#I hope I can just have him as a companion

[backtothefanfiction]

Amnesia

Joaquin Torres x Stark!Reader

Summary: after a mission gone wrong and a two week long endured coma, you're left with a bit of memory loss.

Word Count: 2.2k+

Warnings: grief, mcu endgame spoilers, injury, hospital, amnesia, hurt/comfort, reader insert, Y/N, made up birthdate and mother

A/N: As promised yesterday. Warning this is some major emotional damage, but was so fun to write. This takes place further down the storyline of the Joaquin x Stark!reader stuff I've done before, but you don't have to have read them to understand this. Also I've tried to tag who I can but if I have forgotten anyone interested in my Joaquin stuff I'm sorry and hope this finds you all the same. Anyway, enjoy.

You had no idea how long you had been asleep. Couldn’t even remember taking yourself to bed. No doubt you had fallen asleep in front of the TV and your Dad had carried you up and tucked you in like he used to when you were five. But the more you stirred, the more you realised this bed felt too firm to be your own. And your body was propped at an awkward angle, almost like you’d fallen asleep in one of your Dad’s recliners.

But there was also too much background noise for you to be at home. The droning cacophony of voices sounding too echoey for you to have fallen asleep in the penthouse. And then there was the beeping. Steady and rhythmic like a heartbeat. As you forced your dry eyes to open and assess the situation fully you realised it wasn’t just any heart beat, it was yours. Pressure over your index finger signifying the monitor there. 

Okay, so you were in a hospital room, you realised, more features of the room coming into focus as you looked around the private room you were in. No doubt organised and paid for by your Dad. But how did you get here? What had happened to land you here? And who was the random guy at the side of your bed. You looked him over. He was wearing a black t-shirt and black jeans. His arms looked fairly muscular beneath his jacket and you figured he was just one of Happy’s lackeys here to watch over you and keep you safe.

He wasn’t doing a very good job though seeing as he currently had one hand propped to his head and he was dozing. As you looked closer at his bronzed skin, you noticed he had heavy circles under his eyes, informing you he hadn’t been sleeping much lately. Maybe he had been here all night and was just waiting for Happy or someone to come relieve him for the day shift.

“Ah she’s finally awake,” a cheerful voice said from the doorway. You looked up to find a youthful blonde nurse standing with a clipboard in hand. At the sound of her voice, the man in the chair at your bedside shook himself awake, his fingers rubbing the tiredness from his eyes. He looked to where the voice came from in the doorway before seeming to fully realise what she had said as she entered the room and began to move around the other side of the bed towards you.

“I’m just going to check over some of your vitals to give to the Doctor and he’ll be in in a moment to talk you through everything. Okay?”

“Okay,” you confirmed.

Although your attention was focused on the nurse, you couldn’t help but notice the way the man at your side sat forward on his chair and reached out for you. “What time is it?” you turned and asked him, his hand reaching for his phone to check the time. “What time are my Dad or Happy gonna get here?” you asked him further and his face fell, his brow furrowing as you question sunk in and you realised, maybe this guy wasn’t with your Dad or Happy at all.

He looked up to the nurse concerned and when you turned to look at her too to put a voice to whatever silent information was in the room you couldn’t decipher, you noticed the similar face of confusion to the companion at your side.

Something wasn’t right, but you didn’t know what it was.

“Y/N?” the man at your side said hesitantly.

“Yes,” you said, wondering why he would say your name as if you wouldn’t recognise it or know who you are.

“Mr Torres, it’s alright,” the nurse said trying to settle him as she stepped forward to you, “Miss Stark I’m going to ask you a few questions and I want you to answer them to the best of your ability. Okay?” she asked in her kindly manner, her tone intentionally curated to try and put you at ease.

“Okay,” you confirmed, if not slightly hesitant.

“Can you tell me your full name?”

“Y/N Y/M/N Stark.”

“Perfect. And your date of birth?”

“07/07/1999” your replied and the nurse seemed to be satisfied with that.

“Can you tell me the names of your parents?”

“Meridith Holtzman and Tony Stark.”

“Okay, perfect.”

“And where do you currently live?”

“Stark Tower, Manhattan, New York.” The nurse looked at her notes and frowned. “Look, is my dad gonna be here soon or?” Your two companions in the room froze. “What? What is it?”

“Miss Stark, what year do you think it?” the nurse asked.

“It’s 2016. I literally just had my 17th birthday last week.”

The nurse and your male companion in the room looked at each other with concern. He quickly stood, his teeth nibbling at the skin around his thumb as he began to pace with worry. 

“Mr Torres, don’t worry. This can be quite common in coma patients. I’ll go get the doctor, he’ll be able to do a better assessment of her brain scan and give you a better analysis of what’s happening.” the nurse began to explain to him.

“And what do I do in the meantime. I mean, she clearly has no idea who I am.”

“Well, maybe reintroduce yourself. You never know, maybe it will jog her memory.” 

“Okay,” he said dejectedly. “Uh, thank you,” he quickly added as she began to leave.

“I’ll go get the doctor,” she reaffirmed to give him hope.

“Soooo, when’s my Dad getting here?” you asked him when he came back to your bedside.

“Ummm,” he said hesitantly before he let out a deep sigh. “Uhh, I really don’t know how to answer that,” he confided as he hung his head, struggling to keep eye contact with you.

“Well can you call Happy and find out?” 

“Y/N,” he implored, his hand reaching out for yours, his fingers brushing across the back of your hand making you tense up beneath his touch, “do you not recognise me at all?” he asked.

“Should I?” you asked hesitantly, slowly pulling your hand from this strange guy's touch, but his fingers got caught on a piece of jewelry on your finger. You looked down at the diamond ring confused. “Whose ring is this? Where did it come from?” you asked. Your words seemed to stab him like knives. “I’m sorry, who are you? I mean, I thought you worked for Happy, but? Look where is my Dad. I just want to see my Dad.” you said adamantly, slowly becoming distressed.

“Y/N,” he sighed again sympathetically, “your Dad died 4 years ago.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“In the battle against Thanos.”

“Who now?”

“Uh, fuck!” he grunted under his breath as his hand rubbed frustratedly over his face.

“Look, I don’t have a clue what’s going on?” you said, growing equally frustrated. “I don’t even know how I got here.”

“We were on a mission together. There was an accident.  I was distracted, I’m sorry,” he stressed. “God, this is all my fault,” he muttered to himself. “You sustained a head injury.” he continued to explain to you, trying to make himself calm down so as not to stress you out. “The doctors have had you in a coma for the last two weeks waiting for the swelling on your brain to go down.”

You paused and looked at him confused as you waited for the information to sink in. “So this isn’t 2016.” you said to him.

“No,” he confirmed. “It’s 2027.”

You looked at the sorrow in his eyes. The emotional pain on his face. You clearly meant a lot to him and you not currently recognising him was killing him. You looked again at the ring on your finger. “You gave me this?” you half asked, half stated.

“Yes,” he said quietly and nodded. You were both quiet for a moment as you took that in. “Oh wait,” he said, suddenly getting an idea and reaching for his phone. You watched as he typed in your birthday as his passcode. There was a picture of you and him and a dog as his background. Your hair was dyed in the picture, the ends purple and orange and when you looked down, you spotted the faded remnants of the color that hadn't been topped up in weeks. You lifted the ends up to inspect them closer.

“Here,” he said, leaning over the bed with the phone a picture up on the display. “This is us just after I proposed,” he said, a picture of both of your smiling faces on the screen with your ring clad hand being held up to the camera. He swiped and there was a picture of you both on the beach. “This is us in Hawaii last year,” he said. “This is us and your sister Morgan.” he said, swiping again.

“I have a sister?” you frowned in disbelief. The young girl looked no older than 7 in the picture but her features told you enough to know she was also your Father’s daughter. 

“Yeah. And this is Dougie.” he said, scrolling to a picture of you and the dog you saw as his phone background. “You adopted him last year when you were in the middle of your therapy” he informed you. 

Although it was information and sensory overload you couldn’t deny the photo evidence before you and let him go on as he continued to take you down memory lane. “And this is us with Cap in Cambodia a couple months ago.”

“I’m sorry who?” you frowned, recognising the suit and its colors, but not the man wearing them. 

“Captain America. You know, Sam.” he said, as if that should mean something to you.

“Wait, isn’t he one of the guys my Dad fought in Germany. I thought he was the Falcon. What happened to Uncle Steve?” you asked.

“Ummm, that’s a little more complicated to explain. He went back in time and became an old man and then when he came back he handed over the shield to Sam before he died and-”

“Wait-” you cut him off, “you’re telling me both my Dad and Steve are dead?” There was a pause between you as his guilt once again took over. “Captain America and Iron Man… are dead.” you said again, looking for confirmation.

“Well, Captain America isn’t dead. But Steve Rogers is, yes.”

“Okay…” you said, growing quiet as you let that sink in as he began to flick through photos again. After he’d swiped through another 3 and talked you through them, you finally said, “Who else is dead?” He froze. His silence was enough to confirm your Dad and Steve weren’t the only ones to die when fighting this Thanos person he had name dropped.

“Look who else died, Joaquin,’ you blurted out and he looked at you in surprise.

“You just said my name,” he beamed.

“I did,” you confirmed, not completely sure where you had pulled the name from.

“I think this is working,” he said. “Okay, this is a picture of you at your Dad and Pepper’s wedding,” he continued to flick through, some older pictures of you saved onto his phone too. “And this is you and Sam playing with Morgan. You opening the Heroes stadium in memory of your Dad, Steve and Natasha.”

“Natasha.” you said, the name falling from your lips as an image of the redhead flashed before your mind; her teaching you how to fight in the gym behind your Dad’s back. Tears began to fill your eyes as you slowly remembered the moment Clint came back without Nat, the memory hazy at the edges, but the strong emotional pain, fixing you to the most important part of the memory. “Natasha died.” you confirmed. She had been like your older sister. She’d taught you so many things over the years. Not just how to fight, but how to talk to boys and do your make up and- Your thoughts became a blur as all those memories crashed into you and as you continued to follow the thread, more and more started to come back to you.

“Joaquin?” you said, your voice broken and wobbly.

“Yeah, I’m here baby, I’m here.” he reassured as he climbed fully onto the small hospital bed and wrapped you up into his eyes and your grief hit you a fresh all over again. But as your grief washed over you like a tidal wave, other memories began to come to mind. Moments of grief. Joaquin sat with you on the floor as you cried. Him driving you to your therapy sessions. Him taking you to the shelter to pick out Dougie. He was your rock. The one who had been by your side and helped you heal.

“I’m sorry.” you said, as you sobbed into his shoulder. “I forgot you, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said, the hint of a smile to his voice, “you’re back now. You’re here now. Everything will be okay.”

“Joaquin, I love you,” you mumbled against his chest and he chuffed with relief.

“I love you too, baby. I love you too.”

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@navs-bhat @kirsteng42 @mischiefmanaged71 @magikdarkholme @hrlzy @quakeismyhero @deskofninak @yourbuckyyourpal @joaquinwhorres @houseofheimdall @astro-parker @canvascoloredin @mymusicismylife77 @accioharry @bbangsuns @danceislife27 @mmkkzz @nya116 @thegirlwiththerecs @websterss @annab-nana @annab-recs @notsoliteraryavenger @moonymeloncholymoney @phucboy @xxemmarldxx @goose-nest @svtbabiesrecs @strange-hyperfixations

[xichilie]

brant x female reader. But. She is just as dramatic as him? How would that fair if they had simular personality's, and she had a strange fascionation with orange juice instead of wine?

Can i still ask? Thank you, for your time hope all is well!

I really had fun writing this, I love this dramatic man, sm, imagine the Fools having to deal with two of them. XD

The duel of fools

The Fool’s Elysium had always been a place of chaos and spectacle, but tonight, the energy in the cavern was unlike any before. The golden glow of lanterns flickered against the rocky walls, casting long, dancing shadows as the Troupe of Fools bustled about, preparing for the evening’s entertainment.

At the heart of it all stood Brant, perched atop a wooden crate like a king upon his throne. His deep crimson coat flared dramatically as he placed one foot on the edge, his arms stretched wide. The firelight caught in his striking pink eyes, making them gleam with the intensity of a man about to make the most unnecessary yet captivating speech imaginable.

“Loyal friends, fellow performers, bringers of joy and chaos alike!” Brant’s voice rang through the cavern, smooth as silk, rich with unshaken confidence. “Tonight, we gather here not for mere revelry, nor for the simple pleasures of our trade—no! Tonight, we mourn! We weep! We lament a loss so profound, so unspeakably tragic, that even the stars of Solaris 3 dim in sorrow!”

