumatized, to a world vastly different than how the military works, and they have trouble adjusting to the real world).

Sarah needing time off to buff up a resume that she makes clear she doesn't need? Do not want. Unless it's setting up some future storyline but it better not be her breakup with Charlie. I'll be honest, I'm on the fence about the lack of Charah. The way this show is being written, it could very well be nothing, so I'm not getting that worked up about it. But as a shipper I'd obviously have liked to have seen scenes with them by now. Especially considering how S5 started. I consider seasons 4 and 5 pretty much equal in quality, for different reasons (season 5 being a constant flat tone in terms of angst and stakes only to show "signs of life" in the end got some negative points for me), but season 6 is not starting off great for a variety of reasons which I will not list here, and I also reserve the right to watch a few more episodes to understand what the heck the new showrunner is doing (Names! I want names! I want to know who I'll be cursing this season. Why don't all shows just put a showrunner credit for fuck's sake?)

Things like getting a bunch of motorbikes, only to make a half assed scene, which wasn't bad but didn't offer much either, in which you also can't make your protagonist do the chase and subsequent stunts (unless you hate him), I don't understand. And let's not forget your other protagonist is a dog. And said dog in another scene is indicating that Charlie needs to be getting back on his own bike? Why would Rex care about that? Is he going to ride with Charlie?

Anyway, while this episode wasn't spectacular, it was on par with a lot of typical crime show episodes. Which is where I put the quality of the Hudson and Rex show overall. Yes, I do like the show and I do pay more attention to it than any other crime show I currently watch (never mind the strikes, I'm talking the last two years at least), but that doesn't mean I consider it revolutionary television. An actual 7/10 episode would be considered a good day for this show, in my opinion. If anyone feels differently, I'd love to talk about it with people who have watched at least a few more crime shows. Because if you don't have something else to compare it to, then you can't compare it to anything.

[yellowloid]

Why do you think Alex and Miles fought in 2018? In my opinion between two there is nothing but a simple friendship and nothing else

hi!!

the reason i think there was a falling out between alex and miles after the eycte era and ESPECIALLY in 2018 is because of how radically their interactions changed after the end of their 2016 tour.

if you only consider them as strictly platonic friends (which is completely fine) then you're probably not gonna agree with what i'm about to say - which, if you follow me on this blog, you probably already know lmao. and that is the fact that in my opinion the making of eycte and then specifically the actual tour was a turning point in their relationship, and it was clear even from an outsider's pov that something was going on between them. the actual nature of what was actually going on is and will probably forever be a mystery, but the way they interacted, the way they were constantly on each other in every way you could possibly think of, the way you could feel so many different kinds of tension between them, and the way you could see the utter fondness and admiration written in their eyes every time they looked at each other... that was definitely something. again, we'll probably never know what it was, but it sure felt like love. the visceral kind, rare and special and so intense they both got completely swept off their feet by how strong it was. the depth of their connection was almost tangible, romantic or not, and that is clear by just watching any 2016 performance.

sure, their friendship had already been going strong for years, but... 2016 was just different. it felt different, intimate and exhilarating and electrifying for the both of them. you could just see it in their eyes, in the way they smiled their most genuine smiles back then. in the giggles and whispers and constant touching and looking at each other like they were each other's biggest, most precious treasure.

and then the tour ended, and it was deeply emotional and sad and it really felt like the end of an era.

they came back to their solo careers, and they were seen less and less with each other. from what we know, they also both suffered from writer's block for a while. then 2018 happened, and am came back with a very concept-oriented album, where everything that might be related to alex's private life is hidden under ten layers of obscure metaphors - and even then, we have no way of knowing how much of it is actually real and how much is just part of the whole concept. the only songs where he is a bit more direct are either """"love songs""""" (and very sad at that: see golden trunks and the ultracheese) or very introspective and personal ones (see anyways). on the other hand, miles came back with a very direct, very much heartbroken breakup album. also an implicit coming out album. also an album where every song screams of alex (i don't even need to give examples. it's literally every single one. the whole fucking album.)

