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#god this one hurt to write
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well. i can't find my original fic rec list so here's a new (updated) one!
Daily Routines by The Garden of Unusual Delights (Shadowland) A number of people who feel depressed turn to comedy. Routines can also help. / As can having someone to care for. 4k words / oneshot / complete - TOP fucking tier. this rewired my neurons, shifted my view of Barnaby & his relationship with Wally, and also made me Deeply emotional
How to Greet New Neighbours by The Garden of Unusual Delights (Shadowland) He doesn't know what's happening, but he knows it isn't good. 8k words / oneshot / complete - STELLAR. an intriguing and engaging (and heartbreaking!) take on how Wally wound up sending material to the whrp
A Matter of Care by The Garden of Unusual Delights (Shadowland) When Julie is too sad to take proper care of her hair, Frank is happy to help out. 2.5k words / oneshot / complete - this person always gets characterizations Just Right, don't they? this a very sweet and tender moment between the besties <3
What to call it? What to call it? by Anonymous Wally tries to figure out what is different about the Neighborhood. But maybe there is no difference at all. 2.2k words / oneshot / complete - a fascinating exploration / behind the scenes interpretation of the secret 14 audios. the end always has me in my feels <3
Strings Of Fate by A_Cypress_Coffin Frank Frankly lived life by simply trudging along most days, but all of that changes when a new neighbor, quite literally, crashes into him. 27k / multichap / ongoing - a very fun interpretation of Franklydear and how the puppets perceive / experience / handle the true nature of their reality. i Cannot recommend it enough!
To Read a Clock by TurnedWorm Frank and Eddie try to teach Wally to read a clock. They get a bit more than they bargained for. 2.7k words / oneshot / complete - sweet and also Haunting! a stellar combination, and an interesting take on Wally's perspective. ngl it gave me chills!
my chest is bursting with abnormality by springtrap_wiki Wally realizes that something about him isn't as it should be. 1k words / oneshot / complete - a little peek into Wally realizing that he's different than his others neighbors. I like how this is handled - it hits home if im being honest!
Goin’ Out of My Head by 5_24 Picking someone up from the bus station seems like an easy task. But when adding Eddie Dear to that equation and the passenger just happens to be Frank Frankly, the results may vary... 5.4k / multichap / complete - genuinely funny, cute, and entertaining. the perfect read for a laugh!
Inside Jokes by The_PastelVoid In which the puppets are waiting for Sally and discover that Wally apparently has a contagious laugh when Barnaby tells what is called an "inside joke". 2k / oneshot / complete - pure fluff and laughs <3
Goodnight, Wally! by PastelDemon ... But what would happen if, one day, without any warning, Wally suddenly could sleep just like everyone else? 19.5k / oneshot / complete - very sweet with a sprinkling of angst, and an entertaining take on what a new-to-sleep Wally might be like
Welcome Home: Fantasy AU by ImaginatorOfThings What would happen if we took our lovable cast of puppets, and put them into a Fantasy alternate universe? 28k / series / complete - a VERY fun fantasy au with a fascinating twist. it made me tear up, it made me feel some dread, it made me smile! what more could we ask for <3
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gooperts-gunk · 2 months
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im so crazy over the tragedy of everything q!bbh does being under a demon pretense even though he's a fallen angel.
do u think he just accepts the demon label because it's easier. do u think he believes it too, and catches himself in his thoughts with "oh, right. im not exactly that". and maybe he believes that he did this to himself? do u think what he did was to protect himself or someone? no matter the fall, he still has so much kindness to give and his brain just isn't wired the way a natural-born demon would be, he can't hold back instincts when time demands it, maybe that's why he fell in the first place.
and when he's finally bad, not good, it's treated like the end of the world, without empathy on why he would act out. do you think this keeps happening? the same scenario, multiple times, every timeline? he has to be used to it. so he has to take it in stride. he's good until he lashes out under extreme pressure, and suddenly he's called demon. and once again he's what heaven made him out to be. what he made himself to be, his brain would ruthlessly provide...
i don't think he wants to be that, though he hides secrets behind secrets of which neither identity is a home... but i don't think he wants to have to change, either. and i don't think that's wrong of him.
...you collapse atlantis ONE TIME and all of a sudden YOU'RE the bad guy and SURE it was FUN but REALLY now,--
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mrsoharaa · 18 days
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you didn't think too much into the simple graze of the newest spider-mans fingers gently brisking over yours as he takes his leave. the sweet, noble male that personally tended to you from your former strenuous, chaotic mission that led you to having a wounded leg. thus putting you right into the spider society's med bay.
you wave him off with a friendly smile, your eyes quickly sweeping over ever so attentively to the left to note Miguel's intent stare. pretty globes of soft cardinal leering behind the new, overly tending spider-man leaving the medical room you resided in. bearing directly into the back of the generous mans skull with such fueling rage and hatred.
his hardened glare sweeps back over to meet yours through the crystalline glass of the mirror into your medical room. thick brows that once tightened ever so firmly and searing wrath pooling into those glorious irises of pure ruby, immediately softening to your delicate gaze. a tinge of hurt and remorse instantly building up in the conflicted mans chest, immensely.
your heart flutters against your own, capturing the shorten, soften gaze of swarming distraught and longing clinging into those beautiful, intense eyes of his. your lush lips slowly part from each other, attempting to gather words to accumulate towards the man — but only failed, inescapably, when everything within you blared at you not to engage with him. not to engage with the very man that put you through with so much unbinding hurt and betrayal. the very same man that slowly, treacherously broke and tore you from piece by piece.
your pupils dilate, closing your agape lips promptly as your fingers crumble amongst the thin sheets of the medical beds bedding. you turn your head, shielding back the hot, thick tears swelling at the brims of your lashes. trying to not crumble before the very man that you inevitably fell in love with, during your previous time together (during your little "stress distressing" lascivious sessions).
the very same man that slowly, treacherously broke and tore you from piece by piece. promises of unfulfilled, unattainable pledges of comforting enlightenment and console, crumbling with the shattered fragments of your broken heart.
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roomy-ghosted · 8 months
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My feelings towards ao3 this morning.
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opens-up-4-nobody · 9 months
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She's turning the rain to snow
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recitedemise · 5 months
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𝗠𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝗚𝗮𝗹𝗲'𝘀 𝘃𝘂𝗹𝗻𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗯𝗶𝗹𝗶𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗴𝗴𝗿𝗮𝘃𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗱𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗹𝗼𝗽 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘂𝗺𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗲𝘀, 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗠𝘆𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗮 𝗮𝗰𝗰𝗲𝗽𝘁𝘀 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗰𝘂𝗹𝗽𝗮𝗯𝗶𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝗳𝗼𝗿. This lengthy headcanon will refer to canon dialogue from mostly Gale, sometimes others. Reader's discretion is very much advised. There will be in depth explorations into grooming, emotional abuse, heavy manipulation, and suicide.
First, let it be said that Gale, a mortal man, will always be the powerless one in his dynamic with Mystra. Of course, nearing forty years of age, he remains entirely responsible for his own actions, his own foul blunders and every hurt he'll cause, but it's important to remember who formed much of who he is: his goddess, his deity, and egregiously, his lover.
Mystra is power. Mystra is possibility. She knows what sway she holds over her Ioyal, vulnerable, and entirely mortal followers. In all ways that matter, they are but lambs she can steer and herd as she sees fit. She knows they can't deny her, and knows they'll never want to. Gale's sheer servitude and complete devotion; to the very quick of his bones, she lapped them up.
