#tells her she’s better than everyone else there
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Now I’m in exile seeing you out
Pairing: Azriel x reader | WC: 4k | warnings: none
Summary: a follow up to you’re losing me - You've reached your tipping point where you can't forgive Azriel's constant choice of work over you. Can he fix things? Or did things get wildly out of hand and it's too late?
Author’s note: you guys loved part one, hopefully this offers a satisfying conclusion 🥰
2k celebration masterlist
Your new apartment was quiet, not even your neighbors were making noise. You had grown accustomed to the silence the past few months - Azriel always being gone had left the house a certain way - too large, too quiet, too much without him. This silence felt different.
It wasn’t full of expectation - of wanting Azriel to come through the door or expecting him to treat you like he did in the before.
Now you’re in the after, your finger feeling light from the lack of the ring on it. Fae don’t usually wear rings - a human custom that Feyre had told you all about, one that Azriel found quite romantic.
“So that way when we are buried and our scents are gone, if anyone found our bodies, they would know what we were.”
His words were romantic, but now the tan line on your finger just made you feel hollow, as if this wasn’t supposed to be happening.
Any sound you made just echoed through the too empty space - you had foolishly gotten rid of most of your previous furniture when you and Azriel bought a house - your new furniture not arriving for a few more days. Feyre had found you this apartment rather quickly when you showed up at the River House in the middle of the night, uncertain of where else to go. She and Rhysand had agreed to let you stay there until you found a place of your own and they also agreed to not tell Azriel where you were.
“We could start fresh,” you had said to him, mainly wanting a good enough reason to throw out the couch you’ve had for half a century. But now all the new furniture was left behind, in a house too big for one occupant, probably laughing at your past words.
A knock at the door interrupts your thoughts, and you look through the peephole to find Feyre standing outside with a large plant of some sort. You unlock the door, letting her in. She gives you a soft smile and hugs you, the absurdly large plant making it somewhat difficult to get your arms around her.
She chirps a greeting to you, rubbing your back gently as you pull back from her. She knew why you had done it - you spent several nights over the past year on her couch crying to her over Azriel and his lack of time for you.
Behind her came Rhys, carrying several buckets of paint, rollers, tins, tarps. Your eyebrows raised, “is this your new art studio, Feyre? Are you going to teach Rhys how to paint?”
She giggles and Rhys rolls his eyes at you, setting the things in his arms down before kissing you on the top of your head. You lean into his touch before he pulls away, softly telling you, “we’re helping you paint the place - white walls are boring.”
In the days to come over the next week, you had multiple visitors. They all made you feel better while they were here, but whenever they left you felt that Azriel shaped hole in your heart all over again. Cassian had been the first after Feyre to visit, barreling into your apartment, nearly squeezing the life out of you once he got in the door, upset he had to wait so long to see you.
“Cass, it’s been four days.”
“The house’s not the same without you.”
“I highly doubt that.”
Cassian gave you a look that you didn’t like, and the two of you were teetering on the edge of the forbidden. You had asked Feyre to tell everyone they can come visit, but not to talk about Azriel in any way.
Unfortunately, much of Cassian’s life involves Azriel so he had a much harder time than everyone else. Any time he’d veer into Azriel territory, he’d quickly go, “oops” and cover his mouth very quickly, as if he had cursed in front of a child.
Elain had visited the next day, offering to help you prepare some potted window plants. The two of you walked through the Velaris markets, Elain prattling on about different kinds of plants. You knew she was trying to distract you, help you pick up the pieces of your broken life. So you picked out different plants for your windowsill, the weight of them in your arms much lighter than the weight of your emotions.
It was hard wandering the streets with Elain - this city felt so much like him, the streets littered with cafes the two of you frequented. Elain, whose presence you enjoyed greatly, felt like a stabbing reminder of what you lost.
You know Elain came in with you when you got back to your apartment, repotting the plants into the window planter she brought. Fresh dirt covered their roots, allowing them to grow in their new place. You can’t remember what Elain spoke about, just nodding along with her until you eventually found yourself alone again.
Each day brought a new member of Azriel’s family to visit, and you loved them, truly loved them, but it was hard to feel like they were coming for you as opposed to coming on behalf of him. You knew they loved you, despite whatever was happening between you and Azriel, but your interactions were always colored with him in the background.
You had been expecting Nesta to show up when you opened the door to find Azriel looking back at you.
You were a bit surprised at the restraint he maintained waiting so long, a whole week passing since you had left, but you said all you wanted to say in that note. You wanted him to feel awful, to finally see how you were feeling.
You just hated that it came to this to get him to see you.
He looked terrible. His shadows were pooled at his feet, darting towards you with affection, dancing around you. His wings were practically dragging on the floor, his shoulders sagged, his hair was a mess. His eyes looked lifeless, his jaw covered in stubble.
Good.
“Azriel,” you bit out, not an ounce of affection in your tone. “May I help you?”
“I want you to come home.” His words were clipped, agitation clear in his voice.
“This is my home, you may come in for a few minutes if you want to talk.”
You didn’t really want to invite him in, wanting him to stand outside your door, feeling as unwanted as you had for so many months. But you had new neighbors, and you weren’t sure you wanted to find out how nosy they were with this conversation.
The sight of him made you so angry, but a tiny part of you wanted to reach out to him, running your fingers through his hair, and coax him to come to bed so the two of you could actually sleep.
He shut the door behind him before turning back to you.
“Please, come back. I’ll be better.”
Your hands nestle onto your hips, your jaw rotating in annoyance. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
He sighs, his feet moving of their own accord across your floor, pacing back and forth on the hardwood floor.
“Was I not enough for you?”
His words send you into a tailspin of rage, your vision going red. “Azriel,” you say, voice rising, “that’s a funny thing to ask, when you were never there! I gave you everything. Endless excuses, endless empathy. I spent so much time telling people that what you were doing was okay, that I forgot it wasn’t! You weren’t there!”
His hands run down his face, shaking his head in denial. His shadows swirled the room, and you could hear them whispering to him, but what they were saying you couldn’t make out.
“You’re the one who decided that everything I had wasn’t enough for you.”
Your words hit their mark, and the Illyrian before you halts and removes his hands from his face, looking nothing like the formidable soldier he was, but rather the boy he had been. You take a deep breath, opening your door once more behind him.
“I needed you to risk something, I needed you to choose me.”
You stop forward, pushing him through the threshold.
“Most of all, I needed you to choose yourself, too.”
You shut the door on him, leaning your forehead against the wood. The place was suffocating you with its silence. It was a new silence, compared to the one you’d wait in while Azriel was off.
This one felt full of hope and possibilities.
-
Three decades passed since that fateful night, but you could still see Azriel’s eyes in the shadows some nights. You hated burning candles - the way the shadows flickered and danced reminded you of the shadows that curled your fingers, the ones that kept you company whenever Azriel spent too long away.
You had dated here and there since Azriel - none of them lasting more than a few years. They were fine - all attractive, all nice, but they all ended for one reason or another. One moved to a different court, which you didn’t want to do. Another’s mother didn’t like you and it just didn’t work out after that. Several relationships fizzled out because there just wasn’t a spark between you two. You felt cursed, unlucky in love, destined to be alone.
Or perhaps destined to always be heartbroken.
It wasn’t all bad - you just weren’t lucky with romance. You had fallen back in love with Velaris a few years after leaving Azriel, the city lights coaxing you back. You had actually considered leaving entirely, the city feeling too much of him.
Until one day, about five years after you left, you had walked the Sidra one night, the reflections of the street lights giving the city and the river a new glow.
It enchanted you, waking you up from the stupor you had been in for so long.
After that, you spent a lot of your time around Velaris - running events for the city, making friends with several of the business owners. It felt good to find a new support system in the city - one not connected to your ex boyfriend.
You clutch your coat tighter around yourself as you weave through the streets of Velaris, heading back to your apartment. You walk by some apartments, a few men standing around outside, their boisterous laughs making you feel uneasy. One of them starts calling for you, but you ignore his words and walk faster.
You heard footsteps behind you, and you turned a corner hoping he’d stop following you.
“Leave her alone.”
You knew that voice - the deep timbre one you heard in occasional dreams, calling to you even after all these years. You stop your fast walking, turning just in time to make eye contact with those hazel eyes you’ve been dreaming of forever. You can’t run - he’s already stopped still at the sight of you, as if time was stopping for this unexpected reunion.
He stands behind the guy who was following you, his face peering over the male’s shoulder at you.
“She your bitch?”
Azriel’s growl shocks you, and the male turns, allowing his siphons to glow bright in the night. The male stops his chuckling, replaced with deep apologies, running off in the other direction as Azriel moves closer to you, and the two of you start walking in the direction towards your apartment.
The streets are quiet as Azriel follows your lead, his boots scuffing the cobblestone street. It felt strange to be next to him again, the wind rippling against the skin of his wings a sound you never thought you’d hear again.
He clears his throat, “sorry about them.” He gestures behind himself before adding, “I saw them yelling at some female and just wanted to keep anything from happening.”
You look up at him, drinking in his appearance. Thirty years had passed since he came to your apartment that day - since you yelled and screamed at him. You had wanted to yell more that day, but you were so drained from how things ended, you just wanted to move on. He looked much the same - his jawline sharp, his large nose littered with the freckles you loved so much. They were more prominent now, likely a result of the summer sun. His hair was a little lighter, cut a little shorter than you remembered it, the curls lightly dusting the top of his forehead.
You had hardly spoken to much of his family recently, your new job and not living in one of their properties making it quite difficult to schedule dinners and lunches. The last time you saw any of them was either when Elain visited you about six years ago or when you saw Cassian in a coffee shop, a tiny babe in his arms some odd years ago.
You had caught glimpses of the inner circle over the years - a wave to Feyre across a restaurant, the sight of Rhys’s smirk through a window, the bookshop clerk down the street mentioning Nesta. Glimpses of their lives, but you never allowed yourself to stop for too long to get caught back into their orbit.
You had once been so integrated into the family, but it was hard to continue when you pulled away from Azriel. They loved you, you knew that, but they were his family and it never felt quite right without him, every one of your conversations with them overshadowed by the lack of Azriel. So, you had pulled back. It’s not what they wanted, it’s not what you wanted, but it was what you needed.
So many things were the same, but he somehow looked lighter, as if the weight of the world weren’t on his shoulders anymore. It made him look so free and so beautiful.
Maybe he found someone who could finally help against his demons.
“It’s quite alright - I actually should thank you for that and for walking me home. I wouldn’t feel comfortable walking home alone after that.”
You two continue on in silence, the only sound your shoes against the cobblestones and the fae moving about on the streets, heading off for their nights to start as yours ended on this strange note. The silence was lingering for too long, old emotions stirring beneath the surface. You had to break the tension.
“Is Cassian a dad now?”
Azriel’s eyes widened before throwing his head back laughing. You had almost forgotten just how beautiful that sound was. Almost. “Fuck no.”
His chuckles bounce off the streets of Velaris as he mutters, “but he and Nesta still fuck like they’re desperate for one.”
“But I swear I saw him out with a kid with wings a few years ago.”
Azriel stops to think for a moment before squinting his eyes a bit, “do you remember the issues we had with wing clipping?” You nod, remembering how just the details of some of the things Azriel’s seen at the hands of his people made you queasy. “We helped a few of the women escape the camps - we’ve been trying to make safe spaces for them to live in to prove to the males that they don’t need them. It’s slow, but we’ve got a few dozen living in and around Velaris.”
Wow, you thought. Your smile is genuine as you congratulate him, “that’s impressive, Az!” He shakes his head at your celebratory tone. “Really, I know progress is slow with them, but that’s great.” You beam up at him before scratching the back of your head, “but it still doesn’t explain the kid I saw.”
“A few of the females brought their kids with them, and Cassian likes to spend time with each of them one-on-one. He says it’s a good excuse to get ice cream, but I think he just likes seeing them have a present male in their lives.”
You two continue winding through the streets, a cool breeze lifting through your hair. It was so odd to be here with him, odder still for this to feel normal. Azriel clears his throat, his voice a bit uncertain, “I’ve been uh delegating more.”
You pause, feet stopping on the road. They’re just words, nothing more, but Azriel’s never delegated. A true perfectionist to his core, he never even considered delegating any task Rhys asks of him. You turn to look at him, his hazel eyes looking back to you full of regret and longing.
“I’ve been uh, using some of the spies under me more. I’ve been trusting them with more important work.”
The two of you reached your apartment door, the same one Feyre had painted silver all those years ago. You can hear his shaky breath as he continued. “I don’t deserve you. I never have. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, I don’t-“ he sighs. “I don’t deserve you, but I do deserve love.”
His voice breaks at that and some piece of you shatters all over again at how poorly he was treated to never feel like he deserved anything good or kind.
“This is coming out all wrong,” he huffs, tugging lightly at some of his hair, “but Madja’s been helping me for a long time. I- it’s so hard to let me be deserving of love. I always felt I had to earn it. I felt I had to do the impossible things asked of me and that would finally make me worthy.”
He sighs, a slight thump from the door as he leans his forehead against it.
“I am worthy of being loved. And so are you.”
His hands are shaking, but his shadows wrapped around them, forming something similar to tight fitting gloves, offering some kind of security to him to continue.
“If the damage is too much, I understand. You can tell me to fuck off at any point. But if… if you would let me, I’d like to.. I’d like to show you that I’m trying. That I’ve been working on myself.”
You continue to look up at him, gobsmacked at this confessional from him.
“It’s hard. I couldn’t make progress overnight, hence my long absence. But I have made progress. I’ve uh actually been taking days off. I started going on trips to Day and Summer a few years back. I read three books at the beach a few months ago, actually.”
He laughs at the absurdity of his trip - a vacation. Something he’s never done. To spend days on his own, nothing but a book to keep him company is all you’ve ever wanted from him.
A pause. A breath. But he keeps going, needing to get his jumbled thoughts out of his head and into yours.
“It’s been a long time, but I think about you every day. I’ve probably made a fool of myself out here, but if there is any way you aren’t seeing anyone and if any part of you misses me at all…” He trails off, his fist lightly hitting the door. “I just wanted you to know that I’m trying. I’m bettering myself. I am better. I know it’s late, but..”
He trails off, unsure of how to finish his sentence. Your silence was eerie, leading him to keep talking, his words unable to stop.
“I just- I never wanted things to get here. I was foolish, and I didn’t appreciate you. It took you leaving to realize I could not continue like I was… I can’t.. Let myself hurt the people I care about anymore.”
You stay rooted, pressed against the door, not moving.
They were just words, the same things that hurt you over the years of broken promises and missed dates. But they’re so thought out. He’s had thirty years to mull things over, and he feels so much lighter than before.
You’re conflicted, but the optimist in you wins out as your voice finally finds you.
“Show me.”
-
Every Sunday for several weeks at 8 AM Azriel would stand on your doorstep and knock gently. You would open the door and he would present you with a bouquet of flowers - varieties of colors and species made their home on your dining room table as the weeks go by.
The two of you stroll through the city. The city you loved so dearly and for so long, parts of it feeling impossible to look at without thinking of the male next to you.
He would usually open up with some story about Cassian or Rhysand to break the ice. Then he’d tell you about his week - where Rhysand had sent him off, what he did on his days off that weren’t Sunday, anything that stood out. The two of you wander the streets, only stopping for occasional treats to eat while continuing your walk.
As the weeks go by, he starts filling you in on the past thirty years. For a long time, he saw Madja almost daily. She began providing him with herbs that helped regulate his moods, helped him sleep better, and helped him feel better. She also began having him comb through the deepest parts of himself he tried to forget, the memories of that little boy abandoned in that dungeon. He’d also tell you about how the rest of the Inner Circle was doing - Feyre and Rhys were trying for a baby, Elain was traveling a lot, Nesta and Cassian were… Nesta and Cassian.
Now he only sees Madja every other week, and she seems quite impressed by his progress. She should be, you think, he’s a far cry from the male you kicked out of your apartment all those decades ago.
After a few weeks, you began opening up to him as well. How hard it was to leave, your relationships in your time apart, how empty everything had felt without him, how you’d developed some strong friendships in the years apart.
“I had to pick up the pieces of myself too, Az.”
His heart pangs with guilt, but you reach out for his elbow, eyes bright with beginnings.
“I always wondered what I’d do if you came back to me, but I never thought you’d be how you are now. You seem so… light?” Your voice comes out more like a question, and you chuckle. “You just seem so different, but in a good way.”
“I feel different. I feel like I’m not… like I’m not that little boy anymore. Like I don’t have to prove myself to be loved. If not by you, by someone.”
His words linger in the air and you couldn’t help the pride that swelled in your chest at his words.
“I do want it to be you, though. If you’d have me, that is.”
Your heart wanted you to lean forward, wanted nothing more than for you to wrap yourself in his embrace. But before either of you could move forward, you had to know, one way or another.
“Why did you keep pushing the wedding back?”
Your voice was soft and shaky, but the question had been lingering on your mind for so long, it was on the tip of your tongue every time the two of you met up.
“I couldn’t tell you before because you would have been so nice about it, but I- I thought I was ruining you. I didn’t want you, so kind, so wonderful, to be tethered to me for all eternity. But I was too selfish to let you go. I still am, I suppose.”
He shrugs, his shoulders folding inward toward you, his wings drooping a bit. “I know now how ridiculous that sounds, but I.. wanted you but I also wanted better for you.”
He turned toward you, his skin shining like gold in the sun. He was radiant - a word hardly ever used for him before. He looked as Helion does, as if the sun was redirecting its rays through him.
“So I became better for you, for myself, for my family.”
And that was what you needed to hear. It was never about you (in many ways it was), but at the end of the day, you always wanted what was best for the both of you.
And he became that.
On a beautiful summer day, you stood on your tiptoes, your hands reaching upwards to pull his face into yours.
And by gods even his kisses felt lighter.
Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen
Azriel taglist: @brieflyclassymortal @thisiskaylin
People who asked for a part two: @piceous21 @itsswritten @leeknows-wife @12344321heyyy @cauldronboilmetakemetovelaris @naturakaashi @janebirkln @slut4acotar @kaitttttttt @queerqueenlynn @anuttellaa @dee-writes-smut @bunnyredgirl @historygeekqueen @michealharrypotter @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @dyingsinglecuzimfangirl @crazylokonugget @yearninglustfully
Thanks for reading 💕
#acotar fanfiction#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel fanfic#azriel fluff#acotar writing#azriel#azriel x y/n#azriel angst
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end of an era || jenni hermoso x reader ||
things don't always get better, but jenni tries to help you.
major angst warning, like implied/mentioned suicide attempt angst. proceed with caution.
everything and everyone went silent the moment you fell. it was daunting to watch back as you replayed the stream of your last game over and over again. jenni sighed as she glanced over at you. the two of you had been waiting in the doctor's office for hours now to see how your surgery had gone. both of you knew that it was going to be a long and hard road back, one that you honestly weren't even sure you'd have the chance to attempt.
