#a lot of us grew up with this game. no matter how many years pass we'll always think fondly of it and watch/play from time 2 time...

[willyhoos]

chara deserves to break out of the game window and stretch their legs a little.

HD still beneath cut!

[fan-goddess]

Chapter One: A child’s dream

Catch up on the fic here!

Chapter Summary: You’ve had your previous thoughts on Abraham. Only now he’s come back into your life, they’ve seemed to change to something up can’t control

Taglist: @valeskafics, @omgbrcat @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @blue-serendipity @anjelicawrites @lexwolfhale

Warnings: Talk of arranged marriages, most likely incorrect stuff about Romani culture, crushes, (if I miss any things let me know!)

Ever since you were young, you have always known that you would be married to a man not of your choosing. It was common knowledge in your community how your husband would be chosen for you by your mother and father, whose decisions you have relied upon for so many years.

It felt almost natural, as It had never been something you'd ever feared. If anything, you were quite calm about the whole thing.

It wasn’t as if you were going through something you didn’t already know. Your mother had taught you young what it was you needed to do to be considered a perfect Romani wife by your husband. Some of your fondest memories from when you were a young girl involved you in the kitchen with your mother, who took great pride in making sure you knew all the recipes needed to cook a proper meal for your future family. Though they certainly each had their moments.

From the burn on your wrist you got when you'd splashed boiling water from a too full pot, to the scarred over cut on your finger when you’d been distracted cutting parsnips. From the many years of life, your skin was etched with memories. Still, like most girls in the community, it was one of the few ways to get the undivided attention from your mother, so you hardly complained.

Your father though, as much as he, like all fathers in the community, expected his daughter to be the good wife for their future husband, he never allowed the idea to pass through his head that you would be possibly disrespected by him. It was very much of a shock to you that when you were a girl verging on womanhood, your father brought you to the camps nearby forest and l taught you what it was you needed to do in any situation gone wrong. Compared to most fathers, It was a rare concern to hold, and yet you were considerably grateful for it years later when you were finally allowed to venture into the nearby villages alone, and found what it was exactly what some men did to women while they were on their own.

Your friends, all consisting of the daughters of other members of the community you grew up with, from what you could tell did not seem to have fathers who shared the same concerns as yours did. If anything, it was as if their fathers were fully prepared to give them away to the man who presented the best gift/reason, so he could intertwine his and their daughter’s familiar ties. Most fathers it seemed wanted to use their daughters as a way to better contribute to the community of travellers you all lived with.

Yet when you’d asked your friends on their opinion of the matter, they didn’t seem to care very much. If anything, they seemed a little too eager by the prospects of a marriage outcome like their parents to think of any possible repercussions of what could happen.

It had even become a game to the lot of you. Where one girl would name five random men, some belonging to the community some not, and a girl would need to list them in order of how much they’d want to marry them. It was what the lot of you were doing now whilst you all hung out round the back of one of the caravans, sitting wherever you could to avoid staining your clothes on the muddy floor. At the tender age of fifteen, giggling your hearts out as you all hoped for a future like your parents.

“Okay! Now you need to pick between…. Karl, Lee, Lucas, Jamerson and… Abraham!” One of your friends said, pointing to you to answer whilst you begin to mindlessly laugh with your mates. It was nice to do this. To be so close to girls you knew would be living practically next door to you for your whole life.

They all began to join in laughing loudly though as you proclaimed your preference name by name with a small smile. And when you got to the last name of the list, they’d looked shocked and gasped most loudly of all when Abraham’s name was spoken.

“But he’s so handsome!” One wide eyed girl had said.

Another chimed in, “Have you not seen his muscles? He helps my father with the log cutting and believe me when I say, those muscles were something else...”

“Of course I’ve seen him!” You say, sipping at some random drink that may or may not be yours. “He’s got the hair and personality of Elvis damn Presley!”

Like it had begun, the girls all began to giggle in unison once more. And when Missy Ferguson became raving about her dream man needing to be over six foot, laughter echoed and the cycle began all over again.

It had been nearly a year when you crossed paths with Abraham again.

Your father, now unable to physically help to provide for the family, took it upon himself to enlist the help of a fellow man in the community to do the tasks he himself was no longer able to do. Aka, chop the wood and help hunt the livestock.

He hadn’t told you of his decision, which is why you made such a shocked face when you heard a knock early one morning, opened the door, and found yourself face to face with Abraham. Who much to your appreciation, didn’t seem to show his reaction to your very poorly hidden gawking.

“Abe my boy!” Your father happily shouted from the kitchen table, not even giving you a clue as to what was possibly happening. Still, you step aside with your mouth practically hanging open and let Abraham in, finding yourself strangely timid over his sudden entrance into your home.

You quickly retreat back to your small room to allow the two men to talk, and yet the curiosity naws at you desperately when you hear the two usually stoic men laughing like the oldest pals in the world in your kitchen.

Your ears stay perked as you lay your head against the door. Annoyance bubbling within you as very few words could be made out.

Who knew such a shabby caravan has such great soundproof walls…. You muse, quickly stepping away to look busy as you hear footsteps come close to your door, before passing and opening the front door and closing it again soon after.

You peak your head out after couple minutes to be safe, and the first thing you see is your father with a hot cup of tea in his hands. A sigh falling from his lips as you make your way over to him.

“So what did he want.” You ask, adding a tea bag to a random old mug as you pour your own cup of tea with a smile.

“Nothing much bullet. I asked him to come over to ask him a favour or two, and the bloke accepted them.” Trust your father to give you no extra information. If only it was your mother who’d made the arrangement and talked to him. Then she’d be talking for Britain.

You give a small hum as an acknowledgement, and try to distract yourself by mindlessly sipping at the tea in your hands after pouring a splash of milk in.

Humming as you taste it, but only to burn your tongue and yell a loud swear not even a few seconds later.

“Always tell you to wait a minute...” Your father says, almost teasing you as he calmly sips his own tea. The smug thing…

“And I always ignore you!” You smile, allowing yourself to sink into the sofas comfy mismatched cushions beside him.

It’s strange, as whist you sip at your tea, your brain it seems cannot allow itself to stop thinking of Abraham, no matter how hard you try and think of something else.

What was it your father wanted from Abraham of all people? It was probably to help with chores he can’t do anymore, you thought. The injury he’d sustained earlier in the year making it so your father couldn’t do the hard labouring tasks as he used to anymore.

Hopefully you wouldn’t have to see him anymore though, you think, gulping the rest of your drink with vigour. Even though a minute later your gasping like you suddenly were about to breathe fire with how hot the tea was.

The afternoon of the next day, a knock rang through the whole home. And when you opened the door, to your surprise, you were greeted by four dead pheasants and a small rabbit hanging from a piece of string in Abrahams hands.

“I’ve got some wood to give you too, it’s down there beside me.” He grunts, seemingly unphased by your look at bewilderment that you cannot seem to be able to hide no matter how much you try.

“Thank you very much...” You choke, slightly disgusted by the sight of floppy carcasses as he hands the string that holds them all over to you, before stepping away to grab the medium stack of wooden logs by his legs that he now holds in front of you.

If you’re honest, you’re sort of in the deep end as you have no idea what to do. So you just put the animals where you can in the fridge for your father to hopefully deal with later, and awkwardly try to get the wood from his hold without directly touching him.

“I’ll be back in two days with some more logs, and in four days with more food.” He says, before leaving as quickly as he came. The sound of his boots hitting the muddy ground echoing loudly, excluding the sounds of your own inner thoughts that just scream utter nonsense at you. Abraham name loudest of all.

Abraham seemed to be a man of his word, as he came just like he said he would. On the second day of with a whole pile of wood in his arms, and on the fourth with more dead animals hanging by a string between his fingers.

You somehow managed to control yourself by answering with a simple nod and a small thanks, to which he’s begin to acknowledge with a distinct nod and leave soon as he came. Your mother however, when you’d pass her the items whenever she was home, always made sure to sing his praises for what he’d been doing recently.

“Oh what a good boy he is!” She praised whilst she began to prepare one of the many pheasants he’d brought for dinner that night.

“He’s a man mum, not a damn dog!” You snap whilst you cut up the potatoes into small pieces. You don’t know why you’re all of a sudden so spiteful towards him. Why should you? He’s only being treated like he’s all of a sudden your families favourite child for gods sake...

“Hey now! Watch that mouth young lady!” Your mum says, sending you a sharp look out the corner of her eye that already manages to send shivers down your spine. In her eyes, the discipline of a child never gets old, no matter how much they age.

“He’s doing us such a favour by helping your dad out! You know what, I think we should send him a home cooked pheasant pie as a thank you present! That boy sure needs a home cooked meal, I’m sure of it!”

You groan in annoyance, and it’s brought on with yet another sharp look, but joined with a quick yet sharp tap on your knuckles with her wooden spoon that makes sure to stop you quickly in your bad mood.

Though much to your annoyance, dinner was made and cooked not as slow as you’d like. As not even a couple minutes after you and your parents finished your dinner and placed the plates by the sink, your mother quick as a fiddle nipped to the freezer where she whipped out a smaller pheasant pie to place in your hands with an annoyingly smug smile.

“Make sure to tell him thank you from all of us!” She shouts, leaning on the edge of the doorframe still in her apron as she ushered you off to the direction of where Abraham lived. “And make sure to tell me when you get back exactly what he says when you give it to him!”

“Yes mum!” You answer back, practically grumbling with a face liked a rotten peach while you walk to the other side of the camp with the dish still in your hands.

The dish is still cold in your hands from being in the freezer, yet to your liking it seems to effectively bring your thoughts away from the man you’ll be quickly visiting. Away from the thoughts involving his eyes, that somehow have gotten bluer over the course of the years you went out of touch with him. Or his arms, that appear to have even more tattoos tattered on them from when you last properly looked at him at fifteen.

Before you even know it though, you’re at his door, knocking at it with the tip of your feet as you make sure not to drop the ceramic dish in your hands. If you did, you think you’d never hear the end of it from your mother.

Still, no matter how tightly you held it before, you almost find yourself dropping it either way when Abraham opens the door, and you find yourself face to face with his bare naked chest decorated in various ink in various places. The golden glint of his chain around his neck contrasting almost beautifully against his skin.

You can’t speak as an awkward silence manages to overwhelm you, while Abraham’s own face moulds into that a cheeky grin. You can feel your own face turning a deep shade of red as you realise he’s caught you gawking like an absolute idiot.

“We- I mean, my mum, made you a pie from some of the meat you brought us. A-as a thank you present for helping out with dad.” You stutter, thrusting the dish into his hands while he continues to grin almost spitefully at you. If there’s one thing you remember, it’s that he’s most certainly kept the same smugness from when the two of you were teenagers.

“Thanks pretty girl. I’ll see you in a couple days with another delivery.” Is all he says, turning to give you an almost teasing glimpse of his naked back, before using his own foot to shut the door behind him with a sharp slam.

You can’t find yourself able to move as you continue to stand on the steps like an idiot. Your feet feel as if they’re frozen, with your mouth somehow finding itself hanging slightly open, and your mind screaming at you only one thing.

Abraham has a tattoo on his fucking back.

It was a strangely delicate looking thing on his right shoulder blade. You couldn’t tell what it was with how quickly he moved away, but you could tell it was about the side of your palm. What it was supposed to be though, you can’t say, but you’re way too focused on the body itself rather than the tattoo to even think about it. You already knew he had some. He hadn’t exactly hidden them when he’d opened the door shirtless showing the ones he had on his arms and front of his body. Yet still, that tattoo on his back stood out to you compared to all the others. It looked almost delicate. Soft even.

But fuck. Why did he have to be so attractive now of all the times?

You walk back home confused. Yet soon as you get through your door you’re immediately bombarded with questions from your mother with her ever raging nosiness.

“He said thanks for the pie, not much else.” Is all you get out before you manage to shut your bedroom door behind you, your mother’s disappointed sigh somehow managing to make it through it. Even though somehow days ago you couldn’t even manage to make out Abraham and your father’s conversation in the room next door.

You fling yourself across the bed and in pure exhaustion lay on it face down. You shut your eyes and attempt to sleep the days confusion away from you, but you can’t. Abraham somehow manages to consume you whole without even trying.

At fifteen, to you, he had just been this cocky little shit who went round annoying all the girls with his smirk and his charm. The only time you’d seen him break the usual facade of cockiness was when he asked you to date him when the two of you were younger. It’d been an awkward thing even you had to admit, but you were practically still a kid at the time. So no particular grievances were exactly made from his change of heart when you rejected him. but it was for the best. It never would’ve worked out. Right? Besides, before you knew it, he’d moved on to some new, curvy looking girl from the nearby village.

Yet now…. now he’s oddly a man. A man with tattoos and such a sudden involvement in your life that it’s almost like a sort of slap on the face. And somehow it’s cause of your father of all people.

The only thing you manage to think off though, is what the hell are you going to do now…

[nottyourlover]

Broken Bonds - ch 2

a/n: prolly 4 ch's now :) sorry this took 800 years i kinda put off writing this bc i didnt want to disappoint but here it is.

ALSO SORRY THERE WILL MOST LIKELY BE ~7 WEEKS OF HIATUS AFTER THIS.

series summary: as azriel leaves for a long mission in vallahan, you find that clinging onto old bonds does nothing to heal them.

contains: angst, still mental health themes, pregnant y/n, off-page death, language. slowburn ???????

word count: 8506 (oh gosh)

ch 1 // ch 3

***

Many weeks passed, and with each day, the void left by Azriel's absence grew wider, but luckily you found yourself surrounded with some of the best people in the world, you thought. As always, Feyre was wonderful; she helped you get out of bed, she re-ignited your passions. She listened to you vent about your relationship, gave you advice and she constantly surprised you, always with a little gift from a new store in The Rainbow. However, one of the best surprises you received didn't come from Feyre.

About two weeks after Azriel's departure you had received a letter from your childhood friend Aiden and his now fiance, Malakai. You couldn't believe it, because it had been centuries since you'd seen Aiden, let alone been contacted by him, but on the other hand you saw Malakai weekly. He was Cassian's right-hand man, and you learnt from him after the wedding that Aiden had become a healer who travelled around Prythian, practicing in all the courts. Their jobs were different in every way, but they complemented each other perfectly.

It was unexpected, the letter, but you couldn't have been happier to hear from them, especially because the envelope held an invitation their wedding.

The wedding was a modest celebration, but all the Inner Court members attended to show their support for the happy couple. Kai had known Cassian, Rhys and Azriel for years, since training together for the Blood Rite, and had stayed in touch for centuries after. He was now Cassian's Lieutenant General who commanded the Night Court's forces where Cassian was otherwise preoccupied with Inner Circle business. You knew him from the occasional training session, and you were glad that the two of you had gotten a lot closer after the wedding. He had become fast friends with the rest of the Inner Circle, and after the wedding Aiden also befriended them. It was almost laughable how you had managed to miss that the male Kai talked so fondly about, the healer that had stolen his heart, was your friend. Your Aiden.

Even if the last few months of your own life were less than ideal, the newly-wed couple had become your rocks, and you knew they would eventually become amazing parents since they were so doting towards you and your baby.

You were still early in your pregnancy but careful nonetheless. Although you still planned to work for as long as you could in an attempt to maintain some sense of normalcy, you quickly realised that it was going to be somewhat of a struggle hiding your pregnancy from the rest of the Inner Circle for any longer. Training was not any easier as no one suspected anything, and Mor and Cass still held their monthly game nights when they drank like there was no tomorrow.

Under Feyre's insistence, you had lessened your field work and so majority of your days consisted of writing letters to the other High Lords and leaders in attempt to strengthen alliances and unite the various factions within Prythian, hoping that it would create a better world for your child to grow up in. Due to past efforts, relations with the Day, Dawn, Summer and Winter courts were strong, and you were certain you had their support. The Spring Court with Tamlin, and Autumn with Beron were other matters, however. Perhaps you would ask Feyre to use her sway with Lucien who could convince Tamlin to at least reply to one of your letters, but you had recently heard Lucian say that he had not visited Spring in a long while, instead opting to stay with the Band of Exiles. Then you thought about High Lord Beron. He was a grumpy, disagreeable High Lord, and also a problem for another day, you had finally decided.

The first week and a half after Azriel's departure, you had rarely gotten out of bed, even when Feyre had tempted you with tarts. You felt bad that Cassian looked so regretful when he couldn't cheer you up when you neglected morning trainings those first few weeks. He thought it was because you were missing Azriel, and you were, but even more so, you were worrying over your pregnancy. When Feyre had finally managed to get you out of the house, the two of you mainly walked up and down The Rainbow, visiting the old bookstores and trying all the new bakeries.

Aiden was staying in Velaris for his honeymoon, but he still insisted on working, the kind male he was. You found happiness in visiting his healing clinic, helping him organise records and patient data. Listening to stories of his travels had inspired you like nothing else could. He told you about the catacombs under the Dawn Court, the unique architecture and history of Day.

His stories made you miss your mate, of the adventures the two of you had planned for the future, but you vowed that one day you'd travel with Azriel again. You tugged on the bond softly, something you had been doing since he left to feel connected. You weren't even sure if he could feel it though, since he never 'replied'.

Over the course of around two and a half months, you started to feel lighter. When you thought of your mate's return you started to feel optimistic. Maybe a break was the right decision, no matter how unplanned it initially was.

***

You had been spending most of your Sundays in Aiden's clinic, him helping with the pregnancy and keeping you company. You were browsing his bookshelves when you stumbled upon a book about Illyrian anatomy. It hadn't fully dawned on you yet that the child you were bringing into this world was likely going to come out with wings, but Aiden assured you the birth was not going to be too difficult seeing that you were half-Illyrian yourself. Your father had been an awful person, but at least he gave you the gift that would allow you to start a family with the one that you loved.

Obviously, a lot of trauma and pain occurred at a health clinic, but there was lots of warmth and beauty too, and it was becoming more apparent to you than ever. The young fae that lived in Velaris would occasionally come knocking to sell their sweets, or on quiet afternoons, Aiden would seek them out and give them some harmless (but hilarious) potions that would do crazy things, like temporarily turn their bodies invisible, colour their hair an electric blue, or even make them grow scales. Aiden was the finest healer in Prythian, and you were disappointed he could not stay for much longer than his honeymoon period before he needed to return to the road.

One such Sunday, the 12th week of your pregnancy had finally arrived. You were looking at your reflection in the full-length mirror, hand on your stomach.

You were showing. This was real.

You admired the swell of your stomach under the light, flowing dress. You looked... healthy. Glowing, even. Your features were not so hollowed out anymore, your cheeks fuller and eyes brighter, filled with shine. You felt better than ever.

But it was heartbreaking that your mate's absence had caused this, in a roundabout way. You closed your eyes, taking in this special moment. You reached to tug on the bond, and you swore you felt a glimmer of warmth before the string in your mind felt cold once more.

Aiden's voice dragged you out of your haze. "Y/n, are you ready to do the scan?" he asked, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

An "ultrasound" is what Aiden had called it. On his travels to the mortal lands, he had studied in the most advanced medical institutions on offer and was bringing this human technology to Faerie. This ultrasound was supposedly a sort of test they did on mortals with child, to verify the health and gender of the baby, and he was going to perform one on you today with the help of some of his healer magic to help.

"Just lay back on here, your dress should be stretchy enough for you to just lift it up..." Aiden trailed off as he fiddled with a tub of gel and a weird device, he explained he was going to lightly put on your stomach.

"In the Mortal Lands, they have these screens that show the mother the baby, but since I couldn't lug back a large computer, I'll compensate with a simple incantation. Unfortunately, this does mean you won't be able to keep any physical images of your baby."