Gale: I was just... practising an incantation. Player Character: No, there's more to it than that. I know devotion when I see it. Gale: What can I say? She's—she's Mystra. I can't describe it, the need I sometimes feel to see her - to draw the filaments of fantasy into existence... Mystra is all magic. And as far as I'm concerned, she is all creation. Player Character: I didn't realize the depth of your devotion. Gale: Magic is... my life. I've been touched with the Weave for as long as I can remember. There's nothing like it.
Gale, orb in his chest, doomed to be eaten by the very thing he loves the most, still speaks so reverently of the goddess, of his lover that has left him to die. He conjures images of her memory—and she is all the while forgetting about his.
Minsc: Gale reminds me of vremyonni of my homeland. The man-mages of Rasheman. While the girl-folk go on to rule as wychlaran, Weave-touched boys were hidden away. Trained to work their craft in silence and secrecy. It is an old custom, not well-observed. In truth, I thought it born of caution after some catastrophe of wizardly men-folk of old. Now, I wonder if it was not done to hide them from Mystra, and the snares she sets for young and prideful boys, hm?
Tales of Mystra's treachery spreads far, leaving those familiar waters surrounding Gale's tower in Waterdeep. They whisper her name, afraid to utter it one time too many, suspecting, perhaps, that she'll show in their mirror like some Faerûnian Bloody Mary.
Talent rouses Mystra. She can see who uses the gift of the Weave and feel them, sampling whatever delight sings their veins as they pull from her domain. Not unlike a spider, she'll follows every tremor that strikes her as just a sliver more profound; and Gale, a prodigy, plucked the Weave's web to so garner her focus. And like some black widow scurrying, she surged down that ripple to prey on a boy. There, Gale, so impressionable, was just a mite older than twelve whole summers. He sat so stunned, beholding Mystra as she lured him into the cradle of her Astral domain. Bathed in her magic, pleasantly coddled within that glittering cosmos, Gale felt blessed in a way he'll struggle always to recount, no word, no language, fit to describe it. He felt chosen. He felt seen. And potently, to a child, he felt loved. Now, imagine a child experiencing something like that. Imagine what they'd think, how brilliant they must be when stood beside the rest. She told him he was gifted, made his heart swell not unlike a child's appetite for praise. She knew what she was doing by offering these morsels, by preying on a child's most delicate mind, and Gale, child prodigy, was already so awash in the idea that his value was in magic. Unfortunately, Gale, susceptible, had no way of squirming out of his goddess' grasp.
Reality: She's laid down the seeds to creep into his heart. When he's just old enough—seventeen's sufficient, she thinks—she stakes her claim and makes him hers.
Gale: My virtuosic talent once caught the eye of the goddess of magic herself, Mystra, who named me her chosen and her lover.
Gale is stunned when she takes him to bed the first time. (Is this really happening?) Mystra claims his mouth in a kiss, taking everything she knows he offers so willingly. Mystra, of course, is not so stunned.
Dream Visitor: An elder brain... one of the cruelest and most powerful creatures in existence, enslaved by mere mortals. Gale, tasked with Mystra's missive to sacrifice himself: This is it... I must do as Mystra commands.
Gale has worryingly low self-esteem beyond his magic. As already explored, his entire worth as a man hinged on and was built entirely off his talent as a wizard. He fought tooth and nail for any crumb of affection Mystra would offer his way, something she only gave him at all seeing his gift as a child. He wants her forgiveness. He desires it genuinely. He believes so firmly that he has wronged his goddess, buying into the idea that sacrificing himself will right his wrong. She holds such dominion over him, making him reduce his confidence in himself into a mere, trifling pittance; after all, she wasn't just his lover, but the patron deity he prays to. And regardless, Gale is a people pleaser, his initial acceptance of her missive coming as no surprise.
After all, Gale, at times, goes to incredible lengths to appease his audience. This habit, compulsion, impulse, whatever you want to call it, is a quality that was relentlessly exacerbated in his relationship with his immortal paramour. He wanted to content her, felt all he did was never enough, for as a matter of principle, he was oceans, leagues, and entire galaxies beneath her. Gale figures: well, how can a short-lived dalliance satisfy a god? He had to make her happy. Indeed, he'd done everything she'd ask. He'd bedded her how she liked, kissed her how she wanted, and of course, even said those words she'd said tasted best. She was his lover, a lover that never tended to his own needs and pleasures, and he fooled himself into thinking that's enough. He won't bend backwards for everyone, mind you, but if you're of the ones he would, he would stop at nothing to make you happy. After all, people pleasing is a way to keep oneself safe, a trauma response to sidestep discomfort, and though it achieves only a direly tentative peace, when that is all you've been fed, you will pursue it.
Gale did not want to lose Mystra; he couldn't bare the sting of it. And so, when Elminster visited him, Mystra's call for his death offered oh so callously, Gale, heartbroken, felt that part of him kick up. He couldn't endure the guilt, was so hungry for a chance to let his weighty heart breathe, even if it meant dying in the process.
At least this way, he'll finally do something right. At least this way, Mystra will forgive him, and all his friends will survive.
Gale: After I was afflicted with my condition, I locked myself in my tower for an entire year. I was inconsolable, wallowing in my self-inflicted tragedy. I'd given up on myself.
As a byproduct of people pleasing, Gale, too, is all too quick to accept all guilt. He self-deprecates, gaslights himself to a venomous degree, and twists his reality in so cruel a way as to make him the villain Mystra'd led him to believe. He self-flagellates himself, the first one in the world who will throw Gale of Waterdeep a mental punishment. Mystra's a goddess, after all, seen as utterly faultless, and twined so tightly with a being so mighty in esteem, Gale slipped into the role of the guilty often. When tied with anyone with grandeur like this, so immeasurable in their own self worth, it's important to keep in mind this: you are nothing but a prop in which to fulfill their ego. Gale was not Mystra's, not by a long shot. Rather, Gale was a tool, simply her mortal extension.
And he took every blow meant for her... a common and terrible habit for many people in imbalanced, ego-fueled relationships.
Gale's life beyond her wasn't something that interested her. She took most of Gale's devotion, manipulated his life to be her sole mantle of attention, for Mystra is not a goddess that shares very happily.
Indeed, long before his self-imposed isolation, this jealous deity did well at keeping him isolated.
Player Character: Picture kissing him. With tenderness. Then, with passion. Gale: I... I didn't think— Narrator: You perceive quick-fire embarrassment, trepidation, and finally... elation.
And so, cheated out of love, so reduced in his value as a man and lover both, suffice to say, Gale's slow to believe he can ever be loved. That's what happens when you're with someone so cold, consistent only in their infinite lack of respect. Gale looks at fondness, and he feels—confounded, to be sure. He thinks, is this truly mine to have? He doesn't know what to do, is nearly forty in game, and despite having lived decades devoted to one relationship, he feels, at the same time, entirely out of depth. To be frank, he greets it with embarrassment, like he's been caught red handed with something not his at all. He's like a child caught rummaging with his hand in a cookie jar, all this isn't mine to enjoy, not mine to indulge in, but he thinks, startled, but god, do I want. He wars with disbelief, uncertainty, and need, and in so many ways feeling utterly starved, with just a glimmer of affection, he falls fast into love.