"will you turn it off please?" jenni asked you. she was beyond trying to be nice about it. you got upset every single time that you watched it, and jenni hated hearing you get hit and go down again and again. she hadn't been there for that game, and it was one of her greatest regrets.
your teammates had told jenni how you had been immediately following the game. jenni almost couldn't believe it, not until she saw for herself that every ounce of happiness had been sucked out of you. you had become obsessive, attempting to figure out where you could have done something to reduce the damage. rather than listen to the countless people who had assured you time and time again that it was a freak accident, you still searched for an answer.
"it's not like i have anything else to do," you grumbled. jenni was really starting to get on your nerves. she was always a little annoying, but it had gone from being endearing to infuriating. "they're just going to tell me that i'm finished. my career is over, even if i can make a comeback. it will be too fucking late, jenni."
"no. no, stop talking like that. you're gonna be fine," jenni told you. oh how you wished that the doctors hadn't made her out to be a liar. jenni believed her words right up until the surgeon came in with a team of people that neither of you had ever seen before.
you felt numb as they gave the time frame of your possible return. it would be well over a year since you required multiple surgeries to fix the tears and breaks. you didn't understand how you had fucked up your body so badly, and it was obvious that jenni didn't either. however, you weren't left wondering for very long. the doctor mentioned old injuries that hadn't healed properly, claiming that your leg was a ticking time bomb that had been resting for nearly a decade.
"that was a waste of fucking time," you grumbled as you rushed towards the car. you were on crutches, so you weren't really moving that fast. jenni had slowed her pace down signficantly to keep up with you. she was carrying your bags, something that you only let her do today because she normally did it for you anyway.
"no, we have a timeline now. that's a good first step towards getting you back to where you need to be." jenni sounded so optimistic still, but you knew that it didn't matter. you'd miss the olympics, and you'd definitely have to retire by the next world cup. your time was running out, and it had essentially been cut in half by your injury.
"jenni, i'll be lucky if i ever get to step foot on a pitch again. let's just get home. i need a fucking drink." you got into the car, ignoring the look that jenni gave you. she was worried about you, despite you technically not doing anything worrisome yet.
you were depressed, and rightfully so. jenni had hoped that the doctors would have some good news for you, but they hadn't. your mood reflected that in the coming weeks as you moped around until you were cleared to start your physical therapy and rehab. your schedule for that was pretty light, especially since you had at least two more surgeries before you were in the clear.
jenni was great, and despite it being her off season, she didn't go back to spain. instead, she had moved temporarily to america to take care of you. you could tell that the move was hard on her, but she couldn't think of letting you stay by yourself. she was afraid that you'd do something stupid or dangerous if she left you alone.
you hated it, and because of that, you started to hate her as well. you hated that jenni kept looking at you like you were made of glass. you hated that she touched you so gently whenever all you wanted was for her to hold you down against the mattress and make you forget the past four months of your life. you hated jenni, and even more so, you hated that she never showed any resentment towards you.
there was always only ever going to be so much that jenni could handle. ten months out of your injury with only one more surgery to go, it all came crashing down around the two of you. the cracks in jenni's patience with you were starting to show, so she had taken a little vacation to spain without you. it wasn't for more than a few days, but it was long enough for your anger to betray you and turn into complete despair.
you had a family history of being fucked up. addiction, depression, anxiety, and a long list of other issues had plagued nearly every other member of your family for as long as you could remember. your parents had both tried to prepare you for the worst of it, and for a time, you thought that you had seen it. you had forgone taking your pain medicine because you had been terrified fo getting hooked on it. there never should have been so many pills in the house, but jenni knew she couldn't have just taken your extra ones with her to spain.
you wanted to call jenni, but she'd talk you down. you didn't feel like you deserved it. you had treated her so badly for nearly a year, to the point where she left the continent to get away from you. however, you believed that you owed her at least a text. something to thank her for taking care of you and apologize for being such a piece of shit for so long.
the time zone different meant that jenni should have been fast asleep. you didn't count on jenni being wide awake at 2 am. how could you have known that she hadn't been sleeping well since you got hurt. the vacation to spain should have been relaxing, but jenni couldn't quiet the voice in the back of her head warning her that you still weren't doing any better mentally. that was why she hadn't even finished reading your text before she was calling some of your american teammates to check up on you, hopeful that it wasn't too late.
…
"i'm here! i'm here!" jenni was nearly tripping over herself as she ran into your hospital room. she stopped when she saw you. you had expected her to start yelling at you or something, but instead she just broke down in front of you.
"i'm sorry," you apologized. jenni tried to tell you not to be sorry, but she couldn't get it out. all she could do is kneel by your bed and cry as your hand weakly ran through your hair. "it should have worked."
"i-is that how you really feel?" jenni asked you. you realized that wasn't at all what she wanted to hear, and suddenly you were filled with guilt. all of that hate and anger that you had felt before came back, but this time it was fully directed towards yourself.
"yes," you whispered. jenni wiped her eyes and stood up as she stared down at you. "i've been awful to you. how can you still love me?"
"are you fucking stupid?" jenni regretted her words as soon as they left her mouth. for the first time in months, jenni finally saw you cry. "shit. shit, shit, shit, c'mere. i'm sorry, i didn't mean it like that. i love you, i want to see you get better."
"jenni, i'm not sure that there is a better. what if i come back and this happens all over again? i think that i need to retire and take some time by myself," you told her.
"a-are you breaking up with me?" jenni asked you. there was a flash of anger in her eyes, one that completely overshadowed the hurt. "i took care of you for almost a year. i waited for you to get better, to be yourself again because i love you so much. you can't just make a decision like this by yourself, not when you aren't in the right headspace."
"jenni, they're keeping me here on a hold for a while until i can prove that i'm okay. i'm selling my place here. i don't want us to be over, but i think that if you can find someone who actually deserves you while i'm gone, then you should go for it. and if you don't by the time that i'm better, then i'd really like you to consider letting me come back to you," you told her. jenni didn't like the sound of that, but it wasn't a clear breakup. it was a break, if anything, and jenni knew for a fact that she wouldn't find someone else unless you actually forced her to. "i've already been let out of my contracts, they're just waiting to make the announcements."
"i wish that you'd reconsider this, but i am glad that you can make rational decisions," jenni said. you nodded as you gave her hand a little squeeze. there was a chair by your bed, but jenni crawled right in next to you. she had a couple days to stay with you before you were moved to the facility that you'd call home for as long as it took you to get better. jenni didn't know when you'd be back, but she kept a calendar to keep count of the days you were gone.
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it hurts me. the chaggie hurts me s o good
Vaggie having been such a great murder soldier (one of the best exorcists) (battalions worth of dead souls piled under her lost wings)
but Protect Charlie and Support Charlie became so important to her (the revelation of reaching out to strangers to heal hurts instead of causing them) she for real got out of practice with actual physical fighting bc she was busy helping Charlie with the emotional battles instead-
it feels so good.
it's such a big and happy difference, from vaggie the exorcist
she's fighting for her girl every time she holds Charlie's hand and it's NOT what she's trained for or is always good at, solving people problems without just stabbing anyone who hurts Charlie or gets in Charlie's way- soldier life bleeding through even when Vaggie tries so hard- (a life lived with the kind of people who would use cutting out someone's eye and ripping off their wings as a solution to a problem)
but she says herself she wants to be Charlie's ARMOR. she could have said spear, could have said she wants to be the blade that cuts through all Charlie's problems-
she doesn't want that. Amor, something that stays close, something not meant to hurt, something that isn't a weapon. not anymore
even if it (she) isn't used to that yet
and you know what. maybe that's what getting saved by Charlie actually meant.
Charlie didn't pull her down from heaven- she wasn't the reason that Vaggie looked at a kid in hell and couldn't go through with sticking a spear in them
but without Charlie, Vaggie could still have been a spear raised and redirected towards heaven. even after years in a peaceful life Vaggie still reaches for her spear so quick, how fast on the draw would she've been if Charlie wasn't there? hadn't been there?
(if kindness hadn't pulled her out of that alleyway, would the chance for revenge at the next extermination day have gotten Vaggie moving instead? would the first dead angel have been found years earlier- or would it have been her- a loose end that didn't unravel quietly getting neatly cut away?)
that didn't happen. Charlie was out looking to help people on extermination day. she did find Vaggie
and with Charlie, the spear is a prop more than anything else. part of Vaggie yes, probably forever- not a NEEDED one though. an old instinct always at the ready while not having to be used much anymore.
life with Charlie is Vaggie carrying a spear, sure.... and also growing out her hair. not being used to fighting with it long, because she hasn't had to be fighting
she's still been able to fight for girlfriend anyway
Charlie isn't asking power or wins from her. that's not what the princess of hells needs.
Charlie needs the hand that holds hers during a hard call with her dad, the hug waiting for her when she comes back after a bad day, the soft smile not judging her for telling herself stories when she's sad- likes that side of her, actually-
the woman who knows every embarrassing personal thing about Charlie because Charlie trusted her not to make fun of it, trusted that Vaggie loved her
Charlie needs the push of Vaggie's words telling her it's time to make that hard call to her dad in the first place, the later unshakable reassurance from Vaggie when Charlie breaks down crying before the battle (breaking down over not being able give Angel Dust the better life she promised, everyone in even more danger now instead)
and Vaggie (pragmatic, realistic, honest Vaggie) does not tell her that things will be okay and they'll win their upcoming fight- but that Charlie has already done so much.
if for no one else, then at the very least for Vaggie
Charlie really has, hasn't she. 'just' by seeing Vaggie as a person she saved her from being nothing but a soldier, a weapon, the hair trigger response of someone who learned trust on a battle field and had her body torn and scarred by the people she trusted-
but now Vaggie does the worst damage to the people who hurt her when she holds her girlfriend's hand. she grumbles but gives people chances, often stressed but just as often smiling in her new life with Charlie. she goes back up to HEAVEN (even though she really really doesn't want to) because her girlfriend takes her hand and askes her with big soft eyes and says they're partners- it's such a change from being a soldier following orders.
partnership is all Charlie's asking for
and fucking HELL if Vaggie hasn't answered by being there in the darkest moments, tugging Charlie gently back into the light of their shared dreams and the reality of having someone there to share them with
and uh, also getting charlie to call her dad
....and.... yeeting random lit bombs out the nearest new hole in their hotel, when someone hands it to her gf and charlie gets sidetracked trying to politely juggle the thing...
.....
how DID charlie manage before she equipped the smol spear gf??
#habin hotel#vaggie#charlie morningstar#chaggie#hmmmm gay thoughts hmm#deep down vaggie will probably always kinda wanna stab ppl#BUT#holding the gf's hand is more fun~
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I'm thinking about the horror of the Doctor from the perspective of non-companions again, especially as it relates to people those companions know.
Rose? "Ran away" (not wrong) for "a year" (a week) with a "man" (alien) "twice her age" (approximately 50 times her age but yeah, he is Time Lord middle aged), and then gives absolutely no explanation for how or why that happened, except that she was "travelling".
Then when her mum does get an explanation (which, frankly, is only comforting because of the unfamiliarity of the alternative given. The devil you know.), Rose barely checks back in.
She almost dies for him. When she thinks he's dead, she's changed in a way her family doesn't know how to handle. Then she's gone for who knows how long and comes back with the Doctor wearing a new face.
When her original tenure as a companion ends, and Rose lives in Pete's World, she works for Torchwood/UNIT (they become the same organization). She volunteers for the Dimension Cannon. She explains to the alternate earth how to rig up a time machine.
She's changed in ways that no one else can really understand.
Amy? There's everything with River Song of course (though I'm still not there in my viewing), him running away with Amy the night before her and Rory's wedding, and also the connection between the Doctor and the Time Crack being the reason all of Amy's family's dead. Obvious stuff.
However he's also the strange man who broke into this child's house and made a mess of her life that she never got over, that promised to take her away from here, that she wrote about and drew and carved and made her friends dress up as.
And they sent her to psychiatrist after psychiatrist without any help. In their perspective, to work through what she imagined. In her perspective, to tell her that her reality wasn't real.
And then he comes back.
And to some extent, later, when he shows himself to everyone, isn't that more frightening? That the story your child told you, of the strange man she met as a child, of time travel, of nearly being stolen away, hadn't been a lie, or a misinterpretation, or an imagining?
And so he shows up at her wedding. And steals her away again.
Donna I feel like has the least horror until her final episode. I think exploring the in between section of her meeting the Doctor and finding him again would be interesting, but not exactly horror. More an exploration of how obsessive the companions can get about him, how it eats their whole lives with even one encounter, even as it makes them better people.
And then, obviously, the horror of having your mind altered and erased against your will by someone you trusted. For your own good, of course. Because he knows best. How could you know better than him? He's ancient. He's practically all knowing.
Shouldn't you be grateful?
(And he's forgiven.)
#doctor who#the doctor#ninth doctor#tenth doctor#amy pond#rose tyler#donna noble#9th doctor#10th doctor#and this is relatively healthy for companion/time lord relationships#we see what it looks like when it goes wrong#its the Master and Lucy#or the Master and Tala#Also while I think you can say that Rose's life was better for having the Doctor in it#she's happier. she has. well. she's happier in the relationship she's in#than the one she was in before.#She wouldn't take it back for the world.#I'm not sure you could say the same about Amy.#Because if it wasn't for the Doctor#then the crack wouldn't have existed in the first place#she wouldn't be AS distrusted by her community#(she was still a strange girl#but it would have been a more “normal” strangeness)#she still would have had Rory. And without the crack#her family too.#y'know?#I have less to say about Donna and I'm not sure what to write about Martha at all. I'm sorry friends. Rose and Amy live in my brain#and make ME pay rent.#rose rambles#none of this is complaining this is what makes dw worth watching sgsfsfd
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Something More
fuckboy!Eddie x fem!reader
summary: you and Eddie have been hooking up with each other for a while and have unknowingly been falling from each other. After overhearing him talking with his friends, you’re convinced that he only sees you as a hook up, but he’s more than willing to show you just how down bad he is for you.
based on a comment from this post!
cw: hurt/comfort
If anyone had asked if you liked Eddie Munson romantically, you would have easily said yes, gushing about how sweet he was despite his reputation for being an asshole. You told anyone who would listen. Everyone besides Eddie, that is. You had been afraid to tell him even though your romantic attraction to each other had only gotten stronger every time you hooked up.
You could tell he was becoming interested by the way your hook ups when he started out by kissing you instead of it all just being penetrative. With the way he held onto you gently as he slowly thrusted into you, nothing but encouraging words falling from his lips.
You and Eddie had also been hanging out outside of hooking up, catching a movie here and there or just cuddling in his bed to watch a tv show. You were falling for him fast and hard and this time, you didn’t want to stop. You didn’t want to run away like you usually did, but you still couldn’t get yourself to mention it to him.
Eddie had invited you over to watch yet another movie and you accepted, finally deciding that you were going to tell him how you felt. Sure, you were terrified of rejection, but you were pretty confident that he felt the same way.
You opened the front door that Eddie unlocked for you, but stopped when you heard other voices. Just by listening, you could tell that it was the usual suspects since Eddie wasn’t really close to anyone else. You were about to close the door and wait out their visit since you didn’t want to intrude, but you stopped when you heard your name.
“What about y/n?” Jeff asked. Your ears perked up at that. What about you? Why had you even been brought up in the conversation? You were just one of Eddie’s many hook up’s, right?
“I don’t know. She’s different.” That statement could have gone either way and you weren’t sure which one he was going to be.
“Different how?” Gareth asked and you stepped closer to hear better.
“I can’t explain it. Sex with her is just…different.” Now he was talking about your sex life with his friends? How often did that happen? Thinking about it made your stomach churn.
“Different, huh? Falling for her already?” Doug teased and you watched Eddie shove him.
Maybe you were wrong and all of the nice things he said were just to get you back into bed with him. That did seem just like him. But maybe it didn’t because you think you knew him well enough to know he wasn’t that kind of guy, no matter what people said.
You went to shut the door, thinking that you had heard enough, but your foot got caught on the step leading into the house, causing you to fall into the foyer with a loud thud. All four pairs of eyes turned to you and Eddie was quick to rise up from the couch.
He rushed to you and helped you to your feet, making sure you were okay and didn’t need any bandages. Once you brushed yourself off, you turned to leave, not wanting Eddie to see the tears that were welling up into your eyes.
You raced out the door and Eddie was hot on your heels, reaching out for you, but you were just out of reach. He called after you as you headed to your car and you stopped as you opened the car door.
“Hey,” he said softly, reaching out to wipe away your tears, but you beat him to it. “What’s with all the tears, hm?”
“Nothing, it’s nothing.” You turned away from him, staring at the driver’s seat, the idea of leaving sounding very inviting.
“It’s not nothing if you’re upset, darling.” The name that usually made your heart flutter now made your stomach feel sour. How dare he call you that after what he had said about you?
“Don’t call me that,” you pointed at him before slamming the car door and standing in front of him. “You don’t have the right anymore since I overheard you talking with the guys.” Tears were welling up in your eyes again and now you weren’t going to stop them.
Eddie honestly had idea what you were talking about. What had you thought you heard? He hadn’t said anything that would have hurt your feelings. At least, he didn’t think he did.
“What did I say?” He was desperate to know so he could fix it. Seeing you cry was like a stab to the heart and he really couldn’t take it anymore. He wanted nothing more than you pull you into his arms and comfort you as long as you needed it.
“You were going to tell Doug that you don’t have feelings for me. Now if you’ll excuse me,” you turned back to your car, but Eddie grabbed your wrist and turned you around to face him. He pulled you to his chest, his brown eyes turning into that honey color you admired.
“I was going to tell him that I have feelings for you.” So you were right. All of your suspicions had been correct and you had been upset for nothing. Now you were beginning to feel stupid.
“You were?” Your lips parted and your eye widened in shock, still in disbelief.
“I was. I’m in love you with.” Your mouth fell open at his words and then a wide grin broke out on your face as you threw your arms around his neck. For once in your life, your feelings were actually reciprocated.