regarding their private lives, miles entered his slut era while alex seemed to slowly start wasting away. my dude literally had a mental breakdown and shaved his head, he was not well fr. this was probably due to criticism of tbhc + him cheating on taylor most likely for a while before actually breaking up with her + getting stuck into a very shallow relationship with louise out of 1) self-flagellation and 2) search for a safe space (keeping up his straight persona, denying his identity and literally burying himself into the closet).

the majority of the milex fandom - me included - seems to agree that if we assume there was something romantic going on between them during the eycte era (possibly even before, but it definitely got to its intensity peak in 2016), after the tour ended things got complicated: miles wanted an actual committed relationship, while alex - back to the routine and having "woken up" from the dream that was the eycte tour - was already struggling to accept his identity, and when miles got serious he got scared and chickened out. so then miles tried to forget him (hence the slut era, but to no avail) while still trying to be his friend because of course they never really left each other's side, and that probably hurt like hell. everything miles could do was watch as alex slowly got eaten away by his own regret, fear, repression and self-hate. what i always say is that by doing what he did, alex broke both their hearts.

their interactions became so weird, too - la cigale 2018 being a prime example of peak cringe content, with them awkardly sharing the mic and alex literally fleeing the stage to run backstage to louise as soon as the song was over. you can't watch a random 2016 performance, then watch la cigale and be 100% convinced nothing happened in between those two years. something definitely switched between them.

my guess is that they never really got over each other, but their friendship did recover after reaching an all time low in 2018. i think now it's in much better condition, though not back to how it was before. they probably never got closure and they probably never will. they just... quietly long for each other and do nothing about it because they're both dumb fucking idiots.

they were indeed seen hanging out during summer 2020 if i rememver correctly, and then they were both at zack and lola's wedding last summer (we were ROBBED of a photo) and then back in... late july? (early august? or was it earlier?) we got that pic of alex at a bar with a fan and miles in the background. ofc this is just the "public" evidence we have of them hanging out and being on at least amicable terms, and who knows what really happens behind closed doors. i do believe they hang out as much as their busy schedules allow them to do. and obviously things aren't the same anymore because they clearly went through something, but what they have now isn't necessarily bad. they're still friends, and that's all that matters in the end.

obviously we don't really know what happened. we probably never will, and that's okay - because that's how it should be. we're not entitled to know anything about their private lives that they don't want us to know. let them figure out the nature of their relationship for themselves. as fans, we admire them for their music and we all enjoy the essence of their relationship with each other - their public dynamic and personas. and i think that we can all agree on the fact that their relationship is something they both cherish so much, so unique and heartwarming and beautiful that it's impossible not to be captivated by it, be it romantic or platonic.

[swearyshera]

You have no idea how hands-shaking, looking-down-off-a-cliff scared I was to scroll down when Catra began to say sorry and got cut off. I had to take almost a full minute to brace myself cuz I was so afraid Glimmer would do the thing so many other protags have done where they just accept the apology for the sake of expediency or compassion or their own regrets or to focus on moving forward. Or to excuse away the apologizers actions as not their own because of manipulation or emotion. I've been waiting since Day One for this hoping it wouldn't be like those, especially considered canon didnt even attempt it and that left my love for this series feeling like it was missing a piece.

I could never expected it go this hard. Glimmer's grief and guilt and cold rage feels so tangible, and the sheer strength it feels like it took to both acknowledge and honestly deliver those feelings to Catra with no sugarcoating while not full-on attacking her with them and driving a wedge into the only refuge either of them have from Prime breaks my heart. Acknowledging Catra feels sorry but telling her flat out no apology or atonement could heal this, so if she feels sorry thats her own damn problem. A perfect interstice of emotional fortitude and frailty. I could never have dreamt of a moment this great.

Glimmer was always my fave in canon but this catapulted her into the fucking celestial firmament. The catharsis I'm feeling right now makes me feel like I could jump the goddamned moon. This moment alone is my favorite exploration of grief and forgiveness ive seen in a fandom like this since ATLA's The Southern Raiders. I cant wait to see your spin on the rest of this arc if its even a fraction this good. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for this and for this project. Thank you.