Scenario: (And if properly romanced, it changes his world.)
Gale: In her (Mystra's) likeness, I used to read a thousand stories. She was beauty, wisdom, elegance, power... she contained universes. But now... it is hard to see any redeeming qualities in a lover who condemned you to death. I'd much rather gaze into your eyes than hers. Yours are capable of tenderness and feeling... No god could ever compare.
He says it with sincerity. There is such wonder, such love, and such awe in his eyes. He makes the act of kissing him feel like you've just reached into the trenches to but pluck him soundly from his ruin and despair. You think, Gale Dekarios, how unloved have you been all this time?
Gale: To know you love me for the man I am, and not the magic I command… none have loved me so purely before.
The answer is: entirely.
For so long, Gale thought love was simply being chosen. He knew nothing of being favored for the quality of his character, to be cherished and accepted even in those ways he fumbles and lacks. Again, his needs were seldom met, often treated with utter indifference by Mystra herself, and to meet someone so eager to treasure him, dote on him in a way his heart, his body is somberly new to, raptures his spirit and captures his soul. He's seen for who he is. He's... loved, desired for his silly quips, his easy smiles, and his growing affections. He bares himself to them, and in turn, they cradle his heart like something entirely precious. Gale thinks this has to be dream. He says, at times, you are more than I deserve.
Scenario: (But sometimes, he hopes too strongly and loves too greatly. As it always does, then, like he's once more wanted too much, he watches something beautiful slip right through his fingers. Of course, Gale Dekarios. Of course it does.)
Player Character: I didn't know you felt so strongly, Gale. Gale: Perhaps I should have done more. Been more charming, more flattering, harder to reach... but I was only myself, and sometimes that isn't enough.
They don't love him anymore. It breaks his heart. He hurts so much, so profoundly and deeply, and he doesn't realize that he breaks their heart in turn.
Unable to ever voice his feelings with Mystra in any way that amounted to much, Gale's a tendency to wallow, expressions coming off as potentially 'guilt-tripping' and even, on occasion, passive aggressive. Firstly: Gale NEVER means to manipulate emotions, and he's no intention of twisting anyone's arm, either. Fact is, Gale, never taken seriously when he'd bared his vulnerabilities to the Mother of the Weave, can end up saying just a little too much. He feels very deeply, and for most his life, seldom had an outlet for these weeping sentiments. He sometimes lets slip raw words and oftentimes heart-wrenching expressions; all the same, it's not so pitiful as to shepherd an outcome, but rather, is a gesture taken by a man so desperate to be heard. It may feel like scheming, but the truth is far, far greyer: feeling as though he's no right to share the depth of his heart, Gale simply lets it geyser out in a way he can't cork up. In ways he doesn't realize, he's adapted to this ache, passively reacting so his feelings can at least be seen and recognized—no matter how pitifully unwhole. With someone who values so little his thoughts... well, when he slips into these moods, one can hardly feign shock.
Situation: (And if no one shows him trust and tenderness, any true care in his character or worth, Gale gets swallowed up by how wronged he was.
He thinks: Let me be a god. Let no one hurt like me anymore.)
Gale: They only want us to serve them, pray to them...and ultimately, to die for them. But what if we didn't need them? What if we wielded their power instead and helped ourselves in all the ways they refuse to? I could make that happen.
Gale is not above anger, and as stated, he is not above pettiness; however, more than that, he is not above righting himself whatever wound he was struck. Gale, if not offered much by ways of affection, understanding, is made to believe that one idea that's lived growing in his mind: Gale Dekarios is far from sufficient; he has to be more. He has to be better. Gale, in such an unkind ending for himself, sips too desperately—and perhaps greedily, too, but desperately serves as a far better word—at that idea that he needs power. And so, wresting the Crown of Karsus for himself, he spites Mystra in his own way, becoming a god he feels is leagues better than she will ever be. Damn her thoroughly. Damn her ego, her power, and her endless indifference. He will serve the people, protect them, and in ways Mystra never could, better the world.
Situation: But as a god, he loses all sense of his kindness. Humanity. All who loved him leave him, and even Tara spurns the image he's become. With power, he's gained the respect he thought he always wanted... but in turn, he lost in even greater measure all the love he's known.
Endnote: But healing, knowing to forgive himself and knowing he's deserving of care simply for being Gale Dekarios will remain, always, the best path for him.
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jinxybri · 8 days
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"hey mom... dead mom..."
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Rae tried not to visit the memorial. He knew that if he went there, he'd start feeling the pain of losing her all over again, and he knew there were things he had to focus on. "I can grieve her once it's all over," He kept thinking. "I promised her I'd help her and I failed her. I can't fail anyone else."
And then he found his sibling standing by it, cursing it's very existence. "How could you do this, Rae?" Icarus had asked. "This isn't okay. She hurt me." They had said. Rae couldn't not hear the animosity in their voice against his mother, the hostility against them. He didn't blame them, but he also deserved a place to memorialize his parent. "She was my mother, Icarus." He had said. But to Icarus, that wasn't enough.
Icarus had attacked him there with a potion. Something that made him cough up sculk and sprout new horns and a tail. Something so vile that it made his body fight for it's life so hard it grew new bits.
He knew they didn't like it, knew when he made it that they wouldn't like it, and yet he deserved a place to keep her memories alive. She deserved it too, even if she had made bad decisions.
So, fearing that the spot would be blown up, like how the memorials of the bodies in the Endstone reset Strongholds had been, he started visiting it more. At first he'd try and see it from his windows, but that hadn't eased his mind. So instead he went closer, and closer. And eventually, one time, he decided to sit there.
And then he talked. "Hey mom..." He started with a simple greeting, "Well.. dead.. mom." It felt crazy, talking to an empty grave, a full ground instead of a hollow one, and yet... it was helping. "I wish you were still here..."
"I wish I could've been more of a son to you."
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ywpd-translations · 6 months
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Ride 749: The last Straight Road*
(NdT.: same pun Kinaka always makes with his name and the word for straight road)
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Pag 1
1: I....
3: Imaizumi-san!!
4: Go- good work!!
Good work!!
You were taking a long time for this lap
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Pag 2
1: Yes, teh, I got a fl-fl-flat- my bike!!
Yessir!!
2: It's the tire!!
4: Only tires can get a flat
Ah- damn, yes, that's right
Right!!
6: I thought something like this might have happened, so I brought these
Replacement tubes, tire levers, and a pump. Use them
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Pag 3
2: This is unusual!! I never thought Imaizumi-san was the attentive type – is it just for us!?
Yeah!! I thought first and second years were just not important to him....
3: You don't want to use the,?
We'll use them, thank you so much!!
4: You saved us, teh....!!
That's true
6: Ah, uhm... but..... Imaizumi-san
Earlier you said that
7: Sugimoto-san won't come”, what did you mean?
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Pag 4
1: He retired
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Pag 5
1: He's still displayed on the board, but
3: There's still time until midnight
If Sugimoto-kun....
4: Please leave the possibility open in case Sugimoto-kun wants to come back!!
5: Onoda insisted
6: Re... tired.....
Sugi..... moto-san....
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Pag 6
1: He used up all his stamina and mental strength in his fight against Danchiku, and he was defeated
2: You didn't notice because you've been on the course the whole time
4: Ah... actually, when it got dark, Sugimoto-san and Danchiku-san passed us various times... teh
Huh!? That? So at that time-!?