“You are?” Your words came out as a whisper but Eddie could hear you loud and clear.
“Completely and totally,” he breathed, his arms wrapping tighter around your waist. As soon as the words left his mouth, you pressed your lips to his, pulling him in for a kiss.
Eddie let out a gasp but quickly melted into you, moving his lips with yours. You smiled into the kiss and he couldn’t help but smile as well, the both of you laughing into each other’s mouths, your teeth clicking together.
“In case it wasn’t obvious, I love you too,” you told him, pressing another kiss to his lips.
“And thank god for that,” he replied, slotting his lisp between yours, that being one of many kisses to come.
#stranger things#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson hurt/comfort
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— BRIGHTER PLACES. (TEASER) a Lee Felix fiction
Chef! Lee Felix x gn. reader
TROPE. cooking class au, childhood friends to lovers, reader is burnt out and slightly depressed, coincidences, fluff, angst
WARNINGS. mentions of depression/depressive episodes, mentions of unrequited love, burn out
AUG'S NOTES. yes this fic is out of the blue (when aren’t my fics out of the blue??) but UGH does this piece really tax my emotions and i love it a billion for it — i need felix as my therapist for a day.. tell me what you think of the teaser!
SYNOPSIS. Thrown asunder beneath crushing assignments, work, and the fleeting hope your “young and free” twenties experience may someday happen, you had yet to realize said experience was right around the corner. Whisked into a mixture of unearthed feelings and past occurrences, presented with a cherry on top by renowned Chef Lee Felix.
or alternatively :
Eventually, the sun will shine again.
Out of any gift you’ve received, you thought the treehouse in your backyard was the most memorable. It seemed like, in this vast universe, everything was right.
Then it wasn’t, then it was. Again and again. A repetitive cycle.
However, your overcast days did have an expiration date, and sunshine would eventually show itself again.
You just weren’t aware yet.
.
.
.
At seven years old, you would spend hours daydreaming, inviting friends, taking naps, and reading in your treehouse. Oftentimes, during the long days of summer, you’d eat lunch up there; lost in this secluded world only you knew about.
When you’re younger, every little thing appears peach-tinted.
The warm fire of a candle on a nightstand, setting dull objects ablaze with its brightness. Shadow puppets, dance parties. So ordinary yet exceptional all the same. Easy to configure from a developing mind as something excellent, fantastical.
Your twenties don’t envelop a hazy glow. Mind now hardened, treehouse still lingering (more like rotting) in the backyard of your parents house, things are more serious, less inviting.
Who knew adulthood would be this lonesome.
Walking from a bar, you fail to appreciate the hum of music from a buzzed radio, the wafting smell of Italian food hidden somewhere in the midst of neon signs and outdoor eateries.
Instead, priorities had lodged themselves indefinitely far into your soul, drowning out the voice telling you you’re you, not the expectations you’re held to.
Further and further did you drift into that intoxicating headspace, until someone—or, in your case, something—had to pull you out.
That something being a cooking—well, baking class. This weekend, an hour and a half. Menu: The Ideal Donuts.
“Think of it as a release,” Sana had told you, this wide, excited smile etching the skin of her face.
Immediately, you wanted to hand it back to her, tell the eccentric best friend of yours to spend such an occasion on herself instead.
Yet, you knew better than to try negotiating with Sana, the girl who has been present through your ugliest moments, who you’ve cried to more times than able to count.
Your intention wasn’t an attempt to make your life as miserable as possible. In fact, each day you strived for a resource, an indication things would grow better, as better as it seemed to be for everyone else.
Though you can only stretch a rubber band so far, and once it reaches its farthest extent, it snaps.
And the recoil stings.
“Okay, thank you.” You respond after a beat of silence, lips pulled into a tight line, investigating the information written on the card.
She pats your shoulder, a sweet smile worn upon pink lipstick.
Lee’s Baking Class.
Lee. The name sounds familiar.
sunboki, may 2022 ©
#skz x reader#skz x you#skz x y/n#straykids x y/n#straykids x you#straykids x reader#straykids fluff#straykids angst#stray kids fluff#stray kids angst#skz angst#skz fluff#stray kids x y/n#stray kids x you#stray kids x reader#lee felix x y/n#lee felix x you#lee felix angst#skz lee felix#lee felix fluff#lee felix x reader#skz x gn reader#stray kids x gender neutral reader#skz felix x reader#skz felix fluff
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Hi love! I love your works and writing style so-so much! May I please request Bakugou falling in love with a weak and sick fem!reader that is bound to hospital bed because of her disease (she can walk but she is too weak to do so). They could meet at the hospital while she still had strength to walk. Basically, he falls in love with her watching her wither away.My heart is craving angst and some soft Bakugou💔It's okay if you can't write it. Anyway, thank you!!! Sending you lots of love 🩷🩷
THE PROMISE
katsuki x fem!sickreader
synopsis: katsuki fell in love with you, but all good things must come to an end
author note: my first writing request i will treasure this forever!
cw: sick reader, the sickness is not specific, mentions of dying
“thank you for coming dynamite! the kids will be excited to see you here!” a woman in scrubs bowed in thanks, which katsuki only grunted at.
“don’t have to bow or anything, but you’re welcome” katsuki dipped his head a bit as a sign of respect. the woman held her clipboard with a smile.
“well aren’t you humble? come on now, the kids are right this way”
the nurse led him through a pair of doors that were decorated with stickers and kids names from top to bottom.
katsuki had decided that he would spend his volunteer days at the local hospital. it was either that or wearing a hairnet at the local soup kitchen. telling kids about some of his battles and even doing a damn craft if he had to.
now he had thought the doors were colorful, but the room was something else. children’s drawings were hung up all over the ceiling being held together by small clothespins and wire. there were shelves of toys and stuffed animals across just one wall, and a playmat for a safe area to have fun in.
though there were no kids on the playmat letting their imaginations run wild with dolls. neither were there at the easel’s painting a new picture to hang up.
they were all sitting at the table enthralled with something in front of them. katsuki was about to get their attention before he heard your voice.
“and then they came in contact with the evil king. he sat on top of his throne which towered above the hero and the princess”
“why’d he make his throne so high up?” one of the kids asked eyebrows scrunched together.
“because the king thought he was better than everyone. thought everyone was small compared to him, but that’s not the right mindset to have” the child nodded in understanding which allowed you to go on “then the king yelled out to the two-“ you looked up finally noticing the pro hero staring into your soul. your next words stopped in your throat at his presence.
blinking your eyes you gained your composure again sending the kids a smile “the king yelled out you’re gonna have to wait until next week to find out” all the the kids screamed ‘no!’ collectively, disappointed that their story time was being cut short. all you could do was laugh as they all gathered near your legs begging you to continue the story.
“i don’t think you’ll want to hear any more of the story when you see the special guest" all of the kids immediately turned around at your words now noticing the big pro hero that had been lingering behind them.
"dynamite!" they all screamed and went over to him as fast as they could. he was now being bombarded with questions and stories about himself.
"guys c'mon! let him breathe" you walked over giving him a smile "sorry, they're just really excited"
katsuki shook his head at your words "it's fine. better then damn villains attacking me-"
"he said a bad word! y/n he said a bad word!" the kids started feeding off of each other's energy until it turned into a full on shouting match.
"i heard it everyone don't worry, but dynamite is an adult so he's allowed to say the bad words" you gently tugged the kids away from dynamite so he could collect himself. some part in you hoped he had something planned, but he just seemed to stand there awkwardly. this was nothing like the hot-headed hero you saw on the television. he shifted his weight from one foot to the other looking at the kids, then up at you again. catching the memo you nodded.
"why don't we all introduce ourselves to dynamite, yeah? go find a seat and then we can start"
he watched as all of the kids followed your instructions without further push back. katsuki sent a subtle nod your way in which you returned "right this way dynamite"
you led him over to the chair you were sitting in "you can sit right here then we can go over names" katsuki sat down in the chair, but had to scoot up to the edge of it. between his hero suit and wide hips fitting in the chair simply wasn't going to happen.
for the next hour you directed as the kids introduced themselves and were able to ask the hero questions. katsuki answered most of the kids questions, well the one's that weren't 'do you have a girlfriend?' or 'why do you look mad all the time?'. your personal favorite being 'why do you sweat so much?'. as soon as it came out of the kid's mouth you burst out in laughter.
dynamite rolled his eyes not even looking at you "glad you found that funny"
"sorry! just- just wasn't expecting that"
by the time the last question was answered it was time for them to go back to their individual rooms "everybody say thank you to dynamite!"
"thank you dynamite!" they yelled out before filing out of the room one by one. there was a smile on your face as you turned to clean up but immediately jumped at the sight of the pro hero that was now particularly close to you.
"hi!" it came out in such a high pitch you had to clear your throat to make sure you were alright "thanks for spending time with the kids. they really enjoyed it i could tell"
"good"
his empty response only left you more confused. blinking away the confusion you put back on that polite smile of yours "well i'm just going to go clean" you stepped away from him walking over to the table. you had gotten the bright idea that each kid should make colorful nametags and give them to the pro hero.
"what was i doing wrong?" he asked quickly, but you still caught it.
"excuse me?"
"what was i doing wrong? cause some of the kids were looking at me like i was stupid when you walked in"
a smile crept onto your lips hearing his words. the katsuki bakugo asking for feedback.
"well i know you're a blunt man, so let me be blunt with you. when you walked in you kinda looked stupid. like you just got shocked by lightning and couldn't move. correct me if i'm wrong. that's probably because you don't have much experience with kids"
he scratched his chin a light stubble growing on his chin. he hasn't had much time to shave "i don't"
you could tell that there was more that he wanted to say, but couldn't bring himself to say it. taking one of the pencil boxes you slid it back into place "if you wanted to visit again. i could teach you some of the things i've learned along the years. i could take you on a walk around the hospital" his eyes stayed glues to the floor making you just a bit nervous "i didn't want to assume but the kids really had fun. plus i know they would love if you came back"
taking his fingers off of his chin he looked up. there was no way the paparazzi was catching him in a hairnet "okay, let’s go, show me around the hospital"
you raised your eyebrow at his swift demands and stepped aside to show him the mess on the table "i know you're some popular pro hero, but here? you're a volunteer. so what we're going to is clean this place up. then we'll see about that walk" you went over and gave him a pat on the shoulder "welcome to the team"
the next two months went by pretty quickly. he would come to hang out with the kids and you'd help him with how to interact with them and setting up activities. and after all the festivities were over you would take him on walks around the hospital.
this was the third month he had come, and you were showing him the gardens. the two of you had established your own kind of relationship with each other built on respect. he even let you call him bakugo now.
"sometimes i like to bring the kids out here and teach them all about the plants and how to garden. they don't like it because they're learning though. they like it because they're big dirtballs and love to play in the flowerbeds"
this made katsuki let out a stiff chuckle. he would take this to his grave, but he was genuinely enjoying the time that he volunteered here. his manager didn't have to threaten him with late night shifts just to blindly pick up volunteer hours anymore. there was some sort of fulfillment he got out of hearing the kids call "mr. dynamite" when they had a question. or when they laughed so hard their tiny stomach's hurt just because he called them "little brats". he watched as you went to sit down on a nearby bench going to make sure that the flowers next to them had been watered recently.
plus, he didn't mind spending alone time with you either.
he sat down next to you moving his focus over to your hands "you know a damn lot about this hospital. how long you been a volunteer?"
you stilled at his question, and he was one to notice details. you pulled your hands away from the flowers going to face him "i actually don't volunteer. i'm a patient" you didn't like people asking questions, so you prepared a speech every time someone asked "i don't know what illness i have. doctors have been running tests for years and they still can't seem to understand. at random times i'll just get things like flareups, or my body will become absolutely exhausted out of nowhere. there’s other symptoms too, but i don’t want to bore you with the details. they won't let me go because it's like every time i walk out of the walls of this hospital something bad happens and i need to go right back to bed rest"
katsuki did something that a lot of people who asked about your sickness didn't know how to do. he listened. he was attentive and never let his eyes leave your face as you explained.
"i've been in and out of here since i was a kid. that's why i know the hospital and the workers so well. that nurse that brought you in the first day? she was just my nurse years ago, but now she's head of the pediatric floor"
it was all coming together now. the way you showed him the most secluded hallways. how you knew what times they would be doing building wide activities. and he was finally making sense of your words that you had told him on his first day.
"you have to know the hospital to really understand the kids. i know it sounds stupid, but this is their home, and some people can't understand that. most of these kids spend more time in the hospital than they do in their own house. so know this hospital. have enough respect for them to at least try and understand what they're going through"
you had felt so deeply about this because you had gone through the same exact thing, and you weren't going to have someone mistreat these kids.
“cool”
your eyebrows raised at his response.
“cool? i just told you about my lifelong sickness and you’re gonna say cool?”
“well whaddya want me to say? you want me to treat you like a fucking dying plant?”
“no”
“then i’m going to say cool and we can move the hell on”
“wow! is the number two hero dynamite really being a sweetheart?”
with one hand he gave you a playful shove “fuck off” he mumbled taking that arm and letting it rest behind you on the bench “and call me katsuki”
as the months pass, katsuki grows more comfortable with the children, and with you. he decided that he should come more frequently. once every month turned into every two weeks. then those two weeks turning into one. the two of you never really defined the relationship. you didn’t need to. all that you needed to know was he cared for you, and you him.
it only took one week to change everything.
katsuki walked onto the children’s floor heading into the room. all of the kids were doing their centers, but you were nowhere to be found. he saw the nurse though, helping one of the children with a computer game. when he walked over he ruffled the hair on top of the kids head “sup brat. mrs. harada, ‘s y/n here?”
mrs. harada’s expression grew soft. she placed a hand on the child’s shoulder letting them know she’d be right back. gently she grabbed katsuki’s forearm and walked him to a corner of the room.
“y/n relapsed. it was a two days after you came to volunteer. she was fine, about to head out from cleaning then just collapsed”
katsuki felt his blood running cold. how the hell could this happen? he just saw you. you were just fine.
why didn’t you call him?
mrs. harada placed a gentle hand on his shoulder “i’m sorry. i know you two are close, and i'm sure you don’t know how to feel. i can tell you her room number so you can see her. i’ll step in for both of you today” she smiled writing it on a sticky note and handed it to him. he gave her a nod then went to storm out “bakugo” she called out to get his attention “i understand you might be feeling betrayed, and you’re allowed to feel that way, but y/n is feeling a lot at the moment. she finally thought she was getting better and- and here we are. so please go easy on her”
katsuki thanked her, then headed out the door.
he walked through the hospital on a mission. he didn't stop to greet anyone or take autographs. the only time that he stopped was when he saw your room number.
the door was cracked open, but he couldn't see you from the angle where he was.
it was strange.
katsuki has trained for more hours than he could count. he had been facing villain's since he was at least fourteen years old. he had been through a whole damn war for crying out loud. and yet, as he stood there he felt a weight he had never felt before.
you glanced up seeing katsuki walk through the door. your heart started beating faster as soon as you saw him. even if you tried to put up a facade about it, your heart monitor gave everything away.
“you found me”
“ ‘s not like you gave me any other choice”
you watched as he stood in the doorway. hand stuffed in the pockets of his sweats. you had recommended that he didn't wear his hero suit since it would probably get uncomfortable after a while.
"katsuki you can come in-"
"why didn't you tell me as soon as it happened?"
"it's complicated"
"then fucking explain it to me" he stared at you his face unmoving.
"fine" you sat up wincing slightly at the pain shooting up your spine. katsuki almost faltered seeing your face contort from the pain "I don't know why I didn't tell you okay? The thought crossed my mind about a thousand times, but I just couldn't do it" a shaky sigh left your body and you tried to fight back the tears "there's just a lot going on.. and- and-"
the door clicked softly behind him, but you hadn't noticed. katsuki had made his way next to your bed and was already climbing in beside you. the bed let out a groan because of the added weight. he wrapped one arm around you and wiped your tears with the other. his thumb had a rough texture from all the explosions they've let out throughout the years. but they were gentle for you, and only you.
"you don't gotta say anymore. i've got you"
you leaned onto his shoulder letting the dam of your emotions break onto him. tears ran down your face, but you let them flow this time.
so you cried, and you cried, and you cried and cried and cried.
and katsuki let you.
it had been a while before you could compose yourself again. the room was filled with comfortable silence and the occasional snuffle from you.
"do you feel better?" he asked turned his head to face you.
"yeah.. 'm sorry you had to deal with that"
"don't fuckin' apologize for crying"
you chuckled at his words going to grab a tissue to wipe any excess. he tilted his head some analyzing a spot on your face closely.
"you got somethin' right.. there" he swiped a piece of tissue that had gotten stuck on your face.
you faced him getting a better look from up close. blond hair stuffed under a black baseball cap. bags under his eyes from all of his night shifts.
katsuki couldn't handle you looking at him like that. eyes still puffy from crying. your tongue running over your lips.
fuck it.
katsuki's hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck. he pulled you close as gently as he could. your foreheads touched before anything else.
"you don't want to kiss me. my face is disgusting" you whispered making him laugh, genuinely laugh.
"i've seen some disgusting shit and this isn't one of them"
you smiled before closing the distance between the two of you. there was a nice contrast to the kiss. between the roughness of his palm on your neck and his soft lips pressed against yours.
you could stay this way forever.
katsuki sneakily moved his tongue over your lips and pulled away. he made a face shaking his head "salty as shit"
"shut up!" you pushed him playfully making the both of you fall into laughter.
you and katsuki went on like this for months. constant visits, playful kisses, and when he was tired from patrol, he'd even let you read to him until he fell asleep.
but with the good, also came the bad.
your body had been getting weaker throughout the months. it came to the point where you couldn't get out of the bed unless you had help. katsuki had offered to take you on walks by putting you in the wheelchair, but you always refused. that is until you got the news.
"kats" you said causing him to lift his head from your shoulder "i wanna go on a walk"
he was confused at first. the sudden request to do something that you never wanted to was strange. though he didn't ask any questions as he went to get your things set up.
katsuki wrapped his arms around your torso lifting you up to be placed in the wheelchair. he had studied how the nurses did this thousands of times. you were embarrassed that he had to do this for you, but he'd do them a million times over it if meant walking with you.
there were no questions asked on where you wanted to go, you both knew.
katsuki pulled your wheelchair right next to the bench, but ended up putting you in his lap. you leaned against his shoulder looking at the cherry blossoms.