This was such a hard scene to write. I'd had some ideas written down for this scene for quite a while, and we almost got a scene where they discussed what they would say to Adora instead, but I thought it would perhaps be more impactful to tackle the subject of Angella head on.

I'm not completely oblivious to the fact that many people wished Glimmer and Catra had approached the topic of what happened to Angella in canon. And again, I'd never say that this blog is a 'fix-it' for the stuff people didn't like, but sometimes there's stuff that I wish had been in the show - this was one of those things.

But knowing I wanted to put in a scene and actually writing it are two different things. I was so nervous when this one went out, because I worried that people would react negatively to it (but you didn't, thanks everyone!). You're right that having Glimmer go "Oh, sure, don't worry about it" would have felt hollow and really undercut the whole 'Angella is dead' thing. But equally, if Glimmer had said "Sorry isn't enough, I hate you and will never forgive you", it would have been hard to reconcile that level of sheer hatred with them working together later on.

I chose Glimmer's words quite carefully here. I wanted to show that her opting to take her mother's actions as one of heroic sacrifice rather than a desperate last-ditch attempt to save Etheria from Catra's mistake was for her own benefit, not Catra's. Glimmer makes that choice to discard Catra's part in it every day because that's the only way she can manage her grief (especially when face-to-face with Catra), not because she wants Catra to feel better. And that rejection of the apology was not so much a "Your apology means nothing" as it was "Don't try and complicate the way I'm dealing with this." Sorry means she has to reconcile that Catra feels guilt. Sorry upsets her grieving process. She doesn't want it.

I'm so excited for everyone to see the rest of this arc, particularly how things develop through Corridors. We'll soon be seeing Horde Prime step up his manipulation of Catra's depression, and more about how that is affecting her and driving her to desperation. But we also get those bittersweet flashbacks, the reminders that Adora has always been on her side - even when they've been on opposing sides of a war. And finally, the climax of the episode where Catra saves Glimmer, and (at least here) leaves Adora with some chilling words. I always feel like I become a better writer with every episode, and I am so proud of some of the stuff you're about to see.

[frommybookbook]

Writing Ask!

3. Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic

11. Link your three favorite fics right now

16. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Share one of them?

23. Best writing advice for other writers?

27. What is your most and least favorite part of writing?

56. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

(This is Perrylyuniverse btw this is my main blog)

Yay, someone actually sent some questions! Thank you, @theperrylleluniverse, you are so sweet! Here are my answers:

3. Most of my fics are missing/extended scenes so they usually start with a screenshot or a snippet of dialog at the top of a blank doc. Then I riff with myself for a bit, I type out anywhere from a couple paragraphs to a couple pages of "what if this?" and "how about that?" before I start writing. I'm a very visual person, in general (I don't actually consider myself much of a writer, actually) so I do a lot of visualizing scenes in my head and I'll have things where I can see every beat, with the actors, in my head before I start writing a word. I also tend to be pretty linear, so I write most of my fics in order, from start to finish; I rarely hop around in a scene list. There's also a lot of hand wringing and self-doubt and imposter syndrome wrapped up in it all as well. It's so much fun, I love this hobby.

11. Sadly, Ao3 is down right now, so I can't answer this one but I'll come back to this!

16. For the most part, I'm a monogamous writer. I only ever really have one fic at a time in the works, though I have a few ideas floating around usually. In addition to my current WIP, which is nearly finished and is being called "the divorce fic" for short, there's also always the semi-joking-but-may-actually-become-something-someday Perry/OFMD crossover that @epersonae and I have been talking about for months. We'll see if anything else jumps out and begs to be written once the divorce fic is up.

23. Oh gosh, I don't know. I really don't see myself as much of a writer and always kind of just write things so I can read them at the end/to get them out of my head so maybe that? Write for yourself, because if you enjoy the finished piece then you've succeeded?