5: You have no time to talk about unimportant things
As soon as you're done with the repairs, run, first years
6: Soon
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Pag 7
1: Waa, ye-yes, teh, thank you for the tools
Yeah, there's still 40km
2: If we join our strengths....
Don't cooperate
5: Teh!?
7: From now on, you can't allow yourselves to run like friends
8: Huh....
Our “buddies” stickers.....!?
You have to fight
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Pag 8
1: And win the last spot to be an Inter High member!!
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Pag 9
1: Fa.... ight....
2: Against.... Kinaka-kun
3: Against.... Rokudai
4: 35km left!!
Gooo!! Kinakaa, Rokudaii!!
Do your best...!!
5: I feel like they'll be able to run the 1000km!!
Amazing!
Ah, but there was no distance between them just now?
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Pag 10
1: Fight....
2: The spot as a regular in the two-times national champion, Sohoku....
3: I can't take it by just being friendly....!!
4: And also
5: There's Sugimoto-san's wish!!
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Pag 11
1: Wa- wait, please, Imaizumi-san
But.... if in this training camp the condition to become the sixth regular was to finish the 1000km first....
2: Then why did Sugimoto-san and Danchiku-san race!?
4: I came here to give you a message from Sugimoto
5: I think, I think it's necessary, you know
Sohoku is a team that connect and support each other
6: Just like during our first year, you, Naruko, and Onoda, connected your wishes and aimed for the goal
7: And last year Kaburagi ran with Aoyagi-san and carried the team until the mountains on the third day
8: So I think we need it
9: Our third year Inter High members
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Pag 12
1: Definitely need a “first year”!!
3: Even if he knew he was making his own situation worse, he thought about the best shape for the team would be
4: He accepted it, and fought
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Pag 13
1: For the fifth place
3: Among the first years, those two are left, I look forward to see what they do!!
That's too much food
4: Danchiku probably understood it, too
That's why he fought with all his strength
6: Now you two have to run with the weight of those expectations on your back!!
7: Fight, against your opponent and against yourself!! Use all your strength
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Pag 14
1: And pull to yourself that last jersey!!
2: Straaa-
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Pag 15
1: Straight roaaad!!
2: - traight!!
3: …. ngh
Ugh.....
4: Kinaka-kun.....
5: Don't cry, Rokudai!!
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Pag 16
1: What are you doing, oi!! I'll leave you behind like this!! I'll tear you off!!
If you give up, then it's lucky for me!!
2: My goal has always been the Inter High jersey!!
To get back at those senpai who made fun of me!!
3: To show it to the Onii-san who taught me how to ride bikes!!
So, for that....
6: So I'm telling you not to cry!!
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Pag 17
1: But, Kinaka-kun....
It's that your “Straitgh road”, wasn't fast at all....!!
4: You knee? It's your knee, right?
Since when? Since a while ago?
5: Since when we were at about 800km
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Pag 18
1: It's a race, Rokudai
2: You should have told me, teh
I didn't notice, teh!!
3: I'm such an incapable former manager, teh....
4: Since when I lost to you in the first years' race
6: I've been thinking that I would definitely not lose the next time we race
7: Even though the truth is that I don't really care about that anymore
So, once again...
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Pag 19
1: It's a race, Rokudai!!
3: Let's do it, Rokudai!!
I can't, teh
4: Race me, pedal!!
I don't want to, teh....
5: Fight me!!
I won't pedal, teh
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Pag 20
1: Because, if I fight you now, Kinaka-kun, I'll end up winning, teh
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Pag 22
1: With that kindness of yours, support our senpai during the Inter High
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yellowocaballero · 1 month
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Been a fan of your fics for YEARS. I was just telling my friend how despite how much I read fics I never actually love them, with some of your fics (especially TMA) as the exception. Felt the need to reread some of them and saw you reblogged some ISAT fanart. So. Any thoughts on ISAT you'd like to share?
Hope you have a wonderful day!! So happy I found your fics again!!
I avoided answering this for a while because I was trying to think of a way to cohesively and coherently vocalize my thoughts on In Stars and Time. I have given up because I don't want to hold everybody here all day and I have accepted that my thoughts are just pterodactyl screeching.
I love it so much. I have so much to say on it. It drove me bonkers for like a week straight. I have AUs. It's absolute Megbait. They're just a little Snufkin and they're having the worst experience of anybody's life. Ludonarratives my fucking beloved.
I am going to talk about the prologue.
The prologue is such a fascinating experience. You crack open the game and immediately begin checking off all of the little genre boxes: mage, warrior, researcher, you're the rogue...some little kid who's there for some reason...alright, you know the score. You're in yet another indie Earthbound RPG, these are your generic characters, let's get the ball rolling.
Except then you realize that these characters are people. You feel instantly how you've entered the game at its last dungeon, at the end of the adventure. They have their own in-jokes, histories, backgrounds, adventures. They get along well and they're obviously close, but not in a twee or unrealistic way. They have so much chemistry and spirit and life. I fell in love with them so quickly.
But Sif doesn't. Sif kind of hates them, because they will not stop saying the same damn thing. They walk the same paths, do the same things, make the same jokes, expect Sif to say the same lines. They keep referencing a Sif we do not see, with jokes we never see him make and heroic personality he never shows - they reference a Sif who is dead - and Sif can't handle that, so he kills them too.
They become only an exercise in tedious frustration. Sif button mashes through their dialogue, Sif mindlessly clicks the same dialogue options, Sif skips through the tutorial, Sif blows through the puzzles. Sif turns their world into a video game. Sif is playing a generic RPG. Sif forgets their names. They are no longer people with in-jokes, histories, backgrounds, adventures. They're the mage, the warrior, the researcher, and...some random kid.
I did not understand the Kid's presence at first. I had no idea what they contributed to the game. They didn't do anything. As a party member in a video game, they're a bit useless. Why is the Kid there?
Because Sif's life isn't a video game. Because the kid isn't 'the kid'. They're Bonnie. Bonnie, who the party loves. Why is Bonnie there? Because they love them. There is no room for Bonnie in the boring RPG that Sif is playing. And then you realize that Sif is wrong, and that they've lost something extremely important, and that they'll never escape without it.
Watching the prologue before watching ISAT gave ISAT the most unique air of dread and horror, because you crack open ISAT and you see the person Sif used to be. You realize that Sif used to be a person. Sif used to be the person who made jokes, who gave real smiles, who interacted with the world as if they are a part of it. And you know you are sitting down to watch Sif lose everything that made them a person, to lose everything that made them a member of this world, and turn them into a character in a video game who doesn't understand the point of Bonnie at all.
At the climax of the game, when the others realize that something is deeply wrong and that Sif physically cannot tell them, they realize that there is nothing they can do. So Bonnie declares snacktime. And for the first time they have snacktime.
What is snacktime? Classic JRPGs don't have snacktime. There's literally no point to a snacktime - not in a video game, and not in Sif's terrible life. It's not fixing this, because nothing can fix this. But Bonnie gives Sif a cookie and Sif eats it.
It's meaningless. It's a cutscene. It didn't save Sif and it didn't change a thing. It will make no difference in the end.
But it did make the difference. It made all of the difference in the world. Bonnie is a character who you really don't understand the point of before you realize that Bonnie was the entire point.