"when i die-"
"y/n don't start with that shit. you're not gonna die. you're gonna come back from this"
your one hand weakly played with the hair on the back of his head "we all die kats. it's okay if i talk about it"
"yeah, but you're talking about dying soon"
with a sad look in your eyes you watched his eyes follow the falling blossoms.
"can you at least promise me something then?"
"yeah"
"when i die, take care of the kids for me. you're so good with them and i don't trust just anybody handling it up there"
katsuki's eyes stayed glued to the trees in front of him.
"I can do that"
"and also-"
"idiot you said one promise!"
"hey! i'm dying i can make as many promises as i want" you smiled weakly at your own joke, but he didn't think it was too funny.
"promise to take care of yourself"
you saw his throat bob up and down at your words.
"you take care of so many other people and don't make time for yourself. learn how to rest kats. i can't have you dying either okay?" you placed a soft kiss on his cheek for good measure "you promise?"
katsuki rubbed one of his hands up and down your arm. a slow, shuddering breath leaving his mouth.
"i promise"
knowing that he would be okay you could finally rest, forever.
#honeipie#anime#bnha x reader#mha#writing#x reader#bnha bakugou#fanfics#katsuki#bakugou katsuki#anon ask#anonymous#angst#katsuki x y/n#katsuki bakugo x reader#katsuki bakugo mha
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Creator Highlight #6 - @thesistersarcheron
Welcome back to Feysand Creator Highlights!! We want to take a moment to recognize the amazing individuals in our fandom who kindly use up so much of their freetime and creative energy to share their work with us!
Today we'd like to highlight @thesistersarcheron. A multi-shipping phenom, her feysand fics are some of the best writing we've come across in any fandom anywhere. With one simple turn of phrase or one piece of imagery, @thesistersarcheron has us all laughing, crying, or unspeakably horny depending on what emotions she'd like to elicit from us
Besides her immense talent, @thesistersarcheron is also incredibly fun to interact with. Have you ever sent her message? Do it! You won't be sorry- any chance to experience her quick wit and easy sense of humor is time well spent.
Check out some of our favorites from her:
Bejeweled:
Every court has their own Great Rite with unique, ancient traditions. The Night Court’s priestesses have played coy with Rhysand since he inherited the throne last year about what imbuing the land with his power really means; all they tell him is that he is meant to spend the night in the Night Court’s mines dripping in ceremonial jewels while everyone else gets to attend the orgy without him.
He doesn’t expect to find Feyre, a faerie made of crystal who leads him on a chase deeper and deeper into the mines as the Rite’s magic overcomes him.
Poltergeist, Darling:
Feyre swallowed her horror and raised her tattooed hand. “The bargain was only for the rest of my life.”
Rhysand's grip on her tightened as he rested his chin on her shoulder. “Tamlin and I didn’t shuffle your corpse around for a week every month, if that’s what you’re thinking. I had to do some good old-fashioned graverobbing to get you, Feyre.”
Her spine stiffened. Prick!
--------
What would have happened if Feyre wasn’t resurrected Under the Mountain?
The Alchemy:
“Are you the High Lord?”
Rhys bit back a laugh and raised a brow. “If you have to ask, you don’t get to know.”
“My sister says the High Lord is an arrogant, preening prick who surrounds himself with bastards and sycophants.” Insult after insult rolled off the little girl’s tongue, stilted and rote in a way that spoke to memorization instead of understanding, and Rhys grinned.
Cauldron fucking fry him, she was charming.
—————
When the High Lord of the Night Court meets a neglected but promising young artist, he decides to take her under his wing and move her to Velaris to sponsor her education at the best art school the Night Court has to offer.
(Or, the fic in which Rhys decides he can raise his young mate better than the Archerons can and actually does it.)
Check out the rest of her masterlist HERE
Want to nominate someone? Fill out the form HERE
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k.b
summary: best friends to lovers
warnings: angst. fluff at the end.
The day I met Katsuki was the day I fell in love with him. We were six years old. I was at the park, playing with my friends, and I had fallen off the swing when he rushed over to me, asking me if I was okay and if anything hurt. Shocking, I know. But he was so attentive and so caring that day. I nearly forgot how caring he could be as we grew up.
When we reached elementary school, we were as close as ever. I only ever wanted to be with him. During recess, school projects, art. I would even beg my parents to let us have a playdate. Katsuki would always play my dog when we played house and he was so committed to the bit, he’d crawl on the floor and beg to be pet.
Middle school finally came along and he never left my side. Even as the fear of not going to the same high-school together grew. Katsuki got meaner our middle school years. Not to me, necessarily, but to others. He was so cruel and I had to force him to apologize to those he wronged.
And now highschool…My downfall. We got into UA together, but he grew distant from me. He made new friends, as did I, but I kept trying to include him in everything. He’d just blow me off for his new friends. His cooler friends. Even his prettier friends.
Eventually, we just stopped talking. It hurt, knowing he used to know me better than I knew myself and now he doesn’t know anything about me. We’re strangers again. I thought I meant more to him, but I guess not.
Currently, we’re in the common room and I’m sitting with my friends; Midoriya, Ochaco, Jirou, Tenya, and Todoroki. We decided to play truth or dare, but halfway through our game we got interrupted by our classmates.
“What are you guys doing?” Kirishima asks, taking a seat next to Midoriya. “Playing truth or dare. You guys want to play?” Ochaco offers, and I inwardly wince. Bakugo is standing there with his friends. “Sure, come on guys.” Kirishima agrees and his friends sit down with us. I make sure Mina sits next to me, and Todoroki sits on the other side of me so that Bakugo can’t sit anywhere near me.
I avoid his burning gaze and look over at Ochaco to start the game again. “Okay, Todoroki, truth or dare.” She asks the boy next to me. “Uh, truth.” He chooses.
“Is it true what everyone’s been saying about you and Y/N?” I narrow my eyes at her. What is she talking about? I can tell Todoroki doesn’t know either with the way that he’s staring at her, so she clarifies. “That you two have got something going on?”
I feel my cheeks heat at the question. It’s not that we do have something going on, it’s just this question is so embarrassing. Todoroki isn’t bad looking and obviously I’ve had a little crush on him before, but it would go nowhere because my love for Bakugo would never end. No matter what has happened between us. And Todoroki is aware of that. We’ve gotten closer these past few months and he’s become one of my good friends.
He shakes his head. “No. Y/N and I are just close friends.”
“And by close friends you mean…” Mina trails off, waiting for him to clarify. “Friends.” He shrugs.
The girls groan. “This is so upsetting! I surely thought something was going on between the two of you. I mean those late night talks, watching the stars together, pairing up together in class any chance you get?”
“We’re just friends, guys. Now, can we move on?” I spare Todoroki an apologetic glance and he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it.” He mutters.
“Okay, Y/N, truth or dare?” Mina asks. “Um,” I pause for a moments. “Dare.”
“Okay,” she smirks. “I dare you to play seven minutes in Heaven with Todoroki.”
I sigh, “can we do something else, please?” Sure, me and him are close, but they are doing this purposely. Little do they know, I’ve got my eyes set on someone else. Someone who doesn’t reciprocate those feelings for me.
“Come on, Mina, she’s not comfortable with that. Just do something else.” Kirishima steps in when he notices my reluctance. “Thank you.” I mouth to him and he nods.
“Okay, fiiine. I dare you to give Bakugo a hug because he’s looking a little tense over there.” And as soon as she says that, my body tenses and my eyes go over to him, who’s already staring at me.
I shake my head. “No.” Todoroki says for me. Then, I look back over to my friends, “I think it’s time I call it a night, actually.” Todoroki places a hand on my lower back and leans into whisper, “do you need me to walk you up, so he doesn’t bother you?”
“I’m okay. Thank you, Sho. I appreciate it deeply.” I stand up and mutter a goodnight to him and my friends, not sparing Bakugo a second glance.
I’m in the hallway that leads to my dorm when all of a sudden, I’m forced up against a wall. “What the hell?” I spat. And then I look up and realize who has me trapped against his body and the wall.
“What do you want?” I snap. He’s staring at me almost as if he’s hurt. “What is going on with you and half n’ half?” He mumbles, his crimson eyes searing into my soul. “None of your business. Now, let me go.” I try to push him away, but he’s so much stronger than me.
“You’re hiding something.” He says, accusingly. “I’m not hiding anything. Shoto and I are just friends. Now get out of the way. I’m tired.”
“Tired, my ass. Why are you lying?” He narrows his eyes, studying me. I clench my jaw, “Bakugo, I don’t have the patience for you right now. Get. Off.”
He pushes away from me all of a sudden as if I burned him. His eyes are boring into me and he looks almost— hurt? By what? I don’t know. Before I can walk away, he speaks again, “Bakugo?”
“That is your name, isn’t it?” I feign unawareness.
“What is going on with you, Y/N/N?” He asks, in a softer tone. I almost feel bad. And then I remember how quickly he replaced me.
How quickly he moved on from our friendship and got new ones. What sucks even more is I see him and Yao-Momo. I see the way they look at each other. It’s the way I used to wish he’d look at me.
“Don’t call me that. Please, don’t call me that.” I shut my eyes, trying to prevent the tears from escaping. Luckily, he can’t see me because my back is turned to him, but I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of even hearing my cries.
“What happened to us?” He finally asks the question I know he’s been itching to ask. “Don’t you dare,” I snap, finally facing him. “You happened. You did this. To me, to us. You ruined us.” I try to push him away with all of my force, but he doesn’t budge.
“What?” He breathes.
“You acted like you loved me and then as soon as we got to UA, you dropped me. You replaced me. You stoped talking to me. You didn’t want to come over anymore. You didn’t want to hang out anymore. We didn’t have our late night calls anymore. You didn’t sneak in anymore. You didn’t hug me anymore. You didn’t kiss me anymore. You didn’t love me anymore, Katsuki.”
He opens his mouth to reply, but before I can, I speak. “Don’t act like you didn’t. You got these better friends, cooler friends. Prettier girls were finally going up to you. I see you and her. I see you and Yao-Momo. I see the way you look at her. You look at her like you’d drop anything and everything for her, and she’s great, but I can’t take it anymore. I can’t take it anymore, knowing that it could’ve been us, but instead, I was fooled into thinking you felt something for me.”
“So, yeah. That’s what happened, Bakugo. I’m leaving now, and you’re going to go back to your cool friends and your pretty little girlfriend, and I’m going to be in my dorm, still in love with you.”
“She’s not my girlfriend.” He finally breaks the silence.
“Sorry?” I chuckle humorlessly. “Do not pull this BS with me, y’know I hate that crap.”
“I’m not. She’s not my girlfriend. She’s nothing to me. I look at her like that because everyday I wish it was you. I know I fucked up, alright? I just…I didn’t want to hold you back. I saw the woman you were becoming. I saw how you were flourishing and how your new friends treated you. I saw how much closer you got to fuckin’ half n’ half, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt, Y/N. I wanted you all to myself, but what the hell could I give you? I’m a mess. I’m angry all the time, I’m violent. I am not what you want. At least he’d treat you right.” He scoffs.
“And don’t you dare, for a second, think that I didn’t love you. Y’know I did. But I couldn’t hold you back anymore. You were growing and I stayed the same, angry boy I’ve always been.”
I choke on a sob. “You can’t decide what I want and what I don’t! All I ever wanted was you! Todoroki and I are friends. That’s it. There’s nothing more to it. And you really think you didn’t treat me right? You protected me from those mean girls in elementary. You stayed by my side 24/7. You took care of me when I couldn’t do it myself. You helped my parents with a bunch of shit. You’d buy me chocolate, knowing it was my favorite, when I was having a bad day. And you think you didn’t treat me right?” I take a step closer to him.
He’s not looking at me anymore. Instead, his eyes are zeroed in on the ground. “Katsuki, look at me.”
He shakes his head. “Please.” I say in a broken whisper. He swallows and finally looks down at me. “I love you. Please, don’t ever think for a second that I’ve loved someone else. You are my everything. You always have been. I want to grow with you.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He mumbles. I wrap my arms around his waist and inhale his caramel-y scent I haven’t smelled in forever. “I love you, Y/N.” He rests his forehead against mine. “I love you and I’ll do better this time. I won’t ever leave you.”
“Good.”
Bonus:)
It’s late and Katsuki and I are in the kitchen for a late night snack. He hates to admit it but he’s an amazing cook. “Baby,” I call for him. “Hm?” He hums, focused on his task. “C’mere.” I open up my arms.
He looks over at me in amusement. He wraps his arms around my waist and I wrap mine around his neck. “What’s this for, hm?” He smirks. “Shut up and let me love on you.”
He chuckles. “The pancakes are going to burn, sweetheart.”
“Let them.” I mutter, bringing him in for a small peck.
“As much as I love you, I don’t want the building to burn down. So, give me a sec.” He leaves a small peck on my neck and walks over to the stove.
I’m so in love with him.
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You will never be able to convince me that ACOSF was a good book. Let me explain.
1) It was a literal homicide for all the characters. Every. Single. One. I’m not sure if it’s because it’s from Nesta’s pov or what, but seriously, every single character basically became unlikeable? Rhys? Feyre (to an extent)? Cassian? Mor? Amren? Did Nesta really get much better?? Like no one was really likeable. Maybe Az being the only sane one. Elain showed some teeth which I liked but it still wasn’t the best.
2) Where was the plot? You’re telling me she only found troves and then killed one mortal/made queen? Before you argue, the fact we find out about Nesta’s literal powers in another series says a lot. Why didn’t we find out Nesta had silver flame power (WHICH IS THE NAME OF THE BOOK) in said book??????? Make it make sense. This book didn’t move the plot at all. Other than having the troves now. And killing the one crazy queen. The amount of times we were on the stairs was not needed. Nesta is a massive part of this universe, and yes, she can wield the troves. But everyone who is made can. So like what else could she have done? Something more im sure. I mean that’s why I think she was in HOFAS in the first place. To “conquer” the prison, get gwydion as her return of service, and show her powers. I get that the whole starborn thing needed to happen in HOFAS with Bryce but honestly Nesta needed more. And that’s another reason why people think she’s going to get another book, because what even happened in her book????
3) Nessian. Now here me out. Do we like smut? Yes. Do we like it when there’s actual romance involved? Yes. Did we truly get that? No. It’s been a while since I read this book because I just have no desire for a re-read. I’m sorry. But going from “my only regret in this life is that we did not have time. That I did not have time with you Nesta. I will find you in the next life” (ya I basically memorized it because I was kicking my feet at him saying that) to “I didn’t ask to be shackled to you either” after Nesta, a human turned fae, didn’t care about being called a mate? Like? Absolute homicide to Cassian’s character. Was the hike nice? No. Did he say nice things after she passed out? Yes. But like? I just think they deserved a better romance. And I just literally didn’t even know who I was reading when Cassian was involved. The guy that would crack jokes and just was loving? All of a sudden a mean person? To Nesta too? Like idk. It rubbed me the wrong way. They deserved better. The fact people actually want Eris and Nesta means it CLEARLY did not stick. Which means it was not convincing. No one says this about Feysand. They could have been FIREWORKS. But at times it genuinely didn’t feel like Cassian even liked her??? Where was the golden retriever energy? It was like the guy was on steroids the whole time and just blowing a fuse constantly. That was NOT the Cassian I remembered from ACOWAR. I mean idk maybe it was the fact the reluctant mate trope was just too difficult? The fact it started physically wasn’t my favourite either. Then it was so focused on that that it was like okay were are those romantic moments. “You’re not going to marry Eris” “no” “we will have no others” like that was romantic. Then the shackle thing literally happened the next day. Wtf.
4) Did I relate to Nesta’s issues and healing journey? A bit. But I just found it aggravating at times. I felt there was huge potential to dive into what it is to be the oldest sister. More into alot of things tbh. Her holding the line on Ramiel was a great moment, because she could finally protect people she cared about, but I wish that would have been implied more? Her journey seemed like a huge self insert and idk. It wasn’t as amazing as it could have been.
5) Nesta’s redemption? I don’t even like that word. I wanted people to begin to UNDERSTAND Nesta more. Not just be thankful she saved Feyre/Rhys/Nyx. Like a genuine understanding. Does Cassian? Ya I guess. Elain? It’s said she knew everything Nesta did and why. So yes she did. Az? Ya. He was literally the only one who wasn’t an asshole to her at any point lol. And I wouldn’t consider Elain and asshole to her either because she did just stand up for herself finally. Like imagine the comments you’d hear having Nesta as a sister (for real). But did anyone leave understanding Nesta, understanding why she was snarky and rude? No. Idk if that’s the point to create a divide or what. But seriously. I get Nesta to some degree now. Why did the characters not.
6) Nesta gaining friends was nice and I see why people cling to the Valkyrie. That was literally probably the best part of the book. And that’s saying something about the way the romantic pair was executed might I add. We weren’t obsessed with Feyre and Mor and Amren being friends. We were obsessed with Feysand. But the most you hear from ACOSF is about the Valkyrie.
7) Again. I never truly hated Nesta, but I didn’t necessarily love her after this either. I understood the character more, I saw her own dark thoughts, I saw how she felt, and I understood. But was she my favourite? No. I think her appearance in HOFAS, other than showing her powers (????), was to make Nesta more likeable. Because a lot of people still don’t like her. Like I said, I am PRO ARCHERON FOREVER, but I wanted more for Nesta. I wanted a lot for the girl.
8) The dreaded bonus chapter. I’ve said my opinion on this multiple times. Idk. It’s just hate for Elain that drives it tbh. It’s literally a copy and paste of the Nessian one from ACOMAF basically that if you put it in a plagiarism generator it would probably not pass. YET, it has literally desecrated the fandom. Completely. You literally can’t go anywhere without some ship war happening. And ya, I feed into it too being super pro Elriel because I love them. But damn. Imagine if this energy was put into, idk, theories of the plot? We would have figured out the Maas universe by now tbh. I wish it didn’t exist everyday. And to a lot of people it doesn’t, and I envy them. Life was simpler before the “did you read the bonus chapter” fiasco. And tbh I’m pretty sad that SJM hasn’t said a word about it. Or her publisher because it gets way out of line way too often. The actual love triangle has always been set up as Lucien/Elain/Az, and somehow we left the BC with a square??? Idek.
Overall, it just did not do Nesta or Cassian justice in my mind. It created way too many head canons, it made Cassian unlikeable in a lot of ways (why are you calling Mor beautiful?) and it just seriously destroyed a lot of characters.