You frowned slightly. You didn't even know it was on the table, to keep pictures of the little one growing inside you. You sighed a little as you readjusted the pillow and Aiden got to cleaning up. They would've been nice for Azriel to see, you supposed.

"Oh. That's okay, there's nothing you can do about it," is what you settled on saying. It had been centuries since the you had seen Aiden again, and after being somewhat abruptly pushed into each other's lives again... it was awkward, sometimes.

"I trust you," you added, "But exactly how many times has this magic-and-mortal-device combination been used for ultrasounds?"

Aiden flashed you the same boyish grin that got the two of you out of trouble when you were younger and given that your mother was... well, who she was, that was a difficult feat indeed. It was one of the reasons you had stuck with the slightly infuriating male who stood before you today; he would always protect you. Of course, this was until you had lost touch. "Well..." he pretended to do a thinking pose. You hoped he was joking.

You narrowed your eyes at him, but you doubted he could even see you. "Aiden? This is safe, right?"

"Just kidding, y/n. Of course, it is safe for use and has been trialed numerous times."

"Not funny." You muttered to yourself.

Under Aiden's instruction, you lifted up your dress until it was just under your bust. The masses of fabric were somewhat blocking your vision, but even so, you lifted your neck slightly to try see what Aiden was doing.

"It's interesting how mortals compensate for not having magic, this gel is especially interesting," he mused. He had become such an intellect, always curious and ready to learn. You were somewhat shocked to see what he'd made of himself, so different from that class clown you used to know.

You couldn't do more than make what hopefully came out as a sound of interest, as you weren't really able to see what "gel" your friend was even referring to.

"This might feel a bit cold," Aiden said, before he applied a thin layer of a wet, smooth mixture to your stomach. "It'll help this little machine to see your womb."

"Sure," you reply. What else could be said?

"Oh! Wait." You add abruptly. Aiden stopped his movements instantly. "I... don't want to know the gender." You finished, chewing your lip slightly.

"Are you sure?"

"Yet. I mean, yes. I don't want to know yet. I'll find out when everyone else does, whenever that is."

Aiden sent you a confident smile. "Okay, y/n/n."

After that, he seemed to sense your nervousness, and so after the gel was applied, Aiden placed a comforting hand on yours, which were busy pulling at the seams of your dress. The clothing suddenly felt too thick, and the breezy material no longer cooled your skin, but instead made it itch, and the back of your neck felt hot. He changed the positioning of your bed with a small flick of his wrist, in a swift motion. Slowly, your upper body rose to a sitting position while your legs stayed flat. This way, you could see what was happening.

Then you heard it, and suddenly, there was too much to say.

Unmistakably, there was thumping. Muffled thumping that seemed to echo around the room.

Aiden had big grin on his face. He met your eyes only for a moment before returning to the task literally in front of him. You realised he was concentrating hard on a small floating projection, a clear screen that showed all sorts of charts and figures. In the center of the clear screen there was a black rectangle that had something moving in it. Different shades of greys and white danced across the screen in pixelated motions but they all moved together, as if they were forming something whole.

"Is that...?" you asked softly. You couldn't get the words out, because your heart was in your throat. It was difficult to see, from the weird angle that you observed the screen in, but it couldn't have been anything else.

Just like when you were kids, he read your mind.

"Yes, y/n," he breathed softly. His fingers floated across the keyboard on the bedside table. which you suspected was somehow connected to Aiden's magical projection.

The perfect mix of fae magic and mortal engineering.

At last, Aiden spoke.

"That's the heartbeat."

***

It had been 2 weeks since that first ultrasound, and you were talking with Feyre about breaking the news to the rest of your friends. The two of you were sitting in the courtyard, the late afternoon sun casting its warm, friendly glow. You marveled at the beauty of the gardens a "Oh, I'm so excited for you! Your baby is going to be spoiled like crazy," your friend exclaimed fondly, a big grin on her face.

Hearing Feyre's enthusiasm calmed your nerves immensely, and you reached for your High Lady's hand. "I wish Az was here," you admitted, "if he was, I'd do something bigger. I think I'm just going to tell everyone at dinner."

Feyre's glance softened at the mention of your mate. "That sounds good, but y/n, I hate to mention this now but when are you going to tell Azriel?"

You bit your lip, averting eye contact. "I'm not sure, actually. Whenever's best, I suppose."

"You can be honest with me, y/n/n. I just think you should tell him."

"Of course I'm going to tell him."

"But your baby's going to be born before he gets back, surely you're not going to have him come home blind-" Feyre said insistently.

You started to get a little annoyed. "I will tell him, Feyre. He will not 'come home blind'."

But were you sure? Would Azriel even reply to your letters? Would he care enough to write more than his usual 5 sentences? A pain ran through your heart as you recalled the last time you wrote was about a month ago. He hadn't replied. You didn't want him to be distracted on the mission, or worse, hurt himself because he was worrying.

Feyre could read your expression. "Are you really thinking about lying to your mate? About your child. His child, y/n. It's Azriel's too."

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. "Gods, Feyre. You think I don't know that? Stop pushing this, it's my decision and if I want to leave it until he comes back... then that's on me." But deep down you knew she was right.

Your words just hung between you as the conversation ended. You didn't believe what you just said, and by the silence that fell, you could tell Feyre didn't either.

The two of you sat in your respective chairs and avoided eye contact, Feyre was fiddling with the sash on her dress, and you were looking into the sky, eyes squinting as you immediately regretted staring straight into the sun.

"Feyre, darling?" called Rhys' smooth voice. You glanced at your wristwatch, which indicated Feyre and Rhys' meeting was about to start. You sighed a little; you would have to apologise later.

"Here, Rhys!" Feyre quickly gathered her things but put a comforting hand on your shoulder as she passed. "Bye, y/n."

Then Rhys whisked Feyre away, leaving you alone in the courtyard.

You didn't want to keep sitting in the courtyard rethinking your conversation with Feyre. Or perhaps was it an argument? You quickly left the gardens as soon as the sun started setting, in hopes you would bump into another one of your friends. You walked towards the door to the main house and luckily, the moment you turned around after closing the door, there was Kai, gathering some items in a satchel, looking like he was about to leave.

You wondered if you should bother him as he looked busy, but before you could sneak off, it seemed that Kai used his big-brother senses because he turned around and spotted you.

"Y/n! My favourite person." He beamed, tucking strands of his golden hair behind his ears.

"I think Aiden might take some offense to that statement." You approached him smiling, yet slightly embarrassed he had almost caught you jumping over a couch.

"I'm sure he agrees with my sentiment." Your friend smiled.

"Going somewhere?"

"Just off to the Night Markets to buy a sheath for Aiden's present. It's a dagger, from my last mission overseas," He cocked his head slightly, as if trying to see if you were okay. "Would you like to join me?" Kai broke into a beaming smile. "We can get ice-cream."

You couldn't help grin as his words lit you up. The two of you used to always get ice-cream together, it was your thing. The ice-cream stores in Velaris changed their flavours daily, always a mix of aromatic spices and exotic fruits that somehow blended perfectly together. It was well-known amongst all your friends that Night Court ice-cream was one of your favourite things, and almost every birthday you got a tub of your favourite flavour, whatever it was. It reminded you of happier days, and some of your favourite memories consisted of you, laughing along with Kai over large cones of the sweet, icy treat.

"Really? I'd love to!" This is exactly what you needed to help you take your mind off your disagreement with Feyre. "I hope I'm not intruding though."

"You could never intrude. Besides, I could use another set of eyes. You've seen my wardrobe; I don't exactly choose the most stylish things." He bumped your shoulder affectionately.

You snickered. "That I have. Then you're lucky I took pity on you and offered my services to you."

Ever the drama queen, Kai lowered himself into a deep bow, "I thank you then, y/n."

Being with Kai had lifted your mood almost instantly. You had confided in him through your highs and lows, and when you had shown such intimate parts of yourself to another, it was easy to settle into comfortable companionship. He was like an older brother to you, one of your closest friends.

You watched Velaris' bustling marketplaces in awe as Kai soared through the air, his wings flapping. It had been a while since you had come out to see the signature Night Markets, but it was just as breathtaking as you remembered. There were crowds everywhere, and each store had twinkling lights. It was dark now, the light from each stall was illuminating the air around it, the mountains were shining a soft white from the snow, and you felt like you had returned home to the familiar sights, sounds and smells.

Kai led you to a few shops, and gods, it was lucky you were there. Somehow, he managed to pick out some of the strangest, weirdest designs that there were. It took almost 20 minutes of convincing before Kai discarded a sheath that was covered in ridiculous dyed fur that also had googly eyes stuck to the front, with eyebrows that jiggled when you removed the dagger.

"It's like an adorable fluffy animal!" He exclaimed.

"Kai, no. It looks like a mutilated toy rodent. I think I see bugs moving in the fur, and it smells like Cassian after training."

Kai whistled. "Harsh critic."

You shrugged, looping your arm through his to drag him back through the door. "I just saved your marriage, my friend."

Eventually you two of you picked a simple design. A sleek black design with silver buckles that was functional enough to store a pen or two, as well. Perfect for Aiden. Knowing him, he probably would use the sheath to store some of his equipment for operations, and the like.

"Thanks for helping me tonight," Kai smiled. "I owe you one."

"Don't mention it. All you ever need to owe me is some ice-cream." You almost jumped when you saw the old gelateria where the two of you frequented decades ago. Had it really been decades?

Kai seemed to be thinking the same thing because the moment the two of you sat down, he smiled, wistfully asking, "Do you remember the last time we came here?"

You hummed in thought, trying to come up with an answer. "I don't think I do. Must've been to celebrate something?"

Kai grinned. "No, not to celebrate. I remember," he started.

"Shocking how someone so old has a better memory than me." you smirked.

"Hush, y/n/n. Surely you remember, as it concerns your favourite person."

"My favourite person? So, not you then," you laughed.

"I'm wounded." Kai replied, deadpan. "No, anyway. I mean Azriel. You came to me after a big fight with Azzy."

You opened your mouth in shock. "I can't believe you still remember that!"

"Well, hard to forget," he said, dryly. "I had never seen you so upset." His expression turned pensive and worried, as if he was sensing the truth in your expression, which had turned from shocked to anxious with one sentence. He was sensing that maybe you weren't letting on exactly how saddened you were regarding the situation with Azriel. Of course, only Feyre and Aiden knew you were with child, and this factor contributed greatly.

"You know, because now you two are doing a lot more than just argue..." Malakai tried to lighten the mood, and for a second it worked. Then he did that stupid thing that mortals do; he made a "kissy face"... and then some.

Your eyes widened, but you had a big grin on your face. "Gods, Malakai! You did not just do that in public!" but your friend just smirked, innocently shrugging his shoulders. You wouldn't stay mad at him anyway. Never could.

The two of you finished your cones in silence.

"Let's walk around for a bit," Kai said, wiping his hands with a napkin.

"Okay, sure."

You and Kai walked behind the bustling marketplace to a lone bench where the two of you used to come all the time. It was your spot.

"I do have something to tell you, though."

"Oh yeah?" Kai looked as if he was trying to guess your news.

You took a breath in to steady yourself. "I'm telling you before most of the others... because I trust you. And I love you, you've always been..." another small inhale. "Maybe you can help me figure out what to do."

Kai swiveled so he was facing you more. "Of course," he smiled. "You know I'd do anything for you."

You smiled gratefully. "You may know that Azriel didn't really leave me on the best terms... Well, uh, he didn't leave me, specifically, you know, but I just mean that we'd argued before he left." You rambled. "A lot, actually. We argued a lot."

Kai put a comforting hand on your arm. "You don't have to tell me if you're not ready," he said gently, kindly.

Kai kindness overwhelmed you, but lately it had felt like Feyre was treating you a bit like a broken doll, and she was just waiting for you to finally crack. Being doted on wasn't a bad thing, but it felt suffocating especially now, and you felt Feyre's time was wasted when you realised that only one thing would make you feel better about this situation, you were too much a coward to do. It should've been easy, telling Azriel he was going to be a father. You were good at writing, letters especially. So why couldn't you tell Azriel?

Everything is just more complicated when love is involved.

You cleared your throat. "Sorry. I'm fine. I'm ready to talk about it, I promise."

"Okay," Kai nodded. "No pressure."

"I'mfourteenweekspregnantandAzrieldoesn'tknow." The words spilled out like a waterfall. A small brook, perhaps. All in one motion but in a low whisper. There was no going back now, but it seemed Kai hadn't heard your jumble of words.

"You're... what?"

"Pregnant. I'm 14 weeks pregnant and Az- Azriel doesn't know." you were dangerously close to tears, but you felt a million times better now that you had told someone else.

Kai was silent for a dangerously long time. Then his mouth curved into a small grin. "Wow, y/n. I'm so happy for you!" and then he clarified, upon seeing your slightly startled expression. "I know you've been wanting to start a family for a while now, and you're the most deserving person to have your dream come true." He took a deep breath in. "I'll admit it's difficult that Azriel doesn't know, but you're strong, and we can work through this together."

You had started to cry. "S-sorry, I'm happy too, I- I don't know what to do. I've been k-keeping it from you for so long, and I just don't know what to do." Your voice broke.

"You don't need to apologise, I get it. It's going to be difficult, y/n, but you don't need to do it alone."

"You've kept a pregnancy from Aiden before?" you sniffed.

He smiled softly, wiping a trickling tear. "No, but I know relationships take work. What you and Az are going through is only natural, and you're both the strongest people I know. I see the bond you two have, and it's like no other I've seen." He stretched over the table to wipe away a tear falling down your cheek. "It's beautiful, y/n. I know you, and I know Az. He will support you, and whatever you choose, so will I."

You sniffed again, wiping away more tears. Gods, there were a lot of tears on your face. Kai pulled a large, thick handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to you.

"Aiden makes me carry it around, the massive thing. A real inconvenience. However, I've been told it makes an excellent torniquet." the warrior shrugged.

You managed a laugh. "Thanks."

Kai's expression softened. "Are you happy?"

His question caught you by surprise. "I've been processing these part few weeks. We were fighting because just noticed Azriel got increasingly unenthusiastic about our dates. About me," you felt the lump in your throat as you spilled your heart out. "S-sometimes I feel the b-bond go cold. Since he's been gone I can barely feel it, Malakai. I have to reach oh-so-far for something that should be permanent. Something that should be natural, and easy."

Kai wrapped you up in a hug, and you rested your head on his shoulder.

You took a pause. "But am I happy? I think so. If I can work this out with Az, then I will be. Really happy." You smiled slightly at the thought.

Kai nodded knowingly.

"Looks like you've only gotten wiser with age," you noted, slightly sad. Where'd all the time gone?"

"I guess we've both just gotten busier these past few centuries. You were sorting out your... confusing friendship with Azriel," you let out a laugh at that. Confusing was certaintly one word you could use to describe the relationship you and Az had before mating. Kai continued. "Well, and then you found out you were mates, but I was busy training here while trying to keep my relationship from my parents."

Your smile dropped a little. "But they were at your wedding, are you guys still okay?"

"Thanks for your concern, but we're all good. It's just that when I was younger, I saw how the villagers treated my sister when she confessed to me she favoured females, and word got out. It was a miracle no one blabbed to my parents before she finally told them decades later," he smiled. "I'm lucky my family are so supportive."

"I have a pretty great family too," you squeezed his hand.

The two of you sat in silence for a beat, smiling.

"Wait, before you said '"most" of the others know about your pregnancy. Who else knows?" Kai asked after a moment.

"Well, Madja, obviously, and Feyre and Aiden."

"My Aiden? He kept this from me?" The Lieutenant's eyes looked like they were going to bug out of his head. Aiden was definitely about to receive a stern lecture about how his wedding vows promised no lies.

You laughed. "Well, smart guy, your Aiden is a healer, and I couldn't exactly go visit Madja because Rhys is always there on High Lord business, and Cass occasionally brings his soldiers there for checkups, you know this. Besides, Aiden's clinic is more private, and I like getting priority service," you replied, smug.

Kai sighed, "And here I was thinking that I was the only one getting that service. When you think you know someone." he tutted.

"Well, people surprise you." You couldn't help but bitterly think "Just like my mate did."

"But I know your news before Cass?" When you nodded, he did a celebratory fist pump. "I always knew I was your favourite. $5 for me, baby."

"Don't be silly, I love you Illyrian babies all equally. Wait, you guys bet on me?"

Kai snorted, choosing to ignore your latter comment, but the gleam in his bright blue eyes told you all you needed to know.

You just rolled your eyes. "When do you think I should tell the rest of our friends?"

Kai composed himself as he realised you were jumping back to serious conversation. He cleared his throat, and said, "Well, you want to tell them all together, right?"

When you nodded, he continued. "So, logically, unless you want to tell everyone while they're drunk playing board games, or drunk, dancing at Rita's, I'd say your best bet is at our group dinners, but you know, tell them early, so they're not too drunk." He gave a small smile.

"That's what I was thinking. Gods, when's the next dinner again?"

You counted what day of the week it was in your head. If you guys usually gathered for dinner on Fridays, but the Velaris Night Markets occurred on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays... but Thursdays were when Feyre and Rhys had their meetings (which you remembered Feyre had gone to that afternoon), it would mean that the next family dinner was...

"Tomorrow," Kai finished helpfully. "Friday."

"That's soon," you tried not to sound too panicked.

"Luckily you have me to help you then."

***

The Inner Circle sat around the grand dinner table in the beautifully adorned dining room of the Night Court. The soft glow of candlelight danced on their faces, creating an atmosphere of warmth and camaraderie. Feyre and Rhysand were engaged in a lighthearted banter, their eyes filled with affection, while Mor, Amren, and Cassian laughed along, their spirits high. Nesta had her hand on Cassian's shoulder, and Elain was talking with Nuala. Aiden and Kai were sitting across from you, Kai's eyes trying to meet your own. Tonight would be the big night.

As the conversation lulled, your heart pounded in your chest, your hands clammy with nerves. Taking a deep breath, you gathered your courage, your voice slightly shaky but resolute, and cleared your throat to gain everyone's attention. Feyre's eyes met yours with a flash of concern, then understanding. You sent her an unsure smile and nodded slightly, notifying her that you were ready to share the news with your family.

"I... um, I have something important to share with all of you," you began, your eyes flickering with a mix of vulnerability and determination. You looked towards Kai and Aiden; both of them looked ecstatic, and you could tell Kai was reigning in his emotions. The room fell into an expectant silence as every member of the Inner Circle turned their gaze towards you, their expressions a blend of curiosity and concern.

Your eyes darted around the table, locking with each person's gaze, drawing strength from their unwavering support. You continued, "I'm pregnant."

The room erupted in a cacophony of reactions. Cassian's jaw dropped; a half-chewed bite of food forgotten in his mouth. Rhysand, startled by the unexpected news, coughed and choked on his wine, while Feyre, caught between annoyance and concern, hit his shoulder. She caught your eye and sent you a look that apologised for Rhys' behaviour.

"He doesn't mean it like that!" she mouthed. For the first time in your life, you hoped your expression betrayed your thoughts. "I'm sorry", you were trying to convey. "I love you". Feyre nodded once and smiled, and you knew she understood.

Mor was the first one to say something. She let out an excited gasp, clapping her hands together. "Y/n, that's amazing! You're going to be a wonderful mother," she exclaimed, her eyes shining with genuine joy.

You felt everyone else's eyes on you. Amren had narrowed her eyes, and Varian was looking quite uncomfortable. Oh dear.