A dramatic pause. The crowd of Troupe members leaned in.

“What happened?” Tina called out, grinning as she played along.

Brant placed a hand over his heart, shaking his head as if the weight of the revelation threatened to crush him. Then, in the most devastated, anguished tone possible, he declared:

“We have run out of wine.”

A collective groan rippled through the Troupe.

Some clutched their chests in mock distress. Others shook their heads, murmuring, “Not the wine,” as if speaking of a dearly departed friend.

Brant let out a long, suffering sigh. “Ah, what is a Fool without his wine? A mere shadow of a man! A performer stripped of his muse! A—”

“A fool who is about to be outshined!”

A voice rang out over the cavern, clear and bold, cutting through his lament like a knife through silk.

And then—she appeared.

Y/N.

Brant’s greatest rival. His most infuriatingly delightful companion. A woman who matched his theatrical nature step for step, who could outwit him, outmaneuver him, and worst of all—steal his spotlight.

She leaped onto the crate beside him, her coat fluttering behind her as she landed effortlessly, standing tall, hands on her hips, radiating triumph.

But what truly made Brant’s stomach drop in sheer horror—

Was what she held in her hand.

A goblet.

Filled to the brim.

With orange juice.

Brant gasped. Loudly.

The Troupe gasped.

Someone in the back even let out a strangled, “No!” as if witnessing a crime against humanity.

Y/N lifted the goblet high above her head, letting the golden liquid catch the firelight.

“Fear not, dear comrades!” she proclaimed, her voice carrying through the cavern like a queen addressing her court. “For though wine may forsake us in our hour of need, lo! We are not lost! For we have been blessed by the divine nectar of the heavens!”

Brant staggered back. His face twisted with betrayal. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Y/N grinned.

“Oh, but I would.”

The cavern fell silent.

Then—in one swift, fearless motion—Y/N downed the entire goblet.

Brant stumbled back, clutching his chest as if struck. His coat flared behind him, his pink eyes wide with utter devastation.

“TRAITOR!”

Y/N slammed the goblet down with a flourish, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. “I am no traitor, Brant! I am a visionary! While you drown in sorrow for your lost wine, I embrace the bright, sweet tang of destiny!”

The Troupe erupted into cheers, swept away by the sheer spectacle of it all.

Brant was reeling.

Not just from the act of defiance, but from the realization that she had completely stolen his moment. Outperformed him in his own element.

But Brant was never one to back down.

His mind worked fast. If this was how she wanted to play it—then he would ensure she never forgot who she was up against.

With a graceful flourish, he spun on his heel and pointed an accusing finger at her.

“Then let it be known!” he declared, voice booming, eyes gleaming with theatrical challenge. “This day marks the beginning of a rivalry most legendary! A duel not of swords, nor of wits, but of spirit and devotion! For I shall never yield my love for wine, and you—” he gestured dramatically toward her empty goblet “—you shall never forsake your beloved orange juice!”

Y/N grinned.

“So be it, Fool!”

The two stood there, locked in a silent, electrified stare-down. The cavern hummed with anticipation.

Then—Brant moved.

With a single, elegant motion, he swept Y/N into a deep, theatrical dip.

The crowd gasped.

Y/N blinked up at him.

Brant’s smirk curled at the edges, playful, teasing, deliciously smug. “Tell me, dearest rival—how does it feel to be completely at my mercy?”

For a fraction of a second, Y/N’s breath hitched.

But then—her eyes sparkled with mischief.

Before Brant could react, she shifted.

One swift movement.

A flick of her leg.

And suddenly—Brant was the one being dipped.

His arms flailed slightly as Y/N grinned down at him.

“Feels pretty good, actually.” She winked.

Brant burst out laughing.

The Troupe roared in delight.

And just like that—a legend was born.

The saga of the Wine Fool and the Orange Juice Enthusiast.

The cheers of the Troupe still echoed through the cavern as Brant found himself in a position he had never been in before.

Dipped.

By her.

Y/N held him effortlessly, her grip firm yet playful, her expression smug as she gazed down at him. The warm glow of the lanterns reflected in her eyes, and Brant—despite himself—felt his heart stutter at the sight.

No, no, no. This will not do.

Brant was a man of theatrics. He did not lose in a battle of wit, charm, or flair.

And so, as quickly as he had been bested, he retaliated.

With grace befitting a master of the stage, he let his body go slack in Y/N’s hold, fluttering his lashes dramatically.

“Alas!” he cried out, his voice thick with over-the-top despair. “My greatest rival has struck a devastating blow! Oh, what cruel fate, to be so thoroughly bested by such a dazzling, daring, devilishly charming—”

Y/N immediately dropped him.

Brant hit the wooden floor with a thud.

The Troupe erupted into laughter.

From his undignified heap on the ground, Brant groaned loudly and rolled onto his back, flinging an arm over his eyes. “Ah, the betrayal! The humiliation! To be discarded like a mere prop, as if I were nothing more than—”

A goblet was set down beside him.

Brant peeked through his fingers.

It was filled with orange juice.

He shot upright, scandalized. “How dare you.”

Y/N crouched beside him, resting her chin on one hand, eyes gleaming with amusement. “I thought you might be thirsty.”

Brant narrowed his pink eyes. “I would rather perish.”

“Dramatic.” She snickered. “You know, for someone who acts like they have the most refined taste in Solaris 3, you’re awfully stubborn about expanding your palate.”

Brant scoffed, flipping his coat with a flourish. “Wine is the drink of passion! Of artistry! Of poets and lovers alike!” He gestured wildly toward the goblet. “That? That is the breakfast beverage of the common man!”

Y/N smirked. “So you’re afraid to drink it.”

Brant froze.

The Troupe fell silent.

The air shifted.

A challenge.

His rival had just dared him.

Well.

Brant never backed down from a challenge.

With deadly seriousness, he reached for the goblet, lifting it as if it contained the secrets of the universe itself. The cavern held its breath.

And then—

Brant took a single sip.

The reaction was instantaneous.

His entire face twisted in horror. His body convulsed as if he had been struck. His head snapped back so dramatically that one of the Troupe members in the back gasped, “He’s dead.”

Brant fell onto his back once more, gripping his chest. “The acidity! The sheer, unrelenting citrus! Oh, heavens above, take me now!”

Y/N sat beside him, utterly unbothered, sipping from her own goblet. “Oh, please. You’re fine.”

Brant flopped an arm over her lap, looking up at her with betrayal. “If this is what you consume by choice, you are a creature more fearsome than I could have ever imagined.”

Y/N merely took another sip. “Guess that makes me the superior Fool.”

Brant gasped so loudly that someone in the back coughed.

The next moment, he leapt to his feet, pointing a dramatic finger at her. “Then it is war.”

Y/N smirked. “What, afraid of a little competition?”

Brant grinned. “Darling, I live for competition.”

The cavern erupted into cheers once more.

The Duel of Fools had begun.

[nell0-0]

I forgot if I added the anon thing, but yeah, I will take all the fic recs I can get from you about L.U, or just Mask being Fierce's favorite kid (Which IS SO VALID!!! He's son shaped! I just know Fierce would burst into tears seeing how grown his son is :( - Fierce Anon

You didn't add it so I'll only answer this ask since it's about the same thing.

So! Fic recs! I'm only gonna share 10 fics for now but I hope you like them ^^

• Dissatisfaction by Sinnatious

Time wears the mask, and is consumed by the Fierce Deity. The rest of them try to cope with the overpowered stranger in their midst. Linked Universe fic.

• Dwell Not in the Past by nowheretogobutdown

Time knows well of the split in time he had caused, the branching paths of his legacy. The world flooded with water or twilight, his successors in the sailor hero and the humble farmer.

He used to have no idea of the third.

• They Grow Up So Fast by LettersByTheLake

"The man with the scar through his eye is instantly familiar to Warriors.

There is no doubt in his mind that he is the same as the child he once called ‘Little Brother.’"

A look at Warriors' and Time's relationship across two separate time frames.

• About Trust And Honesty by meefling

They could hardly hear each other’s voices over the roaring rain and thunder, but it seemed they shared a single-minded goal of getting the hell out of the weather they’d found themselves trapped in. The bright lightning illuminated their bodies every few moments, followed by closer and closer claps of thunder.

Until…

Well, maybe it wasn't such a good idea to travel in the middle of a thunderstorm.

AKA The One Where Two Dissimilar Links Swap Bodies And Try To Hide It From The Others

• The Woods Lost to Time by Iffondrel

The younger heroes of the chain have been split from the others during a portal shift and now find themselves in an unfamiliar forest. No doubt, it's the Lost Woods, but nobody knows who's era it is or why they ended up here. Not only that, but there's a hero they've never seen before: a Link with a fairy companion and the Master Sword on his back. Something about him is familiar, but he acts strange. With none of the adults around, he's their only guidance. But there's a darkness in the forest, and this new Link is oddly tight-lipped about it. What secrets is this hero hiding, and what needs to be done before they can reunite with the others?

• Lettuce Heart by rebornofstars

“We're looking for the Hero of Time,” the kid says. The words have a funny intonation, like it's a title he's used to talking about in a different, more formal context.

Link stops walking.

“The Hero of Time is dead,” he says evenly.

Time has never liked haircuts.

• Roots by Gintrinsic

Twilight blinked, clinging tenaciously to consciousness, and was disturbed by the way color seemed to leech from his surroundings—swathes of greens, blues, and twilit golds spilling away like sand through an hourglass. He blinked, imagining he could still feel the metallic slide of the Iron Knuckle’s battle axe, the buttery-smooth way with which it parted his skin. He blinked… and was overtaken by a gray shroud.

Fog thickened the air, a wispy, humid cascade that swelled from the ground like sweat from a waking beast. Twilight startled upright and drew his sword, gritting his teeth in anticipation of pain, but none came. After waiting several tense seconds to make sure he wasn’t about to be attacked, he glanced down and saw that his tunic was intact. Slipping his waist guard aside and lifting his undershirt revealed healthy skin.

Yet the words drifted by once more—an echo dissipating as it stretched. His wound isn’t healing.

• Tear Streaked by RosemaryRiddle

"How many times is this?" Wild asks, giving him a small smile as a greeting.

Time sighs. "The last one."

"And how many times have you said that to me?"

It’s said matter-of-factly, not overconfidently, and Time hates that Wild knows that it’s not his first, second or even third reset.

And to think all Time's current problems would be solved if Wild just got out of his way.

A.K.A. Unstoppable force meets immovable object.

Or the Sans boss fight but the only stake is Time's sanity. And maybe his life. But mostly his sanity.

• A Glitch in Time by pelicanpig

Time is no stranger to moving through the course of his namesake. He has meddled with the flow of time often enough that he should have expected something like this to happen at some point. Still, when he finds himself face-to-face with a much younger, much less scarred version of the champion, he is taken a little by surprise.

• let me lose on losing dogs by Anonymous

Monsters’ bodies are slow to fade into smoke, sometimes. Especially when there are so many in such a small area. But the littering of monster corpses across the battlefield does not disguise the sheer amount of Hylian bodies. Nor does it distract from the oppressive presence of the figure standing in the middle of it.

It stands over seven feet tall. Its armour shines under an invisible sun, gleaming brighter than should be possible – like it's not quite on this plane of existence. The large helix sword is idly resting in one hand; it weighs nothing in the warrior’s grip. Even with its back turned to him, Link feels as though its eyes are on him, weighing down upon his shoulders, a condemnation. A judgement.

And then it turns to meet his gaze, and that sick mockery of his kid’s face is staring back at him.

----

Obligatory Fierce Deity angst fic

[chanafehs]

BREAKS INTO YOUR HOUSE

1, 4, 13 and 20 for Asma and Cullen PWEAASEE

YOU BULLIED ME INTO THIS. but I will do it. for you. Answered number one here so I will do the rest

4. Have they ever been forced apart due to circumstance? How did they handle the difference?

I think every Cullenmancer has some headcanon about the Inquisitor leaving Cullen at Skyhold while he waits for them to come back to him. Such is the life in picking an advisor instead of a companion to romance. In the main game, I would say that they write each other letters frequently. They both have two versions of reports they send, one strictly professionally and the other personal. Cullen copes with being apart by spending some time in her quarters and taking his reports there, he explained it as if he's there he can just imagine her somewhere else in the fortress or getting some air right outside on the balcony. She feels less distant when he is surrounded by things that remind him of her. As for Asma, she is both in denial about missing him while also suffering from missing him. Her usual party is Sera, Vivienne, and Cassandra so they've learned by now that when she's sulking or irritable, it's because she's away from Cullen. Won't admit it though. She deals with it by putting his letters under her pillow or thumbing his lucky coin from where it dangles at her neck. I think you already know my many aus where something terrible happens and they're forced apart after the game and fight to get back to each other, but I think I've accepted it as canon that there are times that Asma has to stay behind at the Clan or Cullen is needed in Ferelden for the Templar Sanctuary. Under her nose, he commissioned a small locket with her face so whenever he is feeling particularly lonely without her (every day) he can just pull it out of his pocket to stare at. Asma isn't much better but she keeps all of Cullen's letters to reread and flip through when she misses him (every day). What losers.