I’m really hoping in Elain’s book we, idk, make amends finally? If I have to see another toe to toe battle between Nesta and Rhys I’m going to be sick. They are both right in ways, but I just can’t take it anymore. And this is what I mean about Nesta’s story not being one of UNDERSTANDING. Which is what she NEEDED. TO BE UNDERSTOOD. The rudeness, snarky comments, death glares etc just needed to be understood man.
#elain#elain x azriel#acotar series#pro nesta#pro archeron sisters#pro feysand#pro nessian#but they deserved better#pro elriel#sjm please put us out of our misery#give us the next book#make nessian great again#stop the ship wars
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Matt & Me🎀
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12
a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.
fem! reader x singer! matt
disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.
warnings - mentions of drug use
y/nn = your nickname for any confusion🩷
Chapter 11
Matt Sturniolo created his own world; only in his own environment did he feel secure, comfortable, and protected. A genuine camaraderie was created at Graceland. We lived as one big family, eating, talking, arguing, joking, playing, and traveling together.
Although I became friends with the guys in Matt’s retinue, he never let me, or anyone else, forget that I was his girl. I was never to get too close or become too familiar with any of the regulars.
One evening, after we came home from a movie, we said good night to everyone and went upstairs. Returning to the kitchen a few minutes later to get something to eat, I found Jerry Schilling, who’d just started working for Matt, making himself a snack. We started talking. A few minutes later, Matt appeared.
“What the hell are you two doing down here?” he shouted at us.
Intimidated, Jerry said, “Well, Matt, we were just talking. I was asking her how she felt, because she didn’t feel well this afternoon.”
“I came down to get something to eat,” I explained.
“y/nn, you don’t need to be roaming around here late at night,” he said, angrily ordering me upstairs.
Behind me, I could hear him lashing out at Jerry. “If you want to keep this job, son, you mind your own business. If there’s anyone who’s going to ask her how she feels, it’ll be me. You better mind your own goddamn business.”
I liked Jerry. He was warm, sincere, and very personable; just a couple of years older than I, he was one of the few people who I could relate to. But from that time on, it was a dodging match every time we’d run into each other. Now Jerry and I laugh about the “good old days” when we reminisce.
Most of the boys who worked for Matt had been around from the beginning and they knew all about him—his sense of humor, his sensitivity, and his temper. He stripped himself bare in front of them, and they accepted him for what he was.
Yet working for Matt was a twenty-four-hour-a-day job, and the boys were at his beck and call constantly. They played when he played and slept when he slept. It took a certain kind of personality to put up with his demands, whether they made sense or not.
“Come on, y/nn, let’s go to Los Angeles. I’ll show you where I film movies.,” he said one afternoon when we’d only been up for a few hours. He called downstairs and told Alan to alert everyone that he wanted to leave within the hour.
Alan said, “Okay, Boss. I think Richard and Gene are still sleeping. I’ll give ’em a call and tell ’em to come right over.”
“Their lazy asses are still sleeping?” Matt asked. “I’ve been up for two goddamn hours. They should have been over here by now. Alan, from now on, when I call down for my breakfast, call the boys and tell them I’m up and to be ready for anything, and that may include me not even coming downstairs. I just want them here.”
Demanding? Yes, but Matt could be just as generous. By today’s standards the boys’ salaries were not high—the average paycheck was $250 a week—but if the boys ever felt the pinch by the end of the month, they would go to Matt. They’d ask him if he could help them out with a down payment on a house or the first and last months’ payments on an apartment. Matt always came through for them, lending them the one thousand or five thousand or ten thousand dollars they asked for. He was rarely if ever paid back.
There also was no limit to the expensive gifts he gave them—television consoles for Christmas, bonus checks, Cadillac convertibles, Mercedes-Benzes. If he heard someone was sad or depressed, he loved to surprise them with a gift, usually a brand-new car. When he gave to one, he would usually end up giving to all.
James didn’t have much respect for the guys. He said Matt just gave and gave and gave, and they took and took and took. He’d say, “Son, we have to save.” Matt would answer, “It’s only money, Dad. I just have to go out and make more.”
James resented the regulars acting as if Graceland was their personal club. They’d go into the kitchen at any hour and order anything they wanted. Naturally, everyone ordered something different. The cooks worked night and day keeping them happy. James felt, “To hell with the boys. Their main concern should be Matt.”
What was really outrageous was that the regulars were ordering sirloin steaks or prime ribs while Matt usually ate hamburgers or peanut butter and banana sandwiches.
I wasn’t too popular around Graceland when I started reorganizing the kitchen. I set down a policy of having one menu per meal, and anyone who didn’t like what was on it could go to a local restaurant. This new edict resulted in much grumbling from the guys, but the cooks were relieved, and James sanctioned my decision, announcing, “It’s about time someone organized the meals. It was beginning to look like we were feeding half of Boston.”
Matt was the boss, the provider, and the power. Both the boys and I had to protect him from people who annoyed or irritated him and were no longer in his favor. Before coming down for the evening, he’d have me call downstairs to check who was there. I’d run down the guests, aware that certain names would strike him wrong.
“Shit,” he’d say, his mood destroyed. “What’s he want? Bring me some more bad news?” He’d stay up in his room rather than spend an evening with someone he didn’t like. There was one particular regular who had incurred his disfavor, and Matt told everyone he didn’t want him around. “Don’t let him through those goddamn gates!” Matt ordered. “All I have to do is look at his face and I get depressed.” Matt barred him from Graceland for a number of years, saying, “If he changes his morbid attitude, maybe I’ll change my mind.” His perceptions were correct, as these “friends” eventually betrayed him.
Matt and James kept some of their relatives at a distance because, as Matt explained to me, they’d shunned him when he was growing up, ridiculing him as a sissy, a mama’s boy. Mary Lou stood up for Matt and told his tormentors to go their own way. Angrily, she had said, “Don’t bother us with these accusations.”
Then fame and fortune hit, and suddenly all the kinfolk came around, begging for jobs or crying that they needed help. Sometimes Matt got upset, charging, “The only time they visit is with their hand out. It’d be nice if they’d come around just to see how I was doing. But hell no, it’s always, ‘Ah, Matt, I could use a little extra cash. Could you help me out?’ Hell, I’ll bet when I’m dead and gone, they’ll still be taking advantage.” But Matt ended up slipping each of them a hundred dollars or more every time they came around. If it had been up to James, he would have gotten rid of every one of them. But Matt kept saying, “No, Dad, they don’t have any place to go. They couldn’t work anywhere. Keep them here.”
From the beginning of his success, Matt put many family members on salary, and all had titles. James was his business manager; Patsy, his personal secretary; uncles Vester Sturniolo and Johnny and Travis Smith, and cousin Harold Lloyd, gate guards; cousins Billy, Bobby, and Gene, personal aides; and then there was Tracy Smith, who seemed to go from brother to brother for support. Matt took care of everyone.
I remember one night at Graceland when Matt came back to the kitchen and saw Tracy pacing the floor. “Hey, Tracy,” he said, “How ya doing, man?” Tracy, his hands in his pockets, could hardly look Matt in the eye. “I don’t know, Matt,” he sighed. “What do ya mean, you don’t know? Everyone knows how they’re doin’, man.”
Tracy, shifting back and forth, mumbled, “I got my nerves in the dirt, Matt.” Matt staggered back, laughing. “Nerves in the dirt! Hell, I never heard it expressed like that before. You need some money, Tracy?”
Again, Tracy just shifted back and forth, as Matt called Nate over and told him to give Tracy a bill. A big smile covered Tracy’s lined face as he happily took his hundred dollars and walked out the door.
Matt knew that having his nerves in the dirt was Tracy’s way of saying he was down and out—and worried sick about it. He never forgot that phrase. “Poor ol’ Matt,” he’d say. “I’ll never forget the look on his face that night, poor ol’ guy.”
That was Matt—always caring, always sensitive to everyone’s needs, even while presenting a macho image to his fans and friends.
Anything I could think of doing for him, I did. I made sure Graceland was always warm and inviting, with the lights turned low, as he preferred them, the temperature in his bedroom set to his exact desire (freezing), and the kitchen filled with the aroma of his favorite meals.
Every night before dinner was served, I came downstairs first, checked with the maids to see that his food was just the way he liked it—his mashed potatoes creamily whipped, plenty of cornbread, and his meat burnt to perfection. I always had candles on the dining room table to create a romantic atmosphere despite the fact that we always ate with several of the regulars.
I loved babying Matt. He had a little-boy quality that could bring out the mother instinct in any woman, a beguiling way of seeming utterly dependent. It was this aspect of his charm that made me want to hold him, shower him with affection, protect him, fight for him, and yes, even die for him. I went to extremes in taking care of him, from cutting his steak at dinner to making sure his water glass was always filled. I enjoyed pampering and spoiling him and found myself jealous of others vying for his attention and approval.
But I didn’t always receive his approval. If something went wrong with his dinner, Matt blew up. “Why isn’t this steak done? Why didn’t you make sure the maids cooked it right? If you’d have done your job, it wouldn’t have turned out like this.” Obviously something else was wrong, and I didn’t recognize it at the time. Because of the continuous pressures and problems in Matt’s life, all magnified by taking prescribed drugs, little things would set him off. I took responsibility for everything in his life and always took it all too personally.
I wanted to be with Matt as much as I could, but while going to the movies or the fairgrounds every night might have been a wonderful way for him to relax, it posed an enormous problem for me. Often I wouldn’t get home until 5 or 6 a.m., and I’d have to be at school two hours later. Sometimes I never went to sleep. When I did, I could barely make it out of bed. I would lie there trying to drum up the strength to face the day, Matt making it even harder by suggesting that I sleep in and cut classes. It would have been so easy to go along with his suggestion, but hanging over me was the agreement I’d made with my parents. They trusted me and even though I was letting them down, I still had to keep up the facade.
Day after day I drove to school, attended classes till noon, then returned to Graceland to slip back into bed and cuddle next to Matt, who was still sound asleep. When he awoke at 3 or 4 p.m., I might never have left his side for all he knew. I was there to give him his usual order of orange juice, a Spanish omelet, home-fried potatoes, a mere two pounds of bacon, and—first and foremost—his black coffee.
Everyone who knew Matt was aware that it took him at least two to three hours to wake up fully. Asking him to make a decision, even a simple one such as what movie he wanted to see that night, was ill-advised. He was just too groggy and irritable from the sleeping pills, which were causing him to sleep as many as fourteen hours a day. It seemed only natural for him to take some Dexedrine to wake up.
I was always concerned about his intake of sleeping pills. His horror of insomnia, compounded with a family history of compulsive worrying, caused him to down three or four Placidyls, Seconals, Quaaludes, or Tuinals almost every night—and often it was a combination of all four. When I expressed my concern, he just picked up the medical dictionary, always near at hand on his night table.
“In here is the explanation for every type of pill on the market, their ingredients, side effects, cures, everything about them,” he assured me. “There isn’t anything I can’t find out.”
It was true. He was always reading up on pills, always checking to see what was on the market, and which ones had received FDA approval. He referred to them by their medical names and knew all their ingredients. Like everyone else around him, I was impressed with his knowledge and certain that he was an expert. One would think he had a degree in pharmacology. He always assured me that he didn’t need pills, that he could never become dependent on them. This difference in opinion resulted in many serious confrontations; I always compromised my integrity and ended up taking his viewpoint.
I began taking sleeping pills and diet pills too. Two Placidyls for him and one for me. A Dexedrine for him and one for me. Eventually Matt’s consumption of pills seemed as normal to me as watching him eat a pound of bacon with his Spanish omelet. I routinely took “helpers” in order to get to sleep after wild rides at the fairgrounds or early-morning jam sessions. And I routinely took more “helpers” when I woke up in order to maintain the fast pace and, more importantly, to study for my final exams.
During the last month before finals, I started popping more dexies than before. They seemed to give me the energy I needed to get through classes and homework. Every free moment was devoted to cramming a whole semester’s work into a few weeks. But my concentration was scattered; the strain of life at Graceland had finally caught up with me.
I had already been warned by Sister Adrian that in order for me to graduate, I had to pass all my subjects. During a talk in her office, I wanted desperately to confide in her and explained how hard it was to maintain my grade level with the late hours I kept: But how could I tell that to a nun?
I had no real goals after graduation, but I did sometimes dream of becoming a dancer or possibly enrolling in an art academy. Now I realize that I was deeply influenced by Matt’s casual attitude toward continued schooling. He figured I didn’t need it and I agreed. Just being with him most of the time would provide an education—not to mention experience—that no school could give me. He wanted me to be his totally, free to go to him in an instant if he needed me.
That sounded great to me. I’d never planned on a future without Matt. Therefore, while my classmates were deciding which colleges to apply to, I was deciding which gun to wear with what sequined dress. I was tempted to say to Sister Adrian, “Oh, by the way, Sister, does gunmetal gray go with royal blue sequins?” With that attitude it was no surprise that I was still woefully unprepared for my most hated subject, algebra, the week before finals.
On the day of the test, I sat in the crowded classroom, hyper from downing a dexy, trying to work out the problems. Despite my effort, I knew there was no way I was going to pass. I started to panic. I had to graduate. I had an obligation to Matt and to my parents, who I knew would yank me out of Graceland the minute I failed this test. I glanced at the girl next to me—and at her completed test paper. It’s my last resort, I thought. I’m going for it. I was not willing to face the consequences of being sent home for failing this test.
Her name was Janet and she was a straight A student. I tapped her on the shoulder and flashed my brightest smile, whispering, “Are you a Matt fan?” Taken aback by my question, Janet nodded yes. “How would you like to come to one of his parties?” I asked.
“Are you kidding?” she replied. “I’d love to.”
“Well, I know a way that it can be arranged.”
I eyed her test paper and explained. Janet instantly grasped my dilemma and, without a word, slid her paper to the edge of her desk. Now I had a full view of her answers. I spent the rest of the hour furiously copying them down and I not only passed, but I got an A on that test.
I hadn’t expected Matt to make much of my graduation. His attitude was, “A diploma’s not that important; life’s experiences are.” But to my surprise, he really looked forward to it and arranged to have a big party for our friends after the ceremony. There he presented a beautiful red Corvair, my first car.
On the big night he was like a proud parent. Nervous about what he should wear to the ceremony, he finally settled on a dark blue suit, and I put on my navy blue gown. I couldn’t possibly keep the cap on over that mass of teased hair.
Matt had a limo waiting for us out front. But there was one problem: I did not want him to come to the actual ceremony. It would attract a lot of attention, and all eyes would be focused on him instead of the graduating seniors.
Finally I worked up enough courage to ask him to wait outside, and explained why. Smiling his funny little grin, the one that came to his lips when he was hurt or upset, he agreed without hesitation. “I hadn’t thought about that,” he said. “I won’t come in. I’ll just be outside in the car waiting for you. That way I’ll kinda be there.”
And that was what he did. I accepted my diploma with mixed emotions. I would have loved for him to have been watching, but only I knew what a physical, emotional, and mental strain it had been to get that piece of paper. To me, it represented freedom, freedom to stay out until dawn if I wanted and sleep all day if I wanted. It represented freedom from my school uniform and from the teasing the entourage subjected me to every time they caught me in it trying to sneak past them at Graceland. I was a big girl playing in the big leagues.
As soon as I could get away, I ran outside. In front of the church, Matt and the boys were standing by the long black limo, looking like the Chicago Mafia in their dark glasses and suits, each concealing a.38. Around them a group of nuns were clamoring for Matt’s autograph.
Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd. This material may be protected by copyright.
a/n - so cute🎀
#matt stuniolo fanfic#matthew sturn#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#sturniolo edit#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo imagine#sturniolo smut#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo x reader#nick sturniolo#Spotify
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I'd like to tell you a story...
... about my first Tav, Shayla Moonsong.
She is a Zariel tiefling, and a College of Lore Bard, and while she wasn't my first Tav, she was the first one to finish the game. I had romanced Lae'zel, Shadowheart, and Astarion in early access, so I focused on her because I was anxious to try a new romance, Halsin. However, because she was created just after full release, her save file was horrifically bugged. I got the cut scenes for Halsin that allowed me to progress his companion quest and cure Moonhaven of the shadow curse, but after that I could get no further dialogue from him at all, even in camp. I was playing with a party limit mod by the time he joined my party, so I never needed to worry about dismissing him from my party, but I did occasionally have difficulty with him following the party. I had to run around controlling him a lot. The only scene I ever got with him once he joined me was specifically his sex scene, after I did the love test at the circus in Act 3. I knew literally nothing about him, lol, so I had to google the answers.
But that was the thing. I knew… nothing about this guy. He was just some hot elf my bard boned, I had zero investment in him other than that. And it became a head canon for me about her - she was a typical bard, slutting her way to the Gate. She slept with the Emperor, she had a foursome with the drow twins and Halsin, and she absolutely played Haarlep's game to get his pass code. And while I'd wished, at the time, I could have had the additional enrichment of a poignant, heartfelt romance, I did enjoy exploring a character that was more free with her sexuality. As a result, though, I'd ended up "saving myself" for Halsin, because I knew his romance would (or in my case should but didn't) open up very late in the game. And I'd shot down all of the other companions fairly quickly.
Including Gale.
Especially Gale.
He was still bugged at the time, and his… overly amorous nature, lol, was widely known to anyone who'd spent more than ten minutes on the internet. So I ignored a lot of opportunities to know him better. And at the time, he was honestly my least favorite character. Particularly because I truly didn't enjoy him in early access. I genuinely found him offputting and way too over the top, and subsequently much of his narrative flew straight over my head.
Like a Boeing 777.
But let's be honest. Because of the nature of his story, and the way he seems to compartmentalize his trauma as devotion, and because of the mask of charm and confidence he wears to convince your character of his usefulness, and the way he tempers his emotions so he doesn't upset the orb, all of these things… the complexity of his narrative is super duper subtle. Or at least to me it was. I was the complete dumb dumb that didn't pick it up from context like we were supposed to.
Until I played my bard, Shayla. The first one to get through Act 3.
I had saved the culmination of Gale's quest in Sorcerous Sundries til nearly the end. Just before all the stuff with the foundry and Gortash. At the time, he was still a checklist item, a box to mark off on my road to the final boss.