You felt a bittersweet mixture of relief and apprehension wash over you as you glanced around the table, searching for comfort amidst the tumultuous sea of emotions. Everyone looked pleased though, it seemed the extra 5 seconds of processing time had done wonders. Even Amren had a slight smile on her face now, and Varian looked less... strange.

Rhys, having gathered himself now, spoke next, a beaming smile on his face. "I'm so happy for you, y/n! You and Azriel deserve this. How'd he take the news?"

You hesitated, your eyes dropping to your plate, tracing the intricate patterns etched onto the fine China. You could feel the glances of Feyre, Aiden and Kai on you.

"I... uh.... haven't told him yet," and then there was silence in the room again.

The weight of your words was sinking in for your friends.

"I don't want to get into it now, and- and ruin our evening," you said, voice shaking slightly. Perhaps you'd already ruined the evening, if the heavy silence was any indication. "But we haven't exactly been on the best terms lately. We were fighting all up until he left, and I- I can barely feel the bond anymore. He hasn't written me back in a month.

With that bomb dropped, you looked up to the ceiling, blinking away tears.

"I'm scared."

Cassian, recovering from his initial shock, reached across the table, placing a comforting hand on your trembling one. "We're here for you, y/n," he reassured you, his voice filled with sincerity and warmth. "And when Az comes back, we'll figure it out together. You won't be alone in this. I can't believe it. You're pregnant." He finished with a joyous laugh.

Aiden chimed in, "We love you, y/n. As long as we're here, you don't have to do anything alone."

"You have the best support system possible; one that has been formed through years of hardship. No bond is stronger than this group bond, y/n." Kai continued. "Your pregnancy will be a beautiful thing."

Nesta spoke up next. "You can count on us for anything, y/n/n. I know you must have concerns, but now you don't have to carry them alone." You sent her a grateful smile, to which she returned.

"It'll fly by, the 10 months. Enjoy the process. Plus, you'll look great with the pregnancy glow." Feyre laughed.

Then Elain cleared her throat - daintily, if that was possible. "I'm happy for you too, y/n. Your child is lucky to have you as a mother, and... I know we're not too close, but you can count on me." She smiled; her cheeks rosy as all the attention turned to her.

You were in shock. That was the most you'd ever heard Elain speak, especially in front of everyone. You reached across the table and lightly put your hand on hers.

Surprisingly, Amren said, "You're in capable hands, y/n. It'll be such a joy having another Nyx around." The table chuckled at her sarcasm, but you knew she meant it with no malice.

"That means more than you could know. Thank you, everyone."

"You know how Azriel is. He may draw back, but he is always there for the ones he loves and trust me when I say you're on the top of his list." Mor said. "I don't know how he'll react to the news,"

Your smile dropped a little. Thanks for the confidence boost, Mor.

"But I know that every relationship has its ups and downs. You've been there for him since the day you arrived, and he's been there for you, too. I can promise you that this experience will only help the two of you grow closer." Mor's words were sincere.

As the Inner Circle rallied around you, offering support, reassurance, and a safe space to share your fears and uncertainties, you felt a flicker of hope ignite within you. Even Varian had bowed his head in respect. In that moment, you realized that you were not alone in your journey. With your loved ones by your side, you knew you had the strength and resilience to face whatever lay ahead. When the time came to reveal the news to Azriel, they would help you navigate the delicate path, giving you the support and courage, you needed.

And so, amidst the clinking of cutlery, the sound of Feyre's exasperated sigh as Cerridwen chased after Nyx (who'd run into the room looking for his mother), and the warm laughter that filled the House of Wind's dining room, you embraced the love and acceptance that you had received, finding solace in the knowledge that no matter the challenges you faced, you would never have to face them alone.

You tugged on the bond once again. Once. Twice.

And then you felt it. A pull from Azriel. Stronger than you'd felt in months.

***

"You guys really didn't have to plan all this," you smiled fondly at your friends, who insisted on throwing you a baby shower. Feyre later told you that she spent almost an hour explaining the mortal concept to Amren and Cassian, the latter thinking it was about hygiene. It had almost been 3 weeks since you told your friends at that fateful dinner, and they had embraced your news with love and kindness, just as Aiden, Feyre and Kai all insisted they would.

"Nonsense, y/n. You deserve the best baby bath achievable." Cassian beamed.

"Shower, Cassian." Feyre reminded him.

"I just showered," Cassian rolled his eyes. Nesta slapped his shoulder, and he quickly stopped his jokes when she gave him a kiss. You suppressed a snicker as you watched her. Cassian looked at her so lovingly, and Nesta, however annoyed she may be, always returned that look with equal fierceness.

You looked to your High Lord and Lady. Rhysand was sitting in a plush armchair, and Feyre was perched on his lap, his hand draped across her waist, fingers fiddling with a loose thread on her cream sweater. Nyx's addition to their family had only made them closer, and you could only pray that your little one could provide the same effect.

It was obvious to a total fool that Varian was irrevocably in love with Amren. His gaze was constantly on her, his eyes soft and longing, as if he knew something everyone else didn't. Amren rarely shared personal stories with the Inner Circle, but maybe she'd told the prince of Adriata something she hadn't yet shared with everyone else. You had a feeling Amren was going to find her eternal happiness with him. After all, he was here casually lounging with the Night Court's elite Inner Circle, wasn't he?

Then you looked to the pile of presents that your closest friends had prepared for you. The pink and blue streamers your friends had pinned around the room. Feyre said she was incorporating another tradition into this baby shower, something called a 'gender reveal', that she said was a celebration where loved ones of the mother gathered so she could make the gender of her child known. The room laughed as Rhys recited some adorable thing Nyx had done that morning, and for a second you were just lost in the haze. These wonderful people had chosen to spend time with you, and all vowed to support you.

The baby shower and gender reveal passed in a blur. It was just a mess of happy memories. You opened and accepted everyone's gifts (even the sharp "toy" Amren had gifted for "teething purposes". Perhaps Azriel would like that one.), and Nuala, Cerridwen and Elain had done an amazing job with the cake, which had either pink or blue frosting inside.

Since you wanted Aiden to keep the gender a secret, you had no idea what colour was in the cake either, and you were equal parts excited yet slightly nervous. If you thought hearing your baby's heartbeat made it real, celebrating this moment with your friends made it unreal. This was truly, really, definitely, happening.

You cut into the cake and it was...

"Pink!" you exclaimed. "Pink! She's a girl!"

Your friends whooped and cheered, Feyre rushed up to hug you, and Cassian immediately bobbed down to your stomach.

"A baby girl! Aw," he cooed. "Uncle Cass is going to spoil you!"

You laughed at Cassian, but he had lifted the mood tremendously. You couldn't believe it. You were having a girl, and you knew she would be perfect.

After the celebrations, Kai came and found you flipping through a photo album. It had detailed most of your and Azriel's relationship, and now there was a chapter all about your pregnancy.

"Thinking about him?" Malakai asked.

You smiled sadly, thinking about the huge milestone you had just celebrated without him. "I can't help it. I miss my mate." and sent another tug down the bond.

This time, it wasn't reciprocated. Something felt different, this time. You almost thought you heard a cry of pain.

***

“You know, maybe it would help to get out of here a little,” Cassian said one day at training. You were in the middle of sparring with him and Nesta, sweat dripping down your face, but you could tell they were going easy since the birth of your daughter only 5 weeks prior.

"Yeah, y/n,” Nesta smiled as she thrusted the dagger upward. "No harm in a holiday, you work so hard."

You stopped, mid-jab into where Cassian's shoulder would've been as you considered the idea. You hadn't left the Night Court for leisure in over three decades, and a small part of you did long to explore the other courts. Back when you and Az still talked of the future, the two of you had dreamed of holidaying in all the seven courts.

>>>>

"Do you ever think of the future?" you asked, playing with your mate's hair. Azriel paused his reading and thought.

He hummed softly, replying, "Of course, one with you."

You smiled, hands resuming their tousling of Azriel's hair, "I think one day I would like to travel. See all the places that the stories told me about when I was younger."

"That sounds perfect," Azriel replied, now fully sitting up and facing you. His book was discarded, and his hands were drifting up and down your arms. "I am content everywhere with you, but I hear the Winter and Summer courts are especially beautiful year-round."

You made a noise of happiness. "How much wine do you think we would need to buy Rhys for him to gift us one of his luxurious holiday homes in the Winter Court?"

Azriel's laugh ricocheted through the empty house, "My darling mate, I bet it's more wine than we can afford."

You laughed softly, "Well, I guess we better start saving. When I mend relations with Spring and Autumn, we must visit all the courts! Oh, just imagine it, Az."

Azriel's eyes softened. "Have I ever told you how much I admire you?"

You tilt your head, "You tell me every day, Az, but I think I admire you more." you said in a whisper, as if it were a secret, but how could it ever be, with a mate like Azriel?

Azriel smiled but shook his head. "Your job is amazing, y/n. Co-ordinating all these alliances, responding to our people's concerns and solving their problems. Velaris would really be nowhere without you."

You blush under Azriel's heated gaze, and say, "Well, someone's got to make the bribe money for Rhys' wine."

Azriel laughed deeply, the sound warming your soul. "Well, good thing I make up for my immense lack of income with other skills."

You watched the corner of Azriel's mouth curl up in a smirk. "Wouldn't you agree, my love? Or would you like a reminder?"

>>>>>>>>

When you named your daughter, you cried.

Cerise. Cerise Beatrice Singer.

Beatrice was your mother's name. A mortal name. She was half fae, as her mother was mortal. The courts gossiped for your entire childhood, from when you were six up until at least seventeen. They didn't even stop when she died. Seventeen was the year where you couldn't take it anymore. The year you finally left your 'family' and fled into the centre of Prythian. You travelled around from court to court for 2 years until one day, you arrived in the Night Court.

The people of your old village called her horrible names. They'd hiss at your mother as she walked across the street, throw all sorts of things at her. They were horrified that a mortal walked the streets of Prythian freely, no matter the fact she had never actually been in the Mortal Lands. No matter the fact she grew up the same as them. No matter the fact that she learnt the same faerie customs in the same faerie schools. No matter the fact that she grew up eating faerie food and wearing faerie-produced clothing.

No matter any of that.

Once, there was a rumour that you heard at school. People were saying your mother used witchcraft to lure herself a man "as great as that scum's father". You hid behind a wall, eavesdropping. The voices were muffled, the pitch all weird, but it was clear they were talking about you. Aiden was there with you. When he saw you were on the verge of tears, he told you to cover your ears and he hugged you tight. But even his hugs were never as tight as your mother's.

You are remembering thinking that you had never heard such foul language coming from 11-year-old children. You had dared a peek into the classroom, and when you saw the towering figures huddled, you realised. It was the teachers. The teachers using slurs and the teachers belittling the one woman who actually cared about you. About everything.

Decades from that day you thought of your past. You thought that, maybe it was true that once, your father had felt love for her. Beatrice bore him 4 children, after all. You knew your mother married him soon after meeting, and when she would brush your hair, back when you were young and the world was simple, she would tell you stories about how he courted her. Oh, how he courted her. Before the age of eight you used to wish for a love story like theirs. But as you grew up, it was plain to see that he felt nothing for her. In the end, one of your father's drunken rages had led to her death, and she died protecting you.

She cared for you when no one else did, in your family. Not your older siblings, and certainly not your father.

When you named your daughter, you cried.

Love and passion. That's what her name meant.

You were going to make sure love was all she felt from her family. Cerise was going to grow up with love. You loved her, your true family loved her, and Azriel would love her. You were sure.

Her raven hair was just like his, her eyes were like his too. Sometimes a piercing green, sometimes a calming brown. Beautiful, just like her father. She had your mouth though; Feyre had told you. When she smiled it was like the sun brightening the sky after a storm, and you had never seen anything better. She loved to laugh, her small eyes crinkling at the corners, her nose twitching. She was beautiful.

Cerise, she had wings. Small, baby Illyrian wings, but wings none the less. Wings like Azriel. Not wings like your father, but wings like Azriel. Majestic and powerful, with the ability to give what you had lacked; freedom.

>>>>>>>>

It had almost been 9 months since you told your friends at that fateful dinner, and they had spared no expense, treating you and Cerise like royalty.

Feyre could tell you were drained from your new motherly duties and said she would be happy to take care of your daughter for as long as you needed, but you had refused her offer.

"Oh no, Feyre, that's so kind," you smiled gratefully at your friend. "It's okay though, I will pick a place suitable for the both of us."

You had picked up Cerise from eager Auntie Mor's that morning and had decided. It was time for a holiday.

Feyre's eyes were scanning your face, waiting to pounce on any sign of hesitation. "Besides," you continued. "You have Nyx to think about!"

Upon hearing her son's name, Feyre beamed. "Yes! Oh y/n, I am so excited to have them grow up together." Her eyes softened. "It may seem hard now, but I know you'll be a great mother."

You reached for your friend and pulled her into a hug. "Thank you, Feyre. I learn from the best."

When you pulled back Feyre grasped your hands, grinning excitedly. "Now for the fun part. Let's pick a holiday destination; where are we sending you!"

Rhys walked in about an hour after you and Feyre decided to research to find Prythian's best Court for a vacation.

"How about the Day Court?" He suggested. "Helion loves you, and I'm sure both you and your daughter would enjoy the sunshine."

You looked at Feyre who was beaming.

"That sounds perfect."

That's how you ended up holding your daughter, watching as Helion - ever the show-off - had insisted you fly to the Day Court in his finest white carriage, led by the horses with manes of flame. When Rhys had heard about this plan, he just rolled his eyes, telling you that once, he had banned Helion from coming into the Night Court in that carriage, but Helion's loophole was to take you out of the Night Court in it.

"Go easy on the flying, okay? You have a post-partum mother and a baby on board," you said to Helion, only half-joking.

Helion raised one dark eyebrow at you in reply. "Of course. I promise you a mellow ride." He smiled and turned his attention back to his horses. A quick tug on the reigns from Helion, and the three of you were gone.

@ladyescapism 💗💗

edit: I ONLY JUST REALISED I DONT USE READ MORE OMLLLL

edit 2: WEDDING VOWELS LMFAO

[olderjustneverwiser]

Give Me Love, I'll Put My Heart in It (Steve Harrington)

images aren't mine

Two best friends, four seasons, one night. A mistake and finding the way back to one another. Yet another friends-to-lovers fic and literally no one is surprised. WC: 8K.

Warnings: mentions of loss of virginity, sex is alluded to but not explicit, lots of Steve Thoughts, drinking way too much. Literally so much pining, just two oblivious idiots in love.

This fic is heavily based on 'An Evening I Will Not Forget/Furthest Thing' by Dermot Kennedy, and lyrics from the song are at the beginning of each part.

Masterlist

-

I'm always thinkin' summertime with the bikes out

Pushin' our luck, gettin' wiped out

Days with nothin’ but laughin’ loud

When Steve thinks about summertime, he thinks about sweltering bike rides, cooling off in the pool, and sleepovers on bedroom floors. Sharing sleeping bags and candy stashes and secrets. Nothing was too sacred, not if it was with you  

He thinks about meeting you when you were kids. He knew of you because you were in the same class as him but didn't really know you, too engrossed in his existing friends and action figures to really pay attention to anyone else. But then one summer day he saw you, riding your bike down his street and looking like you were having way more fun than he was. You asked him if he wanted to ride to the quarry with you, and that was that.

One bike ride turned into two, and after learning that you lived just down the street from one another, you were inseparable. The two of you rode to the arcade, the quarry, into the woods, anywhere your little legs could take you until the sun would start to set and your parents expected you home. It didn't matter where you ended up, whether one of you wiped out while racing the other. The skinned knees and hurt pride was worth it because he had you, and that's all that mattered.

He thinks about summer days spent in the pool; cooling off in the hot Hawkins afternoons. He thinks about games of Marco Polo with all of his friends, playing treasure dive when it was just the two of you. Always seeking you out because somewhere between biking in the Indiana sun and splash fights, you had become his best friend. 

And as the days turned to night and you both grew too exhausted from the sun, the sleeping bags would be rolled out and you would pretend that you were far away from Hawkins, away from his nanny and the house that was always too empty until sleep inevitably took you both. These are the things Steve thinks about when he thinks about summer. Not loud parties or college tours or summer jobs. Not the loneliness he'd feel when his parents would leave yet again. No, these are the memories that come to his mind, memories he made with you.

Those were always the best. Those were the ones that made his heart feel a little lighter.

It didn’t matter how many summers passed; how old the both of you got or who he happened to be sleeping with for those few months, his mind was brought back to the smell of chlorine and the wind in his face, in your hair. It’s no surprise, really. Those memories have been the highlight of his summers for as long as he can remember. 

Of course, the summers changed as you got older, but the sentiments always stayed the same. Bike rides turned into long drives in Steve’s car; the destination sometimes unknown, a surprise even to the both of you. Kool-Aid by the pool became diluted with vodka since no parents were around to tell you different and the smell of smoke lingered alongside chlorine and sunscreen. As you got older you and Steve stopped trying to pretend that the floor of his bedroom was comfortable enough to sleep on; Steve happily sharing his bed instead of just his blankets. You had both grown over the years and his bed didn’t feel quite as big as it used to but neither of you really cared. The slightly cramped space only gave you both the excuse to lay a little closer to one another. 

Not like either of you really minded. 

Somewhere near the end of his teen years, between early morning drives and late nights in his bedroom, Steve noticed things. His eyes starting to linger on your face a little longer, his hands seeking out yours in the pool. He noticed how touches always seemed to last a little too long to be just friendly and how his heart pounded when some punk would flirt with you. At first he brushed it off, he was seventeen and just chalked it up to possessiveness towards his best friend. Then time passed and Jonathan Byers beat a little ego out of him and Steve realized that, oh, what he had been feeling was a crush. Not young lust, not just want for another body or bragging rights, but he wanted you. All of you. 

You and him never changed through the years, though. Not really, not in a way you both thought of. Both wished for, even though the other was totally oblivious. 

Steve remembers a day last summer, the two of you hanging out like you always did when you were both off from work and the kids weren’t hounding Steve to drive them all over Hawkins. The day was spent in his pool; his empty house gave you both the freedom to be as loud and obnoxious as you wanted, to drink and smoke without any caring parents.

He remembers playing music through a boombox; smiling as you sang along to ’American Girl.’  He thinks of how you slipped off your dress, bathing suit already on and the skin you displayed wasn’t anything he hadn't seen of you before, but it made his stare linger for reasons he still didn't understand. The day was perfect; neither of you had a care in the world for a while and then at one point when the sun was just beginning to set for the night, he remembers turning to look at you and he almost forgot to breathe.

The colors of the setting sun surrounded you over the trees, shades of purple, blue, orange, and red all around and they somehow made your face glow. You turned to him with a smile, all teeth and wide eyes and pure joy and Steve swore you were perfect. He could finally put a word to the confusing, complicated feelings that had been swirling in his head for the past few years. It was love. He fucking loved his best friend.

He almost made a move, right then and there.

He wasn't King Steve anymore, though. You were both older, somewhat wiser. He didn't act like every girl was his anymore because he didn’t want just any girl; hadn’t for years. Besides, you were his best friend and it's not like you had ever acted like you wanted to be anything other than that. So, he held back. Kept the feelings he knew he had locked away deep in his chest because it was better that way. He had always been a shitty boyfriend in the past, anyway, and you didn't deserve that. Steve had always been a good friend, though, so he chose to keep things just the way they were because you had him, he had you, and that was good enough. You still held his arm as he led you back inside, still laid next to him in his too-small bed that night. Still was his person, just like you had always been. That never changed.