13. How do they comfort or reassure one another?

Asma has a thing where she can't look people in the eye when she is feeling particularly vulnerable or upset, it's a bit too much for her, even with Cullen, so they've worked around it by Asma having her head in his lap or facing away from him with their backs pressed together whenever she needs comfort. Cullen doesn't push and Asma is grateful for it. Cullen likes the silence but with her company. Things get very loud in his head and sometimes he gets out of bed in the middle of the night to sit outside and ground himself in the moment. Asma will accompany him and hold him tightly to reassure him she is there and what he is feeling is real.

20. Is there a sentimental object they associate with their partner? What is it? Was it a gift?

The easy answer here is Cullen's coin but I refuse to take the easy way out so I will say that when Asma and Cullen's relationship got serious, she gave him the dagger that her father had passed down to her. Cullen insisted he couldn't take it and that it meant too much to her for him to have it but he finally relented when it was clear she was not budging. It's probably he fanciest thing he owns and the hilt is inset with precious gems and swirling gold. It stands out a lot whenever he's packing his things. Asma likes knowing that he has something of hers on his person and that it can protect him if he needs it. His luck will protect her but her blade will protect him so on and so forth.

THERE. I hope you are happy with these losers!!!

[creations-of-the-dreamlight]

The No Hope Kids

Art by @trashtellar. this is just a placeholder until I make my own art. Dm if want removed.

Info Under the Cut

Link to Mei and Riley beta designs (link)

Tw! It’s a bad ending au! The endings are bad. Be advised

There is a fic in the works! It may just be a fic describing the first scene, but there will be a fic!

Shout out to others I found who posted stuff w/ hope kids!! : ofc the wonderful @/trashtellar as seen above. @/futurealchemy , @/adamari2001 , @/cryptid-moone , @/rawr1ty , @/digitalzealot2

First let me talk about the Hope Kids

Hope Kids is a fandom I believe popped up on Tik Tok sometime early 2024. It is a crossover- similar to Rise of the Brave Tangled Dragons or the Futuristic Four- featuring Mei Mei (Turning Red), Miguel (Coco), Hiro (Big Hero 6), Luca and Alberto (Luca), and Riley (Inside Out). It gained a quick spike in popularity when Inside Out 2 emerged, and from my awareness it has since kind of faded out of existence. Another thing to note is the fandom seems... almost exclusive to Tik Tok? There are people on other platforms who post about it but they are few and far in between. As someone who doesn't have Tik Tok I have had a hard time finding fellow enjoyers. Now- What is No Hope Kids?

No Hope Kids is a Hope Kids au inspired by another famous crossover au I was briefly into as a kid- Bad End Friends. I feel like Bad End Friends needs no introduction, but I will give if needed. No Hope Kids Follows Mei Mei, Riley, Miguel and Hiro as they travel across dimensional rifts in twisted versions of popular media. It will primarily focus on the main four- however I have ideas to include several other popular media (So far I plan on including Nimona, Gravity Falls, The Owl House, and Encanto).

It is a Meiley and Hiruel heavy- and because I'm trans and I said so Hiro is ftm trans.

Miguel is made dead by a group of beings known as the Balance Keepers. He is trapped in an endless land of death and the memory of him is destroyed. He wanders for a long time with his companion, Dante, trying to find a new purpose in this barren land. Eventually he starts to get into more and more otherworldly crimes. He becomes a balance breaker, and is once again on the run from the Balance Keepers. After meeting a strange old pastor in a bar, he is gifted a scythe that can cut through dimensions.

Hiro gets trapped within the In Between realm after saving Abigail. He floats in the timeless realm for what seems like thousands of years. He doesn’t age, but he deteriorates. Baymax does everything he can to save him. The only way to keep him alive was to fuse him with the electronics around him. His flesh and organs were melded into his suit, and powered by the ship that Abigail was once trapped in. But it’s simply not enough. Eventually, a new portal deep in the In Between opens up. Baymax sacrifices the rest of his power to send Hiro through the portal.

Riley was on the bus to her first big game. It was the multi school meet (if you haven’t seen my other post I know Jack about sports and hockey so just pretend this makes sense). During the ride there is an earthquake. A giant rift full of light rips through the Earth- right in front of Riley’s Bus. They plummet into the rift, most everyone on the bus succumbing to fate. All except Riley. Somehow, the magic within the rift latched onto her, saving her life, but at a cost.

Mei, after a ritual gone wrong, watches her mother die in a destroyed spirit realm. She is transformed into a painful, were-panda esque creature. One with an insatiable blood lust. Once she comes back from the ritual, three portals opens in the sky, something descending from each: A bus, a spaceship, and… a skeleton.

Mei and the gang escape. Miguel inevitably uses the scythe again, and they become a gang of multiverse-traveling, mayhem-havocing Balance Breakers.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hallo! :D

Could you write a story where the Reader was Donna's only friend during their childhood, always there to protect her from bullies? Like, whenever someone tried to make fun of Donna, the Reader would step in and start threatening those jerks and stuff like that.

But then, when Donna became a lord, she lost the Reader, and all she could think about was how the Reader would’ve comforted her during those tough times. Even though she missed them, Donna doesn’t try to get the Reader back because she’s still figuring out her powers and is scared of accidentally hurting them.

Fast forward a few years, and the Reader decides to reach out to Donna. They enter her territory and find Donna sitting on that old bench where they used to hang out and chat as kids. They start talking again, and their meetups become more frequent. But every time the Reader leaves, Donna feels this pain; she wants them to stay and make sure they’ll never leave her again.

Finally, Donna opens up about how she feels, and it leads to a sweet moment where they kiss and share all those cute feelings! 🤭

Thank youuu:) xx

Yesss!!!! Thank you for your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :)))))

Nothing ever changes

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, Donna being Donna

Word count: 7,965

Summary: She was your friend, you promised you'd protect her...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

“N-No... (Y/N), I don't think it's a good idea,” the young girl next to you, your best friend for as long as you can remember, Donna Beneviento, said.

“Why? Come on, Donna, there's a lot to do in the village, we'll have a good time,” you insisted when her feet sank into the snow and her face hardened.

“No, I can't,” she replied with a broken voice, hugging her most faithful companion, the doll her father made for her.

“Are you scared?” you asked innocently, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Your friend shook her head, but held the doll tighter.

“Mamma says there are bad people in the village, people who want to hurt me,” the brunette girl explained. “The people in this village don't like me.”

“Nonsense, it's just that they're jealous of you,” you said, still smiling, taking her hand and forcing her to keep walking. “You know, you live in a very big house, you have a lot of money...”

“That's not...” Donna began, remaining silent for a few seconds. “That doesn't matter to them, (Y/N), all they see when they look at me is... this,” she murmured in an almost imperceptible tone, pointing at her face.

“Oh,” you sighed sadly, looking at your friend's lifeless eye and the scar surrounding it. “I don't think it matters,” you said afterward, with a look of pity. “Besides, I'm with you, and so is Angie, we'll protect you.”

Your friend's gaze slowly lifted, showing a bit of light, a bit of hope.

“Davvero?” she asked with a sigh, bringing her wrist closer to her chest. “Will you protect me?”

“You're my best friend,” you affirmed, jumping in the snow as you moved her weak hand, finally making the young Beneviento girl surrender and walk beside you.

The year was 1981, although in that remote Romanian village, time seemed to stand still. You were an ordinary villager, the daughter of a family of cabinetmakers who, while hardly comparable to the nobility of that place, were close enough to being an important one.

Your father worked with wood, offering his services to anyone who requested them. Such delicate and necessary work didn’t go unnoticed, and granted him certain privileges that made your lives easier.

Among his many clients was the mysterious lady of the castle, Alcina Dimitrescu, one of the Three Lords who, along with the messenger of the Gods, Mother Miranda, and her siblings, served as guides and protection for mere mortals like you.

But these important people weren't the only ones who needed a cabinetmaker. One of your father's best clients was the patriarch of an ancient noble family that lived in a somewhat remote place: Giuseppe Beneviento.

The Beneviento family had noble blood, or so you were told. Apparently, they had dedicated themselves for centuries to the art of making dolls and toys for the village children, although sometimes you heard rumors of some kind of curse that had fallen upon that ancient family.

You never cared much, because the Beneviento family had a daughter, a girl only three years older than you, whom you met when you were very, very young: Donna Beneviento.

You always accompanied your father when he did business; he said your innocent face helped him make better deals, and you loved seeing new places and meeting new people.

So, the dollmakers’ daughter began to be a very special playmate, and over time, she became your best friend.

Donna was a mentally ill child who didn't usually communicate with other people, with anyone other than you, or her parents. But a shyness bordering on mental illness wasn't the worst of her problems. Some time ago, Donna told you about the scar that crossed her right eye, rendering it useless.

According to her, when young Beneviento was just a baby, she cried excessively, disturbing the peace of the old waterfall mansion and the equally wounded mind of the family matriarch.

One day, Donatella Beneviento, tried to silence her daughter's desperate cries by rudely stabbing her in the eye with scissors, leaving her permanently wounded.

The scar left behind as a result of her mother’s illness became her worst complex.

The children laughed at her, mocked her for her appearance, and it made her even more withdrawn. Her only form of communication with the world was the doll her father had given her, Angie.

But that changed when you were with her. With you, she did talk, she expressed her feelings, played, laughed... She was your best friend, the best you'd ever had, and you loved spending time with her.

Donna was a sensitive girl, but tremendously intelligent. You could spend hours listening to the stories she told, the lessons her parents gave her, learning Italian… As a thank you for taking care of her, her father even gave you another doll, because, at least with you, she could speak for herself.

You were nine, she was twelve, and despite the difference, you were inseparable, you thought you’ll be forever.

“See? It's okay,” you said with a smile, holding your friend's hand as you walked through the village.

“(Y/N), no... I'm not feeling well, can we go back home?” Donna asked, looking everywhere.

“Are you sick?”

“I don't like it here, io...” she murmured, lowering her voice and hiding her face behind the porcelain doll. “(Y/N), ho paura.”

“Does that mean you're scared?” you asked, stopping walking to face her, trying to calm her down.

She nodded with a sniffle, making you regret your attempt, rubbing her arm comfortingly.

“Okay, we'll play on your grounds,” you said, a little disappointed, but prioritizing Donna's well-being.

A dull thud followed by a surprised gasp interrupted your return. A ball of mud landed on your friend's face, knocking her to the ground.

“I got her! I got the weirdo!” a boy about your age exclaimed, laughing behind some bushes with some friends.

“Donna, are you okay?” you asked, helping your friend up. The poor girl couldn't stop shaking and couldn't utter any comprehensible words. “Hey, that was mean!” you accused them.

“Oh, the weirdo's friend,” mocked a girl following the bullies, still giggling. “Weirdo!”

“Hey, stop it! It's not right to laugh at others!” you shrieked angrily, standing in front of your friend with a face that was meant to be threatening.

“That's what weirdos are for, to laugh at them,” explained a boy, rolling another ball of mud. “Hey, look at me, weirdo!”

Donna was unable to calm down, and a mud-stained tear began to flow from her good eye.

“One-eyed Beneviento, one-eyed Beneviento!” the children mocked, pointing at the humiliated girl.

“Enough!” you shouted, angrily clenching your fists and running toward them, throwing yourself at a disgusting girl. “You like mud? Then mud you'll have!” you shrieked, struggling with the girl and burying her face in a puddle before the astonished gaze of her friends.

“Stop, stop!” the bully protested, unable to escape your grasp. “You'll pay for this!”

“You don't scare me, Hanna!” you shrieked, struggling against her friends, who came to her aid. “Don't mess with my friend!”

“Oh, her friend,” one of them mocked, managing to pull you away from the girl while you kicked. “Friend of the freak!”

You growled furiously, managing to kick the kid, causing him to let you go with a cry of pain as he doubled over.

“Damn it...” he protested, trying to hit you back, but you were faster, grabbing his arm and sinking your teeth into it. “Hey, she bit me!” he yelled, gesturing to his friends.

“Come on, let's go...” the mud-stained girl said. “It's not worth it.”

“Yeah, run! You're evil!” you yelled as the bullies ran off, glancing at your friend, who was kneeling on the ground. “Donna.”