So I went into it feeling like this man was probably pretty fed up with me, lol. And then he read the Annals of Karsus and I realized right then just how much I'd taken this character for granted. Because everything about him, his entire personality, shifted right there, and he became… someone else. And everyone else in my party noticed it too. The choice of responses I was given was crafted in a way that made me feel like the writers very much wanted me to notice a change had taken place within Gale. And then I picked a response that was honestly a touch unkind. I don't remember what I said to him, but…
He yelled at me.
"She left me to die!" he said. I remember that part.
And when the camera panned back to me and the party, we were all wide eyed and reared away from him in shock and disbelief that this charming, confident, gregarious, and benign creature was suddenly so… dark. And it was at that moment that a light switch was flipped. The missing puzzle piece was found and snapped into place. Suddenly I understood everything I'd missed up to that point, and it was more than just an "ah hah!" moment. It was an, "Oh my god…" moment. He hadn't become someone else.
We were seeing who he truly was for the first time.
His mask had slipped. Cracked beneath strain. He'd been pushed to a breaking point.
Naturally, because he's Gale, he recovered quickly. But it was too late. I saw him. And then two things happened. I fell in love with him. Instantly. But then I also realized the game was almost over. His romance opportunity had come and gone, there wouldn't be a "confess your love at the last minute" option. And of course his fate at the end of the game was not so kind to my bard either.
I've had big feelings about it ever since.
And then the Hugs mod came out, which only served to further poke my great big ouchy feelings.
I've lived in head canon land for a while now when it comes to Shayla Moonsong. In my head canon, he did end up taking her advice, he did pick an outcome that didn't involve using the Crown of Karsus or the Karsite Orb, and in no way did he become a pulverized cloud of stardust. He ended the game living peacefully in Waterdeep, giving Tara belly rubs and ushering in the next generation of wizards without grooming them for a lifetime of suffering.
But that leaves Shayla herself and her big, unresolved feelings. Feelings that were never processed or acknowledged, as the time was never right between her relationship status with Halsin and the fate of the world resting on her shoulders.
So, what is a bard to do when she falls in love, but it's too late?
Nothing small, that's for sure. And it will probably involve singing.
(I'm planning on maybe two to three chapters for this story, in which she very much makes things worse before they get better, lol. She's still learning. But it's definitely gonna end with some light cunnilingus and good, heavy railing either on a kitchen counter or against a bookshelf. I haven't decided yet. I do hope, if you do decide to read this humble beginning, that you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. And also please excuse my ill attempts at self-effacing meta humor.)
Pairing: Gale / named fem!Tav bard
Rating: Smut is imminent (once we get through the foreplay… er, mutual pining)
Word count: 4790
Read the story HERE or under the cut
Chapter One: The Wizard, The Real One
"Is there a loan shark in the audience or something?" Jory asked.
"Hmm?" Nelsyn replied, but she didn't look up from her lines. He supposed that was fair. She was busy letting Sara fix the adhesive on the curly teal wig that sat between her horns, and Jory knew as well as anyone on cast that nothing good came from troubling the crew. He let his heavy bear pelt slip from his shoulders as he sat down in the empty chair next to her.
"She's been there all night," he told his friend as he nodded toward the entryway to stage right. "Boss lady. We've been touring this show for months. We could all do it in our sleep, she knows that. Never seen her hover like this."
And there was no reason for it. "The Fall of the Absolute" was a roaring success. The production was Shayla Moonsong's crowning achievement, a media darling, and the current obsession of a whole continent. She'd catalogued volumes of stellar, five-star reviews thus far, and was selling out box offices everywhere she went. The show was the hottest new thing since "Volo's Guide to Sex in the Elemental Planes."
But it wasn't her biggest accomplishment. It wasn't what she was truly known for.
She was the Hero of Baldur's Gate.
She faced the illithid Netherbrain herself, and won.
And the tale they were telling in front of all those people was her story.
Heavens knew the winsome bard had faced far greater perils than watching a chapter of her life play out on a stage.
And yet there she stood, on this most unremarkable of nights, leaning just inside the door frame where she could observe without obstructing. Where she could scan the audience like a scrying eye, searching for… something. Normally she'd be flitting about like a cloud of gnats directing the cast and crew, answering questions, giving orders, helping the caterer, filling water jugs, finding toilet paper, running errands, meeting VIPs. Trying not to go crazy. But not tonight. Tonight she stood very still, chewing her thumbnail and unconsciously flicking the tip of her tail over and over, hard to the left.
And Jory remembered what Nelsyn had said about what it meant when tieflings flicked their tail to the left.
She was clearly nervous about something.
"Well, we're about to do the big emotional number," Nelsyn finally told him, closing the cover of her script while Sara gave her wig a good yank to test the glue. "It's the one all the teenage girls are sobbing over their sketch pads for right now."
She stopped to take a sip of water when Sara bent to pick up her cosmetics case. The girl made a gesture to Jory to give up his seat, and he tripped over his own feet unfolding himself to stand up. Once again he was reminded why he was cast as the big druid, Halsin. Shayla had told him once that while he wasn't quite as tall as the real thing… he was close. He wondered how easily the boss lady's former lover would have fit into that chair.
"This is our first time in Waterdeep," Nelsyn continued, trying her best not to move her lips while Sara applied a fresh coat of pink stain. "She probably just wants to see how it gets received. She doesn't really get to just sit out there and watch, you know?"
"Yeah."
"Could be it," Sara told them both, bunching her eyebrows and concentrating on keeping her hand steady. "Part of it, anyway. That is her favorite character out there, singing his heart out about the bomb in his chest."
"Her favorite character? The wizard?"
"Someone else got a bomb?"
"Please. Everyone knows I'm her favorite character."
"Listen," she replied as she wiped the applicator clean with a kerchief, "you're a good looking kid, and no one hates watching you take your clothes off out there." Nelsyn snorted, but they both ignored her. "A healthy percentage of ticket sales is probably yours, no one's arguing that. But that's not enough for you to game the win."
"Game the w- what?" Jory laughed, his oiled obliques glistening as he pulled the bear pelt back over his shoulders. "Look, I'm not trying to make it a competition or anything, okay? You brought it up. But I literally play an archdruid who carves ducks, sings to squirrels, and adopts orphans. Plus? He looks like this." He swept his hands grandly over his abdomen, flexing muscles most people had only seen in paintings or medical textbooks. "And did I mention he's also her boyfriend?"
"Her ex-boyfriend," Sara corrected him, pointing at Nelsyn as she spoke. "Have you even listened to the song she's getting ready to sing? You know. The one about love? And sacrifice?" She shifted her weight as an intern sidled past her to tidy the table, refill their drinks, and bag up the trash. "And don't tell me you haven't looked at Erik with both of your eyeballs. We've all seen him. The man has eyelashes as long as your forearm. And the biggest, saddest, wettest brown eyes on the face of this planet. He's like a baby cow, okay? I'm just saying." She stood to let the intern past her again, and bent to drag her cosmetics case out of the way. "This is the man she cast to play the lead in the big romantic climax of the whole show. When the main character realizes she's in love and it's too late. She's managed to capture," she pinched her fingers in front of her face, "the very essence of what it means to have sad children mooning over this show for years to come, okay? The baby cow is a cash cow. And he is clearly her favorite character."
"I think the vampire is her favorite character," the intern said, unprompted, as she reached to help Nelsyn out of her seat. "He's everyone's favorite character."
"You're all wrong," Nelsyn told them as she sloughed her way out of her robe with great theatrical flair. The intern caught it before it hit the floor, just as she'd done so many times before. Nelsyn stood with her hands on her hips and a gallant curve to her tail, casting her eyes toward the rafters and beaming a heavily pink-stained smile, resplendent in her artificially distressed leather armor blotted with thick fake blood.
"I'm her favorite character," she said, glowing with certainty. "And it should be obvious. I'm her! Now, stand back and watch while I go make a bunch of little girls cry!" And with that, she grinned devilishly and pranced toward the stage.
But once she was gone, the intern leaned forward and beckoned. Jory found himself instinctually drawn to listen.
"Well, you wanna know what I heard?" she whispered, and her eyes landed on Shayla for only just a moment. Jory nodded out of reflex. "I heard a rumor that someone in the orchestra pit overheard the boss lady telling someone in the box office that there was going to be a special guest tonight."
"What. Like, family?" Jory asked. "I thought she was an orphan."
"Could be anyone," Sara answered him from where she stood, combing through a wig hanging on the wall. "Philanthropist, politician. Who knows.
"Or," the intern hissed, leaning in even closer, "it could be one of them."
"One of who?"
"You know. Them. Thems what was with her, when all this went down."
"Like… like one of the actual…?"
"Don't you two have anything better to do than -"
"Wait. We're in Waterdeep," Jory breathed. He snatched up Nelsyn's script and started thumbing through it, fanning the pages and blowing a strand of hair across his nose. "Isn't… isn't the wizard…?"
Sara dropped her comb to her side and opened her mouth, but stopped and blinked at him instead. A thoughtful look crept across her face. She nodded her head in defeat.
"The wizard's from Waterdeep."
Then, as one, they all turned to look at Shayla where she stood at stage right, still as a statue.
And the music began to swell. The strings stirred the air with sounds as soft and sweet as sunset. The woodwinds sang a shrill crescendo as Erik began to make his famous climb.
And Nelsyn began to sing her famous song.
Before she disappeared beyond the narrow view from stage right, Jory watched her as she raised her arm to reach for him.
The wizard.
And her voice rang out so high and so clear, so heavy with every loss that Shayla Moonsong had ever suffered, with every plea that ever twisted her heart in bitter knots. With every word that ever fell from the mighty pen of their beloved playwright.
Who stood now with her hand at her throat. It bobbed once when she swallowed. Her lips parted and she drew a breath, and a hush fell over the crowd. She settled in to listen with the rest of them.
And her tail flicked once more to the left.
I know I've been unkind to you
And I've pushed you way too far
And I know in ignorance I forced you
To reveal the man you are
And I know I've left you with nothing to lose
And even less to gain
And though I know you owe me nothing
Please don't give in to pain
Erik's silhouette was emblazoned across the long, velvet curtain hanging behind the hideously decorated staircase he was climbing. His movements were eery and real, despite their paltry attempts to pantomime a grisly memory that none of them had ever lived. Each step was measured and dreamlike and perfect, like a person caught in a trance or a dead man called home to his rest by a spectral light.
Or in this case, a massive papier mache facsimile of a netherbrain hung from a scaffold over the stage.
Please,
Please don't do this
I'm begging you not to go
Please,
Please don't do this
There's something you need to know
What can I do to make you wait
Convince a goddess to change your fate
Please tell me that it's not too late
There's something I didn't say…
"It can't be him, though. Can it?" Jory asked. "Didn't he, like," he pointed a finger toward the stage, "explode?"
"Oh, no. It's just a story, mate," came a voice from behind them. It was Velanthyr, the elf who played Astarion. They rounded the table and perched themself on the corner, placing their white wig beside them as they took a bite from an apple. "She's embellished tons of stuff. For emotional impact. They all do it."
I should have loved you since I met you
I should have loved you all along
"That bard she played? In the first act?"
"Yeah?"
"She ain't really dead either."
"Seriously?"
I should have told you that I love you
Instead of hiding behind a song
"My cousin met her. Said he saw her play someplace they had dinner."
"No shit?"
"It's true. She teaches music in Baldur's Gate."
Is there nothing left that I can do
But fall to my knees and pray
"So what's with her, anyway?" Velanthyr asked, pointing their apple at Shayla while they wiped the juice from their lips with their other hand.
The tip of her tail flicked again, and slowly she wrapped her arms around her middle.
To any god or any devil
Who'd keep you from walking away
"She's been acting weird all night," they said.
"S'what we were just talking about."
Please,
Please don't do this!
Turn around! This isn't right!
"We think the wizard might be out there," the intern told them. "The real one."
"Oh no," the elf laughed.
Please,
Please don't do this!
Please, I'm begging you to fight!
"Hope he has a sense of humor. It's about to get weird!"
"Weird?!" Sara growled at them, flinging her comb about.
Forget your fickle god's desire
I'd cross the oceans, I'd walk through fire
I'd conquer all the Hells entire
For you
And yes, I know you're tired
"The man is getting ready to watch himself die! And I'm sure I don't need to remind you his death is self-inflicted! If there's a chance that any of this is real? That the trauma this man survived is on display? You all need to show a little respect." She shook her head and turned back to her wig. "Shut up and let her listen."
Sara's words may have stung him, but Jory knew she was right. So he obeyed her, and he listened. And for the first time he truly heard the fragile warble of desperate heartache that Nelsyn had worked so hard to craft through her voice.
Come back to me and take your rest
Indulge one overdue caress
I'll steal the sorrow from your chest
And confess, I will confess
But he didn't just uncover a new appreciation for his friend and her level of skill. There was more to it than that. There was a depth to this scene that he'd been missing before now.
There was a meaning. One that wasn't meant for the whole world.
It was only meant for one man.
He could sense it in the vibrant tension bound between Shayla Moonsong's shoulder blades.
And then Nelsyn grew quiet. Everything got quiet. The music made a subtle shift to something low and dulcet, but tense, like a string pulled too tight without snapping. Jory found his feet had led him to stand at Shayla's shoulder. He could hear her breathing through her teeth and he felt compelled to reach out and take her hand.
She took hold of it like a lifeline.
You're everything to me and more
You're all that I've been fighting for
You're more than just an end to war…
Nelsyn paused after that last note. It was important to the narrative, it was the whole point behind the wizard's story. But her longing would go deliciously unrequited, and would inspire a veritable deluge of creativity from fandom communities everywhere.
Shayla squeezed Jory's hand, squeezed her eyelids firmly shut. She held her breath and Jory could see Erik had reached the top of the rise. There he stood, a straight, unyielding figure gazing off into the liminal distance, resolute.
And he would never turn around.
It wouldn't be long. Any moment.
Nelsyn sang her penultimate line.
And I would give my life for yours…
She held the word so long it nearly sank into Jory's skin. It sent a wave goosebumps to crest over every inch of his body. The orchestra wove their way through their final, sweeping refrain, and the conductor brought them to a close on a plaintive harmony between a flute and an oboe.
And then the light collapsed.
It shrank to a small, pale circle that drew its stark and shining focus on a razor-slim shadow cast against the curtain.
In the shape of a dagger.
Erik lifted it high and turned its point toward his heart.
"Gods preserve me," Shayla mumbled to herself. It was the only sound Jory could hear aside from the sniffs and sniffles of the audience. Collectively they teetered at the edges of their seats, enthralled by a beautiful, mournful man who was counting the final seconds of his life with undaunted stoicism and courage.
Nelsyn could've whispered her final line if she wanted to, but instead it burst from her as a scream.
"Don't do this!!!"
Jory felt it thrum like a shockwave within his own chest, and beside him Shayla flinched. She squeezed his hand even harder.
"Just tell me when it's over," she said to him. And then suddenly there was a flurry of activity.
He took a step back and yanked her away from the door when a small flock of technicians flew in to crowd the space they left behind.
Up high, far in the corner, Jory saw the dagger move against the curtain. And all of the good people of Waterdeep gasped when they watched the blade meet its mark.
"Fire in the hole," a technician murmured beside him, and the spotlight on the curtain went black.
Then a pair of spells were cast that bathed the audience in a blinding aurora. It blazed with ribbons of vivid blues and purples and greens, speckled with myriad glittering white stars.
And an arrow of roaring thunder was launched far overhead. It detonated with such a resounding boom that it shook everything, even the floor boards beneath Jory's feet. It rattled seats and drinking vessels, it toppled music stands, and it made Erik's staircase sway alarmingly as it was wheeled backstage, with him still riding precariously at its top.
Shayla Moonsong's face fell into her hands.
"Go on," Erik sang as he danced his way down the stairs. "Tell me how devastating I was. Don't hold back. Tell me everything."
"You were spectacular, my love!" Velanthyr assured him as they ran to greet him, cradling his face in their hands and kissing him sweetly. "You always are."
"Were they weeping?" he asked his lover, nuzzling their face with his own. "The lights are so bright, I can never see."
"They were drowning in their tears, darling. Drowning."
"Is everything alright?" Sara asked as she approached on her tiptoes, reaching for Shayla's arm. Velanthyr's wig drooped at her side, forgotten. "What can I do?"
"I can't even look," Shayla whimpered through the palms that smothered her face.
"Oh honey," Sara cooed as she pulled the woman closer. And in a blessed act of mercy, she asked the question that no one wanted to ask, but someone needed to. Long before now, before this critical point had been breached.
"He's out there, isn't he?"
"I think I've made a huge mistake." Shayla slid her fingertips down to press against her lips, unable to form any other words. She could only shake her head, her eyes as wide as dinner plates.
"Do you want us to look? See if we can see him?"
"I don't think I wanna know."
"Where is he seated?"
"E6."
"Oh." Sara briefly grimaced at Jory, but didn't stop rubbing circles across Shayla's back. "Front and center. Of course."
"Yep." The way her lips popped at the end of the word only served to emphasize how mortified she was. "Wouldn't want him to miss anything."
"Well, of course not. He's your guest," Sara replied, jerking her chin in a way that suggested Jory had been volunteered for reconnaissance.
"Oh gods!" Shayla raked her claws past her horns to twist them into her hair. "I even told him he could invite his mother!"
"Well that's a perfectly reasonable thing to do, one would think."
Jory understood his assignment. He sauntered away but paused at the door frame. The show wasn't over yet. When the technicians finished collecting their gear, they scrambled off to safely stow their rockets and retrieve the set pieces for the final scenes. They were dragging the staircase away from the main thoroughfare when Corinne, the woman who played the narrator, whipped past them.
"Coming through," she chimed, racing out to center stage, taking her place before the curtains could rise once more. Her final soliloquy would lead them into the epilogue, and would give Jory the opportunity he needed to cast his eyes past the orchestra pit and across the section of seats that lie beyond.
Front and center.
He would only have a minute or two. Sara would need to replace Velanthyr's wig. Erik needed a drink and Nelsyn's makeup needed a touch up. Very soon they would be on stage, the lights burning holes through their retinas, leaving them blinded and oblivious to all but each other and the saga they would spin to its end. He reached up to buckle the clasp on the bear pelt that draped across his shoulders.
For now, it was the narrator's turn. But he was ready. And then the curtains rose.
He smashed his face against the door frame like a cat burglar. A shaft of light swung down upon the stage illuminating Corinne at its center, and Jory peered out into the darkness it left in its wake. He squinted until he found the end of the section behind the orchestra pit, and he started counting backwards from there.
But seat E6 was empty.