27. Least favorite is going through and cleaning up all my bad habits and crutches and lazy writer weaknesses. The number of lines of dialogue I start with "Well," is shameful. My very favorite though is the engagement with readers, both in the Ao3 comments and here, so thank you!

56. I would say I'm pretty proud of my dialog (errant "Well"s aside). I try really, really hard to remain true to the characters and to draw from both the Perry Mason show and books to bring an authenticity to them.

[get to know your fic writer!]

[kitsunerokko]

"When destruction came for our lonesome island, the Turaga knew it would be time for a new group of heroes to arrive. They would be our protectors, our champions... our Toa. But surely something must be afoot. Those chosen by the stones surely cannot be Dosa Nui's heroes! They had, and continue to have, many... problems, that don't inspire confidence in the Turaga, or myself. Their forms even seem as if the Great Spirit saw our image of the ideal Toa and twisted them. They are not the heroes we wanted, but they are the heroes we've got. And so I must, I must believe in them. Or we are all lost." -Chrouhi the Chronicler

So in the past two days I decided to give my OC Toa team a bit of a facelift, reflecting more of what I've learned of using stud.io since my older renders of the team!

Background Image in the Group Photo is edited from a Creative Commons photo by Horia Varlan.

And for individual character blurbs (written from the perspective of the Chronicler character, and so adescribe them before their character development), can be found after the jump!

"Takara is the team's Toa of Fire. His Toa Tools are the Grand Firestaff and the Flare Buster. As I've chronicled many, many, MANY times, he's long been something of a troublemaker, with pranks, ill-thought-out plans, and plenty of disruption. Including intruding on the duties of yours truly. He initially was considered the leader, until his boneheadedness led to disasterous results and lost him the team's respect. Being a Toa has not changed him one bit, much to my dismay."

"Kaumi is the team's Toa of Water. Her Toa Tools are the Mariner's Boneblade and the Zamor Soaker. She is very headstrong and stubborn, never giving up until she gets her way, no matter whom she may anger. Despite her butting heads with, well, anyone, she has at least proven she has a good heart. I've lost count of how many times she was the head of positive social change in our island's history. No doubt this is why she is leader of the Toa Dosa now."

"Okolu is the team's Toa of Ice. His Toa Tools are the Ice Axe, Zamor Snowshot, and, bizarrely, the Hot-Plasma Launcher. He's... eccentric, is the nicest way to put it. He's got lots of positive energy for sure, but seems to have absolutely no filter and other people always seem to be bothered by him. It's actually kind of sad... especially since he's the source of the current singular friendship among the Toa. Granted, this friendship is with Takara so who knows where that influence will end up. Hopefully Okolu's version of 'annoying' wins, personally."

"Kraani is the Team's Toa of Air. His Toa Tools are the Exoskel Shield and the Airblaster. I've heard complaint after complaint about this guy and his snooty, better-than-everyone-else attitude as a Matoran. And much like the others, no change seen so far as a Toa. While he claims to be more effective and smarter than the rest of the team, he has displayed no such standout prowess, though he blames this on his teammates. A Toa really needs to understand the value of teamwork or the team.. will not work."

"Opuro is the Team's Toa of Stone. His Toa Tools are the Twin Dirk and the Chain Ripper. Opuro is extremely competitive and I've written many incident reports where he took things very far when playing sports, doing tasks... if there's a measurable way to outperform someone at something, he'll do it. Sort of like, if Kraani could actually back up his ego. That's Opuro, though at least Opuro is nicer, somewhat. He seems to at least want others to 'get as good' as him, relishing worthy challenges. As such, after becoming Toa he has been very excited, perhaps even too excited, to fight. We'll see if he can last like that..."

"Leonu is the Team's Toa of Earth...? I think. I've never actually seen him use his elemental powers, and apparently no one else has either. Kaumi thinks he might be of another element entirely, and I may be inclined to believe that. I actually don't have much on him compared to the others, he's almost never come up in any news or events I've covered. And interviewing various Matoran around Dosa Nui doesn't yield much either. He's just, very quiet, very keeps to himself, to the degree people just don't know much about him. Anyway, his Toa Tools... the Inika Staff and the Laser Drill."