“Sono un mostro, un mostro...” the brunette babbled, holding her head tightly and fidgeting.

“Donna, don't do that,” you said, unable to control her crisis, fleeing from her nervous swatting. “Donna, stop…”

You were a little girl, and although it wasn't the first time you'd seen your friend in that condition, a pang of pain ran through your chest, along with a wave of guilt. With your abilities diminished by your age and your lack of understanding of what was happening to your sick friend, all you could do was kneel beside her and hold her, hold her tight.

The sobs continued for a while, but eventually your comforting embrace worked, calming poor Donna's madness.

“Come on... let's get you cleaned up, okay?” you said, helping her to her feet, putting your arm around her as you walked back to her grounds.

She nodded, sobbing weakly, slowly escorting you to the riverbank, where you began to remove the mud from her face.

“I'm sorry, it was my fault,” you said, your gaze downcast, unable to look at her face.

“Mamma will be angry... I stained her dress,” Donna said, distracted but letting herself be taken care of.

“That's not fair,” you commented, finishing cleaning up the dirt.

“She says I'm a disgrace to the family,” she explained, making you frown.

“What's a disgrace?”

“Something bad,” Donna replied, looking away and picking up her now-clean Angie doll. “(Y/N), I... gr-grazie... for protecting me,” she said in a sad tone, as you returned to your favorite play spot, an old stone bench.

“You're my best friend, Donna, I'll always protect you,” you said, confident in your words as you sat down next to her.

“Really? Will you always protect me?” the brunette asked, hugging her doll, shedding a tear on the porcelain.

“Always,” you affirmed, rubbing her back. “Come on, let's play. Judy must have gotten tired of waiting for us,” you said next, searching for your doll. “She was grounded for teasing Angie.”

It wasn't the last incident.

Luckily, you were always there to protect your friend from the other children's bullying, always looking out for her, as you promised. You were convinced nothing would separate you.

As the years passed, there weren't too many changes in your afternoons of chatting and playing. Time was a cruel element, and it began to affect your thoughts, your body... When you reached adolescence, things started to look different.

Unlike Donna, who had lessons at home, you attended the village school, and although you hated your classmates for laugh at your friend, age began to change that.

Like any teenager, you began to let the past go and meet up with them to stroll around the village, get into mischief, and forget about your old doll, as well as your old friend Donna. She never left her grounds despite her maturity, and yes, you would visit her every day, or almost every day.

It pained you to admit it, but sitting next to her on that stone bench became less and less common.

Things didn't improve as the years passed, and in 1987, everything changed, everything changed with Donna.

“Okay, it's been fun, but I have to go.” you said, getting up from the ground and dusting off your dress.

“Are you going to see your weirdo friend? Stop wasting time, (Y/N),” your friend Hanna said, her tone dismissive.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, sighing, annoyed at having to abandon that funny afternoon.

“Leave her alone,” you muttered. “Hey, don't do anything funny without me!” you shouted as you waved goodbye, heading back into the lush forest.

In the distance, on your usual bench, was that black figure, Donna, waiting silently next to her doll.

You were already 15, she was 17, about to come of age, but even so, she never abandoned her doll, never let it be consumed by dust, like yours had been.

“Hey, Donna,” you said with a smile, giving your friend a quick hug, who smiled warmly, clinging to your body.

“You... it took you a while,” she commented, slowly pulling away.

Of course, she changed too. She became a truly beautiful young woman despite her flaw, and... well, you'd thought for some time that she really was the most beautiful girl you knew.

In fact, you'd been pretty clear that men weren't your thing, after several failed teenage romances, and... somehow, the connection, the bond between you and Donna, grew a little different, a little more... warm.

“Sorry,” you apologized as you sat down next to her, keeping her hand in yours. “I got a little distracted.”

She sighed, nodding and slowly looking away, disappointment visible on her face, and something else you couldn't quite make out.

“You good, Donna?” you asked gently, moving closer to her. “You don't look well.”

“I've never do,” she murmured with a sad smile. “But you're right. Things aren't going well, (Y/N).”

“Mm,” you murmured, rubbing her back lovingly and holding her soft hand again. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“My mom is handling the pregnancy really badly,” she began.

Of course, you already knew Donna was expecting a little sibling soon, but that wasn't necessarily a good thing, not with her mother's craziness.

“Oh,” you commented. “Did she hit you again?”

“No,” she denied, making a strange face. “But her madness is worse than ever... Father says she shouldn't drink alcohol, but... (Y/N), I fear for my brother or sister's life... I don't want the same thing to happen to it.”

“W-Well, I don't know much about that... but at least you're here to protect it, right?” you said with a confident smile, thinking, unintentionally, about how much fun you were having with your friends, and how sad the visits to Donna usually were.

“Just like you're always here to protect me, aren't you?” she sighed with a discreet smile, a faint blush on her cheeks.

“Yes, that's it,” you affirmed, glancing sideways at the doll she was holding and frowning. Young Beneviento was definitely too old for dolls, and that seemed... strange to you.

“I guess you're right,” she said with a weak voice, looking into your eyes. “I'm sorry, (Y/N), you'd probably rather be with your friends than listen to my misery.”

“No,” you lied exaggeratedly. “No, no, Donna, don't say that… I like being with you, you're my best friend. But, hey… you should, I don't know, get some fun out of here. Do you feel like coming to the reservoir tonight? We're going to have a bonfire, it'll be fun.”

“I can't,” Donna denied, as she always did when you suggested hanging out with your friends.

“Are you sure? I think Hanna Petrescu was going to steal beers from her parents and…”

“Hanna? (Y/N)… why…?” the brunette interrupted, with a nasty look on her face. “Why are you hanging out with her? Don't you remember what she did to me?”

“Yeah, well…” you said nervously, looking away. “But she's changed, really, she's not like she used to be.”

“No, (Y/N), those people never change, nothing ever changes,” Donna told you, her tone serious, her gaze darker.

“Uh, that's not true,” you sighed, swinging your legs onto the stone bench. “Come on, you'll have fun, we'll tell scary stories, we'll play spin the bottle...”

“Spin the bottle? What's that?” the young Beneviento asked with a curious look.

You laughed mischievously, lifting your legs onto the bench and crossing them to sound more confident.

“It's a really funny game, you began. They put a bottle on the ground, we stand around it, and spin it.”

“What's so funny about that? I don't get it,” your friend said, her expression innocent.

“Oh, that's the best part,” you said, lowering your voice. “When the bottle stops, the people it's pointing at have to kiss.”

“U-Un bacio?” Donna asked, pulling away slightly with a look of disgust. “Why a kiss?”

You shrugged and laughed playfully.

“That's the way it is,” you said, shaking your head.

“I-I don't understand,” she murmured, pulling away slightly. “Why is kissing funny? That's not... that's not right.”

“Why not?”

“A kiss isn't just given to anyone for a stupid game; it's a declaration of love, it's serious, (Y/N),” Donna explained, showing her complete rejection of your teenage playfulness.

“Oh, that's nonsense,” you said, dismissing it with a wave of your hand. “It's 1987, don't be so old-fashioned.”

“Old-fashioned?” she said, offended, shaking her head.

“It doesn't mean anything, Donna, it's just a game, look,” you said, trying to escape the tense situation in the worst possible way, approaching your friend and stealing a kiss on the lips that left her with her eyes wide open. “See? It's nothing.”

“Why did you do that?!” the young woman shrieked, getting up from the bench in annoyance and placing a hand on her desecrated lips.

“Oh, come on, did it bother you? I wanted to show you it doesn't mean anything,” you said, standing up as well and placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Maybe not to you,” the brunette murmured, crossing her arms with a confused look, caressing her lips.

“What do you mean?” you asked cautiously, looking at your friend's face, feeling something stir inside you, something that had been created inside you after that silly kiss. “Donna, hey, don't take it so seriously, okay?”

“Take this seriously? Y-You kissed me, (Y/N),” she protested, pacing erratically.

“It was a joke...” you began in a calmer, apologetic tone.

“Of course, it doesn't mean anything to you,” she hissed, clenching her fists on either side of her hips. Her gaze was as cold as ice, her eyes reflecting darkness. “Is that it, vero? I don't mean anything to you.”

“What? Come on, Donna, don't be like that, you know that's not true,” you said somewhat nervously, biting the lips that kissed her, and that seemed to demand something more. “You're my best friend.”

“Am I? I thought Hanna Petrescu was now,” she mocked in an ironic, hurtful tone.

“What are you talking about? Donna, relax, will you? You're losing your mind again, count to ten...”

“Stop treating me like I'm a child!” the young lady shrieked, making you back away. “Stop... stop pretending to care about me.”

“I care about you,” you sighed, placing a hand on her cheek. “Donna...”

“No... it's not true, I can see it in your eyes,” she said, sniffling and pushing your touch away from her skin. “You're only coming because you feel sorry for me. You'd rather be with them.”

“Stop talking nonsense, Donna. Anyone might think you're jealous of my friends,” you said in a haughty tone, adopting a cocky pose. “Besides, if you listened to me and came with us, you'd realize what...”

“Do you want me to leave the safety of my home to share glances and words with the people who hurt me when I was little? Is that what you want?” Donna accused you, with a disgusted look on her face.

“Maybe then you'd realize they've changed, and you'd stop sinking into this sinister place and making my life miserable with your sorrows,” you whispered back, instantly regretting it.

“I'm making your life miserable, aren't I?” she said, pain on her face, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Well... well then... go away.”

“Donna, wait, I didn't mean...” you said, grabbing her hand, a hand she jerked away. “Donna, you're my best friend, you always have been…”

“You're lying, and the worst part is that you know it,” the lady hissed, stamping her feet angrily. “N-No… I can't go on like this, I can't stand seeing you when you don't want to, and… maybe believing that… that you and I…”

“Yes?” you asked with an involuntary smile, moving a little closer. “You and I…?”

“Forget it, nothing I feel, nothing I do or say means anything to you, you've shown me that,” she finally said, moving away from your approach, leaving you petrified. “You have fun with them, don’t you? Then go with them.”

“Donna, no… you can't do this to me… I…” you said nervous and scared. Everything seemed to be going terribly wrong. “Hey, I want to be with you.”

“No, I can't stand it,” Donna said, relaxing her expression and wiping away her tears. “Please go…”

“Donna… w-wait a minute, no, you can’t just kick me out of your life,” you pleaded, regretting your actions, your words.

“I can,” she said firmly, pointing down the path that led to the village. “Go, (Y/N)… I never want to see you again.”

“What? No, Donna, wait.”

“Fuori! Fuori, fuori, fuori!" she yellled, frantically, causing you to run away from that place in fear.

That was the last time you saw her, at least for several years.

Losing Donna wasn't as simple as it seemed, as you wanted to believe. You were happy with your friends, but you felt like you were missing something; you missed her presence, her maturity, her always-on advice... They said you don't know what you have until you lose it, and it couldn't be more true.

Despite everything, your teenage life continued to change, blocking your own desire to return to your friend, your best friend, and resume those conversations, those laughs, to see her smile again...

But you didn't. Letting yourself be carried away by youth, you began to forget about Donna, leaving her as nothing but a memory. Yes, you knew about her life, you knew she'd had a little sister named Claudia, a cheerful girl and... well, apparently healthier than Donna herself.

Not wanting to reopen old wounds, you let her live her life, let her take care of her little sister as she promised she would, and let your lives separate completely. Until 1996.

That year wasn't good, it was terrible.

You were already 24, maturity was beginning to arrive in your life, and at just the right time, a horrible tragedy occurred, one Donna could never forget.

Little Claudia Beneviento, only 9 years old, contracted an incurable disease that caused her to die suddenly. Donna's sister, the one she swore to protect, had died, but things could always get worse.

After the death of her young daughter, Donatella Beneviento's madness drove her to commit an atrocious act: to end her life by throwing herself off the cliff next to the mansion. But she didn't do it alone. Giuseppe Beneviento, in a desperate attempt to save his wife, threw himself after her.

Donna was left completely alone, and that was something you couldn't, and didn't want to, ignore.

But despite your attempts to talk to her, to be with her during those terrible moments, you were unsuccessful. She didn't want to see you; she didn't even look at you at her family's funeral; she wouldn't open the door for you, or answer the phone.

You may not have realized it when it happened, but you began to understand that she meant what she said, that you would never be friends again.

Two years after the tragedy, in 1998, you decided to be brave, try one last time, and venture into the forest to give a chance to that special friendship that had united you, and that was broken because of you.

“Hey, Donna,” you said, knocking on the mansion door. “Come on, you can't still be mad at me after everything that's happened. I've... I've grown up and... and I want to apologize, keep you company, be with you like I promised I would. Please, Donna...”