But as everyone knows, summer always has to end. Days get shorter, nights a little cooler and not everything stays the same forever. 

-

What's important is this evening I will not forget

Purple, blue, orange, red. These colors of feelin’

Autumn flowed into Hawkins quickly, leaves turning different shades of red and yellow in September and temperatures dropping in the first week of October. It brought fewer pool parties and movie nights since the kids were going to football games and studying more. Robin and Vickie had recently moved into an apartment together, and Eddie's band had started to book more and more gigs, which left you and Steve alone more often than not.

It's not like he minded, not at all. He loved his friends more than his own family, but you were special and he'd pick time with you over time with anyone else, every time. 

Which brought the both of you to tonight, Rocky Horror playing and you two on the couch in the den. A bottle of cheap wine shared between you and your legs resting on his lap. It was comfortable, the kind of night that you both loved. You had stolen one of his cardigans earlier; the chill outside had found its way in after the sun had gone down for the night and you had slipped on the thick material without even asking, knowing Steve wouldn't mind.

 He loved seeing you in them, anyway.

"I totally had the hots for Janet when I first watched this," Steve said as 'The Sword of Damocles' played through the TV. "Pretty sure ‘Touch Me’ was like, my first sexual awakening or something."

"Wow, that explains so much about you," you teased.

"Oh shut up," Steve tickled your leg, careful not to make you spill your drink. "She's a super hot girl singing about wanting to get dirty and lose her virginity, how could twelve-year-old me not be changed by that?" You muttered something about how crass he could be, though your smile told him that you really didn’t care.

"I mean, I probably shouldn't have watched this when I was that young. Gave me a pretty fucked up idea how my first time would go, y'know?" Steve expected some snarky retort about the workings of the male psyche or something, but he didn't get it. 

"I, uh, wouldn't know actually," you said shyly, running your finger over the rim of your glass. "Don’t really have a good frame of reference for that sorta thing."

Steve almost asked what you meant, but then understanding washed over him. He couldn't help but sputter and the almost spit-take would have been funny if it was under different circumstances. If it wasn't at your expense. "You- you've never had sex?"

He didn’t mean the question in any sort of mean way of course; he was genuinely just surprised by your admission. Though the way you rolled your eyes and the blush that creeped up your neck told him that you definitely took it that way. "I mean, have you ever heard me talk about having sex?"

"How did I not know this? We're best friends!"

"It's not exactly something I broadcast. Hello Hawkins, twenty-two year old virgin here."

Steve hated how you said the word with a sneer, like it was something awful. Hated how he definitely made it worse. "Come on, don't say it like that. Sorry if I made you feel bad; guess I figured you had done it and were just, I don’t know, being a lady or something."

You huffed, "I mean, it's not like I'm a prude. I've done stuff, I just never wanted to have sex with guys in high school, y'know? Most of them were gross. But after we graduated I just wanted to get it over with, so I went out with Kevin Murphy-"

"That's why you dated that asshole?" Steve interjected.

"I thought he'd be happy to do it!” You continued. “But he left when I told him I was a virgin, as if sleeping with me would make me wanna marry his dumb ass or something. I thought stupid boys liked innocent girls? I remember you bragging about how you were Nancy's first for days."

"Don't remind me how much of an dick I was-"

"But then I dated Matt from the swim team, and he was a little too into the whole thing, so dumped him. Then there was Ralphie but he was just a creep and after that I guess I just gave up. I didn’t realize how hard it'd be to find a guy to fuck me and not be weird about it."

Steve hated how sad you sounded after your confession. He genuinely was shocked by it; he had been too busy with his own sex life to really pay attention to yours when he was younger. But now he felt like an asshole for even bringing it up and he wanted to turn back the time; shove the words back in his mouth. He wanted to make it better.

"I could be the one, if y'want," the words left Steve before he could think better of them, before he could even think through them and they shocked him almost as much as they seemed to shock you, if your wide eyes and slack jaw were anything to go by. 

"You drunk already, Steve?" You asked, a slight laugh at the end of your question to try to make light of the situation and part of Steve wished he was a little too drunk at the moment. He wished he could blame the offer on too many drinks so the two of you could laugh it off, forget about it in the morning. 

The truth was that Steve was as sober as he could be. The question had flowed from his lips too easily because if he was being honest, he had thought about that for too long. He has wanted you to be his for years, but he lost his nerve and gained popularity and suddenly he was dating Kathy, then Nancy, then Brenda. Sleeping with other girls in between just because he could. He realized you deserved better than he could offer you. You were so much more than just a friend but still not what Steve wanted, not how he wished things could be between the two of you but even after every failed relationship, he never made a move. Never risked ruining the best fucking thing he'd ever had because if he just had you as his closest friend, well, that would have to be good enough. 

That didn’t mean he couldn’t do this for you, though.

"Not drunk, trust me." He replied. "Just thinking."

Your expression was completely unreadable as your eyes bore into his. Steve couldn't tell if you wanted to agree or run for the hills or slap him for even suggesting such a thing. Eventually you responded, and he thought a nice slap from you would have hurt less.

"I don't wanna be a pity fuck, Steve."

And fuck, those words cut him like a knife because how could you think that's what you would mean to him? How could you think that he would just fuck you and that's all?

Steve wetted his lips, planning his words carefully this time, "You know it wouldn't be like that. It's just, this way your first time would be with someone who-" Someone who loves you.

"Someone who cares about you. And it's not like I wouldn't get anything out of it," he added with a grin to attempt to hide how much he was freaking out inside. He thought he saw the blush on your cheeks deepen even more if that were possible and you appeared to be actually considering his offer. 

For some reason, it terrified him.

"If you're uncomfortable you can say no, obviously I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do and even if we'd start and you'd wanna stop I would-"

"Okay." You said, almost a whisper, and Steve swore he felt the air leave his lungs. Because he had wanted this since he was a teenager with too many hormones and not enough life experience to know what his feelings for you meant just yet. He had thought about you and him together like this far more times than he’d care to admit and the fact that you just accepted his offer, just like that, damn near brought him to his knees.

"Okay?" Steve clarified, making sure he heard right, hadn't imagined it.

"Yeah," you nodded, "Yeah, I know you'll take care of me."

And yes, he would. No matter what. 

Some sort of silent understanding of tonight passed through the air between you. He grabbed your hand, blankets and half-empty glasses long forgotten as he led you through the hallway and up the stairs to his bedroom. Steve could feel the pound of his heart, the blood rushing in his ears and he wondered if he should say something before you both went through with this. Should he tell you that he's loved you for years, and that this would mean so much more to him than just helping out a friend? Does he tell you that he wants you to be his after this, too? 

But before he could think about it any further the two of you got to his room, still comforting but there was a new feeling in the air now. The soft light from his bedside lamp illuminated your skin, you were looking at him with those eyes and he knew that he was a fucking goner. 

You looked like you wanted to say something, your hands twisting in his cardigan as you worried your bottom lip. Clearly nervous and thinking your question over in your head before you spoke, "This isn't gonna change things between us, right?"

Steve wanted to say that they would. He wanted to tell you that he's wanted change for as long as he could remember, and that he's wondered if you wanted it, too. He wanted to say that this could change everything, and wouldn't that be wonderful? He wanted to say that he was almost as nervous as you undoubtedly were because he thought you were perfect, wanted this to be perfect and that this didn't have to be the only time. 

He didn't say any of those things, though. Didn’t want to overstep so instead he settled on, "Not if we don't want it to."

You nodded, slowly, thinking his response over. He wondered if your silence was a sign; if your hesitation meant that you shouldn't do this. 

“Hey,” Steve took your hands in his and he sat on the bed, meeting your eye level. “What're you thinkin' about, huh?”

Shaking your head, you offered him that small smile of yours that he secretly loved. "Nothing, just nervous I guess."

"We don't have to do anything," he started but you shook your head, assured him that you wanted this, wanted him. Then your hands were on his chest and there was a pleading look in your eye and you were asking if you could kiss him. It was like you couldn't wait any longer. Like you had waited a lifetime for this opportunity.

He wondered if you had, just like him. 

Only a second passed before he whispered to you that of course you could, and then you were kissing him. It was soft, testing, just the push of your lips on his and it was everything. His blood rushed and he wondered if you felt the thump of his heart because how long had he waited for this? Wished for it?

You ended it too soon but he couldn't help but bring a hand to your cheek and pull you back in, just for one more because for all he knew, this would be the only time. He wanted to remember how you tasted, like sugar and sunlight and he didn't want it to end. Not yet. 

“Sure about this?” he asked once he managed to pull away. Just to make absolutely sure that this was okay; that you really wanted him.

You just nodded, cheeks flushed and hands gripping the soft material of his sweater. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

The night was a blur after that. Steve willed time to slow just for that night, just a little while but the better things in life always pass too fast and this was no different. Still, he was determined to remember every detail about it. Soft sweaters and tee shirts being shrugged off, thrown somewhere in the room and hands touching bare skin. Kisses that Steve knew he would never have enough of. Your sigh that tickled his mouth as his hand grazed your hip bone and then even lower, and the way you sounded when he entered you, gasping and asking for more, chest heaving and fingers leaving little marks on his shoulders as you came. 

He wanted to remember it all because it had never felt like this before. 

Steve expected the awkwardness to come as you both cleaned up or brushed your teeth side by side at his sink, but it never came. Not even when he asked if you were okay did the conversation feel different than any other you'd usually have. It felt normal after, as if having sex with your best friend was something the two of you always did. When you both crawled into Steve's bed and flicked off the lamp, surrounded by darkness and the silence of the night, the shift in your friendship he'd half expected didn't surface. The night was quiet and calm like it always was. 

It felt like a calm before a storm and neither of you were prepared.

-

Bittersweet celebrations, I know I can't change what happened

Things changed, as they inevitably would. 

At least, they didn’t at first. Steve still woke up before you the morning after, like he always did whenever you spent the night. Still watched as sunlight filled the room and woke you from your slumber slowly. He still thought about waking you up with a good morning kiss; one that he could pour all of his feelings and wants into but he didn't, allowing the sunlight to kiss you awake instead. 

You still shrugged on one of Steve's sweaters instead of your own, always finding comfort in the way it smelled like his shampoo and cologne. The two of you still shared breakfast at his dining table, the shy smile you wore and marks above your collarbone the only indications that something different had happened last night. 

Steve wondered if he should bring it up; if he should ask if you were still okay or if you wanted to talk about it. He wondered if this would eventually change things, if something would finally come out of this.

He wondered if your lips still burned like his did. If you still felt his hands on you because he still felt yours. 

But he kept quiet because he didn't know what to say. His brain told him that if you had wanted to talk about it, you would have brought it up yourself and before either of you knew, it was time for you to leave for your shift at work. So you left, hair still slightly mused from sleep and his sweater around your body. You loitered at his front door for a second, seemingly wanting something that he couldn't comprehend but after a beat, he let you leave.

He should have said something because everything changed after that.

Things were fine at first. Steve still saw you daily. You still made the same jokes and shared snacks on his couch during movie nights. Still rested your head on his shoulder when the hour got too late and you could barely stay awake. Days passed and you never talked about it, almost like that night never even happened. Steve kept thinking that he should bring it up, but the fact that you so pointedly did not bring it up told him that he probably shouldn't, right?

He wanted to, though. He wanted to so badly because he couldn’t stop thinking about how you felt against him that night. 

If he thought he had it bad before, it was nothing compared to how his hands ached to link with yours when you walked next to him on the sidewalk. He wanted to grab you and kiss you again, not satisfied with the sample he’d gotten that night. You never asked him for it again, though, so he kept quiet, kept everything to himself. Steve thought he saw it in your eyes a few times; a silent plea whenever the two of you were together. You’d cuddle all close next to him on the couch, flash him a smile and for a split second he’d think about closing the gap, thinking that you were going to do it, but you never did. The two of you stayed on the side of friendship, like always. 

Steve noticed a shift, seemingly out of nowhere. You stopped linking your hands through his in the car, jokes that once made you laugh only earned him a smile and you didn't ask to borrow his cardigans anymore. Then, you didn't come around as much.

You started visiting him at work less and less. Thanksgiving lunch with your parents was strained, more and more nights were spent without you and before Steve knew it, autumn had turned into winter and you were turning just as cold towards him. 

You didn't go Christmas shopping with him like you had done every year prior. Hellfire nights at Eddie's somehow started to feel lonely as you opted to sit on the opposite side of the couch instead of curled into his side. Watching the kids play from the sidelines, keeping a safe distance. 

You'd never done that before and Steve didn’t know how to navigate this. 

Thankfully, you still came to his house for New Year's Eve. It had become somewhat of a tradition for everyone to come over to celebrate the holiday, but he had a hunch that you only came to see Robin and the kids. 

It stung, but he'd take it. It had been too long since he'd seen you. 

The night started out like it always did, Eddie and the kids talking D&D or Lord of the Rings by the outdoor firepit, Nancy and Jonathan off in their little area by the pool together, Vicki talking Steve's head off while you and Robin caught up on the porch.

The only change was you, who hadn't spoken a word to Steve the whole damn night. You, who had shown up in your own thick sweater instead of stealing one of Steve’s and opting for his liquor cabinet rather than him.

He wondered if you were embarrassed by what the two of you had done or if you regretted it. He had a haunting feeling that you did because he was starting to regret it himself. He didn't regret what happened,  exactly, he would never regret that but he hated what happened after. If he had known that night would ruin the best friendship he'd ever had he never would have made that stupid fucking suggestion. 

What was done was done, though. He couldn’t change it.

As the hour grew later the sparklers and poppers came out, Eddie broke out the s’mores, and his special blend mingled with the smell of gunpowder. Music and laughter was in the air and Steve couldn't help but smile at the scene, the people closest to him having the time of their lives just by all being together to celebrate the end of another year. 

Well, all except you, it seemed.

You were no longer with Robin, and Steve didn't see you among the group of younger ones. He almost panicked as he looked around the yard and didn't see you, but his eyes caught a shape in the living room window. 

You were inside, alone. Away from your friends and away from him. 

Steve left to go inside and check on you, deciding that he missed his best friend too much and fuck, enough was enough, when he was cornered by none other than Dustin Henderson before he could even make it to the porch. 

"What happened?" He asked Steve, no preamble or clarification needed for him to understand his question. 

Dustin didn't need to know that, though. 

"What're you talkin' about?" 

"Don't play dumb, Steve. You know exactly what I'm asking. The two of you were joined at the hip and now you haven't talked all night! What. Happened."

Steve sighed, cursing his friend and his never ending curiosity. "We're fine, alright? Look, even if something did happen, you think I'd tell you?"

Dustin narrowed his eyes, “Do you really think I’m that stupid, Steve? Do you think any of us are that stupid?”

Steve really wished they were. 

He hadn’t told anyone what happened, he knew you didn’t either but he also knew that the fact that something had gone on in the recent months was obvious to anyone with eyes and a brain cell. Thanks to the fact that you hadn’t spoken to him all night and were currently drinking on his couch alone instead of curled against his side. 

“Fuck off, Henderson. Let the adults worry about the adults, okay?” With a pat to Dustin’s shoulder Steve continued to his destination, ignoring Dustin’s calls to him as he stepped into the house and made his way over to you.

"Hey," he said stupidly. He hated not knowing how to approach you or what to say. You only gave him a small hum of acknowledgement, so he tried again "What're you doing in here all by yourself?"

"Drinkin', ya know, end of the year and all. Kinda whatcha do" was your reply and Steve noted your glassy eyes and pink cheeks, your plastic cup that smelled like vodka with a hint of juice. It fucking killed him.

"What, gotta be drunk just to see me now?" He hated how he sounded defensive, hated how he felt the need to say something because he knew you were a lightweight and that you probably wouldn't even remember this in the morning. "How much have you had to drink, anyway?"

You shrugged, downed the cup and grimaced when the alcohol burned your throat. Steve wanted to cut you off, knowing you must be well past your limit but he couldn't. Not after the disaster with Nancy years back and besides, he didn't feel like he had the right to do it anymore. It's not like the two of you were friends at the moment.

He hated this. It had never been like this with you, was never supposed to be like this.

Steve took a chance, taking the seat next to you on the sofa. This was the most the two of you had spoken in weeks and he wanted to take what he could get. He didn’t know what to say though, because you had treated him like a stranger. Steve knew you better than anyone else, in more ways than he could count, but still you couldn’t seem to look him in the eye. The silence was deafening; Steve couldn’t remember ever feeling awkward next to you. Nervous, sure. Maybe even scared but never awkward. Not even after you had seen each other naked and knew what the other tasted like. So yeah, this awkward silence was new and unusual and Steve fucking hated it.

You broke it before he had to, though. 

"Things are different now and I don't know what to do.” You whispered, closing your eyes to contain the tears gathering there. “I wanted you for so long and it was amazing but it was a mistake and it’s all fucked now.”

Steve watched as you paused, taking a breath between your rambles and he didn’t know how to feel at this moment. It felt like a climax, like a big reveal in a movie and he didn’t know what was coming. He knew it wouldn’t be good, though. Drunk confessions never were.

“I fucking love you, Steve, and I wanted it to be you and maybe that was selfish of me, but when you said that you wanted it too I thought that you wanted me and loved me. But I don’t think you love me like I love you."

Now, Steve thought that he had suffered a broken heart after Nancy called him bullshit, dumped him like garbage. At the time he naively thought she was the love of his life and the pain he felt in his chest was the worst he’d felt yet in his short, charmed existence.

This, though? This was soul crushing. The fact that you probably felt used and dumped out and it was all his fault. That you didn’t think he loved you after everything. The fact that you had just said that you loved him, but you were drunk, so was it even real? 

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" He asked, disbelieving. Why didn't you tell me? Fuck, why didn't I tell you that I feel the same? Would it even matter now if I did?

But then he watched as your face fell, and tears you'd managed to hold in finally leaked, and he physically saw you deflate.

Steve was stunned, torn between wanting to run and wipe your tears like he'd always done but knowing you wouldn't let him. He didn’t know what to do because you had just told him what he had wanted to hear for years but you were drunk and heartbroken, and you wouldn’t even remember this in the morning. He didn’t get the chance to be happy about your feelings for him, wasn’t able to try to hold you close and tell you that it would be better in the morning because at that moment, a voice neither of you really expected to hear broke through the uncomfortable silence. 

“Hey, Harrington, you got any-” Eddie stopped in his tracks and his face turned serious, noting the pained look on Steve’s face and the tears you tried to wipe with your sleeve. “Sorry, guess I’ll just go-”

“Nope!” You said, a little too enthusiastically. “I’ll go.” You stood and tried to walk to the door but the alcohol you had consumed was clearly affecting you now and you stumbled, both Steve and Eddie reaching to catch you before you fell.

“I don’t think you should be walking anywhere like this, drunky,” Eddie said, trying to add levity to the situation.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Why don’t you just stay here, huh? We can talk about it in the morning.”

"'Cause everythin' worked out so great the last time I was in your bed?" you mumbled, speech slurring a little more and your eyes losing focus as you stared at him.

Steve didn’t miss the way Eddie looked at him then, eyebrows raised and looking like he was shocked, annoyed, angry. He wanted to wipe the look right off of Eddie’s face.

As if Steve would ever mean to hurt you. 

“How about I walk you home?” Eddie offered, turning to face you before Steve could respond. “You’re right up the road, yeah?”