ISAT is about comfort media. Why do we play the same video games over and over again? Why do we avoid watching the finale of our favorite shows? What is truly comforting: a story with no conflict, or a story where you always know what is about to happen? Do you want to live in a scary, uncontrollable world, or do you want to play Stardew Valley? Do you want a person or a character?
When I beat Earthbound for the first time (and if you don't know, the prologue/ISAT battle system is just Mother) and watched the ending cutscene where the characters part ways and say goodbye...I felt a little bit sad. I wanted them to be together forever. But that's something only characters could ever be.
#these aren't deep or unique thoughts they're just the specific aspect of ISAT that made it one of the most interesting gaming experiences#i actually like the prologue much more than ISAT for just this reason#its honestly a video game art piece that's created to give the player a very specific experience#that makes them an aspect of the narrative that is told#it's. incredible.#in stars and time#start again start again start again#start again: a prologue#isat#god and there is so so so so much more to say here#what a rich and complex and fascinating game that made me cry like a baby#i dont even kin sif. we arent similar at all.#i cant imagine how devastating this game would have been if i did#but I do have a deep relationship with escapsim#and i write about it a lot#and video games about being video games are wonderful#as are stories about being stories#and why we consume stories. how we use them. how they save us and hurt us.#never played a video game that used its medium so well#i bet undertales also pretty good at that but this is more so i think#stories about stories have to be about why we love stories#and im not an artsy person and i roll my eyes a bit when people talk about the spiritual neccesity of art#i think people need stories because the world is sad and hard and boring and we want to think about something else for a while.#some people need to be anywhere but here#and sometimes if you're Lil Depressed-Ass Snufkin that looks like being here forever#baby cringe-ass snufkin big hat idiot
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hamartia-grander · 2 months
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Wyll breaking up with the player character if Ulder dies so Wyll must become the Duke makes me wanna throw up sobbing because he actually thinks that just because his father's first duty being to Baldur's Gate made him a Bad Father that Wyll himself will inevitably be a Bad Lover because surely no one could match love with duty if his father couldn't, unknowing he has more love in one hand than his father had in his entire body. fuck
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Hi, im very sorry if this has already been answered or established somewhere else but im curious, with your Kazumaji stuff, around what time did they start dating (i.e. after the events of Yakuza 0 and all that) and how?
tbh, I dunno!
I don't really have an established date for that cuz sometimes I'm like man they'd be really cute during y0 and then other times I set it between post y0 and the beginning of y1. The latest they would start me thinks is some months after the events of y1 but in general it sorta depends on how I'm feeling and what silly scenarios play in my head
ideas under the cut tho 👀
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if we're talking y0: I like to think Kiryu has to go to Sotenbori for some reason, be it business or he's there with Nishiki for some partying. he sees Majima at the Grand being depressed and is like "damn girl those bags under your eyes makes my dick go *boing sound effect*" and asks him out 🥺 Kiryu gets rejected immediately cuz Majima's in this cycle of 'I deserve nothing but pain and suffering' but Kiryu can't read the room so he is persistently showing up at the Grand despite Majima very obviously wanting to kick his ass. eventually he relents and goes on cute™ dates with Kiryu and realizes oof maybe human intimacy be kinda gucci
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if between y0 and y1: Majima's fresh in his mad dog era starting shit with people just to be annoying and Kiryu's one of his targets mainly due to the events of y0. he's kinda like "lol this goober really did some important plot stuff, huh?" and his curiosity gets the better of him because Kiryu is an enigma who eats bugs and Majima cannot suppress his need to get some sense of understanding on this weirdo. in this timeline, it's more one-sided affection from Majima that comes in the form of stabbing while Kiryu is desperately trying to fight the gay allegations and failing. eventually he caves but it's a sorta unofficial, on and off thing that Kiryu doesn't really know how to evaluate for himself. Majima doesn't really care what they are since he's high on life atm and has a cute dude with big boobs on his arm
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if during y1: literally just everything Majima Everywhere. Goromi. GOROMI 😩💦 Kiryu is all: I LIKE PUSSY but everyone's like okay big man then why's Majima pole dancing for you huh. the two braincells he has start to click and he realizes maybe Majima wants to hold hands or something unthinkable like that. ngl I like to think Kiryu's thing for Yumi is like a demisexual bi thing where he's like, I do love her but she don't zap my brain quite like the bowlcut freak who knows how to punch me real good and it becomes sorta his personal introspective journey during this time. Majima is also floating in the space of am I doing this for his benefit cuz "training" or am I falling for this dork. he's pretty sad about it cuz of the Saejima reminder vibes but eventually Kiryu falls into his own person that Majima really meshes with and the two of them struggle to actually voice how they feel all the while their pants are down in some dirty alley
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if after y1: (going to insert shit from a fic I'm working on) Kiryu's absolutely devastated with what happened in the Millennium Tower + now having to take care of Haruka that he's shut himself off from everyone and everything other than doing the bare minimum to live. in comes Majima being a menace like yo you can't like, let a child parent herself you gotta get outta this slump and Kiryu's all fuck you stop breaking into my house. so it's a long pain in the ass process to help Kiryu deal with his grief while Majima keeps unintentionally making googoo eyes at him and both of them are like boy I sure hope this doesn't awaken anything within me. there's also a lotta dadjima stuff going on and Kiryu's like wowie zowie so you do have a heart and Majima's like no way loser while being just ��👉👈
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scopophobia-polaris · 2 months
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Can't reblog with the video but man this is written and edited like an ancient aliens episode
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vbecker10 · 17 days
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Loki's Silent Sentry (alt. ending Part 2 - final)
Part 1
Alt. ending Part 1 is meant to be read after part 2, instead of the original parts 3 - 7
**Seriously please do not read this without reading the trigger warnings**
TW: death of a main character (if you message me I will tell you who in case that will change if you read this or not), mourning the loss of a loved one, loss of a family member, having to mourn in secret, depression, feeling alone, brief mentions of previous loss of parents, inability to move on, guilt
(Please let me know if I missed anything and I will add it)
A/N: I wrote the fluffy, happy ending for this story but I got this song (tagged below) stuck in my head and it felt like a really tragic way to end this story. The idea just kept getting more depressing and heartbreaking so I had to write it. I understand this is not for everyone, it's not even something I would usually read.
Please, please do not feel the need to read this because we are mutuals or because you read the happy ending version. I will absolutely not be offended if you skip it.
...Last chance to turn back lol 🫣
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You walk through the common room of the soldier's quarters, your head down as you desperately try to escape to your room. Several people congratulate you on receiving your award this morning and you nod vaguely to each as you pass by.
Slamming closed the door to your room, you rest your back against the wood and close your eyes as you breathe deeply. Your fists clench as your mind replays the king's words of praise. Heroic, brave, loyal, dutiful, all the things a good soldier should be you were but you were still not enough to save the one person on Asgard who mattered to you.
You reach for your chest and your fingers brush against the cold medal Odin pinned to you. Opening your eyes, you rip the medal from your uniform and throw it across your room. You pay no attention to where it lands, you want it as far from you as possible.
You pull the end of the black fabric tied around your arm and let it fall to the floor as you walk to your bed and sit down heavily. You bend down to pry off your heavy boots and when you sit up your eyes catch the painting of your parents that you keep next to your bedside.