“How loving...” a mysterious voice sounded as the door opened.

You stepped back, frightened by the presence before you, one you hadn't expected. The village's protector, the priestess sent by the Gods, Mother Miranda, came through the door with a satisfied look, analyzing your every gesture.

“Mother Miranda,” you said politely, bowing your head to the priestess, controlling the incipient trembling in your body.

“Mm, (Y/N), right? The cabinetmaker's daughter,” the blonde witch said, leaning against the door frame with a sense of grandeur, justifiably so, of course. “What a surprise to see you here.”

“Same, Mother Miranda,” you whispered discreetly, trying to look over her shoulders, trying to locate your friend. “I came to see Donna.”

“Donna, of course,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. “Oh, right... you were very close friends... I remember seeing you two playing behind the chapel.”

“Yes, ma'am,” you stated fearfully, earning a sinister chuckle from the priestess. “Please, I want to speak with her.”

“Um, I'm afraid Donna is... unwell right now, (Y/N), you'll have to come back later,” Miranda explained, making your concern grow.

“Is something wrong with Donna?” you asked, hopping pathetically around trying to get a glimpse of the inside of the house.

“Well, apart from being completely alone, losing her family, and having a serious mental illness... no, nothing's wrong with her,” the woman mocked, causing you to clench your fists tightly.

“I want to help her. I promised I would,” you said without thinking much. “She was my friend, and...”

"Oh, it's a shame she didn't have you all these years, isn't it?” she mocked again, a sickening darkness in her gaze. “Maybe I wouldn't be here if it had been that way.”

“Y-You have no right to accuse me, she kicked me out of her life,” you explained, unsure, probably because you were so scared of that horrible woman.

“Sure, and you were too busy to come back, right?” she rebuked you again, still smiling.

“I...” you stammered, finding some painful truth in her words. “That's not...”

“I'll give you some advice, little bird,” the woman began, putting her arm around your shoulders, walking down the front steps with you. “Forget about Donna. She's on... a different mission right now.”

“A mission? What have you done to Donna?” you asked, abruptly pulling away from the witch's grasp.

“Help her, my dear, and now if you'll excuse me, I’m busy,” she finally said, pushing you slightly and heading back into the mansion, slamming the door.

“What...? Donna!” you cried desperately. “Donna!”

“Miss (Y/N),” a voice behind you said, a voice that startled you.

When you turned around, you discovered it was Josef, the kind gardener of the Beneviento family. According to rumors, he was left to care for Donna when her family died.

“Mr. Simon,” you said, recovering from your shock. “Tell me, what's going on? What's she doing here?”

“Oh, great news, Miss (Y/N),” he said with a casual smile, escorting you back to the village. “Mother Miranda has taken pity on Mistress Donna, she's saved her.”

“Save her? From what?” you asked, stopping, demanding answers.

“Mistress Donna was... She wasn't well... and... she tried something horrible,” the man explained, leaving you breathless, realizing what he meant.

“Gods,” you sighed, running a hand over your forehead and looking at the elevator that went up to the mansion. “Donna…”

“But don't worry, Miss, Mistress Donna is very well cared for, and besides, I've heard she'll soon be named Lord of the village. It's just what our little Donna deserves, don't you think?”

“Lord? Donna?” you asked, confused. “Gods, is that true?”

“Time will tell, Miss (Y/N)…”

Josef wasn't wrong.

A few days after that strange encounter, there was a mass, but not just any mass, a special mass, to introduce the newest Lord, the fourth pillar that held the village together and kept it under the protection of the Gods: Donna Beneviento.

You remember seeing her at mass, you remember the strange black veil she wore on her face. That day, all your memories came back to haunt you, guilt stabbing at you like a knife. You were the one to blame, you had done that to her.

Now she was powerful, untouchable, and respected. You could feel a little relief at seeing that justice had finally been served, but that feeling was mixed with a touch of fear. You knew the other Lords, you knew what they were capable of.

You were never especially brave; you were only brave when you had to protect her from bullies, when you had to face her crises. In everything else, you were as cowardly as the rest of the villagers.

It was difficult to accept that Donna had changed, that she would never again be the shy little girl who played with you on that old bench, that she would never again be the beautiful young woman who gave you a strange flutter in your stomach.

You had lost her forever, although you never fully accepted it.

You tried to live your life, experiencing one heartbreak after another. No one seemed enough for you. Every time you dared to fall in love, you suffered disappointment. You felt an unpleasant emptiness that prevented you from giving yourself completely to another person.

Two years after that revelation, in 1998, something disturbing happened.

Josef Simon, the Beneviento family's loyal gardener, disappeared under mysterious circumstances. You refused to believe it, denied the truth behind the rumors that Donna had killed him.

The fear this new Lord inspired grew, and legends about her powers and the danger posed by entering her territory began to be evident to the villagers. On one hand, you felt a certain satisfaction seeing how the strange girl everyone mocked now had control of their lives. Now they owed her respect.

The new millennium arrived soon after, but in that place, it didn't mean much more than a different, new year. Everything seemed to remain the same in the village; life passed slowly, and your solitude began to feel comforting.

You were incapable of truly loving anyone; something was holding you back, a feeling you thought you'd forgotten, but at the same time, you couldn't stop feeling. You never tried to cross that forest again, to talk to Donna, to ask her questions, to apologize. The rumors in the village kept you from doing so, but… years later, in 2001, something changed.

“Let's see…” you murmured as you organized your stuff.

After your parents’ death, the business and the house were yours, and you had a lot of things to organize before continuing the family tradition.

“Oh, wow,” you said, taking your old Judy doll, the one Donna's father had given you, out of a chest. “Hi, Judy,” you said amusedly, dusting the old doll, causing something to fall off.

You picked it up slowly, turning it over and discovering an old photograph of two smiling girls hugging each other, Donna and you.

(Y/N) and Donna, 1985

Seeing that photograph awakened something you thought was dormant, a feeling of nostalgia and desire that made you swallow and look toward your window, toward the path that led to the Lord’s mansion.

You were 29 years old, no longer a child, nor a teenager, you were an adult with your whole life ahead of you, but... you felt you had to do something to fix the mistakes of your past, to recover what you longed for.

“Okay, I have to do this,” you said, leaving your house, wrapping yourself up and walking toward the wooden gate, toward your best friend's land.

Everything around you was completely different. The plants Josef lovingly tended had become wild, dominant. The landscape seemed abandoned, decayed, terribly sad and dark.

Despite the chills running through your body, you decided to continue toward the mansion, desperately hoping not to end up like the villagers who entered that place, never to return.

With a strong urge to flee, you kept walking, stopping when you reached that old stone bench so iconic to your childhood, the place where you talked, laughed, and were with Donna.

Your steps slowed as, on the cold stone, sat a black figure, a ghostly figure that couldn't be anyone else: Donna.

“I was hoping you'd come someday.” A hoarse voice emerged from the dark figure, and the black veil danced as it moved toward you.

“Donna?” you asked, slowly approaching the bench. “Gods, is that you?”

“Will you sit with me, (Y/N)?” the husky voice asked, placing a hand at her side as you obeyed, suspicious.

“Donna... it... it's been a long time,” you said nervously, sitting away from her, who simply nodded.

“An eternity,” she murmured.

“I... I feel terrible about what happened. I didn't mean...” you began, stammering, your voice not wanting to leave your throat. “Oh, Donna...” you sighed, throwing yourself into her arms, feeling a nostalgic euphoria that forced you to act unconsciously.

The lady in black didn't return the hug, but you could hear a sigh coming from the black veil as she gently pushed you away.

“I'm sorry, it was disrespectful. After all, you're a Lord now,” you murmured, embarrassed. “It's been a long time, Donna.”

“Mm,” she murmured disinterestedly, playing with her hands in her lap. “You're all grown up now.”

“Yeah, well,” you said, pretending to laugh and shaking your head. “Hey, I... I tried to tell you this many years ago, but... I'm so sorry about what happened to your family.”

“They abandoned me, they left me alone,” she grunted, clenching her fists, her voice the same nervous one you remembered, but perhaps a little more worn from disuse.

“Yeah, and me... me too,” you said, ducking your head, terribly embarrassed and uncomfortable. “You don't know how sorry I am, Donna. I never wanted to...”

“Taci”

You obeyed, remaining silent, a tense and charged silence that became unbearable.

“It... it was my fault,” you whispered cautiously, shaking your head and holding onto the bench for comfort. “That day, in '87, I behaved like a spoiled brat.”

“You mean the day you kissed me?” Donna asked, turning abruptly, but making it impossible for you to see her face.

“Yes, I... I shouldn't have done it,” you apologized, gradually lowering your voice. “I was young and stupid and... I tried to fix it, but... you, you didn't want anything to do with me.”

“That's not true,” she whispered in a tired voice, turning away from you. “I've never forgotten you, (Y/N).”

“Me neither,” you admitted, looking up at the cloudy sky. “I came to see you three years ago, to try to get back what we had, but... I found Mother Miranda, and Josef told me that...”

“Basta,” Donna said nervously, shaking her head. “Y-You said you'd always protect me.”

“I know, and I'm sorry... but hey, you were the one who didn't want to see me, you were always running away from me,” you said, annoyed by that spiteful comment. “I tried to make things right, Donna, I tried.”

“But you failed,” the lady rebuked you, slowly standing up.

“That's not... Ugh,” you protested, crossing your arms. “What could I do if my best friend didn't want to talk to me?”

“Your best friend?” she asked in a stern tone, accentuated by her intimidating presence.

“Yes, my best friend, you always were, Donna,” you defended yourself, sighing in frustration. “You said it yourself: Nothing ever changes.”

“Mm,” she murmured, looking away, turning her back on you. “I have changed.”

With a slow gesture, she brought her hand to the black veil, slowly parting it, allowing you to see her wounded face, a face marred by a horrible scar where her useless eye was supposed to be. Despite everything, the first thing that came to your mind after that discovery was one word: beautiful.

“Gods...” you sighed approaching and placing a hand on her cheek, caressing it despite her trembling. “She did this to you, didn't she?”

“My face isn't the only thing that's changed,” she said, pulling away abruptly. “There are many things that will never be the same as before, (Y/N).”

“I think you're still beautiful,” you sighed with a tender smile, filled with nostalgia, affection, and something else you hadn't felt in too long: those tickles in your stomach.

“And you're still a complacent brat,” Donna whispered, slowly raising her gaze, keeping yours silent.

With a simultaneous gasp, you both threw yourself into each other's arms in a tight embrace, accompanied by soft sobs. Donna's lavender scent flooded your senses, and you buried yourself in her shoulder, feeling her warmth, the warmth of something beautiful that had disappeared years ago, but seemed closer than ever.

“(Y/N)... mi sei mancata,” she whispered in your ear, hurting you with her grip, not wanting to let you go as she sobbed, just like you.

“I've missed you too,” you whispered back, with a tender smile, feeling too comfortable in her arms.

“You understood me... Y-You haven't forgotten,” the lady said, wiping away a tear and slowly pulling away from that intoxicating embrace.

“Of course I haven’t,” you said firmly. “I could never forget you, Donna. Tell me, if... if you missed me so much... Why didn't you come for me? I was so worried about you…”

“I didn't dare do it,” she said, sitting back down, taking your hand, guiding you. “After what happened, I… wanted to, I felt the need to get away from you.”

“I-I understand, but… what about these years? You're a Lord now, you… you have nothing to fear, and…"

“You're wrong, (Y/N), I'm afraid… afraid of myself,” she explained in a sadder voice, playing with the veil in her hands. “When… I changed, when I became… what I am now��� I couldn't control my powers. I wanted to call you, I wanted to run and beg you to come back to me, but I was afraid, (Y/N), I was terrified of hurting you.”

You nodded understandingly, placing a hand on her shoulder, but withdrawing it when you remembered something disturbing.

“You... your gardener, Josef... they say... they say...” you stammered, unsure of whether to talk about that subject.

“I killed him,” Donna confessed without much emotion, leaving you cold. “I don't regret doing it, I don't regret having... hurt people who wanted to attack me.”

“I... I-I don't know what to say, that's wrong, Donna,” you whispered, starting to get, honestly, scared.

“I know, but... I just... I've only hurt people who deserved it,” the lady said nervously, taking your hands again. “I would never hurt you, (Y/N), I've... I've spent a lot of time trying to control myself so... so I could be with you here, right now.”

“Donna, that's... a lot to process,” you confessed, pulling away. “You could have asked for my help, called me.”

“I didn't want to disturb you. You had your life and… Well, you're single now, but…”

“How do you know?” you asked curiously, exchanging fear for a mocking smile.