You agreed with little argument then, exhaustion seemingly taking over. Steve watched as Eddie grabbed your coat off of the back of the couch and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, just to steady you. He wanted to call out to Eddie, to convince you to stay so you would be here in the morning. Instead he watched the two of you leave out of the front door, avoiding your friends outside and leaving Steve to explain where you’d gone off to and why you weren’t just staying here like always. Maybe he deserved it, maybe this was some sort of karma for being a dick for years.

So Steve joined his friends outside, giving vague answers to Is she okay? and Why didn't she just stay here? He ignored the knowing grin on Dustin's face and the look Robin gave him that told Steve she would definitely be grilling him about this later. Steve ignored it all; too exhausted to explain and defend himself to his friends. 

This was the first New Year's spent without you for what felt like forever and, fuck, Steve had never felt more alone.

-

I still love you, I still love you always 

Let's not crack and break and part ways

Things weren't the same for weeks after that.

It wasn't for lack of trying on Steve's part, though. On New Year's Day he had gotten up as early as his hangover allowed him and made the short walk to your house, only to see Eddie walking out of the door just as Steve stepped onto the lawn. He told Steve that he had just stopped by to check in and that you were hungover but okay, and he didn't know if you'd want to talk to anyone right now. 

Steve had a feeling that meant that you didn't want to talk to him but were too nice to say it.

So Steve waited, and then he called your house, then called it again the next day. Eventually he got your machine enough times to tell him to give it up. It hurt, but he gave you space and waited a week.

A week turned to two, and before anyone knew two months had gone by without speaking to one another. It seemed like you and Steve had finally outgrown each other, which is something he never thought would happen. 

Because you and him were each other's person. Whenever he felt too lonely in his big, empty house or when you felt too lonely in your own head. You had always been there. Hell, he saw you way more than he saw his own parents. Steve was used to being without his parents; they’d leave for weeks at a time, come home for a day or two, then leave again. Give him a call every other week, just to make sure he wasn’t dead. He hadn’t ever gone longer than a day or two without speaking to you, though. The both of you had watched the other grow up and change, and had way too many inside jokes to count. But now you weren't there anymore and it felt like cutting off a limb. 

As cliché as it sounded, it felt like he had lost a piece of himself. 

He still saw you, of course. Hawkins was a small town and it was impossible not to run into you at the movie theater or the grocery store or even with your mutual friends. It hurt his chest a little each time, but he never acted on it. You'd give him the same look whenever you'd meet his eye; a little bit embarrassed and regretful. Disappointed. 

Steve never meant to disappoint you. 

It was obvious that he had, though. Whether it was because of what happened that night or what didn’t happen the morning after, he still wasn’t sure. 

He had his hopes, of course. Hoped that your words on New Year’s Eve were true, that you loved him back. He didn’t know for sure, though and he was too chicken to try to ask you again.

Then March rolled around, beginning to melt the snow and by some small miracle, you'd asked to see him.

Well, not directly, but it was something.

Eddie's band was starting to really kick off. They had been playing small, local bars for years and had finally booked a gig in a college town a few hours away from Hawkins. It was easily the biggest they'd played yet, and no one in the group was going to miss it.

Steve knew that he'd be driving Robin and Vicki to the show and Jonathan and Nancy would probably choose to go separately. The only question was you and how you'd get there. You loved Eddie's band, and there was no way you'd miss a show like this. Steve also knew that you didn't have a car, so you'd have no way to get there unless he'd drive you, too.

Which, he wasn’t about to hold his breath for. It came as a huge shock when Robin and Steve were on the phone the night before the concert, talking logistics and she mentioned that he'd be picking you up.

"Um, Robin, does she know that I'm picking her up?" He asked, unsure if he'd heard her correctly since you hadn't spoken a word to him since New Year's. 

He practically heard her smirk through the phone, "Even better, she asked you to. So you better work your shit out before picking us up, got it?"

Which brought him to the night of the show, slowly pulling up your driveway and wondering just how this was going to go. It felt foreign yet familiar, and he started to step out of the car to knock on your window like he always did when you stepped out of the front door, giving him a little wave before locking your door.

God, he’d missed you.

The drive to Vicki and Robin’s was quiet. Even with music playing softly from the speakers, the air inside felt heavy with the unspoken words between you. You’d seemed like you wanted to say something the whole drive, but you stayed quiet. Steve didn’t think he’d be able to take it much longer when you finally spoke just as he was turning on Robin’s street. "Thanks for driving me, I didn't wanna miss the show."

"Don't sweat it," he took the moment to turn towards you, reveling in the image of you next to him in the car again. His front seat had felt empty for far too long. "You look pretty tonight.” He knew he was pressing his luck but the smile you gave told him that you didn't mind. It wasn't much, but it was something.

He wanted to ask how you'd been and if things could ever go back to the way they were because he missed his best friend, but the girls were already running towards his car, effectively cutting off the conversation. That was, until you finally arrived in Bloomington a couple hours later, the four of you tumbling out of the car to stretch your legs and you’d grabbed Steve’s arm, asking if the two of you could hang back.

You leaned against his car, fidgeting with the sleeve of your denim jacket. "I'm sorry I've been avoiding you. I was just embarrassed about what I said at New Year’s.”

Steve was stunned. “You remember that?”  

You grimaced, “Well, Eddie kinda told me the next day. I’m so sorry, you didn’t deserve what I said about, y’know, being in your bed. I was just being stupid."

Oh.

Of course, that’s what you meant. You had no fucking idea that you had spilled your feelings for him along with your tears before Eddie barged in.

Steve shook his head, waved it off and tried to fake indifference to it all. “No, it’s fine, I probably deserved it.”

“You didn’t! I knew what I was getting into that night, it’s not your fault." You took a breath, fingers tapping on his car as you broke his gaze. "I'm sorry for avoiding you before that, too. I just didn't know how to be around you anymore, but I miss you so I wanna just forget about it. Move on."

He could honestly say that he considered leaving it at that in the hopes of saving your relationship but he found that he couldn’t. Call it bravery, stupidity, or just being fed up with the downfall of your friendship since autumn. Steve had an inkling that it was partially due to him not talking to you.

Not telling you how he felt before.

Not doing anything the morning after.

Not fighting to see you after New Years.

The two of you had been able to confide in the other about every little thing since you were kids, so why not this? Why not something as monumental as what happened between you and how you felt about one another?

Steve felt bold, brave. He was tired of the comfortable, tired of the contentment he had allowed himself to live in, because what if something better was waiting on the other side?

So, he went for it.

"You told me that you love me." Steve said, voice surprisingly even despite the nerves he felt. He watched as your eyes went wide, and if the neon bar signs hadn't been painting your faces red, he knew he would have seen a deep blush blossom on your cheeks. "On New Years, you said that you love me. Did you mean it? 'Cause I gotta be honest, I've been in love with you for a really long fucking time."

Steve couldn’t focus on anything but you; barely registered the drunk college kids shuffling on the sidewalk or the shitty rock music coming from inside the bar. All he wanted to focus on was how the shock on your face morphed into relief, embarrassment fading away as it clicked in your brain that he felt the exact same way you did.

"'Course I love you, Steve. I've loved you for years. That's why I didn't know how to be around you after. I guess part of me thought it didn't mean anything to you and I just didn't know how to deal with that. Then I was so fucking scared afterwards because I thought I lost you."

Steve could feel his heart lighten in his chest, the weight he’d been carrying for months finally lifting at your confession. His heart also constricted after you confirmed his fears, that you didn't think it mattered at all to him. It was a confusing feeling; an uncomfortable circumstance and he wanted to make it right.

"Are you kidding?" He asked, reaching for your hands like he did that night. "That could never not mean anything to me. I belong to you, you know that? Have for a while now. I was just too scared to say anything and ruin us.”

You beamed at his words, pure happiness oozing out of you it was a sight Steve hadn’t seen in a long time.

It was something he wanted to see every damn day. 

“We’re so stupid, aren’t we?” Your voice held a laugh, an airy sound that Steve had missed more than he realized.

He nodded, the motion making you laugh even more and he reveled in it “I’m sorry I was an idiot. Sorry I didn’t say anything.”

You squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry too, again. For everything.”

“I’m sorry I hurt you. I never meant to, you know that, right?”

“I know, and I think we should say something other than 'sorry' now.” The implication of your words weren't lost on Steve, and he wasn't going to let this moment slip by, too. 

"I love you," he said, grinning when your smile widened even more at his words, eyes turning a little glossy but he knew they were good tears this time. He pulled you closer, emboldened by the feelings bubbling up in his chest and the way you were looking at him like he was all you'd ever wanted. "I love you, and I want you to be mine 'cause I think I've always been yours."

You leaned yourself even closer to him, body centimeters from his but it still didn't feel close enough. Not after so long of not being with each other. "I love you, and I wanna be yours."

There were many things Steve could have said after that. He could have whispered out more apologies, other would've, should've moments you both let pass over the years but he knew those didn't matter, not right now at least. So instead, he did what he wanted to do since the first time. 

He pushed into you, closing the gap that was left and kissed you, mirroring your smile with his own when he felt it. It was safe and comforting, like coming home and he never wanted to leave.

"We should get inside," you whispered after you broke apart, foreheads resting against the other. The whole reason why you were here in the first place was almost completely forgotten by Steve and part of him wanted to skip out on it all together; make up for lost time with you. He could have happily stayed outside with you alone; could have listened to Eddie's noise from the road, endured the dirty looks from your friends later but he realized that this wasn't going to be the only time. You and him were going to talk about this again, be changed for the better come morning. So he relented, nodding before pressing another kiss to your cheek, taking your hand and leading you to the door.

As friends, but as much more, too. 

[henbytheshore]

Headcanon Meme

Jas + Art

Send me a word and a character, and I’ll write a headcanon related to that word! :D Please specify if you’d like it to be SFW or NSFW uwu

Aww little Jazzy-Bean! ;3; I love her, I feel not enough people acknowledge her, or sort of just forget she exists in the game yanno ;3;

I will do my best to stick to just Jas though, because I know I'll end up talking too much about Shane if I'm not careful xD

But with that said, here's some headcanons!

JAS HEADCANONS ABOUT ART

Jas, like most kids, enjoys drawing!

Pencils, crayons, paints - anything and everything, Jas will use them.

As a toddler she was a menace whenever she got her hands on anything unsupervised though. The walls very quickly became her canvas.

She once painted a chicken, or at least what she called a chicken at age 3, on Shane's walls. It was never cleaned off, and remains there to this day.

The fridge is covered in her drawings; not just the one at Marnie's, but also the one at the farmers - if Shane and the farmer end up as a couple.

Jas is quiet and doesn't really know how to talk about her feelings because well, she's young and doesn't understand them herself. But her drawings tend to try and portray whatever is going through her mind.

When/If her Uncle starts dating the farmer? She draws pictures where she's sad because she feels like she's being left behind.

It's okay, both Marnie and Shane talk to her, and Uncle Shane reassures her no matter what happens, he'll always be there.

The drawings later show Jas looking happier.

A drawing of her, Shane, and the farmer together on the farm, with 'my family' written on the back in crayon, is framed in Shane's room (if you don't date Shane, the farmer is replaced with Marnie).

Jas actually hones her art skills as she grows up; it's her favourite hobby and pass time.

She loves drawings flowers, mystical creatures, and the animals on the farm the most.

I actually think Jas is magically inclined, much like the farmer, and is capable of seeing the Junimos, as well as other magic creatures - like fairies.

Fairies sort of become her muse as she grows up.

People think it's just Jas being a creative kid, drawing imaginary friends and the like. But she knows they're real, so does the farmer uwu

Looks up to Leah because Leah is also an artist!

Because Leah lived so close to the ranch where Jas grew up, she would visit Leah often in her pre-teen and teen years.

They speak a lot of art stuff together, but they weirdly don't know much about each other outside of that though.

Jas still considers Leah as 'one of the nice adults' though.

Leah, alongside Shane/Marnie/The farmer, is one of Jas's biggest supporters and influences in Jas's art career as she grows up.

Doesn't do art professionally; Jas very much likes the idea of it being a hobby. She becomes a rancher like her Aunt Manie when she grows up uwu

Painting is her favourite, specifically with watercolours.

[dannystattoo]

august

chapter 1 - "i can see us lost in the memory"

you didn't plan on spending your summer fixing up your family's old cabin, but you also didn't plan on reconnecting with your childhood crush for the summer. based on august by taylor swift

Pairing: Danny Wagner x fem reader

Warnings:  Some language, but that's about it

Spending the summer after your senior year of college helping maintain your grandparents’ cabin was not what you’d anticipated upon graduating. While you wouldn’t say you were ready to tackle job hunting just yet, you would have preferred to have at least been able to stay in the college town with all of your friends for a couple more months. You’d have loved to at least have a last hurrah before you all inevitably moved on to whatever was next. Life had a way of happening though. Your grandfather passed away in the winter and a lot had changed. Your grandma wasn’t able to live on her own, so she had moved in with your family for the time being. Your parents were also trying to figure out what to do with the cabin your grandparents had purchased decades ago. It was your grandpa’s pride and joy, and he would never let anyone sell it even if he’d barely been able to use it in the last few years. The rest of your family, grandma included, couldn’t care less about keeping the property in the family, Since you and your siblings all moved out of the house and didn’t have the opportunity to visit much anymore, they decided it was best to sell the house. However, it needed a lot of TLC before it could go on the market and you’d gotten roped into spending your summer taking care of the property. You cursed yourself for learning so many DIY skills in college when your friends had insisted on renting the shittiest house possible your sophomore year, as well as for being the golden child who couldn’t draw boundaries with your parents no matter how hard you tried. 

…and that was how you found yourself looking around this house, wondering how the hell you were going to have it ready to list by August, in three months. Your dad offered to come up and help when he could on weekends and you did have a list of contractors your grandparents had previously used who could help with the things you weren’t able to do, but you were mostly on your own. You tried to remind yourself that his would give you the opportunity to save up some money since you weren’t paying rent and your family would be paying you for your work on the house. This would also give you time to polish your resume and work on perfecting your design portfolio, hopefully allowing you to move somewhere better than the sleepy midwest town you grew up in or the slightly less sleepy city you went to college in. Your ultimate goal was New York City, but you were aiming for Chicago right now. All things considered, though, the thought of a summer spent more or less by yourself doing a stupid amount of manual labor made the thought of living in the city in cramped apartment with multiple roommates and eating ramen for every meal sound appealing. 

It had probably been about five years since you’d spent any sizable amount of time here, and that was around the same time your family started doing the bare minimum maintenance on the place. They’d also done the bare minimum when it came to cleaning, so you spent the entire morning making one of the bedrooms and one of the bathrooms clean and comfortable enough to get you through the first few days. Once you finished that, you started trying to make a game plan, but you became overwhelmed pretty quickly. Realizing it was nearing one in the afternoon, you decided to drive into town, pick up some fast food and take a break. You weren’t able to find much, but there was a Taco Bell within a reasonable driving distance. You returned home with your Nachos Bell Grande and a massive Baja Blast, hoping that would push you to have a productive evening. It was a beautiful day out, so you took you lunch out to the dock. The gate that led down to the water’s edge was a bit rusted and hard to open, but once you got it, you remembered why you loved coming here so much as a kid. Admittedly, once you looked past the state of the house and the yard, it was gorgeous out here. You were steps away from the lake, which had a tiny private sandy beach at its edge. Trees and plants in full bloom surrounded the lake, and you always loved the glow of the sun off the water. You told yourself that if you got through a clearing the clutter in the rooms you, your siblings, and cousins had shared as kids that day, you’d reward yourself with a glass of wine and a night spent on the patio with your designs. The change in scenery was inspiring you in a way you hadn’t expected. Looking at the nearby houses, you tried to remember all the kids you’d met here over the years. They were all fleeting friendships, lasting for only one week in the summer over the 4th of July and picking up the next year, depending on who returned and when. You’d met these kids well before social media, and you had no idea what happened to any of them after losing contact. You start thinking about them, wondering where life had taken everyone after those golden summers. 

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice that someone had appeared from the cabin next-door and they were walking down towards the water. 

“I had no idea they sold this place,” the voice said as it came up behind you. Startled, you turned around to see a man approaching you. He looked like he was about your age, maybe slightly older. You could tell from his tan skin he probably spent a lot of time outside, giving the impression of someone else who might be spending the summer here. Based on appearances alone, that was something you could get on board with. You couldn’t overlook the fact he was gorgeous - you were immediately drawn to his intense eyes and radiant smile, and the fact his was absolutely ripped didn’t hurt matters.

“Because they didn’t,” you laughed. “Granted, it’s barely been used in at least five years, but yeah, haven’t sold yet.”

“Well that’s good, I always like the people who lived here.”

“You knew them?” you were taken by surprise. 

“Oh yeah, my family owns the place next door. I’m Danny, by the way.”

“Y/N,” you said. The longer you looked at him, you began to think he looked vaguely familiar. “This is gonna sound weird, but we’ve met before haven’t we?”

“You have two older sisters and your family was always here the week of the 4th of July, right?”

“Yeah. You have a younger sister and you were also always here for the 4th of July?” As Dnny confirmed this, it all came flooding back to you. 

He was part of the group of about a dozen of you who lived on this street that you’d just been thinking about. He was, in fact, a few years older than you, but you seemed to remember his younger sister was around your age. You also remembered you’d had a hugely embarrassing crush on Danny that resurfaced every year. God, you’d forgotten about him completely, as it had been ten years since you’d seen him, more since you’d seen him with any sort of regularity at the cabin. You remembered it all with clarity now. 

He was three years older than you, and by the time you were eleven and he was fourteen, he started hanging out with the group less and less. Fair enough, he was a teenager, but it didn’t hurt any less. You’d always thought he was cute and he was the only boy in the group who was always nice to you. Looking back, he treated you like a little sister, but you didn’t see it that way then. You remembered the summer you were twelve and he was fifteen when he and another one of the older girls in the group stopped hanging out with you as frequently, only showing up at events where the entire family was present. You’d been devastated when you’d accidentally stumbled upon them making out in her room at a barbecue you’d all been at. By the next summer, you were convinced that because you were thirteen and a full fledged teenager, he’d finally be interested in you. Much to your dismay, he hadn’t even come up north that year, opting to stay home in order to spend more with his friends instead. It was only a couple more years before you stopped spending long stints there in the summer. You realized how much you’d forgotten about your time here.

“So what brings you back?” Danny’s question brought you back from your nostalgia. 

“Well, my grandpa passed away over the winter -“ 

“Oh shit, i’m sorry.”

“Thank you. It wasn’t unexpected, but still. Anyway, my family is actually planning to sell now and I somehow got roped into coming out here for the summer to fix it up and get it ready to put on the market. You live in one shitty house that forces you to learn handy skills and they use it against your for the rest of your life,” you laughed.

“What, by yourself?”

“Not entirely, my dad is coming up to help me out when he can and we will need to hire people to do some of the more complicated projects. But yeah, mostly.” You were kicking yourself the moment you said it. Way to go, Y/N, you thought to yourself. You don’t know the first thing about this guy anymore and he could be a crazed serial killer for all you knew. 

“Anyway, I could ask you the same thing,” you shifted the attention back to him.

“Honestly, I don’t know. Getting away, I guess? I’ve been so stuck with work lately and I thought a change of scenery might be good. Don’t ask why my first inclination was to come here, but it was.”

“By yourself?”

“For now. Three of my friends, more like my brothers actually, are planning to come up in a few weeks and spend most of the summer. They may be going back and forth between here and home a bit more than me though.”

“Where do you live?”

“Nashville.” 