Certain he'd made a mistake, he counted back again to double check, to be extra sure.
But he was right the first time.
"It's empty," he muttered out of the corner of his mouth.
"What?" Shayla cried as she spun to face him.
"Yeah," he told her. "I counted twice to make sure I had the right seat, but no one's in it."
"Oh gods." She began to pace, wringing her hands. "What about the one next to it?"
"Which side?"
"Just tell me if you see an older woman."
"Umm, okay." At first he wasn't certain. There was a child on the right side, but on the left was a person who'd stood up, and was bent with their back toward him, like they were reaching for something. "I think… maybe. Yeah. I think so. It looks like she's getting up. She's picking up a bag or something. Is that a cat?"
"Tara?"
"Who brings a cat to a -"
"She's not a cat. She's a tressym."
"What the hell is a tress- holy shit, it's got wings! It just flew over - oh! Oh, I think I see him!"
"Where!"
The tressym sailed through the air to float beside a tall, slender man who was moving quickly up the aisle toward the exit. He wasn't running, out of proper respect for social decorum, but he had the energy of a man who wished he was. His shoulders were hitched up near his ears and he was stifling his mouth with the back of one hand.
And a shiver ran down Jory's spine.
This was the guy. The wizard. The real one.
Gale Dekarios, of Waterdeep.
In the flesh. Right there.
From what little Jory could see, the play had done him justice. He was a very handsome man, lithe and lean, long-legged with a powerful stride, and every bit as comely as Erik had depicted him to be.
Yet it was hard to imagine, through simple sight alone, that this was a man who had once been the Chosen of a god. Or that this was a man who had once vanquished the avatar of Death itself. A man who had put an end to the Cult of the Absolute.
A man who had once made his own decision about whether or not to plunge a dagger into his heart.
But it was easy to see why Shayla would want to stop him. This man clearly meant something to her.
He didn't know what providence deemed it necessary for him to ask. It certainly wasn't any of his business. But the question tumbled out of his mouth, unbidden. Perhaps the gods themselves just wanted to hear someone finally say it out loud.
"Does he know how you feel about him?"
Shayla slumped and let her hands fall limp to her sides. She pulled her lip into her mouth, and her eyes swam with visions of regret. "No," she whispered to him. "It was never the right time."
Oh, how irony could be so cruel.
"You should go after him, then," he told her. "Go quick. If you hurry, you can catch him before he gets to the front door."
"Shit!" she snarled and for a moment, Jory was afraid she'd scurry across the stage in the middle of Corinne's long and emotional speech. There was a wild streak in him that almost hoped she would. But instead, she bolted through the loading bay doors and flung herself outside, presumably to tear down the alley between the theater and the wine cellar to run around the building toward the front.
Nelsyn wandered over to them, sipping cold water from her mug and watching over her shoulder as the loading bay doors swung back and forth on their hinges.
"Jory," she stated flatly. "What did you do."
"What?!" he cried. Sara could only double over and laugh at him. "I didn't do anything!"
"Somebody did something," she said, eyeing the doors skeptically. "And it looks a lot like it was you."
"I'm serious! She asked if we could see him, and I told her yes. That's all."
"See who?"
"The wizard!"
"What wizard? You mean, like… Erik?"
"No!" He stuck out both hands and shook them. "The actual wizard! The real one, from Waterdeep! Yes, he's still alive! No, he didn't explode!"
"Well, everybody knows that…"
"She wanted to know where he was, so I told her, and then she ran out the door."
"Wait. So he was actually here tonight?"
"Jory," Sara accused him, still smiling pitifully at him as she crossed her arms over her chest. "That's not all you said to her."
"But I didn't -"
"You asked her a pretty personal question."
"Where was he sitting?" Nelsyn continued as she took another drink and leered at him over the rim over her mug.
"E6."
"Wow. Front and center."
"Yeah. She didn't want him to miss anything."
"So what did you ask her?"
Jory could only roll his eyes and sigh. None of them had time for this. He dropped his head and pinched his brow between his thumb and his forefinger but when he looked up, he found all eyes were on him. Even Erik and Velanthyr had paused their conversation long enough to turn around and stare. The technicians in the back tried to appear as if they weren't listening, but everyone knew they were. Suddenly, he could feel the heat that was trapped beneath the heavy mantle of his bear pelt.
"I asked her if he knew how she felt about him."
"What do you mean, how she felt…" And through the window of her eyes he could see her mentally calculating every single word she'd just sung. Right in front of the very man it was all intended for. Seated front and center, missing nothing. Her eyes flickered like golden flames.
"Holy shit," she breathed. "Like… feelings? Real ones? What did she say?"
He didn't get to answer. Just then, raucous applause erupted from behind them. The thunderous retort of clapping hands and cheers drowned all other sound, and signaled to them all that their time was up. Corinne came skipping backstage as the curtains fell behind her.
"And that's a wrap for me! Slam and a dunk! Go get 'em while they're - what's going on?"
"The wizard was here tonight," Nelsyn answered her without breaking her eye contact with Jory. "The real one. Shayla is in love with him. What did she sayyy?"
"No," he told her, holding very still while Sara dabbed a powder puff over his face. "She said no. He doesn't know."
"Are you serious?" Corinne gasped, pressing a hand to her heart.
"Well he does now," Sara chuckled, wriggling her eyebrows as she dropped the powder back into her cosmetics case. "I hope she caught him before he got away. He deserves an explanation."
And all around them, activity buzzed. Scenic backdrops rolled by, the intern fussed with Velanthyr's wig on her tiptoes, Sara dug frantically around searching for her lip stain, and the other actors began lining up to take their places. But in spite of the jubilant bustle of life happening all around them, Nelsyn could only stand with her mug in her hands, awestruck by the revelation they'd just been given.
"Sweet tapdancing Asmodeus," she laughed, shaking her head with her eyes transfixed on some far away place. "You mean to tell me that this whole time," she jostled the water in her mug when she bellowed, "THIS WHOLE TIME?! This whole play has been just a great big love letter to some… man?! For months?! And he only just heard it? Tonight? For the first time?"
"I think that about sums it up, yep," Sara told her, taking the mug from her hands.
"That's genius!" She shuffled to her place in line, utterly befuddled, her eyes glassy and glazed. "They're star-crossed, it's perfect! I wish this would've happened months ago! Just you wait, you'll see. When all the little fan fic authors out there find out about this? They are gonna go berserk! People everywhere will pay money for a vial of our sweat! The contents of our chamber pots - we'll be famous!
"Gods have mercy on us all. There might even be a sequel. We'll be touring this show til the day we die!"
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#bg3#baldur's gate 3#bg3 gale#gale bg3#gale dekarios#gale of waterdeep#tav x gale#gale x tav#galemance#bg3 fic#bg3 gale fic#bg3 fan fiction#bg3 gale fan fiction
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TMAGP 15 Thoughts: Seasoned Hunters
What a fucking episode. No complaints at all. It's just solid gold all the way through and just like gold it's a dense so there is lots to dig in to, and not much point in a preamble.
Spoilers for episode 15, and all of TMA, below the cut.
I really like the introductory office drama portion of today's episode. It's not particularly enlightening, and there isn't anything new in it, but it sets the stage well. Yes, that was a pun. Alice reacted to the news as I knew she would, because she can't help herself. But other than that I really like the mention of Luke playing at The Glad. Magnus stuff always does a really good job of peppering in real places.
This incident was also incredibly short. However unlike last week's episode I think it utilised that time so much better. All of it was a slow build up to one event and was really just three scenes. Set up, hunt, conclusion. Simple and to the point but incredibly effective. Last week's episode felt like too big of an idea bent to fit too short of a time, while this weeks felt like a good story that was given the time it needed and no more or less. Really big fan of the whole thing.
The incident didn't have too much to really get into here. If I were live blogging you would've seen me say "Lady Mowbray?!?!" when the Caterer said "the really high-end stuff". I have been waiting for something aristocratic. The set up is a little cliché but I really like the subversion of Battle Royale instead of The Most Dangerous Game. It's not only an effective twist when the story is from the Caterer's PoV it's a much better insight into the characters were being introduced to. It also highlights something fairly interesting about TMP vs TMA. This incident is one of the most singular in terms of its representation of a TMA Entity but that expectation is somewhat subverted by having these characters hunt each other for another rather than all be hunted down. It wouldn't be out of place in TMA but it is taking a bit of a different approach.
Speaking of the characters though. Fuck Yeah. Lady Mowbray. Finally. I, and probably all of Statement Remains, have been waiting for her appearance since last October when some lucky folks got to meet her bodyguards as part of the ARG. I didn't have her pegged for a badass cannibal but here we are. She really surpassed my expectations. I love aristocratic monster people so I had high hopes and I am still pleasantly surprised.
Celia and Lady M's interaction is really great. I love that we're getting more and more evidence that Celia is clearly more than she's letting everyone else in on. I, obviously at this point, think she's from TMA's universe for a lot of reasons. Lady M not being able to place why she smells so wrong but picking up on her being out of place is just more evidence of that. Celia holding her ground and not taking any shit from Lady M is also incredible. She just listened to how she eats people, gets jumped scared by her, and then instantly tells her to fuck off by way of not giving her a name. She's really living up to the Ripley namesake and I love every second of it.
I will not soon forget that tiny little tease about Bouchard lore either. Actually cruel.
Luke and Alice at the bar wasn't a big moment but it's nice to see her interact with more than just her co-workers. Meeting Luke and he being seemingly normal was also nice, be a shame when he dies.
The final section was phenomenal. I really love it when these shows break format and what a format break it was. So first things first this was recorded on a tape recorder. Significant for likely obvious reasons but unlike the last time these showed up this one isn't an incidental placement like the Institute's one. It was being carried by the woman. We know Alice feels like she's been followed since that incident and this is likely related to it but I don't think it's related in the most obvious sense. There is a very obvious conclusion to draw from TMA knowledge but I feel like that might be folly here. It seems a little too obvious and a little too strained at the same time. The Institute and [Error] being so related to that and in this fashion I think would feel a bit forced, and so this feels more like a red herring to me. Something is going on with them but I don't think it's going to be that.
So Drowning Victim, as she is credited, is super intriguing for a million reasons. Continuing on from that prior thought it's quite possible that the tape recorder and Alice being in the same place is entirely coincidental. It's one of those things that feels like a scheme from TMA context but everything being linked feels too TMA to me for right now. But what she's saying is really interesting. Because with those tape recorders it sounds like a statement. It's not just random mumbling but a fairly coherent narrative. Or a recalling of prior events. Whether the Drowning Victim is the original PoV for that potential statement is hard to say. I doubt it but it would be possible. Another strong idea here is that it is linked to [Error] and her deal might be another archive. Instead of just collection and storage she could be able to force others to relive them through the statements. That's a TMA parallel I think would be a much stronger use of TMA's theme.
Outside of that Alice's interaction with her is so so well done. I think it's really important to show that Alice both has a heart and is able to stop with her attitude when it's really important. Getting to see that when push comes to shove she can step up is going to be something that'll come back around. We all know that everyone at the OIAR is in for a world of hurt and I think Alice is the person the fanbase has the biggest issue with in that sort of context so far. And her singing Nellie the Elephant for compression rate is sort of heart breaking to listen to. Just a really fantastic performance from Billie and people better be nicer to Alice after this. I better not hear her getting any shit for running away either. She gave CPR to a woman who basically attacked her, drowned in the middle of London, died, and then kept talking.
Also, quite note, this episode had five new voice actors in it.
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Incident/CAT#R#DPHW Master Sheet
Klaus Watch: Wasn't expecting this to return so soon but here we are. This incident doesn't appear on Klaus but what does is this, CAT1RB2373-10072023-########. This has the accompanying note "Dame M" and a location "London, England".
DPHW Theory: 6451 is a pretty reasonable rating for this. Hunting mostly focused on the killing part of it. Some mental compulsion, seclusion, and obviously the predator/prey dynamic. The 1 in Weird is more evidence that 1 is the lowest rating with 0 being the highest. Nothing Weird in this one really.
CAT# Theory: CAT1 has a person in it.
I'm still debating whether to do a post on that theory because part of me does feel like it'd ruin other people's fun. Another part of me thinks that theories as prolific as that deserve to be scrutinised as intently as possible. Although there is a problem with that idea because my DPHW theory that has become the default does seem to be mine and I've not seen any cases of parallel thought on that one. The CAT theory has 10+ individuals all coming to roughly the same conclusion though and I'm not sure if that makes it more fair game or not. I, personally, welcome any challenges to my theories and I know some people who have posted the CAT theory do but that's not the same as them all holding that stance. It's not really possible to single anyone out either as it's not about any single person but the idea itself. IDK, give your thoughts on it.
This one does solidly fit into that theory though.
R# Theory: B sounds good to me. Although it's worth mentioning that there is a hyphen in this header between the rank and the DPHW.
Header talk: Hunt (Aristocratic) -/- Compulsion is interesting for two reasons. First off it being Hunt sort of precludes, secondly Compulsion is a strange filing for this IMO. There was an element of it but it was fairly minor and didn't seem like the thrust of the episode. The Caterer was compelled to be quiet but wasn't forced to hunt the rest of the brigade. He chose that when he realised what Lady M. was getting at.
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(Explore) “What's your name?”
The princess pulls back, looking a bit confused by the question. Then, she squints lightly.
“Why do you need to know?”
Voice of the Hero: Geez, we just asked for her name. No need to go to the defensive.
…
…
…
Voice of the Hero: Uhm. Aren’t you going to keep describing?
There’s not much to describe, the princess is simply looking at you expectantly. Aren’t you going to say something to her?
…
…
…
…
Hm. Weird. This is usually the part where you’re given the option to say something else– unless… you don’t want to leave this branch of conversation yet?
Voice of the Hero: ……I guess we can keep asking about her name?
“C’mon, I just asked your name! That’s a pretty standard conversation topic, right?”
Voice of the Hero: Oh. It worked!
Huh. Fascinating… a bit bothersome that you can also just interject in the middle of the narration like this, but fascinating nonetheless.
“Well, this isn’t really a standard conversation location, is it?”
Voice of the Hero: OK, she’s got a point there. I guess I also wouldn’t want to just sit around and make small talk while trapped in a basement.
You could tell her your name first. That way, you can build rapport and make her comfortable enough to share her own name. Building rapport and showing your non-threatening nature is a great way to thread a social interaction.
Voice of the Hero: That’s… not a bad idea, actually. Tell our name first, then she might feel better about sharing hers!
…
…
…
…
…
Voice of the Hero: Do we…… know our name?
If you’re asking me, the new guy who knows nothing about you except for what’s in this script, then I’m going to go on a wild limb and say you very probably don’t.
Voice of the Hero: But– We have to have a name, right? Everyone has a name!
It is a very useful tool for communication and categorizing civilizations have been using for ages, yes.
Voice of the Hero: So, what does that mean? We hit our head on the way here or something?
Well–
“…are you… OK?”
Look, names aren’t always necessary. Sometimes, just your role in the narrative is enough. Take me, for instance, I don’t need any other moniker but my role as ✨The Narrator✨.
“…can you even listen? Is this name thing really that important to you?”
Voice of the Hero: I guess… though not having an actual name to be called by is so weird.
I can start calling you Stanley, if it makes you feel better.
Voice of the Hero: It makes me feel worse, actually.
“OK, fine! I don’t know my name!”
The princess snaps, forcing your attention out of your own head and back to her.
Voice of the Hero: Oh. Oops. My bad.
She looks worked up; her face set in a glare, though there’s some nervousness to how her eyes flick about your face.
…
Voice of the Hero: We… could tell her we also don’t remember our name?
“If it makes you feel better, I also don’t remember my name.”
The Princess’ features soften. Her posture relaxs as she regards you once again.
“Huh. I wonder what that means.”
Voice of the Hero: Me too. Seems too coincidental that we both wouldn't know our names.
Feels like we’re more like her than anything else. Makes the whole ‘we have to slay her’ business all the more weird, doesn’t it?”
This conversation has been really nice and all, but I must urge you to progress now to progress from this branch. Or else how can the story continue?
Voice of the Hero: Right… Sorry again for losing track of things.
Yes, quite unprofessional of you.
Voice of the Hero: OK, no need to be so condescending.
Not without meaning though, seems like you forged something of a connection with the princess. Wonder how that’ll affect the story……
But anyhow, we dawdled for long enough, it’s nigh time for you to progress the story.
Voice of the Hero: Agreed. I think the princess waited long enough. Time to make your choice.
#Displaced Narrator AU#tsp narrator#voice of the hero#stp princess#stp protagonist#slay the princess#the stanley parable#choose your own adventure#sal writes#polls
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Hi there!! Is there anyway where we could get a Ragatha x reader. Where the reader comforts Ragatha who starts to feel somewhat unappreciated by some of the other members of the circus. Maybe the reader could give Ragatha a small present they working on just for her to show her she does have someone who cares and appreciates her. Please I just want her to feel some form of love and appreciation. She is legit such a sweat heart and I wanna tell her how amazing she is.😭😭😭
Giving thanks
Ragatha x Gn!reader
Hi! This seems like such a great idea, I literally stayed up until 1AM to finish it. I agree Ragatha is such a sweetie she deserves the best, also in this fic she has a small mental breakdown but it’s all okay because the reader is a sweetheart. Enjoy!
A simple thank you would have been enough, that's all she wanted. She wanted the others to finally notice all the mental and physical help she gave. The comfort she provided to Pomni when she first arrived, whenever Gaggle's mask broke because Jax made the trip. Ragatha always made sure to help. When Zooble or Kinger were having a rough day she’d take time out of her day just to make them feel better. She never minded doing it, until now at least.
Ragathas posture was slumped with tiredness and her shoulders were stiff showing her stress. She sat in her room contemplating, she felt so out of it. All she wanted was for someone to notice the effort she offered every day.
You could tell Ragatha was distressed, at first you thought she just felt like being quiet, you had days like that yourself but today felt different she seemed somewhat depressed. Her pretty smile gone and her chipper attitude deflated. It made you sad to see her that way, you hoped a small gift would lift her spirits, a red paper flower, it was a similar red to her hair and just thinking about it made a small smile grow on your face. But first, you wanted to make sure she was okay, she was the backbone of this circus and God knows without her we would all be lost.
You made your way to her room hesitantly flower in hand and approached her room quietly, you softly knocked on the door, not to startle her. "Hey, Ragatha," you said softly, your voice holding concern.