“I have my ways,” she said, winking at you. “Here we are now… I've been coming here every day for two years, dreaming of seeing you appear, like you always did.”

“Yes, the place where it all began, where a naughty little girl tried to steal your lollipop,” you said, reminiscing, looking at the old stone bench.

“I adored that naughty little girl,” she whispered with a nervous laugh, avoiding looking at you directly. “You were always my only friend, (Y/N).”

“Mm, always here, on this very bench,” you sighed, looking at the cracks that time had created in the decoration. “But… but it all ended here too, when… when I kissed you… I don't know what I was thinking… it was. It was a mistake.”

“It wasn't for me,” Donna said sharply, hardening her gaze, holding yours again, causing something to form between you, a pleasant feeling you hadn't felt since that time your lips brushed against hers.

You wanted to speak, to say something, to confess that deep down, it did mean something to you, but you could only open your mouth, closing it after a few seconds.

“It wasn't for me either, Donna, even though I insisted on believing otherwise,” you managed to say, making her sad gaze return to yours, but she looked away instantly. “Who am I kidding... it was all my fault, I... I had so many friends that... for a moment I thought I'd forgotten you, although in reality... I never really did.”

“Me neither,” the brunette whispered, both of you looking away again, staring at some nonexistent place. “You... your memories are what brought me where I am now, you know?”

“Hmm? Being a Lord?” you asked amused.

“No,” she laughed tenderly, shaking her head. “I remember crying and screaming because I was lonely. When I was having a breakdown, you... your memories were the only thing that calmed me. I imagined you were there, holding me, comforting me, telling me everything would be okay. You weren't by my side, but I could feel you, I could feel you protecting me.”

“I really could have, Donna,” you said in a serious tone, moving a little closer to her, to that addictive lavender scent.

“I guess I was always stubborn,” the lady sobbed, wiping away a tear. “When Mother Miranda adopted me, I... I really didn't... I didn't want to live,” she confessed, causing a sad sigh to pass through your lungs. “I believed the world would be better without me, that no one needed a crazy ventriloquist... I let my life slip through my fingers, closing my eyes, and then she arrived.”

“Mother Miranda,” you murmured. You were never her most devoted follower, of course.

“Mm,” Donna nodded, biting her lip. “I wanted to tell her to let me die so I could return to my family, to my little sister, but... but then... I thought... I thought of you, (Y/N),” she said, with a disconcerting look. “I remembered those moments in our lives when we weren't alone. I remembered your hugs, your protection...”

You smiled, shaking your head.

“(Y/N), I wanted to live. I accepted the gift from Mother Miranda and the Gods because... if I had died that day, I would never have been able to see you again. I wouldn't be here, seeing the beautiful woman you've become.”

“That's nice, Donna, you always were a romantic girl,” you joked, nudging her boldly.

“Not the way I would have liked,” she murmured in a very low voice.

“I-I should go,” you finally said, after another comfortable silence. “I'm glad to see you, Donna, but I have errands to do.”

“Un... un attimo, (Y/N),” she said, interrupting your departure for the village. “Will you come back someday?”

“Um... I...” You hesitated, but something drew you, something irresistible that made you smile sincerely and nod. “Of course, I'll see you again tomorrow.”

And so it was. Every day you crossed that dangerous territory to reunite with your old friend. The conversations were somewhat awkward at first. Donna Beneviento certainly wasn't the same for many reasons, but deep down, you still saw in her the sweet little girl who was afraid of everything.

Those visits became a pleasant routine that mutated into laughter, experiences, and memories. It became easier and easier to look at that beautiful woman and smile while doing so.

Months passed and everything continued wonderfully and harmoniously, until suddenly, the dollmaker's attitude changed.

Madness stalked her at very specific moments, when you had to leave. You could see the pain in her eye, the desperation that made her believe that if you left, you'd never return. You couldn't blame her for that; you, too, felt sad to be leaving her side.

“Hanna Petrescu?” you commented, amused, while sharing tea with Donna in her old mansion, one that time hadn't passed by. “She didn't do so well, to be honest. She got pregnant by Marius Doric at 16, and I think she's a family woman now.”

“Mm, it seems she didn't deserve to be happy,” Donna commented with a sinister smile, rejoicing in the bullie misfortune.

“You were right, Donna, she was an idiot,” you said, blowing on your teacup. “You were always right... It didn't go so well for me either, to be honest.”

“W-Well... you didn't get pregnant,” she commented innocently, pointing at your belly, clumsily trying to joke.

“No, of course,” you laughed, shaking your head in amusement. “But... even though I can't complain... I've never... well, I've never been truly happy, you know?”

“I don't understand,” Donna whispered, putting her cup down and blinking in confusion. “You deserved to be happy.”

“I'm not so sure,” you sighed, leaning back on the old couch. “I've spent my whole life searching for someone, a true love who would understand me, who would complete me, but look at me, 29 years old and I'm still single.”

“I-I find that hard to believe. You're beautiful,” she said, her voice timid, with a thick accent that betrayed her nervousness.

“Mm, I've always... I've always felt like something was missing, like a part of me I was looking for in other people,” you explained, beginning, with the time you spent with her, to understand what it was that you were missing, what you longed for so much.

“I'm sure... that you'll find it,” Donna said in a somewhat passive tone, looking away from you with a sigh. “I assure you, whoever dares to hurt you, will pay, (Y/N).”

“Oh, so now you're protecting me, huh?” you joked, making the lady in black smile and her cheeks blush slightly. “I like the idea, Donna, a change is nice.”

“(Y/N),” she murmured suddenly, taking your cup from your hands and placing it on the table. “Nothing ever changes. I-I've always felt you by my side, protecting me even when you weren't around. I... I've always... I've felt the same way about you.”

“Donna,” you sighed, leaning closer, letting her hands caress your face erratically. “I think I know what it is I'm missing.”

“What is it?” Donna asked in a whisper, briefly directing her gaze to your lips, her body trembling with nerves due to the closeness.

“I've always missed you,” you said, also looking at her lips, moving closer as if a strange force were pushing you, as if invisible hands were guiding your head towards her, slowly placing your lips on hers.

A sigh escaped her mouth as that kiss ran through your entire body, sending shivers through your limbs, a comfortable and pleasant burning in your stomach, in your chest.

A soft sound interrupted that kiss, as if your lips refused to separate completely. Your eyes were closed, your foreheads pressed together, your skin burning against each other.

“(Y/N),” the brunette whispered, without breaking contact, without opening her eye. “Please tell me this kiss meant something to you, that it wasn't some kind of game.”

“No, Donna, it was never a game to me,” you whispered back. “If there's one thing I regret in all these years, it's… not telling you the truth about that kiss, about what it meant to me, what it means right now… I was so young, and so stupid…”

“I was so in love with you,” she sighed, kissing you briefly again. “I still am, I always will be, (Y/N).”

“Nothing ever changes, does it?” you said, letting a tear form a salty taste in another, deeper kiss. “Maybe… maybe it's not too late to… to love each other, Donna.”

“No, it's not too late,” she denied, continuing to kiss you, slowly, enjoying the contact. “I can't bear to see you leave. I-I can't bear it, amore mio… Stay with me, I beg you…”

“I… I can't do it, Donna,” you said, making her face crumble instantly, held by a gentle caress of your fingers. “I couldn't leave you again, ever.”

The sadness, the fear turned into a radiant smile, followed by kisses, hugs, whispers, apologies, and a joy that fueled the fire burning inside you, and that you learned to ignore.

“Well, it's about time!” a shrill voice startled you, making you go completely pale.

“Yiaaah!” you squealed as you saw something crawling onto the couch, the Angie doll, Donna's old, inseparable doll that moved on its own. “What the…? Angie?”

“It's not just me who's changed, (Y/N),” Donna said, helping you up with a tender smile. “But don't worry, she'll protect you too.”

[we-were-beautiful]

Unraveled Ends Chapter 3

a/n: Hey look, it's a new chapter. So a little heads up this one is not beta read. I went through it several times, but I am admittedly not the best at beta reading my own work. So No Beta we die like men in this chapter. Still though all the love to my beta for this story she truly is amazing. All my photos for the moodboard/aesthetic come from pinterest. I apologize for any mistakes there was minimal editing done to it. Hope y’all enjoy  Shout out to @whisplion for inspiring this fic.

Summary: A tailor in the heart of Velaris finds herself mated to the two most powerful fae in Prythian. Unfortunately for her the mating bond only snapped for her, leaving her to question on how to move forward. Should she wait for her mates to feel the bond or should she go ahead and reject it and live with the gaping hole in her heart  

Poly!Feysand x Reader 

Warnings: Drinking. And a Drunken Feyre

WC:2.4k

“You want to break your mating bond?” His voice sounded almost sad. I can’t fathom a reason as to why though. The bond didn’t snap for them, so in theory, it shouldn’t have any bearing on  Rhysand and Feyre.

“It’s not so much as a want, Rhysand.” I pause trying to string together the correct words to explain my thoughts. “It’s more that I don’t think I can handle the heartbreak.”

“Why not just tell them.” His eyes search me over looking for some rationale behind my thinking.

“They already have their perfect happy ending, Rhysand. They’ve sealed their bond and started their own little family. Where would I fit in all of that?” I give him a sad smile. Some deep part of me wants to scream ‘Where would I fit in to you and Feyre’s perfect little family’ 

“I’ve already made my peace with it, Rhysand. I think it will probably be better for me to just break the bond myself rather than go mad from the rejection.” I try to give him a smile. 

At least with breaking the bond I would be able to function and provide for my sisters. No, I would just lose all sense of emotion from what I’ve read. But if they were to reject me I would go mad; lose all sense of self. Having to live my life with never quite feeling whole, always missing them. I would take wandering around emotionless than pining endlessly over people who didn’t want me.

“Please tell me that you will think about this, and not rush into anything.” The High Lord pleaded with me, eyes filled with emotions that I couldn’t quite discern.

“I promise. That's why I wanted to talk to my friends in Day. I know a few who have done research on the topic, and Helion said he could discuss the process with me.” If anyone would be able to break the bond it would be the spell cleaver himself.

“Ok, just please don’t rush into anything.” His face settled into a neutral expression with a sadness lingering in his eyes. 

I make quick work of getting his final adjustments before letting him get changed. A heavy weight settles in my chest after he leaves. I want to break down; let all my emotions out. To scream to The Mother at how unfair she was being. Beg to know what I had done to deserve this. To be mated to a pair that was already so happy without me. To beg, plead, and bargain for The Mother to dissolve the bond herself and spare me the consequences. I was a hard working female. I worked long hours to provide for my sisters; I do community service when I have the free time. I volunteer at Adelaide’s school. I’m a good person, and what do I get? A lifetime of suffering. Gods above I really only have two options. Face the rejection that is almost certainly coming or live out the rest of this immortal life stripped of emotions. It's not fair.  Right now all I want to do is cry myself to sleep, and deal with all these problems later. 

‘Go home,’ the shadows whisper, nudging me towards the door ‘you worked too long on too little.’ 

Ever my constant companions. At least I knew that with the shadows I would never truly be alone.  I pen a quick note to Genevieve to pick up Addy and some food. I just wanted to go home and curl up in my bed. I pray that Rhys and Feyre will give me some reprieve tonight.

Days pass by quickly and before I know it a month has passed. I had managed to avoid Rhysand and Feyre as well as their friends for the most part. I changed my schedules based on their appointments. If Feyre was scheduled to have a fitting, I would make myself scarce.  If Cassian and Nesta came in to pick up their outfits, I was just on my way out. I couldn’t avoid Amren though she showed up unexpectedly to grab her outfit while I was working. Luckily for me the tiny fae women could care less about me avoiding their group. I provided good work, and that is what she wanted and cared about. 

My trip to the day court was planned for later this week. I was picking up a shipment of the stunning white linen that the Day court had been known for. While the pure white itself was stunning; the fabric also took in dyes beautifully, and I was hoping to create some wonderful summer sets out of it. I had also been corresponding with Helion about when I could get an audience with him to discuss my issue. I think that this particular conversation might be the deal breaker for me. 

Minnie, one of my seamstresses, had begged me to go out to Rita's with her tonight. I only relented after a few days of her nagging me. We had gotten ready at the shop before walking over to the beloved bar. Three drinks later, I have let loose for the evening; the alcohol easing the tension in my body and lowered my inhibitions. Minnie and I ended up on the dance floor before we knew it. I let the music flow through me. In another life I might have been a dancer or a musician. I loved the freedom that dancing gave me, but I refrained from coming out to the clubs. I had sisters to take care of, and partying wasn’t being responsible.  