Picking up the small frame, your fingers trace their faces slowly. Your father has been gone for nearly ten years, his life given defending the Bifrost from a Jotun attack. Your mother was killed while protecting the queen's father when you were still a child. You hold the picture tightly to your chest. Your mother and father, your grandfathers, three of your aunts, your uncle, your cousins... you slowly list the members of your family who gave their lives in service to the crown and the realm.
You slowly lower the picture to your bed as the thoughts that haunted you before you met Loki returned. You are once again completely alone in this world. No family, no true friends, no one to love and to love you in return. Loki was the only person you were able to connect with in recent years and he knew you were terrified of being alone, of being the last one left. He promised he would always be with you, that he would never leave you alone but you made him break that promise when you failed to save him.
You get up from the bed and walk angrily across the room. You swipe everything off the top of your dresser as you scream. Glass bottles shatter and items slam to the ground around you. You are not a hero, you are not brave, you did not do your duty. You move to your small bookshelf and grab the books by the handful, throwing them to the floor, crying tears of anger and regret and guilt and pain. You should have died protecting Loki, you should have died in his place. He should be alive, your mind screams as you pick up a small metal box you keep on your desk and throw it against a wall.
You stop suddenly as dozens of folded notes spill out of the broken box, walking towards the pile slowly you wipe away your tears with the back of you hand. You sit on the ground next to the pile and pick up one of the pieces of paper which fell out. The one you picked is still neatly folded, not like the others you've opened and refolded after having read them over and over. This is the note Loki passed to you shortly before his death, you have not been able to force yourself to read it. You hold it tightly to your chest and try to hear his voice but all you can hear is your own.
You lost the love of your life and you will be alone forever. Loki is gone and it is your fault.
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You stand next to Captain Skye as Commandant Thorn prepares to read the charges for Loki's former sentry. Odin sits on his throne and Thor is seated next to him, the queen is not in attendance this afternoon. Only selected council members are present and a handful of soldiers, all captain or higher except for you.
The private kneels in the center of the room, a guard from the dungeons on either side of him. His hands are bound behind his back and he hangs his head low.
You force yourself not to look at him, to keep your eyes straight ahead and your expression emotionless. Last night you visited him in the dungeon and agreed to speak on his behalf even though you know it will have no effect on the outcome. Your captain informed you that he is going to be made an example of. Regardless of his low rank and lack of experience, his one duty above all else, was to keep Loki safe and he failed to do so.
You feel a pit grow in your stomach as a member of the council motions for you to come forward. Your heart pounds as you take your place next to him, he looks up at you and you can see how lost he is. A part of you wishes you could place the blame solely on him for Loki's death. If he had done his duty, Loki would be alive but you can't. You know in your heart that he had been purposefully selected because of Loki's desire to see you.
You take a breath to steady yourself. "It is my professional opinion as a lieutenant in the royal guard that Private Rok is far too young and inexperienced to have been allowed to guard Prince Loki. There is no doubt or argument that he did not follow his training or his duty but he is only one month out of the academy. There is a reason sentries are meant to spend their first year after training shadowing more senior sentries. It is so they can understand the enormous responsibility that comes with being a sentry. Guarding a royal or council member is more than silently following them around the palace. A sentry must truly be willing to lay their life down for the person they are protecting and unfortunately Private Rok was not willing or ready to do so," you look at Odin as you speak.
Odin sits back in his throne and asks, "Who is responsible for assigning this soldier to Prince Loki so soon after completing his training?"
The room is silent until you realize he is asking you. "Prince Loki requested him," you answer but give no further explanation. The last thing you want to do is make it seem as if you are attempting to say Loki's death was his own fault.
Odin nods and is quiet for a moment, the whole room waits for him to speak again. He motions for you to return to your place next to Captain Skye then he stands. You hold your breath as he sentences the young man to fifty years in the dungeons.
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Two days later, you open your eyes to the sound of the morning bells. Loki's funeral is at sunset, you remind yourself as you sit up. You throw off your sheets but you can't find the strength to stand, you've cried it all out. Sitting motionless, you look around your room and sigh as you flex your bandaged hand. You had cleaned everything yesterday and cut yourself more than once on broken pieces of glass. The black tie and medal you "earned" sit next to the painting of your parents, waiting for you to put them back on.
Forcing yourself up, you take a few steps from the bed and go still when someone knocks on your door. You have no idea who it could be, the soldiers you live with have all giving you their condolences for the prince and congratulations on your award. There was no one left who would wish to see you.
You shake your head and decide to ignore whoever it is in the hopes that they will go away, you do not have the mental capacity for small talk today.
After a few moments there is another knock and you suddenly realize how quiet it is. The drone of constant talking and laughing that radiates from the common room is gone. Even at night, there is always chatter as the shifts vary greatly, someone is always awake.
You take a deep breath to steady your nerves and open the door. Your heart stops as you come face to face with the queen. You are so shocked you freeze, forgetting to bow or greet her or even blink it seems.
Her new sentry stands just to the side of her and says, "The queen would like to speak with you, Lieutenant Y/L/N."
Your heart aches at the thought of inviting the queen inside your private space, Loki had never been to your room before. There was never a chance for you to show him the book where you pressed the flowers he gave you or sleep with him on your bed so your sheets smelled like him. He hadn't seen the painting of your parents or your childhood stuffed animal. There were so many things you still wanted to share with him but you would never be able to now.
You shake away your thoughts and step out of the way so she can enter, her sentry remains outside. Closing the door behind her, you keep your eyes down and take a few steps away from her. You are terrified to be near her, afraid she blames you for Loki's death as much as you blame yourself.
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"Y/N," she says softly and you look up slowly to meet her eyes.
She looks as distraught as you feel and without thinking, you begin to apologize, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry-."
She moves quickly and wraps you in a tight hug, cutting off your words. You break down as soon as you are in her arms, she is the first person who has hugged you since Loki passed. Unable to hold back your tears any longer, you cling to Loki's mother while you shake from the force of your sobs.
When you finally let go of her, you wipe your eyes and apologize again, "I'm sorry your highness, I-"
"Shh," she pulls you back into her arms. "You have done nothing to be sorry for," she says quietly and you nod but you don't believe her. She takes your hand and leads you back to your bed, sitting on the edge she motions for you to join her.
"This was not your fault, Y/N," she tells you as you sit close to her.
"I know but..." you want to believe her.
"I don't blame you and you know Loki doesn't either," she says and you look up at her.
"I just... I need you to know I really tried. I tried so hard but I just... I couldn't get to him fast enough. I couldn't find him. I wanted to, I needed to save him but I couldn't," you try to wipe your eyes but the tears come to quickly. "I know my duty was to protect you and everyone calls me a hero because I did but..." the thought that haunted you at night slips free. "I didn't save your son, how could I be a hero? He died because I failed."
She pulls you into her arms and rubs your back lightly. "The outcome does not make you a hero, your actions do. I have never doubted that you did everything you could to bring my son back to us," she says softly. You nod and she adds, "He would never want you to let this eat away at your beautiful spirit."
You look up at her and rub your face with the back of your hand. "I know how much Loki loved you and how happy you made each other," she says, her eyes full of tears but she smiles. "He told me so many wonderful things about you and his hopes for your future together. You truly were his whole world."
"And he was mine," you tell her, your heart aching at the knowledge that he told his mother he was planning a life with you.