“That’s so cool, I unfortunately didn’t get to go far for college and I was so lucky to move back to my hometown in Michigan after graduation. I’m hoping to save up some money over the summer so I can start looking to move. Enough about me, what is it you do for work?” You were intrigued when he said he was “uninspired”, wondering if he did something creative too.

“Uh, musician,” he said running  his hand through his dark curls. You could tell he assumed you’d react a certain way.

“No shit, that’s sick! What kind of music?”

“I’m in a rock band, drummer. I know it probably sounds kind of lame, but we’ve actually released a few single, and EP, and we just got a contract for our first full record. As exciting as all of that is, I’m having a hell of a time getting anything written to contribute to it. Decided I’d come here for a little bit first by myself, and then the guys are gonna join me in a couple weeks. I thought maybe getting out of the city would help. Plus the lease on my place was up last week and the house I’m set to move into isn’t available September 1st.”

“Well, I don’t think that’s lame at all. I’m trying to break into design, so I kind of get it.”

“Oh really, what kind?”

“My dream would be fashion, it was my main area of focus in school, but I’ve also been building by graphic design portfolio to have something more ‘practical’, as my parents would say.”

“I get that, I’m sure you can imagine my parents were just thrilled when I said I had no desire to go to college right after graduating high school.”

“Sounds like you’re doing great anyway,” you shrugged. You guys talked comfortably for quite a bit longer, catching up on the past ten years. It was nice to have found a friend so early on, at least you hoped you’d found a friend. Danny was so easy to talk to and you felt an effortless connection, even if you hadn’t seen him in a literal decade. Eventually, you picked up your phone, sitting abandoned on the table, and you didn’t like the time.

“Oh god, how is it already three? I’m so sorry, but I should probably go, I have so much work to do,”

“Honey, you have all summer,” Danny said. You wouldn’t admit that your stomach flipped when he called you that. Fuck, were you attracted to him now, still? 

“You’re right, but you have no idea how much I have to do.”

“Can I help with anything? I know I didn’t come here for home renovation projects, but you could persuade me, I think.” 

“I would actually really appreciate that, if only for the company. Tell you what, my main goal for the day was to start cleaning out some of the bedrooms, if you’d want to help? When we make some good progress, maybe we can grab dinner? Like I said, even if it’s just for the company and an accountability buddy.”

“I’d love that. Honestly, I’ve only been here like two days and I’m going insane in my own company. I was so hung up on the idea of taking a solitary trip to work that I forgot I’m an extrovert.” You smiled at him, grabbed your Taco Bell remains, and led him into the house.

“Not to be rude, but you weren’t kidding,” Danny said, looking around the house. 

 “Yeah, it’s so, so bad. We’ve hardly been up here since like, 2017, what with life and school and work, and that was around the time my grandparents weren’t able to come up here by themselves anymore. I think my parents did just enough maintenance so that the neighbors wouldn’t lose their minds.” 

“Gives me an excuse to offer my services around here a lot then?” 

“I think that sounds perfect,” you smiled, leading Danny to the bedroom you and your sisters shared years ago. Before you could stop yourself, you caught yourself thinking that you’d love to be taking him back to your room under much different circumstances. You couldn’t believe that you were down bad for this guy yet again, hours after seeing him for the first time in a decade.

To be continued

[nobodyimportant41]

Bo Burnham's legacy challenge

(God, wth im writing)

Ehm- yeah...i was looking inspo for another legacy challenge on my spotify when i realized that i basically only hear Argentinan or Uruguayan music...and i'm pretty sure that here not many people known them- So i decided to go for Bo's songs!

And yeah, if you for some reason think about it, it was also inspired by "Perspective of god" ("you're not my children, you're a bad game of sims")

WARNING:

If you heard Bo's songs, you will know that there are some "spicy" or not kid friendly topics, so, if you're under 18 or sensitive, you may not read this one.

General rules:

Heirs don't have to ressemble their song with their name, but you can do it if you want

No cheats unless it for storytelling purposes

You can play in any lifespan, but i recommend playing it in normal

The order of the generations is for storytelling purposes, not their release order

If you don't have a certain pack, you can change some goals for the most similar

Packs:

Ep: Be famous (gen 1,2,7 and 8), Highschool years (gen 2), Cats and dogs (gen 6), City living (gen 7 and 10/2), Get together (gen 7), Snowy escape (gen 10/1)

Gp:Parenthood (gen 3)

Sp: Movie night stuff (gen 8), paranormal (gen 5)

Gen 1; Repeat stuff:

Story:You were always good looking,so, you grew up without problems since everything was made from others for you! But, as an adult you realize that because you didn't did anything, you don't KNOW anything... so you decide to go for a singer way! The only thing that matters is that your hot, right?

Traits:

Self centred

Lazy

Music lover

Goals:

Complete the musical genius aspiration

Max the entertainment career (musician branch)

Max the piano and singing skills

Leave someone at the altar

Record at least 5 romantic songs

Woohoo with the grim reaper at least once

Gen 2; white woman's instagram:

Story: Being the kid of one of the most famous singers in the simnation, OF COURSE that you wanted to follow that path of having a "perfect life!" After all, the only hard part will be convince your spouse to take some selfies with you...

Traits:

Self centred

Mean

High mantience

Goals:

Complete the world famous celebrity aspiration

Become a simfluencer

Max the photography and charisma skills

Marry someone you hate

Use social media at least once a day

Gen 3; 1985:

Story:Your parents didn't loved eachother, but your parent's (gen 2) followers thought the exact opposite. Thats why you always preferred your other parent since they were a lot more honest; maybe too much..

As a young adult, your biggest dream is having kids and mostly, educate them!

Traits:

Family oriented

Perfeccionist

Neat

Goals:

Complete the super parent aspiration

Max the parenting and cooking skill

Be a stay at home parent

Have at least 3 kids and became friends with all of them

Only use the strict options to disipline your kids

Gen 4; Lower your expectations:

Story: Your parent always told you that you weren't able to date until they passed away which were very tragic news for you; How are you getting married with that?! At least when you were a kid, you had to only conform with writing romance books... but as a rebelious teen, you thought of dating your crush, it was only a little secret that will never be revealed, right?...

Traits:

Romantic

Creative

High maintenance

Goals:

Complete the soulmate aspiration

Max the charisma and writing skills

Work as a freelance writer

Have at least 5 partners, but break up with all of them, since they aren't perfect like you would like

Get married and see your first spouse die

Marry your soulmate as an elder

Gen 5;K!ll yours3lf:

Story: Your parent always told you about how "bad" their partners were, so you started thinking that people were cruel by nature (except for you, or at least that was what you said) so you started reading about occults and you REALLY liked it! You even decided that, for when you were an adult, you will EVEN interact with people! Not because you liked them, but because you wanted to ghosthunt in people's houses!

Traits:

Loner

Mean

Erratic

Goals:

Complete the master of mischief aspiration

Max the paranormal and mischief skills

Work as a paranormal investigator

Live your whole life in a haunted house

Your only friend AND spouse must be a ghost

Live as a ghost after passing away

Gen 6; Poems:

Story: Since you were a young kid you knew your social life was quite dead since you were born because, well...one of your parents is a ghost and the other one is a freak who LOVES ghost... yeah..you knew that having friends was way too hard so you didn't even tried it; all you needed was a dog and a computer to write your... VERY original poems...

Traits:

Socially akward

Dog lover

Slob

Goals:

Complete the best seller author aspiration

Max the writing and pet training skills

Max the writer career (any branch)

When you unlock the option, ONLY write poems

Have at least two dogs

Gen 7; Welcome to the internet:

Story: You knew that you were considered a weird one, but, unlike your parent, you REALLY WANTED to be famous, so you decided that, as soon as you were able to, create a simtube account and upload your FANTASTIC vlogs about your amazing life and someday, show your classmates that you were an spectacular and perfect sim!

Traits:

Self centred

Outgoing

Goofball

Goals:

Complete the leader of the pack aspiration

Max the tech guru career (Esports player branch)

Max the video making and charisma skills

Have a celebrity club

Become at least a three stars celebrity

When you moved out of your house, never talk with your parent/s never again

Gen 8; Microwave popcorn:

Story: When you were a kid, you spend most of your time watching movies with popcorn in your hands. You couldn't help it but love it! After all, cooking and mostly acting were two thing that you loved!

As an adult, you could finally enter the acting career! It was thanks to your parents fame.. but you still wanted to become the next Judith Ward!

Traits:

Glutton

Ambicious

Slob

Goals:

Complete the master actor/actress aspiration

Max the acting career

Max the singing and acting skills

Gain the junk food lifestyle

Win at least three awards for your job

Gen 9; Whats funny:

(This is quite inspired by the pink gen of the Not so Berry challenge, so this gen is not 100% original!)

Story: You grew up in a quite conservative household, so you wanted to get married to a nice person and have beautiful children; you didn't cared about your job, you could work in a simple 9-5 office work to maintain them! Except, EVERYTHING went wrong, you ended up fighting everyday with your spouse, your kids were ungrateful and only cared about their partners and you didn't even cared anymore for your job, maybe you could try pursue your dream?

Traits:

Family oriented

Perfeccionist

Goofball

Goals:

Complete the jokestar aspiration

Work in the bussiness career but quit it after having your midlife crisis and then max the entertainment career (comedian branch)

Max the comedy skill

Get married and have twins

Max your relationship both of your kids

Gen 10; Left brain, Right brain:

Ok, to make this challenge more "special" i decided to do something quite weird; there are two "branches" of the last gen, in other words; you can choose if you want to play with the left brain or the right brain! (Or both, if you hate yourself)

Gen 10/1; Left brain:

Story: You always thought that your twin was quite a dumb one; they just wanted to play and watch hot people on tv all day! You wanted to be one in life, but there was so many things you wanted to do...but you will fight to have a family and a great job! You decided to move to Mt. Komorebi for your job; a salary person! Since you will LOVE to become a CEO! and also karaoke nights...

Traits:

Perfeccionist

Materialist

Genius

Goals:

Complete the fabulously wealthy aspiration

Max the salary person career

Max the singing and logic skills

Have at least one kid with all the positive character values

Marry someone in the following careers: Salary person, politician or business career

Gen 10/2;Right brain:

Story: You always thought that your twin was super cool! You didn't share much with them, but you admire how smart they were and mostly, they knew what they wanted while you...ehm...you only knew you wanted to become everybody's friend, but you didn't even know what you were going to work as...but you will figure it out!

Traits:

Childish

Romantic

Art lover

Goals:

Complete the city native aspiration

Work selling your paintings at home until becoming an adult and max the painter career (any branch)

Max the painting and charisma skills

Have max relationship with at least 5 persons (excluding your family) and become best friends with your twin

Have twins...twice

[practically-an-x-man]

your OCs are invited/challenged to do something like Naked & Afraid: who agrees? what would it take for any of the others to agree?

Ooooh, interesting! Thank you!

Rae: On the one hand, she's always down for a new adventure and there's very few things she wouldn't try at least once. On the other hand, she doesn't have much survival training and wouldn't be thrilled about having her uncovered body just broadcast on television, so I really can't tell with her. It really depends on the timing of it and how she feels about it.

Robin: Pass. Really not her thing. She's never been much of a wilderness person, there's a lot of risk just... for fun? Without much real gain? She'd do her best with wilderness survival if it really mattered, like for her genuine safety or survival, but I can't see her signing up just for fun. She has opera rehearsals to get to!

Madison: Wilderness survival is kind of her thing, and the premise of the challenge would absolutely intrigue her. She's not thrilled about the "naked" part, especially since the premise of the show is that your survival partner is a stranger (I think she'd be more likely to sign up for Alone than Naked & Afraid), but I could definitely see her enjoying a challenge like that. Hell, she lived like that for five years!

Ophelia: Absolutely not. She's always been a city girl, she'd hate to be without technology for longer than a few days, and that's not even accounting for her bad knee and the challenges that would prove. I could see her researching some survival tips just in case, but she's definitely not signing up for the show.

Gia: Absolutely not. You think the girl who can barely leave her home due to intense unresolved anxiety issues is going to spend three weeks in the middle of nowhere without even clothes to wear? She'd probably laugh in your face if you suggested it, but she wouldn't want to be rude.

Jasper: Hm... another tough one. They grew up out in the bayou (the boonies, as they'd say) and have been camping a few good times, so brushing up on those survival skills wouldn't take too much, but... the whole "naked and afraid" concept wouldn't be great for their dysphoria, especially on camera, and they'd rather be back at their warm, cozy apartment with Kyle and their pets

Kestrel: Oh, in a heartbeat. Like Madison, wilderness survival is a big tenet to who they are and they'd excel at the challenge. Really, the hardest part would just be remembering not to shapeshift or use magic on camera.

Katherine: Eh, no thanks. It's an interesting premise, but really not within her interests or capabilities. She wouldn't mind trying out for some game show or other TV show, but it wouldn't be a survival show

Quinn: Nope. Similar to Ophelia's, really - the combination of living her whole life in an urban setting and just physically not being fit for a hardcore survival situation like that.

Eris: Sure, why not? It's been a while since they've been in the thick of true wilderness survival, but he won't shy away from a good challenge (and you know she wouldn't be at all self-conscious about the "naked" part lol). Honestly, I could see him trying to get Rick in on it too, like Eris' weird idea of a couple's retreat lmao

Nikoletta: Hard pass. She's never been a wilderness kind of person, she has no interest in learning, and especially not now. She's finally at the point in her life where she is comfortable and safe, why would she give that up just for some gimmicky show? No thanks. She'd rather be safe at home, cuddled up with Abner and the cats.

Jimmy: Disqualified for being a ghost, there's no point.

Vivienne: Disqualified bc TV doesn't exist in her time.

Spider: Pre-apocalypse, I think he'd probably go for it, honestly. He enjoys trying new things, and this seems like a neat opportunity. He'd struggle to be surrounded by so many unique sounds and not have his tape recorder, and he'd definitely need to do some wilderness survival training before he signed up, but I could see him giving it a go.

[wobster109]

Thoughts on Parade of Providence day 3—

Kaveh

"I've heard enough. The last thing I need is more suffering."

What a moment! For Kaveh, who could never look away from anyone's suffering, who made every person's (and some creatures') suffering his own, to refuse it! This was a crucial character moment for him—all the rest of it (helping the foxes, insisting on drawing lots, donating the estate)—the rest of it was all Kaveh. Smashing the diadem, on the other hand. . . he's found his limit, perhaps for the first time. . . and he found it in himself to hold it. 🥺😭🥰

I love that he was as respectful of Sachin as he could be, despite everything. He wouldn't just take his estate for himself and ignore Sachin's wishes. And, in the end, what got Sachin (and his own father) was caring for people. I love that he used Sachin's own money to help people. . . doing what research could not, in a way. It may not have been the perfect solution Sachin was searching for, but it was something, no?

Alhaitham's Quote

"Lofty ideals may provide no defense at all against nihilism, but perhaps little decisions can. By their own choice, the idealist seeks to bring happiness to all, while denying themselves the same. Thus they shall never reach even the borders of truth until they wipe away the ignorance that blinds them."

This quote confused me a bunch. The first part seems to be approving of Kaveh, in a roundabout way: little decisions like helping the foxes, or buying a keychain, or drawing lots just because it's fair. Yet the second part seems like a critique: is he saying Kaveh shall never find truth unless he wipes away his ignorance?

On a second reading, I believe this quote is contrasting Kaveh and Sachin. Sachin is the idealist, who tried to bring happiness to all, and lost himself to despair. On the other hand, if each of us does a bit to be kind, and to help each other. . . we may stave off our slide from bad to worse.

A Tale of Two Fathers

"Whatever it is that he's researching out there, he'll always be garbage in my eyes."

I winced every time Sachin called Kaveh "my child". You HAD a child. You left him.

Kaveh's father had a child, and Kaveh's father left him.

Idealists (derogatory)! Your journey to save people began by leaving someone behind. And yet I can't be mad: Kaveh's father did make a difference. Sachin's research. . . though it cause a lot of grief, it made a difference in the end. It sent the desert people Kaveh's father, which changed who Kaveh grew to become, until he came to command and donate Sachin's estate. They ended up making a difference in the end, so I can't be mad.

And neither can Kaveh. That's the difference between him and Jiwani, who grew bitter and angry. Kaveh has grief, but never bitterness towards others.

Rishti

"To live a better life, my son became a mercenary. He was killed in a scuffle a few years ago, and his belongings were taken. Many years have passed in the blink of an eye. I wonder how his child turned out, and if they hold a grudge against him? Not many people know these things anymore. I'm getting old. Perhaps, I'll forget these things soon, too."

Good god. Archons above.

This is one of those conversations that just sneaks up on you. You're chatting with Rishti, about this bizarre and fantastical situation of a man Coming Back Wrong after coming into contact with a scrap of a dead guy's consciousness trapped in a horcrux diadem, and then. . . suddenly Rishti hits you with something so damn real.

She says it so quietly. Matter-of-factly. It's just a fact of her life, just the fabric of the universe. Nothing to rage against or bemoan. It takes a few seconds for what she has said to sink in.

I interpret this as the game giving us a glimpse into Sachin's research and the memories in his diadem. Such a quiet, profound grief, all the more heartbreaking because of how mundane it seems.

The second part of the grief is the forgetting. Rishti is an old woman, stooped and forgetful. After she is gone, who will remember her mercenary son? Will there be any trace of him left upon the world? The Aranara always say that the forest will remember, to the extent that their very power comes from stories. And in another nation, Zhongli says that the Traveler will bear witness to Teyvat's history. And in a third nation, an adventurer takes on a friend's name, and an archon takes on a friend's shape.

I know about him now, Rishti. I'll remember your son!

(I would love if finding Kaveh's father's note became a commission, either daily or weekly, someday!)

Alhaitham

Nearly had a heart attack when I wandered into Aaru village, and there he was, just casually reading the research that drove Sachin and Kaveh's father to madness. That's risky! And reckless! He has a lot of confidence in himself to be different from Sachin. And perhaps he's right to be confident, but. . . it's a pointless risk. Alhaitham isn't even interested in the research! Kaveh's lost too many people already 😭

In many ways he is Kaveh's opposite, but in this. . . he has a bit of Kaveh's recklessness.

Alhaitham! Every line of his is so loaded with meaning! I was reading each of his lines several times, to try to extract the meaning of it. "Empathy is a double-edged sword," and "All important things in life involve other people. As such, it's extremely difficult to live a life that causes no harm whatsoever to others," and "the world is not built on "correctness" alone. Sometimes, being correct means nothing at all" 😭 Can't help but feel that he's trying to say something very, very essential. I could listen to him talk for hours.

That Conversation and the Fate of Humanity

Of course Alhaitham can't possibly give a straight answer to any of Kaveh's questions, ever, and certainly not "Why were you investigating Sachin when his research doesn't interest you?" Can't just simply say "to find out about your father" like a reasonable person, noooo! Instead we have to get sidetracked and have a debate about the value of Sachin's legacy, and then later he casually throws in "Sachin. . . is very likely to have met your father" like it's unrelated.

FUCK OFF, ALHAITHAM! JUST COME CLEAN AND TELL KAVEH YOU DID IT FOR HIM!

Kaveh is exactly the same. He has to get sidetracked and have another debate about. . . I'm not entirely sure what this one is about. The fate of humanity? Alhaitham says "Someone else will inevitably pick up the same line of research one day," and I believe this means that eventually someone will choose wrong, and will instead publish the research where it will drive swaths of people into depression. After all, the topic is sure to come back again and again.