“Sweetheart!” A familiar voice comes from behind me. I whip around to see Feyre standing there with a goofy smile. 

“Dance with me.” Her voice is slightly slurred as she drapes her arms around my shoulders. She's tipsy at best, shitfaced at worst.  

Sober me would have said no would. Sober me would have taken her back to Rhysand, and let him take care of her. But right now with most of my guard down, I can’t deny her. The selfish part of me wanted to soak up this moment, and just pretend that she was mine even if it was for a bit. So I dance with her. I move my body along with hers to the beat of the music. I pretended just for now, for this song, that they were mine. That somewhere Rhys was watching us with that seductive smirk of his basking in the glory of his two mates. Feyre and I pull out all the stops to drive Rhys insane.So that he would set down his whiskey and join us on the dance floor. Would whisper promises in our ears before winnowing us home to continue the party away from the prying eyes of the customers of Rita’s.

But all too soon the song dies, replaced with a mellow slow song. And reality slowly starts to settle back in.

“You’re pretty.” Feyre slurs, wrapping herself around me. Her words sober me up. Her silver eyes filled with so much admiration that it nearly physically hurts. 

“And you are drunk.” I tried to laugh but a knife was twisting in my heart. “Let’s get  you back to your mate.”

I force my mental shields into place not wanting any of my secrets spilling out. My eyes scan the room looking for the high lord. Eventually I was able to spot Illyrian wings. That typically signaled the General and the Shadowsinger. It is a slow process to move the drunken High lady across the clubs to the booths. Feyre did not make the process easy. She clung to me and dragged her feet not wanting to leave the dance floor. Eventually, we are able to make it to the booths. There we find Rhysand and Azriel. Seeing the large wings on the highlord was shocking. I had heard whispers that Rhysand could summon wings, but I had never seen them myself. I had never thought he could be more beautiful, but I stand corrected. 

“Feyre Darling, and Sweetheart what a surprise.” His eyes brighten up at the sight of the two of us.

“Rhys look who I found.” Feyre giggles stroking my face, a smile growing on her face. She stumbles just a bit, and I have to scramble to catch her. 

“I see Darling. You found our dear sweetheart.” He laughs at the two of us.

“I danced with her, Rhys. I wanna keep dancing.” I slowly moved her closer to the booth. In an attempt to get her to sit down. Thank The Mother I am able to get her to sit on the bench with a little bit of prompting. I try to move away but she is quick to grab my hand holding it with a surprising strength keeping me close to the table.

“I think the High Lady might have had a touch too much.” I tell the amused looking High Lord.

“Rhys!!!!” She slurs drawing out his name in a whine “Make her dance with me.”

“I think it might be time to take her home.” I look between the two amused males at the table. 

“You don’t want to keep dancing Sweetheart?” Rhys raises his glass of whiskey to his lips staring at me in interest.

“As much as I would love to keep dancing with the High Lady. I do have work in the morning, and I still have to get ready to go to Day later this week.” I shrug, at this point home seemed like it would be the best option for me “I’m probably about to head out. 

“Noooooooooooo.” Feyre whines wrapping her arms around my waist as if to keep me here with them “Stay.”

“I think that is my cue to take her home.” Rhys quickly drains the whiskey in his glass. 

“Darling. Let's walk Sweetheart out.” He gently coaxes her to let go of my waist. 

“Fine.” I chanced a quick look at the Shadowsinger to see his shoulders shaking in barely contained laughter. He obviously finds this whole situation hilarious. I ought to put three extra stitches in his wing slots. He would still be able to wear it but it would make it ever so slightly uncomfortable for him.

Eventually we manage to coax feyre to the door. I had paid my tab before I went to the dance floor, and Minnie was nowhere to be seen. She probably took some female home with her. We had parted ways on the dance floor shortly after we had moved from the bar. 

The moment Rhys had let go of Feyre she decided to latch herself back on me. 

“Come with us. We miss you.” She buries her face into my neck “We never get to see you anymore.” 

“Darling we have to let Sweetheart go.” Rhys attempts to gently remove Feyre, who has all but koalaed herself to me.

“But we won’t see her again.” She struggles against her mate snuggling further into me “She's going all the way to Day for two weeks. And then its Starfall and she not celebrating with us, so we won't get to see her until we have to get new dresses” 

So Amren had let that fact slip. I knew she had been looking at the papers on my desk a little too closely.

“Well, we can ask her if she would like to celebrate Starfall with us Darling. If you want to see her; you can always see if she will go get lunch or coffee with you.” He gently coaxes her to let me go. 

I feel the gentle scrape of a claw along my mental shields. I ever so slightly open a crack for Rhysand. 

‘Once I get her off of you, I’m going to winnow her home. I’m sorry that she decided to latch onto you.’ He whispers quietly in my mind.

‘It's ok, make sure she gets home safely.’ It's a polite response. 

‘Will do. Please send me a note letting me know you made it back to your home safely.’ The concern in his voice is unusual to me but I nod all the less. Soon enough Rhysand pries his wife of a me and has picked her up in a bridal carry. 

“Have a good night Sweetheart.” He winks before winnowing away to their home. 

With the two of them gone it feels like a weight has been lifted off of my chest. My trip to Day cannot come soon enough. Just this little taste of what it would be like with them kills me. They didn’t mean it though; Feyre was drunk and clingy, and Rhys would have told her whatever he thought she wanted her to hear so that she would let go. They didn’t mean what they said and that hurt. I got a glimpse of what having them both would be like only to have the rug ripped out from under my feet. 

A hand lands on my shoulder causing me to jump. I whirl around getting ready to fight off whoever grabbed me only to be met with the Shadowsinger.

“Everything good?” He raises a brow. 

“Yeah Rhysand is taking the High Lady home.” I force a smile on my face.

“Heading home, yourself?” He cocks his head to the side. 

“Yeah, I wasn’t lying about having work in the morning.” I sigh. Work was going to suck tomorrow. The Starfall rush was in full swing and I was going to be gone right in the  thick of it but I couldn’t help the fact that my manufacturer was running behind, and this was one of the first times Helion could meet with me. 

“Let me make sure you get home safe.” Azriel says and motions for me to lead the way. 

We walk together in a comfortable silence.  He doesn’t push me to talk to him; he just walks behind me like a terrifying bodyguard. I had always liked that Azriel was comfortable with silence; he never tried to fill the silence of his appointments with mindless chatter. Eventually we made it to my family's home. 

“Make sure you tell Rhys that you got home or he will burst into your shop like a worried mother hen.” Azriel deadpans. 

“I will write him a note the moment I get inside.” I let out a little laugh “Thank you for walking me home Azriel.” 

“It was no problem.” He gives me a warm smile. “I will see you later.”

Azriel’s massive wings spread out and with a mighty flap he is airborne and heading into the sky.  I quickly open the door and shut it once I have entered it warmth. After locking the door I start towards my room.

Note then bed.

Made it home- Sweetheart. 

With a quick flick of my wrist the note is off. 

‘Tomorrow will be better.’ I lied to myself as I striped and crawled under the covers.

Soon sleeps claiming me in her cold arms.

Tag List: @nyctophiliiia @rachelnicolee @goldenmagnolias @jesssicapaniagua @sweetorangeblossom @cat-or-kitten @alowint @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @coldpeachkitten @esosadomd @araneea92 @saltedcoffeescotch @persephonesalvatore @motorsp0rt @motheroffae @butterfix @unfortunatelyuntiltheend @kissesfromnovalie @daughterofthemoons-stuff @saturnalya @thecraziestcrayon @hjgdhghoe @phoenixgurl030

[cloyingblccd]

A few moments pass, and Soren can’t tell if he’s making it up or if he can see a crack loosen in Bash. Nothing that allows someone to see past surface level, but his tone isn’t as venomous, glare settling for something mild - an indifferent glance. He’ll take it. Aggressive, cocky, obnoxious - Soren is all of that, and still slap-happy when he can feel a dynamic shift in his favour. At first, it was easy to pretend validation was necessary for easy manipulation. Get what he wanted when he wanted. Eventually, it became harder and harder to ignore that he simply did it because he enjoyed the gut-warm feeling of earning acceptance. Community. Something told him that if Bash heard any of this, he’d punch Soren right in the face. He’d probably have to reciprocate, just to make sure it knocked enough brain cells loose that his companion would forget the interaction entirely. Better to steer clear of anything too damning. “He smiles!” Soren snorted, nodding his head towards the exit and turning, expecting Bash to follow - the other seemed as desperate as he suddenly was to soothe the buzz vibrating under everyone’s skin since the mesh of their schools. “Soren.” They hadn’t actually properly introduced each other. Reaching forward, he looked as if he were offering a hand for Bash to shake - really, he was extending a cigarette, another tidbit in hopes of winning him over. “Y’don’t say a lot, do ya?” It was more observation than question, though it felt polite to pose it as such. “I don’t actually shut the fuck up. We’re at a crossroads here. Unless you’re fine with one-sided conversation. Bit boring for me, though - totally rude of you, dude.”

bash  needed  absolutely  anything  to  simmer  the  anxiety  swirling  through  his  mind.  he'd  pawn  the  nerves  and  mask  it  as  complete  anger,  disdain  for  anyone  and  everything  to  cross  his  path.  it  was  easier  to  react  that  was.  to  make  the  subtle  change  of  trembling  fingers  to  a  clenched  fist.  to  ease  his  breathing  by  tension  in  his  jawline  creasing.  anger  was  easier.  simpler.  and  he'd  take  it  any  day  rather  than  admitting  maybe,  just  maybe  he  was  a  little  bit  out  of  his  comfort  zone.  maybe  soren  did  have  a  point  –  they  both  were  here,  not  with  their  group  and  not  in  the  area  they  were  meant  to  be  in.  it  was  instinct  for  bash  to  play  offense,  piss  someone  off  and  shoo  them  away.  still,  the  other  seemed  completely  unbothered.  perhaps  soren  had  matching  thorns  or  maybe  he  was  used  to  the  cynical  type.  a  crinkle  of  bash's  nose  was  the  only  signifier  that  he  was  actually  listening  to  other  ramble  off  about  who  the  fuck  knows.  kinks.  drugs.  in  the  middle  of  book  stew.  perhaps  soren  was  a  bit  shameless,  which  bash  didn't  mind.  still,  he  wasn't  about  to  peel  back  a  layer.  〝    legality  never  stopped  me  before,       〞bash  commented,  tone  lackadaisical.  a  small  sigh  left  bash  at  the  offer,  although  tempted  to  tell  soren  to  fuck  off..  he  could  use  a  drink  himself.  〝  maybe  you  can  be  a  useful  tour  guide,       〞he  murmured  with  a  small  smirk  curving  in  his  features. 

[nabsthevulture]

Buying dog training books because I want to be as prepared as possible in case I can't find reliable dog training near me

[feroluce]

Had the cutest realization last night- so there's a saying we have in English meaning to get something done by any means necessary. It specifically includes dishonest methods, such as violence or lying. So when you're willing to resort to that kind of thing to achieve your goals, you say you're going to do something

"by hook or by crook"

[luna-loveboop]

It's all "links meet aus" and "zeldas meet aus", but where's my "companions meet aus"?

I wanna see midna bash fi and navis heads together for annoying her

I mean can you imagine the sheer chaos of all the Zelda companions meeting and going on a journey together? They're all companions/guides! One of thems a talking hat for hylias sake how are they supposed to take initiative?

I think it'd be like Lu where they all just meet up, but can you imagine the chain just somehow finds out this happened (and twilight is just like guys I am so sorry about midna) (but they're also really oddly touched that all their friends met each other too)

Pretty sure midna would be the sort of leader, since the last time she was in a foreign world she just found the nearest dude and started ordering him around. By like halfway through twilight princess she was literally asking LINK to accompany her to get what she needed.

But like. 90% of the group would be fairies. Which can't heal. One is a talking hat who just needs a head? He can't go on midnas cause she throws him off with her magic hair, poor ezlo is just trying to keep up.

They also have these weird green shadows who come around? They don't talk, but there's a rock, a fish, a bird, and a lady who just appear and stab things and shoot wind water fire and lightning.

Also midnas really confused why wolf link just shows up and kills things every now and then (from botw amibo)

Fi is the one who can talk to Hylia and awaken memories and get guidance and information or whatever, but she only does this by ballerina dancing and the others are always pissed at her anyways "WE DONT KNOW WHAT BATTERIES ARE OR A WII REMOTE WILL YOU PLEASE GO BACK IN SWORD FORM ALREADY" "I detect there is a 90% chance you need a key to open this door" "wow. Your perception is unparalleled fi."