You take her hand, "Loki, told me how lucky he felt to have you as his mother. He said you were always there for him." She smiles as tears roll down her cheeks. "I want you to know how much he and I appreciated all of your help after the ball. I never... I never thanked you for giving me that extra time with him on Sundays. I cherished every second we had together but I wish we had more time. I would give anything for just one more day with him."
"So would I," she agrees.
You sit together in silence for a moment then she says, "There is a reason I wanted to see you this morning." She wipes her eyes and clears her throat before giving you the best smile she can gather in the moment.
She reaches into a pocket on her black gown and takes out a small golden box with a snake etched into the top. "Loki would have wanted you to have this," she offers it to you.
You shake your head no, your heart sinking as you open the box. A thin gold band with diamonds around a large emerald sits on a dark green piece of velvet. You touch the ring slowly, running your fingers over each gem then you close the box quickly as you feel your head spinning.
You look up at her and she is holding a folded piece of parchment paper. She sighs deeply and looks at the paper without unfolding it, running her fingers along the crease, "He figured out how to bypass the marriage law..."
You look from Frigga to the box in your hands and find it hard to breathe as she talks. Your hands shake as you hold the box tighter.
"He was going to propose during the Harvest Festival next month..." she says. "He wanted to do it in front of all of Asgard so no one would ever question how in love you two were."
Your heart shatters at hearing how close you were to being Loki's. One more month and the two of you would have had your happily ever after. You open the box again slowly and take the ring out, you slip it halfway onto your finger and stop. You whisper no and you begin to take it off but Frigga puts her hand over yours.
"You should wear it," she says, "And you should be with his family tonight."
"I can't..." you look down. "I'm supposed to be on guard during the procession," you explain but she shakes her head.
"You will walk with us," she says simply. "It is what Loki would have wanted."
"But the king said I'm not to mourn him in public, it would be..." you worry about his reaction to seeing you at the funeral.
"Leave the king to me," she says in a determined voice. You can't help but smile a little when you remember Loki once telling you that Odin may rule Asgard but Frigga ruled Odin.
"You are not just a soldier. Odin and the council may try to deny it, but you were not just his sentry nor even his friend," she sighs deeply and takes your hand again. "You should have been allowed to be his wife, Y/N. It is what you both wanted and deserved. I'm sorry these idiotic political issues kept you two apart while he was alive but I refuse to let anything stand in the way of you grieving him the way you should."
You can barely believe what you are hearing and you are at a loss for words.
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Loki's body is dressed in full armor with his horned crown, his favorite daggers crossed over his chest as he rests in a wooden boat, surrounded by flowers from the garden he shared with his mother. The king and queen walk a few steps behind as the boat slowly floats towards the water. Civilians, council members and soldiers line either side of the long path, heads hung in respect and mourning. You walk next to Thor, your black gown flowing around you gently in the light breeze, your hands folded tightly together so you can feel the ring he wanted to give you. Tears stream steadily down your cheeks but you hold your head high and continue on.
The dark water ahead grows closer and when you see the mist from the falls beyond, your feet refuse to walk any further causing you to stumble. A hand reaches out and catches before you fall.
"I have you," Thor assures you, tears in his eyes as you take his arm for support.
"Thank you Thor," you look away as he fails to hold back the first of many tears. "I'm sorry you lost your brother."
He nods quietly and walks with you a few more paces before he says, "I'm sorry sister. I had not known how much you meant to Loki, I never would have treated so you poorly if I knew the truth. I only ever wanted my little brother to find peace and happiness. It seems as if he had found both with you."
You grip his arm tighter as the boat gently slips into the water, guided forward by Odin's magic. Odin halts a few feet from the edge of the water but Frigga continues to follow the boat until the hem of her dress becomes wet from the soft waves. Thor leaves you so he can stand with his father but you follow the queen. You cannot bear the thought that this is as close to Loki as you will ever be again. You want to follow him out into the water and over the falls to his life after this world.
All of Asgard watches in silence as Loki's body floats across the water in the wooden boat. Odin taps his scepter once on the sandy shore and the sound echos, somewhere behind you a single archer let's loose a flaming arrow and your heart stops. The boat catches instantly and your knees give out as he draws closer to the edge of the great falls.
You hit the ground hard and watch from your knees, tears streaming down your cheeks as the boat vanishes from view. Loki's spirit is set free, hundreds of beautiful green orbs float towards the sky above. You watch until the last light fades into the stars and cover your face with your hands to quiet your pained scream.
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A few days after Loki's funeral, you accepted the queen's request to return as her sentry. Over the last month, you have force yourself to rejoin the world around you but inside you feel as if you are still drowning in your grief.
Every second you stand alone in silence outside of the queen's office is spent reliving past conversations with Loki. Each hallway you walk down holds a memory from your time spent following him as his sentry. The winding staircases where he held your hand secretly or stole a kiss when no one was around cause your chest to ache. You can't breath inside the palace, the very air reminds you of him.
Today is Sunday, a day you used to look forward to above all others, a day where you were once able to show Loki your love for him and feel his love for you. The queen opens her door and steps out, there is no need for her to tell you where you are going. You already know the destination.
You follow Loki's mother into the garden and a wave of emotions hit you so hard you find it hard to breathe. Every Sunday since Loki passed, you have taken his place beside her although it pains you both greatly.
You walk next to her slowly as she recounts stories from her son's childhood and teen years. You can hear the heartache in her voice as she corrects herself each time she speaks about Loki as if he still here. The stories vary over time, some are funny while others are seemingly random memories with no true focal point.
You listen to each story but you are simply performing for the queen, you smile and laugh at all the right moments but you have lost your ability to feel joy. Your eyes scan the garden while she talks as if Loki might somehow appear on the path ahead. As if he could be hiding behind every tree or tall hedge even though you know you will never see him again. The garden has become one more place on Asgard where Loki haunts you.
As you leave the garden, you both pause next to a tall, full rose bush with flowers that are marbled green and white. She touches the petals gently and takes your hand.
You stand at the top of the stairs and think about the nightmare that awaits you if you return to your room. Your sleep has been stolen by a single reoccurring dream every night for the last month. Smoke and ash cloud your vision, you feel heat burning your skin as the flames surrounding you grow steadily closer. The roar of the fire drowns out your screams for Loki and you always wake up suddenly to the same sound, the cry Loki's mother let out when she found him in your arms.
"Loki would have loved these," you tell her with another practiced smile.
She conjured them in honor of Loki after she spoke to your on the morning of his funeral. She gives you a hug and tells you that your are dismissed for the night. You nod and turn, leaving her to watch the sunset alone.
My beautiful Y/N,
You had decided tonight would be different, you were not returning to your room. You turn down the long dark hallway to your left, to the office where Loki had created a duplicate of his chambers using his magic.
Lighting a single candle, you take off your armor slowly and sit on the worn out couch. The cushions are flat and the legs are uneven but you are not worried about being comfortable, not tonight. All you want is to be somewhere you used to share with Loki. His office and chambers had both been sealed upon his death but even if they were not, you doubt you could bring itself to go in either.
You close your eyes for a moment to stay yourself then take out the note he gave you just before his death. You take a deep breath and open it for the first time.
I miss you more than I can put into words, I cannot wait until I have you in my arms again. I promised you that I would find a way for you to be mine forever and I think I finally have. We will be together soon and I will never let you go. I love you more than anything in the nine realms.