It reminds me of the Narukami Island and Vanarana quests, actually. Sachin's research is a bit like the filth that accumulates over 60 years, or the Marana (the awareness of death?) that accumulates over 500: nothing can be solved for forever. Eventually, the battle begins anew, and all we can do is hope, and take up arms when the time calls. Sometimes that means fighting the Withering. Other times? Extending your hand to a classmate or a lost fox, even if it's tiny in the grand scheme. Even if it's futile. "All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us."

And if there comes a day when Sachin's prophecy comes true: the battle is lost, "things go from bad to worse". . . The forest will remember. We were here. Our stories were real.

"Thanks for letting me know all this." In typical Kaveh form, he says it from a safe distance after the fact, and doesn't even mention what "this" is. Thank you for letting me know that Sachin is to blame for what happened to my father, and it wasn't what I said. You're welcome, Kaveh! (In this way they are so much alike 🥰)

I think that Alhaitham's little personal quest to find answers for Kaveh. . . it's one of the little decisions that fights against nihilism.

Kaveh (Reprise)

A few loose closing thoughts:

I knew he wasn't athletic on day 1 when he nearly went into cardiac arrest climbing a tree 🥺 He's very *pant pant wheeze* it's very endearing.

How is everyone just standing around while Sachin's Horcrux tries to take over his mind? Come on, Alhaitham! Go to him!

Kaveh talks about Alhaitham a lot. Everyone at the table comments on it, it's very sweet! Rent-free in our hearts, indeed.

In closing, I found this to be so charming:

Hah, a Haravatat taking something that didn't belong to him! Immediately, I thought of Kaveh's house keys. Was delighted to find that was the actual answer!

[reality-warp]

Zuzana | Asmodeus Tiefling | Ranger | Chaotic Good

“I did what I had to keep us all alive. If you’re expecting an apology for that, you’ll be waiting until Avernus sprouts daffodils.”

Zuzana is probably one of my favourite DnD characters I’ve ever played as. I originally made her for a Decent into Avernus campaign, and now I can’t wait to play as her again when BG3 comes out in just a few days. 

I’ve added her (slightly long) backstory summary below, partly for my own amusement, but also since everyone else on the hype train seems to be sharing too:

Pale Huntress

Zuzana (affectionately called Zana by her few friends and family) was born the elder of a set of twins, her brother Zane being born just five minutes after her to a human farmer and his tiefling wife. They grew up pretty humble, rarely going beyond the boundaries of their family’s orchards, paddocks and the surrounding forests. As a result (plus their infernal heritage) the twins didn’t have too many friends and were damned near inseparable as kids. Zane grew up to be accomplished with caring for and riding the horses their family bred, while Zana became a dab hand with a bow and arrow – learning to fend off wolves and livestock rustlers alongside her father, as well as hunt for game when harvests were bad.

The twin’s mother passed away when they were in their teens, and after a few hard winters following her death, the family began to struggle to keep food on the table. During one of these harsh winters, while out hunting the twins stumbled on a caravan of merchants passing their farm being attacked by a starving wolf pack. Between them they managed to fight the wolves off, and offered shelter at their home to the ones injured in the fight. One of the injured men — a red dragonborn called Ferrovax Ironhide — turned out to be an mercenary associated with a guild in Baldur’s Gate. After seeing the twins fight together, he told his father than he saw a lot of potential in them, and offered to take them with him — promising to sponsor and mentor them, as their potential was wasted out on a farm in the middle of nowhere.

Despite not wanting to leave their father, the twins were interested by the idea, and were eventually convinced to accept by their father — who realized that, despite not wanting to lose them, his children were being offered the chance at a better life. So hesitantly, both Zana and Zane accepted, promising to come visit as soon as they were able to. They left with Ferrovax after he had recovered fully, and made the journey to Baldur’s Gate with him. What they didn’t learn until they got there and began their training, was that while Ferrovax was indeed a mercenary associated with a guild — but the guild in question was actually an underground gladiator stable who’s participants fought in Zhentarim fighting pits. And because the twins were unable to read their “contracts” properly, they had no idea until they’d signed them that they’d been tricked into indenturing themselves to Ferrovax for the cost of their “training and upkeep”, effectively making them his property until they paid it off. 

For almost three years they were made to fight in a variety of underground fighting pits, sometimes against monsters, sometimes against other gladiators, but they were always entered as a pair fighting alongside each other. They became relatively well known as a “matching set” referred to as “The Pale Twins”, but according to Ferrovax the “cost of their upkeep” just kept going up, no matter how much money they managed to make fighting in the pits. Eventually the twins realized that Ferrovax was never going to allow them to pay off their indenture as they were too valuable to him now — he’d just keep finding ways to push the debt up until they eventually died fighting in the pits. So they, along with a few other indentures in the same impossible position, planned a mass escape. WIth the help of one of the spellcasters in the stables they managed to escape their cells one night, find and destroy their contracts, then made a run for it.

Unfortunately just as they were making their way out, they were spotted and chased down. Zana managed to make it out, but Zane was caught and subdued – but not before shouting at her to keep running and save herself. With no other choice, Zana was forced to reluctantly leave her brother behind and flee.

For several long months she could only run and hide as pack after pack of bounty hunters was sent after her. She was forced to hide out in the wilds, and by the time they started to give up the hunt and she was able to sneak back into the city, she’d completely lost track of where Zane was. Only after a year after her escape did she finally hear rumors that Ferrovax had been forced to sell Zane’s indenture since he was no longer as profitable in the arena without his “matched set” sister. She spent months trying to track Ferrovax down, and when she finally did, she discovered that the loss of so many of his gladiators had cripled him financially. He’d been reduced to begging on the streets of the Outer City, and when Zana confronted him about what happened to her brother, he admitted that he had indeed sold Zane to a Zhentarim slaver in the city of Elturel…

Just a week before it fell into Avernus.

Decent Into Avernus

Desperate to rescue her brother from hell, Zana found and immediately joined up with a small group of other adventurers – a goliath barbarian called Kharv, a half-elf wild magic sorcerer called Elias, necromancy specialized wizard gnome Norman, and a half-orc cleric Syll. All of them were fixing to go to hell (pun totally intended) for their own reasons, and decided to team up so they’d have a better chance of not only surviving the trip, but also saving Elturel. 

Through various shenanigans involving discovering a cult hidden under one of the Duke’s estates, the group managed to get transported into Avernus – the first layer of hell, where Elturel had been dragged – and in the process of finding their way through the hellscape of the Blood War, the party discovered that Zane had been taken along with some other Elturel survivors, and had been forcibly thrown into a meregon’s fighting pit at “training practice”.

The party arrived at the devil’s arena just in time to save Zane from being killed, reuniting the twins for the first time in over a year of being separated. (Zana’s first words upon hugging her brother again were “Don’t ever try and sacrifice yourself for me again, you absolute prick” through a shed load of tears.) After rescuing and being reunited with her twin, Zana and Zane join the rest of the party on the months long mission to bring Elturel back to the material plane. 

After managing to return to Faerun, returning Elturel back to its original position on the map, and recovering for a few months, Zane and Zana – plus Zane’s new boyfriend, Elias, who’d started growing close during the trip across Avernus – decide it’s time to make the journey back to their family home to reunite with their father. By then it had been almost five years, and the two of them had been through so much, neither were sure how on earth they were going to explain to their father what had happened to them. Between the twins, they made the decision not to tell him, worried that the guilt of sending them away to such a fate would crush him.

So the twins returned to their childhood home to the delighted shock of their father, who was beyond overjoyed to have his beloved children home once again.

No Longer Who We Once Were

For five years the twins remained home again. In their time away their father had managed to build the farm back up again after the difficult times, but he was getting old and weary, so Zane and Zana took over a lot of the workloads. Zane and Elias become engaged, their old adventuring friends sometimes visiting, and despite the peace and joy of being reunited the twin’s father became more and more frail. The weight of hard years tending the farm alone, and missing his wife and children had weighed heavy on him, and eventually he passed peacefully one winter with Zane and Zana both there with him. 

With their father gone and no longer in a position to keep the secret of what happened to them, Zane and Zana decide that what they experienced in Baldur’s Gate and Avernus had left too many scars on them to lead a quiet life as farmers. Not without their father there as an anchor. They scatter their fathers ashes in the same woods where they scattered their mothers, and began preparations to sell the farm and set off to find what they’re meant to do next. 

Zana expressed her wishes to return to Baldur’s Gate and try to track down some of her old friends from the Avernus mission (who had all gone their separate ways after returning to Faerun). Zane and Elias agreed, but also wanted to go and visit Elias’ family in Waterdeep first to tell them about the engagement in person. The twins realize that they can’t realistically be joined at the hip for the rest of their lives, so they agree to willingly split up for the first time, albeit temporarily. The plan was for Zane to go with Elias to Waterdeep while Zana would head to Baldur’s Gate to pick up their old companion’s trails ahead of them – all of them planning to meet up in Baldur’s Gate in a few months time.

The twins exchanged Sending Stones made by Elias so that they used to keep in daily contact, speaking every night at the same time after heading out in their separate directions. 

Only when  Zana stops responding the day after she arrived back in Baldur’s Gate does Zane realise something is very wrong, both him and Elias immediately setting out to go find out what the hell has happened to her. 

What they find when they get there, I suppose we’ll find out soon enough…

Extra character notes:

Zana and Zane were both about 20 when they left home with Ferrovax. By the start of BG3 they're around 30.

Both twins are both very pale grey, even for tieflings, with white hair, bone grey horns and yellow eyes. They also look so similar that at a distance it’s difficult to tell them apart. They’re even the exact same height and have almost the same horn shape too.

When they were being trained in the gladiator stables, Zana (who was already good with a bow) was made to be a ranged specialist, while Zane was trained as a close-combat fighter. Class-wise, Zana is a combo of Hunter Ranger and a little bit of Rogue, while Zane is a Battle Master Fighter who’s preferred weapon is a glaive.

Neither twin learned to read or write as a child. When they were living in the gladiator stables, one of the other indentures (a former scholar of Candle Keep) helped them to learn the bare basics. Zana was a little better at it than Zane, but she’s still not great and is very sensitive about how slowly she is to write and read.

Zana keeps sketch journals as a way of managing stress. She draws people she meets, places she sees, and presses flowers and herbs between the pages to keep for later. After escaping the nautiloid, she buys and starts keeping a new journal as a way of taking her mind off things – and just in case she dosen’t survive, Zane will have something of hers to find out what happened to her.

I like to imagine she’s by far the best cook in the entire camp, barring maybe Halsin and Jaheira. The girl has been cooking food she’s hunted over a campfire since she was a child, and has had to figure out ways of making palatable meals out of scraps for half of her life. Astarion still likes to complain that there’s never enough seasoning in her food though. (Z: "Eat your desiccated fruit rations and be grateful, you prissy git. It's miles better than anything you could make, and you know it.")

While she was somewhat well known in Baldur’s Gate’s underground as a gladiator for a time, it was only in combination with her brother as a “matching set”. Without him, and all this time later, she’s not really recognised as much, and far prefers it that way. (In our Decent into Avernus campaign one of the Flaming Fist recognised her and asked her if she’d sign one of his shoulderguards, much to her mortification.)

I’m specing her as a Hunter subclass, but depending on how her story run goes I may take the Gloom Stalker subclass instead. I headcanon that the insertion of the tadpole has messed with her focus and combat reflexes, hence why she’s back at Level 1 despite originally reaching Level 8 during Decent into Avernus.

In my mind, Zana wore her Sending Stone on a cord around her neck, and when she was teleported onto the nautiloid, no magic items could come with her. Her Sending Stone is likely still lying in a gutter somewhere in the Lower City.

[doorplays]

Musings on Art: Wherein A Dog Helps Me Get In Touch With My Inner Artist

Hello! As I talked about with my spoilery review for Immortality, I sometimes want to do an accompanying spoilery review/article for games that I want to really talk about, but can’t talk about as much due to not wanting to spoil their stories. I’ll be changing up the format of these kinds of articles so that it’s less a review and more of my thoughts on my experience of these games!

Before we continue though, I’ll have to give a big fat !!!SPOILER WARNING!!! for this article as I will be talking about this game in a somewhat in-depth manner, mentioning some character arcs and some lore.

With that out of the way, let’s get on to my thoughts about Chicory: A Colorful Tale!

Chicory was a lot of things I didn’t expect. Even starting out, the game asked me for my favorite food. I didn’t think it would be used for the main character name, so I just said “Lumpia” and moved on. So I guess my drawdog is named Lumpia! And based on the title, I thought the game will be chiefly about Chicory, and that I’d get to control Chicory, and I guess I was (partly) wrong about both points!

I wanna talk about the game. I wanna talk about how it made me feel. But first, let’s talk about art.

I feel I need to post a disclaimer: I am not an Art Expert in any way, shape, or form. I am just a huge fan of art! Specifically the Game kind, but I do find myself liking a bunch of art. ANYWAYYYYY

Art means a lot of things to a lot of different people. Some think it has to have a deep effect on you. Some think it has to be done in a specific way. Throughout the years, it has evolved and changed, incorporating new tools, being expressed through new mediums.

What I’ve found, though, is that at its core, art is about communication. It’s about the desire to share a thought in a way that you choose.

If art is about communication, then there’s always two parties to art: the artist and the audience. And art, in this exchange, is the message.

It is a description that may seem too simple, but I do believe that is the heart of it. Nonetheless, art is definitely more complex than that! Artists struggle to perfect their craft in an effort to deliver art that is worthy of their chosen audience. They want to perfectly distill the ideas they want to share in this capsule of art, and share it with the world. Books, poems, paintings, movies, even games are made in the name of art. From small one-person artists to sprawling collectives working with collectives, art has been made and remade in a constant conversation between artist and audience.

It is no wonder, then, that many people want to be part of this conversation in a speaking role. They want to deliver their own message and thus become artists.

In Chicory: A Colorful Tale, there is only one artist that truly matters, and that artist is the Wielder.

When you start the game, you are introduced to the concept of a Wielder, and how important the role is to the society of Picnic, the world of this game. Using The Brush, they bring color everywhere, painting the trees, the seas, and the skies. They go around Picnic, retouching old paintings and buildings, helping everyone who needs their help. Since this role is a singular one, it is very important, and the responsibility weighs heavy on those who are charged with it. A new Wielder is chosen by the previous one, apprenticing them until they are ready to take on the role.

We see four Wielders in this game. We see Cardamom, an adorable old Lion! He loved doodling. He loved being in touch with his creative side whenever he drew and painted. But when he became the Wielder, he found that he disliked the role, as it meant that he was no longer doing this for his own happiness. As time passed, he grew tired of being the Wielder and he searched for someone to pass it on to.

Blackberry was the Wielder after Cardamom. She is a severe figure who values skill and greatness. She sees the Wielder role as a very important responsibility that must be handled with care. As such, she took decades before she chose an apprentice. She chose Chicory. Though passing on the Brush to her was a traumatic event for both of them, Chicory ended up becoming the Wielder all the same.

Chicory worked hard to be the Wielder. It’s all she wanted. It didn’t leave her room for much of a life other than working for the role. And now she has it… and she has grown to hate it. Blackberry pushed her too hard to be great. She colors in one spot and is unsatisfied, repeatedly erasing and coloring it in until she thinks it’s perfect. She is celebrated by everyone… except herself.

Lumpia, my player character, was a janitor for Chicory. Throughout the events of this game, they end up becoming the new Wielder, with Chicory guiding them. While Lumpia is happy to become Wielder, they are keenly aware of how they just stumbled into the role by luck, and constantly think if they are worthy of it. They are happy to help people using the powers of the Brush, yes, but they also think that maybe someone else deserves it better. Not only that, they also don’t know if this is what they even want in life!

It is interesting to me to see the Wielders’ varied motivations and their differing relationships with their role. Cardamom saw it as a burden that he soon cast off. Blackberry saw it as a responsibility to carefully guard. Chicory saw it as her ultimate calling, a goal to work towards. And Lumpia saw it as a way to help others. This… relation of the art with the artist, this is what Chicory: A Colorful Tale wants to talk about. How does your passion move you? How does your creativity manifest? What do you like about being an artist? How do you use your art? There’s a lot of questions to ask, but the point of Chicory is to help you explore these questions yourself. And what better way to do this than to be an artist in-game?

Chicory: A Colorful Tale opens with the world being devoid of color. It is an open-world coloring book for your own creativity to run wild in. The cursor is a brush that can change to different colors (depending on the area) and sizes. There’s even an in-game series of art classes for you to draw your own interpretation of various prompts and art pieces!

The art classes are optional. Heck, to my memory, there are only really one or two required paintings you really need to do. The painting in-game is mostly a way for you to interface with the Metroidvania platformer gameplay. Nonetheless, the game invites you to have fun with it. Color in the world! Draw some graffiti! Draw some [REDACTED]! It’s a blank canvas, you can draw as much (or as little) as you like! This is all an exercise for you to explore how you want to express your own creativity, and how much fun you have doing it.

I really like the game for how much it let me have fun with drawing and painting. It made me remember my younger days where I’d draw a lot of robots on notebooks, giving them stats. And seeing the in-game characters comment on my art enriched the experience, making me feel like my art actually mattered.

I think it’s too simplistic to call this game’s story as “unexpectedly dark,” but that’s what first comes to mind. On its face it seems like a fun coloring book of a game. As you play it, though, it then tackles themes of burnout, depression, systems that gatekeep, and a bunch of others.

I identify a lot with Chicory. As a person diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder, I really empathize with her. She has lost her drive, her main motivation, and is now lost. She blames herself for the current troubles of Picnic, even though it isn’t her fault. Blackberry pushed her too hard and she just took it silently because she really wanted to become the Wielder! The Brush that she so wanted to Wield has become the representation of the heavy expectations placed on her by Blackberry, by society, and by herself. Who wouldn’t buckle under all of that stress?

It is only when she lets go of the Brush that she begins to heal. As she helps Lumpia with their path to being a Wielder, they too help Chicory with their path to recovery. When the full nature of the Brush’s darkness revealed itself, they came back to Chicory and fought to help her despite her own self-destructive tendencies.

The Brush, being the creativity of all the Wielders made manifest, is also their doubts, their fears, their insecurities. Cardamom’s burnout. Blackberry’s gatekeeping. Chicory’s depression. Lumpia’s impostor syndrome. And so much more. It is the reason why the color of Picnic has been drained, and it will become worse if left unchecked. This is the moment where Chicory and Lumpia think: this has to end. There has to be a better way to create that doesn’t involve such trauma.

In Picnic, everyone can make art, but only one person at a time gets to be the Wielder. I like how the story discusses how unfair this system is, with recognition only being given to the current Wielder. Radish, an art student in Picnic, talks about this unfairness at length, and even after quitting art school in protest of this, she still needed Lumpia’s help to get her work noticed. So I especially liked it when in the ending, the current Brush is destroyed by Lumpia and Chicory, who have rediscovered the forgotten skill of growing your own Brush.

At the end of the game, she moves out of the Wielder Tower and into her own house. She painted it with her own style, and hung up Lumpia’s rendition of her. “I really want to be better,” she says. She doesn’t know what the future holds, but right now she wants to help all those who want to be artists in this new world that she and Lumpia helped build: a world where everyone can grow their own Brush.

I really like that. Anyone can be an artist, if they so choose to be.

Art is communication between artist and audience. But sometimes, you have to remember that you are also the audience of your own art. And sometimes you have to sit back, relax, and take a break. Take a moment to play a game about a dog who draws. The world can wait.