Also there's a boat. A boat. Who is also good at taking charging since he's a king, which causes some friction between him and midna, since she has to grab him by her hair to move him half the time.

And with the fairies. Again. They all offer advice mainly. And with the fairies a lot of their main role is speaking and getting attention and pitching in? They come on an intersection and there's a chorus of bells all shouting the same directions. Ezlo is trying to cover the kings ears from his place on the boats head

Also there's this ghost/spirit of Zelda that everyone just feels REALLY strong loyalty to. But she's just like this kid who wants her body back?! They try to protect her but she can turn into a purple knight and stab things so there's that. I think there's also some animal companions from ooa/oos so.

Side quests are nonexistent they don't care about a village or gathering frogs for a kid they are there to save the world on a mission linear plot it is

And it's interesting because you have so many of them who just vanish and then appear to give loud advice. All at once. And the fighting skills basically fall to those weird green shadows that shoot various elements and fight and randomly disappear. Midna and spirit Zelda can fight, and Fi can too (kind of like how she fights as a sword in hyrule warriors). Also up to you if midna is drop dead gorgeous or devilish imp.

By the end they find whatever enemy so they can go back and midna is so pissed by this point that she hears the word "batteries" from Fi and goes full on fused shadow and just obliterates the jerk

***I have not played all the games so do not know or understand all of the companions and probably got some stuff wrong

Bonus: there is a child in a village named Link who does not have the spirit of the hero. He is stalked for three days until Fi decides his vibes are off and they all stop telling him he's the chosen one

[mordredpendragon]

@eviltoxicmosssauce omg!!!! i'm really excited for when you doodle them, please by all means tag me when you do because i'd love to see! also that's a lot of questions haha let me answer them one by one.

yes, mordred's arm is a prosthetic. there's no origin i just made it up because i thought it would be cool. i basically just thought "what if clarent was actually a badass prosthetic arm instead of a sword?" so he can do all sorts of things with it. it's inspired by Guts from the manga Berserk who also has a prosthetic arm! and other hack and slash protagonists, like Nero from Devil May Cry 5 and Zero from Drakengard 3.

2. honestly there's a whole lot to mordred and percival's relationship in LidERi you might want to either DM me or send me another ask. but if i had to give you one thing, it's that mordred is knight (or rather, squire, in their case) that percival first meets. they've known each other since they were teenagers. mordred also kind of takes yvonet's role in helping percival catch his bearings when he first enters linawasa (albeit begrudgingly, lol)

anyway, here's them as squires. i posted it on my art blog!

3. if you want to get to know percival more, oh boy am i the person for you! here are some of my recommendations:

The BEST way to get to know percival is to read Chretien de Troyes' Story of Grail. I personally read Burton Raffel's translation as a kid and it's what got me to fall in love with medieval literature, but I also highly recommend Nigel Bryant's translation since it also includes the continuations!

but you also have options! i recommend this beautiful picture book, Perceval: King Arthur's Knight of The Holy Grail by John Perkins & Gennady Spirin (2007) as well as Perceval 1978, a live action adaptation of Story of Grail with its own batshit insane ending. it's also very faithful to chretien!

i also recommend reading Peredur, which you can find in the Mabinogion. i recommend this translation by Meirion Pennar that also has illustrations with a very good intro about Peredur himself. there is another translation by Sioned Davies that includes the entirety of the Mabinogion.

tbh you could also always just look through my blog i don't stfu about this guy. here is a post from @gingersnaptaff discussing Peredur and Cai and another one from @queer-ragnelle discussing the differences between Percival and Galahad's grail quest narratives. percival also has so much beautiful contemporary artwork and depictions that you can derive inspiration from! like this one from Howard Pyle.

I'm also very fond of his portrayal in Excalibur 1981 by Paul Geoffrey and Knights of the Round Table 1953 by Gabriel Woolf.

you could also find information on him in The Arthurian Companion by Phyllis Ann Karr, and The Percival Casebook edited by Arthur Groos and Norris J. Lacy.

sorry i'm done. i hope that was enough i held back because i also got a bajillion essays saved on the guy and he also has plenty, i mean PLENTY of medlit all about him.

anyway, in regards to High Noon Over Camelot by The Mechanisms, i love that album! i'm not as into it these days but i loved it when i was first getting into arthuriana when i was younger, and it was also influential in how i write mordred, i love that they depict mordred as an idealist. he's also a trans man which is great! i also depict him as a trans man and that reading of him is one that means a lot to me, so i'm very pleased that it's also shared by a lot of people!

greetings catboy mordred nation. i was wondering whether you've got any medlit recs that have good percival/mordred moments cuz ive never actually seen them interact in what i've read but your art has me invested

also i pronounce it persimmon in my head which i think is an adorable ship name

omg hi moss! thanks you so much for the ask, and yes i confirm it is meant to be announced persimmon. it doesn't mean anything, i just think it sounds cute.

also i'm very happy you got invested in them through my art, that means so much to me 💕 as a thank you, here's a little doodle of them!

with that out of the way, this post is stupidly long, so all my thoughts will be under the cut below.

if i'm being honest 99% of the stuff for them is basically made up for my own canon and lore in my personal project, LidERi: Paradise Lost. they started off as a crackship and i just thought they'd make a good pairing together, and here we are. if you want to know more about their LidERi: Paradise lost iteration specifically, you can go through the #prsmn tag under my blog or ask me ^^

but in regards to medieval literature, there's one interaction that stands out to me the most and i've actually posted about my thoughts on it here!

vulgate lancelot part VI, page 325 to be exact.

it's simple and brief, but i find it very poignant and there's a lot worth examining here! mordred calls him "simple" and "prefers peace to war", percival is also described as gentle. 'in no way did he resemble a proud knight'. this is also around the same time he first left his mother, aglovale took him to arthur's court so he hasn't yet faced the hardships of being a knight. 'his shield, where no blow had yet been struck' is an apt observation made by kay.

mordred is also a young knight here, i put him to be around the same age loosely as percival if not just a little bit older. after this brief encounter, their comments are repeated to percival by a court jester to which he's mocked.

now, i personally don't think mordred or kay (for once this time!) meant any ill will behind them, they simply stated an observation. even then, it rouses percival to go on a quest to prove himself as a worthy knight to mordred (and kay but this isn't about him rn lol)

it is an incredibly rash action, percival defies his older brother aglovale by leaving court early on (in the middle of winter, no less!) he feels so strongly about proving that he's a worthy knight to mordred that he's willing to die for it. pretty crazy. it's where i got my reading of them as rivals. they started off as one sided rivals on percival's side but he quickly catched up to mordred, to which mordred thinks "oh fuck, i can't let him beat me." lol

this interaction is also in le morte d'arthur, except the scene itself at court is missing, so you only know about it through percival telling patrides/persydes about it.

anyway, going back to vulgate, arthur finds out about this and reprimands both kay and mordred about it which is really funny.

and he is right! percival does in fact go on to meet hector de maris and team up with him in order to find lancelot.

this starts on page 336 if you want to read it yourself. basically, percival comes across The Guilty Knight clad in all black armour in the isle of joy. the guilty knight challenges any and all knights that come across him and is undefeated until percival asks him for a duel to which he wins, and the knight reveals himself to be lancelot.

so yeah. so called best knight of the world lancelot is actually rivaled by a young percival, he might be one of the only characters to ever equal to or defeat both lancelot and gawain i think. (it's certainly the case in perlesvaus, but that's a post for another day.)

percival also reunites lancelot with his brother hector in a really sweet scene, and then the two of them get to meet the then child galahad who is just 10 years old.

sorry that ended up just being moreso about percival in vulgate but i hope you understand what i mean! i think it's safe to say that mordred pushed percival to outdo himself and be better, and that brief yet significant interaction led to percival performing wonders. bear in mind that lancelot was missing for A DECADE. they literally got an expedition of knights to look for him INCLUDING but not limited to mordred, gawain, aglovale, etc, and they failed. percival did what they couldn't.

apart from that, they also have a minor interaction in the perceval continuations where percival jousts against mordred and mordred gets his ass beat. it's not that significant so i don't think about it or mention it too much, but here it is if you're curious.

while not medieval literature the ones i'm about to list are retellings, i'd be remiss not to mention them. but i do know of gradalis (they're like. actually gay in this one) but its entirely in french so i can't tell you much about it.

what i CAN tell you about though is The Last Knight of Albion by Peter Hanratty, wherein percival is the titular last knight, seeking mordred for revenge for arthur's death. it's a follow up from The Book of Mordred, which i recommend you to read first.

anyways, here's some toxic old man yaoi mordred/percival from The Last Knight of Albion, on the house from me. it's got some insane gay tension in it lol i can't believe Peter Hanratty wrote about percival having an intense homoerotic fixation on mordred before i did.

tl;dr i think they're neat. their interaction in vulgate is brief but resonant enough for me to pull a lot of inspiration from it and you'd be surprised that they also have a lot of parallels and things in common with each other.

they're both the youngest among 5 brothers and have a destiny/fate greater than them (being the one to end arthur's reign and being a grail knight respectively). it's even spicier when you factor in the orkney/wales blood feud which adds onto their rivals bit. i could go on and on about it, like their biblical paralells (percival as biblical adam, mordred as lucifer, percival being tempted by lucifer in disguise during vulgate grail quest, etc), percival in perlesvaus being a vessel of atonement/revenge of the sins done unto his father, mordred carrying the burden of sin as the literal embodiment of arthur's failings, etc etc, but this post is already long af. i hope it's enough to at least give you something to think about and extrapolate from. i hope you enjoy!

much love, and welcome to 🥭 PRSMN NATION 💕

[1-800-i-ship-it]

omg i just finished orv im going insane im im i can finally look at that doc of things i saved for after i finished orv and can look at spoilers...i can finally unblock that orv spoiler tag...im so normal about orv

[ganondoodle]

i was so happy that ganondorf was a character in totk when it was announced but now i am just sad about it honestly, i get that the older games had the trio as a good kids VS evil old guy thing, but i sincerely hoped that how much botw revolutionized(?) about the zelda principle in terms of gameplay they would now have the chance to do so, at least a little bit, in totk with the story

and then, as much as i like his design, hes again just an already very old evil guy that appeared out of nowhere for all we know that needs to be stopped by some kids/really young people and all the crumbs of personality or well ... not even crumbs but pure idea of a backstory we have to interpret into it all from things like manner of speech, animation and design elements bc all he does is some evil monologing that doesnt even serve well for interpretation

like, he was already so old when we first see him, what did he do all his life?? like even if he only turned aggressive once rauru founded this version of hyrule he had to have lived idk 50 years before that, was he just a regular leader of his people before that?? was he just .. some dude?? all we actually know is ... old evil guy shows up and attacks the perfect and good kingdom (tm) dont we? maybe some vague, arbitrary you denied me *generic villain thing like power, rule etc* line but thats it?

(i dont mind having to read between the lines, it can be very fun, but it also depends on if you are reading between lines and theres something intentionally left there or if you are trying really hard to see something but theres nothing actually there for you to find; to be clear, i also like creating your own ideas around stuff, but when you get to know some people from basically birth to their prime time and then theres a guy thats just there to be an endboss and even now in modern games doesnt get anything beyond a neat design and fun bossfight its just ... so flat?sad? i love interpeting but i also wouldnt mind to see something more for once ..)

[prettyboykatsuki]

i have many many many critiques about wylls story, most of them being about the fact it's just so lackluster in game when compared to other companions which is a shame. because wyll to me is and has the potential to be an even more emotionally compelling companion. and he was early access!! he was so gritty in ea please bring him back larian i beg of thee. the way he was rewritten has stripped him of so much nuance and depth. wyll to me is such a wonderful character to me because of what he represents, which is heroism so down to his core he never gives up on it even when he ought to

his goodwill and nobility are ceaseless. at the center of his story is betrayal trauma, his agency over himself vanished into thin air. mizora turns him into a monster and there is no turning back. he has become the thing he's despised, the things he's hunted for his entire life. and we know so little about that canonically because of the way his story is set up but its hinted time and time again that he struggles with his reality deeply and even that cannot make him turn away from the city he loves so much.

if larian would go back to clean up and fix his story (which im truly praying to god they do) i want them to touch on what wyll must be going through as he continues to try to ground himself and deal with his newfound reality. i want them to touch on the abandonment he experiences because of his father and the inevitable burden his title as blade and hero has on him. because these things obviously compel him, they're hinted at all the time but they were completely stripped of him in final release and its fucking disheartening... larian please im begging you. thats the love of my life. please.

but for now i will do it with fanfiction and gather enough wyll fans to make a fuss about it . peace and love

[loveydive]

okay. finished veilguard. um. it sure was definitely a game.