You heard a muffled shuffle in the room, then her door slightly opened, only being able to see part of her face, "Oh, uh hello," she murmured awkwardly, forcing a weary smile.
"I noticed you've been off lately," You said, gently “Are you alright?” You asked, it felt like such a silly question, clearly, she wasn’t alright she’d been avoiding everyone all day.
“I-um well-“ Ragatha stumbled over her words, nobody had asked her that in a while, that thought alone hit her like a title wave of emotions. She started to break down, and through broken sobs, she barely choked out, “I just, I’ve been doing so much and no one has shown an ounce of gratitude!" “I’ve done so much and it feels like it’s for nothing, no matter what I do it’ll never be noticed…” You looked at her with wide eyes, is this really how she felt this whole time? How could you not notice? “Ragatha..” you use your hand to push up her chin so she can look you in the eyes. “I hear you. It's completely understandable that you're feeling this way. Trust me when I say your kindness and support haven't gone unnoticed, even if it may have seemed that way. We all rely on you more than you might realize, and your efforts haven't gone unappreciated. You're not alone in this, and I'm here to support you, just like you've supported everyone else.", “Here, I have a gift for you.” You said bashfully, “I know it’s not the prettiest thing in the world but I was hoping it was enough to make you feel a bit better.”
With trembling fingers, Ragatha carefully took the paper flower. Tears welled up in her eyes as she realized the effort that went into it. Finally, even if it was as small as this it was still so perfect.
"It's... it's beautiful," she managed to choke out, her voice thick with emotion.
You smiled warmly. "I wanted to express my gratitude for everything you do," "You're always there for others, offering comfort and support. Your kindness hasn't gone unnoticed, Ragatha."
Ragatha's heart swelled with warmth as she looked at the gift in her hands. At that moment, she felt a wave of adoration wash over her, lifting the weight of loneliness from her shoulders.
"Thank you," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "Thank you for seeing me, for hearing me, for understanding."
As Ragatha looked at the thoughtful gift before her, "It’s so lovely," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “Something you both got in common" you replied, God that was embarrassingly sappy, Ragatha let out a sweet laugh, leaning in closer, your eyes locked on hers. "Seriously though please know that I care about you, Ragatha. More than you'll ever know."
Ragatha's breath caught in her throat as she felt the warmth of your hand on hers, her heart racing with nervousness. "I... I care about you too," she finally admitted, a shy smile spreading across her face.
She finally had someone who cared, someone who appreciated her for the kind-hearted soul she was.
And in that simple gesture of kindness, Ragatha found the love and appreciation she had been yearning for all along.
#the amazing digital circus#the amazing digital circus ragatha#ragatha x reader#tadc ragatha x reader#ragatha x reader tadc#ragatha x reader the amazing digital circus#the amazing digital circus x reader#the amazing digital circus fanfiction#tadc x reader#tadc
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｡･:*˚:✧ It's for the best .ೃ࿐
Keith Kogane x Fem!Reader
Synopsis: locked in a cell, the white paladin remembers her happier times and hopes that she can make it back to a certain black paladin.
Tags: slight angst, flashbacks, mentions of torture but not graphic, set tentatively around season 4
Word count: 3.7K
Apparently, vld is having a resurgence so send in some requests!
You knew it was for the best. Sat cross-legged in the confines of your cell with a small smile on your lips, contented, knowing that you have done everything you could, that this wasn't in vain- rather it was what was supposed to happen. For the betterment of the entire universe, sometimes sacrifices need to be made. You remember telling Keith something similar during one of his many brooding moments. Now wishing that you could remember which conversation it was or maybe just that you had paid more attention to your time together, especially now you didn’t think you would ever see the boy with the mullet again.
You were sat next to Hunk, the pair of you looking up giddily at Takashi Shirogane, the famed astro explorer. He was speaking to the class about his recent accomplishment as he had just broken the record for the fastest orbital velocity. Everyone had tried the flight simulator and despite not being able to get passed level 3- like the rest of the class you were still excited by the prospect of meeting the youngest pilot to ever lead a mission in space. Even more happy that you had done better than James Griffin in the simulator- as he never stopped going on about his good grades and how much better he is. So to wipe that smirk off his face made it all worth it. As you and Hunk were fangirling in the corner you heard Griffins whining causing your attention to go back to the simulator, where apparently one more person was having a go. The pair of you walked towards the commotion as the annoyed brunette sounded out “No way! Keith made it past level five?! Thing's got to be broken.” That was the first moment you saw him, well properly at least. The young boy with a mullet and a ‘disciplinary issue’ if you were to listen to what your teachers told you. He walked away from the training simulator with a grin on his face and you couldn’t help but smile too. Especially when he looked your way as he walked off.
‘He doesn't even know you're gone’ you muse to yourself, and it’s true. The last you had heard from him was on the other side of a screen during a planning meeting with the Blade surrounded by your teammates, who similarly had yet to know the fate of the white paladin of Voltron. They would soon realise when you don't return through the wormhole and when they find your lion broken and alone. But then it will already be too late, as the galaran ship that held you prisoner was already galaxies away taking you towards inevitable doom. You think you're pathetic, as you are already giving up but what else can you do, your weapon is gone, lion missing, and you are locked in a cell with only your body inside of it with nobody even knowing where you are- not even you. Worry roots deeply inside of yourself as you think of your friends, a lump in your throat growing at the thought of them discovering that you're gone- they have all lost enough already. You’re sure Lance would try to be enthusiastic, claiming that they found Shiro so they could find you. Still, even he would know the saddening truth that the galarans won’t make the same mistake twice as he tries to hide his tears from Pidge who would be clinging to Hunk, begging him to tell her it’s not true- she only just got her brother back and now she has lost her sister- blood related or not. You knew it would destroy the team if you couldn’t get back to them and what worries you is that you're struggling to see a way that you can.
It was nerve-wracking, waiting to find out who Iverson and the rest of the teachers decided to team you up with for the simulators. It was a big deal, as this was going to be your team for the rest of your time in the Garrison. Last year you couldn’t wait for this moment, but maybe that was because you were certain that the boy with the mullet would be by your side as you were as Shiro put it “the only person that can put up with him” but he left, dropped out without so much of a goodbye, and you could understand, the loss of Shiro, Matt and Sam was difficult for everyone but nobody took it worse than Keith and you suppose it made sense as Shiro was all the boy had. You shook the thoughts of him out of your mind when Iverson finally came into the room, twiddling the rings on your rings on your fingers as you stood near Hunk who looked ghostly pale and going on queasy as you both prayed that the older man would do you both a solid and put you two together. You listened as he called names into groups, feeling somewhat better when Griffin was put in a group that didn't include you. Then your name was called and you were told to stand next to a tall Cuban boy wearing blue, you smiled as you walked up to him and he smiled back seemingly just as nervous as you were, then a smaller boy with round glass and a green jumper joined the group, your eyes squinting when looking at him, almost as if you had seen him before but you couldn’t place where. But before you could question it Hunk's name fell out of Iverson’s lips, you looked up in alarm as you saw Hunk coming towards your group, shocked that your prayers had been answered. The fear that was eating away at you was dulled slightly as he came to stand next to you. Sure it wasn’t the team that you wanted but maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Being in space has always made your internal clock question how long has passed, but it seems to be worse when alone in this cell. You believe it has been a few days based on the number of trays of food delivered to your cell, the only interaction with another you’ve had this whole time. At least you think, as you find yourself waking up exhausted with pains and aches all over your body, but you have no memory of doing anything or even anyone coming into your cell in the first place. You thought you would've been face to face with Zarkon or his witch by now, but as time passes, you struggle to believe that would happen at all, which causes a pit to develop in your stomach as the unknown of your future begins to dawn on you.
You can still hear the conforming hum of your lion in the back of your head, trying to reassure you that all is well but as the days pass by you begin to believe it less and less simply repeating to yourself that it was for the best.
“Things could’ve been a lot worse” you theorised. Sat with Pidge in this trash heap with your lions completely shut down. At least you were together and there were (up to now) no enemies trying to kill you both. To be honest, you wouldn’t want to be stuck here with anyone else. After Pidge finally revealed to everyone that she was in fact a girl, something you had figured out back in your garrison days, not long after you had become a team and saw the photo of her and Matt taken prior to the Kerberos mission, but you only knew because he had shown it to you first, during one of his many tutoring sessions with you. You liked to think that while Shiro was Keith’s mentor, Matt was yours. A sentiment he very much enjoyed, so much that Pidge later told you that she had already known who you were when she met you. A fact that made your heart swell. Your friendship with Matt was one of the many reasons that Pidge thought of you like a sister and the main reason you looked after her so much- you wanted to look after her for him while he couldn’t and while this mindset got you into many arguments with Keith over putting her safety over your own you wouldn’t change a thing because you knew it was the right thing to do (Also Keith couldn’t really say anything as he constantly put himself in harms way for everyone on the team.) You couldn’t help but feel protective over her as she was the youngest out of your ragtag bunch and was annoyingly the only one you could baby as you were the second youngest of the group as Lance loved to remind you. While being here with Pidge definitely made you feel a little better, you couldn’t help but be relentlessly worried for the rest of the group, as they always found some way to get into trouble- especially Lance and Keith. It was like trouble sought them out, always getting into some sort of issue whether it be with aliens or with each other. So you couldn’t help but double over in laughter when Pidge using her junk-made paladins started an argument between the fake Lance and Keith. Eventually, you both decided that you had waited around for help long enough and decided to try and find your own way back to the castle. Pidge made you gather together materials to make a home beacon signal in hopes that it could reach the castles of lions to allow them to find you two. No surprise to you Pidge’s brilliance worked its magic as the castle of lions appeared in the sky from a wormhole, the pair of you hugged each other happy knowing that you weren’t going to grow old on a trash pile as you had both dramatically claimed. You two were more than ready to return to the fight against Zarkon to save the universe and hopefully, find Pidge’s family.
You dream of him, black hair, violet eyes and his grumpy temperament clouding your thoughts as you try to rest. But, when you wake cold and alone in that dark cell you are reminded of the present and how you need to try and stop yourself from dreaming of the past.
Thought it was “just goodbye for now” you bitterly mumbled as you awoke from another dream of him. This time the memory sticks with you- of the goodbye you shared as he left to find himself with the blades, those were the words he uttered to you as you blanketed him in your embrace. That it was temporary, that you two would come back together again and you remember how you smiled through your sadness nodding at his words, believing him truthfully- as you always did. But you are now struggling to believe it anymore and you don't know if you are more mad at him for uttering those words or yourself for trusting them to be true. Up to now, all attempts to contact your lion have failed miserably but you can still hear your lion if you concentrate enough- as though you two are connected to the same string and you pray that it never snaps, clinging onto it like a lifeline.
You were buzzing, tapping your hands against your legs as you bounced on the balls of your feet, waiting for Pidges Lion in the cockpit while the rest of the team looked at you, amused. Lance, clearly feeding off your joyous attitude, ruffled the hair on your head, messing it up slightly. You turned to the boy, pouting as he withdrew his hands, using your own to try to flatten whatever mess he had made as he giggled at your reaction. A smile quickly returned to your face when Pidge stepped out of her lion with a familiar boy following behind her, you ran towards the pair, wrapping your arms around Matt’s shoulders in welcome, your smile only increasing when he hugged back with just as much gusto, you could hear Lance muttering something about someone being jealous if they were here to Hunk and Shiro but you weren’t paying close enough attention to anything he said, instead, you were very happy that the man who you would call a brother was really okay and just like Shiro had survived the Kerberos mission. When the family reunion had ended Pidge introduced Matt to the rest of the group, except for Keith as he was yet again away on some mission with the Blades. You watched amused as Matt’s eyes landed on Allura and something similar to what you see in a romcom played out as he screamed “You are so beautiful!” you struggled to keep the giggles to yourself as you saw Coran turn red in anger, clearly seeing this as an inappropriate way to talk to the princess and finding humour in Lance’s clear jealousy as Hunk made the boy walk away from the group. You decided to do something similar telling Pidge to give Matt a tour of the castle ship as you walked away with Coran and Allura, pulling both the alteans away with your hands.
Calming down an angry altean was albeit harder than you expected, especially when Allura was of no help at all as she was just laughing at how worked up the older man had become, but you understood it was because he felt so protective over her especially since there was no Alfor to help him and she was like Coran’s little girl so nobody would ever be good enough, you whispered just as much to him as Allura was talking to her mice and that seemed to make him less annoyed, knowing that somebody else understood him. It wasn’t until later when gossiping with Allura about your lives before all this, that she mentioned that it wasn’t just Matt’s interaction with her that annoyed Coran but also his interaction with you, claiming that he always got annoyed when others in his eyes tried to “flirt” with you, her or Pidge. However, she quickly noted that he never got annoyed or got Lance and Hunk to intimidate Keith like he did anyone else when it comes to you a comment made your cheeks burn.
You startle awake to the sound of your cell door being opened, eyes darting towards the light, confused when the door continues to open, eyes squinting from the light now surrounding you for the first time in weeks as you try to identify the body in front of you when a voice gasped out and a familiar voice spoke your name. All worry evaporated from your body as Matt Holt wrapped you in a hug and you knew for the first time in weeks that everything would be okay and that maybe Keith was right- it was just goodbye for now.
You now sat in the control room of the ship you had been captured in surrounded by freedom fighters. After hearing over hacked intercoms about it carrying ‘precious cargo’ for the emperor, they had infiltrated and taken control of the ship.
“And that was me was it?” you mused looking towards the Holt boy to which he cracked a smile sending you a simple nod in response. You had changed into your white and silver spacesuit and your bayard had been retrieved for you. Now more than ready to return home to the castle of lions, to the paladins and to him.
The first thing you saw, unsurprisingly, as the ship came out of the wormhole was your lion, growling in happiness, bounding towards her paladin only stopping when she was at the front of the ship, eyes locked onto you. You smiled gleefully at your lion feeling your connection stronger than ever, as though the string that attached the you two was unwavering, unbreakable. As soon as the ship reached the castle of lions you were enveloped in the paladin’s embrace, you would’ve fallen over when Pidge launched herself into your arms, legs wrapped around your middle like a koala, if weren’t for Lance keeping you balanced by surrounding you in a hug from behind. Hunk joined the misfit group of cadets finishing off the group hug similar to how they used to in the Garrison when they, for once, completed the training simulator much to Iverson’s shock. Thoughts of worry could be seen swimming through Shiro’s eyes as you caught them when looking up, he nodded at you, the tension flinging off him like water down a hill as you turned back to your family holding Pidge and Lance by the backs of their heads, smiling and reassuring them that this was real, that you were real as tears dropped from the twos eyes. You could feel Hunk’s laboured breaths, clearly trying to stay strong for the group as the rest were blubbering messes. Walking away from your embrace and towards the freedom fighters with Shiro shaking hands and thanking them for getting you back to them as the trio dropped towards the floor, holding onto each other like it was the last time.
It was only later when you had changed into your everyday wear, speaking with Allura and Coran holding both of their hands, stroking them gently that the paladins noticed the new scars decorating your arms and some scorch marks adjourned your neck along with bruising that you wouldn’t comment on. Or rather that you couldn’t as you claimed to not remember anything except for the dark room you were kept in and then Matt saving you. Another change was your hair, which had a white streak in it, you simply chuckled at the development turning to Shiro claiming "We match now" causing everyone to laugh and they supposed it fit you well - “As she is the white paladin” Lance claimed.
It was only when Coran transferred your memories temporarily into a crystal that they all saw what you endured on the ship, you were beaten and tortured for answers, electrocuted, burned for sport and tested on by some druids. At that point, they stopped watching as Shiro was looking rather green, probably from remembering his own time with those vile creatures. But you mused that you were lucky as you still had all your limbs and according to Coran who looked at your scan results from the healing pod whatever they were trying on you didn’t work as you were the same as you were before, “except for a few scars and a new hair colour that is” He pondered twiddling his moustache. And he was right of course you didn’t feel any different, maybe a bit more anxious at night and a few more nightmares but who could blame you after being trapped in a dark room for weeks. Of course, the memory loss was slightly concerning but they all believed it to be a coping mechanism to keep you sane and you were glad that you could only properly remember the dark room, that it was all that really haunted you at night and that those things you saw on the screen projected from your mind didn’t and you hoped it stayed that way.
The entire universe that was apart of the coalition let out a sigh of relief when it was revealed by Allura on comms to the members of the alliance that the white paladin of Voltron had been found and returned mostly unharmed. However, nobody’s relief could be felt greater than that of Keith Kogane who had been fighting with Kolivan for weeks when they received the information of your disappearance and probable capture, he remembers the way his legs nearly gave out from under him when during a meeting with Allura the altean claimed that Voltron couldn’t come to the rescue this time as they were missing a paladin- missing you. He Surprisingly didn’t even need to sneak out on a blade ship to try and find the castle of lions to see if it was true, rather Kolivan who was probably fed up with his moping simply turned to the boy and gave him ship and co-ordinates simply asking him to back in time for the next meeting. The older Galaran didn’t think he'd see the boy move so fast, mumbling annoyed about how much more work would get done if he did.
You didn’t hear him on comms asking for Coran to allow him into the cockpit, too busy in the training deck with Shiro and Allura showing them that despite being out of action for a few weeks you were ready to get back out there because as you told them “the gala don’t wait for anyone” and that “this revolution wasn’t going to fight itself.” You didn’t even hear your teammates asking for you to come to the control room over comms, far too busy fighting the training dummies and your comms device left on the side. What you did notice was when you were lifted from behind, a pair of pale arms grabbing you by the waist causing a gasp to erupt from your throat, You spun around ready to attack until your eyes met his, and then your sword dropped to the floor as Keith held you in his arms, staring intensely at you as if you would disappear if he dared to look away for even a second. You quickly returned the embrace, arms circling his back as you threw your head onto his chest, almost unbelieving that he was there, his arms moved, crowding around your head pulling you impossibly closer to his body as he noticed the white strand of hair, his fingers pressed against it confused as he rested his nose atop your head, breathing you in, reminding himself that this was in fact, real and not just one of his sick dreams he has been having since finding out you were gone.
Being held in his arms made everything real, and you thought that if you had to through everything all over again just to have this moment, in his arms, you would. It was all be for the best if you ended up in his arms at the end of it all.
#keith kogane x reader#keith x reader#keith kogane#vld keith#keith voltron#voltron#voltron x reader#voltron legendary defender#vld x reader#vld fic#keith kogane fanfic#keith kogane fic#Keith kogane imagine
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