[boreal-sea]

I am sure plenty of people have made this analysis of Star Wars: The Last Jedi, but I don't care.

"Blind loyalty to authority is GOOD" was a bad message for an allegedly anti fascist themed movie series.

The main lessons from TLJ are as follows:

Sacrificing our own against insurmountable odds is not necessarily good, and sometimes surviving to fight another day is the greater act of resistance. We are not nameless soldiers or cannon fodder, we all have family and friends. We matter as individuals.

Blind obedience to your supreme leaders is good, and questioning authority, choosing your own path, and rebelling against orders you think are unjust will only lead to pain. Trust your leaders, and never ask them to explain themselves. Loyalty is all that matters.

These two lessons are uh..... contradictory, to say the least, and the second one is openly fascist, which is pretty weird considering the Rebels are supposed to be the ones fighting against the fascists. Not to mention, both Anakin and Kylo fall prey to charismatic leaders who demand blind loyalty.

And that doesn't even get into the fact that Lesson 1 is openly contradicted part way through the film when Vice-Admiral Holdo selflessly sacrifices herself and an entire resistance space ship to buy the Resistance more time to escape.

I have just so much to say about this film. Mostly that Lesson 2 is wrong, and should've been "Disobeying orders is good if those orders would cause an inhumane loss of life, and you should always question your leaders when they want to go a step too far".

That's my main thesis. Let's get into this.

We are going to focus only on the opening sequence because it really functions as a framework for the whole film, and we'll focus on Poe's characterization in this sequence.

So right off the bat we get the first instance of these two lessons being mashed together: Poe disobeys orders and sacrifices lives to take down a First Order ship. He thinks it's a great victory, but Leia explains that the Order can literally just make more of those ships in like two seconds, but the loss for the Resistance was immeasurable. The movie's lesson is: Poe should always follow orders, and sacrificing lives is bad.

Obviously I have issues with how this sequence is written. It should've played out in a way where "blind, unquestioning obedience" was not one of the lessons.

Personally, Poe doesn't seem like the kind of character who needs to be taught "sacrificing yourself or others is bad, actually". He literally helped save a Storm Trooper after knowing him for two seconds. Poe is a good guy with strong morals.

That said, I can vibe with Poe being written as a bit too loyal to the Resistance. It's part of his characterization already; he nearly worships Leia as a leadership figure, and he's a very enthusiastic flyboy, ready to take on whatever dangers the Rebels ask of him.

Writing Poe as willing to obey the orders of his leaders is right there. And this could've lead to some great internal conflict! Poe, told to sacrifice his people, and not wanting to do that, but also wanting to believe the Rebellion is "always right"...

Instead, they turned him into a jerk who doesn't want to listen to anyone and is bloodthirsty enough to purposely kill his own people for victory. That does not vibe with how he was written in the first movie.

Now, I could see him being written as a bit of a hot-headed rebel... if that rebellion was against following orders that sacrifice too many lives. Again, this would fit with his original characterization.

So if I could rewrite that opening sequence, I'd do it one of two ways:

---

Poe as loyal but conflicted

In this version of the sequence, Poe is ordered to sacrifice the ship with Rose's sister Paige on it for the good of the mission; he is conflicted but follows through, though he does everything he can to try to get Rose's sister out in time. These orders would have to come from Holdo, not Leia. Poe comes back, and is not reprimanded, but has a discussion with Leia about his conflicted feelings. Notably, Leia tells Poe he was right, and that sacrifice isn't always the correct choice, nor is blind obedience. Leaders can be wrong.

Poe as rebellious with morals

In this version of the sequence, Poe is given the order to sacrifice the ship, and refuses to follow through. Someone else involved, someone higher up, orders the ship to go through with the mission and it does, and Rose's sister Paige dies all the same. Poe is reprimanded upon return and taken off missions as in the movie, but he's seething for the right reasons this time. He talks to Leia and she agrees that he was right to disobey orders but there's nothing she can do at the moment.