Love always, Loki
You fold the note carefully and hold it to your chest as you lay down. The tears you have kept locked away all day run down your cheeks. Wiping the tears from your eyes, you catch a glimpse of the ring he would be giving you at the Harvest Festival tomorrow if he were still alive.
You close your eyes and imagine Loki down on one knee in front of all of Asgard professing his love for you. You cry with joy and jump into his waiting arms, telling him you love him as you kiss him over and over.
The images fade and you roll over to face the back of the couch. You sniffle, wiping your eyes again and decide you will soon be with Loki forever. Tomorrow, before the festival, you are going to tell the queen you are leaving Asgard. You have made the decision to be sent to the front line of the ever raging war on Jotunheim.
If the Gods are good, you will meet Loki and your family in Valhalla before long.
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This is the song that inspired me, if you listen to the end you will see why. Again... I'm sorry to everyone who reads this that I hurt you but I just needed to get this story out of my head. If you want the happy ending version please read the original part 3 (linked at the top) 💙💙
If you did like this, please like, comment and share! Thanks! 💚💚
@siconetribal @soubi001 @lulubelle814 @newtomofgods @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen
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kaisollisto · 1 month
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avatrice but they're both furniture tables.....
At first Ava just thinks it's just a really good day, the sun is shining at the right angle through the window that warms 3/4s of her. Her broad oak surface preens at the attention. She's always loved the way the window casts light. The slopes and curves hypnotize her.
There's something that calls to her, (the story, the mystery, the mistakes, the process,) that she loves. The arch, Ava pores over, there's a story brimming beneath the smooth glass. It vibrates at a frequency Ava can't get out of her mind. It sings to her and sometimes it drives her insane.
She wants to answer the call, to sing back but Ava is brown oak wood. She was made from the splinters of a great tree she can no longer taste.  The memory lingers like a tender bruise, the taste of something greater, something familiar, but now all she can taste is herself.
She tastes like a forest fire, smokey and raw. It sits inside of her lungs smoldering, burning her up. And Ava has never known how to stop heaving.
Ava's favorite game is finding love in plain sight. She can't calm the forest fire but it's easy to pretend she isn't on fire when passion curls inside her.
She looks for lingering touches, worn away divots, the absence of dust. There's always more to it, a reason, a why, an answer that Ava seeks. (One that she doesn't want to know but seeks.)
It's been years but Ava can still feel her. She stands on 4 legs just like her but there is purpose in the way she holds space. She holds it like a museum (whereas Ava fills her lungs with as much air as she can hold).
The question itches at Ava, it paws at her chest and she's always loved to scratch. She can't find it at first, the love, the absence, the dust, the divot, it's hard. For once in her life Ava just sees a table.
And it eats at Ava, she permeates Ava’s brain like a fine layer of dust. No matter how much Ava wipes off, the dust still settles. Ava can't escape her, they've never held a conversation (but Ava has held the air in her lungs longer in hopes she could taste something different).
-
(She radiates devotion, and what is devotion if not something akin to love Ava thinks.)
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flowercrowngods · 1 year
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"Stevie," Eddie says, wincing at the stale air in the room. It's almost pitch black, except for the lamp in the corner that colours everything dark blue, and the glow stars on the ceiling that they'd put up together, making pretend constellations in pretend galaxies.
"Go 'way," Steve mutters, head buried beneath two pillows and hands clasped tight around them, as though that will be the thing that fixes him, that keeps the bad away. Eddie sighs, not at Steve, but at the awfulness of it all. He fiddles with the blister pack in his fingers, and allows the condensation from the water bottle in his other hand to soak his palm.
"Please, baby," Eddie says. "You need to take your meds. The doctor said - "
"Fuck the doctor," Steve curses angrily, muffled.
"Maybe later, once you've taken your meds," Eddie says calmly, or aiming for calm. He hates seeing Steve hurting, and Steve hurts a lot. More than he'd like. More than he knows he realises.
Steve emerges from his pillow prison slowly, blinking like it hurts him to do so, and Eddie knows it does, so he just holds out the water bottle, cap off, and Steve drinks greedily, throat working hard, whilst Eddie pops out two pills. Steve makes a pitiful noise as Eddie hands them over, but reluctantly takes them, screwing up his eyes against the taste before swallowing down more water.
"You did so good," Eddie says. Steve shakes his head then moans. "It's okay," Eddie says. "Back under the pillows now. The pills will work soon."
"I hate this," Steve says. "I hate that you have to see this."
"I know you do. I hate seeing it. But only because it's my favourite person in the whole world suffering. Not for any other reason. Please don't think it's for any other reason," Eddie says softly. Steve makes a small noise, already piling the pillows back over his face. Eddie reaches out and strokes the back of his hand.
Steve's hands clench, then unclench, before relaxing.
"I'll be around, if you need me," Eddie says, before standing. He pauses at the door. He looks at Steve's prone form, the invisible war in his head. "It's not rotten work, you know? Never, actually."
He pulls the door to, but doesn't close it entirely, just to make sure he can hear Steve if he needs to. He never, ever wants Steve to think he's a burden. Not when he loves that boy more than breathing. Not if it's you, not if it's me.
not if it’s us
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synonymroll648 · 1 year
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from a vibes perspective, i totally understand why so many people look at keefe and go ‘this guy would be the male equivalent of a wine aunt when he’s older’. 
but. but. 
taking lore into consideration, in my heart, he’s terrified of alcohol (even if he tries really hard to hide it). because. like. his first exposure is almost guaranteed to be through cassius, and cassius canonically threw a glass extremely close to him at least once when he was, like, 8. maybe cassius wasn’t always extra nasty when he was drunk, but there’s gotta be a correlation in keefe’s brain between risking getting seriously hurt (emotionally or physically) and alcohol consumption that’s really hard for him to shake. 
#tw alcohol#tw child abuse mentions#lmk if there's more trigger warnings i should put#i have a thing for hurt/comfort lmao#kotlc#keeper of the lost cities#this is brought to you by:#that one fic my brain started writing internally where it's sophie's 21st bday and she's like man i#have saved the world so many times we've all lost count. i want a fucking drink#and keefe's internally like OH GOD OH FUCK in a bad way but externally he's like yeah babe whatever you want!!#and then she's like. i don't wanna do anything super stupid though. and drinking alone is super stupid when you've never drank before#will you stay w/ me? please?#and keefe's like. i cannot say no to that face#so he spends the night doing an increasingly bad job of hiding how bad he's freaking out#because sophie is a safe space and alcohol is not safe and he doesn't know how to deal w/ the two colliding#ESPECIALLY since sophie's just getting dorkier and sweeter as her filter goes down instead of throwing insults or objects at him#(i feel like sophie would be the kind of drunk that's very impulsive and says EVERYTHING that comes to the forefront of her mind#and stellarlune was more than enough to prove that she sees keefe and a lot of the time her brain just goes hnnngh soft little tortured#artist. MY soft little tortured artist.)#yeah but even intoxicated sophie can tell something's wrong even before he flinches super obviously at an empty glass falling over w/o#breaking. and so she's like nah man it's hurt/comfort time and he's like BUT YOUR BIRTHDAY and she's like do you really think i'm#gonna just let go of the fact that i know you're stressed? i'm not a dickhead keefe#so yeah it ends in cuddles. because of course it does#keefe sencen#annnnd out of the drafts this goes. post!
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