[justiceshot]

Inspiration

There’s been this phenomena bothering me for a long time now, and I’ve never spoken up about it because I didn’t feel like I had the authority to do so or the right words to articulate just what about it made me feel so hollow inside. I was doing meal prep today on my lunch hour and the words finally hit me. Like, “Holy shit I get why recipe blogs start with an 85 page thesis on country living before you get to the recipe” level of Hit Me.  

While I was chopping onions I noticed how I was holding my knife (badly) and an old scene from Good Eats popped up into my mind. Immediately it made me smile and I corrected the way I was holding my knife. I used to know the words to every episode of that show--and there were many seasons. I don’t anymore. I couldn’t remember the words to the scene and it made me a little sad before I moved on with the chore.

Why bring this up?

Let me dredge up some old, old tea to give you an idea of when I first noticed it acutely and how it’s changed the way I view media in general. There was a scandal years ago now. Might have been 2016 for the First Trump campaign even where donor information got out on a bunch of celebrities and Alton Brown was on that list as having donated sizably to the Republican party. This was about the time when fear at the LGBTQA community online was at an all time high. I follow a Lot of artists on Twitter and there was just this chorus of despair and dismay. Mr. Brown gave the predictable confusion as to why he was getting backlash and why his decisions should matter and all manner of very logical defensive statements as to why he should do exactly as he did. 

I’m not sure if he ever understood why an entire generation of people who grew up naming him as possibly a childhood hero or at least the reason they gave a passing shit as to why they’d care what they made for themselves suddenly turned away from him. Fast forward a few years and it’s the same story for the creator of Five Nights at Freddy’s (Scott Cawthon, I think?). And again and again there’s this tone deaf confusion from the people I and a lot of other people had kind of put on a bit of a pedestal as someone we wanted to emulate -- or at least aspire to their level of success and influence-- having an Inconvenient Truth coming to light about them. There are more. Many more, but these two were the ones that finally made me sit and think about it.

I never retweeted anyone’s comments pouring my heart out about it. I didn’t think I’d have anything valid to say. I do now.

Here’s the Finally Getting to the Recipe portion of this post.

No one is surprised to see an Influential white man support either the Republican party or values/actions that have been supported by said party as it marches ever toward regressive Authoritarian values. Not ten years ago, not fifty years ago, not now. That’s not why they lose a generation of fans.

When someone creates something they don’t get to choose who gets inspired by the content they create unless it never gets shown to the outside world. It’s how symbols get stolen by radical groups. Symbols that have to be hard fought to be reclaimed if they ever can be at all. So when a wholesome cooking show comes along that appeals to the nerdy and teaches them how to cook, or an indie horror game makes waves on the online community as being the brainchild of one person and these things get Big they’re going to reach a Lot of people. 

I’m posting this on Tumblr, almost none of y’all are cishet and even if you are chances are you’re either an Ally or at the very least not a goddamn enemy. So I’m talking to the choir when I say the older I got, the harder it was to find adults or media outlets in the mainstream who I could feel good about supporting. When news like this breaks? It breaks my heart a little bit every time and takes me by surprise. 

Not because another older white man is putting team mentality politics over the well being of his fellow Americans. But because these people through their creations and success have been able to get out of their tiny home bubbles and meet people. Either through real travel or online. They’ve gotten to expand their horizons so much to make all those waves. And when they come back to their homes and decide where the fruits of their labor should go, they show they haven’t Grown because of those experiences. 

They still choose the side that wants to take away basic human rights. 

So I’ll continue to say goodbye to a lot of childhood heroes I expect. Not because they’ve passed, but because I’ve grown more than they have as a result of their creations. It doesn’t make the lessons I’ve learned or the joy I’ve taken from their works any less valid, but it does make me look elsewhere when I want to find that next rainbow to chase.

[findopulencerp]

                                             𝖌𝖗𝖊𝖞 𝖑𝖆𝖕𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖐𝖎

he was born 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲-𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 years ago, he is a 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟 who lives in 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥 as a 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫, and is in 𝐧𝐨 𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐤. he looks an awful lot like 𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧.

“All too often someone spoils my enjoyment of their company by talking to me.”

Grey grew up on a run down farm in a rural township in New Jersey. He spent most of his time by himself, collecting sticks and rocks, and fishing anything he found interesting out of a nearby creek. He was a selfish child with a low tolerance for others, even going as far as to be removed from Scouts for biting other children that got in his way. As he got older, he remained similarly self-centred, enjoying his own company and merely tolerating those around him if it benefitted him in some way to do so. That was, until he met Bea.

Bea was a young lady from a rich family. They docked their boat in his town to avoid fees. They would only meet briefly, speaking mere sentences to each other. But, it was enough for him to know there was nobody else like her. Every Summer, he would walk past the docks on his way home, waiting for her arrival. The last day he saw her there, the two agreed the town had no future for either of them and made arrangements to run away together. They would meet under the biggest tree on his parent’s farm, at midnight.

It was a trap. 

As he waited for her in the moonlight, he was suddenly surrounded by large, shadowy figures. Inhuman beasts he’d never seen the likes of before. They beat him savagely, one piercing his skin with its fangs. They withdrew sharply and he felt himself beginning to change, his own body becoming a stranger to him. The beasts fled, their plan having gone awry. Grey passed out from his injuries shortly thereafter. 

When he came too, he was human again. Too sorely beaten to pick apart his memories of the attack to decipher what exactly happened. He tried to move on, but found himself unable to. Every night he lay awake, anticipating another beating. Every sound, no matter how minute, was a sign of immediate danger. As the next full moon graced the town, he learnt the gravity of what had occurred that night. Still unsure of his newfound lycanthropy, he went outside to give himself space to adjust. It was then that he smelt the others. Signs of their presence were all over his home. He knew he had to run. 

He fled the moment the sun rose, hopping buses until he ran out of cash. His new home was closer to the big city, ideal for remaining unknown as most people were simply passing through on their way to New York. He used his credit card to stay at a run down hotel, passing his time by watching TV or sitting at the bar. As not many visitors stayed for very long, the family that owned the hotel were quick to take note of him and over time befriended him slowly, offering extra food at breakfast, or a spare blanket in the Winter. As his card declined one month, the head of the family made a deal with him. Grey could stay there for free, on the condition that he befriended the owner’s son who was in the throes of grief and needed someone other than his parents for support. Seeing it as a fair deal, and not really having another option, he agreed. The son was quiet and overly submissive to anything Grey suggested. This meant Grey spent a lot of time watching TV or renting video games. On a good day, they would talk while Grey played. They had very little in common, but all they had was each other.

This arrangement lasted for a couple of years. They were the first time in a long time that Grey had felt any peace. However, they weren’t to last. With little warning, the hotel closed down and the family moved away. They left some money for Grey, slipping it under his door in an envelope, along with a note apologising for how things had to be. Despite the hotel now sitting abandoned, slowly decaying, Grey remained, even as the power failed and the cold and damp crept in. One night, Grey was awoken to the sound of the hotel door being broken in and the building quickly filling with the sounds of everything being ransacked. Assuming it was rowdy teenagers, Grey went out to scare them off. But, he was met with the same shadowed beasts he’d come to meet before. They attacked him again, and were only fought off by his own lycanthropy offering him the agility to run. He knew the building better than almost anybody and escaped down a cordoned off maintenance corridor which had concrete steps down to a fire exit. He fled into the night, eventually collapsing in the brush on the outskirts of a golf club. He now knew that even if he stopped running, they wouldn’t stop chasing. 

Using the money he’d been gifted, he moved to Opulence. He had nothing other than the clothes on his back and was fearful to speak too much to anybody on the off chance they knew of Bea and her family. Now confident with his shifting abilities, he spends a large portion of his time as a wolf, both for hunting purposes and for surviving the challenges that come with living outdoors. More recently, he’s occasionally headed into the town, worried that he’ll lose his humanity if he spends forever in isolation.

“what power did he attain when settling in opulence?”

Grey gained the ability to shift fully at will with ease. He also gained strong hunting instincts and a keen eye.

this character is…retired

[futuristicmentalitynerd]

Dude. I normally agree with your takes but not on this one. A few months ago a current coach and player literally said playing at BMO is like “going to a party.” These comments from Tobin and MA are not isolated comments. It is well known in the league that Angel City fans make it a party rather than giving their own team an advantage like every other fanbase who shows up to games does for their players.

Thank you for usually agreeing with me! You might not want to say that publicly as that may cause some to throw shade at your opinion in the future. 😂 No really, in all seriousness Yes, I think we're going to disagree on this one. I can write an even longer dissertation than what I’m about to write on why I disagree with holding thousands upon thousands of fans in attendance for every single game supporting the home team accountable for a team's performance but hopefully you would agree that the subject is just not that serious 😂  I don't know if you're in LA or an LA sports fan in general or not. But there are some unique qualities and issues with being an LA sports fan (not just ACFC) that other areas or cities simply do not deal with. And of course, the opposing teams and players enjoy the environment! They are right it is a vibe. It is a party for some. I would hope they enjoy the environment since the majority of the teams in this league (minus PDX) have only been used to playing in front of their parents and some aunts and uncles every home game before ACFC showed up. Entering BMO or any other LA sports venue (Dodgers Stadium, Crypto, SoFi) for that matter one doesn’t have to pledge their fealty. Supporters Group members do but not the thousands upon thousands of others. And this is not PDX. This is not the only game in town. Ever. And the bulk of the fans are not men, and the ACFC games that folks are attending are not male sports teams who has had 60+ years of existence in the city along with championships for the city. People that want to see the opposing team can buy re-sell tickets and cheer for whoever they want. Friends and family of the opposing team all sit in the section behind the visitor bench and of course, they are obnoxiously loud for their team and their kids and best buddies. I sure hope that no one actually thinks that the bulk of 22k or the season ticket holders in the stadium are clapping for or cheering the opposition?

But either way, no one is going to be offended if someone does cheer for the opposition with any of our sports teams, generally, unless it's some drunk local LA fan looking for trouble (I see you drunk ass Dodger fans fighting with Giants fans or LAFC fans fighting with LA Galaxy fans LA on LA crime). The county of LA has nearly 10 million people. Native-Angelino ride and dies are not in the majority. There’s 40 US states smaller in population than LA County all by itself. And not all 22K in attendance at BMO are local season ticket holders either. I mention all of this because honestly, if someone in attendance is cheering for the opposition it could be that person’s home town they grew up in or there could be players on the other team from their home country. Or maybe it’s the first NWSL team they ever followed and fell in love with so ACFC is their 2nd fave. I don’t know and I don’t care. This past weekend the entire Brazilian WNT played against us 🤣  Do you know how many Brazilians live in LA County? And Marta is a footballing treasure? Barbra Banda had a Zambian contingent there as well in 2 different areas of the stadium and yeah I think that's pretty damn cool.  When you live in LA there will always be people in-stadium rooting for the other team. It’s true at every single LA sports venue. ACFC is a women's team not aligned with any other club and is only in its 3rd year of existence with no real measure of success yet. Success on the field will cure a lot of ills that apparently some people perceive. There is no generational, passed down from your family, that dictates one’s hatred toward another team in this league that has been fostered by previous play-off battles and stinging defeats. I mean we have to be for real. The team does not have any history. Not yet. Even the solo playoff game last year was away. I stand firmly on the idea that if ACFC players can’t manage a higher level of motivation when having sellout crowds of 22K present, whose SG spend hours upon hours painting tifos, who show up to every STH event, who sing and chant and drum the entire game, who are overwhelmingly cheering and rooting for them and their inspired play (when it occurs), then those players have problems much greater than an issue with an in-stadium fanbase vibe can help with. Personally, I have no interest in going to BMO to be mad and hostile at the opposing team when their only crime is that they aren't from LA. Having said that if a player does something shitty to an ACFC player then they get booed, the refs ... they get booed. The game day is a vibe. And yes it can feel like a party. It's LA. LA is not everyone's cup of tea and that has nothing to do with ACFC... 🤣

[lazzies123]

If Someone Asked Me What I Was Good at, I Would Say

Solitude.

When I was at school, we had an assignment to write down what we wanted to be when we grew up. After that, the teacher wanted us to do a presentation about it in front of the class. At that time, I was too young to understand that people would only be interested in us when we did or said good things. So, I told everyone that I wanted to write a book that motivated people. I wanted to leave a legacy in everyone's mind and inspire people to do good things. I remember I got a lot of applause, praise, and even a smile from my teacher. As I got older, I realised people don't care about what you think. It is what you do that leaves an impression on other people's minds. That's how you leave a legacy. Had I known about this earlier, would I not have presented my dreams at all?

Sometimes, I get jealous of people who know what they do with life. I see a friend who is good at music, who can sing and play guitar. There is also someone good at programming and engineering. Looking at these people, I could feel anger inside me. They have some values to offer which I may not have. I look at myself. What do I do? Working, playing video games, caring for my old man, and that's it? Sure, it was okay to play video games if it was 10 years ago. I didn't care about how much time had passed, but now. Every time I spend my time on a video game, I ask myself, "Was it worth it?" Aren't there so many better things to do? How can I compete against people who spend so much time carving their talents? Do I have a talent? I am confident in myself, but sometimes, being confident is not enough. You cannot bring a sword into a gunfight. While everyone else is busy improving themselves, I am trying to figure out what to do with life. If this is not jealousy, I don't know what is.

I wish I had a good hobby. I wake up every day. I help my dad with his needs: breakfast, an adult diaper, a computer for karaoke for his entertainment, and a good bed to sleep in case he's tired. Then, I prepare myself for work. After working 9 hours, I spend the rest of the day playing video games. Playing a game with someone is precious. But what if there is no one to play with? I will stare at my computer, watch YouTube, and listen to good songs. Is this actually productive? I know the answer is "no." Day by day, it feels so flat and empty. At the peak of my solitude, I found something that had been lost from me for so many years. Back when I was at school, I always liked writing. Yes, my writing is not so fancy, and these words are not pretty. However, this is better than not doing anything at all. Besides, writing is a cheap hobby. You do not really need much, right? Everything is there. My computer, internet connection, a keyboard. So, I started writing.

I do not have plans or a concept of what I want to write in this Tumblr. I have a lot of fantasy stories, but it is not a good time for that. I think I will write everything about me here. After all, this is for me. This place will be a good place to return whenever I'm unsure what to do with life. So, yeah. Myself, whenever you read this in the future. Know that good things come at the good times. Hang in there, okay? It does not really matter if people around you are good at what they do. We were born unique. Everyone has their own purposes. Besides, you get the privilege of taking care of your father. Only some get the chance to do that. I know you do not like your father, but that does not mean you hate him. You do not like your father as a person, but you love him as a family. Good things will come one day, and you will be a happy man.

If someone asked you what you were good at, ignore it. You do not need to tell everyone everything. Okay?

Use your solitude to write your legacy here :)

[designedonchaos]

P O T E N T I A L  C O N N E C T I O N S

Gus Amado, 43, He/Him, ASL Interpreter

Under the Read More are different connection ideas based on Val’s life. Feel free to message me or comment on the post if any of these strike your fancy and I can reach out to you to plot more. 💙 

💉 Sedate Me - It’s a hot summer out in the middle of nowhere- and you meet an older man with an ugly haircut and a watery smile. He’s living in an RV and he’s running away from something. He’s clearly been through it- and he doesn’t talk about it. Maybe a traveler yourself at the time, and at some basement party thrown by the grungy underground queers in some hot midwestern town, you get to talking- but more importantly, you get to experiencing. Whatever drugs you both take leave you sitting on a rooftop somewhere, throwing water balloons at street lamps to see if they’ll extinguish. You finally learn about Gus’s background- at least, what you can glean from between both of your hazes and delusions. You know he was a special agent, and you know his boyfriend is dead. High out of your minds, you both make a vow to be best fucked up friends forever, locking pinkies. And years later, despite the city being so vast and full of possibilities, you see the familiar face of your drug-buddy out and living his life, in NYC. He looks better. But before or after doesn’t matter. Fate just has a way of pulling y’all back together again.

👊 Fight Me/Kiss Me - You hate his shit face. His dumb smile and the way he always knows a little too much about something. Not only that, but he shows up to things and always just seems to be trying to get a word in. You don’t fully notice the loneliness there, the way Gus tries desperately to make friends, afraid of his empty apartment. But you revel in arguing with him- and he relishes in it right back. Drinks at the bar turns into rolling eyes and pushes and shoves, until you’re both out in the parking lot. Until he’s under you breathing heavy and the stale beer emanating from your breath has him gripping your jacket and tugging you in. You both fuck and fight like it’s your job, and you’re not sure which you enjoy more.

🧒 Miss Me - You’re a similar age to one of the many Amado children and you get along swimmingly. You’ve spent your life in NYC and you often meet up with the Amado kids when they go out to the community pool. The younger boy is sweet and a bit of a mama’s boy, but he’s always coming up with funny stories and you two play pretend out in Central Park while your moms have picnics. You two go off into the woods and hunt frogs. You see how deep into the mud you can go without sinking, and you go searching for elusive ‘mystery fish’, a favorite game of Gus’s. You’re kindred spirits, made of muck and algae and the smell of wet bark. Maybe it’s because you’re both so used to the concrete and boring structures of high-rise apartments that you can’t enter. Gus’s cooler brother Chet always calls you both ‘the little swamp monsters’. In high school Gus asks you to help cut his hair, and you steal his older brother’s car and go looking for ghosts. But Gus started to slowly clean up- and suddenly he was an agent. Stuffy and carrying a gun- but sometimes you see the scruffy kid you were best friends with. Your texts and Facetimes were few and far between, until his partner died and he retired from the force. Suddenly he needed friendship more than ever- but sometimes it’s not so simple. How do you both restart your old friendship? Is it tough, or does it feel like no time has passed?

💬  Introduce Me - You do your job, and you do it well- a professional at whatever you do. And regardless of how long you’ve been that way, you are impressive to Gus. Gus, who grew up figuring out his life and only having a few friends, only to lose one of the closest ones he had. He’s spent the past few years driving around in his RV with Chili, not really having a place to call home... and now he’s come back to NYC, and barely understands what it means to have a family any more. He needs help... and you can feel it. He’s desperate for some kind of connection but often gets into fights instead. You think he might need to be taken under someone’s wing. Maybe he needs help being introduced to new friends, to a brotherhood. Even just being filled in on what’s been going on. Gus is desperate to belong but doesn’t know how to make that shown- and maybe you see that, just a little bit. He makes all his jokes at first, affable and kind, but finds you comforting and helpful. He may even see you as a form of guidance or a close friend.

🚘  Help Me - You are someone in a car at night. It’s so dark out and your high-beams are on, and the radio is turned up. For some reason it’s slow & sad songs tonight, and you’re eager to get home. Roy Orbison croons. ‘I was alright, for a while, I could smile for a while. Then I saw you last night, you held my hand so tight, when you stopped to say ‘hello’.’ The next second, you see a shorter man tripping out of the woods and right onto the street. He’s bloody and his clothing is torn and his eyes are wide. He’s bruised up and terrified... and against the fear screaming in the back of your head, you help him into your car. His name is Gus, and he flops back into your passenger seat after you’ve asked him if he’s alright. He’s out of it and mumbling “Just drive, just drive”. He’s trying not to bleed on your car’s interior. He’s silent for a second and laughs weakly. ‘Shit, is that- this is one of my favorite songs.’ From there on, you start to talk carefully. He’s bleeding- a lot. You get him to a police station and that’s that... until you see on the news that an FBI agent and his partner were held hostage at gunpoint for 48 hours by a drug cartel. You recognize the face immediately. The police call you for a follow-up and you get to meet Gus in the hospital as he recovers. Suddenly you’re visiting every few days, hearing that not many have.