---

Either of these changes keep Poe's morality and characterization intact and change the second lesson from "blind loyalty is great" to "blind loyalty is bad, actually".

And there would've been so many ways to work Finn into this too - Finn, who openly defied the First Order, refused to shoot, and then rescued Poe! In the scenario where Poe is loyal but conflicted, Finn could've been that additional voice to say "yeah you're right actually, disobeying bad orders is great, believe me".

In the other scenario, with rebellious Poe, it would've served to strengthen their friendship, as they are both now fighters who refused to take a life in the name of duty.

[icharchivist]

more da4 stuff are coming out and i hadn't blocked the spoilers tag yet bc the warning was that there'll be more spoilers on the 19Th, but last article by IGN actually revealed two things i really wanted to see in game by myself and i'm so mad kdjfhdjkfhd

i blocked the tag now so at least i should be able to avoid more but boooo

but about those things bc i want to discuss them:

so far it was a theory that Lucanis was possessed by a demon but the latest video just confirmed it and i'm. so sad they did so.

but they also confirmed which type of demons which is a win for me bc i've been brainstorming it for a while.

Because the tarot card showed Pride Demon and it boggled my mind because Lucanis is NOT prideful. he's only arrogant to provoke his marks. And, on the other hand, he's not particularly wise. In fact he's the opposite of wise this man fucking tore open the Veil to get revenge and then went "idk it seemed like a plan, anyway yolo YOU told me to do that", this man behaves on instincts not on wisdom.

To me, if spirit was possessing Lucanis (which was strongly hinted at from his new powers, his skillsets, the fact he's believed dead and probably did actually die!), it should be a spirit of Justice/a demon of Vengeance, because Lucanis is DEADSET on vengeance even though it's not his job. He derails his job completely because he's motivated by vengeance for people who were wronged by Ambrose.

But then again we never truly saw what type of shape a Justice/Vengeance spirit would take, since we only met one possessing other people's body. It also felt wrong to me to have this again considering how close it would have been from the Anders/Justice plotline from daoa and da2 (with Justice first possessing a dead person and him being twisted to vengeance once he gets into Anders).

So my conclusion was Justice/Vengeance unless it's a new spirit we've never heard of that is adjacent to that.

WELL the latest video seems to reveal that Lucanis is possessed by a Demon of Spite.

Which. Well. Close enough????

But also it means Lucanis very likely died or almost died and was saved by a spirit of Spite (probably because Lucanis is waaaays too comfortable using spirits to start with but that's a post for another time i have so many thoughts about Lucanis, magic, and spirits) which is why he's alive. The screenshot i've seen implies that Lucanis is trying to keep Spite from being too active, trying not to trigger it, and i wonder if the stolen glances with Emmrich in particular is a set up to how Emmrich, used to gently handling spirits who bind themselves to corpses, would help him navigate this situation.

BUT the best part to me is that it means Lucanis SURVIVED OUT OF SPITE. THIS IS THE FUNNIEST THING YOU CAN SAY ABOUT YOUR CHARACTER HELLO. HE LITERALLY SURVIVED OUT OF SPITE.

I already love him so much it keeps adding i'll never be safe.

The other spoiler i've seen is that we're definitely seeing Felassan again and i'm so excited for that, but i wish I'd been surprised about it in game. He's a book-only character, from The Masked Empire, and there's only one line that refers to him in Trespasser ("His friend had to die. Because he thought they were people. A slow arrow breaks in the sad wolf's jaws."), but we know Felassan was someone important to Solas and that the end of TME still haunts him, so it was logical that in the Lighthouse/Crossroads, that will be filled with Solas' memories, we'll see more about Felassan, but i was worried they may ignore him all together because he IS a book only character, no matter how beloved he is. I'm relieved they're actually showing him, but MAN i can just imagine how i'd have screamed if i saw he was there in game. wasted.

Anyway now i blacklisted everything and i reread The Wigmaker's Job and The Wake the other day, and i have thoughts, i've written half a post about it and then got too lazy to do the rest, so stay up for that one i guess.

But ghhhh. So good.